It is amazing how the body can manifest physical symptoms of stress. Bud and I have both been suffering from back issues--his is his lower back, and mine is more in the thorax region. It was so bad for me last week, I had to miss a day of work and have Bud take me to the ER--just got the bill, and THAT just doubled my stress!
We are also taking our stress to bed with us. We have both suffered from fitful nights these last several weeks. For Bud, it has taken a turn to violent outburst when he is in the deepest sleep. Usually it is the yelling that wakes me up, but sometimes, it is the blows. Lately, he has taken to beating the shit out of a particular family member in his dreams each night. Unfortunately, he physically acts out his dream, and some nights, I have to jump out of bed fast!f
Bud, or course, feels awful that he had been taking swings at me in the dark as he beats the tar out of this person. I find it intriguing that Bud's sub-conscious has decided the best way to relieve the stress is to punch the living daylights out of this person--dream therapy? We can do things in our dreams that we really can't act out in reality (translated: vindication in dream state, prison term in reality).
I have been having dreams about my son on almost a nightly basis. One night, he was a young warlock who wasn't able to control his immense powers; another night, he was just a little kid who ends up being punished in a way for something that was really my fault; in yet another, we were helping him move, and I realized he had so little to actually move, it made me sad.
As Bud's doctor pointed out, we need to focus on the stuff we can control, and stop stressing about the things beyond our control. We have a roof over our head; we are not starving; we have electric and water and a toilet that flushes; we have transportation; we have friends; we have family; we have each other. The rest? It is just stuff. We can't control it, so we need to just let it go as best we can and concentrate on the things that bring us peace.
I had just started riding my bike and doing yoga when this back stuff started to flair up. I am going to try and start back with the yoga little by little, and finding time each day to just meditate on peaceful, peace-filled thoughts. Hopefully, the new sleep medication will help Bud to have a tension-less night so he can get a real night's sleep. Maybe, just maybe, we can release the stress, and it will release its grip on our backs.
To the things I can't control: Kiss my ass!
Showing posts with label mental health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mental health. Show all posts
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
It's the Little Things...
While I have been mourning the fact that one of the few bloggers I follow is not going to be blogging much any more, another, who stopped blogging back in December, resurrected her blog, and that made me very happy. She is such a fantastic writer--love her wit! I am glad she is back.
I also had a great dream last night involving a wonder home that we were looking to rent. The woman renting the place said we didn't have to pay rent for the next seven months, because the the previous tenants had paid that far ahead, and didn't leave a forwarding address for her to send the rebate check. The only condition she had was that we clean it before moving in. We took the tour of it, and wasn't too bad, just needed a good once over and the carpet cleaned. (For the record, Bud and I re-cleaned any apartment or home before we moved in, as you just never know...).
The cool thing was that the home was fully furnished, and not with cheapy furniture, either. It even had dishes, pots and pans, etc. The only thing we needed to move in was our clothing and personal items! It was so cool, too--it was actually a duplex, but instead of side by side it was front and back. The front was empty, too, and my step-sister was going to move in to it with her daughter (in my dream, the rental was owned by a member of her church--that is how we found out about it). While the woman was giving Bud and I a tour of the back unit, her son was giving my step-sister a tour of the front half.
I felt bad, because our side overlooked a beautiful lake, and her side would face the road, but she told me not to worry, because she and the son really hit it off. Turns out they had dated on and off over the years, and were reconnecting. He owned a huge house down on the lake, and he had invited her to come live with him, no strings.
Our side was set up pretty cool. The entrance took you directly into the kitchen. Not the kitchen of my dreams, but it was as small as some of the kitchens we have had in the past. Beyond the kitchen was the dining room and living rooms, with a staircase that went to the lower level. At the back of the unit was a bedroom and a bathroom. The lower level was a finished walk-out style basement, and it was obvious it had only recently been remodeled. It had three bedrooms (fully furnished, one with bunk beds) that opened to a large family room. Off the family room was a well-appointed laundry room with a new washer and dryer. The family room had a slider that opened to a walk-out patio with patio furniture and a fire pit, and that view of the lake.
I woke up thinking, "I want that house"! I am in such a good mood, feeling positive and hopeful. I had went to sleep feeling stuck and depressed (this house is sooooooo small, it feels like we are constantly on top of one another).
Maybe things are about to change for us...fingers crossed!
I also had a great dream last night involving a wonder home that we were looking to rent. The woman renting the place said we didn't have to pay rent for the next seven months, because the the previous tenants had paid that far ahead, and didn't leave a forwarding address for her to send the rebate check. The only condition she had was that we clean it before moving in. We took the tour of it, and wasn't too bad, just needed a good once over and the carpet cleaned. (For the record, Bud and I re-cleaned any apartment or home before we moved in, as you just never know...).
The cool thing was that the home was fully furnished, and not with cheapy furniture, either. It even had dishes, pots and pans, etc. The only thing we needed to move in was our clothing and personal items! It was so cool, too--it was actually a duplex, but instead of side by side it was front and back. The front was empty, too, and my step-sister was going to move in to it with her daughter (in my dream, the rental was owned by a member of her church--that is how we found out about it). While the woman was giving Bud and I a tour of the back unit, her son was giving my step-sister a tour of the front half.
I felt bad, because our side overlooked a beautiful lake, and her side would face the road, but she told me not to worry, because she and the son really hit it off. Turns out they had dated on and off over the years, and were reconnecting. He owned a huge house down on the lake, and he had invited her to come live with him, no strings.
Our side was set up pretty cool. The entrance took you directly into the kitchen. Not the kitchen of my dreams, but it was as small as some of the kitchens we have had in the past. Beyond the kitchen was the dining room and living rooms, with a staircase that went to the lower level. At the back of the unit was a bedroom and a bathroom. The lower level was a finished walk-out style basement, and it was obvious it had only recently been remodeled. It had three bedrooms (fully furnished, one with bunk beds) that opened to a large family room. Off the family room was a well-appointed laundry room with a new washer and dryer. The family room had a slider that opened to a walk-out patio with patio furniture and a fire pit, and that view of the lake.
I woke up thinking, "I want that house"! I am in such a good mood, feeling positive and hopeful. I had went to sleep feeling stuck and depressed (this house is sooooooo small, it feels like we are constantly on top of one another).
Maybe things are about to change for us...fingers crossed!
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Clawing My Way Back to the Land of the Living
In an effort to "stabilize", I have been trying to do more outside these days. I planted strawberries (I won! MIL conceded and allowed me to plant them where I wanted to in the first place.), morning glories along the fence row, honeysuckle and jasmine alone the other fence row, butterfly bushes, hummingbird vines...my way to keep busy and not fall into a pit of madness.
I couldn't grab the camera fast enough to get a picture.
I hung hummingbird feeders over a month ago, and we finally had our first visitor yesterday. He looked like this one:
I couldn't grab the camera fast enough to get a picture.
He sure was a pretty one, though! I don't know if it was a scout or not, I just hope he gets the word out that we are feeding his kind!
It is going to be a bad year for ticks. I have already pulled three off of me in the last two days--not a good start. Need to start the dogs on Frontline asap!
Still no job, and I still have hemorrhoids, if anyone is keeping track. Lordy, why does aging have to be so undignified at times?
I am heading out now to enjoy the last of the sunlight and see if I can catch another glimpse of hummingbirds.
Sorry I have been in such a negative funk. I know things will get better eventually--they always do.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Treading Water
I am not a swimmer, so the fact that I use the above title to describe how I feel right now is no coincidence. My health is doing better physically, but mentally, I feel on the edge all. of. the. time. I wait for the wave that is going to come rushing over my head; I wait to feel myself pulled under in the undertow; I wait to feel so tired, I just stop trying.
MIL has me doing Spring Cleaning. She pronounced that she wanted to get it done, which means I have to get it done. I have been tackling it little by little, but there is a long, long way to go.
We had a gathering this weekend of family and friends. We had planned to do a cookout back when the weather was in the 80's in February, figuring surely the last weekend before May would be nice enough to cook and eat outside. Stupid mortals...
Of course, it was ridiculously cold and rainy, and we had to move the party indoors. We did karaoke, which was fun for about two hours, then I couldn't wait for it to get over with. I was tired. Bud was tired.
The reason we were so tired was all the pre-party work that went into it. Had to clean and rearrange the living room to make space for the karaoke equipment. I had to make all the accompanying food to go with the burgers I was cooking on the grill. MIL was calling people for three day to make sure they were still coming and assuring them it was still on, rain or shine.
