Deep Thoughts by Zuzu

I was just helping my son with his homework.  I needed a book to put my scratch paper on so I could match answers with him.  I grabbed one out of the basket by my chair.  It was called Becoming a Woman of Influence  by Carol Kent.  I picked it up at some Women of Faith conference where Carol spoke.  She is an amazing woman and a fantastic speaker.  If you ever get a chance to hear her, I highly recommend that you do.

After I finished helping him, I noticed that there was some papers sticking out of the book.  I pulled them out and they were notes from the conference.  There was a little “diddy” I had written in a corner that caught my eye. 

All sunshine makes a desert.

Wow.  I never thought of that.  No one really likes to endure tough times, but we all do.  Some have tougher times than others, to be sure.  But, what if you never had a bad day?  Would you ever appreciate the good days?  I doubt it.  I mean, do you appreciate the fact that you have a floor beneath your feet and not dirt?  Probably not.  We take it for granted.  But, if you lived in a grass hut in the darkest of Africa, you would most likely be grateful for a solid floor beneath your feet, if you ever got one.

• A side note–My family does come inside from a hot day and announce, “Thank you, Dad, for air conditioning!”  This is something that I used to do when I was a little girl with my family.  We were so happy to come into a cool home, and knew that there were certainly people out there that didn’t have that luxury.

A song I love by Switchfoot is The Shadow Proves the Sunshine.  This song helped me through my bouts of depression and the medication games.  I still sing it when I am going through a tough time.  Think about it.  You cannot have shadows without a light source.  So even when you are down and going through a dark time in your life, you need to remember that God is still there.  God is our source of light during those times, and if he didn’t exist or had forgotten you, then there wouldn’t be a shadow.  Just darkness.

There are a lot of people out there that go through more than you or I could even imagine.  I have a friend who seems to constantly find out there is something wrong with one of her two sons.  It is never something as simple as a broken leg.  Oh no.  There are always many, many tests to be done.  Several specialists to visit, etc.  She seems to always be in a good mood.  And when you ask her how she is doing, she always says, “Oh, hanging in there!” with a smile.  Of course, if you ask her about her sons, she will tell you the latest saga.  But, from the outside, you would never know what all is going on in her life.  I once said to her, “You know how the Bible says that God will never give you more than you can handle?  Did you ever wish that you weren’t so strong?”  She laughed.

So, the next time you are feeling all dark, depressed, or down, just remember today’s quote:  ALL SUNSHINE MAKES A DESERT.  (and remember, too–“desert” has one “s” and “dessert” has two, because you always want more of it.)  Wow.  Two lessons for the price of one today!

May God bless you all.

Thinking (not singing) in the Shower

I usually think a lot in the shower.  I don’t know why.  Maybe it is because I don’t have anything else to look at, enclosed in that “just bigger than a voting booth” space, other than my body (shiver).  Maybe it the relaxing warm water.  But, somehow, I always come up with something to blog about.

Then I get out.

Apparently, drying myself off also wipes away any memory I have of what I was thinking in the shower.  I know I had a great idea (or at least a good one) for today.  No idea what that might have been.  None.  I even had a great ending sentence!  Mind.  Blank.

So this morning, I’ve been trying to remember.  Let’s see…I walked.  Nope, that wasn’t it.  I cleaned the basement a little.  Nope.  Already wrote about that.  The exterminator is coming to give us a bid on getting rid of the fleas in our yard.  YUCK!  Definitely not it.  I just finished the book Twilight, but this isn’t a blog about books.  I know  it wasn’t about the Democratic National Convention or anything political.  You don’t need me to tell you who I’m going to vote for and why.  Who do you think I am?   George Stephanopoulos?  (And, yes, I had to look up the spelling of his name.  Can you imagine having a crush on him and writing that name all over your spiral notebook?  Wow.)

So, other than to let you know that after my last blog, I didn’t drink coffee for 5 days and just now get back to you.  I just don’t remember what I was going to treat you to today. 

