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Friday, June 17, 2016

The time my bladder revolted: the struggle is real

I don't know how it started.  I don't know why.  Maybe I should have listen to Karen and avoided the pond?  (Karen, I LOVE THE POND.)  I'm not sure.  What I do know is that my bladder was angry.  Angry like an old man in the sea.  Or something.  It was pretty angry.  10/10 ticked off.

Initially, I paused for a moment in life and looked up like a question mark was floating in a pillowy cloud above my head.  Is my bladder hurting?  It kind of feels like it's hurting.  Meh.  I probably just need to drink more water.  Okay.  Let's do that.

Fast forward to two days later.  Okay, folks, this bladder is getting seriously ticked off.  I need to do something.  A few sprays of silver ought to do the trick.

Oh, wait!  Maybe you don't know.  Are you one of the millions of people who are responding to this fascinating path of thought with, "Why didn't you just go to the freaking doctor?"  Yeah.  About that.  So, I don't really go to the doctor unless one of my limbs is laying in a bloody pile on the ground or I can see an organ coming outside of my body.  These haven't happened (yet), so I've been doctor-free for quite a while.  The rest of the crap I take care of myself.  Strep throat?  Got it.  Sinus infection?  On it.  Cold, flu, etc.  No problem.  I love the challenge!  BRING IT ON.

I can hear you already asking me why.  Really?  Okay.  I'll tell you two reasons why:

1.  Iatrogenesis is the 3rd leading cause of death in this country.  What's iatrogenesis?  It's when you get correctly treated by a (conventional) medical professional AND DIE.  This does not include being misdiagnosed, under or overprescribed, given different pharmaceuticals accidentally, getting your liver cut out instead of your gallbladder, or any of those things.  This is death by traditional and correct Western medical treatment.  Only cancer and heart disease are in front of correct medical treatment.  No offense, but this doesn't inspire tons of confidence for me, especially when I've found a pile of herbal and crunchy ways that work without side effects.

2.  Antibiotics are pure Satan.  They kill off your entire gut system.  New stuff is coming out on the horizons of discovery finding that there are more bacterial cells in your body than there are human cells.  Nope, you didn't even hear what I just said.  Let me say that again.  There are more bacterial cells in your body than there are human cells.  Antibiotics nuke the whole thing, the good, the bad, the helpful, the ugly.  Take those billions and make them ground zero.  70-80% of your immune system is in your gut.  Nuke the crap out of that while you're there.  Your endothelial layer is compromised and destroyed by antibiotics, allowing a break in that beautiful one-cell layer thick puppy, and then you have a host of horrible going on in your entire body (think intestinal permeability, a.k.a. "leaky gut" syndrome).  You contribute to the rise of the "superbug" by joining the masses and jumping on the antibiotic bus.  There's stuff out there that has become resistant to all the antibiotic ammo we have on the shelf.  That is the death of an era, my friends.  Move on or die.

By day four, I had no energy and a fever.  I was to meet up with my friends for coffee in the evening after a kid's baseball game, and I sat there like a pathetic little blob.  It was warm in the coffee shop  and I was already sweaty and unwell and I had to duck out early.  This is tragic as I usually love to lead shenanigans and uproar, but home I sadly trudged to curl up into a little antisocial ball.

(Did I keep swimming in the morning?  Why yes, of course.  Does that make sense?  No.  I know.)

I was getting progressively worse so that by Sunday afternoon (day 7), I took a four hour heavy coma nap - the kind that you try to wake up and open your eyes, but even in your dreams you are unsuccessful at doing so.  I didn't even eat lunch that day (if you know me, you know this is alarming) and I was receiving threats to be taken in to the local Urgent Care or the ER.  I fended them off with all the strength I could muster.  I'm too tired to even stand up to walk to a vehicle to go, so let's just say this isn't going to work out.  I just need to sleep.  That night was when I hit the desperate wall.  I couldn't stand up from pain, had the chills, and was so uncomfortable I couldn't stand being in my own body.  I called the MD on call.  This was desperation and defeat all in one.

ow, my life hurts, but at least I'm an artist
I explained that I had a bladder infection and asked him what he would recommend.  He sent a prescription for an antibiotic to what was supposed to be the only open local pharmacy at that time, although when he pulled up my record, he said he was not very inclined to do so as I hadn't been to the office in about 3 years (what?!  I've been well!).  After I made dinner, I planned to walk my hunchback positioned self to the vehicle and make the sad trek to the pharmacy (but was intercepted by my husband who volunteered to go for me - usually I would insist on going, but as I could barely walk to the garage, I figured it might be a good idea).  He called me 20 minutes later to let me know that the pharmacy was closed.

