March 26, 2018
9:45 p.m.

I remember enjoying Facebook so much back in the day (pre-election year 2016).

I can't give up on it entirely. I have rekindled old friendships, discovered relatives I didn't know I had and gotten to share in the day-to-day lives of my children and grandchildren when I'm not living close enough to have regular visits.

But, oh my goodness, some of the nastiness that goes on!

That goes for Twitter, too, actually.

People are a trip. For the past year and a half, I have discovered how much of a trip they can be. It is one thing to disagree about something; it's quite another to devolve into name-calling, accusatory bullying tactics to attempt to shove an opinion down someone's throat.

My question of the day is this: were people always this shitty and I just didn't know because I wasn't in the position to interact with so many of them before? Or did people become this shitty because they were presented with the opportunity to interact with so many others, and often anonymously?

By the way, pardon my language. Sometimes it seems best to use the word that fits the scenario.

You know, what I find the most disturbing is how many people I'm seeing actively searching for the opportunity to make scathing and disparaging remarks and taking obvious pleasure in stirring others into arguments.

Is it entertaining to stir the pot? Is it joyful to pit one person against another and then sit back and watch the show?

Apparently, it is.

I don't know why I'm surprised. The Romans used to put Christians into arenas with lions and watch as they were torn to shreds and devoured.

In other words, this is nothing new. There's just a bigger audience.

Sometimes I think the word "humanity" can't possible mean what we think it means.
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3-27-2018
12:07 a.m.

I hate packing.

I'm about to head back to Wyoming for a while, and now I have to pack.

I can hear you now: just pack the same things you brought home with you.

Well, I would. But I was driven here, and now I will be flying. It changes the whole packing dynamic when you fly. What goes to the luggage compartment? What goes in the carry-on? Can I trust these people with my C-Pap machine, or should that be my carry-on? How much of a problem are my medications going to be, and should those be in the carry-on? Will they allow them in the carry-on?

I fly, okay. It's not like these are terribly difficult questions. The thing is, I left my bigger bag in Wyoming. You know, the one that has room for the C-Pap machine to be packed inside with my clothing, all cushioned and safe.

The original plan was a drive back. But a $45. plane ticket vs $150. or more for gas, oil and wear and tear on a vehicle? No contest.

So now I have to re-think the packing plan. Yuck. And when it's all said and done it will have been so simple that this whole rant will be moot.

Ha ha.

Anyway, the point is, I am going to be back in Wyoming for awhile. I get to see my parents and siblings and spend some time at home. Yay!
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It's snowing outside as Tuesday gets started, and I just want to know, who needs this happy crappy?

I guess March must have come in like a lamb; I still don't remember and I am too lazy to go back through notes and blogs and weather reports to find out. I don't know, it's supposed to warm back up the rest of the week, so March could still go out like a lamb.

"In like a lion, out like a lamb, in like a lamb, out like a lion." Does that ever really happen?
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It occurs to me now that I have clothes and stuff all over my bed.

(Did I mention I hate packing?)

I may want to use my bed sometime soon.

Hmm.

I guess I should go pick up the mess I left on my bed.

At least they're all clean and folded...
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I shall return to think thoughts and rant and rave soon enough.

Fair warning.

Good night!

March 20, 2018
11:00 p.m.


"An ill wind that blows nobody good."

This is old, old, and indicates something happening that benefits no one. But in the last couple of weeks that "ill wind" seems weirdly literal. Twice this month I have awakened to wind gusts rattling my house, blowing open the doors, chilling my aching bones. Then came messages of death--my nephew, my childhood friend.

I hope March doesn't go out like a lion.

I'm despondent.

There seems to be a force at work, a force determined to remind me that time waits for no one.

Why put off get togethers? Why delay making the phone calls, writing the letters? Why drive by the houses without stopping in just to say hello?

We think we have time. We can do it later. It will wait.

Well, guess what?

It won't wait.

There is no later.

We do not have time.

So stop and say hello. You don't have to stay long; just let them know you were thinking of them and wanted to check in.

Make the phone call and write that letter. Do it while you have a chance.

Get together as often as possible, and if it isn't possible, go out of your way to make it possible.

Don't wait.

Say all the things you'll regret not saying if time runs out. Say them now. Say them often.

Don't wait.

Missing the chance--that's the true ill wind that does nobody good.

I love you all. You're important to me. I appreciate you. I'm happy you're part of my world.

Good night.

March 19, 2018
9:05 p.m.

Well, damn. Fix one thing, and another thing goes to hell. We need to get into another place. Somehow.

It sucks to not be rich, man.

The roof has sprung a couple of new leaks, and they are not little. I am sad.

Why are you falling apart, old house?

Sigh.

This was not the post I planned on earlier today. But, crap sure does happen. Right?
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10:54 p.m.

Now I am of a mind to use some seriously strong language and possibly kick my feet and scream. It won't do me any good, but I might make me feel a little better.

I skipped the hot chocolate last night after considering it, but it's happening tonight. Chocolate is a MUST HAVE at this point. I don't have any candy, so... gotta get your chocolate wherever you can!
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I know it's kinda dumb, but my aging house makes me feel like a failure and a rotten Mom.  It makes me question every single decision I have made since leaving High School. It makes me feel envious of women who have partners to help them out with stuff like this.

And feeling this way makes me feel seriously bad about myself, because it's not very nice.

I want to be a nice person.

Fiddlesticks.

I know at this point in the "thinks" process I should be counting my blessing--and yes, I know I have many--but I am functioning on a bare minimum of sleep this week, so all I really want to do is just feel sorry for myself right now, and guilty that my kids are living in a hunk-a-junk house.

I'll count my blessing tomorrow. I swear.
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Blah, blah, blah.

Sorry.
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Apparently, tonight is not the night to talk about class reunions and stuff. At this point I cannot even pretend I ever succeeded at anything.

I know, I know. I'm wallowing, okay? I'll get over it.

Um...the hot chocolate is good.
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I'm going to go read something trashy and get back to this tomorrow.

Good night.

March 18, 2018
8:42 p.m.

Meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing and corn. Followed by chocolate chip cookies.

Wait, what? I cooked? Is it snowing?

Oh! So it is!

Yeah, hardly any snow all winter. Hit mid-March, and: ka-plowy! Huge flakes. Wind. Cold.

Did March come in like a lamb? Um...wow. I don't remember.

I need more than three hours of sleep in four days in order to improve my memory.

Memory.

Memory is a crazy thing, isn't it? There are things in my past I remember as clearly as if they happened just yesterday. And then, there's last week, which I don't remember that much of at all.

So, what's the deal? Was 40 years ago that much more memorable? More interesting? I suppose that's possible.

I think sometimes we reach a point when the ol' brain just goes, "Meh. Been there, done that. Discard. Delete."  Like, so many things are just lather, rinse, repeat, and not worth storing in the old memory banks.

It's really frustrating, though, when there's a niblet of info worth saving in the vast ennui of day to day slog. Not the "don't forget to schedule your dentist appointment" variety, the "I told you about the baby shower three days ago!" stuff.

No one really wants to go to the dentist. Baby showers are nice, though.

What sucks is that my memory--hopefully not everyone's, though--seems determined to store all the bad stuff. You know what I mean, the stuff you go over in your head, thinking "if only I had left when I wanted to, if only I hadn't bought that *insert stupid purchase*, and I should have said this, that and the other thing instead of *insert stupid statement* or not answering at all."

Why does my brain insist on bringing up a 30-year-old argument with my ex? We haven't spoken more than three times since 1991, for God's sweet sake. That ship not only sailed, it sank.

Where was my brain during the bad decision making, and why does it now remind me that I made bad decisions? Like, "Did that REALLY seem like a good idea at the time?"

Apparently, yeah. In retrospect, not so much. But, 40 years have passed, so give it a rest already!

I was the kid sitting at the edge of wherever the grownups were gathered, listening with rapt interest as they told stories of their shared memories. Now I sit on the edge of conversations amongst my siblings and cousins as they recount their own memories of our childhoods and wonder why I don't remember any of that stuff. Then I realize that I wasn't with them, making memories; I was listening to others' memories.

