Sunday, November 29, 2015

They'd probably stone you.

I don't know about you, but when someone wants me to like someone - desperately wants me to do so, I tend to put my hackles up.  I approach the meetings with resentment and trepidation.  I resist, firmly, the "You have to like them you're going to be such good friends". 

The last time it happened, I didn't like the person on first meeting, but tried to give them a chance.  In the course of our very brief interaction, I shared some mildly personal information and tried to be sympathetic to their plight. 

Subsequent events over the next few days confirmed my suspicion that said person was a drama-seeker.  They, in fact, kept trying to suck me into their dramas.  I was pretty upset.  I don't know you, I have my own problems.  I'm not going to nursemaid you.  I don't care.  The issues they had were fairly typical for someone of their age, but try to tell them that. 

At the time I felt I had much larger issues, I sure didn't have any energy or empathy left over for petty stuff. 

Our driver will often talk about introducing us to his women and I always think that will end badly, but he never does. 

If you want me to like someone (not that many do), introduce me and let them make an impression.  Either I'll like them, or I won't, but let me draw my own conclusions based on their behavior. 

I am sick of the media and their muslim apologists.  They keep trying to present the muslim as a tragic, persecuted, victim.  There's a story every day. 

My experience of islam can be more accurately defined by my best friend's abusive father.  By the driver who literally threw Ron's wheelchair in the driveway, having a tantrum because I chose to ride in the front seat (first come, first served, per transit policies) and refused to stay where he put me after he moved my purse.  Courteous men of any nationality know: you don't move a strange woman's purse unless she hands it to you and makes a request.   You certainly don't throw someone's wheelchair in the driveway, for any provocation.  I believe he was fired for that. 

I have had many other experiences.  You may not know, but many muslim men become cab drivers in Houston.  Most of them have been rude, haughty, and impatient.  I didn't feel safe riding with them, either. 

You're not impressing me with your behavior.  So, in my experience, muslim men have been tyrannical control freaks.  Ron was witnessing to one, a "nice" guy, lately, an "apostate" no less, the man got upset because Ron was talking about Jesus, and shouted at him to stop.  Ron's kind of unstoppable when he gets going. 

The atheists, agnostics, and backslidden Christians couldn't care less when Ron gets going.  They usually laugh at him, or ask a few questions to see just how crazy he runs. 

The other problem, as I see it: freedom of religion.  That means I am free to worship as I choose.  I can do my God Time at home or have it in the park.  I can hand out Bibles, or donate to a ministry that does so.  All those mysterious "new" women in the getup (veiled and robed) at my local  Walmart are free to prance around in America, speaking Arabic and wearing their tents.  America's a tolerant society. 

However, the muslim culture is not:
Qur'an 2:191-193,

"And kill them wherever you find them, and turn them out from where they have turned you out. And Al-Fitnah [disbelief or unrest] is worse than killing...

"...but if they desist, then lo! allah is forgiving and merciful. And fight them until there is no more Fitnah [disbelief and worshipping of others along with allah] and worship is for allah alone."

Abdullah Yusuf Ali,
The Holy Qur'an (1934):
"But when the forbidden months are past,
then fight and slay the Pagans wherever ye find them,
and seize them, beleaguer them, and lie in wait for them in every stratagem (of war);
but if they repent, and establish regular prayers and practise regular charity, then open the way for them:
for allah is Oft-forgiving, Most Merciful."

What are my duties as a Christian?  I'm supposed to love them, pray for them.  Do good for them when I can (but not in a way that supports, I believe, islam).  As a Christian, a muslim is free to live in my country as long as they are a contributing member of society.  Don't steal, don't murder, don't beat your wife or butcher your little girls.  We don't charge special taxes for those of other faiths.  However, in islam, a Jew or Christian must pay 50% of their wages to islam, in order to remain alive and unmolested.  That's just the last sentence covered. 

I think the "kill everyone, in any way possible" sentence is pretty clear. 

