This may be early, late, or irrelevant to you or to where you are in the world, but for what it’s worth: Happy Christmas Eve!

 

 

(#christmasapp)

I made gingerbread cookies for a gathering on Saturday, and the friend I met for lunch the next day got some, too. Of course I had to post the recipe when it was requested! I forgot to take a pic before the cookies disappeared at my house, but Caroline took one at hers and kindly sent it over. It’s helpful to have a pic to go with a recipe, right?

 

 

I’ve been making Honey’s Ginger Snaps for over 30 years. They were a part of a holiday treat spread at someone’s house, and my mom knew the person who brought them, and I asked her to ask for the recipe, AND I modified the recipe over the decades. Originally, the recipe asks for 2 teaspoons each of all the spices (ground cloves, ginger, and cinnamon), and 4 tablespoons of molasses. I cut the cloves and ginger down to 1 teaspoon each, and I use 3 tablespoons of molasses instead of 4. (The original recipe also says that you can use Karo syrup rather than molasses, but I’ve never made them with Karo.) You can adjust the spice levels to your own taste, as I did.

I also modified the recipe to make it unrefined and vegan: I use whole wheat flour rather than white, Earth Balance buttery spread rather than butter (the original recipes asks for either margarine or butter), and a plant-based egg replacer to equal 1 egg rather than an actual egg.

HONEY’S GINGER SNAPS

Sift together:

• 2 1/2 cups whole wheat flour (or flour of choice)
• 2 tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp ground cloves
• 1 tsp ground ginger
• 2 tsps ground cinnamon

Cream together:

• 3/4 cup Earth Balance buttery spread, softened (or butter/margarine of choice)*
• 1 cup sweetener of choice
• Bob’s Red Mill Egg Replacer = 1 egg
• 3 Tbs molasses

Instructions

[Preheat oven to 325F]

–Mix the sifted dry ingredients into the larger bowl of creamed ingredients. Chill dough overnight.

–Use a teaspoon to scoop the dough and form into small round balls; roll in sugar, cake decorations, candy sprinkles, etc.

–Place on a greased baking sheet and bake for 10-13 minutes**

~~~~~

*If you use butter, go with UNSALTED
**I bake mine for the minimum 10 minutes, so they come out soft. If you want your ginger snaps to be snappy, bake them for longer!

~~~~~

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate!

 

 

At least one of you who read my last post sent prayers and blessings to Salem, because that same night, our feral furbaby returned to her laundry room and slept in her bed!

The morning after I wrote about Salem not sleeping here anymore on these cold nights – yesterday morning – Callaghan saw her emerge through the laundry room cat door before he went out to feed her breakfast. An hour later, I checked Salem’s bed and found her fleecy cream blanket properly packed down into a round cat shape, lined sparsely with black fur, and speckled with bits of leaves and dirt. Salem!

She slept here that night, and she slept here last night, too, and… she’s just back. I don’t know how or why, but she decided to come back the night I wrote about it.

Thank you.

There’s something about this blog space, too, I think. It’s kind of like magic how I’ll lament something here, and then the thing will fix itself… and I mean the silliest things, too. I’m thinking of the time I wrote about how doing dishes grossed me out to where I couldn’t bring myself to do them, and I was happy drying/unloading/putting them away. I’ve been doing dishes ever since! It was as if writing about how I hated it reversed the hating it into not minding it. My anti-dishwashing tongue-in-cheek rant was invalid almost immediately after I posted it.

And Salem came back to sleep in her laundry room/bed immediately after I posted about that.

And I’m so relieved and grateful.

 

Happy Friday Eve, all!

 

 

There’s a special kind of angst that comes from failing to protect a being who needs protection. I never thought I’d sit here sharing this feeling with you, but it’s been bothering me so much lately that I had little else on my mind when I sat down here to talk to you guys today.

Salem, our feral cat, used to sleep in our laundry room, which is an outdoor room. She would sleep and lounge and stretch and luxuriate in the bed I made for her, a pile of carefully folded towels and layers of cozy blankets beneath a little table set up against a wall, with a huge, snuggly blanket folded in half and wrapped around the whole thing, all plush and warm. She loved it. Callaghan and I would watch her through the security camera mounted on the opposite wall, and we saw how much she loved it.

Then I had to go and make it “better.”

Nighttime temperatures have been dropping into the low 40’s, so I decided to put in a pet heating pad. Instead of making her more comfortable, it scared her away. She hasn’t slept in her laundry room since. It’s been so cold here in the desert; the whole point of this specially-designed-for-dogs-and-cats heating pad (which has very good reviews from dog and cat parents on Amazon) was to keep her bed at body temperature during these colder nights.

The problem? The pet heating pad works well, but it has a very strong industrial/chemical odor. Our outdoor furbaby’s encyclopedia of scents can’t explain that the odor belongs to a weird yet harmless inanimate object. Not to mention, it’s just an unpleasant, offensive scent. She hates it. She’s afraid of it. And I realized it after it was too late.

Before the noxious heating pad, Salem’s biggest laundry room threat was other stray cats. There’s this one male cat in particular who can’t help but be a male cat, spraying and/or urinating on her bedding to mark it as his. We’ve been cycling through this pattern the same way we did last winter: tomcat contaminates Salem’s bed, Salem is duly deterred, I go in with my attuned olfactory sense and my black light, find the source of the odor, and do what needs to be done (e.g. laundry) to restore her perfect sleeping conditions. Salem comes back to sleep in her bed again. She always comes back!

She hasn’t come back since the pet heating pad entered the picture, though. Every morning I go into the laundry room hoping to see signs of Salem on the cream-colored blankets – black fur, bits of leaves and dirt – and nothing.

Adding to the misfortune of it all was the fact that it took me a few days to figure it out. Salem’s blankets were saturated with this awful odor! I quickly bore away the pet heating pad and laundered her bedding and put it back together, but Salem had already decided that the odor belonged to an unidentifiable and dangerous beast. She always won the territory war with the male cat, but she lost the war with the heating pad… and I was the one who brought in the vile foe and lined her bed with it.

I’m so mad at myself. When I found her bed unslept-in yet again this morning, my anger at myself drove me to rage-clean the house.

The nights are getting colder and colder, and Salem isn’t sleeping in her bed, and I can’t stop thinking about it.

She still considers our yard to be her yard, though, and that’s good. She comes and goes during the day, hanging out in her favorite spots, eating her meals and snacks on the patio, and drinking from her “watering hole” near Geronimo’s burrow. Sometimes, in the evening, I sit in the dining room and watch her through the sliding-glass door. We connect and bond with eyeblink-kisses. Then the sun sets, and she goes away.

She seems sad. Maybe it’s just me seeing that through the lens of guilt, but I’m sure that she is sad that she can’t sleep in her cozy bed anymore.

 

Thank you for listening to my tale of woe. I’ll certainly come back here all kinds of elated if she starts sleeping in her laundry room again!

 

 

It’s been months and months and months since I last wrote about my writing life. I’m working on my novel again, so I’m back with an update.* You might remember – or maybe you weren’t aware, if you’re new here – that I completed my first novel in the summer of 2018. Now I’m burrowing back into the manuscript to work on revisions.

I don’t have an agent (yet!**), but an agent is guiding me, in a sense. Two days after I queried her, she asked for the complete manuscript. Three days after I sent it, she’d read the entire thing, and she replied with a gorgeous, long email. She loves the novel, but she doesn’t think it’s quite ready for a publisher. She discussed in detail three specific aspects of the manuscript that could be addressed. She then concluded, “I’d welcome an opportunity to read the manuscript again” (should I decide to revise it).

