Truly, truly this is something that could only happen to me.

Good afternoon everyone!

Okay, so here in the US we're "social distancing" which, for us, apparently means we're all meeting in the toilet paper aisle of every grocery store.

Admittedly, things have gotten very strange for a social country like the US.  Several states have gone on full on "shelter in place" lockdown while others, like Wisconsin, are still reminding their folks to wash your hands, cover your coughs, and don't stand so close to the guy in front of you.

Basically, everything your kindergarten teacher taught you.  (Guess what, I still haven't found a use for algebra...)

But for me, in this weird new world, stuff just got weirder.

Of course it did, Sarah, tell us how!

Well, before I do, remember one thing: Long ago, when I set up this blog, I made a promise to myself and my readers that I would always tell the truth and I would always share, no matter how gruesome or potentially embarrassing a topic might be. My goal has always been to laugh at myself and my pitfalls so that someone else going through the same problems might be able to laugh as well.

I believe in that I've earned your trust.

Today's topic, yes, is going to be a bit touchy and a little gross. But it's not what you think, really.  So, readers like my friends, Todd, you've been warned, but really, we aren't getting into a "GIRL TALK ONLY" kind of topic, even though it might feel that way at first.

Let's just dive in shall we?

I have contracted a yeast infection in my armpits.

I'll stand over here and let that sink in.  But let me also just share this headline, which is what came up when I googled "can I get a yeast infection in my armpits?"

Yes, You Can Get A Yeast Infection In Your Armpit ...

It started a couple months ago.  No, who am I kidding?  It started 52 years ago when I was born and stuff just started happening to me. But this latest affliction...some years back I started having itchy skin.  I've chronicled that in this blog.  So a couple months ago when my armpits started itching, I thought very little of it. And when little bumps popped up on my skin, again, I thought little of it. I have some skin tags, which are super sexy, I figured these were just more of that.

When my armpits started looking like this:

 I thought maybe I should try something other than baby oil to soften the skin and ease the itch.

Baby oil didn't work. Baby oil gel didn't work.  Cetaphil cream didn't work. Neosporin with itch relief didn't work, finally, some fairly expensive analgesic cream we found in the health an beauty aisle at Meijer...did not work.

What I was noticing, however, a certain yeasty fermented dough type scent emitting from, well, me.  I've always loved the smell of baking bread, I figured my body had just taken on a sort of nice natural smell now that I wasn't covering it with deodorant (if Matthew McConaughey can do it, why can't I?)

And then this morning, as I was again scratching the living life out of my armpits, it hit me.  I have a yeast infection...but not in a normal place.

And just to remind you all:  Yes, You Can Get A Yeast Infection In Your Armpit ...

Thanks to social distancing and the fact that I'm a bit down today (having discovered that while everyone is locking themselves away because of Covid 19 I'm dealing with...this.) hubby, who already had to be out, picked up some yeast infection crème for me which I'm now applying and which, hopefully, will cure my ailment. The tube says 7 to ten days...but I've never used it on my pits.  

So there's that.

Covid-19 Sort of Reminds Sarah of a Childhood Winter.

Hello everyone!

I like to think my blog reaches across the globe, spreading laughter and general silliness to folks no matter what language they speak. So today, while sitting at my desk waiting for an email from my employer that may, or may not, mean a whole ton of free time next week, I thought about our current "social distancing" and quarantines thanks to Covid-19 and weirdly I feel a bit the way I did many years ago while growing up in the Flint, Michigan area.

As a side note, yes, I grew up in the area where the water has been silly with lead for years. Sort of explains a few things about me, doesn't it?

Anyway...

Winters along the edges of Michigan tend to involve a lot more ice than I've seen in Wisconsin or Minnesota. (The other places I've lived.) When I was a teacher in the Detroit area, the layer of ice on top of the snow was so hard and second grader could walk on it without breaking through.

Back in the mid 70's, it was not uncommon to lose electricity in the winter as power lines broke under the weight of the ice encasing them.  One such winter, the outage was very widespread, and repair crews were stretched thin, meaning, in my household where Dad and Mom both taught school, we were all home, in the dark, for the duration.

Now, kidlings, let me explain something about power outages in the 70's.  Anything that was wireless ran on batteries and batteries cost money and we didn't have any money.  So, my brother and I played in our rooms, separately, because playing together got to be too noisy for my mom, who was tense.  (Face, it, that woman was tense throughout the entirety of my childhood.  Moms didn't drink wine during the day yet and the only thing that relaxed my mom was watching her "soaps" which she did two hours every day.  "As the world Turns" and "Guiding Light."  This was before Tivo, dvr, and even vhs.  Somewhere, those shows were running, but in our part of town, we had no power, which meant we had no TV, which meant no soaps for mom.  Basically, she and dad sat at the kitchen table, next to the biggest window, and read books or stared at each other. Electric stoves meant cold sandwiches for every meal.  And no electricity meant every time someone opened the fridge my father would yell, "GET OUT OF THERE YOU'RE LETTING THE COLD OUT!"

