Vestibular Therapy: A Thick Slice of Questions – Day 1 of 3

and so it begins:

vestibular therapy

hold on for the ride…….

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I began vestibular therapy for vertigo last week after a five year ride of progressing intensity and frequency, and the older I get, the more I realize I’m my mother’s daughter. Mom suffered migraines most of her life – the kind where she had to go to her room, draw the blinds, put on an eye mask and take to the bed for the day in complete stillness. We had to be completely silent and not move around the house where she could hear our steps or our talking or breathing. .

My father, still living, has had bouts of vertigo from time to time throughout his life, his episodes bringing dizziness and nausea. He does not have headaches with his.

So I come to this psychedelic DNA altar honestly.

I answered all the hundreds of questions to help them fine-tune my triggers.

Yes, I’ve done some of the exercises I watched on YouTube. I have tried the Epley maneuver and it only makes me sicker and does not stop the movement. I use an Iso Cool pillow, have used one since 2008 and replaced it several times and they don’t make them like they used to – and yes, I’ve tried every kind of pillow out there. I sleep on a memory foam mattress, the kind that arrives in a box you have to cut open and watch rise like dough for 48 hours. I have four inches of memory foam toppers on top of that. I fight three dogs and a husband for space in that bed most nights. Bags…. let’s see, I carry a leather tote bag always on my left shoulder, rarely my right. That’s for work. I usually wear either a leather backpack or a canvas one with RTID if I’m going out for the day on a personal excursion, but only the tote bag is overloaded. No regular traditional purse for me. I do not eat a gluten-free diet (yet, anyway, but it sounds like I might be Googling that up when I get home). I prefer cloudy days to sunny ones – always have – the darker and stormier the better, probably because I don’t feel guilty reading on those days. I prefer cooler temperatures to warmer ones but I like to wrap up and find warmth in the cold. I sleep on my sides, my stomach, my back – wherever I can find sleep. I don’t have sleep apnea or snore unless I have a nasal cold. I take Melatonin to help me relax, and it helps me get to sleep but not stay asleep. Heck yes, my work life is stressful, and I use a computer a lot, especially during data windows where I’m disaggregating data in spreadsheets for days on end. I do have blue light glasses just for that. Yes, I work directly under a fluorescent light in a cubicle. No, I have not adjusted my computer light to low with the yellow glow, but I’ll add that to the list of to-dos. I do carry stress in my neck and feel eye fatigue. Yes, my home life is pretty quiet. Just my husband and me, our three spoiled brat schnoodles, and a lot of writing and reading with early dinners just like all the rest of the old folks we know – it is a place of peace, not triggering any headaches. And yes, I get at least 8 hours of sleep at night.

Yes, I get nausea. The kind I wish I could throw up and get it over with, but it takes hold and won’t turn loose.

Yes, I get a headache with my vertigo, but I must distinguish between the pressure headache and the painful headache. My vertigo headache is not the one with localized throbbing pain. My vertigo headache is a pressure headache – weird and uncomfortable, but distinctly different from the headache that comes at 3:00 like clockwork for some, on the heels of a day that was over the top. Describe the pressure headache? Sure. Please excuse my TMI here, but it’s like my brain has gas and gets bloated and there’s no valve. My right eye goes wonky like it pulls down a little like maybe that’s where a tight balloon is tied off and yet there’s no valve to release any of the pressure because I can’t let it out through my ear.

Describe a day of vertigo and what that’s like? That’s a post for tomorrow.

I’ll share my journey so far across 3 days this week, because I’ve learned more in two hours than in all the past 5 years put together.

Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers at Slice of Life

Day 4 of July Open Write

This day of the month is my favorite – the day when all three of my online writing groups converge – The Slice of Life (www.twowritingteachers.org), The Open Write (www.ethicalela.com), and The Stafford Challenge (a group on Facebook, led by Brian Rohr and inspired by William Stafford). I look forward to seeing my fellow writers in person at NCTE in Boston in November and hereby volunteer to work with others to help set up meet and greet points where we can all eat and write together. There is something special about getting to know a person through writing and then meeting them face to face.

Today’s host at http://www.ethicalela.com for Day 4 of the July Open Write is Gayle Sands of Maryland. She inspires us to write Important Thing Poems based on the childhood classic Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown. You can read Gayle’s full prompt here, and I hope you will write a poem and share it!

I so love this prompt and its reach to everyone, everywhere. This prompt would work to inspire verse in grades Pre-K through 12 and beyond. Classic books have the power to change the world, I am convinced.

