Cooked brains

Happily, I had a lovely evening.  When Ron has been ugly he tends to retreat to his room for a while.  He did. 

I tended my garden, took the tags of my "new" thrift store clothes, did laundry, and chose a nice (used) book out of my goodie bag.  The used bookstore offers a special of 8 inspirational romance novels for $4.  I can afford that! 

I had a great dinner, some veggie soup and tuna salad, with some low-carb blackberry yogurt for dessert.  It's true, what they say. 

Other people don't have to dictate my day to me.  I decided I'd have a good one and I did. 

Sure, he was ugly, but that's on him.  He also seems to forget, that words said "between us" are recorded by God and will be replayed at the White Throne Judgement one day.  Basically, God reads off your whole life to you, and if you aren't saved, it's hell.  If you are, you may take some of your actions (done in love, for God) to heaven, but many hypocrites will have even their works "burned up". 

Big point there: Every action, word and thought.  Everything I think, speak, and type.  In front of everyone. 

I try to consider that daily.  Yes, I can be spiteful and judgemental.  I don't understand, and I really don't want to understand, the things that make an alcoholic tick.  Maybe I need to work on that; I'll pray on it. 

I get resentful, and have the pity parties I resent him having.  I'm still working out the line between being compassionate, empathetic, and assertive.  

Life is a learning process.  I hope I'm doing alright. 

I know this, I'm not going to throw away my husband because he is broken.  I can choose to have a good, meaningful, life in spite of his illness.  He may treat me how he chooses, and I can treat him how I choose. 

I choose not to be a hater.  I think he's a lot like an injured animal, hit by a car, snapping at the person (me) who is trying to help.  So, for now, I step back and let God work on him. 

God created Ron; God loves Ron a lot more than I can ever guess.  God's got him.  I just need to focus on pleasing God. 

So, I ate my dinner, as Ron stayed in his room.  No, he never wants me to cook for him; even though he says I am a good cook.  He prefers to heat up something out of the freezer. 

That's his choice.  I chose to have a healthy dinner, take my medication, have a nice bubble bath with some rose-scented incense and an inspirational romance novel, and listen to my music. 

I cooked my brains a little (overheated), but I had a great time. 

Now I'll do my God Time and go to bed.  We have to work tomorrow. 

They use bleach on the sheets, don't they?

Heidi, my local family is now in Europe.  I will talk to her when she comes back, or I might just get a week at one of the extended stay motels.  They use bleach on the sheets, I think. 

I have a small emergency fund, so if I'm about to lose it I can:

 1.  Call my sister in Florida - she is itching to get me loose of Ron.  She even investigated a local employment agency for people with mental illness.  She would be happy to buy me a one-way ticket and have me live with her until I got on my feet (not long, I bet). 

2,  I could call my Dad.   I wouldn't want to move back to California but he would help me get my own place, I think. 

3.  Aforementioned aunt and uncle. 

4.  I could call the adult services line and tell them what's going down; see what they advise. 

5.  There is at least one person I could call and spend the night (a married couple). 

6.  Rent a week, at the Rent-a-week motel.  They even have them on the good bus line. 

I absolutely agree, his behavior is completely unacceptable.  However, I feel he's going to have a crisis. 

Today's an example.  I don't know if our friend did it deliberately, but it was telling.  Ron needed to go to Fry's. 

He has fallen on top of his CPU one time too many, and broken the USB.  Chuck told him, OK, I will come meet you this afternoon and take you. 

In the meantime, I, just out of the Starbucks, had a lovely time at Favorite Dollar.  I thought of the various service sector jobs, and I think I'd do pretty well.  I asked God for a sign on job-hunting, and got a "not yet". 

So, when the time comes I'll be out there.  I think I would do well at foodservice, sales, cashier, caregiving, and any kind of heavy working with the public job.  I am a very bubbly extrovert, and I love to help people. 

The other day at Walmart, I got a couple all set up for tomato growing in a large pot, and I don't even work there!  So, a garden center can be added to the list. 

Anyway, I did that, and went over to the Christian bookstore.  They were worried about me, and I let them know what is going on.  They were VERY supportive. 

I checked the vending machine and let Ron know.  He seemed OK, it was about 2.  He mentioned he would like to bring some Sundrop and hand out samples.  I thought it was a great idea. 

So, I hung up and went to the import store.  I had fun, they had some lovely rose incense.  I'm a little retro, I like to burn it during my God Time.  It's certainly Old Testament if nothing else. 

Ron called me and said our friend was coming over, did I want a ride.  I said OK.  My bag was pretty heavy. 

A long walk to the bus stop, and I caught it.  Fed my bus card (the new card has to be removed from the holder, for the reader to process it), and got paid up. 

I have to take multiple buses home on my Day Out.  When I got off the bus I called Ron and told him I had moved.  He was in the truck and had me stay on the line. 

As soon as I got in the cab (it was about 3) Ron was just completely nasty to me.  All the way to Fry's. 

Our friend was like, Ron, cut it out.  He was very irritable, and sulking a lot.  I couldn't figure it out. 

He didn't want to go into the store, but yelled again when I called and asked for clarification.  Even our friend could hear him. 

I told him Ron was in a pissy mood.  He couldn't believe I said it and made me repeat it.   When we got out to the truck again, he mentioned how so many caregivers lose their sprarkle.  I agreed.  I think it was too subtle for Ron. 

Chuck and I were thinking hamburger, but Ron made more rude comments about weight gain and said no.  Came home. 

I was pretty queasy (one reason I wanted to eat!), and I had a ketosis headache.  That's good.  I want to burn some fat. 

Ron immediately went to his room and started drinking.  Ah.  He had probably stayed sober until then. 

When I got up, he sat on the front porch drinking.  Oh, that's my FAVORITE.  

I was pretty disturbed, earlier, when Ron said he wanted sleeping pills.  I told him he couldn't do that with alcohol. 

He wouldn't need to drink, he said.  He just wanted to go to work, come home, and turn off until it was time to work again.  I find that disturbing on so many levels.  I told him when he shuts "The world" out, he is also shutting me out, but that didn't seem to matter. 

Right now I think he's like a car speeding and veering all over the road.  You just know it's about to crash. 

Hopefully someone recognizable will emerge from the wreckage. 

I went thrifting. Got a cute skirt and 2 shorts. While talking to a male cashier, who liked my handmade (by me) cell phone holder, Ron called. A whole lot of talking on his end. I took this away; he will only care if I am the codependent pleaser. Then a lot of talk about his use of time; I told him that was his business, and I won't condone any addictive behavior. He didn't like that and hung up.
Heather

Walked in on him during XXX, made a pass, rejected. Later told me I.was too fat - at size 16. Might have bought it, but still uninterested at size 10 (too much work). I told him I inderstood he didn't love me, that I was a lot less important than drink, porno, and anger at God. Sad.
Heather

Even during the migraine

Last night, I woke up and I realized I was better.  Oh, I spent some time praising God, let me tell you. 

This morning, and most of today, I still battled hideous nausea.  I felt pretty limp. 

Ron woke and and asked me why I was "Acting funny".  I got pretty mad.  It's like he totally forgot, again, that I had a migraine. 

It was bad enough, last night, of all the things he could have eaten for dinner, to heat up a hamburger when I'm queasy.  I suggested, today, that if I ever say "I am queasy" to please eat something out of the package without warming it, like a bag of peanuts.  He got an attitude. 

After he ate the burger, he got upset about something to do with the aluminum can recycling bag.  He banged them around, loudly, for several minutes.  While I had a migraine.  Why?  I never got an answer on that. 

I figured reacting, when he was obviously wasted, was just going to feed more obnoxious behavior.  Then he began cursing me because of the aluminum can bag, while loudly banging it, the overwhelming aroma of smoked meat hanging in the air.   While I had a migraine. 

And he wonders why I was subdued this morning.  Of course, he called it "wierd". 

"Why are you acting wierd today?  What is wrong with you?" 

Well, let's see, if you could BOTHER to remember, I just spent the last 24 hours very sick!  Not only that, the man who swore before God that he'd love and respect me does anything but.....

I simply said I was tired.  He asked if he did something.  I didn't respond.  Then he did the Oh, God, what did I do this time routine - but it was like reading a script and not really caring. 

It's some alcoholic game, and I told him I am tired of playing alcoholic games, with an alcoholic.  I told him he ought to know what he did every second of every day, and I was tired of telling him.  It was some sick game, and I wasn't playing anymore. 

Then he decided, since I wouldn't be his "persecutor", that he didn't do anything wrong.  He actually told me I HAD to videotape him acting up before he would believe it.  He kept telling me I HAD to do it. 

He can just wake up in jail one day, or the hospital, or the infirmary at a jail.  They can tell him what he did, and "prove" it to him. 



I told him I didn't have to do anything, and if he didn't realize he had a problem I had nothing else to say.  I told him I realized that vodka and eating out with friends was more important than my needs, or even paying me. 

I then told him I wished God would let me leave him.  That time has not arrived, yet.  Ranting on Ron's part about being "stuck" with me, and I admittedly made some baiting comments about how he didn't need me in his life.  He didn't want me, that was clear.  Why didn't he just get me out of his life? 

Then he started ranting about me acting "Crazy" (translation = NOT a codependent doormat).  What was wrong with me, blah blah.  Go take a pill. 

If he had ever bothered to ask, with concern, I could have told him that no, I hadn't been able to take my medication for 24 hours due to the nausea.  However, at that very moment I was gagging it down with some plain oatmeal. 

We went to work.  I dealt with the customers.  They avoid Ron.  A pipe broke under the sink and, well, I'll just say I'd never hire the plumber to work in my home.  Come to think of it, he had a rather familiar rosy glow..... 

You know Ron actually asked me to tell him if he starts getting the alcoholic red face?  I wasn't quite sure how to say "You already have it".  It is ironic that I, a complete non-drinker, has a flushed face due to my antidepressant.  I wonder if people think I might drink. 

