Simple

Some days I'm pretty dry, nothing to write, especially when depressed. 

Other days I have a couple of issues poking at me. 

A friend of mine was discussing Lordship Salvation... and I didn't follow it.  I just believe in Jesus, pray, and read my Bible.  I can do that alone or among others.  I don't make it complicated. 

At the bottom of the thread, which had gone on for a while, a woman was proclaiming she had 2 degrees and could not figuure out the Bible for herself.  She had to be taught how to understand and interpret the Bible for herself. 

I don't often feel the Holy Spirit making a lot of noise in my life, generally directives to shut up, be nice, and pray.  Upon reading that I had alarm bells going off in my soul. 

I have always felt that God honors a simple faith.  Every cult I have encountered (ones perverting the Bible) have always said "Oh, you need someone to help you understand this." 

I quoted James 1:5 at a JW, not long ago.  She had never heard the verse: 

James 1:5

New King James Version (NKJV)

⁵ If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him.

So, why do I need help?  Isn't it clear God will instruct me, Himself?  Of course I go to church.  My pastor teaches from the Bible but he doesn't add or take anything away. 

Years ago, I was given a Bible.  The commentary takes up more space than the actual Bible.  The commentary, to phrase it differently, outweighs the Bible.  I don't credit those teachings, especially after some online research, so I have shelved it. 

Do I hate commentary?  No.  I read a Chronological Daily Bible, and a Daily Bible, every day.  They have a minor amount of commentary vs. Scripture.  They clearly present it as their opinions and not the WORD OF THE LORD.  I wouldn't mind a NKJV Life Application Bible, but if you're going to spend that on me I'd rather have Handout Bibles. 

I have always felt it's best to run, if someone is putting their interpretation of Scripture, over scripture.  Even the KJV gang - I don't hand them out.  If you want a Bible, I have a Holman Christian Standard Bible.  I have a Children's Bible.  I have a Spanish Bible.  I have a NKJV Bible.  They are free, which one would you like?  Usually they take one home and read it. 

For the ones who object, I tell them "Go to the Dollar Store and buy me some, and I'll hand them out for you."  That always shuts them up.  I only had to do that once or twice.  One time I told the guy I would hand out MY Bibles on MY corner.  He could hand out HIS Bibles on THAT corner. 

I never saw him again. 

I believe God cherishes a simple faith; someone who believes, simply, trusting in God to direct them and lead them through life. 

Psalm 19:7

The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul; The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple

 

Psalm 116:6

The Lord preserves the simple; I was brought low, and He saved me.

 

Psalm 119:130

The entrance of Your words gives light; It gives understanding to the simple.

 

It seems pretty clear to me. 

 

I used to wonder why I never got into the debates over what I always saw as insignificant details; but God has led me to understand that my faith is a valuable gem, I should guard it. 

 

I will. 

 

Carry on?

So, good question: What's happening at work? 

Hell if I know. 

Our State Liason (I think I spelled that wrong) says "I told them we must get 2 week's notice before moving your machines.  They will let us know.  Carry on with the vending." 

That's it.  Ron called the work manager responsible for our move - "Call your state guy". 

Needless to say, I have not been eating on plan lately. 

I also cycled depressed but I know that has nothing to do with work.  I was due. 

So, I've been praying a lot, taking my vitamins and medication, and trying to get enough sleep.  I plan to do some writing tomorrow in Broken. 

Ron and I got some inventory for work, we will be stocking that tomorrow.  I get the sandwich delivery.  We figure out our "Galaxy" order. 

I'm also planning my next handout.  People were pleading for Bibles after I had given them all away. 

Any cat

Well, that was fun.  One of the companies in the "things I like" post left a comment.   

Now I want some cheese! 

I was thinking today. 

I used to have a favorite type of cat.  Now I don't. 

My first cat was a tabby and white.  Then I had an orange and white tabby, longhair.  A grey and white male.  A diluted calico, a black cat (he was a foster). 

Then we moved to Texas and met a lovely brown tabby.  He lived next door, but came over to visit.  Another move and I met a sweet black and white who gave me her solid gray, and solid black kittens. 

Another move, the kittens came with.  I got them fixed, back when you could do it cheaply.  I had a male (black) and a female (gray).  Shadow, the gray, was more Ron's cat.  She was so happy when he came home from the hospital.  He didn't even know the word for "cat" but he'd call her "Old Gray". 

Midi (short for Midnight) was a criminal thug who stole Ron's fried chicken as he ate it, back when he only had one working arm.  I loved him anyway.   He was a glutton who once ate 4 cans of cat food, then staggered to the door, meowing pitifully to go out. 

Midi died.  Then Shadow died of breast cancer.  I had asked someone to feed them when Ron was in the hospital, a period of months, but he didn't give them water.  I believe they drank out of our very polluted bayou. 

Then I met Bubba, the offspring, I believe, of Midi.  I always loved him.  Passionately.  He was solid black with beautiful green eyes.  He had a little coaxing to get Ron to get on board with adoption, and off we went to the neuter clinic. 

Bubba was OK with being neutered.  He had a good life and lived like a king, not one, but 3 people petting him as he died.  He died of old age and heart failure, he was pretty fat. 

I'd had Bubba for about 2 years when he brought me an all white male, elderly cat.  The poor thing ran away from me, when I had tuna in my hand.  The cat, starving, his fur falling out, took some coaxing but Bubba kept letting him know we were cool.  Frosty finally took a chance on us, got neutered, and became a wonderful cuddle cat. 

He spent hours in my lap every day, and slept with me at night.  He enjoyed Ron, too.  I have some nice photos of Frosty sleeping on Ron, in the sidebar.  Frosty was very old to begin with and he died about 5 years later.  Good years.  Worth every tear. 

Bubba was the only cat for years, until last year.  Ron heard something mewling in the bushes.  He asked me to help it; a tiny brown tabby kitten.  I gave her a good meal under Ron's chair, as he sat in it. 

"I want to pet it!" he whined.  I knew we'd be adopting her.  We got her fixed, shots,  etc.  Ear mites done. 

We had a solid black cat, and a brown spotted tabby, for about a year.  Bubba died and I was chosen by Torbie, at the shelter.  Torbie is a brown and orange tortiseshell tabby, also known as a "Torbie", hence, her name.  She appears mostly brown, and the girls absolutely look related.  People tend to view Torbie as the "Mom" cat, which is funny, since she is older. 

I saw an adorable brown tabby on facebook, and thought, "I love brown tabbies now".  Then I realized I love any cat, because God made them so well. 

Things I like

It's time for another episode of things I like.  I don't do advertising, but now and then I like to talk about things I like. 

I don't get any money; I just feel it's worthwhile to toot the horn. 

Closest to my computer, we have the Renuzit pumpkin latte air freshener.  Cost, 97 cents. 

I have a cat nearby.  Boy, my girls LOVE their Blue Wilderness Chicken flavor cat food.  Ron's in charge of feeding them and boy they come running. 

Comcast - they've been good to me.  The tech was incredibly nice about installing the internet.  I just get online.  Cable works great, too.  The bundle is still a lot cheaper than getting our services seperately from the other guys, one of whom literally made me cry when talking to tech support. 

I found a reciept today: Cabot White, $8.87.  It took me a while to figure out it was my beloved Cabot Extra Sharp White Cheddar Cheese.  It is so delicious.  I go through pounds a month. 

Stainless steel, titanium, and tungsten rings.  They are incredibly durable, pretty, and inexpensive.  I have bought a few on Amazon. 

No problems with Amazon, either.  When I buy music I get it from them.  I also have a basic model Kindle and buy books from them, too. 

Shout Gel.  Ron and I are messy.  We stain our clothes, but the gel works great.  I pretreat, leave it until washtime, and when I pull it out the stain is all gone.  It has worked for literally every stain I've met. 

Imagine a household of two.  It's laundry time.  You've got white socks, colored underwear, tie-dyed t-shirts, black t-shirts, and a pair of jeans.  I can wash it all together with the Shout Color Catchers.  Those things rock.  My socks come out nice and white.  The catcher sheet is filthy.  They aren't cheap but it's a lot cheaper than running a bunch of separate loads.  When I run out, I'll be buying more. 

