[3:18 PM, 9/9/2019] Ari: [1:54 PM, 9/9/2019] Mom: How’s Rick today?
[2:04 PM, 9/9/2019] Ari: don’t really know.. haven’t seen him today
[2:12 PM, 9/9/2019] Mom: did he go to work?
[2:14 PM, 9/9/2019] Ari: no, he locked himself in a small room and there’s a foul odor emanating from it; I fear he has shuffled off this mortal coil.. that he has ceased to be… that he wouldn’t move if I pumped 20,000 volts in to him.. and he has thrown down the curtain and joined the choir invisible.. I fear he could be… AN EX- RICK
[2:14 PM, 9/9/2019] Ari: yes, he went to work
[2:24 PM, 9/9/2019] Mom: you are a smart ass
[2:24 PM, 9/9/2019] Ari: and I come by it honestly
[2:25 PM, 9/9/2019] Mom: well yeah…you really didn’t have much of a chance

 

Funny things happen when fall rolls around.. I start thinking about good old November. And I’ve pretty much come to the conclusion that while I do have another fae book in me, it’s going to have to wait.

That’s right, I’m going for the real book.. the liter’ry effort. The adult fiction in which I explore themes of connection among the disconnected, grief, severance of body from soul, definition of self, divinity of self, sin, and redemption.

Sounds like a nice, light read for the beach, amirite?

 

 

So I woke up around 4 to find that most fearsome of findings.. a sick Rick. Considering I’d gone to bed late with some lovely shingles effects hitting post migraine, the news was unwelcome at best.

Like the angelic and sympathetic wife I am, I ascertained that there was nothing to be done for sick Rick and went back to sleep until his next spasm of stomach revolt woke me again.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

I got up and went out to start my day with breakfast (which I did tactfully offer to eat far far away from sick Rick), and upkeep of my happy little zen places, which I think I will be adjourning to later today.

The hose in the front yard has had a leak for a few days now.. well, today it decided to turn just so and really let loose, rapidly dowsing me, my zen place, Bree, and the entryway of the house.

Really everywhere but the plants I needed it to hit.

After scrambling to turn the damn thing off, I stood there, dripping and shivering in the light morning breeze, and a hummingbird dove for me.

Understand, I’m wearing black. It wasn’t attracted by color. It hung in the air in a perfect Disney moment six inches from my nose, and I know damned good and well it said ‘HA HA’ a la Nelson.

We’ve got a week to go til Santa Fe Ren Faire, a pile of work to do, a hose to go buy and install, laughing asshole hummingbirds, a pissed off wet corgi, and two bodies that don’t reallllly wanna cooperate.

Can I go back to bed?

So, there’s this recipe that keeps bobbing around in my space… and today I finally decided it was time to take on the adventure!

https://www.delish.com/cooking/recipe-ideas/a22344312/cool-ranch-zucchini-chips/

Now if you know me, you know I don’t eat zucchini. Like never ever. Like you can hand me a chocolate muffin and I’m going to say no thanks, it looks like something you’d hand to a person that doesn’t eat zucchini with zucchini stuffed in it, you sick sob.

But I also really really love cool ranch doritos.. like a lot. So I finally got desperate enough to try this. Extra love and thanks to my shipt lady for adding the ingredients to my order last minute, or this wouldn’t have been a thing.

The proof, because I know I have highly skeptical readers-

And yes, the inside of my oven is purple. No, I didn’t order it that way on purpose. Yes, it’s awesome.

And yes, I tried them personally.

I wish I didn’t have to say this part…. but yes, they were actually pretty damn good and I’m probably going to end up eating zucchini.

/sigh It’s a glad/sad day….

And, hell, maybe we never really did.

The more I try and make some kind of sense out of the horrific, mind numbing craziness that’s going on out in our world today, the more I think that the people committing these atrocities- these are people for whom a few key points must be true:

1. No one’s feelings matter but theirs.
2. They hate the world for what it is, and so
3. No one deserves to have a different experience or reality
4. Their happiness is unattainable.
5. Life isn’t fair or worth living.

In short, they never learned how to lose.

It’s not a fun lesson, or an easy one, and some of us learned it early and well. How to accept what is, take a breath, and decide how to make peace with what is and what one can do. To find beauty and purpose and meaning even when life didn’t go the way you thought it would, could, or should.

Am I what I thought I would be? Uh, no. Not even remotely… I look in the mirror and I think about what I wanted at twenty, and no, not even close. But all those nasty knocks life gave me.. I know I had to travel through that portion to get to where I am now, and without restraint I can say every piece of it, every moment was worth it. It was all those moments of fear and doubt and pain that made me who I get to be now… and I have a deep sense of faith that all the fear and doubt and pain I feel today is going to help shape who I’ll be in ten years.. and you know, I’m pretty eager to meet that person.

