O Posse, my Posse! I’m baaaack!!!
Jeebus Pete! But I could easily do without going through that again. Pinched Nerves are vicious.
So… let’s parse that title, shall we?
Love. Ha! Not as deeeelicious as it sounds. I am truly and thoroughly in love with….my PT Aide. She’s been working tirelessly to get that pinch to subside – and it looks like she’s been successful!
Not quite so in love with Dr Shoulder, M.D. – honestly, why don’t specialists LISTEN? But! since my only real goal was to find out if it was torn (it is) and get a script for PT (I did) I just shined it on. PTAide laughed at my frustration and said ‘ they’re all like that – but don’t worry – we’ll fix both the tear and the pinch’. Did I mention I love her? LUH her!
Lust. Okay. Maybe this one is a leeetle more deeelicious than the Love. Y’all remember The Very Inappropriate Man? Welp! Done. FINALLY! I’m sure ALL my friends (every last damb oneay’all, dagnabbit!) are thrilled. It’s been a slog, getting through that infatuation, because it really was ridiculous and I was probably more intrigued by the ‘wtf?’ery of it than him. I am over him because I met yet another Very Inappropriate Man at lunch on NYEve – but whereas VIM 1 was all about not stepping out of his comfort zone (and, honeys, lemmetellya – I am Mos’ Def out of his comfort zone, like Godzilla crashing Thanksgiving dinner and eating his mother’s dining room table)…VIM2 was allll about Stepping Out, even if only for that moment. And omg. Such beauty! However, it is unlikely I will ever see him again – and that’s FOINE (it was a chance meeting at the bar where friends and I awaited our table and I was just a tad poofled – just a tad – but enough to be even more ...vivacious.. than normal). But I realized, as he countered every apology from me with a ‘nope, you’re good’ which must be Bro for YES that Life is too unpredictable to stand for ‘nah, I’m good’, which is VIM1’s reply to everything and must be Bro for NO, I guess. I just wish the Universe had dropped a less gorgeous, young lesson in my lap – or, to be honest, dropped me in his. Oh, well. It’s probably a test, to see if I hopped in the Slutmobile, while hopped up on (omg. how could I have done this to my stomach & brain?) Andre! and Cranberry wine. I, who keep vintage KRUG in my cellar! Getting slightly tipsy on Andre! and Cranberry wine (on an empty stomach, no less). At least I didn’t puke in the gorgeous YOUNG man’s lap (39 is grown – but YOUNG! I’m okay with Cougar but that? That puts me in Saber-toothed tiger territory). I managed to pull myself together enough to kiss him (chastely, on the cheek), wish him Happy New Year and go off with my friends! But sooo beautiful. Sigh.
See? I told you I’d eventually spill the tea on VIM! 😉 In a nutshell, he’s cuteAF but timid. And I ain’t. ’nuff said.
But he’s still CuteAF! DagNABBIT!
But here’s the question: what the HELL! was I thinking, drinking Andre! and Cranberry wine? And how did my stomach not claw its way out of my body?
Pain: LOL! Remember that LOVE I have for PTAide? Well, it’s tempered by a healthy distrust of her band exercises. And also blushing at my own arrogance. Those cute little plastic ribbons they use for strengthening? Pffft! Nothing to it, right? HA! Those things are kickin’ mah…. shoulder! But I’m chugging through the ow!
I’ve also been cleared to go back to core work, which I had to avoid for nearly 3 weeks, which triggered a whole bout of dysmorphic anxiety… the past week on the mat has been helpful in getting me back to center (normal simply isn’t going to happen, so eh).(first DH gave me this, in case you’re wondering why I’m still mad for him)
So here’s another question: how do any of us get through the effing DAY? Between the physical and the emotional and the whole just trying to Live LIFE! How do we do it? Because,apparently, if it’s not one thing, it’s another.
And Life is Just a Bag of Tricks (as Felix the Cat is wont to say).
What I Wore: I was surprised to be focused on perfume the entire time I was busted – but I suspect it’s like getting dressed (makeup and all) – it’s my armor and I do not go anywhere without it – no fuzzy slippers in the Walmart for me. During the most painful days and sleepless nights I clung to my No5 – but GREAT lashings of it, from the soap to the vinty Body Oil to vintage perfume. You could smell me on the moon and ask me if I give a damb. When you have 90 minutes sleep under your belt people tend to give you a wiiiiide berth. Or… maybe it was the great lashings of No5. Whatever. Get the hell outta my way.
Jubilation 25 was my daytime go-to when things started to sort themselves but I still felt fragile (and with a touch of PTSD from the inexplicable pinch. I mean… it happened once, right…?_) . Soap, body creme and extrait. But I softened it with the teeniest scrab of Anthropologie Vanille. Really, really pretty and nobody got hurt. Win!
Omg. Lyric. And not just Lyric. Lyric ExTRAIT! Holy cats and crackers! That one I saved for my most miserable moments because it is beyond gorgeous but amazingly distracting. Those 90minute sleep nights morphed into horrible mornings, with me trying to shoehorn this outrageous situation into a normal day. Once I realized that 1. I didn’t have to and 2. I simply couldn’t I would take yet another hot shower (not hard to do at 11a when your first hot shower was at 2a), put on the body creme (I’m all about that creme, can you tell?), spritz ONE drop of extrait….fire up the hot water bottles and the heating pad and let Lyric knock me clean out!
Winner~ Queen Cupcake! Ha! Betcha you thought I would forget! Fuggedaboutit! I remembered (barely). Gmail your evilauntieanita and I’ll get you some goodies out.
And! I’m feeling so damb HAPPY!!! to not be in (such exquisite) pain anymore that I am going to have M. Jacques poke YET ANOTHER pawnail at random. Just tell me what you’ve been up to, what you’ve been wearing, whatever.