Skip to main content

Lemonade out of lemons???

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.




Have you ever made lemonade from fresh lemons? I haven't but I've got to believe it's a lot of work. I mean first you have to buy a LOT of lemons. One recipe I found said that you'd need five pounds at an average cost of $2/lb means your lemons would set you back $10. I'm not a mathematician, as my friends, family and coworkers can attest, so I used a calculator so you can trust my math. And then you'll need 2 cups of sugar - at a cost of about $1.70 for 32 oz. that equates to (again, I used a calculator so you can trust my math) 85 cents for your pitcher of lemonade. So, for your pitcher of lemonade it would cost $10.85 (again,  the calculator was used). According to my research and the recipes I read, it will take approximately 15 minutes to make your pitcher, because you have to boil the water with the sugar, squeeze the lemons, remove the seeds, stir and I'm guessing sweat and swear at why the hell you're making fresh lemonade when for less than $2 and little effort you could be making it from fresh/frozen concentrate, and then finally chill the damn lemonade before you can drink it. And it better taste really good or ... or ... or ... {insert something really awful here}

So, I don't get the how turning lemons into lemonade is a good. I know that Dale Carnegie used the metaphor and many use it to this day. It seems arcane. Though, according to Wikipedia: "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade is a proverbial phrase used to encourage optimism and a positive can-do attitude in the face of adversity or misfortune. Lemons suggest sourness or difficulty in life; making lemonade is turning them into something positive or desirable" So according to that simple interpretation, this Pollyanna should be all over the phrase. I should be the poster child for lemonade. I should be the very picture of lemonade in your mind. I shouldn't be dissecting the phrase and running a cost or time analysis that any economist would admire. (Okay that might be a stretch for simply using Google search and a calculator, but I'm giving myself cred for going the extra mile to assure my readers have all the facts, no fake news here!)

Here's the rub, I thought having MS WAS my lemon. Now, I've been given a whole huge new gigantic bag of lemons- breast cancer. Geez, right? I mean I should be hurling my lemons and being as sour and puckered as a lemon tastes, before you add the 2 cups of sugar. I should be scowling, swearing (I do, do my fair share actually) and bitter. Want to know the truth, the Scarlett O'Hare turnip clenching, fist raised to the sky "As God is my witness" truth? I'm not bitter. Because, though it is indeed a bitter pill to swallow and chemo is not for the weak, cancer (unlike MS) is curable. Mic drop! Bam! Yes! It's curable so I refuse to get all sour. After all, my pitcher or glass are half-full.

It doesn't mean I don't get sad at times, I am human. And God and I have had some interesting conversations lately. I get sad because the chemo can absolutely wipe me out for a couple days. I slept most of Sunday and a good part of Monday and Tuesday this past week. That's 3 days where I could have been out Pollyanna-ing the heck out of this breast cancer and making all I encounter think "Hey what's the bald woman in the wheelchair all smiling and happy about?". Instead, I was at home on the couch or in bed resting up for my Wednesday and Thursday WW Workshops. I was warned about the chemo fatigue and thought I'd be alright since I've experienced MS fatigue for years, but it has me horizontal. 

My lemonade is sweet because I have the luxury of being able to take those days to rest with the support of many including a patient hubby, family and friends and understanding coworkers. And my lemonade is sweet because I didn't have to make it from scratch - God gave me my disposition knowing I'd have sour times ahead, he armed me from birth to make good out of bad and to find the pitcher or glass is always half full.




Comments

  1. Inspired! Yes, Carl describes the chemo fatigue as being a very sick 80-90 year old...just can’t get up. He went into it “healthy” and would be down at least 3 days. You are as Always Inspiring and a Beautiful Light to us all!��

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

When an ass is so much more

  Body image. Body positivity.  Or about coming to an appreciation for a previously much maligned back end.  In junior high (that's middle school for all of you non boomers), I was given the nickname "big butt Bowen". It was a nickname that stung because I did indeed have a large ass. I tried to mask it, a difficult endeavor since the current fashion (and remember this is junior high when fitting in was paramount) was wearing hip hugger jeans with midriff tops and my disguise of choice were peasant blouses or dresses. That style choice earned an additional nickname, Mama Cass. For those of you that don't know who Mama Cass was, she was part of the Mamas and Papas and known for her beautiful voice but also for her large body.  All about Mama Cass I was cruelly nicknamed at a time when nicknames can really mess with a girl's psyche. And I spent a lifetime as that girl with the messed up psyche. I'm sure there are more than one of you out there that can relate. B

Peter Pan no more

                          It's time. Peter Pan had to grow up.  For nearly 18 months of his life, Matthew dressed in this costume. In this picture it's new, just out of the box. He picked the costume out of a catalog and when it arrived, two weeks prior to Halloween, he asked daily if today was the day he could finally wear his Peter Pan costume. He didn't like the hat and only wore it on Halloween, but the rest of the costume he wore daily! You read that correctly - DAILY. He wore it to Meijer (for those of you unfamiliar with Meijer, it's a cleaner, friendlier, more 'upscale' version of WalMart), to church, to play dates and preschool ... Heck, he was three and adorable and it worked for him!  (Yes you read that correctly, he even wore it to church on one or two occasions when it seemed arguing with a three year old about not wearing a costume to church was not a battle worth waging. He once mentioned the priests wore dresses . . . I don't think Joh

Cabin fever made me do it!

Like nearly ever person in West Michigan, I have a serious case of cabin fever.  I won't waste your time however, complaining about the two-hundred feet of snow that's fallen in the last two hours. I won't share about the twenty or thirty times I've had to shovel my walk today as gusts blew it right back in my face. And I certainly will not lament about the temperatures that hover around negative double digits making your nostrils freeze together within moments of stepping outside. To bore you with tales of how we have to shovel areas in our yard so that our large dog and can do his 'duty' because the snow is deeper than he is tall and dogs for whatever reason cannot poop in the same place twice, is not what I will share. You will not hear about how when I open the slider to let aforementioned dog outside, gusts of wind blow drifts of snow inside and require a shovel to once again close the door.  Nor will I share how some roads around here are drifted shut be