A WEIGHTY ISSUE

So here's the thing...and it's not a thing I think I'd normally talk about, but I'm nervous and talking about it helps a bit.

In December, I am going to have surgery! Don't worry, I'm not sick or anything! This is a completely elective sort of thing that I've been considering for almost a year. What kind of surgery is this, you may ask? 

I am going to have a vertical gastric sleeve surgery. It's a weight loss surgery. A doctor is going to poke some holes in my abdomen, remove part of my stomach, and then sew it all back up! This will limit the amount of food I can eat and, therefore, aid in weight loss. I have to make permanent changes in my eating habits after this surgery and take vitamin supplements and a myriad of other things, but ultimately, if I do it all right, I will lose weight and get healthier! Fingers crossed!

Look, y'all, I'm going to be just as blunt as I can be. I'm very overweight. Almost 100 pounds overweight, according to the BMI chart. That is not only unfortunate, ugly, and embarrassing, it is dangerous. I've tried all manner of things to lose it in the past, and for the most part I've had spells of being successful. I've been able to lose about 40 pounds at a time, three times, before gaining it back. Of course, the first two times I tried to lose weight, I had the help of pharmaceutical grade amphetamines (not great for the heart or anxiety issues) and the third time I was in a medically controlled fasting weight loss program that I hated so much that I was in a state of hungry misery for 6 months and that particular program was apparently my body's last straw. I was only able to maintain that weight loss for about 7 months before I ended up gaining twice the weight I lost. For the past three years, I've been steadily gaining weight, hating the way I look, not wanting to go out in public, being embarrassed every time I see a photo of myself, noticing a distinct strain on my joints and nerves, and not being able to find clothes that fit. Also, I'm beginning to worry about my heath in general. As of my last check-up, I'm still in general good health, but borderline on some of the things that will cause very bad health down the line if I don't do something drastic. Surgery was not my first choice to fix these problems, but it has become the choice I'm making for myself because I'm not sure what else to do.

You're probably thinking to yourself, why TF are you going to have surgery for something like that? Can't you just get out and run and eat less and go to the gym like a normal person? Well, apparently not. Or at least, not in a way that is helpful. I've mentioned before that I have spine problems. My bones are wearing down. I don't think that has anything to do with my weight (I mean, it might, but I don't think so) but it hurts, you guys. It hurts all the time. When I work out, in any way, it gets worse. I can't lift weights, I can't run, and even walking long distances or being on a stationary bike makes me hurt so badly that it causes nerve pain that almost drives me crazy. I know that I'll have to exercise after having this surgery, but I'm hoping that when I don't weigh so much, maybe my back won't hurt as bad. As for the eating less? I'm an emotional binge eater. I always have been. I use food as a crutch. It was hard to come to that conclusion, but I sometimes don't have any conscious control over myself when I eat. I hate that about myself, but as I've gotten older, I've been able to control it less. If I physically control what I can have and the amount of it I can have at a time, then hopefully that will help.

I might still have not decided to go this route, but my coworker had it and has had great results. Granted, it hasn't always been smooth sailing, but big life changes usually aren't easy. Before I committed to the surgery, I tried once more to lose it on my own, but I only gained more weight. So I talked to my doctor and this is where I landed.

Is this surgery foolproof? No. If I'm not careful, I could end up right back where I am right now. The surgery is just a tool to help me. I have to be more careful than ever to make sure I eat better and exercise more, but I'll have a better chance of succeeding with this surgery. I need something drastic to kick me in the butt and make me take control of things, which I hope this will do.

Am I scared? As fuck. Weirdly, I'm not afraid of the surgery, or even the life changes afterward. What I'm scared of is the complications that can happen. Any surgery can have complications, as you know, and for some reason I keep scaring myself by thinking of the absolute worst outcomes. During the day, it all seems silly, but at night, I'll scare myself to death thinking of all the things that could go wrong. Obviously, that is normal, but the fact that I'm so nervous makes it all worse somehow. Also, I'm (and this is the really crazy thing) scared that I'm going to chicken out of this. I desperately don't want to do that. As I said, I didn't come to this decision lightly or uninformed. I'm choosing to do this. So why am I so scared that I'm going to back out? It doesn't make sense. It seems normal to worry that I'll die, but it seems weird to be worried that I won't go through with it at all. I hate the way my brain works sometimes.

So that is what is going on with me. I'd appreciate any good vibes or prayers or whatever you could send my way. I'm ready to do something to help myself. The surgery sounds worse than it actually is, as far as I know, and the doctor I'm going to is supposed to be one of the best in the state. Just keep your fingers crossed for me, please!

MY PLACE IN THIS WORLD?

I fell down in a parking lot last Friday.

I'd love to say there was a long and hilarious story about what happened, but there isn't really. I was running errands and not having a great time doing it! 

It all started when I left the house to do the afore mentioned errands. I was having one of those days where everything was just a touch off track, and nothing was going the way I'd hoped it would. I had important things to do and I just kept getting more and more frustrated as time went on because nothing was going right. I decided that my last stop would be the cookie shop, because damnit, I deserved a cookie after all the frustrations. 

Thankfully no cookies were harmed in the fall! I had put them in the passenger seat and was walking back around the car when I twisted my ankle and went down really hard. I caught myself on my hands, but my right knee still hit the asphalt pretty hard. I hit, rolled, and then got up as quickly as I could and got into the car. If the people outside of the shops were watching, I assume the video will be up on Tik Tok in a few days.

I sat in the car for a while, making sure I was actually OK and not just surfing on adrenaline. I hurt, oh yes, I hurt, but nothing seemed broken. My knee and the palms of my hands were shredded, though. It looked like someone had taken a cheese grater to them, but only my knee was bleeding a lot. My ankle was sprained, but not terribly, and my wrists were jammed. Thankfully nothing was broken beyond repair except maybe my pride.

So I did what anyone else in my position would have done. I sat in my car and screamed for a minute. It didn't help my body, but my brain felt a bit better.

I got home and cleaned myself up. I'll give Steve some credit, he did manage not to laugh out loud until he found out I wasn't badly hurt, although I did see him struggle. Hehe. Later on, he came and strapped my bike helmet onto my head in case I tried walking again and fell down. It was probably a good idea!

I'm mostly fine now. The knee has scabbed, my hands look better, my wrists no longer hurt. My ankle is still sprained, though, but I don't have to wear a wrap or anything. Mainly I just slightly limp until I work out the bugs. My body still hurts kind of a lot from hitting the ground, though. I assume the shock wave traveled through my bones and sent nerve tsunamis here and there, but that will pass. What I'm amazed at most is just how many places hit the ground when you fall. We've had many of our elderly church members fall, and when they come back to church, they are covered in bruises. I never understood why they were so beat up until I fell this weekend. At least I have enough fat to protect most of my body, so maybe that's why I don't look worse! 

Here is the weird thing, in my opinion. This is the third time I've fallen in a parking lot (all because of the same stupid ankle twisting, FYI.) I fell in a Home Depot parking lot, I've fallen in a COSTCO parking lot, and now the parking lot of a strip mall. Is that not a ridiculous amount of falling downs? Especially falling downs in parking lots? Wearing different shoes each time? After I had time to think about it, I realized I've never seen anyone else falling down in a parking lot. Just me. Three times. It seems statistically very unusual, doesn't it? 

Is this my job on earth, then? Am I one of the designated People Who Fall Down In Parking Lots? I assume we all have some kind of purpose in this life, so do I keep balance in the force by occasionally twisting my ankle and eating asphalt? Does my clumsiness keep an old lady from falling down and breaking a hip, or a kid from falling down and getting road rash while leaving the grocery store?

If so...this is some bullshit. I was always hoping I had some kind of purpose in the universe, but if this is my designation, I'm going to write a strongly worded letter to someone. And I'm gonna use curse words.

WHAT CAN YOU DO?

Yesterday I got some news that completely threw me for a loop.

