A NIGHT TO REMEMBER

Lynne and I stuck our thumbs out to hitch a ride home. We had a small walk-up flat on the fifth floor located on Commonwealth Avenue several buildings up from the Public Gardens in Boston. We'd been at the Sizzleboard in Kenmore Square just to hangout for a while. The first time I ever walked in the Sizzleboard and saw Panama Red and Acapulco Gold listed as two flavors on their ice cream menu I knew Boston was where I belonged. No, they didn't have marijuana in their ice cream. They just borrowed various names of marijuana to put on the menu as flavors. To say it was a popular idea was an understatement. After all Boston and vicinity is a huge college city and so was marijuana in 1971.

Ordinarily, we might walk home, but it had just started to snow. You know, it was that kind of huge, lacy snowflakes that stick to your eyelashes and the end of your nose before melting. A VW bug pulled over and we quickly got in the back. It wasn't until that moment that our real adventure of the evening began. Immediately both of us were handed a thin piece of rope and were told to pull them back and forth. Sure thing! We did as instructed and lo and behold the windshield wipers worked and kept the flourishing accumulation of snow off the windshield.

It seems we weren't in the car more than a minute before a joint was lit. The next thing I know we were pulling up in front of their place to do a little partying, but I had no idea where we were because I hadn't paid attention to where the driver had taken us.  Lynne gave me the nod to let me know that it was cool, so we all piled out of the car and went upstairs to their apartment. Their living room was all the way in the back of the building. Lynne and I settled into spots next to each other on the floor in front of a homemade chunky wooden coffee table adorned with a large bowl of Fritos corn chips and various drug paraphernalia. I had the munchies so I immediately started eating the Fritos and one guy lit a joint and started passing it around while the other guy put some music on the stereo.

Yes, I was only 15, but I was already very well-versed in drugs by that age. I knew my way around as well as someone much older than me so when I started noticing that I was much higher than I should be I got a little concerned. At first, I didn't do anything, but sit back and observe what was going on around me to see if I could make any sense out of the situation. The two guys seemed to be talking in a language I didn't understand. No, it wasn't a foreign language. It was one I'd never heard before. It was a non-sensical one. One that only they understood, but as I looked at Lynne, she didn't seem concerned at all by this so I assumed this was just me. This was just in my mind. Oh goodie! I'm fucked up and don't know why!  Then all my senses seemed to fade away into a psychedelic haze. Was I tripping? Wait a minute! All I had done was smoke a little dope. How could I be tripping? Everyone else seemed fine. This just didn't make any sense to me.

At this point I stood up and asked if I could use their bathroom. Lynne seemed to sense something was wrong so she tagged along with me. As soon as we were out of ear shot, she started quizzing me about what was going on. I'm not one who is prone to paranoia, but in this case, it started to rear its ugly head. All I could think of was getting the hell out of Dodge. I told her what was going on and that I needed to leave. NOW! She went back in and grabbed our jackets and we immediately left.

The cold winter air had a momentary sobering effect on both of us and then holy shit! We realized neither of us knew where the hell we were. Boston is a big place and generally, we knew our way around, but it was the middle of the night by then and we were both high as hell so we had to take a moment to regroup. We usually used the Prudential Building as a beacon or landmark because it was the tallest building and we always seemed to be able to see it wherever we were. But it wasn't anywhere in sight. Where the hell were we? Why hadn't we paid attention to where these guys took us?

As we walked and talked, I told Lynne how I felt and as best I could figure I was the only one of the four who ate any of the Fritos. They had to have been laced with some hallucinogenic drug. What a cheap trick to pick up two females and try to drug them. I wonder what else they planned for us that night. I'm so glad we got out of there when we did.

As we walked I didn't want to walk too close to the buildings and the alleyways because I was afraid of being grabbed so I walked close to the street and Lynne didn't want to walk close to the street because she was afraid of being grabbed by someone in a car even though there wasn't any traffic. And she wasn't high like I was. Weren't we a pair? The longer we walked the worse I got and nothing looked familiar. Lynne kept assuring me she knew where she was, but I knew she was lying to me. I knew she was just trying to make me feel better because I was right on the verge on losing it. We came upon a car repair garage named Hampden Automotive Repairs and we both stopped dead in our tracks. My eyes filled with tears as I looked at Lynne and quizzically asked her if we had walked that far. You see, Hampden is a small town next to Bangor where we are both from in Maine. How could we have walked that far? It was another holy shit moment. Bangor was about a 6 hour drive from Boston.

