Hi Darling Ones,

One of the best things about being 6’5″ is the ability to reach almost all of the things.

I’ve been more than six-feet tall for 41 years, and I have go-go-gadget rams. My wingspan is impressive and so I’ve reached all the high shelves for most of of my life.

Every Thanksgiving I would spend many minutes at the grocery store getting stuffing stuff down for old ladies and short women. This happened for years.

Occasionally, at Target, a shorter-than-me man would ask me to get him something from a tall shelf.

In fact, the only thing I couldn’t reach was the tops of my kitchen walls. My kitchen has been semi-painted since 2007. I’ve never been a fan of standing on things and using my hands to do stuff — painting, turning on the smoke eater machine at the bowling alley, changing lightbulbs. Since I’m so tall this was rarely a problem. Standing on stuff to reach things were for shrimpy people.

Being so tall meant I had a lot practical storage. I was a big fan of using the highest shelves of the cabinets and even the top of the cabinets themselves.

Then the stupid stroke robbed me of my balance. Now that I conduct most of my life seated, the tippy top shelf in the cabinets has become my nemesis.

My inability to easily reach things infuriates me, even more than the hard-to-open & close cheese packaging.

I’ve had more one meltdown over opening cheese. I’ve raged at my mom and my sisters for putting something on top of the metal rack in my kitchen.

God, fucking damnit, I’d think to myself.Don’t they know how hard it is to reach that now?

Of course they don’t. Because for most of their lives too I’ve reached all things.

Even seated I’m taller than a lot of people. When I got my mammogram a few weeks ago (cancer free, fyi) I was taller sitting in the wheelchair than the technician.

This inability to reach things is infuriating because, technically, I can still reach the high shelves. However, doing so is terrifying. Getting a pasta bowl down shouldn’t feel like an adrenaline-fueled, death-defying act, but it does.

Getting the bowl down now requires a short pep-talk, a reminder that I’m probably not going to plummet to my death no matter what my body feels.

The dissonance between what my brain knows (not plummeting) and the signals my body sends (I’m falling) is the most frustrating stroke effect. It’s the part that’s the hardest to explain, and the part I’m convinced if I explain correctly the doctors will be able to fix. So far I have not found the words.

Anyway, I made spaghetti last night. I got the pasta bowl down and I did not die. I didn’t even stumble, but my body still panicked. I tried the protein+ Barilla pasta and it wasn’t too shabby at all. But the real winner of the evening was the three-day rise focaccia I made. It was divine.

How are you, Darling Ones?

Love,
Jodi

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Oh, Darling Ones,

Today is my 53rd birthday and boy is it being a god-damned day.

My 26-year-old washing machine decided to give up on life, and so my gift from the universe is a busted washer full of dirty water and clothes. Happy birthday, Dear Jodi!

Everything I touched today has turned to shit — I spilled a 40oz glass of ice water on my lap, a bathroom cleaner I ordered leaked all over the toothpaste in the same order, and this here website took a dive and I got spend a lot of time chatting with tech support. Happy birthday, Dear Jodi!

As a gift to myself I’ve decided not to freak out even though a new washer is not in my budget. Nothing is in my budget. Social Security has not let me on the dole yet and I’ve only made $50 thus year according to FreshBooks. So, I guess in the immortal words of Wilma Flintstone & Betty Rubble, I will CHARGE IT!

It’s only money.

I don’t make a big deal out of my birthday anymore, but I still love it.

I’ve heard from all my favorite people. I got to tell them I love them or show them by remembering anniversaries and discussing rock & roll. I had a delicious BBQ dinner with my fam and after my nephew & mom dealt with the washer mess. I have lots of yarn, cute cats, Bob’s Burgers on the TV, and a good book (Run for the Hills by Kevin Wilson) waiting for me at bedtime.

Not too shabby for old Jodi. Plus, I’m here. I did not succumb to all that ails me like the dumb washing machine.

Hope 6/6 was good to you too.

Jodi

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Hey Darling Ones,

It’s surprisingly hard to feel good about yourself when you’re not able to make enough money to support yourself. Not impossible, just difficult. I blame capitalism and the patriarchy. To be fair, those two along with racism are to blame for most problems.

Since I’ve made $0.00 so far this year I’m struggling with what exactly the point of me is, which is sad in more ways than one. Was the point of me pre-stroke to make websites for people and pay the mortgage? How gross.

Now that I’m disabled and unable to work enough to support myself I need to figure out what I want from my time left on Earth. Before the stroke I was too busy working, surviving, and feeling bad about living up to my potential.

One thing I have managed to figure out is that I don’t want to spend any more of my life feeling bad about myself. So, I’ve found new things to feel good about.

These things usually fall under the umbrella of “spinstering.” These are activities that I’ve decided are extra spinstery (reading*, crocheting, talking to my cats, etc.)

On days when I spinster hard I feel extra good about myself. Like maybe the point of me is to do stuff that makes me happy?

Today I spinstered my ass off.

• Made no-knead bread dough for tomorrow’s Easter Dinner.

Prepared most of the mise en place for aforementioned dinner.

• Repotted ALL of the Sadness Garden while
• listening to Careless People by Sarah Wynn-Williams.
• Ate a healthy salad for dinner.

It doesn’t sound like much, but between unpotting, repotting, and clean up, the Sadness Garden was a multi-hour endeavor.

Now I’m plum tuckered out and pretty satisfied even though I didn’t earn a dime.

Pointlessly yours,
Jodi

P.S. I cleared up SO much space on the Sadness Garden cart that I can get more plants. Feel free to send me some cute ones!

 

*I exclusively listen to audiobooks now because the distorted vision makes reading a book with my eyes too difficult.

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Hola Darling Ones,

How are you? It been ages since I’ve written. My silence is funk related. Current events + personal economic insecurity makes Jodi a dull girl.

