I think I’m tying it all together….?

Good evening!

My therapist (bless him) keeps encouraging me to write. He’s not wrong, I do love to write….except when I don’t.

Ya ever have a wound or, as they are often referred to, a “boo boo,” that has healed on the top but you know the infection is in a pocket beneath that healed skin? But you know if you pick it will hurt like hell, but you also know if you don’t pick it won’t heal correctly. It is natural to avoid pain (don’t get me wrong, I love some types of pain….but the sick stressful pain of infection or grief is not enjoyable to me), pain has evolved to provide us a warning system. I picked a bit at my grief scab.

It was my father’s birthday on Saturday. I was lucky enough to have a beautifully kind friend spend the night on Friday and spend the day with me while D was at work Saturday. I successfully avoided going down a black hole of sad and late Saturday night I put on the Eagles Greatest Hits, poured a glass of tonic water over ice, and just thought about dad. I remembered good times and bad times, all while listening to music I know he loved and drinking that bittersweet fizzy tonic water. There are a lot of things that zoomed through my head during that 30 minute private memorial but the one that really shines brightly in my mind was the night I was working late in the refinery in 2011 when I finally decided to get a divorce and I called my dad. That is probably something that sounds perfectly normal to a lot of people, but that was never the relationship I had with him. But that evening he gave great advice and I will never forget how close I felt to him as he described that he couldn’t handle when his marriages began to fall apart so he just got lost in work. Because at work, there are things to fix and things you can make better.

So, when I just found myself writing to a friend the something similar to the following,

“Just wanted to let you know that as of tomorrow morning I’m going to be back on the non-stop work, no-time-to-breathe, if I have time to pee once during the day I will have considered it a total win and co-workers will be jealous of my urination (I wish I was kidding, it really is that intense every damn day) schedule. See, I spend my days attempting to triple the shelter’s holding capacity by running a foster care program (meaning dealing with humans as well as providing behavioral opinions on canines that occasionally guide life and death decisions. It’s a lot and it’s non-stop. If you message me and I don’t reply in a timely manner, please know it is just because of work and I will get back to you as soon as I can.”

And then I laughed and thought, “Holy shit Dad! I’m using work to avoid being sad about you dying! Because in our family, that’s what we do. ❤️” I miss my father very much.

And then I realized, I wonder if I LOVE working at the animal shelter because it feels so very similar to working with emergency response teams? Because we honestly do work from emergency to emergency and I feel very close to my co-workers, maybe because they are great people or maybe because we all fight together for the improved welfare of animals? Honestly it’s probably both of those plus hundreds more reasons like we are all absolute shit at taking care of ourselves, but we seem to be pretty good at taking care of each other and I am blessed because of that.

So, I wroted. Cried a bit. Drained a bit of infection.

Now, I’m off to unfuck my morning and maybe seductify my husband.


Goodnight all.


Y’all!!! I done got flirted with today!

No, seriously. I have been out of the flirtation game for a while now, and if you want the truth? Never was very good at flirting. My big “move” back in the day was pizza and a movie and a “will you rub lotion on my back?”

So, random rather panty-droppingly-handsome dude has a dog behavior problem, I offered to help, somehow that led to….well……I received a very nice penis photo, or dick pic, if you will.

Before anyone says, “but wait?! Your beloved? Won’t he be jealous/angry/whatever?” Haha! As soon as the chat turned flirty I contacted my beloved love muffin and said, “hey, I’m getting flirted with – you okay with this before I encourage anything?” He really IS the love of my life. **Dreamy Sigh**

So, as soon as dick pic made an appearance I immediately began doing the investigation. Don’t even lie, y’all do it to: size? (disturbingly impressive); is it level and plumb? (Yep! Could use that impressive tool as a, well, tool!); grooming (beautifully manscaped like he works in porn!); anything weird in the background? (not that I could see). Well, hot damn. What we have here is a rare mythical unicorn indeed – an attractive penis.

I have always considered myself a connoisseur of penises and in my experience, the really oversized dicks tend to be disappointing. No, really. I’m sure there are exceptions out there (at least I hope so!), but the few really obscenely large penises I have seen are usually unveiled by the dude in a rather, “Tah-Dah!” manner and that’s about all the effort they put in.

