Morning Friend,
Like a deadly gunslinger in the Old West, a plotting mad terrorist or a fugitive on the F.B.I.'s most wanted list, I am to be considered "armed and dangerous".
No, I'm not carrying firearms or explosives nor am I a danger to life and limb in any sense.
I'm talking about W.M.B.D.'s baby....BIG time!!!
Weapons of Mass Blues Destruction are my formidable armaments and with my sights locked on misery, pessimism and apathy, I'm loaded for bear; or at least humans acting "bearishly"!
You wanna be grumpy and miserable like you just woke up from a lengthy hibernation that's your business, but don't get in my line of fire today cause I'll fire off a few rounds your way with deadly accuracy.
I'm packing....a smothering love, a rapier wit, a fiery lust for life and a killer charm and I'm not afraid to use them.
I am afraid that life is too short to waste in misery, too precious to squander in sadness and too valuable to take for granted.
As one blessed with the renewed vision of a second chance, and having discovered this cache of W.M.B.D.'s within my grateful heart, I now enforce a daily vendetta against the darkness of despair that once shrouded my life.
As the kids say today, "It's all good!" and when it's "really" good as it is in my case, it is imperatively and extravagantly shared.
Something as simple to implement as a warm smile is the Blues' deadly enemy.
The few seconds that it takes to administer a sincere compliment and to bask in its' accompanying gratitude slays the Blues every time.
A moment of shared laughter is fatally poisonous to the Blues.
Logging-in to a positive attitude gives the Blues short shrift and a well deserved bum's rush.
I have run into some folks that claim to be somehow content in their misery and would rather not be bothered by some "big overly happy goof".
Those ones get a double shot, WHAM-BAM!!!
Call it collateral damage?
Love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe....
Love as long as you live ( overly)
THREE Angels!
Angela, Ash & Janelle
Abraham Stainer Esq.
a.k.a. "Ab"
Tinker-Timmy & Friends
Jan'l. Angeela, Ash and Ab
Monday, April 11, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
Soul-stice #91
Morning Friend,
In this part of the world we are blessed with a vivid manifestation of all four of the seasons, and at this time of the year it's not uncommon to experience them all at once.
Over the course of the weekend we had a Spring melt, some Summery warmth, cool-ish Autumnal winds and some large but fleeting Wintry snowfall.
Combined with our now ever-lengthening days this is exhilarating stuff indeed, not to mention challenging...from a wardrobe standpoint at any rate.
Choosing the right scarf to match the shorts and rubber boots is like paisley and plaid; a fashion nightmare!
Luckily, as a man bereft of style ( I've been described as "pre-contemporary hobo redux"), and classless ( I bring my own sandwiches to the ballet), such matters weigh little upon my daily dalliances.
For me, if the shoe fits, and the other one does too, so what if one's a loafer and the other a high-top?
As one who has borne the brunt of another winter - which in this part of the world is a harsh and decidedly unpalatable affair - I am fiercely pleased by any conditions accompanied by temperatures warmer than minus 50.
When it finally becomes fully 60 or more degrees warmer than that, old Mr. Exuberance tends to head outside sporting next to nothing anyway.
I don't know whether "half-naked" is "IN" or not this year, I just know I'll be IN cutoffs for the FULL five months of this Summer.
Now wait a minute....did I just say FIVE months of Summer!?
Yes I believe I did and if you'll allow a logical explanation based on a little "Big Picture Thinking", your day will assume as similarly a sunny Summer sensibility as my own.
June 21st.....the longest day of the year, the beautiful sun is at the apex of its' yearly journey and the days grow shorter beginning the very next day.
By late August the days are noticeably shorter yet the sun is yet close to the earth; its' rays wonderfully strong. ( I am by then well into my second pair of cutoffs )
Tradition tells us that Summer consists of June, July and August but tradition, like fashion is for free-spirited folks to flout.
The sun today ( early April ) in relation to the earth, is equidistant from its' position on June 21st as it is in late August. ( unaccompanied by mosquitoes I might add )
Of course it doesn't feel quite like August because everything is frozen solid still and everyone's sporting a Nosferatu-esque pallor but if you doubt me, find yourself a nice spot out of the wind and lay in the sun for a few hours.
You can borrow my Hawaiian Tropic this once but I've got to watch my supply...
It's going to be a looonnng Summer!
love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe....
Love as long as you live ( S.P.F.'d)
In this part of the world we are blessed with a vivid manifestation of all four of the seasons, and at this time of the year it's not uncommon to experience them all at once.
Over the course of the weekend we had a Spring melt, some Summery warmth, cool-ish Autumnal winds and some large but fleeting Wintry snowfall.
Combined with our now ever-lengthening days this is exhilarating stuff indeed, not to mention challenging...from a wardrobe standpoint at any rate.
Choosing the right scarf to match the shorts and rubber boots is like paisley and plaid; a fashion nightmare!
Luckily, as a man bereft of style ( I've been described as "pre-contemporary hobo redux"), and classless ( I bring my own sandwiches to the ballet), such matters weigh little upon my daily dalliances.
For me, if the shoe fits, and the other one does too, so what if one's a loafer and the other a high-top?
As one who has borne the brunt of another winter - which in this part of the world is a harsh and decidedly unpalatable affair - I am fiercely pleased by any conditions accompanied by temperatures warmer than minus 50.
When it finally becomes fully 60 or more degrees warmer than that, old Mr. Exuberance tends to head outside sporting next to nothing anyway.
I don't know whether "half-naked" is "IN" or not this year, I just know I'll be IN cutoffs for the FULL five months of this Summer.
Now wait a minute....did I just say FIVE months of Summer!?
Yes I believe I did and if you'll allow a logical explanation based on a little "Big Picture Thinking", your day will assume as similarly a sunny Summer sensibility as my own.
June 21st.....the longest day of the year, the beautiful sun is at the apex of its' yearly journey and the days grow shorter beginning the very next day.
By late August the days are noticeably shorter yet the sun is yet close to the earth; its' rays wonderfully strong. ( I am by then well into my second pair of cutoffs )
Tradition tells us that Summer consists of June, July and August but tradition, like fashion is for free-spirited folks to flout.
The sun today ( early April ) in relation to the earth, is equidistant from its' position on June 21st as it is in late August. ( unaccompanied by mosquitoes I might add )
Of course it doesn't feel quite like August because everything is frozen solid still and everyone's sporting a Nosferatu-esque pallor but if you doubt me, find yourself a nice spot out of the wind and lay in the sun for a few hours.
You can borrow my Hawaiian Tropic this once but I've got to watch my supply...
It's going to be a looonnng Summer!
love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe....
