ToadMama – Page 37 – ToadMama.com

April 13, 2016April 13, 2016

Sprucing Things Up

I have a love/hate thing going on with Spring. I love that all of the trees and flowers are blooming, and that the grass seems to be waking from hibernation, but I hate that the weeds are growing, too. (Many weeds have been growing since Fall!)

The older and more out-of-shape I get, the less I enjoy gardening. It takes a toll on this aging body. Hubby feels the same way. He’s older than me, remember. Or, as he likes to say, I am younger than him, by slightly more than a decade.

Our yard is small, but it is full of flower beds. In 2013, after he and I spent an entire weekend weeding, schlepping around and applying 65 two-cubic-foot bags of mulch, and a whole week recovering from the resultant aches and pains, we told each other, “Never again.”

So, in Spring of 2014, it became my task to hire a landscaper. Long-story-short, they were terribly expensive, asking for much more than we were willing to spend. I decided it would be much more cost-effective if we, really I, bought mulch and found a local kid or two to come spread it around for us.

As I was leaving the garden center, having just paid for a mulch delivery, our favorite waiter was walking into the garden center, wearing that establishment’s uniform. He’s a very nice young man in his late 20s who I know has a couple of children and routinely works three to four jobs at a time.

I asked if he’d like to help with our yard. He agreed. He did such a fabulous job, he’s been doing it every year since.

That first year, I didn’t have high expectations. I just wanted him to spread the mulch. He did that, of course, but first he weeded and cleaned out all the old leaves and such. He filled about 15 large trash bags with debris! Then he spread the mulch.

He worked around his own schedule, doing it in a few shorter blocks of time. Between every shift, he cleaned, so the yard was spotless when he left. Of course, he cleaned when he had finished the job, too. The yard was spotless. He really does an amazing job.

"Muy bien, Mama!" (They say he passed inspection.) — “Muy bien, Mama!” (They say he passed inspection.)

I do not know this young man very well personally, but he always provides top-notch services. He’s a good guy, a very hard worker, and is also very conscientious and takes pride in his work. Plus, he loves doing this type of thing. To quote him, mulch smells “like freedom” to him (meaning he’s outdoors working rather than indoors).

If you live in or around the Warrenton area and have a project for which you could use some assistance, let me know and I’ll put you in touch. It will be up to you to meet and negotiate an agreement with this young man for whatever project you have in mind. He’s very good AND very reasonable.

April 10, 2016

The Jam

I’m in a rut. I know it. The trick is figuring how to pull myself OUT of said rut.

I’ve been living life day to day. Not really planning ahead, not really looking behind. Just taking each day as it comes. Not in a carpe diem kind of way either. It’s been more like plodding along in a very long, slow-moving traffic jam on a highway with no exits for many miles. Surrounded by hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions of people just like me.

Daydreaming about possibilities, all kinds of possibilities, yet still inching along. Moving forward, but not really going anywhere. Content in my comfortable, climate-controlled vehicle. Shaking my head sadly as other cars break down, inch their way to the shoulder, wondering, but not really caring, whether each car and its occupants will languish or find some other way to get where they are going.

I’ve got my phone along. I can stay in touch with folks. Or not.

I eat what I want, when I want. Not really caring about nutritional values. Not nourishing my body, just fueling my hunger. Satisfying an immediate need. Or is it just a want?

I check the map every now and then, looking for exits, planning my escape. Excitement builds as I near a potential egress, blossoming as I consider the myriad possibilities. Who knows where that route could take me? The things I will see. Oh, the things I will do!

Then I look around. I’m surrounded by other vehicles, many different makes and models. Some are shiny and new, others are old. A few are really damn decrepit, and will likely be struggling to the shoulder soon. Many vehicles are just like mine. Not new and not old. Able to move forward. Invisible in their normalcy. The only thing that makes each of those cars stand out is their driver.

