Hit 5,000 steps today and drop your achievement here — we’re cheering you on!
What a strange prompt! In the fitness industry now, are we, WP? Or is it violence against steps and staircases?
Either way, I don’t want to answer this. I’m gonna give it my ole “ridicule response.”
And remember, get those steps in by any means necessary!
What’s a book, movie, or TV show that you wish you could experience again for the first time?
I read the books years ago (and they are not yet finished being written by Diana Gabaldon), and waited not very patiently for it to be picked up as a TV show or a movie. When it finally was picked up by STARZ, and became a series in 2013, I was very excited. I have watched every season and the final season just aired, with the last episode being in May. It feels like it’s been a year and a half since the last episode, but it’s only been a little over a month? This last season was trash, in my opinion. They “jumped the shark,” as the old saying goes. It’s like the interns wrote the last season. Out of order. And with no prior knowledge of any of the books or previous seasons. But I digress.
The funny thing about reading is if you wait long enough and you reread a book, it’s almost like reading it again for the first time. It’s different with TV shows. I think the visual memory is wired differently in the brain, and although you can rewatch something and not remember everything, visually you do start to have memories and there’s that part of your brain that tells you “Ahh, yes, this is why I love this show.” At least, that’s what I have found to be the case. Not that I don’t occasionally start over at season one of Outlander, because I do. But it’s just not the same as the first time I watched it. The novelty is gone, but the affection remains.
Emperor Palpatine has announced open elections for a new Emperor — and he’s nominated Darth Vader. You get to nominate one challenger.
I said what I said. Yes, I know he was Han Solo, and that I have crossed out of the Star Wars Universe into the Indiana Jones Universe, but 👏I 👏said 👏what👏 I 👏said👏
As a challenger to the creepy heavy breather, who looks like walking chicken skin with a hairdryer mouth, my candidate can do the following:
Math:
He has critical thinking skills:
He can outrun big boulders, unlike the nominee, who probably can’t outrun a piece of gravel, let’s be honest…
I shouldn’t have to convince you – you either think he’s cool or you’re wrong. And if you like Darth Vader for this job, I can’t help you. There is no universe in which Darth Vader is a better ruler than Indiana Jones. None!
Finally, I would like to wish a very happy early birthday to my birthday twin, Mr. Harrison Ford!
May the force be with you all, but only if you vote for Indiana Jones!
What’s something you used to believe as a kid that seems ridiculous now?
It didn’t start with questioning the guy with the white beard . It was the tooth lady. Something wasn’t making sense. The math wasn’t mathing. At the age of six I started to have questions – which is also when my baby teeth started to fall out. I can’t remember why I started to question things, but it didn’t really make sense that there would be money under my pillow from a tiny being that would then take my teeth. What are you doing with my teeth, ma’am?!
So it just clicked one day. I received confirmation from the parental unit about my suspicions. But then my brain immediately rapid fired into questions about the bunny and the man with the beard. I asked for confirmation that these individuals were also not of the reality realm. I received confirmation. 😑
In that moment, as a six-year-old, I had cracked the code. I might as well have had a full-time job working 80 hours a week carrying a briefcase and a 30 year mortgage because I had it all figured out. The world had lost its shine.
But it really hadn’t. Because the teeth would weirdly keep getting stolen and now the cash payment could just happen in the open. Like a drug deal maybe. (But where are my teeth???) And the bunny would still bring candy, but the bunny had a different name, a human one. And the guy with the beard still had plenty of jobs at the malls, but after the disclosure, the presents would arrive a day earlier, via a different method of transportation. So that worked out well.
Long after the disclosure of the bearded guy, there was a man from a place I used to work who would dress up as the bearded guy every holiday season and ride through my neighborhood on a fire truck. Parents would give the bearded guy gifts in advance and he would come to every door and give the little children their gifts. He would drive by our house every year and we would wave from the door. Since we knew this bearded guy, it was quite exciting. He stopped doing it and we missed that. And in fact, I hadn’t worked at this place since college so I hadn’t seen the bearded guy, who was at the time a young guy with dark hair and a dark beard, but dressing up as the guy with the white beard.
