I'm not an overly-sentimental guy. Sure I have experiences that I treasure and I guess thinking about them could be considered sentimentality... but I don't really view it that way. One area that I fully admit being sentimental about is food. It just pushes all the sensory memory buttons for me. For my Washington grandma, her apple pie was truly epic. Award-winning epic. Mind-bogglingly epic. For my California grandma, it was her incredible enchiladas that send me. I make them more often than is probably healthy, but it was something I associate with her so deeply that it goes beyond a memory. It's a connection with how I remember her.

This is getting somewhere I promise.

Another thing that my California grandma made that I love is "Magic Marshmallow Rolls." I remember very, very well the first time I got to eat them. They were just beyond anything I had ever had before. Melt in your mouth incredible. My mom got the recipe from her, made them from time to time (but never often enough), and once I became an adult I got the recipe and started making them for myself. But then I became a vegetarian, so the gelatin in marshmallows meant that I don't make them very often now. I wish there was a vegetarian marshmallow that worked the same, but it doesn't seem to work that way. Oh well.

Fast-forward to earlier this week.

I needed to place a grocery delivery order on Monday night for delivery Tuesday morning. I decided that I would order the large marshmallows and crescent rolls required for Magic Marshmallow Rolls. Essentially you coat a marshmallow in melted butter with sugar and cinnamon then wrap the crescent roll dough around it. When you cook it, the marshmallow melts and disappears, leaving behind sweet, gooey goodness. It's for this reason that they are also called "Jesus Resurrection Rolls" or "Easter Empty Tomb Rolls"... assumably Jesus is supposed to be the marshmallow in this scenario, and he disappears from his crescent dough "tomb" when he gets "resurrected."

Then yesterday morning I got a notification that Safeway had made substitutions on my order.

The Jet-Puffed large marshmallows were out of stock.

They asked if they could substitute mini marshmallows. And my only option is to click "Yes" or "No." You can't talk to the shopper and ask them to substitute with a different brand of large marshmallows like you can with Instacart. You can select a substitution before you send your order, but it takes a lot of time to go through every item, so I often skip it.

I was mad.

How the fuck can I replace my single Large Jesus Marshmallow with a bunch of Tiny Jesus Marshmallows and get the dough to seal around them without it becoming a lumpy, leaky mess? If I had wanted mini marshmallows, I would have ordered them. Where is the correlation with this substitution? I guess it's for the people who don't care about the size... they only care that they're made by Jet-Puffed.

I don't get it.

It's like the time they wanted to substitute a pepperoni frozen pizza for the cheese pizza I had ordered. I'm a vegetarian. I don't eat meat. Which is why I ordered a cheese pizza. And it's like... in what universe does this make a lick of sense? So lesson learned. I now specify a pizza substitution that I can actually eat. And this week I learned I have to substitute large marshmallows with large marshmallows if I actually want large marshmallows.

If only I wasn't so lazy I'd be enjoying Jesus Resurrection Rolls right now.

Instead his tomb will have to wait until next week when I can =shudder= go to the store.

Every year I tell myself that I won't turn the heat on until October 1st. It's a noble goal that I fully intend to honor despite the fact that I always fail.

Year after year I'm turning the heat on at the end of September because it's just too darn cold in the mornings and evenings to go without. Bundling up in hoodies and blankets is not the same as actually being comfortable.

Just ask my cats.

I generally factor them out of the equation because they're walking around with fur coats on. And they still go outside in the catio, where it's far colder than in the house. Plus I put out kitty warming pads that they lay on to keep warm. So... whatever.

But, as I mentioned on Caturday, Jenny has started squeezing behind me on the couch... pushing and pushing until she makes a hole behind my back, then turns around and sits there to glom off my body heat...

It's cute... but it ain't comfortable.

Then this morning I woke up cold, which is never a good thing, so I finally relented and everybody is happy.

Well, my cats are never truly happy... but they're happier than they were yesterday.

I'm just going to be brutally honest: I am getting all the vaccines. I 1000% believe in the same science that's eradicated polio and allows me to have a phone /slash/ computer /slash/ camera in my pocket. So long as there's something that is tested and proven to help people survive COVID, I'm here for it. Especially as I get older and COVID keeps roaring back with new levels of hospitalizations and death.

