Friday, September 19, 2014

Freezer

This won't be the typical blog. 

I am in a horrible mood.  Depressed and very irritable.  Not really fit for anything public. 

I had planned to go to bed very early, but that didn't work out. 

I did have a lovely cuddle with Torbie last night.  She slept in the bed, and permitted lots of petting and kisses as I hit the snooze alarm. 

I'm limping along, trying to practice my faith the best I can, honor God, and not release my inner bitch. 

Some days.  I just want to take out my brain and put it in the freezer. 

Thursday, September 18, 2014

I want to control my content

When depressed, I often encounter the "I'm so depressed, negative and boring." line of thinking.   

However, my hit counter (about 2800 views a month) says y'all like me anyway.  Yes, it's a popularity contest.  I admit that.  It makes me happy to see lots of hits, although I don't think I'll ever get the 7K hits I did the month our house was robbed back in December 2012. 

Today: got up, shower, no energy or motivation for God time.  We had some pretty severe downpours and some minor street flooding.  We are due for more rain, too. 

Baby Girl has become more "my" cat, although Torbie does sleep with me on occasion.  I'll take what I get. 

Ron and I had made a date to go to House of Fries.  I saw it after a Bible Handout a while back and I've been interested to sample the menu. 

Of course, I took this along: 
My afternoon meds.  Clearly I take some supplements in addition to the prescriptions.  The pink capsules are lithium, the small orange tablet's my Haldol.  The Depakote is in there but hiding. 

I've realized some of the drivers are (hate to say it) lazy.  They will let Ron out of his wheelchair, but then refuse to tie the wheelchair down.  It gets damaged.  This happened to Ron's "new" wheelchair, just bought this year, and now it has a bad brake, making it unusable on paratransit. 

Thankfully Ron has an "old" chair, but many drivers act like "Oh, it has good brakes, just set the brakes and forget it."  No, they can't do that.  The wheelchair will flip, run into the back of the seats, etc.  It makes horrible crashing noises every time the driver accelerates, or brakes. 

Asking them to tie it down has resulted in drivers outright lying to me, saying they did, then lying again when it starts crashing around in the back.  When I opened the back and looked, it hadn't been tied down at all. 

With a passenger riding, the wheelchair requires 4 tie downs and a cross-body seatbelt.  We ask them to please use 2 tie downs.  Many get a massive attitude - so I've realized I have to stand at the back of the minivan, like a policeman, "reminding" them to tie down the wheelchair.  Ensuring they do. 

Ron cannot get around without the wheelchair.  Why are people so careless? 

I understand, a lot of the drivers are obese, it's difficult for an obese person to do the bending and reaching required to tie down a wheelchair - but maybe your refusal to exercise got you obese?  And why would you take a job requiring certain physical actions if you're really incapable of performing them? 

They are NOT going to buy us a new wheelchair, that's for certain.  I've begged Ron to please just ride in the wheelchair, forcing the driver to secure it, but he says it's very bumpy.  He also had a hearing impairment and cannot hear any conversation if he's riding in the back.  Agh. 

Anyway, I've been standing out in the rain, a lot, lately, policing the drives, acting like a bitch in their eyes, I'm sure.  Getting soaked while the driver is nice and dry in the wheelchair compartment.

I'm not angry or bitter about it, just resigned and a little frustrated that no one seems to take pride in doing a good job, anymore.

I'm going to make some fruit punch.

OK, I'm back.  Ron's been very appreciative, by the way.  I really appreciate it.  He acts like it's such a big deal to "take care of him".  It isn't, really.  He doesn't require much more than an "normal" husband.

Laundry
Shopping
Pet care
Check the mail 
All that is the same.

The only difference is pushing him in the wheelchair.  Not a big deal and, we both agree, easier than me guiding him.  That requires a lot of (mine at least) brain processing.  I have to be aware of my location, and Ron's positionally.  I have to move in the three dimensional space while maintaining constant awareness of obstacles and uneven flooring, while maintaining positional awareness for both of us.

Much easier to push him in a wheelchair.

So, we went to House of Fries.  It's on Antoine, not far from where I do Bible Handouts.


I checked it on the health department website - it was fine.  Reviews were consistently good.