Love as long as you live ( S.P.F.'d)
Monday, March 21, 2011
In Toon #90
Morning Friend,
My bank has beefed up its' internet safety by asking prearranged "security questions" in order to log on; the answers to which are known by me alone.
In the interests of today's discussion I'm going to share my answer to one of those questions...."Who was your favorite childhood superhero?".
You would of course need additional information to access the vast riches languishing in my account, but please allow me to assure you that the risks and effort involved are far more vast than the reality of my balance which, like your chance of success, is closer to zero.
The fact that I am financially sparse however, is something of a clue to the answer!
I've been methodically and earnestly chipping away at the mountain of debt accumulated over years of spending like a drunken sailor.
Now there weren't any "drunk" superheroes in my childhood but there was a sailor who was heroic in every sense of the word.
Popeye, the humble self-effacing righter of wrongs who I raced home from school every day to watch on television remains influential in my life today, not just as a security question answer, but as a relatable character of timeless heroic virtue.
The parallels are eerie to the point that the question might just as well ask "What childhood superhero do you yet emulate?"
The Sailorman and I share a love of the sea, children, and troubled ( but exotically beautiful?) women.
We both enjoy a good hearty laugh and take liberties with the English language...often porpoisely!
Check yes for "bad hair" and tobacco use although I've never fancied the corncob pipe or the nautical look.
At one with nature, taking life in stride, mending nets on bad days and sailing on good ones are the hallmarks of my colorfully animated life.
Slow to anger, bad dancing bachelors with adventure on our minds and songs in our hearts; that's Popeye and me (I?).
I'm Popeye the Sailor Man
I'm Popeye the Sailor Man
I'm strong to the finich
Cause I eats me spinach
I'm Popeye the Sailor Man
I'm one tough gazookus
Which hates all palookas
Wot ain't on the up and square
I biffs 'em and buffs 'em
An' always outroughs 'em
An' none of 'em gets nowhere
If anyone dasses to risk me fisk
It's "boff" and its "wham", un'erstand
So, keep good behavior
That's your one life saver
With Popeye the Sailor Man.
Now let's be clear that I'm not running around punching out bad guys but I do eat a lot of spinach and if I had to I could, and probably would give Bluto a run for his money. ( after of course I've had all I can stands and I can't stands no more!)
But like a typical drunken sailor - not only would he not have any money - he would be no match for a sober one.
Cause that's all that I yam.
Love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( adventurouskly)*insert laugh
My bank has beefed up its' internet safety by asking prearranged "security questions" in order to log on; the answers to which are known by me alone.
In the interests of today's discussion I'm going to share my answer to one of those questions...."Who was your favorite childhood superhero?".
You would of course need additional information to access the vast riches languishing in my account, but please allow me to assure you that the risks and effort involved are far more vast than the reality of my balance which, like your chance of success, is closer to zero.
The fact that I am financially sparse however, is something of a clue to the answer!
I've been methodically and earnestly chipping away at the mountain of debt accumulated over years of spending like a drunken sailor.
Now there weren't any "drunk" superheroes in my childhood but there was a sailor who was heroic in every sense of the word.
Popeye, the humble self-effacing righter of wrongs who I raced home from school every day to watch on television remains influential in my life today, not just as a security question answer, but as a relatable character of timeless heroic virtue.
The parallels are eerie to the point that the question might just as well ask "What childhood superhero do you yet emulate?"
The Sailorman and I share a love of the sea, children, and troubled ( but exotically beautiful?) women.
We both enjoy a good hearty laugh and take liberties with the English language...often porpoisely!
Check yes for "bad hair" and tobacco use although I've never fancied the corncob pipe or the nautical look.
At one with nature, taking life in stride, mending nets on bad days and sailing on good ones are the hallmarks of my colorfully animated life.
Slow to anger, bad dancing bachelors with adventure on our minds and songs in our hearts; that's Popeye and me (I?).
I'm Popeye the Sailor Man
I'm Popeye the Sailor Man
I'm strong to the finich
Cause I eats me spinach
I'm Popeye the Sailor Man
I'm one tough gazookus
Which hates all palookas
Wot ain't on the up and square
I biffs 'em and buffs 'em
An' always outroughs 'em
An' none of 'em gets nowhere
If anyone dasses to risk me fisk
It's "boff" and its "wham", un'erstand
So, keep good behavior
That's your one life saver
With Popeye the Sailor Man.
Now let's be clear that I'm not running around punching out bad guys but I do eat a lot of spinach and if I had to I could, and probably would give Bluto a run for his money. ( after of course I've had all I can stands and I can't stands no more!)
But like a typical drunken sailor - not only would he not have any money - he would be no match for a sober one.
Cause that's all that I yam.
Love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( adventurouskly)*insert laugh
Monday, March 14, 2011
Put-ons #89
Morning Friend,
Having awoken later than I'd planned on this dull gray Monday morn, I was momentarily seized by a bout of angst the likes of which I hadn't felt since my boozing days.
Back then, a quick "sick call" to work followed by an even quicker couple of beers and all was well in my world, temporarily anyway.
These days however, minor distractions like angst, uncertainty, despair, dread and pretty much the whole gamut of self-limiting variations of fear get a caffeine-fueled boot in the arse by a man with too many reasons to be happy today and no excuses not to be.
Scoff all you want about the simple pushups and situps and cycling I do everyday, but when you are physically in "shape", you avail your mind a massively powerful and infinitely reliable machine with which to conquer the day's challenges....with style and aplomb I might add.
( and you don't look so bad trolling the boardwalk either !? )
And it is thusly at the helm of my pumped, rippled and caffeinated machine of prime physicality that I take a gander through my mental closet for something to wear today.
Let's see now....deliriously ecstatic?....no, too bold for a Monday certainly.
How about moderately giddy?....no, I think I'll save giddy for later in the week.
Extravagantly joyful?....didn't I wear that one just last week?
Oh the choices in mental fashion can be downright kerfuffling can't they?
My closet of contentment is about big enough to house 10 jumbo jets as there are about as many degrees of happiness to choose from as there are stars in the sky.
The racks and racks of dark and miserable outfits that don't fit any more I tried to give away but who wants them?
Who wants to be miserable?
Talk about a fashion faux pas extraordinaire!?.....wearing grumpy with gorgeous!? angry with hearty!? despairing with dynamic? sarcastic with svelte?
Calvin Freud would have a cat-walk quaking verklemption!
And so with a view towards humility and gratefulness for the fashion sensibility that I have been bestowed, I'm going with a demure but functional moderately joyful outfit of happy to be alive and healthy today, ( with a few light-hearted, bordering on comedic accessories).
It is the CHOICE, and the freedom to do so my friend that makes all the difference in the outlook we wear.
A bad outlook stands out worse than a bad suit.
