August is a Gone!

I was going to use August is a Bust because bust can mean over, but I didn't want you all to feel like the whole month of August was just a failure because that's not really true and *gasp*.....

(Had terrible insomnia last night after two nights of pretty bad insomnia so I'm right on the edge of manic right now. As if you couldn't already tell. Just a warning to buckle up because this could be a really jangly blog.) 

Okay, so anyway. 

August is done, man. 

Feels kind of funny to be checking in on goals after writing my yearly intentions birthday blog that I was just going to do things instead of track them. But I still have the balance of 2023 to get through and check off those goals before entering my year of being. 

Reading: For the memoir/bio I actually ended up with two because the Fantastic Stranglings pick was a series of personal essays too. So I read Pageboy by Elliot Page and Congratulations, the Best is Over! by R. Eric Thomas. I enjoyed the Elliot Page book. It was interesting because I often check reviews after I finish a book to see what other people thought about it and there were a lot of people who thought he didn't really reveal anything. He didn't get personal. Hunh...I mean, he talked about how he felt growing up, he talked about his early years in the Canadian arts industry and then in Hollywood and how disconnected he felt from the Pretty Princess they kept trying to mold him into. He talked about the number of times people tried to get him to dress differently, or act differently. He talked about his parents. He talked about his childhood. He talked about relationships and coming out first as a lesbian then later as trans and what those experiences were like, how they differed from each other in people's reactions and support. He talked about a lot. What he didn't talk about was if he was getting bottom surgery or not. So my guess is basically what these people wanted was more detail about his privates. Which, they are called privates for a reason. 

The R. Eric Thomas book was interesting in a different way. It was a Fantastic Stranglings book so it was an automatic read for me as part of my yearly goals. I read the first couple and was like, wait, I think I "know" this guy. Looked up his name on Goodreads and saw that I had read his first book. And only gave it three stars. It was just okay for me. I didn't connect with him that much and I didn't find them as funny as other people did. I would never have picked up the second book if it hadn't been a Stranglings choice. And...that would have been fine. I still don't really connect with him or find him all that funny. Though this book wasn't marketed as humorous (I don't think) so maybe they've stopped pushing that angle. 

I wrote about the self help already, enjoyed it, not really all that much of a self help book. Still counts. 

As far as numbers go my goal for 2023 was 60 books and I finished my 60th book on Tuesday. Since I still have the three monthly musts for the balance of the year I think I'll go in and adjust my goal to 72, which would then put me 13 books ahead of schedule. 

Writing went well. Hit my numbers for the month even with the travel at the beginning. I'm not sure I'm going back to the long story I started back in January for my exchanges with Dana. At least for a few weeks I think it's going to be quick hit prompted writing there. Probably the same for here. Though spooky season is upon us and that's normally a pretty fertile time for me. For some reason people hanging up skeletons and wearing all black is inspirational. I'm ahead by 25 nonfiction pieces and 2 fiction (plus a few banked and that whole long incomplete story as well). I think I'll actually hit that stretch goal, but I'm still not 100% positive because there is a lot of year left to hit a wall. 

How optimistic! 

Still not drinking. Don't know how long that will stick, but for now it's working for me. 

Almost completely tapered off of the HRT still debating on if I start the new regimen or not. 

Facebook slid right back into too much by the end of the month. Need to figure out how to balance that out as enough but not too much. You all are just too interesting and great time wasters.

Workouts were good not great. Had some scheduling issues so nothing drastic, just some skips here and there. Trying to get the right cardio/weights balance there as well. Thinking about joining a gym again, there are a couple of machines I just dearly miss and haven't been able to replicate easily with home workouts. Always a bit weird to me that somewhere along the line I turned into the sort of person who has favorite gym equipment. 

I would be setting September mini goals here, but instead it will just be tracking the reading and writing to maintain those 2023 numbers but not adding anything else. The self help book is Deep Work, and funny aside on this one. I read a post the other that made me just laugh and shake my head in that smash the fucking patriarchy way... Books geared toward women improving themselves are published as self help books. Books geared toward men improving themselves are marketed as business books. And yes, you can argue that business books (like Deep Work) aren't just for men, and books about being more emotionally present aren't just for women, but the covers, the blurbs, the authors all say otherwise. Good thing I'm gender fluid in my reading. 

The memoir is The Many Lives of Mama Love: A Memoir of Lying, Stealing, Writing and Healing. A few chapters in and it's already a bit rough. But stories about addiction usually are. 

The Fantastic Strangling book I can't remember the title of, but it won't be released for a bit, and it's on all of the "most anticipated Fall books" lists, so we will see if I can get it from the library in time to read for September. 

September is looking to be busy otherwise, end of the soccer season, beginning of hockey and college football and a few musicals and plays in there as well. Roll on Fall!

Life is a Journey Not a Destination...

...and I hate that.

Okay, let's back up.

Brent and Katie can tell you that I make everything a game. It is no wonder that Katie ended up being a game designer for a living. She was raised with a mother whose mindset is "How can I turn this into a game?" Not just for the win, though I love to win, but just because everything is so much more fun if it's a game. 

But here is the truth of it. Or another part of the truth of it. 

I turn everything into a game because the "getting there" parts of life bore the fuck out of me. I want teleportation technology so I don't have to waste time travelling to get to the fun place. I want replicator technology so I don't have to waste time cooking to eat the delicious food. Before the Kindle made it much harder to do I was a back page reader in books to make sure the main character was still alive before I bothered investing my time. Odd that I hate spoilers in movies and TV shows so much...but what can I say, I'm an enigma.

I walk fast. I drive fast. I have tightly packed vacation schedules. I want to get to the good stuff right away. 

The whole "enjoy the journey" thing doesn't work for me unless I turn the journey into a fun game. And they don't have to be complicated games, or even something anyone else would recognize as a game. Like count the tiles of concrete on the sidewalk and how many steps are there in each section and can you make it even, two strides never three. Or how many crows are out today, is it more than yesterday and can you get one to follow you? Or race the sucker hole so you don't get rained on, but anthropomorphize the clouds so it's personal. 

Travelling becomes pay attention to all of the people in the airport because surely one of them will make a good character in a short story. Or if you're really lucky you'll get a whole blog out of something that happens. 

Life is a game to me because otherwise I can't. I just can't even. 

It's why meditation failed for me so many times. The sitting and just being for me was pure torture. When do we get to the enlightenment part? I just want that. When I finally found a program that was catered to people who absolutely cannot shut down their minds it was a revelation. OH! I have been meditating all along. Just they were walking meditations and counting my steps wasn't just a great game, but it was a way of meditating. 

It's why I write short stories. I don't want to waste my time writing the middle part when I already know how it ends. I want to get there as quickly as possible. Often I already know what I want the last paragraph or last line to be and the rest is just working out how to get there. And it needs to be as quickly as possible or I'm going to lose any interest in it at all. 

Which makes this a really long way to tell Dana I don't know if I'm ever going to get back to the story I started in January. I am SO bored with these people...

The Old Switcheroo....

"I like to think of the quantum universe as being like Mike TeeVee in Willy Wonka."

"What? I mean...what?" Stella was used to Fred being a little bit random but even for him this was a weird non sequitur.

"You know how in Willy Wonka when they were showing how to get candy delivered by television and Mike did it to himself?"

"Okay, yeah..."

"Remember how they showed him floating overhead in the air in all of the tiny little bits? It looked like static just floating above them?"

"Sure..."

"Well I think the whole multiple universe thing is like that. Just floating all around us in tiny little bits, we just can't see them."

"Okay, and why did you bring this up?"

"Because I think I just switched universes."

"What?"

"I think I just switched. Like I was in one and now I'm in this one."

"And why do you think that? And wouldn't I have noticed?"

"Okay, first off, I don't think you would notice because to switch it would have to be one really close to the one you were already in. Like you can't move from here to way over there without walking across the room but you can sort of shift where you are standing easily."

"So I wouldn't notice because you are basically the same person as who ever you just switched with?"

"Yeah."

"And why do you think you switched?"

"Because I just had massive deja vu. Like I had already lived this moment. And I think I probably had. Just the me that was here before I switched didn't."

"That's what you think deja vu is? You are bouncing into a universe a few moments behind the one you were in?"

"Yep. It makes sense. You know what's going to happen because it did."

"Okay, say you are right, what about the you that was here that hadn't lived it and is now in a new universe a few moments ahead of where they were? What happens to them?"

"Haven't you ever walked into a room and had no idea why you were there? Like it's a complete blank how you ended up in the kitchen or what you are looking for in the linen closet?"

"So you think when that happens that you are from a different timeline where you knew why you were headed to the kitchen but that you ended up in a different timeline experiencing deja vu while the you that was there is now the you here and has no idea why they are in the kitchen?"

"Exactly."

"Okay...say that you are right. Why are you switching?"

"Because it's all around us. You can't help but run into a new timeline sometimes. The fact that it's not constant is probably more weird than the fact that it happens at all."

"So you aren't consciously switching. You can't control it. It just happens?"

"Right. See? You get it."

"Sadly, yes I do. And also it's not even the weirdest theory you've ever had."

"Maybe. I mean if I'm right, and I think that I am. The me that you knew is now talking to a different you in a different timeline and maybe they have had really out there ideas but maybe I haven't. You just never know which me is me in any conversation right?"