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Sparking Hope

The important thing
about a flame
is that it sparks hope.
You can warm by it,
hold hands by it,
kiss by it, sleep by it.
You can see with it,
you can remember through it,
you can glow in it, pray over it,
refine gold in it,
say goodbye or goodnight with it.
But the important thing
about a flame
is that it sparks hope.

Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers at Slice of Life for inspiring teachers to share their writing and giving space to read the work of all and share the love of the writinghood.

How I Beat the Heat


Hallmark’s Christmas in July movies

high velocity fan, full blast

pretending there’s a blizzard

piping hot black coffee

wrapped in sofa throw

Schnoodles piled high

all of us

beating

heat 

The older I get, the less I can endure the extreme heat and humidity. Give me a blizzard to handle the scorching heat! I’ve found that a good snowy Hallmark Christmas in July movie with love instead of hate, free from the problems of the world, is my ticket to a better day! Raising a mug to you – Cheers! Stay cool!

March Open Write Day 2, Slice of Life Challenge Day 17, The Stafford Challenge Day 61

Special Thanks to Two Writing Teachers for the Slice of Life Challenge!

Katrina Morrison of Oklahoma is our host today for the second day of the March Open Write at http://www.ethicalea.com. You can read her full prompt here. She explains that misheard lyrics are called Mondegreen. I’m a fan of Coxy.Official, and when the whole bed is shaking with my laughter at night, my husband knows I’m watching Nathan Cox on Tik Tok. He’s the king of music Mondegreen, and so thanks to Katrina, I now know this misheard lyric genre has a name. Coxy’s short clips are for adults, and it’s not the words as much as his reactions that get my tickle box turned over. Now it makes me want to go find the exact lyrics for all those songs I often mis-sang growing up. I was never sure whether Clapton was saying she don’t ride, she don’t ride, she don’t ride cocaine or she’s alright, she’s alright, she’s alright cocaine, but either way you sing it, it works in the song.

My poem is about a text that became our own new phrase shortly after we married.

Photo by Torsten Dettlaff on Pexels.com

Loyding On Purpose Now

notification
his familiar text ding~ I
knew what it would say

same time, each morning
and his words never get old
or lose their meaning

I pulled up his text
unaware it would become
our new word for love

his ear-clogged iPhone
or else his autocorrect 
sauced up his message:

I loyd you, he’d sent
over and over I laughed
trying to respond

in all-cap letters
I replied: I LOYD YOU, TOO
we’ve been loyding since

Hygge Pantoum – Stafford Challenge Day 14

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Today’s Pantoum poem celebrates warmth and comfort in these cold, wintry days leading up to mid-winter. I have a little faith in our southern groundhog, so I’m holding out some hope for a thick blanketing of snow to keep us home for a few days, snuggled fireside with books and dogs, before warming up and staying warm so the peaches will survive. Georgia lost 90% of its crop last year to a late freeze, and what few I was able to find locally cost a fortune and ended up in Mason jars as preserves so we could enjoy them all winter.

For today, though, there is hot tea with honey ~ and so begins my poem. Stay warm, friends.

Hygge Pantoum

chamomile tea with honey
warm blankets, heated throw
sherpa slippers (ears of bunny)
beeswax candle's ambient glow

warm blankets, heated throw
heavy quilts of rag-stitched flannel
beeswax candle's ambient glow
flickering shadows on the mantel

heavy quilts of rag-stitched flannel
heirloom warmth of hand-stitched hugs
flickering shadows on the mantel
cotton-braided oval rugs

heirloom warmth of hand-stitched hugs
sherpa slippers (ears of bunny)
cotton-braided oval rugs
chamomile tea with honey

Special thanks to Twowritingteachers at Slice of Life for giving writers space and inspiration!

A Slice of Night: From 1:21 to 3:38 to 4:32 a.m

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It’s 3:38 a.m. and since 1:21, 

a crooner has been singing

on repeat in my ear right through the pillow 

It’s the Holiday Season

So hoop-de-do

And hickory dock

and just exactly at 12 o’clock

He’ll be coming down the chimney

coming down the chimney

Coming down the chimney down

And I need this to stop!!! 

Because I need to worry

About the ceiling

And the little piece of plaster that fell 

That Briar tried to replace with

Glue and tape and a broomstick 

On top of a tall ladder but it 

Plunged to the floor and broke

Now we need a spackling job

But there might be moisture 

And we might need a repair

Or black mold might start growing

And take over the whole house

And we would get sick and die

And I need to worry about what might have happened

if he’d fallen off that ladder at his age

And all the whatifs that go with a thing like that 

Like if we want to change where we will be buried because I do NOT want to be buried on the current plan anymore and I asked for my own cemetery way back a year ago in July and it still hasn’t happened and so maybe I’ll get a Christmas cemetery,

I sure hope so,

down by the road under the only hardwoods on this farm, with little iron fence that stays empty until we are all too old to move or talk or breathe anymore, but a cemetery that’s ready at any moment just for the peace of mind

I might be the only woman on the face of this planet who would cry tears of unwept joy opening the gift of a personal cemetery, but I’m dead serious 

I heard a thud and am relieved

It’s a pillow I kicked off the bed and not a dog 

Especially the one who already

Broke a leg before we rescued him

Now he just snuggled closer to me

Those little feet 

Always find the boobs always 

Always always and ouch 

Ouch

He burrows to my feet finally

Thank Goodness

I have the presents but I still need to

Wrap some and remember to get part 2 of the work gift exchange 

And make Little Debbie Christmas tree cake dip – and replace the regular sprinkles with Christmas sprinkles 

And after 2 pairs of Levi’s and a pair of Timberland Boots that I have gotten him again just like for the past at least 8 Christmases 

He says on December 11 before bed

He wants a sound machine because these new fans are too quiet 

They don’t make them like they used to

And I need to gather pine cones for the night tree.

Crisco and birdseeds I already have, and that twine is somewhere maybe even in the toolbox

and I need another newspaper since I used extra newsprint on gift wrapping but now we will for sure need it for the mess after reading the book and honoring the critter tree tradition

And these grandkids will do this. It’s what their father and aunts and I have done since he was little in preK and got the book as a gift from his teacher and it is what I was doing by the driveway when he called to tell me he was planning on popping the question to their mother

this tree we have always done together

But no gingerbread houses, no!! Lord, no! There aren’t enough sprinkles and nerves in this world for that, that’s why I bought them the Lego set last year. They can put that together as their gingerbread house.

We will make cookies. Break and bake sugar cookies with a can of store-bought icing with a tablespoon of Crisco and some cornstarch mixed in with the beaters so the icing will harden and maybe we use the regular sprinkles for that since my granddaughter likes pink, the one who can say she likes pink

I think we can do that and sweep up all the sprinkles 

And I have to be up in an hour getting ready now that it is 4:00 because the conference is an hour away and registration starts at 7:00 so I need to leave here by 6;00 meaning feet on the floor at 5:00 

and help!!! What to wear???

I haven’t even worried about that yet so maybe the gray pants and a black shirt and sweater but my feet will freeze if I can’t wear my regular black boots and they don’t go with those pants and I just don’t want to wear a dress since I have to wear my magnetic work name tag and it looks like it’s lost on a dress so maybe 

….could I get away with jeans? Wouldn’t that just be great to show up in the ripped knee pair? Surely they would take that one picture if I did, the one defining conference picture to go on social media to show all of us working, thinking critically, collaborating, communicating, creating

All the professionals in their pressed slacks and boutique blouses and nametags and me in my ripped jeans and boots and camo shirt and it’s too bad it’s so cold or I could pull out my camo Birkenstocks for that picture and if I were really bold just wear them in the winter with socks to hear Joan Sedita talk about The Writing Rope 

the one supposed to be a random candid where I’m the only one looking straight at the camera like I’m all defiant in my fashion all because I couldn’t sleep and it’s the holiday season 

And hoop-de-do

And hickory dock

And just exactly at 12 o’clock

He’ll be coming down the chimney

Coming down the chimney

Coming down the chimney down

Happy holidays

Happy holidays

While the merry bells keep ringing

Happy holidays

to you

It’s the holiday season

And Santa Claus is coming round

The winter snow is white on the ground

And when old Santa gets into town

He’ll be coming down the chimney down

He’ll be coming down the chimney down

It’s the holiday season

And Santa Claus has got a toy

For every good girl and good little boy

He’s got a great big bundle o’ joy

He’ll be coming down the chimney down

He’ll be coming down the chimney down

He’s got a big fat pack upon his back

And lots of goodies for you and for me

So leave a peppermint stick for old St. Nick

Hanging on the Christmas tree

It’s the holiday season

So hoop-de-do and hickory dock

And don’t forget to hang up your sock

‘Cause just exactly at 12 o’clock

He’ll be coming down the chimney

Coming down the chimney

Coming down the chimney down

Happy holidays

Happy holidays

While the merry bells keep ringing

Happy holidays to you

  • …..and now it’s 4:32

The Conference Getaway

When I bring out my small suitcase I use for overnight conferences, my dogs all know I’m leaving. They know I’m going to shower them with love and treats after I load the car, but that’s not what’s important to them at the moment.

