Friday, July 31, 2015


I had a nice little mania going for a couple days, but I crashed today into "mixed".  link  It's pretty awful; I was nearly entirely depressed, yet outgoing and chatty.  Everyone thought I was "fine". 

Some would blame it on Ron.  He's been drinking a lot of (to me, very expensive) liquor every night, falling down drunk.  He left his phone in the middle of the floor one night, and last night I found it in the sink.

Ron loves his phone.  Last night I just turned it off and kept it until I heard him awake and sober, later.

Right now I'm angry, but it's just pathetic too.  I don't see how he can degrade himself like this.  He does these nonverbal grunts and gurgles at me, falls down, eats food, and gets angry the next day when it's "gone".

He's yelling at me now because I asked him (very politely) to turn the music down.  He got verbally abusive and began cursing me.  Why?  Because I said "I don't feel well, can you please turn down the music?"  I also mentioned "I don't want the neighbors getting bad habits".  

Now Ron's saying I'm a [censored] because I am mentally ill, etc.  "What's your mood?" - nasty, accusing tone. 

"Very tired"  I replied.  I mean it. 

Ron's playing "My whole day's all ruined because of you" and pouring more, I don't know what the hell it is - whiskey?  "Hopefully I won't have a blackout tonight".

At least he stopped calling them "Fugue states" - as though that made the blackout classy.

Anyway, I slept OK.  I have been having some back pain in my lower, right, back, at the bottom couple ribs.  I have no idea why. 

The other vendors had stashed our water delivery on a top shelf, two weeks in a row.  I had to reach up on tippytoe, grab the water, pull it forward off the rack, and lower it without dropping it - times 20 cases over the last couple weeks. 

The State finally took the dead microwaves away, so I have enough room on my lower rack - about 2.5 feet above floor level (half a meter?).  Did I just abuse my lat?

I should remind you, space is at a premium.  I have about 34 square feet of floor space, including two floor-to-ceiling racks.

Is my mattress going out on me?  I sleep fine, and I never wake up with back pain (just the usual endless full bladder runs to the toilet) at night.  It's a little stiff in the morning. 

Can I work?  Yes.  Do I want to see a doctor?  Not particularly. 

I don't have any sharp, stabby, pain like a kidney stone, it's more a dull ache.  My urine is fine.  I think it's just bad body mechanics at my computer chair (I just caught myself slumping). 

I made sure to clear the low shelf for the water deliveries - that's fixed.  My current in-use microwaves all came from Walmart, so I can just throw them away when they die (but they're still going!). 

It's aggravating.  What's worse is talking to Ron. 

1.  I am "sickly" and defective, like his mother.  He makes sure to call me by his mother's name a few times, as an insult.  Let's see, she worked 50 years, raised 4 kids, and helped raise her grandkids.  Ron's always said she was an impeccable housekeeper and excellent cook, too.  Sounds like a pretty strong woman to me. 

2.  It's all God's fault.  He's a -this- and a -that- and everything that goes bad in the world is all God's fault (including Ron's blackouts, because "He won't come back faster").  He goes on about this endlessly.  "Normal" people can only take about 30 seconds before trying to shut him up.  I'm expected to consume an endless diet, without complaining.   I try to remind Ron, you will answer for every word, one day. 

3.  If I complain about Ron's constant negativity and hostility towards God, I am "trying to tell him what to feel" and then I REALLY hear it. 

4.  He goes back to sickly for a while. 

5.  Then it's Oh, shit, how will I run the business.  I get a massive guilt trip if I can't work that day, which has only happened a few times (generally severe vomiting).   If I can work I still get the lecture because I might not have been able to

I am not into power issues; but in many ways I have the power in the relationship.  One time Ron was being a creep to me and saying I didn't "do anything".  He was profoundly, verbally abusive for long periods of time every day, at a time I was severely depressed.  I didn't do his laundry for about 10 days.  When he yelled at me about the lack of clean clothes, I said "Oh, I don't do anything, remember?" and "made" him wear dirty clothes to work.  I resumed laundry duties after he apologized. 

Yes, it was petty and small, but I still believe it was necessary.  He's never said that again. 

Ugh.  I just want a quiet, drama-free life.  I want to feel my husband supports me.  I'll even settle for "My husband mostly supports me."  Or "My husband usually supports me."  - because I am a flawed human just like everyone else. 

Instead, I feel as though he doesn't support me.  At all. 

Well, I chose him.  I have to live with that; and I will. 

I remind myself every marriage has it's problems and you very seldom see those issues manifest.  I guess I'm an oddity. 

I just had a boggling thought: if Ron had a caregiver, they would quit him.  He gets very upset when things don't go his way. 

Anyway, last night he got pretty blotto, left his phone in the sink.  I didn't find that until later, when the sink started yelling at me about a low battery. 

I was like, I swear I took my Haldol! #$@!   Why am I hallucinating?  Then I looked and found it.  [laugh] 

He was pretty tragic.  He has a very bad habit of drinking in the kitchen, sitting on his mobility device, having one after the other after the other.  I have asked him, suggested very calmly "Perhaps you could have the drink and go back to your room.  It doesn't seem to end well when you have one after the other, in the kitchen." 

I have also said, I'm worried about you.  One day you're going to fall and hurt yourself, if you break your arm I'm going to have to call 911.  Then you'll end up in The System.  You think I'm bad - wait until the social workers get ahold of you! 

He says it won't happen. 

Last night he sat on the walker, covered in food, slumping off to the side.  I took him to the Man Cave and encouraged him to get into bed.  He did. 

I didn't want him to fall.  I don't want bad things for him.  I want him to find some kind of peace. 

I also answer to God.   I wish Ron could see God the way I do. 

Today, while he was sober, moods came up.  I mentioned I feel he is often depressed, and I would love it if he consulted with a prescribing doctor like mine. 

"Anyone in my shoes would feel this way" he said.  "I'm not interested". 

So much for that. 

This morning, we went out for breakfast.  Harris County Smokehouse. 

I have heard lovely things about their breakfast. 

I don't eat eggs, since I almost died from a bad scrambled egg at IHOP in 2004.  They just make me gag. 

I got a waffle with a side of bacon, delicious.  When they brought the bacon Ron made coveting noises. 

"You can share!" the waiter cheerfully suggested. 

I picked up a piece of bacon.  "I don't love him that much." 

I did save a little for the cats, Biscuit and Gravy loved it. 

Someone loves me.  :p 

Thursday, July 30, 2015

Two Days

"Thank God" I told Ron.  "I think I'm getting manic." 

It's a nice slow one. 

Yesterday: got up, shower, went to the bank.  Went to the warehouse, bought a lot of treats. 

A very long ride downtown.  Unload treats and take into Metro building.  Call around, ask for a Metrolift employee with a handcart.  We got a lot of blank, gaping, faces, and confusion.  Until they saw the treats.  Oh!  For Metrolift!  Yeah, that Metrolift.  :p 

I left Ron with the treats.  Since we were downtown he had a problem with "sharks" circling, angling for treats. 

I went and got his yearly pass.  Ron tends to be very rude to the woman so she was happy to see just me, taking my time, thanks for working so hard... and she got it on the first time.  She was so happy. 

I went out to see a couple Metrolift employees loading the treats.  The man kept rubbernecking at me.  I guess I don't meet his vision of Ron's wife. 

I may be fat, but I'm not ugly.  [shrug] 

They thanked us and rolled the cart off to the elevator.  Ron had been promising treats for a while. 

We had a while 'till our pickup.  I got some bus passes, got a snack, used the (surprisingly clean) public bathroom, and put $20 on my bus card.  That'll last me a good while. 

I am very happy they are improving the bus system.  It's going to be wonderful for me. 

Basically, my local route will go to the mall, which will connect to useful routes for shopping and work.  I have had to take 3 buses sometimes; now only 2.  It's even only one route to the bank. 

On the other end, my bus goes downtown and connects to pretty much every other route in the system.  I could actually get another job if I had to. 

So, good for me. 

I thanked the information clerk and she gaped at me "You're the only person to say that".  I smiled and walked away with my schedules. 

We had a very long ride home, over 2 and a half hours.  I was very happy to exit the vehicle. 

I actually had to beg him to stop so I could use a toilet.  Ugh.  I was about to burst. 

I did find out lithium and friends work with cheetos and a snickers bar.  Huh. 

I was exhausted.  I went straight to bed and slept until 5 AM. 

I woke up, used the toilet, and found Gravy eating a large frog.  I took away what was left. 

The thing was huge, a frog, not a toad.  It's been horribly dry.  I have no idea where he found a frog. 

I did my God Time, showered, and even had screen time before I left. 

We went to Walmart.  Ron had paid me so I had a little cash. 

I got a fannypack and some fishing hooks.  I want to learn how to fish. 

I found a few things they finally had in stock, and happily snatched them up.  I had to take my stuff to work, so I didn't get much. 

I found a really nice cashier and told her she was on my favorites list.  She liked that. 

We had a good ride to work and worked our butts off.  Snacks needed a lot of work; so did the soda machines.  Food machine was down, so I had to fix that, and then stock both food machines.  I also organized the stockroom for our bottled water delivery and Truck Day.  Busy! 

