Da Goddess

I’m 57 today. Fifty-fucking-seven. I know time goes to Cleveland*, so, then, can you explain how I ended up HERE?

I’ve also been blogging 21 years**. Twenty-fucking-one years. In this time I’ve had a career I loved, endured an attack on my career and my family by bloggers I had once thought of as friends, went to work at a new job, lost my career due to an on-the-job injury, lived in at least 16 different homes***, lost dear friends, gained a significant amount of weight, almost lost my sister TWICE, almost died myself when I developed sepsis, lost both parents, was diagnosed with diabetes, had a complete emotional breakdown, lost a not-so-insignificant amount of weight, developed a cataract that’s essentially blinded me in one eye, and I’m still fucking here.

During this time, I’ve also been privileged to watch my children become lovely adults. I’ve formed some truly beautiful friendships with people who are more like family. I’ve had amazing experiences. I’ve met legends. I’ve achieved some of my loftiest goals. I’ve lived, I’ve laughed, and, yes, I’ve even eaten, prayed, and loved.

Are there things I wished were different? Hell, yes! At the same time, I wouldn’t have wanted to miss out on what came next. You, know, the whole rainbow after the rain thing.

I believe we experience the worst of times to understand and appreciate the best of times. The roller coaster is only fun because of the ups and downs. Otherwise, it’s just a trolley ride across a flat town.

For those of you who are still around and commenting (Pam) or just blurking, thank you. I’m truly grateful. For those who have turned away, I wish you well (or, in one instance, have wished you hell [or at the very least, karmic comeuppance]). Mostly, I wish for the good stuff. Mostly. And that’s what I spend my time praying for. I can’t help myself; I’m a kind of a marshmallow deep down.

Here’s to another trip around the sun!

* ME: Where does the time go? LD: Cleveland.

** As of May 16.

*** It may be more, but I’m too exhausted by the thought of all that moving to list each place on paper and properly get the actual total.

Sorry seems to be the hardest word? Not by a longshot. Even The Fonz would agree with me after being asked to pronounce orrery. Or even rural.

I’ve found orrery and rural to be frustrating words to say properly without sounding like I have a mouthful of peanut butter, crackers, and marshmallows. Simultaneously.

There are other words which fail to easily roll off the tongue, but I’ll be chuffed to think what they may be as I am attempting to converse with a friend on the joys of an orrery found in a rural setting.

I think I’m just going to make up my own language and avoid easily mangled words.

Christos Anesti ek nekron, thanato thanaton patisas, kai tis en tis mnimasi zoin harisamenos.

Translated:
Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and to those in the tombs, granting life.

Kali Pascha, from my family to yours.

I’ve been busy. It’s my only excuse for not posting lately. Well, that and I’ve been lazy. And sick.

We were all sick last month. I was projectile vomiting as I tried to get from bedroom to bathroom at one point. Couldn’t hold down food or water. Coughing. Sore throat. Diarrhea. Aforementioned vomiting. Fever. Headache. Painful ears. Everything. All at once. And we all had it. Including Buckaroo Nugget. Poor baby.

It came in two waves. In other words, as soon as you started feeling better, BAM! It started all over again.

I lost 6 pounds.

I wasn’t mad about the weightloss, just mad at the method.

For the first time ever, I weighed less than Crackerjack. I’ve undone that progress in the last few days as I’ve been ravenous and seemingly eaten whatever I could get my hands on. Oh well, it wasn’t going to last anyway as Crackerjack is still losing baby weight. For that one brief moment, though…

Speaking of weightloss! I don’t recall whether or not I mentioned it, but I’ve lost a bit of it. If I could post pics, I’d do so and give you side-by-side images to illustrate the change. It’s…noticeable.

I had to get rid of a lot of clothes. I’ve never been so happy to say adios to garments as I was at that point. I wish I could say it’s been easy to replace what I donated to Goodwill, but that’s not the case. So I’ve bought exactly one pair of jeans and one shirt. Go figure.

Oh! I just had labs/tests done and I am so chuffed with the results. My HgA1C is 5. Considering I started out at 14 in October, 2020, and my last labs had me at 8. Woo hoo! Meds, diet, and exercise have paid off. My cholesterol — the LDL (think L = lousy/bad cholesterol) — wasn’t measurable back in 2020 because it was so high. At three months, I was at 150. At six, 95. At a year, 80-something. 18 months, 73. Now? 50. Squee!

I knew I was doing well, but these numbers blew my mind.

The other good news is that my kidney and liver function tests are remarkably improved post-Covid. Aaaaand, my heart seems to be working like it should, or at least, mostly. Pulmonary function has also improved a great deal. Overall, I’m pleased with this trend.

Slow and steady is the ticket.

I only wish I’d started down this road sooner.

What else?

I’ve heard incredible music, caught up with old friends, traveled a lot more in the past two months than I have in the last ten years (for doc appointments and for picking up/dropping off Crackerjack’s girls), seen beautiful things, and laughed a whole bunch. That’s pretty damn awesome, if you ask me.

My goal is to stay on my weightloss journey, find a doctor who will remove all the excess skin I suddenly find myself lugging around, and I want to continue seeing people I adore and go out for more live music. I’m also endeavoring to avoid any further bouts of illness that involves puking.

The hedgehogs have been arguing a lot lately. I’m not sure what they’re arguing about most of the time, but I know what tonight’s beef was: Spike pooed in their house and Ash was having none of it.

I arrived on the scene just as Ash was chasing Spike out and telling him to get lost. She was mad! Spike was squealing like he was snakebit, but it was just him being dramatic. He pushed back a couple times, to no avail. Ash is simply bigger and more assertive.

When Ash went for a nosh, Spike ran back in the house and tried to keep her from getting in. More squabbling, hissing, and skittering about. Guess who prevailed?

