Sunsets and Uncomfortable Realizations

I think I have visited this topic before but since I clearly have not resolved anything we shall wander there again I think. Yesterday was a lovely day filled with errands and later an outing and ending with my fried chicken and a newly put up Christmas tree. All in all a most wonderful day spent with a most wonderful friend.

We ended the day out at Kellogg Lake for sunset pictures. While we were strolling around the lake taking some very festive apocalyptic looking geese shots I was thinking about my dad. I think I have clearly established that my dad and I had a strange...I can't even call it a relationship...thing. Our lives were spent vying for the attention of my mother, not really talking to one another, resenting one another and generally holding one another in contempt until they were suddenly both dead and I was left with a LOT of unresolved issues with them both. But that is my issue to put to rest and I have been working on it. Sometimes it just makes me a little sad that we had no time for me to get old enough to understand them both better and maybe...just maybe...fix some things. But that was not to be and they left without really saying goodbye. It was all so sudden. Mom has congestive heart failure at the beginning of April and by the next November they are both gone. Poof...just like that...I was a 30 year old orphan and I was lost. 

I have spent the last 25 years trying to make peace with the grief. We were such an isolated and insular unit that losing them was like dropping me in the jungle somewhere and expecting me to find my way out in a week. I wandered around making horrible decisions for a few years. I just was not able to process the grief or find a way to not be overwhelmed and paralyzed by their loss. It has gotten better. With the help of a counselor and my poor friend who constantly has to talk sense to my anxiety I have made progress. But at times...like last night...I begin to wander into parental nostalgia land...which can be either cathartic or a trip down the rabbit hole and into the dark.

I am pretty proud of myself that I managed to opt for just nostalgia and not the darkness. 

I realized...walking around that lake that I am not so very different from my dad. Those of you who knew my dad...please don't be terrified...there are important differences that remain. I do not hold women...or men for that matter...in general contempt. I NEVER use the C word and I don't irrationally yell hateful things at those I purport to love...so I've got all that going for me. 

The similarity lies in our shared extreme introversion. I suddenly realized that my dad's dream life would have been to spend all day...every day...at the water fishing. He would probably enjoy it if mom or I went along but we would have to sit in silence with him...just fishing. But his true nirvana would have been to sit in silence with himself fishing 24/7. I am not so different. My dream life would be either driving or hiking around outside with my camera...in silence. When I am out by myself in the car taking pictures there is no radio there is no speech...unless I am talking to critters. I do like it when my friend comes with me because we can talk but she understands the silence and treasures it too. It's kind of sad but it's my truth...I am the most comfortable when I am by myself. I enjoy the silence, I need to be quiet, and I need the solitude. Without them I become very grumpy. 

So...I think I have decided to make peace with, and embrace, those parts of my dad that live inside me. I have always done what I think most kids do when they have a difficult parent in that I picked a side and determined that I would NEVER...EVER...be like the other parent. I have spent my whole life trying to be the polar opposite of my dad and there are some parts of his personality that I have successfully avoided but I need to accept the parts of him that live in me and deal with them in a healthy way. I will accept that I am a bit too judgmental at times but I will remind myself that my problems are usually with the behavior and not the person. I will strive to be better but acknowledge that it's there. I will accept that I have a LOT of unresolved anger and a temper that still rears its ugly head from time to time but I will find a way to vent that anger without maiming anyone in the process. I will accept the fact that I am happiest by myself and stop criticizing myself for it. I will sit in the silence and enjoy it and not worry that it's not normal. The more my fellow introverts speak their truth the more normal I feel.

Rather than fight that image of dad sitting out in his lawn chair, judging the world as it goes by with his own weird standards, wallowing in his anger, resenting those who seem happy I will embrace that lawn chair. The only difference is that I will sit in that lawn chair and accept my flaws and enjoy my silence and my solitude and leave the resentment and bitterness behind. I mean...really...if I were skinnier I would wear overalls every day too...they are so comfortable and you never have to fight with a belt. We are not so different, Lester and I, but that's okay because I can accept it and change the plot to a more happy ending for me. I am just sorry that he left before we could find a way to sit in our silence together. 

Someone's a little moody today

For some reason I have been a little on the grumpy side today...not a roaring bitch...although...I have had a moment or two...just a little off-kilter and I am tying to write myself out of it...or conversely just lose my shit and be done.

