A good day

I forget. Sometimes it's important for me to celebrate the "small" victories in my life. For instance, Metrolift was late so I got an extra-long cuddle from Pretty Girl. Later, we had an hour and a half long cuddle session, as she curled in my lap, purring.

I don't see how anyone could give her up; but I'm glad they did. From what I can tell, she was only a few days from euthanized when I adopted her. I told Ron that's probably why I felt such an urgency to get to the pound after Bubba's death.

Other victories: the trash is gone. I had some brush and an old plastic storage box out back. I got rid of them today, and they took it. They also took the contents of the trash can, and I put it away when they finished.

It rained. We need it. Thank you God. It was a nice steady rain.

My refills are ready, so I can take my medication.

I had a nice shower this morning with lemon-scented soap. I like it. It also seems to act as a bug repellent.

The machines looked great, and are making good sales. If there's anything going on at work, it is furthering our sales. Ron and I got it all done.

I finally remembered to take my value line items to work, just in the nick of time. One of them was completely sold out, 2 more were getting close to sold out. I also stocked several cases of canned soda. Ron stayed busy stocking bottled drinks.

Ron's head is looking better. He'll have another scar but he has plenty. He said I did the right thing keeping him at home, when it happened.

A coworker, works for the other blind vendor, said his cats loved the (unwanted by my girls) canned cat food. He was even happier to get the treats.

I'm healthy, albeit a little queasy from medication. Ron is doing well, too.

Yes, I'm still horribly depressed. Today it wasn't as mixed, thank God. Just depressed.

I started my cycle, not fun, but expected. Someone I know is convinced my depression is hormone related. I'll say this - it is probably a little worse, due to hormones, but that's not the driving factor. I was able to down an Aleve before the cramps hit, so I won't be in pain.

Oh, I get horrible cramps.

We had good rides today and I handed out some Bibles. That always makes me happy.

It sounds odd to say when I am clinically depressed: but I had a good day.

Feeling lazy, so I did a video blog

I did not want to type it all out. :) 

Don't mess with Texas blind vendors in a wheelchair

Ugh.  I hate drama.  Drama overload.

Since they closed the deli (for poor sales, and that's when the economy was doing fine), various people have brought in meals to sell.  I'm not wild about it, but I understand that's going to happen. 

It's a free market society.  Some people would rather have a warm piece of meat and mashed potatoes, than a cold sandwich and a bag of chips.  I turn a blind eye, if you'll pardon the pun.  We can't stop everyone.  Most people try to cater meals, realize it isn't worth the trouble, realize no one wants to pay what they'd have to charge, and give up. 

However, BJ took it a little too far.  She formed a "secret" Facebook group years ago.  Nothing wrong with that.  It's mainly her personal forum for politics and who died.  She complains, a lot, about politics and puts up "new agey" stuff.  About a year, year and a half ago, she started promoting her "Barbeque" business.  She and her husband bought one of those big smoker trucks. 

I hate it when people let emotions color their testimony, so I will keep this as matter of fact as possible. 

She started by doing "Charity fundraisers". One employee got sick and needed money to pay for living expenses.   That was her introduction to selling her BBQ plates at work. 

Now, in a perfect world I woudln't care about the meat.  Assuming I knew without a doubt the meat was cooked to standards, and I know for a fact it is not.  It is seasoned and cooked, but the foodhandlers don't wear hair coverings, etc.  It is probably time/temperature abused FDA link on pathogens  - that can come back onto us. 

However, I was still willing to overlook because it's going to happen, they're all adults, and if anyone is dumb enough to buy a sandwich from someone who doesn't understand food safety, they can enjoy the result. 

Cynical but honest.  Then a neighbor boy accidentally killed his brother in a gun accident.  She did another "fundraiser" for the family.  About that time people started asking, in the group, about future sales. 

That's what I believe she wanted.  I believe that was her plan the entire time.  I was STILL OK with it. 

