2022/04/26

45 Days

Da Goddess @ 12:00

I got accepted into a long Covid study. Forty-five days of monitoring my symptoms on medications and various other treatments.

It looks like it’ll consist of twice weekly checks on me, how I’m doing with meds, and if there’s any improvement.

I didn’t think I’d qualify based on the fact that they weren’t monitoring me from the beginning of the infection, but that’s kind of the point for the study. That’s fine by me. Anything that helps raise the profile of long Covid is worth doing. If it helps to refine the process of treatment for others, it’s a good thing. If it helps to identify the signs and symptoms as well as the need for treatment of long Covid sooner, that’s even better.

There’s no stipend, but I get free meds, free appointments, free monitoring at home, it’s going to help track the effects of the disease process, and maybe even help stave off more serious complications from Covid.

With more and more people discovering they’ve developed long-term health problems from the virus (any variant), it’s comforting to know there are teams out there putting time and effort into making life easier for those who’ve found themselves on the losing end of this awful illness.

I can’t stress enough how fortunate I feel that I had a mild case and didn’t end up in hospital, on a respirator, or losing my life from Covid. If not for the vaccine, I don’t know that I’d be here or be in good enough shape to write this.

Yes, I still got sick. Yes, I still ended up with long Covid. But at least I’m still here and able to contribute to the development of protocols for others.

If you’re not yet vaccinated, please consider doing so. We have no idea what the next variant will do or when it’ll hit…but hit, it will. There are so many places where hospitals are at capacity once again. The airlines are already seeing a loss of flight staff since declaring an end to mandatory masking. As more people feel emboldened to eschew masks, travel more freely, and return to pre-pandemic behavior, this will only get worse. We’re not done with Covid and it’s not done with us.

Please protect yourself and your loved ones by getting vaccinated and boostered. Mask up. Wash your hands like they’re covered in shit. Sanitze the house like you just discovered an Ebola outbreak. It’s our best defense against prolonging the pandemic.

And please, remember that I wasn’t out and about when I got infected. It was brought home by someone who thought he was safe because he’d had it before and had been vaccinated since. Covid’s gonna Covid. There’s no grace for those who don’t believe in the virulence of it. It can happen to anyone. It happened to me.

2022/04/21

WTAF? Too Hot

Da Goddess @ 03:09

Today is supposed to be hitting 97°. That’s just bonkers, if you ask me.
It’s late-mid-April. It doesn’t need to be that hot already!

H’s brother-in-law is a weatherman here and I’ve already cussed him out about it.

What’s the point of having friends in high places if they can’t pull a few strings for you?

Test results should be in today. Not sure if I really want to know. However, I know in my heart of hearts it’s better to know and start treatment if that’s what is needed. The earlier you catch the problem, the earlier you start treating it, the better the outcome. My nurse brain accepts this wisdom, yet my denial meter screams “NOOOOOOO!”

Fingers crossed!

2022/04/13

And So It Goes

Da Goddess @ 23:45

There’s nothing standing in the way of Long Covid around here. Nope. Not a damn thing.

Vaccines? Boosters? Masks? Handwashing? Hand sanitizing? Staying home? Cleaning every surface with the intensity of a obsessive compulsive? Check × 7.

But! And this is a HUGE BUT! Without the vaccine and boosters and all the other measures, I’d have been sicker and could’ve been hospitalized. Thus, I’m exceedingly grateful for all the steps taken to ensure my infection was mild and short-lived.

What I didn’t expect was ending up with Long Covid. The pulmonary effects, I understand. The headaches, I think I’ve come to terms with them. The odd sleep patterns have been part of my life for ages; they’re just different these days. But now there are palpitations and other nasty little bits of cardiac complications that may never go away completely. Oh, and a funky bunch of kidney/urinary things that have cropped up. Whether from the meds, the infection, or a combination thereof, remains to be seen.

I’m being treated for all my symptoms, being worked up for the new ones, put on medication — hopefully — temporarily. I just wish I could see the light at the end of the tunnel for a change.

Basically, it’s been party city all the way ’round.

Omicron has been a nasty motherfucker. I don’t want to meet the newest version of it or any other version of Covid. Ever. I highly recommend you do your best to avoid all strains as well. I wouldn’t wish this shit on my worst enemy.

