a little bit of everything all of the time

I was sitting between two others on the bench seat of a pickup, holding on to a couple of "forties".  I don't remember who the driver was or who had the window seat.  I was 15 or 16 years old, and the three of us had gone on a booze run from a party we'd been attending.  Who bought the booze?  Why forties?

Those questions didn't really matter to me at the time because I was thinking, "Wow, my first drunken high school party!!"  Yeah, I'd made the "big time" *snore*.

I recall that my first real "ex" was also at that party.  He'd been a bigtime crush - sent my heart all a-flutter just at the site of him.  He drove a Pontiac Thunderbird - the only one like it in town - and whenever I saw that car, I became a big noodle, knowing he was in there.

Earlier that school year, I'd gathered all of my nerves and asked  him to go to the Homecoming dance with me.  OMG, what was I thinking?! I was a sophomore, he'd been a senior the year I was in 8th grade!

But I'd crushed on him big time, and it worked.  I actually called him from a payphone to ask him out because this was LONG before cell phones, and I didn't want anyone in my house overhearing the momentous call.  

We went to Homecoming and were together for a while.  It eventually fizzled the way these things do, so then I had an ex!  AND I was at a drunken high school party!!  Woo hoo, look at me checkin' all the boxes!

Thankfully, while I attended that party and many more to follow, I was never a big drinker - or smoker for that matter.  In the low-income small town where I grew up, "drugs for the rich" weren't much of a problem as far as I knew.  Alcohol and weed were about it.

Oh sure, I underwent that rite of passage, but in the end, I got over the "let's get shitfaced!" mentality pretty quickly.  That served me well later in college as I'd already gotten my party days out of me for the most part.  I was too broke to party much in college, plus I needed to do my homework.

College was where I met the equally not-into-getting-shitfaced Magnum, who eventually asked me to marry him.  Admittedly, I think we both were a little tipsy at the impromptu proposal.

There are so called "healthy" addictions too.  I've sometimes wondered if I'm addicted to running since I've enjoyed running for as long as I can remember.  Times when I couldn't run - e.g. injuries and pregnancies - I would sometimes have dreams about running, then wake up and be all, "ah, bummer".

Or people will ask what I'm training for, and I'm, "Nothing.  It's just for fun".  But I'm sure I'm not addicted.  Pretty sure.

For January of this year, a local running store created a challenge on the running app I use: walk or run at least one mile a day for 15 days in January to be entered in a drawing for a free pair of shoes.  I signed up, mainly to support the store but not expecting to win anything.  January came to a close.

This morning, I decided to see what was what with that challenge.

Lo and behold.

My name?  Listed as the winner?

I thought maybe the app was glitching.

But nope, apparently it's legit.

New shooz for me!

Not only do I get freebie shoes, but everyone who participated gets a 15% discount in February.

What a nice thing for that store to do.  These COVID times, businesses are hurting. 

And I thought I'd link up with Mama Kat this week, but it was a tough decision regarding which prompt to write about!

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1. Tell us about something you are “addicted” to.
2. Write about your proposal.
3. Tell us about a crush you had in high school.
4. Write a blog post inspired by the word: party
5. Share a blog post about a tough decision.
6. Tell us about the last nice thing somebody did for you

want some?

I was 20 years old and had recently moved from my small town to the big city. I worked the front desk of a luxury hotel in downtown Denver and was about to start my morning shift.  Walking to the hotel restaurant to fill my coffee mug, I took in the elegant surroundings - a far cry from my "sheriff" days in the corral.

As I filled my mug with hot steaming caffeinated goodness, I chatted with one of the waitstaff, all dapper in his uniform - black pants and vest, crisp white shirt and tie.  He asked if I wanted anything from the kitchen.

"Nah, thanks", I replied, "just need this coffee, heh"

"Want some spid?", he then asked as he brought his thumb and forefinger to the lapel pocket of his vest.

"What?", I asked, thinking I didn't hear correctly.  Spid?

"Some spid?", he said again with his bit of Spanish accent.

Oh... SPEED.  He was offering me drugs.

"Ah, yeah, no thanks... just the coffee" *smile*

I thought of another coworker from my previous sheriff hotel.  He worked graveyard maintenance shift and told me how he'd do speed before coming in, get all his work done in about an hour, then have the rest of the time for whatever.  Yeah, okay.

