Music on Friday

Here’s a little something by a new artist, Elle King, that I’m liking a lot:

I really like this new crop of sassy young women!

 

No Juan Home

Juan has gone to Grandma’s to be worked like a rented mule help with yard work for the week, and I feel like I’m on vacation. What a terrible thing to say. Here, take my Mom Card, ‘k?

This song perfectly sums up how I feel about his generation:

I mean, really! Get a fucking job already!

Okay, sorry. I shouldn’t be yelling at my offspring. He’s a Grown Man and can make his own decisions and right now (obviously) he’s still searching for his Dream Job and he won’t take it until he’s absolutely sure it will fulfill his soul.

FML.

Wait. He’s a good kid. I should be happy that he’s not dead or in jail or on drugs or eating kittens for breakfast, right?

Sigh. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, really I don’t. I’m not wishing any of those things on him.

Mom picked him up yesterday at noon. For the first time in 18 months I went home to an empty house. Er…trailer. The cat greeted me with a chirp and the three of us had a delightful evening alone. I forgot how peaceful my life can be. I forgot how oppressive it can be living in such a tiny space with a person who is not a lover – I mean, I don’t even take my bra off until bedtime because it creeps me out, and that, my friends, is a crime!

No idea where this post was going, so I’ll sign off and get back to work.

 

Closed for business

No, not this here blog, but my uterus. Pass this one by if you don’t want TMI today…

You might recall I wrote about my uterus a few months ago. At the time I wasn’t too concerned, just fed up with all the bother and wondering when it would all be over.

And then, nothing. Months and months of nothing. I was happy, but wondering if it wasn’t some cruel joke being played on me by the Universe and so I went through my days prepared for the flood to begin again at any moment. There was no way I could be pregnant, so I wasn’t worried about getting a “surprise,” which was small comfort, let me tell you.

I finally scheduled an appointment for a physical and blood work. I was very clear with the woman on the phone what I was going in for and she miraculously (considering the state of health care in this tiny town) ordered the correct tests, which were beamed auto-magically to my online chart thingy and I knew before I went in for the exam that I was post-menopausal at last.

For the curious, the test is called FSH and measures your Follicle Stimulating Hormone levels. Evidently, they are in very clear ranges depending on your life stage and mine are pegged almost at the end of the post-menopausal range of the spectrum, so there is no doubt.

What a relief! No hot flashes, no night sweats and my body seems to be functioning as it always has, albeit with 13 extra pounds since my last physical 18 months ago. Sigh. I was also instructed to get as much high-impact exercise as possible and take a calcium supplement to keep my bones healthy. Not swimming, not bike riding, but walking or jogging. I don’t mind walking but only a Zombie Apocalypse could ever make me jog. I shudder just thinking about it.

In the meantime, I haven’t been around here much. I have the same lame excuse as last time, and I’m back on the Vitamin D supplements for three months.

The Kid is still living with me, but he’s getting work here and there under the table. No prospects for Real Work as far as I can tell. He’s come out of his shell a bit, which is good, but I am damned good and tired of living in my tiny space with him. Don’t get me wrong, I love my son, but I am tying a knot in the end of my rope and hoping I have the strength to hold on a little longer.

Revy the RV kitty disappeared a couple of months ago. I figured he’d hopped into an open car door and gone for a ride, being dropped at the end when the driver discovered him, but a resident of the park recently made a comment about “shooting any cats” that dared invade his space, and now I wonder just what happened. “Management” has been informed and I’ve been promised resolution, but as always I’m doubtful anything productive will happen and I’ll likely never know Revy’s fate.

In other cat news, I’ve adopted another, Mr. Big. His story will be posted soon, along with some pictures. Sabu is not quite thrilled with him yet, but they were almost playing last night. Picture a very large cat and my crazy dog racing up and down a 30 foot travel trailer. Yeah. No idea what the neighbors might have thought of the trailer rocking like that, but you know I always like to keep them guessing…