Took a Turn...

So first off before the monthly recap, I got notice yesterday from Blogger that a blog I wrote was put behind a wall due to its sensitive nature. The wall is that you have to click that yes you understand that it's a great and terrible thing you are about to read before you can go in and read it so not that big of a thing but it also stands as a warning to me that I am almost, but not quite, violating Blogger standards. Makes me glad I've been printing out all of my blogs to keep hard copies just incase the next time they shut me down. 

The blog was from 2018. Blogger is a self regulated site, meaning that they don't use search words to peg blogs unless someone reading the blog reports it. The blog was about books and what you notice as an adult that you don't when you are younger and how freaking creepy it is that King did a particular scene in IT as a pivotal moment. And that he defends it TO THIS DAY. (I'm not mentioning the scene just in case the person that reported me for thinking King was icky is reading this as well) 

And that right there is part of the problem with our society. They are offended at what I was talking about and got it blocked when what I was saying is that King was being awfully creepy and not in a good creepy way. They got mad at the wrong thing. 

It's like in Montana where they sent the representative home and won't let her speak anymore because she said what the rest of them were doing was dangerous. It's like in Tennessee where they expelled the members because they spoke out about how what they were doing was dangerous and ignoring the will of the people they were supposed to be representing. 

People clutch their pearls and moan about decorum when they are wrong and know they are wrong. 

(Not saying that's what happened with my blog, just it fits with the pattern)

The representative from Montana is trans. She is WELL versed in trans issues. She's not being hyperbolic when she says people will die because of the anti trans legislation that is being passed. It's like what I talked about earlier this month, if you are upset about what I'm saying, about what she's saying instead of gasping and saying, "Oh she said I had blood on my hands!" Fucking look at the blood on your hands and understand how it got there!

The representatives from Tennessee are worried about people being shot. You are worried that they led a demonstration of other people worried about being shot. And the people that voted to expel them, and this is just fucking unbelievable, when they remonstrated them they claimed that they felt threatened. The people SPEAKING about guns made you feel threatened? Not the obscene amount of gun violence? Not the shootings, but the speaking? Oh please...

You see it all the time in real life and online conversations. The tone policing. Where you get dismissed because you aren't following decorum. You aren't being polite. You're not nice. 

You all know how I feel about nice. 

Not surprisingly I get tone policed all the time. I can, and do, often argue very calmly and watch my language and all of that "good" stuff. But I also often swear to make a point. I've had more than one person decide that my entire argument is invalid because I don't capitalize the word god. It's a willful ignorance that must be maintained in any way possible, and if that's tone policing that's what they'll use. If it's crying about a lack of decorum that's what they'll use. 

And, I get it, there is a point where you can say to someone, that's not an argument you are making, you're just being argumentative. There is a difference. Calling names and throwing mud and lies is not a valid way of making a point. It doesn't make any point except telling me that's all you are capable of. But when a trans lawmaker isn't allowed to speak on trans issues because she was honest yet those that called her out on it misgendered her and that's fine...well....

When three lawmakers protested the lack of action on gun violence and only the two black members were voted out and the white member wasn't? Well now let's add some racism to your lack of action as well. And yeah, they got BIG MAD when it was pointed out that kicking out two of the three was racist and how dare people call them racist instead of asking themselves why they only voted out the two black members and not the white one? I mean...I'm not saying you are racist, heavens no, I'm saying what happened sure looks pretty racist. Or it was totally racist. (clutch those pearls)

It's just tiring to see the party that complains about snowflakes and easily triggered people and safe spaces get all up in their feels about someone saying something accurate about what they are doing.

Get mad. I am a fan of getting mad. Obviously I live a good chunk of my life fairly mad now days. BUT GET MAD ABOUT THE RIGHT THINGS. And then when you are mad about the people dying, the people losing their health care, the people who don't get to decide with their doctors what treatment is appropriate for them, the parents who are in danger of losing their children because they understand a living trans child is a gift and a dead cis child is a tragedy...when you get mad about those things then start doing something about them. 

And not something like clutching your pearls and dabbing your tears because how dare someone say you weren't doing what you could to save lives. 

Fucking get out there and work on it. 
Time 
Money
Words
Support

Do something productive. 

Don't let them tone police you into silence. 

They do have blood on their hands. The anti trans legislators and the NRA bought and paid fors. A lot of blood. 

Shame on them.

Bad Medicine...

It's local election time. Right now we are voting on school board members in my district. If you've paid any attention lately you've seen how the conservosphere is coming for the schools. They are targeting what can and cannot be taught. They are pulling books and teaching materials that don't align with the conservative viewpoint. They are banning any talk of race or gender that makes them feel uncomfortable. And let's be clear their discomfort is that someone who is different than they are might be entitled to the exact same rights and power structure. Basically it's all about control at an early level.

One of the tactics is to run a full slate of their candidates. Vote for this block of people. They can get a majority who think alike in one election if they band together. And the organizations that are pushing these candidates forward provide the campaign materials and the talking points. And it's a school board so not many people tend to send out campaign materials in the first place so a lot of the time the only people you are even aware of are these super conservative candidates.

It's also a nonpartisan position. Meaning that you don't vote for a democratic candidate, or a republican, you just vote. Not that the people running aren't D or R, they are. The other thing is if you aren't aware of the current sanitized language they use you tend to think it sounds really reasonable. Last election cycle the talking point for the conservative candidates was all about not having more school closures. How it really disadvantaged our youth. 

It didn't work in a lot of areas around here. People were frustrated, sure, people wanted life to get back to normal, absolutely, but we were also pretty good about understanding that when things shut down there was a reason, and when they started back up with masks and vaccines there was a reason for that as well. And it wasn't that the government was trying to manipulate you into getting microchipped for...reasons. 

This time around the buzz words seem to be transparency, age appropriate, and parental control. You should know exactly what is being taught to your children, when, and you should have the final say in that. Which sounds fairly reasonable. You should know what your kids are learning. And if there is something there that you disagree with you should be able to have your say about it. But...

When they are pulling out any book that mentions a gay person, or not using the word racism when teaching about Rosa Parks, or talking about trade areas instead of mentioning that the "trade" that was happening was buying and selling of people. Well, now we are in to a different discussion. 

A friend just posted a story about a class in another state having their field trip canceled because there were actors playing the roles of men and women in the play so it was clearly a drag performance and that's not okay. 

It was James and the Giant Peach. 

Remember when if you didn't want your kid to go see a play you kept them home? Now they cancel it for everyone. I would have been livid if it had been my kid who got their field trip canceled because of one parent who doesn't understand acting. 

But things like that mean it's important to pay attention to school boards. And to know who is supporting that slate of candidates. And what groups like communities for sensible schools really mean by sensible. 

So this year when the postcards started arriving with their slate of candidates one name kept buzzing in my head. Why do I know that name? Has he run for other office before and he sticks out? 

I am terrible with names. I just am. When I meet people that I know I will be interacting with a lot I try to put their name in my notes program until I feel like I have it really down. Otherwise it's just gone. I know one set of neighbor's names here and I think two others, but I'm not sure enough about them to call them by their names instead of just wave and say hey. And we've been here a year. 

Terrible at names. 

So this guy's name kept buzzing. I knew I knew it, but I didn't know why I knew it. Until today when I sat down to vote. Opened my voters pamphlet and saw his name AND his photo. Oh..wow. That's my orthopedic doctor. He's a good ortho. I have no complaints. He calls me young lady, which is pretty sexist, but he's old enough and a good enough doctor and listens to me when I tell him what is going on so I let it pass. 

But I didn't vote for him. No way. No how. 

Because he's part of that slate, and not only part of that slate but the major contributor to the PAC that puts them up. He's been trying for a few years to get on the school board out here and to get "like minded" individuals to join. 

I hope he loses. I did my part to make sure he loses. 

Now I just have to decide if it bugs me enough that I have to find a new ortho who I don't know their political leanings. 

