Is She Really Dead?   By Ali Williams  

 March 5, 2011

The local newspaper reported that she died October 26, 2008. No details were given other than age and city.

One friend was upset because her services were being held at the opposite funeral home from the one he worked at. Patients were calling the front desk at the eye clinic where she had worked. People about town were buzzing with news about her untimely death.

“She looked so good the last time we saw her,” they said. “She never mentioned being sick.” Another woman cried inconsolably over the loss of her friend. She cried for two more weeks before learning she had been misinformed.

As it turns out, I was very much alive and reported to the office as usual. Totally unaware of the telephone chaos going on at the front desk, I went about my daily tasks. It was only later that I found out sixteen calls came in to check the status of my deadness.

Several weeks before the big day, I had been made aware of another lady with the same name as me who was dying of cancer.  It never occurred to me that this would create fallout in my life.

At first it was confusing, then heartwarming to be alive and see how many deeply cared.

Moral of the Story:  There’s nothing like a preview of your own demise to find out how many people care.

Joyful Me by Ali Williams           2010/10/23

Opening my front door,

I feel the sunlight’s warmth.

The gentle breeze beckons

come outside and play.

Say no to the list of things undone,

The wind whispers –

Put housework and laborious chores aside

Come – have an adventure.

Leave your cares behind.

Release your inner child

Frolic in the leaves.

Listen to the songs of birds.

Drink in the vibrant beauty

of autumn’s flowers.

Enjoy being alive.

Inhale the scents of perfumed air.

Take in the smell of burning leaves.

a barbecue and

the fresh smells of tar

in a nearby parking lot.

As buzzards circle high in the clouds,

gliding on currents of air

mockingbirds sing

their melodious tunes,

for all to hear.

Squirrels gather nuts to store,

they rustle in the leaves.

Maples, red as fire,

shed their summer attire.

I never liked fall

Because winter’s sting

is close at hand.

But, this year seems different.

This fall seems really grand.

“Where’d you get that copy of Woman’s World?” he asked with simple curiosity, as I sat in the corner of his recovery room at the hospital. I was sure he was accusing me of something. I paused, “Harp’s,” I said timidly, as the guilt rushed through my blood.

“You used to get that magazine didn’t you?” he asked. “Yes, I used to buy it every week, but I’m trying to cut down on my impulse purchases. You know impulse purchases like the new car I just bought.” After a fit of hysterical laughter he said, “Never deprive yourself of indulgences in that category, especially those under $5.00, especially reading materials.”

“What about new clothes for my dog, do they count as impulse purchases?” I asked. “I’m sure I lack the ability to evaluate such purchases,” he said. “Although, I’d feel much better if you bought his outfits at the Salvation Army Thrift Shop,” he added.

“What about the two bars of Fels Naptha soap I bought yesterday,” I asked. “Yeah, it’s a problem as it lasts two years even if you use it robustly,” he said. “But, what if I drop a bar behind the washing machine and it’s laundry day and I don’t want to go to the store?” I asked. “Drop a lot of bars of soap behind the washer, do yeah? I suppose you’d have to use a real stain remover,” he replied. “They might not always have Fels Naptha at the store,” I said. “It’s Fels Naptha for God’s sake. They’ve carried it forever and they always will. Besides, you don’t even know if it works better than the six stain removers you already have,” he said.

“My mom used to use it and if it was good enough for mom… She would have us cut it up in slivers and pour boiling water over it. Then, when it turned to gel, we’d pour it into the washing machine. That was back in the wringer washer days. That’s pretty close to forever,” I remarked.

I’m reminded of the time that I added salt to the existing salt shaker. He asked, “Did you buy a new container of this?” “No, I just added to it from the bulk refill package,” I said. “That’s great,” he replied.

“Wait a minute, did you actually feel guilty buying that Woman’s World magazine?” he asked. Apparently he saw the look I so desperately tried to hide from him. “Well, yeah I was sure you were going to chastise me for another frivolous purchase,” I replied.

“Well, I’m not as bad as I used to be. I used to buy milk every week or two just in case I might want a bowl of cereal. Then it would out date and I’d start the process all over. I don’t do that anymore,” I said. “Yes, but you don’t eat cereal, so how hard was that, and how long after you quit eating cereal did you continue buying milk?” he inquired.

