Perspectives

I did exercise in the past few days:  I typed for the first time in three weeks!

I also hiked.  This shot was accidental (which is probably why it looks good.)

We did the polka dot trail on the Willow Lake side of the Dells, out to Red Bridge and back.

Breathtaking, isn't it?  You'll never guess who took this picture (not me!)

On the hike, consistently Chris and I took pictures steps apart.  Consistently, his were better than mine.

I'm on top...

He's on top...

I'm back on top...

It's more than just the filter...

The difference is perspective.  I thoroughly acknowledge I have poor perspective in framing a shot, despite thirty years of trying.  Chris, on the other hand, has a natural eye (and maybe some training when he was in the Navy, hmmm?) for photographic perspective; it clearly shows.

Is exercise really about perspective?

Do I hate it because I have no natural aptitude for it?

Oh, I'm back to loathing.

Hiking, that's not exercise (although the BUCKETS of sweat I produced yesterday morning may suggest otherwise).  With my hand still not healed and being nowhere near able to load (no worries, Dr Eric, I'm being fairly good still) I'm still not doing traditional exercise, even though I could.

I hate it, you see.

My perspective is totally skewed back to its negative original.

This, despite no visit from the air monster.

It was too early for him to show up...

And rather surprisingly, my excuse monster stayed home, too.

He left his tshirt with me, though:)

Natural perspective.

Something that is not apparent in my photography or my attitude towards exercise.

My current fitness routine.

I was deep in thought here...

Perspective. Can it be changed?  Or is it something we are stuck with?

I'm of the perspective we can win the National Championship...always am until the season starts!!  

Maybe I'll never like exercise...but can I at least change my perspective?  A fine question.  I'd rather not have to, unless it's fun.  Hiking is fun.  The rest?  I guess I still need to find out.

No pain...interesting observations.

Not a lick of exercise this entire week.

Hanging out with the dogs.

I have no energy, but remarkably, my lower back doesn't hurt and I've not had tremors.

Could it be the Bowenwork and Neuromathie?

Nicole Charron has done my sessions about every two weeks; with my recent tiebreaks my exercise regime has ground to a halt.

Yet no tremors.  More importantly, no back pain.

Without squats.

Hmmmmmm.

Not a Mere Coincidence

Yesterday, I glanced at my odometer and it read 198,188.  I thought about how frequently that odometer has ended recently with a zero, a five or an excessive number of eights, and I just happen to see it.

We live waaaay out of town.  I typically drive over 100 miles a day, and believe you drive a paid off vehicle until it dies or you no longer need it.

I noted once again the happy tick in my heart at coincidentally seeing a "fun number," and knew in an instant it was no coincidence.

I'm not happy right now.  As an eternal optimist these past 44 years, this period of injury is getting on my last nerve.  Add in an assortment of other issues (like dogs pooping in the house and shredding shoes, teen drama, the inability to scrub my shower, discord with the King and complete disenchantment with several organizations and people) and these are days to just get through.

But up pops an unexpected 8.

Born on 8-8.  I could bore you with the litany of why 8 is the best number, but I am only able to type with my thumb.

I love the number 8.  My family knows it, and some of my friends.  Then there's the one who introduced me to the world on 8-8.

The Big Guy Upstairs.

It occurs to me that when my kids are down, I do little things to remind them I love them.  Could these little "fun numbers" and my momentary attention on them be nothing more than my Heavenly Father pointing them out to me? Afterall, they certainly make me smile.

I love the Lord my God with all my heart and soul.  He is the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End.  As a former widow, I have experienced the Maker as my husband.  I truly feel I know God, that He is more than a Father.  My faith in the Trinity has never wavered; Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior.  These foundational truths remain constant.

However.

 In the past few years, I've become very discouraged by the behavior of those who say they follow Christ; it's impacted my life so many times for the worse.  My crisis of faith is primarily with the church, not with God.

Oh, God and I do get into it, but every time I find peace with Him.  I've known, and still know, the peace that passes all understanding (as it mounts up and guards my heart...I'm an amplified girl.  You shouldn't be the least bit surprised.). On the other hand, I have no peace with the church.  In many ways, I understand those who feel it owes the world an apology.