There’s about three half-written posts in the hopper, but I haven’t mustered up the gumption to finish them. I will though, because I’ve been spending every afternoon for the past two weeks arguing with Jason Isbell in my head and the world needs to know about it. Plus, maybe if I get it out of my head maybe I’ll stop.

But that’s not why I’m here today. Today I’m gonna tell you about two things I’ve started doing again. These were things I did all the time pre-stroke and it it’s taken me two years to get back into the habit.

1. Listening to music on my headphones
I mentioned how Sister #4 gave me some bitchen Sony cans. What I didn’t mention was that I stopped listening to music on headphones for a long time.

Whatever the stroke did my brain it interfered with my ability to enjoy music being pumped right into my skull. Part of that was due to people stopping by unannounced right after my stroke and scaring the shit out me because I couldn’t hear the garage door over the music. Part of it was just because — maybe it was too much?

Regardless, now whenever I fire up Euryale (that’s my laptop) to work or write I pop on the cans and it is familiar delight. It doesn’t take away the wooshiness in my head or the tremor in the Floppy Scoop, but it does make me feel like my old self.

2. Tending to the Sadness Garden
In its heyday the Sadness Garden contained dozens of plants and took up space in three of of Supergenius HQ’s rooms.

Along with my money and balance, the stroke took a lot of my plants. RIP Peggy, Stan, Joanie, Heather, Heather, Veronica, Ann, Nancy, and Janine. Plus a bunch I can’t remember the names of.

In the early days I didn’t have the capacity to give them the care they required. While my mom and sisters tried, they were more concerned with keeping me alive.

This week I spent some time getting my garden in order. I cut back Cub, the monstera; started what may turn out to be an avocado tree orchard; and gave one last shot at keeping Eleanor IV alive. I don’t have high hopes for her.

I’ve vowed to cool my jets when it comes to plants and keep it contained to the one cart and the two giants (Trevor, the lemon tree and Cub). This means I’m now accepting a Pilea Peperomioides and a Tradescantia Nanouk. Feel free to send them.

In good news, my retina doctor has lengthened the time between the invasive eye treatments. I only have to go every 12 weeks now, which is nice because for awhile I was going every 4 weeks. The bad news is my vision will never be undistorted again. He said that last time too, but I always ask doctors a few times in case they were mistaken the first two times I asked.

Keeping the status quo,
Jodi

The post It’s All Coming Back to Me Now appeared first on I Will Dare.

Hi Darling Ones,

One more day. We can do it! Here’s three things I wanted to mention before the year ended.

A Crowded House

As is tradition, I hosted Rock & Roll Bookclub Dirty Santa on the 28th and it was most excellent. My college-era friend Ray came from Madison and at one point he, Sister #2, and Wolfdogg were chatting in the dining room. Ben & Max were preparing dinner in the kitchen, Hannah & Jaycie were on the couch chatting with Cade, my mom, and Sister #4, and I turned to Heather, who was sitting next to me and said, “This makes me so happy.”

There’s nothing quite like having your house crowded with people you love making a joyous racket. My eyes well with happy tears and my arms are goose bumped at the memory. I’m so fortunate to have so many wonderful people and I told every single one of them I loved them that night. Lucky me.

For The Love of God, Make Your Own Website

I’ve been on the record for a long time about how I wish blogs would come back. I miss the early aughts when blogging was all the rage and everyone wrote one and was messy all over the internet. It was so fun!

This piece by Gita Jackson gets at why we need our own damn websites:
We were already long overdue for a return to websites we control, rather than feeds manipulated by tech oligarchs

It reminds me of the Matt Haughey quote from 2016. “Blogging gave a billion people their own typewriter but turns out 15yrs later everyone prefers writing at 3 typewriter factories instead.”

Kind Neighbors & 2020 Jodi

On December 22nd I was awakened from slumber by voice saying, “hello, hello.” Since I was half asleep I wasn’t sure what was going on.

“Hello.” A woman’s voice said from downstairs. “Hello?”
“Are you in my house?” I asked from my bed upstairs.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m your neighbor. Your front door is open. I’m just going to shut it.”
“Thank you SO MUCH,” I said from under the covers.
“It’s locked,” she said. “I’m just going to unlock it and then shut it.”

I got dressed quicker than I ever have since my stroke in March 2023 and hustled downstairs where it was a frigid 48º in my living room. All cats, presents, and laptops were accounted for. Holy shit!

When I went to bed the night before my furnace kept kicking in. I checked the thermostat app on my phone and it said it was 54º in the living room. Since it was about 108º upstairs I thought my Nest thermostat had gone wiggy. Climbing the stairs is a harrowing journey and I wasn’t about to do it to deal with a wonky thermostat at midnight. So I went to bed planning to deal with it the morning.

I never imagined my FRONT DOOR WAS OPEN ALL NIGHT. IN DECEMBER. IN MINNESOTA.

Holy shit!

The deadbolt on my front door had been sticking so I was only using the bottom twisty lock until Ben could look at it.

So that’s why I had to spend $200+ on a fancy new lock I can lock/unlock with my phone. This was on top of the $1000 I spent on a new dishwasher & microwave the first week of December. Oh, and there was a surprise leaky toilet that cost $300 on December 27th.

Y’all I’m real broke. Please think positive thoughts I can get on the dole because I also need a $1600 water softener and to, you know, eat, afford meds, mortgage, and those kinds of good things in life. Ayiyiyiyi.

However, I do owe a boatload of appreciation to 2020 Jodi who socked away all the COVID money back in 2020, saving for a rainy day. Thanks to her I’ve survived thus far without going into debt. YAY, us!

Here’s to a 2025 with more to appreciate and 0 trips to the ER.

Jodi

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