Absenteeism

When life gets rough

And I sit on my duff

I’m tempted to cry

And wail and moan.

I feel so alone

When I ache to the bone.

But nothing

Offers comfort to me.

As I survive

And once again come alive

I know it wasn’t me

Who brought me through.

For The Lord is my shepherd,

And His dove, His holy bird,

Leads me out of my torment

Once again.

Thank You, Lord. I praise Your holy name for bringing me through the past several months, when my health was sliding rapidly downhill. Though I am still not as well as I would like, You give me the hope to believe that I am on the mend and will soon be able to participate in life more often.

Thank you, also, to all my readers who have stood by and waited patiently to hear why I have not been writing. The regimen I was on most recently for my Lyme disease took its toll worse than usual. That, coupled with the extra stress of traveling, was just too much for my body to handle. My pain and fatigue were unrelenting, and I could not do much more than survive. I depended wholly on The Lord, Ken, and Tinker Belle to get me through.

I do not regret making this journey, not in the least. Though we are in a rather barren area, with brown being the predominant color, I absolutely love it. The lack of rain and subsequent humidity has been a Godsend for my arthritis (bone pain is a whole other matter), and even though it is nearing the end of October, we are still enjoying temperatures in the 80’s.

Besides, I’m near my daughter, and our relationship is flourishing as I get to know her as an adult, rather than as a child. We are blessed to have this opportunity.

I cannot make any promises as to how frequently I will be writing in the future, but I hope it will be more often. Please forgive my absenteeism and know it was for a health reason.

Love,

Jenni and Ken

Travelling Dog

Another episode of

Pug Funnies

As told to me by my dog, Tinker Belle.

This travelling thing is great fun. I don’t know how Mama and Daddy do it, but every time Mama and I get out of the truck, Daddy is there with the house.

Mama and Daddy talk to each other on these little black things she calls walkies, and it used to bother me, hearing Daddy’s voice like that. No matter where I looked in the truck, I could not find him. Now it doesn’t bother me so much because I know he will be there when we stop again. Besides, it makes Mama happy to talk to that black thing that sounds like Daddy.

Daddy says I’m the navigator, but I haven’t a clue how to use a map, other than as a puppy pad. Sometimes when he has the maps all laid out, I dance on them and scrunch them up. It is great fun, but Daddy gets awful mad at me.

Sometimes it gets boring, being in the truck all day long. I sleep. I look out the window. I make a big mess in the cab, trying to make the seat more comfortable.

On our way to Snowflower, I made up a new game all on my own. It is called the “Shock Mama” game. I like to rub my face on the pillows, and I discovered if I rub on this certain pillow (Mama says it is faux suede), I can then go touch Mama with my forehead and give her a zap. I did this over and over and she laughed and rubbed her elbow every time.

Mama says that makes me intelligent, but I was just bored, so I made it up.

I like going everywhere with Mama. When she puts on my big harness that says “Assistance Service Dog” on it, she says, “Time to go to work.” Work must mean that its fun because I get to go in stores and restaurants with Mama and Daddy when I wear it. I sit there real patient and don’t bother anybody.

Mama says she needs me for her pain and anxiety. I think that means she needs all the love and special attention I give her when she doesn’t feel good. When we go on walks, I know not to pull, and I keep one eye on Mama to make sure she is okay. I go extra slow when Mama has my leash, but with Daddy, I get more exercise. Someday, with my help, Mama will be able to run and play, too.

I’m glad Mama and Daddy have taught me all these things so that I can be of service. I like travelling with them. Some people say I’m spoiled, but Mama says I deserve every bit of extra love that comes my way for all I do for her.

Puppy Kisses,

Tinker Belle

Fire!

When my group leader informed me that he was ill and would be cancelling tonight’s class, my body got the message before my brain did. My body said, “Wow, I don’t have to go anywhere tonight. It’s time to shut down.” And shut down it did.

Since Ken’s surgery (and even before) I have been pushing myself to the brink of exhaustion almost every day. With adrenal fatigue, that’s easy enough to do just in a normal day’s routine, but I have been pushing way past and more or less hurting myself in the process. I have been unable to sleep much at all this past week because of all the pain I have been in, with running all the errands and to appointments and cooking and cleaning. (I know, quit whining.)