I spoke to a Christian woman from Sudan.  We were talking about the Bible Handouts and she said they'd never be permitted "back home".  "Because I hand out Bibles?" I asked. 

"Well, that" she said "And I can see your legs."  I was wearing very modest Bermuda shorts, covering me to the knee.  They were loose fitting, at that.  "They'd probably stone you." 

That pretty much said it all, to me. 

Saturday, November 28, 2015

Feathers on a stick

What did I do yesterday?  Depressed, went to work anyway.  I did everything except fill the nickels in my busiest snack machine.  My customers are going to be very unhappy about that. 

Well, I can't do anything about it now.  I went home and took a nap (yes!), then Ron and I went to Walmart. 

1.  I needed my medication. 
2.  Biscuit can always use more canned food. 
3.  Might as well check out the specials. 

I saw a couple things I might have been interested in: a button up fleece shirt (not the sweatshirt fabric, but the other kind) - but I already have 2, and it's just not that cold in Houston.  I also saw a thermal legging/top set, pretty cute, but nothing in my size.  All the colors were pretty sold out but the coral, which didn't seem to get anyone excited.  I even looked for my size in the coral.  Nope. 

Ah, well.  I mainly bought some food, a pot, the num-nums for Biscuit, and a purse.  This one is actually a crossbody purse, which I've been seeking.  It's big enough to hold my Kindle but not so big it looks like luggage.  I'm happy.  I already waterproofed it. 

The pharmacist "had" to talk to me because they changed the supplier on the Wellbutrin, which I already knew.  I said it gave me far fewer headaches than the larger, pink, tablets.  He was happy to hear that. 

We came home, I ate some pizza, and watched some TV.  Ron got an irate phone call from a pregnant woman who lost some money on the bill changer.  I could hear her shouting from the other room.  Then I went to bed. 

This morning I woke up to a drizzly cold rain.  I had planned to get up and go to the pet store.  They're having a sale on Christmas toys for pets - and our gang love the "feathers on a stick" toy.  It looks like s small feather duster.  Ron loves it because it is an easy toy for him to manipulate and he can feel them "jerk" as they attack it. 

I decided to stay home. 

After much debate, I bought myself one of the Amazon Fire $35 tablets.  I also got some memory and a "kid" case.  I figure it's a good idea to get something easy to grip, due to my occasional butterfingers.  I have wi-fi now, it should be easy to use.  It should arrive in about a month. 

I watched some TV and called Dad.  He is happy to hear Ron is figuring out portion control, and that it takes the body 90 minutes to reach the peak "drunk".  Ron would slam back several drinks in that time frame, trying to "tune out". 

It's funny, my parents (all 3 of them) were worried I would develop a drinking problem.  Instead, I married one. 

3 parents of course being biological mom, adoptive mom, and my Dad.  They seem to be doing well.  Dad is considering selling the time-share. 

Ron's reading a book about some couple vacationing in Barbados.  "Do people really have leather luggage?"  Yes, I told him, they do.  I think we still have Ron's old vinyl suitcase running around here somewhere.  It didn't even have wheels. 

If I would better one muscle group, it would be my forearms.  I think they could use some work.  I think every other group is in pretty good condition.  My arms sure got a good workout on that old suitcase! 

Anyway, that's it for now.  Still depressed, still fighting it. 

Thursday, November 26, 2015

Girl Scout Days

Yesterday we did truck day.  We parked at work, the pickup truck (I wasn't driving) loaded with merchandise.... and they were waxing in front of my vending machines. 

Now, something like that, I can take a couple of approaches. 
1.  Get a typical attitude "Y'all ruining my business.  You need to stop.  I have to make a living." 
2.  Go home.  [snort]  Tempted, though. 
3.  "Hi, I'm here, how can we work this out?  I know you need to do this, but I need to do that, if at all possible.  At the very least I need access to my stockroom, can we do that?" 

