We Moved, Shit Happened.

So, it's been forever since I wrote an entry. On my birthday back in December, we packed up a 16-foot Budget truck, and climbed into the cab the next day with our two cats to head across the country. It took 4 days. The cats have recovered. There was some piss and excrement with which to deal, and over-energetic times, but we all made it. My Mom had been in various hospitals and institutions for 3 months. 2 weeks after we got there to help, to be there for her and my Dad, she died. Not exactly the way I planned to be back here, and I know all the flowery poetic crap of her being in a better place, and she is, she really is, those last few months really really sucked for her, but generally I do not do well with Death. It's a passage, it's wonderful for those who made the passage, and I am happy for her knowing she is not suffering here, but generally it's hard to get up in the morning. I know without my husband, I wouldn't have done half as well, and should he go before me, I might just never get off my couch again, so hopefully we go together.

Anyway. It's been really tough to write. I have things about which to write, and I have things I want to say, but staring at the blank screen was a little too much to manage. It just wouldn't happen. I couldn't make it come. So, I'm brain-puking right now. Hoping we will be back to our regularly-scheduled rants after this. I suspect, from my gentle pattering on Facebook, that any new posts will be quite a bit snarkier than in the past. I did not honestly think that was possible, but turns out it is.

I've been told we have to be gentle with people if we want to change their minds, that they listen better if we tell them nicely instead of barking at them. I'm sure that works for some people. And you know what? YOU go ahead and be gentle with them. They got you for that. I'll be over here. I'll be the voice for the rest of us, who know that time is short and shit's going down and we don't have time to coddle and purr. Because when you are gone, that's it. You are gone. People need to wake up. I'll do that. People don't want to listen? Fine. Let them go over there and get their hands held. That's just not me, no matter how hard I try.

I went to a doctor once upon a time. A plastic surgeon. He was the kind of doctor that was all-business, very matter-of-fact, told it like it was. I liked that. No-nonsense. To the point. I didn't need to be fluffed. I saw an online review of that same doctor where someone said, "He's too cold, not friendly enough." That was over 10 years ago, and I still remember how insipid I found that to be. I felt those were the same kind of *ladies* that thought they needed to wear make-up into surgery, so they could be pretty when they awoke. It's fine to need your doctor to be all happy and fluffy and hand-holdy for you, but damn I am glad the other kind exist for the rest of us. Cuz shit goes down. And when shit goes down, the fluffy people cannot get it done. They'll be zombie-food.

I guess I am saying... or hoping to say... I'm back. I think. Yeah, no, I know. Yes. I can do this. Because I am not one of the fluffy ones and I fucking never will be.