Fragile

Whine alert. Ya might wanna skip it. :P

Today has been one of those "fragile" days. I have them every now and again. Weepy for no real reason. And I can't even blame it on menopause! That ship sailed 10 years ago.

I tried all the usual stuff. Counting my blessings. Getting out of the house. Peanut butter. Nothing has worked so far.

Compared to what many of my friends are going through now, my life is paradise. I am not kidding. MG, chronic pain, fatigue, and all, I still have it good. My head knows this.

But sometimes my heart is just sad.

Fenly

Every year, the Miss Mississippi pageant is held here in Vicksburg. Although in this day and age, pageants are getting somewhat archaic, this is still a huge moneymaker for my city. I was talking with a friend who has a daughter in the pageant and these days it is less about winning than it is about making contacts and gaining life experience. Her daughter has gotten modeling and commercial work since appearing in the pageant last year.

Tonight, as they announced the top 10, I was surprised when they called the name of a fellow church member. First time senior pageant entrants do not usually make that coveted top group. But 19 year old Fenly did just that. And she was terrific.

More than that, Fenly is a nice kid. She loves old movies and vintage clothing. She was an active member of the church youth group and is a mentor to a young girl. I was always impressed that when she had her pictures in the paper for being a homecoming maid, she was the only one who did not look as if she belonged on a street corner. Fenly is ladylike. That is a word used far too rarely these days.

This year top 10. Next year, Miss Mississippi!

Dixie

Five years ago, my young neighbor, Sam, came to our house bearing a small blonde bundle. It was her family's new dog, a Cocker Spaniel, named Dixie.

As evidenced by this photograph, Dixie soon learned to make herself at home. Sometimes she came over with Sam. Sometimes she just came to visit by herself. If the family could not find her, they knew to call our house.

Dixie loved to chase moles. We would see her out in our back yard with her nose underground and her nub tail sticking straight up in the air. She liked to be brushed, so my husband bought a doggie brush for her and would sit out on the front stoop and brush her until she shone.

Dixie was also unusually gentle for a Cocker. She would look at us as if she knew exactly what we were saying to her.

Unfortunately, this sweet pup also had autoimmune problems that had threatened her life more than once. She had beat the odds more than once. But, this time, the vet and the family were just unwilling to put her through any more. It was time to let her go.

Her family gently laid her in her bed and buried her in one of her favorite mole digging spots. If there is a doggie heaven for Dixie, it is sure to include moles.

Goodbye little Dixie. You were one of the best.

Framing

For the first time, I am having one of my watercolor paintings professionally framed. My husband took this snapshot of Bethel Presbyterian Church in Claiborne County, MS and wanted me to try to paint it. After a certain amount of weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth, I finally finished it.

This little church, which has since been painted (that makes it less picturesque in my book) sits near the ruins of Windsor. The church was built in the mid 1840s. A tornado destroyed the steeple, which Yankee soldiers had used for target practice marching to the Battle of Port Gibson, in 1943.

By next week, one of my own paintings will be hanging in my house.

Cool.

Stuff

Just some random musings on happenings of the week...

My art teacher heard those most beautiful words today. "The lump is not malignant." I was with her when she heard and rejoiced with her.

My dad is doing remarkably well, despite tiring easily. Not everyone comes through this surgery so well and I am thankful.

My stepmom's son and daughter-in-law have moved back in across the street from us. I am somewhat selfishly thankful stepmom will have "responsible" blood kin here as she gets older. I would do anything in the world for her, but I am happy to know that there will be more than "me" on board should the need arise.

I really like my new pastor! I think that he is going to be that rare combination of "preacher" and "pastor." Given the choice, I would rather have a pastor, but I will happily take a good combo.

We finally got that long, soaking rain that we so desperately needed last night. The grass and flowers looked refreshed and relieved this morning.

I am still loving my painting. I can paint even when it is too hot to be out or I feel too bad to do much of anything else.

I have much to be thankful for.

And I am.

"Air"

Like many people, I am sure, I was shocked and saddened to hear of the murder of Steve "Air" McNair yesterday.

Steve had ties to my own city of Vicksburg. His wife, Mechelle hails from here and they got married right down the road at Bowmar Avenue Church. One of my former co-workers, Doug, who played ball at Alcorn State University with him, was in the wedding.

Being one of the closest fair size cities to Lorman, Vicksburg benefitted when fans, media, and professional scouts came to see "Air" in action. You knew when there was a home game by the lines of cars sporting Alcorn flags turning to go down highway 61 South.

When Steve went to the Super Bowl, Doug was sent tickets to the event. And despite all the hoopla, Steve took time to send Doug back to Vicksburg with signed memorabilia that was auctioned off to benefit our local United Way. I remember the excitement at the Mental Health when Doug was showing off these prizes.

I don't know any details. I am not sure I want to know the details. But I do want to pause a moment in appreciation of what this man did for my city, personally.

Thanks, Steve.

Finally!

Last night I finally had a complete night's sleep with my own BiPap!

This saga began about 3 months ago, if I recall correctly. I took my broken BiPap in to see if it could be fixed and got a loaner. The loaner was OK, but worked just differently enough that I had trouble getting used to it. My original stayed in the shop for almost 2 months.

The first time I took my original home, it would not blow anything but small puffs of air. I had returned the loaner when I picked this one up, so I was stuck sleeping sitting up on the couch until I could get it back to Jackson. Turns out, it was a software problem that was fixable in the local office.

Once again, I took it home only to find out that the cord to the humidifier was missing from the "new" bundle of cords that was sent back from the shop. I used it without the humidifier, at the cost of waking up with a sore throat in the mornings until I could drive the 50 miles to get another one.

When I got that cord, I thought I was home free until I hooked up the humidifier only to discover that the adaptor to the humidifier was not operational. Another night on the couch.

Fortunately, I was spared another trip to Jackson by my friend, Teresa, who was coming to Vicksburg and picked the cotton-pickin' thing up for me.

Next time, I am gonna "accidentally" drop the thing in the Mississippi River and demand a new one.

Batteries

If someone really wanted to cripple our society, all he or she would need to do is take away all of our batteries.

I think about the number of things in my home that require batteries, and it boggles my mind. Flashlights, remotes, phones, tools, MP3 players, clocks, smoke alarms, tape players, weather radio, cameras, scooter, and I am sure there are some I have not remembered.

This morning, when my husband went to crank the van, he discovered that the battery was dead. We could not go anywhere until a new battery had been purchased and installed.

Forget nuclear weapons and germ warfare. Just take out the battery factories. Simple.

And scary.

Sheesh.