Not a bad day

I don't feel manic, but Ron's been making his "Yaka-yaka" motormouth noise at me, the last couple days.  I've been getting a lot done, too. 

Torbie got into my bed last night and slept with me for hours.  It was great.  I sure love my kitty girls. 

Today we got up, went to work (our ride was very late but we still had plenty of time), did all the end of the month stuff, plus stocking.  I even took out the rolling dumpster. 

After work, we came home.  I checked the mail (almost impossible when depressed) finding Raquel Welch's autobiography.  Ron's really enjoying it.  I never know what Ron's ordered until I open the mailbox. 

I made a batch of laundry soap, kind of made a mess mixing, but happily washing soda and borax are no more dangerous than the soap flakes.  Since I had the detergent powder on the tile floor, I decided to sweep the house (I don't think I ever sweep when I'm depressed).  I did laundry.  Cooked my dinner.  You get the idea. 

I've learned I like the "Kipper snacks" but not the "Fish Steaks" which have a very nasty backbone.  Kipper snacks are just slabs of meat.  I ate a can for lunch.  I'm posting again on my fitday so you can look (right hand sidebar). 

I lost another pound, too.  Ron was even appreciative of my hard work. 

Not a bad day. 

Minus 4

Oh, I'm tired, so I'll keep it short. 

Ron and I ran a lot of errands today.  I found myself really hungry at Walmart, so I bought a can of vienna sausage and ate that.  It tastes pretty good when I'm hungry. 

We went home, I took a nap.  I didn't need as long a nap, which I find promising.  Either 1.  I'm getting manic (possible) or 2. low carb is reducing my fatigue. 

I was also down 4 pounds, from yesterday, and I made sure to stay hydrated.  I drank about 4 quarts of water just lying in bed last night. 

I also lost another inch off my waist.  Now, I know a lot of times it's glycogen being depleted, but it's still cool. 

After I got up, I mixed some essential oils into some warmed cocoa butter cream.  It smells nice and should help with stretch marks. 

I was so worried I might not lose this time.  I'm glad to see I was wrong. 

My eating one vegetable at every meal policy seems to help. 

We went to get Popeyes.  The store, in my opinion, is not well managed.  A lot of running around and scrambling - yelling.  The back of the house had them well supplied with chicken, but the front of the house couldn't make the orders quickly. 

Ron loves the spicy chicken, so he got his usual and ate his usual 3 pieces (OK per blood sugar meter).   It took forever to get the food, when we did I gave it to Ron and went to McDonald's. 

I got a couple bunless cheeseburgers (ask them to make it plain with ketchup and the bun slides right off) and a side salad - for my vegetable with every meal.  I forgot to get a drink. 

I ate my food and even coaxed Ron into trying a bite.  He said it was good, he wanted one for himself next time.  Good.  I do want him eating more vegetables.  I ate the salad and the burgers, we came home.

The cable guy has come by a few times lately, and Ron decided to give him a try.  We are paying a lot for satellite. 

I'd be happy with a very basic package, but Ron said no, he wanted the better one.  OK.  It's his TV, too.  We got that. 

I do know all my favorite channels, like Ion and A&E, are included, so I'm happy.  Of course they have local news, I like channel 13, and the Weather Channel - which about finishes my TV package. 

They come next week to install. 

Whoo.  I'm tired.  I may go to bed early. 

Not hearing me lately

Well, I got my shower and my God Time today.  The rest of it sucked pretty massively. 

Ron was in his usual black mood.  It is really hard to stay positive - it's like being with a highly infectious flu patient - a supercarrier.  It is so hard to keep his negativity from infecting me. 

I woke up with a pretty bad headache which evolved into a migraine.  I'm still battling that. 

OK - this is going to be a huge pity party - the thing that bothers me the most about Ron.  No way around it.

So, I had to get the "Galaxy" order.  It has about 20 cases of bottled soda, 2 cases of bottled water, and over 12 cases of canned soda.  I was able to get the first two, but not the last; my sandwich guy called early. 

I got the sandwiches and stocked them.  Ron was being very negative and gloomy.  He was also being pretty rude to me and taking me for granted.  I don't expect him to throw rose petals in my path but it would be nice if he didn't bark at me. 

"God" I asked "Can You rebuke him?"  I knew that, while I could go confront Ron, he wouldn't receive it and things would just escalate.  Besides, my regulars were coming in and I did not want them to hear Ron cursing me out.  "He won't take it from me, but he isn't treating me right.  Please have someone hold him accountable for this." 

I stocked a couple cases of canned soda (the stuff we'd run out of needed stocking, now that we had the delivery), and as I bent over I was hit with a horrific wave of pain.  I had a huge, crushing, spasming agony in my chest. 

[Bad Word]  The spasms were back.  From a psychosomatic viewpoint, I'm sure they showed up because I am tired of holding back my viewpoint about Ron's negativity. 

In the meantime, I felt like I was having a heart attack.  I have never had a formal diagnosis (no insurance for most of my married life), but I knew it was this: esophogeal spasms  Ugh.  It was horrible. 

I *have* had this before, and didn't die.  My mineral levels (sodium, potassium) are probably all out of whack as I go low-carb, and add the emotional stress...

At any rate I felt ghastly.  I just about finished it and closed the machine, walking over to the "parking lot" where we keep unused carts (so Ron can grab it without bugging me).  As I parked it, Ron started barking at me again. 

I know I sounded "mortal" when I told him "I can't help you, I need to sit down."  When he realized I was really sick he had a lot to say to God, but did encourage me to sit down.  He yelled at me when he "caught" me opening a soda machine (I thought a cold soda would help, but I was wrong).  It took me a minute or two to convince him I was only "taking" a drink and not stocking. 

So, Ron was civil to me for a while, quiet during my nap without the usual rude comments "Again?  Boy, you sleep a lot!"  I concluded, nice as it was to have some "peace", it was still not worth the pain. 

This was on top of a migraine.  At one point I went to the bathroom, pretty sure I was about to vomit, but I didn't. 

Our ride, praise God, was waiting outside.  The driver was a nice guy but a little lacking in the safety department.  It's really a bad idea to rummage around in your bag, looking into the bag, instead of the road, while traveling a very busy freeway.  Not really happy about that. 

Ironic: you know I am a Bible Thumper, pretty [censored] devout by any standard; however, he had the most annoying "Praise Jesus" music on at full volume and it was KILLING my head.  I kept telling him I didn't feel well, had a headache, etc... but he didn't recieve it. 

What is it with men not hearing me lately? 

They seduced me

I'm in kind of a dark mood lately, thanks to the depression.  I warned you. 

I can't decide if it is ironic, pathetic, or just plain sad - underage girlfriends with adult men enrage me. 

But Heather, you may say, "You dated Ron when you were underage.  He was 37, you were 17 and well under the age of consent.  Doesn't that make you a hypocrite?"  Maybe. 

I'm not angry at Ron, although some might say I should be.  He knew I was under 18, the age of consent, in CA, in 1992.  He continued to take my phone calls (I always called the guy I was dating, they rarely called me - which is really sad).  He continued to meet me for our assignations.  He helped plan them. 

It's possible he manipulated and used me - more than possible, likely.  However, God can use all things for good and God is making a decent husband out of him. 

Everytime I hear a man talking about his underage girl, it's always the same thing "Oh, those girls look so old, I didn't know.  She took advantage of me.  I didn't know until after we had sex."    Here's a thought, check her ID before you have sex.  If she doesn't have ID she is definitely off-limits! 

One driver said it well "When I give the prosititutes a ride, I can spot the underage ones a mile away.  They may be dressed up, wearing skimpy clothes, hair and makeup done, but you can tell they are babies.  I don't get anywhere near them, or the other hookers, either." 

I find it enraging that a man would take advantage of a child (one neighbor of mine, at the last place, got caught with a 12 year old!), and then turn around and say "She took advantage of me.  She just did it to get me in trouble." 

And there you've got a pregnant 14 year old, her life is over as she knows it.   Terrible. 

I hear all kinds of child molesters pull the old "They seduced me" routine. 

Blind to see

It's never a good moment when Ron barks "Shut the 'F' up!" while we're riding home.

I had a pretty good day; Ron did not.  I'm starting to cycle manic, I think.  Ron woke up in a very bad mood, resentful he "had" to work. 

I bet a couple million people in America would love to "have" to work today; but he wouldn't receive it. 

I woke up pretty depressed.  I did my God Time later on (before I used the computer).  I did get my shower and put on my new perfume. 

Now, in its defense, it did travel during the hottest time of the year.  It smells great, but it doesn't stick!  It's very annoying!  I don't feel ripped off but I do feel frustrated.  I also have acidic skin, which is hard on perfumes, but I can wear plenty of other things. 

We went to the warehouse.  I got my merchandise, finally able to stock the snack machines.  When I got to work, they weren't as bad as I remembered.  I was glad of that, and I was able to turn "mostly empty" into "almost stuffed".  I always ask God to guide me in all that - selection and presentation. 

I was very busy at work, and Ron kept asking for my help.  I helped him.  He was just very sullen and resentful.  Complaining a lot. 

