TikTok’s making me lose my mind

 First of all, this lady trying to advocate for or against something at a school board meeting. I laughed so hard I almost peed in my pants. Had to share that one with a few friends. The comments are gold. “This is my coworker who makes $140K a year” lol yuppp.  

Secondly, the dance trend where a person spends about 40-50 seconds dancing to silence and then letting the TikTok algorithm pick the song. Somehow, this guy got a Christmas song, These two appear to be doing completely different genres at first, but the algorithm still nails it. And This lady just got done so dirty lololol. 

I need the laughs though. I have a serious case of burnout. 

A Few Things

 I really want to someday write my book, The Child Advocate. The Elyse Meyers drama, briefly and accurately described here is turning me off to the idea. Omg poor Elyse Meyers. I “somewhat” knew the “rule” that authors shouldn’t interact with reader reviews. I think that’s why I anticipate controversy before I write my shit. I think of an area of the story that might stir, and I anticipate what the consensus will be and then try to incorporate my acknowledgement of the consensus in my writing. Is that an unspoken no-no, too?  Jesus. 

Besides The Child Advocate, I do have a few more book ideas. In one of them, I base it on my first boyfriend and I running away and never looking back when we were 18, because 18 year olds can do that. We just didn’t know we could at the time. I’ve mentioned it before that we wanted 7 kids. I think I would still incorporate seven kids into the story. In the story, I’d have a boy first, then a girl, then boy/girl twins, then adoption of a sibling group of three. And he wouldn’t die at 46, of course. The possibilities are endless, and so would be the potential conflicts. 

My next book idea stems from the fascination I have with missing people being found alive. This one might not be as realistic. In real life, I always daydreamed about publishing articles and posts that compel missing people to save themselves. It’s complicated. Realistically, once a missing person has been missing for some time, no one really is going to save them except for themselves. By then, of course, they will have been severely abused, brainwashed, traumatized, and have assumed false identities. My main character would be a freelance journalist who publishes pieces in order to convince someone in that situation to remember who they are and come forward. The main character of this hypothetical third book would be commissioned by the FBI to write publications in locations where they have reason to believe some missing people are living. This third book idea might be a little more unrealistic, as I have no idea what it’s like to be a freelance journalist or an FBI agent. My cousin Kathy was an FBI agent. Too bad she’s passed away. She could have been my consultant. Back in 2013, when 3 women were found together in Cleveland, Kathy was very tight lipped about it, only having said, “There are more.”  (Meaning, there must be so many more missing people written off as dead who aren’t.) 

More of my writing career ideas have to do with positive parenting, but I’m even afraid of the backlash from that. Positive parenting is the thing that would have the most effect on humanity several generations and centuries after I’m gone, but it’s not without its critics. 

I tried to get into a television show called The Tudors, about Henry VIII and his string of wives. However- the actor that plays Henry is soooo hot. Wasn’t the real Henry fat and ugly?  He’s always portrayed as such. The actor that plays him is VERY good looking, and I had to turn it off saying to myself, “I can’t have the hots for Henry VIII.”  

Lazy Cashier

 At the store we did inventory at yesterday, I helped Kevin scan some of the items behind the register, so I was able to hear some interactions between the cashier and customers. This was also a truck stop, so most of them were truckers. This place had another register by the main entrance, but this particular register was by the diesel pumps. One trucker asked if they had Altoid mints. She immediately said, “No.” I thought that was weird. All those places have Altoid mints. Then another trucker asked for cool ranch Doritos. She immediately said, “No.”  In my mind, I’m like WHAT.  I looked up from what I was doing and conspicuously strained my head to look over at the frito lay area. I didn’t see any right away, but once I was done helping Kevin, I looked for both Altoid and cool ranch Doritos, and they were both easily findable. 

When I was in my teens and worked at a store, it was an absolute ABOMINATION to tell a customer “no” or “I don’t know”. The rule is, you find out. You look, you ask. This bitch wasn’t even trying. 