Oh, well, I’ll think of it eventually.  Probably the next time I’m in the shower.  Besides, unlike many electrical products, this laptop did not come with the warning Do Not Use in Bathtub so I am certain it is safe.

I’m Still Here

I haven’t been on here for awhile.  No real reason, really.  Kind of tired.  Not sure what to blog about.  The Olympics are on.  (No, I have to be honest, that last one hasn’t factored in.  I haven’t been watching.  I know.  I know.  I’m some kind of unpatriotic loser.  Whatever.  It’s just not my thing.)

Just wanted to let you know that if you want to learn how to unclog a toilet, I did add the link to the video I saw on my Josephine the Plumber blog.  Thanks, Sara, for suggesting it.  Now I know how to add links to my blogs. 

I will add that yesterday I went to go get gas since my “You Are Running on Fumes” light came on in the van.  I had obviously picked the pump that someone had just topped off.  (I know it wasn’t you, Lynn!)  I stood there, and stood there, and stood there.  Click..Click..Click.  I was getting so frustrated I thought I was going to scream, “IDIOTS!” at the top of my lungs.  But, I didn’t.  I just took the nozzle out, placed it back into the island, and quit.  How irritating was it?  Well, my bill was $1.50.  No lie.  Let’s see, that’s not even half a gallon.  Oh, well.  It got me where I needed to go before I had to push the van off to the side of the road and call AAA.  Unbelievable!  PLEASE DO NOT TOP OFF!  You never know when someone with bipolar disorder will be the next customer, and you have just pulled the pin out of the hand grenade that we call our lives.  KA-BOOM!

Well, I’m going to go drink my morning coffee, sit and plan out my day, then I will be be back with an update on my latest therapy appointment.  SO HELPFUL!  (and, as many have mentioned, will save you money and time, since you may learn something without having to go in yourself!)

Oh No! Not Another List!

Yep.  Another one.

Things I dislike:

1. Getting my feet muddy.
2. Taking long showers.
3. Hot tea.

Things I like:

1. The smell of a hot car.
2. A fire in the fireplace.
3. When my husband comes home and gives me a kiss.

I’m Hooked on These Lists

Things I dislike:

1. Dinners that take much longer to prepare than they do to actually eat.
2. The first night of the season that it is the perfect temperature to open the windows and waking up with a nasty headache.
3. DVDs without gag reels.

Things I Like:

1. Metamucil wafers (taste good and work!)
2. Being the first one to put a knife in the peanut butter jar.
3. An empty trashcan.

Things I Love/Hate Part II

Things I Like:

1. Mr. Clean Magic Eraser
2. Finding so many of my favorite students on Facebook
3. Salt and Pepper Pistachios

Things I Don’t Like:

1. The way David Caruso stands whenever he talks, and how he either takes off his sunglasses or puts them on after he makes a statement.
2. Hot weather (We’ve been lucky this year.)
3. Fitted sheets that don’t stay fitted during the night.

Things I Hate/Like

I remember when reading the Mitford series of books, that Father Tim’s girlfriend/wife would always tell three things she liked and three that she didn’t.  I always thought that was really cool.  Cool because she wouldn’t dwell on the things she didn’t like.  She balanced out the good and the bad.  Kind of like playing the Pollyanna Glad Game.  (which I try to do in most circumstances.)  In fact, once I was so cold when we were camping, that I was miserable.  I even went to sleep in the van, and it wasn’t much warmer in there.  I was miserable and thought morning would never come.  I played the glad game with myself and thought, “Hey, people in concentration camps don’t get a break when dawn comes.”  Kind of extreme I know, but it helped.

So today, in honor of Cynthia Coppersmith, here are my three likes and dislikes:

I don’t like:

1. People that park in handicapped parking spaces that aren’t handicapped.
2. When people don’t say “thank you” when you hold the door open for them.  (I want to say, “You’re welcome, Your Majesty!”
3. Mushy peas

Things I like:

1. Smell of cookies baking.
2. Going out to eat with friends.
3. Going barefoot in the spring and summer.

Once a week, think about three things you like and three you don’t.  I’d love to hear from you!