Lynne finally gave up and walked close to the street with me because she saw I was starting to really unravel. As we slowly trucked along a cop car pulled over and asked us if we needed a ride. Lynne and I just looked at each other for a second. I took a deep breath because I knew this wasn't the good time to get busted and sent home.  Actually, no time was the good time to get busted and sent home but I was high as hell and I really didn't want to get hassled by the man while I was high.  We both knew there was no way around not getting in the cop car, so we eased our way into the back seat expecting the interrogation to begin.  We were surprised when it didn't. When I noticed the two "cops" didn't look like cops at all, but two scruffy-looking hippies instead, I started wondering what was going on.  Undercover, perhaps?  Had two young yahoos stolen a cop car and gone on a joy ride?  Tonight, anything was possible!

When we weren't asked for identification or asked where we live, we knew something was wrong, but we just looked at it like a gift from the Bostonian gods from old. They did, however, ask what we were doing walking at that time of night. We got a lecture about it not being a good thing to do because women can get raped doing stuff like that. Of course, we made up some bullshit story about being at a friend's house and getting lost when we left. I guess that wasn't too far from the truth except they weren't friends. They were assholes!

When asked where we were going, we chimed in and both said we were going to Stanetsky Memorial Chapels. The two hippie-looking cops gave each other a weird look when we said that, but then said to us that they couldn't take us all the way there because it's in a different district, but they could drop us off at the foot of the bridge. We knew that was a weird place to go in the middle of the night or anytime for that matter because it was a funeral parlor.  Lynne explained that we had a close friend that worked there on the weekends and that he'd make sure we'd get home safely and he did exactly that, but only after being subjected to hearing us ramble on about yet another one of our BIG adventures.  Thank you, Kenny Goldstein for being a lifesaver!

THE FACE OF A KILLER

My little 12 lb. doodle (dachshund/poodle mix) is a total love bug. The first thing he does whenever anyone comes to my house is brings them one of his toys so they can play with him. He loves to play fetch. Now, if the person doesn't follow his lead then he starts coaxing the person by "talking" to them by making his cute noises until the person pays attention. Hey, wake up! You're in my house and there's certain rules one must abide by in this house and playing with the doodle is one of them. It's mandatory.

His name is B.A. which doesn't mean anything. B. A. = Be Anything, but after the other night I think it needs to stand for BADASS.  My Shih Tzu, Fenway is the Queen and the alpha dog of the house. She runs the roost.  Fenway weighs about 16 lbs. Libby is a Dandie Dinmont Terrier and she weighs about 16 lbs. Although Fenway runs the roosts, she doesn't have what I would say is an aggressive personality. She's just bossy! Libby is generally pretty laid back until she's provoked or agitated and then she becomes very aggressive. 

One of the first things a person notices when they come here is the amount of toys my dogs have, but the toys aren't for my dogs. They belong to B.A.!!! You see, if B.A. didn't have those toys to chew on, we wouldn't have a house. When he was younger, he chewed everything! And when I say everything. I mean EVERYTHING! He ate my box spring to my bed. He ate the living room carpet. He ate countless comforters on my bed. He ate eyeglasses. He ate my mother's false teeth. He ate furniture like he was a beaver. The question should be what didn't he eat?  He doesn't do that stuff now, but he has his toys to chew on and he "husks" his toys.  By husking them I mean he pulls all the stuffing and the squeakers out of them. And once he husks them we can't throw them away. So we have a toy box filled with toys in various stages of being destroyed, but to B.A. they're still great. He still drags them around like they're brand new.

One of B.A.'s duties is to protect the house and the yard and he takes that job very seriously. He has no idea that he's only a 12 pound lean mean fighting machine. Each time he goes outside he patrols the backyard and the inside of the garage. It's really funny to watch him follow the same route each time.  He goes in back of each bush and sniffs everything all over. Nothing happens in the yard that he doesn't know about. He's on top of everything! Once he killed a mole and brought it inside for us to praise him. When we tried to take it away from him he took it under the bed. Yuck! He doesn't bother the birds or squirrels and that surprises me. But I think that may be because he sees me interact with them. Libby chases the squirrels, but they're too quick for her to catch. Fenway wouldn't care if an elephant was standing in the middle of the yard, but she will bark if she hears a dog down the street barking. She wants them to know where the queen lives. I suppose in their own way they do their jobs and that's what they're supposed to do.

The other evening after dinner I took all three dogs. I go out with them even though I do have a large fenced backyard. Before we knew it Libby and B.A. had cornered a raccoon, and then B. A. got it and killed it. I tried my best to intercede and tried to get B.A. to release the raccoon, but he wouldn't let go of it. He had a death grip on it and kept shaking it. By the time he did let go, it was dead. The other racoon kept trying to crawl up my pant leg because it was terrorized. I finally got it to leave before Libby noticed it and I hope it got scared enough to not come back in the yard again.

What freaked me out was how ferocious B.A. was. He's only 12 pounds...he kills rats, he kills moles. Who knows what else he kills. I know he runs off feral cats, but I think he'd have his hands full with a feral cat if he got in a fight with one. I realized once I started feeding the birds, the birdseed would attract other creatures, but I don't want a whole zoo in my yard and I definitely don't want my dogs fighting with wild animals. Sigh! I guess I need to start paying closer attention to what's happening outside in the menagerie before I let the killer hounds outside at dusk.

