Well, That Didn't Take Long

100,036 miles as of hitting my house today. That voided my so-called 10-year warranty from the manufacturer (that didn't even last 5). So I just bought an extended warranty--no not from one of those phone scams. When my car gets repairs, they are costly. I love my Forester, but damn can it be expensive without insurance. This one will pay for everything and extras to boot for less than the arm and a leg of the first company I scoped out. It was an interesting conversation explaining how I have 25k miles per year without it being commercial use. He didn't believe me at first, then I explained the middle-of-nowhere home/work situation. No really. I drive. Plus 1800 mile trips to SD. So now I have paid an arm (but not a leg) for peace of mind that I wouldn't have by just setting aside money.

Yup. I Drive.

Alas, the dog licked a hole in his foot (again). He's been in a cone for a week. I keep letting him out to drink and eat and then seeing if he can handle not putting tongue to foot for a while. So far the longest he has gone was about 15 minutes before being re-coned. That means he unable to use the doggy door, and that makes him incredibly mopey. He is the saddest dog that ever did dog. Complete with laying down and letting out the loudest sighs he can possibly manage. I would feel sorry for him, but he has access to his couch and toys and scritchies and the possibility of freedom. But all he knows is that it itches and licking it feels better. I can't fault him. I've been known to make wounds worse by futzing with them as well.

Thanks to time change I am still jet lagged, despite it changing over last Sunday. I do not adjust well. On a good note, it means that I feel like I need to eat all night for one hour less than a week ago. The sun goes down and the munchies ensue, so I have less time to munch uncontrollably. Which means that now I am just thinking that it is dinner time (at 6:20pm). Yet I am still tired at regular bed time. Which is strange. But that's brainz for you!

And finally, I found out an incredible new development: I can stand up from the floor without using my hands or arms. I haven't been able to do that for the last 13 years (at least) thanks to a long time of having to use crutches and canes due to the stupid rheumatoid arthritis. I am just now, thanks to the gym workouts, able to do it! I keep finding small things that the work has improved and it just makes me smile and have even more reason to get there and work out. Of course, a couple days after abusing my legs and my knees are screaming at me. I think it's worth it. Now pass the ibuprofen.

Coping Mechanisms

Long ago, when I was but a small and imaginative child, I had an imaginary friend: Mousie. Mousie was neither male nor female, though I think now that Mousie was usually a she. So she and I went on grand adventures and escapades. She was very much real, yet I always knew somehow she was in my mind. 

She was real enough, though, that one day I told my brother that Mousie was sitting where he was about to sit. And he plopped down anyway. Big mistake. According to my mother's recollections, he ended up screaming at my mom to, "Make her stop!". I just kept yelling at him that he had sat on Mousie and attacked my much-older-than-myself brother. His purposeful act alone was an unforgiveable offence. (Though I did eventually forgive him.) I only stopped after he apologized to Mousie. He learned his lesson.

Looking back I can see that Mousie was how I dealt with the world, especially when my dad was gone for work. He would be gone for months at a time which as far as I can tell was usually during the winter. As I got older that would change to being gone throughout other months. To add to the existence of my friend another creation, Daddy Mousie, would travel with him while my own friend stayed at home with me. It was how I dealt with his absence. And it must have worked. 

So I bring you: Mousie.

Yup! I have a new tattoo. Mousie is sitting in a teacup with a Zelda crest and a spoon. That spoon relates to Spoon Theory which explains how there is only so much energy in a day and each task takes some of that energy. The Zelda crest? Let's face it, I just love Zelda.

And the best part? My mom designed it! I can carry that with me.

Now I just have to remember not to gain weight again or my tattoos will warp, and this one has very fine lines. I'm pleased with how it turned out. And I have my very own Mousie to help me through future hard times that reminds me to hold onto at least one spoon for when it is needed.

Merry Christmas Eve—Alone

And that suits me just fine.

Originally my plan was to spend last weekend at home and up in the city, making chocolates, hanging out with the dog, and overall just chillin'. That did not happen,

Not one bit.

I managed to get the norovirus gut bug from hell starting Thursday night. To put it in perspective, I slept on the bathroom floor for two days. I don't remember Friday. Of which I am probably very appreciative. I just got back to real food yesterday, if that gives you an idea of what tore through my system. But that is mostly taken care of. 

