Tuesday, March 3, 2020
Doing your thing...
I do my thing,
And you do your thing.
I am not in this world
To live up to your expectations,
And you are not in this world
To live up to mine.
You are you,
And I am I...
And if by chance we find each other,
It's beautiful.
~Fritz Perls
Those dwarf moments...
Believe it or not, but I actually came across this saying years ago by Benjamin Disraeli:
Life is too SHORT to be LITTLE.
Now and then when I am standing on a twelve inch step stool, I will suddenly have one of those "what if" moments. The moments when I pause, and cannot help but imagine how different my life would be if I had just those twelve inches more. There would certainly be more I could reach. Also, I definitely would be seen as just another human rather than being this "object" of ridicule and meanness by all the rude ones out there if I had twelve more inches. And I surely would not have all the pain and physical battles I live with.
After a moment I step back down off the stool and return to reality again...with my attitude of gratitude.
I know how blessed I am. Many Little People much shorter than me cannot even reach door knobs or light switches...things most take for granted. And many Little People are far more physically challenged than I, because their legs are terribly bowed necessitating a series of painful knee, ankle, and hip surgeries...then shoulder surgeries. Also as I touched on in a earlier blog, many Little People have very short arms, feet, fingers, and hands. Many of us are short because our long bones are not the normal lengths, however, we have the same muscle mass as an average height person, thus giving Little People the appearance of being chubby. In addition, many Little People are confined to wheelchairs. There are also some types of dwarfism which include severe respiratory problems and other very painful, challenging issues. And on and on it goes.
The world has many very brave courageous Little People out there living with overwhelming challenges far more debilitating than mine, and I have been blessed to know some of them.
Several years ago, prior to social media taking off, I created a Little People Living With Pain online support group for Little People of all ages, including children, and their parents, including parents of average height. Since there was not anything else like it online then, the group really took off, giving children, parents, and adult Little People a platform to share their terrible pain issues and more they were living with, besides a place to learn, be encouraged...or to just be heard.
In my eyes they were all heroic. I had several members who were not only confined to wheelchairs, but were living with terribly severe respiratory problems due to the types of dwarfism they had. My heart would break for them.
During the years I kept the group going, some died...all young, brave, amazing, and dear, who touched everyone deeply.
So always whenever I have one of "those moments," I grab hold of my "gratitude attitude," and remember just how blessed I am. For you see, there are always others battling more than ourselves out there, who inspire by how very tall they walk and their courage.
Life is too SHORT to be LITTLE.
Now and then when I am standing on a twelve inch step stool, I will suddenly have one of those "what if" moments. The moments when I pause, and cannot help but imagine how different my life would be if I had just those twelve inches more. There would certainly be more I could reach. Also, I definitely would be seen as just another human rather than being this "object" of ridicule and meanness by all the rude ones out there if I had twelve more inches. And I surely would not have all the pain and physical battles I live with.
After a moment I step back down off the stool and return to reality again...with my attitude of gratitude.
I know how blessed I am. Many Little People much shorter than me cannot even reach door knobs or light switches...things most take for granted. And many Little People are far more physically challenged than I, because their legs are terribly bowed necessitating a series of painful knee, ankle, and hip surgeries...then shoulder surgeries. Also as I touched on in a earlier blog, many Little People have very short arms, feet, fingers, and hands. Many of us are short because our long bones are not the normal lengths, however, we have the same muscle mass as an average height person, thus giving Little People the appearance of being chubby. In addition, many Little People are confined to wheelchairs. There are also some types of dwarfism which include severe respiratory problems and other very painful, challenging issues. And on and on it goes.
The world has many very brave courageous Little People out there living with overwhelming challenges far more debilitating than mine, and I have been blessed to know some of them.
Several years ago, prior to social media taking off, I created a Little People Living With Pain online support group for Little People of all ages, including children, and their parents, including parents of average height. Since there was not anything else like it online then, the group really took off, giving children, parents, and adult Little People a platform to share their terrible pain issues and more they were living with, besides a place to learn, be encouraged...or to just be heard.