So, to recap: I got flirted with, it was kinda hot.

Happy Thursday. 😍


So, sitting here working and if I had to swear to it, I would say my blood sugar was going low. I came to this conclusion using logic. I felt a little woobly and sweaty and added that to taking a big bolus of breakfast insulin because I was planning to eat a big plate of leftover Chinese food (ALL THE CARBS) but only ate about a third. Seems logical, right?

Oh, that’s right!? Diabetes is not a logical fucker. It’s an asshole.

Nope. Blood sugar was 171 mg/dL. So, I took another 2 units to knock it down a bit more.

But all I could say was, jeeeeebus! I really have NO FRIGGIN CLUE what’s going on with my blood glucose. None.

I’m a SENSITIVE person. I can usually tell things about my body pretty darn well. I guess that’s why not being able to tell where the fuck my blood sugar is makes me crazy (-ier).

Do y’all know (of course you don’t, why would you?) I spent about 4 months of my life horrifically depressed because I was trying to live with my blood sugar too low? Did I know that’s what caused it? Nope. That sucked.

So, I’m now off of what I think of as the “easy” meds, and I’m back on the insulin fun. It actually works much better for me, except for this pesky not knowing if I’m high, low, or okay.

That’s kind of a bitch.

I’ve begun training the wee Janelet puppy to eventually become a service dog. I had to order new freezer tubes and cotton, so right now we are working on basic manners and obedience. Wish me luck! ❤️

snot monster

So, a plague-rat has infected me and now I’m dying. To detail that a little better, my friend’s son gave me his cold and now I’ve turned into a disgusting snot-monster who can’t lay down without coughing. Even worse, beloved manly rough and tough husband appears to be coming down with it as well. While he may be the roughest and toughest manly man ever (shut up, he reads this! :P), when he is sick he devolves. When I’m sick I regress  into cave-dwelling-leave-me-alone-but-now-I’m-lonely level of annoying. The two of us sick at the same time = no bueno. He texted me from work asking if we can cancel the viewing of a potential rental house because he feels crappy too. 

Welp. We’re doomed.  I warned him that if we are both sick at the same time he better use the last of his strength to bring home provisions lest we drown in our own mucus. He agreed, here is the list:

1. soup. it’s what we live on now. I recommend getting plenty of it. chicken noodle and split pea sound great to me (uh. not together). 

2. crackers. because we live on them in soup. 

3. diet coke (we’re low)

4. more juice (because I love you and we will fight over the juice if it gets low). 

5. vanilla coke (cause you like it)

6. popsicles. because they help. obviously bomb pops are the best but any port in a storm. 

7. bread (because toast is nummy too)

8. for the love of my schnoz, tissues with lotion please. 

…and now you know what the next couple of days looks like in my life. 

Love ya!


random update

Sweet baby cheesus I feel like I have been ridiculously busy lately. Regardless, I love writing so I am trying to give myself the time to do it. 

Okay, so….me. I’m doing okay. I’m flirting with this idea of being happy and let me tell ya, letting myself be happy is super scary (what? y’all know I’m broken) but I’m working on it. 

Got married, and for the record that was super scary too, but by golly it’s been kinda great. 

The only speedbumps in my idyllic highway of life (ha! at the moment. as y’all know there are ALWAYS going to be speedbumps) are my landlords and my boss.  Since I have only so much time to kvetch on here, I’ll save my boss stories for another day. 

 the landlords

okay, so I’m sure they are good people somewhere down deep. Like really really deep. (Or maybe not, who knows?) Their daughter is one of the best people I know, so they can’t be all bad (theoretically). 

