Another One In the Books...

April is done, man...

Okay, maybe not totally done, but mostly done. 

How did it go?

Well...

Reading. I was behind 5 books the end of March. I read 6 books in April and ended the month behind by...well..6 books. Anyone following the trend can see that at this rate I will end up the year behind by 14 books so...yeah. I just need a push of some quicker reads and it should be fine. Or I won't reach this goal and that will be fine. STOP LAUGHING! 

Writing, to keep pace on the monthly blog total I need to write 12 a month and right now I'm ahead by 24 blogs. So that's good. I wanted to write 6 fiction pieces last month and got 6 done. Still haven't submitted anything yet, but I'm hopeful that will happen soon. 

The new diet (as in way of eating, not diet like weight loss plan) is plugging along nicely. Well, I mean, I'm still a little whiney about it. I've described it as a slow motion car wreck. I keep thinking I've accepted it all and then something will cross my mind and I'll think Oh I can have...(insert food craving here) and realize, oh no. I can't. I mean, I can. If I want to. None of this is going to kill me, but it's painful so I probably won't. But I'm adjusting. 

With the new way of eating I've lost weight for sure. I lost about 4 pounds this month. Not a crazy amount at all but a good amount. Steady. The amazing thing for me (and those of you who are also on Facebook you've heard this) was that when I did my measurements this morning I lost 4 inches from my belly. FOUR! And it was really specific. Like everywhere else was steady or maybe a quarter of an inch. Which is what I would expect. But right around the belly button? Four freaking inches. Amazing. Which really shows me that I wasn't just experiencing swelling in my joints but I had that bloat that people talk about which I honestly never thought I did. I didn't feel bloated. But I clearly was. So that's exciting. 

Tonight I am doing one of the last experiments. My friend Tiffany found a heritage grain that a lot of people with gluten issues can eat without issues. I am trying it tonight to see if I am one of those people. I am a little nervous about it. I mean I know that even if I have a bad reaction (normal bread, potato level) that I will uncomfortable tonight and in pain for a few hours in the morning and then it will pass and fade away. But it's been awhile since I've had anything but a mild reaction (chicken is not great, chicken!) so I'm not looking forward to the possibility. That and what if I don't have a reaction but I get the bloat back? How sad would it be to be able to eat bread again but the trade off is four inches around my belly? 

Workouts were consistent. I've increased my flexibility range a bit more and might actually be where I want to be by next month. I think the diet change actually gave me a boost there too. Less inflammation, less pain, more flexibility. It's all tied. 

I did the POD/Daily Gratitude/Meditation cycle again this month and that worked out just fine. 

So what about May?

Brent and I get our second doses mid-May so that's exciting. And a little concerning. The side effects are no joke when you get them. Brent joked that after we get our doses we should get some sort of treat that I've been super missing. Since I'm going to feel like crap anyway I might as well get a treat right? I thought it was hilarious. 

And as for the rest of May goals?

Well it's a get through it month. That's it. We are approaching the worst of the firsts. May is going to suck. There is just no way around it. So I'm not putting anything on my plate. I'm just getting through it. What I do, I do. What I don't, I don't. And that's okay. 

So I guess May's main goal is grace. Have grace for myself and especially for Brent and Christopher and what May is going to be like. Have grace for everyone around us who doesn't realize how much May sucks a lot for them and some for me. 

Go ahead and borrow that goal if you want. It's a good one.

Filters...

"Why would you say that?"

Well there were a few answers she could give. But the first one was that sometimes her brain tongue connection was just a lot faster than her brain filter one. Not always, like right now she was carefully thinking of the answer to that question, but sometimes; sometimes it was so fast she was even surprised by what came out of her mouth. 

There was the time her boyfriend of 6 months looked her deep in the eyes and said, "I love you" and her response was, "Oh you do not." 

There was the time the doctor came into the room with the results from her mother's scan and before he could open his mouth she said, "It's back and it's bad."

There was the time her daughter came to her and stumbled for a few minutes before she let her off the hook, "You want to talk about getting on birth control."

When her boss of 15 years called everyone in for a mandatory meeting and she told her desk mate, "Well I guess the company is closing."

When the officer who pulled her over asked, "Do you know why I've pulled you over?" and she responded, "To make your quota?"

When her boyfriend, a different one than the one who proclaimed his love at six months, looked her in the eyes and swallowed hard and she already was shouting yes before he could say a word. He never did ask her, and at times joked that he wasn't going to ask her to marry him that day, but once she said yes he was fine with the idea. 

But he had been going to ask. Because that was the case when her brain tongue connection worked faster than her brain filter connection. It was times she was right. Solidly, completely, right. 

So when her friend asked, "Why would you say that?" it wasn't a simple answer. 

"Have you heard the news?"

"No. Do I want to?"

"No, no, you don't. Gretchen is dead."

"Oh my god, Gary killed her."

"Why would you say that?"

Trying It On...

She wasn't sure what type of person could wear a coat like this.

Okay, that wasn't right. 

Anyone could wear a coat like this. She was trying it on right now. But who could really wear a coat like this? Not just put it on, but have it fit. You know? Those were different things. 

She pet the collar. It was fur she thought. If not real fur then a very good fake. Which was probably what it was. Nobody wore real fur anymore unless it was an antique coat. Something that had been in your family for generations. But this wasn't that. So it was probably just a very expensive fake fur collar. She imagined someone slipping this coat on and then doing that move with their hair that women with really long hair do. Where you pull your hair out of the collar and let it fall, no not fall, cascade, let it cascade back down your back. She imagined a woman with long thick hair, maybe a soft natural wave, slipping on this coat and then letting her hair cascade over her shoulders and down her back. 

Or maybe, someone with one of those really chic super short styles. She thought maybe they were called pixies? Not that the women were pixies, the hair cut was a pixie. Mia Farrow had one back in the day. Actresses would still sport them. Showing up on a red carpet one week with hair cut almost to the their scalp and the next week with long sheets of impossibly thick hair. The wigs were so amazing she was never sure if they ever showed their real hair. 

But the thick fluffy collar would be a really nice thing to have if your hair was that short. It would keep your neck nice and warm. You could even sort of scrunch up into the coat and keep your ears comfortable too. Though she imagined any woman who fit this coat wasn't much of a scruncher. 

Her very practical chin length bob didn't really work. It wasn't short enough to miss the collar and it wasn't long enough to go over it so it kept sort of getting stuck on top of it. Maybe she could cut her hair, or curl it a bit and then it would work. 

She ran her hands down the sides of the coat. It was so soft. Cashmere. She didn't know what cashmere felt like, but this seemed like it could be that. Cashmere was always described as soft, and this was very soft. Not at all like her normal parka. She had owned her puffy coat for years. It was warm, it had great pockets, it was easy to clean when the kids, or let's be really honest, she spilled something on it. But it wasn't soft so much as it was slick. 

But this coat? So soft. The pockets were almost invisible. Slits tailored into the coat so as not to ruin the lines. She imagined a pair of kid gloves to match. Or maybe contrast. Red gloves to go with the black coat? No, probably black. Nothing too garish. Very classy. Soft delicate gloves. 

Her Aunt Delores had a pair of kid gloves. She remembered being shocked when Aunt Delores talked about them. Not just because she was so proud but because nobody else seemed bothered. Her Uncle Abner had said, "They are really too delicate and impractical but whatever my DoDo wants, my DoDo gets." 

