So You’re Crying A Lot, Feel Like You’re Losing Your Shit & Sweating Like a Construction Worker? Oh Snap. It’s Menopause.

menopause_illustration_libertyantoniasadler_metro
Illustration by Liberty Antonia Sadler

I’m in menopause. Full blown menopause. I’m 44 so it’s early onset from a prior medical incident following emergency surgery for Endometriosis. Endometriosis is a disease that not a lot of people know about or understand but lemme tell you, it affects A LOT of women. Roughly 10-20% of women in North America suffer from Endometriosis which affects everything menstrual cycles, mood swings, pain. So much pain. You see get these cysts that develop from hormone levels; environmental things like the foods we eat or the chemicals we are exposed to as fetuses and young developing women. These cysts over time multiply and multiply. They sometimes rupture which, depending on the size and location of the cyst can result in not only toxic material flowing in to your body which can cause sepsis. It results in many emergency room visits that should, yes Ladies, don’t you dare think this isn’t ambulance worthy- it is. It will be the most excruciating thing you will ever experience next to childbirth. Truth, and I don’t have children but fuck me- that looks mighty painful. These cysts then go on to form colonies of cysts that can fuse your organs together. My ENTIRE endocrine system is fused in these cysts. That means my ovaries, well I only had one partially working one anyway, my bladder, bowel and uterus are fused. I was unable to carry children. I got pregnant once and I had miscarriage. After the emergency surgery, as my body was in sepsis I was placed on a drug called Lupron which medically induced menopause. After that, I was prescribed Depo Provera for 6 months before getting the Mirena IUD which completely stopped my periods for 7 years. I started experiencing the premenopausal symptoms around age 39 then full blown Menopause this year. It’s been well over a year and a half since my last period.

I don’t have anyone to talk about this with. I mean, you don’t talk about menopause, it’s something old ladies get. Right? So we often suffer in silence with all these symptoms because, it’s embarassing, why I’m not sure. This isn’t the case though. I don’t have a mom or a step mom to talk to me and I seem to be the first one of my friends going through this, that I know of anyway. While I am recovering from pneumonia (I’m so hopped up on meds and this relentless cough) I decided to write a blog post about this.

First thing you need to understand ladies: You’re NOT GOING CRAZY. It’s a fact of life and the end of a natural cycle in a woman’s life. Some of us will have it sooner than later, some of us will have harder than others. It’s not gross. Periods were gross. I won’t get in to the gory details, men can’t handle this talk and it’s my hope a few men will read this so they can understand their partners a little better.

Your hormones are battling it out for sheer dominance at every given moment of the day. Your emotions will become hijacked, your mind will race with thoughts of anger, frustration, sadness, hunger, remorse, guilt, fatigue. This can take place over the course of an hour. It’s kind of like developing Borderline Personality Disorder.

My food tastes have changed dramatically. I don’t crave the sugar and the salt like I once did. Because of other health issues, immune system disorders, CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) Fibromyalgia & Osteoarthritis) I eat a fairly clean diet. I reduced my animal proteins and increased plant proteins, I avoid gluten and dairy, I eat as organic as I can, I don’t consume alcohol so this combined with fairly regular low impact exercise I have kept my weight down but it’s not uncommon that women gain weight during this time.

The Crying. Oh God, the crying. Unless you’re a stern woman you will experience bouts of tears that appear out of nowhere. You will cry from anything ranging to past memories, to things you are grateful for. My friend bought me a book that I wanted – BOOM- crying. Someone letting you cut in a line when you’re in a hurry- BOOM- crying. An elderly person wins the big prize on The Price is Right- BOOM-crying. So help you if they win BOTH showcases! It’s an emotional roller coaster. I recommend maybe a COSTCO membership just to save on Kleenex and chocolate.

WHY AM I ON FIRE? Is this what spontaneous human combustion feels like? I think this is what spontaneous human combustion feels like. I NEED TO GET THIS BLOODY SHIRT OFF!!!! All that needed to be bolded because this is how it will go through your mind when a hot flash kicks in. BUY HANDHELD FANS IN BULK. Those bitches break. Mine just broke this past week and I tell you what.. scream .. I need that fucking thing and they are APPARENTLY fucking seasonal so you can’t find one goddamn hand held and often power fan in this Godless city. Sorry for the cursing. THAT’S gonna happen a lot more too. Thanks to the rage of a hundred angry fighting dogs that has now set up pit in your head, frequent shows, all access, anyone can view for free! Be sure to include children because Lord are they little shits now. It’s not their fault. It’s the internet and handheld devices fault. It’s commercialism’s fault. They’ve fried your brain a bit as a parent and as developing youth because…. what’s on Facebook/Pinterest/ Twitter/YouTube……?” It’s not your fault, society has changed us for the worse. We’re all just slightly bigger dicks for it. Hot flashes will begin in your chest area and sweep up your neck and face until, unless you have a fan, you will literally pour water from your body. You’ll sweat more. It’s gross. I can’t often wear make up because of it. What’s the point without a fan your make up is no match for a hot flash. Oooh! Cosmetic companies: Create makeup for hot flash women. Wait, it would probably include some carcinogen and cause cancer. Fuck. Scrap that. Wear layers and go with my bulk handheld fan recommendation. Get a small power fan and keep one next to where you sit in the daytime, in the evening time, and next to your bed. Drink LOTS of water. If you don’t you’ll get A LOT of headaches. It’s because of the hot flashes. A good way to tell if you’re dehydrated is the color of your pee. The darker it is, the more water you pound. It should increasingly get lighter then clear. If it doesn’t, you may have an infection. (bladder, urinary tract, kidney) Go see a doctor for God sake what’s wrong with you? There are some natural things out there you can take in supplement form you can find at any pharmacy or nutrition store. Black Cohosh, flax seed, Calcium, Vitamin D, Wild Yam, Ginseng, DHEA, Dong Quai, Soy (if you’re not allergic of course) Currently I have no access to these right now so I’m going on nothing. You’ll want to keep a towel nearby to cover up the sopping wet mess you will constantly leave on your sheets and pillow cases. Trust me, lay that towel down on the wet spot and go to sleep because Girl, you’re tired and you a’int got time to wash sheets in the middle of the damn night what are you doing?? You’re just gonna be in the same boat tomorrow. But you will need to frequent up your sheet changing regime. Keep a change of clothes nearby and change them if you are wet, I think this could be why I got pneumonia.

