Aging ain't for sissies. Neither is chronic pain.

Posts tagged ‘blogging’


I haven’t blogged in what feels like ages.  I’ve had a case of the blues on top of life in general.  I deal with moderate to severe depression and once in a while I go MIA.  Not all is lost to depression though; life just gets in the way sometimes.

I want to send a big shout out to my husband Fred.  He’s such a doll.  He makes me feel like a million bucks even when I feel like twenty cents.  He makes me laugh and makes me feel special.  Love you hon.  Thank you for the sweet note you left me this morning.

We’ve had some lovely weather.  We’ve had some crappy weather.  Mother Nature seems to be in a fickle state of mind.  Last week we hit 90 degrees one day and 47 degrees the next.  This morning was nice though.  Our greyhound Perry and I greeted the day on the deck.  I had coffee.  He had gas.  Just another day in the life.

It’s also been very w-i-n-d-y.  My hair is not meant for wind.  I am not one of the fortunate few who can come in from the wind, shake my hair a bit and look good.  When I come in from w-i-n-d-y conditions I look like I’ve been riding around in the truck with my head out the window (minus the slobber.)  We planted flowers during a w-i-n-d-y day last week.  It was so ridiculously w-i-n-d-y that I felt myself copping an attitude; fists pumping and curse words flying at Mother Nature.  I make for good entertainment for my neighbors.

I hate it when people call other people fat.  Using words such as overweight or obese or something along those lines is a lot kinder than fat.  I am not skinny by any means.  I am lucky that I am tall as I can hold my weight a bit better but I could stand to lose extra poundage.  In two years I’ve lost 20 pounds…it’s nothing monumental but it’s something.  I went shopping with a friend the other day and although I don’t think she realized how it was going to sound, she said something that stopped me in my tracks.  “You should feel skinny now,” says she.  Me, not knowing what’s coming, says, “Why?”  She points to a rather large woman and says, “Well, compared to that fat lady.”  ::jaw drop::

What in the world has happened to our brain-to-mouth filters?  Do we really feel it absolutely necessary to the survival of the human race to verbalize every.single.thing we are thinking?  Words hurt.  Kindness counts.

It’s official, I’m getting clumsier as I get older.  Fred built a ramp coming off the deck for the dogs several years ago.  About a month ago I was going down the ramp and slipped and fell.  Right on my ass.  I was mortified.  The first thing I did was look up to make sure the neighbors didn’t see me.  I don’t know why I have this intense embarrassment descend upon me when I fall.  Once I saw that no one witnessed my spillage I let loose with a string of curse words that would make Sharon Osbourne proud. 

Fred got me a beautiful Tanzanite ring for Mother’s Day.  I am quite smitten with it.  I want to say a little something about Mother’s Day.  It is a special opportunity for people to tell their mothers how much they mean to them.  But not all Mother’s Days are created equal.  For many, Mother’s Day is bittersweet.  Some moms have lost children or have a less than stellar relationship with their kids.  Other women suffer infertility.  These are painful things and can make Mother’s Day a painful day.  I just want to send out good thoughts and prayers for these women.

I must go now.  There is a mad bumblebee outside my kitchen door.  Seriously, it is buzzing so loud I can hear it in the dining room.  I should go out and ask her what her problem is.  Maybe not.  I’m allergic to bees and my arms flail about and I scream like a girl whenever there’s one around.  Maybe I should send Perry to the deck and let him expel a plume of his patented gas her way.  I guarantee that will cure all that ails her.  Who says you need insect repellant?  This is the ultimate in going green.

Until next time……


To Hell in a Hand Basket

What is a blogger to do when they don’t have anything to say?  How does one make an interesting blog when nothing interesting is happening?  Perhaps a blogger could make an entire post of nothing but questions.  Here’s one…why do they call a place where you park a driveway but a place where you drive a parkway?  And who is they?  Where do they live?  Do they make a living coming up with totally lame questions?  I’d like to meet they someday and find out what all the fuss is about.

There are other things I wonder about.  For instance how is it that a husband can come home to a perfectly clean house only to have it go to hell in a hand basket in 60 seconds flat?  And that brings me to the whole hell-in-a-hand-basket thing.  Why a hand basket?  Why not a baking pan?  Going to hell in a hand basket makes about as much sense as schlepping around in a baking pan.

How come it is so freaking hard to find a bra that fits?  I’d rather have someone tap dance on my eyelashes in stilettos than shop for a bra.  Either they are so tight you can’t take a deep breath without fearing an internal explosion or you’re spilling out, leaving rolls of boobage to bounce around wild and free.  (Funny story – the other day I was in the store walking past the intimate apparel department when I noticed a woman with a 10 – 11 year old boy in the bra section.  He stared wide-eyed at the bras and rather loudly said, “I like theeeeeeeese!”  They start so young, those boys.)

Why does the postal carrier or UPS guy always come to the door when Mother Nature calls?  There is nothing quite as awkward as trying to run to the front door while pulling up one’s pants.  (You know, sometimes life is too funny.  Just now as I was sitting here typing, I noticed the mail carrier pulling out of our driveway and up to our mailbox.  I go out to retrieve the mail and I see that she left a package by my front door.  Seems to me that if she was going to go to the trouble of coming up the driveway, getting out of her vehicle and walking to my door to leave the package, she would have the inclination to ring the freaking doorbell to let me know she left something on my doorstep.  How does she know it’s not something extremely valuable like diamonds or chocolate?) 

I guess at the end of the day these things aren’t all that important.  What really matters is what we do with our day, what we accomplish, how we feel.  As for me I’m going to have a chocolate bar, weave a hand basket and begin my hunt for the ever elusive “perfect” bra.  I wonder what they would have to say about that.

I’ve Not Fallen Off the Face of the Earth

I haven’t blogged much lately but do have lots to share.  Like most of the mid-Atlantic region we are buried under foot after foot after foot of snow.  I am so not amused. 

Will write more soon!

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