“Bridge”

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WordPress Word Prompt

This Post is about my Dad

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So I was sitting here, I’ve been up since 6am, and I’m trying/struggling to not fall asleep because The Kid has been sick and I wanna be awake if she needs me.

And I decide to do I tiny bit of self care and massage some of my homemade all natural nail and cuticle balm (shameless plug) into my nails, and the lavender scent is not helping my wakefulness. My whole plan was to stay awake as long as possible by reading. Haven’t stayed up late reading in a long time.

But somehow I manage to start thinking about how sometimes when my dad would drive me back to college after my bi-weekly home visit (I was unlicensed to the extent my learner’s permit—which took five tries to get the first time—expired, and grocery and laundry money coincided with Dad’s paychecks) we would stop at this little ice cream stand in a small town not far from home, and we’d get milkshakes.

Dad also liked to count the dead animals, laugh about “shoo poke cat” skunks, and point out flocks of turkeys in the hills.

He also quite enjoyed the “scenic routes”. That man knows how to get anywhere in all kinds of ways. I swear there’s a hillbilly GPS in his noggin with the longest routes with the best views highlighted.

He can fix just about anything and if he can’t do it he know someone who can. He knows literally everybody, actually.

Except the time he told me I didn’t need to flip the breaker to change a ceiling fan, I’d trust him with anything. Almost.

He’s put new doors on our house—cutting them to fit when necessary. He installed a new-to-us window when I was angry and threw a popcorn tin on my bed, which bounced into my window. He wasn’t happy about it.

There was this one time, we bought a computer off my uncle. It worked fine (for Windows MILLENNIUM EDITION) but I wanted to use the floppy disc drive (yes, I’m old) to save stories too. But I couldn’t get the disc into the drive.

So my dad, who could barely read, never touched a computer, got a screwdriver, opened it up, popped the face off , and shined a light inside.

My small cousins had shoved A PLASTIC MILK JUG RING AND A DORITO into the floppy drive of the computer. No wonder we got it so cheap. They thought they ruined it with the millennium edition update.

From swapping out engines and transmissions in vehicles, to using black electrical tape on open wounds, to knife making and wood carving, my dad could do just about anything.

Also that “can barely read” thing? Yeah he taught himself how to read so he could get his concealed carry permit.

Oh and can’t forget to mention how proud he was of his new dentures.

No idea why my daddy suddenly came to mind. I don’t call him enough, and I feel like a bad daughter for it. But I do think about him a lot. He’s almost 70, his health isn’t what it used to be, and after a heart attack, a quadruple bypass years later, diabetes and a lifetime of smoking it wasn’t much to begin with.

He retired after mom died, and I’m starting to believed when he says he shouldn’t have stopped working. Not that he could have worked much longer, but it kept him busy and gave him a purpose.

Thanks for reading this mini tribute to my silly old dad. Had absolutely no plans to post today, but he came up. I’m gonna see if I can convince my kid to come sleep with me.

Here’s a poorly shot and zoomed in video of a cardinal.

Featuring barking pepper dog

Also I have a YouTube channel!

Thanks for reading

-c

Just as I suspected

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I forgot to cancel my 1 year subscription to LoseIt Premium.

Lose It is an app (I use Apple) you can download to track your weight loss and all that nonsense.

For example. I know that my favorite at home breakfast to make for myself is a whopping 943 calories. I’m ashamed, don’t worry.

But you can also track your daily water intake, but only if you use premium.

When you set up your plan you tell it what you want to do and why.

It’ll also link to your Apple Watch or other fitness device. Today was my day off and I don’t wear my watch if I don’t plan on leaving the house much. So I didn’t have tracking. But my phone still tracks my steps.

I’m pretty sure I’ve walked more than 808 today but that’s besides the point.

I have tried Noom, a more expensive option that also has more features including lessons to help you learn about the psychology of the eating and such.

My problem is I struggle with taking the time to track my meals. I eat a lot of meals that would be difficult to guesstimate.

But I have a theory. I could lose weight if I (a) quit drinking so many sugary drinks and (b) portion control.

