2026 The Year of Harsh Truths

Posted on January 12, 2026 by tosabarbell

I looked back at the blog and am rather impressed with myself on how many posts I made a in 2025. I didn’t post at all in 2024 which now makes me question what the hecks I was doing in 2024. I must have been super content or super pissed off. It’s a crap shoot which one that made it so I didn’t even bother to tell the world. And here we are (you’re never supposed to start a sentence with And, I’m rebellious that way), 2026. I’ve labeled 2026 as the year of harsh truths. Here we go.

My weightlifting girls are some of my best girls.

But first, a recap of 2025. 2025 was the year of weightlifting. Literally. USA Masters Weightlifting, Inc. was going to be involved in the big 4 Master’s meets of the year. Nationals in Boise, ID; Pan Americans in Baton Rouge, LA; IMWA Masters World Championships in Las Vegas, NV; and the Howard Cohen American Masters in Louisville, KY. I realized the bulk of my travel would be weightlifting meets other than a few trips down to Texas to squeeze the tank of a grandson as much as I could and a trip to celebrate the HotHunkyHub’s 50th birthday.

Pepe’s Pizza Tomato Pie will make you weep with gratefulness that you get to taste such goodness.

In general, I love to travel. I’m a fairly decent traveler as long as I can overpack. I am an excellent overpacker. When I went to Vegas for two weeks, I overpacked my standard amount of stuff and then brought another suitcase full of kitchen crap so I could cook as much as possible in my room. In addition to being an excellent overpacker, I am now qualified in being able to crockpot full, delicious, meals in hotel rooms. Yeah me. Anyways.

I made batches of hotel crack chicken in Las Vegas. It was crackalicious and supplied me great food to eat.

The fact that 2025 travel revolved so much around weightlifting was a bit daunting for me. See, I’m not really a weightlifter. I didn’t grow up with this stuff. Some of the rules are stupid. Some of the people are stupid. Any weigh-in I need to work before 9 a.m. is stupid. Being in a weightlifting venue, sitting on my arse, from 6:30 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. is stupid. I’m supposed to be on vacation and I generally don’t work very hard on vacation. Add in the fact that I needed to walk miles throughout the day at these meets on two very bad knees was very stupid. Pain makes me less fun. Immense amount of pain makes me crabby enough that tempers can run short in an atmosphere that requires patience. I also wanted to ensure that my mood/energy didn’t rub off wrong on someone else who was going through their own stuff or competing and was working hard themselves to stay pleasant.

This is my favorite 2025 picture of the PollyPocket. We had just finished a weigh-in and were enjoying some peace and quiet before we went back down to the venue. I’m sure she had shoes on at some point.

There were perks, as there tends to be. I was able to spend weeks and weeks of time with most of my favorite people. I just woke up and there were my friends that usually require a phone or Teams call to connect with. I got to eat fun food that is far off my daily ground beef or chicken and jasmine rice. I rely on the PollyPocket to find fun food and she never disappoints. I met more people from around the globe and have adopted the most amazing family from Puerto Rico who epitomize the word, “family.” Liza and Julio show up each day; work hard; smile (mostly, they’re not robots); parent their two amazing (and strong) children; kick total ass; and look great doing it. I’ve even vowed to head down to Puerto Rico the next time Masters Pan Am’s are scheduled there and withstand the heat that I hate, just to see their beautiful Island and spend some time with them at a weightlifting meet. Spending time with new friends along friends of old is the greatest perk of this weightlifting thing. The hugs, the sometimes tears, the laughter, the espresso martini’s, the sugar, the exhaustion. All of it. I wouldn’t change a thing, except for better knees. Which brings us to harsh truth number one for 2026.

My newly adopted sister from Puerto Rico, Liza during her final training session before becoming a World Champion two days later. She is, in short, amazing.