Brent says he can be a lousy candidate and a good doctor. And that's true. 

But...

I'll think about it. 

Back At It...

I hadn't worked out in a week. I've had a tweaky knee and a weird schedule. Lots of workers coming in and out of the house at various times. And so everything in my schedule has been moved around and shifted. Add to that needing to prepare for the work to be done. 

Part of the deal with the house is at the end of a year they go through and fix anything that needs done. Settling cracks, nail pops and such are included. But to do that I needed to go through, find them, and mark them. It took awhile. And then when the crew came in yesterday they went over everything with flashlights on their heads so they found even more. Not to brag but the head of the crew said they'd done a lot of the warranty work in the neighborhood and our house had the most finishing issues that needed fixed...

Okay, not really great, but at least they are taking care of them. And it really does make sense. Last April the house went from "This is not ready to close" to "Oh wow, they got it done" in record time. We had already had to fix the drip pan in the furnace because to get everything dry in time to paint they cranked up the heat to crazy high and basically baked the house. Which melted the drip pan. Which mean when the A/C started cranking and the condensation from that had nowhere to go it ran into the HVAC system and shut the whole thing down. Thank goodness for warranty coverage on that one as well.

So I took two days off at the end of last week to try and rest my wonky knee and then every day this week it was, TOMORROW, for sure I'll get a work out in tomorrow. And then tomorrow would become yesterday and still no workout. 

Today was my day. The only thing on my calendar was a quick look at the crawlspace to see what was going on down there with the drainage and if it needed fixed or not and then I would have the whole day to get other things done. Including a workout. 

Except it ended up not being a quick look. They were actually here to do the work. There goes the morning. 

Luckily for me, and unluckily for him, Brent had blocked out time in his schedule for a workout as well. But his workout gear was in the closet where the access to the crawlspace is and he didn't want to try to uncover it all from the tarps they had laid out. But since you had blocked it out anyway would you cat watch and cover for questions from the crew? 

So I got my workout in. 

Knee seems to be pretty okay. A little tweak at the very end, but nothing major. Shoulder, neck area is not happy from spending so much time looking up at the ceiling this week but hopefully I'll be able to find all of those trigger points on my own and get that knocked down. If not I'll try and find some time with Mari and have her fix me up. 

They finished up the crawl space while I was working out so when I finished it was on to the rest of the day. The bedroom and closet stink. I'm not sure if was just their uniforms were saturated or they were using it in our space but it smells like someone took a couple of cans of WD-40 and just sprayed them everywhere. We've got everything opened up and airing out but I decided to push my shower just a bit to give it a chance to smell a little less intense. Fine, I need to write anyway. But wait first I should start laundry since I haven't done that yet. And the house really needs to be vacuumed from the drywall work yesterday but I'd like to give the cats a moment to calm down before I do that but wait the floor in the bathroom has dirt and insulation that has to be swept up now before the cats get into it and what was I doing again?

Which made me laugh. 

Just finished that book on forming good habits and one of the most important things is good routines. Get into a habit of I do this then I do this then I do this. Eventually it becomes automatic. The full habit forms around the routine. And things get done. Screw up the routine and you wander from room to room thinking, Oh I need to do this, OH wait I need to this first. Oh wait...there is this thing that needs done...

But, I worked out today. So I'm calling it a win. 

Even if I know there is a growing list of oh another thing forming even as I type. 

Take the wins where you can find them and have a great weekend! 

Help Yourself #4...

Under the wire but done...

This month's self help book was a combination self help/brain science book. Totally fits in the pocket of the type of books I read obsessively in my 20s. 

This one was Good Habits, Bad Habits: The Science of Making Positive Changes that Stick

It was good. A lot of information in there on how habits are formed and how much of our daily life we do set to automatic. And that the complicated part is that it's a good thing, and also a problem. 

In my 20s I would have been getting a lot of this information as new information so I would have taken it differently I am sure. In my 50s I know that though a lot of the science is strong, some of the experiments they were citing actually have different reasons for why they worked. 

Take the famous marshmallow experiment. Where you put the marshmallow out and tell a child they can have that one now or wait for 15 minutes and they will get two. It was supposed to show self control or resilience or coping mechanisms. What they have discovered more recently is that a lot of it depended on the socio economic class of the children in the experiment. Kids who might have access to a whole bag of their favorite treats at home were much more able to resist the draw of the marshmallow right now than kids who don't even know for sure if dinner is going to fill them up. 

So then they follow these kids and see that the ones who are able to resist the marshmallow are more likely to be successful in life. Get higher grades, go to college, get good jobs. The kids who were weak willed and couldn't struggle. Except you know, they aren't weak willed, and the other kids aren't more resilient. It's a class thing. But books keep using it like it's an actual study on resilience instead of yet one more WE HAVE SEVERE INCOME INEQUALITY AND IT'S A FUCKING TRAP!

So yeah...

In my 20s I would have found the resilience argument to be fascinating. Not so much in my 50s.

It's also really interesting because I know a lot of the things they talked about and yet...I still am battling my Facebook habit, I still fight with the lack of desire to work out, I still want to eat more sugar than I know is good for me, and even when I can break the habit for a few days with the conscience decision making I stop. Which reinforces their argument on how hard it is to break habits. 

But...I also quit smoking all those years ago the first time I decided to quit. The average is over 30 times before it sticks. And I quit while Brent was still smoking so the cigarettes were in the house and all of the cues to smoke were still happening. Which disproves their argument that you have to change everything around the habit to break the habit, especially with a habit that is also and addiction. 

But it was good overall. And gave me a little bit of reinforcement to map out some strategies for changes I want to make. And how I have to be on top of those consciously for awhile before they stick. (Also, just so you know, that 30 days thing is a myth. Sometimes it takes that long, sometimes it takes fewer days, sometimes a lot more) And also, and here is the most important one, I need to find a why that is more specific than, because I should. 

I mean, I know I need to get my sugar consumption back under control. I know I'm walking a line here with my blood sugar amounts. I know that added sugar in general is not good for anybody. I know the positive changes that I experience when I'm watching my intake. HOWEVER...it's still not enough. That's all logic. When I am stressed out about something, or pissed off at yet another anti trans moment in our country, none of that is going to stop me from grabbing some Milk Duds. So I need different reasons. And I need different replacements. Because "just don't have them in the house" works for just a little bit until I break down and buy them and four other things because I deserve them, dammit. 

One of the other pieces I thought was super interesting in this particular book, one I wouldn't have noticed in my 20s, is how much self help stuff is geared toward making you better at work. A more efficient and happy little worker bee. The amount of daily life that is geared around perpetuating capitalism. I'm not sure that's self help or someone else helping themselves to your time, but whatever...

So habits. Time to form some new ones. 

Writing by the Numbers...

Friday's blog was the 76th of the year. That's a pretty good clip. But more importantly, for me, it is one more blog than I posted the entire year of 2016. 

There have been bad years in my life. Twenty twenty comes to mind immediately, though part of what made 2020 so bad was August of 2019 and not fully recovering from that before March of 2020 came and slammed us all into what the fuck land. And even though we had a little more tragedy than some, not as much as others, 2020 was bad for pretty much everyone. Or at least odd if it wasn't bad. There is no one you know that would say 2020 was just a year. 

But 2016? Yeah, people in the UK and in the USA could tell you that politically those were pisser years, but that happens. And enough people either don't care about things like Brexit or Trump that it wasn't universally bad. 

For me though, 2016 was bad. Again, to be fair it started in 2015. That was when I could feel the slide starting. When the darkness was creeping around the edges, but 2016 it hit full force. Enough that on my birthday in 2016 I planted my flag in the sand and said, this far, no further! #48isGreat. I was so tired of being miserable I was going to stop and that was that. And eventually I did, it wasn't immediate, that's for sure. 

