Breathe deep, then sneeze

That's about a day's worth.

It's the most wonderful (not) time of the year, which is nearly (I hope) almost over.  That's right, once again it's pollen season in the Old North State, during which time we  long to fling open windows and gulp in great lungfuls of fresh Springtime air, but are often thwarted in such attempts by the sheer load of plant sex in the air that devolves inhalation into powerful coughing fits.

We really didn't have a winter this year, it almost never got cold enough to put on a jacket.  The trees don't know when to attempt procreation, so have been flinging out their romance for what seems like an extended period this year.  Then we'll have a freeze, REALLY putting a chill on matters, and a day later it will be 80F and it's knees-out season again.

I keep the windows open when it gets above 65F or so, and a glass of water is at the ready to combat the throat tickle that comes from breathing unfiltered air.  No complaints here - I heard it SNOWED in Maine the other day, and that's just too cruel.

---

So, there was this little basketball game last night.  NCAA finals or something (*wink*).  UNC won - it was a pretty big deal.  Both the kids were at the Dean Dome watching on the jumbotron, along with 10,000 other folks, and I've heard it was quite the event.  Franklin Street, which is on the north edge of campus, was totally swamped right after the game; which is fine because the cops blocked it off in case of a good outcome for our guys.

I did not watch the game.  My heart isn't strong enough for all that stress!

So, yes.  It's been a good year in sportsing my 'my' teams.  UNC men's bball champs, WFHS state football champs, and JMU's team did pretty well on the gridiron in 2016 as well.

No, I didn't watch the football games either.  I'm the kind of person who reads the end of a book before I ought to, too, so there's another thing you can call me 'freak' about.  Surprises and me just don't get along all that well.

---

Well, it appears as though the work truck has leaked out all its electricity, so I'm off to pick up Biff, who just got the thing inspected (!).

Fingers crossed this isn't a $500 repair...we just spent twice that to get it up to code!

Tiff out.

Ow, my aching...

Fire. Cracker.

My job requires a lot of sitting.  And staring at a computer screen.  And typing, data mining, researching, blah blah blah.

Oh, I KNOW how lucky I am, so don't make a habit of complaining.

But Lord have mercy I just took a lap or two around the house, then grabbed on to the rim of the kitchen sink and LEEEEEANED forward, stretching backward, and someone shot off a string of those little cracking fireworks right outside my kitchen window.

Oh wait, that was my BACK.

There was much movement of synovial fluid, friends, and I feel taller now.

---

Speaking of synovial fluid...

It's been while since the initial injury that resulted in my slicing off a little bit of my left middle finger right at the base of the fingernail.  It's probably been about a year since I sacrificed a little of myself to the kitchen gods, so the boo-boo healed with just a little defect in the skin because old people heal slowly.

Then, a few months ago, something popped up right in that spot - a swelling, a bleb, and a 'something' that concerned me, so I brought it up with my doc, who said 'it's nothing to be concerned about it just a mucoid cyst.' Better than a sarcoma, thought I, and so went home to research what the HECK a mucoid cyst is.

Turns out, when I went all Master Chef on my finger I cut deeply enough to nick the bursa around the top finger joint, allowing synovial fluid to LEAK OUT, causing the blebbiness.

Then, because I messed with it a a little, it started to hurt, so I did what any reasonable person would do, I pricked it with a pin and POPPED IT.

What came out was a little bit gross, like jelly that's really slick and sticky.  The stuff that lubricates our joints - the precious synovial fluid!!  So gross, so fascinating!  So...yellow?  Ew.

I put a pressure dressing on it and was good for about a month until I banged it on something, and it swelled again, I popped it again, and same deal - oozy synovial goo, only  this time...clear.

Apparently I missed the memo about getting your fluids changed every 40 years or so. Did anybody else know this needs to be done?

The doc said it might go away on its own, it might not.  It might always be with me, a little portal into, well, me.

And that's what happens when you get under my skin.  Goo happens.

Tiff out.

PS - mucoid cysts are apparently really common in folks with osteoarthritis.  Apparently the bones develop spurs that grind away at the bursal lining, and leaky leaky things happen.  How truly dreadful.

PPS - 'The Mucoid Cyst' is my new superhero name.  Guess what my superpower is??

Watching the storm roll in

The tide is turning.

Rolling inward this time.

IN.

In to the swirl and business, the tumult, the crowd, the chatter.

It needs to be borne, there's no force to conquer the wave.

The edge of the rip tide that's most comfortable to paddle in is swept away.

Instead, a boisterous party surrounds, where friends abound,

Who dazzle and frazzle and exhaust with their love.

It's a weird place to be at for a few hours.

But then the crouch of all the ocean behind the haunch of waves calls

It's time to go, RIGHT NOW, to go hunker on your sand bar

Safe and alone until the next tide hits.

Like breathing, but the out fits better, a sigh not a suck.

Tumble in, breathe out.
--

Putting words down...Tiff out.

I'm watching you

I don't subscribe to his channel
But I do know who he is...

I'm old enough to remember home movies.  On FILM.  I remember home movie night, when at the end of the film after the free end 'flapped' it's way on to the receiving reel, the screen would show up bright white from the  projector bulb and all the kids would get up and dance in the light like we were on stage.

Every. Time.

Then, home movies became all about capturing those special moments on videotape, and Lord how we were freed from the tedium of having to get the Kodak moments not only filmed, but developed and processed!  Instant gratification was to be had, and it was fantastic.  But, sadly, no light to dance in.  No imagination to spend, all we had was the reality of what had just been shot.

But still - that gratification was sweet, at least for the one time we ever watched the tapes before setting them on a shelf to collect dust.

Nowadays, everyone has smart phones and GoPros and social media AND, if you're really ambitious, a YouTube channel, where lots and lots of other people can watch your home movies!