Okay?  God?  Am I not supposed to take this prescription?  Is this how I get the message?  Ummm...?

I had kicked in some serious concoctions by this time (silver at a correct dose, oil of oregano, usnea uva ursi, probiotics, horrible awful pressed organic cranberry juice, double turmeric, Vitamin C, bone broth, and a non-inflammatory diet) and was getting marginally better by the next day (translation: I could stand up straight without pain).  The evenings were always quite worse, however.  It was like I used up too much energy during the day and the bad guys took over at night.  I skipped swimming (now you should be really shocked).

I didn't go to the pharmacy the next day because I figured I was getting much better.  At this, I received many loving death threats from my friends and family.  I was sweetly told , "I know it blows goats, but...take the pills, you dumba--!" by one friend, a dubsmash from another that said, "I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you."  (They love me and this is how I know.)  Another said, "Just take them!  Yeesh!  You can go back to your clean life after you get rid of the infection!  Antibiotics work ya know!"  I love these people.  It was almost like they were trying to tell me something.

Did I listen?  Well, no.

I was forced to go to the pharmacy the next morning by my bossy husband who said before I did anything (I had an 8:30 meeting), I was to go and pick up that prescription OR ELSE.  Meh.  Fine.

(He didn't say I had to take the prescription, only that I had to get it.  I'm so awesome.)

I left it in packaging for a few days and then put it up in the cupboard in case I was dying at some future point, which is what it would practically take for me to ingest one of those toxic things.

Now here is the problem.  I could go on like this fighting it and being moderately sick for an indefinite amount of time, but I am up against a wall.  I have a triathlon in 5 days.  I have that large muscle fatigue that you feel after you have the flu.  I can't do a tri like this (and win anything).  This is terrifying.

I missed swimming again today because for some weird reason, I don't feel super great after I swim.  I feel the tired of a thousand years.  BUT I NEED TO PRACTICE FOR THE TRI!

This rock and a hard place is very distressing for me.

I sit here at my laptop typing this out with the toxic bottle staring at me, pulled out of the cupboard for the first time, the quandry looming over me.  It sits to the left of my laptop, beyond my pink water bottle, not so far from the probiotics, looking up at me, taunting me.  "May cause diarrhea.  If persists or becomes severe, notify DR or RPH.  Diarrhea may occur weeks to months after taking drug."  ARGH!!  That's because you'd be stripping my good happy bacteria!  UGH!  What do I do?!

So far, it's sit here and argue with myself and debate the funeral of my endothelial layer or forcing myself to sleep for the next 4 days without any running, swimming, or biking, and thus, being quite rusty for the tri (not to mention irritated and boiling mad from lack of exercise).

This is awful.

Go ahead.  Weigh in.  Tell me what you would do.  I am desperate enough that I actually may listen.  Maybe.  Probably.

Peace, love, and God help me,
Ms. Daisy

Thursday, June 16, 2016

Irony, a little bit wrinkly

Do you ever feel as if you're part of a Seinfeld episode?  It's like slight comedic irony, and you're in the middle of it.

Such a thing recently happened to me and I found it to be rather potently ironic.

Before I begin, I need you to set aside your firm belief that you hold dearly to your sweet little heart regarding your very (obviously) correct stance on vaccinations.  The main gist here is not to debate vaccinations; it is merely the space for me to express twinges of irony.  So, please, and thank you.

We can debate that on another post, I'm happy to do so.  Debate makes me ecstatic, actually.  Fires me up real nice like, gets my blood pumping all happy and my brain whirring madly.  Even when you adamantly disagree with me, I'll still usually be thrilled with you for participating in debate for the sheer joy of it all.  (You don't have to cringe, peacemakers, it's simply how some of us are wired.)

Meanwhile, back at the ranch.