I did virtually everything; very happy about that. 

"I don't want to work tomorrow" Ron whined, echoing my thoughts.  I agreed. 

So, we don't. 

Tuesday, July 28, 2015


The depression was a little better today.  "I can't wait to get manic" I told Ron.  He nodded. 

A properly medicated, balanced, mania, of course. 

I actually had some fun today.  We went to Walmart very first thing, when it was nice and quiet.  We got some soda for work (our soda company rep gave us "permission"), and Ron had budgeted some personal shopping time. 

I got some new undies.  :p  I told Ron, it's funny, sturdy elastic is more important than colors.  After that, I want 100% cotton, and then cute colors and patterns. 

I'd rather wear a revolting print with a good elastic, if needed. 

I found some good ones in purple assortment, so that makes me happy. 

We had fun shopping.  I had him in the kiddie cart:
You can see the walker in the front right corner, my reusable bags in the cart.  My love language is quality time.  Link

In fact, I find it endlessly frustrating when I'm trying to spend time with Ron and he's on the phone "Be quiet, I'm on the phone" attitude.  Drives me nuts!  PUT IT AWAY!  Talk to your wife!  Give her some attention so another man won't! 

I require care and feeding, just like the cats.  I just need different things. 

Ron has stopped playing "Mr Problem Solver" on the dating chatlines.  He used to set up an account, tell me your problems, and play counselor.  In the meantime I would be languishing, or talking to someone else online, waiting for him. 

If he is sober, I don't have a problem getting out of my computer chair and giving him attention.  I will usually play songs for him on YouTube, help him to research, and buy things if needed. 

Quality time is greater than pastime - even blogging.  :p  But he's snoring.  He had a little much today.  It's never a good day when I find his cell phone in the middle of the kitchen floor, apparently dead.  I'll let him figure that out. 

Ron did admit recently he was calling one line.  I was Not Happy. 

"I just can't believe" he says "That women want sex as much as men." 

I've been telling you that for over 23 years.  You can't understand? 

"I just can't believe it."  I have seriously suggested he get counseling, if this is such a big deal to him.  Playing around with supertramps out to wreck marriages is a bad way to validate women's sexuality. 

Besides, he's got me. 

"Why do they hide it?' 

Well, I tell him, they did in your generation but not mine.  And don't forget the woman has to have babies. 

So he got a bunch of books on childbirth and now he's totally traumatized.  I just hope he can sort this out without wrecking our marriage. 

I really thought he was over all that. 

He recently got a really sleazy book trilogy about a "somewhat reformed" prostitute.  He kept trying to tell me about it.  I kept telling him I wasn't interested. 

Now, get a biography of a born again prostitute who starts a ministry to same, I would read it in a couple of hours!  It's all in the context! 

But I am not interested in porno books with explicit descriptions of sex.  To my mind, a good writer can write a fantastic story without one sex scene. 

Look at "The Scarlet Letter".  They only reference the sex obliquely.  You know she's an adulteress because she had a child and her husband was missing during the time of conception.  I can think of many other books. 

Post Apocalypse fiction generally doesn't have a lot of explicit sex, maybe a guy comes up on a rapist and kills him, then moves on.  That sort of thing. 

Anyway, after Walmart we went to work. 

The Yoruba Nigerian cab drivers love that we can speak a little dialect.  They always ask us where we learned "Other drivers!".

Some want to start their own intensive schooling, and try to teach us as many phrases as possible before the destination.  I never would have figured I would learn Yoruba.  Never. 

Spanish, yeah.

So we got to work and took the sodas in.  Our machines didn't have a lot of business; they had just had a "meet the new manager" party with free snacks.

Good, less work.  I am depressed.

When I'm manic I'll stock everything.

I stocked and helped Ron, but we didn't need much.

We decided to go to paratransit headquarters tomorrow and get Ron's yearly pass.  That's going to be a very long day. 

We left work and came home.  We had another pickup. 

It was a Walmart pickup.  A very frail old lady and a caregiver.  The caregiver was bipolar, manic, and combative. 

She was verbally abusive. 
Threatened physical abuse
Refused to wear the seatbelt until she was told she would be removed from the vehicle. 
More verbal abuse.
The old lady was having a hard time getting in the back seat. 

If it had been just her, I would have been happy to offer her my (front passenger) seat.  However, I was scared of the woman in the back.  I didn't want to sit next to her if I could avoid it.  The old lady managed to get in by herself. 

The caregiver had a filthy, abusive, mouth.  "No one can tell me anything." she bragged (typical manic thinking).  She was everything I strive not to be. 

Ron poured on the charm and kept her calm.   Poor man's had some practice!  

We got home and I fled as fast as I could.  I did tell the driver we would call in a compliment because I didn't want that harridan trying to get him fired. 

The minute I got in the house, I took my medication. 

Ron called in the compliment "No, the driver was GREAT!  Please get this right!"  

I'm sorry I whined.  I am very sorry I whined about my side effects, Lord.  Please don't ever let me be that woman.  

I can only prevent that by taking my medication. 

I actually posted on Facebook:  "To my bipolar friends.  You know how you think you're fine off your meds?  You're not!" 

[shudder]  Very traumatic. 

This is me, off my meds.  Such a horrible thought.  [shudder] 

I took a nap.  Torbie abandoned me but my faithful Biscuit came to visit.  We had a good nap.  Torbie showed up later, very annoyed. 

Well, I'm available on a first come first served basis.  If I'm not good enough for you at 1 PM I'm not available at 2.

What a day.  

Monday, July 27, 2015

Sleep with a cat

It didn't seem like a hard day. 

I worked a short shift, only ran one errand, had straight trips for the most part (a nice bonus on a shared-ride service) and even got 2 naps, one of which involved two cats in the bed. 

It felt like an ultramarathon.  I woke up horribly depressed, barely got through my shower, so happy when I realized I didn't have to shave my legs. 

Everything was impossible and exhausting. 

We got to work and realized the new plant manager was about to have a meet and greet for the employees. 

We go through a lot of plant managers, one every year or so.  Of course God knows anyone can read this so that's all I'll say.

Other than, with "our" productivity numbers, I wasn't at all surprised the last guy got booted.  64 out of 67, consistently, for months, is not a good thing.

They put the numbers up in our area.

I was very happy to realize we'd be escaping before the show.  Imagine this: they had a huge cake on a table, right in Ron's travel path.

Imagine Ron coming along with a lapfull of sodas for a vending machine, knocking the cake on the ground, ready to meet the new plant manager?

Sorry about your cake!


We managed to evade all that.

I will stock tomorrow.  They were giving out cake and snacks, Ron did sodas, I did food, so things are fine until tomorrow.

We came home, I took first nap.  No cats.  We ran an errand and got cat food.

I took my medication, and my second nap.

Torbie and Biscuit joined me.  At the end, Gravy did too.  The air conditioner vent had something to do with it, but it was nice to think they wanted to hang out with me, too.

I love to sleep with a cat.  


Horribly depressed today.  I'm functional, NOT suicidal, just miserable.  I really pray you are having a better day:-)

Sunday, July 26, 2015


I renamed Torbie, Chewbie. 

She loves to munch on electrical cords.  Today I bought some bitters.  It's a spray you put on your stuff. 

Hopefully it will make her behave. 

It's none of your damned business

I get so tired. 

"OH, Heather, that happens to everyone." 





I forgot things I needed, at Walmart, because I neglected to put them on my list.  Understandable.  I gave $20 change to a customer who gave me $10.  Huh? 

I left a bag of groceries on the porch.  I forgot.  Until I went looking for my Mountain Dew.  Happily I had my cold items in the house already. 

Oh, and the milk, I found that on the counter, in front of Ron's microwave, a good half hour after I "put away all the cold stuff". 

When I paid at Walmart today, the cashier counted my money, and got angry.  "You did it again!  Gave me too much!" 

I explained I take some very toxic and harsh medication.  "Yeah, right... you're going to get me in trouble!" 

Yeah, that is my complete intent. 

I get very tired of explaining.  I get even more weary when they don't believe me.  I don't like walking around this medicated.  I don't like that it makes me "stupid".  I really don't like it when you won't accept that reality. 

It's none of your damned business, anyway, but I think people deserve an explanation.  I just wish they would accept it. 

People like them are a huge reason people like me go off our meds!  And NO ONE wants that. 

Ron doesn't understand why I so often wish I had an overt problem like he does.  People can't wait to help him. They smother him in empathy and understanding. 

And I get the attitude. 

The Cheating Blog

Ron recently read a book (fiction) about a woman who committed adultery. 

I won't tell you the name of the book, because, in his opinion, it wasn't well written.  It went into some length about how she felt inferior to others, her husband got sterilized without consulting her, felt unvalued and unappreciated by her husband, etc. 

She went on a girls night out, which, at the end of the story, had led to the cheating and pregnancy. 

Ron and I had a pretty lively discussion on where she "screwed up".  Where someone could screw up. 

  • Girls night out: I don't get the concept.  My aunt used to take me shopping when I fled Blackout Ron, and my safety was at risk.  Always, for some odd reason, in late summer/fall.  That's the only concept I've practiced.  