2022/04/02

Variety is the Spice of Life

Da Goddess @ 22:49

Consider this a big ol’ melting pot of stuff. Instead of a bunch of short posts, I’m tossing everything in this one post. Bam! Consider this thing spiced!

Post-Covid: I’m still having flares every week or so. Fevers, sweats, coughing fits, chest tightness, etc etc etc. It got so bad, I ended up in the emergency department one afternoon. Came home with inhalers and a nebulizer and more potions than you can shake a stick at. I mean

, you could shake a stick at them, but it would just be a waste of time and energy. I do not have energy to spare these days.

The only good thing about this lingering nonsense is I’ve had a bit more sleep since getting medication to suppress the cough.

Social security: money has finally started to hit my account. Oh, and I had to get a new account. It’s all good. Opening a new account took 20 minutes from beginning to end. And that was a revelation! Once done, I had money in less than a week. It’s going to be a while before the next installment of back pay comes, but I don’t mind as long as my monthly payments show up.

Food: I’ve been using my time to play around with recipes. I’ve done everything from a lemon loaf to Mexican to Chinese to Polish to a little French to good old American fare. I don’t have a ton of energy, but I make what I have work. Thus far, it’s all turned out well. H appreciates the results, as does the adorable idiot who has stolen more than any animal I’ve ever known. Unless the food is in the oven, up on a high shelf, or in the fridge, he’ll find a way to it and steal it. He has no remorse. None. Cookie just looks at DJuke like he’s the dumbest thing on earth, especially if she didn’t get any of the food. Otherwise, she pretends she knows nothing about the heist.

Art projects: I’ve started collecting for another art project. Yes, I’m still collecting bread tags of all shapes, colors, and sizes. I’m also now collecting the stopper clips from nasal spray bottles. (See photos below.) I’m not basing everything I’m doing on items normally thrown away, but these two projects in particular are using things that one would toss without a second thought.

If you have any either of these things, please save them for me and let me know. I will pay for the shipping. It’s actually very inexpensive and it’s nice to know I’m repurposing things that would either end up in a landfill or the ocean.

Stopper clips

Bread tags

That’s all there is for this round of What the Hell is She Up To?!

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2022/03/21

Memories, Nostalgia, and Obsession

Da Goddess @ 00:33

I started a walk down Memory Lane one recent night that quickly led to a case of nostalgia for my very early years on this earth. It didn’t take long for nostalgia to become obsession.

I was overwhelmed by memories of my maternal grandparents: Grandma and Grandfather. My Dad’s parents were Grandma and Pappy (though Pappy married Grandma Eleanor or Lenore [who had A PINBALL MACHINE IN HER BASEMENT!!!] after Original Grandma died). Anyhow, I was thinking about Grandma and Grandfather this particular time. They were the ones who: had an enchanted garden, a magic mirror in the bathroom, the electric organ, and neighbors with the little girl burned to death (Bernadette). Their house was the second one from the corner. That detail I distinctly recall. How can I be certain? Because the cars would have to slow down for the stop sign at the intersection. We kids slept in the front bedroom and we could hear the telltale clickety tickety of the slowing tires and watch the headlights as they rolled past. I remember Bernadette’s house being on the corner. Grandma and Grandfather’s house was a single story, whereas Bernadette’s house was two stories. These are important details, as you’ll come to appreciate shortly.

For some reason, as my nostalgia gave way to curiosity (oh, shit! I left out that part of the grand journey to obsession, didn’t I?), I started to think maybe I could find their house by googling the road. That’s the only part of the puzzle I had firmly in my mental grasp. No street number, just the name of the street. Should be relatively easy, shouldn’t it? Google maps could lead me down this path and I’d magically (technologically) find a piece of my childhood and live happily ever after, secure in the knowledge that something so precious to me still exists.
If only. All I have to do is find a single story house next to a two story house, second from the corner, on a specific street, and BAM-A-ROONY! Mystery solved.

As if.

I spent no less than three hours trying to find the house. That night. I’ve since revisited the oh so (not) helpful maps of Googleland. My quest, apparently, has no end.

