joeyfullystated

Hell is Behind St Lawrence Church

Posted on May 15, 2016 by joey

Last month I wrote about taking Moo’s friend Betsy home and how her neighborhood is all windy-dindy.
Robin asked me why I don’t know a shortcut to Betsy’s house. I started to explain, and ended up telling her that when she comes here, I’ll be happy to take her over and show her. Translation: I will be happy to drive aimlessly, with bewilderment, until we get back to a main street.

Now, I’ve decided to show you.
But before I do, let me tell you how it is, and how it has been.

Taking Betsy home is not the first time I’ve ventured into this neighborhood. Far from it. I’ve been in this neighborhood more times than I can count. Growing up, I had friends in this neighborhood, I dated a guy in this neighborhood. I have spent nights there, walked around in it, played basketball in its streets. I am still disoriented while I’m in it.
The streets are all curvy and the names change.
The map doesn’t reflect the name changes, but when I take Betsy home, her street is one name in and another name out. Betsy only knows the way home via her bus route, so when I leave, it’s easier to get out than it was to get in. However, when I try to enter the same way I left the last time, it doesn’t work. I end up driving around with my gut until suddenly the right house appears.

Obviously there is magic afoot.

Now my kids have a handful of friends who live in this neighborhood. I must drop people off and pick people up accordingly.

Today, I asked The Mister to pick the children up.

Here’s an imaginary version of our convo:

“Where is Moo?”
“666 Black Magic Lane.”
“How do I get there? Crossover and take a right on Lost Lane, then a left on what?”
“Just let Siri drag you all around Robin Hood’s Barn and across Hell’s Half Acre. I can’t tell you how to get there. I truly don’t know how I get there. I’m certain I’ve never gone the same way twice. It’s all curves and cul-de-sacs, the street names change.”
*pulls up map*
“See?”
“I got it.”
“No. Look.”
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry if I’m sensitive to this issue. No one seems to understand. You and your parents have not helped. It’s a fucked-up place over there. It’s not just me.”

I can still remember my mother on the phone with my boyfriend in 1989, “Hang a Louie on Leone.”

Off The Mister went.

When he returned, some time later, I didn’t have to ask him how it went. He said, “That was a nightmare! The phone was tellin me to turn and there wasn’t a turn yet! If I turned right, I’d end up in someone’s yard! I wasn’t at the fuckin street yet! And gettin out was even worse! I just kept turnin left. Felt like a NASCAR driver. Finally made it out to Kitley! Then I saw traffic was movin pretty swiftly, so I figured that was 46th.”

The funniest thing about this is that I have never come out on Kitley. Not once.
Of course, anxiety disorder isn’t a fan of left turns — I probably turn right, cause I’m not a NASCAR fan.

This map may be correct, but also IT LIES.
For a clearer view, Google it, street view it — Go ahead, make yourself sick!

Y’ever been disoriented in a windy-dindy neighborhood?

Posted in Random Musings | Tagged anxiety, anxiety disorder, The Mister, travel | 59 Comments

SoCS — Scrabble

Posted on May 14, 2016 by joey

If you played Scrabble with me, you’d know I’m aces with two-letter words. But you probably don’t play Scrabble with me. Gobs of my friends play Scrabble. With other people. I’ve been playing Scrabble with the same six people forever. Sometimes others invite me to games and then they stop playing and I take forfeit for the win.

Here are my stats:
Victories 56%
438 Wins, 329 Losses, 2 Draws
144 Bingos
Best Game Score 473
Best Word ‘CRAZIES’ for 112 points

I love Scrabble.
High scores and tricky placement thrill me.

I know, you already thought I was geeky enough and now you hadda read that.

I used to play with strangers, because you can pick ‘Random Opponent’ but one day a woman accused me of cheating because I made a good word too quickly, and I decided strangers are whiny losers.

A friend of a friend started a game with me and then told me I needed to take it easy on him because he doesn’t play as well as our friend. I told him I wouldn’t let him win and played a 66-point word. Then he used all caps to tell me I wasn’t playing fair. I resigned.

