Sunday, March 10, 2013

Meatfare Sunday

Today was a good day. This morning we missed Sunday School. Although we knew about daylight saving Spring forward, and all that, our bodies just did not want to cooperate. But that is OK. We made it to Divine Liturgy and that's the most important thing.

Our family did not stay for the Meatfare potluck at coffee hour because Eric stayed home sick and because we have food issues. It's just easier to eat at home. Lunch was just sandwiches. Usually when we get to meatfare Sunday at our house, we are sort of down to the dregs, and so food was basic today: Turkey lunch meat sandwiches for lunch, Pasta with meat sauce for dinner. And Ice cream for dessert. Dairy free ice ceam that is not homemade is meh, but I pretended.

But this afternoon (I'm so thrilled) I actually had energy and I DID STUFF!!!! I did a bit of mending/alterations on a couple of skirts, and I went to Walmart to get some velcro and elastic and the like...and found some fabric on sale for two more skirts (and that will take care of my summer wardrobe needs).

And then Wes and I went to the Peddler's Mall, and found some treasures. I'm collecting pretty china plates to hang on my side of my bedroom (if I were rich and had a big house I'd wish for my own room. He snores, I toss and turn and good heavens, I want a pink shabby chic rose bedecked boudoir and he just doesn't go for that!)

Home again, dinner. Ice cream. A bit more sewing. It was a wonderful day.



And now, for me since I am already dairy free, the fasting begins. I pray that God gives me the strength to fast more and better and more sincerely than I have in years past...to really confront my passions. I pray for strength. And I will take it one day at a time. I don't expect to be perfect. Lord have mercy.

Saturday, March 09, 2013

Pain.

This pain is a prison.
It hems me in.
My body is not free.
Pain is exhausting.
Pain robs me of sleep.
A deep ache in my bones.
Bruises inside my elbows.
Shooting niggles of nerve pain through my side, across my back.
Muscle aches in my shoulders.
Bone aches in my hands and arms.
Tingling in my toes.
Numbness on my feet, crawling up my legs.
Shooting pain in my shoulder that limits its range of motion.

And I’m tired.

Pain feels like a cage.
Am I a canary with clipped wings?
Have I even forgotten how to sing?
Do I have a voice?
Can I still think?

My mind is numb, dealing with pain.
I have thoughts and then I lose them.
But most of the time, I am too dull to think of very much at all.
My body does not work.

But my heart does.
Inside my heart, there is light.
Inside my heart is freedom.
Inside my heart there is joy.

Christ is there.

Heaven is there.
All the Saints are there.
And even when I am too tired from pain to think, or to work...I can still BE.
I can BE and I can LOVE and I can PRAY.

O Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Thursday, March 07, 2013

Here We Go Again

Start with the usual pre-lenten post about anticipation: Menu planning. Recipes. Stack of spiritual books I almost never end up reading. Cutting back on electronic media

Whip up some froth about piety and saintliness.

Add in one's own very sinful human reality. Blend with a half cup of daily grind.

Mix thoroughly.

Allow to simmer for two months.

Lent.

Friday, March 01, 2013

My First Pedicure

I’m such a clod. No, really, I am. A friend invited me to go get a pedicure together, and I thought that would be a good idea. It was lots of fun. But I felt sort of like an elephant in a china shop...or was the a bull? It doesn’t matter.

The first thing I did wrong, is that I wore normal shoes and socks. My friend came out wearing flip flops, which is a logical thing to wear when one is going to get a pedi. It just never occurred to me. I figured they had magical toenail polish drying wands or something.

So, we get to the salon, which was lovely, and in a rather arty part of town, in a refurbished victorian house. Lovely atmosphere. The chairs were big and decently comfortable, with a foot tub attached to the base. It was all very nice. So I picked a color and a foot lotion, and the lady led me to a chair and I rolled up my pants, took off my shoes and socks (of the brown sweaty variety) and sat down. The water was blissfully hot and felt great everywhere except that one spot where I accidentally cut my foot open the other day when I set up the ironing board-with it’s metal base/sharp edge on my foot and made it bleed. The part that was still healing burned like the dickens. But ah, I am great at ignoring pain, so I went into bliss mode and decided to enjoy myself.

A nice Asian lady sat down and started working on my feet. Perhaps she did not speak English. The young man working on my friend’s feet did, though, and we all chatted. My lady had a pinched look on her face. Although I had shaved the fur off my toes before going, my toenails took her twice as long to trim, shape and repair as the attention required for my friend’s toenails. I didn’t really look when the brought out the sharp cuticle trimming instruments. Oh no, can’t look at that!

Then there was the massage, gel. Oh dear goodness, they are gonna massage all the way up to my KNEES???? Ordinarily, for a person with experience this would not be so bad...but me, never having done this before....well, I shaved half way up to my knees. Oh dear oh dear oh dear!

The pinchy look turned into a grim pinchy look. Oh dear. She kept working, though.

So eventually all the scrubbing and buffing and massaging and polishing comes to an end. I get presented with a pair of disposable flip flops (thank goodness!) and she paints my toenails. Lovely coral pink.

Then it’s time to move over to the drying station. I climb down. I pick up my purse and the bottom of my purse smears across my left big toe. Oh dear oh dear oh dear! I sheepishly tell the lady what I did...and stick my foot back on the base of the chair and she re-paints that toenail. Trust ME to botch a professional nail painting job. So I got my purse, my jacket, my shoes...and head over to the drying stand. A minute later, here comes the nice young man that did my friend’s feet...with my ugly sweaty brown socks that had fallen out of my shoes.

Oh dear oh dear oh dear!

“Oh, sorry about that. Thanks.” I don’t look him in the eye. I stuff them into my purse as fast as I can.

Needless to say, I left a big tip.

I’ve alway joked about needing a farrier instead of a pedicure. The reason is, that one of the symptoms of low thyroid is really thick and cracking skin on your feet. There’s a medical reason for the horror. This morning I woke up and found a spot on my feet that cracked during the night. This happens from time to time. So now I have cute toenails and a giant bandage on the side of my foot.

I think I need to do this again someday, though. I could get addicted. And next time, I won’t be such a clod. I promise.