Until she started making "combos", and using the group to promote. 

This is a good time to mention her husband works there too, and at minimum, they make at least $70K a year.  That's far more. 

So, I checked with Ron.  At the end of the day, it's his baby.  He was pretty upset, and told me it was fine to write her a note asking her to stop. 

I did just that.  I started by asking how much money she made, then stated how much we made.  Then I got into some details - we only operate a few machines, etc.  I went to how her "business" is hurting mine and we really need the money.   I told her I understood she didn't like God much but could she please at least consider what "karma" might bring if she took business from a crazy woman with brain damage and a blind man in a wheelchair? 

I told her Ron wanted to report her to sales tax and the health department (she later claimed she had papers from both - which I doubt because of the photo she posted of her daughter violating several food safety rules while "seasoning" the meat), but we weren't willing to do that yet.  Yet. 

She sent me a message - oh, I had leftovers from this weekend (EW!  Time temperature abuse!).   I have papers from sales tax and the health department.  Sorry business is down.  Nothing about stopping. 

I also had the bitter thought, if she had leftovers then why is she marketing them with chips and a drink?  You have to go buy the chips, chill the drinks, etc. 

So, I told her, I am copying all this to our supervisor.  I will ask you point blank, are you going to keep selling these combos, in violation of the contract? 

It took her about 10 minutes to reply "no". 

Our supervisor is still reporting her to plant management. 

Edit: she unfriended me.  Good riddance. 

Click here

I'm not the naive kid who first got online. 

My first email was from a nice person who said they remembered me from high school.  Didn't mention the school, and looking back I realized a few other things.  "Click here" it said, so I did, and boy I got an eyeful. 

The last professional report written about my prospects stated "Heather is extremely naive and trusting, due to her disability".  It made me very angry, but in all honesty, true.  I've had to toughen up over the years, though. 

For instance, the alcoholic who kept bothering me after the Bible Handout - I ignored him because I will not promote addiction.  If I won't escort my own husband to the liquor store, why would I share my hard earned money so you can go buy another "40" (ounce beer)? 

I don't operate that way.  I see myself as fairly cynical.  I don't click on links.  I give to organizations, not people. 

However, something tonight truly shocked me.  I looked up a meme (photo with a funny caption) on google.  I found it, and also found an X rated one depicting a sex act.  I even went back later to verify that yes, I had seen that. 

Well, I thought, maybe my internet search filter is off.  I clicked on "safe search".  You know what's sad?  I got MORE hits for the porno meme than I had in regular search. 

I closed that window, literally, happy I do not have children.  It would be very difficult to keep children pure and innocent in this world, where a harmless search for a catchphrase produces a filthy image. 

I have no problem with sex.  God created it for the marriage bed, not the internet.  It's supposed to be one aspect of a lifelong commitment, not a quick jolt with a stranger. 

I don't watch porn.  It ruins lives.  I am sure a lot of men enjoyed the image, and some women, too. 

I don't often agree, outright, with Ron's "The World is going to hell" philosophy, and I avoid the news. 

Tonight, though, I got a big slap of reality: this world is filthy. 

Glad I don't have kids.  Glad! 

Venial

Ron "rode" the phone last night with the police, making sure the wild party got the music down.  It was so loud I could feel the floor vibrating under my feet.  I live in a ground floor house, two blocks away. 

I will say this, they did shut up eventually, and they kept their friends over so no one drove drunk.  Smart. 

Today it's pretty quiet, so enough about that.  I will say I do envy the deaf sometimes, when neighbors are having a loud party, Ron is yelling at me (not last night), or I'm having an auditory hallucination. 

The blog has been good for me, I'm a lot more open about my illness and pretty honest about it.  Which brings me to yesterday. 

Ron and I, for a lark, went to Walmart after work.  I am out of soda and have been drinking the instant mix tea/punch/lemonade packets.  I like pretty much all of them EXCEPT strawberry.  I loathe strawberries. 

