I hate it when I can't sleep.
I had to get up at 2 AM today, delivery day. To their credit, all the neighbors were incredibly quiet. I just. Couldn't. Sleep!
I finally lured Torbie to bed with some treats. She laid by my head and that knocked me out.
I got up at 2, hit the snooze once only. Yay. I drank my Diet Mountain Dew and took my shower. My hair was fine, so I didn't wash it.
I did my God Time, all of it. I love getting it done early.
I ate and took my meds. Our ride arrived.
Why would anyone honk a horn in a quiet subdivision at 3:30 in the morning? I was looking out for him. I went out and asked him to please be quiet, people are sleeping. I pointed at all the dark houses around us. Oh, sorry.
He made a lot of racket unfolding the ramp, then talked loudly to Ron as he loaded him, until I reminded Ron - NEIGHBORS!
After that, the driver thought I was a bitch. Kept telling me I "needed to relax". He's a horrible driver! How can I do that? He's as bad as the guy who got in the wreck.
I said everything very politely. I don't see how I could have done it differently. I do not want my drivers waking up my neighbors, especially when the neighbors are going above and beyond to be respectful to me.
Some of the paratransit cab drivers are doing this as a "last resort", to earn money. They don't have any professional driving experience and treat it as a horrid indignity. They don't tend to last very long, have good attitudes, or be very safe. This guy fell into that category.
He was muslim. I don't care about that - but when Ron was talking "religion" in the back he made some strangling noises at a few of Ron's comments "He stayed dead... going to hell..."
I told Ron, later, after Ron had given him a tract.
Anyway, we got our favorite guy from the other vendor's business, and two old ladies who were going to dialysis. God himself will have to come down and tell me to take dialysis.
Ron agrees - and more importantly my family knows our wishes. We got to work. I brought in my snacks and stocked.
The other vendor was in a pretty good mood, until he found out Dr Pepper swapped our old, piece of crap, soda vendor, for a brand new machine. He got a little bitter about that, kept saying he was going to "take" it. Our name's on the papers. Our lock in the machine (I installed it). Good luck.
Ron and I were pretty worried about the new ice machine. The maintenence guys plugged it in on our vending circuit, currently occupied by a bottled vendor, cold food vendor, and a coffee machine. We thought for certain it would overload the circuit.
Happily, we were wrong. Every compressor was humming along at the same time, all of them working. "God did something to those amps in the wall" I told someone.
The bottled vendor was nearly empty - I think the ice machine will actually bring it a lot of attention. It may benefit our business.
That problem solved, the coffee machine began making half cups. [SCREAM!] "That's an O-ring" our repairman told us. "I'll come out Wednesday".
Thank God we will get reimbursed - eventually.
It's a good thing I trust our repairman implicitly.
We'll get it eventually. People are addicted to coffee, therefore far more cranky when the machine has problems.
I did snacks and realized we could take tomorrow off. Yay.
Sandwiches arrived and were stocked, into the cold food vendor NOT on the ice machine circuit (just in case). We do need to get some more cold food items.
The other vendor asked how to get his new badge. I told him, wait until 10 and talk to the lady. They left at 9.
Don't you want to get into the building?
I guess not. I was running wild, what with the soda delivery (40 cases), putting that up, stocking the other machines, helping Ron stock ("You're a big help today" he told me sincerely), getting the soda machines swapped out, figuring out the new soda machine (I asked the delivery guys), stocking the bottled vendor, putting bottled drinks in the fridge, filling the change bank, filling the new soda machine, getting rid of trash, you get it.
BUSY!
Thank God Ron, as a bonus, buys me a case of bottled Diet Dr Pepper now and then. He keeps it in our fridge and I can help myself.
That's a good bonus.
I didn't have time to get my badge done, but I'll check on Wednesday. We have a little time.
We went to the bank, I got paid. Yay.
Our pickup was early. I saw him in the parking lot and waved cheerfully. He came right over. We got home early.
Baby Girl let me have a tummy rub when she saw I'd brought Daddy home.
I ate yesterday's takeout burger, my pills, and half a diet soda leftover from breakfast.
I took a nap, right before the neighbor children came home. Even hours of happy toddler noises and childish shrieks couldn't stop my nap. I was out. I just had odd dreams about noisy kids.
Thank God, today is done.
Monday, June 30, 2014
Sunday, June 29, 2014
Fair to partly crappy
I'm working on being a positive person; in part because Ron can run very negative. It's the same general thing, served again and again. I have, on occasion, just yelled at him to shut up, already.
Shame on me, yelling at the poor blind cripple! LOL
I try to balance every post. Is it accurate? Is it wallowing? If so, I edit. Is it balanced? Am I sharing the small, sweet, things like Baby Girl lying by my feet? I don't want to be a downer while I'm sharing my life.
Anyway, Ron was doing it again this morning. "Ron," I told him, as calmly as possible "How would you react if I were saying all this to you? Giving you all this negative energy?"
He did stop.
See, I've learned something. An average person can only take a small amount of negative energy. When they ask how I'm doing, they want to hear the highlights.
So, at church, I said "We had a horrible problem with three broken vending machines, but our awesome repairman got it all fixed, AND a wonderful man and his family are donating yard care services!" They liked that.
Then I went onto the Handout. The general attitude seemed to be - don't knock the numbers. You're handing them out, that's the job. You may not always get high numbers but people are being reached. Good point.
We had a good ride to church and got there an hour early. We hung out and talked, did some prayer time, and attended the service. The aisles are really wide so I can park Ron in the aisle and sit next to him.
I got pretty dizzy, though. For some reason it only happens at church, and one reason I sit in the second row - I may need to grab onto the seat back in front! I still feel fair to partly crappy, disoriented, dizzy, and weak. Not fun.
Anyway, nice people sitting around us. The pastor's wife came over and hugged us after the service. I thought that was really sweet.
Afterward, I rolled Ron away, very carefully, clutching the wheelchair handles like a walker because I was afraid I'd lose my balance. I thought I was "fronting" OK, presenting a nice healthy image, but apparently not. One of the elders came over and asked if I was OK.
I gave a partial explanation "I take some pretty toxic medication [unsaid, because I'm bipolar with schitzo on top!], and it's hitting me hard today." They may think I'm on pain meds, or something.
Ron made a good point, you don't need to go in there and tell them everything, first off.
I found it disturbing, at the other church, the pastor kept preaching - a lot, lately - on how "You don't need psychiatric medication, you just need Jesus!" Yes, I need Jesus for salvation, I absolutely need my toxic meds to be fit for the public, and to keep from killing myself and others. I never addressed it with him because I find the "faith versus meds" argument to be very painful.
People tend to point fingers and act like I'm weak - then, if I show all my scars, they grudgingly "give me permission" to take my meds, with the strong implication I'm just not as strong. Honey, you have no idea what I've fought. I'm a lot stronger than you'll ever know.
Let me make it clear: I don't need anyone's permission to take my medication. I have made it clear to everyone in my life: if you try to make me choose between medicated and you, "you" will lose. One of my Facebook friends found that out the hard way. Another has been unfollowed.
Like I said, it's painful, so I didn't address it. I had a really bad feeling he would have gone the "faith only" route and I would have had to leave the church anyway.
At any rate, I cannot have people telling me "You don't need your medication, Heather". I do. I will die without my medication.
If you're telling me to stop, you're trying to kill me and I will respond accordingly, by cutting you out of my life. Yes, I feel like crap. Yes, I know the meds are toxic. Yes, I know I will not live to my 80's, like my grandmothers. I'm OK with that.
I'll take a quality life.
So, after church, Ron suggested we get something to eat. I slowly and carefully rolled his wheelchair over to the Burger King. We ate lunch. I felt a little better but not much. We chatted for a while and went home.
Our neighbors had people over. Mexico was in the soccer games today; and lost. At any rate they had mowed our front yard again - they left the zinnias alone. They left a couple hours ago for church, I guess.
I considered going to bed early but I have not.
We have a very busy day tomorrow, and it starts very early.
I did some research, the park Ron suggested for a Handout is in the midst of a truly terrible neighborhood. They even had a couple murders.
I think it will be good for a Handout.
Shame on me, yelling at the poor blind cripple! LOL
I try to balance every post. Is it accurate? Is it wallowing? If so, I edit. Is it balanced? Am I sharing the small, sweet, things like Baby Girl lying by my feet? I don't want to be a downer while I'm sharing my life.
Anyway, Ron was doing it again this morning. "Ron," I told him, as calmly as possible "How would you react if I were saying all this to you? Giving you all this negative energy?"
He did stop.
See, I've learned something. An average person can only take a small amount of negative energy. When they ask how I'm doing, they want to hear the highlights.
So, at church, I said "We had a horrible problem with three broken vending machines, but our awesome repairman got it all fixed, AND a wonderful man and his family are donating yard care services!" They liked that.
Then I went onto the Handout. The general attitude seemed to be - don't knock the numbers. You're handing them out, that's the job. You may not always get high numbers but people are being reached. Good point.
We had a good ride to church and got there an hour early. We hung out and talked, did some prayer time, and attended the service. The aisles are really wide so I can park Ron in the aisle and sit next to him.
I got pretty dizzy, though. For some reason it only happens at church, and one reason I sit in the second row - I may need to grab onto the seat back in front! I still feel fair to partly crappy, disoriented, dizzy, and weak. Not fun.
Anyway, nice people sitting around us. The pastor's wife came over and hugged us after the service. I thought that was really sweet.
Afterward, I rolled Ron away, very carefully, clutching the wheelchair handles like a walker because I was afraid I'd lose my balance. I thought I was "fronting" OK, presenting a nice healthy image, but apparently not. One of the elders came over and asked if I was OK.
I gave a partial explanation "I take some pretty toxic medication [unsaid, because I'm bipolar with schitzo on top!], and it's hitting me hard today." They may think I'm on pain meds, or something.
Ron made a good point, you don't need to go in there and tell them everything, first off.
I found it disturbing, at the other church, the pastor kept preaching - a lot, lately - on how "You don't need psychiatric medication, you just need Jesus!" Yes, I need Jesus for salvation, I absolutely need my toxic meds to be fit for the public, and to keep from killing myself and others. I never addressed it with him because I find the "faith versus meds" argument to be very painful.
People tend to point fingers and act like I'm weak - then, if I show all my scars, they grudgingly "give me permission" to take my meds, with the strong implication I'm just not as strong. Honey, you have no idea what I've fought. I'm a lot stronger than you'll ever know.
Let me make it clear: I don't need anyone's permission to take my medication. I have made it clear to everyone in my life: if you try to make me choose between medicated and you, "you" will lose. One of my Facebook friends found that out the hard way. Another has been unfollowed.
Like I said, it's painful, so I didn't address it. I had a really bad feeling he would have gone the "faith only" route and I would have had to leave the church anyway.
At any rate, I cannot have people telling me "You don't need your medication, Heather". I do. I will die without my medication.
If you're telling me to stop, you're trying to kill me and I will respond accordingly, by cutting you out of my life. Yes, I feel like crap. Yes, I know the meds are toxic. Yes, I know I will not live to my 80's, like my grandmothers. I'm OK with that.
I'll take a quality life.
So, after church, Ron suggested we get something to eat. I slowly and carefully rolled his wheelchair over to the Burger King. We ate lunch. I felt a little better but not much. We chatted for a while and went home.
Our neighbors had people over. Mexico was in the soccer games today; and lost. At any rate they had mowed our front yard again - they left the zinnias alone. They left a couple hours ago for church, I guess.
I considered going to bed early but I have not.
We have a very busy day tomorrow, and it starts very early.
I did some research, the park Ron suggested for a Handout is in the midst of a truly terrible neighborhood. They even had a couple murders.
I think it will be good for a Handout.
Saturday, June 28, 2014
"I have to sell this"
I slept pretty well last night and woke up exhausted.
Ron and I had to go to the warehouse and purchase supplies. At one point he made a comment because I was a little mentally foggy. As I shopped, I figured out what had upset me about it and how I would approach it.
When I did, I told him: "Ron, remember a couple months ago when you felt like my symptoms were not doing very well? You asked me to see if I could increase my doses?" He agreed.
"Remember when I told you I would have to make sacrifices for that, and I'd get 'dumber'? I already feel bad about that. When you make comments I just find it hurtful. You don't get it both ways - you get symptom control, but only if I'm foggier."
Ron agreed and apologized.
For whatever reason, he seems to take my illness as an attack on him - when I'm sick, God is attacking him in particular, and both of us in gneral. Huh? I'm just repeating.
Anyway, moving on. I got some of the inventory. They didn't have any jalapeno chips, again. The customers will not be happy. I have another source, though.
I got a case of BBQ chips; one of Original Ruffles; a "big hot mix" - large serving size hot chips, an assortment; and a plain variety mix. Two people have asked for plain fritos now. The variety pack has 10 bags and I need to fill some coils. I got it.
I also got some Cracker Jack, mainly as a coil filler - it's a slow seller but it's a good food cost, provides variety, and does have a few fans.
Pastry: I bought powdered sugar donuts, chocolate donuts, conchas (fantastic food cost and the construction workers like them - also a good coil filler), and chocolate cupcakes. I got a ton of honeybuns the other day. We should be OK on that.
Here's a small gripe. The chips and pastry are shipped flat, so why do the cashiers (some of them) insist on putting them sideways in the cart? When they do that with the pastry the pastries slip and are damaged. I've had to do a little restructuring, smoothing out the pastry in the wrapper, before I stock.
Today I realized it's my inventory. So I requested her to please lay everything flat in the shopping cart. She got a small attitude, and I'm sure she thinks I'm a bitch, but like I said "I wouldn't care if I was going to eat it, but I have to sell this."
We came home. I made a place for everything by the door. It's close at hand but Ron won't squash it. It must be so strange to be married to a sighted man.
You're probably think it's strange being married to a blind man.
A minute ago, Ron was watching some conspiracy theory commercial advertising a website. I told him I wasn't interested in checking it out.
"If the government is spying on us," I told him "What can we do about it?" Nothing. He pouted a little but shut up.
I can run paranoid. I try to avoid all that stuff.
Just like I'm prone to anxiety, so I stopped watching things that made me anxious. I don't need it.
I could worry about dozens of work-related things. Is the coffee machine still working? Are the other machines OK? Did the food machine go down during the thunderstorm?
I could live my life consumed by paranoia and anxiety, but I don't have to accept that life. My maternal grandmother was, by all accounts, a very paranoid, anxious, and bitter woman who didn't know the meaning of "forgiveness".
I'm sure you won't believe me: this woman was so awful, that at one point my own mother (birthmother), tied her up, in the basement, to a support beam, and gave her a coffee can to use as a toilet. Dad was out of town.
Apparently "grandma" had come to visit me as a baby and they clashed. As I type this I conclude: perhaps my mother felt the woman had threatened me in some way.
My older sister (in her late teens) released grandma and drove her to the bus station. That's the kind of life I'd have without medication, if I allow paranoia and anxiety to consume me.
My sister wanted me to reconnect. I wrote the woman a letter. She was very upset I had married a black man, and disowned me. Fine.
I don't want that life.
I have another relative, diagnosed bipolar in her elder years, always a very anxious woman. I don't want that life. She was a nice lady but I have to wonder what her life would have been, if she'd gotten diagnosed, taken her medication, gotten saved, and rejected anxious thoughts.
Trust me, I understand anxiety attacks. I get them sometimes if I have too much soda around a Bible Handout. I have huge anxiety issues around traffic, a post-traumatic thing resulting from Ron's accident.
I had to stare at him every day. It was ghastly. Ron says it so blase "I didn't have a forehead".
He didn't have a forehead. All the skin was scraped completely off his forehead. He had roadrash everywhere from his nose to his feet. His head was split open on the windshield and stapled back together. His right tibia was broken into 3 pieces, his ribs crushed, a lung collapsed, a kidney lacerated and bleeding. He was covered in bruises, moaning in pain constantly, connected to every machine in the world.... and all I could do was watch.
For weeks.
That scarred me.
Sometimes, I'm standing on that median and everything seems to swirl around me, traffic everywhere, and I feel so dizzy I worry I'll fall over. Othertimes I freeze and have to "unstick" myself to get moving again. Oddly, I never worry about Ron out there with me.
I understand anxiety; so whenever possible, I do not receive it.
The way I see it, the emotion arrives, presents itself. Medication (just your basic mood stabilizers, antidepressant, and antipsychotic) allows me to either accept (small mania with a desire to organize) or reject (anxiety with a desire to freak out).
Thank God for medication.
Maybe I don't give myself, or my faith, enough credit there. I don't know. It's all a holistic package. Me, my faith, my medication.
In that order.
I was pretty exhausted when we got home, as tired as if I'd worked a 12-hour day. I took a nap.
We woke up and went out to lunch. The waitress really liked my hair. A storm front came through right at pickup time so we got pretty drenched.
"Thank God it's summertime!" I told our driver. "Winter would really suck!"
He agreed. When we got home, I gave him a Drumstick Sundae Cone. They are very popular with the drivers. I'm glad I got them.
The driver always sits outside for a good 5 minutes, gobbling away.
I love to spoil people.
I took my meds, and another nap, because it's my day off. I'm going to have to mow out back, though. All that rain is really making the grass grow.
