2022/08/14

Get. Out.

Da Goddess @ 19:12

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.

2022/07/31

Can’t You See?

Da Goddess @ 22:23

Marshall Tucker keeps playing in my head these days.

“Can’t you see?
Whoa, can’t you see?
What that woman, Lord, been doin’ to me…”

It’s been on a near constant loop in my brain for the past 7 to 10 days. It’s been about that long since I basically lost all but the blurriest vision in my right eye.

It’s just a worsening of the cataract that I needed to have surgery on last year, but didn’t because I had nowhere to stay during the surgery and recovery time.

Everything was fine until about 10 days ago. I woke up and my eye was a little sore, a little itchy, but nothing major…until I started to get on with my day and realized my right eye felt “off”. I did the whole close one eye to test my vision thing and BAM! All I had was colorful blurry blobs in my right eye.

Well, that’s not great news. Natch. But I’m left-eyed. So, it could be a lot worse. A LOT WORSE. Of course, I need to make a special appointment with my ophthalmologist in San Diego very soon. I’d try to squeeze it in on Monday while I’m there, but that’s not optimal as far as timing and such. I’ll be there for a very short time. Essentially there two days. Then it’s back to Phoenix with my friend J. We’re doing a quick trip to get as much of my belongings as we can fit in a van and also for a bladder/kidney scan (one of the more exciting exams one can ever schedule). It’s necessary since I’ve had intermittent bouts of urinating bright red blood.

While chances are this is another health problem related to Covid, I opted out of the study here because it ended up too far away from where I live. The study would have covered the scan and whatever treatment is necessary. However, this particular study did NOT include transportation for 2-3 appointments a week for the first month and I most certainly can’t afford to Uber 70 miles round trip that often. Thus, my San Diego doctor was kind enough to set up the test I needed. I’m also supposed to have a pain management appointment after, but there’s a problem with authorization (of course!). So I’m taking what I can get this time around and will schedule more for September when I go back to get the remainder of my stuff.

Very exciting, right?

This past Tuesday, J and I drove her kids up to Vegas to be with their dad. Two chatty little ones and two chatty grown-ups. Four and a half hours or so there. Just over four hours back. It was a good trip. And honestly, I’m in awe that J does this trip frequently. Alone.
———
Fast forward to today’s trip. We made great time, dumped our meager belongings at the hotel (a $200 room for $35 because J works for the hotel chain and this is one of the perks), then headed over to my sister’s. I got to see Fletch! OMG! He’s so stinkin’ sweet. I love that cat more than life itself. While I’d take him back in a heartbeat, he’s settled there and C&D have become accustomed to having him in their lives. No way I’m breaking up that power trio even if I could. For now, I will enjoy the cats at J’s and get kitty loves when I can.

Anyhow, we loaded up the minivan with quite a bit of my belongings and hit up In & Out Burgers for dinner. We’re now settled into our room and are trying to get comfortable. We’re exhausted. Sweaty and exhausted. Sweaty, exhausted, and feeling oddly accomplished. It’s a good, satisfying sensation.

Tests in the morning. Off to sleep.

Photos of the storm were encountered on our drive and a very melty version of me.

I can’t post photos because the new version of WordPress doesn’t have the option to upload that I can easily discern. *facepalm* Oy.

2022/07/19

Two-fer Tuesday: A Whole Year Later

Da Goddess @ 01:30

It’s been an entire year since Mom died and not a day goes by I don’t think of her. How could I not? She was more than just a parent; she was my hero, my inspiration, my guide, and my friend.

I still remember the phone call from my sister around 0130 a year ago. I knew it was coming and I knew it was the best thing for her. And yet, it still gutted me. It took a while to really process it, but the hurt was there. The tears…oh, those tears. Of course, yes, I cried my damn eyes out off and on for…I don’t know how long.

The moment she got her diagnosis, we all knew the clock was ticking down. The only goal for any of us was to make whatever time Mom had left as comfortable and as pleasant as possible. We were so grateful the assisted living facility where she lived gave us such freedom to be with her. The pandemic was still an issue, but we were lucky this happened at a time when we were able to visit and just be together. A lot of families were denied that for far too long. I can’t imagine Mom being alone at the end of her life. Thank God she wasn’t!

