Sunday, January 31, 2016

do you ever daydream?

And let your mind wander and think about silly stuff?  Or do you constantly fill every free minute with activities and distractions?  I've been guilty lately of keeping my phone next to me almost all the time, like a security blanket.  Or a best friend.  :(  Talking to me, and whispering in my head that I'll be interesting and fun if I listen to more podcasts or read the next cool thing on Twitter.

I have been making a conscious effort to leave my phone on the charger, or at least not glued to my hand constantly.  That backfired a week ago when I felt like I was dying and couldn't crawl to my phone to call someone.  My pride or stubbornness wouldn't have let me call anyway.  But maybe I could have left a voice memo with my last thoughts.  That would have been boring though, mostly "FUUUUCK, this hurts" and "someone please feed and love Kitten."  Okay, that's out of the way.  Just assume those are my last thoughts, whenever I die.

At some point, my phone went from being a useful tool to being vital.  Is the world going to end if I can't look up a song lyric immediately?  Or if I get stuck in traffic because I didn't look at GPS navigation before driving?  Obviously not.  So why is my phone tethered to me? 

It's sitting seven inches from me now, mocking me with it's blinking light that I have a new something on it.  Ugh, do I check it now and interrupt my creative flow or let it fester in the back of my mind and wonder what it is?  Is it a text from a friend?  Family?  New email?  Instant message?  Voicemail?  Weather alert?  Not a tornado warning, because I've learned that makes noises and scares me.  Years ago, when I got my first BlackBerry, I learned how to set time limits for my work emails, so I don't have that stress scraping at me on weekends or late at night.

You're wondering if I checked it or not.  Sigh, I wish I could be all noble and say hell no, it can wait.  I caved and checked it.  Sensei was asking how I feel because he's been down all weekend with a migraine.  Don't I feel all healthy and cured now?  Three days migraine-free makes me cocky.  ;)  Maybe it was all the liver

Saturday, January 30, 2016

almost back to normal

(Not really, but I can dream.)  I've been stuffing myself with red meats and liver again to give me energy.  I decided to get creative and boost the deliciousness of liver.  Yesterday, I had fried liver, with kale, topped with pumpkin seeds and shredded coconut for lunch.  And for dinner, it was fried liver, with pumpkin seeds and crumbled pecans, with a side of sauteed baby spring mix.  I gave myself the idea of pecans from my jocular crested pecan post.  Probably no one else would eat it, but I liked it.

My dad had been after me to fix his laptop all week.  I tried explaining that I wasn't in a mood to fix it when I couldn't even get out of bed.  That stalled him for a few days, until he traded me some liver for my time.  I asked for chopped liver, but somehow that's harder to find than it should be.  I took pity on him because I know how frustrated I get when I have no ready access to all the world's data at my fickle fingertips.  Plus it was my dad, so I didn't need to get prettied up or worry about my house being dirty or any of the myriad of things one worries about when having someone over.

I even threw in some exercise this week.  I texted my Sensei to warn him prior to our class that I was, to put it bluntly, a fkn mess.  He's known me for years, so he said come anyway, and he would fix me or at least catch me when I passed out.  He massaged and manipulated my neck for a few minutes, which seemed to have helped.  And then we did a bunch of shoulder and arm exercises to work on that area.  Plus abs, because abs.  I had to modify some of the exercises, and I used lighter weights than normal, but I'm glad I went.

Today I have big, big plans.  Steak and more sauteed greens.  And perhaps a book if I can focus.  Or maybe catch up on more TV shows if I can't.  I've watched way too much TV this week, but my mind has been mush.  I was making stupid mistakes and feeling dumber by the day.  I know you're curious what kind of silly shows I watch when I need to relax and tranquilize myself.  Here in no special order are some of the shows I watched: Downton Abbey, The Magicians, X-Files, Younger, Supergirl, Agent Carter, and Bob's Burgers

Mmm, burgers.  More later, steak now!

Thursday, January 28, 2016

wanted: tough guy movie quotes

Using a fresh toothbrush is like wearing new socks for the first time, or getting into a crisply made bed with clean sheets.  I've tried both a new toothbrush and clean sheets to cheer me up lately, which helped a smidge.

I have been migraine-free for almost a full day now, 19 hours to be exact.  My week went to shit Saturday afternoon, and kept getting worse somehow.  I suppose I should be grateful that days of storms (including excessive rain, sustained powerful winds, hail, and tornadoes) hasn't resulted in any property damage.  So far.  I am thankful that I can be miserably writhing in pain on the floor inside my dry house.  That's a fucked up sentence to write.

My body is betraying me.  I take such good care of it, but it's so fkn sensitive that, like a seahorse, one little aberrant twitch, and I'm down for the count.  I'm slowly making a comeback, though.  Why does it seem that it takes weeks to get healthier and one day to fuck up all that progress?  At least I'm past the Fight Club quote feeling of "put a gun to my head and paint the walls with my brains."

My body seems to be trying to help.  I've been sleeping fucktons, and (I'm hopeful) repairing myself during that sleep.  It's weird that when I finally started feeling better last night, I had a rough time sleeping again.  It's like my body doesn't want to make the effort past a certain point.  Listen, mofo', do what needs to be done to feel great!  Why stop at partial progress?  "Rest is a weapon," so says Jason Bourne.

