Modify, Modify, Modify!

A local theater group is producing Anton Chekov's "Cherry Orchard". I wanted to audition when I saw the notice. Classical theater is my bread and butter. However, I've been in the never ending migraine cycle it seems, so I didn't audition. Well, a friend sent me an email that they had to recast a part due to the woman having medical issues. Ha! That was rich. Anyway, the part is my age and by the description, it would be perfect for me. However, I can't trust my head to cooperate. I've  been in a migraine cycle for more than two weeks. I don't know if I can withstand 6 weeks of rehearsal and then performances, especially since they have two performances on Sunday. I need some recovery time in order to get to work Monday through Friday. I really hate to pass up this opportunity, but I fear I must

Yup. That's what I'll be doing instead, Goat. Just sitting.

Everyone's fairly aware of food and environmental triggers when it comes to migraines. Some foods like cheese or drinks like wine can put some people on pain's path. At times, strong scents like perfumes or colognes can do it. I'm looking at you Axe Body Spray! Regardless of what starts them, they require a fair amount of changes like saying no in order for a person to be functional.

Otherwise this happens.

One thing that I've done recently is to add Nightlight to my screen displays both at home and at work. I first used the app at home, and it really helped save my eyes strain and my head pain. It's muted instead of glaring, which makes a world of difference. I didn't think something so small would help so much. It took a bit more in order to get the app on my school computer, but it's there now and I love it.

Yay me! It's the little things.

I've also brought some long strings of white Christmas lights to my classroom. I put the chili peppers on one strand and left the other one white. I also have the shades pulled down behind my desk and about halfway down on the other two so there's enough light to work. I leave the light off most of the time now except for first period when it's still dark outside. My students seem to prefer it that way. I do too. It surprised me how much those stupid florescent lights were really impeding my progress at school. I'm likely going to pick up some floor lamps from a second hand store next. The softer light is soothing rather than painful.

What? Too dark?

Unfortunately, a couple times a week I still awake with a migraine, which mens modifying my morning. On those days, I have to drink my water and lie back with an ice pack in the dark while the coffee brews. Instead of yoga, I just put on some relaxing music and sit. The triptan and ibuprofen have some time to kick in before the coffee's ready. No yoga, no work out, no morning news, no light housework; I just have to lie back and await the relief. Sometimes it doesn't come until after my shower, but it comes. My morning routine is different and slower and more nauseated, but it's the difference between staying home or getting to work. I still need to take it more slowly for a while at work, but it gets easier. Generally.

Of course, this also could happen.

If the pain comes at work, I have to wait to take my triptan until an open period or lunch. I can't just pop one if I'm teaching. They really work best if I can sit in the dark and let it do its thing. Continuing to move around and try to teach is just counterproductive. I've also started avoiding hall duty between classes when I have a migraine. I'm out there faithfully otherwise, but when the pain sets in, hallway duty is more than I can take. I also avoid the stairs after the hall clears. I email and make phone calls rather than going in person to avoid the imbalance of trying to move around. Sometimes, I can't even email without reading and rereading several times to make sure it makes sense. Sometimes I can't call because my speech is a bit slurry and my head so foggy I can't get the right words out of mouth. I must be patient with myself, which is difficult. Some days, I just have to push back my to-dos. I have to do these things in order to survive. I don't owe anyone any explanation. It just has to be this way and I have to allow myself to let go of the other demands in my head. I hate feeling like I can't do what I know I should. But it's necessary.

Actual image of my brain function  during migraine cycles.

This was the first weekend I haven't been completely laid up with a migraine. It's been glorious. My husband and I went to Thor and to Star Wars. I did housecleaning that I had neglected because I couldn't bring myself to do it with the migraine. Trust me, it was harder than it sounds to ignore the chores. Anyway, we made dinner, I am filling out Yule cards, and I am planning to finally get into my new Anne Rice novel. that I should have finished long ago if not for the repetitive migraine I've had lately Despite this reprieve, I can't help feeling a bit of impending doom. I don't know when another will hit, and it makes me jumpy. For now though, I'll take what I can get and take comfort in the modifications I am able to make.