I also like the Arm and Hammer, and the Tide "packages" of detergent, to be thrown in the washer.  Both brands work nicely and have a nice light fragrance. 

Arm & Hammer litter box powder.  I put some in when I scoop (every day).

The Hanes, men's, pocket t-shirts in black worked well for me today.  I put away half a pallet of soda and didn't think about my shirt.  It covered me nicely and breathes. 

That's it for now. 

Leave a message

Huh.  Somewhere along the line I passed 2 thousand posts. 

Recently, a woman left a comment asking me to email her.  I don't do that. 

However, if you leave a comment, let me know it is PRIVATE, I will read it and delete it, then address the issue in a post.  You'll maintain your privacy. 

If it is OBVIOUS cult or alternate religious theories, I will delete it.  I do post some comments from those I consider "seekers" if I feel God wants me to do so. 

I tend to get mostly faith issues, and, I think, a few as regard mental illness.  More than one person can read those replies.  I publish those comments unless told not to, or they have very personal information I assume the writer does not want shared. 

As I told Ron, though, you've got the writers, and the readers, on the internet.  Most people are readers.  I'm a writer. 

Do I think I'm "all that"?  No.  God is always working on my pride issues.  If you find me interesting great, and keep reading.  If you think I'm being an "idjit" feel free to leave me a message. 

I'm praying for you everyday; and I always want you to know that. 

Pharma whore

Medication, I was told recently, is a scam for (big pharmaceutical companies) to addict people with so-called "mental illness". 

I was told that people with mental illness are often just "toxic" and need a good cleanse, the right vitamins.  Perhaps an elimination diet. 

But, the speaker allowed, she guessed it was OK for me to take my medications, having all those nasty psychotic epsisodes and all. 

The only thing that smokes me more than being told I don't need medication, is someone "allowing" me to take it.  I find both infuriating. 

I went nuclear when she told me her son had "been diagnosed bipolar" but she had taken him off his meds.  She told me he was "fine". 

She had shared some information a while back that indicated quite the opposite, but I felt God did not want me to throw it at her.  I didn't. 

Where, oh, where, do I start? 

Well, I don't have kids.  I only have a few cats, but I have a theory. 

It is stigmatizing to have a disabled child.  Parents are judged and told perhaps they didn't do everything right.  In the case of my birthmother, you are correct.  She didn't care for her fetus, so I was born disabled. 

But mental illness is a mutation; most often. Sometimes it's genetic but sometimes it's spontaneous.  No fault illness. 

Try to tell that to some people; and I know why so many hide their illness.  Some people can be vicious, telling you you're an addict, weak, unspiritual (I get that a lot), overloaded with toxic chemicals, and in need of very expensive vitamins to "purify" you. 

Others just look down at me, and I always feel a little relieved they've dismissed me.  Imagine you know people like that, or, God forbid, have them in your family. 

They always view any kind of severe mental illness as a parental deficiency, a character flaw, or spiritual weakness. Perhaps all 3.   Now your child has a diagnosis. 

You know, if you give your child medication, the truth will out eventually.  You'll get judged and condemned for being a "bad parent".  Everyone will tell you you're doing it wrong, you're a big pharma whore, and you're ruining your child's life. 

Or, someone comes along and says you don't need medication.  Just try this vitamin, and do a good cleanse.  Your child will be fine.  Maybe, they add, he has a gluten issue. 

Mental illness does go into remission on occasion, so perhaps remission occurs as you begin the new routine.  You really think it works. 

Fast forward a few decades: everyone I know, unmedicated, with mental illness, is a wreck.  Nearly all of them are alcoholic.  Their lives are chaos. 

One took a bottle of sleeping pills as she drank a bottle of wine.  She had assured me that she was *better* than me and could control her illness solely through diet.  After the incident, I encouraged her to rethink medication.  I can't repeat her response. 

I've known a couple parents who were inconsistent with the medication, taking them on and off at whim, then complaining that it didn't work.  "Tell the doctor what you're doing" I always advised.  "So they know it's your fault and not the medication" I thought privately.  They stopped conferring with me after that; I believe they wanted me to endorse their behavior and I won't. 

I know people think I lean towards medication; but here's the thing - they don't have my experience.  The worst thing they've endured is a mild depression, job loss, or perhaps the death of a pet.  They've never laid in bed suicidal, haunted by things that aren't there.  They have no concept what I endure or how much it's improved on my medication. 

When it comes to "crazy" - I'm the expert. 

So, I ended, if it's a mild issue like some mild ADD or a moderate depression, use whatever modality you think will work.  But when it comes to the hardcore stuff; bring out the drugs. 

Hardcore: schitzophrenia, bipolar, moderate to severe depression. 

If that makes me a big pharma whore, so be it. 

I'm going back!

I'm going to talk about a dirty little secret in evangelism: discouragement.

Unlike people who put on crusades or do altar calls, I have no idea if my work has borne any fruit. Rarely someone will tell me I already gave them a Bible. Usually they are smiling, and I tell them I will continue to pray for them daily. They say thank you. That's it.

So, sometimes I wonder if it's meaningful or just an exercise God uses to keep me humble and obedient.

Humble, you may ask? Yeah, like when the carload of guys waved me over, acting eager. I ran over with the Bibles and they put up the window, laughing at my disappointment.

Humble - like when the guy stopped his car dead in the intersection and said "I have to get a photo for Facebook". I felt very odd, but I smiled as he took the photo and posted it. I had an orange shirt, vest, and sign, so if you see it put up a link. I kind of felt like a zoo animal even though he was really nice.

Then I stood there and stood there and no one wanted a Bible. Ron had to change the pickup time. I really wondered it God even wanted me doing the handouts.

And it started, people backing up out of left turns, to get a Bible, because they changed their mind.

Gang members walking over, and wanting Bibles for their friends, too.

3 young men, about 12, walking down the sidewalk, stopped and gaped. I waved them over and smiled. They came over and I grinned as I gave them each a Bible.

I always tell the recipients I am praying for them daily, and I do. I see it as a sacred thing.

I had a woman wearing a very low cut top, showing most of her chest. She had a name tattoo across "the girls". She wanted a Bible, she got it.

It was great. I wasn't super busy but I could tell these were the RIGHT people; who would value and read their Bibles, who would smile as they thought of me praying for them.

God made them all. It didn't matter if they had gang 'tat's, broken teeth, no teeth, gold teeth. It doesn't matter what they may have done, God loves them and Jesus died for them.

I did have a problem.

After the handout people kept hunting me down and asking for Bibles! I had to tell them I was out, but I'd be back.

Boy, will I. Insane distribution today.

Please, please, pray for the recipients.

What is Jesus doing?

Well, I went off the diet wagon a bit today, but I'm back on it now.  Nerves. 

So, I thought I'd address something else.  Last night a friend was talking about "shining our lights in the world".  It sounded nice and Biblical. 

Then she went on to say that meant doing nice things without sharing Jesus.  I have issues with that. 

For instance, I know at least 3 people.  I witnessed to them, gave them Bibles, sharing my faith in every way possible.  They died.  One heart attack and two cancers. 

Two, I know were saved.  One I don't know.  But, if he is in hell, I know I did everything I could to keep him out.  That's what God wanted me to do. 

How?  Let me tell you, if I make a statement and can't back it up with the Bible, don't believe me.  Get the hell out. 

So:
Matthew 28:19 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 talking)

Matthew 4:23

[ Jesus Heals a Great Multitude ] And Jesus went about all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and healing all kinds of sickness and all kinds of disease among the people.

 

Matthew 9:35

[ The Compassion of Jesus ] Then Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and healing every sickness and every disease among the people.

 

In church, I sing "Make me like Jesus".  What is Jesus doing? 

Well, He probably isn't listening to "Crazy Train" as He types, but other than that...

 

Mark 1:15

and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel.”

