My momma and her bestie

Mom is on the left, her dear friend is on the right.  Mom’s been gone 19 years, her friend just a matter of days.  Life is short. My heart hurts.  I wanted them both to live forever.  And maybe they will … in our memories.  Forever in our hearts. Gone but not forgotten. 
As always, more to come. 

Squirrel.  No wait. Metallica.  

In the middle of my mini nervous breakdown during my lunch break, I got the presale alert email for Metallica.  

I was trying to score tickets off my phone but no such luck.  I kept fumbling around.   I did find some special experience stuff and then general admission (GA).  Well the special experience was $875.  And we’re too old for GA. 

I went back upstairs to fill in the Crew … about how I missed out.  The presale started at 10 … yada, yada boo hoo. And one special friend becomes the voice of reason.  Thank you to … you know who you are 😂.  

Score!  Plaza level.  Sweet seats for me and Billy Bob.  We’ll be reliving our youth. Aaaaahhhh.  This time the scream is a good one. 

As always, more to come!

Stress Kills


Now I feel better.  Sort of, kind of, not really.  Blah!

My thoughts are a whirlwind.  Lulu is wigging out about her Chem grade to a point of becoming physically sick.  I get it.  That was me many moons ago.  Be it grades or some other such nonsense.  I was the epitome of sweating the small stuff.  Worrier extraordinaire.  I’m much better these days. I have a handle on most if not all of my triggers.  I wish I could help her. But unfortunately, no one can do it for you.

I learned that to tell her to calm down doesn’t help.  When people tell you things like “just get over it” or “get a grip” they have truly no idea how some mental things manifest as physical.  The rapid heartbeat, the shortness of breath, the nausea.  In the moment, those can be beyond one’s control. 

Meanwhile I’m having similar thoughts and similar feelings.  Yes I could go into a corner and just start shaking.  I said I was better … not cured. The short of it is this, when my baby hurts, I hurt for her.   

One step at a time though.  Walking helps … music helps … screaming aaaaaahhhhhh helps.  

I’m sitting here telling myself whatever happens is what’s supposed to happen and how horrible could it possibly be?   And if it is horrible, then just deal with it when it becomes something real.  I think I can I think I can I think I can. 

As always, more to come.