Type A with a side of B

I visited one of my local haunts yesterday.    It was locked up, but a friend was already inside.  He let us in and wandered around with us.  We talked about the past, the present and naturally, the future.  He expressed a genuine concern regarding my health and was quick to ask if I would be roaming around on a more regular basis.  Sadly, I shook my head and confided the purpose of stopping by.  I wanted to get my personal effects and bring it all home.

I could read his face.  He was disappointed.  He and I had been “regulars” there.  There was always something to do or organize.  This is where I profess my type A personality…  We got my room (406 to be specific) and the lump in my throat began to alert my tear ducts “It’s time.”  The custodians had packed up a lot of my things already; so at first glance it seemed bare.  It was obvious that I hadn’t been there in awhile.

I wouldn’t leave a room like that, ever.  There were empty food containers on desks, a forgotten denim jacket on the back of a chair and empty boxes strewn about.  I made my way to the front book shelves, picking up a box and some of the papers which were left on the floor and turned around.  My whole world, the one where I put in thousands of hours grading, cleaning or organizing was gone.  Poof!

My first instinct was to get started on cleaning up and putting things where they belonged (my judgement).  The Type A in me was making it’s way to the surface.  I can’t focus when the environment is not orderly.  My husband and friend stopped me and reminded me that I wasn’t supposed to be “doing” anything laborious-per my doctors.  I was just supposed to point to what was mine and they would pack it up, transport it to their vehicles and then get it home.  So I did.  They did.  We tried to keep the mood light.  They joked about my “Shakespeare Action Figure.”  I had another one for Poe.  According to the custodian, I have a lot of “dolls” and glitter and pink.

My room was once my place of respite.  The building belonged to me and Michael- if you follow the “possession is 9/10 of the law.”  for 14 years. 

Packing up 14 years of my life is not supposed to look like it did yesterday, it’s supposed to have a nice and clean entrance and exit.  

My trek yesterday was just so sad.  My heart was breaking.  I loved it all once.  The smells, sights, sounds, of the hallway were comforting.  There was nostalgia for each whimsical item in my classroom or at least a story.  I had two homes… one for 90% of my existence and the other home clean, organized and full of heirlooms, nostalgia/stories.  It’s the way I am. Period.

The doctors told me that stress is a huge factor and gets my Adrenal Fatigue all out of control.  They want me to learn how to genuinely relax and loosen up the reins on life.  Ha!

I’m supposed to drop the Type A gig and work on being a B.  Remaining Type A could & has proven to make for a very difficult existence… However,  is being Type B a liscense for being unkempt?  Do B’s care about providing a space for everyone to feel safe (especially in room 406)?  Do B’s notice the little things?  Do they react or just turn away when a rule is broken?  Are they hippies?

My garage now harbors my recently liberated personal effects from room 406.  My husband expects to have his garage back before the first snow of the season.  

I understand where he is coming from, he  doesn’t deserve to have to step over boxes and pick up things that have been strewn about.  Sound familiar?  

Right now I’m processing it all and deciding what should go where.  My Type A will get it all taken care of.  It is just me.  Period.


I wish…

PinkLady2016 - Tomorrow

As you may know, my husband and I were lucky enough to attend the Andrea Bocelli Concert in Detroit just a couple of days ago (12-3-17). It was wonderful!

I had a great time until the show was over. You see, that is when my Hashimoto’s took over my body. I lost control of my senses and was in a black out. 😡

What I remember

We were using LYFT Car Service to shuttle us to and from the concert (Strongly recommended). I messaged LYFT that we needed to be picked up.

As we were walking out of the seating area, I kept getting dizzy and losing my balance on the stairs. My husband and the Usher were very helpful. I was also starting to sweat. Mind you, by that point we were waiting near a door which was kept open and the temperature was 32*. I was only getting…

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My Pug

Let me tell you about my female pug. She’s adorable. But I’m not the only person who thinks this is true. She’s all black which is really hard to find. Black pugs have quite a history.

Back in the Victorian era, if a black pug was born, it was immediately drowned so that the evil (they believed black pugs were bad luck and evil) couldn’t escape them. Fawn pugs were bred to sit on the feet of the Royals to keep them warm. Queen Victoria fell in love with the breed.

My pug is 13 years old. She is very calm, a lap warmer and my fur baby.

I have taken so many pictures of her I think the only one I am missing is an ultrasound.

She and her fawn brother chose us, way back when, so we just had to adopt them both. They were called “The Twins” and we made sure to get them spayed and neutered appropriately.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.My little pug has grown up as a very spoiled pug should. These darlings have a better diet than my husband and I do.

She and her brother were the ring barers in our wedding.

