Wednesday, April 23, 2014


I get very frustrated when tragedy strikes and then people are all "Oh, that's so terrible, do you have any more details?"  It's vulturistic. 

Some want the details for gossip.  I don't think I''ve shared this.  Ron was in the accident on January 7.  His family made no effort to contact me.  Someone else notified me and brought me to the hospital.  Ron's family didn't care about my lack of transportation, so a little over a day later, I had to take 2 buses to get home, riding for hours. 

I was doing alright until I encountered a plant employee at the bus stop (my home bus also served the plant).  I ended up on a bench next to a part timer. 

She wanted all the details, which I shared.  Then she told me "everyone says it is all your fault".  I couldn't believe it.  Why would you ever think that was an appropriate statement?  I didn't even know if he'd live.  You can bet she went back to work with her harvest of details, talking about my reaction, etc... horrible. 

While I am prone to gossip, I will never be that person. 

When I hear of a tragedy I don't want detials.  I want to pray for the victims. 

That, to me, is what Jesus would want me to do. 

For the record, Ron's accident is the fault of the distracted driver who ran over him. 

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Bringing Daddy home

Our friend who works for the other vendor busted his butt for us today.  He went above and beyond to make sure we got a key for the stockroom. 

I can't share all the details, but he took about an hour out of his day, on his day off.  That's a good friend. 

We got up early and went to the warehouse.  We got some drinks (they didn't have Sprite, which we need!), and some snack items.  We went to work. 

I found out I couldn't get in the stockroom so I had to borrow the other guys' cart, which doesn't go out the door.  You can imagine the fun I had lugging all the stuff up the wheelchair ramp and putting it in the cart. 

Then Ron told me, "I need to go to the bathroom RIGHT NOW."  I left the cart in the hall and got Ron to the bathroom.  When I came back someone was about to push it somewhere; I took it over and got my stuff put up, then came back for Ron. 

We had a turnaround trip to go to the warehouse, so we did that, got some more snack items, and came back.  I stocked.  Ron stocked what he could (a lot of the shelves and such are at a lower level and very workable for Ron).  I did what he couldn't. 

I added some new things, Jalapeno Kettle chips (I have a hot and spicy customer base), Detour bars (very good!), Famous Amos cookies, etc. 

"I feel OK having tomorrow off" I told Ron "Because they look good - all the machines look good".  They do. 

We got our stockroom key and I put my leftovers on my shelving.  Wow.  It's been a while since I could do that..  We really need to bring the second wheelchair home, though.  It causes problems. 

I interacted with some of the younger customers.  I'm glad they feel like they can ask me questions, make suggestions, get change, etc.  I want them to feel know I am available - that I'm there to serve them, not myself. 

Ron teases me, but I am passionate about customer service.  I want to serve them and provide them with a fantastic range of products and prices.  I want everyone to walk away delighted. 

The job has downsides, a lot of physical labor, brutal hours, disgusting cleanup (coffee machine, and microwaves), and some people who just aren't happy, no matter what I do.  But, overall, I think we and our business are well liked. 

I'm glad I don't work for the CPA in "richytown".  I had a lovely burgundy leather chair (probably cost $1000), and a cherrywood desk, in Bellaire.  That's probably the premium zip code in Houston.  But you know what?  I hated it. 

I can't talk about my job due to fidicuary rules - I have a committment to keep secrets, basically, but I found it tedious work.  I didn't go home feeling like I'd done a good day's work.  I worked pretty hard at that, but I didn't enjoy it or find it satisfying. 

Same with the other office jobs, generally speaking it felt more like pointless busywork and paper-pushing.  Some of my bosses were petty tyrants. 

Ron has always been appreciative of my work ethic.  Even at his worst he'd have told you I was a hard worker. 

I am, and Ron gives me a lot of leeway.  I enjoy it.  I enjoy watching someone pull money out of their pocket and buy a selection.  I like watching them walk away, eating it.  Even better, I love to watch them walk over to another machine and make another purchase! 

I always, always, thank them if I "catch" someone making a purchase.  I mean it.  Without them, I'm in the gutter.  They don't have to give me their money; but they do. 

Thank you! 

I wanted to do something nice for the man who had done so much for us, on his day off to boot.  So I took his dumpster out to the garbage compactor.  It's about half a mile one way.  He's more of an "Acts of Service" love language.  I left a voicemail on his home phone "I took out your garbage!  Or someone stole it!  You decide!  Thanks again for your help!" 

