Thank You, Kind Souls



For all of you who’ve checked in… For those of you who’ve sent good vibes…


Thank you. Though I don’t yet have a diagnosis of what the heck is so vehemently challenging my well-being, I am under a doctor’s care and undergoing tests, tests and more tests. I expect results will be forthcoming – soon – and I’ll do as I’m told in order to recover.


Your thoughts and well-wishes mean a great deal to me. As far as I’m concerned, you’re all cupcakes!

Change of Scenery



I don’t know what happened. I guess I just needed a change of scenery. And in this case, the scenery happened to be my own head. Variety is the spice of life, y’all!




So yesterday I was driving to Santa Barbara and the sunset was so spectacular, I actually proclaimed – out loud – “Cheese and Macaroni!” Seriously – it was one of the most amazing sunsets I’ve ever witnessed. And it kept getting more and more dazzling, right up until the sun dipped beyond the Pacific Ocean.


Unfortunately, I was unable to capture the true magnificence of that sunset, as I was traveling alone. It is mighty hard to capture a great photo while also operating a vehicle. Go figure.


Still – that sunset was top-notch. The best sunset our dirty air can buy.




The Super Bowl is coming up on Sunday and I am mightily looking forward to the food! The game? Meh. I don’t have a team in this dance (I’m a Lions fan), so I won’t be invested in that way. And with all the hoopla about Deflate-Gate, well, it’s pitiful is what it is.


And now I’ve read a bit about an upcoming BBC News interview with Lance Armstrong. According to what I’ve read, Mr. Armstrong regrets how he behaved during the druggy years, but not the drugging itself. He also thinks he should be forgiven by the cycling world. And those Tours titles that were stripped from him? He thinks he “won” those. Wha?


I don’t like cheaters. I don’t like them in classrooms or in sports. I don’t like them, period. Cheaters know what they’re doing. They know they’re cheating. To say they don’t know any better is bullshit. They do know better. And they still choose to cheat. Cheaters are assholes. Plain and simple.


I’ve dealt with my disappointment in Lance Armstrong. I wouldn’t say he’s dead to me or anything, but I’m no longer a fan. And the Patriots? Again – not my team, so I don’t really care about their poor decisions. But I’m fairly certain I’ll be disappointed in the NFL. I mean really. If they do act, what will we see? A fine? A lost draft pick? So what? Cheaters still get a first-class ticket to the biggest game around. I doubt a slap on the wrist will matter. And when you look at it that way, and when you factor in moral fiber just this side of the fence, no wonder so many people cheat.


What the hell are we teaching kids?

Counting the Hours



Today I see the doctor about my lingering illness and I’m counting the hours until that appointment.


This weekend I realized how blessed I’ve been with health. Sure, I get the occasional sniffles or some-such, but those things are usually short-lived and small in scale. As a gal who exercises, my body is pretty good at fighting off most stuff. And I’m fairly strong – of body and spirit. So when I was sidelined for an entire day on Sunday, I didn’t handle it well.


First, it caught me by surprise. Truly. I’ve been dealing with this crap for a month now, so I didn’t expect to be unable to do anything. I was forced to be still and not get up. Mostly. I think Mister was right when he said I wasn’t being a very good patient.


Second, I didn’t know I’d struggle so much with the mental aspects of being sidelined. My brain was going bonkers, I tell ya. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know how to process. I didn’t know – anything.


Third, I was spiritually beaten by that awful day. I mean it. I felt as if I were somehow broken as a person. It hurt my heart and it hurt my soul. Feeling that way left me crushed. And y’all – that is nowhere near the type of person I try to be, or consider myself to be.


So today is the day. I realize I probably won’t leave the doctor’s office feeling 100%. I know I’m merely beginning the process of diagnosis and healing. I’m okay with that. I just need to take my first steps on the road to Well-ville. The boulevard to Bonkers Town is not taking me where I need to go. Not even close.


Wish me luck.

Long Time No See



This weekend I ventured out to check on the bees. It’s been a while. As it’s winter, their numbers are low. The thing I like about that is being able to see the hive itself. When the bees are working the hive full-force, all you see is bees. The hive is covered in them. But not in winter.


I don’t know why I like these bees so much. Yes, I love knowing they pollinate my food and flowers. But there’s something more. Maybe it’s the shot of Nature they provide in L.A.’s concrete jungle. Maybe it’s their mystery. I don’t know. I was just glad to find they’re still there. And aren’t they beautiful!


