Meet My Pretty Addiction

 Great Day!

I finished re-upholstering my antique rocking chair. I've only wanted to do it for about 20 years! Procrastination baby!!! One of my super powers!

Well, of course, the rocking chair is barely visible!
Just don't look at the bottom!

Two of my granddaughters brought the plate on the table from Italy for me. I love it but mostly I love that they know my style; Bright and Colorful!!!

I took a couple of other photos of some of my plant addiction today. I did dust the leaves today but do not look closely at the floor...dog hair!

Can you see my didgeridoo on the table? Part of the therapy 
for my lungs! Cool huh!

Meet ZZ on the table. I am in love with this plant. It has such beautiful branches and glossy leaves. The fern (Herna-Ferna) is lower right. She's growing so fast I'm going to have to build her a room of her own!

The top of brick half-wall is filled with Pothos. I may have more Pothos than anyone in the world (just ask The Guy). I have several of my mother's and many, many rooted cuttings. 

Don't tell me I didn't warn you about the overabundance of Pothos. They're everywhere!

Speaking of overabundance; the Purple Heart Wandering Tradescantia is trying to take over the house. 

Several times a month I need to take cuttings of the wandering purple heart and root them in the kitchen. While the cuttings are rooting, I have to take cuttings from them. This photo does not do it justice though. It really is a deep, deep purple!

As I look at these photos I wonder why I took them without picking up the clutter. 

Oh, I know, the clutter is still there because I can always put stuff away tomorrow! Isn't that what tomorrows are for?

More plants? Hell yeah.

Kitchen, family room, bathrooms and entry. Still need to find a place for the Sansevieria I promised myself earlier this week.

Weekend is coming up...any plans?

Covid Coping

 A random comment popped up today on a post I made pre-Covid.. 

The post was right after I painted over some of my murals and painted the fireplace bricks. We were "neutralizing" the house. Life was extremely hectic; we were taking care of my parents as their health declined; Frank was still working. We needed our house to be less colorful, less jazzy, more peaceful, to help calm ourselves when returning from chaos.  

We were also decluttering and packing some items as we prepared to move out of state.

I posted several photos of the changes. The photo below is one corner of the family room. 

We were making progress! Then my parents passed and Covid hit. 

Isolation and grief reigned. Restaurants closed, no one was taking donations, no one buying off of Marketplace or Craigslist, no one visiting, everything on the news was just plain ugly...you know, you were there! 

What got you through Covid? 

Many humans self-medicate to get through trauma. Some smoke, some drink or take drugs, others just gaze out the window and drool (been there). 

My preferred self-prescribed remedy for stress: Adopting houseplants, lots and lots of houseplants. I have fur babies and photosynthesis babies!

I revisited the post from said random comment  Cue the laughter and humiliation as  I looked up at the corner as it is today. I iddendiately jumped up and removed a couple of the plants to clear the jungle a bit! I can't believe I've filled the corner to the brim! Then I shot the following photo!

Realization:  I haven't decluttered at all. I just got rid of stuff to make room for different (more) stuff!

Shame on me. 

I should go to Lowes and pickup more  boxes for packing and maybe more garbage bags for donations. Gotta get back in declutter and purge state.-of-mind.  Maybe tI'll ake a quick peek in the nursery department...just in case someone wants to come home with me! You know, as long as I'm there!

I just realized we don't have a Sansevieria!

How did you get through Covid? Wine? Road rage? Netflix? Maybe you didn't cope well and are reading this blog from your cell. Inquiring minds, you know!

Couch Advice

 Mabon Blessings! 

Straddling the line today, beware your footing!

The Guy and I were watching a couple of detective/mystery shows last night. It could be that I am clueless or just haven't been paying attention. I discovered how much The Guy talks to the characters. "Talks" meaning advises, berates and admonishes!

When the "good guy" warns another character to "stay here", my Guy rolls his eyes and warns Good-Guy that no one ever listens to "stay here"! If Good-Guy is instructing a child or teenager to "stay here", my guy shouts, "They're a kid, kids don't know how to "stay here"!

When Good-Guy agrees to meet under the bridge (alone) in the industrial area (or wharf) at midnight, my guy yells, "it's a set-up, geez were you born last night?" When Good-Guy gets shot, stabbed or beat-up, from across the room I hear, "Warned you, you idiot!"