Stella just shook her head. The craziest part to her was that she completely understood what Fred was talking about. No matter the timeline. 

Who Are You Trying to Help?

Listen to them.

Question asked then answered. Short blog today. 

Okay, kidding. I'll expand.

I have been thinking about a local problem lately and how our government is going about not fixing it. And then saw something today in a friend's timeline about an issue in Australia that dovetails into it. And there have been a few other stories that are in the same vein that have been making their way around lately. 

The Australia issue (this is high level gloss, from someone FIRMLY not aware of all of the issues) seems to be that native Australians want to make sure they always have representation in decisions made about Native Australians. Now this seems like it makes total sense and of course they would so clearly this should already be the case, but you only think that if you have no experience with government and people. 

Money and programs have been put towards that community without ever asking people in that community if that's what they need. And then when the government changes hands and you get people in power who don't care about Native Australians then the money and programs stop, if they are working or not. 

What they are asking for (again, from my understanding) is a to always have people from the Native communities involved in those decisions. To put it in the Constitution of Australia so it can't be added and subtracted due to who won the last election. They are literally calling it a Voice. They just want to have a voice in the matters that pertain to them. Seems really logical. 

Listening to a story on NPR this morning about schools in our country and how they have inadequate HVAC systems. They were talking to an English teacher in Pennsylvania whose classroom is on the 4th floor and has no AC. Last year the school invested in these smart pads that read the temperature and humidity in each classroom. He said he knew they were really expensive and would have rather they spent the money on actually putting in air, but that nobody asked him. 

It reminded me of a story I saw a few weeks ago from a science teacher showing the "upgrades" they did to her lab classroom over the summer. They took out the power outlets from the lab tables and suspended them from free swinging drop downs in the ceiling. She was like, "Oh sure, a classroom full of freshman isn't going to just use these to swing at people's heads...right. But nobody asked me what would actually be beneficial in my classroom."

And here locally the Mayor of Portland is putting together a commission to address our houseless problem. And he has put zero members on it who actually are advocates for the houseless population. It's all business people who are now going to make decisions that are beneficial to their businesses without ever considering the people who are going to be affected the most. 

And of course we see it all the time with abortion decisions being made by men who will never have to contemplate what being pregnant means. And trans health care being decided by people who are not only not trans but don't even know anyone who is trans. And books being banned by people who I have to assume don't even read. 

We legislate things all the damn time without ever consulting those that would be affected the most. And I get it, sometimes there are conflicts. One solution might be a problem for another group. Or there are huge unintended consequences. But if all groups affected are involved in the decision making you get a lot fewer surprise oops moments. 

Imagine the problems that could be solved if we all just got in the habit of asking the people involved what would actually help. And not just asking, involving. Instead of sitting of panels of people just like us working to fix the problems of people like them, if we had committee made up of all of us. The We part of We the People and we all worked toward solutions that did the most benefit for the most people. 

First do no harm. 
Second do the most possible good. 

Can you imagine if we approached all of the problems in the world with that mindset? 

How much better would it be than:

First find the profit center
Second maximize that profit over everything else

Who are you trying to help? 
Stop answering that question with myself and see how the world changes. 

That Song...

So I finally listened to Rich Men North of Richmond. I'd been avoiding it. It was political fodder before I'd ever heard of it so there was no need. But today it showed up on the recommendations on our TV home screen. I thought, okay, fine, I'll listen. 

A big part of that was because I'd read a few reviews that tried to tackle it just as a song. Not as what it's been turned into. But just a song. And they were fairly favorable. And I, in my life, have listened to a lot of protest type songs. Including my fair share of the working man gets screwed songs, I think Sixteen Tons might be the first one I can remember. 

So I listened. 

And objectively, it's...not good. 

I mean his voice is a bit thin isn't it? I kept reading about his unique tone and I guess unique tone works for it cracks when he tries to sing sing instead of shout sing. I love a raspy voiced singer, I really do, but you have to be able to hold your notes. He doesn't. 

And then there are the lyrics. I mean it really is a mash up of Fox/OAN/Talk Radio headlines right? He's mad about working overtime for nothing, okay, that's your employer. The Rich Man of which you speak. Go get him! Then he bitches about fat people on welfare and how he shouldn't have to pay for them to eat candy. What? You think your problem is someone on welfare? Do you know how little of your taxes go to the social safety net in the first place, let alone to SNAP benefits? And is it your business to police what people eat? And don't even get me started on the food industry and how they've manipulated our food sources over the years to change how we eat and the cheap empty calories that are much easier to afford than whole foods.

Anyway...

He also takes a shot at politicians implying they are all pedophiles on Epstein's island. And I will tell you that I do believe there were some very important people he was dealing with. I don't think it's a conspiracy theory to say so considering there are pictures and interviews with people where they talk about their friendship with him. (See former president current four time indicted Trump) I also believe that he halo shielded himself so there are probably people who were around him at times that had nothing to do with the criminal aspects. There are a lot of stories about him offering up his jet for humanitarian flights, for instance. That's what those types do. Weinstein donated heavily to women's causes, while being a rapist and sexual abuser. It gave him the halo of good guy while most definitely not being one. 

BUT...

This approach that certain people and political parties have taken to label anyone they disagree with a pedo or a groomer is dangerous. People are going to die. And the people who kill them are going to think they are heros for doing it. You already see it happening. And it's bullshit. 

The guitar was nice. I do love the sound of steel guitar. And steel guitars work really well for anything that you want to shortcut into bluegrass type music. So that was a positive.

And the chorus Rich Men North of Richmond is a decent play on words, if you are a South will Rise Again apologist. I mean...can we just go back and start there? I know you can say that he's talking about Washington DC in particular, but by invoking North of Richmond Virginia it's actually a little broader than that right?  It was the capitol of the Confederacy for fuck's sake. 

And that's where we get back to. It's not a good song musically. There are a lot of better singers out there. It's not a good song lyrically. It's kind of all over the place. But it's a great song if you want to sing your dog whistles instead of post them or make speeches about them. 

I'm glad I listened to it to see (hear) what the hype was all about but trust me when I tell you, it's not good. 

In any way. 

Quality Purchase...

It was the beginning of her busy season. End of August through October was when the shop was really swamped. There was a small trickle of true collectors year round, but the dabblers showed up in the Fall. 

And she was always torn. The collectors made her job her joy. They could recognize quality. They could have conversations about the history. They knew what they were looking for and were willing to pay top dollar when they found it. 

But the dabblers kept her in business. 

A true collector might buy a piece from her every few years, if that often. And they rarely told other collectors about her. They hoarded information. They wanted to make sure they had the market cornered on authentic pieces. 

Dabblers? They told everyone. They posted reviews on Yelp and took pictures for their Instagram followers. They did TikToks with music and dance moves. They bought t-shirts and keychains and coffee mugs. Anything to show that they were there.

At first she thought the dabblers might chase off the true collectors, but that's the thing about a true collector, the recognized quality even if it was sitting in the background of silly video of people doing the Wednesday Addams dance in front of a shelf full of trinkets.

The dabblers being so vocal actually seemed to be a draw to a certain level of collector. She knew they were thinking they could keep her a secret if other collectors thought she was just someone catering to the dabblers. Not a serious craftswoman. They could keep her to themselves. Of course they never considered that other collectors were thinking the same thing.

The collectors also assumed that she existed just for them. That when she found exactly the right thing for them it was because she only looked for things for them. Not understanding that she had spreadsheets detailing each of her serious clients, what they liked, what they were missing in their collections, what was on their biggest dream list. She knew who to call to get the top price for a new item. 

And she knew that there would be other collectors that found her through their own networks. The ones that didn't hoard information. The ones that wanted to share information with a large group of people so they had someone to talk to about their own collections. And to see other carefully crafted collections. The convention goers. 

She had been invited to a few over the years. To speak, or to run a booth. She turned down both offers. If even half of the vendors they invited were authentic it could be, well, dangerous might not be right, but not entirely safe. It wasn't in her nature to be imprudent. So she would politely decline, but would send a large quantity of business cards with her regrets. 

Today the store was full of dabblers. Oohing and aahing over her displays. The kitschy items, the mugs and t-shirts with her logo "What A Doll", a few of them actually being drawn to the authentic pieces she had on the floor of the shop. She watched them carefully. They could end up future collectors. Or they could end up buying something they didn't really want. 

There was one group she kept a particularly close eye on. Most of her clientele, the dabblers and the collectors, were female. Collecting dolls, even haunted ones, was not seen as a fit pastime for a man. But there he was. Not acting like he was drug along by a girlfriend or a wife, but there by his own choice. He was a good looking man as well, delicate features, a selling point if you are woman but he probably got teased most of his life for the same bone structure. Dark hair, bright blue eyes, pale, especially for the end of summer, but not an unhealthy looking pale, if he were a woman you'd say he had porcelain skin. Again, not a thing people would say about a man. Sexist societal pressures came from all directions. 

She wondered if he was gay. Not that it was any of her business, but sometimes she did get gay male customers. Though they tended to be interested in the more campy items she sold. The really obvious looking ones. The ones people would mock shudder at when put out for halloween decorations, "oh what a creepy looking doll!" He didn't seem drawn to those items though. 