She had made sure to never be alone in a room with her Aunt Delores after that. Or her Uncle Abner either. What if her gloves got ruined and she needed another pair? What if she was the only kid around to make them from?

It was embarrassing how long she thought that kid gloves were made from children. 

But she imagined now that this coat would go with a pair of the softest gloves. The kind that fit the wearer like a second skin. Perfection.

She imagined the clothes you would need to wear with a coat like this. Maybe some tight jeans with knee high boots. Or maybe a cocktail dress with just enough sparkle to stand out but not so much as to look like a disco ball. Or if you could wear a coat like this would you be cool enough not to care about what you were wearing? Would you be one of those people her mother used to say had "effortless style." He father would follow that up with "Effortless style always seems to need an endless bank account."

Her mother would roll her eyes and wave him off. 

She tried to stand further back from the mirror to see the full length of the coat, but it wasn't a big enough mirror to capture everything. She did that hold your phone over your head move to try and capture it with the camera. Which just made her look like a child trying to wear grown up clothes.

She was not the sort of person who could wear a coat like this. She knew from the moment she slipped it on. 

She took it off and laid it back over the chair where she had found it. 

Then she took a deep breath and headed upstairs to see the type of woman who could wear a coat like this.

 And take it off to sleep with another woman's husband. 

You're Soaking In It...

There is an old joke about fish.

Two fish are swimming along talking about whatever it is fish talk about. 

A third fish swims by and says, "Hey, how's the water?"

The first fish turns to the second fish and says, "What's water?"

Then there is the old Palmolive commercial where the woman is getting a manicure and talking to her manicurist about how harsh her dish soap is. The manicurist tells her all about how wonderful and soothing this other dish soap is and then says, "You're soaking in it!" Much delight and laughter follows. 

Fish don't notice the water. It's all around them, it's just the way it is. 

You don't notice what you are soaking in at the manicurist, it is just what's offered up and you assume it's good for you.

A few months ago a friend of mine posted something about religion and in the post talked about how he worried that his non-religious friends would be mean and asked that we not be. 

He ended up taking the post down because people were really mean. 

Not the non-religious ones. The religious ones. Which if he asked me, I could have told him would probably be the way it went. 

Because if you are an atheist or agnostic that has decided the religious people in your life are good friends you are generally pretty careful, in their spaces, to not be a dick about it. If you are having discussions about why you aren't religious you tend to choose your words carefully. Now if you are with just your friends who are also not religious you might be a little more free with your language, or a little less careful about your phrasing. But for the most part you aren't a dick to your friends. 

But religious people often don't follow that same guide. And they will tell you they aren't being a dick, but telling someone that they have no morals, they cannot possibly be a good person or that they will bow their knee and confess that god is king before burning in hell is pretty much being a dick.

But I sort of got why he was worried about those of us who aren't religious. He and I were raised in the same church and we were taught that atheists were basically evil pawns of Satan. Madalyn Murray O'Hare who was the most famous atheist of the day and was leading the battle to remove mandatory prayer from public schools was called all sorts of horrible names. She was pretty much the walking embodiment of evil. Not only was she trying to kill god she was a WOMAN. How dare she?

Someday god would get her...

When she disappeared, and then later her body was found there were people in religious circles who were practically gleeful about it. She sure got hers!

Right now we are in the midst of a big pushback from the Religious Right. They are pretty sure they are being oppressed and the world is trying to take away their religion. 

And it feels really true to them. 

Because more and more people are noticing the water. 

Quite a few years ago a friend and I went to one of those all day positive motivation seminars that used to tour in the before times. Where you get like a dozen motivational speakers and a sprinkling of pretty famous people who give little lectures about being the best you possible. After it was over and I wrote about the day I mentioned that it was all a little too religious for me, but there was some good stuff in there as well. My friend who went with me said he hadn't noticed it was religious at all. There were multiple mentions of thanking god for gifts. There was a sermon in the middle of the day with an altar call to come forward and accept the blessing. It was all water to him. He hadn't even noticed it. 

In God We Trust on the money. 
One Nation Under God added to the pledge. 
God bless the United States at the end of every political speech. 

It's all water. 

Until you notice it. 

Then it's not even Palmolive that you're soaking in because it's a lot more abrasive than that. 

Another friend of mine, one who happens to not be religious, posted a quote meme the other day that the basic gist of it was that the biggest reason there are atheist is because of Christians who are hypocrites. 

Well...no.

That's a very water/Palmolive view of atheism. 

I'm not an atheistic leaning agnostic because of hypocrites in the Church.  I am what I am because I couldn't reconcile the teachings of the church with my own findings. With what I could see to be actually true. There were things I would have to believe that I didn't. I left because I learned something else and that new information meant that the church was wrong. And if the church was wrong in that area then...well it was a house of cards.

I raised Christopher without any religion at all. There was nothing for him to leave. He can recognize hypocrisy in those that claim to be religious and don't follow what is supposed to be their own teachings, but that's not why he isn't religious. He isn't religious because he isn't. It's just that simple.

But Christians cannot fathom a world where someone is just not religious. 

It's not a thing they can see. 

And it's always shocking to them. I've had more than one person in a discussion about why our laws should not be based on religion tell me I will burn in hell. My response is that I don't believe in hell so that's not a persuasive argument to use on me. They then insist that it doesn't matter that I don't believe in it, it's going to happen, so there! Okay. Well, if it makes your sleep better at night imagining my eternal suffering and torture, I guess....good for you? 

I also almost always use the lower case g when I am discussing god. I've had people tell me how disrespectful that is. But to who? To Christians who have decide there is only one god so they just took the description and capitalized it? I mean, that's not even the name of the deity you worship. It's Yahweh right? Isn't that what Moses taught? And if I were to use Yahweh I'd capitalize it. That's a name. Capitalizing the word god is just a dick move to the other religions, you are saying your god is THE god and their gods are all lowercase wanna bes. Which fine. That's your belief, but I don't think your god is any more real than theirs are. 

Which makes me the dick. 

Because you are soaking in it. 

But I know it's water and I decided not to drown in it a long time ago.

Freedom of religion. 
Freedom from religion.

I'm in favor of both. 

I do not want the laws determined by your religious beliefs if you cannot give me other reasons as well. 

I do not want to see people discriminated against because somehow the book you read that tells you god is love has an asterisk that relates down to but not for these groups of people. 

I do not want to see laws made that are used to cause harm to people who are born perfect but told by the religion that teaches god does not make mistakes that they are mistakes. 

You don't have to believe what I do, or don't as the case may be. But I'm so tired of everything around us being your water. And I'm tired of you thinking moving to the fish bowl so you can keep swimming in it while the rest of us dry out is oppression. 

You keep swimming in your water. 
You keep soaking in your Palmolive.
You keep believing whatever you want to.

But I'm not going to.
I don't.
I won't. 
I can't. 

If believing in your god, in your religion, in your church, means that you think you need to make laws that are discriminatory, that are exclusionist, that only benefit those that are swimming with you? Well...no thank you.

And if you are tired of people telling you that you must then...I say, come on out...the lack of water's fine.  

Popcorn...

She dug into the bag of popcorn searching for those perfect almost popped kernels of popcorn. Or would it be barely popped? Either way, those were her favorite. Just the right amount of crunch without being too much. She had tried to figure out how to pop just those types of kernels. But you couldn't really plan for a whole pan of barely popped corn. It was always going to be either a few slightly popped and whole lot of unpopped kernels or a lot of fully popped kernels with a small handful of slightly popped. 

