Sunday, August 30, 2015

Erika has the last laugh

Tropical storm Erika dissipated, too.  Poof.  And yet, the low pressure system is still wreaking havoc on my head.  I've just taken my 3rd dose of meds and am on my 2nd ice pack.  Somehow in 3 years (looking at you, Isaac), I've forgotten how bad hurricane migraines can be. 

Kitten is also not herself.  She's extra chatty, whiny, and standoffish.  The alien life-form in her DNA doesn't like Terran storms either.  We're a sad pair today.  

Friday, August 28, 2015

mission creep

Do you ever start doing something simple and then see just one other thing you should take care of now?  And then it snowballs into 5,386 things, and you never even finish the first thing?  Yeah, me too.

I was doing some laundry, and somehow made the mistake of looking behind the dryer.  Sigh.  One hour later, everything is sparkling clean.  WHERE NO ONE EVER LOOKS.  And I still have clean clothes to put away.

I've been cleaning my house (in case Erika doesn't blow or wash it away) before I'm incapacitated with eye surgery recuperation.  My first ophthalmologist told me three weeks of recuperation with no exercise.  I'm guessing housecleaning falls in there somewhere.  The second doc was much more lax about my recovery, but I figured I should plan for the longer scenario.  No fkn idea how I'll clean my pool.  Maybe dear old dad will volunteer.

Plus, I have a friend coming over to help me through this, and I can't be seen as a slob.  :)   And there's only so much I can blame on the cat.  To be fair, she sheds about as much as I do.  Maybe more.  But the 20-inch hairs probably aren't credible as feline.  We're both hair manufactories.  :\

Also, apparently I'm not the only one losing my shit about these storms.  The grocery store shelves are picked clean.  No bottled water left, except the fancy sparkling kind.  I decided my need wasn't that urgent.  I'm not a fan of sparkling water, especially to brush my teeth with.  I think I'll just fill up some canteens and pitchers with my new shiny water filtered water if TS Erika swings back this way again.

Hurricane Fatigue Syndrome

I already have it, and we haven't been hit.  Yet.

I was reading back to my older posts from the 2004 Hurricane Season, which was brutal for Florida (4 direct hits), and stressful for me.  And then there was the 2005 Hurricane Season, which also was taxing.  Katrina hit us before wiping out New Orleans.  And Wilma knocked down my glorious mango tree, which was righted again with LOTS of help from friends.

This year, Hurricane Danny started getting me tense because it was aimed this way, until it just dissipated.  POOF!   Now, Tropical Storm Erika keeps changing forecasts drastically.  Supposed to be a hurricane, then a major one, then back to a tropical storm.  Direct hit, sideswipe, sideswipe from the other side (one side is worse than the other), back to direct hit again.  And it's still days away, so every 3 hours the forecast can and does change.  Why do I insist on monitoring it?  Because I'm a dumbass.  Duh.  :) 

Also, don't make the n00b mistake of thinking the storm is just a thin line.  It's a wide swath of hours long destruction.  Wilma took out well over half the state.

Hurricane Wilma 2005

And yet, today is a lovely day.  I got up early to clean the pool and enjoy some fresh air and morning sunshine.  Without modern technology, I'd never know what monsters are out there trying to kill me.  Until, of course, the migraines hit.  That's my evolutionary contribution to humankind.  You're welcome.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Come sit at my table

Actually, it's way too little to sit at, as it's an end table.  From the 60s, I think.  It's pretty neat looking.  You can put your drink on it.  With a coaster under it, obviously!   Don't ruin my new (old) table, mofo.

I met my dad for lunch earlier this week (we get along great now), and he gave me my mom's old table because his current wife didn't like it anymore.  Good for me!  I have no idea where to put it.  I don't really need any furniture.  But it was too beautiful, and I'm too sentimental to let him get rid of it.

