Da Goddess

There is sadness in beauty, yes. But there’s also beauty in sadness. One simply cannot escape beauty unless you close your heart and your mind to it.

The same goes for kindness, love, compassion, and honor.

Fuck donald trump. Without Medicaid and SNAP, I’m not going to be able to afford groceries or the proper nutrition for my diabetes and heart disease. I won’t be able to afford the medication necessary to maintain my current health status. And I’ve been doing well because I take my meds, I exercise, and I eat the right foods. I work to maintain my numbers.

trump eliminating programs I paid into for years is not okay. He wants to penalize people like you and me so the people with far more resources can line their coffers.

Nope. I am not about to accept this bullshit. Especially when they try to steal Social Security benefits from all of us who have paid into for decades.

But, hey! What does it matter to people who have all the money they need AND THEN SOME? They don’t care if any of us lives or dies.

Am I to be just another statistic?

“Oh, no! She died. If only she had lived a healthier lifestyle back when she was younger. It doesn’t matter that she was genetically predisposed for those things. Preexisting conditions! Now, I have to go take my Aricept.” ~ donald fucking trump

I’m not going to be quiet and pray that someone stops this shit show. I’ve spent hours on the phone calling every single person who is supposed to represent me, my needs, the needs of my family, my neighbors, even people I don’t like. If they’re drawing a check as a public servant, then they’re going to hear what the public has to say.

When I say I make around 180 calls a day, it’s not an exaggeration. If the line is busy (as it has been since trump took office), I hang up and try again. 180 calls on a busy day. If I get through, I can stop calling that person for the day. I’ll call them again tomorrow and the day after that, then day after that one, and I’ll continue to call until every elected official is hearing what the public is saying.

I didn’t suffer for 18 years without support to finally qualify for SSI, only to have it stripped away because a billionaire who makes $8 million a day in government contracts wants even more.

The average person on Social Security earns $65 a day. Cut one day of Lone Skum’s $8mil and you can pay over 1200 people their SSA benefits. Funny how something that simple could save people from eating pet food or simply starving to death.

But, who cares what I think? I’m just one of millions who desperately despises avarice and straight up corruption. The wealthy — excuse me, the ULTRA WEALTHY — stealing from you, me, our kids, our siblings, our parents, and everyone else who has paid into these essential programs is ludicrous. The wealthy have enough. They have enough to coast until they die, until their kids and grandchildren die. They are literally that rich. They sure as fuck don’t need to take our money, our benefits.

I’m angry. I’m fucking pissed. I’m at 🤬🤯👿 levels of pissed-offedness. Yes, that’s a word. If it’s not, who’s going to tell me otherwise? We’re all lawless anymore, aren’t we?

Call all your representatives today and demand this bullshit end NOW.
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202-224-3121

Hi, I’m a constituent calling from [zip code]. My name is ______.

I’m calling because donald trump and Elon Musk are stripping away the rights and benefits of citizens –including “birthright” citizens (14th Amendment: if you are born in the United States, you are a citizen and are entitled to all the rights and responsibilities of citizenship in the United States of America.).

Musk is about to do to the federal government what he did to X — a company that has lost 75% of its value since he took over. Unless Congress gets him out of our government now, holds Trump accountable for his actions in allowing this (and encouraging it), our country will meet the same fate and every member of Congress who failed to act will bear the blame for it.

Act now to save your constituents and yourselves (no money from taxpayers = no paycheck for you). You are meant to be working for us. Do your sworn duty.

I hate coconut and refuse to ingest it voluntarily. The texture and taste are off-putting. I don’t mind the smell most of the time. That said, if I read 728 peer reviewed studies touting coconut’s health benefits, I would understand the information, synthesize it, share it with others in my own fashion, and continue to eschew it for myself. That’s part of my experience throughout the k-12 educational system. I also learned how to read studies in their most technical aspects as a nurse. I can share the information whilst knowing it’s still not something I can ingest personally unless the taste and texture are completely masked.

The Coke v Pepsi argument? One is sweeter than the other. One is more carbonated than the other. I prefer one, but would not turn down the other if it was the only option available. Or, I would go without. I could easily spend 20 minutes discussing the pros and cons with someone, although I choose to spend that time discussing topics of much greater interest to me and the person with whom I’m conversing.