About a year ago they offered to sell us the house. We excitedly agreed and decided it made more sense for us to buy the house as a married couple. They encouraged us to have the wedding at their house. We agreed. We arranged everything, paid for everything, and did our best to be conscientious guests. Two days before the wedding I fell down the concrete & tile stairs at their house during a rainstorm and hurt myself rather badly. Toughed it out, kept moving, got married and it was lovely (theoretically, can’t know for sure as the photographer (WHO APPARENTLY DOESN’T UNDERSTAND CLOUD STORAGE OPTIONS) broke his hard drive and lost all of our pictures. Yes, we have had great people look at it, and yes…it’s toast.) We wanted to spend our wedding night at home and we were also responsible for shuttling three of our beloved friends who flew down for the wedding. The morning after the wedding I was hurting badly, but as soon as the Advil kicked in we got up, picked up friends, and took the bows & ribbons down on our way to the house. When we arrived most of the cleanup was done (per their daughter, she and her boyfriend stacked up all the chairs before they left the night before), so we began packing all the stuff away. The next day my mother and I shared a plate of fish and chips and ended up with food poisoning. I felt horrible, she felt horrible and I was freaking exhausted. I did not take my mother to see the adult parade because [see above] food poisoning, exhaustion, and severe back pain. 

Well that was apparently the “last straw” for the landlord who decided to approach me to calmly discuss her feelings in a private chat….no wait, that would have been appropriate, what she decided to do was screech at me about how selfish and ungrateful of a person I am (note: only me, not my new husband) in front of a beach bar of people (including my mother) and how dare I not show up earlier to set up and tear down for my wedding and how dare I not take my mother to the adult parade and then she stomped off. I just sat there and cried. I haven’t heard from her since – except recently to tell us (via email) that we can no longer buy the house and to increase the rent by an additional $200 per month. Then, to add just a little more joy to it, another email came through changing it so we are now responsible to pay for grass cutting (which means our rent just increased by at least $300 per month) – she even was thoughtful enough to suggest it would be great exercise. And the latest bit of joy is that we need to lock in on this great deal for a year lease. 

The shittiest part of it all, is that due to these five beloved idiot rescue dogs (fingers crossed – may have a home for one of them) we are pretty much stuck accepting whatever fucked up “punishment” amendments they decide to force our way. 

Anywhoodle, other than that crap – life is good. If anyone knows of a dog-friendly small house with fenced in yard for rent here on STX, please let me know! ❤❤❤


Ugh. feelz. 

So, I hate people right now. I know, hate is bad, getting sucked into a vortex of negatively isn’t healthy, blah blah blah. 

But I have been circling the emotional drain these days anyway, so what’s a little rage gonna do, make me sadder? meh. 

Made some positive steps, found a new doctor – a real one. *sigh* It is so damned stressful to go in and try to explain all of my numerous issues and meds without them either freaking out or not caring. Also, I inherited a wonderful *brave happy face* gene from my mother that causes me to immediately put other people at ease over my own comfort and well-being. In other words, when at doctor and I say something like, “I’ve been a little stressed lately.” actually means something like, “I’ve been afraid to leave my house and I have weekly panic attacks and I keep wishing I was dead.” 


I also went to a Yoga class on Sunday and that was wonderful! see, positive changes n’ stuff. 

it will all be okay, at least it should feel okay eventually, right? But it almost feels like now that everything in my life is going okay, now I’m feeling all the things and it is fucking with my ability to function.

I lost my shit a little bit last night in dog training class. I am working with Piper & Ziesa (when I can wake Ziesa up anyway); neither are naturals at obedience. In one class there is this beautiful dog that loves obedience and is just responsive and wonderful. That dog’s human said to her dog like, “as soon as you get happier with other dogs, you’ll be perfect!” 

…and it felt like my heart physically cracked in half. I had a perfect dog (okay, I know he was not perfect, but he was perfect for me and so responsive and trainable and made me so fucking happy) and the universe thought it a good idea to kill him in a stupid fucking slow, painful, and ridiculous way for no good fucking reason. It wasn’t fair (I know the world isn’t fair). It wasn’t kind (I know the world isn’t kind). It hurt me. It still hurts me. It has been 6 months, and it still fucking hurts me every fucking day. 

I want to be over it. I want to move forward. I want to be better. Hell, I would be happy to just fucking feel okay. 

