“How would you know? You don’t speak Korean.”

It’s my first time using the new improved editor on WordPress.  I figured I’d better learn it before they decide it’s the only editor.   Meltdown Prevention 101, eh?  M. let me care for Tallulah today (for practice.)  I love having a dog so much.

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I’m looking forward to living with her full-time in the future.  I live across the street from a park connected to another with the bike trails.  (It’s the warm-up portion of my running route.)  It’s also just over 2 miles to the end of the second park and back, which is now my dog walking course.

It took longer than I anticipated, but mostly because there were a lot of feces.  It’s a primarily residential neighborhood, and most people probably walked their dog while half asleep in the dark this morning.  I need these parks to remain dog-friendly, so I picked up all the poop on my route.  (I’m so thankful for Jack Frost.)

I decided it was over-looked accidentally, and my neighbors would do the same for me.  It’s dark most of the time, now.  Fortunately, lots of people put holiday lights on their balcony already, and my display isn’t the most enthusiastic this time; mostly because 3 out of 5 sets of solar string lights didn’t work. 🤪

I got an email from a friend today!  I was afraid it was a friend I lost during The Worst Meltdown of 2017.  Two people emailed me since that horrible time, (when the universe found out I was using social media as if I knew what I was doing, and kicked my ass to the curb with a purpose.)  Both are still my friend.  (!!!)

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I’m going to go ahead and dub it The Miracle of 2017.  I guess silver linings are more impressive than the Doublemint wrappers I claimed.  I’m trying to work out how to tell one of them I’m never going on Twitter again.  (Or anything similar.)  I’m probably going to do a Keynote presentation and send them the link.  (Unless I think of something more efficient first.)

They are the first autistic friend I made on Twitter.  Dammit.  I guess I’m more of a romantic than I’m comfortable admitting.  (I hope that word works platonically, too.)   Okay, I’m going to go because I can tell I’m going to start crying again.  At least they’re happy tears.  My cat, Amelia Bedelia, understands me, so I’m off to rock with her.  Peace.

p.s.  The new WordPress editor is fabulous!

“It’s like I’m Neil Armstrong. I turn around for a sip of Tang and you jump out first.”

I deleted my Twitter account a while ago.  It wasn’t a difficult decision.  The reasons for continuing got beat up by the reasons for not.  I may add a contact page to this blog as a bridge for those who wish to stay in touch.  To me, experiencing Twitter is almost the same as sitting (in the corner) in a huge room filled with people who are all talking at the same time.  It was easier than in person, but not by much.

I’m laughing at myself because I wouldn’t willingly spend so much time sitting in a huge room filled with people talking offline.  First of all, unless there is cake, forget it.  Secondly, it would be a rare event for a short duration, (as long as it takes me to eat the cake, duh.)  Unfortunately, it was like quitting an addiction.  Now that I’m clean, it’s clear it was a bad idea. (Don’t worry, I’m not going to shame everyone else into quitting Twitter and act like Tweeting around me is shortening my lifespan.)

 

M. went to see about a dog at the Humane Society.  (I wanted to accompany him, but Amelia Bedelia won’t allow me to have pets.)  Walking out of the Humane Society without a pet is cruel and unusual. Thus I can’t imagine him returning without a dog.  There are dogs there he can take home for a small fee, and he doesn’t have one. I’m so excited, knowing he could return at any moment.  It’s raining, or else I’d probably be outside waiting (like a person who doesn’t have a puppy.)

I caught up on my show, Better Things, earlier.  I’m still smiling.  I haven’t laughed so hard in some time.  This is a graduate level show (for me.)  Pamela Adlon is doing Tom Hanks level acting.  (This means a good part of the story is conveyed superbly without dialogue.)  There’s no laugh track, which is awesome.  I have to pay attention because while it’s only 28 minutes an episode, it requires about an hour of thinking (after watching).

