Cindy A. Christiansen's Blog, page 11

Rolling Out the Weekend Fun, And I Mean Rolling!

I spotted this video going around Facebook recently!  I just had to share the laughs.
Many days I have felt just like these rolling animals.
Too funny!
Have a wonderful weekend!



Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet Romance, Humor, Suspense...and Dogs! 
Fly into a good book at: http://www.dragonflyromance.com 

Copyright: / 123RF Stock PhotoCindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

Worrying Ways

You’ve seen the comedy sketches where the husband is so worried about his wife going into labor that when the time comes, his wife has to call the doctor, load her bags, and drive himto the hospital. Well, that pretty much describes my husband.
A couple of years ago, I was struggling with an ulcer. My husband has dealt with them as well, so he knew the agony I was going through. He kept giving me tips on how best to deal with the situation, but me being me, I just toughed it out.
In the middle of the night, I woke up feeling awful. I went in the bathroom and sat down. The next thing I knew, I was coming to with my head against the wall and blood everywhere. I had no idea what had happened or why there was blood all over. I woke my husband just as my stomach lurched. I raced to the bathroom and vomited blood.
“It’s your ulcer,” my husband said, running a jerky hand through his hair. “It’s bleeding. We’ve got to get you to the hospital.”
“I’ll be all right,” I said with my usual optimism. (Actually, it’s more like my usual never-want-to-go-to-the-hospital mood.)
“Go get in the car,” he said, struggling and falling down, trying to get his pants on.
“I need to get dressed too.”
“No. Here. Put on your robe.” He tossed it to me.
He rushed me out the door into the darkened garage and left me standing there while he dashed back into the house for the forgotten car keys.
He scurried back out and smacked me with the car door as he hurriedly helped me into the passenger seat.
“I need my purse and planner,” I stated.
He rushed back in the house and out again.
“I’m gonna need something to throw up in.”
Another trip into the house.
“Do you have your wallet?” I asked as he handed me an empty plastic ice cream bucket.
“I’m not gonna worry about that right now.”
We finally got underway. I kept telling him to slow down. The streets were mostly clear. He sneaked through a red light.
“We won’t get there any faster if we get pulled over by the police.” I threw up more blood.
My husband shoved harder on the accelerator and literally spit pieces of fingernail on the car mat.
He left the car door open and rushed me into the ER. The admittance nurse took one look at me and took me right back. A first! I really must have looked bad. Maybe the pajamas helped. I had never gotten away without doing paperwork first.
Several nurses surrounded me, hooking up two IVs, one in each arm. My husband dashed out to move the car and was back before it was humanly possible to even have made it out to the entrance door. The admittance nurse came up and started asking questions. Another nurse started to tube me. With dark circles under his eyes, my husband drew a blank. He couldn’t remember our address or phone number. He kept bouncing from one foot to the other. He reached for his wallet that wasn’t there. No ID. No insurance card.
I opened my purse and pulled out my driver’s license and insurance card and handed them to the nurse, unable to talk. My husband’s gaze flicked around the room, never settling on any one object.  The tube hurt as it went in. I wanted to comfort my husband—tell him I would be all right. But unfortunately, the nurse had put the tube in wrong and temporarily damaged my throat.  It would be weeks before I could talk.

I was admitted into ICU for three days. I’m pretty sure the whole experience was harder on my husband than it was me. Despite my ulcer, he’s the bigger worrier. And when he worries, he gets kinda clumsy and can’t think. Oh, I know it's because he loves me. That's what makes it tolerable.

Believe me, I went through those comedy routines with the birth of our two kids. And, forget asking my husband what the doctor had to say after any medical procedure. He can’t remember a thing, he is so nervous.
I was out of the hospital nine days when I was sitting at my computer writing, and a terrible pain hit me in the lower right side. I was doubled over in agony but didn’t want to call my husband at work. I drove myself to the ER, did all the admittance paperwork, and found out my appendix was leaking and ready to burst.