Sometimes I play in French. It’s hard for me to play in French, but I think it’s good for my brain, and good for my friend who so often plays me in English.

When I had Scrabble on my phone, I played the app itself. It always wins. But! I learned a lot of weird useful words like IXORA and JAUPS and TILAK.

Also, there are glitches.
This has happened to me TWICE.

My husband played Scrabble with me for awhile, and he cheats. I know this because I live with him and not only do I know his vocabulary limits but I’m his spellcheck at least three times a week. Recently I’ve taught him the difference between peak, peek, and pique, spelled courtesy for him, and discouraged him from ever using the word layed.

In the last year or so, my mother has begun playing Scrabble with me. She likes all the posts where I’ve lost. I mean, literally, she clicks Like on them. Sometimes she even takes the time to congratulate my friends for beating me.

SoCS is brought to you by LindaGHill — Start and end with two-letter words.

Posted in Personally | Tagged SOCS | 58 Comments

When We Talk Weather

Posted on May 13, 2016 by joey

I’ve begun to complain about the rain.

Yes, I, the pluviophile, have had enough of the rain.

Even more embarrassing, I generally make fun of, roll my eyes at, and Pfft at people who complain about the weather.
Grown-ass Northerners who ought to know better by now. Especially the ones who live along the Great Lakes.

Bitches be all, “Oh my God, it’s fucking snowing already!” and I be like, “Bitch, get a grip, you live in a state they call THE MITTEN, of course it’s fuckin snowin.”

I have never, and will never understand how anyone has lived here for decades and still goes on about the snow. It’s going to snow every single year. It’s a given. It’s just gonna.
Snow, ice, icicles, ice storm, squalls, sleet, thundersnow, snow, snow, snow. Hard-packin, flurries, a dusting of powder — whatever, it’s all frozen water. SNOW.
Complainin about the snow ain’t gonna make it stop.

(I love snow, too. Snow means it’s not too hot.)

When it doesn’t snow here, it rains.
This makes me sooo happy. Man, I love the rain. Just love it!

Look how green and glossy!

I love the sound of rain.

I open the windows when it rains.

I am a Bona Fide Petrichor Connoisseur. If you haven’t smelled the rain north of the Mason-Dixon and east of the Mississippi, you haven’t lived.

April showers bring May flowers.
This year, April showers brought May showers.
And more May showers.
And more May showers.
And more May showers.
Seriously, you’d think May would have more important things to do.

This rain is stunting my garden. It’s flooding my seeds. I can’t get a stretch of sunny days to till. It’s keepin me from weeding, while makin the weeds grow even faster. It’s makin my grass grow too fast.
My dog is wet every damn night. Don’t nobody wanna cuddle a wet dog.
It makes for crappy outdoor photos.

(Here’s a rainy train for you, Dan.)

Driving in the rain is playin Hell with my anxiety.

So we’re clear I’m not exaggerating, the local weatherman said this month, we’ve only had one day without measurable rain. We’ve gotten 16″ of rain so far this year, and that’s up almost 3″ from normal.
The good news is, I’ve mastered the wiper speeds on Bonnie Blue.

Spring is always wet here. This is excessive. I have stopped looking at the weather forecast. I can’t even with this rain.

The Mister and I commiserate about the rains. He complains there’ve been no hammock days.
He heard it’s supposed to be a long, hot summer. He said we’ve had mild summers since we got home. I agreed.
“Remember when I was cold at the Fourth of July parade?”
“Yup.”
“Remember that year we came home to visit in June and it was 105°?”
“No.”
“Well we did. Left Georgia to come here and it was even hotter! There was a drought, remember? Dad’s grass was pokey as hay.”
“Oh yeah.”
“And the girls didn’t even notice. Just accepted it, like they were still in Georgia and it was sposta be like that.”
“Like grass is supposed to feel like walkin on needles.”

And then we laughed and laughed.

Complainin about the rain ain’t gonna make it stop.

Let’s complain anyway. How’s the weather in your neck of the woods?