Reading the end of year wrap up for 2016 and how many of my goals I missed, the ones around writing for the most part, and how I was counting it as a win that I was clawing my way out of the Le Brea Tar Pits and that's all that mattered. 

It was a bad year. 

When I am on the homepage for my blog it sticks out as a reminder that it was a bad year. Sandwiched between 185 and 140 blog counts 75 sits just petulant and pouty. And the only reason it got that high is that was the year I did a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month. So those count, sure, but they are short. Especially the days I did like three haiku and called it good. Thirty poems, and 45 other blogs. Thirty in April, 3 in May, 2 in June, 1 in July... It was a bad year. I only wrote one blog in November after the election. I mean, if anything should have gotten me writing you would think it would have been that, but instead it shut me down even harder. I had nothing to say about it or to so many people. Except fuck all of you fucking fucks. And that's not really a long blog. 

When it's already dark in your head and the world conspires to turn out the lights it gets bad. 

So Friday reaching 76 blogs was another marker that I'm no longer there. Even though it's been years since it's been that bad for that long there is always a shadow lurking. I know it. Brent knows it. Other friends know it. And we all watch out to make sure that it only lurks and doesn't settle in. Or at least doesn't hang out for very long.  

I keep working on the things that I know make it better. Eat right, work out, get outside when it's sunny. Fill my head with good books and good people. Turn off, block, push away anything that doesn't serve my mental health well. Pull in and surround myself with decent people. The warm cuddly blankets of humanity that protect you and comfort you. The deep philosophical book people. The ones that challenge the way you think and view the world. The comedians who are filled with laughter. These are my people. 

And so now I am pushing 80 toward my goal of how many did I say I was going to write again? And why is that so freaking high?? 

And I'm grateful. 

Trains...

She watched them come closer to her seat at each stop.

The train car had started out fairly full but as it made its way downtown more and more people got off and fewer and fewer got on.

But she was still there. And they were still there. Just moving closer to her at each stop.

She looked down at the cast on her arm and the brace on her ankle. Definitely giving off wounded animal vibes.

She had often wondered if this was part of reincarnation, coming up the ladder from animals. That some people had been predators in their past lives, and some had been prey. And that basic core personality didn’t change.

You could see it in almost every facet of daily life. Heads of companies definitely gave off predator vibes. Can’t we all just get along and love each other? Prey. Unless a predator found a way into a group and just said the words while picking off the most vulnerable.

Or maybe it wasn’t reincarnation but just basic human evolution. Some are predators and some are prey. Each generation starting with a mix of the two. The predators either enriching themselves with no care as to who they hurt or actually hurting others because they enjoyed it.

Prey tended to be hypervigilant. They didn’t always channel it correctly, sometimes it came out as anxiety. They were worried but they didn’t know why. Other times it seemed almost like paranoia.

Were they actually moving closer to her seat or were they just moving? Herd animals would all bolt if one of them freaked out over a sound and ran. Keep the herd together, stay in the center of the herd and you were less likely to get picked off. But what if you were already separated from the herd? What if you were the wounded and weak animal that couldn’t move as fast? Or the herd was leaving you at each train stop?

She looked around the car again. Now she had a decision to make. Should she stay on the almost empty train, just her and them, or get off at the next stop? The next stop was an underground station. No phone reception down there so no way to call the police for help. It was not likely to be busy at this time of day. If it were morning or evening rush hours, she might find a crowd there but at 1 in the afternoon it was most likely empty. Nobody getting on, nobody getting off.

Stay on the empty train. Five minutes until the next stop. Just her and them. Maybe they were just moving, not moving toward her. Or get off the train and see if they followed, 10 minutes at least until the next train came, but probably closer to 20 at this time of day. And that would only matter if someone on the train saw anything, or if someone got off. Again. Not likely.

Would they even follow her if she got off? Or would they stay on the train and laugh at the scared woman hobbling away from them. “Did you see her face? Dude! Hilarious!”

Sometimes they liked to play at being a predator. Scare the prey more than actually hunt it. Like lion cubs chasing butterflies.

The train started to slow down for its stop. Get off or stay on? She tried to nonchalantly look to see where they were now. Had they come even closer? Were they moving to block the door in front of her? Five minutes until the next stop. Ten minutes at least in the tunnel before the next train. On or off.

The doors opened and she sat for a moment before deciding. She got off and hobbled to the exit behind her and stepped off the train as the doors were closing.

The doors stopped inches from being totally closed and opened again. A foot breaking the beam and causing them to start the cycle again.

And off they came.

One, two, three.

They smiled at her or was it bared their teeth. It was the same really at this point.

Waiting for the train to pull out. Watching the platform to see if anyone else got off this time.

Just her and them.

They came toward her and now it was her turn to smile.

She flexed her fingers in the false cast she was wearing, feeling the steel bars cool against her skin and started to reach toward the knives she had holstered in the ankle brace.

There are prey and predator in this world.

It was important to really know which one you were.

Preplanning...

I just wrote a short story for the blog. But I'm not going to publish it until Sunday at the earliest. I've already got a fiction piece up for this week so it will wait. I could have done it as a bonus piece and normally that's what I would have done, but next week I'm going to have workers in the house almost every day so odds are I won't have time to sit down and write a story. Now I don't have to worry about that. 

We've been in the house for a year. Can you believe it? 

So right now we are getting all of the warranty work done that they will cover from the first year. Including settling cracks, nail pops, those sorts of things. Lots of drywall work coming up next week. Should be fun days trying to herd the cats from room to room. 

And...now don't get too excited because it hasn't ACTUALLY happened yet...I should be getting my extra cabinets in the dining room on Tuesday. Only took a year, but look at them go! Now let's all keep our fingers crossed that we actually like them and don't regret it immediately! 

Once all the warranty work is done and the cabinets are in I will for sure get the rest of the house unpacked and finished. Get the artwork on the walls and some shelves to display all of the things I still have in cabinets or boxed up. I mean, for sure that will happen.

Oh and the rugs for the doors and hallways. I mean, that will happen too. I will get it all taken care of because I'm on top of it. 

Isn't it weird? I mean, I pre-wrote a short story for next week so I wouldn't be behind but I still haven't unpacked all of the house. So when I say it I clearly mean me. Aren't I weird? I get these little "have to" things stuck in my head and completely ignore other things. 

Sure, now, I can say part of it is because the things I need to do to finish the house involve shopping, buying, measuring, seeing if Brent likes them too. Writing just involves me saying, Oh I find this fun or interesting or creepy and writing it down. Hoping that someone else will find it interesting or creepy or fun but honestly that's secondary. But still...

And right now I'm thinking this isn't going to be a long piece but that's okay because I've already hit the required number for my made up goal for the week. 

In a way it's a good thing. I've wanted to make writing the priority for a long time. And I've done it. I mean that's what I'm telling myself anyway. 

Okay, I'm off. Concrete people are coming to fix a crack in the sidewalk and I need to run some errands before the weekend. 

You should be excited about Sunday, it's a fun little piece inspired by the fact that one of the errands I need to run today involves taking the Max downtown...

Highs and Lows...

Did you know that your body naturally produces cannabinoids? You have a whole endocannabinoid system. And some people naturally produce higher levels than others. 

A few years ago there was a flurry of papers on this. Mostly titled things along the lines of Natural High or Are You Always High? The Answer May Surprise You! Depending on who was talking about it. 

When they started hitting Brent's newsfeed he passed them along to me. We've always joked that my normal brain status is a lot of people's high as fuck status. I think sideways. I find a lot of things to be hilarious. I eat weird food combinations (or at least I used to). But I don't get high. I've never gotten high. At least not on purpose. I'm pretty sure I got a contact high once from being in a closed room with everyone around me smoking, but it wasn't intense or purposeful so I don't really count it. ANYway...

I don't get high yet a lot of my friends do. It's always been that way. Part of it is my age and where I grew up. A lot of people got high. Parents of my friends were still getting high never letting it go from that summer they thought they might become a hippy. So it would have limited my choices to not have friends who got high. Though I did have a few, don't want you to think everyone was always stoned. 