The state in which I live requires by law that if you are not current on the vaccinations of your offspring and want to enroll them in school, you must to go to a brainwashing session and sign statements that you are essentially a horrid person, member of society, and most importantly, parent.  You mustn't change the wording one iota, you must sign it as the almighty state declares it.  Otherwise, no school.  You may still claim non-medical exemptions (religious: I'm not cool with injecting aborted or otherwise fetal cells into my child; philosophical: vaccinations do not work except in very specific diseases, the dangers outweigh the potential benefits, I hate The Man, I think injecting aluminum or mercury - ethyl or methyl - into your bloodstream at any level is idiotic, whatever.).  You may also claim medical exemptions, as in your child was previously vaccine damaged or had a significant reaction.

When you do this, you must go and "be educated" by a nurse who is an agent of the county health department and have a waiver signed and stamped to prove that you went to his or her re-education (potentially, but not necessarily, in Room 101) session.  You wouldn't think of doing anything otherwise, would you, you Delta?  Nice khaki, btw.

I was not thrilled to be subjected to the state in such a manhandling type of tyrant and anti-freedomesque way, but after I thought about it for a little while, I realized that you will never change anything big without some form of conflict and that I ought to man up, pull up the big girl panties and dive in headfirst.  If they want to discuss vaccines, I will be ready.  I know why I believe what I do, and I know why I've chosen what I have for my littles, so their methods of potential intimidation and strong-arming me were of no consequence.

I am a firm believer in that how you are perceived on the outside is going to have some effect on how people treat you.  You may wish this were not so, but imagine with me, if you will - if you show up to an interview with a CEO of a Fortune 500 company with a Mickey Mouse t-shirt, ripped jean shorts, and dirty flip flops hoping to get hired on your wit and charm as a top level exec, you may have just taken a large dump on your chances.  I had a meeting with a client that day, so I was wearing a professional outfit, and I brought along my laptop for notes and ammo (if it was going to get down and dirty).  I was prepared inside and out.

As I approached the door of the building, I noticed that in order to be let in, you had to be buzzed in.  In I went.  The office within the building had the same setup, so I had to be buzzed in again.  Why is the county health department under such tight security?  This seems a bit odd to me.  Do they have a lot of people with communicable diseases banging down their doors and windows?  (Get out of here, you Ebola face!)  Or are they afraid that anti-vaxxers are going to protest them?  Either way (or whether for some other reason), I still found it to be slightly off putting.  Maybe it is for the psychological factor instead.  At any rate, that was the setup.

I was led into an otherwise starkly decorated and outdated waiting room filled with propaganda posters (of which I took a video so that I could gag and roll my eyes later for whenever my heart desired).  I sat down in that nice cushy, brown, upholstered chair and popped out my laptop and did some work.

After a few minutes, the re-education nurse appeared in the doorway to escort me to her office.

Please do not take this the wrong way.  Just listen to me and hear me out.  Let us reason together, shall we?

The middle-aged woman who appeared in the doorway was supposed to be my educator for wellness.  As an agent of the state in this specific jurisdiction and as a nurse, she ought to be a proponent for health, which would reflect in her own person, her habits, and in her lifestyle.  I fully expected her to be healthy and well with her vast knowledge of health, medicine, and wellness.  The woman who appeared in the doorway did not represent health.  She represented the epitome of morbidly obese.  From what I guessed her biometrics to be, her BMI would have been near 60.  She had a significant difficulty walking because of it.

Hold up, before you think I am prejudiced against the obese.  I understand that there are people out there who have conditions that affect weight.  I know that there are people with thyroid issues that mess up your weight, your metabolism, and all the rest.  I understand that your genetics play a factor in your weight.  I get it.  Perhaps all of these things were true for her.  I didn't ask.  That isn't the point.  The point is that she was not well.  She could not walk!  The underlying reason was unknown to me, but the blatant fact was clear - she was not the image of someone in good health, yet she was going to instruct me on topics of health and wellness!

I sat down at the desk in her (also starkly decorated) office and took a quick look around at my surroundings.  Her desk was very plain, but it contained a few things that sent warning signals off in my head.  There was the occasional pile of paper, but my eyes landed on the few non-paper items on her desk: an Arby's disposable cup filled with a dark brown liquid, a highly perfumed and scented lotion from a well-known lotiony store, and a Costco-sized container with a pump top of an anti-bacterial hand goo.

