Let's See, Where Were We?

In the midst of studying, prospecting, marketing, and growing  a ton of other things have happened and / or passed over my field of vision. The picnic actually happened before the new career opportunity and I've planted my behind in the chair to write about it . . . but haven't been able quite articulate my still quite ambivalent feelings.

I will say this: at least one cousin wore a "a family that prays together stays together" tee shirt. It was quite the pleasant surprise to see my Aunt Ann and my cousin Carolyn. And it was quite disappointing that the in memoriam segment didn't occur. And even though I was ambivalent about that as well, I did bring the photo as requested. The photo I brought (and others beyond) were given to younger brother.

The above aside, I'm struck in a variety of ways by a variety of events and thoughts in the past several days since our last gathering. And they are, in no particular order:

A. Daughter, who weeks ago re-connected with her father (he had a stroke several years ago and after bumping around from one family member to another, from one state to another, landed in a rehabilitation / nursing facility in Greenwood, MS) went to visit him (and the arm of his / her family in Mississippi) this weekend past. The visit was good in one regard, not so much in another. Still processing.

B. Pepsi flavored Cheetos are apparently all the rage in Japan.  To which I say, EWWW

C. I'm battling a cold. I no longer feverish, but still not tip-top. A friend is also battling and wrote quite an eloquent post relative to the subject. I don't have her brand of being held in mom's bosom (so to speak) during childhood sickness, ours was quite the different household and dynamics---but there were some instances of receiving mom's full, un-divided attention. The memories of those instances are sweet.

D. Due to being sick, and the busyness of work related activities I'm a bit behind on the news and so only recently caught wind of the MONTANA COURT  ruling. I'm quite incensed over the entire episode and culture.

E. And speaking of being incensed....Syria...really? REALLY??? I get the sense that nations are channeling Tina.  Further, I get a sense of dread. ::sigh::

F. And speaking of dread---really Auntie Flo?? REALLY!!!!!!??? I am fifty fracking three!!!  I know, I know, many have gone well beyond that number. But, "shit, fuck, piss!!" as another friend often retorts ENOUGH already.  

G. I know I'm not one to speak, but I miss bloggers. I miss the community. I miss my friends. Oh sure, some (most, in fact) hang out on FB but it is simply not the same. No promises or declarations but I'm striving to be more active with this platform. I still have those sketches  to finish, I even bought a new sketch book, so as I say, no promises. But, well, yeah. . .

H. My former boss has continued to call and email. I must continue to ignore him. I cannot afford to be pulled back into his sort of . . . miasma.

I. Did you know later this month marks a year since Cinnamon came into our world?   On the flip side, the 6th will mark the first anniversary of my dad's death  and the twelfth, D-dog's passing.  All quite  heavily on my mind, heart.

J. And while there is much, much more that has gone on and IS going on I'll end here, except to add that the other night I had a dream. I'm struck (again) by remembering even the part I remember for, if you recall, I don't usually remember my dreams and if I do, only snippets filter to the surface. This snippet: I was walking down a street, dressed in my professional business black slacks and black jacket. An older man, he reminded me of an actor whose name and pedigree has alluded me, but think: a cross between Burt Young and Richard Farnsworth started following me eventually asking if I had a couple bucks so he could get something to eat. I then, against ALL my city wits and conventional wisdom, stopped to pull my wallet from my bag, opened it with the plan to peel off a couple of buck . . .    The older man took my wallet. I screamed. He turned and half ran, half limped away. I continued to scream but got myself together enough to chase (I mean he WAS half running and MOSTLY limping ) him intending to . . . not quite tackle him, but certainly, get my shit back.  Except, I couldn't catch him. WTF??  It was like some weird super slo-mo, non action . . . something. I was thrashing about in bead, screaming in my head, running the litany of what was in the wallet, the hassle of replacing stuff and the like. I woke with a monstrous headache and a sense of extreme dread . . . crying because it felt so real then I snapped to. . it was just. a. dream. 

And now, having said that, I can't end it there. I am going to end this episode with: WAY TO GO DIANA!!!