We rode with 2 drivers, training new drivers.  I found that interesting.  Ron's wheelchair got secured properly and that's what mattered.  I was so happy to get home. 

Ron's cat met me and laid down on her back, showing a beautiful spotted tummy.  I gave her a good tummy rub for a few minutes as she purred and rolled around, thanking me for bringing Daddy home. 

Then I took Ron in the front door.  If he's going to stay in this chair we need to get a ramp.  That's a big bump! 

Monday, April 21, 2014

Sleep well

I knew it would be an interesting day when I found myself sitting outside our locked stockroom, watching a postal worker pick the lock because no one had a key.  We had an inbound delivery, 2 pallets total split between 2 vendors. 

We got up very early, 2:30 AM for me.  I took my shower and did my God Time.  Sure glad I did because I'm exhausted.  I don't have much to give. 

I do try to give God "my best" so for me, it's first thing in the morning. 

We got to work (a good ride).  "You gave me Nutter Butters" the driver told me.  "The last time you rode with me!"  I'm glad to do it, when I can. 

We coudn't get into the stockroom.  A man with a very large key ring tried to let us in, to no avail.  Of course they installed the door lock without giving a key to the vendors or maintanance.  I rummaged around under my snack machines and stocked what I could (I'm keeping my surplus inventory there).  I cleaned the microwaves, which weren't that bad.   Ron read a talking book by Julie Garwood. 

Ron and I took the money out of the vending machines and did inventory.  About this time the guy showed up with the pick.  I found it a little disturbing.  He'd obviously had a lot of practice, but you can't find a jollier guy at work.  He got it open.  Thank God. 

Ron had arranged a 9 AM pickup.  Dr Pepper didn't show until almost 10.  The guy didn't have the good truck with the roll up door in the back.  He had the truck with multiple roll up doors on the side, which meant he had to offload each case (we had 34) onto a handcart or pallet, then roll it up a ramp, through the building, and to our stockroom.  You can bet we're calling in a compliment. 

I put up the drinks, and stocked quite a bit with Ron.  Then we left and went to the warehouse.  We had really good pickups from work today, thank God.  Everyone seemed to find us easily. 

We got some bottled drinks (almost out, and Dr Pepper doesn't sell these) and a combo Hershey candy pack.  I was out of Hersheys.  We came back to work, stocked the candy and more soda, put the bottled drinks in the fridge (we're working tomorrow), and chatted with the second in command.  He likes to call us by our last name, collectively.  He's not the only one, interestingly enough. 

Anyway, the whole day ran 12 hours from pickup to dropoff.  I am beat.  Even my butt hurts.  But we did it. 

I guess I was too busy to be depressed.  I'm cooking some fish sticks right now, and mac and cheese.  Ron's "watching" the news. 

I bet I sleep well tonight. 

Allegedly, we'll have a stockroom key tomorrow. 

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Happy Easter

I am committed to "being real" here in my blog. 

So, instead of an upbeat Easter blog, you will find the truth. 

I was horribly depressed for most of the day.  "I wonder how many people at church" Ron mumbled "Understand it's a 5 hour round trip for us."  Good question. 

I took my tablet and tried to figure it out, but it wouldn't download - some error message.  I couldn't figure it out.  I could at least look around the Google Play store.  It took about a month to get to that point, let me tell you. 

Church was fine, except for one thing.  Ron had gotten out of the wheelchair, hunched over like a troll, and faced the car (a Chrysler 300) I was folding up the chair and putting it into the trunk.  Ron complained it was "very hard" to open the car door and requested I do it next time. 

Have you ever thought about being married to someone who can't even open a car door?  That alone could have triggered the depression. 

The service was fine, some people came over and hugged us, and only a few people stared at the wheelchair.  Ron had the idea to sit in the front row, at the end, so he wouldn't block the aisle.  Good idea, but I felt very exposed.  For some reason I tend to get dizzy in, and after, church.  I like to hold onto the seat in front of us, but the man in the wheelchair can't block the aisle.  God forbid, what if they had an emergency? 

We had good rides to and from church.  We got home, it's nice and quiet, but I'm depressed. 

I hate getting hijacked by neurotransmitters.  I ate and took my meds, all I can do, and decided not to nap.  We have to get up very early tomorrow, if I take a nap it inhibits my ability to sleep, later. 

