Monday, August 31, 2015

Monday

I had a hard time falling asleep last night.  I even tried taking an antihistamine, which made me manic.  Counterproductive. 

About 8 PM, I put my rice pot on a timer, and filled with a half cup brown rice mixture (a mixture of brown rice and whole grains I got at the Vietnamese grocery, delicious), a quarter cup of lentils, and a cup and a half of water.  I used a little salt but nothing else. 

I set it to start cooking at 1, pushed the ON button, and laid in bed for hours trying to sleep. 

I finally fell asleep.  I'm having dreams, pretty much every night, about "leaving" on a one-way journey, which I assume relate to the rapture.  I have never dreamt of anything with such frequency. 

Do I think they are Holy Visions of some sort?  No.  Maybe God is talking to me, maybe it's just my way of expressing my hope I do get raptured soon.  At any rate they aren't bad dreams.  I can remind myself, during the dream, "I'm having the dream" and manage it. 

I woke up, disappointed I didn't smell food cooking.  I put on my glasses and went into the kitchen, to find a wonderful meal waiting in the pot.  I put it on WARM and took my shower. 

I really like the haircut, it is easier to clean, dry, manage, and even nicer, it doesn't get caught in my bra when I fasten it.  I got dressed and went back in the kitchen, dishing up about half my casserole. 

Perfection.  Now, I set it so it was on COOK for about an hour, and I soaked the ingredients for a couple hours first. 

The grains were just chewy enough, yet tender.  The lentils were perfect.  I was full for hours, and the Wellbutrin felt it was a suitable meal.  It also works with the other pills - very nice! 

We went to work. 

I had to laugh at God's timing.  Our driver was playing the Unshackled radio program, featuring a story of a hard core alcoholic.  I had to twitch a little as some of the reasoning matched Ron's exactly "I need it to sleep" etc.  Ron looked pretty solemn, thinking. 

Good.  I tell you, God is working on him.  I'm not going to let Ron destroy me, but I'm going to give God room to work, too.  Most importantly, I'll be praying for him in the process. 

We arrived just in time to watch the on-site police ending their "What 4th amendment?" bag search.  I understand, you don't want drugs or weapons, but it is disturbing. 

Anyway, they missed us.  I doubt they would have found my crap interesting, anyway. 

We went in, got 2 deliveries, stocked everything, did end of month accounting stuff, and waited an extra hour to pay a refund. 

I was exhausted. 

The Bible says not to call any man an idiot.  (Matthew 5:22).  I'll just say I think our return trip driver has a great career - in another field. 

When I got out, I silently praised God for the continued use of my legs, fleeing into the house. 

Ron followed, pushing his walker like an 80 year old man. 

I ate my food.  The timer had gone off but it was still warm.  I'd added a half cup of water when I left the house.  Next time I need to add more, it stuck a little at the bottom (maybe a tablespon), but it was fine, delicious, and cleaned easily.  I added a little butter because the lithium likes a little fat, and didn't have a single problem. 

Wonderful! 

I then collapsed into bed.  It was about 1 PM. 

I woke up a couple hours later, with a headache, took something, and went back to sleep for a while.  When I woke up again the headache was pretty much gone. 

It did crawl off after I drank about half a gallon of decaf iced tea. 

Sunday, August 30, 2015

Don't feed the drivers.

I found this one alarming. 

This morning Ron made a big production out of "forgiving" me.  Part of his little speech involved telling me how "crushed" or destroyed, some similar word, he had been.  How it was a "good thing" I was sorry for it (I never apologized) because he would "hate to have to crush you, too". 

WTF????

WHAT THE HELL DID I MARRY? 

I couldn't wait to get out of there.  I was already 90% out the door.  I knew, however, Ron would get angry about the garbage.  I was in the middle of trying to figure that out when he woke up. 

1.  He doesn't want me to take the trash out when he's sleeping, because it "wakes him up".  Fine.  I don't want to wake anyone up. 

2.  He wants me to "clean up" which involves generating trash. 

3.  He gets angry when I "fill up the garbage can and make more work for him".  He is a little OCD in his trash disposal.  He was incredibly upset he couldn't put his booze bottles in the recycle, even though he doesn't care about being "green".  I told him "Why not just throw them in the regular trash?"  That may be a head injury thing. 

Anyway, I was about to take the trash and put it in the garage until I came home, but he woke up so I tossed it.  That's when he hit me with the little nugget, above. 

I didn't even find the words as creepy as the tone of voice, this "I'm so loving" tone that put chills up my back. 

I needed several items, and a haircut.  I realized I could accomplish all of them if I went to the Walmart, which is now only 2 bus rides away.  I fled as soon as I could. 

I took a shoulder back, with an empty mesh backpack inside.  I did want to buy some stuff, not too much, and I figured that would work.  It actually works great.  The backpack folds up very nicely, leaving plenty of room.  I took a couple water bottles and ran out the door. 

I did not want to sit around in that house, him abusive and drinking.  No thanks. 

He probably thought I left because he "ordered" me to, last night.  He is a narcissist. 

I used to get upset at the thought of Ron reading my blog, now I'm not.  I only write the truth.  I only share my experiences, and my views around them.  If he has a problem with that he'll have to live with it. 

I rode the 85 to the end of the line, at the mall.  I had to wait about half an hour on the 86.  That was the worst wait I had all day. 

I boarded the 86, and we rode to the Walmart (eventually).  I had to ride with two, very weird, old white guys.  Both of them clearly delusional and they just gave me the creeps. 

It's funny, because I had plenty of black guys dressed in gang colors, which a white woman would probably find far more disturbing.  Not me. 

I went in and talked to the stylist.  About 45 minutes.  I did my shopping, and got everything, including the timer.  I will see how the lentils do in the rice pot, tonight. 

Speaking of food, I'm having some whole grain shredded wheat with flax seeds on top, for dinner.  Apparently flax helps with hormonal breast issues - I don't have them yet and I hope to prevent them this month. 

One of my drivers had complained of hunger, so I bought a box of granola bars and handed them out to bus drivers (after I "paid" with my card) all the way home.  They were a big hit.  I have to do that again. 

They have signs, no music, no smoking, no drinking, but they don't have a sign saying "Don't feed the drivers". 

I went to the hair place.  Since I had been out in the heat, I had her do a shampoo first.  I'm not going to have someone stick her hands into my sweaty hair!  We did that, and I told her I want to take off a couple of inches, about halfway down my back, use your good judgement. 

I have never had a bad haircut when I said that.  We did the trim and I am very happy with it.  I gave her a good tip.  I am an overtipper, and I am happy to say that.  I plan to go back, when it gets unreasonable, again. 

Ron and I talked off and on.  I had asked him if the boy cats liked beefy things, when I was looking at cat food. 

He seemed pretty reasonable and sober, but the minute I walked in the door he poured himself a huge drink.  Then wondered why I wasn't very chatty. 

So, what did I buy?  Vitamins.  I just did up my pills and I was out of Vitamin A.  I get horrible skin infections, and gingivitis attacks (horrific pain) if I run out.  I also got some E. 

Cat food and some nice bar soap for bathroom hand washing, it's a lot lighter to carry than the liquid, too.  I honestly didn't see a liquid soap that looked interesting. 

I got my timer, some snacks, and some Diet Dr Pepper.  I had a very good time. 

I decided to take 3 buses home rather than cross 1960, which is a very busy road.  I just don't need it, you know? 

I don't need any more drama in my life.  I mean, really? 

I waited a while, but not long, on the next 86.  I caught it over to the "good" stop.  Most people get off the bus and walk over to a shared 86/44 stop.  I'd only do that if I "had" to get a "good" seat.  Like I told the driver "I'm a lazy fat girl.  I don't want to walk any more than I have to!"  She laughed. 

I got off at the shared stop and waited (my secret stop also has plenty of seating due to a retaining wall).  Again, I hardly sat down before the bus came. 

On the way to my third bus, I got a little sick.  While I'm not allergic to almonds, they give me horrific heartburn.  I literally felt like I was having a heart attack.  Happily I carry some pepto chewables in my bus pass wallet. 

I got off, walked over to my 85 bus stop, and sat down.  Just for fun, I texted the bus stop number to the bus company.  They texted me back, informing me my next bus was due in a minute.  Yeah, ri...what? 

And there it was! 

I had a rough ride home due to the heartburn.  I am never eating almonds again.  Ugh. 

I got off at my stop and walked home.  It was hot but not too bad, and I'd hydrated.  I am also careful to take a salt tablet prior to any hot weather exercise, and it really helps (I do this because I take lithium, which depletes my body of salt - talk to your doc). 

I walked in the door, Ron and I chatted a minute, I gave Biscuit (left eyepatch, gray tail) a can of filet mignon.  He and the other cats (except Torbie, who hates wet food) agreed it was pretty good.  I serve it on disposable foam plates, and throw the whole works away when they're done. 

Ron started drinking and went to his room.  I found my rice pot and set it up with the timer (a little learning curve on the timer, there).  Ron started bugging me a little later but I told him I was busy. 

He was shocked. 

I was.  I guess I didn't display the "right attitude" but things are going to come to a head here, one way or another. 

I really need some prayer on this.  At the very least I want to drag him to get some counseling on PROPER ways to handle disappointment and hurt feelings. 

Saturday, August 29, 2015

Without me

I realized something today. 

Ron's a big talker.  Big mouth, big talk, I don't want you in my life.  You're everything bad.  You're the reason I hate God. 

Yet, today, he couldn't even find his way to the bus stop, without my assistance.  I still have to guide him, over a year after they finished the expansion. 