Do I regret it? Yes and no. The memories of my parents, aunts and uncles will be lost to time soon enough, except that I have listened and stored some of them. In a way, those have become my memories, too. But I probably would have gotten a laugh or two hanging out with the kids, and so I'm sorry I didn't do more of that. Now I just have to get them all to tell me their stories.

So am I just a second-hand memory sort of person? Nah, I have more than plenty of my own. I just find the stories of others so very interesting.

Now I listen to my kids talk about their childhood memories, and very often my response is, "You did WHAT?"

Yeah, that's interesting, too. But they are lucky they're in their thirties now, or I'd have to kick their butts--several times.

Those sort of memories are probably the kind you make when you DON'T hang out with the grown ups. Or when you don't lock yourself away in a cubby hole to read and write.

Even so, I'm sure a few of my memory stories could earn me a butt-kicking from my parents. Ha ha.

I watch my grandchildren grow, and see how they spend so much time on their electronics, and there are times I just want to toss them all in the bin so they'll look up and start making their own memories. I don't want them to be listening to chatter amongst themselves in later years and wondering where they were when all this good stuff was going on, and then realizing they were right there, with their eyes glued to a stinking cell phone.

Progress kinda stinks, huh?

I have a rather ambiguous relationship with cell phones. Over the years it has become a lot less expensive than when they first came out. I'm happy with unlimited call and text opposed to paying for minutes. As phone calling goes, it's certainly more economical to make a long distance call these days.

BUT--

Do you remember the days when our most important phone numbers were in our own heads?

(Memories!)

Today I know two phone numbers without having to look them up. That's because those numbers haven't changed in decades.

I have four kids, and I have their numbers written in a book and stored in my phone. Lose either, and I am up the creek.

Shameful.

Can I really not memorize a phone number anymore? What's wrong with this picture?

Of course, I do make memories with the phone all the time, because it has a great camera. That counts, right?

Do you suppose technology is killing our brain cells?

Do you think perhaps it is time for me to remember that three hours of sleep in four days is probably not conducive to coherent thought processes?

All this memory crap started because I can clearly remember a photo that I cannot find. I've been through all the scanned items on my computer, and through the actual photos. Obviously, the photo was lost in the house fire.

It hurts, damn it. I can see that little boy's face, grinning up at me. I want to hold that photo in my hands, and see that face for real.

I wanted to send it to his mother...

She's not going to see his living face again. None of us are.

Oh, God.

You know what I think? I think it's time for me to stop for the night!

Yeah, it's time.

Good night.

March 16, 2018
11:14 p.m.

I like people as individuals. But as a species, humans kind of suck.

Seriously, why is it such a hard thing, being decent to one another? Is it that difficult to just follow the golden rule.

"Do unto others what you would have them do unto you."

"If you would not like it done to you, do not do it to your neighbor."

However you say it, it means you should treat a person they way you want to be treated yourself. Do you want to be bullied? Do you want to be beaten? Do you want to be discriminated against? Do you want to be hungry, naked and cold? If the answer is No, no, no, no--then don't take actions against others that lead to these situations.

It is so simple.

Why can't we get a handle on it, humans?
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Okay, I probably don't need to explain this rant; suffice to say that I spend less time online and more time watching re-runs the last few weeks. I will totally choose "Monk" over Twitter. Of course, Monk has his own issues with humans, and I can relate to those issues.

I can't relate to Monk's fear of milk, however. What's up with that?

I still do the social media because there are a lot of people I really consider friends, and I like keeping up with them.

I use social media to promote my work, and the work of other writers and artists. There's almost no way to meet the people you meet online in any other way.

(Well, that sounded creepy. Or stalker-y.)

I'm just saying, it opens doors to valuable relationships. I'm very grateful for the interactions with other medical coders, other writers and other artists. Exchanging information and ideas is priceless.

If not for social media, I might not have learned of my nephew's for days, and that was something that needed a rapid response. I would never want my family to think that I didn't care about them.

If not for social media, there are so many family members I would not have connected with. I have found family I didn't even know existed, and that has been invaluable for my genealogy research.

Clearly, I can't give it up entirely, but I have reduced my travels into the world of random crazy rants, racial slurs, fat-shaming, bullying and name-calling.

Wait. That's the news, isn't it? Or Capitol Hill?