Posted in Personally | Tagged anxiety, lifestyle, nature, The Mister | 58 Comments

#ThursdayDoors — Scraping Up Door Change

Posted on May 12, 2016 by joey

The weather isn’t exactly DoorScursionary lately, so my door reserves are runnin low. I do hope you’re in the mood for some funky cute wooden screen doors. I have these, some grainy apartment doors, a handful of oddballs… If it rains through June, you’ll have to see the boring doors in my own neighborhood or those on the ark we’ll build to escape. Can you imagine the horror?

Let’s be positive and focus on this lil trio:

Red, yellow, or green — which one do you like?
My vote’s on yellow, because, well, it’s yellow. But I like the stone in the arch of the red one and the sheer crookedness of pretty much everything in the green door’s photo.

#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To view other interesting doors, click the link and see what others are posting today.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Thursday Doors | 40 Comments

One-Liner Wednesday — Anxiety Diagnosis

Posted on May 11, 2016 by joey

“I realize these itchy bumps on the back of my head may very well be from sweating, but my anxiety tells me it’s either lice or hair cancer.”

One-Liner Wednesday is brought to you by LindaGHill

Posted in Personally | Tagged anxiety, anxiety disorder, anxiety symptoms, One-Liner Wednesday | 33 Comments

Predatory Living

Posted on May 10, 2016 by joey

I read Marian Allen’s short story about alligators today and thought maybe I’d tell you about the alligators in Georgia.

First off, there are alligators in Georgia.

As a Hoosier, my experience with alligators was limited. I’d pet and eaten alligator in Florida, how tourists do, but alligators are not native to Indiana, and so not once had I left my house and thought gee, i sure hope no alligators eat me today.

I moved to Georgia mid-June, which means I thought I had moved to the sun. The climate itself was inhospitable, so I had to adapt before I could learn to fear local predatory animals.

I immediately became Uptight White Lady Who Never Leaves Her House.
Things I said that first summer:
“They want to walk around Savannah? In daylight? On purpose?”
“How do people live here? WHY do they live here?”
“There are so many dermatologists…Divorce, pawn, dermatologist, divorce, pawn, dermatologist, divorce, pawn, dermatologist…”
“It don’t rain right here.”
“Does the sun ever even set?”
“They need to plant some fuckin trees, Goddamn!”
“Drink water or you will shrivel up and die like my goat’s beard.”
“Does anything grow here? Can you eat any of this? I don’t think God intended people to live here.”

Within a few months of living in Georgia, we all went to Family Night at the swamp.

Y’all remember the swamp, yeah?

This was called Mandatory Fun, which The Army was fond of, and which was regularly scheduled so that you could test your endurance for mental anguish. First I was taken into a large screened-in pavilion where I was told my husband would likely die over the winter, then I talked to someone about Pink Floyd because I didn’t know the guy was The fucking Company Commander and then I spent all night worried about the alligators. Specifically, I worried about the alligators eating my children.
I could easily visualize the scenario. A swarm of alligators, their yellow-green eyes glowing in the night, rising from the pond, chomping up Army Brats as they scoured the playground for bigger prey. Everyone running and shrieking as more and more alligators emerged.

When my husband deployed that winter, I took to long walks, which helped me not think as much about his imminent death. I walked sidewalk trails in our neighborhood, one of which curved around a swamp. I hadn’t thought a thing of it — all the walkin and joggin mommies frequented these paths. One day a neighbor kid told me to be careful because he’d seen an alligator in there.
An alligator. A few blocks from my home. Good gravy.
Army wives from Florida said if I didn’t bother the alligators, they wouldn’t bother me.
I used to say the same dumb shit about yellow jackets.

I decided I preferred jogging around the swamp.

After my husband didn’t die, he came home and we made a lot of trips to the VA hospital in Augusta, because what doesn’t kill you will kill your spine. We saw a lot of things on those trips, but mostly we remember the tornado and the alligator. An alligator crossed the road in front of us, and let me tell you, they are WAY faster than my imagination can handle!

I didn’t see another alligator for almost a year.

