Sunday, May 31, 2015

If I was telling the truth

More barking last night.  I believe the horrific storms last week unleashed a tide of freaked-out stray dogs, either that, or the dog-next-door is in heat. 

Ron and I agreed they don't seem the type to spay their pet, especially if they just bought it off a friend.  If that's true, every time she has a heat she's going to attract a lot of stray dogs.  And a loooot of barking. 

I don't know which it was, but yet again, more hours of barking.  Ron kept bugging me every couple minutes talking about the dog and making suggestions.  I finally had to tell him to please leave me alone and let me sleep.  "You'll never sleep with all that noise" he said. 

Well, I did, partly because I went to bed early.  I woke up, walking through the house, feeling so grateful it hadn't flooded. 

I just walked around thanking God, then I took my shower.  I did my God Time later. 

Last night, when  Ron was in "punishment mode" - how dare I forget 2 cases of soda, out of nearly 40?  How dare I affect perhaps 3% of our sales, for a couple of days at that? 

Anyway, he told me he was going to "make" me go to the store with his friend.  Alone.  I objected, vehemently.  I've repeatedly told Ron, the guy has expressed an interest, and I am not interested.  I've told him it makes me very uncomfortable (not because I'm tempted!) to be alone with him for that reason. 

Ron's answer to that was to tell the guy he could have sex with me, as long as Ron was allowed to watch.  Not helping!  

Also, I mentioned, I didn't like the way he ran his hand down my arm, caressingly - like a lover, yesterday, when he was "trying to get my attention".  Now, when I want to get someone's attention, I tap them on the shoulder with one finger.  He walked up alongside me, put his palm on my shoulder, and ran his hand slowly down my arm.  That's lover behavior.  That is not getting someone's attention! 

Ron got a prune face, he didn't want to believe me, so I demonstrated.  "Would you touch [the other vendor's wife] this way?"  No, he agreed. 

If I was telling the truth, (you can see why I've been so pissed at him lately), this was a problem.  This is one huge reason I don't want to be alone with the guy, I could see him trying to rape/seduce me, fighting him off, "he said/she said" and Ron would believe the other guy.  

Probably one time you don't want to be out of the closet bipolar, after a sexual assault.  Everyone's going to blame the victim.  I hope I'm wrong. 

He decided he would tell the guy that I was "weird and didn't want to be touched at all".  I told him I was fine with that.  I think Ron expected me to object.  That, in and of itself, probably "sold" him on the veracity of my claim. 

So the guy kept looking at me out of the corner of his eye, today.  I was fine with that.  I don't know what Ron told him and I don't care, as long as he keeps his hands off.   Ugh.  And he did. 

I did wake up with Torbie and Biscuit.  Torbie has been sleeping by my head, a lot, and I love that.  Biscuit likes to drape himself across my legs.  He's doing great on his canned food diet and no vomiting.  Since I'm the one who gives him the canned food, I'm his Favorite Person right now. 

When we got home, I ate and took my pills, all of them, and then took a long nap.  Someone was playing music but I slept anyway.  Tomorrow is soda delivery day, that's going to be a very early wakeup at 2 AM. 

Ideally I will go to the Acres Homes flood shelter and pass out some Bibles, but we'll see what God thinks of my plan.  It should be really easy to get there on the bus. 

Riot Act

I just read Ron the riot act, in the Sam's Club parking lot, for being verbally abusive. 

He literally told me he "Had to punish" me for forgetting the soda.  How the hell did I marry a man like that?  Who thinks he has to punish me?  He wasn't talking physically. 

He wasn't happy with our paratransit ride to the Sam's, and was so ugly to the driver.  I was embarrassed and furious on the driver's behalf.  "You know" I told Ron "You might want to watch your tone around the drivers.  If you get a reputation for being ugly you'll never lose it, and no one will want to pick you up." 

He did apologize to the driver, after we got to the destination.  But here's my attitude: why act like a shut, and then apologize?  How about you don't act like a shit to begin with? 

People are not your toilets, designed for your crap.  No, they are people with their own problems, probably worse than yours, but they're not dumping on you, are they? 

At any rate, during our ride, he was upset.  I chatted to the driver and looked out the window.  So much for my "punishment". 

Then, after I got out of the vehicle, his friend said "I will walk you to the truck, it is a short distance".  I took the walker and put it in the truck bed.  Ron got angry that I "took his walker without telling him" even though he had clearly just been informed. 

I told him, with great sarcasm "Yes, I know, everything that is wrong with your life is all my fault."  Then I went into the store.  I didn't care if his friend did get him to the truck, or he fell on the ground.  I was just done. 

He called me twice screaming at me to hurry up, in a 10 minute period.  I decided I needed to confront him. 

Once I got the merchandise stowed, I did just that.  I told him he had better watch his attitude, cut out the verbal abuse (calling it just that).  I said I didn't marry an abuser and I wouldn't stay married to one.  I will leave you, I emphasized repeatedly, if you don't stop the verbal abuse.  I didn't care about his friend, gaping at me.  I knew Ron would "attempt" to behave during a public confrontation.  He tried to put his hand on my shoulder after I got in, and I took it off. 

I didn't mention that even the most stringent religious "expert" has said I have Biblical cause to leave, and I have probably 10 people who'd help me load a truck the day I left. 

Abuse = bad = not acceptable
Stop or I will leave you. 

I kept it simple. 

He is pretty subdued at home.  He is not having his usual pity party, ugly session. 

Hopefully this will give him cause to think. 

I didn't even reference the alcoholism. 

Saturday, May 30, 2015

Whole bucket of crazy

Here's the link to my WONDERFUL bed frame.  It costs about $90 for a queen, is easy to assemble - hell, I did it after taking my medication, is fairly light (about 40 pounds), comes free UPS shipping to your door, and super, super, comfy.

I threw my very old, four inch thick foam mattress (circa 2006) on the base and have slept great every night.  I love it, and definitely recommend it.

I also love the storage.  I have 11 inch tall boxes, several of them, under the bed.  I can store clean towels, extra linens, books, etc, very easily.  I just got boxes at Walmart.

However, I think the storms have unleashed a tidal wave of stray, traumatized, dogs.  I believe one was sniffing around next door, probably hoping for a meal.  How do I know?

2+ hours of frenzied barking, well past my bedtime, last night.  I wasn't very happy.  I did, however, have Torbie in my bed, lying next to my head like my cat wife.  She is so sweet and loving.   The "worst" she's ever done is give me a speaking look when the litter box needed work.  Sort of a, "Heather, I'm so disappointed in you". 

Anyway, the cuddles redeemed what was otherwise an awful night.  Happily Ron can't hear the barking unless he's using the bathroom.  He actually went out on the porch and said something to whoever was out in front of the house. 

The day, honestly, wasn't much better.  I made a series of small mistakes: forgot my work keys, forgot to buy Dr Pepper bottles (about 7% of our sales), made a series of what he considered "stupid" mistakes, etc.  A good example is dinner.  We're eating the exact same hamburger.  I'm happy because it has plenty of sauce.  Ron complains his is "dry".  He keeps complaining while he ate.  I kept saying "Do you want me to get more sauce?"  Yes, he said.  So I got the sauce and put it on the burger, because he can't.  He yelled at me for putting "too much sauce" on the sandwich.  I tried not to receive his criticisms, out of the endless tide of haterist negativity. 

Did he say one kind word about the fact I literally busted my butt getting everything else on the list?  How I helped him with all his work, and did mine too?  How I dealt with more than one ugly-tempered customer, while remaining professional? 

Well, maybe not professional.  

One man stood next to my stockroom as I unloaded the carts, haranguing me about my "empty" vending machines, "It's about time you showed up to stock" (I stocked 48 hours ago), etc. 

I finally cut him off.  "Look," I told him.  "I bought enough for a standard week.  I didn't exactly get a memo saying 'We're going to have an epic flood'."

I told his friend I found the man "very rude" and "The next time he has a problem with the way we run our business, he needs to talk to Ron".  

"Oh, you don't understand" the guy says "He has some [mental health] issues"

I scoffed.  "I am a whole bucket of crazy."  I told him, "Bipolar with 'schitzo' on top."  He gaped. 

"You didn't know, did you?  Because I don't run around crapping on people because I'm having a bad day.  Because I take my pills, as directed."  I continued "If he really has a mental health problem, you tell him this from me: take your damned pills."   He choked. 

"OK, got it."  He started to walk away and came back.  "Can I steal that?  'Whole bucket of crazy'?"  Sure, I told him, I don't care. 

The gossip mill is already well aware of my problems. 

Sigh.  I had that, then Ron verbally abusing me, very demanding, shouting for me, yelling if I didn't appear in 3 seconds, etc.  It was very tiresome.  I especially hate it when he treats me like crap in front of the customers.  For one, I think it leads them to think they can do it, too.  "If you treat your wife that way, so can I, whenever I'm in a bad mood."  It's also embarrassing and demeaning. 

This on top of minimal sleep last night.  It was exhausting, and it would be so easy to get bitter.  But I remind myself God will hold Ron to account for his treatment. 

Today I did everything possible to be kind, helpful, understanding (except for the take your pills thing), gentle, and behave in a way that would, I felt, honor God.  I came very close to telling Ron I would walk out of work if he treated me that way.  However, he couldn't find his way to our pickup spot if I did.  That would not be pleasing to God. 

I don't give a damn about making Ron happy - to me, it's all about making God happy.  If I'm making God happy, I'm satisfied.  Ron can take a flying leap.  I resent the narcissism, resent whatever personality disorder tells him I am everything bad in his life because I forgot my keys, etc.  I won't do anything to make Ron happy - but I will to please God.  If that means "sucking it up" now and then, so be it. 

