The Dam Road Blinker

I don't understand why everyone says Texas drivers are so bad.

Yes, we occasionally forget to use our blinkers. But not all the time. And not everyone.

Case in point, this morning a cowboy driving his dually, pulling a gooseneck loaded with equipment, actually used his blinker to alert everyone as to his right turn intentions.

And when I say everyone, I mean everyone. Not one single driver, even halfway aware of others on the road, was left out. We were all privy to his thought process.

From the Dam Road all the way to the Loop.

And then he turned the blinker off, and bypassed the turn altogether.

The Pledge

I made a pledge to. myself I would not buy any more rescue plants at HEB-- at least for a while. (A while being tonight.).

I kept my pledge. I did not purchase any more plant rescues

I saw a Pecan tree for $10 for an Arbor Day sale. What self respecting Texas doesn't have pecan tree in their yard?! It was a matter of Texas Pride

Then I saw an American Beauty Berry plant that reminded me of Mama. It was without a price. And it was the only one on the shelf. It went into my buggy. I couldn't chance it going home with someone else

Then I saw a yellow trumpet vine. It was less than $7. I mean...some of my rescues cost more than that! Its new home will either be next to my mailbox or in the bed next to the front patio and garage.

Oh, the one that reminded me of Mama? It rung up at $25. Worth every penny.

I remained true to my pledge not to buy anymore rescues. At least not until I've potted or planted the 30 or so I still need to place in their new homes around my yard. 😉

Happy Day

So, after the disastrous weekend I worked, I was still dead tired this morning. I made it to work. Talked nicely to a bunch of people (I'm not a morning person so coherent is my goal, nice is icing on the cake), and walked all over the hospital. The whole time I was tugging at my top.

It's one of my favorites: a black tank with a semi- sheer poncho so it looks like sleeves to just past my elbows. The tugging and not laying correctly made me sad because it was no longer fitting.

I know I've gained weight, but I didn't think it was that much.

Just before a meeting I went to the potty, and when I looked in the mirror while washing my hands, I bust out in tears... however, they were tears of laughter!

I was wearing my top inside out!

I laughed so hard, I almost had to sit down so I could turn it right side out.

Then, I kept giggling all the way down the back hall to my workspace back on the ward.

The tears were flowing freely by the time I came around to the Nurses Station, and two people asked if I was okay.

By the time , I reached the workspace, I was barely upright and gasping for air. A Veterans Wife even gave me a "citation" for laughter. 🤭 I told her my story, hoping to get her to smile as well--she already was, and laughed with us as I retold the story.

Then she jumped in with one of her own. 😆😆

I just hope I don't start hearing my story being told all over the place...because it turns out she does stand up comedy!

King Cake

King Cakes are a common bakery delight consumed each spring. They are full of tradition--and a single baby or bean inside.

Originally they were used to celebrate the new year.

When eaten January 6th, they may also be part of a celebration commemorating The Epiphany, or Twelfth Night, which celebrates the arrival of the Magi bearing gifts for Jesus.

The King Cake circular ring mimics a crown. And they may be decorated with the Mardi Gras colors of green, gold, and purple (representing faith, power and justice). King Cakes are abundant throughout the Mardi Gras season (Epiphany to Fat Tuesday). The next day is the beginning of Lent, the 40 days prior to Easter, when many begin a fast or give something up as a nod to the 40 days Jesus spent in the desert (preparing)--or some refer to the 40 years of wandering in the desert by the Isrealites (penitence). The 40 days can be a time of spiritual repentance, renewal, and drawing closer to God.

Traditionally the person who finds the baby Jesus in their piece of King Cake is King for the Day--and hosts the celebration, or brings the King Cake next year.

Looks like I'm brining it to 2K next year! 💚💛💜

Auntie Lou Does Not Wear Lame'

The day started off with a bang.

Literally.

One of the cats, who shall remain nameless (no you won't Maverick) knocked a bowl off the cat feeding bar. Before my first alarm went off. 

I never located the safe place I used for the "AuntieLou" eye glass chain.  Luckily, I had a back-up. (I almost always have a Plan B.) 

Made up the three minutes late I left home, due to looking in "just one more safe spot," arriving at a primo parking spot just minutes before my shift started. 

However, before I could descend from the mountain top (aka my ride), I received a phone call from my neighborhood neighbor (she's in the rich newer part. I'm in the cheaper, original part).  

"Did you realize you left your garage door open?"

 "Whaaaat?!  Ummmm.  No." 

So back home I went. It worked out. I was able to pick up the lipstick I forgot to apply. And turn off a few lights I left burning. And ENSURE all my doors (including my garage door) were locked and loaded.

At work it was lots of fun, hard work, and good food today. (The first comment will explain if I can remember how to post a photo.)

Ended the day HAVING to get gas. 

Yes. Like this...

People asked "which Golden Girl" are you? Others thought I was Auntie Audacity, Maxine,  Mama (Mama's Family), and Mrs. Doubtfire.  

For me, the hair reminded me of Fran's Grandma--but she was loud, obnoxious, and wore leopard prints, lots of bling, and Lame'. 

I don't do lame'. 😉

Yes,  I stopped for dinner for me and unleaded for the SUV looking like this.😉🤣😂

The LEOs and My Pseudo Parade

You know how the Thin Blue Line presence is always a tad bit more conspicuous on Holiday weekends? 

Well, I forgot this was such a WE...until I became the unexpected star of my own spontaneous pseudo mini-Mary Lou parade. 

It occurred Sunday, in between rain showers. I had driven over to Buc-ee's to  use a free vacuum code before it expired. Like the other four. I thought they were good for a year like the Buc-ee's Bath (my personal nickname for the car wash).  They are not. The vacuum codes are only good for 30 days. 