It’s like going through puberty all over again I’ve noticed my anxiety has kicked up several notches. You’ll probably experience bouts of insomnia simply because you can’t shut your brain off. I also went through some adult acne. I think my voice is even deeper than it was. Keep to a healthy diet and exercise the way you want to it can help and it’s just common sense. You may get some unexpected unflattering hair growth as well. Tweezers and good depilatory creams will become a must.

Your chances of having a child, or another child is done now. You may need to process this. Cry it out, that is how you process things. You have to allow yourself to feel things in order to move past it. This is true with any traumatic event we encounter. Think about it, cry about it, pray about it, have some inner dialogue about it, and you’ll probably move on and feel better.

Your sex drive will probably decrease Our bodies use sex to procreate mainly so once the need to procreate ends you will probably feel the urge a little less. You may have to put in a little more effort with your partner during this time. That effort would include finding things to stimulate your desires, discussing things with them so they don’t think it’s them which can leave them feeling a little neglected. We should always show love to our partners- when they deserve it. Those assholes.

You should experience some emotional growth as well as some confidence during this time With maturity comes an understanding that shit just is what it is. You can’t control or change everything. You are not Superwoman. You don’t have to have the body of a 25 year old because, Surprise Bitch! You’re NOT 25. I for example, am just a broad. Just a broad getting through day by day through the Grace of God.

It’s not all bad. It can be pretty freeing to not give a fuck anymore.

I really hope this post has prepared you a little bit. Maybe you’ll learn what to expect and can prepare. Share this with your lady friends, share this with partners. Because Menopause is a family event. It will affect your loved ones, your friends, your work, your energy levels and it IS a big deal because of all these things.. I often wonder, if men experienced menopause would there be paid leaves and loads of information out there for them. Possibly a national holiday in honor of it? I dunno, that’s just my guess.

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

And take care of yourself.

Sam

The Blog Broad
This ol’ Broad..

Images

Menopause Your Personal Sauna https://metro.co.uk/2015/08/25/21-things-you-never-knew-about-the-menopause-5341203/

Profile picture taken by me.

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Comments.. Anyone?

Comments?? Anyone?
First, let me start off noting how much of a terrible blogger I am. Since February, wifey and I have been doing a Monday to Friday live radio show on Higher Living Wellness Radio, an internet radio station. I also write a blog for them. It surrounds medical cannabis, cannabis news and reviews from a Canadian perspective. We also play music to medicate by. A lot of harder rock, alternative and metal. That keeps me pretty busy.
After the show, I’m usually over stimulated from constant web surfing, tweeting and interacting on several social media platforms all whilst listening to metal music. This has resulted in my reluctant absence from my blog. I mean, I want to blog. I’m just too damn tired.
One thing I do often have energy for is reading random web comments on Facebook, Twitter and Reddit posts. I’m a bit of a lurker. If you ever want a snapshot of a microcosm that amplifies ALL that is wrong in our society, read some internet comments, but not for TOO long, as you will quickly lose all faith in humanity leading you to the conclusion that we are all doomed as humans.
People are rude. Not just rude, but outright savages with one another. It’s amazing how people seem to feel free and entitled to unleash the most obscene, vulgar, hatred upon another person. It pops up in the most unexpected places too. For example, today, I was scrolling through my news feed when I saw a post on one of the (far too) many dachshund groups I belong to. Someone needed help to pay for an expensive surgery for their dog and right away someone felt the need to judge this person for paying a lot of money to save her companion. First of all, most people think of their dogs as family, many people only have their dogs and no one else, and if something happens to your family- you take care of it. Is it a lot of money? Yes? But who am I to judge? I’d do it too if my Lucy got sick and I was able to raise the funds to make her better. This simple post turned into a hate fest, begun by one person. Things often escalate quickly in the comments section of an internet post. It can go from “Stuff it” to “I will peel the skin from your face and turn it in to a soup to feed you with” in literally seconds.
The problem with spending too much time reading comments is that it ultimately leads you to the temptation to participate in the discussion. “Well, I don’t like THAT, here’s MY opinion.” Why do we feel the need to do this? Who does it serve really? Yeah, you might get off some quick witted zingers to your satisfaction but who cares? Why contribute? When I saw all the strife this post caused I eventually DID comment. I commented with the fact that statements like this individual’s are meant to incite anger to create fights online. Some people have very little in their lives, some people can’t process things, some people are just having a bad day and some people are just plain mentally ill. You can’t reason with these people. The best thing to do is ignore responses like that. Don’t give that person any attention, after all, this is what they seek so denying them the satisfaction is like snuffing out a candle. It can stop there if you want it to. Just don’t engage. The original poster of the offensive statement attempted to initiate an argument with me. I responded with a simple, “Nope- not engaging, sorry- have a nice day” with a big smiley face.
There is so much wrong with our world I can’t even begin to write about it, but the thing I see most frequently, is how terrible we treat one another. How quickly we can verbally assault or attack someone online from the comforts of our home and the protective barrier of a computer screen. It’s disparaging. The lack of respect we show to other human beings is overwhelming at times.
Where do comments like this come from? One word. Pride. People have over inflated senses of who they are now with the popularity of social media. Everything is about ego and making one’s self appear “better” than what one truly is. We need to step back and take a lesson in humility. Learn to be humble. Resist taking part in these types of negative engagements online because it only spreads negativity. Why let some random person you’ll never meet have the power to sour YOUR day? Exercise restraint, scroll past and move on. I feel like we all need to start BEING the changes we want to see in our world.