New knees. I haven’t been able to put together a strong enough training block to compete since the 2022 Worlds debacle. Sure, I’ve played a bit at a few Highland Games but I wasn’t able to “Just be Juli” on a consistent basis and that pisses me off. However, I was able to train and that has seen me through more than one pissy moment. Until now. Actually, until the last 5 months or so. Each time I get my squats back up around 100kg, I blow out a bakers cyst in the back of my left knee. For the record, the left knee is my “good” knee. Which means now I’m limping around on my right knee and if you remember correctly, that is my “bad knee.” I do that until the soft tissue damage is healed up on the left and I can go back to limping around on that knee. Since I was blowing out the back of the good knee often enough this past fall, I decided that maybe I shouldn’t be doing that.

Las Vegas breakfast of champions

Also, I can not extend off the floor because of my left knee. I can block pull like a mothertrucker but floor work is out. For the first time in at least 20 years, I can’t train like I’m used to. I do work and I’ve joined a gym so that I can get on the machines as pain allows and be grateful that there is a lot of work that I can do. But I’m not squatting. I’m not pulling off of the floor. I’m not “just being juli” and it annoys me. So I need to fix it.

Number one harsh truth subpoints: I like my legs. Like, I really like my legs. God granted me a good set. My biological mother had cankles. I was that close but I guess it skipped multiple generations so my daughters and granddaughters can give it up to the Big guy for that. I haven’t liked that a portion of my legs have been so painful that I can’t train but thankfully I can do enough so that they look decent. Not as great as those 10×10 squat days but still okay. Now I’m losing that. No, it is not the end of the world but it is a truth that I still needed (okay, need) to address and be honest about.

Toups Torchon

Number two subpoint, I’m afraid of the pain. Yup. The pain in my knee wakes me up now. It prevents me from doing what I want to do. At the moment, I can’t find a position to ease the sharp jolts without putting my leg in a position that produces a deep ache. How much worse will post op pain be? It’s concerning. Matt continues to remind me that the post op pain is temporary (glory is eternal. IFYKYK.) Nevertheless, the harsh truth subpoint is that I’m afraid of the pain. Boohoo. The pain of surgery, the pain of recovery, the pain of “getting back.” I’ll do it, but it’s going to hurt.

Truth subpoint, I am blessed. I have resources; the best support crew a girl could ask for; a husband who picks me up off the figurative floor when necessary; family who are not only awesome but super useful too; and a God that has given me all. Aren’t I the lucky one?

When Marshalling, it is important to be professional AND comfortable.

Harsh truth number 2. I get to do it again later this year. Yes, some do both knees together but my surgeon doesn’t and he is the right surgeon for me. Harsh truth subpoint number one for harsh truth number two (are you still following?) What if that one is worse? Or better? Or has different complications? OR? OR? OR? Psalm 56:3, When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. On the sunset of the day, God has all of my harsh truths. I’m sure some of them get an eye roll here or there (one question I asked was if I could keep my nails pretty. Sure, it’s low on the totem pole of necessity but it’s importance to me was worthy of asking.) Heh. And at the end of the day, all of the uncertainty that I am labeling as harsh truths, is just that: uncertainty. I can, and at times probably do, let my head roll with all of the “what if’s” or I can, and in all times most definitely do, prepare as best as possible and trust God with the information and environment and people that He has given me.

One of the best “meet” meals. The fact that I had to drive was the only thing between Michael and a thousand dollar bar tab for my bourbon tastings. You’re welcome, Michael.

There is only one way to happiness, and that is to cease worrying about things which are beyond the power of our will. Epictetus

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To A(i) or Not to A(i), That is the Question.

Posted on August 13, 2025 by tosabarbell
I didn’t know this version of my grandparents and I believe that, I guess, I wasn’t put on the earth in this time to know them young. While AI can “change” that, should it?

For the most part, I have ignored Elon Musk’s AI Twitter (I’m old, I still Twitter) posts. I don’t know, it feels like his AI posts range from his current kink to fake morphing pictures of beautiful, very fake, women. As if we don’t have enough fake women running around the earth right now.

I came across a post from a woman who has lost a teenage daughter, saying she has been tempted to put pictures of her daughter into AI to, “bring her to life” and perhaps to see how her daughter would age. In the end, she has decided that her grieving heart could not absorb even more pain of falsely “watching” her deceased daughter, “grow old.” Smart woman.

The internet, and specifically smart phones, have rewired out brains. That is an absolute fact. We spend hours a day looking down, scrolling, playing mind numbing games, searching for whatever our algorithm dictates, escaping real life.

Yes, you can use the phone to learn. Historical facts, hopefully. Recipes, that’s my every day. World wide information at the tip of our fingers. Much of the technology is useful, but I fear we talk ourselves into it’s usefulness in order to negotiate with our brains how much time of our waking hours are spent scrolling. I won’t even get into the damage that technology has done to an entire generation of children, yet.

Now add AI. It is being sold as fun, creative, useful, comforting, another escape. Bring your loved ones to life, maybe even have a computer generated conversation with them. Are we being rewired again? Has anyone asked that question? What are the risks? Are our brains ready for this? Are our hearts?

My first concern (always the kids) is that the schools are going to implement AI in ways that alter how children view reality without the average parent understanding how detrimental this can be. My second concern is that we’re going to lose even more adults to the almighty technology god that brings the dead back to life.

Dramatic? Maybe, time will tell. I’ve read Pet Cemetary, we’ve been here before. We learned that cats and small children don’t come back the same. Similar, yet off. Oh, and evil. But not the same. Neither can AI bring our loved ones back the same. It is a false promise that you can be with your dead loved one, no matter how much “fun” is sold. Fake news. Misinformation. A lie. Why would the tech giants want us to continue to go down the rabbit hole of deceit? Softening our minds and bringing in a new age of mental distress? I don’t have that answer. I believe perhaps that one is each of us to answer ourselves.

My third concern is how, as Christians, are we to approach AI? Do we believe that “bringing” the dead back to “life” is of God? The answer to that, for all, is a definitive no. God’s promise is that, through His Grace and our repentance, we will meet again in Heaven. Not on the computer. The intense temptation to ‘see’ our loved ones in the here and now is going to be big. Too big for many. An alternate reality, or I should say, another alternate reality.

How many of us are going to want to live in the computer generated reality where our loved one still ‘lives?’ Many, I fear. Why not? Who likes to live with pain? Not me. Not you?

Yet the fact remains that this is our world. Painful at times, imperfect, difficult, confusing. We are faced with challenges that give us opportunity to lean into God or to lean onto the world. Is AI another sparkling falsehood that Christians need to keep an eye on from afar?

I don’t know, for sure. I have my thoughts and I believe that we will quickly be able to see, if we’re watching, how these computer generated images and morphing pictures are affecting those around us.

For now, I would mentally place caution tape around AI. Yes, we can walk through it and there may even be times where it’s necessary. However, on a daily basis, we should heed the huge manhole in the middle of that caution tape before willingly removing the cover and gleefully jumping into the unknown.

To be, or not to be, that is the question. Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them. Hamlet

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Green Goo

Posted on June 26, 2025 by tosabarbell
Totally worth it.

Years, and years, and years ago I was living in Carlton, Minnesota. A small town about a half hour or so southwest of Duluth. As of the 2020 census, it had 948 people living in it. I think it’s grown since I was there. Funny enough, when we told Matt’s Auntie and Uncle that we were moving to small town Minnesota last year we got a dire warning from Auntie, “Be careful of those small towns.” I still don’t know what that meant. Anyways.

I’ve wrote about Carlton before. The happy Vacation Bible School memories at Jay Cooke State Park; the car jaunts to stinky Cloquet that seemed like hours in the car but was more like 8 miles; and the trips to Duluth for speech therapy and trips to Zayers Shopper’s City. Playing on the railroad tracks at 5 years of age with my best friend, Chrissy Davis and snowmobiling in the woods a couple of blocks away from our house (once this Hawaiian decided to like snow. It took a while.)

Chrissy’s mom also babysat me at times when my mom would help out at the church. I used to go with her to church and ride my tricycle around the front but then I was booted out of the circle of trust when I attempted to ride a couple of miles away to pick up my brother at school. (Still bitter about that one. I could have made it assuming I wasn’t plowed down by a train or semi-truck coming around the curve. Helicopter parenting harshed my mellow.)

