Un-Flashing-Believable

The past weeks have been quite...challenging. I'm going with that descriptor, lest I fire up into a frustration-fueled, diarrhea of the mouth laden asswipe. The stressors continue at a fevered pace. I wish I could say otherwise.  No need for giving "power" to that on this beautiful Saturday morning. After all, it's 65 degrees today when it should be 35 degrees.

Mother Nature didn't get the memo that Spring is at least a month away in these northern midwest parts. I'm all good with 65 degrees in February. That said, do you think Mother Nature will tell the trees and plants not to start sprouting yet? I'm concerned about this. What if all the buds spring forth and then it returns to seasonal weather, with a frigid cold snap? Will all the trees and plants be ruined? Will the forsythia be faced with certain doom? Will the birds fly north too "soon?" These are the things that keep me up at night.

Side note: Here's how I envision Mother Nature (aka Mother Earth) at this time of the year: Cold and snowy, heavy garb, frost on the ground, beauty in the night. Instead, I'm considering if I should wear shorts or not.

Actually, I tell you what keeps me up at night: HOT FLASHES. That's what keeps me up at night. Mother Nature certainly did NOT get the memo that it is totally unfair to "bless" me with hot flashes while eggs are fired out of the ol' ovaries every month. Seriously--I cry foul. I wake up in a swimming pool and curse the being who created this passage of life. If the eggs would stop, I might be a bit more likely to embrace this reoccurring "seeping of the sweat." I try to focus on how this MUST be the harbinger of happier days to come--the day my eggs take a bow and retire after a long, successful journey. That said, it's hard to do. I love you eggs, but it's time to go. You've worked for me over 40 years. That's long enough. You're due a pension, a day at the beach, a quiet night under the stars.

I now have hot flashes during the day, too. My 30 year old co-workers are VERY amused by this. Actually, they are probably more confused than amused. I mean, they are over 25 years younger than me. They are worried about making babies and raising families and drinking fancy beers. They are not thinking about hot flashes. I try not to be obvious but it's hard to miss when I take off my sweater, look miserable, wait a few minutes, put my sweater back on.
Go ahead, judge me, you youngsters who have no inkling of what awaits you. You'll be sorry.

Interestingly, I can now tell the time by my flashing. Yesterday, while sitting on the couch (no TV on, no clock in the room, no way of telling the actual time), I felt the burn begin. I yelled out to the wife, "Is it 7:20 PM?" After a pause, she exclaimed, "Yes, it is! How did you know?"

Mother Earth, Mother Nature, Mother of Pearl, MOTHER OF FRIGGIN' GOD! That's how I roll. My hormones are on a time schedule. It's almost nightly that an episode occurs and it's always at 7:20 PM.

I've been advised to take a gander at black cohosh. I've heard this from more than one flashing woman. I was going to wait until things really got fired up but I'm to the point I want to roll  in a field of this stuff. I assume they want me to ingest this stuff in pill form, not by rolling in and chewing on the leaves ...well, at least that is what I THINK I'm supposed to do. A lady suggested it to me last week while I was in the middle of heat stroke.

I am not responsible for anything heard while in the midst of a flash.

Back to the weather. I love warm weather. I'm not a fan of winter. I'm tickled pink it's 65 degrees out. That said, I could use a little 35 degree weather these days. It's a lot easier to go stand outside for a few minutes than taking off clothes. I have left meetings to go stand outside and feel sweet relief. I smile because it is so delicious. Once done, I go back to the meeting, no one the wiser. I'm sure they think I went to the bathroom.

Black cohosh and unseasonable weather. Looks like it is time for both. 

I gotta get me some older coworkers......
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