Whether your heart is on your sleeve or not, isn't the fact that its' beat resounds with your precious and all too fragile life, reason enough to put on "something nice"?
The real Fashion Police are the people you'll interact with today and whose lives you can enrich with your spiritual haut couture.
And happiness is always in vogue.
Love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live (looking marvelous!)
Having awoken later than I'd planned on this dull gray Monday morn, I was momentarily seized by a bout of angst the likes of which I hadn't felt since my boozing days.
Back then, a quick "sick call" to work followed by an even quicker couple of beers and all was well in my world, temporarily anyway.
These days however, minor distractions like angst, uncertainty, despair, dread and pretty much the whole gamut of self-limiting variations of fear get a caffeine-fueled boot in the arse by a man with too many reasons to be happy today and no excuses not to be.
Scoff all you want about the simple pushups and situps and cycling I do everyday, but when you are physically in "shape", you avail your mind a massively powerful and infinitely reliable machine with which to conquer the day's challenges....with style and aplomb I might add.
( and you don't look so bad trolling the boardwalk either !? )
And it is thusly at the helm of my pumped, rippled and caffeinated machine of prime physicality that I take a gander through my mental closet for something to wear today.
Let's see now....deliriously ecstatic?....no, too bold for a Monday certainly.
How about moderately giddy?....no, I think I'll save giddy for later in the week.
Extravagantly joyful?....didn't I wear that one just last week?
Oh the choices in mental fashion can be downright kerfuffling can't they?
My closet of contentment is about big enough to house 10 jumbo jets as there are about as many degrees of happiness to choose from as there are stars in the sky.
The racks and racks of dark and miserable outfits that don't fit any more I tried to give away but who wants them?
Who wants to be miserable?
Talk about a fashion faux pas extraordinaire!?.....wearing grumpy with gorgeous!? angry with hearty!? despairing with dynamic? sarcastic with svelte?
Calvin Freud would have a cat-walk quaking verklemption!
And so with a view towards humility and gratefulness for the fashion sensibility that I have been bestowed, I'm going with a demure but functional moderately joyful outfit of happy to be alive and healthy today, ( with a few light-hearted, bordering on comedic accessories).
It is the CHOICE, and the freedom to do so my friend that makes all the difference in the outlook we wear.
A bad outlook stands out worse than a bad suit.
Whether your heart is on your sleeve or not, isn't the fact that its' beat resounds with your precious and all too fragile life, reason enough to put on "something nice"?
The real Fashion Police are the people you'll interact with today and whose lives you can enrich with your spiritual haut couture.
And happiness is always in vogue.
Love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live (looking marvelous!)
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Re-tread #88
Morning Friend,
Every now and then I do some designated driving duties for my friends and as one whose universe exists normally in a "how far away is it by bike" reality, the immediacy and fast pace of vehicular transport always leaves me saying, "I've got to get me one of these!".
Last weekend I drove a carload of revelers from the bar to a party halfway across town and then later after dropping everyone off at home I drove to another bar downtown to see my friend's band play until 2 after which within mere moments I was safely home.
Just a typical evening out to most folks, but to the unlimitedly patient cyclist and his limited range, it felt like a whirlwind adventure.
Such a journey never enters into the realm of two-wheeled options especially the part about the four passengers.
It's not like I haven't driven before - I used to drive all the time and everywhere, in varying states of inebriation, which is why of course I was forced to take up cycling in the first place.
It's been so long since I owned a car and drove regularly that the experience is once again novel.
And the nifty way that cars handle nowadays as opposed to the clunkering beaters I used to drive, makes it almost outer-worldly.
It's fun to drive....in many ways it's more fun than when I first drove as a nappy-headed sixteen year old, and way more fun than as an impaired 36 year old.
- I'm much more confident than I was as a fledgling driver
- I'm more competent surely than ever
- I have patience to spare which is a driver's best friend
- I am entrusted faithfully with the lives of beloved friends and family
- I appreciate the privilege as opposed to the "right" to drive
- I'm safer ( and un-stressed about being pulled over)
- I am a happier driver, because I am a happier person
I have always been fanatically ( bordering on freakishly) fond of driving so this new-found automotive ardor cannot be measured by absence alone.
Like so many other aspects of my life that have been overhauled with God as my co-pilot, the simple joy of driving a car is draped in a checkered flag of daily triumph.
The cherished freedoms I've discovered in sobriety - the range, depth and substance of traveling through life in efficient comfort - are personified by the similarly rewarding assets of a reliable automobile and apropos to one as wide of eye, broad of scope and deep of conviction as I.
How grand it is to be able to choose where I'll go and when I'll leave in the same breath as what kind of shape I'll be in when I get there!
How sublimely honorable it is to have another person put their keys, and their lives, into your hands.
While it is nicer to drive somewhere instead of walking, it's miles better than crawling.
love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( on Corinthian)
Every now and then I do some designated driving duties for my friends and as one whose universe exists normally in a "how far away is it by bike" reality, the immediacy and fast pace of vehicular transport always leaves me saying, "I've got to get me one of these!".
Last weekend I drove a carload of revelers from the bar to a party halfway across town and then later after dropping everyone off at home I drove to another bar downtown to see my friend's band play until 2 after which within mere moments I was safely home.
Just a typical evening out to most folks, but to the unlimitedly patient cyclist and his limited range, it felt like a whirlwind adventure.
Such a journey never enters into the realm of two-wheeled options especially the part about the four passengers.
It's not like I haven't driven before - I used to drive all the time and everywhere, in varying states of inebriation, which is why of course I was forced to take up cycling in the first place.
It's been so long since I owned a car and drove regularly that the experience is once again novel.
And the nifty way that cars handle nowadays as opposed to the clunkering beaters I used to drive, makes it almost outer-worldly.
It's fun to drive....in many ways it's more fun than when I first drove as a nappy-headed sixteen year old, and way more fun than as an impaired 36 year old.
- I'm much more confident than I was as a fledgling driver
- I'm more competent surely than ever
- I have patience to spare which is a driver's best friend
- I am entrusted faithfully with the lives of beloved friends and family
- I appreciate the privilege as opposed to the "right" to drive
- I'm safer ( and un-stressed about being pulled over)
- I am a happier driver, because I am a happier person
I have always been fanatically ( bordering on freakishly) fond of driving so this new-found automotive ardor cannot be measured by absence alone.
Like so many other aspects of my life that have been overhauled with God as my co-pilot, the simple joy of driving a car is draped in a checkered flag of daily triumph.
The cherished freedoms I've discovered in sobriety - the range, depth and substance of traveling through life in efficient comfort - are personified by the similarly rewarding assets of a reliable automobile and apropos to one as wide of eye, broad of scope and deep of conviction as I.