Here’s to all of us who are afraid and hurt today and acknowledge it as freely as we would celebrate our successes. May we never make peace with these circumstances as being unavoidable, but instead strive to find what we can do. Let us find beauty and purpose and meaning that no life that has been lost has been lost in vain.

It’s going to take a lot more than thoughts and prayers, friends. Let’s get to work.

 

 

https://www.snopes.com/fact-check/look-for-the-helpers/

In times of trouble, adults seeking to reassure inquisitive children who are aware of frightening events in the news but are too young to fully understand their import often turn to the example of Fred Rogers, the gentle and genial host who for over 30 yearsdelivered lessons on love, kindness, and friendship to children on the Public Broadcasting Service (PBS) television program Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.

The Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood section of the PBS web site offers some advice on “Helping Children Deal with Tragic Events in the News,” including the following:

During his lifetime, Fred Rogers reassuring way of helping families with difficult times, beginning with his response to Robert Kennedy’s assassination. Over the years since then, there have, unfortunately, been other tragic events during which parents and educators turned to him for his calming and thoughtful insight. Fred Rogers’ wisdom is timeless, and his messages continue to be valuable for children and the people who care for them, as we deal with the events of today’s world.

In times of community or world-wide crisis, it’s easy to assume that young children don’t know what’s going on. But one thing’s for sure, children are very sensitive to how their parents feel. They’re keenly aware of the expressions on their parents’ faces and the tone of their voices. Children sense when their parents are really worried, whether they’re watching the news or talking about it with others. No matter what children know about a crisis, it’s especially scary for them to realize that their parents are scared.

Even if we wanted to, it would be impossible to give our children all the reasons for such things as war, terrorists, abuse, murders, fires, hurricanes, and earthquakes. If they ask questions, our best answer may be to ask them, “What do you think happened?” If the answer is, “I don’t know,” then the simplest reply might be something like, “I’m sad about the news, and I’m worried. But I love you, and I’ll take care of you.”

If we don’t let children know it’s okay to feel sad and scared, they may try to hide those feelings or think something is wrong with them whenever they do feel that way. They certainly don’t need details of what’s making us sad or scared, but if we can help them accept their own feelings as natural and normal, their feelings will be much more manageable for them.

Fred Rogers often told this story about when he was a boy and would see scary things on the news: “My mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers — so many caring people in this world.”

There’s a whole lot going on right now for us… and something as simple as fetching my mail reminded me that no matter how rough things feel, my own helpers are there. I see you, and I am grateful more than I will ever be able to say to each of you for being there, for thinking of me, and for listening.

Cause if I’ve learned nothing else, it’s that Mr. Rogers is always right.

https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2019/07/30/woman-peed-produce-walmart-pennsylvania-police/1868970001/

 

Rick, with an air of smug- this is why I don’t shop at Walmart OR eat produce.

Me- laughing hysterically while sending the link to my team

Rick- But you know.. that is a kind of talent?

Me- She should be on America’s Got Talent

Rick- the Not Safe for Work Edition

Me- It’d be heckin Pay Per View, and we’d allllllllll watch that shit.

 

Followed by a lot more laughing.

Friday was a rough day, and I was in my office (where else?) sitting at my desk and contemplating what to write on the survey for the medical hell thing.

Rick, coming in and putting his arms around me- “You okay?”

Me- “I just need what everybody needs most of the time.”

Rick- “What’s that?”

Me- “To be cuddled and told that everything’s going to be okay.”

Rick- “I love you.”

Me, hitting Rick and escaping- “You don’t take direction for shit!”

Rick, laughing and recapturing- “If I did you wouldn’t love me the same way. I will give you something better, though. You are always right.”

Me, with a sniff- “It’ll do.”

 

I’m still not sure if I won that one or not….

Guys, all like five of you that routinely read or so.. I want to apologize in advance. Normally I like to keep a certain tone, lightly snarky, maybe a little funny… yeah, I can’t do that today. I’m going to say up front that I’m medically just fine, there was no news of doom or anything… but what did happen has made me hurt and afraid in a different way.

I also want to say that in no way is the worst thing to ever happen- and it’s not exactly me that I’m hurt and afraid for. I’m also going to tell it like it happened and save my reactions for the end.

Mammogram was yesterday, and the problem started from the word go. The desk lady asked why I hadn’t seen Dr. Smith as they recommended as she looked over the referral from Planned Parenthood. I wasn’t able to get an appointment, I said, and left it at that.

She hummed and hawed for a minute, then told me that the testing order was incomplete. The clinic had only ordered a mammogram, they should have also ordered an ultrasound, and could I just take this pager that works like this and a seat while they got in touch with the clinic to see what was going on? And would I be okay to pay the $145 fee for the ultrasound? It wouldn’t be covered by my insurance, you see.