Dear holy God in heaven above, please help this lady!  Do you not know that your weight is likely connected to your endocrine system and you are murdering it in every direction?  I've been here for four seconds and I can tell you three things that you are doing that are torturing your hormones and screwing with your metabolism!  You're a NURSE for Pete's sake!  Do you really not know this or are you just ignoring the information that is out there that would help you to feel better, lose weight, and have more energy?  If the former, then why are you educating me on what it is to be well when you don't know it yourself?  If it is the latter, what other information are you ignoring in order to get through your life?

Your dark brown liquid (please say this isn't a diet pop, please, please, tell me it isn't) likely contains a cauldron of chemicals that affect your calcium and phosphorus balance in your body, enough sugar to make you sprint your way to Type II diabetes, ruin your immune system, and artificial flavors and colors (Caramel color?  Oh that's just ammonia burned with sugar.  That's probably really good for you.).  The smelly lotion that is sitting on your desk is a bazooka to your endocrine system and a pile of parabens just waiting to water and plant cancerous seeds into your body.  The antibac goo shines gloriously in triclosan, which fosters endocrine disruption, bacterial and compounded antibacterial resistance, not to mention how it also contaminates our water system and pollutes the world (and yes, of course it's banned in Europe, but we're always behind in what we allow because the government is too busy making out with the companies who make the chemicals to be bothered with the health of the masses to do anything).

But please, tell me how I can be healthy and make my offspring so.

I suppose we don't really have to make sense when we're working with the government, but this is mind-blowingly insane.

She sneezed.  She said that the weather was wonderful, but for allergy sufferers, it was really something else.  She reached over and pumped a large glob of goo onto her hands and slathered it all over herself.  My soul inside my body was doing that thing that you used to do as a child when you slinked down your chair at the table and onto the floor like a spineless snake.  The frustration, irony, and pathetic nature of it all could not be contained.  (She needs Norwex.  I shall help.)

She handed me a pile of lovely pastel papers listing the reasons the CDC declared it utterly and completely safe to inject infants, babies, and children with vaccines, even though they contain polysorbate-80 (infertility agent), formaldehyde (carcinogen), thimerosal (neurotoxin), aborted fetal tissue, aluminum derivatives (Alzheimer's please), MSG (excitotoxin), sorbitol/aspertame/sucrose (ohhhhhhmyyyyyyyyyyygooooooooooosh), chick embryos, monkey cells, mouse serum proteins, vesicle fluid from calf skins, and so much more.

The bottom line is this - if you are going to be a representative of good health, you ought to be generally well.  Yes, there are times of illness, obviously.  That's life.  Yes, there are times when you do something stupid that will affect your health.  There are times when you just choose that chocolate cake over carrots, and that may be your moderation.  I get it.  But if you are specifically employed to educate people on health and wellness and disease avoidance, should you not exemplify some aspects of wellness?

My dear friends who are physicians and nurses and health coaches - we've got to be the example.  How will people believe you otherwise?  Why should they?  Please take care of yourselves so you can take care of others.  Who else will lead the world in a charge toward health?  We need you.  May I encourage and implore you to fulfill your calling well.

You know I totally am going to sell that lady some Norwex and yes, I did give her my health coaching card.

She told me that if my offspring weren't updated next year and each year following on their vaccinations that I'd need to come back and do this annually.

See you next year, my dear.

Peace, love, and please be well,
Ms. Daisy

Saturday, April 9, 2016

Ms. Daisy's 100 Little Things to Be Happy About

Hey lovies.  Yes, I know, it's been a while.  I have been working on getting a business started while doing school, creating a website for the business, running the usual household things and the chickens, teaching, and keeping the plates spinning, so I haven't had a lot left over to pour out in this direction.

Alas!  I am here for the moment and I wanted to give this to you.

Life is funny, isn't it?  Sometimes it's just so darn funny, it's not even funny.  In those times, you might just need to remember the good things that are out there - things that don't deplete your wallet (that much, anyway), and things that just make you smile because of what they are.  With that in mind, I wrote up a list of things that make me happy.  I've seen other people do similar things, but I am pretty sure I'm the only one whose list includes the entry "butter in general" (see #55).  I wouldn't want to deprive you of such illustrious things, and so I am here to share.

(p.s. I met up with a friend I haven't seen in a decade or more and she brought me a present!  What was it?  Why, a 3 pack of Kerrygold grass fed butter, of course!  Thank you, dear!)