A couple hours later, I was counting on the aisles near the cooler doors and a man asked me if the store had the 99 cent cans of Arizona tea in 12 packs. They didn’t have it at that store- I would have noticed it if they did. My daughter loves Arizona tea, so if the 99 cent cans came in 12 packs for a total of even less than 99 cents, I would have always noticed. I gave a much more detailed answer and expended much more emotional labor into my response to this man than the cashier. I had also mentioned that I didn’t actually work for the store, so I overheard him asking that woman at the diesel register. Then I heard him say, “Oh No Sè? No Comprende?”  I rolled my eyes. That lady knew how to speak English, she just didn’t want to be bothered answering questions. That was my irritation of the day. She was not a young person, either, she had gray strands of hair and was around the same age as me. I would expect such behavior from a teenager, even though I was expected to move mountains for people when I was a teen myself. 

Little Visitor

 

Yesterday while doing inventory in Victoria, Texas, a little toddler girl just ran up to me and announced, “Hi, Danielle!”  Except with her just learning to talk, she pronounced my name “Don-Elle”. I was startled. I didn’t know who she was. How on earth did she know my name? She was barefoot and didn’t have adults around. I looked up and around for her parents and immediately saw a man and a woman walking towards her. I smiled and they started talking. I also asked how old she was, and they said 20 month old. (In other words, she’s turning two in four months).  I didn’t tell them she mysteriously knew my name. I mostly believe in reincarnation, and immediately thought to myself, well who are you the reincarnation of?  

Her parents had accents, and I asked where they were from. They said New Zealand. I said, What brings you to Texas?  They said touring the USA in an RV.  I told them she was cute, and to have fun and safe travels. 

Then I got to thinking, being 20 months old makes her born in March of 2024. The last elderly person I worked with as a home caregiver actually died in March of 2024. Coincidence?  Like I said, I only “mostly” believe in reincarnation, but that’s because it can’t be proven. It’s what makes the most sense to me. 

My mother doesn’t believe in it but still insisted it was a “divine visitor”. She has a story she tells often of walking with me in an umbrella stroller along the beach in Tijuana when I was about two years old. An elderly unkempt man walked past us from the opposite direction, reached his hand out to me in the stroller and exclaimed, “Danielitaaaa!” Then walked behind my mom, but when she looked over her shoulder he was gone. My mom said my father was walking about 10-12 feet away closer to the shore and she called out to him, “How did he know her name?”  My dad just shrugged. My mom always thought it was a divine visitor as well. Just wondering if this ever happened to anyone else. 

My kid helped the archaeology club dig a hole. She said they were going to then use the hole for a fire pit to cook food. 

We are on our way home from Victoria, Texas where we did inventory of several truck stop/gift shops. I am exhausted. The motel we checked into last night had a booger on the wall of the bath/shower. Kevin said he didn’t see it, but he took a shower and I took a bath. They also didn’t clean out the fridge from the last guest. I wondered if it was the same person that ordered that food that blew snot in the shower. 

I’m ready for my only day off, tomorrow. 

 

Fun Inventory

 Well, not that much fun. Because, on my payday trip to Walmart I purchased Pilates bands for arm workouts. It came with an exercise guide, and three bands- easy, medium and hard. I gave my daughter the hard one, because she does Pilates regularly. However, only 25 morning reps and 25 evening reps with the easy band threw my back out in one single strip down the left of my back. I do so well with leg, core, and aerobic exercises, but arm workouts kill my back. And even though I’m 47, I still don’t have bingo wings- I could work my arms to a good level if I could just get over the pain afterwards. 

The store chain we’re doing inventory at this week is very fun. I don’t let on to Kevin how much I love this chain, because he calls them “Buccees wannabes”. I mean in a way they are. They sell great gift items. I just received about $220 from the Merchandiser app from the toilet paper and paper towels aisles pictures. I plan on walking out today with some Christmas presents for Anna. They had weighted stuffed animals. She has a couple of weighted stuffed animals, but could probably use one more. She uses my weighted blanket for anxiety, as I personally have a love/hate relationship with it. It does help when you’re trying to fall asleep, but then when you wake up out of a deep sleep to turn over, it almost feels like you’re stuck. 

We are working very long days which makes up for the fact that we didn’t work much last week (which is why I had time to do stuff for the merchandiser app).  I’ve completely fallen off the creativity bandwagon for both writing and sewing. Maybe during thanksgiving I can get back on that. 