Then there are the times Good-Guy ("or woman if you are one" Colin Hayes, Beautiful World) races to a warehouse where there are 17 known thugs with weapons, drugs and bad attitudes inside, (maybe a hostage or two). Good-Guy may or may not call for back-up but does he wait for back-up? Hell no, Good-Guy  races into building alone, maybe even limps into the warehouse due to injuries from the beating in the early hours under the bridge, probably bleeding from a gun shot to the shoulder or stab wound to the gut!

My Guy couch wisdom:

"Yeah, go in by your lone-self, you narcissistic fool."
"You're going to die, don't say I didn't warn you?"
"Ooh, your mama going to be soooo mad cuz you done left your brains at home...again."

Good-Guy with wire cutters and the blue-with-white-stripe-or-white-with-blue-stripe bomb about to go off in 12 seconds; building, train or bus full of people...

"Hungover huh? Should have gone home last night instead of drinking whiskey at that nasty strip joint!"

Or

"Cut the damn wire! You've read the scrip; it isn't going to blow!"

Good-Guys are not the only characters to receive couch wisdom, There is the occasional insomniac who decides that jogging in the wee hours of the day will help them clear their head...or lose it! My blog is rated PG, so I can't share with you what advice he has to say to the lone joggers, with ponytails and earbuds...

Mostly I just love it when my guy deeply sighs and wonders outloud, "Don't these fools ever watch tv?

Do you talk to your television? Know someone that does?

Remembering Your Lasts

 We document and/or celebrate all our "firsts"; first solid food, first steps, first day of school, first kiss. First everything!

Yesterday I tried to get out of my comfy chair and had to try twice; rocking forward, then pushing with hands. I walked down the hall and realized that I hold onto the wall to stabilize and balance myself. (Lord help me if I ever get pulled over and asked to walk a straight line!)

It made me think if I can remember the last time I just stood up from my chair; any chair. When did I last walk down the hall without leaning against the wall?

Then I tried to remember the last time I walked out to the car without using the side of car to assure myself I wouldn't trip or fall. 

When was the last time I walked out to the yard and just bent over to pull a weed instead of sitting on the ground? Hell, when was the last time I could just pop up off the ground.

This summer I discovered I can only swim 1 1/2 laps in the pool without turning  to float on my back to catch my breath. Last summer I was could easily swim 15 laps. I can't get out of pool on my own this year; I need a hand to help me step out.

Taking a shower wears me out! Don't even get me started on shaving my legs!

When the hell did I get old!!!!

My goal is to do some strength and endurance exercises...starting with lifting 2 lb weights 3 times...a week!!! 

Actually, besides trying to get some stamina back, my real goal is to pay attention to all the mundane things I do each and every day. I'll pay attention to putting socks on, cooking dinner, walking the 30 feet to retrieve the mail. 

I'll also cherish the precious events, every hug, every smile, every cup of coffee shared with a friend, every single "goodnight sweetheart, I love you."

Do you have a "lasts list?"

On a lighter note: The guy discovered a whole tract of Whovilles on the side of Mt. Shasta. He took a picture to prove that the Lemurians aren't the only beings residing on the mountain!

Diagnosis Anniversary...hell's bells

 Hi All,

Sorry for not keeping up with you all. I have been lurking though, not Walking-Dead kind of lurking! I promise not to bite or scratch! Sometimes I comment, but my depression is a bit escalated so I just think of a response or comment but find it's difficult to type it out while sucking on my thumb.

It's been a year since my original diagnosis of Pulmonary Fibrosis. My pulmonary function tests are pretty good, so I'm not in need of oxygen assistance yet. Yay.

The clinical trial almost killed me! Well, not really but sometimes I wished I was dead while on it. I made it through 8 months of the 9 month trial before having to drop out. The medication I was taking was not Perfinidone nor was it the placebo but they were testing a chemo-drug that had proven to delay progress of fibrosis in cancer patients so they were doing a "tolerance trial"! 

I tolerated the side effects pretty well for the first 4 months but each week the nausea, dizziness, physical and mental fatigue, headaches, joint and muscle pain got worse and worse until I just cried UNCLE! 

The trial people were super supportive! They were extremely understanding of my need to quit the trial. Since my bail from the trial I am feeling better, not good, just better.

The pulmonologists tell me I have to keep moving. Move, Move, Move! My ortho guy says my knee pain is due to bone-on-bone in my left knee and advises a total knee replacement. My pulmonologist will not sign the release for me to have the surgery, saying that the condition of my lungs will hinder my recovery yet he keeps telling me to move! The more my knee hurts, the harder it is to move but oh so easy to cry and want to punch walls and stupid people...sometimes even nice people!

But wait, there's more!!! Blood tests results show I'm positive for Lupus and Scleroderma but not showing enough of the physical markers. They will not make a firmative diagnosis but they are telling me they think the fibrosis is caused by an autoimmune disease...BUT there are, oh, about 5000 to 6000 autoimmune diseases and it can take 5 to 6 years to actually figure out which one it is! In the meantime, the average life expectancy after diagnosis with PF is about 3 to 5 years. I'm down one year, so who knows...maybe I'll email the Shadow. Word is the Shadow is in the know.

I see my primary physician tomorrow. During my last visit she suggested increasing my anti-depression med and I refused but this time I'm begging for it.

I also see my ortho doc tomorrow and am going to ask him about a knee ablation procedure. The steroid injection he gave me three months ago relieved the pain for about 3 days and, bam, the pain came back with a vengenance!

The therapist I've been seeing (psychologist not physical) has been a tremendous help with coming to terms with lots of life's stuff. She is an awesome therapist. I really have no idea where I'd be if it wasn't for her and the support of the Guy.

The Guy has truly stepped up and is my hero. 

All is not bad though! My grandson checks on us all the time, asks how I am doing, if there is anything he can do to help. He is my second hero. 

The Guy and I are in the mountains a couple of days a week searching for the next great photo. Alternative days he and his buddy are out hiking in the mountains photographing wildflowers, picas and marmots, bears and foxes, sunsets and rainbows.

When he is gone I paint, refinish furniture and swim. 

Together we visit with good friends and are still planning to relocate, probably to Ohio, but still not sure. 

Two of our granddaughters graduated from college this year. One with a teaching degree and the other one with a degree in structural engineering. One of our grandsons is headed to Australia for a month and another had his first equestrian show! Our 9-year-old greatgrandaughter is racing dragsters. She does the 1/8 mile in under 12 seconds and has a killer reaction time from what her pit crew say. The paint job on her dragster is a holy-moly look!

The Guy and I flew to Denver, visited with a granddaughter, then drove home. The drive was glorious. We visited Rocky Mountain National Park, drove through Vail Colorado while the aspens were strutting thier glorious stuff. 

I hope you are all doing well and staying well. I'll be checking in on you and if the increased meds work, my thumb will be out of my mouth long enough to comment on your wonderful blogs.

I Just Love Him

Pulmonary Rehab is great. The therapists are super helpful, positive and encouraging. I'm building up stamina, learning tons or great (scary) stuff. 

 Yesterday was the first day of the Pulmonary Fibrosis Clinical Trial that I'm in. Feels like a crazy dream (nightmare). Clinical trial first hour is about paperwork, risks, rewards, protocols and commitment. Then there is drawing blood (lots of blood), a super EKG with the little electrodes placed from ankles to neck! 

So I'm laying there exposed and they do two EKGs. First one, one of the nurses in the room says "thats not a good one, take another." The machine does its short eeerrrrr noise and nurse says again, "not good, hold on." They take several of the electrode patches off and replace them with new ones. Then eeeerrrrr and again, she says, "do another!"

Calmly as I can I ask if they are saying not good because of what the EKG is reading, thinking that maybe I'll die from a heart attack before the IPF gets me. They reassure me that its not me, its the machine. She says the machine is just really old and its hard to get a good reading. They try again, apologizing for leaving me exposed for so long. (I typically don't bother with a bra but I'm kind of happy I wore one to the party that day. Not because I was embarrassed being exposed but because the room was kind of cold...if you know what I mean!)

So they try again and this time it works. Report comes out super good. Oh yeah, forgot to tell you another nurse came in to draw my blood while I was getting the last EKG because they tried 2 times before and couldn't get the blood to flow. 

I felt bad for the first lab tech to try. She came in with what seemed like a hundred tubes and started to explain that it wasn't really as much blood to be taken as it looked to be with all the tubes. I tried to make a joke about passing out with the amount of blood she was going to drain from me. Apparently she was not in a funny mood because she seriously looked me in the eye and asked, "Do you have a problem with needles or blood draws?"

"No, I don't," I answered, "UNLESS the person drawing my blood misses catching the vein twice." I explained to her that if a lab person or nurse misses twice I always ask for another person to do it. My experience has been that the person becomes frustrated and we both lose, hence, someone fresh to try.

She looked just a bit anxious and missed twice! Well, of course she did. Note: she did not hurt me. She was gentle and I was probably a little dehydrated. So I started drinking plenty of water during the other tests. 

Eventually all the tests were done and blood drawn, cups peed in and clothing back in place. 

But wait, it got better. The trial coordinator (my very own personal coordinator...how lucky am I?), anyway, the trial coordinator comes in with a pretty blue and white box. Breaking it open, she pulls out a brand new IPhone, a 16 page instruction book and a spirometer. Once a week I get to breathe into this little machine and the phone reports it to the trial powers-that-be. Cool huh!

Not so cool. The machine has a mouthpiece and you inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale  and then the machine demands INHALE....EXHALE QUICKLY! 

Easy, right? No, not easy. 

You have to exhale as quick and forceful as you can and the machine demands, "Keep Going" over and over and over and over and over, until you feel like you (me) are going to pass out, or the veins throbbing in your temples are going to explode. You (me) decide not to have a stroke or fall off the chair, stop exhaling. The machine then gives you a "Fail" and encourages you to try again. 

I got eight attempts yesterday and only got the "Success!" flag twice. The machine then tells you to stop and try again tomorrow morning. I guess almost dying 8 times a day is the maximum they will allow in the trial. Not sure if that is mandated by the research agency or the feds but doesn't really matter, I'm just thankful it is only 8.

Today, I try again. This time I have The Guy as my helper. (Man, I love him!) So we try to figure out the Iphone, get a connections, got the blue light and we're off to the races. 

I tried. FAIL. I tried again. FAIL. The Guy is harmonizing with the machine. "Keep going. Keep going. Keep going! Keep going!" FAiL! 

I swear to you, my friends that my Guy got tears in his eyes. He actually apologized for not being able to help me or give me hints. He tried. He tried so hard. Blow harder, blow quicker, tighten your mouth around the tube. He tried so hard to help me succeed at blowing in the bossy machine's tube to get a SUCCESS. He is also aware of my authority issues and that having a machine making demands of me is pissing me off!

I finally got it! I blew so fricking hard and exhaled so much that a headache and chest pain rushed into the vacancies created. I'm having a difficult time trying to figure out why a program for someone with pulmonary problems and the stress of knowing there is no cure are expected to succeed but then again, "Mine is not to question why, mine is but to do or"...oh fuck!!

So, I just want to share with you how awesome my honey is. I met a couple of friends for coffee and was gone for about 4 hours. (We always say we're meeting for coffee but we're really meeting for meaningful conversation, hence the 4 hours). While I was chatting away with friends, the Guy cleaned the house from top to bottom. Washed the sheets, made the bed, put a roast in the crock pot greeted me at the door with a hug and a kiss and the pups! 

I thought I might share an AI photo of him. (can't help my kids and the Guy! They are all nerds to their very cores). First photo is how I see my guy!

He's a pretty handsome guy! Take away the crown and the beard, mustache is his and this looks exactly like him.

This next photo is how he sees himself...yes, he thinks he could do manly-shampoo ads or "tastes like real butter" commercials!

This beard might be his. The color of his hair matches but it hasn't been this long since the '70's!

Bottom line: I just love him! He's my rock!

Happy Winter Soltice! Merry Christmas! Blessed Yule!
Happy Holidays!

Pagan Ritual..ready, set,...

Time for the most fun pagan ritual. Time to get out my purple satin cape to catch the mistletoe as I harvest it. Time to Sage and sweep the house out and best of all, time to set up the holiday tree. 

We're still purging...boy, have we got a lot of shit! A lot less than a year ago. We've shredded enough paper to keep snowglobe companies in business for decades!

On the IPF side of things. The medication my pumonologist prescribed ended up being a little bit over $14000 a month and our insurance will cover enough that our cost will only be a little over $2900 a month. After we laughed until our sides ached. We declined the medication. Then the pharmaceutical company said there were several programs/ grants that helped pay the copays. Alas, we didn't qualify. Apparently we make about $15 too much per year! LOL.

We discovered that we can get a month's precription from Australia for about $895/mo and Canada between $1100/mo to 1800/mo. Crazy! Are there really people who can afford that kind of long term costs for medication? 

I started pulmonary rehab. Nice people and really nice getting back into a regular exercise routine. Other than having some chest pain and O2 dropping down into the high 80's a couple of times, I'm doing pretty good.

I was accepted into a Stage 2 clinical trial for a new medication. (happy dance!!!) The research company offered to pay my travel expenses for visiting the clinic once a month for the duration of the trial. I agreed and then discovered that the research labs are right across the river from us! 

Can't tell you how much it breaks my heart to rob the pharmaceutical company of their big bucks but I'm sure they'll get it out of someone else!

Over the years I have seen a therapist off and on, mostly for my PTSD flame ups and some of life's bigger challenges. I have the best therapist in the world (totally biased). She calls me a Kick-Ass Warrior Woman, so I occasionally need a Kick-Ass Warrior Woman tune-up!

I was telling her the biggest fear I have about dying is that I'll miss my kids. We talked about how I probably just am afraid of "missing out" on their life's events. I was primed to believe she was right.

My baby girl's birthday is in November. She turned 50 this year! (you remember, baby girl with PhD, working for the Department of Defense!)She and her husband came out to California for a nice visit, not long enough ever but still nice.

Participation is great but there is a lot to be said about observation. I did a lot of both while Nicole and Brian were here. I've spent some time with my sons and their wives, again participating and observing. When Nicole and Brian returned to Virginia, boys retured to their homes, I had a huge epiphany. I'd call it "life Changing" but I think if was more like "Dying Changing"!

I realized that what made me afraid to die was not so much "missing" my kids, it was more that I was afraid that they would need me and I wouldn't be here to help them. Now I know that kids always need their parents in some ways. My mom and dad have been gone since 2018 and I still want to call them and share things with them. I miss them dearly. My realization was that my children and their spouses, their families are solid, they're successful, they're settled, they're independent. They've made it! 

Bottom line. They don't need me to jump in and rescue them! (Once a mom, always a mom!) Honestly, they're all so successful, they would probably be the ones rescuing me! 

It's okay if I'm not around one day (except for my doggies who might sit by the door wondering why I'm gone so long). My kids have got this! They're rock stars. 

I'm so proud of them and I know whatever comes they will rise to the challenge! Makes a momma proud. 

I'm not ready to jump ship by any means but if the ship dumps me, it'll be okay!

Now. gotta go harvest some mistletoe and sage. 2023, here I come!

Plunking Around

 Sunday! Football. More purging! It's crazy how many times I pull things out  of a box when the first thought is "what was I thinking!"

While going though old files do any of you find yellowed paper with random phone #'? No name, or a first name, no last, and you have no idea who, what or where! Found a post-it note that said "Tuesday, 10:00"! Makes me think  someone called and said they were on their way to our house, so I gathered up a bunch of odd and ends, magazines, nail files, polish remover, cool I'll-check-that-out-later catalogs and a partner-less sock, dumped it all in a box and the box ended up in the garage.

At least, by purging now, there is the promise that we will not be hauling tons of useless ephemera with us to Ohio!

Visited Denver last week to celebrate our oldest granddaughter's 25th birthday with her. Quarter of a Century! How did little Alli get to 25 when I'm only 42?

We had plans on visiting my 90 year-old aunt and lots of cousins but the altitude threatened to strangle me. We had to head home after just one day at that altitude! Another Pulmonary Fibrosis benefit! Also found out that wrapping a scarf around my mouth and nose when outside in weather below 40 degrees is advised unless I want to go for marathon coughing!

No Cold Air
No High Altitudes
Learning a lot with this diagnosis. Also getting some excellent naturopathic advice from good friends. 

Pulmonologist looked at my white white hair (ignoring the purple highlights) and asked when I first starting going gray. I answered that I got my first gray hair in high school, true. He stated that families predisposed to premature gray hair are also predisposed to Pulmonary Fibrosis. 

Sorry, Dude, (Dr. Dude) but no history of IPF in the family and longevity is the best part of our DNA. Family members live to be late 90's. 100 and even 102. ( I thought my great-grandmother lived to be 104 but I was corrected by my mother. Great grandma only lived to be 102!

Before I let you go, I want to share a little entry from my mother's journal. (No wonder, packing is taking so long, I keep pulling out the journal and catching up on Mom's life)

Quote from journal:

"Mama's mother, grandma Daisy is 102. While we were in the kitchen I asked her if she's always been healthy. She replied that she has rarely been ill. No time living on the ranch! I asked her, Grandma, have you ever been bedridden? Yes, mi hija, hundreds and hundreds of times, even once in a buggy!"

Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This

Hi all, I've missed you all, though I do check up on you now and then. 

Life has been crazy here in Shasta County. Los Angeles Times and New York Times have actually written articles about the craziness. 

Several years ago a rich guy came to town, built a gorgeous winery, event center and chapel all without permits. The county charged him and he had to pay penalties...which of course the entitled white rich man was above doing. He closed everything up (or the county did, not sure). He moved to Connecticut  but with a soul dedicated to revenge! We have a huge bunch of Trumpers, Election deniers, White Militia and GOP cowboys here in the county and they are taking over the county all with the financial backing of Mr. Revengeful. It's damn scary. 

That's exactly what we needed to go with Covid and forest fires and smoke and drought. If you see any green lawns in our county it's because they've been sprayed green or your very rich and don't mind paying the fines.

We've been slowly packing and purging to make our exit from California and were seriously considering North Carolina or Virginia. It looks like it's going to be Ohio! Yup, OHIO!

When I told one of my granddaughters that her hippy grandmother was moving to Ohio she laughed her head off (almost). "Ohio!" she said, "I almost forgot there was a state named Ohio!"

Ohio is not my first choice. I need mountains. Every time I see a drone view of a house on Zillow or Realtor.com and see that flat horizon my heart pounds and I can't breathe for a second or two. Flat scares me. A friend that lives in Ohio said not to worry, they have hills. He just doesn't get my attachment to Mt. Lassen and Mt. Shasta and all the surrounding mountains. 

Why am I considering Ohio, you're probably asking yourself. Not such a long story. 

I've been diagnosed with Pulmonary Fibrosis. Not a good thing. Average kicking-of-the-bucket typically happens within 1 to 3 years after diagnosis. Diagnosed two months ago by accident, my worthless doctor actually had a report from a CT done in 2020 that showed the beginnings of IPF but failed to tell me. A CT done this year to look for something completely different showed progression. My chiropractor actually diagnosed it. No cure, just progression and then cough, choke, death. Crap!

 Ohio has Cleveland Clinic, which has an outstanding pulmonary department. So flatland it is. 

I'm extremely anxious and depressed with this. I've taken all the tests and am awaiting next doctor visit (with pulmonologist not old GP). In the meantime, I'm trying all the naturopathic things I can do. NAC, Vitamins C,D, & E. Doing some breathing exercises and (don't laugh) third chakra work. 

I'm working with a therapist on a Death with Dignity plan, which probably means coming back to west coast or another state that allows it. Ohio doesn't have that option. The thought of suffocating while my family stands by just doesn't have any appeal.

I have three kids (kids all in their 50's) but they are the most intelligent, funny and glorious humans. It makes me sad how much I will miss of their lives but mostly their humor and intelligent conversations. 

Don't get me wrong. I'm not giving up. I will put every effort into delaying the progression of this disease but there is no cure (YET). 

Dr. Pulmonologist says there are medications to help slow progression but the cost is about $70,000 a year which insurance will pay approx $1000 per month. He doesn't prescribe it, unless his patients insist, because it only has about a 5% efficiency in slowing progression. Can you imagine? $70,000 a year. Big Pharma scores again!

So, breathe deep, my friends. Keep moving. Get out of town when the skies fill up with wildfire smoke. 

I'll keep you all up to date. Back to packing and hacking!!!

Inspiration

We survived another sleep-over with our 7 year old great-granddaughter, Ms. B! 

We picked her up from school yesterday, came home for a picnic that she set up. We sanded a couple of bedside tables that I'm going to paint. 

We came inside. She is quite the gymnastic kid so she moved a couple of items, a table, plants and ottoman, so she could do forward hand springs or stand on her hands whenever she felt the urge. She felt the urge often, sometimes in the middle of a sentence.

At one point, after an exceptionally spontaneous handspring, she sat on the ground holding her shin and announced loudly, "It hurts to be cool!"

If you ask Ms. B how old she is she will tell you "7 and a half so technically I'm 8!" She rounds up on her age but not when passing out cookies. She and The Guy (technically The Papa!) made chocolate chip cookies and ordered pizza (forget Keto this weekend).

She went home early this evening. The Papa and I took some Tylenol and are watching the clock. We don't want to be wussy and go to bed before 9 p.m. It would somehow make it official to us that our butts were kicked by a little girl. Two to One and she still kicked butt!

As soon as that long-hand hits the 12...14 minutes from now, I'm fluffing the pillow and calling it a day. Before I sleep though, I will be sending out a little prayer of gratitude...for not falling off my bike, for being able to get off the ground after the picnic, for being Ms. B's star student during a game of School, for Papa making pancakes with sprinkles and Boysenberry Syrup, and to Ms. B for inspiring me to get back on my bike and ride!

I'm sleeping good tonight because tomorrow WE RIDE!

Where's My Glasses!

 I hopped on my blog today to check out the blogs I'm following.

As I scrolled down the right side, a widget from long ago caught my eye. It is some long forgotten link proclaiming myself a Democrat. I hadn't read the description in a long time. These words are the widgets, not mine.

You are a Working Class Warrior, also known a blue-collar Democrat or Occupier.

You believe that the little guy is getting screwed by conservative greed-mongers and

 corporate criminals, and you’re not going to take it anymore.

With my reading glasses sitting next to my coffee on the table,  I had to squint with my "good eye"! "Good eye" meaning not the worst one,  I read, "the little guy get screwed by conservative good-manners!...WTF!!!!

My neck almost snapped as I reached for my readers.

                                                              "...conservative greed-mongers.".

I guess I'm going to find one of those reading  glass necklace holder thingies. Are they called Glass Retainers? I'll hippy it up with some peace-beads and keep my reading eyes safe from fake news!

Photo courtesy of Wish.com

Daily Self-Care Distractions!

Craziness going on in the world! I'm CNN-Twitter-ABCNews-PBS-ed Out! 

Need a bit of self-care, I typically self-medicate my chronic depression and anxiety with Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia but my thighs begged me in a dream last night to have mercy on them!

So, what can I do for the sake of my thighs and waistline? I know...random questions about things that will never be! (Sorry, gave up sanity for Lent!)

My sister posted this on FB yesterday:

Not sure of original author...sorry!

A commenter announced that they would love to have their life narrated by Morgan Freeman!

That would indeed be pretty cool but I'm a woman so as much as I love Freeman's voice (and boy do I love it) I think it would be more self-affirming and less condescending to have a woman's voice in the narration department. 

Who would you like to narrate your life story on the next Netflix Made-for-TV movie or do you think your life is Big-Screen-ish?

I've been around the sun 71 times. In that time I've had some highs and some lows but nothing big-screen worthy. My biography is definitely closer to TV, I mean if professional bowling has a show why not me Why not you, right?

After the first 10 minutes of national news, I flipped over to Ed Sheeran channel on Pandora, grabbed a soda, and tried to figure out who would be the voice to my ups, downs and long, long flatlines!

Helen Mirren. That's who I want! It was a tie between her and Emma Thompson. Deciding was a challenge until I figured Mirren should narrate and Thompson would play me!  

Now my sisters-in-law would probably suggest it be more appropriate that Roseann Barr narrate. I haven't won a lot of brownie points with them the last couple of years! We'll leave that part out of the movie!

So, share with us. 

Who would narrate your movie?

Who would be play you?

Maybe Lily Tomlin would make a better me in the movie? What actor  is a cross between Tomlin, Thompson and Cher (okay, just a little Barr)!

Next meaningless and random distraction: What characters in a movie or tv show would you hire to take Putin to the Train Station (wink wink, nudge nudge)?