I'm proud to say that I have only subscribed to 22 YT channels so far.  Is that a lot, or not that many?  I don't Pin or Snap or Insta or Etsy or Lularoe or anything like that as a huge time suck, so have turned to YT to fill my inner void.

There are a few food bloggers in my list.  OK, more than a few food bloggers.  This should surprise nobody.  There are some comedy channels, Buzzfeed in a couple of different flavors, a history one, a couple of gardening ones, a couple that never post but I keep around because memories of good times past, and a re-enacting one that I love because it's so dang calming and educational.  Almost every single one is offering up a teachable moment, it just now has occurred to me.  22 channels and not ONE that's pure drivel, though I was tempted by the 'Russian dash cam' feed a while back.  I figured I could dole those out like after-dinner mints once done with a binge watch, just to clear the head.

If  I have an evening at home with no family around and not much to do, I'll likely be on YT scrolling through the video feeds.  And, if the progress bars on the 'watched' videos are any indication, I get bored about 6 minutes into almost any of them and click away to explore something else.  I like my videos snappy!!  (Tip: video tours of Tiny Houses are almost always really quick if you only have a few minutes to waste.)  No shame - even in those brief spans of time I've learned enough that I can tell you the best time to plant courgettes (Allotment Diary) or how to make isomalt stained glass windows (Cookies, Cupcakes, and Cardio), or the best way to install a closure that lays flat (too many channels to count - look it up).  I know the best place to get all sorts of exotic Asian foods either on the street or in your kitchen (Foodranger, Mark Wiens, Soukyoung Longest) and why Beauty Blenders are the best (Grav3yard Girl).  I'm aware of how to make an earthen oven (James Townsend and Son), that sometimes you deserve a drink (Mamrie Hart), and political musical comedy is still worth it (Randy Rainbow).  I could go on, but you get the idea.

All of it utterly useless, admittedly (except for the earthen oven thing, obviously).  Completely harmless.

Just like me. ;)

Tiff out.

PS - tell me I'm not the only one with a subscription list 20+ long, please?

How to blow a bonus

Let's just see how many page hits THAT title gets, shall we?  Then dive right in...

This year is the first year in a few years that I was fortunate enough to receive a work bonus.  Listen,  I know how lucky I am to have the job I do, and never EVER forget to be grateful for it, even when occasionally complaining about it, but the bonus is a really nice garnish on an already full plate and sometimes garnish is tasty and useful.

GARNISH!!!

Garnish.

What a weird word.

When the bonus (all that parsley!) showed up in my bank account, I felt rich, as one might expect.  The account had bulked up to something I consider impressive and to an amount that most financial advisors say you should have in your account as liquidity in case of emergency.  Yep, for a moment I flirted with the '6 months of pay' cash level when the accounts were all totaled up.  Giddyup, hiyo, we're on our way to fancy-town!

Naturally, this state of affairs couldn't last.  I live in America, after all, and HAD TO SPEND IT!

Now, before you start to sweat and fret about how nuts  I went with all those monies, it should be noted that I had made plans for that money before even getting it, so I didn't go all willy-nilly and Amazonian cray in this heady new Scrooge McDuck-like fiduciary space.  Nope, I'm not THAT out-of-kilter, though I have every right to be because AMERICA.  :)

See, Thing 1 drives (or, rather, drove) a very old car that was leaking fluids with abandon and wasn't all that reliable anymore.  Overheating, sensors going, you know how it is.  Repairs are costly.

So  I bought a (reasonably priced) car.  With cash.  Because, bonuses are meant to be shared.

Now he drives a much newer, safer, more reliable (I hope) vehicle and Thing 1 is immensely grateful for this development.  He will pay me for the insurance coverage, and potentially start making payments to purchase the car from me in time.  Winning!

Then, because bonuses are meant to be shared, I shared some with Biff so he can finally go ahead with his flight instructor career and get out of the remodeling biz (for the most part).  Customer service can be exhausting, and he wasn't living his dream by renovating bathrooms, so BOOM, bonus further shared.  And bonus...gone.

I have no complaints.  Next year, though, I'm booking travel with any bonus I might get.  That's also a good way to share a bonus, by taking the fam someplace far away (like  Canada!) to experience life outside our little corner of the world.

Dreaming big here.  Canada.  I might just be crazy.

Tiff out.

A new season slides into town

Not the property we looked at,
but this IS on the same lake.

So, Spring.  Appropriately enough, it was warm and sunny today.  This is an improvement over what nature  was TRYING to shove down our throats recently.  Good grief, I almost had to wear an actual COAT, instead of a fleece or vest.

Another sure sign the Spring has arrived, and in merciful time - the Bradford pear quit blooming and we can now all breathe much more easily.   It's anyone's guess, and probably well-known in botanical circles, why the tree smells so BAD when in bloom, so I'm glad it's for a short period of time that this year was accompanied by frosty nights so the blooms fell off right sharpish.

Also, lawnmowers are starting up all over the neighborhood.  Shoot, Biff mowed the backyard the other day, which I thought was early, but according to Facebook is right on time for this neck of the woods.

It's going to be 80F here tomorrow.  Straight into summer.

---

A couple of weeks ago my younger brother, Biff, and I went up to Smith Mountain Lake to look at a piece of property that was 1) on a decent part of the lake, 2) very flat (rare!), and 3) reasonably priced.

We didn't buy it.

Why?  Well, because the a) land is full of fill dirt so a perk test would require a BACKHOE to get to proper soil, or that b) the seller was going to ask the buyer to do the test (!!!), or that c) the concrete boat ramp  that takes up a fair portion of the right third of the property would be taken out if I had my druthers but in fact isn't private but instead has deeded rights for the neighbor to use when they want to, or that d) the neighbor's shed can only be accessed (currently) by using said boat ramp.

No, really, doesn't that sound like a GREAT DEAL??

Yeah, me neither.

Nor my brother.

