Sunday, December 27, 2015

Adios Twenty Fifteen.

Twenty Fifteen. Come and gone in a blink of an eye. It ends with unseasonably warm weather--so much so that some spring plants are popping up here and there....

...I hope Mother Nature is not storing up for a stupendously cold and blizzard-filled January and February 2016. That would be just plain rude.

I'd could write a rhyming poem, but I think I'll write an ode instead.
I could look back at my FB page and check the year's blog posts, but that would be cheating. Off the top of my head, I pay homage to the year as it closes.
I am grateful to have so much positivity flowing through our lives.

Twenty Fifteen.
A prime-numbered birthday age for both me and the wife.

A quietly fabulous year.
Not flashy, not mundane.
Balanced in such an adult-like fashion.

The blog's ten year anniversary.
A new tattoo.
Three trees removed.
A to-be teacher-now graduate house guest.
A dog no more....
....a suddenly pet-free house.

Two Doctor Who-related conventions.
Four baseball stadiums.
Blurry-eyed Netflix binges.
A trip to the Mecca for a Green Bay Game.
I thought the Cubs were going all the way...
....just wait until next year.

More cheesy wiblets.
Less house projects.
A new iPad for the wife.
A trip to Gluten Free hell for me.
An android purchase...
...I secretly lust an iPhone.


One kick-ass regional professional presentation by the wife.
She's a physical education pedagogy rock star.
One crappy state-wide professional presentation by me.

At least I got to wear one of my suits that are collecting dust in the closet.

Lots of health and happiness.
Lots of laughs.
Lots of family cheer.
One naughty elf.
Friends, oh the friends!
Food, oh the food!

A good year, indeed.
Of nothing to complain.
Of nothing to whine.
Of much to embrace.
Of much to celebrate and reflect.

I hope you, too had a fabulous year.

I wish you a very happy, healthy, boisterous-to-your-liking 2016.

Elf.Out.

Schaddi headed back to the North Pole, not a moment too soon. It was exhausting having him around. Those who followed him on FB are fully informed of his antics over the past month. For those not in the know, I sum up his visit with a few photos. I'm going to need a lot of therapy to get over his visit...

He almost got me fired....

  He went out boozing with our friends...
 






He stuffed his face with sugar.... 
 














We won't even talk about this bizarre incident....
 



















But, in the end, he behaved well enough to attend Eldest Niece's graduation.....

 












....and, with the Christmas-timed Full Moon, he found himself ready to return home for the year.....
 











Schaddi the Evil Elf off the Shelf has left the building. Deuces.

Sunday, December 13, 2015

Of Evil Evils and Beloved Ice Cream

I took this photo right after Thanksgiving, hoping to use it as the holiday drew nearer. I had no idea that Freckles wouldn't be around before I got to use it. I'm so glad to have taken the photo. Schaddi loved Freckles.

It was a quiet week in the Addiverse. Thankfully, Schaddi the Evil Elf off the Shelf was laying low, which led to a much quieter week on the holiday horror front. Sadly, being a no-dog home left it a bit emptier, much quieter and rather confusing. We're adjusting quickly--but understandably find ourselves looking for the dog, whether it be to carry up the stairs or to plop on the couch, take outside before going to bed or to put in the car to go for a ride. Navigating the house is no longer an obstacle course--not having gates block both sets of stairs is quite the concept. It gives the house a different "look." I didn't realize how the gates had become part of the landscape. Yesterday, I almost said aloud, "I'm gonna take Freckles for a ride to the ATM," but at the last milli-second remembered there was not a Freckles to take anywhere in the car. Instead, I let out a sigh and went to the ATM all by my lonesome.

I'm glad Schaddi the Evil elf and Eldest Niece are around. They take the sting out of loss without even knowing it. The holidays and end of semester have kept the wife distracted and I've stayed busy consuming naughty lunch time food products, fueling a sugar-filled serotonin buzz. Dang, I have to start taking my lunch to work lest I burst into a ball of sucrose flames.



Speaking of food, the gluten-free experiment continues. I swear my goiter has gotten bigger since starting this endeavor. Perhaps it's just firing up as it heals. Perhaps it is searching for all the gluten it is missing. Perhaps it is, as MJagger suggested, that my skin is "thinning with age" and thus it is easier to see. (Thanks for nothing, MJagger. You just wait until you are my age. We'll see how your throat skin looks.) Last weekend, I was talking to someone who also has Hashimoto's. I was babbling about being gluten-free in effort to address my goiter-ness. She indicated she, too had Hashimoto's and had made great strides in her treatment, no longer on as many thyroid replacement meds.

Her answer?  "Cut out the dairy."

Stunned. I was stunned into silence. I stared at her, mouth hanging open in a most unattractive manner. She said, "You're going to have to give up dairy. I avoid dairy. It makes a huge difference."

I'm very proud of myself for not slapping her.

Turns out she is seeing the same doctor I am seeing. Her healing endeavor focuses on no dairy while mine on no gluten. How this can be, I do not know. But, I do know that I WILL NOT be giving up ice cream.

I've avoided gluten like the plague. I've added things like quinoa and flax to my food regiment. I use almond milk. But, I draw the line at dairy as related to ice cream.

