madness is creeping in

I've had more migraine days this month than non-migraine days.  But that's not a disability according to Social Security.  I'm still bitter.

Yesterday, I was able to workout at the gym with my friend and have a sushi lunch together.  It was the first time I felt like leaving my house in over a week.  I came home so recharged and refreshed.  I truly needed that.

I forced myself to go for a short walk a few days prior because I'm dumb and thought maybe fresh air and slight exercise might help.  I barely made it home without vomiting or fainting.

I've had many days of lying in bed with an ice-pack, wondering why.

Why bother?

Why me?

Why do I feel so young and fantastic some days and so old and decrepit others?

Why did life go so horribly wrong?

Yes, I know it's random and no deeper meaning, but my mind still yearns for answers.

I've been listening to audio books and am almost through the whole Chronicles of Narnia series.  It's mostly soothing, although I adjust the volume level every few minutes, depending on my AC running, the amount of rain falling, any other outside noise, the placement of the ice-pack on my face, and just general pain and irritation levels.  Plus there's one screechy talking mouse, Reepicheep, whose voice grates on my literal nerves.  My trigeminal starts to attack me when he talks.

I have moments of lucidity when the meds kick in so I can feed the cat and myself, although my appetite hasn't been prodigious except for after the gym.  Mostly I've been surviving on frozen food because standing (or sitting on the floor) at the microwave for four minutes is about all I can endure.

My supplies are running low, and I will have to venture forth soon to replenish them.  I keep telling myself tomorrow I will wake up better.  It's kind of amazing how resilient hope is, even when all of the evidence is to the contrary.

alone

This was my first Christmas where I spoke with no one.  Not in person, nor on the phone.  Some people texted me good tidings, but no one called.  

I was fine most of the day, but sadness hit me around 6 pm.  I shed a few tears and gave myself a lecture that it was just a migraine prodrome and not actual sadness.  That almost helped.  I thought about consuming alcohol or bingeing on chocolates to wallow in my misery.  But the logical part of my brain said, "Really, Wendy??  You're possibly having migraine prodrome and you want to exacerbate that with known triggers?!  What the fuck is wrong with you??"  So I ate one piece of chocolate, nodded at my liquor stash, and started reading a new murder mystery.

It turns out I survived and didn't even need to throw a Pity Party.  

Go #TeamWendy!

popcorn for dinner

Yesterday was a blah day.  I felt fine, mostly.   

But I couldn't bring myself to eat nutritious food for dinner.  I snacked on cheesy popcorn while reading The Princess Bride.  I'd never read it before and had heard how fantastic it was.  It's good, but I think I built up my expectations too high.  

the year is 17776 (not a typo)

A friend sent me this link to a quasi-space opera, or maybe it's merely science fiction once I read more.  I'm only partially through it, so no spoilers please.  Apparently it's updated frequently, but I'm not sure of the interval.

It's really weird and all over the place.  I'm still on the fence if I like it, but it's certainly different and interesting.  Plus I love that it comes out in installments.  And I always like to encourage reading other people's writing when it's well done.

Go read, and tell me what you think.

date a girl who reads

I recently learned about this series of articles about which women to date and why.

Why You Should Date A Girl Who Reads

You Should Date An Illiterate Girl

Date A Girl Who Writes


A bunch of stereotypes and tropes if you ask me.  I've had a library card since before age 12.  I don't sniff old books because the mildewy scent can trigger a migraine.  And, no non-dairy creamer for me.  Give me butter!!

Besides the sexist nature of these articles, I appreciated the focus on intellectual pursuits. 

I love to read, but lately I'm having a hard time focusing.  I'm not sure if it's because I picked books which aren't suitable for my mind or if I'm finally succumbing to the millennial disease of too much input / distractions.  I sure hope it's a temporary situation because I miss all my friends (old as well as yet to be discovered) in my books.

is 8 am too early to hit the rum today?