Back to Spring Cleaning. Part of the cleaning is the storage room, which is a mess. It happens to be where our life is right now, packed away in boxes. She wants it cleaned out and organized. I don't mind, but it was hard to get at with our karaoke equipment in there as well. Since we had pulled all our karaoke equipment out for the party, I asked if we could leave it set up in the living room a few days so we could tackle the storage room. She said it was okay, but then the day after the party, she announces she wants the equipment out of the living room.
Sooooooo, Bud and I have to scramble and try and get the storage room cleaned and organized and get the equipment out of the living room today. It is an enormous task that should really be tackled over several days, but we have to somehow pull it off today, or MIL will get beyond moody. When she wants something done, it needs to be done, NOW.
I think I need swimming lessons.
MIL has me doing Spring Cleaning. She pronounced that she wanted to get it done, which means I have to get it done. I have been tackling it little by little, but there is a long, long way to go.
We had a gathering this weekend of family and friends. We had planned to do a cookout back when the weather was in the 80's in February, figuring surely the last weekend before May would be nice enough to cook and eat outside. Stupid mortals...
Of course, it was ridiculously cold and rainy, and we had to move the party indoors. We did karaoke, which was fun for about two hours, then I couldn't wait for it to get over with. I was tired. Bud was tired.
The reason we were so tired was all the pre-party work that went into it. Had to clean and rearrange the living room to make space for the karaoke equipment. I had to make all the accompanying food to go with the burgers I was cooking on the grill. MIL was calling people for three day to make sure they were still coming and assuring them it was still on, rain or shine.
Back to Spring Cleaning. Part of the cleaning is the storage room, which is a mess. It happens to be where our life is right now, packed away in boxes. She wants it cleaned out and organized. I don't mind, but it was hard to get at with our karaoke equipment in there as well. Since we had pulled all our karaoke equipment out for the party, I asked if we could leave it set up in the living room a few days so we could tackle the storage room. She said it was okay, but then the day after the party, she announces she wants the equipment out of the living room.
Sooooooo, Bud and I have to scramble and try and get the storage room cleaned and organized and get the equipment out of the living room today. It is an enormous task that should really be tackled over several days, but we have to somehow pull it off today, or MIL will get beyond moody. When she wants something done, it needs to be done, NOW.
I think I need swimming lessons.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
MIA
Sorry for the long hiatus from the blog. I just haven't felt like being here. I no longer have a job (self-inflicted termination), and I have an annoying health issue that has been driving me insane since the 27th of March: hemorrhoids.
And when I say driving me insane, I mean quite literally. I am anxious, stressed, losing sleep, uncomfortable or in pain constantly...I have been to the ER twice, hoping for relief. You know what they did to "help"? They gave me Valium for the anxiety and some "butt paste" that was absolutely worthless on the first visit, and they gave me Tylenol 3 and another "butt paste" on the second visit. The codeine in the Tylenol 3 triggered a migraine yesterday, and I spent the whole day in bed.
In the meantime, my literal pain in the ass is becoming a huge pain in the ass! They are thrombosed, which means they are external and have formed blood clots--two, big (relative here. They are the size of lima beans, but feel like cantaloupes) bulging masses hanging out of my rear end. UGH!
I know this is really, REALLY too much information, but jeezo petes! I have no job, no insurance, no money. There are NO doctors in this area who will accept patients without insurance. My only option is the ER, and I just can't WAIT to get the bill for the two worthless visits I have made thus far.
I spend a good chunk of my day sitting in sitz baths to get some relief and keep the area clean. I use Preparation H wipes to cool and soothe the area. I use witch hazel to try and shrink them. I use prayer to try and stay sane.
On that note, I can't sit here any longer. Just an update, of sorts. Sorry it is so negative and graphic.
And when I say driving me insane, I mean quite literally. I am anxious, stressed, losing sleep, uncomfortable or in pain constantly...I have been to the ER twice, hoping for relief. You know what they did to "help"? They gave me Valium for the anxiety and some "butt paste" that was absolutely worthless on the first visit, and they gave me Tylenol 3 and another "butt paste" on the second visit. The codeine in the Tylenol 3 triggered a migraine yesterday, and I spent the whole day in bed.
In the meantime, my literal pain in the ass is becoming a huge pain in the ass! They are thrombosed, which means they are external and have formed blood clots--two, big (relative here. They are the size of lima beans, but feel like cantaloupes) bulging masses hanging out of my rear end. UGH!
I know this is really, REALLY too much information, but jeezo petes! I have no job, no insurance, no money. There are NO doctors in this area who will accept patients without insurance. My only option is the ER, and I just can't WAIT to get the bill for the two worthless visits I have made thus far.
I spend a good chunk of my day sitting in sitz baths to get some relief and keep the area clean. I use Preparation H wipes to cool and soothe the area. I use witch hazel to try and shrink them. I use prayer to try and stay sane.
On that note, I can't sit here any longer. Just an update, of sorts. Sorry it is so negative and graphic.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Because God evidently doesn't think we have enough stress....
MIL is in the hospital. We took her to the ER at 3am on Monday morning, as she was having chest pains. They took her by ambulance to Borgess Hospital in Kzoo, and they did a heart cath. Turns out, she has three major blockages and and needs bypass surgery.
So now the poor woman has to deal with both dialysis and having her chest cracked open on Friday. She is taking it amazingly well. She is of course scared, but she has accepted that it has to be done and there is not a whole lot she can do about it.
This is a major deja vu for me--takes me back to when ES was in T-town and had her leg amputated. Drove 45 miles every day after work to go see her while she was in the hospital. Guess how far Kzoo is from here? Yup, just over 45 miles. At least this time, Bud and I are dealing with it together. When ES was int he hospital, if you were a follower of the other blog, the Self-Sustaining Kitchen( http://bamagalskitchen.blogspot.com/ --it is still up and running--go there for a lot of background and more on this storyline), you know that right after ES had the amputation, Bud had to rush to Michigan because his mom had had a heart attack, and his dad was in the hospital as well...not a pleasant time in our lives to say the least.
Mom is scheduled to have surgery on Friday, and Bud and I have been operating on little to no sleep; calling friends and family to keep them updated; trying to not have meltdown. I just did all the homework for one of my classes in record speed. My brain is thoroughly fried.
MIL, ever the worrier, is focusing not on her pending surgery, but rather on the fact that she was supposed to get her car serviced on Friday, was supposed to meet a friend for lunch this week, and oh, yeah, Peanut, the Jekyll-Hyde dog, was supposed to go get her annual booster shots. Not to mention that she had a ton of crafting projects she was working on that she had planned on finishing...gotta love her. She is obsessive-compulsive-and-very-likely-insane.
Keep her in your thoughts, everyone--all three of you intrepid followers!
So now the poor woman has to deal with both dialysis and having her chest cracked open on Friday. She is taking it amazingly well. She is of course scared, but she has accepted that it has to be done and there is not a whole lot she can do about it.
This is a major deja vu for me--takes me back to when ES was in T-town and had her leg amputated. Drove 45 miles every day after work to go see her while she was in the hospital. Guess how far Kzoo is from here? Yup, just over 45 miles. At least this time, Bud and I are dealing with it together. When ES was int he hospital, if you were a follower of the other blog, the Self-Sustaining Kitchen( http://bamagalskitchen.blogspot.com/ --it is still up and running--go there for a lot of background and more on this storyline), you know that right after ES had the amputation, Bud had to rush to Michigan because his mom had had a heart attack, and his dad was in the hospital as well...not a pleasant time in our lives to say the least.
Mom is scheduled to have surgery on Friday, and Bud and I have been operating on little to no sleep; calling friends and family to keep them updated; trying to not have meltdown. I just did all the homework for one of my classes in record speed. My brain is thoroughly fried.
MIL, ever the worrier, is focusing not on her pending surgery, but rather on the fact that she was supposed to get her car serviced on Friday, was supposed to meet a friend for lunch this week, and oh, yeah, Peanut, the Jekyll-Hyde dog, was supposed to go get her annual booster shots. Not to mention that she had a ton of crafting projects she was working on that she had planned on finishing...gotta love her. She is obsessive-compulsive-and-very-likely-insane.
Keep her in your thoughts, everyone--all three of you intrepid followers!
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
What the What?!?!?!?!
I am taking a finance class this semester, one that I previously gave up in around the 4th week and took a big fat "F" in as a result. I took it last year when my FIL committed suicide, and dealing with that took too much out of me to even think about completing the class.