And I still feel horrible about the raccoon...
I'm an animal lover
Well, I don't love rats and stuff like that, but raccoons are cute.
And I know B.A. was only doing what his instinct told him to do, but it still made me feel bad...

Is There A Contractor In The House?

I was just sitting here scanning over my adult life in respect to the serious relationships I've had and well...it didn't paint a very pretty picture. It probably most resembled a Jackson Pollack masterpiece "Male and Female."  Understand that and you might understand the jumbled mess inside my head. I can't say I've ever had a healthy, intimate relationship with the opposite sex.  Once sex got thrown into the picture all bets came off the table.  Why that is I most likely can come up with a fairly accurate answer, but at this stage in my life I'm wondering how much does it really matter. Don't we all have baggage? Some suitcases just weigh more than others.

When my last relationship ended, I put myself in what I called "time out."   I guess for most people after a break up, they need time to adjust before they get back out there and throw their line back in the water to do some fishing again, but my time out has lasted 15+ years. Oh yes, you read that right. I have been celibate for 15+ years and I'll go a step further...I haven't even been on a date in that time period. Before all of you scream "WHY?" in unison, I'll give you my five cent explanation. It's rather hard to go on a date or to meet anyone if you've become a hermit. I had a rather cozy cave.

I jokingly referred to myself as a hermit on my blog over the years, but I don't know how many people actually took me seriously or knew to what extent my being an actual hermit had become a reality.  I think I was really on the verge of developing agoraphobia. When someone once called me a troglodyte as an insult, I adopted the word because I liked it better than the word 'hermit". Hermit sounded too common and who likes being thought of as being common or ordinary...or normal? Certainly, not me!

Anyway, in January of 2019 my hermit days abruptly came to an end. A childhood friend, came for a visit and ended up moving in right next door to me. Martha (Linda) was the little red-headed girl who lived next door to me in Maine and we grew up together. We've known each other since we were 4 years old and did typical Mildred and Martha secret, naughty things growing up.  Having Martha back in my life was a much needed wake up call. It was one that I hadn't fully realized I needed until now.

Physically, I was barely living when she arrived. I couldn't stand up for more than a few minutes without the pain being too intense for me to bear.  In fact, I struggled to stand up from a sitting position and sitting was uncomfortable. Doing anything seemed like a struggle.  I had fallen down the stairs and fractured my vertebrae and the recovery was very slow.  Sometimes I wondered if I was ever going to recover. My legs and feet were swollen to the size of tree trunks, but not from the fall. I didn't find out until later that I had fluid around my heart. Before Martha moved here I went days without getting out of bed and I just didn't care about myself anymore. I had given up and no one was getting on my ass about it.  Nobody wanted to deal with the wrath of Mildred so my family just left me alone unless it dealt with my safety like when my adult children banded together and moved my bedroom downstairs after I fell. They banded together because they expected me to give them a real hard time about it, but I fooled them when I never said a word.  I knew I couldn't walk up and down the stairs and they were doing the right thing. I would have been a real bitch if I had given them a hard time about being concerned about my well-being. I'm a lot of things, but being a real bitch isn't one of them. All you assholes out there who think I'm a real bitch better keep your opinions to yourself or else Mildred will have her way with you! lol 

After Martha got here, I started doing more physical things and now I can work outside all day long in the heat and humidity of Florida like I did when I was younger. In fact, I'm in better shape now than I have been in 20 or 25 years. I've lost a ton of weight and I feel good physically and mentally most of the time.  And when I don't, I smoke some weed and then I feel better. When my back hurts, the weed comes out.  When I have trouble sleeping, you know the drill. And when I just feel like kicking back and getting stoned, well I kick back and get stoned. What can I say? I'm a hedonist!

When a person becomes a hermit they forsake their need for other people.  When I went into "time out" I went into time out all the way. I wanted to cushion myself from the world and I did a great job of it for 15+ years. Nobody came knocking until Martha rapped on my door. You see, I thought it was just going to be a visit and then she left to move to South Florida. but when she left I knew she was going to move back here even though she didn't know it at the time. It was just a feeling I had and I was okay with that feeling. It didn't put me in a panic to think about not being a hermit anymore. 

And I was right! She moved here shortly after she left for South Florida. Who wants to live in South Florida with all those people anyway? (There goes that hermit in me talking!) When the house next door to me came up for rent, Martha jumped on it and moved in. What I discovered is that I'm not a hermit after all. I enjoyed having a friend to do stuff with and even when we weren't doing anything, but goofing off doing nothing we still had a good time doing it. You know why? Because we're Mildred and Martha and Martha and Mildred, that's why! We're one hell of a team!

