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The Bang Bang Theories

Every Little Thing. Is Gonna Be Alright.

We’re going to try something a lil bit different here, Reader, because while I have a hundred bajillion things to tell you, it doesn’t seem to make it here to you with any sort of frequency. So I’m playing one of the Games of The Internets, wherein we answer a buncha questions and hence get a story of sorts told.

I need a guide, apparently, and I like this format.

I have so so so many really important adult-type things I need to be working on, for instance doing some stuff for my JOB, except I watched some videos on stuff to get learned up and now I need a mental break. This is where you benefit, Reader.  You’re welcome.

So let’s get to it and talk about some Gratitude Things. I am trying so hard to hold on to the gratitude moments, because there are many, but it’s so easy to get all caught up in the anxiety of Getting Everything Done. All the more reason to go on our guided chat.

What We’re Eating This Week…  I tend to go on cooking sprees when I’m stressed or overwhelmed. It’s a way for me to make something delightful out of a bunch of different things, and I get a little caught up in it, despite usually having a giant mess to clean up after. This week I made Lemon Chicken for the first time ever, and I added baby portabellas to it and it was really yummy. I didn’t like it much the first night that I made it, I thought it was too sour, but after the flavors settled, it was really good the next day.  I also made lemon squares for dessert – they say your body craves what it needs so maybe I needed some sour, which is odd because frankly I think I’ve been sour enough lately.  Ask My Mister, he’ll tell you.

In other What I’ve Had In My Mouth Lately news, I dug up an old cake recipe that used to be my very favorite chocolate cake in the whole wild world (yes, wild, my fingers typed that instead of wide and it felt right so I left it).  I’ve made this cake twice in the span of two weeks and it was equally fantastic both times. Well, the second time was a little better, as I made a better frosting. It’s Depression cake, an old recipe that requires no eggs, butter or milk. We called it Crazy Cake growing up. Mmmmm…now I want another slice, but it’s all gone.

What I’m Reminiscing About… Cooking was such a part of my growing up years, as my mama always had something on the stove. I think that’s why I lean toward cooking during times of high stress, because it brings me closer to her and also my grandmother, and it brings me comfort.  I saw this post on Facebook and it’s where I’d like to go this week, back, back to the barefoot girl with stubbed toes and carefree days and my mama on the front porch yelling that supper’s ready. 

Mother’s Day is always wrapped in angst for me, I didn’t get enough adult years to celebrate with my mom. Maybe I need to just be a little easier on myself this week, and forgive myself for not getting so many things on the to do list done, and instead say hooray for what I did accomplish (not much, Reader, unless eating a gallon of ice cream is counted as an accomplishment).

What I’m Loving… This week I’m loving my sun-kissed face, because I brought back a little bit of color from my trip to Florida. I had one luxurious day in the pool and was careful to not get burnt, but did get a little bit of a glow. I love it because I can see that tinge of color and be reminded how just a couple of days ago I was listening to ocean waves, floating on my back looking up at the cloudless sky, laughing and talking with new friends and making s’mores.  Friday was a really good day.

I needed this reminder to hold on to the gratitude, because even though things are in flux and a little chaotic and also weighing on my mind and robbing me of sleep, all signs point to it’s all going to be okay.

Since this seems like it can fill a page really easily, we’ll end it here for now and pick it back up maybe tomorrow. In the meantime, what about you, Reader? What are you loving, cooking, dreading, working on, excited about? Let’s share.

Tiny Grass

For all my fans friends on Facebook, you may be wondering why I’m living the high life of travel at the moment, first in Memphis last week and now in Florida this week.

Sometimes it’s hard being me.

Sometimes it’s anxiety-ridden-and-scary-and-keeps-me-awake-at-night-how-am-I-going-to-figure-this-out-oh-my-gad-it’s-four-am-and-i-still-haven’t-slept Hard being me.

It’s been that kinda hard for the past month or two or three, but who’s counting.