I took this as an invitation, and I accepted it, which brings me to today’s writing update: I’m revising my manuscript so that I can resubmit it to this agent. Specifically, I’m working on giving more space to supporting characters, adjusting the pacing, and cutting back some of the passages by 20-30%.

Her praise, suggestions, and invitation to resubmit in no way guarantees that she’ll offer me representation after reading my revised manuscript, I know… but there’s no question that I’ll do it! I’m thankful that she’s taken the time that she has with my novel, especially considering literary agents’ overwhelming workloads. To have revision suggestions from such high authority is invaluable. Not only is it encouraging, but it’s an opportunity for growth and experience. I’m taking this on with zero attachment to outcome.

*I can’t say that I’ll be posting regular writing updates throughout this process, though I might. We’ll see!

**If this agent doesn’t take me on, then another one will, perhaps.

 

Photo backstory + apology: I was taking selfies when Callaghan came around the corner and started talking to me. I looked over at him a second before I took this shot. It turned out to be the only pic wherein the framed “roses” painting in the background is even slightly straight, and so this is the one I chose to go here. I’m sorry that I’m not looking at the camera. Also, you’re welcome for picking a selfie that won’t make you seasick, because in all of the others, that picture on the wall behind me made the room look like the inside of a sinking ship.

Happy Friday Eve!

 

 

I wound up having to re-decorate my office barely two months after I finished my Haunted Cathedral theme. It was fun while it lasted, as they say.

What happened? My house had been literally pulled apart and scattered for over six months, and it was finally time to deal with the fall-out. (I opted to keep our major home renovation out of my blog, because it went on and on and on starting when the A/C debacle ended in May. Among other reasons, I didn’t want this to turn into a HOME RENOVATION blog. You already had to sit through my posts about the A/C.)

After ignoring the mess for so long, I finally jostled myself awake from my stupor of resistance and willful procrastination. Being grounded post-surgery left me with no more excuses. Plus, I didn’t like having a room piled high with stuff. I wanted my guest bedroom back!

That’s right – despite minimalizing more during the renovation, we still had things piled up in the guest bedroom. We had furniture and rugs; bedding and lamps; pictures and candles; cushions and clocks and wastebaskets; cat toys and kitchen items; tools and leftover parts; old fixtures and just, I don’t know, odds and ends of all kinds… because in addition to our own stuff, we had renovation leftovers and debris. There were items to be trashed. There were items to be returned to Home Depot. We had yet more things for the Goodwill. Some of the stuff, we gave away. Some of it went into the alley for college students to scavenge.

And inevitably, I guess, some of it ended up in my office, where it disrupted the Haunted Cathedral theme I’d just completed. Truth be told, I felt kind of selfish having this perfectly decorated room all to myself while there were things that had nowhere to go. All the furniture-rearranging and storage space reorganizing (four closets!) I did wasn’t enough.

There was no use in fighting it. Ultimately, though, chaos became a catalyst as creative energy took over and inspired me in the direction of a new vibe. I got into it!

Revolving around the black moon tapestry that used to be in our bedroom, the vibe in my office turned out to be celestial and futuristic, and the space homey rather than merely decorated. Where office v1 was plants-only/no decor, and office v2  was Haunted Cathedral/themed decor, this new version is simply an agglomeration of stuff over which I threw some blue string lights; I took the jumble of miscellany and tried to shape it into something that proclaims I meant to do this. The string lights and the new tapestry above my desk are my only new acquisitions. They help to make sense of it all.

By day:

 

(The moon tapestry used to be in our bedroom. It came down when we painted the whole house, and we never put it back up. It inspired my new vision for this space.)

 

(Nenette has to have her glass of water at all times. ~I’m trying hard to save Jerome there on the left side of the bookshelf. It’s not looking good. Sad face.)

 

(Here’s my new tapestry, one of the two things I bought… this, and the string lights.)

 

 

(These are the same flowers I had in my Haunted Cathedral theme.)

 

(I’m already in January. I didn’t want to wait to hang up the calendar, which was a gift from Callaghan.)

 

(I accidentally bought a roll of string lights 10 miles long. The bulk of the roll ended up in the Buddha’s lap.)

 

 

(The dress is hanging there temporarily. I wore it to a party last weekend, and I’ll wear it to another party this weekend. Then it will go back into the closet.)

 

(Still, “No one is perfect.” This tee is still where it was, only it’s behind the dress at the moment. Grendel the Gargoyle also remains.)

 

(I’m finding it easier to capture Nenette in this new office arrangement.)

 

 

At dusk:

 

(As the day darkens, you can see my laughable attempt at shaping the lights into a Capricorn symbol. It’s close enough, though. ~The brown patches on the cream rug are made of Nenette’s bronze fur. She loves to sleep on this rug. I didn’t lint-roll it for these pics. This is real life.)

 

 

 

(Flamingo the tree, that is.)

 

(Office in the front, club in the back!)

 

At night:

 

 

(She sleeps on all of the rugs, actually.)

 

(I love the combination of the pink salt lamp and the blue lights. They create a purple light.)

 

(Plant family!)

 

 

(The antique mirror leans in the corner behind Flamingo, my tree. It’s a place of honor.)

 

 

(The Haunted Cathedral isn’t going anywhere. It’s staying right where it’s been from Day 1).

 

 

And there you have it.

Incidentally, the completion of this project happens to coincide with the revision phase of my novel, which I’ll tell you about in a near-future “writing updates” post.

I hope you enjoyed this unexpected office updates post! Thanks for sticking around, always.

 

 

This week was rad, because I WENT BACK TO THE GYM.

Ahem.

I hadn’t seen the inside of a gym since before Halloween, which is crazy. I went to Body Pump on Monday, and again yesterday, and I already feel 100% better. It’s incredible how working out transforms my entire being for the positive.

Since we’re here, let’s do a quick “2019 workout year in review”:

The year’s shenanegans included random life interruptions such as medical appointments, people coming to do work on the house, and out-of-town commitments, but it was due to big events starting at the end of July that I’ve stayed home from the gym more this year than any year since 2013. Since I wounded my ankle on July 25, I’ve only gone to the gym 25 times until this week.

It was the ankle incident (there following an extended period of healing and not being able to wear shoes), and surgery (there following an extended period of healing and not being able to eat). In between, I had two severe 5-8 day autoimmune flares three weeks apart.

We’ve arrived at December, and there are eight Body Pump days left between now and Christmas. I plan to hit all of them and get back into cardio. Unbelievably, I haven’t done any cardio at all in over six months!

My gym will open two new locations in the next six weeks; between them, I’m hoping to find a morning BODY COMBAT class I can attend. Meanwhile, I’m going to start walking. I can wear shoes other than high-tops now, so I need to get my ass moving to make up for lost time. A body needs cardio. It’s mandatory.

It was just such a relief to return to Body Pump this week. It was interesting, too: I came back to more changes. I found myself getting emotional with nostalgia during yesterday’s class when the instructor took us through a mix of old, old tracks. Everything is different now, going to a new gym and attending three different locations and doing Body Pump classes with all new instructors, and I miss the old days of Pump when I first started… but things do change.

All I can say is that a person is lucky to have a gym friend turned very cool friend-friend who’s been a constant since BODY COMBAT DAY 1 waaay back. She’s the one who convinced me to start Body Pump after I said I’d NEVER. I think I might finally join her at zumba (another thing I’ve insisted I’d NEVER). You’ll know if I’m there. I’ll be the one in the back flailing around like an inflatable air tube man advertising a car dealership.

 

 

Okay, bye!

 

 

Many changes took place in our house over the summer. It’s basically a different house now, in more ways than I care to describe at the moment. This moment is the moment of my office, and it’s about time!

