This is the year I'm taking control of my life. . . again. Yeah, I think this will be a perpetual goal for me, but after gaining all the weight back that I had lost two years ago, it's time to really be serious about it all. My arms are feeling my resolve.
I realized I had to make a "Not Allowed to Eat" list. This sounds drastic, but just like people who are trying to quit a serious addiction, I need motivation. Serious motivation. I have an addiction. It's to food, namely sugar. The "Not Allowed" foods are foods that I can't just eat a treat. I seem to make a meal of them and can't stop. I'm very specific in my foods, unless I have a problem with all kinds. For example, on the top of my list is doughnuts. I can eat any doughnut anywhere anytime and I can eat many, many doughnuts at a time. The problem is I can't stop. Okay, not can't, but won't. I find some justification of why I can eat that doughnut every time.
Another food is cookie dough. Yikes, I know, right?! No, cookies is not on the list, just cookie dough. Next is potato chips, not tortilla chips. While their caloric intake is about the same, I can stop eating tortilla chips, I can eat an entire bag of potato chips, and I have to include Doritos in the potato chip category even though technically they're tortilla chips.
Other foods are tootsie rolls, sugared cereals, (I don't care if they say "whole grain," if they say "Fruit Loops, etc.," they're out!), Milk Duds, french fries, maple syrup (do you know how many calories are in that stuff?!), fast food shakes, and full-size candy bars or larger. As I find myself gorging certain foods that are unhealthy, they're added to the list.
Okay, so you have a list, LeMira, that's good and all, but how are you going to be certain you don't justify eating those foods? Good question. I have a consequence. Each time I eat those foods, I have to do 20 push-ups beyond my regular work-out. Last night I didn't get to eat dinner until nearly 10:00 p.m., and I poured myself a bowl of Fruity Pebbles. I told myself that I can handle 20 extra push-ups, no big deal. Then, I did the exact same thing this morning. Let me tell you, two bowls of sugared cereal were NOT WORTH 40 extra push-ups. I had already done 30, and my arms were "Jell-O." Don't worry, as the arms get stronger, the consequence will get harder. Maybe one day it will be pull-ups. . . I cringe just thinking about that.
Today when I go stock up on cereal, I'll be sure to by something NOT full of sugar. You can bet on that.
Showing posts with label lessons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lessons. Show all posts
Friday, February 10, 2012
Sunday, August 21, 2011
My Apologies
Dear Congregation (in my church building today),
I'm sorry to say that the song you heard today in Sacrament Meeting was in fact, NOT the one I had been practicing for eight months. Indeed, it wasn't even the same as the one I practiced that very morning. Something happened between the time I stood up to walk to the piano and when I sat down at the instrument -- all 25 steps.
Apparently, my super hero senses kicked in the moment I sat on the bench and suddenly I could hear every movement, every crumpling paper, and every child's whisper despite the mental brick wall I built between the 150 people and me. At the same time that my super keen hearing power kicked in, an earthquake began. Well, it must have been an earthquake because for some reason, my entire being was shaking, and no amount of self-talk or deep breathing could make it stop. The shaking started in my feet and ran through to the top of my head.
Somehow the keys got switched during all that shaking because the notes I played weren't the ones written. The earthquake significantly slowed my playing as I was having a difficult time controlling where to put my fingers. Also, I think I must have been abducted by aliens for a brief minute because at one point, I had no idea what I had played or what I was to play next. The very awkward moments that followed while I guessed where to strike the next keys were excruciatingly embarrassing. I finished the song, thank heavens, with the correct notes.
I couldn't bear to look up at anyone as I returned to my seat. Somehow, the shaking had ceased. The piano-centered earthquake only lasted the duration of my musical number. Even thought the shaking had ceased, the waterfall began. I desperately began searching for tissues as I tried to contain the leaking from my eyes. The anger and shame seared my face, and I wanted to run. Only the thought of drawing more attention to myself kept me glued to my seat.
My husband let me silently cry and held my hand. He said I sounded great, and that even though there were mistakes, I performed wonderfully. My ever-supportive sister-in-law, who turned the pages for me, handed me the tissues and was completely empathetic (she plays the piano as well). (Later on, after we returned home, my husband reminded me that it had been 11 years since I'd performed publicly, and that it would only improve if I kept practicing and performing for people.) Immediately, the scripture passage from Ether 12:27 came to mind. It states,
Yep, my weakness was glaring me in the face. No matter the time and effort I put into practicing a song, I can't perform in public. I don't do it. That is my weakness. No matter how flawless I play at home, when I sit in front of a crowd of people, it sounds as if I haven't practiced in months. That is my weakness.
Yet, the promise is strong. The promise is that if I have faith, then the Lord will make this weakness become a strength. If I practice and perform more, the Lord will make this easy for me. I will get good at it. Perhaps not in a year or in two years, but eventually.
With the performance over, the emotions running dry, and the support of wonderful family members and some good friends who said kind words to me after the service, I'm ready to pick a new song. I'm ready to play again. As my childhood friend told me, "If the horse bucks you off, you get right back up and get on." This morning, I felt bucked off, but I'm happy to say that I'm going to get back on.
To the friend who said, "Good job, LeMira, I didn't know you could play like that," I say, "thank you." That is what I needed to hear; you gave me the courage to climb back up on that horse. Thank you for telling me that you were impressed (because that's the attitude in which she said it). I'm not a flawless player, but I sure tried my best. While I'm not happy with the outcome, I can say that I finally achieved something I hadn't been able to do in 11 years. I performed a solo in public, and I hope I can again.
To my friends in the congregation, thank you for allowing me to be shown my weakness and for giving me the chance to learn how to make it a strength.
Most Sincerely,
LeMira
I'm sorry to say that the song you heard today in Sacrament Meeting was in fact, NOT the one I had been practicing for eight months. Indeed, it wasn't even the same as the one I practiced that very morning. Something happened between the time I stood up to walk to the piano and when I sat down at the instrument -- all 25 steps.
Apparently, my super hero senses kicked in the moment I sat on the bench and suddenly I could hear every movement, every crumpling paper, and every child's whisper despite the mental brick wall I built between the 150 people and me. At the same time that my super keen hearing power kicked in, an earthquake began. Well, it must have been an earthquake because for some reason, my entire being was shaking, and no amount of self-talk or deep breathing could make it stop. The shaking started in my feet and ran through to the top of my head.