 

I could do this all day.  So, here's some help.  Go to www.biblegateway.com and type in "Gospel" - you'll get at least 97 more links. 

 

God commands us to share the Gospel with everyone. 

 

How do I do that?  Clearly, I can't share the gospel with literally EVERY person.  So, I go as led by the Holy Spirit. 

 

First, probably, I'd say I spend time doing prayer and Bible study every day - serious time.  Before I turn on the television or computer, I get my God Time.  That way God can fill me up.  I can only share what God puts inside of me.

 

Whenever I feel led to share my testimony, a tract, or a Bible, I do so.  The recipient is always eager, because God has prepared them to get it. 

 

When God simply leads me to be kind to them, I do that.  Small acts of kindness may build up to testimony, a tract, or a Bible later, but in the meantime I try to "represent" Him as best I can. 

 

However, I NEVER substitute kindness for evangelism. 

 

In fact, I have a Bible Handout planned for tomorrow. 

 

 

NO news

No news today. 

I did hear Dr Pepper changed our delivery date.  We went ahead and made a modest order. 

Frosted

Last week, when I met "Larry" the manager, I had frizzy hair because I'd been too depressed to fix it.  This morning, I presented an even more authoritative image, with sugarfree chocolate frosting smeared on the right breast of my light-colored t-shirt.  [facepalm]  I didn't notice until I'd gotten to work. 

I brought some sugarfree devil's food cupcakes for the other vendor's diabetic employee.  I didn't want him to feel deprived as I handed out brownies, but I don't want to hurt him.  I tucked them in my pan with several chocolate peanut butter chip brownies. 

Apparently, not very well!  [laugh] 

So, we went to work.  I did an inventory, and boy I needed chips.  We stocked what we had and I gave away brownies to the other vendors and the "girls" in the credit union. 

I know things are tense at work.  The other vendor really disappointed me, making a few comments that really stuck. 

"I don't need to worry about money".  Well, that's nice.  But you don't need to shove it in my face.

"I will never allow you to put a vending machine in *my* area."  "His" area encompasses 95% of the building! 

Then we get to my favorite; he was talking to one of his employees "Wouldn't that be great if Ron went out of business?  We'd get so much more money!"  They were excited about it. 

I was completely revolted.  I mean, I kind of expected it.  I'm a "plan for the worst-case scenario" kind of girl.  I don't expect an easy outcome. 

It was a big disppointment to have my worst fears confirmed so easily. 

I like to think I am helpful to them. I get one of their deliveries every week.  I am always willing to help out. 

Do I think they "owe" us anything?  No. 

I'm not out to make myself a saint.  God saw it.  God knows every heart; including mine. 

I would have liked to hear something encouraging. 

However, the day got funny pretty fast.  I was kidding around with Ron, and he said "Where will they put our machines?" 

I started singing this:



as I opened the door and pulled his wheelchair out into the hall (we both had to go to the bathroom, so I took him).  I heard a chuckle and there's "Larry", smiling at us. 

He came by later and asked me some more questions about the machines.  I feel like he's on our side, he's going to do what he can to help. 

He didn't want a brownie, though. 

The credit union massacred them, instead.  "You should put them in the machines" Ron said, after eating one.  I wonder if they agree. 

Happy thoughts

I am a nervous eater. 

I was doing OK.  Until I made the sugarfree devil's food cake in the brownie pan.  I had a dozen, lovely, little sugarfree chocolate cakes, and that's before we get to the sugarfree icing. 

I didn't eat all of them, but I did eat 4 (12-5-1 for Ron).  I should have known the sugar alcohol would provoke a migraine. 

Somehow, I thought I was exempt. 

Am I going to flog myself, here?  No.  Just a statement of how I'm coping. 

Ron's grown an amazing faith.  I am really impressed.  I can honestly say this, if I met him today I would definitely be interested in dating him, and give him my phone number. 

So, I decided to focus on happy things. 

I'm going to assume the business will become far more profitable.  What would I do? 
1.  I'd replace that leaking kitchen faucet (I think the cabinets, counter, and sink are fine). 
2.  I'd buy a toilet with a better flush.  I get tired of plunging. 
3.  I'd paint the bedroom, and hang curtains over the open closet (I took the doors off for more storage). 
4.  Fix the cordless lawnmower. 

It would be nice to take some more trips to Galveston; spend a day or so enjoying the beach and return.  We like a very inexpensive motel. 

That's it for now.  I need to lie down again. 

Oh, and both my rings are here - I really like them. 

Squirrel

I wrote some new chapters in "Broken" if you're following.  Just remember to scroll down or you'll get spoilers. 

Ron has a lot of health problems. 

He is totally blind.
He is partly paralyzed on his right side. 
He has arthritis and allergies. 
He's diabetic (and I'm going to hell for giving him a bite of that brownie)
He has neuropathy in his torso, legs, and feet. 
He has very poor endurance for "walking" if you can call it that and requires the wheelchair for any travel over 100 feet. 

The worst, for both of us, is the hearing issue.  The last time he was tested he was about 50% deaf in each ear.  One ear was better for high frequencies, the other better for low.  He often points the "good" ear at me when I talk to him.  He turns the volume up on his cell phone. 

And he can never, ever, hear me if I speak to him from the other room.  I still try though, foolishly hoping one day he'll reply.  He always tells me he can't understand me. 

Today was a good example.  He was in the bathroom with the door open, about 15 feet away from where I do my God Time.  I told Ron "I found something interesting in Galatians."  He kept thinking I was talking about a Lincoln, not a Galatian. 

[Paul had vision troubles, which you can clearly see in Galations if you read it carefully.  In many of his other letters he talks about his poor handwriting, his letters are so large, etc.  He also dictated all his letters.] 

Ron could not hear me, even when I yelled.  He had to get up and walk into the room before he understood.  I felt really bad for him. 

I used to be, well, kind of a bitch about it.  I would get very annoyed every time Ron asked me to repeat myself and make a big production over telling him again. 

Then I read a horribly sad letter in Dear Abby one day.  I don't agree with the politics in the column now, so I don't read it, but this was a letter from an older man with a severe hearing loss.  He said his wife, friends, and children would only tell him something once, and refuse to repeat it because he never heard it the first time.  He said he was incredibly lonely and his only friends were his smaller grandchildren, who happily shouted everything they said and never minded repeating themselves. 

I realized I had not been a loving wife; so I have worked on the issue.  However, it is very frustrating to read something on the internet, want to share it, get up, walk in the other room (I should be thanking God I can do all of that) and tell him, then go back to my computer. 

Ron appreciates it.  In fact, I even call him "squirrel" as an endearment (I very seldom refer to Ron, as Ron, in person.  I use love names.). 

I detest squirrels - remember when they got in my attic last year - chewing on God knows what and freaking me out?  Ron couldn't hear them so I didn't know if I was hallucinating.   I finally got the rake and beat on the side of the house until it came out (praise God I was not bitten).  Then I got the animal guards and put them over my soffit vents so they couldn't get in again. 

Detest them.  "Rats with a furry tail" my aunt says. 

However, one day Ron cupped his hands (this was before the accident and the stroke), over his ears to hear me better, looking just like a squirrel.  I started referring to him as "Squirrel" as an endearment - letting him know "You may be blind and hearing impaired but I still love you". 

So, for us, the only real issue is the superblindman myth.  He can hear a pin drop from a mile away.  Everyone, and I mean everyone, thinks a blind person has super hearing.   Some do.  Some don't.  Just like you don't say "All White people..." you shouldn't say "All Blind people". 

I have to tell them "You need to yell at him."  or "He won't hear you."  They look at me in shock, because anyone could hear them from that distance. 

Anyone but Ron. 

Am I whining?  No.  I feel bad for him.  I am sorry he has so very many physical problems, and I applaud his choice to get sterilized.  His hearing loss is hereditary.  So is the blindness.  I wouldn't put those on our kids. 

Neither would Ron, and that's one reason I love him. 

 

Yike

Every day, Ron and I anxiously await news - will we have a business next month? 

Ron has exhibited an amazing peace and faith that blow me away.  He reassures me that God has it, we just need to be patient. 

