Funny Man

Not a lot of time for posting - what with the packing and all, but...

This is a columnist I discovered while reading a newspaper (online) and I had to share. He is so funny. Check him out & enjoy!

Danny Katz

Peace
--Free

Laughing or Crying

I saw this on G+ and really hesitated posting it, but it's so dang funny, I had to. For one thing, the story is just straight out of nowhere. Next, the lady telling the story is so hilarious - or psycho, or describing herself, or lying - pick one. Finally, if I was able to keep a straight face while listening to the story, I'd still fall to pieces every time I saw the expression on the other lady's face. The BFF and I must've replayed this 5 times and it just got worse and worse.

People, people - especially my sister femmes: we have GOT to do better...




Peace
--Free

Something I'm Sharing

No real post; I just want to share with you something I saw this morning:

I Hate Moving...

... so much!

Really, I do. I hate leaving the old place (packing, re-packing, loading up that crap to a truck); I hate getting to the new place (cleaning, painting, un-loading, un-packing); and I just flat out hate change of any kind - even the good kind, and this is the good kind.

Right now, I am one miserable bitch to be around.

My bedroom looks like a storage unit burped and blew up. I can't get packed because when I do get something into a box, I need it twenty seconds later. I'm having to throw out and give things away because I just refuse to move all this stuff. On top of it all, I'm a little depressed because I notice now that I have clothes in three sizes: 4, 6, 14. (Okay, four sizes, but I'm not telling anymore.)

Best part of all of this? I am only moving 2 miles down the road. I'm not ever going far from my family again.

~sigh~

You all know me by now: I can make a mountain out of a two grains of sand and a drop of procrastination...

The BFF I will be roomies with is all excited. Of course she is - she doesn't have to move all her stuff. She has offered to come over and help, but I am trying to have her save her energy for the painting we are going to do. Oh, and the moving of the bed and other pieces of furniture. heh heh. Besides, we'd end up looking at every piece of clothing and doing fashion critiques worthy of Ms. Wintour (or Mr. Blackwell!).

I do thank God (seriously) that I have The World's Best Family. My sister is motivating me ("You have 22 days. That's plenty of time." "You have 17 days." "You lazy heffa, you! You only have 12 days...") One nephew is going to help us paint, another one is going to do the moving (with the first nephew) and clean the carpets in the new place. My niece in North Carolina has been soothing me ("Just breathe, Auntie. I moved across country with 4 weeks notice. You got this.") The niece I live with is being so patient and sweet as I tear her house and garage and storage apart, looking for all my stuff. I locked her beloved (pain in my ass) dog in the garage the other day while I had the front door propped open so I could trot between storage and house for an hour. I also broke a shelf in her pantry while I was getting my pots and pans down... She's probably counting the hours til I'm out of here, but she gets all teary-eyed and says she's going to miss me! Her husband thought that pantry shit was funny, but he didn't laugh while she could hear him. (And, just for the record: no one here is going to miss me much because my ass will be right over here every day to see my sister and the baby!!!)

Am I dealing with this? Yes, but not very well. I get so overwhelmed  by the least little thing anymore. I  am calming myself with the following facts (here goes one of my lists):

• I'm about 5 minutes away (3 if the BFF is driving).
• I will be here to visit every other day or so.
• My darling little nephew, D.J., will be over to spend some nights with me. (Kidnap style!)
• My BFF is part of the fam so she is going to be sneaking over here as much as I will.
• As soon as all this pack/move b.s. is over, I'm going to invite Mr. Malibu Rum over so we can have a really long chat.

It's all good. Change is hard, but it happens. I am just now thinking of a really cute posting I saw on G+: "Life...Some Assembly Required." (I really need a t-shirt with the saying I came up with: "Life - this side UP.")

Whatever. Just think of me and know that this is what I look like when I am staring at this mess of unpacked stuff:

I wish I could snap my fingers or crack my toes and have this shit just all freaking done. Ain't gonna happen, so let me get my lazy ass up from this laptop and get back to packing. Please miss me while I am gone from the blog!

Peace
--Free

Speaking Of Cars

I don't usually pay too much attention to vehicles. I've ridden in the best and I've ridden on ones where the door was held shut with tow-rope (not kidding). I don't care much what a car looks like as long as it runs and can handle these Alaskan roads.

My mother used to say that a poor ride beats a proud walk any day. Mama didn't see the Lexus SX350 I sat in last week or the Honda Pilot that I fell so in love with that I named it "Rosemary."



The Lexus (which I always thought of as a Toyota with a different symbol) was only so much fun because of the gadgets. To tell you how simple I can be, for about 10 minutes I sat and played with the button that opens a cupholder. Yeah, I am a gadget slut.

Don't like the color, not crazy about the car, but, damn - that cupholder!

"Rosemary"

Isn't she beautiful?

~sigh~

Peace
--Free

I Grew A Spine, But It Hurt

So... The local BFF talked me into going car shopping with her. She just wanted a little company while she scoped out deals and such. I gave her a little more than she asked for, but I think she is happy.

Understand that car salesmen work on commission. That's Number One. Number Two: salesmen are not the most up front people on the planet. Now, I am not saying that car salesmen lie, but they know how to hold back. No, fuck it, they lie.

My friend (after checking out about 6 cars) decided to be in love with a Ford Fusion. Funny thing is, we found nothing good at the Ford lot, but we found the Fusion over at Dodge. We also found salesmen on the hustle for every nickel they could get. That is where I grew a spine.

The BFF explained what her bank approved her for and admitted that she was willing to throw in her Permanent Fund Dividend. The salesman said that might not be enough. I called him on his bullshit. He went and got the Manager. As if I'd think shit smells better from a different ass.

"I'd like to let you have it for that, but I won't make any money that way." That was Lie One from the gorgeous Sales Manager.

Okay.

Understand that my BFF is one of the nicest people born into this world. She is sweet, funny, generous, open-hearted... And she has no freaking backbone. (I didn't walk in with one. Matter of fact, we'd mainly gone to that dealership because they are having a drawing for winning 3 extra Permanent Fund Dividends.)

Even though I was just tagging along, I couldn't stand it when the salesmen started holding that Fusion hostage over a measly $250. My friend had laid all her cards on the table - which is such a huge mistake when dealing with salesmen. They knew too much about her at this point. They knew that her current car was about to blow a head gasket (whatever the hell that is); they knew that she was very worried about going into winter without some kind of reliable vehicle; they knew what she had from her bank and maybe they thought she could come up with a little more. Ojh, and they knew that she had fallen in l.o.v.e. with the Fusion. (It's the right color, is known for good gas mileage - and it has a bang-ass stereo. This is all very important to the BFF, especially the stereo. Lord, help her. ~sigh~)

Oh, and let me talk about this car for a moment. It had just landed on the lot. There were at least 7 minor appearance flaws and a couple of safety issues I spotted right off. The car was filthy - as if the former owner had a bunch of kids or a couple of pet monkeys - and we had no idea what was going on under the hood. The test drive went great though, so my friend was happy.