I worry about my future. My family. My life. It’s hard being 52 and skilled and looking for work and trying to remain positive and keep turning over all the possible stones, even those that seem to be covered in shit, but you turn them over anyway, trying to see if maybe the shit is just covering up the shiny parts.

I was working in that shit-covered-no-shiny-parts stone environment from November thru January and I just fucking refuse to do something that mentally fucked again. The Guy Who Ran It was mentally fucked, and the coworkers were backstabbers and I don’t normally talk about it because no good comes from negativity except FUCK THEM, so there. I had to get that off my fingers at some point.

Let’s just sum it up by saying it was a bad experience.

And it’s made me extra cautious.

But I need money.

Why is it so tough to make that happy balance?

Well, the Universe must have been hard at work moving things into my way, because two decent sounding opportunities popped up; however, they are both out of state.

My Mister told me, “Maybe Cleveland has given you all it has to give.”

But change decisions are hard.  You grow a life somewhere, and to think of uprooting that life is scary and teary.

After interviewing at both places, I felt like I’d come where I’m supposed to be in Florida. The Universe has been hearing my yearning for life on a beach.  She just had to first strip me of many things I need in Ohio before I’d be willing to consider leaving to make a new life. She stripped me of money, and good job possibilities have just seemed to dry up. Bad job possibilities are non-existent for me, too. I started a little business that I’m in love with, but maybe that’s just a “not right now” kinda thing, or maybe it’s something I’m supposed to have started and then turn over to someone else while I go and figure out this new thing.

I don’t know.

But I do know I’m not going to let fear and anxiety stop me from trying something new.  So I’m putting one toe in the sand, and have said yes to the dress, and am going to try out the Florida Life and see how it fits.

So far just being here makes me happy in my soul, which is a term coined by my girl Steph, who also did a big scary move and kept leaping for what she wanted and found a fairytale.

She’s my inspiration.

I don’t know why the Universe has put so many old friends back in my path this past year. It seems rather rude to have reconnected only to lose them again, and so quickly.  Old school friends, old work friends. They’ve made this decision bittersweet. But as I’ve always said, as the wind blows, things change. Right now it’s blowing ocean breezes my way.

I have to just trust that it will work out the way it’s supposed to work out. I can do hard things. As serendipity would have it, I was having breakfast at a little beachside cafe yesterday and a woman about my age breezed in and sat down with a guy and started talking about how scared she is to be alone, leaving all her friends behind, starting over again with no one down here by her side.  At one point I leaned over and said, “Excuse me, I think we’re having similar lives right now,” and we got to chitchatting. She currently lives in Ohio, about an hour from me. She’s a couple years older than I am. She got a job offer that’s in Florida, about 45 minutes from where I’ll be. She’s worried about the move, and being alone, and having no friends and will it work out or is this is a mistake.

We exchanged contact info.

Her name is Santa. Pronounced “Sahn-ta.”

But really, Universe? You sent me a gift named Santa as a beacon that it would all be okay.

At least that’s what I’m going to believe.

What about you, Reader?

Running on Average

You Guys.  A very flattering friend of mine told me, ‘You’re gorgeous.”

First, that is an egregious use of the word.

Second, it’s totally not true and we all know it.  All of us know it. So stop. I’m passable when I’m at my best.

Today I went to deliver a thing I sold for $10 and then popped into the store to pick up carrots and celery to make ham and potato soup, not because I necessarily wanted to make soup, but because I opened my freezer and the hambone I had shoved in there back at Christmastime crashed out and refused to be re-wedged back into a spot.  A hambone forced me to cook, which is really obnoxious of a damn hambone.

Today I also realized that no saying has ever been more true than, “The older I get, the more comfortable I am leaving the house looking like shit,” or however that saying goes.

I wore no undie-wears, no bra, no deodorant, dirty hair in a pony, and not one stitch of makeup. And I went into the store looking like that. Kinda probably how many guys just naturally walk into a store on every day.

Well, for me, it prompted a stern talking to with myself of, “So this is what it’s come down to now, Me??”

And then I answered myself, “Yep, this is how we’re now going shopping. At least I brushed my teeth.”