As every worrier knows, it’s when you stop worrying about things, when you think everything is right as rain, bad stuff happens. One day, on that trail by the swamp, an alligator heaved itself up from behind the cattails and plopped down on the mud in front of me, like it was no big deal.

I ran home.

Several years passed without an alligator sighting.

When we adopted our Sadie dog, I frequently took her to The Swamp of Mandatory Fun to let her walk off-leash. Yes, it was against the rules, but there was never anyone there. Sometimes True and I would take the kids out there to play. It was the closest thing to my version of nature we had. (Sometimes I even saw birds there!) The sun would kill me if I stayed on the sidewalks, the woods harbored wild boars and creeped with stinging nettles and poisonous plants.
The swamp, even with its occasional alligator heads surfacing, was the clear choice.

Coyotes are not frequently spotted in Indianapolis. What predatory animals live where you live?

Posted in Random Musings | Tagged anxiety, lifestyle, nature, True | 82 Comments

Share Your World #19

Posted on May 9, 2016 by joey

1. You win a pet monkey but this isn’t just any old monkey. It can do one trick for you whenever you want from getting a pop out of the fridge to washing your hair. What would be the trick?
As much as I’m tempted to use my pet monkey to collect pet hair from the floors, furniture, and from the pets themselves, really, I’m like, is that monkey potty-trained? wtf do monkeys eat beside bananas? what are the sleeping habits of monkeys? how long do monkeys live? does my vet even see monkeys?
Nah, I got a Moo, three cats, and a dog. I’m good, thanks.

2. What caring thing are you going to do for yourself today?
I ate and I stretched. Go me.

3. What color do you feel most comfortable wearing?
My closet is well over 50% blue. The rest is mostly white, although there’s some black, and a little gray. I rarely wear actual color. On any given day, I want to wear white, but sometimes I need to preserve energy.

4. Complete this sentence: When I travel I love to…explore. I don’t like itineraries. I like to cultivate authentic experiences.

Bonus question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

I’m most grateful for the people who wrote or told me my writing about my anxiety helps them. It’s comforting to feel understood and being given kind words is encouraging. What a reward for me! After such a disappointing week, Saturday was heavenly. I did not leave the house. I definitely did not do too much. Also, The Mister did his best to make Mother’s Day a good one for me.

Here I am at the end of the day, all spoiled and sleepy. And wearin white…

I am not ready for this week. This week knows it, too.

Cee’s Share Your World is a weekly feature and all are invited to play along.

What’s going on in your world?

Posted in Personally | Tagged gratitude, happiness, lifestyle, Moo, SYW, The Mister | 28 Comments

Kvetch and Vent

Posted on May 6, 2016 by joey

My anxiety has been bad lately.
It’s not because of anything. If it were because of anything, it wouldn’t be called Anxiety Disorder.

My life is just as peachy keen and just as rotten awful as everyone else’s.

This bout of anxiety started slowly a few weeks ago and escalated on Saturday last, when we went to Moo’s dance performance. Everything was fine, I was fine, but it was a rainy day, and we had to drive to the west side. I hate riding in the car in rain almost as much as I hate driving in it. I can’t drive to the west side without getting lost. You must understand, these are triggers for me. There is sizable baggage attached to these situations.

The Mister decided we should get coffee on the way, which I thought was a fantastic idea. Then he wanted to stop at the ATM, and I felt like we were too pressed for time. I hate to be late. I couldn’t figure out why he had a stack of cash the night before, but had to go to the ATM. We hadn’t gone anywhere to spend money…

He started to exit when the directions said to go to Crawfordsville Road in two more miles. Perhaps it was the panic on my face that told him he should follow the directions.
He was relaxed; I was uptight. I began to feel unwell in that unmistakable panic way, and I wondered if my coffee was truly decaffeinated.

Upon arrival, The Mister dropped us at the door. Despite my nagging, the girls were too cool to carry their umbrellas, so they squished under mine. We stood in line. As we slowly approached the door, I realized we couldn’t buy tickets, since The Mister had the cash.

