Author: Karebare42@aol.com

Thank you my five followers for reading/reacting/zzzz through my posts.  It is a momentous day as I head out to a field to sweat with the masses and say goodbye to my retinas.  I have the cereal box ready to go but I know as a tryer that it’s just not going to keep me from sneaking a peak at the eclipse.  Big peak.  Challenging the gods peak.  The Boomlennial made the rules to break the rules and science be damned.  At this point the best I can hope for is a big cloud or a bebe that needs a distraction because I would NEVER let them look up heaven forbid.  My irresponsibility only applies to me which is another subject for another time which I hope to explore with perhaps a keyboard with raised dots on it.  Or better yet the fake news is in the cardboard sunglasses business and it’s all just media hype.  You have to think that the people in the world not controlled by others telling them what to think might just be a bit curious why it’s getting dark in the day and take a gander skyward.  And continue on with their day not realizing they were supposed to burn their eyes out.  So they don’t.  Or maybe they do.  Will check out CNN in the morning so they can tell me half the country has gone blind.  And it’s Trumps fault.  Fortunately,  I can switch to FOX where they don’t even address it and my day will continue in ignorance.  And hopefully light.  Or maybe grateful there’s medicinal weed.  Goldenrod, that is, which I will pick in the field while I can still see. Continue reading Goodbye my dear retinas

I won’t tell you a story about my cousin’s friend who died of lemons.  Words can be tricky.  And scary.  And sometimes totally worthless.  My thoughts and prayers are with you.  Really?  Are they?   I’m sorry for your loss.  Who even talks like that?  When ‘you know who you are’ utter those banal sentiments there is surely a message you want to convey.  But what is it?  Would it be so hard to come up with an original phrase that at least made the receiver not immediately throw the card away?  No I wouldn’t do that.  Ok maybe. Once(ish).  ‘You know who you are’ wouldn’t want to do anything to add more pain to the situation so they fall back into the socially acceptable, unmemorable tried and not necessarily true phrases.  Sometimes a genuine, emotional outburst at least conveys that you are trying to connect.  One of my dearest was at the funeral of one of her dearest and a friend told her that she understands how she feels because her Rolex died and she was so upset.  Can’t make this stuff up.   But telling time is important.  And it was a Rolex after all.  But, as ridiculous as that sounded at the time it was just someone trying to connect as best they could.  If you pray for me thanks but don’t stand and wait for a pat on the back.  ‘You know who you are’ stood and told me three times that she was praying for me until I realized I wasnt giving back the response she was looking for.  Yes you are wonderful and thanks so much for going beyond anything I could imagine and no I’m not worthy of your prayers but let me comfort you.  Ok that was snarky but still.  Words are powerful but a totally inappropriate comment at least makes me know that ‘you know who you are’ is wishing they had just said I’m sorry for your loss.

……you’re on your fifth dog.  People leave your life for a variety of inexplicable reasons.  Some with wings, some with two men and a truck and all your nice furniture and the cats.  Please.  Some because it just becomes too much of an effort to stay in it.  But the dog(s).  Very poor shelf life.  Very bad bathroom habits.  Can’t keep a fur coat on no matter how cold it gets.  And yet.  And yet.  Here I am with my fifth dog and not quite sure why.   Do I want to sleep with him? No.  Do I want him to schedule my life?  No.  The fur situation?  That’s just an embarrassment even I don’t want to talk about.  Fortunately, I gave up trying to remember the gender of the dog(s) so suffice it to say I  have a male.  Or a female.  But the why still baffles me.  He/she is asleep at my feet and will get up leaving a fur outline that resembles a crime scene.  And yet. And yet…..

No.  One.  Ever.  All of you have been dieting your whole life.  Maybe. Possibly.  Even you skinny people.  If only because you wanted to be part of the conversation and the Boomlennial is obsessed with this topic.  Most of us because we need to be after coming of age in the land of plenty.  TV dinners.  Mac-N-Cheese, pot pies.  And yes that powder in the blue and yellow box is cheese and those little cubes in the pies are vegetables.  And to sit in front of the TV with that tray table was the height of fine dining.  We slowly expanded our (there is a joke in there somewhere) choices to include anything that could go in the microwave and McDonalds which I thought was going ‘out to eat’.  A whole diet and exercise industry was created for us thank goodness because we needed it.  And still do.  What do we all talk about when we go ‘out to eat’?  Exactly.  Depending on the current media sway we are counting, discounting calories, carbs, protein, fiber, gluten, chicken beaks, fats, and most things that taste good.  Fortunately, wine contains none of these things so we are safe (google it and don’t believe their fake news).  And yes it is good for you.  And chocolate. And not the bitter dark stuff but the smooth creamy stuff.  Lotsnlots of the smooth, creamy stuff.  Ok I made that up but we went many years not eating any butter because it was the devil but now margerine is vile which our taste buds already knew but oh well.  My advice….don’t eat kale.  It is a nasty weed (and yep my mind just took a different route stay tuned) and have a margerita.  With salt.  Lotsnlots of salt.  Also good for you.  Google it.