Don't get me wrong.  I'm very glad I have Jesus in my life.  I'm glad He died for me.  I'm glad He lives in me.  If not, I'd have ended myself decades ago. 

I just want to get out of this malfunctioning brain for good.  When, of course, He decrees it. 

Saturday, April 19, 2014

I ought to be

I found it very sad. 

Today we got up.  I did my shower and went to the warehouse with Ron.  I needed things like trail mix and moon pies.  We got those, and I also got the Devil's Food Zingers. 

Dolly Madison pastries laid us off - fired us as a customer, because our orders were "too small".  Last I heard $200 a month is still $200 a month.  It sent us in other directions for pastry product.   A couple months later they filed bankruptcy. 

Basically everyone in Texas does a honeybun, cinnamon roll, and cheese danish.  It's just a matter of picking a quality product with a good food cost.  I also started stocking the Bimbo Conchas, which are very popular.  They're a less-sweet Mexican pastry.  I have a lot of Latinos. 

In fact, when my repairman came out I offered him anything from any machine.  He wanted a Concha.  Good stuff! 

However, we haven't featured the Zingers in a couple years now.  I hope my customers will be happy to see them.  It's the same product, with the nice stripe of icing, dark chocolate cake, and creamy filling.  Oh, I used to love those things.  Praise God they give me migraines now. 

On our way to work we had to ride with a narcissist client.  She kept primping in the mirror, applying strongly scented lotion, and engaging in loud speakerphone conversation.  I find that very annoying.  It's bad enough to hear one side, both sides is worse.  And it's always so dull. 

Ron and I were literally choking on perfume fumes.  I don't know if she had lotion and perfume, or just lotion, but it was toxic.  When I got out I reeked like a cheap hooker. 

I can only figure she was sitting in the backseat and applied lotion, which rubbed off on the seatbelt.  When she got a chance, she moved up front to the "good seat".   When I fastened the seatbelt the fragrance rubbed off on my shirt and hoodie.  It was so bad I seriously considered stripping down to my bra. 

At work. 

When they finish the stockroom, I plan to bring an extra-t-shirt and some large ziptop bags.  I'm sure this will happen again - it's happened twice this year. 

Ron and I plan to call "the boss" and ask him to add a message to the hold que, basically saying "Please do not apply perfume, scented products, or lotion in the vehicle.  It may make other customers ill."  They have other messages already - no ticket, no ride.  If you're not out there in 5 minutes you lose your ride... "don't be a skunk" would fit right in. 

It was just a very selfish act.  She was so focused on her external presentation, but every other word out of her mouth was "I" and "Me".  Not pretty. 

As you can see, I can't abide drama-queen narcissists.  God will work with me on that. 

The way I see it, if I'm clean and appropriate I'm ready to go.  Ponytailed hair, t-shirt, capris, slip on steel toed loafers.  My summer getup.  I might add a hoodie on a cooler day.  I'm ready to go. 

I don't get people who spent hours in preparation, spending a lot of money on cosmetics, skin, and haircare - then they go out and scowl at everyone.  I think someone with a loving spirit is far more attractive. 

Anyway, we got to work.  They still don't have a lock for our stockroom door.  I wonder if we will ever get one.  I'm waiting on certain purchases "Until we get a lock" - like a very large box of Jalapeno chips.  Clearly I don't want to leave it in an open stockroom, especially since it is a very popular selection.  I'd also like to get more bottled soda instead of running to the store every few days. 

They were painting the door, though.  It's a process. 

I stocked what I had.  As I stocked, two "casuals" approached the machines and bought merchandise.  I thanked them both.  They were shocked. 

A casual is a temporary, part-time worker.  They make $9 an hour. 

One, the man, actually asked me why I thanked him.  "My husband and I are both disabled" I told him.  "Without you I'm unemployed."  He nodded and walked off with his snack. 

Why is it so unusual for a vendor to thank a customer?   I'm making a living off the purchases.  I OUGHT to be full of gratitude! 

Friday, April 18, 2014

Black tomatoes

We had a pretty busy day today. 

We got up early and went to Academy.  Now, if I were at my ideal weight, with $1000 gift card, I could do some serious damage.  I love their clothing.  I caught myself slowing as I passed all the pretty colors. 

I kept going, I doubt they have 2XL anyway. 

