High Maintenance Hottie

Have you ever stopped to consider how others might see you? Of course you have because you know as well as I do that we are talking about all those labels we try so hard to get rid of. If we step to the side for just a moment, or we change the wording a bit, we might actually be able to laugh at our labels, instead of cry. It’s the whole, “I’m not fat, I’m fluffy,” attitude.

I had never really thought of myself as high maintenance until recently. I’ve always tried to remain independent, not wanting to put upon others and wear out my welcome, so to speak. But, when one has a chronic illness, sometimes she needs help. So I had to drop the façade of independence, in favor of a more congenial, less stubborn reliance on the help of others.

As a disclaimer, despite our grandson’s proclamation that I am always in a good mood, I most certainly am not. I just work really hard to not let others see me, as I go off the deep end, but my poor, dear, sweet husband gets the brunt of it every time.

I have wicked migraines that come on strong and fast and slur my speech and steal my words. I can be in normal conversation one moment, and then the next, I’m a babbling idiot. These meltdowns also come with an emotional flavor. After one incident, I cried and begged Ken to forgive my two-year-old behavior. He said, “Two? More like eight, because you know better.”

One evening during a whopper of a migraine, I insisted on arguing about my jeans and his shoes. I cannot tell you why we were arguing, essentially about the proverbial apples and oranges. I haven’t a clue because it didn’t make sense even as I tried desperately to argue my ridiculous point that night.

It is during my migraines, when I become belligerent like a child, that I am most high maintenance.

When my pain and fatigue shake me to the core, this is also when I am most high maintenance.

When I whine and cry because I am too tired to think straight and I interpret Ken’s gentle coaxing as aggressive pushing, this again is when I am most high maintenance.

He is such a gentle, giving soul, and yet he quickly gives me the evil eye if I am overstepping. It is then that I pray, very loudly, “Lord, please help me to be patient. I know I can be pushy. Please teach me to be satisfied with what I have, Lord. Please let Ken know how much I appreciate him getting me a third glass of water. Lord, I know I am so needy, please forgive me. And thank you for putting Ken in my life. Amen.”

Then he softens, knowing that if I didn’t really need help, I would not ask. Besides, he has opportunities for revenge (oh, you sadistic puppy, you), and he pokes fun at my faux pas (all in good fun, nothing sadistic here). He gets to take a cold, wet washcloth to my fiery body, to extinguish my hot flashes. After all, I do seem to be of that certain age, when women can be overheard saying, “I’m still hot. But now it comes in flashes.”

Moral of today’s story: Laughing at ourselves can be good medicine.

Peace,

Jenni

You’ve Got Some Nerve

Hey you all!

I know you probably thought I was on the verge of falling off the edge of the earth again because it has been a few days after a nice run, but trust me, I’m still here, and I still ache to share all our good adventures (and even some mishaps) with you all; however, I have had one heck of a time with pain this past week. Last night I could seriously have drawn the paths my nerves follow down my arms and legs because the nerve pain was fiery and coursing through most of my body like lightning dancing across a minefield. If I could remember my A&P from college well enough, I could even have named most of the nerves.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, just when I thought I had gotten rid of last week’s migraine, I was hit by this week’s awesome, more spectacular version. Migraine 4.0, which included the new meltdown programming, so that within minutes, I could become petty, childish, and argumentative without warning.

But enough of that. Through it all, God continues to hold my hand as he blesses us again and yet again, share with me through others His grace and wisdom, and comfort me in my darkest, most anxiety riddled moments, as my fear that my pain will never end tries to rob me of my hope. He is one awesome God.

Our grandson asked me the other day how it is that I am always (his word) in a good mood. He knows of my pain. He does his best to comfort this elder of his in his sometimes awkward teenage ways. He repeatedly tells me I am too young to be his grandmother and he sometimes prefers to call me Jen. I know in his heart he knows I am his grandmother even if not by blood, and I know the depth of his love because I have been there since he was born. So it does not bother me if he calls me Jen in public and Grammy Jen in our private moments. These are the moments that bring me joy. This joy I carry always, a gift from God, and it allows me to choose to be in a good mood. I choose my attitude every morning like I choose a matching pair of socks. I could be bitter and angry about my chronic pain, my constant exhaustion, my past hurts, but I choose to follow my joy and I choose to share it through having a good mood. I choose not to take anyone else down just because I am full of pain and misery. It is all about choice. And I choose a good mood especially so that I do not hurt the ones I love.

