Today was 'Mud' day at *Tad's (little boy I babysit, *name changed) house.  He's made mud before while at the park with his parents.  But today he got to make it at his house, in his own back yard with me.  He got to carry it around, stir it, drip it, squish it, mush it and smear it - he wore it well.  We had a blast.  I love watching children of this stage - toddler, so full of wonder, learning to problem solve and excited about everything.  So innocent, so unworried, so un-marred.  He's also learning to be sneaky to have a whack at the forbidden.  Bummer for him is he's sooooo obvious.  His eyes give him away every time.  Tomorrow is 'Color' day.  His mother brought us big crayons for color play inside and sidewalk chalk for color play outside - I've got MY 'toddler' on, I think I may be more excited than him!

Gotta share this - Ginger, pulled an act of jealousy with her cohort Buntah.  Piper and I were laying on my bed, me at the head, she was at the foot.  Buntah was resting on her chest with a hand on her chin.  Ginger was laying on a pillow beside me.  She sat there and watched Piper and Buntah for a few minutes then got up, walked to foot of the bed where Piper was laying, turned and sat right down on her face!  Piper didn't share my sense of humor.  I thought it was hilarious.  She did not.  On a sadder note, I think my baby - Ginger - may be heading down the 'cognitive degeneration' road.  It breaks my heart.  She's been with us over 14 years.  She is my dearest friend, we are connected in a way I can't find words for.  We understand each other, she and I.  She has never let me down.  I wish I could say the same for myself.  Too many times I've seen her sad face when I've left and had to leave her behind.  I cannot imagine a world without her.  Don't want to imagine a world without her.  I've survived some really tough times but I don't know how I can possibly survive losing her.

A New Comer joined our water aerobics class last night.  My friend took it upon herself to manage introductions.  When she got to me she said, “This is Darcy.  And Darcy is TROUBLE.”  I got raised eyebrows from the Newbie, then a polite but wary smile.  I could tell he didn’t know whether to embrace trouble or run from it.  Either way was fine with me.  It’s nice at my age, and now gimpy and all, to be feisty enough to be warned about. I was flattered. 

Outwardly, my mother would have been embarrassed to have any of her children esteemed as trouble.  I suspect, however, in the most secret space in her heart, my mother would have wrung her hands and giggled with glee to be referred to as trouble herself.  She wanted to be a drummer in her high school band at a time when drums weren’t an acceptable instrument for a girl.  She played the clarinet instead and learned the trumpet and piano on the side.  She jumped out of an airplane and played more football and basketball with her sons than their father.  She was a deadly ping pong player. She wasn’t just a sweet, sympathetic face at the other end of the table, she was a serious competitor and I always got slammed.  I loved her enthusiasm for play.  I think she longed for adventure.  What she got was seven children.

In her later years, she got tired of waiting for her spouse to get some get up and go, and she got up and went by herself – bless her!  She pursued passions and travel interests.  She climbed pyramids in Egypt and rode camels, bartered for goods in street bazaars.  She visited mosques and learned a second language.  She saw England and New York.  She went back to school and became a nurse.  She took drawing and painting classes.  At a time when the vast majority of my peers had stay at home Moms, my mother was the most intriguing Mom around.

They say the apple doesn’t fall from the tree.  I sincerely hope that’s the case.  If there’s trouble in Heaven, Mom, I hope you find it!

The only thing worse than a power struggle with a kid is a power struggle with a dog! Correction – Fur Baby.  Last Monday Ginger had to start a new medication.  It upset her stomach and she vomited – EVERYTHING. This went on for two days, lots and lots of vomit.  Vet said to stop the medication.  Great, no more meds.  But now she won’t eat.  Rephrase - she won’t eat her food.  She will eat people food and treats all day long if I let her but I can’t. Ginger requires a special diet.  I’ve been round, and round, and round with her for six days trying everything I could think of to get her to eat her own food.  It was and still is “Picky Eater vs. Concerned Mom.”  So far Picky Eater has maintained impressive steadfastness.  Concerned Mom on the other hand is showing signs of extreme wear and tear – mostly to her supply of patience.  What can I do? I can’t put her in time out.  I can’t take away her privileges.  I can’t send her to her room.  There is NOOOOO reasoning with her.  And so far no measure of cunning and trickery has been effective against her stubborn resolve.  Grrrrrr . . . . . . . !!!

In other news, Piper and I saw The Hunger Games over the weekend.  For once I liked the movie adaptation better than the book.  I’ve read all three books and found them to be graphic and somewhat disturbing.  The movie is rated PG13 and as such, the bloodshed is kept to a minimum.  Kudos to the producers!  I felt the movie was well done.  I would watch it again.

