The Middle Hours…

…the ones where sleep is elusive, the ones that fall between say–two and six in the morning–are like a secret garden for me. I plant a seed, a thought, then let the idea grow until creativity sparks like a firecracker.

Whatever happens in this time frame sets the tone for my day. It determines whether it will be a FUN day or just another one of those “FUNNY DAYS“!

Why I’m up during what should be my Rapid Eye Movement hours is beyond me…it just is what it is.

It always amazes me how we adapt and learn to tolerate that which makes us crazy–that which makes us freaking exhausted later in the day when we should be functioning like a well oiled engine!

But this time of day/night, however you want to look at it, is often my most creative time IF I can harvest the thoughts running through my brain…the ones that shoot out like bullets from a machine gun.

BAM–there goes another one!

Just when I think I’m coming into focus, honing in on the ramblings/ideas/thoughts scooting back and forth in my brain like a hockey puck being played by two trophy winning teams…

…Just when I think I can sit at my computer and force words to flow through my fingers onto the blank screen, words that should make sense…


I realize I forgot to switch the laundry over before going to bed.

This sets off the train of frustration because I know I will have to run the wash again to get rid of the overnight stench of sitting water.


It’s the chain reaction theory working to keep me running behind, like a watch whose battery is on the verge of dying but not quite. It keeps a little time, the wrong time, but it’s moving just enough to keep me going even though I may reach the TOTAL FAIL POINT…the place where I give in and say time or lack of it wins–I lose.

I wonder whether or not I can achieve all the tasks ahead of me during the correct hours of being awake! Can I fit my creativity onto the list of the ‘honey do’ portion of my day?

What’s a girl to do?

Me–I do what I always do. I step away from the computer, go out to the laundry room, set the wheels in motion once again–and feel some odd sense of satisfaction rain down in my brain.

Score Card

Chores done–10 points!



This happens all too often.

Returning from the laundry room, I wonder what it was I was about to write? The idea eludes me and I feel, well, disappointed, put upon, and bummed out! Will the idea/thought return? Maybe, but maybe not!

I hate my brain some days.

But I’m a creature of habit and force myself to sit and think.

There’s an inkling of something lurking at the end of my finger tips waiting to spring free but the release is not there. It fades away…it’s like a rain cloud that’s moved in front of the sun. That’s right about the time when I notice a pile of crumbs on the floor next to the table upon which my computer sits. This would be a remenent of snacks ingested by my children long after I’d hit the sack the night before.

I try to ignore the distraction by focusing on the blank screen of my computer.

One word…just type one fucking word and you can break the spell I tell myself!

I see the broom taunting me like it always does. It leans against the cupboard all yellow and bristly trying so desperately to seduce me, to get and keep my attention.

“Come on…you know you want to feel my handle in your hands,” it whispers into the air as though I can really hear it…as though I will really truly give a shit.

“Fuck off…I’m trying to work here!” I let these words spin around in my brain silently!

“No, no, no,” it whispers. “You know you can’t write a God Damned thing now that you’ve spotted the mess on the floor!”

“Shut the hell up!” This time I say it out loud, but not loud enough to wake anyone else up.

I have, on occasion, said things too-out-loud during the wee hours and as a result one of my children have wandered out of their bedroom sleepy eyed to ask me who the hell I’m talking to at this unGodly hour.

I have to decide between telling an outright lie, or admit that I’m having a perfectly normal conversation with the broom!

They know I talk to myself…but admitting that I have a real honest-to-God relationship with most of my cleaning utensils may lead to a lot of unsettling questions later on.

I try to ignore it by Googling “Dealing With ADD”.

Focus daily on your overall health, both in mind and body!

Don’t fail to plan. Plan to succeed!

Surround yourself with a positive environment as much as possible!



The authors of these great suggestions obviously do not know me or my family! They must be referring to those who are either only a tad affected by this syndrome or are medicated so heavily they turn into iron-clad-doer’s who TUNNEL VISION everything until they’ve accomplished everything on their list or the med’s have worn off!