No matter how you tried it was always going to be only a small handful of the ones she really liked the most. 

Maybe that's why she liked them the most. Because you were always only going to get a few. Never enough to get tired of, always just few enough to make you think you were getting something special. A surprise gift. 

Except she never left them for a surprise. She always dug through the bag searching them out. Sometimes she dumped the whole bag onto a cookie sheet so she could sort them out and get all of them. Leaving the fully popped ones for someone else. Or just tossing them out if she was the only one around. Why save them after she had the ones she really wanted?

She had always been like that. When there were toys in cereal boxes she always shoved her hand in and dug around to get it right away, and then left the cereal for her siblings. She didn't even really like cereal. Just the toy. She ate the top of the cupcake and left the base.  The base was usually kind of crumbling and bland. Once you didn't have frosting the cake part wasn't that great. She only ate the edges of brownies and the center of the cinnamon roll. Someone else could have the rest. Why bother with the lesser things when you knew what you liked? When you knew what you wanted?

She was not a "journey" person. She was all about the destination. 

Give me the good stuff. And give it to me right away. 

Maybe that's why she liked the barely popped kernels. Because they didn't wait around either. Only cooked long enough to barely pop. 

Or maybe she was spoiled and little selfish.

Or maybe she was a little shallow. 

Or maybe she just knew what she liked and everyone else was too busy trying to figure out what they should like, or what was polite to like. 

She already knew. 

And it was the barely popped kernels. The ones that had just started to crack open. The ones with some bite to them. The ones that you only got a small handful of every time you made popcorn. 

________________________________________

This is one of those process pieces. I know she is going to be in a story at some point. I don't know her story yet. I don't know her name yet. But I already know how she eats snacks. Sometimes that's what happens. I get an idea for a person in my head. A snippet of them. And then I spend some time waiting for them to tell me some more. What is the story?

Odds are when she shows up you won't recognize her. Unless part of her story is around her snack choices. But it might not be. But this is part of who she is. Part of what makes her tick. And so I have her in my head now. Rummaging around a bag of microwave popcorn looking for the little barely popped kernels. 

And I'll wait for the rest. Because she has something to tell me. I just don't know what it is yet. 

Earthy...

She was 10 when she discovered not everybody could taste the copper pennies. 

She was 13 when she found out that camping on the high mesa made her sick. 

She was 16 when she understood that the history lesson she was being taught did not match the history she knew to be true.

The one that tasted of copper pennies in her mouth. The one that was so thick on the mesas that it made her ill. 

She was 18 when she had to laugh at herself because she had always thought the red clay was red from the blood that had soaked into it. 

She had to laugh. To herself. Because it wasn't funny. Not really. And especially not to the people who couldn't taste the copper pennies in their mouths.

When she was in college, away from home, hoping to get away from the copper pennies and red clay, she found that the land in the South was also red clay and copper pennies. 

When she went home with her roommate for Spring break and visited New England for the first time she couldn't enjoy the clam chowder her friend insisted was the best. So many pennies. 

She had traveled the States and found so few places that weren't red clay and copper pennies. The ground soaked everywhere with the history of the country. 

Some places were worse. The mesas at home. The fields and mansions in the South. Some places were just traces. A hint here and there. A small remnant. 

She was a sought after historian. There weren't many of those. But she gave speeches and guest lectures. She had a top rated Ted Talk and a YouTube channel with over a million subscribers.

"Professor Manus brings history to life. You can feel what she is talking about."

"I took Professor Manus' class in college and still subscribe to her newsletter to this day. I feel as though I know history instead of just learned about history."

"When Professor Manus speaks about our history you can almost imagine what it was like to be there. To really experience what was happening."

"We were visiting Wounded Knee and happened upon a guest lecturer. She told the story of the massacre and I swear I could smell the blood on the killing field. I have never been around someone like Professor Manus and I am not sure if I want to again. It was intense."

The fresh places were bad. Like an undercooked piece of meat shoved in to her mouth. Las Vegas. She hadn't paid attention to where she was walking and...she wasn't the first person to throw up in a trash can on the Strip, she wouldn't be the last. 

She did what she could to bear witness. 

To teach the history.

To maybe make a difference.

If you did more than hear it, if you felt it, if you tasted it, maybe you would work harder to end it.

Maybe.

Probably not.

The whole country was red clay and copper pennies.

And it seemed as though it always would be.

A never ending cycle. 

WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME??

So you all know I think the Universe talks to us. I really do believe that if you are at a crossroads in your life for whatever reason you get signs on which way to go.

Now, I can totally be persuaded that it's all just your own mind seeing the signs for what you really want to do. The thing that you know you need to pay attention to if you'd just get out of your own way. But I also could be persuaded that there is a guiding energy out there that we are all tapped into at all times but rarely focus on. 

But sometimes it gets a little confusing. 

I've been "going to quit Facebook" for almost as long as I've been on Facebook. I have walked up to the edge a few times. I've moved some contacts over to text messaging check-ins to make sure I don't lose track of them when I do pull the plug, I recently just made sure to ask for addresses from friends so I can contact them at least by mail when I do leave. I have been preparing to leave. 

For a decade or so now. 

It's so convenient for talking to multiple people in various locations. It's so wonderful when people post pictures of the kids, of their food (not being sarcastic, I love seeing your day to day stuff), of the flowers in their yard, of their vacation, and on and on...I love having that contact with people in a really easy place to have it. 

I love seeing so much of my friends. 

It's so terrible to see what people you know believe. Like the past few years have been rough. The "yeah, we aren't the same politically but it's not a big deal. We are all so much more alike than different after all." has been replaced more and more by, "how in the world can you believe that? That's just awful. Cruel. Stupid. Inhumane. Ridiculous." (take your pick). 

I hate having seen so much of people I thought were my friends. 

And it's thought they were in a lot of cases. Because the chasm is so wide that there is really nothing there to form the base of a friendship anymore. I don't buy into the whole "I don't unfriend people because of their politics" bullshit. I will totally unfriend you because of what your political beliefs say about you. Because I don't consider people who are casually cruel to be friends. 

So that brings me to the Universe.

I was thinking about dropping Facebook again. Politics is too much lately. It's a constant onslaught. And Facebook isn't helpful. The news organizations are looking for clicks so they aren't careful and considerate in what they post. Will it stir shit? Then run it! People aren't good at nuance in discussion. Which really makes me crazy, because it's written. You have TIME to craft an argument. You have RESOURCES right there in another tab you can research to make sure what you are posting is true. And we've all curated our own feeds and friend lists so much that it's an echo chamber of "oh you're brilliant and right" even when you aren't. I so cherish my friends who can tell me, yeah, no, this isn't right without being dicks. (Friends and family considering it's most often Christopher who is telling me something new that I haven't considered in my old attitudes)

So while I was pondering this I was doing a workout series on iFit. The trainer for the series I was doing is kind of a goof. In a good way. Simple. Now, I know, he was talking about fitness and training so it wasn't a deep sort of conversation sort of place, but still. You kind of got the idea that he's frothy all the time. And he said he doesn't really pay attention to a lot of things because he just chooses to be happy. Why not be happy? And I see that with other people too. Why not ignore politics if it makes you unhappy? Why not just stay uninformed so you can be happy? Hmm...