I want to tell him "No one will want to come in here and buy something if they have to hear all that".  However, correcting him when he's in the mood won't work.  I have tried. 

So, I just decided, he's in a bad mood - I was getting manic by this point (in part due I think to a bad night of sleep) - he can stay in his bad mood and I will enjoy my good mood.  That's all I can do when he's like this, either that or let him drag me down until I'm as miserable. 

After work we went to Walmart (we had really good rides all day).  Ron said I had "Over an hour" and asked to sit up front.  I would have been happy to shop with him, but he was in a pretty bad mood and refused. 

I made my deposit and got a jar of coconut oil. I hear good things, and I think I feel a little sharper after consuming a small amount.  If that's accurate, that would be great. 

I looked at Milk Thistle after that, but they didn't have the "good" kind (you want 175 mg of Silymarin).  Then off to the meats. 

Canned meats, that is.  I have concluded it is better to eat a low carb can of sardines than to eat a high carb TV dinner.  I took my time looking at the choices.  I got a pouch of the salmon (easy to eat out of my backpack), some vienna sausage (I like them plenty if I'm hungry), some vienna sausage for Ron (which I haven't put on the counter yet), and the red and white "Kipper Snacks".  They are really good.  They cost a little more, but still about the price of a regular candy bar.  If I'm spending money on food, I want it to be quality food. 

Later on, I also got some sugar snap peas and celery.  I love both.  It took me a while to find the "good" celery.  They had already prepared celery sticks, which I put in my cart, but I couldn't find the regular celery.  I finally found it after about 5 minutes, at the very bottom of the produce display.  And Ron wonders why "I need so long" at Walmart! 

That was about it for me, I did want to get some yogurt, though. 

I have been pretty queasy the last couple days as my body goes to low-carb.  I was in pretty bad shape, so I went to McDonald's and got a couple of bunless hamburgers, eating them bunless.  I'm an old pro at that. 

I felt better.  I got Ron some food and was about to head off to the dairy case, when he called "Our ride is here".  We'd only been there half an hour. 

Ron had called, without telling me, and asked for a shorter amount of time at Walmart.  Then he forgot to tell me.  I had no idea it was past time to check out. 

Of course, since it's the afternoon on a Saturday, Walmart only had 3 lanes.  Each person in line had a bursting shopping cart.  No way.  I considered just "stranding" my cart but decided to use the self-check. 

I was a cashier for several years.  I know what to do.  I got myself out of there. 

On the way home, Ron acted as if I'd known he changed the pickup.  "No" I told him. 

Then he complained because I hadn't put any salt in the takeout bag, with his fries.  "You told me not to put any salt in the bag, ever." I replied.  "You accidentally bit..." 

That's when he yelled at me to shut up.  Oh-kay. 

I shut up.  He would just rave at me and say even worse things. 

I also had a lovely conversation about my weight, earlier.  I have lost a total of 2 pounds.  Not much... but I'm losing. 

Ron had a lot to say, none of it nice.  Started with "That's all?"  Then went to "You need to lose 100 pounds".  I finally had to tell him to shut up. 

"You don't want to demotivate me before I even start, do you?"  I also tell him he is not "allowed" to complain about my weight as long as I am eating low carb.  I just get sick of it. 

He even tells me "I'm no treat, myself".  So why run me down like that?   It's just hateful. 

I understand he is suffering from depression.  He chooses not to address that.  That's his choice. 

I will not allow him, however, to drag me down with him into his pit of self-hatred and endless bellyaching.  We are blessed in so many ways - but he really is blind to see. 

In spite of all that, I had a good day.  Haters gonna hate, after all. 

Hip Hop Hero

What a day, what a day. 

Well, good news I am down a pound. 

I slept horribly and was awakened by awful screeching at 1:20 this morning.  I raced into the hall to find two tabby girls, intent on their playmate, the sparrow. 

How did a tabby cat get a sparrow at 1 in the morning?  I'm not sure I want to know. 

At any rate, I scooped up the poor, trembling thing and locked the cat door.  The whole time I held the bird, I was terrified it might try to make a jump for it and hurt itself, or worse, jump right into a cat.  The cats were very interested. 

I mananged to get out the front door and set the bird down in the flowerbed.  I got back in without releasing the cats. 

Alright.  It's 1:30 in the morning.  I'd set my alarm for 2, and our ride was due at 3:45.  I might as well get to my day. 

I did my God Time first.  I always worry the shower will wake Ron; even though he says it doesn't.  I took my shower.  I ate a little breakfast, but I was pretty queasy.  I was happy to see I was down a pound. 

Pretty soon our ride came and off to work, with the wheelchair.  I had some money for charity.  This is another one of those "I probably shouldn't talk about it but it's a good idea, so I'll take a chance I might lose a heavenly reward or two". 

I put my spare change into a jar.  When the jar's full, I redeem it for cash.  Half the time (now) it goes to charity, World Missionary Press.  They can get a lot of scripture booklets for the contents of my change jar.  It doesn't "cost" me anything, either. 

The rest of the time, I get myself a treat. 

I think it's a good balance.  So, we had 2 jars of change, because I was lazy - but both are earmarked for charity. 

Ron spent the first hour or two rolling change and then I sold it to the credit union.  It will make a nice little donation.  Now I can start working on filling up the "treat" jar. 

Our delivery was late, it literally came at the very last minute and we were there for almost 8 hours.  I stocked what I could and made an inventory. Ron agreed I can finally get my inventory, which is great. 

At one point he said "You sound anxious" and I said "I am, about my poor, empty, snack machines".  I think he got it then. 

I will be getting the necessary inventory and stocking it, quickly. 

One of my coworkers found a cat and is trying to give it to me.  I have my hands full with my two naughty girls.  It's funny, when we got Torbie she was very sweet and innocent.  I could hardly believe she needed to use her litter box. 

Now she is showing more mischief - taking her "sissy's" designated spot (if you don't have a cat, they like particular areas and will literally fight for them), and getting into trouble with sissy (playing with the bird).  It's cute - well, not the bird. 

99% of the time, things are quiet, but the one percent is remarkable.  It keeps me on my toes.  Torbie is showing more interest in play, too.  She likes to watch me play with Baby Girl, and will swat at the teaser now and then.  I try to exercise them, in addition to allowing them "outside" to bleed off the energy. 

I think it's really a good idea to have two cats at least, they need to be with their own kind.  Who else will sniff their butt when they walk by?  Like there's a lotto ticket in there or something. 

We finally left.  We did not have a good ride home.  First, the driver had a lot of trouble finding us.  I am OK with that - I had a lot of trouble finding the entrance my first time. 

However, when she found out Ron wanted to ride in his wheelchair (it was apparent to us she would not secure it properly, otherwise - and we have a new policy of making the drivers tie down the chair the way they are supposed to - our old chair broke due to abuse - like one driver threw it down the stairs of the van rather than use the lift), she got in the vehicle and turned up some very loud rap/hip-hop. 

Ron, stuck in the back of the minivan, between two very large speakers, kept begging her to turn it down.  She would, for a few seconds, and then turn it up. 

Here's a hint.  If your clients are all 50 years and up, they probably hate hip-hop.  How hard is it to turn it off for 10 minutes?    I had a vision of the driver, strapped into a wheelchair, in the back, listening to bagpipes. 

Something like this: 


Come on, you know you needed that.  So, I'm sitting in the front seat, Ron's getting really pissed in the back, raising his voice, and I'm imagining the driver strapped in the "box" listening to bagpipes.  I started laughing and scared her to death.  She started giving me these alarmed glanced and Ron's got his cell phone out...

Apparently he called customer service while between the two speakers, blasting the latest hip hop hero.  They asked him to turn it down and he said that's the problem.  He filed his complaint and hung up. 

The driver just kept tootin' down the road, apparently oblivious.  I told her, several times, "Ron hates the music, can you please turn it off?  Ron really hates this music.  He's going to have another stroke!"  [shrug] 

If she can't take feedback we'll let her boss tell her.  It's been years since Ron called in a complaint on a driver. 

We got home.  I think I did OK eating today.  I did eat some peanut butter due to nausea and an extreme need to take my medication (especially after the last ride!).   I ate some whole fat greek style yogurt, too, making it a complete protein. 

I took a huge handful of medication, done for the day now, and took a nap.  I slept OK but my last dream before waking up involved the song "Sympathy for the Devil" - some kind of missionary work in a jungle, my feet being eaten by bloodsucking reptiles.  Ugh. 

I was sure happy to get up.  I haven't gotten my goodies yet but I remain hopeful.  When they come in I'll make a video. 

I share yet another mortifying moment

A couple of days ago, I sat down in a folding chair at Walmart.  I want a nice folding chair for my computer area; the wood folding chair wobbles when the my cat jumps on it to groom herself.   I don't want her to fall; and this chair looked perfect. 

Here it is:

I took one out of the bin, unfolded it, and sat down.  Imagine my horror as the chair broke underneath me.  The shock and profound humiliation as I tried to haul my fat self off the floor.  Ron kept asking me "What?  What?"  [facepalm]  I told him the chair broke. He didn't ask why, which may be the saddest line of all. 