Once they had my friend salivating, the salesmen stopped bargaining at a price just a tad out of her reach. ("And I'd just love to see you drive out of here in it, but...")

I got pissed. At the salesmen for the creepy attempt to get another $250 out of the deal, and at my BFF for sitting there with tears of desire in her eyes.

Thank GOD for my brother, J. That man is just stone cold, bad to the bone when it comes to negotiating. I've watched him work. I've seen him reduce other men to tears across bargaining table. I used to watch him working a deal and think, "What an asshole!" Now I am glad that I sat at the feet of a Master. Brother told me once that the best way to handle any negotiation is to keep the other person off balance. "Be what they don't expect, do what they aren't looking for, and hold your ground."

I looked like a wimp on this particular day. Hell, I felt like a wimp. I loathe car shopping and car salesmen. So I got an attitude and asked the salesman if he was seriously going to let a customer walk out the door over a stinking $250. He stared at me. I stared at him. He blinked. Then he left to get his Manager. (I took the chance to call my nephew because he knows about cars. Gave him the price and a rundown and got his advice: that's a great car and great deal so jump on it! Maybe ask for a year-long warranty.)

Back came our salesman with his manager. Oh, hot damn that Sales Manager is fine. Just pure deliciousness. He even has a sexy name, but I'm not telling.

I went into heat for about five seconds before I remembered that my friend really wanted this car.

The  Sales Manager repeated what the Salesman had said about not being able to go a penny lower. I repeated my line about letting a customer walk. The Sales Manager stared at me. I stared at him, but had to stop because my hormones were turning happy cartwheels. I looked at the Salesman and my hormones calmed down.

I asked the men how they felt about beating the hell out of my friend over $250 when they knew they were going to make SO much more money off someone coming in to buy that hot ass and brand new Durango sitting out there on the showroom floor. (Do you know what a fully loaded Durango goes for these days? Damn.)

Mr. Gorgeous tried to tell me that what one customer does makes no difference in the case of another customer. Next he tried telling me that he had no idea what it was going to cost him to bring the Fusion up to safety; he would know only after they ran it through their checks.

I did a lot of nodding (and kicking my friend under the table to get her to stop leaking tears) and pretended to be sympathetic to the plight of poor salesmen everywhere.

The Sales Manager tells me that he' stuck. He'd like to help my friend out, but...

I avoided looking directly at that gorgeous man (because he was really starting to piss me off), and I channeled my brother.

I called both salesmen liars and told them that they could keep their damn Fusion (okay, I said something worse than "damn"). I reminded them that this car was coming with a cheap ass 3-month warranty and no guarantee that it would be running by New Year's Eve. I said they were going to go to Hell for the lie about not making more money off other deals, and I think I cursed once or twice (okay, I cursed a lot), then I told my friend to get her coat because we were leaving. I started reminding her that we could always get my nephew to take us to the auctions.

Have you ever noticed that salesmen have this thing they do where they try to keep you on their turf? I mean, they can't bullshit you out of your money if you get up and leave, right?

The Manager stopped us before we got to the door. He nicely asked my friend to come back, come back, so they could maybe work something out. He also mumbled something about me being "a little aggressive." (As if I have eff to give about what he thinks of me.)

After about another thirty minutes of a game of Who's Gonna Blink First, we struck a deal. The guys agreed to let my friend put a refundable "Hold" deposit on the car until after the safety check. If the repairs weren't going to be outrageous, then she could have the car for the price she wanted; if not, she could walk away clean.

I wanted to kill my friend because she was sitting there just ready to go out and sell ass or something for the $250. The Manager mumbled something about my attitude, but the Salesman dropped me a wink.

When we'd put up the deposit and walked out of that place, I was ready for a drink, some crack and a big piece of anything chocolate. My friend was doing a little jig because she was sure she was going to get this car. I told her that the Manager really wasn't so fine after all; he mumbles too damn much. I also told her that she was going to get her Fusion. The only reason for the delay was so the Manager could save face.

My friend called me this morning. She got the car.

Peace
--Free

(P.S.: Hope this post is coherent. Had an infusion today & feel just a little bit crappy!)

Couplings: Yes? No?

I am holding things up with a special "friend" because I don't need anything else going on in my life right now.  And because I don't feel about him what I need to feel in order to go to the next level. But. I also kind of would like something else in my life. Here's the thing: I'm too freaking lazy these days to even write more than three pages a day; can I even come up with the energy for a relationship?

Last night, I told my girlfriend that being single is confusing to me. For a while now I have been alone, but it's only lately that I feel lonely. I want to not be single, but I just cannot handle any drama. She says that if I am thinking about relationships, then I am probably ready to be in one. (Like that helps me out, right?) She suggested that I try looking at the pros and cons to being coupled up. (Not that I am legally un-coupled from my last mistake yet. And I'm not calling any future loves "mistakes." Let me just shut up and get on with the post...)

PRO:

• It's nice to have an "other" in your life. Other than a friend, other than just a friend, other than someone you really only like.
• Being part of a couple is nice. I think that, deep inside, we all want to feel "claimed." (And don't give me that crap about how that sounds. Keep your opinions on that to yourselves; this is the blog where I get to spout mine.)
• Right now, I have the affection and friendship, but a deeper relationship brings in deeper and more meaningful things. You can only go deeper with the right person.
• I need a partner because I'm not freewheeling. Maybe because I have old-fashioned values, I like commitment. I like sharing trust and hope.
• I could just be all woman in my world - taking care of the female stuff on my life - and have him be the man. I am damn tired of worrying about shit like the crazy sounds the car is making, trying to get all my groceries from the car to the house, breaking something that I have no idea how to fix, arguing with asshole male salespeople... There are just some things that men handle better. (Again, swallow your opinions or rebut on your blog.)