This time around, I am trying hard to stay focused on it. Not an easy task. We are now talking about the time value of money--in other words, taking advantage of investing opportunities and discounts. I find myself completely lost most of the time, and I ask LOTS of questions. I am sure the professor thinks I am a total idiot: "So, Ms. Weiser, you want to go into the business field? I would advise getting an accountant to help you out..."
Okay, he didn't say that, but boy, do I feel like I am just not getting it! I will be glad when this class is over. I will be glad when ALL my classes are over for a while. I keep telling myself that I will go back and get my MBA at some point, but do I really need to pursue a masters when I am approaching my geriatric years? I will never be a Donald Trump, but I would like to think that my education is an investment that will lead to a greater return in the future. Gee, maybe I am getting this concept of the time value of money...they sure are taking enough of it right now!
We are Broke with a capital "B" right now--can't even run to town to buy a paper, as we don't have the gas to burn, and we don't have the 75 cents for a paper. BUT--we have a roof over our heads, and there is food in the house, so I am NOT bitchin'. It just feels aweful to have no money in the bank, no money in my billfold, and social security benefits are drying up faster than a rain puddle in mid-August. Let's not go there. My mental health is hanging by a thread these days, and I don't have the dexterity anymore to tie a knot...
This time around, I am trying hard to stay focused on it. Not an easy task. We are now talking about the time value of money--in other words, taking advantage of investing opportunities and discounts. I find myself completely lost most of the time, and I ask LOTS of questions. I am sure the professor thinks I am a total idiot: "So, Ms. Weiser, you want to go into the business field? I would advise getting an accountant to help you out..."
Okay, he didn't say that, but boy, do I feel like I am just not getting it! I will be glad when this class is over. I will be glad when ALL my classes are over for a while. I keep telling myself that I will go back and get my MBA at some point, but do I really need to pursue a masters when I am approaching my geriatric years? I will never be a Donald Trump, but I would like to think that my education is an investment that will lead to a greater return in the future. Gee, maybe I am getting this concept of the time value of money...they sure are taking enough of it right now!
We are Broke with a capital "B" right now--can't even run to town to buy a paper, as we don't have the gas to burn, and we don't have the 75 cents for a paper. BUT--we have a roof over our heads, and there is food in the house, so I am NOT bitchin'. It just feels aweful to have no money in the bank, no money in my billfold, and social security benefits are drying up faster than a rain puddle in mid-August. Let's not go there. My mental health is hanging by a thread these days, and I don't have the dexterity anymore to tie a knot...
Friday, August 19, 2011
Insomnia
I really, really, REALLY want to be asleep right now. This is day three of insomnia. I am dog tired, but as soon as I hit the bed, my mind starts to race, and I get jittery. I can feel every corpuscle in my body, and it is driving me insane.
I literally can feel the blood flowing through my veins. I am stressed, because I have two HUGE term papers due, and I have zero alone time except at night when I am too tired to focus on that shit. So I instead toss and turn in bed and think, "maybe Bud will sleep in, and I can get my butt up as soon as MIL leaves for dialysis. That will give me 5 hours of uninterrupted computer time."
My plan had been to go to the library on Tuesdays and Thursdays so I wasn't being distracted. Unfortunately, being broke and having the van running iffy at best has prevented me from going.
I can already see my obit: "...died from stressing out over term papers."
I feel sick to my stomach, and I feel like my body is humming like a taught wire. NOT a good feeling. I took a muscle relaxant, as it usually knocks me out. Hell, it didn't even help the pain, let alone put me out.
Grrrrrrrrrrrr! My jaw hurts from being clenched. Stress much?
Hubby just got up to pee. I envy his snoring. I should have taken a nap today--then I would be fresh enough to tackle some homework.
Geez, am I a whiner or what?
Monday, August 8, 2011
I Need a 12 Step Program...
I am obsessed with POGO. I may have mentioned this before. I am what they call a badge addict. POGO is an online gaming site with hundreds of games to choose from. They feature 2 games each week in which members can vie for "badges". To win a badge, you have to complete the challenge they give you. Members can also select personal challenges to complete. You can even purchase challenges (okay, I am not quite THAT sick--yet).
As you know, I am taking a full boatload of classes this semester, in addition to having "chores" to complete here at MIL's, since we are living here for free and I am not employed. I still, however, have the OCD need to finish my badges each week. I knew with the yard sale, two mid-terms, and a paper to write, I was going to have limited time to complete my badges, which come out every Wednesday. Long story short, I completed all the little beggars Wednesday night. Stayed up until 2 in the morning, glossy-eyed and determined to get them done before I went to bed.
Don't get me wrong. There are several of the games that I deem great for mental acuity. They require strategy, eye to hand coordination, powers of observation, and memory exercises. These are all good. But there is, inevitably, the mind-numbing, zero-ability, BORING ones as well. Yet I push myself to get the badge anyway.
Nothing, NOTHING is worse than the slot machine games. ACH! I am twitching just thinking about them. Click. Click. Click. Click. I have decided that Hell would be pricing yard sale items AND being forced to play slot machines.
It used to be you had the chance to win up to $4999 (if you were a member). They recently changed it to a much smaller amount, but they threw in a bunch more opportunities to win worthless crap like mugs and hats. Woooo hoooo!
Would you like to check out my obsession? Be forewarned, it is addictive. You don't have to become a member, you can play for free. The only difference is you are limited as to which games you can play, and you are subjected to ads.
I, of course, blame my obsession on ES. She is the one who got me hooked. When she told me about it, I scoffed, saying I didn't like video games, so I surely would not like POGO. Unfortunately, I have a secret competitive gene. My father and brothers are all fierce competitors. I would inevitable end up crying whenever I played even board games with them, because they are cut-throat and vicious when they do anything competitive. Heck, they can turn go-fish into a maniacal competition...I am not competitive with PEOPLE. I am competitive with myself--and those damn robots on POGO. I recently yelled at one, "DIE, YOU DAMN CHEATING BUCKET OF BOLTS!"
Yeah, I need help. If you would like to share in my addiction, here is the link to POGO. My POGO name is Deelovesbud. I am now officially a pusher, and POGO is the drug.
As you know, I am taking a full boatload of classes this semester, in addition to having "chores" to complete here at MIL's, since we are living here for free and I am not employed. I still, however, have the OCD need to finish my badges each week. I knew with the yard sale, two mid-terms, and a paper to write, I was going to have limited time to complete my badges, which come out every Wednesday. Long story short, I completed all the little beggars Wednesday night. Stayed up until 2 in the morning, glossy-eyed and determined to get them done before I went to bed.
Don't get me wrong. There are several of the games that I deem great for mental acuity. They require strategy, eye to hand coordination, powers of observation, and memory exercises. These are all good. But there is, inevitably, the mind-numbing, zero-ability, BORING ones as well. Yet I push myself to get the badge anyway.
Nothing, NOTHING is worse than the slot machine games. ACH! I am twitching just thinking about them. Click. Click. Click. Click. I have decided that Hell would be pricing yard sale items AND being forced to play slot machines.
It used to be you had the chance to win up to $4999 (if you were a member). They recently changed it to a much smaller amount, but they threw in a bunch more opportunities to win worthless crap like mugs and hats. Woooo hoooo!
Would you like to check out my obsession? Be forewarned, it is addictive. You don't have to become a member, you can play for free. The only difference is you are limited as to which games you can play, and you are subjected to ads.
I, of course, blame my obsession on ES. She is the one who got me hooked. When she told me about it, I scoffed, saying I didn't like video games, so I surely would not like POGO. Unfortunately, I have a secret competitive gene. My father and brothers are all fierce competitors. I would inevitable end up crying whenever I played even board games with them, because they are cut-throat and vicious when they do anything competitive. Heck, they can turn go-fish into a maniacal competition...I am not competitive with PEOPLE. I am competitive with myself--and those damn robots on POGO. I recently yelled at one, "DIE, YOU DAMN CHEATING BUCKET OF BOLTS!"
Yeah, I need help. If you would like to share in my addiction, here is the link to POGO. My POGO name is Deelovesbud. I am now officially a pusher, and POGO is the drug.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Yard Sale Hell
MIL had the great idea to do a yard sale this weekend. It has been in the 90's for a week, and the humidity is through the roof. PERFECT! My ultra pale, burns in minutes skin will LOVE being exposed for two days...
In preparation, she dragged out bags and boxes, or rather, my nephew and SIL dragged out bags and boxes, from the shed. Most had mouse turds or mouse pee, and they reeked. Special! We are putting more time in to cleaning the sh-- I mean treasures up than they are worth. Seriously, she has so many chotchkies it is ridiculous. Oh, for those who have never heard of a chotchkie, Urban Dictionary defines it as the following:
"A small piece of worthless crap, a decorative knick knack with little or no purpose. Side note: Chotchkie can be pretty, sentimental, or even occasionally useful though it usually breaks easily if useful. If you are having trouble identifying Chotchkie just look around your house or someone else's and whatever you see that a burglar wouldn't steal is probably Chotchkie.