May God bless you in your afflictions, as He has for me, a lowly sinner.

Love,

Jenni

 

The sculptures, by the way, we found in Winters, California. As you can see, they are for sale. Quite spectacular in person, and life size. Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy what I have to offer.

Busy as a Bee

Life on the road is busy, busy, busy, despite my assumptions to the contrary. I thought I would have plenty of time to write, to paint, to do whatever my heart desired.

(Hey! We finally spotted another Firan Raven. This one’s a 1995. Ours is a 1996.)

Well, maybe life wouldn’t be so busy, if I hadn’t suddenly developed a gregarious attitude/outlook on life. There are so many interesting people out there, and I want to hear all of their stories. I crave the laughter and sharing that happens amongst family, friends, and new acquaintances alike. I cherish each touch, each word, each gesture given or spoken with compassion of heart and honesty of soul.

Among the full-timer set, I thought I might not fit in. I’m considerably younger than most. Though many are more spry than I, in body.

Even so, there’s a unity, a bond, a special cohesiveness, within this ever-changing body of elders with whom I spend my days—and they accept me as one of them. One leaves, another picks up right where they left off. Conversations and laughter ebb and flow with the comings and goings of old and new friends.

We have all chosen this life, though our reasons may be as varied as our personalities.

Ken and I have chosen this life, and I love it. I am grateful to my husband, for without him, I could not have all these new adventures.

Thank you, Lord, for placing Ken in my life and placing us on this path, this journey of a lifetime. Amen.

Love and blessings,

Jenni

Beautiful People

Morning finally came after a fitful night of sleep, dry camping at the rest stop where the Raven had broken down. My nights are especially fitful when we dry camp because, without power, I am without my CPAP. I have a very bad case of sleep apnea, which includes episodes when my brain forgets to tell my body to breathe.

The AAA tow truck towed us ten miles into Yreka to a garage called A1 Auto. Their first assessment of the situation was as we had feared—the starter and solenoid needed to be replaced. Didn’t we just have our regular garage overhaul the starting and charging systems? Yes. Yes, we did.

We signed off on their estimate, but after they began the work, they found the real problem. Now, I’m not a mechanic, so I don’t know the proper terminology. Just bear with me. The last person who replaced the ignition module thingy did not do the most crucial step of smearing grease or goo or insulation gel under it. Without the goo, it shorted out the whole system. We were not happy, and needless to say, we have to go back on the first guys for financial resolve on a few matters.

My stress level and lack of quality sleep were eating away at the last little bit of fortitude I had remaining. When they said our rig would not be completed that night, well I was very near tears.

We (including Tinker Belle) parked ourselves in the coolness of their waiting area for the duration of their open hours. I found a bible amongst their reading material and read a bit. People came and went. A nice Hispanic family joined us for a short while. They had picked up a few peaches at a stand down the street, and she gave me one. It was a sweet blessing.

All the people we had dealt with up to this point in Yreka have all been beautiful people. When I say beautiful, I am not talking about outward appearances. I mean the beauty from within, the beauty God sees. The glow of a kind and generous soul. The bubbliness of a joyous spirit.

Then a very beautiful woman and her son came into our little sanctuary from the outside world. We had such wonderful, beautiful conversations, and if we had not been traveling in different directions, I venture that we could easily have become fast friends. Her name is Willow, and I believe her mother named her correctly, as I can see the grace and beauty of a magnificent willow tree in her actions and words, the way she so openly cares and gives of herself, joyously.

Willow told us a bit of wisdom from her grandmother, which is that “Breakdowns lead to breakthroughs.” We’ve yet to encounter that breakthrough, though.