We went, even in the rain.

I got this:
Here it is exposed:  
 
 I adore curly fries.  Options: curly, battered (Ron's choice), standard, waffle, and sweet potato.  I could have ordered a basket of fries topped with delicious meats, cheeses, onions, and peppers.  I opted for a standard bacon cheeseburger, minus the onion, curly fries. 

They have several dipping sauces for the fries.  I went with honey mustard (so did Ron).  Ron added jalapenos to his burger. 

It was delicious.  The bacon was perfect, thick, crisp, and tasty.  The toppings were good and didn't detract from the burger. 

I gave them a review on Google plus:  Yes, I know it has my real name.

Menu, if you're blessed enough to live in Houston:  Check out the low prices!

Overall, VERY happy. Ron swore we were coming back. 

The manager was really nice.  I liked him a lot.  The employees all appeared to be well-treated, diligent, and happy. 

I hate eating somewhere and you hear the manager screaming at people.  Or the people are insolent and rude.  Not here. 

Best of all, it's on a bus line.  Like I told Ron "If you dropped dead tomorrow I could still get here on the bus"  He laughed. 

Google offered me the opportunity, a while back, to "monetize" my blog - to put ads and get paid if y'all clicked.  I decided that wasn't something that interested me. 

In my view, when a blog goes commercial it whores.  Suddenly "clean eating health nuts" are sporting ads for GMO energy bars.  A blog like mine would probably have ads for "bad" churches. 

I want to control my content.  If I have something nice to say about a business I will say it.  No one's paying me so you know it's clearly "my" opinion. 

That's just me.  I don't fault people for trying to make a buck but you won't see it here.

So, we ate.  We sat around for an embarrassingly long time afterward, waiting on Metrolift.  The manager was very nice about it, though.  I bought a delicious cookie.  I found out they have free refills but didn't abuse it. 

I intend to avoid all caffeine after 12 PM.  It messes with my illness. 

Remember the other night, when I heard all that strange rumbling?  Ron had mocked me a little but he woke up later that night and heard it too. 

Now, say what you want about my husband, and you can say a lot, good and bad: one night, years ago, back when he could walk a little: he actually staggered as far as he could down the road because he heard the rumbling noise and wanted to locate the source, and stop it.  He almost fell and barely made it home. 

But he did what to most would be a marathon physical exertion, to "protect" me. 

"I almost went in my wheelchair to track it" he told me the other night "But I figured you'd get upset."  Uh, YEAH! 

He said he did hear it and it's industrial.  We have a new (couple years) industrial park on the other side of the bayou, not a quarter mile away.  They do a lot of manufacturing at night, apparently, which results in erratic, loud, rumbles at night... pretty low grade but enough to "disturb" the "disturbed". 

That is, if I had too much caffeine.  So, I'm avoiding it. 

Ron reminds me they are keeping out property taxes down. 

It's not bad 360 days a year.  And I think the other 5 nights, even a quiet room would be too noisy in some way. 

In the cat department, Torbie sleeps with me occasionally, and Baby Girl is hanging out nearby more and more often.  I think we're getting more bonded. 

I did not bond to her at first, I saw her as a pestiferous little interloper, disturbing my Bubba.  I had promised Bubba I wouldn't get any more cats and now Ron, and this thing, had made me a liar.  She was too hyper, only cuddled Ron, and kept trying to sleep in my bed - and I rolled over on her one time too many.  She gave up on me. 

Now, though, as Torbie bonds more to Treat Man, Baby Girl is sliding over towards me.  I value her.  I cherish her.  I respect her.  I often find her sleeping in this doorway as I work on the computer. 

She's been guarding the cat door.  I think something tried to get in. 

I set up the ingredients for my dump cake: 
2 cans mixed berry fruit pie filling (two, 20 ounce cans)
1 box cake mix (I had butter pecan)
1 stick butter, cut up, will remain in the fridge until cooking time. 

I'll dump the fruit in a 9x13 pan, then the cake mix and butter on top.  Cook it for (let me check) 50 minutes at 350 (preheat).  Easy. 

Something I can cook, even depressed.  Best of all I have disposable cake pans!  I can throw out all the dishes! 

It ought to be good. 