It's weird to say that, because the news didn't have anything to do with me, or any of my family, or even any of my close friends, but a loop was still thrown.

A couple of my classmates from high school lost their teenage daughter to suicide yesterday. 

I'm not going to overemphasize my connection with this family, as I have neither seen nor talked to them in 25 years or so, but somehow that doesn't really matter. When something like this happens, it doesn't feel like a thing you can separate yourself from by a span of years or degrees of separation. My heart is broken for them.

Since I don't live in Athens anymore, I didn't know this had happened until yesterday evening. When you live out there, this kind of news just seems to come to you by osmosis, but I got added to a Facebook Messenger group for people in my graduating class with no idea why. Even then, no one said what actually happened. The only info is that two of our classmates had lost their daughter, and they wanted us to gather money to send flowers to the funeral. That is tragic enough, to be sure, but people in our graduating class have lost family members before without this kind of pulling together. I don't know if it was morbid curiosity on my part that made me look into it further, or just that nagging feeling that some important piece of the puzzle wasn't in place, but I sent a private message to one of the people I've managed to keep in touch with beyond just Facebook-friend level and asked him what had happened. He didn't know details, but only the fact that she had ended her own life. I didn't need to know more than that.

I'm at a disadvantage, in a way, because I don't have children. I can't fully empathize with how her parents feel because I've never had the same kind of relationship with a child. Granted, I don't think I need to know exactly how they feel to be stricken by this news, but it also makes me feel so helpless for them.

I don't think there is any way to know how to deal with something like this. Obviously, I'm not in any position to do anything for them personally because we haven't been in touch since we were teenagers, but there is this knee jerk reaction to want to help somehow. I can donate money for flowers and food, of course, but that seems like such a small thing. Maybe that's all I can do, but man, that doesn't feel like enough. It's weird how strongly this has affected me, seeing that I only know of this girl through photographs. I couldn't get it out of my head all night and I wish so much this hadn't happened.

I ache for the parents, my former classmates, because I can't even come close to knowing the pain they must be feeling for the loss of their daughter. I feel for the siblings, who are much younger, because I'm sure they don't understand what is going on. Mostly, though, I feel for the 16 year old girl who didn't think there was any other way she could get through her problems. 

So, if you have a spare prayer, or vibe, or thought, or whatever it is you do, please think about sending them towards this family who has had to start a new, and terribly sad, phase of their life. Also, if you or anyone you know is feeling helpless or suicidal, please know there are people who can help. If you don't think you can talk to your family or friends, please contact the National Suicide Prevention hotline at 1-800-273-8255 for help. 

DOOM? MAYBE A LITTLE DOOM.

Do you ever feel like something bad is about to happen, but you don't know what?

I've had this feeling for about a week and a half, but I can't pin point it and it's making me feel kind of crazy.

Obviously bad things are happening all over the world right now, but how I feel doesn't feel like a universally bad thing, but a personally bad thing. You know?

I suppose bad is really subjective here. Lots of things could be considered bad. Maybe it's not a big bad, but just a little bad. Ugh, I don't know. I just know I feel like there is a hand on the nape of my neck and its pushing down on me. I'm tense because it might either let go and slap me or keep on pushing me right down into the ground until I'm buried. 

I want to be prepared, so I can handle whatever it is, but I have a feeling I will not be prepared and whatever it is, I'm pretty sure I'll be on my own with it.

It's very weird and I hate it.

But hey...we'll see!

HAMLET DIDN'T SAY THAT

Last night we went to The Ledges to play trivia again. 

(Hmmm...that isn't quite the opening sentence to a Daphne du Maurier novel, but very close.)

*Freeze Frame*

Lemme stop and give you a bit of background on why we were allowed inside. We actually joined what I suppose you can call a country club (maybe? That sounds really posh, but I don't know what else to call it) last year before things went completely to hell. If it isn't a country club, it's at least a fancy golf course with a fancy building attached. We are, of course, not golf members of this place. Not only do we not play golf, we don't have the funds to be full-fledged golf members there. I'm sorry if it's tacky to tell you we aren't millionaires, or even hundreds-of-thousandaires but if that's tacky, then I have to be tacky. 

Anyways. We are what you call Social Members, which means we are members enough to go to events there and we can eat in the fancy dining room. It's the lowest level of membership, so we're kind of like the white trash of the country club set up, if you will. We actually joined because a couple of times a month or so, they have spirit tastings, which are a lot of fun! They let you taste four different kinds of something or other, like Scotch, bourbon, tequila, and etc, and the chef makes food to match each one. It's more of a social thing, but the food is good and we've met lots of nice people. If you'd ever told me I'd go to something like that, I'd have told you to shut your whore mouth, because no I wouldn't. But...here we are.

*Unfreeze*

So one of the events they've been having since restrictions have been lessened has been a once-a-month trivia night. One of the local trivia groups comes to provide the game, we eat and play and it's just fun. I love playing trivia, even if I'm not great at it. As you know, Steve, Anthony and I have been playing trivia together for a few years and Anthony knows many things. Basically, unless it's Star Wars trivia, Anthony knows most of everything, I write the cards because I have the best hand writing and I know pop culture, and Steve sits around looking pretty and giving us answers about science and engineering. We're a good team, though, because we each fill a void. We also have others who play with us occasionally. We've been to this particular trivia night three times and we've come in first each time!

But I give you all of that copious, unnecessary information to tell you about my proudest moment in my personal trivia history. We were on the last round, which was general trivia (each of the other sections had been themed) and the question was something along the lines of "Who spoke the line 'To thine own self be true' in the Shakespeare play Hamlet." I knew the answer was Polonius, Actually, I originally said Felonious, as in Felonious Monk, but realized before we submitted that it was Polonius.

You'd think I'd know Shakespeare. Why? Because I seem like an ex theater kid. Also, I used to be pretentious and read Shakespeare's plays while in high school because it made me look smart. I've been out of school for 25 years so I can admit that now! But in all honesty, I didn't retain one damn bit of Shakespeare because I didn't understand much of it. I knew the answer because of this:

I'd like to thank the gay guy I dated in high school for introducing me to this movie so that I could one day help bring my team to another trivia victory! I have no idea why this scene stuck with me, but I'm glad it did.

I don't know why this tickled me enough for me to tell you about it, but I couldn't help it. I learned Shakespeare through Alicia Silverstone, in a movie based on a Jane Austen novel. If that isn't the most 90s thing I've ever said, I don't know what would be.

OH, WELL

I was just sitting here at work thinking about a blog entry a few spots down where I had three things I couldn't remember that I wanted to talk about. I suddenly got excited, because I remembered one of them! 

I was going to come here and write about it! I was so excited because I just don't have that much to write about on this blog lately and I've been missing it, and I finally had something to say! HUZZAH!

Turns out, I already remembered it. It was the thing about the drugs. 

Sigh. 

Hopefully I'll have something else to blog about again soon. I miss the blogging. I miss people reading my blog. 

Now I've said blog too much and it doesn't look like a word anymore.

Seriously, NOTHING interesting is going on around here! I hope your life is much more exciting. :)

Till next time!

ANOTHER RANDOM ACT OF BLOGGING

1) Forgive me for my language, but is has anyone else reached the "Fuck It" level about the corona virus resurgence and everything surrounding it?

Please don't misunderstand me, I wish it wasn't happening. I care very much that people are needlessly dying of a fecking disease that has a fecking vaccine, but they keep getting sick because they would rather die or make other people sick than do something that would help. I'd be glad to go back to masks and things like that for a while if it meant the virus could calm down again. 

But, I mean...how much outrage can a person have? I don't know about you, but I don't have a never ending well of anger inside of me that I can just keep dipping out of. Am I mad about it? Of course! But can I dredge up the strength and angst to keep harping on it? I simply cannot. I've used it all up. My Give-a-Damn is broken.