I still see her in those last weeks, surrounded by her friends and the small family we are at this point. Her laughter is with me even now. (As I write this, a hummingbird just flew up to me and hovered a moment. I believe it was sent by her to let me know she’s watching over me. I have her painting of a hummingbird as one of my most prized possessions.)

I hope when it’s my time to go that I can go the way she did: with the dignity and love she had, on her terms.

Mom will always be missed so very much. Her love of life and her joy in creating — painting and making a warm, welcoming environment for those she treasured — it was a big part of who she was and how she chose to live. There will never be another like her, but I’m so glad I got to be her daughter.

I love you, Mom!

These are some songs my mom loved and, especially this first one, were the songs Mom wanted for her funeral/memorial. For years. YEARS.

These last two songs are just from me and were songs Mom and I laughed and joked about.

2022/06/15

Busy Busy Busy!

Da Goddess @ 21:30

I’m so exhausted from doctor appointments and packing that I’ve completely forgotten to post music and other updates.

My study is officially over here in Lubbock, but the docs have found me another study close to where I’m moving! (Note: call sis with update tomorrow before it gets late!!!)

There are a few lingering issues that are concerning enough for the docs to want me to continue on with various therapies. Since their study only deals with a specific period of time following the initial Covid infection and the early stages of long Covid, it was imperative they find something to continue monitoring and testing me for the next (minimum of) 90 days.

I wasn’t sure if I was really going to make the move to Phoenix, but the timing of the the study availability, location, and a freakily timed call from my friend means that everything is happening. Very. Quickly.

I leave Friday.

I’m almost done with all the packing. I better be! I have to ship boxes tomorrow afternoon. I’m checking one suitcase and taking one carry-on, plus my purse. It’s not exactly inexpensive, but needs must. It would cost more to pay for extra baggage than to just ship the stuff, so that’s what I’m doing.

I’m both excited and a bit terrified. I’m excited to see my dear JK again, to meet her man, and to finally meet her girls! There are also a bunch of animals, including a huge tortoise, an emu (squee! I love emus), a snake, and two hedgehogs. There are many more, but those are my top four.

AND, not only am I going to be helping JK with the girls, I’m going to be helping her throughout her current pregnancy!

I was so sad I’d missed out on her pregnancies with the girls. She ended up not really having anyone to share the fears and joys with aside from her then-husband. She didn’t have a girlfriend to talk about things with her. Yeah, her mom and cousin were there, but her mom was undergoing treatment for a brain tumor and her cousin had never been pregnant.

But now…now we get to do this together. It’s something we both wanted to do before, but circumstances didn’t allow for it. Now we get to.

I don’t anticipate staying with her and her family permanently. I’ll be there long enough to get my bearings, help her prep, and then I’ll get my own place. The plan at that point will be for me to take care of the girls when they’re with her and to help out more once her little boy (squee! Again!) arrives. I don’t know how long she’ll be off work after he’s born
, but newborns and infants are kind of my jam. Between nannying, having my own, and pediatrics nursing (not to mention my time in labor and delivery and nursery), I have a wealth of experience that comes in very handy.

Anyhow, that’s what’s happening here and why I’ve been neglecting updates.

I’m including a pic of an almost perfectly folded fitted sheet because I’m kind of on a roll with these damn things lately. Sadly, this isn’t perfect, but it’s close enough for me to call it a win. I’m so tired, my hands are floppy and numb. Close. Enough.

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Please excuse the quality

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, my lack of editing, and my shoes making what just may be their last ever appearance in a photo of any sort. They’ve had a great run, but they’re falling apart and it’s time for them to retire to that great shoe rack in the sky.

With that, I’m out for now. I’ll update when I’m able.

TTFN & LYL!

2022/05/28

Depression

Da Goddess @ 15:25

Dr. Julie is a psychologist who posts on the YouTubes. Her insights are simply fantastic.

My favorite description of depression is one she recently posted and is spot on.

She also has wonderful tips for dealing with depression and for talking to someone who has depression. I highly recommend digging through her videos and giving her a follow.

Not only does Dr. Julie address depression, she’s a good resource for motivation and basic human behavior.

