Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Laugh when someone points out the obvious to you!

I consider myself to be a fairly intelligent human being. In some circles, I may even be considered smart. Common sense, however, sometimes evades me, and I am left looking I was robbed of my common sense.

Take, for example, the most recent time I ran out of gas (yes it is a frequent occurance but in my defense, the gas guage is broken). I was only two blocks from the house. I was able to pull up next to a curve. We were pressed for time, so I called Rob to see what he wanted me to do. He said he would just come and pick me up and we would head out to our appointment.

When he arrived, I got in his car. My question to him was, "Are you sure it's OK to leave the car here?" His response to me was, "It's out of gas, Rhonda. Who is going to steal it?"

Ask me about disease symptoms and cures...ask me about grammar and punctuation...ask me questions about the Bible...but don't expect me to be guided by this mysterious thing called common sense.

I have excuses for this lack in my life. I have too much going on, lack of sleep, Oklahoma is a highter altitude than Texas, I chew too much gum, I get too much sun, I don't get enough sun, it's too windy outside...

I am now in a Masters program. Among many things I hope to gain over the coming months, I hope a large dose of good common sense sinks in. Of course, I'm not sure what I would write about if I had it all together. I'm not sure what my family would laugh about.

Until that time comes, I will laugh at the obvious that I seem to miss. I am satisfied in knowing the many health benefits of laughter. Laugh with me.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

SPT-Laugh at Something Borrowed, May 19th

Back in January I was diagnosed with dumping syndrome. Not a pretty name/even worse disorder. Most victims of this illness have recently had gastric bypass surgery. I am the exception to the rule. I just have it. Medication and treatment keep it under control most of the time. The treatment involves laying down after each meal. If I stayed home all day every day, this would not pose a problem. Working full time did pose a slight problem.
We are all out of beds and couches at our office. I was not sure how this was going to happen. A friend here at work heard about my dilemma and came to the rescue. She loaned me this chair. It is a zero gravity chair (which does not mean it floats). It is designed for people with back problems. It is light weight and folds flat for storage. What a blessing it has been.
Of course, our offices are being remodeled. My new problem is finding a place to unfold my chair and lay down. Many days you will find me wandering the halls during lunch dragging my chair behind me looking for an empty room. Eventually I find one. Because empty rooms don't stay empty long, I have startled a few people as they entered the room. The look on their faces is cause for laughter. I will have this disorder forever. I have altered my life to accomodate this illness. I could cry, but I choose to laugh. Laugh with me.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Laugh When You Shop with Your Husband

It's almost Tuesday again. It's been a busy week at our house. It was not all work, however. Friday afternoon (I left work early), I took my graduation money and went shopping. The problem was that I took my husband with me. Don't misunderstand, my husband is wonderful. He will do anything for me, including suffering through a shopping trip. And he did.

How do I know he is suffering? About 15 minutes into the first store, his eyes begin to droop. He has already conquered the men's department, the automotive department (if they have one), and is now in my section "helping me" pick out clothes. I see the dissappointment in his face when he pulls something off a rack and I shake my head no. It doesn't matter to him that it is either too big, too small, or looks like it came out of my grandmother's closet. He is encouraged when I head for the dressing room with an arm full of clothes. He sets in the chair outside the room anticipating the trip is coming to an end. On the other side of the dressing room door, however, I am morified at the site of cellulite, pants too small or too big, shirts that feel like a straight jacket, and nothing that even comes close to fitting my body . Where are the women they designed these clothes for? There must be a lifesized Barbie prototype.

I leave the dressing room and hand the lady behind the counter all the clothes I tried on, and turn to find my husband almost in tears. Are you sure none of those fit? Not even one? I try to pretend I don't notice his state of desperation and quickly go back one last time to my department. This time he does not follow me. After round two is complete, I go to the front of the store to find him sitting in a wheel chair, a shopping cart, a wall extension, or just leaning against the wall.

I pay for the one thing I did find, and go to rejoin him. He asks in a faint voice, "Where to next?" Home is the only option, considering his condition. By the time we arrive home, his condition has improved and he is ready to conquer the remote control, the hammer and nails, or putting golf balls in the yard.