Fake fruit, a ceramic frog containing candy, pretty much anything purchased at a dollar store, costume jewelry, etc."
Amen, Urban Dictionary. Amen. Worthless crap indeed. Heck, the mouse turds have more value than some of the sh-- I mean, treasures, she is trying to sell. We spent hours pricing all that crap, and the whole while I am thinking, "Put it all on the front lawn with a giant "FREE" sign and be done with it." Dang, can you tell this is getting on my last nerve?
Don't get me wrong. I do love my MIL. She just comes up with "great ideas" that translate into lots and lots of pointless work. She will sell a few things, I am sure. Like the motorcycle leather coat, pants, and chaps, and the motorcycle intercom system. The rest? She should have just rented a dumpster. I'm just sayin'...
I have a ton of homework to do, and I have been spending more time lugging, washing, labeling, and cussing than I care to admit. On a positive note, my hubby is taking one for the Gipper, as they say. He is going with MIL to Amish Acres tomorrow morning. Acres and acres of vendors, set up in an open field on a hot, humid day. She really wants to go, but Bud knew that I had all this homework to get done, so he is going with her and leaving me home in the peace and quiet. Oh, how I love that man!
If there is a Hell, and I end up there, I will probably be stuck labeling chotchkies...
In preparation, she dragged out bags and boxes, or rather, my nephew and SIL dragged out bags and boxes, from the shed. Most had mouse turds or mouse pee, and they reeked. Special! We are putting more time in to cleaning the sh-- I mean treasures up than they are worth. Seriously, she has so many chotchkies it is ridiculous. Oh, for those who have never heard of a chotchkie, Urban Dictionary defines it as the following:
"A small piece of worthless crap, a decorative knick knack with little or no purpose. Side note: Chotchkie can be pretty, sentimental, or even occasionally useful though it usually breaks easily if useful. If you are having trouble identifying Chotchkie just look around your house or someone else's and whatever you see that a burglar wouldn't steal is probably Chotchkie.
Fake fruit, a ceramic frog containing candy, pretty much anything purchased at a dollar store, costume jewelry, etc."
Amen, Urban Dictionary. Amen. Worthless crap indeed. Heck, the mouse turds have more value than some of the sh-- I mean, treasures, she is trying to sell. We spent hours pricing all that crap, and the whole while I am thinking, "Put it all on the front lawn with a giant "FREE" sign and be done with it." Dang, can you tell this is getting on my last nerve?
Don't get me wrong. I do love my MIL. She just comes up with "great ideas" that translate into lots and lots of pointless work. She will sell a few things, I am sure. Like the motorcycle leather coat, pants, and chaps, and the motorcycle intercom system. The rest? She should have just rented a dumpster. I'm just sayin'...
I have a ton of homework to do, and I have been spending more time lugging, washing, labeling, and cussing than I care to admit. On a positive note, my hubby is taking one for the Gipper, as they say. He is going with MIL to Amish Acres tomorrow morning. Acres and acres of vendors, set up in an open field on a hot, humid day. She really wants to go, but Bud knew that I had all this homework to get done, so he is going with her and leaving me home in the peace and quiet. Oh, how I love that man!
If there is a Hell, and I end up there, I will probably be stuck labeling chotchkies...
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Disclosure
As promised, I am disclosing my starting weight this time around. I was at the highest weight I have ever been in my life. I remember when I was pregnant for Joe, I got up to 170 pounds. I thought I was a moose! I would love to be 170 again. Here goes nothin'...262. Big, fat, 262. I hadn't been on a scale for 6 months, and I was dreading it. I stepped on the scales at the doctor's office, which are digital. No hiding it--262 pounds.
That was at the end of April. As of today, I am at 244. My goal is to lose 1.5 pounds a week. That's 6 pounds a month, and I have been staying pretty on track. I know it will take a long time to get it all off, but I know if I try to lose it too fast, I will put it right back on.
I had Bud take a picture of me so I could post it. As I said, each month, I will be posting a new picture. I can't really see the difference yet, but I can feel the difference. Clothes aren't as tight. I don't get as winded, and I don't feel as tired.
So, in three months, almost 20 pounds. It feels pretty good to say that. I think after the next 20, people will start to notice. Tracking on Livestrong was the best thing I ever started doing...
Right now, I am at 1699 calories per day. That is actually a lot of calories, but I am still losing. I input my weight each week, and Livestrong readjusts my calorie intake accordingly. I started at 2200 calories, and they slowly peeled it back to keep me on track over the weeks. I don't feel deprived. Some days, I don't use the full amount of calories, and I am satisfied. That is the biggest thing for me--I like food--A LOT. So if I feel like I am being deprived, it doesn't work for me. It tracks percentages of carbs, fats, proteins, salt, cholesterol, etc. I almost always go over in the sodium category, mostly from not eating fresh. Now that fresh fruits and veggies are plentiful, I have been doing much better in that department. I don't tend to salt food at the table unless it it REALLY bland. I am more of a pepper person. And I don't salt watermelon and cantaloupe like a lot of people do.
It will be another 7-8 months or so before I put the 200 lb mark behind me. THAT is when I will start feeling success! Thanks for following me on my journey.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Live, on the road, it's the Bud and Dee Tour!
We left Alabama at 7:15am this morning. Ghost, our dog, delayed us, as she decided to hide under the trailer. Bud crawled under the house, only to have her scoot herself even FURTHER under and toward the front. Bud finally decided to start the van and honk the horn--danged if she didn't come out! She was shaking all over, but we got her in the van.
Ms. C. gave us a show with big ole crocodile tears. The only reason she doesn't want us to go is because that means she will need to step up to the plate and take care of Mr. M. I give it until after the 4th before she tries to get him in the nursing home...
Hubby accidentally doubled up on his anti-anxiety meds, and nearly gave me a heart attack as I watched him in horror from my rearview mirror, swerving all over the road like someone who was two sheets to the wind. I got us off the highway asap and fed him, and he drank coffee. The next leg was much more controlled, much to my relief.
We are at the Econolodge in Lebanon, TN. Lebanon is where Bud and I took our one and only "real" vacation--and even that wasn't totally a vacation, as I had a job interview. That was almost 17 years ago--wow! We camped at the Cedars of Lebanon State Park, and it will always be the sweetest memory for me.
First thing I did after taking a shower was crack open a Chelada. Have you ever had one of these? They are a redneck version of a Bloody Mary, made with Bud Light, Clamato juice, lemon juice, and salt. I usually add Worcestershire sauce, hot sauce, and celery salt to kick it up a notch, but it is perfectly respectable on its own. Instant de-stress in a can....aaahhhhhh!
We had to pass through Hacklesburg, Alabama on our trek. The devastation from the April 27th, 2011 tornadoes is something I cannot even put into words. Trees snapped and twisted in two; tin, cars, and other debris can still be seen wrapped around trees like crepe paper; Houses flattened; the Wrangler plant reduced to a pile of twisted steel beams and rubble. FEMA trailers could be seen everywhere.
I can only say that the resilience of these people to start over, rebuild, and move past this horror was inspiring. I had a lump in my throat as we meandered through the carnage left by the EF 5 tornado.
I'm cracking open my second Chelada and flipping through the book to see who will deliver...hasta luego!
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Mother's Day
Today is Mother's Day. Did you know I am a mom? Most people don't. I don't talk much about my son. He is an "adult"--I use the term loosely. He has spent more time on the streets and living with nothing than most.
I was a single mom until Joe turned 5, and then his biological father (The Sperm Donor, BS) decided he was going to be a part of his life and started visitation. It wasn't court ordered; It was only every-other-weekend, and Joe seemed to enjoy himself and look forward to the visits. BS never asked for joint custody--until I started dating and subsequently marrying my hubby. Then all Hell broke loose.
It was miserable for all of us, and most of all, for Joe. We battled in court twice. The second time, I lost physical custody of Joe. You may ask, "How in the Hell did you lose custody of the child you raised?" It wasn't pretty, that is for sure. It was heartbreaking, and it was ugly. And it meant that my relationship with my son would forever be changed.
We aren't close. I used to worry about him constantly, feel guilty constantly. To this day, I am sure I am going to get a call that he has been killed or has killed himself. He is mentally ill, and does not take his medication regularly. It is either when he has to be admitted to stabilize himself, or when he has enough money to pay for his meds. Most times, he foregoes getting his meds and buys cigarettes instead.
