Fight The Anx. in Your Face

Just trying to distract myself from those anxious flutters that are so insistent in my bowels…

M told me last night that he’s struggling with his own anxieties and wonders if he might be having some form of a mid life crisis. That makes me sad. I know he has anxiety, and I know what he’s anxious about, and it’s actually not that outrageous. As in, he has valid reasons to feel anxious. I am booking in to see my GP in a few weeks, and I am going to ask him again if he might like an appointment, but this time to see about the anxiety. I’m sure he will say no, but I feel like it’s important to make the offer, in case he’s feeling embarrassed to ask.

Oh my goodness. I feel like I am about to explode and all that will be left of me will be my head, my feet and a puddle of steaming diarrhea.

Wow. Sweat beading on my forehead and upper lip. This is a bad one.

Ernie’s stairs arrived - I think they’ll be as good as we can hope for with him. The product is fine, and will suit the purpose, but I’m not sure he’ll use it to get down off the bed, which is my main concern. I’ll keep coaching him, but he’s definitely spooked once he reaches that point of no return and has to run himself down the steps under his own weight. If they were a little deeper, he’d probably do better, but that’s completely impractical. Anyway.

Wanna see some random pictures?

Presidential Pez

Currently listening to: Mariah Carey - Hero.

Here’s a photograph of the article of my sister in the newspaper the other day - the website for the paper wouldn’t let me copy and save the picture.

This is an old picture of my dear eldest brother’s kids. They’re all weird looking. The little guy on the right hand side is the one that I just bought the light up shoe laces for. The girl in the middle has been crying, her and her mother are very similar and fight like cats and dogs. The toddler on the end is a sweetheart. This picture is from a while back, after they received some letters I sent them.

Here’s the “sweetheart” saying hi to her father when he came to collect her from grandma’s house.

Smash burgers and fried pickles.

Ernie sulks.

Dear, sweet, eldest bro.

This is my adorable Nana (the one with the FB) on her wedding day to my Pop. Look how ugly my pop is! Holy cow. Note: Yes, he is definitely missing two fingers. Nana used to tell us that she cut them off because he kept picking his nose with them, but the reality is that he was a long haul truck driver and he was in an accident in which his truck rolled and the door popped open, then shut on his hand. Obviously he suffered other injuries, but he only lost the fingers, thankfully.

This is 70’s Nan and Pop, with my dad’s twin sister.

This is Chris Farley, who I think Pop looked quite a bit like in the above picture.

This is 80’s/90’s Nan and Pop.

Sometimes we build Ernie forts to snooze in.

During The Great Clean Up Of 2016.

Fact.

Sleepy goofball.

Now, I know some of you might have thought I was a bit mean when I said that my nephew is going through a kinda ugly phase. Allow me to elaborate using the medium of photography.

Not too bad, you say? BOOM.

Poor little cherub. Here’s hoping he makes a swift recovery back to his normal, handsome self.

And one last one to leave you with…

Still feel like I need to frantically poop, but I’m at least able to contain myself for the moment. Peace Out.