The Glass is Half-Full

  be careful what you wish/pray for. On Christmas Eve, I was lamenting the lack of snow. "When it's winter, I'd rather there was snow on the ground," I mused, "instead of this ugly grayness." Well, there's snow on the ground and plenty of it. In fact, I estimate about 250 inches (though we all know how bad I am at math) and there's more coming down and even more in the forecast. Looking out, it's kind of pretty. Like a snow globe. As a four-wheeler, I feel though almost trapped inside that snow globe because traversing the snow is difficult and messy in a wheelchair. Imagine pushing a stroller through a sandy beach and you have an inkling about the challenges of propelling my chair through deep snow. And sometimes, getting the snow off the wheels of the chair is a frustrating task. I towel off the wheels, but they are still a little wet and/or dirty. Imagine coming in from the snow, wiping your boots on a mat but then walking in to the house with...

  I spent the last 45 days of 2024 suffering with a wee bit of the plague.  It didn't completely stop me, but it came close. I only briefly came out of my isolation to participate in the Lakeshore Community Chorus' holiday concert, to take care of the world's most adorable bairn and then celebrate his first birthday, to attend Christmas Eve worship, to see the bio-pic of Bob Dylan, celebrate NYE with the previously mentioned adorable grandson and his parents and to have short visits with my daughter from a different mother/father and her adorable daughter. I don't think I missed any 'events'. After each of these 'events' I then went back to my cocoon (the recliner in the living room, with my blankie and water bottle). There I could cough, sneeze and ache in relative comfort with my tissues, Mucinex and Advil nearby. I also discovered the comfort of an occasional hot toddy. When there were no signs of improvement, I went to my doctor and she prescribed an...

  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...

John and I arrived early for an appointment (for those of you that know my husband, you know that this is not infrequent! The story of arriving three hours early for a flight to Phoenix from Midway still gets repeated and laughed about when the 'kids' get together). We found a seat and the waiting room began to fill. We had chosen seats away from the TV where NBC's Today Show was playing, so we couldn't see what was on the screen. Another couple sat before the TV and provided commentary and as the time progressed provided a glimpse into a total different 'reality'. "Oh I can't even stand to look at him. He's so evil" "What is wrong with his hair?" "This administration will do down in history as the worst ever." "The federal government is taking over the states. There's going to be a civil war, just you wait." "They just let all those illegal aliens in and then they're going to give them weapons to take...

  When I was a child and someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, the response varied greatly through the years. Having once wanting to be a nun (I can hear the guffaws and peels of laughter now!) to an attorney (I married one and birthed two instead) to being secretary of state (diplomacy was gift) to being an actress (still love a stage!) and to being a journalist (did the latter off and on).  Not once would I have responded to being a mother or bookstore clerk or Weight Watcher coach - but those last three turned out to be my jam. Those last three are where I have found the greatest joy, had an impact and felt most comfortable. And yesterday, I had my last Weight Watcher's workshop saying goodbye to members and to coworkers that hold a special place in my heart. As a coach, I was honored to walk alongside members as they struggled with emotional issues and self doubts but also when they gained strength and control over life-long mindsets that were hold...

  Each year I pull out the Christmas decorations and it’s like a walk down memory lane. The ornament that Michael made in preschool with his handprint in clay. or the one with Matthew’s picture in the middle of a wreath made of puzzle pieces painted green. Or the one of Glinda the good witch, we got for Delaney tge year she was Glinda in the play. As I hold each one, I remember the who, what, why of them and I’m whisked back. There are many that not only bear the scars of time but of that damn dog, Wally. When Wally was that ‘damn dog’ before becoming ‘the best damn dog’. *sigh* The Santa with his hand chewed off, the angel statuette whose halo has vanished  along with most of her hair/yarn and left eye are two beyond repair. I have tried to mend some and still others were long since thrown away. They’re reminders of a pup that could be destructive when he didn’t get the attention he desired - usually when his primary carer (me) had the audacity to take a shower or go to the b...

  In the movie "it's a Wonderful Life", the protagonist George Bailey has longed nearly his whole life to 'shake off the dust of this crummy little town off my feet," to see the world. But Bedford Falls, that crummy little town, felt differently about George. And with the help of a quirky guardian angel, George eventually sees that his life and his town were pretty wonderful. Good lord, but I love that movie and it's characters and it's moral and that small town. I watch it every year at least twice and still cry every time. And I wonder too about the man that pushes the devious Mr. Potter's wheelchair and stands by his side- you know the man, he looks a little like Lurch from "The Addams Family". I wonder, what was he thinking as he listened and watched his boss ruin the lives of everyone he could. What kind of an Non-disclosure agreement did he sign, to keep him silent as he stood by and watched Potter pocket the money Uncle Billy was depo...