My day started off well enough. Whiskers deigned to give me some purring and allowed me to pet her for awhile this morning. Then the day got decidedly dodgy. You want to know the bad thing about mild OCD? It really messes with your schedule. Here's my conversation with myself this morning.

Sane me: "Aw...shit the dogs need to go out again and I am going to be late for work."

OCD me: "You know...it's trash day and now would be a good time to toss that expired food in the cabinet".

Sane me: "Did you not hear me? I am going to be late as it is."

OCD me: "But it's trash day and now would be a good time to toss that expired food in the cabinet."

Sane me: "NO! I need to go to work."

OCD me: "But it's trash day and now would be a good time to toss that expired food in the cabinet."

OCD me: " I win! It won't take but a second. We won't be that late."

Sane me:  SIGH....

Work was busy but fine. The pigeons weren't too dastardly with their poop deprivations. Then I decide to go to Walgreen's and get my flu shot at lunch because it won't be that busy on a Wednesday at lunch. Right? There were four people in line ahead of me and at least that many behind me. The shot itself doesn't take two seconds but it's the form and then the insurance print out and taking your turn. It took 40 minutes!! And my stinking arm hurts.

So...I am now running it close getting back to work. I zip down to Taco Bell. CRAP! The line is a mile long. It's going pretty fast though so I stick with it. Then I notice the woman in front of me feels that if she gets within 20 feet of the car in front of her we all might die!! Cue pet peeve of people not knowing how to navigate a drive-thru. I passively aggressively critique her lack of driving skills and call her a jackass and convince myself that my griping at her will actually accomplish anything. I finally get my food and zoom back to work where I proceed to have 5 minutes to eat my lunch. So I consume my tacos at the speed of light...get clocked in and go about my business.

I finish my day and I come home and I open the door to the screeching and barking hoards and smell poop. It's not all that unusual...my rescue poodle does not get house training and I give him a pass because the first 2/3 of his life was hell. The problem is...I can't FIND it. Now I start looking at them with the scary mom face because that means someone has sought to help mommy out and eat it. While I appreciate the intention the ensuing barfing/diarrhea I could do without. We shall see.... Then we start the "Let's annoy the shit out of mom game." First we shall bark at nothing in particular...Dibley will both try to hump Baker and growl at Biscuit. I get Baker back up on the couch and Biscuit tries to rake his back with his jealous poodle paws. Kitten Face is trying to lay low and I am using ALL of my good threats...including if you don't stop that I am going to punch you right in the face. That one never works because they know I don't mean it. Sigh....

The Yankees are winning and I hate the Yankees. The Cubs are losing and I can't watch that...it's just too stressful. The noise of the TV is making me even more cranky. I don't think this writing it out thing is working. I should just give up while I am ahead. I am going to go look at my vacation pictures again and dream.

Adventures with Boobage

For the last year or so I have been having a fairly mediocre relationship with a small cyst in my right boob. I didn't name her or anything but we've just been hanging out together. She was about the size of small marble and I knew who she was so I just accepted her presence and went with it. I made sure my x-ray tech knew about her at my last mammogram. It came back okay so we have just been living with each other with no expectations except to co-exist peacefully.

My boobs and I have always had a weird relationship. I was born with them and I tolerate them but I have never been just all that fond of carrying them around. I understand that they are very important to a lot of women, and of course the entire male population of the world but to me they are just something to contain and manage. When you are younger and actually have a libido they can be quite festive but as you age and hit menopause they seem less exiting. And for a lot of us who have breast cancer in our family tree the older you get the more you feel like they are simply ticking time bombs.

So...as I said...my cyst and I had just been hanging out together but this past holiday weekend something changed. Somehow I seem to have offended her and she became angry with me. I thought...WELL...how dare she get angry with me I shall just call my doctor and we shall see about ending this relationship if she's going to be all grumpy and shit. She was trying to vent her displeasure so much so that her little face was turning red and she was making my cleavage an inhospitable zone. 

