I never told you about Thursday

Thursday was INSANE.  Like "Insane in the brain" crazy. 

I got up early.  I slept badly because some maniac was banging on my neighbor's door at 10:30 at night.  I had to get up at 4?  Thanks! 

Got up, God Time, Shower.  We went to the warehouse.  I got a lot of supplies.  We went to work. 

As I stocked, someone came by and said "Oh, you are stocking".  Apparently someone made a complaint.  Agh. 

As if that wasn't bad enough, we had our quarterly review.  She liked what I had done, but did not like Ron's food machines. 

Finally time to go.  To the doctor.  To pick up Ron's paperwork, which was incomplete.  AGH.  So, it had to go back to the doctor again (we stayed up front). 

I had packed a lunch, so about this time you'd find me munching cheese sticks and salad in a chair, in the waiting room.  We got the papers, then back home to get the wheelchair. 

Ron always wants to "be a wheelchair" when going to the paratransit office.  We had a nice driver, one I really like. 

We got there, turned it in, saw it stamped and processed, got her name.  Now we get to wait an hour on the ride home. 

Ron has to reapply every 3 years, for service.  It weeds out people who aren't committed to using the service.  It is a big hassle, though, and we aren't even done yet. 

We finally got home, I spent a little time online and went to bed early.  I slept about 11 hours. 

I only had one dream, featuring a chocolate sandwich cookie with a peanut butter filling.  Odd.  The last time I ate peanuts I got a hive.  I assume that means I am working on an allergy, so I'll never eat peanuts again. 

All in all, I was pretty calm. 

Oh, and I found out I can eat a cup of cottage cheese, drink a cup of soymilk, and take my pills with no nausea. 

A trip to the meat market

Recently, while riding metrolift, we rode past the meat market.  I have heard very good things about the meat, the low prices, and the excellent quality. 

I'm low carbing.  Why should I buy iffy meats from the supermarket when I can buy delicious fresh meats at the meat market? 

I decided to go.  I checked out the website and everything looked fantastic.  Ron made the trip. 

Now, the way they had set up the trip originally had us there for about 2 hours.  2 hours, in a place with about 3000 square feet of public space. 

He haggled them down.  We also brought the folding chair. 

I got in there and got my bearings.  I looked around in the meat cases.  All the sausage was about $3.80 a pound (that's the price of a "good" TV dinner).  The meat prices seemed competitive.  I saw delicious stew meat and beef neck bones.  I wanted them, but decided to wait until next time. 

I went back to the sausage counter.  I got 2 pounds of smoked breakfast sausage with cheese in it.  I got a pound of regular ground breakfast sausage.  I got a pound of garlic pork sausage.  I got some bacon ends.  They had the ends in small bags, not those 5# behemoths you find at the grocery store.  I also got Ron a pound of Jalapeno Cheddar sausage. 

The summer sausage looked very good, and very good prices, but I have some salami in the fridge and I don't want to waste food. 

Ron was "doing battle" with Comcast customer service, while sitting in his chair.  He wasn't in a very good mood. 

While shopping, I ran into one of our former employees.  My favorite.  I was so happy to see her, I gave her a hug.  I told "The Boss" how lucky she was to have her, and I clearly meant every word. 

Yeah, it was a pretty long wait to go home, but, in my mind, worth it.  And I also figured out how I could work it on the bus. 

This is disgusting by any standard

I don't want to make poor Melanie lose her lunch. 

OK.  Normal day, Baby Girl goes into her litter box.  She runs out like something is chasing her and drops a turd in the doorway. 

Ron is blind.  If Ron gets up he's going to step in that turd and track it everywhere.  Baby Girl looked up at me dejectedly "I'm sorry". 

In a year, she has never done anything like this.  She looked at the turd with sorrow and disgust, then started licking it. 

I realize, in horror, the poor thing is going to EAT it to clean it up!  I pushed her out of the way, got some toilet paper, and flushed it.  She was so thrilled to see it go down the drain. 

I'm going to add, we have four litterboxes, one in each room, for the cats.  I clean them every couple days (they mostly go outside).  When I do clean I find a pee clump or two, and maybe one or two turds per box. 

I often think, of all the cats I've known, Baby Girl is the best candidate for actual toilet training - sitting on the toilet and doing her business. 

I got the carpet cleaner, pet fresh variety (the turds leave a little "crap here" signature scent), and sprayed it in the general area.  I want to make it very clear to both cats the doorway is OFF LIMITS. 

Ron started ranting.  He doesn't like the spray.  I told him, I'm trying to keep this area clear.  More ranting.  "YOUR CAT", I told him. 

You can imagine the excitement when I got the vacuum.  Both cats fled in terror before I even turned it on.  I had disassembled it to clean the filter and the reassembly was not easy.  I couldn't get it to work, and Ron kept making comments to that effect "It's thumping.  Something's wrong." 

Yes.  I.  Know.  That. 

I finally got it working.  Ron did give me some acclaim on that, but I just wanted to vacuum up the stupid cat litter, which had fallen out of the basket when I was working on it.  Then I got the doorway. 

Ron was then pretty upset that the cats ran off due to the vacuum.  It's a normal part of cat life but in his mind I tortured his daughters.  So, I got to hear a lot about that, too. 

Agh. 

Overflow

I was going to tell you all about my plans for tomorrow, but I got a big NO on that (from God).  OK.  I try to listen. 

I'll tell you about today, instead.  Woke up tired and depressed.  I was catless all night, they slept with Ron instead. 

I managed to get my shower, but I only got half my God Time.  I talked to Ron a little, ate some plain greek yogurt (I am getting pretty sick of it), and went to work. 

I've wanted to take a box into work.  Today I finally remembered and got it going. 

I felt bad for Ron.  He was stuffed in the backseat of the minivan with one enormous young man, and one average young man.  It's a good thing Ron's pretty thin.  I would have had a horrible time back there. 

You may wonder why I prefer to sit in the front seat.  Well, there were two guys.  One didn't bathe.  He was also very large, and his flesh overlapped onto my bare arms.  He kept moving around, as his arm rubbed against me.  I carried a stench of unwashed body until I got to work, and my bottle of rubbing alcohol.  He was so large, and the backseat so full (3 is the capacity but if one person is significantly overweight they "overlap" onto the others), I had no way to escape. 

In the other instance, the driver sat Ron in the front seat, me in the middle, a very large woman to my right, and a guy with open sores all over his arms, to my left.  The woman's bulk kept shoving me into the guy and my bare arms (I nearly always wear a t-shirt) into the sores.  I worried for months if I had caught something from the guy. 

After that, Ron suggested I sit up front, which I do if at all possible.  The backseat looked very uncomfortable today and thank God Ron "took" it for me.  It can get pretty suffocating at times, but Ron cheerfully bears up, and since he's significantly slimmer than the "average" seating capacity the other clients have a little room to "overflow". 

I am so glad I have lost 17 pounds.  I am working to trim myself down.  Being obese carries a lot of disabling health risks, so no surprise most of the clients are pretty heavy.  The weight and mobility issues are also fed into a vicious chicken-and-egg cycle, too. 

I aim to manage my own weight, if possible (to me the medication remains a question mark in my ability to lose). 

So, we had all that drama before we even got to work!  Finally there, yay! 

I got my box and went in ahead of Ron (he's fine).  I dealt with it and checked the machines.  Almost empty!  Well!  That's a good thing. 

We stocked what we could and did our inventory.  We need to buy the inventory and take it into work.  I got some of it today at Walmart, actually.  The food cost is a little higher on some of the items but it doesn't matter.  I used $10 of my own money. 

I figure I probably will drink about $10 in soda this month, so we're even. 

I also got some groceries.  Ron wanted "Those little crackers" - a new item I added to our lineup.  The carbs are manageable because I know he will only eat a single cracker now and then.  [Lance whole wheat sharp cheddar, if you're interested]

I had a single item on my list: cheese.  That about covered it.  I got TP, of course, Ron got cat treats, a massive bag that got the cats very excited, and lots of cheese. 

