Fuuuuuuck. (And the circle is complete)
Sent from The Precious
For anyone who missed the good news through other channels, Skeeter turned up safe when it got dark and cold; he just walked up to me like "can you believe this shit? The weather needs to make up its mind!" I gave him a warm bath and put triple antibiotic ointment on a could of tiny scratches.
I'm currently sitting on the counch with Skeet in my lap earing the rest of the frosting, but no Xanax today, so maybe things are looking up?
Following yesterday's bonfire of the Department of Education and my toaster-oven, I opened a wee, high window and propped it open with a Mason Jar. I also decided to take a mental health day and stay in bed with the cats and/or do some cleaning.
Skeeter is missing.
While I suppose you could take the title as a "on the cake" kind of play on words, having learned yesterday how bitter Xanax is to chew I cracked open a new jar of cream cheese frosting.
THREE posts in one month? I don't even know who I am anymore, y'all.
Wait, yes I do. It's almost everybodygoddamnelse I (we) have to wonder about anymore! All politics, national-, global-, and work- aside? GOOD LORD. Y'ALL. THIS WEEK IN MY LIFE.
It included such highlights as Baby's First Seizure, constant rational AND irrational panic for three days, and such gems as "it's a GOOD thing my dad is dead!" Also now with a bonus series of hate crimes I will not discuss with The Innernet and, as a cherry on top of the shit sundae, "look I know it goes against your beliefs but don't, repeat, DO NOT check any box other than 'white' for four years. Please? You're no longer technically white so you can't register as a Muslim."
Be that as it may, there always (but especially lately) is someone whose life is RIGHT NOW more exquisitely painful than one's own. And therefore I am going on a roadtrip. Before they joined the Stalky Collective someone was once very kind to me when I was at my very lowest. While that person later went down a dark path, at the time they allowed me to spend time in-patient after a minor procedure gone awry without fear for my babies. Wherever her heart went afterward, someone came and lent her mama-heart to my children and home while I could not, and I am going on an adventure to walk my talk for a bit and pay that selfless act forward for a couple of days.
January in the service industry is truly the cruelest month, and right now...I need to run away from my life (with my husband and oldest child's blessing) and be kind.
Join me? In uncertain times our chances to be kind may be limited, I don't know! I RT'd Lindsey Graham, reached out in friendship to a Muslim while another Muslim perpetrated a crime against me personally, and I'm about to go voluntarily try to feed and entertain three children under ten? L...lawyers are saving us all one bite at a time? This may be end times, friends.
How do you want to be remembered?
Sent from The Precious
So hey there, it's my birthday! I'm sick (for the first time in ages, probably as the sole result of all my recent crowing about how long it'd been, either that or a booger-faced baby I recently smooshed) but oh well, today is still a win because 1) I could take time off from work to get better without anyone going without and 2) as of today I have reached the mean survival age of my primary genetic diagnosis. So whatever happens from here at least I haven't made the statistics any grimmer for the next generation! Whoo tits!
I'm considering going to the march in D.C. if I'm totally healthy by then and it seems safe (WTF with dismissing the head of the National Guard troops mid-ceremony, Trump?). I really want to show up and help overshadow the inauguration of our Presidential Usurper, and have a place to crash and a ride-buddy, but we'll see. I was supposed to be in D.C. on 9/11 and ended up staying home with Baby Big Child. Sometimes staying home is the right choice, but if I do go I'll post pictures.
I am SO GLAD I left Eclecstasy when I did! My current employer as a much smaller business doesn't offer benefits to line-level employees until you've been with the company a year, and my anniversary is in May. Holy hell, I could NOT have done four more years of that place, but if I still had insurance through them I'd be afraid to leave...
Scary times, friends. How are all of you doing with all of this? I'm still in the denial phase. Surely Congress, or the U.N., or Justin Trudeau (oh please let it be Justin Trudeau) will pick America back up, clean our skinned knees, fix the chain on our bike and send us back on our way, RIGHT?
Don't answer that until I'm healthy enough to drink again.
Sent from The Precious
Man oh man, steroids are a mixed bag for sure. Last night I almost threw my iPad because I couldn't get Grey's Anatomy to download and Middle Child was pissing me off making a production of sweeping the hallway and singing loud and off key, and Hotter and Big Child were butting heads, and I wanted to eat EVERYTHING but my stomach hurt. Today I'm finally coughing up the chestful of pollen and city exhaust fumes and other nonsense that's been weighing me down and making me sweaty and tearful and short of breath. It's super-gross, and I know you all wanted to know. It's such a relief though, because as I clear it out my lungs are able to work again, and take deep breaths that relieve the awful feeling of air hunger, and it gives me hope that this was just a little hiccup, a thing that happens to people sometimes, and not The Beginning of The End. Because I'm not getting any younger, and had quietly worked myself into quite a funk. It's not lost on me that my next birthday brings me to my primary diagnosis' Median Survival Age. I don't feel anywhere near done (especially now that I can breathe again--I think low spO2, like low blood sugar, makes one overly pessimistic and prone to histrionics), and am trying not to get hung up on the number, because math can kiss my ass in general, and I've always been an outlier, and medical science produces new miracles every day. I think I'm going to try to see it not as living on borrowed time but rather as one more reason to be mindful of every day being a gift.
Which isn't to say I won't cry and drop the f-bomb at work tonight over something stupid like dropping a fork or a coworker being snippy, because Prednisone. But I'll also try to see the humor, and be kind to myself and those around me, because we're all human, and I know nothing of others' battles.