How many other tough guy movie quotes can I throw in to persuade my body?  :)   I think I'm at my limit, so if you know of any more, send them my way please.

Monday, January 25, 2016

Have modem, will surf

I have a new modem from my ISP, and I'm all set.  Apparently the one they gave to me in June was outdated and died.  Wtf.  Either they gave an old one to a new customer or they don't last very long.  I am impressed that their technician was prompt and competent, though.  He said he'd stick around in my driveway for a few minutes to make sure the new modem didn't update its firmware and break.  I admired the forethought.  He ended up staying about 90 minutes.  I felt like I should've brought him refreshments, except then I remembered that I don't cook and have nothing to drink besides water.  (Ixnay on the umray).  He probably wouldn't appreciate aged canned goods the way I do.  ;)

The migraine finally lifted last night after I don't know how many pills and one shot.  Those are easier to track.  I count the bruises on my leg.  Today, I'm dealing with the joy of migraine hangover.  I got winded going up and down my stairs this morning and had to rest halfway. 

Is it too early to go back to bed and surf on my laptop?

Sunday, January 24, 2016

some migraines don't like being ignored

Yesterday's migraine grabbed me hard by the neck, shook me until I was slightly nauseated, hollered in my ear, and shined bright lights in my eyes until I paid attention.  Once it had my attention, the ice-picks and sledgehammers followed.  I took Excedrin, Imitrex tablets, and an Imitrex injection.  Fuck.

But enough of that.  Blah blah blah, hurts me.  Blah blah blah, fuck my life. Et cetera, ad nauseum.

I drifted in and out of medicated delirium all day, slept most of the night, and woke up to no Internets.  FUCK!

Which raises the question: what's worse an 8 (out of 10) migraine or no Internets?  Duh, the fkn migraine.  Although no Internets is no picnic.  I was complaining to a friend who brilliantly reminded me that I could tether to my phone.  Oh yeah.  I wish I could blame that ignorance on my migraine brain, but it probably wouldn't have occurred to me at all.

I called my ISP, who kept asking for my phone number.  I gave them my VOIP number (which isn't working obviously) and said as soon as they fixed it, they could call me.  Dominic didn't like that answer.  He asked me again for my cell (which probably shows up on their caller ID, but I'm guessing they have to get my permission to add it to my account).  I told him I get enough spam from them in my email and physical mail.  I didn't want any marketing calls or texts from them.  He did a couple of resets on his side, to no avail.  He scheduled an appointment for them to come out TOMORROW.  Fuck.  And asked again for my number.  Unfortunately for him, I've had some experience in refusing to give out my number in a non-confrontational manner.  He was very persistent about it.  And, I politely declined for the fourth time.

I can feel the migraine sliding back into my consciousness as the meds wear off.  Maybe I won't miss being offline much today if I have to do another shot, which knocks me out for a few hours.  And what's one more bruise on my thigh when it means my head isn't thumping at me.  Lucky me, it's the weekend, and I have no obligations and nobody to disappoint.

Saturday, January 23, 2016

crested chicken hair

That almost sounded delicious, didn't it?  Did you think I suddenly became a five star chef and was posting recipes?  Chicken with angel hair pasta, crusted with pecans or some such?

Nope, that's merely what my hair looked like after washing it and gelling it, in 100% humidity.  I didn't get hit by snow from this winter storm, but I did get LOTS of rain.  And wind.  And humidity.  And hair.

I final-fkn-ly made it to workout.  It's been weeks since I've had a good workout.  Since before I didn't become a billionaire.  This session was a bit short because I ran late, but it was still awesome.  It was pouring when I got there.  Of course, I forgot an umbrella because why would I think of one when it's been raining for days?  I debated running through the rain or being dignified and walking.  My hair could only improve at that point, so I walked.  Also, I was wearing flip-flops (we always leave our shoes outside of the dojo) and those suck to run in. 

Sensei liked my crested chicken hair.  Go figure.

Five minutes later, one of my classmates came in dripping water and bleeding after having slipped when he ran in.  I was very glad that wasn't me.  We aren't supposed to acknowledge pain.  I'm still working on that aspect of my training.  He was very stoic.  And very wet.

A woman who hadn't been there in a few years came back and seemed in much better spirits than the last time I had seen her.  After class, she asked me if previous macho dude was single.  I think he is, but I'm pretty sure she isn't his type, although they did geek out together about old Twilight Zone episodes.  What to do?  Text him and let him know her interest?  Stay out of it and let adults be adults?  She also asked about another student, if he was gay or not.  He's not.  (I found out when another woman asked him and he got super offended.  Whoops.)  She's apparently on the prowl.  And not shy about it.

I think I'm about to break my 7 day migraine-free streak.  I could feel the edges of it sneaking insidiously into my brain at about 4 or 5 am.  I  ignored it, of course, because I'm at Expert Level for ignoring migraine pain.  It's been a few hours and not abating, even after Wendycoffee.  I may have to acknowledge it soon.  Maybe later.

