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Except it’s not. It’s February. And Valentines Day, sigh. So why are the Ides at my back? Of course, I had to google Ides to find out what I’m even talking about, and I don’t think it’s Julius Caesar getting assassinated. But since I like how it sounds, I’ll continue. The whole winter has had this Marchish feel to it. And if you’ve been keeping up with my fascinating blogue, you know I hate the color of March. Hence, the madness. I’ve been studying my house in bad lighting because of this March color, and I don’t like what I see. Somehow, it’s becoming an old persons house. This high-steppin Boomlennial does not like that!*&$! About fifteen years ago, I did a complete remodel. After living in the same house for twenty years, it was time. They say three moves is the same as a fire, but neither of those options over the years was my MO. So I ‘moved’ out, packed up or threw out. Emptied the house completely. Redid some bathrooms and kitchen, and lots-oh-cosmetics. Came back to a bright, fresh start. I loved it! Felt like a new house, but also the house I loved. Now. Now. Fifteen years later it’s getting tarnished again, and looking dated. And messy. Moss is growing back. (Not really, but metaphorically speaking. I’m not a bum.). Marie Kondo, a professional organizer (Really?? That’s a thing?) wrote a book. In it, she has six rules. Basics. But number six said to look at objects and see if they spark joy. If they don’t, heave ho. Good advice. A lot of things in my house Did spark joy, but after years they barely get a howdy do. What to do, what to do. Rekindle my romance with them?? Start a fire? Talk about our good times together? I used to make fun of ‘old’ people houses, but just a tad concerned that I’m heading in that direction. (Heading, I said. Plenty of wiggle room there.). Really just need to get outside in the sunshine. Oh, I’m a hoot. March madness has gotten to me. I need a chocolate heart. #lovethestuffyourewith

I love your eggs. I’ve been in that post-holiday funk where I’m really ready to attack the New Year. But, am I?? My mind says yes, but my robust body is stuck in that well that’s no fun mentality. The talk shows are throwing out the healthy year, healthy you rhetoric, and I listen listen and want to pump my fists and cheer, but those dueling wolves are at it again. There’s a great Cherokee parable about two wolves living inside us. One is all the bad stuff-evil, greed, anger, jealousy, resentment, and all the nasties. The other is the good stuff-joy, peace, kindness blah blah blah. So a little boy asks the wise Indian what wolf wins? Wait for it…..wait for it…. The one you feed. Get it? So my angst is trying to fend off the nasty wolf. I started journaling daily, figuring if you send out the positives into the universe, it will manifest itself like the gurus like to preach. But I’m realizing as the days go on, my writings have a tinge of growling in them. Come on, wolf! Give me break! No more jotting down evidence of my downturn. This time of year is always fraught with the dark uglies outside, so probably not the best time to try to change the world. Or yourself. Patience is probably in the good wolf’s arsenal. And wisdom. And perseverance. And strength. And hope. And truth. Hey, maybe I got this! I am enough. Actually, I’m probably over qualified, but let’s start out humble. Not today Devil. Not today.

Me: OMG same!

