If this song doesn’t make you want to dance there is something seriously wrong with you, and you should make an appointment with your physician as soon as humanly possible. Of course, that’s just my humble opinion.
Music by Clairy Browne and The Bangin’ Rackettes.
Peace, People.
I know I’ve been on a diet for too long when the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt, 32 Flavors, instantly made me think not of ice cream, but of teas. And I wondered, are there 32 tea flavors?
Iced, sweetened and un.
Mango, raspberry, blueberry,
Wild berry, black cherry
Hibiscus, chamomile, and
Cinnamon.
Oolong, Earl Gray
Country peach passion
Lemon zinger
Peppermint, spearmint
Ginger snapper.
Honey vanilla
Green tea, black,
White tea, too,
Yerba Mate
Holy basil
Chai, matcha and
Pu-erh.
I almost left out
Rooibos and honey bush
But apparently they
All derive from the
Camellia sinensis plant
One tea, one love.
I think I counted 28 flavors,
I’m sure there are more
But my Sleepytime has
Steeped and is ready to pour.
Peace, People!
When Studly is out of town I spend my time going to movies. So far I’ve seen “The Imitation Game” and “Chappie.” Tomorrow I plan to see “Cinderella.”
I couldn’t be a movie critic. For me movies are either great or awful, and often I can’t explain why I view them either way. Both “The Imitation Game” and “Chappie” fall into the great category. I’d see them again.
Benedict Cumberbatch is amazing as Alan Turing. If the film doesn’t make you angry at man’s injustices to man then there is something seriously wrong with you. Oddly enough, “Chappie” had the same message–that people can be incredibly cruel. That humans fear what they do not understand, and what they fear, they seek to destroy.
But both films had an uplifting feel, that if we can possibly learn from our mistakes, if we can learn the hard lessons, that humanity is worth saving.
Now who knows what I’ll take away from Cinderella, but if it’s anything like the book, it should be a winner.
Peace, People!
It’s St. Paddy’s Day, and here I am dressed in navy and white. So far no one has offered to pinch me.
Dammit.
Maybe next year I’ll wear this^^^.
Peace, People.
Closing my tired eyes
I seek only peaceful sleep
Yet I am restless.
Picture By Stasiab
Wide awake at ten
Yawning bone tired yet alert. Sleep refuses me.
Lullabies might help
Come, softly sing to me love
Help me fall asleep.
Written in response to the Daily Post’s prompt, “What is Love?”
A marathon watching of the first season of “Married at First Sight” might be helpful in answering the question I Want to Know What Love Is. The A&E channel’s series matches three couples based on the recommendations of a team of marriage experts after a regimen of interviews.
The couples meet for the first time when the bride and groom face each other at the altar. Yep. They meet and immediately are wed.
For a period of five weeks the couples live together and get to know each other. At the end of that period they decide whether they want to stay married or divorce.
I’m watching the season finale as I type this. As anyone who has ever watched reality TV knows there is a great deal of creative editing involved, including multiple cliff hangers and red herrings. Every time I think about changing channels there’s a hint that something big is waiting just around the next corner. There have been multiple corners.
What I’m struck by, though, is the lack of what feels like love. Oh, I see glimpses of it occasionally, and the participants talk about love a lot. But more than anything I hear that they are afraid. Afraid of being hurt. Afraid of making the wrong decision. Afraid of hurting the other person. Can the presence of fear inhibit love?
One thing that comes across in the series is the need for open communication. All three couples excel at that. No doubt the initial interview process weeded out the less communicative particpants. Can great communication foster love?
Initially, two of the three couples had strong physical attractions to their spouse-to-be. The third couple had mixed reactions–he thought she was hot, she thought he was not. Does love grow from physical attraction?
Jamie and Doug-No attraction in the beginning
Two of the three couples consummated their marriage on their wedding nights. You can probably guess which two after reading the previous paragraph. Is love sex?
Cortney and Jason
Monet and Vaughn
Both of these couples had the whole honeymoon experience 😉
None of the couples had smooth sailing in their first five weeks of marriage. Cohabitation with a complete stranger can bring out the best and the worst in people. Expectations were dashed. Limits were explored. Maybe love was growing.
As the decisions loom I’m more anxious than the participants. Would Studly and I have thrived given the circumstances these couples have faced? I’d like to believe we’d have made it. I’d like to believe that we’d have had that initial spark when he first saw me at the altar and that we’d have had the skills to talk through all of the obstacles.
The truth is love is different for everyone. Every relationship explores its own idea of love. What’s right for Studly and me, what makes us strong as a couple might be wrong for another couple.
Remember these cartoons? This seems to fit.
