Sorry, no real story here today folks.

Today I am having a SUPER ANXIETY day. It is a slow day and for some reason I am anxious, hyper, restless, slow to focus. UGH! I prolly could figure out some more things but for now I will stick with the big A.

Being anxious for no reason whatsoever is like trying to sell ice to an Eskimo. It makes no sense.

Yeah yeah yeah, chemical imbalance, poor diet, lack of exercise yadda yadda yadda. Okay, so there ARE some reasons, but those are reasons for a lot of things and when you feel like I do today, and someone were to come to me and spout said reasons, I would….

Well, I wouldn’t do anything but I sure would be thinking stuff in my head. I would make every excuse as to why they don’t know what they are talking about and how they have no idea how I feel and it isn’t my fault I don’t exercise or eat right I am always to anxious etc etc.  

BUT in reality, I know the score. BUT KNOWING it does not lessen my anxieties on days like today.

BUMMER!

Please enjoy the attached pic of my vehicular riding companions. I spoke about them previously. Jesus is saying “can’t we all just get along?” and Rufus is saying “yes what he said!” in a Spanish  accent.  I have NO idea why it is sideways.

Good Day, Pickles and Dinner

So Tuesday I decided to go to church and get some Jesus after work. Yeah I know he is in your heart just look for him yadda yadda…but on this day (it was a good day) I felt a need to go to his house and tell him thanks for the good day in person.

Most of you might be thinking that is no big deal and I reckon it really isn’t, but since  I have been a bump on a pickle* for so long, doing anything outside of my norm was good in and of itself. Then you take the fact I was gonna step foot in a church with no protection from lighting…well you can understand how it could feel a bit momentous for one such as myself!

Technically, I have a little Jesus. Literally. He is a bobble head in my car whose bobble broke so he just rides around with me. Well, him and a plastic representation of the naked mole rat named “Rufus” from Kim Possible (silly cartoon).

Aside from the literal, I do have a touch of the spiritual as well. I don’t go to church and I don’t read the bible and I don’t really say I know what I am talking about. I just say I know he is there. He knows I am here and I tend to circle around him from time to time deciding if I want to go up and introduce myself. He’s cool with it. I think he knows I am chicken and is just letting me get used to him.

Anyway, I checked on my phone the dates and times for Mass ( I was raised Catholic and I like St. Patricks). I get there trying to find a place to park because the normal place was closed off. I get parked and am in the back so I don’t know how to get to the church part (there is a school as well). I finally ask someone and they point me in the right direction. I get to the door and WHAT???? It is locked. I find the same person who tells me there is no mass that day. BUMMER!

BUT long story longer…I tried. I could have just told the Ole Boy thanks in my head and let it go, but I had a good day and I felt like making the effort to go tell him in person. Well, okay in church where I can’t see him but it is his house etc.

It is really kind of funny. I have been stepping around him, my life etc so much lately and I FINALLY make the effort and NO MASS!! In other things I may have felt gloomy, but to me this was just funny. I mean it really tickled me.

It isn’t all about me ( I know right? SHOCKER). I can’t always have things my way when I want them. I KNOW that, but this was church for goodness sakes. I am supposed to get an epiphany and fill up with the ‘Word of the Lord” and my life will suddenly be better etc etc.

I know that stuff happens for folks and I promise you I am not sad, dejected, or thinking that can’t all still happen to me.

I just feel like God was saying to me “GOTCHA!! You need to work a little harder. I am here and I will help but you have to be sure and get your boohonkus in gear too!” I think he has sense of humor! He would have to to put up with me and all my Shenanigans.

I know all of this sounds weird and some folks may have apoplexy for me calling him “Ole Boy”, but really do you he think cares? I don’t.

Besides the night wasn’t a total bust, my neighbor made homemade chicken enchiladas and saved me two.

*Bumps on pickles don't do anything...they are just there.

Tonight is the night I ............

babysit an almost one year old.

Understand I LOVE me some chillren’s and I especially love this one!  I have several friends with kids. And as I just had a birthday, so have they. My little baby punkadoodles are now teenage punkadoodles who need their Apey to encourage them, teach them, love them, and snatch them up ‘iffin the opportunity arises. I think the youngest may be 12 now? Not so little.

Anyway, back to baby Ollie tonight. It is just me and her!!