Not that I talk OUT LOUD, but I do have ongoing dialogue going on in my brain non-stop. Especially at 3am. I really shouldn’t worry about this too much, being that I am the most fascinating person I know. Lately, however, my wee dearest has been calling me out about odd stuff. Things that I never really thought about. Or realized there was anything wrong with #oldperson. One day she opened my pantry and was just astounded by how much food there was. Now I don’t eat at home much, but I guess it doesn’t stop me from shopping for ’just in case’. Just in case there is a blizzard and the streets aren’t cleared for a month. How would I ever make it that long mile to the store?? Just in case I get so sick I’m housebound and no one remembers me?? (I better start being nicer.) Just in case there is a pandemic and you are not supposed to leave the house. Okay that really happened but who wants to eat cans of soup during the stress of all that?? There really isn’t all that much, but when you add in the flour for baked goods you don’t make, side dishes for no main course, and every tea, jelly, and salsa from gift baskets that you will be eating during the blizzard, it does seem like a lot. Duly noted. The youngun thinks it’s weird, and that’s where I take my advice these days. Bisquick for dinner. With a side of ground mustard. But there’s more. I went to a Halloween ’do’ with that youngun and she was all about my costume, or lack thereof. For years I’ve worn the same skeleton earrings for every Halloween. I’m talking her lifetime, and much of mine when I felt the need to be festive. I’m not much for dressing up as an adult, but this year I bought an orange sweater with black bats and spiders. Really outdid myself for the ’do’. With the skeleton earrings, of course. At the end of the evening, my wee dearest told me that she appreciated my effort to wear something besides the earrings. She said I’ve been wearing them her whole life, and at least I did Something different. The backhanded compliment! She was picking her words carefully so as not to offend, and I thanked her for noticing my new sweater, but she was just about to shake her head. She knew I missed the point. It’s Halloween!! Make a splash! Yep. Got it. OUTLOUD. Next year I might have to abandon my old ideas about the holiday and really do it up like a fool. I can be taught. Okay, been saving this one. What do you call a wolf that has been to therapy?? Aware wolf. #sayitOUTLOUD #seehowfunIam

Unless you are really stressed or busy. Then make sure you get two. Ain’t that the truth. Now that the weather has taken an aggressive turn, I am already feeling the relief I get from being outdoors start to fizzle. This week I bundled up for my walk and thought I was safe. Windy with peeks of sun which I was determined to take advantage of. But…..I looked ahead of me and thought I was lost in the desert with a dust storm ablowin in. What I wasn’t prepared for were sheets of graupel pummeling me in the face. Graupel, much like grappa, is the mishmash of hail, sleet, snow, and ice. I prefer the seeds, stems, skins and leftovers of wine making to that sh*t and I just wasn’t mentally prepared. Felt rather assaulted. I prefer walking naked, which I found out a little too late is about not using technology on your excursion. I shouldn’t be such a trier without getting all the facts. I heard naked walking was trending, and I was all about it. Oops. No music, no Fitbit, yea yea get it now. Earthing, or grounding is also a thing, but I tread lightly with that one. BARE feet. Do the research first. There is all kinds of science behind it, about exchanging electricity with the earth, but I was just thinking of childhood. Who didn’t love to go barefoot as a child? Stones, prickers, and bees be damned. So in the morning when I would take my beast out, I’d really try to commune with the wet grass and be one with the world. Exchange my ions or whatever needed a reboot. Really try to find quiet peace with the universe. Until…..I realized the number of dogs I’ve taken out on said grass over most of my lifetime, not to mention the abundance of wildlife I share my yard with, and ewwwww. My communion with nature was just a bit too personal, electrons be damned. Next time I need grounded, I’ll also take the childhood route and go straight to my room. With clean feet. And some grappa. Get naked with the window open, and ponder the meaning of that word.

NOOOOOO!!!!! You know the Progressive commercial about how not to become your parents? Hilarious! Until I realized it is about US, and they are making fun of US. I only own up to one thing, but there are others I’m sure. And I’m working on it. I do have an annoying habit of asking adults if they have to pee before we go out. I guess I make sure I hit the head before I leave the house, and kind of think it’s a good idea. For me and my TODDLERS. But now I have that commercial saying we all know how the bathroom works. Wait till he has to go and there’s no potty in sight. I’ve also been calling out ’a very dear friend’,who shall remain nameless so he can continue to be ’a very dear friend’. He doesn’t care how he looks to those younguns, so I must be the attack dog he just loves (?) to hear from. Little things. Those lines you are supposed to park Between. Nope. Doesn’t care. Paying with cash? THROWS down so many bills and change the poor cashier doesn’t have a clue what to do with. No problem. Take the penny and add it to the twenty and subtract the ones and give me a quarter and a nickel back. Yep that all makes sense. To him. Change and money are all just handled differently these days. Go with the flow. Now I do have something the younguns do that I think is stupid. Yes, stupid. Although all people do it. If you only need a few things at the grocery store why do you carry that big, bulky basket around? First off, you’ll probably pick up another item or two. And that basket is heavy just empty. Push the cart. Does that only make sense to me?? Light, fast, and no sore arms. Don’t even get me started on how long self-checkout takes. Kind of fun, but slowwwww. I’m practicing, though, because I know that will be my only option soon enough. Guess that will get me to stop drinking so I don’t have to announce to six stations that I need my ID checked. The really sad thing about all this, however, is that I just proved their point. I am cranky pants. Little things get on my nerves. I/me/we are old(ish) Boomlennials. Nothing that anyone aspires to be. If everyday is a gift, today was socks.