I don't have a lot of cups.  I am nervous about glasses with a blind man in the house.  I had some plastic cups but they got old or ruined, and I never got more. 

I have considered going the old school southern way and getting some quart "mason" canning jars, drinking out of that.  If you watch Duck Dynasty you know what I mean. 

However, they are glass, and I'm back to the blind man in the house.  I'm not always graceful, either. 

I hunted up some nice one quart plastic glasses, 88 cents each.  I got 3.  I basically just reuse the same one over and over and over, like I was doing with those takeout cups, but they got pretty gross.  I remember I finished a drink and got ready to make another, opened the lid, and actually looked inside.  It had some mold.  I threw them all out. 

I put the glasses in my cart and headed off to checkout.  I paid and left, sitting outside with Ron.  Ron wanted to know the price on an item I'd paid for, so I looked at the reciept.  I don't usually check my reciept unless it's for work. 

Oops.  They only rang up 2 cups.  I admit it, for at least a minute, I sat there thinking "Walmart can afford it" and "I don't want to get back in line".  "No one knows".  "It is her fault for not ringing me up".  And then I thought about God.  He knows. 

I also read something in one of my devotionals, it basically said little sins lead to big sins.  I got up and went back in the store.  When I explained, the cashier gave me quite the look.  I told her, "I have to answer to God, and I don't want to steal."  She thanked me, I paid, and I went back out with my now legal cup. 

Am I tooting my horn?  I'm so holy?  No.  I'm an imperfect sinner, and will remain one until I'm glorified by God, either death or rapture.  In the meantime, it's my job to stomp out sin when I catch it. 

I sin.  I make mistakes.  But I will not sin if I can avoid it. 

"You have no power over me"

I'm feeling brutally honest tonight. 

I never cared much about "heritage".  After all, if my own mother didn't want me, why look any farther back?  Both my grandfathers were dead (both served in WW2, and only one came home).  One grandmother hated me. 

However, I do have to wonder about my DNA sometimes.  I have some Scottish ancestry.  I don't really "see" it in any way, but one:  bagpipes.  I love bagpipes. 

Most people, from what I hear, don't really find them inspiring.  I do. 

Now, to be honest, from what I have gathered my mother's side is English, if you go back a ways.  I do love tea.  I used to spend my allowance on little 10-packs of imported teabags, paperwrapped bags wrapped in cellophane.  I would reuse the tea bag over and over until I had wrung it dry. 

My love of tea became a little bit of a family joke, but a loving one.  My younger brother used to give me a metal tin full of imported teabags every Christmas (the tins were lost in a move).  I have had some tremendous teabag manias - where I bought literally every variety of tea available. 

Then, during other manias, I'd purge it.  During my last purge, I took all the teabags out of their boxes and combined them in a large plastic zip top bag, freeing up tons of space. 

I prefer a foil wrapped teabag, it can live in the pantry for a few years and still taste great.  Paper?  No.  Not in Texas, at least. 

[whispering]  We have roaches in Texas. 

That's the problem with some of the imported Asian teas.  They are delicious, but have paper wrapping.  I don't really do looseleaf - I have enough things to manage. 

Not to mention, what's hitchhiking in that box? 

So, most often, my "tea" is a stick of powder mixed into a glass of water.  I'm OK with that. 

As I've said in my header, and many times in my blog, a huge part of my life is coming to terms.  Coming to terms with the fact that I have an illness with a high mortality rate.  Knowing that if I go off my meds, I would be dead in months. Dealing with medication and it's side effects, knowing I must endure. 

Accepting the fact that good symptom control (and really, after Ron's blackout how many times would I have raved and raved, instead of moving on like I did today?) means less energy, less intelligence (the typo rate is up, and the grammar has gone down), more fatigue, and fewer interests.  I remember one reader lamenting the fact that I "used to be so interesting, always had a project and working in the garden". That is SICK. 