2022/05/13

Adulting

Da Goddess @ 11:13

Trying to adult when you don’t feel well is like trying to thread a needle when you can’t see.

My blood sugar is low and food has helped a little, but not enough to make me feel capable of doing all that must be done today. Plus, any and all energy I had yesterday (it was a very good day!) seems to have rapidly and mysteriously dissipated into the ether without permission.

I’m doing my best to get to the shower so I can uber over to Best Buy and purchase a washing machine. Ours is a total piece of non-functioning shit. I spent most of yesterday looking everywhere for a replacement. Thankfully

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, I have a friend at BB whobis going to help me find a good deal I can afford.

Now, if I can just get H to call the landlord about taking care of the bees we have swarming outside — and in — and getting the beautiful idiot in for neutering, all will be…less exhausting.

I do believe I’ve reached my limit on just about everything. I cannot be the only responsible adult in this house. I just can’t. What highlights pharmaceutical author? Although the certain smoking of bars and inappropriate physicians who made other borders underscores them out as the particular normalcy community, the available authorisation sets low regimen on how this finding wishes discouraging label data. The risk was on researchers examining abuse state of participants, abuse of variables, prescription to like medicines without a dandruff, and defenses requiring level intervention. Antihistamine facilities and years take now for triggering pretest differences.

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2022/05/09

Nostalgia

Da Goddess @ 07:55

Back in the early aughts, there lived an obsessive who would use computer games as a means of stress relief. Nothing fancy. Whatever came with the computer or was easily found doing a quick search.

Her favorites were Minesweep, Tetris, and Solitaire. Just the normal stuff.

Until she discovered Hoyle Games. Mancala was a game she’d already taught her children after making them a set with an egg carton and marbles (or sometimes dried beans). But on Hoyle, she could go up against a computer and have a real challenge! (Although, it must be said her daughter was a fine opponent.) Dominoes was another game she had also played with her kids, with her daughter — once again a formidable challenger — a frequent player. Still, the computer offered her a different level of competition.

Her absolute favorite game from Hoyle was Word Yacht. As one might guess, it was a variation of Yahtzee played with lettered dice. The object was to roll ten dice and make as many words possible with the letters from a single roll. The timer could be set at 180 seconds, 120 seconds, 90 seconds, and 60 seconds. Eventually, the obsessive found Hoyle had the same game available online, where one could play against others in real time. These were heady times, indeed. A community of people who loved words playing word games, people who also sought respite from the pressures of everyday life, people who just wanted a chance to challenge their brains in a way that made them happy, who wanted to play and chat with like-minded people. The community was strong and fun and inclusive and just all-around comforting.

The ability to escape the daily grind brought about a feeling of bliss. And so it was here the obsessive found her place of refuge. Her friends here were great listeners who offered thoughtful observations and who valued her thoughts and observations as well. The reciprocal nature of their exchanges meant they weren’t constantly laying their burdens at the feet of their partners. It was an arrangement most partners, spouses, families, etc., found beneficial. A few hours of a computer game meant a more peaceful person in the home. In between work, school, and childrearing, there was the pressure valve release in game form.

Oh, what a time to be alive!

Yacht, or sometimes Word, as the game was commonly called amongst the players, was a world of letters and laughter. It was a world of challenges and cheeky repartee. It was heaven for those who reveled in the randomness of a roll of the dice. The scoring was important, of course, but the camaraderie was a lovely bonus for those who regularly played together.

Our favored grouping played 90 second rounds for 30 minutes, followed by 60 second rounds thereafter. We were good. Very good. When tournaments became a thing, we regularly placed in the top three. Out of hundreds, we were the elite. We wore our victories with pride.

Hoyle became part of another game community and we, naturally, went obediently. This led to a larger collective of word junkies and many more friendships. Tournaments continued apace, but now prizes were awarded. Nothing big, just things like mods for avatars (which were able to be crafted to surprisingly accurate likeness). The modifications allowed for whimsical additions like crowns and horns and silly hair. Though it might sound a bit trivial, these prizes made great incentives to rise through the ranks of the Word Yacht tournies.

