Tag Archives: Life

Word Of The Day: Myrmecophobia — Fear of Ants

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Myrmecophobia: that huge word describes a fear of ants.

I don’t mind if they stay outside and it’s not like I have intense physical reactions like panic attacks. but I do admit to compulsive cleaning and excessive use of toxic chemical sprays to prevent any possibility of an ant infestation.

I read some articles about how to overcome a fear of ants but I don’t really want to do that. Overcoming this phobia isn’t my goal. I like that I’m diligent about NOT allowing an army of ants to occupy my living space.

Updated ant saga: After I initially encountered the scout ants in my bathroom and quickly dispatched them, the next day I walked into the kitchen and was shocked to see a MILLION ants. I’m not exaggerating. Well, maybe I am, but only slightly.

I had been hopeful that the scouts found in the bathroom had been successfully “dealt” with, but I guess a message was still able to reach the collective.

The colony decided to retaliate in a big way and war was imminent. It seems as if they gathered their forces and decided to descend on my kitchen counters and sink during the night. I awoke to large-scale hostility.

I had to take immediate action, and I’m quietly optimistic that this will be the end of the 2026 ant assault. All surfaces have been compulsively scrubbed and bleached and there isn’t a single crumb of food in the sink to attract another interloper.

The part that terrifies me is when I ruminate about how they breached my defenses and found a way to stealthily sneak in the house while I was asleep and vulnerable. Was it revenge for the “scout” episode? Are their tiny ant minds capable of such machination?

But why me?

A couple days have passed and the enemy lines have been drawn. It’s the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morningvand I check to make sure my perimeters haven’t been breached.

However, it appears that these militant ants have honored the agreement to stay outside (at least for now). My fears have slightly subsided but I am on high alert.

Scout’s Honor

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Scout’s honor? Well, not really.

I was never a Girl Scout for several reasons: I hate uniforms, especially ugly brown ones, and I don’t enjoy enforced gatherings and/or making weird crafty things to earn useless badges.

Don’t even get me started on how much I would LOATHE being forced to go door to door or stand in front of a grocery store to hawk cookies. That’s a firm and hard NO from me, at any age.

Yeah, I’m not a joiner of anything; I guess I’m a lone wolf by nature.

So…when I noticed a couple ants here and there in my bathroom, on the wall and in the shower — not a steady stream of them but a few that seemed to be aimlessly wandering around, I was perplexed.

A little research taught me something I had never known–these seemingly random ants are actually SCOUTS.

Scout ants are lone worker ants sent out by a colony to explore unfamiliar terrain, locate food sources, and assess potential nesting sites or threats, however, they chose the wrong location here because there’s no food in my bathroom!

They wander independently away from the nest using keen senses of smell and visual cues. When food is located, they consume a small sample and head straight back to the nest. Before they go, they leave a chemical scent called a pheromone trail on their return trip so other worker ants can follow the path to the food.

As fascinating as that info IS, I don’t want them anywhere near me. I get totally freaked out if I think an ant could possibly crawl on me in any way.

I don’t even care if the spiritual meaning of a scout ant represents a call to explore uncharted territory, to trust our inner instincts, or even to pioneer new paths before bringing others along.

I can admire their industrious nature, but stay away from me.

If you’re wondering what ultimately happened to these scout ants, the short answer is that these good little scouts are no longer able to bring back any info to their colony, which isn’t very animal-ioving of me, but I have my limits.

Let’s raise a glass to honor those brave, selfless little soldiers. RIP.

Photo found on Pinterest

Lady Luck

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Along with fires burning everywhere, the continued decline of democracy and a sense of doom and dread regarding the future, I think we need to manifest some collective LUCK, don’t you?

She came all dressed up to the party last night
With sequins and stars in her hair
And she took off her shoes as she danced right along
The edge of a coin in the air
“My name’s Lady Luck,” she said with a smile
And her words floated out like a song
“And you don’t think you have any choice when I’m summoned
But I’m here to tell you you’re wrong…

Excerpted from Becky Hemsley – Artwork by YuumeiArt

Word Of The Day: Bedridden

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I couldn’t think of anything to write today, so I looked at my recent situation and decided there was no other way to describe it: bedridden or bedbound.