I know God will smack him in the proper timeline.  Ron is so blessed in so many ways, I am utterly devoted to him, completely loyal, he has what many would consider a very good life.  He can make a living, working part time.  That's huge.  He has meaningful work, a good wife, etc... and he just spits on it.  God doesn't like that and will deal with him accordingly. 

I don't have to get bitter.  I have to focus on pleasing God and let Him work His plan. 

We came home, I did my God Time. 

We went to the store, I left Ron at the burger place and got the cat food.  3 bags.  They eat a lot.  I also got some wet food for Biscuit.  He does better eating wet food.  Gravy likes it too, but the girls could care less. 

As I left the pet store, the sky opened up.  I stood outside in hugely humid air, scenting the rain as it poured down around me, warm on my feet in their flip flops, soaking my quick-dry t-shirt.  As I crossed the parking lot, my feet slid around, so I took off my flip flops, watched the ground carefully, and waded through the rain puddles as the rain cascaded.  It was lovely.  The temperature dropped as I crossed the parking lot, probably 20 degrees... it was fascinating.  I finally got to the burger place and sadly donned my flip-flops, still lugging my tote. 

The food I buy comes in plastic bags, so the rain didn't affect the pet products. 

Some of my happiest memories involve summer rain. 

We ate dinner, Ron did not ruin my digestion, although he tried... and we came home.  The bayou was up, we had some rain while we were gone. 

Ron started drinking and went to bed. 

He is "making" me go back to the warehouse tomorrow, to "punish" me for forgetting the soda.  [rolleyes]  I'll go because we do need it, and I can get some other things.  I forgot my sour gummy worms. 

I gave Biscuit a pouch of cat food, which he loved.  Boy, he has a very expressive tail.  He was purring loudly after he ate. 

It's nice to just be loved. 

Friday, May 29, 2015

Litter poop and a bulimic cat

In my life, even a day off...

I woke up to find Torbie lying next to me in bed, by my head.  That is my absolute favorite thing from a cat, sleeping next to my head.  I don't care if they get in my lap or even want any petting, but I love it when they sleep with me. 

That made a good start, until I found a lot of small grey feathers in the hall.  Sure enough, a blood trail led to a headless bird corpse in Ron's doorway.  I dealt with it. 

Biscuit had vomited (not bird products, he gorged on cat food).  He's a little bulimic.  He overeats and then vomits, but he's a healthy weight so I don't worry.  I cleaned up the puke (happily it was a single, dryish, lump). 

Ron was asleep, and I was a little manic.  I left him alone to sleep.  God knows I don't want to be bothered when I'm sleeping. 

I did my God Time and decided to try my shampoo cap.  Now, I like to say nice things.  So, I'll say it is probably very effective on women with shorter hair.  It didn't really do the trick for me.  I don't feel ripped off (I have 4 more), but I won't be buying any more.  It helps to remember I have oily, waist length, wavy, hair.  Like I said, I'm not hating, but it's not for me.  I may use them on Ron. 

I then watched Supernatural (the body swap episode, and the one where they go back in time to save their parents).  After the shows, I tried to take a nap.  The yard crew next door had other plans, so I took a shower and washed my hair "properly". 

In a pinch, I know I can wash my hair with a gallon or so of water, and cup, in the sink.  I did that when our drain line clogged several months ago. 

Then I tried to take a nap, but I couldn't sleep.  I figured, OK - I have a small mania here, let's use it, and did a pretty good job cleaning up the front room, while watching Grimm reruns (I never saw it the first time).  I did a pretty good job, but I did have a problem. 

I had recently purchased refills on my medication.  I couldn't find them.  I even went through the trash can, near my chair, because I recalled the medication being nearby.  I took out one bag, full of strangely sized lumps.  I prodded the bag with my hand, releasing a horrific stench.  Oh!  Yuck!  I just played with litter poop!   Ensue frantic handwashing. 

Later, I did find the medication, in the "logical" place. 

I worked on the bedroom for a while, pretty happy with the progress there. 

When I have a very small mania, like this, I have the energy, creativity, and motivation to do all those things that need to happen.  I try to use it to catch up on housekeeping and other "necessary" tasks. 

I am taking time to have fun as well. 

[sigh]  This is why so many bipolars don't want to take their medication - a small mania is great.  Loads of energy, everything's fun, even cleaning the litter box. 

I try to ride it, and enjoy it, all while staying properly medicated (and my levels are perfect per my last blood test). 

God knows the depression is coming. 

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Let's hear it for the bayou

I'm not feeling inspired but I'll try to do you justice. 

I didn't sleep well.  I didn't shower. 

One reason: I bought some no rinse shampoo caps.  I am curious to see how they might work in a tough situation.  I'm going to "let" my hair get pretty awful and then try one.  If it doesn't work I can always jump in the shower. 

We have had various plumbing issues, etc.  It would be handy to have something on hand for a situation like that. 

As we left for work, I noticed the bayou has dropped to near-normal levels.  Good to know.  Even the news guys are saying "The bayous are fine".  Let's hear it for the bayou. 

We went to work, got the sandwiches, and I stocked them all.  I am pretty much out of snack inventory.  We did a little better than anticipated. 

I helped Ron do the inventory and stock, once I finished snacks. 

At one point, I had brought Ron a handcart with several cases of cold drinks.  He stocked the water, shut the door, and locked the machine, as I stood by approvingly. 

I turned around and realized the cart was still full of drinks, and began laughing.  Ron heard me and put the pieces together, laughing himself, and opened the machine, reaching for the cart handle. 

"I don't see how they let us live on our own" I choked. 

Things have been pretty good at work.  I started bringing in dish soap, which has been popular. 

I only had one small issue, one of the new guys (a transfer) approached me and demanded I "bring him one of those cups, honey".  He wanted me to give him free cups for the ice machine.  We don't do that. 

WHY would we do something that can take away sales?  That's just stupid, not to mention the cost of goods.  "Those cups" (for the coffee vending machine) cost over $150 a case.  I'm not handing them out to anyone. 

I told him no, he got an attitude, went and asked the other vendor, who ALSO told him no.  Sorry, new facility.  Maybe the other vendor gave you handouts but he's out of business. 

At another point, he came to me and informed me Ron had "spent all day on the phone".  I just looked at him, blankly.  Later on, in the man's view, I made a point of cuddling with Ron just in case he hadn't figured out we're married, and Ron's the boss. 

People haven't figured it out, if you attack one of us, we close ranks.  It's a good thing, and a bad one.  Ron and I have a unique bond based on interdependence, empathy, and mutual understanding. 

At any rate, we got it all done.  We had a good ride to Walmart with a driver we like. 

I had about an hour and a half at Walmart.  I needed some atypical things so I really needed the time.  I got everything on the list, but I did forget a few small items. 

Oh, well, there's always next time. 

I checked out, flinched over the total (but it wasn't that bad because Ron got a lot of stuff, and paid me back), and left.  We had a good ride home.  The driver's a lot like Ron, one of those nearly bald guys, growing out what little hair he has left.  I like Ron's ponytail better. 

I got home and put everything away (including 28 pounds of cat litter!), put the milk in the fridge, and Ron's TV dinners in the freezer.  He got a Sausage and Chicken Gumbo (I know he likes it so I encouraged him to purchase), 3 Jimmy Dean Steak Bowls (he adores them, and they have vegetables), and the Nighthawk Top't Chop't steak dinner (it has a cheesy potato casserole and a formed steak patty in gravy).  They all cost about $3 each. 

Ron's happy, a good dinner, and I don't have to cook or do dishes when I'm depressed. 

Then we got a takeout lunch from the deli.  I forgot (!!!) I can't do chicken strips with the lithium.  Lithium hates chicken.  Pretty queasy still.  

I took a nap, a couple of hours.  I really needed it.  When the dreams started getting strange I got up. 

I'm tired.  I'm queasy.  But I have tomorrow off. 

I did get a little energy just now, so I cleaned the shower, cleaned the drains (all 3), emptied "my" sink, treated the dishwasher with a little bleach solution prior to running a cycle, loaded the dishwasher, and got some laundry started. 

Nice to have a little energy now and then.  Too early to call it a mania, but like I tell Ron "When I get energy I do whatever I can to clean up." 

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Eat the floor clean.

More rain, no damage to our area. 

Went to the bank, got paid. 

Went to the mall (Ron's idea).  He got a lot of takeout and should be set for nearly a week.  He likes the food court. 

I came home and got a mild nap.  Got up, did my God Time.  Computer. 

I kind of choked, doing it, but I bought 100 really nice whole Bibles with imitation leather covers, all different colors (mainly black, and purple), in a couple different translations.  Those will be huge with the recipients.  I had to remind myself, repeatedly, the sponsor wanted me to do this. 

I had some fun talking to Ron, watched a little TV.  I didn't assemble the treat ball correctly.  It is a ball, with a hole.  Kitty rolls it around and gets treats. 

I threw it in the hall and it blew apart (separated).  Treats EVERYWHERE.  Boy, the cats had a lot of fun with the cleanup.  Being lazy, I just let them eat the floor clean. 

That was pretty much my day, except for one thing.  I had laid out my clothes on the bed, donned my shorts, and hunting for my bra.  I couldn't find it anywhere. 

I was upset.  I had just had it on the bed, and it was gone.  It didn't walk off!  I was frustrated because I had just lost my pocketknife the other day, too. 

My butt felt kind of strange, and I reached back.  And found the bra hanging out behind me like a tail!  I had a good laugh showing Ron, who said he felt that wouldn't be a good look, for the bank! 

[snort]  Not bad, overall.  I even found my pocketknife, later. 

Tuesday, May 26, 2015


Well, I admit it. 

I was going to flake on my God Time today. 