I won't go too deeply into details about my PityParty yesterday.  But there were clowns and rum.  And balloons and tissues.  And glitter and Imitrex.  And funny hats and trash novels.  And popcorn and Kitten (who barely left my side).  And biscotti.  From my ex's BFF.  He shipped me some homemade biscotti for Christmas.  Which was very considerate and delicious.  I didn't eat the whole box.  Yet.  The worst part of my PityParty was that I was there.  I tried to get me to leave several times.  No dice. 

I've pretty much eschewed human contact.  Well that, and humans have eschewed my contact.  I went almost 24 hours with no word from anyone.  Which is odd.  Several of my siblings and friends knew I was in the throes of a migraine.  No one checked on me past the initial, hey feel better.  I'm sure they thought they were giving me peace and quiet.  If they thought at all.  Probably they're all wrapped up in their own Vietnam.  Not many people can make it through this time of year without a meltdown or crisis of some sort.  Quit being so selfish, Wendy.  Other people have problems, too.

The migraine came back.  It wasn't as bad this time.  But the meltdown was.  If I cry alone in the woods, do I still need to hold back the wracking sobs?  Asking for a friend.  Ho Lee Fuk.  I'm ready to wake up tomorrow as someone else.  Because I'm not happy when I'm unhappy.  I'm much happier being happy.

uh oh, having a fangirl moment

Yesterday, I tweeted about reading Luther Campbell's book.  And he re-tweeted me.  Squee!  Twice.  Squee, squee!  Okay, I'm done freaking out.  (It's just as exciting as when Steve Gibson wrote a lengthy reply to my DM on Twitter.)

I went digging through my old CDs (sigh, yes I still have a bunch) to look for my 2 Live Crew one.  I remember having to drive across town to a special store to buy it because it was banned in most stores.  This was pre-Internet.  Oh, the horror!  I couldn't find it amongst my other classics like Metallica: Ride the Lightning, so I texted my brother to see if he had it.  He said he only ever had the cassette, which he may still have packed away in a box.  Hehehehe.  It was a hot commodity back then, so I'm guessing someone 'borrowed' mine, and I never got it back.

I also remember when Luther's club on South Beach first opened, and I had no female friends to go with.  I happened to be dating a really, really white guy at the time who was super nice and offered to take me.  I think we were the only white people in the club, but I sure had fun.  :)  I dressed up in my hot-pants and thigh-high boots and grooved to great dance music.  I got a little nervous when I went to the ladies room and accidentally interrupted a drug deal.  I played it cool, did my business, washed my hands, fixed my mane of hair (black women, even drug dealers, understand that shit), and left with a quickness.  No one gave us a hard time though, which is more than I can say for the black clubs in New York City.  Not that it stopped me from going to those.  Because I was young and didn't care.

Reading Luther's book is similar to watching Billy Corben's movies -- experiencing the real Miami that I grew up in, not the hoity-toity South Beach shit depicted today.  Miami was raw, raunchy, and fkn terrifying at times.  It was also exciting and an adventure every day, where I learned more than I did from my so-called formal education.  I probably can't list most (any?) of what I learned on my professional resumé though.

I stayed up too late reading last night, and Kitten woke me very early this morning (same as she always does).  I can't lie around reading all day because I have chores to do.  Also, I need to keep myself from full immersion in the book, so I don't trigger any childhood PTSD.  He does a pretty good job of depicting how it was when the Cuban boatlift came over, and the blacks and whites ended up as unlikely allies, in many, many turf and cultural wars.  Except now I get to hear it from the black perspective.  I'm still amazed that anyone was left alive, on any side.

Maybe I can play some 2 Live Crew to make me laugh (and dance) while I do my chores.  Such a hard life today lol.  ;)  After I watch the season finale of Formula One, of course.

places I've been today

          

I've been so lazy today.  I watched F1 qualifying this morning.  Ate a bit.  Mostly, I've been reading Luther Campbell's new book, The Book of Luke: My Fight for Truth, Justice, and Liberty City.