Unfortunately, Martha moved back to Maine about a week ago.  Sometimes things happen and make it so we have to make difficult decisions.  Doing the right thing is rarely easy.  Right now, we all live in difficult times.

I'm empty now and I'm scared. I definitely know how to be a hermit, but I don't want to be a hermit again.  Is it wrong that I want someone? That I need someone?  Oh, I know we're in a pandemic...blah, blah...BLAH and social distancing and all that hoopla and I have to be a hermit to some extent and yeah, I can do that. I'm good excellent at it, remember? I did it for a very long time! Geez! I thought something was wrong with me when I kept reading on other people's blogs about how blue they were about being locked down during the coronavirus. I was afraid to tell anyone that I was okay with it because I had been doing it for so long that it was just second nature to me. It was no big deal. But now, what?

My grand plan that Martha and I used laugh about was that when the pandemic was over and I felt I was back to my old running shape I was going to start hanging out....not in bars...fuck that! but I'd go to Lowe's or Home Depot in the Contractor's section and pick-up a contractor so I could get someone to help me to fix my house (you know we could work something out in trade...). I'd say, "Baby, show me your tool belt, your tools and your truck...and definitely your financial statement!"  He'd probably call security on me and have me kicked out of the store.  Hey, it's been awhile since I've picked someone up, but I bet I can still do it.  My daughter gets aggravated whenever we go anywhere together and men flirt with me and not with her. ha! I think it's hysterical.  My pheromones must be stronger than hers.

Anyway, I miss my Martha. I talk to my dogs. I talk to the birds and of course, Cecil. I talk to all the plants I planted in my backyard. I talk to myself. That's a trip. Damn it! I need a person. Maybe I should buy a mannequin or a blow-up doll. What do you think?  Does anyone want to volunteer to be my person?  Mildred does not bite! Much :)

My Rut Deepens

Trust me, this has nothing to do with the coronavirus. I think if it did, solving it would be simple. Everyone is blue these days, but my blue seems to be changing colors. Fuck, no! I'm not turning red! Except when I get mad and then I turn a nice bright shade of red. I just have something I need to work through and process. I'm attempting to write about it, but it's difficult. So far what I've written makes absolutely no sense. I'm sad and I don't do sad very well. I never have. Sad usually gets me in trouble. Imagine that! Mildred in trouble??? Help! Lassie go get a rope! Mildred has fallen in a well...

WHAT REVS YOUR ENGINE?

I can close my eyes and I can smell that smell. Can you? Ooooh, that smell! The smell of death surrounds me! It isn't just in the drugs and alcohol that people abuse. It's in our food. It's in our water. It's in the air we breathe and the pharmaceuticals our doctor prescribes us and deems as necessary and perfectly safe to take. It's in the cars we drive and the cellphones we use! It's in the sex we have! It's in the wars we wage! It's in the poverty and hunger all around us! It’s in our planet as it grows warmer and more polluted. It’s in the hatred and the fear we feel towards each other. It's in the politics that divide us more each day. It's everywhere! Just look around. It's in everything we see, feel, smell, taste and hear! There's no escaping it... I feel like I'm drowning!

Any insomniac, addict, mentally or emotionally disturbed person or anyone who has ever been in dire straits and is at the end of their rope with nowhere to go is well-acquainted with temptation, self-indulgence and pleasure seeking behaviors. Satan, imaginary or not, comes in many forms and touches the lives of the most desperate and the most vulnerable. We are his army, the hedonists of the world. Even when we aren't capable of actually feeling pleasure, there remains the memory of pleasure and what a driving force that can be. To love one more time...to feel the pleasure of carnal delights one more time, to experience whatever revs your engine and gets your creative juices flowing is the ultimate mind candy! SIGH!

I say it's time to dig down deep inside yourself and satisfy that wild hair that beckons you and when you do heed its call, please make sure you write about your adventure in explicit details and post photos so I can satisfy my troglodytic voyeurism. (Oh no! I think I just discovered a new psychiatric diagnosis! lol) So what really revs your engine? Be honest. To thine ownself be true... Here at Mildred's place we make no character judgments. We just live and let live! I need a little something something to put some pep in my step and I don't know quite what it is yet. Any suggestions? I NEED A SPECIAL WILD HAIR DAY!!!

Well, I'm off to the doc, maybe she'll fix me up. Ha! When has that ever happened? Hey, doc, have you got something that'll satisfy my wild hair? I guess there's a first time for everything and I shall return, but I have a feeling it won't be with a smile on my face...

Twisted and Blue

I've always thought Banyan trees look so eerie. The first time I ever saw one was at the Ringling Bayfront Gardens in Sarasota, Florida. What's the strangest looking tree you can think of?

****

Years ago I bought a print of the Blue Madonna by Carlo Dolci that was hanging in the Ringling Museum of Art. Ordinarily something like this doesn't "speak" to me, but for some reason this did...

