It just hit me…

A Time of Celebration

You know, the (my) Church congregation started separating when we stopped eating together-whether it was “Red Rooster Restaurant” or wherever. (Naturally) That was before the Pandemic 😷.

For some reason, “breaking bread” together was such a big piece in our group loyalty.
That is true in both Testaments as well. The Disciples, the multi-families, the Courts…
All seemed to revolve around mealtimes. That’s when ideas came to light, were discussed, and decided.


The apple in Genesis. 🍎


It defines our relationships with God and each other.



Celebrations. Consolations. Considerations. Definitions. Judgements. Punishments. Fear. Love. Life.


A necessity for life…

A simple conductor for death.


Heart Healthy for Those You Love

Advertising. Support. Proof. Health. It’s all there. Addiction included. Oh what a tangled web… Now it becomes Control. Disgust. Trepidation.


Food. What? Afraid you might actually like it?


The Pink Lady Gets A Wake Up Call

Order your copy today!

Autoimmune diseases, Education, Future, Hashimotos, Hypothyroidism, Judge & Jury, Life, Life changes, Not worth the headache, Wow

7-13-19: Just the Other Day

I went to an Endocrinologist for an establishment appt. and he tried to convince me that my prior diagnosis’s were all incorrect. I was so angry 😤.

I have years and documents from other doctors and professionals which back up my hypotheses of having Hypothyroidism, Hashimoto’s Disease, Adrenal Fatigue and Autoimmune Disease.

One of my favorite doctors told me “You know, sometimes the rules just don’t apply.” when my bloodwork came back as “normal”.

The only normal I can believe in is my Maytag Dryer setting.

At least I know my body better than that guy seemed to assume he did.

I just feel bad for other folks who get misdiagnosed all the time, hence not getting what they really need. Ya know?

My book The Pink Lady Gets A Wake Up Call addresses this conundrum.

Doesn’t it make you wonder where and why the education of the doctors who are giving the misdiagnosed really come from? Which type of rock do they thrive under?! It makes me wonder.


Gypsy Goddess Fest 2019


Chesaning, MI

My overwhelming question for this past weekend is, was it worth it? And to that I have to say yes. I learned so much about what to bring expect and prepare for. Ya know?



1. Help.

2. Extension cords.

3. Electric plugins (both pronged and usb)

4. WiFi of your own somehow. We relied on my mothers mifi pack.

5. Square credit card processors

6. Something to do. The flow of the customers isn’t always “there” so find a way to be busy. (Crafters were making more of their wares to fill up their inventory.)

7. Water. Keep hydrated.

8. Decor. Keep it classy though. Sometimes too much is just too much.

9. Product cleaner. No one likes a dirty or dusty piece. Keep those doo-dads sparkling!


A. Anything and everything.

B. Weather. We had torrential downpour and then beautiful breezes. Luckily we were indoors but when others get wet, your stuff gets wet. It can also cause humidity and warmth that you just can’t breathe through.

C. Rare and odd pieces for sale. I saw a full coyote face stretched out over a vintage ladies cap from the 1920’s. Very scary.

I bought a drum, necklace, backpack and body spray.

D. The kindness of strangers. There were so many different times that I was able to count on the the honesty and care of strangers. I started to feel sick in a quick downward spiral and the next thing you know, people came out of no where to find me water and give me a bathroom break, manage my booth and give me a smile.

E. Different payment methods. Some by credit. Some by cash. Some by product trade. Some by candy. Regardless it opens up a whole new world of conversation for you.

F. In my case, prepare to learn a lot. Learn about electric engineering. How to dry things off that have been saturated with coffee. Learn about the importance of scissors, fishing line, tape, and zip ties.

G. Certain types of massages are better than others. As long as your body is ready for the Toxin Dump. I had a great spiritual Etheric Massage and it sent me zinging! Oh boy did I zing! And then the toxins she released started to zing. There was a potty break immediately after. And then within three hours, there was a very necessary ride back to the hotel.

H. Being ignored, humored and used for your blinky rings. Neither of these reflect on a book about Hashimoto’s and Hypothyroidism.

I. No matter where you are, after you have explained everything to the nth degree; you risk having them say “ oh, hunh. Thanks.” And walks away. It it a bad idea to fall to your knees and grab onto their knees while begging “ Why?! Don’t you want to buy my ___________?!” Or growl as they walk away. First of all, they may have a friend hanging out in the back ground watching your response who is all too eager to “tell” on you. Bottom line, be resilient. Smile. Think to yourself it’s ok. Their truth might be different than yours and they just need some time to process your truth.

When it’s all said and done make sure that your helpers know how much you appreciate them and all that they did for you.



AFTER THE CLASSROOM by Brande Ellsworth

Teachers never stop 🛑

They start the career.

And retire from a lifestyle ⌛️

They may pack up their classroom. 📦

But books and gifts aren’t all that she’s got. 🕯

She has a hurricane of memories

Held up in her hair

By a pointed pencil. ✏️

Her pockets are full

Of dropped scraps and

Thoughtful delights. 🍬

She’s been independent.

She’s been part of a team.

She’s been tied up with commitment.

She’s been adrift and free.

She’s found comfort and community

She’s found politics and begged for understanding 🎭

She’s been brave

She’s been scared

She’s held back tears when a student shed theirs.

When she leaves the system

She simply can’t believe


She won’t have to wait to pee

She won’t have a last minute meeting

Or have a brand new responsibility.


She’ll be free.

She’ll shop in the same stores

You still won’t recognize her.

Simply because you never did.

She’ll be at your graduation 🎓

In the back as a guest.

When before she was front and center,

One of the very best.


Teachers never stop caring,


and making certain

that her students

move along

safe and strong.

But what she will never

fully realize

is that

her wisdom and her impact

will forever


on. 🎗

Acceptance, Agree to disagree, Air Conditioner, Autoimmune diseases, Awkward, Bare, Brat, Captain Obvious, Cleanliness, Control, Cost, Crap!, Death, Education, Empty, Fate, Future, Growth, Hashimotos, Hat, Husband, Hypothyroidism, Idiosyncrasy, Judge & Jury, Learning, Libra, Life, Life changes, Light, Logic, Long Distance, Love, Magic, Magnifying, Manager, Marriage, Me, Mess, Mom, Moving On, My bad!, Not worth the headache, Nothing, Oops!, Organized, Overheated, Past, Play nice, Present, Quirk, Rationale, Relentless, Respect, Scorpio, Scrutiny, Senses, Shattered, Silence, Soul, Sun, Sweat 💦, Uncategorized, Unconditional, Warmth, Windows, Wow

Flower Beds

I’ve always loved flowers.

As I have rolled myself into “adulthood”,  I have discovered that I prefer flowers in their semi-natural beds.  A lot of people, and I mean A LOT of people, in my town, are Master Gardeners. I figured that growing my own flowers would be a nice hobby.

Plus, I would have a reason to go outside and get my Vitamin D too. Win, win!

I decided to try gardening.  The key word here is try.

I now understand why gardeners threaten trespassers with their lives. The frustration and anger of one little, beautiful and helpless flower being stepped on is a legitimate defense – or at least it should be.

Dear Master Gardeners, I apologize for dancing on your Daffodils and ignoring the placement of your Irises.

Day One:  First we (me, husband, mother). had to weed and Roto-till the spaces for the separate areas for the different beds. Within ten minutes we voted and all chipped in to hire the neighbor kid to do it. He did. Whew!

Day Two:  Cover all exposed areas with black paper…. “hey neighbor!”

Day Three:  My mother came over to help me roll out pre-seeded lavender bed rolls ordered from Groupon. I supposedly had 50,000 seeds so at least one seedling had to work.

Create amazing decor for the flower beds: ummm… skip.

Maintenance: Keep checking on the Groupon guaranteed Rolls. Luckily I could look into my garden from the air conditioned living room to check on it daily.

Water: We still have our timer from Christmas lights, that will work. Or so I thought… Ok not really… my garden was flooded by; oh I’d say five days into this. We now had quicksand.

I could see the neighbor kids’ foot prints in the sand puddling with water. I simply needed to turn off the timer… Done.

It was supposed to be a very rainy week anyway.

Weeds: The weeds grew and grew. They were taller than me and had nothing to do with or about the water or lavender.

I have NOT seen even one plant of my Groupon 💯 guarantee. My neighbor kid is going to be so mad when he comes back from Boot Camp!

All involved read the directions from Groupon carefully…

My mother and I re-read the directions… no lavender.