Friday, January 22, 2016

Mailman: 2, Wendy: 0

Mofo' did it again.  I had freshly washed hair this time and was mostly presentable, so I went out to confront the mailman after he plowed into my trash can.  However, because I had left PLENTY of room between the mailbox and the trash can, he was able to give it a glancing blow and speed off before I could get outside.  Next time, maybe I'll preemptively go out before he gets to my house.  I wonder if he'll have the audacity to hit it while I'm standing there. And now I want to stand there and place the can closer each time.

Except, mailmen are scary to me.  Think about how much power they have over you.  They know where you live and handle many of your personal details.  Less now that we are more digital, but still enough to be threatening.

Without going into too much detail, I had a stalker mailman in college.  In hindsight, I guess I could see where he thought I lead him on.  I was anxiously awaiting my GRE results in the mail, you know, because I thought my whole future hung in the balance.  Plus I also assumed I had done poorly because surprise, surprise, I had a migraine when I took it.  Guess which idiot stood out by the mailbox every day waiting for the mailman?  Even after I told him I was waiting for a specific piece of mail, he assumed I was there for him.  Apparently it takes two idiots to create a clusterfuck big enough to involve law enforcement.

I performed an informal survey of my neighbors' trashcans and mailbox distances.  I noticed many that were closer in proximity to each other and yet still upright.  Sigh, I'm beginning to think this is personal.  If I go missing soon, tell the police to look at the mailman.

Thursday, January 21, 2016

being social

I haven't written much lately because I feel like all I'm writing is negativity.  I don't want to be known as that depressing Wendy woman.  What I'm writing does seem to be resonating with a few of you going through similar situations, though, which makes me sad and happy all at once.  Sad, that other people are as fucked up as I am.  And happy that I can make someone else feel a teensy bit better just by identifying with their pain.

That was a long way to say that I made an effort to be social today, so I could write about happier times.  I met my dad for lunch and heard all about his trip to see my brother.  He talked the entire hour, regaling me with so many details that I wished I'd recorded him.  He painted a colorful landscape of my brother's whole menagerie.  Apparently my brother is running a Home for Pregnant Mares in addition to everything else.  I heard all about the Canine Strategy to deal with the Coyote Problem.  And how the roosters are the early warning system for the hens against the hawks and owls.  And how the cows eat the dead cane leaves (stalks?), but the horses don't, perhaps due to the stomach disparities.  And the chickens eat all kinds of little crawly things for extra protein.  And that my brother has turned into quite a good cook, especially when he uses magical American Indian flour.

Lunch was pretty fkn entertaining.  I decided to pay the love forward and visit Totoro at her rehab place.  She had changed rooms, and I got completely lost trying to find her.  No one bothered me while I wandered the halls of old people looking for her.  I met a resident feline, asleep on a chair.  And quite a few lonely, old people, sitting four feet away from other lonely, old people.  It was pretty depressing.  I can see why she wants to escape.  I finally found her new room, but no Totoro in it.  I wandered a bit more and finally decided to ask.  I should have known.  She was getting her hair done at the Beauty Salon.

When she was finished, I wheeled her back to her room, although we stopped to visit the cat on the way.  [He deigned to talk to me, lick my hand, and then rub his face on me.]  They aren't letting Totoro walk at all, which saddens me.  She gets physical therapy twice a day, but no walking (because they're scared of lawsuits).  Meanwhile, her muscles are atrophying.  Of course I immediately texted her grandkids asking for more pics, which they sent.  Because she had just gotten her hair done, she agreed to us doing a selfie.  We took about nine before finding an acceptable one.  I sent it to her son and grandkids.  And then we settled in for some girl-talk.  No, I won't tell you what we said, Mr. Nosypants.  :P

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

porcupine eats pumpkins

Because I wanted to start my day smiling.

Make sure the sound is on.  He sounds like an Ewok.  I hope you're smiling now, too.

Tuesday, January 19, 2016

falling into grey

I haven't felt much like writing lately.  Mostly, I'm feeling numb, which makes me think I'm regressing emotionally.  I know exercise will help me, but my energy levels are low.  And I'm a firm believer in listening to one's body.  So, I've been resting and quiescing. 

I also know being outside will help, a.k.a. Shinrin-yoku.  It seems so hard to take that first step outside though.  That's when I know I really need it.  Open the door, Wendy.  Step outside.  Breathe in nature.  Why is that so difficult? 

I've slowly fallen into grey.  And it's not easy or doesn't seem necessary to escape.  It's a thick, viscous apathy.  I don't have an angel and a devil standing on opposite shoulders telling me what to do.  I have Logic and Emotion standing on opposite shoulders whispering in my ears.  Logic is being too fkn quiet though.  Mofo' needs to shout at me to pierce the quicksands of lethargy.  Or maybe she's strangulating in my hair.  In either case, step up your game, bitch!  I need you.

I think I may schedule a DINING ROOM DANCE PARTY tomorrow.  :)  That might be the thread I need to begin my journey out of the labyrinth.

[Thanks, everyone, for checking on me.  I sincerely appreciate your emails, texts, and calls.   Even if I don't respond.]

