Somewhere huddled in small conference rooms sitting in a circles sipping Irish tea and nervously fondling their well-guarded electronic device of choice are small groups of bloggers. Each meeting starts and ends with the Senility Prayer and each meeting includes an indepth discussion of one of the topics included in the Bloggers Anonymous 12-step program.
God grant me the senility to forget the people I have never liked, the good fortune to run into the ones I do, and the eyesight to tell the difference.
Hi, my name is Mildred Ratched and I'm a blogoholic. My addiction took root 6 years ago in Blogspot. Shortly thereafter I moved to MSN Spaces where I stayed for the next several years. Now, I'm back to Blogspot again. I've been used, abused, restricted, conflicted and just plain stifled along my journey! It's been almost 24 hours since I've blogged and I've got the shakes. I snuck into my office last night after waking from some bizarre dream with the intention of posting a blog only to find a post-it note stuck to my laptop. OMG...it was The Senility Prayer! I immediately called my sponsor and was able to get a little sleep after revealing my weakness to another human being. And to think technology used to be fun and useful! Now, I find myself daydreaming about new words and witty catch phrases. Tonight, we can work on any of these steps of your choice. Just pick your poison and run with it and remember "we are all just prisoners here of our own device." Now, let's hear from all you blog junkies stuck out here in the blogosphere!
The 12 Steps of Blogger's Anonymous:
1) We admit we are powerless over the need to blog and that our life often times has revolved around our blogs.
2) We believe that a power greater than ourselves exists, and its name is whatever website you use to host your blog.
3) We have made the decision to turn our lives and what skill we have over to the care of a word processing program, that it may help us create that which we cannot do on our own.
4) We have made and continue to make a searching and fearless inventory of other blogs to find humor, wit and wisdom wherever we can.
5) We admit that we cannot create insightful entries without the help of our life’s experiences.
6) We are entirely ready to let the blogging police try to find all inappropriate material on our blogs.
7) We humbly ask that our blogs are not deleted due to the inappropriate material contained within.
8) We have made a list of all the persons who own better blogs than we do and are willing to try and outdo them.
9) We admit our jealousy of those who create better blogs than we do and appeal to them whenever possible to show us the way to blogging glory. 10) We continue to edit our entries and promptly update to be read more often and to inspire and lure people to leave comments.
11) We crave the secrets of having a successful, well-traveled blog.
12) We have had a spiritual awakening as to why we try to lure others into this blogging lunacy and to spread the addiction to whomever we can.
Addendum: When I was going through therapy several years ago, I used to write a gratitude statement at the end of each post as a requirement from my yoyo inspector (therapist). Now, whenever I go back and read some of those gratitude statements I smile and shake my head. She was wise to have me write a gratitude statement as I used my blog as the the journal she asked me to keep as I went through therapy with her.
Gratitude statement: I am truly thankful for the ability to express myself via written words and to connect with others as a result of the things I write. This is Mildred Ratched signing off as I recite The Senility Prayer! (3 times because I'm OCD) lol
One of my favorite reading materials while in the "*library/reading room" is the Reader's Digest. This morning I found an editorial that stood out to me.
A Crash Course In Commencement Speeches
As someone who worked at a university for 20 years, I find it appalling that a celebrity should demand $100,000 to give a ten minute speech in front of a group that may never be able to pay off student loans. Also, shame on schools for paying those amounts, especially when they raise tuition every year.
-Robert Austin
Baltimore, Maryland
*bathroom
Of my three adult children, two of them are still paying off student loans. For anyone who chooses to go to college, being saddled with a mountain of debt usually comes with it unless a person comes from a wealthy family or is fortunate enough to have some other avenue of paying for tuition, books and other expenses while attending college. The days of merely working your way through college seem to have disappeared or if it does still exist people are guarding it as a state secret.
This may be getting off subject, but I think back to when my niece was looking into colleges. She applied to some of the top colleges in the country. She was accepted at Princeton and really wanted to go there, yet her school guidance counselor talked her into staying in the state of Maine and going there. WTF? She graduated with the 3rd highest GPA in the state of Maine and she didn't go to Princeton? Who does that?
Her counselor felt too many young people leave Maine and that's true because there's so little there for them after they graduate. Maine isn't a wealthy state by any means. Its nickname is "Vacationland" because for about 5 months it's absolutely perfect minus the black flies (the Maine state bird) and a few other irritants here and there. Do tourists count as an irritant? Ha! Don't ask a *Mainiac that!
*a person born in Maine
I suppose her counselor was doing what she thought was the right thing to do and looking at my niece now who has a family, yes, the counselor did the right thing because Maine is a great place to raise a family. But at the time...Princeton? Geez! So where was she talked into going? You probably wouldn't have ever heard of the college, yet it’s a very prestigious school. Bates College famous alumni include Robert Frost, Robert Kennedy, Bryant Gumbel, David Hasselhoff, Olympia Snowe, Edmund Muskie, Minoru Yamasaki (designer of the first World Trade Center) and William Henry Vanderbilt III just to name a few. The last time I checked it costs more to go to Bates than it does to go to Harvard. I guess as with anything it isn't how much it costs, it's what you do with it after you finish. My niece has a wonderful career and a wonderful family, yet she opted to stay in Maine. I applaud her for doing that.
