REDONDOWRITER'S SACRED ORDINARY

Memiary: The Weightless Pocket Diary

Thanks to Elaine at Five Acres With a View for sharing the site for Memiary: The Weightless Pocket Diary.  Even though I keep a five year diary right before I go to bed, I'm finding this site helpful for helping me record things I've done throughout the day. It's like getting a gold star for being a "human doing," because something external acknowledges my doings. By my age you would think I wouldn't need gold stars, but when you live alone, you get very few, believe me. But--there are some of you who would say that you live with others and you don't get gold stars either.

Anything Looks Good With Wings

When I went to the twice-yearly Rubber Stamp Convention earlier in the month, I took lots of photos. With the economy struggling, many of the vendors aren't coming and a lot of the rubber stamp and paper craft stores are going out of business. Tonight I sorted all my Somerset Studio, Legacy and Cloth, Paper, Scissors magazines and began to sort my art books. Maybe I won't have a convention anymore to get ideas from. 

I always need someone to jump start my creativity and these two photos have given me lots of ideas for a Cookie art journal. Will I do anything about it? Who knows? Many people in the collage and paper arts have a fixation with putting wings, crowns or dunce caps on all kinds of images. Since I admit to having a thing about angels, I've got my own share of winged everythings--but never a dog. The following are pages in a person's art journal displayed at a booth at the convention. 

I've done virtually nothing about Christmas presents, cards or decorating and have no plans to do anything--yet. My blender literally went up in smoke on Thanksgiving day so I ventured into the stores today and they weren't very crowded. I now have a new blender and three poinsettias. I couldn't believe how many people were buying trees at Home Depot already.

Maybe I could make Christmas cards featuring Cookie with wings? 

Do You Believe in Human Hibernation?

In the world of science there are several research projects underway that study how animals who hibernate in the cold months might help us to figure out why some humans seem to "hibernate" when the weather gets colder and there is less light. The ground squirrel is one such animal being studied according to ABC News' story called "Squirrels Shed Light on Human Hibernation."

I have a lot of experience with ground squirrels because my neighborhood abounds with them; they make their homes in the oh-so-California palm trees but they raid all our yards to, for example, bedevil dogs and cats. Cookie says to tell you that she knows this first-hand. They also have to have somewhere to bury their peanuts they break out of the shells. Peanuts? "Someone" feeds the squirrels around here with massive amounts of peanuts--and I caught the person one day. It's an elderly man who walks daily with two friends; I know he means well, but one neighbor who shall remain unnamed is threatening to poison the squirrels in his yard. I never knew squirrels could be so destructive. I saw one today so I know they haven't hibernated yet. They have broken a few of my flowerpots, one Buddha sculpture, and two garden angels in their frantic attempts to bury their peanuts. They also systematically ripped apart a big lounge pillow filled with foam rubber. I guess they are preparing warm beds in the palms as they hunker down for the winter.

But, I digress. I'm entering human hibernation mode and it happens every year. Because of my age alone I find that I am slowing down, but I have to sorely discipline myself to do almost anything besides reading when I'm home once Christmas draws near. I'm not depressed, I might add, but I do admit to also storing up food, both in the cupboards and freezer, and in myself. I don't know where in the heck I'm going to get the energy to prepare for Christmas--or maybe this is the year I won't prepare.

It's a true blessing that I don't live where it is really cold as I become less and less tolerant of cold as I age. My main bed now has two down comforters and one electric blanket. Another side effect of the weather and the season, I guess, is that I could easily go days without checking snail mail, e-mail or writing on the blog--and I thought I was addicted, or at least disciplined, to the blog. What's worse is that I'm lazy about keeping up with my cyber friends' blogs. I could take the laptop to bed, but I don't even feel like doing that. And art? I actually put my work table away and I'm taking a hiatus--I think. I'm even thinking of disconnecting the answering machine. 

I have family, friends and activities that do keep me mobile in spite of my yearning to just go underground. I'm a human doing after all. Thank God I still work three days a week or I might not venture out, except to yard sales and thrift shops and the grocery store otherwise. 

From a spiritual point of view, I know that there is power in what I call human hibernation, but I'm too brain numb to go find the books that explain this. So, am I resonating with any of you? Do you have any tips about how you discipline yourself to keep from hibernating? I just watched CNN's Heroes, an amazing show, and those every day heroes don't hunker in their flannel jammies under the covers with a book. Do you think I need a life coach? 

