Hey, all:-) We need to get some roar going to power through, so this weekend... We Are Fibro Warriors!

Thsi does *not* mean you go haring off to overdo. No. This means you count your blessings, remember your limits, and make sure you're not burned out before the week even ends or starts, depending whcih way you look at these things.

Remember, smart warriors stay hydrated, rest often, and plan ahead and always have a contingency AKA exit strategy for a situation that might be a bit unpleasant. (All military vets, please just gloss over my terminology use/misuse, thank you!)

***

So I slept! Yay! Need more. Physio doc managed to see me, but wow. I have to see him a lot more than usual for a bit. Totally screwed up my bad hip. I can't do what I could do even *with* fibro, and I re-stressed scarred soft tissues. That's pain you don't wanna know exists. I literally prefer my fibro pain. Fibro never made my leg do things by itself, without me haing any say in the matter. Hello, leg? Leg?! Crap! It's not answering! No voicemail! Argh! ....

***

Hubby is off to spend the day with his sister, far from me. (About 100 miles, in fact.) Aw, isn't that nice? "But she's my sister...."

Yes, and my sister was my sister, but she was still a violent bi*ch by age 7, and worsened as she got older. Got more controlled after age 18, but the intervening years? Are part of why I have PTSD, for pity's sake. So... Color me cynical (I think that's a shade of orange or yellow), but someone being "my sister" isn't just an automatic "let's go spend a day pretending we're a nice happy family while Dad takes her kid off for a tour of his old lab that is really meant to sneak in a medical exam to be sure the leg is healing properly b/c we don't trust her word or the doctors in Minnesota at this point". ... Yes, but we'll go see a movie and grab lunch and walk in a park and talk over the world like all is just spiffy. ?! Sorry, I can't stomach that. Lines crossed, no going back, done. Courtesy, b/c that is owed *my* conscience, and then... like I said, 100 miles is a good distance between me and SIL.

***

Now, I know we're busy, stressed, overwhelmed, and generally pooped out, so on to fun!

***

The word for fascist has the same root as fascia (soft tissues). I have fascist fascia. Bad puns over. The root is Latin "Fasces", which means "bundle/rod". It was used to refer to the symbolic rods of office (a bundle of twigs with which they could whip someone) in ancient Rome, and was adapated for medical use because of the "bundled" nature of fibers in soft tissues.

If you make a Mentos-Coke geyser, use warm soda. More gas remains dissolved in cold water than in warm, and so the carbon dioxide in the soda is "freer" to play if you use warm soda. This is, btw, why cold oceans hold more carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere, and yes, I just tied Mentos-Coke geysers to climate science. You're welcome. Now go have fun making a geyser. (BTW, diet soda works best, but it's purely in terms of clean-up. No sugar, less sticky mess and less bugs.)

The US flag has seven red stripes (courage) and six white striopes (purity). One could argue courage was valued more, but in reality, it's aesthetics. If you flip the white and red, it doesn't look as striking against the sky, plain and simple. Let alone against other surfaces. Odd trivia bits for you from teh Wide Weird World of Leo.

Google honors Mary Pickford, who died in her 80s, a "great" of the silent film era. "America's sweetheart" was, in her off-screen life, a real byotch, apparently, but she was often pictured with a kitten. This of course was probably PR, like her two adopted children (take notes, Joan Crawford!), and hte pics of her with puppies and bunnies. (No joke. They're out there. Creeeeepy.)  She started as a teen, became one of th efirst to have her name over the movie title on the theater marquees, and eventually directed, etc., in a rare move for women of that era. Talkies (movies with sound) killed off her career far less than her age. Having hit her 30s, Pickford couldn't keep playing ingenue teens and twenty-somethings, and she didn' thave the "look" of a vamp that was becoming popular (think Mae West). She retired from acting, helped found United Artists (along with fellow mega-star Charlie Chaplin), and in the 1950s sold her share of UA for 3 million dollars. Which was a big bunch of bucks.

And in another eerie preview of Joan Crawford, Pickford was not a great mom, constantly criticizing her two adopted children. After Douglas Fairbanks finally divorced her, and her career faltered, she turned to booze and became reclusive, tho' her adopted kids didn't loathe her the way Crawford's appeared to in "Mommie Dearest". Pickford's adopted son said merely that she wasn't a woman with maternal love in her. Her third husband was with her from 1937 to her death, but Fairbanks was that "fabled love", at least as it's told. Good story, but reality was, not so much. They'd split by 1933, tho' divorce didn't follow til 1936 and both promptly married other people within months. (Yep, feeling the love!)

Pickford, born a Canadian, petitioned to have her Canadian citizenship restored in her old age, so she could die as a Canadian.

Fairbanks, btw, is known for his last words as well as his silent picture fame. Last words: "I've never felt better!" You can't invent htis stuff.

Where was I? Oh. Random trivia. Umm... Douglas Fairbanks also helped ofund United Artists, as well as the Motion Picture Academy of Arts and Science, AKA the guy swhod o the Oscars.

***

And I'm off to enjoy uncontested control of Netflix:-)

Oh, and laundry. But I'm focusing on the positives. While I can. Hubby's boss is adding to his work schedule (but not his paycheck, of course) and he's gonna be in *such* a lovely (not) mood for the next month or so.

Cute puppy vibes to all!

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