One Year

Holy hell y’all, I’ve been a blogger for a whole year as of today, November 2.  In my highly ADHD world, that’s a freaking miracle. I get bored easily. I stop, start, redirect and lose direction on every project I attempt. I cannot tell you how many diets, workout programs, books, craft projects, etc. I have started, stopped and eventually finish over the years. That is my one good trait in all this – I finish things.  Granted, it may take me a year to finish a half done project but I ALWAYS finish what I start.

I’m actually really glad this milestone came today as I don’t really have an interesting topic for this week.  I’m still desperately trying to stay away from politics. Although, that is getting harder and harder. I had a few really good bits of inspiration strike this past week but I forgot to write them down. So, that means they are as good as gone, never to return again. Again, good ole ADHD strikes again.  For those who think I am making fun of people with ADHD let me assure you I am “eat up with it” as the old saying goes.  I have some rather unhealthy coping mechanisms as well as some rather good ones and a prescription for medicine I never take because I don’t like how I feel when it wears off.  Lists are my friends and I write down or make notes on everything. Because of these lists, people seem to have the impression I am way more organized than I am and are always a little astounded when I drop the ball on something – or maybe it’s just my family that acts astounded when I drop the ball.

Finally, and completely unrelated because hey it’s ADHD on display here today – do you ever wonder if God is up there saying well they sure fucked up this time. I guess I’m gonna have to come down there sooner or later. Maybe it’s just me.  That is as close as I’m getting to politics right now.

P.S. I nearly forgot – Thank you, friends and complete strangers, for coming along with me on this pipe dream crazy ride for the last year. I promise to continue to voice my highly inappropriate opinionated thoughts and say y’all and hopefully, you’ll continue to read this drivel. Seriously, though, thank you.

Musing, Random

Always Listening

I’m writing this post while standing in line waiting to vote because inspiration struck.  I am absolutely astounded at the number of people at the polls for early voting.  You’d think this was another presidential election.  It’s insane.  There must be at least 75 people in this line and it’s not even lunchtime.  The next bit of inspiration comes from the people waiting in line with me.  If there’s one thing I love to do in a crowd like this it’s people watch and eavesdrop.

I adore eavesdropping.  I’m pretty sure this passion started in my formative years being raised in a household full of adults and no other children. I was forever being told to “hush, the adults are talking” and “children are seen and not heard”. The only other thing to do when you can’t get a word in edgewise is to listen or watch the paint peel. The former is a lot more fun than the later. It’s interesting to hear what others have to say especially when they think no one is listening. I ALWAYS listen and there is plenty to be heard.

The biggest offenders are millennial aged women and old people. The next runners up are mothers of young children and middle aged men.  Those last two groups love to have conversations on the phone while standing in line or walking around the store.  I have actually heard one middle aged dude make some hanky panky plans for later while in the shampoo aisle at Target.  Nothing every shocks me but I’m always a little amazed at the types of conversations people will have in public.  I can’t quite understand their reasoning.  Do they think that just because they aren’t near someone they know that it’s safe to talk about all manner of personal issues like the neighbor’s cancer, your child’s bout with lice or your ailing parents’ incontinence issues?

I keep thinking to myself one day just for kicks I will call someone out for the very loud, personal conversation they are having in public. But, doesn’t that make me just as guilty for listening?  Ultimately I just keep my mouth shut.  I have to hand it to some of these people, they sure do provide a lot of inspiration for this blog and serve as a catalyst for thinking.  Maybe these dirty laundry airing folk are a gift from the universe.  The universe’s way of saying, “I know your life is shit but at least it’s not that bad. Listen to what those people are saying about that poor sap.”  I think I’ll just count my blessings.

P.S. –  If anyone is interested, today’s offenders were a couple of old ladies.  They were talking about all their friend’s ailments in great detail.  Dementia, hemorrhoids and heart disease.  You can’t make this stuff up people.

P.P.S. – If the government needs more people to listen in to conversations, I’m your girl. Just call me Alexa or Siri.  I’ll even respond to Hey Google.