Ron and I had to go to the warehouse and purchase supplies. At one point he made a comment because I was a little mentally foggy. As I shopped, I figured out what had upset me about it and how I would approach it.
When I did, I told him: "Ron, remember a couple months ago when you felt like my symptoms were not doing very well? You asked me to see if I could increase my doses?" He agreed.
"Remember when I told you I would have to make sacrifices for that, and I'd get 'dumber'? I already feel bad about that. When you make comments I just find it hurtful. You don't get it both ways - you get symptom control, but only if I'm foggier."
Ron agreed and apologized.
For whatever reason, he seems to take my illness as an attack on him - when I'm sick, God is attacking him in particular, and both of us in gneral. Huh? I'm just repeating.
Anyway, moving on. I got some of the inventory. They didn't have any jalapeno chips, again. The customers will not be happy. I have another source, though.
I got a case of BBQ chips; one of Original Ruffles; a "big hot mix" - large serving size hot chips, an assortment; and a plain variety mix. Two people have asked for plain fritos now. The variety pack has 10 bags and I need to fill some coils. I got it.
I also got some Cracker Jack, mainly as a coil filler - it's a slow seller but it's a good food cost, provides variety, and does have a few fans.
Pastry: I bought powdered sugar donuts, chocolate donuts, conchas (fantastic food cost and the construction workers like them - also a good coil filler), and chocolate cupcakes. I got a ton of honeybuns the other day. We should be OK on that.
Here's a small gripe. The chips and pastry are shipped flat, so why do the cashiers (some of them) insist on putting them sideways in the cart? When they do that with the pastry the pastries slip and are damaged. I've had to do a little restructuring, smoothing out the pastry in the wrapper, before I stock.
Today I realized it's my inventory. So I requested her to please lay everything flat in the shopping cart. She got a small attitude, and I'm sure she thinks I'm a bitch, but like I said "I wouldn't care if I was going to eat it, but I have to sell this."
We came home. I made a place for everything by the door. It's close at hand but Ron won't squash it. It must be so strange to be married to a sighted man.
You're probably think it's strange being married to a blind man.
A minute ago, Ron was watching some conspiracy theory commercial advertising a website. I told him I wasn't interested in checking it out.
"If the government is spying on us," I told him "What can we do about it?" Nothing. He pouted a little but shut up.
I can run paranoid. I try to avoid all that stuff.
Just like I'm prone to anxiety, so I stopped watching things that made me anxious. I don't need it.
I could worry about dozens of work-related things. Is the coffee machine still working? Are the other machines OK? Did the food machine go down during the thunderstorm?
I could live my life consumed by paranoia and anxiety, but I don't have to accept that life. My maternal grandmother was, by all accounts, a very paranoid, anxious, and bitter woman who didn't know the meaning of "forgiveness".
I'm sure you won't believe me: this woman was so awful, that at one point my own mother (birthmother), tied her up, in the basement, to a support beam, and gave her a coffee can to use as a toilet. Dad was out of town.
Apparently "grandma" had come to visit me as a baby and they clashed. As I type this I conclude: perhaps my mother felt the woman had threatened me in some way.
My older sister (in her late teens) released grandma and drove her to the bus station. That's the kind of life I'd have without medication, if I allow paranoia and anxiety to consume me.
My sister wanted me to reconnect. I wrote the woman a letter. She was very upset I had married a black man, and disowned me. Fine.
I don't want that life.
I have another relative, diagnosed bipolar in her elder years, always a very anxious woman. I don't want that life. She was a nice lady but I have to wonder what her life would have been, if she'd gotten diagnosed, taken her medication, gotten saved, and rejected anxious thoughts.
Trust me, I understand anxiety attacks. I get them sometimes if I have too much soda around a Bible Handout. I have huge anxiety issues around traffic, a post-traumatic thing resulting from Ron's accident.
I had to stare at him every day. It was ghastly. Ron says it so blase "I didn't have a forehead".
He didn't have a forehead. All the skin was scraped completely off his forehead. He had roadrash everywhere from his nose to his feet. His head was split open on the windshield and stapled back together. His right tibia was broken into 3 pieces, his ribs crushed, a lung collapsed, a kidney lacerated and bleeding. He was covered in bruises, moaning in pain constantly, connected to every machine in the world.... and all I could do was watch.
For weeks.
That scarred me.
Sometimes, I'm standing on that median and everything seems to swirl around me, traffic everywhere, and I feel so dizzy I worry I'll fall over. Othertimes I freeze and have to "unstick" myself to get moving again. Oddly, I never worry about Ron out there with me.
I understand anxiety; so whenever possible, I do not receive it.
The way I see it, the emotion arrives, presents itself. Medication (just your basic mood stabilizers, antidepressant, and antipsychotic) allows me to either accept (small mania with a desire to organize) or reject (anxiety with a desire to freak out).
Thank God for medication.
Maybe I don't give myself, or my faith, enough credit there. I don't know. It's all a holistic package. Me, my faith, my medication.
In that order.
I was pretty exhausted when we got home, as tired as if I'd worked a 12-hour day. I took a nap.
We woke up and went out to lunch. The waitress really liked my hair. A storm front came through right at pickup time so we got pretty drenched.
"Thank God it's summertime!" I told our driver. "Winter would really suck!"
He agreed. When we got home, I gave him a Drumstick Sundae Cone. They are very popular with the drivers. I'm glad I got them.
The driver always sits outside for a good 5 minutes, gobbling away.
I love to spoil people.
I took my meds, and another nap, because it's my day off. I'm going to have to mow out back, though. All that rain is really making the grass grow.
Friday, June 27, 2014
Drama free life
I forgot to mention a couple other highlights of the day.
First, I woke up with a migraine, in the middle of the night. I took some Excedrin and managed to get back to sleep.
However, when I woke up the headache was definitely present. A hot shower didn't help, so I took some more Excedrin (about 7 hours after the first dose).
The headache didn't leave until around 3 PM.
Secondly, we have some interesting people at work. One's always demanding we sell unsellable products. If I'm dumb enough to stock them, he doesn't want them anymore.
I had a lot more to say but I realized it could be read.
I aim for a drama free life. :)
First, I woke up with a migraine, in the middle of the night. I took some Excedrin and managed to get back to sleep.
However, when I woke up the headache was definitely present. A hot shower didn't help, so I took some more Excedrin (about 7 hours after the first dose).
The headache didn't leave until around 3 PM.
Secondly, we have some interesting people at work. One's always demanding we sell unsellable products. If I'm dumb enough to stock them, he doesn't want them anymore.
I had a lot more to say but I realized it could be read.
I aim for a drama free life. :)
Gift from God
"Your vending machine is broken"
I know.
"Hey, your vending machine is broken!"
Yes, I know.
"You need to fix your machine, it's tipping over."
Yes, I know. The guy is 5 minutes away!
It was an exhausting day.
It started out well. We had a later pickup so I slept in until 7. We went to the warehouse, where I got my snacks.
Then we arrived at work, and I found snack 2, my baby, tipping over due to a missing leg. Snack machines sit on 4 legs, mine had one completely out of the socket and laying on the floor (thank God it was still there). I stuck it in my pocket, thanking God my repairman was coming at 2 (we arrived around 1).
Then I had over a dozen people tell me the machine was broken, it was a safety issue, I had to fix it. I kept telling them I had a guy coming at 2. They finally went away.
I had mixed emotions seeing an ice machine slotted in next to our bottled vendor, which had been moved - a violation of our contract because the machines are delicate. Sure enough, the bottled vendor was broken, the flapper was hanging down and some loose parts in the bottom of the machine.
I was upset. I commend management on their decision to provide their own ice machine for the postal workers. I understand that area was the only one with a water line, and a good outlet. I would have been OK with them slotting it in. I am unhappy because it will hurt our cold drink sales, but we can't stop them.
I was not OK with them moving our machines, without permission, and breaking a $5000 vending machine!
The machines belong to the State Blind Vendors program. Ron and I only own the inventory.
We called the boss. He was NOT HAPPY (with them, for moving it). I made sure to tell the maintenence guys someone had broken my machine, moving it.
I stocked what I could and made the machines look as good as possible, except for the broken snack with the missing leg, which I didn't touch. Some idiot came along while I was talking to an admin, and started shoving the machine, making it wobble. I kept telling him to leave it alone, it was a safety issue, LEAVE IT ALONE! IT'S BROKEN! The admin told him to stop and he finally did. Next time I will take out my cell phone and video him, and my requests to stop, then share with his supervisor.
AGH.
Another maintenence guy came by and told me my machine was broken, as I stood in front of it. I smiled tightly and said "Thank you, I know". I finally put one of my handcarts, loaded with supplies, in front of the broken machine.
Praise God, the phone rang. It was our guy. For the record, he is Latino.
Imagine my horror when I went out and saw police arresting a Latino guy at the front gate! I was horrified, thinking it was my repairman!
Thank God, it wasn't.
He came in. I presented the snack machine leg and begged him to get that first. He fixed it. I found a maintenence guy who'd been pestering me and took him over to the machine.
"Is it fixed?" I asked.
Yeah, looks fine.
"Go back and tell them, please."
OK, and he left.
Our guy got to work on the coffee machine. He told us he got the last valve from the big warehouse. Thank God.
He made loads of coffee and it all looked and tasted fine. Good.
Then I had him "look" at the broken bottled vendor. "Just give us an idea what it'll cost, so we can tell [the boss]"
I showed him the parts I'd found, and kept. He got to work and said "I don't know..."
Oh, I replied. I guess I'll have to call the other guy.
Wait a minute... and he got to work. He fixed it. We still need a part which is on order but it is vending properly most of the time.
3 machines fixed.
I think this guy is a gift from God. The boss was thrilled when I called and told him everything was working. "I still sent some e-mails" he said, grimly.
We both know it could have had a much less happy ending.
I know.
"Hey, your vending machine is broken!"
Yes, I know.
"You need to fix your machine, it's tipping over."
Yes, I know. The guy is 5 minutes away!
It was an exhausting day.
It started out well. We had a later pickup so I slept in until 7. We went to the warehouse, where I got my snacks.
Then we arrived at work, and I found snack 2, my baby, tipping over due to a missing leg. Snack machines sit on 4 legs, mine had one completely out of the socket and laying on the floor (thank God it was still there). I stuck it in my pocket, thanking God my repairman was coming at 2 (we arrived around 1).
Then I had over a dozen people tell me the machine was broken, it was a safety issue, I had to fix it. I kept telling them I had a guy coming at 2. They finally went away.
I had mixed emotions seeing an ice machine slotted in next to our bottled vendor, which had been moved - a violation of our contract because the machines are delicate. Sure enough, the bottled vendor was broken, the flapper was hanging down and some loose parts in the bottom of the machine.
I was upset. I commend management on their decision to provide their own ice machine for the postal workers. I understand that area was the only one with a water line, and a good outlet. I would have been OK with them slotting it in. I am unhappy because it will hurt our cold drink sales, but we can't stop them.
I was not OK with them moving our machines, without permission, and breaking a $5000 vending machine!
The machines belong to the State Blind Vendors program. Ron and I only own the inventory.
We called the boss. He was NOT HAPPY (with them, for moving it). I made sure to tell the maintenence guys someone had broken my machine, moving it.
I stocked what I could and made the machines look as good as possible, except for the broken snack with the missing leg, which I didn't touch. Some idiot came along while I was talking to an admin, and started shoving the machine, making it wobble. I kept telling him to leave it alone, it was a safety issue, LEAVE IT ALONE! IT'S BROKEN! The admin told him to stop and he finally did. Next time I will take out my cell phone and video him, and my requests to stop, then share with his supervisor.
AGH.
Another maintenence guy came by and told me my machine was broken, as I stood in front of it. I smiled tightly and said "Thank you, I know". I finally put one of my handcarts, loaded with supplies, in front of the broken machine.
Praise God, the phone rang. It was our guy. For the record, he is Latino.
Imagine my horror when I went out and saw police arresting a Latino guy at the front gate! I was horrified, thinking it was my repairman!
Thank God, it wasn't.
He came in. I presented the snack machine leg and begged him to get that first. He fixed it. I found a maintenence guy who'd been pestering me and took him over to the machine.
"Is it fixed?" I asked.
Yeah, looks fine.
"Go back and tell them, please."
OK, and he left.
Our guy got to work on the coffee machine. He told us he got the last valve from the big warehouse. Thank God.
He made loads of coffee and it all looked and tasted fine. Good.
Then I had him "look" at the broken bottled vendor. "Just give us an idea what it'll cost, so we can tell [the boss]"
I showed him the parts I'd found, and kept. He got to work and said "I don't know..."
Oh, I replied. I guess I'll have to call the other guy.
Wait a minute... and he got to work. He fixed it. We still need a part which is on order but it is vending properly most of the time.
3 machines fixed.
I think this guy is a gift from God. The boss was thrilled when I called and told him everything was working. "I still sent some e-mails" he said, grimly.
We both know it could have had a much less happy ending.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
I can't stop looking out the window.
There's something in my yard.
Ron, as I mentioned, had a bad night. I didn't receive any drama - I just ignored him and went to bed. He made noise for about an hour and a half but that was it.
This morning, I didn't do the shrieky thing - I just said, you need to figure out what you did wrong, so you don't repeat it. I mentioned the vodka seemed awfully accessible, maybe he could put it in the tool cabinet (you have to bend over and reach). He was amenable. I plugged in his cell phone, which I found on the floor.
Basically, I acted as Jesus would, and not hateful. I think I did good.
I was a little alarmed when I looked outside for the cats. Last night, the yard gang found some fake pink crocs in the yard. They placed them on some cinderblocks I had set up as a watch post for the cats. Cats like to get up on high things and survey their domain.
"It's an outside kitty condo" I told Ron.
Baby Girl loves those blocks. I took the shoes off the top, and put them inside the holes on the top block. This morning, one shoe was dragged almost completely across the yard.
A cat didn't do that. It must have been a *larger mammal* - a raccoon or 'possum. [shudder] That's walking around in my yard, near my cats... ugh.
I did my blog and made my list. I found a really awesome bra at Walmart a few weeks back, it's a sport bra with good wicking materials, no underwire, but support. It was priced at nearly $10, but rang at 7, which to me indicates it may be a clearance item. I pray not. I plan to at least hunt, today.
I can't stop looking out the window. It looks so nice.
[huge sigh] Not only did they clean it up, but they're going to maintain it. Praise God!
Huge, huge, load off my back.
Now I'm just waiting to run to Walmart.
Ron, as I mentioned, had a bad night. I didn't receive any drama - I just ignored him and went to bed. He made noise for about an hour and a half but that was it.
This morning, I didn't do the shrieky thing - I just said, you need to figure out what you did wrong, so you don't repeat it. I mentioned the vodka seemed awfully accessible, maybe he could put it in the tool cabinet (you have to bend over and reach). He was amenable. I plugged in his cell phone, which I found on the floor.
Basically, I acted as Jesus would, and not hateful. I think I did good.
I was a little alarmed when I looked outside for the cats. Last night, the yard gang found some fake pink crocs in the yard. They placed them on some cinderblocks I had set up as a watch post for the cats. Cats like to get up on high things and survey their domain.
"It's an outside kitty condo" I told Ron.
Baby Girl loves those blocks. I took the shoes off the top, and put them inside the holes on the top block. This morning, one shoe was dragged almost completely across the yard.
A cat didn't do that. It must have been a *larger mammal* - a raccoon or 'possum. [shudder] That's walking around in my yard, near my cats... ugh.
I did my blog and made my list. I found a really awesome bra at Walmart a few weeks back, it's a sport bra with good wicking materials, no underwire, but support. It was priced at nearly $10, but rang at 7, which to me indicates it may be a clearance item. I pray not. I plan to at least hunt, today.
I can't stop looking out the window. It looks so nice.
[huge sigh] Not only did they clean it up, but they're going to maintain it. Praise God!
Huge, huge, load off my back.
Now I'm just waiting to run to Walmart.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
No cost
My aunt is the family "fixer"/social worker. She's the first number you call when the house burns down or you need a place to spend the night. One guest stayed for a year.
I made a rather frantic phone call as she lunched with a friend "We hired these guys to take away the clippings in the street, but now they're in the backyard mowing... I hear a chainsaw! They keep dragging trash out and throwing it in the truck! I didn't ask for this! How can I pay for it?"
She gave me a little counsel and hung up.
My backyard was pretty awful. They worked for an hour, and then rang the doorbell.
I couldn't talk to Ron, he was, ah - unavailable. I scrounged up everything in my wallet and awaited the knock on the door.
I knew we had, ah, a language barrier. I just hoped I could afford the cleanup, whatever it cost.
The man knocked on the door and took me on a tour of the yard. It had been transformed from an overgrown nightmare (particularly my garden area), into a lovely, clean, space you could put on the market. I was shocked.
"No cost" he said.
WHAT?
His daughter translated. They like to help out people in need, now and then. The elderly and people with disabilities. My husband was both, and they would now be donating yard services for the forseeable future!
I gaped, very unattractively I'm sure. The yard has been a huge stone around my neck. I have fatigue issues due to medication, and virtually nothing left after a day at work and caring for Ron. I have 2 broken lawnmowers in the garage. I love the space, the privacy, and the room for my cats to play...but I can't keep up with the yardwork. Now they'd take the baton and run with it, leaving me free (little do they know) to work on more evangelism with the energy I've got.