I've got cats that are counting on me to be alive.

Today I got the new 2023 Super COVID Vaccine. The only reason I waited so long is that there were no appointments available when it arrived here on Tuesday. They don't have Pfizer in my neck of the woods yet, so I snatched up Moderna SpikeVax. My first dose was Pfizer so I've gotten all my boosters from their releases... but I researched and found that's not necessary any more.

This was COVID mRNA vaccine dose No. 6 for me and the easiest one yet. Zero arm soreness. Zero reaction.

I hope I didn't get a dud!

Next Friday they're having flu vaccinations at work and I'm getting that one too.

And when I'm eligible for the RSV and Pneumonia vaccines, I'm fucking rolling up on those two as well. If there's something out there to add any measure of protection in my declining years so I have better quality of life or... you know... don't end up dead? Bet that I'm in line for it.

Interesting to note that I was told by the nice lady jabbing me that there are no more boosters. It's just an annual COVID shot like the flu shot. I didn't know that. I'm a bit concerned at this though. Last I read they were worried that vaccine boosters weren't lasting the 6 months it took to get the next one... now they're lasting a YEAR? Here's hoping.

And then...

I never eat at Taco Bell anymore because I just can’t afford it, but I needed something to distract me from the fact that I’ve got THE DEVIL’S mRNA RUNNING THROUGH MY VEINS. My lunch with no drink: $18. Wow...

Remember when Taco Bell was affordable food?

It doesn't help that I have to pay for meat I have them take off.

But hey... it was delicious as always.

   
I worked 11-1/2 hours today. I'm done.

All week I've been trying to finish up a project that should have been finished last week. But something always came up. Which is why I was doubling down in committing myself that, come hell or high water, I would finish it up today.

And then I went in to the office. And was immediately hit with numerous crises that had nothing to do with my job, but needed to be handled by somebody which, alas, ended up being me.

Needless to say, I never even got to touch what I was planning on working on today.

Which means I'm working this weekend.

I thought Fridays were supposed to be the best day at work?

It's Labor Day and I'm actually taking the day off for once. After working day and night to complete a project over the last ten days, I deserve it.

Also... I really need to finish up a woodworking build so I can have the tile guy seal it into my kitchen tile for me. I got a good start on it early this morning... only to find out that the pricey poplar boards I bought from Home Depot were absolute shit. They warped ALONG THE LENGTH, which takes real effort to accomplish. I ran to Lowes and bought poplar boards that weren't skewed to hell and... get this... cost half as much.

I don't know why I ever buy wood from Home Depot. It's never that great, even when you pay extra for the pricey stuff.

I guess I just like the convenience because it's closer.

Lesson learned.

It's really tough to talk about the final years of my mom's life.

Dementia is a deeply cruel and terrible fate. Not just for the person afflicted with it, but those who care for them as well. In the five years since mom died, I find myself focusing on the many good memories I have and not thinking about the sad memories of how tough life became at the end. I think that's the way memories are supposed to work.

Except when they don't.

Yesterday as I was unloading the dishwasher I was stacking plates in the cupboard and was suddenly taken back.

In the last months that my mom was living with me, she became more confused and agitated. One of the ways that this was expressed was with violent outbursts that shocked me to my soul. My mom had most always been an exceedingly kind person, so to have her scream and attack me because she thought her son was "kidnapping her" took a large toll on my mental health. I couldn't resolve how the person she had been all her life would randomly disappear.

Telling myself that this "wasn't really who she was" and "it's the dementia talking" can only go so far when you're facing these challenges on a regular basis.

One of my biggest challenges was getting mom to eat.

At home, she never wanted to eat. I'd ask her what she was hungry for and she would always say she didn't want anything. Even if she hadn't eaten all day. I finally found a work-around when I realized that if we went out to a restaurant to eat, it was like a visual cue that she was supposed to be eating, and she would. So I would take her out for breakfast and dinner, but try and feed her a sandwich or snack for lunch.