I, however, have been running a little more anxious.  Especially when Ron, eating a brownie I'd baked, spit out a dental crown. 

Yike. 

The Tone

Autoplay just brought up "End of my Rope".  Good song. 

I have done pretty well with the stress today, only minor freaking out about the business. 

I didn't do so well on the ride home from Walmart, though.  I had gone to get a drink because Ron told me I had 10 minutes. 

When I got back to the cart a strange woman had picked up my they-don't-make-them-anymore tote bag by one strap, guaranteed to destroy the bag, and had one of my other bags in her other hand.  I tried to take them from her but she said "I have it". 

I told her "You're going to rip the bag if you carry it like that, can you PLEASE set it down so I can carry it properly?"  She did, and walked off with my insulated tote bag. 

I had a stainless steel mixing bowl, some aluminum cake pans, and a quart of heavy cream in the insulated bag.  You can imagine my horror when I found her hanging the straps of the bag over the seat back, and making aggressove push-up motions, pushing with all her might, on the bag, trying to make it "lay flatter" I guess. 

I objected, stating "I have breakables in there".  She gaped at me as though it had never occurred to her. 

Here's a hint - insulated tote bags have things like milk, eggs, meat, vegetables, fruits, and things that CANNOT BE CRUSHED without ruining them.  I snatched that one away from her and set it on the floor by my feet (we were riding the big van). 

"Don't crush the groceries" would seem to be a common sense item "every" driver would know. 

The driver was a white woman, young enough to be my daughter, and, I felt, sadly lacking in common sense.  I did tell her "I'm sorry I wasn't at the cart, but my husband told me I had 10 minutes". 

I didn't have anything nice to say so I just shut up.  The driver was pretty pissed I put the bags by my feet (out of the way) because I guess, in her world, they had to go where she wanted them.  We were a "straight trip" so it's not like they would have impeded anyone getting on and off anyway. 

I usually give directions when we take the shortest route, because it is very easy to miss the turnoff to the subdivision.  Ron always tells me not to tell them, the GPS will direct them. 

The driver completely missed the turnoff and had to drive 2 miles out of the way.  I didn't say a word, until Ron asked our location.  I just stated the location and he knew. 

I could have said "We turn here" but I was still pretty pissed (I'm a Christian, but I am still human and working on my flaws).  I knew I would have had an ugly tone of voice.  Ron calls it "THE TONE".  He hates the tone and says it is very evocative, saying everything I am trying not to say. 

So, I said nothing, going back again to Dad's rule about not saying anything if you have nothing nice to say (or a nice tone of voice to say it in).  We finally got home, I grabbed my stuff, and leapt off as if I'd been bitten. 

I didn't say anything.  Normally I thank the driver but all I had in mind was "Thanks a lot for ruining my stuff". 

I had bought some individually wrapped cookies to share with the drivers, and even had one package in my shirt pocket, but did not share it with her.  I just didn't have it.   Again, I admit it, I failed as a Christian. 

I think that's one of the lessons God taught me today "I don't have it on my own.  I can only do what I do in His power.  What's in me is ugly and needs a lot of work."  Also, that I have a lot to go on the patience and being territorial about my stuff, thing. 

Ron had been telling me I should give her one of my Syria tracts, but I didn't have any.  Ron acted as if it were a huge tragedy, and I thought "I'm sorry, Lord, but You will have to send her someone else." 

When we got home, I immediately opened my bag, and found everything in perfect condition.   She must have been shoving on the stainless mixing bowl.  Thank God she didn't crush my cream.  That would have been a ghastly mess.  Not to mention aluminum cake pans (the fragile kind, which I had) don't work very well if you smash them and those plastic snap on lids don't like aggressive force either.... 

"I'm a racist" I told Ron.  "I really don't want the white drivers.  I want a black driver!  They have common sense!  Or a latino!  No.  White.  Drivers!"   He went and hid in his room.  He knows it takes me a little while to calm down. 

Every time.  Every time I have felt unsafe riding paratransit, we had a white driver.  [shudder] 

Of course, admitting all this probably means I will have "nothing but" for a while.  [grin]

It took me a while to get to the point where I could forgive her.  I understand she is just an ignorant kid, lacking common sense, trying to make a living.  She probably has a kid or two at home. 

But, in my opinion, she needs to find another line of work.  I shudder to think of her on the freeway. 

Tense

"I'm just going to stay in the house" I told Ron.  "I'm pretty tense.  That soccer ball hitting the house and the kids screaming are getting on my last nerve." 

Unfortunately, during the family soccer games next door, they use my fence as the primary line, the side of the house as a goal zone.  Because we bought a house with a zero property line on that side, the side of the house is the property line, and the kids see it as a nifty orange wall/goal zone. 

Dude, that's my bedroom. 

I noticed, recently, that the father had moved the goal (they made their own, kid-sized goal - let me tell you latino families are very serious about soccer) to his fence, between my house and theirs, facing the street, which cut down on the noise. 

Most nights I am only midly annoyed by the screaming and thumps as the ball hits my house and fence.  Most nights. 

As you know, things are a little tense, though.  I have no idea if I'll have a job in 10 days.  What will happen with the house, cats, etc. 

So, tense is a good descriptor.  A part of me tells myself "A good Christian wouldn't be tense". 

Well, go find one! 

I love Jesus and I am pretty scared - I have always believed in honesty and I am scared.  I have no idea if work will take care of us when they demolish our area, or just tell us "Sorry". 

To make things better, they're having a meeting about us on Tuesday.  THEY are having a meeting.  We were not invited. 

Am I upset about that?  No.  Ron and I are emotional people - and business and emotion are a bad combination.  We are bound to get emotional (Ron cursing, me crying) because we are so damn scared.  If we got bad news God only knows what would happen. 

Now, I will put that aside, and pray for everyone involved in the meeting.  I will pray that the only real news during the meeting is the announcement of our new vending location, in the building.  That it be a wonderful location with plenty of hungry construction workers. 

How do I cope?  Well, I'm praying a lot.  I martialed my online prayer support.  I ask other believers to pray for us.  I focus on things outside of worry: going to work and stocking.  Planning a baking project.  Taking care of myself, Ron, and the cats.  Planning my next Bible Handout and doing up the Bibles. 

Because I cannot, will not sit around and panic. 

Next Friday

"At least it isn't our health" I told my aunt (I should have said "Or the health of anyone we love". 

However, yesterday, while at work, I came out of the credit union to find looking as though he'd been gutted.  He had  blank, gaping, expression mixed with profound shock. 

I ran to him - that's what I do.  I saw a manager was standing nearby. 

"We are shutting down your whole area" I was told.  "And moving your machines.  We don't know where yet but we'll find some place.  In the meantime you are out of business here as of next Friday." 

I imagine I sported a similar expression to Ron's.  Where will they put us? 

Also, per the contract, we are *only* permitted to vend in the cafeteria area.  The other vendor has the contract for the rest of the plant.  I hope he is feeling generous 'cause it looks like we'll be coming into his territory. 

Then I tell myself, who is going to tell Ron "I don't care if you end up in the street.  I'm not sharing."?  How would that make him look?  Would our business consultant allow it?  Hell no. 

We will have plenty of extra business - many construction workers, people from the district, and we have merged operations with the Beaumont plant - they all work out of our plant now.  I know there's enough business to go around. 

Do the other vendors?  That is my primary concern, I think. 

I can say with confidence I would share our area with them, if roles were reversed. 

Ron began having a meltdown so I got the manager away from him.  I told him I looked forward to "hungry construction workers" and was told I have a great attitude.  I mentioned, in passing, Ron was run over by an off-the-clock postal worker. 

I still believe in the concept of a blood debt.  On some level, most people do.  I just mentioned it in passing, didn't beat it, but said "That's why he uses the wheelchair". 

I gave him contact information, showed him our machines, told him the number of machines, and gave him our supervisor's information.  Only state people can move state equipment. 

Wherever it ends up. 

Quality time

If I didn't know better, I'd think Ron was spoiling me!   My love language is quality time. 

