You're in luck . . . I've started a new book that I really like. THE WARMTH OF OTHER SUNS. It's VERY long and I hope to finish it by my next book club meeting, but I stand very little chance. So . . . I'm going to make this short and sweet so I can get some reading done. *editing to add: OK, THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN, BUT IT'S MY BIRTHDAY AND I'LL WRITE A NON-SHORT POST IF I WANT TO in hopes that you'll still read it.
A few tidbits about our break thus far:
Christmas light update: I took this photo on Christmas Eve just before Coach and I retired.
OK, I don't really talk like that, but a sweet elderly woman emailed me after she got my parents' Christmas card. She wondered if I'd share my folks' number so she could chat with my mom at some point. She wasn't sure how late she could call because she wasn't sure what time they retired. I love that. Oh, she also asked for my mom's email address. I laughed.
When I responded, I shared that my mom doesn't drink coffee, drink beer, get speeding tickets (proof that I'm either adopted or I take on more than my mom ever did and thus am always in a hurry), use GPS even though it is built into her car, go to the doctor, own a cell phone (and by default won't allow my dad to own one either), eat spicy food, know how to identify an avocado, touch a computer, or have an email address. But I assured her that if she sent my dad an email for my mom, he'd share it with her. Best not to hold your breath waiting for a response though.
We won't talk about how much junk I had to move out of the way to make the above photo a true Kodak moment.
You are looking at some of the lights that have only recently been plugged in. Remember when Lad hung our lights as if he was trying to alert the authorities that a crazy person resided in our home? Or maybe he wanted to tick off the neighbors? Let's face it - it doesn't take much. Anyway, Coach had to do some reconfiguring so we weren't clothes-lined when we exited the deck with Finn. The blue lights didn't make the grade initially. Not sure they do now either, but from this angle . . . pretty.
When night falls, they they appear to be a pretty strange floating octagon hovering in the yard like a UFO about to land. By day they appear to be a makeshift prison as they wrap around the gazebo multiple times in zig-zag, electric line fashion. From my kitchen window though, it just looks lovely. I'll take that.
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Initiative Day:
My favorite morning news program mentioned a Seinfeld episode that I'd never seen. Festivus. Then Nicole (hi Nicole) mentioned it too. Where have I been? Well, unbeknownst to me I copied Seinfeld writers and created my own special holiday. There are no grievances aired on my special day. Just a new approach to life.
I call it INITIATIVE DAY. Thanks to cancel culture, I cancelled Christmas Eve and replaced it with my own self-serving holiday. I insisted that the members of the family JUST TAKE SOME INITIATIVE AND CLEAN SOMETHING OR PUT SOMETHING AWAY.
This worked slightly, but I think they just don't see the mess. They are fine living in it. Looking back at photos from how the house was kept when they were young, I think messy surroundings make them feel comfy. Shame on me. You guys think I'm busy now? Coach worked even more hours back then (Ed and I just tallied it and we think he works about 55+ hours a week currently) and none of the youngsters could drive and few of them could bathe themselves or feed themselves. I might not sleep tonight just remembering. Survival was key.
Because I'm raising wise-asses, the next day I asked Reg to do something . .
Reg: HEY, INITIATIVE DAY WAS YESTERDAY.
Me: YEAH, THAT'S WHY I'M TELLING YOU TO DO THIS THING. BECAUSE I KNOW YOU WON'T TAKE THE INTIATIVE.
Challenge me, will you?
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Boost me up Scotty:
I didn't want to get my booster before Christmas and risk not feeling well for a whole day, or even part of a day. If I go down, the ship goes down. Since I wasn't babysitting this week, I decided to get the shot this week. Impossible to find a same day or anytime soon appointment. I made several appointments but I worried that they'd interfere with the out of state funeral I plan to attend.
On the morning of Christmas Eve, I came across an appointment nearby. At noon. That day. I took it, but later cancelled. I didn't want to feel icky on Christmas. Eventually I found another cancellation, on the 27th. The bummer was that it was far from home.
I went to Reg's b-ball game with Curly. We were half way there with a few hours to kill. We returned some stuff to stores and landed at the Walgreens pharmacy just in time for my shot. I had to pee BADLY, but I didn't want to lose my spot. I stood there while the young girl 'Deb' checked me in. I had my immunization card, license, and insurance card READY.
I stood there. Deb typed. Forever. I have no idea why it took her almost 20 minutes to check me in. For all I know, she could've been sending a personal email. Strange.
When Deb was done, I finally asked if I had a minute to run to the restroom. When I returned, . . .
Deb turned to the pharmacist: OK, SHE'S READY FOR HER SHOT.
Pharmacist: SARAH, CAN YOU GIVE HER A SHOT?
Deb: OH, CAN I DO IT?
Me (to myself): WHAT ON EARTH? CAN WE NOT LET THE YOUNG-UN EXPERIMENT ON ME?
To my great relief, Sarah appeared and gave me the shot. Friends, IT HURT LIKE HELL. I let Sarah know this.
Sarah: OH, SORRY. YEAH, THESE AREN'T THE BEST NEEDLES.
Me (possibly translating her words incorrectly because I was writing in pain, but my internal dialogue said): WAIT, DID SHE JUST SAY THESE NEEDLES AREN'T THE BEST BECAUSE THEY USED THEM YESTERDAY AND HAD TO DIG THEM OUT OF THE DUMPSTER? SWEET MOTHER, WHAT KIND OF JOINT IS THIS?
Of course that isn't what she said, but yikes Walgreens - order up some of the 'good' needles cause the 'not best' needles suck.
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And with that, I'm here as your boosted friend with a sore arm, but NO OTHER SYMPTOMS, wishing you all a Happy New Year full of peace, relaxation, good health, great memories and the ability to move about the world free of masks . . . soon (?) I thank you for reading my posts and I applaud you if you are the commenting type.
It's my birthday, so hit me with some comments. Maybe you have a favorite post you'd like to remind me of or you have a request for a post I have yet to write (if you say shorter, I will appreciate the sentiment but not necessarily oblige . . . I'm long winded in real life too, just ask Delilah).
I don't really feel like I properly celebrated my 50th last year, and I have no real plans to do anything extraordinary today . . . so fingers crossed that one day we can gather at my 'Bridesmaids-esque' destination, girls-weekend-away birthday. I know that'll probably never happen, but bitches can dream on their birthday, right Kari? I'm off to try to read in bed (I'm drafting this a few days in advance), but I stayed up too late and will likely fall asleep before I get through a page.