ROADBLOCKS OR DETOURS?

Some of you have remarked “Leslie, have I missed one of your blogs?”

My old computer died. And with it all my important pontifications! It has taken me this long NOT to get a new computer and have it installed BUT to learn my new computer’s ways. I lost some of my work. I was blocked from working on the old story. I had to summon my village of computer people to figure out how to get around the problem or find a new way of telling my story.

We are all going to encounter roadblocks and detours. How do you distinguish between the two? And what to do when we face them. It comes down to choice. Our choice.

Losing much of my work left me devastated. It also left me frozen in place. I don’t think it is a coincidence that it was during Hurricane Florence. When there was REAL devastation everywhere. You know that clever little God of ours choosing to remain anonymous again.

“What’s your problem, girlie? I gave you the ability to buy a new computer. And I gave you a whole village of computer nerds. (I mean GREAT friends who know all about the computer). And time off from work because of Florence. And I gave you that brain of yours. So use it. CREATE.  I have bigger problems.” HE knew Michael was coming.

We’re just poor little humans after all. We tend to get freaked out by roadblocks. We have to detour and we don’t like it. Who do we think we are challenging God’s direction?  A detour can lead us to a fascinating discovery. A better way of opening a new novel. But we need to look around first.  Once we look around we may discover all sorts of things. Like a fun new place or a way of making a character more likable. Or we could just discover fields of sunflowers. Or notice the beautiful fall foliage. Or to chat with God and ask for forgiveness for being such a backseat driver. It may be a much-needed respite for our feeble brains. Consider it your moment of zen.

Pay attention. Detours are just around the corner. We can learn from them or stay frozen in place.

What if a detour has placed us on the path we were supposed to be on in the first place?

#EnjoyYourLife

Leslie XO

Some of you may wonder what “piddling” means. According to the dictionary, one definition is “the wasting of time”. I am not one to argue with Mr. Webster but on this particular matter I must respectfully disagree. It’s Summer. I think it is a perfect time to discover your inner “piddler”. Because if you can’t piddle in the lazy days of summer when can you piddle and get away with it? I hear you screaming… How about rainy days! Snow days! You are SO smart!

Attribution of this fine concept must be paid to my friend. She takes Wednesdays off each week as her “piddle” day. Lest you think it is just staying in your pajamas all day and doing nothing. It is not… necessarily. For my friend, she just wakes up a little later, takes a day off from the gym, and then she visits her mom and runs important errands. But she may have an extra cup of coffee first.

I got to thinking about the piddle concept when she told me about her Wednesdays. She stays pretty busy but maybe on Wednesday she does everything in second gear. She still gets it all done.

My version of piddling takes hold on the weekends. I do not set my alarm clock. I do not go to my beloved gym. And I hang out in my nightgown and bathrobe until it is time to go get my hair done. Not only have I embraced the fine art of piddling, I think I have actually mastered it. One of the few things I feel competent that I’ve actually mastered.

Some of you type A personalities are asking, is there any scientific support for this concept? I know who you are. You are acai eating, green tea, antioxidant loving people who can only get behind something if it has some beneficial component.

I cannot be certain of the scientific benefits to piddling. I DID try to Google it. What is wrong with actually being gentle with ourselves once in a while? We’re gentle with other people. With our parents. With our children. With our friends and coworkers. I actually think there must be some restorative property nestled in idleness. It regulates your equilibrium. Even restores calm. Combining it with the intentionality of breathing and breaths it may even be better than a bowl of acai berries and yogurt.

I am not advocating turning into a slacker. I’m just suggesting you being kinder to the person in the mirror. You may actually discover you’re more efficient in other areas of your life. What’s the worst that can happen if you stay in your pajamas half a day and read a good book? Is that such a bad way to spend a summer day?

#EnjoyYourLife

Leslie XO

 

Words, like smells, unlock a treasure trove of memories we have stored away. Because I deal in the business of words, words can both embrace and jab.