We get infrequent calls, and he is never in the same place twice. He has had more "homes"--again, using a term lightly--than most people have in a lifetime. He always seeks approval, so desparate for love and positive attention.
He has made some aweful choices for himself in the past. He is so naive, so trusting of people. Inevitably, he gets his heart broken, or is taken advantage of and is left on the streets with no money. He is drawn to those like himself--he meets most of his so-called friends in treatment centers. That goes ditto for his girlfriends. Most of the women he meets are homeless, no source of income, and single mothers. I think every last one of the women he has been with have been older. I think in some ways, he is looking for a maternal figure, someone to take care of him. In his mind, it is he that is going to take care of them, however.
The relationships are short lived, and it always leaves Joe spiralling into a deep depression with suicidal thoughts. I know what must be going through his head: "I am not good enough for anyone. No one loves me. I am disposible."
He of course would feel that way. That is my dark secret: I gave my son away to the devil himself. I sacrificed motherhood in an attempt to keep the peace with everyone. I desparately wanted to keep my husband; I didn't want to keep fighting with BS; I was sick of court battles where I inevitably came out looking like an over-emotional basket case. Hell, even hubby said I was not fit to be a mom. So I got what I deserved. But Joe didn't deserve this. He really didn't.
We have rescued Joe twice. Once it was in Birmingham. He was in the hospital after cutting himself dozens of times. He had been living on the streets, and we hadn't heard from him in ages. We tried to help him, but he didn't want to follow rules. He was 19, and didn't want any responsibility.
The next time was after he got kicked out of his girlfriend's house. She took his money, and kicked him out. He stayed with us about a month that time. He really was doing a good job (for Joe), but my sisterwife couldn't stand him. She called him "a worthless excuse of a human being". That cut my heart to pieces. She despised him, and wanted him gone. For his own safety, both physical and mental, I let him go. That was the last time I saw him...4 years ago.
I know he wants to come home. He is weary and homesick. He hasn't seen family in about two years. I can't help him--we are technically homeless ourselves, save for living with the people we are taking care of.
So that is the ugly burden I carry. I am not much of a mom. I crave calls from Joe, but when he does, I can't stand talking to him. It is too painful. I deserve the pain. I deserve to have it crammed down my throat. But I avoid it. I am a coward.
Happy Mother's Day.
I was a single mom until Joe turned 5, and then his biological father (The Sperm Donor, BS) decided he was going to be a part of his life and started visitation. It wasn't court ordered; It was only every-other-weekend, and Joe seemed to enjoy himself and look forward to the visits. BS never asked for joint custody--until I started dating and subsequently marrying my hubby. Then all Hell broke loose.
It was miserable for all of us, and most of all, for Joe. We battled in court twice. The second time, I lost physical custody of Joe. You may ask, "How in the Hell did you lose custody of the child you raised?" It wasn't pretty, that is for sure. It was heartbreaking, and it was ugly. And it meant that my relationship with my son would forever be changed.
We aren't close. I used to worry about him constantly, feel guilty constantly. To this day, I am sure I am going to get a call that he has been killed or has killed himself. He is mentally ill, and does not take his medication regularly. It is either when he has to be admitted to stabilize himself, or when he has enough money to pay for his meds. Most times, he foregoes getting his meds and buys cigarettes instead.
We get infrequent calls, and he is never in the same place twice. He has had more "homes"--again, using a term lightly--than most people have in a lifetime. He always seeks approval, so desparate for love and positive attention.
He has made some aweful choices for himself in the past. He is so naive, so trusting of people. Inevitably, he gets his heart broken, or is taken advantage of and is left on the streets with no money. He is drawn to those like himself--he meets most of his so-called friends in treatment centers. That goes ditto for his girlfriends. Most of the women he meets are homeless, no source of income, and single mothers. I think every last one of the women he has been with have been older. I think in some ways, he is looking for a maternal figure, someone to take care of him. In his mind, it is he that is going to take care of them, however.
The relationships are short lived, and it always leaves Joe spiralling into a deep depression with suicidal thoughts. I know what must be going through his head: "I am not good enough for anyone. No one loves me. I am disposible."
He of course would feel that way. That is my dark secret: I gave my son away to the devil himself. I sacrificed motherhood in an attempt to keep the peace with everyone. I desparately wanted to keep my husband; I didn't want to keep fighting with BS; I was sick of court battles where I inevitably came out looking like an over-emotional basket case. Hell, even hubby said I was not fit to be a mom. So I got what I deserved. But Joe didn't deserve this. He really didn't.
We have rescued Joe twice. Once it was in Birmingham. He was in the hospital after cutting himself dozens of times. He had been living on the streets, and we hadn't heard from him in ages. We tried to help him, but he didn't want to follow rules. He was 19, and didn't want any responsibility.
The next time was after he got kicked out of his girlfriend's house. She took his money, and kicked him out. He stayed with us about a month that time. He really was doing a good job (for Joe), but my sisterwife couldn't stand him. She called him "a worthless excuse of a human being". That cut my heart to pieces. She despised him, and wanted him gone. For his own safety, both physical and mental, I let him go. That was the last time I saw him...4 years ago.
I know he wants to come home. He is weary and homesick. He hasn't seen family in about two years. I can't help him--we are technically homeless ourselves, save for living with the people we are taking care of.
So that is the ugly burden I carry. I am not much of a mom. I crave calls from Joe, but when he does, I can't stand talking to him. It is too painful. I deserve the pain. I deserve to have it crammed down my throat. But I avoid it. I am a coward.
Happy Mother's Day.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Full Moon
Last night was the full moon, and it was perported to be the largest full moon in 19 years. The full moon I saw last night was not.
I walked out of the kitchen yesterday to find Ms. C lathering butt balm on Mr. M's behind. His boney arse was sticking toward the heavens as she slathered it on, its whiteness only surpassed by that of the zinc oxide that covered it in a thick layer.
This poor man has lost every shred of dignity. We have seen every nook and cranny of this man; we have wiped his ass after he takes a dump, we have held his shriveled up pecker while he pees to assure he hits the urinal. We have bathed him, dressed him/undressed him 300 times; we have wiped food off his face that has drippled out the bad side of his mouth. We have cleaned him up and bandaged him after he has fallen and knocked half the skin off of his arm, knee, finger, head....
I feel horrible for him. He is only 61, but when you look at him, you see an old man. Even though he can out-eat us all due to his appetite-inducing pills, he is still a stick-figure.
The chemo turned his hair white--what is left of it. He has a little left, and a few indignant long, stray strands. He still brushes his hair before we go out--really no need, but we silently let him skim the brush over his mostly-bald head.
The stroke has left him limited. He has very little control over his left hand. We often must fish his hand out of gravy, peas, soup, and pancake syrup. Yesterday he gently murmured: "that gravy is hot."
We have watched him drink himself into a stupor. I will not begrudge the man. I would most likely drink myself into a stupor everyday if I had to bear the indignities he has to each morning. He is usually soaked to the bone. He prefers Bud strip him and the bed, get him dressed, get him decent and get him a hot cup of coffee. We do not belittle him for being so wet. Ms. C., on the other hand, delights, I think, in being disgusted with him. She has zero patience with him. Hubby and I fear that when we leave--and it will be soon--she will not be very nice to him.
Mr. M wants to be independent. He stubbornly drove his stick-shift truck, backing it into a junker car in the yard and busting out the headlight. He almost put it in the swamp/pond out front. Every time I turn around, the old/not really old fellow is tottering somewhere, fetching himself a drink, heading out to smoke, or getting an itch to fish.
Fishing was his "thing". Being retired, there really isn't a whole lot to do that doesn't cost a lot of money. Since the strokes and the cancer, Mr. M hasn't been able to do what he loves. Ms. C got a wild hair a few weeks ago because she was sick of seeing Mr. M just sitting there. She said it was nice out and we were going fishing. At first, Mr. M objected, but with her prodding, he agreed to it. What an ordeal that was! It took half the morning to get Mr. M around and loaded into the truck. It is only a little 2-seater, so Ms. C and I followed in her car.
The lake ended up only being accessible by 4-wheel trucks and deer, but Mr. M insisted we could make it up the deeply-rutted (read "canyon-ed") dirt road access. The only option was to throw Ms. C and I in the bed of the truck and go for it. The tailgate doesn't go up, so Ms. C, with her two bad legs, sat on the tailgate and held on to the walker in her lap. (Do you see impending disaster?)