How grand it is to be able to choose where I'll go and when I'll leave in the same breath as what kind of shape I'll be in when I get there!
How sublimely honorable it is to have another person put their keys, and their lives, into your hands.
While it is nicer to drive somewhere instead of walking, it's miles better than crawling.
love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( on Corinthian)
Monday, February 28, 2011
Mid-Stream #87
Morning Friend,
We've all heard of the "boomers" and and the "gen x"ers and whys and wherefores and whatsits of society's ever-changing demographics.
It is our nature to all the time label things.
And that's all fine and well with a compartmentalizing kind of guy like me.
It's somehow comforting to know who and where I am especially in the dizzying splendor of this beautiful life I'm in the midst of.
Or to be more specific; the "mid" of.
No, I'm not going down "crisis alley" today my friend.
I'm schooled enough in crisis management by now to give short shrift to such trivialities as lamenting how much of my life is past in relation to Science's best guess as to how much might be left.
I sympathize with those who are genuinely saddened and unfulfilled at the so-called middle of their lives but as one who sees each day as a bonus I never thought I'd get, I just don't see the point in getting worked up about too much else.
So for the sake of numerical argument and correct product identification, it can be said that I have reached "middle age".
You'll have to forgive me if instead of a crisis I have a celebration.
Today, due to some positive lifestyle changes I implemented a few years ago - to my nieces' delight (and the consternation of the odd "fuddy-dud") - I feel like a kid!
It's not something I take for granted because I'm quite fortunate not to have seriously harmed myself over years of self-abuse.
It's not something I'm not grateful to God for because so much of what I've been given is simply miraculous.
It's not something that came natural or easy because physical well being - and even prowess - at "my age" requires an extra degree of attention to diet and exercise.
And it's not something unique to me because the overall mental, spiritual and physical condition of this demographic in society is at an all time high.
I know LOTS of people who look after themselves and are just as sharp and energetic as they were as children.
The bulbs of human life are burning brighter...longer, which has economists, social scientists and demographic labelers in a quandary.
What of this huge number of unrelentingly "youthful" and vibrant individuals turning 65 yet still "stoked" running amok in a world brimming with jobs and opportunities left by the heretofore retired or deceased?
Will "Seniors" still be an applicable moniker for a bunch of "post-hippie", "mid-grunge", "pre-rap" hooligans still partying like it's 1999....in 2025?
"Senior" from a chronological standpoint certainly but the word evokes far too much sepia-toned imagery for this new generation of geriatrics.
It seems to me this burgeoning compartment could well use a somewhat uplifting upgrade in terminology?
If I should be so lucky, if the Good Lord be willing and my flesh not weaken, as to grab even a quick bite at the Golden Years Cafe, it is my sincere wish to get the TEEN-IORS Discount!?
love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( abundantly)
We've all heard of the "boomers" and and the "gen x"ers and whys and wherefores and whatsits of society's ever-changing demographics.
It is our nature to all the time label things.
And that's all fine and well with a compartmentalizing kind of guy like me.
It's somehow comforting to know who and where I am especially in the dizzying splendor of this beautiful life I'm in the midst of.
Or to be more specific; the "mid" of.
No, I'm not going down "crisis alley" today my friend.
I'm schooled enough in crisis management by now to give short shrift to such trivialities as lamenting how much of my life is past in relation to Science's best guess as to how much might be left.
I sympathize with those who are genuinely saddened and unfulfilled at the so-called middle of their lives but as one who sees each day as a bonus I never thought I'd get, I just don't see the point in getting worked up about too much else.
So for the sake of numerical argument and correct product identification, it can be said that I have reached "middle age".
You'll have to forgive me if instead of a crisis I have a celebration.
Today, due to some positive lifestyle changes I implemented a few years ago - to my nieces' delight (and the consternation of the odd "fuddy-dud") - I feel like a kid!
It's not something I take for granted because I'm quite fortunate not to have seriously harmed myself over years of self-abuse.
It's not something I'm not grateful to God for because so much of what I've been given is simply miraculous.
It's not something that came natural or easy because physical well being - and even prowess - at "my age" requires an extra degree of attention to diet and exercise.
And it's not something unique to me because the overall mental, spiritual and physical condition of this demographic in society is at an all time high.
I know LOTS of people who look after themselves and are just as sharp and energetic as they were as children.
The bulbs of human life are burning brighter...longer, which has economists, social scientists and demographic labelers in a quandary.
What of this huge number of unrelentingly "youthful" and vibrant individuals turning 65 yet still "stoked" running amok in a world brimming with jobs and opportunities left by the heretofore retired or deceased?
Will "Seniors" still be an applicable moniker for a bunch of "post-hippie", "mid-grunge", "pre-rap" hooligans still partying like it's 1999....in 2025?
"Senior" from a chronological standpoint certainly but the word evokes far too much sepia-toned imagery for this new generation of geriatrics.
It seems to me this burgeoning compartment could well use a somewhat uplifting upgrade in terminology?
If I should be so lucky, if the Good Lord be willing and my flesh not weaken, as to grab even a quick bite at the Golden Years Cafe, it is my sincere wish to get the TEEN-IORS Discount!?
love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( abundantly)
Monday, February 21, 2011
HOT Stuff #86
Morning Friend,
The proverbial light bulb of an idea for today's discussion came to me from an un-blanketed foot hanging over the side of my waterbed.
It wasn't a delicately painted lady's foot, for that might certainly have forestalled my creative processes significantly; from a literary standpoint at any rate.
Since the foot was at the end of my own leg and the toes felt like they were painted with frost, I assumed the fetal position while the remarkably efficient heating machine of my body warmed the errant appendage.
It didn't take long of course given the heavy quilt, and as slumber's sweet return was soon being accompanied by a grateful lullaby of gratitude for the little heater chugging along mere inches beneath me and "Teddy" , I waxed nostalgically for a moment, to a time long ago when it would have been just me, the quilt and a stuffed bear, without a heated bed.
It isn't so long ago that I have to dredge the memory banks too deeply to recall the pre-sleep ritual of frantically sliding into a cold bed and earnestly "cocooning" until shivering tremors subsided enough for the Sandman to do his work... and before his shovel is back in the pail your bed is warm as....let's just say it's ready for butter and jam!
As someone with less than a layman's understanding of exothermic reactions, metabolic processes, circulatory systems and other scientific explanations for our body's ability to produce heat, I am curiously amazed by it, ( to the point of leaping from an electronically enhanced, heated doze and into the freezing fray of Museful meandering).
Our bodies are very similar to machines, in terms of the care and maintenance they require and the incredible physiological feats they perform, like heat production.
Even while asleep, the body "furnace" emits 250 btus of heat energy - plenty enough to keep toast, and your toes warm under the blankets as it amounts to the same as curling up to a nice 75 watt light bulb.