However, I checked my email.  "Anonymous" made a very large donation to the Handouts.  VERY large.  Like, larger than my mortgage large. 


Well, if I'm going to represent I'd better do just that.  Of course I had to take a cruise past Lifeway's Bible Sale room - and they have some awesome Bibles on sale.  The transfer processes tomorrow; and I will be smoking that debit card like a hot link. 

I'm trying to wrap my poor medicated brain around $3.50 per Bible, plus shipping, into donation equals how many Bibles? 


I'm pretty sure you read here, and thank you! 


Big Evil

 Storm damage
Unfortunately, Gravy melted. 

We had a big storm system.  We knew about this for days. 

Years ago, before Tropical Storm Allison, I told Ron, "It looks like a dull, boring, evil".  We have a unique method of communication.  You should hear us in person, speaking our patois. 

Anyway, as it turns out Allison was the harbinger of a 500 year flood.  It was epic.  We had to walk out of work, over 12 miles, along the overpasses.  Long, long, walk.  I learned a little about prepping for disaster in that day. 

So, "evil" is a multi use word; one definition: Bad storm. 

I told Ron "Big Evil is almost here" when we went to bed.  Sure enough, it started a while later. 

If you ask Ron about the storm, he'll complain about #2's car alarm, kept going off.  We also had pretty gusty winds.  Pretty safe bet, I've found, over 50 mph winds will blow open the cat door inside the house.  I had that. 

It was the usual, big, bad-ass thunderstorm.  However, it stuck around, pouring, for hours.  Houston had pretty significant flooding. 

We did not, as I've shown.  Except for poor melted Gravy. 

Now, the next day Ron called paratransit.  Open for business, ride coming about 6:30.  Yes, things were bad but we basically were going from NW to NE, not through the bad spots. 

We went to work, stocked. 

No ride home.  Ron called, the company had cancelled all rides, including ours, leaving us effectively stranded.   Not Happy, either of us. 

Now, worst case, when "it" hits the fan, I would walk home, pushing Ron in the wheelchair.  But traffic was still present, and it was completely unsafe. 

Besides, it helps to have a tool in your box, so to speak.  We called a cab, paid for ourselves, and it arrived in 4 minutes.  A wheelchair cab, even. 

So, other than being completely stranded at work by the paratransit company, it was a good day. 

Monday, May 25, 2015

Good for me

Ron, I've begged him, "Please don't say 'the dog has been so quiet lately'."  Whenever you do that, she barks all night long. 

Sure enough, he went there, and she did. 

It wasn't a total loss, I mean, I had the headache anyway, which morphed into "the migraine".  So, if I had to be sleep deprived AND migraine this week, I got it all over with today.  I believe it's the weather front we have inbound. 

We had to go to the warehouse.  Then we went to work.  I bought some snack products. 

I am working on becoming a better listener.  I think I am, because one of the employees talked to me for 20 minutes, about his dog.  I'm not really a fan of dogs but I listened anyway. 

"What was I going to do, read my Kindle?"  It's kind of an iffy neighborhood, I wouldn't want to let my guard down and get robbed.  I'm very fond of my (base model) Kindle. 

We got to work, things had been somewhat busy.  I helped Ron first, then did my work.  I may restructure that way.  Ron was a lot happier, and he didn't "bother" me while I was doing snacks.  I had time to do ALMOST everything. 

People have been bugging us for juice drinks.  We don't have room in the stockroom, or in the fridge.  We carry, Ron told me, 15 different drinks already.  I refer them to the other vendor. 

It wasn't much fun working with the headache but it did dial down after I got a BC powder.  Ron keeps some in his fannypack for me.  They are more compact than tablets. 

We did nearly everything, but we're going back tomorrow.  I at least put some food out, and got all the drinks done. 

We came home.  I was worried the neighbors might make racket - but they were leaving on an outing.  I had a good, 3 hour nap (remember I didn't sleep last night). 

I may get a package today.  If so it should arrive around now, but it is a holiday.  Oddly enough, I did get my shampoo caps from Amazon yesterday. 

A Sunday.  I guess I'm in the 7 day delivery area. 

The shampoo caps are great if I oversleep and need to "wash" my hair.  They apparently get the hair very nice in just a few minutes.  I'll let you know when I use them. 

[sigh]  Still getting over my virus, still tired, still depressed, still here. 

The cats are great, though.  I just saw Biscuit running down the hall, his tail held high like a flag.  Baby Girl is taking advantage of her injury to steal my chair.  Torbie took a nap with me and Gravy was just stalking a toy.  I cleaned the boxes, Ron fed them, and I changed their water bowl. 

Life is good, for them, and that means it's good for me. 

Sunday, May 24, 2015

I must be over my virus

Depression's back. 

I must be over my virus.  :p  Too bad I can't lick The Illness as easily, but bipolar's for life. 

Anyway, a rough start to last night.  Some things I won't reveal. 

I did get my sleep, however a big storm system rolled in around 6:30 this morning.  We lost power for about 20 minutes, not a big deal. 

I think you're figured by now I try to plan for worst-case, and deal with it.  I did that.  I have a nifty flashlight I can strap to my head.  The dork factor is incredible, but it works great. 

I couldn't get back to sleep.  I was pretty depressed, so I did my God Time, watched some TV, internet.  I tried to take a nap.  That didn't work too well due to various neighbor "rackets".  I think the guy next door would be horrified if he knew how much I heard through my bedroom wall, but there's no way to tell him without looking like a whiner. 

The guy down the street was playing loud Mexican music.  Funny, the guys I know are veterans didn't make any noise at all. 

I did my best to ignore it.  I'm pretty depressed, pretty fatigued (pretty standard!), but trying to stay busy. 

Ron ordered a book on addiction.  He told me he's found it very interesting, the case study is basically describing his entire childhood.  I hope he finds it a useful tool. 

I have to step back, pray, NOT enable, and let Ron find whatever path God has for him.  The sad thing with addiction, much like my illness, it's never gone.  One can go into remission for a while, but it's waiting to roar back. 

I'm sure not going to interrupt him, reading it. 

Other than that, I had some good time with the cats, cleaned up the front room a bit, working on the bedroom, laundry. 

I wish I could have spent the whole weekend in bed but it didn't work out that way.  However, tomorrow is not a long day, at work. 

Saturday, May 23, 2015

"Just tell me and I'll stop"

So, Ron's friend once made advances to me when we were alone in the car. 

Ron thought it was "cool" that the man thought I was "hot", and at a later point, said "I wouldn't mind if Heather had sex with you, as long as I got to watch."  How's that for a good Christian witness?  How's that for making me look like a whore?  Never ever ever in a million years.  

I'm not in the least attracted to him.  It's not a physical thing either. 

I am not a cheater.  

Anyway, he has referred to Ron as "A major alcoholic".  A couple months ago, Ron called him, whining he was tired of using paratransit. 

Now, the devil wants Ron drinking.  He usually has "fantastic" turn-around trips where he barely has time to pay for the alcohol before his ride home.  That wasn't good enough.  He wanted a driver. 

So, he pays this guy to drive him to the liquor store.  He calls the liquor store and they "hold" his stuff.  I don't know how he pays because I don't come along. 

Once, once, this guy tricked me into coming along, Ron said the other guy would go in and pay.  Then we got there and the guy told me to go.  Got a real attitude too.  I don't get in the vehicle if they are going, anymore.  Fool me once. 

This is a man who knows Ron has blackouts, is abusive, when he drinks.  If I don't want to help him drink I probably have a very good reason, and that's what I say to the drivers. 

"Why don't you help him buy alcohol?"
"I must have a very good reason." 

No one has ever asked for details.  About this time Ron shows up and has hysterics when he finds we are discussing his drinking habits.   He tries to do damage control; not understanding - I don't talk about it in person, but I do online. 

He talks about getting online.  I wonder what he would think if he read some of these posts on drinking. 

Anyway.  When the man agreed to help Ron, he said "Now, if he has a blackout, just let me know". 

What a game.  You know he's going to have a blackout, especially when you see he's lugging a GALLON of 80 proof at a time.  What the hell kind of game is that? 

What's next, he comes over and helps me pour it out?  Then I cry all over his shoulder, he puts his arm around me, and...

HELL no. 

He called today while Ron was shouting.  I answered the phone and said, calmly "This is a bad time".  Ron shouted something.  "Do you want to talk to him?"  No?  I related that, said goodbye, and hung up. 

Ugh.  I hate games almost as much as I hate alcohol. 

Surely, he has figured out Ron was having a blackout. 

Sad and Tired

"Why is the floor wet?" 

You peed on it. 

"Why were you mad?" 

You can trash any room in the house during your blackouts.  Any room.  The kitchen.  The front room (boy he got both), the laundry room, the computer room (I found him trying to urinate in my CPU this morning), your room, the bathroom.... any room in the house. 

But mine is off limits.   Stay out of my room. 

He didn't, but I managed to stop him in time. 

What I don't get is the falling down on the tampons, crushing them, throwing them all over like confetti... what's the deal?  Because they go "down there?"  [shaking head] 

Yes, I started my cycle.  I need to keep them in the bathroom so I can use them. 

Apparently that's a problem for him. 

It's ironic.  When I saw the guy across the street was having a party, I worried he might "make noise".  No, HE didn't, but Ron sure did, falling, cursing, banging around.  If we lived in an apartment he would be evicted for disturbing the neighbors. 

As it is, it's a miracle #2 didn't shoot him when Ron went over there every night, banging on the doorbell, shouting about their barking dog -which of course fed the dog's energy into yet more barking. 

Yes, every night.  For months. 

I don't know what I would have done. 

What I do know, he's sitting on the edge of the bed, half naked, verbally abusing me.  I believe he feels I am "judging" him.  He asked me if I thought I was a POS, when I said no he gave me an extensive lecture/tirade.  I finally put my headphones on. 

