More major plan executing going on. Dropped off some stuff in a Convoy of Hope bin while I was out yesterday. Have some other stuff pulled together for Safe to Sleep. Good ways to clean out my house. Someone said "Sharing is caring" in chat convo on the game server the other night, cracked me up. It was unrelated, immediately put a Care Bears song in my head. It's all fake on server, but even there some people think it's all about accumulation and wealth. Just because you hand over your last digital loaf of bread to another player on their last half heart tic doesn't make the kindness any less real.
So far I've gotten more done in the last 2 1/2 days than I feel like I accomplished in the last 2 1/2 months, if you don't count regular cleaning, cooking, and running errands. Things I've been putting off are magically poofing into all the right places in the spacetime continuum, including phone calls and fixits. I ran into a little buried sack with brand new Christmas ornaments in it for Bunny's tree, never even noticed we lost it. We were so worn out long before Christmas even got here, it seems like folly now to have wasted that money.
And now I'm in lag, lol. Time to let my brain fall out and move like a snail again while I gather my little storm for the next plan execution surge.
you get far enough down 'thanksgiving walking dead meme' in google search, you forget why you were even there
I got lost in that search last night before I caved and went to bed. I think I'd go to sleep faster with a brain chip letting me mindlessly cruise nonsense.
So last week today I was 203 pounds and super calm before surgery. Within 24 hours I'd zoomed up to 215 on IV fluids and whatever my body started hoarding because it must've thought I'd been attacked by ice picks and had a piece of me stolen slick as slick. That was a little alarming so I looked it up, guess it's common to do that with surgeries, basically just take good care of yourself and let the fluids sort themselves back out. Today I am down to 206, which is fantastic compared to some people in the med forums, and apparently means my kidneys are in great shape chugging it out, yay! And that is why you wanna take care of your kidneys, people.
Another thing I learned, since I'm not a surgery queen and usually stick to the more mundane whiny chronic stuff, is that an ileum is about the last thing to come out of the whole knocked out stupor, and everything trying to leave ahead of it is like the worst traffic pileup you ever saw. I wasn't given after care instructions on anything diet or digestive except start slow and eat what I want. By day 4 I was becoming an expert on looking all the things up, and after all the stuff I've read from every point of view imaginable, it really doesn't matter a hill of beans what you eat and you should always have a bottle of milk of magnesia on hand anyway. Softeners and hydrating didn't work at all, moving around more while slacking off on pain meds backfired into every conceivable regret, all the correct food in the world can't make a difference if it's at the back of the line, and probably the only thing I'll do next time I have surgery is stick to clear fluids the last 12 hours or something. At any rate, we're all very happy now. If you've got a friend or family member going through surgery and don't know what to do for them, trust me, a bottle of milk of magnesia is pretty wonderful and will make you the hero.
And then of course, I just started typing in whatever question popped into my head into the search bar. How long do my incisions hurt after gallbladder surgery? Hundreds, maybe even thousands of people had asked the same thing. Some people hurt for weeks when they sneeze or move wrong or sit too long, so grain of salt, I'm keeping in mind that I got stabbed by ice picks and there are lots of little nerve endings in skin and the tissues underneath because being able to feel stabs kept our ancestors alive longer and they probably fought back, ducked and dodged, or ran for cover while I was knocked unconscious and purposely stabbed under some big lights. That stab memory will probably always be there locked in the tissues now, and it'll just become part of my overall nerve pain disorder if it becomes bothersome. Other people yapping about weeks later sneezing took a big load off my mind. It's easy to imagine the worst when someone else pokes a hole in you.
And I got to thinking, it's funny that people will let their gallbladders go defcon and become emergencies while they ignore them, but then fret over ever little sensation while they heal after surgery. Humans are weird.
Bottom line, if you're not taking good care of yourself before the surgeries start rolling in, don't expect to heal on demand kind of thing. And the opposite is true, too, ran into a lot of people getting back to their workouts too quickly and winding up back in surgeries to fix rips in what wasn't done healing yet. Y'all need to chill. Just because you think your body should such and such in your mind doesn't mean you're the boss of reality. Just because people are going back to work in 3 days or a week doesn't mean everything super healed super fast and you're a chump because you can't live up to a rumor standard. As far as I can tell, it all sucks, we all suffer, and it all takes time.