I left Buc-ee's vacuums (with a much cleaner and better organized SUV trunk), en route to my second HEB Curbside order of the day, (yes second--somehow, I got sidetracked and failed to order BOTH of the items that prompted my first order). 

Out of the blue, my brain announced the presence of flashing lights and a couple LEOs.  One ahead of me, one behind me.  Hence the pseudo mini parade reference.  

I was gaining far too quickly on the one in the lead position.  Almost as if it was standing still. Lying in wait. 

For me. 

Before my eyes glanced at the odometer, my lead foot quickly jerked away from the accelerator.  As it often does in these cases. It's as if my foot knows--and somehow wants to lessen my speed by attempting its own damage control efforts. Truth be told, if its touch were a tad bit softer to begin with, it wouldn't have to resort to the knee-jerk to keep me outta trouble.  Just saying. 

However, its touch was heavy, and it employed the jerk to help me slide by--under the radar.  Pun intended. 

In  some small Texas towns, meeting a LEO while driving 20-25 miles over the posted speed limit not only results in your hefty "donation" to the local PDs GoFundMe, it also results in a mandatory ticket to the ball, where you have opportunity to speak directly with their King, who is both Judge and jury.  

Ask me how I know. 

Thankfully, I was at least a tad bit shy of the quarter mark, so I'll be missing the ball this time around. 

As for the GoFundMe--the second LEO accelerated, and gained on me...

Then passed me.

By that  time I was almost ten under, (due to a combination of the aforementioned knee-jerk reaction, and the progression from access road to merge lane, and the interstate speed limit increase). 

In my head I made mental notes in case I needed to recall details.  Technically, I was 10 under the interstates speed limit and I was still in the merge lane.  But I was over the access road limit, amid construction barriers--although no workers were in the zone because of the holiday. So the ticket wouldn't be double

The rearview mirror LEO began his merge with the interstate. I added his illegal merge completion (before the broken white line, without signaling a lane change), as I prepared for our upcoming convo. 

He caught up to me, rode along side for a split second, then sailed past me...

As I in turn sailed past the idle, and empty, "slow down" SUV on the shoulder just seconds later. The idle "reminder" SUV was the one with the flashing lights. 

It appears I was never really in jeopardy of being pulled over as the moving SUV bypassed me in his chase for other, more interesting prey. 

After the disbanding of my mini parade, I made it to my second HEB Curbside pick-up of the day unscathed, and most thankfully, un-ticketed.  

I picked up the dog food and bottled water I forgot the first time around, and observed three more LEOs on the brief drive home.  My lead foot, now resting on the floorboard, lifted all three times--even as my brain told it speed control (aka cruise control) was engaged. 

Thank you, but no thank you--no more pseudo parades for this girl. 

Forgotten Focus and Mean Girl Scales

I arrived early for my Infectious Disease appointment. 😲 And the world did not end. 😉

After obtaining my visitor pass at the front door, I trotted over to the Gift Shop for a little Retail Therapy.

In the long hallway I saw a couple of masked ladies walking toward me and I smiled and said,"hello, how are you?" Typical greeting for me. Especially in the hospital setting [doesn't matter that it wasn't "my" (work) hospital].

After they passed one said, "Wait! Didn't you work at the VA?"

"Why yes! Actually, I still do. I'm just on sick leave."

She pulls down her mask, "Me too!" It was the Cashier who always "made" people "smile on Fridays."

I told her,"It's not Friday, but here's a smile AND a hug!" We exchanged prognosis stories (we are both waiting for final recs--her: possibly a 4th surgery; and me: final/FINAL med recs (I seem to be stumping my ID team, and not receiving two full doses of my IVPush med last week due to syringe barrel leakage threw yet ANOTHER kink in the playbook--I think the delivery service tossed them too hard against the concrete--or the syringe manufacturer had a couple faulty syringes). Anyway, hopefully in a couple weeks we will both be back at the VA. 🤷‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️

As I turned the corner to the hallway with the Gift Shop I saw two of my former Residents. 👨🏻‍⚕️👨🏻‍⚕️ I told one of them I saw his name pop up on one of my tests when I was admitted a few weeks back. I love it when I see my favorite Residents in their "Real" jobs years after they've trained at VA. 💜💜

In the Gift Shop I usually find some cute little gift idea. That was not the case today....

I found TWO things for ME!!! Because my friends and family aren't the only ones who have spoiled me during this event 😉

I've tried a couple of these aroma therapy nasal inhalers for calming and sleeping and have liked them. Today I found a "focus"--which I'll have to go back and get because I forgot to pick it up when I saw the one that got me all excited--it was a "Tummy Rescue" (ginger and lemon)! At this point I will try anything that might help. (Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but it does seem to be taking the edge off.)

And THEN I saw a display of all kinds of granny squares! Granny Squares are trending in everything right now and I love them! (I also thought of you Odette Bradshaw-Sheeley. 😉💜 If you jump on it now, you might be able to parlay your new obsession into a lucrative side hustle.) 🧶💜💵💰

When I finally made it to my appointment, I was STILL 20 minutes early (even for check-in). They had a cancellation and took me back right away. And to make the day even better--I think I like ID scales better than my home scales--according to their scale I have lost (and kept off) a couple pounds. ⚖️

My home scales on the other hand should prepare to die--with the two days of incomplete meds last week I felt the best I've felt in weeks--so well in fact I was able to eat regular food--the downside of course was the "refinding" of 6 lost pounds...but the ID scales told a slightly different tale:

Even fully clothed, and wearing my cross-body wallet/iPhone, I'm still down three pounds. 😃👍🏻

Thinking my home scale would confirm this, upon arrival home, I slipped into a nightie and removed everything else (even my earrings and watch--because they weigh so much!), and gingerly stepped upon the hated home scale....

It's a Mean Girl Scale!

