Plan B

They say a rolling stone gathers no moss; with as much as Bud and I move, we are truly mossless. My step-mama, as I said in a comment on the last post, is facing back surgery. I am heading down to help her and my dad during her recovery.  I am also going to be looking for employment, and bringing Bud and the dogs down as soon as feasibly possible.

I sooooooo want him to come down with me now. Even short separations are hard on us--always have been.  The longest stretch we have ever been away from each other is three weeks, and let me tell you, it was a LONG. THREE. WEEKS. This separation may be for months. I am trying to focus on the end goal, which is getting out of Michigan and back to warmer climes.  Florida is not at the top of my list. We were hoping to move to Kentucky at some point. Sigh.

At least this time around, we will need no more than a 10 foot truck. We have sold off most of our possessions to keep us going this last two years. Hell, I may look for a full-time AND a part-time job--if I lose one, I still have a job, you know what I mean?

Bud will be back at his mom's for a spell. Please send any positive energy you can spare (and I know we all could use positive energy right now). His mom's health is going downhill again. She passed out twice in dialysis this week, once on Monday and again yesterday. We are worried about her.

Bud has a double wammy. It is really, really hard for him to live with his mom. She is very critical, cynical, and negative about everything. On top of that, dear old brother C is coming back from Malaysia. Not sure how long he is going to be in the States, but he is a real piece of work. He treats his mom like a piece of shit, but she still worships him and thinks he can do no wrong. Makes me sick. She dotes over him incessantly, telling everyone what a wonderful son he is, yet it seems Bud can't do a damn thing right in her eyes. She seems to forget that if Bud hadn't insisted she go to the ER last year about this time, she would be dead. She was having a heart attack, but she didn't know it. She was just going to sit at the kitchen table and "ride it out". She ended up having triple bypass.

We have weighed the pros and cons. There are a lot of cons, for sure. Bud has to get a new doctor--AGAIN. For whatever reason, up here, once you leave a doctor, they don't let you come back. They want patients that will stay with them from cradle to grave, and if you dare move and drop them as a provider, they won't take you back. So he has that BS to deal with.

One of his medications is an injectible. I usually give it to him, but there is no one to do it for him, so he will having to find someone to do it, or end up going to the doctor every two weeks to have it done, which is a major pain in the butt for him, literally. 

He will have no car. I am driving down to Florida--all 1260 miles. His mom is very stingy when it comes to driving her car. She has full coverage, but is worried that if she lets someone else drive, they might get in an accident and her insurance will go up.  Forget that I drove her everywhere for 5 months. Forget that she is the scariest driver on the planet. We are hoping our nephew will let Bud use his car, since he has a truck as well and really doesn't drive his car much.

And as I mentioned before, the separation is a huge con.  It will be hard on both of us, that is for sure. The sooner I can get a job and start saving for our own place, the better.

Florida DMV prices are ridiculous. I was going to just get a Florida driver's license, but to renew my Michigan one costs $18; to get one in Florida will be $48. I will be keeping my Michigan license, thank you very much! And getting a car tagged and registered in Florida is just as bad. I won't do any of that until after we have a permanent place of residence, and by Florida law, residency is 6 months. At least I have a little window of time there.

I know I am sounding negative, but there are a lot of Pros:

Our son lives in Florida. It will be nice to have him closer. He is in the Panhandle right now, but I am hoping he will move South once we get settled. I sure miss him!

No long winters. Bud and I both suffer from seasonal depression, and sunny Florida will be the cure for that. No shoveling snow, no scraping car windshields in the blustery cold.

Job opportunities are much more abundant down in Florida. I won't have as many younguns to compete with down there, as seniors outnumber the rest of the population 3-1 in central Florida.

Fresh start. I want to put the BS of the last three years behind us. Since we moved back to Michigan in 2009 (with that 6 month stint back in Alabama to care for friends), we have been miserable. I want to get past this and move on. Like I said, Florida wouldn't have been our first choice, but it is in the right direction--SOUTH!

Haven't told K or B yet. That should be a fun conversation...

So that is our Plan B. As soon as I hear back from my Dad, I will have a better idea when I will be heading down. I am thinking sooner than later.

Rollin'......

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!

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.

Where did all this sh*t come from????

We have weeded through no less than a dozen boxes, and pitched most of it. Garbage was emptied yesterday, but we managed to fill the sucker back up today. I feel like we haven't made a dent!

We have given away volumes of furnishings, but we still have so much "stuff". Honestly--I found a box of paystubs and receipts from 1995. We lugged that from Michigan to Alabama and back again. Well, no more. In the garbage it went.

In the last few days of panic before we move--AAAAAUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

Hubby's in bed sleeping, but I can't sleep. Neighbors are feeling the need to blast boom-boom music. Evidently there is no such thing as too much bass....

