Posts Tagged With: Sleep

 
 

The Power of a Few Blankets

Friday Letter to my Kids – April 3, 2015 –

Dear J, J, L and L,

I grew up in the no-bike-helmets, no-parental-supervision-all-summer, kick-the-can-long-after-dark, stay-away-from-the-river, eat-all-the-sugar-you-want and drink-red-Koolaid era. We lived fearlessly and with abandon.

boogeyman (not John Travolta)

boogeyman (not John Travolta)

Why then, as a child, would I feel the need to hide and protect myself at night, at home in my own bed? Why would my nighttimes fill up with so much fright and worry?

I have no idea. Honestly. I’m just a weird kid. Or I was.

Okay, let’s be honest. I still am weird.

If anything, the world’s gotten scarier the older I’ve gotten, but not in the boogeyman kinds of ways. And of course, I can talk myself through the things that go make odd noises in the dark, usually. But I do still sleep with a light on if your Dad is out-of-town or hasn’t come to bed yet.

I suppose I’m just a creature of habit.

From as young as I can recall I’ve always gone to sleep with the covers over my head and just my nose and mouth poking out for breathing.

That’s not an easy thing to achieve. Getting the covers to wrap around your head and eyes and still snug in under your chin takes some skill. It’s trickier if you’re sharing the bed with someone, which I have for most of my life. The secret, I suppose, lies in scrunching down low enough on the mattress, toes almost touching the end of the bed.

Floating head phantom creature.

Floating head phantom creature.

Most people waste that bottom twelve inches of mattress space, but not me. It’s necessary to use every bit of leg room for proper cacooning under sheet, blanket and comforter.

You wonder, no doubt, how I came to sleep this way. I have no idea. Perhaps I was cold one night as a tiny munchkin and discovered the perfect sleeping arrangement. Everyone knows if your head is warm the rest of your body will stay warmer. I’d guess that’s how sleeping caps came into vogue back a few centuries ago. I could go for one of those some nights even now. Except that I have my head wrapping sleep position down to a science.

The other possibility lies in this true fact: I’m a born worrier and a ‘fraidy cat. It’s true. I didn’t come into this worry addiction by accident. I’m certain I arrived, heaven’s dust still shining on my little chubby cheeks, worried about some potential catastrophe and scared outta my newborn diaper about every little noise and new thing in the world.

He looks harmless enough, but watch out!!!

Only looks harmless…

That’s a lot to come in to the world with. Maybe I learned to be afraid of the dark, although I think that came as part and parcel of the whole Kami package. I remember yelling for Mom from the safety of my warm bed after a scary dream, or needing a drink. I’d yell a good ten minutes or more if that’s what it took. My poor mother. I must have done that a few thousand times to her. Little did I know at the time what I was doing to her sanity and her sleep deficit. (Sorry, Mom!!)

Karma, also known as getting what’s coming to you…

I suppose all the middle of the night waking you kids did while you were young could be defined as Karma. I had it coming to me.

Afraid of the dark and worrying about life made me want to hunker down under the covers and hide from the world, especially the nighttime world. I somehow felt protected by those few inches of cloth, from whatever intruder, ghost, goblin, boogeyman, specter or fearsome creature might appear in my bedroom.

Mike? Mike Wazowski? Gah!!

Mike?

Maybe my bedroom door really did open up on Monsters, Inc. back in the day. Who wouldn’t be petrified if Sulley, or Mike Wazowski, or heaven forbid, Randall, appeared in their bedroom from time to time. Oy vey! But, I don’t believe in monsters, so that can’t be why.

I suppose why doesn’t really matter. I suppose I just wanted you to know a little something more about me. Maybe it explains something you never understood about your dear Mom. Or maybe it just cements the idea that you have an odd mother. That’s okay. It’d be as close to the truth as you can get.

Hey, occasionally I find myself falling asleep just fine without my head protected and my eyes covered. Of course, I’m usually reading a book when that happens.

Happy Dreams!