Nor Biff.

Best of luck to the sucker that buys it.  We'll be sure to take a look this summer to see if it's sold.

Sixty-eight thousand dollars for that mess?  No thanks.

---

There IS a piece of property on the water going for less than $40K.  2.5 acres.  Gently sloping.  On a decent part of the lake (read: not waaaay down- or up-stream).

Gets me thinking: Wonder what's wrong with it?

Giant nest of zombies?  Sinkhole city?  Ghosts of former illicit whiskey distillers hidin' out from the revenooers?  Copperhead breeding grounds?  CLOWNS?

Gotta be something.
---

We missed the chance to dress up our holiday ravens like Cupids and Leprechauns, so I took a few moments today to deck them out in bunny ears and noses for Easter.

I hope you decorated your holiday ravens similarly.

Tiff out.

Time to hypersalivate!

What to do with condensed milk.

Not too long ago Biff and I went to the Sam's club to pick up 4 (FOUR!) items.

We left with a cart full of stuff, and still needing to get 2 (TWO!) items that the Sam's didn't have in stock.  That's just how things go, right?

For some reason I have yet to figure out, Biff plopped a 6-pack of sweetened condensed milk in the cart.  I think he said 'it's a good thing to have on hand' or some other shady thing, but I'm not sure there's ever a really good defense for picking up that much sweetened condensed milk.  Y'all let me know if I'm wrong.

Of course, now that the stuff was in the house I needed to find something to DO with it, to associate some value with it.  Thus,  I went recipe shopping, and the internet did not disappoint.  Behold, I bring you a pound cake recipe ripped directly off from the Eagle Brand website, only with a process order that makes sense instead of what you'll find here.  It's my opinion that recipes should start with mixing up ingredients before jumping directly into the baking stage, but maybe that's just me.

Tiny House Pound Cake

• 2 cups softened butter
• 6 eggs at room temperature
• 2 1/4 cups sugar
• 1 can sweetened condensed milk (15 oz)
• 1 tsp almond extract
• 2 tsp vanilla
• 3 cups flour
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• cooking spray

Preheat oven to 325F

Coat tube pan/Bundt pan/Fluted fancy tube pan with cooking spray and dust with flour

1. Beat butter until fluffy
2. Blend in sugar and eggs, beating after each egg and scraping down bowl
3. Blend on high for 3 minutes and incorporating/scraping
4. Mix in milk, vanilla, and almond extract
5. Mix in flour and salt, blend on medium for a minute.
6. Spread in pan (batter is really thick) and bake for 90 to 95 minutes.

Cool in pan for 15 minutes, then for an hour after taking it out of the pan.  It's OK to pick off some of the crispy crust if you have too, but don't go overboard because other people might want some.

And there you go - a dense ring of calories that carry all the shame and regret you can muster in a delicious coating of decadence.

---

It's March, so that means the lawn guys are back out, blowin' and mowin'.  Rather akin to spotting the first robin of Spring, that.  It IS sunny and in the high 60's, and I am in the South, so this is not an entirely unexpected turn of seasonal events.

What's it like in YOUR neighborhood today?

With that, I take my leave.  Someone at work is expecting something from me, and I must deliver or perish!

Tiff out.

Count on it

Happy Monday, folks!

I slept kind of poorly last night, as is becoming a more regular occurrence (Why God, WHY??), and so spent the last 3 or so hours of darkness on the recliner in the living room, practicing deep breathing while wrapped in Biff's flannel robe with a fluffy towel covering my legs.  I was the picture of comfort, and absorbent materials.

Spent some time being grateful to be alive, which I find a useful thing to dwell on when one is awakened at 4:30 a.m. by terrible dreams and one is tempted to 'poor me' one's self on a loop.  Sure, terrible dreams and missing out on precious sleep is rotten, but at least I woke up, and that is in fact something for which I feel grateful.  That bit won't always happen, the waking up.

Does that seem a bit morbid?  Probably.  No excuses though; it cheers me up and adds some perspective as I lie in a nice recliner wrapped in a cozy robe and prepared for spills of all types.  Some people don't even have a towel (bless!), much less a roof over their heads or other such niceties.

And, having dwelled on that thought for a little while, I got some sleep.  I enjoyed that part very much.

---

I use Blogger to blog.  Seems like the right thing to do.  All along in the 11+ years I've kept this blog, Blogger provides a count of the number of views and comments each post gets.

Proud to say that at one time, NAY was read by sometimes over a hundred people per post.  ;)  Wooo!!

Now though?  I won't have those impressive numbers to review in my golden years, because as of today it looks like all those posts were read by exactly 0 people.  Some of those 0 people provided comments though, which is confusing to me.  Is it ghosts that do that now?

To be fair, some comments lately are more along the lines of 'I make $9000 per week reserching old shoos and butterfly harvesting for an international conglomerate of navel-gazers who want to give you a million monies if you would pleasae just buy our yoga clothes.  Love Abbagabbadingdong Al-boingocha'  I don't think those commenters read my posts at all, so maybe ghosts ARE reading and leaving no trace but for their pitifully confused lamentations/invitations to make shady money from the great beyond.

Still, ZERO.  It's disheartening.  I got all excited a little while ago seeing that one post got 163 views, but now I can't go back and bask in that glorious number anymore.  It's gone, all gone.

I'm just a big zero now.

SAD!

Tiff out.

Make a new me!

Goals

The trials and tribulations of the imiquimod saga are still with me, and I'd have to say this one thing about it: healing HURTS.

And itches.

And burns.

Sure hope it's worth it, and I won't still have to have surgery after the lesions have healed.

No, I'm not going to start treating the other shoulder quite yet.  I'm not nearly that masochistic.

---

You know this person I'm about to describe: the friend who sells shakes or skin care or cleanses through social media and obsesses about those things, making thinly-veiled attempts to get you to sign up to be a special customer or whatnot to help them grow their business.