SICK - I may look like fun on the outside, but inside I just want to die.  Well - well, I had very little sleep last night, and a lot of drama.  I went to work, worked pretty professionally, and got it all done.  I took care of Ron - which can be very hard to do when I'm angry at him.  But I got it done because I needed to do it: I like that about me. 

I like that I am a practical person.  I like that my emotions don't rule me anymore. 

To quote the movie: You have no power  over me. 




That, friends is worth ANY price.

The cats made a real man out of me

Well, today went better than I expected.  I got up at 5 and got online for a bit, did my shower and got dressed. 

Ron couldn't find his cell phone.  Later, I was able to help him figure out the location (a very odd place), based in his last location when talking on the phone.  If he was in the hall, it must be in the hall.  I prayed on it, too, but all that happened later. 

Last night, the neighbors decided to play loud music.  I tried to be understanding, it is Mexican mother's day.  I understand that in some cultures, they like to party with a lot of food, alcohol, and very loud music, all night long if possible.  But I still prayed for God to please let me sleep. 

These particular people like to play the music on car stereo speakers, with the house door open, and the car doors open.  It's very ghetto. 

I was thrilled at the thunderstorm around 11 PM.  Needless to say, they shut up everything, the music, the car, and the house.  By the way, that house had a terrible odor the one time I did go over there, asking them politely to please turn it down, I could hear it blocks away and had to work very early the next morning.   They were very rude, and did not. 

I found out they are renters, and based on that odor the landlord could stand to do an inspection.  Worst case I will write the landlord a letter, not mentioning the music, and suggest they do an inspection. 

Ron was pretty rowdy, so I didn't sleep much.  I got both cats in the house and had a nice cuddle with Pretty Girl, a very wet cat in my bed.  When I let her out again, she smelled like a very wet cat.  She groomed herself and is back to her usual gorgeous self. 

I also had a nice cuddle with Pretty this morning, while waiting on Metrolift.  I sat out on the porch. 

I had more cuddles with her, later.  She's an awesome cat. 

We went to the warehouse, and got the supplies we needed (I needed Pop-tarts, and the strawberry flavor move the best).  Ron needed soda. 

We had a good ride to work.  The other client was pretty demanding, which always reminds me what it looks like.  It's awful.  I don't want to be that ugly person. 

So, when, after work, our ride was very late, I really tried to be understanding.  Someone could have peed in the vehicle, and they had to clean it up (happens a lot).  Someone could have gotten sick and they had to call an ambulance.  We have a lot of car accidents on our freeways, maybe he got stuck in traffic. 

Ron asked the dispatcher.  "Oh, he passed you up and made an unscheduled drop off and pickup."  He was playing cowboy.  I was pissed. 

I told Ron, as we waited over an hour, I could punish him with lots of kitty cat chatter.  That can really aggravate the kind of guy who makes up his own schedule.  He can't tell me to shut up, either. 

I did, a little, but only for a couple minutes.  I could tell he hated it. 

When he finally did show up, Ron asked him point blank "What took you so long, you are an hour late?"   He told a half truth, he "had" a pickup in the other location.  No, he didn't have it.  He had it after he dropped us at the house. 

Ron just set his face and was very quiet.  I was very polite, which for me is pretty much screaming.  The last time I was polite to the driver they started asking me what was wrong, and apologizing for being 2 minutes late (that day, I had a headache).  I am a very outgoing, cheerful person.  I have been called "Bubbly" even when I am depressed.  I did a little cat chatter but he started glazing over, and I didn't want to end up in the emergency room. 

He was a skillful driver, but you can't keep clients waiting for over an hour, in the ghetto, because you want to make up your own schedule.  He may be fired today.  Obviously dispatch was onto him.  There is a line out the door - people who want that job. 

The drivers work hard but make a very decent salary.  I have had many drivers tell me they thought about quitting, but then realized no other job could compare with pay. 

So, I'm home.  I helped Ron find his phone.  I got some laundry started, and then we went to Walmart.  I was found, again, on the porch with Pretty in my lap. 

