My brother picked up our sister’s death certificate over the weekend. Cause of death: severe sepsis with acute organ dysfunction, with secondary causes being aspiration pneumonia and Covid-19 pneumonia. “Other significant conditions contributing” to death were acute renal failure, dysarthria (slurred speech) and late effect of hemhorragic stroke.
Seeing the certificate photo he sent was a major gut punch this morning.
Watching Shohei Ohtani put on that hideous jersey at this Dodgers news conference is making me physically ill.
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I’ve grown weary of being beaten over the head with the insistence that I do this or that to improve my health – the term “epigenetics” is particularly triggering for me – and live to be 100 or more.
If living until forever means nagging the people around me to be healthy, consuming only supplements and things I hate, and ending up alone and friendless, I’d rather die now.
Given the people who are barking at me incessantly about this, the term “narcissism” seems apropos here.
“… living to 100, even 120, may not equal a better life, especially if a fitter body isn’t accompanied by agency, hope or sharp cognition. There are ethical concerns as to whether it’s responsible to desire a century of life in a time of climate crisis, an expanding global population and an epidemic of loneliness, particularly if our partners and peers may not be there to share it. To some critics, the financial and time investments in a longer life — or, more precisely, the hope of a longer life — suggest an extended exercise in narcissism, so many more years of Me Time.”
I honestly had no idea I would be inundated with so many welcoming replies to this post. Swiftie Nation is powerful on Threads, and my fellow Gen Xers are particularly intense among them.
I am now midway through the Netflix “Reputation” concert film and creating a Spotify strategy to plow through the Taylor Swift catalog, thanks to the 150+ responses here.
It has been a pretty rough 2+ weeks for me, so the timing of this cheery new obsession is pretty darn perfect.
This is the ultimate burial of a lede. 😬
Lots of anguish among Padres fans about losing Juan Soto, but (a) it’s not like we’re lacking superstars without him, (b) we needed to lower the payroll and get some decent pitching, and (c) the $31M or so freed up in this trade could buy us a Jung-Hoo Lee or get a decent rental like the Second Coming of Gary Sanchez.
I’m sadder about the likelihood that Blake Snell ends up elsewhere.
Anyway, time to tune out the screeching NY media that won’t shut up about this. Onward.
Finally unwrapped my Spotify stats thingie for the year.
I have got to move forward. I realize that grief has no timeline, and that the whole “stages” thing is crap. But the brain fog has been insane, and I’m tired of being static.
Frequently used tools lately in My Comfort Toolbox
Ready to dig up from the bottom of the toolbox
Another wee hours post before bedtime. Grateful for texts, cards, social media posts, and email since my sister’s passing. Even more grateful to see friends face to face, as I did yesterday. (👋🏽 to G!) Slowly climbing out of a brain fog that worsened in the past week, thanks in part to all this.
I hate when you ask someone a purely rhetorical question (“Think my sister would forgive me if I don’t write her obit right now, because I just don’t have it in me?”) and they respond with something practical like you actually wanted an answer.
The New Guy got a hold of one of my hats — the one I wore while visiting my sister last month in the hospital — and made a significant dent in it.
Part of me is deeply annoyed. But then it was just a $10 hat I picked up at Walmart. I have more beloved hats. Things could be worse.
I did not need this, stupid fucking iPhone. Not today. 🥺
My sister passed away early this morning after a week of dealing with Covid and kidney failure as well as the after-effects of a stroke last spring. She would have been 67 years old on November 30.
Usually I write through losses as a way to grieve. But I don’t have it in me right now.
In your charity, please hold us in your prayers and thoughts. Can’t talk specifics, but we have been in a holding pattern of anticipatory grief this past week.
Blessings to all, whether you celebrate the holiday or not.
I spend a lot of time on Threads lately. Waiting.
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So much I want to write about right now: Tuesday night’s enrichment session for catechists at my parish; my health concerns; the “Friends” clip binging habit I’ve recently developed and really would like to break; and the passing of Padres owner Peter Seidler. But it’s 2 a.m. and it’s time for me to get to bed. G’night. Later.
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Life goal.
Currently fascinated with the BBC4 Shipping Forecast.
It’s apparently a British institution and a reliable way to lull people to sleep over there.
It reminds me of NOAA weather radio, which I still miss on the weather band radio on my first Forester – except the BBC announcers aren’t stiff and robotic like the NOAA broadcasts. In fact, the BBC voices are indeed incredibly soothing.
I still have no idea what much of the four-times-daily broadcast means, but I hope to learn – at least enough not to giggle every time I hear about the Isles of Scilly.
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All three of us are down with flu-ish symptoms after getting the Covid and flu vaccines yesterday. F stayed home this morning while I wrangled 18 First Communion students during CCD and Mass.
Also, here’s a cat.
Finally on Bluesky, thanks to a colleague who had an invite to share. Definitely feels like The Cool Media Kids’ Table found a place to land. At the very least, it’s definitely a better place than Threads for breaking news.
After lingering on it for a few days, I finally posted a couple of things; nothing major. I’ll likely just stick to my practice of mostly lurking there.
So, I’m revisiting my list of places where I spend my social media time:
Click the Linktr.ee part of the nav above to find some of these spots.
You know you’re tired when reading the subtitles on an anime episode is exhausting.