Sharon Y. Edlin's Blog, page 12

Are You Freaking Kidding Me Right Now?!

Alright y’all, I think I’ve seen and heard it all as of today . . .

I’ll back up  . . .

Before I met my husband, his divorce was surrounded by much controversy, mostly stirred up by the ex, who was not as innocent as she was making herself out to be, although they both had their own part in the undoing of their marriage. There were rumors of cheating, stealing, hired PI people spying on each other, kids being exposed to God knows what, etc.

For a time, our community believed the rumors but as time has gone on and a certain individual has not only dabbled in things not so good for a person’s health and people not so good for a person or their kids, my husband ended up with custody and the other person fled down south for 2 years and then returned much to the unhappiness of my husband and his parents thus undoing a lot of hard work with his kids to make things safe and normal for them again, whatever normal is these days.

Now, there is a whole helluva lot more I could share, but it would just shock you beyond belief at what has transpired even in the 4 short years I have been married to my awesome husband. I used to think some of the stuff he told me was biased and told to me out of disrespect and a strong dislike of the ‘other’ but I’m here to tell you, this crazy ass shit we deal with day in and day out as we watch how it affects his kids so negatively, is real! But alas, just when I think I can sit back and relax thinking everything has calmed down some we are lied to about college, loans, intentions, money, etc. from his child who is caught in the middle of this crap.

My husband feels lied to constantly by both his son and the ‘other’ and it pisses me the hell off to watch how it takes its toll on him. Even divorced it is amazing how that person you fled from can still piss you off so much.

Our fear at this point is that this college kid will graduate from college with so much debt that he will resent the hell out of it, which would have all been so unnecessary had someone decided not to drain the college fund that was set up for all of their kids. I don’t think my bonus son has any clue what the ‘other’ is doing to his future and the decisions that are being made are the dumbest damn decisions I have ever been witness to. My husband has tried over and over again to explain these poor decisions to his son but apparently it is to no end.

Feeling helpless pisses me the hell off and seeing what all of this shit is doing to my husband pisses me off even more.

So what do you do . . .

You keep on praying, you keep your head up, you continue to try and explain that the decisions that are being made are dumb ass, and you hope by some miracle it’ll all end up being okay. God help my bonus children!

To all you blended families out there that deal with idiotic shit, bless you and keep on trucking!

Love y’all!! ♥

Belches, Moaning, Farts, and Pilates

So in addition to my Weight Watchers attendance, I’ve lost 10 pounds in 2 weeks btw woohoo, I’ve added Pilates two days a week, walking one day a week, and biking one day a week. I have decided it’s damn time for me now and I need to take care of me!

Anyway, I go to this gym for my Pilates class and it’s a class I took 100 years ago before life got in the way of my health. The instructor is still there and she is such a lovely gentle woman. Since the last time I have been, she has lost a tremendous amount of weight and I almost didn’t recognize her. Back when I was going, she was having a lot of issues but it didn’t stop her from still teaching her class.

I have witnessed and heard more than I ever expected in this 1 hour and 10 minute class and it cracks me the hell up.

Now, my gym is a wellness center associated with the hospital here in our town so it’s flooded with little ole geriatric citizens and that’s why I like it. I don’t feel like I’m in a damn bar with sweaty meaty jackassholes trying to pick me up while I workout. Or, when I was going to the Y awhile ago, which the kids still belong to and love, sucks because it is too crowded, I have been stalked by this crazy woman who only goes there to talk to people who are trying to work out and are out of breath and then leaves without working out, plus I almost got run over in the parking lot one time by a maniac worker outer who just had to get the parking space that had just freed up near the front door, which makes no hill of beans sense at all if he’s there to work out, why not park out some to get some extra steps in you idiot bad driver pedestrian killer dude?!

Back 100 years ago, I was witness to a woman who wasn’t quite right I don’t think and during class, as she rolled her legs over her head while we were all lying down on our mats, she wet her damn leotard or whatever the hell she had on, all the way through. God love her. Here’s the weird thing, I don’t think it even really phased her as she sashayed out to go to the bathroom I assumed. It was freaking weird!