My brother (Potato's owner) reminded me that we played under it, using it as a structure for our toy animals.  He and I used to build elaborate worlds, using whatever we had handy, including our multitudinous sets of Lego, empty cereal boxes, furniture, etc.  This table was out in the living room (between the two chairs with plastic on them, sigh), so we weren't able to use it as a permanent structure, or we faced the wrath of the parentals for making a mess.  That was something we avoided at ALL costs as both could be extremely volatile.  La la la la, not listening to those memories.  Only the happy ones of playing with my brother.  :)

I may put it in the library with my other triangular table.  But, they're not the same style, so that probably won't work.  I think I'll wait until a friend comes over this weekend and get a second opinion.

with Kitten, for scale

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Iguana 'splain something to you

Iguanas are an exotic invasive species to Florida.  Not only that, but they are a real menace as accurately depicted here, which thankfully isn't my story. 

I've had a few people on the Twitters tell me (and thereafter unfollow me) that my cat is cruel and shouldn't be allowed to hunt.  Is it more cruel to force a creature to be something they aren't or allow them to be what they are?  Don't be a hypocrite.  I'm looking at you, gay rights' activists.

Cats are amazing hunters.  And my Kitten (yes, that's her name) is one of the best because she grew up as a feral kitty.  Of course I feed her.  She probably eats better than most of you on her organic raw meats.  But, she still has her killer instinct prowling inside of her.  And it's fkn baby iguana season now.  They are literally (figuratively) everywhere.  Because she sensed my eye problem, she even left me a spare eyeball.  Thanks, Kitten.

I'm not a monster though, so she and I came to a compromise.  She's allowed outside only a few hours per day.  That way she still gets her wild out, and I worry less.  Live and Let Die.

Monday, August 24, 2015

Laughing while the world burns

Actually, it's more of a smolder and a smile.

I woke up at 4:30 this morning in a cold sweat.  No idea why.  And then I saw all kinds of breaking news alerts about China's stock market crashing, followed by London & Germany.  Twitter started trending #BlackMonday, and visions of 1987's crash came roaring back.

As many of you know, I grew up in Miami.  When the market crashed in 1987, a broker friend of the family got shot and paralyzed by a nutter who blamed him for losing all of his money.  People do some fucked up shit when they get desperate.  I'm glad the US markets have started to recover a bit today.

I texted a friend who happened to be awake fortunately.  [My text may or may not have done the waking. ;) ]  We talked about books, philosophy, and sushi until I calmed down a bit.

Now on to the smile part.  I went to the pharmacy to pick up some eye drops for my upcoming eye surgery.  I was updating my contact info with the cashier, and she of course asked me for my number.  I'm in the middle of a busy store and didn't want to yell my digits (with all kinds of freaks wandering about potentially eavesdropping), so I tried to be discreet about it.  Nope.  She couldn't hear me (or was just messing with me) and made me repeat it.  Several times.  Sigh.

In other news, there was an M-class 5.6 solar flare last night and solar storms making a direct hit to Europe and Asia.  Coincidence?  If anyone sees any pretty Aurora, send me pics please.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

I battled one of my demons all night and lived to tell the tale

To be honest, though, the tale isn't that interesting.  ;) 

I had my sword and my shield in hand, otherwise known as my willpower, giant ice-pack, and a double dose of triptans.  Fuck you, migraine.  Bring it, mofo! 

Actually, please don't.  That sucked a lot.  I put my phone on Do Not Disturb, wrapped my head in numbing goodness, and listened to podcasts and audio-books all night.  Kitten came up later on and wanted snuggles, which isn't typical for her.  Not sure if she knew I was barely hanging on or if she was battling her own demons.  In either case, she was a not unpleasant distraction.  Haha, don't you hate when writers use double negatives like that?  Me, too.  But it kind of works here. 

I didn't completely vanquish the migraine, just knocked it down from an 8 (out of 10, with 10 being please let me slide my head behind your car tire while you run over it) to a lovely, lovely 3. 

