Category: Diary of a Blogger’s Blog (Mine)

Kinda like in a name, as dear Will once penned (or is that “quilled”) for Romeo and Juliet.

WordPress emailed me my stats for May—“another successful month for your site is in the books!”  Never received one of these before.  Wow . . . those numbers were just so n-o-t great.  😂

Then I saw that they provided recommendations for “increasing traffic and engaging readers”.

“Ignite your site”.

Love that phrase!  Yeah!  I want to set people’s interest on fire!  I want big numbers!

Ah, but the time factor …?  Time [still, at least for the interim] is just not my friend.  But I was curious.  What would this all entail? 

I clicked on one link.  “Uh oh.  Page not found.”  Clicked on another.  Another MIA page. 

I’m sure if I went searching, I’d find those pages somewhere in the internet/Wordpress cosmos.  I just don’t . . . yeah, you got it . . . have the time to do that.

Alas, the occasion to increase my numbers will have to wait.  But not forever.  Decisive action will prevail . . . when time [finally] allows.  😉

My/our new word for the week.

Given this post is dedicated to writing and editing, and the gals from the Triple Threat Investigation Agency (a Hawaii-based mystery series that sometimes borders on the silly and willy-nilly), I thought I’d attempt to get back to that, given I’d digressed a bit of late.  That, folks, is what might once have been called a run-on sentence.  But nobody seems to give a <bleeping bleep> about grammar and the like anymore.  So who really cares (but the few of us who still embrace syntax and the like)?  But I digress.  Again.

As my acupuncturist was inserting one of many needles, my stomach started to rumble—so loudly, it sounded like a famished moose, voracious rhinoceros, and ravenous Komodo dragon were in the room.

Dr. D asked if I knew what those stomach sounds were called.  Alas, I did not.  “Haven’t a clue,” I humbly confessed over the snorts of the rhino.

“Borborygmi.”

Borborygmi?  The sound of that word struck me as insanely funny.  I thought it might be fun to share a vid of that—and they do have them!—but they were pretty damn dry, not comical at all, save for one. A medical gent (so I assumed) was truly trying to sound very factual, and the more he got into it—sounding oh so serious and knowledgeable—the more I had to laugh.  We’ll spare him and not post that vid.  😉.

So, friends, our new word of the week—hmm, maybe we’ll make it the month—is borborygmi.  The noises your stomach makes … intestinal sounds that occur during the digestive process (hmm, given I’d not eaten for some 18 hours, I’m not so sure I was “digesting” anything at the time).  The smooth muscles that occupy our stomach squeeze food and gas through 30’ of small and large intestine.  This activity, called peristalsis, is what creates those stomach sounds.

Who knew!?  Well, I do now . . . and so do you.

 milestone = important event, one that occurs at a critical time

memory = something that is remembered, mental representation

Not sure about the “important” or “critical”.  Yesterday was a milestone b-day and I ain’t sayin’ the number, but social media being what it is, I’m sure that number is out there somewhere.  As the lady in the commercial says, “Age is only a number, and mine’s unlisted”.  😉

I don’t feel old(er).  Too bad the mirror tells me I am.  I suppose a facelift is a possibility, but I don’t have 20K to spare, and from some I’ve seen, I’m not so sure I’d [truly] want to go there.  Lips kissing my earlobes—as in mine—is not that winsome a look.

The memories?  I buried my mom on Monday.  The service was short and pleasant.  And emotional.  When the celebrant played “Amazing Grace”, Niagara Falls erupted.

For decades, I took care of my mom.  Now, it’s time to take care of me, so people keep telling me.  And they’re right.  I’ve neglected myself in many ways.  I need to look after me—by wearing a new hat (like a lady at a royal ceremony might sport, though technically I suppose that would be called a  fascinator) and viewing life and the world with fresh [not fatigued or anxious] eyes, and maybe embracing that age that makes me wince and grimace.  Some people are good with getting older; they welcome it and wear it like a silver crown or a badge of honor.  Power to them. 

For the next week or so, I’ll likely continue to reflect on the memories [good, bad, sad] that have brought me to this milestone.  I’ll honor them . . . and I’ll offer gratitude to all that’s made me what I am today. 

And on that note-speaking of milestones and memories—I have a coronation to watch (and I’m not referring to that entertaining soap-opera-dense street)!

It’s a “waffle” kind of day.  Not those lovely, yummy-nummy, round, flat cakes prepared in a frying pan or waffle-iron, served with fruit and/or syrup (maple’s my fave), and sometimes whipped cream.  The waffle that comes from not being able to make a decision—you know, wavering, vacillating, being indecisive about something. 

I’m waffling between beating myself up [again] for not conceiving of something enlightening / entertaining / stimulating / witty to post about and patting myself on the back for having gotten this far. 

As someone pointed out (thank you, my friend), I have written five books.  The “beater” in me thinks, ech, so what?  How many people have read them?  And based on why some people write (and have so much as stated), there’s no $ being made from it.  The “patter” thinks, yeah, I’ve written five books.  Published books.  And I’m working on my sixth.  That’s something to be proud of.

Having been a glass-half-empty kinda gal for way too long, it’s time to pull up the ol’ socks (gotta love those clichés).  And as I sit here, staring out the window, absently watching someone climb out of bed in the building across the street (sorry, dude), I tell myself I am going to do just that—pull up all three pairs (‘cause it’s [still] bleeping cool here).

The half-glass-full gal says thank you to those of you who provide positive/supportive comments; they mean a lot, truly!  This gal will figure things out and get back on the straight and narrow (yeah, it’s a cliché-filled morning but, sometimes, they serve so well).  It may not be tomorrow, or next week, or even next month.  She has a few things to put into perspective.  But she’ll get there.   