We’ve also already discussed the OatsOvernight situation. It’s healthier than McDonalds every day. But I’ve also got a month and a half stockpiled, so I’ve had to delay my next shipment three or four times.

My whole point is, I’m going to see if I can consistently use the LoseIt App and make it worth my $30.

Wish me luck.

Thanks for reading

-c

Throwback Thursday: Let’s Create a Character

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In which I utilized my Facebook page and #audienceparticipation to create a character and write a short story about her. I really liked this one.

Original Post

For the first time in a long time she drove home with a smile on her face. Despite the late hour she spent the whole ride home singing along to her car radio—even if it wasn’t her favorite song. And she was happy as could be. It was late, and she was tired and in need of a shower, but she was happy.

She took a sharp curve too fast, and something in her trunk shifted. For a brief moment the old feelings of not being good enough and self consciousness flashed across her face like a dark shadow. But it was brief. “I’ll take care of that garbage tomorrow.” She told herself, and continued loudly singing along.

When she got home, she slammed the car into park and the thing in the trunk shifted again. She blinked at the sound. Then, she turned off the car and went inside.

She sang in the shower—it always seemed to be the last song she heard that got stuck in her head—she belted out the chorus to that catchy pop tune that seemed to be everywhere at the moment, and used her loofa as a microphone. Afterward, instead of laying in bed thinking about all the depressing stuff, she curled up under the covers and pushed all the negative thoughts out of her head. “Tomorrow is a new day,” she told herself. “And I’m going to own it.”

When she woke the next morning she was bright eyed and bushy tailed and still very happy. She made herself a delicious breakfast; there was nothing like a good meal to start your day right. She was feeling so confident that she decided, for the first time in a while, she would dress up for work, and put on some make-up.

Once she was ready, cute dress and “frankly the best make-up look I’ve ever done,” she looked at herself in the full length mirror. “People are going to ask, “why are you so dressed up today” and “what’s with all the makeup?!”” She realized it would draw more attention to her. “I’m going to feel so stupid!” She groaned.

“You can wrap a pig in velvet and throw some lipstick on it but it’ll still be a pig,” she remembered. The darkness of that old depression and low self worth shaded her face once again. But again she froze, and when she looked back up, she smiled at herself in the mirror and said, “You look great today!” And she did.

Once in the car, she pulled out of her parking spot and the thing in her trunk moved again. She paused, then said, “I’ll take care of that later.” And turned her radio up.
Throughout her work day she got complements she’d never gotten from people who she thought didn’t know she existed. They said things like, “you look great today!” And “wow, cute dress!” For the first time in ages she felt confident. “Maybe,” she thought, “I’ll keep this up, I feel so great!”

Toward the end of the day there was free cake and drinks in the cafeteria in celebration of someone’s retirement. She was enjoying cake and conversation—she usually took her cake back to her cubicle— when she over heard people talking.

“No, she never came in to work. I was about to ask you if you’d spoken to her.” A man said.

“I actually haven’t spoken to her since yesterday,” the woman responded.

“I wonder if everything’s okay? She doesn’t usually miss work.” The man said.

“Especially if there’s a chance to make fun of people for eating too much cake!” He laughed.

She just stared at them, a darkness rolling over her face once again.

“HEY!” She heard a voice. She turned toward the sound. “You okay? You zoned out there for a minute,”

“Oh, sorry. Yeah, I’m—actually I’m not feeling well.” She said. “I think I’ll have to sneak out early.” She put her unfinished cake down, and rushed back to her cubical for her purse and keys. As she ran out to her car she felt the lovely veneer of happiness begin to crack.

When she turned the car on, the radio she left loud blasted a song, scaring a tiny scream out of her. She stifled it and turned the radio down. He backed out as the sky darkened with gray storm clouds.

She took a few curves too fast as the heavy droplets of rain slapped her car. The dark gray sky worsened as she drove the unfamiliar roads. She tried to keep singing along to the radio, but kept getting distracted. Instead she tried to focus on the road, and staying safe in the heavy rain.

She hadn’t driven the route in some time, and it was brighter and drier when she had, but she had business to take care of, and she knew she’d be happier once she did.