Wednesday, September 17, 2014

"Get me a switch"

Another point. 

I have been the victim of domestic violence on more than one occasion.  On nearly every occasion I used physical violence to defend myself. 

I had to teach one abuser, getting within arms reach while attacking me meant they'd be choked until they agreed to stop hitting me.  A harsh lesson to teach, to be sure. 

I have knee problems due to one physical assault, from someone who was taught karate.  If you have a violent and abusive child, don't send them to karate.  It just makes them more effective tormenters. 

I have various physical scars from physical assaults before I met Ron. 

On one memorable occasion, Ron got violent with me during a blackout when I prevented him from walking on broken glass.  He slapped me and left me black and blue.  I ended up hitting him over the head with an old running shoe until he backed off - and let me tell you, that's a hell of a place to be, pinned on the floor by a crippled head injury victim who's doing me damage - wondering if I'll "break" him if I hit back to get him off. 

On that occasion, after a couple ineffectual whacks with a shoe, I told him the police were on the way.  He stopped and hid in the man cave. 

I've told him, and I mean it, any future violence will result in criminal charges.  I will also post photos of any injuries. 

Having established my status as a domestic violence "victim" and possibly perpetrator (although I firmly believe I am entitled to defend myself if someone's hitting me first), I have some opinions on the recent NFL domestic abuse cases. 

In poor black culture, "Get me a switch" is a fact of life.  The switch (flexible twig broken off a tree) is used to spank the child.  Occasionally it leaves marks. 

I don't see a problem with this as a disciplinary measure.  I think had the player worked for a meat-packing plant, it would have been a non-issue. 

Secondly, the Rice case. 

Interestingly enough, when I lived in the San Francisco Bay Area I rang up Mrs. Jerry Rice on a couple of occasions.  She was a lovely lady, very kind to me, the service provider.  I always enjoyed seeing her.  Very classy. 

So I hate that these people even share the same name. 

No excuse to hit a woman.  Ever.  I've seen the video.  Not only does he hit her, he treats her like a piece of trash until she wakes up. 

That said, it's equally unacceptable for a woman to hit a man, under any circumstance. 

Now, as I said, if someone's physically assaulting you, by all means defend yourself.  Stomp on their instep.  That will fix them right quick. 

But, no matter what the provocation, don't hit.  Hit the elevator button, get off at another floor.  Go home.  Take a long walk.  Go gamble (they were at a casino), watch a show... but don't hit. 

No one forces you into anything.  If you have the discipline to become a professional athlete, you have the discipline to walk away.  That applies to regular people, too. 

Walk away.  It's not worth your reputation and a possible criminal conviction.  It's not worth the damage to your relationship.  If you don't care about the last, walk away from the relationship altogether. 

A good example, years ago, one local church pastor was charged with domestic violence.  I can only imagine what that did to church attendance. 

In my case, I've learned Ron can be very angry when he's having a blackout.  When he is having a blackout, I don't let him corner me.  I don't argue or respond to provocative remarks.  I don't speak at all.  I keep my cell phone with me and my bug out bag at hand.  Should I need, I can flee. 

How would he find me?  He's blind.  As long as I keep my ringer off I'm invisible until he settles down. 

However, Ron has truly changed since I showed him, himself, drunk.  That video was a lifechanger. 

Another thing that bothers me: everyone's attacking the victim in this case.  I try to explain, she's been brainwashed.  She really thinks she doesn't deserve a good man, one who will cherish her.  She thinks this is the "best she can do". 

Why did she marry him?   I am certain Rice's handlers told him marriage was the only way to get out from under the scandal.  If she married him it would trivialize the assault and make her a co-conspirator.  Abusers are charming.  I'm sure she had "wanted" to marry him.  Unfortunately she did. 

I pray she does have an escape plan should she need it.  I am certain the domestic violence underground has contacted her. 

In the meantime, all we can do is pray. 

Date night

I've mentioned I have a scar on my chest.  It's upsetting. 

The scar itself isn't upsetting.  I have scars from various other injuries that don't bother me a bit.  I have acne scars..  I have moles and some large, dark, freckles. 