We do not live in medieval times anymore. Vaccines are not witchcraft. Smart people have studied germs and people have worked tirelessly to come up with a medicine that will keep folks from getting sick. People will feel a cold coming on and stay home from work or church, or whatever, but for some reason a highly contagious, potentially fatal (for some people, at least) virus is out there, and it's all "Screw you guys, I'm not going to let anyone make me take medicine! How dare they want to protect my life? I'm going to do my own research, even though that means only reading websites that agree with me and my own uneducated opinion." I'm not even advocating for people to get forced to get vaccines, I just want people to be smart enough to decide to get them on their own!

I'm wrung out, y'all. I am so tired, and so disappointed, and so discouraged. Everything has turned to boogers and I don't even have the strength to be angry about it anymore. All I can do it shrug and hope for the best. I'm just so TIRED of all of it. Does anyone else feel like this? 

 2) Enough of that. No more sturm and drang!

OOOOH! Speaking of sturm and drang, I'm still pecking away at my Duolingo German lessons! I have been at it for almost 660 days, more or less. You know what? I still don't know very much German! Heehee.

I know some of the basics, but there are so many words that look the same to me that I have trouble remembering how most of the more abstract words translate. Like, I can ask for water, or tell you I'm tired, to ask where the bedroom is and all of that, but even though I've gotten to at least level three on every section of the German lessons, I'm still kind of clueless about the more complex stuff. Also, I can only read German. If anyone speaks it at me, I get lost, and all I can think to say is that I'm not a banana! One of the big problems is that I'm learning on my own from scratch, and there is no one to converse with. The other big problem is that Duolingo wants very badly for you to pay them, even if they lie and say that they want to make the lessons available to everyone. Technically that's true, but on the app, they only give you 5 tries before you're cut off from your new lessons. There are things you can do to get more chances (hearts, if you will) but it's frustrating to be struggling with something and then they want you to watch a series of ads, or have to go back and do old lessons to get more chances. I get that the people who created the app need to get paid, but dang, y'all. If you're playing an ad every time I finish a level, you'd think someone, somewhere, is getting paid.

Anyway, I may know enough not to get thrown in jail when we go to Germany next year, but otherwise, please don't rely on me to give a speech or anything at the yearly Oktoberfest! That sucks, because I wanted to learn enough to give angry sounding monologues in German when people at Target pissed me off. 

3) There was a memorial service for Sara yesterday that was held by her sorority sisters. They invited me, but I couldn't go. I wanted to. I thought I could. But I ultimately just couldn't.

Number one, I don't like to emote in public, and I would have emoted all over the place. I'd rather stab myself in the thigh and endure the pain and wait for the emotions to pass, but that is, allegedly, a weird thing to do. Could I have taken my anti-anxiety drugs and gone anyway? Sure, but I would have fallen asleep during and that would have been rude. Secondly, they were her sorority sisters. They had a relationship with her that I didn't share. I don't know what it's like to be in a sorority, but I imagine it's a very close and particular thing and they all had memories with her that I wouldn't have shared. I would have felt very out of place and I'm afraid I would have gotten awkward. Thirdly, I'm not very good with public mourning. This is different than publicly emoting, you understand. That's just not how I do it, or how my family does it. We do that kind of thing in small, manageable, and mostly private, doses. I could sit and have a drink with someone and talk and about the departed and remember them, but past the actual funeral, I'm not usually one to feel comfortable doing that in big groups. I am not judging people who do publicly mourn, but I don't. You get five minutes to get emotional, and then you have to be gangsta so that you can help other people. Will I sit with other people and help them mourn their loved ones? Absolutely! In a second. Can I let other people do that for me? No. 

Maybe I'm just trying to justify not going. I dunno. I just...I guess I just need to deal with it in my own way. Is that wrong? I'm seriously asking. I am at loose ends here about how I should feel. Sigh. Feelings are so overrated. Why do humans have so many of them, and why are so many of them wet and snotty?

4) We have this dumb song that we sometimes play at our house called, and please do not judge me: Mr. Bootyman. 

Shut up. 

It's a song from the show "Psych" and it was meant to be funny in the context of the show, and it very much was. If you've never watched the show, you might not understand why we are so tickled by it, but it was a throw away gag where the main character played a prank on his dad and he set the song as his ring tone and the dad couldn't figure out how to change it and it caught us off guard. The song would also pop up randomly in the show throughout the run of the series and it was always funny. To us. You're mileage my vary of course.  Many of you are probably more mature than we are.

You can hear it here. Make sure to turn your speakers up loud, though.

MR. BOOTYMAN

Anyways, I had played it on my phone one day and forgot to clear the iTunes app off of the deck, and as I was getting into my car this morning, my phone connected to the stereo and absolutely blasted this song while I was trying to pull out of the driveway. It caught me so off guard that I didn't think to turn it off, and I started laughing too much to do anything about it anyways. My neighbors must love me!

That was a whole thing just so I could introduce you to the Mr. Bootyman song. I wanted to share it with others. :)

I REMEMBERED ONE!

A while back, I believe that I told you about the house next door getting raided by the cops. At least I think I did.  

In case I'm mistaken (and I can't be arsed to go back and look) or if you are new here, I'll give you the Readers Digest Condensed Version of the story: House next door covered with cops. Cops going through the house with flashlights. Cops take away boxes of evidence. Neighbors get arrested.

We had no idea what was going on, and the cops didn't feel the need to let us know if we had dangerous people living 50 feet from us, so we just had to conjecture. Luckily, we have neighbors that aren't as keep-to-themselves as we are. Steve stopped and talked to one lady while on his daily walk, and she told him what she found out.

Drugs. It was drugs. The college aged people next door were receiving and distributing drugs out of the garage in the back of the house. We don't know what kind of drugs, but we DO know that it must have been a sizable operation if 11 deputy vehicles and 4 city cop cars had to be called in.

That's not the funny thing, though. It will show you just how naive I am, I guess. One night, well before the whole raid next door happened, Anthony was over and the three of us were sitting around the fire pit in the back yard. While we were out there, we saw people coming and going next door the whole time. We saw one red Jeep go and come back, go and come back. We saw a black SUV go and come back. Normally, we don't really pay attention to the neighbors unless, you know, something weird is going on, and in our neighborhood this was definitely weird. There is usually not that much going on anywhere around us. As we sat and talked, we started wondering what was going on. Steve and Anthony were saying it had to be something nefarious, or they were dealing drugs or something. I was certain that they were Uber drivers. Nothing as bad as drug dealing could happen in our neighborhood, right?

I'm glad we didn't bet on it. :)

I think I need to start seeing the bad in people sometimes. It'll probably save my life one day.

RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING

 1) OMG, you guys, my oldest nephew is getting married! He proposed to his sweetie last Sunday and will be getting married this Sunday! Apparently they just want to do the thing small and quick with immediate family around, so I will not be there to see it.  I'm not bothered by that in the least (you know my feelings about weddings and all of that) but I told my mother - who will be there- to tell them the day of that I'm completely devastated that I wasn't invited and will not leave them anything in my will. Kind of like Maleficent, but with less cursing and sleeping and more petty malice.

I need them to believe I'm secretly rich so that they will take good care of me when I'm old. Nothing motivates people like a potential inheritance.  

Hehe, also, her name is Kelly. That makes three Kellys in our family now. Me, my step sister, and now Logan's intended. I told mom they can call me Tae to alleviate confusion, but I think that will only cause more confusion. Christmas will be fun.

In a week, both of my nephews will be married men. *SNIFF* Why do they insist on making me feel so old?

2) Y'all, I dyed part of my hair blue last night and it was a bad decision. It wasn't proper dye, so I didn't have to bleach anything, but still... 