Okay, feelings-time needs to be over now. 



sometimes, it ain’t easy being in my head.

actually, the majority of the time is isn’t easy being in my head. anywhoodle, it is sunday and I am currently greatly enjoying a new fancy bluetooth keyboard which switches between my phone and my tablet with a little knob. I got this keyboard as a gift under the theory that the keyboard would allow me to write more…so, this is me, writing.
The boyfriend is at the beach and he just texted me that two people we know just got in a fistfight. I have learned a few things as an adult – one of the most important things I have learned is that fist fights are not impressive. The just aren’t. I grew up learning karate from a young age and my mother was *very* into the whole culture of it. Sparring is awesome; exhausting, educational, and occasionally painful – but awesomely fun.
Those people who just lash out in anger at someone else – it’s just sad because either one person *is* good at fighting and they really hurt someone behaving like a pathetic bully OR, more likely, they are both just pathetic at fighting and just look lame.
It just isn’t worth it.
So, boyfriend sends me a text about this fight and that it is bloody and the cops have been called, etc. So, now my brain goes into….well, fuck, anyone think to give the dude an ice pack? Anyone doing anything close to first aid down there? and okay, who is cleaning up the blood? Cause I know that tiny-ass hotel does not have a bloodborne pathogen training policy. So, you see? See how a lame little bit of drama takes me right into first responder/work?
*deep sigh*
I can tell you that I am rather in love with this keyboard though!
Have a good Sunday folks, and remember – if you are an out of shape older dude wearing a bathing suit–don’t get into a fight, it’s just not a good idea.

Are you fucking kidding me? (episode 1)

So, due to a google search gone awry, I now know of another product in the world that annoys me.  It all started out simply enough–I have been obsessively searching online for an answer about silicone scar sheeting.  I have a wicked-huge keloid scar on the ball of my right foot. I am not an overly vain person and in general I celebrate my physical scars (emotional scarring is just embarrassing and shall remain hidden at all times, a’thank you very much) usually proclaiming something along the lines of “Chicks Dig Scars!”, but this sumbitch hurts. It’s that slow-ache-pain that I can usually ignore but lately it keeps popping into my consciousness and that usually means I have to “deal with it like an adult” before my body attempts something dramatic to really get my attention….stupid body. Anywhoodle,  I cannot determine if silicone sheeting you buy for a cost of all-the-monies is chemically different than silicone sheeting made out of aquarium silicone that you let dry. I’ll let you know if I ever get that answered–currently I am using some unused silicone earplugs mushed onto the scar for 8 hours or so at a time as well as some silicone scar spray….I think the earplugs are working better at this point.
Sorry, got of track there–I buy my diabetic test strips on Amazon because they are less than half of my copay at the pharmacy, so I checked there for scar strips. Nope,  still all-of-the-monies. For grins I spun over to ebay just to see pricing…. better, but medical equipment on ebay? hrmmmm. I noticed some “if you liked that,  you’ll lurve these!” links below and thus began my descent into thinkery. I was intrigued by the at-home instant answer HIV-1 and HIV-2 mouth swabs and part of me was all, “awesome! everyone should have some and use them before every new partner!” and part of me was horrified, “what if these are duds?!?” and “can you imagine having the responsibility of telling someone they tested positive?!”
So,  yeah…. and then, because if you spend longer than 10 seconds looking at the vast array of testing kits on ebay the algorithm apparently decides you are in need of this wee gem:
The Semen Detection Kit.
Here’s the thing, if you are in a relationship with someone and you feel the need to search on ebay for a kit that will tell you if there is cum on your partner’s clothing? Yeah,  that relationship ship has sailed–break up.  You are either correct and they are cheating on you (do you really need to find cum?) or you are paranoid and an asshole and you could both be happier not with each other.
love y’all,

Judge Me.

So,  we have a kitten.  His name is Gerald and he is adorable (and pointy). He loves the dogs and is, by all accounts, good to be a great cat. Cute little bastard,  isn’t he?


