Comfort and Limitations

It’s dark when the alarm goes off and my husband hits the snooze button to squeeze a few more precious minutes of sleep from his restless night.  I lay there not quite wanting to open my eyes and tentatively move my sore limbs, regretting my decision to tear down a fence in the back only a little, thinking, not bad for an old chick, as I become familiar with each ache.

The sound of the shower motivates me to swing my feet to the chilly floor and shuffle downstairs to turn on the kettle for tea.  One English Breakfast tea bag goes into the stainless travel mug for my husband and I fill the coffee pot to the six line for myself, dumping two mounded scoops of coffee into the basket before remembering to actually turn it on.

The cat is looking at me from her perch on the arm chair and I’m wondering why she isn’t yeowling at me like she normally does at this point in my morning routine, hurrying me along so that she can have a fresh bowl of food.  I glance at the dog’s dish to make sure my son has fed her before heading down to tend to the cat, proceding with caution on the stairs because I know she’ll come barreling down them right as I’m ready to take another step and I don’t want to be a feature story on the 5PM news.  But she doesn’t today, and I look back to see her staring at me, seemingly as uninspired in this routine as I am.  I tap the spoon on the rim of the cat food can and peer around the corner to see her headed down the stairs.  She stretches each hind leg, then looks up at me and yeowls, as if to say, it’s about time.

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Reluctant Empathy and Old Ideas

I’ll go to my corner now that I’ve had my little tantrum after writing something that was more catalyst than conviction.

Later in the day when I was on my way to collect the resident teen from his spot at the curb after school, I heard the man I’d been watching earlier on television ask for privacy for the executives who’d received bonuses.  If the company was subpoenaed for the list of names, then it could be public information and the man expressed concern, reading from notes they’d already received from hate mongers about what should be done to the executives and their families if given the opportunity.

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In My Next Life

I’m thinking that in my next life, I’ll be some big important-type executive who can whore around to the pimping board members of a large corporation.  You know the type I’m speaking of.  Those who hire people like me for unrealistic amounts of money so they can have bragging rights to the newest and best top paid Hot Dog.

After I’m in charge of making sure every single bad decision that could possibly be made is actually made, then I can count on a massive bonus for absolutely nothing but seat time.  Even though the company has no money, I can legally expect my bonus or sue the company for twice what they owe me.

It won’t matter that other companies who struggle and finally go under lay off their employees, or ask them to take unpaid days off.  Or ask them to give up the retirement fund they gave to during their 25 or 30-year career.  Hell no.

None of that will matter because I will only be expected to sit in front of one of those inane congressional committees and forced to listen to each of them for a timed one or two minute period, followed by a hand-smacking for my dastardly deeds.

In fact, I can even play the martyr.

If I commit to giving back half of my mega bonus it will appear as if I’m remorseful, and attention will be averted back to the new President and his administration, because in the end, this will all be their fault.

Sure, I may have to decide to wait another year before buying that new Maserati.  And the spouse may have to forego  that solid gold toothbrush but, we can handle it.  Little Sheldon and Blade may have to wait until the masses purchase the latest model of the iPhone, but they’ll survive.

Besides, the American public is fickle.  They’ll be off on another tangent as soon as Limbaugh or Fox throws them another dog bone.

Fetch!

My Particular Brand of Menopause.

I’m a bit under the weather today with what seems to be a fairly nasty head cold compounded by a lack of sleep caused by the cold.  It’s a two-fold cold:  that of being sick, and that which is caused by our window which has to be open lest one of us sweat to death in the night.  Being under said weather puts me in a less than joyful mood and left to consider all the more pleasant aspects of my life — like menopause.

Just seeing the word on the page can cause a number of reactions depending on one’s particular set of circumstances:

  1. You’re female and under 30 so menopause can’t possibly have anything to do with you.  In fact, the concept of one grey hair or chin whisker may have recently sent you to near hysteria;
  2. You’re male, and anything having to do with the female body that isn’t about cleavage, thighs, or hot sex may as well be written in a language unknown to man.  That would be a male, and not mankind in general;
  3. You’re a menopausal woman and because you’re on a first name basis with menopause, reading about it most likely isn’t the first item of the day with your usual Venti Soy Decaf Latte, thank you very much; or
  4. You’re married to a menopausal woman and unlike awaiting the bouncing bundle of joy which is the result of a healthy pregnancy, you suspect absolutely nothing that cute could possibly come of this.

From time to time, I Google menopause just to see what comes up and it’s dismal.  I suppose this behavior makes me Glutton for Punishment’s poster child, but it seems to be part of my two-year and counting adjustment to aging.  Most of the initial hits are for sites selling or promoting HRT drugs.  The others are large medical sites like the Mayo Clinic and WebMD and although basic information can be found on all of these sites, they essentially say the same thing:  hot flashes are normal; we’re at greater risk for joint pain and osteoporosis; our skin will become more dry and less elastic; our midsections will increase in size; our muscles begin to disappear, our hair will thin in some places and grow in others less desirable; we will have difficulty with our teeth and gums; and most importantly — we will be at far greater risk for heart disease.

The good news is that regular exercise, improved diet, and reduced stress can lessen the effects of all of the above.  By all means, let the happy dancing begin.

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