I don't know exactly what a 'kilter' is and I'm too tired to look it up, but whatever it is I'm off mine.  Lack of sleep tends to knock me sideways.  Two nights ago, Ginger suddenly became very ill.  Pip and I knocked our brains about trying to figure out why.  We were coming up with nothing logical so we began a search of the house. Last room, my bedroom, had an EMPTY candy wrapper on the floor.  Earlier in the day the wrapper had contained a good size chunk of very dark chocolate.  It had also been on top of a small entertainment center. I showed it to Ginger.  She dropped her head and tucked her tail.  Crap!  Chocolate and doggies are a bad mix, fatal even depending on how much chocolate and what kind is consumed. Dark chocolate being the most toxic and deadly.  The chunk she'd gotten was 80 proof!  Full scale Mommy Red Alert!  Called doggie ER right away (if I'd had a car I would have simply taken her in).  Ginger's weight, the amount of chocolate and the potency of the proof was calculated against each other.  She was within the "Most likely just get really sick" range.  The doctor I talked to told me what to watch for, what her heart rate should be etc. and said to monitor her for the next 24 to 48 hours.  At that point, she could get worse or level out. No need to induce vomiting since Ginger was doing that on her own.  Besides it was too late anyway, it had been hours since the little sneak snaked the chocolate, it was already absorbed into her bloodstream.  So . . .  I watched her.  Literally.  Every breath, every heart beat with frequent nose temp checks all through the night and into the next day.  There's nothing like a good life or death scare to rattle me from top to bottom and edge to edge.  I'm happy to say that today she is much, much better. But still it undid me.

On another front, I've had two Acupuncture sessions in the last week from a sweet Dr. of Chinese Medicine.  After our first session, I asked him how my body/energy flow was.  In his Chinese accent he said, "You too much stress".  I knew that already.  When I told my son, he said he could have told me that and it wouldn't have cost me a penny.  The good doctor was AWESOME, the treatment was really cool on several levels. If anything is helpful in degenerating the problem in my foot, it will be this.  We'll see.  A couple more sessions and we should have a better idea of how effective this will be in getting rid of the problem.  In the meantime, Dr. Needles (that's what I call him, can't pronounce his name) says, "You NO stress!"  Hmmmmmm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . nice thought in theory, a little more difficult to pull off.  Think I'll go take a nap.

How tough can this be(?), I thought, after being handed my first cane.  I mean, with only two hands, you only have two options right?  So I did what I frequently do when something appears easy - I forge ahead with a full head of 'overconfidence' steam.  I've been struggling for five days now, thought I was getting it but still didn't quite have the rhythm. Today, I came across an article on the Internet,"How To Use A Cane".  I read it.  Apparently I've been doing it wrong.  I have been enlightened - by actually reading directions. Go figure!

Why do I do this?  Whyyyy do I look at something, think to myself, oh this is easy, or, this should be easy and just dive right into it? I had this conversation with a dear friend a couple of days ago.  We were discussing how greatly varied personalities can be across a broad spectrum gathering of people.  There are people who follow rules and guidelines, read directions, and, actually follow recipes without a teensy bit of deviation!  My spirit simply reels at the thought!  Although it may not actually be true, these same rules and guideline followers seem to have flawless, smooth running lives. My life has been neither smooth running, or flawless. (But I make killer frosting!) Sure, if something appears complicated from the get go, then I will read directions first. Maybe I just don't want to waste time. I want to get right down to GO - not get ready TO go.  Frequently, I am required by a result of my own impatience, to back track.I am an experienced back-tracker.  Which takes the same amount of time I might have saved in the first place, if not more.

As I was walking Ginger this evening, lamenting this particular bur in my personality, a thought occurred to me.  This is all like bedding. Those folks who do things supposedly "right" from the beginning and have seemingly flawless lives, are like down comforters - just the right temperature all the time and all one color.  My life has had so many remakes. Chunks of different colors here and there, even messy patterns. I'm not a down comforter. I'm a quilt. I have always preferred variety and texture.  Know what, I'm good with that - even if I have severe culinary disasters from time to time.

Ginger and I need to work on our walking-together-with-me-on-a-cane skills.  First time out was quite a fiasco.  Ginger is what I’d call an “energetic walker” pre-disposed to frequent and random bouts of uncontrollable curiosity.  She never learned to heel because I never forced the issue.  I always figured it was her walk so why not let her enjoy it?  Mostly I’ve been along for the ride – and to pick up poop.  Her pattern has always been NO pattern.  With Ginger its’ always been Zig here, zag there, oh wait a minute I might’ve missed something back there, Hey what IS that over there?  Which wasn’t a problem as long as I was fully ambulatory.  The cane impedes my reaction time, as well as my off road capabilities. It’s a big bummer for both of us.  Not to mention dangerous.  She had me tied in knots more than once.  Figuring out which hand to hold the poop bags in was tricky, but not as tricky as trying to figure out how to hold onto her leash, the cane and still pick a deposit when I only have two hands.