Sunday, January 17, 2016

soft kitty

My local BFF (bestie?  what are kids today calling it?) gave me this mug as a gift.  She wanted to cheer me up when she couldn't personally do it.  She's going through a really rough time herself, so we mutually try to prop the other up when we're able.  Sometimes, we both just cry together.  And then laugh at how pathetic we are.  If you aren't familiar with the song, it's sung when someone is sick.

I'm feeling better today (probably because of the mug), but I'm not surprised I was laid low with migraine the past few days.  All of my weather apps are going crazy with wind advisories and tornado warnings.  Even Kitten has been unsettled, yowling at me to fix the fkn broken outside FFS.

"Fuck.  Both the frontyard AND the backyard are fucked up, Mom.  Do something."

I did the best I could.  I stuffed her with chicken, snuggled her until she crawled out of my grasp, and gave her a catnip mousie to play with.  She's napping nicely now.  I think I'll follow her lead and rest until my migraine hangover wears off.

Saturday, January 16, 2016

clinical trials are scary

I've been a willing participant in at least ten clinical trials over the years, although it feels like more, because they can last for months or years.  I tested all of the triptans when they were first developed in the early to mid-90s.  It was the only way I could get my hands on some type of migraine relief.  Plus, I almost felt an obligation to future sufferers to help get these approved (even after Imitrex was released and marketed).  Each time a foreign substance was injected into me or swallowed, I got a little nervous, although mostly by that point, I was crippled with pain and didn't care.  The nerve-racking part was when I was required to sign the Informed Consent forms.

Why am I bringing this up now?  Besides the fact that I'm currently in another migraine clinical trial?

Because one in France went horribly wrong, leaving one man brain-dead and at least three others brain-damaged.  That's probably not what they signed up for, although maybe it was buried in their 50-page Informed Consent form.  Not many people read them closely.

I still have no idea of any long-term effects of the experimental drug I'm on.  Because I'm one of the ones who will provide them with that data.  So far so good.

Thursday, January 14, 2016

expired, schmexpired

Why do they put expiration dates on canned food?  I ignore them, the same way I ignore the expiration dates on my migraine meds (which are just as efficacious as before, meaning most but not all of the time).  That shit is hermetically sealed with alchemy and could probably survive a nuclear winter.

This past weekend, I got brave and went treasure hunting in my pantry.  All the way in the back, where I keep the hurricane supplies, I found a can of beans in there that said 'Best by July 2007'.  Those were probably purchased due to the brutal hurricane season of 2005.  Einstein wasn't around to consult, so I opened them, tentatively sniffed them, and then ate them.  I'm gonna guess he would have told me to toss them.  Because eight years sounds like a long time.  But I felt fine.  Except for the soul-crushing depression.  Do you think they caused that?  I almost wish I had a second can to experiment with.  Such a fkn nerd.

I also opened a can of coconut cream dated July 2015, which seemed fresh by comparison.  No, I didn't mix the two.  Even I'm not that daring.

I'm gonna go out on a limb and say the crushing depression resulted from four (or five?  who can keep track) days of migraines fucking up my brain chemistry and overall trying to ruin my life.

Whilst I was in the throes of this depression, I tried reaching out to various people, without any success.  My sister tried to logic me out of it.  Really?  I know she meant well, and a tiny part of me felt bad for worrying her, but logic and depression go together like 9 year old beans and 6 month old coconut cream.  [That might be my new favorite analogy.]  Another friend started talking about I don't even know what, and I had to rapidly hang up because the sobbing started.  Mute just isn't enough in that situation.  Sorry.  It wasn't you, it was me.  My other friends were supportive via texts.  Text messages are one of the greatest inventions for depression.

You'll be relieved to know that I'm better this morning.  Even if I didn't win Powerball.  Or maybe exactly because I didn't win.  Wouldn't I feel even more like shit if I had millions in the bank and still randomly sobbed loudly enough to scare the cat?

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

i'm not a multimillionaire


But my friends and I did get $12 back on a low initial investment of $45.  I'm no financial whiz, but I'm pretty sure that makes us rich.  RICH, I TELL YOU!!!

Maybe not rich in the conventional sense, but we're having fun sending texts and dreaming dreams.  We've had many imaginary meals and fun experiences in exotic locales.  And we've rolled over the $12 to invest in tonight's Powerball drawing.  Plus maybe a little more.  Sigh. 

My smart friends are all having a pretty good laugh at the horrible odds.  My even smarter friends are laughing AND maybe buying a ticket, just in case, and then chalking it up to an entertainment expense.  I've already told my manager I may not show up to work tomorrow.  And now, I want to call in sick just to fuck with him.  :)   Except people are depending on me, so even if I won, I'd still show up. 

In other news, I saw Totoro last night.  Her son came to town, took me to dinner, and then we visited her in the rehab facility.  I offered my advice on what I'd do if she were my mom.  He seemed amenable to accepting it, so I'm hopeful he'll have a hard conversation with her doctors.  And perhaps fire a few.  She seemed perfectly fine.  And of course, I texted her grand-kids again from her phone and asked for more pics.  They sent them right away.  She watched the videos several times, exclaiming over how great they were.  I even persuaded her to take a photo to send back.  That took some convincing because her hair was a mess from an EEG (which, of course, found nothing but someone to pay some hefty medical bills).