Anyway, a lot of fumbling around under the sink, not having the tool to shut off the water, etc.  It ended with guys from maintenance and a shop-vac, and our area completely blocked off from the customers.  Happily, the machines were fine. 

They finally cleaned it all up before we left.  I stocked everything.  I am dead serious when I say the ONLY thing selling are those saltine crackers.  Sales are tragic. 

Ron finally deigned to pay me, about when I was preparing to tell him "If I don't get my money today, you'll be going to work by yourself on delivery day".  I thanked him, and said "Remember how angry you got when Mike kept making excuses about why he couldn't pay me?"  I told him I was glad he wasn't that person.  His face twitched.  He was so furious at that man.

If he has to cut my pay, I completely understand.  If he wants more help with the bills, I understand.  I don't understand going crosstown and buying over 20 cans of chilli, buying cases of liquor at the liquor store, and eating out to the tune of over $100 - all in a weeks' time, and saying he didn't have money to pay me. 

I don't make that much money. 

I have a vague feeling I need to write him a letter or something.  Try to make him understand, but what? 

He is stuck in the bottle, having his pity party.  To him, life is dark and miserable. 

Me, I see the good in life.  Even during the migraine, I really enjoyed listening to the doves cooing outside my window. 

Ron wanted to know why I was "acting funny" today. Somewhere between the fact he couldn't bother to remember I had a migraine; cursing me out when I had it; buying vodka but not enough to pay me; told him I wished God would let me leave.

Whining

Nasty migraine today.  AGH.  What a lousy "Day Off".

My favorite was taking the shower, with a bucket in the enclosure with me "Just in case" I couldn't fight the nausea anymore. 

I have to be careful about staying hydrated, or I could get REALLY sick.  Did fine with that, but I'm still not peeing enough.  I need to fix that. 

I also need to go stuff something down my throat so I can take my pills.  Still pretty severely nauseous.  I was doing OK until Ron forgot and mentioned hamburgers. 

On the plus side, I got some great cuddles from Bubba, it was quiet for most of the day, and the old bottle of leftover peppermint shampoo felt pretty nice on my poor head today. 

Laying the Demons to Rest

I'm listening to my favorite song ever, Laying the Demons to Rest, by Theocracy.  Video with lyrics

You will probably be proud of me, today.  Got up, early, early, early.  2 AM God Time is always a little surreal, especially with a diet soda in hand. 

On the way to work, Ron played his talking book.  The "explicit descriptions of sex",part, of his talking book.  I was VERY unhappy. 

I said what I could, but when we got out Ron seemed to enjoy the whole "I'm outrageous, I'm unpredictable" part of his book.  I resolved, then, to NEVER ever, forget my MP3 player again.  If he chooses to do that, I can choose to listen to my music instead of being forced to listen to that. 

Don't get me wrong.  I enjoy sex... in the context of marriage, "Just you and I" enjoying each other kind of way.  I don't want, or need, anything else. 

Even though I was mad at Ron, I still brought him the wheelchair (really tempting to leave it in the stockroom and play dumb).  He asked me what was wrong, and I said I was upset he had played his book.  I told him I felt him reading pornographic descriptions of sex and listening to other women talking nasty, all rated as "Cheating" in my book.  Yes, I was upset, and wouldn't he be if he felt I was cheating on him EVERY DAY? 

He was pretty dismissive.  It really alarmed him when I looked at the bottled soda vendor and started laughing my head off. 

I kept snorting with laughter to the cries of "Did you take your pills today?" and "What is WRONG WITH YOU?"  "You're crazy!"  "Edited for content by Heather"

The machine is notoriously troublesome.  If I told you the details, you wouldn't believe this machine could ever sell a single bottle of soda.  It is NOTORIOUS. 

When filling the change bank today, the coin mechanism ATE an entire roll of dimes and stored them next to the circuit boad.  It's that whacko.  I had to turn it upside down and whack it to get them free, then partially disassemble it to put them in the dime row. 

The coin mech is posessed, I have a piece of paper taped over it to prevent people putting change into the slot.  If they do, it jams and they lose their money.  The price point is $1, and it does accept bills. 

Anyway, someone had drawn a little sketch. on my piece of paper.  It showed a very ill/drunk/goofy looking face.  If the machine had a face, that was it.  I laughed so hard I cried. 

I wish I could meet the artist, so I could give them a free soda.  I tried to explain to Ron, but I think he truly feared I was having some kind of meltdown, he rolled off quickly and locked himself in his stockroom. 

In the meantime, I got 3 deliveries, put them all away, stocked everything, and handed out some of my homemade jam. 

He listened to his book, on headphones, for the ride home. 

Newest Bipolar video

Dude, I have a LOT of videos!

Mojito marmalade

So, being gluttons for punishment we had 2 more trips.  We had the same driver for both trips, and he was so bad one of my neighbors called in a complaint on him to dispatch.  Wow. 

That, to my knowledge, is a first.  He was a little - zippy. 

It's just been a day for wierdness; I had a thread going on a Christian message board (one day I will learn my lesson about message boards, huh?) and it got closed. 

"Getting Ron Some Help" - Hm.  I asked why, we'll see what they say. 

I mean, unless it's my place (here), other people are going to have editorial control.  I remember at the end of the low-carb road, I actually had a moderator go into a post and delete the names of snack foods out of my blog. 

One of the readers had asked about my best sellers.  I don't know why they found that upsetting. 

The nice thing, about this, is objectivity.  Thanks to my medication, I can say, well, Heather, the verbal abuse and all is awfully raw and real.  Maybe a little too painful for them? 

I can also say, they don't like the thread, without immediately arriving at the destination of:  They hate me and they're out to get me. 

We'll see what they say, in the meantime I'll come here. 

So, I basically left you with (opened another window, read the last blog), us coming home from Walmart. 

I took my nap, a good one.  Got up and checked on the garden, looking good, fed and watered the wild birds.  Sat with Ron for a while and listened to the birds (he loves to do that). 

One of the doves has a 4-note call.  I told Ron it sounds like "Come out and PLAY!"  I even got a grin out of him. 

In fact, he was saying it at me later on.  Cute. 

We went to Starbucks with Speedy.  Poor guy had been unemployed for 2 years; so careful about getting us on the van, so reckless driving!  Yikey! 

Funny, you know, when I misspell care-ful, I always type it "caregul"? 

It was hot, in the 80's.  The cucumbers, beans, and tomatoes love it.  The lettuce, not so much.  I'm glad I planted some lettuce on the side yard. 

I'm going to need to eat the lettuce in the main garden, and harvest the mustard greens.  The flea beetles are going to town. 

While checking the mail, I noticed that the people next door had bought their dog one of those large beef bones, about 2 feet long.  It is obviously well-loved.  They didn't do it, until Ron taped that note on the door "Things to chew on, like bones". 

Ron was quiet, pretty civil today.  He offered to carry my canning jars into the house, but I declined.  They were really heavy, and they were glass.  I got that. 

I try to always have a small, light, bag, I can give him.  He feels useful, I get something in the house with no worries. 

I forgot to take my noontime lithium, and got munched pretty badly by depression.  Happily, I was able to remedy that by taking my lithium.  It's easy to get careless, something I can't afford. 

I decided to create a new marmalade.  Mojito. 

I don't drink them, but from what I hear on Facebook everyone else is drinking them.  Good time to add, I don't drink, ever.  You wouldn't, either, if you saw foot long bugs all over the walls, really paranoid and anxious, after one drink. 

Anyway, a mojito is apparently lime and mint and sugar and rum.  Well, I have a big bag of limes.  I have a mint plant out back.  It seemed to be a logical conclusion, that I'd try a mojito marmalade. 

I diced 1 cup of limes, I've got them simmering.  I chopped a handful of fresh mint and added that.  After I simmer this batch, I refrigerate overnight, then warm, add an equal amount sugar, cook until "jelly" stage, and then at the very last minute add more chopped mint, before putting into jars. 

I intend to make 2 batches, one with splenda and pectin, and one with just sugar, fruit, and mint.  I will let you know how it turns out! 

I thought THAT ride was bad!

Today has already been a really wierd day.  I'm a talker, you can see that in my videos. 

When, during every trip today, I'm silent and staring out the window, you know there's problems. 

We had 3 trips, so far, today.  First trip, going to the warehouse.  I needed candy for work. 

I opened the backdoor of the cab, as the front passenger seat was taken.  "Oh, we're going to be sardines!"  - Another passenger in the backseat means Ron and I are crammed in there with her = sardines. 

The front seat passenger began lecturing me about "complaining".  Hello?  Me?  The one who can find something good in even the worst day ever? 

I went and got Ron, stuffed him in the middle seat (he is good about taking that bullet for me - I hate the middle seat), and got in myself.  The woman was STILL raving. 

I could tell Ron was wondering why the driver was going so fast; but it made perfect sense to me as she began raving about Jesus.  Now, I'm pretty "religious", eh? 

But shouting "Praise Him" at the top of her lungs because Ron told the driver he was born blind... OK - I'm going to keep a very low profile.  I won't even get into the Halleujahs.  I am as dead serious as a heart attack. 

I came in for another lecture when I made a passing joke to the driver about "Always looking good" to Ron.  Apparently this woman took it as a slight, that I dared to notice my husband was blind.  I got a big lecture about how he was  far more spiritual and enlightened, more SENSITIVE than the average guy... I had a hard time not laughing but I was scared enough of her to keep it in. 

Sensitive?  NOW I'm laughing.  Spritual?  I should have told her Ron refers to God as "Torture Man".  [snerk]

I kept thinking, that woman needed her lithium.  It was so, so, obvious to me.  She was manic, and sometimes extreme religious fervor is actually  SYMPTOM of serious mania.  She had all the signs.  She was loud, she was restless, she was confrontational, she wouldn't stop talking, and she was flat out scary. 

I thought THAT ride was bad!  It gets better! 

After we went to the warehouse we got picked up.  I am an extreme bigot now; when I see an older white guy I mentally curse and prepare myself for a DREADFUL ride; the older white guys are horrible drivers. 

