Today was one of those "Why can't I have a boring day" days.
I slept great last night, and needed every minute of sleep. I got up, took my shower, and did my God Time. Ron was very respectful while I did my God Time.
I did hear him talking to the kitten "Yes, I'm stealing your poop!" as he cleaned the litterbox. I am really impressed, Ron has stepped up and really "owned" the kitten. He is happy to clean her box, and I never have to remind him.
We have 3 boxes in our 900 square foot home, that certainly helps.
I needed to go to Walmart, make a deposit and get my medication. I left my backpack at home, and it had the check, so I felt pretty stupid later.
Our ride was about an hour late. It finally pulled up and I stuck my head into the van. A woman was sitting behind the driver.
Here's a pet peeve, people who take up 3-5 seats on public transit because they have an inflated concept of personal space. If you are on public transit, there isn't any.
I think I have a blog running around, about how a driver forced me to sit in the backseat of a cab, a bucket seat, with a very obese woman AND Ron, because "I don't like people in the front seat". The driver didn't last long.
This woman was taking up 3 seats. But, the van has about a dozen so it didn't matter. I said hello and smiled at her as I got on, and she sniffed at me.
I was wearing modest shorts and an oversized men's tshirt. The mens' shirts are not as clingy, have a higher neckline, and a much longer hem that doesn't pull up on me. I realized later, though, in her eyes I was naked.
You see, she was wearing the getup. She had a head covering, some kind of tunic, baggy pants, and a mismatched, expensive hot pink sweater over the tunic. She had a very expensive gold bracelet that could probably pay my mortgage for a year. Not really a wise accessory for Walmart, especially when travelling alone.
But, I've met all kinds of people on Metrolift. I just got on. Ron and I were chatting, and I noticed the lady was acting very weird. She kept scowling at me and clapping her hand over her ear everytime I spoke. I just ignored her, it was apparent she wanted attention.
And really, I'm bug nuts crazy. I didn't know what kind of problem she had. Better not to go there.
Ron's playing music on his talking book machine, and he and the driver are singing along. I'm making small talk with the driver between songs.
We got about 3/4 of the way there and she suddenly screams at me to stop talking. I was shocked.
I knew she had been trying to control the conversation - end it - by her gesticulations and scowling, but I had stopped looking at her. Problem solved.
If she had said she didn't feel well, had a migraine or what, of course I would have shut up.
Now she was telling me to be quiet? Ordering me?
Am I her [censored]? Because she's sure treating me like one!
I leaned forward and looked at her directly. "Why?"
Ron heard my tone of voice, calm and deadly, and started pulling on my arm. Asking me to "Let Jesus into your heart". Wise man. He knew.
"Your voice is very loud and annoying".
Now, I once had a guy, basically, tell me "My brain is full. I can't talk anymore." I had people end a conversation so they could talk to someone else. But never, ever, in my life, has someone called me loud and annoying.
For those of you who've seen my videos, you can make your own decision. If anything, people tell me I am too soft-spoken. "Turn it up" being the most common complaint on my video blogs "I can't hear you".
So, I told her "No".
She got very mad and started going on about how she wanted me to shut up, so I had to do it. I told her "No" again and then "I'm going to talk. Deal with it!" All the while looking her right in the eyes.
Now, I'm manic. You don't want to poke sticks at a manic bipolar person. We can be very confrontational and that is how "bipolar" turned into an adjective.
Like I said, you don't know WHY someone is riding, but it may just be they're crazy!
She started huffing, snorting, and flopping around in the seat. I just stared at her.
The driver later told me she found the ride so objectionable BEFORE we got on, she had already cancelled her return trip and asked someone to pick her up. - She was packing an attitude before we got on. Car people always get angry about delayed rides and shared rides (picking up and dropping off other clients). They tend to have a lot of tantrums at first (so I hear) but then they settle down and suck it up, because they don't have any other way to get around. Or, they go back to whatever they were doing before they applied for the service.
I hate bullies. I will not be bullied. I can't abide bullies. If you want to dominate and control me you will find yourself running into a brick wall. Several people have discovered this, the hard way. I may look soft, but I'm not weak.
I know a very bad word. Ron was still trying to "manage" me and I let him. I told him "I want to say the word, Ron"
"What word?"
"The Arabic word. She'll know what it means". He started pulling on my arm again and going on about Jesus. So, I didn't say the word.
The loose translation is "skank".
Then I continued to talk to the driver cheerfully, the way I have for the last 10 years, the driver and Ron sang along with the music, and we all went to Walmart.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Friday, April 5, 2013
Demonic farts from hell
Today was kind of wierd. It started with one of our favorite drivers honking away 15 minutes before our pickup time.