At this point, I should mention that I’m working with a very fickle Bluetooth signal. (Predictive text tried to turn fickle into fucked, which is not only kinda funny, but also a whole MOOD…and an accurate one at that.) So, of course, while I have my Google map groove in gear and hot on the trail of MY QUEST FOR THE HOLY GRAIL of childhood memories, the Bluetooth signal keeps crapping out on me. I think this is how memories become nostalgia becomes curiosity becomes obsession. Curiosity can become victory pretty quickly if you have a solid connection to the world wide web. Denied that solidity? Curiosity becomes obsession. The itch to continue your search leads to a jittery and frantic dance as you toggle between windows/functions. Just as you think you’re on the precipice of a MAJOR BREAKTHROUGH, you get a wee dinosaur and the notice of “lost connection”.

This. This is when you realize you can no longer just drop the search for a bit and get some sleep. Oh no. You’re far too keyed up for sleep. You’re at peak wakefulness now. You. Must. Continue. The. Quest.

So, three hours and multiple “damnit!”, “fucking hell!”, “shit on a pointy stick!”, and other utterances of frustration (are there any other types of utterances?) later, you finally give up — ¡temporalmente! — because your already wreck of a body can’t take any more spasms and teeth-grinding madness. There’s only so much a body can take. I don’t care who you are. There’s a point where you simply must decide that shitting yourself during the marathon just isn’t worth it. I’m all for not shitting myself, figuratively or literally. And my back and neck will attest to the fact that I can no longer spend hours tied up in knots of anticipatory stupor. I just can’t do it.

And thus, I’ve reached the end…so far…of my QUEST for the house my grandparents owned when I was a wee bairn. I shall let you know when — not “if” — I am triumphant.

Wish me luck.

P.S. I blame this all on Covid brain, lingering paroxysmal coughing fits, and my ever present insomnia. But, mostly Covid brain and the coughing. So, basically, Covid.

2022/03/19

Chicken Soup for the Belly

Da Goddess @ 00:05

It’s that time again. Chicken soup is my jam. Whenever I have the energy and the back cooperates, I cook. It’s now all I do when I have the energy, which isn’t often. I’ve just been extremely run down, coughing, night sweats, headaches, chest pain from all the coughing, and generally tired. I’m lucky to get a couple hours of sleep at a go. I’ve decided if this goes on much longer, it’s off to see a doctor because I just can’t seem to go more than a week or ten days before it starts all over again. What’s the deal with that???

2022/03/18

A New (to me) Song

Da Goddess @ 14:45

I have a new song I listen to frequently when I’m in one of those moods. It helps me wash away the cobwebs and sadness.

And there you have it: the sweetest mind and heart cleanser.

2022/03/02

It’s a Boy!

Da Goddess @ 18:56

In the past week, while I’ve been cursing the slow progress toward recovery from the dreaded Covid, Mr H got himself another dog.

He got drunk one night and, while on Facebook, looked at the local lost and found pets page, saw a dog he couldn’t resist (this is actually the second one; the first was with a woman who wouldn’t deliver*), and agreed to take if the rescuers could bring the dog to the house. They agreed. And the very next day, voila! Another dog.

It’s a boy.

His current name is Duke. Or Juke. He answers to both (because they sound the same). He briefly answered to Rex. He was also temporarily Billy Joe, after Billy Joe Shaver — he seemed to really like “Live Forever” and so we tried that. Prior to that was Bubba. H calls him Buddy more often than not. He also refers to him as “her” because he’s used to having a female dog around. He’ll be paying for DJuke’s therapy for years.

This beastie is young. He’s totally untrained and, boy oh boy, he’s doing his best to resist learning the basics! I think he was abused before he was abandoned because of the way he reacts to a hand placed on his rump. If you slide a hand down while petting him, he’s okay. Try touching his hind end otherwise? He’s jumpy and he tries to squirm away. So, teaching him to sit is a very slow work in progress. I’m doing my best to capture the behavior and reward him for it while repeating the word “sit”. It’s pretty much the only way to get there from here. I’ve also resorted to asking Cookie to sit and rewarding her for doing so in front of DJuke.

I haven’t worked with many abused/abandoned dogs in the past, but I’m willing to put in the work while I can because I really love this goofball. Already. Yeah, it’s a sickness. I fall for animals very quickly.

DJuke fell in love with the Mr Piggy toy. The weird, deep squeal it had turned into a a funny, higher pitched squeal. Then it went silent. The pig has lost some of its appeal without the sound. According to the dogs, that is. Maybe according to the humans, too. Maybe. Maaaaaayyyybeeee. Possibly.