 

What do you think when you hear the word SPECIAL? Most people have a warm and positive feeling toward this word. For me it is like somebody just insulted me BIG TIME.

 

It’s like this. It started with my childhood. Because the doctors couldn’t quite label me with an exact diagnosis, I was dubbed “special”. I guess they figured use a pretty word and it wouldn’t matter. So I took my special self and wore special shoes and visited special doctors in exotic locales. No doubt about it, for somebody living in a small town in Alabama driving to New Orleans for doctor’s appointments was pretty exotic and “special”.

 

When I graduated from orthopedic surgeons to a rotation with neurosurgeons, the word choice changed as well. I was seen as a “challenge”, “impressive” and a bit “remarkable”. Those words were not any better. I think the dictator of Syria is a challenge. Getting a book published to me is impressive! I find Michael Phelps, Steph Curry, and my beloved Crimson Tide… Remarkable.

 

So when I recently visited my brand-new bone doctor he requested a new bone density test with his machines. I was hopeful. I never truly believed my bones were in peril. I was good with a specialist. He also ran a panel of bloodwork. He dictated his findings. There was no change in the bone density. I still had osteoporosis but it was the bloodwork that was the true surprise.

 

He read it so fast “your blood levels are unremarkable”. WAIT!! WHAT?????????????

“Your blood levels are unremarkable”. So nonchalantly.

“Really?” For someone who has never, ever been unremarkable this was a HUGE moment in my history with men in white coats. A true medical milestone.

“Can I get that in writing?” He looked at me in a quizzical fashion.

“You are a strange little duck…” I interrupted.

“You don’t understand. I have never been unremarkable before”.

“However,” he began, “there is nothing unremarkable about those tennis shoes you wear.” He smiled for the first time and even laughed.

“These kicks can be yours if you go to Omega sports”.

“No. I think they are a perfect companion to your unremarkable blood results.” We walked out together. He gave me a printed copy where he called me unremarkable.

 

I realized something. In doctor’s offices many people are hoping and praying for “unremarkable” scans and “unremarkable” blood results. Their lives depend upon the very word.

 

But I realized something else. On any given day we are all remarkable. It may be offering a stranger a smile or paying for the next person’s coffee in the line at Starbucks. Remarkable acts of kindness happen every day. We can never render these “unremarkable”. These little miracles are amazing and keep the whole concept of “being human” afloat. However, something tells me I better hang on to my sheet of paper declaring me “unremarkable”. I am sure it won’t be too long until I see another man in a white coat who will anoint me with another astonishing adjective I won’t like.

#EnjoyYourLife

Leslie XO

Cupid walks into a bar…

I am not a natural joiner. If a picture really is worth a thousand words….. feast your eyes on my inner turmoil. I’m not even sure if it was a “nature” or “nurture” thing.  Clubs, workplaces, institutions and many “hoods” (like motherhood, wedded bliss – hood.) rejected me. On my own, I have rejected political parties in favor of being resolutely “independent”.

Here’s the irony. I love people. I have a lot of friends. But things that even my friends belong to, have always produced a healthy skepticism in me .

I do belong to a church. And I have always belonged to a circle at the church. I adore these ladies. They are so much like my mother. They nurture just like Elizabeth. They are so wise. I needed them. But we are almost a generation apart. Which suited my needs at the time. But in the last few years there has been a real “craving” to be with people my own age who are similarly situated with similar issues.

I joined another circle. For a non-joiner this was almost comical that I belong to two circles within the same church. I even found myself saying “yes” to hosting said circle. I love Cupid and Valentines Day. What was wrong with me? I panicked. I purchased five bottles of wine for the occasion until my good friend (who had persuaded me to join her circle) said “oh no,Leslie we only serve wine when hosting a meal”. I put the bottles back in the pantry and panicked some more. What other faux pas would I commit?

