So, in November, I was a posting maniac. I was thankful, grateful, waa waaa bullshit, bullshit. Then life just exploded. I won’t go into the details, but there was a series of life incidents that were tough. Life got weird. Life got hard. Sure, I was doing some posting on the social media(s), but frankly, I was just keeping a stiff upper lip and dealing with some crap privately (for once). And I dyed my hair back to what would be the normal color if not for gray. Sigh.

But here it is, 5am ish on Saturday, December 12th, and I am up, with an elevated, iced foot. See, yesterday was the icing on the top of a shit cake that was my life for the past month or so. I was up at 3:45am due to an exceptionally strong dose of prednisone that I’m taking to battle my eleven millionth sinus infection. (This one was verified by yet another surprise nasal endoscopy on Tuesday.) YAY me. That being said,  I was up before the chickens, cleaning the house, actually feeling GOOD. I was cleaning, organizing, doing the house frau thing, enjoying the fact that I was really starting to feel good. I’ll cut to the chase here. In the midst of cleaning my house, I somehow stepped/slipped on a dog bone, tore a ligament in my foot and seriously sprained my ankle. Ya. That is fun. So, here I am, listening to Aretha and Billy Preston, watching my pups sleep and taking stock of this life I call mine. I’m giving an evil eye to the boot that I must put on soon, but right now, I’m just laying in bed, thinking about life.

I am going to, nay need to,  focus on the good, and just move on past all of the crap. Truthfully, no one wants to hear/read it. It’s just life. It happens to all of us. Things happen. Anyways to the things worth talking about:

#1. George the Puppy. Or Jorge. Or Georgie Porgies, George of the Jungle or my favorite “GEORGE JEFFERSON” . George is MY bouncing baby boy puppy that attacks each day with energy, happiness and a zest or quest for trouble. We have good days. We have bad days. Thursday- bad day involving pup on the dining room table. Yesterday, good day with the pup laying next to his broken mama. Weeze loves him (almost always) and I love snuggling with the little man.

The minute I start to cough, he drops what he is doing and comes and lays next to me. He may be a maniac, but he is sweet. It’s been a long two days of cedar

#2. Work. It’s ramping back up and I’m thrilled.  I will not be living in a van down by the river, more over, I’m trying to figure out how to go live BY the river (AuSable) or maybe a lake (Huron) for the upcoming summer with the Dog Jeffersons. It’s a goal, and I figure if I articulate it, I can make it happen. Not a full move, but just a summer relo for a few months. Enjoy some mitten like weather, see my people and not be rushed, drink all of the Tim Hortons I can possibly consume. Life is too short to miss Michigan summers. I want to make some new memories. New adventures. Come home to the land of football and friends in the fall, but summers in Michigan are mine. I want to slide up to the rock whenever I desire. I want to go sit on my parents porch for a few hours, eat the food and then go back to my little place. I crave and yearn for a little bit of home. Not quite ready for full time, but a summers worth might just do me right. This is my goal, and I’m going to make it happen. Now, I just need to find a little rental.

#3. Christmas. Holy hell, it’s almost Christmas. I’ve not yet baked a single cookie (who am I?), but I have managed to crack out my house in typical Griswold fashion. I have not one, but technically, 6 trees decking the halls. A den tree, a living room tree, a kitchen tree, a porch tree, a bathroom teeny tree, an office tree and if I can swing it, the pink nightmare will be up by Friday. So, maybe make that 7? Or should I just make a call to a shrink and discuss my sense of urgency to cover my house in Christmas. I am indeed my mothers daughter. All of that being said, I’ve not really baked or done my normal Christmas mongering, but I have painted… Check this out. My partner in crime, HRC and I decided to paint away the stress. This is one of a series of two we like to call “Cheaper than Therapy, Christmas 2015.”

#4. My people. My people are just good. Whether they are calling to say “holy crap woman, did you really hurt yourself again?” Or dropping off a box of Chicken Express so I can get some food in me to choke down a pile of meds, to having lunch with a friend that I get to happily see once a year. Friends are important to the mechanics of this life. See, in case you haven’t figured it out, I live in spinster like in existence. No man to speak of. Frankly right now, I think I would be a needy hag, and no man would want me. I just kinda want to get things together, and then maybe meet someone who doesn’t suck. That is still a possibility right? I’m not too old for this? I dated a few people this fall- nice nice guys, but something is just not clicking. That’s the hard part. Story old as time right? Either you meet Prince Charming, or you settle for a life less than what you wanted, but you still are partnered off two by two like Noahs Ark. Either way, at the moment, and as of late, it’s just me, myself and I.

Whoa.. that went off the rails a bit huh?

ANYWAYS… I have determined that it is my destiny to have a fat ass. Yes, you read that right. See, the reason why I am so pissed off about my torn ligament (which by the way hurts like a total motha) and the ankle sprain that has been sprained so many times I can’t even see straight? I need to get moving. I need to tighten things up. Yesterday morning, I literally had gotten dressed to go to the gym. I had on the shoes, the sports bra that smooshes everything down, the yoga pants and the wife beater. I was ready, I was prepared. I was going to hit the treadmill after I just did one more load of laundry.

SIGH. I am screwed. It’s the holidays. There is bound to be good food. Right now, I’m hobbling around like a geriatric. I am going to have to low carb it. Meat, veggies, and cheese. ONLY.  Must. It’s the only realistic option to prevent my ass from becoming so large that not even the chubby chasers will want to be with me. I mean, this is logical right?

Side note, the ramblings of this blog might be due in part to pain pills. Just might be.

Bottom line, I’m back blogging, I’m more or less cranky, but it is Christmas season, and that’s fun. I mean, totally normal to be running your A/C because your house is hot in December, right?

Sigh.

Onwards to a Saturday filled with knitting, friends and sneaking off (in my boot, with someone driving) to the Cowtown Indie Bazaar that my friend Julie is running today in Fort Worth. If you are local, you should go check it out.

In the meantime, why don’t you check out my sexy, man attracting pj’s why don’t you? I mean, boys… get ready for this: