Changing to “who,” not “what.” I am the most proud of my husband, Adam, and the person he is becoming. When he started coming around, he was a neglected, angry, high-school dropout, and the love and attention he received from Mom and me motivated him (along with our nagging) to change for the better. Not long after we started dating, he studied and got his GED, thanks to a local church.
Fast-forward to now. I’ve never met a sweeter, more patient and loving person outside of Mom. I just cannot reconcile his stories of the past of him being a jerk, mean, and/or impatient. At least not with people he truly loves. He is a junior in college now, routinely on the honor roll, and going to therapy and taking his medications (and making sure I take mine). We are works in progress, but putting in the work is the most important part.
I know how difficult it is for men to agree to get help and actively seek it and put in the work. There’s a stigma around that, but I think the world would be a much better place if there wasn’t.
All of my days feel lazy and unproductive, yet I am trying from the moment I get up until I go to sleep. I told Adam I’m a 5-second Franny, a play off 10-second Tom from 50 First Dates. It’s not actually funny, but if I didn’t laugh about it, I’d be crying, so…🤷♀️.
I think the last time I felt rested was in Vegas the year Mom died, 11 years ago. We stayed at the Hard Rock Hotel the last night before going home, and the bed, pillows, and sheets were amazing! Plus, the shower was big enough to have a party in. I wish we would have stayed there the whole week, although it’s farther away from the popular places and other casinos. But, it was certainly relaxing!
Hard Rock Hotel and Casino, Las Vegas, Nevada, US
I would love to go on a vacation again! We haven’t been anywhere since then, except maybe stayed at a local hotel once or twice to use the pool and just have a night “out,” so to speak.
G’day! I was waiting around to post until something positive happened, but that didn’t happen, so here I am. Black Betty was a complete bust and waste of money 😞. A local mechanic finally made it around to look at the strut, and he said it’s not driveable. That, plus the jack went through the body when Adam jacked it up for him 🙄. The guy actually told Adam to call the police because the truck never should have passed inspection. I think Adam did call them. When Adam called the garage that inspected it, the owner said it wasn’t he who did the inspection. For the record, whether he personally did it or not, it’s his garage and he’s still responsible and on the line for it. I really, really wanted a truck and fell in love with Black Betty without even riding in her.
The local mechanic does work for our neighbor, who vouched for our character (wish I could say the same for the mechanic’s character), and he told Adam he was given a car to tune up and sell. The car happened to have belonged to another neighbor, one of Mom’s coworkers and friends for 19 years. We knew the car was maintained well. It was a 2002 Buick, and he said he would sell it to us for $500. He had done some work on it, and it was good to go. Adam told him yes, after talking with me, and it would be about a month before we had the money. Guy said fine. It was parked and it wasn’t a problem.
A month passes, we get the $500, and Adam contacts the guy. We wait…And wait…And wait. About three weeks later, Adam finally gets to talk to the guy. He gave Adam the story that he drove the car to PA and it broke down and he left it there 🤔🤔. Sure, buddy. Just tell us you were a snake and sold it out from under us. If I was selling someone a car and it wasn’t my personal car that I was driving in the interim (which it wasn’t for him), I wouldn’t be driving it, period. It was slated for someone else, and it’s just the right thing to do. I mean, it was a month. It didn’t take us six months to get the money. And he said that was fine, just contact him when we had it. To make things clear, we did not approach him and ask to buy the car, we did not set the price, we did not ask for any charity from him. It was all on him, and then he pulled it out from under us. So, no vehicle in sight. Five years and counting.
We can’t even make it to medical appointments because ModivCare (a medical rideshare for those with transportation issues, through our health insurance) is crap and either cancels the rides the day of or just doesn’t show up at all.
This dress is fire.
On a lighter note, Taylor Swift’s new album came out on the 3rd and I’ve been bopping to that ever since. I was very excited and could hardly wait until midnight. I love the entire album, and while I wasn’t completely sold on the showgirl aesthetic, I do love some of the outfits, like the jeweled dress above. I really wanted to get a CD, but didn’t have the money at the time. She even released special ones for $7.99, but I still didn’t have it at the time 😞. Oh, well. I do have Spotify and Apple Music for $10 combined, so I’ve been streaming it. I think my favorites right now are Elizabeth Taylor, Opalite, and Father Figure. That combo got me downvoted on Reddit because it’s Reddit, and that site is a total cesspool.
Being a hermit, I yearn for some virtual human interaction, but most places are full of trash and/or way too left for me. Believe it or not, I don’t like being called names, which is what they do best, especially when confronted with facts or asking for sources for their claims. I’ll stick to talking with Copie. But I digress.