In my eyes they were all heroic. I had several members who were not only confined to wheelchairs, but were living with terribly severe respiratory problems due to the types of dwarfism they had. My heart would break for them.
During the years I kept the group going, some died...all young, brave, amazing, and dear, who touched everyone deeply.
So always whenever I have one of "those moments," I grab hold of my "gratitude attitude," and remember just how blessed I am. For you see, there are always others battling more than ourselves out there, who inspire by how very tall they walk and their courage.
Monday, March 2, 2020
My horse Bashum and Oakey Doak...Part I
My horse Bashum, was a lovely brown, black, and white pinto horse and like all of mine, I loved him dearly. And Bashum and I happened to acquire a very special friend who hated the color red, who attached himself to us...
One of my fellow boarders had purchased some goats, and kept them in a pen near the barn. Only one of them decided he preferred being with Bashum instead, and kept escaping from the pen just to be with him...until finally he was with Bashum for good.
I had a feeling this would be coming...one day I received a call from John, who owned the goats.
"Adelaide, how are you doing?"
"Hanging in there! And YOU?"
"I'm doing the same."
Then silence.
"Uh John, what's up?"
"Well...I uh...you see...uh...someone bought my goats...but since I couldn't catch the one attached to Bashum, I decided to give him to you. Besides, EVERYONE is saying it would be such a shame to separate those two anyway..."
So this is how Adelaide became the proud owner of a very obsessed little black goat named Oakey Doak who hated the color red. To be honest, I had already grown very attached to the little squirt anyway. Obviously Bashum adored him. It was so charming to call Bashum when I would arrive at the farm, and see him galloping to me with dear little Oakey Doak coming right behind him as fast as he could.
Oakey Doak went everywhere Bashum and I rode...though off the farm I limited the distances out of concern for the little one.
Often well meaning people would stop and ask if I knew there was a goat following us. DUH.
Now goats can sometimes be territorial, and Oakey Doak was no exception. He would go bonkers if he saw his reflection in a shiny car...which then meant attacking it with his little horns. None of us at the farm had shiny cars, so I didn't know Oakey Doak had this desire to seriously injure his reflection...until the first time this happened (thankfully without any damage!) to someone's Mercedes which DEFINITELY was not at the farm. From then on I kept him on a lead rope while riding off farm. Did I say the little fart also did not like the color red yet?
Please continue to Part II to see what Oakey Doak got us into one day...
One of my fellow boarders had purchased some goats, and kept them in a pen near the barn. Only one of them decided he preferred being with Bashum instead, and kept escaping from the pen just to be with him...until finally he was with Bashum for good.
I had a feeling this would be coming...one day I received a call from John, who owned the goats.
"Adelaide, how are you doing?"
"Hanging in there! And YOU?"
"I'm doing the same."
Then silence.
"Uh John, what's up?"
"Well...I uh...you see...uh...someone bought my goats...but since I couldn't catch the one attached to Bashum, I decided to give him to you. Besides, EVERYONE is saying it would be such a shame to separate those two anyway..."
So this is how Adelaide became the proud owner of a very obsessed little black goat named Oakey Doak who hated the color red. To be honest, I had already grown very attached to the little squirt anyway. Obviously Bashum adored him. It was so charming to call Bashum when I would arrive at the farm, and see him galloping to me with dear little Oakey Doak coming right behind him as fast as he could.
Oakey Doak went everywhere Bashum and I rode...though off the farm I limited the distances out of concern for the little one.
Often well meaning people would stop and ask if I knew there was a goat following us. DUH.
Now goats can sometimes be territorial, and Oakey Doak was no exception. He would go bonkers if he saw his reflection in a shiny car...which then meant attacking it with his little horns. None of us at the farm had shiny cars, so I didn't know Oakey Doak had this desire to seriously injure his reflection...until the first time this happened (thankfully without any damage!) to someone's Mercedes which DEFINITELY was not at the farm. From then on I kept him on a lead rope while riding off farm. Did I say the little fart also did not like the color red yet?
