Tuesday, February 19, 2019

Recently, On The Perimenopause Diaries…

…when last we saw our heroine, she was being held captive by Father Time and Mother Nature, fighting the unwanted advances of the intermittent hot flash, and seeking relief from the persistent feeling of impending doom brought about by hormones gone wild.

Or, maybe we didn’t talk about the impending doom part…subject for today’s episode!

So, yeahhhh….there have been a lot of things that no one told me about this glorious season of my life, and, the little bit that I did know has, in no way, prepared me for the realities of my biological clock slowly winding down to it’s last, gasping breath. Instead, I am left to eke out any bit of information that I can find on the worldwide web, relying on Dr. Google to assure me that what I am experiencing is normal; even the random bouts of anxiety, so paralyzing, it’s a wonder I continue to function.

At the onset of this particularly alarming symptom, I assumed that my thyroid had again gone wonky (wonkier?), and that I might need to seek a change in my medication. But, none of the other usual symptoms of a thyroid issue presented themselves, and, with the onslaught of the above-mentioned hot flashes, I was hesitant to simply chalk it up to a further malfunction of that particular gland., so;  Dr. Google to the rescue! Apparently, generalized anxiety, irritability, and depression are the hallmark traits of perimenopause.

Well, how fucking wonderful.

Dr. Google does suggest some remedies for the symptoms associated with perimenopause, but, most of these involve synthetic hormones, which, given my mom’s history with hormone-driven breast cancer, would be risky for me to utilize. So, I have donned my Dr. Mom title and prescribed myself a nice, long vacation; we leave for Hawaii a week from Friday, and, that won’t be a minute too soon.

 I need this trip like a junkie needs his next fix; a solid week of sunshine, warm water, fresh fruit, sand between my toes, and a cool, caressing trade wind blowing across my face. 

Just what the doctor ordered; assuming I can get through the anxiety surrounding the details still to work out prior to our departure. 

Gah. How did the pioneer women get through this?!

Monday, February 18, 2019

To Whom It May Concern

My Darling Prime,

We’ve been together for quite a while now, you and I. And, we’ve been very happy. We have, right? I visit you regularly, I coo lovingly at all the amazing items you possess, I tell all my friends how wonderful you are. So, Darling, please tell me why you have started screwing up my orders. Why? Trust is imperative in a relationship, and, without it, I fear that we are doomed. I’m going to give you another chance, Prime, and I hope that you won’t fail me; it’s true what they say: First time, shame on you; second time, shame on me. The part you never hear? Screw me over a third time and I’ll cut you. Not even kidding.

Kisses! Amazon Lover

Dear New Year’s Resolutionist,

Wow! Almost two months in and you’re still coming to the gym! That’s admirable! I hope you are feeling great about your decision to focus on your health, and, that you are starting to see the results that you were hoping for. One small thing, though: do you think you could maybe follow the general rules of etiquette posted on the gym walls? Like, would it be too much to ask that you actually use the handy-dandy Clorox wipes-located strategically throughout the gym-to, you know, clean off the machines upon which you just showered bodily fluids? I, for one, would appreciate not being unintentionally exposed to your secretions.

Thanks! Your Friend in Physical Health

Dear Boomer Dog,

I love you; I really do. Your hair? Yeah, not so much. If I can teach you to shake hands, to come on command, to put your toys away, and to ring a bell on the mudroom door when you want to go outside, don't you think I could teach you to vacuum?

Hopefully yours, The Human Who Feeds You

Dear Thighs,

You manage to run an average of fifteen miles a week. You can balance in difficult yoga poses for  fifteen full ujjayi breaths. You can hold a wall squat for three minutes. You can manage twenty walking lunges, on each side...so...why still so jiggly, Thighs? Why?

Signed, Confused

Wednesday, February 13, 2019

If Only I Had Known

Last week, my supervisor at Day Job took a vacation to visit family down south. To welcome her back to the office this week, we staged a small prank in her office...

...that's 220 large balloons.

It took me and two of my co-workers about an hour and a half to accomplish, which, is amazing, because 220 large balloons. How did we manage such a feat?

This little gizmo right here...

Seventeen bucks at the Hellmouth!

As an aside, how the hell did I manage to make it through four years on the Booster Club without this?! When I think of how much easier decorating for the Senior Sports Banquets, football dinners, basketball dinners, and Homecoming celebrations would have been with this little machine, my head explodes.

Why, oh, why is hindsight 20/20?

Anyhoodle, the prank was a total success; my supervisor felt incredibly special, and, was secure in the knowledge that she had been missed and was welcomed back to the office with open arms.

My co-workers and I got to set aside work for an hour and a half, and, when it came time to clean up our mess; we got to take out our aggression with scissors and repeated stabbing motions. Not very many people can say that about their office environment.

They should totally list it in the benefits section of the company handbook.

Monday, February 11, 2019

All That Was Missing Was a Blue Ox

This weekend, I broke out of my comfort zone and attended an event with actual people. I know, crazy, right? Lately, I've been spending all my weekends cocooned in the comfort of my home with essential oils diffusing, Netflix on demand, wearing a constant rotation of comfy pj's with nary another human in sight, so, venturing out into public came as a bit of a shock to me, too.