CON:

• I'm not yet legally untangled. I don't know why I am procrastinating on that. There is a theory floating around that I am using my "marriage" as a barrier. Don't know.
• I don't like being a possession. For some reason, I have always gotten with men who end up wanting to smother me. Claiming me as your loved one does not mean chaining me as your property. 
• There's that whole thing about families and friends. That is probably the worst part of getting into a relationship - you don't just get each other, nooo... You get drunk Uncle Earl and a cousin who has horrible table manners. And, trust me, you cannot hide the family forever. Those freaks come out at night and the daytime.
• There's that whole thing about the first time you burp in front of each other. It's rude and should be avoided, but it is eventually going to happen. You can't always hold off on some things. (Actually, there is an upside to this one: Once you get the first embarrassing "Oops, 'scuse me" over with, you're either seriously okay with each other or not.**)
• I have many flaws and one of them is that I am critical of other people's flaws. I'm such a short-sighted, selfish bitch sometimes. The things is, I always get past a lover's flaws, but it's a process. (Remember the old Ellen DeGeneres joke about getting irritated with a lover after an argument and thinking of his flaws? "So annoying. That breathing he does, in and out...")
• My feelings are tissue-paper thin. I want a partner who is honest and speaks his mind,  but I hate getting used that. 
• I don't know if there is a decent man who can put up with the total mess that I am. Like any woman, I can get a male, but it's tough to get a man. I've had the worst kind of male already, which is why he was able to put up with me; next to him, I was a super prize. Nope. I need a guy who can deal with my whole Seven Dwarves kind of personality: bitchy, witchy, touchy, fussy, moody, cranky and snide. Hell, now that I think about it, I'll be lucky to find a man who won't sit up at night trying to think of ways to kill me in my sleep.

You know what? Maybe I need to just hold off on a relationship for now. Looking over this list, I see that I need to just work on myself for a minute. Maybe I will use the solitude of the coming ice age that we call winter to do just that. (You think I am exaggerating, but, it feels like winter starts in October of one year and ends in June three years later.)

Peace

--Free

** Funny story about this kind of situation. A female friend of mine seems to get gas from just breathing. She spent the first year or so of her marriage blaming her "toots" on her old, sick dog. When the dog passed away, my friend would almost get ill trying to hold things in until her husband wasn't around. I don't know if she finally got honest about this - or maybe she's blaming the cat now. I don't know why we women are so repressed; my ex-husband used to fart in bed and hold my head under the sheets.

Powered Down

We are recovering from windstorms that knocked out power for three days. No lights and no electronics. Three days. I have learned things about myself.

• I don't like camping - not outside, not in the house, not even at the best place in the world - if it doesn't involve all my comforts. 
• One of my comforts is hot coffee two seconds after I roll out of bed.
• Another of my comforts is turning on my laptop two seconds after my first sip of coffee.
• I hate messing with propane and "campstoves" to make my coffee. (Scratch that. I hate messing with propane and campstoves.)
• It takes about ten years to make a pot of coffee on a campstove. It's like trying to make lava with a match.
• Toddlers and new puppies are tough to entertain when you are cranky.
• Toddlers don't know their own strength.
• Puppies don't know to run like hell when they see Pebbles or Bam-Bam coming.
• This is the puppy 

• This is the puppy cornered by Bam-Bam

• Even when there is a power outage, I will hit a light switch every time I walk into a room. Every. Time.
• My family can only take about 3 hours and 22 minutes of me being cranky. 
• I have the most awesome best friend. She came over and picked me up for lunch just to get me out of the house. And because my sister called her and said, "Come get her before we kill her."
• The House of Bread is the best (and I mean the BEST) neighborhood hangout. Their fresh breads and sandwiches will substitute for Prozac any day. 
• Fox News had better news coverage of the storm than our local paper.
• I hate Fox News.
• Give men control over the generator during an outage and they make sure to hook up the freezer, fridge and TV. I'm not kidding. Because the Cowboys are playing. I'm really not kidding.
• Families grow closer during power outages in Alaska. We have to keep warm somehow. 

Peace

--Free

**REVIEW** Sephora Favorites Sampler (for her)

**Full name of product: Sephora Favorites Deluxe Fragrance Sampler For Her**

PRO: This is a nice gift to give someone who likes trying different fragrances. Here's the deal: You purchase a gift box containing various scent samples and a certificate redeemable for whatever amount you paid. I believe the prices range from around $40 to over $100. Once the giftee has tried the samples and chosen a favorite, they take the certificate into Sephora's for a full-size product.

Nice. Thoughtful.

PRO The gift boxes are very pretty and the samples are each adequate for several days' use. I looked up some info on the different sets offered and one thing I noticed is that they change quickly. For instance, I got my set for my birthday in June; I can no longer find a set advertised with the same set of fragrances. Here is what I received in my particular box:

COACH Poppy Flower
DKNY PureDKNY A Drop of Vanilla
DKNY PureDKNY A Drop of Verbena
DOLCE & GABANA The One
ESCADA Especially Escada
GIRGIO ARMANI Acqua Di Gioia
GUCCI Guilty Intense
JENNIFER ANISTON Jennifer Aniston
JUICY COUTURE Viva La Juicy
MARC JACOBS Daisy Eau So Fresh
MARC JACOBS Oh, Lola!

Let me just say right now that I almost picked (heh heh) the Marc Jacobs "Daisy" just for the cute name!

All the fragrances are actually nice, but I have a scent-type preference for perfumes in the "Woody/Oriental" family.  Think "Dune" or "Shalimar." Just for the record, I will probably go with the Escada.

CON: One minor gripe I have is that for the two DKNY scents, you better have a good nose since the samples are not distinguished from one another except by color: green or white.  Well, damnit, I can barely see the print on a STOP sign without my glasses, so I had to go outside, hold both samples up to the light and have a discussion with my alter ego before I figured them out. And - oh, yeah, I think you're supposed to just know that the green is Verbena and the white Vanilla, at least, that's what I came up with. (I have a disease that messes with my thought processes; you think I had fun with this little exercise?)

Now, like I said, this is a great gift idea, but (other than the DKNY trick), I have a couple problems with it:

CON - There are various sets in Sephora's gift collection (I saw a set with a lot of florals and another with a lot of "clean/cool" scents a'la Calvin Klein, etc.). I drooled over one box that included Versace's Yellow Diamond. CHOOSE CAREFULLY because the certificate can only be redeemed for a product represented by the samples in your set. (I have a problem with this because I feel the money that was paid should be applied any way I'd like.)

COND - If your sample box was bought at Sephora "inside JC Penney," that's the only place you can redeem your certificate. Not online or in a stand-alone Sephora. I don't know what that's about. Personally, it's a real pain in my patience to go to our local Sephora's. I'd rather go online and pay the shipping and handling.

A big "Plus" is, there is no time limit on redeeming the certificate. Good thing for me since I am having a heck of a time deciding on a favorite.

And, by the way, this review might sound a little harsh. I'm a little testy because of another issue I had with Sephora. Belonging to their little online "club" (or whatever it is), I was due a free birthday gift. When I went in to pick it up, the store had run out of whatever the gift was. They had me leave my name and contact info so that they could mail my gift. Yeah. Never heard a word from anyone at Sephora. They have no problem slamming my Inbox with their ads.. That's cool though, they did let me pick out some samples. I should have been greedier and chosen more than two. Hmph.