Sometimes we were drunk.

Kidding! That was just me. I was a drinker. I did not get high, but I did drink. 

But my normal brain is very much wired in that direction. I go on tangents, as you all know, I like to see the way the world connects. I can spend an incredibly long amount of time contemplating the way the raindrops are forming on the window. Which can be a real schedule buster if you live in Oregon. 

So it was interesting to think that, okay yeah, maybe that is what is going on? I was just born high. And maybe that's why a lot of my friends get high. Because we can relate to each other. When they are high and want to talk to someone about what blue would taste like and if we all would taste the same thing could that lead to world peace? they know I'm there, and they don't have to worry if I've also gotten high that day. I'm just down for the conversation. 

And when Brent sent me a few of the articles I sent a few on to Kevin. Kevin always said he wondered what I'd be like high, would I get even odder or would I be one of those people that ends up totally paranoid because my brain turns on me? Or, and this was the thought that freaked us both out, would I become really normal? Woah...

The firsts are the worst. Every holiday and anniversary in that first year you lose someone is really hard. And I know it's a weird one, but 4/20 was his holiday. Kevin liked to partake. And he wasn't shy about letting people know he liked to partake. If you looked at the clock and it was 4:20 you'd think of Kevin, one time it bailed me out from forgetting to set a timer on dinner. When I realized I had forgotten and tried to figure out when I put it in the oven I remembered thinking, "Hey, Kevin!" and boom! I put dinner in the oven at 4:20. And on 4/20 you thought of him all day. And you shared jokes with him about leaving brownies out for Snoop Dogg or Willie Nelson the night before. You talked about the difference between the wearing of the green and the smoking of it. You laughed. A lot. 

My On This Day feed is full of back and forth with Kevin on 4/20. Though, to be fair, my On This Day feed is always full of stuff from Kevin. He was the best about commenting. It's weird still to post something and not have a joke from him in the comments. Or a "Murph says..." on a cat post. Or a message in my in box when he heard something funny that he thought maybe shouldn't go on my wall. 

But 4/20 was different. It is Kevin's Holiday. And I knew it was going to be difficult. I could feel it coming when the calendar hit April. I was really dreading it on Sunday when I started laying out the weekly plans. There is was just looming...4/20. I even tried convincing myself that it wouldn't be that bad because it was always just a joke anyway. 

But it's still difficult. 

The firsts are always the worst. 

Time Out...

When I was in school for massage therapy one of the last classes you took was one on business and marketing. Part of the assignment was to come up with a name for your company and some marketing materials. 

Side trip...

For those of you who might not know before I was a massage therapist I was an account executive in an advertising agency and before that I was a bookkeeper for a variety of companies. I ended up teaching the class as much as taking it. 

So anyway...

I had already been toying with names for my business. I had decided that I really didn't want to work for a chain or for a chiropractor so that left doing it on my own. A lot of therapists just use their names, but I wanted a business name. I settled on Time Out Massage. 

When you are a kid you look at time outs as punishment. You have to sit over here alone and think about what you did. As an adult that seems like a gift. Kind of like naps. You don't appreciate them when they are part of your daily routine but you miss them when they are gone. I liked the idea of a massage being a time out for adults. 

I created a whole marketing plan and marketing material including brochures and business cards. They were...well...good enough to get an A. 

When it came time to actually open my business I used an incredibly talented designer to craft a logo, pick a standard font for me to use, and come up with a color palate for all of my materials. I used all of that to have polo shirts done with my logo on them, business cards that were completely designed and beautiful, gift certificates, intake forms. It was all branded and beautiful. 

I loved my logo. I love my color palette. It was all wonderful.

What I ended up not loving was the business of massage. Which I had been worried about for years. It was the thing that had kept me from going to school for a long time. I liked giving massage. I was always the one in the office who was good for a shoulder rub or hand massage. I liked going to school and learning about massage. The muscles, the tissues, the benefits, the contraindications. Using words like contraindication. I mean, it was all great. But I hated the grind that running a massage business was. I mean you are constantly trying to find and establish clients. You have to work evenings and weekends with only a small handful of people being able to see you during the day. Every new client was a crap shoot on if you were even going to like them. 

I did it for a few years and then just pared down to where I was working on only friends. Then when I found out my injured shoulder was not going to get better I hung it up completely. And I didn't really regret it. I mean, I sort of regretted the money and time I put toward it, but I was lucky enough to have worked out a couple of good deals with employers to pay for my tuition and a couple lucky runs in Vegas paid for my table and my chair so...

But still. My "career" didn't last long. Looking back I probably would have done better trying to set up a storefront with other therapists and running Time Out Massage as an alternative to the other chains out there. But, honestly, I would have gotten tired of that too. 

So...a few years after I stopped the practice I sold my table. It was actually harder than I thought it would be to let it go. The day I packed it up and sent it off to its new home I was bummed. It was final then. Time Out was no more. 

Except...

Mari, who I went to school with, has decided to open her practice again. She had taken a few years off while her three youngest were all well, YOUNG. Now that just the littlest isn't in school she's ready to get back to work. She's honestly really good. I loved having her as a partner in school because I knew even when she was learning a modality she was going to be good at it. She's also just one of the best people I know. Like really good. Makes you feel better knowing she's in the world and that she's raising kids so there will be more of her out there. 

So when she called me a few months ago with a "you totally can say no" request it didn't take me more than a second to say yes.  

She wanted to use my company name. Aww...

And last week she put out the first business card with Time Out on it. She has her own logo, and it will be her own company, but there was a moment of bittersweet seeing the name. 

I was a good therapist. I liked being able to say I was a massage therapist. I like owning my own company. Even if it was never a really profitable one. I knew going in I was trading in a higher paying career for a lower paying one. It was a good transition out of corporate America for sure. And I did love my name and my logo so much. 

But I really hated the business of massage therapy. 

So I'm glad that Time Out lives again. I'm really glad it's Mari who is using the name. Not only does this feel like it's been handed down to family, she is the best therapist I know. 

I'm including a link to her Facebook post. If you're local I highly recommend giving her a call!

Turn, Turn, Turn...

When the world stops spinning, theoretically everyone will fly off. Sort of like in a car crash, the car stops but you don't so you fly through the window. Or get stopped by a seat belt or popped in the face with an airbag.

But we aren't strapped on to the Earth so when it stops spinning we will all fly off.

Or not off. Gravity will still be in effect, but we will all get thrown around pretty seriously.

Of course that's assuming that it just stops and doesn't slow down first. If that's how it happens, and it happens slowly enough we won't go flying off. We'll just start realizing that time isn't moving. That the sun isn't coming up like it used to. Or setting when we thought it should. Until eventually we are just stuck where ever it stops. Constant sun. Constant dark. Maybe a little twilight or dawn space.

But that depends entirely on if we can even sustain life that way. Obviously there would be massive issues with agriculture. And there would be flooding. And animals would die. And parts of the world would just bake in the sun until they turned to dust. 

So which would be preferable? Dying in a tragic accident as you are flung forward when the Earth just stops or freezing to death because the sun never comes up again or slowly dying of hunger or thirst because the sun never sets?

Of course all of this is just what she is coming up with off the top of her head, maybe none of it would be the way it happens. Maybe she doesn't understand that science at all. That wouldn't be all that surprising. As she's aged she has realized more and more that she actually understands very little about how the world works. Even knowing what is happening she still doesn't always understand what is happening. 

The world standing still would not change that. 

She's thought about just moving to the coast. When the world stops spinning and the people and animals all go flying the water will come too. A giant wave will crash over the beach as it sloshes in the tub that is the ocean. If the impact of the wave crushed her she wouldn't even have the momentary panic while she drowned. Though drowning is supposed to be pleasant. You feel warm and relaxed. Or is that hypothermia? Probably hypothermia.

