Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Metal Can

Huh.  The first time I tried to come over here naughty modem wouldn't let me. 

For those upset: I have to do what I feel is the right thing.  My whole "life" here on Earth is just a hiccup when you look at eternity. 

God loves me regardless of my actions, but I want those actions to be the ones He wants me to do.  I have undertaken some serious prayer, Bible study, a short soda fast, etc.  God wants me with Ron. 

I think the fact that I have supportive people, aware of the situation, helps keep Ron focused on what's important.  The other day, we had a talk about the cat.  I told him the cat loves his current life, and regardless of how we split the cat would have suffered, too.  And that's just the cat. 

Onto the rest of my life.  Last night, I noticed the messy neighbors had bagged up two huge bags full of mixed dry leaves.  The leaves were in clear bags, sitting in the driveway. 

It's amusing, I am very territorial about "my" property, and I wanted NOTHING more than to run over and snatch the bags out of their driveway.  But, that's THEIR property.  The law says anything AT THE CURB is free for the taking. 

It WASN'T at the curb.  So, I kept walking by, licking my lips over the huge bags of leaves.  I got to thinking; for milennia, the homeowner or peasant would have carefully gathered the leaves, composted them, and spread them on the fields.  Or, just left the leaves where they fell to provide nourishment for the tree and understory plants.  This went on for millennia.  However the word is spelled. 

It's only been the last 100 years or so, that plant wastes were seen as "dirty", akin to sewage, and something to be removed and disposed.  Along came the internal combustion engine; the plastic garbage bag,  weekly "trash" pickups, and all the organic plant waste went to the dump. 

So, to "normal" people, my hunger for organic matter, for my garden, appears very odd.  How do I know this? 

Well, this morning, they FINALLY put both bags at the curb.  I was chomping at the bit, waiting for her to leave so I could grab both bags.  Unfortunately, Metrolift got there first. 

AGH.  I could only see one way to get what I wanted.  "Excuse me, ma'am?  Can I have the leaves for my garden?"  I had to restate it a few times, and I got a very baffled look "You want my trash?"  it said.  Yes, please, for my garden.  She consented and I snatched them, dragging them off to my compost pile as the driver gaped.  The woman got into her car and left, still staring at me. 

Oh, well, I got my leaves.  I was happy.  Eventually I imagine plant wastes will be seen as valuable future fertility for a thriving garden, but for now I seem demented.  I get it.  I'm OK with a label.  I was very polite.  When I have a nice harvest of something, I'll give her some.  Probably sugar snap peas.  They are delicious and prolific. 

It was an interesting start to the day.  We had good rides all day, like we did Monday.  It's great, but I keep wondering when it will end. 

We got to work, did the pull, did the deposit, I got paid.  Ron sold some change.  We have enough to buy a modest amount of inventory tomorrow; makes me happy. 

Ron says since we're working tomorrow, we have Friday off.  The other vendor's wife is really sick, so we won't be seeing them on Friday anyway. 

He says he'll give me a ride to Home Depot if I want; I'm considering it.  I want to get a metal can for my birdseed. 

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Naughty the modem

My modem is acting up, and I had a hell of a time getting online today. 

Ha!  You should have seen my trying to download my new Theocracy album last night - it took forever, and I ended up praying, literally, over the download. 

So, I will come off as harried no doubt and it's because I have to burp it all out quickly before NAUGHTY the modem goes down again.  [sigh]  I am getting a new modem for Christmas, looks like.  Ron likes to buy me "things" now and then, and it drives him nuts when I say I can't think of anything. 

So, back home.  Not dead.  Ron is still drinking, but not being verbabally abusive and letting me sleep.  The neighbor's dog is barking a lot because someone dumped a pit bull in the neighborhood and the dogcatcher can't get it.  It goes sniffing around the yard, the dog barks wildly, and it wanders off, only to come back.  A little aggravating for me. 

I am rearranging the bedroom, the way I had the bed was causing some traffic issues.  On the north wall of the house, is the soccer family's trash can, and my zero property line.  I literally have the trash cans right outside my bedroom. 

On the south wall, I have the door to the bathroom, and the door to the bedroom.  Nothing can go there, really. 

On the west wall, we have the closet, a regular closet about 10 feet long, not walk in.  I took the doors off and put my dresser in the closet, it gives me a lot more room. 

The east wall has the sliding glass door.  I am very limited, obviously, and the bed HAS to go on the north wall.  However, instead of running it north-south, I ran it east-west.  It is a much better flow for traffic going out the backdoor, and I can see my garden while lying in bed.  I'm happy.  Ron loves it.  Yay, me. 

The daytime weather has been lovely, sunny and delightful.  I've had some fun out in the garden.  I planted most of my potatoes today.  I have two types of fingerlings I bought at the grocery store, and some Yukon Golds I saved from my first harvest.  They are all sprouting, all the sprouted ones of a good size got planted.  I have a few marble-to-ping pong sizes I plan to tuck into another garden bed, somewhere.  I also need to plant my onions, but intend for most of them to go into a nice deep planter.  I always like to put some around the collards, they are beneficial to each other. 

Ron pretty much is awake at night, sleeping during the day.  I don't want anyone losing sleep.  I have a door that locks, if I chose to do so.  I also have a bug-out/hospital bag with important papers and changes of clothing.  Any decent disaster prepper has a bug out bag. 

I'm liking the bedroom.  It is a lot more spacious now.  I made sure the cat kept his "bed", which is a rolling storage cube.  I knew "Bubba" had some garden items (seaweed concentrate and peat pots) in his box, and was thrilled to discover blood meal, too. 

Blood meal is dried blood.  Plants love it.  Especially leafy green ones.  Sprinkled on the soil, it feeds the soil organisms which then feed the plant.  It also scares herbivore nibblers, if you have a problem.  It comes as a powder, in a bag.  I put it in my fertilizer bucket, along with the cottonseed meal (my favorite fertilizer), kelp meal (second favorite), and other goodies.  I need to get a metal container and put the fertilizers in that, then I can put it out in the garden. 

Before anyone says it is "gross".  Do you eat meat?  If you do, the blood comes out in processing.  Isn't it better to use the WHOLE animal?   I believe it is.  I also use bone meal, too. 

I have a great book by Dr Bob.  He is a Houston gardening expert.  Dr Bob says "critters love to eat organic fertilizer, store in a metal trash can" - I'm going to take that advice. 

Side effects really kicked my butt today; I stayed home.  It will be nice all week so I don't feel I missed anything important. 

I'm keeping up with my God Time, don't want to screw myself.  I miss it when I don't get it. 

I get paid soon.  Work is pretty slow, but Ron said I can get the inventory I need.  Good.   I hate empty coils in the snack machine. 

That's it for now.  Not sure when the modem will let me back online but I'm doing OK. 
Modem dead. I'm OK.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Run

I have been sharing some of my trials with Ron online, and it is interesting to see the perspectives.

Most people tell me to leave him, and if I were unsaved, I would, and probably do some damage on my way out. A guy I knew, who is interested, actually tried to tell me (years ago)  I could get away with killing Ron because I am mentally ill!
I found that very alarming, that he really thought I would consider that for even an instant.

God WILL rebuke Ron; I have NO doubt. The issue here is to keep my naturally hurt feelings, and wounded pride from transforming into a haughty, judgemental, spirit. That won't please God.

My job, as I see it, is to take my hurt feelings and shame to God, and to let God console me. To leave it at "Lord, rebuke him". The God who created the universe can certainly avenge my hurt feelings, anger, and indignity.

My job, as I see it, is to ask God what He wants me to do, and go to it, trusting He will give me what's required to do my job. I am well aware my blog is crosslinked to a message board.  [waving at Rabble Rousers]  I'm glad I can provide some entertainment and fodder for discussions.  I am aware you probably think I have drunk the koolaid, gone around the corner, and have the spine of a jellyfish; you probably see my "faith" as the frosting on a very broken cookie. 
 
See, I think the difference between me and an "average" person: the average person is pretty much about pleasing themself.  What will be the best choice for me?  What is the best job for me?   He isn't treating me right.  I need to get out of here; and does so. 
 
I have a very different perspective: What will make God happy?  A good example; getting another job.  I keep getting a huge NO from God on that.  I don't understand why, but my job is obeying God.  I have enough for my needs. 
 
Do I think Ron speaks for God?  Absolutely not!  [laughing]  No way.  I go on my own internal leadings, prayer, and Bible study.  I take my medication as directed because I get a lot of noise in my head, otherwise. 
 
I think the problem is that a lot of people view my current issues as between me and Ron.  They aren't.  Ron's an adjunct.  The problem is between me and God.  I am being treated shamefully.  I take it to God.  God lets me know He has my back, and God WILL repay Ron for what he has done.  My job is to honor my commitment, even if Ron doesn't honor his.  "Love, honor, and cherish", until Ron asks for a divorce or God makes it clear. 
 
The pastor who married us said, as he prayed over the Bible verse, God led him to Hebrews 12:1-3 (HCSB)
 
1 Therefore since we also have such a large cloud of witnesses  surrounding us, let us lay aside every weight and the sin that so easily ensnares us, and run with endurance the race that lies before us, 2 keeping our eyes on Jesus, the source and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that lay before Him endured a cross and despised the shame,  and has sat down at the right hand of God's throne.


Fatherly Discipline


3 For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, so that you won't grow weary and lose heart.
 
Run.
Don't lose heart. 
Keep my eyes on Jesus. 
HE was mocked and shamed, too. 
Run to Him. 
 
Hebrews 10:30 says "Vengence is mine, I will repay, says the Lord".  He will. 

The week in review

Well, one way or another I HAD to go back home. 

