... and, par for the course, I'm already behind.
I was going to write more - which I have. On this blog - which I haven't. But, since one of my NY goals is to stop beating myself up for things I've not done, I'm going to celebrate what I HAVE done.
This week I stripped a bunch of wire for trees, painted a bunch of bases for trees, cut, polished and drilled twelve pieces of glass for swings, made two new trees and messed about with four more that - depending on how I feel next time I look at them - may or may not be finished. I've actually managed to do a bit of meditation each morning that has been 'enhanced' by the dogs. I've also started a few writing projects, messed about with a few others and thought 'deeply' about a few others. AND, I've read three trashy novels and cleaned up after Joe's disastrous 'poop is dangling from my butt so I must run as fast as I can so it can't get me' episode IN THE HOUSE.
So. Yay, me!
Below is proof of forward movement on trees. Maybe next week I'll post more but for now, celebrating this little thing.
Whelp, 2017 was a rough year, filled with icky, stupid people making horrible, hideous choices that have and continue to affect us all… but I don’t want to focus on that. Today is my birthday so focusing on good things that happened to me this year. Sadly, I’m a hacking, sniffing, coughing mess so stopping at six(ish) good(ish) things and then heading back to bed. Age ain’t nothing but a number until you can’t breathe without coughing, swallow without pain and your nose is as red as Rudolph’s….
1. I started the year walking. Considering the boxer broke my ankle in three places and I have a plate and eight screws, I think this is a major achievement. Now I can tell when the weather is below 70degrees and sometimes walk like a drunken pirate but I am walking. Apparently, my right side is now a hair shorter than the left but that adds to the pirate-like aesthetic. I’m still considering getting tattoos on the scars. No idea what kind of art I’d get, the scars are pretty nasty… But since my last one had to be done twice and – and this is a thing – the screws in my ankle might WORK THEIR WAY OUT (!!!) - I might wait on the tattoo.
2. I’m still married. YAY!!! Considering we’ve been without a master bathroom and closet since the end of September, this is a big deal. Sharing a bathroom with someone who doesn’t share the same views about toothpaste in the sink is hard! Somehow, how he chooses to use the toothpaste or leave the toothpaste is not as tragic when there’s a second bathroom to escape too. Not to mention trying to find your clothes in the mess that is a pile on the guestroom bed can be a challenge. It’s a good thing he’s funny. It’s also a good thing he’s talented with a saw and paint. If it weren’t for his abilities, we’d still be in the 1960’s pink moldy bathroom, fighting over the sink. If it weren’t for his abilities, we’d still be in California and not in Nashville. Pretty much everything is his fault – good and bad.
3. We still have three dogs. This is a major thing (see above) because I’m pretty sure they keep trying to kill me. Joseph, the boxer – again – pulled me over and bounced my face off the sidewalk, Pepper constantly stands behind me and tries to trip me up and Tigger the Dog is actively trying to push me down the stairs. So far they have not been successful but they are ever hopeful. Joking aside, it astonishes me how many folks have asked if we’ve gotten rid of Joe. I never know how to respond to that. He’s a pain, has caused me pain, has covered the house in drool but he’s ours. Our dog. Our family. If your child is annoying or wrecks the car or gets bad grades, do you give them away? It’s nutty to think that people would think we’d do that. Broken ankle and face aside, he’s a good dog.
4. I quit social media. First I limited my time sucking each day, found that wasn’t as productive as I’d hoped so I quit. Cold.
And lasted twelve days. Twelve days without Facebook or Instagram or Twitter.... I wish I could tell you I spent my time in a much better way than scrolling through folk’s pages, judging them or judging myself but, nope. Most of those twelve days, when I wasn’t reading trashy books with happy endings, were spent loudly proclaiming to all who stood near me how awesome I was that I wasn’t on social media. The rest of the time was trying to figure out how to get information for folks who were on social media so that I could stalk their lives.
5. I lost 14 pounds. I’m hoping this lose is more permanent than my social media vacation. I’m pretty sure the weight loss started because I spent the first few days of the year lying on the bathroom floor since our 2016 New Year’s Eve was a lot more liquid than it should be for our age. My doctor was very proud of my weight loss. My cardiologist though, was only slightly impressed. I was just sad that he wasn’t as cute as I thought he was two years ago. Apparently my standards for heart health have changed. I’d like the guy feeling me up to be good looking enough to affect my heart rate. I realize that this is counterintuitive but it must be that I’m lightheaded from the lack of sugar in my diet.