Sure enough, he's weaving all over the road and asking VERY intrusive questions.  I just feigned a headache and closed my eyes.  Yikey. 

I had to pee, so bad, but no way was I going to ask him for help.  Lots of dramas and complaining, and I'm thinking the whole time "You aren't going to make it a week."  Bragging to me they're "Going to make him a supervisor", etc.  RIIIGHT. 

Praise God, we finally made it to Walmart.  I got my jar lifter tongs, some low-sugar pectin, more canning jars, and a few utensils I needed for the kitchen. Why did I only have one stirring spoon?  I don't know.  I remedied that. 

Our last ride, was a cab.  He wanted to know how to make the big money in vending, like us.  I finally told him "If you only had a dollar for lunch, would you buy a big bag of chips at the grocery store, or a little bag out of a vending machine."  The big bag, of ... OH. 

Yeah.  Sales are bad.  Ron and I make less than I did working in an office.  That's both of us, combined, make less than I did working in an office.  I do enjoy the work but everyone was acting like we were running some kind of infomercial - "They're in vending, they will tell us 5 easy secrets we need to know to make it rich!" 

I'll tell you the big secret to making money in vending.  Find a guy with a big vending route. 

Go to work for him. 

Aren't you going to help him?

I made a comment about rude and annoying people, and it reminded me of something that had happened at work today. 

I think it goes to WHY I had such a hard time, asserting myself, for so long. 

Ron uses the wheelchair at work.  He uses a "bungee rope" to connect a metal handcart to his wheelchair, then propels the whole works where he needs to go. 

Ron demands a lot at work; but he was always kind and considerate of his employees.  Unfortunately, in his eyes, I am far more "wife and lackey" than I am "employee".  The way he sees it, he drives HIMSELF every minute he's on the clock, so of course I should do the same. 

So, the natural tendendy, since I'm the "caregiver", is to run around and work myself as hard as he does.  But I'm not a workaholic.  I need a break now and then. 

One thing I've concluded is that I haven't been true to myself; and I need to be someone I can respect.  I asked myself a hard question a while back - if I worked for someone else, would I allow them to screw me out of a break, every single day? 

HELL, NO.  So, I started taking it. 

It wasn't really taken very well, but I made the point "You're not telling me you want to violate the LABOR LAWS?" and "If I were ONLY an employee, would you say that?"  Ron had to conclude I had a perfect right to a break. 

He doesn't like it, but that's just too bad. 

People look at Ron, and they see a very damaged man working.  Ron isn't an invalid.  He can certainly do his job.  I have to do the heavy lifting, get the orders, etc, but he can certainly, as he says "Put the can in the hole" (stock a soda machine). 

He has his job, I have mine.  I do my job well. 

So, today.  I had been at work for 5 hours straight.  I was starving.  I got my bag of peanuts and sat down. 

Ron decided he didn't need a break, and I think may have set this up to some extent; he came into the breakroom, in the wheelchair, dragging the cart behind him, then opened up the soda machine.  He really looked pitiful, filling the soda machine. 

I sat there, eating my peanuts.  The supervisor on break glared at me.  I kept eating my peanuts. 

He couldn't take it anymore: "AREN'T YOU GOING TO HELP HIM?" 

No, I said.  I'm on my break. 

He got a little purple around the edges and muttered something under his breath. 

"Are you on your break?"  I asked. 
Yes. 
"Do you get a break every day?" 
Yes. 
"Do you know how many breaks I have had all week?"
No. 
"This is my first break, all week." 

He shut up. 

I really think today's little incident perfectly illustrates my "problem" - there are idiots out there, who, for whatever reason, think I need to totally subjugate myself to Ron and his disabilities. 

I don't.  It's perfectly OK to say "I can't do that, and I'm going to take my break now".  The world is not going to end if I go to the grocery store and DON'T call him to see what he wants.  Gravity will not be revoked if I say "I don't have to accept your ugly talk, and I'm walking off." 

[scoff]  But try to tell THEM! 

Video blog - much better lighting

"Never let him cry"

This morning, Ron did his usual "I forgive you for angering me" routine.  I wanted to tell him to stuff it; but I ignored it. 

I told him this morning, I would be happy to run the cross-town errand with him, but I wanted to be dropped at home before he wnt to the liquor store.  He took it badly, a lot of ranting and screaming and cursing.  If I wanted to go, I would have to go to the liquor store with them.  "It was no big deal, you can sit in the truck if you want to 'be wierd'".  I told him I would not; I'd stay home. 

More yelling. 


Ron kept asking why I was "acting funny" and I realized, for him, I am. He is used to a co-dependent pleaser, terrified of upsetting him.

A new woman has emerged, one who says "You know, it isn't cool for you to call me a stupid, broken, #itch, no matter how angry you are. It hurts me. Saying you are sorry does not take the pain away. When you do this, you are hurting me."

I also realized, as he said "We're just not communicating! Tell me how you feel!" and then making derisive, judging, comments when I did just that - I called him on it; and repeated what he had just said... asking would he want to "share" with someone making those comments... and telling him "When you're like this I just shut down, and don't want to be close to you."

Why did I have to be so wierd?  What was wrong with me?  Maybe I should take another pill! 

He said, fine, stay home. I did. That really freaked him out...

Anyway, I realized; this is who he is. An emotional abuser who doesn't know how to have a healthy relationship.

When he was a little boy, with glaucoma, the doctors told his parents "Never let him cry, he'll go blind faster". So, they did anything to keep him happy.

He used to tell me stories of his brother eating a candy bar, Ron wanted it, and his parents would take it away and give it to Ron. He was never disciplined until he did go blind; and this is what ensues.

In his world, things are "right' when I am rushing around, stuffing my needs into the closet, and pleasing him.

I am "sick" and "broken", to him, when I am assertive and set boundaries. He kept making comments about how I needed to take another pill, etc., boy was I really "wierd" today, and I realized that for him, it's true.

This is, really wierd, for him.  His idea of a healthy relationship is exactly 180 degrees from what is a healthy relationship.  Mutual respect, value, and understanding are just words to him. 

I told him "I don't feel special and valued when you curse me out" - and he DIDN'T UNDERSTAND.   It made me "lightbulb"  - something is broken in him. 

I also realized, Ron cannot take care of me emotionally. I need to disengage. I may or may not tell him this.

He kept asking if I would "Be OK" (the codependent pleaser) when he got home.  I was really tempted to say something vicious, but I didn't. 

I just didn't answer, he cursed, and walked off. 
I can live with him as a caregiver and a friend, but I'm pretty much done with the "husband".

A little too real for some, maybe.

I'm pretty pissed right now.  Please leave a message after the tone. 

I heard Ron talking, and went into his room, thinking he was calling me.  Not.  Quite. 

He was listening to "The Chat Line". It's free to call, but I believe the men have to pay to talk to the women, or leave them messages.  Ron's always trying to get me to listen to things he's taped off the line.  One memorable one featured a married woman, saying she wanted another man, and shouting at her husband as he walks in the room. 

I think it's like the alcohol; if I listen, then I am OK with it, and he can do it.  I have told him, I don't want to talk about this, and if you do I will stop the conversation.  I'm a pretty major gossip and he tries to entice me sometimes, but I always say NO.  "But the guy and his wife...".  NO.  And I walk off. 

The entire time I've known him, he's loved those lines.  He actually maintained a "dating account" while we were dating, because "I wasn't sure if your parents were going to split us up, and I wanted some options if they did." 

No.  Wonder.  When I first moved in with Ron, I'd pick up the phone, and a woman would hesitantly ask who I was, and could they please talk to Ron.  Ron would go in the bathroom and talk to them, in that "explaining things" tone of voice.  This happened several times. 

Had I not been born with brain damage, and had a self esteem at the time, I would have kicked him into next week and moved BACK in with my parents. 

Yes, I have expressed extreme displeasure.  He knows I view listening to this line as cheating.  But since HE doesn't view it that way, it's alright. 

His latest was a real winner "I'm going to get a prepaid cell phone, then I can talk to them on that!"  I told him he'd better go back on the waiting list for assisted living if he planned to do that. 

Not only that, I was sitting here on my computer.  "What are you doing?"  I told him, blogging.  Not about what. 

Every 2 minutes, he's bugging me for something.  I finally told him, could you please leave me alone?  I don't bother you when you're in the room with your door shut, but every 2 minutes you are demanding I get up and come "help" you with something. 

Enter tantrum, name calling, and door slamming.  [big sigh]

Ensue internet bickering over reasonable accomodations. Throw in a Down-on-my-Knees depression and ensuring add-ons, and it's a rather difficult day.  Enter tantrum, and the consumption of Bad Things. 

UGH, I need more soda.  And throw out the last Bad Thing. 

Done. 

Tomorrow, if he is willing to listen, I will give him a rule:  "If I am sitting at the computer, don't bother me unless it's an emergency" and then define "emergency" is not "Guess what they're doing in Kenya?" 

It isn't fair.  Ron expects to ignore me 23.5 hours a day, unless we're at work, but when he wants attention I'm supposed to drop everything.  However, if I want to talk to him,  I'm not permitted to wake him up, speak to him when he's on the phone, or break any of his rules.  I'm supposed to let him know I'm there and quietly go away, and if he chooses he will make that HORRID summoning noise WHEN he feels like talking to me. 

I'm sorry he may have felt neglected just now, but neglect is definitely a two-way street.  I'm the other woman, somewhere in there behind his beloved 2 liter bottle of vodka, the chat line, reruns of "All in the Family", and CNN. 

YES I'M DEPRESSED.  YES I TOOK MY PILLS.  I'd hate to see me without them. 

I can't even tell him I'm depressed!  He gets all angry and shouty.  It baffles me, it's MY problem.  Why are you throwing a tantrum? 

Would it kill him to say "Would you like to talk while we sit in the garden?"  Or "Can I do anything for you?"  "I'm sorry you're hurting" - God knows I use that enough on him!  I get, with his bad wrist, he can't exactly give me a foot or neck rub, but he could at least ACT like he cared. 