It was for a good cause; I attended a baby shower for Mama Jill's daughter, Beth. She and her husband are expecting their first little lumberjack in April, and, since I have been at every other important event of their relationship (hello! Photographed the wedding!), I could not miss out on this celebration.

I also got to spend time with Mama Jill, which hasn't happened nearly enough lately, either, so; it was a great day to bust out of my rut.

The shower, it must be noted, was adorable; I wasn't kidding when I said the happy couple is expecting a little lumberjack, at least, that is what the decor would lead us to believe...

And, guess who gets to be among the first to meet the little guy when he makes his debut? That's right! This girl! Beth and her husband have asked me to be in the delivery room to photograph the labor and their first moments with their new son. I'm so honored! And, slightly nervous at the prospect of being in the room during the delivery, but, that's what we do for our friends.

Unless it involves body fluids...I draw the line at secretions.

Anyhoodle, it was a great way to spend the day, and, I still made it home in plenty of time to cozy up on the couch with a mug of herbal tea and my softest jammies.


Saturday, February 09, 2019

The Sour Milk of Documentaries

Alternate title: The One in Which I Don't Mention a  Death...

...yeah, it's been a long week. Happily, as of right now, I am unaware of any more sad passings within my family or "friend family" (framily, if you will, although, Websters would beg to differ); fingers crossed for that to remain true for a very, very long time.

Instead, today, I want to talk about a show that was recently recommended to me by Co-Worker Erin. I knew I had to watch it when she prefaced her recommendation with "Oh, my God! This show was so disturbing! I was literally throwing things at the television and screaming at the stupidity of people! YOU SHOULD TOTALLY WATCH IT!".

So, I did, and, people? This show is so disturbing! I literally asked myself "What the fuck are these people thinking?" nine hundred times.

So, of course I immediately started telling everyone I know to watch it, and, of course I led with "This show is soooo disturbing! You should totally watch it!". Which, is why I am now likening the show to sour milk, because, we all do it; we go to the fridge, sniff the milk, shove it toward our loves ones and say "Oh my god, this milk smells disgusting! SMELL it!", and, they do.

It's human nature.

So, yeah, if you are looking for something to watch....this show is so disturbing! You should totally watch it!

It's on Netflix; you're welcome.

 Also, the next time someone shoves a gallon of milk under your nose while exclaiming about it's rankness, I totally challenge you to refuse.

Friday, February 08, 2019

This Girl

Yesterday, I attended a memorial service for Jana's dad, Papa Pete. Pete passed away on January 31st, missing his 67th birthday by just four days.

The service was beautiful, and, I know Pete would have been pleased. He would have been especially pleased by the amazing tribute that Jana and her brother paid to him in song. Over the years, I've heard Jana sing in a variety of settings- in the car, on the boat, or, whenever the spirit moved her (often on Porch Night, and, with the aid of a glass of wine)-but, to hear her and Phil sing through tears, for the sole purpose of sending their father off in style, was to hear the sound of angels singing. They. Were. AMAZING. The strength that they showed was beyond comprehension, and, Jana's sweet soprano carried through the church with such power and emotion, it brought the congregation to tears.

I love this human being and I am so incredibly fortunate to call her my friend.

Photo circa 2008, toasting on the shores of the Great Salt Lake

She's now a member of a club that no one really ever wants to belong to, and, as a somewhat seasoned member, myself, I'll make it my mission to support and comfort her.

I also called dibs on her voice for my own funeral, but she said, and I quote "Oh, hell no", and, in the house of God, too, by the way. But, I'm sure He forgave her for that.

Wednesday, February 06, 2019

A Rose by Any Other Name...Would Never Be as Sweet

A number of years ago, I wrote a post about my Aunt Rose. At the time, she was in remission from the cancer that would inevitably claim her life; she was also on a quest to complete her personal Bucket List, and, we were fortunate to witness her accomplish two of those goals.

She rode a horse for the first time in her life.

And she rode a Harley.

We were well aware that our time with her was finite, and, we told ourselves that we had come to terms with the inevitable loss, but, when that loss came earlier this week, I don’t think we were as prepared as we may have believed.

She went on her own terms, and, she went peacefully. I have no doubt that her welcoming party at the Heavenly gates included my grandparents, her husband, her oldest daughter, and both of her brothers; I have no doubt that there was rejoicing.

Back here on Earth, there is also rejoicing-for a life well lived, a release from pain, for the love she left behind. There is also sadness, and emptiness, and healing to be done.

I think I’ve mentioned here before, how very blessed I am to have had the large, boisterous, affectionate, strong, loyal, and courageous extended family that I have; if not, then I am mentioning it now. Growing up under the watchful eye of a large Catholic family was a blessing, and I am saddened by the loss of a huge piece of that family.

Aunt Rose was mild, kind, loving, sweet, and, at the most unexpected times, incredibly funny. I’ll miss her steady presence and her beautiful smile, and, I will be forever thankful for the part she played in this amazing family.