Awake but sitting idly ( as I am on the rarest of occasions), that number increases to 400 btus or 120 watts.
Moderate exercise ( or "work" for us in the blue collar crowd) can stoke that furnace up to 650 btus ( 190 watts).
The figure for heavy exertion such as riding your bike through heavy snow ( as so happens to be one of my more challenging Winter endeavors), goes a long way towards explaining how such activity is possible in the bitter cold, and how I manage even to break a sweat when it's minus 40.
Underneath my layers of outwear is not just a finely chiseled though slightly awkward musculoskeletal marvel, but a very high-efficiency human furnace pumping out 2400 btus ( 7x100 watt light bulbs! ) of long-john stoking warmth.
Kind of makes you wish there was a stationary bike at the bus stop doesn't it? ( and hopefully someone with dainty painted toes keeping the bed warm :)
But most interesting to me in all of this was based on the fact the industry standard for furnace size is 30-35 btus per square foot.
The human body at approximately 13 square feet, thus requires about 400 btus, which I have already stated is exactly what we're equipped with.
It is ALL as I suspected.
God is a furnace man.
And my brother Gray ( the furnace man) is, a "God"!
love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( thermally)
The proverbial light bulb of an idea for today's discussion came to me from an un-blanketed foot hanging over the side of my waterbed.
It wasn't a delicately painted lady's foot, for that might certainly have forestalled my creative processes significantly; from a literary standpoint at any rate.
Since the foot was at the end of my own leg and the toes felt like they were painted with frost, I assumed the fetal position while the remarkably efficient heating machine of my body warmed the errant appendage.
It didn't take long of course given the heavy quilt, and as slumber's sweet return was soon being accompanied by a grateful lullaby of gratitude for the little heater chugging along mere inches beneath me and "Teddy" , I waxed nostalgically for a moment, to a time long ago when it would have been just me, the quilt and a stuffed bear, without a heated bed.
It isn't so long ago that I have to dredge the memory banks too deeply to recall the pre-sleep ritual of frantically sliding into a cold bed and earnestly "cocooning" until shivering tremors subsided enough for the Sandman to do his work... and before his shovel is back in the pail your bed is warm as....let's just say it's ready for butter and jam!
As someone with less than a layman's understanding of exothermic reactions, metabolic processes, circulatory systems and other scientific explanations for our body's ability to produce heat, I am curiously amazed by it, ( to the point of leaping from an electronically enhanced, heated doze and into the freezing fray of Museful meandering).
Our bodies are very similar to machines, in terms of the care and maintenance they require and the incredible physiological feats they perform, like heat production.
Even while asleep, the body "furnace" emits 250 btus of heat energy - plenty enough to keep toast, and your toes warm under the blankets as it amounts to the same as curling up to a nice 75 watt light bulb.
Awake but sitting idly ( as I am on the rarest of occasions), that number increases to 400 btus or 120 watts.
Moderate exercise ( or "work" for us in the blue collar crowd) can stoke that furnace up to 650 btus ( 190 watts).
The figure for heavy exertion such as riding your bike through heavy snow ( as so happens to be one of my more challenging Winter endeavors), goes a long way towards explaining how such activity is possible in the bitter cold, and how I manage even to break a sweat when it's minus 40.
Underneath my layers of outwear is not just a finely chiseled though slightly awkward musculoskeletal marvel, but a very high-efficiency human furnace pumping out 2400 btus ( 7x100 watt light bulbs! ) of long-john stoking warmth.
Kind of makes you wish there was a stationary bike at the bus stop doesn't it? ( and hopefully someone with dainty painted toes keeping the bed warm :)
But most interesting to me in all of this was based on the fact the industry standard for furnace size is 30-35 btus per square foot.
The human body at approximately 13 square feet, thus requires about 400 btus, which I have already stated is exactly what we're equipped with.
It is ALL as I suspected.
God is a furnace man.
And my brother Gray ( the furnace man) is, a "God"!
love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( thermally)
Monday, February 14, 2011
Valen-whine #85
Morning Friend,
"Roses are red, Violets are..."
Blue is how many single and dateless souls are feeling today on Valentine's Day.
If you aren't single, but have forgotten that today is the year's BIG romantic event, then come on down and join me in the "blues pool"....the water is just fine, especially if you like yours icy-cold and bucket-administered.
Or I could come visit you in the dog house and we could cynically rail at the crass commercialism and shallow marketing sham of it all.
This tremendous boon for chocolatiers, florists, greeting card companies, restaurateurs, and pharmacists ( who sell more Viagra in the week leading up to today than every other week of the year), finds many bachelor-types feeling a little limp-spirited today.
Behind this mid-winter gift exchange and sharing of chemically-induced passion, is for some a sad reminder of their isolation.
The candy and chocolate hearts lining the store shelves are not broken ones.
The broken promises of yesterday have left many a mortal cardiac wound in their wake.
But as I have found along my own self-made solitary road, there is more to this day than some financially-faced affirmation of affection.
It is a none-too gentle reminder of the hard work, faith and trust and genuine commitment that goes into making "true love", true.
Unfettered and relentless, genuine love needs not of philanthropic finery nor pharmaceutical finagling.
It is natural....as natural as a....( you know!!!!)
I have basked in the warmth of love's blazing splendor but with an exhale of drunken breath did I extinguish its' flame.
My focus today and all days, isn't about not having a special someone to buy a flower for.
It's about continuing along the Good Lord's path and becoming someone special and worthy of sharing the light of true love with another.
It's about becoming a flower.
( a real one of course)
love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( in bloom)
"Roses are red, Violets are..."
Blue is how many single and dateless souls are feeling today on Valentine's Day.
If you aren't single, but have forgotten that today is the year's BIG romantic event, then come on down and join me in the "blues pool"....the water is just fine, especially if you like yours icy-cold and bucket-administered.
Or I could come visit you in the dog house and we could cynically rail at the crass commercialism and shallow marketing sham of it all.
This tremendous boon for chocolatiers, florists, greeting card companies, restaurateurs, and pharmacists ( who sell more Viagra in the week leading up to today than every other week of the year), finds many bachelor-types feeling a little limp-spirited today.
Behind this mid-winter gift exchange and sharing of chemically-induced passion, is for some a sad reminder of their isolation.
The candy and chocolate hearts lining the store shelves are not broken ones.
The broken promises of yesterday have left many a mortal cardiac wound in their wake.
But as I have found along my own self-made solitary road, there is more to this day than some financially-faced affirmation of affection.
It is a none-too gentle reminder of the hard work, faith and trust and genuine commitment that goes into making "true love", true.
Unfettered and relentless, genuine love needs not of philanthropic finery nor pharmaceutical finagling.
