You know what I’m gonna say. I don’t do white-water anything, much less kayaking.
I can only imagine the amount of time I would have spent upside down under the kayak, trying to not drown as river water…I’m sorry…mountain spring water…slowly but surely filled my lungs to the bursting point, until water, but pure mountain spring water mind you, poured from my, ears, nose, and mouth like I was a freshly tapped aquifer.
Elizabeth and Mark went – well I don’t know – upstairs or somewhere else hidden from sight, so it was Dad and me alone in the cabin again.
He watched old movies on Prime, and I got it into my head that it would be a perfect time to work on some of the more technical aspects of my website.
I’m still working on it more than 24 hours later.
I’m so technologically inept.
I’ve made it worse, if I’m honest.
Broken links, three categories of stuff titled ”Categories,” two more labeled “Archives,” and a whole footer of nothing but links to blog posts I’d done already, some of them years ago.
Yeah, I’m not sure those links work, either.
But anyway, that’s where I am now.
Since I’m baring my soul, I actually didn’t start on the blog right away.
Instead, I stayed on Facebook for hours, liking things, commiserating with people, and apologizing profusely to the other side of my family for the rant I went off on in my chopped liver post.
Everyone in the cabin told me to leave the scathing message I had received unanswered, but my OCD got the better of me and I had to answer her firing shot with my own “bang, bitch.”
Then, of course, I had to apologize to them for my hurtful words, publicly, and on Facebook.
So that’s why I had a portable charger in one hand, which was plugged into my phone, which was being held in my other hand, when Elizabeth asked me if I wanted to go in the jacuzzi with her.
I did not.
I was busy:
- commenting on other people’s Facebook joy
- and pain,
- and with my A.D.D.,
- plus OCD,
- plus depression from being left home alone
- while even Elizabeth and Mark got out in the morning before I got up was getting to me.
They took Dad out to a place called Louise’s Kitchen to get him out of the cabin for a bit.
They then all ate a buttload of breakfast foods, including, but not limited to, blueberry pancakes.
In fact, and I quote the text sent to me, (except for the part in parentheses):
“Dad and Mark had their standard brunch consisting of
- two eggs, over medium,
- patty sausage,
- grits with extra salt,
- and toast with heavy butter and jam,
- and blueberry pancakes
- and bacon respectively
- (two heart attacks on a plate, please, in other words, but maybe I’m just being bitter).
- Elizabeth enjoyed a house favorite, a big breakfast burrito.”
I, on the other hand, had two cups of coffee, and “there were clouds in my coffee, clouds in my coffee, and…”
🎶I’m so vain, I’ve so far made this blog post about me.🎶
My depressed mood made me want to dig my nose even deeper into my phone and type messages to random people, most of whom I barely knew, and wish them happy birthday, and many happy returns and shit like that.
- But that doesn’t mean I don’t love my Facebook peeps.
- They’ve saved me from many a late-night spending spree, which is a habit I’ve had trouble breaking.
- There’s something about being up all night that makes me think “Cha-Ching, I absolutely have to buy (insert useless, yet surprisingly expensive, item here).”
- I went so far as to apply for, and get, PayPal Credit in a failed effort to hide my nocturnal spending habits from John.
Unfortunately, I am unable to keep a secret from him.
I always cave and tell him everything I’ve done that’s untoward and/or deceitful in the least.
He’s got laser eyes that I swear can see into my soul.
- I let the depression get the upper hand today in the constant battle that goes on in my brain every freakin’ single day
- Seretonin was in short supply
- I had too much time alone
- to think about the fact that Blizzard’s not going to be at the dog sitters when we go to pick up Tsuki after the trip
- The mountains trip ends early tomorrow morning
- We’re watching a FIFA World Cup match at 11:00 am to approximately 2:00 pm at my sister’s house in Cornelius, NC
- Then we’re making the long drive back to South Florida after the game even though I was hoping John would decide to stay the night and drive back the following morning
And, Blizzard’s not gonna be home. Ever. Again. Forever.
- I’ll never again get to chastise him for following me into the bathroom despite the fact that I clearly pulled the door to close it a bit so I could pee in peace, without having to use one of my hands to pet him.
- Or, trip over him in the kitchen because he was stealth when he was following me around the house, so I never heard him.
- Or call him “La Cucaracha,” because he had a funny way of taking tiny, little steps when he was trotting after me. Like a little cockroach.
I have a Blizzard-sized ache in my heart.
But I didn’t want to be rude to my sister, so I went and sat on the edge of the jacuzzi with my legs in the water, a device in each hand, still typing even as I talked to her.
It wasn’t until we were done that danger struck.
I threw one leg over the side, overbalanced and started to tip.
- Elizabeth grabbed the other leg as I was going down, screaming “I got you,”
- and I’m all “no you don’t,”
- as I faceplanted into the gravel surrounding the hot tub,
- but in slow motion,
- cuz she was holding onto my leg with superhuman strength
- and dramatically slowed my fall onto that rocky surface.
The only thing that was wounded was my pride.
And, I arose from that gravelly bed still clutching an electronic device in each hand.
Sure, I could’ve broken my neck, but I saved the battery charger and my phone.
And that is why fat women should not sit in, on or around jacuzzis, especially when they don’t have both hands free.
Until next time, remember that you’re going to have your bad days, but just tell yourself, “this too shall pass.”
Tomorrow is a new beginning.
- I’ll still be fat and unable to hike trails
- and go white-water anythinging,
- or balance precariously on the edge of a hot tub with an electronic device in each hand,
- but I’ll wake up with new hope
- and a replenished supply of seretonin
- and as Jenny Lawson aka TheBloggess advises in the Title of her best-selling book, I’ll be “Furiously Happy”
We saw a black bear outside the cabin this morning, and that was awesome if not a little bit scary.
And I went with my family to The Biltmore vineyard for a wine tasting tonight, and that was fun.
I don’t drink wine, so I kept switching glasses with Ben. He’d drink his, then we’d quickly switch glasses so the empty one was in front of me while he finished off the one I just gave him.
I know, I know, contributing to the delinquency of a minor – wait – he’s 22.
Still, John, Greyson and Matthew went to get ice cream because they don’t like wine.
That’s where I should’ve made Ben go, but it was fun watching him help Dad with his wine choices.
So I learned a 22 year old can be quite knowledgeable about wine.
And fat women have a really wobbly center of gravity.
Keep the faith, people.
I’m not giving up because I feel like screaming right now, and I’ve had a few low moments since yesterday.
And neither should you.