Now it’s time for me to go slather purple dye on my head again. I have errands tomorrow afternoon with H’s sister and I’d like to look presentable. Ish.

* H’s car has died again and he needed to have the first dog dropped off. The woman agreed to it, but flaked. I was secretly relieved because the dog looked less-than-healthy. With DJuke, the young couple who found him had taken him to the vet for a once over and a chip check. He was deemed healthy and unchipped. And thus he was posted to the Facebook group. The couple also delivered.

2022/02/27

The Covid Chronicles, Day Something or Other

Da Goddess @ 03:42

I really have no idea what day I’m on numberwise with my Covid recovery. It’s been more than three weeks, for sure. Maybe four. Beyond that, no clue.

The coughing continues unabated. Ugh. My voice is coming back. The headaches are much less frequent, which I greatly appreciate. Boy do I not miss the headaches! The fevers and chills are (mostly) a thing of the past. And I’m no longer positive!

Honestly can’t believe I was testing positive for as long as I did. And while I’m so glad I was vaccinated and had a mild case, I feel badly for anyone who isn’t vaccinated and/or has had a worse time with the plague called Covid.

I truly had a few days of feeling like I should’ve been put out of my misery — and misery it was! When everything hurts as much as my body hurt (from my split ends to my tips of my toenails), fever, chills, coughing, congestion from head to chest, and every other malady, I simply cannot comprehend the whole “it could be worse” concept. Except, I kind of can. I mean, I survived sepsis, right? Covid and sepsis had a couple features in common: nipples feeling like they were on fire, bleeding, or just ready to fall off; body pain (body “aches” won’t cut it when you feel like I felt); the chills (I know my fever didn’t come anywhere close to what I experienced with sepsis — 105+°, anyone?); the overall regret that I had to deal with any of it.

Anyhow, I feel for anyone who has experienced Covid in any capacity, especially those who didn’t get a mild case. I can’t urge you enough to get vaccinated. Really, truly, I beg of you: get vaccinated!!! This shit is nasty.

Some stats (for those who like that sort of thing):

Cough drops: let’s call it 190+.

You may think I’m exaggerating the number. I am not. I started with a bag of spearmint cough drops, approximate number 30. H brought me two bags of cherry cough drops, each count of 80. I’m already on my second bag. So the approximation of 190+ is more than valid. My tongue may be permanently red at this point, but I don’t care because these damn things are precious (kind of like the One Ring, as opposed to the other nineteen) and have saved my chest, throat, back, and gut from taking an even worse beating than it did (has, continues to endure). Just a few minutes ago, I was coughing up what’s left of my lungs. Thanks to the cough drops, it hurts less than expected because I’m constantly sucking on these drops made from the nectar of the gods. I cannot encourage you enough to always keep cough drops around! They help clear phlegm and the like, reduce throat tickle, and generally keep things loose and easy to hork up. It makes all the difference between paroxysmal coughing that’ll kill you — or at least make you pass out — and the coughing I have now. It’s still unpleasant. However, I’m not going to pass out or die from what remains. I will not miss coughing. Let’s hope I’m celebrating soon.

Tissues and tissue-adjacent materials: 1000lbs. Or, that’s what they’ve been asked to contain! Lots of congestion means lots of clearing the entire body of all this snot and it snot fun. (Make pun of me all you want. I’m glad I can get this deathbed humor off my chest!)

I have no idea what prompted me to stock up on tissues a couple months ago, just glad I did! When combined with the toilet paper, napkins, and paper towels, I think it’s safe to say I’ve used a half ton of soft, thin, pliable products to catch the ick out of my nose and mouth.

Gallons of water and other beverages I’ve choked on and/or spit out and/or puked up: close to 30 gallons, I’m confident in saying. In fact, the entire reason I started this particular post comes down to me choking on a teeny weeny, itsy bitsy, microscopic amount of water! Forget any other reason I may have previously given. It was choking on half an eighth teaspoon of water that got me reaching for my phone to share the near death experience with you. That’s the God’s honest truth.

Compared with the huge numbers of everything else thus far, 30 gallons seems like child’s play, doesn’t it? Except, it’s actually a significant amount of fluid one’s body very much doesn’t want in one’s lungs.

It was awful. My glasses are now covered with the dried tears of my efforts to clear what’s left of my lungs of the deadly invader called water.

