Poor Monday

Do you ever get the feeling that nobody likes you? No? Just me, then.

I mean, I KNOW that people like me (I know it intellectually – emotionally I’m sometimes unsure). I have a circle of friends, some of whom I’ve known since I first moved to California. It’s just that, on Friday nights when the phone isn’t ringing and everyone is going to The Big Game, it’s easy to feel a bit like Charlie Brown.

Wait. Scratch that. It’s been a long time since I sat at home wishing that I’d been invited to a Friday Night Football game.

That’s not right either. I went to football games with friends. Memory is tricky that way. We forget things that happened and remember things that didn’t. Anyone else 100% positive that something in a dream actually happened? No? Just me then. Again.

While I might be the only one still irked because my spouse cheated on me in a dream, we’ve all fallen victim to the “Mandela effect.” As reported by UK’s Mirror in “news of the weird”, it’s “the phenomenon where people remember something incorrectly, but their recollection becomes the accepted version.” Don’t believe me? Tell me – what does the Big Bad Wolf say to the three little pigs?*

But I di-Greg (If you don’t know who Greg Kata is, you need to check out @gregisms on TikTok. No, really, go NOW. I’ll wait).

Ever feel like nobody likes you? Everybody hates you? It’s usually the EIC spreading the lie that “everybody’s out having fun without you.” Trust me, it’s a lie. One of the hardest things for me to remember is that we’re busy. “We adults”, that is. As a kid, your only job is to go to school and play. As an adult, we have to do all the things. Well, we don’t HAVE to, but we try. Most of us, at least. I don’t mean to be sexist, but men tend to be single focused while women try to multi-task.

I blame Cosmo (the magazine, not the drink). Helen Hurley Brown spent years trying to convince us that we (women) could do it all perfectly while perfectly quaffed and made up. For a woman who purported to be a “devout feminist” she certainly dedicated a lot of space reinforcing the patriarchal POV about women. Whether it’s Cosmopolitan magazine or other media (standard or social), women believe we can do it all. We spend our days working, cooking, cleaning, nursing, shopping, doing laundry, making beds and chauffeuring smaller humans around town. Oh, and let’s not forget trying to squeeze in time for a little “self-care” (tip for toddler moms – playing “Hide and DON’T Seek” will give you anywhere from 5-10 child-free minutes).

We have little to no time for ourselves, is it any wonder that we have zero time for friends? It’s ironic, really, because friendship is vitally important to our mental health – and not just because the EIC lies when the phone doesn’t ring. Remember, phones work both ways – pick up the phone and dial (or text. Whatever).

Still feeling unloved? Now you know how Monday feels. Pobrecito, everybody hates him. Her. Them. TBH I don’t know what pronoun Monday uses, but I feel sorry for it. I don’t know if this will make Monday feel better, but whenever I was feeling unloved/lonely, my mother would sing the worm song. She’d also offer to fix me a plate of worms wrapped in tinfoil. No, I don’t know why she added “wrapped in tinfoil,” but she said a lot of things I didn’t understand, including the parental fave “I’ll give you something to cry about.” I mean, I obviously have something to cry about, or I wouldn’t be crying!

*The famous line, “I’ll Huff and I’ll Puff and blow your house DOWN” has always been, “I’ll Huff and I’ll Puff and Blow your House IN”.

So tell me – did you ever play Hide and don’t seek with your kids/siblings?

Find Your Joy

Hello and welcome to your dose of Fri-yay aka some good news for the end of your week. If you’re anything like me, you’re tired of listening to all the bad and sad featured by the major news networks. Listening to the news is either alarming (“Something in your house could kill you – news at 11!”) or depressing (“We’re on the brink of war! Gas prices are skyrocketing! Avocados from Mexico are banned!”* ). Is it any wonder that so many of our commercials are for anti-anxiety and/or anti-depressant meds? (hmmmmmm…is that an AHA! moment or tinfoil hat time?).

image courtesy of wikipedia.com

One of the few good things to come out of the pandemic was John Krasinski’s Some Good News. Unfortunately, John Krasinski stopped playing on Youtube after 8 short episodes and moved on to other things. Something about having prior commitments to his Jack Ryan team or writing and directing Quiet Place 27. I know the truth – he doesn’t love me any more (then again, he doesn’t love me an less). 

