Archive | May 2014

Magic ‘shrooms

I watched a show tonight that is fairly new called Black Box.  Tonight’s episode included a former neurosurgeon who was dying from a brain tumor that had spread to his liver.  Dr. Black gave him a small dose of the active incrediant from what we call magic mushrooms, or ‘shrooms.  The man had a mild hallucinogenic trip that took him past his fear of death, showing him multiple doors to pass through and what lay behind some of them.  He found peace, and relaxed his anxiety about dying.  In the show, he passed away in peace.

I believe God gave us every plant on the earth for our good use.  But the old addege goes, ” all things in moderation”.   Researchers have found excellent medicinal uses for LSD as well.  If these drugs had not been misused recreationaly, we might have come to the medical breakthroughs a lot sooner.

Here is a link regarding the research: Continue reading


Starting Over

After losing my job in 2010, I tried hard to find another job in the same field. After awhile I gave up, and eventually fell into a depression. I have had depression before, but this time it was really bad. My family rescued me, and I found a place to let go off everything and just rest. Now, I am more myself again, and able to reflect on what has happened, where I am and where I should go with my life.

I recently read a short article about potted plants. It said that when the plant stops flourishing you should take it out of the pot and check its roots. If the roots are going in circles around the perimeter of the pot, the plant is root-bound. It has taken all the nourishment it can from the soil. At this point, it is time to re-pot, or plant it in a garden to flourish again. While re-potting you have to manipulate the roots back outward so they will resume their path of growth and receive nourishment. You might even have to cut off the bottom portion of the roots if they are very bound up. This helps it let go of the parts of the roots that are not functioning well.

This is how I see myself. A re-potted plant. One of the women I used to work with was always telling me that I was too talented for the job I was doing. Perhaps if I had listened to her and explored other avenues earlier I may have avoided the depression that was so devastating. I guess I wasn’t ready, I was too comfortable.

So, here I am now. I have decided that I want to write. I am starting with this blog, and I will search the internet for everything I can find about writing. I am stretching out my roots, into this big world, to see what other nourishment it has to offer.

If you choose to read the articles on my blog, please leave a comment. I believe the comments will help me on my way.Image

Dr Maya Angelou passed away today.


this poem that she wrote gives me courage, I can only hope to measure up.

Dr. Angelou’s poem that made a difference for me:

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

~Dr. Maya Angelou

The magic of being 3 years old

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Ever since Sammie saw the movie Frozen, she started to believe that she too has magic.  I do not discourage her belief because I do believe we all have some magic in us.  I decided to let her explore this idea in her own way and to follow along as best I can.

We were sitting on the patio swing and she asked me if I wanted to see her magic.  “Oh yes,” I replied, “I would love to see it.”  She stood up and faced me, and made a fist with one hand and started to rub the other hand over that fist, and then reversed hands. She did this several times, and held her hands up to the sky, palms up.

“Did you see it?” she asked, smiling.   “yes I did see it” I replied.  “But will you tell me what I am seeing, Sammie?”

“Sparkles!” she said.

“Ah yes, and they are so beautiful!, Do it again!” I said.  And she happily complied.

Another time, we were in the house playing in the living room.  She came over to me, her hands obviously holding something that I couldn’t see, by it’s corners.

“It’s for you grandma” she said.  I reached out and took the “corners” from her hands.  “It’s very pretty Sammie, did you make it?”

“yep, its my magic” she said.

“Oh! Well then, let me give you some of mine!” I said and I repeated her actions, and she happily took the magic I offered her, smiling, and released it into the air.

We have had a lot of fun playing with this.  But I sense that in her mind this isn’t pretend, she really believes.  And so does her grandma!

Children are magical, their unseen worlds are real, creativity abounds and if we accept this gift they bring to us,  we return to our own time of innocent belief.





Warm Blankets and Love

Sammie and her Gibbon

Sammie and her Gibbon


Sammie has another grandmother whom she calls Nana.  Nana is the mother of Sammie’s mother Courtney.  Nana is a really good grandmother, and she is good at something else, she can crochet like no one I have ever seen.  Her favorite thing to crochet, it seems, is baby blankets.  Of course she had one made for Sammie before she was even born.  Sammie received many blankets, but somehow she latched onto the one her Nana made.  It is crocheted from chenille yarn which makes it very soft, and it is in multiple colors of blue, pink, and white, and i think lavender.

Chenille is a fragile thing, you really can’t stretch it.  But a baby doesn’t know that.  When Sammie started teething, she got into the habit of chewing on this blanket.  She would sit around and let that blanket hang from her mouth as it got all wet from her drool.

She got to the point where she would not go to sleep without it, she would not leave the house without it, and if it wasn’t around she would look for it.

When she was barely 2 years old, she was staying with me for a couple of days.  We were walking down the hallway when she asked “Wheresmygibbon?”  I stopped walking and said “What Sammie? What is it?”  She said it again.  I said ” I don’t know what you are saying honey, say it again for me ok?”  She said a little louder “My gibbon!  wheresit?”  I still did not know what she was talking about, but now I knew by her “wheresit” that she was looking for something.

I asked her, “Where did you see it?”  She answered “S’on your bed?”.  “On my bed?” I repeated.  “Yes” she said.  So I went over to the bed and looked around on top of it.