I only had enough for a pair of slip ons, anyway.  I got these 2 years ago.  They're still in good shape. 

Mesa slip on steel toe

Great shoes.  At first I worried they wouldn't "work" with my usual outfits, but I've even worn them to church.  They're great.  They have lost a little support, though, so I got the new ones.  The old ones are good enough to donate, which I plan to do. 

I'd like to waterproof them, though.  That's about all I need to do.  I don't want to have a million old pairs of shoes.  That's hoardy.  I try to avoid obvious hoarderisms. 

I have two cats, for example.  Both fixed.  I try to rehome things I don't need.  If I can't, I throw them out.  I'd rather throw out something that "might have had some value" than have a big pile of crap in my house. 

As it is, I have to fix things up as much as possible before the big parental visit in about a week.  Happily, they do understand we've been working double overtime. 

After Academy, we went to the bank.  We were done in 20 minutes.  However, Ron "fixed" the trip, which meant we ended up waiting 2 hours instead of one.  It had a happy ending, we did get to Walmart. 

Dude, I am staying home this weekend.  No retail at all.  Walmart was pretty insane.  I got some stuff for work.  It came to $6.66.  Pretty funny. 

Ron wanted grape tomatoes.  I also got him some black cherry tomatoes, which he really likes.  I gres some several years ago and he adored them.  I think he'll eat these before tomorrow.  He kept saying no but when I gave them to him he ate half the carton, making obscene yum yum noises.  What else? 

A big bottle of Suave Moroccan Infusions shampoo.  I seldom buy the same shampoo twice but I'm impressed.  Food items.  Some protein energy bars, no almond or peanuts (hard to find!), for breakfast.  I also got some Nature Valley Breakfast biscuits. 

As a side note, my Belvita are finally starting to pick up sales, at work. 

I got Ron his tomatoes, drink mix for me, and a couple of lemons for my next henna treatment.  That pretty much killed the budget. 

We had a pretty short wait to come home.  I kicked myself, I'd forgotten to bring my oversized tote bags.  I had to schlep all the bags myself.  It's a lot easier to deal with one large tote. 

I sorted out the work stuff and put it by the door.  They like what I'm doing and I can get a lot of the stuff at Walmart.  Yes, we pay double sales tax, but these are not big dollar purchases.  I'm not worried. 

Neither is Ron.  He's full of praise for my ideas. 

It's nice to be appreciated. 

Thursday, April 17, 2014


Ron had great trepidation about me writing this.  "I'd rather forget it happened" he said. 

I always remind him he was suffering from head injury dementia, and some very legitimate frustration, at the time.

This story has been one of the few I'd never shared.  Today Ron gave me permission to share it. I do hope it helps some other caregiver for the head injured. 

Things get better.  Lots better. 

Let me set the scene.  Ron and I are in the hospital.  I'm there because he does better with me around.  When he wakes up disoriented (every time) I orient him.  I remind him he was in an accident, run over by a pickup truck, and in the hospital.  I sleep in a pull out chair near his bed, and basically live with him. 

He couldn't walk.  He had a broken leg and was partially paralyzed on the broken side due to a stroke.  He had a "very severe" head injury.  He still doesn't remember most of 2002.  He was in ICU for 3 weeks, in a coma.

He woke up and went through some of the various stages of head injury recovery.  One of the stages: angry and agitated.  He would (and does) slip back to that when he's very tired or frustrated. 

Ron clearly couldn't use the toilet while in a coma.  They had a solution for that.  As he woke up he didn't like that option.  Who would? 

So, they got him a bedpan.  It was marginally better but not much.  At least he could holler for it.  I'd get it and either the nurse aide or I would deal with the product. 

Ron had been promised a commode chair.  He was very excited about it but it wasn't happening.  He kept having to use the bedpan.  He was getting very frustrated, yelling "Toilet!"  "Toilet!"  He sounded so pitiful. 

Like anyone, he wanted to use the toilet.  He was tired of the bedpan.  I was happy he was getting better but Ron found the bedpan humiliating.  I kept asking and they kept giving us the run-around. 

We had to learn to "transfer" Ron, they said.  But they wouldn't teach us, and never gave a reason. 

One day Ron kept shouting for his toilet.  He sounded so plaintative.  "Toilet!  Toilet!"  It reminded me of bird cries.  I got him on the bedpan.  He told me to leave the room. 