From Pinterest

A bedbound person still retains some limited movement and can actively participate in their care, such as repositioning or feeding themselves. A bedridden person is completely confined to bed with minimal to no mobility, 

Let me reiterate and I’m not being melodramatic at all; shingles/herpes zoster is not something you can ignore.

Most things I don’t take very seriously; an injury, a fall, a brief bout of the flu or a sore throat, but THIS was lifechanging.

The pain is really indescribable, and now I understand why I felt paralyzed when I had it as a child; it’s really that overwhelming. I’d show you the photos I took of every stage of the rash that covered my entire right side, but it’s too gross to share.

For the past two weeks, I’ve literally not been able to walk, to move, to exist — without extreme torment, and that’s not an exaggeration. Waiting too long to inform my doc so that she could prescribe an antiviral was completely stupid of me.

Now that I’m nearing the end of this disease cycle, it’s time to reflect on what it means to be bedridden or bedbound, because for me, not being active is hell on earth.

Not being able to go for walks or work out is torture. I lay there in agony, thinking about how my muscles and joints were actively atrophying from disuse, and that just added to my depression. The garden suffered too, since I couldn’t water anything and we’ve had no rain for months. It looks sad and dismal, kind of how I feel.

The antiviral meds made me extremely fatigued, so I honestly couldn’t move no matter how badly I wanted to force myself.

I was bedridden, or more accurately, sofaridden, because the sofa was slightly more comfortable than my bed.

Spiritually, pain is widely viewed as a catalyst for growth, a profound teacher, or a signal of energetic imbalance. Rather than mere suffering, many traditions frame pain as an invitation to look inward, release resistance to change, and align more deeply with your authentic self.

I’m not too sure about that. What I have learned is to call for medical help sooner, to stop being so stubborn, and to get the shingles vaccine. No way I want to repeat this lesson. I got it. Message received.

“Darling, Be Home Soon”

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I’ve been waiting…..for the great relief of having you to talk to...

Pain is a crazy thing; it has a life of its own, it takes over every minute of every day, and that’s all you can think of — it’s like oceans of pain with no relief.

Anyway, stubborn me finally called the doc to tell her I had shingles. She immediately called in a prescription for an anti-viral. She said I’m a bit outside of the 72 hour window for it to be totally effective, but she hoped it would still work to relieve the intense burning and stabbing pain and shorten the duration of this cycle of hell.

I can’t get comfortable, I can’t lie on my back or my right side and sitting is also excruciating, so I’ve given up attempting to find the least tortuous position. I’m sick of watching TV, too. Sleep is elusive because I can’t get comfortable.

Awake at 3am, these lyrics were swirling around in my delirious brain…“darling, be home soon…”

I couldn’t remember what song it came from, so I opened my computer and searched. I learned that it was originally written and performed by John Sebastian of the Lovin’ Spoonful for the soundtrack of Francis Ford Coppola’s film You’re a Big Boy Now, and another version included in the Mad Dogs and Englishmen tour.

Not only was our magical Leon Russell a brilliant songwriter, composer, pianist, and singer, his arranging skills were off the chart.

Here’s the original of Darling Be Home Soon by the Lovin’ Spoonful and the Leon Russell version with Joe Cocker of the Mad Dogs and Englishmen tour.

Bonus! Master of Space and Time, Leon Russell, on guitar. You beauty!

They lyrics are quite poignant and as beautiful now as they were in the 60s…

Come and talk of all the things we did today
Here and laugh about our funny little ways
While we have a few minutes to breathe
And I know that it’s time you must leave

But darling be home soon
I couldn’t bear to wait an extra minute if you dawdled
My darling be home soon
It’s not just these few hours but I’ve been waiting since I toddled
For the great relief of having you to talk to

And now, a quarter of my life is almost passed
I think I’ve come to see myself at last
And I see that the time spent confused
Was the time that I spent without you
And I feel myself in gloom

So darling be home soon
I couldn’t bear to wait an extra minute if you dawdled
My darling be home soon
It’s not just these few hours but I’ve been waiting since I toddled
For the great relief of having you to talk to

So darling…
My darling be home soon
I couldn’t bear to wait an extra minute if you dawdled
My darling be home soon
It’s not just these few hours but I’ve been waiting since I toddled
For the great relief of having you to talk to

Go and beat your crazy head against the sky
Try and see beyond the houses and your eyes
It’s OK to shoot the moon

Darling be home soon
I couldn’t bear to wait an extra minute if you dawdled
My darling be home soon
It’s not just these few hours but I’ve been waiting since I toddled
For the great relief of having you to talk to

How Do You Fall UP a Flight of Stairs? And Complications…

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What I thought was yet another stupid and avoidable injury has turned out to be more serious –and way more annoying.