So now I’m walking around looking like a homeless lady and talking to myself, and we’ve officially entered a new phase of life.

But back to my flatterer.

My response to him was, “I took off my bra tonight and a Dorito fell out.”

You want to describe me accurately, Reader? Call me delicious. Because I occasionally have surprise treats stashed in my bosom.

Update: Here’s a photo of my Bossy Soup.  You know you want some. Come get it.

 

Under Construction

Hi Reader, Hey!

It’s been a while.

Again.

For a girl who’s not working, I’m sure awfully bizzzzzy.  And I look around Chez Bang Bang and just don’t see where I’ve made any progress.

I have applied for every possible job in the area, and nothing is panning out yet.  It’s time-consuming to apply for jobs, by the way.  And it’s not like in the olden days where you actually heard back from places you applied to.

One place I went to on Thursday, I was interviewed by a kid who just turned 21. I know that, because he told me he still hadn’t taken his first officially-legal drink yet. And then he told me about the awesome growth potential with the company, because, “Look at me, I started a year ago, and now here I am behind the desk, interviewing you!”

I don’t know exactly what was meant by that.

But then it got better.  He told me, “We hire young, cool people to work here. Tell me why we should hire you.”

The job itself sounded like a dream.

It involved going around to the houses of people who call to complain about their gas bills, and getting them back into a fixed rate vs. a variable rate or some shit along those lines.

I inquired about what sorts of neighborhoods we canvass to accomplish this auspicious task, which frankly sounds like a job that could be more safely handled over the phonelines, but hey, what do I know compared to the young, cool kids.

Nothing, that’s what I know.

This morning I received a text message from a temp agency I applied to, they are looking for help to clean an office building Monday and Tuesday.

I’m totally on board with that and replied Yes, Sure, I can do that!

But then I started wondering what sort of office cleaning we’d be doing.

My concern deepened when they said in another text, “Be sure to wear work boots.”

Reader.  I don’t have work boots. I have bad knees and a 52 year old back. I’m neither young nor cool enough to work on gas bill complaints (as was evidenced by my not getting a call back), much less do the jobs that require work boots.

The “office cleaning” job was actually cleaning up a demo site, they are pulling out the ceilings and ripping up the floors of some space and need people to haul that crap to dumpsters.

While I would appreciate the very low amount of money I’d be making, I also appreciate what’s left of my knees and the bendiness of my back. So I politely declined.

 

Although I’d probably look pretty cute in a hard hat, sometimes you have to say no, even if you can’t really afford it.

Know your limits.

Mine is right around the “wear work boots” line.

I’m more aligned with “wear comfy sneakers” tasks.

Let’s face facts, Reader. I can barely carry stuff upstairs to my office, and need one free hand to hold the railing while doing so.

There is no way I’m a work-boots-demo-clean-up Trixie Bang Bang kinda girl. She was thirty years ago. She remodeled two houses and hauled construction trash and once even fell down the steps doing so, but was able to bounce back up and keep on truckin’.

This version of Trixie? Would be in traction.

Where, o’ where are all the “cuddle kittens in your pajamas” jobs?

Or the cake sampling jobs?

Comeon, Workforce. Work with me.

 

All Choked Up

This afternoon I was giving one of my three cats, Nosey Dots, a vigorous scratching on his very robust tummy.

He was throughly enjoying it and was wriggling all around, kicking up some tufts of fur.

Since I’m an exceptional multi-tasker, I happened to be on the phone at the time during this vigorous tummy scratching and right in mid-talk, a giant tuft wafted up and got sucked right into my cakehole.

And lodged in my throat.

My phone caller contemplated calling 9-1-1, as the crazy old cat lady on the line (me) was obviously being choked to death by her clowder.

After I regrouped enough to put my call on mute and continue coughing til I broke five ribs, that hair tuft was still lodged.

I’m not sure it’s ever came out, as I sit here I can still feel something bothering me in my froat.

So today? Marks the day I had a cat hairball in my very own throat. And that secures another nail in the coffin of my crazy cat ladyhood.