Please continue to Part II to see what Oakey Doak got us into one day...
My horse Bashum and Oakey Doak, Part II...
Remember, if I haven't made this clear yet, Oakey Doak hated the color red...
Sometime after I acquired the little goat, my friend Rory and his horse Ben went riding with us one day on these amazing trails which opened up into this vast park with a huge lake. It was July 4th. Remember that...July 4th.
When Rory and I, our horses, and a goat who hates red arrived at the park where horses were allowed, we encountered a huge group of people having a picnic. The kids, not used to seeing horses, came running over to us squealing.
LOUDLY squealing.
This in turn frightened the horses. I was riding bareback as usual, so when Bashum suddenly leaped sideways in fear, I very heroically managed to stay on...but...BUT...I dropped Oakey Doak's lead rope! And it's July 4th, when people tend to wear RED, white, and blue!
In extremely quick succession, Oakey Doak saw a massive amount of red and realized he wasn't restrained anymore. Rory, quickly sizing up the situation, threw me Ben's reins, jumped off, and ran after Oakey Doak.
Thankfully, Oakey Doak was a very small goat, which we had in our favor. Next, all the kids...especially those dressed in bright red, thought the little goat was playing some kind of fun "goat tag" with them and were loving it!
Finally Rory was able to step on the lead rope as it went flying by at one point and stop Oakey Doak before he could shred lots of red clothing...or worse, gore somebody with his little horns.
As the adults oblivious to all this watched the action unfold before them, they were roaring with laughter! If they only knew!
By the time Oakey Doak's lead rope was safely back in my hand, there was thankfully only one casualty...a kid's RED T-shirt was missing a section out of it. However no one minded, because they said the goat and horses were SO entertaining. In fact they insisted upon taking pictures of us with everyone!
So somewhere out there may be a photo in an album of two horses, their riders, and a cute little goat with a section of red T-shirt hanging from his mouth, surrounded by a bunch of people...with the ones with red in their clothing having been asked to please stand as far away from that little goat as possible...
Sometime after I acquired the little goat, my friend Rory and his horse Ben went riding with us one day on these amazing trails which opened up into this vast park with a huge lake. It was July 4th. Remember that...July 4th.
When Rory and I, our horses, and a goat who hates red arrived at the park where horses were allowed, we encountered a huge group of people having a picnic. The kids, not used to seeing horses, came running over to us squealing.
LOUDLY squealing.
This in turn frightened the horses. I was riding bareback as usual, so when Bashum suddenly leaped sideways in fear, I very heroically managed to stay on...but...BUT...I dropped Oakey Doak's lead rope! And it's July 4th, when people tend to wear RED, white, and blue!
In extremely quick succession, Oakey Doak saw a massive amount of red and realized he wasn't restrained anymore. Rory, quickly sizing up the situation, threw me Ben's reins, jumped off, and ran after Oakey Doak.
Thankfully, Oakey Doak was a very small goat, which we had in our favor. Next, all the kids...especially those dressed in bright red, thought the little goat was playing some kind of fun "goat tag" with them and were loving it!
Finally Rory was able to step on the lead rope as it went flying by at one point and stop Oakey Doak before he could shred lots of red clothing...or worse, gore somebody with his little horns.
As the adults oblivious to all this watched the action unfold before them, they were roaring with laughter! If they only knew!
By the time Oakey Doak's lead rope was safely back in my hand, there was thankfully only one casualty...a kid's RED T-shirt was missing a section out of it. However no one minded, because they said the goat and horses were SO entertaining. In fact they insisted upon taking pictures of us with everyone!
So somewhere out there may be a photo in an album of two horses, their riders, and a cute little goat with a section of red T-shirt hanging from his mouth, surrounded by a bunch of people...with the ones with red in their clothing having been asked to please stand as far away from that little goat as possible...
Sunday, March 1, 2020
Monday humor...
A prayer to be said,
when the world has gotten you down,
and you just feel rotten,
and besides it is Monday...
anyway you're too darn tired to pray,
and you're in a huge hurry...
besides you're mad
at everybody...