Anyways. Green Goo.

Nearly every day, as I remember it, Chrissy’s mom would make us Green Goo for lunch. No, it’s not officially called Green Goo. It’s officially called, Green Pea soup. It is not to be confused with Split Pea with Ham. That’s gross. Chunks of peas and ham in a watery broth. Barf. Green Pea soup came out of the can like Thanksgiving cranberry sauce. All in one piece but had the consistency of an uncooked potato. You had to SLOWLY add a can of water; heat it up very carefully while stirring until you achieved that perfect Green Goo goodness smoothness. I always felt like a James Beard award winning chef when making my can of Green Goo.

When I make a can of Green Goo, I can smell Chrissy’s house. The washer and dryer were running at all times just off of the kitchen, so it smelled of detergent and hot dryer. The house was old, so it had old house smell. Chrissy’s mom almost always had curlers in her hair so the smell of whatever curl conditioner she used wafted through the kitchen among the other smells. It was glorious.

Green Goo has zero nutritional value. Don’t care. It’s delicious. It’s happy. It’s warm. It’s a happiness amongst a rough start to a rough childhood. Each winter, up until a couple of years ago, I would buy a few cans of Green Goo. I suddenly realized, a few years ago, that my Green Goo wasn’t on the grocery store shelves. What? Weird. Maybe they’re just out.

Nope. Green Goo is off the shelves. It’s gone. I have excitedly believed I’ve found it in a Wal-Mart or Target online cart but when I go to pay, it is substituted with the Split Pea with Ham garbage. Computerized mental warfare.

I’m fairly certain the Green Goo has the shelf life of about 20 years or so meaning that the few cans out there, including one for $99.00 will be good to go. This is probably why we don’t win the lottery. God knows that I would spend thousands of dollars hoarding the last remaining cans of Green Goo on earth instead of being more charitable with the money. That’s fair. Also, we forget to buy lottery tickets. That may also be a contributing factor. Dunno.

As we age, we are forced to admit to ourselves that the world we grew up in is not the world we now live in. Some of that is good. I like most modern advances. Technology is fun, at least, the technology that I actually understand. In my Green Goo days (my mom thought it was disgusting but would occasionally make me a can. She could be cool that way) DFL Minnesota Senate candidate, Bill Luther, would often come to the house for coffee with dad. They would talk about the Vikings and Twins and probably some local politics.

One thing Pastor John was always good at was listening to people. He ran counseling sessions for hours each week. The priests from across the street at St. Alphonsus church would come over and they would talk over a few beers. He would listen to the church council. He would listen to his wife. He would listen to his kids, when he was around. He would listen to complaints at the church. He would listen to ideas on how to make things better. He listened.

He also would make it very clear that by listening, it did not mean he agreed with what was being said. There were times in life where Pastor John was very stern with others. At one point, the church council attempted a coup d’etat against the other pastor. My dad sat them all down and sternly let them know that if Pastor Paul goes, Pastor John goes with him. That shut down any more attempts to split up this team. It was pretty cool. What wasn’t cool was being on the receiving end of stern Pastor John. I’m not sad those days are over. Heh. I believe attempting to listen to opposing points of view can be enlightening. But make no mistake, by listening or viewing videos, in no way means I agree with them.

Men and boys absolutely do not belong in girls and womens sports, locker rooms, or other safe spaces. There is no cellular way a man can become a woman, or a woman can become a man. Zero. America is the greatest nation on earth and President Trump is the greatest President of our time, if not ever. Living with God in your heart does not automatically make your life easier, but it does make it more meaningful and allows the promise of Grace after death. More people need healthy food with weight training and less pharmaceuticals. These are statements that would hold zero controversy in the times of Green Goo. Today? They are polarizing; controversial; triggers. This is not progress. It is the Split Pea with Ham version of magnificent Green Goo.

I’m a Green Goo girl. Through and through. While I refuse to afford spending nearly one hundred dollars on a can, I can know in my heart that it is superior to that Split Pea garbage. So don’t @ me with your Split Pea bullshit. I may listen; I may not. But I will not agree. Sorry not sorry.