The topper, though, was yesterday when some prospective buyers came by to look the place over. I tried my best to get it all spiffy beforehand, but I still felt I did an inadequate job of it, but that is partly due to all the junk we still need to offload and the overall lack of storage space.

Back to my body shutting down: I figured I might just lie down for a few minutes, rest my weariness. Ken tried to get me up. He wanted me to either go for a walk with him or to just go outside and take advantage of the beautiful day. I could barely lift my arm to wave him off, while I slurred, “leave me be.” He could have yelled “fire!” but I don’t think I could have gotten up even then.

He was not happy that I was “wasting another day” in bed, but then again, he has never really understood my levels of fatigue. It is like when you have the flu and you are all achy and can barely move. Only mine doesn’t nicely disappear after a week or two of misery. It sticks around, waxing and waning to a certain degree, but always there. Always dampening my plans and squashing the best of my intentions. It sucks. (Sorry.)

So, after my three-hour snooze-fest, I feel much better. I was able to finish making dinner, which I had started earlier. At least I had gotten the prawns marinating before collapsing into bed. I added some leftover homemade Spanish rice from yesterday’s dinner and some steamed carrots, and we had ourselves a righteously fabulous meal outside in this beautiful weather.

My only disappointment is that the three kinds of chocolatey goodness I made for our RENEW dessert potluck yesterday did not make it to the church tonight. It’s just another example of my best of intentions going awry. Oh well, I am sure Trevor will be happy to gobble them down instead.

As a special bonus, here’s some flowers from our yard.

And a lazy little assist dog . . . (Tink fell asleep on the arm of the chair and then proceeded to slide onto Ken’s lap, which is better than her usual stunt—falling off the arm and onto the floor!)

(Wo)Man Up

Oh man, I feel like I am the one who went through surgery.

After a grueling day (Tuesday) of appointments, errands, and grocery shopping to prepare for Ken’s downtime following surgery, and then sitting at the hospital all day (Wednesday), I guess it was no wonder my body gave out yesterday (Thursday).

Luckily, Trevor came home early from work last night, because I was ready for bed by six, without having eaten much. Lucky also for Ken’s sake that Trevor can fix simple foods.

Speaking of Trevor, I happened to mention to him after getting home from the hospital that I would need him to help watch over Ken for a few days. Ken kind of scowled at the thought of needing a babysitter. But Trevor cracked up when I said, “Hey, the doctor said you have to have a responsible adult with you at all times for at least the first few days.”

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Tonight, if I feel up to it, I will venture out for my church stuff, and I can do that without guilt because a good friend has offered to “babysit.” He may grump, but I know Ken loves to be pampered.

As for me, I have to buck up and take on more responsibility than I have had to in the recent past. I too like to be pampered, and Ken and Trevor spoil me rotten all too often, but now it is not my turn.

Another thing I need to do is learn to accept the help that has been so generously offered—by our friends, our neighbors, our church family. I need to whip out my calendar, and say, “yes, please, dinner for Saturday would be great.”

After all, I am not alone in this journey. God gave us others to help carry our burdens. We only need to reach out our hand.

Our assist dog, Tinker Belle, hard at work. Check out the latest hospital-to-home fashions.

Apple Dumpling Gang Strikes Again!

 

We had so much fun on our Maiden Voyage . . . we could not wait to do it all again!

It is so much fun to run away from home, I don’t know why I didn’t do it as a kid (um, probably because I couldn’t drive this cool house on wheels yet, and I would not have gotten very far on my bike.). But all kidding aside (yeah, right) as a kid, I certainly would have missed the comforts of having a roof over my head and three squares a day.

Look, Ma, I can drive! Oops, the dash police are gonna get me. (Dash police are something like trunk monkeys.) “Honest, I was only going five miles per hour, Officer Puglet. Now, get off my dash, please.”

But, there is one thing I have discovered, and that is, if you have the right accomplice (aka friend) as your partner in crime (oops, I mean, hubby), you will never go hungry.