Peace
--Free

P.S.: I'm going to apologize for any incoherence in this post; I am having a rough day with the Sarc.

**REVIEW** Avon Anew Ultimate Age Repair Cream

**Let me say up front that I did not have to pay for mine. I got it courtesy of a friend who bought several products and put together gift baskets for a group of woman we hang with. I was not paid to write this review.**

It's a bit pricey (around 30 bucks), but because it takes so little per application - and the moisture lasts all day - it might be cheaper in the long run. (If you don't have an Avon Lady, you can buy online from Avon or other merchants.

While this is an "age repair" product, I think it's a great cream for anyone with dry skin or those who spend a lot of time in extreme weather. My skin hasn't really begun to age, but I live in a cold-weather state and I believe in being proactive.

Me. 51st b-day. Post hair-cutting session!

My favorite thing about this cream is that it has such a smooth and silky feeling. Another thing is that a tiny amount really does go a long way. I actually just touch two fingers on top of the cream, then apply to one section of my face at a time - one side of my nose and sweeping under the eye, other side, around the mouth and chin, and so on.

I like that the cream is not oily or sticky, thanks to that silky texture. I do suggest that, as with any cream, wait a couple of minutes before applying any type of powder foundation.

My skin is very sensitive and unlike some creams with sunscreens included, this caused me no irritation. It has SPF 25 UVA/UVB*.

Pros - Nice texture, the moisturizing lasts, the product lasts, has sun protection.

Cons - None.

Bottom line - this cream is worth every nickel.

Peace
--Free

* UVA/UVB - Ultraviolet A and Ultraviolet B definition at Free Dictionary.

Handle With Care

I have a peeve with online merchants. I won't even go into a lot of detail, but consider the following:

With a $15 gift certificate from NewEgg.com (please, don't get me started on their asses & why I have this chintzy gift cert), I have been trying to order some earbuds. I just want to use the 15 bucks before the gift cert expires.  I found 2 pairs to add to the Shopping Cart:


--JVC HA-F10C 3 3.5mm Connector Earbud Headphone.

Price: $4.25 Shipping* $2.99

and

--Maxwell 190560 3.5mm L-plug Connector Earbud Dynamic Earbuds (Black)

Price: $2.99 Shipping* Free

(The descriptions are straight from NewEgg. *Shipping is noted on item detail pages as "restricted"; a note on the Shopping Cart page warns, "Additional fees may apply to shipments to AK, HI and PR.")

No problem. Just about dang anybody that has something online to sell online tries to charge more to those outside the Lover 48. Whatever.

I'm thinking that, surely, 15 bucks will cover a both pair of such cheaply priced earbuds - even with the "additional fees". (The weight of the JVC buds Googled out at 0.46oz. I've probably swallowed a greater weight of spiders in my sleep.)

I enter in my zip code (so that S&H can be calculated) and...

The subtotal/products less S&H (even though, for whatever reason, the JVC's priced at $5.99):

$8.99

The total of Shipping (my zip code gets one choice of "NewEgg 2 Day"):

$19.17

Yeah.

So, the total I'd have to pay for a couple pairs of cheap earbuds that weigh practically nothing is $28.15

What the happy hell?

Now, back when getting things to Alaska (or almost anywhere else) was pretty troublesome, ridiculous shipping and handling charges were just a part of our lives. Every time my family here sent gifts to my Lower 48 fam, we longer saving up for the mailing charges than we had for any gifts. That was just life. Then. These days, people in the Lower 48 can have groceries delivered cheaper than some other folks can drive back and forth to the store. Global supply chain management goes on every day. What the hell is it about merchants having a problem shipping between the Lower 48 and Alaska (or Hawaii and Puerto Rico)? 

I was so irritated that when a buddy called to chat, all I did was complain until they decided to just help me look up some stuff while we were on the phone. Probably only to shut up my harping ass! LOL

He told me to go over to http://postcalc.usps.com/

Guess what?

If someone in Miami (which is about as far away from Anchorage Alaska as you can get without leaving the U.S.) sent me a 10" x 5" PRIORITY Flat Rate Envelope, it would cost them a whopping 5 bucks at the Post Office - or $4.90 online. FIVE DOLLARS. Five.

So where the hell are the sellers at NewEgg shipping this spaceship-sized package from? Mars? Hell, I could skate my happy ass down and get the package for cheaper than they want to charge.

This whole rip-off of shipping prices when it comes to merchants selling to Alaskans is insane. I know that some merchants do the right thing. One of the most fabulous places to shop online is The Fragrance Shop. They manage to send bubble-wrapped, fragile bottles of oil fragrances for a super-fair price (around 4 bucks, if I remember right). If you want to talk handling charges, TFS also wraps each order in beautiful paper inside a nice box and they include a free sample of fragrance in every single order. I'm pretty sure the last item I got from them weighed more than 6 pairs of earbuds.

Seriously, you merchants out there, you have to start thinking better of your customers. You probably are losing some good business. Plenty of Alaskans make great money. We are stuck up here in snow for months and always looking for ways to keep from succumbing to Cabin Fever. Do you know how many folks practice "retail therapy?" It's not even that regular working people can't afford the S&H; sometimes, it's just an attitude of not wanting to be screwed over.

Now my friend is writing NewEgg a complaint letter since I am starting to feel a little too Sarc-y too focus. I told him how nice he is to do that. He said it's only because I can worry the stink out of shit and he doesn't want to hear me bitching about this every time we talk. Heh heh.

Peace

--Free

Media, Aging, Acceptance, Esteem

(I started this post a couple days ago, then a BFF & I got hold of a few nothing-to-do hours, some lawn chairs and we had a sky full of sun... So, ya know.)

A good friend of the family had his 41st birthday and a bunch of us are got to talking about aging. (The friend in question is a guy and he's not been in on the conversation. So far.)

There are a lot of jokes about how we spend the first few years of life counting our age in fractions and spend our elderly years doing the same thing. I for one just think of myself as "30 + experience." (My friend is more honest and says she is "40 + change." (I always want to tell her, "Yeah, Change of Life," but I won't go there since I am the older of the two.)

Okay, here's the thing: why is getting older such a big deal? It's not like we spoil or something. At whatever "mature" age we are, we still feel and think and love and crave and dream and all the same good stuff we did at our younger ages. Hell, we know how to do all that stuff better.

When my friends (and my sister) and I started our conversation, one of the things we all wondered about is Why? Why is getting older such a big deal? Why - even if you are not in optimum health (physical, financial, emotional or whatever) - does it seem that we are not supposed to be okay with who and what we are? We are never supposed to be okay with where we care in our lives unless we meet some media-sanctioned ideal.