I really debated hard whether to call my husband, or try to get the whole thing over with before he found out.  


Cindy A. ChristiansenSweet Romance, Humor, Suspense...and Dogs! Fly into a good book at: http://www.dragonflyromance.com

Copyright: / 123RF Stock PhotoCindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

Human Life vs. Legos

My oldest son, Sparky, was diagnosed early with ADHD and started on stimulant drugs by the age of two.  Later by the fourth grade, the district school psychologist diagnosed him with Asperger’s Disease on the autism spectrum.  By the age of sixteen, doctors had him on an extremely high dose of Ritalin.
He was violent, aggressive, hyper-focused, and out of control.  He tried to kill his younger brother the day of my birthday and I ended up in the ER with him in a lock-down room with a policeman guarding the door.  The doctors sedated him three times before he calmed down, and then they ambulanced him to the Neuropsychiatric Unit (UNI) at the University of Utah.

I present this information in an emotionless way, but the time was anything but serene or peaceful.  It’s merely one of those “I told you that so I can tell you this” moments.

During Sparky’s stay at UNI, we had to meet with doctors and psychiatrists and have family and group meetings with all the other admitted teens and their families.  I will never forget that first group meeting.  At least twenty resentful teens filled the folding chairs —boys and girls— most of whom were there for drug addition, suicide attempt or, especially, cutting. None of them were allowed shoelaces or draw-string clothing. 

In the meeting, only two other single parents came to the meeting.  The room radiated pain and hostility.  The counselors began by having each of us introduce ourselves. The intros came quickly around the room to me, my husband, and Sparky’s younger brother, Roo, because no one was opening up about their problems.  Roo told everyone about Sparky chasing him, shoving him into the glass shower doors, and trying to kill him.  He told them how he feared for his life—all over a Lego piece.  Yes, a piece of plastic.  A toy.  An object.

A wave of disbelief permeated the room.

Sparky chirped in with, “Shut up, Roo.”

One boy, who had been tipped back in his chair with a smug look on his face, dropped the front legs of his chair to the floor, his mouth open. “You think your Legos are more important than your family, man?”

“It’s a very special piece,” Sparky said. “You can’t get it easily.”

The other kids stared in disbelief.

A girl with bandages on her arms, obviously from cutting, kept wringing her hands. “Do you know how lucky you are to have a family that cares? And you think some damn toy is more important?  Do you see my family here?”

It wasn’t long until all nineteen kids where talking and trying to convince Sparky how lucky he was to have a loving family and how wrong it is to think Legos are more important than living, breathing people.  I marveled at these teens as their agitation grew and they pleaded harder with Sparky for him to see the error in his thinking. These kids were suffering their own kinds of horror and pain, yet they were totally shocked at my son’s obsession with Legos.  At least two of them got so irritated they left the room.

I sat back and watched in amazement as these teens became increasingly fidgety, louder and more pleading, or even silently shocked.  Sparky would not give up his position that his Legos were the most important thing.  The counselors finally had to stop the group and insist everyone take a break, with the condition that we would no longer discuss Sparky and move on to another subject.

Out in the hall, one-by-one, the teens approached me, asked permission to shake my hand (as they were taught there) and pretty much stated their condolences. It was an experience I will never forget.

Five years later, Sparky still has trouble with this concept.  People are just tools in his life.

He did get re-diagnosed while at UNI, and they diagnosed him with severe Anxiety Disorder, Autism and Depression.  All of the stimulant drugs were pulled from him because they were driving him to extreme agitation.  His hyper-focusing was a tool he used to control himself.  He regrets his behavior and still goes through periods where he hates himself for the things he has done.  I feel responsible and wonder what his childhood would have been like without him being on the drugs that were agitating him so severely from the age of two to sixteen.