It's the context.  I got the scar in an assault.  When I went for help, those I trusted to help me not only refused to help, but blamed me for the assault and denied medical care. 

"If I see it and I'm depressed" I told Ron "It's very upsetting and really aggravates the depression."

Ron them proceeded to tell me that everything was made of atoms so scars, and skin, didn't exist anyway.  [sigh]

We went to the Dollar store a while back.  I saw some temporary tattoos. 

I have considered a permanent tattoo.  However, I tend to abscess and that could get ugly real fast.  I want to minimize it, not amplify. 

I thought the temporary tattoo might be a good solution.  I applied one this morning, after my shower.  I was delighted to see it covered the scar completely. 

The "temp" isn't really my style, it's very flamboyant and fanciful, but it's better than naked scar.  I'll live with it for a while, apply new ones as desired, and see if I want to purchase a library of options more to my taste. 

Considering "tats" run up to hundreds an hour, I think it's a good choice. 

I'd love for this not to bother me.  I really want to "get over it" but it's been nearly 30 years and it still does. 

So, today we went to Walmart. 

Let's see what I got: 
One gallon of milk.  I can get protein regardless of fatigue or depression.  Good on cereal, a favorite depression dinner (generic cheerios, which I have in abundance).

More frozen chopped beef.  I thought I got pulled pork but this is excellent, and will make a fantastic birthday dinner.

Yogurt

Ranch dressing for the salad.

Pie filling so I can make a dump cake.  Yellow cake mix and butter for same (ingredients are dumped in a bake dish, then cooked to create a divinely ugly dessert).

Frozen TV dinners.

Kraft Hickory BBQ sauce because that's the only one Ron will eat.  [shrug]

Bacon bits for salad (funny story later)

Snack foods, pepperoni, string cheese, meat sticks - trying to eat protein instead of crap.

Baby carrots

Salad mix - I prefer lively, bitter, greens.  Ron wants iceberg.  We both got what we wanted.

Luna Lemon protein bars.

Cat treats

Hoodie and pants in navy heather.  Smaller sizes than I expect fit with plenty of room!

Cycle stuff

Brand name toothbrush - never bought one before.

Enamel building toothpaste.

Cal/mag/zinc supplement.

I also made a bank deposit in case I want to get something online.

About the bacon bits.  I have been seeing a lot of muslims in the ritual getup lately.  Consider what they are doing to Christians in the middle east.  What they do to thousands of little girls every day - butchering their privates.  I'm not a fan.  I do absolutely pray for them every day, and hand out Bibles if they are interested, but I don't see them as friends.  I see the spread of islam as a tragedy, and a terrible thing. 

So.  The muslim lady in line in front of me, was haggling with the cashier.  She wanted the adult Tshirt priced the same as a tiny child's shirt.  The cashier explained she could not do that.  The customer was pretty shrill and rude... until I threw the bacon bits on the conveyor belt right next to the clothing.  She couldn't wait to leave after that.

I was a little sad I didn't have the pulled pork as well, but [sigh].   

I wish I had put in a compliment for the cashier.  I regret that.  I told God I was sorry for poking a stick at the muslims.

It just makes me so angry to see them in costume, knowing what it represents: domination, hatred of others, submission or death, female enslavement and butchery, dogma, hatred, and a corporal "We're OK and You're Not" attitude.

Christianity tells us to love our enemies (working on that) pray for them (done daily for years), reach out to them with the gospel.  It doesn't tell us to torture, kill, and maim them for a differing belief.  Christians are to emulate Christ, who came to serve.  We're to be servants, not masters.  I think that's the key difference between Christians and muslims.   

By the way, I'm making a deliberate choice regarding capitalization. 

I don't ever wear overtly Christian stuff: one, we have a dress code at work.  Two, at work I wear the cheapest and most modest t-shirts available.  I have a whole selection of mostly black, oversized, men's t-shirts.  I wear them with bermuda shorts in the summer, and comfortable jeans in the winter.  Consider my job entails pushing a wheelchair, pushing heavy hand carts, crawling under and behind vending machines, picking heavy things up and putting them on carts.  unloading pallets of merchandise, reaching, pulling trays out of vending machines, taking heavy things off of carts and putting them onto racks, and you get the idea.

