When Sheep Attack

I generally don't like to go to the "it's my blog and I'll write what I want" place. I decided a long time ago that I'd rather have readers and maybe make some new friends more than I wanted to be known for my biting commentary. Sure, I have opinions. I even think Deep Thoughts every now and again. I have my darker moods. I can be a regular Bringer Of The Angst if I really put my mind to it.

But, given the choice, I choose to make light. I think that finding a giggle or two in the regular, day to day stuff that drives me crazy is pretty therapeutic. Life is conflict. The blog is my Happy Place. I like it to be comfortable. I hate the thought of making the guests wince.

But, there is really no way of explaining why my Cheerful Teaching Assistant felt the need to utter the words, "Seriously...if I don't get my computer delivered this week because of you I am going to kill you," without going into a little detail. I have no choice. I must venture into that dark and dangerous place known as The Magic and Mystery Of Woman. It will teeter on the edge of Too Much Information. You will wince. I'll do my very best to keep the veil of mystery in place. I'll really, really try. And I apologize in advance to those of you who choose to keep reading in spite of this warning but who would really rather have lived in happy ignorance with regard to the inner workings of The Sheep.

There are two things that you need to know. The first isn't so bad, really. It is this:

I have a quirky sense of humor.

Not a big deal and something you probably already figured out. To those who appreciate this sense of humor, I am nothing short of a sheer delight. I'll admit that it comes off better in print most of the time. I can usually edit that enough to suit most audiences. In person, though, you don't get a delete button on my verbal chuckle-makers. Mostly they work. Sometimes they don't.

The second thing is a bit more horrific. Stop now, if you haven't the inner fortitude or if you have to face me any time in the near future and think this might be a problem. Seriously. I say this because I care about our relationship. You are so very special to me and I don't want to sully our interactions with more understanding of the Glory That Is Me than you are ready for. Here is comes...are you ready? Last chance...you were warned.

I never really gave much thought to the changes that middle age might bring. When I did let my mind wander in that direction, I always sort of figured that I'd be at a stage of life where I'd be so full of the wisdom and inner peace that I'd make the transition from Maiden to Crone with grace. Sure, I knew there might be some tricky bits. But, I was really so enmeshed in my belief that I would one day grow up that I probably engaged in a bit of denial. Plus, it was always so far away that I knew I wouldn't have to worry about it any time soon. Yup. There was going to be grace. A long, long time from now, there was going to be a graceful transition.

It didn't quite work out that way.

Menopause has not been shaping up to be the grace-filled picnic I'd been planning. In fact, I've yet to see grace entering into the picture at any point. I've looked for it. I've even tried to fake it. But I'm graceless. Totally without grace.

To be fair about this, I didn't really get the time to prepare for the whole process. I was thrust into this mess at the tender age of 40 after being pretty sickly and sporting some disturbingly high fevers. Time to study up for this event is, as I see it, sort of key to surviving. I went from a normal lady who was maybe having a few peri-menopausal symptoms to The Change in a matter of a few months.

I've weathered most of it pretty well, actually. The supposed "losses" are really gains as far as I'm concerned. There were some struggles early on, but those were born more out of my not understanding what was happening than real discomfort. Mostly, I just hum along.

But, every once in a while, my body decides to try and work the way it is supposed to. You can't blame it for trying, really. It is always rather surprised when things don't go as planned. Instead of just giving up and getting a nice black and white cookie like any other sensible being might do, my body decides to "tweak the system" a bit and see if it can't make things function. It fiddles with the temperature controls just to see if that will help. It pushes buttons inside the brain and tries flooding it with a variety of chemicals thinking that something somewhere must be a quart low. This, of course, does little save cause a complete crash of the hard drive. It then resorts to pounding on things with a hammer which leads to various pains including the one that will ultimately live just behind my right eye and cause me to see lots of sparkly things.

None of this is particularly effective. But, you gotta give the body credit for giving it the old college try. All this really accomplishes, though, is emotional upheaval. Mostly this takes the form of rage. This doesn't happen often. But every few months, the beast within is released. And woe be to those who must cross my path. Or talk to me. Or avoid talking to me when I wish to express my rage. There is no winning with me at this stage of the process. It is best to just duck and cover.

There is no grace involved and any images I may have once had of myself as the wise older woman transitioning peacefully to the next stage of life, perhaps even bestowing the gift of her life's learning upon younger women, is pretty much lost in all the shrieking. That could also account for the headaches now that I think of it. It is also the reason why a great many people came much closer to death than they might have liked over the past week or so.

My rage knows no boundaries. It spans from the children in my class, to colleagues...even to complete strangers. There was, for example, The Philosopher. He, in his infinite wisdom, thought that it might be a good idea to ponder the meaning of life this afternoon in the cool comfort of the frozen food aisle. Lost in his exploration of the intricacies of the workings of the world, he did not stop to consider the implications of standing between me and the Weight Watchers Chocolate Ice Cream Bars. The planet came very close today to losing a great thinker. All because I once had a bad fever and needed low calorie ice cream in a way that transcended my belief in loving my fellow man.

Grace? None here. I've got my grump on and it comes with a side of hot flashes. That is going to be my testimony when I'm called upon to speak in my own defense at my trial. And I like to think that there will be one or two women on that jury who will nod sagely as I speak those words. Maybe even offer me an ice cream or a Valium. Or both.

Thus, it was probably not all that surprising to learn that my attempts at being witty the other day while discussing the problems the Director Of Technology has had getting the staff computer orders delivered did not go quite as I'd planned. I was, perhaps, not as charming as I'd thought. It is entirely possible that I might have given off a "vibe." I honestly don't remember doing or saying anything that might indicate displeasure on my part. I seem to recall thinking that I should be delicate with this discussion as I'd like my new laptop delivered sometime in the next year or so and that this guy could make it happen. I was going for witty...honest.

But, it seems that I scared him a little bit. At least that is what the computer teacher told me this morning. She thought it was rather funny as it is sometimes difficult to get his attention when she needs certain matters attended to. There was discussion of putting me on her personal payroll as I was so clearly skilled at commanding his undivided attention. Granted that attention comes with a "deer in the headlights" expression...but she feels that this is a good look for her supervisor.

I, on the other hand, can see any number of flaws in this plan. Not the least of which being that terrified people tend to drop things or avoid the source of their terror. My new computer did not come today. Or maybe it did and he is afraid to deliver it. I'll never know. My Cheerful Teaching Assistant, who does not fear me or my Change of Life Rage as any sane person would, is deeply concerned that she will be considered Persona Non Grata by association. She has also ordered a new laptop through the school's payroll dedication program and is planning on using her old computer to beat me vigorously about the head and shoulders should she become infected with my Menopause Cooties in the eyes of the poor, scared tech guy.

Thankfully, tomorrow is Friday. I will grit my teeth, take many, many ibuprofen and somehow make it though the day. It will take a great deal of chocolate, but I will somehow find the grace within those silvery wrappers. Then I will have the weekend and I can use the time to recover. Maybe knit a little bit on something simple and non-rage producing.

I will also probably need to write one or two notes of apology. And maybe bake some nice cookies for the tech guy...

SA