They must be saved. They must. I can't believe it.
When Ron was better, he asked how I'd paid the yard crew. I told him. He was shocked. "Ron" I told him "We put so much out there every day. People want to give back, people want to help. He's doing this because he admires and respects you. Allow him to do it. You can offer to pay him every time."
Ron acquiesed.
The yard guy was referred to us by a man at work. A man, I'm sure, who had a lot to say about Ron working in spite of it all, and some pretty brutal hours at that.
It doesn't matter why they did it. It doesn't matter if I deserve it, or don't. I am always shocked when people do nice things for me, but I'm getting better at saying "Thank you" and accepting.
Oh, I've dreamed of having a yard guy, but we couldn't afford it. Now it doesn't matter!
Yay!
I can't stop looking out the window!
I made a rather frantic phone call as she lunched with a friend "We hired these guys to take away the clippings in the street, but now they're in the backyard mowing... I hear a chainsaw! They keep dragging trash out and throwing it in the truck! I didn't ask for this! How can I pay for it?"
She gave me a little counsel and hung up.
My backyard was pretty awful. They worked for an hour, and then rang the doorbell.
I couldn't talk to Ron, he was, ah - unavailable. I scrounged up everything in my wallet and awaited the knock on the door.
I knew we had, ah, a language barrier. I just hoped I could afford the cleanup, whatever it cost.
The man knocked on the door and took me on a tour of the yard. It had been transformed from an overgrown nightmare (particularly my garden area), into a lovely, clean, space you could put on the market. I was shocked.
"No cost" he said.
WHAT?
His daughter translated. They like to help out people in need, now and then. The elderly and people with disabilities. My husband was both, and they would now be donating yard services for the forseeable future!
I gaped, very unattractively I'm sure. The yard has been a huge stone around my neck. I have fatigue issues due to medication, and virtually nothing left after a day at work and caring for Ron. I have 2 broken lawnmowers in the garage. I love the space, the privacy, and the room for my cats to play...but I can't keep up with the yardwork. Now they'd take the baton and run with it, leaving me free (little do they know) to work on more evangelism with the energy I've got.
They must be saved. They must. I can't believe it.
When Ron was better, he asked how I'd paid the yard crew. I told him. He was shocked. "Ron" I told him "We put so much out there every day. People want to give back, people want to help. He's doing this because he admires and respects you. Allow him to do it. You can offer to pay him every time."
Ron acquiesed.
The yard guy was referred to us by a man at work. A man, I'm sure, who had a lot to say about Ron working in spite of it all, and some pretty brutal hours at that.
It doesn't matter why they did it. It doesn't matter if I deserve it, or don't. I am always shocked when people do nice things for me, but I'm getting better at saying "Thank you" and accepting.
Oh, I've dreamed of having a yard guy, but we couldn't afford it. Now it doesn't matter!
Yay!
I can't stop looking out the window!
Give me a ghetto
I'm pretty exhausted.
Monday we got up very early, went to work. We had planned to do all stocking possible, then go to the warehouse.
The other vendor just sits in his stockroom, twice a week, for a couple hours each time. Ron and I have had a policy where I use Ron as my escort. The man behaves when Ron's around because he knows he can't blame me if I have a witness - when he's the one who verbally abused (on one case, physically shoved me against a wall) me. Ron will not tolerate that behavior, either.
The other vendor seemed pretty placid, so I foolishly thought I could go in our shared stockroom alone. He immediately started yelling and trying to pick fights, so I left. After that, I had Ron with me every time and he acted like a sweet little lamb.
I get it - it's not fun to work with mentally unstable people, myself included, but the guy can be outright scary. I may say oddball things, get a little hyper now and then, or walk around depressed, but I'll do anything for my customers and they know it. My machines are full, everything works, and everyone's greeted with a smile.
The other vendor even told us, if something happened to us, he'd try to sue and steal our business, rather than give it to another blind vendor.
Hey, buddy, nothing in this world is promised. He made thousands a month, coming in and working 6-8 hours a week (and a few more at home). Great. Well, those days are over.
God chose to bless us, instead. We aren't being ugly about it but we're not going to hand it over, either.
I don't want fights but this guy is going out of his way to pick them. Not to mention that tense, itchy feeling I get in my back, around him, knowing just now much he would love to stick a knife in it, if possible. Ugh.
I have no problem with his people. We go out of our way to take care of each other.
I had hoped "the other vendor" would learn God's lesson, humility - because he has been very haughty for a long time (note to self, don't do that). Instead, he is getting bitter and vengeful. Disturbing, especially since we work in literal close quarters.
So, after all that tension it was actually nice to escape to the warehouse. We had our guy-with-a-truck.
I bought a lot of stuff and started loading. Our friend helped, and a nice Spanish fellow. I tried to give the second guy some money but he declined. Very nice, thank you.
We got to work and I got it all unloaded, then put it up in the stockroom. But wait, I had to stock the new snack items I'd bought because snacks really needed some work.
I did, but by the time we left I was exhausted.
Annnd, it was pouring rain. Ron was very angry at God. He wasn't worried about getting wet, he was worried about the driver getting wet. He knows black women's hair doesn't tolerate the rain. Since we'd only had 30% chance of rain forecast, it was doubtful the driver would have "Protection".
Happily, as our driver told him "I'm wearing a big ol' purple wig today!"
She was, and she rocked it.
We got home fine.
Yesterday we went to Walmart and came home. Then we went to Southwest Houston and did a Bible handout.
Not my best.
I handed out 12 total.
1 to a guy who said he had to "do a home energy audit" and inspect my appliances. I declined and gave him a Bible.
I gave one to the driver, who took us there, a very long trip. One highlight - our discussion of the differences between white hair, and black (racial). Ron got a little carsick in the back.
We finally got there. I handed out 1 Bible to a middle eastern lady, who was shocked when I refused the money she offered. I handed out 4 to black individuals, and 4 to spanish folk. That's about standard (half black, half latino) for a regular handout.
A chaplain told me he really liked what I was doing. I told him I want other people to have what I have.
The median was awful, forcing me to walk in the street in places. That triggered some anxiety which had me cursing myself for my earlier caffeine intake. It had looked OK, but I was wrong.
9 Bibles in an hour - a record. But 9 people got Bibles. Actually we were up to 11. I gave another one to a guy I saw picking garbage. I was impressed. He threw the trash out of the dumpster, collected his cans, and then put the trash back in the dumpster. That exhibited a thoughtfulness that really spoke to me. He was happy to get it, too.
If I hand out one Bible it's a good handout.
We ate and went home, exhausted. I did put up a request for really bad neighborhoods. From what I saw, I had a lot of suits, in very expensive vehicles, going home to the suburbs. They did not want Jesus.
Give me a ghetto, please. The ghetto loves a Bible Handout.
Monday we got up very early, went to work. We had planned to do all stocking possible, then go to the warehouse.
The other vendor just sits in his stockroom, twice a week, for a couple hours each time. Ron and I have had a policy where I use Ron as my escort. The man behaves when Ron's around because he knows he can't blame me if I have a witness - when he's the one who verbally abused (on one case, physically shoved me against a wall) me. Ron will not tolerate that behavior, either.
The other vendor seemed pretty placid, so I foolishly thought I could go in our shared stockroom alone. He immediately started yelling and trying to pick fights, so I left. After that, I had Ron with me every time and he acted like a sweet little lamb.
I get it - it's not fun to work with mentally unstable people, myself included, but the guy can be outright scary. I may say oddball things, get a little hyper now and then, or walk around depressed, but I'll do anything for my customers and they know it. My machines are full, everything works, and everyone's greeted with a smile.
The other vendor even told us, if something happened to us, he'd try to sue and steal our business, rather than give it to another blind vendor.
Hey, buddy, nothing in this world is promised. He made thousands a month, coming in and working 6-8 hours a week (and a few more at home). Great. Well, those days are over.
God chose to bless us, instead. We aren't being ugly about it but we're not going to hand it over, either.
I don't want fights but this guy is going out of his way to pick them. Not to mention that tense, itchy feeling I get in my back, around him, knowing just now much he would love to stick a knife in it, if possible. Ugh.
I have no problem with his people. We go out of our way to take care of each other.
I had hoped "the other vendor" would learn God's lesson, humility - because he has been very haughty for a long time (note to self, don't do that). Instead, he is getting bitter and vengeful. Disturbing, especially since we work in literal close quarters.
So, after all that tension it was actually nice to escape to the warehouse. We had our guy-with-a-truck.
I bought a lot of stuff and started loading. Our friend helped, and a nice Spanish fellow. I tried to give the second guy some money but he declined. Very nice, thank you.
We got to work and I got it all unloaded, then put it up in the stockroom. But wait, I had to stock the new snack items I'd bought because snacks really needed some work.
I did, but by the time we left I was exhausted.
Annnd, it was pouring rain. Ron was very angry at God. He wasn't worried about getting wet, he was worried about the driver getting wet. He knows black women's hair doesn't tolerate the rain. Since we'd only had 30% chance of rain forecast, it was doubtful the driver would have "Protection".
Happily, as our driver told him "I'm wearing a big ol' purple wig today!"
She was, and she rocked it.
We got home fine.
Yesterday we went to Walmart and came home. Then we went to Southwest Houston and did a Bible handout.
Not my best.
I handed out 12 total.
1 to a guy who said he had to "do a home energy audit" and inspect my appliances. I declined and gave him a Bible.
I gave one to the driver, who took us there, a very long trip. One highlight - our discussion of the differences between white hair, and black (racial). Ron got a little carsick in the back.
We finally got there. I handed out 1 Bible to a middle eastern lady, who was shocked when I refused the money she offered. I handed out 4 to black individuals, and 4 to spanish folk. That's about standard (half black, half latino) for a regular handout.
A chaplain told me he really liked what I was doing. I told him I want other people to have what I have.
The median was awful, forcing me to walk in the street in places. That triggered some anxiety which had me cursing myself for my earlier caffeine intake. It had looked OK, but I was wrong.
9 Bibles in an hour - a record. But 9 people got Bibles. Actually we were up to 11. I gave another one to a guy I saw picking garbage. I was impressed. He threw the trash out of the dumpster, collected his cans, and then put the trash back in the dumpster. That exhibited a thoughtfulness that really spoke to me. He was happy to get it, too.
If I hand out one Bible it's a good handout.
We ate and went home, exhausted. I did put up a request for really bad neighborhoods. From what I saw, I had a lot of suits, in very expensive vehicles, going home to the suburbs. They did not want Jesus.
Give me a ghetto, please. The ghetto loves a Bible Handout.
Monday, June 23, 2014
Video
Pretty exhausted, I'll do a big post tomorrow.
I do have a video of Ron coming up the driveway. One day I was unloading groceries and the driver left Ron at the base of the driveway. I had planned to push/roll him up to the door.
However, when I turned around he had done this and gotten himself to the door.
Impressive. I love his spirit.
I do have a video of Ron coming up the driveway. One day I was unloading groceries and the driver left Ron at the base of the driveway. I had planned to push/roll him up to the door.
However, when I turned around he had done this and gotten himself to the door.
Impressive. I love his spirit.
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Bible Handouts in the ghetto
Ron was up all night with horrific neuropathy.
I didn't think he'd want to go, but he did.
It was great.
I have a huge desire to compare the two churches, but I won't. They're both good churches with good people.
That said, one is in the Metrolift service area. Ron had talked to one guy from the church on Friday night. Today the man walked right up to Ron, grabbed his hand, and called him by name. Ron loved it.
Everyone was very friendly and accepting. A mixed-race blind man in a wheelchair might not be welcome at some churches, but they were great. They get an A plus. Ron brought a small photo book - he likes to show it to new people so they can get a better understanding. They all looked at it, exclaiming over the photos.
We got there early, so we had some time to "visit". No one ran screaming when they heard about Bible Handouts in the ghetto.
I liked the layout of the "meet and greet" area - it was expansive and very welcoming. I had an easy time parking Ron and finding my own seat.
I had an easy time parking Ron in the sanctuary and the service was similar to the others. Different songs, but that's a small thing. I'm tone-deaf anyway, so it's just a matter of what song I'm murdering.
Ron was thrilled when I told him the church parking lot (strip mall) is shared with a Burger King. He begged me to get him a Whopper, after church. I found one of the "elders" (I guess that's what they are in the Calvary Church) and told him I wasn't abandoning Ron, but getting him lunch. I left Ron outside at his request and got him lunch.
When I came back, a woman was flipping through the photo book, crouched down at Ron's side. We introduced ourselves and she left.
I excitedly told Ron the corner would be perfect for a Bible Handout. "They even have a ramp!" I'll see if God wants that. I would love to work a new area.
We had some traffic on the way home but Ron and I agreed this is great, we'll do it again.
I didn't think he'd want to go, but he did.
It was great.
I have a huge desire to compare the two churches, but I won't. They're both good churches with good people.
That said, one is in the Metrolift service area. Ron had talked to one guy from the church on Friday night. Today the man walked right up to Ron, grabbed his hand, and called him by name. Ron loved it.
Everyone was very friendly and accepting. A mixed-race blind man in a wheelchair might not be welcome at some churches, but they were great. They get an A plus. Ron brought a small photo book - he likes to show it to new people so they can get a better understanding. They all looked at it, exclaiming over the photos.
We got there early, so we had some time to "visit". No one ran screaming when they heard about Bible Handouts in the ghetto.
I liked the layout of the "meet and greet" area - it was expansive and very welcoming. I had an easy time parking Ron and finding my own seat.
I had an easy time parking Ron in the sanctuary and the service was similar to the others. Different songs, but that's a small thing. I'm tone-deaf anyway, so it's just a matter of what song I'm murdering.
Ron was thrilled when I told him the church parking lot (strip mall) is shared with a Burger King. He begged me to get him a Whopper, after church. I found one of the "elders" (I guess that's what they are in the Calvary Church) and told him I wasn't abandoning Ron, but getting him lunch. I left Ron outside at his request and got him lunch.
When I came back, a woman was flipping through the photo book, crouched down at Ron's side. We introduced ourselves and she left.
I excitedly told Ron the corner would be perfect for a Bible Handout. "They even have a ramp!" I'll see if God wants that. I would love to work a new area.
We had some traffic on the way home but Ron and I agreed this is great, we'll do it again.
Saturday, June 21, 2014
Gangster's Paradise
I realized something important: God's called me to hand out Bibles in Gangster's Paradise. He uses me all kinds of ways - today I gave a Prison Bible to a lady who's visiting a loved one in jail. I hand them out to drivers, to salesmen, but primarily to people in areas that make people pale.
God's chosen to have me live in a nice middle class neighborhood. The average Houston home is about 300K. The average home in my neighborhood is 90K. My home is valued around 50K. Yes, we have a mortgage! So, while I feel safe, and it's quiet, my home is about 15% the average home value. It's simple, modest, and mine. Thank you God.
I got up, shower, God Time. Found out the Bibles did arrive in South Dakota and are on their way to disaster relief. Good.
I loved seeing the photos of Frosty and Bubba up during my God Time and computer time. I love my boys, and I miss them. I don't know how they'll look in Heaven - will they be balls of light? Or look like cats? Who knows. But they're in God's care and that's the best place.
In the meantime I take care of my two girls, best I can. When I came home from work Torbie emerged from a cozy cardboard box I'd placed on the kitchen table. Not only is it completely enclosed (but for one side), it has catnip! Baby Girl wanted her tummy rub, as usual, when I produced Ron off the vehicle.
We had a lot of very long rides today. One of them, with a guy who had gossiped a lot about the driver who got in the wreck. "I almost knelt down and kissed the ground" I told Ron. "When we finally got out." He's a terrible driver! [big sigh]
We went to the warehouse, went to work, went home. All 3 were very long rides. The paratransit system sees more traffic on the weekend. I get that. I understand it's a shared ride service. But that one guy has got to go.
No, I won't report him. The way he's driving it's just a matter of time before he gets in a wreck, and fired. If anything, he was going slower than the other cars so it would probably be a fender-bender. It just makes me uncomfortable so close to the accident. I could have been mangled.
God's got plans, it didn't happen. It could have, though, and that's what freaks me out. That's the hard part of PTSD, the original trauma, whatever it is, is long gone, but it follows me around and haunts me (this is not my first flare).
I might talk to Doc about this - he knows my other issues, but not this. Maybe he can adjust something and help.
Anyway, sigh. Busy at work. We had a coin jam. Ron stocked drinks. I did snacks and food. I was busy. What I got today will hold us 'till Monday, and I have my all-important list.
Monday I get a delivery, stock, and guy-with-a-truck. Then, I presume, a lot of stocking.
Busy, busy.
Tomorrow we check out the "new" church. That should be fun.
I found it interesting. Ron had called and left a message asking about church hours. Someone (a man) called him back. They chatted. "My wife doesn't drive" Ron shared "Because she has Fetal Alcohol Syndrome..."
"Oh, I know about that," the guy replied. "That's tough." Oh, awesome, someone who gets it. I don't have to explain, and get the looks...
If I was looking for an omen I guess I found it.