When I was in ER earlier this year, hanging out for a few hours in the waiting room, there was a guy dripping blood down his arm who had managed to elude everyone and went straight to the public coffee cart. I was mind numb with pain in a wheelchair after an ambulance ride, still waiting to get triaged, everyone around me pulling back from this guy and I'm parked right there. I just smiled and said You need to keep pressure on that. I mean, crazy or not, I'm probably crazier, so who cares. He got bashful trying to cover the blood dripping and getting coffee at the same time, evidently priorities are a problem in his brain, and he said he pulled his IV out. I laughed and said It's not like TV is it? I did that once, ripped it out in a bathroom, blood everywhere like the zombie apocalypse. And then everyone around us started relaxing and people finally found the guy and got him to the police desk to get his arm bandaged, and someone else cleaned up. I cleaned in hospital one year, I had no problem with that blood. I am OSHA trained and cleaned stat contagion many times all over the hospital. I was also the only one who talked to that man like a human being. The rest was just funny to me, but I thought that part was sad.
Around Thanksgiving, Americans make big deals about going to homeless shelters and feeding people. There were plenty of people in need around me in that hospital waiting room. One woman was clearly homeless but very organized. She had a travel case with wheels and a couple old pillows tucked into the pull out handle. Everything she needed was in that bag, including a book. I take a bug out bag with me nearly everywhere I go, too. I feel safer when I have all my little comforts with me if I wind up stuck some place waiting for something, like having my car worked on. When pre-triage came out to get her vitals, she clearly stated she was there because it hurt to pee, and apparently knew how to get help about it, was probably the best behaved person in the whole waiting room because she knew how to stay out of trouble. Conveniently, it was also better than being outside in the cold. I'm sure she knows every public area open through the night all over town. On my own really bad days when I can't stand being alone, I take my bug out bag and go hang out at the library or the hospital, some place big where I can move around a bit and still have facilities and people around me. I used to hang out at the airport when I was younger. I don't think I'm alone doing that. I think a lot of people hang out all over town like that. Some people go shopping and don't realize they're using the excuse to be doing something when they really just want to not be alone. When I retailed, there were customers who knew the store better than we did.
If you don't know what to do with yourself or your life and you want to be helpful, go hang out at a hospital on a holiday. Just move around from one waiting area to another, check out the coffee shops and gift shops, notice the families camping out around births and deaths and horrible accidents and cancers and stuff. And then go check out the opportunities board and ask about volunteer positions. Volunteers are awesome in big buildings. They train you to help move patients in wheelchairs after check in, or answer questions at a desk, or other stuff. A lot of places have volunteer programs. You don't have to just do it on holidays and twiddle your thumbs the rest of the year.
This meme cracks me up because I saw someone actually do this on a minecraft server, just purposely dump a lot of leveled up diamond armor and weapons into a deep ocean after a bad day. Sometimes you let go of the material stuff and just enjoy the game.
click for diamond memes
I've got Bunny tomorrow while her mama works, and Papa's work is having an employee cookout, so I think me and Bunny are going to try making shortbread cookies. I'm stuck with gluten free flour and no xantham gum, and it hit me that shortbread might be the ticket. There are no eggs or leavening, just 3 basic ingredients, and from there I can add gingerbread spices or melt chocolate chips into butter or whatever, and we can do cut outs and colored pinwheels, and I also found a shortbread spritz, so we can get the cookie press out, too. I haven't had a real cookie day from scratch in a long time, and I think tomorrow will be a really good day for that.
I've also been getting my own Turkey Day menu assembled, getting that cooked up today so I'll be out of the way tomorrow. I'm making cornish hens with homemade herbed biscuit and cornbread stuffing (yes, all gluten free, super allergic to wheat), a mashed tato and steamed broccoli. I'm going to record Macy's parade on Thursday in case Bunny misses the balloons, because she's high energy and will probably be too excited to be that patient. I stopped my pain pills so I could save one for tomorrow and one for Turkey Day, so today I'm having a little bit of a withdrawal headache, but I'll be ok. Me and opioids probably go back through several lifetimes, I'm pure addict on those, and have mentioned my love for vicoden in the past outweighing my love for anything and anybody else. If you know someone who has quit drinking or doing drugs/meds over the holidays, please be kind and gentle with them. They won't be feeling well because it's a real bitch dealing through that thick haze of suck, and it takes awhile to get through it. I still crave every single day and it's been at least 25 years since I quite drinking and smoking, plus here I am back on an opioid for surgery and doing low dose xanax this year staying mood stable (I check in regularly with both psychologist and psychiatrist). Holidays are very stressful. If you're stressed out, then you know the person in withdrawal is very stressed out, too. Not the best time to talk politics and religion. If you can't just enjoy your family over a nice meal, maybe make other plans that are healthier for your mental and emotional function.