I went outside. That's very unusual for her.
She rolled down the window. "Our pickup's in 15 minutes" I told her.
The driver took a breath, and started to speak, but the woman in the backseat began raving at me. "Some of us have appointments" etc.
Well, that's not my fault. I went with the Bible "He answered not a word" Matthew 27:14
I just looked at her, baffled, and went back in the house. I don't have to come out for 20 minutes. I'm doing you a favor if I come out early.
I went back in, told Ron. I won't repeat what he said, except for "You can take out the wheelchair".
We have the oddest conversations sometimes "Are we a wheelchair?" Today, we were a wheelchair. I took it out, the driver set it up.
Then, while waiting on Ron to come out, outside the cab, talking to the driver, I witnessed the awful sight of Baby Girl eating roadkill. How disgusting.
And I kiss her!
We had an uneventful ride and later, the driver told us the cranky woman thought we were really nice. I'm glad I didn't say anything.
We got our supplies, a lot of them, then waited for over an hour past out pickup time on the ride. We did get a good ride, but a very short time at work. I did manage to stock almost everything in the limited time I had.
Another wait, not too bad, to go to the bank. Ron had to do something. Then I pushed him, in the wheelchair, which we still had, to the mall.
We ate, and had ANOTHER long wait on our next ride. Finally, home, and I was exhausted. I couldn't wait to take a nap... but the neighbor kids wanted to play "kick the soccer ball into the side of Heather's house" instead.
I was pretty aggravated. I thought, I can go yell, but how about I go mow the yard instead? So, I did that.
When I finished I made a joke with my other neighbor about sharing a goat. It could my yard, then his.
Ron and I chatted a bit and he found some rawhides in the cabinet. He asked me to take them to the neighbor with a small dog. I said, sure.
They looked OK, after all. No bugs. The neighbor was thrilled.
"Heather" Ron said when I got back "Did you warn him about the farting?" What? Dogs can't have too much rawhide or they have demonic farts from hell.
Oh, Ron, I'm tired. I'm sure he already knows.
"I have to warn him" Ron cried. He already had a beer on board. "I'm going to go tell him". Ron staggered off, and told the guy. I could hear the laughter inside the house.
Ron came back in, proud and satisfied. Another marriage saved. Except, maybe not. Ron and I are wondering if the guy will tell his lady about the fart issue. He may "let" her overfeed the rawhide, and then go sleep on the couch as she sleeps in bed with the dog. Until it gets toxic.
We can tell ourselves a story about everything.
I went outside. That's very unusual for her.
She rolled down the window. "Our pickup's in 15 minutes" I told her.
The driver took a breath, and started to speak, but the woman in the backseat began raving at me. "Some of us have appointments" etc.
Well, that's not my fault. I went with the Bible "He answered not a word" Matthew 27:14
I just looked at her, baffled, and went back in the house. I don't have to come out for 20 minutes. I'm doing you a favor if I come out early.
I went back in, told Ron. I won't repeat what he said, except for "You can take out the wheelchair".
We have the oddest conversations sometimes "Are we a wheelchair?" Today, we were a wheelchair. I took it out, the driver set it up.
Then, while waiting on Ron to come out, outside the cab, talking to the driver, I witnessed the awful sight of Baby Girl eating roadkill. How disgusting.
And I kiss her!
We had an uneventful ride and later, the driver told us the cranky woman thought we were really nice. I'm glad I didn't say anything.
We got our supplies, a lot of them, then waited for over an hour past out pickup time on the ride. We did get a good ride, but a very short time at work. I did manage to stock almost everything in the limited time I had.
Another wait, not too bad, to go to the bank. Ron had to do something. Then I pushed him, in the wheelchair, which we still had, to the mall.
We ate, and had ANOTHER long wait on our next ride. Finally, home, and I was exhausted. I couldn't wait to take a nap... but the neighbor kids wanted to play "kick the soccer ball into the side of Heather's house" instead.
I was pretty aggravated. I thought, I can go yell, but how about I go mow the yard instead? So, I did that.
When I finished I made a joke with my other neighbor about sharing a goat. It could my yard, then his.
Ron and I chatted a bit and he found some rawhides in the cabinet. He asked me to take them to the neighbor with a small dog. I said, sure.
They looked OK, after all. No bugs. The neighbor was thrilled.
"Heather" Ron said when I got back "Did you warn him about the farting?" What? Dogs can't have too much rawhide or they have demonic farts from hell.
Oh, Ron, I'm tired. I'm sure he already knows.
"I have to warn him" Ron cried. He already had a beer on board. "I'm going to go tell him". Ron staggered off, and told the guy. I could hear the laughter inside the house.
