What's In A Name?

As many of you already know, I moved from one state to another state this past spring. As with all major undertakings, this move was not without some hitches, glitches and general pain-in-the-ass moments--from registering kids for school to mail changes.

My basic personality resists change. I hate it. Sometimes I resent it. Most of the time, I avoid it as much as possible. Before we moved, I put in an address change to the Postal Service so that our mail would be forwarded. Little did I know that the person who gave me the new address transposed two numbers on the house, and now my mail is being forwarded to a wrong address. Attempts to correct this error have been to no avail.

Upon registering the grandkids for school, it was discovered that their birth certificates had been misplaced. I got online and ordered new certificates, and waited weeks to get them. Then it was time to transfer our driver's licenses/registration/title and tags. What a nightmare! Required documents included birth certificates, marriage licenses, social security cards and having to take the written test! Since I have not taken the written test since the late 1970's, I doubted I could possibly pass it again--so I put it off, for six months...

My daughter, who also needed to transfer her driver's license, had torn up her marriage license--as her marriage is something she'd rather forget ever happened. So once again, ordering the document online and waiting weeks to get it in the mail. *sigh*

I passed the written test first time out (YAY!) and I had my birth certificate locked away in my fire-proof box for many years. So imagine my dismay when I presented my birth certificate at the License Branch and was told it was not a "Certified Copy" and I would need to send for a new one. Several weeks and $37 later, I received my 'Official' Birth Certificate only to discover that I have been spelling my name incorrectly for the past 50+ years.

Of course, I will have to take the certificate to a Notary, fill out the back of the certificate with the spelling of my name corrected, re-submit it to the state I was born in, and probably wait several weeks to recieve it in the mail--so I can take it back to the license branch so I can get my new driver's license. All because ONE LETTER is missing from my first name! Some slouch waaay back in the 1950's apparently wasn't careful when they registered my birth with the state. (Back in those days, the hospital took care of that). AI YI YI!!

My Mom was a Mouseketeer fan, and just adored Annette Funicello...so much so that that's what she named me.... "Annette". My birth certificate has my legal name as "Anette". It doesn't even look right...not to me anyways. And since I use the nickname "Annie" how goofy it would be to write "Anie" instead? LOL

Now why can't the License Branch just overlook the missing "n" and just give me my damn driver's license??? The answer? Because that would be too easy, and Lord knows any government office is not out to make anything easy for anyone!

Which brings me back to my loathing of change. It's just one of those things in life I'd rather not deal with, and with good reason!

*HUGS* from your "Grani Anie" LMAO!

*GASP* Religion...

I was recently asked by a friend what my religious point of view was since I came so close to "meeting my maker" so to speak when I was hospitalized in June. I'm not really comfortable discussing religion with most folks as they are often proud and staunch believers in whatever religion they may be, and really don't care to hear other viewpoints.

I started my religious quest when I was still a kid, attending church services with my friends' families in my neighborhood. Living in NJ, there was a mixed bag of religions as you would have with any state that is a true melting pot. I attended many services which included Baptist church with the girls down the street, Catholic Mass with my best friend Kai, Pentecostal Church with my friend Janet from school, Buddhist services with Edna and her mom, who was Japanese. That's just a few.

As kids we walked the neighborhood, or rode our bikes--anything to stay away from home during the daylight hours. (You only stayed home if you were sick or a big dork and enjoyed your parents' company.)

We had a Temple near my home, and I used to drop by every now and then just to ask the Rabbi meaning-of-life questions and do the same with other churches within walking distance. I know, I was a weird kid. The Rabbi was kind and very tolerant of inquisitiveness and he was a wealth of valuable information. The nuns at Corpus Christi wouldn't let me near any of the priests, but would sit with me and answer my questions. One pastor told me I was asking too many questions, and that I needed to stop asking and just have faith. Another pastor told me that God was pleased with people like me who searched for the truth.

I frequented the local library, and read tons of books on religion...even pagan religions and wicca, which totally blew my mind when I first viewed "skyclad" (naked) witches celebrating a Sabbat. Then I got caught up in offshoot subjects such as the paranormal, in which Hans Holtzer books of photographed ectoplasm left me having nightmares! But I digress.....

I made it a point to study all forms of Christianity, Judaism, Eastern Religions (Buddism, Taoism, Hinduism)...learning the basics, learning prayers in the native language, and absorbing the customs. I envisioned myself as enlightened, or I was the Singing Nun, or Bernadette Soubirous (yeah, TV was a big influence on me as well) LOL I spent more than ten years as an adult studying the bible formally, and taking weekly classes, and I was very active my my local church. As a kid, I had been baptized on more than 6 occasions--as I never really felt "clean".

Don't worry, there is a point to all this...I promise!