My eye’s are once again drawn away from the empty computer screen to those BASTARD crumbs!

Now, call me a freak, but this time when I look at them I see they’ve somehow reshaped themselves to form words.



The earth feels like it’s moving beneath me. I thank God for living in California because the earth does move here. If this is an earthquake it will relieve my of my creative duties, hallelulia, because now I’ll have to run into the kitchen and try to hold as many cupboards closed as I can in order to maintain damage control.

I wait for the bigness of it………………but NOTHING.

I realize as my eye’s turn towards the kitchen that it’s just the fucking broom doing the tango because it’s as ADD as me. It is demanding my attention!

At long last I close my computer in defeat!




Weight has…


…always been an issue for me. For the better part of my youth I was what you’d call a big girl. You know that girl. The one whose face you’d compliment because you couldn’t see all the way around the rotundness to compliment anything else.  

I never thought of myself as ‘gigantic’ because I was smaller than most of my friends. Now they were hefers! So yeah, weight has always been a big issue in my life.  Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not grossly overweight in the physical sense but my brain always tells me different. I think that makes me like most women who’ve had these little [or big]  battles with their body identity.

I suffer from what many middle-agers suffer from…that dastardly, annoying, freaking spare tire-ish bulge that seems to gather around our waist while we’re not paying attention. What comes to mind when I happen to catch a glimpse of this stockpile of flesh is elephant ankles where the skin just seems to lay in layers. Part of this problem of course is due to menopause, at least that’s what I tell myself. Okay, I may bitch about menopause but it does have some perks. We can lay blame to a lot of things that happen to our body during these non-blood-letting years. Thank God for small favors!

Something I find kind of interesting is how belly fat has become big business. Their main target is women, especially the ones who’ve earned their baby badges. Every day you see those asinine ads for pills/patches/smoothies that will reduce your protrusions with little or no effort. You know the ones. Pop a pill starting Monday and drop a few clothing sizes by Friday. Helloooooooo…

Is anyone out there really buying this crap? Are we that stupid? I mean really!

Okay…so I’ve sent for a few of these products. Admittedly, I am an I-D-I-O-T!!! I got sucked in by a few of those smooth talking salespeople who made it sound so easy, so believable, soooooo promising. I followed the plan, popped a pill, put my feet up and waited. And then I waited some more, and a little more after that. Was my ass or gut shrinking? NO! Not even one eensy-teensy inch.

You might as well just find a drug dealer who can supply you with speed, or better yet, just switch to espresso. All it did was make me talk faster and run around like a chicken that just got its head cut off. Another side affect is the shaking. You know that nervous twittering you get when your blood sugar is to low. Maybe this is how you actually lose the weight–you shake it off.

I’m not exactly sure what the ingredients are, I’ve never been into reading labels, but they drove my ADD into hyper-drive. This pissed my husband off, because on occasion [I’ve always been the ‘handyman’ of the house] I’ve been known to strip a room down to its studs in under four hours rather that just splash a new coat of paint on the walls to get the same effect. Oh yeah, those $30 miracle pills cost us about $20,000 to rebuild our kitchen.

So, working on the premise of ‘been there, done that’, I came to the conclusion that any extra pounds I’ve acquired, well, they’re just going to have to come off the good old-fashioned way. Starvation and exercise. Fuck me!

I knew I had to make a plan and so plan I did. Me and the Hubby [whose idea of exercise is moving the fork from the plate to his mouth] started walking every morning. This is not only good for the body (fat), it’s also a great way to clear your head. We’d  try to get in at least a mile and a half each day. We’d been doing this faithfully for about a year but then I fucked that up when I discovered a shortcut. Duh!

Another brilliant realization I came to because I’m such a clean freak was that I could use normal household appliances as part of my cardiovascular workout. I have this horrible bad habit of loading my laundry machine in an uneven way. It used to piss me off listening to it bounce around trying to escape from it’s built in space, but then, the more I thought about it the more I realized that maybe it was trying to tell me something. Maybe it had been trying to get my attention all along.