If I’m talking with someone who has greater knowledge and experience about a topic, I’ll listen, ask questions, and then research more on my own time to educate myself further. I may or may not reach the same conclusions as my conversation partner, but I will have sought to educate myself further. That’s what learning is all about!

One of the greatest advantages of being human is the gift of obtaining knowledge, processing it through the complex computer network we call the brain, and being able to use that information to improve our lives and the lives of those around us. Unfortunately, there are entire swaths of people who opt out of the onboarding of information, choosing to merely parrot the words of others because they feel someone else has already done the hard work for them. They have denied themselves, their families, their friends, and their communities of the opportunity to grow. They’ll choose to amplify misinformation, regardless of how insane it sounds. They’ll prop up the ignorant. And they’ll worship at the feet of the inept, corrupt, and the cruel. That’s why it’s imperative for us to seek out a wiiiide range of sources, find studies that are backed by peer review, and take the time to think critically for ourselves. Otherwise we’re all just chanting the same nonsense before we drink the special Kool-Aid.

Critical thinking is essential to growth. Read from a variety of sources, including those with views that challenge what you have learned thus far. Compare and contrast the information you’ve gathered. Seek out the source material. Dig into the peer reviews. Challenge yourself to get to the basis of the information you’ve found. And THEN formulate your opinion.

Like all of us, I have had my share of experiences where I’ve allowed others to think for me. I have chosen to go along with what I’ve heard without bothering to look into it. That was always to my detriment. I made a concerted effort to break myself of employing that shortcut because I no longer wished to perpetuate the spread of misinformation. It’s still tempting to want to take that route, but I look at the note I’ve saved to my welcome message on my phone: “Did you verify it?”*

That simple question is part of a process. There are other questions I ask along the way: “Does it make sense when you examine it from every angle? Is there any information that you could receive that would change your perspective? Is this something you feel comfortable standing by 100%? How does this sound when you speak it out loud? Does it ring true?”

If I have even one piece of information that doesn’t fit, I go back to the drawing board. I have to. I do it because there are some topics that are far too important to allow incorrect and/or incomplete information to be shared.

Critical thinking is a specialized skill that we humans need to use.

Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk. There will be no further questions at this time. (Yes, there will. But be specific, and be prepared for a well-researched response.)

* Verifying, for me, requires at least three unrelated sources. Peer reviewed. Published by respected medical, technical, academic, industrial journals. Everything needs to be based on the latest studies. I don’t want white papers, either. I don’t want white paper “experts” using their limited scope in a subject (they’re considered an “expert” while lacking the license and actual experience in a particular field) clouding or biasing their position. I want full studies from the people who ran the experiments, have used the methods, and have verified the results are repeatable. I’m a picky bitch, but I know how easy it is to get caught in the excitement of a solution, a cure, a revolutionary new way to do something, or a new product that will change lives forever. It’s little things like these that keep me feeling more confident in the future. And so now you know.

Every year, this is how I celebrate.

Merry Christmas, friends! May you always remember the best moments of life and love today. You are loved. You are valued. You are seen. Merry Christmas.

Here’s Justin Hines.

I’m pretty sure I post these videos every Christmas Eve and I love each of them more with each passing year.

One of my favorite songs for this time of year.

Not that I come close to baby Jesus or even the Great and Holy Theotokos, but a manger has been found and I am thrilled.

It’s good to have the search finally over.

Now, I can focus on getting healthy again. We’ve all been sick here. This is round two. It’s kicked our asses. I’m at the blowing my nose and getting grayish-brownish-greenish goo or blood. The sore throat is abating. The body aches are barely existent. All signs that I’m going in the right direction. Small wins are still wins.

I was going to post a video for Away in a Manger, but I couldn’t find a version I liked. Instead, I bring you The Season’s Upon Us from the Dropkick Murphys.

May you be warm, cozy, and comfortable as Christmas Eve Eve progresses.

I’ve been MIA for a long time, obviously. My excuse? Dealing with crazy ass people, moving (three times in less than three months), dealing with nice people, trying to get some semblance of normalcy (quit laughing!) in my life, dealing with grief throughout all of this insanity, etc., etc., etc.