It’s the first show where I long to have my mom beside me to answer my questions as we watch.  I’m sure some parts fly over my head, but I’m too delighted by how much I do get to be upset.  I want to adopt Frankie.  She’s the new Darlene, only funnier, which is no easy feat.  (She’s nothing like Darlene, aside from being hilarious and adorable.)  I missed some dialogue due to loud sounds outside, so I’m going to watch again on my iPad later.

It’s probably better I watch it alone.  As much as I miss my mom, I recognize the conversations the show evokes should remain in my head.  (Turns out, there are some things I’d rather not discuss with my mom, were it an option.)  I just heard my mom’s voice in my head say, “I’m not your friend, I’m your mom.”  I haven’t heard that one in ages.  😂😂  It used to play along with, “I’m the adult, you’re the child.”  Good times. 🙃

M. must have stopped by the pet store first, as he’s not back with my his our dog yet.  I feel empowered from watching Pamela Adlon’s character politely but firmly refuse to physically greet someone against her will.  I’ll be studying how she did it later.  She did all kinds of fantastic boundary enforcing already this season.  I’m blown away by how much useful information they manage to pack into 28 minutes.

I wish Hollywood would make more movies starring women between ages forty and eighty.  I want to write a letter, but I don’t know who I should address.  I need to see women my age, and older than me, coping with life.  I need to watch them interact with the world while dealing with things like menopause, hormonal imbalances, and relationships/breakups with a significant other.  I want to know how our bodies change during this time, by watching lots of different women aging normally.  I don’t want to see actresses who have personal trainers, a chef, and a plastic surgeon on staff to lie to me.

I want the truth.  I realize this is why I stopped watching TV and movies altogether for months now.  It’s so rarely worth my attention now.  Thank goodness for Better Things.  Take notes, Hollywood.  If you want to continue trading money for entertainment, start making movies that center on real women over forty.  Otherwise, I’ll see ya when the next installment of Star Wars is released. Hm.  Feels too subtle.  Dear Hollywood, mature women in movies = $$$.  Nailed it.  (Pumps fist.)

I once broke up with someone for not offering me pie.

I’m glad tomorrow’s Friday.  I’m happy to be physically back at work, but it’s not been easy.  One of my co-workers has fallen for the Axe cologne nonsense.  I did manage to refrain from telling him he smells like someone who’s trying too hard.  (Plus ten for only thinking it, not saying it.  Yay.)  I moved back into my private cubicle.  I think I’ll release myself from the unreasonable expectation of working within scenting distance of others and remain there.

My mini trampoline was appropriated in my absence.  Someone else has clued in on the joys of speed jogging when frustrated.  I asked him if he knew when he was most likely to need it.  It turned out to be a question he needs a few work days to ponder over.  He’ll let me know next week but will continue using it until then.  I started a new project today, so I’m too excited to be frustrated, anyway.  I have so many ideas, and the client is cool.

I’m going to debug them over the weekend at home.  My cat likes me to carry her when I pace while brainstorming.  I think it’s because I talk to her the whole time.  (It makes thinking out loud more fun.)  M. is on his way home now.  When I was in shutdown mode, he contacted my Prodigy’s mom to make sure they were well after the earthquake.  (She’s fine, as is her fam.)  His initiative awes me. He would have been a good Army officer.  He’s Super Adult Man.  Hm.  Lame superhero name.  I’ll work on it.

I ran before work this morning.  I believe there’s an astonishing number of people who have companion and service animals in my vicinity.  It’s awesome to me because I think everyone needs a companion and/or service animal to cope with being human.  M. is thinking about getting a dog at the humane society.  I told him I’ll love him more if he does.  (I didn’t troubleshoot this comment before I hit send.)  🤦🏽‍♀️

He laughed, then asked what it will mean if he doesn’t get a dog.  Whoops.  I responded with a neutral emoticon because I couldn’t see a way out of that hole in real time.  (Another perk of texting.)  I’m pretty sure I make M. feel intellectually confident.  😂😂😂  Glad to do my part.  I’m off to await his arrival.