It’s a complex world out there. You got to be vigilant. Take care of yourself.
This isn’t about me. This is about women and vaginal infections.
My wife related a Reddit story. A woman had a vaginal infection. She went to the doctor numerous times. Antibiotics were always prescribed. They always failed.
She suspected her underwear and shifted. New materials and styles were tried. Nothing. So she went commando. Nothing.
Sugar was removed from her diet, along with other foods. Nothing.
Her boyfriend didn’t have a rash. The two abstained from sex, in case it was something from him. No change.
Finally, she stumbled onto a Reddit post where thousands of women had reported the same struggle. The answer: toilet paper. She changed brands and the problem disappeared.
Sometimes it’s the most mundane and overlooked aspect of life. The edgier lesson was that in all of these thousands of stories from women, no doctor ever suggested, “Change your toilet paper.”
Dan K over at Daily Kos offers some thoughts on the past election in Short Attention Span Theater. Like me, he believes the problem wasn’t Democratic messaging; it’s voter ignorance.
As stated, that’s my take. Along with declining education and voter apathy and ignorance, I blame mass media and many organizations. For instance, AARP issued a news letter before the election that put forth what Harris and that other guy said about ‘the issues’. Nowhere did they mention the other guy’s bizarre, often demented behavior and speeches, nor his multiple gaffes and lies. No, to them, Harris and Trump were equals battling it out. Shame on them.
As an aside, now AARP’s newsletter urges everyone to contact their elected Federal officials about protecting social security and Medicare. Yeah, should of thought about that before you chickened out of putting forth a position. You reap what you sow.
Within Dan K’s post, he refers to David French’s piece in the NYT with links, “Donald [X] Is Already Starting to Fail”.
Mood: Weathicipation (when you’re awaiting a weather event)
Got my “Death Before Decaf” filled with hot black java, ready to fight off the forces of sloth, lethargy, and fascism.
It’s Tuesday, November 19, 2024. Cloudy and 39 F. Light rain and a high of 43 F is expected. Also expected is a bomb cyclone. (I’d just call it a bomclone. But that’s me.) It’s expected to bring high winds and heavy rain to our area. Thing is, our location in the pinched end of a valley sometimes protects us from these things. Fingers crossed.
Have to pause to just say that Rep. Mike Johnson, R-Bullshit, is maintaining the MAGAt tradition of lies and hypocrisy. This devout Christian is earnestly protecting ex-rep Matt Gaetz, R-Gag. MiJo claims that MaGag is a private citizen. Therefore, the ethics report on him should not be released. Apparently, to MiJo, it’s not important what an ethics investigation paid for by WTP discovered about MaGag’s behavior and ethics. No matter your politics, WTP should be outraged. We have a right to know. We paid for it and MaGag was supposed to be working on our behalf, representing our nation and our values. But that’s classic MAGAt BAU. Lie, cheat, obsfucate. Point of order brought out by others, plenty o’precedence exists for releasing the MiGag ethics report. As a final f’instance, Hunter Biden‘s status as a private citizen meant nothing to MiJo. It’s the ol’ GOP double standard, and it’s putting off an unholy reek on Capitol Hill these days.
With thoughts of a bomclone bearing down, The Neurons threw songs with ‘bomb’ in the title into the morning mental music stream (Trademark flooding) mix. While the Gap Band was representing, the Runaways overpowered it with “Cherry Bomb”. The all-female rock group released the song in 1976. It did okay, nothing great, but its driving beat and inherent attitude has gotten it a place in movies and television shows. So you might not have heard it when it was riding the airwaves but you may have caught it in other media.
One of several favorable impression I have about WordPress is, they respond fast. Once something broken is uncovered, it’s been my experience that they fix it fast. I really do appreciate that about them.
In this case, it’s about the ability to add tags. Just a few days ago, the bug appeared in my blogging attempts. It was still there this morning. Bang, gone now.
Hurrah for WordPress. Wish more companies were as prompt and responsive.
Monday began with my wife’s comment. “If you think yesterday was crappy, wait until you see today. It’s crappier.”
“Why?”
“Cold fog and rain all around us. There’s no sun at all.”
It’s November 17, 2024. Thanksgiving in the U.S. is just a lick away as fall’s descent toward winter continues. 35 F now, it feels like 42 they tell us, but the day’s high will be 36 F. Hope it can feel like 60.
Voting with their legs, the cats agreed with my wife’s assessment. Papi went on exploratory runs but soon returned, pounding on the front door glass. A trip to the refueling station followed, and then it was off to sleep out the day.
I’m close to doing the same. Foot/ankle much better, just twinges and spikes of pain and discomfort, with brief squalls of swelling.
“Still Alive and Well” had been voted in by The Neurons as today’s theme music. The ’73 Johnny Winters song was on a live album I enjoyed as a budding young adult and has housed itself in my morning mental music stream (Trademark still streaming).
Coffee has been ingested. Be strong, get positive, hold fast. Here we go.
Being laid up seemed to lure flocks of dreams. An early one was about cars. I often dream of cars so this isn’t something overly remarkable.