Currently looking for a new place to live and actually call home for at least a year. At this point, I don’t care where it is. I just want to be somewhere drama-free, affordable, and comfortable.

Adventures in house hunting: -30/10. Do NOT recommend. Ever. Particularly, and this is the least crazy, the man who showed me around the place (it was nice) and offered to knock off $300 if I would fuck him whenever he wanted. Oh, and it might not always be him. He might send a friend to have some fun. As I slowly backed out of the house, I thanked him, told him I wasn’t interested, and, as I closed the door, said he was fucking insane.

My head feels all ‘splodey. Good times.

I have until the 1st to find somewhere. I’m trying to find someplace sooner because I’m living with three other people (one of whom requires total care), two dogs, and four cats. It’s a two bedroom house. (Quit laughing!) I actually don’t mind most of it, except for the dogs jumping all over me while I’m trying to sleep, the cats fighting as they try to work out the rules (one human, one dog, two cats are recent additions), and sweeping up enough enough fur to assemble another giant dog every six hours. Today? We added two kids to the mix. Chaos. Good chaos. But, honestly, I would like a little quiet. A little. Just a smidgen.

I would also like to sleep for approximately three weeks. Sigh.

Other than that, life is bordering on Dullsville. What’s up with you?

It’s that time of year again! I’m commemorating the years I’ve been blogging while also celebrating my years on this planet.

These are not insignificant numbers. 22: how many people do you know who are still involved with something they started on a whim over twenty years ago? 58: there are people who predicted I’d never see this age. My, but I bet they’re surprised! Well, not all of them are still living. Hey, I had absolutely NOTHING TO DO WITH THEIR DEPARTURES!!! Life (and death) happens. No spells or curses were utter, purchased, or distributed. Not by me.

It feels a little funny to continue blogging despite no longer having a large readership. Hell, I’d be stretching to call what I have a small readership. Micro. I have a micro readership. And that’s all thanks to Pam. Love you, girlfriend! The thing is, I stopped writing for anyone else years ago. I write for me. If I bother to write, that is. This is just one of the places I call home. (Ah, yes. The pretense of having multiple homes. It’s my fantasy, I can have as many homes as I like. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.)

So, here I am. Pretty much writing to myself and one or two others. I’m surprisingly okay with it. It’s a far cry from where I was twenty years ago, but things change. Funny how age can either drive you nuts or make you contented. Sometimes all in the same hour. That’s just life.

The truth is, I really like my life right now. I like where I am. I like where I live. I like who I live with (GmaB is truly an amazing lady who exudes goodness and love). I like who I am here. I like all the things I do. I’m taking care of someone. I’m in a home that was built with lots of love. If it weren’t for the major heat in the summer, it would be perfect. Actually, it is perfect. I don’t have to go outside in the heat except to take out the trash. There’s good air conditioning. See? I can’t even complain about the weather. Who am I anymore?

Having found this new wonderful state of mind, I feel like an idiot for not finding it sooner. It was always there for the taking. I just couldn’t see it. Now, I do.

And with that, I’ll bid you adieu for now and go have a birthday donut. Raspberry filled.

Here’s to whatever adventures come next!

To revisit the tale of my head injury, well, why not?

On that fateful early February morn, I was feeding the bison an apple. It wasn’t the bison I normally feed as he was in a different corral. No, this was a younger male who was taking his role as a novice — and temporary — alpha male quite seriously. Not in an aggressive manner, just in a “I’m going to eat everything you offer before anyone else and you’ll have to throw the food on the ground for them while I’ll eat from your hand” kinda way. Had the actual alpha bull been around, this is what he’d have done.

There I was, feeding Dos (my nickname for this young bull) an apple. He knocked it from my hand, so I bent down to retrieve it. He ate from my hand again and promptly knocked it out once more. I retrieved it. Again. Then a third time. As I bent down to get it (on my side of the fence, mind you), apparently, he felt challenged and struck out at me. My mistake was bending forward in front of him at the part of the fence that was merely steel cable instead of the steel bars.

His head smashed into me (OMG! Holy fuck, it hurt!) and I was slammed onto my back. His horn had ripped into my scalp, which I realized almost immediately because I felt the warm gush of blood pouring down my head. I used my least muddy hand to try to stanch the flow. I also had to find my glasses. Surprisingly, I hadn’t lost consciousness nor had my glasses been broken. I saw the apple next to me, flipped it into the corral, and told Dos he was fine. He snorted in agreement.