The worst of it was the water situation. We were on a septic system and well.  We needed Electricity to stop the water from running.  This meant we couldn't really do laundry, wash dishes, get drinks of water or...and this is my point...flush the toilet.

My parents were big on limiting the number of flushes.

Now, it's not like this went on for weeks and weeks.  I was a kid, so it seemed like forever, but we were probably without power four days, tops. Friday, over the weekend, and fixed by Monday, is my guess.  My bother and I were fine. We dragged toys up from the windowless basement room and played in our own rooms. I read as much as I could until it got too dark, or until my mom found the flashlight I snuck from my dad's workbench.  (This implies my father used his work bench for something other than general junk storage. He did not. My dad is a man of books, not so much with the working with his hands, at least not back then. Now, well, now he's learned a ton of repair stuff.  Mostly because Mom learned first.)

Anyway, the worst of it was that my parents somehow thought that if we slept a lot the time would go faster and their lives would be easier.  I mean...okay.  But back then I did not love naps like I do now. I was maybe eight.  Who loves naps when they're eight?

So at some point in this shut down, everyone had found a place to lie down and we were all NAPPING.  Except, well, I had to go.

So I went.

And I flushed.

I'm eight. Potty training wasn't that far removed from my brain. I flushed out of habit, even though my mom taped a sign to the toilet tank "DO NOT FLUSH."

From comfort of the couch, over the sound of the running toilet, my mother yelled, "WHO FLUSHED?"

This caused my father to burst out of the bedroom.  We lived in a tiny little place, and he was a tall guy. He filled the narrow hallway, and his booming voice has always, always been a giant deterrent against general tomfoolery in my life.  "You're not supposed to flush!" He said loudly.

"I forgot!"

"You can't forget stuff like that!  Now, go to your room and lie down!"

More than four decades later, I wonder if this wasn't the start of my bathroom issues.

Anyway, I went to my room, weeping. I buried myself under all of my covers. I was convinced at that age if I hid under my covers nothing could hurt me. Not robbers, not angry parents, not rattlesnakes.  (That's a story for another day.)  So I hid.

A few hours later, darkness now settling upon us all, my mom told us that we, and by we I mean mom, my brother and I, were going to her friend's house across town. They had power. They were going to make dinner for us.  Dad was going to stay home and eat cold meatloaf sandwiches by candlelight in case the repair guys showed up.

When we got to the friend's house, everything was dark.  "Oh I hope they didn't lose power too," mom muttered, easing the light brown station wagon into the driveway.

No, mom's friend met us at the door. Her house smelled awesome!  More importantly, I heard the distinct sounds of a television playing. Sure, the boy of the house was in my class and was a totally annoying guy who didn't like me. But, on the plus side, his TV worked and his mom let him watch 6 Million Dollar man, which my mom did not, but what, my mom's going to send me out of the room?

The reason the house was dark was because the friend lit candles.  "For Ambiance" she said. That was the first time I'd ever heard that word and the first time I'd seen candles used for fun.

Which started me on the path to my current Partylite addiction, I'm sure.

Anyway, it was a great meal.  I got to see television.  We may have even slept over at their house, since they had, you know, HEAT, and we did not.

The point of this all is, my friends, is that we will be okay.  It's going to be a struggle, sure. But we are far better stocked and set up for quarantine and social distancing than my family ever was for a four day black out.

Wash your hands, stay home as much as possible.  Check in on your elderly friends and family, see if they need something when you do head out to the grocery store.

Also, SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL EATERIES AND COFFEE SHOPS!  These small, local places are suffering.  Get carry out, call for delivery, buy gift cards.  Don't let small business die!

We got this!

Christian Rock, a New Member of the Family, and what got dumped on Sarah at a Toby Mac Concert.

Good morning all!

Last night, Hubby took me to Toby Mac's Hits Deep concert.  Now, this was definitely outside the box for me.  First of all...rock concerts have not been my friend of late.  Second of all, we JUST saw Piff the Magic Dragon last weekend and honestly, two big nights out among people...that's a lot

for me.  (Let's just say this is the month when all those "PERFECT" Christmas presents are happening.)

Side note, see this show. It's hilarious!

Also, while I do enjoy Christian contemporary and rock music, I'm not an avid listener and other than the headliner, Toby Mac, I had zero knowledge of any of the other acts playing this very concert.

To fully understand me (who would want that?) we have to go back to the dawning of, well, me.  See, I was raised in what can only be called a super ultra mega religious conservative family. All of my elder relatives were in THE MINISTRY  (not the band, no, service to GOD) and I, too, was educated parochially and then went into the ministry as a parochial school teacher.  As far as my upbringing was concerned (and I'm not making this up) when it came to music, popular music was the work of the devil (unless it was Perry Como or The Kingston Trio.  The Osmonds were a big too edgy and the Partridge Family...well that was just going to send you straight to Hell.)

