Saturday, January 28, 2017

Alternative Sweating

I need to say this: It is ugly when two women have night sweats at the same time.

There. It's out there. I feel better.

Same-sex relationships can lead to various challenges of which "not-same-sex relationships" do not face. Case in point: two women having peri-menopause night sweats in the same bed at the same time does not happen to most "non-same-sex couples." Talk about a free water bed. Worse, the night sweats might happen on the same night but usually not at the exact same time. It kind of goes like this:

Me: [feeling the hate of hormones starting to burn within my body and radiating to the surface] "Oh my god, I'm on fire!"

The Wife: "You're radiating heat. GET AWAY FROM ME!"

Me: "I know--I can't stand it! I'm miserable." (Takes off all covers)

The Wife: [with much agitation] "STOP IT! You're uncovering me. I'm freezing!"

Several minutes pass. The flames subside, followed by a sudden chill, probably from the sweat freezing in the low temperature in our house. I get up, change my clothes (yes, it's that disgusting) and thankfully fall asleep.

A few hours pass. I wake up with a start. It's the wife. Her turn. She exclaims, "I can't stand it! I'm dripping with sweat!" followed by "mutter, mumble, mumble, mutter." Off fly the bed sheets, only this time on the other side of the bed.

If we're lucky, both of us burst into flames on any given night. If one of us is going to be miserable, we might as well both be at the same time.


I'm actually glad to be having night sweats because that signals hope that the end of this nonsense might be crawling my way. I like to think all the sweating as a free detox--all those toxins screaming out of the body like lava blowing out a volcano.
******************************
We've just about completed Week One of the hostage situation. I daresay it is going--unfortunately--just as  anticipated. I keep hoping to be wrong but the bus just keeps speeding toward the cliff. Despite this, I keep the faith. I believe every day brings clarity to those misguided fools who weren't willing to listen--those who were unable to digest/recognize/challenge the ridiculousness being set before them. Oh, I'm not talking about the White Supremacy folks--their hate-filled rhetoric and supportive ridiculousness isn't a surprise. I'm talking about the more uneducated-than-not, racist-despite-denying-it, poorer-than-not people who drank the kool-aid... you know, the ones who thought getting rid of ObamaCare was great because they'd still have the Affordable Care Act.

WTH? How did they miss the memo that THOSE TWO THINGS ARE EXACTLY THE SAME??????

Now, they are panicking. With that panic, I feel hope. Every panicking person has the capacity to come to their senses. The warm glow of last week's women's march burns inside my heart, which makes it even sweeter as the tides seemingly, slowly swing. It's painful slow and certainly sad that it had to come to ignorance leading the way but it is turning.

Or, maybe that burning in my heart is just a hot flash in the making. it's kinda hard to tell the difference these days.

I've been keeping track of the buzzwords from the week: Gas-lighting. 1984. Alternative facts. Conversion Therapy. (Dang, I thought we were past that era. Thanks, Pency-poo-poo-platter and Company.) Both fake news and real news are full of the buzz.

I really like the alternative facts thing. It gives all of us so much license, so much leeway, don't you think? We can be as asshole-ly and full of as much shit as we care to be. It's the new American way. You can lie, cheat, misinform, blame and avoid the truth by employing this new tenet. It makes for great Twitter fodder. It's sickeningly
obvious that the people who are in charge of our country are CRAZY...and, yet people of the great nation continue to ride the crazy train.

Seriously. Alternative Facts? Alternative facts are LIES, dumbf*cks!  Call it what your like. That is lying.

Watching the leader of our country drown in obsessive narcissism--consumed with that of which detracts from the work that needs to be done--borders on terrifying and certainly screams of being unfit to hold office. Who the hell cares how many people were in the inaugural audience? Does it matter about losing the popular vote if you won the electoral vote? Who answers a question and then denies answering the question, even when presented with film of the event?

Side note: Now, don't get your undies in a bundle because I used the word CRAZY. I mean no disrespect to those with mental illness. Those who know me know I am fully dedicated to working with the mentally ill. I mean it in the literal sense: THEY ARE CRAZY--deranged, of unsound mind, living in a world that makes absolute sense. It would be an insult to the mentally ill to put these nimrods in the same category. The mentally ill are not purposefully lying, are not gas-lighting, are not singling out populations, not consumed by the madness which leads to the phrase alternative facts. Yes, the mentally ill can be delusional. They can be psychotic. They can be diagnosed with personality disorders. But, this purposeful lying--this purposeful attempt at deceit? That's not mental illness.

That's disgusting.