All my love,

Mom

photo 1-9 copy 8

~~~~~

“I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I’m awake, you know?” ~Ernest Hemingway

Advertisements
Categories: Family, Friday Letter to My Kids, Friday Letters | Tags: , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Zoned Out But Still Laughing

It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m thankful for sleep when it comes easily. Last night it played hide and seek all over the house and I didn’t find it until two hours before the alarm went off.

As a result my thinking cells called in a vacation day. An unfortunate outcome since I needed to use those particular neurons for a little while at least.

When all else fails, turn to humor. At least that what I tell myself, often. So, I found some funny quotes about gratitude and decided to share. (I used my new Photofy app. Fun huh? Easy even for the sleep-deprived to use.)

 

Pretty self explanatory.

Pretty self explanatory.

*****

I love Will Rogers folksy humor and insight.

I love Will Rogers folksy humor and insight.

***

Sometimes you have to lie to yourself to keep on keeping on...

Sometimes you have to lie to yourself to keep on keeping on…

 

That’s all my brain cells let me do today. Here’s hoping you’re finding plenty to keep you laughing and grateful. Here’s hoping I can sleep tonight.

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

“Sleep…the Best Meditation”

“Laugh and the world laughs with you, snore and you sleep alone.”

 ~ Anthony Burgess ~

It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m grateful for sleep.

Sometimes sleep eludes me. My body weary and eyes bleary, my brain an emotional maze of nonsense, and yet that gentle slide into oblivion simply refuses to happen.

At other times I just don’t manage to squeeze in enough sleep to fully rest my frazzled nerves and the frayed edges of ache and age.

In fact, I recently summed up my life since age twenty in four words:

I need more sleep.

Original art by Adolph Menzel - http://www.villa-grisebach.de/

Original art by Adolph Menzel – http://www.villa-grisebach.de/

Years, no decades, of my journal entries lay peppered with the phrase, “I’m so tired,” or “I’m so exhausted,” and, “If I could just get a nap.” What boring journals.

Some of that I lay at the feet of parenting babies and toddlers and teens. It’s a given, for parenting requires our all. But sadly, some of the constant fatigue I can lay at the feet of depression and its insidious energy sucking vortex of gloom and misery. No amount of sleep cures that kind of tired.

Lately, though, I’ve waged a daily battle against exhaustion –  emotional, spiritual and physical. When my head meets the pillow I feel such incredible gratitude to be horizontal, to be resting, to have sleep waiting to take me somewhere far away.

Exhausted Beyond All Reason

Last night I called it done at 7:45 p.m. Astounding! Normally it’s eleven or midnight.

No I didn’t drag myself around the house doing this and that. You know that wasted time of “getting ready for bed” that takes an eternity? Nope. I felt such lassitude I don’t really even remember pulling my pajamas over my head or pulling the chain on my bedside lamp. I do know the clock hadn’t yet rolled over to eight when I set my alarm and pulled the covers up around my chin.

photo 2.PNG

Every morning, except Sunday!

Six hours later, at two a.m. my body woke up. Not for any noise or nightmare. No. Six hours equals how much sleep I normally get and my body knows it, so it woke up. Calmly I reassured my brain and body that it could rest another three hours. Three more hours!!! Imagine a snooze button that does that!

I woke still groggy but rested and thrilled, yes thrilled, at having gotten so much sleep. The pace of my morning walk surprised me, less strolling and more actual forward momentum. Surprising what a little (fifty percent more) sleep will do for a person.

There’s a solution to that…

I know I should go to bed earlier. And I’ve literally been telling myself that every single day for years, “Tonight, I am going to bed early.” And nada. Nope. I get sidetracked, waylaid, pulled in, tricked by a series of just-one-more-things.

I wish sleep didn’t feel like such a luxury.

Naps fall in that decadence category, too, don’t they? And yet, twenty minutes with my eyes closed mid-afternoon can make the difference between a moody unproductive evening and a cheerful, pleasant one. That’s not decadence, that’s survival!

Everything seems more manageable after some decent sleep. Doesn’t it? Yes. Yes, it does.

This sums it up nicely:

“It is a common experience that a problem difficult at night is resolved in the morning after the committee of sleep has worked on it.” ~ John Steinbeck

Yes. Today I’m particularly grateful for sleep and its restorative, sanity-keeping, energizing, blissful escape. I’m guessing you are too.