Other than the terrifyingly bad driving, I only had one problem. We have a "bigmouth" customer who's always trying to tell me how to run the business. I had taken out my trash (a long walk both ways) and was coming back.
A group of clerks were standing around, waiting to start work. The guy corralled me and started complaining. "Why did you take out the Moon pies?"
First of all, I took them out weeks ago. You see me at least twice a week. You just now noticed? They were terrible sellers, for one. I told him "They were hanging up in the machine and ripping people off. I won't stock a product that rips people off."
He kept complaining. I waved at his coworkers. "Which ones would you like ripped off?" I had raised my voice just a little so they heard me. They waited for his reply. He had to mumble, he didn't want that to happen to anyone.
"You don't have any plain chips!" he complained.
"Yes I do" I replied, and started to tick them off.
"I meant plain fritos." I should add here, I don't worry too much about sales to this guy. He brings in a rolling luncbox the size of a kitchen cabinet, every day.
I'm not selling them, I told him. They don't sell. He whined. "You're the only one buying them. I'm in business to make money and I can't afford to stock something that doesn't sell."
Next time, and he'll bug me again, I'll suggest he "talk" to the other vendor, or leave a note on their machines. He can pester them for plain fritos.
Plain Fritos, by the way: I sold 10, in about 15 days.
I sell 15 Flaming Hot Cheetos, a day.
Which one would you stock?
God's chosen to have me live in a nice middle class neighborhood. The average Houston home is about 300K. The average home in my neighborhood is 90K. My home is valued around 50K. Yes, we have a mortgage! So, while I feel safe, and it's quiet, my home is about 15% the average home value. It's simple, modest, and mine. Thank you God.
I got up, shower, God Time. Found out the Bibles did arrive in South Dakota and are on their way to disaster relief. Good.
I loved seeing the photos of Frosty and Bubba up during my God Time and computer time. I love my boys, and I miss them. I don't know how they'll look in Heaven - will they be balls of light? Or look like cats? Who knows. But they're in God's care and that's the best place.
In the meantime I take care of my two girls, best I can. When I came home from work Torbie emerged from a cozy cardboard box I'd placed on the kitchen table. Not only is it completely enclosed (but for one side), it has catnip! Baby Girl wanted her tummy rub, as usual, when I produced Ron off the vehicle.
We had a lot of very long rides today. One of them, with a guy who had gossiped a lot about the driver who got in the wreck. "I almost knelt down and kissed the ground" I told Ron. "When we finally got out." He's a terrible driver! [big sigh]
We went to the warehouse, went to work, went home. All 3 were very long rides. The paratransit system sees more traffic on the weekend. I get that. I understand it's a shared ride service. But that one guy has got to go.
No, I won't report him. The way he's driving it's just a matter of time before he gets in a wreck, and fired. If anything, he was going slower than the other cars so it would probably be a fender-bender. It just makes me uncomfortable so close to the accident. I could have been mangled.
God's got plans, it didn't happen. It could have, though, and that's what freaks me out. That's the hard part of PTSD, the original trauma, whatever it is, is long gone, but it follows me around and haunts me (this is not my first flare).
I might talk to Doc about this - he knows my other issues, but not this. Maybe he can adjust something and help.
Anyway, sigh. Busy at work. We had a coin jam. Ron stocked drinks. I did snacks and food. I was busy. What I got today will hold us 'till Monday, and I have my all-important list.
Monday I get a delivery, stock, and guy-with-a-truck. Then, I presume, a lot of stocking.
Busy, busy.
Tomorrow we check out the "new" church. That should be fun.
I found it interesting. Ron had called and left a message asking about church hours. Someone (a man) called him back. They chatted. "My wife doesn't drive" Ron shared "Because she has Fetal Alcohol Syndrome..."
"Oh, I know about that," the guy replied. "That's tough." Oh, awesome, someone who gets it. I don't have to explain, and get the looks...
If I was looking for an omen I guess I found it.
Other than the terrifyingly bad driving, I only had one problem. We have a "bigmouth" customer who's always trying to tell me how to run the business. I had taken out my trash (a long walk both ways) and was coming back.
A group of clerks were standing around, waiting to start work. The guy corralled me and started complaining. "Why did you take out the Moon pies?"
First of all, I took them out weeks ago. You see me at least twice a week. You just now noticed? They were terrible sellers, for one. I told him "They were hanging up in the machine and ripping people off. I won't stock a product that rips people off."
He kept complaining. I waved at his coworkers. "Which ones would you like ripped off?" I had raised my voice just a little so they heard me. They waited for his reply. He had to mumble, he didn't want that to happen to anyone.
"You don't have any plain chips!" he complained.
"Yes I do" I replied, and started to tick them off.
"I meant plain fritos." I should add here, I don't worry too much about sales to this guy. He brings in a rolling luncbox the size of a kitchen cabinet, every day.
I'm not selling them, I told him. They don't sell. He whined. "You're the only one buying them. I'm in business to make money and I can't afford to stock something that doesn't sell."
Next time, and he'll bug me again, I'll suggest he "talk" to the other vendor, or leave a note on their machines. He can pester them for plain fritos.
Plain Fritos, by the way: I sold 10, in about 15 days.
I sell 15 Flaming Hot Cheetos, a day.
Which one would you stock?
Friday, June 20, 2014
I'm OK with that
"Your new wheelchair will fit in the bathroom" I told Ron "If you take the spring off the back of the door. You'll get another two inches."
"I don't want to get the wheelchair in the bathroom. I want to get better."
"I want that too, but even when you get better (I was careful not to say "if"), you tend to have periodic setbacks. You may need to fit the wheelchair in the bathroom."
It's interesting. I am normally very upbeat. However, when it comes to Ron's mobility I am a pessimist. I don't tell him that, of course (see above).
I had read a lot about Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) after his accident. I read a lot about hemmorhagic strokes (he had one affecting his right side). I talked to my aunt; her husband had suffered a nasty stroke about 9 years prior to Ron's accident.
Everything I learned pointed to one thing: I'd see a lot of improvement up to 6 months. Whatever progress Ron had made was likely to be "it".
I was encouraging and supportive, but did my best to be realistic. At 6 months, he was able to move the fingers of his right hand, but he has never been able to use them in a meaningful way. "That might be it" I told him. "I hope it isn't, though."
I teased Ron about running a half marathon with me, when he spoke of "getting my right side back". That, of course, never came to pass.
I'm OK with that. I married a blind man in a wheelchair. Many people assume Ron was fine when we married. Not hardly. I had to push him, in the wheelchair, over the thresh-hold on our honeymoon. I'm OK with that.
I'd rather assume "this is it and he'll decline" than walk around with my head up my.... and get a shock. That's one reason we bought a single-story home, easily navigated.
In fact, I had planned to rearrange the furniture. "No" Ron gasped. "I use the back of the couch to propel myself down the hall!" Oop! Glad I checked!
Our only problem has been the bathroom doorway. Ron can make that work, when the wheelchair comes in. I'm going to "let" him take the spring off the back of the door.
I know it's very painful for him to hobble in the bathroom. I thank God he can, but I think it will be a lot better if he can get his wheelchair in there.
Ron does not do well, pushed. I've learned, over 22 years, to make a suggestion and drop it. Answer questions when asked but no nagging, ever.
I find it sad, everyone acts like it's a big deal to push him in the wheelchair. It's not. It's easier than guiding him, especially when I'm heavily medicated. I like to push him.
People act like it's a big deal for me to fold up the wheelchair and put it away. It's not. It's part of the package. Ron pays the bills, I put up the wheelchair. God has blessed me with a strong body and I enjoy using it.
Ron acts like it's horrific to "make" me load 30 cases of soda onto a truck, and unload it when we get to our destination. While at our wholesaler, I saw a woman sigh and pick up a stack of printouts 2 inches thick. That, to me, is horrific.
Manual labor is nothing.
"I don't want to get the wheelchair in the bathroom. I want to get better."
"I want that too, but even when you get better (I was careful not to say "if"), you tend to have periodic setbacks. You may need to fit the wheelchair in the bathroom."
It's interesting. I am normally very upbeat. However, when it comes to Ron's mobility I am a pessimist. I don't tell him that, of course (see above).
I had read a lot about Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) after his accident. I read a lot about hemmorhagic strokes (he had one affecting his right side). I talked to my aunt; her husband had suffered a nasty stroke about 9 years prior to Ron's accident.
Everything I learned pointed to one thing: I'd see a lot of improvement up to 6 months. Whatever progress Ron had made was likely to be "it".
I was encouraging and supportive, but did my best to be realistic. At 6 months, he was able to move the fingers of his right hand, but he has never been able to use them in a meaningful way. "That might be it" I told him. "I hope it isn't, though."
I teased Ron about running a half marathon with me, when he spoke of "getting my right side back". That, of course, never came to pass.
I'm OK with that. I married a blind man in a wheelchair. Many people assume Ron was fine when we married. Not hardly. I had to push him, in the wheelchair, over the thresh-hold on our honeymoon. I'm OK with that.
I'd rather assume "this is it and he'll decline" than walk around with my head up my.... and get a shock. That's one reason we bought a single-story home, easily navigated.
In fact, I had planned to rearrange the furniture. "No" Ron gasped. "I use the back of the couch to propel myself down the hall!" Oop! Glad I checked!
Our only problem has been the bathroom doorway. Ron can make that work, when the wheelchair comes in. I'm going to "let" him take the spring off the back of the door.
I know it's very painful for him to hobble in the bathroom. I thank God he can, but I think it will be a lot better if he can get his wheelchair in there.
Ron does not do well, pushed. I've learned, over 22 years, to make a suggestion and drop it. Answer questions when asked but no nagging, ever.
I find it sad, everyone acts like it's a big deal to push him in the wheelchair. It's not. It's easier than guiding him, especially when I'm heavily medicated. I like to push him.
People act like it's a big deal for me to fold up the wheelchair and put it away. It's not. It's part of the package. Ron pays the bills, I put up the wheelchair. God has blessed me with a strong body and I enjoy using it.
Ron acts like it's horrific to "make" me load 30 cases of soda onto a truck, and unload it when we get to our destination. While at our wholesaler, I saw a woman sigh and pick up a stack of printouts 2 inches thick. That, to me, is horrific.
Manual labor is nothing.
God helps those who help themselves
I'm pretty excited to try the "other" church in our area.
Houston is huge, population 4 million, about 1.4 million households. It's also home to 4 Calvary Chapels. Three are out of the Metrolift service area, which necessitates someone picking us up at the edge and taking us a couple miles to church.
As I mentioned, our primary ride bought a vehicle that "won't work" anymore. I'll take that at face value.
"You'll have to find another ride." He practically lives at church, but I'll have to do it. OK. Taking that at face value, I posted on Facebook. I know for a fact I have at least 5 people from the church.
I posted this:
Ron and I need a ride from the Starbucks at (location), to the church, on Sundays at 10:30. Ron is in a wheelchair but I fold it and put it away. He can get into pretty much anything but a big rig. A ride to church, on paratransit, is currently about 5 hours round trip. Thanks.
Crickets.
They did post about sports, and an evangelism event they're doing tonight.
I couldn't even get us a ride when Ron could walk - I tried desperately to get a ride from the house to the church. It's disheartening.
I should mention a chunk of my teenage years were devoted, every Sunday, to picking up a blind lady at her home and traveling to church every Sunday for the service. Someone else gave her a ride home. Mom and Dad were happy to do it, and said it was our duty to help those less fortunate.
Ron and I don't want to be crippled. We'd love to drive ourselves around. But we can't, and sometimes we need help.
Well, I thought, God helps those who help themselves.
So, I decided, if we can't go to that one, why not try the one that is in the service area? I looked it up. It's only 4 miles farther than our current trip. Hm.
I told Ron. He was a little uncertain. I played a sermon for him. We both liked it. Salvation message - check. Wanting to reach the unreached, and passionately so - check. Accountability to Bible - check. We know the "denomination" and they're great.
I think we'd love it. I'm not certain what we're doing, but I think Ron will consider attending.
It'll be nice to be independent on our transportation. It's near a pretty grim area that would be awesome for Bible Handouts.
I'm not even mad, just a little frustrated and very disappointed. If Dad could get a wife and two teenagers into the Maxima, and go miles out of the way to pick up the blind lady...
Houston is huge, population 4 million, about 1.4 million households. It's also home to 4 Calvary Chapels. Three are out of the Metrolift service area, which necessitates someone picking us up at the edge and taking us a couple miles to church.
As I mentioned, our primary ride bought a vehicle that "won't work" anymore. I'll take that at face value.
"You'll have to find another ride." He practically lives at church, but I'll have to do it. OK. Taking that at face value, I posted on Facebook. I know for a fact I have at least 5 people from the church.
I posted this:
Ron and I need a ride from the Starbucks at (location), to the church, on Sundays at 10:30. Ron is in a wheelchair but I fold it and put it away. He can get into pretty much anything but a big rig. A ride to church, on paratransit, is currently about 5 hours round trip. Thanks.
Crickets.
They did post about sports, and an evangelism event they're doing tonight.
I couldn't even get us a ride when Ron could walk - I tried desperately to get a ride from the house to the church. It's disheartening.
I should mention a chunk of my teenage years were devoted, every Sunday, to picking up a blind lady at her home and traveling to church every Sunday for the service. Someone else gave her a ride home. Mom and Dad were happy to do it, and said it was our duty to help those less fortunate.
Ron and I don't want to be crippled. We'd love to drive ourselves around. But we can't, and sometimes we need help.
Well, I thought, God helps those who help themselves.
So, I decided, if we can't go to that one, why not try the one that is in the service area? I looked it up. It's only 4 miles farther than our current trip. Hm.
I told Ron. He was a little uncertain. I played a sermon for him. We both liked it. Salvation message - check. Wanting to reach the unreached, and passionately so - check. Accountability to Bible - check. We know the "denomination" and they're great.
I think we'd love it. I'm not certain what we're doing, but I think Ron will consider attending.
It'll be nice to be independent on our transportation. It's near a pretty grim area that would be awesome for Bible Handouts.
I'm not even mad, just a little frustrated and very disappointed. If Dad could get a wife and two teenagers into the Maxima, and go miles out of the way to pick up the blind lady...
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Not so paranoid after all
I need to look something up.
Well, I don't think I have paranoid personality disorder. But I do get a little squinty sometimes.
Our ride to church bought a new vehicle - "One that won't fit Ron's wheelchair. As long as he's using it, you need to find another ride."
I just find the whole thing depressing.
I got a little twitchy over the "as long as he's using it". I'm not finishing that thought.
Ron is, in my book, a real man. He is in tremendous pain everytime he uses the bathroom because he has to hobble, hunched over, holding onto the counter. The current wheelchair does not fit through the door. Getting up is extraordinarily painful for Ron.
So much so, he urinates into a big bottle with a screw-on cap. When he *has* to make a trip, he takes it along, empties it, and washes it out. [Ron gave me permission to share]
The current bottle's a 2 quart cranberry, leftover from my bladder infection. It's far better than a conventional "urinal". Traditional urinals will spill if tipped over. Ron is blind. He has mobility issues. You get it. I could throw the bottle out the window and it wouldn't spill. No, I don't know that...
Happily things are accessible, everywhere but home. Men do like to use the handicapped stall at work, though, which he finds frustrating. He's the only man in a wheelchair.
Today, after we got home, we ordered a Harbor Freight wheelchair. Ron knows the current chair has lower handles, which makes it harder for me to push. The old Harbor Freight wheelchair (Ironsides), had wonderful high handles in the back. It is a little rough riding but it's also welded steel. It's VERY rugged. It also has a bar in the back. When I'm bumping Ron over a curb or our threshold, I push down with my foot on the bar, which raises the front wheels, making it easier.
Ron and I agree, we're very glad we can get it; but I think we both wish he didn't need it. Which is why I got a little wierd reading the message "as long as he's using it".
Here's a link: http://www.harborfreight.com/24-inch-foldable-wheelchair-67437.html
Here's a photo:
Anyway, I just told Ron, maybe we need to think about going to another church - same "denomination", but in the service area so we don't have to depend on anyone other than paratransit. I'm going to get the address.
Edit: only 4 miles travel difference, and no waiting for an hour in the middle. Hm. Liking it.
Well, I don't think I have paranoid personality disorder. But I do get a little squinty sometimes.
Our ride to church bought a new vehicle - "One that won't fit Ron's wheelchair. As long as he's using it, you need to find another ride."
I just find the whole thing depressing.
I got a little twitchy over the "as long as he's using it". I'm not finishing that thought.
Ron is, in my book, a real man. He is in tremendous pain everytime he uses the bathroom because he has to hobble, hunched over, holding onto the counter. The current wheelchair does not fit through the door. Getting up is extraordinarily painful for Ron.
So much so, he urinates into a big bottle with a screw-on cap. When he *has* to make a trip, he takes it along, empties it, and washes it out. [Ron gave me permission to share]
The current bottle's a 2 quart cranberry, leftover from my bladder infection. It's far better than a conventional "urinal". Traditional urinals will spill if tipped over. Ron is blind. He has mobility issues. You get it. I could throw the bottle out the window and it wouldn't spill. No, I don't know that...