We all have them.  You know you do, and you might even be one of those people.  No shame there, and good on ya for becoming an entrepreneur.

I have a few friends like that, and by and large have resisted their entreaties for a greater involvement in whatever product line they are spokesmodels for.  I can erect a pretty strong wall around my money when necessary.

But.

I've recently started using this eye cream and this lip serum sold to me by a friend, who promised great things and showed me 'before and after' photos of real people experiencing real results with the use of the products, and I bit.  Just a teeny-tiny bite, but bite I did.

I know.  Me and self-care?  Nearly imponderable, but dang those B&E's were gooood and I wanted a piece of it for my scaly old self.  You can talk all day but pictures (generally) don't lie, even if you DO have Photoshop Pro.

And you know what?  After about 3 weeks of using this stuff on a daily basis, my eye crinkles are lessening and my lips are plumping up and are way less chapped than they have been for, oh, the last three years or so.

Well worth the money spent, IMHO, as there's TONS more product left in the pots and capsules, even though it's said that each pot lasts only a month or so.

Tish tosh to that.  TISH TOSH!!!  I'mma squeeze 3 months out of each container.  I'm SAVING MONEY!!

(refer back to the money wall)

Then recently, a new offer was made to pick up a 'bundle' of products at a reduced price (even more if you sign up for the 'special customer' deal), which includes a lash-growing product the B&E likes of which I was captivated by.  Who doesn't want long fluttery lashes in only a few weeks' time?  Nobody, that's who.  Even boys want that Justin Trudeau ish, believe me.

For sure by now you know what I did.

I bundled up, baby.

Bottom line is this: by summer my skin should be soothed (that damned rosacea isn't going away by itself), my eye-skin should be almost line-free, my lips should be bulbous and lush, and my lashes should be sweeping nearly up to my eyebrows like they did what I was 16 (no lie - they did).  I have high hopes.

And if all that doesn't come to pass, I'm stopping all the Rodan and Fields products and start living life as a lonely goat-herder and former Miss America contestant up in the mountains of Mebane.  Because that's all that will be left of my life to achieve.

Goals, we all should have them.

Tiff out.

Imiquimodding it up

Looked about like this to start.

If you don't know by now, I am a middle-aged white lady who is, through a series of unfortunate decisions regarding the sun and teenage job choices (lifeguard should never have been on my list of things to be), prone to skin ailments.

I have had multiple things frozen off my skin, two things cut OUT of my skin that required plastic surgery, a couple of other things just straight-up cut out, a few 'shave' biopsies, a round of Efudex (preventative), a couple of rounds of light therapy (another preventative) and now, the latest in the series, I'm undergoing imiquimod therapy for a basal cell carcinoma on my left shoulder.

It works like this: you get the news that you have a BCC, then the doctor either says 'let's go for surgery' or they say 'you can use this goo once a day for a month and see if that gets rid of it.'  I opted for the goo this time, and since the middle of January have been applying it once a day to the spot and surrounding area, as it says on the label to do.

For a couple of weeks, nothing happened.  That indicated to me that the shave biopsy got all the bad stuff.

How naive I was.

Starting around week 3, the spot began to inflame.  And itch, and swell up in a dermatologic snit.  Not long thereafter, an adjacent spot began similarly snitting.  Another BCC or anomaly?  Possibly, so I widened the treatment area a little, and am now suffering the comeuppance of that action, as there are now 4 added small spots that have loud-mouthed their way into my awareness.

FIVE spots that itch and hurt.  In the bra-strap area.  Understandably then, I have not worn a bra in the last week unless absolutely necessary.  I hope sweatshirt season sticks around a while longer, but it's supposed to be 80F today and I'm not sure I convince ANYONE that a sweatshirt is needed under those conditions.  I pray for a strong wind to make a cover-up a plausibility.

Yesterday, after I took a shower and thereby softened up the scabs on those 5 spots, I had a burst of enthusiasm and got dressed to head out to do some errands.  That included an unfortunate decision to wear a bra (it was in the 70s!) and not tie up my hair, which goes to the middle of my back when loose.  I also wore a loose-necked shirt, because comfort.  Things were going great, except for the intense itch of once of the spots that hides out under a bra strap, until I turned around to grab the seatbelt and a strand of hair that hds gotten STUCK in a scab tore loose and just about made me say a bad word.

That's right, I ripped off a scab using only my HAIR.

Y'all, I don't know how women get their nethers waxed, if it's anything like ripping off a scab by the hair-removal method.  That chit burns, folks.

Nearly 24 hours later, as I sit here typing this, I can feel each and every one of the irritated spots on that shoulder.

As a result, I have stopped treating the area.  Enough damage has been done.  Six weeks is two weeks longer that I was told I needed to treat, and so I applaud myself as an overachiever, satisfied that I've done what's needed.  Treated one spot, came up with 4 more.  Enough.

Tomorrow though I might start on the OTHER shoulder, just to see what's there.  And maybe buy a strapless bra, so I can be publicly supported while my shoulders go all meth-addict.

Time will tell.

Tiff out.

Hurry up and wait

Happy Wednesday, y'all.

Let's play a game today, OK?  It'll be fun!  It doesn't involve any kind of physical exertion either, which is great when you're a desk-chair-bound sloth like myself.  Perhaps you are too, and worry that playing a game might be too much for your sluggish systems, so fear not!  The only thing you have to do is answer a few simple questions that anyone with a speck of logic will find easy.

Ready?

Here goes!

We're going to make a cake, two ways, you tell me which one makes more sense.  We'll use a box mix to make it easy.

Way One

• Preheat oven to called-for temperature
• Empty the bag of mix into a bowl
• Add eggs, oil, and water as called for on the box
• Mix either by hand or with a mixer according to the directions
• Prepare pan(s) according to the directions
• Pour batter into pan(s) and place in preheated oven
• Bake for the specified amount of time and until tester comes out clean
• Cool 
• Frost
• Take to neighbor's house for dinner party.