It says I'm UP 3 pounds AND my tummy is gurgling gain. (AND it was not lost on me that I forgot the Focus aroma therapy inhaler.)

The home scale really has to die.

TV-Induced Paranoia and Jury Duty Deferral.

I finally reached a real live person in the Jury Services Department at the Bell County Justice Complex. 🙃

Per "Linda" I have received my first deferral (until Oct 06, 2025). Should I require another deferral, I will need an MD note.

I told her I was sad I had to request this deferral--I'm one of "those people" who consider it an honor, privilege, and grave responsibility to serve on Jury Duty.

Have you received your Jury Summons yet?

By my totally unofficial observations it appears they really are ramping up their rolls:

1) Two of our Collage foursome have received a Summons. (50%)

2) my Home Infusion RN today said she received hers (her trainee had not--50-66% dependent upon if your count the trainee or not).

3) another RN in my VA workgroup of 6 received hers--both of us were to report July 28th [that's 1/3 (33%) of our workgroup told to report on the same day].

4) several casual acquaintances have mentioned they also received their summons.

And it's not just here in Texas--HS friends in Florida report they too have received summons.

AND, the former occupant of my current domicile received something from another Texas Courthouse in my mailbox today.

Are the courts anticipating more cases?

Is this an unofficial way to gauge our off-year census?

Or is it something more sinister...

Most likely it's the fact my remote control is MIA and the TV in the bedroom is stuck on my 6 am On/ 2 am Off schedule--and for some reason the True Crime channel is what was playing when I lost the remote...

(Amazon has delivered two universal remotes--neither of which work, even though it's the same replacement I bought the LAST time I was in need. And yes, I've switched batteries, AND purchased new batteries jic the opened package housed old batteries).

I have managed to manually change the channel--to ME TV which shows all the detective, law enforcement, and first responder shows I grew up watching. Not exactly True Crime--more like "Cozy" Crime (e.g. lightweight, no on-scene blood or gore, resolution by the end of the third act)--like a cozy novel for TV.

Deferred Jury Duty is probably a good idea at this time--my head is too much into true crime and conspiracy theories right now. 😉

TV-induced paranoia might be another reason for a Jury Duty deferral. 😂

'Twas the Monday-est Friday on a Wednesday Before a Holiday.

Let me preface this by saying, back in the day when I primarily covered 2K, it was nothing to have all 33 beds full at the beginning of the shift, discharge 9-13 Veterans, and admit another 5-6 that same shift.  "My" Ward hopped. 

Now that we are Provider-based, I have fewer Veterans and they are located all over the hospital. 

This week I have a Provider and a Teaching Team under another Provider.  Between the two provider lists, my case-load was only 24. Very do-able. 

By our 10:30am Inter-Disciplinary Team (IDT) Meeting they had written discharge (DC) orders for 8 of their planned 10 DCs--some of whom were changed from Thursday DCs because Juneteenth is now a Federal Holiday (it used to just be a Texas holiday until a couple years ago).  

So I was cooking' with gas. This Girl was on Fi-yah! 🔥

Literally. 

I'm always hot natured, so during the summer you will almost always catch me in a tank top. At work I just throw a lightweight sweater or kimono over it. 

Every time I came back to the workspace I was stripping off clothes trying to cool off. 🤭

First Seven DCs went off without a hitch. Number 8 had orders but waiting on the Fam to transport him home. Number 9s plan must have changed as there were still no orders when I left. Number 10: I put a hold on--it went from  Long term rehab or placement (the plan since admission), to  maybe short term rehab vs home with home heath (at 11am), to the latest plan:  home with home heath for skilled care (wound care), and non-skilled care (home health aide to assist the very frazzled Wife with providing all his dressing/bathing etc activities of daily living (ADLs); with  a vender set up and delivery hospital bed, and a few other items. 

And if that little surprise was not jolting enough, when I updated the DC Tracker spreadsheets I found a walkie-talkie (#11) they DCd home without telling me. Luckily he had no identified needs when I interviews him. 

And THEN things got kinda weird. 🤪

A staff member dropped by after work...and sang to me. 🎼

A random guy in the elevator did a full court press flirt...I mean overtly flirtatious. 😉

And one of the residents came by to introduce himself--mind you, we teams message and talk on the phone--and when he shook my hand it was a lingering two-handed 🫱🏻🫱🏻🫲🏻handshake--so much longer than the 2-3 seconds ⏱️ I feel is appropriate for the workplace, I was wondering if he was:  

1) instilling honesty and openness; 

2) conveying comfort;

3) attempting a show of power and domination; or

4)heaven forbid....flirting (I'm old enough to be his "GrammaLou").  

What ever his intention was flopped--what it elicited from me was a deep sense of discomfort. LOL.  

Especially when he said, "Call me (first name)"...which is the custom.

To which I said the same thing I've been telling ALL my docs the last 14+ years, "No. I won't be doing that. It's NOT that I'm your hand maiden--because I'm NOT--calling you by your title and last name is my sign of respect for what you have accomplished."  

The docs really don't want me calling them by their first names, as I only do that when I have lost ALL respect for them--or am livid-- and they are my target. Besides, pretty much everyone knows I will never be a handmaiden. I'm too ornery and opinionated. 

So as I reviewed my day in the Buc-ee's parking lot (the SUV needed a Buc-ee Bath), I pondered "what is so different today?"  

We've already had a full moon, and Friday 13th. 

And the past few months all manner of folk have been reaffirming me as having impacted their lives over my almost 28-year VA career.

If I believed--or remembered half the events they have attributed to me, I've been pretty awesome--even to the point of match-making!!! I honestly don't remember some of them. And ones I remember tell me events I don't recall. And I don't think I've EVER been a match maker!!

Anyway, I keep thinking they must know I'm dying or getting a pink slip and are telling me their goodbyes now before it's too late. LOL. 