To the many husbands out there who endure shopping trips, I just have to laugh.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Something New, May 12, 2009

My something new surprised us last week. My husband noticed it first. These small black mounds all over the wood on the front porch. I thought it was dirt. He gave me a closer look. I was mortified to find out it was termites.

Termites are like something out of a horror movie. Every night while we sleep something is eating our home. They multiply quickly and take over. Our only hope is to call a local exterminator. They come out, dollar signs in their eyes, to rid us of the pesky little monsters.

Well, the appointmment is today. I am praying they have only slightly taken over. I pray our home is salvageable.

I am thankful though. I am thankful my husband knew what they were. I am thankful exterminators know what to do. Most of all, I am thankful we can't see them up close.

Friday, May 8, 2009

Laugh when the new exercise video comes in!

Here I go exercise video. But this was not going to be like all the others. After all, the friend who told me about it is in great shape (although she was probably born with those defined muscles). I don't want a body like Nicole Kidman, I just want to be strong enough to carry a gallon of milk from the car to the refrigerator.

My husband asked what had been charged from I had to tell the truth. He responded with a rolling of the eyes. I was so glad he did not say what he was thinking. His thoughts may have gone something like this...why do we have an exercise bike, a Gazelle, and a Total Gym in the garage, not to mention the library of dvd's entitled Buns of Steele, Abs of the Alps, Arms that don't wave twice.

I started this video a couple days ago. The woman leading the video, the one who talks and walks around while we sweat and die, is from The Biggest Loser. She is a mean woman. She has no sympathy. I make it through 1/2 of the routine before falling to the floor in a heap. Noelle, my 15 year old, kept saying "Mom, are you O.K." My mouth was as tired as the rest of me. I managed to utter a small yes.

Last night was the second time doing this routine. I was determined. I talked Noelle into doing it with me. She lasted 5 minutes. I decided not to let the mean woman intimidate me. She probably grew up with a bunch of brothers, or came from a rough home. Though at times I wanted to die; Though I often saw those spots in front of my eyes; Though my legs were like jello; I did it. 20 minutes of nonstop brutality. I was so proud. My daughter was again standing over me asking if I was OK. My husband, who sat in his chair on the laptop the whole time said a weak "good job, honey."

I will face this giant again tonight. The good news is I am determined. The bad news is I am only on the first of 3 levels. My hope is that this too will not fade into the library of dvds of the past. It will not join the exercise equipment graveyard of my house. And most of all, I will be strong enough to carry that gallon of milk to it's destination swiftly and effortlessly. I'll keep you posted.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

SPT- May 5, 2009 Laugh at Something Old

"What is it?," asked one of my highschool drama students as I pulled it from my box of props. Another student answered "It's an ancient phone." I think it was the word ancient that added 20 years to my life that day.

I did grow up with a phone just like this one. I didn't remember it being quite so heavy. I do remember how fun it was to dial the numbers and watch the dial go around. When did this phone become obsolete? When did we trade in the 20 lb dial up phone for the modern lightweight push button? Here we are 30 years later asking, "What is that?" I fear someday they'll be saying the same thing about me.

P.S. For those of you who read yesterdays post, I now know (thanks to a good friend and coworker) what a mohill is. It is actually a mole hill. She even provided a picture for me. Please tell me someone else out there didn't know that! I've just gotta laugh.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Laugh when you want to cry

Today is just one of those days. Nothing serious has happened, I'm feeling fine, but a few simple circumstances have created this desire deep within me to sit in a puddle of tears for time. Call it self pity, overeacting, mountain out of a mohill syndrome (what is a mohill anyway?). Since I am at work, and since many people would not understand the reason for my tears, I will choose to laugh.

I can laugh at the fact that I have a dog that needs counseling. I could laugh at the bird that attacks me when I get too close to his nest. I can laugh with my friends and family. Yes, I need a good dose of laughter for this day.

Tomorrow will look better. It always does. For today, I will dig deep inside to find precious laughter. I also plan to talk with the Lord, who eases my burden and laughs and cries with me.