I’ve heard joints crack and pop from the little Pilates citizens as we moved into different stretch positions, some of them damn loud as hell sounding like something broke! Scared the shit out of me.

Here recently, though, has got to be the funniest for me . . .

So the other day I’m at my Pilates class and I am amazed at the ages among us. One lady looks like she died last week, there was a few in their 70’s, some 50’s, and then maybe 4 of us were in our 40’s. There was this other sweet lady that came in on a cane and I was shocked that she was going to participate with a damn cane in her hand plus, she was really hobbling in, y’all. It was obvious she knew our instructor and mentioned that she was having a rough day while she set her roll and mat up, I thought, “Well, ya think, crazy geriatric citizen but damn, rock on!!”

Well, we get going stretching, strengthening, and really getting at it when I hear a  freakin’ wet as hell belch and then I look over and the crippled cane lady swallows something hard because you can hear the swallow sound. Once done, she announces that she just threw up on her mouth a little on that last one. I have no words but almost lost it laughing, what the hell is that?! Who the hell announces that? This shits real people!

At Monday’s class this week, in comes a new player. He’s this little wise looking Indian dude with gorgeous white hair probably in his late 60’s. You can tell he’s done this before because he busy’s himself getting his stuff together for class and waltzes right up next to me, smiles, and then gets to setting up. Smiling back I think, “What an adorable little fella!”

We start our breathing and stretching and stuff and then start into the hard stuff. Sweet little Indian dude’s little old man butt then decides to come alive. It sounded like damn popcorn popping as he farted through class and on God I thought I’d never rid the horrific odor swirling around my sweaty head. Funny thing was, every once in awhile he’d grunt like it was such a relief. This shit’s real, y’all!

Now, there is this older lady that I had the pleasure of being in the Pilates class 100 years ago with and she is still there, which is quite impressive to me. She’s got to be in her late 70’s at best. She cracks me up with the moaning that will come out of her tiny body when some of our stuff gets hard. She does not hold back y’all and its funny as hell as she bellows and moans her way happily through Pilates.

People are damn interesting and I love doing new things and meeting and ‘listening’ to new folks. We are so blessed to all have each other around because it would damn lonely otherwise. People will always be some of the funniest shit around because most of us are damn crazy and every once in awhile, that crazy comes out. What fun when that happens!

Love y’all!! ♥

 

 

 

 

Olympics, I Have A Boner To Pick With You!

I am absolutely addicted to the Olympics every time they come on. My favorite, however, has always been the summer games. But, I have a serious boner to pick with them this year!

The Ancient Olympics began a long ass time ago in Greece in 776 BC as a religious and athletic celebration every 4 years to celebrate Zeus but the Roman Emporer Theodosius I put a stop to them in 393 AD because he deemed them a pagan thing. What an idiot! However, they started back up in Athens, Greece in 1896 thanks largely to Baron Pierre de Coubertin (1863-1937) of France who worked his butt off to get them going again. Thanks, dude!

Now, I have never seen so damn many injuries before in all my life alive watching my beloved Olympics and gruesome ass hell to boot.

I’ve seen a cycling lady go head first into a concrete gutter thingy and not damn move at all making my blood pressure go up several notches until I heard she was conscious but in shock. No shit, in shock, she just hit her damn head straight into a concrete gutter thingy!

I saw another couple of cyclists crash and suffer broken collar bones while lying on the side of a dangerous ass hard to help them at the moment road in severe pain as they watched everyone else go by.

And as I was eating my soup the other day, I watched a male gymnast running his ass as fast as he could down the runway, bounced off of his little trampoline thingy, and do flippy’s over that horse thingy, flip some more, and then when he landed, crumpled to the ground, rolled over, and OMG there goes my soup right back into the bowl with vomit to boot, his leg was on very sideways and looked damn fake. WTF?! INSERT SOME MORE HURLING HERE!

I saw another female gymnast land on her damn head and I thought, “Shit, there goes another one and I need to stop damn eating while I watch the nauseating Olympics because I’m about to puke yet again!”