Second, I think my actions ought to exhibit my faith.  If you can't tell I'm a Christian by my actions and reactions, my response to the hurting, etc... then I'm failing.   

So, we came home.  It was raining pretty hard.  Ron says I have tomorrow off, and we'll work Friday and Saturday.   He wants to do another truck day on Saturday. 

Ron also agreed it is foolish to pay his friend $20 plus buy him a meal, just for giving us a ride.  We're taking Metrolift out to eat tomorrow at a place that appears very promising. 

Besides, I need a date night.  We never go out at night, the trips are terrible, but a brunch date works just as well. 

We plan to go to House of Fries.  I saw it recently and have a very strong desire to try it.  Reviews are excellent.  Menu is very reasonable and appealing.  It's on a bus line even.  Yum. 

I'll let you know how it tastes.




Tuesday, September 16, 2014

"It has a black cowboy"

We had our truck day yesterday.  Overall, it went pretty well save a few issues: 

1.  Sandwich guy was late so we had to come in on our day off, today, to get the delivery and stock.  However, it did give me the chance to realize business is about the same, regardless of who supposedly showed up over the weekend.  No worries about getting wiped out- at least not yet.  Things will get busy as we approach Christmas. 

2.  I'm very glad we have help - someone with a truck.  However, he did not tell Ron he had parked all the way across the parking lot and walked over, instead of pulling up outside like he usually does. 

The cart attendant brought the flatbed out the exit door, and when I called Ron to come over the guy took his time, clowning around, pushing the wheelchair in circles.  The cart attendant had a lot of work to do.  When he realized our driver didn't even have a vehicle nearby,  he left (rightly so). 

Later Ron asked why I "had" to load the truck by myself (hey, it's exercise).  I said (not knowing the driver was behind me), "He thought ____ was playing games." 

I do, however have fully stocked vending machines.  While I'm a little stiff and certainly well exercised, I'm in fine shape.  The machines look even better. 

I had promised one of the other vending guys I would empty the dumpster if I put any trash into it, and I did so, today.  It's very important for me to keep my word. 

Ron always acts like physical labor is such a big deal, that he's torturing me.  He's not.  I like being active, simple as that. 

I like accomplishing a task, not riding a desk.  While I'd do it if necessary, I'm far happier in my active job. 

No one seems to understand that, except, perhaps, my Dad. 

People are into the "old" thinking that physical labor is bad and hard, office politics and fashion games good.  Not in my universe!  The opposite applies! 

So, work is good.  I got paid too. 

I'm looking into webcams, but I already took my medication.  It's pretty hard to reason. 

I can blog in my sleep, I think. 

I'm debating the purchase of a very cheap, orange "eyeball" design.  I used to call my old webcam "eyeball".  I apparently got rid of it when Dad gave me his old laptop in 2011.  Dad's old computer was stolen in 2012, and the "new to me" laptop came with a basic black and white webcam. 

I'd like a new eyeball, one that's easy to use, interesting in appearance, and cheap.  Walmart has a Logitech for $30 and I'm just - cheap.  From what I can see, though, it does have good reviews.  I need to pray on it. 

Speaking of, I had some problems sleeping.  Firstly, the cats brought home a bug (I heard the proud meow calling us to view the trophy).  It crawled up my leg last night, towards my privates, and woke me up quite abruptly, let me tell you. 

I also thought I heard some music.  A low grade, intermittent, bass noise.  It may or may not exist.  I just hope I can sleep tonight.  I tried to take a nap today and the construction noise (I think) made a rather similar bassy rumble, making sleep impossible. 

I talk about this because I know there's other people out there battling noises that may or may not exist, getting scoffed at by loved ones, and just wanting to do a do-it-yourself lobotomy.  It's not just you.  It might "be in your head" but it's in mine, too.  (((Hugs)))  If this proves ongoing I'll ask Doc to up my Haldol (antipsychotic). 

I have severely curtailed my caffeine usage.  That should help. 

Yesterday was a long day.  I was so hungry I ate a couple protein bars during the day, then a huge glass of milk and a single serving lasagne tv dinner.  I went to bed and didn't sleep well due to the music that may or may not have existed, and the thing running up my leg when I did fall asleep. 

