Saturday, April 19, 2014

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Dear Neighbor,

Go, girl! Gettin' some on weekends! And your boyfriend is an early riser! (Pardon the pun.) Saturday morning, 6 am. Like clockwork. 

You must know I know... Right? 

Yeah, well that headboard bump, bump, bumping into the wall? That's my wall too. So when the bumping and banging (oops, sorry, another pun just slipped in...and again) gets faster and louder? It wakes me. My white noise machine (brilliant invention, by the way) generally blocks most of your conversation and music, but the headboard banging against my wall and those final three moans? I hear it all.

Awkward? Well, I guess we're all adults. But it definitely falls into the Too Much Information category. And really? Come on, now (last one, I promise)! It may be a little disingenuous, too. You must be in your twenties. (Definitely younger than 34, as my friend EPK would say.)

But I digress. 

Even if we can agree to move past the awkwardness, I'd really rather not hear it. I like to sleep late on weekends. Six a.m. is a bit too ambitious for me. So if you wouldn't mind moving your bed to another wall, I could sleep right through all the theatrics. And what happens in your bedroom has a better chance of staying there.  

Sweet dreams! 
Joanne from across the hall. 

Friday, April 11, 2014

Photo Journal: The Future?


I hope I live long enough that sequined slippers count as shoes. 
And my friends are okay with it. 
And I remember to put my napkin on my lap. 

Sunday, March 16, 2014

My Week in a Word: Dark

I know that the sun sets later now that we turned our clocks forward an hour, but at this point in the school year I prefer my light in the morning, when I'm getting ready, when I'm driving to work. 

It has been black as night in the morning when my alarm goes off for school. Even yesterday when I woke up on my own at 6:30, an hour later than my alarm goes off during the week, I looked up through my skylight and would have thought it was still the middle of the night. 

Eventually I'll get around to taking advantage of the light evenings, but getting up in the dark again leaves me too fatigued to enjoy them for now. 

Friday, March 7, 2014

My Week in a Word: Exhausting

If there has been another week that in the past I have dubbed exhausting, I assure you it was a walk in the park compared to this week. 

But it is over and I am okay.  It is 5 pm. I'm home in my pajamas with my feet up and with take out sushi in the refrigerator while I enjoy an apple martini and wonder why I wasn't prepared for middle age to be this way.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Girl Talk (for Mature Audiences)

WARNING: This post contains candid conversation about lady bits and their (failing) functions. I will definitely use the word menopause. And may will mention "menstrual periods." But I will also do my best to make you laugh while wincing.

So I have not yet gotten around to telling you about my cataracts (yes, I said cataracts), but this newest middle age woe cannot wait on the post list (because we know how well that's been going lately) (and by that I mean not well at all).

For several years, per my doctor's orders, I managed dysmenorrhea (that's Biology teacher/teen counselor speak for "really awful periods") with birth control pills. Also per her prescription, I skipped placebo weeks and went back to back with pill packs so that I only had to have 4 not-so-bad periods a year. It was nothing short of a wonder drug.

But a little over a year ago, I struggled with a decision to stop taking the pill. I was closer to 50 than 40 and wondered if maybe I could go au naturel. I knew my mom went through menopause early; maybe I would, too. Sweating episodes (see Hot Mess Redefined) certainly suggested that other hormonal sh*t was already underway.

So I stopped taking the pill. As expected I had a period right after. But barely.

Months went by. No sign of Hideous Awful Periods (HAPs).

More months went by. No HAPs. Not even any normal ones.

Could it be?

Should I talk about it? But I'm not even 50!

So I decided to keep it to myself...mostly. (Meaning I told Jill and Deanna, Tamara and Amy, and Mandy.)

Then last weekend, I got to thinking it had been a whole year, which according to most sources makes it official. So I looked it up in my journal. Yep! Exactly a year! Done. Finito! Menopause! Bu-bye, HAPs!

When I met Mandy out for lunch later that afternoon we toasted to the end of menses (Bio teacher word for "periods".) Woo hoo! Right?!

Yeah, we'll, this isn't a happy ending.

Because the very next day my uterus decided to gasp for air and come to life again.

AAAAAUGHHH! What is that?! And why is it on my panty liner????

Please let this be a joke, Mother Nature, one last hoorah. And I promise never to toast to the demise of my endometrium again.




Monday, February 24, 2014

I Love It, I Love It Not...The Polar Vortex

My memory could be failing me (why should my vision and bladder have all the fun?) but I can't remember the last time we had a winter this cold. Yes, this is New England, and I am a native New Englander, ergo I am prepared for snow and cold, but it seems this year it is one cold snap after another cold snap. Multi-day, back-to-back cold snaps. It has been so cold that when it was a freakish 50 over the weekend, it felt balmy.

So call it Arctic blast, or Polar Vortex; it feels friggin' cold.
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