Loads of laundry: More than I can remember. Between sweating, not wanting to keep breathing in anything viral, and the result of the next item, I was doing laundry every few days. Blech.

Number of times I almost pooped/did poop myself while coughing: THREE. Okay, FIVE. Fine! Damnit, a whole bunch!

One of the ingredients in the cough syrup acts like a stool softener for me. So, as much as I needed the cough suppressant feature, I absolutely hated taking it because I didn’t want to end up crapping the bed/myself. Thankfully, I didn’t have many actual soiled drawers. There’s only so much laundry one can do from one’s sick bed. Y’all know I’d never leave something like that unlaundered beyond the time it takes to shower off one’s own ass and get into fresh, clean clothes. Add to that the whole lack of energy and you got a perfect storm of shittiness.

And here’s the final entry. Cough syrup: less than you’d think. Three or four (maybe five) bottles. I tried to take it just at night in order to help me sleep. Mostly didn’t want the poop situation happening every time I started coughing, sneezing, breathing, or blinking. The more I take, the more likely to have a code brown. What a conundrum, right? Thus, a truly unique situation presented itself. It reminded me of a George Wallace joke about the time he and his wife had the stomach flu. “Sleep tight took on a whole new meaning. You puckered up, but not how you’d think.” (I’ve tried to find a clip of him saying this on the Tubes of You and had zero luck.)

Okay, I’m off to sleep. I desperately need it.

Please take care of yourselves and each other. We’re not out of the Covid woods yet and I’d really would like all of you to remain healthy and alive!

2022/02/12

I’ve Lost Track

Da Goddess @ 17:34

I’ve lost track of which day I’m on of Covid infection. I’m certain it’s been over a week, but beyond that I’ve no clue.

What I’m experiencing now is utterly delightful. Not so much. Severe headaches, increased cough, absolute disaster as far as sleep goes. I mean, I already have sleep issues

, right? So why must that now be compounded by the coughing and headaches? Can’t I just get to the point where I’m too sick to stay awake?

H ended up with the same symptoms today, which means we’re having a grand old time of it.

The dog’s on high alert, barking at every fucking thing seen, heard, and/or imagined. Each bark translates into brain rattling and soul crushing pain.

To add to the extreme fun, our toilet stopped working. Again. Third time since I’ve been here. This particular time, though, had me waiting five hours to pee after waking with a full and very uncomfortable bladder. I found myself wishing I’d been born a boy so I could go pee out in the yard. No such luck for this gal. When the toilet was finally fixed, I started the miserable trek to the bathroom. It was at that moment H decided he wanted to tell me about the plumber and his brother. I think the look of murderous rage (along with the sloshing of urine) in my eyes was what stopped him from continuing the story. Smart decision. I’ve been incited to violence by less.

Now I’m back to simply and silently cursing this plague, for I don’t know how much longer I can take the headaches and the coughing.

I’m considering rigging up an Acme anvil to drop on my head at some random moment. At least that way, I’ll be unconscious for a while. Also? I’m wondering how much more my head could possibly hurt.

Anyone available to help with the rigging of the aforementioned anvil? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller*?

* Autocorrect is our frequent flyer here. The second Bueller corrected itself to read Mueller. I like that simple twist and wish I could say I came up with it to begin with. Problem is: I have no idea from whence it came and lack the gumption to fight it.

2022/02/10

I’m Positive

Da Goddess @ 21:47

I spent part of last night and this morning rather angry. I mean, *really, really angry*. For good reason, too.

I’m 100% positive. Nary a doubt in the universe. That’s quite a strong response

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, to be honest, but it’s deserved.

Then, I got yelled at for telling someone.

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Here’s the thing: I ended up with Covid. I haven’t been out of the house in over a month

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, except one trip to the grocery store. Weeks ago. And I was masked, used hand sanitizer, etc., etc., etc. There is only one way I could have been infected.

H was sick about a week ago. Then I started getting sick. It honestly felt like a low-key sinus infection for the first couple of days. By the third day, I had awful chills; a severe headache; a dry, persistent cough; horrendous body aches; and my sinuses were half congested/half draining like mofos. On day four, my cough turned productive and chunky, plus all the other symptoms were kicking my ass. Day five was slightly better??? Day six was awful again.