I'm watching qualifying of the Belgian Formula One Grand Prix now.  At very low volume naturally.  I can't help remembering when I was there four years ago.  I had a special garage tour of Mercedes, where they brought me up close to their cars, introduced me to the mechanics, let me eavesdrop on the engineers talking to the drivers on track, and fed me a fancy lunch (menu pictured below). 

Friday, August 21, 2015

Dear Religious Evangelists:

My mind is already made up.  Nothing you can say will persuade me about religious beliefs (or lack thereof).  I will keep deleting your religious comments that you post here.  I hit the delete key pretty much as soon as I see 800 uses of the word faith or any words followed by colons, as in Blahblah 7:11.  Save us both some time and stop posting.  Or not.  It takes me only a second to DELETE.

Besides the fact that your comments are ephemeral here and won't last, my whisperees (or super cool readers to those not in the know) are presumably not your target audience.  Most are fairly opinionated and will not be easily swayed by some lame-ass quote.  Just saying, Steve.

Thursday, August 20, 2015

Want a sammich?

It's delicious.  And nutritious.

Am I the only one who adds sliced almonds to everything?  Like my grilled cheese sammich?  Or a pizza?  Or my steel-cut oatmeal?  Because I like the extra crunch, and they are full of blah blah blah good for you.

In other news, I had a hilarious encounter at the pool store.  When I first walked in, the employee came up to earnestly greet me.  I thought maybe I was the one millionth customer and won a lifetime supply of pool-boys.  No such luck. 

He wanted to inform me that their credit card system was down, so he would have to manually process it with the old sliding machine.  Who knew stores still have those tucked away in the back?  I wonder how long it took them to find it.  He looked at me expectantly like I might decline and come back later.  Why would I care?  And how come cash was never mentioned?  My bill was $11.  Fkn kids today.

P.S.  He was very polite and carried my purchases out to my car for me. 

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

gone fishing

Just goofing.  I don't know anyone with a boat anymore.  Also, I'd rather just chill on the boat than fish.

But I did wake up looking like a deep sea anglerfish, with my hair sticking out in front of me.  What could I possibly lure in with that? 

Ah, the eternal quest of what hair products to use in my curly locks.  Last night I used Argan oil to condition it.  Now it's incredibly soft and touchable but looks like ass.  Fortunately, I don't plan to see anyone important today.  Typically, I use products that give definition, but they don't make my hair this soft.  First world problems.  Plus I exhausted myself with too much heavy thinking the last few days.  It's nice to concentrate on frivolous matters.

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

One life to live?

Or many?

Going through my old blog entries has made me even more introspective than usual, realizing (again) that I've been battling depression on and off throughout my whole existence.  During my happy times, I push down any hint of sadness and think I'm magically cured.  Until the next time it rears its ugly head and whispers lies in my ear.

I've had several lives, which feel like discrete entities as I look back.  In reality, I suppose they blended into one another.  Is there a multiverse containing parallel universes in which I die at the end of each of these lives?  My childhood was abysmal.  I barely feel any connection to it (besides all the traumas associated with it, which I try to ignore).  Does one alternate universe have me dying as a child or in my teenage years along with most of my peers?  Accident?  Suicide?  Homicide?  Miami in the 80s could have been any of the above.

But that didn't kill me in this universe.  It made me Stronger.

Then there was college and my true independence blossomed (although I've been fairly self-reliant since the first time I ran away from home at age 6).  I learned how to live on my own.  To have the freedom to make all of my own decisions, which was glorious.  To answer to no one.  And to take responsibility for my mistakes, which was sobering.  Does one universe have me dying in college for taking stupid risks because I felt immortal?  Because even if I wasn't suicidal, I didn't particularly care if I lived or died.

But that didn't kill me in this universe.  It made me Wiser.

After college, I tried the grad school thing, but the migraines combined with the ennui of the subject matter (bad choice, Wendy) drove me into another funk.  Which led me to partying every night.  Until I eventually fell in love with someone completely wrong for me.  Unsurprisingly, he broke my heart.  Which I guess was fine because he wasn't long-term partner material anyway, and I knew it even then.  Maybe even he knew that I wouldn't stick around with him.  But that heartbreak (worse than any physical pain I'd ever had) drove me into another downward spiral.  And again I did all kinds of risky activities, because why not?  Does one universe have me dying during this time?  I again didn't care if I lived or died.  Life never stayed happy for long.

But that didn't kill me in this universe.  It made me more Interesting.

And then I met Galahad, my former partner of 20 years.  He helped me to find my inner peace.  Even though I still battled demons from time to time, I finally experienced true happiness and contentment.  Until he decided he was done.  And his memory became another of my demons to battle.  Do I die battling one of these many demons in another universe?  The pain of my first heartbreak was laughably infinitesimal compared to this one.

But that didn't kill me in this universe.  It gave me Hope.

Now, I'm on to another phase of my life.  Making new friendships, deepening others, and learning how to be happy again.  Now that I know what it feels like and that it was possible once, I crave contentment and stability like an addiction.  I've also learned that my Inner Happy Wendy didn't come from another person.  He was just the rudder who steered me toward it.  I have to remind myself of this constantly, to look for my lodestar, which is a perpetual struggle.  But I can do it.  I will do it.  So that my demons don't kill me in this life, in this universe, either.

Because I am ...
More Interesting.

Monday, August 17, 2015

Can I get a show of hands?

Who else had iguana for breakfast?  Yes, that is an iguana hand.  Or technically a foot.  I like to anthropomorphize animals if you hadn't noticed.

Yesterday Kitten didn't want to eat her pork tenderloin.  So I did.  Yes, I cooked it first before I ate it.  No, I didn't get sick although apparently I worried a friend by mentioning it because it may have sat out for a bit before I cooked it.  To be fair, probably I shouldn't have started my text with, "Am I gonna die?" when I inquired about food safety.  It was delicious.  Don't get all squicked out because it was perfectly good pork tenderloin, even if my cat was too finicky to appreciate it at the time. 

She typically eats very well on her raw food diet, but I guess she likes grass-fed iguana when they're in season.  Today she decided to make her own meal, eschewing the organic chicken waiting for her. 

I hope everyone is starting the week off on the right foot.  :)

Saturday, August 15, 2015

Blast from the past

I happened upon my old blog posts, from 2000 through 2008, and have slowly been importing them into this site.  I find it both interesting and embarrassing what I used to post.  My naivete was disconcerting, but the web still felt so new back then.  I laughed reading about my two-way pager, my first cellphone (it was the Motorola flip with the antenna you had to pull out, if you're curious), and my dial-up Internet access.  Many of my entries were Twitter-esque in nature.  I guess I was ahead of my time.  ;)

Plus, I was a terrible writer back then.  I'm glad my writing style has (I hope) matured, along with the Interwebs.  Movie website links were pre-IMDB, so they were tricky to find at the time, and many didn't survive.  Quite a few broken links can be accessed via the Wayback Machine if any catch your eye.

I also had some bittersweet memories reading about my former partner.  We had amazing times, and I'm happy to have had 20+ years with him.  Now, it's on to my next big adventure and perhaps one day another 20+ fantastic years with a different wonderful man.  Could I be so fortunate again?  Especially considering my exceptionally high standards.  Factor in how high-maintenance I am, like a Formula 1 car (with great performance comes high maintenance or some such), and the probability starts rapidly decreasing.

Or maybe I recapture my fierce independent streak and go it alone.

Friday, August 14, 2015

Death doesn't erase being a scumbag

Even though I've explicitly told my family I am NOT interested in hearing about Cousin Lech, they insist on keeping me informed of his activities.  Why do I refer to him as Cousin Lech?  I'll let you smart people figure that one out on your own and spare you the gory, lecherous details.  Needless to say, it wasn't a one-time occurrence nor a one-person occurrence.