He seemed to be having a good time with his friends. Looking at items they found, pointing out ones on his own. She could see the group was settling on buying matching t-shirts for all of them. Something to commemorate the trip. Not a bad sale, but nothing remarkable. While her assistant Lacy rang up the sale she took the time to chat up the group. How long were they in town, what all had they seen, how did they hear about her store or were they just passing by and wandered in? Yes she was the owner and yes she made many of the dolls by herself. Did she believe they were haunted? Well that would depend on what you meant by haunted. Some of them reminded you of your childhood or maybe looked like your best friend from kindergarten. Is a memory a haunting? Some of them looked well, off. Is uneasiness a haunting? 

They liked her answers. Dabblers usually did. The collectors wanted specifics and certificates of authentication. In this way she did prefer the dabblers. 

After the group left Lacy asked her what she thought. She said she wasn't sure yet. She would have to wait and see. It was too early to tell but she was hopeful. 

When he came back to the shop a week later her hope blossomed into more. 

He had worn the shirt and the balm she had put on the collar had done its job. He had come back to the store. He wasn't sure exactly why. He hadn't told anyone where he was going. He hadn't mentioned the store at all after the visit. 

She led him to the backroom, then through the door to the basement steps. Down to her workshop they went. He really was remarkable. She led him to the table and he laid down when asked. She strapped him down and he only wondered if maybe she should make the binds a little tighter just incase he tried to get away. He was stronger than he looked. He was very helpful. What a doll. She laughed at her own joke. So did he.

She started the incantation that would transfer all of his being into the plain porcelain doll laying nearby. She was a true craftswoman and remained focused on her work. But she knew when she was done Lacy would have gone over all of the spreadsheets and found the right collector. Male collectors were rare. So were male dolls; this one would pay her mortgage for the next year plus a healthy bonus for Lacy. 

It really was the dabblers that kept her in business. 

Gee, Thanks...

This morning I was looking at something on one of the social apps and a video started auto playing. It was a snippet of a podcast that the algorithm was recommending for me. Okay fine, I'll listen. 

It was a musician being interviewed and he was talking about how he's gone on the offense with his grief. How he deals with it on his own terms now so it doesn't sneak up on him. 

He was talking specifically about his mother dying and how the grief would just blind side him at times. How he'd go for long stretches and be just fine and then BOOM tears. So he decided that he was going to welcome the grief in when he wanted it. He was going to honor her and the grief and it would be his to manage. 

So he does these little things to honor her. Like if he sees a woman who resembles her, or is about the same age as she was, in a coffee shop he'll buy her coffee. He's talking about it and he says, "I tell her this might seem odd, but my mother died and she was around your age and I'd like to buy your coffee." and the podcasters are all like, "Aww, that's so lovely." and then he talks about how he really feels that it's good to do it and the universe gives hims signs. Like a few weeks ago there was a table of women having breakfast in the same restaurant as he was and they were all about his mother's age. So he went up to the table and gave them the I'd like to buy you breakfast in honor of my dead mother who was about your age spiel. One of the women said, "oh my son just died, and he was about your age." 

So they are hugging and bawling and it's just so great. He is really glad he's found this way to experience grief on his own terms and play offense with it. 

So I'm listening to this clip and the tears are streaming down my face because we are just a few days out from the anniversary of Mom's death and today has been one of those in my feels about it days and there have been a few things that have been really emotional, including this clip. 

And I thought, it's great that you get to play offense and deal with your grief on your terms by doing this, but you are the blind side for those other people. Telling them "I'm doing this because my mom is dead and you are her age" is making them deal not only with your grief, but also possibly their own. It just seemed so selfish to me. 

And I'm sure that it's colored by my own mother, but still. 

He's out there managing his own grief and thinking it's so beautiful that he and this woman in the restaurant could bawl together and I'm thinking, maybe she was having a lovely griefless day up until that point. Maybe she hadn't been thinking of her son right then. Maybe breakfast with her friends was the bright spot in her week and you just waylaid her with your own grief. 

So after I listened to the clip I looked up the musician. I didn't think I knew who he was. 

Oh...he sings that song about the guy who is at the bar flirting with a woman but then wants all the credit that he goes home to his wife. It's such an upbeat poppy song about how he should get credit for only mostly being an asshole. 

I'm guessing he and I wouldn't get along in real life. 

Oh Stop...

Sorted clothes today. Mainly to take care of some things I had put aside to post on Vinted. I kept putting it on the list, "Post on Vinted" and then the next week "Post on Vinted" and I finally had to sit down and have a serious discussion with myself. Why wasn't I posting these things on Vinted? 

Well, it turns out that I don't like dealing with people when I'm selling things. Shocking right? It's why I used the "Free in Beaverton" app during the move instead of Marketplace. Even though I probably could have sold a lot of those things. But it frustrates me so much to deal with. Negotiations and people not showing up or trying to nickel and dime you and then you get all defensive about your stuff that you were trying to get rid of in the first place. No thank you, I'll just give it away. 

Vinted was one of those things that seemed like a really good idea. You post your things, someone buys them, then the money is in your account for you to use to buy things from other people who have posted on Vinted. 

And there was my second problem; Second hand clothes. 

I have friends who are amazing thrift and vintage shoppers. Have incredible wardrobes for a lot less money than if they had purchased new. I also know it's so much better for the environment if we don't buy new all the time. Reduce, reuse, recycle, all that good stuff. 

But I also have such a mental block against it. I grew up always wearing second hand clothes. Getting something new was only for very special occasions, like Easter you got a new dress and your new summer sandals for the year. The rest of the time it was shopping at the DAV (second hand shop my folks preferred) where if you went on Tuesdays everything was half off so that .50 pair of pants was only a quarter! Woo!

Because of that I was never ahead of the fashion curve, always two or three cycles behind. It did teach me to find things that were my style instead of what was in style. And the only time it was really embarrassing was when someone recognized something you were wearing as something they had donated. Ugh...

And I really thought I was over it. I mean, I've shopped Goodwill for costume elements and that was fine. But the thought of selling my things and dealing with that and then shopping for someone else's used things just must have been festering in my subconscious because every week it got put on the list, and every week I did not do it. 

So today I pulled all of those things out of the closet to take one more look to make sure I wanted to get rid of them, then did a quick sort of my current closet and put everything in the donation pile. On Friday I'll drop them off and that will be that. 

Now the really good thing is the sort of my main closet only produced a few things. A dress that I can make look good with belts and creative arranging that I finally decided to just let go. And a few sweaters that honestly were just worn out. They were about 15 years old so it's not a surprise. And that was the piece that made me feel better about the clothes I'm getting rid of and the fact that I'm not posting them on Vinted. The things going to the second hand shop are all in good enough shape that someone else will get use out of them. The other things, I reused until they were reduced to not much. And that's good. 

And as for the clothes that are in excellent shape because I didn't really wear them much, bad buys, not the right color or shape or style and I talked myself into them, well those things are sunk costs, baby... (Brent loves it when I use economic theory phrases)

But no, honestly, they are sunk costs. I bought them thinking I would wear them. I didn't. Even if I put them up on Vinted I wouldn't get back what I paid, which honestly is probably not that much because I'm really cheap. But either way, that ship has sailed. It's done. Keeping things I don't like is just silly. 

I'm just really glad that there weren't a lot of those things. 

Now as I branch out and keep building out my wardrobe with things I really like and really want I've got some more closet space and free hangers and room in my head that isn't taken up with the repeated, "I should post those things on Vinted this week" refrain. 

Stop trying to be someone you aren't. Even if that person seems like a really good idea. I am not a post or shop on Vinted person. No matter how great the idea of that person is, she is just not me. 

Now if you'll excuse me I'm off to cross off "Post Clothes on Vinted" from my to do list for the week. 

I'm Alive...Oh Oh So Alive...

 So 54 is no more. Welcome to 55!

Last year I settled on #54FucksSake as the hashtag and as I left you a few days ago I was struggling still with what 55 should be. 

The top contenders became #55StillAlive, which seems like the most basic. Yep. I made it. Not super optimistic or inspiring. Just still alive. woo...yay...oh joy... So that didn't really seem right.

So then we moved to #55StillIStrive. Which kind of sums me up. I mean I'm always trying to do something to get that gold star, right? But holy cow, I mean I'm 55, striving sounds like a lot of work. Shouldn't I be in the glide part of life? #55NowOnGlide?

Then a friend posted their birthday in Roman Numerals with a joke and so I thought hmm, #LVThatsMe or #LVLovely. But it still didn't really hit so...

I went back to the thought that I'm done with this. Until I get to 69 and then it will just be #Nice because I mean...you have to right? I don't think I can top #54FucksSake. It was perfection in a hashtag. There isn't one that really speaks to me. I think the joke played itself to its conclusion. So that's decided.

No hashtag this year. (sorry, Michele!)

So let's move on to birthday goals. 

And...

Last year's goals were to get it together. Or more accurately For Fuck's Sake Get it Together! The house, the wardrobe, the schedule. Those were my highlighted areas. Well, the house still isn't finished, I'm still struggling with getting a good schedule working and I think I've decided to toss out the wardrobe I was building and start again. Good job! For fuck's sake...

So with all of that I've been thinking about goals a lot. My normal goals that I used to set on my birthday that moved to January but with a little overarching set of goals still talked about on my birthday and looking at that list from last year I decided...