  • <<<<<<<<<<
    hoped that there would be a “💥🌿🌱💜 Sea Of Lavender 💥 💜 🌿🌱💥 ” in my garden, and it was going to be beautiful. Alas no purple waves, no sea, no see.
      • I waited.
      • I watched.
      • I asked people who had lavender.
      • I traveled to the other side of the state, with my mother to go to a Certified Lavender Farm!
      • I read books 📚.
      • I had it all planned!
      • Would you believe that there isn’t anything resembling lavender in their area???
      • There’s nothing!
      • What did I do wrong??

      Well… it wasn’t until I realized that I physically couldn’t do much more than trap my neighbor kid, tell him how sick I am, get him to do the hard stuff, and then flood everything while he was in boot camp; that maybe I was a bit overzealous about my new hobby.

      I couldn’t muster up the energy to be a gardener. I am just too sensitive to temperatures, brightness, bug bites, bending over and everything it takes to grow flowers purposefully.

      I had one job. One ☝️. Discover and create a beautiful garden. I failed. My husband knew how upsetting it was for me. He took me to the cute little store in Bay City and I found a bunch of fake flowers (lavender of course) to purchase and enjoy at home.

      Sometimes mental health is brushed aside when a physical task fails. I mean, who goes through the fuss and anticipation of a project wanting to be a failure? It’s a tough pill to swallow. His actions, my mom’s help and of course the neighbor kid were here working their butts off because my symptoms made me miserable while the heat only exasperated them. They did all of that in my best interest. So Thank You!

      I guess my body health (brain included) needs some more time to hopefully heal. When it will let me know; remains to be seen.


      Friday August 25, 2017

      I kid you not…

      It was a nice afternoon and I was hungry.  The lunch time commercials had just run their course and I wanted to whip something up right away.   I remembered an infomercial or maybe a cooking show that had some fancy bacon recipes and ways to “style” bacon.  I was feeling extra brave, like I had pancake flippers for hands.  Watch out world I’m making a BLT (kinda). 

      Aside from not having any bread or lettuce,  I could use other substitutes.  We did happen to have five cherry tomatoes and fresh bacon though.  I was set to make a Creative Chef Decision I will use what we have and work it out as I go.  

      I used: plain bagels

      • sliced turkey
      • fresh extra-thick Bacon
      • mayonnaise
      • sliced cherry tomatoes 

           to make a sandwich (?.?)  Right?  Who needs lettuce and bread?  Ha!

      I knew that the bacon should be cooked in a circle, I had seen bacon wrapped shrimp and bacon wrapped filet mignon.  I just need something to wrap the bacon around and toothpick it.  Hmmmm.

      Okay, I can totally do this.  My husband recommended the muffin tin; but, I had just deemed myself a Goddess of all things cooking.  I wanted to surprise him with a tastey lunch!  This was so exciting!
      (Dude I am so creative, I should have my own infomercial, show or commercial!!!!!)

      Anyway, I got the bagels in the toaster, sliced the tiny tomatoes, pulled out the deli meats and found three toothpicks for the bacon.  And that’s when it hit me!  

      I will use my muffin tin upside down on a cookie sheet -on the burner.  Round bacon conundrum SOLVED!

      The smell of the bagels burning in the toaster got my attention.  My darling husband offered to help at this point… he could smell the bagels too.  The bacon was doing it’s sizzle, pop, sizzle, smell good thing.  I had wrapped the upside down muffin tin with the bacon and tooth-picked the strip ends together.  It’s almost time for them to be done.  

      He came into the kitchen to check out what I was doing.  I told him that it was all under control.  I was wrong, so very wrong.

      I turned away from the bacon contraption to put mayo and turkey on the bagels.  I figured that the bacon was pretty much done, because of the smell… this is where I realized that this lunch was not going to be all that I had hoped.   

      The bacon was sticking to the muffin tin cups and they were burning.  The smoke was filling the room.  I started coughing and my eyes were tearing up horribly.  I took the pan outside and dropped it, actually it was more like, I threw it.


      Slight exaggeration of my muffin tin.

      I couldn’t breathe or see; and I’m not exaggerating about this part.  Everything was now being turned off and stopped.  I needed to be outside for fresh air. I looked over to the cookie sheet and muffin tin slowly melting into each other.  I was mad at them -traitors.  Teflon was dripping and melting between the two pans and I had been/was inhaling it.  