Ron came back in, proud and satisfied. Another marriage saved. Except, maybe not. Ron and I are wondering if the guy will tell his lady about the fart issue. He may "let" her overfeed the rawhide, and then go sleep on the couch as she sleeps in bed with the dog. Until it gets toxic.
We can tell ourselves a story about everything.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
"Thanks for killing my friends"
So, things have been pretty quiet for us. Ron decided to take Tuesday and Wednesday off. Yesterday, we went to the grocery store. I vaccumed. We love the new vaccum, the cats hate it.
Last night, I slept poorly, so I slept late today. 9 AM. Don't forget we work Saturdays. I watched Criminal Minds for a while and did a little more housework.
Which brings me to about the only interesting thing that did happen today. Don't get me wrong, I adore boring. I wish I could have it every day. But it tends to be rare in my life.
I have needed to wash Ron's sheets for a while. However, when he's at home, he's in bed, lying down. He doesn't want to get up so I can change the sheets. I have to "get" them when he's up and usually I forget.
Today, I remembered, and "made" him sit in his wheelchair for a few minutes as I changed the bed. He has a lot of stuff in he bed, talking books, talking book machines, headphones, remote, an old VCR that Bubba loves and we can never throw out, etc.
Bubba likes to sit on the VCR. It's his chair. Ron got rid of it and Bubba sulked so much Ron actually got it back out of the trash can, by himself. He did cut off the cord because it's broken.
Ron and I think, the burglars didn't bother with his room because they saw his dead computer graveyard and the VCR, and said "Forget it".
So, I took off the old sheet, stained and filthy. I changed the cover on his euro pillow. He likes the 26 inch square pillow, nice and flat. I prefer standard pillows, nice and fluffy, stacked atop each other.
He has 2 sets of sheets, the dark gray sheet and gray check pillowcase, and the solid navy pillowcase and sheet. He only likes a fitted sheet. He has two blankets, a knitted afghan I made, and a fleece one I bought at the linen shop. He also has a feather comforter which he seldom uses, but when he does he loves it.
That's all he wants.
So, I dragged my prey off to the laundry room, and I told Ron "Billions of bacteria are about to die".
"Those are my friends" he replied with perfect mock bitterness. I cackled evilly and loaded them in the washer.
I turned it on, HOT setting, and SOAK. It began to agitate as I closed the top.
"They're dying right now" I told Ron, as he pretended to pout.
Later on, he got up and went back to his room.
"Thanks for killing my friends!"
God, I love that man!
Last night, I slept poorly, so I slept late today. 9 AM. Don't forget we work Saturdays. I watched Criminal Minds for a while and did a little more housework.
Which brings me to about the only interesting thing that did happen today. Don't get me wrong, I adore boring. I wish I could have it every day. But it tends to be rare in my life.
I have needed to wash Ron's sheets for a while. However, when he's at home, he's in bed, lying down. He doesn't want to get up so I can change the sheets. I have to "get" them when he's up and usually I forget.
Today, I remembered, and "made" him sit in his wheelchair for a few minutes as I changed the bed. He has a lot of stuff in he bed, talking books, talking book machines, headphones, remote, an old VCR that Bubba loves and we can never throw out, etc.
Bubba likes to sit on the VCR. It's his chair. Ron got rid of it and Bubba sulked so much Ron actually got it back out of the trash can, by himself. He did cut off the cord because it's broken.
Ron and I think, the burglars didn't bother with his room because they saw his dead computer graveyard and the VCR, and said "Forget it".
So, I took off the old sheet, stained and filthy. I changed the cover on his euro pillow. He likes the 26 inch square pillow, nice and flat. I prefer standard pillows, nice and fluffy, stacked atop each other.
He has 2 sets of sheets, the dark gray sheet and gray check pillowcase, and the solid navy pillowcase and sheet. He only likes a fitted sheet. He has two blankets, a knitted afghan I made, and a fleece one I bought at the linen shop. He also has a feather comforter which he seldom uses, but when he does he loves it.
That's all he wants.
So, I dragged my prey off to the laundry room, and I told Ron "Billions of bacteria are about to die".
"Those are my friends" he replied with perfect mock bitterness. I cackled evilly and loaded them in the washer.
I turned it on, HOT setting, and SOAK. It began to agitate as I closed the top.
"They're dying right now" I told Ron, as he pretended to pout.
Later on, he got up and went back to his room.
"Thanks for killing my friends!"
God, I love that man!
Fun with Broken
I have to admit, I am having a TREMENDOUS amount of fun writing "Broken". I guess you could say it's all Ron's fault.