Looks like you could use a nap, Moose. I know how you feel.

Yule is Coming

Every year, my husband and I share the responsibility for preparing the Christmas dinner. My mom has successfully handed that off to us as everyone else goes to church. This is fine. It keeps me busy, and I've mostly gotten past the whole oh-my-gods-I'm-cooking-a-huge-meal-for-the-whole-family anxiety. Mostly.

 I said "mostly", Goat. No need for the side eye.

Our Christmas consists of prime rib, potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, and a salad. Sometimes there's a second veggie, but not always. Sometimes there is soup. Not always. My sister makes the dessert usually. I try to go for a walk while the family is at church before I start on dinner. It is calming and centers me for the havoc that is to come. The snow dampens sound making it easier to focus and charge my batteries for later. 

Hopefully it won't be like this outside that night. Wind in winter here can be bitterly cold.

I'm contemplating my own Yule celebration this afternoon. It's on a Thursday officially according to the internet, and I still will have school the next day. I am sure that the family will gather on Friday as my aunt is also coming in from Denver for Christmas. It'll be a big gathering that night; one which I would be loathe to miss and guilted for not attending I am sure. I want to be there, but it'd also be good for a quiet and cozy Yule that night since school will be off my mind. Consequently, I'm vacillating between celebrating Thursday or waiting until after dinner Friday. I can't really stay up and watch the sun rise on the Solstice. Ah hell, I'm up to see the sun rise anyway, so that part of the celebration can actually happen. 

 Sunrise really is beautiful out our back window. Just need to wait for it rather than run to work. 

I can appreciate the morning. I can.

I think on Thursday, perhaps I will watch the sun rise, meditate on the peace, happiness, harmony, and love. I shall try to think of those concepts frequently throughout the day. After school, have dinner of Sun God Soup with my husband and have honey cakes for dessert--again pouring my feelings of peace, happiness, harmony, and love into the meal. Ginger tea and ginger beer for beverages. Probably a shot of Vazonka, too. I think I can get away with one on my IBS diet. Burn the candles on the wood of last year's tree and light some frankincense. Perhaps some light music. I think I will avoid anything other than music or reading. Maybe Christmas Carol if I can talk my husband into it.  

Oh! To have a fireplace. I think I'd move those stockings though.

While I cherish the Christmas traditions with my family, I truly savor the solitude and quiet of Yule. I know it used to be a drunken and rowdy celebration, but I find a more sedate observation suits my practice. I'll leave the loud merriment to the Christmas gathering.

C'mon, Moose. You'd look great with an evergreen wreath on your head. Some holly perhaps?

A Day in the Life

I should be practicing for my dance performance this week. I'm not. I think I have my song chosen. I've had a migraine for the last five days. It's been a roller coaster of level 8, medicate, level 1, and then back to 8. This morning, I awoke and couldn't even turn on the lights of the Christmas tree. I fed the cats, drank some water, and laid back down on the sofa after taking my Zomig.

You're right to be skeptical, Goat. It hasn't been all that successful lately.

About an hour later, I drowsily looked around and sat up. I was greeted with more stabby pain in my right eye. My GP had told me that if after 30 minutes to an hour the triptan didn't work, take 2 ibuprofen. I did and went back to the sofa for another hour.

That's about the size of it.

When I awoke, my cat, Hissy, had her face in my water glass and she was lapping it up. *sigh* I sat up and the pain wasn't as bad. After getting my bearings, I stood and went to the kitchen to make coffee. Then I went back to the sofa. I set my computer screen to nightlight to dim the overpowering glare and tried to read some articles. That didn't go well. I went back to finish the coffee.

That's about what I looked like sniffing the coffee.

While the French press steeped, I went to put drops in my eyes. I gave the cats some dry food for second breakfast. They're like hobbits that way. Then I stirred the coffee. While it settled, I went back to the bathroom and put more drops in my eyes. It occurred to me that I had already done this. Dammit.

Oh thanks. That's really helpful.