Dairy is often involved in chocolate, so I guess I do consume vats of "hidden dairy" on a daily basis. But, ice cream? 

NO ONE messes with my ice cream.

I voiced my concerns about not consuming dairy, stressing my love of ice cream and chocolate. She replied, "have you tried any of those frozen coconut ice cream-like products?" She went on to comment on how there are lots of good non-dairy ice cream-type products on the market.

I am REALLY PROUD for not slapping her after such sacrilegious comments.

Seriously! Frozen non-dairy "ice cream" products ARE.NOT.ICE CREAM. Have you ever tried them? Oh dear god. An expensive waste of money. The texture is wrong. The flavor is wrong. Everything is wrong. It's not even enjoyable.

I avoid gluten. I am meat-free. I don't drink pop. I don't drink alcohol. I don't drink real milk. I eat chocolate with the highest percentage possible. I don't smoke. I wear my seat belt. I pay my bills on time. I take my shoes off when I come in the house. I don't use glitter on the premises.... how much more can I do???

I will NOT give up ice cream. I'll eat frozen yogurt when possible but I will not give it up.

We are already undergoing much change. I don't have time for such nonsense. Not having to come home for lunch, not having to come home after a certain number of hours, not having to give the dog eye drops four to six times a day, not waking up in the middle of the night to let the dog out is a whole new way of being. Change permeates our lives. I don't have the interest or energy for another change, especially of which requires dairy to leave my life.

If push comes to shove, I will drink my coffee with some non-dairy almond/soy/coconut/buttever product. I'll even eat cocoa out of the can.......

....but, you can kiss my cheesy-wiblet butt cheeks if you think I'm gonna give up ice cream. Like they say, "without ice cream, there would be darkness and chaos."

I didn't say it. I bit my tongue until it bled. I wanted to tell that lady what I was thinking, but I didn't. The baby Jesus must have intervened. The words fought to spew forth, but I prevailed. I so wanted to scream:

"I will send Schaddi the Evil Elf off the Shelf to harm you if you ever make such a sacrilegious comment again, bitch. That elf will find you. That elf will take you out. Don't mess with me, my goiter, my ice cream or the elf." 

Instead, I gave her a half-smile and took a bite of my gluten-free bun. Give up ice cream, my ass. Sheesh.

Doesn't she know that ice cream is duct tape for the heart?

**************************************************************************************************


 






Sunday, December 06, 2015

Honoring Freckles

Before you start reading, rest assured this is not a maudlin account of a dog's life lost. It's a salute to the tenacity of one special party pup. Get past the two sentences and you'll be fine.

For those of you not in the know, Freckles Warrior Princess--a 15.5 year old shih tzu/llasa apso mutt--moved along this weekend. Call it what you will--suffice it to say, she's moved on, gone to terrorize Lucy in a much bigger dog park than those found here on Earth.

Freckles was always in charge. She demanded other dogs bow down in her presence. Despite many training efforts and obedience interventions, she always stood bigger than her actual stature. How she didn't get ripped to shreds by bigger dogs, I do not know. Most dogs cowered when she snarled her lip and growled in warning. Some dogs peed on themselves after rolling over in her presence. She had power and she knew how to assert it. More than once I had to intervene when she voiced her vibrato. With her regal dignity emanating from her furry being, she made it know she was not going to share her throne. Gotta love that tenacity as long as no fur flies and no muzzles are required.

She lived up to her breed. The Llasa is known for being "one of the hardiest, toughest, and strongest willed of all the small breeds. It is said that "when a Lhasa Apso looks in the mirror, he sees a lion." That couldn't be more true. She roared. Little? She wasn't little at all. Frail? Not a chance. She was aristocratic, strong and stubborn up until the very end.

Freckles was loyal beyond measure. When the wife was down for the count with her horrible back woes, Freckles refused to leave her side. The photo here shows Freckles protecting the wife as she lay in pain, ice pack on side. The face says it all: Leave my mistress alone. I'm not leaving. She suffered no fools gladly. Llasa apso and shih tzu breeds are known for being guard dogs. She made the breed proud. Oh, how we would dread when someone would ring the doorbell--the guard dog in this little lion came roaring out.

It may have appeared Freckles only tolerated Lucy but in reality, Freckles was all about protecting her. It was one of FWP's most admirable traits, but it was also a downfall, as it did not help in her "need to be in charge around other dogs" way of being. No one was going to mess with Lucy. No one. Truly a protective big sister. Bullies, beware.

Freckles was gifted in the field of psychiatry. When I would take her to work, she'd be-bop between people, giving love as appropriate...then, suddenly she would screech to a halt, right at the feet of a client. Incredibly (or not). she could sense if someone was psychiatrically decompensating. She would back away as if to take a longer look, no frolicking to be had. I'd make a mental note of her diagnosis and follow up later, as she was right 9 times out of 10. If she pointed someone out, they usually were indeed starting to decompensate. Thanks to Freckles, I was able to secure additional supports for several clients before I would have ever noticed they needed it.