My silver was tarnished; I stared at my Bama’s China (my beloved grandmother); I inspected my aunt Mary’s China and I froze. Everything seemed wrong. OFF. Bama didn’t have a cream and sugar. Aunt Mary didn’t have a creamer. I was just a disaster. This does not happen in any Edith Wharton novel.  I was beyond Lily Bart. Except in her last days of destitution. I heard Elizabeth’s voice “Mary Leslie, five bottles of wine for about 10 women? You’re hosting a church circle… Not a Kardashian bachelor party. You should use your nice China”. I looked around. Took a deep breath and said “No, my every day will do. Besides IT goes in the dishwasher. And I don’t see any staff around. Do you?” When Elizabeth did not  answer I took that as a sign. But I still proceeded with caution.

Instead of St. John, these women showed up in Lululemon. They loved the candy that I put in the epergne and the festive Valentine Petit Fours. But then I heard THE voice. No, I’m not talking Adam Levine. Or even my dead mother. Geez, the Almighty.

“You know Leslie they came for ME not you”.  “Just how long have you been sitting there?” “Long enough to think that maybe you should give up swearing for Lent”.  You’ve got me hosting a circle don’t push your luck. There it was. I was much more myself with HIM than with a group of women.

We are so hard on ourselves. We are hard on our appearances. People that REALLY care about us have their arms outstretched welcoming us, not shaking a judging finger at us.

So while I may still be a little leery of groups in general I am becoming a little less reluctant. But that doesn’t mean I’m completely reformed. If you look too eager and are coming my way because you think I am perfect for a committee you may want to go the other way. Because I just might. And if Cupid approaches me in a bar with his bow and arrow I just might duck.

#EnjoyYourLife

Leslie XO

This is not a blog entry or a book review discussing Alice Sebold’s breakout novel of the same name. Although I could discuss the brilliance of this heartbreaking novel. Has this ever happened to you? You engage a painter to give you an estimate. After what seemingly is a long time he gives you an estimate. You about have a heart attack when he asked “what do you want me to do what about all the Termites?” Termites? I really can’t remember what happens next. Should I check the balance of my anemic checkbook; look in drawers where I stash mad money or go to the refrigerator and grab a bottle of wine?

I had a similar encounter a few weeks ago with one of my “men in white coats”. Instead of termites, we were discussing the surprising fragility of my BONES. Words were thrown out like SEVERE osteoporosis. Fall risk. I was SHOCKED. I run Leslie Inc. As you read from last week’s entry, my dedicated board of directors is constantly playing referee between grumpy nerves and muscles in my bargain-basement body. WHAT?? Now you’re telling me that the basic structure is about to collapse? If I were a house, you couldn’t even say “but the Bones of this old house are solid”. Now this ragtag body seems REALLY dilapidated.

The solution? I have to give myself an injection daily in either my abdomen or thigh. I told my good friends “if you ever have to take me into the emergency room, please tell the docs I am not a middle-aged junkie but a lady with bad bones. So, in addition to cellulite, now I have to worry about all these wretched bruises from jabbing myself in the thigh daily. I hope I don’t have a date anytime soon because as Ricky said to Lucy “you’ve got a lot of explaining to do”. Or do I have a bruised ego? Because as I step off the elevator in his office, it looks like  “Bingo time” at the old folks home.

But I realized something. In doctor’s offices everywhere this scenario is perfectly NORMAL (It was a terrible time to be made aware that I can have normal problems).

By this, doctors are handing out serious diagnoses of CANCER; ALS; Alzheimer’s daily. These diagnoses change landscapes. They can change the landscape of a family. They change the landscape of a body. They can even change the landscape of a human heart. These proclamations become bold lines of demarcations in our life. “Before” and “After”. Suddenly nothing is ever the same.