I'm broken right now.  Literally and figuratively.  As I grapple with life decisions, I am reminded my God is mighty to save.  I long for a community of believers to stand beside me.

I've learned the hard way I can trust no one.  The callouses are getting thick.

Unless it's callus, not callous.

Bone callus is that cloudy stuff on my X-ray's that means the bone tissue is reorganizing, stabilizing and starting to heal.  What if the body of Christ was like callus instead?  A support for healing?

My God is loving, patient and kind.  It is my belief it's been Him who was drawn my attention repeatedly to these "fun numbers," just as a parent distracts a hurt child.  Despite my doubts, sins and fears, He's showing me love in a creative way probably only I'd receive...because that's who He is.  My Maker, my Creator.

There's tremendous comfort in that.

The Benefits of owning a Time Machine

Many years ago, Mackinac became a favorite vacation destination for our family.  Charlton was a baby the first time we visited the island; we regularly took our fall break in Mackinaw City.

Lad, age 4 in 2004, and two weeks ago, nearly 15, at Colonial Michilimackinac.

Clearly, the boy has doubled in size.

I recall asking him to stand against the gun for the first photo, thinking ahead to future visits, and thinking how fun it would be to chart his growth.  We had three or four pictures, but with our move to Arizona, a looming five year gap emerged.

This is one of the reasons I wanted so badly to get Up North on our visit home...it's as close to a time machine as any other thing.

http://youtu.be/ecL6XCuO3Fw

Yes, I own a real time machine.  It's called memory.  Interestingly, not many want to take a trip in their own time machines, and even go so far as to deny their existence.

I love my time machine.

Recently I learned how to utilize my time machine to improve my future.  My still broken hand has left me discouraged and frustrated; it's been hard making lemonade when I used up all of the sugar.

Then I realized I could have iced tea with lemon instead.

My preferred beverage of choice at any given time, no sugar needed (I'm from the North; enough said.)

Nope, I didn't need to steampunk a new brace.

Although one must admit the dragonfly IS a lovely touch...

...it's time to learn how to write with my left.

Oh, it's frustrating, and I am DESPERATE to be able to type (I blog with my left thumb.). I spent HOURS today trying to write with dictation apps, only to get discouraged again.

If at first you don't succeed...

I had forgotten.

With nothing but one hike a week to my name, I had forgotten what I had learned in my Quest.

As days turned to weeks and now months with an injury, I had overlooked the solution:  try something new.

My six-year-old-like scratches became more legible this week.  You can read it now.

That and Disney announced this:

Afterall, a ride in the Falcon would solve everything, right?!

Yes, I'm still frustrated.  But I'm moving forward.

Better yet, I've turned my back on an old stumbling block and refused to even deal with it.

What good is a time machine if you don't use it?

And what good are lemons not added to your tea? 

There is good in this world; I will find it.

Grandkitten Thor is one of those good things.

Still having a right hand is one of those things.

Coffee is definitely one of those things.

As is art (Nisbet's Yellow Waves.  Love, love, love!!)

There's too much in this world to be thankful for and to enjoy to stay down for long.

And my time machine helped me get there.

Don't count your chickens...

My sister in law has chickens now.

We actually gave all my birthday guests a dozen fresh eggs as their party favor.

Each chicken has a name, and she dotes on them like pets.  Watching her with her chicks, I knew the great affection she held for them.  Another friend in Michigan also had a small flock, and I knew she enjoyed them just as much.  I thought it a tad odd she failed to turn up for my party, and worried something was wrong.

A stray dog had attacked and killed all of her chickens.  Needless to say, she was numb from the loss.

This is me, all geeked because my cast was coming off.

And this is me when I found out the hand was still broken (or should I say rebroken,  for the third time.)

Not happy.

Oh, it gets worse.

It's a dark place to be.

Four months.  Four months of making the best of it.  Four months of making it work.  Four months of just waiting to be normal again, so I can get on with life.

Not gonna happen.

My entire life, I've looked for the good.  Blessed others.  Made the best of things, and never said never.

I'm just numb.

I know these are simply days to get through.  I know the best is yet to be.

But I'm so tired.

Tired of being kind, then trampled on.  Tired of looking for the best, when everyone looks at me for the worse. Tired of having given, only to be told it's not enough, or, worse yet, that I must be trying to get something out of it.