I would have been happy to pay for the chair if it had a tag with a weight limit.  They had nothing, just a UPC code.   Last I checked (a week or two ago) I was 240. That shouldn't be a chair breaker, I'd think. 

Things are also more difficult in the shower.  I hate the shower now.  That's all I will say. 

Clothes, even the fat clothes, are getting a little tight.  Ugh. 

Time to low carb again.  I don't want my doctor freaking out when I go in for my checkup.  I want to stop this train and get off. 

The big question, of course, can I lose weight on my cocktail? 
Lithium: demonstrated weight gain.  Dr Atkins advised patients to go off the lithium if at all possible. 
Haldol:  clinically proven weight gain. 
Wellbutrin: linked to weight loss, but controversial. 
Depakote: clinically proven weight gain. 

I don't have the energy I used to have; but God reminded me working out when manic is better than not working out at all.  I can certainly do something for 20-30 minutes most mornings. 

I hope.  I do know the snacking has got to end.   Quick meals will have to get smarter and lower carb. 

I can't go on like this.  They don't make tandem wheelchairs. 

Do me good

Pretty tired and depressed.  I slept in today and had a heck of a time getting into the shower.  It's a good thing I had planned to go to the Dollar Store. 

Ron went to the liquor store by himself, came back with his beer about the time I finished my God Time.  Kind of funny, that. 

Last night I ordered some perfume oils.  They had a nice selection, "Dove soap type".  "Tangerine Spice" and various rose fragrances (which I adore).  I got a little of everything, spending about $20 total.  I even got Ron an "Old Spice Type" 1/6 ounce roll on.  He sounded a little interested when I told him. 

I don't spend a lot on perfume because I can get tired of the same fragrance every day.  Ron is pretty allergic, and has had horrible allergic reactions to various fragrances he could tolerate.  He seems to do better with essential oil based perfumes. 

I got some "Orange Blossom" last year, from another supplier I can't find anymore.  I believe it was mainly petigrain - an essential oil distilled from citrus trees (the green part around the flower, mainly).  It is a little green, and a nice rich floral.  Ron has no problems. 

The other winner from last year was "Patchouli-Lavender".  That's just 2 essential oils.  Again, no problems for Ron.  I'm wearing it now. 

We'll see how the new ones work out.  I like to change my fragrance based on my mood, and God knows my mood is always changing. 

So, we went to the dollar store. I got some nuts, a bucket for mixing my homemade laundry detergent, and a value burger.  I ate the burger and took my pills.

Ron, eagerly awaiting his fried chicken, asked me if I felt up to going.  2 pieces of dark meat for $1, Tuesday special.  There's a fine line, I think, between being depressed and being a downer drama queen. 

I told him "It'll do me good to get out of the house.  I shouldn't sit around."  Which, I thought, was a nice way of saying I'd do it even though I still felt crappy. 

We went.  Ron had a blast.  He has plenty of chicken left in the fridge.  His sugars tested at about 150 2 hours after his meal.  That's doable. 

I don't need to drag Ron down just because I'm depressed. 

Nightmares

This might be triggering for some folk. 

Here's a good snapshot:  I laid down for a nap and fell asleep almost immediately.  I was tired.  I then proceeded to have a nightmare: I was being chased by a "shooter".  Other people and I fled in terror.  I managed to get to a safe room; but was raped as my "price" - safety for me and the others. 

I woke up feeling completely traumatized and violated.  That, you see, is a typical depression nightmare.  I have them pretty much every time I sleep.  I don't usually remember them; just that I didn't sleep well, a general "bad dreams" feeling, exhausted when I get up. 

One of my internet friends told me she wished she could have my manias; she doesn't realize I pay dearly. 

I woke up, exhausted and depressed.  A bad feature of the Depakote: I have a more typical depression where it's very hard to get started in the morning.  I realized I didn't have the energy for a shower, but my legs were scary.  I sat on the edge of the tub and shaved them, sponge bath, brushed my hair, and off to work. 

Work wasn't bad; I need more inventory.  That's good, but Ron's trying to save money for the Dr Pepper order (coming Friday).  So we have to sort that out. 

I never saw Shrek; but I did see "Mystery Men".  I loved the song "All Star" so I'm playing that on repeat right now.  I just feel so black and hopeless after that nightmare. 

I have medication for just about every symptom but nightmares. 

The "Good" Christian

I once heard a story of a very wealthy man who lived like a pauper, hunted his own meat, and devoted all his money to Christian charities.  One time I helped do the taxes for a man who made over $100,000, and wanted to deduct a $5 expense for Girl Scout cookies. 

I have to think there's a happy medium; a place where I buy new socks and underwear, as needed (they were).  A place where I have my charity debits and Bible Handout expenses living together with the purchase of inexpensive perfumes and a name brand air freshener. 

I did need the garments.  Do I need some cheap roll on perfume?  No.  But I'll like it and it will make me happy for a very long time.  I got some about this time last year; some I liked, some I didn't.  It all cost about $20 and I found two very nice perfumes. 

Tomorrow I plan to make my deposit and then buy a few vials.  Some rose scents, and a tangerine spice. 

They sound lovely. 

Photo shoot

I've been talking about how I "redid" the house.  I thought it might be fun to share some pictures, along with some cat photos. 

Torbie in a Priority Mail Flat Rate box.

Baby girl in Ron's wheelchair. 

 Baby Girl in "my" chair.  I used a $4 flat sheet from Walmart.  I already had the pillow, pillowcase, and sheepskin. 

 Front Room loveseat, right next to my chair.  $4 flat sheet - that's it. 

 I spent $13 on the computer room, flat sheet, pillow cases, and matching towel.  When you have messy people and vomiting cats, a towel or sheet is a very good idea. 

I hope you enjoyed your visit to my home.  :) 

Bad Times

I don't talk much about my teen years; they were pretty awful. 

Sometimes something will take me by surprise and I'm triggered again.  Back in the bad place, in my head. 

It's a very dark and hopeless place; but I don't have to relive it or make you go through it to share.  I'm just back in a place with no hope, no justice, no joy.   Surrounded by darkness and evil. 

I "fall in" sometimes - not so much these days, as it has been over 20 years, but I still do on occasion.  I did today.   

The trick is climbing out again, and praying for those who did hurt me.  Hate gives the devil a foothold, and I don't want to be a hater. 

The last thing I would ever want, is to become what tortured me.  So I work very hard on that, too. 

I won't.

Being depressed, I slept so late I had a headache.  I got up around 9.  I was spitting out my toothpaste when the doorbell rang twice. 

If you want to get my attention, ring it once.  I heard you.  Twice just tells me you're a [censored] insenstive [censored].  Unless, of course, my house is burning down or they just issued a tornado warning for the subdivision. 

I opened the door to find two very elderly ladies.  "I already know Jesus, thank you" I told them and shut the door.  I get very annoyed at the JW's. 

Not at their missionary zeal, which often spurs me to evangelism - I can be at least that bold, myself, after all.  It's the bigotry.  I never saw a JW when I lived in Crack-town.  Never. 

I never saw a Mormon, either.  No, after we move to the nice middle-class suburb, they show up like roaches. 

The Mormons stopped coming by.  I think Ron "broke" one of them with his talk.  If everything is made of atoms, is anything real?  We're all just lumps of electricity... etc. 

Today's JW's were very rude, too.  "Oh, we woke you up!" in a judgemental tone like I should have been up hours ago.  Look, [censored] you don't have my problems.  You don't know when I work and the problems I manage. 

I have decided to put a note in my window, basically saying "Go away, unless you are selling candy".  I think I will make that the note.  It's very clear, isn't it? 

I will also ask them "Why didn't I ever see you in the bad area?  How often do you go to Acres Homes?  What kind of ministry are you doing there?"  Ha!  Nothing, that's what. 

I don't care what color you are; Jesus accepted everyone and made a point of hanging out with the lepers, Samaritans, and tax collectors - all considered the scum of society.  He should be our role model.  We should be taking the gospel to them first, and then the "nicer" people (at least the way I read my Bible - that could just be what I am called to do personally, though). 

I didn't do much but laundry, feeling lazy and a little hivey (it's the gluten thing again).  I took a nice nap, it rained again... I need to remake the bed if I take a shower, and sleep in it if I don't.  I can make the bed tomorrow.  I hate to sleep "dirty" in a clean bed. 

I washed my new sheets but haven't dried them yet.  The computer room and front room will look really nice when I'm done.  I want it to be homey and comfortable. 

I am considering "pimping" my blog, allowing some ads.  If I do that, I can make money and buy more Bibles.  But then I think God will provide the Bibles. 

So, I guess I won't. 

The depression is fine, but I'm not.

Somedays, I really feel I'm lacking creativity.  Today is one of them. 

Battling depression; a hell of a fight.  Bad depression. 

However, I had plans.  I got up, took my shower, did my God Time.  Ron's legs are about healed, thank God.  He has horrific scars. 

I did get him some Vitamin E, but I don't know if he's taking it.  I have found it works better to give him vitamins, encourage him to put a braille label, and then leave it up to him. 

We agree we want to get him some Milk Thistle.  I worry a little about having it shipped, in the heat - won't that ruin the vitamins?  Hm. 