I got to hold her the day she was born and no bigger than a good sized breakfast burrito (she was wrapped like one). Now she is almost a year and isn’t quite so tiny. She is not big mind you. I am. I am outta of shape and getting older so her stamina and mine are vastly different.

As it stands, I occasionally watch her on Wednesday nights when Mom and Dad run/play doge ball (you can check out memphisdodgeball.com) at the Y where they play. I used to play but now they use the competitive rubber balls that HURT, and while I may appear like a linebacker, I am truly a delicate flower.  

I digress….what I was going to say is after a night (few hours) the next morning my arms hurt like I have been lifting weights. But it so worth it. I get to hug her and squish her and call he George!! (okay maybe that reference isn’t for everyone). But I do get to squish on a baby! She is just so fun! She LOVES digging everything out of my purse and ya know what? I soooo let her. When she gets older she is really gonna know how to work me. Well, most of my friends kids do but that is OKAY. That is why I am APEY!!

So back tonight, it will be just me and her…..dun dun dun….I think she will have me pure tuckered out by night’s end. I think by the end it we will be ME sleeping like a baby. But it will be worth it! Kids always have the power to charge my happy meter. For some reason life’s downs don’t feel so down when you have a bright faced, little young in looking at you with not but two teeth in her head!! Or when she sneezes and you mimick it and then she does it back.

Call me a big marshmallow but it doesn’t get any better than that!

Wish me luck!  

Yesterday was my b-day. I am officially 39 years of age. 5’2” in height, $!@#* in weight, with blondish hair and hazel (green there is some debate) eyes. 39 feels like 38 but closer to 40 and less close to 20. Mentally I feel late 20’s /early 30’s. Physically I am probably in my 50’s. So I reckon if you average it all I am right at 39.

I hear when I get to be forty things go downhill. I sure as heck hope not. Me being on the roundish side might be I am in for a bumpy ride! It only takes a push!

Anyways, yesterday was not to eventful. Quiet day at home with a lunch break. Plenty of reading, and lots of facebook well wishers! All in all ...pretty decent.

I don’t know if it is my circumstance or age but these days b-days are just days. Deep down, I still want to be the kid who gets to wear the paper crown at the ice-cream parlor and gets a new Barbie, some ugly sweater for my grams and some candy that sparkles and looks like fairy dust. Or some pink candy and some real fairy dust.

But alas, those days are gone and a new era of grown up, uneventful yet peaceful days that celebrate my birth are what are left. Not so bad if you think about it. Actually having another day to be alive sounds like a darn good present to me!

So there you have it! Another day, another year, another opportunity to move forward! I hate that beeping sound when I back up!

Gettin' my morose on.....

I think negative thoughts and feelings make people fat.

 In my case it prolly also comes from beer, Mexican food, fried food, salty food, cheese, beer, salty cheesy Mexican food, no excersize…okay I think you get it! But I think being negative does it too.

Uhm yeah I get how attitudes can make people be emotional eaters blah blah blah. Yeah I know. I have gone to therapy and don’t need any of you folks trying to therapize me more. And YES I said therapize. I might use a few more made up words later. Anways, back to what I was saying….negative, icky feelings make can make people fat.

You ever feel down? Ever have anxieties that cause you to panic looking for a way to hold onto your sanity because you know if you don’t, you won’t make it home? Ever feel insecure or inadequate? Ever feel like you are just walking around in a daze or living in a haze and that people around you see you clearly…they think…but you know you are in an invisible box filled with self destruction and despair? That all makes me feel bloated. Bloated and icky and filled up with all the wrong things. Heavy things. It makes me fat.

I am not a shy person and to be truthful, I am also not the most private when it comes to myself. If you have read any of my blog I really only clam up when what I want to say involves someone else. That is getting harder and harder to do. Sometimes people in your life can make you fat. They can fill you with unease, mistrust, dislike and upset. Sometimes they do it on purpose I think, other times I think that not everyone thinks about their actions.

It may feel like saying everything you want to say to the person hurting you will help you shed a few pounds, but that just isn’t so. Sometimes that can make you even fatter. When things don’t happen the way you expected, the person you are trying to talk to doesn’t get your point or doesn’t really care, you can get filled with anger, resentment and regrets that just make you fatter.

