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Now that I'm not working full time (well, sometimes I am. My work schedule is weird and always changing), I really want to get back into posting. I'm always writing down things I want to blog about, but do I do them? Apparently not. And that has to change. My life was turned upside down in May 2024 after losing my job, but I'm recovering from that both financially and emotionally. So I will do my best to start posting regularly on all kinds of things. Like, losing employment as a single homeowner. Finding out I have ADHD (probably why I wasn't blogging). And working in the unusual world of training AI. So, I will see you soon.
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I will christen returning to my blog on my birthday. I am 35 (shut up, those of you who know I’m not; just go with it). I like that age. If I had to be stuck at an age, like on that TV series “Highlander” where the Immortals stayed the age at which they were killed, I’d say I’d like to be stuck at 35 (can you imagine being stuck as a teen? Almost a fate worse than death).
I am actually 54. I feel I must admit this since many of you know I have an adult son, and I don’t want anyone thinking I had him when I was like 12 or something. I’ve also considered saying that I’m 70, which would elicit comments on how amazingly good I looked. But then no one my age would want to hang out with me and I’d never get a date.
So why am I such a 35-ish fan? I figure that your 20s are fun, and you’re probably as hot as you’ll ever look, but it’s still a time of figuring yourself out. Once you get into your 30s, at least for us women, you’ve gotten past all the drama of youth, you may be in a committed, mature relationship, and you likely have a real job in your career. Your 20s are for trying life on. Your 30s are for wearing it.
I am actually 54. I feel I must admit this since many of you know I have an adult son, and I don’t want anyone thinking I had him when I was like 12 or something. I’ve also considered saying that I’m 70, which would elicit comments on how amazingly good I looked. But then no one my age would want to hang out with me and I’d never get a date.
So why am I such a 35-ish fan? I figure that your 20s are fun, and you’re probably as hot as you’ll ever look, but it’s still a time of figuring yourself out. Once you get into your 30s, at least for us women, you’ve gotten past all the drama of youth, you may be in a committed, mature relationship, and you likely have a real job in your career. Your 20s are for trying life on. Your 30s are for wearing it.
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Dear anesthesiologist: When I tell you that I have a high tolerance for whatever “twilight sleep” medication you are going to give me, pay freaking attention. No, I’m not a doctor or telling you how to do your job. But this is FAR from my first rodeo, and know how my body works. Instead of assuming I don’t know what I’m talking about, note my reaction to your first push. See that I’m fully awake and probably beginning to hyperventilate, having felt the medicine go in but to no effect. So keep cranking that stuff up until I get to where I’m supposed to be. If I’m able to carry on a conversation with you, particularly one involving how I’m in pain and not at all relaxed, chances are there aren’t enough meds on board, I get it; you don’t want to OD me, but if I sound like I’m about to get up from the operating table and rip your scrotum off, I’m probably not near to an overdose. Okay?
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Crazy, but that's how it goes
Millions of people, living as foes
Maybe it's not too late
To learn how to love, and forget how to hate
Mental wounds not healing
Life's a bitter shame
I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train
I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train
Millions of people, living as foes
Maybe it's not too late
To learn how to love, and forget how to hate
Mental wounds not healing
Life's a bitter shame
I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train
I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train
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According to an article about Feng Shui, the position of my bed is screwing up my life.
Mind you, I know basically nothing about Feng Shui. I know it has to do with positioning your crap in the best possible way to bring good energy into your space. Like your potted plants have to be facing south or something (I made that up Feng Shui people, relax).
I have considered looking into it, just in case it works. Thing is, I'm no Martha Stewart. My idea of decorating is making sure the couch faces the TV and that beige really does go with everything. So rearranging my house to enhance my energy is just not on the top of the old priority list.
But I just happened across this article and found out that my bed could be causing me some life issues. First, it's next to the bedroom door which is letting all my energy suck out into the hall. I placed it there because the downstairs bathroom is like two feet away and thus even more convenient than the master commode. That's how I plan things. On the good side, I'm perpendicular to the door. If my feet were facing it, that's bad because in Ye Olde Days they dragged your dead body out feet first. That's just creepy, and again it sucks energy from your feet or something.
Mind you, I know basically nothing about Feng Shui. I know it has to do with positioning your crap in the best possible way to bring good energy into your space. Like your potted plants have to be facing south or something (I made that up Feng Shui people, relax).
I have considered looking into it, just in case it works. Thing is, I'm no Martha Stewart. My idea of decorating is making sure the couch faces the TV and that beige really does go with everything. So rearranging my house to enhance my energy is just not on the top of the old priority list.
But I just happened across this article and found out that my bed could be causing me some life issues. First, it's next to the bedroom door which is letting all my energy suck out into the hall. I placed it there because the downstairs bathroom is like two feet away and thus even more convenient than the master commode. That's how I plan things. On the good side, I'm perpendicular to the door. If my feet were facing it, that's bad because in Ye Olde Days they dragged your dead body out feet first. That's just creepy, and again it sucks energy from your feet or something.
