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About This Author
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Each Day Already is a Challenge
A Texas Sunrise
 
A friend, William Taylor, took this picture. He visits Surfside Beach with his dogs almost every morning, watching the sun rise while the dogs prance about at the water's edge.
This is only about ten miles from where I lived in Lake Jackson, Texas. Sadly, I only visited this beach about four times in the six years I lived nearby.
Each day is a challenge. A challenge to get by without thinking about the fibromyalgia pains. A challenge to stay awake when chronic fatigure wants to take over. And a challenge to navigate through fibro fog.
I haven't been writing as much as in the past. For years, I wrote at least 500 words a day. Now, I'm lucky if I write 500 words in month. Sigh.
For more information about what my day (or life) is all about with fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, chronic pains, IBS, depression and everything else thrown in, check this out:
February 1, 2007 at 3:11pm February 1, 2007 at 3:11pm
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It does seem that the year is progressing without me. 
Ahhh February. Tomorrow the Ground Hog will see his shadow and we'll be in for another eight weeks of winter. Well, duh. That's what the calendar says, and usually what that nasty ol' ground hog says as well. Why would this year be any different???
Two of our special presidents had birthdays in February. When I was a kid, we celebrated them separately. Now we lump all Presidents together and celebrate one Presidents' Day. Somehow that just doesn't seem right.
And then we have that day that is set aside for love - Valentine's Day.
I tend to think of Valentine's Day as my mother always did about Mother's Day. First, it's a great day for all the card and candy manufacturers and for florists.  Secondly, if you can't love me the rest of the year, what makes you think that loving me on one day is sufficient? It must be how God feels about how some folks celebrate Christmas and Easter and ignore Him the rest of the year.
Back in the dinosaur days when I was a kid, Valentine's Day was another day to single out popular and unpopular kids. Or artiscit ones and not so artistic ones.
We always decorated a very special box - usually a shoe box - where our secret valentines would be placed. It was like having our own mailbox for that one "special" day.
Those who had artistic talents or who could take their shoe boxes home to have parents or older siblings help them decorate their Valentine's Box always won the prizes for the prettiest, biggest, and most original boxes.
Those who were not artistic or whose parents were not likely to help, or those whose outside resources were lacking, ended up decorating their boxes at school with whatever resources were given. Their boxes often looked pitiful along side those marvelous creations that won the prizes.
Our Valentine's boxes were placed somewhere where kids could put their cards in them without being seen, if they so chose. On the day of our party, we opened our boxes and discovered how many or how few cards we received.
I usually receivd enough cards that I would not be embarrassed, but not as many as the more popular kids. I also usually found tucked inside a few fancy cards, which might or might not be signed. Usually those cards were from my "secret admirer(s)." Back then, we could not admit to liking anyone of the opposite sex until we reached junior high, and even then we might pretend otherwise.
I always felt sorry for the kids that were "odd" or not at all popular. Sometimes there was a campaign to make sure some kid got no cards at all, but I would not participate in such an activity. Even if I didn't sign my card (for fear of being teased), I always made sure everyone received a few Valentines.
By the time my baby sister (13 years younger than me) got to school, things were starting to be a bit more "politically correct." Rather than giving only some kids Valentine's cards, they were urged and encouraged to give something to everyone. Instead of anyone being embarrassed at receiving no cards at all, they would receive the generic cards from everyone. Special cards were made or purchased for special friends.
When my dad came home on Valentine's Day, he always had a huge heart-shaped box of candy for my mom and smaller boxes for each of his kids. I don't remember that my mother ever got my dad or us kids anything for that day.
Mom always helped us decorate our Valentine's boxes and helped us make or purchase just the right Valentines. But beyond that, I don't think she participated by buying or making anything for my dad or for us. Funny. I never thought about that before today. Perhaps she thought about the day as I do, although she never articulated it. Perhaps she also thought that Valentine's Day was a great day for florists and card and candy companies. Hmmm. |
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