I took approach #3, and was not only able to access the stockroom, but stock the vending machines as well.  I call that a win. 

They did rush us at the end, though.  'You're about done, right?"  "Almost done?"  Etc.  But I understood THEY had work, just like I had, and we got out early. 

I hope my God time has made me a more sensitive and empathetic person.  I like to think it has.  They were smiling and pleasant, so they must have been satisfied. 

We came home, and I was actually able to take a nap.  I was thrilled.  #6's kids are out of school all this week. 

Now, it didn't work out to nap today, but I was still happy.

I debated checking my email, and decided to wait until today.  I was waiting to hear back from "The Big Boss". 

We have two directly above us, then the big boss above them.  Since Ron skipped the conference, he has to make it up somehow.  I submitted some ideas. 

I was worried he would say "No" and make us do something more complex, but he approved it.  Yay. 

One of them: take a CPR course, which I feel will actually serve the customers in the unlikely event someone has a problem in the cafeteria, while we're working. 

Also on the "to do" list, repair some siding (!) yet again, this time on the north side of the house.  It is cosmetic, but apparently a Very  Big Deal to the insurance company.  I mean, really?  You have nothing better to do? 

Not, Ron and I think, that they will ever pay any claims anyway.  Why would they?  It's really their job to get out of paying claims, when you think about it. 

 That, and the fact they change their name every year or so, have made us lose faith. 

My anxiety hasn't been as bad, amusingly enough, since I actually had things to worry about.

We were also contacted by the water department.  Apparently people are going around, banging on doors, saying they have to test the water from the taps.  What a great way to survey houses for future burglary.  The only people in my house are the ones I call. 

They are coming back a few days after the "water test" and claiming the water is grossly polluted, and selling a very expensive water filtration system. 

Years ago, a young man banged on my door, said he was doing an audit for energy efficient appliances, I "had" to let him into do an inspection, so he could suggest alternatives.  I told him, very politely, to go away.  He was shocked.  I don't know why. 

Why would I ever let a strange person into my home so they could evaluate me for a robbery? 

Lest I be accused of racism, my handyman is black, and very good at his job.  At his wages, he doesn't need to rob! 

At any rate, I don't worry about my water quality.  I never have since my Girl Scout days.  I enjoyed them, at least in Virginia. 

One time, they took us to the water treatment plant.  The manager did an excellent, and interesting, job of explaining all the steps they took to ensure I had clean water.  And I believe them. 

Now and again, I have mentioned a broken pipe or something to the water company, but that's about the extent of our interaction.  I read the water quality reports.  Ron has a faucet filter in addition to that, but I know I am blessed with potable water. 

So, on that front things are good. 

The cats are doing well. Biscuit remains the charmer, with Torbie in position #2.  Gravy's third, and Baby Girl is last.  She just wants to love us on her terms, not ours. 

Me, I like a hug now and then.  The boys are good for that.  I'm glad they're around. 

Today, I slept as late as I could and did my God Time, shower, and a little TV.  I tried to take a nap but I was too wound up on caffeine. 

I watched the first Hobbit movie, and Ron played a "funny" recording made 20 years ago.  I think it was Chris Rock.  I don't really find "black" humor, funny. 

Now, years ago I heard a very funny joke by a white comedian: What's the difference between a black boyfriend, and a white one?  The white guy pays the bills. 

Ha ha ha.  Me, I've only had Ron, who's black, and pays all the bills. 

Ron was disappointed I wasn't rolling on the floor, but I just don't find hostile racial/sex humor funny.  He records things, keeps hoping I will like them, I don't, he's disappointed. 

Well, I'm not going to lie.  That's one reason I don't watch sitcoms, I don't find them funny.  A lot of the humor is hostile or sex jokes. 

I enjoy my love life, with my husband, but I don't need to run around making jokes about it, constantly. 