When my office had brown walls, brown carpet, and a brown ceiling fan, I loved having my plant family as my only décor. My desk was in the center of the room, facing the window. I was surrounded by greenery. It was earthy and calming.

After we re-carpeted the bedrooms, re-painted the walls, and replaced the ceiling fans, we had gray carpeting, white walls, and white ceiling fans. Gone were the cozy earth tones that yet made the house feel smaller and my pictures look strange with inconsistent lighting.

Facing the blank slate of my office inspired me to rearrange the furniture, and also to decorate. The changes put me in the mood to create a theme!

I had nothing particular in mind when I happened upon this framed black-and-white print of England’s Canterbury Cathedral at the Goodwill. I was elated. This is a gorgeous interior shot, and I found the picture to be in excellent condition.

 

 

 

I carried the $5.00 print to the check-out thinking of the spirits that inhabit the famous Anglican cathedral in Canterbury. I thought of my old copy of Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales. I had all kinds of ideas in mind.

Canterbury Cathedral is a stunning monument of Gothic architecture, so all things considered, the vision came easily: “Anglo-Saxon Ecclesiastical Gothic,” or “Haunted Cathedral,” to get more to the point. The theme also pays tribute to my English side. I’ve recognized my Japanese side in past décor themes, but never my English side.

[My French husband has no comment. He’s always joked that he “only hates half of me” – the half that isn’t Japanese. He’s a bit miffed now that there’s an Anglo-Saxon-themed room in the house, but it’s my office, after all.]

It was early in July when I found this print. I slowly began to collect things. My “Summer office updates” got pushed into the next season, but it was worth it to wait for stores to fill up their “occasion” aisles with Halloween décor. I’m glad that I waited, too, because I was able to find that mysterious antique mirror on Craigslist. The Gothic design-inspired mirror works beautifully in this theme. It matches the architecture of Canterbury Cathedral.

Canterbury Cathedral is haunted by the ghost of Archbishop Thomas Becket and those of several others who were murdered there, but I did not create a murder scene in my office.

I do believe that the antique mirror is haunted, though…. (More on this later.)

The first item I picked up for my theme was this cathedral stained glass tapestry from an artist on Etsy. I’ll take you around the office from there, starting with my desk corner and going clockwise around the room. Enjoy!

 

 

 

(I stacked my two low bookcases to make a hutch behind my desk. The décor you see here is on the hutch part.)

 

 

 

(A few of the English literature textbooks I’ve refused to let go.)

 

 

 

 

 

(I got this trunk in Germany back when it was West Germany, but we’ll just pretend that I got it in England.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

(I took this pic at almost three o’clock in the morning. I was still up because I’d decided to make a pie in the middle of the night. I’d just finished it.)

(Also, this was a plain, white clock. I arranged a black satin ribbon around it and made the pendulum with a couple of fake roses.)

 

 

(This t-shirt currently up on my closet door is one of two departures from the theme. It’s just the message I need to see in my office right now.)

 

 

(The gargoyle above the t-shirt, though, is Grendel from the Anglo-Saxon epic poem Beowulf.)

 

 

(Buddha fountain – the second departure from my theme.)

 

 

(The two bags between which I’m currently alternating.)

 

 

(This brings us back around to the tapestry in my desk corner.)

 

 

 

 

 

(The only picture I took of my actual desk, I realized!)

This is where I’m sitting right now, and we’ve arrived at The End. I hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you’re interested in where I got some of the décor pieces. It was all very affordable.

Happy Friday Eve, my friends.

 

 

I had my three-hour neuropsych evaluation at the V.A. last week. As in Palo Alto back in June, it constituted an exhausting mental gymnastics meet from start to finish, though it was even more in-depth. The battery of tests revealed that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with my brain functioning.

Looking at a range of results typical for people my age, I came out average to above-average on every section of the evaluation; that is, my brain performs as average in most categories, and better than average in several others. This is a relief.

It gives me no excuse, though.

Having found that nothing is going awry with my brain in any biological sense, I’ve self-diagnosed: I’m a ditz. I’m sometimes forgetful, sometimes scattered; I sometimes get preoccupied and lose things and lose track of things. And here I thought I only had the hair of a stereotypical absentminded professor!

(This last week, I managed to lose a new box of Kleenex. I remember removing the cardboard tab from the box and putting it in the recycle bin. A little while later, I went to get a tissue, and I couldn’t find the box. Going all over the house in search of it led to nothing.)

My appointment was last week Friday. It was September 20th, but the V.A. was already getting festive, I was pleased to find. I happened upon these skeleton earrings for $8.00 in the V.A. retail store. Of course I had to buy them and put them on immediately and take a pic! Incidentally, I’ve discovered that the best lighting for selfies in my house is in the dining room side of my kitchen.

Skeleton earrings, plus the Marilyn Manson tee you haven’t seen:

 

 

 

At any rate, the case of my brain is officially closed. This is me wrapping it up for you. We can now forget this ever happened. Knowing me, I’ll have forgotten by the time you read this.

Happy Friday Eve… and hey! I just realized that this is my last post of September. I’ll share my September Favorites list on Tuesday, and after that, it’s SHORT HORROR OCTOBER, my friends. I’ll preface the series with my updated office tour… yeah, the one I’ve been talking about for the last three months… but that’ll be appropriate for the season.

 

 

This week has been satisfying, as in:

…when you have a Body Pump substitute instructor who allows the class to vote out the shoulder track, and your outnumbered ass leaves feeling like you did an incomplete workout, because you did (you didn’t have time to work shoulders on your own), but then the following week’s sub for the same class makes up for it 500% on account of doing the shoulder track and being one of the best instructors ever, regardless.

…when the changing weather brings your scale-baby out of his burrow twice a day, morning and late-afternoon, and you spend as much time with him as possible because mother/tortoise bonding time is important and he needs to eat all of his favorite lettuce and whatever hibiscus flowers can be found on the bushes this late in the season.

—when you’re on a long drive with your friend and your conversation turns to the critical matter of vampires who unknowingly dine on the blood of humans infected with zombie virus, and you debate whether they’re vampire-zombies or zombie-vampires, and you discuss the details of how they’d do life as double-undeads in either case.

…when you’re feeling festive so you dye your hair darker and polish your nails a celestial shade and pick up an antique, haunted mirror and thrift a fake purplish-black pumpkin coated in fake frost that you know will look rad in your office, and it does, in your opinion.

—when you rearrange your favorite soundcloud playlist as appropriate for the season, because summer is officially over in FOUR DAYS, so it’s already Halloween, and no argument is valid.

 

 

Happy Friday Eve!

 

 

I have an update on last week Tuesday’s post topic! My friend Margaret offered to take me to get the haunted mirror, and so we went… and we made a whole splendiferous day of it. That was Sunday. Now that the mirror is home and the listing has been removed from Craigslist, I can tell you that it was down in Tucson. What casual visitor doesn’t love a Sunday on Fourth Avenue in Tucson? That whole town’s got a great vibe.

 

 

(No, Mom, I didn’t get another tattoo. Haha.)

Traffic was good, so it took just less than two hours to get there. Tuscon is 101 miles south of my house, and Sedona is 100 miles north, but it takes a little longer to get to Sedona because of the terrain and altitude of the high desert. The drive to Sedona usually ends up being almost exactly two hours long.

 

 

Let me tell you about the mirror, though! It’s a beauty. It’s an authentic antique, said my antique expert friend and partner-in-crime, and I’ve currently got it leaning against the wall on my antique German trunk. I think I’ll leave it there.