If I was leaving Ron, I'd have to get my stuff.  All I took was a handful of clothes and some bedding.  [It's very comforting to sleep on MY pillows (a few of them), and under the blanket I made, and I slept quite well on my aunt's floor.]

If I was going back, well, I had to go back, didn't I? 

I doubt I can narrate this properly without sounding as though I need a severe medication adjustment, looking like a complete nit masochist, or even more severely brain-damaged than I am.  A brief timeline ought to suffice:

Sunday night: All the drama, I leave the house and go grab some floor at my aunt's house.  Ron trashes my room before, and after, I leave. 

Monday: Ron is still very beligerent, unrepentant, and has decided that I am the source of everything bad in his life.  He wants a divorce.  He calls adult protective services, tries to resign the business, and doesn't go to work, leaving the other vendor to get his deliveries.  I read "The Nuclear Catastrophe" - a very good post-apocalyptic novel.  My aunt leaves to care for her son, who's just had orthopedic surgery.  My uncle takes me back home Monday night, if for no other reason than to get a few items and see how badly Ron's trashed my room.  Answer: pretty bad.  Space heater thrown across room.  Bag of ant bait - same (I had it near the back door) - while the bag opened up it was in another bag and did not spill.   I evacuate a tray of seedlings and a tray of sprouting seed potatoes.  Clothing thrown everywhere, etc.  It took me a couple of days to find my white noise machine.  Ron makes another trip to the liquor store, buying wine. 

Tuesday: Very upset.  I decide I need to seriously focus on finding God's will.  I do a Dr Pepper fast.  Anyone who has met me knows I am addicted to my Diet Dr Peppers - I am always drinking one.  I can't fast from food or drink due to my medication, but I can drink water for a day instead.  Did that.  Also started reading 'The Stand".   I read about 86% of it, per my Kindle, before I came home.  I decide, if Ron wants a divorce, he can have it.  Ron decides, on his own, maybe I'm not so terrible.  I get a bizarre phone call regarding our upcoming soda delivery.  He wants me to come back.  It is apparent I can't stay on my aunt's floor forever anyway.   Besides, I conclude, if we do split I will have to go back home and start sorting through my stuff.  I resolve to go back, if for no other reason than that - what would I want if Ron and I split? 

Wednesday:  Ron has to go to work by himself.  Boy, does he miss me.  My uncle is out of town, attending a funeral for his sister-in-law's mother.  I'm at my aunt's house, with my cousin, and another cousin's daughter.  Ron wonders if I am coming home. 

Thursday: My aunt is back and town, and my uncle.  I go back.  Boy, my room is trashed.  I still can't find my MP3 player.  Pretty pissed about that.  Start cleaning up and sleep in my own bed.  Ron avoids me.  I let him stew.  My garden looks great, all the Sugar Snap Peas are up, and the fava beans.  We got enough rain while I was gone to keep the plants happy. 

Friday:  Up early, go to work.  It was apparent, while working, that I could manage quite well without Ron.  I fixed a couple of naughty vending machines with God's help.  One of the microwaves is dead, but they aren't "ours" anyway.  I stocked everything I could, decorated the machines, made Ron wear the elf hat, and put on my "Merry Christmas" Santa Hat.  The customers like it. 

Today: Up early, went to Walmart.  Walmart was dead.  Couldn't make my deposit, forgot about that.  Got some essentials, and some more decorations for the vending machines.  Rain, and lots of it, thank God.  We really need some rain.  Catching up on laundry, watching disaster movies. 

That's it for this week. 

It would be really easy to tear myself up with worry about everything in the world.  I'm not going to allow myself to do that. 

I'm battling a nasty depression, so dealing with all that and the fatigue that comes with a properly medicated depression.  I haven't even taken my shower yet.  Just no energy; I'll drag myself in there but it feels a lot harder than it is. 

I'll just hang in there. 

Regarding Ron: I believe God will convict him.  If he gets awful again I'll leave (not my aunt though), and stay gone until he can act like a human being. 

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Why did you leave?

You know, I'm not good with healthy boundaries in a relationship.  As I type "And I was willing to go back last night, as long as Ron could commit to:  1.  No verbal abuse and 2.  Letting me sleep." you are probably screaming in frustration and wanting to slap me. 

Well, he didn't want me home. 

Yeah, some demons in Ron's head telling him I'm so much better without him, he has to throw his life away to "get rid of me".  He is furious I voicemailed his abusive rantings to my entire family. 

It has always been my opinion, that I shouldn't say anything I wouldn't want everyone to hear.  IE - gossip.  IE - abusive comments.  "You are a piece of waste and I wish you would die" - I wouldn't say that in front of anyone - but if I did I would expect it would get around, you know? 

I wouldn't think my "victim" would just swallow it and say "Sir, yessir".  Which, unfortunately, I did for a very long time.  Ron used to harangue me for hours, calling me horrible names, and I would just sob and beg for forgiveness.  It makes me ill to think about it now.  He would throw me out after one of these sessions, menacing me physically, and I would call him begging him to let me come home. 

Unfortunately, that did set a precedent for him.  While he hasn't done that since the 90's, I noticed all abuse stopped right quick when the apartment was in my name, and I was paying the bills. 

He really thinks it is OK, when he feels "provoked", to just wage war on me.  I mean, complete and utter war.  I was in the SHOWER, that night, and he was screaming at me "That's right, wash up, you filthy b!itch"  I wasn't even talking to him - it was clear he wasn't going to hear it and responding would just "feed" him. 

He has left a series of extremely abusive messages for me (I didn't have to listen to know), my aunt, and my uncle.  He accused them of "meddling" and worse.  They're not exactly reciting it, but that's what I've gathered. 

I ignored the voicemails, I told him if he had something to say he would have to say it directly.  He likes to leave hateful, hit-and-run, voicemails. 

He called me twice, once to tell me he was resigning the program (leaving both of us unemployed - he has done this on many occasions - left a dramatic message for the boss about wanting to resign, then changing his mind.  It's gotten to the point where the boss doesn't even call him back).  Still, threatening my security like that is a very cheap, nasty, shot. 

The second time he asked me what he did.  I said, you didn't remember?  He said no.  I said, well, you called the police, they sent the mental health crisis team, and they told you to stop drinking.  He got very angry and said it didn't happen this way, *I* had commited the egregious offense of moving (my) keys.  I told him, the keys I moved were MY keys.  You have your own keys to everything, including the backdoor, and if you were too drunk to find them that's your problem, not mine.  I didn't want you in and out the back door all night anyway, leaving the blinds open and waking me up. 

He then asked me why I left.  I was so shocked, and so furious, I hung up. 

He doesn't understand.  And you know, that scares me, more than anything.  Ron really doesn't understand, appropriate behavior on a relationship.  He doesn't understand it's WRONG to verbally abuse your wife.  It isn't fair to threaten her with violence, no matter what the "provocation", it's torture to keep her up all night screaming profanities, it's wrong to call the police because you are drunk and angry.  It's wrong to scream at the police, cursing them and calling them names.  He thinks that is all fine, and I should have just gone to bed.  Because, after all, it was my fault. 

I called him, it went to voicemail (he was probably telling himself I was going to be SO MAD and scream at him - he really wants me to sink to his level of mindless rage and screaming, so he can judge me) and very calmly said: I am answering your question because I truly believe you don't understand why I left.  If, the fact that you were verbally abusing me, screaming constantly, refusing to let me sleep, calling me horrible names, threatening to break things (after I left, he trashed my bedroom twice), threatening VIOLENCE, isn't reason enough:  the police told me to leave (it was strongly implied).  I called my aunt and uncle, and let them listen to you screaming.  They told me to leave, AND came and got me.  I called my sister and let her listen to you screaming.  She told me to leave.  If that wasn't enough, I also called Mom and Dad - they got to hear you screaming at me and THEY told me to leave.  So, when everyone I consult is telling me to leave, I'm going to leave!  So, hopefully you understand now. 

He apparently talked to my uncle a few times yesterday, and my uncle said "He got a little clearer as the day went on and he sobered up."  He said he HAD to see my uncle in person, and my uncle brought me along, hoping, I think, we could make up.  Ron had said he didn't want me to "touch" him - I think trying to play the victim role.  He does look pretty tragic - and there's that horrible, scary, crazy woman who hates him (rolleyes).  From an emotional abuse standpoint, he hit the gold mine when I got diagnosed bipolar - he can tell everyone I'm crazy and abusive. 

Huh.  The only one I'm abusing is ME! 

Anyway, I went with my uncle.  I needed some more clothes, and I was worried about my potatoes.  Yes.  My seed potatoes, sprouting in the bedroom.  I didn't want Ron to kill them.  I told my uncle: either he is going to make a dramatic display of pouring out the wine (see late August, this year), or point out an "egregious housekeeping sin" that warranted all the physical abuse. 

Sure enough, Ron proudly pointed out my "messy" (trashed) bedroom.  My uncle realized Ron had trashed it after we left, because he had ripped a power strip out of the wall, etc.  He had thrown a clean basket of laundry all over the floor and taken things off a table and thrown them on a floor, he had even thrown a space heater, and my scale was in the bathtub.  Or his scale, they look alike (his talks).  Anyway, my uncle said that backfired, and he got a really good glimpse of Ron's darkside. 

I did retort that the room looked bad, because Ron had chosen to trash it.  Ron got all smirky and I was sorry I had said anything.  He wanted to bait me.  Ugh. 

Then he solemnly staggered up to the sink and pointed out a few dirty dishes.  "No one can live like this" Ron said somberly.  "No one, I have to get rid of her". 

Ron's great idea is to resign the business, default on the mortgage, go into foreclosure (mortgage is all Ron), and go into some kind of subsidized independent living arrangement.  He went outside and talked to my uncle for a while, while I tenderly gathered my potatoes (OK).  I figured they probably wouldn't make it another night, at the rate Ron was going. 