The Bitches Whatevered.

 

It’s been a week of highs and lows, Reader. I mean, relative to my particular thang that’s happening, which isn’t all that high or all that low. It’s been a week of mids.

I am still looking for a job that won’t suck, and it is getting tougher rather than easier. I had two good prospects, and I got the Nope Not You one last week (low) and then a job offer on Friday for the other (high), however the salary was so. damn. low. it was a low-high. I mean, comeon. I have a giant bag of tricks I bring to a job. I’m not totally sucky at stuff.  I can think, and mostly spell.

So I thought about that low-balling me offer and countered with literally a buck and half/two bucks more.  And they said, “No. And there is nothing else we can add to the deal. You won’t get your third week of vacation for 10 years. And you don’t get to participate in the 401k until after a year or so here (she wasn’t really sure). And there’s really no room for growth, so you’re going to basically die in your low-paying position.You’re not going to be happy here, this is the most we can do, so we’re going to move on to other candidates. ”

I may have paraphrased that part about so basically you’re going to die in this crummy job. But that’s all that may be hyperbole. The rest? Was actually said.

I was stunned to say the least. I mean, on Saturday I went out and squandered $21 on a new pillow like I was some sort of a Rockefeller, because my neck has been stiff and I thought, “hey! I’m going to be bringing in a sad-but-not-as-bad-as-unemployment paycheck!” and went glad-happy spending on a new pillow.

It seemed to have worked, my neck wasn’t stiff Sunday or Monday morning. But now I am second guessing that willy-nilly spending.

But yeah. The Bitches totally Whatevered on me today.

I may or may not have had a mild nervous breakdown with a few tears being shed. Once I was off the phone, Reader. I do have some dignity, and I would never let the whatevering bitches think they got me.  I was gracious on the phone and said what a pleasure it was to meet with everyone, thanks, blah-de-blah-blah, but then I was all flipping them off and crying for a hot second.

But yeah.  I’m so trying to be like tiny grass, and bend with the wind. I’m so. so. trying.  But somedays I just feel mowed over.

Now I’m pep-talking myself, and applying for new and better jobs and trying to think like a badass, and oh, by the way, I’m starting a new business so WHATEVER, BITCHES, it’s going to be AWESOME and that’s not an April Fool’s joke, but the truth, and I’m going to work the fuck out of that all day tomorrow and make my own damn luck.

Because some things are just not meant for me.

 

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80’s, Baby

Hi Reader, Good Morning!! Yes, it actually IS morning when I’m typing those words. I’ve turned over a new leaf. Well, actually I’ve been turning over A LOT of leaves this past week.

It’s been my “nice day in Cle” mission to get a jump on my yard work, doing it in stages because there’s just. so. much.  I have a “city” yard, which doesn’t sound like much and normally isn’t, except I have a double lot and a bazillion trees. Someone said, “Oh, look at all this green space you have here!” and it’s more like BROWN space because of all the dead leaves piled up everywhere.

The leaves, like the mail, they just keep coming. We did Fall Cleanup. And then more leaves would fall. And we’d Fall Cleanup again.  And more leaves would fall. I guess that’s why the season is named Fall. I think I just got that, lol.

At some point in the Fall – around November, when the snows started – I decided to just leave what was left, as it’s better for the wildlife anyway or so I read and it seemed like a good enough reason to me to stop with the endless raking. And lemme just say, I did have hordes of birds feasting in my yard back in Jan/Feb so there’s something to be said for just leaving it be.

But now that Spring is coming, and since I have the luxury of time, I want the yard to be ready before I start working again. No, I don’t have a job yet, and in fact I just got my “Nope, Not You” rejection from the city of Cleveland, which I actually thought I had a strong shot of getting until the 2nd interview when the guy just didn’t like me from the get-go. There was no charming him. Which is somewhat impossible to comprehend, because I’m quite a delight.  Ahem.