Damn it!

I think for a while I'll just stream "How I Met Your Mother" or "Monk". And I think a new season of "Santa Clarita Diet" begins soon. Silliness will keep me sane.

Or what passes for sane in me.

In the meantime, I guess I need to learn to ignore the hateful people. They really are not the majority--I hope. They're just louder.

And dumber.

And meaner.

Plus they shoot children...

And they try to put guns in the classrooms...

And they try to punish children for the mistakes of their parents...

And they--

Where's the remote control? I have to turn me off, now.
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Ha ha. Don't know how I missed this show back in the day. "How I Met Your Mother" just reminded me of the fiasco of a New Year's Eve that led me to a lifetime of staying home where it is quiet, sane and safe. Comparatively speaking.

Look, no one tell me ANYTHING about his show, okay? I know these are re-runs, but no spoilers, please!!

My granddaughter made us start watching, and now we can't stop.

She's pretty proud of herself. Ha ha.
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March 17, 2018
1:01 a.m.

I have to get my writing mojo back on track. I have like three things going on, and I keep getting distracted by things like--you know--life. But I must practice some self discipline.

Not now, though. It's one in the morning.

Ha ha.

I'm going to watch t.v. with my granddaughter now.

Good night.

March 12, 2018
11:18 p.m.

It started with seeing a Facebook post. The young wife declared that she would love him forever and didn't know how she would live without him.

No, I thought. They just had a little tiff, that's all. He's fine.

Then came the first of many condolences.

Uh...

Denial. Stage one.

Besides, SHE didn't actually say he was...you know...dead.

People offer condolences over marital spats and stuff. Right?

And it would blow over, because--heck! Match made in heaven!

Lots of questions. What happened? Was everything okay?

And WHAT HAPPENED????

So...okay, clearly something has happened. I don't know what, but he's not here anymore, and someone says he passed and someone else says an accident, and this is someone I sang to when he was a baby, and I want to know what has gone wrong!

No one answers the question, and night has fallen hours ago, and I'm just going to have to wait.

That was Saturday.

Yesterday, his page and his wife's page are full of condolences, thoughts and prayers and no real answers about what happened.

Just the day before he had posted pictures of a trip he was on. It looked like he was having a good time.

Now there were lots of pictures of him with his baby boy and his wife taken over the last few months and comments about how he was going to be missed.

In the midst of all this, we have a birthday party to attend for my youngest grandchild, now a two-year-old, and since no answers are forthcoming, we try to have a good time for the sake of the kids.

But of course, that nagging question remains: what happened? Did anything REALLY happen? Was it all a mistake? (Please, God!)

By the time we got home last evening, I knew I was going to have to reach out to family members and ask the dreaded question, even though no one else had posted anything on their pages.

Dang.

It was true.

My nephew was killed on Saturday. He was struck by a car after leaving the bus he was traveling in.

This is all I know, even now. My son wants to know how, by whom, where he was, all the details, and I probably will want to know these things, too, at some point, but right now all that matters is that this young man is gone.

He leaves behind a wife and baby boy. His mother, my sister-in-law, is devastated, and going through her own hell of denial right now. No one can believe that such a thing has happened.

There will be more information shared soon, I've no doubt, and I fervently wish I was able to jump in a plane and go to Mexico to be with the family. That is not likely, but I will there in spirit. I already am. I can't get him off my mind, and all I can see is this memory of a photo I once took of a little boy in a maroon sweater, grinning up at me.

I can't find the photo. I don't know if it even still exists; it may have been one of the many casualties of a long-ago house fire. But I see it in my mind, so clearly that I have more than half convinced myself that it's here in my house somewhere and I need to find it and get it to his mother.

I'm feeling a bit wrecked.

Oh, dear me, how his mother must be feeling!

There will follow a proper tribute, but I can't wrap my head around this just yet. My heart aches for his family, for his wife and baby, for my children and all his other cousins, and especially for his parents, who should never have to live to see their child be...discontinued.

I'm sad.

I lay awake all last night trying to compose the proper thing to say to my sister-in-law--in Spanish. I have enough trouble choking out words of condolence in my native language, because it is certainly not something I ever want to have to do, and today I needed to do it in Spanish, because I love this family and I want them to know that I care.