Apparently, the correct answer was "Yes, I am a POS".  I'm not.  I'm a child of God, He died for me.  I have value and worth. 

Do I think I'm better than anyone?  No. 

Am I judging him?  No. 

I am profoundly sad, and tired. 

Friday, May 22, 2015

I wish every girl...

I never figured it out until years later. 

I was 8.  One my my new female friends seemed very sexually precocious.  We discussed it constantly, but I was pretty clueless outside of the mechanics.  She was the one who told me "It hurt". 

I went home and asked my (adoptive) Mom, who confirmed the fact, and then asked where I'd heard it.  When I told her, she got a pensive look.  We had a few sleepovers, on my end, and hers. 

She was, overall, the kind of kid you don't want around your own child.  She talked me into breaking rules, and got me in trouble on more than one occasion.  

The most memorable incident, we were walking to my house.  "The Garden Lady"'s yard was in full bloom.  She had a huge showplace that must have been a full time job. 

"Jenny" talked me into entering her yard (strictly forbidden by my parents - entering any neighbor's yard without permission), and picking some flowers "For your Mom". 

Mom immediately recognized the flowers and read me the riot act.  She chased Jenny off, and I got a spanking while she was still within earshot. 

Jenny, was on probation (not her real name and no relation to my character name in Broken). 

After my punishment ended, Jenny invited me over.  She was strangely invested in it, almost frantic. 

She had two twin beds, but insisted I sleep on the floor, "Right by the doorway" her voice high and tearful. 

I was a pretty compliant kid, I set up on the floor as directed.  She didn't want to talk, and I fell asleep after a busy day. 

A few hours later, I was awakened by the door swinging open and hitting my sleeping bag, then a large foot prodding my form as I lay in the doorway.  "Who the hell are you?" a loud male voice enquired. 

It was about 11 PM.

I explained I was Heather, Jenny's friend, and we were having a sleepover? 

"I didn't give permission for that!" he bellowed.  He demanded my phone number and called my parents, who picked me up. 

"I don't ever want her here again" he shouted, as Mom loaded me into the car. 

When I got home, Mom sat me down at the kitchen table and asked some very careful questions.  As the details spilled out, she became more concerned.  No, he had never touched me, except with his foot a little while ago.  Yes, she knew a lot about sex.  She was the one who said it hurt....

Was there anything else? 

One of the older siblings walked through the kitchen, after a glass of milk.  "Oh, Jenny.  She's the one who gave you the lice, right?" 

"She doesn't have lice!" I replied indignantly "She has crabs!"

Mom almost fell out of her chair.  "Do you know what that is?" 

No, but she told me she had them.  

No, she didn't tell me who gave them to her. 

Yes, she's afraid of her Dad.  She almost cried when she made me sleep on the floor. 

I don't know what happened, but Jenny ended up in foster care. 

See, that's what a Mom does when a child is exposed to a predator, they stop it immediately.  Had Mom gone into denial mode I probably would have been molested, too. 

I won't talk about recent cases; just say I got that, with all my screwed up childhood drama.  I knew she would protect me from sexual predators. 

I wish every girl had that confidence. 

Magic spit

Ron has been dying for a Carl's Junior breakfast.  I didn't have much appetite, and ate half a hamburger, glad I'd found my 12-hour "mucus relief" pills.  I can get a little congested without them at present. 

He got his loaded burrito and his own drink (pretty stupid to share with me sick).  He also ate what I believe was a large order of tater tots.  He groaned with joy as he finished, and collapsed into a happy carb coma when he got home. 


We had to go to work.  We had to at least do an inventory.  I was "pretty sure" we had "everything" but they don't want to hear it when you're out of their drink!

Did I want to go?  No.  I still feel exhausted and mildly feverish.  The last thing I wanted to do was work. 

Happily, I do not have a headache.  Still "just" the fatigue, dry cough, mild fever, and congestion (moderate).  I also have anorexia - no appetite, which is typical when I am "pretty sick". 

Focusing on the positive: no headache, no abdominal pain, no nausea or vomiting.  I usually get multiples of that when I'm really sick.  I don't have a runny nose, either, and even the sore throat is gone.  

Last night, Ron bought me 2 large pizzas on special.  He ate a couple slices of the bacon cheeseburger pizza.  I can eat a slice or two, enjoy it, with medication, and get a fairly decent amount of protein.   He tries to take care of me when he can. 

I thought about getting a shake, which did look good, but reminded myself sugar impedes the immune system.  If I want to get better, I need to avoid sugar. 

I may have a little ice cream later.  Making sure I have a small portion. 

Ugh.  I just have a general lousy feeling. 

My mood is OK considering.  It always is, when I'm sick. 

So, we came home from Carl's.  I did my God Time.  I had woken up "on time" and apologized to God, reminding Him I'm sick, and back to sleep until Shower Time. 

I was happy to get my quality time in there. 

Torbie and Biscuit have been my faithful companions in all of this (Biscuit is the "grayer" one of the boys), sleeping with me whenever I lie down. 

I didn't sleep. 

We went to work.  It was a little busy, enough to relieve me, but not so busy I couldn't stock.  I had time to help Ron, do the inventory, and use my first aid kit on someone else.  That's why I keep it. 

We realized we don't "really" need anything tomorrow, so I got the day off.  Yippie. 

We came home, I ate some pizza, took my meds, and went to bed.  Biscuit joined me some time later.  I guess Torbie was "busy".  She did make a production out of showing up right when I got up. 

I think it is nice for her that Biscuit takes up some of the load.  I like having a cat nearby when I sleep, work on the computer.  They don't have to get in my lap or follow me around, but I like having them around.  They are happy to oblige. 

Baby Girl, and Gravy, are bonded to Daddy.  Baby Girl's tail is looking a lot better, and I noticed she spent a lot of time grooming the injured area.  Good.  Cats have magic spit - it can heal anything. 

She has been stealing my TV chair, and since she's sick, I'll let her.  I can sit in my folding chair and watch.  I don't mind.  I am honored she wants to sit in a place that smells like me.  She doesn't have to do that.  She could sleep anywhere.  She has 2 kitty condos, two loveseats, two beds, a window seat, the garage.. but she picked MY chair. 

I am touched. 

Thursday, May 21, 2015

Still sick

Still sick.

Dry cough.
Sneezing a lot.
No real appetite.  

Sore throat is better but not all the way.  I am taking tons of supplements in addition to my regular routine. 

Day off; but Ron's cat injured her tail and had to go to the vet.  She was apparently bitten by a stray dog.  The tail base area is inflamed and her tail sprained.  She still has nerve function in her tail, but it's injured.

Can't put her in a tail brace, but "we" got a shot of antibiotics to prevent an infection.  "This is a really bad area for an abscess" she told me with concern.  The vet was very happy we brought BG in when we did.

Ron bought me some pizza.  I don't have an appetite, sure didn't want to cook, but I have to eat so I can take my pills.

I was just teasing Ron about his "Golden Girl" due to the vet bill (about $100).  She seems to be OK.  I am sure she'll make a good recovery.  It's just hard to see her poor bruised tail.

I had a nice nap with Torbie, and Biscuit even came and laid on my legs while I slept.  

I have to work tomorrow, but not long. 

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

"The Alcoholic Special"

Ron was disappointed he had already finished his bottle of brandy.  "That went fast". 

"Well," I responded.  "It did taste good." 

"I don't care about that..." Ron whined.  He called the liquor store, requesting something "Bigger and cheaper". 

"Ron" I suggested calmly "Tell him you want 'The Alcoholic Special', a big, cheap..."  Ron related that and the manager erupted in laughter.  They have that, he assured Ron, and gave him some names. 

Oh, boy. 

"You can't drink!"

On occasion, I use a protein gel (the Six Stars brand).  It is very tasty, albeit an odd texture.  Encouraged by that, I had purchased some vials of protein liquid (another brand) to drink, also fruit flavored, in large vials. 

I figured one was good, the other'd be too, and I'd left the gels at work.  Sick, I knew I needed my protein but I had zero appetite so I didn't want to eat. 

But I needed my protein.  The solution seemed obvious. 

I cracked a vial (about 4 ounces) and took a swig.  Hmmm.  Notes of cat urine, pine based cleanser, and chemical meltdown, all in a slimy stew of fruitish uck!  I gagged it down.  The flavor did not dissipate.  I drank some tea.  The flavor did not dissipate. 

My throat already hurt, I did not want to vomit, but the horrific "flavor" lingered, persisting like a rejected stalker.  I tried to spit, and gazed around the kitchen in desperation. 

I saw Ron's flask of brandy as he set it back on the counter, snatched it, and took a sip.  Ah!  The Ukrainian brandy (thanks whoever made it, I know I get some Ukrainian traffic), did the job.  My mouth filled with brandy notes instead.  It seemed to be nice brandy.

Ron had hysterics.  "What are you doing?

"Getting the taste out of my mouth."  For the record, that was almost as bad as the time I tried dessicated liver. 

"You can't drink!"

Yes, I can.  I just don't.  With my family history, and the statistics stating 80% of fetal alcohol victims become addicts, I've abstained... but it doesn't mean I can't.

I just found it hysterical, here's a hard-core alcoholic, one who told me if I had taken him on Intervention he would have left me so he could continue drinking - objecting to me using literally a teaspoon of brandy to get a bad taste out of my mouth. 

It made me realize; he knows he is highly dependent on me.  I think that's one reason he is pretty sour with me being sick. 

I also understand his God issues.  I wrote this on a message board last night:

My husband has a lot of issues with God. He loves that I am a woman of faith, but it infuriates him.

If he had his way I would never do my Bible study, prayer, have faith in, trust, or have anything nice to say about God. Or so it seems the majority of the time.