Which then leads her to thinking she should just head for the dark side of the Earth.

But if the spinning slows to a stop she'd have to guess as to where the darkness would land. And how would she get there? Planes are all designed to work with a world that spins. Would they even be able to take off if the world stopped? Would that work? Would anything work?

She knew it didn't really matter. The world would stop spinning and they would all die. There was no amount of worry that could stop it. She would just live her life like everyone else. 

Of course knowing that as soon as the aliens unplugged her from their machines and put her back in to her bed she would forget all of this until the next time they picked her up for further observation of the dying planet and its inhabitants, made that a lot easier. She had thought about telling them she could understand what they were saying and ask them if they understood the concept that observation actually changes outcome but she didn't think it was a good idea. Any species that could tell a planet was about to die and was only concerned with collecting observations instead of helping the inhabitants probably wouldn't take kindly to her figuring out their language and eavesdropping on them. 

So she'd just wait for the moment she woke tomorrow not remembering any of this. 

Or at least not consciously. 

Her subconscious would try to reach her but so far had only managed to consistently put that Modern English song in her head as an earworm. 

Three days of "I'll stop the world and melt with you." 

At least it was a fun song.

Updates...

After I posted yesterday's blog the person I was talking about reached out to me. I'm not sure if they read the blog on stealth or if they actually noticed that I'd unfriended them. Most of the time people don't notice right away so I was surprised to get a message.

They apologized for any offense and took down the original post. 

I appreciate that they took it down. The fewer things like that in the world the better. 

I'm ready for a place in time where people think about what is offensive before they post. Before they say things. Before it's out in the world. 

And I know right now there are a few people getting ready to shout HEY! because I often post things that are pretty darn offensive to a section of people. 

But understand this, most of the time when I do that I know full well it's offensive. I have thought about it. And I want you to be offended. I want it to bug you. I want it to lodge in your brain and work on your subconscious. Why are you offended when I post about republicans wanting to do whatever horrific thing they are doing at that moment? Usually I get some sort of #NotAllRepublicans. Which means you still identify as a republican and don't want to identify with that part of it. But guess what? You own that shit.

I want you to be offended. Because I want you to pay attention to what your party is doing. What they are and are not voting for. Who they are villainizing. I want it to bug the shit out of you until you do something about it. 

I cannot cut the rot out of a political party I am not a part of. And I have not been a part of that party since I understood that fiscally conservative and socially liberal is nothing but a bullshit slogan. You cannot agree that people should all be treated equally but be willing to put that aside so you pay less in taxes and still consider yourself a decent human being. You just can't. And I know you are offended by that, and I. Want. You. To. Be.

I want things to bug you to the point where you are no longer comfortable ignoring them. 

I want you to have a daily reminder that you love queer people. Lots of them. Of all of the letters. And that you cannot love them and vote for people who hate them. 

I want you to feel uncomfortable when you look at my face and know you've said, "Well but trans women aren't really...." I want it to burn in your heart when you hear my name and know that somebody said that LGBTQIA+ people shouldn't really be allowed to be around kids. I want it be uncomfortable for you when you see I've posted something after a school lunch program is cut and know that there are kids in ONE OF THE RICHEST COUNTRIES IN THE WORLD WHO ARE STARVING. I want you to think of me and my face doing that my face thing when you are more concerned with if someone might not be sober instead of if they are living on the street under a tarp. Housing first is what works. Not housing but only if you meet the following checklist.

I want my existence to be a constant reminder to you that if you aren't trying, you are failing. If you aren't trying to be a better human, if you aren't trying to make sure that equality is the goal, if you aren't voting for people who share those values, if you aren't being a decent fucking person then you are failing at being a decent fucking person and I want you to hear that in my voice.

I want you to be uncomfortable. 

Until you change. 

Then I want my presence in your life to bring you nothing but joy. I want you to think of the fact that I give the world's best hugs. Even non-huggers will tell you that they accept hugs from me when offered. Because I want my hug to convey how very much you are loved. How much you are appreciated. How glad I am that you are in not just my life but out there in the world making it a better place. 

I want all of us working toward that. And when we are I will be your biggest cheerleader. I will help you in your fundraisers. I will spread your message as far as I can. I will help you help others. 

Or I will be an uncomfortable reminder.

And I'm doing it on purpose. 

Oops I Did it Again...

*read post*
*click through to their main page*
*click unfriend*

Done and dusted. 

I just don't have time for it. Not anymore. I mean I could have sent a message saying, "hey this is why I'm tossing your ass like moldy bread" or I could have posted a few links to actual scientific studies under their oh so fucking funny meme, but I just don't care to do that right now. Not with them. 

And I'll tell you why. Years ago we had a conversation about someone transitioning and they said "It takes more than fake tits to be a woman." and when I pressed them on what it actually took they answered that we would just have to agree to disagree. I told them I didn't agree with anything except that they were wrong. I should have unfriended them then. I see that now. But at the time I thought well, I've said my piece let's see what else happens. 

When Katie came out I watched their reaction. I mean, it had been years since the fake tits comment and they had posted a lot of ally stuff since then so...and they did make the supportive comment under the main post. I thought, well there you go. People can change. Glad I gave them the chance. 

Until today. And I'm sure if I had said something I would have been greeted with "it's just a meme" or "it's a joke, lighten up!" something along those lines. But it's not just a meme or just a joke when you are talking about people's lives. And that's where we are right now. People's lives are on the line. In my country they are passing anti trans legislation at an embarrassing speed. Not caring at all that what they are passing is too broad to withstand a court challenge, because that's not the point. The actual law is bonus. Shoving trans folks back in the closet is the point. Or underground. A dead we can pretend they were cis kid is better to them than a living trans one. 

And so I don't have time for that bullshit. I will be here for your honest questions. Just like I said I would. I will be here to help you with those "Look, I'm old and I don't know how to say...or do...or be..." moments. I will be here for the gentle corrections. The guidance through the new vernacular that you are struggling with. You come to to me with good honest intentions and I am here. 

Other than that I have no time for you. 

I told Katie last week that I know it makes me a bad queer but I really don't even have time for those of you that can't manage more than a Love is Love post or a even lazier rainbow colored Love. I need more. I need some actual belief from you that EVERYONE deserves the same rights. I need some actual belief from you that someone else's journey isn't yours and you need to just not worry about their medical care. If it doesn't directly affect you it's none of your business. You can't catch LGBTQIA+, it's not a virus, there is no vaccine for it, it's not a disease. So none of any of it is your business.

And, again, don't get me wrong. Love is Love and rainbows are good starts. If that's where you are starting from, if you are new to this whole allyship thing then I get that it can feel like a big brave step to show support. That there are people out there waiting to pounce when they see someone who they think thinks the way they do posting a Pride post. I get it. But if you aren't new? If this isn't your first foray into showing support? Going to need a little more from you. 

I've written about it over and over again. Being an ally is an active thing. Money, time, speaking out when needed. Standing up for, next to, in front of, or behind someone who needs you, that's active allyship. Voting for people who will do the same. That's active allyship. 

And I don't have time for your rainbows and hearts and quietly voting for people who want to make it illegal for kids to get the healthcare they need. Who want to gate keep trans care so hard the outcome is more likely to be suicide than transitioning. Who think it's open for discussion if homosexual couples should be able to have children. Who aren't opposed to revisiting the idea that marriage equality is settled. I don't have time for you to dismiss my child, my family, my friends, myself like that. I just don't. 

So yeah, oops I did it again. Down to 248 on my friend list. Let's see if I've got the right number now. 

Keys...

When I'm writing a fiction piece I am often looking for that click moment. When the right key hits the right lock and everything opens up. 

Yesterday I posted an older story of mine on my main page. I can remember writing it. The end scene had actually been in my head for a long time. I could see the car, I knew what she was going to say when she got to the door. I had all of that. But what I didn't have was a story. 