Ron has been going on A LOT about current events, race wars, ignorance in today's society - and I just can't take it.  He's going on right now. 

On top of the depression.  I told Ron I just wasn't up for it tonight.  He suggested I get my whistle. I did, and blew it. 

I'm going to start wearing it now.  Ron doesn't realize how much his existential stuff drags me down and oppresses me.  He gets so angry when things are just going the way they will. 

"Race wars" - well, what did you think?  A lot of people are unhappy with the president.  If blacks and whites are at odds, then they won't impeach him, will they?  Something like that, you'd have to have unity - so the best way to protect oneself is to create division. 

I can say all this once and be done with it.  Ron has to share his version repeatedly, to me, with slight variations which of course make it different entirely.  And of course this is bothering me FAR more than usual because I'm battling a depression. 

We went to breakfast.  It appeared we would have some bad rides, one came very early, the other, very late.  I told Ron "I'd rather stay home than listen to you complain for an hour.  He said he wouldn't, but did. 

I told Ron when we go to the taqueria, we can take the wheelchair and use the bus each way.  Yes, I will have to push him half a mile each way, across a couple of busy streets, etc.  But it's better than the endless complaining - which I myself am guilty of at this moment. 

It was a good breakfast.  I had an iced tea with a lime in it. 

Then we went to Walmart.  I have been thinking about changing up the house a little.  I have a nice leafy-print sheet over my chair.  I spill things and I have puking, shedding cats.  I also have Ron. 

Covers are a requirement.  I can't afford those expensive covers and they would look odd because it is a contemporary styled, wood frame lineup (chair and loveseat).  I decided to get another leafy print twin sheet for the loveseat.  I did that. 

I have the computer room styled in red and cream, with a little wedgewood.  I was very drawn to the orange.  I got a flat orange sheet for the computer room, with black pillowcases.  It will look good with the other colors and brighten things up.  This is the darkest room in the house, bar the laundry room. 

I had a hives attack.  Very unpleasant.  I decided to avoid gluten for a while; and got some whole fat yogurt, stuff like that, to eat. 

Walmart had the good carts back, with the seat on the back.  I put Ron in the cart and we had a good time.  I pushed him around all over. 

Of course, now Ron is asking me if I can push him over to the beer and he put it in the cart.  Agh. 

Then I came home and took a nap.  Ron made a cutting remark about my need for sleep and then started yelling at God. 

I don't really follow the reasoning, but it goes like this "We could be perfectly happy except for God".  That God has inflicted our problems on us to make us, and each other, miserable... something along those lines.  So he yelled at me, and God. 

I just got my nap. 

What a day

I woke up exhausted and depressed.  Ron was spouting an endless stream of "The usual" "Why won't God hurry up?  I hate current events.  Why won't God hurry up?"  I barely got my shower, and caregiving, before I left the house.  Sorry, God, we'll have to meet later.  [We did]

The cat threw up all over the back of my couch, right after I had removed the protective bedsheet (I always seem to have at least one puking cat in my household).  Agh. 

I didn't get my nap, more exhausted... but... I had a really good day. 

We went to the warehouse, got our supplies.  We went to work and stocked them.  I filled out the sales tax form, sealed the envelope, and realized, to my horror, I'd forgotten to include the check.  This time last year I included the check, but left the amount line blank.  We got a call from a special office in Austin (state capitol) about that.  Ron had to tell them I'm special. 

I managed to get the envelope open before the glue dried (it has a special processing barcode for the post office, so I had to use that envelope), but had to tape it shut when I did insert the check.  Now it looks like the poster for "Target mail" - dangerous mail items to avoid. 

We got that done and went to the bank.  We had to deposit the money for sales tax.  Ron confirmed I had used a business check and I made the business deposit.  Metrolift left us at the bank for over an hour. 

I was so glad I had told Dayna, the lady buying my craft supplies, to come an hour AFTER I was supposed to get home.  We got home and I did some cleaning, sweeping, mopping, and removing the "danderized" bedsheet from the couch. 

Dayna had mentioned she had a cat allergy, and I figured it was best to remove the thing cats have been lying on, for years.  She seemed to be OK, so I made the right choice - at least until Baby Girl threw up (thank God, after Dayna left). 

Dayna was thrilled with the stash and handed over my asking price.  She was even happier to hear everything with the storage boxes.  I'm trying to simplify.   I love my "new" living room. 

She rode off, happy.  I'm happy.  I have cash now and got my craft stuff to a loving, good, home.  I wanted it to be used, and it will be.  I'm sure of that.  The money's just a bonus.  Ron is thrilled I got rid of so much stuff, so easily (I had been very careful storing it in airtight plastic crates). 

I will definitely use Craigslist again.  That was probably the easiest money I ever made. 

One time, I made $60 in 3 days, but I had to eat 18 Pop-tarts.  UGH. 

Bigger Fish

I know some of you are worried because I put personal information out on the web.  I am not worried about that. 

Why?  Because it is alarmingly easy to obtain all this information. 

One woman I know got a lot of personal data from an email.  She was able to find the person's home address, work, and phone number. 

One person I know had friended me on Facebook.  She put my whole name next to an internet moniker - "Houston Heather" and it was out on the web for almost a year before I found it by searching for myself.  I was horrified, but it had already been out there a year. 

If you search on "Houston Heather" you will quickly find Heather Boutte.  If you search on Heather Boutte in Houston - guess what, I'm the only one.  You can find my address pretty quickly anyway.  Why does it matter if I make it slightly easier, for a sponsor to ship Bibles to me? 

If you search Heather Boutte and my address you can find out all kinds of information on my home.  Huh.  I just found out it is valued at more than my mortgage, and it used to be a HUD house (not surprising, it is very modest). 

If I give out my address to random internet people who say they want to send me Bibles - some have, some haven't; if I gave it out to a lady on Craigslist who wants to buy my spinning stuff... why not just slap it out there on the blog? 

Dude, I hand out Bibles, in the ghetto.  I work in one of the worst zip codes in Houston; and wait outside on my rides in the middle of all that.  I used to live in the worst zip code in Houston for 3 years.  I used to live in a terrible neighborhood in California, complete with crack whore and dirty needles all around the bus stop, for 7 years. 

I've got bigger fish to fry. 

Doomed to repeat it

Today, I wished I had "I hate myself for loving you" on my MP3 player. 

Sigh. 

People worry about "some maniac" coming to my house and chopping me into little bits.  I don't worry about that at all. 

I worry about Ron having another blackout. 

You can imagine my alarm when he started up the old "Why won't you buy me beer, it's like water!"  I told him it was my policy not to buy him any beer. 

He wanted to know why.  He assumes it is because my mother was an alcoholic.  He is wrong. 

I made the policy, one night, in tears, sitting on the edge of my bed after the most hateful verbal abuse you can imagine.  He had a blackout drinking beer, and I had helped him buy it.  I kept kicking myself, "Heather, you stupid bitch, this is all your fault.  You buy him alcohol, he verbally abuses you.  What's it going to take for you to stop?"  I resolved, then and there, I would never buy him another drop of alcohol. 

You can imagine the reaction - apopalyptic.  I recieved a lot of threats, shouting, verbal abuse, personal attacks, blackmail, and bribes.  I did cave a few times, with predictable blackout results. 

I have "stood firm" for years now, but every now and then he brings it up, generally when we go to Walmart.  Simply put, he wants me to buy the beer because it is "easy". 

He said the employees ask him why I don't get it for him.  "Tell them I think you have a problem" I replied.  He didn't like that much. 

In fact, when confronted by a Walmart employee who asked me point blank - I said "I'm sure I have a very good reason."  She understood. 

It's inconvenient, he said, for to call and ask for an employee to help him buy the alcohol and take him through the checkout line.  It's embarassing. 

No. 
No.
No. 

When he got to the "verbal abuse, blackmail, and threats" portion of the program I stopped reacting.  He wanted me to react - he wanted a crack so he could get in there and wheedle me into buying him more alcohol. 

I did respond when he had calmed down and asked me why.  I told him "I bought you beer once, you had a blackout and acted terribly.  I promised myself that night I wouldn't buy you any alcohol." 

"That's in the past" he said "Why are you living in the past?" 

"Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it" - I didn't say it but I will next time.  Absolutely true.  I have 21 years of experience. 

I went outside and called my aunt.  She confirmed what I needed to hear: It is absolutely fine to refuse to buy alcohol for an alcoholic.  I don't need to react to threats and name calling.  God wants me to act appropriately while remaining firm. 

I had 3 large boxes I needed to ship from the Post Office.  I had them strapped onto my handcart for easy transport. 

"What if I cancel our trip, right now?"  I thanked God, privately, that I live on a bus line.  It was pouring rain. 

"I'd take my cart and go on the bus" - this is why I will ALWAYS live on the bus line, even if I married a man who could drive. 

"You won't help me, why should I help you?"  I told him to do whatever he was going to do.  I had my bus pass. 

"Well, I'm not that kind of [creep].  I'm going to help you, even though you won't help me."  That's called loan sharking - create a debt and them make them "pay up". 