Being the ragtag bunch of hoodlums we are, before setting out on this voyage, we had to attempt pillaging and plundering at our favorite casino, Spirit Mountain. Besides, it was free cheese Tuesday, and who can pass up free cheese, especially when it is Tillamook? Not I, not I. All things said and done, the pillaging went in reverse, and that two-pound brick of cheese, albeit all natural premium white cheddar, cost us many times the going rate at any old Safeway.

Humph. I done been robbed.

Not to be deterred, we were still determined to take some spoils of war with us as we skulked away toward the beach, licking our wounded wallets.

Remember those crabby apples from a few weeks ago?

Well, we saw them again from the Spirit Mountain RV parking lot, and being the fruit thief he is, my hubby had to get his hands on some—and he drug me and my perfect (ha ha) reputation through the mud with him on his quest for those little red devils.

My new shoes will never be the same.

After we trudged through a field and a forest of overgrown trees of all kinds, we located the one apple tree we could easily get to, without having to scale walls and jump ditches. Wouldn’t you know it? Somebody beat us to that tree. It was stripped clean. Bummer. There were other apple thieves afoot.

Again, not to be deterred, Ken sent me back up to the parking lot, pushing my rump as I tried my darnedest not to slide back down the muddy hill. Why can’t Tinker be a Saint Bernard or a husky when I need her to pull me up a hill? Instead of helping, she stood at the top, with that silly grin of hers lighting up her face. If not a sled dog, at least I had a cheering section.

I then became the lookout as Ken made his way to a big tree, full of ripe beauties but mighty close to the parking lot. Security regularly patrolled the lot. Would they reprimand us for trespassing? Would they kick us off casino property? Would we be banned from next week’s cheese Tuesday? Or would they even care?

I’ll keep that tidbit under my hat for now. I wouldn’t want to spoil anyone else’s fun.

These little beauties are destined for greatness.

Do Not Postpone Your Joy

What is joy? What is happiness? Are they the same? Not in my book.

What about joy and instant gratification? Are they the same? Certainly not.

Happiness has a tendency to be fleeting. By its own common usage, we assign happiness many times to a single day, such as happy birthday or happy anniversary. It comes and it goes. Many times it is used flippantly, not really addressing true happiness at all. I am happy the mail arrived. But I am sad it is all bills.

Instant gratification is undoubtedly defined by pleasure-seeking behavior. One’s need for instant gratification means that they cannot put off getting rewarded. They are not satisfied unless it happens now. I must have my spectacles within one hour, my pizza delivered within half an hour (without my butt leaving the sofa until it gets here), and anything and everything else via drive-thru, where I don’t even have to get my lazy rump out of the car. And then there is an offer of instant credit everywhere I go.

What happened to the anticipation we giddily danced about when we were children? Waiting forever for Christmas morning to arrive. Waiting literally years to be old enough to date or drive. Working our first job and waiting two weeks for that meager paycheck. It may have been small, but we earned it ourselves. Saving up those tiny paychecks to buy a name-brand pair of jeans or concert tickets, without the help of parents or credit cards.

Or the ultimate postponement for a woman, waiting 9 months for her baby to be born. Those last two weeks can be torture, especially when the baby is late. Though we may complain, God is in control of postponing that little bundle of joy.

Though many things should be postponed to maintain a healthy balance in life, joy should not.

Joy evokes a sense of passion for our desires. Joy is exceptionally pleasurable, not in the gaiety of getting our short-term wants met, but in the satisfaction of attaining our heart’s desires.

Joy is real and tangible and I can feel it bubble up inside me, spilling over into a smile or even an uncontrollable giggle. Joy is seeing my son getting excited about something he has done or wants to do. Joy is seeing my best characteristics coming out in my offspring. Joy is feeling the unconditional love poured over me by my little Tinker Belle, my assist dog, as she snuggles against my back to help relieve my pain. Yes, there can be joy in a painful situation. Joy and unconditional love go hand in hand. Joy is each step we take toward our mutual goal of traveling for five years. Joy is seeing my husband enjoy his retirement and actually seeing him truly relax for the first time in our 13-year marriage. Joy is knowing we made the right decision for him to retire even though it means less money and more rice and beans come dinner time. Ultimately, joy is knowing I am loved.

True, it seems we must postpone our joy at times. But even if your goals seem far away, always remember that there is immeasurable joy in each step along your journey.

I wish you joy. In whatever you choose.