Today I am thankful that a blast from the past ex-boyfriend is no longer dying in my dreams.
Nope -
this is a good thing.
For the past week or so,
I've been dreaming that I get impaled in my car and die when first responders dry to get me out.
To be sure,
that is a far better thing to dream about than another human being dying.
Funny thing, in the dreams, I'm wasting my last breath screaming at the other driver for being a moron.
Wow....road raging until the day I die.
Boy - my dream self sure likes to lay the guilt thick, doesn't she?
Oooh.....
Well, at least I'm not cursing the poor soul.
*****
The dreams are possibly indicative of my anxiety about teaching three kids how to drive.
They've inspired me to control what I can control.
I wear my seatbelt now.
Just in case -
I'll wear clean underwear
(although I'm not sure it'll matter if I scare myself),
bring my driver's license with me
(so the paramedics can identify my body because I think that's why driver's license photos are made to look so bad - so paramedics know what we look like after we kick the bucket),
keep my phone next to me for any final goodbyes
(and give my loved ones stuff to talk about in therapy so a colleague can make some money),
and
look presentable when I go out so the undertaker will know what I look like-,
(so they know people are used to me in makeup that doesn't match my skin).
Just teasing.
Love ya,
S.
If these by chance are premonitions -
I want my basses to go to my buddy Sean -
or maybe my niece (she's a great bass player),
or my old friend Galan.
Hell, they can each pick one.
The guitars can go to my granddaughter.
Don't know any other sax players, though - hmmm.....maybe I best fix 'em up so they can go to a public school in good working order. I should always keep the pads in good order anyway.
Who cares about my house and all that equity? Someone could buy a heck of a lot of guitars with all that equity.
The sale of my car could fund a set of strings. That sucker is older than my kiddos but it still runs like a champ.
It's funny what I value compared to what my kids will value.
Guess, I should put together a will, eh?
I'm a geezette. I guess it's time for a will anyway.
Actually, I think I found my love. His name is Charlie.
Could it be that I need a new love? Maybe its time for a Steinberger named Jared.
So today I'm thankful for knee jerk reactions; you know, those tiny subconscious reactions that keep us from dying.
I did stupid stuff that could have caused me to bite the dust a couple of times today
It was weird.
I'm not feeling very well. It's hard for me to breathe.
This morning, I felt sick to my stomach.
Now, because I run into a large number of hungry, homeless folks...
I always carry water and protein bars on my person.
I don't eat the protein bars anymore due to the fat content.
I just give them out to hungry folks.
Needless to say, there are stashes of food and water in both of the offices in which I see clients.
Yep, my recording studio is now my Covid office for teletherapy appointments. I hate working from home. I'd rather work from one of my offices -but- I have crappy internet in the Centennial office and they kick me out of the other one in at 3:00 p.m.
So, if someone wants to do a telehealth visit with me after 3:00, it has to be in the recording studio. I don't keep food there because I'd just stuff my face with it.
Anyway,
I always buy the healthy bars with the most protein in it. Since I never plan on eating it, I don't look at the ingredients. I do buy several different kinds and put them in a tray on one of my bookshelves (or cabinet, depending on the location).
Today, I was hungry and sick. I grabbed what was supposedly a blueberry almond protein bar from Nature Valley and took a bite before promptly spitting it out
It was too late....
my throat started to swell....
and I scratched my arms, my neck and my torso so much
that a patient asked if I was okay.
Of course, being the lying wimp I am because I didn't want him to worry....I said, "I'm fine."
I think he knew better.
He offered to reschedule for tomorrow.
Upon walking him to the elevators, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirrored surface.
Yeah - I wasn't alright.
(Here is a life lesson: Never lie to people recovering from addiction, they'll notice - and they are often too kind to say anything. Most people I've met in this realm worry so much about other people, their needs go unmet. I wonder if the stigma would be lessened if the truth about this population would be more universally known.)
You probably guessed it, that blueberry almond protein bar had peanuts in it.
That was at 7:00 this morning. I'm still having trouble breathing.
Tomorrow, I'm packing Benadryl.
Tonight, I'll find a way to bathe in it.
*****
As if that is not enough,
I got lost on my way home.
I'm probably the only Denver native who gets lost 15 minutes from her house trying to avoid traffic jams.
There was a thought that I needed to get a white board and paper for one of the offices, so I pulled off into a Walmart with a lower level parking garage.
I get out of the car, struggling with my stupid cast. I hobble over to the elevators to learn that they are broken.
At this point, I wind up hopping up two flights of stairs to get to the main level.
BIG MISTAKE!
I didn't buy very much -
just a stash of candles,
some paper,
a small clock for the office,
two inspirational signs,
a new ankle brace because mine is starting to wear out,
some ibuprofen (for my swollen ankle),
and Benadryl (for encounters with peanuts),
fake pizza (with a cauliflower crust) for me,
real pizza and breadsticks for the teenagers,
and some water for the patients.
After paying for everything,
I learn that Denver has instituted a .10 cent tax on plastic bags
That's what the receipt says....a TAX...which is ILLEGAL in Colorado as lawmakers cannot institute a tax without a vote of the people. Stores are not supposed to charge for bags when people purchase medications. I think the spirit of the crappy law would make it illegal to charge for bags carrying medical supplies. I'll double check that one.
My ten cent plastic shitty bag broke before I left the check out lane.
I take my sweater off and wrap everything up in my sweater.
