Nesting

I’ve spent a lot of time in my apartment lately and when I think the walls are beginning to close in, I go outside. Today the temperature was a brisk fifty. I rushed my dialysis garbage down to the dumpsters in a black cart. When I first decided to go from Boulder city living to the outskirts of Henderson and from the bottom apartment to the third floor, a friend advised me to cart.

“You’ll need it for everything,” he said. Up until then I had been able to easily carry a box or two. Now I don’t know what I would do without one of these marvels. It has taken me three or more surgeries to bless the friend because he was right. At pushing sixty, I am not as strong as I was at 55.

At the beginning of the year, I have been pushing back disease for eighteen years. In that time, I’ve gain prednisone weight and I’ve lost it. I’m now about the weight I was during my late 30s and 40s before I dealt with disease. Dialysis gives me some energy, but I still collapse in the afternoon and sleep. If feels more like sleep than a nap. I wake up drowsy and wondering where I am. Sometimes I try to jump out of bed the way I used to do at 30. Of course, I realize my age when my feet hit the floor.

Even eating is an adventure. I need to eat protein, but I also have gout. After a couple of severe gout attacks, my doctor and I decided that I needed a medication to help with the uric acid. I can report that the pain is gone. I only feel a few aches in my feet, but that is so much better than the searing unspeakable pain.

The remarkable thing about dialysis is that I have had less illness. Really. I wouldn’t believe it. I started dialysis in May 2020 and I have had allergies once and no flu or pneumonia. Without dialysis I had severe allergies and at least one shot at flu or pneumonia every year.

Even I, who am isolated due to my immune problems, do not like to be isolated. This year I have been more isolated than ever. And I sadly see how it affects the seniors around me. They are less friendly, more unhealthy, and more frail than ever before. They aren’t dying of Covid, but of neglect. Many of them are showing heart failure. If a heart could break, it would be many of these seniors.

My dog has been there for me through this entire thing and especially through the surgeries. She cuddled against my legs and guarded my dreams. She is getting old too.

I am writing off and one. Just a little bit here and there. I’m finding that I write more and better when I first wake up.

I still have a FB page, but you can find me in other places.

cynsshadowland.locals.com @cynthia
Mewe @cynthiabagley
Minds.com @cynbagley
FB Cynthia Bagley

I’ll be putting poems and first chapters on cynsshadowland– second chapters and so forth will be behind a paywall.

The horror— Children’s Rhymes

dutch-615664_1280

From Pixabay

Ring around the Rosies
a pocket full of posies
ashes, ashes
we all fall down

This was our version of a children’s nursery rhyme that I played when I was in elementary school–in the 60s. The origin of this play rhyme dates back to at least 1665 or maybe even farther. Some scholars think it was a child’s rhyme about the Black Plague… and others have debunked it. But in this world of offended and re-offended people, if we look too closely we could turn this into a racist rant.

Here is what a Nicki from the Liberty Zone has to say about the colorful history that is making the rounds–starting with Eenie, Meenie, Minee, Moe– a child’s counting rhyme. So what is making the offended even more offended? It’s a “Walking Dead” T-shirt. Personally I don’t watch that show. I am terribly prejudiced against “zombies.” Especially the kind that like to catch and eat “brains.” So don’t start screeching because I am a zombie-hater.

What I am saying is that so many of these rhymes come from our distant past. Many of them have been re-purposed (a word or two changed) to make them more acceptable. I don’t have a problem with that– my ears are not as tender as some.

I do have a problem with eradicating our distant past. For instance, when mathematics were first introduced, it was for accounting. A person who could count above their fingers had a better chance of accurately knowing how much property they had. It was magical. You could say that the families who taught their children counting games had a leg up from other families.

I wonder sometimes how many of our children will be able to use their numbers if we do go into a dystopia world. How many of them could do the simple mathematics?

It does bother me when we throw the “baby out with the bathwater.”

I would rather see children playing circle games outside than be inside on the floor watching TV or playing video games.