6. Finally, I am still creating trees, albeit slowly and only when the mood strikes me. I am still writing, albeit slowly and only when the mood strikes me. I am still trying to manage my social media addiction albeit slowly and only when the mood strikes me. And I am still working on seeing the silver lining in every dark corner…
As the Lakota medicine man I met last Thursday told me, the year has been full of lessons. I hope I am able to take these lessons and grow forward. Heck, I hope we all are able to grow forward - especially the stupid icky people.
Be well. Be happy. Be healthy. Be joy.
So – I took a social media break for August because my social life was more virtual than physical. Also because August is, according to Brother, when I go crazy. I thought going social media free would be a step in the right direction to living a better, more creative life.
And, for the most part, it was. I remembered that my free time used to be spent reading books and not down the time suck of someone else’s awesome or not so awesome life. And yes, I realize that reading is a time suck of a different kind but it felt a healthier choice for my soul.
Of course - because whoever is running things has a wicked sense of humor - it got interesting on day one of my self-imposed break; the allergist thought that my massive hives attack in July was likely due to alpha-gal, otherwise known as a meat allergy due to a bite from the Lone Star Tick.
Seriously. That is a thing, a meat allergy to anything with a hoof.
Sooooo, I go on a social media break and I can’t talk about being possibly allergic to meat. And that, if I were to test positive for alpha-gal, I would need to carry an EpiPen in case of an allergic attack because of accidental meat contact.
Seriously! An EpiPen in case the knife that cuts my turkey meat first cut roast beef and the roast beef meat juice cooties got on my turkey meat and I swelled up like an itchy balloon...
Welp, turned out I am not allergic to meat. (PHEW!!!) Or Penicillin. (DOUBLE PHEW!!!) My hives were due to an autoimmune issue. (WHAT???) But the allergist only covers allergies so, not his department. What’s wrong with me is still a mystery…
Unless you ask Brother, because he’s sure it is because it’s August.
And that was week one of August; ticks, meat allergies and an unknown autoimmune issue.
Of course, the rest of the month was just as random – I had a fascinating conversation with transgender country songwriter in short shorts, with a bad wig, an NFL ex-husband and major delusions. A mom I know was killed by logging truck, while jogging and now her 5yr old has to navigate life without her. I was cast in my forth ‘of color’ role ever. My Father-in-law is visiting. Again. A kitten decided the under carriage of Husband’s SUV was a perfect place to live. It took him two days to get it out from under the SUV, two days to get it out from under his sports car, one to get it adopted before we got our cat pee smelling garage back - just in time for yesterday’s tornado warnings, flash floods and my near drowning on my way home in the Smart Car because the roads were mostly rivers...
Turns out a social media free August was as random as my life often can be, just not as creative as I’d hoped. September, you must do better. Life is too short for anything less.
So. Social Media and I have been not getting along. You know, the usual issues - I have more than a slight addiction and it has become a problematic depressive mess. I’ve lost many an hour to scrolling and snarking and guilt. And no matter how much I scream, it’s still mean and hate filled and sad with an occasional cute puppy or feel good story. And that means my moods can and will and have been shifting on a single post or comment or fact – or alternative fact …
Aaaaaand just writing that raised my blood pressure and got my heart thumping out of whack…
So. I gave myself a Social Media vacation - with parameters. 1) I gave myself permission to post Facebook birthdays. Because, regardless of it’s many, many issues, having a Facebook birthday is a beautiful torrent of love and happiness. And 2) I would respond to Messages. Because some of my favorite people live in a different time zone and Messaging is better than a 5am text. Other than those two caveats, I was on a Social Media vacation.
I even stopped blogging because of the Social Media sucking in that happened after each post. And honestly, I really had nothing good to say. Or rather, I had some good things to say that would somehow morph into a rant that went something like “What the $%#$%#$ is/are he/she/they thinking?!?!?!?”
Which, you can guess, is not good for my wonky heart and PTSD dogs. See blood pressure comment above.
Hence, a Social Media vacation... which mostly worked… until, I joined Instagram.