Yesterday, I was in my backyard, and my neighbor told me her godfather was helping her with her shed. I looked at this helper, and I saw a man with striking white hair and a beard and the way he walked was quite familiar. So I asked my neighbor if her godfather was the guy with the beard from the fire truck and she said yes. It’s been years, but his transformation is complete: he is now the white bearded man from the firetruck! We chatted for a long while, and it was good to see him again. I should have mentioned to him his old gig as the white bearded guy on the fire truck, but I didn’t. I forgot. I really think he’s missing out on an opportunity now, though. He wouldn’t even have to really dress up. Just that red suit thing and the belt.
Happy Saturday/Caturday! 🎅🏻
It’s been a very warm week. We’ve broken records and hit 9000°F. I’m sorry, it only feels like 9000° but it’s been 88°. Everything is blooming and it shouldn’t be. Not quite yet. We’re dropping down into the 30s again next week so I will likely be covering everything that’s starting to bloom that shouldn’t be. Sigh.
Speaking of blooming, the azaleas are in full bloom, and the squirrel teenagers are in full zoom. And I mean zoomies. The squirrels have been splooting – the term for what they do when they lie on their bellies to try to cool off – and they have been doing this:
Sploot happens:
I brought out the ground level birdbaths and the hose, so now we have three functioning birdbaths/refreshing water sources. Yesterday, the mourning doves couldn’t figure out how to all get into the same birdbath at the same time, which is not surprising because mourning doves share one brain cell. They are beautiful birds, and they are very fast in flight, but they are afraid of me on foot, but not afraid of cars. They often walk to their destination, even though they have wings. And when they look at you, it gives you a feeling of the most beautiful creature with not much going on behind the scenes, if you know what I mean. Anyway, while the doves were trying to figure out how to all fit into the birdbath, a sparrow showed up. Sparrows are not shy, and it came in for a landing. The MoDo’s were not impressed. This was their reaction:
👁️👁️ 👁️👁️ 👁️👁️ 👁️👁️
It was really awkward. I, of course, recorded the whole thing and could not contain my laughter.
These are two couples (not seen: Daryl, who made an early exit after being pecked by Dave.) Doves mate for life, so tensions were already brewing between the two couples and the fact that they couldn’t figure out how to all fit into the birdbath without ruffling feathers. I mean that figuratively and literally. One of the doves got too close to the other dove and got pecked. This caused an indignant, awkward hop out of the birdbath as one couple *had* to leave. And then the sparrow showed up. It was utter chaos.
It’s Saturday morning as I’m writing this, and don’t for a second think that the birds and the squirrels don’t know that I’m already awake in here. I’ve been sleeping with the windows open, which is necessary because I don’t have air-conditioning at the moment and it has been very hot. I would also like to point out the trees are pollinating and all of the yellow stuff you see on your car is now in my nose and eyes when I wake in the morning. But the birds and the squirrels don’t care about any of that. They just know that I’m awake and that I should be refilling the fuel sources and the watering holes, and they will come knocking if I’m late.
Happy Saturday, everyone!
p.s. still obsessed with the Bleeding Heart
©️2026, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved
You’re writing your autobiography. What’s your opening sentence?
That’s it. That’s how it starts. From there? I don’t know. That’s not part of the prompt. Have a great day, everyone!
In mid- December of last year I finally got to the neurosurgeon’s office after months of trying to make the appointment. I kept having to reschedule due to scheduling conflicts. I wanted to see the surgeon about potential interventions for my unbearable neck pain of many years. I had tried physical therapy to no avail, and had two injections of steroids into C6. Everything seemed to make the pain worse, so my last resort was visiting the neurosurgeon. The pain is debilitating at times, with the nighttime being the worst. My other nearly debilitating symptoms include vertigo and dizziness, and a general feeling of being off-balance. It is exhausting to keep myself upright all day. And it is very painful in my neck region at night, so I’m not sleeping very well. Needless to say, I wanted answers and help. 
I had nothing to fear as I waited for the doctor to enter the room and review my cervical spine MRI imaging from June 2025. I had no reason to think anything would go awry because I had read the report and it didn’t seem very much changed from my previous cervical spine MRI done in 2020. For some reason, an MRI can look almost normal and a person can have severe symptoms, or conversely, the MRI can look like a train wreck and the person can feel fine. I would prefer the second option, but that’s not how I roll. 
