Perle Champion

Sitting on the couch sipping beer, nibbling on the remnants of pizza, and scribbling in my journal was far more comfy than sitting at desk typing.  However, I’ve committed to one blog post a day for 2012 and given my self permission to be mildly creative (thanks Ken Roberts).

Most of my blog posts begin as words written in my journal.  The essay in Victoria Magazine, the book reviews in First Draft, the essay in PavoMag, my 2 as yet unpublished novels, etc.

They all began life on the pages of the journal that are my constant companion.

I had the meniscus surgery today at noonish and all the dire prognostications of pain and wooziness were for naught.

All I can say is Dr. Dewey Jones, III, his nurse Ann and all the folks at Brookwood rock; they  listen to the patient.  I didn’t want to be pumped with morphine or any narcotic in anticipation of pain.  Doc said fine, I’ll give you a local when I’m through to keep the edge off and you can take the pain meds we prescribed as needed. So, when I came out of the anesthetic, I was fine.  Within 30 minutes, I wasn’t woozy or unstable; walked to the ‘loo’ unassisted.

Special thanks to Ree Bolton who drove me there, waited and drove me home.  On the way to the apartment, we picked up a veggie pizza at Hungry Howie’s.  Coupled with the 6 pack of dos Equis from Wilson’s Market I’d picked up earlier we had a satisfying lunch.

Those 40 odd steps to my front door that I was dreading, were a painless piece of cake.  We sat on the couch ate pizza, sipped a few, me with leg propped up and an ice pack perched on my knee.

It’s going on 10 now, and no pain.  I ate two more pieces of pizza for a late supper, and I’m on about beer six.  Once I post this, it’ll be time for the ice pack again, while I crack open Vanity Fair (nothing like a little mind candy when you have to sit still).

Anybody know of a worthy cause in need of a pair of brand new unused crutches, let me know.

Well, the couch is calling.   Later.

Having surgery tomorrow, so now more than ever I need lists, ‘to do’ lists.  The one at work grew longer as I’ll be out for several days.  Write it down in blue or black, check it off in red or green or whatever color is hand.  Some days it’s purple.

All week, I’ve blown through a many items as I can and delegated a few before I shut down the computer and left the office.

Then there are the personal lists to make sure that I’ll have no need to leave home until the knee has time to mend a bit.  I’m having a torn meniscus repaired.  All my years of athletics finally caught up with me.  But this is minor, and if it’s as bad as it gets, it’s pretty good.

First Walgreens for the pain meds, and I sincerely hope I don’t need them.  I’m not a wimp when it comes to pain, but this will be a new experience.  The Doc kindly phoned it it day before, so day of surgery I could just go straight home.  Picked up some cold compresses and they’re in the freezer as I type.

Next was the Library.  If’ I’m going to spend a few days on the couch with my leg elevated with a cold compress on it, I need several books, and a few movies.  TV is indeed a great wasteland.

Then was the grocery store for quick to fix meals. I bought lunch meat, bread, crackers, pre-made salads, frozen cooked shrimp, almond butter, apples, bananas eggs, coffee, tea, chocolate silk and bars and several magazines to add to the reading options.

Last of all was alcohol for me and guests.  I restocked my bar with wine, beer, some clear stuff and some not so clear stuff.  I’d rather take a page from western fiction and take a swig or 2 of whiskey than pop a pill.  We’ll see.

I’m in my jams now as I write this post, all squeaky clean from my shower with the special soap the nurse said to use.  Sipping on a cold beer while I still can.  Nothing after midnight and surgery is not until 1 tomorrow.

Like I said, I’m prepared to hole up for a as many days as it takes.  Knee surgery will making stairs a precarious adventure especially when you consider that my front stoop is 22 concrete stairs followed by a two flight stairwell up to my front door. Going up while still under the influence of anesthetic should be a piece of cake (feeling no pain).

Down is not recommended for several days drugs or no drugs.

Monday morning last I lay abed, so I could see the first rays of sun come through the windows of my bedroom.

Couple that with the birdsong in the trees just beyond my sill.

It doesn’t get any better than that.

The apartment manager called this room with seven tall windows the sunroom.  I call it the best bedroom I ever had.

