MulyaBulya

I just learned of Whitney Houston’s death at age 48. She was so young. That’s what really hit me. She is the same age as my husband.

I know people who I go to school with who consider 30 old. They can’t fathom still feeling like a young person at my age.

My brother-in-law died of a heart attack at age fifty. Young. That seems a lot younger than it did when I was twenty.

My mom died at age 64. I’ll never forget, my sister was infuriated, because an acquaintance of ours said, “Good thing you aren’t taking it too hard. People get old and die.”

People get old an die in their nineties – not their sixties. And certainly not their fifties, or forties. That’s a tragedy. I hope I live a long time. I hope Mr. M does too. We like to talk about being old together one day.

Rosie volunteered at the nursing home today! She did a great job. She was a bit apprehensive at first, but soon warmed up to everyone.

I was volunteering for two hours, and Rose was only out for about half an hour, so the rest of the time, she was crated in an office. She stayed very quiet, and didn’t whine or bang on her crate. I checked on her a couple of times, and so did some of the staff, as they just loved her. She was friendly and calm with everyone. I’m so proud of her!

Buttercup was glad to see her when we got home, but I think she also probably appreciated some peace and quiet without her sister. I don’t know if I will take her in or not in the future, because she is just more fragile, and doesn’t listen as well. I haven’t made a final decision, though.

Last night I had a bad dream in which I had eaten chocolate kisses, and didn’t get my sticker for the day. It was terribly stressful! Much like those dreams I have in which I am smoking, and realize I really need to quit, although I have never actually smoked before.

I was so relieved when I awoke, and realized I had not broken my sugar strike. I now have two puppy-dog stickers on my homemade chart.

Now, in a couple of weeks, I will run into a problem: My husband and I , as I have mentioned, are LARPers. That means that we dress up in dorky costumes and pretend to be fantasy characters with a bunch of other people dressed up in dorky costumes, pretending to be fantasy characters. Yes, it’s weird. It’s also fun.

Anyway, we do this at a camp site that the people who run the game have rented. The characters we play are pacifists, and don’t get involved in the “battles”. Instead, we host a small area we’ve dubbed “The Relaxation Station” which always has seasonal appropriate snacks and drinks.

In a couple of weeks, we are hosting, in character, a “Masquerade Ball”. A friend is bringing a chocolate fountain, and we are bringing decorations and food – including stuff to dip in the fountain. There are going to be tons of gluten free sweets, and the gluten free part is specifically for me. I mean, I’m preparing it, so it has to be gluten free so that I can touch it, anyway, but… yeah, that also means I can eat it.

I think if I do very, very well until then, that maybe I will allow myself a break for this special occasion, but I do need to be mindful not to overload. I feel like a cheater, though.