But here’s the good news for me. I have a bone doctor who views us as a TEAM. He listens to me and confers with me. My other doctor never looked me in the eyes. She didn’t have time. My doctors seek my advice and opinion until I have to remind them occasionally “you know, I am not a REAL doctor. I just play one on TV.” It is a partnership in all the best senses of the word. I have noticed these doctors give the most simplistic examples of things. My fancy neurosurgeon refers to the nerves and muscles which travel from my brain down my arm as “the highway”. Sometimes my “interstate” gets littered with debris and requires surgically cleaning it up. They view me as a partner. An equal. We are in this thing together. I am well aware that all the “men in white coats” in my orbit are invested in my well-being. It took a bad test and doctor to realize just how lucky I am. I will continue my journey, jabbing myself, running Leslie Inc. and doing whatever it takes. You do the same.

Never apologize for asking questions. Or pushing back. You don’t want to discover termites. Time is important. It gives you the luxury of choice. Because as another literary hero, Flannery O’Connor, put it “the life you save may be your own.”

#EnjoyYourLife

Leslie XO

I have often described the physical vessel that I roam around in as my “Bargain Basement Body “. But operating it is just a different matter entirely. I refer to this considerable undertaking as running “Leslie Inc.”.

And running Leslie Inc. is serious business. AND it is a FULL TIME Job. My mind conjures up the beginnings of Apple or Microsoft in a garage. With an idea. And a whole lot of work and determination. And let’s just face it a whole lot of employees and a Board of Directors.

My Board of Directors. This board does not vote. It Works. On Monday I have physical therapy with Christine. There’s just too many body parts that need her attention most of the time! My shoulder blade and its surrounding muscles like The Deltoid will play a robust game of red rover with my occipital nerve pulling it down. Or my IT band may fight with my groin. It is a nasty game between all the muscles and nerves and somehow I manage to lose frequently! Come to think of it maybe it is really my Body running Me!

On to Tuesday and Pilates. I first encountered Laney the Pilates instructor, at the 8^th Street studio. Boy, did I have Grand dreams! And visions of Sarah Jessica Parker. I figured a couple hours on the reformer and the Cadillac at her studio and I could be the owner of rock hard abs. Now after about 20 years at this, my ONLY mission is to just run out the clock and escape that Pilates dominatrix. I have to say for the record I’m not a fan of Pilates. It hurts. It challenges. It makes me think. And sweat. And ache. Who would ever be a fan of that? And all the while these nimble, young creatures are whizzing past me in their Lululemon clad bodies. I have abandoned Sarah Jessica Parker and focused my considerable efforts on remaining upright which for me involves endurance, complete concentration and a whole lot of what I call Pilates Tourette’s (Saying bad words in the confines of the Pilates Body Shaping studio that would completely discombobulate Elizabeth, my proper mama).

And Friday is Chinese acupuncture with Amy or as I like to call it pins and needles. But let’s face it after the work out of just walking around my “chi” Or my energy needs a little help. It is the perfect bookend to physical therapy. It calms down the grumpy nerves and muscles from a week of living and running this ramshackle operation.

Did I mention that I get up at 6 o’clock every morning to go work out for an hour on the elliptical and weight machine?

And now we get to those pesky, vocal shareholders. Just who are they? Who else could have a say over this little ragtag operation? It is the ubiquitous Men In White Coats. And they get to “vote” on the overall health of Leslie Inc. and if they give me a vote of “confidence” well, that means NO surgery!

All of this is just to maintain my feeble balance. Not too sexy right? But everyone’s life is a delicate balance in one way or another. Mine is just more apparent than most. And truly staying upright is a MAJOR blessing. I am grateful each day to my diligent board of directors for being devoted to maintaining my independence. No one wants to go before those scalpel- wielding “men in white coats.”  I see enough people confined to “the silver octopus” as I refer to wheelchairs. I always say a silent prayer “but for the grace of God go I”.

One of these days I hope that my little startup company body will turn into a Microsoft. Or Apple. But until then… The only thing I can change is the name of this blog. So from now on its name, like my little bargain basement body that I run, will forever be called…

LESLIE, INC

See you right here next week or at the gym

#EnjoyYourLife

Leslie XO