Somehow the keys got switched during all that shaking because the notes I played weren't the ones written. The earthquake significantly slowed my playing as I was having a difficult time controlling where to put my fingers. Also, I think I must have been abducted by aliens for a brief minute because at one point, I had no idea what I had played or what I was to play next. The very awkward moments that followed while I guessed where to strike the next keys were excruciatingly embarrassing. I finished the song, thank heavens, with the correct notes.
I couldn't bear to look up at anyone as I returned to my seat. Somehow, the shaking had ceased. The piano-centered earthquake only lasted the duration of my musical number. Even thought the shaking had ceased, the waterfall began. I desperately began searching for tissues as I tried to contain the leaking from my eyes. The anger and shame seared my face, and I wanted to run. Only the thought of drawing more attention to myself kept me glued to my seat.
My husband let me silently cry and held my hand. He said I sounded great, and that even though there were mistakes, I performed wonderfully. My ever-supportive sister-in-law, who turned the pages for me, handed me the tissues and was completely empathetic (she plays the piano as well). (Later on, after we returned home, my husband reminded me that it had been 11 years since I'd performed publicly, and that it would only improve if I kept practicing and performing for people.) Immediately, the scripture passage from Ether 12:27 came to mind. It states,
And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.
Yep, my weakness was glaring me in the face. No matter the time and effort I put into practicing a song, I can't perform in public. I don't do it. That is my weakness. No matter how flawless I play at home, when I sit in front of a crowd of people, it sounds as if I haven't practiced in months. That is my weakness.
Yet, the promise is strong. The promise is that if I have faith, then the Lord will make this weakness become a strength. If I practice and perform more, the Lord will make this easy for me. I will get good at it. Perhaps not in a year or in two years, but eventually.
With the performance over, the emotions running dry, and the support of wonderful family members and some good friends who said kind words to me after the service, I'm ready to pick a new song. I'm ready to play again. As my childhood friend told me, "If the horse bucks you off, you get right back up and get on." This morning, I felt bucked off, but I'm happy to say that I'm going to get back on.
To the friend who said, "Good job, LeMira, I didn't know you could play like that," I say, "thank you." That is what I needed to hear; you gave me the courage to climb back up on that horse. Thank you for telling me that you were impressed (because that's the attitude in which she said it). I'm not a flawless player, but I sure tried my best. While I'm not happy with the outcome, I can say that I finally achieved something I hadn't been able to do in 11 years. I performed a solo in public, and I hope I can again.
To my friends in the congregation, thank you for allowing me to be shown my weakness and for giving me the chance to learn how to make it a strength.
Most Sincerely,
LeMira
Thursday, September 16, 2010
You Said It!
If you spend any time researching adoption or reading blogs about adoption, I guarantee that sooner or later you will find a post about what not to say or what the proper adoption language is. I have read multiple posts from different points of view about this particular subject. You will even find disagreements about this as well.
Here are some of my favorite posts:
How much did YOUR kid cost? by Dan at Single Dad Laughing
Adoption Thoughts by Esther
How to Irritate a Birth Mother by Jill Elizabeth at The Happiest Sad
After reading some of these posts, you may be thinking, "Wow, these people sure are sensitive! Why do they get so offended easily?" Guess what?! It's time we give adoption the respect it deserves! Adoption is DANG HARD for anyone involved. There is loss all around in adoption, and there is joy, but it is very fragile.
Sometimes we think asking someone how much an adoption cost is a trivial question, but it's not. What if a perfect stranger came up to you while you're with your child and asked, "How much were your medical bills for that child? Were you on Medicaid? How much did you end up having to pay out?" (I can come up with more examples, but I think you get the point.)
You'd think that person was ludicrous and completely out of line, and you'd tell them (or want to tell them) to mind their own business. Why is it different with adoption? Why do people feel like they need to know or that they can just ask/say anything?
About a year ago I did a post on Infertility Etiquette, remember? I just want to repost something I stated in that blog entry:
Also, we have to remember that people say insensitive things without meaning to. They just do. Instead of getting angry and bitter, I've found that it's much better if something said really bothers me (meaning I can't just let it roll off my back), that I should educate them and let them know without being rude or critical. Chances are that they'll feel guilty even if I was polite and informative.People ask/say insensitive things about adoption because THEY DON'T KNOW! When Matt and I were first married, it was common to ask or to hear, "When are you going to start your family? How many kids do you want? Are you pregnant?" I admit that I was guilty of asking those things. Why? I was curious what other people were thinking because I was trying to wrap my head around and decide what I wanted to do in life, and at that point I had NO CLUE that a many women experience miscarriage, loss, and infertility.
Guess what? Even though our curiosity is natural, those questions are completely inappropriate. The same goes with adoption. It's none of anyone's business what my husband and I decide in regards to our family. If you're relationship is close enough, you will know if you can ask those questions, or more likely, you will already know them because your friend has told you.
As I talked to Matt about this subject yesterday, we talked about what we would say in response to some of these inappropriate adoption questions. Our response, "I know you may not mean to offend, and I don't mean to be offensive to you, but I just want you to know that the questions you're asking are actually very inappropriate."
There is a time and a place to ask questions. Think about it first. Is it really that important? Just as we want people to be sensitive to our situations and needs, we need to reciprocate that behavior. Oh, wait, I think I just spouted off the Golden Rule.
My friends who know me well, know that they can ask me anything. I'm someone who is willing to answer any question, even if asked anonymously, because I'm an open person, and that's how I learn and decide my true feelings. So, I've decided to add a Formspring widget to the left side of my blog. Is there something you're dying to know about me? It can be anything, and you can ask anonymously. My one request, play nicely. (I do reserve the right to not answer your question if I feel it's inappropriate, but chances are that I will.)
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
What I am Not
I am NOT 29, I am officially the big 30. (Natalie would have you believe that's old, but that's because she's not there yet.)
I am NOT going to have a cake today, I am going to have Cheesecake. (That's what I've requested at least, and the hubby better pull through!!! Just kidding, hun, I love you, but really, that's what I want.)
I am NOT who I was six months ago. I am discovering who I am, and I am embracing that.
I am NOT blind in adoption anymore. I am no longer seeing adoption through my own eyes, I have found whole new sets of eyes (more to come on that later). Adoption is not what I thought it was 3 years ago, it is more.
I am NOT ungrateful for what I have. I cherish my family: Matt, Jackson, and Clarissa. If that's all I ever have in this life, then I accept.
I am NOT a plus size 24 anymore or EVER AGAIN! I haven't been a 24 in over a year, but I refuse to have my dress size grow with my age. In fact, it better keep shrinking for a while.
