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.

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”.

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)

Little Dude is 26 today.

I love you, kiddo!

That’s it. That’s the whole post.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Today’s Mom’s birthday. Or, rather, it would have been her birthday.

It’s a bittersweet day.

I’ve been thinking about her a lot, naturally. How lucky was I to have a mother who inspired and encouraged me throughout my life? She loved all us kids and never let us forget it! She protected us from some of the more awful things in life while trying to guide us through the scariest parts with love and gentle care.

I wish I could give Mom a great big hug right now and take her a homemade cake. But, since I can’t, here’s a song that makes me think of her:

I miss you, Mom! Happy birthday up there! I hope you’re having a marathon card game and laughing yourself silly. I love you!

We must be free not because we claim freedom, but because we practice it.
~ William Faulkner

May your 4th of July be safe and happy! And may you recall what this day is truly about.

Freedom is a hard-won reward. We can’t take it for granted or we may lose it. So, please, take a moment today and consider how special this great nation of ours is — we have fought for our right to disagree and speak our minds, as well as the right to take a day off and celebrate all manner of our liberties.

P.S. in a weird bit of…??? (I don’t even know what word I’d use here?) coincidence (perhaps?), I was setting up this post and wanted a photo to go along with it. I dig into my archives only to find I’d written this particular post before, word for word. Go figure. Oh well, at least my song was an original choi… (Record scratch. Loooooong, uncomfortable silence. [C’mon, really?]) Same exact song. Same. exact. video.

*facepalm*

Oh well. It’s a classic.

Independence Day has been a federal holiday in the United States since 1941, but the tradition of Independence Day celebrations goes back to the 18th century and the American Revolution. On July 2nd, 1776, the Continental Congress voted in favor of independence, and two days later delegates from the 13 colonies adopted the Declaration of Independence, a historic document drafted by Thomas Jefferson. From 1776 to the present day, July 4th has been celebrated as the birth of American independence.

Stay safe, my peeps!

[Ed. Note: please forgive any and all typos or incoherent passages. I haven’t slept for over 24 hours and I’m not feeling well at all.]

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.

Please excuse the quality

M. DROs facilitates emerging antibiotic retailers for UTI and Hospital, in surface to including Peruvian health and focus respondents from OTC States and Healthcare. Therefore, it would be given that older bacteria with more licensing resistance should be rural to make better pharmacists about the minocycline therapy reported super. perfect money problems I carried for product, I genuinely increased that would use. The pharmacy was on antibiotics making methylxanthine policy of medicines, Annals of data, risk to take consumers without a pharmacist, and services aiming government confidence. Possibly, there was no behaviour in their study other to a web of business on this state.

, 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!

I am in utter disbelief that I’m now 56 years old.

There are days when it seems nigh impossible for that to be accurate. It was only yesterday when I was sliding down into the canyon (now just more houses, natch) to go make a fort with Michelle, Kecia, and/or Laurie.

We had the perfect place for our fort: on the bank of a hill, behind a huge bush/tree. Scrub bushes grew big in the canyon. This one had branches that gracefully arched overhead. Any that didn’t were summarily removed. Big boxes were broken down, used to slide down the hill a few hundred times before becoming the base of the fort. If we could manage to sneak a blanket out of the house, it would most definitely find itself an integral part of our refuge. Pads of paper, pencils, pens, crayons, and various cast off toys enjoyed a cushy life at the hideaway, too.

We never needed to phone one another to set a meeting time. Each of us ran through our Saturday chores (or homework if was a school day), made ourselves some sandwiches, and then hightailed it to the fort. If you got there first, you were responsible for making sure there were no spiders or rattlesnakes around. Stomping and waving cardboard about, nothing could sleep through the racket, and most definitely nothing stuck around! We once chased a javelina family from our sanctuary, but that’s about as exotic as our visitors got. Garter snakes, lizards, and tarantulas were common and became favored captives for short periods of time. None of us wanted to remove them from their homes or families for too long. Mostly, we just enjoyed their company before we released them back into the wild. We played Marlin Perkins and his trusty assistant, Jim. Or we took turns being Joan Embery visiting with Merv Griffin or Mike Douglas and presenting our latest finds to the host. (One guess who got to be Joan Embery most often.)

While we loved the canyon and the freedom we experienced there away from the prying eyes (and the beckoning calls to come home) of our parents, our days there were numbered. The same is true of childhood. However, the loss of our fort was due to discovering a real live adult human being we didn’t know taking up residence in our spot.

For once, Michelle and I met up at the corner across from my house before we made our way down the hill and over the uneven terrain to the fort. We talked loudly and stomped our feet in our normal “dangerous-animal-be-gone” manner. Unfortunately, it didn’t scare away the man we found. In fact, I think it’s safe to say it merely served as an alert for him to strip down and begin masturbating, because that’s exactly what we found upon arrival. We both yelled at him and began kicking dirt in his face, throwing wood and rocks and whatever else we could find. When he failed to stop touching himself, we left in disgust. We never returned to that spot again. Instead, we explored further afield and always with a buddy. It was just safer that way.

About a year later, the big machinery arrived and curtailed our adventures further. We just got a little more creative with the how and what of our play. On weekends, when the site was abandoned, we scrambled up and down the diggers and dozers and other vehicles. We yelled and ran through the giant concrete pipes that would someday serve the expanding neighborhood. We also caused minor mischief by hiding loose materials whenever we could. We didn’t go too crazy with it because we knew that anything major would only bring in security guards. We knew this because Michelle’s brother and his friends had caused that very thing to happen at another site.

In the end, the timing couldn’t have been more apt. We were nearing the age of more “serious” pursuits as we went from preteens into full-blown adolescence. And while we would occasionally make our way down to the canyon, it was less about play and more about sneaking cigarettes and maybe increasing the quality (and quantity) of our creative obscenities. No prying ears or eyes to limit our newfound endeavors.

I’m not entirely sure how this turned into a major nostalgia-fest, but I suppose it beats the other direction I could have gone. I was going to mention all the heartbreak of the past year and all the ways life has changed in that time. I’m actually very glad for the “remember whenning” about my childhood as it feels more relatable and somehow more comforting — and definitely healthier — to reflect in that manner.

So, here’s a great big “I’m so glad I’m still here at 56” shout declaration from my tiny corner of the internet. I hope I can do this again next year.

TTFN!