I was practicing my procrastination superpowers on Thursday when I noticed a shift in the breast/cyst dynamic. I was heading out to lunch and went to the bathroom and I thought I had better check on her because all of a sudden she was not cranky anymore and I had not take any Ibuprofen to appease her. I lifted up my shirt in the bathroom at work and HOLY SHIT she was 4 times as big as she was the day before when I checked. I thought...hmmm...that's not good. I debated for a minute or so and then fled to urgent care. They were not too busy so I only had to be KIND of quiet while I had to describe my "issue" to the helpful person at the desk. I mean...you don't want to announce to the whole waiting room that your right tit is about to explode...although that might clear it out for you. 

I explained it again for the nurse who made a scrunchy face when she saw it and then again for the doctor who amazingly enough repeated the exact same scrunchy face when he saw it. He was a very nice man so I did not roll my eyes at him when he stated the obvious that it was infected and had abscessed. I thought...only me...only I seem to have this weird shit happen. So I gowned up and prepared for the unpleasantness that awaited me. The nurse and I had great fun tying to fold the pillow into an actual pillow type shape so I could lie on the table without feeling like I had just lost a vigorous game of Twister with a bunch of double-jointed tater tots. The doctor came back in and I apologized to them both. I said..."I'm sorry about this...I know this is not what you wanted to do today." WHY do I do that??? I always apologize when I have weird stuff. Not only do I have to pay for the service but I apologize to them for having to perform it. There could be something seriously wrong with me.

He asked if I had ever been through something like this before and you should have seen his face when I burst out with this odd, maniacal laugh and proceeded to tell him about my Peri-rectal abscess I had about 8 years ago. He laughed and said..."Well this is going to be a walk in the park then for you." Yea me! Then he proceeded to apologize to me as he stuck a needle into my right tit to numb it. Can I just tell you how festive that was?? Then he said..."Unless your evil twin pops out of here we will just take a little culture and send it off to make sure you are not growing odd stuff in there." Then he opened up my own personal boob skylight and left it open to do its thing.

I then...went back to work because I am a dumb ass and I was feeling all cocky because it was numbed up and I had a prescription for giant ass antibiotics. Can I just mention here that 850 milligrams of Augmentin twice a day does your intestines no favors? I was not nearly so cocky when the numbness left. I came home after a stop at Walgreens for really big band-aids and my antibiotics. I decided to put on my jammies and put on a clean band aid. So I PEELED the old band aid off and said..."Oh would you look at that...I think I will pass out now." That is when self-preservation kicked in and my brain said NOOOOO...don't pass out...while you are unconscious the boys will either lick your boobs or pee on you...neither one of these bears thinking about so I stayed upright and re-covered my new easy access boob. 

I hope my cyst is happy now. Our relationship is so over. I have an appointment Monday for a referral to a surgeon to have her removed permanently. I do not hope she is happy. I am very bitter that she betrayed me in such a heinous fashion. Tick...tick...tick....

Those fleeting moments of time travel

Lately I have been having these unsettling, happy, nostalgic, realistic and vaguely disturbing time travel episodes. It used to be only every now and again that I would get the slightest whiff of a memory and the sensation would be gone but more recently they have become more intense.

They are from what feels like another century. The great thing about nostalgia is that it allows you think that a particular era or decade was so much better than the present. We tend to think of it as a less complicated time...a time of freedom...it's one of our favorite lies that we tell ourselves. There are truths there in the mist of memory. It was a slower time. We did not have cell phones and computers and all the electronic distraction we have today. We did have the TV with all 3 channels...if you were lucky and could get the UHF channel to come in. That being said, you could still ignore one another pretty easily, you could go outside, go to your room, read a book etc...It was trickier but it could be done and in truth it was more subtle than pretending like you want to interact with someone and then just staring into your phone all night.

This elusive memory/sensation of which I speak is Friday night. Friday nights had a special feel to them for some reason. Dad always got paid on Friday and we would swing through Gayle's Package Shop and he would buy a case of Busch and a carton of Kools. It was our bonding moment. Every other Friday night was even more special though because Mom would get paid and we could treat ourselves to fast food. This was more of treat back then you see because we had very little in the way of fast food in Carthage. You would not have believed the excitement when we finally got a McDonald's. Before the big chains came to town we would visit places like Harvey's Broasted Chicken, Whisler's Hamburgers, Goettles Drive-In, Mr. Quick or maybe take out from Ray's Café. Ooh...or maybe a root beer float from A&W. It was such a much bigger deal back then because it was "special". I would kill for some Harvey's Broasted Chicken some days.

