Monday, September 29, 2014

Random Thoughts On a Monday ...


I think maybe I need therapy. Not like in a, "That bitch is crazy" kind of way. Just in an, "I need to get over this" kind of way.

Stoney's friend passed away from ALS a few months ago and today his wife posted an update to his Caring Bridge website. It was a heartfelt note, written to let their family and friends know that they hadn't forgotten about them. They have two younger sons and it sounds as if his wife is struggling to deal with her grief ... along with trying to help two sons who are dealing with the heartbreaking reality that they'll grow up without their dad.

Reading her note brought tears to my eyes. You could just FEEL the grief and frustration in her words. She begged everyone to understand that they needed time and space ... and to remember that everyone grieves in their own way.

This immediately made me feel guilty for everything I've felt about J this last year.  I want to understand that people grieve different.  But I honestly don't feel like I can forgive him for writing me about another woman a week after we'd buried my best friend. 

That sounds like an exaggeration or a lie ... and I'll be the first to admit that I'll exaggerate on occasion if it makes for a funny story.  My dog obviously didn't talk to me the day of that snow storm.  But it made it a lot funnier to tell the story as if he had.  But my posts about J were never an exaggeration.  The week after her funeral, he was telling me about stopping by the bank branch his wife worked at because one young woman was giving him lots of attention, hugging him, texting him, asking if he needed anything.

In the months following all that, I got in an argument with one of our friends over all this. I said something in passing about him having a date two weeks after the funeral. She sharply corrected me and said, "It WASN'T a date." I angrily retorted, "No, but he THOUGHT it was, he WANTED it to be, and he was UPSET when he found out she had a boyfriend."

And that, my friends, is why I need therapy.

Who fucking cares?  I mean ... really?  Who CARES?

So he's an asshole?  So he's a thoughtless fuck who felt like he won the lottery when his wife died. So he's an unfeeling prick who flashed his bank balance (literally) in front of us.  So he's a greedy son of a bitch who bragged about the tax break he got from donating his dead wife's wheelchair?

What difference does it make now?  Why does it still hurt so damned bad? 

I can't think of anything that would help.  I've asked myself ... what do I want?  For him to apologize?  To break down, cry, and say he was wrong?  No.  Because, as frustrating as it is, part of me understands. 

She was difficult to deal with sometimes.  She was in a wheelchair and he was her sole caregiver. They'd lived paycheck to paycheck their whole life.  So why wouldn't he be happy to suddenly have lots of money?  Why wouldn't he be happy to not have to dress and bathe someone?

I understand all that ... I just don't understand why he couldn't see everyone grieving around him.  It's like from the night we stood at her bed in the middle of the night and said goodbye to her ... it's like at that very minute he decided everything was about him ... and no one else mattered.  Not me ... not Stoney ... not her brothers or her nieces ... not his sister or mother ...no one.

I just need to get to a point of forgiveness, I suppose.   It's just hard to believe that one friend is sadly asking her friends to understand why she's taking "so long" to grieve ... while another is angry that people didn't understand his need to avoid grieving all together.

Thoughts in my head. 

Meanwhile ... I pack.

How do I say goodbye to what we had?
The good times that made us laugh
Outweigh the bad.
I thought we'd get to see forever
But forever's gone away
It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.

Boys II Men -
It's So Hard to Say Goodbye To Yesterday

Sunday, September 28, 2014

Not Like I Couldn't Afford To Miss a Meal ...


I am depressed.  And puzzled.

So I haven't had much of an appetite for the last couple weeks.  I know ... no big loss.  The best thing in the world that could happen is for me to lose my appetite for about a year.  But ... I digress ...

I haven't had much of an appetite since I came down sick after the DBT concert.  I've forced myself to stop and get breakfast most mornings, but only because I discovered that taking levaquin on an empty stomach is a terrible, terrible thing to do. 

I haven't had lunch in two weeks.  Dinner is usually a little bit of whatever I normally have ... a little pasta one night ... a taco the next.  The night I took some Gabatoni's pizza to Stoney's was the most I'd eaten in days.

In any case ... fast forward to this weekend.   I made my favorite rice.  Normally I don't even like rice ... but this stuff is the bomb.  So I made it yesterday ... thinking how wonderful it would be to have comfort food.  I didn't even make any meat ... just the rice.  But it tasted ... off.  Burnt?  I don't know ... it just wasn't awesome.  It made my throat feel raw when I ate it, although I know that sounds bizarre. I thought maybe I cooked it too long.  Or maybe the can of beef broth I used had been old?

Fast forward to tonight.  I made a couple thin pork chops ... nothing special ... just coated them in oven fry and fifteen minutes later I had a crispy little pork chop.   I heated up some nibblets in butter sauce ... and I thought ... for a simple, no-work meal, this should be pretty tasty, right?

Wrong.  The pork chop hurt my throat ... it burned going down.  Not "too hot from the oven" ... just ... a burned, raw feeling.  It hit me that this was the same feeling I had eating my rice.  Ugh.  Two comfort meals that I didn't even finish.

I am depressed.  I love food ... as you can tell from my ample ass.  And to have nothing taste good?  Well ... wait ... that's not true.  Stoney made us grilled cheese for lunch today ... and it was really good.  No kidding ... I only ate half but it was buttery and so delicious.  So what was the difference?  The cheese?  The butter?   I honestly don't know.  I can't have him make every meal I eat ... hell, he doesn't feel any better that I do right now.

So ... I've given up.  I put the leftovers in a Tupperware container for work tomorrow.  Maybe by tomorrow it will be better. In the meantime, I can thank my guardian angel (who must be Richard Simmons in disguise) for helping me eat less.   Better living through illness?  As long as it hurts to eat, I guess I'll ride this train.

Love hurts, love scars, love wounds
And mars, any heart
Not tough or strong enough
To take a lot of pain, take a lot of pain
Love is like a cloud
Holds a lot of rain
Love hurts......ooh, ooh love hurts

Nazareth - Love Hurts

Saturday, September 27, 2014

Men Alone 2 - The KY Connection ...


Let me take you back in time.  It was 1994.  I was a young ThirtyWhat.  The worst of the drinking days had passed.  My co-ringleader had joined the Navy ... and so the weekly parties and binge-fests  had trickled down to getting spectacularly liquored up only on special occasions like New Year's Eve and weekends.

I was dating the on again/off again guy.  I spent two years in a constantly alternating state of bliss ... and utter misery.   It was a completely fucked up situation ... and to this day, I wonder if he gets what a complete mind fuck the whole business was.  Every breakup spurred an escalation of the relationship.

We dated normally for a three months.  Nothing serious just ... dates.  He broke it up because he said we were too close and he needed his space.  A month later he called and asked me to dinner.  This time we dated for six months ... and to prove his commitment he took me to meet his mother in southern Illinois and his father in Indiana.  We even drove to New York to meet his sister.  He broke it off saying he felt like we were getting too close and he needed his space.  A week later he called and told me he'd made a terrible mistake ... and to prove his commitment we started looking at houses together.

That last time was disastrous.   After several months, he told me he wanted to see other people and me at the same time.  He thought it was only fair that he got to "evaluate his options" before choosing someone to settle down with.  And hey ... I should date other people too!

It was awful.  I'd try to date someone else and he would immediately start showing me attention.  When he knew I was hooked ... only seeing him ... he would back off and again tell me I didn't own him ... that we needed to see other people.