Because he can't even find the "door" without me. 

Not to play

I would never allow Ron near a child of mine.  It would kill me if my son treated his wife the way Ron treated me, or my daughter emulated my relationship with Ron.  

Earlier today, Ron complained he'd have to wait on drinking, if we went out tonight.  "Going out" in my experience, is generally a quick fast food hamburger. 

I'm happy with that, my love language is quality time.  I was happy.

We came home at about 6.  Ron immediately went to drinking and occupies the whole kitchen when he does, sitting on his walker.  I had to ask him to move so I could throw away the junk mail, and he took his drink with him.

It's generally BAD when he sits in the kitchen, on his mobility device, whatever it is, drinking.  Sure enough he started trying to pick fights.  I didn't respond.  He said something about how I had "offended" him so many times, and he was tired of forgiving me 7 times 77.

Many years ago, when we started dating, Ron asked me to please correct him if he said something ignorant.  He did not want to appear ignorant to anyone.  So, I do.  He always says thank you.

Tonight, he blew up.  How dare I judge him, etc.  I told him, you asked me to do this.  Do you want me to stop?

No!

Well, you yell at me correct you, but you want me to do it.  How do you propose to fix that?

He started cursing me.  [I have decided, on my own, I will not be correcting him anymore, especially with the drinking.]

I turned off.  I have the ability to shut off, not to receive anything thrown at me.  I hear it, but I don't accept it.  I go deadpan.  I don't show any emotion - because that's the harvest.  That's the bonus.  The goal of the whole project is getting me upset so they can point a finger and say "SEE!"

I have gone this route before, and not just with Ron.  It took me a long time to figure out; just like the movie War Games - the only way to win, is not to play.  

So, I don't. 

I got to listen to about 20 minutes of verbal abuse, called a bitch, POS, and "protoplasm hunk".  He was very upset I wasn't reacting.  He finally stomped off to his room for a while, made some cracks. 

My favorite "Don't bother calling your Dad.  He's dead."  [My stepmother inadvertently called Ron's phone earlier, and sent him a text later saying they'd be out of town tomorrow.]

Everything, Ron insisted, everything wrong in his life is My Fault.  He ordered me to "Go take the bus tomorrow and stay gone all day." 

Oh, he's ordering my schedule?  More than he does already?  [rolleyes]  Still didn't react, he gave up and left me alone. 

Now he's back in the kitchen, drinking again I presume (drinks 5-8).  I hope I'm wrong.  Hope, when he's done, he just goes to sleep, but I'm not counting on it. 

Most likely, he will do the whole sad-eyed "Why can't we get along?" thing, wherein he expects me to "keep the peace" by "admitting" everything that happened was entirely my fault, and he was completely justified responding the way he did "Because you hurt my feelings". 

The last time I told him about the 7 times 77 thing, he said thank you, and meant it. 

Will I play the whole "It's all Heather's fault", game?  No.  I will just say I'm sorry he got upset, that was not my intent, and I won't correct him again. 

He truly thinks it is OK to call me a b- c- whore, a slut, a cat molester, a child abuser, the most vile things you can imagine - because he got his feelings hurt.  It goes to the whole narcissistic personality thing.  They are "very sensitive". 

That, in my opinion, is their problem. 

In his mind, any emotional "injury" is an unspeakable insult, and requires a corresponding response.  So he hauls out his "arsenal" of verbal abuse and wonders why I seem so distant. 

He even said it's my fault he gets angry at God.  If I were a better wife, he said, he wouldn't get so angry at God.  So, he concluded, it's my fault.   He knows I get tired of hearing him complain about God. 

He's fumbling around for weapons.  God made it clear Ron's relationship with God, is just that - their relationship.  I have nothing to do with it, outside of praying for Ron every day.  

But, oh, I get tired. 

I did find it ironic.  Ron kept yelling at God, saying he wanted God to take me so "I can have a better life, and a better woman, not this stupid fat bitch". 

Better be careful about that, I thought.  God has a way of answering those things.  I don't plan to leave but God could very well take me. 




Butt Soda Explosion

Youtube, apparently hates my video camera, the microphone, or both.  Hecho en Chine. 

I did not sleep well last night, I barely had the energy for a shower this morning.  I staggered off to the store, Ron and the rolling ice chest in tow. 

The "shop" was pretty unexceptional.  They were out of Sprite, again.   When I was a kid, I used to love Sprite.  Sorry,  customers, I tried. 

My cashier took her sweet time ringing me up, but she was accurate and didn't abuse the merchandise.  A gay cart attendant helped me load the truck. 

I don't care who he sleeps with, he did a good job.  I later dealt with a gay customer.  It was just my day for the gay, black, man.  They walked away happy, so I guess I did a good job. 

We got to work.  Ron was whining about being thirsty.  I finally told him "Look, I'm the one unloading this truck, and you want a cold soda?"  He said he wanted it anyway.  He told me later he had eaten some very salty chicken last night (something from the Walmart deli). 

I tie the two handcarts together, like a train.  Then I strap the folding handcart across the top of both, with tie-downs, making a large and unwieldy beast. 

I couldn't hold a soda, and it would have fallen off the cart, so I stuck one in each of my back pockets, mine (Diet Dr) and his (Gingerale).  As I came out the door, the cart got stuck, and I yanked it.  The cart slammed into my butt, and my can exploded all over my butt. 

Happily, it was sugarfree, and it was so hot the fabric dried pretty quick. 

I gave Ron his soda, telling him "This is the last time".  He pouted a bit but enjoyed drinking it down. 

I unloaded the truck, with his help.  He gets into the truck bed and pushes the lighter stuff to me.

I loaded all 3 carts, got them in the building, and got Ron into the building too.  Our driver left.

It was interesting.  He was mentioning having some leg pain, recently.  He is diabetic.  Today he mentioned having orange juice for breakfast.

I want to tell him to get a nerve conduction test for neuropathy, but is it my business?  He's the kind of guy who just takes whatever doc gives him, up to 10 prescriptions already.  The popular medication used for neuropathy might render him an unsafe driver.

I need to think about that for a few days, and talk to Ron.

I had mentioned, in front of the driver, how Ron hadn't complained yesterday, and how I'd mentioned I "wanted to keep him" in my blog.  Ron looked very taken aback.

Funny, the comments that end up impactful.

We got to work.  It was pretty uneventful.  They REALLY like what I'm doing in the snack department.  I made a lot of change.

One guy came up to me, sputtering with rage.  I took one look at him and directed him to Ron (Ron wants me to do this).  I saw him gesturing and exclaiming loudly.

Last week, we had asked him if he might be interested in driving for us.
On Saturday.
We would call first.
As-needed, not right now.

He misunderstood and apparently went to 2 different Sam's clubs, before they even opened, looking for us - on a Sunday.  That was awkward.  We never told him to do that. 

"I think" I told Ron after he left "You should proceed as though he has an audio processing issue."  Ron agreed.

One woman was off in a corner, pointing at me and yelling "Toxic".  I just ignored her.

She came over and picked up my box of donuts.  They come 12 packs to a case.  She was looking all over the box, and caressing it with her hands.

Her body language clearly said "I want to eat every last donut".   She, however, was raving about "toxic food".

I looked at her and smiled brightly "I sell two cases a week." 

What???

"People love them.  I'd have hell to pay if I didn't stock them."

You need to...

"Whenever we put out 'healthy food' it just rots in the machine.  These will be gone in 2 days.  People here are grown and can make their own choices."  She sputtered a little, but the box down, and left.

I made sure to present bright an cheerful, as she was likely looking for a confrontation with the evil vendor.  I like to defy expectation.  I couldn't have been nicer.

Well, I could have been if I'd given her a donut.  But I don't give away the store. 

I helped Ron, got all the "leftovers" put up, and helped Ron pull change.  I put all the carts away and we left. 

We had to wait about 20 minutes, but other than that it was good.  I was so tired I almost fell asleep on the way home.  When we did get home, I crawled into bed for a short nap. 

God only knows what the rest of the day, will hold. 




Friday, August 28, 2015

I sure liked him

"That's not suspicious at all" I sniped, as the customer in front of us finally left.  She'd attempted to use a debit card without knowing the pin number.  She must have "borrowed" it, at one point she was asked if she had used it in a successful transaction and said "It's not mi-" before stopping herself. 

That was yesterday, at Walmart.  I forgot to mention that. 

The cats are good, Gravy just came by to say hello.  They've been wanting more canned food, which I'm happy to provide. 

Nausea is still pretty bad.  I think the aspirin I'm taking for my headaches irritates my stomach, and the meds come along and aggravate it.  I'm chugging a lot of pepto. 

I read recently I can cook lentils in a rice cooker.  I have a rice cooker.  I'm thinking it might be interesting to try cooking lentils + rice in the cooker, on a timer.  That, I can do.  It won't hurt the lentils to soak a bit, either. 

I plan to try, at least. 

We went to the bank today, we did a one-way on paratransit.  The goal was to ride the bus home. 

"I'm going to be positive today" he told me "And not complain."  I was shocked.  Did someone call him?  

Ron wanted to buy a fannypack from the mall, which we did.  Then he wanted Taco Bell.  I remembered it on Greenspoint drive somewhere around Benmar.  After about a mile of pushing, literally, Ron in the wheelchair, still not complaining, I couldn't find it. 

The bus company and the mall company landscaped the whole area around the transit center, which included putting in a huge, impenetrable, hedge, right before you get to the Beltway.  I literally could not find the store. 

I apologized to Ron (still not complaining), turned around, and took him to Jack in the Box.  Last week, I had some trouble with mud on the north side of Greens road.  Now it was thick sand.  It made for hard pushing, let me tell you! 