Fridays were also often special because it would be sleep-over night. My best friend Elaine spent a lot of Fridays with us or it might be Mike and Myra or Carol. We would get fast food and watch TV on a big makeshift pallet in the living room. We would get to stay up late and try and scare ourselves silly watching "Dimension 16". Our local channel 16 would show B horror flicks on Friday night starting about 10:30 or so. They are pretty funny at my current agedness but back then it was a little more terrifying to watch Dracula prey on young women or Godzilla battling Mothra and Gammara. Then we would wake up on Saturday and spend the day playing until they had to go home.

It's that promise of special food and fun and the beginning of time to spend with my mom that held such magic. It was the hope that this weekend we could do something fun. Maybe she would feel like playing catch with me or play cards or games with me in the evening? Maybe she would have the energy to tell me a bedtime story tonight? Maybe she could stop giving so much of herself to others and give a little of it to me? You see, I have no doubt that my mother loved me, probably a bit too much. She wasn't cold and distant. But she did grow up in a different time when just keeping your kids alive was accomplishment enough. She loved me but she didn't have the energy or the understanding of how to "parent" a child. She was exhausted from killing herself trying to make as much money as she could because she knew she could not rely on dad. Dad did his best with what he had and he was never going to have a better job. He did what he could mentally do and after he stopped drinking it was easier to get him to do it everyday but it still was never enough. We were always one bad month away from homelessness. It was unsettling as a child to know this and understand it.

Still...despite the benign neglect and the instability of my childhood there is still something so wonderful about that Friday night sensation. The sounds, the smells, the music, the feeling of hope and the happiness. A time before adulthood. A time before you had your heart broken for the first but not the last time. A time before you realized that there are wonderful people in this world but there are ugly ones as well. A time before those closest to you begin to age and die. A time before you have to watch your parents die before you have gotten old enough to understand them better and before you had a chance to try and fix it. A time before human behavior made you feel so very weary...before you too got tired...just like your mother. So here's to Friday night and the wonderful, nostalgic, totally unrealistic picture I have of the 70's. May I forever wallow in that happy sensation and relive the hope and promise that seems so illusive now.

A Lot of Random Shit

I cannot seem to come up with a theme that is not bitter and depressed sounding so I think I will just go with random things that have struck me recently.

The r key on my computer keeps sticking or not working and it's pissing me off to no end. It seems like it shouldn't be a big thing but it's really annoying. Do you know how many words have r's in them?

Cats are sadistic voyeurs. Kitten Face has decided to come into the bedroom every morning as I am trying to get dressed and am at my least clothed and demand attention. I suspect she is looking for denim to molest but if there is none in the offing she just goes for pets at the most awkward time. Worse yet she looks at me with those judgmental eyes..."I see you're still fat mommy"...how's about I slice off some of that for you with my handy toenails? She also stares at my boobs as if they are going to somehow leap off my chest and attack her...it's very disconcerting. The other day she came into the bathroom for her "captive audience" dance and requisite petting frenzy. She sat down in front of me and then noticed the little strings on my shorts. I cannot find the words to explain the way the life of my coochie flashed before its eyes (I know just go with the imagery here) as she began to expand her pupils to 5 times their normal size and began trying to chew/attack the strings. If a vagina could panic and scream in terror mine would have done so. She's staring at me from her cat post right now with a look of both adoration and contempt. How do they do that??

I took the boys outside a bit ago thinking they might need to potty. It's such a nice evening for a change. We were just hanging out listening to the near deafening chorus of cicadas when I noticed a mosquito the size of the Titanic on Biscuit's back so in the house we came. My illegal furniture refinishing neighbor has pretty much just abandoned the house next door and so the yard has not been mowed all summer. The crop of mosquitoes squatting in her yard is impressive and they are hungry and making my life hell. Today...on my nice quiet Saturday she sent a power washing guy over to try and clean up the mess she made on the back patio and to clean out the trees (that's no joke...they were small saplings) out of the gutters. The poor guy was here for five hours!! So much for the quiet.