I never had the urge, although I did my fair share of underage drinking and dabbled a bit in weed before it was legal.  But it was really more of wanting to see what the hype was about.  Okay, been there and done it.  A coworker at another hotel I worked at suggested she get us some cocaine to do after our shift sometime.  Never happened due to lack of enthusiasm.

(Now I'm wondering if hotel staffs are rampant with drugs, or was it just where I happened to be working when I was of drug-introduction age?)

I've read that genetics factor strongly in a person's vulnerability to addiction.  With that in mind, I'd say I have little to no genetic disposition, although, yeah, I confess to being addicted to caffeine.  Still. 😏

I recently read the book, "Reborn on the Run" by Catra Corbett.  It was suggested from the local running club I joined before COVID, to get discounts on race entries and other events, meet some locals, volunteer, etc.  Yeah, all that stuff's pretty much cancelled, but hey, they have a newsletter!  And they read stuff!


Anyway, Catra's book is a memoir of her becoming an ultrarunner to overcome her addiction to meth, or spid.

It was an engaging enough story as she's, literally and figuratively, quite a colorful character - full of tattoos and piercings, likes to wear loud colors.  In her previous drug life, she'd been a big time goth.

I have no interest in ultrarunning and no need for overcoming addiction(s), but was interested to hear one person's point of view.  She claims to not be addicted to running, but I wonder after reading.  She also mentions that there are a lot of reformed addicts in the ultrarunning world.  As I read, I felt that she is predisposed to addiction.  If it wasn't drugs then ultrarunning, it would be something else.


It's commonly advised  that, to effectively quit a bad habit or addiction, replace it with something else.  Getting to a point of tripping on meth almost constantly required an obsessive replacement.  She does admit to being "obsessed" with running.

The book is neither steps to overcoming addiction nor a guide to becoming an ultrarunner.  It's Catra's story, and I give it 3 out of 5 stars ⭐⭐⭐★★ because it's a story deserving of a book.  But I had to gripe a bit about the writing.  Awkward sentence structures, poor wording, and full on grammar errors show up throughout.   I don't know what her co-author contributed and honestly wondered if maybe the wrong draft got sent to the publisher.

What are you reading?  Addicted to anything?

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Linking up this week with Mama Kat for the prompt:
2. Write about the last book you read.

breaking bad?

I left my house for a run this morning, and as I turned the first corner to leave the neighborhood, I was met with a scene similar to this:

But not just one armored vehicle.  Two vehicles like this with SWAT guys mounted on each side, all gunned up.  Behind them were several more police vehicles taking up the incoming lane of traffic for about a block long stretch.  It looked kind of like the end of a 4th of July parade except nothing was moving and no one was throwing candy.

Yup, the po-po was back in the 'hood.

As I rounded that corner and came upon this scene, all the helmeted heads swiveled in my direction and locked eyes.

Needless to say, I stopped in my tracks, thinking, "Oh sh*t...". At least I don't THINK I said it out loud.

After a moment, one of the SWAT guys hanging onto the first vehicle motioned me and said to go on ahead, and I was thinking, "really?" as I looked at the long line of force I would run past.  Dutifully, however, I did as I was told and jogged on by with a bit of extra pep in my step.

Highly curious as to what was about to go down, I couldn't get a read from any of the coppers I went by.  They each seemed to be watching me, but all were silent save for one hairy one that gave a short *BARK*

When I returned after my run, all was clear, but I think it's safe to say they were back to visit the same house as last time.  The news story that ran after the first incident concluded with, "...more arrests are expected" as they continue to dismantle the drug trafficking organization.  Sheesh.  Such an innocent looking street with young families and puppies...

What are your neighbors up to?

eternal sunshine, pubic pies, and a bear

We watched Midsommar over the weekend.  Seen it?

It's weird.  And disturbing.  And weird.  And certainly not for everyone.

It's about these American friends/ grad students - including one romantic couple - who accompany their Swedish friend to a Midsommar festival.  Sounds like a good time and good material for an anthropology thesis.  Well...

Oooh, won't this be fun and wholesome?

Turns out to be a big ceremonial observance thrown by a cult involving all kinda Pagan ritual sh*t.

WHAAAAAT  THE....??