Spinners, crazymakers. We all have a name for those people that go around in circles, making more out of every decision, chore, or upcoming life event than it merits.  As if the very act of circling it will somehow get it done sooner, more efficiently, or change its outcome.

Sometimes, we are those people.  We get a thought in our brain, we just can’t shake loose.  We go round and round in circles getting nowhere fast.

I’m usually a cut to the chase kind of person. I get things done while some people are still thinking about it.  I take all the bumps in the rode in stride, going over around or through,  and I just keep moving.

But as this minor knee surgery draws closer, my mind has taken on, well, a mind of its own.  I’m having to rein it in, write down several positive mantras to recite whenever those doom and gloom scenarios rear their ugly heads and try to play with my well-being.

There are times when I wish life came with a remote control, so I could fast-forward to the day after such life events relegating them to one more thing I’ve lived through.

This is one of those times.

— Thanks to authors: Rhonda Byrne (The Secret, The magic), Joseph Murphy (The Power of Your Subconscious Mind), and Wayne Dyer’s PBS special, I Am.

My candles are lit, as I celebrate the turning of the wheel of life, and greet Persephone as she ascends from the dark lord’s keep.  It’s time to welcome spring with small ritual.

I don’t understand people who buy gorgeous candles and never light them.  What’s the point?  I remember a gathering at Thanksgiving dinner a year or so back, we gathered at table and after in the living room.  There were lovely candles on the table in candelabra, and a lovely arrangement on the ornate coffee table complete with large candles.

I asked who was going to light the candles, and was politely told. “Oh no, we never light the good ones.  They’re just for looks.”  I was astonished, but as a good guest asked no further.

Can a candle be called a candle if it’s never allowed to burn brightly. I don’t believe so.

It’s getting green.  Spring speaks of rebirth a renewal of things after the long dark sleep of winter:

The small determined shoots of grass spring from brown lawns. 

The small lace of green leaves grace once barren boughs.

The azaleas bloom gloriously at the top of my stairs. 

Camus can have his invincible summer; give me spring. 

Joyce Norman’s Writing mini seminar.  3/17/12 – Writing prompt
Write a eulogy for a favorite Comic Strip or Cartoon Character.

Here’s Mine

The dark and story night he had written of so often got him Tuesday last.  While our dear friend Snoopy sat atop his doghouse rooftop typing away, the clouds crept in unseen in the dark night, and a stray bolt of lightening took that sweet Beagle from us forever.

He didn’t just write on the page.  He was want to entertain us with his flights of fancy by acting out his stories.

Who can forget Joe Cool with dark beat glasses and insouciant attitude, or the WWI flying ace taking on the red scarf flying out behind his determined countenance with aviator goggles pulled tight.

He was a friend to the peanuts gang as well as the feathered flock of Woodstock.

He was a friend o mine as well.

I shall miss him dearly – no more stories, only good memories.

I am gladdened that if he had to go, he went out in style – atop his rooftop banging away at the keys on a dark and stormy and night

One moment  it was 11:15 p.m. on a Saturday night, and in the next, it is 12:15 a.m. Sunday morning.  I moved my few clocks forward, so I wouldn’t forget later at bed and oversleep on the morrow

I usually go to bed at midnight, but regardless of what the clock says, my head knows it’s not really midnight yet, and so it will be an hour or so before I slip between the covers and finally douse the lights.

Strange thing, time.  There are days that pass in the time it takes for an ordinary three, and others pass in the seeming blink of an eye.

But, as we have only the clock to tell the time by, there’s no real way to prove how interminably longer one day is from the other. I’m reminded of Einstein’s train, and some days I feel as if I’m on on that train and holding on for dear life.

If I can offer you one thing to add to your resolutions, it is this.  Keep a journal.

Once a day, put pen to page and write whatever comes to mind, what you are grateful for, what bothers you, what you want from days to come.  Turn off all the outside noise: TV, phone, radio, ipod, computer, etc.

Tune in to you.  Take a little time to have a conversation with yourself. 

Go back and read what you have written and get a little insight into this unique person that is you – you might surprise and amaze yourself at who you really are. 

As a child I watched my shadow with awe

after reading My Shadow.

I wondered if it was an entity

just a little separate from me.

I’d turn quickly to see if she

was doing something different

instead of just mimicking me.

Never caught her in the act