Without further ado, may I present to you - Ms. Daisy's 100 Little Things to Be Happy About

  1. A hot bath right before bed.
  2. Seeing your kid swinging happily on the swing when they don’t know you’re watching.
  3. The one cup of hot black tea you have at breakfast.
  4. Laying with eyes closed in the sunshine.
  5. Having a conversation and a cup of tea with someone who makes you happy.
  6. Being in the middle of an amazing book.
  7. Speaking to someone in another language.
  8. Hitting the bullseye on the first try.
  9. When your favorite flavor of Kevita is available and on sale.
  10. Oboro incense.
  11. Smelling something that flashes you back to a moment in your life and it’s so real, you can see and feel it.
  12. When you must do the laundry and the basement is cold, but you can wrap a large hot towel around yourself and stick your head into the dryer and take a pretend nap on the warm clothes.
  13. Finally sitting down after being on your feet all day.
  14. What your kitchen/fridge/house/bathroom/vehicle looks like when it is perfectly clean.
  15. Cracking an egg into a butter-filled cast iron pan that is so fresh, it’s still warm.
  16. Jumping into the pool (or a lake) and watching the bubbles rise up around you.
  17. Staring at the sky in the middle of the summer at sunset floating on your back in the middle of a lake.
  18. Showering outside.
  19. Finishing a triathlon.
  20. The lateness of sunset in the summer.
  21. Walking barefoot in the grass when it’s warm.
  22. Hopping fences.
  23. Cartwheels.
  24. Getting paid to do what you thrive on.
  25. The feeling right when the plane lifts off of the ground.
  26. Sleeping until you wake up on your own.
  27. New York City.
  28. Having a passionate intellectual argument.
  29. Laughing until you can’t breathe.
  30. Falling asleep with the window open.
  31. Being able to fix something for someone.
  32. Saunas.
  33. The feeling of an amazing foot massage.
  34. Falling asleep when you are exhausted.
  35. Getting a package in the mail.
  36. Writing with a black Bic gel ink pen in bold 1.0.
  37. Writing (or reading) a poem that expresses exactly where you are at that moment.
  38. When herbs first sprout in tiny pots on your windowsill.
  39. Digging your toes in the sand at the beach and not having anything requiring your immediate attention.
  40. Getting a hug when you really needed one.
  41. Lying in bed and realizing you got everything done you needed to that day.
  42. Driving really fast (safely, of course).
  43. Going for a run that exhausts your body, clears your mind, and alleviates your soul.
  44. Painting your nails your favorite color.
  45. Being alone in your own space.
  46. Having a happy dream that when you wake up, it seems like it might really have happened.
  47. Getting a text that makes you burst into laughter.
  48. Re-reading a text that makes you sigh happily.
  49. Watching your itty bitties sleep.
  50. Seeing the sunrise from the woods.
  51. The memory of epic youthful shenanigans.
  52. Mission Peninsula.
  53. Being genuinely happy for someone else’s good news.
  54. Homemade bread with grass-fed butter.
  55. Butter in general.
  56. Being the person that someone wants to tell their new news to.
  57. Your favorite classical/jazz music piece.
  58. Finding the perfect gift for someone.
  59. When it’s been raining all day and then the sun peeks out brilliantly and overpoweringly.
  60. Getting to see ancient art in person (and wondering how many eyes and generations across the whole world have taken in that same painting/sculpture).
  61. Really great foodie-grade (dark, obviously) chocolate.
  62. The mountains.
  63. The first day that it feels like summer of the year.
  64. Seeing a hummingbird.
  65. Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen.
  66. The scent of your lovies.
  67. Looking at your friend and knowing exactly what they’re thinking at that moment.
  68. PR-ing a race.
  69. The silence, the movement, and the freedom of swimming underwater.
  70. New running shoes, a new endurance suit.
  71. A good hair day.
  72. Teaching someone something and getting to watch the light bulb turn on in their head.
  73. Delicious, wonderful, amazing, hippie scented patchouli lotion.
  74. Your favorite undies.
  75. Finding someone who understands you.
  76. An exceptionally beautiful face.
  77. The vibrant green-ness of the grass in spring.
  78. Campfires, fireplaces.
  79. A hot washcloth covering your whole face.
  80. Knowing that life usually works out just fine.
  81. Learning.
  82. Daisies and tulips.
  83. Running past apple blossom trees in full bloom.
  84. Seeing good friends again from a lifetime ago.
  85. Summer + live music + outside + your favorite drink
  86. Orion in the night/early morning sky.
  87. Buffalo meat.
  88. Listening to somebody’s story.
  89. Flying down a hill on your bike.
  90. Getting a massage when you are so sore that you involuntarily cry-laugh-drool-gasp in reaction to muscle pressure.  Stop!  No, go.  Stop! Go! Ow! More!
  91. Getting in a(n outside) hot tub after skiing (or swimming/running/biking) especially while it is snowing.
  92. The first red, ripe, garden tomato of the season.
  93. Icelandic full-fat yogurt.
  94. Getting into a bed of just-washed sheets and a super fluffy down comforter.
  95. Falling asleep to your hair being played with.
  96. Night swimming.
  97. Listening to your little one laugh ridiculously at something ridiculous.
  98. The way Londoners speak.
  99. Kitchen dancing. 
  100. The thought that you can change the world for the better a little bit every day.
Yes, it may be unique to me, but perhaps some things resonate with you also.  If they don't, well then, get yourself your own piece of paper and start making your own list.  In fact, I'd love to hear it.  Wanna share?  Comment below.  I read every single comment.