I took a page out of Ron's book and didn't complain, not that I would have, anyway. 

We went in the store.  Ron doesn't like to eat in public for various reasons.  Not usually, at any rate. 

I got a sourdough Jack and curly fries.  They were as good as Arby's, and that's saying a lot!  I was really impressed.  "Jack really stepped up his game" I mumbled, around a mouthful of burger.  "Good" Ron said tenderly "I'm glad you like it". 

I don't know which Ron I got today but I sure liked him. 

We ate.  Ron didn't want to take the bus home.  He did complain a little talking about it.  He decided to call someone to give us a ride, for pay. 

He did that. 

Ron got a little annoyed at one point, when I helped a disabled old man get a soda.  "Ron" I told him "He saw me helping you.  He accurately figured I would help him, too."  I didn't mind.  He was nice and said thank you. 

Our ride came.  Ron whined a little about missing Taco Bell.  Our driver took us there.  I literally missed it by 100 feet.  I was pretty embarrassed, but if they didn't have the big hedge, I'd have seen it. 

Ooops.  We got our driver some food, and Ron did eat a burrito.  He got a couple more to go. 

We went home, put away the food and wheelchair, and I took a nap for a couple hours.  I had a really strange nightmare and was happy to wake up. 

I went in Ron's room to find him lying in bed with my cat curled up at his side.  I'm not sure which one's the traitor, or both.  Both, I think. 

I did my God Time (got my shower this morning but missed God), and Torbie came and visited.  She has a set of needle-sharp claws on her, let me tell you.  She likes to give "the massage" complete with digging said claws into my flesh.  Ouch.  I petted her, she purred, I hung out with God. 

Jesus said "Where two or more are gathered", I always like to think of Him sitting there petting Torbie, too. 

We finished up and I got online.  Tomorrow is truck day.  It is my hope to clean off "my" counter in the kitchen and make room for my rice cooker. 

For whatever reason, meat tends to make me nauseous these days. 

Thursday, August 27, 2015

The last stop on Veteran's

We were supposed to work last night; but Ron decided he would rather stay home and drink.  No one knew of our plan. 

I thought it would be fun for the night shift to see us for a change.  Yes, probably a little drama but overall fun, I thought.  It's good for the customers to see us working.  They like to know we work to provide their snacks, and their snacks make a living for us, too. 

I thought it would be best to keep Ron busy, so we went to Walmart in the morning.  We didn't have very long but it got us out of the house.  I let him know I was still significantly depressed, and he knows it's better to keep me busy. 

I got my shower, and God time, both days, so yay me.  I even stripped the bed and washed the sheets and bedspread. 

For me, that's monumental. 

Ron "tries" to start drinking after 12, but not on his day off.  He'll start the minute he gets up on our day off.  However, we were working, right? 

I will admit the idea appealed - if we worked, Ron "couldn't" drink until after we got home that night.  He decided he would rather cancel work. 

I wish I could say I was surprised. 

I did decide, after a short nap and horrific nausea, I didn't have to stay home and watch him do it.  So I went out on the bus. 

They have a Giant Dollar on Veteran's.  My local bus goes on Veteran's, now.  The former Giant Dollar lived a couple miles up the street and had an amazing selection.  I was pretty eager to check it out. 

It was hugely disappointing. 

I have problems with traffic.  Anxiety at the best of times, and outright panic attacks at my worst.  God is good, though, I only had a panic attack, once, on a Bible Handout, and Ron was with me.  It was a pretty unsafe (not the area, the traffic) area, anyway, and I never went back. 

In regular life, my anxiety issues are variable and dependent on the street, and my caffeine intake.  I had thought I could "run across Veteran's at the light" because they had a pedestrian crosswalk and light. 

As I stood by the street, waiting for the light to change, I kept thinking, "I've seen 3 people hit by cars, and two of them were on Veteran's".  It was a horrific sight, the first, a woman rolling on the ground, holding her clearly-broken leg, the second just a bloody shoe lying in the road as they loaded the guy on the stretcher.  And Ron of course.  I told God I was sorry, I felt like a failure doing it, but I was going to back track to the last stop on Veteran's and ride the bus across. 

See, my bus goes down Veterans.  I got off at the last stop, before it turns left and crosses the street, going down Gears.  The "fun" Vietnamese grocery store is on Gears.  After my disappointment, I at least wanted to get some tea. 

I doubled back to the last bus stop on Veterans and "my" bus came along about 3 minutes later.  Excellent.  Leaving home, I'd literally seen the bus I had missed, and waited 20 minutes on the next one.

I felt God had just validated my decision.  Some things, I just can't do.

Some things, just aren't smart to do!   I disembarked and crossed Gears (it was nearly as busy, and just as wide, but I felt far more comfortable). 

I crossed the parking lot and headed into the store.  I know they are in a bad area, and experience a lot of shoplifting.  I had one of my shoulder totes, with some merchandise from the Dollar store.  I didn't want to make them uncomfortable, so I offered to leave my bag at a register.  They laughed and waved me past. 

I got profiled.  :p  I had fun looking at the vegetables (I didn't have an insulated bag, and it's been in the high 90's with sun, so no way to do that), and fruit.  I bought some "French Cookies" that, not only were individually wrapped, were absolutely divine (and very reasonably priced).  I was thrilled when I tried them. 

I looked at the rice and got some "Black Sweet Rice".  It is apparently a dessert rice.  I bet it would be really good in my rice cooker with a little dried fruit. 

I also got a box of FooJoy decaf green tea.  I like how they wrap the 100 count into 3 separate packages, inside the cardboard. 

I've been having some palpitations and I figure decaf is the way to go.  I told Ron about it, and also said, I don't want us to spend a lot of money checking it out.  The way I figure, I'm crazy.  I have anxiety issues, 98% odds it is psychiatric in nature.  He agreed. 

I am not concerned, because I have "the problem" when I am at rest.  If I'm working, unloading a truck, or today, loading 10 cases of bottled drinks on and off a cart, into and out of a fridge, a lot of heavy lifting in a very short period of time, with no problem.  It's not happening on exertion.  So I have chosen not to worry about it. 

Palpitations can also be a side effect of my medication.  Like I said, I don't want to undergo a lot of testing only to be told "It's all in your pills".  I'm not stopping my lithium. 

I paid and came home.  I really like how they expanded my bus route. 

Ron had agreed to work early today, so we did that.  We had a lot of catching up, having left it a day longer than I like.  At one point Ron said God had given him a "Bad helper" because I couldn't help him on demand - my hands were full. 

I did get all my work done and helped him significantly with his. 

For instance, with the canned sodas Ron can feel the interior of the machine and determine what needs stocking.  Each machine has 8-10 columns.  We have everything stacked in sequence so he can find the sodas on his own (!).  He will load them into his lap (he uses a wheelchair at work) and then stocks from the wheelchair. 

The bottled drinks are trickier.  We don't have space for them, so they live on carts and on shelves in our tiny stockroom.  Ron can get drinks out of the fridge, he has them in a sequence. 

I, however, have to get the replacement drinks, and put them into the fridge. 

I did this: I looked at the bottled machine while he did canned soda.  I saw he needed about 10 cases.  I got my handcart (empty, now that I'd finished snacks).  I went and got the warm replacement drinks, before heading out to the fridge (why make 2 trips?). 

I put the warm drinks on the floor, and loaded the cold drinks on the cart.  Then I placed the warm drinks into the fridge.  This is why I say, if I had a bona fide heart problem, I'd know. 

I then dragged the cart over to Ron, who had just opened the bottled vendor.  He was panicking over all the stocking until I presented him with the cartload of cold soda. 

I was the most wonderful woman in the world, after that.  He was so glad he'd married me.  [giggle]  Well, I like to help when I can. 

However, no one's ever called in a complaint over an empty soda machine.  They get VERY upset about snacks, though. 

We were both happy, when we left.  We went home and took a nap.  Then we went to Walmart. 

I forgot to buy my timer.  Dang it.  The kind you plug into the wall, it will turn on your electronic device at a certain time.

I did get a few other things.  Ron would like me to try some split pea soup, when the weather gets colder.   I left the store happy.

Ron paid for my items.  I wasn't expecting that. 

I guess he was still happy I "saved" him earlier.






Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Flaming Hoops

I didn't sleep well last night.  Probably a combination of neuro-wierdness and too many caffeinated painkillers. 

I woke up around 4.  Ron was awake.  I told him I really didn't feel like going to Walmart (now that's a statement).  He agreed and cancelled the trip. 

I went back to bed and woke up around 7:30.  I did my God Time, ate, and watched some TV.  I wrote a blog, I talked to my aunt on the phone.  I took a nap.  When I woke up, Ron was up. 

I was treated to quite the spectacle.  Ron chugging on a huge bottle of whiskey (I think), holding it in his mouth for a while, and then spitting it into a cup full of ice. 

Years ago, I made the mistake of telling him most alcohol is absorbed through the mouth.  He had me do research, and I told him.  On the plus side, he never has any gum disease issues, like I do. 

He accepts it when I tell him his "two sips" (two mouthfuls he means) really equal eight ounces (it measures that on the plastic cup), and nearly FOUR "drinks".  He continues. 

He called some old friends while I did some work in the bedroom.  They kept asking him if he was drunk, how much was he drinking, stuff like that.  He slurred he was perfectly sober. 

If you're lying to your friends about your drinking...

I don't ask, or monitor, per AA suggestions.  I don't panic, either.  I just asked him if he could move over so I could get at the sink. 

