Monday, May 20, 2019

Literally Losing It



Here’s an interesting grammar tidbit I learned today:


The definition of the word literally has changed. Historically, literally meant “actually; without exaggeration or inaccuracy:” or “used to emphasize the truth and accuracy of a statement or description.”

But now, because so many people have used it incorrectly for so long, the dictionary has added a new definition: “used for emphasis or to express strong feeling while not being actually true.

Which means when I say it literally never rains it pours, it’s now unclear if I’m actually being literal or figurative. Which is actually kind of lucky because, in this narrow instance, I'm being both.

Figuratively speaking, I have a lot of rain in my life right now. Skin cancer, moving to a new house, getting the old house ready to put on the market…call me a drama queen but it’s a lot to deal with! Adding kidney stones to that mix is, in my humble opinion, a metaphorical “pouring” of epic proportions.

Particularly since the latest attack came as we were LITERALLY moving. After I got off work Saturday, Opie and I loaded up the car with  boxes and headed over to the new house. Then, when we were about a mile away, I got hit with a pain that was FIGURATIVELY like a small animal had somehow materialized in my guts and was earnestly attempting to eat its way out.

Good times.

Especially for Opie because as soon as we got to the house, I LITERALLY stumbled to the bedroom, shoved a couple pillows together (we hadn't moved the bed yet) and collapsed on the floor...though not before carefully positioning myself near enough the door that I could see what he was carrying in in order to yell encouraging suggestions to him.

This situation was not noticeably enhanced by the fact that the boxes I’d packed and intended to carry were not organized in an Opie-approved fashion. By which I mean, my boxes not only didn’t clearly identify contents but generally also only had things like “upstairs” or “downstairs” written on them

“Where does this go?” Opie would demand.

“It says upstairs,” I’d snap back.

And he’d be all “Where upstairs? Guest room? Office? Exercise room?”

“JUST TAKE IT UPSTAIRS!” I’d shout then. “I’ll figure it out later—UNLESS I FREAKING DIE RIGHT HERE ON THE FLOOR!”

It’s somewhat miraculous his head didn’t pop right off. (Figuratively sneaking of course).

But, speaking literally again, this is when the whole it never rains it pours thing came back into play. Because this was when the gentle rain turned into a torrential downpour. A “The Heavens Opened And We Should Think About Building An Ark” kind of downpour.  Which in its own right would have made moving difficult but was made significantly worse when the tornado sirens went off.

Take a moment and try to picture this moment of marital bliss…I’m lying on the floor, contemplating death, checking weather updates on my phone because we didn’t have television or computers set up yet, screaming at Opie to take shelter, and he is resolutely marching in and out of the house with boxes in his arms, muttering under his breath…no doubt speculating on how boring his life was before I popped into it.

“Twitter says they’re evacuating hospital rooms!” I yelled as he stomped back into the garage. “The weather channel says we need to get to a safe room or a basement!”

(Except, of course, we don’t have a basement. Our storm readiness plan is prayer.)

“Do not go back in that garage!” I yelled as he stomped back by. “I am not emotionally equipped to see you buried in tornado rubble!”

“You’re the one who keeps saying buying this house was fate, that it was meant to be,” he retorted. “If it’s meant to be, it’s not going to be hit by a tornado.”

And even though I really hate it when he uses my own words against me, I guess he was right because both houses survived the storm with no trouble.

So, even though it literally and figuratively is pouring all over us again right now, things are going pretty well. I had the last of my stitches out this morning and the doc thinks the scars are “coming along nicely.” And the kidney stones suck but they could be worse…like when my brother got them ON HIS HONEYMOON while he and his wife were CAMPING ON A VOLCANO.

Fair warning, though, the news is predicting earth-shattering storms tonight with the high possibility of tornadoes so there's a pretty good chance that I will spend hours and hours sharing hysterical weather alerts and screaming at Opie to take shelter.

And I mean that literally!




Friday, May 3, 2019

World Naked Gardening Day


May 4th is World Naked Gardening Day.

To answer the questions that I’m sure are in everyone’s minds:
1. Yes, that’s WORLD not National. It’s clearly a big deal.

2. Yes, it’s a real thing. It was started in 2005 by the same naturalists who created the World Naked Bike Ride…which sounds painful in ways I don’t even want to contemplate.

3. No, while I can’t speak definitively for Opie, I really do not think anyone will be cavorting around the gardens here at the Yates Estates in the raw. First of all, we’re moving and don’t have much of a garden this year. Second, I have to go to see my surgeon on Monday for a follow up procedure and if 
I show up with any sign that I’ve been out in the sun, I’m pretty sure his head will pop right off. So, the only way I’m participating in World Naked Gardening Day is if first I slather myself from head to toe with Zinc like an overzealous lifeguard from 1985.

And even then, I’d still have to wear a hat…and not just any hat, one of these over-sized, not at all fashionable of flattering, shades your entire face, kind of hats.

Don’t get me wrong, I love hats.  I wear hats all time, I always have – as evidenced by this photo montage of some of my favorite hats through the years:


 The thing is, these hats don’t give my face the kind of coverage I need – my doctor has told me over and over that if I want my scars to fade, I absolutely can not allow them in direct sunlight. So the other day I ordered THIS hat:

  
Which may not seem completely horrible – even if it does have a brim that is roughly the size of a small country.  But check out the other features:


So your neck—another prime skin cancer danger zone—is fully covered.

And don’t even get me started on the veil-like face covering…



It is interesting to note that, if your significant other is screaming about how the new hat she has to wear is ridiculous, you should NOT try to cheer her up by saying “It looks good…it looks like you’re on safari.” Trust me, she will NOT find this flattering, will definitely respond with offensive profanity and might even cry.

And let me share the other weird thin about this hat – I heard about it from some other ladies who have had this procedure. They said it’s one of the few hats that really makes them feel comfortable being outside and they even sent me a link. Where I learned that this fabulous hat is recommended for shopping, tourism, running – you name the activity, this hat will keep you protected from the sun during it…except, do you notice anything strange about these ads?
                    

Anything?  Anything that seems a bit off??

Like the fact that NO ONE in the ads is actually wearing the hat???  The hat is so freaking ridiculous, they couldn’t get a paid model to slap it on FOR THE AD IN WHICH THEY WERE TRYING TO GET YOU TO BUY IT.

This is what I’ve been reduced to – fashion accessories so objectionable the best advertisement for them is NOT wearing them.

But, as usual, I digress. I was going to talk about World Naked Gardening Day…as I said, it was started in 2005. Why? Because, according to surveys done by a bevy of believers of being in the buff, gardening was second only to swimming as an activity people most enjoyed doing naked.

Which I find mildly horrifying…do these people not have roses and other thorny plants? Are they unaware that the garden can often be filled with insects that sting and bite?

And the original concept of the day was NOT to frolic amongst your own foliage with your fanny free of festive fashion. The original concept was described as kind of “guerilla prankster.” In which you were actually supposed to drive around different neighborhoods, then jump out of the car at random locations and weed, water, or otherwise tend someone else’s garden—NAKED.

Why this never caught on is a mystery for the ages.

In any case, as I said, we have no current plans to participate in this particular holiday. But if you hear a news story in which a slightly chubby middle-aged woman. naked except for a comically large hat and a painted on layer of white zinc, is arrested for drive by gardening, you can be assured that I have, in fact, finally snapped.

Enjoy the holiday everyone but feel free NOT to share pics.