April 10, 2025

Where's My Lollipop?

Let’s talk about something no one really prepares you for—being your own health advocate. Remember when you were little, and your parents took care of everything? You’d catch a cold, and suddenly they were superheroes—booking doctor’s appointments, explaining your symptoms, picking up prescriptions, and even footing the bill. All you had to do was sit there, maybe armed with a juice box and your favorite teddy bear. It was, dare I say, the dream setup.

But here’s the kicker—no one tells you that the dream doesn’t last. One day, you’re the grown-up, and the job is yours. You’re the one scheduling appointments, rattling off symptoms, and deciphering prescription labels like they’re written in hieroglyphics. And it’s hard. Scratch that—it’s ridiculously hard.

Over the past few years, I’ve had my fair share of health issues (some straightforward, others more “medical mystery meets crime thriller”), and suddenly, I was the detective in my own case. I’ve had to figure things out when doctors were stumped, connect the dots no one else saw, and fight for solutions. Apparently, adulthood means swapping juice boxes for endless Google searches on symptoms that always lead to “it might be a rare disease.”

Being your own advocate isn’t easy, but it’s necessary—and honestly, a little empowering (once you get past the whole “why is this so complicated!?” moment). It’s a messy, humbling, and sometimes comically frustrating part of growing up.

March 23, 2025

People are STUPID

Here’s my thoughts… why do we have men sports AND women sports? I mean if there is no difference why don’t women already compete in men’s sports and visa versa?  




March 13, 2025

Marriage vs Potholes

I found a house I really like—okay, I mean REALLY like—and, of course, Dennis hates it. SIGH. It checks all my boxes inside (dream kitchen? Check! Large pantry? Check! Oh, and DOUBLE islands—I didn’t even know I was the kind of person who needs that in her life, but here we are). Unfortunately, the outside? Meh. Curb appeal isn’t its strong suit.

Still, I had high hopes of talking Dennis into it—until he hit me with the “It’s too far from our daily lives” argument, not to mention the bumpy roads and pot holes to get there. Ugh, details, Dennis, details! But if he walked in tomorrow and said, “You know what? Go ahead and put the deposit down!” I wouldn’t even blink. I’d be knee-deep in packing tape before he could change his mind.

And now I’m sitting here torturing myself by imagining life in that kitchen. It was chef’s kiss perfection. All the rooms were exactly where they should be, like the house just got me. Meanwhile, Dennis is over here complaining about commutes and potholes. Would I trade marital bliss for double islands? I mean… ask me again on a Monday, and we’ll see.

Why is it so hard for us to agree on just ONE thing? Someone send help. Or a moving truck. I'm flexible.




Where have all the sane people gone? Asking for a friend...

 

March 10, 2025

Does this chair make my butt look big?

My office chair is playing the world’s slowest game of hide-and-seek, and apparently, I’m losing. One moment, I’m at eye level with my screen, typing away, and the next, I’m staring up at my keyboard like a kid looking over a candy shelf. How do I not notice myself sinking into the abyss of bad hydraulics? Has my chair developed stealth skills, or am I just too distracted by Love is Blind on Netflix to feel the slow betrayal beneath me?

This is chair number four to pull this stunt. Four. Either office chair manufacturers have a vendetta against me, or my backside has been indulging a little too much during snack breaks. At this point, I’m not sure if I should blame the crappy hydraulics or bravely admit that gravity’s winning this round.