I bought something called "Color Depositing Conditioner" which is kind of like a stain and it's supposed to be temporary. I was going to go damn-the-torpedos and just dump it on my hair, but out of an abundance of caution I did one of those inner-elbow allergy tests and realized immediately that it was a very dark, very hard to remove stain. So I put it aside for a while. Then, last night, I got bored. I didn't want to dye my scalp a dark blue (that happened before with some red dye and was a bad look) so I just did a couple of stripes on each side, under the top layer of hair to see if I liked it. It...well, it was not a good thing. It dyed my hair, but it's not a stable dye, so it's very patchy and now it's faded in some places, and in others it's a dark blue green. I suspect by Friday, the gray hairs that are currently blue will be a nice seaweedy green-brown color.Very sexy.

I'm not saying that my hair will not eventually be a fun color, but maybe I'll let a professional do it. 

3) The other day I saw Sara's dad, and he brought me some pictures that she'd had boxed up. One was a drawing of a moon that I did for her in 1996, one was a framed picture of Steve and I, and the other was one of our senior photos that we had made together. That last one was wrinkled and dog eared and had probably been hidden for a while, because after she lost so much weight, her old pictures were not allowed to see the light of day, but I'm very glad I have it. I'd like to frame it, but she'd hate that. Haha. 

I wish I could have had a piece of her jewelry or something. I know that sounds greedy and weird, but I don't mean anything expensive or valuable, just something I could wear and keep close. Is that weird? It feels like a weird thing. Plus, I can't go to her dad and say "Hey, let me root around in her jewelry box and pick something out." Eh, well, I don't really need anything like that. 

I might still frame that picture, though. She'll probably haunt my bones! 

4) You know, I had like three other things I was going to talk about, but I can't remember any of them. I'm sure they were very clever and entertaining. I'll come back if I think of them.

IT’S ALWAYS TOOTH HURTY HERE…GET IT? TOOTH HURTY. HEH.

 Thursday morning I (finally) got to go have the procedure on my tooth done. 

I only say finally, because it seemed like a long time to put off having an abscess taken care of, but the endodontist went to many years of school to make these calls, so who am I to question it? It had actually stopped hurting, so I had a very slight hope that maybe it had gone away, but no such luck.

I had Steve drive me to the appointment because I requested having nitrous during the visit, and although I know I could probably drive home afterwards, I didn’t want to take a chance of being woozy and trying to drive. I was being conscientious, ok? Geez. 

The procedure itself was uneventful, I suppose. I have only vague impressions of someone drilling into my jawbone, thank goodness. I guess it was pretty routine, except that he was only able to do half of it. I don’t know if it was worse than he thought, or if it’s normal to do this kind of thing in two visits (I get the rest of it done in July) but it took less than an hour to drill it, fill the abscess with medication, and slap some dental concrete on my crown and send me on my way. It didn’t even hurt that much, but then, half of my entire face was pumped full of the stuff that takes all the feeling away. Seriously, it was hours before I could feel my lips again! I was even able to go to a Trash Panda baseball game with Steve’s company before I started to feel any pain.

Oh, but the pain was waiting on me. Y’all…when my nerves recovered, I felt like I’d been punched repeatedly in the face. The doc prescribed pain meds, and even though they were the kind you have to show ID to get, they did nothing! I was hurting so badly. Friday and Saturday were spent just trying to manage it, and floating somewhere in a codeine haze. I feel like I must be a huge weenie dog because I can’t seem to get over the hump on this, but even today, Sunday, I woke up in enough pain to keep me home from church with my face on ice. I’m trying very hard not to take more of my pain meds than necessary. Opiates scare me, even the relatively weak ones I was prescribed, but I know I’ll need them at least once a day until they’re gone so I can function until this gets better, because I still feel like I was slammed face first into a wall.

Thankfully, I think it maybe getting a bit better. OTC stuff is helping more today, I think, but my face is also numb from the ice pack, so we’ll see! I hope it is, at least, because another month and a half of this without relief, and I will go insane AND I WILL TAKE YOU ALL WITH ME!

There is no clever way to end this entry. Just send my face some good vibes, if you don’t mind. ;)

RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING

 1) Y'all, we went to the fanciest wedding reception I've ever been to in my whole life the other day!

Now that most people around here are getting vaccinated, and going to outside events is becoming normal again, a friend of ours finally got to have her wedding reception! She was supposed to get married last June, but couldn't have the wedding where they could invite all their friends, so they postponed it until October. October came, and again, they couldn't do the big to-do because we weren't out of quarantine yet, so they went ahead and had a tiny, family-only wedding and postponed the big party until vaccinations were more common. 

Now, these people are rich. I know that sounds gauche for me to say, but they are. Like...really rich. That is important to know so that you can understand the scale of this party.  When the original wedding was being planned, the bride's mom began redoing her property to have the wedding there. We had never been to her mom's house before, so we didn't know what to expect. She lives in a rather rural part of North Alabama, and driving through there was like driving through any other country neighborhood so I thought maybe I'd misunderstood and it was going to be like a backyard party, with just lots of well dressed people.

I was very wrong. When we got to where the GPS told us to go, there was a long driveway that was blocked off and a field to park in. There were golf carts with drivers to take us to the actual party, and showing up to the house was like unexpectedly arriving at Hogwarts Castle. It was this big, beautiful stone house overlooking the valley. When she mentioned redoing the backyard, she didn't mean she planted some shrubs, I mean she resculpted the lawn, dug a lake, laid down paths...that kind of redoing the property.  On the other end of the property there was a massive white tent, a dance floor, a freaking bandstand, and little satellite places with flowers, bars, booze, food, a photo booth, waiters/waitresses bringing around drinks and food and cotton candy and party favors. It was like nothing I'd ever been to before.

I don't mean to sound in awe of the thing, because receptions don't have to be big or fancy to be fun, but it was hard not to be impressed. But all that fancy stuff aside, it was a really fun party! I don't know if it was that people finally felt comfortable getting together again, or what, but we had a blast. Steve even danced! He NEVER dances! We didn't stay very late, but we enjoyed ourselves very much.

2) Steve, Anthony and I went to Nashville to see an art exhibit by Pablo Picasso. It was at the Frist, and it was a lot of fun! 

We got to Nashville around 11:00 Friday morning and had some time to walk around and get lunch before our tour. I will never understand why that city has become a mecca for bachelorette parties. Honestly, from the time we parked our car to the four blocks we walked to get to Broadway, we saw no less than four bachelorette groups walking the same way, and when we finally got to the main street, there were countless more. Granted, Nashville is a city I've been to dozens of times, so I'm sure I take it for granted, but why would people travel from out of state to go to Nashville for something like that? Vegas (tacky, tacky Vegas) I understand...Nashville, not so much.

We had lunch at a place called "Ol Red," which I think is owned by Steve's man crush, Blake Shelton. It was loud. Like, really loud. There was a live band in a relatively small space, so if you wanted to actually have a conversation with the people you are eating with, you're kind of out of luck. We had to shout to be heard, so that sucked, but the food was good at least. Hehe, we did have a small SNAFU at dessert time, though. We each got a different dessert so we could share with each other. You know when you see "To Share" on a dessert menu, usually that means it's slightly bigger than a normal dessert and they bring more than one spoon or fork. Apparently at Ol Red, when they say "To Share" they mean you have enough to share with a softball team. It was a truly alarming amount of dessert. When the waitress brought the platters to us, she looked concerned and so did we. We tried to share with the tables around us (we didn't touch the food with our hands or anything, but people are understandably hesitant to share food with strangers) but ultimately we had to take it home with us. Even after splitting it into two to-go boxes, it still took Steve and I three days to finish our share. So, you know, if you ever eat at Ol Red, just get one dessert for the table. That is more than enough. Geez.