BUT while I was doing that series I was reading a book on challenging yourself more. Like, you are unlimited. You NEED to be doing more. Challenge yourself. Put yourself out there. Push those boundaries. From those who much is given much is expected sort of thing. And to not do more is just some weak ass shit. 

And in that book she talks about your sphere of influence. We all have one. Even when you don't think you do, you do. Your handful of friends on Facebook, for instance, or Instagram, or Twitter, or TikTok or...all of that is your sphere. And if you have one, and we all do, you have a responsibility to speak to them. And you all know I've gone back and forth about that here. Like, how much is too much to blog about? I know I started with more people reading this than I have now, which is crazy considering how few people read this...but I know my political rants have turned people off. And I've thought about not doing them. And I've talked about not doing them. But...

I have a voice and should use it right? And I'm not comfortable in a crowd. So this is my circle of influence. This is my space to make a difference. To post about politics. About religion. About personal stories. And then fiction for fun. 

So...what should I do? Just disengage and be happy or keep pushing and using my voice because it's important that we leave this world better off than we found it in whatever way we can?

And while I was doing that the mediation series I was trying out was all about happiness. And that you should do what makes you happy...while not doing anything that could be damaging to others. 

So what does that mean??

And I don't know.

I think I'm just where I started.

I really don't want to be angry at everything. 
I am really tired of spinning wheels in arguments where everyone has staked out their spot and won't move, facts be damned.
I am too old to tilt at windmills.
I cannot sit back and stay quiet when I see something I disagree with.
I really do feel like the right combination of mouth noises, or keystrokes could change a mind. 
I feel helpless when I don't do anything, and that's the worst feeling, right next to helpless when I do. 

So I guess I keep doing what I've done until I get a better answer.

I won't argue with someone who isn't genuine in their desire to learn something new. Those people are hidden or unfriended. I just don't have room in my life for that. 

I won't let something slide if I disagree, even if it's with someone I normally agree with. Especially if it's with someone I normally agree with. That's an opportunity for one of us to see something different and change for the better. And I'd love it if it was me. 

I won't spend all of my time reading things that don't matter.

I will try and figure out what those things are. 

I am just going to be confused about what I should be doing for awhile. 

I think that covers it...

Thanks for the answers, questions, misdirection and guidance, Universe...you've been SUPER helpful.

You Are What You Eat....

 ...and apparently I am making everyone miserable. 

Or I was at least.

Or something like that.

Okay, so back to the food wrap up blog I've been going to write, and have written bites of in other blogs. (so to speak)

I'm going to start at the beginning so sorry for the redundant part, but this way I know I've covered it all and my head can dismiss the "pending" file.

This past year my joints have started to really bother me. I thought my arthritis had just really spread and I was just looking at a new normal for me. I first was diagnosed with osteo in my knees almost a decade ago. They are loud and grindy, but after I got some physical therapy and a set of exercises to do to strengthen everything around them they really weren't that big of a deal. A little swelling when the weather changes or when I walk ten miles at Disney, but not that big of a deal really. 

But this past year my hands and feet were really in on the action. To the point where in the morning I'd stall as long as I could in bed before taking a deep breath and stepping out. Those first few steps were painful. And the knuckle joint on my pointer finger on my left hand was the worst. I couldn't bend my finger due to the swelling. By 10 or so in the morning everything would be loosened up enough to just be painful but not super painful and swollen. I was making plans for the doctor's visit when the pandemic cleared. Though if I had mentioned to Brent how sore everything was I am guessing that visit timeline would have been moved up. 

Well, as most of you know, I had been looking at doing Michael Symon's elimination diet last year when we got home from Disney World, but ended up putting it off due to the difficulty in finding things at the grocery store. I didn't want to try and do something that required specific foods if I couldn't get those things. So I pushed it off. Which was the right call, it would have been hard to do this last year.

Right now you are saying, (or I imagine you are saying) Wait? You said the pain got really bad THIS year, why were you going to do the diet LAST year? Well, because originally the plan was to see if Brent was having a reaction to certain foods. We have thought for years that he must have some food sensitivities but he had never wanted to do an elimination diet because it didn't bother him enough to do one. So I was finally just going to do it and see for myself. But then when I had so much joint pain this year it was an easy sell to see if either of us had issues. Which I was sure that I didn't. 

The odd thing with Michael Symon's diet is he didn't eliminate nightshades. Which are a really common inflammation trigger for people. As I discovered. I had rearranged his meal plan a little and ended up grouping the nightshades together about 5 days in, after not having any. I had an almost instant reaction. Face got itchy, hives on my chest, tight breathing, an allergic reaction like someone had slipped me some fennel! And then the next morning, swollen and painful joints. Well, hell. So I cut out nightshades from the remainder of the elimination process and put them on the list to add back in, one at a time so see if it was ALL nightshades or just SOME nightshades.

So at the end of the 10 days I started to add things back in. Meat, pretty clear, though it's best if I don't eat chicken two days in a row. Who knows? Then dairy. And, man, I was so worried about dairy. What was I going to do if cheese or sour cream triggered a reaction? I love dairy. But clear. Which makes sense, they say Northern Europeans have been with the cows (not like BEEN WITH the cows, but been cattle people, dairy farmers) for eons so glow in the dark me wasn't likely to have issues with dairy. I was feeling pretty good. Figured it might be eggplant that was the issue for me but otherwise I'd be fine. 

Went on to wheat and...what the fuck? I LOVE bread. This is not possible. I always eat bread. But so painful. So no bread. Maybe pasta will be fine. No pasta. How about sourdough because a lot of people can eat wheat once it's been fermented a bit so...no. No. No. NO. Pay attention here, I'm telling you no! So I'm gluten free now. And funny thing, and PAY ATTENTION thing for me, when we did Atkins years ago when we stopped I felt really ill when we first started eating bread again. I wrote it off to having not eaten it for awhile my body was just having to readjust. No. No that wasn't it. It was that I shouldn't eat bread. 

On to the nightshades and...potatoes, those are innocuous right? So plain and easy and NO! Holy shit, that's bad! Tomato? No. Bell peppers? Are you fucking kidding me right now? I said no! Green chile? Well...okay. You can have a little of this, but pay attention because I mean a little. Sometimes. Not every day. And definitely not every meal every day. So it's now a sometimes accompaniment. I've used chile powder as a seasoning and it's okay too. Just a little. I can feel that it could go south pretty quickly. So...a little. 

No bread, no nightshades. Holy shit. 

Alcohol? Can I drink to numb the pain? Well, a little. But not much. Which is actually fine. And I think just an indication of how little we actually drink. I can feel it the next day in my workout if I have a drink the night before, but it's just a bit of sluggishness, not the reaction like gluten and nightshades get. 

Sugar? Yeah, sugar is the same as it's always been. It's just not good for you as a rule to do added sugar. I don't have a specific reaction to it, but I know how much better I've felt overall since we cut WAY back on it and I know that when I was eating more of it during the early pandemic baking frenzy I started to feel lousy so...limit the sugar. 

No bread, no nightshades. Holy shit. 

Yeah, that's the big takeaway. Brent is fine, pretty much. Tomatoes aren't good for him. Which we had always kind of thought. Just confirmed it. He's not really heartbroken because he doesn't care for tomatoes. 

