Rapier's Wit

It is 12: 05 as I begin to write this. A new year has begun. Woo-freakin'-hoo! Once upon a time I viewed each new year as a welcome to hopeful new beginnings. Now, it is more about me screwing up while writing a check. ** The neighborhood yay-hoos are setting off fireworks and it irritates the piss out of me. Loud booms bring me no thrill. I'm overtired which makes Miss Riss a tad cantankerous. I could have waited until daylight to start writing this, but prefer to write while inspired - good or bad . ** Set the bar low and pretty much anything relatively okay equals something faboo except in dating and dining out. 2018 wasn't a total shit show. Early in the year I quit a job that made me absolutely miserable. The people I worked with were, to be blunt, a collection of everything I never wanted to be and prayed I never encounter again. As individuals they may have been acceptable specimens, but together they defined Mean Girls. I walked away from it and have not regre...

Mrs. Rose Barton was (she has retired) the Special Education resource teacher at Mt. Vernon Elementary when Mancub first met her. She swiftly consulted with me; arranged consult with the child psychologist at the school; set up observation of Mancub for herself and the child psychologist. It was determined that my darling son was certainly mis-categorized as EBD (emotional behavior disorder) by his former school. Both professionals determined that he was not acting out and perseverating to gain control. His surroundings were setting it off and he was clearly frustrated and upset. Not an expert in the field of autism, Mrs. Barton sought out help from her colleagues and researched Asperger Syndrome. When she first approached me about the possibility my son was 'special needs' I'll admit to feeling defeated and devastated. No lying. Immediately, I pictured my child being harassed and bullied for being different. I made some phone calls to friends and family members who were ...

Rather than being that little steam engine who chug-a-chug-a choo choos its way up the mountain and glides down when it reaches the other side, I blast full steam ahead into a new project.  What happens when you blow your wad of excitement and energy at the beginning of the race? You haven't anything left to finish it.  In school I was always great at sprints and hurdles in physical education.  It's surprising that ability never encouraged me to try out for the track team.  Long distance running was not my forte.  My life, in general, embraces a similar facet of junior high school P.E.  I get really passionate and excited about an endeavor only to not give a rat's ass about it just as I start to turn a corner.  There are literally three books and two audio books that were tapped into months ago and I've yet to finish them.  Short term goals and I get along famously. Another tid-bit about Miss Riss that I recognize is this: If progress isn't ap...

I have a confession to make. I've lacked motivation for two months.  Regardless of the wild success experienced in the first 90 days of my weight loss journey, I have lost the edge of ambition.  My workouts haven't eased up.  If anything I have pushed myself harder.  The reason? It seemed the best thing to get over the hump. Yet, something triggered the junk food junky in me.  The addict reared her fat, cellulite covered, sloppy, disgusting self.  I've been pretending that everything is hunky dory and nothing can get in the way of me and my goals.  I've lied to you. It was done as a means to convince myself that it was only temporary and if I talked a big game I'd believe it.  Wrong. I'm humbly sorry and ashamed.  Wearing the mask is uncomfortable and I've got to be me. Today, as with last three days, have held me under the weather.  Headaches and nausea abound as I force myself to workout each morning.  Although, today I succ...