It’s a pretty decent app. Back in the day we had to use MapQuest, which was like being a modern pirate. Before that, there were maps, which was like being a regular pirate.
Have a great day, everyone! 
I saved a bumblebee today
It’s about 90° here now, which is unusual for April and early May. Everything is hot, including humans, animals and tiny creatures. I was on my usual excursion to my neighbor’s mailbox to retrieve her mail, and when I opened the mailbox, a bumblebee was inside. It seemed disoriented and probably was quite warm having been in a hot metal box with no escape. I had just gotten my own mail, so I had torn up junk mail in my hands which came in handy – no pun intended.
My neighbor had a package in her mailbox, but nothing else, so I ignored that for a moment and used the scraps of paper that I had just torn up to escort the bumblebee out of the mailbox. It was essentially a real Lyft. The bee climbed on and I carried it in front of me like a golden child, which bumblebees truly are. I tried to find flowers, but much of them are gone, and the new batch haven’t bloomed yet. I tried a Dianthus, but as soon as I perched him or her on there, I could see there was no pollen. I apologized and eventually convinced the bee that I would find a more suitable flower. We traveled in the same way (golden child real Lyft transport system) toward the backyard where I put the bee on some wild violet flowers. It seemed there was some pollen in these, but the bee was so heavy, the flower took a slow drop to the ground. I frowned. The bee was determined and more lively at this point, so after two attempts at the wild violet flowers, I convinced he or she to get back on the paper and I would find a flower. I walked over to the azaleas, but immediately knew there was no pollen. I was out of ideas. In that moment, the bee buzzed away – took flight and was completely recovered. Buzzy was no more silent bee. Then the bee found an appropriate weed and proceeded to feed. If you’ve been here a while, you know that I chase bumblebees for photo ops. I thought maybe the bee would let me get a quick snap in, but no. But that is ok. Their lifespan is short, after all, and they have to capture the pollen. After the bee buzzed away, I went back to my neighbor’s house, got her mail out of her mailbox and put it on her stoop.
I’ve been on insect saving duty the past three days – one of the hazards/joys (however you want to look at it) of spring. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
By A Poet
Although I do have many favorite quotes from Zora Neale Hurston, I’m going to try to follow the rules for this prompt. I know, you’re probably thinking, “Why start now?” It’s because I have a favorite quote that I really don’t think of that often but for this prompt, I thought of it.
Years ago, I bought this book:
I don’t recall why I purchased the book, but if I had to venture a guess, it would be because the book is pink, has a heart on it (your girl is obsessed with hearts and collects them – not anatomical hearts, dear reader), and it also has a pink bookmark built right in.
The book contains different chapters, which delve into the many different types of love – requited, unrequited, grief, love for pets, etc. I’m not much of a romantic, but I am sentimental. So I tend towards more eccentric quotes about not just love, but everything.
I nudged this book off my shelf for this prompt and opened it up to the page with the pink bookmark. I never take this bookmark out of this page because this is my favorite quote in the whole book, and that’s not an easy feat to accomplish.
Without further adieu, Let me introduce you to my favorite quote:
When I read this the first time, I wasn’t quite sure how to interpret it. Then I realized there were many ways to interpret it. In fact, I have a new interpretation as I write this.
What is a superstition? (We all know, because we all remember the daily prompt from not that long ago.) Examples of superstitions include walking under a ladder is considered bad luck, opening an umbrella in the house is bad luck, breaking a mirror will give you seven years of bad luck, black cats are bad luck, knocking on wood so whatever you’ve just said comes true or stays safe (depends on the situation), and many more. Superstitions are misunderstood, mysterious, used as protection. In my mind, I always think about superstitions as hovering in the air in a cloud. Superstitions are not part of reality, but they are still given deference and respect. They are very real to the person who believes.
Having said that, I believe Monsieur Baudelaire is speaking here of unrequited love, a love that to him is so precious, he keeps it in the clouds just out of reach. The image of his love stays in his mind, and in his heart is where the cherishing blooms, but his love is so much more than that. He seems to be under a spell. To say you are more than an image I dream about and cherish, you are my superstition, means to me, that you are the very thing that I believe in, the idea of which makes no sense, but I love you more than I could ever love anyone else. And yet, there is a mystery about you. Are you bad for me? If my love were requited, would it be a mistake? Would it ruin everything? Superstition has to stay in the clouds, just out of reach, and so does the love. Dream of it, cherish it, hold it in the highest regard. Be also aware of its mystery and respect the unknowingness of it.
Monsieur Baudelaire was a controversial poet in Paris in the 19th century. He was part of the Decadent era. Knowing a bit about poets myself, I’ve been thinking: is the superstition the muse? Oui.
✨💫✨
©️2024, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved
Christmas (Cactus)
I got Chris, my first cactus, shortly after starting my job at my former employer – around 2011. My Facebook Memories yesterday showed me Chris from a 2015 photo that I snapped in my office at the time. He was still a wee one, and I put a little note on him, because the housekeeping staff would come in overnight, water all the plants in an effort to help, but eventually they would drown them and the plants would die. Everyone knew if you had a plant you’d better stick a post it on it and write, “Please don’t water, thank you!”