And then it hit me. The reason for this Monday-est Friday on a Wednesday before a Holiday....

I bought a calming diffuser that's supposedly species-specific. 

Therefore...

I'm a cat.   >^•^< 

🙀

Chat and Me

 My initial foray into ChatGPT has resulted in mixed success. (Please note: I'm attempting to spin it positive.) 

We all know, I'm resistant to technology anyway, so the failure came as no shock to me. But I refuse to say "ITYS." Although I'm really tempted.

In my defense, I did attempt to use ChatGPT. And I've read a couple AI summaries. That, in and of itself, is a HUGE step. 

I can even see some value in AI for summarizing LLMs (Large Language Models) by noting patterns--although this time it failed miserably with nuance.

However, while the place it took me was not expected, the failure did not surprise me. Let's revisit my foray...

Chat: What would you like to know? 

Me: Show me easy fused glass projects. (Show. Not tell me about, or explain.)

Chat: [describes 4 techniques. No photos (which is what I was looking for). I've completed several fairly intricate beginner projects. I understand the basic process so I almost skipped this. However, I skimmed through and found #3 (Sgraffito) to be interesting: by the AI description it sounded like the grade school art project where you paint or magic marker colors on the page, cover your dried page with heavy black crayon, then scrape off line drawings to reveal colorful drawings etched into the black background. I wanted to see an example to make sure that was what chat meant.]

So, when chat asked...

Chat: Do you want to see a demonstration or example? 

Me: Yes, please. (Assuming he knew what he was asking me about.)

Chat: please clarify what you mean. 

Me: Show me examples of Sgraffito. (I wasn't this direct the first time because this is "chat"--when chatting with a real person, IRL, the person would understand I was referring to the last subject discussed--in this case, glass fused Sgraffito. AI did not react like a real person would. In my defense, I at least didn't say "show me #3." Honestly I didn't want to say "sgraffito" because I hoped to avoid trying to spell sgraffito.) 

Chat: A solo trip to Japan...

Me: *exasperated sigh*. That's not what I asked. 

Chat: Please clarify. 

Me: Please show me examples of sgraffito. (I should have specified fused glass sgraffito, but by now I wanted ChatGPT to fail. Just so I could say it failed. 🤭)

Chat: [proceeds to give degrees at which pottery is "baked." LOL. You and I know pottery is "fired." Evidently AI is not as smart are we are. 😉]

Me: No. Show me images of sgraffito (now I'm not about to specify "fused glass sgraffito" because I'm spiteful). 

He showed me pottery examples of sgraffito that honestly looked as if the designs could have simply been painted on the pottery. I was under impressed with his choices.

Conclusion: 

Just like. Yogi Bear is "smarter than the average bear," my fallible human friends and I appear to be much smarter than the average AI, at least on ChapGPT. At least my friends understand, and keep up with, my conversational thinking much better than ChatGPT

And I even showed ChatGPT more mercy than I show most humans--I didn't "squirrel" mid-thought and expect him to keep up. In other words I stayed on track ,

LOL. If I had done that, I might have broken him! 

Hummm. Breaking Chat might not be such a bad idea...

Old Age Confirmation

I think I'm getting "old."

I struggled with going home and facing the music (aka the little candy beggars--er...little darling's), or hiding out at a friends house in the country--at least until it was over. I rationalized I had very little candy to give them. In reality I had plenty. 

I finally decided to go home for Halloween. 

But not before stocking up on candy at Sam’s. The deciding factor was the absence of DDP in my pantry.  And only one flat fizz-less bottle in my fridge. 

I'll only run in, grab a bag of candy and a case of DDP.  Then I'll be on my way, I rationalized.

Like that has ever happened 

True to form I got my two items. And true to form I added a few others. 

Pasta, red sauce and white sauce, bread, grated Parmesan cheese.  Just the essentials. 

Then I thought, "I may as well look at the puzzles and books 'on my way' to the soda corner. What could it hurt?!"

When I made my way to the register I had the meager items I had run in to grab.  Plus the Italian additions. And I found a planner that checked off many of my boxes. (Really, I am a planner snob. They have not made the planner I want. I need to show them how it's done. But this one is doable.) 

And not one. Not two. But THREE books. I usually wait until they hit the dollar rack at HalfPrice Books.  So three--at full Sam's prices--felt like a huge splurge. 

My total was almost what I had in Sam’s Cash. 

I don't believe in coincidence.  It was meant to be. My entire haul was free. All because I decided to get the candy beggers some treats. 

But it gets even better. 

I meet the door checker and she says, "You're good--but hold on a sec--I've got something for you."  

This is new. 

I tried to recall a special event. Nothing comes to mind. She presents me with a huge bouquet of flowers. 

It's not quite my birthday. Not my Sam's anniversary. Not even a special Sam's multiple year. 

It's because they are getting a little wilty and they would rather give them away than trash them. Awwww. I may have to actually buy some flowers next time. Good marketing ploy. 😉

So my picky self found a workable planner, received flowers, and "free" groceries, AND three books. Not bad for a 20 minute shopping spree. 

But the BEST?! 

I got TWO really good boxes for my stuff. 

That's the kicker. The confirmation I'm old. I get excited over a good box. 

Unrealized Sojourn to the Closets

Straight off the bat I can't figure out how to add the meme. So I'll tell you what it says:

"I don't know who needs to hear this, but you still have clothes in the dryer."

That meme, by The Crockpot Ladies, made me snort and spit-take my DDP. It is Soooo me. 

I'm a tad behind...this week (right, it's just this week)😉😉😉...the clothes are in the dryer, on top of the dryer, and beside the foot of the dryer, and the rolling clothes rack is filled with hangables.  

None of the clothes have yet to make the journey to the closets.  