My gaze shifts from the rear-view mirror to the side view. I plot my escape. Consider the different methods I can employ to squeeze through the traffic. Surely I could do it if I tried. It may not be easy, but it would certainly be possible.

I start to inch to the right as I continue to creep forward. Forward, over, forward, over.

I catch a glimpse of the driver of the car squeezing past on my right. “Stay where you are. This is my fucking lane. Move along,” is what that look says.

Maybe I’ll see that person again, maybe not. Compatriots on the highway quickly become strangers once one changes their path.

I ease back to the left, look ahead once again. Settle back into my comfortable forward trajectory. I steal peeks at the side view mirror every now and then, watching with ambivalence as that once-hopeful exit slowly recedes into my past.

I see a “No U-turn” sign. Reconsider for the briefest-of-brief moment.

“Eh, probably nothing exciting back there anyway,” I say aloud to myself, trying to sound convincing.

My gaze drifts to the the rear-view mirror once again. I shift in my seat, leaning to the right for a better angle. There’s a middle-aged stranger staring back at me. One perched on the brink of AARP eligibility.

I quickly avert my eyes, pretend not to have seen. Re-position myself in my seat, settling back into that comfortable position that’ll allow me to keep plodding right along. Daydreaming always. Thinking about the next exit. THAT is where I’ll make my escape. That is where I’ll make my change. Unless the car breaks down, runs out of gas, or, worse yet, fails completely. Unlikely given its age and sorta regular maintenance.

An irregular, soft rumble to my left followed by a loud snort draws my attention. My passenger, asleep beside me, almost woke himself again. I could poke him, shake him, maybe just cough. Somehow wake him up and say, “Where do you want to go?” Demand that he give me an answer. An idea. Even a hint of a suggestion.

I let him sleep. I know what his answer will be.

“I want to go wherever you are going,” he’d say. Or something to that effect. And that’s not a bad thing.

April 3, 2016April 3, 2016

Just Not Right in the Head

Late last year, I shared a little with y’all about my “episode” with depression (here and here.

As I was cleaning my office today, I found the notes I’d written as I prepared that second post. A post which had ended optimistically on an upswing. With me coming out of the gloom.

Unfortunately, the monster is back. In a nutshell, things are a bit overcast around here right now. But I’ll be okay.

If foul language offends you, you should stop reading NOW. Really. Like, close your browser and move on to brighter things.

You see, I REALLY wanted to title this post “Damn. Fuck. Shit. Piss.” But then I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to warn folks about the language. That big F bomb would have exploded right in their face.

This whole thing is very frustrating. I’m not sitting around, feeling all sad and mopey. Or feeling sorry for myself. There have been no tears, only fleeting thoughts of death (totally normal for people like me), some moodiness, and some anger. Yet it’s clear to me that I’m just not right in the head.

I’m not a drama queen, or a whiner. I’m not a hypochondriac. But I usually pay attention to my body. After the aforementioned episode last year, when I actually realized I’d been depressed AND figured out that it was mostly due to hormonal changes, I did a bit of research.

Guys, I have to delve into women things a bit here. It may be unpleasant, but it also might help you understand the women in your lives better. If you want to stop reading now, that’s cool.

People joke about things like PMS (premenstrual syndrome) and menopause a lot. So much so, in fact, that even I think of women with PMS as moody, cranky bitches. And I imagine hot flashes to be the worst part of menopause. There’s so much more to both conditions, however. Things that aren’t talked about enough to be widely understood.

I’m not going to get all scientific on y’all, I’ll just say that hormones, and their fluctuations, are largely what make PMS and menopause so much fun.

All women are affected differently (as in experiencing different symptoms) and to varying degrees. The Mayo Clinic says…

“PMS has a wide variety of symptoms, including mood swings, tender breasts, food cravings, fatigue, irritability and depression. Symptoms tend to recur in a predictable pattern. But the physical and emotional changes you experience with PMS may vary from just slightly noticeable all the way to intense.”