Saying you're sorry in any language is brutal. Not saying it; having circumstances dictate the need to say it--brutal.

Dear woman, mother of a lost son, I am so sorry. I love you. I'm thinking of you. I'm thinking of all the family and friends, and wishing him Godspeed. May he fly high.
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And that's all I have to say about that, at least for tonight.

Where could that photo be? I know she'd like to have it...

Bye.

March 4, 2018
2:53 p.m.

Seriously, I cannot be the only person who looks in the mirror and says, "Gravity sucks!!" So how is it that women are not clamoring for space travel to be be part of their beauty regime?

Think of it: a few hours in zero gravity every week would relax that pull on our skin that leads to sagging boobs and booties. jowls and upper arms. It would be a great way to combat the real culprit of aging. It's not the passage of time, it's passing that time in a constant state of downward dragging.

If I lived in outer space, I would look great!

By the way, if this becomes a thing, I better get all the credit. Perhaps I should file for a patent immediately. Zero gravity beauty treatments by Paula Shablo.

Yeah, surely someone has already suggested this...right?

I gotta Google this....

Well, that would be beyond lucrative... if it were remotely possible without literally going to live in outer space.

Why can't I come up with do-able ideas?
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10:25 p.m.

Thank you for having us, Louisiana!! 

We recently returned from a little vacation to Louisiana. I have to say it was a good time. Louisiana is home to some nice, friendly people. The food was great. The weather was cooperative--warm and not terribly humid. Of course, to a desert gal like me, even that amount of humidity is heavy on the lungs--but on the bright side, great on the old skin! I'm glad we went in February, though. I don't know that I could really breathe well if it was hotter and more humid.

Trip day one was pretty straightforward. I-70 through Kansas and then south to Oklahoma City. We took highway routes going south rather than dealing with the Interstate, and it was quiet and pleasant.

We arrived in Oklahoma and spent the night with my daughter and her kids.

Day two was a bit more...er...interesting. Dallas, Texas. Man, the traffic. Lunch hour, I reckon. Yikes. All those bridges.

Naturally, someone tried to drive under a truck instead of waiting to drive under a bridge. The result wasn't too pretty.

Needless to say, I wasn't unhappy to leave that much humanity in the rear-view. Denver is little. Who woulda thunk it?

Now, you cross into Louisiana, and what do you see? Green grass everywhere! It's amazing. February and lush with green.

Pretty, huh?

We arrived at our destination after sundown--of course. The area is lovely, but I think they missed the memo regarding road widths out in the rural areas. Narrow. Horse and buggy narrow. Ha ha! As long as no one is coming from the opposite direction, you're okay, but it's a breath-holding situation when someone passes you.

Or course, my daughter-in-law managed to give me a fright when we were all alone on the road. Good job.

During our stay, I was welcomed into the home of my daughter-in-law's mother. She made me very welcome and we had a good time.

Trip day three was the planned craw fish boil to celebrate the marriage last year that no one was able to make the trip for.

This was my first experience with swimming bugs, but I was determined to be a brave old lady and give them a try.

So this is scary, right?

They look like some sort of 

water bug. 

 Before and after. 

I admit it, I was a LOT nervous. Of course, I was
nervous when I tried lobster, too. Or basically anything that isn't chicken or beef or pork. Because they look--ew!

But I was brave and gave it a try. Not too shabby. A bit chewy, I thought, but nothing bad about it.
So now I have eaten craw fish.

There's a check off the old bucket list!

I'd like to post people pictures, but I will wait until I ask for permission. These wonderful folks are all very nice, but I don't know them well, so I don't want to step on toes.

However, I will post this shot of a Louisiana parking lot. Ha ha!

The rest of the week we visited a bit, hung out, watched movies and played games and ate too much good food.

I think I am finally catching up on the DC movies.

I also think I will always be more of a Marvel girl.

Watching Grease was a GREAT time. Thanks, ladies!!
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I spent the evening editing pictures so I could write this blog, and now I feel to lazy to write about the return trip, so now you have to wait until next time.

Sorry!

For now, I will wish you a good night!