I went to get my coffee and sat back on the sofa and inhaled that glorious aroma. I tried reading again. A little better, but the pain was starting to get cranky again because of all the movement. I enlarged the type on the computer to combat the blurriness and continued to slowly read and scroll. I looked over at the boxes that had arrived for Christmas gifts and decided I should open them. Since Klaus likes boxes so much, he decided to "help" me. He had successfully pulled some of the packaging tape off of one box, but the rest of his assistance was really more an exercise in patience while he sat atop the box and chewed on it.

Yeah...he's done that.

I sat down again. More coffee. Where'd I put the lists for Christmas? I needed to check if everything arrived yet. I hunted and hunted and grew more discouraged and pained as I l hunted. Finally found the damned thing next to he microwave, but the big list of what I had bought last weekend wasn't on there. I had to go through the receipt emails to see which ones were in and which were not; which were for whom, and which went to someone else. Again: tedious and pained. Frustrating too because I couldn't remember what I bought for whom. My memory has been shot for days.

That's right, Gollum. Just when I think I have it, I don't.

The pain started to subside after some coffee and time, so I went to handle some laundry. The pain started growing again as I mounted the stairs to go put away the denims and darks. Fuck. I just couldn't shake this damn migraine. I got a little woozy as I put away laundry. Don't move too fast or you'll anger the migraine gods.

My soulmate for the day.

After some Diablo and more time on the sofa, I eventually made my way to the shower. While in the shower, it seemed as if something was lifting. Oh my! The migraine seemed to be on its way out. Finally! After the will it or won't, after the color blobs and light show, after the dizzy and the difficulty finding words, I seemed to be free of the pain.

 So yeah, Frank-N-Furter, I had a bit of the hanky and the panky. 

Now I'm back on the sofa. Exhausted. My migraine app has been updated. It's so optimistic. It tells me I've been headache free for an hour. But I'm too tired to dance. I'm too tired to sweep the floor. I'm too tired to go dismantle the fence for salvage lumber to make above ground garden beds as I've been wanting to do all week.

 You got it right, Snoopy. Bit I'll sleep on the sofa. 

It's more comfortable than the top of a doghouse.

I hate fucking migraines. They've interfered so much lately. I missed work. I missed working out and doing yoga because I had to move slowly so I could get to work. I've missed dance because I've been on the floor too pained to walk. I've not been to see a friend who's in town caring for her father who's recovering from having a big ass tumor removed. I want to go volunteer somewhere in town, but I'm scared because what if I can't keep my obligations due to migraines? It really does make one anxious and depressed.

Ya got one of those for me?

The blue dots are blinking on the wall to the right of my screen. The pain every so often sends a level 2 surge through the back of my head. My fatigue says I should sleep even though I know that will make me stay awake during the night. Do I add this to my app as a headache? Is it worthy of an entry? I don't know.

The cat gets me.

I do know I see my neurologist tomorrow. I don't know what she'll say when I tell her how awful the last few weeks have been. If she increases my Lamictal, I'm in for a week of nightmares and sweats. I want a beer; I haven't had one in a week, so I'm not going to ruin my good run now. I can resist. Not like I could drive anyway. We'll see what tomorrow brings. Hopefully a pain free morning. It's been almost a week since I've had one of those. Whatever. What's one more migraine morning now anyway?

You're right, Moose. Best just sit and recover. Tomorrow will be what it will be.

Happy Little Trees

Yule is coming. I really do enjoy Yule and Christmas traditions both. I put up our tree and got it decorated last Saturday. It's a darling little 5" tree. A nice shape and only a slight bare spot that is facing the wall of course. The tree is my favorite decoration. The lights at night make me happy. In the morning when it's still dark outside, they give me a little joy to start my day. A tree is a non-negotiable part of the December holidays, and I am a big proponent of a real tree.

Way to get in the spirit, Goat!

I remember as a little kid, my dad would come home one winter night with a real tree. He'd never tell us when, so it was always a surprise. It was an exciting night because it meant that Santa was soon to visit. We needed to decorate that tree fast so he'd have a place for the presents. We had those really big almost oval shaped lights. We had bubble lights, too. We also had an array of ornaments old and new and many from my  mom's students. Mom and Dad always gave us a keepsake ornament as well.

