Curve balls

As it has with anyone, life has thrown me some curse balls along the way.  What I’ve learned about myself and others and the curve balls themselves has been really interesting.

You probably know by now that I’m a plan making and a list creating fool.  Sometimes I make lists for my plans and vis versa.  It’s a sickness really.  What I also know is the best way to make God laugh is to make a plan.  God is a master curve ball pitcher.  Plan to do X and he throws a perfect curve right into your strike zone.  Are you going to stand there and go down looking?  Or are you going to swing a way, take control of the curve, and make it your own?

I gave up a long time ago being mad about God’s curve balls.  I know there is something bigger than me in this universe and I believe I my purpose in life is to figure out, well, what that purpose is.  I don’t know everything.  I don’t have all the answers, but each day I set out on my mission to learn and grown and be a positive force in this world.  Set aside money for one thing, then another thing breaks that takes the funds. Plan an outing for the day and the car won’t start when it’s time to leave.  If I was thrown this type of curve ball, God was just letting me know that my plan wasn’t really his plan and I need to change my line up.  I can deal.

Sometimes I’ve, knowingly or unknowingly, thrown myself my own curve balls.  I forgot to have all my cylinders turned on.  I didn’t pay attention to details.  I knew something was wrong, but I did it anyway, ignoring my gut feelings and morals, forging ahead, believing I knew better.  I swung at a pitch above my head.  I put myself behind in the pitch count.  The only way out is hunker down and protect the plate.  I have to acknowledge my mistakes, accept that I was wrong, eat my crow, then apologize, ask for forgiveness, fix my mistakes and move forward.  Personally challenging at bats build character and humility.

It’s the last type of curve balls that I’m struggling with the most.  Those are the ones that others throw at you.  You have a course of action all in place and someone comes in and makes meaningless changes just to show they have some power or control.  Someone spouts off rude, mean, hurtful comments about another individual, then when caught makes up more lies to cover their tracks or tells you, you should turn the other cheek and let it go.  (Sorry I just made you sing that song.)  How come those who frequently stomp all over the morals and values of humanity, self-centeredly focused on getting their way, are the first ones to throw scripture at others about being loving, kind, and forgiving, but never once consider being remorseful, apologetic, or even owning up to their actions?  Yes, yes, I know. This curve ball is just another one like the others, and I have to flow with it just the same.  But this one’s a stinger.  This one’s a dead ball to the backside.  It stings.  The memory of it is vivid.  It leaves a nasty mark.

It changes you.  It changes your outlook.  It changes your feelings.  It changes your future decisions.

But afterwards, you get up, take your base and play ball.

Sweet-talker

I live with a family of allergy babies.  And by babies, I mean whiny, cry-baby, wimps.  It’s a beautiful spring day.  Can I open the windows and let the breeze in?  Nope.   “Close that window!  You’re going to let all the pollen in!”  Owww… There’s an extra couple of bucks in the check book, maybe I can buy a new read or some yarn.  Nope.   “My throat itches.  Where are the allergy pills?”  There goes another $30 on stupid allergy meds just so you can breathe better, whatever.

I’ve always felt pretty lucky to have escaped the trappings on their season pity party.

Unfortunately, it looks like they are going to have to make room at the table for one more runny nosed, itchy, sneezing complainer.

I was pleasantly minding my own business on Sunday night when it all began.

Rub eye.  Rub it again.  Blink, blink, blink.  Rub eye.  Rub other eye.  Eye begins dripping.  Drip, drip, drip.  What the hell?

Itch arm.  Itch arm again.  Scratch the heck out of arm.  What are those bumps on my arm?

Drip, drip.  That darn eye.  Wait, that’s my nose.  Oh hell….

I’m going to go to bed and pretend none of this is happening.

Wake up Monday….  Sniffle, drip, sniffle, drip.  How can a nose be clogged and runny at the same time?  Itch, scratch, itch, scratch.  Great, the bumps are still there.  If the bumps are on my arm, why does the back of my throat itch?  Can I even scratch that?  Crap, now my eye is leaking again.

This is stupid.  I don’t have allergies.  This is NOT happening to me.  It’s just a spring cold.  People still get those, right?  Yes, spring cold.  I just need some extra sleep.  I’m going to bed.

Wake up Tuesday….  Now I know I’m awake, so why can’t I see anything?  What’s on my eyes?  Sweet, they are crusted shut.  Is crusted a word?  It is now.  I lose few eyelashes, but I finally get my eyes open.  Now I’m wishing I hadn’t.  Not only are my crusted over, but they are also swollen.  The left one more so than the right.  Uneven, swollen, puffy, crusty eyes….very attractive.  And to add to the look, the crustys have traveled to my nose where a mixture of a running and bleeding nose has created a Jackson Pollack-esk rendition on my face and hand.  My throat still itches and I still can’t scratch it.  Plus, now my head feels like it’s in a vice grip.  Ugh!

At that exact moment, my super sensitive husband walked in.

Me – “I feel like shit.”

IP – “You look like shit!”

Me – “Thanks”

I see IP has been attending his charm school classes again.  Heck, with wooing words like that, he could teach the courses.

Now, could someone please point me in the direction of the nearest bottles of Zyrtec and Allegra…. and close that window while you’re at it!