perspective

Snoring

Do I snore? Do you snore? Or the real question should be: is snoring keeping you up at night?

For me the answer is sometimes snoring keeps me awake. Like today for example. My partner is snoring. Could be in another room, in the distance or up close and personal. Doesn’t matter if it’s the reclining chair, the couch, a nap in the car or in bed. Snoring is a must or a bust.

It seems snoring is a must or a habit that unconsciously happens on a regular basis and it’s not defined by location, sitting or laying position, or even regular sleep vs. nap sleep. It just happens. Frequently.

It’s also annoying on most days because it keeps me awake to an extent. Not always but enough times for me to document the noisy behavior and actually write about its variety. I may or may not even have a video collection of sounds.

Speaking of variety I was on a family vacation and sleeping quarters included an open living room in which family members claimed a couch spot. I can sleep anywhere allowing me to grab a spot without hesitation.

And then there was another and another. I nodded off quickly but awoke to what I assumed was my partner’s annoying snoring habit. I tried the normal covering of the ears. I made my quick video of the sound effects for proof and attempted to find my restful state again fully knowing the sound was not going away.

And then there was two. Two sounds. A kind of surround sound effect. Oh no, was my mind playing tricks on me? Not a chance! My partner’s sibling had snagged a spot in the open air sleeping space while I went to sleep. I had surround sound snoring in full effect!

It was almost the exact snore pattern. In the dark room, I could hear the tick of the clock and hoarse sound of snoring in each ear. A constant sound. Shallow breath, loud snore. A hicccup pattern or patterns of continuous snores. An abnormally loud snore that could have resembled a snort or two or three.

This torture went on an on. No end in sight. I finally saw the sunrise on the horizon. A peaceful sight. It was early but blissful. I was awakening and the sound was fading into the distance.

As the sun rose and the rooster made its morning announcement in the distance, the snoring faded. Each sibling out like a light. Not even remotely aware of their snore fest mimicking a Fourth of July fireworks display to others nearby.

How do you coexist with snoring? Could I snore as bad as they do? How does one fix their snoring problem? Is there snore etiquette when you have a sleepover of sorts as adults? Is snoring even an issue for kids?

Ah, so many questions. Since it’s the wee hours of the morning and I am somewhat sleep deprived I will move on from this post as I’m sure it’s not all that exciting to most.

Do you have a funny snore story to share? If so, drop us a comment or send us a note. We love to hear from our readers and/or snorers. Hope this post didn’t put you to sleep.

family

A Cast From the Past

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Sometimes you run across a piece of paper that stops you in your tracks.

I was going through some boxes of old family “stuff” when I found a large old brown envelope of sympathy cards.  After sifting through several of them, I realized they were cards sent to my maternal grandmother when my grandfather, her husband, passed away.

Holding those cards transported me back to when I was about 6 or 7 years old.  He was the first person that I can remember dying.   I recall I had a solo singing Jingle Bell Rock in my school first grade Christmas program. I wore a green dress with candy canes on the bib and a white blouse with a scalloped collar.  I remember my mother wasn’t there to see me sing.  At that age, I couldn’t really understand what was happening.  Why my mom sat slumped over on the bed, her back to me, sobbing.

All I knew was my mother wasn’t there to see me sing.

Flipping through the cards now. So many beautiful cards, most simply finished with a signature. Names I didn’t know. People who loved and remembered.

Then, a different kind of card.  No lilies or angels or cursive sympathies.  Flat. Engraved with black letters. Someone had given a book to a library as a way to honor my grandfather’s death.  And it was a book about fishing.

It was a full circle moment for a couple of reasons.  First, I am a librarian.  So a book memorial has special meaning for me.  And then, my daughter, Dianne, who bears the name of my mother, loves fishing.  So knowing there is a book out there, in a library somewhere, all about fishing, to honor my granddad felt both sublime and bittersweet.

Finding that card was like a cord running through generations. A moment of connection with a long distant past. I had no idea my grandfather loved fishing, even though he lived a stone’s throw from Lake Chautauqua.  It was a smile down from a man lost decades ago as well as his daughter, to me and my own daughter who shares her name.

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perspective

Bird Poop

Birds fly by, zoom zoom. Nobody cares. General flights of birds cause no harm to humans. Life goes on for many.

Birds fly by and poop on your car and people get annoyed. It’s gross. You have to clean it and some times it’s just overly nasty. Again, life goes on.