The featured car was one from my life, a 1985 Mazda RX-7 GLE SE. We bought it new on returning to the US from Okinawa. My wife went along with the purchase even though a two-seat sports car isn’t practical and the insurance was hefty for a 29 year old driver. My wife didn’t drive it as she didn’t like driving manuals. Wasn’t comfortable. But we had fun in the car.
Dream me could have been lifted from a photo of the period. So there I am, driving the car. I pull up to a long, wide table. Blonde wood with a silver metal edge all around. I reach down along the long table. Almost magically — or maybe I just overlooked it — I have a black cord in my right hand. A small black connection is available. It’s like the monolith at the beginning of 2001: A Space Odyssey.
I connect it to charge my car. Charging is done in nothing minus one second. I disconnect the cable and move back to my car. As I do, I hear a man speak. He asks, “Why is he taking my energy? He doesn’t need my energy. He has his own. And he can make more.”
I knew he was talking about me. Another began defending me.
I waved them off. “No, no, he’s right. I can generate my own energy. That’s what I’ll do.”
Bit of a darkly mood today. Overdid it with my ankle, pressing to get better. It told me in manners aligned with surgery and lack of use over a few weeks that it didn’t appreciate what I was doing. So now, resigned to slowing down, taking my time. This is one of those situations where a strength becomes a weakness. My strength is a high tolerance to pain and discomfort, and an ability to ignore or overcome them without meds. Doing so with this ankle is clearly screwing up my recovery. With my wife’s *ahem* coaxing, I’m cooling it.
It’s a bleak day out there. Leaves have abandoned the trees and are drunkenly sprawled over the land. Dipped to 30 F for an overnight low. Sluggish sunshine is barely overcoming the cloud wall sealing in the valley in gray and black. Showers and a high of 42 F is on the charts. We’ve been having days of rain. Some has been solid and heavy. Okay, cuz we need rain to refill everything and soothe the earth. More important is snow. Necessary to bank on for the dry, hot months, snow is beginning to gather on the higher mountains.
Hmmm: interesting book title: “The Gathering of Snow”. All kinds of inherent possibilities.
The cats are slowly coming to claws with recognition that the season has shifted into a colder and wetter period. Less demands to let ’em out are noted. Both prefer cozying up at a warm indoor spot over darting back outside. That pleases me; rather have them in. Nurse Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) still hovers over me, sleeping alongside me as I nurse myself back to full functioning.
With convalescence going and a lot of time to think, The Neurons took trips into memories of other injuries, illnesses, sicknesses, and being laid up. Has happened a lot. Started as a child and hasn’t let up. That slowly opened the door for “Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper to pop into the morning mental music stream (Trademark repeating). Other than my thoughts about being in recovery time after time, nothing in the 1983 song relates to my situation. Doesn’t stop Der Neurons! It’s an enjoyable song in my estimate about romance, missing a loved one, waiting while enduring their absence.
Let’s get positive, and hold fast. Here we go, another day in the life of. Coffee has been procured and is being consumed. I am at the laptop, foot propped up on a chair, black and white cat snoozing on the floor beside me.
Here is a disturbing but unvetted anecdote culled from social media.
I found this an interesting sign of the decline of USPS. I picked up a customers late payment yesterday from her home. She had mailed it and the post office returned it marked unable to deliver. I took it in to the post office. The fellow at the counter said a lot of the employees can’t read cursive! No other reason that he knew of for the return. Since it was to a PO box and the zip was clearly there, I’d say problem solving skills were non existent as well.
Well, shoot. Several possible solutions exist. Wonder what will happen, if anything? I suspect it’ll reach a point where the DeJoy postal system decrees that bans cursive. That’s the kind of non-empathetic ‘problem solver’ he is.
Chilly. Cold. Bleak as the moors below shifting dark clouds and undependable sunshine. Real stay in and have some hot food weather, if you can.
It’s 41 F and won’t get much warmer. The damp hand delivers a new chilly flavor. Fall — autumn, if you prefer — has a two-handed hold on Ashlandia.
Pause. Let me tell you. I was most disturbed to see Trump carried my county by seven points. Like, WTF, over? Distrust of my fellow local citizens is hepped up. I don’t know what you people are thinking goes through my mind as I consider strangers and workers. You might be one of those leaning to an authoritarian state. How can I ever trust you again?
While we were talking about the 2024 election results and its impact on American values, mores, and norms, my wife brought up some history. She reminded me of the fifties and sixties in the U.S., and how many women were self-medicating to cope. Would that be repeated in this new MAGA era?
Part of that conversation impelled me into territory about how it was so widespread, it was recognized as part of popular culture in books, movies, and songs. “The Graduate.” “Mother’s Little Helper.” “Valley of the Dolls.” “Rabbit, Run.”
It’s the latter that flashes through the morning mental music stream (Trademark endangered). The Neurons have always liked the Rolling Stones’ song about pills being abused.
Here we go, another day. One step after another. Regrouping. Moving on, pressing on.
Yes, I have had coffee today. The first in over two weeks. Good to have my old friend back in my system.
Michael Seidel, writer 