Thankfully, this was never part of our family tradition even when we got an artificial tree.

As a child, my grandfather considered being a tree farmer up in the Flathead region. My dad grew up outside of Whitefish on a farm and the family owned a dairy for a long time. There are tree farms in the Flathead area. I've driven past them a a number of times. Ultimately, Grandpa derided it wasn't profitable enough for him to invest, so he opted out. I was sad when decided against it. I thought it'd be the best thing ever to go visit and help with the Christmas trees. I totally would have helped sell them on a lot here in Great Falls. Alas! It was not to be.

Yeah. It was like that.

When my husband and I had our first few Christmases together, we used to go tree hunting with his mom and brother. I loved it. Sometimes it was cold, sometimes it was terribly snowy, sometimes I feared the car was going to get stuck or slide off the road, but there was hot cider or cocoa to warm us. We took sleds, too. It always ended with us in a place called The Lazy Doe. Good food and warm; usually filled with other tree hunters or skiers. When my husband and I were diagnosed with our respective autoimmune issues, the trip became harder and harder. It also became later and later in the month. Then he started traveling a lot with his work, so the tradition stopped. I started getting a tree at a lot usually in the first week of December. Then I started getting it right after Thanksgiving so I could put it up while I was still on holiday from school.

I don't know who thought real candles on a tree that dries out  significantly was a good idea. Even if the trees of old were not up in early December, it's just a bad idea all around.

Bringing evergreens or trees into the home has a long tradition from Saturnalia to the upside down trees in Poland to our own modern practice of lighting trees at civic locations and famous locations like Rockefeller Plaza. Pagan practices with evergreens are not uncommon. The concept of bringing the greens inside to give the fae somewhere to hide until the holiday or somewhere for a nisse to receive his porridge. Vikings loved and honored their evergreens, and Celtic Druids used evergreens in their temples at Solstice. That's why I was surprised to see a post about how as a pagan this woman was against cutting a tree down to put in her home. Personally, I have no problem whatsoever bringing a tree into the house pagan or not. It's my favorite part of decorating my house in winter. It's little bit of light during the dark time of the year. I never considered not having one when I first started down the pagan path, and I never will.

OK, Moose. Point taken. If there's an evergreen shortage of course I'll concede. 

Hope you find a good one.

Gutbusters

It's the holiday season. During this time of year, the alcohol companies start hocking their wares. I thought since we don't watch much network TV, we'd likely not see much on that front. However, on Hulu and Amazon both, I've witnessed Wild Turkey with a side of Matthew McConnaughey, Mondavi wines featuring everyday pretentious folks, and Smirnoff starring Ted Danson. 'Tis the season for all types of alcohol and screw you if you have to stop consuming it. *sigh*

Technically guys, that's Santa's job. You know, there's even a song about "Up on the Housetop" and reindeer's paws, not goats.

I've sucked at this whole IBS elimination diet. I thought I could test a few items and that'd be enough. I am so terrible at this thing that it's come down to an all or nothing situation. In order to truly know what my triggers are, I have to let go of all the potentials including alcohol.

Just like that.

To be clear, on this elimination diet, it does allow you one beer or one glass of wine. Thing is: I can't do that. I can maybe hold the wine to one since more increases the risk of migraine depending on the brand. Beer though? Even a limit of two is unlikely. I love that hoppy beverage and I won't pretend I don't.

Maybe not as much as Homer, but you get it, right?

At the start of the school year, my husband and I decided that we should decrease our beer consumption and shoot for only on weekends. Not only a weekend only thing, but I suggested one 12 pack only. We really only go to about 18 mind you, but even that has been tough to manage. We frequently get more like 24 lately on the weekend leaving some for Monday. Gotta finish it, right? Can't leave it alone in the fridge. It's even started to bleed into Thursdays because let's be honest: Thursday is the new Friday and my Thursdays during the last month have been exhausting. Not that it excuses my penchant for imbibing one or two on Friday Eve, but I think you see my point.