You know how very bad it would be for me to drink: not only would it interact with my medication, I am at huge risk for addiction.  I just avoid it completely and stick to diet soda.  If not careful, though, it could result in me getting roofied. 

So, girls night out - if you're married, or committed, stick with the girls.  In the book, they all split off and hooked up with guys. 

  • She let him buy her a drink.  
  • She confided in him. She went to his hotel and had a drink at the hotel bar.  
  • She gave him her phone number.  
  • She responded to his calls and texts.  
Now, to most, she hasn't done anything wrong, but we can see her going down the road to cheating.

I have never had a physical affair, but at 2 bad times in my marriage, I confided in other men, which led to expectations, and messy resolutions.

The book continued, she had lunches with him, more confidences, more calls and texts.  Then she invited him over when her husband was gone "To give him the tour".

So that's what they call it - she ended up cheating.  

I have some male friends.  In person, and online.  The in persons are nearly all married.  The singles are devout born-agains.  All of the singles have helped with the Bible Handouts in some fashion. 

Eric, for instance, and I met on a Christian message board.  He bought me some Bibles a few years ago, I sent him an update how I used them.  Last year we were discussing computers.  When he found out what I was using he offered me his "old" computer.  State of the art, a year ago.  I accepted. 

He showed up one night and made a network with my old computer, the new one, got it all going, and went away.  Ron and I took him to dinner.   We need to do that again. 

Note that - Ron and I.  I am a package deal, with Ron, when there is a single man around.  I just find that a lot easier. 

Justin and I met on the same board.  I gave him some advice, which he took.  He gave us rides to church for a while until Ron wrecked his back last year.  He's helped out with the Handouts, indirectly.  I have never seen Justin without Ron around.  That's the way I like it.  No confusion. 

Craig was married when I met him at church, but is now single.  He went on a Bible Handout, and has the remarkable distinction of being the only one to want a second.  He has a kind heart and loves Jesus, and things are very clear because Ron is always around, when Craig is.  

Do I yearn for these guys?  Want to have their babies?  No.  But I think it is a lot easier this way.

Ron occasionally calls old girlfriends, but I know it is not romantic.  Ron was more into the "booty call/hookup" type "relationship" before he met me.  The bonds he has with these woman are those of friendship. 

After reading this book, he swore he would never cheat, has never cheated during our marriage (which I believe).  I believe he is smart enough not to confide in another woman, to open up and be vulnerable, because that's how they get in. 

I can't see that happening to him, unless something catastrophic happened to me. 

Saturday, July 25, 2015

Happy customers.

Every summer, I consider getting "black girl" braids. 

Then I look at the expense and forget it. 

I did try to look up something I could do on my own. 

I have never been good at fashion or hairstyling.  I just blowdried my naturally full hair upside down, for the "big hair" look of the 80's and 90's.  I had very short, layered haircuts. 

As my hair grew, I went to a simple ponytail. 

I can't even do a french braid.  I lack the dexterity, especially these days. 

I looked around at hair styles for long, "white", hair.  They all involved complicated twists, buns, and braids. 

One hairstyle involved a french braid down each side of the head, joining at the back.  It got me thinking. 

What if I pulled my hair into two pigtails, secured them, and then joined the pigtails at the back?  I tried it this morning.  It wasn't difficult. 

My hair looked fuller and it was cooler.  I didn't have a long, hot, rope hanging down my back.  My scalp had some ventilation. 

My hair didn't drip with sweat as I unloaded the truck (more on that in a minute).   No one pointed fingers or laughed. 

I may have found my new summer hairstyle. 

So, the day.  I got up, exhausted and depressed.  I had a nasty headache and I pulled a muscle in my back.  I took an Excedrin and a hot shower, hoping to alleviate both. 

I did, somewhat.  I was at least able to buy the merchandise and get it to work. 

We went to the warehouse, I got all my inventory.  As much as I could fit in the pickup, at least.  God help me if I had a larger truck, and stockroom. 

We got to work and I got my carts.  Someone had tampered with Snack 1.  I later discovered a Fruit Roll-Up had hung up, resulting in severe shaking and vending machine abuse.  He's lucky he didn't knock it down on himself!  I fixed all of it. 

We left the candy in the truck cab, and had to call him back.  Ooops.  I made a joke about paying the "ransom" and gave him some money for coming back. 

He's our only guy at present.  We'd better kiss a little...

I stocked.  THAT took a while.  For once, they didn't wipe out my pastries.  I'd bought some Red Velvet cupcakes (I hate Red Velvet but I'm not the customer, they are).  They got some interest as I stocked. 

I like to provide some variety for the customer.  I would hate to be the same old candy bar...

Speaking of, I forgot to buy snickers.  I felt very foolish. 

Every vending machine has a glitch.  Snack 3 won't give a nickel back if it thinks the nickels are low.  Snack 1 used to go out of service every time someone hit it.  Currently the coins will not "tube" properly if I load it from the front. 

Snack 2.  Whenever I exit programming mode, it dispenses a few free items.  [snort]  That's a glitch I can live with.  I can simply restock the items. 

And I moved the Fruit Roll Ups so that won't happen again, either. 

I want happy customers. 

Big Show

Cup reviews.

Purple, cheap, cup

Works fine.  A little thin compared to the other but no leakage.

Two for one special  Both of them are good.

I put one in storage, and use the other.  I alternate between the two brands.  They both work fine.  No leakage.

I have a learning curve on insertion and removal.  I strongly suggest researching cup folds.

Link with photos

How has it been?  Well, overall, fine.

I haven't had a drop of leakage.  Both units are comfortable and fairly easy to install once I got it.

Removal remains a little tricky.  The cups like to climb.  So I have to squat on the toilet, bearing down, waiting for the thing to come in range and then pinch and grab.  It's only a little more awkward than removing a tampon, especially considering the times I've had a string break.  I still prefer to remove at home, when I am not rushed.

The cloth pads have provided mental security, but I haven't actually bled on them.  I'm still glad I have them, though.  I think they will be very useful as I've been spotting for a few days before the Big Show.  


My husband was run over by a careless driver. Over a decade ago.

By all appearances, the man "got away with it" while I was blamed for the accident (I let the poor blind man walk to work the way he always had, for 30 years). I was villified, while everyone saw this man as a victim.

As you can imagine, I had many issues, and many happy fantasies of beating him with a piece of metal pipe.  

I wasn't even happy when I found out he got born-again.

I knew my attitude didn't make God happy.

Matthew 5:44
New King James Version (NKJV)

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

So, back about 2009 I started praying for the man every day. I had to ask God to give me the will to pray, at first.. I was that messed up.

I had a lot of setbacks. It seemed like every time I was getting to a decent place, I'd see the guy again, walking around with everything working. Then I'd look at poor, pitiful, Ron, in his wheelchair.

Or Ron would have yet another devastating setback.

Imagine my horror last year when I found out the guy had bought an even bigger truck.

Every time he got near us, I went into Mama Bear mode. I have a couple of nicknames. Heather the Hatchet. Heather the Pit Bull - because I am VERY protective of my husband.

The way I saw it, he'd done enough damage.

But I asked God to work on me, prayed every day, wanted God to cleanse me, and sought to have a good attitude. God has been working.

Lately I kept thinking about that big pickup truck. We need a guy with a pickup. One of our truck guys is out of commission for who knows how long.

The other guy is reliable, but not exactly available. We had to wait all week to make our supply run.

Oh, I could use another driver.

Guess who comes looking for change today?

I gave it to him, very nice and polite. I honestly had good thoughts.

That's ALL God, working in me.

And I ended up recruiting him - if he'd like, to be our driver. He's going to think about it.

Again, that's all God.

If you see anything good in me it's just my willingness to BE used, by God.

Friday, July 24, 2015

Zip zip zoom

I woke up depressed, but I had slept pretty well.  Torbie has been very attentive to me, lately.  She's my foul weather cat, my best buddy when I'm depressed, disdaining me when I'm having an average or manic day. 

I didn't take a shower, just applied extra deodorant. 

The cable guys were coming. 

They arrived on time and went out back, doing something in the backyard for a good half hour.  God only knows.  I will say my computer seems to be running a lot faster now. 

They came in.  I showed them my electronics, and they said they'd leave the computers hardwired to the modem.  Good. 

They set up the modem and made sure to test the computers.  They did something to Eric's network (he's the one who gave me this desktop, last year) and now both computers can be used at the same time.  Interesting. 

I verified I could get online, with both, and sent them off with a few Bibles. 

I took a nap.  I was pretty moody because I had waited to take my antidepressant.  I was worried it would make me groggy and I wouldn't be able to set up the mobile devices. 

I got up after about an hour, took it, and set up the devices.  Blogger and Amazon work on my tablet.  Facebook probably does. 

I didn't check it. 

I was able to download a couple of free Kindle books, much to my satisfaction.  I was so sick of the old way, boot the old computer... that takes about half an hour.  I'm not kidding.  Then load the internet, load Amazon, USB cable, transfer to hard drive, (because I get a blue screen of death, if I try to plug in the actual Kindle when I'm online), etc.  You get the idea. 

Zip, zip, zoom.  I am very happy. 

I'm really happy the service call only cost Ron $35.  His love language is acts of service, he wants to do things for me. 

He did. 

