well hello, it’s been a while

manifestos August 15, 2021

Well hello, friends near and far. I woke up this morning with an overwhelming desire to write, and here we are. I should be on my writing vacation at this very moment, sipping tea, staring out at the waves of Lake Huron. Instead, I sit in my bed in Texas, staring at my CAM boot.

Wait, what? What happened?

You know that phrase “you make plans and G-d laughs?” Somewhere, out there, someone is having a huge belly laugh.

On July 2, I took one single step, rolled my left ankle and suffered a spiral fracture in my fibula, and broke another part of a different bone. And THEN when I got to the ortho, we realized that my entire ankle joint was jacked up and that was going to need some work as well. So, here I am, non-weight-bearing, 6 weeks and 3 days later. 6 WEEKS of not being able to walk. Oh my actual hell, I miss walking oh so very much. I miss doing things. I’m really incredibly salty that I’m not on my much planned, highly desired vacation right now. The pain is mostly managed (except for this very moment, I’m having some stupid pain shoot up the back of my leg, but whatever.) I am either going to be allowed to walk in eleven days OR twenty-five days. In both scenarios, it’s under a month, and my brain can handle that.

Life happens. A wise woman said to me “it’s not like Michigan is going to fall into Lake Huron- it will be there when you are ready.” Ya, I know, but it still sucks.

It really sucks to sit in bed or my recliner (more on that later) and watch all of my people have lives and do things. Just the simple act of eating on a patio is highly desired by yours truly, but honestly a CAM boot in August in Texas, outside, on a patio, is one of Dantes innermost caverns of hell.

Things I’ve learned during this round of orthopedic surgical hell:

1.) I am a control freak and I really don’t like people touching my stuff.

2.) I do not enjoy having to buy a recliner, even though the recliner gets me out of my bedroom, but that was a $975 purchase that still pisses me off.

3.) One of my dogs will always have a health crisis when I’m unable to drive- last surgery Weezie sprained her ankle and could barely walk. This time around George had some freak thing happen that I’m still processing. He is alive and that’s all that matters.

4.) Despite being cooped up in my house, I can only handle a certain amount of people in my house each day. The number changes as my tolerance changes, but somedays, I just want silence.

5.) I am still vain as hell even though most people aren’t seeing me right now. I want my hair colored, my eyebrows mowed, and a bucket of botulism injected into my face.

6.) My stress is high and I’m dealing with it.

7.) I miss working out.

8.) I miss being in control.

So, there you have it. A brief synopsis of my life. I’ve had a ton of time to think about life and have a bucket full of thoughts to share. Maybe, this time, I’ll write more and actually hit publish on a post?

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if not now, then when?

manifestos February 1, 2021

    Yesterday, January 31, 2021, I lost two women to Covid. These two women were important in the shape of who I am today. I’m just so very tired. I’m so very tired of people underplaying the importance of Covid. I’m so very tired of people finding the grey areas of all things rules associated with a nasty ass highly infectious disease. I’m just tired.

    Last night, I was distracting myself from my own thoughts by texting with a dear friend far away. Ok, California isn’t that far, but whatever. Our words were light and breezy and mostly meant to shake me out of my funk, but I realized as I finally rolled over to go to bed, what the actual hell am I waiting for?

    I have the words “if not now, then when?” literally tattooed on my body. I’ve spent the better part of the past 365 days, like many with my life on hold.

    I’ve waited a long time for other things to happen.

    What the actual feck am I waiting for?

    Life is precious.

    Life is short.

    This morning, I am getting my second dose of the Moderna vaccine and I’m thrilled. To get a wee bit more protection so that I can feel less exposed. I have an auto-immune disorder that would be highly annoying should i get the rona, so I follow the rules. I’m not always a rule follower, but when you are single, living by yourself and realize that you can actually do something to protect yourself, you do what you can do to be safe. I’m both jealous and annoyed with people that have been acting like they are bullet proof.

    Yesterday, two women that I know died from Covid. One had health issues. One did not. One was 47 years old, a damn marathon runner, who never smoked, who was just healthy. She got a blood clot in her lung and now she is gone.

