It's amazing how settled my nerves are this morning after that long post yesterday. Normally on appointment mornings I'm a tad 'distressed' underneath everything I'm doing, but today I'm like meh because that post yesterday took all day long, and I'm so worn out with the work and material that I'm kind of sick of it, lol. 😐😒☕
I'm sure they'll unsettle on the road. Long day in town today, temps already dropped 30 degrees in the last couple of hours, lots of big cold wind and and possible sleet, ice pellets, or freezing rain, depending on the weather service you check with.
Actually balanced to ye olde exact pennyage on my $$ sync today, first time in many moons. Calendar sync still on point. Had to move a couple of things already going on later in the month, but so far it's all good.
*Wo*, got hit from the Bermuda Triangle yesterday.
I've had so many hits from searches for Rick Lagina again lately from so many weird places that I am sworn to get all caught up again on Curse of Oak Island first thing after everyone else gets back into routine after New Year's. Concern about both his sex life and especially his demise have quintipled again, and I wanna see why. Apparently, someone in the Mayberry made for TV movie set area has concern about it as well.
Yesterday was day 2 on Bunny's tonsillectomy, so the suckage suckededed really bad. But I think she's about past that part now and will probably be up well into 2021 tonight.
Also yesterday I finally got the last of the kitchen flipping done. My mobile office of 4 1/2 years is no longer a campsite. The long term planning and execution around this took about 2 months, but it's a solid idea. I'll skip details (aspienado wants to include lengthy details, Pinky says no) and just say I wish I'd thought of this way sooner. Genius in slo-mo, as it were.
The only drawback is that @bonenado and I can now see each other across the house into other rooms as we are both on the internet, so I'm already tossing jokes out about making cubicles. It's weirding us out that we've lost our only privacy. This house has no hallways. To be able to sit somewhere in this house without looking up and seeing someone looking at you involves careful angle planning.
I've already lost my first resolution pound. GO ME!!! Yeah, not sure how, I ate ice cream last night. This year's motto is GO BIG OR FACEPLANT, so I'm shooting for the legendary 50 pounds thing. I did it in 2011 in only 4 months. What the hell, right? I've had 20 creep back on since then, and Pinky is putting a foot down and saying ohHELLno, so I guess we'll be seeing who's really the boss of me. We haven't really test driven this new emotionally healthy integrated Pinky personality into the wilds of menu planning yet, so this might get interesting.
My other big resolution (I made only two real ones) is to stop the f*@#G whining and get published, because several friends have been publishing all around me banging my head against the minecraft wall, and another year of that will have me self destructing onto a comedy stage or something.
I just told @bonenado not to throw a protective phone bag away because he's ruined me being the big recycler that holds stuff back in case we wanna sell it. I'm like are you crazy, have you looked up phone carry bags? I actually bought one the year we flew to Houston. It was ridiculously expensive. So he asked about starting an Amazon shop, I said I have no advice, just go do it because I either don't have the time or I'll own it and be the boss and you'll cry. He walked off muttering he wouldn't *cry*, he'd just hate me. I called out across our lengthy office space that if he's successful, I'll toss lots of stuff at him to sell. He said he'll be setting up a cubicle.
So we were out yesterday running around the state and stopped in at Osceola Cheese (picked up an aged swiss, mmmm), and it about knocked me over hearing a young hipster dad asking his 7 year old daughter if she preferred the apple wood smoked aged gruyere or the hickory smoked goat gouda. There's hope for Missouri yet. And she picked the gruyere, correctly enunciating the entire phrase back to her dad. *wow* I expect great things from that kid.
Seriously, they had just about everything except buffalo and donkey cheeses.
Hm. Just discovered I don't have enough eggs to whip up a yummy coconut cream pie for @bonenado. Deep regret reigns over us, for now we must venture forth again. Today is a big cooking day so I won't hafta cook again the rest of the long weekend. Queued in fridge is vension burger for meatloaf and chicken for BBQ, plus we've got chips for cheese and salsa dips and decided to blow the year out with ice cream before we really get serial about the last big challenge on the carb cutting thingy. Ice cream is our kryptonite.