In my blog while I was sick, I stated that I had no religion to comfort me and I was scared. No, I didn't profess any faith in religion just because I was facing death...though many folks do. I couldn't pretend to believe in something I could not. My personal connection with my religion started to fail me back in the early 1990's. I won't get into that as it's a long story.

The point is.... after all my searching, reading, studying and experiences I have come to the conclusion. Every religion has value/merit... (except Satanism--which I just don't get at all), they all have the same basic requirements of good works/faith. I don't like it when people profess that their religion is the "correct" religion and all others are false. Not true! (and how arrogant!!) It's a crappy thing to piss on someone else's religion, period.

In my opinion, all religions are different paths that lead to the same place/goals. They offer guidance, comfort, and a feeling that someone larger than ourselves has control over events that we are powerless in. Religion is a very personal thing, and if a person finds comfort/wisdom and faith in whatever religion they might be, I think it's great. It's just that I don't think it's right for anyone to try to shove their religious point of view on anyone--it is disrespectful if you push the issue after someone declines interest. That being said, I'd like to offer one more nugget for you deep thinkers out there:

If I'm wrong, and there is a God out there...then it is He who created me, and it is He who knows me inside and out. I'm not going to fool Him by professing faith I don't have-- (that would make me a liar). If He exists, He already knows my point of view so it's no surprise to Him whatsoever. And if He exists, He will love me and accept me and I will be pleasantly surprised. I'm not intersted in debating this subject, nor am I going to defend my point of view against any hard-core zealots.

Until my dying day arrives, I will continue to do my best not to offend anyone because of their beliefs, to do good deeds, be kind and understanding, give love freely to those who cross my path and generally try to be a good person. I admire people who have a great deal of faith in whatever religion they may be....but please don't piss on me cause I may not agree with you.

HAPPY SUNDAY EVERYONE!

*HUGS AND SMOOCHIES*

~Granni

Patience (oy!)

As usual, life has its ups and downs...and I have been spending the last three weeks recovering from my recent illness.

Let me tell you up front, I'm not one for lying about the house doing nothing, it drives me batty! Waiting for others to do the things you used to (and biting your tongue when they don't do it your way) is not one of my favorite things to do. I'm from the old school of thought that says, "if you want it done right, do it yourself". Yet I have been forced to sit back and allow my daughters to take over running the household.

I must say, they've done an excellent job with the cleaning, cooking and other tasks that used to fill my day. But there are some things I'd rather do myself. Folding my own laundry and putting it away is one of them. I don't have much dresser space, so I military roll my clothes so they fit neatly in the drawers...my daughters think I just go too far with that stuff! LOL

I'm getting around much better, but I still have some off days where I have to back off and not do much at all. Its frustrating to not be able to shower when I want to, or cook dinner the way I like. Some days I can actually walk to the mailbox and get the paper/mail...while other days I have to let someone else to do it. Last week, my grandsons ran to get the Sunday Paper, so excited to help their grandma out. The four year old began snatching the paper section by section while the nine year old stood there supervising his technique. Needless to say, by the time the paper reached the porch, it was a collection of wadded up balls, and nearly impossible to straighten out and read. But--they were helping, which meant alot to me.

My favorite boys (which is what I call them) so eager to help out , you just gotta let them do it even if they screw it up. This made me think about the efforts of my daughters, trying to run the house and let me recover. They're so eager to help their old mom out, I figure the least I can do is not notice when they do things differently than I would. It means alot to me that I have daughters who don't complain about things like this--they just do what needs to be done.

I know a few kids of their generation (kids born in the early 80's) who would be at a loss as to how to wash a dish, turn on the stove or do some food shopping. Not only would they be lost, they would bitch and moan about it as well! I'm lucky to have my girls, each one has their own particular knack for certain things, so between the two of them, just about everything is covered.

I thought by the time I reached my age, there would be fewer lessons I would be learning, since I was a stubborn ass most of my life and learned almost all my lessons the hard way. But I'm finding now with my recovery, I am still needing to learn the lesson of patience. That, and not to be so persnickity about things. Nobody's gonna die if the shirts are folded to the left than to the right, and okay, the noodles for dinner required a bit more chewing than I would've liked. Who cares? We have a roof over our heads, food on the table (cause there were many times we didn't!), and I am one lucky granny to have both my daughters and my grandsons living with me, loving me, and taking care of not only me, but each other.

I'm no lover of the lesson of patience, believe me. Patience is only acquired by being tested to the limit and paying close attention to how you responsd to them. The trials and tribulations of life , those things that just get under your skin to the point of madness.

I'm paying attention now, albeit because I really have no other choice~but nonetheless I'm learning to be patient. With my family, it is easier to be patient...it's much harder to be patient with myself.

I hope everyone had a safe and happy 4th of July weekend!