Happily things are accessible, everywhere but home. Men do like to use the handicapped stall at work, though, which he finds frustrating. He's the only man in a wheelchair.
Today, after we got home, we ordered a Harbor Freight wheelchair. Ron knows the current chair has lower handles, which makes it harder for me to push. The old Harbor Freight wheelchair (Ironsides), had wonderful high handles in the back. It is a little rough riding but it's also welded steel. It's VERY rugged. It also has a bar in the back. When I'm bumping Ron over a curb or our threshold, I push down with my foot on the bar, which raises the front wheels, making it easier.
Ron and I agree, we're very glad we can get it; but I think we both wish he didn't need it. Which is why I got a little wierd reading the message "as long as he's using it".
Here's a link: http://www.harborfreight.com/24-inch-foldable-wheelchair-67437.html
Here's a photo:
Anyway, I just told Ron, maybe we need to think about going to another church - same "denomination", but in the service area so we don't have to depend on anyone other than paratransit. I'm going to get the address.
Edit: only 4 miles travel difference, and no waiting for an hour in the middle. Hm. Liking it.
"Do you want the truth?"
I'm at the high end of my doses. Boy am I feeling it.
Still depressed but it's more managable. I got up early, did my God Time, ate breakfast, got online and checked my tracking number, which they said didn't exist.
The box is going to do God's work. I'm certain He will get it there.
I checked again, and got this: "Your item was processed through and left our NORTH HOUSTON, TX 77315 facility on June 18, 2014 at 11:31 pm. The item is currently in transit to the destination. Information, if available, is updated periodically throughout the day. Please check again later."
Uh, yeah, I knew it had to go through our facility. But thanks. I did sign up for text updates which ought to be interesting.
We had a trip planned to the wholesaler. These guys are so big you have to apply to become a customer. No public allowed. The last time we went Metrolift left us there over an hour and a half. People kept asking if we were OK. It was embarrassing, but it's not my shame - I didn't damage my brain.
I occasionally get very irked at my birth mother, when I'm waiting on a ride. Especially when Ron's out there sweating in the heat.
We have called our orders into a particular lady for 13 years now. We are very friendly. She came out last time and was very helpful.
I got her a little present, and gave it to her. She loved it. "Next time" I told her "I'll bring some chocolate chip muffins from Sam's Club". She didn't say no to that.
We got our order, 2 cases. One item was 2 ounce bags of "Flamers" - Ron's term for Flaming Hot Cheetos. They are hugely popular when I buy a flaming hot combo mix, and I figured we could sell them in a lively manner.
I was right. They bought 2 bags while I was still stocking!
We actually had a good pickup. I thanked Ron (I try to be appreciative - and he's our trip planner). "It wasn't me" he replied "Metrolift moved up the pickup."
I'm debating a share, here. Someone could get fired if I do, so I won't.
Suffice to say a low-blood sugar driver is very alarming. I think I may want to start handing out candy again.
Hey, I got out walking and talking. Ron's fine, the wheelchair's fine, and even the inventory was fine. It's a win.
We got to work and I immediately went to stocking. Sunday, I bought some Sour Brite Crawlers (a 2 ounce gummy worm) at the warehouse. I figured they would make a good coil filler - something to provide variety, but not really sales.
I was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. I already sold 17! I had a customer, one of my best, come up begging me to get more. Wow.
I'll be happy to sell them. It's making me look at other gummy products. I spied on the other vendor, she sells a lot I wouldn't. But she is selling a sour gummy watermelon thing. I might copy that.
Pretzels? No thanks. My sales rep gave me a sample of some Rold Gold Cheesy pretzel things. I thought they were delicious, but my customers want flaming hot things. If they had flaming hot pretzels I'd give them a shot.
The Ruffles Original were a leap of faith. They did very poorly the last couple times I sold them. I should add, I adore them, but the customers apparently didn't. Until now. They ate almost a whole case in 5 days. Impressive! They're on the team.
Main team:
Doritos
Ruffles Original
Flaming Hot Cheetos
Regular Cheetos (for some unknown reason, the other vendor refuses to sell the regular cheetos, only Cheeto puffs)
Herr's Rib Chips (a really good BBQ ripple chip)
Nacho Bugles (I need to get more)
Zapps Cajun Crawtators (new today, we'll see how they do)
Bob's Jalapeno Kettle chips (stolen from the other vendor)
Probably Chili Cheese Fritos - adding in on my next order.
I won't type out my whole lineup, but I do have big cookies, tray cookies, Poptarts, 3 kinds of protein bar, trail mix, nuts, 3 kinds of granola bar, lots of pastry, all your favorite candy, and sour gummy worms.
Whew. I get tired just typing it. That's *just* snacks, not food or sodas, either.
Lots of stocking. I took out the dumpster, but they had hauled the receptacle away. I had to call the other vendor's guy and tell him "I took your dumpster, but I couldn't bring it back." I called him. He said that was fine - we're very friendly.
He told us his air conditioner was down - so we gave him the number for our guys. They do really good work and don't rape you in the process.
I did an inventory and made a rather extensive list.
Pretty soon, time to go. We headed out. We had a good pickup, the guy came right up to us as we walked out.
Unfortunately, it was cologne man. I thanked God I did not have a headache today. I would have vomited. He keeps a bottle of aftershave in the vehicle because "it makes him feel fresh" to apply it, now and then.
I guess my PTSD is focusing on car accidents now. I am hypervigilant. I hope it wears off.
On a side note, various strangers seem to find it "funny" to startle me by making loud noises or yelling right behind me. I pray they never go through PTSD. I don't declaim, but it's not fun.
I would never do that. Oh, yeah, I jumped. So what? You feel like a big man now? [sigh]
Anyway. We got home. We had a turnaround trip - an hour at home, then off to Walmart. Ron wanted a new backpack. His old one was pretty thrashed. Happily the back-to-school backpacks arrived recently. Ron had a decent selection. He chose a $14 version with plenty of pockets. It's a nice cobalt, too.
He wanted some knit shorts - he has 2 pair. He loves to wear them in the summer. I took him over to the display. They had lots of colors, which would be great if Ron wanted to look like a peacock. Ron only wears neutrals - at his insistence.
Ron's a medium. They had one pair, one, in a neutral. Light gray. Good. He has a navy, he has a charcoal heather, now a light gray heather. It feels odd to type my name without a capital H.
I considered the dark green. Could it work? Ron's entire wardrobe is comprised of mix-and-match neutrals. Maybe it would work.
I called my aunt, aka "The Fashion Police". No, she said. That's what I thought.
We bought one pair of shorts, the light gray. I did consider the orange for a Bible Handout but Ron said absolutely not. I wish they came in a woman's plus size! [grin]
I don't care if I look like a fool, doing a Handout.
I bought Ron his beloved Jack Links Teriyaki Sausage Links - in the fridge case, along with some whole-wheat hot dog buns (his favorite meal). We got his chips, his sausage, grape tomatoes, sparkling water.
I was moderately depressed. Walmart employees kept looking at me with concern and asking if I was "OK".
I read a book - in the book every personality trait was mapped out in facial paint. Say Bipolar Disorder, paint up one cheekbone and down the other. Anyone could glance at me and learn a tremendous amount of detail. Sounds wonderful. I just smiled and said I was fine.
One time a guy asked Ron "Howya doing?"
"Do you want the truth?"
I don't want to dump on people, or scare them.
I didn't buy much: soda, soap flakes, generic multivitamin, cat treats, ice cream.
I had run by the deli. The clerk greeted me. "I'd like a pound of the pepper turkey, with the pepper in the turkey". Sorry, he told me, they didn't sell it anymore.
"Please tell me you're kidding."
"Sorry, I'm not. We have the kind with the pepper crust."
I gave him a little teasing about selling "Crusty" turkey, and got a pound. It's a good meal when I'm tired, especially with some sliced cheese and maybe a pickle.
We went out into the foyer to wait on the ride. Walmart had a huge display of name-brand bottled water. [Bad Word] I forgot the bottled water.
I left Ron with the cart and ran through the self-check. I bought myself a corn dog at the deli.
My meds cause a lot of nausea. Happily the Haldol gets 99% of it, but if I eat the wrong thing, like any kind of sausage or hot dog, I'll get queasy. Today, I knew I could eat it.
"I hope it came from a pig" I told our driver.
We had a good ride home. I lugged everything - the heavy stuff, and the driver picked up a bag with a few light items.
They don't HAVE to do any of that - carrying packages is my job, and why I get a "free" ride. Ron did his trademark "scoot up the driveway in my wheelchair backwards" move. I have got to get that on video.
I put everything up and considered a nap, but I have tomorrow off. Yay!
I plan to do a little organizing if I'm a little manic, like I am now.
Still depressed but it's more managable. I got up early, did my God Time, ate breakfast, got online and checked my tracking number, which they said didn't exist.
The box is going to do God's work. I'm certain He will get it there.
I checked again, and got this: "Your item was processed through and left our NORTH HOUSTON, TX 77315 facility on June 18, 2014 at 11:31 pm. The item is currently in transit to the destination. Information, if available, is updated periodically throughout the day. Please check again later."
Uh, yeah, I knew it had to go through our facility. But thanks. I did sign up for text updates which ought to be interesting.
We had a trip planned to the wholesaler. These guys are so big you have to apply to become a customer. No public allowed. The last time we went Metrolift left us there over an hour and a half. People kept asking if we were OK. It was embarrassing, but it's not my shame - I didn't damage my brain.
I occasionally get very irked at my birth mother, when I'm waiting on a ride. Especially when Ron's out there sweating in the heat.
We have called our orders into a particular lady for 13 years now. We are very friendly. She came out last time and was very helpful.
I got her a little present, and gave it to her. She loved it. "Next time" I told her "I'll bring some chocolate chip muffins from Sam's Club". She didn't say no to that.
We got our order, 2 cases. One item was 2 ounce bags of "Flamers" - Ron's term for Flaming Hot Cheetos. They are hugely popular when I buy a flaming hot combo mix, and I figured we could sell them in a lively manner.
I was right. They bought 2 bags while I was still stocking!
We actually had a good pickup. I thanked Ron (I try to be appreciative - and he's our trip planner). "It wasn't me" he replied "Metrolift moved up the pickup."
I'm debating a share, here. Someone could get fired if I do, so I won't.
Suffice to say a low-blood sugar driver is very alarming. I think I may want to start handing out candy again.
Hey, I got out walking and talking. Ron's fine, the wheelchair's fine, and even the inventory was fine. It's a win.
We got to work and I immediately went to stocking. Sunday, I bought some Sour Brite Crawlers (a 2 ounce gummy worm) at the warehouse. I figured they would make a good coil filler - something to provide variety, but not really sales.
I was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. I already sold 17! I had a customer, one of my best, come up begging me to get more. Wow.
I'll be happy to sell them. It's making me look at other gummy products. I spied on the other vendor, she sells a lot I wouldn't. But she is selling a sour gummy watermelon thing. I might copy that.
Pretzels? No thanks. My sales rep gave me a sample of some Rold Gold Cheesy pretzel things. I thought they were delicious, but my customers want flaming hot things. If they had flaming hot pretzels I'd give them a shot.
The Ruffles Original were a leap of faith. They did very poorly the last couple times I sold them. I should add, I adore them, but the customers apparently didn't. Until now. They ate almost a whole case in 5 days. Impressive! They're on the team.
Main team:
Doritos
Ruffles Original
Flaming Hot Cheetos
Regular Cheetos (for some unknown reason, the other vendor refuses to sell the regular cheetos, only Cheeto puffs)
Herr's Rib Chips (a really good BBQ ripple chip)
Nacho Bugles (I need to get more)
Zapps Cajun Crawtators (new today, we'll see how they do)
Bob's Jalapeno Kettle chips (stolen from the other vendor)
Probably Chili Cheese Fritos - adding in on my next order.
I won't type out my whole lineup, but I do have big cookies, tray cookies, Poptarts, 3 kinds of protein bar, trail mix, nuts, 3 kinds of granola bar, lots of pastry, all your favorite candy, and sour gummy worms.
Whew. I get tired just typing it. That's *just* snacks, not food or sodas, either.
Lots of stocking. I took out the dumpster, but they had hauled the receptacle away. I had to call the other vendor's guy and tell him "I took your dumpster, but I couldn't bring it back." I called him. He said that was fine - we're very friendly.
He told us his air conditioner was down - so we gave him the number for our guys. They do really good work and don't rape you in the process.
I did an inventory and made a rather extensive list.
Pretty soon, time to go. We headed out. We had a good pickup, the guy came right up to us as we walked out.
Unfortunately, it was cologne man. I thanked God I did not have a headache today. I would have vomited. He keeps a bottle of aftershave in the vehicle because "it makes him feel fresh" to apply it, now and then.
I guess my PTSD is focusing on car accidents now. I am hypervigilant. I hope it wears off.
On a side note, various strangers seem to find it "funny" to startle me by making loud noises or yelling right behind me. I pray they never go through PTSD. I don't declaim, but it's not fun.
I would never do that. Oh, yeah, I jumped. So what? You feel like a big man now? [sigh]
Anyway. We got home. We had a turnaround trip - an hour at home, then off to Walmart. Ron wanted a new backpack. His old one was pretty thrashed. Happily the back-to-school backpacks arrived recently. Ron had a decent selection. He chose a $14 version with plenty of pockets. It's a nice cobalt, too.
He wanted some knit shorts - he has 2 pair. He loves to wear them in the summer. I took him over to the display. They had lots of colors, which would be great if Ron wanted to look like a peacock. Ron only wears neutrals - at his insistence.
Ron's a medium. They had one pair, one, in a neutral. Light gray. Good. He has a navy, he has a charcoal heather, now a light gray heather. It feels odd to type my name without a capital H.
I considered the dark green. Could it work? Ron's entire wardrobe is comprised of mix-and-match neutrals. Maybe it would work.
I called my aunt, aka "The Fashion Police". No, she said. That's what I thought.
We bought one pair of shorts, the light gray. I did consider the orange for a Bible Handout but Ron said absolutely not. I wish they came in a woman's plus size! [grin]
I don't care if I look like a fool, doing a Handout.
I bought Ron his beloved Jack Links Teriyaki Sausage Links - in the fridge case, along with some whole-wheat hot dog buns (his favorite meal). We got his chips, his sausage, grape tomatoes, sparkling water.
I was moderately depressed. Walmart employees kept looking at me with concern and asking if I was "OK".
I read a book - in the book every personality trait was mapped out in facial paint. Say Bipolar Disorder, paint up one cheekbone and down the other. Anyone could glance at me and learn a tremendous amount of detail. Sounds wonderful. I just smiled and said I was fine.
One time a guy asked Ron "Howya doing?"
"Do you want the truth?"
I don't want to dump on people, or scare them.
I didn't buy much: soda, soap flakes, generic multivitamin, cat treats, ice cream.
I had run by the deli. The clerk greeted me. "I'd like a pound of the pepper turkey, with the pepper in the turkey". Sorry, he told me, they didn't sell it anymore.
"Please tell me you're kidding."
"Sorry, I'm not. We have the kind with the pepper crust."
I gave him a little teasing about selling "Crusty" turkey, and got a pound. It's a good meal when I'm tired, especially with some sliced cheese and maybe a pickle.
We went out into the foyer to wait on the ride. Walmart had a huge display of name-brand bottled water. [Bad Word] I forgot the bottled water.
I left Ron with the cart and ran through the self-check. I bought myself a corn dog at the deli.
My meds cause a lot of nausea. Happily the Haldol gets 99% of it, but if I eat the wrong thing, like any kind of sausage or hot dog, I'll get queasy. Today, I knew I could eat it.
"I hope it came from a pig" I told our driver.
We had a good ride home. I lugged everything - the heavy stuff, and the driver picked up a bag with a few light items.
They don't HAVE to do any of that - carrying packages is my job, and why I get a "free" ride. Ron did his trademark "scoot up the driveway in my wheelchair backwards" move. I have got to get that on video.
I put everything up and considered a nap, but I have tomorrow off. Yay!
I plan to do a little organizing if I'm a little manic, like I am now.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Short Bus
"Heather says, bring a rubber" Ron told the repairman.
"The rubber's wearing out on the mechanical hand, in our bottled vendor."
I had a pretty good morning, considering. I got up early, shower, God Time, breakfast (leftover stuffed cheesy bread, which worked great).
Our first ride, to the warehouse, was good, but she was pretty slow. She needs to pick up the pace or she won't be there long.
We didn't need much, at the warehouse. We got some Monster drinks (one of our most frequent requests), and 2 cases of canned soda.
We got to work and stocked it. Ron caused a jam with resulted in a lot of drama. [gibbering noises] He had to unload it and stick his hand in the machine, extracting the can somehow.
I was busy fixing a very naughty bottled vendor (which, as I said, needs a new rubber) and trying to stock snacks. I got about 75% accomplished.
Ron and I, at the end of it, agreed we need to plan more time at work.
We had one of my favorite drivers to go home. I got the Bibles and the address. I had blank paper to tape over the bar codes (because it messes up the scans), a marking pen, and mailing tape. I had the address, written on a piece of paper. I had Mom's box all loaded up in the handcart/box arrangement (a folding box strapped to the handcart). It took me back to the old Bible Handout days.
I brought $40. Plenty of money, right?