As you can imagine, this became incredibly expensive. I simply couldn't afford to eat out every day. In the days leading up to payday I didn't have the funds, and tried my best to recreate the restaurant experience at home for dinner. Instead of eating on the couch in front of television, I'd set the table and try to get her to eat there. Sometimes it worked.

But sometimes it most definitely did not.

One time we were sat at the table to eat and I was trying to encourage her to try something. She became upset... then smacking dishes off the table. I tried my best to remain calm, asked her if maybe he wanted to take a nap, then lead her to her bedroom since she could never find it on her own by that point.

After the ten minutes I allowed myself to have a mental breakdown, I set to cleaning up the mess of broken glass along with the spaghetti, salad, and bread that was all over. My mom came out as I was cleaning up. I asked her if she couldn't sleep. She ignored me and asked what happened. There was no point in telling her that she had caused all this, so I said that I dropped some dishes when I was clearing the table.

Suddenly I had my mom back, and she was telling me to not feel bad as she helped me clean up.

Then she joked that maybe I should buy Corelle dishes since they wouldn't break.

Since I was running low on dishes (this was not the first time she had broken them because dementia makes you clumsy) I thought that buying Corelle was actually a great idea. So I did. And even though Corelle is not indestructible, the amount of breakage was drastically reduced.

Until even Corelle was too dangerous to risk, and I switched to Melamine plastic which is even safer from breakage (but not toxic chemicals, so there's a definite trade-off happening... but if you have dementia, it's hardly the concern it would normally be).

I still have the Melamine, which I only use when I host a barbecue or something... and even then I top them with a paper plate to protect from the toxicity you get when eating on the stuff. I still have the Corelle as well. But that's something I use daily. And it was unloading it from the dishwasher that took me back to less-than-great times, and the despair that goes along with it.

Whenever this happens, I make time to pull the photo albums I made for her from our trips and much better times...

That's my real mom right there.

And that gets me back to whatever my "normal" is now.

I haven't given a shit what people think of me for a long time now.

It's this irrefutable truth which allows me to keep blogging on the internet.

I left a discussion group last week because an asshole wouldn't stop going after people for things like spelling and grammar, even though the meaning was perfectly clear. I finally said something... essentially saying that gatekeeping the English language isn't the purpose of the discussion... then I left. This morning somebody still in the group copied some of the responses to my comment and sent them to me before she left too. The guy I replied to replied to me with something stupid, then other people jumped in and agreed with him. Proving that I made the right decision to go.

Liz Climo put this drama into vivid relief for me...

   
Those poor, poor people.

I've never understood the concept that men have to be abusive assholes in order to be considered "masculine." Is that really what society wants of us? Exploding with anger and being physically violent at the drop of a hat?

I have tried most of my life to not be that guy.

And it all started after my brother and I took a trip to Thailand.

All the men I encountered were exceedingly gentle, soft-spoken, and kind. They saw no need to be hostile or domineering in every situation. After a couple days of reading the teachings of The Buddha from the book that was in the nightstand, I understood that their gentleness was likely a function of their religion (something like 95% of the country is Buddhist).

Before visiting Thailand and being exposed to Buddhism I was a bitter, angry, volitile person who would have a meltdown if a bird pooped on my car. After visiting Thailand and being exposed to Buddhism I had a different view of the world and my place in it. The bird that pooped on my car wasn't attacking me. This was nothing personal. There is no benefit to being angry at a bird. It was just being a bird and doing what birds do, independent of me or my feelings.

I never became a Buddhist, but the precepts and teachings of The Buddha made me an entirely different person, and showed me who I wanted to be. Everything just made sense. At last. So while I still get angry, I just let it go instead of letting it eat away at my soul. Sometimes by blogging about it. I'm so much happier this way.

But anyway... my journey ran through my head after I happened across this TikTok (here's a link in case TikTok is being a dick)...

"My softness and my gentleness is an act of defiance."

That's a statement that's going to stick with me for the rest of my life.

Well, that was a day.

I need quite badly to put it behind me and chill.

Like this...

Maybe I'll just drink instead.