Those clinicians also estimate that about 75% of menstruating women have experienced some form of PMS. Notice they don’t mention things like cramps (which really CAN be debilitating), bloating, back pain, headaches, etc., because those are all associated with menstruation, not premenstruation. As in the time leading up to the actual menstrual event, which, by the way, can last up to a week (or longer, for some unfortunate ladies).

I never really had bad PMS, but my periods have been horrible for as long as I can remember, slowly getting worse with age. I’ve been looking forward to menopause for a very long time, fearing only the hot flashes. I mean, I hate to be hot even under normal circumstances.

I’ve heard a bit about perimenopause over the years. It’s a term I’ve heard tossed around. I’ve probably seen it in print, too, but never paid much attention because I didn’t think it applied to me. I understood it enough to know it means the span of time before menopause actually hits. I imagined it would be a month or two.

Those same Mayo experts say…

Perimenopause means “around menopause” and refers to the time period during which a woman’s body makes its natural transition toward permanent infertility (menopause). Perimenopause is also called the menopausal transition.

“Menopausal transition” sounds so nice, and mild, and gradual. As if one will be eased into the more-unpleasant big M phase. But, during this lovely transition, one’s level of estrogen (the main female hormone) rises and falls unevenly. Depression can actually get worse, especially during that dreaded time of the month. And perimenopause can last for years.

YEARS. Ugh.

People like me who have experienced depression in the past are more susceptible to depression during PMS, perimenopause, and menopause. Symptoms of depression during those times are also often worse for women who have experienced depression in the past.

Gosh, does the news get better? It’s not a fatal condition. It won’t kill me. Not as long as it continues to be treated, anyway.

I started feeling “off” again over the last month or so. Not nearly as bad I felt last Fall. I guess because I’ve been taking anti-depressants. But I knew things still weren’t quite right. It’s hard to explain. The signs were subtle to me, but they were there. Reduced levels of patience, mild irritability and a bit of insomnia, not wanting to talk to people, less interest in activities I typically enjoy. I had my doctor up my anti-depressant dose. It didn’t help as much as I thought it would/should. So I guess it’s time to think about hormones. Maybe that will help.

That’s probably way more info than any of you wanted to read. But it’s the only way I know to explain the real reason I’ve been neglecting my blog. I’ve been neglecting my family and friends, too. And I’ve fallen into yet another spell of not wanting to read much, on-line or otherwise. It’s not that I don’t care about y’all. I do. Really. But it’s all I can do to get through each workday. Once I’m done for the day, I just cannot bring myself to spend another second looking at a computer screen.

It’s weird. And frustrating. I’m not one to talk about my feelings, mental or physical. So it’s especially hard to explain my current state of mind, which again came on gradually.

I’m not looking for sympathy. It’s not THAT bad. It’s just very weird, and a little unsettling, but mostly it’s frustrating. It’s this unusual limbo where I fluctuate somewhere between feeling not-quite-normal and batshit crazy. Fortunately, I’m closer to not-quite-normal more often than I’m at the other extreme. What’s really frustrating is that there’s no obvious cause beyond the old hormonal fluctuations. So I’m feeling what others with invisible illnesses feel. A little crazier because no one can see or is aware of any specific condition or event that would cause me to be depressed. A little guilty because I have absolutely nothing to be depressed about. (Okay, maybe a lot guilty.) Heck, I still feel sort of ridiculous even saying that I’m depressed.

But, I’ve said it. There, it’s out. Don’t worry though, it’s usually manageable. More a perpetual state of my feeling “not quite right in the head” than completely fucked.

I’ll survive. Really. And I’m not looking for sympathy. I just wanted y’all to know what’s been going on. I guess I AM asking for something. Your patience. I feel like I’ve been a bad friend, and a bad parent. It’s not that I don’t love you all, really. There’s just something askew in me that I am trying hard to correct. I’m hopeful that the real me will be back soon.