My other neighbor is an older lady who likes to tell me what I should do in my yard. It's a bit annoying really. Anyway...her child uses her for a day care. As a child who was dumped on my grandmother's crazy doorstep most of my childhood I can tell you this is not a fun way to spend your summer. There are a couple of kids in the neighborhood close to her age but that's it. Tonight they brought her for what looked like an overnight. She had her little back pack with her. (You are probably asking yourself...how does she know all this...well...I will tell you...my front door was open and they park their car in my line of sight EVERY single time.) They drop her off and about 10 minutes later they cruise back up and dad has a happy meal hanging out the window for the child to run out and pick up.

Quite honestly I am surprised he didn't make her catch it as they drove by the house. Now, maybe she's a good grandma and she loves her granddaughter and doesn't mind but come on people. You chose to have a child. The least you can do is get your lazy, grown up ass, out of the car and take your child her dinner...such as it is. I hope she got a good toy. I am being bitter again...dammit!

I better stop now while I am ahead.

A New Adventure?

I am a large human being. That is not a value judgement...it is just a fact. I will never be dainty. I am 5'7" tall with the build of defensive tackle. I do not have a problem with bone density. I have been told that people find me intimidating, although, I have no idea why. Maybe it's my serious, scrunchy thinking face that throws them off?  I don't know. Sometimes I am genuinely cranky about something but most of the time I am just concentrating on trying to control my rampant anxiety or just trying to work out a problem in my head.

I started becoming a horizontal over-achiever around 3rd grade when my PCOS began to kick in and my body began changing and my metabolism slowed to the pace of a 1,000 year old snail. I was a reasonably active kid yet I just kept getting bigger and brawnier and more masculine until I eventually turned into the current version of me. Now...granted...in the last four or five years I have taken the horizontal over achievement thing a bit too far. At my last weigh in I came in at an attractive 310 lbs. I have also become very inactive. All this has rolled down hill to the point that I am miserable and unhealthy and cranky about it.

I stopped beating myself up about being fat a long time ago. When I say I am fat it is simply the obvious truth and not a judgement. I know that it is vey difficult for me to lose weight because of the PCOS. I also know that I don't eat as much as people would assume I do. I do eat a lot of rubbish but it's not in vast quantities. I also know that I drink too much Coke but that is my one big vice and it's not likely to go away any time soon. I have however, been beating myself up about my inactivity and my health.

When I had trouble a couple of summers ago with my breathing in the heat they tested me for CPOD. They said I did not have CPOD but I was 451% more restricted than normal because of where I wear my weight. I do not undestand the difference. My hiatal hernia has been crankier than normal. My whole body hurts ALL the time. My legs have been especially cranky and my knees have been exploring new ways to hurt. I have felt weak and tired to the point of exhaustion. I have therefore been angry with myself and berating myself about the general state of me. I mean...seriously...Karen...how bad does it have to get befoe you do something about it? Because it's pretty bad right now and here we sit.

So...today I finally got up and did something about it. I went for a walk. It wasn't too hot yet so I put on my headphones and headed out for a short walk just to get started. I planned for a 1/2 an hour. I walked down to the park and made the loop to come back home. I walked for 45 minutes at my own pace and did not get hot or tired feeling until I got within a block of the house. I was surprised. I did far better than I thought I would. When I got home I forced myself to drink a 12 oz bottle of water. That doesn't sound like much but to a girl who only consumes water in a carbonated form surrounded by Coke it was something. I am proud of myself.

I am not so much concerned with losing weight this time around. I much more concerned about feeling better and becoming more healthy. The weight will do what it is going to do. I do not know if I will be able to maintain this new determination. Past history does not hold out much hope for me but maybe this time I can stick with it? I am going to try and that is really all I can do. Maybe this will be the beginning of a new adventure to find the normal sized person inside me who just wants to be healthy and happy. Wish me luck!

Adventurers in Incontinence

My computer got stuck in update land last night so I did not get to share the best part of my adventure yesterday. I was out and about checking out the water levels and taking pictures because I am just weird like that...I blame my dad. He trained me to always be nosy and to go out and see for yourself what was happening. I also get twitchy every time I hear a siren because Dad was a notorious ambulance chaser. No...he was not a lawyer...he just always wanted to know what was going on. I don't know if it was just nosiness or morbid curiosity or just the challenge of trying to follow them...who knows.

Anyway...I was out east of Carthage trying to navigate around and take pictures while avoiding actually driving through anything. I was not planning on drowning yesterday so I make it a habit to not drive through swiftly running or deep water. If you have ever gotten stuck with your Dad on Francis Street in Carthage because he tried to drive through and the truck stalled and you were terrified and he was pissed because you were terrified you would understand. I am digressing and clearly need to talk to my therapist about that little adventure.