And I will say this with utter satisfaction, I did not see the weight lifter dude who dislocated his damn elbow because that would have just done me in.

I did some research on these hideous injuries and supposedly the numbers this year are comparative to the numbers in the past but then one of my kids told me that they heard that this is the most injuries that have ever occurred since the beginning of the modern Olympics. I think I damn well believe my kids!

I’m not sure what’s going on but I get sick thinking about these poor athletes who have trained their asses off to be there and how utterly painful, disappointed, and worried they must be when their leg is hanging on sideways or they dislocated their elbow or all the other horrific injuries to their human bodies that have occurred. Bless y’all, really!

To all the Olympic athletes out there, kick ass, but not your own! I’m praying for all of the injured!

Love y’all!! ♥

 

 

 

Pride, Joy, and Tears

It’s a bittersweet day at our humble abode as my eldest bonus son has flown the nest for college today. There is a feeling of pride, joy, and tears emanating from my sweet husband.

As my bonus son was packing up last night, I don’t think it had hit my husband yet that this was truly happening, but boy did it hit him this morning.

As I watched him quietly sitting at the table looking out the kitchen window after his son drove away, I noticed tears gently rolling down his cheeks and the reality of what will happen to me in two years when my son leaves nearly knocked me on my ass.

I can’t even imagine what my husband must be feeling right now pride, joy, sadness, loss, fear, trepidation? I think there is a lot he is feeling and he keeps shaking his sweet little wet-cheeked head saying, “I didn’t expect to feel this way. I knew it would be hard, but this really is beyond words.” Bless him.

These changes that will inevitably take place, and we want them to, we really do, can be quite overwhelming and in some respects, your response to it can be quite unbelievable.

I remember the first day of kindergarten for my son. We had walked to school and as I approached the door to his classroom, my heart seized quite unexpectedly and I felt as if I would sob. Now, I’m not the crying type so this was very unexpected. I was able to hold it together and see him off but walking back home was another story.

The same thing happened when I walked my daughter to her kindergarten classroom 2 years later. I was shocked at my reaction because I knew it was coming, I was mentally prepared, and I had already done it with my son so what the hell emotions? Chill the hell out!

Another of the many moments in my memory where I had to hold it together because I was suddenly attacked by my damn emotions, was when my son was graduating from 8th grade. As these little citizens were walking up the aisle to their chair for the ceremony my breath caught and I almost lost it. My husband was there with me because we were married then and his daughter was graduating too. He heard me and looked at me as my eyes filled up. Putting his arm around me, he whispered, “It’s okay momma.” These sudden attacks of emotion blow me away but I know why it happens.

Before we had our kids we were all one big ball of selfish, sometimes heartless, much less understanding, and ignorant to what it would be like to have a piece of you roaming around the earth with your heart in their little hands.

When you have a child, you lose your heart to them and you are forever changed. You worry constantly, wring your hands when you haven’t heard from them or they are late, worry about who they are with and what they are doing, will they do well in school, do they have enough gas, food, love, etc. When you have a child, you can damn well expect the unexpected.

I know that my husband will end up alright, but watching those silent tears rolling down his cheeks absolutely kills me because I know he is terribly sad and it also gives me a glimpse of when it’s my turn and I’m not sure I’ll be ready, but what choice do I have. I have been guiding my children in this direction on purpose but man it’ll be freaking weird.

To all you students out there, keep up the good work. To all your parents whose heart is no longer yours, I’m there with ya. Prayers to all the students and parents out there.

Love y’all!! ♥

 

 

One Good Ass Day!

When I was younger a good ass day was so different from what I consider a good ass day today.

Here’s what I mean . . .

I’d imagine when I was a baby, a good ass day would be one where I had a fresh diaper, a full tummy, lots of love and protection from my parents, my favorite teething toy, and a place to sleep. So, you can call that an infancy good ass day, I guess.

Skip forward a bit to when I was let’s say 8. A good ass day would have to be bringing home a good report card followed by your favorite meal being made for dinner later that night, avoiding a fight with my sisters, and sleeping without nightmares. Or maybe a homerun at your softball game, winning the game, and then going out for pizza to celebrate. That’d be an elementary school good ass day.