I am NOT silent anymore. I am learning how to use my voice, no matter how painful it is for me. In many ways, silence cuts deeper than the words that would heal.
I am NOT a quitter. I have found the more you endure and push through, the stronger you get.
I am NOT alone. Sometimes it takes pulling away to realize the support you have. The key is to not let go of the rope that they are supporting you with. You hold tight and pull yourself back in. If you let go of the rope, they let go because they see you don't want it.
The biggest thing I've discovered this year: 29 is not the end, it is only the beginning. I'm so excited to be 30 -- now I feel all "growed" up!
Happy Birthday to Me!
I am NOT going to have a cake today, I am going to have Cheesecake. (That's what I've requested at least, and the hubby better pull through!!! Just kidding, hun, I love you, but really, that's what I want.)
I am NOT who I was six months ago. I am discovering who I am, and I am embracing that.
I am NOT blind in adoption anymore. I am no longer seeing adoption through my own eyes, I have found whole new sets of eyes (more to come on that later). Adoption is not what I thought it was 3 years ago, it is more.
I am NOT ungrateful for what I have. I cherish my family: Matt, Jackson, and Clarissa. If that's all I ever have in this life, then I accept.
I am NOT a plus size 24 anymore or EVER AGAIN! I haven't been a 24 in over a year, but I refuse to have my dress size grow with my age. In fact, it better keep shrinking for a while.
I am NOT silent anymore. I am learning how to use my voice, no matter how painful it is for me. In many ways, silence cuts deeper than the words that would heal.
I am NOT a quitter. I have found the more you endure and push through, the stronger you get.
I am NOT alone. Sometimes it takes pulling away to realize the support you have. The key is to not let go of the rope that they are supporting you with. You hold tight and pull yourself back in. If you let go of the rope, they let go because they see you don't want it.
The biggest thing I've discovered this year: 29 is not the end, it is only the beginning. I'm so excited to be 30 -- now I feel all "growed" up!
Happy Birthday to Me!
Saturday, May 15, 2010
The Day He Lived
Six years ago today, on Saturday, May 15, 2004, Matt and I were emotionally drained but motivated for the new day. Our baby Jackson, who was residing in the NICU at Primary Children's Medical Center, was deathly ill, again. Two days earlier we were told to say our good-byes because the doctors weren't sure how much longer he could hang on. Jackson had infection throughout his entire body. In a matter of a few days, he went from weighing about 6 pounds to 13 pounds. His tissues were swollen (imagine what a swollen ankle feels like, and then imagine your entire body that way), so swollen, that his eyes were shut, and he was laid out spread-eagle on his back. His skin was a shiny, sickly yellow.
Matt and I spent Thursday night on a twin bed in small, closet-like room in the hospital. We didn't sleep a wink. The next day, Jackson seemed to be doing better, and so we went home and spent Friday night in our own beds. Saturday we were looking forward to good numbers for Jackson. We arrived that morning around 10 a.m. happy to see our boy, hoping for a miracle. As we bent over his bed, trying to say cheerful words, the door opened and in walked a herd of doctors. We knew at that moment when we were accosted by at least six different types of doctors and medical staff that something was different that day. Included in the posse were the head neonatalogist, Jackson's attending neonatalogist, a pediatric surgeon, Jackson's nurse practitioner, a doctor from the division of Infectious Disease, a respiratory therapist, and his attending nurse.
In a moment, our hope of a good day was shattered, blasted through the window. What we heard next was hard to digest, "We don't know what's wrong, and he's not getting any better. The neonatalogist, Dr. M., believes that there is something in his abdomen, like a blood clot or piece of intestine, that is causing the infection to linger; the surgeon, Dr. S., doesn't think so since nothing showed up on the ultrasound. Here are your choices. 1. We can do an exploratory surgery to see if we can find the source of infection. or 2. We can do nothing and just continue hoping that the antibiotics start working and that he gets better on his own. What would you like us to do? We need an answer ASAP."
Um. . . uh, what? A million questions raced through our minds and out of our mouths. Jackson was on the most powerful antiobiotics in the world, a morphine drip to control pain, and was still recovering from his highly invasive "take-down" surgery (the doctors put his bowels back together). He wasn't two weeks out, which is the minimum amount of time a surgeon requires between surgeries in the same spot. Which choice was better in the doctors' opinion? Depended upon who you asked. Basically, either choice could kill him. Our choice. . .
We asked for a private room. There we broke. Crushed, sobbing, defeated. Three and a half months of nauseous ups and downs were at a climax. We fell to our knees, pleading to know what we should do. The entire time, I had a lingering thought that this experience was preparing us for something, something that would come later.
Our answer: we need to consult with the attending neonatalogist again. His opinion was that we needed to find the source of infection. There was something different about this doctor. We could tell, so we asked, "Are you LDS?" Yes, he was. It was plain to see that he was worthy of the Holy Ghost because we could feel him there. He left the room, and we prayed again.
For the first time, we gave Jackson back to the Lord. We said the words, "He is yours, we give him back to you, if that is your plan for Jackson; but if he is to stay, lead us right." Matt and I decided that if Jackson were going to die, we would want to know if there was something causing the infection anyway. So, we decided for the exploratory surgery, even though we knew Jackson might not even survive the trip to the OR. We called all of our family members nearby; we didn't want to feel alone. Two sisters, a brother (and their spouses), our bishop and some friends came and sat with us.
Twenty minutes later, the phone in the hospice room rang. The surgery was done; Jackson was STABLE!!! And. . . nothing. There was nothing there. The surgeon came back and talked with us. "Your son will not survive the night. I sewed him up so quickly because he was bleeding so much, but he's not going to make it." I did not break at that moment. Why? Deep down inside, I knew, I knew that Jackson was going to live. The Lord had promised that I would get to raise my son. I looked straight into the surgeon's eyes and nodded. (I'm also not one to discount the medical professional's expert opinion. Reality exists, and I must accept all outcomes as possible.)
We closed the day with the Bishop giving Jackson a blessing. He told Jackson that he would live and fight off the infection as long as his family had faith and believed that he would. I called my mom, and we scheduled a family and ward fast for the next day, Sunday.
Matt and I slept at the hospital right across from Jackson's room. I woke up once, in the morning. I knew at once that meant Jackson was ALIVE. No one came to get us; we slept the most peacefully that night than we had the previous three months. Sure enough, Jackson's color was dramatically changed, and from that day on, he only got better. Within two weeks, he was breathing on his own and was transferred back to our hospital. Within two months (only because he was finishing out his antibiotic), he was home.
