Random, not magic, beans

Don't panic, or get too excited for that matter, as I am not going to ask you to guess how many jelly beans are in this jar. Therefore, there is also no prize. Well, I mean there sort of is for me because I have all of these jelly beans.

The other night, my husband and I were sitting on the couch, eating from the jar. (We are not savages, we pour, as opposed to reaching in. I tell you this in the event that you stop by and we offer you a snack, so you can confidently accept.) I declared that Jelly Bellys are an interesting candy. I could tell that the look on Ken's face was less sugar rush, for sure, than intrigue about whatever fascinating proclamation was going to come out of his wife's mouth next. I gave him a brief synopsis of my thought process. He responded that it could be a blog post. I am not really sure if that statement was an attempt to keep me from discussing my thesis further with him or if he truly felt a fluff piece on sweets was what this blog needed. Either way, this post is his fault doing.

Typically when you eat candy, it is because it is delicious and you want more of the same. A handful of peanut M&Ms for example...delightful, let me keep eating this handful. Hershey kisses? My Aunt Olga said they tasted better if you put several in your mouth at once. Red licorice? (Twizzler, not Red Vine - I'm not sorry I said it!) Yes, please. More, please. Regular old jellybeans don't have that many colors in the bag, so you can just eat whatever flavor you like best. (There are barely enforced rules against doing this in our house.) An assorted bag of Jelly Bellys though? That is an entirely different matter.

First of all, do you even see two of the same color? Speaking of color, check out that mutant blue on the right! Sure there are some yellow, but the shades rival Glidden paint swatches in number! It is a brain teaser for me to have this treat. I just ate a delicious pink one, but can I find another one just like it, do I even remember what it looked like, was there a slight speckle? Do I live on the edge and hope that dark bean is actually the deep purple grape, or do I cast it aside in case it is black licorice. Ken doesn't like to take his chances with the marbled whitish yellows for fear he will get a buttered popcorn, so he passes them to me. Not my favorite, but they just sort of blow my mind with the flavor versus texture dichotomy.

I like to try to have my last few bites be my faves like pear, bubblegum or cotton candy, but those can be elusive and disguised as lesser offerings. I also like to try to end with cinnamon because it keeps me from getting another handful. (Think orange juice after toothpaste.) The reds are worse than the yellows though! Often I will take a small nibble to ensure that I plan my final selections appropriately for my palate. I was bamboozled by a cherry posing as something more spicy on my last go around. Suffice to say, I might stand just a little bit better luck if I didn't examine my handful with just the glow of nighttime television as lighting.

There is a bit of a "Violet, you're turning Violet" feeling when it comes to some of the flavor punches Jelly Bellys provide. (The above referenced buttered popcrn, for example.) I am in awe of however the mixologists do it! Move over Dippin' Dots as I think the future will really be meal beans containing all of the nourishment I need with hyper realistic flavors. Ideally the meals would consist of maybe five menu items, but with a handful of each. I have zero interest in just one bite of anything.

I had to shake the jar because that blue one just  looked so strange and poorly photoshopped.

I think I see three strawberry jam ones there. Ok, I'm headed off to let Ken know how grateful you are that he encouraged me to share this with you! I am so glad you're here, but now go and treat yourself!

It's fine. I'm fine. Everything is fine.

"How are you?" You've asked that more times than you can count, with varying levels of concern about the answer. How many times a day, when you've actually braved leaving the house, are you asked the same? 

I'm not sure if we should count the number of times someone says "What's up?" and we answer "Good!" Often I find myself on a slight delay with my response as I spin the wheel of current situations I'm in, despite knowing full well that I am going to say something positive, or at the very least a positive adjacent, despite sarcastic, "Living the dream!"

This is not to suggest that I am embarking on a campaign to stop friendly banter. Instead, this is a warning that I'm about to tell you how, and maybe even why and what, I am.

HOW? I'm trying! Or wait, is that WHAT I'm doing? In the grand scheme of things, I'm good. I guess I am a few other things too - warm, anxious, tired and more likely than not, hungry.

WHAT? I am trying. Trying to do the things ... taking the walks, drinking the water, eating the protein, talking to whatever poor souls are within earshot, volunteering and spending time with the people who bring me joy. I am also cheerleading as the self-appointed one woman pep squad in this house. It seemed like we needed one and I saw no other names on the sign-up sheet. 

I take this role seriously. My main objectives for the past few months have been to do verbal wellness checks on my husband more times than either of us probably think is necessary. I also assume that he'd rather not be alone anymore when I get home from work, so I approach him like our kids did when they were small with a lot of questions as to whether he'd like to play a game, go for a walk, take a bike ride, or go to Target. I was trying not to read my books or write my little blog posts because I wanted to appear eager to engage. 