I've always made up, and told myself, stories, my whole life. Show me a random person on the street and I can make up a whole life for them. For a long time, I've wanted to write a heroine with my problems - FAS and bipolar, along with some other issues I have seen in others.
I mentioned this to Ron, and he said "Why not?" But, I told him, no one wants to read about a woman with FAS and bipolar. "Do it anyway" he said. I can't repeat the rest.
So, Jenny came to me gradually. She was a lively young woman, a little younger than me. She had FAS, and bipolar (like me). She had suffered horrific sexual and physical abuse, rendering her infertile. Unlike me, she wants kids. Her husband got sucked into a cult and left his brain at the door, but he's out now and he wants her back.
I have future plot twists already planned, some of which made no sense to me. "What?" No way! I just need to work my way up to them. It will be so much fun.
I know I'm getting some of you, from here, reading over there. If you have, keep doing so. I am posting a new chaper at least every day. Worst case, every week. You just have to scroll down to the last chapter read and go "up" from there.
I'm not making any money on either blog. I just do this for fun.
I hope you enjoy it, too.
I've always made up, and told myself, stories, my whole life. Show me a random person on the street and I can make up a whole life for them. For a long time, I've wanted to write a heroine with my problems - FAS and bipolar, along with some other issues I have seen in others.
I mentioned this to Ron, and he said "Why not?" But, I told him, no one wants to read about a woman with FAS and bipolar. "Do it anyway" he said. I can't repeat the rest.
So, Jenny came to me gradually. She was a lively young woman, a little younger than me. She had FAS, and bipolar (like me). She had suffered horrific sexual and physical abuse, rendering her infertile. Unlike me, she wants kids. Her husband got sucked into a cult and left his brain at the door, but he's out now and he wants her back.
I have future plot twists already planned, some of which made no sense to me. "What?" No way! I just need to work my way up to them. It will be so much fun.
I know I'm getting some of you, from here, reading over there. If you have, keep doing so. I am posting a new chaper at least every day. Worst case, every week. You just have to scroll down to the last chapter read and go "up" from there.
I'm not making any money on either blog. I just do this for fun.
I hope you enjoy it, too.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
I just laugh
Apparently, book writers are always getting the question "Where do your ideas come from?"
A better question would be, "Heather, how do you keep the ideas you get?" - the answer to that, most of my blog ideas end up floating off before I can ever get them down. What you read are the ones that remain.
Tonight while watching "Criminal Minds" I saw an ad for a "Fast and fun fitness system". It looked like a lot of fun, dancing, good music, and weight loss. I could even afford it.
However, my aerobic dance routines tend to look more like the Tin Man when he rusted up. Yeah. See, they want me to move my torso one way, left arm one way, right arm one way, left leg... you get the idea. I can do one limb or the torso. That's about it.
Remember the old aerobic step? I did OK with that - but I made up my own routine where I basically just went up and down with no arm movements. It got my heart rate up, built muscle, and burned fat - but if I'd tried to do it "their" way I never could have done it.
I need to get back on the step, even if it's only a couple minutes every day before my shower.
Sports? I was so bad at sports they put me in "special" PE. It was very humiliating but still better than comparing myself to the other kids. Where they other kids were shooting baskets, they had me practice dribbling. Baseball? Forget it. My instinct remains true, if a ball is flying at my head I will duck.
Virtually every sport requires a ball, flying at my head. I could never catch it so it always hit me, and hurt, and I thought "Where's the fun in this?" as the other kids and the coach yelled at me.
I was even a slow runner - but I learned something. I'm a good distance runner. I'm not fast, but I'm steady.
I'm proud of a lot of things in my life, but one "personal", non-God-related thing is my half marathon. Yup. In 2004 I ran 13.1 miles in 3 hours, 2 minutes, and 50 seconds. I was thrilled.
Ron was still in bad shape after his accident (he had a lot of back pain, not surprising), and didn't want to come to the event, so he gave me his cell phone. I called him on the landline at every mile marker.
I had struggled a lot between miles 9 and 11. I had to stop training for a few weeks, right before the race, due to a sinus infection. I lost a lot of endurance, but I still went out and did it.
Then I ate the energy bar before the race. BAD idea. I was wracked with horrible cramps up to mile 4. I was basically running at my very slowest speed when everyone was leaving me in their dust. I almost got trampled by a platoon of Marines.
I kept at it, and called Ron. Until I got to mile 12. I got my wind back and I just wanted to finish. I knew I was going to finish and wanted to make a good end.
So, as I approach the final quarter mile, the phone rang. Ron "Are you OK?"
"I'm about to cross the finish line" I told him "I'll call you back". That was probably the most fun phone call of my life.
