Three things that made me laugh

 

This was one. Lilly with her long chew. She tried to carry it up her ramp, and couldn't navigate it properly. Then she'd drop it and stare at me.

The second was coming out of the bedroom, and seeing two balls lined up in the hallway, in perfect harmony. I sang, 'two balls in the hall'. And kicked them down the way.

I don't have a third one yet, but it's only Tuesday.

Okay, this made me happy; yay, number three. Chewy sent me for some reason these white rose buds. They're blooming nicely.

Don't envy me my exciting life!

It's been a long time since last post

 My husband passed away on April 2nd 2024. I was numb. Flabbergasted. Discombobulated. Heartbroken. He seemed to go so fast. After fifty years together. Wow. I felt a half a person.

It's been a difficult year. I went to the ER with a stomach ache, they did a CT scan and found I was impacted in my bowl. Then the fun began. They couldn't untwist the bowl, and I was rushed to another hospital!

They had to remove part of my bowl. But even worse, I got an osty bag. That means I was pooping into a bag attached to my stomach. And, they expected me to learn how to remove one and put on a new one. Newsbreak, I'm not a nurse!

My home visit nurse said she only had so much time to teach me how to do it. I was not a cooperative student. Worse, my vision was blurry and I couldn't get an eye appt for three months. My eye doc was out on medical leave...how dare she!

Then my new doc says I have scarring from cataract surgery. Three more months to have surgery.

Are we having fun yet?

Finally laser surgery. Now I can see. Wow, in the mirror, I've lost too much weight. I looked better blurry. 

Good news, my home nurse, now my friend, helped me with the detaching and reattaching of my osty bag. Better news. I had reversal surgery in Nov. NO MORE BAG!

I Still have this grief business to deal with. Baby Steps

Today I'm supposed to write what made me happy. Or laugh. The dog left two balls in the hallway. I sang, Two balls in the hall and I kicked them down the hall.

We've gone thru a lot by Crazy Lady Di

 

A happy time, five years ago, the Greek base where we first met, and now it's dark and gloomy. Husband has more cancer on his brain. He can't swallow because of chest radiation.

I need to run and scream. But I don't run anymore thanks to MS.

I don't know what to do. Now they'll radiate his whole brain. Who knows what side effects that will bring.

All these negative things are ....well. so negative.

I need strength, stamina, and any other st word that might work.

Send me good vibes.

I 

And Just When I thought... Diane Parkinson

 

My husband has coughed a lot. They finally found the source. Swollen lymph nodes. And there is cancer. I'm in a daze. He's losing it emotionally. We're a mess. Long drive back and forth to the hospital. Pray, dance around bonfires, call for the spirits. whatever might work.

Hanging by a thread, hoping for the best.

Gotta Rant, again, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

 

I'm so proud of this novel. I've promoted everywhere, unlike any other, but sales aren't good. I don't know why. Reviewers are loving it. Where are the readers?

I'd hoped to be a famous bestseller, okay, at least a mediocre seller, but not a terrible seller. I'm flummoxed.

Next rant, the falling apart body syndrome. I have Blepharitis to add to my other issues. I have to put warm compresses on my eyes twice a day. Then scrub my eyelids, then put gel drops in them. And this could go on indefinitely.

Dear Diary: Eyes, what did I ever do to you?

Last excitement then rant:

Trump was indicted for mishandling classified information. Tomorrow an arrest.

But his MAGA bootlickers are crying foul. They don't care what this con man does. "Let's start a civil war to protect this evil, narcissist." Why, I'll never figure it out.

He's a clown and a blow hard. He needs to be in jail.

What is his appeal? A great economy? So you put Satan in charge because he managed a great economy? NO, you don't.

Wake up, people.

What happened to our morals?

Okay, time to calm down and zen out.

What a country.

Still Slipping to the Stone Age, by Diane Scott Lewis or is it Parkinson

 I think I'm bi-polar, obsessive compulsive, and just plain nuts. Is there a pill for that? Sometimes I want to throw things at the wall.

Many red states are passing anti-abortion bills. Women will die trying to seek help anyway. I'm sick of these suppressors who call themselves Conservative.

Florida is the worst. Gov. de Santos bans books, black history, and of course, abortion. Floridians, rise up and depose him. He'll soon announce he's running for president. God help us.

Trump is also running, griping merrily along the way. Karma, where are you? This man is dangerous. He reveres Putin.

Dems, fight back, vote blue, and rid the U.S. of these scumbags.

That's my hope anyway.

My eyesight isn't great. Pain in the left eye each evening. I did better before the cataract surgery.

Okay, enough wails for today.

Love you all.

Computer Updates and back to Kvetching, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

My computer did massive updates and now my Printshop won't work. I'll have to reload it. When I have time to feel the frustration of things not loading properly.

I've never been called pretty, but no one wants to hear it.

So I'll put it here. In the navy we girls went to a dance. Everyone at my table was picked to dance, except me. I finally got up and left. Humiliating.

When I first started dating my husband, some guy confronted me and told me you should have seen his previous girlfriend, she was so beautiful. Insult. And what was the point?

Once cruising with my friends as a teen, a guy ran up to our car and said he liked all my friends, but didn't know about me. Not like he was any prize. More insults.

Why do people have to keep pointing out that I'm not pretty? I'll never understand it. I have value even without the superficialness of pretty on the outside.

Beauty is an unearned privilege. A good, intelligent person should matter, too.

Here's me with my still best friend, tall and lanky. About ten, maybe

Okay, got that off my chest.

Oh, wait, elementary school. A girl told me I reminded her of her friend. When the friend heard it, she said to me, "please don't tell anyone."

Bitch.

I wish I'd had the witty comebacks I needed for all these times.

I need a pause button, as in I can't believe you said that, what is my witty comeback?

I see pics of me in high school, and I think I looked just fine. I'm second from the right in this picture.

That's the rant for the day.