And it won't cost us any more money per month. 

Crime Scene

This cycle has been very interesting. 

I got 2 menstrual cups, and I've been alternating them.  I clean them in the sink, with "female wash", unscented, sensitive formula.  I also clean them with unscented baby wipes.  Every day or so, I dunk them in boiling water.  We'll call that, "the whole routine". 

They have done the job, collecting a lot over the course of my cycle.  I probably bled 1/3 to one half cup (about 100 to 150 ml).  According to the internet, that's high normal but not uncommon for me. 

My medication makes me groggy and fumble-fingered.  That's not always a good combination with a brimming menstrual cup. 

Praise God I did not drop it in the toilet. 

In public. 

I have figured, the best method for me is bearing down and pinching the cup as it gets into range (I'm not shoving it to kingdom come, just enough to do the job).  I pinch the cup and yank it out. 

At present, removal generally results in the loss of half the contents, making the toilet bowl look like a crime scene.  It's spectacular and more than a little alarming. 

I never realized, just how much I bleed. 

I try to manage this at home, and have for the most part, just because I worried about losing the cup or spilling it on the floor.  If someone saw that at work they'd call me an ambulance. 

Sure enough, last night, I dropped it in the toilet.  I fumbled the cup as I removed it and dropped it into the toilet.  I had only urinated prior to removal. 

I watched my happy purple cup floating in the bloody toilet bowl, cursed under my breath, and briefly considered flushing. 

After all, the toilet is rated to flush a gallon of golf balls. 

I envisioned the probable drain line clog, and the expression on the plumber's face as he fished out my cup.  I gritted my teeth, reached in, and retrieved it. 

I then went through the whole cleaning routine.  I washed it in very hot water.  I got after it with two kinds of wipes.  I washed it in the delicate female wash. 

Then I boiled water in the microwave and flung the cup into the boiling water after I extracted it.  I let it cool, and then washed it again. 

Considering, that ought to do the job. 

New tech

Today I got WiFi.  More to follow.

Thursday, July 23, 2015

Truck guys

Pretty wiped out tonight. 

I always think I'll only write a paragraph. 

Last night, as I went to bed, I made tragic noises.  Ron became quite alarmed, until I explained the plan. 

Torbie likes an invitation to sleep with me.  If I act pitiful, she will come "save" me, but I have to put on the show. 

It's out little routine. 

I did it, and sure enough, she leapt on top of me about 5 minutes later (she doesn't come on command).  She got her petting, walked on my ribs (ouch), and purred.  She laid down near my waist. 

I made more tragedy, and then scratched the sheet near my head.  After some consideration, she chose to join me. 


I'd love to say I slept great.  I did fall asleep fast but I had a heart-pounding nightmare about something that could actually go wrong in my life. 

My pillow fell off the bed, leaving me with a rather flat one I use as a topper.  I found my sleep more comfortable, so I plan to maintain the arrangement. 

I got up, exhausted.  I did all my grooming and went off to the warehouse.  I bought enough supplies for work, but enough to fit on paratransit.  I can't say enough about the combination packs.  They have saved me on many occasions. 

Our one truck guy is out sick this week.  The other guy is busy.  We need more truck guys. 

I got to work and stocked it all, helped Ron, and organized the stockroom.  The guys from the state took some dead equipment, so I have more room on my racks. 

We came home.  It was a longer ride, the other client was rather rude to the driver.  I was happy to see her exit. 

Finally, home.  I took a short nap.  Ron kept talking to me, but I was so tired I fell asleep anyway. 

Torbie joined me again. 

I woke up, did my God Time (I do my best, these days).  Our ride came to take us to dinner. 

Ron had already made the trip, and wasn't hungry, so we just had sodas and talked.  It was not a table service place. 

We came home, Ron went to bed, and I watered my plants out back.  The Jerusalem Artichokes are not liking the heat.  I watered it, and my bay tree, about the only garden I have left. 

The rest is pretty dessicated, and mowed within an inch of it's life (we have a yard guy). 

Now, bed.  Tomorrow should be an interesting day off.  I'll tell you all about how I dropped my menstrual cup in the toilet (thank God at home). 

God knows I need it. 

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Something to smile about

I've been busy at work the last couple days. 

Today was New Vending Machine - well, New To Me, day. 

First I had to have my repairman come and swap the locks out.  It has to go back to Austin with a lock and key. 

Most of our machines are keyed alike.  We're not handing out keys!  We do, however, have "junk" locks. 

He came, we did that. 

I stocked what I could, helped Ron. 

And waited. 

They said the new machine would arrive sometime this morning.  We got there at 6:51. 

We got bored.  I read my book, finished it, and began taking photos. 

Treats for the movers. 

Ron, with a bucket on his head. 

Ron, with the bucket, pretending to beg for money. 

The boss' assistant called, she was bringing the machines.  Happily the "manager" treat worked for either of them. 

They were "right around the corner".  Half an hour later, they came in, my "new" snack machine on a pallet jack.  I did a happy dance and called it "pretty". 

It's a Crane 160.  I was delighted to see it.  I have worked with one before (they took it due to poor sales), and liked it a lot.  It was well behaved and problem free.  I never had a complaint. 

It was old (fine) and in terrible condition (fixable), covered in grease and ick all over the glass, half the labels missing (how can you buy an item if you don't know it's A5, or the price?), old merchandise in the storage compartment in the bottom of the machine. 

I didn't complain.  I don't care that it's "old" (about 17 years old).  I cleaned up the other issues, polished the glass, cleaned out the THREE YEAR OLD products in the bottom of the machine, set prices, and made labels.  It looks a million times better, like I always had it. 

It's a good, reliable, machine.  That's what I need, that's what I got.  Praise God. 

After they left, of course I had to stock it.  I did that.  I was able to fill most of it with good products. 

The rest, I'll buy tomorrow, and it will look great. 

Snack one has a glitch.  Selection 22 doesn't work at all.  It's a control board issue, due to the power issues we had 2 weeks ago. 

[bad word] 

However, I have a homeless toy flamingo.  I will put him in #22 so I don't stock it, and the customers will have something to smile about. 

The boss said I could keep "my" coin mech, and the product pushers.  Those are hugely helpful.

I was glad I asked.  My motto: if I don't ask, it's stealing.

Since the door is literally hanging off the snack machine, it's clearly going to the scrapyard.  They would have let me keep anything I wanted.

All done, we went home.  I was exhausted.  I kept falling asleep.

When we got home, I put up the garbage cans and took a nap.  I slept a little over an hour.

Ron wanted to go out to dinner.  I said, sure.

I just remembered I have yet to take my medication!   GULP.  Done.

Oh, and I forgot.  I'm still having my period, so one point in my very long day found me in the bathroom, my (clean) hand groping inside my passage, trying to grab the elusive menstrual cup for emptying.  I finally got it, emptied it (looked like a massacre!), cleaned it up, and reinstalled, all praying desperately not to drop it in the toilet because I would never retrieve it.   Of course I washed, very well, before going back to work (at that point I was done stocking and only waiting on our ride). 

When we got home, I found a package from China labeled MENSTRUAL CUP in English and Chinese, in my mailbox.  That's a little awkward. 

I'm trying it out now.  We'll see how it works.  I washed it and dunked it in boiling water for a while. 

So, dinner: Ron called a cab.  We went to the restaurant. 

It's one of those places that invested, hugely, in decor.  It looked nice, and table service. 

The waitresses were barely dressed in skimpy tops and short-shorts.  But, as I told Ron "They can pull it off." 

When our waitress came by, Ron told her, earnestly "My wife told me about your uniforms".  She shot me a glance.  "It must be so hard to work in that long skirt!" 

She smacked hm on the shoulder and grinned at me.  We had fun.  The food was good, but not cheap.

"We're celebrating the new Snack machine" I told him. 

Monday, July 20, 2015

Good news

I had a pretty horrible morning. 

Snack 2's door is completely broken now.  Why would you try to break into a dead and empty machine?  I even took out the flamingo, which is sitting on my monitor here at home. 

I barely got it open and unloaded everything we might need.  Some things had to stay in the machine.  Manual, some parts. 

We removed the rest.  It was very depressing. 

I stocked the rest of my snacks and helped Ron.  We squabbled a little: Ron always thinks I should be "on-demand".  I have other job duties, and my hands are often full of product.  I have to at least stock it so I can aid him. 

I was horribly depressed, and hadn't slept well. 

You get the idea. 

I notified our boss, as required, of the dead vending machine. 

We left work and had to sit outside someone's house for over 30 minutes because "we were early".  I get it.  Not long ago someone had to wait about 10 minutes, outside our house. 

I should have read my Kindle. 

We picked her up and chatted.  My phone rang.  The boss. 

"We will bring your new machine on Wednesday.  We don't know what we're giving you". 

"I'm not picky" I replied "I'm sure it's a good one". 

We confirmed the time, and Ron began squawking.  The cable guy was coming out to set up wi-fi. 

I hung up and told Ron this was way more important, that he knew as well as me, everything else has to melt around these deliveries. 

He rescheduled with the cable company. 

Sunday, July 19, 2015


Well, it's official. 

My uterus is demented, and I'm probably in menopause.  My cycle was due on Friday.  Thursday I began spotting, which has continued to this day. 