Want to heat up a discussion? Bring up the media. I did and, man, we broke out the Malibu and O.J. then and just got down. We didn't have a simple girl chat; we had a freaking convention. One of the ladies went up and grabbed my laptop so we could Google shit. Yeah, that serious.

If you read gossip-type news at all (or catch it on CNN, MSNBC, E.T.), you know that "media" is obsessed with women looking "half their age," or snapping back from 9 months of pregnancy to be a "Yummy Mummy." What the hell is up with having to fit into a size 4 after months of harboring another human being inside your body? And try doing that without the help of personal trainers and chefs, and without the motivation of the Bod Squad Mafia of fans waiting for you to fail. Those celebrities get no downtime unless that's they totally give up "press." No wonder it seems that most of Hollywood is kind of nuts. They have to be. That's nothing but pure pressure 24/7. Forget a sex tape - what if you wanna pick your nose? How'd you like to have that caught on film. But that's another rant. Let's stay on topic.

Now, because I and none of my friends are famous (or even infamous outside Chilkoot Charlie's), we can sneak out to stores in the dead of night looking like Hell and his ugly brother. Not that we do this. No. But the thing is, Media makes it so hard for even "regular" people to be, well, regular.

If you don't look 30 when you are 50, well, you better get out there and buy that new laser-treatment-in-a-bottle. If you can't shop in the Juniors' "small" section - even though you were never small and have two kids and are glued to an office chair 9 hours a day - well then, shame on your sorry, fat, old, ugly self.

Look at what the media focuses on when dealing with celebrities: their bodies, their age-less looks, their hair, etc. As a pop celeb, unless you somehow corner the market on it, you're not going to get a lot of attention for feeding the hungry, helping out a community of citizens or just being a good and decent human being who is more financially fortunate than most. What do you think would get a celeb the most press: saving a family's home from foreclosure or going on a racist or homophobic rant? Matter of fact, that whole Kardashian clan has made a freaking franchise that started with Kim banging Ray J and releasing the video. (Leaked, my ass; that was a planned career move.) And now, we have to hear about Kim's curves and hair every time we hit the wrong button on the TV remote. (By the way, what the Joker-from-Batman hell happened to Bruce Jenner's face?)

Maybe it's just me (me and my group), but I've had days when I was feeling alright with life, then I spot a picture of a 65 year old "diva" who has better tits, ass and legs than I do - oh, and who looks 45). That will crash your day so fast... One of my friends says that when she looks at photos of the current hot chicks (Jolie, Aniston or, heaven forbid, one of the really young Hots), she feels as if she is looking into a trick mirror that's telling her what she ought to look like but never will. And this woman is actually just so pretty. Without Photoshop. Such a downer.

I remember one time when I was all ready to go out with friends and I passed by the TV on my way out and caught a glimpse of some female celebrity. In two seconds, I went from ready to have a great night with friends to feeling like I'd grown a hump on my back and a gray chin hair. Of course, I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I hadn't even thought about how I looked (I was clean and presentable, and, damnit, I smelled so good!) until I saw that image. It actually sort of affected my whole evening. I remember looking at other females at the bar and thinking, We don't look like "them." How crazy is that? Of course we don't look like Them. We don't have pros doing our hair and makeup, we don't have the wardrobe (or the slaved for - or Spanxed for - bodies), and we don't have "looking good" printed at the tops of our job descriptions. We are just trying (most of us) to look like the best version of ourselves.

SMH

One of the ladies I will not name (she doesn't read blogs, but I'm making sure she sees this post) even talked about how this kind of thing seriously affects her relationship. She says that when she knows she has a romantic evening coming (and with the both of them working and three kids under 8, trust me, she and her husband plan for sex like some people plan for a sabbatical), she refuses to look at anything that has those perfect celebs pictured. She says her husband can't live up to "media" stereotypes any more than she can, but he doesn't have the same body issues. She says (forgive me, L, for blog-blabbing) that if she has any images in her head of those perfect females that it just messes with her libido. Wow. That's rough.

I think that men do have body issues just like women do. Maybe not to the extent that we do. It's crazy that any of us have to have these "issues" at all. Just a few years ago, I always laughed that whole "body issues" thing. How silly, I thought. Until I went through my pharmaceutically-induced weight changes. There is nothing in the world like sprouting a muffin top and fat side handles to make you want to torch every little, lacy, sexy, non-granny-panty item in your wardrobe. Sex in anything than complete darkness is just a memory... Boy, I was so naive at sizes 5-8.  Naive and smug. And have I learned or matured about this? Nope. I'm losing the weight now because of a change in meds, thank goodness. (And let me tell you all something: Once I can fit back into my "little & cutes," I might wear only slut clothes. So damn glad I just stored all my cute shit.) I don't like myself at over 140 & I won't feel like "me" until I'm back to that. I don't know why. I could have lost some limbs or one of my senses, right? I don't care. I just want to look good in my cute jeans and undies again. Is that media-influenced or is that just normal craziness? One of my weirdities? Whatever. It is what it is.

Anyway, my friends and I shared a bunch of stories. Stories about our insecurities about our lifestyles because we don't have homes with vaulted ceilings, blue bedrooms with wall-sized fish tanks or servants' quarters...  Stories about being brainwashed into not finding and loving the right person because they don't look like the photo-shopped people on a movie poster or CD. About being made to feel as if we are worthless because we are raising children who aren't being pursued by colleges at the age of 10 or who aren't playing Chopin after only one lesson. About having the media dictate to us that unless we drive the latest, wear the most expensive, own the biggest or fuck the hottest, our lives just cannot be as joyful and satisfying as the people they give us a models.

The Chicks and I decided that not even one of us is as bad off as we first thought. We have our insecurities, but we deal with them pretty well. The people we love love us. We love each other not for the way we look but for the way we love. The men in our lives appreciate us for our toughness and humor. We love the men in our lives because they are worth loving. We're not perfect, but we're pretty freaking okay.

We regular folk need some positive affirmations. Here is what we came up with as a group. Not everyone of us agreed on all of them, but...

• It's okay to be whatever size you are. As long as you are healthy and feel okay with it. If you don't feel okay with it, do something about it or find someone who loves every delicious pound of you.
• Having a wrinkle is not the end of the world. Injecting poison into your face and refusing to smile is a lot less fun than developing laugh lines. (You have our permission to pluck that chin hair!)
• If you are 40, 50, 60 - whatever - it's okay to look your damn age. Why the hell does everyone want to be Benjamin Button. Why the hell do you want to be with someone who isn't okay with you looking your age. Matter of fact, beautiful, why would you want to be with someone who only wants to be with your for your looks?
• Look the age you look, act the age you feel. If you are 70, but feel 20, then enjoy. Age has nothing to do with joy. Put a big purple bow on your cane and do your damn thing.
• Love people the way you want to be loved. Not for their looks or their money or for what they can do for you, but for the way they make you feel.
• There are no "perfect" people. Even beautiful people have heartaches and fears. Sometimes, they have more than the rest of us. They have to learn to accept happiness just like everyone else.
• The next time you see the "10 Sexiest," ask yourself this: Do I really want to work that hard to look that good? 
• Accept you. Do you. 