I stood there one morning watching as it gyrated and it occurred to me that there was a good possibility it could help in my endeavor to slim down.

At first, I just leaned against it, kind of testing the waters you know. Oh boy, that was an eye opener. All of a sudden I could feel my loose flesh slop back and forth, kind of like those waves you see in a pool after someone does a cannonball.

I found this quite depressing because I realized there were things moving that I didn’t expect to move. You know, things like my recently acquired double chin. Oh yeah, I know it’s there, I’ve seen pictures. Hell that’s why I always hold my chin up so high now. Do you know how many reflective surfaces you come across in a day? Crap, they’re everywhere! The other double chins, the ones that hang loosely on the underside of my upper arms were also having a hay-day. My butt…hell…that sucker was having its own party too. 

So much for Plan A.

I knew that I’d have to figure out a way so that I didn’t actually feel this stuff, my fat, moving around as though it was possessed by the devil himself.

After pondering on this for a day or so Plan B unfolded in a moment of brilliance.

Because I’m very conscious of my flaws I have several undergarments that forcefully mold these devilish curves back to where they’re supposed to be. It was simple. I’d don one of these one-piecer’s  under my housecoat, [I’m usually doing the laundry in the middle of the night because I suffer from insomnia–again–thank you menopause] throw on a pair of running shoes, and off to the laundry room I’d head. Thank God my family is slobbish when it comes to their clothes because there’s never a lack of laundry that needs to be tended to. I’d be able to do this every day.

Taking this experiment one step farther I decided it was time to jump on board. I hoisted myself up on top of the ‘now-on-purpose-overloaded machine and pushed the button. Whee Hah! It was like riding one of those electric bulls at a country and western bar. I would not recommend drinking coffee while doing this unless you put it in one of those travel mugs. Oh well, more laundry for me.

Now, this is quite a tricky process because there’s a good possibility that the machine will buck you off like a pissed bronco bull, so you’ve got to figure out how to brace yourself. The door frame was a good start. I’d put one foot up there and then I had to move the big cabinet that holds all my tools a little closer so there’d be a place for the other foot. It’s not exactly a pretty site but it seems to do the job. I figure I can get in about two hours of this before the sun comes up so there’s no chance of getting busted in my ridiculous looking pose wearing things no one should see publicly. There is also another perk while using this method. Not only does the machine gyrate it also vibrates if you get my drift. Yes I go about this chore happily now. My children think I’m nuts because I’m always gathering up their clothes now–dirty or not. I’m not going to tell them any different. 

The other thing I invested in are those rubbery ropes, the ones you do calisthenics with. They’ve got little hand grips on either end so they’re fairly easy to use. Using these started out with a bang, and then my decision to stop using them also came with a bang. If you’re going to use them outside to work your back, you have to sling it over something to add pressure. Well, let me tell you if you choose a tree branch, it better be a big ass tree branch. I made the mistake of using a lower thinner branch, which did not pan out. It only took two pulls before the twiggy little bugger broke free and crashed into the bridge of my nose. It was at this point I realized these particular workout tools also make good gardening tie-backs.

All in all, I’m getting it together this year. My New Year resolutions have unfolded. I’ve vowed to walk slower. This way things I don’t want to move don’t, or at least they don’t move enough to attract attention. I’ve vowed to look in the mirror once in the morning while I’m getting ready and avoid anything that might reflect my image during the rest of the day. I’ve vowed never to give my fat and fatter clothes away again. I’ve vowed to tell myself I’m not fat–I’m just not thin. You know bullshit things. A girls gotta do what a girls gotta do, right?

So there you have it in a nutshell. I’m starting this year off with a fresh start. I’m going to get in shape or at least shape what I got. 

Well, I’ve got to run. The timer just went off. I think my brownies are done! Bon Apetite!