I missed my God Time yesterday, and did it later today. 

We went to work and got our delivery, ensuring that everything looked great.  We left and had a rather long and roundabout ride to Walmart. 

We finally pulled up.  I got out.  A driver pulled up right next to the paratransit van (the short bus) blocking the wheelchair lift.  She was a home care aide, helper for an elderly lady sitting on the bench next to a cart load of groceries. 

The driver got out, stuck her head in the vehicle, and kept yelling "Is she in a scooter?"

I realized she meant "Do you need the lift?" 

"Yes, my husband is in a wheelchair."  Ron says I used my mean voice. 

The rude driver started yelling at me.

Our driver apparently said "I'd better get out there" and exited the van, interposing himself between us.  I walked off, shaking my head, as the driver managed to lower the lift, and Ron, in the limited space available.  

As soon as I got Ron away from that awful woman, I said "I can't believe someone is paying her to take care of that poor old lady." 

That poor old lady. 

People wonder why I don't want a helper - 1.  Gossip.  I don't like people in my business unless invited, for example my blog.  2.  They're not going to love Ron, no matter who they are.  3.  They won't love my cats either. 

I'd rather leave things undone.

So.  Ron wanted to get a new umbrella, he lost his.  I never yell at him for losing things because I do, too. 

I also got some stuff for work.  It's funny how, self employed, the business affects even a trip to Walmart.  The business owes me $16, by the way. 

I also got a package of Stubbs BBQ.  Chopped beef - I figured that's the acid test.  I figured, correctly, that Walmart wouldn't stock crap, either. 

I got the meat (a pound, frozen), an extra bottle of sauce, and some buns.  I made it for dinner.  Ron really enjoyed the meat but says he prefers Kraft Hickory.  OK.  We can do that. 

I loved mine.  It's what I've been seeking.  Finally a decent chopped beef, in Texas. 

"It has a black cowboy on the box" I told Ron "I'm sure it's delicious."  I was right. 

I am a total racist when it comes to BBQ.  I would much rather eat "black" bbq. 

Happily, Stubbs has several frozen BBQ meat entree options.  Including another favorite, pulled pork. 

What else?  Oh, the Olay cleansing cloths have been very nice in the morning.  No reactions, skin looks and feels good. 

I did remember my back brace yesterday so I'm just a little worked, not really hurting.  I plan to eat a lot of protein to help build up those muscles. 

We're off tomorrow.  We may or may not have "heavy downpours due to tropical moisture". 

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Stock

I realized, to my horror, my Breakfast Biscuits may contain nut allergens. 

I know I am allergic to Almonds.... goodbye breakfast biscuits.  I've been giving them out to (nice) drivers. 

I don't want to wake up with a tube down my throat because I had an "episode". 

I woke up pretty early today.  We had to go to Walmart. 

Ron fell and broke his plastic desktop fan.  He loves to lie in the breeze.  Yesterday, we bought a metal fan but it scared Baby Girl.  She wouldn't even go in his room to eat when the fan was running. 

Clearly, we need another fan. 

Ron didn't want to go to church today, so we got up early.  I took my shower (yay!  Quite the job when I'm depressed) and we went to Walmart before it got crazy. 

I did my God Time later, before getting on the computer. 

I took Ron over to the fan section (pretty sparse these days!) and he selected a stand fan.  I reminded him he had broken a lot in the past, by falling on them. 

"That was when I had all the blackouts" he replied.  "I'll be OK now."  He thanked me for making "the video" (a one minute clip of Ron in full blackout, verbally abusive, glory.  He refers to me as a "stupid r*tarded b*tch" at one point.)  Apparently it has worked as I hoped. 

[shrug]  No more blackouts at any rate.  He knows I will make another one and I have told him I'll put it public if I do.  Would I?  I don't know. 

So, we got the stand fan.  He likes it.  Most importantly, so do the cats.  He plans to keep the noisy fan. 

I got Ron parked up front and looked around a bit.  I found myself in the skincare section. 

You might want to skip this if you aren't interested in skincare. 

I wash with acne soap and water.  I take vitamin A & E.  That is the extent of my skincare.  If I don't take the vitamins, I get acne.  I get skin infections (not on my face).  They hurt, look bad, and can scar. 