He went back to bed, I did my work in the bedroom, and hung out on one of my favorite message boards. 

When I called Walmart about a Handout, they told me (store manager said) I would have to come in, meet with the personnel manager, fill out some paperwork, file something with the City, etc. 

Why do I have to file something with the city? 

I explained, again, I am not seeking money.  I simply want to distribute Bibles to the willing. 

Sorry, he told me, same rules for everyone. 

Now I am faced with the question: do I jump through these flaming hoops?  Or do I focus on the ghetto/prostitutes, etc? 

Good question.

Why didn't he stay dead?

First of all, I'm going to share some assumptions I have, about you. 

You are an intelligent person.  You are a compassionate person. 

However, I may have the odd reader, who's neither.  This post is for you.  The "quality" can shake your heads at this, with me. 

We have televisions at work.  If you live in America, you know the personal injury lawyers aggressively advocate in television commercials, for clients.  They talk about the big settlements they've won for their clients, and how they'll get one for you, too. 

Wouldn't that be nice? 

As you probably know, my husband was run over by a careless driver, about 13 years ago.  He sustained many severe injuries, died at the scene, and was eventually revived.  He has lifelong damage as a result of his accident. 

Texas law is strict: if you injure someone, they cannot go after your personal income, or home.  They can really only go after your insurance company.  If you have minimal insurance, they get a minimal settlement. 

Ron suffered lifelong damage; and racked up over half a million in medical bills.  The driver's insurance company admitted fault, and settled with our lawyer, as follows: 1.  Hospital got 10K, instead of the half a million.  2.  The lawyer got 40% (standard), which was 8K.  We got the remaining two thousand. 

"You just had a bad lawyer" we are told again and again.  "You screwed up.  You should have gotten the big settlement but you screwed up.  You and your loser lawyer..." 

First of all, realize you are attacking people who have suffered nearly the worst trauma, imaginable.  As a result, one of them is in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.  You want to attack him?  Really? 

I have lawyers in my family.  Three of them.  One went to Yale. 

That's not even counting my niece, in law school.  Point is, I asked. 

Ron called in to a show and spoke with a lawyer, who basically said "Yeah, that sucks, nothing you can do".

Let's talk about the witness.  There was a witness to the accident, a commercial truck driver, who told Ron it was "Safe to go".  When work found out we were looking for him, they closed ranks and played dumb.  "What driver?  We dunno no driver."  We weren't trying to put the guy in prison. 

Had we "caught" him - his insurance might have given us a decent settlement.  As it is, I'm pretty sure I met his little boy one day on one of my runs.  The driver knew we were looking for him, and more importantly, our lawyer was looking for him. 

The investigating officer lied on the report, because he stole Ron's cash, a significant amount, enough to pay for a couple of deliveries and our rent.  His accident had no witness, just a driver, and Ron walking backwards into the street, going away from work, instead of to.  Ron was going TO work, I assure you. 

We lived in a duplex development, about 50 houses.  It was close to work.  I would run up and down the street. 

Anyway, one day this young boy comes out and stands in front of me.  I go around, he follows me, yelling "Why is your husband alive?" 

I told him Ron got good medical care, and God decided it wasn't his time to die yet. 

The boy kept pestering me, asking why Ron wasn't dead, getting progressively more angry about it, finally shouting "My Daddy said he fell down like he was dead, after he got hit!  Why didn't he stay dead!?"  That's why I assume the boy's father must have been the truck driver.  Only a witness could describe that, and we only had one witness.  Only the son of the witness, hearing his father's concerns about a lawsuit (which would have been covered by insurance, anyway - if he lived in a rented duplex he didn't have any assets, anyway), would be so angry Ron had lived to sue. 

I hope the driver has nightmares about it.

Those kids over there were messed up.  Some of them got angry because I worried about the toddlers left unattended to wander in the street.  Having just seen the aftermath of an auto vs pedestrian, I knew they would be killed if someone hit them, even at a low speed.  The parents didn't care and eventually ended up poisoning my cat, Baby Girl the First, when I alerted CPS.

Confidential my ass.  They told the parents exactly who reported them, one of the mothers told me the day she threatened to beat me up.  I told her go ahead, that'll look real good to CPS, wouldn't it?  She did try to run me over but I jumped a curb.

A couple days later, I found her toddler, wandering in the street, 3 blocks from home.  I took his hand and brought him right back.  I was about halfway, and the kid behind a car, when I heard the father panicking, realizing his son (who looked just like him) was missing.  I yelled "Over here, I found him on my run."

When he got over, frantic, and panting, I looked him in the eyes and said "This is what I'm talking about."  

It stuck for a couple days and then it was back to babies wandering in the street with their push toys.  Agh.  Some of them couldn't even walk yet. 

Then I had little kids, and older kids, coming up to me and "telling" my cat got on the roof.  I told them I didn't care.  "Yeah," one said "I didn't think he would do that.  I was throwing rocks at him and..." 

I took a long, slow, look at him.  "You were doing what?" 

"Throwing rocks at your cat." He replied cheerfully.  Doesn't everyone? 

Thank God I am out of there. 


Monday, August 24, 2015

Code 2

"This is going to be really funny" I moaned "When I put this on my blog." 

I woke up with a migraine.  Vicious, excruciating, bitch of a migraine.  At that point, I could take my generic headache pills, so I did, noting the time.  I washed them down with a very cold diet soda. 

I figured God would understand if I waited on my God Time.  Still haven't got there yet. 

I did take a shower, hoping the heat would help.  It didn't, much. 

We went to work.  The migraine progressed.  I almost fell on the floor in agony when Ron asked me to bring him a case of soda.  I "made" him get his own drinks after that.  I verbally directed him. 

I was unhappy to see a request for "The hot, fresh, cafeteria food we were promised".  You have microwaves.  You have 10 restaurants within a mile of the plant.  No one ever promised a deli.  The former plant manager (for a reason), said "I will try to see about getting some hot food in here".  That is very different from promising, but people hear what they want to hear.  It's just upsetting. 

The damned deli put Ron in a wheelchair.  That's not enough?  When we mention hot food sales are not profitable, people get very nasty and basically say they don't care if we lose everything, they want a hot dog. 

The complaint was written on a rainy night - and that's the other thing.  People only used the deli during inclement weather.  Most people didn't even know we had closed the deli until a month later, when a heavy rain front came through and they went running off to the cafeteria for dinner.  It is impossible to keep perishable foods, and trained workers, in stasis, waiting for that bad weather or call to overtime, and then suddenly flip them on to provide instant service.

It's like the guy who yelled at me, one day, because we were "out of milk".  I told him we hadn't sold it in two years. 

"That's not true" he said "I just saw it a week ago."  I assured him we had cancelled our contract with the milk company over two years ago.  "Has it been that long?"  He murmured "Really?"

At the end of the day, you have to remember 98% of my customers are bringing their own lunch.  I barely sell 45 sandwiches a week.  

Let's take one last look at the "hot and fresh".  If we did it, and we won't, we would be putting a precooked meat patty in the microwave and microwaving it.  How is that hot or fresh? 

We had one guy from downtown, who kept bugging us endlessly, for an ice cream vending machine.  We got rid of those 13 years ago because they were unprofitable, and ripped people off.  I made more in one day on a snack, soda, or food machine - a single machine, than we made on both ice cream machines, in a month.  Why would we waste an outlet?  We only have room for 9 machines, they all need to be producers.  Anyway, one day he caught up to me and I explained, he finally left it alone.

I took another dose of pain relievers 4 hours after the first.  

Anyway, upsetting.  The devil knows how to poke me; this is one way.  I really need to get some personal reassurance from our guy in Austin that they are not going to force us into reopening the deli. 

When we left, all the machines looked good.  I was happy with that. 

Our driver came early.  We had a younger woman in an electric wheelchair, wearing a short skirt, exposing flabby thighs.  Really, gals, it's not a good look.  I don't know about you, but I'd much rather have a man looking at my face, than my crotch.  Unfortunately I was positioned for the optimal view. 

Sometimes I wonder what Ron would say, if he could see.  I think he would have said something she would have taken as "offensive", and caused a scene.  Not that he would be a pig, but he would say "Why are you showing your crotch?  Don't you have any pride?  Is that all you are, a crotch?"  Ensue mayhem. 

She was all dressed up - going to Walmart.  The special Walmart, because that was the only one good enough for her.  Well. 

We had another pickup, first.  Unfortunately for me, she was an older lady, and drenched in "Pleasures" cologne - which is supposedly "Flowers covered in rain".  I kept gagging on it, the perfume and the migraine clashing in a horrible symphony, within my head.

We dropped off "Mostly naked" (I forgot to mention the low cut blouse) at Walmart, and then a long journey to drop the senior at her dentist.  Finally, done.  The second she got off I started opening windows.

The driver, and trainee, asked me why.  I told them to shut the door.  [I didn't want the old lady to overhear.]  They didn't, and left the door open, with the perfume wafting back into the van as the old lady hobbled down the sidewalk. 

I would so, rather smell BO, than heavy perfume. 

They finally shut the door.  They didn't understand me at first, when I said I had a terrible migraine and was about to vomit.  I had to say "I'm about to have a Code 2 all over the floor of this van". 

Code 2 is "Client got sick"

The driver said "What?"

"I'm about to puke!"

"Oh, you want some BBQ!   Where is it?  I love me some good ribs...."

"No!" I pleaded loudly "I am about to vomit!  Please shut up about food!"   They gaped at me. 

"Can we go home now before I lose it?"  Oh!  They finally started up the van and drove.  This is when I told Ron, it would be pretty funny one day. 

"I don't want no Code 2 on MY van!" 

