I've lost my absolute shit this week. Lost it. I don't even have the words. I was only sorta handling it anyway, until I wasn't handling it at all. I don't even know when, personally, it broke for me, but it's so broke.

Fuck everything. Burn it all down. I'm done.

music: Neil Young - "Ohio"

mood: %@$&

On the advice of Patch, I'm posting this here from an email I just wrote. Taken from an article: "57 Things to Do With Friends While Social Distancing Beyond 'Catching Up'" recommended by Lindsay. Sorry if some of you are seeing this twice.

Weekly? Newsletter

Things I read: Just finished Joan Didion's "Year of Magical Thinking". Not an uplifting read, but for me it fit the theme of loss I'm feeling lately. Was really comforting. Looking for recommendations for the next one though. Not just non-fiction, if you had an un-put-downable-read lately, please do share.

Watched: Signed up for the the free trial of CBS All Access and plowed through "Picard" over the weekend and plan to binge "Star Trek: Discovery" next. Big Star Trek nerds in this household. Hugely big. As much as I appreciate the continuation of the ST universe with the reboots, I badly needed me some nostalgic Next Generation feels.

Listened to: Right now I'm just randomly asking Alexa things like "play Pink Floyd". Which, btw, always seems to start with the song "Money". I'd be thrilled if anyone could experiment and get back to me if it's the same first song for you.

Ate: Food is getting very frustrating. I believe we are stuck in a cycle of: curbside pickup from local small businesses, occasional Chick-fil-A (Why is the line there always wrapped around the building twice? I always figured them on the same level as McD's or Wendy's, but those places are right nearby with much shorter lines.), SaladWorks (best Cobb salads), home-cooking (usually too depressed to cook much), sandwiches... and way too many snacks. And BOOZE. Got the Covid-15(lbs) happening over here.

Laughed about: Too many stand-up specials to count. The ones that stick out are Marc Maron: End Times Fun (and also Thinky Pain) on Netflix, Neal Brennan: 3 Mics on Netflix, anything Jim Gaffigan, and I have to say Stephen Colbert and the other late show hosts are doing so much to keep it survivable. :)

Photographed: This bird outside of my kitchen window, just today, that I have yet to identify.

Loved: Hot Breakfast 15 minute coffee breaks, Ted's YouTube videos and Instagram artwork, group Zooms (when I can get to them), other wonderful stuff I'm sure I'm forgetting, my guy, and my adorable cat. And youz guyz. <3

I do my hair toss, check my nails. Baby how you feeling?

XOXO,

Karen

I woke up to catpee in my bathtub today. With the addition of Roger's cats, I'd been lazy about ordering the Feliway. I'm no longer feeling lazy about ordering the Feliway. Funny how that works!

So I looked at Amazon and there seems to be a whole variety of Feliway diffuser oils now. https://www.amazon.com/s?k=feliway+refill I plan to do some research, but if anyone has recommendations (*cough* Lindsay? *cough*) I'd appreciate it! I'm rusty. This former Cat-Foster-Lady-Extraordinaire is having to dust off her old tips and tricks, and some of them are way in the back of the closet* under piles of stuff.

I'm also looking at getting help with housekeeping. Two adults and three cats is showing its effects already. I'd already been losing the ability to keep up with my house when it was me and Alistair, now I can longer deny that it's gotten away from me, and is not coming back. Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes... turn and face the strange.

I'm tired already and it's not even lunchtime.

*My brain. I'm referring to my brain.

music: David Bowie - "Changes"

mood: mood

So this happened. :) (My apologies to those who have seen this on my social media already.)

Excitement today.

The wind blew the door open after Roger left for work this morning. Frost heave pushes the frame out of alignment, and I've had it fixed several times, but really I need a new door. If you don't get it just right on a really cold day, it won't latch. And he usually checks it but he's still new at it. In fact, it still catches me off-guard sometimes. (I've already woken up to snow in my living room. You haven't lived.)

         (Said culprit.)