Happy Thanksgiving From Our Family to Yours

 

This afternoon and evening we had family Thanksgiving for those living locally at Ray (my former husband) and Diana's home. Everything went beautifully and the meal was delicious. So, happy thanksgiving to you and yours from (l) Diana, Ray, daughter Christy, me, granddaughter Whitney, daughter-in-law Gretchen, son Tony, Henry, Fritz and Anthony. 

We gathered in gratitude. The only thing that would would have made the day even happier would have been if Joe, Laura, Zach and Arlo in Washington had been there. But, I went to Laura's Lake Dawn blog and saw my other two beautiful grandsons. 

Ever since I came down with a sinus infection almost two weeks ago, my creativity and curiosity about all things, including Internet, has tanked. I am no longer “ill” but I have a residual cough and some negative thoughts I’m trying to reverse. I’ve largely escaped into books and sleep. Knowing the economy is sliding and being in stores excessively decorated for Christmas, I’m working hard at happiness. I’m a big believer in happiness as choice, so I rarely dwell on the negative for long.

Now we are waiting for rain. This is a good thing for most of us and a scary thought for people in the recently burned areas. From my office window, I watch the clouds gathering over the L.A. basin. I’ve relocated umbrellas and put them into strategic places. Yesterday I stored all the patio furniture for the winter and I put away my summer and fall wardrobe and put my winter clothing in my bedroom closet. I’ve begun to write to my list of gratitudes I do this time of year and I’ve gone back to my Vision Board which has largely lain dormant for a month.

I reconnected with an old friend yesterday, Carol K. When both of us were newly divorced in the mid 1980s, we spent a lot of time together. She is the one who taught me how to find bargains at the thrifts and garage sales. For years she ran a clothing consignment shop and still works part-time in another. She supplements her income selling the things she buys. We both were in and out of relationships over the years and lost track of each other. A few weeks ago we serendipitiously reconnected—where? At a thrift shop! After lunch yesterday she introduced me to a new thrift in Carson called the Discount Center with 20% Monday senior discounts. I wasn’t in the market for clothing but got five articles of clothing for $10 and to my great surprise, all of them fit when I got them home. That means I have to recycle five articles of current clothing, but that will be easy.

At the request of an elderly friend who does not use the Internet, I have printed out pages of information from the local mortuaries about pricing, etc. Her husband, a long time friend, is in palliative care at a local long-term care facility and I’ve been bombarded with memories of better days. I remember my friend giving Tony a Big Wheel when he was four and now Tony is 41. Sigh!

Tonight another old friend is picking me up for a quick bite to eat and then we are going to the annual South Bay Interfaith Service. Tomorrow is my prep of the few dishes I am bringing to the family Thanksgiving at the home of my ex-husband and his wife. They say time moves more quickly as you age. Like a Japanese bullet train maybe.

Well, it hasn’t started raining yet but the wind is picking up and all the birds and bees who are usually in the trees outside my window have skeedaddled. Just some thoughts.

 

 

 

This is my version of what I'm calling the triple goddess. According to Wikipedia, a triple goddess is a term used to describe any goddess who appears as a triad. In ancient Indo-European mythologies, various goddesses or demi-goddesses appear as a triad, either as three separate beings who always appear as a group (the Greek Moirae, Charites, Erinyes and the NorseNorns) or as a single deity who is commonly depicted in three aspects (Greek Hecate and the cult image of Latin Diana Nemorensis, of whom Hecate is one part^[1]).

Often it is ambiguous whether a single being or three are represented, as is the case with the IrishBrighid and her two sisters, also called Brighid, or the Morrígan who is known by at least three or four different names. In most ancient portrayals of triple goddesses, the separate deities perform different yet related functions, and there is no obvious difference in their ages.

In Wicca and related Neopagan religions, the Triple Goddess is, along with the Horned God, held in particular reverence, and her three aspects are most often portrayed as being of different ages:Maiden, Mother and Crone.

It's not my intent to keep these funky ladies together. They will currently be in three separate rooms of the house and will probably ultimately be gifts. They are foam heads covered with a colored scarf, and then a net stocking over the face. Each has a necklace. I bought them this way at a garage sale for $4 each. I added my hats and then chopped up an old necklace I got in a garage sale free box to make their eyes. These are more examples of what I've started calling Fran's femmage. 

My blog, I've recently figured out, is a lot like my life--all over the place. My Inner Critic (also known as IC) says I am unfocused, but when I feel like annoying him I reply, "I'm just interested in a lot of things and admire lots of people. What's wrong with that?" He harrumphs and retreats for a while. 

But if I weren't a person who is interested in a lot of things and people, my life would not be brimming with ideas, activities and the creativity that it usually is.  For example, I wouldn't know Karla Schmidt Commins. She teaches art at the school where I work and her jewelry often appears in local art shows. I love to hear what Karla and her high school freshman son are up to, what she is creating and teaching her students to create. She dropped by my office the other day wearing a gorgeous pair of her hammered silver earrings and I reminded myself that I wanted to share a photo I took several weeks ago of one of her necklaces. Karla and the school's other art teachers recently closed their annual art show in San Pedro where I took many photos of everyone's work. Here is Karla's necklace she calls "Exiting Eden."

Her description of this piece follows: "Exiting Eden finds Eve upon her exile from Paradise. On her exodus out of the perfection of the garden, Eve's eyes begin to be opened to her own unique gifts. As a co-creator with God, she yearns to affect and transform the world around her. Even the snake gets bitten by her creative ingeunity and can't help but get caught up in the evolution. This necklace is part of a series of wearable art and sculpture exploring my fascination and reverence for the sacred nature and evolution of female creativity; the yearning and ability to give birth to beauty of of threads, out of scraps, out of the mundane. The lace image has become my mepahor for this sacred yet often intangible or inexplicable process or journey...m attempt to exemplify feminine creativity, threading and flourishing through time."

As for what her students are working on, she brought several examples of creatures they had made by cutting tin, hammering and painting it. It was a nice way to end my day on Thursday. Thanks, Karla. 

I have been working on a piece of collage art about the death of my dream of being saved one day by my knight in shining armor. If he hasn't come by age 71, I've concluded he must have been slain in battle.

So, imagine my delight last Saturday night to have one small, mysterious knight pop out of his bedroom fully dressed to fight for the honor of his queen. I was too stunned to gift him with my silken scarf. Oh, dare I hope that it is not too late for the knight to still appear? 

Does he know how long I've searched for the Holy Grail at thrift shops and garage sales and now he can take up the cause?

Do the books behind him signify that my knight is not only a warrior but the intellectual I have longed for all of my life? Oh, my heart, be still. 

Here is the mystery knight who vanished quickly leaving only a memory of glinting silver and a golden sword, but filled me with hope for the future.

Only moments later, another knight appeared in the living room and he was not masked like the man in silver and he beckoned me with a fetching grin, a grin that will break the hearts of women for years to come. 

"Hey, grandma, it's me--Henry," he shouted and admitted that he was also the silver knight who had eluded me only moments before. 

Here I have been looking in all the wrong places for all these years for my knight in shining armor. And now I know he lives only five miles away and is willing forever to uphold the honor of his grandma for all her days. 

Can anyone ask for much more than this in a lifetime?  

One of my online writing buddies, Shay, who lives in Northern California, is a gifted writer and a community activist. But, because her area has a lot of rain in the winter and the weather tends to be dark and bleak, she dreads what she calls her “annual trip to the dark side.”

This year she has found a productive way to face into it which will hopefully head those blahs off at the past. Instead of joining Nanowrimo (The National Novel Writing Month) this year, she and some other folks banded together online for what they are calling min-Nanowrimo.

She has created daily Alphabet Writes. I call it depth free writing on every letter of the alphabet—A through Z. She chooses a word spontaneously to correspond with the letter for the day. She says, “I set an intention for what I hoped the writing would unveil namely what is behind my annual trip to the dark side. So far the word for the day has popped into my mind. I write until I'm through for the time being. I'm certain that later when I reread and digest the month's work, (and it is work) I will feel free to edit, add, etc until the topic feels full.”

She goes on to say, “I feel that I have revealed a great deal more than I anticipated. At first I was going to describe my daily life and find ways to enhance the hours. I did not know that I was going back to birth!!”

Shay posts her daily writing to our writing group and I’ll admit that I’m very taken with her idea. I have not seen such deep, spontaneous writing in a very long time. She has given me permission to share one of her writings with you. Here is E for Embrace.

E is for embrace. I was looking for a word that meant acceptance, surrender, inclusion, and embrace filled the bill. I see the word as a huge open armed hug that accepts all in front of it, surrenders to the sense of belonging, and includes all. The next step in self-healing is saying, “This is what IS at this time,” and giving up the whining about what I wish I could be, do, or have. My daughter gave me an ultimatum yesterday. Go to the doctor and find out what’s going on with your sore eye. After many days of not doing anything, hoping the irritation would go away by itself, I embraced her strong suggestion and did so. It is contact dermatitis and the doc says it would not have healed by itself. I have steroid anti-biotic goo that had already made a difference after three applications. Then I say Why did it take me so long to accept that it wasn’t getting better with time? It my eye a metaphor for my I? Is it obvious that I need to take care of my needs as they arise rather than wait until the camel is loaded and I can’t move?