He will even yell and grit his teeth if I say nice things about God.

Now, I honor God before my husband. So, my husband just has to "deal" with my faith. I get up and do my Bible study/prayer time before he wakes up.

He would heckle, interrupt, and make constant comments, ask for help, etc..if he knew I was "doing it". One time he played an explicit sex scene from a book, at high volume, "forgetting" I was "busy". One reason I keep my earplugs next to my Bible.

So, I either "do it" while he's asleep, or I don't tell him what I'm doing. I tell him I'm "in the computer room" because the ensuing drama, tirades, and complaints are not worth telling the entire truth. He assumes I am online, he respects that.

I even told him this; and said I felt like I had to "sneak around with God like He's another man". He told me that was wrong, of course not, yet if I told him I was doing my God Time guaranteed he would be bothering me in 2 minutes.

Sadly, my husband is a believer, does have faith, and I believe trusts God. However, he lets his anger at God "allowing" his injuries, and my disability, cloud his mind to everything.

I could have easily let this impede my walk with God.

But I have made serving and pleasing God ALONE my #1 priority.

Monday, May 18, 2015

Please don't let me...

I had a hard time falling asleep. 

Ron woke me up, my bladder, and I kept hearing someone driving around playing loud music.  The latter was explained: our basketball team won a championship game. 

I slept horribly, but I had Torbie. 

I woke up feeling as though I'd swallowed razor blades - my throat killing me.  I had a nasty, dull, headache and dry cough.  I didn't whine.  I felt even more fatigued than usual.  I don't know if I had a fever or hot flashes, but it wasn't fun.  I also, at different points, had chills. 

Still had to work.  Did.  Didn't whine.  I'm very proud of that. 

I have spent all day begging God: please don't let me get anyone sick.  Please. 

We had a lot of rain, while at work, but I got both deliveries, put them away, stocked, and helped Ron.  I was pretty happy to leave.

Our ride was waiting for us.

Thank God we had straight trips both way.  Whatever this is I don't want to spread it.

I went home, straight to bed.

#6 woke me up with their yard guy.  They made a lot of noise and seemed to take an undue amount of time for what's a very small yard - nearly an hour.

That got Ron thinking, we need a yard guy.  I found a couple on Craigslist, one came by, and we like him.  He seems like a nice young guy and will be doing the yard tomorrow.  Good.  We're going to get lions out there.

I was delighted to find a very large toad in my yard.  They eat a ton of nasty bugs.

The new yard guy will charge the same as the old guy.   Great.  He is also local.

When the old guy is better, if he still wants the account, we'll be happy to go back.  I just need something now.

I can tell I'm sick - I have no appetite and hardly any thirst.  Very unusual.  I have been gagging down liquids, herb tea, etc.  Dehydration is Very Bad with my medication. 

I have to eat so I can take my mood stabilizers.  I wouldn't eat, otherwise.

I settled for a pizza.  I got a stuffed crust with pepperoni, salami, ham, and bacon.  Very good.  I ordered a 20 ounce diet and they upsized me to a 2 liter (I guess they didn't have any 20's).  I accepted.

I ate 2 slices, took my pills, and drank yet more liquid.  I spent a little time online.

I have some fun stuff coming the next couple days. 

I hope I feel better by then.  

Sunday, May 17, 2015

Niacin flush

Tired.  Depressed.  I woke up with a tickle in my throat, which I pray is not the onset of some infection. 

If so, I probably picked it up at Walmart.  Last week, I had Ron in the kiddie cart at the Walmart, about the same time the "Senior Pines" upscale nursing home showed up on one of their runs.  It is very sad to see them waiting on the bus, shopping alone, etc. 

One lady and I met.  She was on an electric cart, in the middle of the aisle as I came around the corner with Ron in the kiddie cart.  "Oh!  That looks like fun!" she exclaimed. 

Her mood became somber "I wish I had someone to take me around on that!"  I assured her she was "next" after I "finished with him" and I'd buy her an ice cream if she "behaved".  She beamed at me as Ron laughed. 

A small boy gaped at us later, and I smiled.  "It's funny" I told Ron.  "Before medication, I'd have been furious.  After, I just smile." 

No, it doesn't really alter my mood, as much as it takes the crap out of my head. 

Anyway, I did a lot of housework.  Recently I opened the dryer, and found a horrifying sight.  I use the dryer rarely, it has probably been years.  It was full of multicolored, fuzzy, mold.  It also had a terrible odor.  I've run some cycles with good cleaner, and plan to keep it up. 

I don't want to break it. 

I also did laundry and did up my pills-of-the-week.  I found out my multivitamin is low in niacin.  I decided to take one of my b-50's, and got a niacin flush, a horrific, hour long hot flash.  Miserable. 

I watched a couple episodes of Law & Order while I worked. 

I tried to take a nap.  Couldn't.  Ron woke up and wanted to chat. 

I told him some internet gossip I had seen on my boards (all non-confidential stuff), he started drinking.  He is onto brandy now.  Brandy is apparently delicious with everything, except for bananas. 

I plan to do some organizing under my bed, and finish the laundry.  I want to get my new pants washed. 

Saturday, May 16, 2015

Ghetto pants

I am wiped out. 

Truck day.  I got up 4-5 AM, Ron distracted me talking about the Terrible Book he was reading.  I realized, in horror, I had missed the time I had to shower. 

Ron has some "bath wipes".  I used those, but no help for my hair (Amazon does have a quickie hair cleanse shower cap product.  I plan to buy a few and will let you know how they work on my long, thick, greasy hair.)  As it was, I had to make do.  Hm. 

I put on a double layer of deodorant.  White Tea and Lavender Crystal Deodorant (always very effective), topped by a layer of Secret Power Fresh spray.  I did not want to stink.   It worked. 

We went to the warehouse.  I was pretty pissed when I found out they were out of both Coke, and Sprite, 24 count bottles.  Last week it was Diet Coke.  They seem to have ongoing, pointless, supply issues. 

Let me say, if I left my vending machines that badly stocked, I'd be thrown out of the building - and they should!  I was pretty disgusted, even more so when Ron sent a mid-level manager to find me, via a phone call. 

"We don't have any" she told me. 

I waited for the explanation, or the apology. 

"You don't have either the Coke, or the Sprite?"  She nodded, smirking. 

"And that's OK with you?  I have customers.  They expect fully stocked vending machines and you're hurting me here." 

"Well" she got an attitude.  "We have cans.

"I don't need cans.

Needless to say (and not complaining), we are looking for another warehouse.  Why should we give them (more than my take home) every month if they can't even keep the basics in stock? 

Yeah, Fig Newtons.  I can understand that - but you can make damned sure I never run out of my staples! 

That's as bad as last week, when the cashier whined I had too much stuff.  I had about half my usual order.  I tried to explain basic economics - I buy a lot of stuff, you keep your job; I don't, you get laid off.  It just rolled off. 

Happily, our new guy-with-a-truck was waiting with Ron when I checked out.  We were done loading, driving (him of course) and unloading (all me) in less than an hour, and he made $30.  Good deal all around.  He was surprised, I think, that we didn't want him to do more, but we really only need a driver. 

God knows I can use the exercise - which reminds me.  Lately I have been plagued with a bad case of ghetto pants.  My pants are sagging and falling off.  I needed something that actually fit before I start exposing my underwear. 

From what I can recollect of my last measurements, I have apparently lost some "inch" off my butt.  My 2012 capris are falling off, and the stuff I bought a few months ago is even baggier.  After work, we went to Walmart.  I got 2 pair of 20W summer pants.  One fit great, the other is a bit tight.  That's good, though, because a lot of time they phase out the summer stuff when it's still warm, I'm wanting something smaller, and I have nothing but the old baggies to wear. 

So: good news, DID find a pair of cute bermudas I can wear for a while, and I have something smaller when I "lose" out of them. 

I am very, very, active at work, lifting many cases of heavy drinks, running around pushing carts, pushing Ron in the wheelchair, standing the whole time, walking, lifting, you name it.  I don't wonder how I'm losing weight, when I sure haven't changed my diet! 

Back to work, did it all.  I stocked everything, helped Ron (a full time job by itself), rotated the inventory, got the inventory put up (not easy in a tiny stockroom).  I did have a few difficult people.  One refused to understand I have a tiny stockroom and cannot stock everything, everyone, wants.  I reminded him the other vendor has 37 vending machines full of the item he sought. 

"I don't want to walk over there" he whined.  I turned and looked in the vending machine before he could see my expression. 

Another guy came over, chatting, and Ron roared over in the wheelchair "Is there a problem!?"  He is pretty protective at times. 

"You need to listen" I told him later "To tone of voice.  You know what I sound like, upset.  If you hear that come on over, ASAP."   He nodded.  "I just don't want people bothering you!" 

I thought it was sweet.  He plied me with Diet Dr Peppers, my favorite.  We finally got it all done, praise God.  We staggered out, exhausted.  Ron whined about the heat.  I put him under the oak tree and sat on his walker.  I need to start bringing my folding chair on Truck Day. 

I ate a bunch of (nutritional crap, but very tasty) junk food today, even when I took my pills.  The only thing I can claim for "nutrition" being the protein gel - 20 grams.  It was good.  I put more on my list for Walmart, and got some bars as well. 

Our driver got a little confused finding us but we got home OK.  We had a turnaround trip to Walmart because my medication had come in.  I like to get it as fast as possible - I wasn't out but I don't even want to get near that.  I remember they were having problems with generic Lithium for a while, and Haldol a few years later. 

It's really alarming, as a person with mental illness, completely dependent on drugs to keep my sanity, to hear "Oh, sorry, it isn't in yet".  I have nightmares I can't get my medication. 