Back to the story...I was out driving and all of the sudden my bladder said...HEY...I have to pee...NOW! NO...we cannot make it back into town...NO this is not merely a suggestion...we have to PEE NOW!! Since I did not have a change of clothes with me and I did not want to pee in my new car I had to try to appease the urinary gods of incontinence. So I did a quick inventory of my options. And fortunately for me I was right at the perfect place. The area was deserted because no sane people were out and about. It was kind of like the zombie apocalypse out there actually. So I pulled into a place I shall not name for fear of that someone may actually know the place. But let's just say it is a place where people's relatives are enjoying their eternal slumber.

I know it's disrespectful but it was an emergency! I drove to the far back of the cemetery hoping the road was not too soft. I found a spot where I could go that would not be close to anyone's loved one. I do have some morals. There used to be an outhouse there so I feel moderately justified. I unbuckled my seat belt and it started pouring again...I mean POURING! But I was committed now...the seat belt was off my belt was half undone and my bladder was trying to start without me. So I open the door...get out and manage to get my pants down in the nick of time. The rain is pouring down my back and then a bolt of lightening goes off about 20 or so feet away. I could feel its energy it was that close. I yanked up my jeans and hopped back in the car and pondered the meaning of life for a second. Oh...and my bladder said thank you Jesus!

I thought to myself...shit...that would have just been typical. I could have been struck by lightening and they would have found me in the back of the cemetery with the car running and my pants around my ankles and my big ass bare for all to see. And I thought...dang I could have died and no one would have known the story and I would have REALLY wanted that put on my tombstone. "She died taking a piss in a cemetery during a thunderstorm." It's so much more interesting than other options available to me. So I am getting the word out. If something bizarre ever happens to me I want someone to do some digging...think creatively...because the weirdest explanation is probably what I was doing and immortalize it somewhere. I want to go out with my weird banner flying proudly. Do that for me and I promise not to haunt you if that option is available to me.

Earth Day Chats

As I have noted here before I often find myself conversing with whatever critters I might happen upon on my drives. Usually it's cows, or dogs, or cats, or turtles, or hawks, or horses, or goats...anyway you get my drift. I find myself saying the same sorts of things over and over again. I think the most popular...in no particular order of importance are:
"What's up cows?" "Sheep!!!!" "Goats!!!!" "BABIES!!!!""Get out of the road!" "What have you got in your mouth?" "Should you be eating that?" "You scared the crap out of me!" "Be careful!" "What are you doing?" "Oh...please sit still little bird..aw rats!" "Aren't you pretty?" And "Thank you!"

Yesterday I noticed that, per usual in the Spring, I was talking a lot to my friends the turkey vultures. The vultures and I have an unusual relationship. For some reason I feel the need to critique their behavior. I think it's because when I just talk to them normally they give me that condescending look they always wear. It's that same look I used to get if I accidently cursed in front of a nun...you know the look. This causes me to immediately retort..."oh yeah...well you're butt ugly and you eat road kill so I wouldn't be so smug if I were you!" (This is said to the vultures...never to a nun.)

In about the span of four miles I had several chats with the dead breath kids. The first was "What are you four fighting over? Ah...a possum...well done...carry on." A mile down the road there were three in a field and I could not figure out what they were doing so I stopped since no other sane person was on that road in the cold rain. I figured out two were fighting...I assume over the babe with them because they were not eating. Since I hate fighting and confrontation in general I rolled down the window and proceeded to yell at them until they broke it up and the one combatant flew away. I was quite pleased with my peace making efforts.

Another mile down the road I thought what the heck is going on down here. It's a convention. This can't be good. There were nine of them and guess what they were doing? That's right...fighting over a tiny little smushed bunny. NINE...of...them! I just stopped and looked at them..."Really? Nine of you...there's a possum a couple miles west of here you might want to check out because this is just sad." "Oh and you might want to move because the next farmer in a big truck might not care if he takes you out and then you know what comes next right? That's right. Your friends are relatives here eat you! So get your asses out of the road because that tiny bunny is not worth it dudes."