Peace, love, and focus on the happy,
Ms. Daisy

Saturday, January 2, 2016

What are you reading?

Happy New Year, dearies!  

It's a good of a time as any to pick up a book.  I suppose it could even go along with a New Year's resolution (just kidding).  

What have you been reading?  Anything interesting?  

I read quite a bit, but don't always post on Ms. Daisy's Reading Club.  I suppose I might have to admit that sometimes it is out of laziness for not wanting to write a post about it, and other times I am just determined to be secretive about what I'm reading (muahahahahaha).  Okay, not really.  I just don't write book reports on every book I read.  You don't either, do you?

If you would like to share with me what you're reading, I'll be more than happy to listen, and if it sounds quite interesting, I'll be even happier to send out a request to the library to have it brought in so that I might read it.  I prefer non-fiction, and will read anything from science and geography to history and the ever exciting peer-reviewed journals of medical literature.  I used to be a fan of fiction, and I will very occasionally read a fiction book here and there, but only if it makes me laugh aloud.  (Otherwise I am quite content for you to keep your Danielle Steel books collecting dust on the shelf.  No offense.)

In the meantime, if you're looking for something to read, I have recently been reading biographies.  The first is on the scandalously exciting life of Warren G. Harding (the 29th President of the United States) and the current book is on Cleopatra the Great.

If you're interested in either of those, I have a little blip on them over in the other side of the blog.

Warren G. Harding's book is here.

Cleopatra the Great's book is here.

That's it for now.  I hope you've had a very peaceful and happy New Year so far.  

May your 2016 be the best one ever.

Peace, love, and take a deep breath,
Ms. Daisy 

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

A letter to the Resolutionists

Dear Resolutionists,

Hey, how's it going?  It's been a while since we've seen you around - like maybe 11 months or so.  Are you really going to do this again this year or do you think you can just skip it?

Don't take that the wrong way.  I'm not trying to be mean.  

Here's the thing: you really just don't care about exercising and health and I don't know why you're pretending to do it because you bought a new calendar.  You're using this momentus occasion to flip the switch in your brain from brownie-eating couch potato to what you hope to be a svelte Ironman.  

You got it twisted, bro (or homegirl).  You're doing it because you ate a gluttonous amount of Halloween candy, turkey at Thanksgiving, and everything in sight at the 4(0) Christmas and holiday parties you attended, and now you're looking at the scale with a horrified grimace, wondering how you got there.  You got there because it's your lifestyle.  It's what you like to do.

If you're not going to adopt exercise as part of your lifestyle instead of a Hail Mary to lose the ten pounds you gained in the last 4 months, what's the point?  

Our society loves quick fixes and pills to cover our real problems.  A healthy lifestyle isn't a pill.  It's your whole way of life.  It's your whole brain and your outlook.  Exercising to lose 10 pounds starting January 1 (cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye) is the equivalent of making your own quick fix.  What about you wanting to live a bit longer than the track you're on?  What about eating for health because it makes you feel awesome, energized, and clearheaded?  What about giving your body real nutrition so you can fight sickness, avoid lifestyle diseases, and live healthy and well (and be able to do what you're supposed to do)?  What about exercising and eating so you can do the things on your bucket list?