Jackson six years ago:
This is my little boy today:
I thank the Lord every day that He let us keep Jackson.
Oh, and what did Jackson prepare the way for? His little sister, Clarissa.
Matt and I spent Thursday night on a twin bed in small, closet-like room in the hospital. We didn't sleep a wink. The next day, Jackson seemed to be doing better, and so we went home and spent Friday night in our own beds. Saturday we were looking forward to good numbers for Jackson. We arrived that morning around 10 a.m. happy to see our boy, hoping for a miracle. As we bent over his bed, trying to say cheerful words, the door opened and in walked a herd of doctors. We knew at that moment when we were accosted by at least six different types of doctors and medical staff that something was different that day. Included in the posse were the head neonatalogist, Jackson's attending neonatalogist, a pediatric surgeon, Jackson's nurse practitioner, a doctor from the division of Infectious Disease, a respiratory therapist, and his attending nurse.
In a moment, our hope of a good day was shattered, blasted through the window. What we heard next was hard to digest, "We don't know what's wrong, and he's not getting any better. The neonatalogist, Dr. M., believes that there is something in his abdomen, like a blood clot or piece of intestine, that is causing the infection to linger; the surgeon, Dr. S., doesn't think so since nothing showed up on the ultrasound. Here are your choices. 1. We can do an exploratory surgery to see if we can find the source of infection. or 2. We can do nothing and just continue hoping that the antibiotics start working and that he gets better on his own. What would you like us to do? We need an answer ASAP."
Um. . . uh, what? A million questions raced through our minds and out of our mouths. Jackson was on the most powerful antiobiotics in the world, a morphine drip to control pain, and was still recovering from his highly invasive "take-down" surgery (the doctors put his bowels back together). He wasn't two weeks out, which is the minimum amount of time a surgeon requires between surgeries in the same spot. Which choice was better in the doctors' opinion? Depended upon who you asked. Basically, either choice could kill him. Our choice. . .
We asked for a private room. There we broke. Crushed, sobbing, defeated. Three and a half months of nauseous ups and downs were at a climax. We fell to our knees, pleading to know what we should do. The entire time, I had a lingering thought that this experience was preparing us for something, something that would come later.
Our answer: we need to consult with the attending neonatalogist again. His opinion was that we needed to find the source of infection. There was something different about this doctor. We could tell, so we asked, "Are you LDS?" Yes, he was. It was plain to see that he was worthy of the Holy Ghost because we could feel him there. He left the room, and we prayed again.
For the first time, we gave Jackson back to the Lord. We said the words, "He is yours, we give him back to you, if that is your plan for Jackson; but if he is to stay, lead us right." Matt and I decided that if Jackson were going to die, we would want to know if there was something causing the infection anyway. So, we decided for the exploratory surgery, even though we knew Jackson might not even survive the trip to the OR. We called all of our family members nearby; we didn't want to feel alone. Two sisters, a brother (and their spouses), our bishop and some friends came and sat with us.
Twenty minutes later, the phone in the hospice room rang. The surgery was done; Jackson was STABLE!!! And. . . nothing. There was nothing there. The surgeon came back and talked with us. "Your son will not survive the night. I sewed him up so quickly because he was bleeding so much, but he's not going to make it." I did not break at that moment. Why? Deep down inside, I knew, I knew that Jackson was going to live. The Lord had promised that I would get to raise my son. I looked straight into the surgeon's eyes and nodded. (I'm also not one to discount the medical professional's expert opinion. Reality exists, and I must accept all outcomes as possible.)
We closed the day with the Bishop giving Jackson a blessing. He told Jackson that he would live and fight off the infection as long as his family had faith and believed that he would. I called my mom, and we scheduled a family and ward fast for the next day, Sunday.
Matt and I slept at the hospital right across from Jackson's room. I woke up once, in the morning. I knew at once that meant Jackson was ALIVE. No one came to get us; we slept the most peacefully that night than we had the previous three months. Sure enough, Jackson's color was dramatically changed, and from that day on, he only got better. Within two weeks, he was breathing on his own and was transferred back to our hospital. Within two months (only because he was finishing out his antibiotic), he was home.
Jackson six years ago:
This is my little boy today:
I thank the Lord every day that He let us keep Jackson.
Oh, and what did Jackson prepare the way for? His little sister, Clarissa.
Friday, April 2, 2010
My Cinder Block Wall
Note: This post has been hard for me to write and post here because it is such a public forum. However, a big part of changing is having accountability and when I post my thoughts here, I feel I'm owning my emotions and who I am.
Today I got on the scale, and I was confused. It took me a second to realize what I was looking at. I didn't recognize where the needle was on the scale. I have not weighed this low in at least SIX years!!!! I admit that I was expecting to gain weight because I've had a hard couple of days where I just gave in to the cookie dough and french fries cravings.
Losing weight has so many emotions tied to it. When I exercise I still feel like I'm tearing down a cinder block wall* one block at a time, trying to uncover who/what I really am. Each block has an emotion tied to it. Sometimes it's pain, heartache, or loathing. These blocks are heavy, and I hate to carry them - they make me want to quit. Lately, however, I've found blocks that have elation, joy, and motivation in them. These blocks bring a renewed energy and strength. I love these!
As I remove each layer, I learn something about myself. This week's layer is one that I'm finally able to revisit and face. I realized this week that I don't finish things. I get started on a project, and it gets halfway to most of the way done, and then I stop. I'm tired, bored, and don't want to finish. Yep, I get to the hard part and quit. I'm a quitter. I thought back to high school and why I quit basketball. I was scared of failing; I didn't want to sit the bench; I didn't want to work harder to become a better ball player. Instead, I quit.
Now did you catch in there something else I've noticed? I'm a quitter because I'm scared of failure. Why haven't I finished painting the many rooms in my house? I'm afraid I won't like them or that I will ruin something else in the process. What a dumb excuse!! Anything has got to be better than what's on the walls now.
Anyway, I could keep rambling about this forever. However, the point I want to make is that I DON'T WANT TO BE A QUITTER ANYMORE! I want to make it to my goal, and you know what, I can. I will.
*I chose a cinder block wall because those things are heavy and a brick wall just doesn't cut it for this journey.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Peace
Obviously I've been very absorbed with adoption again, as you can tell by my numerous posts. I'm here to tell you that I'm at peace with our journey. I look forward to the day of adding to our family with anticipation and excitement, and yet I'm finally at peace. I rejoice for other adoptive parents when I find out that they've been chosen by an expectant mother. Yes, I long for the day when it will be our turn, but I no longer feel jealousy or pain at another's joy. I know that when it is our time, it will be right. All will be right.