A few more minutes and a few sharpe curves later and she was at her destination. She backed her car against the cliff and hit the trunk button on her dash, quickly climbing out of the car and into the rain.

She took a deep breath and raised the trunk lid. The tarp had come unwrapped and a lock of perfectly bleached blonde hair and a red-manicured hand peaked out. “No one likes taking out the trash but everyone has to do it sometime.” She told herself.

She reached in and grabbed the corner of the tarp to pull it closer and the head of gorgeous blonde hair rolled forward. For a spilt second the darkness appeared and she thought, “Oh no!” She froze, but then refocused and said aloud, “almost done.”

She pulled and tugged until the blonde object was close, then one last hard tug, and she watched as the object in the trunk rolled down the embankment—hitting a few rocks on the way—and into the the lake below. She looked over the edge just long enough to make sure the object was gone, then she smiled widely and climbed back into her car.

Her cute dress ruined by rain and mud, her make-up smeared and running down her cheeks, she smiled in the rear view mirror and said to herself, “You looked great today.”
She pulled away from the cliff and drove away singing that catchy pop song that was everywhere these days.



I really enjoyed this one and thought I’d share again.

Thanks for reading,
-c

The Older I Get

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The shorter the days seem.

There’s not enough time in the day anymore. There’s not enough energy left in me.

This week is already half over and I’ve nothing to show for it.

I wake up exhausted. I get ready for work, exhausted. I get to work, exhausted. Work my shift, get more exhausted. Go home. Exhausted. Go to bed. Exhausted. Wake up slightly less exhausted than I was eight-ish hours before.

I have a day off and I sleep in but feel bad because I could have been doing so much but I’m still exhausted after sleeping in and/or napping (sometimes I do both).

Just gonna get progressively worse at a steady pace for the rest of my life.

No time to write blog posts. No time to promote on Facebook. No time to write or craft or read. Well, I read in parent pickup.

Big ideas. No energy.

Goodnight.

Train of Thought.

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Women wear making because it makes them feel beautiful.

But why does make up make us feel beautiful?

It’s because we were told our whole likes by society that make up makes you beautiful.

And why do we want to look beautiful?

Because it helps our confidence. But why is our confidence linked to beauty?

Because beauty is pleasing to someone else’s eye.

We feel good about looking beautiful because other people have always told us that looking beautiful is good because it is pleasing to look at.

We cannot see ourselves all the time, only when looking in a mirror.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

Beholder means a person who sees or observes someone or some thing.

So the person who sees the the beauty defines it. What one person sees as beautiful another may not.

But collectively and over the span of years and years society has taught us that beauty is attractive or pleasing to the eye

And makeup can make you beautiful.

So whether we say we wear makeup to make ourselves feel better or not, we’re doing it because of someone else.

Because someone else’s opinion of beauty.

Thank you for experiencing my chaos with me.

-c

Ten years ago, long before I had a kid and a consistent day schedule, I stayed up late at night to do crazy things like read, play The Sims, and write.

This was all also long before I had any sense. I mean I still don’t, but that’s besides the point.

I have had a rough could of weeks. Between trying to not get my hopes up about working in a classroom-no matter how hard I tried-to my truck stalling dead in the parent pickup line (the same line I decided to check job openings in). Then there was the realization that people much younger than me were creating careers for themselves (that’s my fault), feeling like I’m not good enough at work on a constant basis. Wondering if I matter at all to anyone one or if I’m just a bother. And we cannot forget how depressing it is paying a lot of money for something that is going no where *cough THIS WEBSITE cough*.

Then, three days ago, my tail light turn signal went out (yes the same truck). Now, I thought, “oh this’ll be easy! I’m a girl but I can figure stuff out! I changed a fuse in the thing to make my windshield washer fluid spray again, I can change a bulb in a tail light turn signal!”

I did what any strong, independent, woman who don’t need no man would do. I googled. I found the replacement bulb for my truck, I purchased it and then googled how to change it.

Welp.

I guess we all know where this is going.