Not sure if I'll be staying up for any kind of ball drop, but I had my party yesterday, and I'm good to go for 2017. Egads, I look like I have no hair at all... It's halfway down to my shoulder blades again and wildly staticky, so I tied it up and stuck a sock in its mouth like a big bad boss. I look like aspienado on drugs. Definitely not demure.
The smugglers rescued Holly's wayward present and got it to me yesterday (from Springfield to Springfield)
and once I had it I released the immigrants for some fresh air and light stretching. They were not pleased when I shoved them into fresh repack and through a stargate. I was not pleased when the gate tech dialed the wrong zip code.
So I'm keeping my eye on the probe sending telemetry back through the tracking system. They guaranteed 3 p.m. arrival. We'll see what happens. It hit me I might be breaking spacetime laws and if Holly gets caught in the flux, she might wind up in a cellular rewind and turn 29 again. Or 15. I have no idea how much that will freak Layla out, who I believe, incidentally, is a covert operative who frequently disappears on missions herself, so I might be crossing the wrong streams and creating havoc.
I couldn't help feeling yesterday that this isn't the greatest portent for my holiday slide going wildly out of control. It's typical that I start losing control in October, but this feels more like slamming around the log flume at Silver Dollar City than my time clock glitching out while the world blurs by. Maybe I'm just more aware of it this year, which would be a good thing, I would think.
We're getting Bunny in about an hour, so the rest of my day is allowed to go as chaotically off track as it wants, as long as the coffee and bacon work out.
I cannot get this song out of my head. It's been showing up periodically ever since that weird brazenly stupid day last month. I think I've about got the euphoria tied down to what triggers it, kinda funny actually. Anyway, I've gotta get the parts of my brain that still actually work ready for hours of busy Bunny day.
(This post turned out to be a sort of thought progression. I highly recommend daily blogging as a form of journaling. I've been doing it for years. It's nice to go back and be able to see where one stalls out or makes progress.)
Ok, so going back to bed was a mistake. =_+ Talk about identity issues.
So I was in a different house. Not unusual for a dream. I was me. My sister was herself. I rarely dream about her, but this is still not unusual. It was morning, she was up getting breakfast, I was still in bed. Still cool. Now let's skip everything else in my life, but just know that she and I last lived in the same house when she was 16.
Me and her. She was getting ready to go to school, I went back to bed after my coffee (which I did this morning, went back to bed after my coffee). I could hear her getting breakfast, no big deal, I was nearly back asleep. I suddenly wondered why she hadn't asked me if she could drive my car to school instead of ride the bus. (Scott drove my car in to work this morning because of the weather.) I got up to ask her if she wanted to take my car. Then I stopped and wondered why she didn't have her own car. Ah, weird dream logic, here we go.
So here comes the weird math. I started demanding to know why she didn't have her own car yet (neither one of us had cars at that age), because I knew I was at least ten years older than her because my kid was at least ten years old by now and I didn't have her until after I graduated, and I knew I graduated at 17. So 17+10=27 (I can do math in this dream, yay!), so I had to be at least 27 years old, so why didn't my sister have a car???
I wonder if that's what it's like when people wake up from comas. It was like everything in my life between now and high school had been erased, except for knowing I had a child (who now has her own child, actually). The dream abruptly ended when I found the keys. (I had left my keys out on the table for Scott this morning.) So I'm back up now feeling more irritated than rested.
I can't help feeling this little dream somehow came about in part from looking stuff like this up last night. No, that's not why I said I could do math in this dream. I usually can't even dial a phone number straight in my dreams, so I was really surprised when I woke up and thought "Wow, I actually did real math in that dream."
I might have been 27 when I met one of the authors of that paper I just linked. If you knew what that meant at all and what I went through yesterday, this dream would suddenly have a whole new world of meaning. Let's put some puzzle pieces together. Dreams are fun!