During this period, I tried dating this guy ... we'll call him The Hoarder.  He wasn't a hoarder at the time (much) ... but he is now.   He's the only guy I dreaded telling Stoney about ... only because he was still loosely part of the group my best friend hung out with.  But leave it up to J to blurt it out in the middle of Buffalo Wild Wings.  Thanks, ass.  Um ... I digress.

I was dating the Hoarder.  We were both working at Suncoast.  I took random part times jobs around this time because I was bored and lonely.  I knew on/off guy was out with someone else and sitting around my house just depressed the hell out of me.  So I was working at Suncoast, a video store at the mall.   The people I met out there ... it was insane.  There were two guys who regularly came in dressed as Klingons.  There was another guy who asked me on a date ... and told me he'd pick me up in his space ship.  There were constant conversations that went something like this ...

I'm looking for a movie with that guy.
What guy?
You know ... that GUY.
What guys?
That guy ... he dances?
Gregory Hines?
No.  He's white.
Patrick Swaze?
No.  Older.
Gene Kelly?
No.  Ummmm ...
Fred Astair?
No.  Ummmm ...
Danny Kaye?
YES!  DANNY FUCKING KAYE!!!

That ... was an ACTUAL conversation I had.  Word for word.

Anyhow ... I was working one day and the Hoarder came in for his shift and gushed that I needed to watch this new movie called Clerks.  Everyone who worked there was knowledgeable about movies.  We were supposed to watch movies.  Knowing trivia and actors and release dates was part of the job.  So hearing someone say, "You HAVE to watch such and such ..." was common ... and I ignored him.

He kept nagging me about Clerks and one day he begged me to stay late after my shift and watch it.   He told me he'd rig it up so I could watch it on one of the video surveillance monitors in the back office.  He explained the movie was in black and white ... and so the color and quality didn't matter.  I don't know if I was tired of hearing him nag ... or if I just didn't want to go home to an empty, depressing apartment ... but in the end I agreed to stay.

I loved it.  I loved it so damned much.

Fast forward twenty years ... and I'm sitting here on my big ol' bed watching Clerks.  I honestly love it just as much today as I did then.  Dante and Randall ... Jay and Silent Bob ... Veronica and Caitlin.  The best people I've ever known are the people who laugh anytime they hear the words, "Try not to suck any dick on the way through the parking lot."

It's odd how much life changes ... how we change.  But some things stay the same.   Chewbacca ... what a wookie!

I may never get what I want
But I'm happy just to die trying
And I hope I ain't done nobody wrong
But I miss you smiling
And I'm looking for a cure
Cause I'm bored to tears
And I'm stuck in here
Stuck out here, stuck in here

Soul Asylum - Can't Even Tell

Baby Steps ... Baby Steps ...


A week later ... and I think I might live.   If I'd still worked at my old job, I would've taken most of the week off ... staying in bed and getting better.  But if wishes were fishes ... we'd all be at Red Lobster eating unlimited shrimp scampi.   I don't have six weeks of leave saved up at this job ... and so I went in ... coughing and feverish.

Stoney's been sick.  He missed three days of work and has felt like hell.  After work, I took dinner over to eat with him a couple times.   It was nice to spend that time with him ... see how he was doing and take care of him just a little.   Once we're living together it will be easier to take care of each other ... but ... in the meantime ...

I haven't accomplished anything this week.  Well, aside from crocheting.  I haven't packed a single box or cleaned out a single room.  I worked ... and then came home and crawled into bed.  I don't have an appetite and didn't eat lunch all week.  I only ate breakfast because I needed something on my stomach to take my levaquin.  I'd probably have lost a lot of weight if not for my love of IBC cream soda.  I'm trying to drink water ... but that cream soda feels so good on my throat ... so very good.

One night this week, in the middle of the night, I woke up feverish and sick.  I got up to go to the bathroom and my mind was racing.  I would never be able to move in with Stoney if I didn't get this house finished.  I started thinking of what all I needed to do ... buy more garbage bags ... get the 2nd spare room cleaned out ... clean out the basement ... get the front door trimmed ... rent a dumpster.  I finally had to lay down and take deep breaths and tell myself that I would work on it this weekend.

So today ... the plan is to pack and clean.  I have boxes ... I have packing tape ... it's time to get this stuff moving.   I can't lie ... I really want to lay down and sleep some more.  But if I work in shifts ... clean and rest ... clean and rest ... I think I'll be alright.

I'm alright
Nobody worry 'bout me
Why you got to gimme a fight
Can't you just let it be

Kenny Loggins - I'm Alright

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Not Well But Better ...


It's odd how your perceptions change.   For the longest time, whenever I went to Stoney's, it felt like staying at a nice hotel.   You know ... everything is pretty and new ... and not yours.   I'd always ask to stay over because I didn't want to feel like I was overstaying my welcome.   More than once I'd ask and he'd say, "Well, I was assuming you would ..." but ... I still asked.

Last Monday, I remember putting everything together to head back over here and for the first time it felt weird.  It felt weird leaving ... and that was new.  Then today, for the first time, it felt weird bringing groceries into my house.  I stopped to get pineapple juice and some cheese and pepperoni and crackers ... nothing huge.  But it just felt weird coming home.   I guess our perceptions change ... and that's life.

In other news ... I've been on antibiotics since last Wednesday.  Nevertheless, I was still sick as a dog on Friday.  We had a dinner to go to Friday night ... so I drugged it up and went.  But Saturday I woke up feeling absolutely wretched.  There were moments I literally felt like I was drowning in snot.  I spent the day either in bed or on the couch.

Later that evening, I was laying on the bed watching Orange is the New Black ... and I wondered, "What is that annoying sound?"  I could hear this ... scratchy whine.  The windows were open and I thought maybe a tree branch was scraping the house?  Then I wondered if something was wrong with the television ... so I paused the show to listen.

It was me.  What I was hearing was the rattle and wheeze in my chest.

Ugh ... that is never a good sign.  So ... I went to sleep worrying.  I knew that rattle ... I've had pneumonia quite a few times ... so I dozed off thinking that I might have to go back to Prompt Care the next day when I left Stoney's.  But in the end, I'm blessed ... because miracles do happen.  I woke up this morning and, while I still feel rough, I think I've turned the corner.  I have a wet cough that hurts like hell and takes all my energy ... but ... all in all ... I'm better.

Stoney took such good care of me.  He got up Saturday morning, went to the grocery store,  brought back donuts and chocolate milk, and put a pork roast and all the fixin's in the crockpot for dinner.  He gave me ibuprofen to knock my fever down.  He checked on me and brought me ice water ... oh ... and he showed me how to use the Xbox in the bedroom to connect to Netflix so I didn't have to watch Crazy Eyes on my phone. 

Thank you, baby, for keeping me alive ... again.  I'm probably gonna sleep off and on today ... but I think I'm making progress.  Viva la vida!

I used to roll the dice
Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes
Listen as the crowd would sing
"Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"

Coldplay - Viva La Vida

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Outbreak ... Day Two ...


So I woke up this morning to hear the first alarm of the morning chime ... and immediately realized  that I hadn't swallowed in over six hours.  My throat felt like it had been lined with #30 sandpaper.  I got up, used the bathroom, and tried to carefully sip a glass of water.  This worked about as well as attempting to drink sulfuric acid.  I gave up and walked back to the bedroom with tears rolling down my cheeks and the front of my t-shirt covered in the water which dribbled out of my dry, dry mouth.

I tried using the lidocaine solution they prescribed ... and I could successfully drink a glass of water.  I decided work was out of the question, so I dozed for awhile until I could get in touch with my boss and call in.  He didn't seem overly pleased ... but since I was contagious and it still felt as though I'd gargled with ground glass I didn't see an alternative.