I'm going to let that go as well. I'll finish out the marks I set for myself for 2023, because I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't and then I'm going to just let the goals go again. 

I KNOW the last time I tried this was 2020 and that was not good, but I'm hoping that it wasn't really my lack of goals that brought on a world wide disaster, though if it happens again I SWEAR I will have goals on a rotating basis until the end of time. Promise. 

But instead of goals, for 55 and looking to 2024 as a whole, I am just going to try to apply the things that I do now to reach those goals. Instead of goals just this is the way I live my life sort of thing. That at 55 I've found the things that work for me, I've found the things I enjoy, I've found the things I don't enjoy as much but need to do to keep my body working, my house running well, my life in order and I'm just going to do those things. 

For instance:

I want to write more days than I don't. I want to make sure I'm doing a decent amount of fiction, though I have to say writing one to two short pieces a week has been a lot harder than I realized, so I'll go back to if I'm feeling the muse talk you might get nothing but fiction in a week and if I'm not it will all just be me talking to you about whatever is bopping in my head right then. 

I want to keep consistent with working out. I want to keep moving to make sure I can keep moving. 

I want to make sure my house feels like my home. That means it's clean and organized and my favorite things are out where I can see them. 

I want every piece of clothing in my closet to fit. Not just physically but emotionally. Every piece makes me happy to wear. I know that seems like a heavy lift, but I'm pretty easy to make happy so as long as that plain black t-shirt is soft and fits well it makes me as happy as the polka dot dress with the perfect swish to the skirt. Both are wonderful for different days. That's what I want. No clothes that I have just because they fit, or just because at some point I thought that's a style that I should be wearing.  

I want to make sure that what I'm reading feeds me. Intellectually, creatively, spiritually. However many I read in a year, whatever style, I just want them to be good books. 

I'm 55. I'm a full ass grown woman. I've figured some shit out over the years. And I've realized there are things I never will figure out. I'm not striving or gliding. I'm being more than I'm doing. I've embraced my swings and I'm happy when I'm happy and I'm not when I'm not. 

I will continue to share my opinions freely, not at all shocking to any of you. And I will continue to fight for the protection of those that need it. Because I've got 55 years of fight experience behind me (yeah, I wasn't ever supposed to be born so I count EVERY year as a fighting one) and I will put it to good use. 

So here we go, buckle up, I think it's going to be a good ride at 55. 

And if the mood strikes me, next year we might just get our kicks at 56...

Mercy Sakes Alive, Look Who's 55. 

Don't Pick That Up...

This kind of dovetails with yesterday's blog. 

In one of those the Universe thinks you need a working example moments I had a response to a post on Facebook that fit with the #NotAll... theme. 

Now to be perfectly fair the person who had that response, and then a long debate with me over it, I know you are all shocked that I didn't just give the Universe side eye and move along, after that long debate and some more thought about the whole thing they came back and said, You know what? Nevermind. You weren't talking about me.

Which brings me to something I've written about before. 

Don't pick that up. 

If someone lays something at your feet. Or even near your feet and you think, That's not me! Then don't pick it up. Especially if they aren't specifically talking about you. If you think they might be, or they are talking about someone you identify with, but the description they use doesn't apply to you, don't pick it up. 

Even if it seems like they are talking about all people in your group.

If someone says liberals are crazy. And you are liberal. But aren't crazy. Don't pick that up. It's not your label.

Millenials are spoiled brats. But you aren't a spoiled brat. Don't pick that up. It's not yours. 

Gen Xers are nihilists. Well okay, that one is mine and I will pick it up. Kidding, I'm not a nihilist. I just don't believe the same things have value that other people seem to. 

And especially when they aren't being general but specific. Oh I knew someone from Albuquerque once and they were really awful. Don't pick that up. Even if you are from Albuquerque, that's not yours. That's someone else. Just because you are from the same place does not make you the same. 

Hillary Clinton said there were two baskets of people who would vote for Trump, the ones who were disillusioned with the system, who felt they had been left behind and the basket of deplorables. And the MAGAts picked up the deplorable label. Oh she's awful and called us deplorable! No, you picked that up. You called yourself deplorable. There was another basket, you didn't choose that one. 

When you pick it up you tell on yourself a little, in my opinion. 

I've talked about people calling me anti semitic because I don't agree with the state of Israel on their treatment of the Palestinian people. I don't pick that label up. I tell them that's not mine. I might explain to them the difference between not liking a government and not liking a people, but I leave their label on the ground. Especially when it comes from someone who 10 minutes before was talking about a Soros funded conspiracy. Ummm...I think your label fell off and you were trying to give it to me. 

I've talked about how you should handle things like someone saying what you just did is homophobic. Instead of screaming that you aren't homophobic don't pick up that label. Just don't. Instead ask why what you did is homophobic. You might learn something. 

Because you don't have to be sexist, misogynistic, ageist, ableist, racist, homophobic or transphobic to do or say a sexist, misogynistic, ageist, ableist, racist, homophobic or transphobic thing. To do or say those things when you don't know is a mistake. One you can learn from as long as you don't get defensive when someone calls you on it. 

You also might not have done anything of the sort by they can't figure out how to "win" so they throw the label at you and walk away. Don't pick it up. If it's not yours just don't.

So many arguments in life can be avoided if you just don't pick it up. 

If it's not about you, don't make it about you. 

And I know all of that is easier said than done. 

Speak Up...

I was going to do a blog about religion today, and I still am, at least part of it. But there will be a turn and this is going to be two, two, two rants in one!

So...

Listening to NPR this morning and they were doing a news story on the terrorist threat level in Sweden being raised because a few people burned pages of the Qur'an in front of a mosque. This was following a story about Christians in Pakistan being attacked because of rumors of the same thing, that someone desecrated a Qur'an.

I told Brent that when you value a book over actual people there is something wrong with your religion. 

And I know, I know, they view the book itself as sacred no matter how many times it's been reprinted, each version is supposed to be exactly as it was written originally and as such it's sacred. 

Okay. Fine. 

But people are still more important. 

Now on the flip side. Why the fuck are you burning or tearing up the Qur'an? Stop it. It's just rude. It's not your holy book, it's not your religion, you might think that there are people doing horrible things because they think this book tells them to but you KNOW that if you burn it or desecrate it you are going to tip off a wave of violence. People are more important than your act of aggression. 

It's my life philosophy, right? Don't be rude. Just don't. So much of the world's issues could be solved if we stopped being rude to each other. If we stopped being dicks about every damn thing. Just stop. Your religion is yours. Keep it to yourself. Don't try and force it on me through laws, that's just rude. My lack of religion is mine. I will keep that to myself in that I don't burn your holy books or trash your holy sites and I don't make fun of your religion. Your religion is private and I don't care about it.

And right now a lot of you are like WAIT! You criticize my religion all the time!

Yeah, kind of. 

What I do, as I do this with Christianity above other religions because I was raised Christian and I know your rule book, what I do is try to point out when you aren't living by that book. I point out when you are forcing your religion on others in a way that isn't not Christian like at all. When you are practicing bigotry and trying to justify it as part of your religion and I know that it isn't. Because it's important that people do it. But it would be better if it was coming from people who are still practicing the faith. 

Because when I post about terrible Christians I often get the #NotAllChristians response with various levels of defensiveness. And I get it, you don't want to be associated with the Christian Nationalists that are trying to lead us into Fascism for their name's sake... So you should be posting those articles and calling them out for the bullshit they are. You should. You shouldn't be arguing with me about how great you are, you should be using your platform to separate yourself and others like you from those that are using your religion as a shield for hatred. It would mean a lot more coming from you than it does from me. 

I know a few people who are cops. Decent people. Love their families. Doing a job they feel is important. I've posted a few times that the ones that should be the angriest about bad cops are good cops. The bad cops, how many of them they are, how the Police union rallies around them and protects them from any sort of consequences, how EVERY TIME the DOJ does an investigation into a local precinct they find systemic issues, all of that makes it really hard to argue that the A doesn't stand for All. Good cops needs to be railing against the bad ones. They need to be calling attention to bad behavior and challenging it. They need to be the change. The actual change, not the #NotAllCops change, but the ACTUAL change. It would mean a lot more coming from them, with results, than it does coming from me. 

There are people who have left the Republican party. They just couldn't accept what this new party stands for. And...I actually have one friend who is pretty conservative who did as well. Not like sort of politically conservative but actually old school conservative (though you have to go older school than you are thinking because he has no urge to regulate anyone's uterus, that's not the government's job old school conservative). And as an old school conservative you can imagine that we don't agree on a lot, but we do agree on the state of the current Republican party. And he posts articles and opinions (he's a political science major so it's right in his wheelhouse) and points out over and over again that this is not the Republican party he signed on to. And it's why he's not a Republican any more. And it means more coming from him than it does me. Because OF COURSE I think they are awful, they aren't my party, but they were his, until right around 2016... More Republicans need to do the same thing. Stop telling me #NotAllRepublicans and that I'm being horrible and lumping people together if you can't stand apart from them. Point out when they are doing things you don't agree with. It would mean more coming from you than it does me. 

