I’m weird.  I’ll put it right out there.  I’m not embarrassed or ashamed by the fact.  I don’t feel less.  In fact, I like me.  I know me.  I know where I don’t fit in.  And where I do.  And I am okay with me.

I’d be worried if I wasn’t weird.  Different.  Because each and every spirit on this earth is supposed to be individual.  If we were all the same, we’d only need one of us here on earth.  If we were all the same we’d all be attracted to each other and that would just be one huge pile of humanity on top of each other!

I am unique.  I have something of my own to offer this world.  It might not be much in the scheme of things.  It might not change the world, or even make a ripple in the sea of life.  But it’s still necessary and important because it’s my unique contribution.  Even if I only ever impact one little ant on this earth, I have made a difference by being here.

Last week we had excessive heat warnings here in Phoenix.  People dragged and lagged and overall complained.  Everywhere you went folks were talking about the horrible heat, commiserating with each other on how to survive it.  And there was me, high on life because I was in my element.  I can walk outside and feel instant soothing to my bones.  Yes, I get hot.  I even get lethargic if I’m out in it too long, or exert too strenuously in direct sunlight.  But I love the heat.  It soothes me.  Calms me.  Comforts me.  So I’m different.  At least I know what I like!  What I need!  And maybe I can use my unique ability to tolerate excessive heat to some good.  To contribute something worthwhile.  Something simply like the clean up landscaping I did last week for my mother.  The backyard was bothering her.  She couldn’t be out in the heat.  I could be.  Done.

Or maybe it’s more than a simple job.  Maybe I know that the heat calms me.  Soothes me.  And so…if I’m feeling out of sorts, or even just grumpy, I can serve those in my life by stepping outside into the Arizona sunshine.  I can soak up the warmth.  Let the calm heal my spirit.  And be as kind to those around me on bad days as I am on good ones.  I can better deal with my stress so that it doesn’t overflow onto those I love.

The point is, I am me.  Just as you are you.  Individual.  Unique.  With something to contribute, to do, or think or know, that no one else has or can do, or knows.  Your mind works in a way that is single only to you.  Your thoughts won’t be thought by anyone else in exactly the same way.  Your mental process is your own particular recipe.  And your emotions are as well.  You have some things in common with some people.  Some in common with others.  And, I’d wager a guess, something in common with no one at all.

And this is as it’s meant to be.  It’s not only okay to be you – it’s necessary and valid and good to be you.  That is the only way you can give the world what only you have to give.  The only way to live your life to the fullest.  To get the most out of who you are.

And…to be truly happy.

Allan continues to amaze with his post-surgery progress.  He’s doing so well that I’m feeling twinges of PT envy!  There, I said it. 

His physical therapist not only comes to the house to see him twice a week, she has long, naturally blond hair, is contagiously funny and inspiring, and her name is Shawna. 

My PT’s name is Sara. I have to drive miles on the freeway to see her every other week, and she’s already showing signs of wanting to get rid of me after just two sessions.

It’s not that I covet Allan’s perky young therapist or that I’m eager to have someone invade my home twice a week.  I don’t even mind the drive, but how about a cute, funny and inspiring guy with sun-streaked hair, named, oh, I don’t know … Shane?  Or Sean?  Or even Sam? 

Is that asking too much?

Okay, just one more update before I end the misery.  There’s an important addition that must be made to my Things I Wish I Could Do list: 

Facebook.

Is it possible to have a Facebook phobia?  Why else would I not know who my Facebook friends are?  Is there a list stashed somewhere? 

I discovered this flaw in my cultural education at dinner last night with a dear writer friend who’s moving to northern California, which, according to Google, is about 700 miles away!  I opened up to her about my fears of losing touch with her and she gave me a list of all the ways we would stay close despite the physical distance, including regular postings to each other on Facebook.

I immediately confessed that I’d been on Facebook for longer than I wanted to admit but still didn’t know how to go about friending her.  (Is that the right term?)  That’s when she told me we were already friends and had been for months.  She apologized for being bad at keeping up with Facebook, but vowed that would all change once she’d moved.  We would be Facebooking several times a week.

Bad at keeping up with Facebook?  At least she knew we were friends. 

Of course, I assured her I’d go straight to the bookstore and find a Facebook for Dummies book, to which she gently responded that Facebook was much too easy for such a book and the quickest way to learn the ropes was to lure a teenager from the nearest mall and bribe them with gift cards to teach you the basics.

I’ve cleverly kept it to myself until this very moment, but if kidnapping is well and truly the solution to my Facebook problem, I have a better idea.  Now all I have to do is come up with an irresistible gift card for a young, funny and potentially bribable PT of the male persuasion named Sam!