Sorry so wordy, this might be my last chance to hang out on Pinky blog for awhile. Not sure how the rest of the week is going to go.
Love you guys. All my people. You know who you are. 💕
Crazy weekend smashing junk around but I think we're making it. I seem to be past the worst of pain med withdrawal, got a little unreal for awhile earlier today. I can't express enough how serious a problem that is for people like me who spend like 2 chronic spoonie decades surviving med addictions and withdrawals, especially after meds have impacted organs. My liver has been the star of my medical history for about 15 years, more notations have been made on it than anything else in my body, and I'm not even a drinker.
I planned the tree getting set up this weekend way ahead of time, so I got that on track this morning when I was able and Papa was awesome with Bunny getting it up. It's the old easy tree, prelit and only 3 pieces to put together, and Bunny is big enough to do the decorating herself now. We can keep adding colorful candy canes and tinsel as we get closer to Santa. We've come a long way from the winter an undecorated tree sat there for several weeks through the entire holiday while Bunny's mama was in another hospital across the state for complications, same surgery I just had. That was 11 years ago.
I think Bunny just had her 3rd basketball game this weekend. Heard she tackled a little boy to keep him from getting the ball, lol. 😁 Has made a few baskets here and there, so she's getting the hang of it.
I'm barely aware of time flow, being so medicated, but ran across a couple of difficulties others are having. Brianne's family lost their home and everything they had this week to a fire while they were out of town. If readers know her from the #Snarkalecs or other groups on twitter and facebook and are wondering what to do for a holiday charity, there you go right there. I don't know if she'll be available for DMs like where to send gift cards, and I'm still waiting on a link for a fund page, but don't let me being goofy on meds after surgery stop you from being awesome, ok? And if I get more info I'll come back and link it here. Ok, here is thefund page. I've known Brianne for several years, huge Stargate fan, loves teaching, had the coolest Stargate wedding on live facebook and her kids were part of it, thought it was pretty special that she included her media friends in that. She's a bright light in this world, so like I said, if you're looking for a charity, she's needing our help right now. 💕
I'm still floaty but I think I can hang in there for #latenightmovie tonight in the chat room at SyfyDesigns with @LNMGang around 11ish pm eastern time. 🍿
A couple of days ago I mentioned a big hard day out with Bunny, and then on twitter yesterday I said pix coming, and here we go, after I say a couple things again.
I got a little lecture-y in that mention post about tears for a commercial. That commercial was a concocted fictional story designed to yank your chains so you'd spend money (with a nice cover agenda), and apparently it was a wild success. I've already done my crying, thank you. After going through being DPOA for my own parent in a nursing home for 5 years, I think that ad sucks because a little wave from a very long distance without a single word or touch is still pretty lame. An aging population not being 'visited' by family probably means there are some pretty full plates out there, and thank goodness there are programs and facilities in place to help us care for our aging parents.
What I'm about to show you is real life, and in the mention post I said I shut off my feels so I could handle the hard. Before we get started you need to understand why I said that. We have lots of experience in our family. My sister's oldest daughter grew up in and out of hospitals and finally died in one, and then she nearly lost her only other child several years later after a car hit her in a crosswalk and they reconstructed her leg (nearly lost it) and got her through some pretty sucky head trauma. Our Bunny's mama had a very terrible experience herself in a hospital and had to be transported across the state after a surgery accident, and she and @bonenado were there through Christmas with Sploit and I not knowing if they'd both make it home, so that was a sucky holiday for sure. I've visited the Cystic Fibrosis wing in a research/college hospital a couple of times, full of kids who get dropped off by parents for routine yearly 2-week 'maintenance' or more imminent needs and testing. For someone who's never actually been admitted to a hospital despite having heart surgery (outpatient, believe it or not) and the plethora of miseries I've suffered (including a really bad car accident), I'm very familiar and even comfortable in them because I visit them so much. I even say in Explaining Depression- "If I had the stamina, I'd be volunteering at one of the hospitals, because I love hospitals and feel safe there. I've spent so much time in hospitals hanging out with other people that they feel like home to me, even though I've never been hospitalized myself." By the way, I don't watch hospital shows on TV. My fave part to hate on in hospital room scenes is the character ripping or taking the IV out without any blood spurting around or even applying pressure or covering up that spot, and then just walking right out. I once accidentally tore an IV out and blood so thoroughly shot all over the room and everything in it that I felt like I was the star in a horror film. What is the point of realistic filming if IV scenes are so blown off, yea verily.