Now, to come full circle to those celebrities who demand outrageous speaking fees at commencement ceremonies. I can't help but feel how out of touch they are with the rest of the world. Some have no idea how the common person lives or if they did start with humble beginnings, they've forgotten those roots along the way. I applaud people like Sean Penn who get in the trenches and work with the people. As of late, Penn has been giving free COVID-19 tests in the U.S. amid the COVID-19 pandemic. People like him try to help in a crisis. Look at President Carter and his wife, Rosalyn. President Carter is 95. Rosalyn is 92. Since 1984, they have partnered with Habitat for Humanity to build, repair or renovate nearly 4,300 homes for people in need across the globe.
I'm all over the place today, aren't I? I guess the old ADHD is kicking in and I can't focus. So that means I had better get dressed and go outside and get right with the birds and my plants. I've got mulch to spread and landscape timbers to put down and drill. I need to go to the nursery and see if they have their fall plants in yet. Yesterday I ordered a TON of spring bulbs that'll be here later in the fall. I have my eye on a red crepe myrtle at Lowe's and a pink hibiscus. I have just about every other color, but I don't have pink. I have a list of roses I need to order this winter. I want to order the award-winning rose for the year each one of my children were born and then I have a list of others I like. I love roses. I guess I won't have much yard left once I'm done, but that's okay. There'll be less grass to mow, but more plants to fertilize and weed. Six of one. Half a dozen of another. Work is work and off I go!
For those of you who may be on the fence about using a CPAP machine for sleep apnea, I, too struggled for an exceptionally long time knowing I needed to use my machine. It's not an easy task and I attempted it several times with no success because I looked at it as being intrusive instead of being helpful and necessary.
I was originally diagnosed with sleep apnea about 2002, but I never made myself use the CPAP I got. At that time, my insurance company didn't consider the humidifier part of the device as being necessary. Try using a CPAP without it. I would wake up after just a few hours and my nasal passage and throat felt like it was on fire. I discussed this with my doctor and the only suggestion she had was for me to coat the inside of my nose with KY jelly each night. I know it sounds gross, but I tried what the doctor suggested. I had the same reaction plus I had dried KY jelly flakes all over the inside of my nose which made me look like I had some dreadful disease. It was a wonderful picture and a joy to try to clean out each morning before work! Shortly thereafter I finally gave up trying to use the machine until about 2012 when my health was going downhill fast. My diabetes had gotten totally out of control. I was tired all the time throughout the day, I wasn't sleeping well at night and I was having trouble concentrating during the day. It was as if I was living in a fog all the time.
When I did sleep throughout the night, I would wake up struggling to breathe. Then in 2012, I received a new CPAP machine which I knew I needed to use. No more lame excuses! My latest sleep study revealed I stopped breathing 55.9 times per hour with apnea-related episodes. Wow! That meant I stopped breathing almost once every minute. That number kept resonating in my head repeatedly. My lowest oxygen level was 73%. Normal levels should be 95-100%. Anything below 90% is considered being in respiratory distress. My doctor was amazed that I hadn't had a heart attack or a stroke in my sleep. He also was amazed that I could function during the day after having been deprived of oxygen all night long night after night. Is "functioning" what this is called? If he only knew how much I was struggling just to put one foot in front of the other!
When I received my new CPAP machine, I used the machine that night and every night since then...NO MORE EXCUSES! Those stats scared me enough to make me realize that I was asking for trouble and it wasn't the kind of trouble I wanted. Yes, this CPAP is equipped with a humidifier so it works without making my nasal passages feel like they're on fire. I selected a mask that felt comfortable to me to wear. I knew that was important. This machine isn't loud so it doesn't sound like a jack hammer next to my head. When I put the mask on that first night I actually told myself OUT LOUD that I was going to wear the mask ALL night long and that I wasn't going to take it off unless I has to get up to use the bathroom. When I woke up the next morning, my mask was still on and I felt like I had accomplished an amazing feat. It wasn't long before I noticed I started feeling better. I had more energy and I wasn't tired all the time. From there on out whenever I would lay down whether it was to take a nap during the day or to watch television in the evening in my bedroom, I would put my CPAP on just in case I would fall asleep.
The moral of this story is if you're diagnosed with sleep apnea, take it seriously. Do whatever you need to do to make yourself get used to using your machine. And most important, be compliant and use your machine faithfully. Sleep apnea does kill people. Don't be stupid and be one of those people who turn into a statistic.
Yes, I have a dog that does this to me. It's such a wonderful way to wake up from a sound sleep! She usually sleeps in her dog bed, but when she's gassy she likes to sleep on the floor right next to my night stand and well, if you've ever had the pleasure of smelling a dog fart, then you can only imagine what one funneled directly into your nose while you're sound asleep would be like. I jump up using some really bad language and Libby heads upstairs quickly and then turns around at the top of the stairs and looks at me like as if to say, "you need to chill out, lady! It's only a little gas!"