Turns out the tail lights are “after market”. Which means, if you don’t know (and I’m probably wrong) a part or piece not original to the vehicle but made to fit. Or there about.

Anyway, the tail lights, which I now vaguely remember the dealer mentioning to me the day I bought it, are after market, which means the previous owners replaced them, for whatever reason with “upgraded” versions.

These do not have a bulb. These are LED. These have a taillight bulb (I assume that’s what it is) but the turn signal is not lit by a conventional bulb sold at your local big box retailer.

So, after all that has been going on around me, in my head, to me (and let’s be honest around the world) the stress was murdering me.

I promise I’ll get back to the story story in the beginning.

I figure, I’m gonna have to buy a whole new tail light assembly because I could not find a way to break in and change the LED lights in this thing. Aside from a hammer.

My very kind sister offered to have her husband (who does a lot for us including looking at our vehicles (mostly mine) every once in a while. Let’s just say I was a little mean to her and I feel terrible. I’ll get to why I feel worse later.

But anyway, I decided last night that I needed to stress play The Sims. I hadn’t played in a while and there was a house I needed to finish.

So I did what any strong, independent, woman who has depression and is on the verge of a mental breakdown (and is off the next day) would do.

I stayed up until roughly 3am building a house in Sims. This is no ordinary house. The first floor has a kitchen and dining area, a family room, a large patio to the side, and a formal living room. There’s also the elevator, full bathroom, entrance to “garage” and apartment above.

On the second floor there are four bedrooms, each with their own bathrooms. each are uniquely designed with specific interests in mind. The third floor is basically a master suite equipped with everything but a kitchen, I’m realizing now.

Oh and the unfinished basement/dungeon.

It really is my finest work. And my most expensive to date. Each private area has its own computer, there’s a nook between the formal living room and garage that I filled with flowers and plants so that the full picture windows had something pretty to look out at.

I got almost three hours of sleep before I had to get up to get The Kid ready for school, and I went back to sleep after they left. I slept til 10, got up had some food. And ended up taking a 40 minute nap before I had to take The Kid to a doctor appointment.

But guess what

Go ahead and guess.

No really. I’ll wait.

MY TAIL LIGHT TURN SIGNAL WORKS AGAIN. LORT KNOW HOW OR WHY OR FOR HOW LONG. But I’m not currently afraid of getting pulled over. Currently.

Well, I’m writing this with one she open as the other one is done for the night and won’t open. So I’m calling it.

Goodnight and thanks for reading. This one was a real mess.

-c

A Case for Yeeting Pumpkins (or other large fruit) from a Roof.

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Yeet.

As many of my readers know, I have worked at an unnamed retail establishment for almost thirteen years. I do my very best to not mention the name of my place of employment the same as I do not name my spouse or offspring.

Honestly it wouldn’t be hard to figure out, but you will never catch me saying it on purpose. It’s a personal preference and I also feel like they wouldn’t appreciate it.

Especially considering I’m about to complain.

Because I have been trying to convince someone, for ages, to let me YEET A PUMPKIN (or watermelon) FROM THE ROOF.

Yeet.

Imagine the stress relief. Imagine the amusement. Imagine, if you will, the sheer joy that would come with the sound it would make hitting the pavement!

Of course, I would insist on an area where no passerby or pedestrians would be in the way. The back of the building is facing a rock wall. It is paved and people and things rarely go back there. I would lay down tarps or heavy duty plastic myself.

I would even roll up the waste and dispose of it with my own two hands!

HECK I would BUY THE AFOREMENTIONED FRUIT MYSELF.

I just need one or two (or seventeen) good YEET(s).

Yeet.

That’s all it would take to ease my stress, satisfy my curiosity, and

MAKE MY ENTIRE YEAR.

In fact, someday I’ll be old(er) and gray(er). And I would tell my grandchildren: “Retail Establishment let me Yeet a <insert large seasonal fruit here> off the roof. And it was…

And they’ll probably say…

But you know what? I’ve been having a rough couple of weeks, and just creating this post made me laugh and forget my problems. If only for a moment.


Thanks for Reading

-c


Yeet.