~~~~~

The title of today’s post comes from a quote by the Dalai Lama, “Sleep is the best meditation.”

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday, Mental Health | Tags: , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

The Hazards of Sleep

Ever grateful when sleep actually envelops me, I really shouldn’t complain.

And yet, this morning I find myself in a fog of sleep’s detritus, muddled, mired, heavy with the night’s work. For some reason the dream machine knobs all ratcheted up to extra high last night. Someone bumped the control panel maybe?

Only in dreams can a skateboard be a perfectly logical means of transportation on a freeway, as well as on a mountain trail.

Only in dreams does a wasteland of sandy desert intersect in clean lines with a dark thick forest of tangled growth and dangers.

Only in dreams can people leap from outlandish heights and end up landing gently in a moving vehicle.

Last night’s ultra vivid movie starred people from my past I haven’t seen in decades, as well as people I just spoke with yesterday. Complete strangers, of course, show up most often. As far as I can tell, no one had anything monumental or prophetic to say. Thank goodness.

Dreams fade fast, like sunsets.

Dreams fade fast, like sunsets.

Even now, as I write, most of what went on fades into the distance as quickly as a stunning sunset. Small glimmers of light wink on briefly but with no hand holds to grab for analyzing.

A couple of nightmares played into the mix as well. Being chased by something dark and evil, a maniacal laugh behind me as I attempted escape. MSH shaking me awake from my frightened cries. I shudder a bit even now as I think about the fogged over memory of it.

Years ago, when MSH traveled frequently for work,  I had a nightmare so real that when I awoke I held the nightstand over my head and was screaming at a non-existent intruder to get out. My children had run into the room and turned on the light and were yelling to wake me. Poor dears were more frightened than I by the whole thing.

Luckily, that’s the only time I’ve been up and about in a dream.

At two and three years of age my son experienced night terrors. What a helpless feeling to see your own child, eyes wide open, screaming, terrified, moving about, but unable to wake up. It took two of us to wake and calm him, one to hold him firmly, the other to get a cool washcloth for his face. Then both of us to talk him into wakefulness.

These remind me of a dream's ethereal and fragile nature.

These remind me of a dream’s ethereal and fragile nature.

I seldom remember my dreams or my nightmares. The few I remember still sit on a memory shelf at the forefront of my mind waiting for me to take them down and replay at will. Those, of course, pack a wallop of meaning and symbolism. Often, when I review the details of those dreams the meaning changes slightly based on changes in my life. I wrote one down once and emailed it to MSH because he played a prominent role in the dream. His interpretation, of course, fell in different lines than my interpretation did. Still does. Otherwise, my dreams stay in my head. No writing about them.

Writing a dream down gives it a different shape and texture. Assigning words to a thing as ethereal as a dream takes away some essential element and replaces it with a less refined, more sluggish substance. Even speaking about them out loud takes away part of the dreamlike quality, like attempting to capture fog in a glass jar.

If I could place an order for a dream or two I’d ask for a dreamy garden stroll with my maternal grandmother. I’d also like a dream of a day fishing with either or both of my grandfathers. And my  paternal grandmother and I at an NBA basketball game would be a dream of epic proportions. And of course, I really want a dream where Kathy and I could chat endlessly. And because it’s a dream and everything could be ideal she’d be the one driving the car and running with abandon and jumping on the trampoline and working on some hair-brained but brilliant project in the garage. Oh, and a dream of being on a cruise for a week would also be nice and relaxing. Of course, the real version of that would be better.

Yeah, I’d like to place my order for those dreams. So if anyone who knows the Sandman and can put in a good word for me, I’d appreciate it.

Awake feels good for now.

Let’s get on with the day, shall we?

Categories: Mental Health, physical health, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Ignore It and It Will Show Up at your Bedside?

Oh, to sleep like a two-year old, almost twelve hours straight uninterrupted.

Oh, to sleep like a two-year old, almost twelve hours straight uninterrupted.

For the past five or six weeks I’ve run across a major roadblock to sanity.

