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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:
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Thanks to everyone who has been praying for Angela's Niece needs Praye   . Hubby talked to her niece a while ago. Angela is doing well enough now that they're taking her out of ICU. They're even talking about maybe sending her home soon, but with a nurse. Yippee! God is good. |
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That title will only make sense if you read Wednesday's entry - the first one - and chances are that you have not.
Last night about 6:30ish, I was having the typical fibro/chronic fatigue meltdown. Hubby was also getting ready to crash for a while and he told me he liked my blog entry. I asked him which one. "Today's entry about the tower," he said. I informed him that I had two entries for the day and he said he'd look at the other one later.
I really did sleep soundly. I remember his beeper going off, but I couldn't tell you what time that was. (He said he got about an hour nap.) Then at just past midnight he crawled into bed and I asked, "Whacha been doing?"
It turns out that he turned on the bedroom light and hooked up his laptop to try to fix a work gliche from the house. When that wouldn't work, he got dressed and went into work. When he got back, he then got ready for bed and I woke up, not because anything he did woke me, but because I needed a pit stop. It worries me sometimes that I can and do sleep that soundly.
I'm awake now, so here I am.
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Now, about that Thursday's child title above... When I logged on, I discovered that folks had commented about the Bok Tower entry but not about the first one of the day. I wondered why that was. Well, while I was working on that entry yesterday, I put it on "Keep private" and never changed it. DUH!!!
So...if you wouldn't mind, would you please go back and read yesterday's chit-chat?
Yes, right now. I'll wait.
Tapping foot... Done? Okay, on with Thursday!
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Yesterday, one of our writers sent me a nice review on my piece about Mr. Rogers. If you have never read it, it's right here: "My Favorite Neighbor" 
She said that she had heard that Mr. Rogers was in the service and killed a bunch of people and that's why he ended up being so peaceful. Well, I had never heard that story about Mr. Rogers, so I went searching.
It was an urban legend, of course.
Here's some of what I found on urbanlegends.com, plus the link:
"Fred Rogers won our hearts, true enough; but the rest of the story is hogwash. After graduating from Rollins College in Florida with a degree in music in 1951, he immediately embarked on a broadcasting career -- a career that continued uninterrupted for nearly 50 years, even while he studied for a Bachelor of Divinity degree, eventually becoming an ordained minister in 1962. Far from hiding a secret past as a trained killer, Fred Rogers was an exemplary individual who devoted his entire adult life to educating and bettering the lives of children, and as such he deserves to be remembered."
http://urbanlegends.about.com/library/bl-mr-rogers.htm
I also found an article by someone who grew up as a real neighbor of Fred Rogers and went to church with him.
http://www.time.com/time/sampler/article/0,8599,88632,00.html
And this from someone who interviewed Mr. Rogers:
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/165/story_16581.html
I believe it was at this time of year four years ago that Mr. Rogers died.
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When I woke up after my 5 1/2 hour nap, for some strange reason, a line we used in my childhood kept running through my mind.
"It's all Dutch to me." I guess we said that because there were Pennsylvania Dutch all around?
But what possessed us to tell babies, "You're Dutch"
as we interacted with them. Strange. As they gooed and cooed, that was our response to them.
You know how the mind works.  Thinking about those two phrases also made me remember an elementary teacher who always said, "It's all hieroglyphics to me."
Of course, "normal" folks say, "It's all Greek to me."
Right? Am I right? Hello? Are you out there?????
Guess not. I think everyone's sleeping. |
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