It isn’t the mountains ahead to climb that wear you out, it’s the pebble in your shoe. Actually, I kind of think that mountain would be so daunting that I’d never get as far as the shoes, but that would shut the story down pretty quickly. And how can I discuss feet without a lofty introduction?? I went to a very chi chi affair the other night, or it had that intention. It was outside. In September. In Ohio. Now you get my drift. No, not snowdrift. Yet. That’s October. Anyway, normally everyone get’s decked out in little dresses and pointy shoes and looks very Gatsbyish. But, oh, the weather. Rain, chilly, and appropriate for jeans jackets. Lots-oh-jeans jackets. I didnt quite get the dressage right, but I have to say a jeans jacket never was an option. Of course, my Manfriend’s sports jacket worked just fine, and that wasn’t part of my master plan, either. But, what I got Very Wrong were my shoes. They were sandalish. They had a heel. And they hurt. I realized after wearing flipflops or tennis shoes all summmer, my feet didn’t know how to wear shoes. (Who am I kidding? I haven’t worn shoes in three years.) Slippers during Covid started a trend that I havent’ really broken out of yet. But, most disconcerting, my feet were in my head. I once traveled to Europe with a friend who said he didn’t enjoy himself because his feet hurt. When he got home, he made it his mission to get comfortable shoes. and it rocked his world. Sadly, I think I’ve reached that point. If your feet ain’t right, your head ain’t right. Damn pebble. I’m not quite ready to go full orthopedic, but think the heel thing is done. And the pointy toe. Which I never could pull off anyway because my foot is shaped like a shoebox. None of those jeans jackets cared what shoes I wore. (They also wore a lot of boots. A craze I can dig.) Since I always have very lofty goals, I’m on a mission to be right by my feet. Show them some love. I’m sure that whole mountain thing really wasn’t about feet, but saying how sometimes it’s the little things that drag you down. Or something deep deep deep like that. I just happened to read it after my feet epiphany, which reminds me I do have some very comfy hiking boots that I wore all through Montana. Everyone did. With real jeans jackets. Now I’m excited!! #trending #TikTok #nextcomesarmpithair

Enough with the kudos already. It is one of those overdone words that has become part of the post-pandemic culture. First everything was unprecidented. Then redacted. Then part of the woke mob. Then something something. Now because I have too many virtual meetings everyone is getting kudos. And because I am immature and it sounds like cooties, stop already. It just sounds fake. If you are in the office or with someone, you might say ’nice job’ or ’atta boy’. Pat on the back. Pat on the back. Virtually, if you want to recognize someone, you give them kudos. Lots-oh-kudos. It just annoys me. (Did I say I was immature?) And because I watch too much news, repeating news, not breaking news, I just keep hearing the same words and phrases repeated. But…..I have to come out with my darkish secret. I love TV! Really look forward to it love. I’ve always had the TV on, but was usually multi-tasking. Reading a newspaper or magazine, writing a fascinating blog, scrolling through worthless social media, painting or biting my nails. Never fully engaged. But now that I’ve managed to spend even more money on streaming services, I just can’t get enough. I plan my day around when I can watch TV. I make sure I’m well rested. I tee up my coffee to make sure I’m sufficiently wired. There are just so many shows that are in my wheelhouse. (Just where is my wheelhouse though? And what even IS a wheelhouse????) Books that I’ve read and loved are now series. I see naked men. And not just from the back. I am totally engaged and wouldn’t even think about picking at a nail. Just a whole new world of good entertainment. Kudos to the writers of those shows. Kudos to the actors who make me forget they are acting. Kudos to the naked bodies that are more than boobs. Kudos to me. Just because.