Most of skincare, as I've seen it, is getting the precious moisture to the skin.  I have very oily skin.  Even now.  I remember looking at my Dad, about 70.  Only now would I consider his skin "normal".  I don't really need moisture! 

I do like a good exfoliating now and then... so I picked up a small sample of the St Ives Apricot scrub.  I didn't want another big tube languishing in the shower.  I'll get a couple good treatments out of this one. 

I spent a lot of time looking at skin cleansers.  Walmart used to have an excellent, dry, disposable, skin cloth.  They came in 30-packs.  I'd wet it and rub it together to get a lather, then use it on my skin.  They stopped making it several years ago.  Now Walmart just does the wet cloths, which don't work for me. 

However, it appears Olay makes the cloths now.  I bought a package.  I didn't realize I'd bought the refill size, but I still had one of my old Walmart containers at home.  I'll let you know how I like it, tomorrow.

Last but not least, I found some Pond's Dark Spot cream.  I looked at the different dark spot creams.  I have a small dark spot above my right eye.  Actually, I think it's sun damage, as it's a little rough-feeling.

I noticed all the dark spot formulas had niacinamide, B-3, in them.

"Why" I thought "Put it on my skin when I can get it in the skin?"

I decided to buy some B-vitamins.  I've learned an important lesson: don't put them in the pill organizer.  Oh, they create the most awful stench of B-yuck.  I'll keep them segregated in their own bottle.

They won't hurt, that's for sure.

I did buy a sample bottle of the Pond's stuff.  I haven't decided if I like it.  My fingertips felt nice after applying it.

I guess, if nothing else, I could use it as a hand cream!

Tomorrow will be truck day for us.  I'll go to work, stock, get our delivery, stock (notice a theme? - grin).  We will go to the warehouse and get more - stock.  The nice man will load it into the truck.  I will unload the truck when we get to work, take it inside, stock (!), and put away the rest.

It'll be a good workout, that's for sure.

I'm going to need those vitamins!

Have a good one - I'm praying for you daily.  ((((Hugs))))

Help this migraine!

"Lord" I begged a few days ago, while lying in bed "Please help this migraine."

I had a thought.  Help it what?  

I had to laugh at the image of praying to make the migraine stronger.  I thought it was very funny at the time.

Tonight I told Ron "Dad's praying for your neuropathy"  I started laughing at the thought of Dad praying for worsening neuropathy and explained myself to Ron.  He laughed too.

Maybe it's our own special weirdness.  

Today was pretty quiet.  We went to Walmart and came home, then we went to Carl's Jr and home.  I took a nap.

Things look to be getting very busy at work soon, so I'm trying to rest up and take care of myself.   Am I worried?  No.

We had about this amount of customers before, 13 years ago.  We managed that and a full time deli on top.  Now we're "just" vending which keeps us plenty busy.  Worst case we can hire a part time, driving, helper.

Ideally, if we did that, I would hire someone with a disability. 

I haven't heard anything from Austin (our management) about the request for a new deli, so I assume the answer is no.  At any rate, God let me know the fix is in.  I just need to trust.  I need to disavow worry.  I'm doing that.

While at Walmart, I bought Ron socks.  He likes them.  I got some cotton blend crew socks, and some thicker cushion crews.  All black.

Ron once went to his chiropractor wearing one blue sock and one black sock.  The doctor never let me forget it.

If Ron looks bad it reflects on me, I told him, as a "bad caregiver".  It's also a "bad wife" issue too.  So, I asked, could he please let me get him some new socks?

In that context, he was delighted to oblige.  Dad thought it was a little manipulative.  I don't think so.  It's true.

As it gets colder I need to get him some nice wool socks.  He had some last year but they were getting holey.  He loved them, so I know he'll enjoy them.

I don't mind spending money on someone if they're going to enjoy it.  Ron always pays me back, anyway.

I suspect one of my love languages is gift giving.  I love to give things to people.

I don't care so much about getting things, unless it's Bibles for handout, in which case you're going to see some real excitement!   I mentioned this on my wall in case anyone wanted to get me a birthday present.