Wearing a Raincoat When There’s Not a Cloud in the Sky

A good friend of mine’s son is going off to college for the first time.  She’s been counting down the days and blogging about it.  Sometimes it is an update on how they are getting prepared, and sometimes it is words of wisdom.  (Her blog is on the right of my page.  She’s stlworkingmom.  She used to write a column for the Post-Dispatch and is a gifted writer, in my opinion.  AND, the reason I started a blog.)

Well, in a recent post, she gave her son The Freshman Ten, which included 10 items of advice.  I was reading through them and laughing, and crying a bit too.  It just doesn’t seem like I’ve been out of college that long.  (I graduated 20 years ago.  HELLO!?!?!)

One of her pieces of advice was to wear a raincoat.  The next one was “Don’t roll your eyes at me, young man.”  I thought that was really strange.  So, I commented and said, “Piece of advice to The Boy:  Don’t wear a raincoat you’ll look like a dork.  Take an umbrella.  You are so tall that you will protect many a young lass that has forgotten hers.  (wink wink nudge nudge)” or something along that line.

My friend quickly emailed me and said she was laughing so hard!  “Raincoat” was a euphemism for condom.  Whoops.  I had no idea.  Well, I guess I’d heard it before, but had completely forgotten it.  Now my comment looked just slightly naive.  Now, let me explain that my friend got pregnant her freshman year, so she knows of what she speaks.  (I am happy to say, that she and her husband got married, had this wonderful young man, and are still happily married.)

So, yeah.  I’m a tad naive.  It did make me remember another condom story, which I am sure you will enjoy.  Trust me, Mom.  You won’t be embarrassed.

My first year of teaching (20 years ago!), I was teaching second grade.  As I was taking my class out to recess, I saw a used condom on the Kindergarten playground.  (It was separate from the regular playground and kind of in a secluded, dug out area.)  I was concerned that one of those little 5-year-olds would come out to play and think it was a fun balloon.  (eww.)  So when we returned from recess, I decided I’d better let the principal know.  Now back in those days, we didn’t have no fancy phones in our rooms.  Our only communication with the office was by the intercom which was broadcast across the room and you had to speak VERY LOUDLY for them to hear you.  Plus, in my school, we didn’t have real rooms.  We had move-able walls, so everyone around us could hear what we were doing, plus hear any communication through the intercom.

Needless to say, the intercom method was not an option.

So, I decide to send a note down to the office with a student.  Obviously, I can’t send a 7-yr-old down with a note that says “There’s a condom on the Kindergarten playground.”  Seven-year-olds can read, and I could already imagine the call I would get from an irate parent berating me for introducing his/her child to this new word.

I worded the note very carefully, and I thought it was quite clever, actually.  I’m sure you’ll agree.  “There is a Trojan on the Kdg playground.”  (Pretty good, huh?)

I went back to teaching the Pythagorean Theory, and then the Assistant Principal shows up at my door.  He has the note in his hand and says, “I don’t get it.” 

“What?” 

“I don’t get the note.” 

“What?!?!”

“What does this mean?”

So, completely red in the face, I whisper, “There is a Trojan on the playground!”

He shook his head. No idea.

Finally, I had to whisper with my eyes wide and face even redder, “There’s a condom on the playground!!!”

Then, it was his turn to turn red.  (And, he was a redhead, so he was redder than I)  “Well, I don’t know about those things!  I’m Catholic!”

“Well, I certainly don’t know about them either!  I’m not married!”  We both laughed nervously and then awkwardly turned and walked away from each other, never to speak of it again. 

Well, at least not to each other.  I tell the story quite often.  And now I’ve blogged about it.  But, I kept his name out of it.  (Oh, and a little epilogue…He’s got six kids.)

Josephine the Plumber Ready for Action!

Have you ever gone to someone’s house, and, uh, clogged their toilet?  I’m pretty sure this has happened to more than a few of you.  In fact, many of you will scoff, but internally know that you, too, have done this.  Let’s face it.  It’s embarrassing.  There’s no easy way to handle it.