By ten o'clock I was genuinely hungry.  So I had the brilliant idea to bake a Tombstone pizza.  Don't judge me ... classic sausage is one of my favorite guilty pleasures.  I hadn't had anything to eat in 24 hours ... so you can't blame me for fantasizing about melty cheese.

As a fantasy?  It was heaven.  In reality?  I had to swallow the lidocaine solution just to be able to eat ... and, with my mouth and tongue and throat completely numb, I was basically eating jagged pieces of hard, tasteless cardboard. 

I slept off and on all day.  And I think I feel better?   It no longer feels like knives in my throat ... it's painful ... but better.   I want bacon ... so that has to mean I'm better!   Tomorrow night I have a dinner party to go to ... so fingers crossed.  I've missed our friends and I can't wait to spend an evening with them.  Time to drink more orange juice ...



Wednesday, September 17, 2014

In Which I Am a Germ Farm ...


We got back to town on Monday and boy ... did I feel run down.  Heck, we were both run down.  I took a three hour nap once we got back ... and then, a little later, he laid down and took a short nap as well.  I played Diablo III while he napped ... and my eyes would not stop watering.  When he woke up, he found me sitting cross legged on the couch ... playing the game ... tears streaming down my face.  That was my first clue.

Yesterday I felt tired and achy.  But common ... when do I not feel tired and achy?   My ears felt ticklish ... and I just felt ... beat.

This morning though ... I woke up and couldn't swallow.  It felt like there were knives in my throat.  I assumed I just snored a lot ... dry throat.  It happens.  So I went to work and drank some ice water ... thinking it would pass.

It didn't.

By lunch, I couldn't even drink water.  So I drove down to Prompt Care hoping I'd get something to help my throat.  The doctor who saw me was dismissive at first.  "Everyone who comes in here says the same thing ... their throat is coated in glass.  It's a virus.  I'll look you over ... but bottom line I can't do anything to help you." She checked my lungs ... my ears ... my eyes ... and everything pointed to me wasting $25.

Until she looked at my throat.

She stepped back and said, "Wow.  That's bad."  I asked, "Can you see anything?"  "Yes, you have pus pockets."  "Pus pockets?  What the hell is that?"  "That ... is strep throat."

She swabbed my throat and sent it off ... and in the end I wound up with ten day's worth of antibiotics and a bottle of lidocaine to swish and swallow just so I can get water down and stay hydrated.  I texted my boss from Walgreens with the bad news ... and to ask if he wanted me to come back in to the office.  He told me I could go home if I needed to ... but mentioned how busy we were.  So ... strep or not ... I went back and finished the day. 

I am tired and worn down.  I am just ... beyond beat.

Stoney said I should go to his house after work so he could take care of me ... and I know a time is coming soon when we'll live together and I can't protect him from my germs ... but for now I still can.   I love him ... and this blows.  I'm not giving him strep throat if I can help it.

So we'll see what tomorrow brings.  Right now I need a hot shower ... and with a little luck ... tomorrow will be better.

Your love is like bad madicine
Bad medicine is what I need
Shake it up, just like bad madicine
There ain't no doctor that can
Cure my disease

Bon Jovi - Bad Medicine

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Closing Those Loopholes ...


Last weekend, Stoney and I were laying in bed talking.  I mused aloud something along the lines of wishing I could find a genie in a lamp ... because I would wish to be the weight I was in high school.  Stoney said he thought most of us would wish the same thing ... because we felt like we were chunky in high school ... but now wish we could be that weight again.

I've been thinking about that wish off and on all weekend.

It wouldn't be enough to wish to return to my high school weight.   Wishing is tricky.   That kind of wish would only lead to some kind of fucked up monkey's paw situation ... where you suddenly lose an Olsen Twin's worth of weight ... but find yourself with so much loose skin you look like a human shar pei.   Or ... I'd suddenly be thin ... but find myself still carrying these enormous kidneys and spend the rest of my life looking perpetually nine months pregnant.

So ... we have to be smart about this.

I think the only way to make this work would be to wish "for the physical body I had in high school."   That way the clock rewinds ... my hair would become the waist-length red mane I had at seventeen ... I'd be thinner ... not thin by any stretch but tiny compared to now ... my boobs would no longer be acquainted with gravity ... and best of all ... my kidneys would go back to 100% function.

I'd have to specify the word "physical" in my wish ... otherwise I'd lose whatever maturity I've gained and end up drinking straight tequila like it was water again.  And as much as I'd love to have a big ol' peach margarita tonight ... wait ... let me clarify that ... as much as I'd looooove to be drinking a peach margarita tonight in a glass so big it would easily house a school of gold fish?  I would pass ... because if I had a do-over, I'd take care of my kidneys like they were made of spun glass from day one.

So ... I think I have this wishing thing figured out.  You know ... in case anyone has a spare genie lamp they aren't using?  Anyone?  Anyone?

Wish me love a wishing well
To kiss and tell
A wishing well of butterfly tears
Wish me love a wishing well
To kiss and tell
A wishing well of crocodile tears

\ Terence Trent Darby - Wishing Well

Monday, September 15, 2014

Look At That Adorable Lil' Face ...


So my nickname has been "bear" since I was a baby.  My family calls me Bear ... it generally helps to identify me in a conversation ... separate me from my aunt ... since we share the same name.  My ex made a point of "outting" my nickname on the Internet ... as if Bear was something humiliating.  Fuck that noise.  My Dad called me Bear.  It's a good memory ...

In any case ... the point is that I've always known I'm a bear ... I just never knew what kind.  I thought it might've been a polar bear?  Until this weekend ...

There's a commercial on television that shows an adorable little koala sleeping in a tree ... with text beneath it that says, "Koalas sleep between 18 and 22 hours a day." 

When I saw this commercial, I looked at Stoney and happily exclaimed ... "I'm a koalaAnd I'm undersleeping!"

This is a bit of a joke because, left to my own devices, I'd sleep upwards of ten hours a day.  Easily.  If I'm worn down or sick?  We could stretch that to eleven or twelve.  Easily.   Heck, when we got back from Champaign this morning, I curled up on our big bed to take a nap ... and fell into a deep hole for about three hours.

Yes ... three hours is a nap in my world.  Yup ... I'm a koala ...


Some folks say that bears go around smelling bad
Others say that a bear is honey sweet
Some folks say this bear's the best I ever had
Some folks got a bear beneath their feet

Lyle Lovett - Bears

ThirtyWhat Travel Agency Epic Fail ...


So ... let me tell you about my travel agent skills.  Because they are legendary.

Several months ago, we went to St. Louis to see the Drive by Truckers.  Right next door to the Pageant is a hotel called the Moon Rise.  It is a hip, quirky boutique hotel ... and it ... is ... nice.   Everything about it was classy ... from the lighted staircase in the lobby ... to the rooftop club with a moonlight view.   Our room wasn't huge ... but it was plush ... with an overstuffed chaise lounge and a huge, comfy bed.   When the concert was over, we literally walked next door from the club and into our hotel.  Stoney arranged that.  Those are his skills.

Now let's talk about my skills.

This weekend we went to Champaign to see the Drive by Truckers.  (Side note ... yes, we have other interests.  We have seen other performers besides DBT ... this was just a special show.  It meant a lot since it was the first one after our friend passed away.)  Anyhow ... I offered to get us a room ... since he did that for us last time.  Since neither of us had spent the night in Champaign/Urbana, we didn't have a preference for a hotel ... and he told me whatever I booked would be fine.