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

really Mr. Mailman?

Was it so important to deliver that single piece of junk mail addressed to my ex that you needed to knock my garbage can over to do it?  I understand that accidents happen, but couldn't you step two feet out of your doorless truck to set it upright again on such a sunny day?  You do know that sitting is the new smoking, right?  Not only would it have been the right thing to do, but it would have been the healthy one.  I will take some personal responsibility and admit I placed the offending item only 3.5 feet away from my mailbox instead of 4, which might have required you to lean farther than you had planned.   I'm deeply sorry.

If I didn't have a smidge of social anxiety and had been better coiffed to appear in public, I might have talked to you about this.  Although, knowing me, I probably would have apologized for distressing you.  It was most likely better for all involved (including the trash can) that I stayed inside and held my tongue.

Look, I get it.  I've been having a shitty time lately, too.  Maybe I'd feel better if I bashed down a few garbage cans with my car.  But, if we all did that, anarchy might erupt.  And precipitate the imminent (so I hear) zombie apocalypse.  And then I'd be faced with a harsh choice because who the fuck wants to survive an apocalypse?  I can barely survive with so many modern day conveniences. 

I guess that's a perk (perq, if we're being proper) of being a mailman.  You get to mow down stationary objects with zero liability.  I wonder if they list that on their job postings under benefits.
  • salary
  • healthcare
  • dental
  • 401k
  • running over trashcans with impunity
Anyway, thanks for being so diligent with your responsibilities.  I'll make sure he receives that solitary piece of advertisement.  And I may even let him know the horrors you had to endure to get it to me. 
“Neither rain, sleet, snow, hail, nor gloom of night stay these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”

Sunday, January 10, 2016


I've been asked several times which vitamin and mineral supplements I take.  My answer varies.  Every morning, I wake up and take a quick inventory of how I'm feeling and which ones I want.  I place these in my handy dandy dish and usually split them up over the course of the day, but that isn't always necessary.  Here, in order of what I remember, is what I generally take:

  • CoQ10 because it helps decrease the severity and frequency of my migraines.  Also, I've noticed over the past several years that when my Imitrex isn't as effective anymore, I need to increase my daily dose.  These are not a take as needed, but rather a take every day until my body is saturated.  Under penalty of great pain.  I used to think this was all bullshit, but it worked for me, despite my skepticism.  And Kitten occasionally helps me double-blind test this when she plays with them and inadvertently knocks one under my keyboard to be found at a later date.
  • Magnesium because it's the best fkn supplement ever.  It's like the duct tape of minerals -- works to fix almost everything that ails me.  I increase or decrease as needed when I notice subtle changes in my body.
  • Krill oil because my omega 3 and omega 6 oils are out of balance due to not eating the most perfect diet ever.  It helps me with inflammation and supposedly with mood.
  • Iodine to help my thyroid and many other organs (including the sex organs) stay healthy.  It also can trigger apoptosis of cancer cells.
  • Selenium so my body can process the iodine.  It's a pretty powerful mineral in its own right though.  In tiny doses.
  • Vitamin B complex also to process the iodine.
  • Vitamin C for a healthy immune system.  This one is necessary to split the doses during the day because the body will most likely discard the excess if taken all at once.
  • Probiotics for a healthy microbiome.
  • Oral probiotics for healthy mouth bacteria.
  • Fermented cod liver oil for the synergistic effects of vitamins D, K, and A.
  • Vitamin K to keep my blood clotting and my bones healthy.  (The Excedrin I take can thin my blood too much.)
  • Lutein for my fkn eyes.  Is it helping?  Probably not.  Am I desperate?  Yes.
  • Astaxanthin because maybe it helps to fight cancer cells. And maybe something blah blah something for my eyes.  See desperation above.
  • L-glutamine for my immune system and gut health.
  • B12 sub-lingual for brain health.
I randomly add and subtract some if I read something new or my bottle runs out and I didn't notice any effects.   Yes, I realize this seems excessive.  However with as many problems as I have, I can't afford to get sick or acquire new problems.  You haven't experienced misery until you've lived through a 5 day flugraine.  Fortunately, I rarely get sick anymore, and that's all I'll say so the Flu Fairy doesn't get offended and wave his wand to infect me.

Saturday, January 9, 2016

selling dreams: $6

a.k.a. the poor people tax
a.k.a. Powerball lottery

I got suckered into buying group lottery tickets yesterday.  Normally, I don't succumb that easily to peer pressure.  However, there were several contributing factors.  First and foremost, I had a migraine.  Meaning, it was easier (and therefore quicker to get to my meds and bed) to go along with buying into the Powerball pool than to abstain and say why.  Second, I felt like a pretentious douchebag talking about odds, probabilities, shark attacks, and lightning strikes.  (Why do people always use shark attacks and lightning strikes when explaining long odds?)  Third, I hate crushing other people's dreams.  And finally, it was admittedly a little fun to join in the hype and dream for a mere $6 admission price.  Plus, wouldn't I feel like even more of a jackass if they all won without me? 

