Good Parenting

 We all try to be good parents.  It's our first time, so we read and have a little instinct too, hopefully.  We've taken them to doc appointments, classes and even googled diet recommendations.  We try.  We communicate to learn each other.  We fuss with their potty habits, their mental needs and yes, their quirks.  We learn as we go.  We are thrilled to be a protector to them.  We try to keep them safe from cars. I once threw myself into the driveway/ street to keep the youngin' from running into a Elote truck.  I've done some stuff I tell you.  Seatbelts, air temperature controls and even music (see playlist).  We are consistent in our teachings.  We try.

Well this morning, we were served a curve ball.  A 100mph+ Ohtani pitch.  Right down the pipe.  I woke up a few minutes late and had heard our Canine King Max sort of pacing. Yes, our dog. I also heard a little tiny whimper from him, which meant..."hurry up please, it's my breakfast time."  I finally rise from our extra chilly master* bedroom and head to the kitchen.  Good morning Pookie Bear, I say.  How are ya, Big boy?  I have a few terms of endearments and slightly annoying high voices for him in the morning (again...routine). OH What in the world?!!!  I see Max...aka Biggie just zenfully scarfing down on some tortillas.  A new and sealed bag of low carb Missions.  I reach down to the floor as quickly as I could (I hadn't stretched yet) and whisked them out of his precious snout. I notice the he went in from the side versus open the ziplock properly.  A large chunk of plastic was M.I.A, nowhere to be found and I grabbed what felt like two pita sandwiches from his lips.  Max! Give me that!!

I go to computer to research if inhaling six low carb tortillas are dangerous for a dog and yes, he is okay with gluten.  It says, not too bad...watch for bloating, rub his tummy etc.  It gave me things to watch out for.

Last week, I was googling about banana peels...

We will reduce his calorie intake for the remaining day and keep and eye on him.

Long story short, he is doing well. He has a very extra innocent aura about him now...today. I just can't believe he'd go for that.  I mean I know it's taco Tuesday and all but...

Help On Aisle Three

 I'm in the container store today looking for baskets to organize the kitchen clutter.  I find my items and head toward the cash register.  I hear the worker call for assistance to a shopper.  She describes them.  Aisle Three.  The customer is wearing white pants and a black top.

When I get to the register I say to the clerk.  I could imagine if I were the shopper that needed assistance and how I would be described.  I threw in some funnies and we laugh.

Here's how it went.  Customer on aisle three needs some assistance (or some serious help).  She's wearing a wrinkly camouflage long sleeve cover, has on a "be your own kind of beautiful" t shirt and looks very confused.  Her hair is in a funky clip, as she did not appear to have styled her hair today.  She has lip liner on but no lipstick.  She must have just come from Ulta, the make-up store.  She has her personal tape measure in hand and keeps talking to herself about excess supplements, how to store them and when she might need more dishwasher eco-tabs.

May I help you?

Upper Case Management

 Having my morning cup of joe, enjoying the post rain from yesterday and I see a "ding" on my phone.  Oh neat!  The pet insurance claim has went though.  We get money back for cat Baci's two reiki sessions and one from having her ears cleaned.  

All I have to do is "accept money."  That's easy.  Click.  Accepted.

Oh shucks now I have to log in to the other account where they send the money and then you send to your bank, after a cartwheel and a few hoop jumps.  No problem, until you forget password because the last time you had to change it (for this vary reason), you wrote it on the back of a lotto ticket. 

I do the digital calisthenics.  I'm now on the questions about your favorite pet and which car you took to your first drive-in.  I pass all of the questions to identify myself.  I also show my receipt proving that the computer is mine and where I bought it in Simi Valley.

My blood pressure is going up and now I'm thinking choice words of frustration.  I've read the password requirements three times.  I'm following the rules.  One uppercase...etc.  

I'm feeling doomed at the moment.  I just want to see the funds from our good quality  medical care in my checking account.  I want to relish the feeling of thinking that the insurance is worth it.