Instead he turns it all around and makes it about him.  "Why did GOD AFFLICT me with a BROKEN woman?"  Then tries to say "Well, I'm just angry for you."  Funny, it looks like you're angry AT me.  It FEELS like it. 

Let's see, I told you how I felt, and at the end of it all, I felt worse.  Maybe I should stop telling you how I feel.  Maybe it's a good thing I DO have God, because He sure knows He's the only one to support me.  I am valuable in God's eyes, but I don't think Ron values me at all. 

I'm not surprised the other guy made a move, last year.  I'm not surprised I rejected him.  I'm not a whore, sneak, or cheat.  I found the whole idea revolting.  I would never put another woman through the pain of adultery. 

[crying now]  I forget sometimes, it is OK to cry.  Any normal person would cry in my shoes.  In some regards, it's very difficult.   I have a lot of responsibility; without the good brain to back it up.  I have mental illness, and an unsupportive husband.  I have a husband I must constantly accommodate, who bitterly resents accomodating me. 

No wonder I want to stick my head in my pressure canner and scream for a while.  Here's an odd fact: when I was in a hospital, for depression, almost 30 years ago, they had a "Quiet Room".   That's the common fact. 

It was the padded room you hear about on TV.  Visitors always asked about it, and then say "Boy, I wish I had one of these".  Every single visitor. 

Kind of creepy. 

Sugarsnack

I told Ron today, "I don't think I'll get old".  I seldom talk about the premonitions. 

Mostly, I got them when I was ill, I think they would go under the "Psychotic Features" heading.  I'd have a strong conviction "I'm going to die today".  Overwhelming. 

Lately, though, it's just a simple belief that I won't get old.  I'll either die, or get raptured.  You can google "Rapture" - I am a "pretribber" - I believe in a pre-tribulation Rapture. 

Basically, that Jesus will take all of us "true believers" one day; and the rest of you will be fed some malarkey about aliens.  See, I told you ahead of time. 

Now, aliens could exist (boy, do I sound like I went off my pills OR WHAT?).  I accept that.  If so, then God created all of us, and has a purpose for all of us.  I would be shocked, if we were alone in the universe.  However, I personally think that while there's other intelligent species, cultures, and civilizations, we are probably too far apart from each other to make contact.  God wouldn't want us jacking with other species. 

Anyway, either that, or I'll die somehow.  I think either a violent accident or murder, a severe reaction to one of my medications (while dearly loved, any one carries serious side effects that could easily kill me - heart trouble, seizures, cancer), or illness.  It's just a feeling. 

However, unlike the premonitions, it has persisted even while properly medicated.  About the only thing I need to do is burn an embarrassingly co-dependent diary from the mid 90's.   If you think I have issues now, you should have seen me then.  My whole world revolved around pleasing Ron. 

Other than that, I pretty much got everything on my bucket list. 

So, what did I do on my day off?  I slept in a little, woke up, went to Walmart.  My "water bath canner" - purchased a few weeks ago, came in.  It is good for making fruity things, jams, etc.  The pressure canner, more complicated, cans anything.  If I want to make up a bunch of jelly quickly, the water bath is the way to go. 

I had improvised a very crude water bath, resulted in a few small burns.  I was very eager to get a "proper" unit. 

We finally got to Walmart, pretty late in the day.  We didn't get home until after 12.  I had an extremely tight budget.   I picked up my canner, which appears to be TWO canners.  Pretty baffled on that, may need to contact Walmart. 

I don't want to lie, and steal.  But maybe they come that way?  I don't know.  Like I said, baffled. 

I looked at the accessories, and didn't get the jar lifter tongs.  I should have.  When sterilizing the jars, it is good to have some kind of tongs.  My pasta server, and spatula, are not good lifting tools.  Ask my poached finger!  {laugh]

I got some more 8 ounce jars, and some cheap 2 liter soda.  It is far cheaper to buy it 2 liter, than to buy the half-liter six packs. 

More sugar, please.  Not for me, of course.  But my family do love the sugarsnack preserves.  Not to mention, it does make a lovely stained glass looking preserve.  The sugarfree is kind of murky. 

Murky is fine for Ron and I!  I couldn't get the big bag of generic splenda, but I could afford some fresh seasonal fruit. 

The nectarines were as hard as a rock, and about as fragrant.  I am very excited about making some canned peaches and fruit cocktails, but not with that.  Better to wait until it's at the peak of perfection, as they say. 

The strawberry sale, huge last week, was over.  I'm glad I got the berries last week.  Even if I did have to can them under less than ideal equipment! 

I did have some berries in the fridge.  I liked the pears.  They looked good, felt good.  I got 3 pounds. 

That was enough to make 6 cups, and a 4 ounce jelly jar.  I chose to make a spiced apple/pear preserve, very low sugar (1 T per 8 ounces).  I also made a smaller batch of sugarfree pear/strawberry/lemon preserve.  I made it up, basically.  Both of them. 

I used a cinnamon stick, and 2 t of cloves, in a tea ball, for the spiced.  I cooked it with the fruit, in water to cover.  They are BANGINGly good.  After canning it, I was licking up all the leftovers.  It's so good, I don't want to give ANY away! 

The sugarfree is pretty tart, but good.  I wouldn't give it away, but it's got a good flavor.  It will be good on ice cream or something.  Sugarfree icecream. 

Maybe stirred into some yogurt?  Hm.  I had 4 jars of the spiced, and a jelly jar.  I used 4 cups of fruit to start.  I had just 2 cups of the other. 

That was about it.  I made preserves and watched the Star Trek Enterprise marathon.  That was my Day off. 

"The Snarl Test (see 2:20 on video)"

I know, right now, someone is twitching for a video blog (laughing).  "Is Heather manic yet?  What do her jams look like?  Oh, Heather, you need to make a video blog." 

So, to spare that poor soul the agony of typing out a request, I have made a video blog.  [snort] 

Yup, I'm a little manic.  Off to go eat, pill time, and God Time.  I like to talk to Him right about when I take my pills, because that's my sharpest time of the day. 

Make groceries

Thank you Jesus, I'm finally a little manic. 

So, when I left you I had all the conflict about Ron and when I "could" cook.  Did I mention he loved my sugarfree splenda jam?  I used Sure-Jell, by the recipe.  He adored it. 

Today, in fact, he begged me to make him some sandwiches, with the new jam, and gave me some money to buy "his" bread (a "High fiber" but secretly low carb bread) and crunchy peanut butter.  He also bragged on me to 2 friends during phone calls.  Awesome. 

I slept in, had a headache.  Did my God Time, Ron woke up. 

"Why aren't you cooking my beans?"  Huh?  Oh, the beans.  I got them started.  Ron is always happy to help; cut up the sausage and agreed to do the dishes. 

Living with Ron, it's easy to want to do everything.  It's a struggle for him to get to the bathroom or dressed.  What kind of monster would "make" him do anything else? 

Me.  He loves it when I ask for help; and it's doable for him.  I feel better, like I don't have to do everything myself.  So I put him to work cutting up sausage. 

They took a while.  Somewhere in there I attempted to finish my sugarfree marmalade, and learned an important lesson: it will never, ever jell - unless I use pectin! 

I didn't have any!  Curse it!  Looks like I need to "Make Groceries" (colliquial slang here).   That's when Ron offered to make a trip to Walmart, to buy the bread.  I told him, I'm going anyway, I'll get it today.  "I don't want to bother you". 

Then I did the whole "If it was a bother I would tell you, it's not".  OK. 

When I left Ron was gobbling up his beans, the leftovers safely tucked away. 

I went to the grocery store.  I had to walk a ways, and ride a bus. 

There was a kid at the bus stop.  I tend to be more -alert- since my mugging, also a nice-looking kid at the bus stop. 

The bus pulled up.  My card didn't work, so I had to get rid of it and put money on my new card.  As I was shoving a $5 bill into the "vending machine" operation in the back of the bus, I heard shouting.  When the kid got on the bus (a young man about 20), an older lady began screaming at him in Spanish, got up, and physically pushed him off the bus. 

She said something, as the guy backed up and the door shut.  I didn't process it, but sat VERY FAR away.  If the kid WAS a thug, he didn't bother me. 

That's the nice thing about dressing "One step above homeless" as a freind phrased it one day.  My cheap clothes, lack of bling, and no purse all contribute to the "You have more money than I do" aura that has repelled countless Thug Boys and Thug Men over the years.  Of course God did it, but I believe a flashy dresser would have more problems. 

I got off and wandered into the store.  I do not like this chain, because they sell out of code products, I am always finding expired perishables, and non-perishables, every time I shop.  I find that disgusting. 

I figured pectin, bread, and peanut butter ought to be safe.  I did check all codes. 

I found the bread and peanut butter.  Gaped at the prices on the sugarfree jams.  Yikey.  It is cheaper to make it myself. 

Looked all over for the pectin.  It wasn't on the sugar aisle, where I have found it everywhere else.  I prayed about it, finally found it with the TRASH BAGS.  Huh? 

I did find some regular Ball pectin (which I need to make tomorrow's batch of Strawberry-Lemon), and the pink Sure-Jell, which is becoming a fast favorite of mine.  When I got home, the Sure-Jell did the trick, within a minute.  The marmalade looks fantastic. 

I also got a clearance funnel.  Love that thing.  I really need to get the tongs, my improvised method isn't safe for me or the jars.  I saw some other products on sale.  Checked the codes.  EWWWW.  Last year.  Revolting. 

I paid up and went out to the bus stop.  It came pretty fast, considering.  Walked home, it was a lovely day. 

Made the sugarfree in a jiffy.  If they didn't call it Sure-Jell, they could call it Jiffy Jell.  Ron, again, adored the marmalade.  He licked the spoon clean after tasting it. 

Not a peep from him about using the stove, either.  I think he's beginning to grasp the fact that this is a good thing for him; me canning and "jamming". 