Guilt does a pretty big one on the body too. It basically adds enough weight you feel like you have been shackled to cement blocks and thrown in the river. Fat basically floats, but when you get too heavy you just feel like you are drowning. You can’t breathe and you feel like your lungs are going to burst. You feel constricted and helpless.

Damn I need to cut out Mexican food.

It seems as though all manner of folk are on a hiatus in blogsville.

To be honest, I don’t get to read them all the time anyway. I am not “supposed” to at work, and at home my computer may or may not decide to link to the outside world. If I try to read them on my phone, well….let’s just say I would like to keep my phone for a time and I am making choices that will prevent me from throwing such a “fine” (using that word lightly) contraption across the room.

Anyways, I haven’t written much myself. Haven’t had anything to say really. Well, I did that one time a few weeks back but deleted it because it could be considered disparaging. While I was pretty dang riled when I wrote it, it came back to what I have been saying all along and that is that I don’t wanna write something about someone else that could be hurtful.

I tried to be as non committal as possible and even went as far as not saying who it was, how they were related, or if it was a male or female. Of course, if any of those who know me read it, they would  know the deal. I said nice…ish things too and was open about myself and why I was peeved, but it is gone now (not the peeved part, just the blog).

Needless to say I do have a person who has been getting on my last nerve in every conceivable manner, but heck, don’t most of us have a person like that we know or have known?

I would venture to say (many times) I am prolly that person to someone else. But if that is the case they can write it on their blog.

In this circumstance, I have verbalized my thoughts and impressions to this person. I have been nice, I mean super nice, firm, and then pretty dang direct. NOTHING…NAUGHTA, THERE IS NO LIGHT ON…….

I can’t seem to bring myself to the point of being flat out, no holds barred, up in their face. To me, no matter the words and how you say them, it can still be cruel. Sometimes no matter what you say and how you say it, the other person won’t always get it (my dad taught me that). Frankly, I wouldn’t want to hear them from someone else. It has happened in my lifetime and I didn’t like it.

I would tell my dad “I didn’t care. I was gonna say what I had to say because dang it that person should KNOW. AND, how are they gonna if someone doesn’t let them have it, AND it would make me feel better!!! HMPHHH!” That’s what I told him. My dad would just shake his head and tell me that things didn’t always work that way and why waste your breath, time energy etc. when sometimes there were people and things in life you really couldn’t change. I see it more now. Not sure I believe it completely yet, but my need to “say it like it is” has lessened a bit over the years. I may say it to my close friends or family to get it out, but not just to everybody just because I can.

Anyways, in this case I will endure. People endure worse. I can endure one person.

OR…OR I may just go Ninja on their a……………………..! I am just sayin!

Sorry Folks

I have been reading some blogs but for some reason have not been able to leave comments. I can't at work and at home I am having trouble getting online! I hope to read and comment soon!

See below to get your award!

As Miss JJ was so kind to give me an award, she went even a step further and alleviated my angst for not knowing the proper way to handle such a prestigious award!!

And don’t say it like "pressteejusss” say it like “pres- ti-juss” it sounds more fancy that way!! J

So seven things about myself…or as Miss JJ and Miss Houston would say “meself!”

I like the “Goth” look and wish I was cool enough to pull it off. Although my personality is far from morose (at least that is what my therapist says! HA).

I love a good brewsky…oh sorry…scratch that…I think this is supposed to be seven things people DON’T know!

I like cucumber water (it tastes dainty, if water can taste dainty).

I always wanted a pet alligator (but not so much since I watched Larry the Cable Guy on “Only In America” try to catch one..scary, but funny too!)

Sometimes I cry when I am at an event involving music, dance or basically “the arts” because I am so overwhelmed with happiness (don’t laugh it is true!)

I like the tennis shoes kids wear that light up and feel certain I would wear them if they were in my size (I didn’t say it was right, just sayin’).

I like to use the phrase “spider monkey.” EX: I need to get my “spider monkeys” waxed (eyebrows).

And lastly, one time I was dancing in the living room by myself and thought I would do a leg kick. A second later I was ten toes up and on the floor wondering how I got there and why it felt like I had gorilla sitting on my chest (look out Dancing With The Stars!)