Hah ... shows him.

I went online ... and saw that the Canopy Club was located in Urbana.  Okay ... to start I would find a hotel "near" the venue.  I did the Google map thing ... marking locations and searching outward.  Since the club was practically on campus, a lot of the lodging options were bed and breakfast type places or student hostel type places.   I neither wanted to bunk with a bunch of kids ... nor did I want to rent someone's spare room.  So ... I expanded the search.

I found a place called Eastland Suites.  Their website was impressive.  Pictures of suites with full kitchens ... fire places ... jacuzzi tubs.   I wanted to impress Stoney.  He'd done such an amazing job in St. Louis that I wanted to be able to give him that kind of night.  Trip Advisor gave Eastland Suites four and a half out of five stars .. and an award of some type ... and so I called to make a reservation.

For the record?   After this, Trip Advisor can suck a bag of dicks.  They could suggest chemo to a cancer patient and I would still tell you they're full of shit.

Anyhow ... I should've known there was an issue when I called and told them I wanted the fireplace suite.  I wanted the big one ... the honeymoon one ... the one on the website.  The man on the phone seemed confused as to what a webpage was ... and told me they had two of the large honeymoon suites ... both of which were not available because they were being repaired.

"Repaired?"
"Um ... yes."
"Both of them?"
"Um ... yes."
"What's wrong with them?"
"... ... ... maintenance issues."

In retrospect, I think "maintenance issues" is code for "hobo squatters."

I stayed optimistic ... "Okay then, give me the nicest room you have.  Seriously ... whatever the highest end room you have?  THAT is the one I want."  

I now imagine the man on the phone silently laughing ... tears running down his face ... as he heard the word "high end" in regards to his employer.  It must've been the highlight of his day, quite frankly.   He hesitated ... but gave me a room ... a room he assured me was their "nicest." 

And life is an adventure after all ... and so Sunday we drove to our hotel.   I was giddy ... I couldn't wait for Stoney to see the plus room I'd arranged for us.  I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that from the road you knew this place was questionable.  It was obviously a converted travel lodge ... separate buildings ... each of the suites in a block of four separate studio apartments.

When I walked in the lobby to check us in, Jesse Pinkman's doppleganger was at the desk ... complaining about how bad the wifi had been last time they had stayed.  He was wearing a highway worker's fluorescent yellow vest ... and, staring at the black widow tat on his neck, it concerned me that the Eastland Suites hadn't met his standards.

I got the key and we drove to the back.  Now I'll admit here that there weren't any hookers ... nobody sitting on their porches.  It was more deserted than anything.  But when we opened the door, it was breathtaking.   Long, stretching water stains on the ceiling.  Carpeting from the Eisenhower administration.   The television in the "suite" was on the far end of the room ... making it postage stamp size when laying in bed. 

The bare light bulb with a pull string in the closet was a nice touch.  Unfortunately that amenity didn't make up for the fan in the bathroom that literally sounded like a small aircraft taking off.  I think I felt the floor vibrate when Stoney flipped it on.   To be fair?  I didn't see any bugs.  However, there was something on the sliding door curtain that might have been blood spatter.   I tried not to think about it.

Stoney was incredibly sweet about the whole thing.   He hugged me and said that life's an adventure ... and we'd have a great story to tell.   Honestly, we decided the hotel was just part of the theme of this weekend.   The hotel was shady ... Murphy's, the pub where we met our friends before the show, looked rode hard and put away wet ... and the venue itself was uncomfortable, at best.   The band, as usual was awesome ... but we were happy to head home this morning.

So ... since we've only traveled twice ... Stoney arranging a stay at the Moon Rise ... me arranging a stay at the Bates Motel.  He is batting a thousand ... and I am batting zero.   He says he'll get the next room ... which, given his record, sounds wonderful.   Although to be fair, I've set the bar so low that he could get us a room at the Red Roof Inn and it would seem like the Crown Plaza.

If the saying is true ... and it's not about the destination ... it's about the journey ... then this weekend was a success.  Because our journey was a blast.  Stoney is fun and easy to travel with ... and he made the weekend wonderful.  I'm the luckiest koala ... er ... girl ... that I know. 

I've seen the world, been to many places
Made lots of friends, many different races
I've had such fun around the world it's true
African skies with a Nairobi mood
I fell asleep in Tuscany and dreamed
The one thing missing was you

Janet Jackson - Runaway

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Frustrations and Cravings ...


I want to put this in perspective for you.   Let's say this conversation happened:

How does nuclear fission work?
I don't know. I will have to Google it later tonight and find out.
But how does it work?
I don't know.  I'll Google it later and find out.
Do you think it's alien technology?
Um, no ... but I'll Google it later and find out.
Do you think it's magic?
No.  It's not magic.  But I'll research it later and find out.
Well I don't know ... I'm just guessing.
I don't know either.  I told you ... I have to Google it.
Well ... fine.

SIGH

While I might not know the ins and outs of nuclear fission, I know it doesn't involve aliens or magic.  Likewise, I didn't know the answer to someone's question, so I was honest and said, "I don't know ... but I'll Google it and find out."  That is your answer.  There's no sense in discussing and debating ... might it be this?  Might it be that?  Because ... I  ... do ... not ... know.

Sure enough ... I Googled it ... and found the answer.  I found out how to force a certain install and fix a certain error.  I'm sorry.  I couldn't research it at work today.  I was stupid busy ... and I had to have my home owner's insurance moved by midnight tonight.  I was a little overwhelmed ... again, I'm sorry.

I know this person is frustrated with me ... and I'm genuinely sorry.   I'll fix it tomorrow ... or try.  I have a sleep study tomorrow night ... but I'll add this to my plate.

Sigh.  I need a nap.

... and a piece of cake.

Monday, September 08, 2014

Need Help? Too fucking Bad ...


I'm a woman.  And I like to think I can do just about anything I put my mind to.   I take on most projects with a zest and a confidence that I can finish it.  Sometimes it isn't as successful as I'd like ... such as the infamous "Night of a Thousand Juices" ... but most of the time I can pull victory from the jaws of defeat.

Sometimes though, I find myself someplace where I feel like a fish out of water.  Tonight ... that place was Lowe's.

I needed to pick up a new doorknob and lock set to go with my new front door.  Everything will be installed in the next day or two and I'd waited until literally the last possible moment to get this last piece of the puzzle.   Stoney and I talked about me painting his mailbox now that the weather has gotten nice ... and so I'd planned to pick up the necessary supplies for that project as well.

So far so good, right?

I parked at the end closest to the locks, as Stoney suggested, and sure enough, everything I needed was very close.  I picked out my new door hardware ... and then started on the mailbox supplies.  This isn't hard.  I knew what I needed.  I needed sandpaper to sand off the rust on the top of the box ... I needed a rust-inhibiting primer ... I needed a silver-colored enamel to finish ... I needed a few drop clothes ... and several foam brushes.

(Shut up ... I like cheap foam brushes.  They work nicely and you can pitch a $0.99 brush a whole lot easier than you can clean a $8.99 brush.)

I found everything I wanted easily ... except the sandpaper.  I wanted the kind that would fit Stoney's sanding block.  I needed the kind with the special backing that works with velcro.  I stood there for at least ten minutes ... starting at the sandpaper like a monkey looking at a math problem.  I felt the backs of all of them ... and they were all paper.  They had sanding blocks ... and the paper to fit them ... but none of them were like the kind Stoney has.