The guys at A1, by all rights, could have told us to go find a motel for the night, but they allowed us to sleep in our rig, inside their locked fence. (Yes, we had the  lock combination in case of emergency.)

All of the staff there was so wonderful to us that Ken had to bring them a box of donuts from Raley’s to say thank you.

By noon the next day, we were all fixed and settled up with them, and ready to hit the road again, but we no longer had a destination.

You will have to tune in tomorrow to see what happened next!

Love and blessings,

Jenni

This Is The Day

“This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalm 118:24

The above psalm is one of my favorites. In fact, it is one of my life verses, those few verses that really resonate in my soul and that I strive the most to live by.

July 27th was the day we chose to set out again, after spending a week at home with the boys. After a long, grueling week, finishing all the things we had left undone a month ago, we set out. Since our reservations were for Bushytail Campground in the Shasta-Trinity National Forest (and that’s such a long way from Portland), we decided to spend one night dry camping at a random rest stop along the way.

We tried to sleep, but sleep would not come easily, and we ended up leaving the rest stop early the next morning. We were both so full of excitement about our upcoming adventures. Crossing the Oregon/California border, in my mind, was the point where there was no turning back. We were actually on our journey.

Portland is no longer our home. It is where we hail from.

This realization came with many more realizations and with many tears last week as I said goodbye to Portland and all I love who live there.

When we finally crossed the California border, we sailed right through. The mountainous highway was heating up the Raven, but she was hanging in there. We stopped at the rest stop just inside California, to let her cool and also so that we could take a break and regroup. We still had too many miles left to go without a decent rest first.

Up to this point, I had been having much trepidation about the long drive to Bushytail, but I could not put my finger on any specific reason. I chalked it up to general anxiety about having to drive the truck by myself, following Ken in the Raven, the whole way. I do have the pleasure of Tinker Belle’s Company in the truck with me, and she is a great comfort, but she’s not a relief driver.

Concerning me driving: I am a perfectly capable driver, but I have these pain issues. Ken and I had many long talks about the need for me to drive. We also agreed that how far, or even whether, we drive would be dependent on me and how I felt that day. If I need to stop, we stop. No questions, arguments, or cajoling. We simply stop when I say stop. We carry walkie talkies to communicate as we drive. This is much better than trying to call him on the cell phone, which is illegal, as we all know. A walkie talkie is so much easier to use, anyway. When I need to say something, all I have to do is push a button and talk. If that fails, I flash my high beams.

After two hours of rest, we got back into our rigs and prepared to hit the road again. Click click. Click click. The Raven would not start.

My anxieties grew. Had we made the right decision? Five surgeries (Ken three, Trevor two) and a stint in the ICU (Ken) had kept us tied to Portland for the past three years. Was God telling us, again, that this wasn’t the time? Lord, please tell me what to do next.

We decided to let the Raven  have a few more hours to cool off, thinking that was the problem, and I resolved to live the psalm I quoted earlier. No matter what, I had to find the joy in even this situation, because whether I became angry or happy, it was all a choice within my power. We took the camp chairs, a blanket, some food and drinks, and a toy for Tink, and we settled ourselves beneath a large maple. And we laughed. We people watched. We saw deer as they came down out of the hills for water, as evening approached. We took a nice walk along the river. We played fetch with Tink. We had a wonderful evening.

All this joyousness despite the situation, yet I still had this underlying anxiety about Bushytail I could not shake.

We tried to start the Raven again. Nothing. We tried cross jumping from the house batteries. Nothing. We tried jumping from the truck. Still nothing. So we gave up, resolved to call AAA in the morning, preferring not to spoil any more of the Lord’s day (as it happened to be a Sunday) with any more of this trouble. Out of necessity, there would be a second night of dry camping.

But there was still our reservations to deal with. If we didn’t make it to Bushytail by evening, we would lose our space and the money we already shelled out for it. The decision was made to try to cancel. I called, and luckily, we were able to get most of our money back. They kept the first night’s charge, plus a cancelation fee.

