Whatwhatwhatty?

 Blogger has changed many things, including my ability to comment on posts. It all saps the will to live, much less blog...

Ye Aulde Lang Syne

 I've had this blog for a long time. I should do something about that. 

Current Miniscule Irritant: Sheldon not mentioning the origin of Y as in "Ye Olde..." It was never a y sound; the Y is from the runic symbol, but a th usage/sound. It's "The Olde..."

Current Major Irritant: Governments everywhere. Everyone's nuts. WTF

This is not Covid, part 5. This is a grammar school head cold. Runny nose and all. And lots of coughing. Better to get it over with because it's

 

THE HOLIDAYS

 

again.

Dinner with Plague tomorrow, vegetarian. My blood sugar is a mess in December anyway. Turkey dinner with Wendo on the Solstice. Then Open House on Xmas Eve, the afternoon gathering before facing the commitments. Doing a Scandi smorgasbord this year. Xmas Day is me, Harry Potter, and a rib eye steak. Then there's a break until we do The Very Crompton Christmas on the 6th.  I ignore New Year's Eve, something I never thought I'd do back in Ye Olde Universe.

But I never thought I'd adore being alone, either. There are surprises in getting old. Not a lot of good ones, but surprises nonetheless.

The theme this year was division. Everyone is divided, and not in two. We're in many pieces. It's happened several times before in my recall and it's scarier every time, though I'm not sure why. Is it worse every time? Do we lose ground, get perverted, sink a bit lower each time? Well yeah. That's not to say it's a bad thing, it's real. We've been living in such programming for a long time and as Zappa said:

“The illusion of freedom will continue as long as it's profitable to continue the illusion. At the point where the illusion becomes too expensive to maintain, they will just take down the scenery, they will pull back the curtains, they will move the tables and chairs out of the way and you will see the brick wall at the back of the theater.”

Same as it ever was.

May we look at the brick wall with grace and humor.

Peace and love, fellow babies.

x

 

And Just Like That!

 It's mid-November, I'm wrapping presents and planning Pie Day Friday- the day after Thanksgiving. Here's a shot of Pie in July. There were 8 pies in the end. I hope we exceed that for Pie Day Friday.

 

My Thanksgiving is forever changed. No more big dinner for several, just a turkey thigh, stuffing, gravy, Brussels sprouts and cranberries for me alone while I bake pies and watch the parade and set up for company the next day. I like it.

In fact, I'm discovering things I like and don't like, free from any influence. For example, I finally admitted to myself that I don't like being touched all that much. It probably goes back to gods know what, but I just am no fan. The 70s hugging, the hand-holding, the stroking of head/hair, all somewhat repel me and I think always did.  

There are foods I've come to the "ew" point over that I've eaten without complaint all these years. 

There is clothing I refuse to ever wear again. 

There are countless opinions I don't give a rat's ass about. 

There are rules that I deem foolish and ignore.

Religion, and its trappings, are a curious human situation to me. Nothing more.

Is this the benefit of 6.5 decades of living? To finally get to be who You are, sans the imposed and shellacked layers of socializing/programming? Who knows. Not "having to" do whatever is the most freeing thing ever. 

And maybe that's the gift of aging. Saying what I think without interior censors. Doing what I like without caring what others think. Freedom. And for that, I am truly thankful.

x

By The 4th

By the 4th time you have Covid, nobody checks on you.

By the 4th of July I'll be well and able to host Pie in July.  I'll make a couple pies, people will bring pies, people will eat pies. We'll watch a certain person who does really bizarre things, like bringing half of a  5" tart and then eating half of that herself. We'll get varying sugar highs, then people will go to the town fireworks display, and I'll clean up and go to bed.

By the 4th week of every month I'm ready for the next month, June has been a busy, tiring month and I'm glad to see the end of it. It's always great to see my OK cousins, to hang with friends, to get projects done. It's even good to see my doctor and  everyone in the office. But it's exhausting and I always end up sick. 

By the 4th time I re-injure my hand the pain doesn't impress me anymore.

By the 4th day of less than 6 hours' sleep I have little good to say. So I'll just say, 

 

from the very green Green Mountain State.

x

Come She May

 Suddenly it's Walpurgis Day, and tomorrow's Beltane, May Day, International Workers' Day. 