I'm only as good as my next dose (that would be a good title) and I know it.  Anyway, I found a kiddie cart (nicely unexpected, considering it was a late Saturday afternoon) and took him around.  People seem to find us cute when I have him in the cart.  I threw 2 pair of 20W's in my cart, and am happy with them both, for different reasons. 

Ron wanted more apples (I have to say his leg ulcer is almost healed, and I attribute a lot of that to his increased fruit intake) and some bananas.  I selected some good ones.  He loved that.  He loves eating them, too. 

He does say "Don't get the ones in the plastic bag already.  The loose in the bin ones are better."  When I pick them!  I avoid the unripes, bruises, etc.  I like to nurture. 

Speaking of nurturing, my cat Torbie has become a fan whore.  She lays in front of it constantly, rejecting her spot in my bed at night.  I miss her, but she does show up sometimes. 

Back to Walmart, I got some soda for me, the pants, "Mr Plumber", empty spice jars, and some deodorant powder for the litter box (yes, I clean it daily), protein bars and gel, and some Dr Pepper.  I bought a small bag of Twix Bites.  They were very good. 

Halfway through the bag, I read the label.  It had the standard "You're going to die if you have a peanut allergy".  They have this legal crap "A peanut may have come within 5 miles of the plant during our manufacturing process.  IF YOU HAVE A PEANUT ALLERGY AVOID THIS PRODUCT!" and I've already eaten some. 

If I'm depressed, I go ahead and finish it.  [snort]  I understand some people have an extreme allergy and need the warning.  My only experience, I get severe tingling and itching when I handle peanut crackers, stocking, even with gloves.  I toss the gloves and wash my hands up to the elbows when I'm finished, the minute I finish. 

A couple peanuts sitting in my hand for about 30 seconds resulted in a severe flare of hives.  I wanted to claw-flay the skin off my arm!  Horrid!  Thank God Ron carries Benadryl. 

I don't think, for obvious reasons, I should ever eat any kind of peanut product.  However, I think I'd be OK if you ran some chocolate covered peanuts on the line the week before you ran the chocolate covered raisins.  But maybe I'm wrong.  [shrug]  If I see a warning on the label (and I need to habituate reading the label before purchase), I won't buy or eat it... but I'm feeling very confined. 

When peanuts were "just" a migraine trigger I had a lot more liberty.  But I sure don't want a severe hive flare,  or a trip to ICU.   Ugh. 

At least my "manifestation" was something easily handled with a couple of benadryl, and an 88 cent tube of hydrocortisone cream. 

Ha!  I just realized this will help with the weight loss. 

A driver pulled up, rolled down the window, not for us.  A couple minutes later our driver came. 

He got out of his vehicle, chatting with the other driver (who was a woman, and "cute").  "She won't take us!" I whined  "She said we had an odor!"   They both laughed pretty hard because some of the clients smell terrible. 

We had a good ride home, I got everything in the house.  My hair smelled, greasy, sweaty, and disgusting.  I took a bath with a couple drops of dish soap even before I put the stuff away.  Then I took a shower. 

Now I feel human. 

Friday, May 15, 2015

$3 hooker

Still depressed.  I spent the first half hour of my day hitting the snooze button and apologizing to God.  I did do my God Time before I got online. 

I got up, showered, and dressed.  Ron woke up, very groggy.  "I don't want to go". 

I didn't bother to tell him I'd already had my caffeinated soda, so I wasn't going back to sleep.  I just told him we had to do the inventory. 

We had a pretty good ride to Walmart, we went around ferrying other people for a while, then finally to Walmart.  He had, however, gone crazy spraying "Black Ice" air freshener all over the cab.  Have you seen those car freshener trees?  The black one?  That fragrance. 

It was so overpowering it got on my clothes, I had to undress and launder them when I got home.  I don't fault the driver, though. 

He was pretty clear that some of his clients, especially the slower ones in diapers, are not cared for properly.  They reek of old feces, urine, body odor, and "Something else - rank - I can't describe".  I would rather smell Black Ice, and boy did I smell it.  

"I smell like a $3 hooker" I griped, after he dropped us at Walmart. 

"No you don't" Ron replied gently, sniffing my hair.  "You smell like a $2 one!"  I laughed so hard I brayed, then set him up in the kiddie cart. 

We got our supplies, some drinks for work.  We didn't want to buy them, take them home, and then go to work.  We wanted to just take it straight.  We did that, we even had a straight ride. 

All our drivers were great, today. 

We got into work, just a short trip.  I did the inventory, stocked some candy, helped Ron (always).  The other vendor wrinkled his nose when I walked in our small stockroom (about 200 square feet, shared).   Poor man. 

We did everything we had planned, then came home. 

I can't talk about something, but it involved lunch.  Yay for a ready made lunch, something I can take my pills with and not get sick.  Harder than you'd think. 

The minute I got home I stripped and washed my clothes.  Whew.  The pants were particularly bad. 

I was so glad I had subjugated this morning's headache before I rode in his cab for an hour. 

I took a nap for a while.  Ron went to the liquor store and made some noise, but I didn't have a nightmare, either. 

He got brandy, this time.  Vodka being the victimizer, and not all alcohol.  [sigh]  "I don't want you to make another video" he told me earnestly "So I'm going to be very careful!"  I plan to, if needed, make an audio recording.  He can't see it anyway.  I put "Voice Recorder" in my shortcuts list on my phone, the minute he told me he was drinking the hard stuff again.  I didn't tell him. 

"Hope for the best, expect the worst". 

It's interesting.  When I was unmedicated, just after my diagnosis, I remember feeling embarrassed the cats had to see me like that.  I didn't want them to ever suffer discomfort or unease on account of my behavior.  That's one reason I never drink. 

That, the huge risk of addiction, and the tremendous vulnerability when a woman is drunk.  Someone Ron knew proudly related a tale of gang raping a passed out, drunken, woman.  I was horrified, even more so because, years later, he still saw it as an acceptable thing to do. 

Anyway, I don't want to embarrass myself in front of the cats.  I value their opinion. 

Yes, I took my antipsychotic today.  No, they aren't telling me to commit crimes.  I just want to be the best human I can be, for them, because they deserve all that and so much more. 

I found Biscuit in my bed (most of my house has pretty poor lighting, due to the whole Ron-blind thing and my innate cheapness). 

Look at that sweet, white, tummy.  He let me rub it for a while, too, as he purred and gazed at me with adoring green eyes. 

Such a sweet boy.  It amazes me that anyone could throw him out like trash, much less kick him in the head! 

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Biscuit's a puker

I woke up depressed.  I did my God Time later and did get the shower. 

Last night, as I lay awake in bed, I found myself wondering, "Why does my mood always improve right before I go to bed?"  Maybe it's because I can "turn off" for a while. 

I don't think it's medication related, because I take my hard stuff around lunch (antidepressant for breakfast; 5 (!) mood stabilizers and an antipsychotic for lunch), it's got plenty of time to "work". 

Anyway, I was feeling pretty oppressed.  Someone once told me all that is entirely spiritual.  Others say it's just the misfirings of a diseased brain, or a difficult life.  I'm inclined to see it as a combination. 

So, we went to Walmart.  I got a few things, made my deposit  Of course the pharmacy called with some of my medication AFTER we went home. 

Ron actually paid attention to me.  I had a great time looking at spices and discussing MSG.  We agreed we prefer to shop early.  Yes, the deli opens later but the tradeoff - more stress and crowding - just isn't worth it.  Not to me, or Ron either apparently. 

We checked out, and then remembered the fruit.  Ron has been eating a lot of fruit lately, and it seems to be helping his leg ulcer.  Ugh.  I hate those things. 

Anyway, he wanted more apples.  I was delighted to find some Jonagold, my very favorite apple ever.  He bought them.  Another shopper giggled at me as I squealed with joy.  I got Ron a banana (1), and a couple large Goldens.  I think my second favorite apple'd be a Granny Smith.  I like some tart in my apple.  I used to make fruit salads with cut up Jonagold and Granny Smith apples.  Yum. 

I didn't feel up to that today, but I can cut up a Jonagold and eat it before I go to bed. 

We went home. We had a nice ride with a rather harried driver.  I had the feeling the other client had been "riding" her - giving her a hard time. 

On the way to Walmart, the other client made it obvious she was making comments about us to the driver.  I was a little disgusted.  If you want to gossip about me, do it behind my back or to my face.  Don't half-hide it and make it obvious you're talking trash, when I can't even hear you.  I would say this to HER face. 

Anyway, we got home, I put everything away, and took my nap.  I had horrible nightmares about rape, Ron's brother (not him, raping me), disaster, etc. 

I have been having a lot of dreams in which I'm about to leave on a trip.  I'm packing my bags, moving out, getting to the airport.  I have had the dreams nearly every night for the last little while.  I believe, if it's "from above", the dreams relate to the Rapture.  I believe Jesus is coming back for me, and other born-agains.  It will be sudden.  It will be unexpected, and it will be explained.  In fact, after it happens you probably won't even read this due to bots scrubbing all Rapture references - or simply and flatly deleting my blog altogether. 

Oddly enough, after having written all that, I still see myself as an optimist. 

I think God allows nightmares when I'm depressed, knowing I would spend all my time in bed, otherwise. 

I got up.  I did my God Time.  I got online for a while. 

Ron got drunk and sang along with "Margaritaville".  Ugh. 

I decided, since I had some energy, from being pissed (!), I would finally attack the bed.  I had some storage boxes I wanted to put under the bed.  I needed to change the sheet, as Biscuit vomited on my fitted sheet in the middle of the night.  Poor little Biscuit, he is the sweetest cat, with the most wonderful purr, but he's a puker. 