Of course, this intuition put a damper on her therapy dog status; after all, she was backing away from the folks who might most benefit from a furry friend. Ah well, she didn't really like the therapy dog gig. She wanted to pick people on her own terms, not mine. Her therapeutic interventions were just "different" than the traits needed to serve in the traditional capacity.

Freckles was stoic, stubborn and really hard to potty train. Oh, that potty training! I swear she would look at us and say, "I'll pee where I want to, bitches."  While Lucy was happy-go-lucky, all laughs, energy, simple and potty trained in a day, Freckles had a mind of her own. Perhaps she was too smart for her own good. She learned tricks in a matter of minutes yet refused to fully comply with potty training for many, many months (as proven by the condition of our rug). Perhaps part of that was my fault as I tried to teach her to ring a bell when she wanted to go outside.....

Instead, I taught her to ring the bell when she wanted a treat. Smart dog. She knew what she was doing.

Freckles had a lot of health problems; in fact, it is a miracle she lived as long as she did. (I'd like to credit all the organic, expensive food she ate along the way but it was probably her stubbornness that kept her around.) Here she is, showing off her cast after she ripped off one of her nails, thus requiring surgery. She heeled on the brink of death a few times while traversing this life. I've got the vet bills to prove it. I finally had to have a talk with her during her brush with death at age 10, I explained this had to be it--no more giant medical interventions, I told her I would do what I could, then gave her warning that she needed to get her act together. I ended our talk by telling her she would have to live until 16 years old for me to get my money's worth.

She almost made it, god love her. Not only did she strive to give us those six additional years, she did it without costing us more than the annual things all dogs need. Now, that's a loyal, determined dog.

In the end, Freckles morphed into a lumpy, crusty, rather smelly, hard of hearing, mostly blind crumudgeon-flavored of a dog...but, she still triumphed in the world, remaining regal, loyal and stubborn until her time ran out. She wanted to make it to that "fourth-last Christmas," but her body had other ideas. Freckles made sure she didn't miss a meal, a treat or a car ride. She proudly demanded to go "out" when it was time. A Queen does not piddle in the house (well, unless said Queen wants to piddle in the house). She continued to guard the house when we went to work, facing the deck as if to say, "I dare you to try and get it."

I'm smiling as I type, as I'm so glad this dog came into our lives. The memories may squeak out my eyes every once in awhile, but they are happy squeaks. Thank you to a most wonderful warrior of a princess pup. We will alway cherish memories of you ruling the palace.

Sunday, November 29, 2015

Flashback Number Four...still in 2006



The Addiverse is celebrating its ten year anniversary. In honor of this blessed event, I’m posting links to early blog entries which have zero views. From now until December 31st, I’ll post links to old blog posts. If you are so moved, please click on posted links as they appear. They may not be the best entries every written but they are sad and lonely, so please consider helping them. The Addiverse professes its love for you. Kiss kiss. 

Thursday, November 26, 2015

Elved. Shelved.

This year, holiday happenings are livening up in the Addiverse... all because the wife opened a box of....

.....holiday elves.

OMG, I hate those things.

The wife's had these elves probably as long as she's on the planet. She's got a whole pack of them. They give me the creeps. They aren't cute like the new Elves happen to be. They look creepy, conniving, dangerous. Smirky. I mean, look at them. They are up to no good. No, no, no good.

Those of you who are FB friends have had the pleasure of meeting the head elf, so the photos will not be new to you. But, do you know the story behind the whole Elf on a Shelf thing? I learned of it a few years ago, as MJagger's kids got their own elf....

This elf shelf thing, supposedly a most wonderful tradition of which I didn't hear about until a few years ago, requires a "scout elf" to hang out at your house during the day and take notes on who's naughty and who's nice. The elf then zips back to the North Pole every night to update Santa. In the morning, the kiddies get out of bed and look for the elf, as the elf has obviously moved during the night. This kind of freaks me out. Magical elves in the house, staring at you, taking notes. This can't be good, no matter how benevolent the elf might be.

There are rules to the elf thing. The Internet is full of stories about elf antics....and, also about parents on the brink of divorce over the elf thing. You have been warned. I told you they are evil. So, what do you do?

