Update on weight loss

As of today, I’ve dropped 20.2 pounds.

Nothing to sneeze at, for sure.

I feel better.

I move easier.

I look slimmer.

All thanks to Optavia and my Coach Cat.

It was a rough few weeks when my son was deployed to protect the state capital.

I struggled to not drink.

I wasn’t always successful but I noticed something interesting.

When I drank, I didn’t sleep as well as when I refrained from drinking.

And I had cotton mouth all night long.

Yuck!

Who wants a rough night’s sleep with cotton mouth?!

Not I.

So I’ve found it easier to turn down alcohol now, even when I’m stressed.

I’ve learned my lesson.

I still miss beer.

And the occasional carb.

But overall, I’m quite pleased with the direction the scale is moving in.

Here’s to the next 20 pounds!

Throwback Thursday

One of my favorite beauty bloggers, Milabu, gave birth to a baby boy in June.

She’s been chronicling her pregnancy in addition to the beauty products she tests out and I was anxious to hear how everything went.

Thankfully, besides an unplanned c-section, all is great.

I haven’t really been captured by pregnancy stories until Milabu came along.

Mostly because that chapter of my life is done and over with.

I will not be having any more children, contrary to some family predictions.

It’s just me, my 21-year old son and my 19-year old daughter.

But watching Milabu recount her birth story took me back.

Oh, did it take me back to when I was a young mother.

There’s such a steep learning curve.

Changing diapers.

Figuring out what cry means what.

Doctors visits.

Nursing (enough said).

So much goes into becoming a new mom and every thing you learn you’re learning while being severely sleep deprived.

You can imagine some internet trolls have come out of the woodwork, to criticize Milabu’s mothering.

I say to hell with all the haters.

Raising another human being is the toughest job out there and every mom out there deserves credit for taking on the huge task of bringing another life into the world.

Way to go, Milabu!

Cut Throat   

You wouldn’t know it to look at me but I am a cut throat when it comes to unfriending people who post disinformation to their Facebook pages.

I don’t need someone to put up political garbage which is false and misleading without doing even the tiniest bit of research themself.

I spotted what was clearly an inflammatory picture of a bruised woman and a statement claiming that she was beaten, kidnapped, robbed, and had her unborn child threatened by George Floyd.

I instantly suspected it was disinformation and a simple google search did in fact confirm it as such.

I removed this person from my friends list.

I just don’t have time to waste reading that kind of garbage in my Facebook stream.

I don’t want to cultivate friendships with people who harbor racism in their hearts.

I don’t need to maintain relationships with anyone who can’t complete a simple google search before passing on disinformation.

Nope.

Not gonna do it.

What happened to George Floyd was a tragedy and false attempts to malign him or try to justify what happened will not be tolerated.

I’m happy to report that I didn’t even need to post a response to this person’s Facebook post.

People were posting all over with links proving that his post was disinformation and completely incorrect on many levels.

The world is learning.

Perhaps slower than we’d like, but we’re learning.

Stepping out

As the world slowly reopens, so does my social life.

I actually stepped out a few days ago and enjoyed coffee with my friend George.

I was so excited to hug him, I nearly burst.

It was as awesome as I imagined it would be.

We sat outside Starbucks and chatted mostly about piercings and tattoos until he had to take off for a date.

Then yesterday I met another friend at Starbucks and what was supposed to be a 2 hour coffee date turned into an al fresco dinner at Oak & Rye.

Also, VERY GOOD HUGS!

I find myself jonesing for hugs now ALL THE TIME.

All in all, I’ve had a pretty good time emerging out into the world again.

My dear old truck with 246,000 miles on it needed a new battery so I took care of that today just as my kid’s sedan and my mom’s mini van broke down and had to be taken to the same auto shop.

I keep forgetting to bring a mask and I’m stymied as to why because it’s one of those things ingrained in me to do at Burning Man.

No matter where you’re going or what you’re doing, you always have a mask close at hand JUST IN CASE there’s a dust storm.

I’m just not used to planning that far ahead in real life.

It was enough of an accomplishment that I remembered to shower, do my hair and makeup and put on rea clothes (not just another pair of pajamas) to go out in.

Didn’t I look cute?

Happy re-emerging to all of you.

Can’t wait to get a pedicure!

Show my world to you

I’m craving Ethiopian food today.

Not just because there’s an awesome Ethiopian restaurant by me.

Also because I want to support black-owned businesses.

I want to put my money where it can do good and promote diversity.

I’ve donated to the ACLU.

And BLM.

I’m sure there’s many other worthy non-profits I could donate to.

But going to eat Ethiopian takes care of two birds with one stone:  I get tasty food AND I support a business owned by an African-American family.

I ate Ethiopian not long ago with my friend Austin who has since passed away.

I’ll never forget it took us 45 minutes to order our food because we were so busy talking.

And I was so busy staring into his eyes.

God, was he gorgeous.

Such a tragedy his life ended by suicide.

I’ll never go to that restaurant ever again without thinking of him and remembering how ALIVE I felt when I was with him.