Day six was also the day my Covid test kits finally arrived. I took a test, et voilà! Positive from the very second the solution hit the test card. I waited the full 15 minutes, though, to confirm. The results hadn’t changed.

I promptly informed H. Instead of staying home, he opted to go to an open mic at a local restaurant. He’d been to one on Monday as well.

When he got home, I made him do a Covid test, too. While his wasn’t strongly positive from the start, it was positive. When I suggested he needed to inform both venues he’d been to, he said he wasn’t going to tell them, that everyone goes out to such places and takes their chances. I disagreed and he told me I could inform the guy who runs the open mic night at one of the places. And that’s exactly what I did.

Why? Because it’s the responsible course of action! Both H and I have been vaccinated. Some of the people who attend and/or perform the open mic events may not be vaccinated or may have family who haven’t been and who are immunocompromised. They should be told.

When I woke up today, H was pissed because I did exactly what I told him I’d do, what he told me I should do, what was the proper response to having a positive result. It was not a pretty conversation. However, I stood my ground. Then he was mad because his name was mentioned. Listen, it shouldn’t matter! Just be responsible.

Him: why did you have to tell them it was me?

Me: I passed along the info like you agreed to.

Him: but, tell me why you had to share my name!

Me: depending on who you were talking with, as well as who was in the closest proximity to you, it’s all relevant.

Him: and so, now what am I supposed to do? I’m just supposed to stay home and not go anywhere the entire time? Even if I don’t have symptoms? Bored?

Me: that’s right. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do!

H was livid. After him trying to make me feel badly about the situation, it was my turn to get cartoon-level furious! How. Fucking. Dare. He? None of this was my fault!

I passed along word because some of the people who go to open mic nights have newborns

, while others have adults in their lives who might not be able to fight the virus so readily.

A few hours later, H had come to his senses and posted online that he was, indeed positive for Covid. The way he worded it was great and it was exactly the way I would’ve written it myself.

What made/makes me rage-y about the situation is how he tried to make me feel I was in the wrong for doing what I did. That somehow, I was the asshole responsible for any and all anger that might come his way.

This is the part of the post where I get fucking real. Real bitchy, that is: if you aren’t going to take responsibility for getting the information out there in the world, you don’t get to be a fucking asshole about how it’s done. If you don’t want people to think you’re a selfish prick, maybe you should have the balls to tell them yourself. It’s that simple! If you want to control the narrative, you need to be the one to make the statement. Pretty easy Public Disclosure 101 stuff.

I don’t know what the hell he was thinking prior to posting the news on social media, except that I know it wasn’t anything I was responsible for creating, nor was it in any way, shape, or form my fault or my responsibility. He made it my responsibility by refusing to own up to his responsibility to his friends and the community at large.

Whatever made him change his mind, I’m just glad he did.

I can tell you this, too: it’s the last time I listen to him try to make something my fault, try to weasel out of doing the right thing, and definitely the last time he acts ignorant about the most basic of virus protocol.

I’m grateful I got vaccinated, that I’ve isolated, follow good handwashing routines, and am constantly disinfecting every surface I see. If I hadn’t or didn’t do any of those things, I can only imagine how sick I may have become.

I’m not out of the woods yet. I’m getting chills again tonight, the headache is building, and I can feel the body aches ramping up.

If you haven’t been to get the jab(s) yet, I don’t know what you’re waiting for. The side effects of the vaccine are minimal for 99.99999% of those who get the jab. Don’t take a chance on getting Covid. Again, I feel much, much, muchly better knowing I’m more likely to avoid hospitalization and avoiding more serious long-term effects of the virus because I’ve been vaccinated.

If what I’ve had thus far is the mild version, I’m glad I’m not having the worse version. Mild has been awful enough!

Please stay safe out there! Mask up, wash up, clean up, and vax up! The alternative is too horrendous to contemplate.

Yours in positive for Covid,
DG

2021/12/15

On the 2nd Day of Christmas

Da Goddess @ 16:12

On the second day of Christmas, I give to thee:

A West Texas is the Best Texas sunset.

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No tweaking to the color whatsoever. That’s just what God served up and what my phone actually FINALLY got right for a change.

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2021/12/12

2021– Day 346

Da Goddess @ 05:10

Forgive me, reader, for I have sinned. It’s been 92 days since I last posted.

