I am certain there are a million different people with a million different horror stories of how sucky diabetic neuropathy can be. Mine isn’t bad and I am thankful for that every single day. But it is important to remember that even one small Hershey’s kiss sized piece of poop on top of your sundae of life is still some shit in your sundae.
As I lay there I feel it; worse on my left foot than my right.<low buzzing almost electrical  zappery> Ugh. Make it stop! so I kick my foot. Didn’t help. Okay, I will listen to an audiobook. That’ll help distract me. . <low buzzing almost electrical zappery now accompanied by an audiobook>   I flip. I flop. I kick. I fuss. Finally at about one in the morning, after enough flipping, flopping, kicking, and fussing to irritate even Herbert (diabetic alert dog) off the bed I dig into my bag for a knife and with a growl of rage I grab the toe of my socks and pull it away up away from my toes and cut. it. off. A quick cut to the other sock and with a sigh conveying relief, irritation, and exhaustion I fall asleep within seconds.
I can’t have things touch my toes at night. Not always, sometimes I don’t feel it at all. But when I do—ugh. I now own more toeless socks than toed socks. Should I ever need to wear real shoes this may pose a problem.

Now, you are probably wondering, why not just take the socks off?

Well, because I am weird and my feet get cold and I wake up at 4 am with them aching if they get too cold. Also, it prevents my legs from getting bitten too much by mosquitos because yes, I wear thigh high socks to bed after the toes have been cut off.

So why not wear pants to bed?

Ah, wise question. Turns out that nowadays when I wear pants to bed due to my vast floppery I usually end up tied into an origami nightmare of which there is no escaping.

What is my entire bedtime ensemble you ask?

Ah, that one is easy. But be warned people, it ain’t sexy. Thigh high socks, no toes and bike shorts with a t-shirt. See, now I know you are all trying to make it cute…..it isn’t. But hot damn is it comfortable and for the most part prevents evil mosquitos from snacking on the majority of my body while I sleep.
Okay, toe rant over.
kisses!
-H.

No, I don’t want to be a jerk. I don’t wake up in the morning and rub my hands together and say, “bwah hah hah, how can I destroy other people this fine day!”  Instead, I usually wake up and say, “mmmmm. I want a bean and cheese burrito covered in extra cheese, taco sauce, and sour cream and a diet coke” and ladies and gents, that is about as deep as I go most days. So, please know that when I forget to text message you back or even forget to turn on facebook messenger and shoot you back a quickie I am not ignoring you. I’m not attempting to *do* anything. In fact, I am probably thinking about where my next burrito is coming from and sadly, THAT IS NOT A EUPHAMISM!

The funniest part of this? There is going to be no less than 5-7 people in my life who are going to read this post and think I am writing this directly to them and only them. Sadly, I am not. This is to all y’all. Except E. E and I have that type of friendship that allows us to completely ignore each other for days, weeks, months, and then get back into talking (and by talking I mean texting because both of us are pathological regarding our mutual hatred of talking on the phone) on an hourly basis for a while and then drifting back into getting distracted by shiny objects.

I have another friend (that’s right people, I have more than one friend–I’m fancy!) who once told me that her theory on brains is that there is a tiny dude living in everyones mind who works as a librarian. Some librarians know where every book is located by memory, some have to check a database, and some have everything in a messy card catalog. I embraced this theory but I’m 94% certain that the little librarian dude in my brain is stoned and has been stoned since I was a child. (Please note–I have not been stoned, the teeny little librarian dude in my brain is stoned) (this has taken an odd turn….anywhoodle). My brain librarian is SUPER ORGANIZED in some sections but in others he has put up party lights, a lava lamp, and with the strategic use of bean bag chairs turned those very important sections into a stoner paradise. Whenver I try to access those areas in my noggin librarian dude starts distracting me by lighting up other areas of my brain and causing me to get distracted and then instead of remembering to check in on facebook or look at my phone I end up turning my refrigerator into a chalkboard with the use of fancy paint or watching every single episode of some long-cancelled tv show or sharpening all of the knives in my house or coloring….what was I talking about? Oh yeah–I have distraction issues…..:)

I guess what I am trying to say is that I am sorry I forget to keep into contact with y’all. I don’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings. I just get distracted by life (the concept, not the dog; although sometimes she is kinda distracting….dammit–dude in my brain! stop distracting me!). But maybe that makes me a jerk?  I don’t know. I try not to be a jerk.  If I have been a jerk to you I am sorry.