Between that, COVID last month, and whatever-the-hell I had in September, I got sick more in four months than I have in the past two years. I think. I may be having selective memory. But at least I had actual sick leave thanks to New Mexico law this year that got me through COVID. The other two times have blessedly been over weekends or vacations. That week of COVID would have cleared out my originally given three days that I had last year leaving me with nothing for the various migraines that I have begun to have over the past year (since my hysterectomy they have been rare, but more as of late). Thank you, New Mexico, for ensuring that I have reasonable sick leave!

So I got to spend the time Dad was in town for the parental units' anniversary mostly out of commission. And that means that I didn't get to visit like I would have liked. It also meant that my expected partial weekend on my own was a little less enjoyable than planned. Instead, I chose to spend this weekend at home instead spending New Year's weekend up with Mom. I needed a break.

And that means that I am spending Christmas with the dog at home without the pressure of cooking, appearing put together, and facing the outpouring of spoons that I just don't have. Boss gave me Tuesday off, so my weekend is an extra day longer. I have me. I have the dog. I'll have spoon recovery. I'm good. 

On the dog. Dad found a lump on the pooch's side that I didn't know of since it isn't a place I usually scritch. So there is a vet trip on Friday and back to Albuquerque. Hoping that he just has a lipoma that can be ignored, but I need to make sure. I'm not really freaking out about it yet since there's nothing I can do about it. Oh, I'll panic eventually once I am closer to the visit/already in the visit, but for now I am calm. 

But for now, no panicking, no people, no (or little) stress. I am using a couple spoons for dinner tonight, but those will be easily recovered tomorrow.

Oh! And on spoons: Mousie (the original imaginary friend), spoon (spoonies), and teacup (TEA!) are about to be on my arm. All based on my momma's sketch after mentioning that I wanted these things on a wrist tattoo.  Here. Have a sketch.

Life is Good, Despite Interference

I remember rock climbing every weekend, horse riding, belly dancing, and martial arts of various types. That would have been from 2003 to 2006. Those days are gone, and that's okay with me. It was too much work since a few of those overlapped others, even on the same day. I learned the meaning of 'square horse stance' from riding a square-backed horse and then doing the practice an hour later. But I was younger and far less...um...experienced in life. Injuries, health issues, mental wringers, and sheer laziness have all kicked in. But I am going to get a little better than complete couch potato, and so far it is working.

These Kick My Rear

I have gotten back to eating responsibly (once again), even if it is realizing that some days will have more food or less/no exercise than others. That combined with the strength training I have been doing at the gym and home have started me down on the scale again. I'm back below/at 180 pounds consistently now, so I know that I am making progress. I keep waiting for the time where I can get off the floor from a kneeling position rather than scrambling to both feet or using furniture as a crutch. Upper body? It's going to get better and maybe even fill out the skin that has decided to be bat wings. (I am not really expecting much on that front since even when I was rock climbing I had wings. Just my body being me.)

Got my foot fixed (once again with a steroid injection, luckily not the bone issues like earlier) so I can be back on the treadmill for at least short amounts while I build back up that muscle and have an easy warmup. Have I mentioned that I love my podiatrist lately? Because I do.

And Monday I worked my legs off. Stairs are not my friends. Yesterday was shoulders and back. I am just starting to feel those muscles. This is progress. I didn't overdo myself (at least not too much) as far as I can tell. It is going to take some time to find what works best. And then I get to switch it up again to start all over again with different muscles. And maybe get in a swim or two. We'll see. 

And I feel good.

Holidays are Bittersweet

I'm always leery of what my brain is going to do with holidays. Sometimes they are just like any other day and other times I get hit with a brick to the brain. Thanksgiving, humble though this year was, reminded me of chosen-family celebrations from long ago. When we each took a dish and ran with it. Jason? Tasty tasty dinner rolls. Me? Usually pecan pie with nuts held together with a tiny bit of maple-flavored goo. Not low calorie, to say the least. And then there were all the other dishes which we started in on in the afternoon and continued to feast upon throughout the night. 

Not My Pie. Mine Was Better.