    Covid doesn’t care who you are, what party you vote with, or what amount of privilege you roll around in nightly. There is no rhyme or reason to this disease. Two people one day. A woman who showed me big love and welcomed me into her home when I was a teenager and another woman who was just a goddamn good friend.

    Life is short. Don’t be stupid.

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    What a week it has been

    manifestos January 10, 2021

    As I sit here gathering my thoughts, I have had to check the calendar thrice to make sure that it is indeed only January 10, 2021. I can’t decide if I feel like it should be September or January 2. Either way, we are living in some crazy times.

    A dear friend said to me earlier in the week (or a month ago, I don’t know) “how do people with multiple kids do all the things?” I realized that I don’t know a single person that isn’t tired. Singles, marrieds, struggle bussers, etc. Everyone I know is just bone crushing tired. Tired of all of it. Tired of some of it. Trying to constantly keep all the “things” moving in the right direction. I saw another friend on Friday and I asked him twice “are you actually ok?” He was exhausted. My three-hour marathon call last night was with a friend in the UK as a result of his three-day-long insomnia. He was exhausted but unable to sleep and I couldn’t get my brain to just shut down. I’ve been using the Headspace app to try to slow down my brain throughout the day. Every night, I spend about 30 minutes just breathing slowly trying to shake off the day. It’s a lot.

    It’s a lot for everyone. We’ve been dealing with Covid-19 since March. Here in the States, it’s been a noisy, loud, scary year. It’s just a lot.

    Earlier today, I was trying to plan my week prior to going to a friends drive through baby shower (sorry friend), when I started having a full on meltdown about life, and subsequently passed out cold for at least 4 hours. I woke up discombobulated because, well, it’s January and was dark outside when I finally shook off the cobwebs. I woke more tired than I was when I passed out.

    It’s ok to admit that everything is a lot. There isn’t an award given to the person who lies to themselves the most about everything being ok, perfect, fine. I promise. There is no instant martyrdom for faking it right now.

    This upcoming week, I have to navigate an insurance claim (screw you hot water heater burst), an HVAC issue as a result of the aforementioned insurance claim, work, more work, and trying to get the gumption to take down my damn Christmas. It just taunts me now. My front porch looks like the end result of an inflatable post-Christmas orgy- all of the inflatables that were brilliantly tackying up the front yard, are now currently hanging up on my porch trying to dry off so that I can actually pack them away. 10 ft Santa is indeed face down, ass up as I type.

    It’s important that we are truthful with ourselves and those closest to us. It’s ok to say “I’m frustrated, I’m tired, I’m (insert appropriate feeling here.) We’ve got a mountain of work starting this week- My job is to not only make sure that we do a damn good job, but to keep an eye on my team. What we see on a daily basis is a lot and it’s only going to get more in the next few weeks. Social Media Management is not for the week. I’m not talking about making some fun chit-chatty posts for local businesses. I’m talking about protecting national brands from the ongoing onslaught of keyboard defense lines.

    It’s also important for me to make some time to clear my brain. I got the vaccine a week ago (again, it feels like a year ago), and I’m so close to being comfortable again to go back to my Pilates Studio. I miss that 50 minutes of sweat and stretch and giving my brain a break from any/all screens. I plan on actually scheduling walks this week and a reminder to eat lunch. If nothing, it will give my eyes a break and a moment to breathe (thanks again @headspace.)

    I’m not so good on the non work communications right now. Texting feels exhausting. Phone calls are just hard. I feel like I have nothing to say except “yep, that sucks.”

    By the time this posts, I will be digging into dinner, trying to figure out how to get it all done this week. I have to keep reminding myself, that whatever I get done, will be done and the rest can wait.

    I hope this week is easier for every single person I know.

    PS- if you’ve got this far, please please please enjoy this new little bit of ear candy:

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    Storylines, Willie and Waylon

    random me November 5, 2020

    First and foremost, I’ve recently discovered this song by Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings and I’m obsessed. It was released in 1978, and I honestly never heard it until this summer. I am flat out in love with this song and it’s just about such bad things. Whereas this song is not about storylines, for your listening pleasure, I offer you this little nugget from the seventies.