 

 

In a few short weeks half of 2023 will be done. We're 3+ years into the pandemic. I currently have friends sick with the latest Covid variant. The usual slings and arrows seem lesser tortures in the face of the insanity that's running rampant in my country.

And, Jimmy Carter's in hospice care.

Still, it could be, and probably will be, worse. 

 

 April has brought good gatherings though. 

We have Game Nights again, and I'm making soups from around the world for our suppers together before we play. We had Solyanka first, an Eastern European classic with ham, pickles, olives, and herbs, that we loved. We followed that with Beef Tagine, which melts in your mouth with its chick peas, raisins and apricots cooked slowly for 8 hours. This week I'm making a traditional Welsh Cawl, with lamb, bacon, root veggies and cabbage.

And birthday time rolled around, with friends visiting, bearing gifts and food. I don't feel anything different about being in my 65th spin around the Sun as I did in my 64th. After a while, it's just more of the same. But it's lovely to be made a fuss over for a couple days, and to eat what I wish, damn the diabetes.

Which brings me to the weirdness.  My left hand swelled to the point that I couldn't lift the coffee pot. So I quit drinking coffee, which seems to have cleared up the dermatitis spots on my fingers. Go figure. A coffee allergy? Typical. However, nothing I did reduced the swelling, so off to an Urgent Care storefront I went. There, I waited over an hour (despite my appointment made online) to see a nurse practitioner who did a cursory look-over and prescribed Prednisone, 50 mg for 5 days. After taking the first pill, my blood sugar went up to near 300. So much for my upcoming labs, I thought. My Doc said cut them in half, which I did. 2 days later my hand had deflated a bit but my BS was still around 200. The thing was, all my pain subsided and I was sleeping like a log. Sure thing, soon as the steroid was over, the pains returned. And in another day, my fingers blew up to the sausages they'd been, and have stayed that way.

The rest goes on here as it goes. Goggles raves and reeks, the weather does odd things (97'F in April?), the town keeps persevering in the face of a brutal murder and assorted societal ills...

Words don't come to me as they used to do and I've stopped writing. This has gone on for some time now and I don't know if it's permanent. I'm overwhelmed with everything, and nothing. 

I hope things are sunnier and happier where you are. Sorry for my ennui.

x

Where's House When You Need Him?

We had a 36 inch snowfall over the last 2 days. We had no power for one day, and no internet for a day and a half. So I didn't hear until today that Kick's husband is in the ICU up north. She came downstairs to find him naked on the floor in an 85'F sitting room yesterday morning. He was, and still is, unresponsive.  The medicos can't figure out why he won't wake up. Kick is beside herself. This is a nightmare. We need a genius doc or nurse who solves the puzzle.

Meanwhile, if you're the praying type, it can't hurt to send up a wish for his recovery. Thanks.

x

March Madness

Is it me or is there a lot of craziness going around? I mean, several people have gone mad in the last year. Like the zeitgeist has caught them, and they lost their footing in the whirlwind of insanity. One of my oldest and dearest friends disappeared in paranoiac fear of all things electronic. I'm not even sure what happened as she wasn't making a lot of sense, but it had something to do with Second Life and people tracking her. News comes of someone losing the plot on the weekly these days.

Not that it's surprising. With this country the way it is, and a Venn Diagram of Insanity/Stupidity/ Greed/Hatred that switches dominant sectors often, what else could happen? 

I've been contemplating whether it was good or bad to shield children from reality as we did "back in my day". Nowadays kids grow up with a lot of harsh real world from the beginning. And as soon as they're amongst other kids, they get those kids' realities added which can be traumatic to witness. Then there are Smartphones, texting, the internet and social media, all avenues for bullying, trafficking and drugs. We took the nastiness our schoolmates could dish out, but not like this. Online talk is conducive to loathsome conduct that never transpires face to face. We had schoolyard fistfights if someone said things that nasty- not that that was good either- but what do you do when faceless, nameless bullies pile on you? Get depressed, withdrawn, hopeless. And then a white coat comes along and diagnoses some insurance code and prescribes something for changing of the nerves or brain. 