1. Put the tree up (or, at least wait until Thanksgiving) before allowing the elf to surface. Some people say "no elf before December 1st." Hell, it's your elf. Do as you wish....but, it's suggested that the elf doesn't show up until after the Christmas Tree is up. The elves are busy making toys before Thanksgiving. They can't be flying back and forth to the North Pole until after Turkey Day. Besides, do you really want to move the elf EVERY.SINGLE.DAY from Thanksgiving until Christmas?
2.In preparation for the elf's arrival, the parent(s) spend money to buy an ugly elf (or, dig out the box of evil elves from the basement). If you're spending money, you can get a light or dark-skinned elf, boy or girl. (That's their description, not mine. As the wive's elves are from the 1960's, they are all white males. Times have changed at the North Pole since then. You are warned: In a move of marketing genius, you can go on line and register your elf or go to the adoption center. You can also buy a DVD, a coloring book, a reindeer or even a birthday elf. Various elves have various outfits. It's big business, this elf thing. Hopefully, your kids don't know this lest you shell out an even bigger pile of cash for elvish shenanigans.
3. The kids are presented the elf. Hopefully, it's a cute elf, not a scary wife-owned elf. Your kid's gonna need therapy if it is handed one of the wive's elves.
4. The kids give the elf a name. I don't think there are any rules to this but I'm guessing it should be a cutie patootie name, something Santa-approved. Holiday names probably rule the roost but one could use a pro athlete's name, I suppose.
5A. After the elf is released from the box, the kids are threatened--er, I mean educated--that they CANNOT TOUCH THE ELF. It's probably the biggest rule there is. Touch the elf, go to hell. Okay, maybe not hell. Touch the elf and he/she loses his magical abilities. There is nothing worse than an elf with no power. After all, how is Santa gonna get his reports if you elf is no longer magical?
5B. The elf is not allowed to talk or move during the day. The elf has to play by the rules, too. We can't have elves flitting about the house all the time. It's bad enough they have to move once a day. No need for running commentary from your house elf.
6. The parent(s) and/or kids read the book that comes with the elf. (Old school elves have no book. Read something else. Tell tales of Terror.)
7. Every morning, the kids look for the elf, who has moved in the night. He (or she) might be hidden or he might be in plain sight. The elf moves because he's been gone for the night. He might or might not have gotten into some shenanigans. Smart parents keep it simple and just move the elf. Start getting creative and you're only upping the ante. That's a lot of pressure. NOTE: Parents, DO NOT FORGET TO MOVE THE ELF nightly. If you forget, you'll have a lot of explaining to do.
8. The kids CANNOT TOUCH THE ELF. Did I mention that already? DAMMIT! DON'T TOUCH THE ELF!
9. On occasion, the elf leaves the kids a letter from Santa OR prints out a elf report OR does something of the written kind to let the kids know the Santa is up to date on all happenings in the home. This can come in handy for keeping behavior in check. Please note: if your kids recognize your hand-writing, you better employ a friend to write things. This is serious business

10. The elf leaves on Christmas Eve, as he/she flies back to the North Pole with Santa. You, as the parent, shed a tear of relief.

Now, you know I cannot behave. This elf thing is just too much fun to ignore. So, I am going to move the wife's elf every day. I am going to post the photos on FB because I want people to join in with my fun. I wish I hadn't started before Thanksgiving because this is going to get complicated. I already feel the pressure. Parents, you poor things. What were you thinking?

Let's just say friends of the Addiverse are gonna see a lot of things like this....

















A pooping elf is a happy elf. 

Meet Schaddi--the naughty elf off the shelf. He most certainly sees you when you're sleeping.....you have been warned.

Sleep with one eye open until the holidays have passed.....just sayin'.


Tuesday, November 17, 2015

It's that time of year...people on Facebook are posting for what they are grateful as their status updates.

Although I have not partaken in this way of being in the social media universe, I find this to be a MUCH more productive use of said social media than the hateful political rhetoric going on. Oh dear god, social media is a bloodbath of stupidity and vile when it comes to politics. I've been "hiding" people left and right in an effort to keep my sanity. (I don't want to unfriend them. I just need to hide them for the time being. Just typing that makes me feel like I'm in middle school.) The presidential nonsense is bad enough--add to that the "patriotic" spewing and the posting of "truths" that aren't true in any capacity but serve to "prove" a point....it's enough to burst some internal organ. It's exhausting to see all that negativity in one place.

(I was stunned by the arguing over the "French Flag Profile Photo." I didn't see that coming. I should have but I didn't. Who gushes hate over a simple gesture?)

For the record, I am especially tired of seeing the word "libtard." Anyone who uses that word is being hidden until further notice--they have earned it. Seriously. You can't come up with a better way to voice your opinion than use this derogatory term? It doesn't matter your political status or belief--all sides seem to be focused on being right--but libtard? Really? You can do much better than that.

This is why I stick to posting about poop. Poop may be sophomoric but it isn't full of hate or judgement.

Everyone poops.

Of course, I can avoid social media and for this I truly am grateful. No one is holding a gun-lobbying gun to my head to scroll down the page of social media. I keep going back to see fun things, happy things, even braggy things....photos of beloved pets and family and that new tattoo... game scores and favorite song videos.... photos of what it looks like when you don't shave for the month....

.....but, now that the old folks like me have taken over FB, we've ruined it. FB is often ugly bantering, not happy puppies. Oh my goodness, we are a crabby lot! No wonder the youngsters are flocking to other social media avenues.

Face it--we are sinking to the lowest common denominator. Stop it! Stop it now! We really are MUCH better than this. More puppies, less fake data, people. Why do we believe the fake data? Why do we take everything for granted? People in other countries are stymied by the hateful things continually posted about our President. There isn't a shred of respect left. I have to agree.

Because I agree, that probably means I'm a libtard. 

 Sigh. When did having respect, no matter the political standing, become a bad thing?

So, instead of wasting my brain cells and blessed time on hateful rhetoric, I am going to focus on all that gratitude being shared. I'm going to celebrate those who are using the thirty days of November in this manner. I don't care of what they are grateful. I'm glad they are grateful.