At dream group last evening I said I had an image of blowing up a huge black balloon. The black cloud that I’ve been carrying inside could fill the balloon and then I could take it outside and let the wind blow it away. I’m going to act on that today. I will embrace being active and making the image into reality. There is a party store and I’m sure they carry black balloons. They are popular for 30^th birthday parties. My breath is not strong so it may take time to stretch the balloon big enough to hold the cloud that has been sitting in my chest. By doing something I am embracing the truth that I can help myself to find the exit from spinning in the eddy. There is no knight on a white horse on my front porch. The savior has to be closer to home, like myself. Then I can get away from the negative self-talk. I can refute the accusations and reminders of past errors. I can stop asking what do I want and remember Tolle saying ask what life wants from me.

 

 

 

My respiratory symptoms got worse, probably exacerbated by the smoke on the weekend, and I've been down and out for a few days. I can't believe how much I've slept. Saw the doc yesterday and I'm using antibiotics, cough syrup, and NeilMed saline sinus rinse. Not a big deal; just an inconvenience, although I didn't work today. The cough sounds so awful and it seems irresponsible to even go into public more for "their" sake than mine.

Those of us with allergies, asthma and respiratory problems are triggered by many things and many of us have what the docs call late onset. I remember traveling with a friend about 15 years ago and she couldn't even bear for me to use hair spray; at the time I kind of thought she was being a prima donna. I was wrong and intolerant. I'm taking an informal survey of people who react to scents, cleaning products and oxygen born irritants. If you are one of those reactors, at what age was the onset? (Mine was in my early 60s.) What things do you know will set you off? For me, it's almost any fragrance, particularly men's colognes, some flowers and especially star gazer lilies which I adore, incense, cigarettes, oil-based paints--extreme cold, and the first 5 minutes of vigorous exercise, to name but a few. I'm no longer in touch with my traveling friend but I sure want to say I'm sorry to a whole lot of people I must have annoyed when I thought all my expensive perfumes were sexy. 

Thoughts While Waiting for Rain

Ever since I came down with a sinus infection almost two weeks ago, my creativity and curiosity about all things, including Internet, has tanked. I am no longer “ill” but I have a residual cough and some negative thoughts I’m trying to reverse. I’ve largely escaped into books and sleep. Knowing the economy is sliding and being in stores excessively decorated for Christmas, I’m working hard at happiness. I’m a big believer in happiness as choice, so I rarely dwell on the negative for long.

Now we are waiting for rain. This is a good thing for most of us and a scary thought for people in the recently burned areas. From my office window, I watch the clouds gathering over the L.A. basin. I’ve relocated umbrellas and put them into strategic places. Yesterday I stored all the patio furniture for the winter and I put away my summer and fall wardrobe and put my winter clothing in my bedroom closet. I’ve begun to write to my list of gratitudes I do this time of year and I’ve gone back to my Vision Board which has largely lain dormant for a month.

I reconnected with an old friend yesterday, Carol K. When both of us were newly divorced in the mid 1980s, we spent a lot of time together. She is the one who taught me how to find bargains at the thrifts and garage sales. For years she ran a clothing consignment shop and still works part-time in another. She supplements her income selling the things she buys. We both were in and out of relationships over the years and lost track of each other. A few weeks ago we serendipitiously reconnected—where? At a thrift shop! After lunch yesterday she introduced me to a new thrift in Carson called the Discount Center with 20% Monday senior discounts. I wasn’t in the market for clothing but got five articles of clothing for $10 and to my great surprise, all of them fit when I got them home. That means I have to recycle five articles of current clothing, but that will be easy.

At the request of an elderly friend who does not use the Internet, I have printed out pages of information from the local mortuaries about pricing, etc. Her husband, a long time friend, is in palliative care at a local long-term care facility and I’ve been bombarded with memories of better days. I remember my friend giving Tony a Big Wheel when he was four and now Tony is 41. Sigh!

Tonight another old friend is picking me up for a quick bite to eat and then we are going to the annual South Bay Interfaith Service. Tomorrow is my prep of the few dishes I am bringing to the family Thanksgiving at the home of my ex-husband and his wife. They say time moves more quickly as you age. Like a Japanese bullet train maybe.