The exhibit was a lot of fun as well, although I was reminded about how irritated I get at Picasso. I don't know why, really, because I don't mind cubist works (although it can be confusing to look at) but I think he is kind of a cheat. See, he was a very talented painter. His early work was more traditional, and beautifully done, and if you look at his progression to cubist work, his stuff is still lovely. Even his more straightforward cubist art is nice. Then he just got weird and stuck with that. I know that's just my opinion and there are people smarter than me that could explain why I'm wrong, but I think he did some avant-garde stuff, the right hoity-toity people said it was awesome, and we ended up with an "Emperor's New Clothes" situation. A lot of his later work is weird, if not down right disturbing. I'm not saying he wasn't talented, but I think he was like "I'm going to make this picture as ugly as possible and people are still going to love me for it." I dunno, it irritated me. It still irritates me. I still enjoyed seeing his work, though, because any time you get a chance to see famous artwork you should, even if it's just to see what the fuss is about. Some of it was nice, other stuff made me angry. But I suppose that's what art is all about, right? Eliciting feelings, even if those feelings are that you want to punch a hole in some of them. Ha!

3)  I need a haircut. I don't want to get one. I love having long hair, but I do not know HOW to have long hair. I'm constantly getting it caught on things and it gets all tangled and crazy looking, and I have split ends, but I still don't want to bother with it! I kind of love the fact that, for a year, we all went slightly feral with our appearance. I mean, I could have done without the weight gain, but I like pandemic hair! I think people look better slightly shaggy! I'll be sad when everyone looks put together again. Well, except for me, I don't think I'll ever look put together, but I never really have so it's ok!

4) I ordered a box of perfume samples from a company that I generally can't afford to buy perfume from. I thought it would be fun to try all the fancy smells and see which one I liked and maybe save up for a bottle, but I think I'm in big trouble. Almost all of the scents are vanilla based, which I usually don't gravitate towards, but they all smell so delicious. I've decided to wear one a day and see which one I like best. My favorite so far is Vanille-Banane, which smells like fancy banana pudding and I'm in love with it. Today I'm wearing something that has the word cacao in it, and it also smells divine. I keep sniffing myself, which is weird, but I don't care. I smell like dessert and I am loving it!!!!

BAD LANGUANGE! EXPLETIVES!

 DADGUMMIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

About a month ago I was eating dinner and there was something hard in my food. The bite of food just so happened to hit right on the only crown I currently had in my mouth and it hurt so bad. SO BAD, YOU GUYS.

I thought that the pain would go away, and it did for a bit, but it came back and was persistent enough that I decided not to be stupid (like I was in 2006) and go ahead and go to the dentist in case I had cracked a tooth or something. Why? Because the last time I ignored a dental problem, for 2 years, I ended up getting a root canal which was horrible and which was the beginning of the shit year that was 2008. Granted, most of my problems that year were not because of my root canal, but the association is embedded in my head. 

SO...I go to the dentist and they tell me I have an infection (sorry if that's gross. It's not a, you know, festering mess, just a painful tooth) in my jaw and that I'd need to go see an endodontist and have it looked at. Why? WHY? Because it was the same effing tooth that had been root canal-ed and they might have to do something called a reversal, or maybe a retrieval, which means redoing the root canal. Why? I DON'T KNOW! Because my stupid tooth wasn't done giving me shit, I guess. 

Apparently it's just been waiting, watching, and biding it's time again. I've apologized to the tooth! I told it I was sorry for not taking it seriously back in the day. I've taken care of it, cleaned it, flossed it, given it fluoride, but for all intents and purposes, it has held a grudge this whole time!

So I go see the endodonist today, and yep, they are going to have to redo the root canal. They took pictures of my jaw bone and there the little pocket of misery was. Why did it happen? No one can explain it. All they can tell me is that they are going to have to drill into my mouth hole until they reach it and can fill it full of...cement...or whatever it is that they do. I told them I'd need nitrous or something, because I couldn't stand the idea of people leaning over me and breathing on my face, and so they agreed to that.

The kicker is that I have to wait until May before I can have it done, so my jaw is going to get worse before it can get better. They did say that if it gets very painful I can call them and hopefully get a sooner appointment for them to do horrible, yet helpful, things in my skull. I am so mad, I could spit.

The silver lining (and I'm determined to have one) is that they didn't mention maybe having to pull my tooth. I was scared of that. I mean, I don't have a lot going for me in the looks department, and I really hoped that being snaggletoothed will not be yet another strike against me in that category. Let's hope that the month and change I'm going to have to wait will not make an extraction necessary.

SIGH. OK, I think I may have ranted enough for today. I just needed to get that out of my system. Keep your fingers crossed that I get this done and this damn molar of mine will finally be content to just chew and allow me to smile with all the teeth I have. :)

Oh, and PS: Possible bad weather tonight. If anything happens to me remember that I like you a great deal. AVENGE ME!

EVEN MORE RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING. AGAIN.

 1) Well, shit, y'all.

On Saturday I got a text from the woman I work for at the cyber security office saying she was giving me a heads up because she was sending me an email with some bad news. She was very nice about it and apologized for telling me this on a weekend, but what it all boiled down to when I got the email was that the company had suddenly, and unexpectedly, lost the contract support she had built up. Because of that, she would have to lay me off.

She was quick to mention that it didn't have anything to do with me or my work, or anything like that, but it was just a bad situation business-wise. I totally understand that. One thing I've learned is that working for the government is like a particular boyfriend I had when I was a teenager. They slobber all over your face, promise you the world, tell you how much they like you, and then one day you find out that they've broken up with you and didn't bother to mention it, and they already have a new girlfriend. (Am I still bitter? Yes. He was a damn fine kisser and it sucked to be dumped without being told. My heart was BROKEN! Heehee.)

I wasn't angry, of course, but I couldn't help but feel disappointed. I know it was only my job one day a week for now, but I'd thought that it would turn out to be a real, long term job in the long run. As per usual, I counted my chickens before they hatched. I won't lie, I had a few hours of feeling a bit sorry for myself, but ultimately I realized I worked as hard and as well as I could, and you really can't ask more of yourself than that. Also, I'm very lucky to still have the job at church, and I'm still doing freelance graphic design, so it isn't like it was my only way of making money. I still have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing with my life, so who knows where I'll be next.

I think feel worse for the woman I worked for, because this company is her dream. She worked so hard to get it to the level that it was at before the dominoes began to fall. I mean it, she was working so much, so late, and running a non profit on the side, and raising her kids and it sucks that this has happened. Thankfully the company still exists, on a much reduced scale, but she hasn't lost it completely. I have all the faith in the world that she will build it back up and hopefully it will become more successful than ever. She's a hip, and very smart, lady. 

Maybe I'll become a welder. 

2)  I had a birthday! Another one! I'm (physically) 43 years old now and it was a really nice birthday. I got to have lunch with my mom, sister, and oldest nephew the Friday before, which was fun, and on the actual day I was at church. Lots of people remembered my birthday, which I though was sweet. It was a low key day, but the people who mattered most to me were a part of it one way or another. Got a great video card, someone at church gave me a cake, Steve gave me some funny gifts, and my mom called and sang to me first thing! 

It was a good day. It's nice when people are glad you're still alive! 

3) I know you'll be shocked to know that things have been quiet here. I wish I had more exciting things to write about. We got some snow, which was fun. Not everyone likes snow, but I like southern snow. It shows up, makes a fuss, and fucks off. There is none of that staying around that other parts of the country have to deal with. It got cold, but that only lasted about three days. It was actually warm here this morning, which - as nice as it is - doesn't bode well for tornado season. It rained like crazy last night, but the sun is out now. So...you know, it's February. 

4) I've literally been sitting here trying to think of other, interesting, things to talk about and I don't have anything else. Maybe I'll be drafted to play for the Falcons or something soon so that I'll have some fun news. I hope so. There's been enough misery to last a few years. Let's keep our fingers crossed!

RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING: YES, ANOTHER ONE

 1) Y'all, a homeless man has set up camp in one of the church doorways. 

The pastor noticed that someone was sleeping out in our breezeway yesterday morning. We have this gap between the buildings where our mailbox is, and the entrance to the building from there is a small covered area that has a security camera trained on it. We have had people sleep there before, and we generally don't bother them, especially if it is a woman, because we know they are probably looking for a safe space for the night. They tend to move on after they notice people moving around in the church. 