And I have no idea where the day went.  Best kind of Saturday.

Day 3? 4? 500?

I can't decide if large company events are trying to inculcate employees by wearing us down, or if it's merely incompetent planning by party-type people who carb-load on pastries in the morning, along with heavy caffeine ingestion to make up for the insulin crash from the sugar excess.  And also because they stayed up all night drinking at the open bar.  Either way, it doesn't seem like an intelligent corporate strategy.   And yet, more companies than not think this is acceptable.  Dumb-asses.

Breakfast today was more of the same.  Except for the lively conversation from my Southern co-workers discussing deer hunting with a crossbow.  And then how to skin the deer.  I also learned about ghillie suits, and how to make them.  I loved moving from their table to my New England liberal co-workers' table and watching their shocked expressions of disgust when I shared my new knowledge.  It's good to find joy in the little things.  :)
 
Last day.  Yippee.  I hope my phone battery holds out through goofing off in the morning sessions and then all the time at the airport.   I'll have to search up an outlet somewhere.  Or God forbid, resort to old-fashioned daydreaming when I get bored.  I even have a ready-made daydream available -- yummy airport food.  Who thought that vision would come out of my brain?   Or maybe a daydream of a lovely warm Epsom bath?  I've been burning through magnesium like crazy here, taking 4 and 5 capsules a day.  Higher stress requires higher magnesium consumption.

Fortunately, I have a book to read on the plane.  I guess I can read in the airport, too, instead of whining to my friends and family via text messages and emails.  Nah, where would the fun of that be?   :)

Lost kitty, found kitty

I was relaxing upstairs, reading in bed, after my Jasmine-scented Epsom bath.  Next thing I know, Kitten is yowling like she's being tortured.  I ran downstairs to see what the fuck was going on, even though I had a pretty good idea.  You see, she only makes that noise when she sees another cat.  Because she's socially retarded and can't get along with anyone. 

There on my back porch is a cute orange cat looking in at us.  I tried to quiet Kitten down and reassure her, but she didn't fully calm down until he left, about five minutes later.  I had thought about feeding him, but I didn't want to encourage him to hang out and make her insane, which in turn makes me insane.

I went back upstairs and was just getting comfy again when I heard a commotion out the front this time.  People yelling something about an orange cat.  I ran back downstairs and carefully slipped out the front so Kitten couldn't follow.  The last thing I needed was a cat-fight.  I found the owners of the orange cat and told them I had just seen him. 

They went running into my backyard, but of course he was gone.  The wife told me that Kitten goes to their house some mornings and yowls at poor, old, decrepit Thoreau through the window.  Don't I feel like an asshole, the mother of a bully.  Neighbor lady seemed to think they're just chatty friends, so I didn't disabuse her of that notion. 

I went out back and peered into the bushes, half scared that the possum would come charging out.  No kitty and no possum (thankfully).  I left Kitten on guard duty for the night.  I knew she'd alert me if he came back. 

It turns out she didn't alert me, but the dog next door did.  There I was trying to fkn read again, and the yappy dog next door was going nutters.  I went out back again, and there was the kitty, next door.  His owner scooped him up, there was much rejoicing, and everyone lived happily ever after.  

Now, can I relax?

the snowbirds are back

Traffic on the roadways has thickened with furriners avoiding the cold weather for a weekend or a season.  Ugh.  [Pro-tip: Stay off the roads at rush hour if you don't need to be on them.   And stay out of the left lane of the highway unless you're passing or traveling at greater than 80 mph.]  Reservations are now required days in advance for most restaurants.  It seems way earlier this year.  Or maybe I'm still cranky from the fkn time change.