...HELP.
The revolt...
Arise, go forth and conquer. ~Tennyson
Never underestimate the power of good that eight year olds can do to protect one of their own.
As I touched on in a earlier blog, I have always been blessed with the gift of friends. Including boyfriends. By the time we reached third grade, Jordan and I were best friends. We were serious too. We often innocently kissed on the lips, and THAT my friends, is serious.
We were always inventing new games the other kids loved, so we had a large circle of friends. And we would soon need each other to "play a much different game" eight year olds shouldn't have had to "play."
I only ever had one bad teacher...and she was BAD. Her name was Miss Peebles...and she was old as hell. And mean.
Miss Peebles apparently did not like children who were different. And I became her prime target.
The worse, most humiliating thing she did aside from the verbal abuse, was to constantly line us up from tallest to shortest for everything...recess, going to lunch, going to the restroom...everything. So you can guess who was always last, right?
What is so amazingly touching is how my classmates responded to this...
One day at the merry-go-round, where Richard gathered us all, he said, "Who doesn't like what Peebles is doing to Adelaide?" Everyone raised their hands.
"Okay, we have got to do something."
"But what?" said Debbie. "We're only kids."
"Yeah, who is going to listen to us?" said Saundra.
Mike asked, "What if she's a witch or something?"
We all certainly agreed she was something that rhymed with witch.
Then Jordan had an idea...
"We're gonna tell our parents, and keep telling them till they do something."
"That's right," said Richard. "Adelaide is our friend and we have to help."
WOW...talk about the power of friendship, and a bunch of eight year olds who cared!
And they all DID talk to their parents. Then those parents began talking to the Principal and even the school board.
Since Miss Peebles was going to retire after the school year anyway, she was made to "retire" much sooner. A substitute teacher was brought in, and what a difference!
The most important difference? NOT lining up from tallest to shortest anymore.
This could have been another very dark memory of my childhood, but it wasn't...all because my eight year old classmates took a brave stand on my behalf.
Now THAT is yet another treasure I hold very dearly, my friends.
Never underestimate the power of good that eight year olds can do to protect one of their own.
As I touched on in a earlier blog, I have always been blessed with the gift of friends. Including boyfriends. By the time we reached third grade, Jordan and I were best friends. We were serious too. We often innocently kissed on the lips, and THAT my friends, is serious.
We were always inventing new games the other kids loved, so we had a large circle of friends. And we would soon need each other to "play a much different game" eight year olds shouldn't have had to "play."
I only ever had one bad teacher...and she was BAD. Her name was Miss Peebles...and she was old as hell. And mean.
Miss Peebles apparently did not like children who were different. And I became her prime target.
The worse, most humiliating thing she did aside from the verbal abuse, was to constantly line us up from tallest to shortest for everything...recess, going to lunch, going to the restroom...everything. So you can guess who was always last, right?
What is so amazingly touching is how my classmates responded to this...
One day at the merry-go-round, where Richard gathered us all, he said, "Who doesn't like what Peebles is doing to Adelaide?" Everyone raised their hands.
"Okay, we have got to do something."
"But what?" said Debbie. "We're only kids."
"Yeah, who is going to listen to us?" said Saundra.
Mike asked, "What if she's a witch or something?"
We all certainly agreed she was something that rhymed with witch.
Then Jordan had an idea...
"We're gonna tell our parents, and keep telling them till they do something."
"That's right," said Richard. "Adelaide is our friend and we have to help."
WOW...talk about the power of friendship, and a bunch of eight year olds who cared!
And they all DID talk to their parents. Then those parents began talking to the Principal and even the school board.
Since Miss Peebles was going to retire after the school year anyway, she was made to "retire" much sooner. A substitute teacher was brought in, and what a difference!
The most important difference? NOT lining up from tallest to shortest anymore.
This could have been another very dark memory of my childhood, but it wasn't...all because my eight year old classmates took a brave stand on my behalf.
Now THAT is yet another treasure I hold very dearly, my friends.
Art print...
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