Birds fly by and one launches a missile of turd on you, a human. Gross is not the word that comes to mind. It’s more like a shriek, eww, nasty and so many more words. A wet splatter. A solid turd. All combined in white, black, yellow coloring. Do you think they say ready, set, aim? Do they think the world below is a modern day potty?

I heard it’s good luck to be shit on by bird. I guess only time will tell if luck is on my side. I will tell you however that a bird shitting on you doesn’t feel good.

It’s wet. It’s dirty. It’s gooey. It’s just down right gross. I’m sparing you a picture on this one but felt it was important to share the rarity of being shit on by a bird.

I guess we have all been shit on by a human at some point in life and that is most likely more long-term suffering than a quick splat that is gone as soon as you cleanse the area.

Do you think birds carry corona? Just a random share on this hump day.

dare to be different

Puzzles

“Raise your hand if you’re a puzzle person,” I said, shaking a jigsaw puzzle box.

It’s a request I made at the beginning of a staff training I did a couple of years ago.  Maybe a third of the hands in the room shot up.  Everyone else either shook their heads “no way” or shrugged.

How do you become a puzzle person, I asked?  Those who shot their hands up said things like, we did them as a family growing up.  My friends and family told me I was good at them. Puzzles take time, sometimes collaboration, and persistence to achieve a goal.

For puzzle people, puzzles are associated with good feelings and success.  Those feel-good experiences can contribute to what we we are good at and who we are, or rather, who we think we are.  Most of the non-puzzle people simply didn’t grow up doing them or got frustrated a few times and decided (or were told) they weren’t good at them to begin with.

So it goes with many things.  From a young age, the things we spend time on and feel successful at (whether we learn that from experiences or what we are told) shape who we think we are and what we say we are good at.

As for me, I was told I was smart, good at school, and naturally skilled at test taking. These didn’t require too much effort from me.  I breezed through my early years and took in the accolades.

But, I wasn’t really a puzzle person.  I focused on the things that came easily for me, and whatever didn’t come easily I learned to avoid.  Unlike many puzzle people, who learn to try, try again, and even set things aside when they get frustrated or stuck and return to the puzzle later, I had little persistence or resilience in the face of adversity.

Well, as of this moment (at my not-so-young age) I am raising my hand and declaring myself a puzzle person.

I am embracing the problems I face as puzzles to be figured out instead.

I don’t have to have it all solved immediately.  It doesn’t even have to come easily.  As I make myself vulnerable more often and take on bigger, more complicated tasks, I know I have to remind my mind not to get frustrated or shut down.  I may have to be coached (which means – eek! – being coachable, which I am decidedly NOT when I am feeling overwhelmed, afraid, or out of my depth). Like riding a bicycle, then trying to do a trick or two, I may flop.  The world will not end and I can try again.

I’m shaking life’s box of problems as puzzles, dumping out the pieces, searching for the corners and the edges.  I don’t really have a full picture of what it will look like in the end for reference, but that’s all part of the process.  It will be beautiful, whatever it becomes.

 

 

 

adventure

Short Chapter, Long Story

Little known fact about me as a reader: I LOVE short chapters.

When I start a chapter, I often (ahem, always) find myself flipping forward, scanning to see how long the chapter is.  If it’s short, I am much more motivated to keep reading with interest.  Long chapters bog me down.  Ever since my third grade teacher read Sideways Stories from Wayside School aloud, each chapter just a handful of punchy, memorable pages, I’ve been a short chapter fan.  I like to see the story move.  I like to see progress.

By contrast, many chapters in my life tend to be on the long side.  I’m a slow thinker, a slow decision maker.  Not many cliffhangers.  Relatively few unexpected turns.  Pretty predictable.  Not really the stuff of a best seller.

Every once in a while, though, life takes a truly unexpected turn.  Things that I thought were fated or immovable turn out to be flexible.  Something that was maybe just a glimmer on a far off horizon explodes into the sky at staggering speed. An opportunity brought into my story by one of its most adventurous characters. A plot twist even I didn’t see coming.

And, in a surprising move, instead of watching the story fly by, this time I actually grabbed onto the streaking star and decided to ride along.  Instead of watching stories happen for others, I jumped in, embraced the promising unknown, and decided to start a chapter that is entirely new.  For many, it will be a jaw dropper, a head scratcher, even a whisper-behind-the-back moment.  Let them watch, confusion to amazement.

Sunsets and sunrises somewhere different.  Dramatic changes in just a handful of punchy, memorable pages.

A short chapter, yes.  A beautiful, breathtaking plot twist in a long, long story.