Do you have a piece of art that appeals to you that isn't in your normal wheelhouse?

The Wetter The Better

There's a few rules in life and one of them is to never make me the bartender...NEVER!  I don't follow recipes very well. I'm a do my own thing type of person after I get the basics down. 

You see we had a rather small family gathering for my daughter's birthday and it involved strawberry daiquiris and social distancing and cupcakes that my son-in-law couldn't believe I made because they looked like they had been professionally made. Oh yeah, I'm that good when I want to be! The birthday party was great, but my "normal" evening consists of sitting in my backyard, listening to music and shooting the shit with Martha while we social distance across the chain link fence lit by tiki torches. 

After the birthday party, I made a "special" blender full of daiquiris just for Martha and me and I don't drink or I should say I may drink something maybe once a year so this was designated as "my once a year."  After four strong drinks and some tsunami strength Surfing in a Hurricane weed for medicinal purposes only (I see you rolling your eyes as you read this) I was one with the world and ready to boogaloo down Broadway in my flamingo mask, but Pensacola doesn't have a Broadway unfortunately or maybe it was a fortunate thing for the inhabitants of Northwest Florida. I've never gotten the feeling that the South has ever been quite ready for this Yankee all the years I've lived here. I've always felt like a fish out of water or a flamingo amongst a flock of geese.

Martha almost got the hose after me last night because I threatened to jump...no, not off a bridge or a building. I jumped up and down one night not long ago when I was pretty baked and I felt like dancing and it was the WRONG thing to do. Someone with as many disc/spinal problems as I have shouldn't jump...EVER! I found that out after the second or third jump. I was in so much pain I whimpered that I needed to sit down NOW and that jumping was the wrong thing to do. Enlightenment always comes quickly with pain! Martha's husband told her to get the hose if I ever tried to jump again, so she run and got the hose last night. She was ready to blast me with it. I kept telling her I was going to do it, but I was just yanking her chain. Imagine that! Me yanking someone's chain? You see, if I were her I would have soaked me just on general principles and laughed at me while I screamed and hollered as the cold water baptized me. The wetter the better I say and Martha could have put this fish back in the water where I belong!

QUARANTINED AND BEYOND

No, I'm not stranded on some tropical island! That would be nice, but I'm still here in good old Pensacola, Florida. Well, I never got my test results and I don't know who to contact to get them so I just said fuck it. Lately. I've said fuck it to lots of things. I feel fine and just chalked it up to another amazing clusterfuck. Go figure! I've just been hanging out in my backyard and doing lots of hard physical work weather permitting and when Mother Nature drives me inside I have lots of inside projects. 

I'm slowly redoing my upstairs cave, but I promise this time I won't fall downstairs and fracture a vertebrae.  Another change to my cave is that it's in a different room and it has 8 windows in it so it has plenty of wonderful natural light. I guess it really isn't much of a cave compared to my last cave that was painted a deep Bohemian red and rarely saw the light of day blinds closed and heavy drapes drawn. I look back on that rather long period of my life and I really was a hermit or a "troglodyte" as the dreaded Psychedelic Pariah used to call me. I guess none of you remember him and that's a good thing! 

Another change to my cave is that my cave now is strictly for creative use and I won't be sleeping there. Now my bedroom is downstairs. So, in my cave I'll be able to paint, write, sew, do crafts, wood burn when the kit arrives in the mail (if it ever does) and probably talk to myself and my dogs and cat, listen to music and wish the world was a better place to live and so forth and so on...

Several weeks ago I witnessed a butterfly emerge from its cocoon. I held the new butterfly in my hand before it flew away. My fence and area around it was covered with chrysalis waiting to emerge with beautiful butterflies. Other than hating fire ants, I feel like a real nature's child.  I feed the birds. I talk to the birds. I swear at the squirrels and the various insects. I talk to my flowers. My dogs started to eat the suet that I give to the birds. I swear they'll eat just about anything. I better watch out they might start flying around with the birds. I think I'd like to see that just as long as they didn't poop on me when they fly around. Martha talked about cutting down trees and the next thing she knew she had birds pooping on her. I'm thinking that they knew what she was talking about and was just giving her their opinion on the matter. 

Also on the whole bird situation...I have a ton on baby cardinals that are ravenous. I swear they can empty a birdfeeder before I walk back to my chair. I keep telling them to go get a job to pay for the bird seed! Or better yet I think mom and dad need to get a second or third job to pay for the dozens of babies I'm feeding. Does anyone know how many babies a cardinal has?

So that's about it. I have good days and bad days like everyone else.  I hope all of you are safe and well and staying sane throughout all this madness.