Peace

--Free (and the other chicks)

Nice and Random

One of my girlfriends and I went on a little run the other day. Nothing big, just lunch and some shopping. One thing did happen that got us both thinking and has me obsessing.

Lunch was supposed to be my treat, but when I went to settle, someone had already done it for me. The staff couldn't tell me who had done the nice deed and I hadn't noticed anyone in particular. (I really should have taken a good, long look around before I left!)

When I got to the car and told my girlfriend, she and I talked about how sweet it was for someone to treat us. We tried to remember the last time something like that had happened to either of us. I can remember a lot of times when someone picked up a bar tab for me. That's about partying and trying to hit on or be hit on. Common. The only time someone ever picked up a meal tab for me, I was around eighteen or nineteen and ended up engaged to the guy.

This incident struck me because I've been talking a lot about how men don't respect women anymore. They don't have to because so many women are too busy throwing themselves at the feet of anything hetero and single. Women are not really practicing the art of being ladies. I sometimes think that men have no idea exactly how females want to be treated. If they hold a door or pull out a chair, will they get ripped for being sexist? If they offer to pay for a date, will the female remind them of her own economic abilities? Then there are the women so busy ripping the balls off men that they can't answer their own question of, "Where are all the good guys?" The answer is that they are somewhere in hiding, protecting their hearts and souls from being made into trophies.

Anyway.

My girlfriend has another theory about lunch. She thinks that maybe we owe our meal to the trio of older ladies sitting next to us. Maybe. They certainly were all up into our conversation. Not that our conversation was all that interesting, but I swear one of those women was about to throw in a question or two.

Well, whoever you are, you did a really sweet thing. I'm sorry I wasn't able to thank you. You made one of the last really good days of our summer even nicer. The next time I can afford to be nice to a stranger, I am going to pick up their tab.

Peace
--Free

Cancerians

**Insomnia is visiting tonight. My mind is personality traits (mine). Thought I'd re-post a favorite.**



I know that I am not supposed to be into astrological signs. At least, that's what I was raised to believe as a Pentecostal. (I am pretty sure that if I look hard enough, there are posts here against astrology.)

But.

I was on G+ earlier and got all excited because I thought I was about to Add a fellow Cancerian. I was wrong. but... My mind is all on the astrological now.

Maybe there really is nothing meaningful to do with stars and moons and all that when it comes to personalities - in which case, I am just weird. I think there is something to it all, though. I so fit the general ideas about what it is to be a Cancer. According to one site, my strengths and weaknesses are:

Strengths	Weaknesses
Adaptable	Moody
Loyal	Sensitive
Attached to family	Emotional
Empathetic	May be indecisive at times

(Laziness should be on the list since I just straight copied and pasted that!)

But, damn! That is all so me. Except for that whole being adaptable thing. Nope. I do not like change. Otherwise, I really am a crab. For one thing, come at me the wrong way and I will crawl right into my little shell and just shut you the hell out. For years! (But I will remember how I care about you and let you back in. Damnit.)

So, is it really all about a birth sign, or is it that we all share the same traits? Someone once told me that Astro-signs are b.s. and that you can apply the same traits to a Leo as you can to a Cancer. Personally, I don't believe that. For one thing, I was married to a Leo who is batshit crazy, but who had a Leo sister who was only half as crazy. Tell you what: thee Leos I've known can be some cold-hearted folks - only in my opinion, of course...

In search of Cancerian me, I went over to my online mentor (Wikipedia) only to be a little disappointed.

Wiki got my Characteristics and Relationships down perfectly, but I don't know where the hell they were going with Occupations. I can't stand the sight of anyone sick or bleeding, I kill plants just by walking near them, and I hate real estate with a passion I can't begin to describe. (And trust me on the real estate crap; I have a Broker brother and an Agent niece. I never again want to see a piece of HUD paperwork as long as I live.)

What else?

I hate my official birthstone (or maybe I've never seen a good cut) and always choose pearl instead. Never noticed before, but I can get down with the moonstone. Silver is my favorite metal - but I look like a black Popsicle if I wear orange or silver clothing. White clothes? Yeah, I can do white, of course. Most dark-skinned folks do white beautifully. This is why people who tan wear white.

Hmm... So.

Back over to the site that got my Strengths and Weaknesses so right.

This one gets me better. Except for the one part about my not taking revenge. That's only sort of true. I won't actually do anything to someone who hurts me, but my therapy is to spend hours just thinking of how I could get  them back. I've gone all Wile E. Coyote before - drawing out detailed plans...

I almost choked when I read that part about the making and maintaining wealth. First, I thought, "Hah! Not this kid." Then I remembered that for years I did help raise, feed and shelter four kids who are not my own. Looking back I have no idea how I managed that, but there you go.

The most Cancer thing about me? I guess it's that I have emotional amnesia. If you are ever my true friend, you are always my friend, no matter what.

Peace
--Free

**Earlier tonight, I found a site exploring the more sensual traits of the different signs. My roomie & I are both Cancerian, and only a week apart by birth date  This site got it mostly right about me but not for my friend. (Weird, right?) Their mention of water as my "element" made me laugh. Me, the chick afraid of anything wet and deeper than a puddle! But I love that it has all my best traits defined so well. Hell, I'm thinking of printing this crap to hand out to prospective partners, therapists and correctional officers! The bad thing? It has my best "partners" all wrong. There is no freaking way that a Leo should be in my orbit (although seducing a Scorpio sounds hot). Maybe it's wasn't about being a Leo with T**; maybe that was about him being an asshole and me being stupid. Anyway... Since I'm awake and it's 3 in the morning, maybe I will go and check out more on those Scorpios.** Peace.

Translate This

Boy, I needed a good laugh and I got one day before yesterday.

My girlfriend drove me over to the Walmart pharmacy. We saw a commotion and, of course, we rubbernecked like crazy. There were quite a few folks trying to see what was happening. There were a few  police cars blocking off half the parking lot, the store manangers blocked the entrance closest to the happenings... it was crazy. Mostly, I was annoyed as hell that we had to go all out of the way to do what we needed.

A couple of nice looking fellows were stuck same as my girlfriend and I, trying to get back out to the parking lot. One of them said something to my friend and she almost fainted because he had an accent. French, I think. He and his friend seemed nice, kind of shaking their heads and hoping that all was okay.