I went out Saturday night and heard many different languages, which I didn't recognize.  Some were presumably even in English.  G'damn kids today with their stupid syntax and their silly music.  Get off my lawn!  And stop with the cigarettes in crowded public spaces.  Who cares if it's legal or not?  It's fkn impolite.  And you stink.  Same with you, Mr. Pompous-Ass-with-your-cigar.  And, you, Mr. I'm-so-sexy-I-wear-a-full-bottle-of-cologne-when-I-go-out.

Before you think I've turned into Negative Nancy, there were commendable highlights, too.  I saw three adorable elderly women who came up to my shoulder, all decked out and painting the town red.  Way past their bedtime, or at least way past mine.  I saw the potential for loads of crime, and yet no crime, except for crimes of offense, as mentioned above.  [Another Pro-tip: Don't leave your phone sitting on your table in easy reach of people walking by on the street.  You're not in Kansas anymore.] 

Chefs are now competing for street cred and have upped their game.  The food everywhere is exquisitely delicious.  The wait staff are hired for optimal efficiency and smooth manners.  It makes me want to try so many new restaurants.  Until I remember that more than 20 minutes in most people's company makes my teeth itch.  I'd rather be home eating four day old chicken and reading a book.

close encounters of the female kind

Martial arts conditioning class wasn't as good this week as last week's class.  Different people in the class, different moods, different dynamics.  Also, I was recovering from a migraine, so I tried to take it easy, which in the end proved to be futile.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

It was still fun, don't get me wrong.  I laughed a lot, but not as much to make my abs ache.  And a two-day-Hurricane-Joaquin migraine had zapped my energy, leaving me barely able to train the full 90 minutes, even with lower weights and lower reps.

A few of us decided, as is becoming traditional these days, to go out to eat after.  Again, different people, different dynamics.  And, another chain restaurant.  Sigh, I used to eat so much better before I became single.  Before you start with the lectures about how every restaurant has at least one healthy option, I must remind you that not all ingredients are created equal.  I typically eat organic, grass-fed, hand-petted beef.  Not dropsy cows hauled off to the abattoir.  Most chains don't offer that.  But I was starving for food (and good company), so I ordered the antibiotic-riddled burger and hung out with my friends.  Which was entertaining and informative.  I heard from my German friend what Germans are actually saying about the migrants/refugees in Europe.  SPOILER: It's not what we hear on the news.

My burger was tasty, and I was able to substitute asparagus for french fries.  And a box to take home the other half I couldn't finish.  Not enough calories burned.  The waitress was pleasant and efficient but called everyone 'sweetie,' which reminded me of the South Park episode where they spoofed Hooters.  And right at the end, she somehow casually mentioned a double-shift and a 3 year old daughter.  Guess who got LARGE tips from all of us?  Did I mention my party was mostly women, and lesbians at that?

And speaking of lesbians, one brought her sister to class and to dinner.  And she came out to her about being gay as we were walking to our cars.  That was my first time being a part of that.  The sister was very supportive but said she already knew.  And the rest of us just made jokes to try to alleviate some of the awkwardness.

Everyone left except for one other woman and me.  And we chatted a bit in the parking lot, which turned into a serious heart to heart for almost two hours.  We had some personal shit to reconcile from years ago that we both (mainly me) had just glossed over.  A few cigarettes (her, not me) and some tears later, we had buried the hatchet.  I hope.  It was now past my bedtime.  She had tried to blow the smoke away from me, but I'm hypersensitive.  And some came my way.  Add in some emotional issues and a hurricane, and it was a recipe for the migraine to return.

I sped home and jumped in the shower instead of a long soak in the bath.  And right to bed.  I skipped the meds because it was borderline, and I thought maybe sleeping would abort it.  Dumbass.  I woke up in pain, took meds, let the cat out, got the ice pack, and went back to sleep for a couple hours.  That did the trick.  For now.  The hurricane is still right off the coast, so I'm not sure how long that will continue to affect me.  Luckily, it's Saturday, and I have no plans except to read and eat.  And maybe some pool time if I'm not too photophobic.  The weather outside is gorgeous.  You wouldn't even know a deadly storm lurked offshore.

owwwie, but the good kind

Yay, I finally made it back to my martial arts conditioning class because the eye doc said no more restrictions.  Holy owwww!  I picked a harsh night to come back.  Sensei even took it a bit easy on me, but with everyone else pushing hard, I felt extra motivated.