Skip again to let’s say 13 where I think a good ass day would be you waking up zit free, eating a really good breakfast, having a kick ass day at school, finding out the boy you like likes you back, another good report card, and your favorite dinner later that night. That would be middle school good ass day.

Skip yet again to let’s say 16ish and you’ve got yourself a license and a bad ass car, a boyfriend who adores you, zit free, great hair, wonderful friends, and later that night, you are going to prom with your boyfriend and your dress is awesome! This would be high school good ass day.

So, now your in college and I remember a good ass day being in the summer when I had no classes to fool with, another great report card from busting my ass in all those classes, a great summer job and cool people to work with, a more mature boyfriend now who adores me, money in my pocket, it’s Friday night, and me and my friends are going to the dance club later that night, and oh by the way, I look hot in my dress!

Skipping ahead to now . . .

One good ass day for me sounds so silly but this shit’s real, people, or at least I would love it to be!

Waking up refreshed from an uninterrupted 6 hours of sleep with no dreaming at all.
Walking into the bathroom and discovering that I am skinny again.
Looking into the closet and realizing that my laundry basket is empty and all my clothes are clean and put away plus, I can wear any of them I want and they’ll fit.
Going out into the kitchen where all of my sweet children are up and ready for school without me having had to get up early to wake them up.
Oh, and look, there are no dishes in the sink because the sweet children have actually put their shit away, oh and look, the dishwasher doesn’t have much in it so yay, I don’t have to run it soon and then damn empty it for the 5th time in the last 2 days.
No one complains that there is no food or bottled water because we have an abundant amount in the fridge.
Oh, and look, the garbage can isn’t overflowing with trash and is actually quite low so I don’t have to fight with someone later to take it out for me while I’m cooking.
And all the sweet children float out the door for a day of learning at school with no complaints at all.
And when I eat my breakfast, I’m full and satisfied and boy it was so delicious to boot.
I see my sweet husband off to work with a passionate kiss and a slap on the butt.
I have the whole day to myself and I can read the entire day if I want.
Going into my clinic I discover that it’s clean and there are no notes to write because all of my paperwork is done.

I’ll stop there but you get my point. If there were no dishes in the sink, no one complained about their food choices, everyone got up on time, and I’d actually get a good night sleep, that would be one good ass day! But alas, I’m still waiting for it to happen . . .

Love y’all!! ♥

Fat, I Have A Boner To Pick With You!

When I met my husband, I was at my ideal size and weight. I was watching what I ate, exercising, and drinking a shit ton of water. Then love stepped in and everything went to pot.

I have been with my husband for 4 years and married for three of them. I have watched he and I become very complacent and have not been eating as well or exercising regularly. I have watched my relatively flat stomach turn into a Southern sliding apron of epic proportion, seen new and not so improved extra crap on my back near and around my bra strap, and I hate the way the camera seems to put 200 extra pounds on me, or so it looks like to me.

Now, my husband says I’m am sexy as hell, my daughter says I should love myself at any weight because I rock, my son calls me hearty but says he digs me anyway, and I just plain call myself the product of love gone wrong.

I blogged a bit ago about walking to get in better shape but since I melted one day and feared that if I fell I’d get 87th-degree burns from the blacktop I was walking on, I had to put that one hold for fear of damn heat stroke and a trip to the burn unit to boot.

Recently, I finished a great book called ‘Love for Scale’ by Michaela Greene, which was about a girl who was overweight, still living with her parents in her mid 20’s, had no boyfriend or boyfriend perspectives, and was miserable. However, she decided to take control of her life by joining Weight Watchers, moving out, and then happens to meet an awesome dude at her Weight Watchers meetings. It was just a lovely book and to boot, it motivated me . . .

I joined Weight Watchers last week and I have to say, I feel better than I have in ages. My IBS hasn’t acted up and I’m shocked because I was convinced that if I ate fruit, it would terrorize me but its been just the opposite. I’m eating this wonderful veggie soup that is worth 0 points and is absolutely hands down the most delicious thing I have ever made. I have also re-joined the gym and I’m doing Pilates 2 days a week as well as using the gym on the other days. I feel more motivated than I have in a long time.

