Embrace the Rage

I have a mother-fucking eye twitch and I’m trapped in one of the world’s most annoying damn classe and it may be time to RANT.
Let’s say you are taking a class about how to drink water.  It happens to be something you do everyday, but because it is required you go to the class with the expectation of learning something useful.  The first day of class you learn where water can usually be found,  maybe spend some time talking about juice (?!) and then they hint that eventually you might see someone drinking water. Disappointing, but you go home with hope for tomorrow.
The next day you get to spend some time watching your instructor lay on the floor while another instructor pours the water into her mouth, spilling over 80%….da fuck? I could explain how to drink water more efficiently than that!  Then we get a couple guest speakers who explain that at their companies everyone drinks water everyday successfully….. That’s great,  but I want to learn HOW to drink the water!
The third day,  we end up talking about juice again,  but this time we have to write down how we would make wine out of juice….and suddenly I can’t stop my fucking eye from twitching. 
This is insane. 

Well, that’s different.

So I’ve been living alone for years. I think it was a damn good thing for me to have had that time where I didn’t have anyone to really fall back on. Don’t get me wrong, there were literally times I thought I was going to die (dengue, diabetes complications, etc.) but I learned so much about how resilient and capable I can be.
So, I’m not alone anymore and despite Herbert (service dog) having some issues (HOW DARE YOU KISS FoodLady’s HEAD INTERLOPER! I KILL YOU!) settling in, it feels wonderful. We fit. I don’t believe I understood before now how loving someone was not enough to live with someone; you have to work with each other and not around each other. I had never experienced the difference and holy crap, what a difference! I am not used to having help and help is a good thing.   Yesterday I reveived the unwelcome news that someone I used to work with had passed away. My initial reaction was to bury the pain because I “have company”. Thankfully my partner/love knew better and didn’t let me bury it. Instead, he kept me company on the bed while we listened to an audio book about zombies (he.HATES.zombies) and let me deal with the sads in my own way. He keeps reminding me that he is home by doing stuff around the house (dishes, laundry) and I am learning to let him help.
So, this is a weird new chapter in my life, but thus far it is wonderful and satisfying one.
Wish me luck. 😉

Welcome to the world’s most boring blog post

I have a solid 20 posts in draft, but I feel stuck in every single one. So, instead of hilarious anecdotes of visiting my family or even random fantasies instead you get this:

So, growing up I never ate peanut butter and jelly.  I had peanut butter on toast and I had jelly on toast but it was not considered normal to put the two together. I tried it in college and I rated it a solid “meh”. I finally found my favorite version of that sandwich (I told you–boring).
I had it last night and again for dinner just now. A toasted whole wheat bagel smeared on one half with Peter Pan peanut butter and the other half smeared with smuckers cherry preserves.  Then I alternate bites from each half. Holy crap is that good and holy crap was that *the* most boring information I have ever put out into this world.
I am incredibly sorry.
Love y’all,
-H.

Hyperfocused MacGuyvering Causes Wounds

I now work at a job where I have more time off than I have ever had before at any job in my life.
It is freaking weird.
Everytime I submit for time off I get in trouble because I keep asking for 8 hours a day off per day and, oddly, I am only supposed to be working for 7 hours per day. Did I mention I get to travel to Ohio for 3 weeks because the place I work freaking closes for 3 weeks? And I still get paid. It is pure insanity to me; now you would think I would have noticed this last year but I had dengue fever, so I sort of missed the 2012/13 holiday season. Almost missed out on living due to that nasty virus. I loathe mosquitos. Anywhoodle, now I have all of this time…but I have absolutely no money. Everytime I think I am getting ahead, something stupid happens like my internet getting turned off because the credit card they had on file expired 4 months ago and now I owe them $200.00 which I don’t have. I paid them $100 and they gave me 5 more days to come up with the rest. So, on Monday I shall call them and beg them to wait until my Thursday paycheck before cutting off the interwebs. I swear, there *is* a point to this post; at least as much of a point as any of my random, oft inane, ramblings.
Today my attention deficit disorder allowed me to hyperfocus on preparing for my visit to Ohio. It all started with my most dangerous of all thoughts, “I wonder…”. In this case the thought was, “I wonder if it would make more sense to purchase shampoo/conditioner/random other toiletries to ship to Ohio so I have less to pack.” Turns out this was a great idea and I will be doing it. But along the way I came across something I *wanted*. I didn’t (don’t) *need* it; but I wanted it. They sell fancy little magnetic compacts that allow you to “de-pot” your makeup and streamline what you actually use. I hate having a crap ton of little compacts because one of my favorite colors or something is stuck in there along with 5 or 6 I didn’t love as much. And off I went…disemboweling makeup cases, finding a cd case to use as a container, then finding a better disemboweled compact to use for the stuff I really liked. I didn’t have any fancy magnetic paint or even magnetic sheeting; but I did have half a gluestick in a hot glue gun, a stick to poke the glue stick through, isopropyl alcohol, a hair straightener, and, obviously, tools.
I am less than proud to say that I didn’t do any of these things safely, intelligently, or even logically. Somehow I impaled my foot on an unknown something, sliced my index finger open while depotting (think slow ripping metal papercut), and received a couple few little burns here and there from grabbing hot little metal pots from the unstable surface of a hair straightening iron placed on a pillow.
I mixed and melted 2 foundations together to make the perfect color, melted small amounts of my 2 favorite lipsticks, mixed loose face powder, blush, and eye shadows with alcohol and made a little pots of pressed powder for various parts of my face. I glued all those little pots of my favorites into a previously disemboweled compact and glued all of the other de-compacted pots into a cd case along with a mirror.
All in all, although it was a totally hyperfocused illogical project that took me way too much time and caused me way too many injuries, I think I did pretty well and made myself a great travel compact.
image