As we left, my uncle stated that Ron was drunk, again.  I told him Ron's "Never before noon" rule about drinking; however Ron fails to understand that drinking until 6 AM, passing out until noon, and then drinking again is probably "a problem". 

Sad, pointless, and stupid.  I was sorry I'd gone - except for the potatoes.  I did grab my emergency fund, some bedding, etc.  I saw the cat, gave him a hug, and a treat - I brought a can of his favorite treat, and fed it,  while Ron was ranting at my uncle.  I'm so glad I don't have a human child. 

So, I'm sleeping on the floor, in my aunt's house.  They are very nice about it.  I'm sharing the house with my aunt, uncle, cousin, and my cousin's daughter.  A little crowded, but like I told my uncle last night - as he apologized for my sleeping arrangement: No one's going to come in here and scream at me all night, and throw my stuff around. 

He laughed and said he could promise that, for sure. 

Monday, November 21, 2011

As Ron stood out front, yelling "You stupid f-ing b@stard!" at the departing police officers, I realized NO neighbor in the subdivision would ever allow a child in my yard.  The loud, drunken, "prayer" (mainly profanities, about me, directed at "God"), in the backyard, the drama, the police, the shouting... yeah.  No kids in my yard.

So, no matter what, I don't have to worry about THAT anymore.  It was actually pretty funny.  Ron is a very proud man; remember this. 

Over a week ago, I went to the store.  I asked Ron if he wanted anything, he said no.  I got him a little bag of chips anyway, because he has a habit of changing his mind.  After I finished shopping, I offered him the chips.  He got mad "I SAID no!  I don't want them!"  I said OK.  Later on, while eating my snack, I offered them again, and he emphatically said NO. 

So,  days later, after Ron had gotten his own bag of Fritos at the grocery store, I ate the other chips.  I paid for them, I was hungry, and I didn't want to eat our inventory instead.  No big deal. 

Nope.  Yesterday Ron, after "some" wine, demanded the chips.  I said I had eaten them, because he didn't want them.  Of course Ron had a different version.  One in which he pleaded with me to save them, and I selfishly ate them anyway. 

Ensue tirade.  It was also a great excuse to "comfort" himself with more booze, and he was pouring one glass after another.  He went off in his room for a while and I called my sister.  We had a good talk.  Ron went out back while I was talking to her and I accidentally locked the back door.  He banged on the door and I let him in.  He was furious - how dare I lock him out, and he had just decided to forgive me for the chips, but that was over!  I was a failure, I had locked him out AND stolen his chips (this is where the "verbal" started).  He went in and out, in and out, of the back door. 

I realized he was 1.  Going to leave my backdoor unlocked, and it's in my bedroom.  2.  Leave the blinds open, giving me no privacy, and 3.  Keep me up all night staggering in and out.  I also realized Ron wants me to react to the verbal abuse, but I didn't have to talk.  So I didn't, even when he was shouting profanities at me.  Jesus did the same thing before he was crucified. 

Normally, I hang MY keys on a hook, inside my bedroom door.  I decided I had better reclaim MY keys.  I took them off the hook and put them in my backpack.  If Ron really wanted to use the back door, I reasoned, he could use his key.  He has his own. 

If you thought the chips were bad, you should have seen it.  In his mind, the chips, accidental lock-out, and the loss of the keys snowballed into a horrendous, unforgivable, offense.  I had to be punished. 

"I tried to protect you" he slurred sadly as he staggered to his room "But I won't anymore.  You're going to have to go to jail."  He called the police, told them I was bipolar [strongly implied, dangerously], had locked him in the yard, and he wanted back in.  He said all this while sitting in the house. 

In Houston, we have a lovely mental health team, police officers.  In a case like mine, they dispatch the special officers who have a strong grasp of mental illness, and how to deal with it.  So, these poor bastards showed up. 

Ron is sitting on the front porch.  He had decided he wanted me locked up for a week, long enough to teach me a lesson without hurting the business. 

The officers showed up.  See, like I said, Ron is a proud man - and "shaming" is a typical emotional abuse trick.  I decided not to react.  I greeted the officers cheerfully and introduced Ron as an alcoholic.




"No, I'm not!  You BISH!" He lunged out of his chair at me.  The male officer grabbed him, and I went into the house. 

The female officer followed me (she was wearing the mental health team logo jacket) and I just sat in my chair.  I didn't say much as Ron raved at the officer, and staggered all over.  She asked me about his drinking problem, had he ever sought help, I said, no, he won't admit he has a problem.  I was just calm and resigned, so much for "crazy". 

The male officer, properly concluded there wasn't a problem, and prepared to leave.  Ron started cursing at them.  The female officer said "Sir, YOU HAVE A DRINKING PROBLEM.  YOU NEED TO GET HELP." 

"Shut up, bitch" Ron replied. 

When he realized they were leaving, and I wasn't going to be locked up for my "offenses", he followed them out to the car.  I could hear the profanities he shouted, as I sat on my bed, in my bedroom.  With the doors shut.  Like I said, no kids in THIS yard anymore.  All the neighbors got a really good show. 

Ron started up again with the verbal abuse, so I called Mom & Dad, let them get an earful on the voicemail.  I did the same with my aunt, and then concluded, after a lot of threats, that it would be better to leave.  It wasn't the "I'm going to fix you, bitch", it was farther along than that, but you get the general idea.  Threats.  And, while I could duck him while awake, sadly, he would be able to find me while asleep. 

I think it is safe to conclude, that while family may understand the GENERAL concept of "verbal abuse", letting them actually hear it is another matter entirely.  Mom was livid, my aunt and uncle horrified.  They came to get me. 

While they drove, Ron called the police, again, and they sent out another officer who also concluded that Ron was just a very angry drunk.  Ron was just raving at everyone, God, me, the officers, my aunt and uncle.  He even called me aunt at 10 PM and tried to get her to wake my uncle up. 

And, even though I had to sleep on the floor last night, no one here has called me a bitch.  [sigh]  So goes my life. 

I am hoping Mr Proud remembers enough of this today, to realize he has a problem and needs some help.  I don't know, it could go either way.   I think, in his eyes, my "offenses" completely justify all of HIS subsequent behavior.  I could see that. 

He's lucky they didn't arrest him. 

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Maybe it won't matter, tomorrow

It's funny.  I finally "got over" the kid ripping the board off the fence to spy on us, and Ron's kept talking about it today.

If the kid does it again, I'll take Ron over to talk to the father.  I'm sure that will do it.  Ron really hates it when people stare at him.  

I'm a little hivey today.  Spell check didn't like that.  Not bad, but a little itchy.  I'm going easy on the wheat, this week.

I got up pretty early, worked in the garden for a bit, and noted my fava beans, and sugar snap peas, are sprouting.  I have never eaten a fava bean in my life.  Apparently I can eat them as a green bean, as a cooked shell bean, or as a dry bean.

Sugar Snaps, I know, are easily eaten raw, in the garden.  Speaking of, the only real garden problem I encountered - fire ants.  Boy, my left foot was pretty unhappy.  I poisoned them, thinking all the while, this is why I don't want kids in my yard.  I don't care if trespassers get bit, but I don't want them eating the poison.

I just had a thought for a great no-tresspassing sign:  This yard protected by FIRE ANTS!  It would feature a menacing fire ant underneath.  I like it.  Everyone dreads and fears fire ants.

I work on reminding myself, if life were perfect, I'd never want to be raptured.  If I didn't have all the problems, I probably wouldn't be so focused on serving God.  If I had a perfect everything, I would live for it, and not Him.

Just a theory; I doubt I'll ever get to try it out!

Things have been pretty quiet today.  A few "boom boom" cars going down the street, but nothing major.  Ron said, apparently, there was some noise last night.  I'm not sure how our subdivision rates, size-wise, and for obvious reasons I can't give out a lot of identifying details, but it's not "dinky".  When you have a lot of people living together, you'll have conflict, noise, etc.

Most of the time, I feel I am pretty easygoing when properly medicated.

My mood has just been crap the last couple days.  Really brooding a lot (ruminating and perseverating), having a hard time "letting things go", etc.  I have been begging God for help, the last few days.

And I think that's why He allowed me to have this illness; to keep my focus on Him.  I can't ever take my eyes off Him for long, the illness rears up, tries to buck me, and I'm hanging onto the "reins", screaming for help.

I'm pretty pleased; I did manage to get a lot of gardening accomplished during my last mania, and a fair amount of housework.  I only bought the things I needed and had plenty left in my pocket the day I got paid.  I can't ask for better!

I am having a little bit of an issue with that guy at work.  I think I will tell him directly.  "I hope it is clear to you, and everyone here, that I am completely committed to my husband.  I'm starting to think it is a bad idea to 'be friends' with someone of the opposite sex unless they are also, happily, married."  Then I worry it might sound like *I* am fighting feelings.  Trust me, I'm not.  The guy is a hardcore alcoholic.

Agh.  Then I want to go bash my head into a wall.  I hate subtext.  I do poorly.  But it is apparent to me, and Ron, there is a subtext and I need to address it with clarity.

That's where I go "fall" on God, asking Him to lead/guide me on what to say and how to say it.  Maybe Ron could say.... no.. I think I will have to say it myself.

Or maybe it won't matter tomorrow.  I think that should be my new motto: Maybe it won't matter tomorrow.

Tomorrow, other than work, my only big plans - taking a Collard plant, in a pot, to a happily married co-worker.  I think they will enjoy it and treat it properly.  It's so much fun to grow your own food.

When I lived in a 3rd floor apartment with a balcony, it got a little sun every day - maybe an hour or so direct sun (sort of like my garden bed 6).  Like Garden Bed 6, I planted a lot of leafy green things.  They always did very well and I ate a lot of fresh, organic, salads, grown a good three floors off the ground.   It was impossible to find anything organic in that neighborhood.