This is not a new subject for anybody, but to get through this I must write.  I'm good with numbers and funky passwords.  I even remember them without writing them down, mostly.  I've now spend 40 minutes cumulative trying to create a new one (again).  I've followed the rules!  invalid password.  Ugh!!

Parsley Sage Rosemary and Thyme

 Doing my little grocery shopping.  I notice the great music playing.  Often for me music can be too loud or a type that makes me nervous when I shop.  This store always has great tunes and at a good volume for us 55 and ups.  I'm eager to get our healthy nosh.  The first song I hear is "I am a rock" by Simon and Garfunkel.  This kind of pumps me up for some good choices I will make and no, not just kale.  Boom!  Droppin' the romaine into the cart.  Bam!  There's a canteloupe...gently placed on my TJ tote bag.  Woo hoo.  I'm nailing this shopping thing., 

Brandy, you're a fine girl...by Looking Glass is playing.  One has to sing that out loud...his love was the ocean...so I must go get some salmon or some fish sticks (hah).  There's a port on a western bay...

You're a fine girl...wooo hoo.  Still doing well on my food choices.

As I start looking at the ice cream, the song Don't Fear the Reaper comes on.  I quickly cross the aisle to look at the zero calorie ice drinks.  That was close.

I scoot along and head over the cheese section where I really shouldn't be allowed to go.   "Don't stop 'til you get enough" by the MJ starts playing.  I laugh and grab a parmesan triangle anyway...okay and some goat cheese.  I may have also grabbed some provolone, you know for a healthy sandwich.  Another thing is, that saying provalone is kind of fun.

The songs of the 70's are one of my favorites and holy moly...a song from Grease just popped on.  You're the one that I want.  I say Ooh OOH OOH and pass by the crackers and cookies.  Nope.  Not today.

What I need, set me free....woo hoo hoo.  Good job me.

I hear Scarborough Fair play next and I saunter over to get some spices...particularly rosemary.  

The shopping trip is a success even though they say not to shop when you're hungry.  I go past the frozen aisle of plant based burgers and some stuff I shouldn't even look at.  Like frozen burritos and such.  I make it to the checkout and think about why they make carts for taller folks and  reach down to get my goods.  My mostly great choices of nourishing food.   Fudge! (no I didn't get any of that).  I keep thinking of that blue package of frozen chimichangas.  Oh my...what in the world?  I've never even made one in my life, but the frozen ones seem to be...I walk 30 feet back to the freezer and Hello Darkness, my old friend...(Simon and G again) comes on over the music airways. I resist and walk back to my checkout section.  What a great song...ugh...I repeat walking motion toward this bright blue package.  It's like my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light, that split the night...and then...

the sound of.... (me putting it on the counter)

The vision that was planted in my brain, still remains.  I will have a frozen chimichanga later.  

I rationalize that I won't over do it.  Just a frozen one now and then and no cheese.  What a fool believes.... :)

Dream Machine

Eight months ago I had a sleep study done.  It was performed at home with myself as the coordinator.  Probably very ineffecient but nonetheless.  CVirus going around, so opted not to go into the sleep clinic.  Cameras, no thank you.  How can you NOT think about cameras on you while you doze?  That can't be accurate either.  (enter sarcasm).

So I was diagnosed (ew, that's a strong word), with mild sleep apnea.  As I want the best for my health (minus nachos at the theater and an occasional glass of cab), I oblige with the recommendation of the CPAP machine.  The "dream machine" I call it.  I also call it some other names, but yeah, anyway... It keeps you from having moments of no breathing while you sleep.   Well, that's a good thing.   Helps you get quality sleep like one is supposed to.  It  helps with daytime fatigue, less pains if one has fibromyalgia and also will make you better at abstract painting and not guaranteed, but possible more poetic.

It's taken some time to get used to.  I first felt like 

had a ball and chain around my head.  How can I turn on my side? How can I bury my face into my "my pillow?" I've gone through several types of masks.  The machine has a tube and it blows air of a specific humidity and goes right up to your nose.  Oh, and try not to open you mouth.  That one was a toughie.  

