“Houston Police Chief Art Acevedo, president of the Major Cities Chiefs Association, said he worried that the lack of preparedness was rooted in police’s perception of the crowd. He said officers might have seen a largely White group as inherently less hostile.”
No. Really?
Nothing like logging in and getting a note from HR that a fraudulent unemployment claim has been filed with your name and apparent Social Security number. (The employer and I are both reporting it to the state.)
Is there some sort of DC law against inciting violence? Presidential pardons don’t cover DC criminal charges, right?
I know I’m not the first to think this, but I sense that if these were BLM protesters, we’d see water cannons blasted through the Capitol in a New York minute.
I am morbidly obese. And on Monday, I have my first appointment with a bariatric doctor.
This is a long time coming. Too long. And I don’t even care that much anymore about the appearance and clothes-fitting parts of this. Between being particularly susceptible to COVID-19 illness and generally being more conscious with age of my mortality, it was time to take a step beyond half-assed commitments to everything from Weight Watchers to intermittent fasting.
I’m not looking into weight-management surgery; I want to explore nonsurgical options. I found that despite the horror show of colonoscopy prep last summer, the clear-liquid diet actually provided some gut relief and left me feeling physically better. Not sure whether a liquid diet is an option with the clinic I’m visiting, though.
Lately, I’ve been drinking a green tea kefir smoothie in the mornings, shaken in a Blender Bottle, that keeps me going until the early afternoon:
That and water (or VitaminWater Zero) keep me sated and energized till I find myself craving something like chips or cookies or whatever after my 2 p.m. meeting. Trying to be better with healthier options.
It probably doesn’t help that we eat dinner pretty late. Granted, I don’t eat nearly as much at the dinner table as I used to (rarely seconds, and I’m more adamant about a simple salad at the outset), but I have slightly more of a sweet tooth afterward. And eating only 2 to 3 hours before bedtime probably isn’t a good idea.
My pelvic floor dysfunction diagnosis last summer, and subsequent physical therapy in the fall, got me much more conscious about my food intake and overall health. I’m much more aware of links between my abdominal pain and my bowel and bladder activity, as well as the importance of gut health. I feel like I’m on the verge of something.
I’m not completely free of my abdominal pain, but I know what causes it, and how to relieve it through mild exercise. Now if I can only be free of my chronic lower back pain.
I look forward to talking with the doctor about all this Monday.
I love my husband –and even like him – but somehow this blog headline just spoke to me: “If Your Spouse Is Annoying the Shit Out of You During Quarantine, You Are Not Alone.”
So, I ended up on some right-wing Catholic organization’s mailing list and got a magazine in my mailbox today. Between the articles and the accompanying letter listing in detail the way the current pope is destroying the Church (not to mention the world), I was done with this mailing in all of 2 minutes.
I took the letter (addressed to “Mr. Joyce Garcia”) and promptly scribbled, “PLEASE REMOVE ME FROM YOUR MAILING LIST” across the top, added the postscript “God bless Pope Francis,” signed it MS. Joyce Garcia, and put it in the included envelope — with my own stamps so I pay for my own enraged reaction — for mailing tomorrow.
(I think I also tucked into the envelope the little form they included to accommodate banking information to allow them to siphon donations from a bank account.)
Look, I may have my differences with the present pope (as I have with every pope of the past several decades), but the level of vitriol and calumny leveled against him is out of control. And calumny and its sister sin, detraction, are cut from the same cloth of evil. Both are sins when directed against anybody, but especially against the Holy Father.
The Church has enough problems without having to deal with divisive conspiracy theorists among its members spewing rage and hate.
Fingers crossed.
There needs to be a way to achieve Happy Time (that is, my creative and reading time) and enough sleep within a 24-hour period.
It’s almost 2 a.m., and I am catching up on journaling, almost nailing down my 3 words for the year, and watching birds and squirrels on a YouTube video apparently intended for cat viewing.
Being up so late before the first day back to work after a holiday is insane. Yet this creative time alone in the wee hours, with only virtual birds and squirrels to keep me company in my home office, is also some of the happiest time I’ve had all weekend.
The husband, upon hearing that the Bears lost but still managed to get into the playoffs: “How many times do you have to shoot a bear before it goes down?”
I hate Facebook with every fiber of my being.
But I also hate the Bears, ice storms, and coronavirus. I’m stuck with their existence and have to come to terms with them, too.
I have thought numerous times about pulling the plug and deleting my Facebook account. The anti-Facebook crowd that drives this blogging platform I use would say it’s the only way to go. But there are people who are dear to me on Facebook (and its sister platform, Instagram), and I don’t see them removing themselves anytime soon.
Over the past couple of years, I have distanced myself from Facebook, posting sporadically at best and lurking occasionally. It did me a lot of good to break my addiction to the site; it fed a compulsion to compare my paltry lives to that of others, reminded me that there’s too many stupid people out there, stoked my desire for the attention of “likes,” and stole too much precious time.