He is following my restrictions though. He doesn't think it's fair for him to be able to eat tortillas when I can't. Or have a hamburger bun. Or a slice of pizza. Or... (sigh) Honestly I feel like it's a slow motion car wreck. I will think about some food, OH! I can get...and then it's like, oh no, I can't. I can't have that again. Unless I want to pay for it the next day. 

And I am sure sometimes I will. In fact I know I will at least once more. When we go back to New Mexico to wrap up the one last thing in Ann's estate I'm going to eat at least a little of my foods. I didn't get a chance to prepare for the last time being THE LAST TIME. So... And part of me thinks if I eat it and feel bad immediately I will tie it together and won't miss it so much. Yeah, I don't really believe that either but it's what I'm going to do.

It's been a learning curve. A lot of label reading. A lot of recipe searching. Things are more complicated. I can't just buy gluten free breads because most of them are made with potato starch so I have to be careful of that. I made pizza last week and the first thing I had to do was make my own flour blend, and THEN make the pizza. I have probably a dozen different flours in the pantry right now, brown rice, sweet rice, almond, cassava, oat, on and on. I was going to make a quiche for dinner tonight and backed out when I looked at how long I needed to make the crust. Just the crust. None of it is simple. And part of that is just because I'm not used to it just yet. I'm relearning how to cook. What a "good" dough looks like. How things are supposed to blend. It's all different. 

But I feel better. 

A lot better. 

So much so that I'm realizing my baseline for a very long time has been not well. I cannot even imagine how great I would have felt when I was younger if I had realized I shouldn't eat all of the things that were the bottom base of my pyramid of foods. 

I still have some pain in my joints and there are still mornings where I'm a little stiff, but it's not bad at all. I'll still talk to my doctor about it at my annual exam. Because I'm kind of worried that it's rheumatoid arthritis and that's not something I should have and not know about. But I don't have redness or heat in the joints, so who knows...but no matter what I will talk to the doctor about it. I'm just glad I found out that something I was doing was making it worse and it's something that I can control. 

And here is the other lesson part.

The universe smacking me down a bit. 

See...I have some friends that have serious food allergies and reactions. And I've always accepted that they do. That they know that they can't eat bread, or garlic, or nightshades or shellfish or whatever it is that's making them not feel well...but.... I have rolled my eyes so hard at so many people who are "gluten intolerant." Like it was very trendy for awhile to blame every health issue you had on gluten. Skin problem? Gluten. Digestive issue? Gluten. Overweight? Gluten. Bad credit? Gluten. 

I read once that gluten intolerance is a rich white lady disease. When you are poor you don't have food allergies and intolerances. You eat what you get and you're fine. And that kind of resonated with me. Like people were making up issues. 

Even though I KNOW people who really do have food issues and I KNOW that they are serious. But that's the people I know. Those strangers? Psht...fakers. 

And now here I am. Rich white lady diseased gluten intolerant, with a side of nightshade incompatibility...

Honestly, I am chagrined. Humbled. Ashamed. 

For everyone that I didn't believe and rolled my eyes at...I am so sorry. I should have been better about it and I wasn't. I get it now. I totally do. It's a pain in the ass to have to look at every single thing on a menu and then maybe not order it anyway because you aren't sure how it's prepared. The 1,001 Sally like questions and modifications to a meal that have to be made just so you don't feel lousy after eating it. The challenge of even thinking about eating with other people (we have not had to do that yet because...pandemic) and what restaurant can you do that will have something you can eat? And no, Chinese food is not ever going to happen, but maybe Thai? 

I am so sorry, it shouldn't have taken a personal experience for me to have understanding for you, dear stranger questioning the waiter. I should have been better. And I absolutely apologize. I'd offer you a cookie to make up but...you know...

So life lessons. Don't sit in judgment over other people who you think are being a bit ridiculous. Because they might not be. And even if they are being ridiculous, it's not your place to judge them. Just let them not eat the bread because it's trendy not to eat the bread, or because if they eat the bread they will have to take a deep bracing breath before they step out of bed in the morning. 

And that's a wrap on the food blog finally. 

Sort of. 

I mean, the whole reason why I couldn't sit down and write it is because it's totally official now. Now it's all out there. If I eat gluten or nightshades I will feel lousy. Those are things that are not part of my diet now. Just need to keep wrapping my head around that and knowing that Cake and Compliments month this year will be things like.. Oh how lovely, I cannot even tell that this cake is made with sawdust and sadness....

Just kidding. 

Mostly. 

(and just as another reminder as to how hard this is at times, I ate some Nacho Cheese Doritos today. GLUTEN FREE! YAY! And cheese is fine so YAY! But...hey...you know what? There is tomato powder and red and green bell pepper powder in them and so now my hands are swelling and I'm starting to feel a bit off...tomorrow morning will probably not be that great. Good news is that I didn't eat many of them so... but ugh, read all the label, the whole thing, never make assumptions about ingredients or just check for one thing)

Stripes...

One stripe of black, one stripe of purple, one stripe of black. She held out her hand to admire her nails. Maybe she should paint an iridescent layer on top? Something to really catch the light. She did love a good sparkle. 

One stripe of black, one stripe of purple, one stripe of black. She brushed out her hair. Maybe she should braid it. Mix the purple into the black. Get a zig zag of color going down her back. 

She looked over her closet. Should she wear the black or the black today? She chose the black.

Black jeans, black cap sleeve t-shirt with the deep V neck, black boots with silver buckles. 

Black eyeliner, black mascara, purple lipstick. One stripe of black, one stripe of purple, one stripe of black. When you had a signature look, you had a signature look, after all.

She had been homeschooled and so had missed that time during middle school and high school where all anyone wanted was to look like everyone else. She had always just wanted to look like herself. Her mother had encouraged it. Her father had...

Well her father had left shortly after she was born so she didn't know what he wanted exactly. Her mother only talked about him sparingly. Her mother had loved him at one time. She wanted her to understand that. That he wasn't a bad man, he was just not the man she had hoped he would be. But sometimes people aren't. Sometimes people can't be who we need them to be but that doesn't make them bad. Just human. 

She had overheard her aunt saying he had wanted her to look like him, and she didn't, so he took off. Which when she was younger had confused her. After all she looked just like her mother, and he obviously thought that was just fine. When she got older she understood. Fuck the patriarchy.

Though maybe that wasn't fair. 

Maybe he knew he was too weak to stay. To deal with all that being her father would entail. Maybe he actually really did them all a favor by understanding that what she would need was strong role models and he wasn't. But she didn't really believe that. She didn't think she was being unfair. The way her aunt rolled her eyes whenever his name was mentioned let her know. She really believed if she had looked more like him, or like him at all, he would have stayed. 

If she had been born with blonde hair and blue eyes and little pink nails with perfect white half moons. 

But she hadn't. 

One stripe of black, one stripe of purple, one stripe of black. 

She was her mother's child. No hiding it at all. 

Where Did the Week Go?

I was on a bit of a roll this month with writing. Then...well...I wasn't. 

I didn't write on Friday last week for some reason and BAM! that was it. Nothing all this week. Well until today. 

And it's weird because I "wrote" a half a dozen blogs in my head at different points in time I just never actually committed them to this space. Which is a real bummer for you, because they were brilliant. Honestly, I do my best writing in my head.

But I never actually sat down and typed. Today I am. And of course all of the brilliant things are gone...

I have a piece kind of bopping around about religion and children but it feels too heavy for a sunny Friday afternoon. 