Way Two

• Put eggs, oil, and water into bowl
• Walk away for a week
• Panic when you see the dinner party invite on the fridge and realize it starts in an hour
• Dump cake mix in bowl
• Stir a couple of times
• Pour batter into a pan slightly larger than called for so the cake will cook faster
• Put in cold oven you've set to a slighty higher temp than called for so the cake will cook faster
• Take a quick shower
• Remove cake from oven at specified time, remove from oven.  Don't bother testing, there's no time.
• Place cake directly in freezer, go get dressed
• Hear can pan shatter from the hot-to-cold transition
• Remove from freezer, pick out large shards of glass, run vacuum over the cake to get the remaining pieces.
• Dust with confectioner's sugar (who has TIME for frosting?)
• Take to neighbor's house for dinner party, arrive 15 minutes late.

Question: Which method do you think would yield the better result?

Think long and hard on this.  Don't feel like you need to rush to decide.

Ready for the answer?

It's Number TWO!!!

Or it is if you're me, and a work project is all 'cart before the horse and we have three minutes to go 12 miles.'  I'm working on the most upside-down kind of project ever, and it's a challenge staying ahead of things and not falling into a panic.  Like, seriously.  Not linear at all.  Not even 2-dimensional.  This thing is all arms and legs and tentacles.

Currently the situation is such that I'm waiting for finalization of 2 things that in normal circumstances would have been done and dusted BEFORE I start my chunk of work, and the thing that would normally start AFTER I'm nearly done is beating my stuff to the finish line, which is coming up fast in the ol' rear-view mirror.  That of course means that all the folks working on this stuff have to keep an eye on everyone else's stuff so that nothing that gets packaged together argues with whatever else might be in there and everything is presented the same and contains the same info.

Not really the calm cool method normally used, and is proven to get a reasonably good result.  Nope, we're smashing eggs and getting confectioner's sugar all over the place in our metaphorical kitchen, hoping that everything will turn out in the end.

I mean, it'll still be a CAKE, it just might not be as nicely frosted as it might have been.  Or even  frosted at all, like poor 'nailed it' Barbie's picture up there.  STILL CAKE!

So, right - good job on playing along with me!  Hope you learned something!

Have a slice of this cake.  Oh, it might be a little crunchy, so don't bite down too hard.

Tiff out.

Rumble rumble

The very one!

Lord y'all.  Or you, or whomever might be reading this.

It's been a hot minute since I last wrote.  A New York Minute, one might say, or perhaps a cotton-pickin' one, as if there's any difference amongst things that are all 60 seconds long, which there isn't, but must be, if at least three varieties, aside from a regular minute, can be offered up.

Meaning to say, it's has, once again, been a while since I popped in to say anything atall.

However, with the way things are going over on social media and in the world at large, it might just be that the number of whatever type of minute you might choose is likely to be shrinking between entries here at NAY, because the world is just a little too much for me right now and escaping the din of politics on Facebook and the endless slaughter of innocents on the news seems the right medicine to choose right now.  I've been negative for way too long, and need to rise above the smoke and mirrors to peek a little more clearly about what's going on in my life and brain.

You are invited  along to the peep show.

---

Spent a lovely Saturday with Biff after having a tiny spa getaway Friday night.  Biff was having some back pain, which cried out for a hot tub treatment, so we snagged a room at a local hotel that has such a thing (see pic above for a nearly live-action shot!) and soaked and lazed around and watched 'regular' teevee on a king-sized bed (the luxury!) and soaked some more in the morning.  I do love me a hot tub, so am inching ever closer to spending some savings on one for our very own.  Surely spending a few thousand is better than spending increments of cash on a hotel room 3 miles from home, right? (Someone set me straight on that logic, please.  Has to be along the lines of 'let's buy a jet ski and pay for maintenance and insurance and a trailer instead of renting one for a fraction of the cost for the week a year we use one.' (note: we have not yet bought a jet ski, chiefly because we have no place to store one for 51 weeks a year)).

We spent Saturday, well, SPENDING.  Sam's Club got some slice of dough, with a real impulse purchase thrown on top of the regular heap: a 'cooling' memory foam mattress topper (only $139!) with (of course) new sheets also because our old ones won't fit the height our mattress + topper will be.

If we ever get the topper on the mattress, that is.  The hurdle we're currently attempting to leap is the SMELL of all those terrific chemicals that are used to create the 'cooling' effect, which smell like a headache a-coming.  Takes 24 to 72 hours to air that thing out, so the labels and instructions say.  We are on Day 3 of airing, and that sucker still smells like disinfecting day at the Shady Acres Boarding Kennel n' Rest Home. 'Oh, but the treatment is harmless!' says the label, to which I reply - well so is perfume, but given the 'right' type and amount it can still give folks a powerful migraine.  So, out over the porch rail it sits, baking in the sun and degassing.  Biff is all excited to put it on the bed and revel in its therapeuticness (remember that back pain thing), but I am less so (dat smell tho).  Fingers crossed it's non-offensive by suppertime, 'cuz we really have followed instructions and don't want to have to shove that monster back in the box and return it.

Then we bought a new storm door for the front door.  The old one had a sprung hinge, and kept unlatching in a stiff breeze, breaking the closer thingie, and rendering the whole notion of a storm door pointless.

Also, groceries.

---

Then on Sunday, at 1:41 a.m., I lurched out of bed knowing something was the matter, and barfed.  Spent the rest of the wee hours changing it up between barfing, resting fitfully on a recliner, running to the potty for 'other' reasons, and having the worstest of dreams.

Good ol' times.