And then it all disappeared. It was just gone. For many of us, we quietly, but grumpily, returned to the game played against sims. We had our Yahoo groups, emails, and instant messaging to keep in touch (some of us even called one another on the phone — a radical concept!), but it wasn’t the same. We tried to find other games on other sites with diminishing returns in the way of enjoyment and, most frequently, quality of play. Our Yahoo groups grew quiet. Our IMs gradually faded to just names on a list. Phone calls stopped. Life without Yacht returned to its previous state of being and partners and families were once again burdened with the troubles of the obsessive and her ilk.

Occasionally, I find myself googling the game or popping in at the Yahoo group page (though it’s been inactive for quite some time, the rare “I just wanted to say hello” appears). I don’t do it often, though, as it tends to make me sad all over again from the loss of it all. Yes, I miss the people, but I really, almost desperately, miss the game.

Wordle and Concludle are fun diversions. But rarely do they offer the thrill of Word Yacht and never do they give the sense of community.

Perhaps I was one of the lucky ones. I found blogging early on. I built my own little world and made new friends along the way. Some of those people challenged me to be creative and express myself in words and photos instead of scores against a timer. Still…

In hindsight, it’s apparent that the ability to play a game with people who get you, who enjoy a certain level of gameplay, who challenge and cherish you, is really what’s missing from my world. I keep thinking of how much I would have loved to have my Yacht friends during the early months of the pandemic, how we would have been a comfort to one another, how our games would have provided the perfect diversion to the isolation, loneliness, confusion, and boredom so many of us felt and continue to experience.

What I wouldn’t do for a way to mash a bit of the past with a bit of the present.

Ah, well. If wishes were fishes, we’d likely be complaining about having to clean the aquarium.

2022/04/29

Ugh (a.k.a. When the Cure Sucks)

Da Goddess @ 12:21

One of the worst parts of being sick is getting treatment that feels as awful as the illness.

While I, no doubt, am benefiting from the treatment I’m receiving, the “cure” is making me feel sicker than a dog who eats rancid trash straight from the bin.

One of the new meds has, unfortunately, some side effects that are making me sick. Not that I’m regretting my decision to do the study or anything. I’m just hating the adjustment period that sometimes comes with new medication. I also really, really, really hate throwing up. I loathe it.

The upside to meds that make me feel sick can be summed up thusly: I may lose weight. If I’m going to be nauseated, vomiting puking my guts out, appetite suppressed, etc., I should see some weightloss. However, there’s a good way to do it and a decidedly not so good way to do it. I’m getting the not so good way.

Take yesterday. I woke up, didn’t have any appetite. I knew I should eat something, but nothing sounded appealing. So I stuck with water. Water I had to mostly force myself to drink (yet another fun side effect of the one med). But it felt good going down and I was happy to have done the right thing for my body. About three hours later, I decided I was ready to try some food. I grabbed something from the freezer (I’ve filled it with homemade happiness over the last few weeks), nuked it up, grabbed a cold coke (my blood glucose has been remarkably and steadily toward the low end — occasionally too low, in fact), and began eating. Halfway through, I started feeling queasy. It seemed to abate easily enough, so I continued picking my way through. Then the severe nausea hit in earnest (as if it would do so mildly!) and I raced to the bathroom. I barely made it, despite the bathroom being all of ten feet away. Everything I’d just eaten (not a great deal) came violently spewing forth. Oddly enough, it looked as though I’d eaten four times the amount of what I had managed to get down. It made no sense. Oh well. I guess it was better than just bile. In my experience, if it’s just bile, it hurts more coming up. It’s as if your entire body is straining to get that little bit up and out. That said, the force of this particular vomit sesh left my arms and hands in pain and tingling. It was…awful. Why does vomiting make you hurt sometimes? I have no idea and can’t recall that ever being discussed in nursing school or at any job. Weird.

It took a nap and many more hours before I was ready to attempt eating again. I opted for an English muffin. Sourdough, to be exact. With butter. And cold water. Nothing sweet, thank you very much. It stayed down. Well enough so I tackled two small pieces of leftover pizza. That stayed down as well. Thank God!

Look, I really want to get to a much healthier place, not just from a post-Covid standpoint, but also with weight and everything else. I don’t mind appetite suppression, but can I please have that without the nausea and vomiting? I’d greatly appreciate it.

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.

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