Here's our only real joke:
Ron brags that I call him "The minute man".  The person starts to giggle. 
"Because I'm ready in a minute!" 
"No, because you're done in a minute!" 

(He's not).  That's it. 

Everyone always wants to know what you ate for Thanksgiving.  I had two giant handfuls of medication!  My, what a hearty meal they made. 

Then I had some leftover pizza.  Ron had some chicken/sausage gumbo. 

It's been my experience that those from SE Louisiana prefer an aquatic gumbo, all kinds of fish and seafood.  Those from NW Louisiana prefer a chicken and sausage with dark roux. 

We have, not one, but two, delicious "TV Dinner" gumbos in Ron's favorite style.  I bought him four and he ate one today for his Thanksgiving meal. 

I had the pizza.  I'm depressed anyway, I didn't feel cheated. 

I do wonder why I got one with sausage.  It doesn't always agree. 

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Barf for Mommy

Another day, another headache.  I still did my God Time and shower, and went to Walmart.  I really don't want to shop later in the week! 

I got Biscuit some new cat food, which he loves.  Since they all like to nibble at the canned food, I try to get the larger (5 ounce) cans.  I gave them 3 cans yesterday, total, and Biscuit got sick.  3, clearly, is one too many. 

Poor Biscuit just runs a little pukey.  I wonder sometimes if that's why they gave the kittens up - rather, dumped them in the woods next to a very busy street.  Pretty much a death sentence, that.  At least until I came along. 

Biscuit came running for me, like a long-lost lover.  He climbed me like a tree, meowing and purring in my ear as I laughed and giggled.  Gravy was more shy, hiding in the bushes and howling at me until I coaxed him out.  He then decided to trip me, repeatedly, as I walked to the bus stop. 

I had a huge sack of Bibles on my arm, I was committed - so I went and did the Bible Handout, worried about the little guys (I didn't know their sex yet), would get killed or hurt.  They had actually tried to ride the bus, but the driver fluttered the doors at them and chased them off. 

When I came back, that woman was kicking them in the head, they found my hamburger, and the rest is history.  Here I sit at my chair with Biscuit on my desk, staring at me adoringly as he purrs. 

So he vomits, a couple times a week.  Some cats have issues.  You don't kill them for it!  I just pet him and tell him it's OK, barf for Mommy.  I did that with Bubba, too (the beautiful solid black cat in my photo album).  Bubba was a lot pukier than Biscuit. 

I have very simple, inexpensive, furniture.  I'm happy with that.  I don't mind claw marks.  It just means they want to hang out with me. 

Just this week, the cats figured out they get lots of attention from me if they get up on my computer desk while I'm online.  Biscuit is up here right now, gazing at me with his beautiful light green eyes.  Torbie is really bad about sitting in front of my monitor. 

So, we got our Walmart done.  Ron wants gumbo for Thanksgiving, and loves a particular frozen gumbo "dinner", so we got him 4 of those.  He also wants me to make him some stuffing.  I got the ingredients for that. 

This week's headaches have given me a good opportunity to play "Take some pepto with the NSAID" whenever I take my headache pills (generic Excedrin), which has been pretty often.  I'm glad I take Milk Thistle supplements for my liver! 

My stomach has been fine, and if I had taken what I had, before, it would be pretty unhappy. 

I used to eat when I was hungry, now I eat to accommodate my medication.  Do I have enough fat?  Protein?  It's time for my meds, need to eat even if I'm not hungry.  Fruit, salads, etc. generally have bad results.  Maybe that's one reason people on lithium gain weight.  We have to eat pretty heavy meals when we take our meds or we get sick.  I know I do. 

So, we came home, and I took a nap.  The kids next door (#6) are out of school this week, but I have managed to get a nap both days (Monday and today).  I was pretty thrilled. 

I got up, did some organizing (I don't need to take out the trash tonight), and did up some pills.  I needed to put some new vitamins/supplements into my pills-of-the-week.  I had run out of multivitamins.  I had also read selenium may be helpful for depression, so I got some.  It was cheap.  We'll see.  I also got some flax oil. 