I’d like to try to explain what that felt like, but I really can’t. Sorta like bursting impatience, when you think you will not pull through before you spontaneously combust. And not just impatience for the line, in the crowd, after a rainy car ride, and unexpected stops, and running late, and being cashless, but for the terrible vibration of pent-up energy in my body.

Since vertigo is generally my first symptom, there’s a lot of self-talk involved in staying upright for the sake of upholding societal norms. No one wants to be the mommy lying prone on the pavement with people asking, “Are you okay?”
I tried to become a pillar, although I felt more like I was floating. I tried to find the pleasant things on site. I was fairly certain I would pass out, or you know, die, because that’s what panic is like. I tried to count my breaths, but I couldn’t. By the time we got to the door, my body was on high alert with sweat and a high voltage headband.

Soon enough The Mister showed up, paid our way, and we found seats. He apparently wanted to sit up high with the hawks and I was feeling much more burrowing bunny — the ground is my friend. After asking if seats were good every 3-4 steps up, I told him to lead the way. Then I sat down and broke down. Shaking, crying, rapid breathing, the whole bit. My family pet me, which was sweet, but useless, because I just needed to release.

I calmed down, enjoyed Moo’s show, even did some line dance thingy with her at the end.

Going home was easier. We stopped at Chili’s, which we hadn’t been to since we left Georgia. I ate shrimp tacos. Yum!

We laughed and had a fabulous time. Much merriment.

Sunday was easy, and I do mean easy, but still the anxiety hung on. Sunday night seemed like a really good time to lie in bed and obsess about things far into the future, and also none of which I can control. *shrugs*
(That’s how to throw a party for your anxiety. If you do it long enough, you can hear your heart beat with each pang and find yourself asking if you’re even breathing. Good times!)
I got up and took half a pill. Then, due to the magic of modern medicine, I finished watching that show, counted my blessings, and slid off into dreamland.
Where I had terrible dreams.

Of course, Monday morning came and the week’s work started. Lots of driving. Lots of vertigo. Lots of errands. Whee.

Sometimes I think that if I didn’t have children, I’d rarely leave the house.

Monday was damn near sleepless, and Tuesday offered more errands, more driving, more vertigo.

Wednesday found me walking in the rain, twisting into yoga poses, meditating, reading, napping — in hopes of building momentum for my shopping trip. Does not everyone sing “The neverennnndiiiiing shoppiiiiiing” and imagine their car is Falcor? Non?

I’d read the sales flyer wrong. Cod was not on sale. Cod not being on sale was an excellent reason to experience another anxiety attack. In the grocery store. And then to white-knuckle my way home through rush hour traffic. Yay me.

Things only got worse at home. I’d said I’d attend a graduation ceremony last night. I said I would. Except, I assumed the graduation would be on a Saturday, even though it clearly wasn’t. The graduation was a 2-3 hour drive away. I’d need to take the girls out of school early to make it. I’d have to drive alone and return late, late, late, possibly needing to take them in late on Friday as well. I was conflicted and overwhelmed. I say no enough to know I’m not a Nice Lady, but once I’ve committed, I don’t back out.

Sassy has missed one school day all year, and Moo hasn’t missed a single one. Grades are not a problem. I thought maybe I could just take them out of school for the day. Drive my 2-3 hours WEST, make a day of it, still drive 2-3 hours home late, late, late, but with a longer period of recovery between. That ended up not bein great on the other end. I was sad. And angry at schools that hold graduations on Thursdays!

Knowing my struggles, my friend understood. Still I felt crushed with guilt and sick with disappointment.
I tried to talk myself into it.
I was thinkin about that drive, the stress, the dark, alone in the car with my girls. It took me to a dark place. I have made more than a dozen anxiety-riddled road trips (100-800 miles one-way) alone or with my kids in the last ten years. Those trips are all painfully close to the surface of my memory, for having to pull over and even sometimes check into a hotel to stop the panic. The pain, the dizziness, the nausea. Then the anxiety hangover. Feeling like utter shit for days afterward, because I pushed my limits.