Yesterday we watched Cristana Ramos, a 37 year old opera singer transform before our eyes and rock the house while she took us on a trip down that Highway To Hell. Today, we will watch Jenny Darren, a 68 year old retiree show us that age is just a number!
The birds were squawking at me as soon as I let the dogs out at 6am. They wanted to be fed. That meant I needed to go get 60lbs of bird seed out of the trunk of my car. I debated whether or not to go get dressed first because it had rained in the night and trudging through the wet grass and cleaning out the feeders would probably get messy. But I opted to stay as is and get wet. Getting wet is always fun. Right?
Part way through the task, two of my dogs wanted to go back in the house because they do not like the humidity. The other dog seems resistant to the presence of humidity and will stay outside all day with me. He's my little helper! It's a shame I can't teach him how to prune shrubbery and do other outside tasks. We have detailed conversations about the plants, the birds and other happenings in the yard. After finishing up with the birds, I decided I'm going to start working on my next rock statue. In order to do this, I need to make a trip to Lowe's to purchase a new wheel barrow. My old one has had a nervous breakdown. It's been fixed so many times, it's gotten way beyond repair and can't haul heavy rocks in it. I could carry them, but I'd rather save my back and let a wheel barrow do the work.
I went in the house to clean up a bit and to ask my son to accompany me to Lowe's. I knew which wheel barrow I wanted so the trip would be a short one. They have them lined up right outside the front of the store so all I needed to do is go inside and pay for one and a clerk will come out and unlock the chain and I can get my wheelbarrow and we can go. When we first got there, we looked at the wheel barrow I wanted and we discussed whether or not we thought it would fit in the car. We both thought it would, so off we went to purchase it. The line wasn't too brutal...everyone was wearing masks. The sun was out and Sunday looked like it was going to be a wonderful day.
I finally get up to the register, I pay for the wheel barrow, the clerk meets us outside and we can't get it in the car. Nope! It's not going to fit anyway we try it. I asked my son to go inside to see if they have one unassembled we can bring home and put together ourselves. While he's inside I'm standing there looking at the wheel barrow and this gentleman walks over to me and asks me if I need help putting the wheel barrow in my car. I look up at him and I almost fell over. There before me is this tall, handsome older man with the bluest eyes I've ever seen. I smiled at him and told him that my son and I had already tried numerous ways to get it in the car and it wouldn't fit. He asked me how far I lived from Lowe's. I told him that I only lived about 5 minutes away. He then offered the use of his truck if we trusted him. He said we could take a photo of his tag on his truck. I couldn't believe that people still helped one another out like that. He almost renewed my faith in humanity just in that small gesture of kindness.
Okay now, that I have your attention! All that really did happen except it wasn't a tall, good-looking older gentlemen who came over to me. In my dreams!!! SIGH!!! It was a couple and they were so nice. I really was amazed at their generosity. They put my wheel barrow on the back of their truck and brought it to my house. My son tried to pay them, but they refused. To pay it forward, we figured we would find some charity and donate some money to it. I think I'd like to donate to an animal charity. Maybe I'll ask my vet when I bring my Shih Tzu for blood work this week if they know of a local rescue place or something that needs a donation. I just hate giving money to places that don't use the money for the cause.
Anyway, so as soon as we get the wheel barrow unloaded, we load it up with the rocks I'm going to use for my statue and take the load to the spot in the backyard I want to build the statue. Then we go get the other load. In the process of doing this I find a two huge colonies of fire ants. I had my yard treated about 3 weeks ago for fire ants and it's supposed to be good for one year. I make a mental note to call Florida Pest Control in the morning and get them back out here. After all, the treatment was rather pricey and it's guaranteed for one year. The wheel barrow I chose was one of those wheel barrows with two wheels and the bed is made of some kind of hard durable plastic. I figured for what I would be using it for in my yard it would be fine. Oh Mildred, you need to just stop thinking and when you do think, do the complete opposite.
My son started tossing the rocks (some of them are really large) into the wheel barrow before I could tell him to take it easy that it isn't made of metal. The next thing I know the base of the wheel barrow had a large crack in it. Oops! I ended up having to call Lowe's and had to set up a date to have them come pick up this wheel barrow and have them issue me a refund, then I had to buy a new wheel barrow that is made of metal and pay a hefty delivery fee that is as much as what the wheel barrow costs. So when they come to pick up the the "old" wheel barrow, they'll bring me my new wheel barrow and all this is supposed to happen on the 30th.
Hallelujah! I'm having a Wheel Barrow Party on the 30th. I'm going to get drunk and sleep in my new wheel barrow or better yet, I'm going to get stoned and sleep in my new wheel barrow. Or maybe I'll get drunk and stoned and maybe some tall, handsome older gentleman will wheel me off somewhere...but, ONLY if he has a toolbelt and a truck and he knows how to use his tools! The S.O.B. better know how to use his tools or else he's outta here... Mildred isn't fooling around!
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!
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...
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 :)
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...
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...
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?
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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?
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!
