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Monday, March 28, 2016

The Good and the Bad



This week has held both good and bad news. The bombings in Belgium stunned all of us. The horror, especially for the victims and their families, spread across the world. Since 9-11, we still can’t understand how people can do this to other people.

Last week wasn’t so good for me. I’d be doing great with exercises, walking, and physical therapy. Then Tuesday night, as I was leaving book group, I fell and landed on my hip. After getting up, walking, and driving home, I thought okay, it’s not broken. On Thursday, the pain really kicked in. While thinking I don’t have time for broken bones, I hit the ER. 

Here’s the good news. No broken hip. Thank God for watching out for me. I really have too much to do in the next month. A reminder to pay attention, especially when yakking away with friends. A special thank you to them for helping me up and rescuing my keys, phone, and purse—all of which when flying when I went down. A good friend wasn’t as fortunate. In January, she fell, broke her hip, had surgery for pins, which didn’t work, and had hip replacement the day I fell. I really wasn’t trying to be a copycat.

More good news. Spring has come and it looks like it’s staying. A major snowstorm skirted north of us, dumping lots of rain here but no snow. Two mallards, a drake and hen, sat on our deck rail. They’ve never done that before. I wonder if they remember Hubs throwing out bread crumbs for the past two summers. 

 

Best news. Yesterday was Easter. A celebration of Jesus’ resurrection. And a reminder that there is life beyond death. And hope. Hope for a better life than what we have here. I cannot imagine not believing in an afterlife. With all the ugliness in this world, I have to believe that in the next life we’ll find justice, forgiveness, and love.

I hope you all have a great week. That the good news outweighs the bad.

On Wednesday, I’ll be over at The Roses of Prose. If you have time, come and visit.

Monday, March 21, 2016

Spring



OMG, I think it’s here. The sun is shining, even if the wind is strong. Isn’t there something about March winds? The air smells different. Fresher, cleaner. Hubs and I had our first sundae of the season at Captain Sundae’s last week, so it must be Spring!
I feel so much more energized when it’s sunny. I even went for a walk yesterday. It was short, but it felt good. I’m going to try to go every day. Gotta toughen up for vacation. LOL

I’ve been going to physical therapy for my back for four weeks now, and it’s really helping. Plus, I’ve been learning a lot about the reason I’m in pain—besides the arthritis in my spine. You know the commercial that says you have to keep moving to help arthritis, but arthritis makes it hurt to move. A vicious cycle. When you don’t move (because it hurts to move), muscles tighten up.

The therapist has been working my hip muscles, which were really tight. And he’s given me exercises to do at home. Just a couple. He said they’ve found out if they give patients a whole list of home exercises, patients won’t do them. Too overwhelming. So true. At any rate, I’m getting outside and walking, keeping the hip muscles loose. A rolling walker really helps, too. Just like a shopping cart gets me through Walmart, Meijer’s, and Costco.

Now that the snow is gone, it’s so great to see green grass and the tips of daffodils poking through the ground. Birds are back. A mourning dove sat on our deck rail and serenaded us. The mallards are back in the pond. Can’t wait to see the babies. Hubs is all set to feed them again. Unfortunately, the geese have found their way back, too. I keep meaning to borrow my daughter’s dog to chase away the geese before they leave “deposits” all over the backyard.

Despite the sun, it’s still chilly here in West Michigan. At least the gray skies of winter are gone. I hope.

 
The Case of the Fabulous Fiancé starts in winter and goes into just the beginning of spring. The next book, The Case of the Meddling Mama, will take place in spring. There’s one thing you’ll see on the cover. Tulips. Can’t have spring in West Michigan without tulips.






So here’s to Spring, a time of rebirth.

Monday, March 14, 2016

How Daylight Savings Time Screws Up My Life



I hate two weekends a year. Yesterday was one of them. Thanks to Daylight Savings Time, we lost an hour when we turned the clocks ahead. You know the way to remember, right? Spring ahead; Fall back. It doesn’t matter to me whether we lose or gain an hour. It’s a pain in the rear.

Anyone who watched National Treasure knows that Benjamin Franklin came up with the idea of DST. While that fit the movie, that’s not exactly true. In a newspaper article, Old Ben (when he was envoy to France) suggested it to Parisians as a way to economize on candles. Of course, he also suggested a tax on shutters, rationing candles, and waking the public at sunrise by ringing church bells and firing cannons. And I thought losing an hour of sleep was a pain. Thanks, Ben.

So if it wasn’t Ben whose fault is it? A New Zealand entomologist named George Hudson in 1895 wanted more time in the evening for hobby of collecting insects. Insects? Really? As with many concepts, another man claimed credit. William Willett, an avid outdoorsman, disliked ending a round of golf because of dusk. C’mon, guys. Golfing? Why didn’t he just start earlier?

It doesn’t matter who came up with the concept of changing the clocks, or why, we’re stuck with it. I always thought it was to give farmers an extra hour in the evening to work the fields. Since we’re not an agrarian society anymore, what good is it? Supposedly, it’s to cut down on energy consumption. Since it’s light longer, we save on electricity. Okay, I’ll buy that.

It’s still a pain. Until 2006, my sister in Indianapolis was always an hour behind us in the summer. Good thing she doesn’t live in the northwest corner of Indiana. They changed to Central Time. She didn’t like the governor at the time but conceded that at least he gave them Daylight Savings Time.

With the exception of Hawaii and Arizona, all of the United States goes on DST. I can understand Hawaii. They’re in the middle of nowhere (actually the Pacific). But Arizona? It was bad enough that Hubs and I were two hours later than Son & Family. Now, it’s three hours. Figuring out phone calls and Facetime with Baby Girl is harder now. If it’s nine o’clock here, what time is it there? Would they be in the middle of dinner? Or if they called us at eight, would we be awake? When we drove to Arizona, we wouldn’t change our clocks until morning each day. That made it easier for our bodies to adjust. However, when we fly, it seems to take me days to readjust—especially on the return flight. Three hours is a big change.

Unfortunately, it makes sense why Arizona doesn’t go on DST. With the extra hour of sunlight, people used their air conditioners more resulting in more energy consumption. Interesting note: the Navaho Indian Reservation, which extends from Arizona into Utah and New Mexico, does observe DST.

I suppose that since I’m “retired” (from my job in the work force—writers never retire) DST shouldn’t bother me. I can go to bed when I want and sleep as long as I want. But it does throw my schedule off. Change is hard. Harder yet in November when we change back.

I’m also blaming DST for this post being late. Well, I was musing this morning. Does that count?


 Don’t forget to change the batteries in your smoke detectors.