 

 

In case you were wondering, never fear – I do plan to follow up on my threats to present an updated office tour. It’s coming together, this place. It’s very nearly finished. My décor theme is “haunted cathedral,” and this mysterious little mirror fits in perfectly! I’ve been waiting for Halloween season to arrive in all its commercial glory so I could find inexpensive finishing touches to add. (As far as I’m concerned, Halloween season is when you buy “occasion” stuff for year-round.) This mirror, though, is a piece of high quality. I haven’t seen evidence of possession yet, but it definitely looks like it has stories to tell.

 

 

Someone on Craigslist is selling an antique wall mirror, which caught my eye with its unusual design. I found it to be precious and intriguing. I love antiques.

According to the ad text, the petite mirror has been in the seller’s family for at least three generations, but the seller knows nothing more about it. They’re asking for $25.00.

If you know me, you know the first thing I thought, right? Haunted mirror! The second thing I thought was I must have it. 

Take a look:

 

 

The alluring ad text reads:

Very old wall mirror. It has been in my family for at least 3 generations but I know nothing else about it. Frame is wood , handle is metal and it measures 26 1/2 inches long and 7 3/4 inches wide. 25.00 . Call if interested. No texts.

I place the call. After several rings, the call goes to voice mail. A woman picks up as I’m leaving my brief message. She has trouble hearing me, she says. She’s “getting a strange vibration on the line,” and could I call her back?

Of course I can!

My second call goes directly to voice mail; I hang up without leaving a message. When I try a third time two minutes later, the same woman answers. The connection is better, but my inquiry mystifies her. “A mirror? On Craigslist?” She turns away from her phone and calls: “Someone is asking about a mirror…? On Craigslist?”

She puts her mouth back to the phone and tells me that I’ll have to speak with her husband, because she has no idea about the mirror.

The husband gets on the phone and confirms that the mirror is still for sale. He kindly answers my next question by repeating the verbiage in the ad, but he also shares that the mirror had belonged to his grandmother’s aunt. They’d found it in her house. This information stirs up my imagination even more, because now there’s a grandmother’s aunt in the picture! The mirror is getting spookier by the moment.

Unfortunately, the seller and his bewitching mirror are two hours away.

Lamenting the mileage between us, I wonder out loud whether he thinks the mirror might be available for the foreseeable future (no pun intended). The seller gives a dry chuckle as he remarks, “Well, I’ve only had two calls about this mirror. There’s been very little interest in it in four months.”

Why aren’t the callers going through with the sale? The mirror is only $25.00!

Now I want the mirror even more.

Two weeks later, the mirror is still up for sale, and distance remains the issue. I’m not sure that I have four hours to spend in a car going to pick up a mirror. Four hours round-trip to retrieve a mirror could also be a four-hour road trip to Las Vegas, where I could spend a night at the El Cortez and also catch The Australian Bee Gees Show – A Tribute to the Bee Gees. Time permitting, I could see Zombie Burlesque, too! That kind of a weekend would be worth the additional four hours getting back to Phoenix.

Callaghan says that the mirror probably is haunted, so I don’t need it. My own thought is that if the mirror is actually haunted, then I definitely need it.

It’s not looking likely, my friends, but if you see this mirror here again, it’ll be because it made its way to my office.

 

 

Yesterday morning, I jumped out of bed and into the car 20 minutes later to get to Body Pump. Like, that never happens! I didn’t think I’d land a spot in the class. I’d spent all of the previous day up until midnight reloading the gym app every half-hour in hopes that someone would drop their spot in the “FULL” class. I’d gone to bed thinking, well, there might be a last-minute cancellation in the morning.

And lo, there was one! When I got up with the alarm at 6:30am, the class was still full. When the alarm woke me up again two hours later, one spot was open. I grabbed it. Then I realized that I had to be on the road in 20 minutes if I wanted to make it on time, as none of my new gyms’ locations are close to me considering that I take surface streets everywhere. (You might remember that I don’t drive on the freeway anymore.)

Monday morning Body Pump always fills up to the max, but everyone wanted to go on Labor Day Monday. Yesterday’s class reached its limit within a few hours of open reservation on Sunday morning; it was full by noon!

I was elated to get my spot. I just had time to scrub my retainers and brush my teeth, throw my sunscreen and three different kinds of nutrition bars into my bag, jump into some gym clothes and shoes, gulp down my morning meds and supplements, and fill my thermos with water before hopping into the car.

Callaghan made fun of me for being that person doing her face (but it was just sunscreen!) while driving, though I did it while stopped at a red light. It’s hard to put on sunscreen while shoving protein bars into your mouth, by the way.

When I got to the gym, I found a line wrapped around the side of the group fitness room as people waited for the earlier class to finish.

By the time the class was set to begin, there were so many people in the room that we were crowded up to the mirror on either side of the instructor’s platform, and packed from one wall to the other from the sides. Also, yesterday was the first time I’ve seen a Pump class run out of equipment at my new gym.

The (substitute) instructor allowed walk-ins as long as there was still standing room and equipment, but it’s hard to gauge equipment availability when people are streaming in and out of the equipment room to grab weights. She advised us to share our weight plates with others if we weren’t using them at the moment.

I was just elated to be there. It was a kick-ass class with a super motivating substitute instructor who made a point of challenging us. I actually feel my biceps today!

So that was yesterday’s highlight. Today, I had to go to the V.A. in the morning for my annual mammogram. I wore one of my favorite t-shirts, and I took a selfie in it because you didn’t see this tee in my “current favorite t-shirts” post. I had to stop at 15!

 

I cut the neckline out of this one, of course. It’s Depeche Mode.

I’ll post my August Favorites list on Thursday!

 

 

Okay. I tried to narrow it down to ten, and it just wasn’t happening, so I said what the hell, let’s do 15. I have a lot of t-shirts, and I love them all!

Of these 15 shirts, six are band tees, and two are plain (bare of graphics). Then we’ve got a logo shirt; a favorite YouTuber’s merch tee; an AZ pride sort of touristy deal; a random shirt mostly of my own creation; a cartoon shirt; a sports fan shirt; and a horror movie shirt. Three of these shirts have the neckline cut out, because a big part of me never matured past the 90’s. Two of them are raglan-style tees. More than half of them are oversize, and they’re all very comfortable. For whatever reason, though, these 15 tees are the ones I reach for the most.

[I should say that I have a couple of other go-to favorite shirts that I did not include here. One has an approximation of the F-word on it, and the other has the V-word (vegan). I don’t wear either of them outside of the house. They’re hanging-around comfort tees.]

Let’s get on with it, then, in alphabetical order!

 

1). Black-and-white raglan shirt.

 

 

This tee is my attempt at a replacement for my beloved black-and-white Virgin Records raglan shirt. It’s slightly uncomfortably tight on my forearms, but it’s one of my absolute favorites. I found it at Ross a few years ago. It was dirt-cheap.

 

2). Band shirt: Def Leppard.

 

 

This shirt is meaningful to me because Def Leppard (British metal) is probably my favorite hair band, though Joe Elliott didn’t have big, 80’s hair. When I was in high school, I nurtured this bizarre daydream that Joe Elliot was my biological father on account of his being an English musician (my biological father is an English musician still living in England, last I heard) and how cool I thought it would be if I was related to him somehow, never mind that he’s the wrong age. I have three Def Leppard shirts, one of which I got at a Def Leppard concert. That one’s blue and fitted. I wear it to the gym sometimes.

 

3). Cartoon raglan shirt: Donald Duck.

 

 

You’ve seen this one recently. I’m not a big Disney fan, and I have no special affection for this character, but this shirt is so ridiculously comfortable! It’s super thin and soft. I love the way it’s kind of fitted and drapey at the same time, I love its length, and I love that it’s gray and a shade of blue that I really like.