What do I mean? 
Cottage cheese (large curd only, please)
String cheese
Stick cheese with meat sticks
2 pound block extra sharp cheddar
Cream cheese

I also got salad dressing and room fresheners (cooking odors tend to migrate to my bedroom) in vanilla.  I'd like a lavender type thing, but Ron hates lavender.  He prefers tropical and fruits, which I hate.  We compromise on vanilla, and I have a "tropical" automatic air freshener in the front room.  I got a cone to put beside my computer, here. 

I had pretty much everything else I needed, so we checked out and got some lunch.  I ate my bunless hamburger outside, throwing my bun to the grackles.  I figured they'd like it and it wouldn't make them fat. 

They had a field day, feasting away, calling each other, and basically having a party over our discarded bread.  I told Ron it was the only good use for bread.  He agreed, his mouth full of spicy chicken (he can eat more carbs, but he regulates them and has lost "two holes on my belt").  About that time our ride arrived and we went home. 

I got a nap, but had some wierd dreams.  Now I need to fix dinner and figure out my next couple of meals.  Then bed. 

I'll tell you about tomorrow, tomorrow. 

Phobias

I don't have what you might consider the traditional phobias. 

I am afraid of large and aggressive dogs.  If I see someone walking a dog that seems iffy, I'll cross the street.  I also check to make sure the fence is sturdy when I pass a certain house on my way to the bus stop. 

Ron was hit by a car while crossing the street.  He had the right of way, the driver ran a red light.  Not surprisingly, since the accident I have had a fear of crossing the street, particularly very busy streets (we have an abundance in Houston).  I can get pretty anxious, particularly if I had too much caffeine.  Certain streets (like Veteran's, or 249) are completely impossible for me.   

Heights.  I can't even go in the attic.  I would love to be the chick cleaning out the gutters and trimming trees, but I can barely get on the stepladder.  I fell down the stairs when I was a toddler, at least once that I remember (and was just left to cry on my own - people wonder why my mother lost custody).   I'm not a fan of heights.  Poor Dad built "the kids" a tree house.  The "younger kids" (my level) was about 6-7 feet off the ground.  I was scared to death of it.  Dad basically dragged me up there and I huddled in the middle, quivering.  I also had a panic attack when he threw me, playfully, off the garage roof into a massive leaf pile (the leaves were about 7 feet high in a cylidrical enclosure, about 20 feet in diameter).  Everyone else had a great time, but I was so hysterical they sent me to bed. 

Last but not least, escalators - particularly the high-rise escalators that seem popular in Houston.  They go up from the building lobby, 2 or 3 floors, the space gaping and clawing at my back.  I always take the elevator. 

Thank God I'm not scared of them! 

"Me and your husband gonna party"

Say what? 

She seemed normal enough as I got on the paratransit vehicle.  We chatted a little about my cat and the cat door.  She'd never seen one. 

Then she mentioned the house for rent (the majority of our subdivision homes are owner-resident, though).  I told her I didn't know the rent, but "We're pretty quiet here, so if you like to party you might want to look for something else." 

She very rudely accused me of being a racist.  I told her I had also told a driver we were quiet, and he thanked me, because he did like to party and didn't want a lot of conflict.   She shut up about the racist thing when she saw Ron "OH, I remember you, we rode a while back" . 

Ron, by the way, is a light skinned black man.  Clearly a black man.  I imagine a bigot would have a difficult time married to an "inferior" race for 21 years.  [rolleyes] 

Anyway, the conversation got wierder.  She started talking about all the wild parties her family had, parking in other people's driveways during the party (did they have permission?).  "We go all up and down the block, every time!" 

She kept watching me intently, I wasn't sure what she wanted.  I nodded slightly and turned to face Ron, chatting with him. 

We had a short ride.  We arrived quickly, thank God.  When we got there the other woman said "I bet your husband likes to party.  We gonna party sometime.  We could have a good time, he and I."  I just stared at her, baffled, before I got off. 

My morning meds can make me a little groggy, so I ran it past Ron.  Yes, she had accused me of being racist.  Yes, she was "threatening to take him away" - but Ron made his opinion really clear on the subject (he cannot abide ignorant women), yes, things were as wierd as I thought. 

I wonder what they have as her disability, on the paperwork. 

Oh, well.  I'm sure I came off "stupid" but I would rather be seen as stupid, than an enemy. 

Sometimes I forget

Ron's primary love language is acts of service: paying the bills, taking me places.  I told him I'd like to go to an Asian Grocery store.  The place is huge. 

However, a couple of issues about getting there:  1.  It requires two bus rides.  2.  I'd have to cross a very busy street (more on that in my next entry - needless to say I get anxious).  3.  It is very close to the "ghetto" apartments where the gangbanger pulled a gun on me, pointing it in my face while the paratransit driver asked for directions.  Gun Play blog   After pointing it at me for the longest 45 seconds of my life (and it was a REAL gun - the toy guns have an orange circle around the muzzle - this one did NOT), he began gesturing with the gun, pointing the way to the requested building.  The place has a lot of gangbangers and drug dealing, per the online apartment reviews - so it's not just my perception. 

I feel safer in Acres Homes, considered one of the worst in Houston, than I do at that complex. 

Having said all that, Ron was delighted to arrange a ride.  He asked me to bring the folding chair and waited off to the side.  The layout of the store reminded me of my childhood grocery store. 

I grabbed my cart and found the tea aisle.  I wanted some Pu-erh tea, maybe some Tuo-cha.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pu-erh_tea

I had read, years ago, that it might help with nausea, which as you know is a definite tagalong in my life.  It seems to help me.  I like the taste and smell, too. 

Some remedies are so ghastly I would rather be ill.  This is nice.  I like it.  However, it's hard to find outside of a large Asian market. 

I had hoped to find it.  I did.  Tea bags AND loose.  I also got some lavender green tea - that should be nice to try when I'm manic, to calm me down.   I got a small tea ball for the loose tea - I have a large one at home, but sometimes I just want a cup. 

Lastly, I checked out the vegetables.  I had seen a lot of people, clearly local growers, unloading vegetables from their cars.  I was curious to see the selection. 

I'd seen long beans (which have a flavor I don't like), okra, and beautiful eggplants.  I'm not a fan of them, but they do grow well in Houston. 

I squealed with joy when I found tricolored amaranth greens, labeled Rau Den.  Yay!  I was prepared to go crosstown all the way to the Farmer's Market.  Now I can stay home, and I got a very nice bunch for $1.39.  Amaranth info

How do you cook it, I was asked.  Well, I can steam it in the microwave, stir fry (personal favorite), or even raw, even though it's a little gritty and bitter. 

I also got some nice looking snow peas and headed to checkout.  I want to eat more vegetables, fresh (which means local, if possible) and delicious.  If I force myself to eat things like squash I'll burn out and go off the wagon in a spectacular way.  If I eat things I like, I'll keep eating them. 

I just have to figure out interesting ways to prepare them, if needed. 

When we got home I ate the last of the chicken.  It was good.  I should be good for a while now on chicken.  I am only a fan at certain times. 

I am taking my meds later, so I just took a nap, which, surprisingly, I needed.

Sometimes I forget I am very sick. 

Keep my food to myself

I'm pretty depressed and tired today, so not a lot of sparkle today.  Sorry. 

Slept badly, no cat in the bed. 

Woke up depressed.  My hair looked OK so I skipped my shower after some work with the washcloth.  I got these moist bathing wipes for Ron, but I find them useful on depressed days. 

Went to work.  Things look good.  Delivery guy was late but I expected that, due to the rain.  Came home, nap. 

Talked to Ron, did some research - a friend needs to fix his cat.  I did the research and Ron called them with the information. 