Walmart was pretty hectic.  It makes me realize how many people make a really big deal about Mother's Day. 

Mother's Day was always a tough holiday for me, because I was abandoned by my mother.  I was raised by an unofficially adopted stepmother who had 3 of her own kids.  That's not a cut on her - but she didn't need me.  My own mother was this awful family secret and I never even heard from her on my birthday, most years.    So, it's a rather wierd holiday for me. 

I don't feel like "Oh, I have to go out and buy" who?  My birth mother is dead, my stepmom has 3 of her own kids, and 4 grandkids - a present! 

The cats helped me loosen up.  One year, Frosty brought me a brown dirt snake  It was between 15-18 inches long - I didn't stretch it out and measure!   It was alive and unharmed.  It was squirming, on the floor, at my feet.  I was pretty horrified, but I had to man up, get the dustpan, and scoop him up.  Then it twisted around my hands until I dropped it in the dustpan and evicted him (I locked the cat door for a couple hours so he could get away).   They are nonvenomous (can't hurt me). 

Another year, I'm pretty sure Bubba brought me a dead rat.  It was large and very stiff.  Just what I wanted.   It wasn't on the day, but a little before or a little after. 

Those cats have made a real man out of me.  I only lament Ron's blindness when the cats bring me a "treat".  I have to deal with it. 

Just like I have to deal with the other issues in my family. 

Drinking has made you a selfish person

Well, that was ugly.  Ron had another blackout. 

Even though he isn't vain, sometimes I think he is a narcissist.  He got very upset when he couldn't find his cat yesterday.  It was pouring rain, a thunderstorm.  We had guys next door with a weed-whacker.  When she finally did come home, I found her bothered by a stray poodle mix.  Of course she was off hiding somewhere. 

Ron chose to receive it as "She doesn't like me anymore".  He got out the alcohol, breaking his rule (never before 12) and said "I'll probably have a fugue state" (fugue is just another word for blackout but I think he finds it more dignified). 

Fast forward, I told Ron I needed to take a nap, could he please be quiet.  I laid down for a while, and it was apparent he would not comply with my request.  Most of it was the usual behavior.   Shouting at God, trying to "help' the cat with burrs in her tail (kitty made it very clear that was a no), banging things around, falling on the floor, mysterious crashes... a little more sober "What did I do?  Why is my room like this?  What happened to my head?", and then back to the liquor cabinet again. 

Apparently he landed on his forehead during one of the falls.  I feel fine sharing this because there is no way to hide it.  Most of the time, Ron falls and the bruses/laceration/whatever is covered by his clothes.  Rarely, just a couple times, he has hit his head when falling. 

He will probably "joke" that I hit him, which will freak everyone out.  He didn't see the looks I got the last time he did that.  I'm really tempted to say something bitter like "Or maybe you're a drunk" if he does.  I will probably just smile and say "If I hit you, I won't leave marks". 

He was sure acting like his usual belligerent self, didn't want medical help, so I left him alone.  I can hear him snoring right now. 

I told him, several times, it was very important for him to let me sleep.  LET me sleep.  Like I have to get permission. 

I told him, during one of his declarations of love "If you really love me the best thing you can do is go lie down in bed and stay there". 

"I'm just trying to sleep!" he replied.  How is it, when he doesn't drink, he sleeps fine?  But when he does drink he has a 12 hour blackout, awake, and then sleeps for 12 hours after?   He even told me, himself, he sleeps better without drinking - he "did an experiment" and would be drinking less.  That lasted one day.  One day. 

I guess it's a good thing I didn't believe him.  He kept me up, all night, like he did when Bubba died.  It is sad, when I really need my sleep, he chooses to drink until blackout and then acts like a victim.  "What did I do?  You have to help me!  I am a victim here!" 

I told him, bitterly, last night: Drinking has made you a very selfish person.  He was so shocked he asked me to repeat it.