She’s embracing a new attitude and forging forward.  😊

A most Happy Easter to those of you celebrating this commemorative holy time or for those of you simply enjoying the arrival of funny Mr. Bunny and his nummy-sweet treats.

Here’s to pleasant moments with family and friends … and remembering and honoring all the wonderful people, events, and everyday things in our lives we’re blessed to embrace.

Here’s to happiness . . . with a bit of a beat.  😉

On a few levels.

Loss of my mom.

Loss of sleep.

Loss of [manageable] time.

Loss of understanding why coworkers are not upfront about not having your work when you were on bereavement leave (and it takes an incident for that truth to come out).

At a loss knowing what to post about.

At a loss trying to figure out how to get back on top of things.

At a loss pondering the state of the world, politics, and human nature.

At a loss . . . wondering if spring will ever arrive or if, in July, we’ll simply slide into summer.  😉

I’m sure all will fall into place again at some point.  Speaking of “fall” though, right now, it feels like I’m hanging in a wishing well by my fingertips, struggling not to drop into the groundwater . . . or whatever else may be waiting below.

Here’s to wishing—to be embraced by the straight and narrow, the norm, the predictable, the routine . . . and welcoming the loss of loss.

In our younger years, when mortality is simply a word in the dictionary, we tend to think life will never end . . . that we’re invincible . . . that those close to us are so resilient, they’ll live forever.

As we age—acquire maturity and wisdom—we recognize how fragile, and quick, life truly is.  We blink, and 20 years have passed.  Another blink, and 40 have whizzed by like a bullet train.

My mother’s 96 years ended in perpetual sleep this week.  The tears have dried now, but the sadness—emptiness—will remain for a while.

We had an oil-and-vinegar relationship.  And the last many years were not easy ones for me as a caregiver for a variety of reasons but now, that is—as the saying goes—water under the bridge.

I’m glad I was there at the end, to hold her hand as she traveled from this earthly realm to an otherworldly one.

Rest in peace, Mom.  May God be with you.

. . . seemed like an appropriate title.  It seems my life—your life—is a never-ending journey.  One that takes a forever yet can be over in a blink.

On this end, mom-care visits are still happening.  Too much mental/emotional baggage is still holding me back from truly embarking on my life, one free of obligation and guilt.  But that’s another story.

This post is about my current trek within that forever journey.  I’d made a recent/quick decision to take control over a [tiny] part of my life . . . but it’s one I’m certainly now questioning, because it’s proven so very overwhelming.

After many (many!) years of not having fixed up the place, I decided to have the floors stripped and re-varnished, and the walls painted.  Cost aside (I’m questioning that, too, because I’m not earning a VP’s salary—heck, I’m not even earning a VP’s EA’s salary), I sucked it up and went for it.

Wow, who knew there’d be so much work involved?  Who’d have imagined that moving all the furniture would prove that difficult?!  Obviously, not me!  Who knew you’d have to spend three nights away (I kind of figured one, but three)?  Who realized local hotels cost $300+ a night?  Not me, and ouch.  So, I went for a “boutique hotel”, more of a B&B really . . . but . . . yeah . . . you get what you pay for.  <eye roll and sniffle>

After beating myself up (yet again), I decided to focus on the positive aspects.  I’d had enough semblance of thought to bring Lysol.  This was/is good.  There was a functional TV.  This helped divert attention—if you like watching news channels all night long.  One that made me stop wanting to smack myself repeatedly in the head: at least the shower was amazing.  It was clean, roomy with a seat, and the water was instantly and wonderfully hot.

The day this is posted is the day I will have returned home to new floors.  Won’t have moved what’s left of the furniture back though.  Have to wait another day.  Then the painting fellow arrives Sunday morning.  Hopefully, that project won’t take too, too long (and I’m not going anywhere, if I have to sleep on the balcony wrapped in multiple tarps).

Maybe, just maybe, come the next post, I’ll have managed to move all the stuff that’s crammed into the bathtub and shower, and jammed into the small bedroom closet—an open-the-door comedy-show explosion in the making.

I’m sure, one day, I will laugh—or at least snicker—at this current, crazy, but not-brief-enough trek.  Maybe while I’m sitting admiring the new floors and walls, and thinking, yeah, it was worth it.  <eye roll and sniffle>

So the saying goes.  Doesn’t really apply to this post, but it is the third time I’m posting about Hawaii.

There’s another snowstorm blowing white flakes past the icy window, as it did the week before, and the week before that.  While it’s pretty and peaceful, it has me dreaming of other white stuff: sand.  Like that soft, silky powder found on Oahu beaches.  Those trodden by thousands of tourists’ feet in an endeavor to catch rays, leap into sapphire waters, and/or get some serious down time before returning to the world of work and worries.

My eating habits are predictable here.  Same stuff day in, day out.  The weekly (yawn-inducing) menu rarely varies.  When I’m visiting my Hawaiian “home”, I tend to be more adventuresome.  I love trying new foods, and always do.

The last trip, however, had me hooked on a different version of my favorite food: pizza.  Garlic-kalua-pig.  Holy moley, was it good!  So good, I pretty much ate it every other day.

But I did have my veggies.  And my salads.  And my “international” delights.

Then, came the treats—the shave ice, traditional versus “fancy”.  And something I hadn’t had since being a kid (they’ve been hard to find here over the years, but are easily obtained in Hawaii) … those delightful, nummy-sweet Hostess cupcakes.  Heaven!  Like, can you spell y-u-m-m-m-m?

I had one of the must-have drinks—a Mai Tai—of course.  You know, it didn’t really appeal to me, but it sure looked pretty, especially sitting under a palm by the beach.

   Cheers to more trips and warmer days!