 

4). Horror movie shirt: Halloween.

 

 

Here’s the other tee you’ve seen recently. Halloween is my favorite classic horror slasher flick, and I dig the subdued art on this shirt. “Halloween” doesn’t need to be written on it. A Halloween fan will instantly recognize and identify it.

 

5). Band shirt: Iron Maiden.

 

 

Iron Maiden: another favorite British metal band! If you were into metal in the 70’s and 80’s, you’re familiar with Eddie, Iron Maiden’s mascot (who graces this shirt). This character is iconic. All of Iron Maiden’s artwork and concerts feature him, and he’s always amazing. Have you ever been to an Iron Maiden concert? It’s theater, and good theater, at that, in my opinion.

 

6). Band shirt: Joan Jett and the Blackhearts.

 

 

I got this shirt when I saw Joan Jett perform at Phoenix Pride years ago. I can’t remember the year! I want to say 2009…? I went with a dear friend. Joan was fabulous in concert. Best Pride ever.

 

7). Band shirt: Marilyn Manson.

 

 

I cycle through phases of obsession with Marilyn Manson’s music; I’ve been in one as of late. (I must say, though, that I’m at all times into different genres of music… I’m not just listening to Marilyn Mason right now.) I have two Marilyn Manson tees, and this one’s my favorite. I love the artwork. It’s his art, by the way, in case you didn’t know that Marilyn Manson is also a visual artist.

 

8). Arizona pride shirt: Marilyn Monroe.

 

 

Marilyn Monroe’s association with Arizona wasn’t just that she filmed Bus Stop here; it was also that she loved the Biltmore resort in Phoenix. (Yes, Phoenix. Not Scottsdale. Just saying.) According to her, the Catalina Pool at the Biltmore was Marilyn’s favorite place to sunbathe.

 

9). Band shirt: Motörhead.

 

 

I’m a total poser when I wear this shirt, because I’m not a huge Motörhead fan, and I’m not that versed in their body of work. I know that I like the music of theirs that I’ve heard, but I couldn’t tell you the song titles. This tee landed in my collection because, again, I was attracted to the artwork on it. It’s one of my most comfortable shirts.

 

10). Random t-shirt: No One is Perfect.

 

 

This is the one that’s mostly of my own creation, and I love it so much, I may never wear it! I’d rather just look at it. It’s hanging in my office. Sharpies are wonderful, aren’t they?

 

11). Plain black t-shirt.

 

 

This extremely comfy t-shirt is my go-to when I’m not feeling anything else. It’s the wild card of my collection.

 

12). YouTuber shirt: Reviewbrah (The Report of the Week).

 

 

This shirt is special not only because it’s very comfortable, but also because it’s the only piece of YouTuber merch that I own. Reviewbrah – his channel is The Report of the Week – is one of my favorite YouTubers. He reviews fast food. He wears a suit every day (usually complete with a jacket, and never without a tie). He’s known for his 1930’s-era radio personality and his dry sense of humor. Perhaps the greatest thing about Reviewbrah is that none of what you see is a persona! What you see on his channel is what you’d see in his real life, and I love knowing that a human like him is out there in the world. Reviewbrah always opens his review videos with “Hello, everyone. This is Running on Empty, fooooood review!” I can’t describe him other than that. You have to experience him for yourselves. Here’s the video that made him famous for the iconic Reviewbrah line “My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined”:

 

 

 

13). Sports shirt: Sumo.

 

 

Of my three Sumo tees, this one’s my favorite. Ozeki is Sumo’s second-to-highest rank, and it’s the rank of my favorite wrestler, Tochinoshin.

 

14). Band shirt: Tears For Fears.

 

 

I wasn’t much into pop in the 80’s, but I did have a few favorite mainstream pop bands: Tears For Fears, Depeche Mode, and INXS. Tears For Fears was my favorite. I bought this shirt when I finally got to see them in concert in the mid-2000’s. Not only did I get to see them perform, but I somehow also ended up sitting on Roland Orzabal’s lap at one point before the show. I DIED. That would be a story for another post. Roland is the one pictured on the left, by the way.

 

15). Logo shirt: Vans.

 

 

I love Vans, and I love this shirt. I love it so much that I have a back-up in case anything happens to it, though it’s a classic and a Vans mainstay. I do love a huge t-shirt with the neckline cut out.

That completes the list! I hope you enjoyed. You probably learned some things about me that you didn’t know, which I think was the point of the request.

Happy Friday Eve, friends!

 

 

I took a selfie late this morning thinking of you who request them. Then I considered what I could write to go with the pic, if anything specific. (Otherwise, I had several unrelated post ideas in mind.) Moving in and out of sites throughout the afternoon, I landed on a video recommended for me on YouTube… and I laughed. I watched the video and laughed even more. The video goes perfectly with my selfie!

YouTube recommended that I watch “10 Things Elegant Ladies NEVER Wear!”

 

 

Haha! Thank you, YouTube, but I’m beyond help.

Things I wear that will preclude my ownership of an Elegant Lady card:

• Gym clothes outside of the gym.
• T-shirts.
• Ripped jeans.
• “90’s fashion.”
• Cartoon or animal prints. (Not even a feminine haute couture frock with a butterfly embellishment is suitable for “high society.”)
• Wrinkled/creased clothing.
• Bags with wear and tear. (That Chanel bag with the hint of a scuff underneath? Trash.)

Those are seven of the ten rules that I violate. The three NO-NO’S that do not apply to me: crop tops, bandage dresses, and jean shorts.

From what I can gather, the person presenting this video has the best intentions: she wants to help you land on the arm of a billionaire. (What the discriminating billionaire may do on the side, however, probably wears every single item on the NO-NO list.) Her whole deal seems to be about affluent lifestyles and admission to the ranks of high society, billionaire husband included.

To each their own, I say. If Elegant Lady attire is you, then rock it! No judgement here. I just thought it was hilarious that “10 Things Elegant Ladies NEVER Wear!” popped up on my “recommended” list as I was thinking of what subject could apply to my selfie.

And of course I’m signing off with this helpful video. From Sumo to Elegant Lady, I’ve got your viewing needs covered this week! My work here is done.

 

 

Happy Friday Eve!

 

 

I went to Body Pump on Saturday, and I went again yesterday, and the wound on the back of my ankle hasn’t bled again, so I seem to be back for real this time. I have to call that door accident “the dumbest thing to ever keep me out of the gym.” I outdumbed myself with that one. I mean, I can’t say that I ran into a door. I have to say that a door ran into me, and that I provoked it.

I’m going one increment lighter on the back track on account of the quick little “jump” you do to get under the bar for clean and press/power presses. I’m still not doing lunges, because when I tried them on Saturday, I could feel the pulling on the scab. Other than that, everything’s the same in Pump.

As for cardio? Not yet. It’s too early to wear shoes other than high-tops at the gym. (I actually prefer to lift weights in my high-tops because I like the flat soles, so that’s nothing new.)

Speaking of coming back from recovery, September’s Grand Sumo Tournament is less than three weeks away, and Tochinoshin (my favorite Sumo wrestler) has this one opportunity to regain the Ozeki rank he lost to injury in July. He’ll need eight wins to get that rank back this time. He needed ten wins to regain it in May! He got his rank back in May, and he can do it again in September. The thing about Sumo at this level is that you can lose your rank because of injury. Sumo is the only combat sport I can think of that has this feature, which makes for an even more dangerous life for the wrestlers. They already have a shorter life expectancy due to the obesity they need to maintain in this violent sport. What we risk in the name of passion and drive, right?