Wal-Mart was a new experience too.  I figured I could use the cane with one hand and push the cart with the other.  Which is not a bad idea in theory.  The reality is, at some point the cart get’s too heavy to push with one hand.  Then what?  Pull?  OK, give that a try.  The problem with that is, in order to keep the cart - which is in long haul mode, from knocking stuff over on the back end, you have to turn back and keep an eye on it.  If you’re turned, looking behind you, you’re not watching in FRONT of you.  You might be surprised how many people and displays you can run into when you’re not looking straight ahead.  I was.  I was a moving train wreck.  And people stared.  Well, some people stared.  Some didn’t even notice there was a novice cane driver amongst them – until I bashed into them.  By the time I left, I was exhausted and humiliated.  How do people do this?  I saw one gray haired gentleman, leaning on his cane, standing in front of an end cap while his wife scurried around with a cart.  I’m going to have to figure out a better system.  I mean think about it, if you are using a cane with one hand to help you walk, you’re pretty much one handed.  You can’t gather ‘just a few things’.  One hand will only hold one thing.  If you’re looking for clothes, you can’t gather with one hand and hang options over the other arm.  You can’t push, or pull, a cart with any finesse or effectiveness.  Navigating a cart in tight spaces with one hand is impossible, even completing the payment transaction is a challenge.  It’s hard to manage the contents of a wallet with one hand.  What a blessing it is to have the full use of both arms and legs.

Western medicine says my condition is untreatable.  After much research, I have made a few small adjustments to my supplement intake and I start Acupuncture on Friday.  I’m scared of needles and I don’t like pain.  Maybe I’m in denial, but I’m not willing to accept ‘untreatable’.  There’s too much at stake.

On a good note; my small patio size orange tree is covered with little white blossoms.  Where the blossoms have peaked, dried, then fallen off, there are tiny baby oranges in their place!  We have baby oranges!  And we have Buntah to thank.  We’ve been dumping her ‘used/soiled’ water in it every day for months now.   I’m pretty excited.

In the news today;

                In Japan, a lone, juvenile penguin scaled the outermost wall of his confine, managed to get through a hole in the perimeter fencing and has escaped into the wild.  Locals fear the water he could be hanging out in is too dirty for survival.  Citizens and authorities alike are armed with binoculars and are on the look out for the escapee.

                A group of prominent astronomers have concluded, after years of research and calculating, that a highly unusual alignment of the sun, moon and our planet was most likely the reason there were larger than average icebergs in the pathway of the Titanic, thus becoming a contributing factor in its sinking.  Hmmm.  Maybe but so? By my thinking, the captain was warned and should have been more vigilant.  Doesn’t change my thoughts on the matter.

                In coastal Brazil, beach goers were in the right place at the right time.  Someone videotaped an approaching dolphin pod and continued to film as the entire pod beached itself.  Camera still rolling as people waded into the water and helped them back into the deep and on their way again.  Not only were these people in the right place at the right time, but it seems to me they were in the right heart space.  Yeah all of you!!

Finally, an explanation for the pain I've been in. Doctor called yesterday to report on the X-rays we did last week.  Calcification of the soft tissues - muscles/tendons - of the left heel.  The only way to remove it would be removing the soft tissues - leaving me unable to walk.  There is no other treatment she says.  Also - says the Internet. A cortisone shot won't make it go away, but it may reduce some of the inflammation.  However, my insurance doesn't cover such nonsense.  "So, what you're trying NOT to say to me," I said to my doctor, "is that I'm done playing racquetball.  No more running, no more hiking, no more playing frisbee barefoot in the grass, no more dancing or fencing or wearing girl shoes?"  Silence.  Then finally,  "Yes, that's what I'm trying not to say.  I'm really sorry Darcy."  Once off the phone I cried.  Next, I went to the internet to find out more about this thing called calcification, hoping with all hope, she could be wrong.  So far every site I've studied says - she's right.   I explained this to a girlfriend who took me to the grocery yesterday.  I know she was only trying to be helpful, "I know where we can get you a walker with a seat," she said in a try to 'cheer me up' tone.  "A WALKER?!  A WALKER?!!! I'M NOT DONE!  I DON'T WANT A WALKER!!"  I cried some more, right there in the parking lot.  Maybe I'm in denial, but now I'm looking for acupuncture, VooDoo - anything non-traditional that will make this go away.

Ok, so today, I am considering a cane to help save my right leg.  But it has to be a kick-ass cane.  Nothing boring, nothing plain.  Can't have flames - "House" has flames on his cane.  I wonder if it's possible to play frisbee with a cane?  And any kid who cries, "Unfair advantage" will get walloped - probably with the cane!  Still on the bummer side, I had to call and quit one of my jobs, just can't be on my feet long enough to do the work. Tough call to make, I've been with these folks for nearly three years, through cancers, surgeries, illnesses even death.  They're like family to me and the only thing close to family I have here.  I did break down after that call. Finally had to go for some comfort food - a nice, lovely, creamy, zippy Pepsi float with Moose Tracks ice cream - mmmmmmm . . . . . . . . . . . . . Anyone have any ideas or suggestions to fix this problem?

The weather was absolutely beautiful today, warm, sunny, flowers blooming everywhere.  The kind of day that makes me want to run outside and play.  Uggggghhhhhh, maybe I better call it quits for this post.  Anyone know where I can get a kick-ass cane?