When we go through a particularly difficult time with Sparky, I think about those teens—their awareness and understanding, their sorrow and pain, and I wonder what happened to them and if anyone is there for them now.
Ordinary acts of love and hope point to the extraordinary promise that every human life is of inestimable value. ~Desmond Tutu
Cindy A. ChristiansenSweet Romance, Humor, Suspense...and Dogs! Fly into a good book at: http://www.dragonflyromance.com  Copyright: / 123RF Stock PhotoCindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

Weekend Fun Blog: Twenty Second Laugh!

The dogs in this video are definitely not my dogs! lol
Since Sprite has been on seizure medication, he devours everything in sight.  This week, I carried in several sacks of groceries and went back to the van for more.  When I came back in, he had eaten right through the wrapper and had gobbled down a chunk of bread.
He even chewed a small hole in a bag of fertilizer while we were gone. Really!
Chloe has to fight for everything she gets.  Sprite will eat his food and then come after hers. It's a constant battle.  Chloe has gotten old enough to defend herself.
Enjoy this short, cute video and have a wonderful weekend!


Cindy A. ChristiansenSweet Romance, Humor, Suspense...and Dogs! Fly into a good book at: http://www.dragonflyromance.com 
Copyright: / 123RF Stock PhotoCindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

That Heavenly Place

I’ve been chronically ill and chronically in pain for over thirty years, so it was no wonder I experienced such joy from an out-of-body experience.
One summer day, I rushed around the kitchen, preparing food for company and the holiday. I headed out the door into the garage and down the steps. Somehow, I stepped wrong, fell, landed painfully on my hip on a gallon metal can of paint thinner, severely twisted my ankle, and hit my head on the edge of the step.
I blacked out and floated up and up…away from all the pain I was so used to experiencing. No pain. No symptoms. A peace that I have never experienced before or after in my physical body. A warmth…like sunshine radiating through my body. Tranquility... Happiness... Wellness… Wholeness… Bliss. I radiated in my pain-free freedom and relished every moment.
Suddenly, I was thrust back into my agonizing body. I gasped. I didn’t want to be here. No! Please! I blacked out again. Could I just stay in this state of euphoria for just a little while longer?
I can’t remember if I heard the words or just sensed the feeling, but as much as I didn’t want to, I had to return to my body and the discomfort. As I came around again, my mind and body struggled with the new level of pain thrust upon it. 
My husband was kneeling by my side, talking to me. I had no clue as to what he was saying. I could see the concern in his expression. He helped me into the house. All I wanted to do was return to that glorious place of peace, freedom and wholeness.
Since then, I see myself in my mind’s eye differently. I look more like I did as a child. My hair is platinum blonde, long and curly, like I had at an early age. I’m thin and shapely and have none of the scars, pains, or ailments I suffer with on a daily basis. Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I am surprised at who I see.
On days of great agony, this memory comes back to me and I cry joyful tears, knowing that I must be patient and enjoy what I can of this life in order to return to that heavenly place.
In the Near Lightby Karl SkalaWould you really call this dying?In the near light, but far away.This light which our hope nurtures.To the star, high aboveeveryone has traveled there in their mindbefore your body, the mind, the spiritbelonged once to the starslet this light shine deep in your heart, in your dreamson this earth.Death is an awakening.

Cindy A. ChristiansenSweet Romance, Humor, Suspense...and Dogs! Fly into a good book at: http://www.dragonflyromance.com In The Near Light Poem: http://www.neardeathsite.com/poems1.phpDog Angel Photo Copyright: / 123RF Stock Photo




Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

Top Ten Stupidest Things Doctors Ever Said to Me

Yes, doctors are human beings and none of us are perfect.  But, I’ve had more than my share of doctors who have been less than tactful.  These ten statements in no way are a complete list but came off the top of my head.  In Letterman fashion, let’s take a look:
Don’t worry, be happy! (When asked why I was so terribly sick.)If you hurt there, it should hurt here.  It doesn’t make sense.You’re too obese to get pregnant. (I was size 18.)It’s all in your head.It was just a little blood. (IV disconnected and I had bled out on the floor below transfusion levels.)You need your gallbladder removed. (It had already been removed and noted in chart.)You should leave your family for the sake of your health.While you are sleeping, don’t bend your elbows, knees, ankles or wrists. Your nerves are too thin in those areas.That doesn’t hurt.Said by a weight loss doctor’s nurse: The doctor is overweight because he works very hard and is busy.
What unbelievable comments have you received from a doctor?

Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet Romance, Humor, Suspense...and Dogs! 
Fly into a good book at: http://www.dragonflyromance.com 

Dog Photo: http://www.123rf.com/profile_damedeesoCindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

Fit to Be Tied!

Fit to be tied down, leashed, crated, or banned from the house!

Yes, it was another tough night with our Schnauzer, Sprite!

He started about three in the morning and it went on until seven. He trots through the house like a deer, his nails clicking on the floor.  He races to the bed, up the dog stairs, steps all over me, dives off the other side, dashes outside through the doggie door, barks several times, comes back inside, scratches on the doors that are closed, and then starts the process all over again.

No clue as to why he is doing this.  (If you figure it out, let me know.)

I chose this hyper dog video because while you watch it, you will become as annoyed as I am.  Actually the hyper goats video was cuter and funnier, but I wanted you to feel my pain. :)
Have a wonderful weekend!
Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet Romance, Humor, Suspense...and Dogs! 
Fly into a good book at: http://www.dragonflyromance.com 

Copyright: / 123RF Stock Photo

Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

Knowledge Isn’t Transferred Through the Genes

I grew up in an old house with round push button light switches and a fuse box instead of the breaker boxes we have now. Well, one evening when I was in my teens, my parents were out with friends and my older sister and I were home alone. Sis was busy ironing her dress, and I was in my room in the basement cleaning. My lamp kept blinking on and off from an open in the extension cord.

Most people call this a short, but it’s actually an open. Yes, I am an electrician’s daughter. My dad worked hard to become an electrician, and he was very proud of his license to the day he died.
I guess I had watched too many TV shows and read too many books. Have you ever noticed that a character will know all about a subject because one of their parents worked in that profession?  Well, the truth is:  A little knowledge is dangerous and degrees are nontransferable.
With my chin held high, I found the open, marked it, and unplugged the lamp from the extension cord. I dashed upstairs for a pair of pliers to cut the cord and repair the open.
“What are you doing?” Sis asked, standing the iron at the end of the ironing board.
“I need pliers.”
“What for?”
“I’m going to fix an extension cord,” I said, proudly grinning.
Sis frowned. “Shouldn’t you wait for Dad?”
“I can handle it.”  I pulled a pair of pliers from the kitchen junk drawer and marched down stairs, feeling relaxed and cocky. I picked up the extension cord and clipped where I had marked. Although the pliers had plastic on the handles, I got the jolt of a lifetime that left my heart suffocating in my chest. I dropped the pliers and the cord, blinked, and found myself in total darkness. Sure I had unplugged the lamp from the extension cord, but had I unplugged the extension cord from the outlet?
Ah, no!
“I told you you should have waited for Dad,” I heard my sister yell down the stairs.
I cringed. My body still tingled and stung from the zap. Feeling my way, I slowly found the bottom of the stairs. My chest tightened. What a fool. What would Dad say when he got home?  He would kill me.
“What should we do?” I asked my sister when I got to the top of the stairs. “You’ve got to help me. Mom and Dad will be here any minute.”
Sis tsked at me and went to find a flashlight. I winced and headed for the fuse box on the front porch. I opened the panel and stared helplessly at it in the moonlight. Sis made her way with the flashlight. She shone the light on the fuses, and I caught sight of car headlights coming down the dirt road to the farm.
“Can you fix it?” I asked, trying not to hyperventilate. “Oh, please hurry.”
Luckily, my sister knew how to replace a fuse and the power came on just before our parents drove in the yard. I wanted to crawl into a hole. I expected my sister to run to the front door and blurt out my blunder, but she didn’t. I swallowed my surprise as Mom and Dad told about their evening out.
“Enough about our evening,” Dad said with a quizzical eye. “What went on here?”
He knew. They’d noticed the darkened house. I hung my head and immediately confessed.
Yes, it’s true. Knowledge isn’t transferred through the genes, and I approached the power of electricity with a new respect…and fear. In fact, reading this to my husband, he said, “I’ve never seen you work on anything electrical.”
“Well, duh, and never will.”
Cindy A. ChristiansenSweet Romance, Humor, Suspense...and Dogs! Fly into a good book at: http://www.dragonflyromance.com