      We made do with what we had left over -five sliced cherry tomatoes, and kept the house open all night.  It needed to be aired out.  I was still coughing and my eyes were watering once in awhile.  My husband experienced the same symptoms as I had.  We were quite a sight, I’m certain.

      Here’s what I don’t understand, 

      I can’t cook.  I have some friends whose families swear by their generations of recipes and home cooking.  I had a super dinner the other night, it was all garden fresh and I just couldn’t get enough –at a friends’ house.

      Back to the Teflon melting within my cook ware.  I didn’t freak out too much until I woke up the next day.  I remembered someone, somewhere had mentioned something about Teflon being a bad thing.  Time for some research…

      “…The Environmental Working Group (EWG), a nonprofit advocacy group, advises that consumers avoid even the newer generation of nonstick cookware and kitchen utensils, favoring stainless-steel and cast-iron pots and pans…”  (Teflon)

      “No matter what you use, ventilate your kitchen while cooking to minimize inhaling fumes (no fumes are good fumes).”  “…And keep in mind that nonstick cookware is just one source of fluorinated chemicals…”. (Science of Teflon)

      I had two pans which were non-stick, teflon treated and they had some sad looking bacon stuck to them.  The pans had gotten so hot on the stove top that they were cooking themselves into themselves.  Plus the smoke from the bagels and bacon were all inhaled by yours truly.  Did you know that,

      Cooking with Chemicals

      Over the decades, it’s been reported that the fumes that result from heating these pots and pans to very high temperatures (over 660°F) could cause temporary coughing, fever, and a sore throat—what’s been referred to as “Teflon flu” (or medically as polymer fume fever). The fumes have also been responsible for killing many pet birds, which have very sensitive respiratory tracts. Though temperatures can reach up to 500°F or so under normal cooking conditions, the problem occurs mostly when a pan, especially one without any food in it, is left unattended on the stove, since that can greatly increase the temperature.  

      Cooking with Chemicals

      The moral of this story is that I am not built for creative cooking.  Creative Writing, that’s great.  I can handle that.  I suppose I can make anything heat-and-serve.  But when a recipe or full meal which takes hours to prepare yet 15 minutes to eat, I get angry.  Yep.  Angry.  For me, cooking is difficult and chances are that I really didn’t want to be responsible for your intestines or health for the next 24 hours.  

      If I show up to an event where the invitees are supposed to bring a dish to pass, I’m the one with a container of cookies or a bag of chips and dip -realize that I put a lot of heart and soul into that choice.

      However, I am also good for cereal, fresh fruit, Yoplait Yogurt, coffee, tea and a toasted English muffin with cinnamon sugar.  
      For the time being, the Creative Chef is busy debating on replacing her kitchen wares.

      26 letters, Acceptance, Agree to disagree, Angels, Attitude, Autoimmune diseases, Awkward, Bai, Bare, Beach Glass, Bills, bills, bills, Black, Books, Brat, Calculating, Candy, Captain Obvious, Car, Cheetos, Cleanliness, Click, Coke, College, Come to Jesus, Control, Cost, Crap!, Cry, Cups, Darwinist, Dean Koontz, Death, Diets, Education, Empty, Fate, Food, Football 🏈, Fur-ever, Future, Galileo, Gas Card, Gene Wilder, George Carlin, Glass, Glimmer, Hashimotos, Hat, Hot! Hot! Hot!, Husband, Hypothyroidism, I miss him, Idiosyncrasy, Judge & Jury, Kitten, Learning, Libra, Life, Life changes, Light, Lion, Literary Devices, Logic, Long Distance, Love, Magic, Magnifying, Manager, Marriage, Me, Medicinal Metaphor, Mess, Minimal, MiniMart, Mirrors, Mocha, Mom, Moon, Morel mushrooms, Moving On, Mutt, My bad!, Nap, NASCAR 🏎, Naturalist, Noise Canceling Headphones, Not worth the headache, Nothing, Oops!, Organized, Overheated, Paid, Paranoid?, Parents, Past, Pepsi, Perfect Pair of Jeans, Pets, Pinkdom, Play nice, Playlist, Present, Purses, Quirk, Rationale, Relentless, Respect, Robin Williams, Room 406, Rose, SALE /not sale, Scorpio, Scott Stabille, Scrutiny, Senses, Shattered, Silence, Sisters, Skeleton, Skull, Snapple, Sneaky, Snow, Socks, Soul, Sun, Sunflower seeds, Sunrises, Sunsets, Superstition, Sweat 💦, Teaching, Tears 😭, Telepathy, Tradition!, Trees, Two Sides, Type A, Type B, Unconditional, Veterinarian, Warmth, White, Windows, Wow, Writing