Nah, whatever.  What am I saying?  It's just another year, just like the one before it and the one before that.  

One day, however, that January calendar will be the last one you buy.  I hope when you get there, you don't look back with the same horrified grimace.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it.  Life is more than clothes, and the body more than food.  If you don't have that straight, then your whole life is wasted.  But it sure is a lot easier to do what you're called to do when you have energy and endurance.

So, if you don't want to make it a way of life, maybe you should just sleep in.  The regulars like their parking spots, their lockers and their lanes.  

You mad, bro?  You're a Resolutionist.  Man up.  You get one life.  Do it, don't waste it.

Peace, love, and you don't have to wait until Friday,
Ms. Daisy

Sunday, November 22, 2015

I hate the Mockingjay 2 movie

I am about to go off into a flying rage about the Hunger Games: Mockingjay 2 movie.  If you haven't seen it but want to, I am going to include the ending of this movie in this rant so you may want to go elsewhere.

That was your warning.

I watched the first movie whenever it was that it came out and it was horribly disturbing to me.  The thought of sending people to kill each other in a fake weird televised cyberworld for entertainment is so sick and perverse that I couldn't get it out of my head for a week straight.  I wanted to puke when I thought of it.  

On Friday night I saw Mockingjay 2, the last of the Hunger Games trilogy. 

This movie is HORRIBLE.  (I can hear all of the faithful fans screaming, "Why?!")

Peeta.  That's why.

That and the blatant disdain for manly testosterone and the promotion of wimpy pansy pants men with zero cojones, you know, like Peeta.

Ga ga goo goo?
At the end of the movie, Katniss got out of her bed, walked down the hall, climbed into bed with lame Peeta (since he doesn't have a house and she is providing that for him, too), and he said, "You love me, real or not real?"  Now, I have to tell you, up to this point I had no question in my mind that she would eventually marry or be with Gale and that if she loved Peeta it was only because he was like some kind of suffering baby animal.  I figured she was using stupid Peeta (although I had no idea what for, since his positive qualities are: 1. can bake bread, and 2. can plant flowers.  I'm sure that Katniss could take care of figuring out how to get that done herself in about five minutes, so why would she want to hang around sad sack?) or she felt sorry for him since his brain was poisoned by Dictator Snow and she was just making sure to hang around him long enough until she knew he got better and then she could leave and go be with a real man.

Are you keeding me?

 When she said that she did love him, I literally put my hands on my head and closed my eyes.  MIND BLOWN.  What the HECK is going on around here?!  At this point of the movie, I almost got up and left.  I silently began muttering, "No.  You have got to be kidding me.  This is not happening."  The movie was ruined at that point and I could barely recall any redeeming qualities about why I wanted to see this stupid thing in the first place.

Peeta?  You want to be with Peeta, Katniss?  Are you freaking kidding me?  First of all, do you have a sight impairment?  Maybe you're legally blind?  Maybe you have severe dementia?  Yes, I know, looks are not everything.  I get that.  But seriously?  Have you seen Gale?  He's tall and extremely good-looking...and he's a soldier.  He protected your family, he can fight like a boss, he goes out in the woods and hunts with you, and he is capable of taking care of himself and you.  

 
Just on looks alone, Gale would have to be a murdering, molesting, crack dealer who eats children for breakfast in order for Peeta to even be able to be put into the same ring with him to compete.

And then there's Peeta.  He's short, has weird eyeballs, fluffy hobbit hair, he cries a lot, can't be trusted with any weapons, can't even take care of himself, and his favorite thought is probably, "Save me, Katniss!"  (That had to be said with a scrunched up baby face, pinkies in the air, and hands flapping for full effect.  Try it again.  There.  Now you get the full effect.)  Oh, but he can bake bread, so yeah, I mean, I totally get it.  Sign me up.  Right.  Why would any woman not be jumping at that one?  I'll bake my own dang bread, thankyouverymuch.  He is pretty much the definition of pure 100% unadulterated pansy.

I was literally bewildered at this twist of the movie.  

The complement of a strong woman is not a weak man.  The complement of a strong woman is a stronger man.  Katniss' character showed that she is more than capable of taking care of herself, which is what makes Gale's character so appealing as a match for her.  When you solely take care of yourself, it is even more special to have someone to be able to step in and take care of you.  You don't need it, but it is a gift.  It makes it all the more sweet and precious.  He was going to go with her when he figured out that she was going to go it alone.  He knew her and understood her enough to even see what she was going to do before she did it.  