“You buy the jumbo bag of carrots when we still have three pounds left in the refrigerator,” he said. “Yes, but I like the large carrots they put in the five pound bags. The two pound bags only come with skinny carrots,” I remarked. “Yes, but you eat carrots just three times a month,” he said. “That’s not my fault, I remarked, I’d eat them every day.”

You know, I’m not a hoarder. Nothing that I buy gets in the way of living my life. There are no piles in the living room and only a small one in the bedroom. Besides, when I no longer use items I donate them to others or take them to the local thrift shops.

It may come as no surprise that we never watch the TV show, Monk. Perhaps it’s because we don’t think anything he does is that unusual.

Moral of the Story: Sometimes, but not always, it pays to be prepared.

I left the house this morning as I had every morning, checking the lights, setting the thermostat, gathering my belongings, tuning the radio, and kissing the dog goodbye. All seemed in order as the screen door closed behind me, with a quiet hiss.

Walking across the next door lawn and crossing the gravel parking lot, I arrived at the office. As I opened the door, a cool blast of air greeted me and I was thankful to leave the humid 90 + degree day outside and enter the air conditioned world of the clinic.

The morning flew by with the ordinary duties and lunch time was rapidly approaching. Sheila stopped in my doorway and asked, “What are you doing for lunch?” “Nothing planned,” I answered. “Want to go out for lunch again?” She nodded her head. We had already eaten out twice this week and this day was not going to be an exception.

We chose to eat at one of our favorite restaurants. The food was great,  the conversation lively. The hour passed quickly.

Returning home, I hurried into the house to take the dog for his customary noon-time walk. A strange feeling passed over me as I entered the house. The dog greeted me with his usual excitement, so what could be amiss?

Then I spotted it. The blueberry carton was sitting on the kitchen counter. There were berries in the box, but at least a handful was missing. My startling conclusion was that the elusive blueberry bandit had struck.

With the skills of a crime scene investigator, I quickly assessed the scene. The blueberry box was still cold and neatly closed. Nothing else appeared to have been disturbed. There were limited keys to the house.  I concluded that my friend had been visiting while I was gone.

I couldn’t resist sending him an email. RE: Noon visit. Sorry I missed you.

“How did you know I was there?” he said. “I’ll never tell,” I answered. “Let’s see,” he said. “Did I eat anything? “Did I leave the blueberries on the counter?” “Yes,” I answered.

But, when I got home that evening, there was another clue. After washing my hands, I picked up the towel to dry them. Underneath the kitchen towel was a large, soft blueberry. It was warm to the touch. My CSI skills told me it had been there for approximately four hours.

When I revealed the latest clue to my friend, we laughed. He said, “That’s got to be a blog post.”

Moral of the story: When you watch enough CSI, there’s always a clue or two.

It seems I have a high degree of distractibility. I’m a doer, always buzzing around getting things done. But, some days it felt like I had worked and worked but accomplished little. I would be exhausted at the end of the day, but have little to show for the effort. Like a gerbil on a wheel, spinning away, wearing himself out, but going nowhere.

Starting out to do a task, I would be easily sidetracked. For instance, if I headed to the closet for clean towels, I could end up in the office watering plants, or outside sweeping the front porch. I would get parts of things done, but rarely the whole job. That would set up a cycle of procrastination. The chores would pile up so high that I felt as though I was trying to shovel a mountain of dirt with a teaspoon. This led to feeling overwhelmed and never wanting to start a project. Round and round the cycle went. Like a Ferris wheel out of control or a giant snowball always chasing me down a hill.

It seemed I was always worn out from just thinking about projects. Being a proponent of self help and behavior modification, I remembered a technique I had seen on TV devised to help people quit smoking. It consisted of a rubber band worn on the wrist. When the desire to smoke presented itself, the rubber band was pulled and released. I wondered if it could be applied to the distractibility issue in my life.

I set up a program for myself that would create small attainable goals. These are some of the steps I used.  First, I would assess my energy level. I asked myself the question, “Is this a better day for brain tasks or physical energy chores and indoor or outdoor jobs?” Next, tasks were written on a list. Finally, they were prioritized according to importance, time deadlines, length of time needed to complete, and amount and type of energy necessary for the job.