And even if I lived with no sun, I have a sprouter.  You can grow a lot of fresh greens in a sprouter.  I have a fancier one, bought on clearance, with a couple of trays, but a simple jar could do the trick.  You can google it, easy to do.

I might even get some seed at the feed store for it.  Right now it's in a cabinet, because I have fresh green things in the yard.  Well, mostly green.

I do have 2 purple kale, and a frilly purplish one sprouting in my seedling flat.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Not so cranky today. 

I don't know why kids want to tear boards off my fence (the board is completely off the fence today, good thing I propped up my wood), but that's between them, their parents, and God.  Had a hard time NOT thinking about "home invaders" etc... it's called perseverating and ruminating.   Ugh.  I just want to bang my head into a wall, sometimes, to make it stop.  Then I take it to God "Help me take my thoughts captive, put Your love in my heart" etc. 

Signs, of depression.  On the one hand I want to boo it away, but on the other, I can only be manic for so long.  It is easy to see why some of us become addicts; it would be nice to adjust the volume level on the emotions! 

But, I have to turn it over to God, leave it in His hands, and trust He made me this way for a useful purpose.  I found it fascinating... I have 2 different "Read the Bible in a Year" plans, a couple collections of daily Bible verses by subject (about 5-10 verses a day on humility or whatever), a very old devotional by Mary Tileston (from my Grandmother), a Corrie Ten Boom devotional (also from Grandma), a mental health devotional from my sister (love you Sue!), a yearly prayer guide to every country on the planet, and 2 other devotionals. 

I take my faith life very seriously, and endeavor to read it all daily.  Not: I'm so holy.  More: everything I read today was about "the tongue".  Watch your words, etc.  Funny, I mean, literally everything had that.  It doesn't happen often, a coincidence like that, but when it does I sit up and take notice. 

So: I slept great last night.  I told Ron, whatever you say about Barky, he was good last night.  He agreed.  I also told him, if some question mark is wandering around, I'd rather the dog bark.  He agreed. 

Whoo.  Hot flash. 

Which is funny.  GIRL TALK AHEAD: my cycle has arrived... several days late, as it has pretty consistently this year.  I am fine with that - my only concern being weight loss.  I hear it is much "harder" after complete menopause.  END GIRL TALK  I'm sure my bones are fine.  I do plenty of weight bearing activity, eat a lot of protien, and take mineral supplements.  I take a Vitamin E supplement for my heart and I exercise regularly. 

We got up very early, and went to Foodtown.  They have good prices on bottled soda, and are fine with modest purchases for work.  We don't hassle with the sales tax, we just double pay.  I'm sure the State can use it. 

Went to work, worked hard, did it all.  A guy at work has a pretty serious interest in me.  Ron is commenting on it, too.  I thought it was great how he handled it, the guy kept following me around at work, trying to talk to me, and Ron finally turned his wheelchair towards him and said "Isn't your break over?"  I think the guy was mildly offended. 

Ron said, "At least it is OPEN interest" - a change from last year.  I just find it a little odd for a single man to be interested in a married woman; and I can say I am happily married.  Even if I wasn't, I made vows. 

Even if I were immoral, he drinks.  That is a deal killer for me.  And he breeds pit bulls - which terrify me.  I think I'll let Ron interact with him. 

He kept asking us what we were doing for Thanksgiving, and I told him the truth: Ron's having a TV dinner, and I'm having a pot pie.  One of my favorite passages in Proverbs: Better Vegetables where there is love, than the finest meat where there is hatred. 

I thank God every day I'm alive.  I have a lot to be thankful for. 

Today, for instance, and after work - Ron was very appreciative.  I just eat that up.  I guess one of my love langauges would be "words", in addition to "quality time". 

Friday, November 18, 2011

"Kids need a yard" but not mine

Yesterday, I spent a lot of time building up the perfect compost pile.  I took everything off, stirred up the compost at the bottom, "stole" some for my garden, and layered it back into the bin.  Yard waste, layer of dirt, yard waste, layer of compost, yard waste, you get the idea. 

It took hours but I was glad I did it.  I also made sure it was nice and moist to keep out little visitors.  I ALSO, on top of that, planted mints all around the bin.  I accidentally stepped on one, twice.  I was so glad it was mint.  A less vigorous plant would have died.  I put up some fencing so that won't happen again.  Today, they seem quite happy with their new home. 

Speaking of home, I had some excitement.  You may recall the problem I had with the kids next door running wild in my yard during a party.  The older boy was making odd comments about us trying to "trick" him.  Today, the little boy who kept coming over, was trying to pull a board off the fence and watch us.  He did this several times.  Every time I "caught" him, he'd run off; so he knows it's "wrong". 

Unfortunately, I don't speak Spanish and they haven't taught him English.  I won't go down that path.  I guess my school taxes will pay for that education. 

I got a large board from the "dog" pile, compiled last year when I was trying to keep out the "Barkappotamous".  I had some pretty clever arrangements. 

Anyway, I put it over the broken board, and the little boy came back, "tried" to look in through the hole, then moved down and "tried' to look through a gap in the fence.  I said the usual, "Stop that" stuff, that's when I figured out he didn't understand.  I said, loudly "Do I have to tell your parents about this?"  and nothing, the older kids and his mother were in the yard.  I went over and rang their doorbell.  Nothing. 

So, I wrote a note and put it on their door, for the father.  They are more traditional in "Mother stays home and does child care, the father goes to work and does discipline".  The problem is that they have a very small yard.  The two older kids play with each other, and their cousin.  They are at least 5 years older than the little boy.  He has a little sister, still in diapers, who was being pushed in a swing and generally fussed over (until the next baby, in a few months). 

I get it.  The little boy feels lonely.  He is ignored.  I think, in the birth order stuff (if you believe it) he is an "only child" due to the large age gap.  However, that doesn't mean you can turn my yard into your playground.  In the note I left for the father, I mentioned today's activity, and then added that no children were allowed in my yard from now on.  I said it was "an insurance" issue - and it is.  But it's mainly the fact that the kids aren't respectful of my property.  They slam the gate.  They look in my windows.  They scream and yell.  They run around in my garden.  They make bizzare comments like 'They built the gate like that to trick you (into thinking we have a dog)"???

So, I told him, if someone loses a ball, ONE adult can come and get it.   Not written: I am done with these huge packs of screaming brats using my yard as a playground. 

It seems to me, if you want a lot of children, you should automatically get a larger yard.  You don't get a small yard, turn part of it into a back porch, turn another part into a shed, and give the kids a small "run".  Not if, like many mothers, their mother is going to send a large group of highly energetic kids outside to play.   Sad but true, our subdivision HAS a playground, and more than one neatly mowed vacant lot. 

Even the father is done with "kicking the soccer ball into the fence" - they broke several boards off his fence.  I noticed they didn't do that today, and one child yelled at another who did so.  The other game, "Throw the soccer ball on the roof" didn't work very well either. 

Ron and I were out there, obviously, and it was apparent they did know we were there.  The loud slamming noises were absent, and the shouting was reduced. 

So, I said, your kid is doing this, and has also been in my yard, unsupervised, on more than one occasion.  For insurance reasons, no children are allowed in my yard.  Thank you.  I said it a lot nicer than that, did a couple of versions, tore up the bad ones, and only left the note that met Ron's approval. 

I'm sure he'll come over to discuss it, and I'll tell him, if he doesn't know already, a large pit bull is living on his back fence, and is always sniffing at that fence.  If his kid pulls a board off of THAT fence, he could have some big trouble.  If a pit bull dog got into the yard with 2 toddlers, a baby, and 3 older children... that could be a disaster. 

I'm sure he'll take care of it; Ron and I will start locking the gate.  I've invested a lot of time and energy into my garden and I don't need the drama.  The kids want our yard, but it's not their playground, and I won't feel sorry.  A local housing company had a campaign "Kids need a yard" and I agree.   He already has the kids doubled up in the bedrooms. 

That is one thing I didn't really expect.  It appears to me, that, as a homeowner, neighbors, and their kids in particular, have a very hard time understanding property lines and boundaries.  In apartment living, your apartment/your balcony.  I only once had a problem with that. 

We lived in the third floor.  Each unit had a washer-dryer hookup and no laundry room.  I had never heard of such a thing.  It was a dreaful area, too.  They did have some nearby laundromats.  Ron bought me a washer and dryer.  I had a pretty nice container garden.  It lacked some sun but it got a few hours a day, enough to grow salad greens and such.  I would water my plants every night, and the water would drip down. 

The guy below me, on the second floor, we'll call him Tommy.  Tommy came and banged on our door one night.  Bad neighborhood, Ron had me hide while he got it.  Tommy told Ron I had to stop watering my plants.  Why?  Because the water was dripping down on his clothes. 

What?  Tommy clarified: he was washing his clothes in the tub and hanging them on the railing (against the lease!), but the water was getting on the clothes.  Ron told him about the laundromat, and told the manager (hanging clothes on the railing was a lease violation).   They sent him a letter: Don't do that.  Tommy persisted, so did I (I was working all-days and could only water when he had his clothes out).  He came up the stairs while we were at work and tore the leaves off my elephant ears, sitting outside the front door. 

I was pretty angry about it.  I got out my fish emulsion, which smells like rotting fish.  I make a rich solution and deeply watered every plant.  The water dripped down onto the clothes. 

He HAD to take them to the laundromat after that, and continued to do so until we moved.  That was the only time, in 12 years of apartment living, that I ever had a problem with someone crossing a boundary.  It's funny, the only time Ron and I didn't live on an upper floor was right before his accident.  We loved living on the third floor and the walk up the stairs curtailed a lot of manic buying sprees. 