Well, all three cats were outside when I got up, including his two who've never been outside AND who won't let me near them to pick them up. Thankfully they ran straight back into the house instead of out and away from me.

I still ended up traipsing all over the neighborhood in my pajamas though (no picture provided), shaking a treat bag and carrying a favorite toy, looking for my cat who is too deaf to answer to his own name... only to have him happily greet me at the door when I got back, the little fucker*.

My feet are full of blisters and my nose is running.

*Who I was incredibly happy to see the instant I saw his face.

music: Michael Martin Murphey - "Wildfire"

mood: blustery cold and relieved

There's a quiet gearing up to the holidays. And to paraphrase Anne's post, a ripple in the force with the current political climate.

The weather had a sudden shift like a window slamming shut. I ain't even bov'vered. The bright sunny days stopped having an effect on me last month. It was more of a passive noticing, "I should be making the most of this somehow."

Hmm.

I've finally agreed to myself I need a cleaning lady. I've already begrudgingly let someone else do most of the lawn cutting, but the cleaning has been mine for so long, my source of pride. But I have giant gaps where I just can't anymore. I finally broke down and asked a former cleaning client for her maid's number, only to find out she's booked solid. Aargh!! The good ones usually are.

I detest the idea of having to hunt for and vet someone. So back on the backburner it goes.

I ate too many grape leaves. I'm having an intense grape leaf craving lately. [Cover your ears, boys.] I'm ovulating and I have no idea if that's involved. [Ears uncovered.] Yeah, I know this is written word.

I'm writing this as I lie sideways on the bed in the period of time where I'm supposed to be sleeping but am nowhere near sleepy-ville yet. It's a place I visit a lot, sans all medicines and potions at the moment. Too much was too much for too long. The cat has passed out in a fuzzy black and white impossible-shaped pretzel. Good for him, my little Boo.

In a happy accident, I see all my lady friends this week. I managed to get booked pretty solid and I just noticed it's my Greatest Hits of gal pals. Pretty nice. Tonight was a little too cool for it, but I sat on the deck with my friends Kathi and Lana. Tomorrow is bracelet making and wine (mostly wine) with Natalie and Cassie, and so on and so forth. I don't get this much in a month sometimes. Whee!

I went to the Celtic Fest on Saturday and it was my first time. I don't know how I missed this all these years, but I'm thoroughly hooked. Men in kilts everywhere. Awwwww yeahhhhh. My guy wore one, too, as he is Scottish and his sister finally got him into one. He went formal-style for the parade, with dress shirt and suit jacket, and dayam does that look work for him. Too hot to maintain though, it was a blistering 80-something degrees with him in wool head to toe, so he switched to the lesser known traditional "What's Under The Kilt?" t-shirt. (Answers below).

Sunday was Arts Fest, and coincidentally a collegiate marching band competition across the way at the local high school stadium. That was incredibly awesome to stumble upon. More so even than the Arts Fest (I dare say). Unfortunately the heat was hammering me so hard I couldn't stay long. A little visiting afterwards and then to bed for the usual battle of the blankets, aka the alligator wrestling contest.

(These grape leaves have sticking power. Whew.)

Okay, rolling onto my back again. The cat grumbles every time I move. I feel like I'm married.

Where was I. Oh, would you like to know What Is Under The Kilt? At least according to USA Kilts?

1. Bagpipes
2. The Earth
3. My Celtic Pride
4. The Loch Ness Monster
5. Socks and Boots
6. MacNuggets
7. Freedom!

There you go. Curiosity satisfied? No? I took a peek. I saw #4.

music: America - "Horse With No Name"

mood: tired but not sleepy

It's so hard to live a life through the constant filter of physical pain. It's so hard to explain it as well.

It's not even a bad day today, just having some nostalgic moments on a warm summer evening, and I know there was a time I lived and moved freely and without this thing tugging at me, in my back, my legs, and tonight, my arms and neck and head.

I once sat without any awareness of my body at all. I sat in the air and just *was*. I hear music or remember a moment and it surprises me how far from that I am.