Now, I am wary of men with accents. I am not into looks or money so much. Intelligence, kindness, sweetness and maybe a little swagger... That rocks me. An non-American accent will just do me in. Accents are sexy. I watch out for that because I married a man once and I am pretty sure the accent did something to my hormones. If he'd been from Tuscon, I might have dated him without going into heat. My crazy girlfriend just loves an accent. She once dated a guy for six months that she didn't even like because he had some kind of islander accent. This was around the time of Stella getting her groove back. I'm not even sure if my friend liked this guy enough to give her groove away. They talked on the phone a lot. Whatever.

My friend tends to stereotype situations and has no qualms about using friends as bait. As her black friend, I'm her magnet for guys with a Euro accent. We have another friend who has a body that's a freaking siren call for guys with any kind of "Island" accent. (We are all still shameless flirts. You get better at it with age.) Lately though, I'm not feeling cute. I don't even feel sociable. This didn't stop my friend from flirting her ass off with the guys at the store. (I need to talk with her about our age and the need for some mature dignity.)

So, there I am, nauseous, sweating and just wanting to get back in the truck where there is air conditioning. My friend is batting her eyes and chatting away with her new buddies. (I also need to talk to her about how silly the whole eye-battng thing s for a woman anywhere past high school. And, for us, high school is a really dim memory.)

Anyway, I finally tear the BFF away by  threatening to either faint or throw up. As we are walking off, the two guys start speaking, yeah, French. My friend, who has no self-esteem issues, wanted to believe they were being complimentary. Maybe. I couldn't help pointing out to her that the problem with hitting on foreign men is that they could be saying anything.

"Girl, they are checking out my ass and you know this."

We get home and, because my friend is a great friend, she sticks around to watch TV, help me cut my hair (again), try to fix food I might want to eat, etc. It wasn't until a few hours later that my sister noticed something on the butt of my friend's shorts.

"B____, how the hell do you have a bicycle tire mark on your behind?"

I don't think I even want to guess at how it happened, but, sure enough, my friend had a perfect tire mark right across the back of her pink shorts.

How the hell, right?

Anyway, I had such fun freaking her out with what those French dudes might have been saying. At least they probably really were checking out her ass.

Seriously, how did she get a tire mark on her ass?

Peace
--Free

P.S.: Number One - Typing this on a tablet (cos I had another PC mishap) so I hope it is readable. Number Two - Had to change my cell number after YEARS because of the stalker who is my ex; if I haven't sent you the new number, hit me via email.

Leaving Something

I have talked here before about a friend of mine who is fighting cancer. The fight doesn't look fair anymore. I guess that, without realizing it, this is what's had me in this mood lately.

When I went over to see my girlfriend the other day, she looked as if she was making her peace with things. I hate that. I don't want her to "make peace." I want her to keep fighting. She isn't. She is getting ready for something. I asked her if this was so and she said that we should all be making our peace. This is the same friend who told me a truth about dying when she said that we all want to see Jesus, but none of us wants to die. It scares me now that she seems more ready to meet Jesus than she ever did.

So, what happens when it's over? The body will be empty and cold. What's left? My friend had thought of this. She told me that what she wants more than anything is that, after she is gone, for the people who loved her not to be sad. She wants to believe that we will remember not that she "left" us, but what she left us.

We didn't talk for hours the way we used to. Her daughter is taking care of her and she told me when I got there that her mother sometimes just fades out. How selfish am I that I didn't want to be there when she started "fading?" I was scared that it would be the last time. I don't want to be there for that.

What I want to remember about my friend is how she laughed loud all the time, but it never seemed like an unladylike thing for her to do. When she laughed, everyone around her wanted to laugh, and we all wanted her to keep laughing. She has a great laugh: silly and high-pitched. (And why do I slip back and forth talking about her in the past and present tense?)

I want to remember the fun we had. Like the time that when we were younger and I borrowed my father's car for us to go out in one night. We went by the Cattle Company (when it used to be a real hot-spot here in town) and cruised the parking lot, flirting with guys and seeing what the competition looked like. We passed by one group and I almost ran over a guy's foot. My friend, of course, did that screaming laugh of hers.

When I tried to reconcile with my first husband and things weren't going well, my friend was going through her own divorce. One night, after a fight with David, she and I went down to Jamico's (another "spot" back in the day), ordered nachos and sat in the parking lot, drinking Jack and Coke out of the soft-drink cans. I got so fucked up that we had to sit out in the cold lot for a couple hours before I'd left my friend move the car.

There are a lot of things I don't have clear memories of. I had to ask my sister about some of the things that went on "back in the day." My sister's best memory was of a dance contest. There was a hangout downtown in the lounge of the Holiday Inn. My sister and I both liked to go there. I'd be there with my friends and she and her friends would kind of absorb us into their group. One night, there was a dance contest. You'd couple up with anybody and take turns dancing down the middle of the line of other people. My friend and I had ten years on my sister and her friends. We kicked ass, but my friend slid down on something and almost brought down forty people with her. Hilarious.

If my friend leaves me, she is leaving me with so much. I can't even out into words the times she made me laugh or smile when I just didn't want to laugh or smile ever again. She is the only female friend I have who had a habit of kissing me on the mouth when we said "Hi" and "Bye." She is the friend who helped get me through my mother's funeral. She is the friend I called one night from Texas from a bus station in the middle of a thunderstorm, in the middle of one of my fights with Tim. She is the friend who has always known when I was hurt or embarrassed or in trouble.

My friend is one those people who can say, "I love you," and it sounds so real and special. Not like the "Love ya" thing I tend to do with people I really do love, but I am just saying words.  Every single time that she has said, "Love you," it's been the real deal. It's saying not just that she loves me, but that she's really down for me. She is the friend that would, if I needed, come get me out of a bad situation. She is the friend who really, actually prays for me. And tells me about it.

This all seems so all about me, but I'm just trying to tell you about my friend.

When I was going through a really horrible time at work and I told her I just wanted to quit my job and run away to Budapest or somewhere, my friend priced tickets to Portland and was going to give me a weekend vacation for my birthday. I told her Budapest or nowhere. We ended up throwing a house party to end all house parties. She met a very Significan Other at that party and I know that she is leaving him pieces of her heart too.

My friend is leaving me with her smile, her laugh, her eyes that seemed to understand deep inside people. She is leaving beautiful memories. She is leaving me some of her strength and faith.

Maybe I am selfish for only thinking right now about how I won't be able to feel her or see her once she's gone. I won't be able to hear her voice. Why does all that mean so much to us? I'm just really trying to understand. I miss her so much already.

Music Flashback: J.T.

This is what I had playing last night while I tried to write. The writing didn't go so well, but the music was still as good as needed.

For tonight: Ladysmith Black Mambazo.