What I don’t get is, I was able to lose weight before on Atkins very easily and quickly but I’m here to tell you, Atkins ain’t cuttin’ it for this chick anymore and I guess age changes things on you but doesn’t let you in on the little secret til there’s a little extra of your person hanging off of ya.

I’m all about accepting yourself for who you are and as you are, I am, and if you or your man/woman likes you a little extra rolly, that’s great, but for me, I have this dress in my closet that I absolutely love and I have not been able to wear it since I started dating my husband. It pisses me the hell off that I can’t wear that dress but between that dress and the book I read that motivated me, I will wear that dress!

Now, I am not interested in getting into a bikini, although I wouldn’t turn my nose up to it if I was able to get that fit, I’d just like to feel comfortable on the beach or at the pool. If you know me, I don’t give a crap about what people think, but I do care what I think and I think it’s damn time to do something about my uncomfortableness that I try to shoo away but it ain’t going away. Plus, I have to stay healthy so I can see my job as a mother and wife all the way through. I have to take care of me!

For all of you out there that struggle with weight, I’m in the boat with you and it has taken me over 3 years to finally get motivated to do something about it. I’m not sure where motivation can come for some of you but that book I told you about was mine. I really should write the author a thank you note!

Love y’all!! ♥

 

If You Can’t Drive Worth Squat, Get Off The Damn Road!

Now, I know that F word is a little harsh for some of you, but I have been finding myself slinging it out there more than usual lately because I think half the damn drivers around here are either drunk, blind, deaf, be-headed, de-brained, on crack, and quite possibly, God help us, all the above!

I am not a proponent of road rage because I saw some of the ugliest road rage from the ex and it was so damn ugly and frightening looking with his eyes bugged out, veins popping out of his neck, and beads of sweat pouring down his face, that I decided it was not worth it. I am a relatively laid back driver and I have been this way as an example to my kids. I tell them if you rage it out, people end up dead, you end up arrested, and then you look like a murdering idiot in your new orange jumpsuit. Plus, you might lose your straight guy virginity to a butt hungry animal man while in jail. This scares the shit out of my son!

Now, people, if you are 100 years old, stooped over so far that you can’t see above the damn dash, plus you are practically or fully blind, have no peripheral vision to speak of, can’t reach the peddles without damn wood blocks on your feet, and you have one of those weird ass silver door handles on your steering wheel . . . DRIVING IS NOT FOR YOU!! Call damn Uber, for crying out loud.

I know you little sweet old people want to keep your independence and I have watched bits of independence slip from some of my relatives as the years went on but being too old to drive and missing half of what is necessary is like driving drunk, stoned, and asleep thus, taking people out including you maybe.

I love you old people, I do, I have some of the fondest memories of my great grandma, I am drawn to old people, I help y’all out when you can’t reach the bread from your little motorized scooter at the grocery store, but I have to put my foot down for your own safety. If you want keys, I’ll go buy you some fake keys and you can still pretend. Better yet, play it safe and play Mario Cart, no one can get hurt that way.

And it’s not just the old people, y’all, it’s not!

I have blended this family and in doing so, fell in love with everyone, therefore, I want to keep them safe, however, if you can’t drive safely on our streets, get the hell off or call Uber.

I was driving on a busy road here in our fair city and jackass was sitting at a red light trying to turn right. The rule is, if the traffic is clear, you can turn on red unless posted otherwise, right? Well, no, not for jackass. Jackass sits there and sits there and sits there so I do a quick honk on my horn and crazy jackass starts flipping out, turning around to look at who had the audacity to honk at his dumb ass. He then starts honking his horn and flipping me the bird. My daughter was in the car with me and I’m thinking, “Oh, this is just swell. Jackass is freaking the hell out because he doesn’t know the rules of the road and she gets to witness his respectable behavior.” Once the light turned green for us, only then did jackass bird flipper go. Dumb ass!