” I don’t see anything here Sammie.  Well let me look  under these covers.”  I pulled back the blankets one at a time and then finally the top sheet.  There, in a little puddle, was her crocheted blanket.

I picked it up and said ” Is this what you are looking for Sammie?”  She threw her hands in the air and gleefully shouted ” My gibbon!!”

Aha, I thought to myself, her blanket has a name!  I felt pretty smart for figuring out that she had named her blanket.  She reached for it and hugged it to herself with both arms.

When I took her home after church that Sunday, I told her mother about this.  Nope, they did not know that gibbon was her blanket.  They had heard her say the word but didn’t know what she meant.

Sometime later Sammie came to stay with me and my folks again, but she forgot to bring her gibbon.  The look on her face when she figured it out was heartbreaking.  But my mother had a small crocheted blanket in the doll cradle.  She picked it up and showed it to Sammie.  ”

Look Sammie”, she said,  GiGi has a gibbon too, and you can use it while you are here. Is that ok? Can you use my gibbon for now?”  Sammie slowly accepted this strange but colorful blanket and walked off with it.  She was ok for now.

She hasn’t forgotten her gibbon since then.

She is over 3 years old now, and still attached to that gibbon.  I know her mother has to sneak it into the laundry.  She uses a lingerie bag to wash it in because by  now its ripped, shredded, and barely holding itself together.  Sammie is always so excited to get it back from the laundry, clean and fresh and still in one piece, more or less.

I once mentioned to Sammie’s Nana that I would love to have one of her blankets for myself.  This past Mother’s Day, over at Sammie’s house, I was presented with my very own Gibbon.  Nana had chosen the colors just for me, and I think it is absolutely beautiful.  Its larger than Sammie’s gibbon, big enough to cover my lap and legs.

When I took it out of the gift bag, I said, “look Sammie!  Grandma has her very own gibbon!”   Sammie looked over at me, not smiling.

I said, ” what is wrong Sam? Come here to Grandma and see me”.   She walked over to me, slowly.  ” Now what is wrong honey?” I asked her.  She just reached out and touched my new blanket.  I sensed she was feeling jealous, or left out some how.

“Do you like my gibbon?”  She nodded.  ” Can I wrap it around you so you can wear it?”  She nodded again.

I wrapped it around her like a long dress.  She stood there looking down at it, then smiled and took it off and gave it back to me.  I think she was satisfied that she still like HER gibbon better!

There was another time in my life, long before Sammie came along, when a blanket was a comfort to me.

My second husband and I had not been married for a year when he decided he didn’t want to be married anymore.  The relationship was abusive, but I hadn’t realized it yet, and I was so distraught over his wanting to leave that I tried to take my life.  I failed at this, and ended up at the county hospital.

Everyone was nice to me there, the doctor telling me she wanted me to live, that she didn’t want to  see me suffering like this.  The nurses very gentle.  I drank the charcoal willingly.  That stuff is just nasty and leaves your skin smelling like kitty litter for days.  I do not recommend it.

Once they were satisfied that the pills were out of my system and I had calmed down, they parked me on the gurney in the hallway, waiting to be taken up to the psych ward for an evaluation.  It was around midnight by now and the lights had been dimmed.

I was sitting up, leaning on the wall.  I felt so tired, so wrung out. So lost.  I really still did not want to live.  I said a silent prayer. I told God that I could not do this anymore.  It was too hard to live this life.  I told him that if he wanted me to live then he would have to do it for me.

Almost immediately I felt this warmth flow over me, slowly from head to foot.  I felt this warmth wrap itself around me, and my mind pictured a warm blue blanket wrapped around me.

I realized this was the Holy Spirit.  Words came into my head, saying “You were ok before you met him, you will be ok now. You still have your job, you still make enough money for you and your son to live on, you will be ok”.

And I was. I mean immediately, I was OK.  I felt peaceful and ready to go home.  They released me at 6 AM that morning.

My life moved on, I raised my son, I worked at my job, I went to church, I held my friends close.  And life went on.

I am so very glad to be alive now, to be my son’s mother, to be Courtney’s mother-in-law, to be my parents daughter, my sister’s sister, a friend to my friends, and most of all to be Sammie’s Grandma.

A warm blanket is love.  It is love from the one who gives it.  Sammie and I each have a blanket made with love by her Nana, and I hope one day she will know the blanket of love that is the Holy Spirit.


Being a Grandma with Fibromyalgia

I had intended to spend this morning doing laundry and blogging some more about my grand daughter Sammie.  But I have a case of “fibro fog” and for all of me I can not bring up the memories I had thought of the other day to share.  I know they will come back and I promise myself to blog them immediately and not wait.

Do any of you suffer from fibromyalgia?  If you do, how do you cope with the brain fog that is common with this stupid stupid condition?  I would really love to know.  All I can think of to do is to drink fluids and rest.  Do mindless things that don’t tax my brain.  But it makes me sad and makes me feel older than I am.


I want to write an article about friendship.  I have my own experiences but I am interested in the experiences of others. 

Did you make friends at work and keep them after you left that job?

Do you still have contact with friends you made in school? How often?

Have you had an experience of being down and out and finding out who your real friends are?

Have found long lost friends on Facebook or other social media?

What do you look for in making new friends?

Please let me have your input, it will help me build a great article!