I may have screwed up, though. When the guy, a very slight, young looking man with prison tats all over his face, woke up, I knocked on the door and spoke briefly to him. He thought he was going to get yelled at, but I told him it was fine. I meant that I wasn't running him off right then, but I think he took it to mean that he could now live here or something. When I came in today, his stuff was scattered out in the doorway again. On days like today, when I'm here alone, I don't particularly care for having a strange man right outside the doorway where I can't see him, especially when I have to go out there as part of my job. I don't think that being homeless makes a person bad or anything like that, but because this guy is an unknown element, I don't know if he's someone I should be worried about or not.

I am torn for wanting this person to feel safe and for wanting myself to feel safe. If I was homeless, I'd want someone to have compassion on me, but I know we can't have this guy living in our doorway. I don't know what to do.

2) OK, I know you're going to think I'm crazy. Maybe I am crazy. However, I'm going to tell you this because it 100% happened, and if I am crazy, you can at least know where I started to lose it.

Yesterday afternoon, I was the only person left in the building. Our homeless friend had walked off of the property and according to all of our security cameras, there were no other people around. I was killing time, watching YouTube videos, and waiting for it to be 3:00 so I could go home.

I heard a child shriek out in the lobby of the church, which is just outside my office. It wasn't a scary sound, really. It was the kind of sound a little kid makes when they are either playing or just about to get mad. I wasn't even startled at first, because when little kids are around, it's a sound I've heard a thousand times here. Only thing was, there were no children here. It was loud enough that I looked up to see what was going on before I remembered I was alone. I stood up and looked out into the breezeway, just in case the homeless guy had a family we didn't know about, but no one was there. I looked outside, in case the family next door, which has kids, were playing in our parking lot. There was no one there.

Y'all, I don't know if you've ever experienced hearing a sound that has no reason to be heard, but part of my skin that normally doesn't crawl, crawled. My heart was telling me to GTFO of the building as fast as I could, but my brain was telling me that I should grab my bat and go check out the strange noise. I don't know what I was going to do with my bat, bludgeon a child to death, I suppose, but thankfully I listened to my heart this time. Before I left, I paused long enough to shout into the void of the empty church (you know, just in case a small child sneaked in through a vent or something. Kids can do that, right?) and ask if anyone was there, but I didn't get an answer. I was so unnerved that I was even afraid to turn off the light, but I did manage to do that much. I ran out to the car and locked myself in that, because as you know, ghosts can't get inside locked cars (allegedly...hehe) and went home early.

I'm sure there is a good reason for what I heard. Probably even a rational reason. Until I know for sure, I don't think I'm going to be comfortable alone in this building for a while.

If it is a ghost, do you know anyone I could call? 

3) I've picked up my crocheting again for the first time in almost two years! I don't know why I stopped, but I have so many different interests that when I put one down to try another one, sometimes it takes a while to pick things back up!

I don't know what made me grab my hooks again, but I sat down one night with a, mostly used, roll of yarn to make a dish cloth, and I just kept on making dish cloth sized squares! I don't know if I'll keep up with this long enough to make a whole afghan's worth of squares or not, but we'll see. To date, I've still only managed to make one entire afghan, and that was a labor of love and endurance. I was determined to finish that one because I'd set a goal and knew where the end product was going. Right now, I'm just chugging along to see where I get to on this one. 

If it ends up as a blanket, it's not going to be very pretty, but it doesn't have to be pretty to be warm!

(That philosophy applies to humans as well. Just FYI.)

HAHA

I had some time today to go back and read the blog entries that I've written throughout last year, and this last entry, I realized that I basically wrote the same things, over and over and over!

Y'all, I know I have a terrible memory, but I genuinely had no idea that I had the same thoughts so often and that I'd write about them as if they were just occurring to me!

I blame the COVID. Oh, and 2020. It was Groundhog Day for an entire year!

Yes. That is what I will blame. Not my terrible memory and lack of things to talk about.

I'll try and do better, I promise!

Hehe!

RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING: EARLY 2021 EDITION

 1) Happy new year, y'all!  

Did you guys celebrate in an appropriate manner like I did?  You know, a giant party, swapping drinks, and tongue kissing strangers at the stroke of midnight?  Hehe.  You know, just like every year!

OK, please don't call the police, I'm kidding. I had to work until noon on NYE, and then Steve and I met Anthony at the big park downtown and we walked around for a while. We grabbed dinner and then fell asleep asleep well before midnight.

Steve and I did, at least. Regardless of what some people think, Anthony wasn't involved in that part!

January 1st was an oddly disjointed kind of day for me, though. I tried to get in touch with people to say Happy New Year, as per usual, but I couldn't connect with some of them. It made the day feel kind of weird and incomplete. I didn't even get a new years kiss till way later in the day! Steve and I set about trying to clean out our pantry, but only managed half of it before we ran out of garbage space! He and I also didn't have the requisite black eyed peas, but we improvised by finding a plethora (... I just would like to know if you know what a plethora is. I would not like to think that a person would tell someone he has a plethora, and then find out that that person has *no idea* what it means to have a plethora.) of random beans and peas in the afore mentioned pantry. We invented a soup that turned out pretty good, but was too big for our soup pot! It had hot Italian sausage, every bean and pea we could fit in it, barley, and cabbage. Sounds pretty gross when I write it out, but it was a version of a real soup recipe we already had, and we liked it! I hope it checked whatever boxes that superstitious new year food might need to be checked. 

I picked up a crochet hook for the first time in about two years and made plain squares while we watched football games. It was a weird, yet cozy, day.

I hope you had a nice New Year's Day, too!

2) January is always an odd month for me. 

I admitted this elsewhere, but every single January I have this little voice in my head that whispers that someone I love has resolved to cut me out of their lives for good. I suppose that speaks volumes about my current self esteem, doesn't it? I constantly feel like I'm someone's bad habit! Haha! Even worse is that, as adults, people can choose at any time that they don't need you. They don't have to make a new years resolution. I know this. I don't know why that feeling always creeps around the new year, but it happens every year, and every year I pray fervently that it isn't true. I spend the entire month feeling on edge, waiting to see who is still talking to me by February. Anxiety is weird like that, though. Weird and irrational.  At least I hope it's irrational. 

You're still gonna love me forever, right? RIGHT?!

3) OK, I feel like I need to correct something I said in my last entry even though it's not really a big deal. It's been bugging me. 

In my attempt to explain our rather bland existence over the past few months, I think I might have implied that Steve and I had been keeping exclusively to the house for the duration of all the quarantine times. We have not. We should have, I know, but it didn't work out that way. I'm sorry if I made it sound like we'd been more conscientious that we actually were.

We've mostly stayed home, I guess you could say, but Steve has been exclusively working from home since early March and he did get the bug to get out of the house a few times, which meant some travel. Some of it was against my better judgement, I'll admit, but I won't lie and say I didn't go along. We were as careful as we could be under the circumstances, for what it's worth. I'm probably always going to feel like I had a hand in killing someone's grandmother, though, just because I have been someplace other than my house during 2020. 

It's hard, because literally no one else in my circle is the least worried about getting sick or getting other people sick. The main refrain is "You'll be fine. It'll be fine. Don't worry so much." I don't know what to do with that, so I just go along. Its easier not to argue. I always joke that Steve will have a COVID positive person just spit directly into my mouth at some point, so that I'll stop worrying, but let's hope that is something he resorts to down the line. WAY down the line!

4) I've found a version of "You Can Leave Your Hat On" that I might like better than Tom Jones' version. Its the one by Etta James, and a style of music I didn't know she made! Do yourself a favor and give it a listen. It's awesome!

5) You guys, I have jacked up my back big time and I don't even know what I did. I know I did something to it in August, but it's gotten much worse over the past month and change. I probably should have gone to the doctor way before now, but most doctors are very busy at the moment. 

