We Are All Strangers In A Strange Land But We Don't Often Talk About It

 In my next lifetime, if my karma's not good enough to be a dolphin, I would like to come back as a stand-up comedian. I love making people laugh. I distinctly remember being in 6th grade and having a friend named Martha Kirk who was an easy laugher. I decided that I mostly liked her because she laughed at the things I said that I meant to be funny. I also realized that she laughed at just about everyone who said anything the slightest bit funny. 
You did not have to be hilarious to make Martha laugh but I enjoyed her company, even knowing that I probably was not as hysterical as she made me feel. 

Isn't it amazing that at the advanced age of eleven or twelve, two little girls had already figured out how to make themselves feel more comfortable in social situations- she to laugh frequently, me to try to make people laugh frequently. 

So all of this is just to say that sometimes I say things that are a bit outrageous just to get someone to crack a smile. The thing I was going to say on this post at the very beginning was this:

"The most constructive thing I've done all day is to treat a yeast infection."

Funny? Not funny?

True though. 

I've probably been talking about my nether regions a bit too much the last day or so but we all have nether regions and although men don't get yeast infections, they do get kidney stones. 
So let's get over it, okay? You have no idea how much I censure myself here. I wish I didn't sometimes. Wouldn't it be a refreshing change if we could honestly discuss things that are happening in almost all of our lives because we are human beings with bodies and emotions and who have maladies and we experience changes due to age, and we have memories of when things were different? 
But no. For so many of us, such topics make us uncomfortable or even repelled. How many of us were taught that any discussion of such things was forbidden, only to be spoken of to our doctors or our therapists and often even not to them due to the deep shame that talking about them might cause?
And how many of us have actually had deep and real conversations with others in which we allow ourselves to cross those invisible but clearly laid-out lines and have felt such relief to know that others have some of the same thoughts and problems that we have? Have had similar experiences? Who know of which we speak? 
I have. 
But...we do not want to offend. We do not want to scare away dear friends with thoughts and worries that are perhaps too honest. 
Hell, I don't even want to lose readers because something I say may make them uncomfortable. 

Sometimes though, I go for the laugh. 

And sometimes I just don't care. And even saying that makes me worry that I have offended someone because I am, as we all are, complex and interesting creatures who will probably never stop trying to make ourselves comfortable in social situations. 
I'll say one more thing about this. There is what I consider to be a very dangerous and outdated and ridiculous belief that there are some things we "just don't talk about." And I am as guilty of avoiding those places and spaces as anyone else. 

Which is probably why I want to be a comedian. Those people can say whatever the fuck they want and get away with it and get paid for it and make people laugh and recognize their own experiences in it. 
The jester may have been the most valuable member of a king's court. 

I haven't felt very funny today. Mostly I've felt weighed down by my inability to enjoy the anticipation of a tiny little get-away with my husband to a beautiful place because of my anxiety and endless worry. I have a million worries, from getting out of Lloyd early enough to do some grocery shopping at the Little Pig on St. George to what to pack for our trip. Not clothes, so much, although those too, but should I take some good knives? A cast-iron skillet? Can't forget medications. And supplements. And the emergency hard drugs. And vodka. And the martini shaker. And what spices can I not cook without? Oh Jeez. It's too much for my tiny brain. We're only going for five days (four nights) and we can buy anything on the island and if we can't, there's always Apalachicola. And we can always do without. We could do without food entirely for that amount of time and not die. 

These are the times when I feel the most crazy. When I'm doing something that should be pure pleasure but which, instead, causes me such great anxiety. 

The ugly little stone in my right kidney has made its presence known all day but it is not nearly to the painful point. It is just...there. It twinges, it aches a little. Nothing much. But oh, it feels just way too familiar. I watch. I wait. 

And you know what? By this time tomorrow, I will be on St. George, watching the sky turn colors in the sunset. I will see the Gulf which is connected to all of the seas on this planet just as surely as all of the seas are connected to all of us with our salty blood. The moon is almost full and we will watch that rise above the water and it will be beyond gorgeous. And all will be well. 

My posting may not be on its regular schedule and frankly, I hope it's not. I hope that I can break out of routines and ruts for a few days, at least. 
I was not born to be wild. Obviously. But at least I can try to be a little more spontaneous. 

Mr. Moon just called. He said it's beautiful at the coast right now and that he can't wait for us to be there. I'll be so glad to be there too. 

Love...Ms. Moon