Silliness ensued, of course. I don't remember if there was booze, but I am guessing that there was--and before you get any ideas, I don't remember because of the time since then, not because I was pickled. Maybe. So-called shirtless o'clock probably hit around dark with a pile of us on the floor/couch watching a bad movie or playing Guitar Hero. And all the bad and raunchy jokes we could come up with. There were many.

But those times are gone. Left behind are the good memories to carry onward. And that is okay. I hold onto those memories and stash them for darker times. Times when my brain can't hold onto the light. So I shove the good memories into my consciousness to try to force out the bad. It usually helps, so I call that a win.

So carry on, declare shirtless o'clock, and tease those around you mercilessly while eating all the good food loving family can create.

The Empty Lectern

This time of year is when Jason started really declining. 10.5 years since he passed, but the slow progression of his cancer really became evident at this point in the year. But I am healing over time. And it also brings up hard memories that I also cherish just as much as the good. 

One example is when he was supposed to deliver a presentation to the IEEE conference in Santa Fe in December of 2012. He wanted so badly to go, but his speech and cognition was just not there enough anymore for a live presentation. I offered to be his spokesperson, but we both knew that it was just not going to happen. It was with heavy hearts that we canceled his presentation, knowing that we had reached a milestone that we never wanted to happen. He was on what we referred to as the Tumor Fryer (I have a previous blog referring to that one here) and we were hoping for a miracle but realizing that miracles are few and far between. He had worked so hard to be invited to that event and it crushed him knowing that he couldn't participate. He decided not to go at all due to his speech issues.

The Empty Lectern

Having to cancel that presentation was, in some ways, an admission of defeat. An admission that the inevitable was happening. Something that we had staved off for far longer than any of his doctors though possible--all thanks to friends and family that supported us physically, financially, and emotionally. You have no idea how much you all helped, especially just knowing that someone was thinking about us and rooting us on.  (Are there onions being chopped in here? I feel onions.) Thank you all so much!

Memories of Beginnings

Just how did I meet my husband? I was clueless to his advances, despite his impressive skills at massage that he shared with me. So I remember well when I met him in my eyes. Not when I knew he had a Thing for me, just who he was. 

2010 Easter--not enough photos of both of us

Back in 2005 I was belly dancing, living on a good healthy diet, and walking everywhere on my college campus (which, admittedly, is small). So in short: I was built. I also was in a couple short acting skits that he was manning lights for. Cue the massages. In hindsight, a normal person would have taken this as being hit upon. Nope. Clueless. But I did look damn good in that cocktail dress I work for one of the skits.

One of my fellow actors invited us both to her house for a gathering which turned into more gatherings and a steady helping of bad movies, good company...and more of those sweet sweet massages.

But I was STILL clueless.

He asked me out once, but I turned him down as I was more focused on classes that were kicking my butt. (Calculus, I'm looking at you.) So we continued the gatherings and, unbeknownst to me, basically started going out with him on accident. Our first 'date' was actually instigated by one of the hosts of the gatherings much later on. At that point I realized that, no really, I was in a Relationship. Which confused me to no end since I never saw it coming. To be exact, I had never really been in a dedicated relationship before, so it was all new territory.

I have turned down quite a few people because I was an incorrigible flirt and had no intention of following through on the flirting. That is just how my friends and I played together. I still don't notice romantic/um...athletic attention, nor do I seek it out. I am quite happy to be a dog mom and ruler of my domain with no intention of changing that fact. Luckily my family is not pushing me to get married again or start up a relationship. They're fine with me as I am. 

But one thing I do miss is being more...I don't know...desirable? Yet I don't want the long-term attention, just a little encouragement that I have some attraction from the world. A push to my self-esteem as it were. And that is one reason that I am trying so hard, and sometimes stalling, at working toward a healthier me. Will I ever be in the shape I was when I was rock climbing, walking, belly dancing, and lifting weights? HAH! Nope. That's just too damn much work. But I want to see what I can do with what spoons I have. The gym workouts are happening. The damnable tendon damage and muscle use kicks in 48 hours post-exercising, but it will be worth it if it makes me stronger, more flexible, and--as a side effect--more toned. I want this for me, but there is that part of my mind that really wants it for, lets face it, attention. And I think that's perfectly fine so long as the other reasons come first.