Don't Think I Don't See You

 

You may think I'm not looking, I am.

You may think I don't see you, I do.

You may think this is a sure thing, keep thinking that.

Making Art When it's Storming

 

The power goes out here in The Shire quite often, so I'm used to that. Sudden darkness, confusion, losing my place. The computer has battery backup, and there are pencils and paper if it lasts long. Storms can be distracting though and sometimes my handwritten work turns to a list of things to do when the electricity or internet returns. Sometimes my notes become doodles or I dig out glue sticks and make a collage next to a short story. 

Rarely, I start cleaning or organizing my office. Occasionally I'll meander off and clean or organize something in my house. Connectivity is important when you clean, so that you can get online and order cleaning supplies or boxes to store things you've sorted. You can't do that in a bad storm. 

All this noise in the world has made me decide to downsize a third of most everything. Clothes. Things. Not books of course, let's not be crazy. Everything else though. We need breathing room around here. Without power there's not much I can do but make space in which to breathe easier. 

New Book Release—Chicken Soup for the Soul

Coming September 17, 2024

Chicken Soup for the Soul

Miracles, Angels & Messages from Heaven

Available for Pre-Order Now

Another inspiring anthology from Chicken Soup! My new short story A Celestial Wrong Number is included in this inspiring collection of true stories. As a contributor I have early copies of the book and I can tell you that Chicken Soup has outdone themselves with this one. It reminds me of early days of their moving collections. I'm genuinely enjoying reading this book.

My story is in the chapter on Miraculous Coincidences. I tend to be more scientific about things but I have been around long enough to have seen a few miraculous coincidences. This is the second such story that I've shared with Chicken Soup. The other is in Angels All Around. 

A friend of mine calls these "woo-woo" stories. The kind that give you goosebumps when you hear them, the kind that lift you up and inspire you. If you'd like a chance at one of my early release copies, just drop me an email with a short comment about one of your own "woo-woo" stories.* I'd love to share one of them with you!

*Offer good until 9/4/2024 

 

My Legs vs. A Long Haul Flight

 

As much as I plot and plan to pack light, somehow it doesn't quite work out like that. I saw a woman on a ferry in Greece carrying only her backpack and thought, she is my spirit animal. I'm going to learn to pack like that, someday. Fact is, I've never HAD to pack like that. I'm strong, with legs that can carry a suitcase, a big crazy dog pulling on his leash, and a couple of kids up a steep hill. Or so I always thought.

Thing is, bodies aren't always cooperative. If they start acting up, you'll get no notice. It's been months since my body decided enough is enough and I'm still surprised by it. WE HAD A DEAL. My entire life I've had two functional legs that I could count on to hike me anywhere but that look terrible in dresses. I never let that bother me because they worked and that's what counts. At least that's what I told myself as I covered them in jeans and long dresses. 

My hubby wears a brace on one of his legs—has since high school. He’s had many surgeries on them. His legs are the uncooperative kind that you can't count on. It was all good, I always thought, I’ve got you there, sweet hubby. These hunk o chunk legs can carry two, and our luggage if need be. 

Until last summer on my annual long haul flight New York to Athens when something happened. I stood to get off the flight and my legs felt wooden. Painful. Uncooperative. Weird, I thought, but it had been a long haul. It had taken twenty-four hours as I traipsed from home to an airport, flew to a second airport, then a third. Then Athens. Even weirder. after I forced my legs off the airplane and through customs and then to baggage claim and into a taxi, when I tried to get out of the taxi at my hotel, I barely could. I had to use my hands to lift my legs and put them out of the car and then kind of jump onto them. 

Getting up the stairs to my room was tough, especially with luggage. I called a friend who’s a doctor. “Did you wear compression stockings?” She asked. “That’s a thing?” I said. I could practically hear the eye roll. “Elevate your legs. Ice them. And walk. Even if it hurts, walk. It’s not likely to be Deep Vein Thrombosis in both legs, but you HAVE to wear compression stockings on long haul flights.”