I feel extremely accomplished for “getting” a therapist to tell me I have PTSD. Not sure why this feels so satisfying. I do wonder what it would say if my mom was somehow involved in the therapy. If I was a minor or a very young adult, and she was the one paying for the sessions, I’m not sure the therapist would give me a diagnosis that is as respected as PTSD. I do have two cousins with BPD, or “borderline personality disorder” which actually sounds insulting to me. I believe that I was spared from a BPD diagnosis in the past 5-10 years or so, because I made it clear that while being with a man was what I preferred, that I could still be happy with myself single. One of my cousins who got a BPD diagnosis years ago pretty much always made sure she was with a man. Recently, she went to another provider who dropped the BPD diagnosis and diagnosed her on the autism spectrum. She has an autistic grandchild now. So it checks out with the genetics. With my current therapist, I also made it abundantly clear that even though I m happily married, I would still be happy single if I suddenly become single again. I think maybe “always needing a partner” contributes to that. I have another cousin who I know has a diagnosis of bipolar, but whenever she’s manic, she’s extremely productive. She’s an artist and fashion designer as well as working a main job, and she’s created entire lines in her manic phases that have sold very well. I also told my therapist that I read Holy Disruptor and how it helped. 

Feeling Like Theo Huxtable

 Well I had therapy this afternoon, and beforehand, I looked on my billing document. I was surprised to see two diagnoses. The first was GAD, or generalized anxiety disorder. That was a given. The next one was chronic PTSD. I had heard before that I had “complex” PTSD, but when I asked for a clarification, she explained that complex PTSD isn’t an official diagnosis in the DSM 5.  I asked, if it becomes an official diagnosis in the DSM 6, will I get the diagnosis?  She said yes, barring any weird wording that only restricts it to a certain age group or . She then said, she doesn’t know what they’ll do with the DSM 6.  I thought to myself (but didn’t say this out loud) that as long as they don’t rewrite autism to make it look like Trump cured it, I’m good. 

Having PTSD in writing for me feels so validating that I feel like Theo Huxtable When he announced to his parents that he had dyslexia and they burst out cheering. Who would have thought that someone whose parents stayed married could still have their traumatic experiences so validated like that?  

Anyway, time for another work busy spurt. 

This is so scary to me

It’s terrifying to me that a woman in her 40’s can be confirmed alive and well by law enforcement, have her missing person case closed by law enforcement, but still have her immediate family members insist she’s a missing person because she doesn’t want anything to do with them. If it was a male romantic partner she was trying to get away from, the world would have her back. Anyone can claim that anyone else has “mental health issues” as a tool to control them. Mental health issues cannot be physically proven or disproven with any sort of bloodwork or imaging. And if any of us has ever been on any antidepressants, we also “have mental health issues.”  Does that mean we have to be forced contact with toxic family members?  This can happen to any of us. If she’s as crazy as her mom claims, then she will be arrested soon anyway and her mom would have nothing to worry about. What a nightmare for Kimberly. 

 

Book cover

These are AI images I had made to incorporate into my book cover. Please keep in mind that I’m not doing an AI generated book cover. I have a couple of friends that are artists that I can pay to take these suggestions and make some sort of dual image. I think AI makes the main character look Navajo. My hair used to actually be that long. I only braided it when I worked at the child crisis center. While testifying in court as a CASA volunteer, I didn’t. I ended up cutting it all off right after 9/11 due to contracting lice from the kids. The only time I ever testified on a stand like that was in my first case, which was in Arizona. Once I moved to Texas, I just stood off to the side with a microphone while different attorneys asked me questions. Hence the Arizona flag in the back. 

In some of the writings groups I’m in, they’re using AI covers, and it’s painfully obvious. 

 

Kid Home for Weekend

Anna drove herself from San Marcos to my house for the weekend. After greeting us and the cats, she crapped out in her room for a long nap. It’s blurry, but here’s Mitchell wondering who’s in that room with the door closed. 

I got an enormous paycheck today with a lot of overtime. I did something I’ve never been able to do, which is make a $500 payment towards student loans. I also sent Anna money on cash app, shopped, and paid the phone bill. And contributed to my retirement account. Whew!!