What does the Bible say about pride and humility?

Jeremiah 9:23
This is what the LORD says: “Let not the wise boast of their wisdom or the strong boast of their strength or the rich boast of their riches

Philippians 2:3
Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves

Proverbs 8:13
To fear the LORD is to hate evil; I hate pride and arrogance, evil behavior and perverse speech.

Proverbs 21:24
The proud and arrogant person—“Mocker” is his name— behaves with insolent fury.

And finally,

James 4:10
Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up

Be better than the comments you read. Be that change.

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,
Sam

photo credit

https://phys.org/news/2016-12-news-sites-online-comments-electorate.html

If Creativity is a Drug, it’s Probably Like Crystal Meth…

no healthier drug than creativityMy friend shared this on Facebook today.  I couldn’t agree more.  That being said, if creativity is a drug, it’s probably most like crystal meth.  I mean, I’ve never tried crystal meth (never would) but I watch A&E’s Intervention and have seen the movie Spun a couple of times.

Creativity is probably one of my favorite drugs, next to cannabis and antihistamines.  (I do love to breath out of both nose holes). When I get on a creative roll, whether it be with art or crafts or writing, I am virtually unreachable.   I didn’t hear what you just said because I’m editing my next piece in my head while you’re talking.  I find it difficult to sit still.  I’m constantly reaching for my notepad to jot down ideas and funny observances hoping to insert it later in a witty blog post.  When I can’t look at the screen anymore because my eyes are going crossed and my head hurts, I pick up my knitting or one of my coloring books.  Because, I must always be creating something.

Take right now for example.  It’s 4:10 am.  “C” is snoring away, rattling the windows, sawing enough wood to build a small village.  I am here.  Listening to my favorite YouTube narrator weaving his creepy Reddit tales that normally send me off to sleep; instead, I’m laying wide awake thinking about the things I want to write.

Most recently, my friend, that I write a cannabis blog for, approached me about putting together a radio show.  My friend owns her own business in the cannabis industry and literally has her hands in everything.  She used to sell mortgages, is a Registered Massage Therapist, an Activist, puts together Expos and festivals, has a bunch of dogs, helps the poor, and most recently, she’s sponsoring an internet radio station in addition to the blog.  I joke, but she’s a keen business woman.  I have been talking about doing a podcast with my fiancee for a while so the opportunity (kick in the pants) finally arrived.

C” recently lost her job.  She works in radio.  Terrestrial radio.  She was the co-host of a popular morning show in our city, and, as often happens in radio, her job was terminated.  It has been stressful.  We are looking at moving provinces again so we have to slowly pack up our lives from the last two and a half years while she searches for new employment.  We almost had it solved with a job back home in Halifax, Nova Scotia, but that deal fell through so we ended up cancelling that move.

Superman and KryptoniteStress is like the kryptonite of my creativity.  It blocks it.  This is part of the reason why I have been absent from my blog more than I’d like.  I’m also still dealing with the pain of a slowly healing broken wrist and hand, but stress has been the hardest.  It’s like withdrawing from opiates.  My flowing creativity is like heroin and after going balls out for four months, I have finally run out.

For close to a month, I couldn’t think of anything to write and it drove me nuts.  My appetite went down, I couldn’t sleep.  All I did was watch Netflix and knit.  I knitted like never before.  I knitted 5 things.  5 of the same things.

Just when I thought I was doomed to just sit through all the turds on Netflix.  “I may as well watch Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency.  I don’t have anything else going on.”  And for the record, that, Ladies and Gentlemen, IS a turd of a show.   My buddy approached me about the radio show.

Little does she know, she basically just handed me a big ol’ 8 Ball and left me to my own devices.  I’ve been partying hard on creativity the past few days prepping our first show.  Who didn’t play Radio DJ as a kid?  I had many cassette tapes filled with mine and my friends’ pre-pubescent voices introducing our favorite songs and making up commercials on the fly.  I have more things to learn before we go live, mostly the technical aspect as well as editing and such but I’m a fast learner.