I froze water bottles in my mini-fridge. I old-lady without a walker walked the mile to the cold sea. When I got there, I rolled up my pants and trotted into the icy water. It felt wonderful. I step-together, step-together-ed my legs the mile back to my room and iced my knees. They throbbed. When I coughed they screamed. It wasn't just the knees, it was hip to toe, both legs, sobbing. They felt loose here and there, and tight there and here, and stiff, and they howled with every step. 

Yes, I debated going to the hospital in Athens. I debated getting on a flight and going back home instead of continuing another two days of travel to my summer destination. Memories of going to the ER surfaced. They're not fond memories and I was considering going to the ER in Greece which seemed worse. My Greek has not advanced to a hospital vocabulary. Even though I'm sure we could have spoken in English too, I’d long ago decided not to go to the ER unless the problem was obvious and there was a bone sticking out. I decided to stick by that decision and that I couldn’t fly home until I found some sort of chunko compression socks anyway. I didn't want to double my problem by flying home without them too.

For the next two days I traveled deeper into Greece. Another plane. Ferry. Walking miles. Taxis. Moving slow, slower, slowest, hauling my luggage. Possibly cussing under my breath. Anytime I passed the sea and could get there I walked straight into it. Cold. Salt. Thank. God.

My final destination was covered in stairs. I went up and down them, stumped my way to the grocery store, pharmacy, cafes. Every day I stood in the cold sea. May. June. July. By then I’d acquired compression socks and I reverse traveled my way back home. Ow ow ow. 

At home I went to the doctor, and again, and again, and again. It’s post Covid. You don’t just up and go to the doctor. You can get in in three weeks, four, next month. July. August. September. October. November. Schlump schlump, baby steps. Singing my ow ow ow refrain. December and January were blood tests and physical therapy. X-rays. By February I rated other testing. An MRI. Come March I had graduated to an Orthopedic surgeon. 

Right now I'm taking meds that are definitely helping. It's very exciting. I was so happy that I did everything I couldn't do the past nine months and threw my back out. I guess I shouldn't have done everything in a twenty-four timeframe. Now I'm taking those leg meds and icing my back and eyeing flights to Greece because it's time to plan that trip again. Right? Right? 

 

Typewriters and Fun

Recently one of my kids asked if I had any edible googly eyes at my house. Of course I did. Designer things and fancy things aren’t my style. Fun is. There are glow sticks, rock collections, and buckets of slime to be had here. I was pleased they thought to ask!

During a visit my favorite six year old, elbow deep in slime the color of the sea, asked, “Do you have a typewriter laying around here somewhere?” It surprised me that a six year old today knows about typewriters. I’ve long ago embraced technology but in some corner of the attic I did have a typewriter. It’s so heavy I couldn’t lift it out of the attic myself. It’s an ancient Burroughs typewriter. The kind with hard to push keys that force an old metal arm with the letter onto the page—it even has an old ribbon on it. I think it’s from the 1930’s. Driving past a yard sale ages ago I happened to spot it and stopped. It cost me $5. My husband insisted I was over paying by $5. 

I’ve yet to find someone to clean it up and restore it. I did what I could with cotton swabs and some rubbing alcohol. 

When Six visited, she tried to use it but the keys stick and clump together. She’s having a birthday soon and I decided to invest in one for her very own. It took some serious hunting to find such an archaic beast as a typewriter—but I can hardly wait to give it to her. I can barely resist opening it up and using it myself! Look at this baby!

Old fashioned yes, but a purple typewriter? I love it! Six’s interest in typewriters reminded me of the satisfaction of a good typewriter keyboard. IBM’s Selectric with the ball was a love of mine. I wonder if there’s a computer keyboard with the satisfying push of that old wonder of technology? It might be fun to find out!

Winter is Coming! Let’s Enjoy it!

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Last winter and again this one, I made a pledge with a friend. Every day from the winter solstice until the spring solstice (the 21st of December until the 21st of March), we’ll each go outside no matter the weather and do something fun. We don’t live near each other so we make this pledge as support buddies and for accountability. Each day we report in to each other, sharing what we did.