In recent months, I’ve tiptoed back into the fray, only posting maybe once or twice a week, if that. When I feel myself growing anxious about something I posted (i.e., being bothered by no “likes” or being annoyed by an obnoxious comment), either I delete whatever comment annoyed me or delete the post entirely.
These days, I’ve found an excellent reason to use Facebook. There are numerous groups devoted to rallying snail mail enthusiasts to send cards and notes to people who need good cheer: sick kids, anxious or otherwise troubled kids, lonely or ill seniors, others who could use a kind or encouraging word. As I’ve been charging into a snail mail habit that I hope to develop throughout the year, this is a perfect use of an otherwise insidious social media platform.
The only pitfall here, besides the fact that I’m pulled back into the Zuckerberg vortex of online traffic, is that I’m now buying greeting cards and postcards in bulk. But it’s worth it if it means sending a stranger a little bit of kindness. And I’m enjoying it.
Even Facebook can be redeemed. Somewhat.
At the end of the prayer of Spiritual Communion, the priest in today’s video Mass from Holy Name Cathedral in Chicago added, “And may the Bears beat the Packers.”
I’m not sure that’s what St. Alphonsus Ligouri had in mind when he composed that particular prayer.
This came in the mail today. Thanks @jmaxb for the recommendation!
Staying up to think about the concept of “digital gardening.” Throwing some links into the soil of this post so I can have them on hand to read and consider over the next few days.
So far, 2021 has been uneventful at best. Praying it stays that way for a while.
Spending part of New Year’s weekend getting back in a snail mail groove as I reactivate my Postcrossing account and send random cards and letters to friends and strangers.
Also sporadically dipping my toes back into the Micro.blog timeline. Happy New Year.
All is quiet on New Year’s Day.
(Photo taken through the screen of our bedroom window)
Twenty-three holiday packages later (all sent by Priority Mail), only three can be classified as painfully late in the USPS system. That’s not a bad deal given the season, the pandemic, and the horror show that worsened under politicized Postal Service leadership.
Meanwhile, I am rediscovering the joys of snail mail and hoping that my love of analog written communication will last well into 2021.
Lately, I’ve taken to printing out articles from subscribed (that is, paywalled from the general public) sources and dropping them in the mail with a short letter or sticky note. It takes a bit more engagement than just linking to things in an email, plus I like the more directed one-on-one connection as opposed to the blasted-into-the-ether mode of social media and blogging. I forgot how much I enjoy sending out mail—and getting mail myself.
I’ve also reactivated my Postcrossing account and returned to my League of Extraordinary Penpals membership (and updated my database entry there for other members) after a lengthy hiatus.
Perhaps a balance of both blogging/social media and snail mail is the way to go for me in the coming year.
This is how I troll.
I hate when I can’t remember whether I took the painkillers I intended to take.
“Dear Santa,
“We would have left cookies and milk, but we have a cat who doesn’t know how to keep his paws to himself. I hope you accept this sticky note instead.
“Frannie”
(We put out cookies and eggnog after she went to bed anyway.)
We’ve been terribly off this Advent season, which makes sense in a calendar year that has made no sense whatsoever.
We lit our Advent candles each night and got our Christmas shopping done. Beyond that, we barely did much in the way of holiday decor. We ended up getting a small, sparkly white fake tree to go with our modest parol in the living room window; we brought down one box of Christmas decor with enough ornaments to dress up this 3-foot fake tree, and somehow it finally felt like Christmas.
No Christmas Eve Mass for the first time in forever, either. It doesn’t feel right, but the archdiocesan dispensation during the pandemic has me okay with us praying through the Mass readings and midnight Mass on a screen if it means feeling safe from contagion.
It’s not a perfect Christmas Eve by any means. But we’ll make do, and thank God for it all. With a glass of coquito tonight and half a churro for dessert. Merry Christmas.
Okay, so I only got four small packages shipped, made a batch of mint fudge, and sorted through one box of Christmas stuff to find enough ornaments for our tiny tree this year. Also, Frannie and I went to confession.
The rest of the time, I designed a Word letterhead template for myself and edited part of a blog post for a friend. (I need to finish that tonight.) Oh, and I’m still battling a terrible case of intestinal upset and back pain.
So much for the weekend to-do list. If I can stand it, I’ll get that blog post edit finished, wrap up a small edit due tomorrow for work, and hope I can handle work tomorrow. Right now, it doesn’t feel like I can.
I post occasionally on Reddit on my 12-year-old’s behalf. This is her entry in a contest on the Dragonvale subreddit. All digital.
A touch of digestive upset and lower back pain is keeping me from my Christmas to-do list. Could only handle a bit of salad, a few spoonfuls of mashed potatoes, and a glass of kefir at dinner.