Oh Chondritis

why do you torment me so?

Rib jabs  – a stab of pain, just a moment, sudden, quick, gone, but enough to take my breath for a second.  I had almost forgotten about you.   I’m never stupid enough to think I’m cured,  but sometimes, for a few blissful months, you go to sleep.  Until the full moon, and the cold, and the damp weather, poke the sleeping monster and you wake.   You don’t like to be awake, it seems  – and my ribs pay the price.

If I could wish you away,  I would.   I should be thankful for the days when you don’t rear your ugly head.   It;s hard to be thankful when you’re hurting.   It’s hard to relax the muscles that are tensed, ready for the next jab of pain.    I know this too shall pass.  It always does – if only it didn’t hurt so much in the moment.

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The Christmas Tree that almost wasn’t

It started in November.   I asked the kids what they wanted for Christmas and was told,
“just give us money.”   “No gifts?”  I asked.   “No, just money.”   “A gift card?”  “NO, just MONEY!”

It made me sad.  Then it made me mad.

I’m not Christian, but I love Christmas.  I love the joy of the season, the unselfishness, the process of choosing a gift for someone, something that says you love that person, something they’ll cherish, look at and remember you, and remember that you took the time to choose it just for them.    I admit to doing a last minute “holy shit, I gotta get a gift for SoAndSo” thing, but even that shows that you’re at least thinking about the person.

I felt like an ATM.   I felt used.   I lost any small amount of Christmas spirit I had managed to gather, watched it sink into the well of darkness that’s always waiting for me.

We always get a tree.   I decorate the house.   I buy gifts and bake cookies that we don’t eat, and make candy to give away,  and generally just fill the house with love and joy and peace.   This year, I couldn’t manage it.

I told the Bear, finally.   He said that it was easier this way, that we could just hand them money and be done.   ATM.   I’m not a fucking ATM.

I gave in.   But I saw his face when I said I didn’t want a tree.

And so we got a tree.  And I found some joy.   I got gifts for him, and from him.   The kids got their cash.   ATM.   May they have joy of it, may they someday realize that there’s more than getting, there’s also joy in giving.   Somehow I don’t think they ever will.


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I’ve spent the last two hours trying to do one freaking thing in my online class and the internet connection is so incredibly slow that it’s still not done.
It’s also defaulting to something that will not work, because it was for last semester and it won’t let me change it.

I hate computers some days and today is one of those days.


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Many things

A couple of years ago, I was accused of being a bully.   The person who made the accusation did not confront me, or talk to me, or contact me.   She cut off all contact and blocked me from any means of defending myself from the accusation – which was totally untrue – aside from going to every friend we had in common and trying to explain what was really happening.

I was left wounded and scarred – and I still bear those scars.

I’ve been thinking about this episode in my life a lot lately.   I’ve been accused of many things in my lifetime – I’m not a kid and you don’t get to my age without pissing off a few people along the way.    This was the first time I felt helpless.   I don’t start fights, never have, I’m the one who finishes them.   This feeling of not being able to fight back was something that I never want to experience again.

Why is this on my mind lately?    Watching famous men being taken down by accusations – while some of them are not people I like or admire and I admit to a touch of glee at their tumbling from their pedestals , I find myself comparing what’s happening to them to what happened to me.   They’re given no chance to defend themselves, immediately we’re told that women don’t lie.   (Here’s a dirty little secret.  Women lie.   I know, I am one.  I would never lie about being sexually assaulted, but some would, indeed some would)

There is guilt on both sides of the political aisle.   It makes me sick, it makes me fear for my country.    It is not right to ruin someone’s life to further an agenda.   It’s just not right.

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When you’re just tired

I can’t seem to do a bloody thing right today.    It’s probably just due to exhaustion – I was up half the night with Max, who has developed a touch of arthritis in his hips and was in a bit of pain, enough to make him whimper every few minutes.   He never whimpers, so it scared me.    And off to the vet we went today, to find that indeed, it’s arthritis and he needs some meds to help with that now.    My old guy, weren’t you a playful puppy, nipping at my hands, just a few weeks ago?    We’ve grown old together, you and me, and it hurts to see the signs in you far more than the signs in me.

I went for my walk.   I started laundry and tried to do some school work.   And when I didn’t want to decide what we want for dinner, I got the look and the attitude.    Why must it always be my decision?   YOU have to eat too, dammit!