Heck, I may start posting daily gratitude statuses (stati?). Take that, political ranters!

If people need to post something political as their status update, so be it. I suggest they be grateful they live in the United States and say so. No need to hate--just love our country. Be ecstatic that you have the freedom to post whatever you need and want to post...and then, be grateful, not hateful. Utilize your freedom to focus on the great things we have.

Why divide when we have so much for which to be grateful?

Be grateful you poop. There is not much worse than not pooping. Be grateful you are not constipated. If you are constipated, be grateful for fiber and laxatives.  Be grateful we live in a country with indoor plumbing and soft, two-ply toilet paper. Be grateful for food-poisoned-diarrhea because it means you had food to eat... then be grateful you have a cushy toilet in which to expel what needs to be expelled.

Pooping, toilets and toilet paper. See? It is so easy to be grateful.

Crusty old people of FB, please join me in this crusade. We can all play nice in the sandbox for the remainder of November. Say thank you when you flush that toilet. Give thanks when you see those game score posts and the fifteenth photo of the new grandchild. Smile when you read what others are grateful for. Post something positive.

Refrain from the hate. Focus on the great.

Be thankful when I express my gratitude for the comfort of an indoor toilet. Shake your head with a smile on your face when I post about another poop product. Realize that I know what I'm doing when I post sophomoric bathroom humor and recognize the gratitude behind it (pun intended).

Toilet paper. In bulk. Two-ply, stock-piled for use whenever it's needed.

Yes, indeed. Super grateful.

Friday, November 06, 2015

Blogging the Vlogging

Last night, I watched almost three hours of video blogs--or, vlogs as they are known. (Blogging is so old school. Sigh. I'm always a day late and a dollar short.) I hadn't planned on doing such a ridiculous thing but I got sucked in and before you know it, three hours had passed. My original intent was to watch a specific video on the TubeoftheYou and then go be productive (like do laundry). Well, the video-verse had other ideas. Soon, I was watching various vloggers do their thing. I ended up watching a few specific vloggers at length--in fact, I watched two years of one vlogger's efforts.

As you are most likely aware, you can find videos on anything in the TubeoftheYou. Want to see how to polish your tungsten ring? BAM! Want to learn how to install a replacement boot for the stick shift? WHAM! Wondering if it is difficult to replace the screen on your laptop? ZOWEE! I've successfully done all three of those things, thanks to videos from random strangers. Hell, last night's outing on TubeoftheYou was to see how to best groom a shih tzu's face. Seriously. I wanted to trim Freckles' face and felt I could be more successful if I saw someone do it first.

For the record, there are a lot of shih tzus getting groomed on TubeoftheYou. Most of the shih tzu's looked happy--some were even waggin their tails. Too bad Freckles wasn't watching along with me--she could have seen how happy she should look when I am sticking scissors in her face.

Once I figured out that I was indeed trying to groom Freckles' hair the proper way, I moved on to the vlogs.One thing led to another. Damn them for making suggestions of what I might want to watch next.

Overall, the vlogs were entertaining but not Oscar-worthy (or, whatever award they bestow upon vloggers). Most had no redeeming value beyond entertainment (a familiar tenet) but the whole thing was interesting and it was inspiring in many ways.....such as they inspired me to contemplate why I don't vlog.

I quickly came to my senses and realized I am born to blog, not vlog.  There are numerous reasons of which I was easily and instantly able to identify this fact. My most rational thought?

I am not an attractive 20-something year female. (Don't tell anyone.)

I do believe, as is true in most if not all visual media arenas, being young and attractive goes a lonnnng way. Now, I know I was focused on a specific genre which just happened to feature attractive 20-something year olds, so I cannot generalize this across the video-verse but it's safe to say younger and attractive wins views. I'm not sure there is a big calling for not-exactly-beauty-queen-material 50-something year olds.....although I have no scientific data to back up this thought and I'm sure at least three people on the planet would find me humorous. (The wife would not be one of those three people. She doesn't find me as entertaining as I think I am.)

Don't get me wrong. There are all sorts of videos that do not require or feature attractive 20-something year old females. Personal trainers, chiropractors, singing teens, gardening enthusiasts, dog groomers, comedians, pregnant ladies, conspiracy theorists, beauty experts, bird watchers, etc. all have videos. But, the vloggers of which I speak--the infamous and famous--those who are ranked in the upper eschalon of vlog-dom--happen to be rather attractive and young.

Of course, the audience for famous vloggers appears much younger than the audience of which I seek. The vlogger's world is comprised of sound bites and visual explosions. Who has time to read a book or a blog when there are 10 minute videos to be had? The vlogger and vlog viewer are of an era I do not belong, like it or not. I may remember watching the first video on M-TV but today's youth doesn't know that M-TV used to play videos....or, that M-TV didn't exist until 1981. Vloggers seek the audience of the computer, the tablet, the smart phone--any vehicle to the Internet. They do not remember life before the Internet. Heck, they don't even know there was life without cable TV.

And thus, I shall stick to blogging.