Everyone was very excited, and the group texts were flying back and forth about what numbers we got and which locations had the best chance.  The part I loved was the generosity it called forth.  People offering help to others and charity groups -- mostly animal welfare because people suck.  And that's why they're my friends.

So come with me today and dream a little dream of millions of dollars.  Let's not think of the financial snafus and intricacies that come with vast amounts of money pouring too quickly into a group of casual friends.  Instead, think of financial independence and all the stone-crab claws I can eat.  Everyone's first reaction is to picture their boss' face when they say "fuck you, I quit."  However, I like my manager.  A lot.  I'd still quit, don't get me wrong.  :P  But I wouldn't preface it with "fuck you."

What's the first thing I'd do?  Hire a chauffeur?  A chef?  A massage therapist?  Buy my own island?  Timeshare in a jet?  I don't think I'd have enough money to buy and maintain my own jet.  Damn it, Wendy, stop being so practical.  It's dream time!

I think after personal chef and massage therapist, I'd like a tailor.  And cobbler (not the dessert).  I'm tired of the challenges of finding clothes to fit my skinny/fat body.  And skinny feet.  And maybe a personal hair stylist.  And personal trainer.  And now I'm having anxiety over having to deal with so many people.  Which is maybe why I'm not rich or why I suck at dreaming of riches.

Hmm, maybe my ultimate dream would be to have one trustworthy (there's the catch) person to handle EVERYONE for me.  Which is starting to sound an awful lot like my ultimate partner.  But money can't buy me love or some such.  And this is why I rarely play lottery.  Well that, and the abysmal odds.

Friday, January 8, 2016

why is the floor tilted?

Yesterday morning, I wished I had a chauffeur.  I immediately thought of whom I could call and rejected all of them for various reasons.  I had my monthly trek to get my migraine shot.  Except not only did I have a migraine hangover, I had vertigo, too.  I'm no stranger to vertigo, and this latest bout saw me still functional.  Yippee?  Plus, I had the benefit of knowing how to fix it.  No, none of those silly exercises (flopping backwards on my bed) ever did anything for me except make me dizzier.  I researched the fuck out of it once upon a time (because doctors were useless and told me to deal with it, these things happen sometimes) and learned that magnesium helped.  But not quickly.  I popped two capsules and mixed some powder in water before I had to drive.  One of the advantages of waking up too early is that I had lots of time. Thanks, Kitten.

When I finally had to leave, I was able to walk straight without having to hold the walls.  I still held the rail for the stairs though.  Because I'm not an idiot.  Plus my legs were shaking from muscle fatigue from my workout. 

I got there just fine and was quizzed about my holidays.  Of course I said how great they were.  No one (except you freaks) wants to hear how dysfunctional my family is about measuring our body fat after Xmas dinner, especially since the nurse (okay, the whole office) was heavier than me.  

I had a moment of unease when she took my blood pressure, and it was so low from all the magnesium.  [Pro-tip: take magnesium if you ever need to lower yours.]  But she was just happy it wasn't high and didn't comment further. 

I beat the previous night's time of being in bed by almost an hour.  Holy fuck, I love my bed.  And hate my pain.  And love my soft sheets.  And hate my pain.  And love my fluffy pillows.  And hate my pain. 

I guess the upside is the vertigo is gone, even though the migraine is back.  And I'm home.  In my lovely bed.  With Kitten.  And I didn't even need to silence my phone because no one is texting, calling, emailing, or messaging me. 

Just kidding.  Totoro called me from the hospital; the short story is that she has excellent insurance and shitty doctors.  And my sister emailed me.  And my friends texted and emailed me.  And I felt loved. :)

Don't focus on the pain.  Focus on your strength, Wendy.  

Thursday, January 7, 2016

is she hot? no, she looks like you

I haven't laughed so hard in a couple of weeks.  I almost fell off my bench.  I was working out with my partner, and he was gossiping about some gold-digger at the gym.  So I asked the logical question if she was hot.  His response was fkn classic.

Me: Is she hot?
Him: No, she looks like you.
Him (finally realizing what he just said): Uh, I mean, her personality makes her not hot.
Me: choking and laughing and spluttering

Whole gym looked at us like wtf just happened.  And that's how I got my abdominal workout.  :)

He backpedaled on that all day over texts.  Was fkn hilarious.  It's a good thing I was having a good hair day, or I might have been offended. 

That was the highlight of my day, and it went to shit afterwards.  I had a great workout, felt great, and then ended up with a post-workout migraine.  Like I used to get.  I'm hoping it's an anomaly. 

I also got a call from Totoro's friend saying she voluntarily went back to the hospital for more tests.  I tried calling both her cell phone and her aide's (who drove her) multiple times but was unable to reach either one.  Sigh.  I'm worried.

At 7 pm, I took meds, turned my phone on Do Not Disturb, and crawled into bed, with Kitten joining soon after.

Wednesday, January 6, 2016

never leave pufferfish hair as is

Yesterday, I woke up with my hair looking like an angry pufferfish.  I foolishly assumed I would be fine in my own home because Kitten didn't seem particularly scared.