**kisses**

H.

due to the someone in question being concerned regarding anonymity I have removed this post.

sorry darlin’!

-H.

…..so, I wrote this for a person I was excited to get to know but he felt uncomfortable about it. Because I really did like him I took it down. But since I realized he has deleted and blocked me out of his world with nary a word I figured what the heck–it reminds me I am still able to get excited about finding a new playpartner. **kisses**

So, I’m feeling corrupt-y again. To be perfectly honest I haven’t felt this way in YEARS. For the past fewish days (after I got to see some old friends and really feel centered and beloved for the first time in many years) i have been feeling……well…..FROGGY.
The only way I can describe this feeling is froggy. Froggy, at least in the brain of me, is the what I call Life (the dog, not the concept) when she has had a whole anti-inflammatory rather than just a half. She gets that mischievous glint in her eye that says, “member when i ate the couch looking for my skeeker? Or member when I got a deer carcass through the dog door? Yeah, thems were good times.” And then wants to play fetch. Because she feels GREAT; she feels FROGGY.
So, my version of couch destruction and/or deer carcass yoga involves (apparently) talking “dirty” and/or showing someone my boobs online. During shenanigans of meeting with my friends an almost cartoonish picture of my boobs was provided to someone to be sent to their friend to “show him what he was missing” and “shock him” (important sidenote: my boobs were NOT on display as said party). Well, yesterday morning I shot off a quick message to the intended boob victim, something along the lines of, “sorry about the boobs”. Awhile later I received a reply which stated, “never apologize for boobs”. That made me giggle but awhile after that I received a, “what boobs?” message. That made me chortle and then we had ourselves a fun back and forth that lasted for hours and then phone conversation and then we video chatted. A lovely time was had by all. 🙂
So, I am greatly enjoying that magical rush that comes with the mutual attraction of a new friendship/playmate for the first time in a long time. While I have no idea what, if anything, the future holds; I do think any future Midwest trips are going to be a LOT more fun. *evil grin*
Now, who wants to fly me back to the Midwest to get laid? Anyone? Hello? Is this thing on?
smiles & kisses y’all.
H.

Please note this is in no way a kinky post; but it sure as hell opens the door for a metric crap-ton of tossed salad jokes.

So, I have “developed” a lazy person’s way to make a very tasty salad dressing; the original version was taught to me by my Mimmi (paternal grandmother). I took her recipe and added slack. Enjoy.

• Take one mostly empty bottle of ketchup–around 1/3 or 1/4 of a bottle (pro-tip: don’t do this unless you have purchased a new bottle of replacement ketchup or you will be SUPER pissed when you go to use some ketchup and all you have is french dressing).
• Then eyeball how much ketchup there is and add a similar amount of sugar or substitute–if it feels like you are adding too much you are probably just about right–the original recipe was 1 cup ketchup plus 1 cup of sugar….so, yeah. I’m a diabetic, I usually use splenda. 🙂
• Then dig up some vinegar–plain white stuff, balsamic (if you want it to taste balsamic-y), red wine, white wine, heck–even apple cider has been used. Whatever, vinegar. Put about half  the amount of your ketchup. So yeah, if you have a cup of ketchup–use 1/2 cup or so of vinegar.
• Then find some oil–food based oils are preferred. 🙂 You know, olive….I have always used olive but be all sorts of crazy if you wanna. Throw a little more of the oil in the bottle than the amount of vinegar; not a ton more but more.

(just figured out why I never write recipes; please accept my apologies! 🙂 )

• So, shake it up and use it if it tastes good to you. 🙂 This is red-french or catalina-style dressing. I find it tasty and oh so conveniently in a squeeze bottle. enjoy. 

(I am waiting for water to be delivered to fill my cistern and my theory was if I get super involved in writing posts it will show up more quickly; I appear to be wrong.)