Suzanne

I’m back again.

I would have posted earlier but power problems interferred.    My air-conditioning has been going on and off for the past week and finally resulted in all my power going off Friday afternoon.   Just try to find a repairman on Friday night and Memphis is hot.   Very, very hot.    Add to that I can’t drive and didn’t have anywhere to go with two dogs in tow.

But now everything is back on.  Cooling down, and I finally made my way upstairs after my knee replacement.three weeks ago.

All was going well until the power breakdown.

I can walk on my own, although I have to be very, very careful, especially with stairs, and my trusty computer is upstairs.   I had bought a laptop to use, but it and I had connection problems so I’ve been electronically isolated..

I’m still doing physical therapy three times a week.   There’s still some pain at night and it will be three weeks befeore I can drive a car.   I have cabin fever, but overall the knee replacement has been well worth while, and I suspect I’ll be doing a jig in a month.

My critique partner, Carolyn McSparren, is also having problems.   Her husband, George, is in the hospital and she probably will not blog tomorrow.

But I’m really happy to be back and thanks for all the good wishes..

I’ve got this hero.  His name’s Tanner.  I know.  Kind of romancey name for a guy.  I didn’t seek it out.  It was just there.  Tanner.  That was his name.  I thought maybe I’d be okay with the name and he’d be a cowboy type.  You know, an Arizona rancher.  Something I could know something about.

Nope.  He’s a vintner.  And he can’t live in Arizona because his book is book two in the Lemonade Stand series coming out in 2014.  The Lemonade Stand is located in a fictitious town that would be Santa Barbara, California if it were real.

I toured wine country once.  Several years ago.  I remember about fizz in champagne.  And oak barrel tastes that I didn’t like.  I remember being cold in a cellar.  I remember riding a cart out to a vineyard.  I don’t remember anything that would actually help me know what in the heck Tanner is doing all day.

I did a lot of research.  Read a lot.  All last week.  Tanner was taking shape.  But I didn’t KNOW him.  I could make up enough of a vintner’s day to get by.  Not enough to write the in depth psychological looks at life I’ve become known for.  How can I get in this guy’s psyche if I don’t KNOW him?

A trip to Santa Barbara is actually on the horizon sometime in the fall.  Because of the series.  This book is due July 15th.

And on Saturday, Tim once again came to the rescue.  He discovered that in the past ten years, Arizona has developed its own wine country.  And has its own wine tour.  Just like that, off we went.  In Arizona wine country, just outside a little town named Cornville, there are several wineries right next to each other.  They’re small yet.  Five acres of vineyards or so.  Maybe 2500 12 bottle cases a year.  But I not only got to tour the facility, Tim and I lucked out (okay it was in the hundreds, we were just the only ones crazy enough to be out learning about the winery while everyone else stayed in and tasted).  We got the resident tour guide, who also happened to be part owner, to ourselves.  I could ask questions to my heart’s content.

And as I stood there, taking it all in faster than I could consciously organize the information in my mind, I found Tanner.  Or rather, he found me.  He sucked me right into his psyche, let me see what I had to know.

And then he invited me to taste his wine!   Tim and I had specialty cheese, port wine jam and biscuits as we sampled wine from more than one winery.  And we found some wine that was too good to pass up, so we brought a bottle of it home with us.  There are some fringe benefits to this job, you know!

Things are looking up around the Forster household.  It was touch and go for about 24 hours after I brought Allan home from hospital Saturday evening.  There were even moments when I thought he might have to go back for more help with his occupational and physical therapy, but we perservered. 

With the help of Allan’s two grown sons, we got him up the stairs to the house and into the hospital bed I ordered for the living room.  A much larger problem loomed when we realized he couldn’t get out of bed on his own and that I wouldn’t able to help him without risk of reinjuring my sprained back. 

Saturday night was a VERY long night.  Neither of the kids could stay the night, but they were on call in case we needed them. Fortunately, things took a decided turn for the better when at 4 am Sunday morning, Allan decided he was getting out of that blankety-blank bed.  And he did!  I stabilized him a bit as he got up and steadied the walker when he was on his feet, but he did all the work.  He even took a couple of turns around the living room.  We still had the three steps to the dining room, kitchen and guest bath to conquer, but that could wait.  I knew he’d lowered the odds considerably that he would be going back to the hospital–and I can’t remember ever being so proud of him!.

Remember that this is his second hip replacement and the first one, on the opposite hip, is wearing down, so he’s dealing with a very challenging situation. 