I love this post here today.
You can read our letter to expectant parents here. We decided to redo it, and we finally feel like it reflects who we really are. No more trying to be something that we think an expectant mother is looking for.
We sang this hymn in church today, and for the first time I really read the words. Love the imagery:
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.
Ye fearful Saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding ev'ry hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
Picture taken by Matt
Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan his works in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.
"God Moves in a Mysterious Way"
by William Cowper
What blessings have been showered on your head lately?
I love this post here today.
You can read our letter to expectant parents here. We decided to redo it, and we finally feel like it reflects who we really are. No more trying to be something that we think an expectant mother is looking for.
We sang this hymn in church today, and for the first time I really read the words. Love the imagery:
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.
Ye fearful Saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding ev'ry hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
Picture taken by MattBlind unbelief is sure to err
And scan his works in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.
"God Moves in a Mysterious Way"
by William Cowper
What blessings have been showered on your head lately?
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Quote for the Day
“To your right are all the good things that can be done in life. The further to your right, the better they are. To the left are all the wrong things that can be done. The further to the left, the worse they are. In the middle, it is difficult to discern between what is good and what is bad. This middle area is where Satan works with righteous people, the twilight zone where you cannot clearly discern what is good and what is bad. It is easy to become confused here. Live well within the wonderful area of good the Lord has defined. If you are not sure whether something is appropriate to look at, listen to, to think about, or to do, then avoid it.”
(Richard G. Scott, “Do What is Right,” CES Young Adult Fireside, 3 Mar 1996)
(Richard G. Scott, “Do What is Right,” CES Young Adult Fireside, 3 Mar 1996)
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Finding the Strength
Four years ago when I was lower than I had ever been, and my misery and grief were more than I could bear at times, a very loving person, trying to be comforting said to me, "I admire your strength. I don't know that I could go through what you are going through." I remember thinking, "I'm not strong; I feel weak. I'm getting through this because I have to. I don't really have a choice." Frankly, I was hurt by this person's comments because I felt that I had to be strong so that I wouldn't be looked down upon by my friends and family during my devastating loss. I wanted to feel weak; I needed to feel weak. In retrospect, I know that my "friend" was trying so hard to be comforting, not knowing what to say.
More importantly, I've learned that we let our trials do one of two things to us: strengthen us or harden us. We all know people who have come out strong from trials, who try to bear others up in their struggles because they don't have to pretend to know how it feels. They know. The strong ones use their strength to let others lean on them for a while.
Others are hardened, bitter, and angry. I admit that we all go through some of this stage in grief (a side-note: I think grief applies to a lot more than just death). Blame falls into this category. These are the people we think of when we say that they "haven't ever gotten over ________." (Personally, I don't think we ever "get over it," but we move on and learn how to deal with it.)
I like to think that I'm not hardened, although I've had to concentrate very hard to not become that way. I can tell that I'm stronger, but I will tell you why. How was I able to be strong? Where did my strength come from?
Answer: YOU -- my family, my friends. I still find strength in all of you. Each of you have had different trials and struggles, and each of you have endured. This week I've been thinking of you and your examples of strength.
I have strong friends who have . . .
1. Lost a job, spent over 8 months without one (still looking), and not lost faith.
2. Been diagnosed with fatal breast cancer, conquered it, and had another child (her third!).
3. Sent a husband off to war, not knowing if he would come back. Thankfully, he did.
4. Lost over 70 pounds and conquered a debilitating medical condition.
5. Buried not one, but two sweet babies with anencephaly , and has dared to get pregnant again (twice) with the chance of the same medical condition reappearing in her children. She has one healthy, beautiful little boy and another on the way!
6. Miscarried one, two, or many, many other times.
7. Struggled (and still do) with infertility.
8. Adopted children.
9. Fostered children.
10. Had a difficult pregnancy, followed by major surgery and complications that arose from the surgery, and had depend on others to care for her family for several months during this time.
11. Children with disabilities.
12. Children who can't control their behavior, and the parents have to do their best, but mainly feel like spectators.
13. A premature child that is continuing to conquer all the odds. (I'm not talking about my own.)
14. A child with a heart condition.
15. Kidney stones. (Personally, I don't know how a woman who has children and kidney stones does it. Doesn't one of those things seem painful enough alone?)
16. Kidney problems that cause her pain every day. Sometimes, pain that does not subside with medication.
17. Gone through a divorce and now share time with their children.
18. Gone through a divorce because of infidelity.
19. Same as 18, except add the fact that her ex-husband after three years completely changed, she forgave and remarried him in the temple and was sealed to him and her two children for time and all eternity. Wow!
20. Suffered real, painful post-partum depression, and yet have had the strength and courage to have more children.
21. Children with developmental delays.
22. Conquered/conquering an eating disorder.
23. To be a single parent.
24. Gone back to school after a 10-year (or so) hiatus.
25. A child with kidney problems.
26. Very "excited" children.
27. Been told that the chances of any/more children are very slim.
28. Been told that they will never be able to have children. Ever.
29. Had an abusive parent and tried to break the cycle.
30. Been single a lot longer than they thought they'd ever be.
31. Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.
32. Suffered through MS.
33. Struggled with their faith and beliefs.
34. Watched a spouse struggle with their faith and beliefs.
35. Had their parents divorce.
36. Suffered through pregnancy; and then do it again.
37. Started their own businesses.
38. Got pregnant, decided to get married, then get sealed in the temple a year later.
39. Five children all within a year apart of each other, and not knowing how they're going to make ends meet.
40. Buried a child.
41. Been married for almost 40 years and stuck it out through some of the most difficult times.
I think I've made my point. The list goes on and on and on. Because I have friends who endure and make it, I find strength in them. I have one more friend to add to that list. I wish we all knew HIM as well as He wants us to know him.
I have a Friend who has suffered and endured all of the above so that we ALL have someone we can lean on when it seems that no one is there. He knows what it feels like to be alone, and he doesn't want you to feel that way. Turn to Him. He is there. He is Strength, Peace, Comfort, Love. His love for you is unconditional and unstoppable. All you have to do is open the door.
"Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him" (Acts 3:20).
Picture taken from here.
More importantly, I've learned that we let our trials do one of two things to us: strengthen us or harden us. We all know people who have come out strong from trials, who try to bear others up in their struggles because they don't have to pretend to know how it feels. They know. The strong ones use their strength to let others lean on them for a while.