Usually I walk in the woods, or sled ride. There’s a hill right off my driveway and I’ve accumulated a variety of sleds to use. The weather doesn’t always cooperate and accommodate me with the needed snow—but it doesn’t matter what I do as long as I go outside. Minimum time is fifteen minutes. 

Most days I start to have fun and stay much longer!

Some days it’s a simple walk up and down the street, and on a few brutally cold days with howling winds, I have hung around right outside the house and counted the minutes! 

The idea is to go out into the cold season and find something to enjoy instead of huddling inside. I’ve begun to accumulate good coats and gear for the season, snow pants, warm boots, hats that are for function. I’m always on the lookout for gloves that can withstand sustained cold! I’ve not had much success there! 

Who’s with me? Does anyone else want to find reasons to like winter? It’s easier than I thought! 

The Acropolis Museum and A Cancelled Flight

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My absolute favorite museum is The Acropolis Museum in Athens, Greece. This year I had time to visit it thanks to Delta Airlines cancelling my flight home. 

The thing with cancelled flights is they happen after you’ve hauled yourself to the airport. No small task. Then plans change and you haul yourself wherever and spend hours on the phone trying to find another flight home. THEN, if you’re lucky like I was, you have another afternoon in Greece! 

Technically, I never did get another flight home and eventually took one to New York City instead and rented a car and drove there. That doubled the journey. Fortunately, I do buy trip insurance and now that I’ve been home a month and spent hours of that time submitting paperwork and arguing, I got reimbursed! Woo hoo! Isn’t it great when insurance works? 

Athena in owl form stands outside the Acropolis Museum. I knew this for years. Not because I ever remembered to look up when I was there, but because I bought a journal at the gift shop there with the picture on it. So it was very exciting when I finally spotted her this year. (Someone reminded me to look!)

Another bonus of the cancelled flight was flying home through Amsterdam. I bought a bunch of tulips at an airport shop. Can you believe these aren’t real? I crammed them into my backpack and flew out of AMS in what turned out to be a massive storm. They arrived home looking stellar. My luggage arrived half full of rain from The Netherlands.

Greek Food

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Omelet

Since I’m coming to you via the Blogger app on my phone, in Greece, I have absolutely no idea what’s going to show up on The Glitter Globe when I hit post. Sometimes it’s nothing, a post swallowed by an internet glitch or a the app. Sometimes it’s part of a post. So let’s keep it light and hope for the best! 

All things watermelon! Καρπυζι

Fresh watermelon juice is my favorite! But watermelon salad with feta and mint is amazing too! I even bought a quarter piece of a watermelon and hauled it up and down hills and stairs to my room to have for breakfast in my room!

Anything seafood

Despite things I’ve read online, it is tough to get gluten free food here. Yes, the Mediterranean diet is clean and naturally gluten free, but it’s common to get some lovely dish like my lobster salad here, with a pile of decorative crackers or bread plopped right on top. That’s what happened with this lobster. Yes, there was a long conversation about gluten during ordering (in English and Greek). It still happens. More often than not. 

Capuucino decaf

Coffee is not my thing, yet I have an absurd amount of photos of me sitting with a cup of it in front of me in Greece. It’s meditative! I only drink it here! 

A Month

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And so it ends,

As it always does,

The women leave,

Their words linger.

Artemida, Greece

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This morning I arrived in Greece after a long day and night of flying. Lately long flights give me what I’ve come to call Flyers Knee, because that’s when I get it. A painful stiffness from sitting in one spot for so long—though I did get up and walk around as much as possible. I wasn’t the only one stretching my knees out.

This year I stayed at a family run hotel in Artimeda, about a mile walk to the sea. I decided to walk it despite the knee. I got a chance to try out my sad Greek when I wasn’t sure which fork in the road to take. One of the teenagers chuckled and answered me in perfect English (as most Greeks seem to do), pointing the way.

It was a perfect evening for a walk. The sky a bit hazy. The sea busy. I sat on the Rocky shore, I think it was marble. 