Yes, strong words from a lowly blogger. I bet you wish I had stuck with writing about the night sweats. Perhaps this tirade is fueled by hormones. All kidding aside, I believe these strong words are fueled by reality, by being awake, by actually caring about the world instead of myself.

I won't stand around and not do anything. There are too many people sitting around just watching.

I have hormones, hear me roar.


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






Sunday, January 22, 2017

Bigly, Terrific, Yuuuuge Marches

Marches. Marches everywhere. Democracy in action. No matter your stance, you have to admit that the show of democracy on January 21, 2017 was impressive.

I was at one of the smaller "March on Washington" satellite marches--only 75,000 persons in Madison. I think that calling a 75,000 persons march says something--the events across the nation were huge. Jaw-droppingly huge.  Yuuuuge! This photo does no justice to the scene that stood before me. The crowd filled the street, store-front to store-front, as far as I could see in front of me and behind me. No pushing. No shoving. Nothing but calm. I loved that so many men were there. I appreciated the diversity. I honor those stood up for what is right.

In other words, "The marches were terrific. Beautiful, terrific marches. No one has bigger marches. We're making marches great again. Non-Marchers? Sad." 

It was very empowering to take part in such a positive, powerful, peaceful show of democracy. I'm sure those busy making America Great Again found the marches hateful, full of looting, fighting, burning, misguided and stupid. Nothing I saw suggested one iota of this.  There was lots of love, support, kindred spirits. Not one thing transpired that could be construed as anything buy peaceful demonstration.

I look forward to hearing stories from friends who attended other marches. We know people who were in Washington D.C., Colorado, Chicago and Vegas. I'm sure we know people who were in Boston and L.A. too, but I can't substantiate that claim yet. (And, I don't make things up, like other parties of which are now in houses of white.)

I suppose it's scary for the bullies to know that so many people can organize so quickly. I know PLENTY of people are making fun of the marches. Not only are they spreading lies (or, as the new administration says, "alternate facts"), they continue the now-sanctioned bullying: "Poor snowflakes, go home and be sore losers somewhere else. Get over it. You lost. We didn't act this way when your [insert horrible word of choice here] candidate won."  

Perhaps I'll start responding to those sad people with this meme. Perhaps that will help refresh their memories.

Who am I kidding? The alternative facts assure all of us that this didn't happen. I'm sure these signs and these protests were only the far left's effort to make the right look bad or racist or hateful.



"Alternative Fact Tweets" are sure to say, "Small marches. Embarrassing for the misguided" or something like that. Hope Mr. Orange doesn't use the word "honor" in his tweets, as he keeps misspelling it, using "honer" in at least ten tweets. So much for that yuuuuge I.Q. It must not include spelling.

I must remain positive. I must remember that our diversity is bigger than their hate. I won't apologize for the comments above but I'll do my best to go high while the others go low.

The weather was kind of sucky but that didn't dampen the spirits. Chicago had sunshine--we had fog, hazy drizzle and low-hanging clouds. It was the kind of weather that those of us who wear glasses hate--spitty rain plays havoc with glasses. I think it was 42 degrees, which really isn't bad, considering it's January. The only time I was even remotely cold was when were standing in mud. Thank god I had my hiking boots on. Those in gym shoes did not survive as well. This photo doesn't do justice to the magnitude of the mud, but you get the idea.

Some marches never got to the mud because there was no way they could even get close to the mud--they were "stuck" in the streets. I felt a wee bit bad for those in the way back, because technically they were supposed to be the "front" of the march. Everything got befuckled and thus the parade started from what was supposed to be the back. Since we were in the middle, it worked out for us, although I think we could have done without the mud.

There were some pretty funny signs at our march, some of which I would never share here--I have one or two scruples left. There were numerous women dressed as "lady parts," which certainly caught attention. I only saw one lady without her top on (which was mighty impressive, considering the weather in Madison during the march). Many signs focused on love, inclusion, diversity, women's rights. Of course, there were some not-so-flattering signs dedicated to our nation's "leader." I won't share those, either. But, I will chuckle when thinking of them.

To sum it up, I say to the believers of Alternative Facts: Bitches get shit done. You have been warned.



Monday, January 16, 2017

Orange March

Oh my goodness, I almost forget about you! I've been busy designing power points for my new very-part time gig as....

...a professor!

Yes, you can now me Professor Addi WP. I've dreamed of this day and now it is here. I'm super-excited about my debut next week. Please pray to the Gods of Higher Education that all goes well as I try out this new adventure.