So when the doctor entered the room, and after the pleasantries and introductions were made, he told me he didn’t see much wrong with my cervical spine. Sure, small herniations, and a little bit of a bulging here and there, but nothing warranting surgical intervention. “But, there is something I want to show you. Something else.”
I could feel the frown forming on my face, and the slight anxiety building in my chest. The doctor asked me to pull my chair over to look at the image on the screen, which was of course my cervical spine and the bottom portion of my skull and brain. “See this? This is your cerebellum. The cerebellar tonsils are hanging down through the opening at the base of your skull and into C1. You have a size ten skull and a size twelve brain.”
“I beg your finest pardon?” I asked in a statement. I was stunned and nearly speechless, but I think he just said I had a big brain, so there’s that.
“You were born with this congenital condition that is known as Type I Chiari Malformation. I believe all of your symptoms are caused from this malformation. Your brain is constricted and requires decompression. Your symptoms of dizziness, migraines, gait imbalance, limb numbness, and various others are caused by this compression. Cerebral spinal fluid can also be cut off leading to problems for the brain. The fix for this is a craniotomy to remove a piece of the skull as well as a laminectomy for C1 so that the brain hanging down has more space. After we remove those pieces, we put a band that we take from your hip and place it on each side of the skull so that the brain rests on that.”
I really don’t remember thinking anything other than How did we get down this road? How are all of my symptoms being caused by my brain sagging with droopy drawers out of the base of my skull into my spinal canal? How is the treatment for this a craniotomy and a laminectomy? Why is my brain too big for my skull? Who even has this?! Not very many people, I can tell you that. In fact, I know of one other person who has this, and that person didn’t know anyone who had it either.
Switching tracks for a moment, I was scheduled for a brain MRI to look for an acoustic neuroma which my ENT suspected, since I suddenly lost a lot of hearing in my left ear a few years ago. But now I needed the brain MRI to confirm the Chiari Malformation. And then I got thinking: why did no one mention this on my cervical MRI report from 2020? This was when I first developed symptoms. And why did no one mention this on the cervical MRI report from June 2025? The neurosurgeon said it’s very common for them not to mention it. And, in fact, when I did finally get the brain MRI at the end of December, the malformation was yet again not reported. And because they neglected to perform sagittal views on that study, the doctor couldn’t confirm the diagnosis. I then had to get another MRI of my brain which did confirm my diagnosis.
I recently returned to discuss options and the game plan. I’ve had several months to research success stories and not so successful stories as a result of decompression surgery. I’ve also been instructed by a trusted source to get a second opinion. When I returned to the surgeon’s office, he said the surgery is not an emergency. I could schedule it in five years or I don’t ever have to do it. My CSF is not being blocked off, so my brain is receiving the nutrients that it needs. I don’t have something called a syrinx, which is a cyst that forms in the spinal canal as a result of this malformation. Seven millimeters of my cerebellum is hanging down and makes itself known, however. Migraines, dizziness, vertigo, pain up the back of my head and down my shoulders, a constant feeling of being pulled and off-balance when I walk, extreme fatigue at the end of the night, vertigo when I tilt my head back, and the inability to lie on my back because my brain is essentially right under my skin and feels compressed in certain positions – these are all symptoms I deal with on a daily basis. And for now, I will continue dealing with them. I like my skull pieces where they are, and I do not want to remove the first vertebrae of my spinal cord. I have no restrictions other than if it hurts don’t do it. Well, I’m not allowed to ride roller coasters but that’s not a problem for me because I don’t like them anyway. But doing nothing carries its own set of consequences: I will still have these symptoms and I will need to manage them the best I can, but it is incredibly fatiguing. I’m going to seek a second opinion at a university hospital in a large city. Perhaps there are other options for me to get my brain decompressed and relieve my symptoms. I don’t want to continue to live on the struggle bus, but I don’t feel comfortable removing a large section of my skull and my first vertebrae. It’s my personal belief that because I’ve had this since I was forming in utero, my body has adapted to this condition. It’s not perfect, and in fact, it’s really rather terrible at times, but what happens when you start removing pieces of your body? What happens when you remove the stability the body has always known? I’m not fully convinced that in the case of an elective surgery, this is the best route at this time. My skull may be too small for my brain, but it’s still my skull. It protects my brain. And the first vertebrae of my spinal cord is important. Every vertebrae underneath of it is important. They all rely on the first one for stability. I have concerns.