He took me out for Mexican food yesterday (boy, the place was packed, it's a good thing we had an hour!), and frozen yogurt today. 

I had a pretty bad headache on Saturday, but we went out anyway.  I had the omlette (bacon, ham, cheese, no onions or peppers), and 5 tortilla chips with hot sauce.  Somehow, that hot sauce can work on my brain and short out a headache. 

It was pretty nasty.  I had an appetite, though, and murdered the entire omlette.  Ron had Chilaquiles Nortenos.  The servers are always impressed when I order that for him. 

Ron's one of those, "What do I like, honey?" guys.  He forgets the nortenos so I correct him, to his pleasure. 

Now, Ron eating is quite a sight.  Ron lost the use of his right side in the accident.  He can walk around the house OK, leaning on walls and such, but his right hand usage was destroyed.  He can't type and he certainly can't use it to eat. 

In high school, I always liked left-handed guys.  I find it funny that Ron became a leftie. 

So, Ron, not that good with knife and fork with the dominant hand, eats his food barehanded.  With the left hand. 

We don't do fine dining for obvious reasons; and I always point him at a corner.  I don't notice.  I focus on my food and his face as we talk. 

When we visit with my family (about the only people Ron cares to impress), he always orders finger food or limps through it with a knife and fork. 

No one has ever said anything to us, probably because they can see Ron has profound physical problems, and a very obvious "head injured" forehead scar (kind of like a skid mark).  Plus, your average taqueria is pretty simple neighborhood family dining. 

Ron ate my beans and french fries, then he ate his.  Stuffed, he asked me to get him a takeout box for his food.  I did, after I finished killing the omlette. 

I love the taqueria because they give me a huge bucket of soda - the cups are huge, nearly 2 quarts.  We had a lot of fun and went home. 

I took a nap.  Torbie loves to sleep with me in my bed.  She's so much fun for both of us.  Ron adores her and gives her too many cat treats. 

Then I checked the mail, I got my "Lord's Prayer" stainless steel ring.  I like it.  It sits on my hand, I don't notice it.  It is pretty.  The actual prayer is very hard to read but that's OK.  It only cost me $10, and a place holder until I get into a smaller ring. 

No problems washing my hands.  It's a little snug but that's fine.  I'm happy.

We also got Ron's proof of Metrolift renewal stuff.  Good. He just got an annual pass so we're good for a while. 

Today we stayed home (Ron's request).  I slept too late and got another headache, but I was down a pound.  I can live with that. 

I just had the horrible thought: I recently got some meat sticks.  Smoked pork.  They are really good.  They might be linked to the headaches.  No meat sticks tonight! 

Baby Girl has been keeping me busy, too.  I try to play with her around sunset because cats are crepuscular - active during dusk and dawn.  Her energy level and play drive go way up.  I try to accomodate. 

We generally start off with the laser, and run up and down my 30-foot hallway a few times.  Then as she pants, I run the laser in circles around her.  When she tires of that, I get out the teaser wand and encourage her to make high jumps in the air.  When done, she collapses, looking exhausted and completely innnocent.  THEN I stop. 

If I don't keep her busy, I hear these awful squeaks from Tobie, who becomes the toy.  She can generally flip Baby Girl over and get her to stop, but I'm not going to let my baby suffer. 

Torbie is interested in play, but not really engaged.  I remember she has outside access, toys in the house, and Baby Girl when she wants a playmate (I do find them wrestling and clearly wanting to).  She will watch the laser, paw it a few times, watch the teaser go by her paws, but that's it. 

However, if I wanted another high energy, playful kitten, I would have adopted one.  I'm totally happy with a big lump. 

Yesterday, I wrote a tract, which will become another post.  Today I finished the editing and printed a single copy.  It was 2 pages.  Today, we got it made into double sided tracts.  Then we went out for frozen yogurt. 

Ron had liked the sugarfree Strawberry Banana, so I got him some with cashews.  He loved it, rated it a "10", and got seconds.  He even used a spoon! 

I went with the plain unsweetened - I got more than last time.  I was fine eating it before so I assume I am fine eating it this time.  This will probably be my "cheat meal" for the next 2 months.  I loved it. 

We had a nice time talking.  Then we went to our pickup location and came home. 

Ron's taking a nap.  That was a big meal for him (with lots of PROTEIN!). 

I'm just relaxing.  Tomorrow we have a lot of running around. 

264

If you're active on Facebook, you may have read those outraged posts "Someone unfriended me!". 

Well, someone did.  I can only conclude it's because they either believe in that "Name your healing and you will receive it" nonsense, or they were offended by Ron's diabetic leg photos.  I'm guessing the latter. 

Hey, I'm trying to WARN you!  If the images alarm you that much, you need to look at your diet and see your carb counts. 

It's funny because I have posted about the Mark of the Beast, the Rapture, sin, hell, salvation, stated that Jesus is the only way to Heaven.  Ron asked me to put up a video called "Big Butt Women" by Horace Trahan (it's a cute Zydeco song).  No one had a problem with that. 

But a diabetic blister sends them running, and now I'm down to 264. 

Am I upset?  No. 

Baffled. 

Leg Ulcer Photos

As you know I have had a lot of anxiety-ridden drama over Ron and the Leg Ulcers. 

They're like the horrible garage band that never leaves. 

How bad, you ask? 

Here we go.  I got permission from Ron of course. 

Ron brags I was able to deduce what two doctors could not - a high blood sugar coupled with all-night use of the leg massager (two balls on a stick design, and sporting a warning label warning the user to never, ever, do that) led to burn-looking blisters.  They popped.  They got infected. 

No one knew what was going on.  Ron mentioned diabetes and I got out my meter, and discovered yes he is diabetic.  The neighbor had an all night party, Ron drank more vodka, and more blisters. 

He also got one when he had the blended coffee drink at Starbucks, and the newest one was from "just" falling asleep with the massager on his leg. 

Heather, you ask.  How could you stay with him?  Well, it's my job.  I don't believe in conditional marriage vows.  "In sickness, unless you get disgusting infected leg ulcers". 

I figured out if they stayed closed they did better, but some did pop.  Those that did got infected. 

Ron no longer drinks any hard stuff.  I tease him about his "girl beer" - the low carb michelob.  He watches his sugar and eats more (low glycemic) vegetables than I do. 

We're learning.

His legs are also a TERRIFIC motivator to keep me on plan.  One look at that and suddenly, I don't want it anymore. 

Ron's rather proud of the effect.  He got me on lowcarb, not by nagging and complaining, but by showing me my future if I didn't. 

Bengali Terror

I screamed as I stood in the hallway, a flying Bengali terror headed straight for my face.  Baby Girl had leapt into the air after a teaser toy and headed straight for me!  Her mouth was open, showing all her teeth, all four legs outstretched, claws extended.  Of course I screamed.  Anyone would. 

We strongly suspect Baby Girl (Little Girl to Ron) is a Bengal.  Only God knows how she ended up in my yard.  No one lost her.  So, she's been ours for a year.  She is the brown spotted tabby in my slideshow to the right. 

She has some Bengal mannerisms, meowing while eating, a very "different" meow, unique coloration, and a very high play drive.  I've told Ron I think God sent her to us to give me a playmate when I'm depressed. 

Torbie is awesome, don't get me wrong, but she's not very lively.  Baby Girl will literally paw at the laundry room door (home to the laser pointer), howling for playtime.  I always take it off and we have a good time playing laser. 

I was doing OK until I got to "Jump".  I swing the teaser in an arc, a few feet above the floor, exhorting her to "Jump, Jump, Jump!"  She will take a flying leap at the teaser (usually away from my face) and I praise her "Good Girl!".  We have fun and Ron enjoys the narration. 

Then I was attacked (grin).  She did drop before she hit me.  I then stood in the hall laughing hysterically for a couple of minutes.  Not bad for a depression! 

Speaking of, I am writing this before meds.  We did a lot today, went to Walmart, did a small amount of personal shopping.  I found a performance fabric tshirt in loud orange, perfect for a Bible Handout.  I returned something I had bought.  We got soda for work.  I also found some really good beef jerky. 