“F*@#ing Perfect”



While some of us are obsessing over the upcoming Oscars, movies continue to get made and are released. I came across a trailer for a documentary that is slated to hit theaters next month and I’m already looking forward to it. It’s called “Fucking Perfect” and it’s about chef Sergio Herman and his decision to close his 3-Michelin-Starred restaurant, Oud Sluis, in the Netherlands. As a food dork, I’m naturally drawn to this sort of film. When I watched Chef Herman’s preparation of a small dish near the end of the trailer, I was a goner. Anyone who fails to see Food as Art must be challenged by that dish. And I don’t even know what the heck it is!


But I want it. Yes, I do. And I can’t hardly wait to see this film!

It’s a Difficult Responsibility…



For those who don’t know, I drive an old car. A 1966 Volvo 122S, to be precise. It is uncommon and it is darling. It is also a bit of a responsibility.


When I return to my parked car, be it in a lot or on the street, I often encounter admirers checking out the old gal (the car, not me). And those folks are always, always, always wrapped up in the moment. When they see me approaching, they want to share their admiration for my car. They want to ask a few questions. Some want to share their own experiences and memories of Amazons (the common name for my type of car). They absolutely do not care if I’m in the mood to chat (as I experienced this week while suffering the Blahs). And they’re not concerned with my schedule, either. If I’m in a rush, it doesn’t matter. To them, it’s Car Time.


That’s how it feels to me anyway. And I’ve accepted this. Because at the very least, my old car forces me to engage with human beings. And it forces me to say Thank You when a compliment is paid. I had no idea what I was getting into when I bought this old Volvo so many years ago. But I’ve decided I’m grateful for all she offers. Long may she reign.

Fakin’ It



Earlier in the week at painting class, one of the regulars said something about my being smiley. He said I was always smiley. The smiliest! My response was, “Really?” I was legitimately surprised. I mean, I certainly want to be a smiley gal. I want to be happy, for cry-eye.


Lately I seem to be battling the blahs. I think some of it has to do with my lingering physical junk. Maybe most of it, in fact. And until I get that situation all healed -up, there’s not much to be done. So I’m tolerating these here blahs, y’all, but make no mistake. I don’t like it.


I remember listening to an old Beauty and Da Beast podcast. I’m sorry to say I don’t recall the name of the person being interviewed, but something he said has stuck with me. He was talking about a low point in his life and how he felt unable to pull himself out from beneath the weight of it all. He told how at night, he would try to think of 3 things he wanted to accomplish the next day. Some nights one of the things he listed for himself was to simply get out of bed the following morning. And he gave himself reasonable (for him) goals, so that he could feel some sense of accomplishment. As he began to feel better about himself and more in control of his life, he ramped up the goals. At the time of that interview, he was doing okay.


With that dude’s experience in mind, each night I try to tally 3 things I accomplished during the day. I do this silently, as it’s only for me. I’m not gonna lie to you. Some days my list is made up of things like “I washed the fruit” or “I remembered to put the trash cans on the street.” And as mundane as those tasks sound, I count those little victories. In the face of the blahs, getting through some days is quite an accomplishment, in and of itself.


I don’t know if you’ve ever dealt with your own version of depression or not, so I have no idea if you can relate to any of this. I suppose the blahs don’t look the same for any of us. I also suppose that unless your name is Pollyanna, you can relate – on some level. For that, I am sincerely sorry. Depression is ugly. And I don’t wish it upon anyone.


In the meantime, I’m fakin’ it. I’m going through the motions of my life and doing the best I can. I’m either doing a damn good job, or I’m not as blah-ed out as I think, because a very lovely gentleman told me I’m smiley. The smiliest, in fact. And I’ll take that.




I’ve been working on a creative music project for a few weeks now, and I can finally see light at the end of the artistic tunnel. Ordinarily, I could take my sweet-ass time and finish when good and ready. But this particular project has a deadline – less than a week away – so there’s been no time to waste, sweet-ass or otherwise.


Deadlines aren’t evil. They can be daunting, sure, but for some of us (Me! Me! Me!), deadlines are necessary. Some deadlines incentivize us to earn money. Some keep us from feeling the shame of failure. Some spur us to do basic things like laundry and scrub the toilet, just so we have clean underpants and non-gross bathrooms. I don’t know about you, but I happen to be a fan of clean underpants and clean toilets. So “deadlines” for laundry and routine cleaning are okay in my book.


As for my creative project, I’ll update you on that front in a week or so. I’m still tweaking, but the tick-tock of the clock has done its job in pushing me toward the finish line. And making this particular deadline – which I’m sure to do – already feels like an accomplishment.