Pretty soon our ride came.  Ron wanted to go to the mall and get some teriyaki chicken, and burritos.  He likes to stock up and nibble for a few days.  I hate to go, but I will. 

He was very appreciative I did. 

The Chick-fil-a was open, so I had a chicken club, fruit salad (pretty daring for me, with my meds), and diet soda.  I ate at home and took a whole day's worth of medication.  I hadn't been able to take my morning stuff due to the headache (I will vomit!).  

I was a little nervous about the fruit salad, but I need to get more variety in my diet.  I want to eat better, less processed, foods.  I sound like a commercial. 

Anyway, on two occasions I had a grilled chicken salad, with my lithium, when I was taking HALF the dose I do now - and both times I became violently ill.  I felt horribly queasy, and had stabbing sharp pains.  I literally felt as though I was being stabbed to death. 

Horrid.  I had a natural concern I might have a repeat.  So, I had a couple spoonfuls of full fat cottage cheese and a couple potato chips.  I figured the additional fat and protein would help; and I'm fine, so it worked. 

I will have to experiment and find out if I can do "just" a grilled chicken club and fruit salad, with my meds.  However, the "bad reactions" are pretty instructive and trust me, I don't want a repeat! 


I'm dead without my meds, but sometimes I feel like they're killing me! 

Our return trip arrived early so we went home when he called.  He "should" have waited but Ron and I are not one to turn away a sure-bet ride home. 

We ate at home, Ron thanked me repeatedly, and I reminded Gravy he had a num-num of his own. 

My vet's going to be thrilled they're eating some canned food.  I think even Torbie partakes, but secretly. 

I bought the "wrong" flavor today, it was mixed in with Classic Seafood Entrée, but they all adore it, so it's on the buy list now.  I like to mix up flavors and brands, remember when they had the scandal with the contaminated cat food a few years back?  Cats were dying left and right of kidney failure. 

I can't imagine anything worse than 4 dead cats, all in one day. 

It was bad enough I saw a black cat, run over by a car (lying dead in the median) today. 

Monday, November 23, 2015

Kick it!

I woke up at 3 AM, with a migraine, and went to work.  Our driver picked up another employee at our facility, on the way.  I didn't like him much. 

1.  Greeted me with "I know where you live now".  Dispatch apparently told him our location when he called to check on the ride. 
2.  Throughout the day, I kept running into him, the man had NO concept of personal space.  At least as applied to me.  He stayed at a normal distance from the other vendors (men), but stood very close to me, within 6 inches.  I had to keep moving away, and we had plenty of space. 

Do I think he was "into" me?  No.  With one exception (when my breasts got dramatically larger after Doc increased my antipsychotic, one guy was gaping a bit), I have never really felt the other guys at work were inappropriate.  I did have to ask someone's friend to explain "personal space" "before I made a complaint".  The friend did so and everything remained genial. 

The guy seems normal and is still working at the facility, so I assume he had a stroke, which caused some brain damage, which causes the inappropriate behavior.  But I really hate accommodating weird people.  I have enough weird in my life already! 

Certain jobs, however, attract special people.  Me, for instance, so I can't really complain. 

The other vendor kept asking very personal financial questions and trying to tell me I "had" to apply for disability.  I feel fine admitting I make about the income limit for someone on disability, so I wouldn't qualify.  I told him that.  He basically said to work the numbers so I would. 

Not real keen on that.  There's someone out there who really needs it.  Ron takes care of me. 

Now, if Ron died, and I felt God was leading me to do it, I would apply, but the requirements are pretty stringent.  Basically, all told, you cannot make more than a thousand dollars a month, plus the $700 payment.  So, I'm limited to $1700 a month.   Now, Ron has a policy that is supposed to pay off the house.  If that happened, I would need about $1200 to cover expenses.  I could JUST cover expenses with a small emergency hedge. 