Overall, I just found it very sad, tiresome, and frustrating.  It was a stark reminder that Ron will always be an alcoholic.  He will always been enslaved to liquor and he can only fight it with abstinence. 

The worst part, he doesn't think he has a problem.  He doesn't think he is a diabetic; he is. He doesn't think he is an alcoholic; he is.  He is in big danger from both until he admits he has a problem. 

I am pretty certain, if Ron thought he could drink without getting more, ulcerated, diabetic blisters, he would do so. 

In fact, Ron, outraged, asked me point blank "When's the last time I had a blackout?"  "The night the neighbor had his party."  I replied  "You fell and hit your head, the doctor kept asking at your appointment."  (the head wound was pretty spectacular - got infected, and took weeks to heal)

"Oh" he fumed. 

It's just sad.  I'm not even angry or even betrayed.  I'm just sad.  Ron is a slave.  He doesn't know it.  He loves his "master" more, sometimes, than me. 

I don't want to be second. 

Where do you get those Bibles?

Sometimes I get the question, how do I get the Bibles. Sometimes people want to help. 

I have a couple of suggestions.  Foolproof, even for the cynics out there: I put up a link, you buy the Bibles and ship them to me.  Guys seem to like this best (you'd think the women would want to shop, but nope, it's the men).  I end up with a nice box on the porch, which gets handed out shortly. 

Here's the link, you want "The Invitation" - These are the backbone of my Handouts.  40-50 cents each.  A little goes a long way (I love that) and they're pretty and the recipients love them. http://www.lifeway.com/Keyword/hboi?Sz=20&type=products&sort=pop

Option 2: you call my local Lifeway and tell them you want to get me some "Invitations", they will do it over the phone and call me to come pick them up.  I know this works, a lady did this about a year and a half ago.  I got a phone call and a nice sack of 40, which didn't last long. 

They are open 9-9 every day but Sunday, of course.  Phone: 281-894-9561  Tell them they are for "Heather the crazy Bible lady" or something along those lines.  They will know. :) 

Daring option: send me a check.  I will buy Bibles and hand them out.  That takes a lot more faith, and frankly, I wouldn't send a check to a stranger, but some people do and I am always supercareful with God's money.  God will whip my butt and show every misaccounted penny to everyone in the universe if I screw up, so I won't.  If you do send me money, let me know how you want it spent.  "Regular, Spanish, or Kids". 

Let me clarify.  If I have a sum of money it will probably go to Invitation New Testaments.  I can carry a lot to the handout on public transit, they are very affordable, the recipients like them, and almost everyone can read them. 

I can get whole Bibles from my church, although from what I heard I have pretty much annihilated their stash.  I need to talk to the pastor about that. 

Spanish: I have a lot of Spanish recipients.  Recently a lady sent me some money.  I spent $50 of it on a case of 50 Spanish NT, and handed out virtually the entire case in one handout.  Huge eagerness for God.  Lots of fun Spanish things here: Spanish goodies   I have handed out a lot of those little Gospels of John (the 30 cents each one) and the New Testaments (probably a couple hundred at least).   

You know, what the hell.  My name is up there: why not the address. 
Heather Boutte
11504 Bremen Drive
Houston, Texas, 77066

If you are led to buy something, just ship it there and I will find it in my porch shortly, then you can read all about the ensuring handout. 

Last but not least, kiddie Bibles.  I love the kiddie Bibles, but they cost 4x the cost of an Invitation and I have to pay shipping. Parents adore these.  You would not believe how many scary looking people are almost in tears at the thought of a children's Bible for their kids.  They love it.  Kids love them.  But, like I said, they ain't "cheap" in my book.  Definitely on the wish list, though. 

Kiddie Bibles

I deserve a medal.

My next door neighbor, to the north of us, is a genuinely good guy.  He does have the odd, very loud, all night party.  His five kids make a lot of racket when I'd love a nap, but overall I would "keep" them, if it were up to me.  Importantly: they like the cats.  His wife told me Baby Girl was "cute" sitting on her car, when I yelled at the cat to get down. 

He is also a Christian.  I'm not sure for how long, but after my home was robbed in December he mentioned he was saved, to some guys from the church.  That's good to know.  I have been praying for him and his family (along with all the other neighbors) every day for years. 

I had to get up at 4 AM for work.  I take my shower, do my God time, get dressed, eat, and help Ron.  Not always in that order.  I look forward to the day when I can stop cleaning the diabetic ulcers on his legs.  I am very tired of that - it's been months. 

[sigh]  So, last night, I went to bed "late", about 9 PM.  As I lay in bed I could hear my neighbor talking quietly, with another man, on the back porch.  It sounded like some kind of counseling session.  I think "homeboy" had some serious issues. 

They were talking in Spanish, so I couldn't understand it, and frankly I'd prefer that.  I just found it a little tiresome, literally, because it kept me awake until... well, I looked at the clock and it was almost 10. 

I figured it couldn't go to late because my neighbor has a construction business, and gets up early.  Sure enough, he did.  He left for work before our ride arrived.  That poor man must be exhausted. 

I was, too, but I managed to haul myself out of bed, shower, and do my God time.  I had to drink 2 quarts of iced tea before I was alert enough to check Ron's blood sugar, but I got him settled. 

We went to work.  Now, as you can imagine, Ron has a lot of opinions today. 

He also has Frontal lobe damage (actually he had bruises "All over both hemispheres" according to one expert, he has scar tissue on his frontal lobes and left temporal lobe - I can actually see it on his MRI films).  What does that mean? 

Well, he's very impulsive, and says whatever he thinks.  He can't really think "I shouldn't present this controversial opinion to my black friend, here."  He just comes out with it in a rather "offensive" manner. 

Since I have been badly hurt by sweet-talking backstabbers, I prefer an honest insult, but I'm the exception.  Most people can only handle small doses of Ron in "soapbox" mode. 

I felt like I was following Ron around with a cork all day, and mentally stuffing it in his mouth.  I didn't want him to offend anyone or make things worse.  I can see both viewpoints, someone being followed, and someone being attacked, and how they reacted the way they did. 

God knows the guy who survived will be looking over his shoulder the rest of his life, worrying about his family.  That's an awful punishment. 

I finally got him home without anyone getting offended.  I deserve a medal for caregiver of the year. 

I took a short nap (needed it) surprisingly refreshed for a 30 minute nap.  We went to Walmart.  I got some charity items for my project, finishing it.  I just wish I had another box.  Hopefully I can get one tomorrow. 

On the way to Walmart, I saw one of those Catholic missionaries, the guys who raise money for overseas missions, with his bucket on the median.  A couple of the local homeless alcoholics were confronting him, one woman yelling in his face and shoving him.  Her two male friends stood nearby, ready to kick butt if needed.  It made me so appreciative of the care and protection I get on the Bible Handouts.  That could so easily be me, getting shoved and verbally abused by a filthy, scary, person, furious I was in "her" territory. 

The missionary was holding his own, though, very calm and steadfast. 

The charity thing took up most of my time, but I did get some ice cream, iced tea mix, and a lunch for Ron.  3 hours after eating the fried chicken meal plate, his sugar tested at 130. 

"You're diabetic when you eat like you used to."  I told him "But not when you eat like you are now."  He agreed. 

Do I stay or do I go?

I never see myself as a teacher but I thought I would share my thoughts on the subject. 

What does a Christian woman do when he husband tells her not to do evangelism?  I've had that problem for over 3 years now. 

In fact, on my first Bible Handout I just went out while he was sleeping, did it, and then came back and told him.  He made it pretty clear he'd "forbid" it if he could. 

Years ago, Christian culture had the whole "submissive wife" culture.  The woman was to defer to her husband in all things, never criticize him, and obey him at all times.  They'd be horrified to find out I have consistently "disobeyed" and "flaunted" my husband with my continued distribution. 

Why do I think I'm doing the right thing?  Shouldn't I defer to my husband? 

Well, the answer is complex.  My husband is the spritual head of household, but we are at very different levels of spiritual development.  He's progressing but he himself says I have a stronger faith. 

That isn't why I do it.  After all Ephesians chapter 5 has some pretty pointed advice: 

"²² Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. ²³ For the husband is head of the wife, as also Christ is head of the church; and He is the Savior of the body. ²⁴ Therefore, just as the church is subject to Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in everything." [NKJV]

I can't think of a polite way to phrase it: Ron has a drinking problem.  It was very serious for a very long time, especially during my periods of evangelism.  [God has done amazing things, lately.]  I believe the devil attacks me, and often he did so through my husband.  Ron would have blackouts, keeping me up all night, and verbally abusing me. 

I prayed about it, desperately wanting to leave (who wouldn't?).  God made it clear He wanted me to stay, so I did.  You can read all this in the archives.  My unreached readers acted as if I'd gone off my meds, completely infuriated.  Some of the responses to my posts were worse than the blackouts! 

During this period, God made it clear I was to treat Ron as "The Unbelieving Husband" in 1 Corinthians Chapter 7: "¹⁰ Now to the married I command, yet not I but the Lord: A wife is not to depart from her husband. ¹¹ But even if she does depart, let her remain unmarried or be reconciled to her husband. And a husband is not to divorce his wife....³⁹ A wife is bound by law as long as her husband lives; but if her husband dies, she is at liberty to be married to whom she wishes, only in the Lord."  Ron wanted me to remain his wife.  He told me he loved me, and I could tell he meant it. 