Yeah, only this weirdo wears a sweater on July 7 in Denver.
I'm trying to walk down the two flights of stairs with my stuff in hand.
I FALL!!!!
Miraculously, I caught myself quickly before I hit the bottom. Somehow my injured ankle didn't get twisted. Both my knees, my hips and my arms hurt, though.
Best of all...
NO ONE SAW ME!
Man, if I had fallen to the point of being bedridden, guess who would have fun putting together a ballot initiative to mess with an illegal tax?
I've got some investigating to do.
Yeah, I know Colorado lawmakers are calling it a fee - but - uh, that's not what businesses are calling it.
Too bad the political establishment railroaded Douglas Bruce. He would know exactly what to do.
The problem with knocking down one man is that ten other foes will replace him.
Lawmakers will soon reap what they sow.
I can't imagine what Denver is going to do when their sales tax revenue starts to dwindle. Other counties are going to take their time instituting this tax, so people who can drive will wind up driving to the next jurisdiction to make taxable purchases. Like I predicted nearly twelve years ago when the Democrats first started this shit, the only people stuck are elderly folks and impoverished people who cannot drive. They are just paying another regressive tax.
I kinda wonder who the fabric bag manufacturer is that is pushing these laws.
Come one....it's not about reducing waste because it's just going to lead to more online ordering and boxes. It's a way for someone to make money. We just don't know who that someone is - yet.
Today I am thankful for the realization that I'm slacking off.
I've been busy cleaning up my life and habitat.
Maybe I'm focusing on the wrong things.
Not ONE of my friends has received the extremist Facebook warning after leaving a comment for me.
I don't get one from any of them.
Crap - I'm upset!
I'm a libertarian,
gun nut,
pagan who worships Ares,
even a hypnotist.
I've been told that I'm on a government watch list.
I'm proud of my obnoxiousness.
I even spent yesterday in Wyoming watching fireworks and getting pro-gun bumper stickers, saddle blankets, and all sorts of stuff to remind me of my western upbringing.
I don't feel like an extremist in Cheyenne.
I'm only an extremist in Denver.
Do you know why?
The definition of extremist has been morphed. It now means 'any person who disagrees with the majority group in power.'
Since communist-type liberals have taken over the capitol in Colorado, I'm an extremist.
It won't last. Political trends change with the tides. Now, the socialists hate people like me.
Tomorrow, the conservative peeping-Toms will hate me.
Such is the life of a libertarian.
Besides, I think many politicians hate me because I know they created this housing crisis that had left scores homeless.
They don't want to look at how their housing codes led to this mess.
It's so much easier to blame homeless folks.
Right now, I'm busying myself trying to get them off the street. I can only do one person at a time.
The government can churn out poverty at an exponential rate.
It's a losing battle.
When people ask why, all I can think about is the Starfish story.
'
But still
I'm a little upset.
Facebook....
[sniffle]
hurt my feelings.
If you know me, one of my favorite sayings is
'there is no such thing as failure, only feedback.'
In its own sick way, I guess one could say that Facebook is inspiring my extremism - and possibly the extremism of countless others,
Today I'm thankful that I have my very first Friday night free in many years. I chose to spend it with my first love - bass guitars..
Someone stepped on my Arcadia CD.
My kids must have gotten sick of listening to it.
I had nothing to listen to (without YouTube Ads). I wore out that cassette years ago.
I resemble Lady Ice.
Maybe I wasn't always that way.....
Man -
I had to dig out my old music
I listened to an old '80s mixtape. There was a lot of Jeffrey Osborne on it, some Luther Vandross, a bit of Klymaxx, Alexander O'Neal, Chaka Khan, and Rufus, Freddie Jackson, Prince....sigh.....
Oh my.....
no wonder I scared off the 80's boyfriend.
I probably scorched the poor guy.
Maybe that's what the nightmares are about....guilt over being a pervert and condemning a nice Christian boy to his nightmarish version of the underworld in the afterlife.
I don't know.
If I knew, the nightmares would stop.
*****
As a single mom, I work too much.
Now, I have a job with normal-ish hours and a livable wage, most of my weekends are free.
If I could walk, I'd spend Friday nights at the local art fair - but
I cannot.
So, I stayed home and busied myself the only way I knew how.
At some point in the evening, I decided to work out because when I don't exercise I feel blah....
Now, I don't feel blah - I feel like the doctors were right when they diagnosed me with fibromyalgia back in '98.
I'm writing for a purpose -
DON'T WORK OUT YOUR LEGS WITH A FRACTURED ANKLE.
Stay off the elliptical, don't mess with the home gym and, for the love of your Diety, stay off of the Hallway Horse (don't know what it's really called but one of the guys at the city called it a "hallway horse" but I think it is some sort of a cross-trainer that works the abs, arms, and legs...I got it one year for Christmas way back in the 90's when my sister was making fun of my weight).
At least I knew to stay off of my exercise bike - lol!
Between that and slappin' Charlie - my right wrist and elbow hurt. So do both of my knees and my swollen ankle.
It's Ibuprofen city for me today.
(Maybe I've gotta work on that slappin' technique or stay off the Hallway Horse....never hurt like this before....hmmmm)
The kids want me to take them hiking up in the hills for the next three days.
This is gonna get interesting.
Um - if you see a chunky redheaded lady hanging out in the parking lot of a Colorado National Park wearing a brace on her left leg...