Okay, so now I get to give this stupendous award to some folks who deserve it. I am gonna state right now that I of course would send one to Mr. V, Miss Houston, Miss JJ, Miss Patsy, Miss Cecile, Miss Elaine, and Mr. Cheyenne, Oscar, Miss Bernie, Brandi, Miss Valerie and so on and so forth. You all deserve it and then some, but I have just recently started venturing out and reading a few more so I want to give “props” to some other folks as well!

So drum roll please……………………..

1.       C... for yourself what I mean!

2.       Rhonda because no one wants to go insane by themselves!

3.       Carrie because I like the word Plethora!

4.       Miss Sweet because her Saturday Serials keep me hangin’! ( I hope that is not what   happens to GUS).

5.       Okay,  Mr. V anyway cuz I just love’em!

6.       Rebecccccca because I think she possibly has her own tunnel! It's random I know!

7.       Sy because she is without question, inquistive!

So there you have it! Thanks again Miss JJ! And congrats all!!

Sorry I got so wordy! I was really excited about my award!

Shut the front door!!!!

Look it! Look it! Look at what Miss JJ gave me!! How awesome is that? I say waaaaaaay! This is my very first blogger award! I think there is supposed to be a protocol of some sort, but I have never quite figured out what it is. Do you make your own? Do ask questions? Do you send it a certain number of people, do you do what the person who gave it to you did? Huh??? I just don't know. What I do know is that....YIPEE...LOOK AT ME.... I got a cool award from Miss JJ!

Thank you Miss JJ! You TOTALLY made my day!!

Future Focused

A good friend of mine recently sent me a letter.

We talk on occasion, laugh whenever possible, and hope the best for each other always.

When I got her letter I wasn’t sure what it was. When I opened it, it was typed and I was thinking hmmmm??? What is it?

I don’t think I had ever gotten a letter from her. Maybe a card but not a bonafide, “let me sit down and think on this for a bit” letter…..

I started to read and from the first sentence it was upbeat, positive and basically outlined a really great thing that happened in her life recently. This great and wonderful thing started with a letter written by a patient’s husband, sent to her work and thanking the staff and her specifically. After some reflection on her part, she came to a few conclusions. That letter made her feel good. It made her feel appreciated and it gave her a boost in just the right way.

She thought that if a letter could make her feel so dang warm and fuzzy, why not send letters to some people who she felt made a difference in her life some way…hence, my letter. My friend told me how she felt about me. She said I made a difference to her by how I lived. She said I had a good heart and a beautiful spirit. She thanked me. SHE THANKED ME. This person, who I feel is the epitome of strength. A person I feel truly puts herself before others. A friend who has always made me feel loved and cared for. This friend THANKED ME for making a difference in her life?

I am not sure if any of you really know how that feels. I am not really a descriptive kinda gal unless I am detailing the perils of having the Panama Canal engraved on my uterus or maybe when I talk about my disdain for exercise. I know I have verbally described and discussed my love of paranormal hanky panky books, but this happy, giddy, blessed feeling? I guess it is akin to the color pink, bedazzled with sparkles, that smells like vanilla, makes you look thinner and has the ability to form into any accessory a girl may need.

Does that describe it? It feels good.

In her letter were three bracelets that said “I make a difference!” One was for me to keep and two were for me to pass them on to others. I haven’t done that yet. I am not sure of my reluctance other than I procrastinate like a…..like a…..well… a procrastinator. But I plan to send them on soon.

In the meantime, I wanted to thank you for being who you are.

Well Apey who are you talking to? I am talking to YOU. AND YOU…AND YOU.  ALL OF YOU.

There isn’t one of you who hasn’t touched my life in some way and you should know it. I am thanking you, because you deserve to know that the parts of you that make you YOU are important. They make a difference.

I hope throughout my life I get to tell you all individually like my friend did for me. In this case, I didn't want to wait another minute to let you know... YOU make a difference.

Would you like some cheese with that Whine?

So…. my anxieties have been off the charts lately.

I would have said it couldn’t be panic attacks because I thought with those, you feel death is imminent. I merely feel a good maiming coming on! Come to find out that is only one symptom. There is some list the docs use and you only have to have four of them. I have seven.

Ya know I had these a couple of years ago. They didn’t call them panic attacks then. It was just anxiety disorder of some kind. Now I have “attacks”.