Part of my medical testing this week is to make sure I don't have anything ovarian related causing this really spiky weird pain. I have a solid family history of cancer and cysts galore. Ovarian cysts can cause a variety of crazy pains as swelling presses organs and nerves or ovaries get pushed around and twist things up. I'd already had a trans-vag ultrasound, but before I began the MRI yesterday, my tech wanted to make double sure I wasn't pregnant. Since my nerves go off so bad during MRIs, I spent a few minutes waiting for the result contemplating how suddenly joyful I felt that I could be pregnant, because it would mean I could leave without having the MRI. On the other hand, since I'm this old and was ablated about 18 months ago, there is no way this pregnancy could be allowed without going into full hysterectomy, even in a Catholic hospital. (I'm not Catholic, but Mercy is my fave medical system.)
I've written elsewhere about the double hormone crash supervised by three doctors and a psychologist that sent me spiraling through feeling 'crazy' for a couple of months several years ago and I couldn't tell what was 'real'. During that time I (as menopausal women often do, I'm told) my walls broke down around a really old secret that my psychologist validated was a forced abortion akin to a rape, or reverse rape. Even though I was in a clinic, I woke up from full sedation to find myself tied down and unable to get them to stop. I realize as I'm writing this that I have ever since been terrified of sedation, and MRIs apparently send me round a looney bin.
This is the first time I've ever been able to tie my intense claustrophobia during medical procedures to anything solid. I think I had subconsciously started to figure it out when that tech sprung a surprise pregnancy test on me before the MRI, and then last night out of the blue I started looking up this math stuff, and now that dream this morning.
27 is my magic number. It's the age I was before everything went wrong, when magic still sparkled and I was just starting to figure out my aspie way through social relationships. All my brain studying, all that left vs right, all that Spock vs SpongeBob, all that mysterious stuff in my head I am just now learning to put words to- how different would life have been if I'd been able to tell a topologist back then I can see all of that in my head since I was a child? I just don't know how to get it out. Remember how thrilled I was about finding other people obsessed with polychorons? I can only imagine how my life would have turned out if I could have shared that kind of stuff with my parents growing up. "I see weird shapes when I close my eyes, like a kaleidoscope." Yeah, they already thought I was plenty weird.
I'm trying to show you a spidroball but every time I paste the address it auto downloads, so here. It came from this page.
I'm ok. Well, at least emotionally. I don't know the test results yet. It has always taken me a very long time to process how I feel because of my Asperger's, so sometimes old stuff still pops up. Today I'm rather elated that I can finally nail this horrible claustrophobia to something real. Maybe I'll call my psychologist back up (he cut me loose last summer after 7 years) and see if this is something I can move forward on now. I would very much like to keep reducing my anxiety levels without meds. I've been medicated more than I'm comfortable with this week.
I love it when stuff clicks into place. Now it's time to GET TO WORK! Kinda behind in both my house and internet chores because of all the extra running this week. Yep, this is still my theme song.
Got another one about to break my all-time scare record, albeit in a slower and steadier pace, which is the kind of traffic I really like to see. I admit I've coddled a little trepidation about some of the honesty I'll be throwing at you guys soon, so it's comforting to see the weird stuff become the most popular.
This movie is for a dear lady who seems to dance with the dark patches- What happens when Death is audited? The book might be a little easier for Americans who are easily bored with British intellectual humor that enjoys developing itself without explosions, something I had to learn to adapt to myself *cough* but this literary joy is totally worth it in either form.
And these for for the toughest chick I know besides me for whom 'frivolity' could entail extreme distraction in the same venue as extreme sports. Not sure how else to throw out a little thank you for letting me dump the gritty stuff all over her nice clean messaging.
I am currently grinding my life through a 90 degree turn and setting up all kinds of scheduling. This is my personal nonstop theme song while I'm dealing with stuff- have probably run it a hundred times in the last 24 hours, kinda like jacking youtube codeine into my aspie brain or something.
If I recluse I'll probably be writing like a bat outa hell and ignoring notifications, but my severe lack of phone twitter is already numbing us all up anyway, so no probs there.