Watched a little TV, cooked my dinner, and cooked some breakfast for tomorrow with the last of the raw chicken.  It's so wierd to keep my food to myself - no cats stealing bites or begging.  Wierd. 

I still miss Bubba. 

Ron said he'd take me somewhere, so I got the address and gave it to him, for tomorrow.  It should be a good thing to get out of the house. 

I took my Haldol & Friends later today, Ron said he liked having me more alert so I may continue to take it at dinnertime.  Per Doc, it doesn't matter when or how I take it, as long as I take it every day. 

I'm not queasy, so I'm happy.  I kept my food numbers down in Fitday so I should lose a little soon. 

I was up a little this morning.  Boo. 

6 AM thoughts on a Sunday

I got almost 200 hits yesterday.  Awesome. 

I figured, being offline my hit counter would be way down - it isn't.  I also figured with a lot of hits I'd have a lot of spam, and I did, but a couple of clicks take care of that. 

If you ever consider starting a blog, please put it on "comment moderation".  That way, you can approve all posts before they post under your name and possibly your photo. 

Since I am "religous" I tend to get a lot of alternate viewpoints.  Surprisingly, the JW's are more aggressive in posting than the unreached.  Yes, I know some of you hate that but isn't it better than "lost"?  

This was mostly ad stuff.  I guess if I get a lot of hits then I might be a good marketplace. 

I have thought about allowing ads, but sales are a little better at work so that's back on the shelf.  That would be a "last resort".  I have seen to many blogs infested with popups and very difficult to read.  They remind me of those old angelfire websites.  Yeah, it's "free" but your readers pay for it. 

Anyway, I slept OK last night but I had a nightmare I had a migraine.  When I woke myself up, I realized I did, in fact, have a migraine.  Not much fun. 

The Excedrin did the trick, though.  Thank God.  I was pretty nonfunctional until it kicked in. 

Of course, once the caffeine hit there was no going back to sleep, so I got up early.  Ron's delighted "online" is working out and keeps asking me if everything's OK.  I keep telling him it's fine.  It is. 

Now I need to take my shower, do my God Time (maybe not in that order), and eat.  I've learned my lesson - I need to eat big meals when I have a migraine even it it does sound counterintiutive.  If I don't eat a lot I get sick when I take my pills - and I am always going to take my pills. 

What?

When I saw Doc Thursday, he had the medical student (a resident or intern, I believe) file my prescriptions electronically. 

Yesterday I got a call, it was ready.  All $107 worth.  What? 

My stuff should cost about $50.  I knew I had a problem.  I called the pharmacy and the technician started laughing.  "You have blood pressure pills, diabetes medication, and sleeping pills."

I have a dead terror of anything addictive, and I'm adamant about not putting any of that into my body.  It's just begging for trouble. 

Fact: 80% of people with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome have an addiction. 
Fact: 75% of children of alcoholics have an addiction. 
Fact:  I have addicts in my family. 
Fact: I have Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, and I am the child of an alcoholic. 
Fact: the one time I did take a narcotic pain killer, I started liking it way too much, for the 2 weeks I took it (prior to my ovarian cyst surgery). 

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no NEVER would I accept that prescription.  She laughed again and said she would "fix" it. 

After I hung up, I guess the junkie part of my brain started thinking "Sleeping pills could be a really good thing, Heather, maybe you can get them anyway.  After all, they're prescribed.  It's not your fault." 

NO NO NO NO NO NO... you get the idea. 

Praise God, when I got there it had been fixed, and my total was $54, for MY drugs.  [shudder] 

I can't think of anything more terrifying than having something addictive around, and that's taking Ron out of the picture. 

A week in the life...

I have to laugh at myself.  Finding myself offline, I decided to blog everyday, then do a cut and paste when I got back online. 

My internet's down, but that won't stop me writing.

Ron's a fixer. When I present a problem, he likes to fix it. So, he's "fixed" mine by arranging for a new modem installation Monday - 6 days away.

Blogging/journaling is good for me. It helps clear my head; so I plan to keep it up. I plan to do daily entries into this document, then cut and paste to "Heather Knits" when I'm back online again.

8/20

We've been really busy with work the last couple days. It seems like we're buying more merchandise and stocking it daily. That's great - that means more money. Things have been very tight lately. When I offered to take a paycut last month, Ron seriously considered it for a split second before refusing.

Last year, I did take a paycut. I'm not playing martyr, it's just more practical to put the money into inventory. Paying me doesn't render a direct profit, stocking the machines will.

I can finally say, now, the machines look good. I wouldn't be embarassed if our supervisor came by to do an inspection (they do, on a regular basis). We have worked pretty much every day for a week straight - NOT complaining.

Like I said, more sales equal more profit, and Ron was happy to pay someone to do the installation for us (the last modem install was a hideous nightmare that literally drove me to tears). I like to stay busy, I love my job.

I was really happy today, the plant manager came by and bought "my" new crackers. I felt very validated. I made it a point to thank him sincerely for his business. No one HAS to put money into our machines; I know that. I appreciate every penny. We're living on it, after all.

So, a lot of time at work today, but when we left the machines were nearly perfect (I need to get more saltines).

After work, we came home. Baby Girl came out to say hello and I picked her up, putting my hand under her butt. I kissed her head and talked to her for a moment, then I put her down.

I was pretty horrified to see the glistening white roundworm on the hand I'd put under her butt. My baby was wormy. I about boiled my hands, washing them.

Then I hunted down the worm paste. I try to keep remedies in the house, for human and feline. Systemic flea drops. Ear mite drops. Worm paste; because cats have just as many health problems as the humans.

Ron being blind, I'm the bad guy when it comes to dosing. I had enough paste for both cats, and figured, since they share a food and water bowl, I'd better dose them both. They weren't happy.

Then I washed (boiled) my hands again and took a nap. Torbie *usually* sleeps with me, but not today. I went to sleep alone.

We had a small thunderstorm while I slept. I'm glad it rained when it did.

When I woke up, I had both cats in my room and Torbie in my bed. They must have figured out I'd dosed them to make them feel better. I can only imagine how it must feel to have a parasite infection. Poor babies. Nothing's going to suck their blood on MY watch.

Of course, since I used up my stuff I need to buy more, when I get their systemic flea drops (I dose them on the third). I don't drive - I can't just pop out to the pet store. I like to have a pantry.

I got up, dressed, and went with Ron to the chicken place. $1 special. He loves them. He is losing weight at a slow and steady rate. "I'm down two holes on my belt" he told me, proudly. He looks good, too.

The rides were messed up, and Ron basically got a "turnaround" trip - basically a lot like you would do in a car. I told Ron to go home by himself (which he can) and I'd go out and have a little day out. This week, and most of next, looks to be eaten up by errands and duty. Not much time for fun.

So, Ron went home. I went to the Asian grocery store. I kept seeing all these detox teas and slimming diet teas. I thought they might be fun to try, but reminded myself of the "bad trip" I had on the Coenzyme Q10 last weekend. I got an organic green tea, some oolong... and spices.

I find vegetables boring. When I went to McDonald's today (after the chicken place, before the market), I found the salad a chore. It wasn't bad. The Cesar dressing is OK. I just don't like vegetables.

I figured some spices might make them more interesting. So I got some black bean garlic paste (it's fermented, very strong tasting, very good, and low carb), some garlic-chili paste, curry, stuff like that. I spent about $20 total for the teas and the spices.

It was pretty late by then, so I came home. Since I was traveling during "peak hours" I had an easy ride home.

8/21

A very long day. I woke up exhausted, hit the snooze button a couple times, got up. I lost another half a pound. Ron wanted to talk a while, so we did. I got my shower, ate, not enough time for my God Time. I felt a little bad about that, but I know God wants me to have a decent marriage, too.

I am so freaking tired. We have been running around getting things for work, stocking for work, running personal errands, even with naps I'm wiped out.