Others are hardened, bitter, and angry. I admit that we all go through some of this stage in grief (a side-note: I think grief applies to a lot more than just death). Blame falls into this category. These are the people we think of when we say that they "haven't ever gotten over ________." (Personally, I don't think we ever "get over it," but we move on and learn how to deal with it.)
I like to think that I'm not hardened, although I've had to concentrate very hard to not become that way. I can tell that I'm stronger, but I will tell you why. How was I able to be strong? Where did my strength come from?
Answer: YOU -- my family, my friends. I still find strength in all of you. Each of you have had different trials and struggles, and each of you have endured. This week I've been thinking of you and your examples of strength.
I have strong friends who have . . .
1. Lost a job, spent over 8 months without one (still looking), and not lost faith.
2. Been diagnosed with fatal breast cancer, conquered it, and had another child (her third!).
3. Sent a husband off to war, not knowing if he would come back. Thankfully, he did.
4. Lost over 70 pounds and conquered a debilitating medical condition.
5. Buried not one, but two sweet babies with anencephaly , and has dared to get pregnant again (twice) with the chance of the same medical condition reappearing in her children. She has one healthy, beautiful little boy and another on the way!
6. Miscarried one, two, or many, many other times.
7. Struggled (and still do) with infertility.
8. Adopted children.
9. Fostered children.
10. Had a difficult pregnancy, followed by major surgery and complications that arose from the surgery, and had depend on others to care for her family for several months during this time.
11. Children with disabilities.
12. Children who can't control their behavior, and the parents have to do their best, but mainly feel like spectators.
13. A premature child that is continuing to conquer all the odds. (I'm not talking about my own.)
14. A child with a heart condition.
15. Kidney stones. (Personally, I don't know how a woman who has children and kidney stones does it. Doesn't one of those things seem painful enough alone?)
16. Kidney problems that cause her pain every day. Sometimes, pain that does not subside with medication.
17. Gone through a divorce and now share time with their children.
18. Gone through a divorce because of infidelity.
19. Same as 18, except add the fact that her ex-husband after three years completely changed, she forgave and remarried him in the temple and was sealed to him and her two children for time and all eternity. Wow!
20. Suffered real, painful post-partum depression, and yet have had the strength and courage to have more children.
21. Children with developmental delays.
22. Conquered/conquering an eating disorder.
23. To be a single parent.
24. Gone back to school after a 10-year (or so) hiatus.
25. A child with kidney problems.
26. Very "excited" children.
27. Been told that the chances of any/more children are very slim.
28. Been told that they will never be able to have children. Ever.
29. Had an abusive parent and tried to break the cycle.
30. Been single a lot longer than they thought they'd ever be.
31. Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.
32. Suffered through MS.
33. Struggled with their faith and beliefs.
34. Watched a spouse struggle with their faith and beliefs.
35. Had their parents divorce.
36. Suffered through pregnancy; and then do it again.
37. Started their own businesses.
38. Got pregnant, decided to get married, then get sealed in the temple a year later.
39. Five children all within a year apart of each other, and not knowing how they're going to make ends meet.
40. Buried a child.
41. Been married for almost 40 years and stuck it out through some of the most difficult times.
I think I've made my point. The list goes on and on and on. Because I have friends who endure and make it, I find strength in them. I have one more friend to add to that list. I wish we all knew HIM as well as He wants us to know him.
I have a Friend who has suffered and endured all of the above so that we ALL have someone we can lean on when it seems that no one is there. He knows what it feels like to be alone, and he doesn't want you to feel that way. Turn to Him. He is there. He is Strength, Peace, Comfort, Love. His love for you is unconditional and unstoppable. All you have to do is open the door.
"Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him" (Acts 3:20).
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
A Little Etiquette Reminder
I'm not trying to one-up Matt by posting so quickly after him, so make sure you read his post. It was very good. However, I'm still going to post. My friend posted a very informative article on her blog that I think we should all read because I know we all know someone who is struggling or has struggled with infertility. Here is the direct link to the article: Infertility Etiquette
Okay, did you read the article? Not yet. . . well, go read it.
Now have you read it?
Okay, here is my opinion. I really liked that article. If I could add one thing to that article it would be some advice I got from my doctor after I lost my little girl. He told me that I needed to be the voice. I couldn't expect people to be sensitive to my situation unless I told them about it.
Another thing I've taken to heart was that I couldn't expect people to tiptoe around me. People are going to complain about their pregnancies, and they are going to talk about how hard it is to raise kids but that's because that is their current situation. I think it's just as important for me to remember that their trials are personal to them just as mine are to me. If they shouldn't complain about pregnancy to me, then I shouldn't complain about not being able to have kids around them. It will just make them feel guilty when it is not their fault. Instead we should be able to help each other and raise each other up. You know, the covenants we made at baptism, "comfort those that stand in need of comfort, . . . mourn with those that mourn."
Also, we have to remember that people say insensitive things without meaning to. They just do. Instead of getting angry and bitter, I've found that it's much better if something said really bothers me (meaning I can't just let it roll off my back), that I should educate them and let them know without being rude or critical. Chances are that they'll feel guilty even if I was polite and informative.
I know I'm technically not infertile, but some of the emotions have been the same as I've had to deal with accepting not getting pregnant.
What do you think?
Okay, did you read the article? Not yet. . . well, go read it.
Now have you read it?
Okay, here is my opinion. I really liked that article. If I could add one thing to that article it would be some advice I got from my doctor after I lost my little girl. He told me that I needed to be the voice. I couldn't expect people to be sensitive to my situation unless I told them about it.
Another thing I've taken to heart was that I couldn't expect people to tiptoe around me. People are going to complain about their pregnancies, and they are going to talk about how hard it is to raise kids but that's because that is their current situation. I think it's just as important for me to remember that their trials are personal to them just as mine are to me. If they shouldn't complain about pregnancy to me, then I shouldn't complain about not being able to have kids around them. It will just make them feel guilty when it is not their fault. Instead we should be able to help each other and raise each other up. You know, the covenants we made at baptism, "comfort those that stand in need of comfort, . . . mourn with those that mourn."
Also, we have to remember that people say insensitive things without meaning to. They just do. Instead of getting angry and bitter, I've found that it's much better if something said really bothers me (meaning I can't just let it roll off my back), that I should educate them and let them know without being rude or critical. Chances are that they'll feel guilty even if I was polite and informative.
I know I'm technically not infertile, but some of the emotions have been the same as I've had to deal with accepting not getting pregnant.
What do you think?
