riley702

I don't know about torture, but I can't stand something that close to my eye, and if you get it too far down you can pinch yourself and pull out lashes. There's definitely a learning curve, but I bailed after trying one a few times. Can't put on eyeliner for the same reason. Too close to my eye and I start blinking and tearing up and it's just a mess.

Wow, that story gave me goosebumps! I lean toward both happening simultaneously, maybe in some spirit world and reality. Glad you're still here and glad your guardian angel was such a good advocate. Although, maybe it was your own doubts about your worth arguing with the guardian angels? Like maybe your thoughts took form in some way. And the spirits convinced you to live. In my late teens, I was seriously depressed and actively thinking about suicide, but it seemed like every time I'd think of a way to do it, I'd read some story (about some guy blowing half his face off and still surviving, about pills being painful, about someone surviving a suicide attempt completely paralyzed and unable to finish it, etc.) and decide not to try that. And then my Dad's cousin committed suicide after being diagnosed with lung cancer. He blew his head off while his wife was at the grocery store and she came home to find him. I remember my Dad ranting about how completely selfish he was, to subject his wife to that, and how she would always torment herself wondering if she could have helped him, and he could have died comfortably. That stuck with me and the thought of hurting my parents was enough to keep me from doing it until I got some counseling and antidepressants in my early-to-mid 20s. And realized that suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. I quit taking the antidepressants, but probably shouldn't have. When I was diagnosed with aggressive breast cancer in 2010, they diagnosed me with generalized anxiety disorder and put me on Cymbalta, which has been a life-saver, literally. It has made such a huge difference. I did the 23andme DNA test and while browsing thru my raw data, found I have 2 copies of a genetic variant and each copy makes me twice as likely to have depression and anxiety. Makes more sense now. It's a medical issue and no different from taking high blood pressure medicine. And I just remembered a dream from my teens. I dreamed I was flying a lot at the time, and one time, I ended up at our church, but at the "old" church behind the new one, and beside the church cemetery. There were several (2, 3, 4?) beings telling me I could come with them, and I was mightily tempted, but was deterred because they also told me that if I did, I couldn't change my mind and come back.

FWIW, I think you're handling it well. I'm glad my dysfunctional family isn't that bad, though when my uncle died a few years ago without a will, his 2 living siblings tried to clean out everything for themselves. State law says that's not how it works. It's split between siblings, and if a sibling has already died, their share is split between their kids. When he was incoherent in the nursing home, one brother flew up from Florida with a form for his brother to sign over all of his Edward Jones investment funds. My cousin came to visit as he was leaving, and my uncle told her his brother Bill had just been to see him (Bill died 25 years ago). She filed a complaint with the court and he had to surrender what he hadn't already spent. The two siblings cleaned out his house during the visitation and took everything that wasn't nailed down. They got away with that. They're also angry that his funeral expenses were deducted before the funds were split. And they're pissed at the rest of the family for stopping them and won't speak to us now. SMH.

Well of course! We wimminfolk are clingy, don't ya know? <rolleyes>

(((Treehugger)))

I have a weird-ass testimonial for an oldie - remember Miracle Blade III? I used the "cuts everything!" blade yesterday to cut up... an old queen-sized memory foam mattress that was 1. too heavy for me to deal with, 2. friends and family were ignoring hints I needed help, and 3. when I tried to hire someone to haul it off, he flaked on me FOUR separate times. I finally just had enough and decided that sucker was going, and what could I use? It's the long blade that looks like a bread knife with a forked tip in the pic below. It was surprisingly easy to do, but I had to cut it into a half-dozen or more pieces and make endless trips to the dumpster. Seriously, I'm not strong or young and it cut through it very easily. Got it done in a few hours (with rests), vacuumed all the little pieces out of the carpet and celebrated with a long, relaxing soak. Come to think of it, those knives are ancient and I use them all the time. Except for that little square chopper, which was worthless. I replaced it with a ceramic-bladed chef's knife that fits right into its slot in the block. And I replaced the shears (because I would never use them) with an antique carving knife with an 8 inch blade I picked up somewhere.

Wouldn't that be a hoot? Especially if word got out.

Yes, I've mocked it before. My friends know me SO well, they can tell what I'm thinking just by looking in my eyes. She then goes on to say they don't know she has dry eyes. So apparently, they haven't noticed her hitting the eyedrops all day, every day of her entire adult life. I don't like JA because she reminds me of several high-maintenance people I know. It's all about them, all the time.

Wouldn't hurt to just ask what happened. All they can do is say they don't want to talk about it. And they might tell you.

Karma, she's a bitch. Just sayin'.

Let her touch the electric fence. I did and it didn't kill me. In fact, I tricked a niece and nephew into believing the fence was off because I grabbed it and held on long enough for them to touch it, too. Ha!

I guess technically the mineral oil is on the shell, so little if any would transfer to the egg upon cracking. But making cake, or brownies (my weakness), omelettes, etc. to use up eggs gets an enthusiastic thumbs up from me. Eggs and cheese are low in carbs when you're starving, but your sugar is borderline high.

Yes. Non-alcoholic fatty liver disease (NAFLD) is closely linked with metabolic syndrome, where your body becomes resistant to insulin and instead of burning sugars, turns it into fat and stores it in the liver.

I just googled that, because I was thinking that smoking reduces blood flow, but apparently smoking interferes with the normal function of gum tissue cells and affects the attachment of bone and soft tissue to your teeth. Smokers are prone to gum disease and other oral health issues and are twice as likely to lose their teeth than nonsmokers. Huh.

Kids are fearless, and that's often the problem. :)

Tamoxifen caused mine by causing metabolic syndrome, or prediabetes. Care of the cancer survivor: metabolic syndrome following hormone-modifying therapy

Spooky! And they stayed there for a few years?

I think it was, fried in butter. I love peanut butter and bacon on toast. Sounds disgusting, but the fats blend marvelously well.

My older sister stepped on a rusty nail in a little outbuilding my folks hadn't torn down yet. My brother went to go see if he could find it and stepped on it, too. Before Mom could load us all up for the trip to the doctor, I went to look for what I imagined must be a huge puddle of blood and... yep, stepped on it, too. No shoes - it was summer and we were all barefoot. Mom was so embarrassed explaining 3 kids needing tetanus shots, but the doctor just laughed and said it happened more often than one would think.

EEK! Kill it! Kill it!

This is making me hungry for devilled eggs. Incidentally, I don't like mayo or relish and make mine with mustard, white vinegar and balsamic vinegar.

They DO seem to have selective outrage.

Whoa! That's one heck of a side-effect not to mention!

It might be my imagination, but I think skim milk goes bad faster than 2%. I went through a period of time when I drank skim, but finally decided I really liked 2% better and it seemed like the milk was lasting longer after I switched back.

He's probably miffed. Seems cats either shun you or cling after a separation. Sometimes the lovable little psychos go back and forth between the two. "You're back!" "Oh wait, I'm supposed to be mad..." "You're back!"