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.
Yesterday was… all the feelings. At once, on top of each other, fighting to be felt. Which made me nauseous and sad and dizzy and … well, feel all the feelings.
But yesterday I was with two of the people I love. And Brother called and made Mom and I laugh. And Husband and Mom and I went out to lunch. And the sun was shining and the sky was blue and the birds were singing. And I have a new Jack Reacher book and a warm house and comfy couch and time to read it.
AND it was five months to the day since I Broke Ankle and I spent time in the garden moving mulch and Broken Ankle hurt but ache/sore/muscle/swollen hurt not stabbing/must inhale lots of drugs broken pain.
And then there was Joseph.
Joseph has a peculated mass on his elbow that keeps catching on things and bleeding - usually all over the white couch or rug. Earlier in the week I tried one of my butchered socks but he kept licking it down his leg, getting it caught on his foot and doing this wonky walk to get it off. So I tried the vet’s suggestion of a t-shirt. I went with one of Husband’s long sleeved one because of where the mass is on the elbow. It was not the best choice.
Because, as you can see, Joseph was not in the least impressed with my ingenuity.
Even after I rolled up the sleeves a bit, he shot me that look of disappointment that makes you want to hug him, even when he is covered in drool and smells like poop.
And while I was trying to take this picture of Joseph, I spotted a Coyote in the backyard which Tigger the Dog also spotted. So, I took this picture and sent it to Husband. The Coyote is at the back of the cement pad trying to win a starring contest with a doesn't know any better dog.
And while I was sending the picture of TTD threatening the Coyote through the window, Joseph suddenly decided the t-shirt was some sort of creature attacking him and FREAKED OUT.
Like did this massive hop-shimmy-wriggle-jump thing, with eyes bulging and weird groan-moan noises freak-out thing all over the den to get the evil t-shirt beast off. In the process knocking over a large plant pot, slamming into the TV and causing Mom and I to laugh so hard that we cried.
My quick solution to keep the blood off the carpet resulted in dirt ground into the carpet, a slimy TV, a traumatized dog and a reality check. Life keeps on going. And life can still be funny. All you need is a batshit crazy dog and a t-shirt.
Get on that. It really makes the pukey dizzy feelings go away.
Ooooh wee have I been quiet on here. Not that I haven't had lots to say. On the contrary, I've had too much to say. I've started several dozens posts - some lie dormant on my computer, some still spinning around my head - but none of the words have been perfect. None of the brilliance that spews from my angst has been able to perfectly express my feelings. My raw, painful, angry, frustrated feelings.
And there is so much sh*t on the Internet, in the news, in the air, what is my part in that? Do I really need to add my voice, my raw, painful, angry, frustrated feelings, to the masses of negative blurts? What sort of contribution am I making to the world if I do? There is so much that is icky out there, why fill that bucket with more?
So I've been quiet here and verbally volcanic at home. My jaw is clenched at night I dream of monsters and toothless attackers and crying babies and thunder – though that last might be the popcorn I ate just before bedtime fighting with my stomach to stay...
The random blurts about my life with Husband, does that further the human race or hold it back? I mean, really do you really need to know about the current disaster going on in our house right now? Is your life incomplete until you find out about how utterly horrible it is that the folks that make Husband’s toiletries have discontinued the line he uses and we had to spend an hour in Target last week testing all possible replacements.
Change is not good when it means listening to the pros and cons of a smell – for. an. hour. Even if it is in my happy place.
And the possible replacement ‘smell’ - which is something called Island - has a coconut spice bouquet that is blending in the most horrible way with the smell of death that the dogs are tooting after eating whatever was in the yard.
And speaking of dogs, Tigger the Dog fended off a coyote the other day. Barked the sucker off the property to the other side of the crick to stand staring, threatening to come back when she wasn’t looking. And then it did come back this morning while TTD was asleep on the dog bed in the sun. Is that really news that will make your morning move?
Is it necessary for you know, for me to share that the surgeon has said Broken Ankle is 100% healed. (Or heeled if you’re me trying to be funny.) And how totally disappointed I was with his lack of celebration for all I’ve accomplished. Learning to walk again is hard, ya’ll. Where was my blue ribbon for that race? How about a certificate for a free dance class or a list of places to hike in Nashville or a discount for a tattoo that will cover the Halloween scars that line my ankle? He could have at least given me a lollypop. I mean, Broken Ankle paid for his summer vacation and braces for his kids.
Also, Doc, if I’m healed, how come the sucker still hurts when I walk or when I drive or when the weather changes to thunder and lightening or when I’m just sitting about and the freaking Pain Tourette’s kicks in for no damn reason? How come I can’t walk down stairs unless I turnaround and go down backwards, reassuring myself the whole way that I can do it? How come the stupid Right thing is still swollen and a whole different color from Left thing and the only thing that makes it feel better is a freakin’ leg warmer thing that I’ve cobbled together? And when oh when will my tippy toe come back on that side? Screw doing Ballet, I want to be able to reach things on the top shelf again.
Yeah, Doc, healed, my ass.
As you can see, just lightness and joy over here… So, until I figure out how I’m contributing to the positive, I’m going to keep my negatives to myself and just be present in my very small world for a while. The mom is coming into town tomorrow and I’ve got stories to listen to more than once, tippy toes to practice, nature to stare at and candles to light to try and combat the smell of Hawaiian death… It’s the little things, apparently, that smell the worst.
Sorry to have gone AWOL there. I've been dealing/negotiating/fighting/processing all things Mom and aging and change. It's been funny but not been fun.
I'm currently in my Grandmother's house in Pebble Beach. Don't get excited. It's not a fancy Pebble Beach house. It's a basic ranch that they built themselves in the 40's with a bit of help from the government and Evil Grandmother (what my Grandmother called her Mother-in-law.) My Grandmother died 20 years ago. The house hasn't really changed despite having had my Grandmother's friend and Mom's Guy living here since. The toys we played with are still in the cabinet next to the fire place. Mom's shell collection from her school project still tucked in another cabinet, albeit now heavily covered in dust and spiders and their dinner leftovers. And I'm tucked in the tiny bed in Mom's childhood bedroom with a whole host of memories- and spiders and their dinner leftovers. It's funny but not fun.
Yesterday, I cleaned out the hallway closet and found a receipt from 1996 in the pocket of one of Grandmother's coats along with a fragile tissue. Also in the closet were the TV trays she ate off when tennis was on and a parasol of my Mom's from when they were stationed in China. Oh, and a very large pissed off Black Widow who had happily been living in there for years - likely the 20 since it was last opened.
This purging of life is... depressing and difficult and downright creepy but doing it along side a woman who is very slowly losing the memories of that life... well, I thought I knew pain with Broken Ankle. This is worse.
So if I'm AWOL off and on for a bit know it's not because I don't have anything to say. It's because the words are covered in feelings too raw to form sentences. And I'm often too teary to find the funny, small moments that we/I need.
Small moments like this: my Mother is currently trying to find a doctor who will perform her colonoscopy without knocking her out. Because she wants to watch. Apparently it's very difficult to find one who will willing shove a tube up your bum while you're awake and watching and commenting as you round the 'corners' or stop for pictures.
My Mother - taking the control part of control freak to another level.
Silver lining to all this, I'm in California. And this beach, Spanish Bay, is where we took our Christmas Day walk every year. Of course, it's a lot colder and less populated on December 25 but it still doesn't suck. Forgive the sideways video. I'm on my phone with spotty internet because Grandmother's house stopped evolving when she died.
One of my favorite, absolutely FAVORITE things about Nashville, Tennessee is the wildlife. I mean, in the last month we’ve seen a Bobcat stalking a Woodchuck, Owls hunting Pepper the Wannabe Cat for dinner and even two young Red Tailed Hawks playing morning tag in our backyard. Love that!
What I don’t love about Nashville, Tennessee is that along with the awesome wildlife, we have a plethora of bugs and things that creep and crawl. Like, for example, the massive Spider that made a big sticky web in front of the patio door this weekend. The massive sticky web I found and removed on Tuesday BEFORE I stepped into it but didn’t realize he’d rebuilt it and proceeded to step INTO it yesterday FACE FIRST.
Luckily I saw said gigantic, probably poisonous and totally deadly, Spider on the wall after I did the “Eeeek!!! WHATTHE HECKIT’SONMYFREAKIN’FACE!!!” dance, so I know she isn’t now nesting in my hair, laying eggs that will emerge during the middle of the night to swarm my body and bite me for food.
Even luckier, Husband’s security camera caught the “Eeeek!!! WHATTHEHECKIT’SON MYFREAKIN’FACE!!!” dance, and subsequent de-webbing for your viewing pleasure.
Add in your own soundtrack of screeching as you enjoy these blurry security camera pictures of my pain. And don't feel so bad for Spider. She built the damn web again last night and almost got me again!
UPDATE: She's back! Night four of web making. This isn't the actual size of the spider. IT'S BIGGER THAN THIS!!!
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