We all know that it should be done. You see people clamoring for people in groups to denounce members of their own group when something happens. "Where are the moderate muslims?" the Republicans cry when there is an attack by radicals. Well where are the moderate Republicans and why aren't they denouncing Trump and January 6th and stealing documents and trying to erase security tape and and and and...Why are they telling you to look at Hunter Biden instead of rallying around ANYBODY else for the 2024 election? It would mean more coming from them. It might even mean they had a shot at the White House again... Which I would fight against tooth and nail, but it would be because I don't like their political policies instead of that I don't want my daughter's life to be in danger, I don't want women to be treated as nothing but brood mares, I don't want marriage equality to be revoked, or any of  the other hateful othering nonsense they are pushing... 

If the call is coming from inside the house you need to answer it, it means more coming from you.

Call it out. 
Speak up.

If you are part of that group, or you were part of it, then speak on it. Use the language you were taught in that group and call the bullshit out.

Make it mean something. 

Seasons Change...

Pulling up random blogs from mid Augusts past and reading through them. Seems like this is the time of year I talk about changes. Which makes sense. It's right before my birthday, it's right before September, which as many of you know used to be my goal setting time, Fall just feels right for new starts to me. So I start thinking about changes. 

Changes I want to make in my own life. Changes I see happening in the world. Just changes.

And it's funny (sad?) how many times something I wrote years and years ago I could just post again with very few changes (instead of PC switch it to Woke) and it would apply today. 

So does that mean that nothing really changes? That no matter what we do we are stuck on this treadmill and not really going anywhere?

How depressing to ponder. 

But maybe it's not that exactly. 

I mean 14 years ago (can you believe I've been doing this for 14 years?) I would never have written about how shitty the world is to trans people because there weren't that many trans people living public lives. The acceptance of trans people was so low that in Katie's graduating class there were zero trans kids. And she went to a creative arts high school. Where there was wide acceptance for LGB students. Just not a lot of T to be had. And it's not that there weren't trans kids, there have been multiple kids (not just Katie) who have come out since graduation. They just didn't feel comfortable doing it back then. In a liberal high school, in a liberal city, in a liberal state.

So even though there is a problem, the shitty treatment, there is actually a positive, the greater representation. 

The World Cup is wrapping up this weekend and there have been multiple stories about it being the "gayest World Cup ever" and that's great. Except it's probably not, not the gayest, not that it hasn't been great. The World Cup four years ago, eight years ago, since the first one in 1991, odds are there were a lot of lesbians playing. So those were still very gay, they just weren't very out. That's a huge positive. Even if Alexi Lalas is not comfortable with it all. Or maybe it's a huge positive because of that. (I have never been able to stand the man and he's just given me justification for it finally, though to be fair he just said he wasn't happy about how polarizing the women's team and Rapinoe especially are, he could be racist or sexist and not homophobic, but odds are it's a yes and situation, in my opinion)

So again, problem, the book bans and groups trying to push us back into marriage inequality and legalized discrimination but also good, out and proud representation. Which makes it much hard to get the general public to get behind your hate laws. 

Bad, Trump and *waves vaguely* all that. Good, he didn't win the second time. And hopefully won't win when he runs again. 

Bad, the world is meaner and nastier. Good, people are calling it out. Which makes it seem even meaner at times, but nobody should have to put up with the bullshit and the fact that fewer people are willing to is good. I'm hopeful that this will be a course correction at some point and we will stop being nasty to each other at this rate, but with a reset on what is acceptable. 

So though we are doing a lot of the same things, it seems, we are doing them from different starting places. 

Things have changed. Things have shifted. It's just that I am still pushing for more. 

That's what hasn't changed. 

And it's funny because every once in awhile I see comments under old posts about "slippery slopes" and what next, and if they get to change this then what about this?? And usually I'm like, okay. Sounds good. Let's keep going. What if the slippery slope leads us to accepting people for who they are not who we think they should be? What if we change offensive mascot names and then we stop thinking about different cultures on some sort of ranked scale? What if we tear down Confederate monuments and stop waving battle flags from treasonous actions and then we stop glorifying those ideals? I mean, yeah, what if?

So yeah. August is time for me to think about changes. And I'm always going to be thinking about those changes. I just need to remember that as frustrating as it can be, we can move that needle. We can push that rock up the hill. We can start to grease that fucking slope. 

Change can be good. 

Progress is better. 

Out of Touch...

She first noticed it with the touch screens. Nothing would work. 

"Just swipe."

"I am swiping, nothing is moving."

"Look, here, watch."

"Do you think this is complicated? Like I am somehow not understanding the process? Put your finger on the screen and move it around seems like something you need to explain to me?"

"Well, I mean, you aren't doing it."

"No, I am doing it. The screen isn't responding."

That was the conversation, or some variation, each time she tried to get a phone or a computer monitor repaired. Finally one repair shop suggested she use a stylus. They had some that worked the same way a finger would, maybe that would be her answer. And it was. As long as she never lost her stylus she was fine. 

Then the sinks and the towel dispensers stopped working.

You know the ones. The automatic ones in public restrooms. No matter how she put her hands under, around, near, on top of, the sensors they wouldn't work. She couldn't trick them with her stylus either. Sometimes she'd just ask someone to run their hands under the sensor to turn on the water so she could at least rinse off. At least the toilets all had override buttons. She started carrying paper towels and hand sanitizer in her purse and that was fine. 

Until the doors stopped working. 

Do you know how many automatic doors there are in your day to day life? The number of places that just automatically open to you as you walk up to them. You walk up, the door opens, you go through, the door closes. Easiest thing in the world. Except for her. She'd walk up and nothing. Usually there was someone else going in or leaving that she could just drift with, but sometimes she was stuck there waving at the other side trying to get someone's attention. They would walk over to see what she needed, the door would open, and she'd be back in business.

She needed to stop at the grocery store one afternoon just to grab some cheese for dinner. A quick stop. In and out in five minutes tops. Except the store was really empty. It took her five minutes to get someone's attention to walk toward the door to open it. Then the only lanes open to check out were the self check lines. She'd left her stylus in the car so she couldn't use them. Heading up to the customer service desk to see if they could check her out she ended up in line behind two other women. 

"I can't use the self check out. The touch screen is broken. Nothing happens when I touch it."

"I will show you how."

"Do you think put your finger on the screen is complicated and i'm just not understanding it? They don't work."

"They seem to be working for them." with a gesture toward the line of people successfully checking out by themselves.

"Well they don't work for me."

"That's why I'm in line as well, I can't ever get those screens to work."

She lifted her hand, "Me too. I have a stylus I use for my phone, but I left it in the car. So I need a checker. If you want to walk over and touch the screen for all of us, that would work as well."

"I don't understand the problem. You just touch it."

"And we are telling you, that nothing happens. So either you can ring us out here, or you can come touch the screen there, or we can walk out with our groceries for free? That seems like another option as well."

Even as she said it she realized she was bluffing. She couldn't walk out of there unless someone let her out. But it worked. He went over to the self check out and pushed all of the right buttons to let them get on their way. 

When she was done and walked out with a lovely young family who triggered the door just fine she found the other two women waiting for her in the parking lot. 

"When did it start?"

"Excuse me?"

"When did it start for you? Or I guess when did it stop? When did the touch screens stop working?"

"A few years ago. I mean, it was gradual really. It wasn't like one day I woke up and my screens didn't work. They just stopped working all the time. Then eventually stopped completely."

"How old are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"How old are you? They stopped for me when I turned 58."

"They stopped for me at 63."

"I just turned 65. So they would have stopped around 62 I guess."

"Yeah, I've never met another under 60. A few who are still fine well into their 80s though. But 60s seems to be the time."

"The time?"

"When technology just escapes you. You no long are able to keep up. I always thought it was funny when my parents couldn't program the clock on their VCR, I thought they just couldn't figure out the buttons. Now I know the buttons just rejected them."

"The buttons rejected them?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense, right? Designed obsolescence. You've heard of that right?"

"When a product only lasts so long before it just breaks and you replace it with a new version? Sure."

"I think this is designed obsolescence."

"But they work fine for other people."

"Oh no, not the products. Us. They are making things that don't respond to older people. We are obsolete. Life is for the young and all that. I imagine one by one things will just stop working for us until we finally get the hint and die."

"So...tell us about this stylus you have. Does it work on sinks?"

Sad...

I'm not built for the heat. 

Which is really weird considering I was born in a desert in the middle of August. 

But I hate the heat and it's not terribly fond of me, I tend to get really nauseated in the heat now. 

We are in a short (hopefully it stays short!) heat wave right now. Will be over 100 for the next couple of days. It was 100 yesterday, 106 today, 104 Tuesday, 100 Wednesday, then all the way down to 90 on Thursday. I keep watching the temps for Sunday because we have a soccer match and I've already had a couple where I spent the first half inside the Key Bank Club with the AC watching on the instadium screens. 

I am just not built for heat. And it's worse now that I'm older. 

When Brent was on Sabbatical last time we went to Maui in September. We normally go in the winter so we can watch whales but Sabbatical lined up to take the trip in September. The locals had always told us that it was pretty much the same weather. Not much difference really. 

They lied. Oh my gosh they lied. It was so hot. And humid. 

Better than a lot of other places, but hot enough we decided to stick with winter trips. 

Though I have to say the one really nice trade off was that the water was super warm. During the winter the water is lovely, but it is a bit chilly first thing in the morning, during the summer it's not. Just wonderfully comfortable. And smooth. And clear. So there was that bonus.

We still decided to not ever vacation there during the summer. 