March 21, 2016March 21, 2016

The Machida Connection

According to this world population clock (which must be completely accurate because it’s on the Internet), there are about 7.4 billion people living in the world today. Thank goodness they’re spread across the globe and not all concentrated on one continent.

Our world is a big place, but it’s small in some ways, too. There are threads that connect us to people, common ties that bind. Not just blood ties and physical connections, but common interests and beliefs that unite some of us in unique ways.

When I started this blog in 2008, it was primarily meant to serve as a place to document our travels. It’s morphed into something better, broader, and it’s enriched my life in ways I would not have thought possible eight years ago when I began this little endeavor.

Bloggers are a unique bunch. We put ourselves out there on a regular basis, sharing snippets of our lives, pieces of our dreams, pictures of our fantasies, loved ones, and general surroundings, pathways into our hearts and minds. Some are more-revealing than others. Some are more eloquent and/or funnier, heartwarming, bolder, braver, literary, frank, obtuse, reserved… the list of adjectives could go on and on.

Not everyone “gets” the why behind wanting to maintain a web presence such as this. And not all bloggers blog for the same reason. Having this blog has connected me with a wide group of people collectively referred to as my MotoBlog Buddies. Most have blogs, too (see the links in the sidebar). Many are in North America, but there are some in Europe, Australia, New Zealand. I don’t think I know anyone in South America, but it’s hard to tell because not all people who read blogs like to leave comments.

This circle of motobloggers into which I have somehow been adopted is a diverse, fun group of people. I’m honored to be considered one of them. And glad I haven’t been ousted due to my recent lack of motorcycle content!

I have always enjoyed meeting new people. As long as I can remember, anyway. Getting a glimpse into their lives, learning what drives them, what worries them, what makes them happy or sad. Listening to their stories. Sharing their joys, and their pain. Seeing their pictures. Laughing with them. Crying with them, too.

Geographically speaking, my MotoBlog Buddies cover a pretty wide area. Yet we’re all connected through our blogs thanks to at least three common interests… motorcycling, storytelling, and photography.

Every now and then, the moon, stars, and/or some other cosmic forces align and some of us get the chance to meet in person. Yesterday was one of those days.

Richard_and_ToadMama — Richard (of Richard’s Page) Machida and Me

I’d been excited about the event for weeks, but didn’t want to mention it for fear of jinxing the plan.

Richard lives in Fairbanks, Alaska with his charming wife, Bridget, who I also got to meet yesterday. Hubby Mike came along, too. It was brief visit over lunch near the airport from which they departed yesterday afternoon. (They were in the area to visit Bridget’s Dad who is in an assisted living facility in Elizabethtown, PA, which, oddly enough, happens to be MY Dad’s hometown. More small world connections.)

As expected, they were both very nice people. Our “quick” lunch stretched into two hours! It felt like about 30 minutes, though. I probably talked too much, as usual, and asked too many questions. But there were so many info gaps in my mind to be filled.

I first “met” Richard when he served as troubleshooter for our mutual motoblogger friend, Bob (now deceased), who was having trouble posting comments to my blog. Bob was a frequent poster of comment here. Not being able to get his word in was painful for him. And frustrating for me. Richard helped, and I’ve sort of known Richard ever since. I got to know him a bit more during the month of February, since he participated in my do-a-post-every-day-in-February challenge (yes, I failed miserably).

Richard is a hardy guy. He rids his Ural rig (motorcycle with sidecar attached) year-round. In Fairbanks, Alaska! In the COLD, snow, and ice. That must be why he looks like he’s in his 40s even though he’s retired. (Bridget did say she’ll have to keep working forever to pay for all the Ural repairs. LOL.)

When Richard mentioned my lack of moto-related content lately, me saying “it’s Winter!” really sounded like a lame-ass excuse.

I’m still in a rut. But I am slowly, surely clawing my way out. Spring has arrived. That should help. And meeting folks like Richard and Bridget in person go a long way toward perking me up, too. AND, guess what? There are one or two more motoblogger meetups in my near future. Yes, I’m excited.