I have absolutely no excuse for not posting other than the fact I just haven’t. Some depression, pain, pain AND depression, avoidance, and even a heavy pour of not feeling like anything I might post would be interesting.

I’m not sure how or why I’ve been so blasé these past few months beyond simply…life. I dunno. There are a lot of gray clouds in my head and they sometimes make it difficult to see beyond them.

More than “occasionally” I’ve found myself truly missing Mom. I’ll watch a show or a movie and think how much she would enjoy it. I start to pick up the phone to call her and then remember she’s gone. I still do that with Dad, too. He’s been gone 3.5 years and I do it. Mom’s only been gone since mid-July. How long does this go on? Anyone know?

ALSO: Every few days, I’ll wake up from some crazy dream, one where they’re still alive and everything is chaotic, perilous, and/or frightening. I’ll awaken and feel a bit shaken, but somehow also at peace because they were helping guide me/us (sisters, kids, friends, etc.) through whatever the crise cauchemardesque (crisis of/in the nightmare). I know it’s my brain trying to work through things. I get that part. And I understand the reason one or both parents are there, taking charge, doing parenty things. I don’t understand why it’s happening so regularly.

It’s frustrating to come to and have that sense of security, warmth, and love dissipate like steam from a cup of tea. You know, on a cold day, having that steam rise and warm your face as you hunch over the cup, both hands wrapped around it. At least you can nuke your drink and feel that rising heat if it gets too cold. You can’t do that with dreams. I mean, you can try to guide your dreams, but I can’t ever seem to get to just the part where I find comfort. Not on demand. Not without the stressful scenes. And I really want that.

I may need to call my therapist for a quick tune-up. In fact, I know I need to do so. I guess that’s the big ticket item on this week’s TO DO list. Happy happy joy joy.

2021/07/19

2021 – Day 200 – There She is Gone

Da Goddess @ 02:50

I will love you always, as I know you always have loved me. I will remember you forever, as you always remembered me. I will go forward with love in my heart and courage to face the unknown. Life continues, but it’s lost a little magic since you left this corporeal existence. I know your magic will find its way to another soul; that’s what you once told me happens when someone you love dies — everything good and kind and wonderful about them finds a new soul and returns to this realm. I believed you then and I believe it still. Your lessons stay learned. Well

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, most of them.

I was blessed to have you as my mother. You taught me how to find joy and love and how to bring it to others. You taught me the beauty of wonder and how it’s so important to hold on to it, to share it, to encourage it, to keep it alive in your heart. You taught me to laugh, even when you most feel like weeping or when you’re scared. You were my home, both literally and figuratively. You were my True North and my home port, my first love. You were and always will remain my mom.

Love doesn’t end just because someone dies. Your love is in every sunset chased, flower noticed, in the laughter of a child, in the very air I breathe. You were made of stardust and to stardust you shall return until you find the next new spirit is borne into this world.

Thank you for your love and for all the light you shined upon us all. I will love you always, as I know you always have loved me. I will remember you forever, as you always remembered me. I will go forward with love in my heart and courage to face the unknown.

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.

She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then

, someone at my side says;
“There, she is gone!”

“Gone where?”

Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port. Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone
at my side says, “There, she is gone!”

There are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout; “Here she comes!”

And that is dying.

~ Luther F. Beecher

Thank you for your love

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, my dear.

At around 0130 this early morning, she left us.

Vale, Mom.

2021/06/30

2021 – Day 181

Da Goddess @ 03:48

Tomorrow will mark the halfway point of the year. It’ll also be one day closer to Mom leaving us.

I can’t do anything to stop the inevitable, however I am sure as hell going to be with Mom as much as possible.

Juggling has never been my strong suit. Okay! Fine! I’ve never successfully juggled more than two balls for more than a few passes. Yet, when it comes to my family and my personal shit, I’m juggling the fuck out of a lot of things. I’m also slowly losing my mind. Guess as I get older, there’s much more shit to stuff in a sock.

The point of all this is…completely lost to me. I don’t even recall what I originally intended.

See? Losing my mind.

If seen, approach with extreme caution as it has been known to be exceedingly sarcastic, caustic, barbed, and considered “a loose canon and could go off at any time.”

Alas, I have no control over anything any more.

Adrift. Asea. In the weeds, as they say. Why, yes, captain of this faulty noggin, I’m staring at you.