Kritamo grows wild along the shore!

It’s delicious with lemon and olive oil! 

The perfect start to my adventure—despite my flyers knee!

My Dandelion Sea

This time of year my yard is a sea of dandelions. I've taught Roper to eat them. Yes, they're edible. On sunny days when they open wide. I pick them and holding tightly to the stem, I use my thumb to flick the head off. The yellow bud flies through the air and doggo jumps to nab it. The first time his owner saw me do it she wasn't too thrilled.

"It's safe," I promised. "Google it."

Roper's Mom calls my yard a Golden Retriever yard. He can run run run. We spend hours playing frisbee with an Aerobie. It's a round disc with a wide hole in the middle. I toss it on its side so it rolls away. Roper chases it like it's purposely running away from him—every Retriever instinct in high-gear. This is only one of the things I love to do instead of writing, or cleaning, or doing paperwork of any sort. 

Nerf Dog Super Soaker

The Aerobie isn't for dogs. If I look away for a moment he'll chomp on it and break its little bird bones and it won't roll so well after. Sometimes we use the heavy duty Nerf Dog Super Soaker. Golden's are easy to please doggos. All you have to do to make them happy is never look away and never stop playing with them. Whereas kids are just waiting for you to look away so they can get your scissors and scotch tape without any adult supervision. 

When you look up, your sparest of spare rooms looks like this.

Fortunately that room has a door that you can just close while you play frisbee with Roper in your dandelion sea. 

 

 

Pathetic Dreams of a Chronically Stressed Out Woman

We were talking about flying dreams today, friends who'd had them or never have. It got me to thinking about dreams, especially those repeating ones you have for years or throughout your life, and how I learned to stop the worst of them.

My flying dreams had been wasted as I'd purposely never flown higher than the treetops. It's cold up there. After developing chronic vertigo, I begged my subconscious to stop them altogether because more often than not my spinning started while I slept. My flying dreams began to take a turn for the worse and I'd wake up spinning. They stopped one day, after dreaming I ran across a field and took to the air only to wake up to the dreaded swooping and swirling of one wicked case of vertigo. 

Long ago out of sheer desperation I found a way to stop dreams. A  friend lost her little girl in a drowning accident, and I'd dream that I found my own daughter floating face down in the pond in the back yard. I'd wake shaking and I still remember sitting up and saying, "No, no I will never do this to myself again. I won't have this dream ever again." Somehow it worked. When that dream would start, and I'd be walking toward the pond with cattails waving and skirting fire ant mounds, I'd say to myself in my dream, "I'm dreaming. I'm not having this dream again." And I wouldn't. I'd go on to another dream. 

Since then I can almost always choose not to have a dream. Though I have recurring ones that I apparently don't mind enough to fight. You know, the one where you're getting ready for work? You wake up and make your bed. Take a shower. Dry your hair. Get dressed. Drive to work, wake up and have to do that all over again in the real world? I hate that dream. There's a grocery shopping version too. 

After I had kids I'd be at work with them. One in a cradle by my desk. Another getting into things as I tried to juggle amusing the child and getting my work done. I had that dream for decades. The most ironic thing about it was that when my kids were that little I'd taken those years off of working. I didn't have to juggle both. Go figure.

Those variations of work dreams plagued me long after I changed careers and no longer had to race the clock with daily drudgery while I banged away on a computer and in my dream job the office slowly filled with water. I had to finish before I drowned. I never finished but happily woke up before the water got completely over my head.

Yet the most pathetic dream was my telekinesis dream. I've had this one since I was a kid and I still have it sometimes. In it I know exactly how to move things with my mind. It takes a concerted effort to do it, requiring a near painful focus. What do I do with this amazing talent in my dreams? Why, I flip light switches on and off as I walk through the house or office. After a night of that I always have a headache.  

The best part of these kinds of dreams is bringing them up in a group when you're struggling for conversation. Suddenly we all have something in common and something to say. One of my favorite early morning texts is from someone saying, "You will not believe what I dreamed last night!" At least I know it's not just me!