Roadside Boxes

I often wonder about the boxes I see on the side of the road.  What's in them?  Could be trash.  Could be someone else's gross junk.  Could be something valuable.  I often wish I had more time or was more daring and actually stopped to check them out. 

I think it would be interesting to make a New Year's resolution to always leave early and take time to stop.  But if it was trash, then what would I do?  It would feel wrong to just leave it there.  Even though it wasn't mine to begin with, if I'm willing to claim something cool I think I would feel obligated to be responsible for the trash too.  This would be a good time for a pickup truck.

Of course, safety is a concern.  I should only stop on country roads, not highways.

If I'm going to do this, I'd better start soon.  If I start doing this, what will I do on 7/12/17?  If I'm going to have lunch with my kids on my potential last day on earth, and I pass a box, and I stop and die because somebody runs me over. . .  Or, what if I decide not to risk it THAT day, and unknowingly pass something REALLY valuable that could change my life.  But not stopping and saving my life would be a greater value than anything I could find.

One might say then why stop at all if it is a risk to my life.  I don't know if I will - but I sort of feel like a have somewhat of a free pass until 7/12/17.  I mean, within reason - I'm not going to go stand in front of a train or anything.

A New Song

Oddly, the day that I wrote the post about the song "How to Save a Life" I heard the song on the radio on the way home from work.  A few tear drops leaked out of my eyes but only two ran down my face.  The next day, on my way to work, I heard the song again and had absolutely no reaction.  I also heard "Seasons in the Sun", which I have previously posted about, and that one really got me crying.  Maybe it has replaced "How to Save a Life" as my emotional trigger.

It makes sense.  "How to Save a Life" was a trigger because of the suicide of my first husband in 2000.  So 16 years later I've made enough emotional progress beyond that event that I don't cry that easily.  Now I've moved on to a new emotional trigger - the thought of leaving my children behind when I die.

Pre-Diabetic

I went to the doctor the last month for a regularly scheduled medicine check.  Based on my lab work he said I'm pre-diabetic and should cut back on sugar and carbs.  On my way home I was running errands and was hungry so, pre-diabetes fully on my mind, I ate a bag of Cheetos.  Then I met my kids at Starbucks and went full-on Eggnog Latte Frappucino.  

Honestly I felt a little depressed that I'm going to HAVE to change my diet.  I've made lots of dietary changes because I wanted to, but never because I had to.  I mean, I don't HAVE to.  But I DON'T WANT to get into full-blown diabetes.  I've seen several people, including two in-laws, loose appendages and limbs to that horrible disease.

I've said before, I'm a wimp.  I definitely don't want to go through dialysis or even sticking my finger to check my blood sugar.  I did that when I was pregnant and had gestational diabetes and I reached my limit of finger pricking.

On the other hand, I don't want to die from complications of untreated diabetes.  I mean, hasn't that been a large part of this blog - me not wanting to die too soon.  So obviously if I can prolong my life by making some basic diet changes, I will do it.  I can do it.  I've been dabbling in nutrition for several years so I know I CAN do it.  But I don't WANT to do it.  Or, more rather, I don't WANT to HAVE to.

Socks

After my mother died I was responsible for disposing of all her things.  We had an estate sale for the larger stuff.  I donated a bunch of things.  But if it didn't sell at the estate sale and it seemed valuable or useful, I held on to it.  I have sold several items on eBay.  And I kept a few pieces of clothing and some socks.  

Sometimes my husband will ask me where I got this shirt or those pants.  I say, "I inherited them."  The other day I put on a pair of socks that had belonged to my mother and it occurred to me that if I die in less than a year, my daughter might inherit those same socks.  She probably wouldn't even know that they were her grandmother's.

Presidential Ponderings

The next time there is a presidential election my youngest son, now in fifth grade, will be in highschool. There is a "wow" factor in that.  Will I be alive?  There is an "oh" factor in that.

How to Save a Life

The Fray came out with their song "How to Save a Life" in 2005.  If you look at the lyrics it seems more like it is about a relationship ending than actually saving a life.  The two lines that stick with me in this song and that are often repeated throughout the song are:

And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

I actually can't hear this song without tears coming to my eyes.   It's funny because the person I did know that I did stay up with many nights trying to save his life, died in 2000 - well before this song came out.  So there are no shared memories that come flooding back when I hear this song.  I don't feel guilty about not saving his life on that final night.  (Not that I had a choice.)  The words just really touch me.

Actually, when the song first came out I would cry bunches when it came on the radio (usually while driving).  I would immediately change the station but I still knew the song was playing on the original station and so it was still on my mind and I would still cry. 

Now it feels like an automatic response - song comes on, I cry.  But I cry a lot less now.  The other day I actually listed to the song all the way through.  I think I only had about four tear drops leak out.

I don't really know what the point of this post is other than catharsis.  It doesn't directly relate to my future appointment on 7/12/17 although I suppose I could ponder what songs might make my loved ones cry after I'm gone.  But, who knows, the songs that make them cry may not even come out until 2022.

Bring Out the Heavy Equipment

This week it occurred to me how a funeral viewing can serve as the last visual someone has of a departed.  I know that in life I am not the most attractive person.  A birth defect left a facial scar.  My liver condition often results in blemishes and brown marks on my face.  My hair is genetically thin.  I mean, I'm not so bad as to scare small children but I'm not going to win any contests.  

Point being, I want people's last view of me to be spectacular.  

Attn: Future Mortician

Haul out the heavy equipment.   Bring your biggest air brush.  Get about 1,000 hair extensions.  

I want to look better in death than I ever did in life (but still recognizable).