My Spotify Wrapped is going to be very female-oriented because Adam and I adore Taylor, Olivia Rodrigo, Sabrina Carpenter, Chappell Roan, and Billie Eilish. I like some male singers, of course, but the girls have been my jam this year. Benson Boone and Lewis Capaldi are awesome, as well as Teddy Swims. Ooh, and The Bacon Brothers!!
Prove me Wrong… A debate in good faith with a young man of faith — unabashedly so. Hate proved him right.
They gathered to argue — Agree — Learn — Teach — Except for one. Hate came to silence it all.
Its ideology whistled through the charged air, tore through the neck — Of a kind man — A husband — A father — A forever hopeful who held love for all. His respect for others did not stop at opposing beliefs.
Hate etched its intentions on bullets — (hey, fascist, catch!) — Its voice exploded in a red waterfall.
His little girl ran to him as life left his body. She sought comfort — reassurance — not knowing her world was changed.
His views were not mine. His words were not mine. But death is nonpartisan. Grief does not ask how you vote.
We mourn in fragments and forums, in soundbites and silence. We mourn because Hate came to campus, and it never left.
I’ve been in my little town since 1998, and it’s a nice place. We have lovely neighbors, for the most part, although Mom’s Amish porch swing and the riding lawnmower were stolen (separate incidents). Seriously, who steals a 6′ swing? I got a couple of security cameras after the mower was stolen from the driveway. We are right outside a few cities about about 5-10 minutes from the mall, but we don’t have to deal with “big city” life like Pittsburgh, NYC, or LA. I am not about that life!
There are so many, and some bring out the controversial side in me, but I’m at peace with that. If anyone spends any amount of time on Reddit, they will see a pattern of buzz words that flow through the site. Terms like bodily autonomy, parentalization, infantilization, parasocial, transphobic, TERF, narcissist(ic), homophobic, bigot, racist, to name a few. What the Reddit parrots don’t realize is the over-saturation of these words is akin to the story of the boy who cried wolf. All meaning is stripped from these words because they are overused and used incorrectly and/or used merely as an insult towards someone who dares to disagree with the loud minority. Not to mention, homophobic and transphobic aren’t even “real” words and do not accurately describe people who have differing views and opinions on those hot-button topics. But I digress. I honestly hate Reddit, but it’s pretty much the only place where I have any interaction with people outside the house. Ironically, it keeps me from wanting to ever leave the house.
Now, I love Chinese food. It’s one of my favorite cuisines, and I would eat it nearly every day if I could. In my family, it is a thing to say someone who likes something a lot is going to “turn into” something, just to emphasize that someone is really into something. Adam eats sandwiches every day, usually peanut butter sandwiches or something like bologna and cheese. I’ve made the comment that he is going to turn into a sandwich.
Since I love Chinese food, Mom used to tell me I was going to turn into a Chinese person from eating it so much. Nowadays (that sounds so old), that would be considered “racist.” My mom’s now a big honkin’ racist. At this point, it’s a knee-jerk reaction because someone who is non-Chinese dared to say the word(s) Chinese/Chinese person in relation to something that is relative and accurate to Chinese people. (The horror! The tragedy!) I wonder how these people feel about the song Turning Japanese…
The short answer to what brings me peace is water. My featured image is a photo of Niagara Falls from my fancy 2MP digital camera (my first digital camera!) Mom bought me to use while I was over the road in the lower 48 states with my ex. That was between ’00-’03, so over 20 years ago. (God, I’m aging myself. It’s hard to believe I’m only 29!)
I was at Niagara Falls in May of whatever year, and the falls was still partially frozen. It was so beautiful and peaceful there, and I just loved it. I’ve always loved water – looking at it, being in it, hearing it – and Niagara did not disappoint. It was pretty chilly, and a lot louder than I anticipated, but I would love to go back there someday. I have a few more tiny pictures from that day. I wanted to go to Canada, so the border people allowed me to cross the road into the country, which I thought was sweet 🙂.
I’m not sure if this is entirely uninteresting or just eyeroll-inducing, but there is a Boy Who Cried Wolf karma going on here and that possibly adds to my complete apathy.
The sweet, adorable, talented Sydney Sweeney was in an American Eagle ad very recently, and the loudest echochamber in the US lost its collective mind. I laughed when I saw the commercial. AE wordplays with jeans and genes, and states Sydney Sweeney has great genes jeans, and her jeans are blue. She speaks of how genes are passed down to children and affect a person’s attributes. All facts, which the dissenters take issue with facts to begin with.