This past couple of weeks has been tough on my girl. She went to the vet for her annual exam and shots. The vet was most unhappy with her teeth. I tried when she was a puppy to regularly brush her teeth but she fought me every time. Consider a pug’s face and how small their little mouths are. They can’t even hold a tennis ball.

So, we booked a dental cleaning two days later.

The vet removed four teeth and then found the abscess on the roof of her mouth. The skin around it was diseased and to cut it out, would leave a raw area in her mouth.

We paid the bill and brought her home. When the vet called the next day, she was doing great. Within twenty-four hours, she was spitting out blood clots of all sizes. The big one’s got me worrying, but the vet office was closed.

Other than this, my favorite little pug has been a healthy pug.

So, am I dulling you with my pug? What if I told you that she is also my “Service Dog”? She somehow has the ability to sense that a seizure or panic attack is about to happen. She will make sure to stop what ever she is doing and come to me. Even if I have already taken my Meds, her presence calms me.

Forgive me for indulging in my fur baby. Believe me, it’s the least I can do…..


I had to put my little pug to sleep this evening. The “thing” in her mouth was killing her.

We brought her home and let her brothers see her for the last time.

I held her as she took her final breath which was more of a sigh. She looked into my eyes, gave me some precious licks (kisses) and then she was gone.

I believe in the Rainbow Bridge. She’s there. I will see her again.

Retiring Together

My health forced a non-duty early retirement and disability (Teaching 20+ years).  My husband has retired from The US Air Force (20 years), as well as, Mechanical Engineering (10 years).

We are still “in love”; but we are also, I don’t know, “Empty-Professionals”, I guess.

It’s like “Empty Nester’s” but for co-workers, not children.   It’s weird.  Our relationship has a new spin.  We are trying to figure out what to do, now.

I think we had decided; time not spoken for by jobs, was to be protected and cherished.  We used to have schedules in which, we might have a few moments together on one day in the upcoming week.  This is the opposite of then.

Now I am home (if not at a doctor appointment -which could take a day), 24/7.  I don’t drive, he does.  So we’re still together on those days too.  He’s a bowling 🎳 enthusiast and keeps that hobby alive and well daily.  He is also the Coach of the local high school program.

If it wasn’t for his hobby, we would be constantly under foot of each other.  Each of us has put in a lot of heart to keeping our little world safe.  And my profession was always in need of someone to do this or that; I never considered retiring at this point in our lives.

I ask myself “Now what?”, a lot.  Doctor appointments can not be the only thing to do each week.  Right?  I am told by my family “Volunteer!”  “Write!”  “Read for fun!”  “Join a dance class!”  “Help out at a shelter or library.”  “Whatever you want and afford!”

To quote Darius Rucker, “Don’t think I don’t think about it.



As Seen on TV 📺

  • My pillow
  • Copper pots, pans, skillets and socks
  • Coobie Bra’s
  • Balance boards
  • Jump Ropes
  • LED everything
  • And let’s not forget Chia Pets

Talk about a society that probably has everything with the use of a remote control and telephone. It is almost eerily suspicious how much the producers put into knowing what, when and how to place these advertisements. They know more about humans’ mental and emotional timing, than we do!

I know this. I know about how it all works; but dang it, that Copper Brownie Pan is quite tempting.

Obviously I don’t have any desire to own a Treadmill, Oscillating Bike, or any exercise equipment. I see too many at Garage Sales. Go figure.

Next we have the diets. South Beach Diet, Dr. Phil Healthy Living, and Bob Green’s (Oprah’s Dietitian) Guide to Better Health.

Companies will even create boxes of “Fresh Foods with recipes ” so that busy people will be able to eat “healthy” at home.

I am not a chef. I hate, hate, hate onions. Plus I’m just picky about food anyway. Give me a can of Spaghettios and some Kool-Aid; I’ll be a happy girl. Plus it only cost $5.00 at most for the entire meal.

The box meals – Blue Apron for example,

cost $35-$100 depending on the company and contract you have to include.

Send me the brownies from the copper stuff instead.

I already have the coloring books and “My Pillows”

a couple of mini-cooker thing scopper socks, lipstick with flowers in it, a “Snuggie” and the list goes on.

They got me.

I didn’t even know that I needed a Winnie the Pooh Chia plant!

My husband and I are on a mission! We WILL change the channel before the “Pocket Hose” stretches itself out, and the “Flex Seal” saves the boat from sinking.

It’s almost a competition now! (Okay take out the word almost…)

Cindy Crawford and her special -yet found with regular household ingredients, makeup whatever? I will use my ninja skills, grab that remote, and change the channel before your mole stares back at me!

🐾Woo Paw!🐾

Props to the Psychologists who figured out the algorithm of human shopping. Your parents must be so proud.