I can’t stand doing laundry. That’s why I have forty pairs of underwear.

I’m excited to be going to Mexico City next week.  I haven’t been to Mexico since the 90’s.  I spent a lot of time in Ciudad Juarez when I was stationed in El Paso.  It’s where I got drunk the first time (in my life) on tequila slammers, then couldn’t remember the name of my country when we crossed the border back into the USA.  (The street was named Avenue of the Americas, but I was too focused on walking.)  I got back to the barracks safely but swore off tequila for life during PT the next morning.

I’m excited to go, but also nervous, as I’m meeting the parents of my prodigy, too.  M. tried to talk me into waiting until he has time to go with me, but he just used up all his vacation for his parents’ visit.  I said goodbye to his family yesterday and they flew out today.  S. was bummed, but she’ll hopefully come back for the wedding.  Shit.  I just had a surge of anxiety from typing that.  (Has second thoughts for the third time today alone.)  This isn’t the kind of fear I’m used to.  My usual strategy of running toward fear (to get it over with) doesn’t fit.

At least he’s agreed to wait for a while.  On to a new, less stressful topic.  It stormed today so no eclipse here.  I’m excited Will and Grace will start airing in the fall.  It’s been years since I watched NBC.  I don’t watch the original networks at all, normally.  If the show is good, I buy it by season.  I finished watching Moana.  I loved it.  I love the soundtrack, too.  I’m going to study American Samoan culture and find out how much was based on reality, (if any.)  I like reading about the folklore of other cultures.

We got a new statue in South Dakota (Chamberlain) titled, Dignity.

I love it.  She’s 50-feet tall.  I’ll be visiting her soon because I have to touch her and marvel.  Most people take photos of cool things.  I touch things and stare until I can close my eyes and conjure it in detail.  Now there are two reasons to visit South Dakota.  The Crazy Horse monument and Dignity.  Yay.  Deadwood is a horrible disappointment aside from Calamity Jane’s gravesite.  (The stoned presidents are a travesty.)  I don’t work for the state tourism industry, in case it wasn’t obvious.  🤣

The VA frustrates me so much.  I got my eyes examined last November.  I still haven’t gotten my new glasses.  The prescription expires in November.  I’ve gone three times (so far) to find the person who orders frames was on break or at lunch.  I space out my attempts so I don’t lose it in the waiting room and start bawling out of frustration.  I noticed a few other veterans tweeting at our House Representative, asking her to help.  She ignores them.  She tweets regularly but doesn’t respond to anything.  It’s something I despise about South Dakota.  We have no representation.  It sucks.

I’m going to write some scathing Letters to the Editor for our local newspaper at strategic times to let my neighbors know they all three have to go, and why.  Fucking GOP.  Putting party before country should cause a raging case of Herpes, dammit.  (I’m probably cranky from not sleeping last night.)  Every time I lay down, I had to get up to pee.  After the fifth time, I said fuck it and got up to work on my quilt.  It was bizarre and so annoying.  My body is doing weird shit lately.  This morning I found a hair on my cheek that was an inch long.  What the actual fuck?  It’s possible it was a cat hair stuck to my face by drool, but I don’t think so.  I think it grew out of my cheek and got that long before I noticed.  (I plucked it.)

You can call me Al instead of Alison now since I’m growing a fucking beard on my left cheek.  I’m going to name it Nigel.  Nigel the weird beard.  It’s possible this is a hormonal reaction to quitting Prozac.  I told M. earlier, “Thank goodness you promised to marry me before I started growing this hair out of my cheek, or I’d surely die alone.”  (He rarely gets my jokes, but I laughed for both of us.)  I’m off to read.