Sunday, November 29, 2015

Being Mediocre

This weekend, I had a revelation. Charles M. Schulz was my father. I don't know why I didn't research this at a younger age so I could have met him before he passed away. This is really tragic and yet I found the answer to my black cloud.

I am Charlie Brown, only the girl version. Charlie can be a unisex name and I believe my father made him a boy in his comics because at that time, no one would read about a girl version. My university colors were even brown and gold. I even have the same brown man shoes.  Every episode is my life in some parallel universe.

I have three Snoopies.

Every day I walk into work, the office manager talks about my black cloud. She even looks like Lucy and has a jar for advice. It is getting increasingly difficult not to high five her face.

I am not a negative person despite my streak of bad luck. I really couldn't figure it out all these years because the rest of my family are super successful, able to support themselves, and travel the world.

Then there is me. With a genius mind and unending blockades. Or so I feel. My other father, Robert, even called me a "blockhead" as does my brother who looks a lot like Sally.  I have all these great ideas and no backing or no means to carry them out. So I have to remain mediocre.

In all fairness, I still am able to maintain great humor, but it really gets me nowhere except through life's troubles. After 2000, when my father, Charles Schulz passed from this life, I began to fade away in the minds of others, only to be rejuvenated during Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas when reruns are popular.

Where did Charlie Brown end up?

In Indiana.

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

#ADULTINGStruggles

Dear God,

It's me, Fargo.

I am ready to be an adult.


At least most times.


Could you take time out of your busy schedule to enlighten me?


I am struggling. I cannot seem to fully recover from my bad choices spree and "it sounded good at the time" theories. The stupid is strong with this one.


I'm also having a bad hair day.


Please help or send help.


Thank you in advance.


P.S. I have some questions that are really bugging me:

1. Why does your need to pee intensify when you are unlocking the door to the house or one foot away from the toilet and you get bound up in your pants trying to pull them down?
2. Why when you send assistance or advice, I screw it up or ignore it?
3. Why does my puppy continue to drag my underwear around the house even after my continual deterring of his pantie attraction and theivery? Is he a potential sex offender?

P.S.S. When you do send help, could you send me a picture of it on my iPhone like Uber and Safelite drivers do?

Thanks again for thinking of me.


Monday, November 2, 2015

The Greek Chubs

The closer I get to 50, the more I realize I am farther from 29. But who wants to think a 50 year old body can't behave like a 29 year old one? Well, no one. Reality? It does not exist. Who says? Me, for instance. My mind is decades behind my body as far as age and perspective.

After being in Greece for 8 days, I have adjusted back to American life. However, I am kicking and screaming all the way. The weather. The food. The life. It's all different! Erg.


But the freedom and casual life has been restored and work is in progress. Oh, I must either hit the lottery or be discovered. Yeah. Ok. So none of that is going to happen. Work it is. How many pennies do I have to pinch to save for a trip of a lifetime?

Yes, I need to win the lottery. BUT...I have to play to win. Ah, well, it was but a dream.

Being gone for several days did not leave me terribly homesick, but I did miss my daughter and my puppies and my family and friends. I knew I would see them again so I had to NOT waste one minute abroad.

Then...my planes landed...in the US...finally.

It's funny how the first 5 minutes upon entry to the front room to your home, your daughter globs onto you and tells you how much she missed you and  you feel loved....only to sass and backtalk several minutes later like you never left. It's so good that she is comfortable with her mother.

Or...the awkward arrival home to The Harry Potter House but it feels strange. It just took a few days to settle in.

And so did the Greek chubs. I gorged on the good Mediterranean life. And cheese. They have cheese at every meal and not to my dismay. I think it is the new chocolate. Hmmm mmm good. Me belly...me belly...me belly.!! Regrets? Yes! I should have ate more fried cheese balls with honey and sesame...and baklava...and emek.

Luckily, I chose mostly to walk around and didn't gain too much. I did lose my endurance and picking up running has been a challenge.  Needless to say, I am no Greek goddess, but in my mind, I look like this...


As well as the fitness goes so goes physical therapy. It has been a pending problem I chose to hold off until my arrival back home from Greece. My left side is numb and has been so for a few weeks. And the pain is almost unbearable when I try to use it above my shoulder. You can imagine my hair dos.
And so I struggle. "They" say I should be better once traction and massages release the pinched nerves. Oy. Release already. I can't afford to look like Phyllis Diller anymore.

So, it's time to be a mother again, shave off my big fat ass, and try to turn the clocks back. I'm not so worried about aging that I won't respect aging gracefully. Wait. Correction. I might fight it somewhat. With a little healthy choices.

Back to that Mediterranean diet....
Yummy.

And for the next week...we will have Greek fall weather. Bonus!

Oh, and in case you are wondering...the Greeks became fascinated with anatomy and nakedness and capturing movement in statues. All the Greeks are beautiful people.

Sound random? Sure. But everyone has to wonder about these things. I have more random. It abounds. Besides being masters of fresh food, they were obsessed with sex and nakedness during the Hellenistic period.

As I passed some of the great statuary, I was worried I was going to get my eyes poked out by some of those uncircumcised penises. It was quite dangerous. I can see why some of the women had big eyes.