I am so excited and scared and nervous that SURPRISE!  I can’t sleep.

This helps.  Finally writing a blog post helps.  Now I should be able to climb back in to bed, even with “C” steadily honking away, pop my headphones in and sneak in an episode of The Sasquatch Chronicles podcast.  Don’t you dare judge me.  I have an inquiring mind and the stories are riveting.

Read one of my other posts, and be sure to subscribe via email and follow me on Twitter

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

Sam

Images

Kryptonite to Superman  https://kugelmass.wordpress.com/2013/05/29/why-does-kryptonite-hurt-superman/

 

 

 

 

 

The Price is… Too Much

Firstly, I apologize for my recent absence.  With the holidays and travelling and personal matters I cannot share at this time, and an officially broken wrist, I have been too distracted, tired or sore to go on social media.  I needed a break (pardon the pun).

Not much has been going on here but a few minor observances and a shit load of Netflix watching.  I’ve watched a few movies I enjoyed like I, Tonya, and the Disaster Artist.  I was pleased to see Franco take an award for that.  I blew through the Wormwood series in a day, I enjoyed the biographical movie All Eyez on Me about the iconic Tupac Shakur.  It’s been pretty quiet here.

Quiet.  That’s something I enjoy.  Peace and quiet.  I don’t like loud things, loud movies, loud shows, loud noises.  I’m an aficionado of documentary films and quiet quirky humor without the blatantly obnoxious laugh tracks.  I’m a big girl, I know when to laugh, thanks.  Even my musical tastes have changed.  When going for my MP3s to accompany house cleaning, I’m beginning to shy away from the loud raucous rock and metal that I used to listen to, opting for Radiohead, Wilco or, most recently, Diana Ross and the Supremes.  You can’t go wrong with Motown.

Cannabis brownieWhich brings me to the crux of my story.  Recently I acquired a medicinal brownie.  I’ve been pretty blunt and upfront about the fact that I have a permit/prescription to possess medical cannabis for chronic pain and PTSD.  So, I got this brownie..  Keep in mind I am very experienced, a veteran of cannabis if you will.  I have been using it for about a decade for pain, I have done my research, I know my strains and I know my doses.  I have never had a bad experience… Until now.

This brownie was about 3 inches long and maybe an inch wide.  I split it in half.  It’s a Saturday night so I offer the other half to my partner so she can relax.  Apparently this was not a 2 dose brownie.  I repeat, NOT a 2 dose brownie.  In actual fact, this was a four or 5 dose brownie.  So we unknowingly nibble at our brownies while enjoying a cup of coffee with a little Baileys in it.  Mistake number 2.  Do not mix said brownie with alcohol, even the wee bit of Baileys you dumped in your after dinner coffee.  I put on a recent episode of The Price is Right for shits and giggles.  We don’t have cable so occasionally I find game show episodes online for us to watch so we can feel like real people that have cable.  The Price is Right was mistake number 3.  It was at the second big wheel spin to see who the showcase showdown opponent was going to be when the brownie took hold.  

Holy fuck.

Too much
Too much The Blog BroadThere were flashing lights, bells ringing, thunderous applause, ” It’s a brand new car!!!” , people screaming and molesting Drew, saying hello to every fucking person they knew, people losing their shit screaming down aisles flailing their arms, people pushing past stunned models to grab at their haul of prizes, people screaming random numbers at shocked contestants, weird T shirts begging to Drew to love them, flashy costumes, honking horns, that yodelling Swiss guy, then it’s topped off with guilt about the unneutered pet population.

How do people watch this?

How the fuck does Drew Carey sleep at night?  No wonder he’s lost weight, poor bastard probably has PTSD.  I sure hope they pay him well and he has a good benefits package.

How did Bob Barker do it all those years?  I mean that guy was old as shit when he retired. 

That show is like an overdose of Aderall with a hit of meth all in one 21 minute episode.  It was too much.  TOO MUCH.

This brownie was too much.  TOO MUCH.

All we could do was go lay on our bare bed, (I had the brilliant idea of washing the bedding pre-brownie).  We had been over stimulated.  We grabbed the comforter and threw it over us like a protective fort.  Looking at each other under our fort all we could do, was repeat “Too much.  Too much.  Too much.”  

The lights were too much, music was too much, smells were too much, touch was too much, The Price is Right  was TOO MUCH.

I vomited a couple of times and crawled back into the fort with “C”.  We fell asleep.  I eventually woke up and finished the laundry but “C” was out for the night.  Lesson learned.  Well played meth brownie, well played.

It did get me thinking about how The Price is Right kind of mirrors American society.  

Play the game, win prizes!

The more shit, the better!

LOUD LOUD LOUD!!  with some screaming for good measure

It’s all about advertising, but throw in some literal bells and whistles and flashing lights and no one’s the wiser!

I want it all now now now

Who cares about the fine print, like duties and taxes that need to be paid, a lot of people don’t even take their prizes because it costs too much.  Nothing is truly free but it looks like it is and that’s all that matters


Yay!! America! 

yeesh… 

Too much. 