That was at 7:30.

At 8:10ish, the desk lady comes and pulls me into the corridor to tell me that she has not been able to contact the clinic, did I have a different phone number for them?

Here’s where I’m not even kidding, guys. This is a direct quote.

“This might just be the number they use for abortions.”

Stunned, I said again I didn’t have a different number and wandered back to my spot in the waiting room.

At 8:30, desk lady tells me once again she’s had no luck, did I just want to pay the fee so we could get started?

Fine, sure, I have a health savings account, no problem.

Back I go, all the ogrammy piece is done, and still I’m sitting half dressed in another waiting room, with periodic reports from the tech now that they haven’t been able to find out if an ultrasound was meant to be ordered. Fine, sure, I keep waiting.

At 9:30, the tech asks if I have anywhere else to be.

Yes, I have an appointment at 11, no, I can’t sit around here anymore.

We’ll reschedule you, she says, opening the door to the main room and pointing to the chair in which I must sit. To wait.

“Can I get dressed first?” I ask, and get a less than polite reply, and no assistance with a cubicle door that refused to latch shut.

Dressed now and back into the chair to which I had been directed, the desk lady now wants to complain to me about how difficult it was to get in touch with the clinic. I’m not at all interested, and repeated that I had an appointment I needed to get to.

With lingering mutters, she handed me a card for August 9th, and I was finally free to leave.

 

It’s clear that desk lady had an attitude about Planned Parenthood, and that transferred to me for daring to go there. I have never felt more judged than I felt yesterday. I have never felt less confident in the care and advice I have received than yesterday.

And I’ve never felt more afraid for other women than I did yesterday.

Let’s face it, the petty actions of this desk lady aren’t going to stop me from pursuing the tests I need to or getting the treatment I need if it comes to that.

What about women that aren’t as blessed as I am with those financial and emotional support systems? Are they going to have the ability to keep fighting through the stupid petty bullshit? Will they be able to keep taking days off work for tests, keep wasting time and money only to meet with this kind of attitude and run around?

How many women are letting themselves die because they can’t face that kind of stupid shit?

Why the fuck does it matter to anyone where I got my breast exam? I got care I was comfortable and happy with, period… why do I have to feel the weight of your political opinions during a terrifying moment in my life? Why does anyone think that’s okay?

 

So in short.. yes, there’s a war on women when it comes to medicine. And that right there? That’s the front line of attack- the receptionist that decides that your paperwork doesn’t measure up. She’s pulling that shit on a person she has every reason to identify with and want to truly help.

But her opinions on abortion are more important and must be felt.

Is rage a condition? I think I’m coming down with it.

Hey, guys. I know we don’t talk much and that’s kind of on me. I’ll own it.

But hey, look. I’m not sure how to tell you this, but someone has to, so it might as well be me.

You’re. Doing. It. Wrong.

While I am far from being a Sweet Potato Hitler fan (thanks Titus!), he knows how to work the system. And you guys just don’t. You don’t need advertising bucks anymore, so stop trying to pick my pocket. You don’t need to race around being outrageous to score media attention or sound bytes or photo ops. Screw all that.. that’s the old way, the way that should be dead and buried, except you are all being blind and propping it up.

Stop. It.

Most of you are already in a position of power…. to get things done. Instead, how much of that power are you squandering by running around and doing the wrong things to try and work the system.

From what I see, kind of all of you. Shame! Shame! Shame!

Let me be clear. As a voter, I don’t give a damn what you’ve done. I don’t give a damn who you are. I don’t give a damn what you think you’ll try real hard to do if I elect you.

I care about the job you’re doing now.

If there was a single candidate that shut up, sat down, and got to work, then every week put out on social media exactly what they’d accomplished, I’d know that candidate was focused on the task at hand, and not on contributing to the noise.

Do the job you have well, and you’ll earn the job you want. You have the ability to speak directly to the voters, and you don’t need Old Media to do it.

If you do it right, Old Media will chase you.

Stop the noise. Start the work.

Do that, and you got my vote.

The fan belt on the cooler (we think) gave up the ghost last night, so the usual slipping off to sleep during a Star Wars movie didn’t really happen as quickly as usual.

Last night was The Last Jedi- and led to this thoughtful exchange as Kylo Ren destroyed his Mighty Duck helmet in the elevator:

 

Me- I wonder what the budget for Kylo’s temper fits look like.

Rick- Must be a lot, he acts like a damn two year old.

Me- Well, if you think about it, Vader was really no better, except that he tended to get rid of people rather than equipment.

Rick- Point… kind of an easy way to weed out stupid. If you screwed up in front of Vader, bam, all done.

Me- He was saving on overhead!

 

We have problems, we know.