I did pull a muscle in my lower back and groin, but there’s a new complication that’s really not fun.

Here’s how it all started and it involves stairs again…

Don’t ask me why, but I was running UP a flight of wooden stairs holding a box of trash in my hands. I was wearing flipflop type slippers which caught on one of the steps, causing me to fall forward in a very awkward and twisty position. I didn’t want to drop the box of trash so my left forearm took the brunt of the fall and it ended up cut, bloody, and bruised. The back pain started a bit later and like I usually do, I ignored it, but this time it got worse.

A few days later, my right thigh became numb to the touch, so along with the pain, this was a whole new weird symptom.

It turned out to be a groin pull accompanied by thigh numbness which might indicate nerve compression or a severe muscle tear in the hip region. It is often caused by irritation of the lateral femoral cutaneous nerve (causing outer thigh numbness)

It’s called Meralgia Paresthetica.This condition involves a pinched nerve where it passes under the groin ligament. Meralgia paresthetica is also known as lateral femoral cutaneous nerve entrapment. Moralgia paristhetica is basically a pinched sensory nerve near your hip crease. Apparently it’s not dangerous but it can be extremely annoying.

But it gets worse…

In the middle of the night, it felt like my left leg was being bitten by some sort of insect or a thousand insects. I jumped up and immediately turned on the light to check the sheets and my PJs for any signs of a bug, but there was none. What I saw was a very very itchy rash and wheals all the way down the inside of my leg. I figured it was a case of spontaneous urticaria (hives) or contact dermatitis, but I hadn’t changed my laundry detergent and the rash was localized to only one leg, so at that point, I was puzzled.

That’s weird, I thought to myself. I took Claritin and when that didn’t work, I took some Benadryl to stop the itching, and that just made me sleepy.

I found some PT exercises to work on the pinched nerve issue (do you know where this is going?) and that did offer some relief.

However, the pain was so overwhelming at night that I gave in and took some children’s ibuprofen and while it did help, ultimately it turned out to be a huge mistake because I really don’t tolerate Nsaids well, not at all.

And now this morning when I woke up, the outside of my leg was itchy and tingly, and when I looked, there was a cluster of the same red rash and wheals.

That’s when it finally dawned on me that this was no ordinary spontaneous urticaria–it looked suspiciously like the beginning of herpes zoster — SHINGLES!!

I also feel generally crappy and tired, not my usual peppy self. The rashes haven’t yet progressed to the gross stage of blistering, but a couple of them look angry enough, so I’m expecting the next phase…

Physical trauma or injury—such as a fall — can trigger shingles. When localized physical trauma stimulates a specific nerve, it can cause the dormant chickenpox virus, resting in nerve roots, to reactivate. This leads to a shingles outbreak directly at the injury site. (From NIH)

OMG.

I never had chicken pox, but when I was ten years old, I had shingles on the back of my left leg. My doctor called me a medical miracle because children don’t normally get this viral disease, but all I remember is being virtually paralyzed and in excruciating pain. I couldn’t walk, I was carried from room to room and even the lightest touch of a sheet was enough to make this little princess scream in agony.

I guess I’ll call my doctor tomorrow and have her prescribe an antiviral along with keeping my hands away from my face so I don’t inadvertently infect my eyes or mouth.

In case you’re wondering, I didn’t ever get the shingles vaccine because I thought I’d never get it again, but I might rethink that decision after this is all over.

Sign me unhappy in SoCal…

Pregnancy, Down Syndrome, and Reproductive Rights

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Although I usually cloak myself in a filmy, gauzy haze of positivity, sometimes the real world slips through a crack or two.