So the story goes.  I’m still unemployed, but trying to get ahead of Life this year, and was outside yesterday as the sun was a-shining and the leaves needed a-raking out from my landscaping that stretches all across the front of the house.

At one point I worked up a little sweat, so I took off my sleeveless puffy jacket thing that I was wearing to keep me warm, yet nimble for raking.

I wear this sometimes because it makes me feel like I’m twinning with Debra Winger in An Officer and a Gentleman. She wore that sleeveless jacket like a boss, and therefore so do I, without giving any effs if it’s stylish or not. It caught her an Officer and a Gentleman.

Except her jacket wasn’t as puffy.

Or green.

Regardless, I keep waiting for Zack Mayo-NAISE to come and swoop me up and make sweet, sweet love to me.  So far I’m still waiting.

Anyway, I was talking about blowing leaves….

Since I was working up a sweat, I took off my puffy vest and hung it up on my lamp post.

And then I got back to blowing and raking.

I was absorbed in my work.

And then something caught my peripheral vision.

I jumped with a start, and a ‘Fuck!” on my lips.

Someone was behind me!!

Creeping up close on me!!! 

And I thought, “Well, here it is!  All Jabs’ talk about my getting my b-hole raped in my own house because I don’t have strong enough curtains on my windows was coming true, except it was going to happen right outside in the light of day, in my very own front yard!”

I whirled around with a, “Oh, no, you won’t!” attitude and my fists raised in defense. I did not have my $10 b-hole-saver whistle on me because who needs that in her very own front yard??

I faced my potential accoster.

And discovered it was my very own puffy jacket that had turned into the enemy.

Once I beat the hell out of that jacket, I decided maybe I’d done enough for one day.

Later, as I was recounting the scary puffy vest drama to My Mister, I gave him a pop quiz:

Trixie BB: “Guess which movie character I’m channeling when I’m wearing my puffy vest?”

My Mister, without missing a beat:  “Marty McFly.”

Hard to argue, Reader. And we can totally tell which 80’s movies held the most influence over us.

It’s probably safe to assume I have a better chance of getting a hoverboard than I do getting Richard Gere.

“B” as in “Bigtoe”

So after my big proclamation yesterday, how did it go today, you’re probably wondering. I mean, there’s probably no “probably” about it — I’d bet dollars to donuts* you’ve been wondering about what I got bizzy planting today. Because I’m of course the top thing on every single person’s mind. Obvi.

*yummmmm….donuts!

Well, anyway. The day started out like any other Monday in my world.

Except! It was super-sunny and bright and pretty outside and that motivated me to spring up and just get busy with the day at eleven a.m.

Over a cuppa coffee, I jotted down my To-Day List, pulling things forward from my lengthy and intimidating To Do List, which for the record is 2 pages and there’s not nearly enough “fun” on it. Even after my big deal about putting fun on it. I mean, there IS some, it’s just still a lot more task-heavy. Baby steps, Reader.

But on my To-DAY list, I was sure to add in the things I wanted to do alongside the things I needed to do.

The sunny was shiny and so I took a neighborhood walky. No one is ever happier than my decision to go for a walk than the cats.

It was this pretty today in real life. No filter.

I did some yard work after the walk, because I’m working on intermittent raking. The yard at Chez Bang Bang is wide and long and leaf-heavy and blister-making when I save it all up to do in a day or two. So I’m working on it in stages. A little patch every week, and by the end of April I’ll be ready for summer. Probably sooner, because I was so full of spark today I did a section I was going to break out over three days. I just got on a roll.  And also was hoping I was early enough that the snakes are still in hiding and won’t be scaring me from under a pile of leaves.

Adding extra outdoorsy time through raking?  It was Gussy’s Perfect Day.

While waiting for one of my marketplace sales to show up at the nearby CVS parking lot later this afternoon, I jotted down my “Gratitude List” for the day. I just don’t know if I like the ABC format for my list of gratitude. It’s a lot of things to think of and it’s tough to get through 26 things. I hop-skipped around a little bit and didn’t complete it all, but I did enough to feel happy about it.