He partnered me up with a girl half my age (or thereabouts) and as flexible as a toddler.  In his defense, it's tricksy to find anyone in my weight-class.  One-legged squats while holding your partner's leg isn't nearly as easy as it sounds.  Sensei steadied my hip to make sure I didn't crash and burn and pull her down with me.

We did eleventy-five types of push-ups, including the brutal Superman ones with arms straight forward.  I haven't done those in years and wasn't sure I still could.  I managed four, although I could have pushed myself and done more, but I didn't want to show off.  ;)  The young 19-year-old man who looked to be in excellent shape and regularly takes the real martial arts classes during the week couldn't even do one.  Go me! 

A few of us went out to eat afterward, and I scarfed down double what I normally do.  I had expended way more calories than I've done for weeks.  Of course, we talked for over an hour, laughed extensively, and had tons of fun.  The laughter hurt every time because we had just done such an ab-intensive workout.  Which made us laugh even more. 

I came straight home (after a brief thought of grocery shopping that I nixed with a quickness) and into an Epsom salt bath, with extra scoops of pharmaceutical grade Epsom.  I was so exhausted that I had to cut my bath short or risk falling asleep in it.  I melted into my bed expecting to drift into sleep immediately.  Which I was on the path of, until my body started crying with how much it was aching.  I took some more magnesium, which helped enough to fall asleep.  Five hours later, I woke up in pain again and took even more magnesium before going back to sleep.

I feel great today!  It's been so long since I've done a hard class like that.  It's virtually impossible to have insomnia after that.  Even with Thor starting his theatrics again.  Kitten disappeared under the bed after the third crash of thunder, and I rolled over and went back to sleep.

I had plans for running errands today, like the groceries I briefly thought about getting last night.  I'm using ice cream in my coffee because I ran out of cream.  And I need chlorine for my pool because of the multitude of plant matter that the tree-trimmers inadvertently dropped in my pool, then add in all of the storms, and now it's slightly green.  But my body is so exhausted today that I foresee a lazy day of reading and moving from couch to couch to bed, with maybe another hot bath in there somewhere.  And lots of food.

2 sleeps sleeper

Maybe I don't have insomnia.  Maybe I've migrated from sleeping eight hours straight every night to what our ancestors used to do, sleep 3-5 hours twice a night.  Instead of tending the fire or the cows, I wake up after a few hours to tend Kitten and check that the house is secure.  And I work through residual emotions in the peace and quiet of nighttime, some mental reflection if you will.  I'd like to sleep more hours total, but I end up with about seven hours anyway.  Or maybe I'm fooling myself.

I've installed blue light blockers on my PCs and phones.  I've removed cool light-bulbs and installed warm ones.  I have dark curtains in my bedroom.  I refuse to get a back-lit Kindle and instead use my old one, which requires me to turn on a light.  Or gasp, I read an actual book.  Those still foil me at times, when I try to see what time it is on it.  Or want to look up a word with which I'm not familiar.

I also try melatonin occasionally, but it has been known to induce nightmares or fuck up my hormones.  I'm still working on what dosage might be best for me, if any.

I quit fucking around and bought a 25lb bag of pharmaceutical grade Epsom Salt for pre-bedtime relaxing baths. Plus, baths are just fun, especially when I add scented oils, although Kitten still watches suspiciously like why the fuck are you doing this to yourself?