I made the sugarbatch after talking to my sister.  My family all have violent reactions to sugarfree sweeteners, so I made it with real sugar.  I got 5.5 cups total, not counting a couple tablespoons' leftover "samples".  I didn't eat them, but I will offer people a taste when I hand out the jars. 

Back on track: the sugar marmalade takes forever to cook, if you don't use a pectin.  Next time, I will use a pectin.  It was not my idea of a good time, standing there for 2 hours stirring away.  I'm not kidding. 

However, from 1 orange, a lemon, and a grapefruit, I got 8.5 cups of tasty jam.  5.5 cups of sugary, 3 cups of sugarfree.  The sugarfree was so good I was scraping out the pot for every last bit, eating it right in front of the sink.  It was only a tablespoon or so but it was sooo good. 

While stirring and stirring, and stirring, I watched some "I won the lotto" shows.  I concluded my big indulgence would be hiring a personal organizer.  They would help me sort out my stuff (I have a serious lack on "Where do I put this"), and then come by for a few hours every week to help me sort and maintain.  That would rock. 

Of course I would love a little place in the country, with chickens and all.  I'd love that.  However, I can safely say I honestly love my life as it is. 

God has richly blessed me, so I will thank Him for what He has given me.  It was funny, while at the store and while making the marmalade, I asked Him for direction.  He gave it to me. 

I laughed to myself thinking, it's funny how I feel reluctant to "bother" God, but everything I read in my Bible says He LOVES to help us with the smaller things, too.  I always seem to find an answer to my request!   So, unless I get some kind of "conviction" (never have) I'll keep "bugging" him with the little stuff, too. 

Tomorrow, I probably mow the yard when we get home from work, and after my nap.  The weather has been so nice I opened a couple of windows.  Not all of our windows have screens, but that's never been a big deal to us. 

Orange Spice

Well, lest I devolve into "My-husband-is-a-monster", I feel I should say that today he did 2 good things for me:  He took me to Walmart, a nice long trip.  He also bought me a pressure canner.  I'll be paying him back on payday, unless he says "Keep it" (pretty good odds). 

Got up early, since my new modified depression schedule I DO NOT do God Time in the morning.  Not exactly prime time for me, these days. 

We went to Sam's Club on vital and important business: Ron wanted some 1 ounce peanuts, for personal use (we paid with our money).  We did that. 

Then we went to Walmart.  My garden's pretty full, so I skipped the garden department.  I didn't have much cash, or I'd have bought the canner myself.  Once I had the canner onboard, I got some 8 ounce jars, strawberries, lemon, and sugar. 

Everyone in my family needs a real sugar jam; the fake stuff triggers violent migraines.  [shrug]  For my own stuff?  I plan to do half sugar, half splenda, maybe.  Splenda ain't cheap, and sadly, has been implicated in at least 3 migraines.  I am OK with that; because the total carbs even in a full blown sugar jam are not extreme.  Half sugar is entirely acceptable. 

The Bad Things I was eating during my "Ron's a Drunk!" pity party, ran about 28 grams, EACH.  They came 12 to a package.  Frankly, at the rate I consumed them I'm surprised I only went up ONE size. 

Anyway, I got that.  The jam stuff/jars ate up most of my budget.  What will I put the jam onto?  How about a one-minute muffin.  Essentially a single egg, some baking powder, a little butter, and some ground flax.  I can take a lithium if I eat one; I love them. 

Well, I go through phases of loving them.  I tend to be that way with food; I will love something for a while, eat it constantly, get sick of it, onto something else. 

I forgot to mention, the "vegetable masher".  I got that for mashing fruit as I jam it. 

We looked around a lot, Ron got some of his new favorite: Ranch Chicken, from the deli.  He happily gnawed away as I pushed him around in the cart (look for photo with Ron in a blue plastic seat, on the back of a shopping cart - that's what we use). 

I saw the manager; said "Thanks for the great carts!  Look at all the stuff I bought because you got them!"  He looked, a lot of stuff in the cart.  Oh, and birdseed.  I got birdseed.  He grinned. 

We had a good pickup and came home.  I was pretty beat, and took my nap.  Got up, checked on the garden.  Still need to mow, maybe tomorrow. 

I started making the marmalade.  It took me about an hour to cut up 3 citrus fruits.  I guess I'm slow.  I think I need a better knife, too. 

Thus began the complaints.  I forgot Ron HATES it if I cook anything when the temperature is above 70 degrees.  AGH. 

I actually got a propane camp stove, for the disaster kit, in case he pulled this "You're running up the electric bill" stuff when I did my canning.  It is 80 degrees.  We don't even RUN the air conditioner until 85 or so.  I had the windows open. 

UGH.  Anyway, I will use the propane stove out back when I do my canning; I'll see if he'll pitch in on purchasing cylinders. 

So, did that.  Still simmering.  I put some cloves, ginger, and cinnamon in a teaball and added it to the liquid.  I don't know about you, but I love Orange Spice tea; which is basically tea, oranges, and cloves. 

Orange Spice marmalade sounds delicious.  If it works out (I finish cooking tomorrow), I'll put up the recipe. 

I also heated up a can of "Roast Beef Hash" - when I cleaned out the pantry I saw it expires in a few months.  Might as well eat it; if I like it I can get a couple more cans for the disaster kit. 

And dead rodents too

So, I figured first things first: did my  God Time. 

While praying, He reminded me to keep my eyes on Him. 

Good point.  If I am looking at God, I am not making Ron my idol, and if I am looking to God for my love/support/approval/validation than I won't be disappointed.  If Ron can provide some of what need (and he does), wonderful! 

The cat has also come and sat on my foot, to remind me he provides plenty of affection, and dead rodents, too. 

Jam tomorrow?

It seems every time I get depressed, the flavors of the exact depression are a little different.  This one's been far more a loss of interest/fatigue type. 

Anyway, got up early, did my God Time.  Dealt with Ron (yike!).  We went to the grocery store. 

The customers are not buying the big-ticket items.  They want to get a little addition to the lunch they have brought.  I am trying to fill that niche. 

For instance, I found some individually wrapped saltine crackers.  The customer gets two, 5x7 inch crackers, for 25 cents.  From my snack machine.  If you have a quarter, you actually have 3 choices in one snack machine.  I needed more crackers. 

We went to the grocery store that sells them, and got the crackers.  Ron also wanted some bottled soda.  I got that, too. 

We had a pretty good ride to work.  We had to take our new handcart.  It works pretty well.  It isn't very large, but it moves the needed merchandise. 

I unfolded the handcart and loaded our merchandise, got it into the building.  I started doing snacks, which did need a little work, thank God.  I stocked it all.  I checked sodas, did them, did the cold food vending, etc. 

Pretty soon, it's time to go.  I left, went out and waited at the bus stop.  I always do this.  Ron doesn't like waiting.  He, in my opinion, has a very rude approach.  "You just have to wait on me because you can't make me do anything."  I have pleaded, to no avail, to please be ready early (like I am), but he refuses.  No, I won't put on my shoes and fannypack until you tell me the ride is here.  Same attitude at work.  "I won't stop working and come out, until you tell me the ride has arrived.  They will just have to wait while I lock up the wheelchair and stockroom." 

Someone may ask "Why don't you just lie and tell him it's there?"  Because he would get very angry at me, and become even more resistant.   Besides, it's good quality alone with myself time.  I don't care if he disparages me, I kind of expect it.  In fact, if he suddenly morphed into the man I wish I had, I would be very alarmed.  I'd come to enjoy it, but I'd be very, very, cautious at first. 

I do mind, greatly, when he lets that attitude affect others, particularly service professionals who are just trying to make a living.  At any rate, he came out pretty readily today when I told him the ride had arrived. 

We went home for a while.  I checked on the plants.  Some strawberries are almost ripe; and the tomatoes are coming along nicely.  I'm not sure how big a "Patio" tomato gets, but this one is very healthy looking and has nice marble-sized tomatoes.  They're still at that greenish-white stage. 

All the little sprouties looked good.  I fed the birds and came back inside.  We rode to Starbucks.  Ron used his card.  I handed out a lot of candy/scripture booklets, and several Bibles today.  I figure the times are ripe, and God laid it on me. 

We got there, had a little time.  Ron's idea of quality time today, was listening to his talking book and ignoring me.  Hey, he wasn't being ugly!  Maybe that's all he could do.  How sad if true. 

Our next ride came, and we got home around 3.  I took my nap.  Ron pretended to be very shocked that I was taking a nap.  I think it was a "nice" thing.  Not always good with the social cues.  I played along. 

The neighbor kids woke me up about 45 minutes later.  We will have to get up at 5 AM tomorrow to run an errand, so I wanted to sleep in during a nap at least, but that wasn't going to happen. 

That's life.  I got up, came here.  Later on I plan to do dishes, some laundry.  Dinner at some point, God Time, and then bed.  I only have a couple of hours before I need to go to bed. 

I plan to possibly make some jam tomorrow.  I'll see how that works out. 

A very bad day for him.

Today was pretty hard for me.  It wasn't the worst depression ever but it was hard. 

I got up, did what I had planned for the God Time, took my shower.  Ron was in an incredibly dark and grim mood; which did not improve all day. 

I wonder, absently, if he was picking up on the depression and it made him angry.  He does a lot of the big angry thing when he knows I'm depressed; little realizing that makes the depression about a thousand times worse.  So I don't tell him if at all possible. 

Just a lot of ranting at God, God is so unfair, God allows him to have his physical problems.  A lot of comments I find very hurtful about "needing a normal woman, and getting you instead" . 

Well, I sure know who to lean on when I'm down: God.  God has never once made a hateful comment.  If I were truly dependent on my husband for emotional support, I would have killed myself years ago. 

No, I'm not running suicidal, just making an observation.  I think, with Ron, it's a combination of "not getting my disabilities", and, more importantly not wanting to understand.