Live Humbly, Start Small, Live Cautiously,

Sam


Images

Hank Hill/ too high  http://media.ifunny.com/results/2014/02/06/yqeg15gwyf.jpg

Price is Right gif  https://uproxx.files.wordpress.com/2014/10/tpir.gif?w=650

Brownie/Selfie are my own.

Substitute Gifts and Crying 8 Year Olds

My parents (now divorced) were not wealthy by any means.  I grew up in a trailer on a plot of land owned by my father’s side of the family.  My father, an auto mechanic, earned a less than modest wage and my mother was a homemaker and stay at home Mom.  I know now that she suffered from anxiety and crippling depression, but back then I just remember her reading a lot of books.  Come Christmas time, the books would be set aside for holiday baking and decorating and the wrapping of the gifts.

I wasn’t much of a snooper because I enjoyed the surprise.  I’ve always been a lousy liar so trying to feign surprise or gratitude was beyond my kid skills.  Honesty is the best policy, an adage I still believe in.

Another reason acting surprised was a challenge was because my parents… well, my mother, I mean let’s be honest, my father NEVER shops for other people.  He gets everyone around him to shop for him so he never has to set foot in a store OR you just get some crumpled twenties in a card.  My mother was solely responsible for making my Christmas a success.  The only problems were that a) She had extreme anxiety and HATED shopping or going out in public in general and b) She only had the money my father gave her to buy my presents.

Crack whore BarbieI first learned my mother was a Substitute gifter when I asked for my first real Barbie at age 5.  All I had were those flimsy soft plastic dolls that kind of resembled Barbies but clearly weren’t.  They were like Barbie’s ugly cousin from the valley.  Remember those?  Somebody would squeeze a leg and that was it, the leg would stay that way like some kind of deflated sucked in, fucked up amputee.  I never had a Ken doll either.   My parents seemed to think that Ken would be anatomically correct and that was something I didn’t need to see.  a) I’m gay.  That would NOT have been a problem. b) Most people realize that Barbie and Ken dolls do not have genitalia.  They just have bumps and lines where genitalia should be.  I had a Tony Doll.  Tony’s whole body was made of that crappy collapsible plastic that the valley whore “Barbies” are made from.  My cousin used to squeeze his head until it flattened out and stayed that way.  Eventually, Tony came apart at the waist so Barbies would fight over who would date Torso Tony, complete with head, and who would date Legs Tony ultimately making him 2 separate entities.  Fuck Tony.

Then I wanted the Barbie camper.  Boy for a lesbian, you sure liked Barbies.  Yes.  Yes I did.  I made up Soap Opera like stories that sometimes played out for days just like in my mom’s Soaps.  One Barbie would be gay, another would kill herself over a lost child or ruined career.  Tony would come apart and love 2 women at the same time.  I was a little dramatic, and again, I watched my mother’s Soaps a little too frequently.

Barbie Camper 70s

When Christmas arrived that year I was beyond stoked!  Oh man I wanted that camper complete with tiny barbecue and little steaks and a picnic table and chairs and a shower inside..  It was SOOO COOOOL.  It was all I talked about for months.  Christmas day came, I opened the very last present with all my hopes tied in that bow I carefully (my mother reused the bows) removed and placed aside.  The box didn’t seem big enough though.  Maybe it has to be put together I wishfully thought to myself secretly praying.  Here it comes….  It was a horse.  The Barbie horse.  Not the cool Palomino with the jointed legs either.  Just like, a plastic horse statue of sorts .. I did not ask for this horse.  Why Mom?  That year, my cousin got the Barbie camper.  I cried in my bedroom when I got home from visiting her.

The next painful lesson I learned was when I asked for the Lego Space set.  I’ve always been in to space, astronomy, Star Trek and Lego so the Space Set looked like it was for me and the commercials were awesome!  I planted my seeds and eagerly awaited the 25th.

80s Lego Space Set

Unwrapping all my gifts, I saw no Lego set.  There was one more.  A huge heavy box.  Oh Snap!  This must be it.  Tearing back the paper… I saw…  horses.  More fucking horses!  It was a Loc Blocs Medieval Castle.  Jesus, they didn’t even get the time frame right!  Going back in to history when I wanted to go where no woman has gone before.  I couldn’t hide my disdain.  “But.. this isn’t Lego Space at all..”  My mother assured me that this had way more pieces and would be more fun.  “Look, it has a drawbridge“, she persisted.  I didn’t care about the drawbridge, the smug little faces on the Loc Blocs knights’ stupid faces.  I wanted to build a damn space ship.

I came home the first day back to school after Christmas vacation to find my Loc Blocs castle fully assembled, working drawbridge and all, and my parents tipsy.  To this day, I’m not crazy about horses.

Do you give your kids substitute gifts?  Don’t you love your kids?  Why would you do that to them?  Did you get substitutes as a kid?  #KidsRemember

 

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

Sam

 

Images

Barbie Camper  http://mumsgrapevine.com.au/2014/01/20-perfect-nostalgic-toys_80s-toys_90s-toys/

Crack whore Barbie-ish  https://www.pinterest.ca/terribunz/barbie-bashin/?lp=true

Lego Space  http://www.sega-16.com/forum/showthread.php?8236-LEGO-Classic-Space-(1980s)-Does-anyone-remember-this-specific-LEGO-piece

Bad Ideas

The Blog Broad is broke.  She’s slow, resistant and doesn’t seem to want to work.  Actually, I’m having a lot of pain.  The past two days I’ve had Painsomnia where the pain doesn’t let up long enough for you to be able to sleep.  I’ve caught a few winks in the late mornings/early afternoons but I’m dragging my ass a mile behind me.

