Herein, I Say Minutiae and With Whom

I have been so involved with the minutiae of life that I haven’t had a spare moment to type up anything to bring this sucker up to date.

I know this minutia of life is so tedious, and irritating, and boring, but it is the minutia that makes up life.

The day to day is where we frame our lives. It may just be grocery shopping, dog walking, working out, scrubbing floors, folding laundry, but I spend most of my time in this manner.

The minutia is my life.

Of course, there are big moments, important moments, moments I will remember much longer and larger than scrubbing the kitchen floor, but the day to day shouldn’t be taken for granted. Or hurried. It should be enjoyed just like the huge moments of life.

How I treat the day to day, and those with whom I spend my day to day is what makes up the person I am.

In the end, I may not remember the day to day minutiae, but I will remember if I was happy in my day to day. And others will remember if I was loving in my day to day.

Don’t take it for granted. Even if it is just scooping poop.

Ok, maybe that is ok to take for granted, but not the puppy that pooped it out. (…lol…)

Stolen Lines #2 – Moving Back to a Ghost-Filled Neighborhood

"Ghosts definitely live here," I say.

I remember to the right is where my friend used to live. I would pick her up and we would go to the bar right there. Walking around looking to meet some guys.

That bar. Packed full of ghosts. Overflowing with them. Ghosts of a past where I was much more reckless, barely recognizable to this person I am now. Many, many, many nights spent drinking there, with friends who have since moved far away, and have stayed close, who have gotten married, had kids, stayed single, and those that still go to the bar, like no time has passed at all. Good memories, bad memories. Ghosts I welcome in my thoughts, ghosts I try very hard to forget.

Memories of the neighborhood party house remembered as I drive by, on my way to the grocery store, or Wal-Mart. Memories of a past life, with past friends collide with the mundane errands of this life.

Another house off another street. Where my ex used to live in this past life. His parents’ house? Just turn right there.

My parents lived down that road to your left. I never visited them, even though I lived just 20 minutes away. Regrets remembered as they now live 5 hours away.

The boarded-up grocery store where old ghosts/friends and I once attempted to buy beer at 10:00 A.M. Refused, we walked back to that ghost filled house down the street where I used to live.

I run into ghosts, while shopping, at fast food restaurants, at the library. Every where I turn, I fear running into someone from my past. Running into someone who remembers that all these ghosts exist, while I think of the ghost that they are.

In my present life, where the ghosts don’t exist, where they are shuffled back, away, in the deep recesses of a sometimes regret-filled, sometimes happy memory, I forgot all these ghosts existed. It was not until we bought the house, moved in, got comfortable, did the ghosts reappear. They hid out, never surfacing before the decision was made. Now, they are everywhere I go. Inescapable. Omnipresent.

I spent years away from this part of town, from this city even. Making new memories and meeting new people, who are now ghosts that exist in different spots and different states. Moving back to this area, has resurrected hundreds of ghosts, in every corner. I can’t hide from them.

Ghosts definitely live here, but now, so do I. I must make peace with the ghosts. Good and bad ghosts. They are in the past, but they are also a big part of me.

This is a part of Grace's experiment. I stole the first line of this post from You'll Never Eat Lunch in This town Again, by Julia Phillips.

Only Cute While Sleeping

Yesterday, on one of my 20 trips up and down the stairs to keep the dog from eating out of the litterbox, the dog stepped in front of me and I not so gracefully sprained my ankle trying to catch myself.

I was in such pain, began crying, and the stupid, evil dog, came running up to me and crawled into my lap, despite the path to the litterbox now being clear and there being no way I was going to stop him seeing that I was bawling from the searing pain in my ankle.

He sure can be sweet sometimes. Usually it is while he is sleeping though.

AND TURN THAT MUSIC DOWN YOUNG MAN!

A couple years back when I had my wisdom teeth removed, although I was totally out of my gourd, I was conscious throughout the entire process. When the surgery was over, I distinctly remember the look on the doctor’s face. He looked worn, he wiped his brow, took a deep breath and just sat back in awe of all he had accomplished. In my mouth. (That’s what he said). He looked tired and a bit surprised.

I went home and nearly died for 4 days before I had to go back to work. The right side of my face swelled up to the size of a grapefruit. I didn’t eat anything but mashed potatoes and mac and cheese from KFC for a month because I could barely fit a spoon in my mouth, much less chew. About 2 weeks after the surgery, I returned to the doctor who was extremely pleased to see me and the results. He was thrilled that I was ok.

BECAUSE! When I left his office the day of the surgery, he wasn’t overly confident of the whole affair.

It just so happened that I had a huge nerve wrapped all around the roots of my wisdom tooth.

He had to break up the tooth and gingerly pick out the pieces, praying that he didn’t sever the nerve. He was a bit freaked out after the surgery, hoping that he hadn’t damaged my face. To his credit, he didn’t.

I have been having problems off and on since my days in New Mexico. When Not Craig and I were working our butts off trying to run 5 miles non-stop (a goal which has never ever happened), I injured myself.

The pain would go away, but it would return if I started working out again, or if I crossed my legs, or if I fell asleep on my right side or if it was Tuesday.

It just kept reoccurring.

Not Craig has been telling me to go to the doctor since it started. I hate doctors. I hate waiting, I hate explaining my problem and I hate having to recall when my last period was even though I am there for a sore throat because, ahem, those 2 areas are NOT related.

Recently, I have been walking the dog twice a day, averaging about a mile and a half each walk. I would alternate running with walking in order to try to wear the dog out. Which is another post in itself because, hello, his breed herds sheep all day long, how is one human going to possibly provide a challenge to him.

When I woke up on Thursday, the old pain was back. It was mild, but it was there. I persisted and walked Colt that morning, but bowed out on the evening walk. Friday, I woke up and walked Colt with pain, lots o’ pain. Friday during the day, I went to the doctor. Finally, after a year and a half. I hurt.

The doctor took about 2 minutes of listening to me, rubbing my butt (which I am not so sure was as much a diagnostic tool as a girl-on-girl feel up) and diagnosed me.

Piriformis. My muscle is intertwined with my sciatic nerve. 10% of the population have this particular set up.

Seriously, it is otherwise known as Deep Buttock Syndrome. Ya’ll I wish I was just making this up. Fo Realz. Insert all the jokes you wish, Not Craig and I could use some new ones.

And plus? This condition is chronic. I can try to prevent it or minimize it, but I am officially diagnosed with a chronic condition of old lady-dom. I also can now be all crotchy and complain how my sciatica is killing me.

Point being, I have two nerve issues that are rare in the general populace.

Does anyone know of any other weird nerve issues where the nerves aren’t where they should be? I assume all my nerves are misplaced at this point and would like to have something specific to freak out about.