I've basically done everything on this Top Ten List of how to sleep better, although I will admit how hard it can be to rid myself of worries before sleeping.  Sometimes I get stuck in places inside my head.  I've tried meditation, but I'm a huge multi-tasker, and I suck at quieting my mind completely.  It's why I've leaned so heavily on podcasts before bedtime.  I can let my monkey mind chew on something interesting, but non-stressful, while also trying to quiet it down.

Does moving from one full sleep to two half-sleeps mean I've progressed or regressed?

2:30am

Really?  Serial killer nightmares?  I couldn't just get one good night's sleep?  I even disturbed Kitten, who was sleeping nicely nearby.  I'm trying to forget the filth and blood-flies.  Ugh.  I'll spare you the rest, although that was kind of the worst.  Mostly just the forensic team gathering evidence.  

And no, I hadn't been reading anything like that before I slept.  It was a kid's book on King Arthur FFS.  A friend sent me some light reading to cheer me up.  Because I have awesome friends.  Thanks!  

I went to sleep on a happy positive note.  I managed to get 5.5 hours of uninterrupted sleep beforehand, so that's something.  And *I* wasn't the serial killer or the victim, so that's a bonus, too.  That's really stretching to figure out my gratitude, isn't it?  'Hey guys, I had a great Thursday night, I wasn't a serial killer!'

In looking up dream meanings, it seems this is way more common of a dream than I suspected.  Who knew so many people (maybe even the fkr right NEXT to you) dreamt of serial killers??  I like this meaning the best.  Because I'm a special snowflake.  :)  Apparently not many people dream of the forensic team that has to clean up and investigate it because after 10 seconds of searching, I found nothing.  I guess I am a special snowflake, after all.

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.

Came across one of my favorite poems

Touch me ...
In secret places no one has reached before,
In silent places where words only interfere,
In sad places where only whispering makes sense.

Touch me ...
In the morning when night still clings,
At midday when confusion crowds upon me,
At twilight as I begin to know who I am,
In the evening when I see you and hear you, best of all.

Touch me ...
Like a child who will never have enough love,
For I am a girl who wants to be lost in your arms,
A woman who has known enough pain to love.

Touch me ...
In crowds when a single look says everything,
In solitude when it's too dark to even look,
In absence when I reach for you through time and miles.

Touch me ...
In winter when darkness comes early and the softness of fur surrounds my face,
In summer when the sun makes me languid and water laps at my feet,
In spring when lovers come alive,
In fall when the woods call to wanderers and dry leaves make the softest pillows.

Touch me ...
When I ask,
When I'm afraid to ask.

Touch me ...
With your lips
Your hands
Your words
Your presence in the room.

Touch me ...
Gently for I am fragile,
Firmly for I am strong,
Often for I am alone.

Touch me ...
With your thoughts that only your smile reveals,
With your heart, your soul, your mind,
Let me know that I am here,
For I was made to be touched by you.

Touch me.

Ice cream works in a pinch

A friend of mine recently told me to try ice cream in my coffee when I ran out of cream.  He even said it would work when freezer burn had set in.  I decided to try it this morning, sans freezer burn.  It's actually quite good, although I did leave out the Stevia this morning so it wouldn't be too sweet.

While out in my backyard a few days ago, I found a men's dress watch, still working.  Creepy.  I texted my landscapers to see if one of their crew lost it, but so far nothing.  Creepier.  If I suddenly stop writing here, you'll know I've been murdered by a man (or is that what she wants you to think??) missing a watch.  Sounds like a case for Encyclopedia Brown.

I have BIG plans for my extended holiday weekend.  If the weather cooperates, I plan to read and get some sun.  Otherwise, I plan to read and chill in the AC.  I just finished book three (800+ pages) of the Outlander series and am debating starting book four (1,000+ pages) or taking a break.  They're incredibly good but prodigiously long.  Also, Ernest Cline's new book is coming out soon, and I want to read that, too, and not be caught in the middle of something else.  Because I also have an audible book that I listen to when I'm too tired or in too much pain to read.  So many stories, so little time.