So even with deciding to take our quick time off trip to Michigan last week we would never have been in Maui during the fires last week. We wouldn't have experienced the fear of watching the wall of flames come toward us. We wouldn't have had to run to the ocean and stay there waiting for a rescue boat. We wouldn't have felt that heat, that terror, that loss. 

Even so we are shattered. Just devastated. Seeing places we go practically every year as piles of ash. Knowing that just a block off of the marina are houses. Lots of houses. Whole neighborhoods of locals. And housing is hard to come by in Maui. It's expensive. Locals have a really hard time managing as it is. See, I don't know if you know this or not, but often times people with money are assholes.They come in and buy the smaller houses near the beach and rent them out as AirBnBs. Or leave them empty when they aren't using them as vacation homes.

A lot of locals live Up Country, and there were fires there too. Houses lost. And a house Up Country can house multiple people. Because it's what a lot of the young people who work in Maui can afford. Five or six of them living in one small place. Just someplace to sleep and shower. 

When we visit we always try to make sure we spend money with locals. And that we tip well. We know we are the visitors, the intruders in their lives. And we are grateful to be welcomed. And we try very hard to show that gratitude. 

We aren't assholes. 

We've donated directly to one of the companies we always do business with. They've been running rescue and relief operations since the fire started. The owners lost their house. Quite a few of the crew lost their houses as well. And yet they keep working to help others. The first night of the fires they pulled people from the ocean who had dived in to avoid the flames. Then they spent the next few days running supplies up to Kaanapali by boat for the locals, then picking up tourists and taking them to Makena where they could catch a shuttle bus to the airport. The road between that part of the island and the airport was not accessible for a few days. So to get people off the island they had to be shuttled by boat. To get supplies up to that part of the island it had to be by boat. We have always loved our time with them on the water, and now we have an opportunity to give back a little to them as they give all they have to everyone else. 

We donated to the Maui Strong charity for more general help to more people. They are getting funds out to the community as quickly as possible to help people who need everything. The fire moved too fast for people to grab much of anything. Maybe their phone and the clothes on their backs. Everything else is just gone. They need everything. Money is what we can send easily so we did that. Hopefully there will be supply shipments coming in, and not price gouged, so they can access that and rebuild. 

We have a standing donation to World Central Kitchen and they are there running meals out of the community college. They are always there. There being wherever people need help. That's why we give to them monthly. There is always someplace that someone needs help. 

We don't have masses of money. We aren't the super rich. But we are comfortable enough to be able to vacation in Maui almost every year. Giving back to the community when they need it so desperately is the least we can do to be helpful.

We try really hard not to be assholes.

I'm not sure when we will be back on Maui. They are going to need time and resources to rebuild. They are going to need space to make it happen. But they are also going to need tourist dollars to help fund everything. Because Maui is dependent on tourist money. Unless they find a way, which there are a lot of groups working toward that solution, to make Maui sufficient without the tourists. I'm not sure how the recovery will play out. But we will help how we can. 

Don't be an asshole. It's just a good life motto. 

New Hashtag Time!

Okay, we are at one week left of #54FucksSake time to start thinking of a new theme. 

#StillAlive55

#55StillIStrive

#DoubleNicklesOhThatTickles

#55ThatsNoJive

#ICantDrive55

Hmm..that's why I start early.

Maybe 55 will be the year I don't do a goofy hashtag for my birthday. I mean I've let go of C&C month so maybe now is the time to let go of the hashtags? 

When do you feel a joke has run its course? And when you get that feeling do you try and push through until it's funny again?

Like the whole physical gag, step on a rake once it's funny, twice it's less funny, three times it's not funny at all, but get to 10 or more and it's hilarious. 

So do I push through? 

Or do I take the lack of inspiration as a hint that it's just done. 

Whatever I do I should not have Googled "best hashtags for 55" the top result was all about senior living!

What the actual fuck? I mean...

I know that I will be four years older than Wilford Brimley was when he made Cocoon but he was the anti Paul Rudd so that shouldn't count. 

And I get it, I will be older than Blanche was and as old as Dorothy and Rose during the first season of The Golden Girls but that was a different time and we thought of old as starting earlier. 

Right? 

I mean, look at your parents at the age you are now, they were a lot older than you are right? RIGHT? Help me out here...

Actually, I'm just kidding. My dad turned 55 when I was still in high school. So we were getting the student discount and the senior discount when we went to the movies. At the time it started at 55, I think now you have to be 60, which only proves my point that people were older when we were younger. Or something like that...

But anyway...

I'm still not really bothered by age. Not in the way a lot of people seem to be. My darling husband, for instance, hates when I say things like we are over a half century old. Whereas I think that's kind of cool. 

I am bothered by the drumbeat of time and the way it affects my body. My mind might not have a problem with aging but my knees are still like, Yeah, this sucks. 

I am bothered by the relentless march of time when I stop for a second and realize that Jack died at 58 from a massive heart attack that had no warning signs. The aneurysm that killed Brent's uncle happened when he was 60. Then time can fuck right off. 

My father's first heart attack was at 55, that doesn't worry me as much. It probably should as my cholesterol keeps climbing. It's high, it's not terrifyingly high but it's high. And it just nudges ever higher every year. But I tell myself that I am fine. I work out. I eat okay. I mean, I should cut back on sugar and that might even help my cholesterol but let's not think about that too much...

But because I have most of memories of my parents from their 40s and onward I've never really put much stock into youth. They also both aged well. Heart attacks, knee replacements and the ravages of cancer notwithstanding. They were younger than a lot of younger people. The N in L/N spent a day with them one year and was like, How are your parents so much younger than my mother and they are 20 years older? Some people get old quicker. My parents took a long time to get there.  

I'm hoping Brent and I hold out even longer. I say all the time that I want us both to live to be 100. It's a nice round number. It's a good sized number. When you hear someone has living to be 100 you think, that's a long life! I want us both to make it to 100. A healthy 100. Mentally clear. As physically able as you can be in a 100 year old body, but 100. It's goal. 

You all know how much I like my goals.  

So maybe:

 #55IveStillGot45

Graceful...

Her face was peeling off. It felt so dramatic to say it that way, but that was the truth. She had gone into an office, they had applied an acid, and now her face was peeling off. In another day or so she would go back into the office, they would exfoliate any of her old face that was left, and she would have a new face.

And it would look just like her old face.

But better somehow.

She wasn’t sure why she subjected herself to this. Why wasn’t she one of those women who could just age gracefully. Or maybe not even gracefully but with a giant dose of fuck you. This is aging. It’s natural. We get wrinkles. We get age spots. Aging is beautiful.

But she was not that sort of woman. She was the sort of woman who paid a lot of money to have acid rubbed all over her face.

And when this healed, she was going to have a vampire facial for those stubborn wrinkles. Little needles, filled with her own platelets, puncturing her face all over to form new collagen production. And if that didn’t work then she’d get a little extra filler around her lips to get rid of those stubborn pucker lines, and a few in those annoying nasal folds. Eventually she would have a smooth, plump, age-defying face.

And when people said, “Oh you look so great!” she would claim good genetics. And she would ignore the unspoken or even worse, spoken, “For your age.”

Maybe it was good genetics, her mother did the same. Kept the local plastic surgeon in business until she died at the ripe old age of…well she didn’t know honestly. Her mother’s age was a tightly kept secret. She sometimes gave an age that would be impossible considering the age of her children. But usually, she just smiled and told people she would never tell. She railed against aging gracefully until her last breath. Literally. She made the nurse put fresh lipstick on her before the priest came in to read her last rites.

And what was aging gracefully anyway? Who needed that sort of judgement? What does that even mean, aging gracefully? Is it graceful to age naturally and just let everything fall and droop and discolor? Or was it fighting it with cosmetics to cover up any signs of aging but not actually change them? What does graceful even mean? Ballerinas are graceful right? Ever look at a ballerina’s foot? They are disgusting. Toenails falling off, blood-soaked toe shoes, warped feet that never recover.

Nobody understood the pain that graceful took.

They only saw what they wanted to see. The beautiful part. They ignored everything else. The work, the struggle, the acid peels. But better they ignored the work as long as they didn’t ignore her. She refused to become one of the invisible women. Women past their prime that could walk down a street and no one would see them. Women in a restaurant that nobody paused to stare at. Women who weren’t ever seen. Looked past, looked through, ignored for a younger woman. A more desirable one. She held on to her desirability. With hands that had their age spots bleached off and fingernails always done in the current shape and style.

Like a work of art. Nobody saw the brushstrokes, the time it took to look like she did. They just saw her quiet beauty and were drawn to it.

Her nieces were different. They were the ones on the street protesting. Holding up signs yelling about everything. Demanding that people pay attention to them. Care about them. She admired their passion but worried about their skin. All of the sun damage. And when she’d remind them to wear sunscreen, they’d smile but then roll their eyes. She was a bit of a joke to them.

She wondered sometimes what a child of her own would have been like. But the one thing her mother consistently regretted was what having children had done to her body. Some things you just never recovered from. That much skin stretching, even though she had only gained 15 pounds with each pregnancy, that she had lost within 6 weeks of giving birth, it still gave her a tiny little pooch in her lower belly that no amount of liposuction or tummy tucking could seem to get rid of.