Today, a rainy-icy-yucky Monday, I asked a co-work how he was doing. Usually, you'd expect a, "I'm fine" kind of answer. Well, not today. He looked at me, brows furled, and said, "I'm dreading Friday."

This gave me pause. Friday? I'm working on Monday and he's already at the end of the week. I inquired what was going on Friday that had him distracted.

"The Inauguration!" he exclaimed.

I felt pretty embarrassed, not realizing that. Perhaps that sums up how I feel about the event. I've made it a non-event in the Addiverse. I won't be watching TV. I won't be perusing social media. I'll be busy doing happy things like scrubbing the dead skin off my heels.

After apologizing for not realizing the inauguration was on Friday, I told him I wouldn't be watching that debacle. We had a little chit chat about what is going on in our corner of the world and then went on our merry ways. (This is the poor guy who put a sign on his door the day after the election that indicated not to disturb him as he was experiencing "post election trauma disorder." He was understandably a hot mess as he is a very political guy and not exactly a supportive of the great orange one.) 

Besides my dead-skinned heels, I've been distracted by efforts to see the World Series trophy in person. I can scratch that off my bucket list, as I was able to do that last weekend. Yes, I had to stand outside in single digit weather for three hours and yes, I had to stand about two hours in a line inside before I was able to weasel my way to the trophy, but I made it. Got my eight seconds with the trophy. Got my picture with the trophy. Bam! Bucklet list success.

In addition, I've been distracted by professional football. I am almost mortified when typing that, as real life should probably trump (pun intended) football. Tell the wife that. She lives for the green and gold. Yesterday's game was very traumatic. I wasn't sure she was going to live--pacing, yelling, bending over, fretting.... thank goodness a last minute kick saved the day and the game. I think football is an awesome distraction. I'm not going to let some cheeto ruin my enjoyment.

Although Friday is "dead to me," I am looking forward to this weekend as I'm taking part in one of the "Women's March on Washington" satellite sites in a town nearer than D.C. It should be a pretty big gathering, so that will be inspiring and reassuring. I'm going with some wonderful young ladies, which will make the event all the more better. I'm super-excited for Three Hawk and Argo, as they are heading east and actually going to the march in Washington D.C. I can't wait to hear about their adventures.

The good thing about marching is that it is a way to take action. It's a much bigger call to action than my FB feed efforts to ensure only happy, positive, supportive, rallying posts now show up. I blocked all the haters. I have no time for the haters. Guess I got tired of being called a snowflake, a sore loser, a purveyor of participation awards. I'm sorry those people won't get to see my March photos. I'm sad they won't get a chance to write stupid things.

Oh wait--I'm not sad at all.

if they were still my friends, I would tell them I march for my cousin of Mexican descent. I march for my friends who are other than white. I march for all women, here and around the world. I march for equality, solidarity and love. I march to support reproductive rights and access to healthcare. I march because I have white priviledge and if I don't march, who will?


Well, I do love a good gathering of wild women. That's a great reason to march. It's been a decade or more since I did something of this nature. Bring on the wild women!

You probably won't hear from me before the Friday event of which I won't be watching, so if you are planning to watch it, god love ya and good luck. Life is short. Friday will bring me ice cream, free time with the wife, talk of the Packers, thoughs of all positive. And yes, I will scrub my heels. I wouldn't kid about something serious like that. I think my Friday is going to be just fine, thank you very much.

I've got a few chin hairs that need attention. I think that's a perfect distraction for Friday and a great way to prepare for the march. I gotta look good. What if I'm the nightly national news?

For the record, I will not be wearing the color Orange. Just saying.

As for the wife, she'll be at home. She's not marching nor will she be wearing orange. She'll be busy praying to the football gods. In her honor, I say, Go Pack, Go. A Packer win will cure anything that ails her, even a Friday inauguration. I know she will be with me in spirit but her actual being will be on the Internet, reviewing stats and watching soundbites.

Good luck Argo and Three Hawk. May your D.C. march be amazing.

Friday, January 06, 2017

Of Mice and Tweets

Exciting news from the staycation. I'm sitting at the local Honda dealer, waiting for them to replace my "puffer," as I call it. You probably know it as an air bag. Now, if sitting at a car dealer isn't fun, I don't know what is. Even better--they are remodeling the dealership and thus I can't even hear my typing. I'm sure the showroom will look amazing but at this point it looks like smoke and sawdust. It's just like being on a tropic beach. Only not.

