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Letters to the MonSter: One of those days


                                                     

                                                       

"It's one of those days? What can I do to make it a bit better?" 

"Yes, it is one of those days. I would really appreciate it if you would carry my coffee cup for me."

Do you ever yearn to hear this conversation? Especially on one of those days? 

This morning I am dragging my right foot behind me and the tremors are in full force. It's GAME day in Mountaineer country and WVU is allowing season ticket holders to occupy their seats at Miland Puskar Stadium. Although I no longer attend these beloved events, my husband is die-hard and anxious to hit the road. It is a noon game and I don't want to send him off with an empty stomach, but breakfast consists of two pieces of toast and some sad looking bacon. My hands are not cooperating and I had trouble with the frying utensils. 

In my mind and in my heart I know that he would gladly help instead of fetching the newspaper and waiting to be served. But...I don't know how to ask. If I round up the courage to form the words I know the tears will follow. Pity parties are not new to me, but I hold them in private. Why? 'Cause I've learned that not many people want to attend; nor is their presence helpful.

So, I offer this sub-par breakfast (I couldn't trust myself to spend more time near open gas-flames.) and retreat to my corner chair in the living room. I actually made it there without spilling a drop of coffee! 

The tremors are subsiding some but my right arm is weak and I'm typing slowly and deliberately like those early days in high school tying class. That's no longer a thing! Can you believe it or am I talking to the keyboard generation? 

Don't get me started on the public school curriculum. As a retired secondary teacher, I've witnessed the demise of several essential courses: typing, home economics, shop class, and civics, to name a few. Some districts have even erased the art of cursive writing. These disciplines are viewed as archaic, I guess. It's sad when progress includes abolishing past successes.

 I'm rambling but that's okay since I'm feeling calmer now. 

Have a great weekend. Let's go, Mountaineers! Have a safe Halloween. Thank you for wearing a mask.  

NaNoWriMo is hours away, so I'd better sharpen my pencils in case my typing fingers lock up. I've learned how to "club" my hand around a writing utensil as one of those adaptations to multiple sclerosis. 

Do you have any particular tricks to accommodate -related weaknesses?

Okay, I'm done. I've got ballgames to watch, words to write and a cat to pet.

Lisa, Lady with the Cane

P.S. I turned on m furnace this morning.


Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts. ― Winston S. Churchill






                                                                               

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