You can imagine how I felt when I got to the counter and found out the Bibles, alone, were $40 shipping. I felt like such a nit.
[Next time, I'll use a flat rate box. I didn't have a large flat rate box so I had to use my own. But now I have plenty - I loaded up on free flat rate boxes.]
See, that wasn't all. I taped the "blank" paper over the bar codes and taped it thoroughly. I was pretty horrified when I found I'd taped the address, onto the box, with only blank paper showing. I borrowed a box cutter from a clerk, and cut it out, as I peeled the paper back I revealed the address.
"They told my parents I'd ride the short bus" I said "I guess I just proved it." She laughed. I addressed the package and taped over where I'd cut the paper - boy that poor box.
Then I got to the counter and barely had enough money to mail the Bibles. Sorry, Mom.
I told Ron about this and he gave me money to mail Mom's package (imported soaps). She's going to be happy.
Horrific line, the second time. But I got Mom sent, and went back to Ron.
Everytime I mail a package I pass Loz Lokoz Takoz. It's a food truck. I've walked past this truck every time, for years. It's always open. It always looks clean. It has recently expanded. On my second trip from the Post Office, I smelled a divine meat-cooking aroma.
Today I was mostly depressed, but at that moment in time I was manic enough to think "What the hell, I'm going to give it a try." I bought myself a steak quesadilla, for $6. I bought Ron a takoz, for $2. [grin]
I went back to Taco Bell and gave him his takoz. I hadn't eaten and was pretty hungry. I opened the foil to find a huge quesadilla stuffed with meat. I began eating and promptly started making X-rated yum yum noises.
The meat was delicious, smoky and tender. A lot of times beef quesadillas are dry, stingy portions, and gristly. This was stuffed with delicious, tender, smoky meat. I could only eat half, and I was starving. I had to watch myself because I kept making those X rated yum yum noises.
It was pretty greasy but that's standard taqueria fare. I can hardly wait for breakfast (the other half). So, so, glad I finally gave them a chance.
Ron, in the meantime, murdered his taco in record time making his own yummy noises.
We had a rather long wait but a good ride home. Boy, I am tired.
The Bibles arrive in South Dakota on Friday - then they're off to disaster victims. I know God has it in His hands.
"The rubber's wearing out on the mechanical hand, in our bottled vendor."
I had a pretty good morning, considering. I got up early, shower, God Time, breakfast (leftover stuffed cheesy bread, which worked great).
Our first ride, to the warehouse, was good, but she was pretty slow. She needs to pick up the pace or she won't be there long.
We didn't need much, at the warehouse. We got some Monster drinks (one of our most frequent requests), and 2 cases of canned soda.
We got to work and stocked it. Ron caused a jam with resulted in a lot of drama. [gibbering noises] He had to unload it and stick his hand in the machine, extracting the can somehow.
I was busy fixing a very naughty bottled vendor (which, as I said, needs a new rubber) and trying to stock snacks. I got about 75% accomplished.
Ron and I, at the end of it, agreed we need to plan more time at work.
We had one of my favorite drivers to go home. I got the Bibles and the address. I had blank paper to tape over the bar codes (because it messes up the scans), a marking pen, and mailing tape. I had the address, written on a piece of paper. I had Mom's box all loaded up in the handcart/box arrangement (a folding box strapped to the handcart). It took me back to the old Bible Handout days.
I brought $40. Plenty of money, right?
You can imagine how I felt when I got to the counter and found out the Bibles, alone, were $40 shipping. I felt like such a nit.
[Next time, I'll use a flat rate box. I didn't have a large flat rate box so I had to use my own. But now I have plenty - I loaded up on free flat rate boxes.]
See, that wasn't all. I taped the "blank" paper over the bar codes and taped it thoroughly. I was pretty horrified when I found I'd taped the address, onto the box, with only blank paper showing. I borrowed a box cutter from a clerk, and cut it out, as I peeled the paper back I revealed the address.
"They told my parents I'd ride the short bus" I said "I guess I just proved it." She laughed. I addressed the package and taped over where I'd cut the paper - boy that poor box.
Then I got to the counter and barely had enough money to mail the Bibles. Sorry, Mom.
I told Ron about this and he gave me money to mail Mom's package (imported soaps). She's going to be happy.
Horrific line, the second time. But I got Mom sent, and went back to Ron.
Everytime I mail a package I pass Loz Lokoz Takoz. It's a food truck. I've walked past this truck every time, for years. It's always open. It always looks clean. It has recently expanded. On my second trip from the Post Office, I smelled a divine meat-cooking aroma.
Today I was mostly depressed, but at that moment in time I was manic enough to think "What the hell, I'm going to give it a try." I bought myself a steak quesadilla, for $6. I bought Ron a takoz, for $2. [grin]
I went back to Taco Bell and gave him his takoz. I hadn't eaten and was pretty hungry. I opened the foil to find a huge quesadilla stuffed with meat. I began eating and promptly started making X-rated yum yum noises.
The meat was delicious, smoky and tender. A lot of times beef quesadillas are dry, stingy portions, and gristly. This was stuffed with delicious, tender, smoky meat. I could only eat half, and I was starving. I had to watch myself because I kept making those X rated yum yum noises.
It was pretty greasy but that's standard taqueria fare. I can hardly wait for breakfast (the other half). So, so, glad I finally gave them a chance.
Ron, in the meantime, murdered his taco in record time making his own yummy noises.
We had a rather long wait but a good ride home. Boy, I am tired.
The Bibles arrive in South Dakota on Friday - then they're off to disaster victims. I know God has it in His hands.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Wheelchair Handout
Ron stuck in the wheelchair. 2 crates of Bibles. I was a little leery.
However, I donned my getup (loud orange t-shirt, safety orange vest, and safety orange boonie hat). "I look like I escaped from a safety products catalog" I told Ron, wryly.
Ron wore a safety orange boonie hat.
He held the lighter crate (about half full). We had the driver drop us off very close to the corner, and I set the crates on the ground next to Ron.
I parked him there, in the ghetto, and ran across to the median with the first crate. I came back and got Ron. We were a little worried about me bumping the wheelchair up on the curb, but it was easy. Ron asked me what else we had to do, and I said we were done. He was happy to hear that.
I had a couple dozen whole Bibles (shrink wrapped gift ones, at that!
), and several dozen New Testaments. I had a total of two Spanish Bibles.
Once I got set up, my first guy rolls down his window (that's the nice thing about working the ghetto, everyone has a window down because they don't have A/C). "You don't have any Spanish" he told me. His wife sat next to him, watching.
Ha! I dug them out and presented them. He was shocked, but happy.
Well, all done with the Spanish.
I had a family pull up. They asked for 2 but I saw 3 adults, and handed in 3 of the "nice" Bibles. They came back a couple minutes later. The passenger had her Bible open in her lap. Could they get a couple more for...?
That happened twice more, people who got a few and came back when they saw the Bibles.
I had one mother almost cry when I gave her teenage (driving the vehicle) son a Bible and Gospel Rap CD. I gave her a Bible, too. Later on he came back and tried to give me money. Probably all they had, of course I declined.
Not starting a debate on music: I "like" a couple of gospel rappers on Facebook. They offer free downloads of their albums to anyone interested. One of them suggested all fans burn off copies and distribute them. I asked my "other" guy if he approved and he loved it. So, I made a mixtape CD.
I had about 10 and they all went like hotcakes. I need to do that again.
I ran out of whole Bibles and moved onto my bigger New Testaments. Things had slowed down a lot. I got a few here and there but the majority was done, it seemed.
We finally got close to our pickup time so I closed up shop. We had distributed about 60, and some children's Scripture booklets.
It was pretty lively at the gas station. A guy dealing drugs out front, a couple of crackheads trying to make "blunts" off in a corner... a very loud argument.
I was pretty happy to see our ride home.
However, I donned my getup (loud orange t-shirt, safety orange vest, and safety orange boonie hat). "I look like I escaped from a safety products catalog" I told Ron, wryly.
Ron wore a safety orange boonie hat.
He held the lighter crate (about half full). We had the driver drop us off very close to the corner, and I set the crates on the ground next to Ron.
I parked him there, in the ghetto, and ran across to the median with the first crate. I came back and got Ron. We were a little worried about me bumping the wheelchair up on the curb, but it was easy. Ron asked me what else we had to do, and I said we were done. He was happy to hear that.
I had a couple dozen whole Bibles (shrink wrapped gift ones, at that!
), and several dozen New Testaments. I had a total of two Spanish Bibles. Once I got set up, my first guy rolls down his window (that's the nice thing about working the ghetto, everyone has a window down because they don't have A/C). "You don't have any Spanish" he told me. His wife sat next to him, watching.
Ha! I dug them out and presented them. He was shocked, but happy.
Well, all done with the Spanish.
I had a family pull up. They asked for 2 but I saw 3 adults, and handed in 3 of the "nice" Bibles. They came back a couple minutes later. The passenger had her Bible open in her lap. Could they get a couple more for...?
That happened twice more, people who got a few and came back when they saw the Bibles.
I had one mother almost cry when I gave her teenage (driving the vehicle) son a Bible and Gospel Rap CD. I gave her a Bible, too. Later on he came back and tried to give me money. Probably all they had, of course I declined.
Not starting a debate on music: I "like" a couple of gospel rappers on Facebook. They offer free downloads of their albums to anyone interested. One of them suggested all fans burn off copies and distribute them. I asked my "other" guy if he approved and he loved it. So, I made a mixtape CD.
I had about 10 and they all went like hotcakes. I need to do that again.
I ran out of whole Bibles and moved onto my bigger New Testaments. Things had slowed down a lot. I got a few here and there but the majority was done, it seemed.
We finally got close to our pickup time so I closed up shop. We had distributed about 60, and some children's Scripture booklets.
It was pretty lively at the gas station. A guy dealing drugs out front, a couple of crackheads trying to make "blunts" off in a corner... a very loud argument.
I was pretty happy to see our ride home.
"The Great Evangelist"
Someone once called me that, sarcastically, while in the process of judging me.
I don't even need to defend myself. I have always said: anything good you see in me is God. Anything that isn't is me.
If you "see" a Bible Handout, God gets the credit. He's the one who put the idea in my head. It was very loud.
I just went.
Last night I got the itch to do another Bible Handout. Ron was surprisingly agreeable. Normally, he gives a vehement refusal. "If God wants it done" he'll rail "He can do it Himself."
I often end up on the bus with a handcart. That sucks.
The Bibles weigh probably 50 pounds minimum. The bus stop is half a mile away. I have to get it up and down off the bus.
Last night, though, Ron just asked when I'd like to go, and didn't even quibble about the duration. Wow. God working in him. Awesome.
I did up about 100 Bibles, a couple handfuls of kiddie Scripture booklets, and 10 or so Gospel Rap CD's. The artists gave me permission to burn and distribute CD's.
A friend of mine is up north, around a lot of devastation. God's been working on me, for that. Today I did up about 50 NT and found a sturdy box. I'll be shipping those to her, tomorrow. She's happy to hand them out. I'm delighted to participate in any way.
I just want people to meet God in a meaningful way, to have His word to hang onto during this horrible time. That's all. I don't care how it happens (unless I have to get naked).
Besides, as I see it, every dollar I give to the Post Office ends up in my vending machines, sooner or later. How's that for self serving? [grin]
Priority mail is very good for this - a heavy package, get there fast and safe.
Ron will get Taco Bell so he won't mind. I leave him there: food, drink, bathroom. None of which can be found at the Post Office.
I just hope I get an update. I mailed some Bibles after another disaster, years ago, and never heard a peep! Were they handed out? Are they sitting in someone's garage? I don't know, but I know God will use them sooner or later.
I remember one day I found about 40 New Testaments at the thrift store, donated by a church. They had been marked up to lead the reader down the path of salvation - took dozens of hours. They just waited for decades until I came along. I handed out most of them on my way home. :)
Some of the Bibles I'm distributing today sat in a garage for years, probably. It wasn't their time. They got shipped to me and I distribute.
I often think the things I hand out may sit around for years until the person's ready.
I see myself more as a distributor than an evangelist - although of course I pray for the recipients every day.
Instead of stocking a machine, I'm stocking souls. :)
Do I think *I* am "saving" anyone? Absolutely not. Only God can do that. I'll make an introduction. I'll provide a Bible or other scripture material. I pray. That's it. If I have any "role" it's more like one brick in a pathway.
So, I'm ready to go. I don't have any sodas (last minute) but I have plenty of bottled water. I've been hydrating. I want to be hydrated but not bursting.
I hate going on a Handout and standing there, desperate to pee. The gas station doesn't allow any bathroom usage.
I don't even need to defend myself. I have always said: anything good you see in me is God. Anything that isn't is me.
If you "see" a Bible Handout, God gets the credit. He's the one who put the idea in my head. It was very loud.
I just went.
Last night I got the itch to do another Bible Handout. Ron was surprisingly agreeable. Normally, he gives a vehement refusal. "If God wants it done" he'll rail "He can do it Himself."
I often end up on the bus with a handcart. That sucks.
The Bibles weigh probably 50 pounds minimum. The bus stop is half a mile away. I have to get it up and down off the bus.
Last night, though, Ron just asked when I'd like to go, and didn't even quibble about the duration. Wow. God working in him. Awesome.
I did up about 100 Bibles, a couple handfuls of kiddie Scripture booklets, and 10 or so Gospel Rap CD's. The artists gave me permission to burn and distribute CD's.
A friend of mine is up north, around a lot of devastation. God's been working on me, for that. Today I did up about 50 NT and found a sturdy box. I'll be shipping those to her, tomorrow. She's happy to hand them out. I'm delighted to participate in any way.
I just want people to meet God in a meaningful way, to have His word to hang onto during this horrible time. That's all. I don't care how it happens (unless I have to get naked).
Besides, as I see it, every dollar I give to the Post Office ends up in my vending machines, sooner or later. How's that for self serving? [grin]
Priority mail is very good for this - a heavy package, get there fast and safe.
Ron will get Taco Bell so he won't mind. I leave him there: food, drink, bathroom. None of which can be found at the Post Office.
I just hope I get an update. I mailed some Bibles after another disaster, years ago, and never heard a peep! Were they handed out? Are they sitting in someone's garage? I don't know, but I know God will use them sooner or later.
I remember one day I found about 40 New Testaments at the thrift store, donated by a church. They had been marked up to lead the reader down the path of salvation - took dozens of hours. They just waited for decades until I came along. I handed out most of them on my way home. :)
Some of the Bibles I'm distributing today sat in a garage for years, probably. It wasn't their time. They got shipped to me and I distribute.
I often think the things I hand out may sit around for years until the person's ready.
I see myself more as a distributor than an evangelist - although of course I pray for the recipients every day.
Instead of stocking a machine, I'm stocking souls. :)
Do I think *I* am "saving" anyone? Absolutely not. Only God can do that. I'll make an introduction. I'll provide a Bible or other scripture material. I pray. That's it. If I have any "role" it's more like one brick in a pathway.
So, I'm ready to go. I don't have any sodas (last minute) but I have plenty of bottled water. I've been hydrating. I want to be hydrated but not bursting.
I hate going on a Handout and standing there, desperate to pee. The gas station doesn't allow any bathroom usage.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Tasks
You might think, and rightly so, it would completely suck to get up at 2 AM, after a poor sleep, and go to work at 4.
Most times, you'd be right - but when I'm this depressed I do better with tasks.
Ron has been pretty awesome, as I tell him everyday "Still horribly depressed". I don't think he's taking things as personally, either.
So, we got up and took some merchandise to work. I stocked, waiting on our deliveries, which both came at the same time. Sandwich guy got a drink, and Dr Pepper guy got a meal (sandwich, chips, drink) because he helped me unload the pallet (I had my back brace).
Ron and I made up a new word (we do on occasion) "Snocking" - for stocking snacks. I did that. I did food. I cleaned the microwaves. I organized our corner of the stockroom. I talked to the other vendor, who told me her area won't open for another month. She is not very happy about that.
"They" had our area done a month before schedule. I didn't mention that. The other vendors have been agitating for a bigger, additional, stockroom. In addition to the one they weren't even going to build us, but did. [wry shrug]
I paid a few refunds and figured out a coil for my "Sour Brite Crawlers" gummy worms. They seemed like a good idea at the time. We'll see what the customers think. It's all about making them happy.
I had plenty of leftovers, which makes me really happy. I just need to do a "will call" with the other wholesaler and get a couple items.
The only problem was "takeout guy" bugging me for condiments again, today. Why not bring them with the rest of your food? I didn't say it but I did wonder.
All done, short wait, and then we're home. Good trips today.
Our neighbors were really quiet last night, but I was pretty agitated and had trouble sleeping. I was functional anyway. Took a shower, washed my hair, because I hate the smell of it when I'm depressed. Natural hair oils have a scent and it's depressing to me, it reminds me of times when I was so depressed I couldn't even shower.
Better to "waste" a little water.
I do love our new showerhead. I think we'll save on the water bill.
I woke up with Torbie on my foot, which was very nice. We did God Time together after my shower. I'm glad Ron took me to get new glucosamine treats, I gave her the last one out of the old bag.