Fall Funk

water rain wet drops

Y’all, I’m not gonna lie. I’m having a super hard time coming up with inspiration for the blog the last couple of weeks.  I have had a serious case of the “blahs” and I’m just not feeling it.  I wouldn’t call it depression.  It’s more like a funk.  I have no doubt the weather has something to do with it. This September and now October has been the wettest on record for Texas and we’ve also experienced record cold.  Frankly, we are having January for Fall.  It’s so strange to see green leaves on trees and yet its 48 degrees outside.  I know our plight is nothing compared to what the Florida Panhandle and coastal North Carolina are dealing with.  I have close friends in both places dealing with the aftermath and it’s horrible. I’m just not mentally prepared for the cold and rain – not yet.

Over the years, I’ve discovered I’m very affected by the weather.  That sounds like such an old person thing to say.  When I re-read that sentence I immediately hear the old folks of my youth bitching about their bursitis acting up and how their arthritis is twinging which means rain is coming.  See what I mean? It’s an old person sentence. Young people don’t give two shits about the weather and yet I do. Full disclosure, I also watch the 10 p.m. news. Yep, that’s also an old person move and yet I can’t help myself. I know I can get news from the internet. I usually do but I love the local tv news.  Does this love of talking about the weather and watching the local news make me an old soul or just an old person in training?

Back to this weather, I know I’m not the only one completely over it.  My kids are dying to get out and really enjoy the outdoors as is my dog.  While we’re at it, let’s talk about how this weather is affecting everyone. This stupid weather is making people drive even dumber than they already do.  There are wrecks all over town and we have streets actually falling apart because of all the water.  This stupid weather has made the school carpool lane enough to make you want to commit murder or at least yell obscenities out your window at a few people. This stupid weather has made it impossible for me to fully decorate my yard for Halloween. Speaking of Halloween, this crap better clear up for the big night. There’s nothing worse than slogging through the rain or answering the door when it’s pouring down. Don’t give me that ‘just set a bowl of candy out on the doorstep” crap. You know as well as I do some greedy kid is just going to take it all and not the three piece max like your cute little Pinterest sign says.

P.S. – If you’re reading this and you have Twitter, do you think we can get #Thisstupidweather to trend?  Is that even a thing anymore?

P.P.S. – Y’all, I’m serious, I need some inspiration. Everything I can think of is political or bitching about something. I’m striving for lighthearted. With midterm elections looming, I don’t want to go political. It’s just too negative and anything I write will be like preaching to a choir or teaching a pig to sing – both are fruitless.  So, I welcome your ideas.



Just Stuff

img_1781Why are we as humans so hung up on stuff? Why do we get sentimental over inanimate objects – things that can neither truly receive or give love? Why do we attach human emotions to those objects? Yeah, I came out of the gate swinging with some big heavy questions didn’t I? The reason for all this deep thought and questioning comes from a recent experience with a loveseat.

Like most newlyweds, my hubs and I had a lot of hand-me-down furniture in the first couple of years we were married.  A couple of pieces included a living room set that belonged to my parents. It was a horrible, cigarette smoke smelling, early 90s Williamsburg blue plaid that fit perfectly with my Mother’s Country/Folk art motif. In other words, it was awful even with a cover over it.  After a couple of years of marriage, we went to Bassett Furniture and bought our own set which matched our person style – very traditional.  The hubs bitched the entire time we were picking out fabrics and signing contracts about how much it was costing us. In truth, compared to our annual salary, we were spending a crazy amount of money for this furniture.  He even threw down the gauntlet by stating, “This furniture better last 20 years like my parent’s sofa. If it doesn’t then it’s overpriced crap.”  I rolled my eyes and basically told him this furniture won’t last that long. It can’t because new furniture isn’t made to last.

That set, purchased in 1998, has since been put through the wringer.  It has seen multiple moves, pets, children and more spills than I can count.  A few pieces have been replaced over the years with cheap pieces that only lasted a year or two, but the loveseat remained.  Make no mistake, this piece is not in good shape.  The seat cushions are threadbare on both sides. The back cushions have come unsewn from the back of the couch and just the other day I noticed the arm fabric is coming unstitched from the frame.  The springs are totally shot and if you lift up the cushions you’ll find a board so that when you sit your butt doesn’t hit the floor. It’s an eyesore. And, yet, I can’t manage to part with it. Much like the van from a few months ago, this loveseat represents so much more than a place to sit and watch tv.  It’s one of the first grown-up purchases the hubs and I made as a couple. It’s the place we watched countless family movies.  It’s the place where we cuddled with the kids when they were small and sometimes now when they let us.  It’s my dog’s favorite bed even though I know we shouldn’t allow him on the furniture.  It’s been part of a pillow fort and an occasional bed.  Ironically, the loveseat technically lasted 20 years just like my Mother in Law’s old couch. It has been well loved. And, yes, the photo for this blog is a picture of the 20 year old loveseat.