So, I walked up to the two guys hanging out in the paint department ... and my existence and use of their air immediately pissed them off.   I showed them the used piece I'd brought with me ... and asked if they carried this type.

In the same tone of voice you'd use to speak with the mentally challenged, the older gentleman with the longer, graying hair said, "Yeeeeees.  We dooooooo carry this kind.  But this ... this is a special kind.  This is for a power tool.  You have to look in the power tool section to buy power tool sandpaper."

I raised my eyebrow and looked at him ... the sweat trickling down the back of my neck, reminding me that I was both tired and hot ... and I politely said, "This is for a hand sanding block.  Not a power tool.  We took it off the block so I could bring it here."

"Sure you did," he interrupted me.  "You want the power tool supplies right up there, honey.  Go that direction."

I was so fucking mad there aren't words.

Yes ... that's where this particular sandpaper was.  Right next to the identical sanding block that Stoney owns.  Same brand, same color, same everything.   Why do you have sanding blocks back by the paint ... and other sanding blocks up by the power tools?

And, more importantly, why do you have to be an asshole about it?

Fuck you, Lowe's.  Menards is getting my money from now on.  And fuck you paint section dude.  You know that much?  You're that cool?   You bet you are ... so goddamned cool in that red vest.  You're a super cool dude, yes you are.


Everybody knows that you're just an asshole
Everywhere that you go, people wanna go
"Oh, everyone knows"
Everybody knows, so don't pretend to be nice
There's no place you can hide
You are just an asshole
Everyone knows, everyone knows

Eminem - Asshole

Sunday, September 07, 2014

I Can't Even ...



I love books.  I have an audible account that has thirty four books that I've listened to in the last few months.   There are several that I'm proud to have read ... the majority are pretty mainstream and common ... and there are a few that make me pray no one ever gets into my account.

Last week I finished Brave New World and Flowers for Algernon ... both books I read way back in school and thought it would be fun to hear again.  Then I started Orange is the New Black ... the book that the Netflix series is based on.  It's alright ... a bit of a drudge, but I assume that's because it's not nearly as gripping as the television show.

I started reading Gone Girl several months ago but got distracted.  I'm thinking about picking that up on Audible next week and making that my new work companion.  I don't know.  I'm just so tired.  It's hard to get enjoyment out of a new book ... or out of just about anything when all I can think about is that big, new bed of ours and my heavenly new blanket.

We'll see what happens this week ... my second sleep study is Thursday.  I hope something comes of it ... because I'm too tired to write much these days.

Thursday, September 04, 2014

Like a Boss ...


I have three special women in my life.  They are sisters ... I am their step-mom ... and each one of them is so special to me.  Each one is beautiful.  Each one is funny.  Each one is smart.   Both together and individually, they have made me a better person.

One of my girls is changing and growing ... and I am so proud of her.  It's hard to take risks in life ... and she is willing to take the risks you have to take to achieve your goals.  How can you not admire that?

We had a delicious dinner out last night ... and afterwards she came over and we hung out.  She helped me go through some stuff that needed sorting.  It was happy timing ... we loaded her car with an assortment of things that she needed ... and the house is one step closer to being cleaned out.

I love you, hon.  You are kind ... you are smart ... you are important.  The world is your oyster ... and I am proud to part of your world.

Many precede and many will follow
A young girl's dream no longer hollow
It takes the shape of a place out west
But what it holds for her
She hasn't yet guessed

Dixie Chicks - Wide Open Spaces

Tuesday, September 02, 2014

Why You Gotta Be So Mean?


Okay ... so I am going to feel sorry for myself for just a moment.  Please bare with me while I hang the crepe paper and balloons and throw myself a small pity party.

I work with a guy who is ... ahem ... different?  He is around my age ... married ... very loud and outspoken ... and very ... um ... how to put this ... in a politically correct ... um ... effeminate?   If you met him on the street, you would swear he was gay.  I'm not judging ... I don't care.  It's just bizarre to have someone who looks and talks exactly like Harvey Fierstein say, "I told my wife, Linda, last night ... I said ... Linda!  Don't put my pants in the dryer!  Cotton SHRINKS!"

I've spoken with him once or twice ... never more than a word or two.  He's very eclectic ... he's fun in an "odd" sort of way.   But we aren't remotely friends.  He knows my name ... but that's about as much as he knows about me.  So I don't know why ...

We were both walking to the copier/printer at the same moment ... both coming from opposite directions.  He had a thick sheaf of paper to copy ... I had a print job on hold waiting there.  I said, "You go right ahead.  I'm not in a hurry."  "Are you sure?  The copier around the hall keeps jamming.  I'm just so frustrated."  I smiled and said, "Aw, I'm sorry.  That's the worst."

He started copying ... looking down at the machine ... and I said, "I'm not in any hurry.  This has to go to the State and you know they don't make another run for two hours ..." and as I speak the word "hours" he says (over the top of me talking) ...

"I'm not remotely interested."

I looked taken aback.  "What?" 

"I'm not interested."

My internal filter failed me ... and I said, "Well ... screw you, buddy ..." and at that point he burst out in a loud, gregarious laugh.  "I was kidding, obviously ..."

At that exact moment, the copier jammed and one of his papers became wadded inside the feeder.  He loudly swore, "DAMMIT."  A girl who sits right next the copier said, "Well, that's what you get.  Isn't karma a bitch?" and was mirthfully laughing at him.

I smiled at the both of them and went back to my desk ... really on the verge of tears.  I just got done saying last night how much I missed my old job and my friends ... and today this flaming asshole does this whole "kidding/not kidding" thing that pisses me off.  Why be so hateful?  And rude??

He was angry ... both at the copier for damaging his document and my teammate for laughing at his misfortune.  You'd think I would've jumped up and pulled my job off the printer ... but I didn't.  I just sat there and listened to my book on tape.

Sigh ... I keep telling myself ... every office has assholes.  My last office did ... why should this company be any different?    I keep telling myself tomorrow will be better.  But I'm starting to dread going in.  I'm just getting weary ...


Someday I'll be living in a big ol' city
And all you're ever gonna be is mean
Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me
And all you're ever gonna be is mean
Why you gotta be so mean?

Taylor Swift - Mean

Monday, September 01, 2014

Fluff and Sawdust ...


I've had a busy ... but very happy ... weekend.  Lots of things floating around my mind.  Here are a few:

RIP - Rest in peace new fish.  We barely knew thee.  No ... seriously ... we barely knew him.  We'd had him less than two hours when we found him laying tits up on the tank floor.   Ah, life ... it's so transient ... and death is so sudden.  Speaking of death ...

The Leftovers - Has anyone considered that at the exact moment of the event, there were people who were genuinely unwanted.  The baby that was screaming in the back seat while his stressed out mother talked on the phone?  The noisy children who spilled liquid over their mother's phone ... while her unhelpful husband just sat there and criticized her for being upset?  The woman staring at the sonogram machine trying to decide whether to have an abortion?  Those people just disappeared ... at that exact moment.  Coincidence?  The fact that the cult is named the "Guilty Remnant" ... guilty for what?  For realizing they didn't want those people in their lives ... consciously or unconsciously ... and it's their fault that they're gone?

Work - I miss my old job.  I genuinely ... with all my heart ... miss my old job.  Not just because of the money and the benefits ... but because of my friends.  I had a dream about it all last night ... a dream that I was driving the same way to work that I drove for over a decade.  Dreaming about how I loved driving to work ... how I loved my co-workers.  We were like family ... and now ... I'm miserable without them.  I go to work ... and the work itself isn't terrible.  Far from it.  But I miss having genuine friends there.  I realize I've been at my new company less than a year.  In twenty three years, I'll probably have long-term relationships there too.  But it's daunting and depressing.