With SNG on permanent hiatus, it’s up to us dig through the dreck and find the good. Thankfully, it’s not just up to me and my recently restarted blog. That’s waaaaaaay too much pressure for this somewhat cynical anti-suburban suburbanite.  

There were plenty of good things to celebrate this week, including the fact that my daughter got accepted to all three of the colleges she applied for. I realize that although this brought her joy, it affects you not at all. I’m hoping the next two stories lift your spirits. 

One of my favorite pieces from this week was the story of Jasper, the Siamese cat with a new view of his hooman’s fishtank. Evidently Jasper used to spend hours staring at the saltwater tank from a dining room chair. The new tank was finished last December. While his two-legged siblings spent Christmas eve dreaming of sugarplums, Jasper was dreaming of sushi. 

World News Tonight has started a segment entitled America Strong. It’s not quite SNG, but it comes close. Last night’s segment featured Andy Toleson, a senior at Lake Hamilton High School in Piercy, Arkansas. His team chose to give this young man a memory that will last a lifetime. He deserves it. As his coach said, “He’s taught us that if you’ll put your mind to something, and you believe in it and you have a dream, that anything is possible.” 

I have to admit, the actions of his coach and teammates made me smile, but the actions of the other team had me reaching for tissues (damned allergies!). These young men give me hope for humanity. 

So turn off the news and find something to smile about. Or, as my new TikTok BFF Greg Kata says – Find Your Joy

*Between the avocado ban and the cream cheese shortage, I might finally lose my #Covid15.

So tell me – what good news do you have today?

Love, Me (love me?)

Author’s note – you have not fallen through a hole in the space-time continuum. This piece was originally posted February of 2014. I would have posted something new, but I am suffering from post-superbowl syndrome (#Ramshouse). The EIC was kind enough to remind me that I could have written something Saturday and scheduled it to post today – to which I not-so-kindly say “STFU”. Happy V-day everyone!

It’s Wednesday February 12th, so we are currently being bombarded with advertisements from florists, jewelers and chocolatiers, all reminding us that Friday is that All Important Day to Prove our Love. Everywhere you look, there are messages about pampering your love, celebrating your relationship and BUY BUY BUY! To be honest, I’ve never been a huge Valentine’s Day fan, but this year I am (and not just because I saw a receipt for a florist in my husband’s pocket…).

This pre-Valentine’s Day celebration is special. I am part of a group of women who are blanketing the world with love. Instead of stressing the value of flowers, chocolate and jewelry for your Significant Other, we are stressing the importance of self-love (and not in an x-rated, “batteries not included” way). The idea of falling in love with oneself has come along at a very important time. My daughter is not-quite fourteen, which is a dangerous time for girls. Up until now, she’s managed to avoid or ignore the media messages on beauty and self-loathing. It’s coming soon, I can tell. I’ve seen her looking at herself in the mirror, standing sideways and pulling her shirt tight, trying to decide if the clothes are making her look fat, or if she needs to lose “just five pounds”. She recently gave up soda, and is limiting her intake of salty and processed foods. Some mothers would be proud of their daughter for making healthy eating choices. I am not. Don’t get me wrong. I am very proud of my daughter for wanting to take care of herself. I am worried that she is doing it for the wrong reason – that she is changing her diet because she thinks she is fat, and not because she wants to be healthy. I hope I am wrong.

When I was young(er), I was fearless. I had no doubt that I could accomplish anything I wanted to do. I wore kookie clothes and had weird haircuts and laughed too loudly and talked too much. Somewhere along the way between Then and Now, something happened and I became someone else. There’s nothing wrong with the person I’ve become. I’m a nice person with a nice life and nice friends living in a nice town…I’m just not me. I’m not sure what happened, but I blame the EIC (The Evil Inner Critic).

The EIC is the voice that tells us to smile instead of laugh, to listen instead of talk. He tells us that we’re not good enough, or smart enough, or pretty enough or talented enough to pursue our dreams. The EIC is the one who tells us to give up and settle down and live a nice life in a little pink house in surburbia – and then tells us that we don’t fit in – that we need to cut our hair and change the way we dress, that we need to buy a minivan and join the PTA. The EIC encourages us to change, to camouflage our true self and blend, and then laughs at us for trying.