Adding to that clothes-army, a new load is amassing in the washer even as I type this.  

However, the partial filling of the washer is part of The Plan. 

You see, I only "sort" when I wash new reds or jeans the first time. 

Otherwise, everything goes in the washer at the same time, along with man's greatest invention of all time...a color catcher...or two.  

As I remove pjs or nighties in the am--into the washer they are tossed. After I've soiled bathroom or kitchen linen throughout the day, they initially make it to the side of the washer. 

The casual observer, or those with snarky attitudes,  might liken the damp edge-clingers to an acrophobiac--frozen on the ledge, but determinedly on the verge of conquering their fear.   However, the damp linens are actually there for a reason:  The washer lid stays open until the dampness has dried to touch.  Only then  are  they allowed to take the plunge. 

Okay, so what really happens:  When they are dry, I toss 'em in the washer. 😏

Laundry Room Tough Love.   

It's my way to preload the washer, and still be able to thwart the unwanted appearance of mold.

The washer pre-filling continues as I disrobe after running post-work errands. 

I "joke" with friends and tell them, "Every thing  comes off when I hit the laundry room door."  

However, in reality it's not a joke.  It's  true.  

Unexpected visitors will almost always find me in my nightie. I only "dress up"at home (e.g. throw on a caftan, housecoat, or loungewear), when I'm hosting a party.  

The neighbors pretty much expect to see me in my robe if I'm taking the trash to the curb, picking up forgotten mail, or tracking an escaped pup--or two.  

Or a wayward cat. 

The only reason I was in regular clothes the last two dinners I hosted? 

I had to run to the store for a last minute purchase, and guests arrived early--before I finished preparing, and had a chance to change into something more comfortable. 

The early arrivals put me in a foul mood.  

I had the holiday off so I invited my guests earlier than I normally can be home. They know I'm time challenged to begin with, so when they arrived 10 minutes early it threw me into a tizzy. 

I tried to be gracious.  

I reminded myself they were brought up to believe 10 min early is "on time." 

However,  I failed. 

Miserably.

My philosophy is:  Start on time.  End on time.  

And at work:  Only hold meetings when there is a purpose.  

If someone arrives to the appointment, party, or meeting late--it's their loss. Their consequence. 

I accept my consequences when I miss out due to an untimely arrival.  At work it really hurts when I have to use precious annual leave--especially since I already give them so much free time at the end of the day by not claiming overtime, or leave later than I'm supposed to because I continue to work 15-30 minutes into my sick leave--that one really hurts because I am paying (using my sick leave  while continuing to work--but limit setting and self-tough love works and I'm getting better.

Although I've made significant strides, I'm way too distractible and I easily lose track of time. 

Distractibility is the reason (sure it is 😉) this week's laundry hasn't made the trip to the closets. 

Yet. 

That's my story and I'm sticking to it. 

😏

Testing My IT--ness

I'm just testing out the editing. Last time I was here I didn't like it. Seems like it is still the same.  Wait...

I punched a bunch of keys and my auto correct seems to be working again, and the font is one I like.  Maybe I fixed it? 

It would seem my computer skills are sharpening themselves. LOL. 

Because I haven't got a clue how I fixed it. Just like at work today. 

Everyone in my workgroup got booted out of our main program, and I was the first one back in. LOL I said it was because I was insistent (code for impatiently  tapping ALL the keys--not waiting to see what, if anything, was the result), and most importantly, I used the Mommy Voice. LOL. 

IT probably just had a fix rollout that started with me. Because I'm pretty sure anything I did/did not do was ineffective.   

And here on Blogger it's still acting up. Next test will be to see if I can compose elsewhere, and copy/paste it into my Blog. It wasn't allowing it before...

New Set of Friends?

I may  have a new set of friends. 

Don't get me wrong, I love my old friends, and am not in the market for replacing them.   However, remember a few months back I started receiving calls from Lloyd, Gilly, and Randy? 

They were all attempting to confirm plans they were making with Brenda. 

Unbeknownst to Brenda--or them--they were getting my  voicemail. 

They sounded like a really fun group of friends. They liked playing board games, and card games, eatting out, and they were starting to attend a quilting class. 

I liked them. They sounded like good, salt-of-the-earth people. 

I mean, they kept including Brenda/me in all their plans, even though she/I appeared to be pretty much blowing them off. 

They never gave up. They never got bent out of shape. Although the last time Lloyd called, he did sound a wee bit frustrated. 

I felt really bad for Brenda, since she was not receiving, or returning any of their telephone calls. I hoped they weren't expressing frustration with her in person. 

So, when Lloyd sounded frustrated, I finally broke down and let him know they had been leaving messages on my phone. 

I assured him I really enjoyed their calls, and they could call anytime, but they might want to check with Brenda to get her correct telephone number. To ensure they actually reached her. I envisioned the conversation they would have, and Brenda's response. 

Sadly, that was the last I heard from them. 

However, I may have a new set of friends: Alice has started calling Shirley. Or visa-versa. I got the message mixed up. 

It seems the one will be unable to provide the other a ride someplace on Sunday because the driver is going to the Corn Hill then Seton picnics. Two picnics in one afternoon? Sounds like some mighty fine Church vittles might be had. 

I know Seton, but had never heard of Corn Hill. So I Googled it. 

Corn Hill is a small ghost town, in what is now the small town of Jerrell. 

When the train bypassed Corn Hill in 1909, some residents moved to New Corn Hill. Now, the only thing remaining is the cemetary.  The last remainder of Corn Hill (the original) was a hotel. 

But I digress, I did not want Shirley (or Alice) to be stranded come Sunday, or a falling out to occur because of the potential stranding and lack if message response, so I called and left a message. 

Actually, I left two. 