As one can imagine, it was very nervous when we entered a Basset store a few weeks ago.  I knew it was time. We had to do something. I’ve seen nicer furniture in frat houses compared to what we currently have.  We picked out a lovely couch, loveseat, and chair.  The set is due to be delivered at the end of this week or first of next. Once again our living room will look like grownups actually live here instead of broke college kids. But, I’m dreading hauling that old loveseat down to the curb. Even though I know it’s ‘just stuff’ that holds no real value its the memories with that ‘stuff’ that gets me every time. I guess I’m just too sentimental for my own good when it comes to certain ‘stuff’.

Musing, Rants

Self Help

imagesI like to listen to books on audio and podcasts while I workout and do mundane chores.  It helps pass the time and I generally gain some knowledge or it gets the gears turning in my head and thus inspires a blog.  Here lately, I’ve noticed many of the podcasts I’m listening to have a self-help quotient to them.  I don’t think they are aiming to do that, I think it just happens organically.  Now that I think of it, I’ve noticed a bump in the self-help phenomenon everywhere – Facebook posts, Youtube channels, even just text conversations with friends about the latest self-help book.  It’s worse than New Year’s resolutions. It seems everyone is on a kick to make themselves into a better version of themselves.

I have nothing against bettering oneself.  One must do a certain amount of bettering oneself just to sustain – like eating right and getting enough sleep and exercise.  But, as of late, it seems like nothing is good enough.  It almost seems like we are encouraged to find something wrong and fix it.  This isn’t just our looks – that has been going on for generations. I see it more and more with personality traits and behavior.  There seems to be a desire to slap a label on everything and everybody and then once the problem is labeled it must be addressed.

For example, if someone had demanding parents which turned that person into a super overachiever that person is them somehow flawed. When did being a Type A perfectionist become flawed and how is that a problem?  Let’s say a person happens to be the last born in the family and a natural entertainer.  Why is it now a bad thing to be a natural born entertainer or a pleaser or a fixer?  One podcast I listen to is a husband and wife team. The husband in this duo has a medical condition – ADHD.  I love listening to him because I also have ADHD. It’s like I’m listening to myself only with a deep voice. The duo recently had some family therapist on the show telling the man how despite years of learning coping mechanisms so that he can better function in the “normal non ADHD world” he is still broken and he needs to change.  It was taking every ounce of self-control I had not to start yelling out loud back to the podcast.  Why does he need to change?  I understand how hard it is to keep one’s shit together with ADHD. I understand how life with a perfectionist can be hard to live with.  I get that being around the entertainer can be exhausting for those who just want to chill. But, having those traits do not make a person broken or in need of change.  If a person is happy with themselves and a functioning member of society why do they need to change in order to make others happy?  Where would our world be without the innovators, the free thinkers, and the overachievers? In today’s spirit of inclusion, why can’t we embrace that some people have certain strengths and weaknesses that others don’t possess? I can’t help but wonder if this is the modern version of the search for the meaning of life or is this our way of evolving?  Are we so interested in making everyone the same that if you aren’t the same you must be broken?

Photo Credit: Lifted off the internet. No copyright infringement intended. Blood/turnip. I’m broke and do this for free. Don’t sue me just ask me to take it down if it’s yours.



Man Down

img_1750I’ve found one of the shittiest parts of getting older is watching the heroes and icons of your childhood get older and subsequently die.  Much like half of Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, I just read where Burt Reynolds has passed away. Two of my earliest childhood memories involves Burt Reynolds.

The first memory is sort of foggy. I remember my Mother talking about seeing Burt while he filmed a scene from a movie across the street from her work in Nashville, TN. If I’m not mistaken, the movie was W.W. and the Dixie Dancekings. She went on and on about how handsome he was.