I have been so depressed I slept on a sheet with cat puke, for more than one night.  Pretty awful, pretty desperate.  I just didn't have the motivation to change it.  Bubba was my previous puker, and I had him for over 10 years. 

I decided I did not want to be that depressed today (to a small extent, I can battle with sheer will).  I stripped the bed, moved all the pillows (I like a lot!), and attempted to flip the mattress against the wall. 

I use a foam mattress, 4 inches thick, from Ikea.  It is 9 years old and very comfortable.  Gravy, however, had other ideas.  He decided to climb all over as the mattress as I attempted to flip it, making the whole job very difficult. 

The bedframe exposed (I have a Sleep Master from Amazon), I prepared to fit my dust ruffle.  However, the cats were enthralled with their new jungle gym, walking all over the supports.  It took me a while to chase them off. 

That done, they went under the edge of the ruffle and played get the feet, mine, and their siblings'.  Yike.  I finally got it all done and left, watching TV for a while. 

I checked the mail, my book arrived.  I read a little and got back online. 

And that's been my day. 

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

I should move to Acres Homes

Last night, as I was going to bed, I found "my" cat (the large brown and orange tabby) lying in the hallway.  I gently scolded her, bent my knees (!), picked her up, and took her to bed, gently placing her in her spot. 

"You can do whatever you'd like" I told her "But I'd love to sleep with you tonight.  I sleep so much better, and I miss you when you're gone."  She purred, accepted some petting, and decided to stay, all night.  Wonderful. 

As usual, I woke up exhausted.  I was also moderately depressed.  I was pretty groggy, too, from my medication. 

Ron spent most of the morning shouting at me, ordering me around, and name calling.  At one point I said "You just called me 'stupid' and 'spineless'. you're yelling at me, and you wonder why I'm distant?"  I showed some annoyance but I didn't sink to his level. 

He has a couple of issues:
1.  He thinks, if I don't perform to his expectations, he has "a right" to unleash whatever verbal abuse he feels appropriate.  Any name calling, shouting, derision, etc., is not only appropriate but expected.  However, I never return the favor.  There is no reasoning with him.  He is absolutely convinced this is OK.  God will have to work this issue out.  In the meantime, I put up walls, and wonder if he even notices. 

2.  He has no understanding, or desire to learn of, my side effect profile.  He accuses me of "faking" and using my illness to manipulate him into "letting me get away with stuff".  I try to explain; he won't hear it.  Today I suggested, very careful to maintain a neutral tone of voice, that he call my pharmacist and ask her what he could expect, performance wise, from my medication.  He flatly rejected the idea.  Of course he won't, because she'll tell him he's lucky to have me talking and walking, period. 

3.  He has no desire to learn about my illness; to understand what's driving me, what I battle, etc.  The only thing I ever heard from him, honestly, and this was many years ago "If you're really that bad I need you to leave".  It's hurtful.  I have done everything I could to learn about his problems, so I could understand, offer support, and adjust my expectations if needed.   He barely understands a severe depression probably means I don't want to go out to dinner. 

I cannot expect Ron to be the same spouse I try to be; simple as that.  However, I do keep my commitments.  He may be ugly: I won't.  He can be bitter, hateful, spiteful, harangue me for hours a day, mocking my faith and deriding God - that doesn't mean I have to do it here.  Done. 

So, other than that, work went well.  I got everything stocked on my end and helped Ron with his.  We counted the money, went to the bank, and I got paid early. 

Ron gave me some extra money.  I felt like he was trying to buy me off for his bad behavior.  I nearly threw the money back in his face, but decided, since he was presenting it as a "love offering", I would receive it as such.  I don't want to be ugly, I've had enough ugly in my life. 

We went home.  Police everywhere; someone got carjacked.  I'm not safe in my zip code.  I should move to Acres Homes and live amongst my recipients - I always feel safe there. 

I took a short nap (I'm not kidding about that fatigue).  I woke up with Biscuit! lying on my foot.  That's how I say his name: BISCUIT!  He's a good boy.  I hated to get up, but we had to go to the mall.

I helped Ron figure out his new digital recorder.  He wanted the more advanced (complicated!) model but they made it pretty simple regardless.  

I read a book on body language.  The book stated to never, ever, look over the top of your glasses at someone, it is demeaning.  I don't want to do that, and my glasses have gotten a little loose on my face, sliding down a lot.  I decided I might as well get that done at the Sears, buy some vitamins (done), and Ron could get the chicken takeout he likes.

He was very nice about waiting.

He got angry at God, expecting a lousy pickup, and prayed aloud for a good ride.  Right then the ride showed up, it was a very nice man who has had us before.  We got home pretty quick.

I did my God Time (yup, that depressed this morning) ate, took my pills, and turned on the computer.  

I keep wanting to change the litter box but cats keep coming along and defecating.  I'd better get it now before someone else shows up! 

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Pessimism has served me well

I'd like to say I don't require a lot of attention, but I'm starting to question that assumption. 

Ron did apologize for "getting weird" last night - pretty much the minute I woke up.  I was pretty depressed (chemical, not him), so I just did my God Time. 

We went to Walmart and I got some spices.  I would like to create some simple rice-n-bean dishes, with lentils, things that are nourishing and easy to prepare. 

I found myself getting very frustrated.  I had gone to all the trouble of getting a special cart so he could accompany me, and he was on the phone with the bank!  I wanted to ask him if it couldn't wait until he was by himself, and not with his wife.  This is why I think I might be a little more intensive than I previously thought. 

I mean, God love him, nearly every time we are spending quality time together, he takes out the phone, checks all the bills, checks the bank balance (I am glad he does this, just not when we're together).   I know "providing" is part of his love language.  He wants to make sure I have "what I need" but what I really want is attention! 

Don't I sound bratty?   [Sigh]  I'm not sure how to address that because he often says he's afraid of forgetting something.  God knows I can understand that. 

We also had an interesting discussion last night about hearing aids.  He asked me if I'd like him to get fitted. 

No, I concluded.  First, I'd have to clean it, and let me tell you, Ron's a waxer.  It is pretty disgusting to clean ear wax out of a hearing aid, and with Ron I had to do it every day. 

Secondly, I am accustomed to speaking loudly when we talk.  Ron was always clamping his hand over his ear, the hearing aid squealing as he begged me to lower my voice.  But then when he wasn't wearing it I had to shout at him. 

I said, I assume you want me to be 100% honest.  Yes, he replied.  It would be a lot easier for me if you didn't get a hearing aid.  You can't use it at work, the televisions and the machine compressors would drive you nuts (not to mention he is in tight spaces that cause hearing aid feedback).  He agreed..  I'm used to shouting at you.  It is hard to remember.  OK, he said.  Lastly, I said, you know this is coming, I really don't want to clean it! 

OK, he responded.  He was just worried I was desiring this, and he wasn't doing it.  No worries on that account, I told him. 

Ron has been apologizing a lot lately for being so "infirm".  I told him, quite honestly, I expected it.  I always look at the worst case.  Ron is 20 years older than me, he has a family history of stroke and arthritis.  He has both.  He had a personal history of back trouble, when we met.  I figured he would become debilitated, he is 20 years older than me. 

The accident, at the end of things, was not a big surprise.  I have had more trouble with his periodic setbacks than I did the original disability.  So I am training myself to expect setbacks.  Yes, he's getting around the house on a walker, now, that doesn't mean he will next week or even tomorrow. 

Pessimism has served me well.  I would rather not deal with the expected Bad Thing than not anticipate it. 

Monday, May 11, 2015


Ron is furious right now, belligerent and name-calling. 

Ron and I have a friend.  He calls now and then when he's manic.  He is clearly bipolar.  We have discussed it with him, explained he doesn't "have to drink it away", explained medication can give one a great quality of life, etc. 

He has said he doesn't believe I am ill, I have, in turn, explained it is only BECAUSE I am taking my medication.  I encourage him to seek help, and if prescribed medication, to take it as directed. 

Anyway, he called tonight.  Ron said, in passing he "wanted to send him the TA book".  I refused to help. 

The whole premise of TA - "transactional analysis" - a cult-like popular movement in the 70's, was that one could control one's brain with will alone, bad or inconsistent parenting was responsible for all societal ills, etc. 

My favorite part, one that never made sense to me, even as a dumb, eager-to-please (Ron), 18 year old kid "Schizophrenia is caused by an inconsistent Mommy", blaming alcoholic mothers.  Let's examine that for a moment.  We all know, now, the illness is caused by messed up neurotransmitters in the brain.  One can have terrible parenting and grow into a wonderful person; or one can have excellent parenting and develop severe mental illness.  The only thing you can say is that mental illness often runs in families. 

Why would anyone credit a book, promoting "Bad Mommy makes schizos", as a landmark bible on mental health?  It's not logical.  Ron was obsessed with the book, using slangy terms from it and distorted logic to manipulate me; forcing me to read it again and again whenever I'd object to his ongoing mind control and verbal abuse. 

As a result, I clearly hate the book.  I hate it because Ron used it to manipulate me; to demean me and make me feel inferior, and to harangue me about my "failures".  I've talked a little about that, some, small, failures were acceptable, but others were worthy of lengthy sessions of verbal abuse and "punishments" (cancelling plans, etc) because "You hooked my parent". 

I also hate it because it has a completely unrealistic view of mental health, as I've already illustrated.  Why would I throw that to a drowning man?  "It'll just make him feel worse" I told Ron "It won't solve anything and just make him feel like a failure".  He got very angry, and insisted I "Had to help him". 

"If I'm going to help him" I told Ron "I would get him The Bipolar Survival Guide" - and I believe I will.  I found it tremendously helpful after my diagnosis.  I also told him I would not, under any circumstance, help him "find the book and mail it".  "You can find someone else to do it". 