Our ride came and we went to the bank. Apparently the debit card is expired, but they could still use it to make the deposit. Then we had to go get the new debit card, which took a while. Ron had been upset paratransit had left him “so long” at the bank, but as it worked out we had “enough” time to get everything done.

We went home, and got the Direct TV receivers. The company sent us a box. I have to mail them back, regular mail. Shipping is already paid. However, for practical reasons (I don't have time to sit around all day waiting for carrier pickup) I had to take it to the Post Office. If I have to do that, I'm going to take it to the window, and get a reciept proving I mailed it. That's just smart, especially when the company says it'll be $90 if they don't get it.

So, we did our usual thing, Ron waited at a fast food restaurant. One that does not have good food choices for the low carber. A few days ago, I bought a lot of deli meat. I ate the last of it with some hard, extra sharp cheddar today. Then I went to the restaurant.

Ron got a small item, and a drink. I got a drink, and left. I stepped in a hole but God didn't allow me to get hurt. I could have easily broken my ankle.

I got my receipt (the clerk said I was smart to do it this way), and headed back. We had a good ride over to our secondary location.

The machine was almost empty, so we have to stock it tomorrow after I see my doctor. Just seeing Doc usually wipes me out – so this will be interesting.

I headed over to the nearby dollar store, to get some “crack nuts” for Ron. He loves the Lance Hot and Spicy peanuts. At this store, he can buy 5, .8 oz packets of nuts, for a dollar. It's a good deal and excellent portion control.

I wanted to get some portion control treats for Doc and his girls. He has about 5 “office gals” and a few associates. I got him some small Hershey bars, and the girls some of the devil's food cream pies. It should be enough for everyone in the office.

I also got a small, clear glass coffee mug. It's ironic. I have an extensive coffee cup collection, most of it boxed up in the garage. I have about 2/3 of the states, several countries, and even a White House official mug. However, my favorite, daily use mugs have always been the plainest ones imaginable.

I have a large, clear mug that holds 3 cups of tea. I love it.

I wanted a “little buddy” to keep it company when I really only do want a single serving.

I started getting really hungry, and those treats in my cart were not helping my appetite (later, reviewing my food journal – kept in a spiral notebook, I realized I had every right to get hungry). Happily, I was near a Mc Donald's.

I ran over there and got a couple of plain double hamburgers – the ones that cost a dollar. I called Ron, he said he could go for a salad and a burger, himself.

As I left, headed back to our pickup location, thinking that while I may be too depressed most days to cook or prepare a lot of food for Ron, I can certainly buy him a healthy, ready-made item.

I got back to the location, eating my bunless burger as I walked in. After about 10 minutes, I realized I was still hungry, so I ate the other one. I'm trying to be more aware of my hunger, eating until full and then stopping. I had a bad habit of mindless eating until it was all gone.

Finally, our ride. But wait, he's over by the dollar store. I waved and waved, he ignored me. To make matters worse, he even got out of the paratransit vehicle and smoked!

I was so mad – until our ride showed up. Ooops.

We came home and I went straight to bed, but Ron had a couple of phone calls regarding the cable internet installation, coming Friday, now. It's great I get it sooner, not so great Friday will be a run around day too.

Finally, I got my nap. I woke up around 5.

 
I made myself some decaf tea in my new mug, and my old one. I'm at my computer, blogging inspite of the internet.

I'm just praying for some healthy downtime.

Have you noticed, a lot of times you only get the downtime when you're sick or hurt? I am begging God to keep that from happening.

Tomorrow, we leave to see Doc at 9. After Doc, we meet my aunt for a fast food lunch. Then we go to the store and buy sodas for the secondary location, then take it to the location and stock them.

Friday we get up very early, go to work, come home, do the install, and then please God it is quiet on Saturday.

8/22

Not the highlight of my day: riding metrolift, very queasy, sitting in the far back of the van, on the verge of vomiting, for about an hour. Ugh.

I think it started with the headache, and breakfast: I woke up early with a vicious headache. It would have been a migraine, but for the excedrin, which I took on an empty stomach.

Then I had some whey protein because I had no appetite for breakfast. I take what I feel is the logical approach, if I'm not hungry, don't eat. I did need to take 2 medications that cause nausea, so I thought the whey would work. Next time, I'll eat some whole fat greek yogurt or cottage cheese.

The headache persisted for hours, in spite of a repeated dose of excedrin.

Ron apologized for being difficult yesterday. I was gracious.

Our ride came, late, and we were almost late to my appointment. At one point we had to wend our way, back and forth, through a subdivision, to find a client. I kid you not, it must have taken 10 minutes each just to get in and out.

We got there and we got out.

Last night, I made a conclusion. Doc's office is in an office building. The office building has a 3 story escalator in the lobby. I hate escalators, and heights - so it is about the worst thing possible for me. I'd rather go through a pit of rattlers than ride that thing.

However, they have an elevator. I chose to take that instead. It went very well, except for the fire alarm. They kept having problems with the alarm going off.

Let me tell you, it is a loud alarm, and very annoying. I felt bad for the other patients in Doc's office - the last thing you need when you're already "ill" is a loud fire alarm screaming in your ear.

I paid up and went in on time. Doc likes to have the med students work visit with me. I think it is very important to educate the doctors of tomorrow; to educate them about mental illness and show them happy outcomes.

I told him a little about my illness, shared the "bad trip" last weekend, and discussed some of my symptoms and side effects. About that time Doc came in.

I bought him some candy, which he liked. Since Doc lost about 90 pounds, years ago, I am very careful to bring him modest portions and small serving sizes. I don't want to contribute to a backslide and regain. He was happy to see it.

The intern asked about side effects, and I explained I was OK with my side effects because I have a very serious, mortal, illness. I am well aware it will kill me if I don't manage. He understood and we sent things off to the pharmacy.

Then I left, after making my next appointment.

We met my aunt for lunch. I still didn't have much of an appetite, but I needed to eat so I could take my lithium.

Very little gets in the way of taking my lithium.

We went to McDonald's. Ron got a side salad and the fried chicken sandwich. He ate half the bun. I thought it was funny, he was clearly trying to "sneak". I don't mind him eating a few carbs now and then as long as he is good overall.

I ate two bunless value burgers and took my pills. I drank a lot of diet soda, as is my custom, and we went back to the office to wait for my pickup.

I was OK until we got on the van. I think the bouncing in the very back seats, combined with the meager breakfast and large quantity of stomach-irritating pills (10 total), combined to create a nauseous revolt.

I had a gallon zip lock back in my backpack. If the worst had happened, it would have gone in the back and been zipped up with no "Cleanup on aisle 12".

Actually, the paratransit company calls it a "Code 2" (the client got sick in the vehicle). Happily we did not have one by whatever name you choose. I was praying, let me tell you.

The driver was incredibly kind when I explained my dilemma. I had Ron call in a compliment on her the second we got home. A lot of people would have been angry or frustrated at a queasy client, but she was very kind and professional.

I got home and curled up in bed. Ron brought me another pillow for my bed. I fell asleep for a couple hours and woke up not really queasy, but certainly not hungry either. I've been drinking sugarfree fruit punch (for hydration) but that's all.

When my body is ready for food, I'll get hungry and want to eat everything, even those collards in the freezer. 

 

Friday:

My first driver was an enormously pregnant woman who is overdue.  I worried she might to into labor while driving. 

 

We went to work very early, came home, did the internet install (clearly), and then went to Walmart.  We got some supplies at work, for the secondary location.  I got a few groceries (a frozen veggie stir fry mix), which I put in my cold bag. 

 

We went to the secondary location, stocked, and went to a Dollar Store to get some supplies.  Then we came home.  I watched TV for a little while but went to bed very early. 

 

I woke up at 6 today, I had a headache from sleeping so long but it was worth the rest.   

Don't make me cry

Thank God, I'm back online. 

First thought - if you want to share your version of the "True Gospel", then I invite you to start your own blog.  You will not be using mine as a forum, thank you very much. 

That said, oh, I missed you. 