I cannot explain it, but my anxiety evaporated after canceling our plans. Was this God’s way of saying He didn’t want us to go to Bushytail? I may never know. What I do know is that after the Raven was fixed, we had an equally long drive ahead of us, and I hadn’t an ounce of anxiety in my whole body.

Love and blessings,

Jenni

Not So Out of Touch

The Internet has been down, here at Neskowin Creek RV Resort, but it really hasn’t been an issue. Not for me, anyway. I see some people acting like addicts in search of their next hit, as they ask in the office and then ask random people if they’ve gotten on lately.

For me, it has been so peaceful. I have wanted to log on and write a post or two. It just wasn’t in the cards.

In the time I’ve not been spending online, I've had many actual conversations with real flesh-and-bone people and I've learned so much about myself and others in the process. Plus I haven't laughed and smiled this much in a long time.

I’ve also had time to work on editing my book. In a few weeks’ time, I should have the final edit finished, and my manuscript will be ready for publishing. Yes, I realize I’ve been talking about this book off and on for the past several years. I thought I had it finished two years ago. I really did. I had Office Depot print copies, and I handed them out to a few friends, family, and trusted others. I really thought I was ready. But God said, “Not yet.” He was basically telling me the book wasn’t finished because I had one more Major, dare I say Super Major, test to go through. Having now finished that trial, I feel the peace that I believe means I can now finish and publish.

Plus, Ken and I have had time to just relax without stressing about anything other than not being organized full-timers yet.

This past week has been good, very good. Maybe God’s been using this time to reinforce the last trial He put me through.

Thank heaven for limited internet!

We should all go net-less once in a while.

Peace, love, and joy to you all!

I'll be checking out again!

Neskowin, Once Again

Well, here we are on leg two of our journey of a lifetime. We decided to make a side excursion westward to say goodbye to some travel buddies. They are regulars here at Neskowin Creek RV Resort, coming and going often during the year. We’ve been here a few days already, and we’ve hardly seen anyone we know. Well, there is Hank, but his wife had to stay home this trip. The staff seems to have changed, as well.

I could be a bit lonesome, if it weren’t for the community room, and as I hang around, writing, drawing, or working on a puzzle, people wander in, and conversations and laughter are always not far behind.

Today I was working on the preliminary drawings for a painting I have in mind, and a young girl, maybe 13 or 14, asked to watch. I asked if she wanted to draw, and so we shared wonderful chit chat as we sketched together.

There’s a peacefulness around this place. Sometimes I wish we could live here fulltime, but I know my body cannot handle this climate for much longer.

Besides, the Southwest is calling.

PRIORITIZE

If you only had twenty eight days until "hit-the-road" day, and you knew that at least half those days would be stolen by pain, how would you prioritize your time?

I have a house to go through, making decisions on what to keep, take, store, sell, or donate. Ah, but the good thing is, if we leave stuff behind, the boys (son Trevor and his best bud William) will say, “Score!” They will be taking over the lease on the duplex.

I have friends to say goodbye to, at least for a year, though we will still have email (though sporadic at times) and the good ole tellie.

I have financial and medical/medication issues to magically make "transportable."

I have a neighbor who wants me to finish up our cooking lessons before I jet out of here. She still needs my secrets on lemon meringue pie, yeast dough, and pad Thai.

I have two boys I worry about. I pray we have raised them well enough, Ken and I with Trevor, and William’s parents, that is. I know they are both 21 and I had a kid on the hip by that age, but they are boys and I worry. I pray I’ve imparted enough of my hard knocks wisdom (ha ha) to them to keep them out of trouble, to keep them in their jobs and in this duplex. They do listen. I will give them that. I will miss them dearly when we go. I cannot seem to convince them to move south with us. But I think mama is having trouble cutting the apron strings.

I have my doctor, finally, wanting to send me to a pain specialist, finally. Did I say finally? Only in order to see a pain specialist, I have to be physically available in one area for months, until we find resolve. Finally, he makes this decision, but I only have 28 days left in Portland, and we won’t make it to New Mexico until October.