After an emergency counseling session (I’m charging double next time), they both returned home and snuggled in close.

Honestly, I wonder about them. Will true love prevail? Or will Spike’s predilection for shitting in their house, in their food bowls, ON their house tear them asunder?

Answers to these questions and more on the next episode of “Soap”.

Here’s to 2023 being kind, gentle, and generous to us all.

Except for assholes. They can sit together in the corner and fuck the Hell off.

Yep. That’s how I’ve chosen to start my year. I’m saying “NO!” to anyone who dares trying to darken this timeline for me. Might I suggest you try this approach as well? It’s incredibly freeing to start the year without negative people or their influence on your life.

In related news: I don’t know about you, but I’ve decided on keeping the receipt for this year…just in case. After the past few years? I think it’s the smart choice. I mean, we didn’t even get a trailer for this. We bought a ticket based solely on the director’s previous work. So hang on to your receipts, y’all. We may need them if we want a refund.

But, seriously, I truly hope 2023 treats us to a healthy, joyous, and loving year.

Hope your blessings are too numerous to count.

Note: I’m having major issues with the site and only just now was able to sign in. I’m working on it.

I’ve been all kinds of busy since my last post, or wiped out after being busy. Please forgive me.

I’ve also had a few problems with the site. Sometimes I can’t log on or when I do, I can’t write or edit. It makes trying to put words on the page more difficult and causes more of my hair thinning than anything else. Frustrating!

You may recall my previous posts about not being able to add photos since the latest “upgrade” from WordPress. That’s still very much an issue. I have, however, found a solution. A solution that lacks immediacy. Though a solution nonetheless.

With that in mind, Happy Halloween!

(Photos from previous posts about Halloween)

It’s been a minute since I did a proper Two-fer. Actually, I’m going with a four-pack. Please forgive me.

I’m going to share a couple of his songs I truly love — one or two most people aren’t so familiar with, but songs that I enjoy for a variety of reasons. I do hope you like them as much as I do.

Little Dude is 26 today.

I love you, kiddo!

That’s it. That’s the whole post.

This only happens once a year and we should all get as excited as these guys!

Happy 21st of September, y’all!

And because I’m all peppy now, here’s a bonus song from roughly the same era.

Does it seem to you like the attacks on America on September 11, 2001 happened 21 years ago? For me, it feels far more recent. Still, here we are 21 years later…

What have we learned since then? What have we forgotten? I can tell you right away what we’ve forgotten: unity. We are lacking unity. As a community; a collection of cities and states; as a country; as people…we’ve forgotten how to come together and hold each other up; how we can accomplish more together; how we’re stronger…together. We’ve forgotten how important our neighbors are and how even strangers can make a difference in our lives — for the better.

Never forget.

I am currently filled with hate. I’m not proud of this; it’s just a fact. A painful, loathesome fact.

We have mice.

We had mice in Texas. For the most part, they were never seen. Arizona mice, however, are everywhere. They rarely even run when they see us now. We’ve become their bitches.

I hate them.

We’ve released 7 into the wild, including a pinkie*. We’ve opted for humane traps, though I’m beginning to resent this as what they’re doing to us is akin to torture. I can’t even sit on the toilet in peace without the occasional mouse running over my slippered foot and then hiding on a shelf behind supplies. This is one of the only times these mice run upon contact with us. Apparently, they’re shocked to see us and get so discombobulated they scurry about. To that I say, “what the fuck did you expect? You’re in a HOUSE! People live in houses. Don’t like us? Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

We don’t set the cats or the snake out after the mice. 1.) The cats are healthy, well-fed, lazy, and don’t need to pick up anything that would be detrimental to Crackerjack’s or the baby’s health, and 2.) live rodents and captive snakes aren’t really a match made in heaven. In fact, live rodents can be dangerous for captive snakes. They can scratch or bite the snakes and that can lead to infections. Plus, I don’t know how we’d get Sneaky Snek back after she went on her rodent-seeking mission.

I’d post pics of the little shits, but I’m still experiencing issues with the “how” of it. Just trust me when I say the mice aren’t as cute as those found in children’s books or even those you see in the wild. To me, when I see mice indoors, all I see are vectors of disease and destruction. Hence, Get. Out.

*Pinkies are babies without fur.

Oh, Lord. I love Foy Vance. Soulful, expressive, and just generally excellent all around. But then again, what do you expect from an Irishman?

For once, I actually stuck to two videos. I encourage you to dig deeper, though, because there’s a plethora of great music to be heard. Foy Vance.

I started a post last night with music, but was too tired to follow through. Today yielded the exact same results.

The drive to San Diego was uneventful, save for a dust storm and a rain storm. The drive back was uneventful, save for the fact I left my fucking wallet in a bathroom stall at a travel stop attached to a casino. I didn’t realize it until we were already an hour away.

About 500 calls later, it hadn’t been turned in and I had to call to cancel my Visa debit card, my EBT card, and I still have an incredible amount of calls left to make. Insurance, DMV (again! And which has already proved to be nigh on impossible), social security, and I need to call about my birth certificate. I know the last two items shouldn’t have been in my wallet, but they were there for a reason. Also, my vaccination record was in there.

What really kills me is that the last note my mom ever wrote me was in the wallet. Photos of the kids. Ticket stubs from long ago concerts. Eighteen guitar picks I’ll never be able to replace. Things like that.

I know as time goes on, I’ll think of other items I’ll need to replace, but for now I’m just kicking myself each and every time I remember what happened. It’s the preferred option when compared to an accident or someone breaking into the car amd stealing all the things in there. We were lucky in that sense.

Exhausted by my own stupidity, I leave you with absolutely no music and 100% permission to laugh at my misfortune.

Until…um…next time, I guess.