Thanks to the reminder from the women involved with Madly in Love with Me, I am rediscovering myself. I’m the person with the misbehaving hair who snorts when she laughs. I have given up the carpool and committees and returned to writing and standup and singing loudly and off-key in my car. I have stopped caring about what strangers think of me, and am hopeful that eventually the only opinion which will matter to me is my own. The EIC still yammers at me, but his voice is getting softer, and has been joined with other voices. Voices that tell me they want to paint, and dance in the rain, and wear bright colors and sparkly shoes. Voices that belong to my True Self, who has been patiently waiting for me to listen.

This, then, is the lesson I am learning, the one thing I want to teach my daughter while I still have a chance to influence her opinion. A lesson that has taken me 30 years to remember.

Whatever you do, be true to you.

Putting the F(inish) in Friday

I realize that I’ve missed my New Year’s Resolution goal of writing on a more consistent basis (one could argue that something is more than nothing, but that’s beside the point) but I’ve been crazybusy…or at least crazy.

What’s more important than writing, you ask? (Yes, I can hear you – most of the time I just let it goooooooo). Well, reading about writing has taken up a significant amount of time. That’s a lie (have you forgotten? I lie – a lot). I’m reading Finish: Give Yourself the Gift of Done by Jon Acuff. It’s not exactly about writing – it’s about, well, finishing.

Jon is an excellent writer, and his work in Finish is both insightful and laugh out loud funny. I could go on and on about how much I love his book (and his podcast), but I won’t (and not only because I’m rapidly becoming a squealy fangirl not-so-scary stalker). My only regret is that it took me three attempts to begin Finish.

What’s so amazing about this book and why is it sucking up all my “free time”? (AKA the time I’m not spending getting sucked into Winter Olympics –  was it just me, or did Shaun White’s reaction to his fourth place finish break your heart?). I’ll lot Jon explain: 

“According to studies, 92 percent of New Year’s resolutions fail. You’ve practically got a better shot at getting into Juilliard to become a ballerina than you do at finishing your goals. 

For years, I thought my problem was that I didn’t try hard enough. So I started getting up earlier. I drank enough energy drinks to kill a horse. I hired a life coach and ate more superfoods. Nothing worked, although I did develop a pretty nice eyelid tremor from all the caffeine. It was like my eye was waving at you, very, very quickly. 

Why? Because the sneakiest obstacle to meeting your goals is not laziness, but perfectionism. We’re our own worst critics, and if it looks like we’re not going to do something right, we prefer not to do it at all.” 

That’s right – being a chronic starter does not mean you’re a loser or a failure or anything else your EIC tries to tell you. It means you’re a perfectionist. So am I. I blame Mary Poppins – come on, didn’t every little girl want to be practically perfect in every way? No? Just me then. Ooooohhhhhh –  I wonder if there’s a 12 step program for recovering perfectionists. I could start one. We could have meetings! I’ll bring the brownies! I..oh! Squirrel! Where was I? 

Thanks to Jon Acuff and Brene Brown (The Gifts of Imperfection is equally amazing) I am learning to let go of my perfectionist tendencies. I am also trying to let go of my dream of being Mary Poppins, but it’s hard – not just because she was able to sing, dance and jump into chalk drawings, but because she could clean the house with a snap of her fingers. I’ve tried snapping my fingers, wriggling my nose (a la Samantha Stevens) and singing to squirrels and birds. My house is still messy. I’m hoping that someone invents a self-cleaning house, but scientists seem more interested in developing a flying car. Probably so they can fly away from their messy house.

I have learned that Cosmopolitan lied when they said I could do/have/be it all perfectly. I hope that learning that “good enough” is good enough will allow me to meet my New Year’s Goal of writing on a more consistent basis.

Then again, something is more than nothing.

Have a great weekend and don’t forget to check out the Jamaican Bobsled team!

 

WTH(ormone)?

image courtesy of quotestoremember.com

Good morning, and welcome to Fun with Flags.

Wait, that’s not why we’re here. TBH I’m not sure why we’re here, but I think the answer is 42.

Hello and welcome to Friday! For most of us, Friday marks the end of the workweek/start to the weekend – for my husband, it’s the opposite. Pobrecito starts his workweek on Friday. Sucks to be him. I should be more sympathetic to his plight, but (as he’s always told me) “You know where sympathy sits in the dictionary, don’t you?”*

For the rest of you – Congratulations!! You made it through another crazy week of celebrating/mourning the success/failure of your football team to reach the Superbowl (anyone else thinks the Chiefs, should have settled for 3 points at the end of the first half?), differing opinions on mask mandates,  increasingly frightening news on the “unrest” in the Ukraine, and the answer to the VIQ (Very Important Question) – will he or won’t he? Retire, that is. Yes, conflicting stories and tweets about pouty-boy cheaterpants retirement was at the top of every news story all flipping week.