Just a quickie for people still feeling teary-eyed or even guilty over the 'man on the moon' ad- take a book, take your knitting or ipad, pack nibblies in a lunchbox, pack activities for kids, and plan on hanging out for awhile when you go visit old people in their home or care facility. You don't have to talk and make eye contact that whole time (it's hard for some older people to talk anyway), you don't have to 'do stuff' for them, just show up and hang around, take a break and walk around, eat in the cafeteria with them (or by their bedside), and when you say goodbye, just say you'll try to come back soon. Very simple, no pressure. If you think you'll have a hard time, take xanax or something before you go. I had a very hard time with it. I actually fled the building a few times feeling very sick. Make yourself psychologically comfortable with a little help (don't go in drunk, guys), and just be yourself hanging out. My mom's care facility had a resident cat that creeped the hallways and visited all the rooms, and a bird cage, and a fenced 'back yard' with a bench and a big tree, and even a small lending library with books and magazines (another idea for charity- donate books and magazines to nursing homes!!!), and a giant fish tank. If you're stuck for a charity idea this year, go poke around a local nursing home. And take socks.
Ok, back to Bunny. I haven't been saying much, but we've been watching a little problem for several months, and now we're going through steps making sure other bigger problems aren't going on. She's ok. Not out of the woods yet, but passed one of the bigger tests with flying colors.
Things are so different nowadays. When I was a kid, medical tests in a hospital were way more traumatic. Kids were treated very differently, barked at to behave, and then parents were frowned on if the kids were nervous or afraid. I was a screamer (#aspienado), but I also had a very controlling parent, so when I had a barium enema at around 5 or 6 years old, I did what I was told but the trauma was almost inexcusable, and I certainly wasn't reassured in any form before, during, or after. (Bunny had a different test, but still invasive.)
having a toy to bite on while waiting is good
Bunny's experience was very different. She was allowed to be a real person, spoken to like a real person, given time to process and understand requests, and was handled by empathetic adults all around. The tech told Bunny's mama she was the quietest 2 year old they'd ever had (as in not screamy) and I believe the reason is because she trusts her mama so completely. Circus baby (yowza, that post looks like it's been invaded with viral ads or something) is one example of a full blown ADHD person raising a full blown ADHD baby. We are strong advocates for neurodiversity (I have Aspergers) and it shows in how well Bunny behaves in new and sometimes scary situations.
As scary as medical stuff is (I have outstanding anxiety around MRIs and stuff), nowadays we are surrounded, for the most part, by people who are much more empathetic and very well trained, and all the stuff we go through is to make sure we can be as healthy as possible, no matter what is going on with us.
The waiting room is hard, too. I brought stuff to do, but I got a little silly. If I hadn't been on the very edge of my phone plan, I probably would've been tweeting. I was surprised how quickly they got done, and next thing you know, there's a Bunny telling me c'mon, let's go.
She even got a little baby to take with her. No one ever gave me a little baby after stuff like that when I was a kid.
The best part about hospitals nowadays is gift shops and coffee shops and places to hang out that feel more like a mall or something. I know it's hard for some parents to allow a child to feel like they have some control in public situations, especially if you're not sure what they'll do, but I've become very comfortable with 'busy' little people. You just hafta get in busy gear along with them and keep up. Once they own their space, they get over stuff real fast.
Grampa couldn't be there, but we knew he'd have picked out this penguin. He really likes penguins.
Second breakfast, like a Hobbit. I heard she ate 2 pancakes before I picked them up, and now look at her go! (Even during a tooth coming in, wow.) Big stuff makes a person hungry. Hospital cafeterias rock, I don't care what anyone says. I've eaten many meals in 'canteen'.
And then it all catches up and we get tired.
That penguin looks like a second child.