Or listen to the Dave Matthew’s Band play “Crash Into Me” without getting teary-eyed.

I’ll show my world to you. . .

Blast from the past

Today I did something I don’t often do.

I looked up the guy I lost my virginity to on LinkedIn.

The reason why?

He’s not on Facebook.

And I was curious.

If I was expecting some big surprise or shock, I got none of it.

He lives in the Sacramento area and he’s an electrician.

I recognized him from his photo.

Older, though.

Same hair.

Same nose.

Just your average middle aged man.

Nothing to signify that someone ever gave him a gift as precious as virginity.

Of course, I don’t think he even knew.

But there you have it.

A blast from the past.

 

Sweden vs Norway

I get a lot of questions about learning Swedish.

Mostly people want to know WHY SWEDISH?

Why would a woman of Norwegian descent opt to learn Swedish instead of Norwegian?

That is an excellent question.

The answer is pretty simple:

Because Rosetta Stone doesn’t offer a class in learning Norwegian but THEY SURE DO IN SWEDISH.

And so, I’m learning Swedish.

Close enough for government work, as they say.

I did however take a moment to consider joining the Daughters of Norway.

Ultimately, I decided that now isn’t the right time.

I’m working on embracing diversity and equality more in my life and the DoN represent a pretty slim selection of what is out there.

Though don’t get me wrong, I do appreciate that they’re an organization of women maintaining their heritage and culture in a country which doesn’t necessarily embrace diversity.

So here are some little knows facts about Norway:

  1. The cheese slicer was invented in Norway, though cheese is often bought pre-sliced (something I remember from my trip to Sweden).
  2. The longest tunnel is in Norway.  It is 15 miles long and cost $113 million to build.
  3. Unlike most Nobel Prize awards, the Nobel Peace Prize is awarded in Norway, not Sweden.
  4. Some Norwegians live in Hell.  Literally.  It’s the name of a city in Norway with about a thousand inhabitants.
  5. In Norway, the last time a police officer shot and killed somebody was in 2006. [LINK]

If that isn’t enough to make you love Norway, then I’m at a loss.

 

 

Hugs needed

I’m missing my Burning Man community something fierce.

I’ve managed to keep in touch with some people, like Nadine and Tejas, but overall I’m missing the camaraderie of the larger burner community.

There used to be get togethers every week, it felt like.

Now, we’re all sheltering in place in our own personal spaces, missing one another.

I for one can’t wait until the Shelter in Place order is lifted and small group gatherings are permitted.

More than anything, I DREAM about having a weekend campout, perhaps at a certain nudist resort in the Santa Cruz Mountains, with my friends.

I have costumes to test out, after all.

And I have free hugs to give (and receive).

Plus, there’s naked swimming and naked pool volleyball to be had.

I can just picture myself lounging in the hot tub, tasty beverage in hand, laughing with friends.

I suppose this is all just a way to say I miss everyone I used to see regularly at Burner events and I can’t wait to share hugs and affection with them when we do gather together again.

It’s hard to believe we won’t be at Burning Man together in 11 weeks.

Normally, I’d be in the throes of preparation for my trip but instead I’m just reorganizing supplies and dreaming of TTITD.

Hugs needed.

I’m lonely.

Riding Crop

Part of my efforts to reduce, reuse and recycle have included not just going through all my camping gear and supplies but also my wardrobe.

I have a ten foot closet with clothes just SPILLING out of it.

So a little selective weeding of the wardrobe was necessary.

I enlisted the help of my mother, which always assists me in making cut throat decisions when it comes to what stays and WHAT GETS TOSSED.

Haven’t worn it in 6 months?

Toss it!

Does it have a little hole that needs mending?

Round file it!

This process, of applying my mother to my wardrobe, always has some unintended consequences.

Like the time she folded my “Orgasm Donor” t-shirt.

Or the time she picked up my “Spank Me / Fuck Me” panties and just ROLLED HER EYES FOR DAYS.

This time around the process was uneventful, or so I thought.

Because as we were at the second hand store bringing in bags of used clothing to donate, I noticed my mom carrying in one of my bags. . .

. . . with my riding crop sticking RIGHT OUT THE TOP!

I’m here to tell you this:  You haven’t LIVED until you’re at the secondhand store watching your 75-year old mother carry in a bag with your “riding crop” sticking out of it.

Everyone’s a critic

Censorship is one of my least favorite aspects of owning a blog.

I put up a post, I try my best to be honest and capture my feelings.

And it never fails to occasionally piss someone off.

You might notice that a few posts have disappeared lately.

That’s because SOMEONE objected to them and threw a little snit fit so I obligingly took the offending posts down.

You’d think in this day and age, that censorship would be a thing of the past.

But you’d be wrong.

The irony is that I write about what I love – my family and friends, costumes, gifts, quilting, camping, festivals, Burning Man. . .

Sometimes my desire to be completely honest conflicts with other people’s desires to remain anonymous.

And since I love everyone I write about, I decided it was okay to self-censor and take down the posts.

But just so you know, it hasn’t been an easy week for me and I’m sure many people can say the same.

Rough times out there in the real world of the good old USA.