Invitations

buggeroff

Hello everyone. 😀 I’d like to welcome all the new readers. For those who have been on this journey with me from day one; thank you for sticking with me.

This has been an incredibly stressful month for me. A friend of 20 years passed away this week, which saddens me because she was such a special person. My migraines and Fibro flares have been completely out of control, which is why I haven’t written much of anything. To add insult to injury, I got hit in the mouth with the pet gate this week (Bottom teeth, right in the front.). I don’t have any bruising, but MAN, it fucking HURTS. I can handle a lot of pain, but my hands, mouth, and feet are three of my “NO” spots for anything lasting more than ten minutes. Here’s hoping it passes soon.

I hadn’t realized it had been so long since I’d written a real post. I cannot convey how nice it is to check in and see messages from some of you simply inquiring as to how I am doing, as a person. Very few people treat me like a real person, so for those of you that have and do, I cannot begin to convey how much that means to me.

cuddle

Happy Full Moon to all my fellow Wiccans! )O(

Tonight is the first night of Passover (Yes, I’m Jewish AND Wiccan. I don’t hide that.). I got a surprising message last night from my cousin, who lives about 30 minutes away, asking if I’d like to join him and his wife for a Seder. He knew it was super-last minute and that I might already have plans, so he was apologizing while asking. I was SO unbelievably touched by the gesture, truly. It is legitimately one of the nicest things an extended family member has done for me in more years than I care to count.

I make no bones about how I feel about the family dynamics in my life. Please do not misconstrue my honesty as being “bitter”. I’m not, but I am honest and sometimes that may seem harsh, but you don’t know these people. Roughly 85% of my biological and extended family members could be on fire in front of me in the next thirty seconds and I wouldn’t get them so much as a glass of water, but the other 15% I actually care about, like, and/or love quite fiercely. If a person isn’t related to me and I consider them family, that is the highest praise I can give you because to me, family SHOULD be everything and they SHOULD be prioritized over bullshit, but that’s me. Not everyone is living life with my ethos.

I am touched by the invite, but I did have to decline. I’ve had a migraine for two weeks, and the Fibro flares intermittently. The last thing I want to do is ruin a holiday for someone else. Some people enjoy Passover. I’m still scarred from the last Seder I had to sit through. It is probably my least favorite holiday, and while I respect the traditions and the meaning behind it all, I choose not to take part when I am sick and need to prioritize my health above all else.

I also have an invite to a feminist Seder Saturday night. I don’t know if I’m going or not just yet. I do worry about this migraine getting worse and being someplace I’ve never been before, especially as I sit here unable to sleep. As other migraineurs know, it is often better to be sick at home, even if you’re miserable about it, then to be sick somewhere else and not have everything you need within reach. Imagine showing up to a stranger’s house with ice packs, a heating pad, essential oils, pillows, medication, etc., demanding that they all be quiet because you have a migraine and cannot tolerate noise on a good day, leave alone during a full-blown migraine. I do NOT want to explain that to people I don’t know, and I really don’t care to explain it to people I do know, but lately I keep getting asked the same questions over and over. Ultimately I’m going to say this: I don’t ever use my migraines as an excuse NOT to do something if I am well enough to do it, so if anyone insinuates that, they deserve a good smack upside the head. I’ve never used Fibromyalgia as an excuse either. If I am too sick, I simply make that known. If a person cannot see how badly I am struggling and suffering each day, then I refuse to explain it as if they’re deaf, dumb, blind, and mute.

I openly admit I’m sick of spending my days with the cats. On top of being allergic (I’ve been allergic even to my own cats for probably ten years, if not longer), it makes me feel like I have no time for myself. Cat and Kitten are such Mama’s Girls. They are almost fully integrated into the house. This week has been one of great progress. Whenever I’ve been working, researching, reading, or resting, I will check on them and find one in the picture window baking in the sun, another might be hanging out with me or asleep in her own bed, and OGK is either sound asleep in his bed or sprawled on the living room rug, also baking in a sun beam. But as the day progresses and his blood sugar drops, he loses patience for them and will sometimes get a little nasty and/or aggressive. It’s only happened a few times this week, but his medication appears to be helping him and that’s a good sign. He’s gained some weight, he’s smacking me less, is being sweet at times, but he still insists on waking me nightly. He stands next to the bed and screeches as loudly as possible, and like an idiot, I get up and do whatever he wants, regardless of how much sleep I have or have not gotten.

I’m pre-programmed to respond to three things in the middle of the night: An intruder that needs to be taught a lesson, a baby crying, and a cat crying. Some cats mimic the cry of a baby and as a woman, I’m biologically programmed to respond to that. I’m the woman in pretty much any store (Walmart, Target, any mall I happen to be in…) shushing crying babies while their mothers ignore them and keep on shopping. It drives me insane and makes me want to call CPS on them. If your child is screaming, there’s a reason, so respond. <End of rant>

OGK is willing to auction me off to the highest bidder. His demands include two large ocean-caught salmon, filleted and deboned, and five cooked chicken breasts, cut into tiny pieces. I’m pretty sure there’s a sign on the front door for the cats of the neighborhood that says “Trained Human For Sale”. Every day he looks at me with these gorgeous green eyes (You will legitimately NEVER see green eyes like this on a human-being unless they’re colored contacts and even then, they’ll look fake.), huffs out a sigh, and thinks “Ugh, she’s STILL here. How do I get rid of her?” If there was a kitty Craigslist, which I highly believe would be called Morris’ List, I’d be sold to the highest bidder in a New York Minute. He’s sick of me, until he’s hungry or thirsty and then he can’t wait to find this wonderfully trained human who’s at his beck and call. That’s me: The Beck & Call Girl. Feel free to let people know that. LOL. (Sorry Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa, but it’s a rich line and I can’t afford not to use it.).