When Christian Contemporary music started popping up, it was a whole different battle for my elders. See, in my family, the PIPE ORGAN was the only proper instrument in church and, really, if there must be something else, I guess we could get crazy and play trumpets, but only on Easter Sunday.  When it came to this new music, this...well, AMY GRANT...that was considered at the very least useless, and, in some realms, more damaging to good Christian teens than say, satanic backmasking.   (You younger folks, go look that up.)

And this was all before Brittany Spears wrapped a snake around herself.

Wow, did I get off topic.  

Anyway, my point is that I wasn't exactly raised listening to CC music. Which doesn't mean I haven't had the opportunity to get into as an adult. Plenty of adults (most of them in my church choir) listen to K-love and know all the songs and all the artists.  Not me.  I liked listening to the radio as a teen, we all did, and in college I experimented with alternative rock, but by the time I became a full on adult, my musical tastes were pretty much set and, not being a big scholar of music, I'm perfectly satisfied with my CD collection as it is.  I'm more into movies now anyway, so my last several music purchases have been movie soundtracks.  But, thanks to a recent change of churches, my church choir, and musicians like Mike Westendorf, I'm learning.

So we're at this concert last night and I don't know any of the songs or any of the artists, and there were a lot...but still, I was having fun.  The message was positive, the music was high energy, and the crowd was awesome.  

As we know, Sarah has had issues with concerts in the past.  There have been multiple Rick Springfield concerts where she's gotten a rum and coke dumped on her.  There was that Melissa Etheridge concert where she sat next to a guy who either was a Nazi or had no idea that his over head hand gesture was really, really, really funny, given that he was at a Melissa Etheridge concert.  (Crack a book, dude!)  There was the Pat Benatar concert where she sat in front of people who argued for ten minutes about who was really supposed to be in the seats, and then DUDE shouted, "Play Love is  A Battlefield" the entire concert and then when Pat did, he didn't recognize it.  And how many countless other concert mishaps have there been?

Well, something got dumped on Sarah this time too...all courtesy of the older lady behind her.  

Love, and the courage to, how do I put this...PRAISE JESUS! out loud.

See, I grew up in one of those churches where we show our love for the Lord by sitting very quietly

I mean, is there a single person who looks like they're enjoying what they're doing?

and focusing on how sinful we've been.  The lady behind me clearly came from a different denomination.  She was definitely not ashamed about her faith, nor was she shy about adding commentary to the performers' talking points.

She started slowly, a few "Amens" and "Yes Lord" as the opening act performed.  The second act was a little loud, but she managed to get a "Mm, Hm yes!" over to me.

Right before the intermission (this was a Looong concert with a half dozen artists playing) the MC came out and talked about how HOPE is so important and how he'd gone to Ethiopia and met with a young family of children whose parents had died and how a 12 year old boy was the head of household and how HOPE in the Gospel moved some Americans to sponsor the kids.  The story started with how the parents died.  

Lady behind me:  Oh Lord.

MC: These children lived in four mud walls.

Lady behind me:  Oh Lord Jesus.

MC:  There was no floor. They had no beds, and no roof. When it rained, they were sleeping in mud.

Lady behind me:  Mm, Mm.

MC: They had no school supplies.  They had no clothes. They couldn't go to school,  These four children just wandered around with not enough food, no clean water, no way to go to school and they slept in mud.

Lady behind me:  Oh Lord.

MC:  But then, someone filled with the HOPE....

Lady behind me: Mm, say it!

MC:  Filled with the hope of the love...

Lady behind me: Say it, Say it!

MC: With the hope of the love of Jesus...

Lady behind me: He's sayin' it! Ses Lord!

MC: Sponsored these children and now they have a roof and they have a floor and they have four beds and they have school supplies and they have clothes!

Lady behind me: He's sayin' it!  Lord, he's sayin' it!

MC:  And now they know the HOPE and the LOVE of JESUS!

Lady behind me: HE SAID IT!  Yes, LORD! HE SAID IT!

Now, I'm not sure if it was the story about these children in Ethiopia, or the verbal expression of unashamed faith from the woman behind us...but guess what?

It's a GIRL!

Yep, we, the Bradleys, have now sponsored a young girl in Rawanda. Her name is Claundine, and a buck a day and some letters from us to her will build her a house, clothe her, feed her, and give her the hope in the love of Jesus.

That's a mighty powerful buck a day. Yes, Lord.

Can't wait to tell Skippy and Peaches they have a new sister.

So...in summary...my plan going forward it to listen to more CC music on the radio because, and I know there are those who are going to disagree with me, one can only listen to so much 80's jams before you need something else. Plus, I think I can go to concerts again without worrying that my shoes are going to get ruined by rum and coke.

 I also plan to include less sitting quietly and more "YES LORD PRAISE JESUS" in my life.

Also, I have a new kid to care for, so there's that!