Sleep runs the other direction when I put my head on the pillow. Dreams hide as the covers wrap me in warmth. Rest disappears and restlessness settles in like an unwelcome guest.

Legs twitch, itchy spots scream for attention, the mind performs acrobatics. Even my eyes get in on the action, closed or not, parades of colors dance and swim in loud splashes and vibrant displays.

The sheets warm past bearing, the air chills. The pillow alternates between rock and hard place.

And if by some freak of nature my body begins to relax into that mysterious land called sleep a siren screams through on a distant street, volume turned up extra loud. Or a dog barks. Or some sound or another disrupts that blessed descent to almost unconsciousness.

And if all is silent, then surely a thought intrudes bumbling and jostling its way down the crowded seating in my brain, stepping on every toe.

Every thing that normally invites sleep no longer has any power to invite, elicit, encourage or entice somnolence. A droning audio book, lullabies on Pandora, white noise, humidifier, deep breathing, relaxation techniques, limiting caffeine, eliminating caffeine, reading, lights on, lights off, a light in the hall, no light in the hall, a warm bath, warm milk, a heating pad, a cool pack, lavender, chamomile, a massage, a different bed, a different pillow, a different room, the couch, a chair, the floor, prescription sleep meds, Benadryl, nighttime cold meds, multiple pillows, no pillows, singing, humming, counting, imagining a peaceful scene, conjuring floating on a cloud, no screen time an hour before, rituals, prayer, snuggling, no snuggling, sitting up, a protein snack, no snack, a drink of water, aroma therapy.

NOTHING. WORKS.

I can watch a movie and drop off into an irresistible snooze, then sleepwalk into the bedroom and voilà, I am awake unable to sleep again. I can read a book, barely able to keep my eyes focused on the words, nodding off into incoherence, then closing the book acts like an on switch for wakefulness.

What am I thinking about? What am I worried about? What’s on my mind? What am I anxious about? Why am I wacko?

Everything. Nothing. Anything.

It hardly matters.

Sometimes, around six or seven in the morning, some trigger clicks and I’m out. However long I sleep it’s never long enough and when I do wake from that kind of daytime sleep I drag my head and body through the rest of what’s left of a day like a soaking wet blanket, useless and heavy.

The only thing that matters is the need for sleep and how impossible it is to achieve.

It’s not like this every night. Only sometimes. Every other night, every third night, sometimes. I wonder if I might simply spend the rest of my life exhausted, worn out, sleep deprived.

I can’t think that way, though. I have to believe that the word temporary applies here. Temporary sleep deprivation. Temporary exhaustion. Temporary insomnia. Temporary rest disabled. Temporary partial insanity.

What did Shakespeare say? Oh yeah, “to sleep, to sleep, perchance to Dream.” Unfortunately that lovely line resides among a soliloquy debating the merits of dying. It’s part of that whole “to be or not to be” speech. Yeah, that one. (Most of Shakespeare’s ramblings about sleep are really about dying, so maybe I’ll look elsewhere for a better quote or two about sleep.

How about this one?

“I’ve always envied people who sleep easily. Their brains must be cleaner, the floorboards of the skull well swept, all the little monsters closed up in a steamer trunk at the foot of the bed.” ~ David Benioff, City of Thieves

Or, this one is brilliant in an obvious and obnoxious way.

“The best cure for insomnia is to get a lot of sleep.” ~ W.C. Fields

I like how this author turns things in a positive light.

“You are not an insomniac! (you’re just a nighttime philosopher)” ~ Leslie Dean Brown

Probably, I should incorporate this one in my nightly prayers.

“Lord, grant us rest tonight, and if we must be wakeful, cheerful.” ~ Robert Bolt, A Man for All Seasons

Some day, or rather, some night, this insomnia will go away. I’m counting on it. In fact, I’m thinking tonight I’ll actually sleep. I’m overdue for some.

It could happen!

Categories: Mental Health, physical health | Tags: , , , , , | 3 Comments

Newborn-babyitis

I’ve acquired newborn-babyitis.

This involves being confused about night-time and day time. Specifically it means where the rest of the world believes it’s time to sleep my brain and body is a non-believer.

photo-19 copy 4

Don’t be fooled by this sweetly sleeping infant. This photo was snapped midday.