At first, these decisions were very difficult to make. I started with just one or two small tasks. That enabled me to complete them and feel the satisfaction of a job well done. That reward would motivate me to try again on a larger project.

My distractibility level has improved, but does vary from day to day. It is not much of a problem at the office because my priorities are pretty well established. At home, however, it can still be a problem when trying to get things done.

When beginning this approach, I used the wrist rubber band as a deterrent to getting out of focus. After the task had been identified, described and spoken aloud, I would wear the wrist band and snap it if I ran off course and noticed myself wandering about the house doing other things. Now, I am much better at identifying my distracted behavior. A silent or verbal command reinforces similar to the rubber band snap. The word, focus, seems to work best for me. I can almost see the wrist band and feel the sting of the snap when I give myself the command to Focus.

I found the word, Focus, in a beautiful advertisement in colors, size, and type style that I liked. I reproduced and laminated it. Placed in several prominent locations, these reproductions serve as reminders to my brain to stay on track and move toward completing the task at hand rather than going off into LaLa Land.  There’s something about looking at the word and saying it softly that works for me.

The to–do lists are mine. I can do with them what I want. They are not carved in stone. They are flexible and friendly. They are doable. There is no way I can fail. There are always small tasks included that can be completed quickly for a fairly instant reward. If I want to eliminate a chore for now, that is my prerogative. It’s a win, win program.

The challenge of high distractibility will probably always be with me, but with these simple tricks, I have minimized the grip it had on my functioning. It is quite amazing how focused I have become and how much I can accomplish.

Moral of the Story:  Take time out to smell the roses, unless you’re supposed to be vacuuming the carpet.

It started out just like any ordinary Monday morning. Getting up, rushing around, you know the drill. Weather wise, it wasn’t spectacular. Fog was visible, but gradually lifting. In fact, it promised to be a warm and sunny day. After the bleak and rainy weekend, it would be a welcome change. I finished walking the dog, got ready, and headed off to work.

Opening the office door, I felt an unfamiliar wave of energy brush past me. Briefly wondering what that was all about, I refocused and entered my office. Nothing appeared to be amiss, so I chalked it up to Monday morning malaise, the result of having to return to work after having three glorious days off. Mondays at a medical clinic are always hectic, but this was unusual.

Coworkers were moving through the building at their usual pace. But I noticed the familiar joviality and catching up on weekend gossip wasn’t present. Wondering about that, I logged into the computer. It was very slow. Slower than usual. This was different. Gremlins were afoot.

After the storm last Thursday, rumor had it that lightning had struck very near the building. They said it may have even struck the phone system. Perhaps that was what was causing the feelings of discontent. Prioritizing my tasks for the day, I decided to return patient phone calls.

Phone messages in hand, I dialed the first number. Great, my phone is still working, I thought. “Hello,” the person answered. “Hello, I’m returning your call, how can I help you,” I replied. “Hello, hello, hello,” the party said again. That was when it hit me, I could hear her, but she could not hear me. Resorting to my cell phone, I quickly returned her call and explained the problems we were having with the phone system.

Heading down the hall to report my phone experience, I met the telephone repairman. He had been working on the phone problems since last Friday. It appeared that lightening had indeed struck the system and fried various parts and ports. This was causing gremlin- like problems of epic proportion.

Some of the phones only called out, some only received incoming calls. Other phones only rang and to make matters worse, rang loudly with every incoming call. Several of the lines were dead. Needless to say, this was bringing any semblance of efficient office functioning to a screeching halt. The front desk workers were rapidly losing their sense of humor. Monday mornings are always high volume, stressful days for them and this wasn’t helping.  Routing calls was difficult and precarious.

Service was restored to my phone by merely unplugging the headset. It appeared that either the headset or the headset port had been damaged by the storm. The central system had been patched and the repairmen were hoping it would last until the total damage can be assessed and a new system put into place. They indicated that electricity can remain in the lines for quite awhile after a lightning strike, continuing to do damage. Wow, I had no idea.

I know they said the damage was caused by lightning, but I still prefer the gremlin theory. After all, Gremlins was one of my favorite movies. Wondered if the insurance covered gremlin damage? How would we fill out the report? Guess it would probably be easier to blame it on the weather.

Moral of the Story: Sometimes a ringing phone can’t be answered.