It's absolutely hopeless to want him to understand and empathize.  He used to make comments like "If you're really that bad, then we need to split up" before we married.  Then swore up, down, and sideways that he loved "all of me".  Now says "I love you, hate your disabilities"  I get a lot of the "I needed more than you" routine.  If I "ask" for anything,  I will most likely get that diatribe and regret I ever asked; so I don't.  I just fake it 'till I make it, and if something doesn't happen the way he wanted,  because I didn't have the "juice", too bad.  He can think what he wants, but I won't tell him I couldn't do it.  I'll PAY if I do. 

Now, he's not a demon, but he can sure be a jackass.  His ranting about his physical problems?  Well, he has a house.  He has utilities.  He has a wife who loves him and does anything possible to make sure he has a simple and easy life.  He has employment that supports us both.  He has great transportation to take him pretty much anywhere he wants to go, anytime, for a minimal cost.  He has health care.  He has a cat, and a nice quiet backyard.  He has a healthy wife.  He has an extended family who care for him. 

Sounds like Ron has  pretty good life to me, but he wants to look at the things that aren't right in his life.  He has money, he wants more.  He has me, he wants more.  He wants to have a never-ending pity party with an audience of me, constantly petting him on the head and feeding him sympathy.  

You know what it's like for disabled people in the rest of the world?  No disability check.  They live with family, in a corner of a room, if they're very lucky.  If not, they live on the street.  Either way, they are probably begging all day long.  They don't have any utilities, safe housing, employment, or paratransit.  They probably will not be PERMITTED to marry.  That's a hellish existence. 

I'm sorry.  To quote what I read on a message board "I didn't sign up for this".  I signed up with  fighter, a man who appreciated his blessings and valued me as his "Little Gift from God". 

When was the last time I heard that?  HA!   I even asked him that today and got a scoffing laugh in response.  Thanks. 

We went to a marriage counselor, several years ago.  I paid for it.  What a waste of money,.   The guy didn't even notice I was bipolar.  He (the counselor) got very angry when I said I felt like Ron was having a constant "pity party" and I wanted it to end. 

He basically said I was a heartless bitch; and Ron "needed time to grieve".  Well, HOW LONG?  He had been blind for over 4 decades, post-accident for over 3 years, and has been ONGOING ever since, for the last 5. 

I'm sorry, but how long does it take for someone to grieve?  Just to clarify; I'm not leaving him.  That's not what God wants.  But I get frustrated and I'm permitted to rant; look at the book of Job, Psalms, or Lamentations for examples of people complaining! 

Trust me; I get grief.  Long term readers will remember when I lost my little Buddy Frosty (the white cat in my photos).  I lost my birthmother.  I lost my beloved grandmother, and all this just since Ron's accident.  I found out I was crazy, I had to grieve the loss of my "normal".  I had to grieve for RON'S losses, as well, and the constrictions they put on my life as a result. 

Ugh.  I get tired.  I get angry.  I am sick of him ranting at God, when at least part of the problems are directly caused by Ron himself. 

I told him, I read a little story about a dump truck.  Someone was going around very angry and full of toxic emotions.  They kept trying to dump them out on other people, like rancid trash.  I'm not going to accept that, and I'm letting you know you're acting like a dump truck.  You need to decide if you want to be the toxic person dumping on everyone. 

When I got back to him, he said he was "Sorry you are having a bad day" (classic redirection).  Sometimes, I just have to quit. 

I remind myself, days like today, one day God is going to strip off all Ron's illusions and show Ron the man he really is.  How he filled his role as my husband. 

That's going to be a very bad day, for Ron. 

I unloaded everything

I'm getting munched by depression.  Occasionally I allow myself to forget, this illness has teeth. 

Boy, does it.  I'm actually glad the neighbor kids are running around and shouting in the yard, right next to my bedroom.  If I went to bed, I wouldn't sleep anyway.  I would LOVE to go to bed; it's 5 PM. 

So, how was my day?  Got up, headache again.  Took my over the counter generic excedrin; again.  Didn't do my morning God Time; I didn't have it.  I reminded myself that since God created me, He understood. 

I don't ever want anyone to think "Oh, she's so saintly" or "She has it all under control".  [snort]  Not.  Quite.  True. 

So, Chuck was due to pick us up around 8, and he did.  We went to the wholesale warehouse.  I loaded cases of bottled soda onto the handcart (Chuck is about to retire on disability for back, etc.); I got the snacky things we needed: Munchies, Japanese Peanuts.  I made an awful joke about them glowing in the dark.  I was OK for candy.  Got some juice boxes. 

Checked out; handed out "my" candy with scripture booklet (did that a lot today).  She said thank you.  Chuck drove up.  I loaded the truck. 

We went to work.  My handcart had a dramatic "fail" halfway to the stockroom.  I wasn't happy. 

Got the OTHER handcart.  Still had merchandise, so I had to unload the first broken cart, put on the other cart, unload in stockroom, get rid of bad cart, go outside, finish unloading truck, and put the merchandise and cart away.  I was pretty hot and tired. 

I got a cold bottle of Diet Dr Pepper out of the stockroom.  I handed it to Ron.  "Hold this".  He did. 

I took it from him.  "Oh, how thoughtful!  You're the best!"  He laughed. 

We went to the seafood restaurant.  I ate fried things.  They were good.  Other than the batter, I ate a few hush puppies. 

I figured I had burned it off with the unloading and all. 

Then we went to Home Depot.  Ron wanted a paving stone for the yard.  I did the loading and all. 

Then Walmart, to buy a new handcart for work, because the other one was unsalvagable.  I got that, and, with my money, got some canning jars.  I was happy to see them. 

THEN we went home.  I unloaded everything (common theme here), and then checked on the plants.  Everyone looked OK.  Said hi to dum-dum next door (the dog), wagging away at the fence. 

I went to bed.  I woke up, with the song "Push it" running through my head.  I hate that song.  Then I had "Blaze of Glory" by Bon Jovi, which was a thousand times better.  I kept thinking about the workers on suicide jobs; in Japan.  A lot of people know they won't be here long. 

Depression had me pretty well entrapped; but I hung in there.  I went out into the garden and looked around again.  Got bitten by fire ants.  Bad word. 

I'm about out of gas for the day.  I think I will eat early, and take my night-time pills.  Do my God Time.  If the kids let me, I'll go to bed early.  It's been a hard day. 

I've had this stuck in my head, ever since I heard about the suicide workers in Japan.  They know the radiation will kill 'em, but they're doing everything they can. 

Look out, dandelions

I don't know if it's just me or not; but I have a tendency to look at the bad thing that happened in my day, and call it a bad day, especially when battling depression. 

When I was a kid, I remember hearing a pastor give a sermon.  He held up a white piece of paper with a black dot.  He said, all you probably notice is the dot, but look how small it is compared to the rest of the paper.  So, I guess I'm not alone. 

I have had a time, taking care.  Yesterday I did have a Day Out, I went to the grocery store, and Favorite Dollar.  I got some wooden "wind chimes" - which seem acceptable to the neighbor's dog (rolleyes).  I got the neighbor's dog a squeaky toy, because she had NO toys at all.  She seems to like it. 

These are the incredibly filthy people, so I doubt they even noticed the toy.  I doubt they'd care, anyway. 

I got some driver candy, which I bagged up and started distributing today, and a lot of batteries for the disaster kit.  Pretty much everything wants a AAA battery, and they had a special.  Pretty decent batteries, 8 for $1.  I got several packages.  My MP3 player, and Ron's; and the LED flashlights I like all run on them. 

I also got myself some bubble bath, in a nice rose fragrance.  I am taking care of myself. 

Then I went on a hunt for a water bath canner.  I didn't find it; that night I ordered one online, to be delivered to my Walmart.  I did find some jars at Target. 

I had my handcart, so I got them.  While at the Walmart (all this is on foot and bus), I found some lovely honeysuckle candles.  I liked them a LOT.  I got some tealights, and a little candle in a jar. 

I plan to use the jar candle when I'm taking a nice relaxing bath.  Later on tonight, actually. 

My God time has suffered horribly with the depression, I'm still getting it in there but not the quality or the quantity I'd like.  But then God reminds me he wants my obedience, and my heart.  He can take a very incoherent "burst" of emotion and turn it into a lovely hymn of praise or a powerful intercession.  I just need to keep talking to Him. 

I can only do about half the stuff I "should" be doing, dishes, laundry, etc.  My poor strawberry plants were still outside in their pots, waiting to go in the ground.  I was barely able to get outside and water. 

Anyway, after I hit the stores I went to the liquor store and met Ron.  I got there well before he did.  I got a small (200 ML) bottle of cheap brandy - to make tutti-frutti.  The brandy, fruit, and sugar are layered in a glass container to make a lovely dessert, which also makes a great gift. 

Will I be consuming it?  No.  Will Ron?  Hell, no.  He'd probably love it. 

Will I meet Ron again like I did yesterday?  No.  I feel, now, it's endorsing behavior. 

Anyway, at some point the employees figured out I was with Ron, and they call came out to talk to me (individually).  It was a little odd talking to the people who keep him drunk!  [shrug] 

But I'm sure it's not what they want to do, enable drunks.  They need to eat.  So, I was kind.  It's his fault, not theirs. 

He showed up, went in, and came out with 2 bottles of vodka (about a gallon) around his neck.  His friend called, and I think sarcastically asked Ron why he didn't buy more.  Ron said that was all he could carry.  He was the only one to touch the alcohol. 

His friend offered to help Ron buy more.  [clutching head in hands]   Does he want to kill my husband? 

He does not and will not know about the brandy.  Either of them. 

Now, the last time I drank (a single shot of spiced rum)  I saw giant roaches all over the walls, got very paranoid, and had the anxiety attack from hell.  Alcohol is not happening to me.  I don't even take the cold medicine.  I never drank that much before.  I think living with an alcoholic tends to make the sober partner very cautious around alcohol. 

I think, a few years ago, I had a single low-carb beer, over the course of an hour, while smoking up some meat.  That was it.  I have no desire for more. 