When I was younger and lived in Farmington Hills, our neighborhood would rent a bus and we would go downtown to watch the Thanksgiving Parade. My most vivid memories of those excursions include the cold that would seep from the cold, concrete sidewalks into my boots and numb my toes and the cup of hot cocoa that turned quickly to lukewarm cocoa and last but not least, I remember a few of the floats.  This year, I got to see the Parade from the warmth of the Episcopal Church's offices on Woodward Avenue while sipping warm coffee and eating delectable treats. While I may have missed the full technicolor, musical experience, my toes thanked me! We spent Thanksgiving in Detroit at Michael's (my eldest) and Carmen's home. We could be starting a new holiday tradition - instead of gathering at the Douglas 'homestead'. Since Carmen is due to deliver the next generation, on December 14 we all agreed that she should not travel and we would celebrate together with them in thei...

  I love it when I'm able to surprise myself. It's kind of hard to do if you think about it - surprising yourself; it's not like you can jump out and say surprise or think something you didn't know you were thinking. You know what I mean? Here's how the feat transpired.  I was parked in Saugatuck at the corner of Butler and Hoffman, near the book store. I needed to get to choir rehearsal and then come back to the store, so my original thought was that I would drive the block and a half and then come back. But it was a busy Saturday and I knew that parking was at a premium, so I  debated with myself about whether I would drive or leave the car and maneuver to rehearsal. You might be thinking, what's the big deal it's only a block. Even in a wheelchair, you should be able to go a block. And I can. But this is a block with a fairly steep hill and a fairly rutted sidewalk. But if I drive t here may not be any parking spaces nearby and I'll end up having to p...

  Tuesday was cool, the morning especially. And while working at the Book Nook I saw people dressed for two seasons -summer and fall. Lots of plaids, flannel and boots or booties worn by customers that I assumed were anxious for fall. Not me. I'm holding on to summer for dear life. I wore a sleeveless dress, sandals and a cotton sweater. I mean here in Michigan we will be donning those fall duds and not showing skin again for at least eight months. And while I'm not good at a math, I know that eight months is most of the year. According to my calculator that's 66 percent of the year (66.666667 to be exact - my math 094 professor at MSU would be impressed that I knew that if I'd done it myself. But I'm smart enough to use a calculator to come up with that - like I used to tell her every class "we don't need to know how to do that, we can just use a calculator". Pretty sure I wasn't her favorite).  Boy did I digress with that walk down memory lane. A...

  I have had two very different experiences shopping in the past week. At two different stores in two different cities. While in Grand Rapids for a dermatologist appointment (nothing major found, just a couple zaps/freezes - which is amazing for this fair-skinned lass who had had more than her fair share of sunburns!), I decided  to check out Horrocks Market. It's a store I visited once or twice in Lansing and they opened this GR location near our home in Kentwood a few years after we had moved. I have always wanted to check it out and last week seemed like a perfect chance. First, the ramps into the store are very steep and making rolling up a feat my abs and arms did not appreciate. The store did not have a motorized cart that I could see, or the little shopping carts with wheels (love the ones at Walgreens). So my now noodle-y arms and my chair wheeled through the store with my shopping bag from Aldi. I enjoyed exploring but not 'shopping' because my bag could only hol...

  I understand that there are those who may believe my use of the term 'gimp' is derogatory or demeaning. I do not use it lightly or to belittle anyone, it's just a lot easier for me to than 'disabled' or 'handicapped' because it uses a little snark or humor to something that could use a little of that. Or in this case, I specifically want to make light of my situation so that it doesn't feel depressing. For you or me. Let me try to explain.  One of my pet peeves is the look of sympathy I get from well-meaning people. Like, "Aw, sweetie, I am so sorry that you are less abled, confined to a wheelchair and less able to live the full, active life that I lead."  I am in a wheelchair most of the time and my life is different because of that but in truth I never wanted to run a marathon of play pickleball or climb Mt. Baldhead (I've done the latter too many times usually bringing up the rear of the group I was with and/or being cheered on by the ...

  I am not sure if its aging, the current state of chaos in the world or something more personal, but I have had a difficult time in the past couple years finding the positive in everything. It used to be my superpower. Hence the title of the blog, the glass is half-full. Instead, I find myself struggling to find that positivity in all things. Its like my superpower has been voided by kryptonite or something sinister. And as its happened I've simply succumbed like a weak-assed ninny, laying down my the shield that protected my positive mindset and opening it up to the onslaught of skepticism and mistrust. The durability of my positive mindset was replaced with an attitude of 'oh what the hell-ism'. My desire to go out in the world and conquer all curmudgeons with my steadfast will to make them smile has been overcome by the that ever-forceful and evil lassitude. While I've not reached that state of my glass being half empty, its more like the glass is half full-ish. ...

Okay all of you 'struggling to stand' or 'not wanting to have to use a wheelchair' or others that look upon using a wheelchair as a symbol of failure, you're about to get punched. Punched in the figurative sense. I am about to go on my soap box and my Irish is up which means that I'm fairly peeved (though I've been mulling this over for awhile so I'm not as angry as I once was, which means there will be fewer expletives and a kinder tone). If you've read this blog or know me at all, you know that I did not go easily into using a wheelchair as my primary mode of transport. I too, may have had a little bit of your attitude about the wheelchair being sign of failure or of having given up. My sister, Kerri, helped put it in a different light. She said, and I'm paraphrasing here, "It's actually an energy saver since walking is stressful and you're worried about falling - using a wheelchair will take away a lot of that stress. You will hav...