I don’t know about you, but I had more important questions on my mind:

1. Why is my Christmas tree still in my living room?

Answer: It’s nekkid and waiting for me to get the right size storage box for a fully assembled artificial tree, because I have failed in my attempts to disassemble it and my husband won’t let me use the chainsaw.

2. Why is my daughter’s room such a mess?

Answer: The mother’s curse is real.

3. Why can’t I lose weight

and

4. Why am I so tired during the day but wide awake at 3am?

Answer: Hormones

Hormones are different than whore moans. Whore moans are less costly (have you priced hormone replacement therapy?) and infinitely more entertaining – or at least part of something more pleasant than having wrinkles, pimples and hair falling out of your head and growing out of unusual places.

I consider myself lucky in that my “power surges” don’t send me racing to the freezer in the middle of the night, but I do find myself suffering from wild hormone-fueled super rage (which is why my husband hid the chainsaw).

I’m not sure what god/goddess/universal force decided that menopause was a good idea, but I’m blaming Pandora’s box. Interestingly enough, according to Wikipedia, Pandora’s “box” “was actually a large jar (πίθος pithos) in Greek. Pithoi were used for storage of wine, oil, grain or other provisions, or, ritually, as a container for a human body for burying, from which it was believed souls escaped and necessarily returned. Many scholars see a close analogy between Pandora herself, who was made from clay, and the clay jar which dispenses evils.”

So when is a box not a box?

Answer: When it’s a clay pot, or something associated with moans. 😉

So tell me – what tools do you use in your battle against raging hormones?

*Answer: Between shit and syphallis

TGIM

image courtesy of blossom counseling and wellness, llc

Happy Monday!

You read that right – I said happy Monday. It’s weird, I know – who likes Mondays? Nobody, that’s who. 

Read that again. Nobody likes Mondays (well, maybe someone does, but it’s nobody I know).

I don’t think that Monday is a bad day, she’s just responding to all the hate that comes her way. I mean, really – how would you feel if you knew that everyone hated you? Bitter and bitchy? Pissy? Filled with justifiable anger? No wonder Mondays suck – we should just be grateful that they don’t suck more.

I’m trying to blog on a more consistent basis, but today the words didn’t want to come. How do you find words to write when your brain is

a. emptied by stress

b. full of useless trivia

c. old

d. tired

e. wired on caffeine

f. all of the above

g. none of the above

h. a, b and d through e, but not f&g……

I couldn’t find the words, so I googled “Monday motivation” and came up with 523 million results. One of my favorites came from Certainly Her:

Dear Monday,

Thanks for having the word “mon” in you. That’s French for “mine”, in case you weren’t aware, Monday, but it makes me think of  your more as “my day”, and frankly that sounds like a much more promising start to the week.

If I hate my day, then (as per the transitive law of mathematics) I hate myself, which is why I’m changing my attitude about Mondays. You should too. 

Maybe, just maybe, if we start LIKING Mondays, they won’t suck. 

Fingers crossed. 

 

The F-word

Good morning and welcome to my favorite F-word –

 

In the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that Friday is not the F-word I use most often, but one of my New Year’s Goals is to be less like a drunken sailor and more like a Responsible Adult. No, I don’t know why. and so far I have not been very successful at it. If people could just stop being asshats and play nicely in the sandbox, I might have a better chance at achieving my goal.

But enough about me – it’s Friday, which means it’s time for a Fun Fact (special shoutout to the #factsite for today’s fact):

The English name Friday comes from the Old English Frīġedæġ, meaning “Day of Frige.” This is as a result of the Old English goddess Frigg (an Anglo-Saxon interpretation of the Norse goddess Freya) being associated with the Roman goddess Venus.

Who knew that today is the Day of (the) Frige? Now that I’m working from home, mine is just a few steps away from the office. They say that we’re supposed to get 10,000 steps in/day (no, I still don’t know who “they” are). I’m having a hard time hitting that goal, too. I could spend less time sitting and more time walking to the fridge, but I’m pretty sure that’s what got me into trouble in the first place #covid15.

Have a great weekend everybody, and thank you for tuning in to this week’s episode of Fun Fact Friday!