      Planning, Hoping & Fumes

      I think that I have a friend or two who genuinely care about me and my illnesses.  I believe that I have some acquaintances who would be certain to talk to me if we were in the same place, coincidently.

      Thanks to Pastor Trisha Peach, blog peacht, via Hypothyroid Mom, I caught a few of her comments to be very true for me, currently.

      Like this… “It makes planning nearly impossible. Many humans take for granted that they will wake up feeling “normal”, go to work, go see friends, go to their child’s sports game – same as always. 🌅👩🏻‍🏫👩🏼‍⚕️👨🏼‍💻👩🏻‍🏫👩‍🎤👮🏻👯‍♂️

      For someone battling a chronic illness, you just don’t know. Instead of “planning”, it’s more like “hoping”. You “hope” you wake up feeling ok, you “hope” you can make it through work, you “hope” you can make it through your child’s play…..and each event takes its toll on your energy and health.

      You cannot predict the day before how you will feel. So the world makes plans and prepares for events and you…..”hope” to be a part of them.”

      She goes on to write,  “It is not because you no longer care or because the event is not important to you or the person is not important to you. You are missing out because your body has given out.

      In fact, your body may be 4 or 5 events PAST too many by the time you just give out. It’s like driving a car that is running out of gas….you lasted on fumes, but finally despite all your efforts, the fumes have run out. The gas pedal is all the way to the floor, but she’s not going any further.”

      My doctor had requested some blood work from me…, which, upon return, explained a plethora of my health problems. She was speaking another language (Greek? Latin? Dr. Speak?), regardless I needed Google. And here I am. 🌎.

      Meghan O’Rourke has an essay called “I had Autoimmune Disease and then it had me.”   It was printed in The New Yorker Magazine, Aug. 26, 2013.  It came up in a Google Search for Hypothyroidism.  She was speaking my language.

      So, for my friends, I hope to keep our plans but I need to be full; not on fumes.

      💩. I don’t even like me when I’m on fumes.  👺

      Education, Hashimotos, Hypothyroidism, Teaching

      Hashimoto’s, Hypothyroidism and Autoimmune Deficiency = Me!  A High School Teacher.

      I get to navigate through a whole new experience.  I tread lightly because I really don’t know where this is going to take me.  

       I’ve always cheered for the home team or underdog.  It’s just part of my nature.  I found my calling in the field of Education  just after my sophomore year in high school.  I delved and dug.  I asked Veteran Teachers.  I asked Academic Advisers.  Everything just seemed to fall into place and point me in the direction of teaching high school English.  

      Folks already in the field told me that their profession was anything but easy.  They warned of late nights grading and weekends spent in the school building making copies and writing lesson plans.  God forbid the evenings of writing sub plans with Kleenex in one hand and a pen in the other.  It really is easier to suffer through work with the flu than writing Sub-Plans- no lie.  Public schools are full of sniffles, coughs and germs looking for new hosts.  

      All mentors conceded to “…tenure status being the saving grace in the stress of high school teaching”.  That was in 1994. 

       I graduated college with a double major in Extended-English and Secondary Education.  Somehow my first “real” job was in 1998, teaching Kindergarten… talk about runny noses and sticky hands.  This lasted for five years.  Note, this assignment was not high school nor English specific.  However it was a nice introduction to the field and I am forever grateful.  Those kids taught me a lot!

      By 2003, I was ready for the student loans to pay off -so to speak.  It’s now 2016, half way through the academic calendar and I am still fulfilling my calling.  Shakespeare, Poe, Prepositions, Diagraming Sentences, College Application Essays, Harper Lee… sigh, thump of my heart, breathe.  Yet,  I fear that it may be time to stop.  Gasp!  Nooooooooooo!

