Let's Just Call it Wasabi

I find it very interesting, (that's the word I'm choosing to use) that life has been so easy for me since about 2002 that I'd forgotten what it used to be like at times. Because it wasn't always like that (understatement) and I realize that I've been lulled into a false sense of security and well-being as a result of just how easy things had become in the last six years.

Now six years out of 47 is really nothing for anyone else to hate me for so give me a break especially since the relative calm was long overdue.

But, I have to say, lately it's as if the universe has decided that I needed a bit of reminding that maybe everything doesn't always go exactly the way I would like. What do you mean you didn't hire me? Are you a complete moron? Oh ya, people don't always get hired after just one interview at one place. Go figure? I'd forgotten that.

So in addition to it taking longer than I expected to get work, in addition to having a really bad haircut, in addition to not being able to get over this never ending cold in spite of Echinecea, Cat's Claw, Oreganum and sticking my head over a vat of boiling apple cider vinegar every morning, in addition to getting up in the morning, looking in the mirror and thinking, Did I have a stroke during the night? Is it possible that I have Down's Syndrome and I just slipped under the diagnostic radar for most of my life?

If that's not enough, let's just throw in some hot flashes to spice things up. This is a new experience for me and I've decided that instead of calling what I'm now going through the proper term - Menopause - I'm going to refer to it as Wasabi. Are you having a hot flash? No. No. I'm just having a wee bit of Wasabi. You know what I mean? It's the double-sided pain and pleasure that's a lot like when you ingest too big a clump of Wasabi. It's a love hate experience. I love wasabi. I love to hate how it feels going right up my nose into my sinuses. I love the shock of it because I must be a masochist at heart. I love to love the taste of the wasabi mixing with the soy sauce and the sushi. Yum.

And, while we're getting used to Wasabi let's add in a few other condiments. How about some Sake? It seems that I get to drink that every morning at 4 am. I'm not sure what other reason I have to be awake then,but I am, so I'm going to call it the Sake hour. Because it's time to get out of the sack, just because, perhaps I'm anticipating Sake, even though I've never tasted a drop of Sake in my entire life.

Then, a few hours later, at 6:00 am, it's time to get back in the sack because that's when it feels like I've had way too much Sake and i'm tired. If I actually had a job, there is no way I could possibly get up, get dressed, fix the monster hair and look like a normal human being with a functioning brain at 9 am. When I put it like that, I've just realized that I've now become my biggest liability. I'm like that teenage kid that can't function because they were up all night. But, I don't have a mom to get me out of bed.

The only saving grace that I can come up with at this point is that it could be worse. I could have teenagers in addition to all this. I could have a gorgeous, high maintenance teenaged daughter who was driving me nuts with her make-up and her brand name jeans and her skinniness and her high school dramas and her PMS and the never ending phone calls from me to her and her hating me and me hating her.

I could have a husband going through a mid-life crisis. Geez. He'd be taking his life in his hands. That actually brings a smile to my face just thinking about that. I'll give you something to have a crisis over sweetheart! Just stick around! It's the Wasabi talking.

When I put it like that, maybe things aren't so bad afterall. I just have to put up with my big whopping Wasabi self. I'll try not to beat myself with chopsticks or use them against anyone. Help me out here. Try not to give me even the teensiest little reason!