I liked it 😳.  So bright yet... SO dark.

And it's one of those movies  that could be watched multiple times to see things not noticed before.  Lots of symbolisms and camera angles and hidden details that make much more sense once the story plays out.

It's also hard to know "the truth" because the revelers are often tripping on mushrooms.  Was it real?  Or just a drug trip through one character's experience?  Either way, I liked it. Talk about an "escape"!  Maybe I'll watch it again at some point.

As I look out my window now, it's cloudy and dreary out.  I could go for some Swedish sommar (without the drugs and offputting [spoilers]).  Then I remember it's January.  Maybe I'll go ride my winter bicycle to feel better.

It's pink.

Have you seen Midsommar?  Like/hate it?  Any wintertime movie recommendations?

drug bust

I was having a weird dream just before the alarm woke me this morning.  I've mentioned how we've been decluttering (in real life, not the dream... yet).  In my dream, I went into one of the rooms in our house and realized I hadn't been in there in a while.

Omigosh, it was full o' stuff!  Boxes and bags, old furniture from my parent's house, random small appliances...  And the old furniture from my parent's house - with drawers, shelves, and cabinets - was filled with more stuff!

Most all of the items in the furniture, boxes, and bags were either things that belonged to my parents, who are both deceased, or things that belonged to my kids when they were little.  Like very little.  Toddlers.

What does it mean?  Whatever, I was glad to wake up.

Speaking of getting rid of stuff, I tossed a buncha drugs yesterday.

To set me up for that recent dental procedure, the Dr. gave me some prescriptions to fill.  One was a mouth rinse, the others were all pain relievers.  I'm a lightweight and have a low tolerance for drugs, and I'm unfamiliar with the different names and uses.

I went to the pharmacy and filled all the prescriptions like a clueless dutiful little patient, figuring I'd google them when I got home.

One of the prescriptions was for the opioid, Vicodin.  What?  I thought there's an opioid crisis, why am I buying opioids??  Then it made me think, "sh*t, how much is this gonna hurt?!"

Still, I was determined not to dip into the Vicodin or the other stuff.  But since I'd already purchased it, I then thought, "Hmm... wonder what I could get for this..."  JUST KIDDING!

I knew I wanted to get rid of it, and the pharmacist actually gave me a packet to get rid of unused drugs:  Dispose Rx.  Toldya, I am not well versed in drugs, so this may be old news to some.

The stuff worked just as described.  It was like a flashback to middle school science class.

Turned my Vicodin to mush

I'm also happy to say I never once felt a need for such heavy narcotics.  My left cheek and gums are a bit chipmunky and bruised, but look worse than they feel. I'm happily, puffily, drug free.







So it seems I can't blame weird dreams on drugs.

dogs on pot and no hot gatorade

First blog post of 2019,  hooboy.  Happy New Year! Kinda feels like Tuesday.

Yesterday was FREEZing cold and just downright blustery, so for the most part, we were cave people.  I did take pupper Penny out for her first visit to the vet for a once-over and a nice-to-meetcha.  It went very well.

Poor Penny, though!  I put her in the car for her first outing since we picked her up from the shelter.  Her eyes and body language said it all:

"Is that it?  Are you taking me back to the shelter now?  I don't get to stay here?"

Omigosh, I melted.

She's been doing great - very smart and playful.  The cat is slowly warming up to her.  He actually played with her a teeny bit yesterday before deciding, "Okay, enough of this puppy business"

In other pet news, the dog of a friend of mine got out of the yard at work.  Friend is a physical therapist, and has therapy dogs and bunnies.  So, this dog got out, some friendly people found him nearby and brought him back to the office.  My friend was grateful for that, but soon noticed the pooch was having some neurological symptoms so rushed him to the vet.

He tested positive for THC - the main psychoactive component of marijuana!  They think he ate some high homeless person's poop while out on his little adventure.  Now, I know this dog.  He's very smart and does great work at the PT practice... but he's still a dog and does gross things like eat poop.

Friend (who doesn't have kids) says, "thought I would never have to worry about my kids doing drugs..."

Sheesh, never say never!  The dog shouldn't have any lasting effects - nothing some gas station burritos and a good nap shouldn't take care of.  Way to ring in the new year!