One of my friends complained "I had a very light flow for 3 weeks, my breasts were tender, and that was it".  Well, I've got the light flow and the tenderness. 

The cup is doing the job, catching what I do produce.  I have lots (to me) of cute pads if I want to lose the cup completely, but I'm not willing to risk it on a church or work day. 

Church today, work tomorrow.  I'm washing my cup right now.  Female wash, in the sink, very hot water.  Then I let it air dry overnight.  My flow is light enough I can do this. 

I should have another cup coming eventually.  Oh, God, please don't let that one pop open at work.  That would be awkward.  "Hey, Heather, we found your ah, thing?" 

"What does it do?" 

They would probably never buy my snacks again! 

I am a little early for menopause, but I read in my Merck Manual that ovarian surgery can cause an earlier onset.  I'm fine with that.

God knows the surgeon told me, himself, "We did a lot of cutting".  Cutting tissue leads to scar tissue.  Scar tissue doesn't make hormones.

Heck, I told him to take both ovaries if he had to.   That was 15 years ago, plenty of time for children if I'd wanted. 

I'm fine with that.  As I see it, only 2 worries:  Bone loss.  This was an issue for someone I know.  I take a mineral supplement and strive to get enough protein.  Issue 2: weight gain.  Like I need that. 

I'll just be more careful with the snacking. 

Second: depression!   Horrible!

I did get to church today, with Ron, but it was a circus.  I love it when I get up 2 hours before the pickup, and they are an hour late.  Then they want to know when the service starts.

We did arrive in time for the sermon, which Ron liked.  "Don't let your past mistakes define you".  He does tend to flog himself over past issues.

I did have a little fun at the store recently.  I bought a swiveling bucket seat lid.

I want extra cat food.
Gravy will chew through the bag.
I have to put it in a 5 gallon bucket (the mylar bag of cat food sits in the bucket)
I don't have 5 gallon bucket lids (they stopped making them?)
I need a seat when Baby Girl steals my chair (happens a lot).
I need a swiveling seat when I do Bible prep for the handouts, so I can turn back and forth without wrecking my back.

I had the cat food in a 5 gallon bucket, but I needed the lid.

So: I found, and bought, a bucket seat lid.
Contains the cat food.
Is a seat.

$10, money well spent.  I have already used it on several occasions.  Cat food has now become furniture.  It has a green and brown camo pattern, which clashes with my curtains, but I'm OK with that.

I do need to work on the self-talk, especially when I'm depressed.  I see nothing good in myself.   Even Ron says I need to stop talking that way, be nicer to myself, etc.

If he notices...  Hm.

I plan to get a book or two on Cognitive Behavioral Therapy.

I have to admit, I have such a huge distaste for therapy:
I always had people saying my mother was so broken, etc, she couldn't give me love and attention or even a freaking card on my birthday.   She had been traumatized.

I wish, even now, someone would say "Heather, your birthmother was very selfish and immature".  I would have much rather heard that.  It's like everyone was saying I couldn't be mad at her because she lost a baby before I was even born.

I'm sorry.  But you had me, too.  

Then in therapy for years and years and no one saw I was bipolar, even though I was clearly having manias.  It was all "Bad Mommy hurt you, how does that make you feel?"

Then, after a spectacular blackout and yet more revelations of infidelity (before our marriage, but while we were "together"), I dragged Ron to a marriage counselor.  He totally missed I was bipolar, and I was clearly cycling (he even mentioned something to the effect).  He kept saying I "had to get over the past" even though Ron was currently, extremely, verbally abusive.  I did get him to teach Ron about personal space.  Ron and I gave up on him.

I did have one good experience, at a clinic.  The therapist ran down the abuse checklist and I said yes to all of it (save the sex).  He asked me what it meant to me, if I had been abused, and how that would affect the way I lived.  He let me conclude I had jumped from one abusive relationship (family) into another (Ron).  Him, I'd see again.  He was great.

I am far more likely to trust men, anyway.  In my world women are judgemental,  unpredictable,  backstabbers.   In a "close" relationship, at least.

It doesn't help that all of Ron's cheats were women I trusted, to some degree.

Anyway, trying to be positive.

I woke up with a tail yesterday.  I felt rather tricked.  I went to sleep with Torbie, and woke up with Biscuit.  He had his butt nestled against mine, swishing his tail.  It felt like it was my tail.

Torbie will climb into bed, visit, and then go lay on a storage box.  I pulled it out from under the bed to store some books, and she likes it.  I'm leaving it out for now.

It's all about the cats in my world.

Baby Girl uses my chair, I sit on the cat food, and Torbie sleeps on my books instead of my bed.

It will be interesting to see how the machines did yesterday, sales wise.  We will probably need to do some kind of supply run on Tuesday.

I'm still figuring out inventory for two machines, instead of three.  I either have too much or not enough.  

Saturday, July 18, 2015


It was a strange night. 

I had to get up at 4.  I went to bed late, around 9. 

The headache, and my bladder, woke me up around 11.  I took some aspirin and dealt with my business.  As I came out of the bathroom I heard Techno Boy. 

Someone was playing loud Techno music in the neighborhood.  A little note on my composition: about a third each black and latino.  The other third is split between asians and whites. 

In over 11 years, I have never heard techno music.  It didn't abate. 

I looked outside.  #6 had a visitor, a small red car.  Interesting, someone over after all the kids in bed. 

#2 had his garage wide open.  He de-hoarded it a little, but it still looks awful.  But - he's quiet. 

It wasn't either of them. 

I got dressed and went outside, debating if I should go seek the noisemaker.  If I found the source, I could call the police, but they would know I "told".  Plus, the person could be a psycho rapist mutilator. 

As I cogitated, I the music got louder, coming down the main street.  Techno Boy turned on my street and passed my house.  He was driving a small blue car, a white guy, pretty clean cut.  Definitely not a neighbor. 

He drove off and the music stopped. 

I went back in the house, wondering if #6's guest would leave, or stay the night.  They always slam the door and it generally wakes me. 

Sure enough, I heard the door slam, then diaper duty into the trash can.  As near as I can figure, they have been on diaper duty for over 12 years now. 

I don't envy them one bit. 

Speaking of child bearing, my cycle has been really strange this month.  I have a lot of tenderness and, basically, very minor spotting only.  I keep waiting for the big bang - the torrential floods I'm used to, but nothing yet. 

I continue to wear my cup, with a thin backup pad in place.  I expect I am closer to menopause which is just fine with me.  I had a 30 year window on childbearing.  I think that's long enough. 

I awoke, exhausted, a few hours later.  We had to go to work and meet our repairman.  I had various issues with my machines. 

First issue: declare snack #2 dead.  (he did)  Second Issue: fix "bad" coil on Snack #1.  (he did)  Both problems, he said, were directly related to the brownout/power outage last Friday.  Third issue, convert one of my (2) remaining snack machines to sell chewing gum. 

People get very upset if they can't get their chewing gum. 

He did all of that. 

I stocked, helped Ron stock, and we actually had a little downtime before we went home. 

Exhausted, I crawled into bed. 

After a short nap (surprisingly, only an hour and a half), I awoke and went to Walmart with Ron.  I had to get my prescription.  I did that. 

It isn't cheap.  $100 for 3 months. 

But they're using a new manufacturer.  Perhaps I'll have fewer side effects.  The tablets are certainly smaller.  They also had long and exhaustive warnings about suicidal depression. 

I did become suicidal when I was given Prozac.  I didn't respond to 20 mg.   So they upped me to 40.  I became suicidal.  Direct relation. 

Even if I weren't allergic, I wouldn't be a fan of SSRI antidepressants. 

I did a little personal shopping, not much, but got some organizer stuff. 

We had a good ride home. 

Now, bed early, I pray. 

Even better, a good night of uninterrupted sleep. 

Friday, July 17, 2015


God is slowly calling Ron to account for his drinking. 

The other night, Ron recorded himself mumbling drunkenly, eating, and snoring.  He was pretty horrified, kept saying he was sorry, it must have been an unusual night, etc. 

I said, in a matter of fact fashion, that's pretty much every night.  I didn't get upset, I just stated the fact.  Ron looked like I'd smacked him in the face with a dead fish.  He listened to it, over and over. 

I did find it funny that he appears to "like" 80's pop (normally he is more into old soul and R&B, and 70's music) when drunk.  I sang along with the song as Ron gaped at me. 

I guess I was supposed to be horrified at the drunken mumbling.  [snort]  If THAT bothered me...

Last night I heard him eating chips, but he didn't keep me up. 


Unless, of course, you or a cat needs the hospital, or the house is on fire.  Then you can wake me. 

This morning, I heard him awake and went to say hello.  He was in a very sour mood. 

It appeared as though a bag of tortilla chips had exploded in his bed.  "That's your mess" I told him.  "You clean it up."  Rule #2. 

Unless he is truly unable to clean it, which has happened a few times.  However, dry chips are certainly doable. 

If he broke a glass or dropped food on the floor, I would clean it.  He would just make a mess and hurt himself.  

He started yelling at God.  If something goes wrong, if he messed up in any way, if my problems "impede" him in any way, it is always and constantly "God's" fault.  Ron screams filthy curses at God, raving, etc. 