If this wasn’t bad enough, the next day I was heading down a highway and this young dude probably in his 20’s stops in the middle of the freaking road to check out a deer in a field. IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD WITH NO HAZARDS ON, NOTHING! It was if he temporarily forgot where he was, forgot how to drive, developed instant brain damage, hell, I don’t know but the light behind us had turned green and traffic was a comin! Nope, he just sat there in the middle of the road like the dumb ass he is.

Probably one of the scariest recent driving incidences happened a few months ago. I was coming down the highway in the left lane. Further to the left was a turning left lane who had a red light, I was not in that one to turn, I was in my left lane to go through the green light. A 100-year-old woman was waiting in that turn lane and for some reason, God must have whispered to me to look to the left quickly because I was going about 55, when old lady Jenkins pulls out of the turning lane WITHOUT EVEN FREAKING LOOKING, into my lane, and I nearly took her out and wet my pants. I kid you not . . . not a freaking clue in this poor ole ladies head that she nearly just ended her own life having no business driving at this time in her life. Thank God no one was in the right lane because I had to get the beJesus over there to get out of her 2 mile an hour way.

People, again, if you can’t see, don’t drive, if you can’t see above the dash, don’t drive, if you don’t know the rules of the road, don’t drive, if you think you own the road and therefore can stop to… “Oh look at the pretty deer,” you are an idiot, pull over off the road and look at the pretty deer, you moron! Finally, if you don’t know your own name, what day it is, who the president is, and where your body parts are, I’m pretty sure that’s another indicator that you don’t need to be on the damn road!

Love y’all!! ♥

 

 

The Toilet Paper Tragedy

Toilet paper is one of the greatest inventions next to wipes for feeling extra clean after leaving the kids at the pool, laying pipe, number 2, or whatever else you call it nowadays.

I cannot imagine using a leaf to feel fresh on a regular basis and believe me, I’ve had to before when I went hunting with my dad on our farm up in the Midwestern part of the US where I was born. Besides worrying about what creatures you have just introduced to your hind quarters, it was just plain gross as hell. If you were lucky and weren’t out in the woods, you’d get the honor of using toilet paper but you’d have to use the outhouse. Boy howdy, that was some nasty shit too, no pun intended. I would worry myself silly that a spider would find his way in and set up damn shop in my person.

There are other things I find fascinating and I often get laughed at when I mention them, like my amazement that in under 2 hours you can have clean dry clothes, you can get a hot or for me, cold, shower and be clean in under 10 minutes, unless you are my daughter or bonus daughter who take over an hour, kid you not. They tell me it’s because they have to shave, “What are you a freaking 100 layers of hair gorilla? Good God, y’all, really?!”

I love our modern marvels like microwaves, refrigerators, electricity, television, cell phones, a non-leaky roof over my head, oh and good God almighty A freaking C, but toilet paper is key in my house.

When I first met my husband, he was a well oiled Sam’s and Publix machine and never seemed out of anything at all. He had his shit together and I was quite impressed for a single dad of 3. I had already been running like an oiled machine because that’s what I learned long ago, especially married to the ex, I was on my own so I had to get a system in place.

Never once, in the time I have known my husband, has he never ever run out of toilet paper until a few months ago . . .

Now that we have 5 teenagers running in and out, driving hither and yon, you’d think we’d have enough manpower to send out troops to retrieve toilet paper when we reach a code red, but oh hell no, they are too busy with their teenage lives, although I will admit a couple of them have gotten it before, just not during a code red.

Plus, they have so damn many friends running in and out using our facilities, in addition to all 7 of us, you’d think they’d start bringing a roll of their own so we don’t run out, but noooo, my son said that’s damn weird to make them bring their own roll of toilet paper. Who put your ass in charge of what’s proper, son?

Kidding of course but the other day, the IBS was kicking me in the ass, literally, and I was frequenting the white porcelain throne quite a lot, it was my own fault, I ate the wrong damn things and I paid for it. But, we were not prepared for such an ‘explosive’ occurrence because our lovely cleaning lady evidently had a similar explosive experience and managed to use up the last roll of toilet paper! Shiiiiiit!