Gotta win the friggin' lotto.....

The Unemployment Office

The Unemployment System, in my estimations, was designed to cause normal, law-abiding citizens to either kill themselves or kill someone else. Either way, it is one less person to have to pay benefits to....

I have been trying to get registered for unemployment without success. I can't do it online, as I worked in another state within the last 18 months. Every time I call the automated system, I am told that the system is unavailable (only after entering a shit-load of info that of course is not saved).

I called at my allotted time this morning, only to hear that all lines were busy, good-bye. Of course, I had to listen to a two minute pre-recorded schpeel about extended benefits. Can't get the benefits if I can't get registered! THAT is their evil plan. Make it impossible to get registered in the first place, or as I stated above, make the average man snap from frustration.

I have never filed for unemployment before, so this is all new to me. I know back in the day, you had to go down to the unemployment office. Now they want to make sure you have as little human contact as possible--either go to the website or call the automated system.

This just throws my whole day off. I have a to do list, for cryin' out loud!

We also have to wash and clean out the car to return it. No money means no car payment, so sayonara car. We have to take the van to the Secretary of State to get the title and plates transferred. That is always a fun time...

And I can't procrastinate any longer. I have got to get my ass in gear and start bringing stuff up from the basement that is going in to storage and get the office boxed up. sigh. Fun times!

The Morning After

Talk about getting nothing accomplished! Our dog, Ghost, was sick as a (forgive me) dog last night, puking and projectile shitting all night. Neither one of us got much sleep.

Bud did manage to go through several boxes of junk in the basement today in an attempt to weed out. I didn't do diddly but seal up a box of clothes.

My goal was to go through all the crap in the office and consolidate it to one small box. Not going to be a small undertaking. And not going to happen tonight. I have ZERO ambition.

We ended up taking a 4 hour nap, and I am still feeling lethargic. I had a weird-ass dream. Bare with me:

Bud blind-folded me, then inserted something phallic-like in me. He then asked me what color it was, and I guessed red. I then hear him talking to another person: "As I suspected, the female of the species has innate intuitive powers...." I realized that hubby was an alien and that he was doing experiments on me!

The dream isn't that out there, considering that I am certain that aliens regularly have performed experiments on me throughout my life....seriously! You may think I am a nut-job, but I cannot explain the weird stuff that has happened over the years. It seems the more logical explanation. I will share more on this in another post.

Sooooo, I blog to get this shit out. Lucky you! I am off to watch King of the Hill episodes on http://www.yidio.com/ because that is at the top of the importance list:

• watch King of the Hill


• weed through possessions until we are down to what will fit in a van


• find a job


• find a place to live


• have a major psychotic episode when I realize the magnitude of what we are about to undertake

Yep, I am right on track!

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/

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

13th Time is a Charm

Head pounding, stomach churning
Taste of bile in my mouth (not that I have a gull bladder, mind you)

Boxes to fill, memories to sell
Out the door it goes once more

Starting over, over again
Getting to be a tiring habit of ours

Can't put down roots anywhere
But we are of resilient stock it seems

Can we reduce our lives to just a few boxes?
We will soon see

Where will we land this time?
Hard to tell...oh. hell.

©Debra Weiser 2010

And now it begins...

With my job officially behind me, I now face the daunting task of weeding out what we have accumulated. We have moved three times in 15 months, and each time, we have weeded out. Weeds--that is what I call all of the crap we somehow accumulate. They aren't necessities, they are just the things that make life easier. Like plastic storage containers with matching lids. Call me a prude, but I got sick of using empty margarine and empty cottage cheese containers. You can't see what is in them, for cryin' out loud!

Clothes are also weeds. I had a closet full of work suits--an excessive amount. I had 15 suits. Who needs 15 suits!?!? I am saving out two interview suits, and I gave the rest away. I was going to have hubby put them on E-Bay, as most came from there in the first place. But one of my sisterwives is about my size, and she wanted them for church, so I gave them to her. I purged, and it felt good to give them to K. I am having my other sisterwife over today to look at blouses. She has commented on several I have worn over the year, so I am letting her take what she wants. (for those who are counting, that is 3 sisterwives--2 living and one deceased).

I have so much stuff! There are some things, however, that have just too much sentimental value to me, like pictures and my grandmother's china. They have been in plastic totes for the last 10 years, as we haven't had anywhere for me to display them. This time around, I am going to see if my brother R will store them for me. I can't get rid of them, but I can't bare to put them in storage again...

Hubby and I have started from scratch so many times now--it gets harder with age, though, let me tell you. I just want to be SETTLED. I'm a mother hen, for cryin' out loud. Nesting is what I do. I think of how the chickens used to react when we took their eggs, running around and squawking. I can so relate...

Squawk!

Off to down-size my life....