I managed to have a big weekend.  One of those weekends where you consider going to bed and hiding.

Forever.

With Oreos.

FIRST, I had to get the backup for my laptop because I needed to access some picture.  Since we recently moved the office downstairs, it meant that we had moved the Time Capsule (Mac’s magic) down and I should be able to get to everything.  I am brilliant.  I found the Time Capsule, I hooked it up (with help from my kids because it involved going under my desk), and I waited for magic to happen. And I waited.  And waited. And freaking waited.

It never worked.

Time Capsule, you failed me.

Luckily I waited on Pete and the over-cautious dude had backup #2.  It worked.  It was from Wal-mart.

I am not brilliant, I am a People of Wal-mart.

Then I had to sync ITunes.  With the computer backup it confused my IPod Touch. It is probably all my fault.  I clicked something at the wrong time.  No matter, when I realized something was wrong was about the time I realized everything was gone.  Let me repeat that for you. Music.  Apps I’ve paid for.  Games my kids play.  EVERYTHING WAS GONE.

That one caused me to cry.

Dude.  Kids Bop made me sob.

It took both of us several hours of everything we could come up with.  But we finally got it all back!!

I am writing this post with a piece of tree bark and some lead.

And I promised to never pretend I was smarter than a fifth grader again.

There was a time when I wanted the moon and stars.

I still want the moon and stars, but maybe they’ve changed a bit.

Maybe the moon just ain’t what it used to be.

And maybe the stars never shined so bright.

Arm Progress 7/10/10 from Anissa Mayhew on Vimeo.

That is literally the FIRST time I have moved my wrist on my own!!  You may not notice, but it’s a BIG deal!!

There has been a strange sense of wondering if I should be telling this part of my story.

What’s healing for me and therapeutic in telling may not be what most want to read.  Granted, some understand and some get what is going on in my head.  But I wonder how many are really tired of what they think is whining everyday.

I write.  An obscene amount of people read.  A few comment.

And I love those comments.  They mean the world to me.

But i wonder what the silent readers are thinking.

Sometimes, I will get an email out of the blue.  They read something and they connected or it reminds them of someone they had in their life.

For a second I get to touch their world.

It’s been hard because communication isn’t the easiest thing I’ve learned to do.  I’ve had to get around the feeling that people are listening for me to make mistakes.  I can’t explain what it does to a person like me to have the gift of quick speech stolen.

So, since I can’t speak like I’d like to, I write.

But maybe I shouldn’t.  Maybe it isn’t the healing tool I thought it was.

It might be a way of whining to a group that feels obligated to listen.

I read a few of the blog posts I’d written.  They were brutally honest and truthful.  When I tell about handicap and disability my words are always real and to-the-point.

Unfortunately, it’s as depressing as hell.

I was reading about our life with it’s falls, it’s emotional up-and-down, my moods.

I felt sorry for us!!

To understand why there is even a reason to keep going: Today, Pete and I were learning to move in the pool together. My husband was being the super supportive guy he always is and threatened ice-cube therapy.  I, of course, was the picture perfect wife and answered with a threat to nail his ballsack to his forehead. We both laughed ourselves silly.

What I don’t think Pete saw behind him was the guy with no arms looking at us with total horror…..testicles vs arms….I think we know which ones would win.