Plus we do forget what it was like to be a child. Many of the rhymes I learned came from other children instead of the parents. We forget that children have a complete subculture that is hidden from adults.

So yea, let the children play with nursery rhymes and circle games. Let them describe their world from their eyes.

Warm days and cold hands

img_0584 Foxy, my black chihuahua terrier mix, sits with me on my overstuffed rocking chair with the front door open. She sits on my lap and stretches like a flat fur rug. I know she is starting to get older because white is appearing on her muzzle and eyebrows. When I first got her over two years ago, except for her chest, she was black all over.

She is also getting more cuddly and less active. But then, with the problems I’ve had the last few weeks, I am also getting slower.

We don’t see too many clouds except in the spring and fall in Las Vegas. So I watch the clouds curl and flow. In the higher atmosphere the I see lenticular clouds. It would be long that this storm which left us only a few drops will be on its way to Utah and Colorado. I think it stops here to dry off a little and warm up before the big show.

My sleep schedule has been interrupted by my symptoms. My usual sleep schedule is between 10 p.m. and 6 a.m. The prickling in my neck, plus the hot and cold sensations that seem to start at bedtime and keep me awake. I have been waking up at 4 hour intervals. So at 2 p.m. in the afternoon (sometimes earlier) I am so tired that I take a long nap. Needless to say these patterns make it hard for me to think and to write creatively.

Inside it feels like someone has put their foot on the pedal and is revving the engine.

So I am hoping that the sonogram biopsy will be the start to getting my engine to a low hum. This constant revving is tiring.

Now for a little promotion time.

Plus here is the first in the series, Hilda’s Inn for Retired Heroes:

Yule tide in Southern Nevada

CCO Public Doman from Pixabay

CCO Public Doman from Pixabay

This time last year, I was grieving for the loss of my late-hubby. As a unit, we didn’t celebrate the season. It had a lot to do with only the two of us in the house and how hard it is to keep secrets from each other. I remember buying a blue Norwegian sweater in Germany. When the late-hubby asked where I got it, I told him “Thank you for the Christmas present, honey.”

He found that funny. When he wanted something, usually tool or Amateur radio related, he would tell me that it was a great Christmas present. So our little joke was preserved.

This year without him and over a year away from losing him, I had the urge to decorate. Since I am short on cash and long on wants, I ended up getting a small tinsel tree and some lights at Wal-Mart. When I need some thinking time, I sit on my chair with my little dog on my lap, listen to the crackling of my Yule log DVD, and look at the lights. Even if our Christmas tradition was to avoid the holiday shoppers, I have found a new tradition of lights.

Listening to the crackle, feeling the warmth of the dog on my lap, and feeling the yarn and needles in my hands– for a moment I am at peace.

It has taken me months to realize what my late-hubby meant when his last words were “I want you to be happy.” He said this to his daughters and to me. It was the most important thing for him. I am of Norwegian Viking blood so I come naturally to the somberness of that breed of people who conquered the Northern wastes. I was even born south of the Arctic Circle.

I do love the sun, but I have that fair skin that burns easily. So my best seasons are spring and fall. Summer is the time I get to look out the window and lust after the sunseekers.

So happiness is something I have to work to gain. I meditate. I walk the dog. I am mindful of what I eat. I am learning –painfully sometimes– that joy is fleeting, but happiness and peace comes from balance.

Thank you for the success with Hilda’s Inn for Retired Mercenaries. When I saw the numbers rise and stay high, I felt joy.

May your holiday season bring you peace and happiness… and joy.

As requested Dog Park Art

This morning I was trying to get the good light for the Dog Park Art pics. I will have to admit that they are not the best pictures ever– I let my hubby do that type of thing. They are a good representation of it though.

panel-1

I would love to be this dog as he suns amidst the sunflowers

 

panel-2

panel-3

Hydrants and dogs go together

 

panel-4

Spring dreams

 

panel-5

Landlady’s Kennel Krew

 

 

panel-6

Night time in the Sierras

 

 

panel-7

Space communications wolf style

 

panel-8

Dogs love trees

 

It was our maintenance man who did this lovely job (THS).