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Way Behind
I have so many posts now to do, that I'm feeling very, very behind. Oh, well. I'll get to them all soon enough. Today, however, I feel like mentioning some words of wisdom that I heard last night at the adult session of our Stake Conference (a church meeting for the adults in our church area). We have the privilege of having Elder Allan F. Packer and his wife presiding and speaking to us this weekend.
Last night Matt stayed home with Jackson so I could attend the adult session (I forgot to ask someone to babysit for us). I'm so glad I went. I first realized just how much I will miss some people in my ward and stake when we move (which could be very soon, by the way).
I felt like the theme was to stick to the simple truths, the ones we know to be true that will never change despite the popular fads and trends in the world. Both Elder Packer and Sister Packer talked about trials and challenges. They mentioned that we may not like them or understand them, but we have the ones we do to make us who we are to become. We NEED them. Also, Elder Packer reminded us that this is a great time to be alive, despite the hard times ahead and the conflicting morals in the world today. He told us that we could be the Helamans and Moronis of this generation.
Finally, he told us that we should learn to listen to the spirit. We need to learn how to recognize it so that we can be anywhere to receive inspiration, not just at church or the temple. We never know when we'll get ideas or thoughts that will help solve our problems. Elder Packer said that the solution to raising our children in a time of chaos is to learn to have the spirit with us at all times and to hear it and then go do.
Anyway, those are the gems I've picked up so far. Now it's time to go finish getting ready for the general session in about 45 minutes. Have a great Sunday!
Last night Matt stayed home with Jackson so I could attend the adult session (I forgot to ask someone to babysit for us). I'm so glad I went. I first realized just how much I will miss some people in my ward and stake when we move (which could be very soon, by the way).
I felt like the theme was to stick to the simple truths, the ones we know to be true that will never change despite the popular fads and trends in the world. Both Elder Packer and Sister Packer talked about trials and challenges. They mentioned that we may not like them or understand them, but we have the ones we do to make us who we are to become. We NEED them. Also, Elder Packer reminded us that this is a great time to be alive, despite the hard times ahead and the conflicting morals in the world today. He told us that we could be the Helamans and Moronis of this generation.
Finally, he told us that we should learn to listen to the spirit. We need to learn how to recognize it so that we can be anywhere to receive inspiration, not just at church or the temple. We never know when we'll get ideas or thoughts that will help solve our problems. Elder Packer said that the solution to raising our children in a time of chaos is to learn to have the spirit with us at all times and to hear it and then go do.
Anyway, those are the gems I've picked up so far. Now it's time to go finish getting ready for the general session in about 45 minutes. Have a great Sunday!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Corner Lots
So, when looking for a house, many people want a house on the corner lot for the space. There's usually a lot more yard, and you only have neighbors on one side of you. This morning, after another snowstorm, I was reminded with every shovelful of snow why it is NOT advantageous to have a corner lot/one in the middle of the circle. I have at least TWICE the amount of snow to clear off sidewalks (city policy is if the sidewalk touches/edges your property, you are required to clear it). For those of you who have been to my house, you know what I mean. For those of you who haven't, well, you might think I'm just complaining. Actually, it was rejuvenating to clear the snow.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Perspective
Jackson getting a "new" perspective on his Nintendo game.For example, a person I know and am acquainted with but that I'm not "buddy-buddy" with says to me, "You are either very smart for having one child, or you can't have any more. At least that seems to be my observation about people who only have one." (I've actually had this happen to me.) Okay, those who know my situation around me are probably saying to themselves, "What? Did she just say that to you?"
I can react in a couple of ways.
1. I can respond defensively by saying, "Are you saying I'd be dumb to have or want any more? I can't have any more. Thank. You. Very. Much. Next time be a little more sensitive and stick to your own business."
2. I can react sensitively back to her. For instance, I can take a step back and realize that this mother is probably really stressed right now with her children and newborn and thinks that she'd rather just be dealing with one 3 year old rather than her multiple children at present. My actual response was, (nervous giggle -- shocked she had said that), "Um. . . actually I can't have anymore." And then I told her our actual situation.
I'm very grateful for my doctor who gave me poignant advice after I had Clarissa. He told me that I have to be the one to tell others about my situation. The people around me can not be sensitive if they do not know my situation. Essentially, I need to educate them about my situation. That's exactly what I did one year ago when a lady I was just getting to know said something very inappropriate to me. I remembered that she did not know me very well, and that she had little children, and she is a very open woman.
Here are the lessons I gleaned from this experience. 1. We need to take a step back and try seeing things from another's perspective. Although her statement seems very insensitive, you can see that the sister really was trying to be sensitive by stating that I probably couldn't have anymore. Some of my friends who have a similar baby history to mine would have been more offended and hurt at that statement. Also, be careful what you say otherwise you'll get someone's life story (like mine) because they need to educate you on life's experiences.
2. Don't make assumptions. I loved watching the Worldwide Leadership Training last winter. Sister Lant said that one lady came up to her one Sunday and said, "I'd have more children if it were as easy for me as it is for you." Sister Lant then proceeded to be in tears the rest of the meeting because it WASN'T easy for her. I could have been in her situation. Jackson's life has been very eventful and overwhelming at times. Perhaps I really didn't want to have more, but I was feeling guilty that I had decided that I didn't want more because I couldn't handle it. I would have reacted very differently then.
3. Don't read too much into what the person is saying. She really isn't telling me that I'm stupid if I want more children, and she isn't trying to make herself look likes she's a much better person because she has more children.
4. Remember that people make mistakes. Many times people are REALLY trying to be sensitive, and just don't know how to express it. When they find out the situation, many will realize that what they said was not the best choice of words.
5. Finally, try to be sensitive to others and learn from their experiences. We all have our own opinions and our own life experiences. It does us all good to take a step back and listen for a while. I can learn a lot from someone who has many kids, just as someone can learn a lot from another woman who can not and maybe will never be able to have any.
I have friends from all walks of life, and I'm grateful for it. I'm most thankful, however, that my friends have not been driven away by my too-abrupt questions or statements that I always regret later. Sensitivity and perspective are things I think we always need to work on.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
3 Years
I remember reading a blog about a year ago of a mother who had lost her sweet little boy in a tragic accident. She mentioned that she is not the same person since then. Although saying good-bye to my little girl was not nearly as traumatic as this other mom's story, I can agree about not being the same.
Anyway, today is Clarissa's third birthday. The pain of losing her is not nearly as hard as it was, however, the pains of missing her come and go quite acutely. For instance, today as I was sitting on a ride at California Adventure, I realized that I could have been there with two kids instead of one. I realize that having two kids would have been chaotic, but seeing little girls dressed in princess and Minnie Mouse dresses made me miss her more. I longed to buy the girlie toys just for her.