I left.  I waited about 10 minutes.  I asked Ron if he was done and he shouted at me.  I waited another 10 minutes. 

I went back in the room.  Ron was on his stomach (I'd left him on his back, on the bedpan, lying in bed).  I knew it had taken Ron a tremendous feat to flip over like that, so soon after his stroke.  Wearing my gloves, I picked up the bedpan.  It was empty. 

"Ron, did you go?"
"Where is it?"
He smiled grimly. 
"I threw it!"
"I threw it!" 

I looked at his hands.  Yeah, he'd thrown it all right.  He later told me he took great care molding the product into a perfectly round ball before throwing it. 

Oh-kay.  I had to find a big ball of waste.  The product was lurking somewhere in the hospital room.  I looked to the left of the bed.  I looked to the right.  I looked under the bed.  I looked at the foot.  I looked by the head.  I looked in and around the other bed.  I looked around my fold-out sleep chair. 

Exhausted, I got ready to collapse into "my" chair, when I saw the stains on the wooden armrest.  Ah.  About to drop into the seat, I caught myself and turned around, finding the product in a position of honor. 

I almost sat in it! 

I was still wearing my gloves. I picked it up and flushed it.  I told the nurse aides that Ron had a bowel movement (they had to put it in the chart).  I also mentioned the flinging episode in passing and requested "something to clean it up".   They reacted with shock and horror. 

About 5 minutes later, a nurse in full haz-mat gear came into the room.  I explained I'd gotten rid of the worst, I was happy to clean it up, and he'd done it out of frustration.  She wasn't buying. 

Ron, I asked, what did you do? 
"I threw it". 
Are you sorry you threw it?
Will you throw it again? 
"No"  The nurse relaxed. 
Why did you throw it?
"I want a toilet!" he wailed.  "Sick of the bedpan!   Not a baby!   TOILET!" 

"I told you" I continued.  "He just wanted the toilet.  He got frustrated.  Can someone please work on getting him the commode chair?  He's going to get constipated, he hates using that thing.  Look what he did today!"  She went out.  I cleaned Ron up. 

About 10 minutes later a tentative knock on the door.  A Spanish lady came into the room. "You need clean?"  She held some rags and a bucket of disinfectant. 

"My husband" I told her.  "I clean."  I took the bucket and rags. 
She brightened up.  "YOU clean?"  I nodded.  "OK!  I come later!" 

I cleaned everything I could find and then some, devoting particular attention to handprints and the chair.  I poured out the used solution and left the rags in the bucket.  The lady came back and took it away, smiling widely. 

Well, he is my husband.  What was I going to do?  Lord it over her like some "royal", watching her clean? 

The next day they brought Ron a commode chair and worked with me on transfers.  He spent quite a while on his beloved toilet. 

When Ron came home, his father loaned him an old commode chair from a dead aunt.  Ron was thrilled.  A couple weeks later, he took it back.  Ron was devastated at the loss of his beloved "toilet" and Dad could never give us a good explanation. 

Ron's brother and sister had refused to help us, disowned us, and I think they made his Dad choose.  When he got dementia, though, they put Dad in a nursing home. 

In the meantime I had to tell Ron his Dad had taken "toilet" away, and we were back at the bedpan.  I ordered another commode chair off the internet but it took about a week to arrive.  In the meantime, he would hop into the bathroom on his good leg. 

Ron's a man who loves his toilet. 

In 2004, the day we bought the house, I caught salmonella.  I was violently ill for about a week.  "Toilet" got a few miles because I doubted I could make it.  I did, using the chair. 

Ron was a champ, emptying the chair for me and acting so sweet about it.  He even rigged up a little toilet paper dispenser and trash bag.  He was wonderful. 

You reap what you sow. 

Good Depression food

It seems odd to say, but I'm feeling better since I realized I'm cycling depressed. 

I only had a week's mania.  I've never had a better timed one, except the one when Ron left the hospital.  It lasted long enough, that's the importance. 

However, that means I'm depressed now.  Hopelessness, etc.  Not so bad today because I woke up with a NASTY headache.  I took some excedrin and drank a mountain dew.  300 mg of caffeine is good for a boost into low mania for a few hours. 

"Don't go over 450 mg" Doc tells me.  OK. 

If I know I'm depressed than I can recognize it and deal with it accordingly.  Last night, I did a henna. 