If the policy didn't pay, I would need about $1600 to cover expenses, which would make living-on-disability really tight. 

Or I could just work like you do and make what I make.  I'd rather do the latter. 

There's a Bible verse in Psalm 37,
I have never seen the righteous forsaken, or his children begging bread. 

The nice thing about my life, I've already been through hell.  Facing eviction?  Been there.  Laid off with loved one in ICU?  Done that, facing eviction no less.  Unemployed and living on my last $20?  Yup.  Fired right before Christmas?  Not a good memory.  1997.

God sustained me through all of it.  Things have been so bad, at times, for example, my bathroom wall falling in... that I couldn't see how He could fix it, but He did.  God is there. 

The road may not be pretty, or fun, or pleasant, but there's an end to the road and it's a better place.  A place of safety and security if nothing else. 

So, I don't worry about getting disability.  In fact, according to Social Security regulations, I am NOT disabled, because I can make what I do.  That's a very pleasant thought. 

Needless to say, the anxiety has been a little better lately. 

I was really happy to see my favorite deliveryman from Dr Pepper.  I like him a lot. 

I would hope, when I die, my service providers will say that I was always kind, and treated them with respect and appreciation.  I would be very upset if they didn't.  I don't talk about some things, I figure God will "out" them at the proper time if He feels the need.  But I do like to think of myself as a kind and appreciative person. 

Unless you are Weird Guy on paratransit.  [snort]

I got my other delivery - we only got a half order of sandwiches.  I figure with Thanksgiving, and slower sandwich sales, we might as well.  Sales should skyrocket the next week or so, but not this one. 

Chips, pastry - pastry!  They are insane for pastry, I can't keep up.  Cookies and all remain steady.  So they like what I'm putting out. 

Oh, funny: Today at work a customer came to me with a mock complaint, because I'm the only one who sells the item she likes.  I bent over, stuck my butt out, and slapped it.  "Go on!" I encouraged her "Kick it!"  She looked at me and laughed.  "Come on!" I incited "You know you want to do it!"  We had a good laugh. 

I think, hope, pray, I might finally be getting manic.  God knows I deserve a small, well-managed one. 

Today's headache was horrific.  I got everything done and we came home. 

I managed to get a nap, the kids in #6 woke me up, playing in the yard.  That's why people live in the country.  Well, those who can. 

I did some organizing, ate a small bag of pretzels.  I am always craving salt.  I should probably put some salt tablets into my pills-of-the-week. 

That, and get some more tablets!   I kept eating painkillers today, I worry I am damaging my body, but all my blood test numbers come back fine. 

You can bet I am getting plenty of Vitamin C, though. 

Sunday, November 22, 2015

Saturday night shift

In Mexican culture, the baby's first birthday is a huge event.  I have endured several of them thanks to #6. 

Don't get me wrong, I am glad their kids are alive and healthy.  It is, however, tremendously exhausting to hear the party ongoing when I just want to sleep. 

So, I keep a calendar.  Basically, "we" have most of our parties in March, October, one in November (the 21st!) and the Christmas Eve party.  I'll talk about that one in a month. 

Anyway, we needed to work yesterday, and we had a couple of factors:
  • Blue Norther cold front inbound with heavy rain, in the morning.
  • Party at night, for certain. 
We decided to go to the warehouse later in the afternoon, and then work.  It's funny; when I was a retail slave for someone else, the only thing I wanted was a 9-5, Monday to Friday job.  Now I find myself enjoying my Saturday night shift.   I prefer working weekends. 

I had some gapes and double takes at work, but overall they were happy to see me/us.  Like I said, I enjoy the work, and they support us.  They should hear me say thank you now and again. 

I did have one problem.  Ron's wheelchair, at work, is very old.  The vinyl on the back had a tear at the bottom of the pocket.  Ron likes to keep things in the pocket, but they kept falling out. 