However, since we bought the house, it has been an endless stream of everyone in our yard.  Meter men.  Strange animals.  Many, many, children.  We finally solve the problem on one side, only to have it on the other! 

I never expected that, or the constant barking problems.  I guess a lot of people think a dog and a house go together like peanut butter and jelly, but I had some time to think: yesterday, while working in the yard, I noticed that "Barky" isn't barking much.  I believe he only barks "for cause".  Many, nearby, dogs are far worse in their barking habits.  As barking goes, he's not bad.  However, we never had a single bark in any apartments. 

In Houston, though, I see ads for "pet friendly apartments" that encourage huge dogs, vicious breeds, etc.  It seems that all apartments that accept a cat, also take dogs.  If they had a cats only apartment, guaranteed quiet, and I could bring my garden (grin), I would move. 

I will sound awful as I say this: Oh, for a dog and child free subdivision.  It's an oxymoron.  I know.  Besides, it might be a lot of adults who would party.  [shrug]  Compromises, everywhere. 

Anyway, yesterday, worked in the yard most of the day.  Had a good time, got a lot done.  Spread some soil amendments and brought the plants in from a cold snap.   I had them everywhere in the bedroom last night.  Pretty funny.  Had some good talks with Ron.  I like spending time with him. 

Today, Ron gave me the day off.  I slept in as late as I dared (too late = migraine), got up, watched a little TV, took the plants out and checked the garden.  I did my God Time, and watched more TV.  Ron woke up and we went to Burger King.  We had pretty good trips, on the last one, I said "the Nth house" and she drove right past it. 

A little alarming: she couldn't count?  I prefer to think she was distracted, or overly reliant on the little GPS arrow.  I hope so.  Sometimes I get alarmed when I think about the fact: I am trusting my safety to this person. 

Came home, and Ron wanted to  sit in the garden.  It was pretty cold but I did.. and we had the drama with the little kid.   I still had a good time talking to Ron. 

I think, as a general rule, Ron and I should be in our yard when the kids are in theirs.  They are obviously poorly supervised, and we won't get "home invaders" if they know we'll catch them. 

However, we are now on the record as saying "No children in the yard, ever".  So, that should end.  If it doesn't stop I can call a spanish-speaking officer to go explain the concept of "trespassing". 

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

"Ugly:

So, now that I've vented about stupid, endless, barking; how was my morning? 

Pretty awful, actually.  Thanks for asking. 

It started with a large paratransit van (basically a short bus) pulling up.  I got on.  The driver was new, and her trainer greeted me with "You got fat!  Look at you!  You look awful!"  This continued for a couple of minutes, including "You went off the Atkins, didn't you?" [smirk]  "I can tell!  You went off your diet!  You look TERRIBLE!" 

She even made a point of telling Ron how "terrible" I looked, and "She really let herself go, didn't she?  She looks terrible". 

Now, I can understand, if you see someone you haven't seen in a while, you might have a spontaneous utterance.  "Oh, look at you!"  Something like that.  I got "What happened?"  a lot with a meaningful glance.  This time around, everyone knew, so no one asked.  God bless the gossip line. 

Anyway, I thought it was rude and incredibly offensive, bordering on verbal abuse.  The trainee kept looking back at her in the rear-view.  I thought "Go ahead and talk.  You are making yourself look awful.  You are showing who you really are.  Your true colors are shining through." 

I remembered her from before.  She is an ugly gossip, divulging what are clearly confidences.  I got out my headphones.  I love my headphones. 

She got a little aggravated when I put them on, but she couldn't order me to remove them.  Ron had already said "I know you don't like my music, put on your headphones."  He was playing his "Soul Stick" USB drive on his talking book machine, using it as a boom box.  The drivers love it. 

Now, lest you think I'm angry about this; I'm not.  The sad thing, a paratransit driver DOES have a limited amount of power in my life.  If they choose to abuse it, shame on them.  If it is egregious, I will report it. 

This was just petty, mean, and spiteful.  It could have really hurt if I VALUED what she had to say.  I didn't.  Since I already knew she was "ugly" - I didn't accept anything she said. 

I'm realistic.  I'm sure *I* sound "ugly" to dog lovers when I rant about endless barking.  That's my opinion.  I'm not saying YOUR dog is a monster.  I just don't like dogs.  

So, we had a very long ride with the trainee, and this woman.  We picked up another client, and the trainer made sure to put his wheelchair directly next to me, far away from HER.  When his hand started crawling up my leg, I understood.  Every time he did it, she would laugh, implicitly encouraging him. 

Since the guy was clearly "limited" and non-verbal, I just pushed the hand away, then put my backpack in my lap.  He kept touching my knees after that but at least his hand had stopped crawling up my thigh.  He kept vocalizing, trying to get my attention, and I found it very annoying. 

Did the driver know he'd try to feel me up?  She called him by name, sat away from him, and put him next to me, instead of Ron.  She smiled and laughed everytime he tried to grab my crotch.  I believe she did. 

I could have also traded seats with Ron, if needed.  By this time, we had been riding over an hour. 

The driver, by law, can ride the passenger around for up to 2 hours.  Per trip.  Something to consider when riding paratransit, and one reason I am a huge fan of the bus line.   I had to go to the bathroom, but I could only imagine the drama and judgemental comments that would ensue if I made a request.  They are supposed to stop if you are clearly in need, but some don't, just to be hateful, making comments like 'You need to stop drinking so much water". 

Excuse me, I need to stay hydrated.  Lithium is a diuretic. 

I elected to "hold it" rather than beg.  I am a proud woman. 

We got the other guy, and finally got to work.  I unloaded everything.  Ron was a little tardy producing the badge and keys ( he holds them since I got mugged, that way if I get mugged on a Day Out they won't get access to the vending machines), and I told him I was about to pop. 

I didn't have to explain why I hadn't asked the driver to stop. 

I got into work, and faced several complaints in a row!  I tried to pay refunds, and no one was there!  So far, my day had just SUCKED. 

However, the weather was nice.  The vending machines were behaving.  The complaint, regarding the coffee machine, was balanced by the sight of some of the biggest  gossips at work, watching Ron clean it.  I finally got to put out my new value line items, and some of them sold the minute I closed the machine. 

If I "catch" a customer about to buy something, I'll stand nearby, chanting "Buy it!  Buy it".  When the item drops I say "Thank you!"  They always laugh.  Some, of course, don't want the cheerleading and I just smile and say "Thank you". 

Ron loves my enthusiasm for work.  So do the customers. 

So, maybe not such an awful day.  I got everything done and waited on our ride. 

I liked the guy we had to go home.  He's not my favorite, but he's a good guy. 

Finally home.  So nice and quiet.  I decided to take a nap, did so.  Ron and I had a good time sitting out in the garden, talking.  It was great. 

I told him, "I don't want a car.  I don't want jewelry.  I don't want a steak dinner, or designer clothes.  I want this - quality time."  Ron laughed, and said that's about all he could afford anyway! 

A good ending. 

AND the dog catcher came by, I had seen a large, nasty thing running around yesterday.  He had it loaded in the truck.  If it was sniffing around the yard behind us, it might have provoked the barking. 

I hope we have a nice quiet night. 

Sick of barking dogs all night.

The dog behind us, barking all night.  Not a peep today.  I suspect the owners are locking him in the house during the day, and only letting him out at night to be a "guard" dog.  I really doubt the effacy of a "guard" dog that barks at everything.  How will you know the bad guy?  The bad guy will bring a gun, shoot your dog, and now your kids are out a pet in addition to the robbery and whatever else. 

Again:  I am not a fan of dogs.  I am not a fan of someone else's dog, one I don't even see, keeping me up all night every night because "I want a dog".  My cat does not keep anyone up at night.  I am not a fan of other people's dogs destroying my fence, getting onto my property, menacing me in my own yard, attacking my lawn mower, attacking my cat, etc.  I get very upset when they keep Ron from sleeping, and their barking-induced sleep deprivation aggravates my mental illness. 

Really, it is surprising I have any kind feelings toward dogs.  People always want to know why Ron doesn't have a guide dog.  Well, they're too much work.  They have a short working life.  They get sick and die.  They are not terribly reliable.  According to Ron, they also get into the trash and eat things they shouldn't, including used sanitary products. 

My cat would never do that.  He uses his corner of the yard, without any prompting.  He has NEVER had "an accident".  He doesn't bite, chew, or bark.  Wonderful pet.  He gives me all the love I'd want from a pet without any of the drama. 

Anyway, not a good start. I missed my God time, because I COULDN'T SLEEP.  It is so frustrating to me; 16 hours a day, the dog is completely silent.  All night long, bark, bark, bark.  My only consolation: the mother, and kids, have to hear it too; and it's a lot louder on their side of the fence.  The father works nights.  I think that's why they let the dog out at night "For protection" but in my opinion the fearful people like that tend to believe the dog is the only thing keeping them from violent rapists, child molesting kidnappers.  Not true. 

Like I said, a really bad guy will bring a gun, kill the dog, and do what he wants.  The dog offers a false sense of security to them, and a lot of aggravation to everyone else. 

Monday, November 14, 2011

"Treasure"

I had to laugh at myself tonight, as I sneakily "stole" several huge trash bags out of my own can and scurried to the backyard. 

It was a pretty normal morning.  We got up, went to work.  Worked.  Ron had me running around, but I did it all (mostly) and he made a point of thanking me a couple of times.  He really understands I need appreciation. 

When we came home "Flying Soccer Ball" neighbor was working in his yard with a crew.  I'm not sure what he does for a living.  The crew was clearly expert at lawn/yard care, but he knows a lot about contracting and he has a generator.  If I had to guess, an "all purpose" contractor. 

