Last night

 

Me: What did you do last evening on your night off in Austin, TX, Julie?

Julie: Oh, nothing much, Mom. I played poker with Sean Lennon, Les Claypool and Harry Waters. What did you do?

Me:

Dinner with a few friends

 

Look at my daughter’s dinner companions.  Adrian Belew, Jerry Harrison, Les Claypool, Harry Waters, and SEAN LENNON excuse me I need to go breathe in a paper bag…

Tonight in Dallas

Tonight in Dallas: Julie Slick, Adrian Belew, and LES FUCKING CLAYPOOL!  My daughter and two legends…and I thought the Sean Lennon stuff broke my brain…

What’s this?!

What’s this? Oh, just Sean Lennon standing at the side of the stage the other night watching Adrian AND MY DAUGHTER play their set.

Oh my goddess. Julie called yesterday and broke both our brains with stories.  I know I’ve said it already, but the Beatles and particularly John Lennon were the closest thing Gary and I had to heroes as kids. For Julie to casually remark, “Sean sat next to me at dinner last night and we chatted about all kinds of stuff, even Paul McCartney!”

I repeat. Brain broken 😎

Odds and sods for May 24, 2023

So usually my blogposts are simply Facebook cross posts since I expect to eventually get kicked off of social media due to my I hate Donald and his evangelical Christian politics but today this is exclusive content here.  Why?  Because I’m also bored of Facebook and don’t feel like dealing with all the comments.  Also because no one reads this blog anymore and I want to write something I don’t want anyone to see, meaning the kids, though it is kinda funny and of course I will tell them but they’re both going on tour next week and I don’t want to freak them out.

But first, if they were still alive, today would have been my parents’ 70th anniversary.  Mind blowing, huh.  I literally have only ten or so photos total of my family, and this is the only one I have of my mother and father together.

The only one still alive in this photograph is my brother on the front row, he looks around 14 here.

That’s my mom and dad right behind him.  Next to my father is my first cousin, Rosalie.  She died in 1980 at age 30 from Hodgkins Disease a few years after this pic was taken.

Behind her is my first cousin Robbie.  He died at age 48 in 2000 from a heart attack.

Next to Robbie is his mom, my mother’s sister, my Aunt Shirley.  She’s the only woman in this photo who lived into her late eighties, dying of Parkinsons disease around 7-8 years ago.

I’m thinking this picture is from right before my mother got sick…she’s still got some weight on her and I am pretty sure that’s her real hair.  But oh, she must have been diagnosed with the brain tumor right after this photo was taken and a year later, gone.

Anyway, just recording this for posterity.

On to me and my latest holy fuck moment.

A couple of months ago, I noticed this weird thing happening only when I got into bed at night.  When I crawled in putting pressure on my right knee, it felt like I had a tiny shard of glass in my knee.  It’s the craziest thing.  My knee doesn’t hurt, even if I press on it, but when I put that whole pressure of my body on it kneeling, it feels like I have a splinter.

I even got out a magnifying glass and flashlight to see if I had a piece of glass there but nope.

I told Gary about it after a few weeks of having to get into bed a different way but we were high and we both bent over double laughing about my hypochondria.

But then, honest to god, my big toe on that same foot started hurting and omg, blew up to twice the size of my other big toe.

Again, I told Gary, and because the two of us are total children, we laughed and laughed.

Listen, we’re married 50 years.  Gary knows I am a hypochondriac and it really was funny.

Until the pain in my knee and toe woke me in the middle of the night and in a haze of sleep thought OH MY GOD WHAT IF MY WONKY HEART THREW A BLOOD CLOT AND IT’S IN MY LEG AND I’M GONNA HAVE A STROKE AND OR DIE.

So I got out of bed and hobbled downstairs in the middle of the night and sweating in terror, and googled “Why does it feel like there’s g…”

Before I could type the word, Google finished it for me.

“…glass in my knee”

I was like OH MY GOD, IT’S A THING?

Yes, apparently.  Along with the second symptom, a swollen big toe.

And the words CALL YOUR DOCTOR!

Fuckkkkkkkk.

So what these symptoms mean is that my kidneys are producing too much uremic acid.  The glass in my knee is actually a crystal my kidneys are producing in this condition and said crystal is lodged in my knee.

The reason for too much uremic acid?

Could be diet.

Leading bad foods?  Red meat, alcohol, fructose syrup, and too much dairy.

Welp, I don’t do the first three items at all.  Dairy, yes, but only 2-3 times a week.

Anything else?

Why yes.  Leading cause is taking statins to lower your cholesterol.

Ding ding ding!  We have a winner.

Long story short, I have gout.  Gout is actually “bony arthritis.”  

Here’s the hilarious part. I got terrified when I first got diagnosis because I get so scared at the doctor I got confused and thought gout was goiter and I thought I was going to grow a second head out of my neck like a circus freak. 🤦‍♀️

Anyway, I am fine.  I’m cutting my dairy yet again and taking another new daily medication.  That makes six.  Yay me.

