Lately: the twerking, shopping cart, pregnant cat, cold snap saga

I had an appointment and some errands in town Thursday afternoon. It seems like every time I go shopping by myself, I end up pushing the same squeaky cart with a malnourished cart wheel. By the time I realize my mistake, I have already decided to ignore it and get through my list quickly. Halfway through my list, I regret it. Thump, thump, squeak, rattle, clatter bang with every step.

Pushing my cart outside on the pavement sounds like thunder rolling and cymbals banging at full strength. It can’t be my imagination that everyone is staring at me. I smile, duck my head, and clatter forward to my car. No amount of lifting up on the handle or slowing down makes me any less of a spectacle, so I’ll just roll with it. Literally. 🙂

I didn’t get back until after five, and when I walked in the door at home, I smelled food cooking, and my hardworking man was at the kitchen helm. The table was set, complete with goblets, and the food was wholesome and delicious. I seriously love a cooking break, and my man is a keeper.

Who wants to cook after shopping? I have a low blood sugar issue, and planning ahead is crucial if I want to avoid sugar lows at all the wrong times. With cleaner eating, it’s especially tricky to keep my protein intake up to avoid sugar lows. Even with three meals a day, I still have to eat every two hours or so.

My husband and I discovered a new adjective to describe me during dysfunctional sugar lows: hangry (angry because of hunger) 🙂 Seems appropriate. Anyone who experiences it understands. Shakiness, dizziness, irritability, roller coaster emotions, from laughing to crying to anger. Food changes everything though.

Since getting back on a schedule, my hubby’s metabolism has gone crazy too. He says he needs protein on tap. Ha. We’ll see what we can do about that.

I rarely listen to the radio unless I’m on long trips, but the past few days I’ve been rediscovering my appreciation for country music when I’m driving. I might not look like a die hard country fan, but I love some good country. Especially when it comes to romance and down to earth fun and family. Country songs also make me think of my sweet boy from Tennessee, and I like thinking about him!

On a slightly different vein, I am a little obsessed about Taylor Swift’s new song, “Shake it off.” Yes, she’s switched to a pop sound, but I’m not stuck in either world, so I can appreciate her unique style. I thought the music video was pretty great up until the twerking part.

Let me take a moment to stand on my online podium to inform you just how non classy twerking is. For real. (As I’m writing this, the word “twerk” is underlined in red as a misspell. That should say something about its level of class.) 😀

When I see cute girls flapping there posterior flab in a camera’s face, I’m like, “Get out, I don’t wanna see that side of you ever again.”

I am not a religious freak who is all anti “Shake what your mama gave you,” but hardcore twerking in 2014 is more like, “Roll your mama’s grave over.” Now everyone knows how you would look in the bedroom. Gross. I personally didn’t want to know.

I think our grandparents are probably thankful they did all their stupid stuff before the internet. If they did twerk in public, at least their boss wouldn’t see it on youtube the next day!

There is a sense of mystery that should accompany public displays of red blooded sexuality, even in the 21st century. Hard core twerking reminds me of a wild monkey licking its own backside. It’s a turn on for some I’m sure, but I personally do not understand why it’s required to have flapping butt cheeks in everyone’s face for a hit music video. I understand it in a strip club, but not on every cool new music video.

Any religious opinions aside, I think each person is entitled to self respect, and twerking screams, “Use me,” and I don’t know what girl truly wants that to play out, unless they are simply settling for what they believe culture has rated “desirable to men.”  Women are gifts. I hate to see girls settle for trophy status.

I still like Taylor’s song though. It speaks to me and puts a spring in my step when I think about overcoming negativity.

‘Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play
And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate
Baby, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake
I shake it off, I shake it off
Heart-breakers gonna break, break, break, break, break
And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake
Baby, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake
I shake it off, I shake it off

Just think while you’ve been getting down and out about the liars and the dirty, dirty cheats of the world,
You could’ve been getting down to this sick beat. 😉

Can I just take a moment of silence to say that on October 17, it is cold in South Carolina. I am wearing long pants, long sleeves + a sweater in my house. I’m sure if I wasn’t sitting still writing, I would be warmer, but still. My husband said it was in the 40s when he got up before me this morning.

I feel like such a spoiled southerner when I go north for Christmas. 40 degree weather legitimately feels cold to me, but I get smacked in the face with real cold every time I go north. It’s weird how a body adapts to different climates.

While I am on a dramatic note, I have a sneaking fear that “my” adopted wild cat is pregnant. Again. She already has three kittens who will be full grown soon, but more? I hope not, but when we got back from vacation, she was awfully fat, and I know it wasn’t because I was feeding her.

I’m like the neighborhood stray whisperer. Four cats with mama and offspring, plus the ugly black male who slinks in the shadows, then there the big furry house cat with a collar that appears out of nowhere occasionally. (Whenever that one comes around, mama cat sits with her ears back, yowling and hissing in painful tones.) Also, every once in a while, I see a big gray fur ball at the edge of the property when I take out a slop bucket.

Of course my husband warned me, but I couldn’t help myself when I first showed compassion to the pregnant mama. One act of compassion is all it takes to create faithful followers who meow pitifully at my doorstep whenever I go outside. They just love me for what I can offer them I’m sure, but at least they love me at all.  Reminds me a little of humans, sadly. 🙂

Happy Friday, all.

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