Did you hear about the YouTube influencers who documented every part of their pregnancy, up to and including their decision to end the pregnancy?

Jesse Ridgway and his wife Ashley ended their pregnancy, and in a series of posts on the YouTuber’s Instagram Stories, Jesse said that they’d recently made the “difficult decision” to end Ashley’s pregnancy after receiving a fetal Down syndrome diagnosis.

“This week, my wife and I made the very difficult decision to terminate the pregnancy due to Trisomy 21,” wrote Jesse. “The choice was not made lightly.”

Down syndrome, also known as Trisomy 21, is a genetic disorder caused by the presence of all or part of a third copy of chromosome 21.

It’s usually associated with developmental delays, mild, moderate, or severe intellectual disability, and characteristic physical features.

Since they town-cried their controversial decision, it stirred up a hornet’s nest of the most vicious attacks against them, as well as from those who support them. People are saying he posted publicly so he needs to deal with the hatred. He tried to get attention and make money off of his unborn child. (However, thousands upon thousands of others document their pregnancy too, and for the same reasons.)

“Down Syndrome isn’t a ‘blessing,’ it is objectively s—ty from a health perspective,” Jesse claimed. “I didn’t realize just how rough it is for the child, let alone the family…more often than not, they would be fully dependent on others for the rest of their life.”

After posting about the loss of their unborn child, the couple was flooded with vitriolic comments, with critics calling them “murderous” and “evil”. The Ridgways were sent a “tremendous amount of death threats” from people across various social media platforms who were outraged by their decision. The harassment became so severe that Jesse revealed he put extra security measures in place. In an interview on TMZ Live, he disclosed that the threats were taken so seriously that his wife had to leave their shared home.

From Reddit: I don’t know why people feel the need to give their input on a situation that doesn’t concern them. People need to mind their own business. The commenters are on their high horse acting as if they have such a high moral compass,

Here’s my opinion…

First of all, this is a distraction from the hell that is going on in our country on so many levels, all due to that orange POS.

Secondly...If Jesse and his wife had kept their decision to terminate PRIVATE (or their whole life private), none of this would have happened. I just don’t understand why so many people feel it’s necessary to put their lives on display for impressions, clicks, and income from YouTube and Instagram and all the other social media platforms.

Thirdly… Literally no one LIKES to have an abortion, it’s not like we women throw parties and do gender reveals, but it’s OUR body and our RIGHT to be pregnant or NOT be pregnant and everyone can stay out of my uterus.

Finally...When I was in the teaching program at university, I started out thinking I wanted to major in special education but after doing some student teaching in Special Ed classes and experiencing their special and exhausting 24/7/365 needs, it’s not something I chose to do.

It’s grueling for parents, siblings, teachers, and everyone else. I would not subject a child of mine to merely exist like that. What happens to them when their parents are gone? It’s not a pretty thought.

I don’t think there was as much comprehensive genetic testing back when I was pregnant with my son as there is now, but if my tests revealed a severe genetic abnormality or birth defect, I’d have a lot of thinking to do, mainly about their quality of life–and mine.

Final thought:
Pearl clutchers and virtue signallers and everyone else with their fake martydom can do what they want with their own bodies, but keep their hands, laws, and opinions out of mine. It’s quite literally none of your business. #reproductiverights

Disturbing Dreamland

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After not being able to recall my dreams for a while, this one was so unsettling, I can remember most of the details. I don’t know what part of my brain decided to spew these strange thoughts…

The first image is of me in a hotel room with two cats. One was all black and the other was more fluffy and furry like a Maine Coon. There was a balcony with a sliding glass door which I kept closed and locked. I can’t explain why I was traveling and had made the poor decision to bring the cats with me — NOT something I’d do in real life. The cats were chipped but weren’t wearing collars or ID tags, also something I’d never do. My kitties always had stylish collars.

Maybe it’s the right time to explain that I don’t have any cats at the present time which makes this an even more bizarre dream scenario.

I felt extremely worried about them getting out of the room and getting lost. I have a distinct memory of feeling a lot of anxiety.

I don’t even like hotels because I think they’re inherently unsanitary and the impermanence of temporary lodging where hoards of strangers have been is unsettling. I love my homespace. (There’s really no place like home.)

