Good Mix for your tummy

Happy post Thanksgiving to all. It was indeed a day to be thankful. The morning was spent with two super folks in addition to a church hosting a Thanksgiving meal free of charge for those who feel so inclined. It was a glorious mix of good and hungry folks. These types of circumstances always get my heart hurting and my ducts a-workin'. For that day, I did pretty good by keeping busy and channeling the good thru a smile as opposed to tears. Sometimes volunteer situations bring on stress and discomfort, but the folk's at St. Benedict's were just as jolly as Old St Nick may have been. Seriously, most of them had rosy cheeks whether they were Irish, cookin', or helpin' about. Interestingly enough, as in many situations, people would come to me to ask for direction, "Where do the pies go?, Where can I get coffee? Do we have plastic bags? Who's in charge?", etc. Ironically enough, I knew most of the answers or some how found out before being asked. Not only was it happening, but one of my friends noticed and made note of how people seem to look to me as a possible authority figure just by the way I was standing there. Little did most of those people know that I was pretty much guarding the reserve bread and keeping out of the way, but ready to do something else if asked or if another person was needed. There were a few ladies trying to ease into my spot, but I held strong until they clearly wanted my post. Fine, I yielded and was granted a spot on the serving line anyway. It was indeed a good time. Later I joined some other friends that hosted some cousins and couple of us orphans. It was nice and mostly traditional. I miss fungos, though. Fungos: what slightly overweight or lazy men do as their form of baseball -where one guy hits a ball into to the outfield, but there is no base running. I never said I played, I was a girl and what the fuck would a girl know about baseball of any other sport.

Hope you enjoy a little Gary Larson.

I was thankful to spend at least a day with other people since the rest of the weekend was spent by myself and that's ok until I fell. I fucking fell flat on my keister with a head hittin' the refrigerator. It has left several marks. I knew it was gonna happen because Chubbs (the kitty) had a little vomit action that I had cleaned up and while I cleaned it up I made a note to myself that the spot would be slippery, and sure enough. It was kind of scary because no one called until today. I don't talk to anyone on a regular basis anymore and I was just thinking how thankful I was for not hurting myself or for not falling on Thurs and hurting myself and no one would know until Mon when I wouldn't show for work. Is menopause setting in or is it the weed talking?