If it is not right, do not do it; if it is not true, do not say it. Let your purpose be undeviating. Marcus Aurelius

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Black Smoke

Posted on May 7, 2025 by tosabarbell

In the immortal words of Michael Scott, “It’s happpenninggg.” Pope watch. Years ago, Matt and I were on our way to Lapland Finland for his last Champions League Iceman contest. We stopped in Helsinki for the night and quickly realized that most of the television stations were fixated on Pope watch. Eventually, Pope Francis was elected as Pope.

I have to admit, we took Pope watch pretty lightly. I’m not Catholic; the Catholic church had been embroiled in scandal regarding sexual abuse of children for a little over 10 years so excuse me if I don’t really take things seriously as to who will be leading this den of pedophiles (or so I believed then); and an unlimited supply of Mintuu meant that the entire process was festive, but nothing else.

Part of the festivities was the smoke. I didn’t know this was a thing. Lutherans don’t have a supreme leader except for Satan in many of their churches. Yes, Satan leads many of today’s churches including the Lutheran ones, not the point of today. For days, we watched black smoke come out of the infamous chimney. And today will most likely be the first release of, assumingly, black smoke.

Black smoke is somewhat festive, but those watching know there is more coming. The Cardinals are still voting. They’re not done. They’re still figuring it out. Sit tight. It may look as if nothing is happening, but you can’t see the work behind the locked doors of the Sistine chapel. Stand by.

Also this week is my and the Bigg guy’s 11th wedding anniversary. Now, if you look on the google which gift represents the 11th wedding anniversary, you would find a picture of a water heater. Yes, last week, my beloved bought me a water heater. Was it for our anniversary? Probably not but the timing was pretty spot on. He also spent hours cleaning up water in the basement which was another anniversary present, actually a little bit bigger than the water heater itself. Hard to say. But suffice it to say, the HotHunkyHubs took one for the team last week. If I were in Rome, you’d see white smoke coming from the chimney. Mission accomplished. At least one of them.

Mostly; however; we live with black smoke coming from the house. We’re still working on it. Haven’t figured it out. Compromising for an occasional white smoke day. The general public doesn’t see the work that’s happening behind one of our five doors (our house has a lot of doors going to the outside. A spectacular amount actually) but there is always work going on. Sometimes the work is festive, usually it’s mundane.

I’ve come to appreciate Pope watch. I still don’t think I can comprehend the deep meaning as a devout Catholic can, but I can understand the spiritual process. Many want a Pope that will continue Francis’ progressive momentum. Many want a more conservative Pope. What does God want? I don’t know, He hasn’t told me. Probably cuz I’m not Catholic. I hope He wants a Pope that is spiritually led, not led by world topics. We already have enough of that. It distracts us from seeking what God wants from each of us and makes us focus on political agendas of non-believers.

This is the same process Matt and I go through each day together. Who are we serving today? God? Ourselves? The world? More black smoke. The process will likely never be complete. We have to take votes all day, every day. There have been moments of white smoke throughout our 14+ years together. Mere moments. The rest of the time? Black smoke. We’re still working on it. Stand by.

What I DO know, much like (I’m guessing) the billion plus Catholics around the world, is that I’m on the right path. I’ve chosen wisely to put my belief in a marriage to a good man. Because of that, there is always a chance for a white smoke event. Together, we place God above our own worldly desires (some days. We fail a lot in that) and lean into His direction. When we do that, we succeed. Much like the church. All Christian churches in my opinion but especially the Catholic church which is on display right now.

The point of today is not to see the black smoke as a failure. You’re working on it. Keep going. Lean into God’s direction. If it’s not working, really contemplate why and don’t be afraid to change your vote. And on those days that the white smoke billows from the theoretical chimney? Celebrate. Cheer as if you’re watching from the Vatican bricks that white smoke fly. You did it. Soon enough it will be time to get back to work but, in that moment, celebrate a victory.

There is no more lovely, friendly, and charming relationship, communion, or company than a good marriage. Martin Luther

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