A few weeks back I took a nap. I was in my car. The car was in my open garage.
I woke to a noise but did not look. I was comfortable. The car was locked. I wasn’t moving.
There was news of a bear prowling around the neighborhood. The bear had made the noise.
The next week I could not find my hedge trimmers. There were multiple reports of stealing out of unlocked cars. There were reports of items disappearing from porches.
My policy for lost items is that they will come back to me eventually. The lost item suddenly appears. It may take an hour. It may take a month.
Three weeks later I could not find my trimmer. My plants are overgrown. Maybe the neighborhood thief took the trimmer.
I spent a week thinking ‘the guy’ took the trimmer. The noise was from him. It was not from the bear.
Guess what I just found.
Instead of going through the stages of grief I read about in school, it seems many diagnosed with Lyme disease traverse a different path.
Each path is unique but may look a little like:
- I know something is wrong, why haven’t the 5-30 doctors I have seen been able to find something.
- I might have what? Never heard much about that.
- Research: Cure Unknown, Under Our Skin, Dr. Google, Facebook, Beginner’s Guide to Lyme Disease, Why Can’t I Get Better?
- Antibiotics, maybe IVs
- 20 different supplements
- Diet-no sugar, no gluten, no dairy, non-GMO, organic, unless I cheat.
- Outrage, petitions, t-shirts, protests
- Homeopathic, ayurvedic, herbs, oils
- Biomat, sauna, Epsom baths, EMF tents, coffee????
- Sigh, maybe no more Dr. Google
What would you add?
Where has your Seneca Scourge been?
She wore a delicately cute outfit, what there was of it. Sitting coolly, smoking one last cigarette before her flight, she stared out at the dark void of the early morning. Her perfume wafting to passerbys lending to the sensory barrage of sounds, smells and activity of the security zone. Bleached hair and an unnaturally even tan, revealed her older than her long legs and shoulders spilling from her halter jumpsuit would have implied.
Are you tired of fighting of fighting for machines at the gym?
Is it too hot to go outside?
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This is a picture of a painting I am about half done with. I do not paint very often and do it for entertainment purposes only. There seems to always be two critical moments during the painting process (and any other creative endeavor). 1) The moment when I have to make a big decision and commit to a direction. Like one of those books I loved when I was a kid. “…if you want to go into the cave turn to page 112.” There is a 50/50 chance that cave will be your doom.
2) The second moment is deciding which brushstroke is the last. I usually keep going too long. Often, in an effort to fix moment “1”.
This photo is at stage one. I now realize that the painting looks better in black and white. Maybe that is my painting style: bad technique and use of color fixed with photoshop! 8)
p.s. Be a part of the biggest comeback in history and vote for my photo (or any of the awesome photos in the contest). //www.bucketlistpublications.com/portfolio-view/travel-photo-contest-14/
Photo credit: Original, non-bursting bubble pic found here.