And it is sunny. So pretty. We are going to be in the 80s this weekend, which is crazy warm! It won't last, thank goodness, and hopefully we'll get some more rain soon as it's been way too dry. But for now it's nice. 

It's also nice that when I pulled out my summer clothes and put on an outfit it fit. Always nice to reach into the back of the closet and not come out with something that has been tailored by the bitchy elves. In fact, it's a little big...not much, but a little is still nice. 

And tomorrow Brent and I get our first doses of the vaccine. Super looking forward to that. Or well, maybe not the getting the vaccine part but the six weeks from now we will be good to go part. I'm not actually sure how much will change in our day to day lives, but at least we will have the peace of mind that we are protected. Right now Oregon is having another surge of infections so it can't come soon enough for me. 

I'm already starting to think of the things I want to do when we are done. Exciting things like, a dentist appointment! A chiropractic appointment! A PEDICURE! Also we want to get the ceiling fans and vent fans in the bathroom replaced so having that done without panic over workers being in the house will be nice. I'll just have the normal amount of hating having strangers in the house to deal with. :-)

I'm also hoping that once we are vaccinated and I'm feeling a little more peace of mind about that it will free up the part of my head that seems to be stuck in the pandemic mode. That part that is keeping me from focusing on anything else for any length of time. Like writing. And reading. Instead of sitting down and reading for long blocks of time (which is my preference) it's taking me weeks to get through books. I've gone from 2 to 3 books a week to maybe 2 books a month. And forget reading one book at a time. Which, to be fair, I normally have one fiction and one non-fiction book going but now it's like 4 or 5 that I've started and read a little bit here, a little bit there. I keep trying to focus, and I find myself staring at the wall, or thumbing through my phone. I just can't get my head to stop. 

I'm hoping that changes soon. 

I'm blaming the pandemic but honestly, it could be part of the menopausal nonsense as well. Or a little bit of both. 

But I'd like it to stop.

Oh, and did I ever circle back about the elimination diet stuff? Let me go check...okay, back. I sort of handled it in the March Monthly wrap up. So basically, I started it as almost a lark, an oh lets see, maybe I'll even lose some weight, but I honestly didn't really believe it would show anything. Wait...let me put this on hold and do an actual blog about it. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow but there are some things that are BIGGER LESSONS that I do want to touch on so I'm going to hold off. Just remind me if I don't write about, okay?

Whew, now I've shifted the responsibility to you so I feel much better about that. 

And I think that wraps up the brain dump portion of the day and now on to deadheading a bunch of pansies...

Not a metaphor. Really going to tidy up my flowers. 

Enjoy your weekend. Stay safe. Keep wearing your masks. Keep your distance. And get your vaccine when you get the chance.

(I was going to say when you get your shot, but that seemed confusing)

Break the Habit...

She had sworn she wasn't going to do this anymore. She had even stopped for a long time. Or for a time at least. But she had sworn she wouldn't do it anymore. 

And yet, here she was. Parked across the street and down a few houses. Sitting low in her car. Watching the house. So far there had been a UPS delivery, a Fed-Ex delivery and the mail had come. It had been a busy morning. She could just hear the small sighs of irritation each time the doorbell rang. He would have been in the flow. Working on something. Maybe on a call. Then he'd have to stop and take the delivery. If she had been there she would have done it for him. She would have waited by the door or on the porch and kept a watch out to catch the delivery person before they rang the bell. Just so he wouldn't be disturbed.

She would have protected his work space and time. Kept things quiet for him. Then she would have made him lunch. Something he could eat either at his desk if he was busy, or out on the back patio for a nice break. Get some fresh air. Stop staring at a computer screen. Maybe even take a walk around the neighborhood for a nice change of pace.

If she had been there instead of here in her car. Across the street and down a few houses. 

She knew she shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be doing this. He had asked her not to anymore. It made him uncomfortable. Even though she didn't do anything but watch. Just sit quietly in her car. Maybe cry. But it's not like he could hear her crying from way over there. And it's not like he ever paid attention to her crying even when she was closer. But still, he had asked her not to do it anymore. And then he had the officer ask her. So here she sat, in her rental car, across the street and few houses down. Sitting low in the car so he couldn't see her. 

She hoped the neighbors weren't watching. How embarrassing that would be for him. If they knew he made her hide in a rental car like some sort of stranger. She would hate that for him. If she were there she would take the neighbors some cookies and maybe have them over for a BBQ this weekend. Just to show how friendly she was. How friendly they were. How perfectly normal everything was. But she wasn't there. She was here. In a rental car. Across the street and a few houses down. Sitting low in the car. 

She was wondering what he was working on today. Thinking about how brilliant he was. How handsome he had looked when he answered the door for the deliveries. She thought the shirt he was wearing might be new. It was a lovely shade of green. It would make his eyes really stand out. His eyes were that shade of green that sometimes looked gray. But if he was wearing that particular shade of green they looked like deep velvet. Lush eyes you could get lost in. It was a good color on him. If she had been there she would have bought him a few shirts in color like that. Maybe a polo and a button down. And some in gray as well to bring out that out more. If she had been there she would have bought him things in those colors. But she wasn't. She was here. In a rental car. Across the street and a few houses down. Sitting low in the car so no one could see her. 

Even though there was no one looking. 

She sat up. There was a car pulling into his driveway. Oh that wouldn't be good. Someone just stopping by? While he was trying to work? He would be flustered and upset and lose his flow and the whole afternoon would be shot. She thought about running over and intercepting them before they could get out of the car, just to let them know they should wait and come back after 6:30 or so, when he normally shut down for the evening. Or maybe just call over the weekend. Or call his service. He had an answering service just so the phone wouldn't bother him while he worked. He screened all of his calls. All of them. Not just hers. All of them. 

But she couldn't risk him seeing her in his driveway. He had asked her not to watch the house anymore. And she couldn't say she was just driving by. He didn't believe that. Not anymore. Please go away, please go away. She thought as hard as she could at the car in the driveway. She knew they couldn't hear her thoughts, but maybe they would just feel like they should leave. Thoughts and words do have energy, you know. They do come from your brain which is run by nothing but electrical impulses after all. So it made sense that everything you thought would send out a wave of energy. But the cars probably blocked it. Hers and theirs. So she watched helplessly as they got out of the car.

He must have seen them pull up because he was already opening the door and on the porch. She watched. The woman from the car practically ran to him. He was hugging the woman. They were laughing. He wasn't upset at all. But wait, the woman was walking back to the car, maybe he just looked happy? Maybe he told the woman to leave? The woman opened the trunk and pulled out a small bag. A suitcase. 

She rolled down the car window to look closer. Was it his sister maybe? Or his cousin? No, his cousins were all men. His sister was blonde and this woman had dark hair, but maybe his sister had dyed it. She was practically leaning out of car window now. No. That is not how you would greet your sister. He was kissing the woman. Right there on the porch. What if the neighbors saw him? What would they think about him taking this woman into his house? With an obvious plan to stay, at least for the night. What would they think about that?

They went inside the house. She stayed in the rental car, across the street and few houses down. She rolled up the car window and slunk back down in the seat. 

She had done what he asked. 

She had done what the officer had asked.

She had given him space. 

She had stopped calling. Even though he never took her calls. Not since the beginning. Not since he had hired the service. And she KNEW they knew who she was. She could hear it in their tone when she left a message. Like they pitied her. Or worse. Like they hated her. She could imagine them just throwing away the messages. Never even giving them to him. Just crumpled and tossed to the side. 