The first few days of receiving this diagnosis had me in a state of shock. I’m still not sure which parent to blame for my big brain and tiny skull. So I looked at the sky and I squinted my accusatory eyes at both of them. Also, within the first few days of this diagnosis, I nicknamed the malformation Kyrie. I made up a little song based on that 80s song by Mr. Mister – Kyrie eleison. I pulled these lyrics from the song.
Kyrie eleison down the road that I must travel
Kyrie eleison through the darkness of the night
Kyrie eleison where I’m going, will you follow?
Kyrie eleison on a highway in the night
And this is how I altered them:
Kyrie lays on the top of my spine
Kyrie lays on C1
Kyrie lays on and will always fall down
Kyrie lays on my neck all through the night
As for me and Kyrie, we will be getting a second opinion in the coming months. And in the meantime, I will try to educate people about this rare condition. It’s been a long journey to get answers for my migraines and all of these other weird symptoms. Let me know in the comments if you or anyone you know has a Chiari Malformation.
(Sorry guys, I tried to embed the video for Kyrie eleison by Mr. Mister, but WordPress is not allowing it. Kyrie original lyrics ©️ Mr. Mister)
©️2026, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved
I met a lion once
Male lions are majestic, but still just big cats
He wasn’t my lion, you can’t keep a lion
(You also can’t keep a lyin’, but I digress)
I knew him as much as you can know a lion
Lions are wild animals
You should never let your guard down
But one time I forgot
The lion scratched me
It was an accident
You know, like when your house cat accidentally scratches you when you play?
That, but a lion’s claws are so much bigger
In time it would heal,
But the scar would remain
No one can see it
But I should’ve known better
Than to pet a lion’s mane
©️2025, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved
Thank you for the gift
Of two more blooms
Off-season
Much too soon
But also too late
Much too late
From dead bark
Arises life
One last time 
ERJ, my eastern redbud that I’ve written about multiple times on my blog, has been slowly dying all summer and now into the fall. Strangely, he had the most beautiful blooms this year he’s ever had. This past spring, I mean. He’s got borers. They did their damage. I tried everything, but I couldn’t save him. I knew I wouldn’t be able to, but I tried anyway. The loss of this tree really hurts. Some parts of his branches are still pliable, but most are brittle. The bark now splitting from lack of life. But I noticed today a bright spot of pink. And then another. Arising from the broken, cracked bark and perched alongside seedpods as brittle as dead leaves, ERJ blooms one last time.
©️2025, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved
Butterflies don’t have norireceptors
They can’t feel pain
At least that’s what they say
They also don’t recognize human voices
Well, that’s what they say
I’ve only seen three this year
The most royal of all of the butterflies
I’m a finder of lost things and valuables that belong to others
And animals that are lost or hurt
I found her struggling on the sidewalk
I halted my walk in more ways than one
Scooped her up in my hands, and she desperately tried to fly
She had no visible injuries
Not to my eyes
I took her to my neighbor’s where I thought she might find some blooms
I offered her water from my tiny bottle cap
She did lap it up and for a moment, and I thought that was that
But she still could not fly
Even though she desperately tried
So I brought her home in a shoebox with some flowers
But that’s not the part I really want to talk about
I want to tell you how she recognized my voice and how her antennae responded when I talked to her kindly
I want to tell you she was perfect with not a spot on her to explain why she was dying
I pet her little body and talked to her sweetly
I told her she was beautiful, and although she couldn’t get to her destination
She would stay here with me
I hoped for a miracle overnight, but I knew better
At first light, I checked her shoe box and she was nearly dead, so weak she was, ants were crawling on her
I brought her in the house and showed her all the plants
I told her I loved her and would take care of her
I put her in a plastic bag and placed it in the freezer
(This is how to humanely euthanize butterflies when they are already dying)
I took her out twenty four hours later and laid her on the table. She looked the same, but her body wasn’t contorted anymore. Her antenna relaxed to a normal position rather than contracted in a sort of grimace
They say butterflies don’t feel pain. I don’t believe them.
I want to know why a beautiful, gentle creature meant to migrate thousands of miles only flew a few feet before starting to die
And other malevolent beings are granted the gift of a lengthy, destructive life
I want to know why
“It's Amy,” I said. 