Both Ron and I plan to get more tomorrow.  It doesn't have the chemicals, so it tastes way better.  It's also surprisingly affordable.  www.dukesmeats.com  Ron calls it "The smoky" 

"I'm getting my own bag of the smoky tomorrow".  It is also insanely low carb.  Insanely good.  I'm eating a piece right now. 

On our way to work, I met yet another ignorant person who basically told me I was letting the devil force depression on me, that I "didn't have to accept it" - said phrase being repeated several times.  I wonder if she tells her wheelchair users they don't have to accept it.  She didn't tell Ron he didn't have to accept being blind and having had a stroke.  No.  I am mentally ill, therefore I can be kicked because my problem is *only* spiritual. 

I am not a fan of the treatment, as I consider it.  They always imply I am weak, easily manipulated, addicted to evil big pharm medications (she didn't get into that but most do), spiritually wimpy, lacking in faith, sinning, etc. 

But they never do it with a "real" disability.  The sad and shameful thing, I have known this person for a while and thought she was a lot better than that. 

I have concluded people like that don't want to empathize, so they make it my fault instead.  It's my fault, they don't have to feel bad for me.  I did it to myself.   So they believe. 

I know that God created me with bipolar disorder, He allowed me to have the brain damage, because He can only use me this way.  Who am I to tell God what should happen with my body?  It's His creation.  If I can reach people like this, bring it.  That's always been my attitude. 

Ron calls me "A Good Soldier".  I hope so. 

We went to work, the machines looked good, we got the soda stocked.  We did what we needed to do and then left, and went to our other location.  They left us there for a while, so I got a few things at the Dollar Store. 

I also found a wondrous place.  Frozen Yogurt.  They have a plain, unsweetened, frozen yogurt.  It was wonderful.  One of my happy childhood memories - going to get ice cream.  Ice cream and frozen dairy treats are associated with a lot of happy times. 

I would LOVE to have some kind of frozen dairy in my life.  Now I can.  We'll see what my weight says tomorrow.  It didn't spike my sugars - I checked my glucose when I got home. 

Like I said, I really liked the plain kind, but I put a little (self serve bar) sugarfree strawberry banana in the bowl.  Ron liked it. 

I think I'm going there for my birthday "cheat".  Unsweetened frozen yogurt, maybe with some sugarfee hot topping (like caramel or something).  Yum. 

Tomorrow, though, I'm definitely getting more jerky. 

I miss my wedding ring

A proposal is, hopefully, a once in a lifetime event.  Every woman wants it to be special; and I think, most men too. 

I have to tell you this story to lead up to my purchase of "new" wedding rings yesterday. 

When Ron and I met, we fell hard and fast.  We agreed to move in together right after I turned 18, and then get married (my understanding). 

Well, we moved in and that went fine.  We lived in a horrible converted garage apartment with occasional sewage issues.  We had a concrete floor with an enormous floor drain.  But we never got married. 

Ron said he wasn't ready, I had issues, he had issues.  A year later we moved to our next place.  It was a lot better but still in a terrible area (none of this ever mattered to me as long as I didn't have that floor drain or sewage issues). 

I was working for Target, he'd gotten a job working for a computer firm.  He did customer service for the blind equipment division.  They even loaned him an item so he had experience.  It was a temporary job with the understanding, if he performed well, it would become permanent.  Ron did very well but they ended up laying off the entire division. 

However, instead of just the disability check, Ron had actually made some real money for a few months.  He decided to make a purchase. 

He began by asking me to describe the jewelry at the counter, what I liked, what I hated. I thought it was a fun game.  I told him I'd love an amythest ring. 

I figured Ron wasn't ready to buy me a diamond, and couldn't afford it anyway.  He acted really wierd when I told him about the "purple" ring, though.  He kept asking if I wouldn't like a diamond.  I told him, yes, I would, but I understood that wouldn't be possible.  Ron relaxed. 

About a week after that incident, and 10 days before Christmas, Ron suddenly yelled "I can't take it anymore!" and ran into the bedroom.  I was deeply alarmed until he came out with a ring box and got down on his knees. 

Of course I said yes, and he presented me with a very nice little diamond.  I knew it had taken more than he could spare, but he assured me he got it on sale, it was a real diamond, and offered to show me the certificate.  [later a jeweler said it was a "very nice little diamond" when she reset it for me, into a band with some other stones]. 

He told me his shopping companion had suggested he get a ring with lots of tiny diamond chips.  Ron chose a solitare, which is exactly the right choice.  Don't get me wrong, most women would consider it "tiny" but I love that ring. 

Happily, because I am good at hiding things, the burglars did not find my ring when they robbed me.  Thank you Jesus!  Many years ago, I bought some gemstones and a 5-stone ring setting, off the internet, when manic.  My money was better.  I got two tiny pink sapphires (my birthstone, which went on the far left and right), two purple garnets (Ron's birthstone), and had them placed on either side of the solitare.  So, it was pink, purple, diamond, purple, pink.  The jeweler loved the design.  So did I. 

Of course, I couldn't wear it at work.  My job is brutal for jewelry, so I keep it hidden away. 

My hands have lost weight, my "fat" titanium ring doesn't fit anymore.  My "real" wedding ring, also titanium, is too small for my ring finger and too large to be worn as a pinkie ring. 

So, after yet another LONG day at work, I went shopping online.  This is what I chose: 

I love purple, so this was a no-brainer: 

Stainless steel, CZ, "Love Token".  Very cute.  It ships from China and will take a while.   $7

This is also stainless with yellow stainless.  Lord's Prayer.  I thought it was cool. 

It cost about $10 or so. 

The metal should be a lot more durable than silver or gold, I don't have to worry about hurting it or washing my hands.  I have 2 nice choices and they both cost less than $20 together. 

I miss my wedding ring.  I want SOMETHING. 

About work

I have been insanely busy with work in the last few days.  However, I'm not embarrassed anymore.  The machines are WELL stocked, the stockroom is OK, and we have a good product mix. 

It, however, wore me out. 

Now, in the old days it wouldn't matter.  However, when I put myself out there with my real name, when I'm considered high risk by police due to severe mental illness.... I might end up with an unexpected visit if I neglect the blog!   "She hasn't posted in a week and she was really depressed!" 

I should have at least sent a text from my cell phone. 

No, I do not need any intervention.  I really have worked my butt off.  I learned something interesting, between the lugging stuff to work, pulling it on the hand cart, and stocking (a lot of bending over and reaching).  It's a good butt workout.  I can literally "work" my butt off!  Especially when I had to move a vending machine.  I literally used my butt like a battering ram.  LOL 

Melanie, I'm sorry to admit I only have the regular Cokes in the bottle.  I hear the old style sodas with real sugar are a million times better.  In fact, sometimes they sell them in cans here. 

What do I sell?  That might be a fun one.  Let me get myself a drink.  OK. 

First, we sell sodas.  We have a contract with Dr Pepper.  They lend us the machines.  We have a contract; each machine holds about 8 selections.  We agree to carry only 2 competitors (Coke or Pepsi products) in each machine.  They come out and audit us.  We never get in trouble.  We have 3 vending machines.  We stock a lot of canned soda, which is delivered to us. 

We get the Dr Pepper delivery once a month, and the competitor (Cokes, mainly) delivery once a month.  If we run out of the competitors we can run to the grocery store, but our contract forbids it with Dr Pepper. 

We also have the services of the very nice Dr Pepper repairman. He comes out for free as part of our contract.  We only see him about once a year. 

We also have a bottled vendor machine.  We fill it with Crush and bottled water.  It is not a Dr Pepper machine so we can stock whatever we want. 

Next we get to "my" babies, the snack machines.  I have 3 on loan from the state.  One, my favorite, is a very old Rowe, about 30 years old.  It's my favorite, easy to open, easy to stock, tamper-proof, and just all around awesome.  I also have a brand new machine (not from Rowe, I forget) that I like very much, but the door is very hard to open.  It's a security feature, I get that, but it is frustrating.  I also have an API snack I like a lot, it is not as easy to service, has a glitch that can put the bill acceptor out of use, but it works well and never hangs up. 