I climbed well into the truck, as I didn't want to be a part of that impending disaster. When we were all loaded, Hubby asked if we were all loaded, and I said yes. He gunned it, and I watched Ms. C being launched out the back of the truck helplessly as I screamed for Bud to stop. There was no stopping, as the access road was over a 40 degree angle, and we had to Baja just to get up to the lake. I screamed to Ms. C that wI would send Bud back for her.
When we got to the lake at the top, it was only then that Bud found out that he had bounced Ms. C out of the back of the truck. He went back down the hill to get her--a good 1/2 mile that seemed a lot longer from the bed of the truck. She had managed to walk about 500 feet up the hillside with her walker. Can you picture it?
Bud got her loaded and brought her up the hill. It wasn't over yet. Mr. M pointed to the cabin and a bank around the opposite side of the lake. "That is where we want to be," he said matter-of-factly. It is here that I must note that neither Bud nor I swim. I am afraid of water of my head. This is a man-made lake. It doesn't gradually get deep; it instantly gets deep. There are signs posted all over "no swimming" and "very deep lake". Special.
Now comes the fun part. To get to the opposite side of the lake, there is a narrow isthmus of land separating the lake from a 300-foot drop-off. Lake of Death on one side; Valley of Death on the other. Perfect!
There is a gate on the other side, and we couldn't tell if it was open or closed. Mr. M said it didn't matter. If it was closed, we would just park at the end and fish, and and then back out. NO. FUCKING. WAY. I volunteered to go walk the 1/4 mile and visually affirm whether or not the gate was open. I kept my eyes on the road or the lake--I didn't want to see the drop on the other side, or I would have been immobilized.
After confirming the gate was open, Bud drove across. I could not watch, nor could I get in the truck. I was paralyzed with fear. Bud obviously made it across in one piece, and we got all the chairs, poles, beers, bait and tackle out of the truck. We moved Mr. M three times before he found a place he felt confident that he could sit and not fall in, yet get a good cast in.
Mr. M could cast just fine, but realized that without use of his left hand, he couldn't hold the pole and reel it in. he did his best by holding the pole between his knees, though. After one cast, he declared he was just going to watch. So, the rest of of grabbed poles and cast out. After 10 minutes, Mr. M says: "We have to go. I have to pee."
Yes, yes, I know, he could have peed right there. I believe it was his way of saying he wasn't having fun and therefore fishing day was over. It took more time to load and unload the truck than was actually spent fishing. It was a beautiful lake. I was actually enjoying myself, once the terror of getting there was behind us. Sigh.
Mike got a wild hair yesterday and wanted to run to town and get Bream hooks, sinkers and fish feed. Good Lord, save us all.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Aliens, revisited
As I said in an earlier post, I am convinced that I get frequent visits from aliens, and that they are having oh-so-much fun doing experiments on me. For the record, I am NOT having oh-so-much fun. I am a mostly sane person, but I am perfectly certain that those little fuckers are messing with me.
1) I sprouted two bumps on my head about 5 years ago, literally overnight. They are on top of my head, like sick little horns trying to grow. I think they are actually some kind of transmitter so the suckers can keep better track of everything I do.
2) I have three moles on my leg that form a perfect isosceles triangle. Each mole is the same size and color. They just appeared one day.
3) Bilateral "ow-ies"--I have had several instances that I will get a boo-boo on the same spot on each hand, or each arm, or each knee, etc, etc, etc. Thing is, I never remember doing anything to get the ouchies in the first place--they are just "there".
4) Crazy-ass, unexplainable dreams. I have these ALL. THE. TIME. Case in point: the recent dream that I will recount for you now...
I dreamed that my father, Bud, and a few other friends and I were going to pick up a very eccentric old lady friend of ours to take out to eat. She lived in a huge mansion with lots of turrets and skylights. She loved birds, and had many wild birds nesting in her home.
We rang the bell, and another friend answered the door. He told us that a stranger had burst in, and then ran out of the house running. Since the stranger had been there, the old woman had disappeared.
We hunted all over for her. While hunting, I noted that there was a next of baby birds up in the rafters that appeared to be orphans. My dad brought a ladder and helped me rescue the birds. While I was rescuing the birds, I heard a thump and turned to see that a huge section of pipe had fallen off of the antique wrought iron stove. We soon realized that the stranger had stuffed the poor old woman into the pipe. It was horrible.
It was at that point in my dream that the birds were now tomatoes, but in my dream, I did not take notice. My father told me to take very good care of them, as they were orphans. Evidently, in the world of my crazy ass dream, tomatoes are where people came from. At some point, all tomatoes morphed into babies. There had even been a documented case where one tomato did not morph until it was 21 years old!
For some reason, we still wanted to take the now dead and pipe-filling old lady with us out to eat, so my dad was having some of the men tie the pipe, with the little old lady still inside, to the side of our bus (our group was so big, we had to ride around in a bus). I, for reasons unknown, had cut open one of the tomatoes and was scooping out the slime and seeds as though I was going to stuff it. A piece fell off into the sink, and I thought, "uh oh, I wonder if the baby will be deformed?" (good grief, I thought about this AFTER I had sliced it wide open???)
I carefully pulled all the wedges back together into the semblance of a tomato, sans one wedge. I carried the tomatoes with me onto the bus.
When we got to our destination, one of my former bosses, BS, appeared, and offered a $1000 prize to the first person who could correctly guess what is the most common start and end time of a shift for the average employee based on a study by the (blah blah blah) personnel group. I had the correct times, but I didn't get the prize, because BS stated that I also had to note that each time correlated to a famous mountain/volcano, one being Vesuvius and the other I don't remember now. Anyhow, I didn't win...
It was then I realized that I had either lost one of the tomatoes, or it had morphed and I just didn't know it....
End of that particular dream.
Are you now thoroughly convinced that aliens are controlling my dreams and trying to drive me insane????
I sometimes dread going to sleep, afraid of what I will dream next. Damn aliens!
Friday, February 4, 2011
Seriously....
I soooooo want to just spend a day in bed. But as soon as 8am rolls around, I start feeling guilty, because I know I have two laid-up adults in the living room waiting for me to change bandages, drain drainage bottles, get their urine-soaked butts out of bed and onto a commode while I change them...pretty much my daily morning routine.
It is 9:30am, and they are both still asleep. I don't dare go back to bed, as they are sure to wake up if I do. Instead, I am sitting here in the frigid kitchen (only room with heat is the living room where Mr. Mike and Ms. Carol sleep) typing a brief update.
We had to drive Ms. Carol to Tuscaloosa during the worst of the freezing rain and sleet--fun times. Her wound just did not look good, so I called the visiting nurse to give it a look-see. The visiting nurse said it was infected; later, the doctor told us it was not. It ended up being a good thing after all, as we were supposed to have her to T-town by 8am this morning to have this procedure done. That meant we would have had to get up at 5am to have her fed and ready to go, and we would have been driving on ice covered roads in the dark. Instead, she had the procedure yesterday, and we were home before it was dark. Not that the roads were a joy, but it could have been worse.
It is still raining this morning, and because the surfaces are so cold and the temp is only 34 degrees, it is freezing as soon as it hits the ground. Due to this fact, the dogs will not go out to pee. Dixie, a feisty Lhasa Apso, took a dump in the kitchen rather than be subjected to the ice cold rain bullets. Can't blame her...
I am turning into a real southern bumpkin. I made jalapeno corn bread last night to go with a pot of chili, and I am making fried chicken livers for supper tonight. Who'd a thunk it? And these people are actually EATING it...go figure. They did pick out the jalapenos from the cornbread, stating it made it too hot. Wimps!
I am heading to Columbus once it warms up to put in a job application with Marriott Hotels International. They just built a Fairfeild Inn, and they are breaking ground for a Courtyard by Marriott. Wish me luck!
Crazy ass dreams last night. Involved petting an android cat until it had kittens, and competing in a dance off on a pre-teen kid's show. My brothers and I were like the Partridge Family or something (yes, I am an old fart who watched the Partridge Family).
Sigh. Carol is up, must get my hiney in caregiver mode.
It is 9:30am, and they are both still asleep. I don't dare go back to bed, as they are sure to wake up if I do. Instead, I am sitting here in the frigid kitchen (only room with heat is the living room where Mr. Mike and Ms. Carol sleep) typing a brief update.