That, and the one when the nurses told me Ron finally remembered me (He had completely forgotten me - the first week after he woke up he kept asking "Who are you?")
I finished the race. I weighed about 180, 5 foot 7. I was a lot fatter than the other runners, who called me the "Purple People Eater" due to my purple top and shorts Boy, did I strut. I strutted like a rooster. I ate, talked to Ron, and walked out of the area to a place where I could call a cab. I did that, rode home, and ordered a large meatlover pizza.
Then I ate the entire thing, all by myself.
When I got a little money from my mother last year, I thought of buying a treadmill, but put it into Bibles and emergency fund instead. I did get myself a ($30) waterproof Bible but that was the only luxury.
If we won a lotto, maybe 300K or so, I would buy myself a treadmill. I hope I would use it! I have to wonder, though, because I'm sitting, literally, right next to a recumbent exercise bike Ron bought back in 2006. He got it used, for a good price. I was completely depressed at the time and didn't really contribute.
At any rate, the cat sits on it more than we do! I have to add, though, I have never been a fan of exercise bikes.
I also have some free weight equipment in the garage, again, I need to get using it and figure out when and how and work it with my energy levels. Ron bought that for me as a wedding present.
I was terrible at sports, not a sprinter, only a very slow long distance runner. I was 10 years old before I learned to ride a bike, when my adoptive mother literally shoved me down a hill on a 2 wheeled bike. It worked.
It would not be safe for me to ride a bike, in Houston. The driving here is insane and very aggressive. Ron needs me healthy, he asked me not to get a bike, and I agree.
Although, between us, I know of several people run over at bus stops!
I found out what works for me, and I did it. I didn't try to put myself in the "normal" mold but found what worked for me. I found out I love powerlifting and long distance running. I found a strength I didn't know I had.
So, I just laugh at the thought of trying to do that exercise DVD weight loss system.
A better question would be, "Heather, how do you keep the ideas you get?" - the answer to that, most of my blog ideas end up floating off before I can ever get them down. What you read are the ones that remain.
Tonight while watching "Criminal Minds" I saw an ad for a "Fast and fun fitness system". It looked like a lot of fun, dancing, good music, and weight loss. I could even afford it.
However, my aerobic dance routines tend to look more like the Tin Man when he rusted up. Yeah. See, they want me to move my torso one way, left arm one way, right arm one way, left leg... you get the idea. I can do one limb or the torso. That's about it.
Remember the old aerobic step? I did OK with that - but I made up my own routine where I basically just went up and down with no arm movements. It got my heart rate up, built muscle, and burned fat - but if I'd tried to do it "their" way I never could have done it.
I need to get back on the step, even if it's only a couple minutes every day before my shower.
Sports? I was so bad at sports they put me in "special" PE. It was very humiliating but still better than comparing myself to the other kids. Where they other kids were shooting baskets, they had me practice dribbling. Baseball? Forget it. My instinct remains true, if a ball is flying at my head I will duck.
Virtually every sport requires a ball, flying at my head. I could never catch it so it always hit me, and hurt, and I thought "Where's the fun in this?" as the other kids and the coach yelled at me.
I was even a slow runner - but I learned something. I'm a good distance runner. I'm not fast, but I'm steady.
I'm proud of a lot of things in my life, but one "personal", non-God-related thing is my half marathon. Yup. In 2004 I ran 13.1 miles in 3 hours, 2 minutes, and 50 seconds. I was thrilled.
Ron was still in bad shape after his accident (he had a lot of back pain, not surprising), and didn't want to come to the event, so he gave me his cell phone. I called him on the landline at every mile marker.
I had struggled a lot between miles 9 and 11. I had to stop training for a few weeks, right before the race, due to a sinus infection. I lost a lot of endurance, but I still went out and did it.
Then I ate the energy bar before the race. BAD idea. I was wracked with horrible cramps up to mile 4. I was basically running at my very slowest speed when everyone was leaving me in their dust. I almost got trampled by a platoon of Marines.
I kept at it, and called Ron. Until I got to mile 12. I got my wind back and I just wanted to finish. I knew I was going to finish and wanted to make a good end.
So, as I approach the final quarter mile, the phone rang. Ron "Are you OK?"
"I'm about to cross the finish line" I told him "I'll call you back". That was probably the most fun phone call of my life.
That, and the one when the nurses told me Ron finally remembered me (He had completely forgotten me - the first week after he woke up he kept asking "Who are you?")
I finished the race. I weighed about 180, 5 foot 7. I was a lot fatter than the other runners, who called me the "Purple People Eater" due to my purple top and shorts Boy, did I strut. I strutted like a rooster. I ate, talked to Ron, and walked out of the area to a place where I could call a cab. I did that, rode home, and ordered a large meatlover pizza.