I finally told him "Remember when you got upset at me for what you saw as my 'bad attitude' the other day?" He started cursing; he knew what was coming. 

"You're doing it".   When he is "sober" verbally - that's the only analogy that fits, when he gets into verbal abuse mode, it consumes him, like alcohol.  He's like a runaway train, nothing can stop him, and if he thinks I am "trying to shut him out" he gets even more venomous.  He won't receive this, though. 

When I have explained my view to him, I'm the only one who's around.  I'm the one who loves him, helps him with everything, etc... why attack me for something I didn't even do? 

It is wrong for him to attack me like that even over something he believes I did do, but we'll work up to that.  He won't accept it now. 

When he was in a listening mood, and wanting to accommodate me, and prove he is a good husband (he gets that way sometimes when he feels I have gone above and beyond), I told him his attitudes can be very upsetting and hurtful. 

"Just tell me" he said smugly.  "I'll always stop." 



I got him the vacuum and took my shower.  I heard him cursing as I bathed. 

I may "coddle" him, per my brother in law (before we were expelled from "the family"), but I won't enable. 

For instance, "I'm going to the liquor store and buying an expensive bottle of alcohol".

Me: "Could you at least try the generic?  What if it's just as good and half the price?"  I am always thrifty, so that's not unusual for me. 

I won't even "let" him buy me a new TV, even though TNT is now speaking Spanish with English subtitles.  [giggle]  Actually, a driver told me that's the best way to learn spanish.   Today I learned "Borracho" means drunk (as in alcoholic). 

The way things are going, I absolutely need to learn spanish.  

I got out of the shower and took back the vacuum.  Ron made a lot of rude comments about my housekeeping "I'm surprised you could find it."   I ignored him. 

I am 100% certain Ron has Narcissistic personality disorder.  I am unsure whether he has Borderline Personality.  I am, however, absolutely certain Ron has deep, chronic, long-standing depression.  He has never really faced a lot of the horrible things that happened to him.  He buries that, I think, in the bottle. 

I am not stupid enough to think "The love of a good woman" can fix all that.  All I can do is try to support him in a healthy, non-enabling way.  Unfortunately that means a lot of (figurative) battle scars for me in the process. 

Sometimes I get into a bitter, self-pitying, whiny, mood.  "Why me?"  Why couldn't I have the "good" husband?  Why did I have to marry a drunk? 

Then I remind myself I DID NOT seek God's advice, in the matter. 

Thursday, July 16, 2015

The dog is gone (#6)

Yesterday I had to work very late. 

I arrived home exhausted, depressed, and hungry.  I hadn't slept well the night before and missed my God Time that morning. 

I had a choice, computer or God Time.  I chose God Time. 

Last night I heard #6 cleaning up his backyard, throwing things away.  This morning, I realized the dog is gone. 

He had a brick blocking the gate.  The dog was ripping boards off the gate and coming to visit us. 

A few weeks ago, his wife came out to find Ron and the dog interacting, hard to say who was more delighted.  The dog had broken a board off the gate, from the inside.  Ron was rubbing her tummy and baby talking her (something I had never seen them do, petting, talking to them, or spending more than 2 minutes a day with the poor animal). 

The dog clearly adored him.  Whenever she got out she came over to play with the cats (except Torbie, who hates dogs), interact with us, and lie in our yard, wearing a big doggy grin.  I'm not a big dog lover but I did talk kindly to her. 

He (the father/husband at #6) would get angry and yell at her to come.  She wouldn't, because she didn't know him and liked us better. 

We came with petting and attention.  

I think the last incident was, for him, the final straw.  She barked a lot at night, keeping HIM up too.  I would always remind myself of that as I'd lie in bed "She's keeping him up, too".

I knew he had gotten the dog as an impulse thing.  But no one ever interacted with her.  She was getting pretty good at not barking, but she may have had some other problem behaviors, like chewing, I don't know about. 

All I know: she's gone.  I assume she's in someone's lap, "watching TV", getting her tummy rubbed, and loving the air conditioning (as far as I could tell she was never permitted in the house). 

As far as I see it, this is a huge win for the poor dog.  Hopefully they have "learned" they don't want another dog. 

Frankly, it would have been a lot worse if they'd gotten a cat, because we'd have had constant fighting. 

Anyway, due to the cleanup/whatever, I didn't get to sleep until really late. 

Today was truck day.  I had to move over 40 cases of soda: onto a cart, onto the pickup, onto the carts, into the building/stockroom. 

I also had to buy snack products, including about 100 pastries (for just 2 machines!), stock them, help Ron, load the fridge, try to cram over 50 cases of inventory into a 34 square foot stockroom, while making room for 10 more cases of water arriving tomorrow, etc. 

I did it. 

It wore me out. 

I was really proud of myself: I knew it would be miserable, hot and sweaty work, very dehydrating.  I am at very high risk of low blood sodium, especially in the summer.  I have to consume a lot or I'll get sick. 

This morning, I took 2 salt tablets along with my antidepressant and drank a Gatorade on the way to the warehouse.  This says a little about me, properly medicated: I always buy the clear Gatorade because I spill it on myself. 

Sure enough, I did. 

I was fine.  They didn't have a cart attendant to assist me (for what I paid they should've!), so I had to load the truck, entirely, by myself.  Someone came along at the last minute and threw the last couple cases onboard. 

Thanks, I guess. 

We got to work, I fetched the carts, and unloaded. 

Then all the things I already talked about. 

I was depressed, exhausted, and working very hard.  Ron doesn't receive my depression as "depression".  He sees "angry bitch" and made sure to tell me in great detail as we waited on our ride.  I kept telling him "All I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry" "I am depressed and tired, that is all."  "I am not angry at anyone, including you.".  He just rolled on. 

God will deal with him on that, one day.  [sigh]  It would just be nice if he were more supportive. 

I got home, greeted the cats (at least someone loves me), ate, took my medication, and took a nap.  I had strange dreams but awoke pretty well rested, for me.  Exhausted at a level 4, instead of a 7. 

I did my God time and we went to the mall. 

Ron: "There's not one store, you want to shop?"
Me: "No, but I want to go to the sporting goods store tomorrow". 

I ate some mac and cheese from the italian place.  It is very good, and I have plenty for breakfast. 

Ron ate some Teriyaki and asked me to buy him burritos, which I did.  He will be eating for days. 

I'm still tired, I'm cramping, my muscles hurt, still depressed, but I did it all and thank God I have tomorrow off. 

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

A post for my Ukrainian readers!

Мій чоловік хоче подякувати вам за прекрасний коньяк. Він любить випити Shevkoff іноді.
Miy cholovik khoche podyakuvaty vam za prekrasnyy konʹyak. Vin lyubytʹ vypyty Shevkoff inodi.
Мені дуже подобається бачити свою країну в моєму списку " країн". Дякую!
Meni duzhe podobayetʹsya bachyty svoyu krayinu v moyemu spysku " krayin". Dyakuyu!

Bucket of cysts

"My mouth tastes like rubber gloves" I whined at Ron. 

We went to the dentist.  The dentist likes chatting to Ron while he works. 

Xrays, brief exam from Latino Guy (the new assistant).  He poked around and left. 

Later on he came back and loaded the Xrays on the computer.  They looked fine, except for the scar tissue. 

I need to tell you about that.  I've always had problems with anxiety.  It was especially bad as a child, very "high strung". 

Add suicidal depression to the mix.  Then take me to the dentist to have four teeth pulled under a local. 

As I lay in the chair, feeling absolutely raped, bloody tools passing in front of my eyes, horrible crunchings I could hear and feel,  the unsympathetic dentist shoving my jaws apart, my mouth full of blood in spite of the suction (I am a "bleeder" in dental parlance), I lost it. 

I began screaming.  I threatened to bite him.  I could feel some pain, so they doped me up with more lidocaine and left me sitting in the chair, all the bloody picks and probes, along with broken extracted teeth sitting in the tray in front of me, for about 15 minutes. 

If they thought I was bad before... 

He left a bone fragment behind, on the first extraction, when I was behaving.  Oddly enough he got the others out "clean" and I had no troubles.

When he finished, we all looked as if we'd run a marathon. 

My stepmother was conflicted.  On the one hand, she cared what the neighbors thought, but on the other I had clearly been traumatized.  She took me home and put me to bed. 

The next day, after the other kids left, I was allowed to watch all the TV I wanted (any channel) while she ran errands.  She prepared soft foods for a few days (they took middle teeth, not molars or incisors), until I could eat again. 

Ever since, I always hated the dentist.  That dentist flatly refused to ever treat me again. 

I was Not Happy to find out I had to have my wisdom teeth out, 5 years later.  They said they would do it under a local and I objected.  Strongly. 

Overruled, "Insurance would only pay for a local". 

Dad was not a poor man. 


About that time, I ran off with Ron. 

Ron sure couldn't afford to have my teeth out, not that I was in a big hurry.  However, the lower right one began pushing one of my incisors.  I applied for Medicaid. 

They told me I could get food stamps, too.  "I have enough to eat" I replied, as she gaped at me. 

I found The Only Entodontist who took Medicaid, not far from my home.  I walked over, had my evaluation. 