Well, it hasn’t started raining yet but the wind is picking up and all the birds and bees who are usually in the trees outside my window have skeedaddled. Just some thoughts.

 

 

The Triple Goddess: Redondowriter Style

 

This is my version of what I'm calling the triple goddess. According to Wikipedia, a triple goddess is a term used to describe any goddess who appears as a triad. In ancient Indo-European mythologies, various goddesses or demi-goddesses appear as a triad, either as three separate beings who always appear as a group (the Greek Moirae, Charites, Erinyes and the NorseNorns) or as a single deity who is commonly depicted in three aspects (Greek Hecate and the cult image of Latin Diana Nemorensis, of whom Hecate is one part^[1]).

Often it is ambiguous whether a single being or three are represented, as is the case with the IrishBrighid and her two sisters, also called Brighid, or the Morrígan who is known by at least three or four different names. In most ancient portrayals of triple goddesses, the separate deities perform different yet related functions, and there is no obvious difference in their ages.

In Wicca and related Neopagan religions, the Triple Goddess is, along with the Horned God, held in particular reverence, and her three aspects are most often portrayed as being of different ages:Maiden, Mother and Crone.

It's not my intent to keep these funky ladies together. They will currently be in three separate rooms of the house and will probably ultimately be gifts. They are foam heads covered with a colored scarf, and then a net stocking over the face. Each has a necklace. I bought them this way at a garage sale for $4 each. I added my hats and then chopped up an old necklace I got in a garage sale free box to make their eyes. These are more examples of what I've started calling Fran's femmage. 

Exiting Eden: An Example of Sacred Jewelry

My blog, I've recently figured out, is a lot like my life--all over the place. My Inner Critic (also known as IC) says I am unfocused, but when I feel like annoying him I reply, "I'm just interested in a lot of things and admire lots of people. What's wrong with that?" He harrumphs and retreats for a while. 

But if I weren't a person who is interested in a lot of things and people, my life would not be brimming with ideas, activities and the creativity that it usually is.  For example, I wouldn't know Karla Schmidt Commins. She teaches art at the school where I work and her jewelry often appears in local art shows. I love to hear what Karla and her high school freshman son are up to, what she is creating and teaching her students to create. She dropped by my office the other day wearing a gorgeous pair of her hammered silver earrings and I reminded myself that I wanted to share a photo I took several weeks ago of one of her necklaces. Karla and the school's other art teachers recently closed their annual art show in San Pedro where I took many photos of everyone's work. Here is Karla's necklace she calls "Exiting Eden."

Her description of this piece follows: "Exiting Eden finds Eve upon her exile from Paradise. On her exodus out of the perfection of the garden, Eve's eyes begin to be opened to her own unique gifts. As a co-creator with God, she yearns to affect and transform the world around her. Even the snake gets bitten by her creative ingeunity and can't help but get caught up in the evolution. This necklace is part of a series of wearable art and sculpture exploring my fascination and reverence for the sacred nature and evolution of female creativity; the yearning and ability to give birth to beauty of of threads, out of scraps, out of the mundane. The lace image has become my mepahor for this sacred yet often intangible or inexplicable process or journey...m attempt to exemplify feminine creativity, threading and flourishing through time."

As for what her students are working on, she brought several examples of creatures they had made by cutting tin, hammering and painting it. It was a nice way to end my day on Thursday. Thanks, Karla. 

One Woman: Two Knights in Shining Armor

I have been working on a piece of collage art about the death of my dream of being saved one day by my knight in shining armor. If he hasn't come by age 71, I've concluded he must have been slain in battle.

So, imagine my delight last Saturday night to have one small, mysterious knight pop out of his bedroom fully dressed to fight for the honor of his queen. I was too stunned to gift him with my silken scarf. Oh, dare I hope that it is not too late for the knight to still appear? 

Does he know how long I've searched for the Holy Grail at thrift shops and garage sales and now he can take up the cause?

Do the books behind him signify that my knight is not only a warrior but the intellectual I have longed for all of my life? Oh, my heart, be still. 

Here is the mystery knight who vanished quickly leaving only a memory of glinting silver and a golden sword, but filled me with hope for the future.

Only moments later, another knight appeared in the living room and he was not masked like the man in silver and he beckoned me with a fetching grin, a grin that will break the hearts of women for years to come. 