I have a few close family members who refused to believe me and were sure I overreacted and/or misinterpreted his actions.  First off, STFU and believe a young woman when she tries to embarrassedly tell you something like this.  Second, STFU about how peachy this shitheel is.  And third, just STFU.  And when a second family member comes forward and corroborates, definitely rethink your opinions.

Many years later, my family is *still* telling me about Cousin Lech, namely that he just died.  Yay?  Would it be rude of me to say 'good riddance' to those who are praising how magnanimous this chucklefuck was?  His obituary almost made me gag.  I'm being the bigger person and keeping my thoughts to myself.  And sharing them here naturally.  Don't read my blog if you don't want to know my honest thoughts.

Someday I hope someone has the courage to write a genuine obituary.  In fact, I implore anyone who knows me personally to write mine truthfully.  "She was cranky frequently, and very high-maintenance, but not bad overall."  Or whatever you really think of me, including my faults.

Death doesn't erase our flaws any more than it erases our merits.  In memory, of course, since we're no longer here to *do* anything.  Although I may come back to haunt some people.  To be determined.

Thursday, August 13, 2015

Another one bites the dust

Another one gone, and another one gone
Another one bites the dust
Hey, I'm gonna get you too
Another one bites the dust

Life is so harsh.  I had another strong, brilliant woman (let's call her M after M in the Bond movies because I could completely imagine her heading up MI6 and keeping those fkrs in line) phone me last night with a career crisis.  What the fucking fuck.  No one wants to pay what a lifetime of hard work and experience deserves.  Besides that, no one wants to even consider older women because they can hire someone half her age for half her salary.  You know what, asshole?  You also get no experience with that.  Penny wise and pound foolish, but most companies just look out for their bottom line this quarter.  What happened to having vision and developing toward that, while giving the best possible service to your customers?  Now it's all instant gratification, and we can't understand why loyalty is a dying concept.

P.S.  Thanks for the support for both me and my loved ones.  It definitely brightens my day, and I'm fairly certain Emma Peel was pleased to know random Internet people care about her, as well.

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

I don't love all of my fellow insomniacs

There I was at 4am, wide awake, with no one to talk to.  No problem, I told myself.  Go outside and see if you get lucky with some meteors.  I creep downstairs like a criminal, in almost full darkness so as not to ruin my night vision.  It had rained recently, so everything outside was damp.  And I was too lazy to go back inside and get a towel.  I plop my ass down on the wet deck and say fuck it.  I'm leaning back, enjoying stargazing, contemplating my infinitesimal part in the universe, AND A GIANT FKN POSSUM WALKS UP NEXT TO ME.


I gave a muffled shriek and ran back inside.

I guess I can contemplate from the relative safety of my bed, sans meteors.

I caught up with one of my best friends yesterday, let's call her Emma Peel, because she's awesome in so many ways -- beautiful, smart, independent, athletic, kind, and she could totally be a spy.   I could go on, but y'all get the idea.  She is also less than content with her life right now, questioning her whole career (as a healer, I might add) because of a lack of viable job options.  Why does it seem that the best people get the shittiest deals in life?  Is it because she's too independent and won't rely on her stunning good looks to snare some rich man to take care of her?  Is it because smart women are feared and shunned?  Once they hit some arbitrary limit, anything above that terrifies those around them.  There's a whole dance involved, flirting with that level, pushing past a tiny bit, retreating to push past again, making small nonthreatening progress.  If you trip just once in that dance, you're condemned to start anew, because bridges have been burned, towns pillaged, all because of one fkn misstep.

There are those who can't understand why anyone would hide their intelligence.  But the smartest women know all about assuaging male egos and palliating female insecurities.  And then there are women (not always mutually exclusive) who tear down our sisters-in-arms out of our own jealousies and vulnerabilities.  Been there, and I sincerely apologize for every catty remark I've ever made or will make, because let's face it, I have plenty of insecurities still running wild and loose inside of me, the antithesis of glitter in my veins.