With Hugs and Kisses,
Granni

Storms and Other Things

I forgot to update the status on our little baby robin that I was taking care of. Poor little Eggy passed away the day before I went in the hospital. I had her three weeks, and she seemed to be doing quite well, then she started to refuse to eat and drink except for a very small amount. On May 31st, I woke up early in the morning to feed her and she was dead on the bottom of the cage. *sigh* Poor little girl.

Since moving to central Indiana this past April, we have had the daylights scared out of us by some vicious storms on a regular basis. We had some terrific storms in Tennessee as well, but these storms here are by far the worst and most consistent I have ever seen in my entire life! Lightning is wild and crazy, and with the land area being very flat, you can see it coming from miles away. Across the road from us is a large farm area, and when the storms are rolling in, it looks like a scene from the movie "Twister".

Two nights ago we had storms come through with 60 MPH winds, sideways rain and violent lightning. The next morning, my daughter finds a baby bird at the base of one of our 150 foot cottonwood trees (we have several). The mother was still hanging around, so I told my daughter to leave the baby bird alone. I try not to interfere with nature too much, if the mom's there, she will continue to feed the baby.

Yesterday, my daughter check on this little birdie, and it's laying on its side, completely featherless and barely making a chirp. My daughter looks at me with this pitiful look and says "Please, Mom..." with begging in her eyes. How could I say no?

She scooped up the little one and ran it to me. Poor little thing was cold, shivering and very weak. I didn't think it would make it another hour, to be honest. So I jump into my rescue mode and start making the concoction of bird gruel to try to get this baby back on track. Wrapping that baby up in a light washcloth, I held it in my hands to warm it while I force-fed it a few little bites of food. When I figure out how to post photos on this thing here, I'll post one of this baby and maybe someone can help me identify what kind of bird it is. It's a BIG baby, with a real wide beak that makes it look like its smiling....the mouth actually bigger than the baby's whole head!

We haven't named this baby bird yet...as I am still holding out to see whether or not it survives, but today it is strong, and opening its mouth to be fed with vigor! I'm very happy it's doing better.

My follow-up visit at the doctor revealed that I had a DVT while I was sick, and that was part of my breathing problem. I had not heard this from any of the hospital personnel, but my primary care physician filled me in. A DVT is short for deep vein thrombosis ie: blood clot that can travel through your body to your brain (which would cause a stroke) , to your heart (causing a heart attack), or to your lungs ( causing a pulmonary embolus). Let's just say that this new information was quite sobering, to say the least.

I'm recovering quicker than what the doctor expected, which was surprising to hear, because it's not been quick enough for me. I'm used to bouncing back faster than this, but he promised me that I'm doing 'fabulous'.

So there you have it for today, kids! With Lots of Love, Granni XOXOX

Mother Nature and Other Things

Leave it to my dear friend, 4030lisa to put things in a way to not only make me smile, but think as well. (see comments on last Blog Post)

You are absolutely correct about Mother Nature and her little (or not so little) life lessons. That old broad has got more tricks than I do, and seeing as I am a master of avoidant behavior.... (the Queen-Head-In-The-Sand) I have been a bit ticked off at her keeping me on such a short leash.

I wanted a cigarette so bad, I thought about telling old Mother Nature to blow it out her ass! This thought was amusing to me as I visualized myself lighting up one of my Misty 120's Menthols and blowing that smoke right in her face! Take THAT you old bird! hee hee

Then, of course my imaginings took on a life of their own and before I knew it, Mother Nature was staring me down through narrowed eyes and saying, "Ahem, you little termite... I could blow YOU out of my ass and call it a day!" Followed by some under breath comments about my basic ingratitude, and being childish and a brat. Somehow, picturing myself being blown out of Mother Nature's ass carries no appeal for me whatsoever, and you know I'd come out looking bad in the whole deal.

Today I go for my post-hospital check up to see if I will continue on course, or if I need a bit more tweaking... (maybe an oil change?)

To sum it up, I have always resented life's little intrusions on what I felt was my right to live my life as I chose to. I never appreciated reality tapping me on the shoulder when I was dancing my heart out in the clouds somewhere...(and I was always dancing in the clouds somwhere)!

I guess this snarky old bag has met her match. I need to face reality and accept my role in my own health or I am doomed to repeat this same mistake over and over until it literally kills me. Who the hell wants that??? Time for me to suck it up and quit my bitching, at least on this subject.

I do want to PUBLICLY THANK my dear friend, @jinnandtonics from Twitter, who sent me a gorgeous basket of flowers in the hospital (and they're still quite lovely today) and signed the card from all of you..... "The Gang" Melissa, Jill, Nick, Teri, Lisa, FizzyDuck, SantaDearest and "the rest". I'd get on the SS Minnow anyday with you all for a three hour tour even if we ended up as castaways! How you guys managed to find me, I will never know...but it sure meant alot to me at the time, and will always bring me to tears to think of the day I got flowers from my twitter friends! That was unbelievably awesome!