Winter was not kind to me. Winters never are. I joked often that the week wasn’t complete until I had fallen. Then it was fallen twice in a week. Then it was daily falls. It isn’t funny any longer. I now walk fulltime with a cane.

I’ve added another diagnosis to my list, and we are contemplating yet another, if we can figure it out. Yipee. But if we do figure it out, maybe we could finally get a handle on why my pain has gotten so out of control this past year. It has been far worse than in a long time.

My father passed away on the first of Spring. With the passing of my father, it has been like a major chapter in my life closing. Emotionally painful, yes, and yet there is a release. Maybe this is why God kept us here in Portland for so very long. That and all the surgeries my guys went through. Ken three and Trevor two in the span of two years. It has been a very tough three years we’ve spent in a duplex only slated for one year.

When God closes a door, He opens a window. For a breath of fresh air? A change of scenery? Or to at least have an opportunity to empty the chamber pot. Excuse the humor being a bit crass. It has been a very tough few years, frankly. And a very tough day, to boot.

We will be leaving Portland, Oregon, on June 30, 2013, whether we are ready or not.

Ken has been feverishly remodeling the Raven to accommodate my needs and so that we have the most economical use of space possible. After travelling some over the past few summers, we really found out what would work best for us.

I am sorry I have not been around lately. As I mentioned, winter was very hard on me. The pain and the migraines were too much. I’m trying to find the quality in a life so full of pain, but it is difficult. Life goes on, even with the pain, and so we must get on the road. We must get on the road, especially if we plan on wintering down south this year.

It may be a month before I write again, but I will be back. Thank you for hanging in there. Thank you for all your prayers. I know there must be many souls out there praying for me, because I experience God’s miracles every day. Even in this life so full of pain. I am so grateful for all of you.

Our first destination is actually only about 50 miles away from home, but what a sendoff—spending the Fourth of July at the rodeo in St. Paul! Next will be Neskowin, to say goodbye to some friends. And then we travel in a generally southerly direction until we reach Mexico (at which time we will bounce off the border and stay put in New Mexico or Arizona for the winter).

The St. Paul Rodeo in St. Paul, Oregon, July 2-6, 2013.

See you then!

When It Rains

It pours.

Sometimes life can become a bit overwhelming. Stressors can pile up without older ones being cleared away first. When these stressors build up in a chronically ill person, or even a well person for that matter, the immune system becomes compromised. In my case, having chronic Lyme, all my stressors have caused a bit of a relapse, with more migraines and pain, plus more fatigue.

My main goal this month is to reduce my stress level; however, December has never been what one might call an optimum month for my mental health status. Long story short, I do not like this Season of Joy, as it has been called.

My best friend reminded me last night that all these things I am stressing and worrying about, I can do nothing about them.  I am still taking on everyone else’s problems despite my efforts not to do just that. Besides, those I might be able to change, the desired result is a long way off. In short, stop worrying. Let go.

If I would actually like to have a Season of Joy this year and have less stress weighing on me, then I need to seek that which I desire.

Add more joy. Daily.

And take each problem as it comes, examine it as to whether it is worth my time and energy, seek solutions if within my power, then let it go.

I can look at the entire storm raging around me, angry winds stripping the trees and rain pouring down.

Or I can look at a single droplet of rain, a single moment in time.

I can choose how I see things.

I can choose whether I react or respond.

This last raindrop picture is untouched except for cropping. I like to think it is God sending me a smiley face.

Have a joyous day. And thank you to all who have been praying for us.

Break Time

It has been a very busy week. Very busy indeed. And as such, this post will seem to be behind the times; for the busier I get, the behinder my writing falls.

This year for Halloween, we decided to join in the fun at our church (Mountainview Christian Church) by participating in Trunk or Treat. It was great fun. Our theme was the 50s and I had made a juke box and decorated the car a bit, too. Then someone asked if I was Julia Child. My intention was simply “50s mom,” but I liked the idea of being Julia Child, so I decided to let it stick. I believe we must give credit where credit is due, and as such, credit for the Julia Child idea goes to an anonymous parent. Thank you.