So, if he didn't want me to do the handout what do I do?   My pastor put it best: "Obey your leaders, unless they are telling you to contradict the Bible.  Then you have to do what the Bible says." 

Well, the Bible is really clear in speaking: 
Matthew Chapter 28:
"¹⁸ And Jesus came and spoke to them, saying, “All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. ¹⁹ Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, ²⁰ teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Amen." 

Jesus says "Go", so I do.  Ron will be fine. 

I'll always live on a bus line

I've never been able to drive.  Brain damage, "crazy" and some potent medication ensure it.  As a small child, I rode the school bus.  As I got older, I walked or rode my bike to school. 

My husband introduced me to the bus.  "You just get on, pay your fare, and sit down.  When you get to the stop you ring the bell and get off.  Say thank you to the driver." 

My special education program had planned to teach me how to ride the bus.  Ugh.  I have problems, but not that bad.  They were furious I figured it out on my own. 

I loved living on the bus line.  I rode to the mall, rode to work, and rode to dates with my future husband.  I was independent. 

When I eloped, we lived on a bus line.  He was blind and couldn't drive.  We'd walk a half mile or so to the bus stop, climb aboard, and go anywhere.  We went to San Francisco.  We went to Oakland.  I went "home" to visit a few times.  All on the bus. 

Any travel involved the bus, unless we walked. 

When we searched for a house, it had to be on a bus line.  That was a given.  I needed my independence in transporation, even though I wasn't riding the bus much at the time. 

So, we got a nice little house in a nice little subdivision, not far from the bus line.  It comes in handy. 

Today my husband refused to go on the Bible Handout.  "We each did what we wanted" he said when I got home.  Well said. 

I walked to the bus stop and took the bus to the Handout, did the Handout, took the bus to the grocery store, saved us a paratransit trip picking up supplies, and saved myself a good $10 on dinner by getting a takeout pizza instead of delivery. 

As I walked down our street, juggling my large tote bag and the pizza, I thought to myself, even if something happened to Ron and I married a man who could drive:

I'll always live on a bus line. 

I need my transportation independence. 

Another Ghetto Handout and a $5 Pizza

I stood next to the older black man, sharing my testimony as he held a new Bible, both of us listening to someone shouting into a megaphone.  It didn't sound loving. 

"Don't go to the ghetto" they said "They'll be riots.  You'll get raped, beaten, and killed."  Well, they were wrong.  I think the man was actually a little embarassed by the shouter. 

I wasn't worried, though.  He was in a storefront, off the streets, with only a few cars parked out front.  A few, nice cars.  Ironic, considering the neighborhood.  When distributing, I always have at least one recipient with a duct-taped car window because the automatic motor died and the glass is sagging. 

That was as bad as it got.  We got up, had a late pickup for church, but got there just in time. 

A lady at church may be able to provide a ride for us, which would be great.  I never turn down rides. 

Speaking of, since Ron opted out - convinced it would be dangerous - I had to take the bus.  That limited my options. 

I have 3 cases of whole Bibles, 20 each.  They weigh about 20 pounds a case.  I can't carry that. 

I opted, instead, for 30 New Testaments in a tote bag with a smaller (and more easily put away) Free Bibles sign.  It worked fine.  I brought my orange vest of course. 

I had a long wait for the first but but good rides for the rest of the day.  I got off and went right to work. 

I expected a lot of hostility, maybe some younger men roaming around, but found nothing like that.  Oddly, I didn't see a single police car.  Normally I see a couple, at least. 

I got out there and did my thing, discovering it was pretty much like any Bible Handout.  Most ignored me; some glared at me, some gaped, some wanted a Bible. 

Most of the recpients seemed to find me "cute" for coming to their neighborhood in those times.  One woman let off a man, yelling "Get me a Bible" as he crossed the street.  He asked me what she said, and I repeated it, giving him 2, "One for you too". 

I had a lot of "singles" and twosies.  It seemed to move pretty slow but I was moving about one a minute.  I had a family or two, and one set of grandparents who wanted one each and a few for the grandkids.  Most of the young men with windows down accepted a Bible, but one waved me off with alarm.  It reminded me of Hebrews "The Word of God is living and active, sharper than a two-edged sword". 

A guy walked by, dressed for work, did a double take and stood in the street, asking for a Bible.  I gave him one.  He went over to the bus stop.  I saw a nice car pull up, an older white guy driving.  He didn't even see the sign, riveted to his passenger.  The car next to them, by the sidewalk, wanted a Bible so I got them. 

"Now, be careful, honey" the man warned me, his dark skin shining in the sun.  "Don't you get hit, now."  I scampered up on the curb as the cars roared past. 

"Why are you doing this?" the man asked, still waiting on the bus.  I shared my testimony, how after Ron's accident I had the comfort of knowing God, but the other families in the ICU waiting room didn't.   He was very interested. 

"It's funny" I told him "My black husband was afraid to come today." We could hear the shouting on the megaphone as people walked by, disinterested. 

The light changed and I went back.  I had a carload of young women, just delighted at the novelty of me, handing out Bibles.  Everyone got a Bible. 

Then I had a minivan.  "How many you got?" I asked.  "Five" she replied.  "Including you?"  Yes.  I handed them over as the light changed and off she/they went. 

I was almost done.  I gave my last Bible to a woman with a shaved head and a faceful of piercings.  She was a little startled but took it. 

Time to go. 

I got a snack (I love a salty snack after a Bible Handout) and a cold soda.  I went over to the bus stop and barely had time to eat a few chips.  As I got on, the driver asked "Where's your hat?" 

Huh? 

"Your Free Bibles Hat.  How are people going to know you've got Bibles if you won't wear your hat?"  Good point.  We chatted a little and she told me she wasn't happy with Ron for staying home. 

Ah, well, that's between him and God.  I was fine. 

After that, I ran an errand and bought a Little Cesar's Pizza before I came home.  Boy, that was good. 

Don't mess with Texas

No bites on the craft stuff yet.  I remain hopeful.  I may get all my craft stuff together, lace yarn, acrylic yarn, wool worsted yarn, etc. and put it in one huge bundle for $50.  We'll see. 

I do like the idea of a foot massage.  I got my nails done for my wedding, actually, I was taken to have my nails done (I picked a lavender polish), but never before or since.  It was nice but not my thing. 

I work on my feet; so it might be nice.  I might get a foot massage and hate it but I'd like to check it out. 

So, craft stuff moving out. 

Got up this morning, did my God Time.  I didn't have the energy for a shower and I looked fine.  A little work with a washcloth and I was good to go. 

We went to the pet store and got the girls their Blue Wilderness Chicken cat food.  Five pounds, which seems to last them about a month.  Ron also got 5 bags of cat treats.  I think he is too lavish but the girls love it. 

Baby Girl continues to sleep near my headboard.  We had a good time playing today too.  I have a couple of cat teasers.  The stringy one (a clump of strings hanging down) is her favorite, I swing it in an arc coaxing her to "Jump, jump.... GOOD GIRL!"  She'll take a flying leap with a twist, reminding me of an Olympic diver, and snatch it in mid-air, five feet off the ground. 

Later on I had to save her, outside.  The mockingbirds were beating her up again.  Sigh.  How many humans wish they had a parent like a mockingbird?  They are fearless, dive bombing and pecking a cat 10 times their size. 

We came home and I got my nap.  Yay.  The neighbors are home - they were on vacation.  Things are quiet in the subdivision, thank God. 

Last night I slept horribly but I got up feeling rested. 

I did a lot of serious prayer and decided to do a Bible Handout on Monday, in the ghetto.  We'll be fine.  I just need to do up the Bibles. 

I actually have some whole Bibles, which will be a huge hit.  They really prefer a whole Bible, NKJV.  I've got 5 dozen. 

That will completely wipe me out, of course, but not worried.  When God wants me to do another handout He'll send more.  Plus, I have some on order from Lifeway, for pickup after I get paid. 

I've also been working on my depression project.  Dale Carnagie wrote that helping others is one of the best ways to combat depression, and I agree.  God has blessed me.  I want to share that, and Him. 

So, I ordered an Action Pack from Voice of the Martyrs.  They sent me a large ziplock type item and a list.  I'm filling it up.  Soap.  A nice fleece blanket.  A pretty flat sheet.  Socks.  Stuff like that.  I'm having fun with it. 

So, after my nap I was happy to go to the Dollar Store with Ron.  He loves his "Crack Nuts" the Lance Hot & Spicy peanut.  They don't affect his blood sugar and he loves to eat them.  They have healthy fats and protein.  I also got a few things for the Action Pack (childrens' gloves and knit hats). 

When I came home, I was annoyed and disappointed to find that John had posted yet more hateful crap - basically hatred of conservatives and Bible-believing Christians.