Instead she picks painter pansy Peeta who we find playing in the dirt planting flowers.  Really?  And then has children with him?  What are you going to do if a bad guy comes to your house?
 

Peeta:  Katniss!  Help!  There's a bad guy at the door!
Katniss: Peeta, take the children and go hide and pretend to be rocks, I'll take care of this!  I have enough cojones for all of us!

My eyes are hurting from rolling so hard at the pathetic-ness of it.  Somebody give Peeta a lesson on sisu and push him out of a helicopter, please.

Perpetuating wimpiness (in general, but specifically in men) is not something to be applauded or rewarded.  This is perhaps what bothers me most about the movie.  So ugh.

Excuse me, I need to go do some pull ups.

Peace, love, and testosterone,
Ms. Daisy

 


Wednesday, November 4, 2015

The Hilarious Canadian News

I don't know how you feel about Canada.  Perhaps you feel the same way you do about Canada as you do for Switzerland.  They're just one of those nice countries that doesn't bother the other ones, and even though they are socialists and have universal health care and are generally unarmed, most of the people are considerably more alert and better educated than your average run-of-the-mill type in the United States.

I love to listen to CBC Radio 2 on the way home from swimming in the morning to hear their news, because any propaganda being barfed out on an American station is so insanely slanted and idiotic that I just end up gagging and yelling at the radio, and really - who wants to start their day off like that?  Not me.  So on with the Canadian station it is.

Their national news is about one billion gallons less narcissistic than the American news, and that is grand (Oh wait, there are other countries out there?!  Pish posh, don't be silly, of course there are.  And they are only important as long as they have a direct effect upon us.  Duh.  Talk about those only.  And do it from the perspective of how they probably should work a little harder to benefit us.).  I appreciate that Canadian aspect, but what I really tune in for is the entertainment of their local news.


I live in a place that if I tuned in to local news, it would be the news of Detroit.  Do you know what that looks like?  I just checked.  It looks like this: police officer's trial begins today for beating a motorist in their car, rape kits arrive in Detroit, apartments burn on Detroit's west side, man found dead of strangulation after a fire, woman won't be charged in son's fatal shooting, and cameras capture thief breaking in to gas station.  I am not even keeding.  Those are the headlines for today.  They're pretty much the same everyday, give or take a few rapes and murders.

HOWEVER.

In Windsor, across the river, we have a different kind of news going on.  It is refreshing and hilarious.

On CBC Radio 2, there is a lovely Englishman, Pete Morey, who subs in for Tom Power when he's out - and everyone likes to listen to a good English accent in the morning, so that's a win.  On the local news, you've got my favorite news person, Peter Dock (he's local to Windsor).  I have no idea what he looks like, but I imagine him to be very serious.  You should hear his voice.  He is so somber, matter-of-fact, and direct, I can barely stand it.  He is my favorite.  He seems so serious that I imagine myself meeting him, sprinting up to him with the most gleeful face, grabbing onto his shoulders and jumping up and down in front of him, gushing that he is my FAVORITE news person in the world.  If I had to guess, I think this would embarrass him, mostly from the overabundance of emotion I would be showing at that point, especially considering his apparent penchant for being excessively reserved.  That right there would make me even happier.  Stir it up?  YES, PLEASE!
 
What I am about to tell you is not a joke.  This was REALLY ON THE NEWS.  Peter Dock actually reported this this morning.  When he did, I erupted into laughter in the car so vivaciously that even I was amused at myself.

After they reported a building fire, Peter Dock came out with the stunning news that nearly ran me right off of the road.  Please, be seated before you read this.

It went something like this: "A teacher in LaSalle distributed a spelling sheet that included American spellings.  The word 'color' was spelled without the 'u', and the sheet also asked the students what state they lived in (said with much disdain).  The superintendent was notified and has corrected the teacher."

I love you, Canada.  This is the funniest news I have ever heard in my life.  It's sure a heck of a lot better than rape kits and being strangled and burnt to death.

Rock on.

Peace, love, and please do not pronounce Quebec with a "kw" sound (it's "ke-beck"),
Ms. Daisy

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