He could do so easily at a used bookstore, and pay to have them ship it, if he wanted.  But he wants to be a victim.  

He pouted that he couldn't, attacked me verbally for a while, accused me of faking my illness, and derided "the great expert".  "My doctor thinks so" I would have replied, but that would have fed him.  I know the truth about who I am.  I am a lot stronger than I "need" to be, in no small part due to his ongoing verbal abuse. 

I just get tired of having to set up my defenses. 

Old Faithful

I don't complain, but I'll state facts:
I slept horribly last night (I did have Torbie, though, my sweet old lady cat).
I woke up with a headache (but the Excedrin did a pretty good job throughout the day, and gave me the "energy" to make of up for the lack of sleep). 
Work was hectic (but over by 10 AM). 

We had a soda delivery.  When Ron called it in, I suggested he ask our sales rep for Coy.  Coy's a great guy, very professional, great attitude.  The kind of person I'd "steal" for my business, if I needed one. 

I didn't need to do much for snacks, and I praised God for that.  I helped Ron, talked to the other vendor, and had both deliveries arrive within 10 minutes. 

I was happy it was my favorite sandwich guy, and I had a meatball sub for Coy.  He loves them, and I always pack a lunch.  It is my hope people would look forward to coming to us; anticipating respect, appreciation, and a good meal.  I truly pray I do that. 

So, I got back and made up the lunch.  Ron didn't listen, I told him to do a 10 AM pickup.  I had to scramble because he set if for 9, instead.  I hate that. 

I would so much rather have more time, and less stress at work, BUT we got it all done and out in time for our ride.  We had a good ride home. 

I ate, took my meds, and a nap.  A very long nap.  Between yesterday's migraine, today's headache, all the painkillers running in my system, sleep deprivation...

I was happy to find both Biscuit and Torbie with me, at one point.  Torbie is "Old Faithful" though, sleeping by my head.  I love that.  I don't care what she does the rest of the time, but I love it when she sleeps with me. 

I woke up, finished my God Time, and helped Ron get a new digital recorder.  His old one died. 

I'm also working on a few things for the disaster kit, putting up some lentils and spices.  I want to master some lentil recipes because they're cheap, filling, high in protein, and cook fast.  I like them, too, I just need to figure out how to spice them so I adore them. 

Even more important, so Ron adores them, too. 

Sunday, May 10, 2015

And I've got a migraine

I woke up at 1 AM with a horrible migraine.  I managed to corner it with over the counter headache pills and very cold caffeinated sodas. 

It looked like the neighbors were having a party, until I saw the van from the Medical Examiner.  Apparently someone died down the street.  The boy who lives there once tore boards off my fence when he was playing with #2, encouraging him to rip a big hole in the fence between our yards, so they could go exploring.  Apparently splitting hairs, "Don't go in the yard" only applies to the gate?  Huh.  Needless to say it stopped when I informed the mother, and I didn't see the boy again.  

We had a trip to Walmart.  I'm having an ant issue (pretty bad this morning), and needed some bait.  I barely made it, but we went. 

I was really happy we got home before they started handing out the sausage samples at the front entrance.  I think the smell of sausage would have had me vomiting. 

As it is, I was getting shaky and sweaty, both good cues I was heading into the "retched" portion of the program!  I took some Phenergan (anti nausea drug and the only thing I take for migraines), and curled up in bed for a while. 

I woke up around 4, feeling somewhat more human.  I sorted though my other Walmart purchases, and put more soda in the fridge. 

I called Mom and Dad, right about the time Ron came out of his room, pretty drunk.  He kept doing commentary during my phone call, "suggestions" for topics of conversation, etc.   Had I been been better dressed, I would have gone outside to avoid him altogether.  As it was, it was very uncomfortable.  I did manage to convey "I am OK how are things on your end?" and same with Dad. 

After I hung up, I told him not to do that again, it "made Dad uncomfortable".  He basically told me to [censored], then began ranting about gallon ziplocks. 

After we do the monthly reports, we generally put them in a gallon ziplock bag.  However, if we're out, or he lost them, I can fold them into a quart. 

When we did the (monthly accounting) report, Ron lost the bags (we had just bought a new box).  I didn't say anything other than I can make it work with the quart.  He is obsessed with gallon ziplocks now, ordering me to "find them" (they're in HIS room, and he wouldn't let me search anyway), lecturing me for losing them, etc - this all the alcohol. 

Ron used to be really anal about stuff like that - lectures, etc., if he felt someone had made a "sub-level" mistake.  Certain mistakes were fine and acceptable, but a "sub level" (say, losing the water bill, locking yourself out, or leaving your purse under a table at a restaurant) mistake not only deserved, but invited wrath, lectures, condemnation, and punishment.  Unfortunately, alcohol brings this back, and for some reason he is convinced I lost them.

I could give him some of my ziplocks, claiming I "found" his, but that will just feed the bad behavior.  So, I refuse. 

All this, and I've got a migraine.  I just wish Ron could see he is ugly when he drinks.  I don't want to be around him.  I wish I could put him somewhere where he wouldn't bother me.  He was just upset at his cat because she wouldn't eat "more" treats.  He gave her some, which she ate.  He tried to give her more and she refused.  He kept begging her to eat and then scolding her. 

She's not hungry.  And he wonders why she's been avoiding him?  Ugh. 

He can't receive any correction when he's drinking, and from what I read I shouldn't even try. 

Have I mentioned just how much I hate alcohol?   I know I'm trying not to complain, but let's just say old ethanol has NEVER done me any favors. 

Saturday, May 9, 2015

"Bad Neighborhood" Handout

 Our drop off driver had just warned us, grimly, "This is a bad neighborhood" in a very cautious tone.  "The neighborhood has a bad reputation" I told Ron "But that doesn't mean it has bad people."

Case in point, the carload of young gangbangers who pulled up shortly after I got to the corner and set up (I brought approximately 100 Bibles, handed out 75 in about an hour - whole Bibles, except for the kiddie ones, and I only had 10 of them). 

Mom and Dad are going to read this... let's just say the light changed unexpectedly and a car flew by at a high rate of speed while I was still in the middle lane.  I jumped, and looked over my shoulder for more before I headed back to the safety of "my" median.  4 young men in the car, they each wanted a Bible, and I had NICE ones, beautiful fake leather covers, gilded pages, lots of helps, Bibles I have dreamed of handing out, especially there. 

Anyway, I was startled.  "Don't worry" the young man smiled at me, showing a couple of gold teeth "You're doing God's work.  He's going to protect you!"  I grinned and thanked him, told the whole group I'd be praying daily (that is, like, sacred to me), and they went on their way.   He was right.  I had another scare later but am here typing away. 

I did 3 carloads of gangbangers.  I did some walk bys.  "If they're rubbernecking" I told Ron "They'll take a Bible".  Especially if I give them a big grin and wave them over as if I've been expecting them.  On the way home, I gave one to a lady at the bus stop who almost cried. 

One guy parked the car (he was driving the other way and saw Ron's sign, which he faces toward the northbound traffic, while I handle the southbound traffic), crossed two streets, and came over to get two Bibles, one for his Mom.  I asked if he had kids, and gave him 4 kiddie Bibles too. 

The Kid Bibles were, as expected, a huge hit.  They went pretty fast. 

One of my favorite interactions involved an older Spanish grandmother.  She stopped, and I gave her a Spanish Bible.  She exclaimed, and I gave her two more, one for each child accompanying her.  She had a discussion with the oldest, in Spanish, who returned the Spanish and requested an English instead.  I was happy to oblige. 

I had one Spanish fellow at the T end of the intersection.  I waved him over and he gestured he'd come when he could.  He did, and when I realized he was Spanish I handed him some New Testaments, which he loved.

I took several whole Spanish, and handed nearly all of them out.  People are always delighted to get a Bible in their own language.  

One lady began shrieking out a car window when she saw the sign.  They pulled up.  She does evangelism in the neighborhood.  She wanted 2 adult, women's Bibles.  (The KJV were pink so I handed them out to the women, the NIV were turquoise so I handed them to the men - and they went extremely fast).  She also wanted 5 more, if possible.  Of course.  As I was handing them over and querying her about kiddie stuff, we heard a police siren. 

The policeman decided to pull up behind this lady, this evangelist, getting Bibles from another evangelist (me).  Really, you think he'd have been HAPPY people were getting Bibles in that area.  No.  He wanted her to "Move along" because the light had changed. 


"He's not a friend of Jesus" Ron said sadly.  She came back, though, and I gave her what I had left of the kiddie stuff, some World Missionary Press booklets, and information on obtaining lots of free booklets from World Missionary Press. 

"Can I hug you?"  She asked, her eyes alight.  "Of course".  We had a good hug and she left. 

I still can't believe the policeman.  Ron and I did agree we need to do this again, another Saturday around dinnertime. 

It's a good thing he hadn't seen me earlier, when God had the whole intersection at a standstill, literally EVERY car at the light wanted multiple Bibles.  I was running!  It took me minutes to get my breath back.  It was a heck of a way to start the Handout, and complete validation I had come to exactly the right place. 

Within an hour I was completely wiped out.  I had one Bible left, which I gave to the lady at the bus stop. 

We took the bus home rather than wait an hour.  We believe in using common sense. 

Happily, I have plenty more at home.  I definitely want to go again. 

I had to go today, even after a long day at work, due to severe weather all next week.  I was exhausted, it was one of those "God this all has to happen in Your strength" and of course He supplied it. 

I do wish I could get a portapotty on the median, though.  LOL  It's a hard line, staying hydrated in a neighborhood with no public bathrooms! 

2 days in one, again

Yesterday was pretty uneventful.  We went to the warehouse, got our supplies, went to work and stocked.  Jack will be out of town next wee...