Don't tease me. Magic 8 Balls never say that.

It was also Thanksgiving weekend here in the States. Worst. Time. Ever. To try and stick to an elimination diet of this magnitude. The stuffing, the pie, and the alcohol. Just couldn't stay my hand. Consequently, I took the Fuck It approach and indulged telling myself that this is it. Go out with a bang!

Yup, Mr. Bean. That's how I rolled this holiday.

To be clear, I am not a raging alcoholic, but I love beer. I can let the wine go, but beer is my go to. If I want to chill on a summer's day, I reach for an IPA. If I want to unwind on Friday night, I reach for an IPA. If I want something cold while camping, I go to the cooler for an IPA. Can you tell my favorite beer? I drink it almost exclusively.

 Never give your dog beer. That's a terrible idea. And a waste.

I did successfully navigate alcohol free living for about two months in the last year when I was on Topamax. I can do this again right? Of all the items on the elimination diet (and there are a lot like bananas, asparagus, and hummus), beer is going to be tough. What if it's a massive trigger?  It's so ingrained into my evening weekend routine that habit will be difficult to replace. The holidays will be even that much tougher. Alcohol is everywhere this time of year.

I'm sure they are, Karen. Just like you.

There are bonuses to this elimination beyond regulating my gut. It will decrease our grocery bill. My favorite IPA from a local brewery is now available in stores. No more running downtown for a growler, which is also three dollars less than the convenience of the cans in the stores. I was willing to pay the $12 for convenience. While I won't be contributing to a local business, they do a booming business without me. They'll be OK.

Thanks, Bill. Wait, what's that in your hand? Goddammit, Bill.

It also will likely help my migraines. Alcohol is a trigger for some. While I knew that certain red wines can send me to the floor and to the bathroom for a lovely expulsion of my stomach contents, I don't really know the impact of beer. This is a good time to find out I suppose.

Not helping, Worm.

Furthermore, I am highly likely to lose some more weight. While I have been hovering around my preferred weight, last time I dropped alcohol, I fell about 10 pounds. This diet goes 12 weeks before reintroducing foods and liquids. With all the other restrictions, I could fall to a weight I haven't been since I was 15. This could be another chance to reduce my weight and find a way to maintain it at a lower number. Despite not needing to lose weight, it is possible.

If we're being honest, this is not going to happen, so...

OK, so I do look like that running, but that's not how I will lose weight. Ever.

I suppose getting my gut in order should really be enough. Overriding my gut's desire to get backed up or painful or enthusiastic about voiding the leftover stuff my body doesn't need in an urgent fashion should be enough incentive. But damn! I love beer and this is going to be tough. I need to acknowledge that. I need to own this part of myself. Maybe one pint before the sun goes down on this weekend. I got this.

Your skepticism isn't helping, Moose. Don't judge.

The Elephant Predator in the Room

I just roasted up two high jinks pumpkins. I have 6 more mind you. Looks like we'll be rolling in pumpkin puree. Seriously. I went to look online for chest freezers. We'll need one soon. As I was scooping out the pumpkin guts, it occurred to me that anyone who makes excuses for Roy Moore, the Orange Man, and lack of gun control seriously has their priorities out of order.

Poor Kid. You have no idea.

Roy Moore: People are actually making excuses for this man. They have even used the Bible to excuse his behavior. I mean, Lot tossed his virginal daughters to the crowds and then impregnated them, so why not allow Moore to have his way with as many underage women as he wants, right? Clearly if the Bible allows it, then we should also not censure Moore for statutory rape. I read an article that said he was known for going around his hometown trolling for underage young women. The people in the town knew about it and did nothing. That's the height of disgusting and ambivalent behavior. I've also heard the what-about-ists claiming, "But Bill Clinton! He got to remain President!" Ok I see your point... to a point. Moore's victim was underage. That's the bottom line here. While Clinton did get a a bit of a pass on the blowjob and the lying (Slick Willy and all) he also did not prey on underage women. What he did does not in anyway excuse what Moore did. Period. To still cast a vote for this man rather than boot him out is reprehensible. Even the Democrats ousted Anthony Weiner for sending dick pics. Al Franken has openly invited investigation into the allegations against him. Surely someone will come to their right mind and tell the Republican party enough! Moore's got to go.Why the party is even allowing him to stay in the race is hideous.