Anyway, we went home.  I checked on the plants and crashed out.  Woke up, had a protien shake (did I mention cooking is a little beyond me now?), and went back to bed. 

This morning we went to work.  Basically, Ron did some financing for the alcohol purchase.  I'm not sure what he did, but he wanted to put some cash into the account.  So, we went to the warehouse, bought some candy for the machines, stocked it, pulled out the bad codes. 

I finally got Ron to cut the sandwich order.  I have been throwing out a lot of expired sandwiches every week.  Per unit, they are the most expensive thing we well, and I was throwing out 2/3 the delivery. 

TALKING didn't work and got Ron very defensive.  So I put them all on the hand cart and asked him to look.  Then I told him these were all the bad ones, and I would be throwing them away.  THEN he went and cut the order. 

"They are buying snacks, and soda, but they're not buying sandwiches." I told him.  "Let's put something else instead".  We will still carry some, but not as much. 

Then we went to the bank, and from the bank, to the mall.  Ron wanted to check the Radio Shack.  I was completely out of gas. 

I woke up with a vicious headache, had to take my exedrin.  I know the medication makes the lithium effects stronger, and I was pretty groggy all day.  All I wanted to do was sleep. 

We ate at the chicken place.  I got meat only.  We had a pretty good ride home, I checked on my plants, and took my nap. 

I had really disturbing nightmares (another depression thing), and woke up.  I have had some physical symptoms, too. 

I put up the trash can, and planted my strawberries.  I had about 6.  It took a while, I was still really tired. 

Ron came out to sit in his chair.  He was very drunk.  He kept ranting about radiation and God's "slowness".  I just uh-huhed and went on with the gardening.  I asked him not to use profanity at one point, because he used the "female dog" term; while the neighbor kids on the back fence were playing in their yard.  He stopped. 

I finished planting the berries.  I sat down next to Ron.  He slumped back in his chair and let his arm fall to the ground.  He began complaining about the grass.  It was "too long"  (about 2.5 inches).  I had to mow.  I had to mow, now. 

I told him "It wasn't very cool" to come out and criticize me, and if he wanted me to talk to him he needed to stop.  He starting yelling. 

I walked around the side of the house and planted my Barbados Cherry, something I have needed to do for weeks now.  He shouted for a few minutes and went back in the house.  I spread mulch on the berries (they love mulch), planted some more beans, planted cucumbers, and then went in the house.  Ron was playing his music, loud. 

So was the guy next door (you could call him the "dog-father" *yuk-yuk*); so I guess the two cancelled each other out.  I checked the mail; nothing. 

I was pretty annoyed at Ron when he was shouting.  I needed room for a strawberry.  I had let a dandelion grow in a garden bed because the greens are good to eat and I like the tea I make from the roots.  It all came to a head and I yanked it. 

I planted the berry, then went into the house and cleaned the dandelion.  I chopped it, got a few mustard greens (boy, those things are HUGE), and washed them too.  Then I put them all in a big pot with some bacon ends. 

I will add a line after I eat them: 
Look out, dandelions. 

They were EXCELLENT.  This is great, because I am TERRIBLE about eating vegetables.  I used too much lemon pepper, but the greens were delightful, tender and crisp. 

I hate "Southern-Style" greens.  They have the consistency and flavor of wet newspaper.  They are boiled for hours until all the nutrition is gone.  These, I simmered for 20 minutes. 

Wonderful. 

Now time for my God time, and bubble bath. 

I'm going to COOK it.

So, what have I been up to? 

Well, 2 trips to Walmart.  The first time, they didn't have Ron's medicine, but when we did get it; it was cheaper.  By about $20.  For us, that's a lot of money. 

I spent a couple of bucks on some really nice looking strawberry plants.  When I got them home, I realized they'd been planted 3 to a pot, so I got 3 times what I paid for.  Not bad for $5 - I got about 15 plants! 

I am on the hunt for an inexpensive water-bath canner (about $20), to can up strawberry preserves.  Maybe figs, I don't know.  I always liked Fig Newtons, so I figure I will eat a fair amount of them fresh. 

Not much energy; battling depression.  I had energy for Ron (need some quality marriage time), some housework, and work.  That was it.  Hardly any energy for my God Time, even. 

I find it a little sad, but then I realize the God who created me understands when I am out of gas.  He loves me anyway. 

The other vendor said some very rude and offensive things about Ron - implying that he is a con artist and manipulator, because he heard Ron asking someone how they were, and saying please and thank you.  Ron is sincere. 

I was offended, but didn't show it.  I just did the whole "Gotta get my delivery" routine and left without responding.  I want to find the man likeable, but he isn't.  I also remind myself that he did make a pass at me last year, a married woman, and that shows what kind of man he is. 

Ron might say he is envious; and remark on the guy's "good taste".  Wow.  Ron is remarkably secure.  That's a good thing, my loyalty/fidelity SHOULDN'T be a question.  He should be able to laugh at the idea of another man getting rebuffed (I was rather rude, too). 

So, that was a little awkward but I can choose not to respond.  I like that about me. 

Oh, the neighbor's dog was going buggo the other day, and Ron left a note on their door.  Basically friendly advice, please pet and play with your dog every day.  She gets lonely just like a human child.  Stuff like that.  He also added the number of the humane society "if you get tired of her".  It would kinder to give her a loving home. 

And they did!  Not much, but at least I hear them out there now and then.  The dog is very lonely, which is really sad when you figure AT LEAST 7-8 adults are living in the house.  Where do they sleep?  PLUS 3 kids that I've seen.  At least they are all quiet. 

Of course, the young man threw a bag of trash in our yard, just as a one-finger f-you salute.  I threw it back.  [snicker] 

Bubba brought me a live cowbird on Friday, and a dead sparrow today.   I was very upset about the sparrow. 

I am rethinking feeding the birds, now.  Is it fair?  I can nourish several dozen birds a day, at the risk that some percentage might become cat food; or I can refuse to feed them at all.  I also have to look at Ron's enjoyment of the birds in the yard. 

I plan to only feed them in the large open area, where they can see kitty lurking.  See how that goes. 

My big ethical dilemma.  I planted a lot of stuff this weekend, and have some more to do soon.  I'm about at capacity, and plan to stop, starting seeds.  I have a pretty easy time starting plants from seed, and grow most of what you see in the garden, from very inexpensive seed packets. 

Oh, and I ate some lettuce.  I cut off some buttercrunch and it was good.  However, I have monstrous, huge, mustard greens.  I trimmed a few leaves off and put them in the salad. 

They were so lively, hot even, that I almost cried as I ate the salad.  Normally, I do not like "hot" things, but I do like a little excitement in my salad. 

My adoptive Mom is a lovely lady, but when I was a kid her idea of salad was iceberg lettuce with dressing.  I don't mind a salad that bites back - a little! 

Next time I eat a mustard green, I'm going to COOK it.  I have some more lettuce to move into the garden, and the window on all the lettuce pretty much ends in May.  The rest, I'll grow in Garden Bed 5 in the side yard (mostly shade), but I do need to cut back a weed-tree. 

Did I mention I got Ron's upside down tomato thing done?  I planted it with some cucumbers and tomatoes, at his request.  I think he'll enjoy his "garden". 

When the corn is done, I plan to plant the grapevine at the top of Garden Bed 1, but Ron and I need to figure out how to support it.  I plan to run the vines on (something) across the top of the other garden beds, without shading them. 

Legally I "own" up to 15 feet in the air above the ground.  I won't go that high, maybe 8 feet or so.  I have a single story house (Ron could not do stairs), and two, 2-story, houses overlook my yard.  I'd like a little more privacy. 

Privacy + grapes sounds like a good combination to me.  I read I MAY even get some grapes my first year?  That would be great! 

So, still some yard-work to do.  I bought a tarp last week (10x12 feet) and tacked it down with landscape staples.  Instant patio.  Ron likes it.  I like it. 

I can put my potted plants on it, and don't have to worry about the grass.  It is SUCH a pain to pick up little pots every time I mow.  I need to put some landscape fabric under Ron's tomato planter, too.  Nice rich compost tea-water dripping off of that, that stuff is like steriods for plants.  I need to stop that. 

I have the Sci-fi channel on.  It is supposed to be a drama, but it sounds like an X-rated movie.  Since when did we have to get naked and simulate sex?  Sad.  Ick.  Especially since one of the parties is a warewolf? 

I also need to organize, housework, etc.  Lots of things to do. 

I also need to remember to HAVE FUN.  This weekend has been all about the stuff I need to do.  What about what I want to do? 

And no, buying a big bottle of economy brand 2 in 1 shampoo/conditioner (I need it now that my hair's growing) and some of the white Dial (bar soap) doesn't count.  Neither does the 16 pound bag of cat food, for Mr Greedy Cat. 

We had a big thunderstorm today (more in the video), but I don't need to work on my day off just to get the machines running again. 

Right now, I need to round up a healthy, low-carb dinner. 

Let's hope I can find that canner tomorrow.  It will work great for tomato sauce, and jams. 

Heidi, I turned up the "gain" (microphone volume level) as far as possible but I plan to do a regular post too.

You're going to be so disappointed when you wake up tomorrow.

As I hear about Japan, I am struck with the amazing similarity to the movie, Atomic Twister.  It's one of my favorites. 

A disaster hits the plant.  They shut down and go to backup.  The backup fails.  Now what? 

Ron is very agitated, he keeps talking about meltdown.  Again, another movie "The China Syndrome". 

What a day!  I found it so sad when Ron called a friend.  Ron chatted briefly, and then said he wasn't worried about tomorrow, because he knows where he's going when he dies.  Go ahead, death!  Bring it! 

"Buddy" got very alarmed and said he wasn't ready to die, and didn't know what would happen when he did.  Ron tried to tell him about Jesus; but the guy wasn't hearing it. 

Ron was devastated.  "What's going to happen to this guy?"  Well, I told him, WE know.  I reminded him that not everyone is called by God (John 6:44).  God has not drawn Buddy to Him, yet. 

