Showing posts from September, 2016

Movie Review - A Little Bit of Heaven - from 2011

Review  How did I miss this one!?

A Little Bit of Heaven
Wikipedia for Spoilers
It’s hard for me to watch movies about death. Maybe it’s my discomfort with the whole inevitability, my mid-life phase, and chronic illness twisting my emotions into denial. Our family lost a young father this summer, and the weight of sadness hasn’t lifted much for his young widow and their kiddos.
But, I’m gonna say, I like how this movie addresses the subject of death, and how it affects a young person.
Most critics hated this movie for the same reasons I loved it. You cannot put emotions into a box and expect every single person to react the same way in serious situations. There is no gold standard for receiving news of a terminal illness.
That’s why I appreciated the message this movie gives to the audience through to the end.
I cried like a big old baby for probably 30 of this productions’ 107 minutes. Almost half.
I don’t cry like I used to, but, this movie brought those emotions out into the sunlight, rev…

My Medicated Mid-Life - That Needle is Going Where?

My Medicated Mid-Life
Growing up, nothing scared me more than needles…well, maybe Bigfoot, but, I saw way more needles than I saw Sasquatch.

After living with RA, fibromyalgia, and whatever else my autoimmune system decides to attack, pain became a greater fear. Well, maybe not a fear, but, it became dreaded and interfered with living my life.
So, after trying a few meds that didn’t work i.e. methotrexate, leflunomide, plaquenil…my rheumy and I discussed biologics. So, I started on Enbrel. Hoping for success to mimic a pro-golfer, I agreed and quickly I received my first prescription.
But, I had to inject myself…with a needle…to get the Enbrel.

Well, crap…
Now, at this point in my life and treatment, needles are a normal, routine part of existence for blood work, and flu shots, the occasional steroid boost to eliminate a nasty flare. I became accustomed to someone else administering the needle.
It was my turn, and it freaked me out.
Now, I’m not proud to say it, but, after this disease wra…

Tuesday Tales and Crawling Into a Cozy Bed

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.
A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image. This week, we write to an image. This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary.


“Lola dear, why don’t you come to my house for a few days? I’ll take care of you.”
Laverne fretted over Lola, arranging and rearranging the sheet on the bed.
“Mom, I appreciate you. I don’t think I’ve told you enough.” It was easy now to see how much Laverne loved me. She’d always wanted included, I was good at shutting her out for years. “I’ll come over for a night or two, will that satisfy you?”
A twinkle appeared followed by a full on face smile. “I’m so happy!”
“Tell me my bed isn’t covered in puzzles.” Okay, that was harsh. “You know what, never mind, I don’t care. I’ll push them off when it’s time to go to sleep.”
Walking around, heading toward the window, mom finally breached a…

My Medicated Mid-Life #teamHumira...maybe

My Medicated Mid-Life There’s nothing more humbling than taking a child’s pose in yoga. For real. I mean, taking a break in a yoga class seems like the wuss way out. But, today, I had to do just that. Take a child’s pose. My feet were cramping up something horrible during balance poses. My hamstrings stretched crankily, balking when I folded over.
My eagle had landed. Pun intended. In class, I was torn between feeling so much joy that I was there, at least doing what I could and crying because my body wasn’t cooperating. At moments, I felt like I was failing in a world I use to govern. A few years ago, I pushed myself, doing just a few more seconds in plank, running a few more minutes, lifting a stronger weight. Now, I’m lucky to sweat. I relish when I sweat. I’m ecstatic when I sweat.
I’ll repeat what I said last week: “I try to remind myself to perform at least gentle stretching exercises every day. Living with RA and fibromyalgia make body movements critical and necessary to well-being…

Tueday Tales....Make the Call

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales. A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- write. This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary- My Only Necessary.


“You’ve never danced before?” Lesley swayed in time with the music, her arms looped around my neck. “You’re very good.”

“I do some of my best thinking when I shift from side to side, you know, standing in a thinking man’s pose. I’ve done it for almost as long as I can remember.” Growing up, I stared at puzzles and equations for so long, sitting made my butt sore. Somehow staying mobile helped me process better.

“In your own charming way, you made even that sound romantic.”

“I shift my weight without picking up my feet much, so, I haven’t really stepped on your cute toes.”

“Did you…

Review CHRIS STAPLETON - Traveller

Chris Stapleton –Traveller
OMG…yes, I’ll say it again…OMG…what a gem Chris produced with this album. One sing-a-long worthy song after another. When I can say something actually tempers my mood in the temperamental Dallas traffic, you know it’s gotta be good.
For real.
The soothing tones of even the brokenhearted songs strum through the speakers, reminding me of lazy days in rocking chairs or a shady riverbank. Days when you go fishing and don’t even care if you catch a thing, or spend a quirky evening catching lightning bugs. This is the kind of album I’m talking about.

You don’t have to be a country music fan to enjoy his red-dirt voice, with just enough grit to make the songs stick like an Olympic gymnasts landing. The first song, Traveller, of the album namesake, makes me want to take a road trip with my best friends- times when all we do is laugh and point out goofy landmarks. (even stopping in Winslow, Arizona, as I actually did in June with my bestie, Rhonda and her boy, Ty.…

My Medicated Mid-Life

My Medicated Life
I figured it out. I want to someday wake up like those women in the mattress ads on TV. So full of life and vigor, they boldly greet the day, challenging negativity with a spewing bottle of champagne, or a run across town.
Opposed to how I receive the morning, rolling into the fetal position, fearful of what will hurt worse. I wish I could sit up tall giggling, leaping out of bed like Mikhail Baryshnikov, now that’s a goal.
Instead, I look like some kind of cross between a peg legged pirate and slug.
My mind immediately filters to the day before, scouring what I did to make fill-in-the-blank hurt, i.e. my shoulders, arms, back, you name it. I know I pulled something the day before, and my muscles and joints remind me with a reckoning. No joke, sometimes, it was something as simple as carrying in grocery bags, yoga poses, or even moving unassuming household items around.
I try to remind myself to perform at least gentle stretching exercises every day. Living with RA an…

What We're Watching Now - Friday Review of STRANGER THINGS


Stranger Things on Netflix
Stranger Things on Rotten Tomatoes
I was born in 1970, so, any homage to my childhood pulls on the heartstrings of my youth. This series, based in 1983 Indiana, hits home on many levels, leaving me longing for the days of tube socks and rotary dial phones.

However, I had my “meh” moments more often than I expected in this series so largely followed by the masses. I thought some of the characters weren’t fully developed, and had reactions I didn’t appreciate. This was more of a personal preference than some glaring error. I believed the town’s people shown in the series lacked a serious mourning for allegedly-deceased Will Byers. In a small town, folks are usually more cohesive and supportive, especially during times of tragedy.

When Will Byers goes missing, his mother, Joyce, is determined to find him. Based upon communications she receives from him in rather unconventional methods, she knows he isn't dead, but, she can't get to him. His friends …