Haha so glad no one but me still reads this unless I link it somewhere.  If you stumble on it, please don’t tell me 😂

Happy Mother’s Day

My mom has been gone for like 2/3 of my life and I never stop missing her ❤️

Quicksand

Last night when I couldn’t sleep—and yes I’m back to that again because I stopped listening to my husband’s assurances that Donald will never be president again and I seriously don’t think I will survive if that happens—anyway, last night when I was staring into that 2:00 am darkness with the pit of fear in my belly, I started reminiscing on being a kid growing up in the sixties and what terrified me back then.

My number one fear, and I don’t say this lightly, was falling into quicksand and being swallowed up.

Never mind that I grew up in a fully developed residential Philadelphia neighborhood. I was convinced every puddle was a death trap.

Clearly, I watched a lot of cartoons.  I mean, I have no other explanation. Which brings me to my number two fear, that a masked robber would climb up a ladder and open the bedroom window directly above my headboard, jump in and steal my Barbie dolls, and hit me over the head and try to kill me so I couldn’t identify him in a lineup.

Never mind that our home was a two story row house, the back of which was on an incline and faced another row of two story houses…in other words, no one could climb up said ladder without being noticed but it’s moot because no one would want to.  The neighborhood was basically lower middle class, which in the sixties meant your annual income was around $10,000.

To be honest, I didn’t even have real Barbies, I had mostly dime store knockoffs.

Heh.  The dime store.

Oy I am so old.

My final fear was being bombed by the communists, but only because we had air raid drills at school where we had to huddle in the gym.  I have to admit, I wasn’t nearly as afraid of the atomic bomb as quicksand and burglars since I was pretty sure between the cement windowless walls of the basement gym and staying quiet and perfectly still like the teacher instructed, I would be safe from nuclear disaster.

Anyway, this morning in the light of day I don’t feel as anxious, I know as long as I stay away from the news and live one day at a time, I will be fine.

I’m not gonna worry about Donald, anyway.  And my husband assures me that our Social Security checks won’t stop next month when the evil Republican Congress tries to cause a default because President Joe will save us.

Okay, whatever you say, but aren’t you also the person who’s been telling me since January 7, 2021 that Donald is going to jail?

Oh well. Like I said, I’m really not gonna worry about that or anything.  I can’t, I will go insane.

I’m gonna enjoy my Mother’s Day weekend and eat lots of cake and french fries.

I just really wanted to share my fear of quicksand.

Khachapuri!

So as if Gary didn’t have an awesome enough week in Seattle, last night our friend Sandra hosted a dinner party with fellow guitar crafties Igor and Curt at her extraordinary digs on the water. 

Igor is from Georgia so the menu included khachapuri, something I was not familiar with but now have to have immediately and I know there’s both a stand in the Reading Terminal and a new restaurant Sakartvelo that looks amazing at 7th and Chestnut so yes, khachapuri will soon be mine!   

https://www.saamisomi.com/

https://sakartvelo-restaurant.business.site/

After dinner the guitars came out and it was glorious.

The only time I have ever heard or seen Gary this happy is when he goes to Three of a Perfect Pair music camp in the summer.

I reminded him he could easily be this happy all the time, especially with the other half of our family in Nashville a/k/a music city.  

He didn’t say No like he usually does.  

Not by a longshot.

I’m telling you, my six months in each city plan is doable.  

Stay tuned 😎.

Today in Seattle

 

In this afternoon’s Seattle adventure, Gary was enlisted to fill in for an unavailable player on Julie’s softball team.

Gary:  “I played 3rd base and Julie played 2nd base and we turned a double play!”

Me:  “Oh my god, you’re kidding!”

Gary:  “Well, the ump said he was safe at 2nd base but trust me, he was out.”

Me, trying not to laugh:  “Did you guys at least win?”

Gary:  “No, and I got hurt twice.”

Me:  “What?!  Are you okay?  What happened?”

Gary:  “I hit the ball and fell flat on my face running to 1st base.  I ripped my pants and tore up my knee.”

Me, with literal tears of laughter dripping down my face but only because he started it and was laughing, too:  “But you’re okay?”

Gary:  “Yeah, I’m fine.  I just need some Advil and a bandage.  So then, I’m fielding at 3rd base, and the runner on 2nd ran into me trying to reach 3rd and knocked me down.  I couldn’t believe it.”

Me, at this point gasping for air laughing: “Again? Again you fell? But you’re fine, right?  Right? Because you sound fine.  Otherwise I wouldn’t be laughing like this.”

He’s fine.

Maybe you had to be me getting this call to find it hilarious, though now in retrospect I’m like holy hell, he’s 69, maybe he shouldn’t be doing stuff like this anymore.

Nah.  We’ve spent the last three years on the sofa.  Screw worrying.  And anyway, 69 is the new…whatever 😎

Fuck off

 Another day, another outrage.  Don’t worry, I’m on it.