Peace
--Free

My Inner Child Escaped

I saw a G+ pal's tagline of "World's oldest living child" and I am stealing it. My "inner" child has always preferred the out of doors and yesterday it was in full swing.

My girlfriend and I had a sort of double date for coffee and pastries. My girlfriend's date was a local guy she'd only recently met and really hit it off with. They would only have a small amount of time to hook up before she'd be leaving town. I was kind of hoping things would work out with them because, as a couple, they'd be a little like my guy friend and me. My guy is in and out of town for work, and spends a ton of his time Stateside. I like the arrangement since I don't do those clingy relationships, where he's breathing in my face every moment. Been there and done that with Crazy Man.

We were drinking our coffee out of actual ceramic mugs (instead of the usual paper contraptions) and my girlfriend, who is fidgety, kept tapping her spoon against the side of her mug. She was a little pissed off and embarrassed that her date was not there and the more irritated she became, the more she fidgeted, tapping the hell out of her cup. My friend (who is always on time, by the way, and is never mad when I am late - or even the time I showed up at the wrong damn place) was trying to be the gentleman and keep my girlfriend feeling included. He asked about her latest project (she's a singer out of Portland and is working on some new songs) and praised a performance of hers that he'd caught some months ago. I am a woman, so I kept telling her how great I thought her new boobs looked. (Not that I believe in surgery for something so unnecessary, but, hey.) I think the compliments on her boobs were working, but then, boy-oh-boy-oh-boy - her date called and cancelled. He should have called way earlier if he wanted to be polite.

Let me say that my girlfriend can not only out-cuss me, but she's a whole lot less picky about where she'll let loose with the language. I am still Pentacostal and mama-raised enough not to cuss in public. But, oh, good mercy, my friend let it rip. Before she hung up her phone, I think her poor "date" had been renamed in Greek, Latin and Ebonics. That shit was almost funny, except I felt bad for the guy. Plus I was embarrassed as hell about all the cussing. I tried my damndest to slink down into a crack of my chair. My guy friend handled it by talking really quietly to my girlfriend. I guess that's the trick about people mirroring your behavior. Whatever. All I know is he got the heffa to shut the hell up.

I embarrass very easily and I'm already in early menopause, so right there in the middle of a busy coffee shop, I bet I sweated off about ten pounds. But what happened to my girlfriend after her little rant would have crippled me emotionally for life.

When she quit cussing and being so freaking loud and country, she went back to doing that spoon-tapping thing on the cup. She was tapping so fast it looked like her hand was vibrating. I don't know if it was how hard she hit the cup or if she'd just already cracked it, but the cup just suddenly shattered. Coffee went everywhere - all over her, the table, the floor.  And, the natural reaction to something like that is for a person to jump out of the way or scoot back, right? I jumped up, my guy friend reached over to grab his phone off the table, and my girlfriend scooted back. Except her chair didn't scoot with her.

Oh my good happy hell. I have no idea how it happened just from trying to scoot back, but my friend's chair tipped back and she ended up (just for a couple of seconds) like a lyric out of that dirty rap song. I forget the name of the group, but the lyrics were something like "Face down, ass up."

I am so wrong, yes, I know this, but damnit, I laughed so hard I just about threw up. What made it all even funnier is the trouble she had getting herself righted. After falling backwards in a chair - with some of your long hair getting stuck under the chair - there is just no graceful way in this world to roll over, get on your knees and stand up. I don't care how many other people run over to help out.

I told you guys that I've been depressed lately. Well, let me tell you what: I am freaking cured. I still at this moment cannot think about what happened without laughing.

Yes, I should be ashamed of myself because it was horrible. My friend was so embarrassed, but in that way where instead of acting shamed, she acted more pissed off. It never helps when something like that happens and people run around trying to help you. It all just makes you feel more embarrassed. Probably didn't help my girlfriend out that her maniac friend (me) was crying laughing. I think I was a little bit hysterical or out of control. I just could not stop laughing. I swear, it's this fucking menopause.

Anyway, we managed to get out of there without causing anymore damage. My guy friend told me later that it wasn't very cool of me to laugh so hard about it, but that at least I tried not to be loud. (He can kiss my ass because I saw him about to choke trying not to laugh.) My girlfriend is not mad at me, believe it or not. She jokes that she is glad she made me laugh. She is either super-cool and belongs in the BFF club or she is just waiting to get back home and poke holes in a little black doll named Trudy.

So, yeah, I guess I am still a little childish. Don't judge me; you'd be laughing too.

Peace
--Free

Music Therapy: Ray Charles

A girlfriend & I sat last night listening to some oldie-goodies, sipping some goldie-winies.

Mr. Charles, 1963. A favorite.

Peace
--Free

Coming Off The Ledge

I had a few very bad days of being super-depressed. When I get like that and nothing else can bring me around, I go off the grid; close myself up away from everyone and everything so that I can do my praying and thinking in peace. I also try to find reasons to deal better with everything.

The other day - about Day 5 into my time in the abyss - I was re-reading a book about the band INXS. I just loved  this group back in the day. The singer, Michael Hutchence committed suicide (or at least, gave in to sadness) at such a young age, 37. Like a lot of people, I was surprised and had to ask the usual "Why?"

A good way to revive yourself out of a funk - or at least talk yourself off the ledge - is to think of someone who didn't make it out. You think of how much they must be missed by the people who loved them, and all the wonderful things they did not live to see. You think, or I did in the case of Hutchence, of  how the talent they shared with us is the only thing left. I still use the lyrics that Hutch and Andrew Farris put out there for us. And Hutch isn't the only sweet soul who didn't make it; he's just a famous face of so many people's pain. They just didn't make it out of a very bad, and probably very temporary, place. As Bono put it about Hutchence: he was just stuck in a moment.

Now, know one thing about me: I get stuck in moments, but I've always made it out. I have a secret weapon in the war on depression. I have a deep faith in Jesus. If I didn't, I'd have not made it through things that came years before this bad time. Trust that.

Jesus promised, "I will not leave you as orphans, I will come to you." (John 14:18)

Some people don't have faith in anything. Some people just teeter alone into the bad places that depression can take any of us. If you are depressed, please find a positive way to deal with it. Call someone, hold on tight to someone, pray - just don't give in to it.

Anyway, my bad moment has passed. I celebrated last night by listening to some of  my favorite INXS songs. My "favorites" in anything change with my mood. Right now, this is my favorite:

R.I.P. Hutch

Peace

--Free

P.S.: If you don't understand faith, I don't either; I just have it. This is a story of a woman who seems to have & understand it.

U.S. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline:

1-800-273-8255

Save.org

Suicide Awareness Voices of Education

**Wikipedia has list or resources for those of you who live outside the USA**