Sounds weird when I say it out loud. I mean I don’t think I am weird for having them. I can’t help it. But, writing or talking it about makes it seem somehow taboo. Like you don’t talk about your crazy aunt Lula who “went away” because no one outside the family is supposed to know she exists.

What is for sure weird is that I feel weird about talking about it. I am not shy and generally don’t get embarrassed even at time I really should. I am missing one of those “filters” I guess you call it. That,  or I have just learned over the years to laugh at myself.

Anyway, there is stuff I can do myself to help it. Exercise, eating right, no beer, no caffeine (or little, I think caffeine is in everything now). I just need to do regular everyday normal stuff that would simplify and make my whole life better overall. Not  just with the anxieties. And I don’t do them because?

Lazy, comes to mind. And unwillingness to cook, might be another. A complete and utter lack of willpower on the everlasting journey to exercise heaven? Yeah…maybe there are a bunch of things.

OKAY…FINE….THERE ARE A BUNCH OF THINGS. SHEESH. At least I am admitting it.

DANG…throw some stones while you’re at it! Remember to duck!

Actually my inability to follow through with my health is all on me and I know it. I just wanted to act indignant for a second!

Repeat

There are so many times I start to write something and then stop. I am always rambling about something (in my everyday life) and the majority of the time I sound like a doofus.

 I stutter on occasion. I am not a stutterer per say, but on occasion my mind and mouth aren’t on the same timing (almost like an old Japanese film dubbed in English). Then we have the fact that sometimes my mouth opens and spits stuff out before my mind really had time to think it through. I guess that would also be a case of timing.

At times, I think I am witty and smart, and then at others I feel completely lost, out of my element and annoyingly insecure. Mostly, I just don’t know what I think.

So, when I finally sit down to write something and get it out or express myself, the above issues take over. You may not think a person can stutter when they type, but believe you me, I edit these things a jillion times. If I didn’t, you would know exactly what I mean.

And as I have said in other ramblings on this blog, a lot of what I want to say…I won’t. If this was completely anonymous and no one could ever find out it was me, then well…I MIGHT. But even then things somehow seem to come around and bite folks in the boodonkydonk.

Keep in mind that it isn’t as though I have some dark and twisted secret I need to tell about myself or any of you. But there are things you would know. A situation that involved you, or work, or gosh knows what.

I am not all that private with my every day, poppin’ off at the mouth self.  But sure has sheeting (not the word I am actually thinking)  I write it here, and all manner of things start breaking loose. It’s not what I would say really, just my luck.

You know how many times people say (myself included) don’t tell anyone? Okay!

I won’t tell you he said she was….or that my dad……or that I……or that she said…..or that I think………..

Didn't feel like continuing my trip to Bohemian Paradise just yet.....have other junk on my mind.

How do you know if what you are feeling is guilt? Anxiety? Or just plain regret?

Guilt is basically self-reproach for a supposed inadequacy or wrongdoing. Anxiety is a state of uneasiness and apprehension. Regret is to feel sorry, disappointed, or distressed about something. Or to remember something with a feeling of loss or sorrow.

They sound seemingly alike to me. I think more often than not, I am feeling them all simultaneously, making it difficult to discern the difference.

When I wake up in the middle of the night, I am often anxious as all get out.

I am short of breath, there are knots in my stomach, I get physically warm and toss and turn on the bed. My mind then starts to run through a series of events to determine why I am feeling this way. For example I may remember behaving badly with Cliff when were married. I feel guilty about my behavior, embarrassed even. I then immediately feel sorrow that I hurt him and regret that I can’t change the past. So back to feeling apprehensive.

I may have made a comment that, at the time, I thought was innocuous. BUT after some thought, realize that while I may have thought that, perhaps the person on the receiving end did not. It is too late to call them and I am at once worried that I may have been ugly to someone (albeit by accident).  The cycle starts again.

There have even been times when I just couldn’t figure out any of the feelings…I just had them.

AND YES, I know all about the medications they have for this!! J Unless it is medication that puts you in a coma, I think using some sort of thought process is an appropriate way to help begin progress

Anyway, if I have done something wrong…I have NO trouble making amends. Sometimes, what I have perceived to be a wrong, was in my own head. I guess my real reason for asking, is to find out how to make amends with oneself and not let guilt, anxiety or regret overpower me. They are unproductive, sleep depriving, and unfortunately for me… NOT weight reducing. 