She said:
One: We should never give up.
Two: You're never too old to chase your dream
Three: It looks like a solitary sport, but it is a team.   (Swimming & life--I'm deciding).


See you in a few.

 

Bite Me, No...Wait.

The story alluded to in the earlier post isn't written. It may be written at some point, but can't be written now.

There was a beginning, or rather, the workings of a beginning but it hasn't gone much further. Yet.

And perhaps it won't. Like I said before, I can't think. I'm not drinking today, but still, I can't think. That is to say that I'm having trouble thinking beyond the here and now. And what is here and now is work. jobs. sales. finances. and yes, eating. drinking. and too, having the where-with-all to be some kind of merry. Not to mention the where-with-all to maintain hearth and home.

For the moment, a personal impending crisis been averted. I can't go further than that because it feels . . .well, I'm still somewhat . . . wow. Still, as distressing as the prospective news was, it wasn't devastating. It could have been worse. And it may be at some point, but for now, I'm breathing a tad bit easier today than I was the other.

In other news, I haven't had any potato chips in since just before I turned fifty. Oh sure, that may not big news to you, but to me? It's gi-norm-us.


*click the pic h/t

Sing With Me, Dance With Me

Sleep, has been hard to reach and harder to hold these past few weeks. For a bit I thought it was the excitement of turning half a hundred. And while that may have been part of it, there are other factors as well, I've come to speculate.

One glaring factor, I'm reasonably certain, is that dagnabbit change o' life crapola. Those heat spurts that I didn't experience through much of my forties and which began as slow burns are now hot. flashing. in every sense of those words. I'm reasonably certain I'm drinking much too much beer, but water (even icy) just ain't gettin' it done.

This new state of affairs will require a bit of study and more adjusting.

Still, the heat and said effects are only partly at issue. I think. Also in play, close the door. let me rub your back when you say it's sore, come on get closer and closer, so close to me baby, let's get lost in each other, come here baby*

Or rather, ahem..

Not, mind you that there is anyone (at present) with whom to explore, experience, explo . . . well, you get the idea. But, the heat, so to speak, full on. Is that a fifties thing? Anyhoo . .

I am also experiencing a bit of a crush. It won't go anywhere, has no where to go, but at the moment, said crush is getting me going, if you feel me as the (well, some) kids say.

In the meantime, turn off the lights, and light a candle, tonight I'm in a romantic mood. Let's take a shower, shower together, I'll wash your body, you'll wash mine. Rub me down in some hot oils baby, and I'll do the same thing to you. . .* ahem..

In the meantime. Ice. Cold. Relief. Please. Thanks.

*lyrics from T. Pendergrass (Close the Door & Turn Off The Lights)

Her Name

A friend asked Ellen DeG to give me a wake-up call. She did and I was tickled pink. Thanks friend.

I, in turn, asked Ellen DeG to call Neta (and a couple of others). Ellen DeG had a problem with my request for a call to Neta. "I'm sorry, I cannot say that name." I was given the option to have the call made without a name (boooo) or choose another name. Well, Neta has a middle name so I tried that. Nope. "I'm sorry, I cannot say that name." Well, fudge.

I went back to Neta, spelling it the way it sounds: n-e-e-t-a-h. No go.

I tried n-e-a-t-a. "Sorry, I..."

I thought about trying any one (or all--until accepted) of our endearments for one another. Then I thought, screw it and just went with the message without a name.

Well, double fudge.

I'm inclined to think it was just a glitch. Neta isn't a rare name nor particularly hard to pronounce. Oh sure, some folks might say Net-ta instead of Nee-ta, that would have been acceptable. But unable to say any variation at all? Odd.

Then again, my mom has a difficult time with Neta's name too.

Mom: How is...uhm, your friend, in Tennessee, what's her name?

Me: Nee-ta.

Mom: Oh, I thought it was Net-ta.

Me: No, it's Nee-ta and she's fine. (aside: yum).

Mom: Oh, I thought...well, you know your father's wife is.. Me: Yes, I know, but her name has two Ts, it's Net-tie.

Then, of course, we get on to a conversation about 'dear old dad' which is where I sign off.