I had forgotten what a letdown the days after meeting a huge challenge/goal can be. After all that preparation and anticipation of singing my solo in choir’s concert, I deflated like a balloon a couple days after the party ends. Seeing how busy the calendar was going to get soon (at work, blech), I decided that respite (and reward!) by the sea was required.
It was just long enough.
It’s never long enough.
Welcome to my weekly review of This Is Us. Today: Season 2, Episode 14, Super Bowl Sunday. (The reviews will include spoilers, so don’t read if you haven’t watched and don’t want to know what happens!) My reviews are based on a single viewing. If I were to watch several times, as I can obsess over my favorite shows (I’m looking at you, True Detective, Season 1), I might be even more insightful (or over-Randall-ing it all). But I’d rather write my initial impressions than take time dissecting after many views. So…. Continue reading “This Is Us: Super Bowl Sunday”
It’s Thursday! It’s time to share some doors! After a (not-so-brief) hiatus, I have returned. Autumn began early, in September, and I ventured out with my phone (still need to take the DSLR out). Then summer reared its ugly head again, but I didn’t let that stop me! I have photos to sort and post in the coming weeks. YAY! Today, I’m reopening the doors, so to speak — with one that keeps in the spirit of the me-me-me work I’m doing this Autumn.
Continue reading “Thursday Doors: Reopen”
It’s Monday! I saw a movie! Let’s discuss. Continue reading “Citizen Four, Once More”
Muse is fickle. (Yours, too? How ’bout that!) Sometimes, she visits for long stretches then disappears. When she does, I’m not sure when she’ll return. I know she’ll be back. She always comes back. She just likes to wander, and, like today’s millennials, doesn’t RSVP if invited and sometimes still doesn’t show up if she says she’s going to stop by (p.s. GET OFF MY LAWN!).
Muse’s visits have been consistent lately, but I wasn’t sure how long she’d stay this time ’round. Then she sent a sign during a recent chat about anxiety with the same person who suggested I might be right for roller derby. Continue reading “Confirmed: Mojo’s Return”
I just put pain-relieving cream on my neck and left shoulder area. I’m an athlete, always moving, who took it too far? Oh, no. I hurt myself by holding a book whilst sitting in my car at the park for a while, followed by an hour-long phone call during which I held the phone’s receiver between my right shoulder and ear, instead of my hand, with my head up straight.
I put pain reliever on my body because of a book, a bucket seat, and an old-school landline phone.
At least this injury took some doing. I remember a few years ago when I pulled a leg muscle stretching before getting out of bed, and the time I worked a temp job that didn’t appreciate employees’ need for a chair with arms and an ergonomic mouse set up, causing legitimate back pain from my arm dangling for hours as I clicked.
This latest “injury,” and I’m using that term loosely, is simply caused by the fact that my muscles and body are no longer easy to abuse (not that this qualifies by any stretch of the imagination — which is stretching I wouldn’t do lest I injure my imagination as well). And why can’t I sit in an uncomfortable position holding a book for hours and cradle a phone receiver with my shoulder? Because I’m no longer a youngin’.
*in my whispy old-timer voice* I remember when I could stay up all night, falling asleep during summer breaks at 6 a.m. and waking at noon feeling refreshed. Now, I’m lucky if I stay awake past 11 on Friday night. Back in the day, I could half-hang off the couch, upsidedown, and read for hours. Now, I need my reading glasses, which I often can’t find, and apparently a back pillow and frequent breaks to rest my eyes, my arms, and my neck. And yeah, it wouldn’t have been an issue had I used my newfangled 21st century cell phone (of course, that will give me brain cancer, but at least my neck wouldn’t hurt, eh). But I like my Princess phone and the landline sounds better (still).
Am I truly old? No. But obviously I’m on my way. How old am I? I’m I pull neck muscles holding a book in my car and a phone with my shoulder old. I’m I have to take antacid before eating (and often the morning after eating) Buffalo chicken wings old. And now I’m I complain about my aches and pains old.
I’m too young for my AARP card or to start buying that insurance that only covers funerals. But my body’s making me feel like I’m half-dead sometimes. *sigh*
Speaking of time, what time is it? 3:30? Oh, I have to start getting ready for the early bird special at 4. Ooh! Buffalo wings *pops an antacid*
It’s official. On Thursday, December 8, I finally conceded defeat. After years now of finding and foiling its plot, I am becoming outnumbered and simply can’t go on fighting.
Little white hairs pop out on my hairline. I see some springing to life in my part. And for a long time, I would seek and destroy, plucking them from within their auburn nest. They were short by the time I caught them white-handed. They were (and still are) extremely outnumbered by brown comrades.
But that morning, as I brushed my beyond-the-shoulder length tresses, one popped up on the side, springing to life with a curl all the white hairs apparently long to be. And it was more than half as long as the surrounding brown hairs.
How did you get by me, you little bugger, I thought. I shouldn’t have been surprised, because last year, I bought my first pair of reading glasses at the dollar store (simply because companies are making the text on products and boxes much smaller now, of course). This long white curly hair mocked me, daring me to pluck it.
I thought about it, but then decided to let it be.
Anderson Cooper is older than me and has been white-haired since his 20s, he has said. I accepted, hell, I celebrate the laugh lines around my eyes, which I’ve had for decades. I EARNED those. Well, maybe I earned the white hairs, too, if only by living as long as I have so far on planet Earth.
It’s no biggie anyway, right? I look younger than I am (coworker, bless his heart, guessed 30 and admitted he thought he was guessing too high, and I’m frequently asked what college I go to, still). Plus, the brown hairs still maintain control, for now. Go ahead, white hairs! Come in and curl ’til your heart’s content. I won’t bother you anymore (of course, I can’t see most of you, so that’s a help).
But look out, white eyebrow hair. You stood out like a sore thumb (especially in the magnifying mirrors) so you had no hope of survival. Of course you return incessantly, unlike many a brown hair I plucked by accident (WHY DOES THAT HAPPEN?). I haven’t given up on you… yet. I wonder how long it will be until that one gets a few more friends…
For now, though, white head hairs, be free! I surrender.
A rare moment alone, so I sit in silence, not saying a word. I can do this for hours, perhaps days (have to try that). No music. No TV. Just the sound of the wind outside my window blowing through the trees (whose leaves may never change color since the temps are back in the 80s).
I faithfully read (because they lovingly deliver it to my inbox each morning) Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Day. The other day, a word struck my brain in a weird way. What follows is the conversation I heard in my head.
Continue reading “The way my mind works #1”
Either the counter was moving or something was on it. Upon closer inspection, I discovered a teeny tiny spider crawling along. He ended up walking on my most recent grocery receipt — perhaps an accountant spider? I wanted to throw it away, though, so I picked it up and gently tapped the edge on the counter, hopeful Mr. Spider would simply slide off.