I can't really do anything, exercise wise, without being in agony for two or three days afterward. I can't walk very far, can't run, can't even do Yoga. I'm fine if I sit or lie down, basically. I have gained so much weight and I hate it! I feel like I'm inside someone else's body. I also feel the need to apologize to people who have to look at me, and I'm terrified that I'm going to run into someone I haven't seen in a long time. I'm very embarrassed at myself at the moment, which is an icky feeling. I never knew how vain I was until now, I guess. LOOK AWAY! I'M A MONSTER! It's a good thing I have such a winning personality, right?! Heehee.

At some point I'm going to have to go see a doc about it, or I'll end up having to be moved around Hannibal Lechter-style everywhere I go, strapped to a moving dolly. At least I'll already be wearing a mask! :)  My dad had to have surgery on his spine, and they replaced some of his bone with cadaver donor bones. Maybe that will be what they do to me!

Go ahead and get the "Got a strangers bone inside you" jokes ready, if so. I'm going to want to hear all of them!  

6) This is a lot of randomness, so I'm going to stop here. I hope your 2021 is a hell of a lot better than last year was!

Oh, and I hope we're still friends in February!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

 Hello there! I'm so glad you're still around.

This has been a weird year. What a time to be alive, am I right? Hehe!

I'm sorry that there hasn't been a lot to read about on my blog this year. I sat down to write here several times, but I just couldn't make myself be interesting. I wanted to write some stuff, because I like my little blog and I'm not ready to let it die just yet, but most of the time when I sat down to write, I didn't think I had anything good to say. There wasn't much I felt like writing about.

Plus, as I've mentioned several times, there just hasn't been that much going on. Steve is still working from home, and I've still been going into the offices. We buy groceries, wash our hands, watch TV, and eat. I worry about how much weight I have gained and how little exercise I actually do. Seriously, it's getting desperate! I miss my friends and I worry every time I'm with family that somehow I'm going to make them sick. It's been kind of a bummer for the past nine or ten months, and who wants to write (or read) about that?

But I'm still around, and good and virus free (so far!) I hope very much that things start to improve on a global scale very soon. I hope that the virus gets bitch-slapped, and people shut up about politics, and things can get back to a kind of normal in the days to come.

Also, I'm very thankful for you guys who still stop by to see what I'm doing. I just wanted to say hello, and merry Christmas, and that hope that the new year will bring you many happinesses and joys and the good kind of excitement! 

Let's hope that in the new year, we have a lot more exciting stuff to talk about!

Cheers!

PS: There is one more thing I need to say and it's very important.

For some reason the song "You Can Leave Your Hat On" has been circling my brain for the past little while (which means my OCD meds are probably not working correctly) and I have an issue.

First off, I learned about the song from "The Full Monty" soundtrack, where it is performed by Tom Jones. That is the version I love. I used to have the MP3 of that version before my old computer decided to shuffle off this mortal coil, and I didn't have a back-up of it. 

When I tried to go to Apple and buy it, there were a lot of versions of the song, but none of them were by Tom Jones. When I asked Alexa (shut up, I love her) to play it, she would only play the one by Joe Cocker. Cocker's version is not bad, but it doesn't hold a candle to the one by Tom Jones. 

Joe Cocker sounds like he's having fun singing a slightly risque song. Tom Jones sounds like he's trying to peel off your panties with his voice. I suppose you know which one I like the best.

Apparently you can't buy that version of the song for love or money anymore. Perhaps the incidences of spontaneous pregnancies due to Tom Jones' version of the song became overwhelming. I don't know, but I am bitter about this.

So if you come across that version of the song someplace other than YouTube and it doesn't cost an arm or a soul, let me know. I need it in my life.

That is all.

RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING 2: THE BLOGGANING

 1) Up until last year, Steve had never carved a pumpkin for Halloween. 

Pause:

Steve's childhood baffles me, because although he had loving, attentive parents and had a seemingly otherwise normal childhood, he didn't do a lot of things your average, non-Jehovah's Witness, kid would have done as a matter of course. Until we got married, he had never colored Easter eggs, never made a Jack-O-Lantern, and had never had a birthday party. None of this is relevant to what I'm going to talk about, but a tangent is a trip I always seem to take regardless of the direction I NEED to be going in. 

Unpause:

Last year he carved his first pumpkin and he seemed to enjoy it, so this year he went to a place and brought home two pumpkins so we could carve them to decorate the stoop.  Unfortunately, lack of time and waning interest in doing the carving left us two pumpkins sitting around the house. We moved them to the floor of the kitchen for a day or two to get them out of the way. Well, one of them started to mold. I didn't notice right away, because it started at the bottom, and it leaked pumpkin water (?) all over the floor and caused one two of our floorboards to warp a little. Gross and inconsiderate! So I took it outside and threw it against some rocks in our back garden to bust it open so that the critters could eat the seeds while they were stocking up for winter. No critter would touch it. I would watch squirrels and birds circle it, and none of them would go near it. 

For some reason this ticked me off. I threw a moldy, but still useful, pumpkin out there for them and they were not eating it! We have all kinds of small animals back there, and even some bigger ones that come around, and that stupid pumpkin was never touched.  Maybe they didn't want it because it was moldy or something, but still...

So I took the other, perfectly normal, non-moldy pumpkin that we had placed on our stoop to the back yard and cracked it open. No mold, full of seeds, and should have been delicious to any animal getting ready for winter, and yet, none of them will eat it! I literally watch animals walk over and look at it and then walk away!  Why do they not touch my autumn offerings? WHY?!

My only consolation is this: If I were to have woken up one morning to find a random bacon cheeseburger in my kitchen, would I eat it? Probably not. I would wonder where it came from, and maybe wonder if someone was trying to poison me with delicious foods. Maybe I'm not giving my back yard vermin enough credit. Maybe they are suspicious of the feast that suddenly appeared in their living space. Maybe they don't trust me. This makes me weirdly sad.

These are the kind of things that occupy me these days. Oy.

2) Y'all, I made a stupid, stupid, stupid impulse purchase the other day. 

In my defense, online shopping has made it WAY too easy to buy things when I'm tired, and when I'm tired, I don't make very good choices. Shopping while sleepy is how I ended up with two pairs of Pajama Jeans.

I already know that you are going to judge me and think I'm very dumb with money, and yes, obviously sometimes I can be, so judge away. I deserve it. I'm telling you this as a way to shame myself.

I bought a $49 dollar pineapple. It's not a fake pineapple that will last forever, but a real pineapple that we can eat.  Please don't disown me.

In my defense, it isn't a normal pineapple! It's a newly created and rare kind of pineapple that Del Monte has just put out for sale. I have this...thing...I guess you'd call it, about being able to taste interesting, new, different things! Usually, I never get a chance to do it, because whatever it is isn't sold where I can get my hands on whatever it is. There are fruits that I'll never get to try unless I backpack through South America, and dishes I'll never eat unless I decided to live in rural China. There are a million variety of apples I'll never taste because they can't be shipped! That isn't fair!!!!  So when I was reading about this pineapple, and saw there was a link to a fruit company that was selling them, I kind of lost my head.

It's called a Pinkglow Pineapple, which, now that I think about it, sounds like a kinky sex toy. 

OK, so pineapples usually contain lycopene, which is the same thing that makes tomatoes red, but a naturally occurring enzyme in the fruit usually converts the lycopene to beta carotene, which is yellow. This pineapple has been changed to contain less of the enzyme, so the fruit stays pink. It's supposed to taste a little different, be sweeter, and be pink. Probably for Instagram. I have no idea. This fruit takes years to grow and and is only just now available to be shipped. 

Look, I know none of this makes spending $49 dollars on a damn pineapple any better, but what is done is done. I have grounded myself from buying anything other than necessities for a while because this was indeed a stupid, frivolous purchase.

But...but... let's be real here, I'm probably still going to enjoy it, because right now, I'm going to take any chance for a new experience! If it takes a pink pineapple and some buyers remorse to do it, so be it. 