Then I ate the entire thing, all by myself.
When I got a little money from my mother last year, I thought of buying a treadmill, but put it into Bibles and emergency fund instead. I did get myself a ($30) waterproof Bible but that was the only luxury.
If we won a lotto, maybe 300K or so, I would buy myself a treadmill. I hope I would use it! I have to wonder, though, because I'm sitting, literally, right next to a recumbent exercise bike Ron bought back in 2006. He got it used, for a good price. I was completely depressed at the time and didn't really contribute.
At any rate, the cat sits on it more than we do! I have to add, though, I have never been a fan of exercise bikes.
I also have some free weight equipment in the garage, again, I need to get using it and figure out when and how and work it with my energy levels. Ron bought that for me as a wedding present.
I was terrible at sports, not a sprinter, only a very slow long distance runner. I was 10 years old before I learned to ride a bike, when my adoptive mother literally shoved me down a hill on a 2 wheeled bike. It worked.
It would not be safe for me to ride a bike, in Houston. The driving here is insane and very aggressive. Ron needs me healthy, he asked me not to get a bike, and I agree.
Although, between us, I know of several people run over at bus stops!
I found out what works for me, and I did it. I didn't try to put myself in the "normal" mold but found what worked for me. I found out I love powerlifting and long distance running. I found a strength I didn't know I had.
So, I just laugh at the thought of trying to do that exercise DVD weight loss system.
Naughty list
M., you have a beautiful spirit. (((Hugs))) Don't be afraid to share it.
Ron had a condition when it came to marriage. "Heather" he said "I'm 20 years older than you, I'm going to die first. I want you do make me a promise. Remarry."
What?
"I want you to remarry. I don't want you to spend the rest of your life alone." Newly in love, I didn't want to think about losing him, but there it was.
I agreed.
I almost did lose Ron, 10 years ago. I often wonder how my life would have changed if he had died.
For certain, everyone was blaming me. I would have been homeless (until my aunt took me in, which I'm sure she would have). I would have been unemployed, because I work for Ron.
I would have been crazy, because I didn't even know I was sick!
So, there I am unemployed, homeless, crazy, the villian in Ron's death. It's not surprising God sent him back! I probably would have killed myself!
Now, onto happier subjects.
"News Poisoning". Have you ever seen this, in people who faithfully watch the news? They hang onto every tale of woe for the entire program, then turn around and tell you "The city is terrible, we live in an awful neighborhood, the world is going to hell!"
From my own observations, the most faithful news-watchers are also the most negative personalities. I don't watch the news at all. I have enough trouble as it is.
I see the symptoms in people freaking out about North Korea right now. So, they want to kick America's butt. What can they do, really?
Their own missiles blow up on the launch pad. Their people are starving. Their leader is a delusional narcissist, just like his daddy. They torture, imprison, and execute Christians, which has got to put them on God's naughty list.
Ron talks about "probability estimating" - I'd say the odds of them attacking us in any kind of meaninful way, on US soil, is infestiminal - unless they had a biological agent. Even then, we have measures in place. I'm not losing a second to worry over them.
I, being naturally paranoid at heart, wonder what is going on behind the "North Korea Crisis" - what is happening that they don't want us to know about? That's what I'd worry about, if I worried.
But I don't worry, because I'm commanded, in the Bible, not to do so. Go to www.biblegateway.com. Type in the word "worry" into the search bar. Lots of very interesting results.
I also have a confidence a lot of people lack, because I know how God has sustained me. Take a look at a few things in my life.
What are the odds my workaholic father would leave the office, an hour before the spree killer showed up and killed 7 people in his building? What was Dad doing? Meeting with my doctor, because I had a depression. So, because I am crazy, my Dad lived. He has also done a lot of good with the time he's gotten, including ministering to homeless drug and alcohol addicts for decades.
What are the odds that, after Ron's accident, when I was completely broke and desperate, hiding it because I was afraid "they" would take Ron away, someone would send me an email? "Heather" he said "God has been letting me know you need help. I want to send you some money". I refused, the first time. The second time, right when we needed it, I got a 4-figure check that covered our expenses for months.
What are the odds that a living-single handyman would come to my church, bored out of his mind, and ask the pastor for a charity home improvement project to keep him busy (he was living in an apartment)? What are the odds he'd say this one week before my friend emailed the church, telling them about my disastrous bathroom? What are the odds he would take the job, and do it all for free? But he did, and I have a hotel-quality shower enclosure now.
These are just a few examples - God has always had my back. He always will. What can man do to me?