Eventually – and most likely unbelievably by looking at the photo above – Chris outgrew his spot on the top of the bookshelf. I had to carefully carry him out to my car at the end of the workday, being careful not to tear any limbs off in the process. I put him on the floor of the passenger side of my car, where he proceeded to tip over three or four times on the thirty mile journey home.
Chris had a spot on my bookshelf at home for a while, then he outgrew that space as well as a few pots. I’ve read that cacti don’t like to be repotted. They like to be root bound, which I am all for, because trying to repot a cactus is not an easy task.
After Facebook showed me my memory yesterday, I decided to snap a photo of Chris present day. He ended up on a perch all by himself right next to a southwest facing window. You’ll understand why he’s by himself when I show you what he looks like now.
Chris has thrived at home, and he has cousins in another room who are not quite as large as he. They all usually start blooming in October, so I’ve taken to calling them Halloween cacti. Sometimes they bloom around Thanksgiving, so they become Thanksgiving cacti. They don’t really have a timeframe. They do what they want. That’s cool with me. I’m simply glad Chris likes his pot, because I am never going to be able to repot this lanky gentleman.
Yes
Here’s a picture of a squirrel I feed. She shows up every day on my porch, like my other outside children do, so I grab the jar of peanuts and instruct her to follow me to my mom’s cherry tree. She follows and I toss some peanuts under the canopy, where she dines with a meditating cat statue and a fake stone that reads, “Make Your Mama Proud.” The squirrel is going to have babies soon, and she will tell them to come here for food. She will drop them off one day and that will be it – I will be happily feeding all of them.
As The Crow Flies
To go as the crow flies is to take the most direct route somewhere. Going as the crow flies is the shortest path between two points.
This expression has to do with traveling—in a very specific way. If you travel as the crow flies, you've gone somewhere as quickly and directly as possible. A shortcut is a good way to go as the crow flies. A direct airplane flight with no transfers is another way to go as the crow flies. When you think of this term, imagine a bird flying in a straight line from point A to point B.
I moved to the state I live in now when I was just turning seven. For reasons, Mom and I were graciously taken in by family members who lived one state away from our previous home. It wasn’t terribly far, but to a six-year-old, an hour-long car ride seems like a great distance to travel.
From there, Mom and I moved across a two-lane highway – which is now a four-lane highway – to an apartment complex. We lived there for seven years.
Mom found her final home in a neighborhood she admired for years and would drive through on her way to pick me up from my friend’s house.
I just realized the other day, that if you plot all three of these points of residence on a map, the triangle is very small. In fact, I determined that the distance from Point A to Point B to Point C forms a very small triangle, with each arm of the triangle being about 300m. 300m translates to 0.186 miles.
Some people may think this is incredibly isolating and not very worldly, but it was entirely coincidental and not planned, as far as I know. And since I didn’t even realize it until a few days ago, I guess it could be a statement about how much I like my neighborhood and my surroundings.
You guys know Jerome, right? He’s my crow. Well, it’s more true to form to say that he is my nemesis. He is the crow that’s mad at me for eternity because I wouldn’t let him put his dirty bagels and french fries in the birdbath. He and his friends and family caw at me as I’m walking in the neighborhood. If I’m at the local pharmacy and strip mall, they’ll do it there, too. They somehow know when to show up. If I walk out of my house and Jerome starts cawing from somewhere far enough away that I can’t see him, but close enough that I can hear him, I know I’m in for quite a mouthful. Other people have crows bring them money and shiny objects. Jerome has given me intergenerational hatred. I would prefer money or shiny objects, at the very least.
“I hear you, Jerome! Good morning to you, too!” I say loudly. I’m sure my neighbors think I’m crazy, but that crow and I have beef. I wonder how old Jerome is, and how long he’s been watching me. Maybe his great-grandfather, grandfather and father saw me at Points A and B. Point C is Jerome’s territory now, as the crows fly.
©️2024, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved 
When I’ve Worked Outside
The physicality combined with the stress relieving exertion usually leads to a good night’s sleep. Whether I am up to my elbows in dirt sowing seeds, planting plants, putting cages around my perennials, or digging up old bricks from a long ago fire pit, working outside is not only beneficial exercise, but it is a sort of meditative state for me. I don’t have to think about what I’m doing, so my mind can wander. Using my strength and feeling the ground underneath helps to center me when I am feeling shaky. Sweating and feeling the ache in my muscles at the end of the day means that I got a lot done, even though sometimes it doesn’t look like it.
Brick and Mortar
This is my entry for Beginning At Last NTT 4/25/24 challenge
Brick and mortar it is no more
Shiny glass and electric doors
Replace what was once
A place of hope
Of waiting rooms
Filled with smoke
Saw babies born
And elders die
All in the blink of a tearful eye
Lost like a job
I once had
The memories of it all
Live in my mind, ironclad
No shiny glass could withstand
That which I cannot hold in my hand
The place where my life ended
As well as it began
©️2024, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved
WP Has Jumped the Shark
If you don’t know what that means, it means they have gone too far.
