The Big DumpTruck

Throwing Little Thought Pebbles at Your Windshield Since 1996

Going Deep

Not Jack Handey-like Deep Thoughts, just a little interlude to unload my brain.

Not that we don’t all obsess with death, because I know we do, but I have as of late been thinking about it more than usual, and it has been dragging me down. If I still had all my girl organs I would say I was deep in PMS-land, but those have been dust for two years now.

I used to avoid posting certain things here because I knew my aunt was reading my website and she sort of became my primary audience. So I filtered a lot of thoughts and language. But we lost her last summer and that makes this a “safe space” again, but that is small comfort. I adored my aunt. She was everything wonderful (I can say that based purely on my own interactions with her. If she ran some sort of underground “Racists for Kitten Murder” group, I don’t want to know.

My endocrinologist died in April, and I just learned about it. I’m feeling a bit bereft with this one. I really liked the guy. Our last appointment was over the phone, so I didn’t get the in-person experience (which was great). I felt like a friend. I knew all his issues with the medical establishment and insurance companies (he went cash-only years ago). My prescriptions were fairly complex combinations of new drugs, and compounded drugs to meet precise amounts per his unofficial studies of how different treatments helped or hindered himself and everyone in his practice. He observed trends and solved problems I didn’t know were related to my thyroid. There isn’t possibly another person who will treat my symptoms the way he did, and now I have to face a future where I could spend the rest of my days being mildly symptomatic again. Living like that isn’t fun. I wish he’d taken my needs into consideration before allowing himself to die (I can only assume he was taken by illness, he was actually well past retirement age.)

We’re getting old. My parents are still alive, thank God and my mother’s ferocious insistence on controlling every bite of low fat, low sodium, small-portioned food my dad eats. As I ease into the age group that gets a discount on coffee at McDonalds, and the realization hits I’m never going to be the toast-of-the-town ingenue, the center of attention. Maybe I can still pull off the wacky matronly type, but I am getting into the invisible years (women of a certain age, especially if they aren’t thin and sexy, become invisible.)

I guess I need to ponder my remaining days, and how best to use them. I’ve become somewhat obsessed with RV shows and record several to the DVR. I watch the tiny house programs, knowing that I could never survive in 300 square foot shipping container, or use a composting toilet (I mean, maybe I could, but the idea scares me) but do think it’s cool to just take your shit with you wherever you go (literally). I still have to work another 20 years, if I want a chance at not dying in poverty, so maybe I won’t hit the road quite yet.

Is this is my midlife crisis? If so, good news, everyone! I’m going to live to be 104!

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My Christmas Card

I know it’s after Christmas, but you know you very much want to hear the story of how a photo of me posing with a shark and an Ewok was my official Christmas Card this year. You have your cold beverage ready? Okay.

So a million years ago or two or so years ago (one of those) my sister and her family went to Disney during the flower and garden festival. They posed in front of a Miss Piggy topiary that a person that may or may not be my boyfriend confused for an Ewok.

So I used an iPhone app I owned (KnockOut) to “fix” it after my sister said “I was looking to see if there was an Ewok in the photo with us and Miss Piggy. This combination would have been fabulous and makes me laugh just thinking about it.” So of course I had to add one to that photo.

I added him to a lot of additional photos from their vacation. They started leaving space for me in the photos, so I added myself (and others) because they didn’t take me with them.

Apparently one of my sister’s co-workers (Cathy) was very amused by me adding myself to their vacation photos (something I continued to do on subsequent vacations). In fact, she started asking where I was when my sister or her husband posted new ones. Here I am on a rope swing in Hawaii, I believe.

This December, Cathy, a person you will remember I have never met, posted a photo on FB showing the first three people who had sent her a Christmas card. Because my sister was tagged in the photo, I saw it. Now is it my fault she left a giant hole right in the middle, inviting someone like me to fill it? So I ran to the Knockout app, found a background of something Christmassy, added myself and and ewok, then added it all to her photo.

My sister’s neighbor Beth saw it and demanded “I HAD BETTER GET ONE OF THOSE!” so I had to print them out and stick them in cards for people, my first Christmas cards in years. And that’s the real story of the Happy Holiday Shark. And Ewok.

 

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Goal: More than 5 Posts in 2017

My Big DumpTruck game was awful in 2016, which is probably a very bad thing, because it was the 20th anniversary of the darned thing. Can we have a do-over? I know a lot of celebrities and millions of voters who would like another shot at doing 2016 right.

If I promised to be better about writing, will you be better about reading?

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Thanks, Amazon

Periodically I like to check to see what Amazon thinks it should recommend to me. I am a frequent shopper, more than I should be for convenience sake. I cannot afford a personal assistant so I make do with an Internet connection and a combination of the USPS, FedEx and UPS. 

I will admit I purchased some unusual items in preparation for my cruise. Unusual in that I normally don’t have much of a need for waterproof items, but I did a month or so ago. I also bought some items we were recommended to bring on the trip to decorate our cabin door. You know, not my normal dog food, camera equipment and makeup remover purchases.

Let’s see how that tweaked Amaxon’s recommendations for this March day: 

  
Okay. Emoji stamps and a Mother Goose hat. Date night has never looked more exciting, has it boys?

Now that I think about it, putting poop emojis on things at work would be a nice stress reliever. Hey! Cafeteria at work! More 🍟🍺and 🍪 and less💩! 

Let’s scroll down a little to see if it gets normal.

  
Guitar strap. Interesting assumption, that after buying all those cello accessories I might need a guitar strap for it. Taken under advisement.

But the piece de resistance is the High Quality No Pocket Unisex Uniform Vest. You guys got that recommendation too, right? That has to be exactly what all the cool moms are wearing to the office these days. I am just assuming there are people out there placing ordering for both vitamins AND kicking purple work vests. Because nothing says dedication to your role as a cog in the machine than a spur-of-the-moment decision to purchase a purple uniform vest independent of your job’s normal dress code. 

I think pairing it with the hat will really show them my promotability! I did a quick search and yes, I can also order my own name tag. I shall have my name and “Power-Mad Demagogue” etched underneath. I can’t wait to put the whole outfit together!

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Countdown to Vacation

I’m so very ready for my vacation. I’ve had enough of work, and of stuff going on outside of work. The way things have been going, I assume while I’m away my home will be destroyed by a bus-sized chunk of blue “airplane ice.”

But I shall take my chances and hope Captain Stubing steers away from any hurricanes we stumble upon, and I’ll give my now adult son <gasp> the keys to the swinging singles pad, with the assumption it won’t be overrun with garbage and vermin by the time I return. 

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