The older doctor who ordered this test was very kind, like a grampa doctor, but he had ordered sedation for this test, which would have required driving to the university hospital in Columbia. @bonenado and I were all for this plan after the traumas we've been through as kids during medical testing and stuff. However, Bunny's mama talked to a nurse who does this test all day on kids and she advised against sedation for several reasons (sedation complications outweighing trauma problems), and after being told she'd be allowed in, went ahead and scheduled for local, which would be much less stressful for her because work and other things. After listening to her research and knowing she'd be there where Bunny could see her and know her mama would see what she's going through (since a child that young can't verbalize and communicate fear later when memories come up), I was ok with it, too, and tagged along for support. I really and truly believe the worst things adults do to children is tell them to shut up or be still during fear and nerves, and then not walk them through the emotional process. I touched base a little about how shut down I was as a child and what I'm still working on with a psychologist in hybrid- how robots go on. I think a lot of adults around my age range are having midlife crises because of traumas they never effectively or successfully processed as children, and that leads to feeling helpless and powerless as adults and consequently making bigger emotional demands on other adults, leading to divorces and all kinds of other things. We are all broken.
I am very proud of my Twink (Bunny's mama) for being so patient with her kiddo and making the world better for her. It actually turned out to be a good day. This is me taking them to the back side of the parking lot because I got the closer spot.
After that we split up, and now I have other pix.
Despite going through one of the most brilliant and longest lasting autumns we've had in years, I've gotten very few pictures, after years of being obsessed with photographing autumn. So I grabbed a shot while I was driving, lol. Now I don't feel like I missed autumn. I made a much bigger deal about it last year.
A guy @bonenado works with makes wine, and this is made from my sister's blueberry field.
I really miss being able to tweet pix from my phone, I used to do that a lot. @bonenado and I got a rare day out yesterday, went to town super early and hung out piddling and running errands for a few hours. He's a big Hot Wheels collector, so I wind up looking through them, too, and I can't get over how silly the licensing has gotten. Really? Can you imagine Lexx Hot Wheels? I mean, at this point, I'd love to see anything merched with Lexx on it, it would mean something's actually happening with the property. Oh, well.
Then we wandered around several Christmas shops in the stores we visited. This one would be perfect for #latenightmovie gang.
And this is just cute.
No, we didn't buy any new ornaments. EXCEPT. We found a matching robot, so now we have a @bonenado robot to go with Pinky robot that we found a few years ago.
I know some of you really hate early Christmas music. After YEARS of refusing to even listen to Christmas music, I'm finally in a little bit of a mood again. Still twisted, but it's kinda back.
People used to call this 'going on a tear'. @bonenado fears me when I clean house like this. He dredges back through the trash rescuing junk behind my back, and then we discover it all over again in the basement months or years later, and then we argue about throwing it away vs recycling vs yard sale vs giving away until I'm nearly insane.
The generation before us never throws stuff away. His mom once tried to give us our own humidifier back after it had sat so long in a garage closet that it was gross, but all we had to do was 'clean it up'. Really? $15 bucks will get me a brand new one that I don't have to labor intensely over and is probably a whole lot healthier. But my dad is like that, too, and nearly everyone else we run into their age. Sometimes that's a good thing, oftentimes not really.
I'm on a tear. I'm tired of junk. I've been on tears before, making @bonenado haul ancient dilapidated antique furniture off to dismantle and burn, so it's not like we're up to our eyeballs in stuff, but I'm really tired of being up to my knees. I'm a minimalist.
My grandmother on my mother's side had beautiful collections, like bells and stuff. She owned a genuine squash blossom jewelry set worth nearly a thousand dollars (I know because my mom had it priced and then sold it many years ago, probably worth much more now). (Check this for context.) She lived in a small house, but she had beautiful things.
I like beautiful things. I grew up knowing what nice things are. But in the end, if you're not looking at them, using them, or giving them as gifts, they are a complete waste to me. So what if you've got something awesome sitting in a drawer or a closet for 20 years. So what if you've got something delightful in a safe or a special cupboard that you get out only once a year.
I tell this story sometimes. A previous next door neighbor and his wife were retired and pretty well off. They traveled extensively, were very crafty and created beautiful things like hand carved wooden ducks and paintings. They threw big parties for the subdivision every Christmas. I remember her coming in to my store and me helping her check out, personally wrapping every single dish in a 120 dish set worth hundreds while she prattled on about the big party she was planning (we were next door and rarely invited), and then personally helped her get it all into her car.