It’s important to push our limits, but it’s crucial to know what they are and when to push them.

I could imagine the drive. I could imagine it happy, excited, exhilarating, listening to music, drinkin my cream soda, cruisin along…
But inevitably, anxiety hangover.

I declined, recanted, broke my word. I felt so victimized by anxiety. The timing was no good, but without anxiety, or fear of it, would I have driven 4-6 hours in one night? I don’t know. Doubt is no good for me. Did I give into anxiety and let it dictate my behavior, or did I make a good decision in knowing my limits?

I made myself a mojito. I made breakfast for dinner and yes, I do think mojitos pair well with brekkie, cause citrus. After the third mojito, I smoothed out.
I slept real well.

Rum, I think, is my drink.

Thursday let me take the girls to school, do two loads of wash, press The Mister’s shirts, clean the kitchen, spot-clean upholstery, deal with the mower guy, and make tacos.

Tacos have always been there for me. In the event of deployment, one can sublimate sexual urges by perfecting gringa tacos. Switch to ground turkey and season it your damn self because then they’re almost healthy. You’re welcome.
You know what goes well with tacos?
Paper plates.
And MOJITOS!

Friday has me running out for the fucking cod that’s finally on sale, but not too much otherwise. The weekend lingers. I like to think the weekend lingers closer, heavier, with greater mass than my anxiety, but it’s been a rough time lately.

Thanks for letting me kvetch and vent all over your devices — How’s your anxiety?

Posted in Personally | Tagged anxiety, anxiety disorder, anxiety symptoms, food, lifestyle, Moo, Sassy, The Mister | 53 Comments

#ThursdayDoors — Brightwood

Posted on May 5, 2016 by joey

Last month, I met local food blogger Benson for a tour of his old stomping grounds, an Indianapolis neighborhood called Brightwood. Our outing didn’t provide us with too many doors, but it was interesting. I suppose it was nostalgic for him and I really enjoyed his perspective, with personal details. We were there midday when the sun was high, so we had peculiar light. Thanks to Cee I’ve recently learned this not an ideal time to take photos outdoors. Unless you’re doin artsy sorta stuff…Mother Nature’s own filters can be pretty.

Benson took me to Brightwood’s former main street.

1940’s

Photo from: Historic Indianapolis

It doesn’t look like that now. I wish I’d taken a long shot like this, as a before and after, but regret is a waste of our time. Pay attention to the bank there on the left side of the old photo, we’ll come back to that.

There were some noteworthy doors.

I think we can agree from the photos, security takes priority in Brightwood these days.
The neighborhood is full of litter, very few homes are cared for, many are boarded up. The one good thing you can say about it is what Benson said, “The streets are clear and that means people are at work.”
A man of many years nodded to us from his porch.
We encountered a woman in her nineties, out tending her patch of yard. I reckon she’s a good neighbor because she asked us what we were doing. She said she’s lived there since the late 60’s and watched the neighborhood fall into ruin. She said, “It breaks your heart, but what can you do?” Y’all, she was dressed head-to-toe in layers of purple and I could’ve listened to her all day.

There’s a big church with a grand entrance.

And in old places, there’s a lot more variety in texture.

Old homes, especially those made of wood, are always appealing to me. There’s life in old wood.

But I kinda fell in love with that old bank building from the black and white photograph.

Ain’t she sweet?

I discovered a squirrel in the tree, and you know how I do, I hadda commune and snap. Don’t look too closely, it might make you dizzy.

Anyway, it was a great DoorScursion, and we finished it with some tasty food. I could regret that I didn’t photograph my food, but I was too busy eating it to care! I had fried okra, mac n’cheese, greens, and peach Faygo. I might write about that some other time.

#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To view other interesting doors, click the link and see what others are posting today.

Posted in Random Musings | Tagged Thursday Doors | 33 Comments

One-Liner Wednesday — Verification

Posted on May 4, 2016 by joey

After the fire department called to make sure everything was okay, I had to say, “Moo Mae Mottern, you cannot call 911 to report that your sisters won’t play with you. That is NOT an emergency!”