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So, in my last post I was all excited about getting carded for buying beer.
Well, I went to dinner the other night and noticed an AARP discount had been applied to my bill. I'm not complaining, I mean, I'll take a discount any time. But I didn't ask for it or show my card or anything. I guess my age just radiated all over the restaurant.
Well, I went to dinner the other night and noticed an AARP discount had been applied to my bill. I'm not complaining, I mean, I'll take a discount any time. But I didn't ask for it or show my card or anything. I guess my age just radiated all over the restaurant.
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The other day I stopped by the store to pick up milk (which ended up as a whole cart full of crap). I also decided to buy some beer. I pretty much NEVER buy beer; I lost the taste for it back in my 20s when I drank enough to fill a small sea and gained a similar amount of weight. I now drink wine, which I'm kind of tired of.
In any case, my life has been pretty stressful lately, and I'm cutting back on going out drinking, so I thought perhaps a nice cold brewsky at the end of the day while I watched TV might perk me up.
So the cashier is ringing me up and asks for my ID. At first I"m all like, "aww, aren't you sweet." And she looks at me like, "you want this beer bitch; cough up that ID."
Since I know they just check a cutoff date (as opposed to figuring out your age), I admitted to my 51 years. I thought she'd be all, "wow, you look so young!" Or, "we have to card under 40 now." But no, she continued to look at me as if I was trying to pull something over on her.
Mind you, she was little more than a fetus. And I had no makeup on, since I was just on a quick store run. I will admit that without makeup on I do look a lot younger. I also look HIDEOUS. This is why I give up some youthfulness with a little makeup for a reduction in hideosity. (I know that's not a word; I just like it).
Hmm, I wonder what else being young-looking-but-hideous can get me...
In any case, my life has been pretty stressful lately, and I'm cutting back on going out drinking, so I thought perhaps a nice cold brewsky at the end of the day while I watched TV might perk me up.
So the cashier is ringing me up and asks for my ID. At first I"m all like, "aww, aren't you sweet." And she looks at me like, "you want this beer bitch; cough up that ID."
Since I know they just check a cutoff date (as opposed to figuring out your age), I admitted to my 51 years. I thought she'd be all, "wow, you look so young!" Or, "we have to card under 40 now." But no, she continued to look at me as if I was trying to pull something over on her.
Mind you, she was little more than a fetus. And I had no makeup on, since I was just on a quick store run. I will admit that without makeup on I do look a lot younger. I also look HIDEOUS. This is why I give up some youthfulness with a little makeup for a reduction in hideosity. (I know that's not a word; I just like it).
Hmm, I wonder what else being young-looking-but-hideous can get me...
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Okay, I'm in my home office working away (and by working, I mean cruising Facebook because I'm having a stress attack and need a break), and my cat Carter comes in and sets about meowing at me. Constantly. And loudly.
Usually this means the water bowl is empty, but I was just in the kitchen and noticed that they had plenty of water AND still a bit of the wet food they bugged the crap out of me for this morning.
He might want cuddles, but they don't ask for those; they just jump up and plop onto my keyboard, like, "I'm ready, start cuddling."
He doesn't look sick. If he were, he wouldn't be crying, he'd be puking on my favorite shoes.
As I wrote this, he stopped screeching and has moved to Plan B: sitting on my expensive keyboard as if he's scoping out a spot to pee. And licking the black keys, whatever that's about.
Okay, guess I've gotta go see what his deal is. Could be that someone unsavory is out front. Or maybe Timmy is trapped in the well. More than likely it's just that he can almost see the bottom of the food bowl.
Usually this means the water bowl is empty, but I was just in the kitchen and noticed that they had plenty of water AND still a bit of the wet food they bugged the crap out of me for this morning.
He might want cuddles, but they don't ask for those; they just jump up and plop onto my keyboard, like, "I'm ready, start cuddling."
He doesn't look sick. If he were, he wouldn't be crying, he'd be puking on my favorite shoes.
As I wrote this, he stopped screeching and has moved to Plan B: sitting on my expensive keyboard as if he's scoping out a spot to pee. And licking the black keys, whatever that's about.
Okay, guess I've gotta go see what his deal is. Could be that someone unsavory is out front. Or maybe Timmy is trapped in the well. More than likely it's just that he can almost see the bottom of the food bowl.
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That is supposed to sound like an Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt episode title…
Now that the show is live, I can write about it without fearing Tiny Fey is gonna kick my ass (although that would be kinda cool).
Now that the show is live, I can write about it without fearing Tiny Fey is gonna kick my ass (although that would be kinda cool).
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I recently became curious about the accuracy of this tradition. If a groundhog’s shadow can actually predict the weather, I wanted to know why. I came to find out that the accuracy is horrible - at least for Punxsutawny Phil, who is probably the most famous of the many groundhogs that are watched on Groundhog Day. I read he was at 39%. Um, okay, so he’s actually worse than random chance. In fact, based on those statistics, I would say maybe we should revise the whole thing and say that if he sees his shadow, we’re in for an early spring. Right?