John and I go way back, almost 30 years.  He was a childhood friend I met when I was 10.  We were both different, both had FAS (although undiagnosed at the time), both creative and imaginative book-lovers.  Conventionally, he was very good looking but his personality put a lot of people off.  He was very dramatic and loved acting, but in real life was a bit *too* theatrical.  He missed a lot of social cues and enjoyed being "different".  He was very sensitive, moral (at least then), and a good listener.  We talked a lot on the phone, but he had the bad habit of ignoring me if the television was playing.  When I was 12 he decided he "loved" me and wanted me to be his girlfriend. 

I went along with it (we didn't get much past a little kissing).  We went on dates, held hands, and talked.  He asked me to marry him when I was about 14.  I said yes.  He even gave me a little ring he bought at the drugstore, which was stolen from my room.  We went to different high schools, didn't understand the transit system, and too young to drive.  John, like me, never drove.  We didn't have a lot of contact. 

I broke up with him a few times and got back together.  Somewhere in the mix, I tried to share Jesus with him.  I wanted John to go to heaven.  John didn't want to submit to any authority, including God. 

So, we went our separate ways.  I met Ron and immediately knew he was the one.  We ran off together. 

A few years later, I got curious about John and called his house.  His dad answered, alarmed, but I told him "I'm in a relationship, I just want to have coffee and catch up".  Dad passed along my contact info and sure enough John called. 

I made it clear: taken, but we did resume our friendship.  I was deeply saddened to hear John had gotten sucked into some pagan mysticism.  Other than that, he was pretty much the same guy. 

We'd drop out of touch, get back in touch, and so on.  John continued to become a man I didn't know.  He married a bisexual woman.  He got deeper into the pagan thing. 

He found me on facebook a few years ago.  At first, it was pretty much the same old John.  He said he "really admired" my faith and I hoped he might turn his life over to Jesus. 

However, lately, he has just been posting very hostile and offensive stuff about Christians, "pro-lifers" (I don't like abortion but I won't post hate), etc.  "Those dumb conservatives". 

Last night he posted something about taxing conservative pastors and I wrote a sad reply, saying that many conservative "Bible thumpers" spent a lot of time in prayer for the unreached, going to bed everything worrying about their souls - clearly directed at him.  (I will continue to pray for him)  He never replied. 

Today, it was the same old hate, this time directed at Texas. 

THAT led to the blocking. 

Computer acting up

Friday

I put tons of craft stuff on Craigslist tonight. 

Now, normally that might be cause for alarm.  Heather is depressed.  She is selling her things.  Oh no! 

Nope, nothing like that.  I just realized I haven't used my spinning stuff in years, and I most likely will not, especially with an active kitten in my household. 

On a side note, I just spent a good 5 minutes playing "jump" - her favorite game.  I swing the teaser high in the air and she jumps, catches it, and chews on it for a few seconds.  Then we repeat.  I praise her every time she catches it.  She has also spent hours sleeping near my head lately.  I have some boxes stacked at my headboard. 

I decided, anyway, to sell or barter the stuff.  I would much rather get a used treadmill (I spent over $300 on this stuff) or some homemade soap, maybe a handmade wrap or something... something I will use and enjoy, than just have stuff piled up and accumulating. 

I had decided to do this before Ron got a hoarder book from the state library.  I am disorganized and messy, but I am not a hoarder.  He's starting to realize that. 

First, we went to the store, went to work.  We got it all done, the machines look good.  We came home.  I took my nap, my beloved "Varmit" (Baby Girl) sleeping near my head. 

I got up, categorized my stuff (took a while) and took some photos, then signed up for the website and listed it.  I told Ron when he woke up. 

At first, he wasn't very nice about it.  I told him "If you give me a hard time and deride me every time I work to eliminate clutter and make our home nicer, how often do you think I'll do it?"  I also think the Holy Spirit was working on him. 

No, I don't have a perfect house like your mother.  I am messy.  But rather than make unkind comments, support me. 

He apologized pretty quickly and I could tell he really did feel bad about it.  I think he feels frustrated, and I get that. 

So, he congratulated me (eventually) and told me he was interested in the sell or barter aspect.  If I sell it, I will spend half of it on Bibles, the rest on something for me.  Maybe a nice day out.  Maybe a foot massage. 

I am not interested in manicures or pedicures.  I have a very practical style type.  I can wear a t-shirt every day of the year.  But a foot massage might be a nice treat. 

We'll see. 

I also organized the front room and got that set up.  I moved all the craft stuff over by the front door so it's easy to move.  If and when I sell it, I don't want to be running around all over. 

Now, always hopeful, I need to figure out where I might put a new-to-us treadmill.  Ron could never use it (maybe at the VERY slowest setting), but it would be a good way for me to work out without getting attacked. 

It's interesting.  I have no qualms about going to do outreach in the ghetto.  I'm trying to figure out if God wants a Handout on Monday.  I never worry about our safety. 

However, running close to home - that's a concern. 

Funny. 

She does

I misunderstood our pickup time and had to take Ron to the doctor without my shower.  I didn't look awful but I felt icky. 

My foot was killing me as I walked.  We got Ron in there and I had to fill out a really long and intrusive form I am pretty sure is government related.  I put Ron down as "More than one race" (race questions always seem to indicate a government bent). 

He got into see the doctor and some questions came up: "Who helps you walk?" She does.  "How do you get around in the wheelchair?"  She pushes me.  It continued. 

The doctor finally asked "Who is she?"  I held up my hand.  "His wife".  Oh, OK.  He gave Ron a good lecture about continuing healthy eating habits and examined his legs.  He seemed pretty pleased. 

He mentioned if the blisters continue, he may need to put Ron on a long term antibiotic therapy.  Yike.  Other than that he was pretty happy with the blood tests, and said Ron's AIC level was excellent. 

We went off to the Taqueria, but our ride was late and had a lot of stops before our destination.  We just had time to get it to go.  It was still very good at home. 

Ron was thrilled that the fajita special only got his sugars up to about 120, a few hours after eating.  We only get it once or twice a month, but it's a good cheat meal. 

I took my meds and off to my nap.  I am still battling depression and had some very creepy dreams.  I think God allows wierd dreams when I'm depressed.  He knows the threat of more dreams is about the only thing to get me out of bed. 

I got up, did some laundry, checked his sugar, and the mail.  Ron was happy he got 4 books, one on hoarding. 

I am messy, borderline hoardy.  He has spent 21 years yelling about my tendencies.  Hopefully this will help give him some understanding. 

He did read the prologue and ask me "If the house caught on fire, what would you get out of the house?" 

My Bibles (distribution and personal). 

I have a lot of craft stuff I'm not using.  I am strongly inclined to put them on Craig's List and barter, or sell. 

Antidepressants: not good for toes

A nice quiet day, pretty much. 

Slept in.  Quality time with Ron.  His legs are looking great.  Trimmed his beard.  Laundry. 

Went to the bookstore and got more Bibles (not as many as I'd like, but enough to keep me busy for a bit).  Got McDonald's. 

Ron ate some fries and had me check his sugars.  They spiked but came down quick. 

Came home, nap.  Woke up and did my God Time because I didn't do it earlier. 

Computer time.  Battling depression. 

Got up for a drink and fell over the exercise bike, pretty sure I broke my ring toe.  Ow. 

Good thing I still have the arnica salve.  Ow. 

Antidepressants: good for depression.  Not good for toes.  I have broken a total of 3 toes.  All while taking antidepressants. 

I just run into, and fall over things. 

Ow. 

Tired, so I did a video blog

LEAVE ME ALONE!

You will need a little background for this one. 

Scroll down until I get to the guy at work http://houstonheather.blogspot.com/2012/01/its-been-crazy-couple-days.html

The guy found us on Friday, and was bragging he had been assigned to our area.  He had painted a small break room (the same color) and kept wanting me to admire it, acting like he had done me a personal favor. 

Today Ron gave me a great comeback "Oh, you did your job!"  Trust me, for this guy that is a big deal. 

He gives me the chills.  He doesn't understand boundaries. 

If he does come to work in our area, I will have a talk with him, with  Ron and another employee as witnesses, and lay a few things out. 

1.  Don't follow me into hallways or stockrooms. 
2.  Stay at least 3 feet away from me at all times. 
3.  If you have a question about the vending machines, talk to Ron. 
4.  I am here to work, not to talk. 

Ron will put this on his digital recorder.  Basically me telling him to leave me alone.  If he keeps bothering me Ron can make notes on his recorder and then, if needed, file a formal complaint.  I don't think it will get that far. 

I just hate that I HAVE to do this at all.  Don't they have sexual harrassment training anymore? 

Gavin De Becker is a famous safety expert.  Sometimes, he says, a woman just has to be rude.  A bitch, even, to make her point. 

The point being: LEAVE ME ALONE. 

Trouble getting them to pay!

I love to watch crime dramas.  I try to avoid ones with a lot of sexual content or other immorality.  I was happy when one character was removed from a show after murdering a suspected rapist.  She set a trap for him and killed him. 

Anyway, they always have the autopsy scene (you can tell I'm depressed) where the coroner goes over the body and says "I found bruises on her thigh". 

I always think, if I die mysteriously, Ron might be in trouble.  I have a spectacular bruise on my left thigh and NO idea how I got it.  I bang my legs a lot at work, I run into or fall over carts.  This one looks like I fell over the wheelchair.  At home, I run into walls and furniture on a regular basis.  Last year I broke a toe running into my couch. 