Home - On a (much) lighter note ... I am jazzed.  Really, deep-down happy.   Stoney has a lot of exercise equipment in his house.  He has a (very nice) elliptical machine ... a nice bicycle with training programs ... free weights (which I will never be healthy or strong enough to use) ... exercise stretch bands ... wrist weights ... and a dozen more things that I have no idea how to use or what to call them.   He has books that have really interesting, motivating things in them.  We were downstairs working on some project and he showed me how to use the elliptical and bicycle.  And I feel ... hopeful.  I eat so much healthier when I'm around him.  I'm really sensitive about how heavy I am.   I mean ... I have a big belly because of my over-sized kidneys.  That's something I can't change.  But let's not kid ourselves ... there are no kidneys in my ass.  That's soda and chips right there.  But he doesn't make me feel embarrassed or bad about myself ... so ... I think I could work out with him?  In front of him?  We'll see ... I feel happy about it all so ... that's a good start.

Moving - I've been packing.  I have four boxes of games and movies and such.  I stopped because I needed some strapping tape to fortify the boxes.  Stoney lent me a nice "tape gun" kind of thing and gave me a roll of bubble wrap.  And this weekend he gave me about twenty cardboard boxes he'd been storing.   So this week I'm going to wrap and pack my grandmother's china and clean out the china hutch.  I need to measure a few things ... my piano and the china hutch for starters.  It'll help us decide where to put things.  This is scary for me.  It has to be scary for him ... having someone moving stuff into his space.  But ... I called the door guy to get the date on having the doors installed and the painting finished.  So ... I'm making progress ... even if it's baby steps.  And I'll make a lot more here shortly.

This weekend was the official end of summer ... and this week football starts.  So ... have a pumpkin latte and a smile ... cause it's my favorite time of the year!  Happy autumn, everybody!


Do you remember the
21st night of September?
Love was changing the minds of pretenders
While chasing the clouds away

Earth, Wind, & Fire - September

Friday, August 29, 2014

Crawling From The Wreckage ...


Okay ... so two stories ... both related to kidney function.

Part one.  I knew I was supposed to be a) taking in my fluid and b) eating more bananas, oranges, tomatoes, pineapple, etc.  So Stoney generously offered to get his juicer out and show me how to make fresh juice.  I was very enthusiastic.  I'm not really into eating oranges ... pulp squicks me out.   But orange juice?  Yum!  Peaches?  LOVE me some peaches ... and although that wasn't one of the items specifically on the kidney diet, why couldn't we put peaches with oranges???  It sounded like fun on a bun!  Or, more accurately, class in a glass!

So ... I bought oranges, clementines, peaches, strawberries, blueberries, and a whole goddamned pineapple.  How is that for enthusiasm??  I took it over to Stoney's after work ... and after having the delicious meal he made, we proceeded to juice!

This ... ugh.

This is not my thing.  Have you ever had fresh orange juice?  I'm not talking about the stuff at the Florida State Welcome Center.  I'm talking about real ... fresh out of a juicer ... orange juice?   It is thick.  It is pulpy.  It is foamy.  It is ... horrific.

Peach juice?  Even thicker.  Blueberries?  Blueberries, when juiced, are the consistency of the cranberry sauce I get in a can every year at Thanksgiving.  Strawberry juice?  Not as horrific as you'd think ... but strawberries themselves are not that sweet.  So ... it was ... tart.  Very tart.

We didn't even bother with the pineapple.  I love pineapple juice.  If I'd tasted what real pineapple juice tasted like ... and if it tasted like the rest of it?  I would've sat on the kitchen floor and cried like a baby.

I was so disheartened.  I felt like the world's biggest loser ... and not in the good NBC/Jillian Michaels way.  I really could've cried.  The concept of fresh juice ... is absolutely nothing like the reality.  I cannot convey to you the repulsive texture of peach juice ... or any of it, to be honest.  It was gross.  I asked Stoney, "Why doesn't this taste like juice?  Why doesn't this taste like Dole or Tropicana???"

He explained about how they add water and sugar ... lots of sugar.  So what I'm used to being juice is basically juice-flavored sugar water.  We tried adding filtered water to it ... ugh.  It's just so bad.

It was depressing ... only because I felt like I let everyone down ... from my nephrologist to me to Stoney ... everybody.   We ended the night laying in bed ... listening to a thunderstorm rage outside ... while we tried a little bag of Lay's Mac and Cheese potato chips ... and I drank a Capri Sun. 

I know what you're thinking ... "Capri Sun???  What the hell happened to fresh juice?!"  My answer?  Fuck it ... if you're going to fail?  You might as well fail spectacularly.

Part two?  Part of the "Kick This Kidney Issue In The Butt" campaign is my new medicine.  Lasix is a water pill ... not much different than the hydrochlorothiazide I used to take ... just stronger.   The doctor suggested I break the pill in half ... and take the first half in the morning ... the second in the afternoon.  That is what I did Thursday.

Know what happens when you take a water pill in the afternoon?  You piss ... every hour ... on the hour ... all goddamned night long.  I am not kidding.  I am not exaggerating.  10:30?  Piss.  11:45?  Piss.  12:35?  Piss  EVERY HOUR.  By two o'clock, I stopped being mad or frustrated ... I literally just gave up.  I knew it was the meds ... I knew it was inevitable ... so I just got up and peed.  Again.  And again.

So this morning I wake up ... and I am exhausted.  Exhausted isn't the word.  I'm the walking dead.  I go to work and decide, "Fuck this shit ... I'm taking the whole pill in the morning ... then I can pee all day long and sleep all night."  That's not necessarily a bad plan.   However, it is a bad plan when you don't eat anything before you take it ... and you only eat a handful of mac and cheese chips after you take it.   Such a bad plan.

I was nauseous.  My head was woozy.  My stomach was wonky.  Not only was I sick from the medicine, I was tired.  I just wanted to go back to bed

My boss said it was fine ... we were slow and it was the day before a holiday weekend.  He said to head out at 11:30 ... and so I texted Stoney to tell him I was leaving work in case he needed me.  He said, "Why don't you head to my house?  You can play Diablo if you feel up to it ..."

And so ... I spent the afternoon ... relaxing on his couch ... playing Diablo ... laying in the big new bed when I got sleepy and/or queasy.  I made us an electric skillet full of steak fried rice ... but didn't feel well enough to each much of it.   Nausea aside ... it was a pretty wonderful day.

So thank you Stoney for letting me crash at your house ...it made all the difference in the world.  I owe you one ...

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Step by Step ... Rung by Rung ...


So ... I could dwell on the bad news ... or focus on what's positive.

What's bad?  My creatinine number is up.   I've gone from 2.2 to 2.6 ... and, if you plug the numbers into a GFR calculator, that means I've gone from 24% to 20% ... in about three months.  That's not good news.  Nor is it good news that my parathyroid numbers are out of whack ... along with my Vitamin D numbers.  I'm already taking a prescription for a once-a-month mega dose of Vitamin D ... and the doctor's suggestion was to keep taking it and "get a little sun" ...

Okay so ... good news?  I've lost five pounds.  Which isn't much ... but it's something.  I'm still not anemic ... that's very good news.  My blood pressure was still high ... but not stupid high like it was earlier this year.  So ...