I don't like to bash.  I really don't.  However, I will relate a little history.  Years ago, Ron got me AT&T DSL.  It worked fine for years, and I loved it.  However, that modem died, and they sent us a new one.  The second modem only lasted a year, until about this time last year. 

About this time, I talked Ron into turning off the land-line.  We seldom use it anyway. 

When I got my new modem, every time (all 3 modems) they either had no installation disk or the wrong one.  I always had to call tech support, and last time, the tech was so nasty she drove me to tears.  It takes a lot to make me cry, but she was very rude and impatient with me.  Note this. 

So, when this modem died I nearly cried again at the thought of all the drama.  However, our cable salesman told us he'd be happy to hook us up with new internet, at a lower price, whenever we wanted. 

Might I add, at this point, that Comcast has been completely awesome to us?  It's all been good with them. 

Ron called the salesman and got it set up.  The tech came out yesterday.  He was very nice.  He did everything.  Everything.  No unpleasant phone calls to tech support.  I just get online.  That's what I want. 

The bundle (yes, I know the bundle will end one day, but even when it does it will still be cheaper than what we were paying for satellite TV, and AT&T internet) is far more affordable than our previous bills, and I'm very happy.  So's Ron. 

Moral of the story, if you don't want to lose my business, don't make me cry. 

Modem is down

Easy Mark

Every couple years I take something over the counter; every couple years I hallucinate.  While doing my God Time today (pray/Bible Study/seek God's will) I kept thinking about the new supplement I started on Friday; thinking I needed to research the side effects. 

Yup.  Half a percent hallucinate.  [facepalm]   I won't be taking that again. 

It's not the supplement's fault, so I won't name it.  I would love to get Ron taking it (it is fine for "normal" people), so I plan to keep it for him. 

Last night, I got to thinking.  The paranormal is so popular these days, and I'm sure some would say "Oh, Heather, you have a *power* you are neglecting.  That's why you see things." 

Ah.  No.  I believe mediums, etc. are connected to a familiar, demonic, spirit.  The demon feeds them the data they use to impress their clients. 

That is all totally forbidden in the Bible, by the way.  http://www.kingjamesbibleonline.org/Bible-Verses-About-Familiar-Spirits/

If I ever met a medium I would walk away, even if I were offered a free "reading".   Correction, I would offer a Bible, offer prayer and my testimony.   Then I would walk away.  So, I find it ironic. 

Years ago, when I was backslid (not adhering to the Bible and living an immoral life) Ron and I went to a psychic fair.  We got aura photos.  I can tell from my expression in the photo I was manic; but they said I was "psychic".  Huh. 

I think that mental illness opens the door to demonic interference, and that's why we so often have persecutory delusions about demons.  Unmedicated, we are easy game for Bad Things. 

Which is why I am so diligent about taking my pills.  I'm not "psychic" - I'm an easy mark. 

My hallucinations

Still depressed and mixed moods.  Ron is trying to bait me by playing loud rap music, which he hates.  I can last a lot longer than him. 

Yup, he turned it off. 

So, I thought I might talk about my hallucinations, since I had one today.  I saw "The man who wasn't there" today, at work. 

Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
I wish, I wish he’d go away...

When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn’t see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door... (slam!)

Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antigonish_(poem)

I came out of our stockroom and saw a man, standing to one side, wearing a button down shirt and jeans.  He had gray hair, and was working an electronic device.  He didn't look "solid", so I looked away, and then back.  He was gone - a hallucination.  That's a visual hallucination.  I will see something out of the corner of my eye, or when I look away and then back it vanishes. 

I never knew I had tactile hallucinations until I started on antipsychotics.  I was so accustomed to the feeling of bugs crawling on my skin (and yes, it's as bad as it sounds), it was a shock to have it end so easily.  When I was very sick with a migraine and couldn't take my pills, the bugs came back. 

It is occasionally frustrating, because when I encounter real bugs on my skin I tend to dismiss it as a hallucination.  I had a spectacular leg full of fire ant bites as a result, one day while working in the garden. 

Lastly, I have the audio hallucination.  Once, I heard laughter.  No, I have never "heard voices".  I just hear music, like a radio far off, the same motif repeated again and again.  I usually deal with that when I'm trying to sleep.  I have had that lately, a bit. 

So, when I see Doc I think I'll ask him to increase my Haldol.  I'm getting a little tired of this. 

A man's world?

Boy, Ron is upset. 

It started with the Katydid.  Baby Girl likes to bring one in, now and then, in the morning.  The girls chase it around until it dies.  They're just being cats.  Those bugs are so awful looking with all the legs and all - I let them die. 

So, I'm a murderer.  I'm sure the Buddhists are very upset. 

At any rate, I warned Ron, "Don't go down the hall until I check it.  I don't want you to step on the screaming bug." 

"Thanks" he told me "If I did step on the bug, I wouldn't speak to you for a month." 

"Wait a minute," I said "If that's the case, go ahead and walk down the hall."  I get really tired of his negativity and "Reality isn't real" tirades.  It's offensive and annoying to be talked down to because I choose to live in my existence.  I would love a break. 

He got very upset and said, fine, he wouldn't talk to me outside of work.  I just shrugged my shoulders and got ready for work. 

We went to the warehouse, got some supplies, and went to work.  I stocked them.  The crackers are doing very well, and they have an excellent food cost.  I want them in my coils. 

We did that, Ron was fine. 

Then on the way home he was listening to Aretha, and she was singing "It's a man's world". 

I told him "No, it's not". 

He disputed the point. 

"Fine," I replied.  "I'll stay home Monday and you'll see how much you need me." 

He got upset and said that would be "cruel".  I told him, it sounded like he did need me after all.  Maybe it wasn't just a man's world.  He made some crack about paying the bills. 

I hate how he holds that over me.  He can only pay the bills because I am his caregiver, and I work with him.   He acts like he's working 60 hours a week while I'm at bridge club. 

So, now he's sulking and ignoring, me, while doing things to bait me so I "have" to talk to him (playing the radio loud enough to disturb the neighbors). 

I just plan to ignore him.  If he wants to act badly that's on him. 

If I can get online...might make you hungry

I'm feeling a little foggy today due to a nasty headache.  I guess I figure, if I can get online, it's not a migraine. 

I finally got my appetite back.  When I'm sick, my appetite is always the first to flee the scene, and the last to return.  My adoptive Mom could tell you all kinds of stories of me, sick in bed for days on end, refusing all food, and just when she thought I had to go to the hospital, I'd make a sudden recovery and eat everything. 

Interestingly enough, when I am really sick (I had 2 bad sinus infections in a 3 month period), my mood stabilizes.  I don't go up or down until I'm better - a nice little gift from God. 

When I was a kid, I had some favorite foods.  I adored macaroni and cheese, and could have eaten it every night.  I liked Spam (not so much, these days), peanut butter and honey sandwiches (still do, especially on the bread with the nuts and seeds in it), grilled cheese, ham, tomato soup, and fried bologna sandwiches. 

What do I like these days?  Well, I love a lot of dairy: a vanilla whey protien shake with whole milk and a couple of ice cubes in the blender, Cabot Extra Sharp cheddar cheese (adore it and always have some on hand), large curd cottage cheese, and when I'm off plan, ice cream. 

I really do need to eat. 

I also love Chappel Hill link sausage, cut up and fried in the skillet until it's nice and crunchy.  Ham (still), dark meat turkey, and turkey spam.  I love pretty much any kind of beef, but one favorites is ground beef fried up with some taco seasonings, with tomato sauce and shredded cheddar.  If you took me out to dinner, I would love a steak, would secretly covet the largest one, but would get a medium sized one instead.   I like my homemade tuna salad, in a bowl. It's just dill relish, lemon pepper, mayo, and tuna. 

