I'd Call Myself "Guera de la Guerra"

Look, Ma! A piercing AND a tattoo! Kidding! It's a press-on; and Mom never comes on my blog. I'm not sure she knows about it. Good thing too, or she would have been calling me up over this past week with her own special brand of support in hard times. That would be: "The women in this family do not give in to pain. Get off your butt and get to work." Be sure to say it in a very hard tone. Seethe a little. She does hate my piercing. On my rare visits home, I was in the habit of flashing it at her, just to make her say, "Katherine! For heaven's sake!"

I had several tattoos last night, as well as my frayed jeans, my army shirt and various "bad girl" accessories, 'cause it was Roller Derby night. Flat track, at the Salt Palace. Black Diamond Divas taking on the Hot Wheelers. Awesome alter egos such as "Medusa Damage"( that was my favorite), "Pandora Doom", "Smack & Deckher", etc..





It was a lot less violent than I thought it would be. In fact, I have to say that I would be interested in giving this a try... I have not roller skated much, but I'm a fairly good ice skater. (Until you got a drivers' license, there was nothing else to do in Markesan, Wisconsin in the winter. The city flooded a rink, The Kiwaunis Club ran the warming shack, all the boys were there.) Sara wants to go to Classic Skate for her birthday treat next week, so I will check myself for hidden talent. In Wasatch Roller Derby, you don't form teams or try to join a team. It's a league and everyone practices together, then they form up their teams on the night of the derby. I know, I know... It's just a little too friendly... My friend Vicki Pineiro (who got me interested in roller derby in the first place) was there. When I expressed interest in trying it, she said that all you have to do is show up on a practice night and they'd give you a try. Don't need to know the rules (Good. They're complicated) - you can learn as you go. Looking at the girls, I can see that would EASILY be the oldest participant. By about 15 years. I can also see that the alter-egos, the costumes, the makeup, the playacting of it would be right up my alley.

Sooooo.. the daily question: did it help?

[sadly] No! If press on tattoos won't cheer a girl up, what will?! To be honest, better company would have helped. We went with a couple that we are acquainted with. Si likes them a lot; they are OK to hang around with, but they (sorry, but it's true...) bore me a little; and just now I'm craving fun company. Still, I wore my game face and flashed my tummy. Can't be a grumpy old slag.

Today was Day 9 on the Long March. If you check out my hike plan, you will see that the second leg is the "hurts most of the time with occasional moments of relief" stage. That's my goal. Nine days and I'm still not to it?!? Geeze. I am getting an eerie feeling that this is going to take longer than I anticipated. What if it takes a REALLY FUCKING LONG TIME?

OK, let's not panic. I did manage some things today. A list- Things Kate Managed:

1. A few basic household chores: beds, dishes, etc...;
2. A few loads of laundry;
3. I successfully prepared my sun-dried tomato, provolone and basil meatloaf.
4. I successfully prepared black-bottom banana cream pie.
5. I was able to put together a menu for next week that is not an embarrassment. Last week I did stuff like decide on a meal, write it on to the menu, then not check the ingredients or shop for the ingredients...dinner time rolled around and I was like, "Huh? Cauliflower sweet potato curry?" Worse yet, I had already planned it for a night earlier in the week and made it then.
6. I also read a few chapters of my book. I had hoped for escape, but the story in the book reminded me too much of my present difficulties; so I burrowed my head into the cushions on the sun-porch sofa and wished that I was Puxatawney Phil.

MESSAGE TO THE UNIVERSE: I am not a sad-sack. I am not a baby. I have always been a model of resilience. I will get that all back again. I think the reason that I am suffering this badly is that my situation is in limbo. I don't limbo well. It's that whole bend-over-backward thing. I would slap the situation into shape, but it isn't all mine to slap. Control of the situation? NOT! Any idea of the outcome? NOT! Possibility that there will never be a resolution? 'Fraid so.

I need to bring out the BIG GUNS. When I start feeling sorry for myself, I should remember to get out and find people who need help. Girls on the Run doesn't start for three more weeks. I'm thinking about volunteering in long-term care or hospice. I'm good at that. And I need to get my focus back on Guadalupe. For a while, I was thinking that I should learn to take a little time off, spoil myself, delegate a bit. Pffft. The road to hell... Immersion would bring oblivion, which would bring relief.

Tomorrow is a new day, and I will try again.