My family and I went to Dallas recently to visit our friends from church and Tom’s brother.  When we were at our friends’ house, I went to take a shower and put my contacts in, etc.  When I flushed the toilet, I looked in the bowl and saw something swirling around in it.  I knew it wasn’t anything I had contributed, plus it was blue.  Weird, I thought as I watched it get sucked up.  As I was putting my contacts in, it hit me.  It was the 2000 Flushes cake from the side of the bowl!  I couldn’t really see it because my contacts were out, and, believe me, I’m practically blind without them. 

I tried flushing it again.  Water filled up….almost to the top….slowly went down.  Oh dear.  One more time.   Up….top…slow.  Great.  Now I get to inform my hostess about it.

I walked up to her and sheepishly said, “Uh, Liz?  I’ve kind of messed up your toilet.”  She laughed and quickly ran and got the plunger.  I said, “Oh.  No!  I didn’t do THAT!”  Then I explained what had happened.  She thought the plunger thing might work anyway.  We tried it.  No luck.  She went to check on the setup in another bathroom and sadly said, “It’s in a plastic case.  It’s not just the blue cake.  There’s a plastic part too.”  Oh man!  She went to get a wire hanger (look out, Joan Crawford!).  I told her to be careful not to scratch the porcelain.  She tried to get it out, but no luck. 

We deemed the bathroom off limits and she looked up plumbers on the internet.  Surprisingly, not too many answer their phones on a Saturday morning.  Finally, a nationally-owned-chain-that-shall-remain-nameless-but-rhymes-with-Foto Footer, answered.  This guy could not tell Liz when they could come, how much it would cost, or the price of a first-class stamp!

I was feeling just awful.  Now, I realize that this incident wasn’t exactly my fault.  I’m guessing I accidentally lifted the lid when I grabbed my towel and knocked it into the water.  I don’t know.   What I do know, is I did it.  Now, my dear friend is going to have to pay a plumber who knows how much to fix it.

Never fear, my friends.  I wasn’t taking this lying down.  No sirree!  I went on the internet to search for “unclog a toilet” and sure enough, there was a video (I think it was on ehow.com) about unclogging a toilet when you know that clog is caused by a solid object, such as a makeup tube.  Sweet!  I watched and watched until I was ready to present my case to Liz.  “Liz!  I think we can fix your toilet for under $10!”  The look on her face was worth a million dollars.  I told her to call the plumber and cancel.  Then, she became skeptical.  I told her, “Don’t sweat it.  I saw a guy do it on the internet.  We just need an auger.  It should cost us about $8.  We’ll either pull it out or push it far enough through that it will finally fall through.”  I could see her weighing her options…Spend $8 and let Michelle loose on my toilet or spend $200 and wait all day for a guy who knows what he’s doing, but has a giant butt-crack, to come fix it…She went with option #1.

We went to Home Depot, bought the auger for $8, and when we got home, I was ready to take it on!  Liz just enjoyed saying “auger” like Shrek saying “ogre.”  I shouted to Jayson, her husband, “I just saved you $192, bucko!”  He had no idea what the heck I was talking about, but smiled just so that crazy person (me) would leave the room.

I headed upstairs and got to work.  Huh.  This was a little harder to do than the guy showed online.   Well, I’ll do it again.  I cranked.  And cranked.  I sweated.  And sweated.  No butt-crack though.  Otherwise, I was a plumber in action!  Just no action.  I took a little break.  Liz looked a little disappointed.  I promised her I had not given up.  I just needed a little time to cool off.  As I cooled off, I wondered, “What happens if this doesn’t work?  Then, she’s going to have to pay the $200 and wait around for this plumber tomorrow or tonight.  We’ve got plans for tomorrow and tonight!  I can’t let her down!”