Was better enough to have a wee dinner last night, and hoped for the best for today, but I was kidding myself and so am here, typing this, nursing a cup of cream with coffee in it and slugging down water.  Canceled my meetings for today and will shortly lose myself in updating a document for a quick review meeting tomorrow.  Things could be worse though, so one must keep plugging along.

---

I'll wrap this up with this: the daffodils on North Main are abloom.  The 'Purple Queen' plants are emerging in the front garden, and forsythia are popping out like lil' weasels.  I do believe that this means Spring has arrived in the 27587, and that is a happy thought.

Tiff out.

Placeholder

You have a fresh mouth.

Must be jelly, 'cause jam don't shake like that.

Can't believe that peanut farmer is going to be President.

We don't think that you are getting the right things out of college and are thinking of not letting you go back.

We don't see that your relationship is going to work out.

I can't believe you voted for him.

I can't stand looking at him.  Never mind HER.

Someone should just shoot him.

Gays are disgusting.

Interracial marriage is disgusting.


---

Only one of these things has been said by me.

All of 'em, on the other hand, have been said by people I love.  This is why I struggle now - hate/disdain/contempt are being poured on in abundance while peace has to fight to  be recognized.

Shouldn't it be the other fucking way around?

I just...can't.

It's November 12, 2016.

We have a new President, it would appear.

This is not a President to shout about from the rooftops, no.  This is one to mealy-mouth from the sewers, as that is where the new President's attitudes seem to be.

Meet them where they are, right?

When they go low (how low can they go?), we go high (how high do we have to be?).

It's four days after what I regard to be one of the worst days of our country's history, and I'm still not over what happened.  Forty years ago I bemoaned Carter becoming President, but I'm older and wiser now.  I make my own mind up, based on what I believe is right and good.

I believe this: Love is good.  Tolerance is good.  Understanding is good.  Intelligence is good.  Benevolence is good.  Insight is good.  Planning is good.  Strategy is good.  Listening is good.  Working toward a common improvement of our lot as humans is good.  Caring is good.  KINDNESS is good.

This time, the US didn't elect what I believe is good.

Plenty of people did though.

It's baffling.  Disturbing.  Unsettling, distressing, upsetting.

This will take me  a while to process and accept.  I'll go high, and try to envision us in the US as a people united behind our presumptive new president, but don't think I won't choke on the notion more than a many number of times.

Didn't think we had it in us to elect a truly reprehensible example of a civil servant (he's not (a civil servant, that is)) to office, but it appears that's what we've done.

Even though she got more votes.

And he said the election was rigged.

Fetch me my mouth guard, I'll be grinding my teeth for the next little while y'all.

More from the "Letters from Lyn" series

I'm really enjoying re-living the past through letters, so thought I'd share this one too.  I'm glad to have had such a faithful correspondent in the "pre-Facebook" (or internet, for that matter.  Pre-cell phones too) era.

This one is from 12 May 1981, or about a week after we finished our first year in college.  It's written on mint-green paper and has a matching envelope.  It's printed in blue ink in Lyn's distinctive handwriting.  It pre-dates the previous Lyn letter by a little, and answers some questions that were raised by the first one...

Goes like this:

---

Me, nearly 19, in my freshman dorm room.
The shirt says 'Musicians do it with Rhythm.'  Classy.

Hello!

I had all these things to send to you, so I thought I would get them off to you before they piled up.

I have to run...

Always running errands and doing work around the house!

So far, vacation has been okay.  Nothing spectacular, though.  The wedding was really nice - the weather was very warm and I wore my new dress.  Jack and them liked it.  Afterwards, I went to Tim's 4th B-Day party.  He was really cute; so excited over everything.

The baby is adorable - he lungs are certainly healthy now - you should hear her cry!  I kept the three of them Sunday so Bettilu could go to church and see Pete being baptized.

Monday I went job hunting - I start Thursday!  There's a new fast-food type restaurant opening up called Bojangle's.  It should open w/in the next 2 weeks.  Thursday I go for orientation+ I begin training next week.  I'll be a day-shift cashier starting at $3.45 an hour.  Also - I'll be working Christmas + next summer at the Baptist Book Store.  I'm pretty will situated - extremely lucky too.   There are people practically crying for a jon.

I talked to David C. today  He's going to take me to the VCU weight room every once in a while so I can keep up this summer!

The pictures all came out really cute.  I thought you would like these.  I found the post card when I was cleaning my room.  Thought you would like to show Mom.  The other picture of you and Chris is really good, but I'm sending it to Chris.  The one is funnier.  The one's of Matt and me are good as is the one of me + Sam + the one of Chris that you took.

Tonight I'm taking Tom to a small family get together.  My Aunt Mary is having everyone over for desert (sic).  All of the little ones will be there (my second cousins, etc.)

Well, dinner's almost ready, so I'd better run.  Write soon,

Love ya, Lyn

P.S. - I really miss all you guys - I'm not used to being by myself!

---

There's a note on the envelope that she had a date with Jack that night.  I sure wish I could remember who Jack was.  No memory of him at all.

It cost 18 cents to mail this letter 35 years ago.

Minimum wage in 1981 was $3.35, so Lyn was hauling it in at 10 cents more than that an hour.

Tim is now 39 years old.

The Chris mentioned in this letter is not the 'perfect hair' Chris from the last one.  This Chris did have perfect hair, yes, but was a HS wrestler and a year older than me.  Good kisser.  ;)

I was my younger son's age when I received this letter (almost 19), and much thinner than I am now.  Had more hair and fewer wrinkles, more nerve and less sense.  What a journey!

Tiff out.

Unread for more than 30 years

In keeping with the previous post, I shall now transcribe a letter I received more than 30 years ago (Good Grief - 1984) that it appears I had never read.  The seal was perfect, and I had no idea what was inside.

This is it, though I will not revel the sender.  It was a guy, who I don't recall having a relationship with, but we were obviously friends...and it's written on lined paper with a rainbow in the upper left corner, in very neat handwriting.  So, yeah, maybe not a relationship (IYKWIM).