Starting from the left we have 6 eye shadows, 2 lipsticks, a blush, face powder, and concealer/foundation. All things considered I can create every look I could ever want with what is in this sucker.
I’m quite pleased.
So, being poor makes me creative n’ shit. That said, it also makes me wounded and completely distracted from all of the stuff that I should probably be doing instead of this.

Dislike..

Okay, this is not a post about any great wrongs done to me or anything too exciting…just a chance to know me a little more should anyone be interested.

I really dislike riding around in a car for “fun”. Never understood it and I get violently car sick in the backseat. Sometimes even in the passenger seat…and on one rather intense occasion while driving on the island of St. Thomas.  It was weird and I sincerely hope not repeatable.
Back in the historical days of pre-marriage while attempting to impress upon my future ex mother in law what a lovely young lady I was I sat in the backseat of her ford escort wagon as she drove for about 3 hours through the winding roads of north Illinois until we meandered into Wisconsin. I remember silently praying for death as my stomach lurched one way then the other. It was horrible.
Now, there is one thing I really enjoy doing while other people drive and that is sleep. Oh, I can go from zero to snore in about 30 seconds if I am with someone I trust to drive and I sleep deeply and well.
I have a rather ongoing non-sexy fantasy of just conking out while someone drives me around for a while.
Alright, I know….not my most interesting of posts.
Love y’all.
-H.

Alone is not the same as lonely…

…and 99% of the time I am thrilled with my own company. But lately? Lately I have been lonely. I have repeatedly proven that I am capable of maintaining loving relationships with people far far away. Hell, maybe I am so good at it because eveb when married more than 50% of the time we were far apart from each other.
So now what.
I am polyamorous. I know in my heart and in my soul that loving more than one person is how I am made. Sadly, while love is infinite–time is not and it is just not possible to maintain deep and loving relationships with more than a few close people.
Every once in a while I feel so lonely I panic a bit and ask a beloved to give up their lives and come and be with me.
Thankfully, no one has yet to take me up on the offer. Because I know by doing that…by having someone give up everything to come and fold themselves into the stupidity of my life is just ridiculous and unfair.
I know this because I gave up everything and everyone I knew to move and be with the man I loved. And I ended up a miserable huddled mass of regret. Because how can one person become everything for another? They can’t; nor should they.
Does this mean I should try to date locally? No. Because the people I love are still the people I love. My dance card is all filled up.
I guess the answer is that I have no answers. I do know that I am alone too much and I’m not overly happy these days. But that could be surgical backlash or a host of other issues.
So, basically….what you just read was a whiny annoying post with little to no intrinsic value. Sorry bout that!
Hugs!

So many things to say….

So many things to say and yet absolutely no ability to make with the words. No, seriously…I am aware I was just off work for 4 weeks yet the house is a bigger mess than ever and my desire to go back to work has been stymied by my seriously swollen ‘meh’ reflex.
Although, my incision has healed nicely so I guess that is something anyway.
Yesterday I was at the doctor for my 4 week checkup and I had a few questions that I couldn’t bring myself to look up on the interwebs. The largest of my questions had to do with 1. What is that horrible stabbing pain? and 2. I have my ovaries, I do not have a uterous, so I know that I will not bleed on a monthly basis (wooooohooooo!) but given that I still have ovaries will I ovulate and/or have other fun cycle-related joy–turns out yes (which I had assumed and was damn sorry to be right about). Turns out the stabbing agony of wonder was directly related to this question–I was, in fact, having trouble ovulating. Sigh.
BUT, I tell you this less-than-interesting-story to be able to tell you the most interesting story I have heard in years as told to me by my doctor. I apparently inspire such stories. 🙂
So, there was a lady who was not born with the bottom half of her vagina. She also didn’t have a uterous. This was just one of those unfortunate genetic mutations which caused this woman to be unable to have vaginal intercourse. So, she had just finished felating her married boyfriend when his wife came in and shot her in the stomach.
Wonder of wonders, 7 months later they found that this woman had sustained an abdominal pregnancy. Both she and the baby survived.
But take a second and think this one through–had that woman been shot 15 minutes later her stomach acids would have destroyed the sperm; 15 minutes earlier and there wouldn’t have been any sperm. And let’s not forget, she didn’t have a uterous–therefore not only conceiving but sustaining an abdominal pregnancy for 7 months before detection; well the chances of this particular conception occuring are incalculable. My doctor explained this story to me because she knew I would be fascinated by it and also as a ‘don’t get shot in the stomach immediately after swallowing ejaculate while ovulating because holy crap it has happened before!’ warning.
I felt the need to share this warning with others.
Important aside: I heard this incident happened in Boston but haven’t searched for it yet so the veracity of the story is not yet proven.
Have a good night everyone! And remember, don’t get shot! (regardless of the presence of eggs and/or spermatazoa.)
Kisses,
-H.