 

 

 

WFH

image courtesy of dictionary.com

Happy Humpday! Congratulations on making it halfway through the workweek – how is YOURS going?

Mine has been a little bumpy thanks to internet connection issues, a monitor that kept shutting down any time the wind blew (even though I don’t work outside) and a list of Things That Didn’t Get Done because I spent the weekend watching the playoff games instead of…well, doing things (OMG did you WATCH those games? The Rams and 49ers are trying to kill me, I swear!).

Ah, the joys of Working From Home.

I’ve always wanted to work from home. Ok, not ALWAYS – but I’ve been wishing for the opportunity for a while now. Thanks to the pandemic, I got my wish (now I’m wishing for a winning lottery ticket).

I tried it before – my husband thought my being at home meant I could spend the day catching up on the thing being busy parents prevented us from doing….talking, people – geesh y’all got dirty minds! (I love it!).

Our daughter thought my being at home meant I could help her with homework and play Barbies and read books.

My boss thought I should actually be working. My WFH opportunity was cut short by “conflict of interests”.

This time is different.

They say that you should get away from your desk every 30 minutes. No, I don’t know who “they” are, but this article from 2017 tells us that “if you’re sitting all day at work, you should get up every 30 minutes and move to cut your risk of death, a new study is showing.”

Experts will be the death of me. Or at least of my productivity. When I was in the office, I was always getting up – to grab papers from the printer, to drop things in the mail-room, to grab a cup of coffee from the break-room, or to stop by a co-worker’s desk for a quick vent. When I get up from my desk at home, I can’t help but notice that the carpet needs to be vacuumed. A trip to the kitchen to grab coffee reminds me that there are dishes that need doing. My husband and daughter may not be keeping me from being productive, but my house clearly is.

I’m still getting my work done – probably because I’m not getting up to run to the mail-room, the printer, or my co-worker’s desk. The break-room, unfortunately, is closer than ever – and filled with food that’s not good for my waistline. Thanks #Covid15.

So tell me – how is working from home working for you?

On “No” and the Power of Ants, part Duh!

A few months years ago, I blogged about the power of ants, and the danger of C-word.

I’m a bad/non-practicing Jew, but I have friends and family members who are Orthodox/Torah-observant who pray to G-d. Although there isn’t anything in Jewish law against writing out the word, they believe his name is holy/has power, and choose to treat the English version with the same level of respect as the Hebrew equivalents.

I feel the same way about the c-word. C*nt isn’t holy, but the word has power – and I refuse to use it any longer.

What? No, not THAT c-word – I mean, that word is (extremely) offensive, but it wasn’t the c-word I was referring to….

Oops. Color my face red.

I missed an apostrophe. I’m talking about c*n’t, not c*nt. Let me be clear – the c-word I’m referring to is cann*t.

Sorry for the confusion – let’s just agree to call it “c” to avoid further embarrassment. Lower case, to avoid having it confused with “the big C” (I don’t want to use THAT c-word either. Nobody does, which is why people always whisper when they say it). What’s so bad about “c” you ask? As I said in my original post, it’s the filthiest four-letter word I know, which is saying a lot (in case you’re new to my blog, I swear all the time). “‘c’ is a dream killer and soul crusher. It’s the EIC (Evil Inner Critic) run rampant – the voice in your head telling you that you’re too old, too busy, too female, too sleep deprived to take a chance and try something new. The voice that makes you question yourself before you even know that you want to try. The voice that sounds like you, whispering the dreaded “what if” in your ear. “What if I fail? What if people laugh? What if I hurt myself?” The EIC is a liar, and he/she will use the n-word and the c-word and anything with not in it to prevent you from achieving your goals.”

I know what you’re thinking – haven’t we talked about this already? Why am I rehashing an old post? Don’t I have anything new to say?

Wait. That’s not you – that’s the EIC. Evidently he didn’t like being called a liar. He’s been quiet for a long time (probably because I haven’t been writing), but he’s back in a big way. I’m letting him have his say, because letting someone speak until they “run out of steam” is just one of the techniques I’ve learned in my mandatory “effective communication” class. He’s the one in red.

I have to admit, he has a point. I have talked about this before.

Repeatedly.

Yes, thank you EIC, I’ve talked about this repeatedly – because it’s important.

To you.

Yes, to me. It’s important to me – but it’s important to other people too (at least I hope it is). I want to know/understand what stops you (not you personally, although I would be interested, if you’d like to share). I want to understand what stops people from pursuing their dreams.