Being a boomlennial is a-lot-oh-work.  The maintenance involved just gets a bit tedious sometimes but we’re too far in to back out now.  I would imagine that we all have doctorS.  Lotsnlots of doctorS.  Every body part needs it’s own doctor and then of course all that fabulous information has to be sent to The doctor who has a massive file probably starting with ahole and ending up with zits.  Which of course the Boomlennial doesn’t have because then your wrinkles would have zits and that just wouldn’t be fair. (Karma are you listening??).  So now my mouth is numb and I’ve been drooling for the last four hours after introducing another doctor into the mix but I’m thinking he never asked me who The doctor was and I now have an incomplete file at The doctor and what if something goes drastically wrong and my cloud is just floating around without The Big Picture and and and and and and I better lay off the Motrin.  Still pissed about not being a mermaid.

Now that I have your attention it is my twenty -three letters/numbers/Cheerios/symbols password I use to get into my ‘blogue’ as my manfriend autocorrected.  And I kind of like that word.  Makes me feel French. And skinny.  And that I should light a cigarette.  But back to the sucky password.  They won’t remember it. They won’t let me change it to one with only twenty-two letters.  You know the ones the Boomlennials like. The street where you grew up with your first dog Bover.  The really great ones!  The ones you remember and can use for everything without being judged.  This sight had a graph that actually critiqued my password. And they hurt my feelings.  Barely got off of Go so they knew it was going to be awhile and just gave me one and that is why it has taken so long for a new post.  Exhausting.  The Boomlennial experience is often times a-lot-of-work.  We mean well.  We want to be team players. But menus and hold queues  (yes I had to look up how to spell that) and judgmental passwords sometimes just seem like a little too much work for the payoff.  I want to share fascinating thoughts with you but just not ready to lean into the suck.  Which is a phrase I read in a self-help book that had nothing to do with passwords, but embracing and acknowledging when something is really bad and just letting it suck.  It’s not alright. I do not need to apologize for feelings or actions.  I do not have to get back on the horse and risk breaking a nail.   Passwords suck.  Don’t judge me.

Now that I have a captive audience of five I’m starting to make people nervous.  No names please.  (You know who you are so just relax…..)  I liked to joke when weird circumstances or surprisingly not nice people would just leave me shaking my head that if nothing else it would be a chapter in my book.  And everyone laughed and patted me on the back and said yes dear you’re right.  Because they knew I would never write a book or remember the exchange or move on to a new nail color and that would be that.  But now.  Now I have an ongoing crawl going on in my peripheral vision and when I start shaking my head I’m also hiding a little smile and thinking how useful this might be.  The Boomlennial is not about to be discounted so easily it seems.  The people a little unsteady right now don’t leave me shaking my head so they are on terra firma.  For now.  So family, friends, manfriend, collegues, dog.  Be nice.  The End

…you did something for the first time?  Quickly!  Phone a friend if you don’t have that answer.  Many times we get very comfortable in that zone where it’s a bit unnerving to leave.  But but but.  But I love that restaurant.  But I love vacationing there for the gazzillionth.  But last time I ventured downtown the stores were all boarded up and scary.  Of course it may have been twenty years ago but but but.  A couple of much (much!) older men then us introduced  the term ‘bucket list’ and the Boomlennials have grasped on to it even though it’s about things we want to do #beforewedie.  Sure gets me excited ugh.  I have a much better list that starts with an ‘F’ about the things I’m not going to do again.  Mundane things.  Things I’ve done #todeath.  Time to move more things off the bucket list and oh never mind.  *ucket.

One year ago a friend and colleague of mine were sitting on a cooler in an asphalt parking lot thinking OUT LOUD.  The hot sun was probably melting our brains as we were finishing an almost three week marathon picnic schedule which is fun and work and not fun and not work and always layered with many emotions.  And basically we just ran out of sweat.  So V says OUT LOUD that some days she would just like to get in the car and drive to Montana.  And I laughed.  OUT LOUD.  And then said HMMMMMM.  We looked at each other and it was ON!  Of course once we found out that Montana was wayyyy far away and planes actually do fly there the idea was tweaked a bit and within three weeks we were white water rafting, horseback riding through Yellowstone Park, zip lining and riding ATV’s off of mountains.  BIG mountains.  Terrifying mountains. Didn’t say all our decisions were good ones but when you think OUT LOUD you’re kind of committed.  Once those ugly hiking boots were laced up there was no turning back and that was the best part. Montana is a beautiful, wild place and the majesty of those mountains made thinking OUT LOUD a grand idea.

After spending two weeks ‘setting up a blog’ that was supposed to take 20 minutes according to the video, I decided that good enough is good enough.  There were endless high powered decisions that needed to be made.  Themes and fonts and plugins and the COLLAPSE MENU which I shutter to think what it even is but knew enough to avoid despite how temptingly it called.  Boomlennials are tryers after all.  So I gave up on all the rah-rah and decided that content (current buzzword after all) was what is the fascination here.  My son asked if I’m writing as a form of therapy.  Maybe.  Possibly.  But more accurately I get stuck on certain levels of Candy Crush and refuse to buy my way out as a matter of principle so have to come up with another time waster.  You know we have to keep our minds engaged blah blah. So come back often (speaking of wasting time) and I will offer great insight on the inner workings of the Boomlennial and why we should still be celebrated and not just with the drug ads during the news and Sunday morning shows.  Which we of course are not watching because we are training for a marathon.  Maybe.  Possibly.