The other memory is crystal clear.  My Mother took me with her to see Smokey and the Bandit at the local movie theater.  It was a night time showing. I was about three years old and it was way past my bedtime. In fact, I think I fell asleep shortly after this incident, but I digress.  It was during intermission. Yes, they still had them back then. And, we were standing in line for the ladies room. All of these women in line were going on and on about how good looking Burt was. I mean just really oohing and ahhing.  My Mother pipes up with, “Can you believe he wears a rug?”  Well, I immediately want to know what a rug is so I start asking, “Momma, what’s a rug.”  And. I. Won’t. Shut. Up. Of course, my mother thinks it’s a good idea to ignore her inquisitive child. I’m pretty sure that was a bad move on her part considering I wouldn’t stop asking.  After 30 seconds or maybe 5 minutes of me asking, “Momma, what’s a rug?”, she finally yells, “It’s a toupee.  A man wig.”  I remember thinking that was the stupidest thing I had ever heard. And, then I couldn’t stop envisioning him taking off said wig and putting it on one of those little white styrofoam heads.  It still boggles the mind.  The funniest part of the whole thing is that Burt admitted to the toupee.  God bless him.  He was real about being vain and a skirt chaser and a bit of an asshole.  And yet, the people from that era still loved him despite his flaws.

I think I will pop in Smokey and the Bandit tonight after dinner.  My oldest loves the movie as much as I do.  I waited until he was older than three to let him watch it.   And, just like my Mother, I’ve informed my kids that Burt is wearing a “rug”.

Photo Credit: I totally lifted this photo off of Facebook. Everyone I know has this photo on their page right now. I don’t know why every news outlet picked it to attached to their story but whatever.  No copyright infringement. I’m not making any money off this thing. Blood. Turnip. I’m broke. If you took it and you want me to take it down let me know.


Beware of Old Ladies

28911a13b78de54a8c8c2bc3f32fb245I don’t plan to get old. I’m fighting it pretty much kicking and screaming. In all seriousness, longevity genes do not run in my family. My Mother was 45 when she died and her Father was 55 when he died. Although I know they had risk factors I don’t have, it’s still unnerving to look at how old they were and realize how old I am and think, ‘Damn, I may only have a few good years left.’ It is that thought that makes me fight getting old. It also helps that I’m a big kid in an adult human suit.

In contemplating old age, I have made a bucket list.  I also have a mental list of things I have to start doing should I make it to 80. For example, if I make it to 80, I’m going to take up smoking – bonus points if they’ve outlawed cigarettes by then.  I plan to be very ostentatious and obnoxious about it. I’m gonna get me one of those long cigarette holders like Morticia Addams.  I’m going to wave it around and gesture with it. I’ll leave my ashes everywhere and not clean up after myself.  I’ll even light up in places where you’re not allowed to smoke. What are they going to do to me for breaking the rules?  Kick me out?  Bodily throw an 80 year old lady out of a place of business?  It will be awesome.  I can’t wait.  I’ll probably take up skydiving as well. I’ve got big plans.  However, I know I can’t be the only person who feels like getting old might be a good time to thumb my nose at the universe.

So, when I get the following text from one of my besties I knew two things – my spirit animal exists and I am not the only person in the universe that has weird things happening to them.

Friend: I’m at JC Penney digging through the clearance racks when I notice I’m blocking a little old lady (like 80+) looking at the clothes. So, I say, “I’m sorry. Let me get out of your way.”

Old Lady: “Oh, it’s alright, sweetheart. I’m just over here shoplifting.”

My friend: Smile and a nervous laugh

Old Lady: “I’m telling ya they never suspect a sweet old lady and at my age, I gotta keep it interesting.”

My friend was stunned.  I was in awe.  How fantastic is that?  While I don’t want to become a felon, I admire that old lady’s spunk.  She probably really does feel like she only has a few years left in her so why not burn that candle.  I’m with her.  At that age, why not, put me in jail at least I get three meals a day I don’t have to cook and I get medical care.  Let my kids sort out my crap and claim the body when I die. It’s kinda brilliant. You wanta know what else is crazy?  This is not unheard of thinking.  Japanese prisons are bursting at the seams with old ladies.  Don’t believe?  Read it here from a real news source.  As I see it, I’m just planning ahead.

Photo credit:  This photo has been floating around the internet for years with about 1,000 memes attached to it.  I just did a google search old lady drinking at the gym.  This is what I found. No copyright infringement intended. If this is your photo, I will kindly give you props. Otherwise, I aspire to be the old lady at the gym day drinking.