Long story short, it’s been looking up since the first do-or-die twenty-four hours.  He had his first visit from the home health care nurse yesterday and she worked him pretty hard, making him do laps around the kitchen, front entry and dining room.  She said she wanted him to have clocked at least twenty laps by the time she returned Wednesday!  He calls her Brunhilda, which is fairly apt–and quite brave of him.   

So, lots of progress being made.  This morning, he woke up early and got himself some breakfast.  No real cooking involved, unless toast counts.  It smelled so delicious I thought I was dreaming at first.  Of course, I got up and joined him.  Toast and honey.  Is there anything better? 

Oh, and those three steps down to our sunken living room were a snap.  He’s now eyeing the full flight of stairs to the second floor, where his computer is calling to him from the den.  <g> 

Suzanne, otherwise known as the Hip Whisperer

Charles Schultz was right. Happiness is indeed a warm puppy. My friend recently lost her wonderful Bouvier Gamby. He and his sister are the prototypes for Louise’s Bouviers in the Mossy Creek Series. Katy pre-deceased Gamby, so suddenly a month ago my friend was faced with her grief, but also being without a dog—and I mean a BIG dog—for the first time in many years.

We cried about Gamby, who considered all hundred and thirty pounds of him could fit nicely in her hundred pound lap. I did not, however, presume to say that thing to her that so many well-meaning people say, “You need to get a new puppy right away to take his place so you won’t miss him.”

Excuse me? I’ll probably get into trouble with non-animal lovers, but that’s like saying, “Oh, your husband/child/sibling/parent died? Get another to take his/her place right away so you won’t grieve.” Ridiculous! I have three horses and three cats. Not a one is any more replaceable than my husband or my child or my friends.  When my big old Ollie died suddenly while I was away at a horse show, losing her big ole fourteen pound cat self like to have killed me. I didn’t even get to kiss her goodbye. Frankly, there are times when I get a whole lot more love from my animals than I do from my family.

So, I didn’t suggest a new dog. Then yesterday when I called I could hear yips in the background. She has an eleven week old Labradoodle who is supposed to weigh no more than forty pounds grown. I seriously doubt that upper limit, but he shouldn’t top a hundred in any case. George and I are visiting the new baby right after Sunday brunch. It’s been a long time since she had a baby dog. She sounds every bit as harassed as the mother of a newborn human infant.

At least you don’t have to potty train kittens. Well, not much, at any rate.

I believe all things happen for reason.  I often don’t know the reason, but I believe the reason is always there.  And this makes life a two part challenge.  First, I must learn how to accept the not knowing.  To trust that, even when I don’t know the reason, it IS there.  The ‘happening’ is serving me in some way.  It’s hard to give up the control of knowing and understanding, to just trust that something that is difficult or upsetting is actually a good thing in the big picture, that the pain is somehow serving a purpose.

Second, the challenge is to be aware, to be open, to be ready to get the message, the lesson, the understanding when it is there for my knowing.

My way of thinking is too woo woo for some.  A source of humor to others.  And I know, as I sit here and breathe, that this thinking is more factual, spot on and hard hitting than any proven laboratory facts.

Yesterday was my day to post my weekly blog.  I wrote it.  Liked it alot.  I took a lot of time on it.  Spent an hour getting just the right picture to work in just the right way.  And before I could publish it, it blipped away from the word press screen.  I walked away.  Said okay, it wasn’t meant to be.  But I wasn’t happy.  I really thought it WAS meant to be.  I went to lunch, stewed, and determined that the blip was just that, a blip.  I determined to take my time, write the blog a second time.  At least I had the picture ready.  And I knew exactly what I had said.  It took another chunk of time I didn’t have, but I took that time.  Calmly doing my best to share my thoughts.  I hit publish.  WordPress told me the blog published successfully.  And there was nothing there but a title.  My words had blipped away again.  Maybe the message was one of perseverance.  Maybe the words I was trying to share would have hurt me in some fashion.  I’m in the painful not knowing stage.

So I’m sharing what I do know.  There is a reason!  Yesterday’s blog mishap was a small incident with a huge reminder.  All things happen for a reason.  It is my job to trust that.  To know that ultimately all things work for a greater good.  Justice will be served at some point.  In some fashion.  No matter how things look in the moment, I cannot allow myself to be swayed from who I am and what I know to be correct.  I cannot let the bad that comes at me change me, harden me, or prompt actions that make me less than my best.  I must stay my course and trust.  Have faith and an open heart.  And know that, in the end, all will be as it was meant to be.  All will be okay.