I have gone from various types of nose attachments or under attachments face pieces.  Pillows, full face, and now I am trying the "wisp".  That sounds so dainty. The wisp just goes over your nose. Your whole nose. It's just plain weird.   In our bedroom, we have blackout curtains, a super comfy bed, and it's quite zenned out and now I must place this plastic nose piece attached to a 4 foot hose, hooked to a machine?  It kind of felt like a life sentence at first.  

Fast forward. Now, I'm getting much better sleep and although I don't look forward to getting hooked up before my zzzzz's, I do anyway.  

This "wisp" will play with your obsessive  mind.  Is it like a greenhouse?  Will it make my nose grow?

I keep looking at my nose and I'm feeling that it has grown. Maybe it was just it's time to grow.  Hah!!

I will stop looking at my nose.  I will stop thinking about it.  Many great poets and abstract painters have large noses.

...to be continued

I Got Nothin'

 I sit down to blog.  I've had lots of ideas lately.  Good ones. I try to log into my Finely Chopped blog.  I reload the password (look up to wine box art for clue), confirm and reconfirm it's me.  First through an email, then a text, and lastly a cheek swab.  So here I am, an observer, a visually detailed thinker.  Life is but a stage... Many fun experiences and ho- hum ones too.  I'm not leaving those out.  Well, my mind is blank about the blog subject.  I got nothin'!!

I could go on about recent months.  I could ramble about how  "unprecedented" is the word of the year, ya know...stuff like that. Physical distancing, face coverings and general people avoidance, but I'm not.  I'd rather not talk about how many times I've had groceries delivered, or the first time hubby and I used the atm machine with gloves and a "battle plan" back in March.  The fact that hand sanitizer really messes up my Mojave-esque hands and that my dog reverse sneezes when he gets a whiff of it.  I've always been a handwasher.  I've undone the the three years we spent in Italy of being a "close talker" or a "close- stand in liner."  So, I got nothin'

If having to spend time with one person, every day, all...I'm glad it's who it is.  Thankfully, we're still married.  I could go on about the coin shortage. That is a big mystery.  Where are all the piggy banks?

There are some who are very glad they didn't have to got to Holiday dinners this year. You know who you are.  We did save $748 on haircuts this year so far.  That's not counting hair color.  So really, I got nothin'.  No ideas for a blog entry.  I got nothin'.

Do You Know The Way from San Jose?

SEA to BUR via SJC

Flying home from Seattle.  I had a short layover/ transfer in San Jose.  Sounds like an easy day.
It was an easy day, but with more color, table switching and intercoms.

I land in San Jose...thinking of all the Silicon Valley-ers and the money and idea-ville I am now in.
I notice the difference in airport attire/ or airplane attire.  Less plaid, less long bearded men, more legging's and unpractical shoes (women mostly).  Hee.  For a moment, I do a self check to what I had thrown on that day.  Somewhere in between Carhart and comfort.  I'm wearing open "tennis shoes"/ bear claw style with socks.  I don't really care if people see my socks as I'm NOT walking on an airport floor in my bare feet.  No sir, no ma'am.  No way, Jose'.

I have an hour and some change before the short jaunt to Burbank.  I decide to go a few gates over to plant myself in a more non-crowded, peaceful area.  I get situated and reflect of the wonderful time I had with my niece and the excitement we had over the few days.  I made a few videos to my Georgia Sis and enjoyed the return of her videos as well.  Marcos, we call them.  As I'm filming one...I think I hear my name.  Naw, can't be...why would somebody be calling my name in San Jose'?  Skipped over to next thought and kept on goin'.

Okay, head to gate to board.  Oh wow, nobody's lined up yet...just an agent with his mouth slightly agape.  He looks at me and asks if I'm TK.  Yes, I say.  Uh, oh, did I miss my flight?  We tried paging you, he said.  Me:  Gosh, I'm sorry, I guess I'm your flake of the day.  He books me on next flight.

I can't believe myself.  Well, yes I can

to be continued...