He told me he was cleaning up, and would I like some work done in my yard?  He did this, earlier this year, clearing out an overgrown corner.  He had mentioned "coming back".  The first time, I bought his crew some snacks, a case of beer, and a case of soda.  They seemed pretty happy.  He refused all offers of money. 

I said, sure, I have some "weed trees"; the ones we had discussed earlier.  He cleaned it all up. 

While the crew was working, I ordered them pizza - pepperoni, and meat lovers.  Although he had said he didn't want any pay, he seemed really happy to get the pizza. 

When it was all done, I had 2 (very large) trash cans at the curb, no weed trees, more sun in my garden.  He had raked up the leaves I'd left under the red tips.  Not really an organic fellow; I think he believes if it comes off a plant it belongs in a trash can. 

I'm the opposite, I think it should go into the compost pile.  Not to mention, mine is puny this year.  I have a few inches of dried up plant stalks and that's it.  Normally I get a lot of grass clippings. 

My ideal compost and mulch is a mixture of grass clippings and shredded leaves.  They break down quickly, into the soil. 

I wondered if I should go hunting, on garbage night.  Sometimes yard crews leave clear bags full of "treasure" at the curb.  I just need to make sure the house doesn't have a dog in the yard.  How revolting that would be! 

One of my fondest garden memories involves me, Ron, the wheelchair, and a couple of bags of "treasure" late one night.  He held them in his lap as I pushed him home, and I put them in the garden. 

Hey, if it's at the curb, it is free for the taking.  It went to compost and grew lovely plants. 

So, tonight, I was looking at the garbage cans by the street, lamenting the loss of my lovely red-tip leaves.   He had asked for trash bags.  Hm.  I  wondered.  I opened the can.  Several large trash bags in there. 

I poked them.  "Treasure" - a mix of shredded grass and leaves.  They were already heating up, indicating they were ideal for compost and soil amendment. 

After a furtive glance at his house, I started dragging them out, into the back yard, and unloading them into the bin.  I spread one in the potato patch and hid another one in a large pot.  I got about 7 bags, including the red tip leaves. 

I'd planned to go to the garden center.  However, after buying the pizzas today my budget's a little tight.  I had reluctantly concluded I would have to settle for a few bags of quality organic soil amendments.  I wondered how I could make my entire budget stretch though the garden.  What would be ideal. 

And I got my answer.  Compost, of course, is the best soil amendment.  I can "sheet compost" by spreading "treasure" a few inches deep and letting it rot into the soil.  I do plan to cover it up, though, with some peat moss.  I [plan to add some cotton burr compost and maybe some "soil conditioner". 

I just had to laugh at myself, sneaking around in my own yard, the cat scampering at my feet, and thinking:

I HAVE to put this in my blog. 

Sunday, November 13, 2011

It wasn't the peanut butter

Whoo.  Crazy weekend. 

It was lovely; 60/80 degrees, partly sunny, breezy, and humid.  Perfect garden weather. 

I got up pretty early on Saturday, went to Foodtown, and got some groceries.  Some local slang refers to it as "making groceries". 

Well, God made them.  I just bought some.  I have a huge sack full of product for work, too. 

We came home, and I decided to do some yard work.  I weeded the garden, did some pruning, planting, planted my salad garden (spicy greens and lettuce), and started some seeds for my aunt and uncle.  Busy. 

After I finished on Saturday, I came in the house, took my shower, and got ready to go to a BBQ place.  I will not name names for reasons to follow. 

We got there, Ron ordered some meat, and I got a chopped beef.  It was good, but pretty fatty.  [Honestly, I would have rather had one of my cheddarburgers.  Oh, yum.]  We had a good ride to come home, but by the time I got to the house I was horribly queasy.  Then the lithium kicked in (it can boost the immune system), and I took a nap. 

When I got up, I had to run to the bathroom to avoid a "Code Brown".  This persisted, with horrendous cramps and bloating, for most of the night. 

I   blame the BBQ.  I was fine until I ate it.  I had peanut butter for breakfast, Saturday, and I ate more today - I was fine.  It wasn't the peanut butter.   Now, I ordered two sandwiches, ate one, and saved the other one.  You couldn't pay me to eat it! 

However, Ron doesn't believe it was the BBQ.  He likes the food and thinks I am just "delicate" (paraphrase).   We usually have Tuedays off.  So, he plans to eat it Monday night, "proving" to me the BBQ is fine. 

I'm glad I will be out of the house!  I'll put some powerade in the fridge. 

I was losing a lot of fluid, and I love powerade.  It has good flavors, and the zero has exactly that much sugar - zero.  It sure works for hydration.  I always keep some on hand. 

I can't exactly run to the grocery store like THAT, and it is very difficult for  Ron to go out on his own.  I always prefer to have that kind of stuff on hand. 

Sick?  OK, let's go open the cabinet.  Cough?  Vomiting?  Whatever, I've got it. 

Most of the stuff can be purchased at the Dollar store.  I mean, a real dollar store, not one of those $1 an item, and up, places. 

I went to bed very early last night, woke up pretty early this morning.  I felt pretty good.  I did my God time, ate a cautious breakfast, and went out into the garden.  Somewhere as I was lugging the half bale of peat moss, and the 40 pound sack of cow manure, I realized I felt pretty good. 

Today, I planted a lot of seeds and started work on the potato bed.  I have really excellent soil and sun exposure in Garden Bed One.  It is 4 feet wide and 7 feet long.  The length  runs north to south.  I have a gorgeous frilly purple kale at the south end.  I planted it back in 2009.  I'm extremely fond of it.  I put a few potted plants around the base so I won't disturb the roots.  Basically, salad greens, in those long, skinny, "windowbox" pots will circle the base of the kale.  At the north end, I want to grow potatoes.  Last year, I put some in Garden Bed 5.  That's when my world was completely gone to hell and it looked like I might have to move out. 

I planted them anyway.  They didn't get a whole lot of soil preparation, but I still got some nice looking potatoes off each plant.  It was a lot of fun digging them up - but I did freak out when the tops all died.  I thought I had killed them - but they are supposed to do that. 

This year, I decided to put a little more effort into the potatoes.  I have some nice red and white fingerling potatoes, and the yukon golds from last year.  I saved some for "seed", they're starting to sprout. 

I am, technically a "biointensive" gardener.  What does that mean?  Wiki link

In my case, I adapted various methods from different programs.  Firstly, I started by watching the yard, finding the good sunny spots.  You can't grow plants without sun. 

I grew plants, in large pots, to see how they did in the various areas.  They favored the north side of the yard, it got the most sun.  I have tree issues on the south side of the yard and it's always shady.  The pots tended to congregate on the north east side to the middle of the yard. 

Then I called 811 - I have underground utilties.  I had plants to dig up a lovely garden bed in the middle of the yard.  Then the nice man started putting flags in the yard, telling me "The gas line is only down a couple of inches here"  The electrical cut more footage, and pretty soon I had about 15x17 feet of prime garden area. 

I have "foiled" the underground utilties, in the summer the mid-yard gets plenty of sun so I grow things in very large pots, sitting on top of the ground.  This year, I had potatoes, and amaranth. 

I marked out my garden area, after compromise with Ron.  He didn't want "garden" near the house, but has since relented.  I can have large pots near the back door. 

I had about 20X20 feet, but I looked at my surveyor papers and realized I needed to watch my easement.  I lost about 3 feet on the north fence,  and 4 on the east fence (all the underground utilies run in from there). 

So, I marked out my area.  A few hundred square feet. 

Now, I did the smart thing.  I collected soil for the soil test.  I got my results back "Unusually high level of fertility, lacks magnesium, calcium, and potassium".  I got a lot more than that.  I got the organic reccomendation. 

I make a point of using kelp meal, gypsum, a dab of epsom salts, and a lot of cottonseed meal in the garden.  I like cottonseed meal because it is pretty balanced, a local product, safe, and cheap.  The garden loves it.  I go easy on the bone meal because my phosphorus is fine.  My Ph is near 7, ideal. 

Next thing, I dug up garden bed one.  Many, many garden books think people hate to dig (I love it).  They tell you, just pile up dirt on the ground, frame it, and start growing!

DON'T DO IT. 

A few of the things I found while digging my garden beds:  13 gallons' worth of styrofoam take-out trash.  Large sheets of shingles.  A huge piece of concrete, about 4 feet long and 2 feet thick.  Metal cans, a metal chain, a dog collar, and other assorted junk.  It wasn't a garden, it was a TRASH can. 

I dug it out, to about 3 feet.  I removed all the bermuda grass.  I put the soil into a wheelbarrow, and mixed in good things (you name it, old potting soil, compost, cow manure, leaves, grass clippings, pretty much anything organic),   Then I went after the soil, down about 2-4 feet deep.  I stirred all that up really well, added good stuff, and then put the wheelbarrow stuff on top.  Basically, "double digging", but I triple dug and am I glad I did.  Can you imagine trying to grow a tomato ontop of that giant piece of concrete? 

Of course I did all this when manic! 

I put in emerald edging.  Wonderful stuff, keeps all the bad plants out of the garden.  The pieces installed in 2005 are still fine. 

Then, I put mulch on top.  Kind of challenging, for a long time, getting mulch.  Generally had to pay someone to drive me to the store, I'd buy it, put it in the truck, and then bring it home and unload it. 

HOWEVER - I found a garden center that delivers anything I buy for $20.  Love them - actually doing it later this week. 

I have always tried to keep AT LEAST a couple of inches of mulch on top of the soil.  Generally used, grass clippings and wood mulch.  I do bring home coffee grounds now and then, spread them around.  Worms love old grounds.  The stuff rots down and improves the soil.  I just need to replenish, and I have great soil. 