Which 8 year-old wrote this prompt?
Fine, I’ll play along.
Here’s my favorite emoji, via performance art:
Liberation/Autonomy
On March 4 of this year, my team got an email that we were to convene in less than 24 hours for a mandatory meeting. CCed on this meeting demand were HR and Administration. From experience, knowing others who have had similar type of meetings, we all knew this meant trouble on the job front, and likely we were all going to lose our jobs in less than 24 hours.
On March 5, we attended the mandatory meeting (I attended via Teams) and I watched as refreshments were offered to some of my teammates in person. I tried to hide my eye rolls as my camera was on. The vice president of our department asked us why we thought we were there in a very chipper tone, unfitting for the occasion. One member of my team spoke up and said she thought we were there because our jobs were being outsourced. The VP replied, “Yes, that’s it,” as if she had given the correct answer and was going to win a fabulous prize.
I sat there stunned. In the room with the VP was a representative from human resources, and people from the outsourcing company that were going to take over our department. They were there to give a talk about how great it would be to transition to working for their company. By offering us jobs of a comparable type, paying unemployment and severance could be avoided. Some of us chose not to take this road. I wasn’t one of those people. I needed to go from one job directly to another with no gaps in pay and no gaps in health insurance. Many of you here know that I have chronic migraine and have to take very expensive migraine medication. To go without insurance would bankrupt me.
The next few days I frantically contacted the talent recruiter at the agency that would be replacing us to arrange an interview, and within days I was hired at the company. I was going to start April 15. I was less than thrilled. In fact, I was cried every day. I felt like I was in a stranglehold, my self-esteem took a dip, and I felt a sense of betrayal from an employer I had been with for 13 1/2 years. We were thrown away like trash, and stepped on as we landed on the ground.
But time marches on no matter what we do or how much we cry. April 12 would be our last day at our former employer, a place where I was born, where my mother had several operations and where my father died in the operating room. But that tiny community hospital where all of these major life events occurred has been acquired by a conglomerate health system bent on saving money, and if you happen to have your life destroyed in the process? Oh, well.
Two of my colleagues and I went through the process of getting hired by the outsourcing company without any time to grieve our loss, which is much like a divorce if you think about it. Party A(sshole) decides they don’t want to be with you anymore, and you have no say in it. They’re not dead, they’re still there, so it’s not like experiencing a death. It’s a betrayal, It’s demeaning and demoralizing – professionally and personally. The notion of being jobless with only one way to acquire one quickly removes your autonomy and takes away your choices.
And so it went. My two colleagues and I started working for the outsourcing company April 15. That first week was a nightmare. I cried the entire day Monday and Tuesday. Meeting upon meeting, thrown into a new atmosphere, and a whole new way of doing a job that we all knew how to do for many years was yet another punch in the stomach. We all made it through the first week, but during that first week I hustled to find a new job, determined that I would not be there to start week three. The first two weeks were going to be onboarding, week three would start to get into the nitty-gritty about taking over the cases of our former employer. The cases we just worked on the week before would now become ours again at a different company. We would have to look at and work on those cases again. I would rather burn my hands off.
I made multiple contacts the first week. I stayed up late sending resumes, talking to talent acquisition specialists (recruiters), doing whatever I could to escape the circumstance I was in. Towards the end of the first week an opportunity opened up. I interviewed with them and took a skills assessment over the weekend. I performed very well on the assessment, which boosted my work self-esteem a bit. I asked if my coworkers who came with me from the healthcare system were interested in interviewing at this opportunity. One of my coworkers said that she was. She interviewed and was offered a position early this week. The other coworker received an offer from another company. I received a job offer early this week, and I accepted.
We worked as team for many years at the healthcare system, and we came in as our own little team to the outsourcing agency. The agency did nothing wrong, they are just collateral damage – as are we – in what has been the most heinous, egregious treatment I have ever experienced from an employer in my life. The three of us decided we would stick it out this week and then Friday – today – we would turn in our resignations to the outsourcing agency. We came in as part of our fractured, larger team, and we left as a team. 
In my resignation letter, I mentioned that everyone at the outsourcing agency was kind and gracious during this very difficult time in my life, personally and professionally. I thanked them for giving me the opportunity. The healthcare system that threw us away took away my autonomy and my ability to make choices for myself. But with just two weeks, I hustled my ass off to find a job that was by my choosing. By accepting another position outside of their agency, I regain my autonomy. I am nowhere near being healed from this – this will take months if not years to recover from, but I have made my own choice and I have taken a step towards reclaiming my self-esteem, because I know I can do the job and I’ve proven it time and time again for 13 1/2 years.
To the healthcare system that dumped me and my coworkers like trash, I say to you this: karma never forgets a name or an address.
“It's Amy,” I said. 