"Hey, grandma, it's me--Henry," he shouted and admitted that he was also the silver knight who had eluded me only moments before. 

Here I have been looking in all the wrong places for all these years for my knight in shining armor. And now I know he lives only five miles away and is willing forever to uphold the honor of his grandma for all her days. 

Can anyone ask for much more than this in a lifetime?  

Shay's Depth Writing the Alphabet

One of my online writing buddies, Shay, who lives in Northern California, is a gifted writer and a community activist. But, because her area has a lot of rain in the winter and the weather tends to be dark and bleak, she dreads what she calls her “annual trip to the dark side.”

This year she has found a productive way to face into it which will hopefully head those blahs off at the past. Instead of joining Nanowrimo (The National Novel Writing Month) this year, she and some other folks banded together online for what they are calling min-Nanowrimo.

She has created daily Alphabet Writes. I call it depth free writing on every letter of the alphabet—A through Z. She chooses a word spontaneously to correspond with the letter for the day. She says, “I set an intention for what I hoped the writing would unveil namely what is behind my annual trip to the dark side. So far the word for the day has popped into my mind. I write until I'm through for the time being. I'm certain that later when I reread and digest the month's work, (and it is work) I will feel free to edit, add, etc until the topic feels full.”

She goes on to say, “I feel that I have revealed a great deal more than I anticipated. At first I was going to describe my daily life and find ways to enhance the hours. I did not know that I was going back to birth!!”

Shay posts her daily writing to our writing group and I’ll admit that I’m very taken with her idea. I have not seen such deep, spontaneous writing in a very long time. She has given me permission to share one of her writings with you. Here is E for Embrace.

E is for embrace. I was looking for a word that meant acceptance, surrender, inclusion, and embrace filled the bill. I see the word as a huge open armed hug that accepts all in front of it, surrenders to the sense of belonging, and includes all. The next step in self-healing is saying, “This is what IS at this time,” and giving up the whining about what I wish I could be, do, or have. My daughter gave me an ultimatum yesterday. Go to the doctor and find out what’s going on with your sore eye. After many days of not doing anything, hoping the irritation would go away by itself, I embraced her strong suggestion and did so. It is contact dermatitis and the doc says it would not have healed by itself. I have steroid anti-biotic goo that had already made a difference after three applications. Then I say Why did it take me so long to accept that it wasn’t getting better with time? It my eye a metaphor for my I? Is it obvious that I need to take care of my needs as they arise rather than wait until the camel is loaded and I can’t move?

At dream group last evening I said I had an image of blowing up a huge black balloon. The black cloud that I’ve been carrying inside could fill the balloon and then I could take it outside and let the wind blow it away. I’m going to act on that today. I will embrace being active and making the image into reality. There is a party store and I’m sure they carry black balloons. They are popular for 30^th birthday parties. My breath is not strong so it may take time to stretch the balloon big enough to hold the cloud that has been sitting in my chest. By doing something I am embracing the truth that I can help myself to find the exit from spinning in the eddy. There is no knight on a white horse on my front porch. The savior has to be closer to home, like myself. Then I can get away from the negative self-talk. I can refute the accusations and reminders of past errors. I can stop asking what do I want and remember Tolle saying ask what life wants from me.

 

 

 

Under the Weather and Allergy Triggers

My respiratory symptoms got worse, probably exacerbated by the smoke on the weekend, and I've been down and out for a few days. I can't believe how much I've slept. Saw the doc yesterday and I'm using antibiotics, cough syrup, and NeilMed saline sinus rinse. Not a big deal; just an inconvenience, although I didn't work today. The cough sounds so awful and it seems irresponsible to even go into public more for "their" sake than mine.

Those of us with allergies, asthma and respiratory problems are triggered by many things and many of us have what the docs call late onset. I remember traveling with a friend about 15 years ago and she couldn't even bear for me to use hair spray; at the time I kind of thought she was being a prima donna. I was wrong and intolerant. I'm taking an informal survey of people who react to scents, cleaning products and oxygen born irritants. If you are one of those reactors, at what age was the onset? (Mine was in my early 60s.) What things do you know will set you off? For me, it's almost any fragrance, particularly men's colognes, some flowers and especially star gazer lilies which I adore, incense, cigarettes, oil-based paints--extreme cold, and the first 5 minutes of vigorous exercise, to name but a few. I'm no longer in touch with my traveling friend but I sure want to say I'm sorry to a whole lot of people I must have annoyed when I thought all my expensive perfumes were sexy.