That's it.  So, over the course of years I built my garden beds:
Bed 1 - 7x4 feet
Bed 2-3 - I joined them, so it is 4 x 11 feet. 
Bed 4 - shadier, not as good soil (I tried amending with large bark, instead of ground) 4x4 - good for partly sunny  to shade lovers who don't like a rich meal (Collards have been consistent)
Bed 5 - 4x4 - grew the potatoes last year.  Plan to grow sugar snaps, collards, and fava beans this year. 

Bed 6 is off outside the computer room, mostly shaded, I did that this year.  It is on a slope so I had to terrace it.  Leafy greens, an Acerola Cherry bush/tree, and a parsley.  The parsley in bed 5 died, this one kept going. 

I also have a small, ornamental flower bed out front.  It mainly has some jasmine right now. 

I have pathways in between the garden beds.  I need to resurface them, more landscape fabric and some of that rubber mulch.   I built a raised bed for the fig tree, in "Heatherworld" - what Ron calls my garden.  The bed is about 3 feet high, 4x4.  Built out of cinderblocks.  It was amazing, how much soil I needed for fill.  I was taking shovelsful out of the lawn! 

I will, most likely, be using Garden Bed 5 for a grapevine.  I would like some fresh fruit in addition to the veggies. 

Right now, in the ground, I have kale, collards, fava beans (planted),  a vine from the curcurbit family that has sprouted in my "mint" planter (mint is all dead anyway), and started running up a trellis.  The fruit is some kind of round, green, ball.  I am very curious.  I gave it some cottonseed meal the other day and it greened up.  Chard, a parsley, and that's it. 

In large pots, I have amaranth (lovely to look at and tasty greens), collards (that's where I put the "Vates" Heather!),  a gorgous purple kale (I have a weakness for purple kale).  The ones by the north fence (the soccer family) have tomato cages to protect plants from flying soccer balls.  In smaller pots, I have 3 lovely  red chard, scattered around. 

I have some long, windowbox planters, about 3 square feet total, planted in salad greens.  I'm partial to Oakleaf lettuce, and I got a huge packet at the seed store for $2.  I love a good bitter green in my salad but Ron does not.  I have my own planter, for me. 

The salad stuff is frost sensitive, so I can bring it in the house if we get some freezing weather.  The leafy cooking greens laugh at freezes.  The amaranth would not, but the pot is enormous (I could bathe in it), so I'd just harvest it.  I let it go to seed, on purpose, and it will resprout.  These are 2nd generation plants.  I'd get a 3rd. 

To plant, potatoes, sugar snap peas, and onions.  It's a little warm for the latter, so I'm waiting a few weeks.  If I can wear shorts in the garden, probably not their time. 

I have to go to bed early tonight, so I'm off.  I have a good free garden book I got off Amazon.  It's from 1911, and very entertaining. 

Friday, November 11, 2011

For Dad

Tonight, I thanked my Dad on Facebook.  He's a veteran.  I had fun addressing him by "rank".  [grin]  He was an officer. 

Dad was out of the service by the time I came into his life.  I told him tonight I was proud of him, and I meant it. 

I later went back and "corrected", telling him I'm proud of him, every day of the year.  I am. 

From what I've seen, little kids are always asking "Why?"  Dad would always (and still does) take the time to answer the question in detail. 

He is a very committed man.  I don't know all the details of his marriage to my birth mother, but I know this: he stayed with an alcoholic, unmedicated, bipolar woman for 10 years.  She left him.  Most men would have run screaming after a year. 

He's been married to my adoptive mother for over 30 years; quite an accomplishment these days.  It's obvious they have a healthy bond, I can tell they enjoy spending time together. 

This might embarrass him if he reads it, but he's very loving.  When he was a single Dad, he used to sit me down with cookies (nilla wafers) and milk, and we'd talk. More likely, I'd chatter at him (I still tend to do that). When I got the chicken pox, he took me to the doctor. I remember, lying in my bed, miserable and feverish. Dad kept checking on me, opening my door and looking in on me, and refilling the humidifier as it ran dry.


I remember, during his single parent days, how he used to take me to the eye doctor, and how much fun I had going to the optician to pick out my frames.  The best part of all, I thought, was picking up the new glasses.  He'd take me for ice cream all the way up through my teen years.  When I was about age 10, he told me "I'll buy you a scoop of ice cream for every touchdown you witness by the home team."  "What's a touchdown, Dad?"  [grin]
 
Who could forget the fun of a trip to the grocery store?  It was the highlight of my week.  He'd start at one end, stocking up on essentials like peanut butter, mayonaise, and white bread.  I ate a lot of those peanut butter and mayo sandwiches.  I love Dad, but hate them.  I was so enthralled when Dad's "girlfriend" (later my adoptive mother) made me a peanut butter and JELLY! 
 
While at the grocery store, I'd be sitting in the cart, with my legs sticking out through the holes.  We had a contract, every time - if I was a good girl, I'd get a treat when we got the produce department.  Sometimes, if Dad was feeling "silly" he'd run and push the cart, then release it and watch me squeal as I rolled away. 
 
Finally, the end of the trip!  Dad would select his produce, and time for my reward - a fresh grape!  One memorable time, he got me TWO grapes- one black, one white!  I still love grapes.  I didn't get one if I was a brat. 

He used to work very long hours, especially after he remarried - he had 4 new family members.  He raised her kids as if they were his own, and their children call him "Grand-dad".  Dad used to look in on me, late at night, as I'd sleep.  Sometimes I'd still be awake, and play possum.  If he got home before my bedtime, he'd help me "say my prayers" and listen to me talk about my day.  Good memories. 

I guess you could say that set part of the foundation for my God Time.  We attended church every week, and I was pretty timid. 

As I got older, I suspect I was a little restless, because Dad turned to me one week and said "Here, read this." as he handed me a Bible.  I wish I had a photo of that moment!  That's how it ALL started! 

I read the Bible, became enthralled, and the rest is history.  I remember one time during coffee hour after church, one parishoner said I'd learned more during the sermon, than he had.  My Sunday School teachers hated it, because I already knew all the good stories. 

When I was 8, the church gave me Bible I still own.  It's pretty battered, but very well loved.  I wouldn't give it up for anything.  It's one of the few things I took with me when I moved out. 

As I got sick, Dad did everything he could to help me.  I remember the day I was hospitalized for depression, Dad bought me a candy bar and a can of soda as I waited for the ambulance to take me to the hospital.  He stayed with me until I was admitted.  When I got out, he paid for many, many counseling sessions. 

When I met Ron, Dad was horrified.  Here was a blind, 37 year old man with limited employment prospects after his daughter.  Amazingly, Dad didn't kill him.  They get along great now, and when Dad tells me he likes Ron, I know he means it. 

I was pretty horrible to Dad for a good 8 years after that.  Bipolar disorder.  Dad just hung in there, probably relieving horrible times, and I know he did a lot of praying. 

Even after all that, when I called to tell him about Ron's accident he immediately offered to fly out.  He also helped with some bills, and paid for the wedding when Ron and I FINALLY got married! 

When I found out I had bipolar disorder, he was tremendously supportive.  As Ron's problems escalated, he was very supportive.  It's great to know I have Dad in my corner.  It's wonderful to know they both pray for Ron and I, every day of the year. 

I love you, Dad.  Thanks for being there!

Spuds

Pretty groggy and forgetful today.  I bounced back into a very mild mania, and I was happy to get it, when I was forgetting things and having trouble talking. 

Yesterday, I bought some fingerling potatoes at the grocery store.  I had hoped maybe they'd sprout, as a few of the lighter skinned ones sported an obvious green tinge.  Green is actually good for growing, but completely toxic for eating.  Two of them are sprouting.  Good. 

I plan to take them, and the Yukon Golds I got from my spring harvest, and plant a 4 foot square in my garden.  I'll need to till up the soil, add some peat moss, and acifify the soil a bit.  That helps prevent disease.  The peat moss will break down quickly in my climate and I already have a partial bale.  I'll also add some compost, etc. 

I should be fine, because I haven't used that garden bed for potatoes, or other tomato family plants (did you know they were related?  So are peppers and eggplants) for a couple of years.  The soil is in good shape, too. 

Will it work at this time of year?  The authorities are divided, but the seed potato retailer (a company I used many years ago - for regular seed) made it sound very feasible.  If I get hammered with a lot of frosts, I'll have a reduced crop, assuming I did not cover the potatoes - which I would, because I have a small garden.  The garden bed gets a tremendous amount of sun, especially in the winter. 

It's about a month before my first frost date.  I'll keep you posted.  I plan to plant my fava beans (some at least) and sugar snap peas (also, some), too, but not near the potatoes.  They don't "like" each other per the companion planting guides.

It keeps me busy and occupied with minimal money spent.  I'll be getting my soil amendments delivered next week or the week after. 

In Houston, I basically have a year-round garden.  Winter is more potatoes, green things, broccoli, peas, fava beans, and onions.    Carrots, too, if I were interested.  Spring, pretty much anything: tomatoes, squash, beans, and all the winter stuff except fava beans.  Summer, pretty limited, just the hot weather stuff like sweet potatoes, eggplant, peppers, and okra.  I grew amaranth as a salad green this summer, during a horrible heat wave, and it performed well.  Fall is pretty much the same as spring, but tomatoes are iffier. 

That's it for my garden plans, tonight. 

Guarding it

I didn't sleep very well last night.  The dog behind us kept barking, all night long.  I kept waking up.  Not only that, I had nightmares about my compost pile. 

There's something really sad about that, having nighmares about the compost.  I will address it today.  Basically, I have to take the "cozy, dry, refuge" away.  I have ideas on that. 

I have also read that mint repells - them.  So, I'll be buying some mint (the garden center had some lovely mints, and I'd love to grow some anyway) and plant it all around the pile.  The plants will love the nutrients and moisture.  I will love the fact they're guarding it for me. 