WHY? Well now here is where we take things to another level beyond grocery store produce section banter. 

I'm good because I am upright and have people in my world who bring me love and joy (so maybe I'm actually great).

I am warm because this summer has brought above-normal temperatures and my body is igniting from within with hot flashes. Basically, at any point, I feel like I am walking a mere two degrees away from bursting into flames.

I am anxious, despite my anti-anxiety meds and my reluctance to increase the dose (which we can talk about another time), because I occasionally catch a news story, my husband has been out of work and searching for new employment for six months now and ... seriously, do I need to conjure more? 

Tired? Is anybody not? My pompoms are wearing down to straggly ribbons.

And hungry? I mean I could eat a cookie or some chips ... ooooh, or a donut.

Well that was a loaded question, that you didn't acually ask, so how's about we wrap things up here for today?

You better shop around

"Try to get yourself a bargain girl, don't you be sold on the very first one!" Okay, so before I could even get started, I've distracted myself! I was trying to come up with a title, then I started singing, then I thought you might like singing, and then I remembered that Toni and Daryl were not the original singers. I wonderd if that would bother you to hear their version; however, I simply could not deny my prepubescent love for them and how quikcly it floods back! I looked at a variety of videos, but for the number of hours I spent staring at this album cover, while holding the lyric sheet in my hands, longing for the day I would meet my own Captain, it had to be this. Obviously, then I had to pause for a moment of silence after seeing the muskrat love in their eyes as I was reminded that they split up! Basically, it's been a journey and I haven't even gotten started yet!

So a friend of mine and I were trying to decide what to do with ourselves the other day. There was a risk of melting if we ignored the heat advisory, so we knew we should plan to seek solace in the well conditioned air of somewhere. I am not exactly sure why we were so jammed up about constructing a plan, as we know how fast we can go off the rails and I also know one of my favorite things for us to do together is nothing in particular. I had a return to do at Target, so that is where we unleashed ourselves first. I have walked into Target before, made a return and walked right back out, but those are sad days. 

Maybe I was still feeling the effects of the heat when I strayed too close and lingered too long near a sports bra. She caught me. I heard myself saying I actually needed a sports bra as the gravitational pull led us deeper into a department of the store my daily mental health walk might not give me adequate reason to be in. She suggested a fitting room once my gaze had landed on a particular nylon/spandex blend. I refused, as that was far too much effort for something that would let me down and be ill-fitting anyway. 

Did somebody say "sporty"?

I want to act like the most troubling part of this next one is my belly showing...

...or that I almost had to go find a pair of cheaters to be able to do the hook and eye meant for initial harnessing before getting to the zipper. Oh, that zipper...

...it was no ordinary zipper - very temperamental when not engaged properly to start. So there I was, in the athletic department of Target, not even in good enough shape to effectively wrestle myself out of a bra. 

The best kind of friendships, in my opinion, are the ones where a friend takes some video footage before helping. I mean that sincerely. I was fairly certain I was going to have to do a next level walk of shame to the register and just buy the damn thing. Luckily, with two more hands, who had put their phone away, we were able to scooch that beast on down, but not without it catching on the phone in my back pocket and nearly taking my shorts with it!

I bought the black bra for $30 if you must know, but then we went to Marshall's. I suffered a bit of defeat in the everyday bra selections, not aided at all by the fact that we truly cannot figure out what size I should pretend fits. I found a two pack of bras, similar to the one I had already purchased, for $17. I really would pay more money for a decent fit, but am so used to being let down (pardon the pun) that I always look for the bargain option. My friend talked me into using a dressing room where I was puzzled to find that not only were the two bras hooked to each other, but the one's straps were tethered to the hanger! How on earth was I to Houdini my way into that situation? I had no choice but to break some plastic, and they live in my closet now anyway. Sorry, Bullseye for yet another return, but I'm sure you've still come out way ahead!

I’m baaaaaack (and so are they)

Where have I been, you might be asking? Seriously though, you probably stopped wondering that a few months ago. Once again, I don't have any reasons for not being here that adequately explain hiding from doing this thing that I love. I was not on a book tour, so if you had that guess in the pool, I apologize for your loss and hope you didn't bet much.