Ends. Sometimes that is all the closure there is. The happy ending might never be there, and unless you are a quarterback with enough cash to pick up women in bars, just accept your transition. Yes, and……. And that’s where the story goes. I was watching a talk show broad whose job it is to talk. And talk. I always wonder what you do when you are just not in the mood, but you have way too much airtime to fill. Yes, and…. I didn’t quite understand her explanation because she was boring the crap out of me, but yes, and….is her go to phrase. On both sides of the conversation. Yes, and….I see where she was going with it. Yes. Show stopper. Yes, and…… I was thinking of that for the last few weeks during my insomnia moments (longgggg moments) because I have replayed my nocturnal tapes enough that they are used up and not doing the trick anymore. We all have them. Where we let our mind wander to get back to sleep. However, I have finally used mine up. Borrrrring. Old magazines. Yes, and….. I need the next installment. Which is why I’m cranky and sleep deprived. Old tapes. I have given up all hope of a better past. Guess I need to get some more material in my file lest I become one of those crotchety Boomlennials I’ve heard are out there. Yes, and….I don’t want to be one. Yes, and….I will update my three in the morning playlist with cool things to think about. Yes, and….don’t complain, don’t explain (like the Queen). The Other Queen. I was hearing music from my printer yesterday. Must have been the paper jammin. Yes, and….

I am one of those people I make fun of. Not that I would actually make fun of people. That would be wrong. Very wrong. A few Thanksgivings ago, my peeps started working on a Disney Princess puzzle that had been laying on a table for awhile. Gave us something to do so we wouldn’t have to talk to each other (just kidddding) (sorta of), and it was Princesses. Who doesn’t love a beautiful Disney Princess in their colorful Disney apparel? I just want to lick all things Disney right now. I digress. Imagine that. Anywayyyyy, it was fun!! Big and little got to participate, and a new hobby/obsession started for me and Manfriend. We Love Puzzles! We have become ’those people’. Once when shopping for a new puzzle, this man started talking about his wife only liking two-thousand piece ones, and we started slowly scooting away from him and looking for security. Weirdo. Another time (see where I’m going with this??), while checking out with a puzzle (500 piece only), the cashier started telling us about her card table set up in front of the TV, and that she would only do thousand piece puzzles. How do we keep running into allll these odd people? Never have I ever thought I’d be discussing puzzles, but I am. Manfriend and I do them together, and talk A Lot about them. Size does matter. And thickness. And color. And now I need a cigarette. At least we try to do it in private, and not tell everyone what we like. We experiment, but always head back to the basics. Do what the missionaries did. You know, beautiful sunsets, beach scenes, snowy carriage rides. Nothing exciting. Like those Disney Princesses. Rated R.

I have reached that time of the summer where nothing is exactly wrong, but nothing feels quite right either. Maybe it’s because the world is flourishing around me and I’m not quite keeping up. The flowers and trees are all at their peak off lushness before they start to get a bit backendish. Even my hair is looking rather good, thank you humidity. Since the roots have their own camo this time of year, I stay away from the hairdresser and rely on au natural a bit more. Do love that sun. Always good for the skin, too, you know. But….I am just not flourishing like the rest of my environment. It’s a bit like the post holiday blahs. There’s a lot of anticipation of all the exciting things that will happen, but most of them have become Ponderosa maintenance issues. Been the season of bassakwards. For example, my Villagers planted all the front yard flowers in the back, and ditto. So I have these huge vines all over my front hard, and tiny little things sighing in front of the trellises out back. I am well aware of the labor shortage this year, but that’s a good one. My pool is pondish, but very good fishing. I’m just crankbait. I’ve laughed through much of it, but the funny bone is getting weak. Not really! My doc keeps telling me my bones are going to turn to sawdust, but he’s wrong! The tests keep proving I could take him out in a fight, so he needs to pick on someone his own size. Don’t mess with a languishing pussy willow. #girlsjustwanttohavefunun