So what have I been doing?  Tuesday I worked 12 hours plus.  I came home, ate, took my meds, and went pretty much straight to bed.  Wednesday I went to Walmart, came home, and did a henna.  I used the "playful plum".  Not a good call. 

When I use "original" it comes in orange and fades to red after a day.  Playful plum has manifested as more of a dark brown.  However, I'm only 15 hours in.  Once I use shampoo (I rinsed it with conditioner, sounds wierd but works well), and give it another day, it may get redder.  If not, I'm glad I still have time to use "original" before my parents come to visit.  They really like my hair redder. 

I love my Dad dearly.  I can only recall a few times he complimented me on my appearance.  My wedding day, for instance.  He actually *liked* the photo of me with the red hair.  Yeah, I still want to make Daddy proud.  :) 

I was and am a total Daddy's girl.  Except for running off with Ron and the whole "living in sin" thing for 10 years.  But I know Dad is proud of me for not running out on Ron after he got hurt, for marrying Ron, and helping Ron manage the business.  He told me once he was very proud I had never asked him for money. 

Dad's money is his.  Not mine. 

As I see it, Dad only has one real flaw: he doesn't like cats.  Oh, well.  I bet Torbie tries to change that when he comes to visit. 

Oh, by the way, I did some deductive reasoning.  Torbie snores.  Every snoring cat I've had has been over 10, so I think she's over 10.  She gets a little stiff sometimes.  I feed her glucosamine treats, though, with fish oil.  She loves them and they do seem to help.  If nothing else they make a really good treat (2 a day). 

I was reading up on arthritis in cats.  Apparently warmth is very good for them.  I found a heated cat bed so I put a little money in my account.  Later today, I'm going to get one
She'll love it.  She adores my heated mattress pad, the sheepskin on the back of the couch, etc.  It makes me happy to spoil her.  I plan to put it on "her spot" on the computer room couch. 

I think that's one of the good things about cats and depression: not necessarily that I've gotten a surfeit of cuddles lately.  Not that I woke up yesterday to find not one, but BOTH cats in my bed, but they enjoy the little things I give them so very much.  They're just so delighted with the little things.  Treats.  A fresh bowl of high-end cat food (the cats have a choice between salmon, or duck), a cuddle.  It makes life fun, even when I'm depressed. 

I love the little southern meow Torbie does when she wants to get in my lap: Ma-YOW. I always pat my lap, encourage her, and she jumps right up.  She likes it when I rub her ears.  Old cats seem to love that, but Baby Girl (2 years old) will get pretty growly if you try it. 

Work has gone pretty well, with a few problems: no stockroom door (installed yesterday, but no lock); power outage on Monday - we lost about $40 in perishable inventory.  One of the managers said "You don't have to throw it out".  Dude (I didn't say this), it got up over 50 degrees in there for God knows how long.  I have to throw it out.  I don't sell anything I wouldn't eat.  No water line yet for coffee machine.  I don't care about that: but the customers do. 

It is a little scary for me to work with coffee drinkers.  They get very, very, angry when they don't have their coffee.  Of course it's an addictive behavior but one can't say that, of course.  It's a little alarming when they're in my face yelling. 

As a vendor, I would never use a coffee vending machine.  Too many problems.  You're better off bringing some instant - we have half a dozen microwaves.  In maintenance they have their own coffee pot.  Everyone puts in some money every month, or brings supplies.  The pot's on the burner all day and they seem to love it.  Perfect cup every time.  Kind of like the cop shows.  I don't say this of course. 

Today should be pretty simple (ha!).  We go to the warehouse, get some snack items.  Go to work and stock.  Go home.  That's it. 

Ron's giving me tomorrow off.  I got paid, put in my money for the cat bed and my recurring debit. 

Ron wanted more protein foods; so we got him BBQ chicken strips, chicken patties (cooked, you just warm it and slap on a bun), and nonfat milk for his shakes.  I make him protein shakes with nonfat milk and 2 scoops Peanut Butter Chocolate whey protein powder per cup.  He loves it.  He'll drink a quart of that a day (insane protein).  I also got sharp cheddar slices to put on the chicken sandwich, whole grain buns, etc.  He loves grape tomatoes so we got that; and V8.  That's about it for Ron vegetable.  For me, I got cheese sticks - I'll be eating all the other stuff too. 

I'm pretty proud of us; good food, easy to fix and minimal dishes.  Good depression food.