For vegetables, I like canned green beans, not fresh.  I adore veggie soup and could probably eat it every day.  However, the commercial kinds tend to have added sugar.  I'll eat frozen collard greens with a little olive oil and lemon pepper on top, steamed in the microwave.  I like a salad with bitter greens, but usually get the bland kind because Ron hates them. I like a good italian or ranch, with a light touch, some bacon and maybe grated cheese on top. 

[I have found out, to my sorrow, I cannot add cooked chicken to the above creation and then take my lithium.  I get violently sick.] 

I have to be in the right mood for eggs, but will almost always eat them if I'm eating out around breakfast time.  I prefer them fried hard in butter, or hard-boiled.  I was sick for weeks with salmonella in 2004 and I'm careful.   I nearly always eat a sausage patty for breakfast.  I microwave it and eat it when it cools off.  I like it a little crunchy around the edges. 

For snack foods, I love jerky sticks and sausage sticks in the individual sized plastic wrapper.  They're hard to find, though.  I'll also eat the rare can of plain vienna sausage if I'm hungry enough. 

Since I'm low carb, let's talk about my favorite fats.  I love coconut oil and butter; olive oil for veggies and maybe salad, and a little lard sometimes for cooking in my iron skillet.   I have to think bacon counts more as a dietary fat, than an actual food.  Real, thick cut, pepper bacon.  Wrights is a good brand. 

That's it for today.  Sorry I wasn't more profound. 

Reasonable Accomodations

Heather, you may ask, what are you talking about?  Well, I could give you the legal definition but I'll give some examples. 

I have a TV show; and I offer closed captioning.  I build a one story home with no steps and wide doorways.  I manage a pharmacy, and educate my employees that the wierd lady with the brain fog is on some very potent antipsychotics.  My restaurant offers braille menus (and I love you so for that!); and, as I build the sidewalk, I put curb cuts so someone in a wheelchair can cross the street. 

In my case, reasonable accomodations run a little unusual.  For instance, my lithium causes a mild hand tremor.  I can't eat "normally" when I'm having a bad day; I have to hold the utensil in a clenched fist as opposed to delicately balanced between my index and middle finger.  If "table manners" and "eating properly" matter greatly, we'd better not have lunch.  Especially if Ron's coming. 

Due to my learning disability, I "have" to watch TV with the captioning on.  I can't process it otherwise.  It's like people jabbering in another language, I only get a few words out of 20.  I imagine some people might find the scrolling letters annoying, but I adore them.  God bless closed captioning.  I even wrote a fan letter to Captionmax. 

I also need a lot more rest than the average person.  When I went out for a family wedding, I didn't make that clear.  I just assumed, since I talked about getting a nap every day and "needing a lot of sleep" it would be understood - those needs would continue.  I can't things on hold for "a special occasion". 

Instead, my family, God love them, just treated me as they would a "normal" person.  "We're too busy for a nap today, we have too many things to do to get a lot of sleep."  I understand that and I never complained, in spite of 6 hour "sleeps" every night and no naps.   When I got home, however, I cycled into a depression and had to sleep 15 hours a day, for a week, to catch up on my rest. 

Next time I know I will need to be a LOT more assertive.  "Just so we're clear, I will need to rest 2 hours every afternoon, and get at least 9 hours of sleep every night.  Can you assure me that'll happen?" 

I'm not normal.  I am disabled.  I need reasonable accomodations and I'm not sorry for it.  I only know life in this brain and it requires a lot of "charging". 

That said, surprisingly to me, my parents are very understanding. 

I think they figured "Ron" would need all the rest and downtime, and he does.  So do I.  So, when we went on the family reunion cruise they expected me to take a nap every day, and go to bed early every night.  When they come out to visit, it's the same thing. 

So, what does Ron need?  I think the most important isn't sleep or even any guidelines on how to deal with "the blind", but, rather, an understanding he has a broken filter.  He will say anything that comes to mind, anything.  A lady at Walmart almost smacked him today.  Her child was misbehaving and screaming at earsplitting volume.  Ron shouted "Gallate" which is a very rude term for "Shut up!"  I was already headed out the door when Ron rethought what he said and said "Heather, maybe you better come back and say 'My husband has a head injury' in Spanish." 

Yes, I know how to say "My husband has a head injury" in Espanol.  "Lo siento, mi esposo tiene la cabeeza lastimada."  Then they go AHHH. 

Yup.  Never a dull moment.  I need to teach him to change the verb tense to "tengo" and he can say it for himself. 

Tax Free Weekend

I didn't get enough sleep last night.  I woke up pretty depressed. 

Ron and I went to Walmart, Tax Free Weekend.  I wanted t-shirts, and socks.  I have plenty of everything else. 

I just couldn't find what I wanted, some cute black or colored pocket-t's.  I guess the store sold out yesterday.  They did have a good deal on the white t-shirts, which I put aside for further consideration. 

I found the socks I wanted, and got 2 packets, enough to last me a couple weeks, not counting what I already have.  I guess maybe the shopping, morning pills, or quality time with Ron (we had the special cart where he can sit) got me a little manic.  I decided to make my own, tie-dyed t-shirts.  They didn't have white pocket white, but that's OK.  I got the shirts, they had plenty, and then went looking for fabric dyes. 

"My" Walmart has a modest little craft section.  I was able to find an assortment.  I got the blues.  I liked all 3 of the colors.  Like I told Ron, this will be a nice project when I'm manic.  The dye about equals my quantity of shirts.  I don't need to buy every dye and shirt in the world to make a few shirts for myself. 

For years, I had a navy and turquoise tie-dyed t-shirt.  I loved that thing.  It wasn't exactly slimming but it was fun to wear. 

I wear men's pocket t's at work, because they are more modest.  They have a higher neckline, and a lower hemline.  I got tired of "woman" shirts pullling up above my waist when I did lifting.  Not to mention the necklines and my bigger chest were getting a LOT of attention. 

That's not what I want, so I went to the Men's Department.  Now, overall I am very happy.  The shirts are good quality and they have some nice selections.  However, the colors are pretty drab. 

It will be nice to perk things up. 

Ron wanted to buy me a treat, so I got some iced tea powder and some dip.  He got cat treats. 

Boy, Baby Girl was thrilled to see the 10 ounce bag of cat treats, as I put them away.  She's a funny girl. 

I believe God sent Baby Girl to help balance me when I'm depressed.  She is also a huge comfort to Ron.  We've been having a lot of fun playing "Chase the laser pointer". 

The cat needs to play every day, even if I don't "feel" like it.  So I start, and then I feel better when I have. 

We had good rides because we went VERY early, we got home by 8:30.  Ron suggested I take a nap, because I didn't sleep well.  I did that. 

I slept a long time, got up at 1.  Really depressed.  I've done what I can to take care of myself/us/cats.  It's just a battle. 

I am so ready for God to come and get me. 

I talk about my weight.

The only functional crackhead

"I was the only functional crackhead in Houston" he told me.  He is self employed, in a service profession (I met him years ago).  "I used to work a 12 hour day, stop by the dealer, get my supply, go home, and smoke it for hours.  I'd get a couple hours of sleep and then go out and work again." 

He continued, other than a home and a job, his life was empty.  His wife was long gone.  He knew he needed help and begged God to take the addiction. 

"Jack" (not real name) "Stop buying it".  Jack didn't like that and continued in his usual pattern, still begging God for help.  "Jack, STOP BUYING IT." 

Jack thought about it.  Yeah, withdrawal would suck, but the God of the universe could help him through that.  So, he went straight home.  He was up all night, waiting for the cravings... and went to sleep. 

He woke up the next day, refreshed and more energized than he had been in years.  He never had any more desire for crack. 

He's still working and sharing his testimony.  God let me know it was time to share it with you. 

Pop ups

Most of the time, I can tell if something's going to be a problem. 

For instance, when I got mugged at the bus stop I had a pretty good idea bus stops might be a little raw in the future.  It was the same when the house was robbed, "coming home" didn't quite mean the same thing. 