The glucosamine has helped her become an active little "Rocket" (Ron's name). I like to see her happy. I love it when I walk over to pet her and she raises her head, into my hand, as I do.
Ron had a rather troubling experience during my nap. I heard a terrible noise and woke up. Ron had run over Baby Girl in his wheelchair.
She was pretty pissed.
Ron is now using his long white cane to navigate the house. We don't want a cat with a broken leg.
I lay in bed, listening to Ron tapping down the hall, thinking "I am married to a blind man with many physical problems, who uses a wheelchair", and I was OK with it.
Most times, you'd be right - but when I'm this depressed I do better with tasks.
Ron has been pretty awesome, as I tell him everyday "Still horribly depressed". I don't think he's taking things as personally, either.
So, we got up and took some merchandise to work. I stocked, waiting on our deliveries, which both came at the same time. Sandwich guy got a drink, and Dr Pepper guy got a meal (sandwich, chips, drink) because he helped me unload the pallet (I had my back brace).
Ron and I made up a new word (we do on occasion) "Snocking" - for stocking snacks. I did that. I did food. I cleaned the microwaves. I organized our corner of the stockroom. I talked to the other vendor, who told me her area won't open for another month. She is not very happy about that.
"They" had our area done a month before schedule. I didn't mention that. The other vendors have been agitating for a bigger, additional, stockroom. In addition to the one they weren't even going to build us, but did. [wry shrug]
I paid a few refunds and figured out a coil for my "Sour Brite Crawlers" gummy worms. They seemed like a good idea at the time. We'll see what the customers think. It's all about making them happy.
I had plenty of leftovers, which makes me really happy. I just need to do a "will call" with the other wholesaler and get a couple items.
The only problem was "takeout guy" bugging me for condiments again, today. Why not bring them with the rest of your food? I didn't say it but I did wonder.
All done, short wait, and then we're home. Good trips today.
Our neighbors were really quiet last night, but I was pretty agitated and had trouble sleeping. I was functional anyway. Took a shower, washed my hair, because I hate the smell of it when I'm depressed. Natural hair oils have a scent and it's depressing to me, it reminds me of times when I was so depressed I couldn't even shower.
Better to "waste" a little water.
I do love our new showerhead. I think we'll save on the water bill.
I woke up with Torbie on my foot, which was very nice. We did God Time together after my shower. I'm glad Ron took me to get new glucosamine treats, I gave her the last one out of the old bag.
The glucosamine has helped her become an active little "Rocket" (Ron's name). I like to see her happy. I love it when I walk over to pet her and she raises her head, into my hand, as I do.
Ron had a rather troubling experience during my nap. I heard a terrible noise and woke up. Ron had run over Baby Girl in his wheelchair.
She was pretty pissed.
Ron is now using his long white cane to navigate the house. We don't want a cat with a broken leg.
I lay in bed, listening to Ron tapping down the hall, thinking "I am married to a blind man with many physical problems, who uses a wheelchair", and I was OK with it.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Our purpose
Still horribly depressed.
I got up, did my God Time, took a shower, and went to the warehouse with Ron. It wasn't too bad.
On the way back, one of our drivers (who's been with the company for decades) said the other clients comment how much they love to ride with us, we're "fun", etc. That's nice to know.
"I don't see many couples" he told me "Who still love each other." That's very sad.
God has me here for that? It's that important? [sigh] I don't know. I'm not telling God what to do, either.
I don't know. Like I tell Ron, if we knew "our purpose" - every detail, "We'd screw it up."
I did get my snack machine inventory. I'm happy about that.
The neighbors were loading up as we arrived. I probably should have greeted them, but I just unloaded and focused on Ron.
I guess I worry if I get too friendly, the crazy will slip out and they'll flee. They are pretty quiet and they like the cats.
I have no doubt they'd sell if they knew the - ah - levels in my head. I'd sell.
I have to get up really early tomorrow. I pray I can get a good amount of sleep.
We'll see.
I've had some new favorite songs I've played, again and again, on Youtube. I finally bought them last night and got them on my mp3 player, hard drive, and backup flash drive (not stored near the computer). I even got a $1 gospel album with 40 nice songs.
This morning, I made a playlist of the new stuff, and another of the "God" stuff - mainly hymns I can enjoy while I'm doing my God Time. I don't want anything too rowdy for that.
Oh, I'm tired and groggy from my meds.
"I always know I'm depressed" I told Ron "When I count the minutes until I can go to bed."
I got up, did my God Time, took a shower, and went to the warehouse with Ron. It wasn't too bad.
On the way back, one of our drivers (who's been with the company for decades) said the other clients comment how much they love to ride with us, we're "fun", etc. That's nice to know.
"I don't see many couples" he told me "Who still love each other." That's very sad.
God has me here for that? It's that important? [sigh] I don't know. I'm not telling God what to do, either.
I don't know. Like I tell Ron, if we knew "our purpose" - every detail, "We'd screw it up."
I did get my snack machine inventory. I'm happy about that.
The neighbors were loading up as we arrived. I probably should have greeted them, but I just unloaded and focused on Ron.
I guess I worry if I get too friendly, the crazy will slip out and they'll flee. They are pretty quiet and they like the cats.
I have no doubt they'd sell if they knew the - ah - levels in my head. I'd sell.
I have to get up really early tomorrow. I pray I can get a good amount of sleep.
We'll see.
I've had some new favorite songs I've played, again and again, on Youtube. I finally bought them last night and got them on my mp3 player, hard drive, and backup flash drive (not stored near the computer). I even got a $1 gospel album with 40 nice songs.
This morning, I made a playlist of the new stuff, and another of the "God" stuff - mainly hymns I can enjoy while I'm doing my God Time. I don't want anything too rowdy for that.
Oh, I'm tired and groggy from my meds.
"I always know I'm depressed" I told Ron "When I count the minutes until I can go to bed."
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Showing my belly
Ron and I have had a little conflict. He thinks I've been "mean".
"If you think it's bad out there." I told him "You should see it inside my head. " Depression. Oh, it's been HORRID.
One of the worst, I believe, I've had in a long time.
I've been listening to this again and again. I plan to buy it tonight. God knows I owe them.
I don't know why it helps - but it does.
Maybe watching the poor little critters get beat up... kind of how I feel right now.
Anyway, yesterday sucked pretty awful. When I got home from Walmart I took a nap, and then did a henna. I added some brown henna, which did help tone down the lurid-orange-at-my-part issue.
I applied a facial scrub about half an hour before I planned to rinse the henna. A JW showed up right as I was climbing into the shower, ringing the doorbell like a bill collector at 8 PM. I would have been so pissed if I had an early morning pickup.
As it is, I opened the door wearing nothing but a towel and a shower cap, saying "Your timing is impeccable". I must have presented a horrifying sight, as she beat a hasty retreat.
The handheld shower worked great for rinsing the henna. 5 stars.
So (sigh) - happily the scrub, which was a new product for me, didn't cause a skin reaction. I only thought of it after the fact.
Today, we got up and went to work. Stock stock stock. Things look good. Coffee machine is down, already. [rolleyes] We'll get it fixed. It's just drama, and I hate drama.
The other machines are fine. Stocked. I do need inventory - and like I told Ron "We can run out of Cheetos, or we can run out of Snickers, but we can't run out of both." Which means a horrific trip to the wholesale warehouse during public hours. I vastly prefer business hours.
We'll need to do that tomorrow. I'm just worn-out.
So, after work, we went to the bank. That took a while.
We had planned to get lunch but didn't have time. We did have good rides today.
The neighbor's yard guys were active, so I used my pull-out couch. I took a nap (they did our yard too for some reason), and Baby Girl joined me. She hasn't done that since the night Bubba died.
She used to try to sleep with me, but I'd roll over and squash her, in my sleep. I'd awaken to a terrible SQUEAK, and she'd flee. She gave up, after a while.
I was very touched and hated to get up.
However, we had a trip to the strip mall. We went to the pet store, and got Torbie's glucosamine treats. They work great so I'm not inclined to change them. I got a Booda Ball, which will dispense treats as they play with it - once they figure it out. I also got a Pawbreaker (you can look it up), a compressed catnip ball. Torbie loves it.
I also got some filters for the cat's water fountain. I scrub it out regularly, then fill it with filtered water (we have a faucet mount filter). That runs through a charcoal filter in the unit, which I change regularly.
I'm drinking fruit punch I made with unfiltered water.
We got dinner, and then came home. I put the pawbreaker in a box on Ron's bed. Torbie made a huge amount of racket, shaking the bed and banging around in her box. It's a hit, and Ron can enjoy her play.
I bought some Salmon-is-the-first-ingredient cat treats. Baby Girl loves them.
Torbie was busy murdering her pawbreaker. I'll try to make a video.
No one has figured out the Booda Ball. They'll probably do it in the middle of the night.
In the meantime, I have two very happy and spoiled cats.
Ron understands me better since I kind of puked the contents of my brain at him. I really wonder if it would help for him to read The Bipolar Survival Guide - would it help? Or would it just freak him out completely? I don't know. I think he might find it depressing. I don't know.
Anyway, I think I need to get better at conveying "I am having a bad day (mentally)". If he doesn't know and feels I'm snapping at him, he won't understand.
I just hate showing my belly - I've been savaged a few times. But he is my husband. I think - know, he'll want to help if he knows I'm in pain. I'm just used to hiding. It's one thing to vomit it all online - another to tell a person I am in distress, someone who already has so many problems of their own.
Well, I can try. If he's a butt, or unsympathetic, I can stop.
"If you think it's bad out there." I told him "You should see it inside my head. " Depression. Oh, it's been HORRID.
One of the worst, I believe, I've had in a long time.
I've been listening to this again and again. I plan to buy it tonight. God knows I owe them.
I don't know why it helps - but it does.
Maybe watching the poor little critters get beat up... kind of how I feel right now.
Anyway, yesterday sucked pretty awful. When I got home from Walmart I took a nap, and then did a henna. I added some brown henna, which did help tone down the lurid-orange-at-my-part issue.
I applied a facial scrub about half an hour before I planned to rinse the henna. A JW showed up right as I was climbing into the shower, ringing the doorbell like a bill collector at 8 PM. I would have been so pissed if I had an early morning pickup.
As it is, I opened the door wearing nothing but a towel and a shower cap, saying "Your timing is impeccable". I must have presented a horrifying sight, as she beat a hasty retreat.
The handheld shower worked great for rinsing the henna. 5 stars.
So (sigh) - happily the scrub, which was a new product for me, didn't cause a skin reaction. I only thought of it after the fact.
Today, we got up and went to work. Stock stock stock. Things look good. Coffee machine is down, already. [rolleyes] We'll get it fixed. It's just drama, and I hate drama.
The other machines are fine. Stocked. I do need inventory - and like I told Ron "We can run out of Cheetos, or we can run out of Snickers, but we can't run out of both." Which means a horrific trip to the wholesale warehouse during public hours. I vastly prefer business hours.
We'll need to do that tomorrow. I'm just worn-out.
So, after work, we went to the bank. That took a while.
We had planned to get lunch but didn't have time. We did have good rides today.
The neighbor's yard guys were active, so I used my pull-out couch. I took a nap (they did our yard too for some reason), and Baby Girl joined me. She hasn't done that since the night Bubba died.
She used to try to sleep with me, but I'd roll over and squash her, in my sleep. I'd awaken to a terrible SQUEAK, and she'd flee. She gave up, after a while.
I was very touched and hated to get up.
However, we had a trip to the strip mall. We went to the pet store, and got Torbie's glucosamine treats. They work great so I'm not inclined to change them. I got a Booda Ball, which will dispense treats as they play with it - once they figure it out. I also got a Pawbreaker (you can look it up), a compressed catnip ball. Torbie loves it.
I also got some filters for the cat's water fountain. I scrub it out regularly, then fill it with filtered water (we have a faucet mount filter). That runs through a charcoal filter in the unit, which I change regularly.
I'm drinking fruit punch I made with unfiltered water.
We got dinner, and then came home. I put the pawbreaker in a box on Ron's bed. Torbie made a huge amount of racket, shaking the bed and banging around in her box. It's a hit, and Ron can enjoy her play.
I bought some Salmon-is-the-first-ingredient cat treats. Baby Girl loves them.
Torbie was busy murdering her pawbreaker. I'll try to make a video.
No one has figured out the Booda Ball. They'll probably do it in the middle of the night.
In the meantime, I have two very happy and spoiled cats.
Ron understands me better since I kind of puked the contents of my brain at him. I really wonder if it would help for him to read The Bipolar Survival Guide - would it help? Or would it just freak him out completely? I don't know. I think he might find it depressing. I don't know.
Anyway, I think I need to get better at conveying "I am having a bad day (mentally)". If he doesn't know and feels I'm snapping at him, he won't understand.
I just hate showing my belly - I've been savaged a few times. But he is my husband. I think - know, he'll want to help if he knows I'm in pain. I'm just used to hiding. It's one thing to vomit it all online - another to tell a person I am in distress, someone who already has so many problems of their own.
Well, I can try. If he's a butt, or unsympathetic, I can stop.
Thursday, June 12, 2014
Hair musings
People love my hair long. I get loads of compliments.
I find it's easier to care for long hair, than short, when depressed. Short hair, I have to wash every day and trim every month.
Long hair, I can go every other day (especially in the winter), and I don't need to trim it at all. I buy a package of elastics every year or so (the coated ones). When an elastic is overly stretched or showing the "rubber", I throw it out. Easy.
So, I'm keeping it long. I don't love it so much in the summer, but if I remember (not often), I can clip it up on the back of my head, a popular hairstyle for long-haired women in Houston.
I can play with it when I'm manic, or leave it simple when depressed.
Let's go to color: nice burgundy with orange roots. Inevitable when using henna on grey hair, which apparently means the roots at my part are a whole lot of gray.
However, when the roots grow out it's depressing: burgundy hair fading to orange, with grey/brown roots. When I'm battling a depression, or really busy at work, I don't have time to color. Or the energy.
And then I'm stuck with burgundy hair with roots. I'm of 2 opinions: color when I can, or just let it grow out.
It will look awful growing out. I hate the look of greying hair growing out after a dye job. I think it looks ghastly.
But I don't want to dye it all the time.. (whining). I don't want to be a dye slave.
Henna and dye are used interchangably here - because, as I've discovered, henna is permanent when you do it "right". I did it "wrong" before (no lemon juice, left on for half an hour) and it always washed out.
Ugh. Decisions.
I find it's easier to care for long hair, than short, when depressed. Short hair, I have to wash every day and trim every month.
Long hair, I can go every other day (especially in the winter), and I don't need to trim it at all. I buy a package of elastics every year or so (the coated ones). When an elastic is overly stretched or showing the "rubber", I throw it out. Easy.
So, I'm keeping it long. I don't love it so much in the summer, but if I remember (not often), I can clip it up on the back of my head, a popular hairstyle for long-haired women in Houston.
I can play with it when I'm manic, or leave it simple when depressed.
Let's go to color: nice burgundy with orange roots. Inevitable when using henna on grey hair, which apparently means the roots at my part are a whole lot of gray.
However, when the roots grow out it's depressing: burgundy hair fading to orange, with grey/brown roots. When I'm battling a depression, or really busy at work, I don't have time to color. Or the energy.
And then I'm stuck with burgundy hair with roots. I'm of 2 opinions: color when I can, or just let it grow out.
It will look awful growing out. I hate the look of greying hair growing out after a dye job. I think it looks ghastly.
But I don't want to dye it all the time.. (whining). I don't want to be a dye slave.
Henna and dye are used interchangably here - because, as I've discovered, henna is permanent when you do it "right". I did it "wrong" before (no lemon juice, left on for half an hour) and it always washed out.
Ugh. Decisions.
I screwed up
Last night found me gulping dinner, doing my God Time, and going to bed the minute I got home.
I just couldn't face getting online.
We took our sodas to work and stocked. I stocked snacks. I helped Ron. I took out the (trash) cardboard. Ran my ass off, running around.
Finally time to go home... but NOT!
The maintenence guys finally showed up with a cartload of supplies, headed for the coffee machine. Clearly, we can't leave now.
So, we had to cancel our pickup. But the pickup came anyway and then it appears Metrolift deleted our location because they kept calling and asking us to give the address, and describe it physically. "I'm blind. I don't know what it looks like!"
The guys were having trouble. I asked Ron to call the repairman. "He can't come out". Call! He did.
Guess who could come out in 10 minutes?
"He likes us." I told Ron.
When the maintenence guys showed, I greeted them as rescuing heroes. Yes, they have caused us a lot of grief. Yes, it's beyond absurd it took them over 2 months to run a 5 foot water hose.
They didn't need to hear that. Dale Carnagie said "Give them a reputation to live up to". So, they were the heroes, come to save us. They loved it.
I got them lunch. One of them gave me a segment of stainless water hose, connected to itself in a circle. "Oooh! Jewelry!" I put it on my arm like a bracelet as he laughed. "Don't tell my husband you gave me jewelry!" (Ron was sitting right there)
The repairman came out and oversaw everything. The maintenence guys followed him around like adoring little brothers. We had water.
We paid our guy and he left. "Don't force the buckets" he told me "When you're emptying them. You can dislodge the water hose and you'll have a mess!".
I got most of them, but a couple wouldn't break loose. I had to take out the old powders and replenish.