I’d much rather camp or even sleep in a car than stay in a hotel, even a five-star one.

Funnily enough, even my dreamstate knew that!

After one night, I checked out of the hotel, carrying both of the cats in my arms, along with pulling my suitcase. I don’t know why I didn’t have cat carriers because that would have obviously made it all so much easier, right? I remember being so afraid that I’d drop one of them and they’d run off. The fear was palpable.

The next part of the dream took place at a camp site which I believe was in Yosemite. Someone had kindly set up a red tent along with a litter box. However, I was quite distraught, consumed with keeping the cats safely IN the tent so they wouldn’t run away. The thought of them lost in the woods was intensely disturbing.

In a state of wake/asleep, I thought to myself, who brings cats to places that they aren’t familiar with? The cats wanted to escape, pawing at the the tent stakes, and I was becoming overwhelmed.

I wasn’t having any fun, that’s for sure.

I don’t know what happened after that. There was no resolution to my dilemma because I woke up.

My entire morning was tainted with agitation, apprehension, and dread — not a calm and peaceful way to start the day, so I decided to research what that kind of dream might mean.

Now that I think about it, the fact that I made myself wake up BEFORE the kitties got out of the tent was the best possible outcome, because I couldn’t forgive myself (awake or asleep) if they got lost and I failed to protect them.

Here’s a few thoughts:

Two Cats: In dreams, pairs often represent duality or a decision you are currently weighing. Cats typically symbolize independence, intuition, or personal freedom.

Hotels represent temporary situations, transience, or being “away from home.” It suggests your subconscious is trying to process a situation that feels foreign, unstable, or out of your usual routine.

Feeling Overwhelmed: Too many cats in a contained space points to sensory overload. You may be juggling too many responsibilities or dealing with conflicting demands from others.

Campsite: Dreaming of multiple cats getting lost at a campsite typically reflects underlying anxieties about a loss of control or feelings of vulnerability. Because campsites represent unstructured environments and cats symbolize independence and intuition, this dream points to wandering emotions that are difficult to corral.

Getting Lost: Losing a pet in a dream often mirrors waking-life fears of abandonment, a lack of trust, or a feeling that you have lost control over certain aspects of your ilife.

All I know is that I hope I don’t have that dream again, and because I can’t seem to help myself, this dream made me think about Leon Russell’s song, Out In The Woods, about being lost in actual woods as well as the feeling of being lost in life.

When Leon wanted to learn the Zulu translation for being “lost in the woods”, he was told that there isn’t one because the Zulu don’t get lost in the woods. 

At about the seven-minute mark , Leon explains the story behind the the chorus: “Doda koo panga-ma, doda koo kala, Doda koo panga-oo, kala shatini.”
https://youtu.be/b7IYrFkYyJA?si=gY44_a3kn_11ls2d

Ancestral Acting: Josephine Victor

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When I told my mom I wanted to become a famous actress, she said it was in my blood and shared a story about my grand-aunt, Josephine Victor, who WAS a well known performer, often in productions at the Belasco Theatre on Broadway.

Josephine Victor

Josephine Victor (born Josephina Gunczler/Ginzler; June 28, 1885 – 1963) was a Hungarian-born American stage actress and director active on Broadway from 1905 to 1939.

Her father was a Hungarian vintner. The Ginzler family originated from the Tokay wine region, where viticulture played a central role in local economy and culture during the late 19th century.

Josephine had several siblings, including a half-brother, my grandfather, Rabbi Arthur Ginzler.

Known for her versatile performances in dramatic roles, Victor appeared in many Broadway productions, frequently as part of original casts in plays by prominent playwrights such as John Galsworthy and Elmer Rice.

Her career highlights include leading roles like Zabette de Chauvalons in Martinique (1920), for which she received praise for delivering a powerful and tender performance in the play’s pivotal second-act scene, and Chloe in Galsworthy’s The Skin Game (1920).

Later, she transitioned into directing, helming the Broadway production of Doctor X in 1931, and continued acting in sophisticated dramas such as Judgment Day (1934) as Lydia Kuman and Wise Tomorrow (1937) as Diana Ebury.

She also ventured into vaudeville, debuting at New York City’s Palace Theatre in 1921 in the one-act play Juliet and Romeo by Harry Wagstaff Gribble, where she co-headlined alongside Adele Rowland.