NOTE: We tried it last night. It was good! It was not $49 good, though. :)

RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING

 1) So, here is how the situation with the cat has ended.

Steve decided that he didn't want her remains to be disposed of without anyone to claim them, so he had Simba cremated and now we have her cremains on the same shelf as Butler and Bear. We aren't sure they would have gotten along very well in life, but we figure that in that Rainbow Bridge place, they are probably all friends.

The really weird thing is that we know that Simba was someone else's cat. She had to be. She was fat, way too friendly for a feral animal, and she had no instinct to protect herself when the dogs got after her. We are fairly sure she had been a house cat for some time before she came to us, which means that there is a family, or a person, who has no idea what happened to her. Although she lived with us for more than a year, and was for all intents and purposes our cat, we both feel kind of bad that somewhere out there are people who might miss her, and they don't know she died, and that we have her ashes in an urn in our dining room. 

Animal control came over and talked to Steve the next day. We could have pressed charges against the people who owned the dog, but we chose not too. As much as the whole situation sucked, we didn't want to make it a THING. You know what I mean? We hate that Simba died the way she did, but we didn't want to be responsible for anyone losing their dog, when really, the dog was just being a dog. The Animal Control guy said that they wouldn't have lost the dog, but they would have had to pay more fines. Apparently when the neighbors called the police after it all happened, they are already getting hit with a vicious animal charge, which is a hefty fine already. We still declined, and the officer thought we were being really too nice about the whole thing. We were just done wanting to think of it. The officer did go to the house where the owners lived and told them how kind we were being, and how they need to be more careful with their dogs and all of that.

Ya know, I don't expect any of them to offer to pay the vet bills or bring us cookies, but you'd think one of them would at least holler over the fence and say that they were sorry their dog ate our cat. Don't you?

2) I think the social distancing is starting to get to me. Granted, Steve is at home and we see people at church and when we run errands (and the craziness that is associated with not really having control over who you see in places like that) but I've realized that I've developed a borderline Imaginary Friend. I say borderline, because it is a real person I pretend to talk to, but that person isn't really there, so really, I'm projecting my own ideas and thoughts onto the idea of a person and having conversations with them. 

Not out loud, though. Sigh. This seems weird. It is weird, isn't it?

I guess the only real problem with what I'm doing is if I see this person in real life and expect them to remember what we talked about in my head.

Is this what it feels like to go mad? 

3) We have been re-watching The Office again lately. When it was first on the air, I was a HUGE fan of the show. I made sure that I was at home to see it when it aired if possible, and it is, to date, only one of two shows I ever paid Apple to watch if I wasn't at home to watch it live. (The other was Lost. Don't judge me.) I watched every episode, and I got emotionally involved with characters, and I think it made me cry a couple of times. It was one of those shows I connected with for whatever reason, and I loved it so much.

I'm not sure it's held up, though. As we've watched it again, I find myself wanting to punch Michael Scott so much, and Jim...well...he isn't as nice as I remember. I also don't remember it making me cringe quite so much as it does now. In fact, I worry more about the fact that they work in a paper company during a time when paper was being used less and less, than I care about anything else they're doing! I get stressed because I know their company will become obsolete in a few years time. How stupid is that? Haha!

I guess that's the difference between being 27 and 42 years old and watching the same show. Now I'm old and jaded, I guess! Sometimes you can't go home again!

4) Sorry for the filler, but things are so boring. Nothing fun is happening right now, so there isn't much to talk about. Probably the most exciting thing I've gotten to do lately is see the Super Retriever Series dogs compete in the parking lot of the local Marshall's. You can social distance and watch dogs jump into big tanks of water and, well, retrieve stuff and swim back. We can't pet the dogs, though, so it's almost not worth it!

Ugh, I miss my friends and my cat, but otherwise, things are fine. We are fine. Our jobs are fine. Our families are fine. Everything here is fine! I hope you're also fine and enjoying life as much as possible!

 

IT'S ALL RELATIVE

Humor me for a moment, will you? 

Are you familiar with the "Many Worlds Theory?" I'm not going to pretend that I can explain it the right way, but as I understand it, it means that all possible outcomes occupy a place in and on an infinite amount of different worlds. That's probably not exactly right, but it's close enough. I have always interpreted it as every possibility of a choice creates it's own reality. That makes a lot of realities, since we make hundreds of choices every day, but the idea makes an odd amount of, ahem, sense to me. I will think of it as the Quantum "Sliding Doors" Theory. (Pratt, 2020) So every time a decision is made, another reality is created where the opposite decision was made. So, say, I decided not to marry Steve back in 2000, and now there is a very complex parallel reality where I become a plus size stripper or anchor person on MSNBC. Maybe both. 

One thing that Steve and I talk about sometimes, only partially seriously, is that people must have the ability to inadvertently slip between realities. I already know that sounds crazy, but my theory is that if a new reality is created to accommodate a new outcome it has to go someplace, and if the outcome of a choice is fairly minor, then the reality isn't that far removed physically from the one we are currently living in, maybe even overlapping it. So, say, if in one reality Kool-Aid never created a blue raspberry flavor, then that blue-raspberry-less reality is positioned much closer to the original reality because it would be a small change. So one day you might wake up with a craving for that Kool-Aid, but go to the store only to find out it never existed. You might remember having that flavor many times, or seeing commercials for it, but no one else remembers it. That would mean you somehow crossed over into the different reality through one of the overlapping places. Stephen King calls them a "thinny" or a thin place in reality. Of course, in his case, the alternate realities are full of Lovecraftian monsters, while my own ideas are more about which Kool-aid you can buy. 

Potato - Potahto

Anyways, this has been coming up a lot for me lately and it's getting weird. Not long ago I had a conversation about something I thought I heard a friend say years ago, but he said he didn't say. I could remember it so clearly that you could have held me at gunpoint at any time and asked about it, and I would have sworn on the bible that he did. However, he didn't. Obviously, I just misunderstood what he did say, but in my head it was so freaking clear that hearing otherwise makes it seem unreal.

Another example is something my mom told me, or so I thought. It was a story about my aunt going somewhere and getting sick. I remember hearing the story and being indignant about it, because it seemed like a silly risk for her to take. I remember details about the story, down to being able to imagine the situation. I even told that story to my coworker, because I was irritated that it happened. I brought it up to my mom yesterday and she had no idea what I was talking about. She said that never happened, and proceeded to tell me a completely different story of how she got sick. In fact, over the past couple of years, that same thing has happened to me with my mom. I remember her telling me stories about family members, and those stories became part of the way I thought of my extended family in general, but when I've asked her about it, she said none of it was the way it actually happened.

It's not just me, though,. It's happened to Steve as well! We were standing in his office and heard a big truck outside, so we looked out of the window and saw a utility truck a crew working on a fire hydrant. He said "When did we get a fire hydrant there?" I didn't remember ever seeing any big utility work being done on that side of the street, so it couldn't have been put there in the past 20 years, so it had to be there much longer. Also, it's an old hydrant, so if it were newer, it wouldn't look the way it does. That might not be so weird under most circumstances, but he's lived in that house literally all his life. How could he live somewhere for 45 years and not notice a yellow fire hydrant right across the street? He's also had other things happen to him several times that he's noticed recently don't exactly jive with his memories.

Now, I'm not saying any of this is real or that it's true, or even that I honestly believe in it. For all I know, we are just considering a pseudo-scientific explanation for both of us having really bad memories! But it has been happening enough lately that it's starting to become almost too much of a coincidence. 

Has it ever happened to you? Have you ever believed or remembered something clearly, only to have it be proven later on that it was different than you thought? Think about it, or at least start paying closer attention to some of your memories in case some things you've thought for years are suddenly very different. 

I'll just stop here before you really think I've gone off the deep end. I hope you wake up in the right reality! Especially the one that has blue raspberry Kool-Aid!