While visiting Bonnie, I found another Sharon Creech book I hadn't yet read: Chasing Redbird. I had no idea what it was about, but it was the perfect book to read this week. A little girl starts to understand grief, and I needed this book. I needed to grieve again, otherwise I feel empty and depressed holding it in. I could relate completely to the characters in the book, and it kept me connected to my grief. I know it sounds slightly morbid, but it's really not. The book gave me an outlet to reflect on my situation and allow to be with Sissy although I'm not home this week.
So, when I get home in a couple of days, you can bet we'll have some better posts about the last few days of our vacation and our lessons from Disneyland. It got better with each day. That much I can tell you.
Happy Birthday, Sissy! We love you and miss you!
"Til' Next We Meet"
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Twice Burned: Lesson Learned
Okay, so I know I've mentioned just how grateful I am for a garden. Right now, at the end of our growing season, our peppers have been plentiful. I wasn't sure what to do with all of the extras at first, but I've since started drying them in my home dryer (one of these babies):
My mom bought it last year for dirt-cheap at a yard sale. It's missing the fruit leather tray and nets that go with it so I can dry all of my extra peaches, but I've been using it a lot more this year than I did last year. You can dry just about anything. Thus, I've been drying my peppers.
Well, now I'm getting ahead of myself. This year we have several peppers in our garden: some bell, chiles, and pimiento (small jalapeno). The smaller the pepper, the bigger the "punch." I decided to try to use a pimiento the other day while I made burritoes -- I just stuck in in the rice while it cooked. Of course, I cut it up first. Now, the rule of cutting up hot peppers is to use rubber gloves when cutting them. I never really paid any attention to that rule. WELL, as I was cutting up the pimiento, I decided to try a nibble . . . BURNED!!!! Ouch. My mouth and lips burned for at least an hour after. At one point I stuck my thumb in my mouth, and forgot that I had pepper residue stuck in between my nail and my thumb. Ouch, again. Then my thumb and hand burned. (I think I could understand, very minutely, Bella's burning.) The burning continued the rest of the night and part of the next morning. You'd think I'd learned my lesson, right? Only partially: Don't nibble on hot peppers!
This morning I decided to start drying some chiles. Supposedly they are hot, too, but they never seemed to burn my hands before when I cut them up. I was slicing them and putting them on the dryer trays when my eye itched for a second. I took the knuckle of my finger, stuck in the corner of my eye, and instantly I was blind in my left eye with BURNING!! I washed my hands while closing my eyes and then ran to the bathroom. I tried to stick my head under the running water and rinse my eye. I tried a cool, wet washcloth, but then the burning spread to all around my eye, not just my eye.
I decided I might as well take a shower (so much for exercising this morning) to wash my face and hands to get as much residue off as possible, and then my right eye began burning. What?!! I didn't even touch that eye! I was blinded for a good ten minutes. Cold water made me freeze and warm water added to the burning. I thought, "Now I know what it's like to get sprayed in the face with pepper spray; and I know that stuff wears off -- there shouldn't be any permanent damage." When I took all I could handle in the shower, I grabbed my towel and tried opening my eyes and blinking trying to wash out the residue with my tears. It worked. I could open my eyes. Within a few more minutes, the burning subsided and disappeared. However, I now have burning in my fingers.
So, I have now officially learned my lesson. I still have at least 4 chiles in my kitchen sink ready to be sliced and put on dryer trays; I however, have been burned enough for one day. When I go out to run errands, I will be picking up some latex gloves. No more cutting peppers with bare hands for me. Oh, and not rubbing my eyes. However, I have learned that if I ever get in trouble with the law and have pepper sprayed in my eyes, I know that the excruciating burning will wear off in a while.
Yes, I am an idiot.
My mom bought it last year for dirt-cheap at a yard sale. It's missing the fruit leather tray and nets that go with it so I can dry all of my extra peaches, but I've been using it a lot more this year than I did last year. You can dry just about anything. Thus, I've been drying my peppers.
Well, now I'm getting ahead of myself. This year we have several peppers in our garden: some bell, chiles, and pimiento (small jalapeno). The smaller the pepper, the bigger the "punch." I decided to try to use a pimiento the other day while I made burritoes -- I just stuck in in the rice while it cooked. Of course, I cut it up first. Now, the rule of cutting up hot peppers is to use rubber gloves when cutting them. I never really paid any attention to that rule. WELL, as I was cutting up the pimiento, I decided to try a nibble . . . BURNED!!!! Ouch. My mouth and lips burned for at least an hour after. At one point I stuck my thumb in my mouth, and forgot that I had pepper residue stuck in between my nail and my thumb. Ouch, again. Then my thumb and hand burned. (I think I could understand, very minutely, Bella's burning.) The burning continued the rest of the night and part of the next morning. You'd think I'd learned my lesson, right? Only partially: Don't nibble on hot peppers!
This morning I decided to start drying some chiles. Supposedly they are hot, too, but they never seemed to burn my hands before when I cut them up. I was slicing them and putting them on the dryer trays when my eye itched for a second. I took the knuckle of my finger, stuck in the corner of my eye, and instantly I was blind in my left eye with BURNING!! I washed my hands while closing my eyes and then ran to the bathroom. I tried to stick my head under the running water and rinse my eye. I tried a cool, wet washcloth, but then the burning spread to all around my eye, not just my eye.
I decided I might as well take a shower (so much for exercising this morning) to wash my face and hands to get as much residue off as possible, and then my right eye began burning. What?!! I didn't even touch that eye! I was blinded for a good ten minutes. Cold water made me freeze and warm water added to the burning. I thought, "Now I know what it's like to get sprayed in the face with pepper spray; and I know that stuff wears off -- there shouldn't be any permanent damage." When I took all I could handle in the shower, I grabbed my towel and tried opening my eyes and blinking trying to wash out the residue with my tears. It worked. I could open my eyes. Within a few more minutes, the burning subsided and disappeared. However, I now have burning in my fingers.
So, I have now officially learned my lesson. I still have at least 4 chiles in my kitchen sink ready to be sliced and put on dryer trays; I however, have been burned enough for one day. When I go out to run errands, I will be picking up some latex gloves. No more cutting peppers with bare hands for me. Oh, and not rubbing my eyes. However, I have learned that if I ever get in trouble with the law and have pepper sprayed in my eyes, I know that the excruciating burning will wear off in a while.
Yes, I am an idiot.
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