Quarantined Day #8

Hey how's everyone out there today? If anyone is sick, I hope you have a speedy recovery and the ones who are well or well enough and maybe are getting a little stir crazy...just go outside for awhile and soak up some sun,unless it's raining and then Cecil says stay inside and play a game of Trivia Pursuit while drinking a few simply divine cocktails. He prefers the ones with umbrellas and fruit garnishes. That'll soothe the savage beast for sure. For some odd reason a Pina Colada or a Bushwacker sounds more than simply divine to me right now. Add this to Murphy's Laws. I don't have a drop of alcohol in my house. Always a day late and a dollar short! Or is that a stitch in time saves nine? Or the early bird catches the worm? Hell, I don't know. [insert laughter here]

Do liquor stores deliver? They probably do in places like NYC and LA, but I live on the Redneck Riviera. They do things a little differently here. Maybe I can find someone with some moonshine. OMG! That made even me shake my head. Hey liquor store, I need 3 or 4 gallons of cheap rum and oh yeah, some large boxes of jell-o. I don't care what color it is as long as it isn't that blue toilet bowl cleaner looking stuff. Speaking of toilet bowls, a friend of mine from Bridgeport, Connecticut says people are tipping delivery people with rolls of toilet paper up there. I guess toilet paper around there is like gold now. Isn't that crazy? I want to dress up and go out trick or treating for toilet paper, but I can't decide what to dress up as. Any suggestions? Maybe someone will give me a Bushwacker. Oh, that sounds kind of nasty, doesn't it?

Now getting back to Trivia Pursuit...It's always good for a few laughs or some incredible arguments. And there's so many editions of Trivia Pursuit it makes my head swivel. I have several of the first editions that came out including the very first. I wish I had someone who would play a game or two with me...

Last night I had a tiki torch-fire pit experience in the backyard while listening to Pink Floyd and a few others groups while enjoying the company of Martha at the appropriate social distance (of course) with a good old chain link fence between us and of course, our collective fur babies, Fenway, Libby, B.A.,Digger and Cecil. Martha and I just kicked back and chilled out. It's nice to be able to do that because so many people don't. They don't know how to unwind and let go.

Earlier in the day I captured these pictures of The Queen. When I first came inside I sat down in "my chair." Fenway went over to the toybox and got inside it. I thought she was going to lay there and fall asleep. Instead a few seconds later she appeared in front of me with a treasure she had buried in the toybox so the other dogs wouldn't find it. She brought it over to me because she wanted me to lift my recliner up. You see, chewing is a "mama thing" and she always has to be near me when she chews on a bone. I followed her command and lifted my recliner up so Queen Fenway could lay up with her mother and chew her bone after a long day of being outside supervising. It really is a rough job being Queen.



(Absolutely no comments will be accepted about the amount of toys that would indicate any dog living under said roof is spoiled has been decreed by Queen Fenway herself.)



(Please, pick me up! You've been outside ignoring me and so I keep rooting through the leaves getting them all through my snout and tail just to annoy you, so now I'm being a pretty girl so won't you please pick me up and pet me?)

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Quarantined Day #7

I think my body may just make it through all this yardwork I'm doing. EVERYTHING pertaining to my house has been sorely neglected for so long that it makes me feel so ashamed and so sad, but everyone I say that to just looks at me like I'm crazy or thinks I'm just making an excuse for being lazy. Well, I'm neither, I care about where I live, but I simply haven't been physically able to do the work and I can't afford to hire it to be done by some else. It's a hell of a situation to be in and one I never dreamed I'd be experiencing. I also never dreamed I'd get to the point I'm at now, but I've really pushed myself and here I am and now, I have my hands full. Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed when I look around me and see all the work I have to do. I have to keep reminding myself ONE DAY AT A TIME, MILDRED! One day at a time...and then when it gets too hot (I live in Florida) move inside and start some projects in there because there's as many inside as there's outside! Lucky me! I think Cecil, the partridge and I need to go to Lowe's and start hanging out in the contractor's section and start picking up contractors! To hell with bars! I'm to old for bars and besides my tail feathers don't shake like they shook 30 years ago. But I have a flashy hammer and a cool partridge...lol

So, each day before I go outside to do hard physical work which includes cutting down trees and cutting them up, I put on my back brace because without it I wouldn't be able to do anything but sit there and look at everything that needs to be done.  A few years ago, after I fell down my stairs and fractured a vertebrae which just added to all the other things that's wrong with my back I struggled to be able to stand and walk.  In fact, I couldn't stand for more than a minute or two before I needed to sit down. It really sucked and frustrated the hell out of me and although everyone kept telling to accept my limitations, I just couldn't do that. I wouldn't that. Over time, gradually, I pushed myself to the point of being able to do things again. It took me a few years to get there, but I was determined. I didn't announce to anyone that was my goal because I knew I most likely would have been vetoed on my decision to fight through my pain, ditch pain management and all the narcotics after years and years of using them and then gradually try to get my life back. Once I accomplished that, I started working towards getting my diabetes under control which had never been under control.