Every once in awhile, I check out a vlog from Jenna Marbles, a 29 year old female social-media-based comedian full of swear words and inappropriate thoughts. I find her to be hilarious. She wouldn't be the wife's cup of tea but she is certainly mine. Currently, she has SIXTEEN MILLION subscribers to her TubeoftheYou channel (one of which is me). Sixteen million!!!!! Jenna has a blog but her blog has her vlogs imbedded into it so she's a blog-vlog-grrrrl...plus, her blog has her instagram, Twitter feed and Facebook link on it, so it's an explosion of social media. Can you imagine? This lady makes a weekly vlog, posts it and then gets millions of hits.

I'm happy when I get thirty views.

Now, Jenna's job IS social media, so it is no surprise she's got all that going on and that she gets at least 999,961 more views than I do. She's extremely good at her job--so much so that she is now famous enough to have a wax replica in the wax museum. Incredibly, she's not in the top ten vloggers in the world but she's listed as #17 on the top vloggers list I just googled.

I do not forsee a career in vlogging in my future but I wouldn't mind seeing myself re-created in wax. That'd be awesome.

I'm not sure they make wax figures of bloggers but they should.

So, if you have a few hours to spare, go to the land of You and watch a handful of vloggers. Or, if you're like me, watch some videos on how do something you've been meaning to do but need a visual before trying to do it. Watch a favorite TV episode, enjoy a video from a favorite band, laugh along with a well-known (or, not so well known) vlogger....I just watched a vlog about a vlogger getting a dog. Seriously. What is wrong with me? Four thousand things to do this morning and I'm watching a vlog of a dog.....

All I ask is that you come back to the world of the word and to please stay true to the bloggers. It's a sad and lonely world out there, being the outdated folks that we are. I have a dog and can post photos of her just as well as any vlogger can....stay with me....stay with us, people of print (electronic or otherwise)....

...until they make a wax blogger, we'll need all the readers we can get.
 ******************************************************************************
Hey, I can post a dog video, people.....perhaps I shall make a video about how not to groom a shih tzu. Until then.....

Freckles Crawl








Tuesday, November 03, 2015

Flashback Number 3....



The Addiverse is celebrating its ten year anniversary. In honor of this blessed event, I’m posting links to early blog entries which have zero views. From now until December, I’ll post links to old blog posts.  If you are so moved, please click on posted links as they appear. The Addiverse professes its love for you. Kiss kiss. 

Just in time for Thanksgiving (one of my favorite memories):
 http://addiwp.blogspot.com/2006/11/great-turkey-disaster-of-1996-as.html

Also in time for Thanksgiving:

Because I have fabulous hair:

 Because sometimes we must reflect on things:

Saturday, October 31, 2015

Pop goes the soda!

I am soooooooooo proud of the wife....she gave up diet pop three months ago and has stuck to it. This is quite the momentous feat, considering she has been drinking diet pop her whole life. I never thought I'd live to see the day she would cease consumption of her beloved Golden Arches Diet Coke. She loved that stuff almost much as....... her car. (You didn't think I was going to say me, did you??) In fact, she insisted it must have cocaine in it because it was sooooo good and sooooo addictive.

I've been bitching about diet pop for years on end. I stopped drinking pop (or, do you say soda?) in 1997 and have never looked back. I had been seeing this holistic health lady and she said the diet pop had to go (that, and the mercury fillings in my teeth). I thought she was nuts, but I did it anyway. I owe that lady a huge thanks because those simple changes were quite helpful in the health department. (Bonus points for my teeth look better because there is no silver poison shining through my pearly whites.)

The wife had been feeling constantly achy and ridiculously lethargic with nary a reason to be found. Insult to injury, she was unable to lose the weight of which she had slowly gained over the past few years.

I'd like to say I was her motivation but I had nothing to do with it. The scale was the ultimate motivation. One day I heard a terrifying scream from the basement, home of the scale.

That was the end of diet pop.

So, she went cold turkey. She "enjoyed" a day or two of what I considered horrific and understandable withdrawal symptoms and didn't get off the couch for a day or two. She had a massive headache and was not in the cheeriest of moods. Still, she hung in there. Caffeine be damned, she gutted it out. She kept her eye on the prize: remaining diet pop free. The specific prize the eye was on? One bazillion less chemicals filling the wife's very being, with a side of being less achy and lethargic. Losing weight would be a delicious bonus.

Guess what? The wife is no longer achy, feels more energetic, is not as hungry as she used to be and......she's lost almost ten pounds.

What a woman!!!
I ooze with pride and gasp in wonder. Seriously, this is big stuff in the Addiverse. It's like me giving up chocolate.


Now that she has gone three months, I felt it safe to interview her on her successes.
Here's the official transcript of my interview with the diet-pop-free grrrrrl:

Me: Do you say pop or soda?

The Wife: "I guess I say pop now."

Me: Huh?

The Wife: "I used to say soda until I moved here." (Insert scoff at the flaterlander way of saying soda.)

Me: When did you start drinking diet pop?

The Wife: "I've basically drunk it my whole life."

Me: Why? (Barbara Walters has nothing on my interviewing prowess.)

The Wife: "Calories."

Me: What did you like about diet pop?

The Wife: "I liked how it tasted and how it made feel--the caffeine. It was a pick me up."