For anyone interested, here’s a short video showcasing Tochinoshin’s ten wins in May:

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j864UUj6ZGk

 

Also speaking of Sumo, we’re looking forward to watching it at 2020’s Summer Olympic Games in Japan! Sumo will be included in the program for the first time, and it’ll be great to see it performed on the largest stage (pun not intended) for the world to appreciate.

 

 

I was thinking of doing a gym updates post, but then I came across a video featuring three gym horror stories – creepy horror, not bad-experience horror – and, well, you know me. Gym? Horror? Hello?

Mr. Nightmare is a YouTube channel on which (allegedly) true stories are told, videos that are basically podcasts with visuals. Ranging from mildly disturbing to downright spooky, all of these stories are disquieting in the sense that the events really happened (let’s trust in this) and that they do happen, or at least can happen.

The channel covers a broad range of situations and scenarios. I would say just stay home and lock up, but as we know from Mr. Nightmare’s “home invasion” and “home alone” videos, we wouldn’t be safe at home, either. Plus, we’d starve, because we couldn’t order food for delivery. Who wants their food with a side of terror?

I scanned through the channel’s video titles and deduced that if you don’t want creepy-ass shit to happen to you, here’s how to avoid it:

• Don’t get a roommate.
• Don’t stay home alone.
• Don’t order food for delivery from Postmates, DoorDash, or any food delivery service.
• Don’t order pizza delivery.
• Don’t be a pizza delivery driver, or any kind of food delivery driver.
• Don’t hitchhike.
• Don’t go to house parties, birthday parties, block parties, or pool parties.
• Don’t celebrate Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, or the Fourth of July.
• Don’t house-sit, dog-sit, or baby-sit.
• Don’t have neighbors.
• Don’t have or go to sleepovers.
• Don’t date anyone online, enter chat rooms, check your email, or have anything to do with any social media platform.
• Don’t enter basements, playgrounds, attics, crawlspaces, movie theaters, or schools.
• Don’t look in the trash.
• Don’t play hide-and-seek.
• Don’t ride the subway.
• Don’t drive on the highway at night.
• Don’t go hunting, fishing, hiking, or camping.
• Don’t go to the mall.
• Don’t go on spring break.
• Don’t take vacations, field trips, or any kind of trips.
• Don’t get caught in thunderstorms, snowstorms, fire drills, or blackouts.
• Don’t go into the sea.
• Don’t play Pokémon Go, and don’t play with Ouija boards.
• Don’t take an Uber.
• Don’t have an automotive breakdown.
• Don’t go into the swimming pool.
• Don’t enter the Deep Web.
• Don’t watch found footage.
• Don’t lose your phone or your laptop.
• Don’t work the night-shift.
• Don’t go to haunted houses.
• Don’t run into spiders or clowns.
• Don’t go to Walmart.
• Don’t go to the airport.
• Don’t be a trucker.
• Don’t go to the beach.
• Don’t go into the forest.
• Don’t enter abandoned buildings.
• Don’t play sports.
• Don’t join the police force or the boy scouts.
• Don’t buy anything through Craigslist.
• DON’T GO TO THE GYM LATE AT NIGHT, AND DON’T WORK IN ONE LATE AT NIGHT, EITHER.

I watched the aforementioned “3 Disturbing True Horror Gym Stories” video yesterday:

 

 

Mr. Nightmare is a binge threat for horror fans, especially. The videos are short. Since they’re like podcast episodes, I like to listen to them while I’m doing mundane tasks around the house… I’ve listened to scary-story podcasts, and Mr. Nightmare’s YouTube channel is better, in my opinion!

Craigslist appears on the channel numerous times – I counted five Craigslist videos, each containing several stories – which brings to mind the lady who dropped by to purchase something (my microwave, if you must know). I think it was last week that I told you how I almost forgot to change out of my Halloween Michael Myers t-shirt before she arrived.

That post prompted a request for a Halloween shirt selfie, and it so happens that I took one the other day! I’d just come in from some wild monsoon winds, so my hair was appropriately insane. I tried to get my expression to look like Michael Myers’. I think I got the mouth part right. Also, can we admire how the knife hilt leads up into my coiling hearts tattoo?

 

 

 

The end, my friends. Please to check out Mr. Nightmare on YouTube. You will learn SO much.

 

 

Horror 1: We watched Train to Busan (original title Busanhaeng) on Netflix on Saturday night. Of all the zombie movies I’ve seen, Train to Busan is the only one that actually made me nervous about leaving the house. I was impressed. Zombies are not my favorite horror sub-genre, but Train to Busan is easily one of the best films I’ve seen this year, out of any genre.

Horror 2: Our internet’s been inconsistently slow and prone to disconnecting, as it is every year in August/September. We have a theory that this is due to university students flooding our section of Tempe by the hundreds, if not thousands, stressing our area bandwidth as they settle in for the new academic year. Things always go back to normal around mid-September. It’s not a big deal.

Horror 3: I returned to Body Pump on Saturday and carefully favored my left leg, doing easy squats, passing on lunges, and trying to avoid going up on my toes (difficult to avoid while doing high pulls and clean and presses)… but I still managed to make the wound on my ankle bleed again after it hadn’t bled for days. I learned. I’m staying out of the gym for another week. The dumbbells have migrated back into the house for a home upper-body workout. I’ll head back to Body Pump this Saturday!

Horror 4: I didn’t think I’d be seeing anyone yesterday when I plucked my Halloween horror movie t-shirt out of the closet, but then I got the idea to post an item on Craigslist. Within hours of bowing to this whim, I had a buyer who said she was coming over right away! I headed back to my closet to change.

It occurred to me that she might not appreciate meeting a seller who opens the door wearing a black t-shirt with a shadowy, masked face floating above two pale knives fading ominously into the dark. I quickly changed into my happy brick-red and yellow Lion King shirt with young Simba and his meerkat and warthog friends traipsing above the carefree “Hakuna Matata” line. I figured the buyer would be more comfortable entering the home of a person wearing a sunny Disney animal shirt than a black horror movie t-shirt with murderous Michael Myers in his white mask with his big pointy knives. Am I considerate or what? Come into my lair and buy my stuff. Nah.

Here, I’ve got a pic of Yours Truly in said Lion King shirt. This is from a few weeks ago. I wasn’t going to post it here (it’s on instagram), but while 1). we’re on the subject, 2). I have standing requests for selfies, and 3). I don’t have another pic for this post…

 

 

Incidentally, Halloween (1978) is my all-time favorite horror movie. I love that t-shirt!

 

 

Welcome to this unexpected follow-up to my last post.

I thought I had everything under control after I slammed the steel door on the back of my ankle. It took an hour, but I got the bleeding to stop, right? Only after my late-night shower did I realize that the situation was not under control, and it was beyond my management capabilities. I noticed more blood seeping through the jumbo band-aids (I’d stuck a second one over the first).

Of course it was past 11pm! Isn’t it always when you finally decide to go to the E.R.?

At the E.R., the doctor looked at my ankle and said that I needed stitches, but it was too late; the risk of infection was too high. I should’ve gone in for treatment within six hours of the accident. “I’ve been here all day,” he remarked lightly. He was kind.

He leaned forward in his chair as he pensively studied the wound, elbows resting on his knees, hands folded together, chin propped on his knuckles. Then he shook his head and said, “All I can do at this point is try to close it with steri-strips.”

Callaghan, who was sitting on a stool behind the doctor, later told me that the wound was gaping open and jagged around the edges. I’d had no idea. I’d thought I was dealing with a clean cut. The diagnosis on my paperwork says LACERATION, OLD – NOT SUTURED. It then explains that the wound is deep and required stitches, but “in your case, too much time has passed before coming for treatment. That is why your wound was not sutured.”

Can you hang your head in shame and roll your eyes at yourself at the same time? Yes. Yes, you can.

The doctor cleaned out the wound and applied the steri-strips (sticker sutures) to hold the separated tissue together. I felt pressure and pulling, but still no pain. It turned out that my nerves were damaged, so they couldn’t send pain signals to my brain.

This brings me to today’s important Public Service Announcement: if you’re bleeding persistently from an open wound, go to the E.R. right away, even if you’re not feeling pain.

I had it the wrong way around. I didn’t think it was that serious because I felt no pain. It didn’t help that I couldn’t really see the back of my ankle when my foot was up in the basin, but that’s neither here nor there. There was bleeding… it wasn’t stopping… I should have gone in for treatment, period. Instead, I flew into problem-solving mode and focused on resolving the issue myself. I only partially blame the Army for this.

A nurse wrapped the wound with an Ace bandage, and I went home with a set of crutches.

 

 

Funny thing, Callaghan didn’t even know about the accident until he read my blog post that night! He found out when you guys did. I forgot to tell him about it when he got home from work.

We were told that it could take up to four weeks for the wound to heal completely, but I can get back to weight-lifting after one week of inactivity. It’ll be at least two weeks before I can do cardio again. The wound will fill in from the bottom and the sides, and it’ll scar, to which I say whatever. It could’ve easily been worse. It was my Achilles tendon’s lucky day!

Anyway, guys, if this happens to you, don’t do what I did. If it takes an hour to stop the bleeding, something is wrong. If it’s still bleeding after even 20 minutes, something is wrong! You’ll need professional treatment, and you should go get it within six hours. I waited more than 12 hours, putting myself at higher risk for infection. My scar will be deeper, and my healing time will be longer.

Also, while I’m at it, do remember to update your tetanus shots every five years. That was one thing that concerned the doctor that I actually got right.

[/PSA]

p.s. I found out how to remove ads from my blog! You’re welcome!

 

We all do dumb things now and again. Sometimes, our idiocy costs us time. Here’s a scenario: you pull a steel door shut behind you too quickly, as in, it slams shut before your foot leaves the threshold, so the sharp edge of the steel bar at the bottom slices the back of your ankle. You think Achilles tendon close call because you know it’s only a superficial cut, but damn.

It doesn’t hurt, but you hurry to the bathroom because you don’t want blood to get on the floor. In the bathroom, you swing your foot up into the basin and wish you were more flexible. The soap dispenser is empty, but luckily, the big refill bottle is in the cabinet below. You keep your foot under the stream of water in the basin while using what little flexibility you have to reach under and around your leg to get to the soap in the cabinet.

Bloody water splashes in the basin as you keep your ankle under the open tap while smashing the world record in fastest soap dispenser re-filling.

After washing the cut with the anti-bacterial soap, you open the medicine cabinet and snatch your hand away from the hydrogen peroxide the moment you reach for it. You’ve remembered an article you read about someone who was murdered by flesh-eating bacteria. In the comments, a guy wrote that you should NEVER use peroxide on an open wound. Hydrogen peroxide “cuts the oxygen supply and the bacteria goes ballistic into your flesh.” You trust that this is sound advice because the guy survived flesh-eating bacteria, himself, and that was the take-away.

Your cut is about an inch long and deep enough to keep bleeding. Gauze would be helpful. There isn’t any. But there are jumbo band-aids and neosporin. It happens that there’s a roll of paper towels at hand, too. You turn off the water and hold a paper towel compress to the cut. Turns out that it’s awkward holding firm, direct pressure on the back of an ankle, because the back of an ankle is basically skin stretched over a taut rope. There’s no real estate to speak of back there. Plus, it’s round.

You lower yourself to the floor without touching down with that foot (pistol squat bonus!) and open a vanity drawer so you can prop up your foot to elevate the cut above your heart, still holding the paper towel compress on the cut. (V-crunch hold bonus!) When you get up, you quickly unwrap a jumbo band-aid, squeeze neosporin onto it, and slap it over the cut, securing it as tightly as possible. But it keeps bleeding. You can see it seeping under the band-aid. More elevation, you think, but get comfortable this time!

You pistol-squat back down to the ground and crab-walk across the hall into your office with your foot in the air (single leg hip bridge + crab walk bonus!), reach up to grab your phone from the corner of your desk, and lie back on the floor with your foot on the desk chair. You watch the July Grand Sumo Tournament Wrap-Up video (Jason’s All-Sumo channel on YouTube) on your phone and get up when it’s over. The video was 23 minutes long. The bleeding seems to have stopped.

Congratulations! You’ve wasted an hour of the morning on shenanigans set into motion by closing a steel security screen door behind you too hastily… but you were SO excited to retrieve your package from Amazon, and you couldn’t wait to get inside to open it! You really needed that replacement phone case. Now you have it. (Bloody basin, jumbo band-aid bonus!)

 

 

[Post Script to my previous post] I watched a YouTube video of Naomi Campbell getting groceries from Whole Foods, and when she reached into the bulk bins for raisins, cashews, and walnuts, I shouted, “Naomi!! Noooooooo!!!” at the screen. I don’t think her past self heard me. I hope she’s not eating larvae right now. I’ve seen her airplane video, too. She should not be eating from bulk bins.

In today’s news, I just spent the last few hours dealing with wiping my phone, subsequently losing all of my contacts, and trying to recover them by DM-ing people on social media. If you have my number already, please text me so I can get you back onto my Contacts list.

Today, you (selfie-requesters) get a pic of me kicking back in sweats on a couch I’m looking into getting reupholstered, against a wall that’s soon to be painted, under a picture that probably won’t be in that spot the next time you see me here, with shorter hair that isn’t styled the way I would normally wear it, and with no make-up except lipstick.

 

 

Changes around the house are happening aplenty. I hope to have that updated office tour for you next week! I stumbled upon a treasure from the Goodwill, which got me going on a décor theme for this space.

On that note, I hope you’ve all had a good week. Happy Friday Eve!

 

 

I should’ve thrown out the mixed nuts that first time I found peanut skins joined together and dangling from the edge of the mini popcorn cake I was using as a spoon. When I sifted through the contents of the plastic container with another popcorn cake, I pulled up more of the little chains, each one delicate and wispy, as if formed out of spider webs. Some of the chains were comprised of just peanut skins, while others included tiny bits of the nuts. It was a mystery, but I hadn’t gotten sick… so what did I do? I carried on eating the nuts, day after day, choosing to ignore the occasional, invisible strands.

In my defense, I hadn’t seen any spiders in the mix.

The mystery solved itself when I opened the container yesterday and a small white moth fluttered out. I’d been eating moth silk, which means I’d probably eaten through larvae, as the silk would’ve come from a cocoon evacuated by a mature moth. There would be more than one, right? In all likelihood?

The nuts I’d been eating from that batch at Sprouts weren’t vegan. Oh, well. These things happen! I’m not ill, and the moth is alive and well in the house somewhere, so everyone’s fine. Still, I think I’m done eating from bulk bins. Stores can’t know what’s actually in them, I guess is the lesson here. Bulk foods are generally the thriftier way to go, but I’m not going to pay to eat moth larvae!

It was dumb of me to continue eating the strands of peanut skins and crumbs, but at least I can bring you this Public Service Announcement: proceed with caution when opting to purchase food from bulk bins. Where there’s larvae, there could also be something worse!

Time will tell if there are larvae growing in my gut. You know you’ll hear about it if there are.