Having a kitten means you have to put their needs ahead of yours and forgive them when they do those adorable little things like draw blood whilst climbing your bare legs or attack your eyebrows because they hadn’t noticed that there were FURRY CATERPILLERS ON YOUR FACE WHICH MUST BE KILLED! But I realized after cleaning up the third destroyed roll of toilet paper that I can live without skin or eyebrows but I will be damned if I’m going to have to live without toilet paper.  So,  with a little help from my teeny tiny screwdriver I have turned my unused towel rod into Über Toilet Roll Holder.
Now,  I know it isn’t conventionally pretty…. but I love it. Unfortunately, it gave me another idea involving a a label maker and six different brands of toilet paper to determine if there is a superior brand of wiping paper. That project is still in the planning stages.




Today has had a little too much monday in my monday. My pants are too tight due to, well, eating too damn much (damn, hold on…let me check my blood glucose….116. nope, that’s a pretty one. Sometimes when I am overly bloated it is due to too much sugar swimming around….sorry, back to inane ramblings of myself.) Where was I? Oh yes, bitching about tight pants. Not only that but the too tight pants are sending these thong underroos so far north I can feel them in my spleen. A thong? you ask…I can almost hear you all thinking, “da fuq?” while you read that, well the thong was lovingly picked out by the boyfriend….I was attempting to snag the most incredibly comfortable granny panties (Hanes Xtemp) but he was being all sexy-cute and (insert attention deficit disorder now).

O.M.G. – I have a story! Sorry to interrupt my woe is me whine but a while ago I was wearing some seriously old granny panties…at one time they were white with blue and pink hearts on them but had apparently survived a rough decade (hangs head in shame: okay, two decades) and along the way met bleach and possibly a garbage disposal…whatever, they were clean and it was too hot to be sexy or wear pants. So, while laying there sweating quietly next to the boyfriend he mentioned, “those be some ‘thexy panties sweetheart” and then lost. his. shit. laughing. I was almost offended and proceeded to jump on top of him (heat be damned! the non-appreciator must be tickle-murdered!) and that’s when I saw my profile in the mirror absolutely ROCKING that ‘thexy bleached out gaping loincloth look and realized that holy shit were my panties hilariously bad and much laughter was had by all. I also decided maybe it was time to cull some of the more historic examples of my undies. 

Okay, back to my whining! Where was I…ah yes, pants too tight. underwear meeting spleen.. Oh, and I don’t often talk about work on this thing but whoo doggie, this building of doom also known to myself and a select few as “The Albatross” because it can never just be, the fuck, okay. Usually it is something small like floor tiles no longer remaining stuck to the floor or the internet going out (a lot) or the phones not working correctly (all the time) or….well, you get the idea. Sometimes? Sometimes it is something more impressive like the stairs attempting to fall the fuck off of the building. Today was slightly more impressive…today was the installation of a new water feature in the hallway! No wait, it was the pouring of the water from some faulty cooling equipment through the ceiling creating a giant dripping ceiling zip (which I so wanted to pop) but it popped itself and it was like Flashdance all up in the hallway. 

It was like this but with less of the sexy and no chairs were molested.

It was like this but with less of the sexy and no chairs were molested.

Well, kind of like Flashdance….but probably better acted and with less sexy and more office garbage cans being used to collect water. (Aside: I have a friend who did not see Flashdance until she was an adult and she seemed shocked at how horrible of a movie it was; I tried to explain to her that it was freaking magical as a 9-year-old but then I realized–holy shit. That movie is rated R. My parents totally didn’t regulate my viewing habits very well. Anyway, that shit was magical at age 9….that’s all I’m saying.) So, after the Flashdance ceiling zit explosion the mailman dropped off my new shoes! and it is the best day ever! They are orange and fabulous. 

New Shoes!

So, although there is every so much to be done work-wise it is remarkably challenging when there is a contingent of cooling workers spending the day in the hallway. So, while completely distracting it can be a little entertaining; the initial two dudes who showed up are not small – the one guy looks at the other guy and states, “we gonna have to call some of those little guys from the shop to fit up in ‘der.” the one dude decides to give it a go anyway and shimmies and wiggles his way above the ceiling to get to the unit only to find there was an access port to the unit in the ceiling of the first office. Although I feel like an ass about this one I’m still REALLY impressed that he managed to fit. 

So, that’s about it. Enjoy the ramble!