Emma, you need to know that you can have the world by the balls.  Just reach out and take them.  And once you do, remember to be gentle because the world is more fragile than it appears.  It's full of billions of broken people, many of whom don't even realize how broken we are.

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

The Perseids are coming, the Perseids are coming!!

The Perseid Meteor shower is supposed to be exceptionally good this year, with the best visibility tomorrow night.  Here you can find out good times for your area.  Maybe my insomnia will finally work for me.

I haven't slept much the past few days and had a perfectly miserable, pharmaceutically-aided weekend, with anxiety attacks galore.  The universe conspired against me and threw all kinds of bullshit and hormones my way.  Maybe it was the meteors sending out secret alien anxieties, because more than a few of my friends also had bad panic attacks lately.  Or maybe I just have an intrepid yet calming nature, where people admit their anxieties to me because they know I can relate and definitely won't judge.  Could go either way.  We'd better get our tinfoil hats ready just in case.

Anyway, viewing the majesty of the Cosmos usually helps to put into perspective how irrelevant my entire life is, most especially one bad week of (t)issues and crying.

Thursday, August 6, 2015

They're calling from inside the house

My sweet little psychotic cat decided to make an end-run around me while I was taking out the trash this morning.  And she brought in a live baby iguana.  After playing with it for 15 minutes (I'll spare you the videos of her playing air hockey under the dining table, although they can be found on my Vine and Twitter), she was nice enough (to me) to eat it on the tiles and not the carpeting.  Apparently it didn't taste as good as the pork I was cutting for her, because she ate only the front end as an appetizer and left the rest for me to dispose of.  And happily chomped away at her pork tenderloin.

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Don't skip leg day, bro

Why would anyone ever skip leg day?  I love leg day.  But I suppose not everyone has such an awesome workout partner as I.  We laugh and have fun, even while crying because our muscles are on fire (okay maybe that's just me crying and cussing him out).  Today's torture was accompanied by fun 80s music, which just made it even better.  Plus he told me that my legs are perfect.  It's not like thaaat, we're platonic friends (for many years), but I still enjoy hearing it, even if I know it's not true.  That's pretty fucked up if you think about it, so I try not to delve too deeply.

We even did some bizarro chest fly thing on top of an exercise ball.  He had to hold it for me while I learned my balance point.  Good thing his legs are like oak.  After I couldn't lift my arms anymore (or walk), we called it a day.  As he walked me to my car, I was in such high spirits that I even gave one of the creepy guys there a great big smiling hello.  In hindsight, I should have kept the giant smile to myself, but maybe he won't read anything into it.  And maybe the Pope is Jewish.  It's been rumored that he finds my hair to be too wild for his tastes.  'Sif anyone was asking him.  Maybe the smile will scare him away.

I gave my workout partner a great big bear hug and wished happy times for both of us.  Why does life have to be so hard for people all the damn time?

Afterwards, I met one of my good girlfriends for lunch.  Mmm, bacon burger.  We chatted about light stuff and finally drifted into heavy stuff.  I got a little teary-eyed about my forthcoming eye surgery.

[Sidenote: It seems to be a foregone conclusion after getting a second opinion from another respected ophthalmologist.   I'm very grateful that a spouse of a friend ventured forth with her opinion.  Obviously she has nothing to gain, so it was nice not to look for ulterior motives and just trust a professional's judgment.  Thanks again!!]

And apparently those wet sparkles in my eyes weren't enough to persuade my friend to change the subject to something lighter.  Next thing I know, we're into even heavier stuff, and my eyes are leaking like sieves.  In the fucking diner.   Always prepared, she pulls a tissue from her purse and hands it to me.  Turns out I guess I needed to get that off my chest and cry a little.  I felt better later.  Especially after listening to my special Dance Mix Tape.  That's right, I have a Dance Mix Tape, made just for me for those moments when I need a little pick-me-up.  Don't be jealous!