She was the best of us all

I love her. 
That's easy to say. And I can't even believe how hard it is to express what I know/think/feel about her. 

I don't do eulogies. 

Usually.

Not for my many relatives, friends, acquaintances, father, brother, a few husbands (pause for Cary's gigglesnortwhee)
but this one... yeah.

I'm a recipient. 

Of her excessive kindness, love, concern, commiseration, sacrifice, care.

Those things are not equal.

Nor were her physical lungs equal to her heart. She needed a lung transplant but wasn't even on the damn list yet, in spite of being a non-drinker/non-smoker but because of her weight. Big FUCK YOU to the ones who decide, on high, who is or is not qualified to receive life. This is body shaming fucking illustrated.

My late brother gave every bit he had that qualified to others.
Nothing of me qualifies, but I would give it now or after.

Cary was in my age range. And we used to laugh, as she talked me through an abusive marriage, a heart surgery, 2 brain surgeries, and fleeing with a dog & 2 cats cross country.

She was an active proponent of animal's rights; one of the first Panther Pals. 

Our last, 4 hour conversation, a few weeks ago, she laughed, that, "we'll be old wicked women terrorizing young orderlies in some tropical senior bitches' facility' laugh.

Some part of me knew it was our last. 
But she was and will always be, part of my heart.

These kids today...

I've got more than 1 side to the "kids" today.


I have flu. But I'm also doing daily bloodwork to monitor my Coumadin levels for an entirely different issue, so I dragged my cooties-ridden butt out to get my daily bloodwork, then a lung scan.

I pulled in to the parking lot where I get my bloodwork done, and right next to me a guy pulled in apparently straight from Crazy Ed's World Of Really Big & Stupid Tires. It was so jacked there was a double drop step just for him to get in and out of it, and he was maybe 5'7'', 20 yrs old at most. It was Daddy Bought It.

Now, that's fine, I don't care, to each their own and all, but I kinda chuckled outloud, not even loud, really, and shook my head a little. But he flipped the frack out.

"WHAT THE FUCK YOU LAUGHING AT, OLD BITCH??" And came running around like he was going to jump me or something. 
So, I leaned against my car, very casually, twirled my cane like the badass majorette I used to be but can easily be used in ninja warfare 🙂  and replied, "You. Look, if you don't run over me because you can't see over the dash without sitting on phonebooks in your I Have A Small Penis ride, I don't care what you drive, other than sucking up gas like mad, but best case scenario, you end up impressing a bunch of people who are easily impressed by oversized thing then get really unhappy when you bop out, Shawty."

I don't think he understood any of the insults, but somehow knew he was being ridiculed.

He said, "Just shut the fuck up, old bitch!" Then he bopped on into the next building.

So I went and coughed on his door handle.


All the children standing up, speaking out, marching, and demanding we "adults" get it right or they will be doing some serious voting out the ones who enable mass shooting by access to automatic weapons make me so damn proud.


Tide pod eaters and condom snorters and SWATTERS. I don't even have to say another word, you got me on this one.


But everybody was young once, and we did some truly stupid shit, too, and most of us came through when the clench was on, so let's cut the pod kids a break, listen to what the activists have to say, and remember this man, today, on the 50th anniversary of his assasination

Trae Crowder, Buno Mars, and YouTube exist

I have had a shitload of mail asking why I haven't blogged lately. And the title says it all. 

I was in nowherenearadecentnetsville so long I had so much stuff to catch up on, other than politics, that I couldn't even take time to blog, but I didn't feel so bad because this guy 

 was saying everything I needed to say, and doing it nationwide to a much larger audience. Although, I've never actually said, "Meemaw," in my life.

Anyway, Trae had it covered, politically.

I've been through some stuff - finally able to flee Nebraska & hopefully get a continent away from the almost-ex, my doggy had lymphoma but nobody wants to hear about that & this isn't what this blog is about, I have avn and & nobody wants to hear about that because that isn't what this blog is about, suffice it to say  I made it past my 3 year mark on my heart surgery so YAY ME 

.