 

Book Review: Holy Disruptor

 Yesterday and this morning, I have been traveling around making money per location taking pictures of toilet paper and paper towel aisles for the Merchandiser app. It’s my side hustle. Over the last couple of weeks, pay on the merchandiser app has been abysmal. It recently skyrocketed for this particular assignment, (they must be sorry they tried to pay so low) so I went all over rural areas, enjoying the lovely weather and scenery, and quickly submitted pictures of those aisles. 

While driving, I listened to the audiobook version of Holy Disruptor by Amy Duggar King. If you remember the reality show “19 Kids and Counting”, you might remember Amy. She was the first cousin of the 19 siblings. Her mom was Jim Bob Duggar’s only sibling. 

I have also mentioned here before that I was in a live stream of Amy’s not too long ago and mentioned that I want to write a book called The Child Advocate. She picked my comment out of many and raved about how I should, and how much she loved that title. I then not only felt an obligation to buy her book, but I wanted to. 

Amy and I have a lot of similarities. We are both “an only child who only had one child”. And we both grew up with 19 cousins. It’s ironic. My 19 cousins aren’t all siblings, though. They are the children of my dad’s two brothers and my mom’s six much older sisters. My 20th first cousin (not chronologically) was an adoptee born in the 1950’s that we discovered when a handful of us did ancestry DNA tests. However, I grew up knowing 19. 

So many similarities with the numbers, but I could also relate to the complexities of being an only child in an extended family that large and trying to understand the difficulties of abuse and generational trauma. Like Amy, I struggled to witness my cousins endure horrific things that we all had to sweep under the rug, and I witnessed different individuals among the 19 deal with the abuse in so many different ways. I really appreciated witnessing that enigma in someone else. 

Amy did in her book what I seek to do in mine: She told a story and educated at the same time.  I seek to obey the “show don’t tell” rule of writing more than Amy did, but by the time I really got into the story, the amount of telling versus showing no longer mattered.  I didn’t think it was possible to make Jim Bob Duggar look like more of an ass than he already does, but she did.

I also admire that Amy did this despite some of the negativity she gets online. One of my fears about writing The Child Advocate is that I’ll get some negativity.  It’s actually pretty much bound to happen if you are published, in the public eye, and/or have any sort of following.  She handles this with grace.  It’s addressed in the book, and she simply responds with how Jesus was persecuted too!  I’m not “as” Christian as she is, but I can respond this way if I ever get religious critics.  Non religious critics wouldn’t be phased by this response, so I’d have to think of something else for them.  I would give Holy Disruptor 4.875 stars.  I know that’s terribly specific, but the .125 dock comes from the fact that she could have “shown” and not “told” a teeny bit more.  Of course, she had a ghostwriter, so it may be a moot point.

Before the last couple days of toilet paper aisle picture jobs at rural stores, I have been remembering certain memories in which it seems obvious that my mother was trying to bring me down and even set me up to fail.  More on that later, but she knows that Kevin and I have a four day weekend currently from our main job, the inventory service.  I told her at least twice.  So when I told her that I was out doing the side jobs, I said, “The pay went way down lately, but it increased a lot now so I’m out doing them.”  She then proceeded to ask me if I had gotten a pay decrease at my main job, the inventory service, and then a raise.  I said no…. Why would they do that?  My main job is W-2 and paid hourly.  1099 side hustles are different, and she knows the difference.  She then responded, “Oh I thought you must have really screwed up some inventory so they docked your pay.”  She laughed at herself.  I didn’t find it funny and told her I had to go. Have not called her this morning, but she texted me so I know she’s still around.  There have been so many instances over my 47 years that she’s wanted to see me as a failure for her amusement. Speaking of generational curses, now that I am a mother to a young lady, I just can not imagine feeling that way at all. Ever. 

Blue Rows

The blue rows I did didn’t fit into one picture. Yes one has “blue and green” and one has “blue and purple”.  I guess my yellow row in the “rainbow” below is technically “blue and yellow.”  Perhaps I can switch out the all green and all purple rows in the rainbow with the ones below to make it more scrappy and “fair”. I just have to keep reminding myself that the point of no scrap November was not to get perfect color schemes. 