Tomorrow I start taking a different dose of my blood pressure medication ... plus I start on a water pill.  At 20%, I'm too far along for hydrochlorothiazide to help.  At this point it has to be something in the Lasix family.  The good thing about Lasix is it pulls the water and salt from you ... the problem with Lasix is that it also pulls potassium.  I'm already having foot and leg cramps?  So I have to go to the lab in a week so they can check those numbers.

The problem with PKD ... with anything like this, I suppose ... is that our bodies are like dominos.  The PKD throws off the parathyroid ... which throws off Vitamin D ... which throws off calcium ... which causes osteoporosis.   PKD causes high blood pressure ... which causes heart disease ... which causes kidney failure.  It's just a maddening loop ... one thing leading to another.

But ... I'm listening to my doctors.  I pulled out one of my kidney diet cookbooks and made some cherry bread pudding from it last weekend.   I bought some bananas and oranges ... which I'm supposed to start eating every day.  Once I start the Lasix I have to start drinking more fluid ... so tomorrow I'm taking the water bottle Stoney gave me to work and make myself drink water throughout the day.

In one month we're going to  test my numbers again.  She's hoping the new meds bring my function numbers up.  The unspoken part of that plan ... is that if my GFR keeps going down, then she needs to know that as soon as possible too.

I haven't told Mom yet ... I'm not ready for that discussion.  But I told Stoney.  I still have hope ... and next month I go in for my second sleep study ... this time using a CPAP.  The doctor is super excited about that ... because apnea causes high blood pressure and using a CPAP might help all my issues as well.

Step by step ... tomorrow I eat a banana for breakfast and take my first Lasix ...


All I want from tomorrow
Is to get it better than today
Step by step, one by one
Higher and higher
Step by step, rung by rung
Climbing Jacob's Ladder

Huey Lewis & the News -
Jacob's Ladder

Monday, August 25, 2014

So Thankful ... So Grateful ...


So ... I want to bitch and moan and rant and rave about the Witch Bitch from the other day ... about how she held an order back for two hours ... and about how the CSR called me personally, eight minutes before the state closed, begging me to fix it ... and about how, rather than be ashamed that she held onto a finished job for two hours, called me and chewed me out about "paying twice" for an order rather than asking her if she'd finished it.

I want to point out what a fucknut that person is ... and how frustrating it is to work with someone who spends their time nit picking and blaming other for their mistakes.

But ... I won't.  I have bigger fish to fry.

On Saturday, I walked into Stoney's house with several bags of groceries ... and, as he helped me and took some of them and we walked to the kitchen, I noticed a vase of roses on his coffee table.

Me:  You got flowers?
Him:  They're for you!
Me (skeptical):  Really?
Him:  Yes!  I saw them at the store and thought, "She needs some roses!"
Me (skeptical):  Really?
Him:  Yes!  And look in the fridge ...
Me (looking)
Him:  Chicken wings!  I'm going to grill your favorite wings for you this afternoon!
Me (skeptical):  Really?
Him:  Yes!
Me:  Are you dumping me?
Him:  That's an odd way to come at this.
Me:  It's all just so ... wonderful.  Are you sure this isn't one of those "giving a dog a bunch of treats right before you take them to the vet to put them down" type things?
Him:  You have issues ...

Yes ... I clearly have issues.  Cause I should've just jumped in his arms and said, "Thank you, baby!!"

The whole weekend was wonderful.  Beautiful, red roses ... my favorite grilled chicken wings ... Spongebob mac and cheese (hey, I love shaped mac and cheese ... don't be a hater).  Saturday evening he bought me Diablo III for the Xbox One ... cause he knows his girl is queen of the nerds.  Then, on Sunday, while I played like six hours of Diablo, he made the most delicious chicken and noodles.

He gave me a wonderful weekend.   Thank you, hon ... you're the best!

Hey ... guess what?   I love you!

I want to thank you
For giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you
Is having the best day of my life

Dido - Thank You

Friday, August 22, 2014

Oh God Make It Stop ...


So this week, I've been working in the deepest bowels of hell. 

I have a big, fat Audible account.  I usually listen to one book per week on average.  Sometimes it's more ... sometimes it's less ... much less when I was in the middle of A Song of Ice and Fire books.  Anyhow, last week I made the horrible decision to download the Audible version of "Fifty Shades of Gray." 

Don't judge me too harshly.  I've read the trilogy ... so I know how shitty the books are overall.  But I've been having a hard time at work ... and I thought ... what the hell?  Maybe listening to something sexy will take my mind off the high blood pressure, stomach pains, and eye twitch I've developed.

It ... is ... horrible.   Worse than horrible.  I need a thesaurus to find a word that can adequately express what a steaming pile of horse shit this thing is.

The problem is mainly the narration.  They chose a young woman who sounds like she was picked out of a Freshman Mixer at a sorority house just outside of Knoxville.  Imagine the phrase, "I don't make love.  I fuck ... hard."   Okay, now imagine that phrase as read by Hanna Montana.

How sexy is that?

The answer?  Not ... at ... all.  Not in the least little bit.  In fact, it has the opposite effect.   I basically wanted to take a hot shower and scrub away the bad feelings.

I've yet to delete a book without finishing it ... so I've simply put Audible aside for now.  I've been listening to my Coast to Coast AM subscription every day.   And after a week of this, I can't decide which is worse ... hour upon hour of big foot and alien abduction stories ... or listening to Hanna Montana describing the removal of a tampon as a sex act.

It's lose/lose people ...


And we can't stop
And we won't stop
We run things, things don't run we
Don't take nothing from nobody
Yeah, yeah

Miley Cyrus - We Can't Stop

Thursday, August 21, 2014

My Own, Personal Hell ...


I am part of a very small team at work.  Two people.  There are a lot of backups ... people who jump in and help from time to time when things get particularly busy.  But fundamentally it comes down to just me and my teammate.

My teammate is on his honeymoon.  He's out until the end of the month.  He was out earlier this month for a few days for the wedding ... and I thought that was bad.  Silly me.  I had no ... Earthly ... idea.

There's a woman who works on the west coast who is part of our backup team.  She's worked for the  company for over twenty years ... and has a very high opinion of herself.  Just ask ... she's more than happy to tell you.  In fact ... don't ask ... it won't matter.  She'll still tell you.

I've worked at my new job for ten months now.  And somehow I've managed to do it pretty darned well.  At least I thought I did ... until the Wicked Witch of the West picked up my scent.  Ever since my teammate went on his honeymoon, she's contacted me every day to point out something I've done wrong ... whether it's calling to counsel me on "best practices" ... or jumping onto an order to answer a question that didn't involve her ... or e-mailing me pages out of the corporate handbook.

I am not exaggerating this.  It is fucking ridiculous.  I'm to the point of tears ... and when I cry ... I get angry.

Today I made the mistake of joking with someone that she'd actually gone all day without contacting me.  I jinxed myself ... because at 5:25 she IM'ed me to ask me to call her before I left at 5:30.  She then proceeded to politely chew me out.

There were three large orders that said, "Do not invoice until the CSR has coded in the discount."  So I waited ... and when I looked and saw a discount, I invoiced out my lines.

Witch Bitch called to tell me that although there was a discount ... it wasn't the right discount.  So now she was having to re-invoice everything I'd done on that order.  She let me know that I should've verified that the discount was correct before proceeding.