We got home.  I didn't vomit (then), and went to bed. 

I got up.  I tried to take an alka-seltzer.  I did vomit. 

In fact, I called the boys (cats).  The last time I got sick they found it an enthralling experience. 

I grabbed my bucket and sat on the edge of the bed, panting, saliva filling my mouth, the boys at my side.  They watched eagerly as I gasped, heaved, and finally produced a quart or so of yellow-green bile.  They weren't interested in investigating, but I believe looked at me with great sympathy.  I petted them and told them they were good boys. 

I cleaned out the bucket and washed it.  I have a specially designated bucket. 

I waited about an hour and tried some ice water, which worked OK. 

For obvious reasons, Ron gave me tomorrow off.  Besides, the machines should be fine tomorrow. 

God knows I filled them. 

Sunday, August 23, 2015

New Guy

Number 6 has been OK.  They still run their sprinkler every night, against my siding, but I'm not having the hysterics I was, a few years ago.  The way I figure, their dog probably peed on my siding, a lot, and it could use a good wash. 

If they aren't back to school yet it starts Monday.  I'm sleeping, that's all I care about. 

Number 2 may be breaking his lease, though.  I saw a man "visiting" on Monday.  I didn't really pay attention.  I noticed a new car in the driveway.  They have 3 drivers but 4 cars?  I wasn't sure about that, either.  I did see the new guy around for a few days, though. 

When we come home, we round a corner and go down the street.  #2's on the corner. 

We cane home and, as we turned the corner, I got a look at the New Guy.  He was literally looking down his nose at us, sneering, with a condescending expression. 

I shook my head, as we pulled into our driveway.  He went into the house. 

I had to tell Ron about it, and we had a good laugh.  A guy who's illegally subletting a room from renters, is sneering at homeowners.  "Who's the loser?" Ron yelled in the direction of their house (from inside ours).   We may not have a car, but I'd rather have a home, thanks. 

If we have issues (we haven't, yet), we can contact the landlady.  I'm certain they are breaking their lease, moving this guy in.  It's possible he's visiting but it's been a week, and I've never seen him before. 

I'm also pretty sure I saw him taking a dialysis bag out of his car the other night.  People on dialysis take a whole bag of crap with them, to the treatment.  Apparently the centers are too cheap to provide a warm blanket during treatment. 

Why would a guy, living in a house for a week already, be moving a small rolling suitcase, while looking very fatigued?  I could be wrong but I'll watch.  It should be easy to figure out. 

He is quiet.  He stays out of the yard.  He doesn't have any pets and, as far as I can tell, is leaving mine alone. 

I guess he can stay :p   He doesn't strike me as the kind of guy to strike fear into the landlady, either.  If it was a young, partying, hard-drinking, guy - I might worry.  But this guy seems pretty placid except for that attitude. 

I can't believe I'm that upset. 

Anyway.  Depressed yesterday, but still had to work.  I need to see if I did a blog on yesterday.  Yes, I did.

Woke up today, went to Walmart.  Now, that was fun.  We have a local church, a few miles away.  The pastor preaches works-based salvation (bad), prosperity gospel (tickle God and He will give you money), and mandatory tithing.

It is good to donate to ministry.  However, I donate to non-church ministries with strict accountability.  Gospel For Asia, World Missionary Press, and Voice of the Martyrs (I don't agree with some of the politics but Bible Smuggling is always awesome in my book).  Ron has a few things he does, as well.

That's not even counting what I spend on Bibles.  I am always spending "my own" money on Bibles.  I'm not playing, I'm so holy, just making the point I do "give to the Lord".

The church.  The pastor also flies around in a helicopter, and when riding in a vehicle, rides in a stretch SUV "Pimp Daddy" obscenity.  Can you imagine the gas bill for either?  Much less paying the driver?  It is wasteful and terrible stewardship.  The building is a huge palace, and I'd hate to see the utilities. 

One of my favorite churches is housed in a converted warehouse.  It's lovely, but very affordable and excellent stewardship. 

You can tell I don't like these guys.  I liked them even less when I found them begging outside Walmart.  They were so smug and pushy.  I just wanted to scream at them, and go Old Testament on their asses.  "God's going to rebuke you!  Bad stewards!  Shame on you!  Stealing in Jesus' name!  No, ma'am, don't give him any money!"

But, it planted a seed.  I could go on at some length about my anger, and how it took 2 people to talk me out of embarrassing myself (and more importantly, Jesus).  But I couldn't help but think - they were permitted.  

I plan to talk to the store manager (who I know) and see if I can get permission to do a Bible Handout "I don't want your money".  NO jar, no "donations", just a whole lot of Bibles and "Praying for you daily!"

We shall see.  If God wills it, it will happen.

If I get permission, I will need a table, transportation, and a couple hundred more Bibles.  This could easily clean me out in one day.  It's all up to God.

But He does know how to poke me into action.   


Saturday, August 22, 2015

I'm tired

What a day. 

Last night, I slept fine, when I fell asleep. 

I woke up exhausted, told God He knew He was my favorite deity, I would catch Him later, and went back to sleep.  I took my shower and dressed in my hot weather heavy labor gear - sport bra, microfiber "wicking" t-shirt, and my bermuda shorts.  Quarter crew socks, and my slip on steel toed loafers completed the outfit. 

Out to the door.  The shopping trip was fairly uneventful.  They did have my customer's favorite cookie - a vanilla sandwich cookie, in a tube - they get several cookies for my price of 75 cents.  I pay a reasonable food cost.  I bought 5 cases.  They'll be gone in a week. 

They were out of black tea in the bottles, not great but we'll live.  God knows they love the green tea! 

Our guy came and got us, we loaded the truck off down the road.  I yelled his name as I saw the dog in the road, but it was too late. 

I could hear, and feel, the truck going over the poor thing at probably 40 mph.  Our driver said it got up and ran off. 

He wanted to go back to check on it.  I had horrible, selfish, visions of a yapping, dying, crying, snapping, creature in agony.  I begged God, please let it be dead or don't let us find it.  I begged silently, of course. 

He went back around, parked, and looked all over.  He couldn't find it.   Praise God, I thought quietly. 

I do realize now I really did save Biscuit and Gravy.  They had no street smarts when I adopted them.  They would have been dead in hours, assuming that woman didn't "get rid of them" as she'd sworn she'd do.   

We resumed our journey.  I couldn't help but wonder if it had sounded that way when Ron got run over, the same thumping up against the undercarriage. 

I doubt it, however, as our driver talked to a witness - who said Ron "bounced".  Now, there's a horrible vision.  Ron did destroy the truck in the process. 

On that hideous, depressing, note, we got to work.  It was sunny, hellishly hot, and humid. 

After I finished unloading, I told Ron "This is probably the most awful unload I've done all year".  He stopped complaining after that.  He had been whining about sitting out in the heat.  I think he forgot I had a far worse job! 

I got into work, stocked, and had a horrific time getting everything stuffed into the stockroom.  I managed, barely.  It helped that Ron needed some large-case items. 

We left - right as it started raining.  Ron had a lot of very bitter commentary, for God, about that.  I've learned to just leave him be. 

We had a really nice driver; he kept teasing Ron that he was only there for me, Ron had to wait for another vehicle.  [grin]  He really cheered us up.  He liked the Bible I gave him, too. 

We got home, I took a nap.  I got up and did most of my God time, then we went out to dinner with our driver.  He loves dogs and was pretty upset about it.  It was small and cute, he just watched a small, cute, dog - and got very attached.  He had to relate the two, I'm sure. 

Anyway, dinner perked him up.  He seemed to like it pretty well. 

Ron was angry because I wouldn't get him a beer.  I think he assumed if he ordered me to get one, I would do so to avoid conflict in front of the other guy.  I told him "You know I won't do that".  Ron objected, "This has been my policy for years."  The other guy got it for him. 

I told Ron I would take him to the cooler and he could get his own beer, next time but I'm not getting him alcohol.  Between us, I have had it of lying in my bed, listening to blistering verbal abuse as he falls on the floor again, kicking myself because I helped him get the alcohol that has made him such a monster.  No more. 

I decided I am going to take a couple inches off my hair.  Part of it is down to my waist.  It gets caught on things, and gets in the way when I'm working.  Not to mention, bedbugs and head lice everywhere - and they love long hair. 

We came home. 

Recently, I have been in several near-miss traffic accidents.  If I knew I would die tomorrow what would I say?   Would I have regrets? 

No regrets, honestly.  My sins are forgiven and I did pretty much everything I wanted to do. 

I did a hell of a lot more than anyone expected, myself included. 

My aunt already told me she'd find someone to take my cats. 

I don't have any nasty secrets, needing to be swept away. 

But, I'm tired.  When God comes for me, I am not going to fight it. 

I'm not going to seek it, either. 

Friday, August 21, 2015

Can't wait to get manic

I'll do a longer blog tomorrow. 

Both Ron and I were pretty depressed today, barely made it to work.  I had a good time with the customers but otherwise exhausted. 

We came home, I took a nap.  Torbie had a lot of fun pawing at my face, with claws extended.  I hope I don't get an infection.  When I got up I did my God Time and got online for a bit. 

I did bathe, do my God time, and work.  I probably need to clean the litter boxes.  Everyone has been fed and watered, including Ron. 

Ron once swore he would never drink before 12.  He has consistently broken that rule at every opportunity.  If I were "trying" to keep him sober I'd keep him out of the house all day. 

Anyway: depressed.  Can't wait to get manic. 

Thursday, August 20, 2015

Watching Ron Drink

Today was pretty mixed.  I slept in, it rained... heavily.  We had some minor flooding. 

