Yes, this thing is Still On. Isn't it ridiculous and, in its own way, Wretched that I take so long between posts? I am Retired, and I have all the time in the world. But things have reached...Critical Mass on a variety of fronts, and I just don't Have It to bring.
Why Do I Live Here?
For the past eleventy thousand "Spring" days, we here in NEO have had the following weather in endless combinations: grey, cold, sleety, rainy, cloudy, dark, fifteen-minute periods of sun, hailstorms. I feel like I am in some Puritan torture chamber or waiting room of Hell. There are days when I only get dressed in time for Rick to come home at four-thirty, then rush back into my jammies immediately after dinner, at seven. Even the cats are annoyed by my sloth, and that is saying something.
Is This Irony?
The whole first year of my retirement, my menopause flirted with me. How anxiously I awaited the Cessation Of The Monthlies. After some initial screwing around with me, a trip to the ER, and June's memorable Last Stand which lasted nineteen days, it was finally Over. And then my migraines returned. March and April have been record-breaking. I have, on average now, one a week. My Cleveland Clinic neurologist has tried everything except Botox injections and acupuncture. He is blaming their return on hormones/menopause. I blame everything on it: night sweats, forgetfulness, dry skin, dry hair, the fact that there is no good Chinese food in our town, and Justin Bieber.
What Am I Missing?
How about all these gun freaks go Take America Back and live out in Montana, Wyoming, Arizona, and the Dakotas and leave the rest of us alone? They can have their own country full of assault rifle-totin', bigass magazine-packin', gunshow-goin', no background-checkin' yahoos all walled off, elect Ted Nugent president, and when they get all likkered up on Buds and Jack, they can blow each other's heads off. How anyone--in any party (whether they're up for reelection or not)--can say that the right to own an assault rifle and extended magazines is more important than young lives needlessly lost at Newtown or Columbine or Aurora or anywhere (because people keep shooting people), is beyond me. And I want them all to stop invoking the Second Amendment. These people are not arming themselves with the purpose of becoming a well-regulated militia, or even for defending themselves against an enemy government. If they want to shoot an assault rifle for fun, they can do it with a range's gun. Period. And they can also stop mouthing a lot of fake concern about mental health being beefed up in this country rather than stop law-abiding citizens from having their guns. These are the same people who want to take the poor off of government assistance (unless it's them) and call Obama a socialist. And now Congress will debate whether or not to pass a diluted law requiring some background checks. That's it. It's like ordering steak and lobster and the waiter brings you a fish stick. (Hey, no offense to the Gorton's fisherman,who isn't too bad looking these days, in a Spielberg meets Sam Waterston sort of way.)
What Do I Owe You?
I may as well upchuck all my angst-vomit, once and for all. Cheap therapy, and you know my motto: First, you wallow.
)^( I am locked in a tense and heated battle for the championship in our Fantasy Basketball League. It is between Sam and me. After leading by as much as 180 points, I now cling to the top spot by just 77. The whole thing is decided on Wednesday, with games Monday and Tuesday as well. I spend hours working my team and adding and dropping players to maintain this advantage. It's not fun at this point, but I have to win. Update: I lost. I had a last-minute scratch of Reggie Evans one night, and it was downhill from there. Sigh.
)^( Two words: Cat Hair. I have never, ever in the history of my life as a Cat Owner had a cat that sheds like Piper. It's absolutely astonishing. And goddam irritating. My entire life is covered in cat hair. And both cats are very into cuddling. My clothes, my bedspread, my carpets...it's horrifying. Rick refuses to allow his laundry in the same load as mine because the cat hair is ubiquitous. I got very cavalier regarding the cat beds not too long ago because V-grrrl said she never vacuums her pet beds, unlike me. I used to vacuum them for noisy hours, hating it. But finally, they got so full of wads of hair that I simply threw them out and got new lovely ones that are NOT FLEECE and that are washable. Both cats hate them and will not use them.
Which is how I feel about guns, actually.
)^( The Great Gatsby is coming to theaters soon, directed by Baz Luhrmann. I've seen a few trailers, and I've read a few articles, including one analyzing the themes in the novel and one defending the teaching of the book. I love this book, and I so miss talking about it. Where is my Perfect Job where all I have to do is talk about the books I love to people who want to hear about them/talk about them with me? You have no idea how fascinating I can be. When I'm not whining, that is.
I think I need a Jaunt or Getaway or a long drive to Someplace. I know I need some Spring.