Some of the other entrants were absolutely amazing. A lot of time and thought had to have gone into each one. My friends, Tim and Kristina, did an awesome job remaking Alice in Wonderland. Though, this really isn’t any wonder, knowing that Kristina is such an amazing artist to begin with. You can check out her paintings on Etsy.

The only problem with having made the decision to do Trunk or Treat was that I was also preparing for a bazaar on November 3rd, which I had had only a few days’ notice in which to get my stuff together. I was cramming to get products made, and I was cramming to get costumes pulled together. Meanwhile, I was also cramming to get my homework done for my Friday night class at Renew. And, I had also made the decision to go see my dad in the midst of all this chaotic busy-ness.

And of course, right in the middle of it all, I worked myself into a physical setback by trying too hard and doing too much.

When we arrived home on Saturday evening, after having spent the entire day working at the bazaar, my legs gave out as I climbed the steps onto the porch. From there, it was all downhill. I slept, or rather I was in bed, delirious with pain and exhaustion, for the next 36 hours.

This morning found me slightly better, well enough to focus my mind on this simple task, at least. I could easily sleep another full day or two away, if it weren’t for my pesky drive. I cannot remain idle for too long. I feel guilty if I let things slide, or if I depend on others to do for me. I have always tried to hide my pain and my exhaustion from the world, but I can no longer hide what is so prevalent in my life. Unfortunately, all this guilt and hiding and unrelenting pain leads to a vicious cycle of try and fail and try and fail again, when my body cannot keep up with my drive and desire.

Putting a positive spin on it, however, I had a great week. I had a blast putting together costumes and seeing all those little kids dressed up. I had a wonderful lunch with my father and my son, three generations, having good conversation and laughter. I thoroughly enjoyed the creation process as I feverishly worked to make enough hats for the bazaar. During the bazaar, I enjoyed talking with many people whom I had not seen in a long while. And I really enjoyed seeing my photos and my creations displayed for sale.

Smile, and I Will Get By

The chill which is Portland Fall is officially upon us. I woke up crying this morning. All my joints felt as if they had been stretched beyond their limits, snapped back, and then twisted mercilessly. The chill was quick to set into my bones this year, quicker than any past. It is going to take a miracle to get me through another winter in Oregon.

I will definitely miss summer.

Oh, that magical season when my joints are nice and limber. Always in pain, but nice and limber in the summer, just the same.

This really isn’t that great of a picture of me, taken a few months ago, but I chose it to make a point. Once upon a time I was as flexible as a . . . well, maybe I will let your imagination run a bit. And I can still get into some awkward positions, even at my size and age. Now, bring your imagination back. I didn’t mean for it to go that far!

At any rate, I will miss summer.

Sometimes, no matter what we do, we just cannot get past the pain.

We cannot blink the tears away.

We cannot kiss all the boo boos bye bye.

We simply cannot wish away the pain, no matter how hard we try.

Sometimes, all we can do is distract ourselves, minute by minute, hopefully in healthy ways.

My art is my distraction. Along with the larger pieces I am working on, I have dabbled lately in some whimsy.

Whimsy is good for the soul, good for pain. So is laughing. Smiling. Hugging. Kissing. (Oops. Did I say that out loud?)

Can’t you just picture Charlie Chaplin as he sings about smiling through his pain? Hey, you don’t have to envision! Here’s a Youtube video for you to check out. It isn’t mine, but I thought you might enjoy it.

Smile, Charlie Chaplin

Smile, though your heart is aching
Smile, even though it is breaking
When there are clouds in the sky
You’ll get by…

If you smile
With your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You will find that life is still worthwhile
If you just…

Light up your face with gladness
Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear may be ever so near
That is the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what is the use of crying
You will find that life is still worthwhile
If you just…

Smile, though your heart is aching
Smile, even though it is breaking
When there are clouds in the sky
You’ll get by…

If you smile
Through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You will find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile…

That is the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what is the use of crying
You will find that life is still worthwhile

 

Blessings for a pain-free day, or at least one filled with laughter.

Love, Jenni Lynn