I know – what??? Well, full confession, I joined Instagram to stalk someone who has apparently lost their freaking mind and was supposedly posting pictures of their stupid choices for all the world to see. Yeah, I know. I have an iffy moral compass. But seriously, this person has lost their mother-loving mind! Like they have - “What the hell is going on, girlfriend. Do I need to slap some sense into you” - LOST. THEIR. MIND.
Ironically, it turned out this person’s page was private and I couldn’t scroll through their pictures and posts and judge their life away. Damn it.
So. There I was with a new Social Media account when I wasn’t supposed to be looking at Social Media and a sudden influx of people following me. Not that I'd posted a thing. At one point, I had 66 followers on an Instagram page I’d started to stalk someone else. Ironic, right?
The pressure to make my first post witty and charming and poignant and deep grew. And grew. And grew. Meanwhile, the world was/is falling apart and people were/are mean and all this hate has made my world feel as unsafe as it was when I was a small mixed race child in an almost all black family attending almost all white school in Kenya. Suddenly a first post on a social media account wasn’t as important or deep as it seemed, as it should be…
And yet, our freaking world is being driven crazy by stupid Social Media posts right now – WHICH IS WHY I GOT OFF SOCIAL MEDIA IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!!
ARG!!!!!!!! I thought I was off this stupid roller coaster but apparently I'm not.
So. I couldn’t come up with a single thing to say on my personal Instagram page so I created one for iamwhaleshark and just started posting pictures of a trees I made when I was trying to not listen to things that make my brain hurt. It’s not deep or life changing but there you go.
Life is sometimes the things you do while you’re trying not to cry. Or scream. Or runaway.
Inhale. Exhale. Whaleshark.
I was meant to post this on New Years Day. But I made some seriously bad choices on New Years Eve and lost two days to recovery and self name-calling. Then the rest of my good intentions got in the way and here I am - Day 6 - still eating badly, still making bad choices but finally posting this blurt. I did say that do-overs are part of life, right? Well, here are a few final things we learned in 2016:
• A really good waitress - one that is attentive, anticipates your every need - is a great thing.
• A really good waitress - one that is attentive, anticipates your every need - is a great thing… UNLESS it’s New Years Eve and you’re in a bar and started drinking at 4:30pm so you can toast the British New Year at 6pm. Because every time you finish your vodka and cranberry, that good waitress pops up right next to you and asks if you’d like another. And, since the last one hasn’t hit the “You’ve had enough, ej. The world is starting to looking less shiny and more blurry” mark yet, you keep saying yes. And when you keep saying “Why yes, I’ll have another…” you end up on the floor of the bathroom at 3am regretting a whole lot of things - especially the invention of vodka and who’s every dumb idea it was to toast every county’s New Year.
Yeah, that really good kind of waitress is the kind of waitress you don’t want.
• It is imperative that Husband and I are not drunk at the same time, because the dogs cannot take care of themselves.
• And speaking of those dogs, they sure as heck are incapable of taking care of us while we’re lying on the floor in separate bathrooms, dying. I should have remembered that part from Broken Ankle when I was lying on the driveway and they brought me a Frisbee and a shoe. I did not. When you have drunk most of the bar, a soggy, headless Lamb Chop will not make the puking all better but thanks for shoving that squelchy wet thing in my face, Tigger the Dog. Husband said he kept calling for help and Joseph would just at paw at his arm and drool on his face. Useless.
• Apparently no matter how old I get, a hangover sucks. And the older I get, the suckier they get and longer to get over they take. And no matter how old I am, I forget that key bit of information when the nice waitress offers me a millionth vodka and cranberry.
• You know you’ve had WAY too much to drink if you get home and can’t remember if you’ve a) paid the bill and b) tipped the waitress. It’s been years since I’ve done the Walk of Shame but I’ve never done the Walk of Shame INTO the bar FOUR days later to ask if we paid and/or tipped. Mortified. In my defense, we’d left the house with $100 and came home with $2 so we thought we were good. Until I found $60 in a pocket and had to concede that nope, we had likely not paid OR tipped. Not the best start to the New Year.
On the other hand, I have yet to die of embarrassment, so there’s that…
• Husband and I know a bunch of interesting and entertaining people. When we get them all together in the same place, magic can happen. We forgot that last year - the bringing together part. We resolve to do better this year. But sober.
So far, this year has been interesting, challenging, and hysterical and no day has been the same. Hangover aside, that’s a good start, right? Fifty-one weeks to go!
My name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me