One psychological drama after another . . . and still thankful !?!

Dear you,

The above is compliments of a Google image search, prompted by my "challenging" week.  Clearly, my problems are first world in nature:  virus in laptop that pushed me into paranoia about everything (dude who invaded said laptop called himself "Dave"), rumor from weird local that an equally weird local named "Darrell" said he was my boyfriend and future housemate, spreading this "exciting news" to the nosiest condo owners here.

Thanksgiving is tomorrow.  And look at those problems.  Hardly life or death.  Although they did/do create high anxiety because, you know, WHO THE HELL IS DAVE?  And WHO THE HELL IS DARRELL?

They are Dave and Darrell, somebodies out there somewhere who think this is the best way to handle their business.

Sigh.

And so I am off my ass handling mine, doing whatever security interventions I need to do on both fronts.  Indeed, a first world kind of drama . . . stuck in my head.

So, back to Thanksgiving, here's the list of things to be grateful for:
1. Health/fitness!  I can still knock out push-ups and run around like a child.
2. The feline pet, Miss V.
3. This library where I am typing now filled with books and not weird people.
4.  Friends, even remote in location.
5.  Every odd thing I have ever done.
6.  Every odd thing I will ever do.
7.  My dental hygienist.
8.  Publix supermarket who literally cooks for me.
9.  The Gulf of Mexico.
10. Journalists (the ones from Earth 1, not Earth 2).
11. Athletes and artists.
12. And in some strange way, the Daves and Darrells who remind me I am not immune to the bull**** everybody deals with.

Joyful Thanksgiving to you all.
Love,
J

Write with your phone....oh, hell no.

Dear you,

Never

 Blog with a phone keyboard.  Here is a flower.  I have that. In the phone file.  Don't ask about the automatic centering of the text.

Epic fail!

Love...

J

Missing things . . .

Dear you,


For months here in Seagrove Beach, we had no rain.  We did have merciless, blazing sun and tourists grilling, setting the occasional fire due to flying embers.  Then finally, we got rain.  But we also got days of too much cloud cover and continual, depressing drizzle, see today.


My point is not to be The Weather Channel, but to contemplate missing something, then getting it, and then wanting it to go away.


Is this a shared trait or just part of my Goldilocks syndrome?  This gal only wanted “just right”.  But I wonder if after she found the “just right” she really enjoyed the gift, the thing she wanted/missed?

We are mysteries to ourselves.


I am a bit bored with the Seagrove Beach scene but never, ever, tire of the Gulf of Mexico.  When I drive a few miles in country to continue my search for a quiet, freestanding house that is “just right”, I can’t wait to get back close to the water.  Yesterday, returning from a showing and contemplation of a house purchase, as soon as I got close to Highway 30A (our coastal road), everything felt light.  Sort of just right.


But still . . . I am missing something like the rain during dry days.

Maybe I should aim for and accept “happiness” instead of vision-questing for perfection.  I guess happiness is not my idea of “just right”.  


And that remains a mystery to me.


Meanwhile, news of the California fires is on the television.  I see people on the run and leading scared horses to safety, wherever that may be.  Poor California, one of our paradise states, the place where everything is more than “just right”.  Even there, things burn.  And rain is not falling to douse the flames. 

Missing rain in California.  Missing something everywhere.


Maybe it’s time to go Buddhist and overcome desire, the constant striving for “just right”.  But then again, what would it feel like to simply BE?  I would probably miss the feeling of longing for that missing something.


Okay, enough reflection.

Time for a few pushups, playtime with Vivo cat, and then a big Subway sandwich for lunch.  No thinking, or missing, required.

XO

Joyce

Getting over . . .

Dear you,


What a week.  Meteor showers in the sky and another war on the ground.


My country abandoned the Kurds.

My president did this.  I cannot stop him.


Now, I hear on the news that there are proposed sanctions against Turkey for attacking the Kurds.  Proposed, being the key word.  My president creates chaos/death and then wants to act all heroic and stop what he started.  


Surviving all this (psychologically) requires a special kind of exuberance.  A kind of resistance to a newly minted “reality”.   When I feel how I need to feel in the face of all this nonsense, it is like this:

 Are you ready to jump?


My previous blog was all about taking a knee, in sorrow, in honor of what we are losing.  Now it is time to get up and GET OVER. The vaulter in the photo is about to get over that little bar.  He is looking up at the meteor shower, universal reality of time and beauty, and with the help of a pole (tools/technology/knowledge) and sheer force of will (exuberance) he will GET OVER.


As will we.

Keep the faith. 

Keep the exuberance.

JUMP!


Love,

Joyce

Take a knee . . .

Dear you,

Life in Trumpland . . . our POTUS is creating his own little kingdom, day by day blatantly confessing to aberrant behaviors.  And it is feeling like he might just get away with it, yet again.  It feels like a really depressing sports movie:


Setting: football stadium, sold out crowd, major game

Plot/conflict:  From the opening quarter to the last, one team is openly vicious They horse-collar, rough the kicker, rough the passer, tackle out of bounds, grab facemasks, and those are the softer actions.  They also spit in the referees’ faces, reach inside helmets and break noses, kick the “enemy” mascot, scream ‘fuck you” at fans, and when one brave ref finally makes a call and beckons the offender over for a conference, he says “YOU TALKIN’ TO ME?”  The ref backs down.  And the bad guys win the game.