Laundry needed switched and I wasn’t in the room.   Comments on posts on facebook were met with responses that seemed to imply I was an idiot for making them.

And then the laptop shut down while I was playing a game I’ve played hundreds of times – overheated for some unknown reason.

I sincerely hope that Max sleeps tonight, there will be pain meds to help him with that, and that tomorrow is a better day.

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I need a nap

or ice cream

I’m exhausted and I didn’t do much of anything today

I suppose that walking 5.3 miles was something

In the heat

But other than that, nothing really

I think ice cream will help

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when you’re just too tired to cast a spell

I was gonna devote tonight to study and some candle work but I’m just too tired

My day:

Get up, run errands, get ready for book group.

Go to book group, drive around aimlessly for 15 minutes hoping a parking place will open up because this is the city and there are no parking lots and this chick doesn’t do parallel parking unless it’s an absolute emergency, by which I mean, “never.”

Send annoyed message to group leader suggesting that further meetings be held in a place that actually has a parking lot.   Go home.

Gather stuff together, drive to park, walk five miles, then back home.

Clean bathrooms, get a shower because sunscreen is sticky stuff.

Start laundry

Grade projects for online class

Put laundry away

Make pizza for supper

More laundry

Is it bedtime yet?

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A big part of my weight loss plan has to do with walking.   Miles and miles every day – walking off the pounds, through the rain and the snow and the sore feet.  I walk.  I don’t love it but I do love how much weight I’ve lost.

I get books on CD and listen while I walk.  I get 2 hours of me time, 2 hours of sore feet, sore legs, 2 hours of “I can’t take another step” while I keep on going.   It’s becoming my daily ritual, one that helps me find peace and keeps me sane for the rest of the day.

My right foot hurts.   A lot.  It’s swollen and bruised on top and it hurts, all the time.   Sometimes it hurts more than other times but it never stops.  During my routine physical, I mentioned it to my doctor.  He sent me for x-rays.  It appears that I have one badass bunion.

Praying I don’t need surgery – because if I can’t walk for weeks, I don’t know what I’ll do.


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He owns my heart

Everyone thinks they have the best dog in the world

Everyone is wrong

Their dogs may be wonderful but there’s only one Max.

I took him for a check of a lump because Golden Retrievers get lumps and sometimes they’re cancer and most often they’re not.   This one was not.    But the vet found a nasty, weird thing in his mouth.   Surgery was scheduled for the next morning.   It looked bad, and the vet was very concerned, he loves Max almost as much as I do.   We picked Max up after the surgery, met with the vet to discuss what he did and what he thought.   He was trying to be positive but I could tell he thought it was bad.   He sent samples out for biopsy and we would know in a few days.

Two days of barely breathing, two days of trying not to cry, two days of worry.    Secretly planning, what will we do if we hear that word?   Praying that if it was bad, it would at least be fast.   Never wanting to see my baby boy suffer, but not ready to lose him, not yet, he’s too young, he’s too much the center of my life, I can’t be without him, not yet.   But I will suffer so he doesn’t.   I will take the pain so he won’t feel it.


And then the call.   The biopsy was back.
Broken tooth, bad infection, no sign of cancer.   None.   Not a single one.


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A lie is a lie even if you repeat it over and over

Watching the media these days is giving me flashbacks.
My sister is a liar.   Given the choice between a lie and the truth, she will tell the lie every single time.   She’ll hold that lie to her breast and declare it true and anyone who says otherwise is out to get her, attacking her, their memory is faulty, how can they possibly think she’s not telling the truth?

If she doesn’t like you, fuggett abowt it.   You’re done.   She will move Heaven and Earth, make up stories, twist events, leave out relevant facts, do whatever it takes to make you look bad and make her look like a victim.

It doesn’t matter how many people say nothing happened, if people want to believe it did, they need little “evidence.”

You were promised Hillary.   You didn’t get Hillary.   So you’ll move Heaven and Earth to prove that you were robbed!   The real winner must be impeached!  Whether he does anything to deserve that is irrelevant.   Keep saying it, and say it often enough and people will believe it.

Unless they don’t.  It just might backfire.    Take my sister as an example – she has very few friends and most of her family wants nothing to do with her.   You can’t play that card too often – people get wise.

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