Is it a mantra that does it? Do I just tell myself over and over that the past is the past and there is nothing I can do about it now and eventually it will stop?

Can I use these feelings and turn thm into some sort of catalyst for change? I am pretty sure I can. I jus need an attitude adjustment.

Yeah I think attitude has a lot to do with things. I need to get a positive one. To bad you can't just pick them up at the gorcery!!

Bohemian Rhapsody

As I walked up to the “cruise ship” I couldn’t help but think to myself that it looked a lot like a battleship painted to look festive. Or a ginormous ferry boat that had a bar. I can’t be certain about either, but I do know for certain I was skeert!

My idea of a cruise ship was more along the lines of the Love Boat back on TV in the day. Hell, I’ll even say the boat in the movie Titanic. I know it sank but it looked pretty posh!

There were no deck chairs lined up along the sides of the many decks, or shuffleboard, or continuous buffets, or drinks with fancy straws. You got one deck that had a layer or two in the back with deck chairs, drinks that came in tiny plastic cups and a breakfast buffet….yes it was called a BUFFET…that was little more than a continental breakfast at Motel 6.

Not complaining…stating fact….I am still in good spirits though!

Okay, part of me wanted to go home, but I stuck it out!! Of course being miles away from home and all you can see in any direction is water and more water, my choices were limited….but I did remain on the boat.

The boat, ferry, ship, death contraption did get us (me and my friend Debra Jo) to our destination in the Bahamas. The trip there was very windy, very rocky and by far to non-alcoholic.

Once there, we debark, get our bags and prepare for the fun to begin.

I am getting super excited at this point and then our “bus” arrives to take us to our hotel. It was more like a small travel van that, and, if crammed to capacity, will hold 8-12 people, but they called it a bus so I called it a bus. Once we are situated AND fully crammed on the “bus”,  off we go.

Now, have you ever  seen a movie or television show with people in some far off country where transportation is limited, the roads are dirt, and a variety of folks are taking a bus to the next town? They are depicted as having 37 people aboard, a crying baby, one American, someone holding a chicken and a goat in middle of the isle? Maybe even someone selling some sort of cooked potato dish or curried snake gut?

I was that one American!! Okay that is not quite the truth…I may have embellished. There were only twelve people, no goat, no chicken, no baby and there were several American’s…. okay, so my imagination, when replayed, thought it remembered that… okay so it felt kinda like that…okay FINE, it could have been like that…well…it could.

Anyway, on to the hotel….

Contest! Contest!!

Check it out! You can win a signed copy of Kristina McMorris's new book Letter From Home! AND get to take a lookee loo over at Hawk's place! Win win!! Just click on the pic below! Good Luck!

Valentine’s Day, Shmallon Times Day!

I am really not one of those people who really thinks about the holidays. They come and they go. Well,  I think about them,  but I don’t really DO anything on them.

Once upon a time, I thought every holiday was special and that everyone should always get little “happys” on each of the holidays.

Valentines, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, Christmas etc.

NO,  it was not the overabundance of marketing geared toward gullible shmucks like myself.

It started when I was a kid and lived with my grandparents. Between my mom and my grandparents they made holidays special. It might have been decorations, or cookies, or a little gift of candy or even a gift basket filled with toys,  it could have been anything, big or small.

When I was super young, I knew enough to associate hearts and red with Valentine’s day, green and leprechauns with St. Pats and a bunny, eggs and a basket with Easter. Christmas was Santa and the manger set my grandparents put up every year with a paper star my grandpa made for the tree.

As I grew older I began to understand the meaning of the holidays. Christmas, of course being about Christ’s birth, not the baby doll I wanted. Hey… I was a kid and I was all about some presents. Sad…but true.

As I grew into adulthood I still thought these days were supposed to be special. BUT, I no longer lived with gram and gramps (they are now no longer living), my mom moved to another state, and I was all on my lonesome.

So, it became the boyfriends (pick a boyfriend any boyfriend) job. And NO,  I didn’t tell him,  HE SHOULD JUST KNOW! Surprisingly, said boyfriends where not as aware of these holiday traditions as I had hoped. So I had many a spoiled brat occasions (even if just in my head) thinking he was wrong and OBVIOUSLY didn’t like me or think about me because he didn’t know my lifelong need to be acknowledged on the holidays.