You know it, Dean. Bad taste indeed.

That Jerk Who Shall Not Be Named: Let's move on to the embarrassment we have to accept as our leader*shudder* He was elected even though he was on tape bragging about sexual assault and was accused of walking in on the contestants of the Miss Teen USA Pageant. Oh yeah! And then there was the rape case involving a 14 year old that quietly got settled and/or ignored. I supposed one could say that too many absentee ballots had been cast, but I don't think that's the case here. Given the lackluster condemnation of Moore, I think it has more to do with the Republican Party's sexism. It's that simple. Women and young girls exist as objects for sex only: be pretty honey, but not slutty; smile even though you want to run screaming; just take it because I'm big and powerful and will make your life hell if you talk. I'm sure some female Republicans would disagree with me, but they damn well better not have voted for nor currently support either one of them. If they dare to blame the women, then fuck them! The teen contestants had an expectation of privacy and he violated it. The women he accosted had a right to bodily autonomy. Period. There is no excuse and to make excuses for him is reprehensible.

Like your soul, you bastards!

Gun Lovers: Then there are the gun enthusiasts who never seem to think it's the right time to talk about enacting laws to prohibit private ownership of assault weapons and  modifiers that allow the guns to create even more mayhem in a mass shooting situation. Of course, when people chose the Second Amendment over protecting children, they showed their true colors. When they called conspiracy! It didn't happen! They don't really want to protect children at all. Ever. If they claim to be right to life and they also believe that nothing can be done to protect children from mass shootings, they lie. They tacitly accept they are helpless to make any kind of change, which is total bullshit. They are complicit in every death that has occurred since Sandy Hook. Of course, now there are those bulletproof shields to put in backpacks so some scumbag can profit off the fear. Way to go free market! Make the kids wear body armor to school so you can make a buck. That makes total sense you exploitative assholes!

*Needs no caption Speaks for itself*

It's become rather clear as I squish and squash my pumpkins that Republicans really don't give a damn about the children in this country. They have traded their family values for unfettered pedophiles and unlimited gun access. Don't even get me started on their education policy. Make no mistake, if you're underage, the Republican party will choose their politicians and gun money over you every fucking time.

Best keep running, Li'l Moose.

Taking Action

Awhile ago I was sitting in this little dive bar listening to not awful karaoke with an old friend. While my friend went to have a smoke, this man I didn't know who must have been at least 50, put his jacket down on my friend's stool. I told him politely that the stool was taken. He said he'd move it when my friend returned. I stared at him in disbelief. As my disbelief turned to fury, the man held my stare as if challenging me to say more. I finally broke gaze and turned to my husband and said, "Can you believe this dick?" The man then proceeded to approach me and retorted, "Hey! I'm not a dick. Your friend isn't here. Don't be a bitch." I of course responded, "Oh! Now you're going to listen to a woman? Since I seem to have your attention, move your fucking coat before I put it on the floor." He was a bit taken aback. He didn't back down until his buddy said, "Hey man. Just take your coat. Let's go."

OK, fine, Goat. That's not what happened at all. 

What did happen was this: All of it is true up to the point where I turned and spoke to my husband. Then I nonchalantly flipped the guy off, but he had the good sense to move along. When my friend came back, the man politely moved his jacket and and made a show of his magnanimous gesture of goodwill to which I smiled with more sneer than genuine kindness and gave him a finger waggle wave and brush. He moved along and did soon after leave with his buddy. 

So what if I flipped him off again. He left.

Afterward though, I was still filled with anger. I could't let it go. I kept seeing his ugly, smug, smarmy face staring me down like some schoolyard bully. It still gets my ire up even now to think about it and it's been almost a month. My voice was startled into silent submission. The fact of the matter though is that I didn't put up more of a resistance. I was scared. Even though we were in a crowded bar and my husband was nearby, I felt like this man could be a threat and I might not be safe continuing the confrontation. 