---

1-17-84

Dear Tiff (ed note: he used my actual last name, obviously)

Hi babe; how's life at old JMU?  I figured I better write you soon or you might think I forgot you.  Well believe me I haven't forgotten you and I really miss you a lot.  How's classes coming along so far?  I haven't found a job yet and my car still isn't fixed but it's coming along.  All they have to do is get my new bumpers on and she'll be ready to roll.  How 'bout them Dukes winning two in a row.  I hear the Convo was really rockin' for the Navy game and the Electric Zoo was back in full force.  I wish things were that exciting around here!  So how's your new dorm?  Say hi to your new and old roomie for me.

I know it's kind of late to bring this up now, but I just got the Christmas card you sent me before I left school.  It was beautiful and I'd like to thank you for it.  Thank you!  I didn't read it until I got back home and it really did cheer me up a lot.  I really miss JMU and I hate myself for screwing up the way  I did.  There's just two things to say.  I really do appreciate the card and the way you treat me, you have to be the best damn friend a guy could ask for and I don't know what I'd do without you and secondly I love you!  Thanks for always being there for me and if you ever need anything you konw I'll always be there for you, you just write or call or drop by you're always welcome!  Thanks for being such a great friend.  Hope you have a great year, son't study too hard and hopefully I'll see you soon.  Tell everybody I said hello and I'll see them soon.

Love always,

X

---

Y'all -I have no idea or memory of what went down, but it must have been big.  Dude didn't come back to school.  Screwed up somehow and didn't come back.  We were friends, and I've forgotten all about this.

I'm so glad I kept the letters, so that at some point the past might be put back together.  Or not, but at least I know that at one point I was good to this person and he loved me for it.

Maybe I wasn't as big a screwup back then as I thought I was.  A voice from the past tells me this might indeed have been the case.

Tiff out.

In which I transcribe a letter received in June 1981 from Lyn Hovatter

Y'all.  We have been rearranging things in the house (ie, clutter), and I have uneartherd so many jewels from my past.  College yearbook photos, stuffed animals, greeting cards, and LETTERS.  Remember letters?  

I KEPT ALL OF THEM.

Like this one, from my still-buddy Lyn, quoted in full:

---

June 16

Hello!

Well I have lots to tell you!

First of all, the "trial" was today...and...we waited for 1 hr. 45 mins, got up on the stand, waited for Officer Wade to get there, and the, they said "Thank you for helping us catch the real vandals, you're dismissed!"  Just like that, The whole case dismissed!  I has pretty happy.

Anyway, KD was fun - very hot, but fun.  Flintstone Follies hadn't opened yet, they were still in rehearsal w/opening yesterday.  Chris was really funny.  I went looking for him & gave him your greetings.  He invited us to a complete  run-through of the show.  We went back and Beth and I got used.  This guy jumped off the stage, grabbed us and made us go up and dance during the audience participation number.  I had to dance with Lem B (Remember?  from Madisonians).  I had a blast. Chris has lots of solos and he even gets to walk in the audience and serenade the ladies w/ 'Breakin' up is hard to do.'  He is super.  His voice is perfectly suited for that.  Scott Babcock plays drums for that show too.  Chris says that his outfit is hot pink.  I'll be it looks good though.  Oh!  He got something done to his hair - it's still perfect, but ti's short and wavy - I think it's a perm.

Anyway...I'm at work - 2-11`, then 6 a.m. tomorrow.  Yeah!  Herb is manager in charge tonight - he's a trip!

I'm on break,  I have to go back in 5 mins and I probably won't finish this until tomorrow.

Jack was really cute - he called this a.m. before I left for court and told me not to bed nervous.  Then he calle fomr work, when I got home to find the 'verdict.'  He also promised to help me celebrate my B-day on Sat. evening.  Beth will too, I'm sure.

Amy and Liz gave me strawberry everything!  Shampoo, bubble bath, candy, gum, lipgloss, air freshener for the car, etc...It was hilarious, but I love it.

Sam called and may come down the weekend of the 27th.  I hope so, that'll be fun.

Herb just came by and I thought he was going to yell at me for writing this on his time.  Instead he said 'Tell Kerry I think she's really cute!" (watch Kerry' head swell!)  I told him you said he was too, when you were here.  Too bad he's married, eh?

I wrote Audrey today and caught her up on everything.

Well, I gotta go - write soon and tell Mom, Dad, Kirk, and David hello!

Love ya,
Lyn

---

Lyn?  I have no idea who Herb is.

Or Jack.

The rest of y'all I remember.

We'd known one another almost one whole year by thins point.

We've been friends now for almost 35.

God we're old.

Tiff out.

Things and stuff.

This is going to be creaky as sheeyit.

I've forgotten how to write in long sentences, all strung together, with a common thought to bind them one to another.

Many things are to blame, but the focus right now is on Facebook, and how easy it's made it to 'connect' with people we either know, want to know, or don't know at all and just clicked' friend' in a moment of stalkery/drunkenness/enthusiasm/evil.

It's all so easy.

And, well, predictable.

A friend (hiddenmahala, go read her now) has started blogging again, and it's like a breath of fresh mountain air sweeping through a musty valley of ennui, I have to tell you.  She has words, they're good words, possibly the best words, and she will and does use them better than anybody else.

However, I too have words, and feel like using them, so...

---

It's a beautiful evening in the 27587.  Cool, clear, bright still in the late afternoon sun (it's 6:30 as I write this; we won't see dark for at least another 2 hours).  The windows are open, birds are mingling voice, wind is shushing around the grown-in leaves on the trees.  Traffic noise is minimal, and for some strange reason nobody is mowing their yard right now.  It's peaceful, is what it is.