Fun Fact:  Every single time I have to think of anything that begins with the letter E, I always, every single time think, “Elvis!” Not just in my gratitude list, but also if I’m spelling out a word for someone. I can mostly fake in into sounding like I’m a smarty pants using the NATO phonetic alphabet; I can Whisky, Tango, Foxtrot with the best of ’em. But every. single. time.  I get to E, and instead of Echo, my brain and mouth automatically go right to Elvis, which frankly it SHOULD be Elvis, as he’s an internationally known name that the whole entire world can spell and knows it start with an “E” whereas “echo” may be confusing to other languages. And here is my thesis on reasons why to change the “E” in the phonetic alphabet. And also that is one long comma-heavy sentence. I win in that, too. So there.

In Fun Fact 2 regarding the phonetic alphabet*, one time a long long time ago, I was scheduling an appointment for someone and the guy on the phone had a heavy accent and was spelling something for me and I thought he said, “B as in Bigtoe.”  He had actually said “V as in Victor.”  But ever since then? B as in Bigtoe. It just makes sense.

Lastly, I never knew I had so many thoughts on the phonetic alphabet. Hm. Maybe this is something I need to look into rewriting because my ideas are actually borderline crazy brilliant and I feel very strongly about it.

But back to life at hand today.

My Mister is off having Man Week for the next 10 days so I’m mostly solo with my dinner plans. Which would be fine if I wasn’t poor and could just go dine around town myself. Less fun concocting something at home. I almost shortchanged myself with cereal (which is good enough, don’t get me wrong – but not tonight), but instead I decided I was worthy of a butter garlic shrimp and pasta dinner.

I made up a recipe and just went for it – it’s tough to go wrong with butter, garlic, lemon and mozzarella – and let me just say, it was yummy. Sometimes when I wing it, it can turn out no bueno, but this time? Winner.

So I made my mouth happy today.

How about you, Reader? What part of your body did you make happy today? Er… nevermind.

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Three Months

When I was going through my divorce, I did a lot of planting. It still stands out to me, because I frankly hate gardening and the digging and worms and spiders and bugs.  That’s not to say I don’t like worms and spiders and bugs – as long as they stay in their habitat and don’t invade mine. When I’m digging around in the dirt, they are perfectly within their rights to scare the bejeezus out of me, as I’m invading their home. So I generally tend to avoid that activity.

But I can remember getting out my gardening gloves that November weekend when my marriage exploded and I got busy digging and planting.

I didn’t have the words to know WHY I was doing it, only that I felt the need to put something in the ground that would bloom in 8 months time, breaking free from it’s dark place with all it’s beauty and splendor, and reaching towards brighter skies.

It would be a tangible, visual reminder that both me and those bulbs made it through to sunnier days.

It took me longer than those 8 months to re-find my more natural sunnier skies mindset, but I got there eventually.

Like most people, we all have highs and lows.  Life brings us challenges, many we don’t want to accept, but have no choice in the matter.

Many of us have things we are going through that we just don’t talk about. Including me, Reader, which you may find difficult to believe as I write these words and send them off to your eyes and anyone else’s who may be snooping around the internets looking for nonsense.  I’m an open-ish book.  But there are things that we just handle under our own roofs, and those can be the things that try to sink us. Sometimes it’s just piled too high.

I think that’s where I’ve been lately. The pile has been too high. It makes me sleep more and create less. It makes me edgy and yell-ie and chicken-little-the-sky-is-falling. I’ve felt badly about being me – overall as a human, not because of an individual action.

But I’ve been reading and practicing my friend Jabs’ A-B-C’s of gratitude and truly absorbing some of the positive messages that you can find anywhere online. I’ve been loving Mel Robbins on insta lately.  I mean, she said this:

And I’ve decided it’s time to start planting again.  Only this time, I’m going to plant creativity. It’s a lot more enjoyable and a lot less wormy.