Me: What was it about McD's Diet Coke that was so special?

The Wife: "It was clean and crisp tasting." (Seriously. She said that.)

Me: What motivated you to quit diet pop?

The Wife: "Stepping on the Scale."

Me: But, it's diet pop. How did that tie to the scale?

The Wife: "Because I knew I had to do something more healthy. And, I've heard people said they'd lost weight after giving up diet pop."


 Me: What else have you changed?

The Wife: "I'm taking my lunch to work instead of going out so much. I'm not eating after dinner."
 
Note to readers: she's never been a big after-dinner eater. I've always been impressed by that. I need a snack. Or, two.)

Me: Do you miss it? Diet pop, that is.

The Wife: [emphatically and without any hesitation] "No." 

Me: Do you feel differently now?

The Wife: I'm not achy anymore. I'm not as hungry anymore. I overall feel better."

Me: What are you drinking instead?

The wife: "Carbonated waters and juices. Water. I dilute the juices with water."

Me: What's next on the agenda?

The Wife: "Move more."

Me: I hope you mean exercise more and not move to the land of soda.

The Wife: "Going for a walk."

I like it. No need for unnecessary pressure of a formal game plan. Take it as it comes. One walk at a time, Sweet Jesus.

There may or may not be correlation between giving up diet pop and losing weight; the jury is still out on that in the scientific world. I've seen it enough times with my own eyes to vote that there is weight loss when stopping diet pop. Eating brown bag lunches certainly added to the wife's success but I believe the diet pop was the catalyst to her journey of wellness and weight loss.

Lest there be any sad, bad feelings in the Addiverse, please know that I judge no one for their love and consumption of diet pop. Most of our friends love diet pop and that's all good with me. Heck, I drank diet pop from 1970-1997, so I have no room to judge anyone. (Tab. I drank Tab. What a delightfully awful product that was! And, what a great pink can.) I'm just glad the wife is no longer drinking it. She is an inspiration.

If she goes back hitting the soda bottle, so be it.... but, my money says she won't. She's an incredibly dedicated person when it comes to making a change. She says something, she does it. The wife puts her money where her mouth is. Mess with her, if you dare....but,

....I wouldn't mess with her. She's energetic and lighter. My money is fully on her.
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Sunday, October 25, 2015

Beaming and Binging

For those of you who are part-taking in the "ten year-zero-views" project, I hope you are enjoying the opportunity to read posts that have few if any views. I know I've enjoying flashing back. I've embraced this project and am updating all sorts of things, most of which I'm not re-posting. I can't leave the less-than-fabulous posts out there for anyone to see.  

I've noticed a few things about the decade-old posts: 

(1) Many are super-dated; in fact, it is almost mind-boggling how much things have changed in such a short time. To my 20 year old nieces, ten years is an eternity. To me, it seems like yesterday...only yesterday is a whole lot different than today. Who knew?
(2) Many blog posts don't stand alone--they don't make full sense without reading previous blogs. That's good and bad. I'd prefer they stand alone--like a good trypic in art, the three paintings work as a whole yet can still stand on their own. So, as I re-work them, I am designing to be stand-alone. This effort won't solve world hunger or win a Pulitzer but it will make me feel better about my electronically-shared efforts.
(3) The older posts tend to be shorter in length and more frequent in post, as I used to write much, much more frequently. I think it's a sign of good mental health that I'm writing less.  
(4) Poop stands the test of time. Lots of poop posts. For this, I am proud. In fact, all of the bodily function posts seem relevant. (Well, define relevant.)

Let's see how long it takes for this post to become dated and irrelevant....
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Between Netflix and YouTube, one can lose days of life without realizing it. A blessing and a curse, this approach to media has left me blurry-eyed and a pound heavier. (Hey, one has to keep up her sugar level while working to stay focused. Snacking is a must.) This week, I managed to binge watch Season One of "Game of Thrones" (gave me nightmares--ugh--don't know if I can watch any more of that show), Season 8 of "Doctor Who" and Seasons 1, 2 and 6 of "Glee." I still had time to go to work and eat but other than that, I did little else. I don't know what inspired this ridiculous way of being but I was moved to not move.

I became one with the couch and stared at the tablet, laptop and/or TV with abandon. 

This binge-watching way of life has become very popular. I often hear co-workers or friends talk about their netflixing over the weekend. I thought taking cell phone photos of everything (instead of staying in there here and now) was bad enough; we've digressed to sitting on the couch for 12 hours at a time instead of walking anywhere besides to the bathroom or mail box. 

The wife does not understand or embrace binge-watching. She suggests I must not have anything else to do. Oh, I do. I have things to do. Such things just have to wait.

Perhaps, from a psychological standpoint, I should contemplate what I am avoiding. But, I really don't think I'm avoiding much of anything. I had an entire Saturday to my schedule and I chose to spend it eating chocolate and watching a mind-numbing amount of electronic visual arts. (Art being a relative term.) I am fortunate to have much less work to do on the weekends--my job doesn't require all the after hours work it once used to require. On the other hand, the wife is ALWAYS working. She doesn't have time or interest in staring at a screen for hours at a time. (Those who think being a professor is a cake walk are wong. Shame on you. The lady is always doing work. Right now she's reading all sorts of dribble about peers up for tenure. I'm exhausted just thinking about her schedule.)