So, I don't worry. I try to focus on being a child who makes God proud, taking my thoughts captive, repenting when I sin, getting my God Time every day. Loving my husband, loving my family (including you), loving my customers, and drivers - shining God's light and love everywhere I go (I pray I do this).
I'm praying for you, daily. (((Hugs)))
Ron had a condition when it came to marriage. "Heather" he said "I'm 20 years older than you, I'm going to die first. I want you do make me a promise. Remarry."
What?
"I want you to remarry. I don't want you to spend the rest of your life alone." Newly in love, I didn't want to think about losing him, but there it was.
I agreed.
I almost did lose Ron, 10 years ago. I often wonder how my life would have changed if he had died.
For certain, everyone was blaming me. I would have been homeless (until my aunt took me in, which I'm sure she would have). I would have been unemployed, because I work for Ron.
I would have been crazy, because I didn't even know I was sick!
So, there I am unemployed, homeless, crazy, the villian in Ron's death. It's not surprising God sent him back! I probably would have killed myself!
Now, onto happier subjects.
"News Poisoning". Have you ever seen this, in people who faithfully watch the news? They hang onto every tale of woe for the entire program, then turn around and tell you "The city is terrible, we live in an awful neighborhood, the world is going to hell!"
From my own observations, the most faithful news-watchers are also the most negative personalities. I don't watch the news at all. I have enough trouble as it is.
I see the symptoms in people freaking out about North Korea right now. So, they want to kick America's butt. What can they do, really?
Their own missiles blow up on the launch pad. Their people are starving. Their leader is a delusional narcissist, just like his daddy. They torture, imprison, and execute Christians, which has got to put them on God's naughty list.
Ron talks about "probability estimating" - I'd say the odds of them attacking us in any kind of meaninful way, on US soil, is infestiminal - unless they had a biological agent. Even then, we have measures in place. I'm not losing a second to worry over them.
I, being naturally paranoid at heart, wonder what is going on behind the "North Korea Crisis" - what is happening that they don't want us to know about? That's what I'd worry about, if I worried.
But I don't worry, because I'm commanded, in the Bible, not to do so. Go to www.biblegateway.com. Type in the word "worry" into the search bar. Lots of very interesting results.
I also have a confidence a lot of people lack, because I know how God has sustained me. Take a look at a few things in my life.
What are the odds my workaholic father would leave the office, an hour before the spree killer showed up and killed 7 people in his building? What was Dad doing? Meeting with my doctor, because I had a depression. So, because I am crazy, my Dad lived. He has also done a lot of good with the time he's gotten, including ministering to homeless drug and alcohol addicts for decades.
What are the odds that, after Ron's accident, when I was completely broke and desperate, hiding it because I was afraid "they" would take Ron away, someone would send me an email? "Heather" he said "God has been letting me know you need help. I want to send you some money". I refused, the first time. The second time, right when we needed it, I got a 4-figure check that covered our expenses for months.
What are the odds that a living-single handyman would come to my church, bored out of his mind, and ask the pastor for a charity home improvement project to keep him busy (he was living in an apartment)? What are the odds he'd say this one week before my friend emailed the church, telling them about my disastrous bathroom? What are the odds he would take the job, and do it all for free? But he did, and I have a hotel-quality shower enclosure now.
These are just a few examples - God has always had my back. He always will. What can man do to me?
So, I don't worry. I try to focus on being a child who makes God proud, taking my thoughts captive, repenting when I sin, getting my God Time every day. Loving my husband, loving my family (including you), loving my customers, and drivers - shining God's light and love everywhere I go (I pray I do this).
I'm praying for you, daily. (((Hugs)))
Monday, April 1, 2013
Baby anythings
An online group was discussing infertility issues, and commiserating.
"I could care less if I have kids" I thought, but I didn't share it. It was in complete contrast to what everyone else was saying.
Everyone in the "normal" world seems to feel like children "complete" you; make you an entire person. That you aren't really a person until you become a parent.
Oh, really?
It gets annoying at times, when I worked at Target the Latina girls used to give me a really hard time about "propogating". I was in a stable relationship, had a job, why wasn't I breeding? I had to tell them, again and again, my husband is blind. His children would be blind. Those "girls" are probably grandmothers now.
Well, my coworkers (and others since) replied: they might not be blind.
Ron gave me a good comeback. "Fine. I'll have a baby, but if it's blind you have to raise it." That always shut them up.
A wise woman once said "If God wants you to be a mother, He'll put it in your heart." I never had it. For whatever reason, I was signed up to help in the church nursery every Sunday, for hours. Can you imagine watching a dozen toddlers? I only had one adult to help. It was insanity. I did that every week for 4 years.
Don't get me wrong, I had fun, the kids liked me, but I was always happy to get out of there and go home.
Another frustrating time: when we bought the house. "Oh, you're pregnant!" everyone exclaimed. No. I'm buying a house. I am not having kids, ever. Or, they would make comments about Ron and I "have to have kids now". No, I don't!
I don't want children! I didn't even want the kitten, when Ron found her! Baby anythings are a tremendous amount of work.
In fact, I told Ron one of my conditions for keeping the kitten: if she didn't disrupt my sleep (she hasn't). Now, try that with a human baby. Ha!
Now, if, after all that, I wanted kids, Gloria finally killed that. She was our upstairs neighbor in our first real apartment (the first one was a converted garage). She had a newborn,and boy, did he cry. He cried every hour or so, very loudly, loud enough that he woke me up, night after night after night after night... I thanked God when she moved. And it wasn't even my kid. I imagine he was a lot louder in the apartment. It was as bad as the dog problem a year or two ago.
Some people have the urge to have kids. I don't. I applaud everyone out there who wants to become a parent. It's just not for me.
And I resent being treated like a defective because I'm choosing to save the taxpayers MILLIONS. Yeah, millions. I have a close relative with this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_variable_immunodeficiency They have to get over $20K in treatments every month. Ron's family has congenital retardation (no hating, that's what they call it in the medical field), congenital (as in born with) deafness, AND congenital blindness. My mental illness is highly genetic, and seems to become worse with every generation.
I only had one "full" sibling, and he died of this, which is ALSO genetic. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Severe_combined_immunodeficiency
I have done society a tremendous favor by marrying a sterile man. He had the operation when he found out his blindness was inherited.
Oh, and for all the "God might fix the kid" - you're going to take it? All that, and pay the medical bills? Raise the little blind bubble boy?
If God had wanted me to conceive nothing would have stopped Him. He is God, after all.
"I could care less if I have kids" I thought, but I didn't share it. It was in complete contrast to what everyone else was saying.
Everyone in the "normal" world seems to feel like children "complete" you; make you an entire person. That you aren't really a person until you become a parent.
Oh, really?
It gets annoying at times, when I worked at Target the Latina girls used to give me a really hard time about "propogating". I was in a stable relationship, had a job, why wasn't I breeding? I had to tell them, again and again, my husband is blind. His children would be blind. Those "girls" are probably grandmothers now.
Well, my coworkers (and others since) replied: they might not be blind.
Ron gave me a good comeback. "Fine. I'll have a baby, but if it's blind you have to raise it." That always shut them up.
A wise woman once said "If God wants you to be a mother, He'll put it in your heart." I never had it. For whatever reason, I was signed up to help in the church nursery every Sunday, for hours. Can you imagine watching a dozen toddlers? I only had one adult to help. It was insanity. I did that every week for 4 years.
Don't get me wrong, I had fun, the kids liked me, but I was always happy to get out of there and go home.
Another frustrating time: when we bought the house. "Oh, you're pregnant!" everyone exclaimed. No. I'm buying a house. I am not having kids, ever. Or, they would make comments about Ron and I "have to have kids now". No, I don't!
I don't want children! I didn't even want the kitten, when Ron found her! Baby anythings are a tremendous amount of work.
In fact, I told Ron one of my conditions for keeping the kitten: if she didn't disrupt my sleep (she hasn't). Now, try that with a human baby. Ha!
Now, if, after all that, I wanted kids, Gloria finally killed that. She was our upstairs neighbor in our first real apartment (the first one was a converted garage). She had a newborn,and boy, did he cry. He cried every hour or so, very loudly, loud enough that he woke me up, night after night after night after night... I thanked God when she moved. And it wasn't even my kid. I imagine he was a lot louder in the apartment. It was as bad as the dog problem a year or two ago.
Some people have the urge to have kids. I don't. I applaud everyone out there who wants to become a parent. It's just not for me.
And I resent being treated like a defective because I'm choosing to save the taxpayers MILLIONS. Yeah, millions. I have a close relative with this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_variable_immunodeficiency They have to get over $20K in treatments every month. Ron's family has congenital retardation (no hating, that's what they call it in the medical field), congenital (as in born with) deafness, AND congenital blindness. My mental illness is highly genetic, and seems to become worse with every generation.
I only had one "full" sibling, and he died of this, which is ALSO genetic. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Severe_combined_immunodeficiency
I have done society a tremendous favor by marrying a sterile man. He had the operation when he found out his blindness was inherited.
Oh, and for all the "God might fix the kid" - you're going to take it? All that, and pay the medical bills? Raise the little blind bubble boy?
If God had wanted me to conceive nothing would have stopped Him. He is God, after all.
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