She had stopped sending packages that he would just mark return to sender and she would get back. Crumpled. Torn. Abused really. Not even looked at to see what thoughtful things were included. The handmade gifts. The expensive purchases. Just black slashes of writing, Return to Sender then tossed back at her. 

Torn. Dirty. Abused. Mistreated. 

It wasn't fair. 

She had done nothing to deserve that. She had been his greatest fan. His biggest supporter. 

And now? 

Now she was in a rental car, across the street and a few houses down, sitting low in the car so nobody could see her. 

She hadn't even rented the car in her real name. 

Nobody knew she was there. 

There was no way for anyone to know she had been there. 

She had sworn she wouldn't do this anymore. 

Nobody knew she was even there. 

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Universe Tests...

So I wrote about the What if I'm wrong? approach to arguing online last week and then this week I've been tested over and over to try and see that through. 

Mostly I've been walking away from arguments because...well...I'm not wrong. 

And I know, I know, that's totally against what I was talking about, but I'm going to give you frameworks so you can see what I mean.

Two different times I've stayed out of arguments online because the basic premise is your facts are wrong because the sources you are using don't agree with me.  Ummm...well...

One was around politics. And I've seen it a few times. It's about the non-existent voter fraud. The argument is that there was massive fraud and the way you can tell is by the lack of proof of voter fraud. What? You have to do the head shake on that. Instead of the lack of proof of voter fraud showing that there wasn't voter fraud they have decided that actually shows MORE fraud. I guess if there had been no fraud the proof of the fraud would be really clear? It just doesn't make any sense. But they say it like it's a deep and solid revelation. Like it's a mic drop moment. The voter fraud was so rampant that they even covered up the evidence of the fraud. BOOM! See?

You cannot argue with that. I learned that lesson arguing with anti-vaxxers. No matter what you would show them they used it as proof of their argument. The lack of proof was just proof of a vast conspiracy. 

So instead of saying, well what if I'm wrong and coming at the argument trying to understand how the lack of proof means that something happened instead of a lack of proof showing that nothing happened I walked away.

The second is the same sort of thing. A friend has been researching and learning about a subject. And twice people have told her that the research she is doing isn't good because her sources aren't telling her the opposite of what she is learning about. That the only way to prove something isn't biased is if it gives a positive review of something that is clearly negative. We've both-siderismed our way into this sort of nonsense. That somehow we must always include both sides of an argument even if it's not appropriate. It would be like saying that the report you just read that throwing a plugged in toaster into a full bathtub is dangerous ISN'T valid and is clearly biased because it didn't mention the times you could throw a plugged in toaster into a full bathtub and be fine.

Now I will grant that what she is studying has two sides. But she already knows one side, and is learning about the other. And the side she knows about didn't teach her anything about what she is learning either. But somehow that's not an issue. The only issue is that her new studies aren't parroting the old lessons. Well, of course they aren't. That's not what they are teaching. 

So instead of saying, what if I'm wrong and actually the only way to learn something new is to say that the thing you already know is the right thing I've walked away. 

Because I'm not wrong. It's a nonsense argument. 

I've also had to walk away on two different arguments where there was no real chance for me to say what if I'm wrong because there was no actual real attempt at a valid argument made. Instead of explaining why they believed what they did they retreated into "that's just my opinion and I get to have that." Well, yeah, you do. Nobody is saying you don't. But why do you think that? Why do you believe that to be true? I've told you why I disagree. Not just I DISAGREE in all caps so you really understand that I disagree, but what specifically I think about that issue so you can see WHY I disagree. Now your turn...but no. No explanation, just IT'S MY RIGHT TO DISAGREE! Okay, sure. Nice chat. 

I have talked before about growing up the black sheep in my family. Not believing what everyone else did. And how that actually helped me define what I believe, and why, and how to talk about it. I think if you can't defend what you believe there is a good chance you don't actually understand why you believe what you do. You are just parroting talking points, or channeling old patterns someone else has given you. Until you understand what it is you believe, why you believe that, and you can explain it to someone else I think you don't really know what you believe. 

What if I'm wrong? Well, you are going to have to give me a reason to think I might be. And just posting in all caps that you have a right to your feels isn't that. 

So I walk away. 

I see you, Universe, showing me the what if I'm wrong part about my what if I'm wrong take on arguing. Well played. 

(also quick update on the sleep program, I decided to not do it. I can always go back to it sometime if I change my mind but I don't think it's healthy for me to focus so much on NOT sleeping)

Sleepy Time...

Intel sent out this sleep program (Sleepio) as a benefit for their workers. It's supposed to help you conquer your insomnia. So, of course, Brent gave it to me to try. 

It's a six week program. Each week you get a new lesson and new things to do and you are supposed to be a great sleeper by the end. 

Today was week three and I'm trying to decide if I keep trying to use the program or give up now. They got me at the beginning with making you promise to commit to it all so there is the part of me that is like, I agreed to try this. But then there is the other part of me that is like, I clicked a button on a computer screen, I didn't swear a blood oath.

So here is my challenge with the program. 

I am an insomniac. But I'm a lifelong insomniac. I don't really stress about it. I mean, I'd like to sleep more. I've tried a ton of things to sleep more. But my not sleeping isn't because of stress. I don't lay in bed and count the hours I'm awake and think about how horrible it is that I'm not sleeping. I have a routine. I am relaxed. I am very still. I'm calm. And I don't focus on it. 

But I've had to focus on the amount I'm not sleeping a lot more than I normally do. For instance I don't clock watch. But with this program I need to know when I go to bed, when I start to try to fall asleep, how long it takes me, how many times I wake during the night, how long I'm awake during those times, when I wake up and when I get out of bed for the morning. It's a lot of clock watching. And then you do daily logs every morning marking all of those items and they give you a sleep efficiency score. 

And now this week is what he calls the hardest part of the program but the most important part. Sleep restriction. To get to a 90% sleep efficiency, being asleep 90% of the time you are in bed, you restrict your sleep time way down to try and compress all of the hours you are asleep so you don't get the wakeful cycles.

For me (they use the daily logs to personalize) that means going to bed at 11:30 and waking up at 5:45. Every day. Once I hit 90% for a week solid then I can start adding in 15 minutes a day to my in bed time to aim for more sleep each night. But for now, in bed at 11:30 no earlier. Up and out of bed at 5:45, no later. 

My issue is that I get to sleep really easily at night. We go to bed early because I am not a night owl at all.  And we get up early. The 5:45 part isn't the hard part for me. That's the normal weekday time to get up. On weekends we sleep in all the way to 6:15. I know...crazy! At least the cats think it's crazy... But anyway, I fall asleep easily. I go to bed around 9, I read until 9:15 or so and then I am asleep by 9:30. That part of my sleep works really well. It's the middle of the night multiple times waking that I'd like to change.

Which the Sleepio program says they can change by doing this sleep restriction thing. 

Oh and with the sleep restriction no TV and no reading in bed. Which Brent watches TV to wind down to fall asleep and I read. So the things we do to get to sleep they say no, you can't do that. Only sleep and sex in bed. And I always kind of laugh at that, they have to add sex because people would revolt against any program that told them they could no longer have sex in bed. And also if you are awake for more than a quarter of an hour you get out of bed. Which a lot of insomnia suggestions include this. If you aren't sleeping get out of bed until you get sleepy. Which is all well and good, except when I've tried this in the past as soon as I get out of bed, that's it for the night. I'm done. I don't get sleepy again. I am tired, sure. But not sleepy. And now that we have the cats? As soon as I get out of bed they are going to be like, time to get up? Great! So it will mess with my sleep schedule, their sleep schedule and Brent's sleep schedule by proximity to us. 