I was able to stand without wobbling or falling over (maybe I wobbled a bit, hard to recall every little detail). Yay! I was able to bend down and retrieve my glasses without falling. Yay! Walking back to the house, all I could think was I needed to find someone to stay with GmaB that night. I called her son and told him this. After explaining what happened and saying I was going to call 911, he told me to hold off calling them and he’d be right over. I asked him to bring a clean towel.

Blood was pouring through my fingers, down my face, down the back of my head, everywhere. I went to the dining room window and knocked on it to get the attention of the caregiver who was on duty. Her absolute surprise was evident the very second she saw me. I asked her to grab my towel from the bathroom. Once my head was wrapped, I attempted to wash my free hand. She helped. GmaB’s son arrived, agreed I needed the hospital, and helped me into his vehicle.

At this point, I had no idea if my skull was split open or what, but the pain was beginning to really hit. Funny how shock delays the worst of it. I made stupid jokes to try to keep from crying because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop if I started.

We weren’t at the hospital hospital. The hospital runs like an urgent care center that’s also kind of like a hospital emergency room. I can’t explain it better than that. Anyhow, once there, I had quite a few people checking on me. I think they were shocked I was walking and talking and joking around. Believe me when I say I was doing my best to keep the tears in check. Panic was just below the surface. Only just. At some point, my wound was slightly cleaned, a pressure dressing applied, and I was sent for a CT scan. Once it was determined I didn’t have any skull fractures, the next step was determining if I required a trauma surgeon to take care of the cleaning, suturing, and whatever else was needed. The answer: yes. This meant I had to have at least one IV and an ambulance. One nurse came in with a young woman who was obviously a student and I told her her she was going to do just fine, there was no way she was going to cause me more pain than I was already experiencing, and even if she wasn’t able to get the IV started, any practice is good practice. The relief on her face was priceless! She initially got the IV, but the vein (my very bestestest vein!) collapsed, rendering that access point useless. The RN tried and couldn’t get it. Another RN came to try. He had some luck, but then that vein collapsed. One of the paramedics finally got it and we were off.

At the *actual* hospital, I waited and waited and waited, then asked for assistance to the bathroom because I was ready to burst. Once back from the loo, everyone was ready for me. Things went quickly from that point on. I was taken to surgery, got one of the nurses to take a couple photos of my head before, during, and after surgery, and I woke up with an adult-sized bang-a-roo* of a headache. The meds from surgery wore off far too quickly and I…

Something Something Something…blah blah blah. I had more of the story written here, but in a fog of exhaustion, I erased it. I don’t recall what I was writing, either.

Needless to say, I survived the entire ordeal. My scar is large, my hair is short, and I’m impatiently awaiting hair to return to its former glory.

* I miss you, Robert Urich.

All this to say, “I didn’t die. Yay.”

The doctor survived the suture and drain removal!

Don’t laugh. It was a close one.

I won’t lie. The drain removal hurt like a mofo. I cried a tiny bit. Then I swore…just a wee bit. Times three. I hyperventilated a big bit. I clenched up my entire body a huge bit. And I spontaneously blathered odd animal facts an enormous bit. So, the doctor survived. As did I.

My incision looks good. The drain area will close in a day or two. And I shall never Never NEVER need a trauma surgeon ever again. I hope.

Good God, I’m glad that’s over.

I now have proof of it. If I could post the pictures, I would. I’m currently the new favorite story for the trauma team at the local hospital.

No broken skull, thank God. But I do have 14cm (I think they said centimeters) of stitches, a drain, and half a head shaved. 24 hours later, I’m home and sporting a lovely dressing and am excited at the prospect of donning a shower cap so I can get cleaned up. Mud and some bison manure, plus lots of blood, need to go.

It’s been a very surreal 36 hours.

Still here, though! Still laughing. Gently. Too painful to do otherwise.

Signed,

Buffalo Gal

Every year, this is how I celebrate Christmas.

Merry Christmas, friends! May you always remember the best moments of life and love today.

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One of my favorite songs for this time of year.