I tend to stock the snacks with pastry at the bottom.  Currently I am selling a brand I will discontinue, because a lady came to me and very politely told me they taste awful compared to the previous brand.  Ooops.  I want happy customers, and the food cost is the same.  The "crap" brand was bigger and I thought, better.  So, I sell some type of honey bun, glazed, and iced.  Then I have cinnamon rolls, chocolate donuts, and chocolate cupcakes.  They don't all fit in the bottom so I scatter the extras through the machine.  We sell them for a dollar, per the contract (yes we are told how much we can charge). 

I then do candy/chips/nuts.  Candy is sold at 90 cents, so I don't have a huge selection.  Those in the business know that is a terrible food cost.  I am working on changing that.  Next are crackers, the filled kind (most popular is the cheese cracker with peanut butter filling).  I carry several types, including whole grain, as they have the best food cost.  My customers literally eat them up.  I try to have a good variety.  I also have a trail mix item and 2 types of granola bars. 

If someone asks me if I have "anything healthy" I can point out several items. 

Now we get to chips.  We charge 65 cents.  I sell an assortment of 1 ounce Frito Lay chips (I get nearly all my snack product at the wholesale warehouse).  Right now I am featuring BBQ, Plain, and an assortment of spicy items because the younger kids at work love them.  I have to find a product mix that is suitable for both a 60 year old white management guy; and a 20 year old, black, "casual" mailhandler. 

Cookies.  I have them.  All sold for 70 cents.  I have the Grandmas with the 2 large cookies in the wrapper.  I have them in various flavors, including double chocolate and peanut butter.  I also feature some low fat animal crackers for the healthy crowd. 

I sell a few other things in snacks but you get the idea, and why it is so labor intensive! 

Ron and I share responsibility for the canned soda.  He does bottled soda pretty much by himself (I move the cases around for him).  The food machines have a lot of bottled drinks, which he covers.  I do the sandwiches.  He does muffins after I label them with the expiration date.  We also get sandwiches every week. 

We also have the coffee vending machine, which we hear is going away soon (the program owns everything except the inventory).  Good.  It is a problem child and very old. 

That's it for work. 

The cats have made a real man out of me

Pretty depressed today. 

Good news, lots of nice cuddles with Torbie.  I feel so sorry for her former "owners" having to give her up.  They must miss her every day. 

I had a flashback to the old Bubba days when Baby Girl (aka Varmit) brought home a live Katydid.  Bugs can scream, you know.  Boy, did it scream.  So did Ron. 

Varmit, being a good daughter, brought it into my room at first, until I shouted at her.  Torbie got up, fascinated "What's this?  Oh, how exciting!" while taking a few bats at it with a multicolored paw.  She used to be such a nice girl. 

Varmie then dragged her treasure into Ron's room (Ron should have shut the door the second he heard the racket, he's out of practice).  Ron started screaming my name.  I laid in bed for just a second, thinking "What if I didn't get up" and then envisioned Ron frantically whacking everything with his shoe, including Torbie.  Can't have that. 

I got up, got a shoe from under the bed, and found the victim.  I shoved Varmie out of the way with my left arm and whacked the bug with my right.  It's dead.  I left it there and went back to bed. 

I got up a couple hours later.  The bug was gone.  God only knows. 

I took my shower and did my God Time.  I feel wierd without a wedding ring.  I worry that people think we're fighting and I'm mad at Ron.  I need to get a new one.  We're going to go to Walmart tomorrow.  Hopefully I can find something cute in titanium or tungsten, in a 7.  I need something durable 'cause vending is rough on my hands. 

Torbie's lying on the couch behind me.  I had to change out the pillowcases, I still have it covered with the orange sheet, orange towel on the seat.  However, the black pillowcases, a poly-cotton blend, made me sweat a lot when I'm doing my God Time. 

I can only sleep on cotton sheets, I think because the meds make me sweat a lot.  Same for back support, apparently.  So, I went digging in my storage and found a cute comforter cover and matching shams in an orange-yellow-red, mostly orange.  I have a cheap duvet, designated for the couch - it folds out into a bed.  I covered it, and put that over the end of the couch where I broke my toe last year (nice and padded, now).  Then I covered the pillows and positioned them.  Torbie seems to like it.  She is partly orange so she blends right in.  I can't believe BARC called her a "brown tabby"! 

I like to call her "Beautiful" because she is, inside and out.  She is one of my most favorite cats. 

She never brings me "treats". 

Each other

I just adjusted the towel on my chair, thinking "Someone seeing this would probably think I have an elimination issue".  I don't, praise God.  But I do spill drinks, and I have a vomiting cat. 

Bubba was probably the worst for that.  He loved to eat things that didn't "agree" and then he'd huck it up in my bed, usually, the floor, chair, or couch.  I loved Bubba so I developed work arounds.  Mainly, a lot of towels on things.  I noticed it helped a lot with spilled drinks and food (I hardly ever eat at the table), Ron messes, and such. 

So, I've kept them. 

The last couple days have been insanely busy.  Work, lots of it.  Looks like they really did merge the Beaumont processing center with our location.  They are also bringing in the District Office, AND building a major expansion. 

That equals a lot more postal workers, hungry contractors, and more business.  Which equals a LOT more work for me. 

Don't get me wrong, I have a strong work ethic.  There's nothing I hate more than turning my back on an empty vending machine and leaving it.  Ron has been supportive, and generous with "my" budget. 

Here are a couple of things I did - bought the "good" cup of noodles at the grocery store, in flavors unavailable from the wholesaler (they only offer plain beef, or plain chicken - I have things like shrimp, roast beef, etc).  I also found a good deal on vienna sausages.  I paired a can of the sausages with a package of saltine crakers for a long-lasting product in the food machines. 

I also brought back chocolate cupcakes, so insanely popular I sold out 2 days after stocking. 

So, lots of work.  I did have to leave work after only 5 hours, yesterday.  The delivery was very late.  The other vendor agreed to get it (I have gotten many deliveries for them); so we left at our pickup time.  They said they would pay out of the cash we left them, put it on our stockroom (just shove the pallet) and lock our door.  I'll be busy Monday. 

We had to get Baby Girl some worm medicine.  She still has an issue.  I got the medicine and came home, dosed her with the capsules, and then dosed Torbie.  Both girls were surprisingly good and didn't bite or claw.  They resisted, all right, but who wouldn't? 

Torbie did not sleep with me last night, but both Ron and I noticed that Baby Girl was a lot more lively today.  Good.  Worth it.  I have a couple more doses for them, too, if they need it. 

Ron's blister is getting better, in fact he teased me today when we were eating at our favorite taqueria.  I was talking about milk candy and describing it.  He started pulling up his pant leg to show me his blisters and said "Take a good look!" 

In an odd way, he is very flattered that those horrible blisters were an inspiration for me.  Lecturing, nagging, and such didn't work on me.  I am contrary that way.  Show me my future if I keep eating sugar and I make an immediate lifestyle change. 

I'm mostly depressed.  Thursday the internet went down due to a storm.  Friday I was exhausted from a very long day. 

Today I went to the warehouse and bought lots of merchandise, when I walk out on Monday the machines will look great!  I love that. 

We came home, I took a nap, I kept hearing thunder but we only got a little drizzle.  However, a chemical tanker got hit by lightning in far NE Houston.  Yikes. 

Most places are near a train track, even in the nice areas.  It just makes you think. 

I have had a problem lately.  I have lost about one ring size.  I had been wearing a size 8 titanium band on my wedding ring finger, a size 9 tungsten on my right middle finger. 

Well, I went down a size and how the wedding ring doesn't fit.  My "real" wedding ring is about a size 6, too small.  I can't wear it as a pinkie ring, it's too large for that finger, but clearly too small for the "wedding" finger. 

I need a size 7, titanium or tungsten.  Happily, they are very cheap and I will be buying myself one after I get paid.  I got my last ring for about $7. 