A couple of weeks ago, my husband and I were talking over dinner. (We have to do that now to drown out the silence of our empty nest.) When I was done yammering on about whatever my chosen topic was for the evening - you know something like complaints pair well with tacos, hot takes go with poultry and general updates are best with Italian - my husband said "That could all be a blog topic!" While I agreed with him, I also moaned about the fact that I would have to write it, which also meant I would have to slow my spiraling, possibly even sit down to do so...and I didn't.

Instead of getting my writing act back together, I opted for doing some reading. Not sure why reading and writing are mutually exclusive in my mind, nor when some of my favorite pasttimes became such a chore for me. Maybe we can delve into that another time. Sheesh!

So what's the scoop? Need a hint? How about SWOOP? Last week I was admiring one of the floral plantings on our front porch when I noticed some bird poop on the ridge of the pot. I don't want to sound like a complete lunatic, but I had an inkling that his particular poop looked familiar. I did not want to set off any alarms, or believe the suspicion I had, so I just sort of spun the planter around. Problem solved.

There we were, relaxing on the porch yesterday, when something swooped past the corner of the porch, the very same corner where those flowers I had been admiring happen to be. Oh. No. He/She flew around, but did not fly away. Nope, just sort of darted around to tell the friends who were waiting up on the edge of the roof. I acted far too quickly to get a photo for you! I flung my book down, after carefully placing my bookmark obviously, and grabbed the roll of tin foil from the cabinet on the porch. (Yes, I keep it right there for emergencies.) It was go time! We may have been spared last year, but those birds just cannot quit us.

UGH!

It's just so unattractive! At least during this phase it can't really be seen from the road. The neighbors knew though, I know they saw me on that ladder waving my foil around and knew it was officially spring. Of course the wind has kicked up a few times since yesterday afternoon which threatens to tear the thin tin from my hastily jabbed push pins. That is when things get really ugly with flapping and aluminum crinkling sounds, but you know what we don't have? The swoopers and poopers.

I feel like I should mention how much we enjoy birdwatching, and our (ok, my) ire is directed at this one specific type of bird. Well, actually, right now my husband is feeling rather antagonistic towards the European starlings that keep devouring the bird seed he is trying to feed more glamorous birds. Speaking of more glamorous birds, here are just a couple of screenshots of the Merlin app telling us what birds we were hearing on our encounters with nature...

                                     

...we saw robins and red-winged blackbirds. That is all! My birding friend told me that she sees 10% of what she hears, but I don't think we are even doing close to that well. I just wasn't prepared for this level of defeat when I downoaded the app. Before now I could pretend that I was just hearing one or two birds with different "voices." Obviously the barn swallows were trying deperately to fill a void they sensed we had. They also must have gotten word that we had a surplus of tin foil! They are so damn creepy.

New Year, New Chapter!

So I made that comeback last month, and I had this plan for us to reaquaint ourselves and THEN I would tell you my big news. It was a great plan, until I almost forgot to check back in with the news! Apparently we celebrated holidays and started a new year since my last post. Those things may all be correlated.

I'm not positive who still comes around to visit here, and realize that my news may not be actual news to any of you...LOL! We can talk about it a little bit though and I will try to keep it interesting. After almost four years of fits and starts, of desperately wanting to have something done, but fighting with myself to make it happen...

...I was uploading my book onto a self-publishing website (and nearly vomiting)...

...offical sounding words like "manuscript" and "final" and boxes to check (more feelings of nauseau)...

...and it was done!

The few months leading up to that day in early November when my friend literally sat next to me, working the keybard until the final submit button she made me push myself, were speckled with doubt. I started to wonder if I would ever actually finish. I didn't know how I would know when the project was complete. Then one evening I found some motivation and sat myself down and typed out all of the things I had left to say. After all of my scratched post its had been accounted for, all of the notes had been copied off my phone and all of the thoughts scribbled in my notebook had been woven in, I took a deep breath and knew I was done with my book. There were no more nagging thoughts about including this or that. I just felt something different, like a sort of peace. 

Somewhere along the line I did realize that writing a book meant people might hopefully read the book, which did briefly make me a little anxious. I had a little book signing at a cafe my friend works at. I thought I had myself prepared with what to write in people's books, but then there were some moments where I felt like I was writing too much and other times I was pretty pleased with what I conjured.

So, yeah...that's my news! How do I feel about it all now you may be wondering? It depends on the day. I have not exactly figured out what to do with the part of my mind that spun (and spun out) on this. Maybe you're wondering why I did this to begin with? I thought I had a story that was worth sharing in hopes that someday it might find itself in the hands of a person who would feel seen, less lonely or even catch a glimmer of hope by reading it. What is the book about? (Am I really answering that question last?) It is about my life with my grandmother, from the struggles we had relating to each other when I was a child, to trying to please her as an adult, through her years wth dementia and how our relationship changed along the way.