Since last May I've lost about 70 pounds and my A1C is where it's supposed to be for the first time since I was diagnosed with diabetes in 2002.  The only thing that concerns me now is that the last time I went to my endocrinologist, he switched my injectable meds to something new. You see, since I had started losing weight, I hadn't had to inject any fast-acting insulin and that's something I never dreamed I would ever stop doing. I injected Tresiba (long-acting insulin) at bedtime and Victoza in the morning after checking my fasting blood sugar. So my doctor decided to start me on Soliqua which supposedly combines the two in one injection.  I thought that was great  because it was going to only be one shot a day, but like any new medication your body takes time to adjust to it and my blood sugar has crept up somewhat. It's not a giant spike, but I worked hard to get it down and well...I know the story. The drug rep walks into the doctor's office with a new drug and wants the  doctor to push it and so the doctor starts prescribing to his patients. I happened to be one of those patients. I think when I go to my primary care doctor in a few weeks, I'm going to discuss the matter and try to get back on what I was on. I don't mind two shots a day and I wasn't asked if I wanted to switch, the other doctor just switched me over to the new drug. I would go back to the endocrinologist, BUT he's harder than hell to get in to see. It's like asking for an appointment with God. I guess things could be worse...

Now, as for my results from my coronavirus testing, there still are none, but Martha told me yesterday that I was supposed to have set up some kind of account and it was explained on the paperwork they gave me. I said, "What paperwork????" Since she and I went to different testing sites I guess I went to the shit show site where they handed me a mask and stuck a swab up my nose and tickled my grey matter, but I don't remember getting any paperwork. It's all included in Murphy's Laws and those are the Laws I live by every day of my life. So Martha is going to take a picture of the paperwork and text it to me so I can see what she received so MAYBE I can go from there and find something out soon.

Quarantined Day #6

No results yet...

Quarantined Day #5

No results yet! Martha got her results and thank goodness they were negative.  I'm sure mine will be coming along soon. We were tested at different sites. Remember her site hunted for her G-spot whereas mine went so far up my nose it tickled my tonsils then they slapped my ass and sent me on my way to be happily quarantined so I'm sure that has some effect on the delay in getting my results. I feel fine, but waiting to be told that I'm fine is difficult. I've been staying busy with outside projects mostly. The other day I put fire ant bait out because the fire ants are trying to take over my yard and one of my little dogs keeps getting bit by them. If you never have had the pleasure of meeting a fire ant, you're lucky. They're truly miserable little creatures and the bait didn't seem to work, so today I dumped some gasoline on them...take that you little bastards! Bite my baby again and I'll light a match next time and set the whole yard on fire. ooops! I hate when that happens!

Today, I got a little sidetracked with talking and chatting and texting with old friends. I think that type of interaction is more important than me getting out in my backyard and cutting down a tree or planting something here and there. The first person I interacted with was an old blogging buddy from my days back when MSN Spaces first opened their doors in 2004. We chatted for quite awhile and it was good catching up with her. I was glad to find out that she's still writing and that she's doing well. My second friend I chatted with was an old neighborhood friend from back in the day when Mildred was but a twig on the tree of life. Again, we caught up and all is well on the home front. The last person I started texting with was an old friend from my Kinsman Hall days... good old "Doctor Detroit".  He lives next-door to the virulent cesspool known as New York. I just wanted to make sure he was okay and I ended up talking to him for hours and hours and hours. And yes, we talked about important stuff like partridges in pear trees and child birth and conspiracy theories. 

In between chats and conversations and texts I managed to drop a tree. Imagine that! When I got a good look at the wall behind the tree it screamed PAINT A MURAL ON ME! So, I decided to paint a mural on that wall. Now, all I have to do is decide what to paint. I believe it HAS to be something to do with a partridge in a pear tree, but that's always subject to change. I'll mull it over and post a picture of the finished product in a decade or two. Right now, I'm going to bed. I'm really tired. I was really tired last night, also. In fact, I went to bed around 9 and I never do that. I must be getting old or something. I guess it happens to the best of us.

Quarantined Day #4

Somehow I get the feeling that I'll be waiting a little bit longer than 4 or 5 days to get my results back and then from what I've been hearing on the news not all tests are reliable. Just another thing that isn't Trump's fault, of course! He does no wrong! All I know is that I feel fine today and I'll take it one day at a time if I have to. I'm cool with that. So how are all of  you coping with this shit show?

Last night I did a grocery order (note to self - don't make a grocery order again while you're stoned.) Naturally, they were still out of a lot of stuff, but I had to opt to have it delivered since still I'm quarantined.  I think I'm beginning to know what a leper felt like.