I’m writing my to-do list to include CREATIVE tasks, and not just “polish kitchen cabinets with new magic stuff you just bought on Amazon” – which is also an actual thing on my to-do list that I’m going to do today at some point. But I’m going to rework my list, into To-Do and To-Day and it’s going to have a mix of less fun stuff (but truth? satisfying in a measurable way when something goes from effed up to organized/cleaned) and creativity.

I have a new website to build.

I have a vision board to create. The poster board had been riding around in the back of my car for two weeks now. It was never considered “important” when I had so much garage to clean.

I need to outline my little book idea I’ve been writing in my head for the past twenty years.

I want to paint an awful picture. I mean, I want to paint a GREAT picture, but talent does not equal desire in this case, so I’ll settle for what I can do. Maybe – just maybe – I’ll take a class this year.

I want to host a painting a “let’s paint the beach” event at Chez Bang Bang. I have the canvas. And paints. And friends. It’s going on the list for April or May or June. But it’s going on the In the Next 3 Months list.

I want to take some actual skillz classes – like social media marketing stuff. Because I like it, and want to formally understand it instead of my current method of winging it.  It’s going on my To Do list.

So what are you planting today, so that you believe in tomorrow?

It Looked Different on the Model

I used to think that old people in their forties and fifties and sixties had it all figured out. They knew how to do Life, because they’d lived so much of it already, that certainly they were the experts.

And then one day I woke up and I was one of those old people who was supposed to have all the answers, and had lived responsibly and owned a home and had a serious bank account and a super-clean-all-the-time house with matching things or things that were designed to match unmatchingly. Someone who knew what she was good at and had a thriving career and a balanced bank account and was leaving the world a better place.

I spent the morning applying for jobs. Jobs with words I hated, like “ability to perform hard work” and “jump to reach high-hanging fruit” and “high intensity and long hours.” And I didn’t want to apply to any of those jobs.

As I was stirring together my peanut butter layer for a batch of decadent brownies I was making, I just really started to question myself and what are my actual abilities and do I even have any any longer?

I don’t know, Reader. I don’t have any of Life’s Important Things together.

I don’t have a successful 30-year marriage to lean back on.

I don’t have a pack of children to be proud of.

Don’t even ask about my bank account, unless you’re asking me how much money I’d like you to put into it. Unemployment comes at a cost, Reader.

My three cats are cute, but mostly ill-behaved.

Hard to dispute the cute.

I don’t have any answers to life’s hard questions. All I do is what I can each day and hope for the best. And sometimes that doesn’t work out like I hope.  Many times, actually.

I don’t know what I’m good at any more.

I’m a mediocre cook who puts more effort into it than the return warrants.

I’m a mediocre blogger who writes sometimes. I have ideas that don’t always make it to the execution phase for one reason or another. And no, I don’t need you to guilt me about it, I already know.

What I’ve learned is that I muddle through on most days, hoping some things turn out okay. I just thought that by the time I was in my fifties, I’d have this shit figured out and I’d know where I was going in life and have one house paid for and would be vacationing in my second home six months a year.

I don’t.

I don’t have any of that.

The only thing I have on a regular basis is unprompted aches and pains.  Yesterday I was walking around just fine, doing some yard work, and then out of the blue, my foot just started aching so hard I could barely stand on it. I mean, to the point where I had to figure out just how badly I needed to go pee, and by the time it wasn’t optional, I had waited too long and I may or may not have peed my pajama pants a little.

That’s not having life by the horns, Reader. I mean, if that had actually happened.

I guess the point of this is that I just don’t know. And I feel like I’m alone in this, and that everyone else KNOWS how to do life very successfully and well, and am I ever going to figure it out?

I don’t know.

I find it somewhat frightening that some people look to me to help them get their own lives straightened out. I’m the brains that is supposed to help them fix their life because they think I have some magic answer. I don’t. I’m no example. I’m not. I am not a model of success. I struggle against the current that is trying to sweep me under almost every single day.

I guess I’ll try again in the morning.

And maybe that’s all that everyone is doing. Getting up and trying again, and sometimes it works out well and it looks like you’ve got it all together. At least for a minute.

 

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