Hugs and Lots of Granni Kisses!!! XOXOXOXOX

Untitled Progress Report

I promised to keep you all posted on my progress, and since my word is pretty much all I'm good for any more, I'm here to fill you all in. I've tried several times to sit down here and do this since I got out of the hospital, but everything I wrote sounded like an old person complaining about bunions or lumbego.

I still have not smoked.....which is amazing! I'm thrilled, though I cannot boast of having a strong will....if my breathing was back to normal, I would've been smoking again already. So it's not a case of steel fortitude, it's simply a case of I CANNOT ! Nevertheless, I'm pleased....and being pleased with one's self is truly a wonderful thing these days.

My few days home have been funny...The house looks different, the grandkids look different. I look different. I'm covered pretty much from head to toe with black and purple bruises from shots, IV's and being manhandled.

The Pulmonary Physician that treated me in the hospital did a good job, lucky for me. Because he resembled Paul Williams in that iconic leprechaun sort of way and looked at me sheepishly about my smoking habit, all the while trying to hide the trach-port in his own throat. Doctor and patient, each aware of the other's weakness, and floating in the same boat. I don't know if he was ever fully aware of the irony, but I sure was.

This same doctor sent me home with a laundry list of medications, many of them new...and this was funny in itself. I have been diabetic for maybe 4 or 5 years, but never needed insulin. Now with huge mega-doses of corticosteroids, I find I now supposedly need insulin. That would be fine, but I have no way to test my glucose, and the doc wrote me a script for the needles, but not the insulin to go with it....LOLOLOL!! So here I have a box of 100 syringes...but nothing to put in them. This is one of the funny things that happen to me in my life that people sometimes swear I just make up as I go along! (honest! I don't!)

Doc also sent me home with a new blood pressure pill that needed "prior authorization". He instructed me to to let his office know if the pharmacy wouldn't fill it, which I promptly did. His staff tells me they can't fix this issue, because the doctor handles my lungs, not my heart...so I was out of luck....and I'm dumbfounded with the phone in my hand and my jaw hanging open...okaaaay...... and I now know I got discharged before I was ready because Medicare decided it was time for me to go. I am truly lucky to be alive.

Life on high doses of steroids really stinks...cause I want to eat everything in sight...but the wonderful thing about it is, everything you eat tastes fantastic!! Too bad I didn't discover the secret to oral fixation while I was still married....maybe the divorce would not have been necessary!

So, there you have it, my irreverent view on things in general. Life is quite literally what you make it, or should I say that life takes on its true meaning by how we respond to it, rather than what we try to fool others into believing about us...which is a silly waste of time.

As a dear friend of mine blogged recently...don't waste your time in envy or jealousy over what you wish you had. I don't need big boobs, lucious lips or even an active sex life anymore. I'm comfortable being me, and I'm embracing myself with both hands without apology. Gimme a jelly donut and a soft chair and I'll be happy as a clam.

Life is good, kids. And those little sucky moments along the way are just little reminders to pay attention...that you're getting too comfortable, that you're not appreciating the bigger picture. Come on now, you wouldn't think twice about your butt unless you had an occasional hemorroid to remind you that sitting can be a pleasure or a curse depending on what your current situation may be.

I miss you all very much, but I'm trying to be good and take care of myself...(besides I've been watching the Trueblood Marathons at night....). I know you all are still not quite sure how to take me yet, but it's just me...

Love and Hugs to you ALL!!! XXXXX

Home Again Home Again Jiggedy Jig

I have been released from the hopsital this evening and so I am now at home scared out of my wits! I'm supposed to take care of myself now, give myself insulin and not walk too much. I have an oxygen tank that I either completely drained, or shut off...I don't really know for sure. BUt All this is rather hysterical for me because when I comes down to it, if it's associated with me, some how, some way....it's gonna be screwed up. LOLOL!

I'M ALIVE, and that's the good news and when I get myself on an even keel, I'll fill you wonderful people in on the power of Twitter Friendship, give you all big wet hugs and kisses and tell you all how much you mean to me!!

It's a miracle that I still exist, and a testament to my tweet-pals relationship with the ALmighty, I'm sure. My doctor said he had no other reason to explain that I did not die. I HAVE NOT SMOKED! (YAY!) BUt when I arrived by ambulance a week ago, I was in full respiratory failure.

I'm okay, just trying to get over that the offensive smell in my house is actually ME......(PEE-UU) and my daughter will help me get washed up and slathered in deodorant (or at least take pity on me and put a stick-up on my forehead).

You all are precious, wonderful people! And I will update you on everything as soon as I can!

*HUGS AND KISSES* ANNIE XOXOXOXOX