Like a newborn, this occurs at the most inconvenient times and places. Specifically at bedtime and in bed.

There’s no logical reason for a baby to think it’s time for alert and active thrashing about and for making various odd noises when almost everyone else (except those who work third shift) has drifted off into dreamland, or as I call it, “that which cannot be named or achieved.”

There’s no logical reason for my own thrashing about and the sense of my body plugged into a direct current of electricity. Wakeful and semi-alert well past bedtime reeks of the nonsensical and infuriating.

This state of unrest, literally un-rest, is particularly aggravating when not ten minutes before climbing into bed my head kept nodding off to the side, dreams kept intruding in the current episode of White Collar or Burn Notice on Netflix, and my eyelids had lost the ability to remain open.

Why, oh why, oh why, couldn’t that near comatose state in the family room translate into the bedroom, on comfy pillows, with a fluffy comforter and total silence?

A pacifier

Unlike a newborn, I don’t have a wet diaper, I don’t need feeding, I’m past the swaddling stage, a binky is completely optional lately and swinging or rocking would just make me nauseous.

This happens even following a completely caffeine-free day. No diet Coke, Diet Pepsi, Dr. Pepper or Mountain Dew. And no, none of that surreptitious caffeine like they sometime put in Root beer. My body craves, desires, requires, can’t go on without, will go stark raving mad without sleep. I’m not about to jeopardize that with a little fizzy fling on ice.

Why such rebellion from an otherwise cooperative and compliantly sleepy brain? I sort of understand the infant’s topsy-turvy sleep schedule. They’ve been ensconced in a perfect floating world for so long where sleeping and waking all looked and felt the same. Suddenly changing when those things happen appears illogical to that tiny brain. But a full-grown, semi-sane adult should drop off into Never Never Land with nary a thought.

It’s like getting in the car and finding the engine won’t turn over. Not even an Rrrrrr, or a click. Just Nothingness. A giant void of non sleep. I don’t even begin to approach that little ledge between consciousness and sleep. Yeah, you know, that elusive line of awareness, fuzziness and goneness. That blissful, wonderful, coveted lack of sensation.

That slippery slope dried up recently. A fence got built in its place.

Baby blankets

Baby blankets (Photo credit: happydacks)

Grrr.

I’ve had experience with sleep meds so I’m not really anxious to go there.  Poor sad potato.<<== Click there to make sense of that weird phrase and to understand my reluctance to go the chemical route.

Eventually newborns adjust their sleep patterns to conform to the family schedule. At least usually. Or so I’ve heard. Not sure I ever experienced that with my own children.

I could take a cue from the wee little ones. Maybe I need to try a pacifier, a blankie and a lullaby or two.

And naps. Lots and lots of napping.

Categories: Mental Health, parenting, physical health | Tags: , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

The Best Cure for Insomnia

It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m infinitely grateful for that glorious elixir called sleep. It’s the cure of many ills, both physical and emotional. Sleep can turn a cranky toddler into a happy child or transform a short temper into patience. Enough sleep can make the difference between overwhelmed and empowered.

A couple of fluffy pillows is all I need!

A couple of fluffy pillows is all I need!

Oh, I know it isn’t that simple. But sometimes it is. Sometimes all it takes is a nap, or a full night of uninterrupted dreaming. Sometimes calling it a night is the best answer to any problem we face.

Sometimes sleeping in heals our brain fuzz. The fog lifts and what was indecipherable and impossible becomes doable and understandable.

An entire book, a classic, exists based on the idea of one man’s sleep deprivation adventures. Have you ever heard of Don Quixote? Here’s the part of the book where I wanted to cry because I’ve almost been like that a time or two.

“Finally, from so little sleeping and so much reading, his brain dried up and he went completely out of his mind.” — Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

Running on the fumes of not enough rest can render us nearly mad and fairly ineffective or even nonsensical.

I’m a big fan of naps. Not long ones. Usually. Twenty minutes with my pillow are often all I need to regenerate and get through the rest of the day. Although yesterday I left the alarm off and let myself sleep nearly two hours. Surprisingly I dreamed a vivid, colorful, creative, restful dream in a sleep that left me feeling awake and not groggy or drugged or foggy.