I went outside today with good intentions of taking down the two small trees that need to come down so my pear tree will grow fully in all directions. Right now it leans one way because it get practically no sun in one direction. Besides being lop-sided it also needs a partridge because it's a pear tree. You don't know how many stores I've been in around Christmas thinking I'd find a partridge...just one partridge....a small partridge, so I can put it in my pear tree, but no! So tell me why there's a dumb Christmas song about a partridge in a pear tree if you can't find a partridge anywhere at Christmastime? You can find doves. You can find swans. You can find ducks. You can find cardinals. You can find owls. You can find any other kind of bird at Christmas, but you can't find one of the birds mentioned in the 12 days of Christmas. And when I ask a sales rep for a partridge they look at me like I'm asking her to perform a sex act with a French hen. Oh la la!

So instead of taking down two small trees, I took a picture of a tree about 50 feet away from where I was standing.  I'm easily distracted, aren't I? Just think about all the homes that this one tree provides. It's like Avatar without big blue creatures running around unless they run around at night. Hey, maybe that's what my dogs bark at and it's not at the squirrels after all. This tree is in Mad Mad Martha and her Digging Dog, Digger's yard next-door to me...shhhhhhhhh don't tell her I took the picture or she might hex me and make my pear tree grow funny or something :) Whoops, I guess that already happened. I need to learn to behave myself...maybe in my next lifetime??

The other picture is of my finger because it hurts and I really need someone to say "oh, poor baby"... no really, it's been swollen for days. Both joints are sore and when I put the coffee table together yesterday I said lots of bad language. Autoimmune disorders are hard. Especially ones that doctors leave undiagnosed. Oh well! I guess it could be worse. Gripping the screwdriver was a challenge, but I mastered the challenge because I'm a tough Maine woman! We're made of hardy stock.

I made my mother laugh when I purposely said things her father/ my grandfather used to say while I assembled the coffee table like..."you, son of a whore." That was always one of his favorite sayings and believe it or not when you cuss at a stuck wood screw that won't go in, I don't know what it is about it, but all of a sudden it breaks free and the screw screws right in after it's properly cussed at a few times. Okay, that's my lesson on fixing stuff today. Just remember, Mildred says if you're having a difficult time with something, a little colorful language will go a long way to remedy the situation.

Quarantined Day #3

Old hippie with a bandana

This is a picture of me taking a break from doing some yardwork earlier today when Martha presented me with a gorgeous bee she had made on her Cricut machine. I know you probably can't see all the different layers in it, but it has several. She made it for me so I can be Queen Bee while I'm quarantined. Doesn't she know I'm Queen Bee everyday... 365 days of each year? She's only known me since she was four years old! And let's see, we're how old now? What's up with that? Do you think I should break it to her now? Gently due to our advanced age? Or should I deliver it with a good noogie on top of the head? Personally, I'm leaning towards the noogie. All this coronavirus stuff has gotten me so frustrated. That's all I've got, folks so it's the Queen Bee buzzzzzzing off until tomorrow. As always stay safe...

Quarantined Day #2

 All is well on the good ship SS Quarantine in sunny Pensacola, Florida.  I got up before sunrise so I could go sit out back and watch and listen to the birds. Naturally, I forgot my phone and/or my camera or else I could have gotten some wonderful pictures. The birds are starting to let me get closer and closer to them. Each day I move my chair a little closer. Tomorrow, we'll see what happens. With my luck lately, the heavens will probably open up and one of Florida's famous torrential downpours will happen just when I sit down and get comfortable. Oh well, at least the flowers and trees and lawns and such will be happy and there's always another day.

I guess that's what I've learned through this whole ordeal and that's that there's always another day to get stuff done. People put too much stuff on their plate and stress themselves out about it. People, you need to stop it! Be kind to yourselves! Be kind to those around you! Enjoy your families and your time together. Find a reason to smile. Find a reason to laugh. Go get some fresh air even if it's only in your backyard. Sit down and relax and just breathe for awhile. For some people they never just breathe. They stay wound tighter than a top and those type of people are very hard to be around. Holy Hell! Do they even have a clue that it's like scaping a blackboard to be around them? I don't think they know

that or maybe they do know it and they don't care that they make people uncomfortable to be around them. Wow! That's scary because if they don't care that means they're real heavy duty grade A assholes and let's face it, we all know plenty of Type A summa cum laude assholes who are control freaks. Okay, Type A's,  you aren't magically excluded from this so you need to chill out and binge watch Northern Exposure (Four Seasons) or something. I would have to say Chris Stevens and I have the same philosophy in life. Imagine that! How many of you ever watched Northern Exposure or even remember it? OMG! Please, don't everyone say they loved Gilligan's Island, but hated Northern Exposure or better yet say WTF is Northern Exposure? Don't make me have to go chill out in the backyard and pump up the music! I hate when that happens!

P.S. The Blue Angels are practicing right now and so we're getting a free air show today.