Years ago, I used to think of my blog followers as the people in my computer. Now I know better. These people are real, and they’re friends. Whether or not I meet them all in person, we still have that connection. We are still part of each others’ lives, even if we’re only connected virtually. We give each other an audience. Other people who care about the same sort of stuff enough to keep reading, keep following along (some through more than one medium), keep cheering each other on, even when we do stray from two-wheeled topics.

For more on yesterday’s meet-up, including spouse pics, check out Richard’s post.

Whether you are a motoblogger or not, I want you to know that I appreciate each and every one of you followers. Thanks for following. I look forward to sharing more adventures with you in the future.

March 19, 2016

BBBC #28 Childhood Photo

As I flipped through my Mom’s old photo album, looking for a childhood photo of myself to post, I couldn’t help but think about my family, and my childhood, and time’s relentless march. Not all of the memories are good ones, but I seem to have survived okay. And, like time, I keep marching on.

I couldn’t pick just one image, surprise surprise.

Sorry for the poor quality. These are pictures of pictures. My scanner isn’t communicating with my computer at the moment and I don’t have the patience to try and figure out why.

Kathy_age_1-2 — I think this was around age 2, but am not sure.

Kathy_age_3 — Pretty sure I’m 3 in this pic.

That pic was taken while I was in kindergarten. I remember that haircut. I HATED it. I think I hated it more because it was called a “pixie cut” than because of the way it looked.

Kathy_age_6-7 — Guessing I was 6 or 7. Still had my baby teeth.

Kathy_age_9 — Age 9.5 for sure. The US bicentennial photo.

I made that T-shirt. Well, I decorated it anyway. That heart was a free iron-on that came in my Mom’s Woman’s Day magazine. I remember the oddest stuff.

Yes, the quality of that image is especially poor, but I had to share it. I LOVED that pogo stick. I remember one time when I was counting jumps, I got to over 1,000 without stopping. I don’t remember the exact number, but I know it was over 1,000. Momentous accomplishments such as that are hard to forget.

Fast-forward to age 15. The beginning of my second year in high school.

I may have felt like a grown-up, but, looking back, I know I was still a kid there. A Mom at age 22. Think of all the girls who have babies even younger. I canNOT imagine…

I hope y’all enjoyed that whirlwind tour through my childhood.

March 12, 2016

BBBC 27 – Specific Selfie

It’s sort of obvious that I am still playing catch-up, so I decided not to mention that particular fact any more. Okay?

I’ve never really liked the way I look in pictures. I guess my image of myself is just different than reality. But that’s okay.

I do take a lot of selfies, relative to some people, but they’re usually sort of wacky and fun (I think) and rarely show my whole face. Thursday, I did one for the Challenge.

I hate it. It’s silly, really. I know this. I mean, that’s me.

I AM getting older. I do have wrinkles. I am carrying around more body weight than I should be. I don’t wear make-up. I’m a casual dresser. But my body and its accouterments are just a vessel. If I looked like a lovely princess, I’d have to act like one. And I’d be willing to bet I enjoy life more than a stuffy ole princess. I even have my own Prince Charming.

Speaking of which, or whom…

We’ve had a bit of nice weather recently. Nice enough, in fact, that my PC and I went for a motorcycle ride on Thursday. Woot!!!

It was awesome. We rode out to Flint Hill to the Griffin Tavern and ate dinner on the patio. In March.

Afterward, knowing I hated the selfie I captured earlier, I asked the prince to take a picture of me for this post. Here’s what he captured.

Does that mean my handsome prince loves his motorcycle more than me?

Nope. It means he’s a smart-ass. I love him anyway.

Then he captured this lovely image.

My hair is really getting long. Soon, I’ll try an experiment. If it fails, I’ll just revert back to short, sassy, and very low-maintenance.

If it’s a success, I think there may be more selfies to come.

Happy Saturday, everyone!