They were stunning dishes. That was a fabulous party, lots of imported food and expensive wine, nice cars parked all up and down our street and almost on our lawn. She bubbled excitedly about the planning before and the party afterward, which I hadn't been able to see personally since we weren't invited. It never occurred to her how awkward that might be for me.
It was their last party. He had severe COPD, and she would be alone after years of plastic surgeries and fun vacations. By the next year the property went up for auction, and I watched the neighbors gather round like greedy vultures. I watched that entire nearly brand new used only once set of very expensive dishes get snapped up slanderously cheap, along with all their other possessions. She moved into assisted living, and another year later had already passed from pneumonia complications, a common problem in older people who don't or can't get up and move around. She was mobile and healthy when she went to assisted living, so it was a little shocking that she died so quickly, but not a surprise.
They didn't have children, or grandchildren. She didn't get visitors. All those parties, and she was forgotten so quickly.
I will take the mess and chaos of family any day over a nice and beautiful life of wealth and luxury. There is nothing sadder than being alone in a beautiful house full of beautiful things, surrounded by neighbors waiting for you to let it all go so they can pounce on it.
My mother gave nearly everything away before she died, insisting on anyone who was willing to go ahead and carry the junk out of her house. Some of the junk was actually pretty cool. I've got three paintings a great-aunt did, and a couple of other things. My only request when my mom died was that I get her bible. All I ever wanted back when my grandmother died was a ceramic piece I made in middle school for 4-H, and another family member grabbed it, not even knowing I'd made it. It wasn't even worth anything, just something that turned out nice enough to give her on her birthday or something. My mom made me do that. I didn't get to keep my own thing I made. I feel an evil smugness sometimes wondering if the person who wound up with it thought it was worth something, but then I feel sad when I think it's in someone else's house, and by now has probably been through a yard sale after another person died. But then I realize if I actually still had it, would I even care? It would be part of the junk that has piled up in my own life.
It's all junk. Wanting things is all a waste. It piles up until no one knows what to do with it, recirculates until no one knows who had what to begin with. Things are so important. They mean more to us sometimes than people do. We hold onto treasures and keep them in dark places, like drawers and closets, while our relationships and lives rot away. Or we keep them out on shelves like little treasure museums. I know a woman who owns nearly every single Precious Moments figurine ever made. I've been to the Precious Moments museum in Carthage, it's pretty awesome. If you ever go, the restaurant there is 5 star, if they still have that.
I started letting go of everything years ago. I still have a couple of photo albums, a piece of nice furniture I helped refinish by hand, a few odds and ends that really aren't worth anything but I know will come back to haunt me if I toss them into the trash too quickly. What I have is sox. Lots and lots of sox. Sox are useful. When I'm gone, people can fight over my sox, and it won't matter if they sit in a drawer, because sox are supposed to do that. The stuff in my head is so much more important than pretty dishes and nice furniture and hanging on to all the stuff that has stacked up in my life. Sometimes I sneak sacks of trash to town to drop off in a big bin by a store. No one misses a single thing I throw away.
I can't help laughing inside at how many people reading this might be shocked that I don't give the sacks away to charity, at the very least. I have given so much stuff away in my life. Piles and piles of clothes, appliances out of my house, we've even given a couple of people vehicles. All I want to do is clear the junk out of my house. the night was smashy
I'm on a tear. This is the year everything has been changing. The soul dredging, the house dredging, the blog dredging... I have no idea what's next, but I do know I'm done with junk. I don't collect anything that costs money. I don't buy stuff to assuage my sorrowful soul. My dad wanted a closed casket funeral for my mom, but he didn't (couldn't) stop the kids from opening it up and letting grandkids pile their stuffed animals and notes in before the service was over and she was lowered into the earth. That was the most beautiful funeral I ever attended, very simple and very heartfelt.
My mother left this earth with nearly nothing and was so loved. My neighbor left with all the things at her fingertips and was so forgotten.
When I go, I hope my life makes people think about donating to shelters and stuff. I'm always talking about sox. Sox are important. Words and feelings are important, too, so I keep saying my stuff, but it's important to notice and be kind to people who are having a hard time. I've been brainwashing you guys to remember things every time you see novelty footwear and pink athletic shoes. I'm training you guys to think about deeper things than what you want to buy, what you don't own yet and wish you did, and what will mean nothing to you in the end, although it's probably a sure way to draw the vultures in so you'll at least have someone around for a bit.
