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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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The story continues...
After dropping the injured bird at the SPCA, Tiff and hubby went to lunch at Steak & Shake. Then they saw a movie at the cheapie theater. I forget which movie they saw. You'll have to ask him. 
Tiff spent much of Saturday and some of this afternoon playing with the sprinkler and in the mud. I think she left her muddy clothes here for me to wash rather than taking them home to mom. Good call.
Weird thing, though. For some reason last night at about 11 pm, Tiff called her mother and said she wanted to leave. Hubby was just about ready to go to bed. Or so he thought. Tiff had done this one other time and hubby took her home as she asked. This time he put his foot down since it was so late.
We tried to find out what that was all about. She didn't appear to be bored the whole time she was here. That has been a problem in the past. She expects to be entertained, and if her neighborhood friends are off camping or something, that leaves hubby and me to come up with constant activities. I don't remember needing any adults to help me think of things to do at that age.
But this time, she was occupied and seemed happy. Until she asked to go home. I wonder if her mom put that idea in her head when Tiff called her to say good-night. Could be.
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Let's lighten up. 
How about a joke. This was in Reader's Digest, June 2007 issue.
A little boy was wailing about having stubbed his toe.
His mother asked, "Which one?"
His response? "The one that had roast beef." 
You got it, right? This little piggy...
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I got a new writing newsletter the other day. One that I had requested. The first issue arrived and I started reading.
I don't remember what the first article was about. There were about a dozen lines, then one of those "more" buttons to click. I clicked and found myself on a page where I learned that I had to join to read the whole article. What?
I went back to the newsletter and discovered that every "more" button lead me to the same page where I had to join to read more.
Grrr. That isn't a newsletter. A newsletter has complete articles in it. What I got was a big advertisement with teasers. That's just not nice.
Know what else? As I read the joining form, I discovered that they had conveniently already checked some answers at the bottom for me.
X Yes, I want to receive newsletters from all divisions and subsidiaries and related and unrelated companies and organizations that this writer's organization decides. (Okay, I'm exaggerating just a bit.)
X Yes, I want to subscribe for 5 years for the reduced price of $XXX.
(Okay, maybe it was only 3 years.)
X Yes, I want to provide 15 email addresses of friends and relatives.
(You got me. It was only 5.)
But you get what I mean. Not only were the not providing a real newsletter, they had checked all of these things for me. If I had ordered and not realized what was checked, I could have been getting newsletters and who knows what else from dozens of companies and organizations.
Grrr. Really not nice.
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In case you haven't heard, winter could use our prayers. Here's Budroe   's entry to tell more. "Invalid Entry" 
Stop by Raven's port and read some of her work. Then drop her a line and tell her that you're praying for her. |
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