At this level, and quantity of medication, I'm always sporting a bruise.  I'm OK with that but I do wonder what the professionals would think. 

I am vain enough to hope I would have ideal lithium blood levels, upon testing.  I know.  I know. But I want a perfect lithium level. 

I also think, depending on how I die, Ron might have a little trouble getting the insurance to pay! 

I would never relate the following if I thought my Dad would read it.  We have a corded electric lawnmower.  We store the cord on a hose reel.  Back when Ron could mow now and then, he ran over the cord a few times.  He made splices with duct tape, in the 10 amp rated electrical cord. 

I use that cord to mow the yard.  Now, imagine the worst happens.  I am gone to Jesus, electrocuted.  The insurance, and homicide are going to look at that cord and rule my death suspicious.  Ron may be in trouble.

We keep meaning to get a new cord, but things come up, it's a special trip to Home Depot on paratransit, then Ron has to reload it on the hose reel... stupid I know. 

It's ironic, really.  I always saw myself as the sick one.  Ron had his problems, blind, half paralyzed, etc,; but I was sick. 

I take 4-5 medications (depending on migraine status) a day.  I take handfuls of medication.  I have to get blood tests and see a doctor every couple months.  I have to get a nap every day or I get REALLY cranky (that's per Ron "Like a little baby, so cute, but so mean"). 

Now Ron's diabetic.  It's a whole new world of test stips, disinfectant, ointments, meters, and a whole new pantry.  It hasn't been all bad.  Ron loves Armour Bourbon BBQ Vienna Sausage and Lance Flaming Hot peanuts.  His blood sugars are fine.  He's getting protein and fat.  He's happy eating them; in fact begged me to buy more the last two times we went shopping. 

It's ironic, too.  For years I was the "low carb" person.  Now he is, and I'm not.  I did check my sugar, though, an hour after eating some Mexican Milk Candy. 

133.  Fine. 

Of course I plan to go low-carb again.  I just don't know when.  It's a pretty big commitment, but I don't want to end up like Ron. 

God knows he couldn't do for me what I'm doing for him. 

Makes me stronger

Sometimes, an almost day off is worse than the delivery days when I have to unload 2 pallets of soda. 

As you know, I am battling a depression.  My husband is battling diabetes.  This morning he woke up with yet more diabetic blisters.  Here's a link.  http://www.diabetescare.net/content_detail.asp?id=813  They are really uncommon, etc. 

In Ron's case, they almost always break open and form ulcers.  I will not put up a link because they always have horrid photos.  Then the ulcers get infected! 

We have had two rounds of this, a third rogue blister that stayed closed, two rounds of antibiotics.  It's been awful for me and him. 

I have to peroxide and put antibiotic ointment, taking care to use a fresh q-tip or cotton pad on every ulcer to prevent cross contamination.  See, if Ron has a badly infected ulcer, and I apply ointment to it, then use the same applicator to an uninfected blister, I'll spread the infection. 

I feel a lot of pressure on this, as a caregiver the medical professional is always scrutinizing me.  I think, in part, because Ron's case is just so wierd, they think I might have done something. 

Why would I ever do that?  It makes for a ton of work.  I don't want to do toilet issues, if you get my drift, God forbid it went there.  I would, but I would really strongly prefer to avoid it.  If I can do anything, I would rather not be married to a one-legged or no-legged half paralyzed blind man, ya know? 

I was not happy to see a fresh crop of blisters this morning.  Ron swore he didn't drink, and I believe him.  I could tell by his attitude, he was acting very betrayed, rather than victimized (there is a difference).  He did admit he ate about 40 grams of carbs at one time, and then snacked on an additional 30 some carbs in peanuts.  His blood sugar was 127 this morning. 

So, I sighed and got to work.  Clean all the old ulcers, including some hangers on from round one.  One is still about the size of a quarter, on his right calf.  Then clean up round two.   About half of them did not get infected.  Thank God.  The round 3 blister still looks bad, but is closed and not infected.  I'll take that.  Round 4.  Fresh, raw.  Some had already broken open and run together with a half-healed round 2 blister.  UGH. 

I got pretty upset when I saw Ron reaching for his wand massager.  The last thing his leg needs is any kind of friction.  It carries warnings: "Don't use if diabetic" "Don't use on open wounds" "Don't use if you have poor circulation" and "Don't use for more than 10 minutes at a time".  It is very useful for use on a muscle cramp, but Ron sleeps with it. 

In fact, as he demonstrated how he held it, he kept putting it right next to the blisters.  I have to think it is a factor.  I told him about all the warnings and he got very angry at me.  Almost as angry as he used to get if I mentioned giving up alcohol.   He started yelling at me, and God. 

I just said, "It's your legs.  I don't want you to lose a leg, I'm just asking you to stop using it until your legs heal".  He called me back and tried to tell me it wasn't a strong friction, and I reminded him of all the warnings.  I bet money this has happened before. 

Boy, LOTS of data.  Don't ever massage near a pressure sore or diabetic blister.  I also learned that Ron has stage 2 and stage 3 ulcers.  Not really something I wanted to know, but useful. 

I told Ron, who was very recptive.  He kind of shoved his massager at me earlier, so it's out of service. 

Ron was very receptive to the idea of eating his "big meal" during the day so I can check his sugar afterward.  I got him some BBQ vienna sausages.  He tried them and really liked them.  They are not affecting his blood sugars.  I got him some more hot peanuts (portion controlled) with the understanding he would go easy on them. 

I was feeling pretty beat down and unappreciated.  I went and did my God Time.  It is sad I have to be so secretive about it; otherwise I get to hear a tirade about how God doesn't "deserve" my worship. 

Uh, dude.  My soul, my God, my worship.  Try to stop me.  Try. 

So, I did that.  I put up a couple prayer requests online.  I felt better. 

We went to Walmart.  Ron hadn't tried the sausages yet, but wanted more.  I was happy to shove several more cans in the cart.  I doubt he will find many problems if he eats primarily protein and fat.  Like he said "I don't miss the bread" when he eats fast food sandwiches. 

I decided to do a good deed.  Now, God says in the Bible (but I can't find the verse!) "Don't talk about every good deed.  You've already gotten your reward, and you won't get one in Heaven".   Got it!  Matthew 6:1
[ Do Good to Please God ] “Take heed that you do not do your charitable deeds before men, to be seen by them. Otherwise you have no reward from your Father in heaven.

So, I won't talk about it.  I'll just say it involves a little work and that's a good thing.  It kept me busy until my meds kicked in (I take the antidepressant first thing) and I felt better. 

It was interesting when we checked out, and I will talk about this.  I had some bagged up snacks with scripture booklets.  They had taffy, bit of honey, small bag of peanuts, pretzel sticks with cheese dip, some hard candy, and gum.   Driver candy, or "goodie bags". 

I had a shopping cart full of soda, for our secondary location, and personal items for me.  Metrolift was due in 15 minutes, but could be there imminently.  Ron was waiting by the door. 

A woman got permission to cut in front of one woman, cut in front of the man behind me without asking, and then tried to cut in front of me, asking.  The man behind me was black.  She was not.  I found that significant. 

I told her "No, I can't let you cut, Metrolift, my ride, is coming any minute".  She got very upset and made a lot of comments to man behind me like "I'd only be a minute" and "Some people are just so rude." - little realizing the supreme irony of the last statement.  I wanted to say something to her, but decided not to .  She got more upset when I didn't say anything, just cheerfully loaded my stuff and chatting with the cashier. 

Side note, the last time I let someone cut they waved somone over with a bursting shopping cart, then went back into the store a couple times for more items.  I resolved to NEVER do that again. 

What, you may wonder, was the all-important item?  Cigarrettes.  I hate cigarrettes.  They killed my mother.  They are obnoxious and give me headaches.  The LAST thing I would do is let someone cut in front of me so they could buy smokes. 

It got better.  "I just had surgery" she whined. And you're smoking, I thought.  Thanks for running up my Medicare.   The guy asked her when "Oh, a few weeks ago..." I wanted to roll my eyes. 

I could feel her staring at me, and looking at my things on the cart.  So what.  Ron likes BBQ vienna sausage.   She continued telling the guy in the back how she was such a victim, and so unfair to wait on me checking out because I wouldn't let her go ahead, it would have been just a minute, etc. 

I thought, you know, here's a really good opportunity.  The Bible tells me:

 

Matthew 5:44

New King James Version (NKJV)

⁴⁴ But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you,^[a]

 

I decided to do it, just for fun.  I gave her a goodie bag.  She wouldn't take it until the cashier said I'd given her one, too.  She just gaped at me. 

 

It was so much fun, and worth every comment.  She asked me "Why are you doing this?" (implied, after I was so rude to you) and I said "I like to spoil people". 

 

"Gotta go" I told her "My ride's comin' any minute". 

 

I had time to get a snack and then we headed over to the secondary location.  We got that stocked and I got a few little things I needed. 

 

I came home and had my first nap without nightmares, in about a week.  I have been plagued with wierd dreams and nightmares, during this depression. 

 

I guess I need to pray for a better night's sleep.