The purple and blue row pictured here has a heart on the denim back side. When I wash and dry the final product for the fuzzy chenille effect, the heart will be fuzzy as well. I thought I threw away all the hearts I cut thinking it would be a bad idea, but still found one in the heap.

 

No Scrap November Potential Rainbow Quilt

“No Scrap November” isn’t an official thing outside of my house. I’m doing it to use up my scraps and see what I can do. I have another potential rainbow denim chenille quilt, but I’m not sure it’s “good enough”. I have 11 blue rows, so this quilt would be made with one of them right where blue should be. The top picture below is the front of the quilt. The second picture is the back.  The back is denim and will be clipped and washed and dried so it has a fuzzy chenille effect. The main thing that sticks out like a sore thumb is that three of the blocks on the yellow row are actually blue because I didn’t have enough yellow denim. Fabric stores don’t carry yellow denim, and I don’t have time for the thrift store. Most of what you see here is taken from denim items from 25 cent day at the thrift store. What I’m thinking is adding blue blocks to the left and right of each. Idk. This is what I mean by no color scheme or pattern. It’s also why whenever I do open my Etsy shop, rainbow quilts are going to be more expensive. They take more thought, and people comment on them more. We’ll see. It can very well also be a Xmas gift. 

 

Lots of Rows

 Work has slowed down. Thank goodness!  We had a long day yesterday. Kevin and I helped our Austin coworkers in New Braunfels. I texted my daughter that we were in New Braunfels (only a 15 minute drive away from Texas State) and that if she wanted to come by and visit at the convenient stores we were doing inventory at, I’d get her $20-30 worth of snacks. She said she would, but Mondays are her most busy days with classes. I know that, since I saw her schedule. It just would have been nice to see her. 

My psychic prediction is that we will have to help them out there a lot in the near future. They seem to need a lot of help, and Kevin and I make the most sense to send out since we live in Hempstead, which is “on the way” from Houston to Austin. I don’t mind the traveling, in fact I often prefer it. Today and tomorrow are short days and then we likely have a four day weekend. I am going to enjoy that greatly!!! It’s payday, too!

I have been trying to lower my fabric square stash by arranging the squares I have into rows of seven blocks. Each block is about a foot long. I made two more blue rows and actually a pink row!  With pink denim on the back and everything. I remember going to 25 cent day at the fabric store and getting a pair of size 26 pink jeans. They were very long, too. I got a lot of squares out of it. Those went on the back of the pink blocks and pink row. On the front of the pink row is different shades of solid pink and a little bit of pink floral print. I’ll take pics when I feel like I’m done making random rows. 

The idea with making random rows is that I will arrange them into random quilts, and since the quilts “have no color scheme or pattern that makes sense” then they would just be free gifts to people I could ship them to for practice shipping. But I’m starting to think that with what I have, I can actually make a couple more quilts with good enough color schemes/patterns to actually sell. We’ll see!  

Time Change What?

 I did not even realize that the time changed for daylight savings time. I do have a funny story, though. This happened exactly five years ago, when we “fell back” one hour in November of 2020.  

I have to back up and explain that Arizona doesn’t do daylight savings time. During the summer, Arizona is in pacific standard time, and during the winter, it’s in mountain standard time. Where I live in Houston is central standard time. In 2020, my side hustles paid extremely well, because not many people did them. I took the opportunity to travel around and do them, and this included going to Phoenix where my on again/off again boyfriend lived. He and I had gone to high school together and reconnected on social media. I lived in Arizona for nine years. 

It’s pretty standard to take I-10 all the way from Houston to Phoenix and back. Sometimes, if I did most of the jobs all the way there, I’d take I-40 back home and cut through Midland and Odessa, Texas. But this time, I was on I-10. 

The time changes from central to mountain standard when you reach the town of Van Horn, Texas. Then, if it’s the summertime, it will change again to pacific time at the Arizona state line. If it’s winter, it will just stay mountain. When the time “fell back” in November of 2020, I was on the road going either to or from Phoenix. I made the mistake of sleeping at the Arizona/New Mexico State line. I woke up the next morning and didn’t know what time it was. I couldn’t remember if fall was when we went forward or backwards with the time. I didn’t know what time zone I was in, I was confused about the change, and some stores I was going to do audits at opened at different times. Standard opening times were either 6:00 or 7:00 am, but since it was Sunday, some had later times. My phone was even confused, probably because I was on the state line. It quite literally could have been 4:00, 5:00, 6:00, or 7:00 am. There was no point in trying to work, because I figured a lot of employees might also forget the time change and be late. So I just sat at the rest area and watched the sunrise. In that part of the country, the sunrises are breathtaking. 

