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.