I put on my Supergirl cape and ran back up the stairs!  Da-da-da!!!  Crank…crank…nothing.  Oh, I did break off a piece of plastic on the auger, but it didn’t go into the toilet.  I realized I needed help.  I called downstairs for Superman (Tom, of course).  He rolled his eyes as if, “Yeah, like this is going to work,” when I told him what we were doing.  He held the plastic part steady while I cranked.  Nothing.  I’m telling him what I’m feeling, and he’s just sweating and wishing he were anywhere else besides here with me. 

We pull the auger out and I decide to see if I can feel the plastic thing with my hand.  Of course, this is when Jayson walks in.  “Eh.  How’s it going?”  Supergirl replies, “Fine!  Just fine!  I’m just seeing if it’s close enough now for me to feel with my hand!”  “Uh huh.”

I looked at Tom and said, “Okay.  Three more times and then we’ll quit, okay?  Just three.”  After the first crank and pull, we saw a little piece of blue come out into the bowl.  You would have thought we had found gold!  I was soooo excited!  I got down on the floor and put my hand up the pipe and exclaimed, “I can feel it!”  We inserted the auger one more time, and “Voila!”  There it was!

I was jumping up and down, screaming!  (Publisher’s Clearing House should have been there with their balloons, I tell you.)  I ran downstairs to show Liz.  She laughed and laughed.  Then she said, “Do you want me to take your picture?”  My response was, “DUH!”

The one that almost got away

Now, if you have read this entire blog, (which turned out MUCH longer than I had planned, I will reward you by telling a story on myself that I’ve only told my husband.  When he and I were dating, he lived in Springfield and I lived in St. Louis.  I was at his house and I clogged up the toilet.  I was horrified!  I had no idea what to do!  There is no way I could tell him, but it wasn’t going away on its own either.  I could have blamed one of his roommates, but unfortunately, the “evidence” was still there.  If I told my boyfriend, then that pedestal he had me on would be knocked right out from under me!  No thank you.  There was no plunger in sight, so I did what any thinking woman would do.  I grabbed a TON of toilet paper, grabbed the evidence, ran out the front door and threw it over the hedge in the neighbor’s yard across the street.

What?  You wouldn’t have done that?  Please.  I have no idea if he heard me come in the door or what happened.  I just remember running back into the house and washing my hands.  Over and over.  And over.

Then, I left it.  Yep.  Let his roommates take the blame.  After all, a lady like myself never would create such a situation.  Hand me my handkerchief, I feel faint.

Whatchamacallit

Before I even start the real subject of this post, I have to say that I absolutely LOVED this candy bar.  I don’t even know if they make it anymore, but it was soooo tasty.

Okay, now on to the real reason for this post.

I have been struggling with what term to use when mentioning my stay at the “loony bin” when I was being treated with bipolar disorder.  I was using “loony bin” because I thought it was kind of a funny term and would make people realize that I was fine talking about it, it wasn’t a taboo subject, and hopefully put them at ease.

I am realizing that it may not be doing that.  In fact, it may be doing the exact opposite.  Is it making them uncomfortable?

I remember when talking with my therapist and mentioning my stay at the loony bin that I didn’t know what to call it and that was the one I actually preferred.  He said that we don’t really have a good term for the place I spent my days, and then we moved on to another subject.

So, I’m going to ask my readers (both of you) what you would prefer someone in my situation would use, or if you have been in such a place, what term you use.

Here are your choices:

• loony bin
• booby hatch
• cuckoo’s nest
• nut house
• insane asylum
• funny farm
• asylum
• mental institution
• crazy house
• psychiatric hospital
• madhouse

Wow.  Put all of those together and you are ready to commit yourself, just by reading them all.  Am I right?

Any time I am mentioning my stay (and it is not always about my stay.  It is often to put something into the proper time period…as in “right before I went into the loony bin” ), I am reminded of Anthony in “Designing Women” who would always refer to his time in prison as “during my unfortunate incarceration.”  I loved that.  I wish I could come up with something that clever.  I’ve even thought of using it to describe my stay, but then people would think I had been in prison. 

And that would be crazy.