It also became apparent that I couldn’t actually afford to give every friend I had a gift bag on Valentines or an Easter basket every Easter. You see, even though I had my own delusions of needing to be recognized in some way on these various holiday’s, I thought everyone else should be too!

Let’s skip ahead to being married and ultimately divorced. Throughout a marriage a person hopefully learns a great deal, about themselves and life in general. Many don’t, but I think I was one of the lucky ones. I learned that just because I didn’t get roses, it didn’t mean he didn’t love me (sometimes bills come first).  I learned that an anniversary card made of macaroni is as priceless as a diamond. Well… I learned a lot of things, and frankly I am embarrassed by my behavior during some of the times these learning opportunities took place.

My whole point, is that the holidays aren’t about the stuff anymore. They mean something different to each of us. For me they are often just another day. Not because I am single and don’t have someone to share them with, but because those days are not the only days that are worth something.  

I don’t need Valentine’s day to know I am special or let someone else I care about know that they are.

SAID LIKE A TRUE SINGLE WOMEN WITH NO MAN!!! HA!

Happy Valentine’s day everybody!

My trip to the Gyneologist

Or is that Gynographer?

Oh yes, I got it right. The man was either mining for diamonds or digging to China. As it were, I think he only succeeded in making me feel like he was removing my uterus through my belly button or there abouts.

***Shudder***

Ya see, I have had some lady part issues and decided it was time to go see the doc. Now normally,  I see a female doctor who is the size of a peanut. You may ask what difference her size makes, and I will emphatically tell you “a great deal!”

SIZE MATTERS!!!

Going to the “lady parts” doctor is uncomfortable at best and as previously noted, “uterus through belly button” agonizingly painful at worst. It is embarrassing, and frankly, just downright unpleasant.

If you don’t know or have never been, there is a portion of your visit where the doctor does a physical exam with their hands to “feel” and make sure your lady parts are where they should be. More often than not, I have found during this time, that they are actually trying reach my sternum through my nether regions. All of the docs I have seen, insist they do no such thing, but I beg to differ.

Okay, so you can probably deduce why size is a factor. The bigger the doc, the bigger the hands. Men, as rule, have bigger hands. In the boudoir,  fingers the size of sausages might result in a pleasant transaction between two consenting adults. When those fingers are used as tools, or rather in my case, instruments of doom, then…well….hopefully you can see the reasoning I have for preferring a female doc.

Not to mention, a female doc would NEVER tell another female that “your just gonna feel a little cramping and a pinch” because she KNOWS that the biopsy she is about to perform hurts only second in pain to a limb amputation without anesthesia. She KNOWS.

On the other hand (no pun intended), a male doctor asks if you have a low pain threshold. SAY WHAT?

How is it that HE is trying to DIG a miniature replica of the Panama Canal inside my lady parts and I have a LOW pain threshold? Me thinks not!

In any case, let’s hope for the best!

side note: my doc was actually very nice with an excellent bedside manner, but I would be remiss if I did not say I  wanted to rips his face off during my biopsy.

I am at work right now and just about getting ready to leave for the day. A minute ago I got up and put some paper in the printer and then stepped over to the window to look outside.

I am on the second floor of my building and my windows look out over the branches of tree and across the street to an open space with construction materials and buildings.

That open space used to be the hospital I was born in. They imploded several years ago, but I still remember it’s presence. There actually used to be a walkway over the street from the hospital to my office building.

Anyway, that isn’t why I started this.

I looked out the window and I noticed a man walking down the sidewalk. He was tall, thin and barely clothed. It is freezing outside. He was wearing jeans a shirt and a light tan jacket with a ball cap on his head, carrying an umbrella that look like it had seen better days. He himself appeared unkempt. He had a pronounced limp. Not the kind of limp you would associate with an accident, but more the kind of limp that would make you think of a handicap person. I don’t know what that means really. I guess he looked as if he had special needs? Is that the politically correct way to say it?

Again, not my point.

My point is that watching him made heart hurt. He made me want to cry. For all I know he  had been working at the construction site across the street and forgot his heavy coat. He was probably walking to his car that was parked in the parking garage to the left of my building. But I don’t think so. I am warm, I have a coat, a car, a home, and he was limping down the street in barely a thing to go where? To eat what? To get warm how?

UGGGHHHH……and life has me down?