When I called a second time, my message asked if Shirley (or Alice) knew Lloyd, Gilly, Randy or Brenda.  

I'm thinking Shirley (or Alice) sounded like they might have the same background (e.g.  regional accents or speech mannerisms), so they may all be in the same small community. 

Maybe their common Church or Senior Center Directory has a typo in the phone number for Brenda and Shirley (Alice).  

Or maybe Brenda and Shirley (Alice) are related and use the same phone. 

We could all  be friends.  We've already exchanged cell phone numbers.  Sort of. We live fairly close. We speak the same good ole Country Boy/Girl language. We like games, arts and crafts, small town country life. And we like eating out.  

Lloyd, Randy, Gilly, Brenda, Alice, and Shirley could ne my new posse. 

We could have game nights, diner out,  and start our own quilting bee. 

(BTW according to Google, "the word bee was used in colonial America to refer to different types of communal work that benefited neighbors.")

Maybe I can introduce my old friends to the new friends. They are all good folk. 

My Wild Foxy Night Visitor

My after work errands ran long tonight, so I arrived home just before dusk.  This close to summer time, that translates to just after 9pm.

I pulled forward, then began to back into my drive as is my habit.  Trust me, you don't want to see me trying to hurriedly bug out at o'darkthirty in the morning. Especially not when my head is longing to return to visiting my pillow rather than clearly focusing on the rules of the  road.

Out of the corner of my eye I thought I glimpsed the uniquely slinking gait of a fox scurrying across my street. He was coming from the West, heading East. 

Of course I had to investigate.  

I pulled into the neighbors drive.  Yes, I could have walked, but I already had my 10K steps in (10,243 to be exact😏), so I decided to drive all of two houses down. When your mobility issues make you an easy target, you learn quickly to watch out for predators of all shapes and sizes.  That's my rationalization, and I'm sticking to it. 

Besides, the real reason is  my feet and back were aching. 

The fox was long gone--or at least hidden away in a great hidey-hole, so I returned home. Backing into my drive the second time, in the span of about a minute, I realized I was wrong about the fox.  

Because a second young grey fox romped across my street, West to East as well, and headed for the neighboring cemetery. 

I say it was a second fox; however,  there is always the possibility it was the same fox--who was circling around the cul de sac and cemetery fence, as if playing Follow The Leader with itself. But as quickly as it occured, that scenario is highly unlikely. Even though foxs are known to be nimble and quick. So I'm going with second fox. 

I've seen the neighborhood grey fox before. However, it was on the far side of the vacant field between my fenced backyard and a couple Main Street businesses.  I've also spied  an older fox downtown by the fire station and Nolan Creek. Both of the previous fox sightings were in the wee hours. 

I've never seen fox this close to my house--or this early in the night. 

While I feel perfectly safe from a fox family envasion I was glad Moggy met me, as I exited my SUV, without having to be called to go inside the house.

And I was especially  glad that he came to me from a Southern direction. 

Although Moggy is a senior cat (how can the time have flown by so quickly?!), and does not share my mobility issues, I didn't want to test his agility against a wild animal. 

Even a wild animal who appeared to be playfully entertaining himself. 

Wild is wild. 

Repaired Crowns, Parking Lot Prayers, and Wrong Number Llyod

I think my year-long relationship with Lloyd may have come to an abrupt halt today. I'll miss him.  

And Randy. 

And Gilly.  

And Brenda.  

Even though I never met them. 

But before I explain, I'll tell you about today...

I left work early for a dental appointment to replace the temporary crown placed last Wednesday. We had packed way too many fixes in the appointment and my dentist, who is normally very good, could not get my  lower right jaw numb to replace a lost filling. Actually, I think I was numb enough at one point, but the numbness wore off with the feeling of a sheet fluttering down my cheek.  

It was numb. 

The sheet fell. 

And I was no longer numb. 

It was the quickest un-numbing in the history of dentistry. 

So he administered additional anesthetics saying, "This always does the job."

Declarative statements like that are like the line being drawn in the sand. My body was having none of it. My dentist blew air on the tooth that should have been numb,  and I went through the roof. 

We mutually decided the refill could wait until the permanent crown was ready. 

I went home took pain meds and put myself to bed early. 

Thursday evening I was at a friends house and I felt something hard and crunchy in my mouth. I was eatting a noncruchy burger.  I pulled out what looked like half a molar. My tongue explored the inside of my mouth  and it felt like the outer half of one of my upper left molars  had sheared away.  

The following day, Goof Friday, I called my dentist. Fridays are normal half-days for their office, so I knew there was a  strong possibility they would be closed. In my answering machine message I said, "I'm not in pain, and it's not an emergency; however, I want to head anything off at the pass since we are going into essentially a holiday weekend." 

Sure enough, the Dentist also determined it was not an emergency and  we decided they would schedule me Monday when they returned to the office.

In the meantime, Saturday, while eatting a grilled cheese sandwhich, I felt another hard substance in my mouth. I spit out the second half of my tooth. My tongue explored some more and I realized it was just the temporary crown that broke in two--not one of my actual teeth. That both relieved me, and explained why I wasn't in more pain. Actually, the sharp cuts on my tongue were the only"pain."

Fast forward to this fine Monday afternoon. After being refitted for the second temporary crown,   I went to Sam's for DDPs and snacks. While loading my SUV a total stranger approached and asked, "Do you know me?" 

I said, "No. But you look a little familiar."  So he told me where we may have met. It was plausible. Then he introduced himself, and I knew we had never met. I would have remembered his name. 

Then, he asked me to pray for him. I readily agreed and he told me his specific request. So there in the Sam's parking lot, we held hands and I prayed for him. 

Fast forward to the present. As I checked my messages I saw my second call today from Wrong Number Lloyd. I smile fondly even as I type that. You see, I became aware of Lloyd through a wrong number about a year ago. I've looked forward to his calls ever since. 

