Yep. It’s that time of year again. I post twice in one week and celebrate things that matter mostly only to me. Okay. Fine. Everything I post falls into that category. I’m okay with that. I’m pretty much okay with everything these days. Except with the government. I hate that.
It’s so strange to say, “I’m 59.” Not that many people ask. But it does happen on occasion. Spending time with kids, I’ve learned to embrace my age. As Popeye said, “I am what I am.”
So, as I begin the next step of my journey, I’m going to continue on as I began: being me.
I’ve been at this blogging thing for 23 years as of today. I originally began blathering on about Zach Galifianakis, nursing, illness, politics, and kids. I haven’t blogged about 3/5 of those in a long time. I also used to do a lot more creative writing*.
LD is off living in the middle of the country. A manager at a specialized footwear company. Mojo is in the process of yet another move because military life requires it. Both kids are safe and happy and that’s everything I could ever want for my babies.
Nursing hasn’t been a subject because it’s been such a long time since I’ve actually been a nurse. I still miss it. I read my articles. I take the free CEU courses just to keep my mind active. I was a caregiver for GmaB and that was a wonderful experience that filled my heart and soul in ways I didn’t know I needed. But actual nursing in a hospital setting was a lifetime ago. And I miss it.
Zach. Wow. He’s been a busy man over the years! His turn Chip Baskets alone was enough to cement him in some acting hall of fame.
Politics have been mostly focused on the current climate, which is disappointing on every front. I’ve stated in previous posts how this regime has used its power to dismantle much of what has always truly made America great and how it’s turning America into the laughing stock of the world, complete with backing Russia (c’mon, it’s hard to ignore trump’s attempts to curry favor with all the wrong people for all the wrong reasons) and other despotic countries. Even today, we watch as a former reality star seeks ways to enrich himself as the reelected president while simultaneously stripping everyone who isn’t a millionaire or billionaire of the services for which we’ve paid taxes. He’s currently striking deals in the Middle East that will earn him and his family’s businesses unlimited returns in financial form. He previously spoke of Qatar in less than flattering terms:
U.S. relations with Doha have come a long way since 2017, when Trump accused Qatar of harboring terrorism: “The nation of Qatar, unfortunately, has historically been a funder of terrorism at a very high level,” Trump said at the time. — via Fox News
The only thing that’s changed for trump since then, frankly, is the money. Qatar wants to buy a ton of jets, and they’ve offered to gift a jet in their current fleet to trump. No quid pro quo there, right? The whole thing reeks of it.
Okay, I’m done talking about the orange pretender. This is supposed to be a celebratory post.
Health is healthing as per usual. Ever since the middle of March, my left shoulder has been growing progressively more painful, has decreased range of motion, and has increasing weakness. Putting on or taking off my bra is impossible unless I sling it around my waist, do up the clasps in front, spin the bra around to the back, gingerly thread my arm into it, and then sliding up the straps. If only I could do that with my shirts! As well, shampooing my hair is so painful, I do my best to cry in the shower and hope hot water loosens up the joint enough to help me dry off and get dressed. The rest of the time, I just hope and pray for the best. What else can you do?
So, here it is, twenty-three years after I started this thing. I’m still here in some capacity. Each year, I vow (at least to myself) to try harder to post more. I don’t feel bad when I fall short. Not anymore. Life is too full of other things.
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.
———
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.
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.
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.
Epenthesis and Anaptyxis walked into a bar and confused the hell out of everyone.
This week’s new words are wonderful. Simply wonderful. Or should I say they’re “wonderaful”?
Epenthesis (eh-penth-e-sis) is the adding of a vowel or sound to a word in order to facilitate pronunciation. Like “es-top” or “stop-e(h)”. Or “bu-lue”.
More spectacularly, the addition of the vowel in epenthesis has a specific name: (you guessed it!) anaptyxis (an-app-tu-sis). Think of Yogi Bear telling BooBoo he’s going to get that “pic-a-nic” basket. That’s epenthesis and anaptyxis in action.
What’s even more fun is when Epenthesis and Anaptyxis are out drinking and they run into and are mesmerized by Paragoge. Paragoge also goes by the name Proparalepsis. (Can you tell I love this stuff?)
Paragoge/Proparalepsis “refers to the annexing of an expletive syllable”. In some cases, you can think of it as a nickname for words and, (ed: er…um…) names. Like “Johnny, for John;” “deary, for dear;” “withouten, for without.” (ed: Or my personal favorite “broughten, for brought.”)
When someone asks me “what kind of weirdo are you?” I’m the kind of weirdo who loves this shit. And that’s the honest to God truth. I’m also just a huge ol’ word nerd.
Stay tuned for more words I’ve encountered which have charmed and enchanted me. I have a list. Yeah, an actual list.
Feel free to share words of your own in the comments section.
Silly thing for a mom of two to write, but hear me out.
Craig Ferguson took my virginity. True. Fucking. Story.
