Do you get fed up sometimes? Today I feel at the maximum fed up level. February is l-o-n-g. I had set out at the start with such heart felt hope. This was suppose to be my feel good month. Not that anything is wrong or that I’ve been plagued with a truckload of disasters. None of that. I just feel such malaise even though the sky is blue and the sun is shining. I need another cup of decaf.

Perhaps it is because of my recent sinusitis of the past week and a half. Not that it was such a struggle. It was a tad tougher than my usual state for I am forever complaining a lack of energy, of joie de vivre. I’m fed up with being a wet blanket, a party pooper and being my worse enemy. It’s good to let it all out. This is my space, my confessional. It is where I come to cleanse my mind and soul.

It doesn’t help that my sleep is disturbed lately. I had nightmares a couple of nights back. I screamed and screamed in my sleep. I thought it was only in my dreams. I was stuck in an elevator with unsavory man. I was scared to death. In my dream, I had trouble getting my screams out. It wasn’t so in real life. I woke the guy and Sheba as well. Then last night, I had trouble getting to sleep. I got up and read awhile. Luckily that helped. I slept and dreamt as well. Lucky it was not a nightmare. I dreamt about little cupcakes. The cost was $15 for 15. I guess the cost is nightmarish. I wonder if it was those little unsavory Italian meatballs that triggered the dream.

It really helps to tap out my feelings, whatever they are. I was seeing the world through bleak eyes. I couldn’t see the point of anything. The world is gone to hell in a hand basket:

  • The war in Syria. Seeing the dead babies on the evening news.
  • The school shooting in Florida. Hearing a politician saying the teachers need to have guns when the students were crying for gun control

These are the two weighing heavily on top of all the others right now. What can be done to make the world and humans better? Being fed up is not the answer I know. Now the question is how do I get out of it? I bet Oprah would say, Live your best life. A good answer, I’m sure but it won’t do for me. It’s too generalized, too neat. I have to chip, tap and hack my way out bit by bit.

I’m a fan of Sue Grafton. You’ve probably deduced it by the title of this blog. Her detective series is just what I need on my not so buoyant days. Janet  Evanovich is in the same genre. I’m glad it’s women that help me get through the tough days. Their energy, humour and narrative story telling take me away from the moody blues into adventure and laughs. I have to love that.

So another day comes to an end. I’ve limped through it but I’m still standing. I’ve gotten up, dressed up and shown up. I had to work a little harder at it. It was my Olympic effort, not a Gold Medal but nothing wrong with a Bronze. My mantra was I can do this. I can do this. So it went. Now I have a few more trays seeded – 3 kinds of tomatoes and geraniums. The petunias and chili peppers have germinated. Things do look hopeful. The effort is worth it.

When I have a Sheba, I have to make an effort. She wears my moods so I had to show her that I was okay. Nothing to worry about. She is safe and cared for. She is her confident and happy self again.




Egads! Having a fur baby is like having a real baby. When there is something wrong, they can’t articulate so that you can understand. They cry/bark and cry/bark. Nothing seems to help. Their distress is distressing. There’s no reasoning with a dog or a baby. This is my situation with Sheba at the moment. We came home after spending a couple of hours at the guy’s boat workshop. It was her mealtime and she was restless.

Saturday –

That was as far as I got yesterday. Things went from bad to worse. She ate her supper with relish as always. Instead of settling down after as usual, she was restless and pesky. She barked to be out. Then she barked to be in.  She sat on the deck and stared at me. I’m not coming in! Was her demeanor. I coaxed her in with a treat. We went through a few episodes of this. Finally I took her for another walk. Maybe she felt shortchanged on her last one. We went at a fast clip. She was happy to trot. But it did not solve the problem at all.

She remained restless and pesky all evening, barking to go out, to come in. It reminded me of another episode a couple of years ago when she was anxious. Then, it was quite clear that she had anxiety, crying, not sleeping and not eating unless we stood guard while she ate. It was quite an ordeal, lasting weeks. She was checked and no physical causes. I was thinking of medicating her when she ‘snapped’ out of it. I wasn’t sure if it was the Omega 3s that I started feeding her. She was having quite a bit of dandruff at the time, too. Omega 3s were supposed to be good for healthy coat and brain. It worked in both cases. The dandruff improved and so did the hair shedding. PLUS she started sleeping and her anxiety subsided.

Remembering all that, I was determined that this was not going to go on for weeks. I willed myself to feel confident and secured, hoping she will read that and feel safe. I was sure by evening that the anxiety was from being in the workshop. She did not like being in there. The first day she was fine and would lay on her blanket. But the second day she paced the two hours we were there. She had trouble laying down at home. She would bop right up again. She would sit with me massaging her back and ears. She could sit focused and engaged through popcorn feeding, one kernel at a time. She is a true Lab. But we could not do that forever.

When we went to bed, she still would not settle. She paced, whimpered and panted around the bed. It was worse when I kicked her out and shut the door. She started barking. Eventually I got out of bed and made myself a cup of tea. I sat at the diningroom table and painted my little index cards. In time, Sheba came and laid down near my feet and licked hers. She really went to town, panting and licking her paws. She was comforting herself. The floor was quite wet. But she did calm down. She allowed me to stay in bed and sleep. She laid in hers, at the foot of ours and slept also. By then it was after 3 am and I had painted 3 little index cards.

Today she is her normal sweet though sometimes barky self. I have a headache, my eyes are gritty. I guess that’s normal for 3 hours of sleep. But I am still standing though not tall.