As for me, I did NOT do the Rescue Run this year.  The weather kept me away.  The current temperature is 5 degrees and -4 with the windchill.  But that's not the reason I didn't run.

We got an email yesterday from the race organizers.  Yes, the race was still on, but they cautioned that the course was very icy.  Now, this particular course is very hilly.   I don't mind running among ice.  I don't mind running up and down hills.  I don't mind running in the cold.

I do mind running up and  (especially) down steep hills that are covered in ice, so I noped out.  But I'm glad to have registered - I register anyway because it's a worthwhile charity.  Proceeds go to the county Search and Rescue.  It is typically a fun and challenging event for people like me that don't want to ring in the new year by getting plastered. But I don't regret not doing the 10k  this year.  I didn't want the team to have to rescue ME.

I wish you all a fulfilling and successful new year!

sister, can you spare a dime (bag)?

Yesterday, I was on my way home and making my way through a busy tangled intersection.  In fact, it's the busiest intersection in the county.  It's not too bad of a place for bicycling, just a bit cumbersome with all of the crossings of on- and off-ramps.  A lot of stopping and starting, but ample path space away from traffic.

As it is such a high traffic area, I've noticed that it's become a popular place for panhandlers to set up shop.  As far as I've seen, the panhandlers don't get aggressive or obstruct the flow of traffic.  They just stand near the off-ramps holding their cardboard signs.

Pinterest

So, I was minding my own business and went on by one such panhandler.  We smiled our hellos and I continued on when I heard him say, "...mumble mumble mumble..to spare?"

Pinterest

I stopped and turned to him, "Sorry... what?"

To which he replied, "Ya got any weed to spare?" and  brought his fingers up to his lips to mimic toking on a joint.

"Ah... no, sorry" I answered, "Good luck" and a wave good-bye.






So as I was pedaling on home, I got to thinking.  He's standing there asking motorists for money, but he didn't ask me for money.  He just asked me for pot.

Is it because I was on a bicycle?

Is it because I have a tattoo?

Is it because I ride a bicycle and have a tattoo?

Is it none of the above and I just look like a pothead?


Seriously, you guys would tell me if I looked like a pothead, wouldn't you?

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munchies

The word on the street - literally - is that June broke her foot.  Remember June? My crossing guard cohort? She's been out for over two months now.  Apparently it was a pretty bad break.

She's to be returning soon, however, and I'm sure everyone will be happy to see her.  June is well liked at the school.  She has a nice balance of steadfastness and kindness.  A while back, I'd asked her how long she'd worked there.  The answer converts to "forever".

I know she must be itching to get active again, but her patience has probably helped her healing.  In the meantime, her absence, I think, has been a boost for us crossing guards, a.k.a. "the forgotten ones".  In fact, I learned most about her foot situation last month when I was running that week-long ACT camp.

The ACT workshops were scheduled at a time that conflicted with my morning school zone duties, so I'd put in for coverage on those mornings.  Through slight misunderstanding, my reservist thought she had to cover both the morning and afternoon shifts.  So on that first day when I showed up in the afternoon, she was so delighted to see me and learn that her sentence was only half as bad as she'd thought.  She hugged me like a trapped cruise passenger who'd just made it back to shore.  Then she filled me in on the June situation.

All this time, the reservists have been rotating shifts to cover June's duties that also include lunchroom monitoring (no thanks!).

Admittedly, elementary school crossing guard isn't much of a glamour job.  The schedule is rigid, the weather can be a b*tch, the vest is hideous... but for people like June and me who live near the school, it works as a  nice part-time supplement.  Still, it's nice to get a day off.  Like today.

Last night after dinner, Wolfgang said he and some friends were thinking of going climbing. I thought it strange they would go climbing on a school night, but was then reminded that today is a "no student" day.



I'm not sure when it started, but our school district takes April 20th off each year.  It's the anniversary of the Columbine massacre, and it's also "marijuana day".  That combination, I suppose, made them decide to just schedule professional development every April 20th - 19th this year since the 20th falls on Saturday.

Anyway, I'm SO glad he went climbing as it served to remind me that there's no school today.  I've had a couple of other clueless close calls of going out there on no-school days and being the village idiot crossing guard.  

Another nice last minute save!  Right here in the land of legalized loco weed, no less.


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glad I'm not there... oh, wait

Friday night, I was awakened by the cat.

