Ashamed

Seriously, I'm ashamed of my whining yesterday. You would think it was all about

when in fact, it's not. Enough already Gail!

However, there is one last thing about me I want to share:

My non-existent eyes? No, really what I wanted to show you is a new setting I discovered on my camera last evening. Bruce and I visited the Bahama Breeze in Altamonte last night, which is always a little bittersweet for several reasons. One is because he spent an outrageous amount of time on that job, the other is because we often met Bruce's mom there for celebratory meals. I digress--the setting is a soft focus on the face! What could be better for an aging woman I ask? Nothing in the camera realm anyway! Now if only I could open those eyes more! Obviously I had Bruce try it out at home before we left the house, although he wouldn't allow me to do likewise.

After writing that post yesterday morning, a Sunday School song kept popping in my head which goes like this:

Count your blessings,

Count them one by one,

Count your many blessings,

See what God has done.

And so I did, and there are many, many blessings in my life, not the least of which are a terrific family and friends. Lisa pointed out the ebbs and flows of life, while Matt reminded me that reduced sales (how's that for a euphemism?) were a big improvement over fatigue and pain. Forgive me, will you?

Another blessing is that I'm no longer in school. Where, pray tell did that come from Gail? After completing another of the continuing education tests yesterday,  I went looking for evidence of points I've already accumulated during this renewal period. Pulling all my notebooks and papers off the shelves in my office, going through them, and most definitely getting rid of everything related to those subjects I most disliked felt good. You know the ones, Biology, Historical Geology, and all Math classes--so many notebooks filled with math problems. If I had to take those Math classes again today, I'm sure it would be the same struggle. So, that made me extremely happy to have all that behind me.

Photoelectric effect, Compton theory, electrons, atomic numbers and the like were part of the learning yesterday. It is hard to imagine picking a science career all those years ago. It's no wonder my high school Chemistry teacher laughed when I said I was applying to x-ray school. On the other hand, love is a powerful motivator. Returning to Orlando to be with Bruce was the fire that kept me struggling through Physics and worse during my training. Is there anything worse than Physics? If there is, I don't want any part of it! I must sign up for a seminar where all I have to do is sit there, looking somewhat interested for 8 hours, and walk out with the certificate! And, by the way, I never found the evidence I was looking for, however, my shelves look much better.

The estate is settled. Driving home last night with the evidence in my purse, Bruce and I were sad. It all seems so final now. Dreadfully hard to put the loss of a beloved one behind you. I hate that he's had to leave for four days feeling blue. He, at least, has good cause, unlike someone you know!

I'm Over It

Forgive me for sounding like a baby--I went out and took some pictures--when you see scenery like this close to home it melts your troubles away.

I didn't tell you that I watched the film a week ago and read the ten pages online to answer that question on Saturday afternoon. Needless to say, I remembered little of the stupid article.

After an hour taking pictures I stopped by the grocery store for a few things. As I was pulling out of my parking space I saw two women with a child in a stroller. One of the women was in a wheelchair--the blanket covering her feet no longer did so. She had malformed swollen feet; now she has something to complain about. It reminded me of one of my former patients who only wanted me every time. Trouble is she has spina bifida and is in a wheelchair only about three feet off the ground. Compounding the problem for the mammographer is that her breasts are the size of small watermelons. In addition, she had a very tiny cancer which necessitated her coming back every six months for three years. Yours truly used to have to get down on my knees, hoist the giant breast onto the plate while working the best I could around the wheelchair--now that was difficult. Imagine being in her seat--she'd had 34 surgeries, as I recall she was like 37 years old.

So, the whining has stopped on this end. Off to class to take the midterm--that means I'm half way there doesn't it?