#ThursdayDoors — Kitty’s Shed

These doors are brought to you by Moo, who knows good doors when she sees them. She spotted these in Kitty’s snowy yard and sent them to me so that well all may enjoy them.

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Thank you, Moo.

#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link and find the frog.

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JOT

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Jot Jinx

I’m not sayin I jinxed it, but I was home sick today. Then I was at the doctor’s office sick. Then I was at the pharmacy sick before being home sick again. I feel much better. Mostly I’m relieved and grateful the anxiety of it is over. Modern medicine is amazing. People suffer and die from ailments that can be treated effectively in … 6.5 hours. It’s been 6.5 hours since I took that first pill and that’s amazing.

I had fever dreams today.

I was out riding my old ten-speed when I came across Ronald Reagan sitting in my grandfather’s Oldsmobile and he needed me to drive him home, so I did and then I just sorta took the car? There were only 44,000 miles on it and it was white, so I think it was a reasonable theft for dream world. I took pictures of the old fashioned buttons and levers for this blog, too, but there’s no way to share them here.

That’s the jot.

.jus19

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Everything’s Coming Up Roses. On Tuesday?

It’s not. It’s not coming up roses. It’s January. It’s coming up slushy, messy, dirty, icy, slidy — but it seems I am part penguin? I simply slide on through.

I am experiencing an unusually pleasant series of circumstances wherein things are about ten times better than I expect. A few weeks now.

Me: There are too many things going on.
Life: I’ve canceled the things!

Me: This will not reflect well upon me.
Life: You’re amazing!

Me: This ain’t gonna be good.
Life: This will be excellent!

Me: Erm, this feels like a crisis.
Life: Nah, Girl, you ready.

Me: This is gonna cost a bloody fortune.
Life: Nope, not even close!

Me: I smell shit nearing the fan.
Life: Only the freshest air for you!

I never know what brings these things on. At my best I’m human sunshine, but I’m not at my best all the time, cause human. Anxiety disorder is real and fear gnaws at me. Still, I try to roll with it and I aim keep my mindset positive.

I am superstitious enough to think that writing about it might jinx it, but then I’m hopeful enough to think even if that’s the case, it’s worth sharing.
Good things happen all the time.

The other shoe won’t drop. The other shoe is fiiine.
Right?
Right!

Jot!

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JusJoJan Echo

Still Jotting

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Echo, hm? The Mister was part of Echo Company. I forget all the things. It was so long. So long that any time I told people the things, they’d tell me that was too many things, and I’d say what I’d been taught to say, which I no longer remember, because one of the great joys of my life is not having to recite and write that stuff everywhere I go.

“Baby, what was the thing?”
*narrows eyes*
“Echo Company thing.”
“Echo Company 3rd BSB FSC 3/69 AR BN”

Yep.

He had different jobs based on location, stateside and … holy hell, I forget the words, isn’t that fantastic? Not stateside, the other.

“Baby, what’re the words for not stateside?”
“In country.”

Yeah, that. It not make sense.

The last few years he was HR, somethin about S-1. If you’d ask me what he did then, I’da told you he delicately managed the raving delusional madness of his narcissistic boss and babysat grown men using only the Uniform Code of Military Justice and a cell phone.

So anyway, that’s what Echo means to me. Shit I don’t have to recite anymore.

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Too Cold for Kitties

On Friday, there was talk about a “snowstorm.” In case you hadn’t noticed, we all must be afeart of weather now.

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Jot

Weather is relative. If you tell me we’re going to have a snowstorm here in Indy, I think this means we’re gonna have feet of snow, not inches. I think thundersnow. I’ll think about shoveling the cars out. I’ll expect the wind to blow hard enough to loosen siding from the garage, maybe some snow squalls. I’ll think about potential power outages, branches down, dangerous driving conditions, people snowed-in.

As is the norm now, in preparation of the alleged snowstorm, everyone went out and bought too much bread and milk, salt melt choices had been picked over, events were canceled, and people spoke of closing smaller businesses Saturday.

Because, and I quote, “5-8 inches of snow and MAYBE EVEN MORE!”
What?!? That’s like, normal, expected.

The snowstorm was 14 hours late and for those 14 hours, we had rain. Not freezing rain, just rain. Temps hovered around 34 and it rained. It almost melted all the snow we had.

The Mister took Sassy to the gym. Moo went to her boyfriend’s. We spent the day at a gentle pace, enjoying the quiet. I made some grilled cheese, read some Jeeves.

My photo prompt was ‘fence’ and I thought I’d get that photo once the snow had made it prettier. The sun went down, the snow came. I took Sadie out, took a photo of the fence.

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It was cold. It was noticeably colder. Temps had fallen to the teens and the wind blew biting. It wasn’t too bad for backyard travel, but I wouldn’t wanna drive in it.

I worried about Moo’s safety in the drive home. I reasoned that Mrs. Boyfriend’s Mother drives a sturdy vehicle and that between our house and theirs, it’s flat straight, busy road.

The Mister left to collect Sassy from the gym (about 10 minutes away) and about 40 long minutes later he sent me this:

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Oh did he laugh and laugh. Bastard.

I thought when we got up today, maybe there’d be more snow. Not so muches.

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Umm, we got more snow last weekend, without all the hype.
Also, while I went out to get that picture for y’all, someone snuck out for a first taste. I was not the only one barefoot in the snow, I just came back in the house a lot quicker than he did.

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#cletusthedogkitten

In conclusion, not a snowstorm, but too cold for kitties.

 

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SoCS — Television You Can Sleep To

For years, and perhaps forever, my favorite television shows are Friends and Frasier. I am currently cycling through Frasier AGAIN. I do this several times a year.