I was washing dishes when the scene with the woman in the car became a story about a great grandmother and her great granddaughter. Though, in actuality I wasn't sure right at that point how they were related. I had tried on the idea of a retirement home and caretaker, but that didn't really click. It sort of fit, I might have been able to wiggle it around enough to unlock, but there wasn't that moment of  CLICK!

A lot of you (2 out of my 3 readers) have been reading this blog for long enough that you've seen me post bits and scenes that weren't really stories. Things that never had that moment where they clicked in someplace else. That's always frustrating to me. And normally when I go ahead and posts those bits and bobs it's because it's been days, or weeks, or months, that that one piece has been bumping around in my head trying to find the right key and lock. 

As I've mentioned, I'm writing a fiction piece for the blog every week and sending another fiction piece to Dana every other week. Right now she's getting a ton of those scenes. Just pieces of conversations that characters are having in my head. And the majority of them are from the same two "people" and even with a small handful of these scenes written I still haven't had that CLICK moment. The one that ties it all together as a story. I thought I had one at the beginning, I thought I had an endpoint I was aiming toward but then when I started writing that wasn't it. It was a false click. 

And that happens too. Where I think I'm writing one story and halfway through I realize that nope, that's not it at all. If I'm lucky a better one shapes up, but sometimes it just doesn't. It just becomes what it is and that's the way it goes. (How's that for a sentence that has a lot of words but doesn't really say anything?)

What I really love is when I have an ending line to a story. A very ME story. One that you are pretty sure you know what's going on right until you hit that line. Then it changes everything. My hope is that as soon as you hit that line and think...mother fucker...you go back and read the whole piece again to see how it was really there all along. That's my favorite type of story. The one that starts with a CLICK in my head, the click of the lock opening but I have to find the rest of it. 

And even that doesn't always happen. I sometimes have an ending line that I think would make a great BOOM! moment in a story but I can't work the story around to get there. It's either way too obvious what is happening or there is no subtle way to work all the details. So I have an open lock just sitting there. Those I can't even post as a get it out of my head moment because "And it was a seahorse all along" doesn't make any sort of sense without a full story. 

Now, the whole reason you are getting this post today is because I was dreaming last night and the me in my dreams kept telling everyone about this click theory. This moment of keys and locks and how that's when you know you are on the right track. And when I woke up from that dream I thought, yep, that's exactly it. That's what it feels like. That's what it is. And I fell back asleep only to have her pop back up in another dream talking about those keys and locks again. 

So today I'm writing about it, because apparently, this is the bit and bob that is going to bang around in my head until I get it out. 

Hopefully tonight she shuts up about it. We've all got it, Dream Denise, it's a key and a lock and it has to fit together to make a story. Now, if you don't HAVE an actual story to click into just shhhh and let me sleep peacefully. 

What Does Your Garden Grow?

Inspiration can come from anywhere. Last week a friend of mine posted this clip from Jimmy Rees. He's a really funny Australian comedian. If you haven't see the clip yet I'll wait while you go watch it. And now you know where the inspiration for this short story came from...

The things you believe as a child are sometimes really funny. She wasn't thinking about the things that adults led you to believe like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, but things that you thought up on your own and were just so sure you were right. Things you never even tried to get clarification on because you just knew them. 

It made sense when you looked back. Not the funny things you believed, but how you got there. Most of life is based on context clues really. You see things, or hear things, and just slot them in to the logical box they belong. When you are little you have a lot less context to use. You still do it, you still slot things in where you think they belong, but you just don't know enough yet to realize that is the wrong box. 

Her grandmother had died before she was born. She had died so young that even her father had never met her. But every Mother's Day, every anniversary of the day she died, her birthday, almost all the major holidays, they would go to the cemetery and visit with her. 

They would pull weeds and water the tree that marked her grave. They would each take turns telling grandma whatever they felt like talking to her about. Then before they left her father would take the kids and leave her mother to visit with her own mother alone. 

It was just a normal part of growing up. 

Thinking it was normal wasn't the odd thing. A lot of families visit the graves of their dead. A lot of people talk to them like they can still hear them. It might not be everyone but it's not all that rare. 

No, the funny part, the odd part, was that she believed her grandmother was the tree. 

People would talk about family branches or roots. Or how the apple didn't fall far from the tree. She had heard all of these things and so it made sense to her that her grandmother was a tree. And they took really good care of the tree. They would make sure it had plenty of water, and that the branches were healthy. When they left flowers for her grandmother they left them at the base of the tree. Her mother would kneel under the tree, leaning against the trunk, while she visited. 

It just made sense that her grandmother was the tree. 

She was probably 8 or 9 when the reality settled in that her grandmother's grave was marked by the tree. That she wasn't a tree. That it didn't make sense that her grandmother would be a tree. It wasn't one of those situations where she said something embarrassing, thank goodness. There was no report in class about her family tree actually including a tree. It was just one of those things that as she sat under the shade of the tree visiting with her grandmother she had a moment where she understood that she had always thought of her grandmother as the tree, and that she wasn't the tree. 

It was hard to explain. 

Partly because she never did. She never told anyone how she thought her grandmother was a tree when she was little. Or that she reached an age where she understood that she wasn't. That it would be impossible. Some things just didn't need to be explained. They were just funny things you kept to yourself about how silly you were as a child. 

And of course she hadn't thought about it ages. She might not have ever thought about it again if it hadn't been for the paperwork her mother had just sent over. 

Her mother was older. Her health was failing. They all knew it was just a matter of time now. And her mother having dealt with the untimely and unplanned death of her own mother wanted to make sure that they all knew exactly what to do when she passed. What she wanted for her funeral service. What songs were to be played and who would sing, who she wanted to speak and who she absolutely did not, and...

where she wanted to be planted.

 

Style Icon!

First things first, I feel fine today. No fever and the ick feeling that went with it is also gone. Thank you everyone for the well wishes.

Now on to today!

I have been trying to change up my style this past year or so. I'm so tired of trying to find pants that fit that I've decided to just not wear them very often. And since it's a little rainy and cold around here to go pantless I've turned to skirts and dresses. They are much easier to fit my particular body style. 

I've also started wearing tights again. Like a little kid. Though I wore tights when I worked in advertising as well. I wore skirt suits, boots, and tights for client meetings. My own uniform. I have a favorite tights company and they put out really cute patterns as well as nice solid colors. Which is an issue. They aren't super expensive per pair so it's an issue I have an easy time talking myself around. Though Brent has started to audibly roll his eyes when he sees a new Snag charge come through. 

Part of finding and redefining what I wear most of the time has meant I've bought some things that I like okay. Just okay. And as I've filled in more of my wardrobe with things I like better I have an abundance of clothes. Which bothers me on a few fronts. One, I hate anytime it looks like I'm hoarding and two, I designed our closet with a certain amount and style of clothing in mind. By switching to dresses I'm already pushing into issues but by having SO MANY dresses now it's a bigger one. 

So I'm going to try selling some pieces on Vinted. Have you ever done that? It's a kind of second hand clothing store online and direct buyer to seller. There are some protections in place for both sides so you don't end up just completely screwed over. I'm hoping it will motivate me to clear out a few things and also not make me feel badly about sending barely worn things off to Goodwill. 

The challenge I can see with it is that I learned about Vinted from a Facebook group I'm in where people post pictures of outfits they have put together with their Snag tights. Some really cute things there. So I'm a little worried that I will sell a handful of pieces then just turn around and buy more. I mean not like SUPER worried, but a little concerned considering I want to make room not just swapsies.

And this is a weird space to be in. I have not had an abundance of clothes since I worked retail. I really don't like shopping. Take today, for instance, I bought a few things online from Nordstrom Rack a few weeks ago. Today I was returning the things that didn't fit. Since I was there I decided to look around the store and see if there was anything there that looked good. Specifically I'm looking for some cardigans that are fitted at the hip/waist instead of the loose boxy drape that seems to be in style right now. I used to have a lot of them but wore them all out over the years and haven't been able to replace them as styles have shifted.