In a panic, I scoured the house for a roll that I may have overlooked but there was nothing but paper towels, because as luck would have it, we were also out of damn Kleenex too. Touch me Jesus, what the hell else?!

Let me just tell y’all, paper towels are good for a few things, covering your snap, crackle, and pop left-overs in the microwave so as not to trash the inside of it, wiping up spills, wiping your mouth after eating a good piece of fried chicken or hot wings, and cleaning windows along with Windex . . . however, they ARE NOT CONDUCIVE FOR BEING GENTLE WITH THE SOFT TISSUE AREA I SPEAK OF! If you have ever had to go this route, I feel your pain, literally, I do.

Now, that’s not to say that all toilet paper is created equal. There are certain types of toilet paper that cheap ass folks put in their bathrooms, especially at restaurants, that are a one-ply piece of sandpaper. That shit hurts too!

And, you will not believe how many trips we have all made to the store in the last 3 days and every one of us forgot the damn toilet paper! How the hell does this happen when I can barely walk properly?!

In an over-kill move to pull us out of our code red, my wonderful husband, after a long ass day at work, made a Sam’s run and boy howdy we are set for about 4 days. Most people would be set for about 2 months, but not us, 4 days, I kid you not.

May all of you have soft clean toilet paper gracing your closets, cabinets, and other storage areas and may you never ever run out!

Love y’all!! ♥

 

 

 

Pokemon Go Neck Syndrome AKA PGNS

I am proud to say that my sweet husband and I have been married for 3 awesome years yesterday. To celebrate, he took me to Opryland Hotel in Nashville for a spoiled rotten weekend.

So, what does this have to do with Pokemon Go (PG)?

The buzz of PG has been circulating my house for a few weeks now and when I learned of it, I thought it was a bit silly although I could tell my kids were having a ball with it, meeting up with friends to hunt these creatures, getting exercise, and melting outside so I began to have doubts about my initial thoughts about the whole thing. Also, I literally thought some dude was hiding stuffed Pokemon animals in bushes and the kids were trying to find them . . . my son had a hay day with that one.

Because I work with kids each day, PG started infiltrating my clinic and my kids were begging me to join in so we could talk about it during their Occupational Therapy sessions and trade notes.

So, I downloaded the app and caught my first creature right there in my clinic, which is now my favorite-est little girl named Eevee.

I hate to admit this but I was hooked once I figured everything out and leveled up pretty quickly to 4 within a few days. My husband thought I was a nut until . . .

I secretly downloaded it on his phone right before we left for Nashville thinking, “Yea right, like you can resist a ‘treasure-type’ hunt.”

Needless to say, he is now a junky and has leveled up to 7 and I’m at 10.

Opryland Hotel is a mecca for PG-ers and as I stood in the long line to check into our room, I tried to angle my phone so no one could see what I was doing, not sure why I was hiding until . . .

“OMG, are you playing Pokemon Go!!”

I turned around to see two early 20’s dudes with PG buttons all over their backpacks, socks and sandals on their feet, and shit-eating grins on their faces. They were adorable, to say the least. (My husband was sitting in the lobby because the dude hates lines, plus I learned he was hunting and caught 4 just damn sitting there waiting on me.) They informed me that there was a shit ton of PG creatures here at the hotel, several Pokestops, and several battle stations or gyms. These dudes lived for this shit and it cracked me the hell up but I was definitely interested, not in battles and Pokestops to waste 30 minutes of my time to get free shit, but that I could creature hunt and level up.

As I continued to wait, I caught 5 PG creatures, and then once checked in, caught 3 more on the way to our hotel room. My husband was going nuts too and said, “This is awesome! I just leveled up already!” Uh-huh, I knew it’d hook you in too. He’s such an adorable goober!

When all was said and done, after an awesome amazing weekend, as I said earlier, he’s at 7 and I’m at 10. Our joke is he is now ball-less because he refuses to in-app purchase more, although I have purchased more without batting an eyelash, I love this  mindless entertainment and am willing to pay for it. I’ll have to drag him to a Pokestop soon!