So I'm not sure about it. I don't have to decide until bedtime tonight and I will ponder it in the back of my head all day. Thus this blog...

But I'm not sure. At 52 I've pretty much made peace with my wonky sleep patterns. Should I just keep that peace or try one last time to improve them? 

Hmmm...

What If I'm Wrong?

What if I'm wrong?

How is that for a good framing question to take with you in your day?

What if I'm wrong?

What if in every argument we have we approach it with the thought, What if I'm wrong? Would that change the way you argue?

And let me back up here for a second and say, I argue. I actually really hate the softer "discuss" framing. If I am trying to convince you of something and you are trying to convince me of something we are arguing our points. We aren't fighting, that's angry arguing. But we aren't just having a discussion either. We are trying to persuade the other. We are arguing. 

I'm super tired of the weasel words. We don't say argue. We don't say hate. (See above paragraph) There are things I hate. It's not violent, it may not even be super passionate hate, but I do use hate. I hate cooked peas. I hate being tone policed by people who want to tell me I shouldn't say hate. For the most part I don't hate people I don't know. I might hate what they've done, or say I hate a stance they have taken, but as far as the person? Usually don't hate them. But some I do. Some people have done nothing to me personally and yet, I still hate them for what they've done to others. And I am fine with that.

Another group of weasel words I don't like is all of the euphemisms for lie. Untruth, misrepresent, all of those. Now, there are times someone was mistaken. That's different. If you honestly thought something to be true and said it, it's not a lie. As long as you correct yourself when you find out you were wrong. If you keep saying the thing you were originally mistaken about AFTER you have had it pointed out that it is wrong then you are lying. I hate when people try to weasel out of saying someone lied. Lies of omission are lies. Lies to try and prove your point are lies. Taking a soundbite quote out of a paragraph of speech that then turns the soundbite into something different than what was intended, that's a lie. Now it could start out as being mistaken, we've all done that. Seen the soundbite and thought, What the actual fuck?? But then when reading or hearing the whole statement we are like, oh that's not at all what it seemed like at first. You weren't lying if you talked about it first, though you were careless and should know better, but if, once you know the context, you stick with the soundbite? It's a lie. 

SO...back to my original point. What if I'm wrong?

What if I keep that in my head when I'm arguing with someone. What if I'm wrong? What if something in these points you are making is going to change my mind?

Would we argue differently? 

I've seen it talked about before as arguing for clarity. Sort of the same thing. If you are arguing with someone with a different point of view, try for clarity, why do they think the things they think? Which is a good start. But what if instead of trying to figure out why they think what they do, what if you are wrong? What if what you think is the hard truth, isn't? 

Would you be more open to investigating their points?

I actually try to do this. I know some of you are shocked, you are like, what? You never act like you are wrong! You are a know it all! You are the WORST! And hey...slow down there, Chucky, I might be bad, but the worst? Wow...

Anyway...I actually read all of the information someone posts to back up their argument. I "do the research!" I listen to the speeches, I read the transcripts. I look into points that are made that I don't understand. But, sometimes, I'm just not wrong. And now I've confirmed that.

That's the real beauty of the What if I'm wrong? way of looking at things. Sometimes you will be wrong, but no matter which way it falls you will be more informed. You will know why people are saying nonsense. You will know what they think shows it isn't nonsense. And you get to decide if it's enough. If that backing data shows that you were wrong, or if it shows that nah, you weren't wrong. 

I will also say that there are people you cannot do this with. The argument of What if I am wrong? Because you've argued with them so many times that you know how it will go. The goal post movers, the ones who never back down from their original point no matter how many times you can show them that hey, what if you are wrong? The ones who post opinions of other people who agree with them as their proof. The ones who just want to argue with you until you are fighting. So for those, my typical stance is to not engage at all. 

I used to. I used to tilt at those windmills. And there are still times when something is said or posted that is just so egregious that I cannot ignore it, because if I did I'd be negligent (in my opinion) and then I go in. And I still read all of the things they post. And I still try to see their reasoning. And if I engage I try very hard to maintain that What if I'm wrong? stance. It's just very hard to do when they've shown me over and over again that I am not. 

What if I'm wrong?

Try it out. See how it feels. Does it make it easier to listen to others? Does it loosen your grip on your argument at all? Does it give you the space, and the grace, to argue differently? Instead of proving you are right, how about making sure you aren't wrong? Do you see the difference there or is that just me? Proving I'm right means bombarding you with facts and figures and OBVIOUS points. Making sure I'm not wrong means looking at your facts and figures and obvious points and seeing if they are actually facts and obvious points or if they are wishful thinking and nonsense. Or maybe not nonsense, but not enough to change my mind. 

Because sometimes we are both not wrong. Depending on what we are arguing about. Sometimes we are just seeing it differently. But if you need to lie about something to try and get me to see your side? Then the answer to What if I'm wrong? is clearly no. No, I'm not. 

And that's the Denise you all immediately thought about way up there about halfway through this blog. Seriously...the worst. 

But I didn't get there without looking at the other side. I just didn't find enough on the other side to make me change my mind. 

Which is even worse right? 

What if I'm wrong?

Don't Do It...

I was about to skip writing today. I mean, I have an easy (easier) goal of 6 fiction pieces for the month and that leaves only 6 other blogs I need to write for the month to stay on track and I have some banked so even then if I just skipped it it would be fine. 

But then I remembered past me whining about how I was finding all of these excuses not to write everyday, so many great excuses that poor Brent was like, "I can move my work set up out of your office so you can write." and I had to be like, "No, Dude! You're fine! I was literally using it as a lame reason why I wasn't writing, you aren't holding me back at all! And besides all that, my hobby does not take precedence over your actual job!" He's so lovely. 

But I was going to just skip it today. I did some other things that took some time. And I played with the cats. And it's a lovely day so I took a walk and enjoyed that. And then it was time to start dinner and...

Hey! There you go! I can order dinner in and skip cooking if I take the time to write instead. Nice.

So Brent is on a work happy hour, and I am writing with a drink next to my keyboard. I feel like I should be writing the next great American novel, but it's only one drink so you get a blog instead.

And not even a blog with a purpose. You get a meandering, this totally counts, blog. 

But it does totally count.

And it also keeps me from having a drink and then replying to Facebook posts that I have been studiously avoiding commenting on. There were two yesterday and one today that my fingers were itching to reply to, but I'm trying really hard not to do that right now. There will be a blog about my head space on this later, not today, because this is a cheater blog, but soon.

And I could have done a poem since it's poetry month, but I did two last month and Skippy might finally unfriend me if I do another poetry month. Though I will say that was one of the hardest challenges I set for myself. Aside from the weight ones, because we know I miss those all the time. The a poem every day and in a variety of styles was tough. More on Skippy than on me, but it was tough for me as well.

And hey...there's dinner being delivered. Early. Serves me right for trying to sneak out of cooking. Now I've got dinner a half hour before Brent will be ready to eat so it will be pretty gross by the time he gets to it. Dang it...

Maybe I should have had a drink and picked fights on Facebook instead...