My wrist is still healing  after badly spraining it.  I still have limited range of motion and blogging and texting is still quite painful but here I am because of FOMO (fear of missing out).  My love took care of most of the household chores while I recuperated.  Thank God for her, I don’t know what I’d do without her.

Over the weekend, we had passes for a rock show that was being sponsored by her work.  The problem was that the show didn’t really start until 10 pm.  Now, I’m 43 years old and 10 pm to me is usually, hair in a pony, jammies and face cream.  I haven’t gotten ready to go out that late in a long time.  I was already in pain from my body and wrist but I pushed through it for the show.

During the getting ready process, a couple of “C”‘s friends came over to have wine before the show.  So I said, “Sure, pour me a glass.”  Little did I realize, the wine our guests had brought was homemade and very potent.  Two glasses later I was inebriated.   I was woozy, spinny and all around barfy.  My partner was in even worse shape.  We snuck out before the show to grab a sandwich to help ease our ailing liquor bellies.  Two drunk broads in a Subway shoveling 6 inches down our gullets like we hadn’t eaten in a week, then stumbling out, giggling like teenagers on Prom night.  At that point it was almost 11 pm and normally, “C” is passed out by that time of night as her days begin at 4 am.  Even though we wanted to see the show, we ended up making our way awkwardly and drunkenly back home holding each other up as we made the seven hour journey by foot back home.  Ok, it was 15 minutes but it felt like seven hours.  We missed the show.

Bad Idea
(Not actually Us)

I was reminded of another time like this.  Back in 2008, I had tickets to go see one of my favorite bands of all time Queens of the Stone Age.  I was so excited for the show that I didn’t really eat much.  While I was getting ready I downed three Mojos.  Those were those Guarana Caffeine vodka drinks that went down like pop.  Before leaving I thought to myself, “Well this isn’t going to end up well at all.”  But I went anyway and hopped on the bus.  By the time we got to our friend’s house, I made a mad dash for the bathroom.  I don’t remember much after that.  Except waking up in my bed about five hours later realizing I missed the show.  I was devastated.  I am still devastated.  This was by no means a band like Queens but still.  Alcohol got me again.  When will I learn??

 

Can you still handle alcohol?  Have you ever missed something really important because of a bad idea?

 

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

(Drink Responsibly)

Sam

 

Image

Drunk Girls  http://metro.co.uk/2007/11/05/drunk-girls-proving-a-facebook-hit-474899/

Kick Ass Words to Live By

Wake Up Kick Ass.jpegFrom time to time, when I have trouble coming up with something witty or clever to say, I go on an internet hunt for inspiring quotes to keep me motivated.  I see other posts from people sharing meaningful quotes so I thought I’d share a few of my favorites.

I periodically just need to be reminded to keep persevering, that things take time, to let go of the things I cannot change or control.  To kick ass and be awesome.

Be Awesome
Be Awesome.  Kick Ass.

This one reminds me to just be myself and that I have value.  I have tried to earn money by doing things I love to do.  I have earned by painting, writing, dog sitting and working at a dog daycare.  No matter if I am watching someone’s pet or writing a quick blog post, I take it seriously and try to do my best.

Rules for Kicking Ass in Life
Know the Rules

If I do a job for someone, I always try to do more than what is expected.  I try not assume anything.  If I don’t try, I’ll never succeed and I try not to compare myself to anyone else.

Decide-whats-important-2
Decide What’s Important to You

What’s important to me is my little family.  By my little family, I mean my partner, her family, my dog and the couple of close friends I have.  The other thing that’s important to me is having purpose.  Writing gives me purpose.  If I can make one person smile or laugh today, if I can be kind or provide support to my little family, then I feel like I have purpose.

We Must be Willing
We Must be Willing

I sometimes have to consciously try to let go of the past.  “Nope, don’t think about that, there’s no point in rehashing it, it won’t change.”  We cannot change the past, it is what it is.  I have learned and grown through pain and mistakes, it’s made me the woman I am today and I am ready for the life God has planned for me.

If You're Offered a Seat
Grab that seat!

Don’t over analyze opportunities.  Grab it while it’s there and take full advantage of it.  Regret is a shitty thing.  I also like rocket ships.

Do anything of these speak to you?  Let me know in the comments.