When I kept waking up, I'd pray.  I have a bad tendency, in my faith life, to ONLY pray during my God Time.  God loves to hear from me, not just then.  I need to work on that. 

I work on appreciating the good things in my life, and thanking God for them.  I think that is important. 

Yesterday, I saw something at the grocery store I found profoundly sad.  It's one of those huge grocery stores, very large, acres and acres of merchandise. 

I was looking for the fava beans.  I found myself on the candle aisle.

I love candles.  These, however, were religious candles.  In my own opinion I think God doesn't care if you burn a candle.  I like to burn incense when I do my God Time but that's just a fun little ritual for me.  When I have a headache, and can't, I am certain God still hears my prayers. 

As I looked closer, I realized that while many of them were the traditional "Catholic" style (and I have a few in my disaster kit - they are very long burning), many of them were Santeria candles.  It was a huge, long display, at least 30 feet, with several shelves.  They even had special "powders" and oils.  "Look at me"  "Favor from judge", etc.   They also use special charms, etc.  Information on santeria

How profoundly sad.  Santeria, basically, is a hybrid of Catholic and Pagan practices.  It began with Yoruba slaves, kidnapped and sold into slavery.  They were not "permitted" to practice their native religion, so they used Catholic saints as "covers".  While they appeared to be praying to St Matthew, for instance, they were actually praying to something else entirely. 

Am I scared?  No.  When I told Ron, he was chided me to get out of there, but I told him "My God is a lot stronger than their god".  Did I buy anything?  Play with the merchandise?  No, I just looked at it, briefly, and got out of there, looking for my fava beans. 

You wouldn't think a pagan "religion" would be so popular in Texas, in this milennia, but it is.  Boy, is it popular, according to the merchandise display. 

I think the saddest item was the love candle.  It was in a clear glass, had images on the glass, red wax.  It had a "prayer" on the side you apparently recited while lighting the candle, asking (something) to bring you love, so you could enjoy the acts of love. 

How very, very, sad.  Of course I'm already praying for them, but when I see stuff like that, and realize how many people have this "magic" crap in their homes, it makes me want to crank it up. 

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Video Blog!



I forgot to add, I also got some fingerling potatoes from the grocery store. I plan to try to sprout them and grow some this winter. Also purchased at the garden center, not mentioned, a nice, vareigated scented geranium with nicely cut foilage. Smells minty. I have it in a window.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Not a Good Day Out

Allen, you have some great ideas!  I've been catching up with the garden, lately.

Yesterday was very, very, funny.  I woke up with a horrible headache.  I almost vomited, it was so bad.  I took my generic "Headache Relief Tablets"  and tried to go back to bed.  The caffeine in the pills ensured I wouldn't get any sleep.

I took my shower, and wondered if I would see any rain today.  I did my God Time, took some more headache pills (4 hours after the first dose, I don't want to roast my liver), and checked the weather.

Ron's favorite weather program said it would rain after 2.  Mine said, after 11.  It was about 10:30.

When I checked on Ron, he was lying in bed asleep.  I got my stuff water proofed (i.e. - no Kindle, no Bible, bring poncho and extra plastic bags, bring plastic bag for cell phone), and prepared to leave.   My feet were kind of achy - I think I have a mild case of plantar fasciitis.  I am certain that is not spelled properly.  I put on my "good" shoes and opened the front door.

Right as Ron came out of his room.  I gave him a quick hug and ran off.  I made it to the bus stop, in time for my ride.  I called Ron and apologized for running off on him.  He understood, and hoped I had fun.

I had to put the phone in the bag - a zip top quart bag, if you ever needed the information.  It was starting to drizzle.  I did a lot of praising God (quietly, don't want to scare people), and thanking Him.  I asked for more, as much as He felt we could handle.  I asked for rain to fill our reservoirs, no flooding, etc.

I spent a lot of time talking to God.   We are in a dreadful drought and desperately need any rain we can get.  I'm sure He is happy to hear it.

My feet were getting pretty achy.  Where was my bus?  I called Ron once the drizzle stopped.  The bus broke down.

I waited, almost an hour, on the next one.  My feet were SCREAMING.  No bus bench.  I did ask for one when I filled out a customer service survey.

I hobbled on the bus, making a successful effort to keep my mouth shut when the driver asked me how I was doing.  I just nodded, waved my pass, and sat down - thank you Jesus.

I had to make a deposit, so I did that.  The headache was trying to come back, my feet ached miserably, and the sky was turning black.

So much for Ron's weather forecast.  I went to my connecting bus bench and sat down for a while.  I watched the clouds boiling up and blackening.  I thought about my headache, and my feet.

I thought "Why don't I just go home?  This is not a good Day Out".   I did that.

I passed a chicken place, on the way, and got Ron some takeout.  Boy, he loved it.  I tied it up in my plastic bag right as the sky opened up.

I stood there, in the deluge, and I had to laugh.  I'm standing by the road, in the pouring rain, with a killer headache and feet that feel about 90 years old.  I can't even drive.  I'm stuck here, waiting on a bus, and praying to God this one didn't break down, too.

I laughed at myself, and my life, for a while.  I had to, really.  It was ludicrous.  I think sometimes, about the irony of God choosing to use someone as "broken" as me.  I think He could do "better" but then I remind myself God does not want "powerful" people.  He wants people willing to be used, so His power   can work.

I kept standing there on my aching feet, wondering when the bus would arrive, the chicken in my tote bag, wondering if my garden was getting any rain.  People in cars stared at me as they drove by.  One man offered me a ride.  He seemed nice, but no way, ever.  I was nice about it.

Even if I knew someone who offered me a ride, while I was standing in the pouring rain at the bus stop, I don't know that I would accept.  Especially if the car had nice seats.  Me in my vinyl poncho, dripping wet, all over the nice seats?  No.

The bus came, and I got on with the chicken.  It reminded me of a time, a few years ago.  I was riding the bus, and I kept smelling fried chicken.  It was very strong.  I kept thinking I was hallucinating - I can end up smelling things that don't exist.  I was really bothered by it, until a lady got off with a huge takeout bag from a fried chicken store.  I felt so relieved.  [snort]

My food wasn't apparent, I hope they didn't have anyone with psychotic issues - actually they did.  Manic Guy got on the bus.

Manic Guy is clearly bipolar.  He drinks.  He is always very flushed and reeks of alcohol.  He will rant and rave at anyone on the bus, generally about conspiracies, etc.  One day he was ranting about "Those Mexican Invaders ruining our country" and half the bus was hispanic.  I expect, one day, he will either kill, or be killed, by someone.

He got on, clearly manic, ranting about the wrath of God, how "our country is enslaved to islam and God is angry about it, that's why he's letting us suffer!" He got right into someone's face.  THAT'S WHY GOD IS LETTING US SUFFER!  Then he started ranting about gay people.

Dude.  Shut up.

Now, if you ever wondered what I think about the whole "gay" thing - the Bible is clear God doesn't like it.  The Bible is also clear on many other things God doesn't like.  Many of them are sins I commit on a regular basis.  I am no better than anyone else.  I knew 2 wonderful Christian men who were gay.  They chose to be celibate.  I thought that sounded wise.  What you do with your sex organs is between you and God.

Anyway, I don't go around shrieking God's vengeance at ANYONE.  God can do His own convicting, His own judging.

I desperately wanted to gag the man.  But I think God throws him at me now and then to remind me TAKE YOUR PILLS, AS DIRECTED.  He is, like, a boogeyman for me.  Take your pills or you will end up like him.

Best of all, ManicMan got off after I did, so that meant he saw my stop.  AGH.

I got off, still pouring (we got over an inch in my yard, per the rain gauge), and trudged home, carrying the chicken.  I didn't know, but Ron was, at the time, "Blowing up my cell phone" with repeated pleas for me to call a cab, which he'd pay for.

By the time the cab would have arrived, the rain had stopped anyway.

Ron met me at the door, with a couple of towels.  I thought that was really sweet, and a good example of "Acts of Service" love language.  I gave Ron his "Acts of Service" - the bag of chicken, which he gobbled eagerly, making yum yum noises.

I took some more "Headache Tablets" - they generally work very well.  I watched the rain, glad I had come home.  Glad we were getting rain, and making a point to thank God for it.

The headache crawled off, still snarling, and the sun came out.  Yeah.  I took a nap, had nightmares.  That  means the headache was probably a migraine.

I watched TV for a while.  Ron and I spent so much time chatting later, we didn't get enough sleep.  Oh, well.

Got up, I had chosen to do my God Time later.  Did that.  Got ready for work.  It was warmish, forecast to be in the 70's.  The air had a nasty bite under the heat, and I brought my coat.  Glad I did.

Went to work, got it done, and left.  We went to the wholesale warehouse and got more supplies.  Yay.  My machines will not suck with empty staring coils.  I hate empty coils in my snack machines.

Came home, took a nap - needed it.  Ron and I went to Starbucks, I had an eggnog steamer.  It was very nut-meggy.  Ron got his latte with lots of splenda.  He tried a sip of my drink and told me "I don't know if I like it".  I thought that was funny.

We even held hands for a little bit, talking about various things.  I have a very bad tendency, which you may have noted, to focus on negative things.  I am working on that.

Happily, I was "hypomanic" - very mildly "up" but not obnoxious (like the dreaded ManicMan) or overly chatty.  Ron said I was "fine".  We had a good ride home.

I had a good time looking at my garden books, and I have tomorrow off.  And yay, on Friday I can go into work and fill up my vending machines!

I really enjoy my job.

Torbie on my feet

Two days in one, again.  I got up at 7 AM (late for me) yesterday and we went to Walmart.  I finally found a canister for the dry cat food...