This quote by Rita Rudner makes me laugh.

“I love to sleep. Do you? Isn’t it great? It really is the best of both worlds. You get to be alive and unconscious.”

Ernest Hemingway shared this same love of sleep, albeit for different reasons I suspect, based on these two telling sentences.

“I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I’m awake, you know?”

Sleeping like a baby is an oft misunderstood phrase. Babies, esp. newborns wake up crying every two hours to be fed.All. Night. Long.

Sleeping like a baby is an oft misunderstood phrase. Babies, esp. newborns wake up crying every two hours to be fed.All. Night. Long.

I’d like to think I’m less self-destructive than he was when I’m awake. Although I wouldn’t mind being as prolific and talented a writer as that guy. There are days, especially the sleep-deprived ones when I think I should have stayed home, away from civilized people and kept my rude, aggravated, bleary-eyed self out of trouble.

I’ve often wondered why we sleep a full third of our lives. I’ve yet to come up with a good answer for that. I’ve concluded that being human is an odd thing. That’s all. Nothing profound.

If you want profound look to some spiritual leader like the Dalai Lama XIV who said the following:

“If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito.”

Who knew those guys could be funny as well as wise, huh?

Here’s one more funny guy with his thoughts on sleep.

“The best cure for insomnia is to get a lot of sleep.” – WC Fields

My favorite thought on sleep was one that made the rounds on the internet recently. In fact, I think I need to get a t-shirt with these very words printed on it.

“I already want to take a nap tomorrow.”

Ah, sleep, I love thee dearly.

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday, Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Sleep and Happy Potatoes

English: Different potato varieties. – The pot...

Happy Potatoes

Sleep has been on my mind. I want some, I try to get some, I try a little and I like it. Then it sneaks off into a corner and avoids me. I manage to wrangle the sleep back into bed. Not long after that my alarm jangles the sleep out of my grip and I’m alone there in the bed with my exhaustion.

Occasionally I toy with the idea of sleep meds. But I had a near disastrous relationship with one once. And another bad relationship with another one.

I mostly have to rely on what people told me about the second experience as I wasn’t really there for it. Ironic, yes?

Doc had given me a prescription for this lovely med which all but guaranteed a blissful night of ecstasy in complete and total slumber. I was sold. Bought it, brought it home, couldn’t wait for nightfall.

If I recall correctly the doctor’s words were, “you need to BE IN YOUR BED when you take this medication!” Exclamation point. His point: this stuff works into your system very quickly.

Okay. No problem.

The first time I took it, sleep and I hit it off quickly. No glitches. Perfect. Woke refreshed and not groggy. Wowser! The stars sang, the clouds danced, the sun broke out in a chorus of hallelujahs, as did I.

A month or two later I’d kind of forgotten the warning my doc had given me.

Sleep had been elusive once more. Sneaking off into unknown hiding places, avoiding me like I had bad breath and body odor. I felt drained, exhausted, desperately in need of sleep.

English: Potato variety Blue Swede Deutsch: Ka...

Blue Potato

So I told MSH that I’d be taking one of my magic sleep pills. Always a good idea to do if you’re planning on being all but comatose for eight hours.

He said, “Enjoy!” and went off for his nightly shower.

I dragged myself to the kitchen, popped the magical sleep potion into my mouth, downed it with a glass of water. Then I saw the mound of dishes in the sink. Figured I’d deal with those real quick before I traipsed off to Neverland.

Then I felt a bit light-headed.

Oh yeah…I remembered the doc’s warning.

I’d better go to bed. The dishes can wait.

I made it to my bed. Slid between the covers for a trip into Lalaville. I hollered a goodnight to MSH.

Then the bookshelf moved.

Correction. The bookshelf morphed. It became a large round bookshelf. Which then became a large elephant. I yelled at MSH to come see the really cool bookshelf trick. He yelled something back that I couldn’t hear over the shower water running. I insisted he needed to get out of the shower and see this amazing thing our bookshelf could do.

I remember the bookshelf then floated off the floor and hovered between the bed and the shower room. I vaguely remember my middle daughter talking to me and calling out for her dad.