Later on I had a discussion with two more brilliant vultures who were fighting over a raccoon in the middle of a bridge. "Um...middle of the bridge guys...this is why the raccoon didn't make it in the first place...not a good plan." They just gave me the look and flew off into a tree.

I love chatting with the boys and girls of the "I eat dead things" crowd. I think they really appreciate sarcasm. I think if they could speak English we could have quite the chat and I am sure it would be rude and delightful. So the next time you see one doing something ridiculous or stupid please feel free to tell them so and you can use my name as a reference. I am sure I have a rep. Get outside people!!!

Who Knew??

Disclaimer: This blog in not intended to mock fish owners or the individual fish or anything to do with fish.

My brain is tangent driven. Give it a new bit of knowledge and it will run wild with it like a friend of mine who shall remain anonymous chasing a shoe sale. Today I had just such an experience so here goes....

I was in the kitchen at work stocking up the essential items so that no one dies tomorrow morning when I noticed a bag of semi-frozen peas lying on the counter near the coffee machine. I must admit...I looked around to see if someone was punking me. Then I thought...hmmm...someone forgot their peas...I shall remind them because it is almost 5 pm and I am not sure these peas should be left out unattended. So I paged the person missing their peas to come and collect them please. Well...that didn't work...no one was claiming the poor little things. So I paged again seeking guidance. Do I put them back in the freezer? Do I put them in the fridge? Were they trying to defrost them? How am I supposed to know? Because as SURE as I put them in the freezer someone will get upset because they were thawing them out for their morning smoothie tomorrow.

This caused much laughter amongst my co-workers but hey...I am not my vegetable's keeper here people and you need to step up and claim your foliage. I just needed some guidance. Finally...a very nice guy who is pretty new to our little village came by to tell me he thought they belonged to his office mate and they could go back in freezer. Finally...some guidance....

And THEN that's when I found out a new bit of knowledge that has caused me much joy and mirth. He said his office mate feeds the peas to his fish. WHO KNEW?? I had no idea you fed peas to fish in a non-bait sort of a way. I find this tidbit both fascinating and funny as hell. Immediately my two office mates and I start googling and the internet continues to provide me with the most amazing trivial information. We have turned the internet into a giant research tool for Trivial Pursuit. It's awesome!!

We found pages of information on feeding peas to your fish. Even a you tube tutorial on how to feed peas to your fish. I say again...who knew?? Evidently this is a good idea because certain kinds of fish have digestive issues. Seriously??  Have we made the world so stressful that even the FISH have irritable bowel problems?? And then I thought...how on earth do you know your fish is constipated?? Does he/she swim up to the side of the bowl and look at you with the same frowny face we make when we can't go? Do you have to look out for them floating for long periods of time in one corner with a magazine? I wonder if their fins fall asleep like our legs do? Does he/she hold up a little sign saying...mom or dad...I can't poop? One of my office mates said that if your fish has buoyancy issues you may have to hold him/her while you feed him/her the peas. How can a fish have buoyancy issues?? Do they even make little fish floaties to help them out? I find this sort of thing just fascinating to think about and I will annoy people with it for days so count your blessings if you are not around me every day.

I know you will think I am odd for thinking this and you are not far wrong but I find these sorts of things fabulously fun to think about. I laugh until I snort and pee a little. But I will guarantee you right now I will store away this fact like all of the other millions of threads of minutiae that live in my brain. My blessing and curse is that I remember stuff like this forever!! This would be why I have trouble sleeping at night. This sort of little non-descript tidbit gives me great joy. It's like cardio for my brain. So tonight I will go to sleep thinking about all the fish in the world who need peas and the people who love them. I wish them health and much buoyancy.

A Conversation with Cows

Okay...for those of you wondering what I do when I am out riding around for hours out in the country taking my random pictures here is some insight into the oddness that is me. Sometimes...aside from having songs stuck in my head looping over and over again...today it was TLC's No Scrubs...I often have complete imaginary conversations with random bovine.

Today I saw these girls hanging out in the pasture together and thought...how sweet...they look like old (in cow years anyway) friends. So I went through a whole imaginary conversation they were having as I sat there taking one of my crappier shots of the day. The girls deserved better.

Please read the following conversation with a very strong British accent. Maybe not Cockney but pretty thick...okay here we go...this is how I amuse myself. I call them Francine and Betty.