So my lovelies, this is me checking in with all of you. More to come soon. I hope you all have an amazing weekend.

lisa1

copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Friday: The Dark Artifice

takeallthetimeyouneed

I woke up far too early this morning to a dark, grey day. Normally that wouldn’t bother me (it rarely does), but it’s the fact that the weekend is hanging over my head…the artifice of it darkening my mood.

Under normal circumstances the weekend is a dear friend I welcome with open arms, but it isn’t at the moment. The weekends are now Loki; the trickster. Instead of being able to enjoy them, because who doesn’t enjoy Tom Hiddleston (I would usually say it’s the accent, but the truth is, I find him charming as a human-being.), I am almost certain to contemplate purchasing rope, and not for Fifty Shades of Grey type activities. More’s the pity.

I miss Cat and Kitten. They are my constant companions, the only two ‘little people’ who’d notice if I went missing. I don’t get to spend any time with them. Last night, while in the process of feeding them, OGK came creeping up the stairs and refused to heed the warning Kitten gave him with her baby hiss. It was a non-threatening “Back off!” kind of hiss. If you hadn’t been standing in front of her, you wouldn’t have heard it. Instead of realizing he wasn’t welcome at the moment, he took it as a challenge, as he always does. Thankfully I blocked his little stampede and herded him down the stairs away to diffuse potential drama. I’d plugged the Feliway diffuser downstairs earlier on in the evening to try and help keep him calm (It already helped diffuse the tension the girls experienced from the move.) and maybe allow him to adapt, but so far, no dice. Next step: A baby gate. The girls can jump over it with ease, they have a lot of energy, especially the little one (who I am sad to say, is no longer little. She’s actually taller than all three cats. I often wonder if she’s part hybrid. I’ll never know unless her new vet mentions it.). So, I’ve come to the conclusion that once I clip their nails this weekend, I’m not going to baby OGK any more. It’s been nearly a full month and I can’t allow this to go on any longer. It’s stressing me out and making me sick. He needs to adjust. The Feliway diffuser will help, but there’s no way it will do anything if the girls remain behind closed doors 23 hours a day. I didn’t adopt them to keep them locked away. That’s no way for any animal to live. Perhaps next week, progress will be made. It’s exhausting, to say the least.

Sadly, I’m already exhausted enough. Between the migraines, smacking the back of my head into the wall this week (an accident on my part, as I am not used to being that close to a wall), and the bitter cold causing my body to go into varying degrees of Fibro flares, I’m not very pleasant to be around. That’s okay though because there’s no one here to listen to what I have to say. My life could easily be a reality show: “Three Cats & A Kitchen Knife”. Because unless I am caring for them, writing, or in absolute agony, I am probably chopping vegetables and making something. My cousin thinks I should become a “celebrity chef”. I disagree. The thought of making tasteless food for egos the size of Russia is not something I could ever become accustomed to, unless it came with a seven-figure salary. I bristle when someone says “Don’t put any salt into that.” I am a traditionalist. The only salt you will see me use is kosher salt or sea salt. I don’t buy anything else and I will not use anything else in the cooking process. I’ll be damned if I put something tasteless on the table for anyone. It’s an immense pet peeve of mine.

This past week I learned that there are a few words I NEVER want to see on an item I spent nearly $5 on and that is: Hearty Minestrone Soup: VEGAN. My percentage of Italian blood boiled, wondering what psycho came up with that idea. Trader Joe’s, you’re damn lucky it didn’t taste like crap or I would have gone after one of your cheerful employees this weekend upon returning. Of course now, I don’t trust them and will be obsessively reading labels in the store, thus adding a good hour to my grocery shopping time from here on in. I will keep the vegan concept in mind for my few vegan obsessed friends, but in the future I want all of my groceries to be marked “We didn’t screw with it, Lisa!” That’s right, I want a special section with my name on it for things I buy weekly. Thus far, only Polar Seltzer has received the memo. Kudos to the Vanilla Pear. 🙂 The only holiday flavor I was able to find was Blackberry Apple and it was good, but it wasn’t stellar. C’est la vie.

I am torn between desperately wanting a nap and trying to organize a few things for the weekend. Oh screw it! I’ve already done 95% of what’s on the list, I’m allowed a two hour migraine-induced nap.

As I attempt to recover in order to embark on my Loki-filled weekend, I wish everyone a weekend full of happiness and productivity. Here’s hoping no one has to hear about me on the news. I can’t promise I’ll behave or be very nice though. In fact, I might take up hissing myself. I already hiss at the next door neighbor’s dog because she viciously barks at me. Now while she does bark at everyone, she liked Patient X just fine as soon as he tossed her a few Milk Bones. I refuse to succumb to her pleading for treats. I may be a trained human for cats, but uncivilized dogs can kiss my ass!

fibro1

copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

P.S. My eye is better.