"You have a cyst in your jaw.  We need to take it out and ensure it's not cancer." 

Huh, I thought.  I didn't have a cyst 5 years ago when they kept showing me the X-rays and selecting the extraction victims.  "It's a result of your extraction". 

"Oh, and Medicaid will only pay for a local."

I couldn't do that.  She was talking about cutting open my gums, and drilling the molars in half.  I thought the first time was bad....

I was making about $80 a week.  Ron's entire income went to our living expenses.  I did not have an emergency fund.  We were living check to check. 

I did the thing I swore I would never do.  I begged my father for money. 

The cost: $150.  He said he'd loan it to me, but I had to make a $50 payment every month for three months. 

Remember the part where I didn't have any extra money? 

If I'd had that kind of money, I could have afforded to pay for it myself.  And I was his daughter.  I wasn't asking him to pay for an abortion! 

[sigh]  Took me a while to work through that one, let me tell you.  I did pay him back, in a timely manner. 

I signed his contract (!) and left with the check in my hand.  He would only write a check out to the doctor, not me. 

And he wonders why I never asked for money again.  That said, it is his money.  He can do whatever he wants with it. 

I had the surgery.  That's a funny story.

Ron had just started his new job.  It is really hard for blind people to find work.

He couldn't take time off from his job to help me, the day of my operation.  I said that was fine.

"I'll pay for a cab" Ron replied.

"We can't send you home in a cab." they replied.  "Legal issues.  She absolutely cannot go home in a cab."

Ron and I hate to ask for favors.

He did, however, know a cab driver.  He thought perhaps he could ask Chris to pick me up in his personal car, appearing to be a friend but in actuality a cab ride. 

Ron called and presented the problem.  Chris no longer drove for Yellow but he had an answer.  "I won't show up in a cab" he swore, "But I'll be there". 

We didn't know Chris had started an executive transport service, and had just bought a new Mercedes Limo.  I'm sure those gals are still talking about my ride home. 

I was so happy as I felt the drugs entering my arm, knowing I wouldn't have to endure the extraction.  When I awoke, they looked as if they'd run a marathon. 

They sure earned their earmark, whatever it was.  They had to chip away parts of my jawbone to get the teeth out.  I can only imagine that horrible scene.  Part of my cheek was sewn to the gumline, where they'd taken out the cyst (about an inch in diameter). 

The nurse put my glasses on my face; SOMETHING I HATE.  If you are in the medical field, PLEASE offer the patient their glasses.  The last thing we want after an operation is some stranger jabbing our glasses at us, trying to align them.  They did that after my ovarian cyst surgery. 

I'm just a bucket of cysts!  [laugh] 

The surgery left a lot of scar tissue, inside my mouth and inside my jaw/sinus cavity.  I developed a lot of sinus trouble afterward. 

I wish I had just left it alone.  It wasn't bothering me but they kept yelling it could be cancer. 

As I looked at the X-ray today, I could see where the cyst had actually pushed the root of one tooth, downward (the one that was bothering me).  The upper right bicuspid. 

I mused about all my dental dramas. 

Doc came in, chatted us up.  Told us how his dog died and he got another.  I asked about the new one and he showed me photos.

He poked around for a minute and gently probed my gum.  I almost hit the ceiling.

"There it is" he murmured.  He rolled back and pulled down his mask.  "You need a {I didn't get the name, but a gum procedure}".  I nodded.

Bad gums run in the family, my Dad has terrible problems, and I have had them too, even with good oral care.

He left.  The billing lady came back.

Ron's last procedure was over a thousand dollars, with our plan.  He was in cold sweats over my bill. 

I looked at the itemized bill.  "It's $130"

Ron sagged in relief.

"No it isn't" the clerk replied.  Ron cringed. 

"You already paid the {something} so it's only $86.  Would you like to pay now?"

Ron couldn't get his wallet out fast enough, grinning ear to ear.

"I told you" I chided him, grinning "I'm cheap."

He laughed.

Then the dentist came back and the fun began.  I was expecting "A scraping".  Apparently they've progressed, or my case was that bad.

He used some kind of drill.  I could feel the calculus flying back up all over my tongue, between my teeth, etc.  It was mildly painful but I'd undergo it again.

He was very busy, one quadrant at a time.  Front first, then back, then between.  My mouth filled with blood.

Like I said, I'm a bleeder, and I warned him.

They sucked,  they irrigated, the high pitched whine of the device vibrating my teeth.  I kept reminding myself, I only have 24 teeth (4 pulled for braces, 4 wisdom).  I counted down, how many I had left.

A  couple times I wanted to get up and run, but I laid there and tried to relax.  I could see the blood going up the stem of the irrigator and had to remind myself I always do that.

"You bled a lot at first" he said.  Yeah, I noticed!  "But once I got the calculus off you stopped."

I had forgotten.  

We left and went to Walmart.  About halfway though my "shop" I began to feel the pain and swelling.  Yes, my gums needed the scraping.

But they always hate it.  They are absolutely purple now and I can barely eat. 

Even with the painkillers, I still feel as though my gums underwent a beating. 

"I have a really dry mouth" I told Doc.  "You can see what it does.  How often should I have this done?"

Every six months.  

I think I'll go hide under the bed for a while.   

Monday, July 13, 2015

Track 5

"I need to apologize" I told the blue-shirted maintenance guy.  "I was a cranky bitch, and I'm sorry." 

He gaped at me.  "What?" 

"Saturday, with the freezer?   I was pretty rude, and I'm sorry" (I snapped at him a couple times over something that was "totally" not his fault).  I regretted it. 

"Oh, that's OK."  He said graciously.  "I'm just glad it's working again." 

"Well," I told him "I want to make it up to you."  I gave him a bag of fun size Snickers.  He was sure happy to get them!   I felt much better, knowing I'd acted as a civilized human being. 

Last night, I lay in bed, bug-eyed from caffeinated headache pills (they're the only ones that work), thinking I have to get up at 2 am.  

It was hideous.  Then I heard #6 come home.

Now, I'm not going to tell you "My neighbor's on vacation".  They could get robbed and it would be my fault.  I can say, they were

A little backstory: several years ago he used to park his truck in the driveway, truck bed loaded with tools (he works some kind of construction).  I always thought that was a Bad Idea. 

But, MYOB, so I kept my opinions to myself. 

For over 10 years, I have heard their garbage can thump EVERY time they did a diaper change on their 6 children.  Sometimes they had a couple in diapers at the same time, and they always took it straight out of the house and threw it in the can, propped against the fence right next to my bedroom wall, THUMP - all hours of the night, waking me up every time. 

[They have finally stopped this with the latest baby.  I have to assume they bought, or were gifted, a diaper genie.  If I'd known that's what it would take I would have bought them one myself!]

Anyway, one night, sure enough, a loud thump by my bedroom wall, waking me up.  I rolled over in bed, Unhappy Thoughts.  I heard a couple more thumps, wondered "What the HELL are they doing?" and went back to sleep. 

The next day, as we're leaving for work, the Mr comes by, all pissed.  "Someone stole the generator out of my truck!" 

You left it out, like a big freaking carrot.  I told you when my garage was robbed a couple years ago, and you still left it out.  Not only that, you didn't even secure it. 

I kept my mouth shut and tried to look properly outraged, instead of saying "What did you expect?"  He asked me if I had "heard anything". 

"I heard some banging in the middle of the night, but I figured you were taking out the trash."  
"You didn't notice the time?"
"No, I didn't.  I just thought 'It's awfully late to take out the trash.'"
He got all pissy and basically blamed me.  He kept asking me WHEN it happened, I kept telling him I don't know - you always take the trash out late at night (and clearly it is waking me up, but unsaid, that), I didn't think it was unusual, I went back to sleep.  Yelling at me is not going to get your generator back. 

It's your own damned fault!  Didn't say it, but thought "What an asshole". 

I also felt sorry for his wife, and VERY glad I married Ron.   He did smarten up, eventually, and bought a truck with built in, locking, toolboxes.

So, imagine what I thought when I saw a very expensive stroller tied to the top of the Mrs' SUV, very early Friday morning.  They must have left it there all night. 
1.  Didn't he learn his lesson? 
2.  Oh, thank God, they are going on vacation.  They were gone by the time we got home Friday.

I wish I could have enjoyed it, but I have had horrific anxiety lately.  So bad I will be cutting back on the aspartame.  I'm not consuming enough caffeine to explain this. 

I was Not Happy Sunday night to hear the [censored] trash can again.  They kept taking stuff out for hours.  Why didn't they throw away their trash at their destination, or one of the pit stops?  The baby doesn't crap that much. 

I was glad, in a resigned sort of way, that I was already awake.  I would have been a lot more annoyed if they had kept waking me up. 

I had secretly hoped they'd be gone a week, like they were last time (several years ago).  Oh, well. 

This morning came far too soon.  As I rolled over in bed, it made a strange noise.  Something has broken, on the right side of the bed. 

For my nap, I slept on the left side, but now I have to contact the seller, try to fix this if I can, etc.  Aggravation. 

I just want to lie down and sleep on a reliable bed every night.  I haven't had one in the last 9 years! 

Here's where I could go to the poor pitiful me why does this always I just wanna... but I won't. 

