Day 1831: Bombs

We’ve been dealing with a few bombs here on the east coast of the USA, including

• a bomb cyclone of a winter storm and
• the bombshells in a new book about the Trump administration.

While many people around us had to suffer through flooding, power outages, and loss of heat, we somehow avoided those bombs.  Or, to quote another weapon-oriented phrase used by my bf (Boy Friend, Best Friend, Bomb deFuser) Michael: “We dodged a bullet, baby.”

Want to see some photos from yesterday and guess which one was not taken by me? Bombs away!

Here’s what happens when you search YouTube for “Trevor Noah bomb”:

Boom!

Gratitude incoming for all those who helped me write this post and — of course! — to you, no matter what bombs you’re dealing with today.

Day 1490: Dreams

Because dreams are so important to me, I’ve written several posts about dreams (including here, here, here, here, here, here,  and here) since I started dreaming this blog. When I look at those previous dreamy posts, I realize I wrote each one never dreaming we’d have the U.S. President we have today.

Last night, I woke up in the middle of the night from a very scary dream where morphing people and frightening creatures were staring me in the face and grasping me by the hand.  I immediately posted on Facebook:

I was having a bad dream and just woke up to another bad dream.

My friend Marc Zegans soon replied with this dream of a comment:

Here‘s something a little sweeter to dream by.

Before I had those dreams, I spent yesterday looking at a possible dream house for me and my dreamy boyfriend Michael with our dream of a real estate agent, Jane C. Hoffmann.

While I was taking photos of Jane, she was also taking photos of me and Michael (which was probably a nightmare for him, since he hates to have his picture taken).

Today, we might make an offer on a dreamy house by the sea in Quincy, Massachusetts. If we don’t end up in that dream house, we’ll end up in another one.

Quincy, by the way,  is called “The City of Presidents.”  I wonder if John Adams,  John Quincy Adams, or John Hancock — who were all born in Quincy —  ever dreamed we’d have the kind of U.S. President we have today.

In four days, I’ll be turning 64 years old, an age nobody ever dreamed I’d reach when I was born in 1953 with a very unusual heart.

I shall now look to all the other dreamy photos I took yesterday for ideas about how to live and dream in the future:

I trust you know I have the intelligence and integrity to express my thanks to all who helped me create this dream of a post and to you — of course! — for your dream of a visit, here and now.

Day 1486: You don’t want to do that

I don’t want to do overgeneralization (or any other cognitive distortion), but most people don’t want others to tell them what they do want or don’t want to do.

I don’t want to break confidentiality, so I won’t identify the person in therapy yesterday who expressed frustration with a family member who tells others what they want, don’t want, or otherwise experience.

I don’t want to brag, but two years ago I made a t-shirt that says, “The Expert on My Own Experience.” I don’t want to give that t-shirt away, but I think my therapy patient could use that t-shirt, especially when dealing with that opinionated family member.

I don’t want to be too negative about the near future, but I posted this on Facebook last night:

I survived open heart surgery, but how will my heart survive the next four years?

You don’t want to miss  all my photos from yesterday:

 

You don’t want to pay $20,078.33 for heart surgery, especially when that charge is the result of somebody entering the wrong diagnostic code.

 

You don’t want to live on Nathan Lane, because that would be uncomfortable for both of you.

You don’t want to watch Nathan Lane in Stephen Sondheim‘s A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum?  Then don’t.

 

You don’t want to leave a comment for this post? That’s okay, too.

You don’t want to go too long without expressing gratitude, so I want to thank everyone who helped me create this post and you — of course! — for wanting to visit here, now.

Day 1485: Ask

Ask for what you want.

Ask for what you need.

Ask for help.

Ask questions.

Ask without fear.

Ask and ye shall receive.

I ask myself these questions, here and now:

• Where do I want to live?
• What will make me happy?
• How can I achieve peace?
• What can I do to make the world better?
• How much time do I have?
• What lyrics should I write to this song?

• What do you want?   A YouTube video that shows a complete performance?

• Do my readers recognize guitarist Pat Metheny and saxophonist Michael Brecker, the two musicians my surgeon played during my open heart surgery on September 21?
• When will I recover from my open heart surgery?
• How do I stay sane in today’s political environment?
• Is somebody trying to sell me something?
• How can people feel safe enough?
• How can I be welcoming to others and also feel welcomed myself?
• Where did I get the inspiration for today’s post?

This person who loves asks that you ask or answer questions in a comment below.

Finally, I ask that you accept my gratitude for all who helped me create this post and for YOU, no matter what you’re asking today.

Day 1474: Safety

Lately,  people around me seem very concerned about safety.

Last night, safety was the main topic in my therapy group.

Here’s how I expressed myself about safety:

Somebody else in the group made a “safety crown.”

How would you express yourself about the topic “safety”?

I think the other photos I took yesterday relate to safety, too.

 

I guess I feel enough safety on this blog to show myself, open-heart surgery scar and all.

I’m late for cardiac rehab,  so safety dictates that I end my post here, with one more photo.