  Years ago as a freelance writer, I submitted an essay entitled "The I'll Nevers of Parenting". It was a list, mostly, of things I had said prior to having children and the crow I was then eating because of the stupidity of the claims. You know little pearls of 'wisdom' that only someone who hasn't experienced the joys of  parenting could utter, like: I will never yell at my child in public or I will never let my child eat dinner in front of the television or my children will never stay up past 9 pm. I yelled at my children (usually when we were both tired and totally irrational!) in public. One time, as we were in the drop off lane at school with a long line of cars behind us, the boys hoped out of the car but Delaney was insisting on something that for the life of me I cannot recall and I was insisting that she get out of the van. We crept along, van door still open, until I got to the end of the line and yelled at the top of my voice, "Delaney get the...

I have been living with MS since 1992 - I used the calculator on my phone to determine that it's 29 years (because unlike the man pictured above my math skills are lacking). That's a long time and you don't need to be mathematically inclined to come to that conclusion. And when first diagnosed, my neurologist declared that with all the research he believed a cure was imminent likely 'within five years'. that would mean that we would have had the cure 24 years ago. We don't. So I am grateful I didn't wager any money on Dr. Wiley's prediction.  But what we do have, instead of a cure, is a plethora of pharmaceuticals to help stem this disease's progression and help us live fuller lives, longer. I am happy for that but am also curious and a tad skeptical because these drugs cost a person living with MS a lot of money and pharma has no financial incentive to search for the cure when they can keep us living less gimpy lives for many years reliant on their ...

It's no secret that I didn't go easily into the wheelchair - I went kicking and screaming, metaphorically at least. So when a Facebook memory came up from 4 years ago, of the day I got Hot Wheels, it was an opportunity to reflect back over those years and how this chair has changed my life and perspective. While I still wish I didn't have secondary progressive MS that necessitated my need for a wheelchair, that I have it is a fact of life that wishing cannot change. I have prayed too, but the answer to those prayers seem to be that I'm supposed to be where I am and to be a wheeled disciple for God's grace. (If you knew me when I was in my teens and 20s you'd know that I was hell on wheels before I had wheels and led anything but  a grace-filled life). Prior to acquiescing to the wheeled life, I used to hobble along using a cane or walker and falling frequently. It was after one of those falls that I sat on the floor amid spilled groceries in tears pleading to Go...

It's a tad chilly here today with enough of a breeze to remind you that winter's coming soon. So I knew that I'd need to dress in extra layers for a walk with my friend Kris. (Well, she walks and I ride along in my scooter but you already knew that, faithful reader.) I went to put on my vest, and spend nearly ten minutes trying to get it zipped up - my glasses needed the lenses cleaned and the lighting was bad and the zipper is small and my dexterity isn't what it used to be- which had me scrambling to get out the door in a timely manner for the appointed 3:00 excursion. And then, I couldn't find the gloves I needed to wear. I wanted the blue ones to match my hat and scarf. Because if you're in a scooter on a blustery day you will attract attention and need to look good, right? And then the cars were blocking the way for the scooter to get out of the garage. So I had to go back into the house to find the key, then move the car. When I got on the scooter, I notic...

  It's been a long couple of months, this week so far. Know what I mean? Election day in the time of pandemic. Election day in the time of a fractured country. Election day in the time of a president who openly courts only half of the country and claims "you're either with me or against me." According to Walter Issacson , the historian, “What we have lost is the sense that we are one nation, all in this together. Donald Trump is the first president in our history who has sought to divide us rather than unite us. We will heal once he leaves, but the scar will endure.”  Election day when the arbiter of this election may once again be the Supreme Court if the Electoral College doesn't give the result the president wants. I was struck this weekend by the essays in the New York Time, under the umbrella of "What We've Lost", in particular the one by Maureen Dowd, 'Sharknado Goes to Washington". She wrote "T he most bizarre fact that sticks in...

  You, dear reader, kind of know me. My blog title, the glass is half full, gives you a clue into my predisposition. I find the positive in nearly every situation. Or, more accurately, 'found' the positive. I'm struggling. And I know that I'm not alone. There is just so so so so much to struggle with - emotionally, physically, mentally that it's difficult not to get overwhelmed. Know what I mean? I listened to a great sermon last Sunday. I felt uplifted and motivated to be the change - to live like Christ and lean in to the Holy Spirit and to focus on all that is "true, honorable, worthy of respect, right ...brings peace...worthy of praise" (this is a terrible paraphrase of Philippians 4:8 but you get the picture, and I'm sure God won't mind if it's not perfect when I'm trying to concisely communicate the point). John and I were in great moods as we had those words on our minds and we saw a sign that read "Sprinkle goodness like confet...