Francine: What's she doing Betty?

Betty: I have no idea Francine. Are you sure it's a she?

Francine: By the sounds coming out of the car I think it's a woman. Is she actually talking to us Betty?

Betty: I think she is. What's she saying?

Francine: I don't know...some kind of argy bargy about us being very pretty cows and what are we doing this fine day?

Betty: Och...what's she think we are doing Francine? We are cows. We are standing around in our pasture chewing our cud. Humans are weird.

Francine: True enough...what's she doin' now?

Betty: She's pointing something at us. She's not going to shoot us is she?

Francine: Oh...Betty don't be silly...I don't care how big-boned she is she ain't never getting one of us into that car.

Betty: Are you sure? I can smell her cheeseburger breath all the way over here! Mercy...that's gross.

Francine: Yes...I am sure...she is just taking a picture of us I think. How's my hair look? Do I still have that hay hanging out my mouth?

Betty: Why would she want a picture of us Francine?

Francine: I don't know...I told you...humans are weird.

And this is how my excursions go...I drive around...I do the one finger wave to all the farmers I pass on the road...or the nod...or sometimes the whole hand wave...I talk to cows and birds and hawks and whatever else might be out there and my brain loops around and around and around hopping from topic to topic. Sometimes I have great epiphanies but mostly it's just rubbish.

The Value of Human Life

So I did a check on myself on how I was doing political and social anger wise and discovered that...nope I am still angry. I have been trying to avoid a lot of the media carnage because it upsets me so but I fear I must wade in again.

Yesterday I had a grand adventure and got to see the beauty and majesty of about 50 Bald Eagles all in one place. They are magnificent creatures and they reminded me of a conversation I have been having off and on with myself for some time.

I find all this reactionary nonsense toward refugees and Muslims and Mexicans both racist and morally bankrupt. We are all immigrants to this country and the fact that we might have been white and Christian does not make us better or worse than anyone else. We are not more entitled to anything because of our race and our religion.

Every wave of immigration into this country has been met with resistance and ugliness and racism. The Irish were not wanted because of their Catholicism. The Italians were not wanted because of their skin color and their Catholicism. The Chinese were not wanted because of their race and non-Christianity. And the list goes on and on...I am sure my Polish relatives were looked down upon because of their Catholicism and language issues. This is not something new to this country. That being said...most of us had thought things were slowly getting better. That we were learning that the world was bigger than just us and that there was a more compassionate and caring way to deal with others. I think in some people this is true but for other parts of the population it is NOT true and they are determined to take a step backwards instead of forwards.

This is when I was struck by something I heard coming from the right. A sentiment and a thought that struck me right at the core. I am going to paraphrase the sentiments here...we need to protect American lives from terrorists. We need to make sure our people are safe. We need to protect our children from terrorists. I want to be safe from terrorists. America first. My thoughts on the subject...who the hell made your life more important than any other person on this planet? What the f*%^ is so special about you?

My parents were by no means perfect but they did teach me to respect other human beings regardless of any and all differences between us. They taught me that I was not more or less important than anyone else. That I was a human being with responsibilities to other human beings. My life has no more value or importance than any other life. All human life has value and importance. (We shall not enter the abortion debate here.) So all I ask is that while you sit back on your couch in your home with all your family and "stuff" to keep you warm take a moment and consider those who have lost everything and everyone. They are refugees for reasons out of their control. Reasons at least partially caused by our government's failed policies in other parts of the world.

Their lives are not less important than yours. The fact that they may or may not have terrorist links is irrelevant because really you are more likely to be run over by a bus or shot by your toddler than you are to die in a terrorist attack. Check the death tolls from Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Turkey and other hot spots and do the math. Your are being fed lies by people who profit from your fear.

I understand that you love your family and friends and you want to protect them. But who convinced you that life is safe? That life is without risk? Every second of every day people die from a myriad of causes. You cannot control and micromanage every second of your life and still actually be "living". We are all interconnected by something basic called humanity. Whether you like it or not you are just the same as every other human being on this planet. Death does not care what color you are, how much money you have or don't have, what country you are from or what religion you practice. So take a step back and look in the mirror and ask yourself if your high opinion of your own value is not really the problem here and realize that you are a human being with a moral obligation to treat others as you would be treated. Stop giving into the fear and start living.