You can imagine the scene: Ron is lying on the floor, duct-taping the wheelchair, which is flipped over.  The customer gave me a nasty look, and moved towards Ron. 

"Did you fall, buddy?"  Another glare in my direction. 

"Actually," I said, "I flipped it over."  For Ron, of course, but I got an even nastier look.  "It was EMPTY!"

The man left, convinced I had turned Ron out onto the floor.  Ah, no.  If I'm going to hurt him I won't do anything overt or obvious.  I would tell him the store was out of his favorite TV dinner.  I wouldn't pretreat the stains when I did his laundry.  Stuff like that.  I wouldn't throw him out on the floor in front of all the postal workers. 

Before that point, however, I would take some good long breaks. 

Anyway, other than that it was pretty uneventful, except for the nearly empty vending machines.  It was a little disturbing.  I doubt we can take much time off in the next month.  I had better add some olive leaf to my vitamin regimen when I do up my pills later. 

Doing up my pills means taking 4 lithium and a Depakote,  that goes in the PM section for 2 weeks.  AM's are 2 each of Haldol and Wellbutrin.  They even look alike.  Then I add in all the supplements, vitamin A (I am getting some lithium acne on my chest, so I need it), Vitamin E (for my cardiovascular), multi with iron (because I did a food log and I NEVER got enough iron), Cat's Claw (supposed to be good for joints, and immunity - doesn't hurt and joints do seem better - I have some minor arthritis).  You get the idea.  It gets really fun if my hands start shaking.  A couple of times I have dropped the pill organizer on the floor, during.  Agh.  It's one of the few times Ron is on his own, "I'm doing up my pills". 

We finished up, the machines looking a lot better.  I take pride in doing a good job and providing quality service. 

We left, and our friend picked us up.  By now, I figured, the party was in full swing.  We went to a burger place and ate, having a good time.  By the time we came home, the guests were leaving and it felt like the 30's with the wind chill.  We would not have kids screaming outside the bedroom, all
night.  I hope this happens on Christmas eve.  Those parties are horrific. 

I went to bed and woke up with a migraine.  I haven't vomited yet but it's not much fun to be me.  I tried the "take the pepto with the pain reliever" routine and it sure didn't hurt.  I can take something else in about half an hour.  I think I will go with Tylenol.  I already took generic Excedrin, Aspirin 4 hours later (absolutely with some pepto), and probably Tylenol again because I don't want to be up all night from the generic headache pills' caffeine. 

I measured, and my waist is down 3 inches from September.  My hips, an inch and a half.  That explains why my pants are so baggy, lately.  If I can beat the headache I will dig around, because I know I have some smaller sizes running around somewhere. 

I'm also working on some laundry.  I dumped a half-gallon of iced tea on my carpet yesterday and I had to mop it up with my bath towel.  What an awful mess. 

Ron's fine.  He's still got some bleeding but the doctors have thrown up their hands.  If it gets bad, he's to take a course of steroids.  At least it isn't cancer. 

He likes eating some burritos I bought when I was manic.  When I'm manic, I can buy the strangest things.  I don't like burritos, but I bought them - because I was manic.  I have clothing selections I can tell from a glance - I was manic.  If possible, I usually end up donating whatever it is.  I did paint the bedroom a curry gold when manic, and I do love the color.  I've lived in it for nearly 12 years and enjoy it.  It's very calming to me. 

Not all bad. 

Boy, with Christmas coming, sales through the roof, and what feels like months of depression and anxiety under my belt, I could really use a good mania pretty soon. 

Friday, November 20, 2015

A whole lot about microwaves

I couldn't get the enter key to work on my last attempt. 


So, today was off.  I was pretty depressed, no shower or God Time.  I think sometimes how bad it would be to be a wealthy person with depression.  You wouldn't "need" to work. 

I did get my God time, come to think.  That's about all I did. 