Thank you for coming to visit, as well as for the support when I've shared stories here about my grandmother. Be nice to yourself today, have a cookie!

A Sign That I'm Really Back

Here we are on a random Tuesday for starters, but that's not it. Oh no, far from it! The lore of the creepy monkeys started here over ten years ago, perhaps you recall some of the finest moments like this, this, this and this. I admit that it was starting to feel like those simians were a thing of the past, only to be lured back out by doing a blog post search. 

But then it happened, I came around the corner at Walmart just in time to hear a woman remarking to her adult daughter about how cute a toy on the shelf was. I spun my head to see which item she was referring to, that was not even notable enough for me to photograph, then looked to the left and heard a not at all quiet voice leave my mouh saying "That monkey is creepy though!" I assured her that her assessment of cuteness was not incorrect and that I was taking issue with the neighboring box's resident.

Fur Real, Peanut, keep your 100+ reactions to yourself! Come on, look at that illustration of Peanut rising to a standing position! No thank you Adorable. And what do we think is emanating from Peanut's armpit while walking? Or is that a reaction coming from their mouth? You aren't looking directly into those eyes are you?

I'd like to think Peanut is a size I could put up a fair fight against, I mean have you watched Chimp Crazy?  Just to be safe though, I wish there was a slightly smaller monkey for us.

Noooooo, not a whole darn jungle in my pocket!

Mac and Puck keeping those creepy monkey dreams (and nightmares) alive! Curse this generation of blind bag toys though, as I could not risk the disappointment of bringing home Chatty.

Behave yourselves as not only is Santa watching, but so are the creepy monkeys!!

And wow, did I know it!

I fancied myself a bit of a poet from my preteen years until my early twenties. (I believe we've gone over this a few times before, like here and here for starters.) The mid to late eighties material sits safely in the pages of my flannel fabric covered book. 

The early eighties stuff though? That stuff was deemed too risky by an angsty teenager to have laying around where it could someday be found. I threw that fanciful floral covered book in the garbage. Gasp! I know there was a poem I wrote for my sister when she was a baby, and I am sure it was fantastic (insert sarcasm font), but I do not recall any other muses I had back then. Rest assured though, I am certain the quality of all of the poems was horrendous. I'm not even going to try to make myself feel better by making considerations for my young age or ambition. Instead, I was just grateful nobody would ever have to consider the material again! Unfortunately, that young girl had no sense of what joy that fodder could provide for me decades later. But then...

There I was one afternoon, doing whatever it is I typically do to avoid housework, when a Facebook messenger alert sounded. Knowing instantly that it had to be something important, I ran to my phone. A message came asking if I was the Andrea that went to Stonehedge Elementary school, because if so, the sender was a really good friend of mine in sixth grade. Indeed, that was me. She said she had something to show me that she had just found...

I am going to save you the trouble of trying to decipher my, albeit awesome, cursive writing. (Moment of silence for that dying art.) Here is what it says...

Amy's Poem

Amy's ways will be missed by everyone

You helped many soccer games be won

Science class will turn rotten overnight

Because without Amy, nothing seems right

There will still be Margaret, Heidi, Kelly and everyone

But nobody else is full of laughs and fun

This poem is very true

When Amy leaves we'll all be blue

I hope I see her agaiin

Becuse she's a really terrific friend.

To Amy,

You're one of the best friends I've got

Keep this poem and I'll appreciate it a lot!

P.S. Thanks for keeping me laughing. I'll still think of you even if you don't keep this long. Just don't immediately throw it out, alright?

First things first, I should probably issue a public apology to Margaret, Heidi and Kelly. A girl's gotta rhyme though, am I right? Besides, it's not like they saw this work of art, as I surely slipped the paper to Amy privately. Oh wait, another message from Amy came through to tell me that her notes indicated that I read this poem over the loudspeaker on her last day at our school before moving. Who on earth did I think I was? Did I use up a lifetime of confidence on that morning? I was fairly certain she was mistaken, but did not say so because she had such documentation. As I sit here now though, months later, I do have some recollection of walking down the hall and also being near the microphone.

By the way, I can't even be mad about the condition of the loose leaf paper, nor question that stain on it. It is from 44 years ago!

I hope this story amuses you even half as much as it does me. I know there is someone who might still read this blog who has one of my masterpieces in her high school yearbook! (Hi Greta!) Perhaps some of you would like me to write an ode to you? I can take requests and promise the same level of craftsmanship.