As events escalate, it is very clear to me that I am living in the end times.  A song came out when I was in High School; I made it my end times theme song. 



The chorus goes:
I'm alive and I'm waiting, waiting.
I'm alive and I'm waiting for this.
Right here, right now;
There is no other place I'd rather be.
Right here, right now:
Watching the world wake up from History. 

Ron is absolutely convinced it's the end of the world.  I'm a lot more skeptical. 

Sure, we could have some REALLY NASTY fallout, nuclear winter maybe?  What does happen with the China Syndrome in Japan?  I don't know. 

Am I worried?  No. 

As far as I can tell, people will die.  Hopefully not many.  Then, World Missionary Press will do a drive: "Help us send Scripture Booklets to Japan!"  I will throw them a few extra bucks in addition to my regular monthly debit, and I'll do whatever God tells me. 

I'm with Jesus.  I think this is just one step forward in the End Times progression.  Is it The End?  I really doubt that. 

I told Ron "You're going to be so disappointed when you wake up tomorrow."  He agreed. 

However, if you've been thinking about getting right with God, now would be a really good time to do it. 

It's very easy.  Examine your life.  We'll take my life as an example. 

I had a lot of pain in my life.  A lot of emptiness.  God wanted to help me; to comfort me and wipe my tears away (Revelation 21:4).  I had a hole in my soul that only God can fill. 

Not only that, I am an extraordinarily imperfect human.  No matter how good I try to be, I'm nowhere near perfect.  I want to be better, but I can't.  I'm human; and flawed. 

I sin.  What is sin?  Well, I believe God puts His laws on our soul.  How does a little girl who has only known sexual abuse, know it is wrong?  Why does it bother us to think of harming a helpless person?  We know it's wrong; God's told us. 

That's why God gave us the 10 Commandments, which he later shortened to 2: Love God, Love yourself and your neighbor. 

Easy to say, hard to do.  God wants to help with that, too.  That's why he sent His son, Jesus, to die for our sins.  He has offered us the ticket to Heaven, all we have to do is accept it. 

How to do that?  Easy.  Take a hard look at your life and your imperfections.  Look at the things you've done wrong.  Realize you can't measure up, and NO ONE is ever good enough to get into Heaven on their own merit. 

However, Jesus has a LOT of tickets to His party.  One with your name on it. 

All you have to do is tell God, "God, I know I'm imperfect.  I know I have done things against Your rules, and sinned.  I want You to come into my life.  I want Jesus to be the boss of my life; and guide me.  I want to be Your child.  Please take away the bad parts of me; help me to master them so I can work on the things You want for my life." 

Mean it.  You're in. 

Come up and yell at me sometime, up in Heaven.  I'd love to give you a hug. 

"Like Barbeque"

Occasionally Ron will lean in close and whisper in a husky, passionate voice "You smell good, Heather....

Like Barbeque."  He will take a deep whiff of my hair, scented with woodsmoke, charcoal, and roasted meat, and sigh deeply.  I always laugh. 

I love to barbeque.  Right now I've got some pork ribs smoking on the grill.  Foodtown had them on sale for less than $2 a pound.  I marinated them, and now I'm smoking them over mesquite. 

Today got off to a rather odd start.  All those birds I'm feeding, make a lot of racket.  I got up, thinking it was about 9:30 AM.  I took my shower, and did my God Time, talking to Ron about an item I planned to get for the disaster kit. 

On that subject, upon speaking with many "I don't have one and I'm not going to bother, either" people, who then added "Since you're so well prepared, I'll just show up at YOUR place..." I seldom speak of the disaster kit. 

I have one.  You should, too.  http://www.ready.gov/ look under "kit".  There you go.  Get the stuff. 

"I can't afford it".  So, get one item at a time.  One week, get $5 of canned food.  If you drink soda, save the empty 2 liters and fill them up with water.  Next week, maybe get some basic over the counter stuff you might need, like headache stuff.  Next week, get another bag of petfood.  Easy. 

Anyway, Ron agreed that today's item sounded like a smart idea.  I had seen it at Academy Sports, in combination with a lighting item. 

During the last power outage, I was EXTREMELY disappointed with the failure of my battery operated lamps.  It was hard to install the batteries, and some of them were not working properly.  I found my LED flashlights to be the most useful.  I got the cheap ones, that run on a couple of AA batteries and run a few dollars each. 

I also found the religious candles to be very practical.  The previous homeowner left a lamp, the kind that burns oil.  I tried that out, pretty impressive.  So, I certainly didn't mind getting a "free" lighting item packed in with the other thing. 

Academy had them both, at the cost of one.  Good deal.  A little large, so I planned to bring my tote bag. 

However, it was running late.  I had been up for HOURS.  Imagine my shock when I checked the time, and it was 9-something!  Huh! 

I went to the grocery store and got some of that half-and-half salt, it's half potassium chloride, half regular salt.  I'm not trying to cut back on my sodium intake (taking lithium, that could kill me if I did), but I think it will be useful as I get back on an induction lifestyle.  I got a six pack of Diet Dr Pepper. 

About the most interesting thing I saw on the bus, was the addition of a new bus stop near the grocery store.  Pretty tame. 

I rode over to the Academy and got the item.  I also got a headband, I can put the flashlight into the headband and wear it.  I saw a guy wearing one last year when they installed the new generators at work, and it was very convenient. 

I paid up and carefully loaded my stuff into my tote bag.  I got everything to fit.  Yay! 

I realized I couldn't follow my plan of  "Let's go to the garden center after Academy" - my bag was awfully heavy.  Instead, I went to a nearby Starbucks, and then home. 

Ron loved what I got, and talked with me out in the backyard for quite a while.  Then he went inside and I started the ribs. 

Yum, yum. 

Let's go get our medicine

Yesterday the weather was forecast to be grim.  High winds, severe thunderstorms, my butt.  Yeah.  It was a nice little drippy drizzle, and in the 70's all day, with light breezes. 

I had to tell Ron the business account was overdrawn.  Oops.  He does all the "bank recs" - balances the checkbook.  His bad.  Well, all my books say "Let him accept the consequences" and he did. 

After that auspicious start, I got to do the monthly report.  Talk about depressing; for Ron.  I have food in the fridge, the mortgage is paid, and we have utilities.  I say "Thanks, God!"  Not in front of Ron. 

Ron was really grim; and I let it infect me.  Which is why, today, I went ahead and took an extra lithium at lunch (per my protocol with Doc "Take an extra if you're having a hard time") even though I "felt fine".  I'm mildly depressed now; how would I have been without it?  SHUDDER 

The weather was lovely yesterday and today.  I finally forced myself out into the garden.  I can honestly say I have never met a happier plant in my life: the new fig tree is thriving.  It practically sings!  Worth giving up a whole, raised, garden bed, hauling hundreds of pounds of amendments and cinderblocks, and paying probably $150 to get the bed set up.  Whoo. 

I think it's like that story of the tribal woman hundreds of years ago:  In her culture, men paid a dowry of cows for their bride.  The average rate was 4 cows, the highest ever known was 6.  A woman's value in the society was determined by the number of cows "paid" for her.  She had a cleft palate and speech impediment, and was painfully shy. 

A young man in the village, the best hunter, loved her deeply, and she loved him too.  He hunted and traded until he had amassed a herd of a few dozen cows.  He approached her father.  All his friends said "With her defects, I bet you can get her for 2 cows."  He just smiled. 

Imagine the shock in the village when the girl's father announced the dowry:  TEN COWS!  No one had ever paid that much before!  Why did you pay so much? 

"I wanted her to know she was the most valuable woman in the world." 

I think my fig tree feels that way.  I have never invested that level of labor into any plant before. 

Personally, I think the best fertilizer is a little sweat.  I tend to drip into the garden beds when I'm working!  Now that I've got everything set up, it ought to be pretty easy to maintain. 

Last night, I decided to fix myself something nourishing.  I am really trying to only put quality foods into my body.  I thawed out some beef stock with meat.  I shredded some greens, and added some veggies.  Then I added some quinoa.  It was my first time, eating quinoa. 

I love it.  It really thickened up the broth nicely, had a good flavor, and is loaded with nutrition.  I ate that, then went to bed. 

I forgot to set my alarm, Ron's woke me up this morning.  He had no idea.  Good. 

He was pretty gloomy; but I decided not to let it affect me.  We went to work.  We had to take some money out and deposit later; we did that.  Ron paid me half my wages today, and I'll get the other half next week.  I told him that was great. 

We had a little more business than usual, good.  I filled up the machines.  I asked Ron to please reduce the sandwich order, but I don't think he did. 

It's interesting; I tend to evaluate sales by the volume of snack inventory moved.  Currently, I need to stock the machines 1-2 times a week.  Back in "the day", I had to stock them every day. 

Ron tends, I think, to evaluate profitability by the amount of the sandwich order, so asking him to cut it is shoving an unpleasant truth at him.  [shrug]  Well, it's his name on all the paperwork. 

Really, he has to be a sole proprietor.  Legally I'm just the hired help.  At-will, at that!  [snorting with laughter]  He could fire me for no reason, anytime he wants!  However, I'm the only one who can "manage" several of the machines. 

I'm not worried about Ron firing me, especially if I'm taking my pills.  Oh, regarding that: I'm almost out of Wellbutrin.  We will be going to the pharmacy to get our pills on Friday.  I always thought only old, old, people did that.  "Let's go get our medicine!" 

After work, we ran to the bank.  I asked Ron to wait outside, because "It would be faster and our next ride is due any minute".  Mostly I asked him to do that because he was very angry about the overdraft charges.  Well, it was his fault, not the bank.  I didn't want a scene. 

I was pretty tired when we got home, took a nap.  Wanted to take a longer nap (hello depression), hard time getting out of bed, actually.  My depressions tend to be worse at night ("atypical"), so I plan to stay busy. 

I got some pork ribs the other day, I plan to marinate them tonight and then smoke them tomorrow, when I get home from the Day Out I never had on Tuesday.