Anyway, we went to Walmart.  We had to buy a microwave for work, and some soda, so not a lot of room for extras.  I filled up the rest of the cart with cat food, mainly.  Biscuit says he likes the Classic Seafood Entrée.  Gravy likes it, too.  Glad I got it. 

Since I've caught nearly all the cats nibbling at the num-num (canned food), I decided to focus on a bigger portion.  The less expensive cans are a larger size, and happily seem OK with my crew. 

I bought some decaf iced tea, etc.  A box of cereal I can consume with my soymilk.  But I didn't get much.  Ron bought 3 pounds, literally, of cat treats. 

I had some fun wrangling the microwave, which isn't heavy.  It's a Rival brand, by the Crock-pot people.  They have stood up (we bought 4) to incredible abuse.  Ron actually set our personal unit on fire with foil-wrapped takeout, and it still works.  Don't try that at your home.  Our boss bought us some commercial units, and they didn't even make it 6 months, but this one's lasted over a year.  I am happy to pay the $50. 

Well, the business bought it, but it still came out of our pockets. 

We came home, I took a nap.  Last night Ron and I had a good talk and have some understanding of each other's viewpoints.  My anxiety level is way down as a result. 

Still depressed, still anxious, but at least not as bad. 

Ron called the handyman to do a tweak on the cat door, so he did.  I modified my privacy screen too.  If I cover the cat door with the blinds, the cats make a lot of noise when they come and go.  But I can't have the windows wide open, either.  I taped some paper up over the panel. 

Blog excluded, I like my privacy. 

"I know how you are about locks"

Ron told me "I know how you are about locks". 

Well, we have a complex relationship. 

I never had a key to my parent's house, up until the day I moved out.  Ron says that is unusual.  The other kids did.  Her argument: "You will lose it".  "We are never gone when you want to come home".  No, but she used to lock me out. 

Another time my Dad gave me a key to "the trunk", I couldn't get it to work, kept telling him, he kept shouting.  I broke the key.  Dad came over shouting because I had broken the key to his first car.  I told him it didn't work.  He's the one who gave me the wrong key. 

After that incident (I was about 7) I was branded as "Bad with locks".  I had a reputation for "losing" things - that weren't lost, but taken from me.  However, rather than address the complex head games at the root of all this, they preferred to say I "lost" them. 

Why is it, when I had adequate storage and study space at school, when I could go in early and work later if needed - I suddenly "kept" all the items I wasn't bringing "home" any more?  And pulled straight A's? 

Good questions.  And people wondered why I never wanted to have children.  Can you imagine having to tell certain parties they would never be alone with my children - ever? 

That's one reason I am so baffled by the seemingly happy family next door.  What is that?  What is it like?  I have no concept.  I know how to front "everything's fine" when I am covered in bruises, my sinuses aching from my suppressed sobs.  I know how to smile brightly and play stupid when someone looks at whatever Ron's done to his head during a blackout.  I know how to act as though I'm not, in fact, suicidal, back when I was. 

Anyway, back to locks.  I did pretty well, living with Ron.  I never lost a house key, misplaced for a few minutes now and then, but that's it.  I keep them on a hook now. 

I never had "work keys" until I went to work for Ron.  I was given, pretty much from day one, a mind-boggling, heavy, key ring, loaded with 2 dozen keys for everything from our freezer, to the main stockroom.  I was also given a Federal Building Security BadgeBetter not lose that! 

A funny thing happened, while I have, on occasion, forgotten my keys at home, I've never lost them.  I install locks, actually, at work.  Ron tells me I do a better job than the repairman, and better yet, I don't cost him $65 either. 

I open and close locks on a regular basis, ongoing.  With the exception of a broken lockbar we haven't had any lock related issues of note.  Even the repairman said he'd never seen that one. 

I guess I do alright with locks, after all. 

Ron's comment?  I always lock doors behind me.  I'm a woman, it's just good common sense.