Subplot:  The majority of the fans in the stands support the fouled team.  They have faith.  They suffer the blows, aghast at the lack of rules or decency.  They have hope.  “This can’t last much longer; good will triumph in the end.”  But it doesn’t.  They are simply shocked and worry about the future of the sport.

Climax:  Post-game press conference features the quarterback of the bad team.  He is righteously indignant when questioned about his team’s rouge behavior.  And he goes further.  “They were cheating, not us.  They always cheat.  We have a right to do whatever we need to win.  And besides, they’re not patriots.”


Fade out and roll credits.


So, I take a knee this day for something bigger than a football game.

Good luck out there.

XO

Joyce

Why?

????????????????????????



Dear you,

Why are so many Americans supporting our President?  Every day, he stands in front of cameras and lies.  He doesn’t even blink.  Yesterday, he talked about how European nations have never contributed $ to help Ukraine protect itself.  And, of course, they have.  But he just keeps saying that, the lie.


So, on this day as we move towards impeachment, chat about the latest scandal (whistle-blower), and apparently back-burner the UN report about our Earth/bodies of water and wild things being pretty much . . . done, I can only ask WHY?

Possible answers:

1. The Trump diehards truly want a “white”, polluted, and fast food fueled culture.

2. The Trump voter has been taught over and over and over that democrats or liberals are “not really Americans”.  We are evil and pagan and too physically fit to be real Americans. That propaganda loop is running in their heads and cannot be shut down.

3. The Evangelical Trump supporters want the world to end so they can get on to their theorized version of heaven.

4. Like the old-school Republicans (see the Senate) who flipped from reviling Donald to kissing his ring, perhaps Trump supporters fear him and believe his threats about a ruined nation “if” he is ejected or not re-elected.

5. And finally, the worst possible answer, his fans are simply assholes.

There it is.

But guessing WHY does not lessen my confusion. 

Why choose something ugly instead of a forward-moving nation, one that works cooperatively with other forward-moving nations?


Because, see one through five above.


Currently the man in question is yakking at a televised press conference and blathering on about how everything he touches turns to gold.  Great success . . . etc., etc., etc.  He is living in his own head, his own movie.  I guess we all do. Which raises another question that is not “why?”:

What will I do today?


I will simply post this little blog-thought, take care of my Vivo-cat, step out to the beach in this record-breaking heat and pick up discarded beer bottles tossed aside by our lovely visitors, and do my best.  Try to do my best.  And write a better movie script!

XO

Joyce

Borrowed wisdom and this fragile flesh . . .

Dear you:

Am I the last person to discover the “dictate” tool on my Word Document production toolbar? 

Am I also one of the last bourgie people discovering that Tom Brady’s TB12 menu makes so much sense?


So many tools to use and I am still searching for new ones.  The TB12 project began like this:

I am standing at the magazine section of the local Publix Supermarket.  On one cover, there is Tom.  The article inside is all about his workout program and diet, things he credits for being fabulous on the field at 40 something.  I have seen this basic information before, but this time, something clicked. I CAN SORT OF DO THIS!


I am a 60 something woman with a dancy-workout background and not an NFL quarterback/billionaire with a full-time chef who makes kale taste not like kale.  What can I adapt from this man’s plan that will improve my “game”?  I worked with the menu.  What to keep, what to cut, and what to add/adapt:


Keeping – coffee and orange juice (sorry Tom), and all fish (He may only do wild salmon, but I am keeping my pesca-options open.)

Cutting – dairy (except for cream in that morning coffee), silly energy draining desserts, pop and sugar in general, frozen dinners (which all taste like cardboard anyway), and 95% of beef, chicken, and pork.  More on that 5% later.

Adding – more greens, whole sweet potatoes, non-GMO whey protein powder shakes, and tons of H2O.

Adapting – sugar-free almond milk for those shakes instead of milk, gluten free-non-GMO bread instead of bad on-the-shelf bread (Toast, I cannot give up toast, Tom).

5% moments of accommodation – every now and then, I want that strip of bacon in my salad; a grilled free-range chicken breast at a restaurant is a nice change; a can of chili-mac Campbell’s soup is seriously good stuff.  And, once a week, a pizza, slated for Sunday NFL football viewing.

                                                                                      

How’s this going so far?   I am more energized, hydrated, balanced, and that occasional unwelcome visitor, heartburn, is gone. 


So, I am not going gently into that not-so-good night.  Okay, I admit Brussel sprouts are still appalling and the cutting beef thing is prompted by a desire to protect our planet. (Really, do we need burgers and gassy-ass milk more than a green planet?  Check out the Amazon, before it’s gone.)  But I like “projects” and change, so I am in.  This is my micro-version of willful evolution.  Still mortal, still fated for whatever, and still experimenting.


Enough for today!  It is time for a smoke on the balcony.  What?  Is that weird?  Why are you laughing?  Well, at least I don’t vape.


Flawed love from Joyce

Carpe Diem!