"Some cops are arresting a guy in a truck right in front of our house", she said, standing over me, all big-eyed.

"Really?  What for?", I groggily replied.

"I dunno.  They handcuffed the driver and put him in the back of one of the cop cars.  There's a woman in the passenger seat.  A K-9 unit just arrived", she continued.

"Ah, must be drugs then", I logically concluded while speaking with a cat.

Slowly, my body and mind merged, and I realized Chaco was doing the talking while the cat just hung out in the crook of his arm.  Otherwise, I'd start thinking those were darn good drugs out there.

Saturday morning, the drug truck was still there, right in front of our house.  Large red Ford F-150 with a cap.  I hadn't bothered to get out of my warm bed while getting updates from the cat the night before.  I wonder what the neighbors thought.

"Drug bust?  At the AbbyNormals?  Hmmm..."

It's not so hard to imagine, really.  After all, we have no Christmas decorations up.  Sure sign of a drug operation, right?  *SIGH*

Actually, we DO have some lights UP, they're just not LIT up.  Wiring obstacles.  I've left it to the menfolk to handle the decorating of the exterior of the house.  Me? On the roof?  HaHaHaHaHa!

So there are unlit light bulbs tastefully bordering our roof.  If they were lit up, it might be pretty.  In the meantime, thanks to our trucked in friends, we are the neighborhood drug house.  At least someone eventually came and retrieved the drug truck, but probably not until the damage to our reputation was done.

So today!  Today, I will get this all reconciled.  Nature has gifted us with our first snow day of the year!  There's not much accumulation yet, but it's nasty windy out - blizzardness - snow is falling horizontally.  I was so happy to not have to be at the crosswalk I went out there (??) to capture a photo of where I didn't want to be.  The things I do for this blog...

  


I actually made a video too, but it's pretty boring.  Just imagine the wind a-whipping through your ears, those traffic lights doing their Snow Day Happy Dance, and a few disgruntled commuters slogging by like turtles.








My afternoon tutelage is also cancelled, so I've got the WHOLE  DAY to finally get the house ready for Christmas!  There might even be time left over to set up a meth lab.

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in high support of red ribbon week

So you know that song? "I Kissed a Girl" by Katy Perry? Of course you do, it was on the radio, like, every 5 minutes over the summer.

I think it's a fun and cute song and all. I noticed, though, that whenever a radio station would air a caller calling into request it, and the caller was a girl, and the DJ asked if the caller had ever herself kissed a girl, caller would almost always say, "yeah *giggle *giggle*".

I feel like the 44-year-old virgin here. I mean, is this some rite of passage? Did I not get the memo? I don't even have a there-was-this-one-time-in-college story. Is it as rampant as the radio call-ins would suggest?

There were these two friends of mine in high school. They were sisters (...yes we're going there). They were only one year apart, and they shared a bedroom. In fact, they shared a bed - small house for a relatively large family. Anyway, it seems that one sister was having a particularly "good" dream and started sleep-kissing the other sister. Other sister, not being really awake either, responded in kind. Eventually they awoke from their dreamlike make-out session to being fully awake and realizing what they were doing. Much spitting and gagging ensued.

They each kissed a girl, they didn't like it.

The only personal story I have that comes close is this: I was with a very good friend of mine at a party during high school. We had been good friends since kindergarten. So we're both at this party where there was no shortage of giggle weed, ganga, jay, weed... yeah, okay there was plentiful marijuana. None of it was MINE! Dang horticulture club.

Anyway, I'm there with my good friend and he says -- aha! yes, he's a HE -- and he says he wants to kiss me. And I just start laughing because... yeah. And so he starts laughing and says it again, but stops laughing. So I stop laughing and look at him all stupidly.

Now the two of us had been friends for a long time, as mentioned, strictly platonic. In fact, at that time, it was highly suspect that he was gay. So, I don't know, I guess because he was my friend and I cared about him and all, I said okay, and he kissed me. It was really weird and... Eeeeew.

We've remained friends, and since then, he has totally come out of the closet and is living a happy life as a "wife". I sure hope it wasn't that kiss with me that pushed him over the line, but who knows. Anyway, that's as close as I come to a kissed-a-girl story.

I kissed a gay boy, and I didn't like it.
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