Bitch on the Blog

April 22, 2013


Filed under: Happiness — bitchontheblog @ 12:41
Tags: , ,

It pains me to report to you my findings: There are many snakes in our individual paradises but I have identified a corker in mine. An absolute stinker. One I didn’t think possible but then a surprise will spring at you with no regard to your happiness. A bit like the wind carrying off your hat into a distance, never to be retrieved.

In case you wonder why my font has NOT gone large: Don’t. It’s me who is going blind. Not you. And particularly not you, Lorna.

So what’s YOUR snake, the one that spoils some of your enjoyment of life? If you find this question too personal and intimate to answer in public please do indulge me in private. As most of you, and I, know, to my cost: Nothing will go far or further with me.

And it’s only Monday. By Saturday we’ll be roasting in a slow cooker. Falling off the bone.

Hugs and kisses, as ever yours in your hour of no need,



  1. I tend to be my own worst enemy, although I can think of one or two who like to indulge in backbiting.

    Comment by reneejohnsonwrites — April 23, 2013 @ 00:19 | Reply

    • The corker I was referring to isn’t an actual person. It’s one of those feelings all of us are capable of, yet I am rarely subjected to. Lucky me. Still, I too am human. So, this little seedling I will firmly hold in check by clipping it at all times.

      Ever vigilant, yours,


      Comment by bitchontheblog — April 23, 2013 @ 12:07 | Reply

  2. My snake is arthritis creeping over me. If I spent all day twisting & turning, getting down on the floor, back up, down etc.etc., I’d be good. I have this thing I stand on that tries to stretch my toes to touch my ankles so I don’t trip over rocks on hikes by not putting HEEL down 1st. Never mind all this. Hope you don’t find out. Try not to get old.

    Comment by bikehikebabe66 — April 23, 2013 @ 03:08 | Reply

    • Cynthia, when I hear ‘arthritis’ I am ready to run screaming to the hills. Or pray. Or something.

      I have said it a million times and I’ll say it again: I shall be so rubbish at getting frail I pity myself and those in the vicinity already. I live in total denial that anything but anything can possibly not be in working order. So was cruelly awoken when the Angel – in the wake to cracking something lower down my spine doubled me over with pain – said: “Mama, you walk like an old woman.” Right, that was it. I rather bite my lips and grind my teeth to suppress what ails me than walk like a bent over old woman. No joke: The last few weeks I feel like a dog: Every time the pain perks up I throw it a painkiller. “Down boy, down. Good, boy.” If my doctor is going to tell me (on Thursday) that that is what is to be expected when bones become a little more brittle I shall weep. It is most certainly NOT what I expect. I want a spine, but I don’t want to be reminded of its existence.

      So your advice “not to get old” is good. I wonder how much longer I’ll have.

      Keep it up, Cynthia. You’re doing great battle. And when the time bomb hits me too I shall remember to stretch, twist and turn just like you.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — April 23, 2013 @ 12:29 | Reply

  3. Anger. That’s my snake. I can’t function around it–no matter the source. I don’t know what to do with it if I feel it arise in me (which is rare either by nature or practice). When it boils up in others, I have that lovely “freeze” reaction that serves to get animals killed in nature. The ones who flee or fight at least do something their adrenaline. I just become a useless statue of whirling adrenaline waiting for the inevitable fatal blow. My only hope is that the source of the rage or anger will think I’m already dead and leave me alone–It’s no fun to attack a rock. 😉

    Comment by Lorna's Voice — April 23, 2013 @ 14:09 | Reply

  4. You should migrate to India Ursula. We have professional snake charmers who remove such undesirable visitors to our zones of comfort.

    Comment by rummuser — April 23, 2013 @ 14:29 | Reply

    • You know what I like about snake charmers, Ramana? Or should I say their snakes? Their movements appearantly so effortless, so full of grace, elegance.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — May 9, 2013 @ 16:02 | Reply

  5. The fact that life’s a bitch and then you die becomes more real every damn day. Oh well. It’s just what it is I guess. And that stretching, twisting and turning is necessary just to dodge bullets – real and imagined!

    Comment by shackman — April 24, 2013 @ 11:54 | Reply

    • I laugh every time I think of “life is a bitch and then you die”. It’s true & not funny. We won’t consider that.
      “How are you?” “I’m GREAT!” my mouth says but my aging body says “You liar.”

      Comment by bikehikebabe66 — April 25, 2013 @ 18:55 | Reply

    • Shackman, have reached that time where, yes, even I sometimes reflect back. Not quite in the vein of what’s her name “Is that all there is” but certainly full of wonderment. My life hasn’t been a bitch. But then I suppose I am blessed with a temperament that takes things in its strides. And I had many a good and well intentioned fairy at my cradle. Only the one with the purse string was a bit tight. That you die is a certainty. One which I find fascinating. And why every morning I wake up I am stupidly grateful for the miracle. After all, think about it: If I didn’t wake up I’d be the only one NOT knowing about it. Which is why, so far so futile, I am trying to write a manual for the Angel: ‘How to bury your mother whilst still in fresh socks and underpants, circumventing Bureau Crazy and generally being allowed to grieve whilst happy”, Till that is down black ink on white paper I’ll have another breath in me.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — May 9, 2013 @ 16:16 | Reply

  6. Anxiety. If I ever spend an entire day not worrying about anything, I’ll know I’ve died and gone to heaven.

    Comment by Nick — April 28, 2013 @ 20:55 | Reply

  7. Like Renee, at first I thought you were talking about a person who’d done something to hurt or betray you. Obviously, it’s health-related, and I guess that’s worse. You can get away from human snakes.

    I hope you’re feeling better.

    Comment by bronxboy55 — May 8, 2013 @ 13:53 | Reply

    • Charles, as always you are so considerate/considered. Can you get away from human snakes? I wouldn’t know. I lead a charmed life in many ways. Even those who leave me somewhat bewildered I’d not describe as snakes.

      Sticking with paradise: Your guess at being ‘health-related’ not far off the mark,; my super healthy self being slightly baffled over the last few years at what can befall even the genetically most blessed. Now I am as good as new. What I was referring to in my post was an emotion. I don’t find it easy to go into confessional mode unless I talk to someone personal. However, no good to be a tease. So here it is:The emotion was one I generally don’t entertain and have been lucky enough to escape most my life. A tinge of jealousy. A tinge, just a tinge. Still. It prickled. For a moment. I pride myself on being independent, not needing anyone. Yet – just once, a little glimpse a few days ago – when I thought how lovely it must be to be someone’s number one (other than in the life of your child). It was fleeting. Yet poignant.

      There you are, Charles. Just got the best out of me.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — May 9, 2013 @ 15:58 | Reply

      • I’ve had a few human snakes in my life, and I had to learn that you can’t talk them out of being what they are. The only remedy is distance. I’m glad I figured that out, eventually.

        Just a tinge of jealousy. Maybe that’s the worst case — like feeling as though you have to sneeze, but can’t quite. We could talk for hours about this, couldn’t we?

        I’m glad to hear your health is as good as new.

        Comment by bronxboy55 — May 10, 2013 @ 10:54 | Reply

  8. Yes! Finally someone writes about accounts.

    Comment by vacation reply — May 31, 2013 @ 06:08 | Reply

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