Visit my last post Getting Personal 

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

Sam

Image Sources

 

Be Awesome… https://i.pinimg.com/736x/a0/3c/86/a03c86338ab74d2787fe5faba580b16b–be-awesome-passion.jpg

Rules for Kicking Ass in Life… https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d9/e7/f0/d9e7f07e1c78e2dee3612cff6cb32fa1.jpg

Wake Up Kick Ass… https://guideimg.alibaba.com/images/shop/2016/09/14/57/xander-inspirational-quotes-wake-up-kick-ass-be-kind-repeat-black-letters-on-white-background-10×10-inch-quilt-square-qs_25704357.jpeg

Decide What’s Important… https://kristenhewitt.me/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/Decide-whats-important-2.jpg

We Must be Willing… http://homean.me/22149/inspirational-quotes-about-life-and-love/inspirational-quotes-about-life-and-love-19-75-of-the-best-most-kickass-on-life/

If You’re Offered a Seat… https://i.pinimg.com/736x/96/72/12/9672129e834a494907616f859c3a7fb8–job-interview-quotes-career-quotes.jpg

 

Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff

Don't sweat the small stuffI learned an important lesson from my step father.  When He first entered my life at age 12 he seemed a burly rigid man.  He was tall and broad across the shoulders, physically strong; he was a navy man.  He served for over 20 years on submarines as a sonar technician.  He was at times, an asshole, but I appreciated his efforts in keeping me on the straight and narrow and providing guidance to me when my parents were more consumed by themselves than how I was doing.  They had just separated; my father moved in with my now step mother and my mother began dating my now stepfather.  He showed up on a motorcycle with these ridiculous goggles on his face.  I later would learn he was a huge dork.  A Star Trek lover and fan of ABBA I wondered what this man could possibly bring to my life.  In addition to our mutual love of Star Trek, he had a sense of humor as well.  So we bonded.

I was an awkward teenager morphing into an awkward adult and stressing over something stupid.  Probably a shirt or my hair or some adolescent girl shit.  My step father says, “Hey, don’t sweat the small stuff.”  He later would offer solutions to whatever I was complaining about and rectified it quickly and efficiently.  He would do this many times over the course of our relationship.  Over time I learned he was right and this phrase would become a daily mantra to me in my adult life. 

So many times I have caught myself stressing over some minor detail and thought, “Hey, don’t sweat the small stuff.”  There are bigger things in life to stress about. 

I carry this through my personal life as kind of a philosophy.   There are things worth fighting over and things that aren’t.  I’m not gonna berate my partner for leaving her dishes in the living room or socks on the floor.  Who cares?  It doesn’t really matter in the long run.  

The things that are important to me are things like loyalty, honesty, kindness and love.  I try to focus on those things and try to keep things in the big picture.   Sure, my dog sometimes craps on the floor.  I could yell at her which would upset her and me OR I can remember that overall, she has given me 6 years of unconditional love and laughter so a little shit doesn’t matter.  Shit happens.  Which is another one of my personal philosophies/mantras.

Morpheus what if I told you

The next time you are about to have a freak out over something, ask yourself this?

How will I feel after I work myself up with anger?

What kind of reactions and/or emotions will this provoke in those around me?
Does it really fucking matter?
Ask yourself this

Don’t sweat the small stuff. Shit happens.

Shit happens

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

Sam
Images
Shit happens to make room meme https://pics.onsizzle.com/shit-happens-to-make-room-for-a-shift-to-happen-5839415.png

What if I told you meme https://i.imgflip.com/pr0do.jpg

Ask yourself this question https://i.pinimg.com/736x/cd/ed/40/cded40983f805281cbe63e306aceb3b4–good-advice-good-ideas.jpg

Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff https://pics.me.me/dont-sweat-the-small-stuff-lum-skye-21183656.png www.pickle bums.com #Skye

Summer Road Trips and the Perfect Place “To Go”

A guest blog post by Ocean Hayward

Road trip

It’s summer road trip season, and I’ve been partaking all summer long so far.  My husband and I have been driving back and forth around the Maritimes visiting friends and family.  Yes, summer road trips- those long trips in the car filled with highways lined with nothing but trees for miles and miles, rest-stops, gas stations, fast food and sitting in the same position for hours on end, squirming around in the seat trying to find that sweet spot where your legs, neck and back don’t ache.  And, of course, holding in your business until the next rest-stop or exit.

Growing up, I went on a lot of family road trips in the summer.  My father generally drove and one thing about my father is he is always in a hurry.  He hates traveling, so whenever we went on our trips, he wanted to get there and back home as quickly as possible.  It’s because my father is not a public pooper.  The only place he will drop anchor is at home.  We’ve been out at stores, restaurants or family get-togethers and my dad will rush us all out to take us home because he has to shit.  I, too, suffered from the same shame about public pooping, (either a learned behaviour or inherited one, I’m not sure which) for years until the “Best Buy” incident. 

My husband and I were on a road trip of our own to visit his brother in Ontario and we drove through the U.S. because the gasoline is much cheaper there.  On the way, my husband wanted to look at laptops at Best Buy because electronics are also much cheaper, even with the exchange rate.  When traveling, I would always hold in my bowel movements because the shame, oh, the shame of shitting in a public restroom.  But when you’re on a road trip, you don’t have the luxury of driving home to use the toilet.  So there we were, my husband and I, in Best Buy, and that’s when the poop pangs hit me- my bowels weren’t going to allow me to wait to use the bathroom until our next stay in a hotel.  So I didn’t walk, I literally RAN to the Best Buy bathroom, without even saying a word to my husband who was examining each electronic item, the prices and doing the math for exchange rates in his head.  He didn’t even realize that I had disappeared.