Just putting the thought down on paper, not for any particular reason.

music: The Smashing Pumpkins - "Soma"

mood: nostalgic

I sat and had tea with Roger's mother (and Roger) last night, and it was so reminiscent of sitting at the kitchen table with my grandmother, I felt a little teary inside. There's a bit of an age difference, so I didn't want to offend her by comparing her, my boyfriend's mom, to my grandmother, even though there's about 15 years difference. Past 80, I think it's fair to stop reminding people they're past 80.

Anyway, it was a cool night, and she likes to make tea, and I ended up awake til 5am but damn if it didn't feel so much like coming home after a long time away. I was pleasantly surprised by this. I guess most times we stop by there's a bunch of folks there, or it's mid-day and her shows are on, but yesterday ended up with just the three of us, and we sat at the old worn out kitchen table* that reminds me of mine, inherited from my own grandparents not that long ago, and had tea.

We talked about Leh's, and she showed us old glasses and bits of advertising on swizzle sticks of places around Allentown, PA that are long gone. She can be a funny lighthearted lady. She can tell a good dirty joke. But she can also be stern. Her grown kids don't cross her. She still runs her house with the long arm of a parent with Presence. She nursed her bedridden husband for four long years before he passed. Her boys are Pretty Good People and very devoted, but also kind and helpful to everyone in general.

And she talked about how she cleaned her floors every day, and dusted all her furniture, with six people in the house every day and that lit me up pretty good. It was my first time really finding a connection with her. I helped her clean her vent grates and we talked about how hard it was to see the quality of our cleaning go downhill for health reasons. It's funny because we had gone so Rog could spend time with her, and I ended up kinda getting this huge nostalgia hug, with bonus bonding.

I think the first time I spent any amount of time with her, almost two years ago, I was a little intimidated. Here I was blowing in off the heels of helping her son's best friend through cancer, and who knows what she thought about what had been going on (and we certainly didn't fill her in), but it didn't seem to matter, and there we sat, this time four of us: me, Rog, his sister Linda, and her, and played some Gin Rummy. I was rusty as hell, but I ended up winning the first game and she the second and all in all it was a good few hours of just sitting and talking and laying down cards. I can't sit for long in a chair, and this was before the second back surgery (though it's not any better now), but it was an easy feeling, one I hadn't been aware I'd missed until I was aware, you know?**

Oh, and the house has bits and bobs in every nook. A row of Scottie dog statues next to a ceramic garlic braid, one that's in everyone's house from a trip to Italy years ago, along with the daughter's amazing paintings, and pictures of weddings and growing kids, stuff crammed in everywhere. It's a home that's been the same family home for an entire lifetime, and it's amazing to me. I've been going there for 2 years, and while I knew right away his family was a good kind, I hadn't seen past to the heart of it, and that is that they were the old-fashioned, close, traditional family unit that somehow stayed together to the end.

In my life our childhood home disappeared at 10, and my closest parent (my dad) moved out of the house we maturated in in our 20s. My mom sold her home and moved states away. There's no childhood home for me. And no one took up the mantle. Not for long. We're all scattered. Trying, but spread thin and getting thinner. Still a family, just... different. Not as close. No bits and bobs.

But there they are, doing The Thing. And it's nice.

Sit down. Have some tea.

*Anne Mollo I'm thinking of you. :)

**My writing skills feel so rusty. I'm also feeling Penna Dutch-y as I'm writing, and I know it's from talking with my nextdoor neighbor awhile today.

I just ordered "Lost Connections" by Johann Hari. (Thank you, Leela, for the original referral). I get it Sunday. I'm looking forward to reading it. A real book. In my hands. Just because I miss it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I did a thing on Thursday. I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, bending over to do some work, for about 10 minutes. I was pretty studious and not really paying attention. When I got up I suddenly felt that my legs were pretty solidly asleep. The right one slightly worse. At first I thought it was hilarious, in that way you pop out of bed to discover your foot is asleep and almost fall over. But this didn't dissipate real well, and now more than 24 hours later, it's still tingling away.