I've been very impressed with the performance of both rings; titanium and tungsten.  Although if I found a cheap, cute silver ring I'd get it, they aren't as durable. 

I am pretty sure if I keep it up I'll be back in the original wedding ring in no time, and Ron and I will actually look married to each other. 

Photo post

Just for fun, I'm going to post some photos. 

This is the soda I had to put away today.  This is about half to a third of the soda we use in a month. 

 This is what I do for a living: 

Don't fart, Ron, you'll kill Torbie! 

Torbie was so cute, here, I made her wallpaper for my phone. 

Baby Girl sleeping in Daddy's wheelchair.   Nearly every cat we've had since the accident has loved to sleep in the wheelchair.  ALWAYS the girls (except Torbie). 

Video Blog! I hope you notice some weight loss.

Humans are not

Boy, I've gotten all kinds of name calling in the last, 20 minutes or so. 

What, Heather, you may ask, was your "Crime?" 

"Cooking dinner" I'd reply. 

You'd remark in astonishment and I'd agree with you. 

Ron is EXTREMELY paranoid about the electric bill.  During the summer, he forbids showers after 9 AM - doesn't matter if I just mowed the yard, I "can't" take a shower until the next morning.  I have found the bath wipes used for invalids very helpful. 

Ron is also pretty "extreme" in regulating any kind of cooking.  I am "not allowed" to use the burners or oven (I never use the oven anyway) during the summer at all.  Once he told me he guessed I could, if I got up at 4 AM to do it.  Lately, I have gotten very grudging permission to occasionally use the wok or skillet around dinnertime.  The last time I did, he remarked how "It wasn't hot at all" in the house. 

Washer or dryer?  Not during the day. 

[Ron came by complaining again, he truly believes I committed the "crime of cooking during the hot part of the day, "overworking" the air conditioner, and running up the bill" because I "hate" him.]   So, in his mind, he is responding accordingly. 

I can guess what you might be thinking.  My theory runs [personality disorder] + [head injury] + alcohol (he was bragging earlier how he had two beers and "was fine"). 

It is a normal expectation for a woman to want to cook some dinner.   Not in Ron's world.  A woman who "loved" him, I'm guessing, would open up a can of some processed crap, or microwave a processed TV dinner and "save him", while remaining a healthy 130 pounds. 

It's just stupid.  Not only did I get up early and mow the entire yard (it takes an hour with the corded electric mower), I then streamed Youtube videos and read him articles off Wikipedia for about an hour.  I tried to take a nap, but that didn't work. 

Ron keeps the house pretty hot, so when he drinks, he gets hotter - and then, I guess, blames me.  So many times, he just gets belligerent when he drinks. 

Anyway, I got up, with enough energy to do the yardwork.  I really don't want to be "that" house.   I did my God Time and drank a lot of fluids.  It's hot, sunny, and humid.  I don't need any trouble. 

I have seen a lot of red wasps so I wore my leggings and a baggy t-shirt.  It kind of reminded me of the 80's.  I did figure out my smoker is still wasp-free.  Good.  That would be an awful shock - they got me once when I accidentally knocked it over while mowing.  I reached down to pick it up and got a huge red wasp.  He stuck his stinger in me and injected venom until I literally shook him off.  It took weeks to heal. 

I got it done.  Ron wanted to "help" so I asked him to do some weeding in front of the garage.  He did a decent job with that and went inside.  I went in the backyard and mowed all of that. 

I am frustrated with Ron, because the last 2 times I have mowed he didn't roll up the cord, and I had to untangle a huge knot.  If he  is so glad I'm doing it, why can't he do the one thing I ask of him? 

I also asked him to wash a cutting board and a knife, he didn't.  I had to wash them myself before I cooked dinner tonight. 

In "religious" terms, making something an idol means you give it more importance than God.  I tend to do that with Ron.  When he acts like this, I get a correction and put my eyes back on God. 

Well, I'm not doing that today.  I just get tired of the attitude.  He doesn't appreciate me and he deliberately "fights" dirty, hitting below the belt and doing his best to kick me in my privates (figuratively speaking), even when I'm not fighting back. 

God is a source of unconditional love.  Humans are not. 

Quality time

Yesterday we went to work, and came home.  I had a terrible headache all day, and got manic from the excedrin; which resulted in a cooking spree. 

On the positive side, I did cook a lot of the sausage I bought.  I ate a little too much and felt kind of bloated, but it was good, and worth it. 

I was very proud as I sat in my chair, eating a huge bowl of stir fried amaranth greens.  I really want to eat better.  It's awful, and true, Ron's diabetes is a real wake up. 

I had a 4 ounce breakfast link and some pan sausage, in addition to the greens, for dinner.  So good. 

I very sneakily cooked up half Ron's jalapeno sausage, slicing it into little coins.  I put it on a covered plate in the fridge so he can nibble.  Ron, like me, is a nibbler.  He also needs to eat a lot more protien.  If I can present a completely delicious, nibble-friendly, protein, he'll eat it.  He's been nibbling.  It works. 

I cooked up breakfasts for myself, with the pan sausage, ground sausage topped with a fried egg or two.  I can drink one of my little V8's and have a great breakfast.  When I'm tired, or depressed, I can eat well, but it has to be easy.  I can take something out of the freezer and nuke it. 

Then, almost out of energy, I cooked myself a link breakfast sausage (it was huge).  It was also deliciously smoked and flavored, with a wonderfully crispy casing. 

After all that, I called my parents (Dad and adoptive Mom), then went to bed.  Yum. 

We got up early this morning and went out to breakfast.  Ron won't go to church every week, but every other week.  I'll take what I can get. 

I figured, since I was on such a sausage kick, I'd try the chorizo sausage.  It was very good.  The cook had it out of the casing and crumbled into the eggs.  I ordered a chorizo and egg taco (eating the filling only) and a bacon and egg taco.  The waitress was impressed I know "Tocino" means bacon in Spanish. 

Ron woke up, we chatted for a bit just now.  I think I'm going to plan my cheat meal for a bacon and cheese quesadilla, with a gluten free brownie later.  Yeah, I could do that.  About 30 carbs in the tortilla, and maybe 50 in the brownie. I probably won't eat the whole quesadilla in one day, Ron gets the "leftovers", so not even that. 

He loves the sausage cut up and cooked, in the fridge.  So, I'll be doing that on an ongoing basis.  I can rotate the types of sausage.  He loves it with refried beans.  I won't tell him adding meat to beans helps complete the bean protien - and it's a wondeful idea.  I just told him he could do "A lot worse". 

So, after eating our breakfast we went home for a little bit and then went to the pet store.  I needed to get the systemic flea drops.  I put the drops on the cat's neck, and anything that sucks the cat's blood will die.  The cats tolerate it just fine. 

Petsmart has a good brand, on sale $12 for 3 doses.  Ron got two boxes, so we're good until Christmas.  Ron's in charge of food and water for the cats, and does a very good job.  He says we are fine for cat food so we didn't get any. 

We do plan to buy the larger bag, because it's a better deal.   We'll save a dollar a pound.

Gotta go, quality time with Ron. 

Planning the cheat day.

So, today finds me plotting my cheat meal, for my birthday. 

My birthday is in 3 weeks; and I figure it's a good idea to plan in advance.  I plan to do, at most, one cheat day every 2 months. 

Living in the "Big City" I have a lot of choices, including a couple of gluten free bakeries.  I'm thinking I will get a brownie and maybe a cornbread muffin.  I love cornbread.  I seriously love brownies. 

My goal, for the cheat day, is to keep the overall carbs under 100.  Gluten free is just a bonus.  I get hives and stomach pains when eating gluten, so it's clearly something to avoid.   Peanuts make me hivey so I need to avoid them, too.  They can do that. 

It looks to be a fun day. 

I've had so many horrible birthdays, a good one is always a bonus.  The weather likes to wreck my birthdays, too.  Hurricane Ike.  Other hurricanes. 

Although, I guess I could just move up my cheat day to before the hurricane if I wanted.