Thankfully, I am now over-saturated and ready to return to the land of the living. I've had suggestions of other series to watch but I can't do it right now. It will have to wait until I build my stamina.

As for cell phone cameras....when I go places, I've noticed that everyone is taking photos instead of staying in the here and now. That's why I've been trying to not take photos--instead, I've been actually LOOKING at things, living things, enjoying things. My biggest effort in the past month was at the Madonna concert. Every where I looked, cell phones were in the air, pointed toward the stage. I would say at least 75% of those in attendance spent their time watching the concert via their cell phone screens. I took a few photos at the beginning and then put my phone away.

I allowed myself to be immersed in the happening.  If I can do this, anyone can do this. Trust me. I love my phone. I love having instant access to just about anything or anyone. But, living is beyond my phone. Life is out there, not in there.

This phone-beyond-a-phone thing is a permeating phenomenon. The texting-internet-camera phone thing has led to a whole new culture, a new way of being. I see this every day at work when new employees come to training. When I take a photo for the employee badge, I am corrected and told to take the photo from a bit higher perspective--meaning like how one takes a selfie. "It makes you look so much better," they tell me.

So, I take non-selfie selfies. 

The photos don't look any better to me but they look a billion percent better to the employee, so I go with it. If they don't like the photo I take, I give them an option of taking a selfie and texting it to me.

We have some pretty entertaining employee badges right now.

Soon, no one will talk or even look up. If I were a chiropractor, I'd be licking my chops. They have to be seeing a profound increase in neck injuries, as everyone is always bent over looking at their phone screens.

Don't get me wrong--I just spent a week holding or staring at an electronic device every waking moment when not at work. These comments are not a judgement on anyone.

It is an observation of the world going round and round.

Sometimes, I think about how we are bombarded....zapped....flooded with beams and signals and frequencies and electronic waves.  Every single moment of our lives, we are awash in particles of this and that. I wonder what we would think if we could actually see these things? Would we be terrified, mystified or awe-inspired?

Sometimes, I think my clients with mental illness are onto something. They talk about things being beamed from space into their apartments or into their very beings.... who am I to say they are wrong? It's actually rather true. When they talk about the beams coming from the satellite to their electric sockets or TV or radio, they are actually correct....maybe they can see what we cannot.

Perhaps we should applaud them rather than medicate them. Instead of asking what antipsychotic shoud be prescribed, we should be asking, "What on Earth is all this "stuff" doing to our very beings?"

Counting the niece living with us, we have two routers, at least three computers in use (sometimes, I have my work computer at home and the wife has a work computer, too--so, that's opportunity for five computers at one time), four cell phones, three tablets, and god knows how many iPods. We hook things up via blue tooth and routers. We text, we call, we email, we post.

That's a lot of zapping and beaming. 

I'm glad clients can't come to my house. They'd scare the shit out of me with all the things they'd describe and see.

All this thinking has inspired me to step away from the electronics and actually go outside for a few minutes. Today, I am going to post this blog, turn off (and put away) my computer, stay away from my tablet, turn off my cell phone and not turn on the TV until football comes on.....

That's in 2 hours, 15 minutes. I know I can go that long without any electronics in my life. I may shake and groan a little bit, but I can make it.


My electronics have become unmanagable. But, they will be the powerless ones, not me.

After all, I'm turning off their power. I have the power for them to be powerless. The beams and signals will still be there will be a bit less zapping directly into my being for a few minutes.

Perhaps I can binge read books this week instead of binge-watching anything. As long as it's a real book, not an electric copy, it's all good.

Beam me down, Scotty. You can beam me up later.





Friday, October 23, 2015

Number Two of the Addiverse Rewind: Dating myself



No, no, no--I'm not dating myself. I'm dating myself.
 
These non-viewed posts are fun (IMHO) because they are SOOOO dated. See how much changes in a decade? Sheesh.  Me still running, MySpace, low rise jeans AND the advent of cameras on cell phones. Dated. 

This weekend, you get a "new" blog. Today, you get four rewinds. Is this a great country or what?

The Addiverse is celebrating its ten year anniversary. In honor of this blessed event, I’m posting links to early blog entries which have zero views. From now until December, I’ll post links to old blog posts.  If you are so moved, please click on posted links as they appear. The Addiverse professes its love for you. Kiss kiss.
 



Monday, October 19, 2015

Ten Years of the Addiverse



The Addiverse is celebrating its ten year anniversary. In honor of this blessed event, I’m posting links to early blog entries which have zero views. C’mon, ZERO. I can’t let that happen. So, from now until December, I’ll post links to old blog posts.  If you are so moved, please click on posted links as they appear. The Addiverse professes its love for you. Kiss kiss. 

Week One of the Rewind.... THE INAUGURAL BLOG

Week One of the Rewind…."Posts with No views." So sad.

Week One of the Rewind... Key problems in the Addiverse

Week One of the Rewind... The first post about poop