ANYWAY...since I had just bought stuff from The Rack online shopping in the store should be a piece of cake right? Nope. So overwhelming. There is just So.Much.Stuff. And people are crowding into your space to snatch at things that you might get to first even though trust me that is not my style and you could have waited a few extra beats before swooping in... I just don't like shopping. 

But buying online? That's easy. Buy, try on, return. Or keep. Which I've been keeping a few things lately. Stitch Fix has me almost dialed now. Out of the five things they send a month 2-3 are usually things I like. Then it's just a matter of deciding if I like them enough. And at the beginning when I had only a few things there were things I kept that I wouldn't keep now. 

Thus the need to sell things on Vinted to make room in my closet. And in my psyche. 

I'm also open to bets on how long it is before I hit full freak out and stop buying ANYTHING AT ALL. Because that could very well happen. 

I'm not really good at balance. 

But at least I'll look really cute while I figure it out. 

Plans...

I have twelve minutes to write this blog.

Okay, I have more than twelve if I want them, but I have twelve to waste right now. 

I was going to go to the grocery store but as I was getting dressed I got really chilled. Like oddly chilled. And it didn't go away. So I took my temperature and yeah, I have a bit of a fever. 

And since I'm a responsible adult I stay home when I'm not well.

And since we live in the worst timeline I am taking a Covid test to see if I need to send Brent for Paxlovid tomorrow. 

Ugh. 

So ten minutes left to wait.

Which is great because I really did want to write today. Hadn't written since Friday and you know how I am.

But I had hope for some inspiration.

Inspiration aside from STOP CLAIMING YOU ARE PERSECUTED WHEN I CAN'T GO TO TARGET OR THE GARDEN STORE TODAY BECAUSE OF A RELIGIOUS HOLIDAY THAT I DON'T FOLLOW!

I mean...yeah, it's ridiculous how Christians don't understand that they are the furthest thing from persecuted here in the United States. We are all supposed to stop what we are doing because it's one of the two days a year they might go to church. Maybe. I mean if the weather isn't perfect for golf or the fish aren't biting or you  know, sleeping in just sounds better...

Did I mention I don't feel well? So yeah, a little lashy outy.

Six minutes left to wait. 

Planning for dinners next week and I am so tired of planning for meals. Because of my food stuff we can't just decide to go out on a whim. There are a small handful of places where I can find things I can eat without issue, which sucks because before if I didn't feel like cooking we just grabbed something out and went on our way. Now if we want a burger every night I can do that but otherwise I'm pretty limited. Which means cooking at home. And honestly that gets pretty limited as well. We rotate through the same handful of meals. I was actually kind of pleased that I had to make nothing but easy digested food for Brent the past couple of weeks. Simple pasta meals. It didn't matter that it was the same three out of 7 nights because it had to be. 

But now we are past that part and I'm back to...well...when was the last time we had balsamic green beans? Can I feed you pizza again this week or will you rebel? How about you bring home Hawaiian on Tuesday and we eat that as leftovers again on Thursday? Hmm? 

And oh fuck, I guess we need something tonight as well. 

Ugh. 

I got a few meals planned and made the list and was getting ready to go...

And here we are. Three minutes left to waste.

Fred Meyer is doing delivery today so I went ahead and ordered, though I did forget to get something for tonight after all, I had planned on picking up whatever sounded good while I was there. Whoops...

I guess I'm a meal short next week. 

And then the real pisser is that I will have to do it all again next weekend!

Oh there goes the timer!

Hey, good news! So far I just feel lousy and have a fever, no Covid. So...yay?

It's Been One Hell of a Holy Week...

This week we've had a breaking story about the level of gifts and trips Clarence Thomas has been taking from a Republican super donor with multiple cases before the Supreme Court now and in the past. This is not the first, nor the only, thing that should disqualify Thomas from sitting on the court, yet it won't make a difference.

We had the Tennessee legislature try to expel three members for speaking out of turn about gun safety. A week after a mass shooting in Tennessee. They were only successful in removing two out of the three. The two Black members, the white member escaped one vote short of expulsion.

We had Kansas override a veto to make sure they could block the plethora of trans athletes from participating in sports in the schools. Oh, wait, not plethora. One. One trans athlete. Can you even imagine what that would be like? To have an entire legislature pass a law to restrict you. Not people like you, just YOU. And then to have to face it as a kid? 

At least she will have company, West Virginia did the same. And when the Supreme Court decided not to let them instate the ban while the case works its way through the lower courts do you know who protested and said we should ban that 12 year old girl right now? Oh yes, Thomas again. And let's be clear on this one, she's been identifying as female since she was 4, she's on puberty blockers and she's 12. So all of the arguments about how a testosterone driven puberty gives permanent advantages are moot. She's not gone through puberty. She's never competed as a male. But they have targeted her with a new law and are fighting her in court. One child. 

Three children murdered in Tennessee but if you speak out on it in a way they don't like you are expelled from the legislature (if you are Black). But what we are worried about is if a 12 year old trans girl runs track in West Virginia? Or that one trans kid (I don't know their sport or who they are) in Kansas keeps competing? I mean...

But wait there's more...

A beer company sent their beer to an Instagram influencer with a large audience. She happens to be trans. This, this was a step TOO FAR for the right wing. You know, those people who scream about cancel culture and snowflakes? The thought of a trans woman drinking the same beer as they did made them lose their damn minds. There are videos out of people dumping all of their Bud Light and swearing from now on it's only Coors Light for them! Travis Tritt has made sure that Anheuser-Busch is no longer part of his concert stuff (I don't know, who knew Travis Tritt was even still touring?) Kid Rock took a few 12 packs out back and shot them with an AR-15 while stating that his point was clear and unambiguous.

Which seems a little...I don't know...much? Like he's shooting up the beer because a trans woman is part of an ad campaign so he hates the beer? Or is he suggesting the only way to deal with trans people is violently? Because that's the clear message he sent to me. That's he's so mentally fragile that the thought of someone living a life that is different from his spins him so far out that he grabs his gun. Which seems like he is one of those people that probably shouldn't have guns...

And here's the weird thing to me (It's not weird, it's totally expected, I need a sarcasm font)

It's the holiest of weeks in the Christian religion. The period between Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday. Set aside that this year it also coincides with Ramadan and Passover, we'll just deal with the Christians right now. Don't you think in this week, the holy week, the week your ENTIRE religion is based on you'd be working to emulate Jesus just a little more? Protecting the children, not from the make believe threats you've dreamed up, but from the number one cause of death among children? Worrying about your own life choices instead of judging others for theirs? Not making up things that you swear are against your religion but you can't actually find a verse that unambiguously states that it is?

I mean, it seems like this should have been a come to Jesus week. Literally. Like get right with your god. Figure out what "love your neighbor like yourself" really means. My guess is Jesus wouldn't want you to make sure their kid can't run track. Or make sure YOU decide if they can get the medical help that their doctors and parents have decided is appropriate. Or maybe you should wonder why one of your Supreme Court Justices is actually a Justice for hire, sounds like some table flipping in the temple moments to me.  And suffer the children to come to me isn't supposed to mean suffer from gunshots so they die early. 

So yeah, it's not weird. It's typical. It's frustrating. It's disgusting. 

But hey, enjoy your chocolate...

Sticks with You...

Brent eats fast. Like he's done with his meal before I've really gotten started. Part of that is that I'm a talker and when we sit down to dinner I want to talk about whatever it is that I've seen or done or thought about that day. I want to hear about his day as well but he's not a talker so I normally only get "fine" as a response. But I try. 

But the main reason why he's so fast is from his time in basic training in the Navy. They had a really limited amount of time allowed for meals. And the time was start to finish, standing in line, getting your food, eating, and clearing your plate. So he learned during that stretch, and then his whole stint in the Navy to eat fast. 

He's tried to break the habit a few times to no avail. He's just fast. 