Even though to her, her mother’s stomach always looked, not flat, but concave. Hollow. Even when she would pinch invisible pockets of fat and tell her, “This is what you did to me. Ruined really. Ruined.”

So, no children for her. She had thought about adopting but even that seemed a fraught choice. So many of her friends who were mothers looked so much older than they had before. Not just the time passing, but the times that they had sleepless nights or gotten sick because the kids had brought home every cold and flu they were exposed to. Her brother called his own children “adorable little germ factories” when they were little. She had laughed at that and then made sure to go wash her hands after hugging them.

And the time involved. Children were a lot of time. How did you make it to the gym? Or the nutritionist’s office? Not to mention the money. How did you afford your own care when you had to pay for summer camps and music lessons and braces and whatever else children might need.

She had focused on herself. On keeping herself in mint condition as her first husband used to say. Or was it her second? She was pretty sure it was the first. Definitely not the third. That one had not been a talker.

She was just glad she wasn’t married right now. Booking a hotel while she healed from the face peel would have been inconvenient. She would have done it, she had gone away to “spas” before in her marriages, so it could be done, but something about recovering in her own house was lovely. And really, she didn’t think she needed to marry ever again.

She had married often, yes, but she had also married well. She had never left a marriage with less than she entered it with. That was the sign of a good marriage in her mind. She had remained friends with most of her ex-husbands. And of course, still felt the loss of the ones who had passed. She was never sure if she should call herself a widow since she had remarried and then divorced after each of those marriages. Does widowhood end with a remarriage? Or are you a divorcee widow? A double divorcee, widow, divorcee, widow, double divorcee, single gal on the go?

Though now that she was thinking about it, it was the sixth husband who made the mint condition joke. It was right before she divorced him. Because he hadn’t said she was still in mint condition he had said she was losing a battle to keep herself in mint condition. And he had said it in public. Which was unforgivable.

She wasn’t in mint condition. She knew that. But people needed to have the good graces to pretend that she was. To acknowledge the work she put in, without ever directly acknowledging the work she was putting in. To pretend with her that the acid and the platelets and the filler all worked. That she looked good, not for her age, but for any age.

To see that she was aging gracefully without acknowledging the blood in her shoes.

Deadheading...

I was trimming my flowers today. Taking the dead blossoms off of the geraniums. I'll work on the others tomorrow morning. I want to get them tidied up and rid of the dead heads before next week. We've got a heat wave heading our way and I don't want them to have anything they are directing energy at except for what will do them the most good. I want them to have the best chance at surviving and thriving.

Oh look...it's a metaphor. 

It's really why I cut back on Facebook in July and why I'm working on how I fit it all back in my life in August. What serves me best? What am I putting my energy toward? And is this doing me the most good?

I figured out I still don't want to drop it completely, because I have friends who I only see in that space. And I miss seeing their lives when I'm not checking in. 

I figured out I don't want to mindlessly scroll through it because the majority of the time I see the same things, and most of those things are ads. 

I know that for the most part I do not want to read comments on posts. I mean, sometimes I want to check in and see what's being said because I need inspiration for a blog, but mostly I just don't want to see the crap that people spew on public posts. My god the ignorance and hate is stunning.

So how do we trim those things that don't serve us so we can focus our energy only on the things that do?

It's like my whole life quest. All of the goals I set for myself. All of the challenges. Everytime I try something new or cut something out. It's all in search of that piece. That peace.

How do I keep the things that matter and jettison the things that don't?

And doesn't that seem like such an easy thing? Like obviously we don't do things we don't like, or that aren't good for us, or that aren't serving us. But we do. All the time. Not just the doom scrolling on social media, but the times we keep people in our lives that aren't good for our health. Mental or physical.

Do you have that friend that you know you are going to drink too much with? Does that serve you? Could you keep them in your life without the alcohol or is that the whole basis for your friendship?

Do you have friends in your life that aren't really all that friendly? They are snarky and mean and say things that seemed designed just to make you feel like shit. 

Do you have a compulsion to check those comments under the posts about women's soccer even though you know it's full of sunglasses truck guys huffing about 'Murica? 

I mean...it's easy to say ditch the unhealthy relationships and don't look at the comments but it's a whole other thing to actually do it. 

What if you get rid of the drinking friend and realize that you don't have any other friends that are that close? Isn't an unhealthy night out worth the friendship? And you have so many friends in common with the snarky mean one that dropping them is complicated. Other people will want to know why and then it will become a deal and you don't want it to be a deal so isn't it just easier to grin and bear it when they say "oh, you are so brave to wear that at your age" And sometimes the comments are wonderful and uplifting and sunglasses truck guys haven't shown up yet so you can get in and out when it's all roses. 

And sometimes you don't actually know what is serving your best interests. Like you legit don't realize something is unhealthy until you stop. Or you don't realize you would like something else until you try it. How many times have you seen people leave jobs or relationships that YOU knew were bad for them, but they were absolutely stunned to find out how much better they felt on the other side. And if you are seeing it for them, trust that they can see some of those areas for you. 

We are bad at figuring out stuff that should be really easy to figure out. 

It's okay, it's not really your fault. We've been socialized to be bad at it. You've been told your whole life to suck it up and do X, Y or Z because you have to. And sometimes you do. I'm not going to lie. I think there is a lot to be said for sucking it up and just dealing when you have to. The problem is we carry that over into spaces where we don't have to, we just don't know how to not.

I still have a hard time putting down a book once I've started it. Which is slightly crazy. If it's not enjoyable there is no reason to finish it, but I keep thinking, maybe it gets better, or I've already started it so I should just finish. I'm better than I used to be. I give it a little bit and if it doesn't grab me, no matter how highly recommended it is, I bail. Usually. Unless it's one of my goal books for the year, then I finish. Because I'm bad at not finishing things. 

Even if they aren't serving me. 

I have a hard time unfollowing businesses because I'm afraid it will hurt their feelings let alone unfriending people who I should not be friends with. I do it. But it takes a whole pep talk and preparation and then a close my eyes and mash the button moment. Even if the business isn't something I need to know about or the friendship ran its course a long time ago.

What serves you best?

As for me, I'll keep pruning and replanting and seeding new areas. Maybe I'll figure it out. 

Here's Where it Starts...

Four years ago today I got the text from my sister that Mom had decided to die. 

Then we spent what seemed like almost the whole month of August waiting for her to go. 

She stopped eating first. Then finally realized that as long as she was still drinking she could hold out for longer so she stopped that too. It took a little over two weeks from when I got the text (which was a couple of days after she had stopped eating, my sister waited to see if she was going to change her mind) to when she finally passed. On my grand niece's birthday, which of course was the worst day for it to happen. 

Looking back it's hard to believe it was only 2 1/2 weeks of waiting. It seems like it was longer. But time stretches when you are waiting for your mother to die. 

Those first 8 days of August 2019 were the last days of Cake and Compliments Month. I mean, I tried to hold it together that year, and tried to give it a comeback the next two but I gave up. Didn't even try last year. And it's so gone that I was looking at my calendar today trying to figure out when to do something and was honestly surprised to see my birthday on it at all. 

I'm always trying to figure out when it will get better. Like how long after Dad died did I feel okay with knowing my dad was dead? And I think it was when my mother died. Because up until that point part of the grief of my father dying was that my mother was without him. Which she did not want to be. 

And even then, "okay with it" is a sliding scale. Are we ever really okay with it? Even when someone has been sick and you know they are no longer in pain and so part of you is relieved for them, there is always the part of you that would like all of the people who are important to you to always be here. 

And I think, which I've talked about before, the fact that we waited to have her funeral in October so Uncle Denny and Aunt Carol could make it made it harder as well. Because from August to October nothing was "finished." We were in this hold pattern of wait for that until after the funeral. Knowing that you can't move on because you are going to be steeped in grieving as soon as the funeral comes. 

And then came 2020. 

All of us grieving for so many things while my grief for Mom was still so raw. Life didn't get back to "normal" instead "normal" took a walk and never came back. And then we lost Brent's mother too. Suddenly we are just adult orphans trying to figure out why that should be a problem. I mean, we didn't live in the same city as our mothers did. We didn't see them very frequently. We didn't even talk to them more than once every month or so. Longer for me once my mother started not wanting to talk on the phone, longer for him before the pandemic when we could go a few months without speaking. 

But somehow that feeling of being untethered in the world still hit us both. 

There are regrets, of course, that come. Unfinished business. Things that weren't said that will never be said now. And then there are pockets of relief, which is probably even worse at times.

My mother was sick. She was lonely. She never stopped grieving the loss of my father. She was fading away from us mentally for a while. She was so ready to die she would tell you all the time. Then she finally decided to just make it happen. Not suicide, that's against her religion, so she would never had said it was suicide, assisted or not. But...well...helping death through the door. She decided she was done. 

There was a family history, I've probably written about it before. Her grandmother, when her grandfather died, she wrapped things up. Sold the farm, wrote to all of the family, said her piece to everyone and then she died a few months after he did. Just went to sleep and didn't wake up. No signs of "foul play" or self inflicted wounds or overdose. Just pure force of will. She didn't want to live without her husband and so she didn't. But she was a responsible sort so she took care of all the business first. Amazing. 

I think my mother was mad that she hadn't been able to pull off the same stunt. 

And, honestly, without an autopsy her grandmother might have had help herself as well. We will never really know. 