The day has been fitful, at once productive but not nearly as much as it could have been.  I've yet to absorb the 'text on nature' photo memes that exhort to make every day count, go conquer the world, be breathtaking before breakfast, etc.  I just don't have that kind of life life anymore.  Making every day count to me now means making note of the small things, like waking up, and peeing when I want, and being in love, and having something tasty for lunch while living in a home I can afford in a body that doesn't hurt most of the time that can pick up a book, whenever, and read.  Making every day count doesn't mean I have to DO anything, now, it means that what is present in this day, counts.

Even if I spend 80% of it in my pajamas, it still counts.

---

My desk is in our bedroom.  It's three steps from bed to work.  The desk is positioned so I can look out our bedroom window into the back garden, where nothing is planted.

The squirrels and birds don't seem to mind.  They are busy out there every day, pulling worms from the soil or hopping picket-top to picket-top (birds the former, squirrels the latter).  Every so often a flitter of activity catches my eye, and I must look out to see what tiny bit of miracle is there, doing their thing.  It's wonderful, to have that window.

After I had my second son, by c-section, I was confined to the hospital for 5 days (4 nights).  I was not allowed to go outside, so I wandered the halls in search of a vantage point that would get me the widest views, the sunniest spot, the vista I longed for, that sense of space.  I would wheel my baby boy in his bassinet with me, because I had gotten in trouble once for carrying him around the halls, the nerve of me.  Seeing the world was a connection, a necessity, to keep staying present with what was happening, even if it was something as mundane as a car pulling into the parking lot, a child's voice, a sailboat coming into the marina.

A window to look out of is important.  Appreciation for what is present in it is important too.

Gitchu to a window, and see what you've not noticed before.

---

Like I said, I'm rusty at this.  I'd hate to go on too long, and I think this is long enough.

I'll be back soon.

Tiff out.

10 minutes or less

Poems don't have to rhyme anymore
But in fact if they do
They're not really poems
As we see them

Lypmherics, perhaps
and exhaustion of the
limbic store
A place for amusement

Poems.

Stupid.

They don't rhyme
and they're not prose

What purpose then,
the poem?
What shunt of mind
 where is the bevel
thepoint
exactly.

Why write it.

At all.

.

And then I got a hole in my face to keep from getting a potentially bigger hole in my face someday

I have posted before about my experiences with skin issues.  10 years ago I used Efudex for the first time to banish any proto-cancers from my face, which worked....kinda.  I was really hoping to get good and pizza-faced from the treatment, but was not to have all that gratifying of an experience, instead suffering with tons of tiny ITCHY spots to deal with that were also painful.  It was a good thing my dermatologist told me to only do half my face at once - otherwise I would probably have clawed all my skin off to lessen the pain.

Apparently, though, the Efudex didn't get rid of all the issues, and I wound up having some actinic keratoses and other curious things frozen off my face, after which time the Derm said 'You know what?  Eff this individual freezing-off business, let's blast you with high-intensity light after pretreating your skin with dangerous chemicals so as to make your teeny-weeny possibly almost cancer-face bloom in a fury of growth that is unsustainable and thus short-lived, eh?'  

And I said yes.

So, we did that.

But only after I had my first surgery to get rid of a basal cell carcinoma on mah fayse.  Because it needed to go, and short of pouring a glug of concentrated hydrochloric acid onto the tumor, only surgery would get it out for sure.

We did the surgery, I started booking in derm appointments every 6 months instead of yearly, and occasionally got things scraped or frozen off, no biggie.

OK, those two 'shave biopsies' we did last year still itch from time to time, and they're never going to look pretty now that they're scarred over, but there wasn't anything bad lurking in there and they're on my back so  I can't see them so...they're largely forgotten about.

Then, a couple of months ago at a regular ol' derm visit, another biopsy was done of a spot on my nose.  I tut-tutted the notion of this being ANOTHER BCC, because hadn't all those other treatments pretty much eliminated the chance of another one developing?

"Well no, just not as MANY" said my dermatologist.

And thus and appointment was made for mo' Mohs.  On my nose.  

Mohs surgery requires a numbing agent (1% lidocaine with a lil' epinephrine to stop bleeding) to be injected into the surgical area.  Which, in this case, was MY NOSE.  NEEDLES IN MY NOSE!  I nearly cried from anxiety.  I hate needles.  Especially in MY NOSE.

But I lived through it, the cutting, the cauterizing, and then the three subsequent hours I had to wait until I was scheduled to arrive at a plastic surgeon's office to 'do the closure.'  Guess the Doc who did the cutting thought the 'defect' was too significant for her to handle.  Whatever, sister.  Hand off the fancy work to someone else now that you're done hacking at my face.

You know what happens within 4-6 hours of administration of injectable anesthetic?  It starts to wear off!!   That's right!  You get to experience 1) pain and 2) more shots in the schnozz to deaden the new pain that is to be introduced once the plastic surgeon starts stitching!   

But, you know what hadn't fully happened to me in the time I had to wait?  The 'wearing off' effect, so that when the new doc started in with the needle I was instantly thankful to the heaven above that my bod was clearing the first round slowly.   Sweet relief!

The upshot is that I now have 7 stitches on the right side of my nose where a hole used to be that took the place of what was a cancerous growth, and that's OK.  The cancerous growth could have been MUCH larger, the Mohs could have gone on much longer, and the repair could have involved flaps of skin being moved around on my mid-facial region.  I'm too old to be to vain, and if surrendering some vanity (like, for example, getting to walk around with this big ol' blood-soaked dressing on my mug for the next 5 days) means I get to live knowing that at least ONE fewer issue will crop up to do me in, then I'm cool with that.

I don't kid myself that it's the last removal I'll ever have, or that it's the last skin issue that will ever happen.  Too much damage has been done for that.  Oh, and just to be sure we continue to catch things in time, I now have to go to the dermatologist every FOUR months.

She must have her eye on a new boat or something.

Tiff out.