And the results from the show are in:
In spite of their initial lack of attraction, Jaimie and Doug chose to remain married. I was surprised! Cortney and Jason opted to remain married, as well. While Monet and Vaughn elected to divorce.
Of course I just realized that this was all so last season and I could have looked up the results on the internet. Face palm.
Peace, (and love) People.
A few days ago I shared a post called “Paranoia” about my crazy night of attempting to ambush an imaginary intruder due to a temporary imbalance in my chemical makeup.
This imbalance, caused by an unintentional withdrawal from the antidepressant Effexor, led me to act in an erratic manner and resulted in a sleepless night. Once I had the drug back in my system all was right with the world. No harm, no foul.
Except that it’s not all right. This wasn’t my first experience with Effexor withdrawal. Several years ago I suffered a similar reaction after a bout with the stomach flu. For three days I kept throwing up my meds along with everything else in my system.
The withdrawal was a terrifying experience. I had violent night terrors involving vivid decapitations and stabbings. In one savage dream I watched as Charlie Sheen had a leg brutally removed with a chain saw. Reality and imagination merged in my brain until I couldn’t discern one from the other. When I was awake, I experienced brain shivers, a sensation that’s difficult to describe but is vaguely similar to the feeling one gets when one has an inner ear infection. And the paranoia was off the charts.
Studly was out of town on business, and had no idea how sick I was. I called him frantically insisting that I was near death. He cut his meetings short and rushed home to find me a mess. I had a migraine that had me cowering in our darkened closet and I was certain a tornado was imminent.
He rushed me to convenient care where I was fortunate to be able to see my former general practitioner. Thank goodness he was familiar with my medical history. He immediately asked how long it had been since I’d taken Effexor and got me started on an I.V. Within an hour I was back to being me.
The ironic part of this whole thing is that I don’t take Effexor for depression. My oncologist prescribed it to help ameliorate the symptoms of menopause, such as hot flashes and night sweats. Since I cannot take a hormone replacement, she believed Effexor would provide some relief. And it does.
But I worry about the future. What happens when I’m an elderly woman and cannot control my own medical care? What happens if at some time I do not have access to the drug and go bonkers?
Recently I read a novel with a post-apocalyptic theme. Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel. In the novel a virulent flu has decimated the world’s population, and a group of survivors has sought refuge in an airline terminal. The group has enough food and other provisions, but one character who takes Effexor, soon runs out of her prescription and the group is unable to secure more. That character does not do well and ends up wandering off into the unknown. I think about her often.
Well, this was a cheery post. I highly recommend the book.
Peace, People.
The kitty is too cute to be a symbol of Effexor withdrawal.
I saw you standing on the curb
My car was fifth in line
Then fourth, then third,
And then I read your sign.
“Single mom, 3 kids, lost job”
My hand reached for my purse
Even as my head was saying “No.”
After all, it’s easy to write words on a
Piece of cardboard:
“Out of work,”
“Just lost my house,”
“Anything will help.”
Why did my heart win out over my
Head this time? Maybe because
I saw me in you.
I saw my mother,
My daughter.
I saw every woman who has
Struggled, for whom
Life has never been
A crystal stair.
Every woman who has been
Close to having her own
Cardboard sign.
You cried when I rolled
My window down. I cried
All the way home.
I borrowed a bit from one of my favorite poems by Langston Hughes. I thought I should include it here:
In a week, two of my friends from Illinois are coming to visit me in Florida. To protect their anonymity I’ll call them L1 and L2, since both their names start with the letter L. And Nana Noyz is just an alias. My name also begins with L, so I’m dubbing our get-together the “Give ’em L” tour. I’m excited. Beyond excited. Ecstatic is the best word.
I’m a bit envious, too, because the Illinois Ls are taking a major road trip to get to Doright Manor in Tallahassee. I am the queen of road trips. So, as soon as L1 and L2 arrive we’re going farther south to the oldest permanent settlement in the United States: Saint Augustine.
It’s been years since I visited, so I can’t wait to explore the old cobblestoned streets and quaint shops.
Saint Augustine also boasts some of the prettiest beaches in the country.
And an historic fort:
Of course I’ll let the visitors choose our sights to see, as long as we get to eat some good seafood.
Peace, people!
under hobbies i listed
drinking wine, but no one took
me seriously.
“i say,” i said, “dont disparage my
good taste.”
if i had mentioned basket weaving,
scrapbooking, or candlemaking as
spare time activities, the crowds
would applaud me and ask to see
the fruits of my labor.
well this, this writing thing
that occupies my mind day and night,
waking and sleeping,
causing me to laugh out loud for
no apparent reason, is often the
result of spending time with a glass of
pinot grigio in my hand.
or sometimes a crisp Chardonnay.
Pinot Grigio
Peace, People!
Praying for Eyebrowz 