    Now that I’ve shared with you my latest song love, let’s talk about my thoughts around storylines.

    Definition of story line

    : the plot of a story or drama

    While meditating today, I listened to a session around getting past the storylines that you create in your own mind. It gave me such pause, and here is why: without storylines, what on earth do people think about? I create a storyline for every single scenario.

    I hear a noise in the back of my house and immediately craft a story that some creature has gotten into the house and obviously is starting a new family in my laundry room.

    Someone is late for a lunch appointment? Surely this means that they have run away to have the worlds greatest adventure.

    A guy doesn’t call me back, or ghosts after a few dates? Alien abduction. The end.

    My brain has always created storylines for every possible scenario and I didn’t realize until today, that by doing so, I was creating a false narrative that eventually I would begin to believe myself.

    When you are a pretty lonely kid living away from most humans, you find ways to entertain yourself- for me, I was either rabidly reading anything I could get my hands on, or creating up entire stories in my head.

    Listening to the meditation tonight about not letting the storylines you create in your head become a reality blew me away. Is there a way to stop a brain from creating these narratives?

    Am I the only one who creates storylines? Is this normal or have we finally found the reason why I need to go take a long medically induced nap?

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    Picture this, 2010

    manifestos November 4, 2020

    The world was a very different place in 2010 and I was hopelessly determined that I was immortal.
    I was in my early 30’s.
    Fewer shits were given to just about everything and anything.
    For better or for worse, I now know more and can’t ignore reality.
    In 2010, I still had a pretty monogamous relationship with Marlboro Lights 100. I maintained a lovely year-round glow thanks to the super blast of tanning beds and I am not even sure I knew what fiber was.
    My hair was close to its original color and due to the ongoing consumption of smokes, I was able to keep my ass in somewhat check.
    Fast forward to today.
    I’m researching ways to increase fiber in my diet so that I can increase my protein consumption and not have stomach issues. I care more about fiber than I care about going out for happy hours. Oh, that’s right, we can’t really do that these days.
    My relationship with Philip Morris has been on mostly ice for years.
    Despite the pale white glow of my legs, I can’t bring myself to go tanning. EVEN THOUGH I WANT TO. BIGLY.

    Life just changes. Focus changes. You watch people start to struggle with things and you start quietly adjusting.

    For me? I need to drop some lbs to help get my whoremoans under control. (Spelling 200% intentional.) Estrogen holds fat. Excess estrogen is a pain in the ass and literally could cause big issues. In order for me to lose weight, there is an actual trained medical professional working to help me figure out how to eat/lose weight without making my stomach sad.
    Smoking is bad for my lungs and skin. This isn’t opinion, it’s just pure fact. My morning skincare routine involves 7 different products. It seems stupid to undo some seriously good work on my skin by picking back up one of my favorite bad habits.


    Tanning? God, this is the hardest. I can give up Doritos, Fritos and late-night scooby snacks. I’ve already broken up with smoking. If I were to be completely honest, I would admit that I love the way I feel when I get out of a tanning bed. Energized. Fueled with well, possible skin cancer.
    I’m not planning on going to the tanning bed, but I do miss some color on my body. I don’t want to end up one of those cautionary GIF’s about the dangers of UV exposure.

    Most of the fun stuff in life leads back to cancer and I’m just sick of it. I’m sick of people getting the raw end of the cancer deal. Too many people I know have fought the cancer battle. Many cancer patients have won the battle, but the number of funerals I’ve attended has increased over the years.

    I’ve lost count of the many people I know have actually fought and won the battle. I know how many have lost and it just bums me out.

    2010 Kate was a big selfish asshole. She thought she was immortal. Without limits. Without cares. Treated my body like a legit rusty carnie ride.

    Now, out of respect for myself, and others that I give a shit about, I reign it in.

    Getting older and I guess wiser is not as fun as I thought it was going to be.

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