I did my God Time and decided I didn't want to sit around the house, watching Ron drink.  Last week was just horrific

The bus system is free this week, as they've made huge changes.  My local bus now goes from the mall (several miles past the former end of the line), to downtown, past all my Bible Handout locations. 

It also connects to:
Airport bus/downtown
Work bus/NE Houston (might be good for a Handout at some point)
Airline bus/medical center
1960 bus (1960 is a huge shopping area, you can find everything from acupuncture to Half Price Books). 

However, how does it connect?  I need to know.  If I am in crisis, Ron's kept me up all night, and I'm going to work, I need to know where to wait on my bus! 

The rain came down. 

The last time I wore sneakers on a day like today, I ended up with moldy shoes.  I took out the insoles and lifted up the tongues, but I couldn't get them dry.  They had a nasty, moldy, stench.  I only wore them on rainy days, which really made them awful.  I finally threw them away, saying "I'm not that poor". 

Now, if I had a regular day out with Ron, not on the bus, not a lot of walking, I'd wear my plastic sandals or flip-flops.  Plastic sandals cut into my feet, after I've walked about a half mile, though.  I have a slightly odd gait, knock-kneed, which may factor. 

In order of price, I have: some dressy sandals I wore to a wedding, work boots, slip on steel toed loafers, cheap sneakers I use for Bible Handouts and dry days on the bus, flip flops, and the plastic sandals.  I have just shared my entire shoe wardrobe.  

What to wear?  I didn't want to ruin the sneakers, the "obvious" choice.  I opted for the plastic sandals, with a pair of socks. 

I probably violated a million fashion rules (they were fake crocs), but it worked on Sunday, so I tried it today.  It worked.  The socks got wet, but they didn't chafe.  I had other issues, though. 

I got my purple umbrella and headed out the door.  I was glad I didn't have my stun gun, as I could only imagine what'd happen if it shorted out. 

I felt very odd leaving without my bus pass, but free rides this week. 

I headed out, admiring all the wild purslane along the way.  It's an edible weed.  I had planned to nibble some in my driveway but the yard man got to it first.  I considered having a nibble en route, but abstained. 

I got to the stop and waited about 10 minutes.  The driver came, I boarded.  She asked me how long I'd waited.  I rode all the way to the end of the line, the transit center. 

I had envisioned bus stops on both sides of the street.  Nope, just one side.  The "end of the line layover stop" for my route was right next to the work route departure location.  What about going to 1960, and how the hell do I get home now? 

I figured it all out, took about 5 minutes, the rain gushing away.  I went over to McDonald's.  I was already depressed, having to work in the rain didn't help, and I didn't want to just come home after that.  Besides, I needed to see if they had my bus stop on the west bound side of the connecting street.   I also considered possible attendance at the flea market, which turned out to be closed. 

I went over to McDonald's.  I called Ron, who seemed much brighter, more alert, and sober.  "I always worry about you, when you go out" he told me.  "I don't want something to happen to you." 

Ron told me he wanted a burger.  I bought it, a drink (the brix was terrible), and some chicken nuggets.  I took my pills because that's what I do. 

I left. 

The ground was very slippery, and I lost my footing, twice, while walking over painted lines in the parking lot.  Thank God I did not break my neck/arm/back. 

I did pull a muscle, which ached for a while. 

I went to the westbound area of the street.  Sure enough, my bus stop.  Not so good, it went downtown. 

I was 90% back to the transit center when I realized I wanted the downtown bus!  I felt so stupid! 

I also realized the Greens road sidewalk is pretty un-navigable in the rain; worth noting.  The transit center area was well-kept, except for some low-hanging branches. 

I got back to the bus stop and waited about 20 minutes.  I must have just missed it. 

An old white guy with BO; thick, yellow fingernails; and dirty hair kept bugging me until I called my aunt.  He was a very lonely man. 

That's why a lot of women hate to ride the bus.  It came, I boarded, still feeling like a sneak because I didn't pay.  By the time I get used to this, I'll have to pay, again. 

I talked to my aunt.  Like I said, she's the one, supportive, person in my phone book. 

We got home pretty fast.  The rain kept pretty much everyone, home. 

I got off the bus, deciding to eat the first purslane I saw.  And my neighbor pulled up. 

At first, when I saw the SUV pulling over, I thought "Get away from me, you freak!" but then I saw it was her.  She gave me a ride once, years ago, when we both happened to be leaving at the same time. 

She is very sweet.  She was absolutely horrified I have to walk to and from the bus stop, six blocks, every time.  I told her it was good exercise, I can only have one person in a wheelchair at my house.  There's a language barrier but she laughed. 

She was embarrassed the vehicle was cluttered.  I didn't care.  I was dry.  I rode in a car once, with roaches all over the floorboard.  It takes a lot to upset me. 

I am also certain her home is far better kept than mine.  

I got out, feeling (still) very odd with paranoid oddities running around in my head.  Poor woman, if she had any idea she never would have let me sit right next to her baby. 

I basically told myself: so they have loud parties on occasion, time to suck it up!  I'm not going to work myself into agitation over the next one (by my estimation, at least 5 weeks). 

So, no purslane today.  I tried. 

I came in, gave Ron his burger (he liked it) and took a nap.

I woke up.  He's feeling chatty so he called everyone he could think of.  Most are "busy".  He did talk to at least one person, though, which made him happy.

Happily, the rain has stopped.  I hope it stays dry until we get home tomorrow.  



Wednesday, August 19, 2015

God is my family

God has been my steadfast; my whole life. 

When I lay in my crib, neglected, filthy, and starving, He was there.  When my Dad remarried, He was there.  When my knight in shining armor turned out to be a cheating alcoholic, God was there (Ron cheated, more than once, in the years we lived together before our marriage). 

My family has been a disappointment: I wanted my Dad to be more cuddly and sensitive, but I have my own theories on that I will share after he dies.  I do my best to accept Dad where he is, as a result. 

My birthmother maimed me for life, neglected me to a criminal extent, and ran off when she found out I was disabled.  Oddly enough, though, the best thing she ever did was get the hell out of my life.  From what I have seen of those who had more time with her, she left a lot of scars. 

My sister, at a very vulnerable moment, was sucked into a cult.  After that, her primary focus was proselytizing, because, by her own words "It's my fondest dream that you join my church".

Dad was a lot more Biblical: "I want you to find a good, Bible-teaching church".  

I don't care what church you attend, as long as you read the Bible I gave you, and hopefully get saved.  

Why do I believe in the Holy Spirit?  That it's inside me?  One reason, anything to do with that cult has put my hackles on full alert, and sparked an intense desire to flee.

Regardless, I was dragged to one "meeting" after another, forced to sit through hours of droning sermons and bizarre behavior, even after I told her I was born again.  I was given a cult "Bible" because I "couldn't understand" my own.

No, I told her I didn't like the King James and preferred my Good News Version.  I still have my Good News Version, by the way.  I got rid of the cult Bible after talking to a pastor about it. 

My brother's a fine man, but he's a city-averse survivalist living off in the middle of nowhere.  Pretty hard to get there on the bus!  He's made it clear he will never come to Houston, and he doesn't have a phone.

All in all, when I'm falling and need someone to catch me, I've pretty much fallen on God.

God got me through my hellish early years without me becoming a serial killer.
God got me through 14 more, extremely difficult years I will not detail.
God got  me through 10 years of a difficult relationship, with a cheater.
God got me through the accident and the aftermath, when I spent many a night crying by myself in the waiting room, wishing, begging, God would send me a human shoulder to cry on.

A few months later God allowed me to be that shoulder, which I still consider a very high honor.

God got me through decades of hellish depression, delusions, paranoia, and other hell-moods; and then led me to a proper diagnosis, fantastic doctor, and medication that suits all my needs.

God's getting me through what I guess I'd term "The caregiver years" - taking care of Ron, and the business, him drinking.  I never know if he'll wake me up, needing to go to the hospital.

God also led me to a unique ministry: street corner evangelism, in notorious ghettoes.  I'm glad He can use me.

However, when He's ready to take me (rapture or death) I am certainly ready to go!   





Family isn't blood

I'm going to write about this in the hopes it helps someone else. 

It may get me in hot water, depending on readership; but I feel it's worth it. 

I have been more than a little depressed, and angry, about my family.  I feel I was shorted in so many ways.

It's bad enough my mother disabled me, then ran off when she found she had.  No, I wasn't molested.  I had the basics, sort of.  It would take a very long post to clarify.   Example, we had plenty of (nonfat) milk, but when I drank it, my stepmother used to make comments about "my weight" and say I would "end up as big as a barn".  I was a 100 pound, 5 foot 7, teenager.  I was 20 pounds, or 20% underweight, yet she was constantly making comments on how I'd get fat, I had to be careful, etc. 

Teenagers are supposed to drink a lot of milk, at least a quart a day!  

Amusing: now that I AM fat, she doesn't say a word.  Not to my face!  Not that I would accept it, anyway. 

Anyway, I have a couple of expectations I realize I will have to adjust. 

Expectation: When I call (infrequently), act happy to hear from me.  Assuming you pick up, don't tell me to go away, every week, because one of the grandkids is in the same county.  I get tired of going to voicemail.  You can't take ten minutesReally?  It's so bad, I don't even call, at all, during the summer, because, if I do get through, it's "Oh, we're so busy, we don't have time to talk".  I have been ordered to call at a certain time, once a week, only, yet when I do they are "busy", every time. 

"Oh, I read all about you on Facebook."  Nice to know you have something to chatter about with your friends.  I guess REAL, human, interaction, is out of the question. 