October 7, 2023, is a day that will live in infamy for it was the day I finally got to go see Craig Ferguson on tour with his stand-up act. Not only that, but I met him, got a hug, he touched one of my tattoos (neener neener, wouldn’t you like to know which one!), and…and…and…it was all perfection. Mostly.
Yes, I’d been to tapings of his show many times over his ten year run as host of The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson. Yes, I’d been mere feet away from him. Yes, I laughed myself silly. But I hadn’t seen his stand-up show before.
I’d envied those I knew who had been many, Many, MANY times. They had met him. They got their picture taken with him. They…touched…him. I was happy for those people. But I stewed in my own bitter juices of jealousy in private. I feared I’d never get my moment with THE GREATEST, FUNNIEST, AND MOST HANDSOME SCOTTISH LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW HOST AND COMEDIAN IN THE WORLD. But I did. It happened. And now my life is (mostly) complete. I say “(mostly) complete” because there was just one teeny weeny little problem with our conversation (okay, two teeny weeny little problems) (maybe three teeny weeny little problems, but definitely not more than three). Main problem the first: I’d forgotten to ask if he remembered a sketch from the show where a particular name was used. Why would it matter almost 20 years later? Because I was author of that name! Well, the author of half the name. And I wanted him to sign one of his books for me using that name. Big problem the second: I forgot to bring the book. Don’t look at me in that tone of voice! I know what I did and I know how stupid that was. Look, it’d already been a very long, hot day full of emotion* before I even left to make the journey out to the middle of nowhere to see him. I couldn’t possibly be expected to remember VERY IMPORTANT items I almost desperately wanted signed by THE GREATEST, FUNNIEST, AND MOST HANDSOME SCOTTISH LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW HOST AND COMEDIAN IN THE WORLD! It’s like you don’t know me at all, people! Have you fallen so out of love with me your blog reading that you’ve forgotten all my (very) charming (and occasionally frustrating) quirks?
Le sigh.
I’m disappointed enough in myself, I don’t need your help in that department.
Problem the third: I also forgot to ask about his kids. Oh, the stories he told about his kids! So funny! So absolutely charming! So clever! The only kids I knew who were as funny and charming and clever as his kids were mine. Truly. I wanted to know if they continued to be funny, charming, and clever…like mine. Because: parents. IYKYK, right? Right.
All said and done, it was a beautiful day punctuated with the most magical evening of laughter and absolute joy. If I ever figure out how to post photos here again, I’ll post the pic of me beside THE GREATEST, FUNNIEST, AND MOST HANDSOME SCOTTISH LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW HOST AND COMEDIAN IN THE WORLD. And you will once more envy my glamorous life. (Glamorous in that I had one night away from GmaB and the farm, but it still counts!)
And that’s the story of how Craig Ferguson took my virginity.
* My best friend got married and I photographed her wedding. She was completely stunning! She looked so happy! And the latter part is and was the most important part of the equation. I really want her to be happy.
Dragonflies have always fascinated me. They’re so dainty and delicate in appearance, but they’re tough and rid the world of pests. Dragonflies symbolize good luck, prosperity, and new beginnings. Funny that. When I got my first tattoo, I chose dragonflies and got the tattoo as I was starting divorce proceedings. I must’ve sussed the meaning before I actually learned this bit of trivia.
Today, GmaB and I watched dragonflies flit about and then, miraculously, watched as one began to lay eggs. Sadly, those eggs will come to nought as the chosen site isn’t next to water. I may have to find a way to put water just below the eggs and then relocate the nymphs once they emerge. (I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m just winging it…hehee…winging it. Wing-ing. Wing. Dragonfly. And…)
I needed beauty in my life today. I’ve been feeling rather emotional the last couple days and our dragonflies brought me beauty by the bushel. Now, I must go so I can weep silently in the kitchen.
I know enough to know I don’t know much. Because of this, I like to learn something new as frequently aspossible– if not every day.
Today I learned a large portion of Anheuser-Busch beers are partially made with rice. I mean, what?!? So, I did a little research (because I’m like that) and found the reason for this is the fermentable sugar at lower temperatures in rice (most likely short-grain white rice). It’s less expensive than barley, too. Using rice also produces a smoother flavor with less bitterness.
And, according to the three different articles I read (I limited the number of clicks because I refused to go down the rabbit hole today), sake is beer. I always thought it was wine. How have I lived 57 years and only just found out this information? Well, of course this meant I had to look into it. Wikipedia claims sake is…not really either. That’s backed up by sake-specific sites. It’s an “alcoholic beverage” with a brewing process different from beer AND wine.
It was around this time my head exploded. Sorry, brain. One too many facts, I guess.
Now that I’ve muddled my brain, I hope you find yours also sufficiently muddled. And speaking of muddling… No, no, no! I’m not going there. I’m going to have a look at what GmaB might want for dinner.
