I'm Still Not 40

Hi gang..

It's been awhile I know..

First it was my back, then it was a cold and last of all, a weekend of bad eating caught up with me Montezuma-style.

But here I am, popping in for a moment.

I have this plan where I get my house in order over the next week, then dedicate my October to finishing my "Really Long Story" and making Halloween costumes.

After that, I will be in fighting shape for National Novel Writing Month.

Oh yeah, and I have to make apple butter, finish my nephew's birthday quilt (his birthday was in May) and make sauerkraut.

And run a household, raise them damn kids, and that newsletter that I like to send out (don't forget to sign up- Random Shit and Meditations for The Mildly Irreverent)

I can do it. Maybe.

One of the big reasons why I have been so desperate to get on here lately, although life keeps getting in the way, is because I looked at the calendar and just had to point something out to a lot of people.

Growing up and being the youngest in a large group of friends can be very difficult at times.

I was the last to turn 16, which meant I had to scramble for fake ID's whenever we wanted to go to a punk rock show in NYC.

Getting a boyfriend was hell, being jailbait for what seemed like forever.

I was the last to turn 21, which meant sneaking into bars. Thankfully the place I grew up in had a lot of all ages shows.

Everyone was solidly in or just getting out of puberty, so my "budding breasts" where often pointed out.

Yep, they called me "Bud"..

I could go on for a long time about how much being the youngest sucked.

But here I am, finally reaping the benefits of being the youngest of you all.

Because I'm still not yet 40..In six months I will be, but then, I will still be farther away from 50 than the rest of you!

Ok that felt good! I've been waiting for years for that... I know pathetic, but when you are the youngest,  you treasure these opportunities.

Ok, back to my hot water bottle, my arthritis is acting up..

Notes From The Can

I went to use the bathroom and took my laptop with me.

I was in the middle of a conversation.

Realizing the time, I had to quickly finish (sorry..gross..I know) and smuggle the computer back downstairs without B noticing.

He was still in bed but has flashes on consciousness at this time.

I don't know what would be worse,

the fact that I was using the computer on the can

or the explanation that I was in the middle of a very important conversation with my best friend and her daughter.

About public masturbation in Sweden and the notorious Swedish bicycle fucker who is on the loose.

Luckily I was as sneaky as that wacky Swede and made it out and back downstairs with B none the wiser..

Ok. That's my story. Thanks

Even More Shit

Have I ever told you about the old friend of mine who is deathly afraid of vomit?

I mean deathly afraid. Phobic.

The poor woman, everywhere she went, people were puking. It's true. Everywhere. Even on airplanes.

I don't know about you, but I have never had a person vomit on a plane near me. Happened to her all the time.

And it's crazy, because I went out with her one night and we were surrounded by people either about to vomit or in the act of.

For me it's shit. I am surrounded by all types of fecal matter on any given occasion.

Instead of being afraid of it, I just embrace it. (No, no not literally-gross, people c'mon!)

In my line of work, at home, everywhere.

This Saturday, I stepped in it in my bathroom. It wasn't me.

I went on to discover that one of my progeny had sharted and just left it.

Gotta love the 1 AM shower and sheet change.

I went into hysterical laughter in bed afterward  over the word "shart" and later at Sunday dinner gazing at one of my other children, thinking of how mad they would be if they knew that their sibling had sharted in their bed.

Last night, I came home from picking B up from a work dinner.

I hobbled into the house (remember my back-doing much better thanks!) and was greeted by one of the kids (who will remain unnamed-you can probably figure out who it was, I'm sure)

The child ran up and called my name excitedly.

Suddenly both of our eyes were drawn to a small brown pebble that seemed to have tumbled from out of nowhere.

I said, "Is that a dog kibble?"

The child screamed, snatched it up and ran for the bathroom.

I shook my head sadly and said, "Gross."

You can't just make this shit up, ya know?

My Ass Is Killing Me

I am happy to help out my friends and neighbors with rides and childcare. It makes my life easier as the kids are less demanding of my attention when there is a friend around.

I like to help people and for the most part, I never truly expect any repayment. I like to do things for the sake of doing them.

But in light of what happened yesterday, I may have to call in a couple of "you owe me's"

Ya'll are going to have to come and toilet me while B is at work.

Well, it's almost that bad.

I was working the bees for this woman. It's a nice little side job, I like getting paid to do something I love.

I was picking up a box and twisted wrong.

The thing that sucks is that when you are in the middle of it, you can't stop. You absolutely have to put the whole thing back together and be finished.

My lower back is a writhing mass of discomfort, with pain shooting down my leg and my arthritic hip chiming in to boot.

Happily, after completing that last inspection, all three hives I look after are all ready for Winter.

Everyone is looking good, and it's been a good year for me, although the season started on a very crappy note.

No more lifting heavy boxes of stinging insects.

 With the exception of a possible move of my smaller hive to my home.

 B can do the lifting if we go through with it.

(crossing my fingers fervently)

Hopefully I can try to rest and get better.

I hear that bee stings are good for muscle aches.

I am considering taking a trip out and dropping my drawers in front of a hive in the hope that a bee will oblige me.