The nice thing about the Best Buy bathrooms is that usually they are empty.  I was so relieved (Pun intended) when I got into the bathroom and there wasn’t a single other person in there.  I think that people don’t generally need to use the bathroom when shopping for electronics like they do at gas stations or rest stops off of the highway.  Probably because most people shopping for electronics are not that far from home, and they probably don’t stay in the store long enough to feel the urge.  So I had the WHOLE bathroom to myself.  I checked under each stall to ensure I was indeed truly alone, and I was.  It was quiet and clean, and I let it all out!  Afterwards, I felt empty in a beautiful way that only people who have held in their shit for more than a day can understand.  I was in there for a very long time.  When I came out, my husband immediately looked up to see me come out of the bathroom.  “Was that you?” Apparently the smell of my “brand” had emanated out into the TV department where my husband had moved to do more price comparisons just outside of the bathroom.  He was actually puzzling about the smell and wondering if the Best Buy had an issue with their sewage system. It didn’t.  It was ME!  But you know even though I stunk up the entire Best Buy bathroom and surrounding TV department, I didn’t care.  No one in that Best Buy in New Hampshire knew me and I felt so good to have it all out.

But back to my dad, where I learned to become a dysfunctional pooper in the first place, (Hey, Dad, EVERYBODY POOPS!) and his mad rush to get the family road trips over as quickly as possible.  Our most memorable road trip as a family was when I was 17 and had just finished the eleventh grade.  My brother was 12 at the time.  We lived in Nova Scotia, on the eastern coast of Canada.  My mother wanted us to visit her sister who lives in British Columbia (BC) on the west coast of Canada and instead of flying, my parents decided to drive to Campbell River on Vancouver Island, BC because supposedly they wanted us to have a learning experience out of it by seeing all of Canada.  (FUN FACTOID: Canada is the second largest country in the world!) As the trip progressed, I began to see that the learning experience part was more my mother’s idea. My dad, on the other hand, saw driving as a way to save money instead buying plane tickets for the four of us (which would have been very expensive and may have caused my father anxiety about the possibility of having to have a shit in the tiny airplane bathroom.)

The funny thing is we didn’t actually see much of Canada at all.  I mean, we saw it.  Some of it.  On the way up, we drove by the “Big Nickel” at the Canadian Mint in Sudbury, Ontario.  Then, in my dad’s rush, we skipped Manitoba and Saskatchewan altogether and drove through Minnesota, North Dakota and Montana instead.  We even passed by the site of Custer’s Last Stand.  We drove through the beautiful Rocky Mountains.  Thing is, although we saw all of these things, we didn’t really SEE them.  We saw them through the car window, yes.  Whenever we asked to stop to actually SEE any of these things, you know, as in get out of the actual car and walk around, my dad said, “You can see it from here just fine.”  So our photo album of our trip to BC consists of blurred photos of mountains, plains and the Big Nickel with the edge of the car window bordering each scenic panavista and landmark.  An important lesson I learned from driving across Canada is that it’s very difficult to get good photos from a car window.

Another thing I learned is that families should not take road trips across an entire continent together.  My brother and I fought with each other the entire trip.  My parents had to separate us by having one of us sitting up front with Dad while the other sat in the back with our mom.  We still managed to annoy each other diagonally from time to time.  And we constantly fought over who would drive “shot-gun.” Remember shot-gun?  Running and trying to call out shot-gun at the first sight of the car so you would be the passenger in the front seat?  This was back in 1991 too, so we didn’t have any smart-phones or even hand-held video games like a Game-boy to distract us from the long drive.  There may have been Game-boys available but my parents wouldn’t have bought us both one, so we would have just fought over that too.  Smart-phones would have been a blessing for us.  It’s not like we could really see much of the country anyway, since my dad was speeding across Canada in a mad rush to get back to his beloved porcelain throne in the sanctity of his own home. So a smart-phone would have really made things a lot easier for all of us.  Today, families can go on road-trips and not even talk to each other for the entire trip.  In fact, maybe another part of my father’s rush was to just get some peace and quiet from the constant bickering between my brother and I…  in the bathroom, of course.

We also had to use maps.  There was not GPS or Google Maps to direct us.  So we had all these road maps- they folded up into the size of a pamphlet but when you unfolded them, they took up the entire front seat.  Then one of us, usually my mother or I, would read out the directions to my father.  We didn’t have computerized voices, but it didn’t matter because we were quite capable of mispronouncing place names.  Then there would be arguments over which way we were supposed to be going, and points where we would get lost.  My father was surprisingly willing to stop for directions when we would get lost, unlike the usual stereotypical man.  I think it was because of how he was always in a hurry to get the trip over with.  He was happy to get directions so he could get to his “home bowl” a little bit quicker.

I feel truly sad for my father, who at 70 still hasn’t learned the wonderful lesson I learned at the Best Buy that day with my husband in New Hampshire: if you have to go number two in public, you should just go do it, because it feels a lot better after and it doesn’t create as much of a stink as it does after holding it in for 2 days.  And no matter how fast you try to drive across Canada and back, you’re still going to have to poop at some point before you make it home.  So to anyone else who’s ever had anxiety about being a public pooper, I say take the advice of the Nike ads, find yourself a Best Buy bathroom and “Just Do It!” 

~ Ocean 

Image courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net  “Cars Traveling With A Blurred Image” by RK008