I'd rather get whisked away into a fictional adventure than to turn to what most people call entertainment these days.  The movies are all remakes, with shaky cinematography.  The news is all depressing and perhaps manufactured, unless one puts in the effort to discern the truth.  And that truth is usually even more depressing than the infotainment which is churned out. 

Anyway, enough of that, time to tune into the British Formula One Grand Prix practice session at Silverstone and daydream about my need for speed.

Monday, July 16, 2007

I might be stubborn.  Okay, I am; but that which does not kill me shall make me stronger, right?  Holy fuck, this may kill me.  I've had a migraine on & off (mostly on) for a week now.  They're coming on more frequently and lasting longer, although in hindsight, I'm still fortunate that the severity isn't as intense as it used to be.  Here's where the stubbornness comes in.  I refuse to go crawling back to my chiropractor every fkn week to adjust my neck.  Can't it stay adjusted ffs??

On a positive note, I had a lovely weekend in between bouts of pain.  I had sushi with my in-laws (I love them so much!), watched the new Harry Potter movie with my Sensei followed by Thai food, lounged by the pool, and read my book. 

Before I could enjoy my pool time, I had to clean it first, and the Polaris pool-scrubber thingamajig had been making me crazy for weeks now.  It's so hard for me to unscrew the Quick Disconnect (ha!) in order to clean the filter.  I'd always have to wait for Galahad to get home to do it for me or open all the valves for an hour to let the pressure out.  Today, I finally had enough and gave myself an Idiot Lecture.  As I was standing in the pool to try and unsuccessfully connect it back (more leverage from inside the pool or so I thought), I had a little light bulb go off (figuratively thankfully so I wasn't electrocuted).  I decided that Google had never let me down before, and why hadn't I bothered to Google this problem yet.  In the past, Google has helped me figure out how to un-jam the coin holder in my car and how to change the special a/c filters among other things.  I jumped out of the pool, and before I had dried off, I had my answer.  Not only was it simple and easy to do, it worked brilliantly.

I bow down before the almighty Google.  Now, if only it could help me open the jar of mixed nuts that I'm jonesing for.  I tried all of the methods I knew plus some that I Googled.  I suppose I need to keep working out.  Sigh, Galahad needs to hurry up and come home. 

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Tried to do an old-fashioned beach day today.  Now I remember why I don't do this much anymore.    It was a gorgeous day, low 70s and not a cloud in the sky.  I put on sunblock, packed snacks and went with a few friends to the beach.  I had sufficient water to stay hydrated and blankets on which to lie.  However, we had no umbrella.  And the rental ones can be used only where they're clustered.  Sigh.  And, because of parking issues, we all came in one car.  So after an hour or two, I was all sunned out and ready to leave but couldn't.  I moved into the shade nearby and started to get chewed on by no-see-ums.  I literally had hundreds on my shirtsleeves.  So then I moved even farther away onto the pavement where the old people congregate.  Meanwhile, all of my friends were in the water having fun. 

I was reading a magazine but couldn't concentrate and really started to feel like a left out freak.  Here I was at the beach on one of the most perfect days of the year, fighting back tears and hiding under my Gilligan hat.  I ate my snacks, drank my water, and read my magazine.  Finally, they were ready to go and were making plans for dinner & movies, etc.  I was so over hanging out by then but somehow felt like I couldn't say no.  Hate that.  We all went to our respective homes to shower & change.  I of course grabbed a small snack to tide me over.  In hindsight, I should have grabbed a real meal.  It turns out girls take forever to get ready, and I was way beyond hungry by then and onto a full-blown migraine.  So, I ended up saying no to the rest of the night and spent a quiet night by myself on meds.

They all said I should have told them I needed to leave, but I didn't want to ruin their fun.  In retrospect, I should have because they were burnt pretty bad.  When did I become such a sissy girl?  How much of a loser am I that I got lonely in the middle of all that humanity and fun-ness?