Sox. I know it's a joke to give people sox for Christmas, but seriously, look around and donate some sox.
Sox are all the rage right now. If you know someone (a church, perhaps) getting boxes ready for military personnel, or see a collection bin for a local shelter, or hear about houses burning down on the news (happens a lot in winter), just anything really, and you want to help and don't really know what to do besides a can of food, keep an eye out for big packages of clearance sox or special BOGOs, or even just set a pair aside out of every batch you buy for yourself, right? Everyone needs socks.
And you can do something fun with them, like fill new socks with little toys or candies (check for food allergies and illness first, lotta juvenile diabetes out there), or make sock wreaths as part of a 'housewarming' for people who move out of abusive situations into shelters. Socks are pretty magical. You can poke holes and make gloves out of them, use them to clean (great for dusting and animal hair, and they wash up so easily), store or hide stuff in them, put over baby bottles to keep formula warm, hand puppets for bored kiddos, and on and on. I've even carried pencils in a sock when I didn't have anything else to put them in. Some people put baby sox on their pets and big sox over their boots when they go out into the snow, which is a good idea because it helps prevent falls in older or disabled people. I'm sure you guys can think of tons of other stuff to do with sox.
I have a nephew on the way who has already been named Rogue. Pinky approves. My first thought was Rogue Leader, since the wedding pictures have light sabers in them, but apparently it's something else. At any rate, I come from rogue parents, so it seems natural to me. I'm a rule changer, an over the line stepper, forging awkwardly ahead at all the wrong moments, and winding up in all the right and wrong places in synchronous nicks of time.
I've mentioned a few times that we're living on an edge of not knowing if and when our lives will drastically change without a lot of warning. @bonenado's work place has been on the market for a couple of years, and just recently one of the bids dropped out, leaving another bid to surge forward into finalizing paperwork IF an agreement is reached. We've managed to stay pretty calm through two years of what if with a new Bunny tossed into the mix for laughs. By the way, she's pretty awesome distraction.
I had a feeling we might be getting close, so I got my fees paid through the spring and am spending the summer paying for badly needed new glasses, restocked shoes and underwear, and now I'm focusing on clearing out my hard drive in preparation for the inevitable crash, now that my warranty and protection plans have officially expired. Our phone plans expired a long time ago, and we're not upgrading until we know how much our budget will get chopped. The last car and furniture payments are close to done, too, so we're on point with the when-the-ship-sinks Plan.
I don't like stressing out. I'm a denier. I block out and shut down and focus on the next meal, and if the stress gets through to my brain, I clean house like a banshee. I'm not afraid of being broke or poor, God knows how I literally starved and slept on floors or in a car in my younger days, and I even washed diapers in a bathtub for two months. I'm really good at spartan living, a natural Bohemian.
BUT. As tight as my own money belt already is, I have become accustomed to heavily using tech as a coping mechanism. I don't drink, I'm not on meds, I don't have friends in real life, I don't see family because we live so far apart- I'm alone. I spend 10-12 hours a day sometimes 6 days a week alone. My neighbors are usually gone, everything outside is toxic because super allergies, and tech is my only connection to other people. I don't even have a landline to call 9-1-1.
If my tech goes out, I may have to float a couple months or more before I reconnect. I'm crossing every phalange on my body that it doesn't come to that. I'm hoping that the rest of the summer is a productive spurt of me super organizing all my projects to help me calmly stay in denial. If I can't deal, I'ma try to stay off twitter because the last thing I want is my TL turning into a dump zone.
One of my disclaimers on some of my blogs is "I will never ask for or accept donations to keep this site going. Ever." I will respect my online friends a lot more if you do NOT try to help me. I see a lot of places on the webs asking for donations for everything from genuine local charities to a broad vague variety of entertainments. If you feel the need to give money away, please help pay for sick children's cancer treatments or lung transplants.
The reason I'm writing this post is 1) simple documention, this is a journal of sorts, and 2) I've mentioned a few times that I intend to never completely disappear off the internet again like I've done in the past, and if I do, that's how you know I died. Well, I don't want my friends thinking I died. I've got a few phone numbers, if my tech crashes while we're in limbo I'll have a couple twitter friends help me stay in contact or tweet links or something.
In the meantime, I'll keep popping out on twitter and facebook and keep writing and do my best to pretend none of this is happening while I go OCD all over my house and hard drive. Not worried, just antsy. It's all good. Distraction and staying busy is key.