And then my neighbor fell.  I ran next door as the paramedics were arriving.  The CUTE paramedics.  Sigh.  Is that a job requirement now?  My neighbor (shall I call her Totoro after the movie?) never ate the previous night when she got home from the hospital because she was too tired.  And she was in the middle of making breakfast when she lost her balance and fell, probably due to low blood sugar.  They checked her vitals, and she seemed fine besides being shook up.  They quizzed her about current events to make sure she was coherent.  She even got the year right.  How many of us would?

So there I was, barefoot, hair sticking all directions, trying to look like a competent adult who could take care of her after they left (because she was adamant about not going back to the hospital).  Her aide showed up a little bit later looking very flustered (minus the pufferfish hair) and talked 30 mph about her car, her husband, errands, etc.  I promised everyone that I would get Totoro fed, call her son, call her friend, and keep an eye on things until her aide could return again.

Boy, did I fool them.  Thank goodness she didn't require much of her breakfast to be cooked.  :)  I managed to get her soft-boiled egg cooked to edible standards, so that's something.  And mostly didn't burn anything in the toaster.  Who uses a toaster anymore??  She was very good about telling me what went where and which dishes and utensils to use.  I took a pic of her eating and texted it to her son.  Hehe, she's still vain enough that we took a few before she approved of the one I could send.  I went back through her old texts, and we looked at pics her family had sent over Xmas.  I got her laughing about the antics of her great-grandchild.

After she had finished eating and all calls were returned, I walked her into the den and settled her in under her blankies.  It was very cold yesterday (high 60s, low 70s).  I left her with two phones nearby, the tissue box, her water, and the TV remote.  Pretty sure she was asleep before I made it home.

I know the paramedics, her son, her aide, and her friend would have preferred for me to stay.  But she values her independence and doesn't like people fussing over her ALL the time. Therefore, I listened to her preferences and no one else's.  People tend to treat old people like small children.  Mofos, that woman has been through more shit than we can imagine.  I'm pretty sure she's earned the right to do wtf she wants, when she wants.

I called to check on her a couple hours later.  She was ready for lunch by then, and her aide still hadn't returned from her errands.  I went back over and helped her to the fridge, after first offering to have her sit at the table and bring her food.  Hehe, why does everyone love standing at the fridge doors peering in?  She settled on some leftover Chinese food but insisted that it be heated up.  And looked at me oddly when I said I would have eaten it cold.  This from a woman who eats raw bacon.  Just saying.  :)

Her aide showed up mid-meal, and I caught her up with everything she had eaten, meds taken, etc.  I left Totoro with another full belly, settled in her other comfy chair, with her blankies tucked under her chin.

I may go over later today with some chocolate so we can gossip about the cute paramedics...

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

she's home from the hospital

Thanks, everyone, for being concerned about my neighbor.  Also, how bizarre that I wrote about Schrodinger yesterday, and that was the anniversary of his death, which I found out about later.  Weird, huh?

Speaking of death, don't you hate when you get obviously hacked spam email from a friend who is dead?  Yeah, me too.  Or maybe it's a message from beyond the grave?  Because she wants me to meet singles in my area.  :)

I slept pretty well last night, almost 8 hours total.  Yippee.  It's a good thing I went to sleep early, because most times when I wake up early and try to fall asleep again, I can't because my mind goes from 0 to 140 mph in about 2.3 seconds.  And then sleep is useless.  Yes, I've tried meditation to quiet my mind, but it's not that easy.  Listening to podcasts help because they can sometimes distract my mind into just one subject.  But the speaker needs to have a soothing vocal rhythm.  I listened to one unnamed podcast the other day and had to slow the speed down by half.  Either it was mixed poorly or that fkr was on some serious caffeine.  Or both.

Even though I slept well and didn't feel like I was restless all night, my hair still looks like an angry pufferfish this morning.  I blame inferior hair products.  :P

Monday, January 4, 2016

no one is promised tomorrow

I decided to grow the fuck up and stop crying about poor me.  I have resumed my familial role of peacekeeper and counselor.  Because why not?  They do love me, even if they don't do it exactly how I want.  My first act of reaching out to one of my siblings seemed normal.  In fact, it kind of reminded me of the time I ran away from home for several hours when I was 6, and no one noticed.  Man, that was disheartening.  I don't think anyone noticed my taking a break from the family for a few weeks either.  Maybe that's for the best, so I don't have to explain why and make anyone feel bad.

No one is promised tomorrow.  I'll try to stop taking that for granted and not waste today over my hurt feelings and pride.

I had quite a scare at 2am.  I blissfully fell asleep around 9 pm and slept almost five whole hours.  And then I checked my phone and saw missed calls and voicemails.  My phone goes on Do Not Disturb automatically every night because sleep is so precious to me.  My elderly neighbor was taken to the hospital with chest pains.  How the fuck did I sleep through all of that racket of the ambulance and everything?  Her number is programmed to go through my Do Not Disturb, but not the people who called me.  Yes, that has been rectified.