We had to drive Ms. Carol to Tuscaloosa during the worst of the freezing rain and sleet--fun times. Her wound just did not look good, so I called the visiting nurse to give it a look-see. The visiting nurse said it was infected; later, the doctor told us it was not. It ended up being a good thing after all, as we were supposed to have her to T-town by 8am this morning to have this procedure done. That meant we would have had to get up at 5am to have her fed and ready to go, and we would have been driving on ice covered roads in the dark. Instead, she had the procedure yesterday, and we were home before it was dark. Not that the roads were a joy, but it could have been worse.
It is still raining this morning, and because the surfaces are so cold and the temp is only 34 degrees, it is freezing as soon as it hits the ground. Due to this fact, the dogs will not go out to pee. Dixie, a feisty Lhasa Apso, took a dump in the kitchen rather than be subjected to the ice cold rain bullets. Can't blame her...
I am turning into a real southern bumpkin. I made jalapeno corn bread last night to go with a pot of chili, and I am making fried chicken livers for supper tonight. Who'd a thunk it? And these people are actually EATING it...go figure. They did pick out the jalapenos from the cornbread, stating it made it too hot. Wimps!
I am heading to Columbus once it warms up to put in a job application with Marriott Hotels International. They just built a Fairfeild Inn, and they are breaking ground for a Courtyard by Marriott. Wish me luck!
Crazy ass dreams last night. Involved petting an android cat until it had kittens, and competing in a dance off on a pre-teen kid's show. My brothers and I were like the Partridge Family or something (yes, I am an old fart who watched the Partridge Family).
Sigh. Carol is up, must get my hiney in caregiver mode.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Sing with me....
To the tune of "D-I-V-O-R-C-E" by Tammy Wynette
I-M B-O-R-E-D
Stuck in this house everyday
Me and hubby B-U-D
Can't get a minute of peace
I want to help, Mike and Carol you see
But my sanity's slipping away
So for now, I guess my motto will be
I-M B-O-R-E-D
Okay, can you tell I am bored? I sooooooooooo want to sleep in until noon. Just once! But as soon as it is 8am, I know I have to get up or the whole day falls behind.
Getting Mike up for breakfast is a major ordeal. He generally is wet from head to toe, so he needs to be washed up, and his bedding changed. It is a process: from bed to commode, from commode to wheelchair, eat breakfast, then from wheelchair to recliner (if he doesn't have to go to the bathroom again. The poor man's bladder is unrealiable).
Carol is still in the hospital. I feel bad for her, but she needs to heal before she comes home. Too many germies here, and I really don't want her to get another infection. Unfortunately, that means long trips to Tuscaloosa, and that eats up the whole day (an hour there, and hour to eat, an hour or more with Carol, and an hour home).
This is taking a toll on my body and mind. Mike wants to watch the western channel, so the tv stays on the entire time he is up. I am not used to the TV being on 24-7. It is mind numbing. I try to do my reading for school, but I can't read or study with the tv on, and there is no where in this small house to go that you can drown it out. Don't know how I am going to get my paper done this weekend....
I know, poor me, poor me. I am just venting. I am thankful. And they truly need the help. I just want them both to get well so I can do an earnest job search and we can get our own place.
Until then, I will probably be bitchin' and moanin' about every little thing. Poor Bud has to listen to me whine about my back. I am sure he is getting more than sick of it. He had to listen to ES and all her aches and pains. Now he has to listen to me....I try not to complain too much, but I know he is getting tired of hearing it. I'M getting tired of hearing me moan and groan!
This is probably Karma kicking my ass. I got sick to death listening to ES complain about the doctors not giving her narcotics. I don't want narcotics. Unlike ES, I don't believe that doctors need to make us "pain free". The pain is part of life. It is part of the aging process. The body wears out. I just want to be at a level of pain where I can function.
I'll just pop some Goody's and get on the heating pad if it gets too bad. Pain becomes part of the routine.
Man, I sure can get off track with my ramblings! I need to go get myself mentally prepared for this day.
Toodles!
I-M B-O-R-E-D
Stuck in this house everyday
Me and hubby B-U-D
Can't get a minute of peace
I want to help, Mike and Carol you see
But my sanity's slipping away
So for now, I guess my motto will be
I-M B-O-R-E-D
Okay, can you tell I am bored? I sooooooooooo want to sleep in until noon. Just once! But as soon as it is 8am, I know I have to get up or the whole day falls behind.
Getting Mike up for breakfast is a major ordeal. He generally is wet from head to toe, so he needs to be washed up, and his bedding changed. It is a process: from bed to commode, from commode to wheelchair, eat breakfast, then from wheelchair to recliner (if he doesn't have to go to the bathroom again. The poor man's bladder is unrealiable).
Carol is still in the hospital. I feel bad for her, but she needs to heal before she comes home. Too many germies here, and I really don't want her to get another infection. Unfortunately, that means long trips to Tuscaloosa, and that eats up the whole day (an hour there, and hour to eat, an hour or more with Carol, and an hour home).
This is taking a toll on my body and mind. Mike wants to watch the western channel, so the tv stays on the entire time he is up. I am not used to the TV being on 24-7. It is mind numbing. I try to do my reading for school, but I can't read or study with the tv on, and there is no where in this small house to go that you can drown it out. Don't know how I am going to get my paper done this weekend....
I know, poor me, poor me. I am just venting. I am thankful. And they truly need the help. I just want them both to get well so I can do an earnest job search and we can get our own place.
Until then, I will probably be bitchin' and moanin' about every little thing. Poor Bud has to listen to me whine about my back. I am sure he is getting more than sick of it. He had to listen to ES and all her aches and pains. Now he has to listen to me....I try not to complain too much, but I know he is getting tired of hearing it. I'M getting tired of hearing me moan and groan!
This is probably Karma kicking my ass. I got sick to death listening to ES complain about the doctors not giving her narcotics. I don't want narcotics. Unlike ES, I don't believe that doctors need to make us "pain free". The pain is part of life. It is part of the aging process. The body wears out. I just want to be at a level of pain where I can function.
I'll just pop some Goody's and get on the heating pad if it gets too bad. Pain becomes part of the routine.
Man, I sure can get off track with my ramblings! I need to go get myself mentally prepared for this day.
Toodles!
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Stuck
I think that is how Bud is feeling right now. We are stuck in caregiver mode. I don't mean that to sound ungrateful. I am so thankful we have a roof over our heads. But the physical demands (not to mention the emotional ones) are starting to take their toll. Bud and I have both been having back issues, and I had a flair up tonight that almost had me begging Bud to take me to the ER.
I am afraid I am going to wake up one morning and not be able to get out of bed because any move will throw my back in to hellishly painful spasms. Bud has been on the heating pad a few times himself, and I am afraid he may end up flat on his back like the last time his back went out--that scares the b'jesuz out of me.
Bud was taking a nap today, and Mike needed to get on the crapper, so I got him on and Carol pulled his pants down for me. Carol can't lift, so I had to figure out how to wipe his behind without dropping him. I finally figured out how to do it, and got him back up. Carol was supposed to pull his drawers up, but she just could not get them up. I had to set him back down on the pot and rest my back, then try again. She got them up on the second try--well, kind of. I adjusted his pull up and jogging pants once I had him in bed.
The other part of feeling stuck is much more literal. We both need to get the hell out of the house without it being a trip to a doctor with either Mike or Carol, but we both worry about leaving Carol here alone with Mike for too long, as she can't really do much for him at this point other than put his pecker in the pisser--say that three times fast!
Bud is growing depressed and weary. I am just plum TIRED. I did manage to get all of my reading done for both classes, and got my assignments in on time. Phew!
The one plus has been getting to cook. I have really missed it! I made a quickie peach cobbler tonight (recipe to come), and tomorrow I am making lasagna...mmmmmmm!
I FINALLY managed to get my resume done using an online template service. Got it uploaded, but can't print it--Grrrrrrrrr!
At least it is warming up! :o)
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Merry Christmas
Trying to keep in mind the holiday and the spirit if the season, but it has been hard. Losing your job just before Christmas bites! I know I am not the only one, and I know there are people much worse off than we are. All this weeding has made me a bit glum.
Yesterday, I gave away the chicken and the hen that ES found at garage sales that decorated our kitchen in Alabama, along with a bowl of "first eggs"--the first little egg that a hen lays. My mom mentioned that by brother's girlfriend decorated with roosters, so I immediately packed them up and sent them with my mom to give to her.
Don't laugh, but there are memories tied in to that stupid plaster rooster. He sat in the window sill, along with the hen, in our kitchen window. Our rooster, Paul, would get on the Alabama hammock http://picasaweb.google.com/MoFarley/ALABAMAHAMMOCK# each night as he was rounding up the "girls" and have a fit because #1 there was another rooster to be reckoned with and #2 there was a hen who was not part of his little harem. It was the funniest thing you ever saw!