Yeah. I was a chicken. Not even a cool chicken like this one that rides a turtle. Just a wimpy chicken who lacked the fortitude to stand up for herself without fear of reprisal.

Like so many other women, I felt suddenly unsafe. Faced with a bonafide asshole who probably would say he wasn't a sexist, I was speechless and couldn't give him my best Julia Sugarbaker. He was, after all, drunk, and drinking does things to people like make them more prone to violence. I have been subjected to this kind of jerk-ass sexism more than once: a doctor who made a comment about my weight being inappropriate and likely a factor of my lupus. Mind you, my weight was right in the average range for my height and about 20 pounds lighter than when I had first started seeing him. The doctor who did my vertebrae fusion made comments about my yoga practice and said that the only people he knew in California who did yoga were men who went to watch young women's asses (most likely downward dog). He also made reference to my nail polish that matched my toenail polish, my thin, ballerina neck, and my belly dance as if it was stripping because his wife would never be ok with going to see us dance at the restaurant (as if what we do is somehow dirty). None of which had any bearing on my surgery mind you. Of course, there was also the asshat who was drunk at the restaurant and said horrid things to me while pulling my skirt back and looking at my ass.

I'm not usually prone to violence as a solution, 

but I good slap across their misogynistic faces would have felt so good.

None of this makes me unique or special in the world. It's just more of the same sexist garbage that women face every day. Our current president was accused by more than one woman and several underage women, yet he still got into office. Another politician, Moore, who's running for Senate is also facing allegations, but a new poll found that nearly 40% of Evangelical voters would still vote for him. Apparently violating the bodily autonomy of underage women or even adult women is ok with people, especially people who identify as conservative Christians--note I did not say all. But some is enough to send a message that speaking up just puts you on the hot-seat. Speaking up just means that you, not your aggressor, will be the one to pay the price.Women don't even want to believe other women who do speak up. It's unconscionable that these XY predators get a pass. Hell, they even get elected to offices meant to represent the values of America and all its citizens. Apparently for some, it's ok to victimize women, teens, and girls. I'm sure they were asking for it. I'm sure they deserved it for smarting off. I'm sure they enjoyed it:s

Precisely.

After that scumbag at the restaurant assaulted me, my dance teacher advised me to just forget it. She also advised me that it was her training with a firearm that made her feel confident and like nobody could accost her and get away with it. He did something similar to her that night. She told him,"It's not that kind of show." That's when he came at me. If you've ever read any of my others posts, you know I'm not a fan of guns. I have no intention of ever owning one.  I feel strongly that if I had one, then it'd become my default setting. I'd reach for it every time. 

I don't ever want that to be me.

Today, I called about self-defense classes. I've long considered them, but I never enrolled or pursued them with any real intent. Today I did. I figure I will find the courage, confidence, and competence to meet the challenge posed by any one of my previous and yet to be dickwads. I am not so naive to think there won't be more in my future. There will. I'll be ready for them, inner Julia Sugarbaker and all.

All right, Moose. Let's do this.

Frozen

I haven't written much. How can I? It's just overwhelming lately. An incompetent president, a government unraveling, a deluge of assault stories, and yet another goddamned shooting.

Baffles me too, Goat. We should be able to do something about that last one.

I'm frozen. It feels like the snow on roof slid down on my head. It's chilling. It's freezing here. If only it had made my skin into some kind of icy armor. But here I am. Hiding out in my robe avoiding the literal snow and the deep freeze I feel at every headline. It's a whiteout.

Gorgeous and terrifying this picture. Bring on the gorgeous.

Around here we get Chinook winds that give us a break from the winter weather warnings. Reports for the week don't show breaks in the early and fierce winter. I have Sorel boots, a warm knit scarf and hat, and my gloves are ready to wear. We Montanans know how to brave the storms.

I have an electric bed warmer, too. Sorry, Moose.

At least that's one armor I have.