I immediately tried her cell phone, but it went to voicemail.  And I'm fairly certain she doesn't know how to check that, so I didn't leave a message.  I delayed calling the hospital until 7 am.  Partly because if she had managed to get checked in and had fallen asleep, I didn't want to wake her.  And partly because of fkn Schrodinger and his poor fkn cat.  For those of you unfamiliar, it basically means that all outcomes are possible until you know for sure.  To me, this meant she was fine until I knew one way or another.  Except I had nightmares the rest of the night when I tried to fall back asleep.

I called the hospital at 7 am and held back the snap in my voice when the woman answering the phone said she had no record of my neighbor.  I spelled her last name for the third time (it's not that tricksy) and asked her to verify.  Again.  Thankfully, she found her then.  I briefly spoke with her, but she doesn't know much until she sees her doctor later.

Make the most of your day, even if Mondays suck.

Sunday, January 3, 2016

stronger in the places that we've been broken?

It's another Hemingway quote: “We're stronger in the places that we've been broken.”

I'm not sure I agree with him on this, but it's a pretty thought, and I'd like to agree.  I feel as if my brokenness (for lack of a better term) makes me more human, but not necessarily stronger.  It feels like my brokenness and my insecurities keep attacking the same spots in my psyche.  And whatever I'm doing to fix them isn't working.  Like I'm trying to fix a gaping hole in the wall with some Spackle and duct tape.  Who am I kidding?  As if I'd ever use Spackle.  I'd fix that hole by hanging a curtain over it, or putting a pretty picture on the opposite wall to pull your eyes away.  :)  I'm not sure what that does to my analogy, though.  I suck at analogies, but I'm okay with that.

In any case, I really want to fix my brokenness (I think?), but I can't seem to find the right formula.  Or maybe I was making progress before a Cat 5 emotional hurricane came through my life last year and ripped away more of that wall.  Hehe, I love saying last year.  I LOVE YOU ALREADY, 2016!

If I haven't fixed my brokenness in all these years, do I really want to fix it?  Who originally broke that part of me?  Was it a specific incident or just an ongoing buildup of yuck (technical term I learned in college)?  Do I really need to know to fix it?  Can I just re-frame my mind and say, "I'm fixed now?"  Brains and psyches are a lot more complicated than housing structures.  They should be able to heal on their own, right?  If given the proper fuel?  I'm kind of strong-willed when I want to be, which I think is similar to Spackle, right?

Why did the holidays fuck with me so bad?  I'm not religious, so they don't have some deep meaning to me.  I mostly like the fun and beauty of the season.  And the food, let's be honest.  I also like taking a moment to celebrate family, which may be what hurt me the most this year.  Mine was cleaved in two.  And to add to it, I'm the peacekeeper in my family (or at least that's my reality).  If I don't step up to do the job, no one else does.  And somehow I felt as if they all still expected me to, even though I was a fkn mess.  Instead of me saying that to anyone, I just held it inside and hurt more.  Dumb-ass.

Why am I magically better now that an arbitrary date has passed?  Am I that easily fooled and manipulated?  Maybe don't answer that.  :P   Hey, look over there at that pretty picture I just put up.  Nice, isn't it?  :)

Friday, January 1, 2016

old year's night

I went from feeling sorry for myself last Saturday to having three options for new year's eve.  Option one, a woman in my martial arts class invited me to her party.  That sounded like a blast, but it was far away.  Especially on a night when every asshole and their cousin is drinking. 

Option two, my brother invited me to his party.  He usually has fun people and great food, but I felt like a charity case still.  Sigh. 

Option three and the most likely one was to throw myself a PityParty.  Not to brag, but I'm really proficient at these.  I've been doing them for years and can even do them in my sleep.  Which I've done in the past, you doubters. 

Guess which option I picked??  Option one started feeling farther and farther away after looking at Google maps.  Option two was cancelled so he could attend someone else's party.  That left option three -- the PityParty.

I did that fkr up right!!  I got a migraine so bad I had to kick the cat out of bed because her tiny little footfalls on the bed felt like a fkn earthquake.  There was some contorting on the bathroom floor in pain, but apparently I'm refining my technique because there was no vomiting in my hair.  YAY!!  After many meds, and some torturous texts and calls to a friend until the meds kicked in, I started feeling better.  [Thank you for that.  I know it's hard to listen to someone suffer in pain while you're sitting there helpless.]  The crown jewels of my party were all of the fireworks explosions and emergency sirens every few minutes coming from outside.  No matter, I was safely ensconced in my cocoon while what I can only assume was The Purge, happened outside.

Sometimes I wonder if people have any idea when I text them platitudes, that I'm literally sitting here crying telling them to have fun and enjoy whatever cool thing they're telling me about.  I have to assume they don't.  No one is that big of a monster, right?   And then my mind starts going darker wondering wtf is wrong with me.  And then I pull my head out of my ass and wonder whom I'm texting who is sitting there in pain, and I'm the oblivious one.   I know everyone loves texting now, but please pick up the phone now and again and hear a human voice to make sure that person is actually doing okay.

Aside from some bruising by my own fingers when I pushed so hard for acupressure reasons, I'm feeling pretty good.  I woke up early (thanks, Kitten), washed my hair, and savored my Wendycoffee.  Happy New Year, my delightful friends!  I feel a good hair day coming along.