The TikTok crowd is ready to fight, which isn’t surprising, and yelling Nazi this and Hitler that, which is totally insulting and trivializing an actual atrocity known as the Holocaust. When a white-that-week, blonde-haired Beyonce dropped her Levi’s ad, it was heralded as empowering and boss and feminist. When a beautiful, white, blonde-haired, blue-eyed actress dropped her ad, it’s Nazi propaganda. Seriously.
Because, you see, one can’t have great genes (dropping the jeans pretense) if they are white. Asians can have great genes, blacks can have great genes, Hispanics can have great genes, Italians can have great genes, and on. In the US, white people are supposed to slink around and self-flagellate for at least the next hundred years. You can’t say it’s okay to be white, because it isn’t, according to the racists and white apologists. I am certainly connected to this ad because I am an Irish American/Native American who sees the constant anti-white racism and extreme anti-right/right-of-center online every day. It’s everywhere and completely acceptable. It’s unchecked mental illness, it’s encouraged, and it’s scary.
To say one has great genes is not saying others do not by default. Nowhere is it stated better genes/jeans. Period. It’s not an either/or like so many want people to believe. My cousins have great genes. My gorgeous husband has great genes in the eyes and jawline department. My genes kind of suck, but I can appreciate other people’s great genes without causing an uproar and trying to destroy someone’s life. (As of this writing, Ms. Sweeney is being harassed publicly and dox’d, with her voter registration made more public than it was as public record in her state of residence.)
Nobody mentions that the super-cute “Sydney Sweeney jean’s” entire profits are going to a domestic abuse program, as did her ad salary. They just wish career destruction and death on her because she is out there doing her job and making a living.
I saved this prompt because it prompted (heh, heh, heh) me to think of something I’ve not forgotten. Back when Mom first started chemo, she started losing her hair. She has always had short hair since I’ve been around, although it was to her waist when she was in high school, which is wild to me. She told me she used to straighten it with a clothing iron; equally wild. Also, she sucked at styling hair, which I inherited from her, sadly. She would get perms, then curl her permed hair, like, the next day. Anyway, my point is it never looked good to me, but it was hers.
Obviously, chemo is known for one of its many side effects being hair loss. It is almost synonomous with it, but not all chemo drugs carry this common side effect, and I know a lot of the oral chemo drugs do not. The chemo my dad was on did not make him lose his hair, but he apparently lost a lot of weight (I didn’t get to see him). Mom was able to avoid being super nauseous on a regimen of Zofran or Phenergan.
Mom was losing hair in the shower, so she decided to go to the mall and have her head shaved, then go to Claire’s and get some scarves and turbans. She gets her head shaved, and I am the one standing in the back crying. She does so well keeping it together but she does not wish to look in the mirror when the stylist is done. We cover her head with something before leaving the salon, which I forget what it was, and we make our way to Claire’s.
At Claire’s we find a lot of cute scarves and turbans and she tries them out, all the while facing away from the little mirrors. Using scarves as head wraps was new to us, but Mom had watched some videos on YT of how to do it and there was more than one way to fix them. She chooses a number of each, and when she goes to pay for them, the clerk gives her a 50% discount, which I thought was super cool and so sweet. We continue on to Target.
Mom’s in a wheelchair, which we are new to navigating in public but she was in some pain and pretty tired and Adam and I fought with her about using one or we would not be shopping. I could always gauge how she felt on a given day by how much of a fight she gave us. This was a low fight day. While we maneuver her out of the walkway so she could try some hats and more scarves out, Mom’s kind of hunched down trying to be less noticeable and she keeps touching the scarf on her head nervously. It was a big day full of all sorts of emotions felt by all three of us.
So, we’re pulled off to the side on the carpeted area near the head gear and people are walking by us, and a man sees Mom and says, “Lookin’ good!” and gives her a wave or thumbs-up, which just warmed my heart so much! Mom gives him a smile and thanks him and she seems to relax a little bit.
As time went on, she became more comfortable going bare-headed, mostly because wigs, scarves, and turbans made her too hot and she would get sweaty, which she hated. The wigs never looked right on her because they were styled well and cute. Her hair grew in steel gray, which was so weird because she had only countable gray hairs before losing it, and Grandma had very few as well and she died in her 70s. Mom’s hair matched her eyes, which no one ever realized that she had gray eyes because of her mess of curled and sprayed hair. My brother told her how pretty her eyes were and how she looked much better “without that ugly mop of hair.” 🤣🤣 I think she was most beautiful with her new baby hair.
Cari R Esta 