I don't need to ask for Bibles.  God has always provided.  I've gotten down to giving away a personal Bible, which I don't regret one bit, but I've never been "out" of Bibles.

But!  If someone wanted to get me a present, I'd most enjoy some Bibles.  :)  That's all.

I'll stop there lest I sound "ungrateful".

I don't really see a need to surround myself with things.  Like I told Dad "I love my $20 titanium wedding ring.  Anyone can see it is not pawnable."  He laughed.

[admiring my ring]

I am thinking about getting a webcam so I can do video blogs again.

Full color - that sounds inappropriate.  I hope you understand.

I am pretty medicated today.

Torbie has been sleeping with me.  I'm still depressed but not horribly so.




It's not your business!

I started using henna on my hair several months ago.  At the time, I believed it was temporary.  I wouldn't have used it if I knew it was permanent.  I got a nice deep auburn. 

However, I had to keep maintaining the treatments, which involved me sitting around for hours on end, on my day off, my head full of green glop. 

I also noticed all the other brunette "rebels" who had colored their hair auburn.  I was starting to feel like a lemming.  I've always sworn I wouldn't be the woman who vainly colored her hair for fashion, to match the crowd, to assimilate, and to cover oh horror the gray. 

Yet I was. 

I decided to stop.  It's growing out, pretty quickly.  I will have brown/gray hair with auburn ends, for a few years, assuming we don't get raptured first (assuming I don't cut it, either). 

I'm sure some people will be disappointed, because "Oh, it looked so cute".  Hey, I have limited energy.  I certainly don't want to spend it on my hair.  Half the time, when I'm depressed, I'm doing great just to wash it. 

I also had another encounter the other day.  I approached the van (it's always the big vans and never the contracted cab drivers) and she squinted at me.  "You his wife?" 

"Yes" I replied.  "22 years.  I got new glasses, maybe that's what had you confused." 

"Oh!" She replied accusingly.  "You colored your hair!  You grew your hair!  You gained weight... why did you gain..."

"Stop!" I put up my hand.  "Don't make me call in on you like I did the other driver." 

"But you gained weight..." she whined. 

How is that her business?  Any driver's business?  She's not buying the gas, and this woman was not slim, either. 

"I had a driver" I began warningly "Who asked me a lot of very rude and intrusive questions about my weight."  I adopted a mocking, derisive tone.  "Why'd you get fat?  You're so fat!  Oh, you look terrible!"   I resumed my normal tone.  "I kept asking her to stop, and she didn't.  It was very rude and inappropriate so I called in (a complaint) on her.  Don't make me do that to you."

"But you look so different"  she whined. 

"It's not your business why I gained the weight." I replied.  "But I'll tell you: I have all kinds of crazy on board.  My medication makes me gain weight.  But if you mention it again in front of me or my husband I will call in a report.  Ron gets very upset.."  I let her assume I meant, Ron gets upset at the driver, when in actuality I get the tirade (even though I have maintained my weight for over a year while losing one and a half clothing sizes). 

She shut up, got Ron loaded, and we left. 

Later on, the GPS told her to turn left.  It's a lot faster if the driver goes straight.  Ron suggested she go straight but she turned - I think to spite me. 

A few hours later, Ron mentioned the incident to another driver, who wondered why the driver wouldn't listen to Ron's directions.  I briefly (stupid!) mentioned the weight incident, to the horror of our current driver. 

"She said what?"

Ron got pretty upset and has been mentioning it to me "If you weren't fat they wouldn't bother you."

Yes, they would.  When I lost weight I had to endure long, ignorant, interrogations on how I had lost the weight.  One driver thought she just had to avoid "white" foods (white rice, bread, etc) to adhere to a low carb lifestyle.  Other times I would explain the details of low carb dieting for half an hour and they still didn't understand.  It was very tiring. 

Someone suggested I just say I have been "working out more", which, if I do lose weight, I'll say. 

They want to interrogate me when I lose weight.  To see how I did it and maybe they can emulate. 

They want to interrogate me when I gain weight; I suppose, to see how I did it and maybe avoid it. 

Neither is their right or business to ask.  

It's common sense, people.  Calories in, calories, out. 

Unless you take metabolism-screwing mood stabilizers and antipsychotics.