I'm sitting here with an s elderly gentleman who is being sold services by the service department. I want to scream "DON'T DO IT!" but bite my tongue. Forget the transmission nonsense! Don't let them do those "will eventually need" services. I agree (in my head, of course--besides, he couldn't hear me over the ruckus of the remodeling), he has to get a new air filter because a mouse ate through the current one. At least I can see that (you haven't lived until you've seen an air filter chewed by a mouse) and it is obvious what the problem is. Interestingly enough (to me, probably not you), the guy had brought his car in because of a smell. Turns out it was a rotting mouse. This makes my stay in the waiting room much more entertaining. At least I only need a puffer. He's got a dead mouse rotting somewhere in his car.

Early last summer, I received a recall warning from the car company. Not only did the notice tell me to not have people ride in the passenger side until it was replaced, it noted that I would get another notice when it was time to go get the new, safer puffer. Next thing I know it's December and they haven't alerted me of anything. I've given up on keeping people from riding in the passenger seat (I live on the edge) and I come to the conclusion they are not going to contact me. I call them at the end of the year to inquire of this issue. Result? Here I am, sitting in the waiting room, hoping the installation of a new puffer doesn't take longer than an hour.

I was going to charge my phone using the complimentary phone charging station, but every time I plug it in, the TV goes off. No kidding. I tried a few of the various ports, but every time--bam! Charging on, TV off. Since mouse man is sitting in the same area, I give up and give him the opportunity to watch the news.

Fox News. Perhaps I should plug my phone back in. I'm not exactly sure I can take an hour or more of Fox News.

Usually, my staycations are pretty impressive, quite relaxing and very enjoyable. This one has been a workout of avoiding work. The world of technology has ruined staycations. Actually, I think technology has been the scruge of many a vacation. Unless you are on a remote island with no cell phone reception and no internet access, you are available. I use my personal cell as my work phone--don't ask, it is what it is. Well, my phone has been blowing up, both with calls and texts. It is not like I am a high-ranking official in the company, but you'd think I was the CEO with all the calls and texts. I've checked my emails several times--mainly because I don't want to answer my calls and texts and know that there are going to be emails explaining why people are calling me. This, of course, means I am reading work emails when not at work, which means I am techincally working when I am supposed to be taking time off of work.

This is mine to own. No one said I had to read my emails. But, it appears I have information of which no one else has and thus people are looking for me. I mean, the director HR and the director of services have contacted me, so it's not like people are just asking me stupid questions. I have decided that when we go on vacation this summer, I will not be reading ANY emails and I will figure out a way to block work calls. I'd turn off my phone but need to be able to get calls and texts from family and friends. It's not a vacation if you're working during vacation. All it's done is irritate me, which is the exact opposite of what should happen during a vacation from work.

Back to the car dealership. Since the showroom is full of dust and dirt--no cars to be seen--I can't escape and go car window shopping. Since it is 5 below zero outside (and that's without the wind chill), I am certainly not going to go outside and look at cars. OH.MY.GOD. Fox News is babbling about Hillary and her emails, followed by Eddie Munster babbling as the Head House Guy. I'm going to plug in my phone and I'm gonna tell that guy Fox News is eating my brain, like the mouse was eating his air filter. Now, one of those "animals in torture" ASPCA commercials is on and I can't change the channel, as he's holding the remote. Now I am listening to how using Twitter by the President Elect is wonderful. It works. They see it as "a transparent effort" that the President is able to communicate directly communicate with his people. "It's effective."

Oh, it's effective. It gets attention. It's as effective as inserting a mouse into my brain.

As long-time readers know, my car "screams" when started. I can't wait for them to fire up "Terry" (for Pterodactyl) and thus try to sell me all sorts of things to stop the scream. Little do they know, I like the scream. I am aware of the scream. I've had the scream looked at by my personal mechanic. My car runs just fine despite the scream.

Maybe I should look surprised when they mention it and claim that has NEVER happened before, bellowing loudly, "What have you done to my car?"

No. You know what I'm going to say? I'm gonna open my eyes big as saucers. I'm then going to exclaim, "Oh my god! That guy's mouse must've gotten into my engine! Get that guy's mouse out of my car!!!!"

I will then throw myself on the floor and roll in the sawdust. I can tweet about it when I get off the floor. Can't you imagine the hashtags?
#CarMiceLoveCheetos
#PufferPaws
#FoxMiceScreams
#DeadMiceTellNoTales



Yes. I'm blaming the mouse. This mouse has redeemed my staycation, Thank you, dead mouse. Thank you.
Fox News, read my tweets.
All mice, fear my car.
Co-workers, figure it out.
Pterodactyl, keep on screaming.
Puffer, no puffing without clear puffing need.
Sawdust, be my sand.
#StaycationBlogging, be my friend.

In car dealerships we trust.