Restful Weekend of Creativity

 Yesterday was a good day. I gathered all of my 6 and 1/2 inch squares that were either denim or not and worked on arranging them into blocks and rows. I really do have a ton of them, but not enough to make one quilt with a good enough color scheme or pattern that makes sense. Making hodgepodge denim chenille quilts to ship to my closest friends out of town for Christmas will be a good way to learn how shipping these will work and get rid of my scraps so I have a cleaner area to start over with. I do have six quilts ready to list for sale, but I’m not sure if 6 is good enough for an Etsy shop. I had a 7th one that my mom gave me $50 for and donated to the church raffle. So I did sell a quilt, but the customer was my mom. The woman who won it is reported to love it. 

Yesterday, I made several blue rows, two blue and gray rows, a red row, and an orange row. The mountain of squares in my daughter’s room is already less. She’ll love that when she comes home for Thanksgiving. 

Kevin voluntarily gave my car an interior detail. I wasn’t expecting that!  He even went to auto zone and got me new floor mats and seat covers. It looks so nice!  Since his car hasn’t been running well, we’ve been using mine. We just got around Friday to taking his to the shop. 

I’m also glad my thumb feels better enough to have done some sewing. I want to be creative in my free time, but my writing is too heavy for the headspace I’m in at the moment. 

There was another instance of a missing grown adult woman who made contact with law enforcement to confirm she’s safe, but her family members keep posting in missing person groups that she’s mentally ill and needs to come home. To me, that’s just infuriating. Since I have this weird fascination with finding missing persons, I follow a lot of their cases on social media. This comes up often. This woman’s family is acting like law enforcement is these big meanies because they closed the case. Well, I’m sorry but that’s what they do if the person was confirmed to be safe. A lot of people are learning that they can cut off their toxic and abusive family members, and the toxic family members end up doing this crap. It takes away from people who are truly missing and in harm’s way, with the idea being, if someone is looking for your grown child who doesn’t want to speak to you because you’re a piece of shit, they might miss someone who’s actually being trafficked.  I took this screenshot from

Charley Project:

Adults who do not wish to be found by certain people have the right to. Although I believe many may not be aware of this, and the people they’re trying to stay away from might claim mental health reasons why you should be controlled, it’s still true that you can walk into a police station and clear your missing person status and not have contact with whomever you ran away from- even if you were a minor when you did so.

With that being said, I have stayed away from social media due to some disturbing news in the Houston area as well. Sometimes the comments are worse than what happened. I still care about missing people, it’s just that all the cases in which the above happens are a little disappointing. 

Halloween Present and Tidbits

Anna sent me a selfie she took getting ready in her dorm for a Texas State University Halloween party on Friday night. I got this picture right after I published the post below with her past Halloween costumes over the years. 

I’m glad my daughter is there. She’s living her best life. I’m a little worried about her mental health when she graduates in 2029 or 2030 when she realizes that her degree isn’t really going to get her the career she believes it will. Hopefully, she’ll be right and I’ll be wrong, but it’s still a concern that I have not shared with her and don’t plan to share with her for at least another year. 

Secondly, I got an idea that will get rid of my fabric scraps, help me learn to ship things I make for when I open an Etsy shop, and give some Christmas gifts. 

My denim chenille quilt scraps are in squares, blocks, and rows as shown below:

 I don’t have enough of each color scheme to make entire quilts nice enough to sell. So I’ll just make really patchy looking ones, ship them to people very close to me out of town who won’t mind getting free quilts that don’t have a good color scheme, and it may be a Christmas gift. I’m working on this all day today, and my thumb injury feels a lot better.  So, I can!  

This also solves the issue of all the scraps I have taking up space in Anna’s room. I ordered these big mailers for shipping practice.