I remember visiting my grandmother during the summer.  I also remember she took time to talk to EACH of her kids, every week, regardless. 

Adjustment: 1.  Wait for THEM to call me.  I may just do that.  It's been over a month without a peep on their end.  Oh, excuse me, I got a text, but more on that later. 

2.  Just accept I am not important to them, except as "something" to talk about with their friends.  "You'll never guess what Heather did this week" (straight off my Facebook update).   When it comes to kids, travel, and especially grandkids, I will always come in last.  (I am practical, and sad, not bitter)

3.  Block them from my Facebook and see how long it takes them to notice. 

Not sure about the answer on that.  I'll have to pray on it. 

Expectation: If I am having a crisis, please respond.  I don't need your money, I don't need you to beat anyone up.  I need to cry on your shoulder for 5 minutes, be told I am brave, I am strong, I am kind, I am doing God's will.  Tell me you are praying.  Then I will go away until the next crisis, probably at least a year later, if not longer. 

When I had a crisis last week, and called for help, I was texted back 12 hours later and told they were "busy" but were "sure I was handling it".  I forgot the grandkids were in town. 

I contacted someone else, who acts as the family social worker.  She may read this.  I don't fault her.  She really is busy.  She probably did read the blog and saw I had things under control.   Like I said, I don't blame her. 

I'm not asking to move back in (never!).  I'm not asking you to pay my bills (Ron does that).  For God's sake, I didn't even ask for money when Ron got run over and I was about to be evicted!

Apparently my aunt passed the hat, but I didn't ask.

Anyway, I have been dealing with all this on top of the existing depression.

I have come to the depressing realization, I can't count on them in a crisis.  They did OK, considering, back in 2011.  Ron had a horrific blackout and became threatening.  I had to leave.  My aunt picked me up (like I said, she's clear).  I talked to my Dad every day while I was sorting things out, for a couple of days total.  He was very supportive.  Someone actually had my back, for a change, instead of trying to stick a knife in it. 

That all evaporated the minute I went back home. 

To quote the commercial "Like it never even happened". 

Depressing and damned sad, I think. 

Ron's family wasn't much better; their treatment of him so criminal he declared them all dead.  He has really proceeded that way; as though they all died in a horrific accident.  I sure don't miss them but I feel bad for him. 

I really thought his family was "better". 

In both our cases, those who helped the most were those with no, or minimal, blood ties.  Which leads me to a line I heard this morning. 

We got up, went to work, came home.  Work was pretty uneventful. 

As we left, someone asked if we were leaving "already" and we told him the machines were stuffed.  He gave us "permission" to leave.  :p 

I got home and I turned on the TV.  I decided to watch "Supernatural". 

Dean and Sam were talking about their maternal grandfather.  Sam felt bad about what he had done. 

"Blood doesn't make family, " Dean said "They have to earn it.".  

Well said.  

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Sad, sad, sad

Sometimes I trip over past injustice. 

This morning I woke up, wracked with miserable cramps, a terrible headache in pursuit.  Ugh. 

Why can't I have a nice day off, once in a while?  It's always stupid drama, headaches, cramps, or [censored] up moods!  Agh! 

Anyway, the cramps took forever to abate, even after the painkiller.  I believe this will be one of my "Horrible cramps, terrible heavy flow, but pretty much done in a single day" cycles. 

Ron and I went out to breakfast.  On the way, I handed out two Bibles, to delighted recipients.  That made me very happy. 

I was feeling rather broody as I sat over my pancaked.  "Did I ever tell you about the painkillers, whenever I had my period?"  

Ron gave a mock scream of terror.  He has heard enough about my past to make him bald, if he wasn't already.  "No!" 

I reminded him, how I had gotten severely depressed.  It was Not Helped by a workplace shooting at my Dad's office, which pretty much pushed me off the cliff, emotionally.  I was nearly the 8th fatality, and definitely among the "wounded". 

My Dad was, as I saw it, pretty much the only person who truly loved me, who'd take a bullet for me.  He abdicated most of the parenting to my stepmother, who favored her own kids at my expense.  Had he died my life would have gone in completely different directions.  I don't know who'd have "gotten" me at the end. 

Certainly not my mother! 

At any rate, it was a major, once in a lifetime crisis.  I was also started on antidepressants.  We all know, now, that antidepressants can cause teens to become suicidal.  They didn't know it back in 1988.  I also had some other issues at play. 

One day Ron asked why I had become suicidal.  I laid it all out for him and he gaped in shock.  "I would have been, after all that!" he exclaimed.  He has a way of making me feel better :) 

So, I became suicidal.  Intensely so.  I kept trying to figure out ways to do it.  I tried inhaling fumes off my hair mousse.  That didn't work.  I didn't want to use a knife because I had seen the aftermath when my mother tried something similar.  It's not very effective, a lot of times, either.  You have to know how to do it "right". 

I was pretty angry at my antidepressants.  I felt (correctly) "they" had just shoved a bottle at me and said, "Take these and shut up already, you're making us look bad!" 

So, I decided to overdose on the antidepressants.  I had an elaborate plan, which likely would have worked.  By the time anyone found me my brain would have been pudding, had I lived. 

I knew suicide was not in God's plan for me, and at the bottom of my soul I love God more than anything.  So, I told God "I can't hack this anymore.  I can't stand the idea of living like this.  Please, help me.  I don't want to die, but I don't want to live.  Please help me because I'm in agony." 

I went to sleep, crying.  I had a dream in which God instructed me to take the antidepressants to the school guidance counselor and tell him my plan.  I did so.  I was hospitalized for a month until my insurance ran out.  By the time I was discharged, I was manic, but for whatever reason God did not allow any mental health professional to realize I was bipolar until I reached age 32. 

I started my period pretty much around my birthday, age 13.  Good timing.  All the big milestones at once! 

Not so fun... I discovered I am prone to horrendous, wracking, cramps. 

Prior to my hospitalization, the pain relievers and other remedies could be found in a kitchen cabinet.  I could just open it up and take a couple generic ibuprofen, as needed.  I always used them responsibly. 

When I came back, they were gone.  I now had to go begging to my stepmother, who'd give me lectures: "Butch up, buttercup, and stop yer whining.  You don't need any pain pills.  All women endure this, and so will you for the next 30 years!  SUCK IT UP!"

One day my younger stepbrother (who later became my abuser) saw me sobbing in pain.  He went to her, said he had a a headache, got some ibuprofen, and gave it to me. 

He wasn't all bad.  He's had it even worse than me, in life. 

She didn't want me to have access to pills, because I had threatened to overdose, and meant it.  My mother had an extreme history of suicide attempts so everyone worried about me following in her footsteps. 

Well, by the time she was my age, she'd been married 7 times.  I only have the one husband.  :p 

I didn't like it, but I attempted to go along with the pain.  If I bought painkillers on my own, they were taken away.  At the time drugstores didn't sell the single-dose remedies. 

I just suffered, every month, in agonizing pain.  I got sneaky, though.  I knew shame was her weakness.  She had a dread terror of being embarrassed in front of her friends/family/neighbors.

So, if I had cramps, I'd wait until she had someone over, then ask.  She "had" to give me the remedy, because what kind of mother denies her suffering child, pain relief?  

Sad, sad, sad I had to play these games.

 What a joy to move in with Ron, who gave me money to buy pain relievers, if I didn't have it myself.  He figured I "wouldn't be stupid" and he was right.

If I ever killed myself, I wouldn't overdose.  When I was suicidal, back in 2006, I planned to stage "An accident" so people could believe what they wanted.

Anyway, I was thinking about it all this morning, and I had an epiphany.

Someone in the house had attempted suicide by overdose!

I won't break confidentiality.  People like me are rare.  But this person, told me themselves: they had taken a whole bottle of "pills", as a teenager, some time before my "drama".  I did not learn of it until years later.

Here's the crux: this person never had to beg for an Advil.  No one treated this person as a dangerous criminal, out to embarrass the whole family with a nasty, messy, suicide.  No, things went completely back to normal.  In fact, I didn't even know until they told me.

Of course, this person had a different mother.  

I'll say it again, sad, sad, sad.   


Monday, August 17, 2015

Lotto

"We really won the lotto on drivers today" I told Ron, with sarcasm.  He agreed. 

First: I had to take a lot of caffeine due to my migraine, yesterday (as it turns out, it was my "Hey, you started your cycle!" migraine).  It kept me up very late, and I only got about 4 hour's sleep. 

Odd but true, if I am to be shorted on my sleep, I do better if I only get 4 hours or so.  I wake up pretty energized.  If I sleep 6 hours, I am very groggy.  8-10 hours is best, of course. 

I got up, did my God Time, and took a short shower.  I always get ready early. 

Good thing, 20 minutes before the pickup time the driver's banging on my door like I owe her money.  I told her we were coming, finished eating, and took my pills. 

Thank God she didn't honk.  I don't want to be the asshole neighbor waking everyone else.  

She saw one of the cats.  I could tell she doesn't like cats, but plenty don't.  I didn't hold that against her. 

Ron came out of the house.  Now, the driver is SUPPOSED to get out and help the customer, but she just left him out there.  She probably assumed it was "my job" to get him in the vehicle. 

No, they're supposed to get out and help, even if they have a caregiver.  I was shocked.  I've never seen a driver do that. 

For $25 an hour, plus (one driver said he made $36 an hour), I'd help.  When I saw she wouldn't help I got out myself, and assisted him. 

Ron got in and shut the door.  I'm left holding his walker.  She made sure I waited a good couple minutes "busy with the papers" before she comes out, takes it, and puts it away.  Or maybe she thought it was "my job" to secure the walker, too. 