Towards the end of our weekend, my husband began rubbing his neck quite a lot saying, “I think I’m sleeping wrong or something cuz my neck is so sore.” We didn’t figure out that his neck was sore from looking down at his phone for PG creatures until Sunday morning as we were packing to go back home.

Once we figured it out, I busted out laughing and said, “Dude, you are the victim of a syndrome I am now going to call Pokemon Go Neck Syndrome and I’ll bet you aren’t the only one.”

I’m also quite certain that a collaborative effort will get together and deem PG dangerous for your orthopedic health and your eyesight as well as probably 100 other things because their jealous at the craze of this game and how well-received it has been.

Now, I’ve heard some pretty weird ass stories about people walking off cliffs, drowning, going into traffic unaware of oncoming cars, etc. playing PG and to that, I have to raise my eyebrows and say, “Really, people?!”

Can you imagine going up to heaven and making it through the gates only to have to reveal to the others that you died playing Pokemon Go? That’s like the one blog I wrote about death by sand because you decided to tunnel sideways from the big ass hole you decided to dig 6 feet down and got buried alive. Yep, you’d be ‘that’ guy or gal if you died by Pokemon Go, you seriously would.

To all my fellow Pokemon Go people, hunt on!!

Love y’all!! ♥

 

 

Changing One’s Mind

Well, I’m going to have to eat my words today and they taste nasty, I’m here to tell you.

If you haven’t followed along in my blogs, I’ll give you a quick run-down of my hair issues. For years, I had long ass hair that I highlighted to be a sparkly blonde chick. I cut it short a couple of times but was quick to decide that I preferred it long so I always painfully grew it back out. About 2 years ago, my hair was blonde and down well past my bra strap, when it began to fall out and I found myself victim of a fun phenomenon called Telogen Effluvium which is hair loss due to stress, a traumatic event, etc. of which I had all the causes and once things settled down inside my blended family, that’s when the shit hit the fan. I was bald from head to toe.

By the grace of God himself, my hair all grew back but because of the traumatic event of losing all of my hair, and here I will say thank you God I didn’t lose it because of cancer, I decided to keep it short. I just couldn’t fathom having long ass chunks of it falling out in my hands again. That was damn scary, y’all!

So, with decision made, I went to see my dear sweet bad ass hairdresser every 4 weeks or so to keep it short and easy as hell to take care of until . . .

My husband and I were sitting in our usual evening spots on the couch when a discussion ensued about my hair. We were flanked by two of my kids and two of his kids all spread out on the couch with us watching Big Brother or maybe it was Walking Dead, I don’t remember. A commercial had come on with my husband’s favorite obsession, Jennifer Lopez, doing a shampoo commercial. I think my oldest bonus son asked what my plans were for my hair. I looked at him confused because why would he care and said that I had planned on keeping it short. The others chimed in as well how they loved and missed my long hair.

Well, this particular discussion was an orchestration of monumental proportions. It was a ploy to get me to grow my hair back out. Evidently my husband mentioned in a conversation with his kids and my kids on separate occasions while I wasn’t there, gently saying he missed my long hair. So, I was set up essentially by the kids to convey his gentle wishes. Sweet kids and sweet man.

So, I am back on the growing my damn hair out wagon and it really really sucks. I’m in that fun in between stage of having no idea how to style it. Plus, the humidity is like a wet damn heated blanket so it just lays on my head limp and ugly. With some of the experimental styles I am coming up with, my husband has raised his eyebrows at me. I quickly remind him that I am doing this for him so back it up buddy, to which he innocently says he did not mean for the kids to come together and have a ‘discussion.’

I will admit that I do miss throwing it up in a messy bun or ponytail on the days I don’t feel like styling it but growing it out is awful, but again, I’m thankful it came back and pray that it doesn’t happen to me again. It was so scary, like a horror movie.

Its funny to me that the kids came together to help get across to me what my husband didn’t want to say because of the fear of hurting my feelings. I think this is a great sign of successful blending if you ask me.

Love y’all!! ♥