 

 

You want selfies, I got you. You want food pics, I got you. You want to know where I am and what exactly’s going on, I don’t got you. Not yet, anyway. It’s not a big deal, but I just wasn’t sure whether I was allowed to mention it. It turns out that I can, so next week Tuesday… I got you.

Here’s the rest of this medical travel week, starting with Wednesday (yesterday):

 

 

Thursday (today):

 

 

In case you’re wondering, I had Door Dash bring dinner all week because while I sincerely tried to eat the hospital food, I just couldn’t do it. Moreover, the portions here are small compared to the volume of food I normally eat, so it wouldn’t have been enough even if I did want to eat it. I wasn’t the only one who sought food from other places! No one’s meals went to waste, though. We know we can eat from other peoples’ trays if they go unclaimed. I did forage through my tray every once in a while to see whether there was anything I wanted. One time, I found some broccoli. I scarfed it down inside of two minutes. It wasn’t bad. Broccoli is broccoli.

For lunches, I mostly ate protein bars, trail-mix-type foods, and fresh fruit bought from the canteen. There was the one day that I bought sushi from the canteen. It was surprisingly good! Sushi from a military canteen!

 

 

 

We’re taking this to a new level of silliness today, because there’s not much I can say regarding this medical/research trip. I’ve been taking pics along the way, instead. I’m afraid there’s no attempt at artistry going on here… this is literally a see-what-I’m-seeing sort of display that ended up being mostly food and selfies. You who enjoy the latter are going to love this post! It’s a rare selfie extravaganza. But let’s start in the bathroom at Sky Harbor International Airport and go from there. Haha!

Sunday:

 

 

Monday:

 

 

Tuesday (today):

 

Exciting, right??! [insert laughing/crying emoji here] Thursday’s post will contain more of the same. I plan to make it to the hospital’s little gym tomorrow afternoon, and that’s an environment I should be able to photograph! Pretty much the only pics I can take in the hospital, itself, are in the bathrooms.

 

 

Next week already! Next week is the week I’ll be out of town for five days of medical testing and evaluation. I’ll bring my laptop, so I should still be able to post here on Tuesday and Thursday.

It’s going to be colder where I’m going, so I’ve been thinking about what to bring. I suck when it comes to packing, even if I check the weather forecast up until my departure date. Don’t you hate when you’re at the end of a trip and you’re left with a suitcase full of things that mostly haven’t been worn? I’ll pack clothes for layering. That should work.

I’ll have access to a gym, which means I’ll be packing gym shoes, as well.

Have no doubt that I’m looking forward to putting on those gym shoes during my trip! I’m going to lift weights on my own for the first time since starting Body Pump, so I’ll be able to find out how much weight I can lift when doing regular sets (rather than how much I can lift at a fast pace, as we do in Pump).

June mood: determined.

 

 

It was almost midnight when this pic was taken a few days ago. I was wiped out. ALSO, if my bedroom walls look especially white in this black-and-white pic, that’s because they are! We’ve been painting. Room by room, the brown walls in our house are vanishing. It’s magic.

Summer is afoot; for me, it’ll begin once I get back from my trip. I’m going to dig into my writing. The digging-in will actually begin while I’m gone, as I’m considering my trip to be a sort of writer’s retreat.

Leaving spring behind: look for my “May Favorites” post this Thursday. Until then!

 

 

May is coming to a close, and with it, mental health awareness month. Are we all aware? On my part, I haven’t acknowledged the significance of the month in this space, though many of you have followed this blog because of my mental health posts.

For you who don’t experience clinical depression and can’t begin to understand it, here’s a scenario that might help:

You’re in the locker room at the gym when your ear catches a song on the radio. The song brings a sense of nostalgia so vague, it’s a mere tease. You can’t identify the song. It’s maddening. You listen hard to catch the lyrics, but the T.V. is on, too, and its volume is louder than the radio’s. You struggle to block out the sound of HGTV’s Fixer Upper so you can focus on the song. Shazam isn’t an option because the song is too faint; all the app is going to tell you is that it doesn’t recognize Fixer Upper’s Chip and Joanna Gaines. In a near-panic, you hear the song beginning its end, fading off in a flock of lyrics. You catch one expression – just one – which yields nothing on search engines. After long moments of failed attempts, you toss aside the useless expression. You’ve long since forgotten the song’s melody. Then you can’t even remember what it was about the song. Others try to help, begging you to describe the song so they can tell you what it is.

The song is soon irrelevant, anyway, because all you remember is the experience of wanting to know something and being unable to find the answer. It seems like much ado about nothing, except it isn’t… it isn’t about nothing. It’s about everything.

This is what depression can feel like: a fruitless search for an answer to an unknown question.

In the end, nothing matters. You’re compelled to give up because of this one mysterious, amorphous thing. It all feels meaningless, and the feeling is contagious to everything in your life and in your world. You begin the exhausting fight against the downward pull, which you can’t explain or describe, either. You’re left with the cliché of the abyss.

It’s a relief when a doctor figures out that there’s something awry in your brain. You start taking medication, and it helps. You sit and interact with professional listeners, and that helps, too.

Depression demands answers. It’s also hard for those who don’t experience it… it’s hard to be outside of it looking at someone who’s locked within. Those who chastise the depressed (just snap out of it, etc.) make themselves heard more than those who feel compassionate. The result? Stigma riding on the back of this medical condition.

Unfortunately, stigma speaks louder than compassion. This is why mental health awareness month is important. Compassion needs a louder voice. It needs to be attached to depression and other mental health conditions more firmly than stigma… and awareness can give it a chance.

 

 

I was going to post a fitness update tonight. Instead, I greet you with a weather report. I can’t help it. I sat down at my desk with the warm dusk wind blowing and our patio wind chimes loud in the best of ways, drifting through the open door. I’ll say it again: there’s something truly mystical about this desert, something incalculably powerful. Tonight I’ve been distracted by the wind animating the trees I can see from my office window… our two palo verdes, our date palm’s fronds, the mesquite across the street. I’ve lived in this desert for almost 30 years, and its magic still startles me.

There wasn’t much to report in fitness news, anyhow. Weight-training class (Body Pump): I increased more of my weights today, and that wasn’t even the plan! Kickboxing (Body Combat): it continues to be a different experience at my second gym, mainly due to the A/C and fan. Long over are my days of drowning in a pool of my own sweat as I drive home. Cardio (Step): I haven’t been going. Sunday morning workouts just aren’t fitting into my weekends, and that’s okay. I’ve been doing my 10-minute version of cardio every day here at home, so there’s no cardio deficit in my workout week.

Finding alternate ways to work out usually isn’t a problem. I’m thinking of the time years ago that I went to my then-boxing gym one evening to find it closing early for some reason I can’t remember. I remember what I did instead, though, and I remember it precisely because of the weather that night.

I drove east through a gathering storm so I could make the evening T’ai Chi forms class at the dojo where I occasionally trained. We did the Crane Chi Kung form, which was my favorite of the Chi Kung animal forms. It was a time during which I preferred Crane to the other animal forms, energetically speaking. Crane is powerful, graceful, and deadly. The Crane form’s expansive movements and deep stances felt good.

Wind actually echoed in the darkened sky as the temperature dropped, and hail began to hit as we practiced Crane. In the next hour, there would begin a heavy rain that would fall throughout the night and a few hours into daylight. There would be thunder and lightning.

It was all quite unusual. Later that night, I turned on the television to watch the weather report – this was during a more analog time – to see that it had actually snowed in Phoenix! It was March, and so rare that such a storm would visit Arizona in the spring, or even in the winter. We’re used to sub-tropical monsoon storms in the late summer.

It was March, and the icy edge of that storm sliced through the Valley like the edge of a crane’s wing through water.