Oh, it's not the worse thing that could happen.  I'm not stupid, and many other things are much more challenging.  Look, my husband died when I was 24; technically a four month long broken hand is a blip in comparison.

It's just that I'm so tired of hurting.

Of people not caring.

Of being let down by one, then another, and another.

Oh, I'll continually give freely-I won't change that.  I can't change that-it's who I am.  I'm not prone to bitterness.

I am prone to think obsessively on how others think ill of me, however.  My time machine revealed that as a huge stumbling block.

So now I'm in front of my stumbling block, with a thrice broken hand.  If I jump over it, I could snap my hand (it is how I broke it the second time.). If I try to walk around it, I might trip (which was the third break.)

So I'm going to turn around and walk away from it.

I acknowledge the rejection.

Again.

But this time?  

Bluebirds.

I need to learn how to fly.

The Voyage Home

That was THEE BEST Star Trek movie, btw.

Humor, time travel & saving whales.  What could be better?

In Michigan, I did a little time traveling of my own.

Alma mater, wise and glorious, shrine of light and home of truth.

The tastes of the past.

Plums.  My beloved Skow's Berry Farm plums.

Roads that used to often be taken.

And flowers we still collect and give.

Rob's Humpty Do violet, my gift to Tiff two years ago.

You can go home again, and it was nice to spend time among loved ones and friends.

But first, let me take a selfie.

No exercise other than leisurely strolls.

No demands on my time.

I'm exhausted by it all.

Bowie is happy to be exhausted with me.

Cast is off Tuesday; meeting with our realtor this week.  Changes for the better.

Now if only I didn't have to start exercising again...

...double chin.  Guess I don't have a choice.

Oh, joy.

The race to Mackinac

Unfortunately, no yachts were involved.

Last week I posted this.

I couldn't wait to get here; it actually got me on the plane.  I have said for awhile a week to myself might do me good; three nights by myself were bliss. Sunday morning I cried getting ready, and blubbered on the way to the shuttle.

Only Mackinac drew me east.

I wore a long flowy maxi, my newly skinned knees (did I mention I took a tumble in front of 20 people at work Friday in a dress?) needing a break from rubbing jeans and suggestive comments.  A former road warrior, I tossed socks and a sweater in my beloved striped Coach carry-on, and on a last second impulse snatched the pillow from my bed.

Alas, it's the Katy.  Not Katie.  

And then I cried some more.

It's my first trip since lia ended; my first trip that doesn't include business.  

I miss it so much.

There was no jewelry to pack, no training to prepare.  No need to be "on" and no one to inspire.

I hate it.

While I love my new job, I miss my old life.

At least I still get to wear Elie Tahari and great jewelry!

So maybe Mackinac will bring me some peace?

I leave at 7am, and touch down in Detroit at 5:45pm.

The road trip begins immediately north, but all I can see is my double chin.

Alex does all the driving; it's awesome having a nephew whose almost 20.

I missed him!

We checked in just shy of 11pm.

Today dawned brilliant.

BFF Carol.  Note my flat hair-no blow dryer.

Strike One:  Arnold Line got rid of their catamarans.  Which meant Slow Boat.

Before we waited an hour...

Strike Two:  Lunch took an hour to arrive at the Seabiscuit Cafe (but the painted pony macaroni kinda made up for it.)

But the weather was perfect, and all five of us made it up to the fort.

View from the canon.

Carol and I went to the east blockhouse, and I thought of the gazebo...was it still there?

A hike uphill was necessary:)

I'm fat again, but love spending time with these three!

This is the Somewhere in Time gazebo.

Anne's Tablet.  My Grama, Anne, loved this spot.

The hike back to town wasn't much of a "hike" per se...

114 steps down.

We then got bikes, and headed inland.

Stonecliffe.

So many happy memories; riding the bike to the mansion I finally felt calm.

We then headed to the airport, and down to British Landing, 201 years minus one day after the battle.

We went very fast 😜

These two!

Of course, no trip around the island is complete without a favorite stop.

"Is it you?"

Too soon, we were on the dock.

Bidding goodbye.

It will be awhile before I return.

Tired.

I guess I'm still looking.