She tells me that I talked about the happy elephant shelf  becoming a potato, a floating potato to be precise. The colors were so pretty apparently. Then the potato was sad. A sad, sad potato. According to my daughter I became fairly nonsensical after that. Finally, she says I let my head rest on the pillow and drifted off the sleep.

The next morning I woke refreshed, but nothing stellar happened. No sun, stars or clouds singing or dancing. I simply felt rested.

Then I heard the tale of my nighttime exploits. Hard to believe, but two people swore it really happened. It felt real, I almost remembered some of it and so I believed them.

We refer to this as “the happy potato incident.” Not sure why, since the potato was apparently very sad. Happy potatoes sound better, I suppose. Who wants to remember sad potatoes. Mushy, smelly, drippy, rotting potatoes. Yuck.

English: A Sleeping moon in a cap.

I wrote “HALLUCINATIONS” on the prescription bottle for this sleep inducing, hallucinogenic drug and have never taken it again.

I’ve since learned there are even more bizarre experiences documented in many places on the internet about this particular sleeping med. I was lucky I stayed in my bed and didn’t wander. I was fortunate not to eat anything inedible. I was grateful to be among family.

Sleep and I still have a tempestuous relationship. Sometimes we are fine bedfellows. Other times we fight and argue and disagree about how much time we should spend together.

More is usually better, if you ask me.

Isn’t that what everyone wants out of a relationship?

Categories: Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Clearing the Cache in My Brain and Wishing for Rain

I just need to say this…

You know that thing you do when your computer gets sluggish? Turn the whole thing off completely, then turn it back on. I think it’s called a hard reboot or maybe that’s clearing the cache.  Or maybe they’re the same thing or not at all related. I only know that if the computer or my smart phone behave badly, turning it off and then back on will often solve the problem.

I’m sorry If you’re a computer person and you’re cringing right now.

What I’m getting at is that humans need a process like that.

Actually, I think they do. It’s called sleep. Switch off for a few hours, ideally eight, and then restart. The human warms up and begins functioning as it should again.

sleep

sleep (Photo credit: Sean MacEntee)

The amount of sleep seems important, not just the off/on thing.

I’ve let my sleep take a hit the past couple of weeks. A little off the beginning, a little off the end most nights. And instead of eight hours, it’s more like six. Then a few five-hour nights and I get sluggishly slow in response times.

Add in a really short night’s sleep, say two or three hours, and bam. Sentences fall apart. New words get created that are gibberish. Driving isn’t recommended.

Even a nap just seems to aggravate things. I need two or three solid nights of uninterrupted slumber to get my groove back.

And another thing…

Virga, Valley, Mountains

Virga (Photo credit: sea turtle)

All day it’s looked like it wants to rain. That kind of teasing isn’t nice to do to desert dwellers. Give me sunshine, or possibly high, thin clouds, or actual rain splashing down from the sky onto the ground. But don’t do the gray sky, virga, smell of rain on the breeze thing. It raises our hopes.

Just saying.

And all this whininess is because…

Lonely Monkey Ape at Zoo

Lonely Monkey (Photo credit: epSos.de)

My cousin isn’t here anymore. And I miss her. Already. A Bunch.

Yup. It was a short visit. But we packed it full to the brim. Saturday felt like three days in one. Even today had a kind of time warp feel to it. Nice. She lifts my heart and makes life cheery and wonderful.

She’s getting on a plane any second here. So now I am feeling blue. It’s temporary. It’s that blue funk I’ve written about before. I’ll be okay.

I kind of need to wallow in it. Sorry to involve you. I’ll try to find a good joke, or story, or something fun for tomorrow.

To summarize…

  • Wish me happy dreams.
  • Pray for rain.
  • Feeling sorry for myself, but only for a little while.
Another Fun and Safety Guide

Another Fun and Safety Guide (Photo credit: Sam Howzit)

May the force be with you. Keep your hands and legs inside the ride at all times. Drive safely. Just say no to drugs. Call if you’re going to be late. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.  Have a nice day. And turn off the lights when you leave the room.