It is natural....as natural as a....( you know!!!!)
I have basked in the warmth of love's blazing splendor but with an exhale of drunken breath did I extinguish its' flame.
My focus today and all days, isn't about not having a special someone to buy a flower for.
It's about continuing along the Good Lord's path and becoming someone special and worthy of sharing the light of true love with another.
It's about becoming a flower.
( a real one of course)
love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( in bloom)
Monday, February 7, 2011
Whetherman #84
Morning Friend,
Some buffoon came walking through the locker room at work last week trumpeting the fact that the abnormally nice Spring-like weather we were enjoying - in late January! - was not going to last and more bitter cold was on the way.
Now I have patience aplenty these days...it's part and parcel of the whole "Serenity" thing.
You know, "...accept the things I cannot change...", like the weather for instance.
I get that. I might grumble a bit as I'm accepting this morning's fact that old "locker room Nostradamus" was right and therefore I'm "...changing the things I can...", like into long underwear again.
But last week, unencumbered as I was by the need for such Arctic garmentry, and more than slightly a-swoon with pre-Spring fever as a result, I could not hold my tongue.
"MUST you tarnish the beauty of this marvelous TODAY with your dire "predictions" that themselves may or may not happen?!?", I queried loudly. ( I may have included an unflattering epithet directed at the weather service if I'm not mistaken.)
"Yeah but...", the poor fellow's smugness melted as his "town crying" had obviously fallen on the wrong ears; mine.
I had just arrived from a delightfully slushy ride to work with a lungful of fragrant air instead of the usual scarf-filtered ice crystals and was in no mood for this Negative Nelly's nattering.
Part of me - the Serene part - said, "let it go Tim...he likes to hear himself talk...he's not too bright...he doesn't realize that the weather forecast is easily available to all in this technologically advanced age and that even if it weren't, nobody had put their winter coats away because of a warm spell in January...leave him be...you can't CHANGE him!".
The other part of me - the Courageous part - said "You might not be able to change the man's delusion that he's the only one of 4.000 employees who follows weather patterns, but you just may be able to clue him in on a thing or two you've discovered about the untold richness of life's silver linings and the joy of living day-to-day".
So I asked him, "Why are you telling me that it's going to turn cold again in four days? Should I just bundle up tight and wait? Is there anything I can do to prevent it?? What if I die before then? What about if it's cold but not super-cold? What about in three hundred and sixty-four days...is it going to be REALLY cold then too????".
"What about the freakishly nice gift-with-a-sunny-bow-from-God-on-it TODAY!?!", I asked.
"Well, today is just over ten months away from the Mayan calendar's end of the world," he replied.
"Going to be a cold one I imagine?", I asked.
"Wear an extra sweater," he said
"Thanks." ( Serenity now.)
love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as much as you live (patiently)
Some buffoon came walking through the locker room at work last week trumpeting the fact that the abnormally nice Spring-like weather we were enjoying - in late January! - was not going to last and more bitter cold was on the way.
Now I have patience aplenty these days...it's part and parcel of the whole "Serenity" thing.
You know, "...accept the things I cannot change...", like the weather for instance.
I get that. I might grumble a bit as I'm accepting this morning's fact that old "locker room Nostradamus" was right and therefore I'm "...changing the things I can...", like into long underwear again.
But last week, unencumbered as I was by the need for such Arctic garmentry, and more than slightly a-swoon with pre-Spring fever as a result, I could not hold my tongue.
"MUST you tarnish the beauty of this marvelous TODAY with your dire "predictions" that themselves may or may not happen?!?", I queried loudly. ( I may have included an unflattering epithet directed at the weather service if I'm not mistaken.)
"Yeah but...", the poor fellow's smugness melted as his "town crying" had obviously fallen on the wrong ears; mine.
I had just arrived from a delightfully slushy ride to work with a lungful of fragrant air instead of the usual scarf-filtered ice crystals and was in no mood for this Negative Nelly's nattering.
Part of me - the Serene part - said, "let it go Tim...he likes to hear himself talk...he's not too bright...he doesn't realize that the weather forecast is easily available to all in this technologically advanced age and that even if it weren't, nobody had put their winter coats away because of a warm spell in January...leave him be...you can't CHANGE him!".
The other part of me - the Courageous part - said "You might not be able to change the man's delusion that he's the only one of 4.000 employees who follows weather patterns, but you just may be able to clue him in on a thing or two you've discovered about the untold richness of life's silver linings and the joy of living day-to-day".
So I asked him, "Why are you telling me that it's going to turn cold again in four days? Should I just bundle up tight and wait? Is there anything I can do to prevent it?? What if I die before then? What about if it's cold but not super-cold? What about in three hundred and sixty-four days...is it going to be REALLY cold then too????".
"What about the freakishly nice gift-with-a-sunny-bow-from-God-on-it TODAY!?!", I asked.
"Well, today is just over ten months away from the Mayan calendar's end of the world," he replied.
"Going to be a cold one I imagine?", I asked.
"Wear an extra sweater," he said
"Thanks." ( Serenity now.)
love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as much as you live (patiently)
Monday, January 17, 2011
ALL Inclusive #83
Morning Friend,
I have found that the best vacation is one that takes you as far away from the humdrum of your everyday existence as possible....a "reality makeover" if you will.
This is why Winter getaways are so popular amongst us denizens of the frozen north.
Just the dramatic difference in temperature - from minus 30 to plus 30 - is enough to turn humdrums into giant kettle drums booming to the heartbeat of your magical getaway!
The "all-inclusive" option makes it even more magical because it allows one to completely eschew the minutiae of day-to-day living and to focus simply on having FUN!
If your idea of fun includes grocery shopping and cooking then your Therapist or Mental Health worker has probably already nixed the "all-inclusive" option for you. ( Your days are already "fun-filled"!?)
Being pampered and coddled in a four star tropical adult day-care setting - while decadently delightful as it is - can be exorbitantly expensive.
However if you have loving parents as I do, who don't mind "keeping house" as an economically prudent way to holiday in the Caribbean for extended Winter periods, then my friend your "Best" vacation awaits.
Welcome to Grace and Jerry's Barbados' Leisure World! ( and Timmy's Fantasy Island!)
I won't go into the Utopian wiles of Barbados.... today's Muse would take on "Michener-esque" proportions, but I will say that I have spent some ideally idyllic sabbaticals sharing room and board, and Paradise, with Mom and Dad.
"Pop"'s innate joy and skill in the kitchen combined with Mother's larder management prowess allow me - and other fortunate flown-in family members - to mindlessly luxuriate in equatorial splendor.
"Shall I go to the pool or the beach?" is the one and only pressing issue I must wrangle on any given day.
My fashion option ( now that the Speed-o is "out") is limited to a pair of shorts.
It is a hedonist's haven of:
"I am hot, I shall get wet."
"I have finished reading this book, I shall read another."
"I am tired, I shall take a nap."
"I am hungry, it is almost lunch time...good."
But the "all" in this "all-inclusive" is more than the amenities of convenience.
It is the harmony and togetherness that doesn't seem as common these days, but which has always been a tradition in our blessed family; born out of necessity in a 7 children household you might say.
It is the opportunity to share precious time and memories with those whose bond of love includes you, whose Faith in God defines you, whose dedication inspires you, and whose sense of humor encourages you.
Any time spent anywhere with the easy-going Lawrences falls easily into the category of "away from the humdrum of everyday existence".
When it so happens to be in Barbados in the Winter, you have yourself the ingredients for a very fine and remarkably inexpensive vacation that you'll cherish for a lifetime.
(So long as you don't mind taking your turn at the dishes.)
"The PLANE Boss!!!!....let's hope it's full of PAPER PLATES!!!!"
love tImMy:/
* booking now for 2012 :)
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( time sharing)
I have found that the best vacation is one that takes you as far away from the humdrum of your everyday existence as possible....a "reality makeover" if you will.
This is why Winter getaways are so popular amongst us denizens of the frozen north.
Just the dramatic difference in temperature - from minus 30 to plus 30 - is enough to turn humdrums into giant kettle drums booming to the heartbeat of your magical getaway!
The "all-inclusive" option makes it even more magical because it allows one to completely eschew the minutiae of day-to-day living and to focus simply on having FUN!
If your idea of fun includes grocery shopping and cooking then your Therapist or Mental Health worker has probably already nixed the "all-inclusive" option for you. ( Your days are already "fun-filled"!?)
Being pampered and coddled in a four star tropical adult day-care setting - while decadently delightful as it is - can be exorbitantly expensive.
However if you have loving parents as I do, who don't mind "keeping house" as an economically prudent way to holiday in the Caribbean for extended Winter periods, then my friend your "Best" vacation awaits.
Welcome to Grace and Jerry's Barbados' Leisure World! ( and Timmy's Fantasy Island!)
I won't go into the Utopian wiles of Barbados.... today's Muse would take on "Michener-esque" proportions, but I will say that I have spent some ideally idyllic sabbaticals sharing room and board, and Paradise, with Mom and Dad.
"Pop"'s innate joy and skill in the kitchen combined with Mother's larder management prowess allow me - and other fortunate flown-in family members - to mindlessly luxuriate in equatorial splendor.
"Shall I go to the pool or the beach?" is the one and only pressing issue I must wrangle on any given day.
My fashion option ( now that the Speed-o is "out") is limited to a pair of shorts.
It is a hedonist's haven of:
"I am hot, I shall get wet."
"I have finished reading this book, I shall read another."
"I am tired, I shall take a nap."
"I am hungry, it is almost lunch time...good."
But the "all" in this "all-inclusive" is more than the amenities of convenience.
It is the harmony and togetherness that doesn't seem as common these days, but which has always been a tradition in our blessed family; born out of necessity in a 7 children household you might say.
It is the opportunity to share precious time and memories with those whose bond of love includes you, whose Faith in God defines you, whose dedication inspires you, and whose sense of humor encourages you.
Any time spent anywhere with the easy-going Lawrences falls easily into the category of "away from the humdrum of everyday existence".
When it so happens to be in Barbados in the Winter, you have yourself the ingredients for a very fine and remarkably inexpensive vacation that you'll cherish for a lifetime.
(So long as you don't mind taking your turn at the dishes.)
"The PLANE Boss!!!!....let's hope it's full of PAPER PLATES!!!!"
love tImMy:/
* booking now for 2012 :)
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( time sharing)
Monday, January 10, 2011
"Heaven..." #82
Morning Friend,
Feeling a little "hellish" on this fine frosty Monday?
Let's skip to 1935 shall we and take a listen to Fred Astaire "styling up" Ginger Rogers in the movie "Top Hat".
"Heaven, I'm in Heaven...and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak....".
Written by the legendary American composer Irving Berlin, it is a classic song - you may have heard pop up in contemporary movie soundtracks such as "The Green Mile" or "The English Patient"- personifying Mankind's everlasting endeavors at personifying the concept of everlasting bliss we refer to as "Heaven".
As the lyrics suggest, a dancer's vision of Paradise features a romantic spin on the dance floor with a like-minded, light-footed and fair-featured gal: "....and I seem to find the happiness I seek, when we're out together dancing cheek to cheek ".
Mr. Berlin has nicely rhymed "speak, seek and cheek" and with its' delightful melody the song evokes pleasing thoughts of Earthly rapture.
This song comes into my head, a lot.
Not because I'm an "old movie" buff and not because my vision of the hereafter includes a pearly dance floor - or Ginger Rogers.
My perception of Heaven is that it's not a whole heck of a lot different than the ever-wondrous movie I've been cast in here on earth; a romantic musical-comedy about a young man, ( a poor dancer with bad hair reborn through sobriety and spirituality) whose quest for peace, love, harmony and a sweet fishing spot takes him on many a madcap and zany adventure!
The sets in this "extravaganza" are breathtakingly magnificent and the cast of thousands is replete with characters of every ilk.
Because the script places me in several divine situations and in the presence of so many angelic individuals it only stands to reason that the soundtrack should include something "after-worldly"?
You're in in this flick too my friend so sing along with me now.... the Director is cuing up another number.....
( with apologies Irving...)
"Heaven, I'm in Heaven....and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak;
though Monday's not the favorite of the week,
we're one day closer to eating pickerel cheeks!
love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( Paradisiacal)
Feeling a little "hellish" on this fine frosty Monday?
Let's skip to 1935 shall we and take a listen to Fred Astaire "styling up" Ginger Rogers in the movie "Top Hat".
"Heaven, I'm in Heaven...and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak....".
Written by the legendary American composer Irving Berlin, it is a classic song - you may have heard pop up in contemporary movie soundtracks such as "The Green Mile" or "The English Patient"- personifying Mankind's everlasting endeavors at personifying the concept of everlasting bliss we refer to as "Heaven".
As the lyrics suggest, a dancer's vision of Paradise features a romantic spin on the dance floor with a like-minded, light-footed and fair-featured gal: "....and I seem to find the happiness I seek, when we're out together dancing cheek to cheek ".
Mr. Berlin has nicely rhymed "speak, seek and cheek" and with its' delightful melody the song evokes pleasing thoughts of Earthly rapture.
This song comes into my head, a lot.
Not because I'm an "old movie" buff and not because my vision of the hereafter includes a pearly dance floor - or Ginger Rogers.
My perception of Heaven is that it's not a whole heck of a lot different than the ever-wondrous movie I've been cast in here on earth; a romantic musical-comedy about a young man, ( a poor dancer with bad hair reborn through sobriety and spirituality) whose quest for peace, love, harmony and a sweet fishing spot takes him on many a madcap and zany adventure!
The sets in this "extravaganza" are breathtakingly magnificent and the cast of thousands is replete with characters of every ilk.
Because the script places me in several divine situations and in the presence of so many angelic individuals it only stands to reason that the soundtrack should include something "after-worldly"?
You're in in this flick too my friend so sing along with me now.... the Director is cuing up another number.....
( with apologies Irving...)
"Heaven, I'm in Heaven....and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak;
though Monday's not the favorite of the week,
we're one day closer to eating pickerel cheeks!
love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( Paradisiacal)
Monday, January 3, 2011
Krazy Heart #81
Happy New Year Friend,
Yesterday was only the second day of 2011 and I had what can only be described as the first "magical" moment of the New Year.
As luck would have it, it was my turn to work this past weekend and the "moment" I speak of might have passed me by were it not for the fact that I am always on high alert for distress when I am on the job.
The layman visiting a sick friend or relative at St. Boniface Hospital probably gives short shrift to the drone of the announced "codes" and pages over the intercom, but to employees they are a constant reminder that the precarious stage upon which we perform our duties features a script written seemingly by a madman on the fly.
It is drama of the highest "life and death" order really; with some mystery, plenty of surprise twists, tragedy and triumph galore, an undertone of love and romance, humor ( dark-ish?), and of course a plethora of miracles and MAGIC.
I'm now in my 29th year at the that House of Horrors and Wonder and aside from the incalculable debt of gratitude I owe the place for providing the incentive to change - and save - my life, I happen to be one the many people you will find who LOVE working there.
Yes it can be ugly....downright nasty really, and so sad your heart ends up being more Krazy Glue that actual heart tissue.
But many like I, THRIVE in that Arena of Mayhem because it is an endless source of gratitude and satisfaction; the glue that mends a broken but dauntless caring heart.
How many "thank you"s do you hear in an average day my friend?
Well unless you're the bartender on "Free Beer Night" or just standing on a street corner giving away money, you will not feel nearly as appreciated as you will providing help to the helpless.
I'm not involved in direct patient care on the wards these days but over the years I must have said "You're welcome!" about 3/4 of a million times ( I did the math! ), for everything from "Thanks for the ice water" to "Thanks for making my Mom's last days so comfortable".
My present-day housekeeping duties at St.B are considerably less demanding and infinitely less stressful than they were as an "aide", but my oft-repaired heart no less delights in contributing to MY hospital's reputation as a place where compassion is King, smiles are free and the "extra" mile is every one.
I had just rolled my mop and pail onto the "beehive" known as the intensive care surgical unit yesterday morning when an old withered hand beckoned me from the first bed.
There amidst the usual array of tubes, lines and monitors - and the ambient noise of a video arcade - lay a frail little lady trembling fearfully; in a state not unexpected I should say, of disorientation.
I don't know if she thought she knew me or if she was just flat out afraid and thought I looked like someone who could help but I did know that my expertly incomparable floor cleaning was about to be put on pause.
I set aside my mop, removed my work gloves and with a smile I took her warm parchment-like hand carefully in mine and said, "Everything is just FINE my dear....don't you worry about a thing...you're in the BEST of hands.....".
In but a moment her features relaxed and a thin smile acknowledged my "....Happy New Year".
As I turned to fetch my mop she hailed me once again until I was close enough to hear her mouth those magical words, "thank you".
The ward clerk at the nearby desk who had witnessed the exchange, warmly said to me a few minutes later, "You'd make a good Health Care Aide Tim!"
You'd have to be Krazy.
love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( mAgically)
Yesterday was only the second day of 2011 and I had what can only be described as the first "magical" moment of the New Year.
As luck would have it, it was my turn to work this past weekend and the "moment" I speak of might have passed me by were it not for the fact that I am always on high alert for distress when I am on the job.
The layman visiting a sick friend or relative at St. Boniface Hospital probably gives short shrift to the drone of the announced "codes" and pages over the intercom, but to employees they are a constant reminder that the precarious stage upon which we perform our duties features a script written seemingly by a madman on the fly.
It is drama of the highest "life and death" order really; with some mystery, plenty of surprise twists, tragedy and triumph galore, an undertone of love and romance, humor ( dark-ish?), and of course a plethora of miracles and MAGIC.
I'm now in my 29th year at the that House of Horrors and Wonder and aside from the incalculable debt of gratitude I owe the place for providing the incentive to change - and save - my life, I happen to be one the many people you will find who LOVE working there.
Yes it can be ugly....downright nasty really, and so sad your heart ends up being more Krazy Glue that actual heart tissue.
But many like I, THRIVE in that Arena of Mayhem because it is an endless source of gratitude and satisfaction; the glue that mends a broken but dauntless caring heart.
How many "thank you"s do you hear in an average day my friend?
Well unless you're the bartender on "Free Beer Night" or just standing on a street corner giving away money, you will not feel nearly as appreciated as you will providing help to the helpless.
I'm not involved in direct patient care on the wards these days but over the years I must have said "You're welcome!" about 3/4 of a million times ( I did the math! ), for everything from "Thanks for the ice water" to "Thanks for making my Mom's last days so comfortable".
My present-day housekeeping duties at St.B are considerably less demanding and infinitely less stressful than they were as an "aide", but my oft-repaired heart no less delights in contributing to MY hospital's reputation as a place where compassion is King, smiles are free and the "extra" mile is every one.
I had just rolled my mop and pail onto the "beehive" known as the intensive care surgical unit yesterday morning when an old withered hand beckoned me from the first bed.
There amidst the usual array of tubes, lines and monitors - and the ambient noise of a video arcade - lay a frail little lady trembling fearfully; in a state not unexpected I should say, of disorientation.
I don't know if she thought she knew me or if she was just flat out afraid and thought I looked like someone who could help but I did know that my expertly incomparable floor cleaning was about to be put on pause.
I set aside my mop, removed my work gloves and with a smile I took her warm parchment-like hand carefully in mine and said, "Everything is just FINE my dear....don't you worry about a thing...you're in the BEST of hands.....".
In but a moment her features relaxed and a thin smile acknowledged my "....Happy New Year".
As I turned to fetch my mop she hailed me once again until I was close enough to hear her mouth those magical words, "thank you".
The ward clerk at the nearby desk who had witnessed the exchange, warmly said to me a few minutes later, "You'd make a good Health Care Aide Tim!"
You'd have to be Krazy.
love tImMy:/
Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( mAgically)
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