I'm mildly disgusted by now, and baffled.  She is just radiating repressed anger.  I don't know why she's so angry but we have done nothing.  Without us, she's unemployed.  I don't expect butt-kissing but NOT hating us would be nice. 

I double checked with Ron, he felt the same way I did - she was seething with anger.  She's not bipolar, I can tell that. 

I sat in the front passenger seat, and attempt to fasten my seatbelt.  The belt had an unusual amount of slack and was not retracting (useless).  I realized someone has tied a knot in the seatbelt, preventing it from functioning properly. 

I told the driver, "I think this belt is broken, I'm going to sit in the back seat".  I rode, once, with a lady who was a quadraplegic because she didn't wear a seatbelt.  No thanks.  If I can prevent an injury, I will. 

Besides, Houston is a good mix of "Road Warrior" meets "Death Race" every day, to begin with!  My seat had a good belt. 

I suggested she "call it in" and report she can't use the front seat. 

She got very angry with me and shouted that she had done that, on purpose, because "A pacemaker client was complaining about it pressing on him". 

In that case, the driver is supposed to say: "If you won't wear the safety belt I can't transport you".  I have seen that happen, several times.  Guess what, the client always wears the belt.  You can lose your service for that. 

I would also suggest the client bring a small towel or something to cushion the blow.  If I were a driver I might even bring some large, clean, rags or small pillows the clients could use to pad the seatbelt, if needed.   Lots of options. 

In 12 years of ridership, this is the first time I've ever seen this.  I imagine this is what she does in her own car. 

Speaking of, I realize that all the other seatbelts have been "knotted", and are completely useless, including Ron's belt.  I was Not Happy. 

When the driver got out to help the next clients (!) (caregiver and client), into the vehicle, I had Ron move over into the middle back seat, which was OK. 

I would have waited, not said anything, and then called in a safety complaint.  Ron couldn't leave it, though, part of his head injury. 

"Why are ALL the seatbelts knotted?" he asked. 

She got angry again and went on about how every client is either a dialysis patient (with a fistula, she meant), or a pacemaker client.  Wrong.  While I'm sure she sees a lot of dialysis patients, I have ridden with more, and not one has ever complained about the seatbelt/fistula. 

So, she concluded, because everyone was bothered by the belt, she had to tie them off.  Ron and I can't look at each other, but we did, sort of, mentally, completely baffled. 

"She wasn't right" Ron said, after we disembarked. 

When we got to our location, I told Ron to wait in the car "Until you have the walker".  She didn't like that, she wanted him to get out, then go fumble around in the back, making him stand in agony as long as possible, before finally giving him the walker. 

God showed me how to circumvent that.  We left. 

"If she's smart" I told Ron "She'll undo all those seatbelts and make them functional.  She's got to know we have to call this in." 

I'll refer you back to the woman who was paralyzed from her neck down, because she didn't have a seatbelt.  One that's been tampered with is just as bad as no seatbelt at all. 

We did call it in, Ron did.  He told them the situation, and then said "Don't believe me, send a safety supervisor to go check out her seatbelts".  There's no way she can undo all of them, in time, if they pull her over.  Even if she tried they'd see it. 

I'm not sorry.  She will get fired if they catch her.  But I'm not sorry.  You don't compromise on safety.  You don't get an attitude with your clients because you don't like your personal life. 

I think God sent her to us because He knew we would report her.  [shudder] 

Unlike last week, this week went pretty well.  Sales were pretty slow, which was nice, we agreed.  We know we will be in rocket mode next month, through January. 

I did snacks, didn't take long, even with the pastry.  Ron raced through the sodas, we got 2 deliveries, I stocked the machines, and even had time to do a little reading in my earthquake book ("The Rift"). 

We headed out, into yet more drama. 

This driver was blasting hymns on his radio.  ["Fake Christians are the worst" Ron said later "I wish he'd been an atheist.  He makes God look bad."]  There was a very large woman in the backseat, the front seat was empty except for some personal items, belonging to the driver. 

He tried to say we would all have to sit in the back.  No, I told him, you're not going to pull this "No one can sit in the front seat" (for $25 an hour you can deal with it!!!  If you find us so OFFENSIVE!) "Crap, are you?  The last driver who tried that we called in on her and she lost her job.   [she did]  Unless someone peed in it?" 

He said no one had peed in the seat, gave a HUGE sigh, and made a major production out of clearing out the front seat.  The woman in the back immediately leapt into it, after offering it to Ron, who was clearly having some difficulty.  I thought that was sweet. 

She took out her phone and had a very involved conversation about her probable arrival at her drop off location, which, by the way, was after us. 

The driver made up his own schedule (!!!) and dropped her first.  I guess they think I can't read the computer.  It isn't difficult. 

Recently, Houston had what is basically a family massacre.  Someone's Baby Daddy came to her house, killed their child, her other 5 kids, her, and her husband.  It's been a huge tragedy. 

I found it quite provoking when I heard the children in the family had been begging neighbors for food.  I don't know what was happening but I didn't think good parenting was involved.  That's the kindest way I can frame it. 

Now, they were having a huge funeral at the church.  I figured it out when I saw the 8 hearses, and the media. 

Spectacle.  I pray to God no one does that if I die (I think the Rapture's imminent).  Just have a nice meal, talk a little, and pass out Bibles to anyone who doesn't have one. 

I hate huge spectacle, funerals. 

I've never actually attended one, but I've seen funeral processions.  I find them really frustrating.  You are dead.  Why are you [censoring] up MY traffic? 

Do I think I would have a big funeral?  No.  I would be shocked.  I'm OK with that.  I think there'd be a bigger uproar online than locally. 

I need to figure out how I would alert you, my reader.  I need to find a highly trusted person.  Maybe ask my aunt to mail a package, which would contain my password. 

Sad but true, I don't trust a lot of people.  Anyway, my name can be found on this page if you know where to look.  If I don't post for a week or so you could always Google my name.  

Anyway, we came home.  I ate some Lo Mein (a bad idea), and took a pretty good nap.  I slept 3 hours.  I think Torbie slept with me. 

I woke up with a headache and had to take OTC headache tablets (more caffeine!), but they worked.  

I already did my God Time this morning so I watched a little TV and got online.  I'm a little manic today but I think that's just the sleep deprivation and the caffeine I drank to wake up. 

Then my message boards, here, and maybe a little looking around later. 

Tomorrow's off.  That's nice. 

I don't feel bad about that, we will be working very hard this winter so I plan to charge my battery, so to speak. 


Sunday, August 16, 2015

Bus system rollout day

I woke up with a ghastly headache.  Migraine. 

I limped through my God Time and opted out of a shower.  I was worried the heat would make the headache mad. 

No Wellbutrin.  That, plus a migraine, equals vomiting. 

So, I'm puking migraine depressed, instead of just the last two. 

It was New Bus System Rollout Day.  I really wanted to go exploring.  Ron had teased me about it. 

"How would you feel if you got your sight back, a license, and a set of car keys?"  He laughed. 

I watched a little TV and went back to bed.  I had a dream.  I was whining about my problems, and Sig from Deadliest Catch was giving me a very encouraging pep talk. 

I woke up about the time Ron did.  I talked to him for a while and decided to go ride the bus. 

Did I mention all rides are free, for the week?   I felt VERY odd leaving my bus pass at home. 

I had planned to go to a rather iffy area, so I left pretty much everything except my self defense items, cash, and my house keys (on a self defense key ring). 

Note a theme. 

I headed out and waited for the bus.  Ron and I talked on the phone, off and on.  The bus came, I boarded.  The driver was unfamiliar with the new route and kept consulting a piece of paper. 

I saw my buddy - he lives somewhere nearby, and also rides the bus.  He is black.  We are "Wave hi and smile" friendly.  We chatted, both excited our worlds are opening up. 

I disembarked at the Vietnamese grocery store.  It is near a VERY rough apartment complex that was only built several years ago.  It's attracted a bad crowd. 

Why so harsh?  That's where the would-be gangbanger pointed a gun at me.  One review calls it an "Upscale ghetto".  It makes me more nervous than Acres Homes. 

I did attempt to scout a good Handout location, but failed.  :( 

I went in and had fun shopping, I got some tea, utensils, and porridge-type things.  Asian grocers always have the best tea.  This one also has fantastic locally grown vegetables.  I've seen the farmers unloading their vehicles outside the grocery store in the morning. 

It was about what you'd expect, at a grocery store on a Sunday afternoon.  One older black lady wandered the produce section, looking completely baffled by the exotic vegetables.  I felt bad for her. 

I am very partial to Amaranth greens.  Yum.  But I didn't bring my insulated bag so they had to stay in the crisper. 

I paid and left, fairly hungry.  I ate greasy takeout at a Chinese place in the parking lot.   Pretty good.  I need to remember to bring a snack before I go grocery shopping. 

I had a little wait on the bus, but not bad.  It's running every half hour, minimum, every day of the week, 4 AM to 1 AM.  Pretty [censored] good!  If you ask me. 

I came home and offered Ron some lo mein.  He said no.  I ate some Salvadoran cake I bought yesterday.  Not bad, a little sour but interesting - wouldn't buy again.  I had a couple glasses of milk with that and took my meds. 

Trust me, far better to overeat when taking the meds. 

We have to get up early tomorrow, Dr Pepper delivery day.  But we'll be done before most people go to lunch! 

Torbie on my feet

Two days in one, again.  I got up at 7 AM (late for me) yesterday and we went to Walmart.  I finally found a canister for the dry cat food...