But who would have guessed I'd have trouble with the song "Hiding Place"?  I sang it in the car on the way to the hospital.  Everytime I hear it I start sobbing.  http://youtu.be/ElVC6rfX3Z8

I was "into" aromatherapy about the time of Ron's accident.  I made a lavender/aloe burn gel for our employees (put a couple drops lavender essential oil into about 8-12 ounces gel).  They loved it and asked for personal use bottles.  I was happy to make it. 

I also provided "the girls" with a bottle of lemon essential oil - they loved it.  They found it invigorating and calming, taking "sniff breaks" in the hall instead of smoking. 

I liked my rosemary peppermint oil, and the peppermint oil.  I found them invigorating and mind-clearing, two things I desperately needed.  I was working 80 hour weeks and took all the help I could get. 

As Ron lingered in his coma, I got desperate, and got permission.  Permission for what?  Aromatherapy.  I moistened a hankie with a few drops of rosemary-peppermint oil, and laid it near Ron's head. 

It really made the room fresh, but some of the nurses hated it and complained bitterly.  When one "accidentally sent it off with the dirty linens" I got the message, and started using the peppermint oil. 

Everyone loved it, it stayed, and Ron seemed to respond a little better.  I was delighted, and kept using it, little realizing I would forever associate the scent of peppermint oil with hopelessness, anxiety, and despair.  I can't even drink mint tea. 

Ron had no idea I had done it, and the staff didn't mind.  I'm sure the fragrances made a nice change from the usual odors. 

I wonder if anyone else ever tried aromatherapy for "their" coma patient. 

I hope no one ever uses it on me. 

Torbie's forfeit.

Sing along with me:  I'm waiting on my num-bers.  Waiting on my num-bers... so I can file the online accounting report! 

My modem has been very irritable.  It seems to be working now so I don't dare log off until the report is done. 

I slept great last night, Torbie is figuring out how to sleep with me.  She doesn't get squashed and I have room to adjust.  Baby Girl slept on my pelvis during my nap. 

Did I mention I have to urinate a lot?  Have you seen that commercial, more than 8 times a day, get help?  Well, for me it's like once an hour when I'm awake.  It's the meds. 

So, an 8 pound semi-kitten lying on my bladder got pretty uncomfortable.  Not to mention I couldn't adjust my position and I started cramping.  But I asked her to move and she did, then laid down near me when I got back. 

Cats are smart, a lot smarter than we credit. 

So, I got up, did my God Time and shower, etc.  We went to Walmart.  I made a very small deposit and got some more food. 

Ron is finally requesting, and drinking, his protein shakes again.  Good, he needs them.  We were out of powder so I bought more.  I was delighted to find a bottle of grapeseed oil. 

I am on an essential oils kick (each mania has a theme, basically) and plan to put the essential oils into the oil, and use it as a moisturizer.  Now I have a nice big bottle for a lot less than I'd spent on line, a larger amount, and no shipping charge. 

We got some McDonald's lunches, which we turned into bunless hamburgers and side salads.  They were pretty good.  I took my pills, and my nap. 

Torbie is really smart, when she sees me setting my alarm she meows and gets into bed.  We had a nice cuddle.  Then Baby Girl thought that looked interesting and got into bed. 

Torbie decided to forfeit, and left to get on the printer.   I got up, got Ron up, and we went to the pet store for more cat food. 

They like the Blue Chicken flavor, dry food.  It isn't cheap but they really relish it.  They are very healthy on it too. 

Older cats eating grains tend to vomit a lot.  At least in my house.  Maybe it's seeing me naked.  I got tired of cleaning it up.  I got tired of rolling over in bed and putting my foot into a puddle of cold vomit.  I got tired of Ron slipping and falling in the vomit, on the tile floor (boy that was a mess). 

It's a lot easier to spend a little for a quality grain free cat food.  I ensure they don't get hairballs by feeding the Oh No Hairball treats.  I give the girls a few every day.  They love them. 

And I don't have to clean any vomit. 

Where is my mania?

What the hell happened to my mania? 

I feel depressed, raw, hopeless, and enervated.  To top it off, I had one of my PTSD nightmares, this one featuring Ron's family; they are very similar to my other dreams, only the cast changes. 

After that, you'd think my day was dreadful.  It wasn't.  I got up, went to the warehouse, got my snack inventory and stocked it.  Two of our soda machines had burned out lightbulbs.  We got that fixed.  All the machines look great and my customers seem very interested in my new whole wheat cracker lineup. 

We came home, and had a good ride home with a Muslim guy from Pakistan.  He was a really nice guy, and told me that he tends to gain weight during Ramadan.  They can't eat or drink during the day, but when they do, they do!  I thought that was interesting. 

When he first got to America, he used to watch Jerry Springer.  He was pretty horrified.  I can only imagine.  In his country an unfaithful wife is stoned, it's a shameful secret - not paraded on television. 

I came home and had my depression meal of hot dogs and cut up cheese.  I will have to see how that calculates in Fitday.  I took my meds, stayed up for a little bit, and took my nap. 

Torbie got into my bed (she is the older, orange and brown tabby/tortishell mix female I got from the pound this year), and we had a good cuddle for the entire nap.  I had a PTSD nightmare about Ron's family - pretty horrible. 

When I got up I sat in my chair and turned on the TV, drinking a cold beverage.  Torbie came over by my chair and meowed for permission, so I moved my arms and patted my lap, encouraging her.  I got a bonus cuddle for a good half hour.  I gave her a few treats (I always keep cat treats by all the chairs in my house) when I had to get up, luring her onto the loveseat before I moved. 

Then I did my God Time (yeah, it was that kind of morning, but at least I got in the shower, I just slept horribly), and got online (notice the sequence!). 

Now I'm off to have a little fun before I have to go to bed again. 

Food safety hell

I'm more mixed/depressed today.  The purchases I considered with such glee, yesterday, are all dull and tarnished (no I didn't buy them, but even the thought is depressing). 

We got up early, I didn't do my God time, we went to work.  Ron had been worried about Baby Girl, said she was a little sluggish yesterday, but she was bugging him for treats last night and acting like her usual sweet self. 

I had another good sleep with Torbie, although she likes to sleep in the middle of the bed, making it hard to roll over.  She's got a petite frame with a lot of muscle and fat.   She makes a big lump. 

We got to work, things are selling pretty well, except for the soda machine with the burned out bulb.  Since we got the machine from Dr Pepper, they have the bulbs.  They'll send out their guy to replace it (and probably audit our product selection to ensure we are selling primarily Dr Pepper products as per our contract).  I made a mental inventory list. 

For instance, the hot chip selection is the first to sell out.  They love them.  So, I'll be getting more.  I need pastries, too. 

I hadn't told Ron get because he can get rather grumpy about buying inventory.  However, a customer shouted at him over the lack of honeybuns, so he is motivated now. 

We had a lot to do, including my sandwich delivery.  I was so thrilled to see Mark was back!  He is my favorite deliveryman.  He is very quiet but extremely nice.  I like him a lot.  He had been out sick for months. 

He was right on time, too.  I got the sandwiches and stocked everything.  Ron "lost" a case of soda, but eventually found it.  A pretty typical day at work. 

We went to Greenspoint mall for lunch.  It isn't far from work, and they have some good food places in the foodcourt. 

Ron has his food handler's permit.  I helped him study, so I know all the rules.  Imagine our horror when we discovered the bathrooms were closed due to a water main break!   "Main" water break, per the sign! 

My stomach lurched as I looked at about half the restaurants, happily preparing for the lunch rush, with no water.  One of them was a place Ron liked, and I had eaten a few times.  The other two places were not of interest, but UGH. 

Since you may have just eaten, or about to eat, I will not spell it out for you.  Why is this is bad?  I will put up a link if you are wondering "Why is it a big deal if a restaurant doesn't have running water?"    Here you go:  Why you need running water

I thought, in desperation, maybe it was just the bathrooms.  I went to a water fountain a ways from the bathroom.  Dry as a bone. 