I will fix this. 

I got up, took my shower, made sure to apply the deodorant everywhere.  Once or twice I have had a failure and they're terrible. 

Our ride was almost an hour late.  I hate it when they're that late, know it, and then ask "When do you have to be at work?" 

"An hour ago, [censored]"  I let Ron answer that one, and he was very polite. 

We got our deliveries.  We went up a little on the sandwich order, some more variety.  They should be very popular with the customers. 

We got all our deliveries, stocked everything, got it all done. 

The other vendor had an experience on a road trip, she had been ripped off at a gas station, she felt.  She was ranting about it and saying she would never "do that to my customers".  It is funny how God uses things to keep us accountable. 

My machines were behaving, save the dead one.  Ron called our "gal" and she said once the repairman certifies it dead, she can have a used snack machine shipped from the warehouse to us.  Good. 

We had to go to the bank after work.  We did that, Ron paid me.  Yay.  I like getting paid on odd days, so we don't have a long line at the bank. 

Paratransit would have left us there an hour and 40 minutes after we were done, so Ron called one of "our" cab drivers.  We made arrangements, cancelled the trip (got a bad mark but he is allowed 5 per month), and took the cab home. 

Worth it.  An extra hour plus on our lives. 

I pretty much went straight to bed.  I think Ron stayed up a little, then took a nap himself.  He's still asleep, but he usually is this time of day.  His circadian rhythm is all messed up.  He is not interested in drugs. 

I approve. 

Besides, I need some time to myself.  I can't always be "on" in caregiver mode.  I'd burn out rapidly. 

When I got up, I drank some water, cleaned the toilet, did my God time with Biscuit.  Then I booted the computer. 

One last tale: A guy at work gave me a gospel rap CD done by his "Crew".  I like it a lot, and copied it to my hard drive. 

I saw him today.  Now, he lives in a notorious ghetto, and is pretty tough, but he lit up when he saw me.  I was heading out to a waiting deliveryman and he was going the other direction, on his own business. 

I grinned and gave him a thumbs up. 
"You liked it?" 
"It's great!  I copied it to my computer!" 
"You really liked it?" 
I rapped a couple lines from Track 5.  He grinned ear to ear as he headed off. 

Sunday, July 12, 2015

Curled up in a ball

Horrible headache. 

I did manage to go to Walmart, and Arby's.  And shower. 

The rest of the day has pretty much been curled up in a ball.  UGH. 

Biscuit and Torbie gave me plenty of attention, and Gravy let me pick him up and hug him for a while. 

Saturday, July 11, 2015

Could have handled that...

I didn't sleep well.  I kept getting up to urinate (normal, and my last kidney check a couple months ago came back fine). 

I awoke, exhausted and depressed.  I figured, screw it, no shower.  I just applied some deodorant and brushed my hair.  That's all they get. 

I even wore my baggy knit shorts, along with an oversized t-shirt and work boots. 

And the proper undergarments, of course.  :p 

Our ride was almost an hour late, and a very odd man.  He was from France.  He kept talking to Ron in French (Ron can speak a little Creole).  We got to work safely, though.  When we disembarked, he came over and hugged us. 

Ron was a little bugeyed over that but accepted the gesture. 

We got into work, only to find 4 managers in a panicked stampede over by the front door, screaming about 911.  I didn't hear a fire alarm, so I figured someone got sick/hurt. 

I was correct.  I was later told the air conditioning did not come on again after we lost power.  The "expansion" was a sweltering hellhole and someone had passed out.  I bet! 

I actually feel sorry for management, when the unions get ahold of this.  They will rain misery. 

We got into our area, and I went down the line.  Most of our vending machines are in a line: 2 sodas, a snack, a bill changer, cold food vendor, another changer, 2 snacks, and a third bill changer. 

I went down the line, initiating start up on the ones that weren't working, yelling "This one is up"  "Snack 1 is up!".  I also did test vends on the machines that had had problems. 

Snack 1, for instance, had been doing free vends on everything until I pulled the plug.  Working now.  Soda 2 was selling canned sodas for a dollar, the price being 75 cents!  I tested them, made sure they worked, everyone is happy. 

Except poor dead Snack 2, but it was positively geriatric.  I just pray we can get a new one, new to us at least, from Austin, in pretty short order. 

Ron decided to stock the bottled soda vendor before we left.  That's when we found the dead, warm, refigerator unit.  I was Not Happy and let the maintenance guys know. 

I wasn't awful, but I plan to apologize.  I could have handled that a lot better. 

I stomped out at our pickup time, dragging Ron "with". 

One of the maintenance guys followed us, about 10 minutes later, as we roasted on the hot plate that is the "pickup area".  He asked me to help them fix the unit.  I jogged back to the building and walked quickly over to it, barely out of breath. 

Not bad for a middle aged fat lady. 

I verified it was working, gave a happy screech, hugged the unit, gave them a thumbs up, and may have given them a little treat.  However, if I did I can't say that or we might all get in trouble. 

I went back out, told Ron it was OK (if nothing else I'm glad we came in for that).  Another odd driver, not a bad guy.  I think he was from one of the Eurostan countries.  He had an interesting accent.  We had a good talk. 

Finally, home. 

I figured, screw it, ate, and took my meds,  Then I went to bed and napped for a couple hours. 

I woke up with a mild headache but I hope the aspirin will do the trick. 

Oh, what a day. 

Oh, and Monday - Monday's going to be real fun.  I need more inventory.  But I have the dentist on Tuesday.  So, we have to go in at 3-4 AM on Monday, get two deliveries, put them up, stock what I do have, inventory, go to the warehouse, buy everything, put it in the truck, take it to work, unload, stock, and stuff into the stockroom. 


You can bet I will be consuming a protein shake Monday morning! 

Friday, July 10, 2015


I asked God for accurate test results, and I believe I got them. 

I am not allergic to wheat, soy, corn, or most other common allergens.  That is very useful in planning my disaster kit. 

I am, however, allergic to some unexpected things: garlic, bean mix (green, kidney, lima, navy), and shellfish. 

I'm not surprised about the shellfish.  1.  It's the number one allergy.  2.  My birth mother was allergic. 

I will explore peanuts and almonds, according to the blood test I am not allergic. 

Speaking of food, I need to finish eating and take my pills. 


Oh.  This day. 

We had some kind of power surge at work, which caused a small fire.  The alarm went off and we ignored it, thinking it was just another drill. 

A manager finally dragged us out, acting like the whole place was in flames. 

They finally let us back in, only to discover the power out and most of our machines malfunctioning. 


I didn't sleep well last night, in spite of the Benadryl.  I kept getting up to urinate. 

I didn't do my God time in the morning (did it before I logged on just now).  I did get my shower.  For *some reason* I was drawn to wear my extra comfy, oversized navy t-shirt.  So glad I did. 

I got to work, only to get shouted at by a customer.  I discovered Snack 2 had a coin jam, got that fixed.  Someone had tried to use a Mexican dime.  [sigh]  Don't do that. 

The board fried right as I closed it.  Dead as a doornail now.  Great.  I have a dead, fully stocked vending machine. 

I destocked it, donning my rubber gloves yet again as I dealt with the Crackers of Death (peanut butter).  I got shouted at a few times over my lack of Death Crackers.  I kept telling them, touching this stuff could kill me.  I will work out a way to stock but please be patient. 

Snack 2 is adjacent to Snack 1.  I basically used #2's inventory to stock #1. 

But #1 was acting up, if you used change it was acting funny.  [clutching my head]  I pray that is resolved tomorrow. 

About this time we had the Great Fire. 

I came back and #1 was giving away inventory every time I turned it on.  Well, I had to turn it off.  #2 was already dead so no worries.  #3 was the best - it at least said LOW AMPERAGE ERROR so I knew to turn it off, as well. 

We waited as long as we could, but when we left (2 hours late!), the plant was still running on generators, at a standstill.  I doubt much of Houston will get mail tomorrow. 

Since we were trapped outside, with half our inventory sitting on carts in the main area, we had to suspend our pickup.  Then work 2 hours overtime.  We had a pretty good ride home. 

The driver was a big, scary-looking, Nigerian dude.  He asked about the cats.  When we got to the house he squealed "Biscuit!  Hi Biscuit!" in an adorable tone of voice, as he saw Biscuit sitting in the doorway.  Biscuit didn't say hi, but he didn't run off, either. 

Thank God Ron had made a trip to Arby's.  I love Arby's and had asked for the trip. 

Since everything was suspended I could take a while after dinner, so I went over to the dollar store and loaded up on various items: dish soap for work, air fresheners, a cat toy, some snacks, etc.  I had a lot of fun and Ron was happy to wait. 

I got back and we had to wait an hour for our ride home, and the driver got lost.  I could see her riding around in the parking lot looking for us.  I kept waving - I don't know why she didn't see me. 

[sigh]  Finally, she arrived.  I loaded our items and we came home.  I still need to take my meds, but at least I am done for the day. 

I just pray, tomorrow, we find a steady power supply.  I pray the machines are working when I turn them on again. 

I did find it funny, the complex machines, like the bottle vendor and food machines, were fine.  The simpler machines, like snacks, were massacred. 

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...