I am fast in the shower. Large family, small water heater growing up. Even if you started with hot water it was a total crap shoot how long you would have any. So I am in and out of the shower quickly. The longer my hair, the longer the shower but that's about the only thing that changes. 

We had an 80 gallon hot water heater in the townhouse (I had an extra large soaking tub put in during the remodel, to fill an extra large soaking tub you need an extra large hot water heater) and we have a tankless hot water system here. Basically it takes a bit for the water to heat up as it passes through the system but as soon as you have hot water you have hot water until you turn it off. Never ending supply. But I still take a really fast shower. 

When we (either one of us) are driving and we go through a yellow light we scratch or tap the roof of the car. "Scratch to keep the fuzz away" was the saying. I picked it up from a friend and started doing it, Brent picked it up from me. We've both been doing it since we were 16. And habitually we both still do it now. And to be perfectly fair, I've never gotten a ticket for running a light so...

Brent and I have talked about these things, and a few more, and we both believe the things you learn to do when you are younger stick with you harder. It's much harder to break a habit you picked up as a kid (and he was still a kid when he joined the Navy) than it is to break one you pick up as an adult. Those later in life habits are transient things but the habits of our youth take a lot of work to unstick. 

And the first step is recognizing why you do something the way you do.

For instance the shower thing with me? It wasn't until this past weekend when we were talking about how fast I am in the shower (How are you done? You just closed the door.) that I even realized that it was that I was faster than everyone else. I just assumed anyone else was slow. Like you know, there are people out there that love to luxuriate in the shower. Just let the water hit them, steam up the whole place, daydream about the world, whatever it is they are doing. But yeah, talking about it and remembering when Katie brought home this shower timer thing from some water conservation talk and we were supposed to only shower for that amount of time. I never even came close to using up the whole time. I thought they must have padded it to make it doable. 

Nope. I just rarely take more than 5 or 10 minutes in the shower. Ten is if I need to shave my legs. And that's probably padding the number on my end. 

But as we talked I thought about it and yeah, I am quick, but I always had to be. Then it dawned on me. Childhood habit. 

Now part of why they stick so hard is that we do them and don't stop doing them, so DECADES of habit built up. I also think part of why they stick is the same reason why so many things from our childhood stick. Our minds aren't as full. We are learning things for the first time. 242-3480 That was my childhood phone number. Hasn't been my phone number since I was 18 but I still remember it. Now ask me if I know Katie's phone number. I never had to learn it (it's programmed into my phone) and so I never did. Even phone numbers I've had to learn in the past 20 years are mostly gone. I knew them for as long as I needed to and then let them go. And since they were overwriting so many other things and being overwritten by more they went. 

But those things we learned the first time we had to learn them. Those things we did over and over as kid to the point where we just did them as habit later without ever thinking about why we did them? Those things stick.

Change is hard. Even when we know we need to it's hard. Realizing where all of those old habits come from is a good place to start. 

Even if you aren't going to change them and you'll always eat faster than everyone else or shower quicker than most people at least you'll know why you do what you do. 

As you can tell this is bumping around in my brain. I think there is something else I am supposed to be paying attention to, or something for a story in here that my subconscious just hasn't released yet. So I wrote it all down to see if that helps. 

Also a habit from when I was a kid. 

Breakfast Orders...

"How about Pancake House?"

"Becky doesn't like pancakes."

"That's fine, I can always find something else. Even at pancake restaurants they always have other options."

"Wait, you don't like pancakes? Who doesn't like pancakes?"

"Becky doesn't. Keep up."

"Ha. Ha. Got it. But why? I mean, everyone likes pancakes."

"My mother used to make pancakes for every special occasion. Easter Sunday. Birthday breakfasts. All of them."

"Oh that's sweet."

"Sure, except for the fact that my mother was a terrible cook. And the worst kind of terrible cook. The kind that believes they are good at it. And pancakes are actually harder than you'd think to get right."

"That's true. I always burn the first one."

"Right. If the pan is too hot they burn on the outside and never get done on the inside. If it's too cold they take forever to cook and end up getting kind of tough and gummy. There is a trick to a pancake. My mother never learned the trick."

"Ah."

"And so we always had a plate of burnt and yet raw at the same time pancakes to eat. And my father, who adored my mother, would tell her how great they were and how much we all loved that she cooked them for us and to promise to always make them."

"Oh no. So you had to eat them."

"Slathered in as much margarin and fake maple syrup as possible. Just a pool of burnt, raw, pancake like objects floating in fake fat and fake syrup. For every single special occasion ever."

"I'm starting to see why you don't like them. Or at least why you think you don't like them. But have you tried getting them in a restaurant that knows how to cook them?"

"When I went skiing with Peter after college we went to a place that was famous for its pancakes. Everyone talked about how incredible they were. Fluffy almost cake like pancakes. Served with sweet Irish butter and real grade A maple syrup. They brought them out to the table, all sorts of versions, Peter got blueberry, his brother got strawberry and cream, his father got bacon maple, I mean just whatever you could imagine being done to a pancake this place would do it. And people waited for hours to get in and get a table. I ordered just plain pancakes. Buttered them, poured some syrup on and..."

Everyone waited to hear what was wrong with them. 

"...they were perfect. Fluffy, light, almost crisp on the outside but not in an over done sort of way. A hint of vanilla flavor as well. Almost like birthday cake, but not quite. The butter and syrup combined into a rich and balanced sweetness without being cloying. I'm sure you couldn't have asked for a more perfect pancake."

"Okay, wait, again, what? It doesn't sound like you didn't like them. You just said they were perfect?"

"Yep. Perfect. And I hated every bite. I've tried them in other places as well. Always the same story, nobody makes them like my mother did."

Messy...

Brent and I walked all through the house today making a list of things for when I walk through the house tomorrow with Steven from Pahlish to do the final warranty work. 

It's crazy how messy a house can get in a year.  

It's crazy how messy MY house is. 

I've given up trying to keep everything perfectly clean and it shows. But now I'm freaking out a little at how much I've let go. I expect to be deep cleaning for the next week. 

And then I will look around and see that it didn't stay clean.

It's impossible with two cats and two long haired people to keep things perfectly clean. The hair from the four of us settles on everything. The dust from three litter boxes is another issue. The little cat footprints on every single surface of the house are never gone for long. 

See as soon as I clean something off they have to inspect it. Drives me crazy. They literally follow me as I mop and walk over the damp floor leaving a trail the whole way. 

But I can see part of April will be getting back on a deep clean schedule. Aside from the things I clean daily or weekly I will be adding in some extra things to keep the house looking good. 

At least until I get frustrated and give up again. 

The really silly thing is Brent has suggested hiring a cleaning person for ages. Because I hate to clean. (some of you are like whaaa?) I do it a lot because I hate having a dirty house as well. But I don't get joy out of cleaning. I do like that often when I clean and get bored my mind wanders and I get some decent story ideas. But cleaning itself just sucks. Because it's never ending. There's never a point where it's all finally clean and you don't have to do anymore. As soon as it's done it's already getting messy again. 

But I don't want to get a cleaning person because I would feel so lazy. Brent works crazy amounts of hours (less crazy this year, thankfully) but still. He works and brings in our only income. I take care of the house. That was the deal when I first cut back my hours, then to fully retired. I would handle all of the household things, he would work for the money. It's a good deal. So if I hire a cleaning person I feel like I've reneged on my end of the deal. Even though he's fine with a renegotiation of terms. 

And it seems like a hassle. Trying to keep the cats out of the way of the cleaning crew. Trying to make sure that they don't come when Brent is working from home. Trying to figure out what to do while they are here cleaning, I mean, how weird to watch someone else clean your house.

So I clean. And I hate it. And I let things slide. Then I notice the dusty baseboards and the cat prints on the window ledges and I think...oh it's just so messy!

Now if you'll excuse me I'm off to...

No not clean, don't be silly...