So would it be better to raise kids in a cloud of lies and protection? We had so many realizations to digest as we grew up, so many pretenses to recognize, and then discern what was truth. But we did have relatively easier times in which to be kids. Even if it wasn't, we felt the world was generally safe as long as we didn't do anything stupid. I don't know a child who feels safe anymore. So was ignorance bliss? 

This stuff comes to mind lately as another friend's child committed suicide. That makes 4 over the last 6 years. 2 of them left babies of their own to grow up without a father. 

I have no answers, just questions and observations, and grief.

Tell someone they're wonderful today.

x

  

 

February Makes Me Shiver

As I type it's -15F/-26C. Cold. I like weather the same way I like Prosecco, cold and dry. 

Winter is finally here, with February. My friend Tall Paul and I were discussing it yesterday, when it was also damn windy. He's lived here most of his 70ish years and noted that he'd forgotten what Vermont Winters were like, but this was it. This is the cold that freezes snot in your nose in seconds, that blisters your lips if they aren't protected, that makes frostbite quite likely on any exposed skin, that provides a suicidal opportunity. And I love it. My favorite season.

It's February, and February usually sucks. Death anniversaries of 3 people I loved (my mother, hubby, and favorite boss). Valentine's Day (which I've always hated). Post-holidays isolation. Post-holidays tight budget. And lots of tourists here to ski. Blech to it all.

For whatever reason we have a delay in Winter's arrival (could it be Climate Change? Pole shifting? the Jet Stream moving/flattening/being erratic?). Nah, don't be talking any of that Democrat conspiracy shit. 

 

Anyway I can't hate February because now it brings Winter- about 3 months later than it once came, but it comes nonetheless. My joints ease, pain recedes, I can do things. So I'm pretty happy with February this year.

LilaPie Muffinpants has had some troubles and caused many, and is currently staying with assorted people until there's a residential program/school for teenagers that she qualifies attending. She spent a day with me this past week. We hadn't spent any time alone together since she was 4, which was 11 years ago. Wild to see the burgeoning adult version of the sweet, bright, protective little girl who was a SJW by age 9. She lost her beloved and adored only uncle to suicide, her grandfather to cancer, and birth father to cirrhosis, within 4 years of her childhood. Her family has been thru so much in her aware time. It's a lot to process, and I think she's carrying a ton of grief and PTSD. I don't think she feels loved. I'll just keep throwing love at her and hope some of it sticks.

There's still about 6 inches of ankle-cutter snow. Don't know what ankle-cutter snow is? It's snow that's been thru temp changes and sun, and forms a hard layer of ice on top. This snow, when deer walk in it, cuts their ankles. Good for some fast and ultimately painful sledding, though.

 

The sun's rising and the sky is a washed out blue watercolor.

The wind knocked over some recycling bins, 

Yep, it's Winter in The Dreadfort. Stay warm.

x

Onward At Last!

It's 2023. We're firmly in The 2020s. I never thought I'd see these years after the nuke fallout drills, wars and threats of wars, drugs, alcoholism, city living, AIDS, prescribed opioids, heart issues, blah blah blah. I'm not special, most people my age got all this too. Nobody I talk to thinks they would live this long. Yet, as they say, here we are.

I'm glad to kick 2022's ass out the door. Getting Covid twice (after 3 shots) wasn't so bad after all. But what sucked was all my friends being sick, one after another with one thing or another. Bugs galore. One that took your voice. One that gave you the runs for weeks. One that filled your head so you had to mouth breathe and couldn't sleep (I hate mouthbreathing!). We didn't see each other for months at a time- crowning 3 years of distance, 3 years of no Game Nights, 3 years of sitting here online way too much. And the weather was screwy too making the creek rise and cuing my PTSD, which turns me into InstaBitch (not that that's much of a push). So yeah, get the hell out, '22. Take the sicknesses, TFG,  the assholes who follow him, and his pal Putin, my neighbor Goggles, all the petty tin gods around, and shove them all so far up an orifice they never know fresh air again.

 

What will happen this year? Good, bad, just meh? Anyone have predictions?

Happy New Year, everyone. I wish you health and laughter, strength and good surprises.

x