Wednesday, May 28, 2014


No, this isn't going to become a blog that rants about the woes of perimenopause, so the 3½ males who read this site can relax. But seriously, if you don't sympathize with your wife during these trying times, you're asking for physical injury, so suck it up, gents! Luckily, my husband has about the kindest heart on the planet. I pray I haven't abused that kindness too badly this month. It's been rough.

I've been dipping back into projects slowly, things that speak to me. Bought tank tops, realized they fit too well, so they will serve as camis for now, but still needing workout tops that bring the sun to my arms...I'm cutting the sleeves off t-shirts. But combine those with my latest ball cap and I look like I just stepped out of the cab of a big rig, and that's just a shade too blue collar for me, so I'm hoping to spend my evenings the next week or so, sewing them at the sleeve and collar area just a bit to look more like tanks. Hopefully this will naturally lead to the apron building I've been rolling around in my head the last month too.

Got my first notice from the IRS.

Lil Sis registered us both for the Brew Dash. I'm in no shape to do a 6K naturally, which is why I pushed it so hard...I need real goals to motivate myself. Since that sucker's looming just 3 weeks away, I'm back to walking on a schedule, and jogging when the spirit moves me. I try not to give a damn about speed, but this is a timed 6K. Depending how godawfulhot it is that day, I may not care either. There's a comment right on the site that they don't mind walkers, so long as you stay out of the way of the runners initially. I can always time myself, and I probably will, just for kicks. Races are meant to be methods of pushing yourself, seeing what you can accomplish.

I have zero brain for work this week. I can feel myself rallying, hence the subject line, but it's an all-over waking up of the brain from the hideous fog it's been swamped in the last 3 weeks or so. With all the season finales over with, I'm at loose ends TV-wise, which has to be a good thing, and a good reason to get the hell away from the evil box for awhile...but it's a process. I ache to be outside more, so at least it's been easier to get out and walk...the key will be keeping it up after Brew Dash.

Friday, May 23, 2014

Random post

Since we're likely not going to be blessed with children, we definitely need more animals around this joint. One pathologically unfriendly cat ain't going to cut it. I mean, seriously, now I get how SAHM blogs are so popular...the kids provide unending material. This has been a dry week.

We celebrated Les's birthday this week. I tried too hard to cook him a nice meal and it didn't come out as well as I'd like. I tried my hand at banana cream pie and way overdid it on the whipped cream, and I added too much tomato paste to the beef and barley. He was a good sport about it, but birthdays are hard for him. One family member or another will usually forget to call him, and it definitely stings harder with his dad gone.

We went to Godzilla yesterday. I went into it never seeing any of the old flicks, not really caring about it, and had a blast. It was nice to get out of the house too...we were low on gas and money this week, and cabin fever was setting in nicely.

About once a year, my moon cycle will jump off track and go way late. It has done this for my entire 30something years of "being a woman" and I should take it in stride. But when you're 44, polycystic, childless, in denial about perimenopause, with a medically impotent husband...yea, I've already said too much. I'm just sorting through some extra fun emotions this week.

I've been thinking about looking for a real job. But I'm also recognizing that these thoughts are dictated by fear of the debt we're in, and that I need to sit down, really look at the numbers, and figure out how to make this lifestyle work; because I'm much happier working from home.

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Craggy Gardens

I post pretty infrequently here these days, I fitness quests are still logged over at Melanie's Gym and my gardening and homesteading posts over at Dark Meadow Farm. I'm just changing a bit, I think...not wanting to pour everything out in public, diary-style. Shocking, I know.

But I visit this blog daily, because I troll the blogs on my list at the right, and having Dad up is quite bittersweet, so I thought I'd push him down just a pinch for some pics of Craggy this past weekend.

Mom and Lil Sis came up for Mother's Day weekend. We went to Wake on Saturday, and hiked to Craggy's high outlook on Sunday.

Wake deserves its own post. It's a foot sanctuary that offers soaks and massage for surprisingly reasonable prices. I can't wait to go back! It was the most relaxing experience I've had in ages!

The Blue Ridge Parkway, from Ox Creek to Mount Mitchell, was closed all autumn and winter, due to a 6-inch crack in the road caused by the torrential rains we encountered last summer. In spite of a busier snow season here this past winter, the contractors hauled some tail and got that stretch of the Parkway reopened in time for Mother's Day weekend. Makes sense for the tourism industry, but given our cold and wet winter, I wasn't expecting it to reopen before Memorial Day, so it was a nice surprise to read last week.

The rhododendrons aren't in bloom yet, but everything is lush and green, so the views from the top of Craggy Gardens were lovely.

Dear Department of the Interior, could ya maybe toss just a pinch of money Buncombe County's way so they can repair Ox Creek Road? It's abysmally torn up from the heavy-duty dump trucks accessing it to repair the Blue Ridge.

I digress...I'm glad it's open again. We access the Blue Ridge from Ox Creek, and I'm dying to go to Mount Mitchell, Grandfather Mountain, and other points north this summer. Can't wait to get to know my state better!

Monday, May 12, 2014

7 Years

It's that time of year again. Time to take note of the big guy.

Aortic dissection has subtle warning signs, no cure, and a 90% mortality rate. Dad had his first one in 1982. I guess you'd call it a near-miss, because they were able to operate and place a Dacron graft, a procedure that was pretty damn new at the time. Fast-forward 32 years and we're still talking about a 90% mortality rate, because when that sucker springs a leak, you better have put your affairs in order.

That graft lasted 25 years, and I wonder if it could have lasted longer if he'd lived just a pinch cleaner. I don't say that to be mean; it's just fact that the man was a meat-and-potatoes, butter with a side of butter guy and it certainly contributed to the artery blockages that put stress on the graft. But the real thing that killed him was old medicine; in 1982, when they placed grafts, they were still oversewing the aneurysm, and that meant taking away space, however microscopic, in vital arteries leading to and from the heart. Dad's carotid became 100% blocked, which meant his jugular was doing the work of two, which meant there was no way they could operate to repair the problem without serious risk of him stroking on the table. Since Dad never wanted to linger (he'd watched his own father vegetate from a debilitating stroke, and never wanted that for himself), it wasn't discussed.

Enough time has passed where I don't place blame or rant and rave over the injustice of losing him so young. The ache is no longer a daily occurrence. But today, May 12th, will always be bittersweet and a time of reflection. He wasn't an easy man to know, but I'm forever grateful for my life and my time with him. I miss him dearly, and hope he's proud of me.