      Things are changing.  I am changing.  I struggle with being “myself”.  Simple add on to teaching duties are becoming chores and more difficult this year.  Is it age?  Is it menopause?  

      You see, three years ago I sought the advice of my local practitioner regarding the following symptoms:  fatigue, headaches, depression, anxiety, temperature hypersensitivity, lack of desire for anyone/thing.  I had a nasty run-in with hives on my upper torso and random food allergies.  She ordered the tests and my blood was drawn.

      My blood work came back to say “Help Needed!”  I was forwarded to a Endocrinologist, Psychiatrist, and Gynecologist.  But I was busy teaching, broadcasting sports events, working with students on the school yearbook and trying to be a decent daughter, wife, community member and tutor.  Something would have to give.

      On the day before Winter Break 2014, I had my first, full-scale, anxiety attack.  I was a mess.  My principal found me climbing into my desk and sobbing.  He needed to hand me a copy of my disciplinary letter.  You know.  The kind they put into a personnel folder because you screwed up.  

      I’ve NEVER, EVER gotten a reprimand before!  This was nuts.  I was losing “it” and hating myself more than usual.  My husband knew it and my students were catching “wind” of it through the daily interactions.  I had to do something.  My world was falling apart.  Why?! 

      Angry and cruel internal dialogue put me in a very dark place.  You know, the kind of place.  I made appointments and started my journey into understanding my body.

      Hashimotos disease with hypothyroidism seemed to be the one diagnosis that everyone in the medical field could agree on.  Having Autoimmune Deficiency allowed Hashimotos to hold hands with Hypothyroidism and all sorts of vitamin deficiencies.  The psychiatrist did away with my current medications and started a whole new regimen.  The Gynecologist offered ablation to help with the hormonal fluctuations and pain in being a female.  Keep in mind, this started in January of 2015.  I had to manage it all while staying committed to my teaching duties.  I did!  I was.  At least I thought I was.  I’m not.  I wasn’t.

      Instead, I am forgetful, exhausted, moody, overwhelmed, panicky, awful and lonely.  I’m afraid that I’m losing “it” and won’t be able to get “it” back.  My name is the same, but my demeanor is a whole different story.  Every blog, magazine article, medical journal, and website says the same thing… 

      This is going to hurt and it is NOT going away.

      Teaching, in and of itself, is difficult.  The stressors with the ever changing habits of teens, scoring/grading, mounting pressures from administrators, curricula, professional development, directives and testing are enough to have a perfectly healthy individual experience stress eating as well as sleep deprivation.  Imagine what it does to a person with Hashimotos Disease, Hypothyroidism plus Autoimmune Deficiency syndrome. 

      It is painful -both emotionally and physically.  Frustration and humiliation are running amok.

      I am at a loss.  I am too distraught to be sad.  I am too tired to fight.  I have lost touch with friends and hobbies.  My weight or physical size has grown in the wrong direction.  My patience is at an all time low.  

      I look forward to sleep (the good, deep, relaxing kind) and quiet time.  I have changed my daily diet only to change it back.  My hair is falling out and my skin is dry like paper. I order a special vitamin for that.  I even forget words or ideas within moments of mentally drumming them up. 

      I get seizures now. Those are surreal. I seldom remember them unless reminded by another person (i.e. my husband who held me through it). They scare us both.  I have a pill for those now.  My medications are tweaked every three weeks to three months.  Better living through chemistry, right?  

       Fun stuff! 


       (Yes, Sheldon, that was sarcasm.) 

      Reality isn’t really fun right now…

      I’m worried that my disease has become a  real disability.  It’s affecting my home, work and social life.  I have qualified for FMLA due to my increasing sick days.  The Amercian Disabilities Act has a section just for Thyroid issues.  There are work place accommodations listed that (before 2014) I would have never needed.   It’s a good start, but my system needs so much more attention, understanding and help.  A “scheduled potty break” in the afternoon just isn’t going to cut it for me.

      Obviously Hashimotos doesn’t seem to bode well with High School -right now.  

      Flare-ups, seizures, high anxiety levels, pressure, stress, fatigue, mystery body aches and mood swings are not conducive to the classroom environment.  I struggle with all of these things DAILY.   I feel like my body is at war within itself.  OH!  Wait!  IT IS !  

      So, do I redial my calling or what?  Hashimotos and High School… (sigh).