In my pursuit of answers, I started listening to the Hay House You Can Heal Your Life Summit 2022. Full disclosure – I’ve tried listening to their podcasts before. “Tried” being the key word. I am a Full blown Cynic, so I have a hard time believing that the millionaires are offering their programs for free (and many times, they ARE simply plugging their products). I also find it unlikely that any of these one-percenters could relate to the struggles we’re going through.

BUT (yes, it’s a big but)

I was listening to Dr. Wayne Dyer’s episode today. He was talking about his Excuses Begone! paradigm. Some of what he said (ok, a lot most of what he said) is very “new-agey” (as are most of the Hay House episodes). I disagreed with some of this viewpoints, or at least they way he verbalized them. He believed we are all 100% responsible for our trauma – that it’s not the trauma, but our reaction to it and that if “other people didn’t respond to fighting with fear” it’s our fault that we did. I believe that we are not responsible for the traumatic events in our past (blaming the victim is not helpful) but we ARE 100% responsible for our healing. I’m working on mine.

but (smaller but)

He also said that we need to change the way we talk to ourselves (are you listening EIC?). He said that when we talk about something (losing weight, ending addiction, finding/ending a relationship) being “hard” we are MAKING it hard. Not to be too “woo-woo”, but basically G-d/the universe/our higher power always says “yes” – so when you say it will be hard, it becomes so. Dr. Dyer instructs us to change our thinking habits – that when we hear ourselves say “I c*n’t”, we flip it. “I c*n’t afford it” becomes “The money will come” and (in my case) “Finding a traditional publisher is difficult” becomes “The right publisher will love my book”. He reminds us that words have power, and tells of to be mindful of the messages we hold on to. The stories we tell ourselves shape our lives.

Or, to quote my younger self, “The next time the EIC whispers “you can’t”, tell him that there’s an ant in “can’t”, and ants can do amazing things, including lifting ten times their body weight.”

Then get out there and chase those dreams, because they won’t chase you back.

Tell me – what negative message do you need to let go of?

High There

image courtesy of mary janes hq.com

Have you heard the news? Marijuana cures Covid!

That’s a lie. Have you forgotten already? I know I’ve been MIA for a while (well, more than a while in blogging days, less than a while if we’re using football time), but I’ve said it (repeatedly) – I lie, a lot. I can’t help it. I’ve been “telling stories” since I was young. 

According to a recent study by scientists at Oregon State University and Oregon health and Science University, smoking Marijuana won’t keep you safe from the plague Covid19, but hemp compounds appear to be the latest alt-remedy in our fight against Captain Trips.

As reported by multiple agencies including the New York Post, the study indicates that two acids present in hemp (CBGA and CBDA) prevent the virus from replicating. “These cannabinoid acids are abundant in hemp and in many hemp extracts,” said lead author Richard van Breemen of OSU’s Global Hemp Innovation Center. “They are not controlled substances like THC, the psychoactive ingredient in marijuana, and have a good safety profile in humans. And our research showed the hemp compounds were equally effective against variants of SARS-Cov-2.”

Don’t light up just yet. Van Breeman disputes claims that smoking marijuana would have the same results: “The benefit for preventing viral infection of cells must come from cannabinoid acids, which are heat sensitive and must not be smoked, or it would convert them to CBD and so forth,” van Breemen said. “So that wouldn’t work for the antiviral effect.”

Is anyone surprised? The CBD industry is flourishing, with claims that it can be used to treat anxiety, insomnia and chronic pain. A December 2020 article from the Mayo Clinic states that “a prescription cannabidiol (CBD) oil is considered an effective anti-seizure medication.” You heard that right – Epidiolex is being used to treat epilepsy! Scientists are also exploring the benefit s of CBD to treat hepatitis C Kaposi sarcoma and multiple sclerosis.

I have to admit, I’m getting a little tired of wearing a mask to the gym. I’m “of a certain age” and not in the best shape (hey, round is a shape) so breathing during cardio is hard enough. Making it more difficult to breathe gives me yet another excuse to avoid the gym. Popping a pill is definitely preferable – especially one which won’t give me the munchies. I’ve already gained the #Covid15, I don’t need any help.

Look, Cannabis might not bring an end to the pandemic, but I’m glad that scientists are continuing to look for answers. I miss people (which is weird, since I’m not really a people person)

On a lighter note:

So tell me, what weird news do you have for me?