Copyright: / 123RF Stock Photo





Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

Freedom Soaring

I have to admit, I have a difficult time letting go or letting my hair down or feeling free—whatever you want to call it.  I won’t get into the whys, only that my adult life has been super complicated.
One way I let go is remembering my brother, Randy. He had a beard, drove a 1972 Ford Bronco, wore a derringer belt buckle, and loved Credence Clearwater Revival (CCR).  He drove fifty miles to work and fifty miles back every day. In the spring, he took the top off his Bronco and put a cover on the back behind the bucket seats.  He would scream into the yard after work in a flurry of dust with CCR blasting, and then stomp into the house for a cup of coffee before he could even speak to anyone.  He hated the drive, or more apropos, the idiot drivers on the highway.
Being the country girl that I am, I detested CCR.
When my brother unexpectedly died at the age of forty-nine, I inherited his music collection.  Of course, among those discs was a two-disc set of CCR.  It remained in the basement for a number of years until one spring day about eight years ago.  I brought it up and slide it into the disk player in my truck and headed to an appointment with my two sons. 
After they got over the initial shock of mom listening to something other than country, they really got into the beat of the music.  So did Mom.  My knee started banging against the truck door to the time of the music, my hands tapping on the steering wheel.  By the time we hit the on-ramp to the freeway, I was bouncing in my seat.  The boys clapped their hands and tapped their feet.  The energy level increased.  Smiles spread across our faces, tears rolled down my cheeks.
Travelin’ Band come on.  A lightness lifted my chest and sent a loud scream from my lungs.  We rolled down our windows and felt the wind in our faces as freedom soared in our hearts. I think my foot pressed down harder on the gas pedal, but I tried to stay within the speed limit. The boys hung their arms out the window, trying to catch the air stream.
I felt rejuvenated.  I felt close to my brother.  I felt spring in my heart.

Since then, every spring we insert CCR into the disc player of our vehicle and kick loose.  For some reason, it only works when the sun is warming the earth and new life is springing forth from the ground.

The rest of the year, you will find me enjoying my classic country music and the singers I love.  Don’t get me wrong.  I can let go with a good “heehaw” during the rest of the year, but CCR, the memory of my brother, and the joy I’ve had with my kids instills in me an excitement and pleasure beyond compare.
"Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds!" -Bob MarleyHappy Spring!


Cindy A. ChristiansenSweet Romance, Humor, Suspense...and Dogs! Fly into a good book at: http://www.dragonflyromance.com
Dog in Vehicle Copyright: / 123RF Stock PhotoCindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

Unlikely Friendships

Chloe and her rat friendIf you follow me on Facebook, then you know that my Tibetan Terrier/Mix, Chloe, is having a relationship with a rat who lives in our garden.
Most followers believe she is digging a hole to get to the rat to instinctively kill it. Actually, they have both been digging the hole.  After my last post that Chloe is dropping her favorite rawhide chews down the hole for the rat to eat, everyone has began to wonder if there is something more between the two. I know I have.
To demonstrate the power of friendship, this weekend's video is about unlikely friendships.

Click on Youtube link and enjoy!
https://youtu.be/AxYiLzWee84
Have a wonderful weekend!

Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet Romance, Humor, Suspense...and Dogs! 
Fly into a good book at: http://www.dragonflyromance.com 
Copyright of photo Cindy A. Christiansen 2014Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author