But I know my mother made a choice. 

And four years ago I got the text messages saying that it was coming and to prepare myself. 

And someday I hope I will have. 

Help Yourself #8...

Long title for this month's choice: The Wellness Trap: Break Free from DIET CULTURE, DISINFORMATION, and DUBIOUS DIAGNOSIS--and Find Your True Well-Being by Christy Harrison, MPH, RD

Not quite the same as a true self help book, honestly kind of an anti-self help books book. More a watch out for these things sort of book. 

It was good. Not just because I agree with a lot of what she was talking about, but I am sure that was a big part of it.

It's a book about how Wellness itself has become an industry. That even as people are starting to push back against the diet industry the Wellness industry has grown like crazy. Think about diets, work out programs, essential oils, supplements, goop as a whole. All of it rolls into the whole wellness idea. And we all want to be healthy and happy and it seems like it's pretty harmless. Except when it's not.

She did a whole section on the crunchy to conspiracy link that leads a lot of people from wanting to buy organic vegetables to becoming anti-vaxxers. And how the "natural" health MLM folks target stay at home moms when they are feeling their most vulnerable. She also talked about how you cannot get someone who is a conspiracy theorist to change their mind by showing them studies and trying to logic them out of their beliefs. How it all gets wrapped up in to the conspiracy. 

She also touched on one of my own personal eye rolls, which a LOT of people never mention and I appreciated that she did. The fetishization of indigenous cultures. How we (speaking in the generic white people we here) put a lot of lip service to "This natural cure is the best because it's from the (insert local tribe here) people." and we ignore all of the cultural reasons for why they used that particular plant, or that particular salve, or tea. We take the herb and turn it into a product.

It's not just here in the US or in Canada with Native Americans or First Persons, it's all over the world. Imagine a place where white people have rampaged in an colonized and you've got a product that's been taken from the culture and marketed as a cure all, but without all of the cultural significance behind it. You aren't really practicing yoga, you are doing the poses from a yoga practice, sort of thing. Might be beneficial, for sure, stretching and meditation can be super helpful, but it's really not correct to say you are practicing yoga, which is a lot more than just the poses. 

She also gave a good little recap of the SIFT method for checking out things you hear. And this works for anything you see on line, not just things in the Wellness category. 

Stop

Investigate the Source

Find better coverage

Trace claims, quotes and media to the original context.

Basically when you read something, ESPECIALLY something that triggers an emotional knee jerk reaction, follow the SIFT method to check it out. Stop reading what you are currently looking at. Open a new tab (assuming you are online here) and Google the source, who are they? Do they have a history of posting nonsense or inflammatory rhetoric? Or are the highly credentialed and respected?  Find better coverage, which is tricky. But basically go see who all is reporting this blockbuster news. Is it all fringe publications or only publications that cater to a certain subset of people? Is there something in a reputable news source that address this? Trace claims, quotes and media to the original context. This one is always so important. A quote can be cropped to make it seem like the person is saying the opposite of what they were actually saying. A study can be quoted as proving something and then when you find the study it does nothing of the sort. And sometimes the study itself is really flawed. Look at the process used for the study, the sample size, the methodology. 

And don't ever share stuff that you haven't checked out. Not even with a "If this is true..." caveat. It just helps to spread mis and dis information and feeds that nasty algorithm. Which she talks about as well. How easy it is to end up down the rabbit hole of Wellness because the algorithm keeps feeding you more and more extreme information. 

It wasn't a lot of deep details, mostly a good overview book. She covered a lot of information in a few pages. But I think that's what she was trying to do. To touch on all of the ways you need to be careful. Basically to make you a little more cynical. Which, of course, I think is a great idea. 

So FINALLY I'm back on track with a self help book that I found helpful. 

What would 20 something me have gotten out of it? Well she'd have been really confused because most of what was talked about in this book wasn't around 30 years ago but...I think the general theme of don't believe everything you read, verify information, all of that would have been well received. And it might have saved me a few thousand dollars over the past decades in trying the latest new thing. 

Yes, even as cynical as I am, I am a sucker for the Wellness Industry too. Aren't we all looking for the latest and greatest thing? And I really do want to believe that that particular lotion is going to make my skin look fantastic, or that one supplement is the answer to my wildest fitness dreams. Generally I don't believe it, but sometimes...sometimes I do. 

This is a good reminder to really do that extra layer of research, real research not reading a few more blog posts by randos touting how great is was and you can buy it through this link, but do that extra due diligence before trying it out. 

Now to start thinking about what next month's book will be. Hopefully I'm at the start of an upswing!

 

Oh My...

Today was biopsy day. 

Since I had to have one last year I knew what to expect from this one. So of course I've been dreading it. 

But I have to say there was a world of difference between the two clinics.

Last time I was there for the appointment about bleeding and the doctor said she wanted to biopsy and do an ultrasound and we could just do the biopsy right then, no waiting. Slaps me up on the table and BAM! OH HOLY SHIT YOU DID NOT WARN ME THAT IT WOULD HURT LIKE THAT! Does it once, then does it again, WITHOUT WARNING ME.

This time with the new practitioner in a different clinic, she said, Hey, okay, so you've got bleeding again and that is not ideal but I'd like to start with an ultrasound and if we see something of concern then we will do a biopsy. But I'd really like to start with the ultrasound. 

Great! 

Well there was something of concern so I had to schedule a biopsy, but at least there had been a glimmer of hope that the only slightly uncomfortable test would be all I needed.

Get a call from her nurse and a note in my MyChart from her. To prep, make sure you eat that day and are well hydrated to prevent dizziness, about an hour before the appointment take a large dose of ibuprofen.

Go in for the procedure and she walks me through all the steps, tells me exactly how many samples they will have to take. Uses lidocaine on my cervix so it won't hurt as much as they force it open. Gives me a heat pack to try and help with the pain a little. Super apologetic about the pain and discomfort. Did what she called baby breaks between each sample to give me a chance to get back to baseline from OH HOLY SHIT

Both times it hurt like fuck. There is no way around it hurting like fuck. They are taking samples of your uterus. But at least the second time I felt like a person not a test dummy.

She also had an alternative to the hormones I was taking lined up to talk to me about. It will depend on the results from the biopsy, but she was ready to go with the next steps if it's all good. 

Good medical care shouldn't be a crap shoot. 

It really shouldn't. 

But I'm glad that for at least this little session I have a good team. 

Oh...and they said no sex for a week while everything heals and I just want to know what sick fuck gets three hole punches out of their uterine wall and thinks...you know what sounds good right now? Sex. 

Whoever you are, you are not okay, and I am judging you. 

And It's One, Two, Three Strikes....

...and he's still not out. 

Third indictment and it won't make a bit of difference to his base.  

Listening to a story on NPR this morning and they were talking to people in upstate New York (really red area) about the latest indictment and what that meant to them and their support. And they said it made them support him even more because it just showed that he was right and they were out to get him. 

There was a smattering of it's not a big deal, it's been overblown by the media, he was right the election was rigged and the ever popular January 6th was a false flag operation from ANTIFA.

The election wasn't rigged and it wasn't ANTIFA.

It's not been overblown, it was an insurrection. They stormed the fucking Capitol. We watched it happening live. 

But it won't matter. 

None of it matters to them. 

And they still say things like how he was great for the country and he will fix things if he's elected again and how much better things were. His current lawyer said three years ago we had no inflation, we were energy independent and the border was secure. Well three years ago we had refrigerator trucks lined up outside of hospitals because the morgues were full. Oh right...full blown pandemic times and he was on TV fighting with his own Public Health officials. 

And even if he's convicted it won't change their minds. Or at least most of them.

They have too much of themselves wrapped up in him to move away from it now. It would be a really difficult thing to look at all of your MAGA merch and realize you had been duped. To look at how much you've donated, how much time you've spent defending him, how positive you were that you were right and your ignorant cousin Jill was wrong...there is no way that you can let that be true. So...

The active ignoring of facts will probably get harder to do, but there are people out there who swear Nixon was set up so it's not impossible. 

As for the man himself, he's said even if he's tried and convicted he would still run for office. And as we have no laws saying he can't, he will. AND PEOPLE WOULD VOTE FOR HIM.

I mean...

I'm still not holding my breath that he pays any sort of real price for everything he's done. And he's done so very much. I'm as bad as the other side in my belief that he will skate free. I just don't think it's because he's innocent. I think it's because I've never seen anything that would lead me to believe he won't get away with it. People seem to line up to take the fall for him. 

He's got people donating to pay his legal bills for fuck's sake. I mean, they're complaining about how expensive everything is and still paying for the "I'm rich, believe me." asshole's bills? What? And the Republicans running against him for the primary are all agreeing with him that the vote was rigged, the system is out to get him, he did nothing wrong, so they are just reinforcing that he should be the candidate instead of them all getting together and saying, he's crooked. He's so dishonest he doesn't even know what honest is. They are all just hoping something happens where he won't run and they can scoop up all the little MAGAts and be on their way to their own horrific race.

Idiots. 

Fools and idiots. 

Everyone in his wake gets destroyed. His allies who he uses until they aren't useful. His opponents who he bullies into being supporters. Our entire democracy...

One, Two, Three Strikes...

Third Time's the Charm...

hopefully it's not Death Comes in Threes because I think it would be us and not him.