Categories: Mental Health, Relationships, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Sleepless in Phoenix, Or a Suburb Nearby

Caffeine has a significant effect on spiders, ...

Caffeine has a significant effect on spiders, which is reflected in the construction of their webs. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Either the decaffeinated soda I had at the movie wasn’t, or my brain is being hotwired by miniature gangsters.  Little zingers of electricity keep pulsing through my head every twenty to fifty seconds, just enough to keep me from dropping into dreamland for some much-needed rest.

Today Yesterday was my first Saturday back at real life after my three-week attempt at turning my body inside out through the process of coughing. Luckily the experiment failed and I remain skin side out. I’m a bit tuckered. I think I might have overdone it with the weekend warrior thing so soon after recovery. Oh well.

It felt glorious to be out doing yard work, (remember I’m in Arizona, 75° F today, all the windows of the house open, sorry northerners.) I cleaned up most of the leaves that froze and fell when the temps dropped below freezing for our one week of winter, and I took care of the weeds that sprouted after last weekend’s glorious rain.

Equally satisfying was juicing oranges from our backyard tree, mopping up the mess afterwards and getting some household tasks done that I’d neglected for a month or two.  I also successfully avoided battling the Saturday grocery store crowd by simply not going. I didn’t dust, but I did open the windows and air the house out, which probably added a layer of dust.

So yes, a tiring but satisfying and productive Saturday.  You can insert whatever image of me you want to conjure, smiling happily, wiping the sweat from my brow, cheek smudged with dirt, hair sufficiently mussed. I’m inserting a lovely image of a caffeine molecule. Isn’t it pretty?

Caffeine mol2

Caffeine molecule model  (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Luckily this sleepless night won’t turn me into a frog princess for the entire week.  I can sleep all afternoon on Sunday, since I won’t be watching the Superbowl or the overpriced commercials. I’m not actually anti-football. I’m really just anti-doing-what-everyone-else-feels-compelled-to-do.

Once the game starts all the great walking paths will be deserted and it’ll be like an early morning walk, without the cold and without the sun in my eyes. Nap or walk, walk or nap, oh the indecision. Oh, oh, I could do both! What an idea!

The other bonus of being sleepless is being able to catch up on my blog reading. I’d gotten spoiled having all day long and all night long to troll the blogosphere while I was sickly. I think I spent way too much time reading. Is that really possible?

Now that I’m back at work, back on a schedule, and plugged back in to my audio book listening binge, I’ve had to pace myself with the blog reading and tangible book reading. Sigh. There’s a stack of eight books on my desk just begging me to open them. I have a feeling I’ll be pressing the renew button on my library website a few times.

Phoenix, a Cray X1E at Oak Ridge National Lab

A Cray X1E at Oak Ridge National Lab (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Speaking of the internet. Do you ever get the feeling that your entire life revolves around or is dependent on computers? Think about it. From buying groceries, even with cash, to finding out movie times, to communicating with anyone in any way except face to face, requires a computer involved in the process. Unnerving isn’t it?

Most people are in shock on hearing of someone who doesn’t own a computer or a cell phone or who aren’t connected somehow to the internet. I only feel envious. How glorious to live at such a slow pace. It’d be like going back in time twenty years.

That’d be tough to go backwards though. Once you’ve been exposed it’s like you’re a technology junkie for life. There is no going back. Sigh.

I guess having my bankcard mysteriously duplicated, used in some other state and subsequently decommissioned by the fraud detection dudes has put me on edge and made me a bit jaded.

I should be grateful, and I really am, that someone is brilliant enough to write software that recognizes that I can’t possibly be buying groceries or books from a brick and mortar store in one state while buying gas and soda in another state on the other side of the continent. Lucky me. Lucky bank account. Not that they could have bought much with the funds that are in there; another tank of gas, maybe a movie, some popcorn and an extra-large caffeinated soda.

Okay, okay. I’m done being a cranky whiner.

In my defense, the caffeine is still playing games with my brain cells; Space Invaders or Tetris, or both at the same time I think. I’m probably not accountable for anything I’ve written in this entire post.

My pillow keeps calling my name. I wish it’d stop.

Categories: Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: