Facebook says I'm going to hell. This clicks back to facebook, and from there you can click to the test to see where you're going.
I really want this blue shirt like Daniel Tosh is wearing. Pic clicks to Tosh on Comedy Central.
I am apparently one of the rarest and most difficult to deal with personality types there are, so it's not surprising that Facebook says I'm going to hell. The pic clicks to the test if you want to find out your own personality, but you can also learn more here.
It's amazing how fast the rest of your face dries out when you have to spit a lot. Spitting sounds easy, how hard is it to produce a little bit of spit? Harder than you think. Our little human spit pouches feel like a big deal until we get graded on how fast we can produce the stuff. (You people thinking bad things, shame on you.)
That's right, I've been flagged 3 different ways for hereditary cancer, and medicare does NOT pay for this, so I'm hoping my supplement plan picks some of it up. The rest will go on a payment plan. I'd rather know than not know, right? My sisters and daughter will all be curious to know the results when I get them about a month from now. No idea if I'm the first family member to be tested, so if I turn out positive for carrier, the results will get passed around privately among a national network of genetically related individuals. This pic clicks to more info.
In the meantime, @bonenado is out picking up more stuff for salssssssa. We've got a tomato hill growing on the counter that needs immediate attention. Oh, and a scope for a deer rifle. We've decided his Native American name is Man With Bad Eyes And Crooked Bow. He also got scent bombs, fox urine, buck urine, a cool vest with a slick back pocket big enough to hold a machete, leg zip water proof camo pants that'll go with his new boots, and a tripod stool for when he's bow hunting. He's demonstrating it to me now. Woops, folded up on him. He's practicing the stand up maneuver. My knees would be too locked in place to stand up from something that low. Every year is pretty hilarious. I should look through my old private blogs sometime and do a special @bonenado post.
Sometimes I just have to pause on minecraft and appreciate that I'm actually part of real time 'living' art.
Real life. I keep telling you guys I live in Mirkwood. My house is on the other side of that huge wall of jungle in front of us there. (insert- that unmown grass on the left is 5-6 feet tall, and I'm not kidding, use the mailbox on the right for context) (and so you now have a mental picture when I start whining about pollen again...)
The forest looms.
We've got several kinds of wild grapes (raccoon grapes are a real thing) and whatever berries, I think this might be bittersweet, but that's just a guess. Between the gallons of acorns, hickory nuts, and walnuts and all the crazy wild berries and fruits around here (persimmon, pawpaw, osage orange), we have no lack of wildlife. Sometimes the squirrel population explodes, sometimes it's chipmunks, other years we might see foxes regularly, it's just up and down, mostly depending on weather and diseases spreading around. Big rabies and distemper area. (Scott just let me know the number of bats in the bat house has tripled since he looked last.)
Yeah, you can tell, right? I'm evening out on my meds this week. This is now my 5th week on gabapentin, first week back on beta blocker, first week of doubled zyrtec, and I seem to be busy and juggling all the things pretty well for a change. I'm able to do things without constantly maneuvering and planning around pain. There's still a bit there, but it's a little more manageable now. I've been able to start my workouts again, and I assess back into physical therapy in a few days, so just being more capable has shifted me into a terrific mood. I know that could be transitory, but while it lasts I have been enjoying getting my new syllabus on track, where I spend an hour every day reading and/or watching TV during the day to keep me time oriented and off minecraft. Minecraft is still hard and fast but less often, and so far my money and calendar syncs are still matching, even though I feel ditzy half the time.
That was quite a confession the other day, wasn't it? I remember in my 20s it was so taboo to even say out loud "I'm depressed." Over the years it was still taboo to admit it even to a doctor, much less a friend or someone from church, because the stigma of mental illness was so prominent that it meant immediate judgement and hushing up to hold down the tittering that would go on behind people's backs. My mother never got the real help she needed because of that. She begged people for help in the only way she knew how, ways that were controlled and sanctioned by a rigid belief system, and she died way too soon because of it, even though she fought hard the only way she knew to be herself, with all her glorious mood swings and the ways she could never quite fit into what people expected of her.
My mom was one of the kindest people anyone around us knew, spending money we didn't have to make sure other people's bills were paid, actually taking food to the destitute falling through cracks, making sure lonely people got cards in the mail during their last days of long illness. I'm not capable of that, but I am capable of standing up and saying I'm mentally ill and the world hasn't ended and my life is good, and I share this because it's important, and I hope other people can learn and realize that standing up for our own truths and honesty is how we survive.
I am not an easy person. I've learned how to be kind, but I'm not naturally born sweet. Hi, I'm Pinky, and I'm ok with myself.