Boo Radley takes to the laundry room and sulks on his blanket by the window. (Later, my husband will text me with a photo of him staring down the driveway for my electric blue RAV-4, holding out hope I’ll be back before nightfall – – and he won’t come in until he’s picked up and brought inside). Ollie flattens out on the floor, chin to the ground and legs splayed parallel on both sides like an unstuffed animal in random places that make no sense.

But Fitz, my soul dog, gets clingy like a toddler suffering from severe separation anxiety. This baby actually whines, as if trying to convince me not to go.

“You’re leaving. I don’t want you to leave. Don’t go. Stay home.”

On these mornings when I settle in to try to write before I leave town, Fitz won’t stand for it. He gets between the computer and me and refuses to budge. This morning, he came clear over the coffee table between our chairs and wedged his way in between my keyboard and me.

I have to stop what I am doing to make time for my sweet boy, and remember that while he is a big part of my world, I’m his entire world. I have to reassure him again and again and again and again and again that I will be back. With yet another treat.

I look into his searching eyes that are begging me to change my mind. I tussle his ears and plant a kiss between his eyes.

“I’ve got to go out and earn a living, your Highness,” I remind him, “to take care of you three spoiled rotten Schnoodles who have become accustomed to all your treat expectations.”

This doesn’t humor him at all. It’s a very sad day here, and Fitz would like everyone to take a moment today to feel sorry for him. He’d like everyone reading this to please spend extra time with your dogs today, to give them treats and plenty of love, and to tell them that there are actual dogs out there whose people leave them for a day or two, and it’s just not right.

Slice of Life Challenge – March 1 :The Slicer Meet-Up

When I was in California last November for the NCTE Convention, I programmed my phone’s navigation to take me to McCormick and Schmick’s at the Anaheim Garden Walk for the Slice of Life Meet-Up at 5:00. I couldn’t wait to meet everyone, to put faces with the names of the bloggers whose posts I read every Tuesday throughout the year and everyday during the month of March for the Slice of Life Writing Challenge. We were each bringing a gift for a writer for a gift exchange, but I knew that the best gift of all would be the personal connections I would make with my fellow writers.

I planned to arrive right on time so that I could be back at the Anaheim Hilton at 6:30 for the Open Write Meet-up in the MIX Restaurant for dinner with my group giving a presentation at the conference. Even though I was still in a boot as my broken right ankle healed, I figured this walk would be quick and easy.

I was wrong.

I’m not sure why, but whenever I’m walking in a major city along with hundreds of thousands of other people, I imagine that everyone is going to the same place I’m going – or at least that they know where everywhere is and can help me if I get lost. At the first intersection, my arrow was still wonky, changing directions like a compass that couldn’t locate magnetic north, so I took a chance and stayed in the stream with the masses.

I started scanning the throng of people for anyone who looked like a writer who might be headed to the table for the dozen or so of us who would be attending, and my eyes fell on two women about my age who appeared to have had the characteristic writer’s callus on the last knuckle of their middle fingers. I was convinced I’d successfully used my detective skills and found them.

At the next traffic light, I eased my way closer to them so that I could tag along and listen for a moment. They’d stopped talking, so I made a bold move and decided to ask.

“Are you going to the Slicer meet-up?”

No sooner had I gotten the words out of my mouth, I realized I had asked the wrong people the right question the wrong way, given the state of our world.

I found myself looking into two completely horrified faces. Horrified.

The walking light turned white, and they turned and took off in another direction, looking back over their shoulders at me as if I’d been sporting a knife in my boot. Me. A murderous slicer. I was glad I had saved a chain of emails in case the cops came and I had been taken in for questioning.

Next time, I’ll know to inconspicuously whisper, “Would you happen to be headed to the Slice of Life invitational dinner for celebrity writers?”

I walked on another block, and then I saw a familiar female face standing at a traffic light, waiting to cross. At least I was pretty sure it was her. I decided on a safer tactic.

“Fran?”

“Yes,” she replied, looking at me curiously.

“I’m Kim. I recognize your picture from your blog. Are you going to the meet-up?”

We walked the rest of the way together, and we managed to find our fellow writers.

A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing the Slice of Life Writing Challenge now and throughout the year, and to Melanie Meehan for arranging such a lovely gathering, full of fun, laughter, writers’ gifts, and stories! I’m hoping that we will be able to enjoy time together again at this year’s NCTE Convention. I’ll plan to Uber and would love to share a ride with you to the Citrus Society Celebrity Writer’s Red Carpet Invitational Gala!

2022 Slicer Meet-Up in Anaheim, California
A street somewhere in Anaheim where I got lost and somehow avoided being arrested.