I told Ron what our guy said, and mentioned I couldn't get them loose. "I don't want to force it. He said not to do that." Ron called our guy.
He could come by today, he said. He also said I did the right thing.
We left a note on the coffee machine, waited quite a while, and went home.
I did my God Time and crawled into bed after eating and gulping my pills.
I got up, took my shower, and did my God Time. God only knew what today held.
I stocked a little, and the repairman came. He had a lot of trouble so I felt vindicated. Finally making coffee... but we need new powders.
We went to the warehouse. I got cream, sugar, french vanilla, Gautemala Antigua whole bean coffee, Folgers ground, a case of chips, and some candy.
I forgot the hot chocolate.
So, we got to work and half the drinks on our order board have chocolate. Crap. I had to tell Ron.
Don't you hate that, when you screw up and you have to tell someone? Oh, worst ever.
He wasn't happy.
"What do you want to do?" I asked "Call the other vendor and ask if we can buy a bag, or put up a note?"
Ron cursed a little. He didn't think the other vendor will help.
"At least ask! If he doesn't help it's on him!"
He called. He wouldn't give us a bag.
He insisted I take two. [victory sign]
They really are happy I told them about those will-calls. "We can pay them Monday."
Thank you Jesus.
I loaded it. Then the fun part. Making drinks.
"I have to do a couple test vends, right? To make sure the product is properly loaded?" Absolutely, our repairman had told me.
I had to sample 4 cups of coffee with cream and sugar. I had to sample 2 cups of French Vanilla, and one hot chocolate which tasted REALLY wierd because I'd just had a swig of my Diet Dr Pepper.
Did I mention, I hate coffee? Ron likes the espresso (that's what they call it), so I made him one. He said it was "good".
I was impressed with the body in the new coffees. It's a good strong flavor but not overpowering.
I stocked the big-hot chips (it's a variety pack and my regulars adore them) and the candy. Then someone complained. The bottle vendor shortchanged her a dime.
I evicted Ron from his wheelchair, sat in it (all the tables and chairs are fixed to each other) and used a wire to unjam the coins. Got it going (we were just a couple minutes from pickup time), gave the lady a dime after testing. Made sure it gave dimes, twice, then slid it into place, closed the machine, grabbed Ron, and ran off to our ride.
We had a really nice driver with pink hair. When we got home, she squealed with delight, seeing Baby Girl. She wanted to pet the cat. I got the treats and made sure that happened.
That's the nice thing, when the cat's a treat whore. [snicker] She's happy to have stranger petting as long as you make with the treats.
Ate a few chips, took my nap.
Thank God I have tomorrow off. Literally. It's too late to make a trip to work, now, even if we wanted to.
The machines look good. That's what matters. Everything's working.
We did it.
I just couldn't face getting online.
We took our sodas to work and stocked. I stocked snacks. I helped Ron. I took out the (trash) cardboard. Ran my ass off, running around.
Finally time to go home... but NOT!
The maintenence guys finally showed up with a cartload of supplies, headed for the coffee machine. Clearly, we can't leave now.
So, we had to cancel our pickup. But the pickup came anyway and then it appears Metrolift deleted our location because they kept calling and asking us to give the address, and describe it physically. "I'm blind. I don't know what it looks like!"
The guys were having trouble. I asked Ron to call the repairman. "He can't come out". Call! He did.
Guess who could come out in 10 minutes?
"He likes us." I told Ron.
When the maintenence guys showed, I greeted them as rescuing heroes. Yes, they have caused us a lot of grief. Yes, it's beyond absurd it took them over 2 months to run a 5 foot water hose.
They didn't need to hear that. Dale Carnagie said "Give them a reputation to live up to". So, they were the heroes, come to save us. They loved it.
I got them lunch. One of them gave me a segment of stainless water hose, connected to itself in a circle. "Oooh! Jewelry!" I put it on my arm like a bracelet as he laughed. "Don't tell my husband you gave me jewelry!" (Ron was sitting right there)
The repairman came out and oversaw everything. The maintenence guys followed him around like adoring little brothers. We had water.
We paid our guy and he left. "Don't force the buckets" he told me "When you're emptying them. You can dislodge the water hose and you'll have a mess!".
I got most of them, but a couple wouldn't break loose. I had to take out the old powders and replenish.
I told Ron what our guy said, and mentioned I couldn't get them loose. "I don't want to force it. He said not to do that." Ron called our guy.
He could come by today, he said. He also said I did the right thing.
We left a note on the coffee machine, waited quite a while, and went home.
I did my God Time and crawled into bed after eating and gulping my pills.
I got up, took my shower, and did my God Time. God only knew what today held.
I stocked a little, and the repairman came. He had a lot of trouble so I felt vindicated. Finally making coffee... but we need new powders.
We went to the warehouse. I got cream, sugar, french vanilla, Gautemala Antigua whole bean coffee, Folgers ground, a case of chips, and some candy.
I forgot the hot chocolate.
So, we got to work and half the drinks on our order board have chocolate. Crap. I had to tell Ron.
Don't you hate that, when you screw up and you have to tell someone? Oh, worst ever.
He wasn't happy.
"What do you want to do?" I asked "Call the other vendor and ask if we can buy a bag, or put up a note?"
Ron cursed a little. He didn't think the other vendor will help.
"At least ask! If he doesn't help it's on him!"
He called. He wouldn't give us a bag.
He insisted I take two. [victory sign]
They really are happy I told them about those will-calls. "We can pay them Monday."
Thank you Jesus.
I loaded it. Then the fun part. Making drinks.
"I have to do a couple test vends, right? To make sure the product is properly loaded?" Absolutely, our repairman had told me.
I had to sample 4 cups of coffee with cream and sugar. I had to sample 2 cups of French Vanilla, and one hot chocolate which tasted REALLY wierd because I'd just had a swig of my Diet Dr Pepper.
Did I mention, I hate coffee? Ron likes the espresso (that's what they call it), so I made him one. He said it was "good".
I was impressed with the body in the new coffees. It's a good strong flavor but not overpowering.
I stocked the big-hot chips (it's a variety pack and my regulars adore them) and the candy. Then someone complained. The bottle vendor shortchanged her a dime.
I evicted Ron from his wheelchair, sat in it (all the tables and chairs are fixed to each other) and used a wire to unjam the coins. Got it going (we were just a couple minutes from pickup time), gave the lady a dime after testing. Made sure it gave dimes, twice, then slid it into place, closed the machine, grabbed Ron, and ran off to our ride.
We had a really nice driver with pink hair. When we got home, she squealed with delight, seeing Baby Girl. She wanted to pet the cat. I got the treats and made sure that happened.
That's the nice thing, when the cat's a treat whore. [snicker] She's happy to have stranger petting as long as you make with the treats.
Ate a few chips, took my nap.
Thank God I have tomorrow off. Literally. It's too late to make a trip to work, now, even if we wanted to.
The machines look good. That's what matters. Everything's working.
We did it.
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
The curse of love
Ron had a horrible night - terrible neuropathy kept him up for hours. He tried to be quiet but I knew he was in a lot of pain.
I hope you never have to experience watching your soulmate in a lot of physical pain. Chronic, unending, difficulties. Strugging to get into the wheelchair, from the wheelchair to the bathroom. So, so, happy because I got the old microwave and put it within arms' reach on the countertop - putting the roll of papertowels on top. He almost cried when he saw them. "Oh, this will make things so easy."
I recently figured out how to make my music files - select my music files, as ringtones, for my phone. I chose "Alive" for Ron.
But it's sad. I hurt when he hurts - that's the curse of love. I remember thinking, after the accident, watching Ron in the hospital bed - my whole life and every emotion enslaved to his progress - I remember thinking: "I wish I didn't love him. If I didn't love him I could just walk away. I could go on and have a great life without a moment's pain."
Of course I did love him; and my care and devotion had, I'm sure, some impact on his medical care. They fought harder, seeing how hard I loved him. At one point I prevented a medication error - I was sleeping in a chair next to his bed (let's be glad I was in my 20's at the time), and the nurse came in calling Ron a different name. I woke up and yelled "That's not him!" and she said "Oops" and left. She had a big ol' needle on that tray. God knows what she would have given him.
It's been a hell of a road. He just seems to get worse and worse... Ron talks about "When I get better" and "When I'm out of the wheelchair" and I think, sadly, that's not going to happen. I keep that thought to myself.
I truly hope I'm wrong. I would love to see Ron staggering around in the backyard, "mowing". I would love to have him help me unload the truck when we do our next soda run. I would love to put the wheelchair back in the garage.
But it's been months. He's no better. The way he describes it, pain in his "run over" leg I think the nerve woke up. When he puts weight on the leg, the lower leg erupts into severe pain. It's not a sciatica type pain, it's in the lower right leg - which was broken into 3 pieces and reconstructed by a nice orthopedic surgeon. I always hoped it wouldn't "come back".
I guess it did.
It had all been nicely numb/dead for over a decade.
Ah, well. He woke up, in a good mood. Ron really has an amazing attitude so much of the time. I really admire him for that.
He's wisely not drinking more than a beer every night. He did that on his own.
This morning I got up, had a hard time getting started. Did my God Time later. Skipped the shower because I got my "shower" yesterday on the way home from work - I was drenched.
I watched some "Supernatural". Good writing and excellent acting.
We went to Walmart. We had a long ride. The driver was kind of a control freak. Paratransit doesn't care where you sit as long as the seat is empty, but she told me I had to sit in one particular seat. She put Ron in the very back. Bad idea.
Ron gets very seasick, in the back. He almost threw up, then she moved him. [rolleyes]
We finally got to Walmart. I didn't have much time.
What did I need?
I needed new shorts (modest style). My old ones are so baggy I look like a gangbanger. I can pull them off without unfastening.
I found a pair of cargo shorts and tried them on. They'll work.
I got some "darkwash" detergent because I wear a lot of black. Ron's pants get a little faded and drab, too - he wears dark colors.
I got some t-shirts. I found a really cute pocket tshirt. When I was little, I had a box of crayons, and the crayon was "Yellow orange". Nowadays, they'd probably call it "mango". It's nicely cheerful. I like it, and it has a pocket so I can wear it to work.
I wear my work keys around my neck, on a lanyard. When I kept them in my back pocket they kept digging holes in the fabric. The lanyard works and I can't lose them.
When I do lifting, the keys tend to drag and catch on whatever I'm lifting. Hence, the pocket. I can put the keys in the pocket of the pocket-t while I'm lifting, then take them out and let them hang free when I'm done.
I also needed a new navy t-shirt. I like my old one when I'm doing a henna, or doing yardwork, but the old one is full of holes - it's a rag, basically. I got that.
I even found a new bra, with a wicking fabric, support, but no underwires. Cost for everything, about $35 with tax.
[Detergent not included]
I got some food, and Ron needed 3 cases of soda for work. Since some very nice ladies have been asking for Diet Mountain Dew, and it's a good food cost, I bought a 6 pack. I also got crackers for work - a better price than the warehouse. They also have the hard-to-find cheese on cheese flavor. I also bought another scrub brush. The repairman liked the old one for cleaning the compressors, so I need another one. I have a compressor cleaning brush, and a microwave cleaning brush.
Ron needed food, I got him his beloved Jack Links Teriyaki sausage, whole wheat hot dog buns, a couple boxes of grape tomatoes, and some Jalapeno Cheetos. I forgot to get him some peach sparkling water (he didn't ask but he'd have drunk it). I can't forget the cat treats, either.
So, we got everything. The cashier was kind of dim. I won't get in her line again. She rung everything up OK, but when I asked where she put the scrub brush she said "In the Cokes". I told her I didn't buy Cokes. "In the Mountain Dew".
If you put it in the Mountain Dew why not say that?
Transactions like that make me strongly consider the self-check.
We had a good ride home with one of our favorite drivers. I put everything up and took a nap. Woke up pretty depressed, had a couple of cries over Ron's "suffering". Ron was napping.
I did laundry, poisoned the fire ants, cleaned up the front room, and put the extra wheelchair in the garage. Not bad for a day off. I also packaged our work stuff so it'll be easy transport.
Ron just told me we have an early pickup. I need to go to bed.
I hope you never have to experience watching your soulmate in a lot of physical pain. Chronic, unending, difficulties. Strugging to get into the wheelchair, from the wheelchair to the bathroom. So, so, happy because I got the old microwave and put it within arms' reach on the countertop - putting the roll of papertowels on top. He almost cried when he saw them. "Oh, this will make things so easy."
I recently figured out how to make my music files - select my music files, as ringtones, for my phone. I chose "Alive" for Ron.
But it's sad. I hurt when he hurts - that's the curse of love. I remember thinking, after the accident, watching Ron in the hospital bed - my whole life and every emotion enslaved to his progress - I remember thinking: "I wish I didn't love him. If I didn't love him I could just walk away. I could go on and have a great life without a moment's pain."
Of course I did love him; and my care and devotion had, I'm sure, some impact on his medical care. They fought harder, seeing how hard I loved him. At one point I prevented a medication error - I was sleeping in a chair next to his bed (let's be glad I was in my 20's at the time), and the nurse came in calling Ron a different name. I woke up and yelled "That's not him!" and she said "Oops" and left. She had a big ol' needle on that tray. God knows what she would have given him.
It's been a hell of a road. He just seems to get worse and worse... Ron talks about "When I get better" and "When I'm out of the wheelchair" and I think, sadly, that's not going to happen. I keep that thought to myself.
I truly hope I'm wrong. I would love to see Ron staggering around in the backyard, "mowing". I would love to have him help me unload the truck when we do our next soda run. I would love to put the wheelchair back in the garage.
But it's been months. He's no better. The way he describes it, pain in his "run over" leg I think the nerve woke up. When he puts weight on the leg, the lower leg erupts into severe pain. It's not a sciatica type pain, it's in the lower right leg - which was broken into 3 pieces and reconstructed by a nice orthopedic surgeon. I always hoped it wouldn't "come back".
I guess it did.
It had all been nicely numb/dead for over a decade.
Ah, well. He woke up, in a good mood. Ron really has an amazing attitude so much of the time. I really admire him for that.
He's wisely not drinking more than a beer every night. He did that on his own.
This morning I got up, had a hard time getting started. Did my God Time later. Skipped the shower because I got my "shower" yesterday on the way home from work - I was drenched.
I watched some "Supernatural". Good writing and excellent acting.
We went to Walmart. We had a long ride. The driver was kind of a control freak. Paratransit doesn't care where you sit as long as the seat is empty, but she told me I had to sit in one particular seat. She put Ron in the very back. Bad idea.
Ron gets very seasick, in the back. He almost threw up, then she moved him. [rolleyes]
We finally got to Walmart. I didn't have much time.
What did I need?
I needed new shorts (modest style). My old ones are so baggy I look like a gangbanger. I can pull them off without unfastening.
I found a pair of cargo shorts and tried them on. They'll work.
I got some "darkwash" detergent because I wear a lot of black. Ron's pants get a little faded and drab, too - he wears dark colors.
I got some t-shirts. I found a really cute pocket tshirt. When I was little, I had a box of crayons, and the crayon was "Yellow orange". Nowadays, they'd probably call it "mango". It's nicely cheerful. I like it, and it has a pocket so I can wear it to work.
I wear my work keys around my neck, on a lanyard. When I kept them in my back pocket they kept digging holes in the fabric. The lanyard works and I can't lose them.
When I do lifting, the keys tend to drag and catch on whatever I'm lifting. Hence, the pocket. I can put the keys in the pocket of the pocket-t while I'm lifting, then take them out and let them hang free when I'm done.
I also needed a new navy t-shirt. I like my old one when I'm doing a henna, or doing yardwork, but the old one is full of holes - it's a rag, basically. I got that.
I even found a new bra, with a wicking fabric, support, but no underwires. Cost for everything, about $35 with tax.
[Detergent not included]
I got some food, and Ron needed 3 cases of soda for work. Since some very nice ladies have been asking for Diet Mountain Dew, and it's a good food cost, I bought a 6 pack. I also got crackers for work - a better price than the warehouse. They also have the hard-to-find cheese on cheese flavor. I also bought another scrub brush. The repairman liked the old one for cleaning the compressors, so I need another one. I have a compressor cleaning brush, and a microwave cleaning brush.
Ron needed food, I got him his beloved Jack Links Teriyaki sausage, whole wheat hot dog buns, a couple boxes of grape tomatoes, and some Jalapeno Cheetos. I forgot to get him some peach sparkling water (he didn't ask but he'd have drunk it). I can't forget the cat treats, either.
So, we got everything. The cashier was kind of dim. I won't get in her line again. She rung everything up OK, but when I asked where she put the scrub brush she said "In the Cokes". I told her I didn't buy Cokes. "In the Mountain Dew".
If you put it in the Mountain Dew why not say that?
Transactions like that make me strongly consider the self-check.
We had a good ride home with one of our favorite drivers. I put everything up and took a nap. Woke up pretty depressed, had a couple of cries over Ron's "suffering". Ron was napping.
I did laundry, poisoned the fire ants, cleaned up the front room, and put the extra wheelchair in the garage. Not bad for a day off. I also packaged our work stuff so it'll be easy transport.
Ron just told me we have an early pickup. I need to go to bed.
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