They are my nigh-nigh shows.

When my husband left for … eight months that time, I had the damnedest time trying to sleep and a friend of mine told me to turn on the tv, set the volume real low and try not to fall asleep. It worked. It worked so well, that’s how I’ve slept the last … thirteen years. So, at night, I turn on whatever I’m watching, watch til my eyelids get heavy and then I usually get up, pee, turn it off, stick my earplugs in, and sleep. Some nights my eyelids don’t get heavy early enough and some nights, I never get back up. Fortunately the latter happens more often than the former.

I know it’s bad feng shui to have a tv in my bedroom. I know they say it’ll destroy our sex life. I know the light tv emits is a no-no for sleep. I know. I.don’t.care. Maybe my feng shui demands rectangular plastic to combat too much water in that room. Maybe we have to rewind after sex. Maybe every moment of sleep I get is a miracle. Maybe THEEEEY dunno my life.

The best sleep comes where for four nights straight, I have to start back on the same episode.

Reading before bed will keep me up half the night. Books don’t belong in my bedroom. The trusted levity of sit-coms is where it’s at. Some dramedies will do, but the sit-com is ideal.

Honorable mentions: Arrested Development, 30Rock, The Office, That 70s Show, How I Met Your Mother, Wings, Will & Grace, and of course, Cheers. Those are my best shows. I know them all, I can watch them with my eyes closed, although, I admit, they’re better with my eyes open.

Jot with SoCS

 

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Go Where Now?


No. No more go today. Do not take your mama out. Your mama has picked you up and taken you out all week. Take yer mama home. Let her put her jammies on. Fetch her a nice tea. Let her catch up on her Instagram and peruse her bloggity-blogs. She wants to play Scrabble and music.

I think the only way I’d get up offa this sofa to party is if MY mama showed up.

Jot

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Happy Friday Everyone!

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#ThursdayDoors — Jot 17

I liked this day. I woke before my alarm, I have a sassy new do, work was weird, strange, bizarre, and ultimately VERY INTERESTING, Office Assistant brought in the best snacks ever, my dog jumped on my lap and licked me all about the face til I giggled, and I had dinner (kind of) alone with my husband.

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JOT

Our monies attended an event wherein we all went to the local Culver’s and ate foods. You may remember I also attended one where we were forced to choke down ice cream on a sunny day? Those are the worst fundraisers, aren’t they? No cooking, no cleaning, free refills. Root Beer!

Culver’s may not be something you have where you live, so I will do my best to help you understand the love. FROZEN CUSTARD. We Midwesterners eat our frozen dairy treats all through winter. We don’t care if it’s -40, yes we would like custard. When people around here talk about custard, they mean FROZEN custard. It’s a regional thing. Culver’s serves custard, mmhm, but also every freakin thing a corn-fed Midwesterner could want. Butter burgers. Burgers fried in butter. Yes. Crinkly fries. Onion rings. Cheese curds. Pot roast sammiches. Tenderloins. (Those would be Hoosier tenderloins.) Fried chicken on a mayonnaise-slathered bun. It’s all very very good.

Tonight, I had the fish. Really I had cole slaw, some fries, and the insides of fish — Sadie got most of it. Sadie wishes she could go to Culver’s to help clean the kitchen floor.

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They’re not paying me anything, I’m just tellin you, is nom. I didn’t get any custard, because honestly, I have a pint of their custard in my freezer and that means I can have it any time I want. That last party pack came with a complimentary cooler one can take back and use to get more party packs. It’s like they know we’ll be back. Again and again.
(I guess you could go there and order soup and salad, but I dunno why you would do that when you could get a party pack… but I bet the soup and salad are yummy, too.)

The Mister and I sat alone in a booth while the teens sat with their teen friends. I tried to get a picture for my prompt of the day was “corner” asking us what was around the corner, but Moo wouldn’t cooperate, put her hoodie on her head, totally not willing to be shared on Instagram. Some other kids were into it, so I took a picture of not-my-kids instead.

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Aww! Thanks, Kids.

Anyway, then I stopped and took pictures of the doors, cause, well, life is busy, but it IS Thursday!

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Doors, meh. Thursday, yay!

#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link and find the frog.

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January 16, 1987

That day you got a new best friend, and on your way to the bowling alley, had to sit on her brother’s lap — and you never knew you’d end up marrying him. That kid with the bony knees and a shock of thick blond hair. You’ve seen that kid in your own kids. Wild.

This is 1988 — this is 30 years ago.

 

For my friend these last thirty-two years. So grateful we fooled around and fell in love.

TEN.YEARS.LATER.

Okay, but then, as he always points out, I was in denial about all the love until year ELEVEN.

Jotted.

 

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Tuesday of Overwhelming Jotness

I don’t like to stop.
That’s a thing.
I love to start knowing I can finish. Stopping and coming back is hard, especially when I can’t finish that time, either.

However, my schedule dictates that I must stop a lot and come back a lot and it’s very disturbing to me and I simply do not know how to talk myself into how it’s a good thing, because we hates it.

I told y’all this before, but I’m telling you again so you’ll know how serious this is for me. If you have mastered the mindset of long-term projects that stop and start and start and not on your own terms, you must tell me any secrets to your success.

If it makes you crazy, too, you can tell me. This is a safe-ish space.

Because this is me, doing anything, and being interrupted by anything, losing my shit. Right now I’m in a place of only hot irons. I honestly find myself highly adaptable and fluid, but for the love of puppies, can I just get one, single, solitary freakin thing done?

*stops to eat her goat cheese pizza*

JOT
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