He originally called to see if Brenda was going to play cards that evening. 

Then he called Randy to see if he had heard about Brenda's plans. 

Every few days he called about a quilting class. Or cards. Or dancing. Or dinner.  

I was living vicariously through Lloyd, Randy, and Brenda. Then today, Gilly called about cards, (after Lloyd called about a quilting class). Always from Lloyd's phone.  

As I was updating my notes in  Lloyd's contact information, Lloyd called again. I felt bad, and by this point I was pretty confident he was not a scammer. 

So I answered.

And the conversation went like this:

Me: "Hello."

Lloyd: "Hey girl."

Me: "I'm not who you think I am."

Lloyd: "You're not Brenda?"

Me: "No. I felt bad in case Brenda is getting into trouble for never calling you and Gilly back, but please don't be mad at her. In her defense, she hasn't  been getting your messages."

Lloyd: "She has said that a time or two." 

Me: "She's telling the truth. I think you Lloyd, Randy, and Gilly, and Brenda too, are all my kind of people--you like to do a lot of the same things I like, and you sound like a lot of fun...but I'm not Brenda. I've been receiving her messages for some time now."

Llyod: "I'm so sorry. I've been calling a number on my phone." 

Me: "Yes. Mine.  Not Brenda's--but don't feel bad, Randy and Gilly have called me too. From your phone." 

We laughed. Said our goodbyes. And hung up. 

I'm kind of sad. I hope Lloyd, Gilly, Randy, and  Brenda call from time to time to update me on the newest class they are taking.  

And the winner of the card games. 

I'm secretly pulling for Brenda. ♠️♥️♦️♣️😉

It's a Thing?!

Who knew eating while exercising was a legit way to get your steps in?  

I thought the bad of the one would cancel out the good of the other. In fact, I wouldn't have believed you if you had told me it was legit. 

At least not until I saw it with my own two eyes.

Two turns from a state highway I spied them: two  middle-aged women decked out in workout clothes--not just athleisure wear--they were not just out for an afternoon stroll in the 'hood.  They turned off the state highway into the neighborhood.  They wore full-blown, "we're serious about our health," head to foot , honest-to-goodness, gym-worthy,  workout gear. 

They both carried food.  Or at least food containers.  I'm pretty sure the food inside the containers was not rabbit food. Or food they were taking to a shut-in, or under-the-weather neighbor.  For those kinds of food deliveries you wear your Sunday Best. But not your Funeral Black--that is saved for formal funeral occassions, such as Church held viewings and actual funeral services. 

One woman carried an unidentifiable box. I'm not sure why my mind went immediately to brownies, but it did. Maybe it was the loving and overprotective basket she made out of her arms. Or maybe she watched football and knew to protect her precious cargo, lest it be stripped from her arms and stolen.  

The other woman munched  as she walked and talked.  I don't know for a fact what she was eating, but her hand was inside a rumpled family sized bag of chips.  The chips were the brand "so good you can't eat just one," according to their ad man. I personally prefer thicker cut chips with ridges myself, but when that "can't eat just one" ad came out during my childhood, it was the only brand I recall ever eating. And they were right, I couldn't eat just one. But unlike this woman, I hid my weakness inside, rather than parading it around the neighborhood. 

Okay, maybe I shouldn't be so judgy. It could be her decoy bag, her 30-mile reward bag, or her recycle bag holding her cut veggies--I use empty food containers for snacks, leftovers, and work lunches all the time. 

Just because you see me eating from a tub marked Bluebell, doesn't mean I'm actually eating the best icecream ever made.  

Not while I'm walking around the neighborhood anyway. 

However, I'll make the sacrifice...I'll give munching as I walk a try--if only to test the theory that it will increase my step count.

All to further The Science.  😉

It's All About The Birthdays

This post is a repeat and slightly expanded version of a FB post I just wrote. When I got to the third phone call, I giggled and said to no one in particular, "It's all about the Birthdays." Then I giggled because the Three members of Lou'sZoo  heard me talking aloud and were scrambling to take up their Word Capturing Kissy Positions (TheGirls on either side of me, and ThatCat on my lap--tap-tappin' my forearm. His claws were unsheathed--remindung me once again we ALL need a spa day--Moggy missed his on his Gotcha day last month, and KatE shared my Birthday next week--and Kinzie is getting sharp as well. So we ALL need a trim.

Anyway, here's the FB post:

It's All About the Birthdays

I finally got around to checking my phone messages. Today I only missed three. 

First William Winterfeld called (actually his wife) to say I'm missed. We also exchanged Birthday wishes (hers was last month, mine is this month). She didn't mention the text saying I might be seeing her in a week or so....it may be a surprise.  😉

Second, was the frantic call from my Sister. She lives rurally and has really sucky reception. One minute the sweet spot is on her front steps (but only when its raining 😂), and the next we are cut off abruptly and the sweet spot has moved to the field, or middle of the road, or some other as of yet unfound undesirable hot spot. 😉 

Anyway, she called when she didn't understand one of my texts, because of her wonky phone service. Almost as soon as we got that cleared up, her wonky phone dropped the call again. She finally was able to reach me by phone so she could at least hear me laughing and not being upset--unfortunately that calm understanding came after another misunderstanding, and she really became worried. 

Everything is finally ironed out, we are on the same wave link, and she found a sweet spot that allowed us to finish our call on OUR terms, not her phone service provider terms. 😉

When she confessed she had a hard time remembering which day was my birthday, I told her Daddy's secret: mine is 2x hers, and hers is half of mine.  