It was a very hot day today.  Blazing sun.  Humid.  High heat index.  But I pushed Ron at least half a mile to the Taco Bell (the one with running water) to get away from that food safety nightmare. 

I will share this: with the water down, the Wendy's and the Subway remained closed.  Hats off to them.  I was hoping to eat at Wendy's, now I feel safe doing so next time. 

If you don't know, I almost died of food poisoning at a chain restaurant, back in 2004.  I was very sick, so sick Ron had to take care of me. 

I made sure the Taco Bell had running water before we ordered.  I got a chicken soft taco and ate the insides.  I also got a taco salad and ate the non-carby things.  I still feel pretty full, surprisingly. 

After we finished, I pushed him back to the mall.  We had to catch our ride from that address.  We had a good ride home, but the driver was feeling a little traumatized. 

Her last client had been way too TMI about her past, present, and future sex life.  I think she's going to need therapy. 

After all that "pushing" while carrying my backpack in the heat, I was pretty tired (I had already taken my meds) so I took a nap.  Both cats slept with me at different times, which was delightful. 

I love to sleep with a cat.  I also noted I only needed about an hour as opposed to my usual 2-3. 

Don't play with demons

First, a little light humor: 

Apparently this is an "offensive" image on Facebook.  Huh.  Let's hope Blogger is more reasonable. 

That's actually one of my primary jobs at work, taking care of the snack machines. 

So, I have been thinking about this for a while and decided to do it: 
There are no evil ghosts.  No haunted houses. 

"But Heather" you may reply "I've seen those shows on TV."  You think they can't be faked?  Just because they say they're out for the truth doesn't make them truthful.  I can say I am a lesbian.  People who know me will laugh hysterically, but when it's bedtime I'll be grabbing my husband. 

"What," you may ask "is behind all those stories I hear?"  People screwing with the occult.  The Bible is really clear on that, by the way. 

Leviticus 19:31
Give no regard to mediums and familiar spirits; do not seek after them, to be defiled by them: I am the Lord your God.

Leviticus 20:6
‘And the person who turns to mediums and familiar spirits, to prostitute himself with them, I will set My face against that person and cut him off from his people.

You get the idea.  So, if you are consulting demons (that's what they are, although they can play nice at first, I hear), you will get a demonic boatload of trouble.  HOWEVER The God of the universe is a lot stronger than the demons. 

Don't play with demons.  I don't even watch anything with a "psychic" in it, either. 

Taking my body back.

My internet is acting up right now so I thought I'd type this out in my text editor.  When I get it working again, I can copy and paste. 

Ron and I have had a pretty good time the last week or so.  He's been a huge help with me, helping me run my errands and get the things I need for my new diet.  We even had a couple of little "dates" at very affordable, low-carbable places. 

Today, though, I saw a scar that reminded me of something that happened when I was 12.  Suffice to say I was attacked.  I defended myself to the best of my ability, but attacked again, leaving me with a very nasty bite wound. 

It's on my upper chest, and when I look at myself in the mirror, naked, in the morning I always see it.   It's a couple inches below my collarbone, on my chest, a few inches above my (traditional) bra line.

It's a horrible reminder of a lot of things.  How I was punished for defending myself, denied medical care, and called a "faker" by someone who should have looked out for me. 

Really, if I have an iconic symbol of everything bad about 5-18, the scar is it.   When I'm depressed, I avoid my reflection in the mirror.  I just look at my teeth and hair.  When I'm manic, I look at myself I assume the way a "normal" person would.   Nearly every time I see the scar I get "triggered". 

Ron and I came to the same conclusion, separately.  Why not cover or surround the scar with a pretty tattoo, something floral, "taking my body back"? 

The scar says I was a victim a couple times over, by my attacker, and then by the people I trusted to help.   A new "mark" will remind me I am an overcomer. 

I'm still thinking about it, but 80% sure I will do this. 

I mention vienna sausage 4 times

I declined a lizard head, and ran away from a brownie display. 

Yesterday was pretty busy, we ran to two grocery stores, one for meat, one for vegetables (the meat store does not use chemicals in the meat and they will custom pack, for very low prices; the vegetable store has really good quality vegetables but the meat in the carbon dioxide packaging). 

We also took Ron to the doctor.  I told the doctor I believe his legs are slow to heal due to a low protien intake.  "Ron thinks a bag of peanuts is a good dinner".  Doc lectured him on proper nutrition, and I got Ron to agree to drink some protein shakes (his protein intake is abysmal, which of course leads to poor wound healing). 

I didn't even get a nap and went to bed exhausted.  I slept pretty well. 

Torbie has been getting into my bed in the middle of the night and sleeping with me.  I always like that.  She stretches out for hours, then gets up and leaves a few hours before I get up. 

I'm manic.  I feel pressured, driven to talk and spend.  I have a hard time keeping my thoughts straight, and this is medicated.  Wow. 

A lot of "civilians" think I just need to take "the right thing or the right dose" and I will have no symptoms.  There's a word for that... WRONG.  Everything I have read, and my own doctor with over 40 years' clinical experience, say "We can take the edge off the highs and lows, but you will still cycle".  "We" got rid of the suicidal, and the mixed.   "We" turned the volume way down on my manias and depressions.  I can live with what's left. 

So, back to my life: I slept well and got up on time.  I did hit the snooze a few times but I'm OK with that. 

I did my God Time later; I had to finish the laundry while the house was cool.  Ron does not want me running the dryer when it's hot, which is pretty much anytime I'm awake.  I got the clothes out and hung, made sure Ron looked OK, and ready to go. 

I'd already had my shower and all.  Not a problem when I'm manic. 

So, I packed a lunch because we had a long day, and made sure I had a couple cans of vienna sausage.  I don't love them, but they are filling - essentially meat in a can, and full of sodium, which I need taking lithium. 

Huh.  Baby Girl was lying near me for hours, but when I started playing Queen she left.  Funny girl. 

So.  First, we went to work.  We had a lot of stuff, a wheelchair, and a backpack.  We got all that loaded and off we went. 

We got everything stocked and made sure the machines looked really good, then off to our next ride; 1900 Main - Metro Headquarters.  They are the headquarters for Metro-everything, Metrolift, Metro Bus, etc. 

We can only buy the yearly pass at the "ridestore".  We had good rides to and from. 

I did get a little drooly when I saw a waffle truck at the college campus.  It looked really good.  It was a foodservice truck that sold waffles (U of H campus, the main one).   Ron and I took turns telling each other what disgusting things were on, and in, the waffles (no one else could hear us).  It worked. 

It always takes forever to get the yearly pass.  Nothing different today.  The first one "didn't work".  Hm. 

After we finished I put Ron in the lobby, which is crawling with customer service people.  I think they do it to keep the "bums" out, a lot of scary homeless in that area downtown.  The Metro "helpers" keep them run off. 

I had a look at the deli and literally ran out after seeing a huge display of brownies, and NOTHING low carb.  Baby Girl brought me a lizard head this morning, but I told her no thanks and she ate it.  I'd rather eat a lizard head than a brownie right about now. 

I am planning a "less than 100 g carbs" cheat day once every two months, which will line up nicely with my birthday.  Will I do it?  Probably not.  But I can at least have the option and tell myself that when I'm tempted "between". 

I ended up eating my greek yogurt (I'd already had some vienna sausage at work), a cheese stick, and one of those little cans of V8 I'd bought at the grocery store.  I felt very virtuous.  I had some pork rinds and other food, but that's all I wanted. 

I've realized, I eat a lot, sitting in front of the TV, because I see food on TV and I'm bored.  I'm only, actually, eating when I'm hungry and I am ignoring some hunger pains until they get loud (enough that a can of vienna sausage sounds really good). 

I am down 8 pounds, in about a week.  That's pretty good. 

But I'm going to need some more vienna sausage.