The rooster also was symbolic of ES. She told a story of seeing a native american shaman at a pow wow who told her she was a hen who was going to be a rooster. That pretty much summed up ES: she was a mother hen when it came to taking care of her family, but she was a hen who wanted to be the rooster. She had to be the boss, the one in charge, the one making all the decisions and telling others what to do. For me, that aspect of ES was disconcerting and a little intimidating. ES was always ES, but this is the one part of her personality that always rubbed me the wrong way.
I guess being normally a very passive person, it didn't bother me much--until she started bossing hubby around. That is when it bothered me. I guess it was because I naturally turned to hubby for guidance and direction. It was one thing for me to cow-tow, but quite another to see Bud doing it. I know it was a choice on his part--he chose to let her feel dominate and in charge of everything. And I did hear him say no to her on occasion, so he did draw the line. But not very often. That was very, very hard for someone as passive as me. It brought out a part of me that I never knew existed. Bud and ES both told me I was passive aggressive. Then it wasn't so passive and I started standing up for myself more and more. Or rather, standing up to ES.
I always felt like I was being bullied, and I just got tired of it. In retrospect, she was just very, very assertive, and it felt like bullying. I just know I didn't like it.
For anyone reading, I am sure that you are thinking that this is a blog for me to bitch about ES, which is pretty low, considering the woman is deceased. I think I need to do this as a catharsis--so I can get beyond my anger and remember all the good about ES. And there were a lot of great memories. They are buried in all the bullshit right now. You will hear about them. Or you can read more on the blog ES and I did together: http://bamagalskitchen.blogspot.com/
Yesterday, I gave away the chicken and the hen that ES found at garage sales that decorated our kitchen in Alabama, along with a bowl of "first eggs"--the first little egg that a hen lays. My mom mentioned that by brother's girlfriend decorated with roosters, so I immediately packed them up and sent them with my mom to give to her.
Don't laugh, but there are memories tied in to that stupid plaster rooster. He sat in the window sill, along with the hen, in our kitchen window. Our rooster, Paul, would get on the Alabama hammock http://picasaweb.google.com/MoFarley/ALABAMAHAMMOCK# each night as he was rounding up the "girls" and have a fit because #1 there was another rooster to be reckoned with and #2 there was a hen who was not part of his little harem. It was the funniest thing you ever saw!
The rooster also was symbolic of ES. She told a story of seeing a native american shaman at a pow wow who told her she was a hen who was going to be a rooster. That pretty much summed up ES: she was a mother hen when it came to taking care of her family, but she was a hen who wanted to be the rooster. She had to be the boss, the one in charge, the one making all the decisions and telling others what to do. For me, that aspect of ES was disconcerting and a little intimidating. ES was always ES, but this is the one part of her personality that always rubbed me the wrong way.
I guess being normally a very passive person, it didn't bother me much--until she started bossing hubby around. That is when it bothered me. I guess it was because I naturally turned to hubby for guidance and direction. It was one thing for me to cow-tow, but quite another to see Bud doing it. I know it was a choice on his part--he chose to let her feel dominate and in charge of everything. And I did hear him say no to her on occasion, so he did draw the line. But not very often. That was very, very hard for someone as passive as me. It brought out a part of me that I never knew existed. Bud and ES both told me I was passive aggressive. Then it wasn't so passive and I started standing up for myself more and more. Or rather, standing up to ES.
I always felt like I was being bullied, and I just got tired of it. In retrospect, she was just very, very assertive, and it felt like bullying. I just know I didn't like it.
For anyone reading, I am sure that you are thinking that this is a blog for me to bitch about ES, which is pretty low, considering the woman is deceased. I think I need to do this as a catharsis--so I can get beyond my anger and remember all the good about ES. And there were a lot of great memories. They are buried in all the bullshit right now. You will hear about them. Or you can read more on the blog ES and I did together: http://bamagalskitchen.blogspot.com/
Plus, it is cheaper than therapy, and since my insurance runs out on the 30th, I will need all the cheap therapy I can get!
Wow--it is amazing how I can get off on wild tangents like that. We are heading to MILs for x-mas. My mom stopped by last night with a card and $50. She is worried about us. I also had one of my former employees call to wish me Merry Christmas and to bawl about how much she missed me. sigh.
I will be glad when the holiday is over. Just too depressing this year.
I hope anyone reading this has a joyous holiday surrounded by the love of friends and family.
~D
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
My Elusive Degree and Other Ramblings
I was a college drop-out. I was an unwed mother, and I needed to work to support my child. 29 years later, I decided to go back to school. Things sure have changed!
Let's see, in 1985, we were using Commodore 64 computers with 5" floppy disks. Does anyone out there remember those oldie but goodies? And internet--what internet? Didn't exist. We did research the old-fashioned way: in the library.
Now, I am taking all my classes online in a distance learning program. Try doing that when you are working 70+ hours a week! At times, I have felt like my head was going to explode. I have managed to keep a 3.5 average. I even made the Dean's list at some point!
I still have a year to go. When you are only taking 4 classes a semester, it is slow going. And it didn't help that I changed majors, and that a lot of my credits didn't transfer. but I WILL get it done, one way or another. It is almost an obsession with me (not unlike POGO, but that is for another post). Not that having that degree is going to make a difference in my job hunt. Not really. With the economy the way it is, there are lots and lots of degreed individuals competing for jobs for which they are over-qualified. No, it is just about completion for me. I like having things done, and this has been something I left undone for a long, long time.
At times, I feared hubby would divorce me over my schooling. I would come home from work and immediately put my nose in a book, staying up late to get homework done. I will just be glad to have it done. I am learning a lot, though, so that is a plus...
When ES was still around, I think she was a little jealous of me being in school, or maybe even a little bit threatened. She was the know-it-all, and by god, you sure didn't argue with her, because she was always right! That didn't make going to school any easier. It wasn't about them, though. It was something I needed to do for me. Selfish as it may be, I have to do this.
I remember her throwing it in my face during one heated argument. She basically told me that I was an educated snob. That really hurt, especially since she had bent over backwards to make sure her kids went to college, because she knew how important an education is.
Don't get me wrong. I really did love ES, once upon a time. I loved her so much, her words would just devastate me. The ES years were so turbulent. We were just too different, and I was not strong enough to stand my ground with her. She was a very dominant personality. When she got sick, she changed. In the end, she had let the illnesses win. She just gave up, and it was unbearable to witness. She would go days without bathing, and she would hole up in her room, barely speaking to anyone. I am ashamed to say it now, but I was glad when she made the choice to leave. She had withdrawn so much from the family, she was hardly recognizable, and refused any help. And it sure didn't help that she blamed me for everything...
A little education goes a long way. The Lyme's disease would never have been diagnosed if ES hadn't gone online to figure out what and the heck was wrong with her. Unfortunately, it was too little too late; she was already stage IV when the official diagnosis was made. She was diagnosed with diabetes and PAD shortly after that. Within 6 months, she lost her leg.
I just found out that I am borderline diabetes. Not a surprise, as I am obese. I am not, however, going to go down the same path as ES. For one thing, I am a non-smoker (except for the second hand smoke I breath daily). I am not going to eat myself into the grave. I am not going to lay in bed or on the couch for hours at a time, no matter how much my arthritis may be hurting. I am not going to blame other people or doctors or the tobacco companies or the fast food industry for my current state. I am blaming me. I am not making excuses or pointing fingers. A little education goes a long way...
I harbor a lot of anger and resentment, and that is not healthy. I need to let that crap go before it eats at me as well. ES is gone. I will never be able to tell her how she made me feel. But that was my choice. Her last words to me were: " You know I would really like to know what the I did to cause you so much pain?" I never answered her. It would have been far too painful for me to rehash everything, and I had become so used to her belittling my feelings, I didn't think it was worth the pain. Now I wish I would have, if for no other reason that to get it out instead of internalizing it.
I never wished her any ill will. I certainly did not wish her the pain and suffering she went through, both physical and emotional. I am stymied by my reaction to her death. I feel......nothing. And that really bothers me. No pain, sorrow, remorse, regret. Just, nothing. I thought maybe it was because I was in shock. But I am not really shocked or surprised. What does that say about me as a person? Have I lost the capacity to give a damn? Am I evil?
I am certain that she hated me to the core. I am also sure her family hates me as well. Just as well. If I can't even find any feelings in me at all for her, that says a lot. How can you feel indifference for someone you loved and cared about? I should feel SOMETHING, for cryin' out loud.
Maybe I need some couch-time with a psychobabbler....
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