Victor’s personal life intersected with the theater world through her marriage to Francis E. Reid, a theatrical publicist and drama critic.

Victor’s combined directing and playwriting output, though limited in major productions, bridged her acting with creative authorship, fostering narratives that amplified immigrant voices and familial tensions in early 20th-century drama. Her works contributed to the era’s exploration of social undercurrents, paving subtle paths for women in theatre leadership during a male-dominated field

Widowed after Reid’s death in 1933, Victor’s contributions to American theater spanned acting and directing, cementing her legacy as a multifaceted figure in the era’s stage scene.

In her post-retirement years, Victor maintained a low public profile.

It’s interesting to observe that one sibling became a rabbi and another became an actress, as they are very different and also very similar careers, if you stop and think about it. Performing is performing, whether it’s for an audience or a congregation.

She died in 1963, and I’m not sure that my mom ever met her, but wish I had so I could have asked her when she got the acting bug and maybe I could have picked up a few helpful acting tips from her, as I didn’t really win many auditions or perform regularly, so I gave up that dream…

Roundup of Random Annoyances

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On Thursday afternoon, I saw a white van parked DIRECTLY across my driveway, completely blocking it. For a minute, I thought it might be a delivery, but I wasn’t expecting anything.

After noticing it didn’t move and no one came out with a package, I walked outside. Never one to shy away from direct action, I went around to the driver’s side, tapped on the window, and a man opened the door.

I pointed at my driveway and calmly stated, ” You’re completely blocking my driveway.”

He replied, “I’m just on my phone.”

Still calm, I responded, “You can’t block a driveway. MOVE. NOW.”

And he did move but parked directly across the street and kept staring at my house while still on his stupid phone, now with the door open.

Once again, it might not have been the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but sometimes I have ZERO impulse control plus I know the assistant police chief lives a few houses away, if needed. I only regret not getting the license plate number.

Honestly, I don’t know what’s wrong with people, do you? First of all, there are literally dozens of miles of sidewalk unencumbered by driveways, and secondly, how in any entitled universe does HIS phone call justify illegal parking? I am convinced that there are more and more selfish people who think the whole world revolves solely around them, and I’m not sure why or how to navigate these life experiences.

Another random event happened at TJ Maxx as I was standing in line to pay for a couple of cute and sparkly t-shirts for Angel Girl. A woman with a full cart pushed in front of me as if I was invisible. As if I didn’t exist! The hubris!

It took me a couple of seconds to fully realize the situation, like what just happened here, because first, she was behind me and then she wasn’t. I looked around; aghast, as the other customers in line also noticed and I’m sure wondered how I would handle the situation.

This time, I chalked it up to the full moon. I shook my head, turned around, got out of line, put my items back on the shelf, and left the store. It didn’t seem to be the right time to have a confrontation over something trivial and I assumed the universe intervened for a good reason, so I listened.

Finally… my city can’t seem to figure out what to do with an intersection on my street near an elementary school. For many years, there were two stop signs, then they put in a dangerous and ineffective roundabout. Last year they took away the $20,000 waste-of-money roundabout and put in a four-way-stop. I don’t know how much it cost to remove the roundabout and cement in four stop signs, but that’s how they spend our tax dollars around here…

Yesterday, I pulled up to one of the stop signs, preparing to turn left. I noticed two cars that completely ignored another of the four stop signs and turned right, not even bothering to slow down. Since no one was behind me and I was early for a dental appointment, I sat there and watched at least SIX other cars completely ignore that same stop sign. Stop means stop, right? A couple of them even glanced my way as they barrelled around the corner, exceeding the 25 mph speed limit.

What part of STOP don’t they understand? Are they the same people who don’t comprehend that NO means NO?

Photo by Mwabonje on Pexels.com

I decided it might be wise to spend the day at home, in the garden, where it’s slightly more peaceful, although there’s STILL construction noise from next door. I’m trying to tune it all out, but it’s permeating my soul in a not very positive way.

I’m exhorting myself to BREATHE and listen to the birds who’re busy building nests in the mulberry tree.

BREATHE, Princess Rosebud, BREATHE…