Side note:  Daddy left the US Navy as soon as he could because they had him working numbers in dry dock. Later he joined the US Air Force, was moved everyv2 years--but rather than "seeing the world"  he saw the panhandlers of Texas and Florida, Texas and Florida, Texas and Florida (yo-yo style). He reuped so many times he finally passed the 20 year mark. And he worked in Finance (working with the dreaded numbers again.) As much as he hated numbers, they ended up  ruling his work-life, and making interesting observations about everything else as well. 

Back to the Birthdays:

Once we lept over the "math" hurdle and she understood Daddy's Birthday trick, we had a pleasant conversation. 

Finally. I received a call from a sweet lady thinking she was leaving a Birthday wish for Shirley. 

Shirley is actually very popular,  and obviously has misremembered her phone number, because last week I was privy to the invite she received to a 52 game by an unnamed  gentleman. 😉😍

Perhaps he and Shirley were able to meet after all. Maybe they are out dining and dancing tonight as the unnamed woman suggested. I hope so. 😍

And Happy Birthday from the sentimental me to Shirley! 🎂🎈🎁

Of course, the cynical me wonders if Shirley, her friend, and the unnamed man are elders reliving their Youth by playing phone pranks on random folks (me!).  

While the game-playing competitive side of me is wondering if they need a 4th for 42. 😉

Okay, so maybe it's not "all" about the Birthdays--because the games are important too!

ML

Second Long Sleep and New Age Math

I really don't like Spring Forward.  I'm more of a mourning riser than a morning riser. But give me Fall Back. Every. Time. 

In fact, I propose we only do Fall Back. Both Time Change week ends each year. 

We could call the spring-time fall back ReFall Back. Or Fall Back II. Or the Fall Back ReDo.

Or we could take a chapter from the Hobbits and call it a Second Fall Back. Or the Second Long Sleep.  

It doesn't matter.  Whatever we call it I will be compliant and quite cozy in my extra hour. 

And younger. 

Think about it--we gain two extra hours each year, so at the end of a 12 year cycle we actuall have gained a full day that we have to do something with--so I propose we subtract that day from our age. 

I'm calling it my New Age Math. 

A Spicy Dream

I arrive at the remote home of my former Lularoe dealer, Emily.   I say former because she no longer deals that particular crack. Her current side hustle is beauty products. 

I remain a little fuzzy. Do I actually have an appointment? Or, am I dropping in unannounced? Kind of a "Hey Girl, I was 'in the neighborhood' and thought I'd drop in," type visit. 

Walking from the circular drive to the front porch I am acutely aware of two things:

First,  her car, a 1970s AMC Gremlin in need of a paint job--and perhaps an AC repair since her windows are cranked all the way down--is parked away from her side-facing garage, at the far end of her long driveway (I have time to ponder the Gremlin because the Texas heat has zapped my energy, and my progress on the shorter walkway feels longer than her driveway).  I've watched enough of her on-the-go make-up tutorials from the interior of her ride to make me think it's an SUV or even a minivan.  Both are a far cry from a 50 year old Gremlin. 

Second, as I arrive at her front porch, an overwhelming desire to disrobe overcomes me. I tug irrationally at the v-neck collar of my t-shirt. Irrationally, because it's a pretty deep v-neck yet it feels like it's constricting my neck, and because I realize I have done it again--I have dressed myself backwards--well, at least it's only my top.  This time. 

Before I can tug the top around, the front door opens wide to reveal Emily's husband, as portayed by my Tree Guy, Mike. He is clad in dripping wet painters pants, and is wielding a pipe wrench.

Upon seeing me he gruffly says, "Party's in the den," and rushes off to his plumbing crisis. 

Party? So I guess that mystery is solved.  I don't have an appointment.  

And not only have I arrived uninvited, I'm crashing a party. Again. 

Only the constricting neckline keeps me from bolting as I tell myself, I'll just say, "hey," excuse myself to the bathroom to deal with the top, then leave. 

Entering the den I spy one of my former Social Workers. Former, because as of today she has a new job. I'm proud and happy for her, but sad for those of us left behind.

Amber is sitting on the couch surrounded by her three offspring.   I realize the Gremlin must be hers--even though I'm pretty sure she also drives an SUV--this is Texas after all--where SUVs and Pick-up Trucks are king of the road. 

Amber looks up from the book she's reading and motions toward the table, where Emily is likewise reading, while also surrounded by her own threesome of kidlets. 

All six of the minor characters in both camps are reading varrious printed books, magazines, and eReaders. My word-loving heart swells with pride and happiness. 

Since this appears to be a Wild Reading Party, I feel less bad about crashing. 

After we exchange pleasantries, I ask if I might use her bathroom.  She readily agrees and waves me in the general vacinity of the garage side of her home.

The first bathroom I encounter is ankle-deep in water. The sound of a cascading waterfall is deafening and I continue my search for a quieter, and drier, bathroom.  And being highly suggestable, I am now close to needing a bathroom that is fully functional.  

The next room is huge--almost the size of her garage. It is the most luxurious sauna I've ever seen. Very nice upgrade. She always says her side hustles pay for a lot of "extras " for the Family. I just never realized how lucrative they are.  However, as beautiful as the sauna is, there's nary a bathroom in sight. Although I consider twisting my top around on the spot, the humidity dampens my enthusiasm. Sadly, I leave to continue my potty quest. 

The third, and final door I open is indeed another bathroom--and it appears to be fully functioning--with the fluffiest towels imaginable hanging on the towel racks.  They beckon to me, and I can not resist.  As I blot away my sauna glow the towel actually tickles my skin.  I giggled. 

Of course, the tinkling of my laughter is what awakened me--that and the purposeful feather-light tickle of my cats tail skimming ever-so-lightly across my chin. 

Best. Alarm. Ever. 

Waking up I realize I am "of an age" where I can no longer tolerate one of two things prior to bedtime: narcotic-laced meds or spicey food. 

One, or both, led to a vividly bizarre dream last night.