And Bruno Mars exists. I honestly had not gotten more than the odd snippet of his music before escaping Nebraska and getting back to the Land Of Net.

I had internet in Steele City, NE but I had to pay over $200/month to get spotty at best net. We had a pipeline that eventually will blow up (I know, because I knew some people who worked on it, and they were morons), but that was pretty much it. Township of 53 people, when I escaped.

Anyway, I did not have Bruno streaming there, or even know there was such a person, really, other than in credits of ,"Honeymoon In Vegas," which I, unlike the rest of the planet, bought because it starred Jimmy Caan. 

So I've been catching up, and adore this young man

and his music. 

But I've been playing it too much, and I know this because today when my doggy's treats came by UPS, and I gave him some, Geo slid across the floor and sang, "I'm a dangerous pup with some crunchy in my treat dish, KEEP UP,"

and one of my cats was in the background going, "Oh, so player."

This one is for the nephew

Psssst! I'll tell you a secret! 

You're allowed to have bad days/nights, hell weeks, months, years! But you can find joy even in bleakness, light in dark. It's the moments of joy in the worst times that get you through. I think that is why I have funeral giggles, because humor, laughter, shows me moments of light to contrast how bad things can get.
I say humor is my defense mechanism, but it is an offense mechanism as well.
I'm in a lot of pain today, but I keep thinking about my nephew, Jason Johnson, now a brilliant journalist and married to a wonderful girl - it's his birthday today, born 11/11/88 so it's easy to remember. I was living in Ozark with my 2nd husband at the time, and I told my sister, Juli Parrish, the night before to watch The Cosby Show because Sandra was supposed to have her twins on that episode and I knew that 1 woman, even acting, in labor triggers another.
It's true, look it up, I'll wait. 

It took you long enough, sheesh.
Anyway, we got the call mid-morning - they waited until it was last minute to call and we set a land speed record from our townhouse in Ozark AL to what was then Edge Memorial Hospital in Troy AL, rushed to 2nd floor maternity just as my late brother Loren came out of those famed double doors to announce, "IT'S A BOY AND HE IS PISSED!"

And that is how I get through the dark.

Blog Blast for PEACE

"All we are saying is give peace a chance"

I've tried to stay out of this shit, and wish 45 would! But.

Okay, look, here's the thing:
I know the "flag conduct" rules thingamajigger (my second husband was in the Army, as was my dad; I know this shit) says, "should stand facing the flag," during the National Anthem, which only became the National Anthem the same year William Shatner was born, to put that shit into perspective for some of y'all, ALL HAIL THE SHAT!
But, I haven't stood for flag nor anthem since '98 when I first had titanium rods implanted into my upper left femur for reasons which shall remain stupid (bowling accident, no, I don't want to talk about it - truth!) and not one person has EVER questioned me about it. EVER. Because of the hue of my skin (Mediterranean/Caucasion), and I know this for a fact.
So if I don't rise but kneel in spite of pain, not to disrespect flag nor anthem, then you know this is ME, kneeling but fighting against injustice. And THAT is real talk. 

I'm

There's this thing. A good friend adopted a kitten. Before said kitten was very old, she had to take him to her dr stabby, turned out kitteh had a congenital heart malfunction and rather than deal with it. She had him euthanized.
I kinda want to say, "You fucking bitch!" because if I had been put to sleep for having the exact same disorder... but I didn't say anything. And now this person's replacement cat has a problem... Maybe the problem is actually that an adoption, human/feline/canine isn't actually meant to be perfect or to make you appear to be perfect, that poor damn child my adoptive parents tried..  yeah, okay, I may be projecting. I don't care.
Don't give away or give up on your family, adopted, furry, human, decided, or any which way  Just don't or you'll end up at 7 a m on a Saturday trying to decide when it's appropriate to pimp slap someone for presuming it's okay to kill a cat for having the exact same thing.