FUNK

I used to have a different definition of the word "funk" than I do today. It used to mean something that smelled bad as in "the bathroom smells like funk". Or, it used to be cool, eclectic art or home decorations or jewelry as in "I know this girl and her apartment has a really cool funk and eclectic vibe". Also, I used to use the word "funk" to describe music as in "bring in da noise bring in da funk." But now, today, funk has taken on a whole new meaning as in "I am in a FUNK." I'm not sure what is wrong. I have some ideas. I have a Grandma I love who is going through life altering changes as she faces a life with Alzheimer's. This new information causes my Mom a lot of sadness and I feel so sad but also so worried about how all these changes will affect my Grandma and my whole family dynamic and relationships. My knee surgery is looming like a gray cloud. I hate the idea of my bone being sawed and screws being placed in my leg and my knee cap being relocated which will set my hips at a different place and change the way I walk and cause amazing amounts of pain. Then, after six to nine months of working through the pain and sweat of rehab, I have to do it all over again on the right knee. Right now, I take care of the girls, I keep their lives going, I keep our schedules and basic needs met, I do the shopping, cooking and basic picking up of the mess that we make in the house. (I don't clean because we have little Luz for that) I do clothes shopping and organizing for the girls and I shave my own legs. There will be most likely 90 days in which I cannot do this. I think about Mike and how hard he works in his job right now and all of these duties will be added to his plate for the month of May. Then in June and July I will have to figure out how to cover these things without his help while still not being able to do these things for myself. It's a lot. And as soon as I think these things I think about other people I love who have cancer and husbands with cancer and husbands at war and who are at war themselves and who are losing jobs and can't feed their kids and I say to myself "shut up already and snap out of this funk you are in you ungrateful ninny" and then my funk gets worse.

So my funk marches on for now and the thought of turning this blog into a whine fest makes me want to puke.

On a lighter note, the CIA is recruiting. My secret dream is to be a CIA agent. I have a whole long story about this that I'll save for later but trust me, I take this dream SERIOUSLY. I could even endure torture unless they wanted to do some sort of dental procedure. If they even brought out the little pick thing they use to clean your teeth I would sing all of our national secrets like a canary. I need to work on this before I apply to be an agent.

That's all for now. Pray for my funk to move on out.