I sat there ... my eye twitching ... letting her finish and not interrupting.  When she finally let go of the large chunk of ass she'd had in her teeth, I quietly asked, "Do you think maybe the CSR could've written a second note to say, "This is ready to invoice?"  She then spent five minutes lecturing me on how terribly busy the CSRs are ... and how it's our job to make their job easier.

I'm the only goddamned person doing the job of two people.  I haven't had a morning or afternoon break all week.  I've taken calls on my lunch hours.  I've worked late twice.  But by all means ... let me make someone else's job easier.

My team leader was walking to the bathroom and saw me as I hung up the phone.  I don't know what I looked like ... but it couldn't have been good.  He pulled up a chair and wanted to know what was going on.

I told him everything ... but I can't imagine anything will change.  On Tuesday I showed him the note she left me that said I shouldn't be bothering the CSRs with questions.  Today she's saying I messed these orders up because I should've been asking the CSR questions.  I'm sorry a house fell on your sister but seriously, bitch ... pick a goddamned side and stick with it.

I am so frustrated.  I have to stay at this job until October so my cousin can get her referral bonus ... but after that, I'm going to considering leaving.  I can't take this kind of stress every day ...


I'm a bitch, I'm a lover
I'm a child, I'm a mother
I'm a sinner, I'm a saint
I do not feel ashamed
I'm your hell, I'm your dream
I'm nothing in between
You know you wouldn't want it
Any other way

Meredith Brooks - Bitch

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

I'm a Slow Learner ... But I Get It ...


I'm conflicted about how to write this.  I can tell this story from two sides.  Three, if you count mine.

So let's start with my side ...

Back in January, my general practitioner told me they wanted to do blood work to test my cholesterol and what not.  She told me that in order to do the test, I would need to fast ... so just drop by the lab on my way to work.   I am, at heart, a sleepy person.  I stay in bed until the last possible moment,  I get ready for work in around fifteen minutes, and I drive the shortest, quick route to the office.  It's not that I didn't want to get the blood work done ... I just didn't want like the details of how I was supposed to get the blood work done.

Fast forward six months and it's time for another med check.  My doctor mentions, casually, that I haven't done my fasting test.  I lied.  I told her I forgot.  She said, "I notice that your nephrologist has standing lab orders in the system ... your next check with her is in August.  I'm going to go ahead and add mine to hers.  Now, when you to get your kidney function tested, you'll have to do mine as well."  To make matters worse, she added extra orders to the original including liver function and thyroid tests.

Well, shit.

So now let's go to Stoney's side ...

Last night I was at his house and mentioned that I needed to make an appointment with a dermatologist.  I have a mole that is bleeding and acting wonky ... and I need to have it checked out.  He asked when my next kidney appointment is ... and I said it was August 27th ... and then I made the mistake of complaining about the long-overdue fasting blood work.

I guess he does love me? 

He told me I had to get it done ... waiting six months was terrible and I had to get it done.  I told him, "I'll do it tomorrow ... probably.  I mean, I'll try.  It's hard getting going in the morning but I'll see what I can do."  At first he told me, "You have to take care of yourself.  If you don't get that blood work done tomorrow, no kisses."  I laughed and said, "I'm not coming over tomorrow night ... that's fine."  He looked at me sternly and said, "No kisses all weekend."  I grumbled ... and said, "Fine, I'll try."

At this point I should mentioned the blanket I have at his house.  It is a large (large) over-sized, fluffy, white throw that is so soft that it feels like you're wrapped up in a cloud.  I think he bought it for me out of love and kindness?  But also because fall is coming and I'd basically taken over his football blanket.  I love my new blanket ... I love it so goddamned much.

And so he told me ... "Get the blood work tomorrow ... or the blanket gets it."  "What?"  "Get your blood work done tomorrow morning ... or I'm setting it on fire in the driveway."  "No!  You wouldn't!"  "No, probably not ... but would you risk it?  Please ... it's important ... get the blood work done."

And so ... I did.  Not only did I get it done ... I texted Stoney pictures of the outside of the building, the lobby, the lab cubical, the tech, and seven vials full of blood.  Likewise, he texted me "proof of life" ... a photo of my blanket ... laying on the bed ... with a sign that read, "Thank you."

We were joking ... but I was glad he actually motivated me to get it done ... and I was glad that he cared enough to have an opinion about the whole thing in the first place.

Now ... I'm going to tell you the third side of the story.

I got an e-mail today from J.  It read, "I heard you were supposed to get blood work done.  Did you really go?"  I was irritated.  I wrote back a short, terse note saying, "Yes ... I went.  I have a photo of the vials of blood if you need proof."  He sent me back a short, three sentence message that brought tears to my eyes.

"You need to get your blood work done.  I let K slack on that and you see where that got us.  You don't get to slack anymore."

He's right.  She blew off her blood test.  More than once.  She knew liver damage was a side effect of her medicine ... but her veins were small and it was hard for them to stick her ... and it hurt.  So she didn't go.

Pain is an understandable excuse not to get blood drawn.  But having an understandable excuse doesn't make her any less dead.   It doesn't hurt when they stick me ... I just don't like to get up early.  And not wanting to wake up early?  Is a piss poor excuse.

So ...

Thank you, Stoney ... for caring enough to make me go. 

Thank you, J ... for reminding me there are consequences. 

We aren't kids anymore.  This stuff is important.  I miss her every day and I get it.  No more slacking.

Monday, August 18, 2014

Better Is Good ...


My baby has been sick.  And it scared me.

Vertigo is common ... and I am logical enough to realize that not everyone who experiences vertigo is having a stroke.  But still ...

Stoney wasn't feeling well Saturday evening ... so after Baby Bird's birthday party and a little grocery shopping, I headed home around eight.  I'm comfortable around him ... but sometimes it's nice to just be left alone when you feel like crap.  And so I hugged him, gathered my stuff, and headed back to the North Side.

Sunday morning, I got a text around eight a.m.  That was the first sign.  Stoney never texts me early in the morning on the weekends.  He always lets me sleep as long as possible.  I was already awake ... just laying in bed reading a book ... but his text tone surprised me.

He'd been up most of the night with vertigo ... and asked if I could get him some Dramamine and a special pillow.  I was worried about him.  Terribly worried.

My stroke started with vertigo ... and ended with eight days in the ICU.  Well, it ended with a lot worse than that ... but anyway ...

I digress ...

I jumped out of bed, got dressed and headed to the store.  When I went to the house and he described everything, it was a little less scary.  He'd already been looking up symptoms ... and it really did sound like inner issues.  Especially considering he was alright laying on his right side ... it was only his left ear that was making everything spin out of control.

So I hung out with him ... stayed in the living room and read my book while he napped off and on ... checked on him while he slept ... because knowing it's probably inner ear is not knowing it's inner ear.   I asked him to smile ... raise his arms ... do the little tests that the nurses made me do.  And he smiled that smile I love ... and that made me feel a little better still.

He saw the doctor today ... and he should be better in a day or two.  It's just one of those things. He's better ... and better isn't perfect ... but better is good.


Everything you are
Falls from the sky like a star
Everything you are
Whatever ever you want

Goo Goo Dolls - Dizzy

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Return of the Mack ...


YAY!  I have returned!

Okay ... so everyone who has ever read a blog post on here knows that I have an issue with procrastination.  I can have a project mapped out ... to the point I know that x number of items must be completed x number of days per week ... and every day I will find myself adjusting that formula.

I decided I wanted to make a throw for our friend's daughter's first birthday last Saturday.  I saw a neat pattern about a month ago ... and knew I had plenty of time to crochet the individual flowers and then put everything together.  But, as usual, I found myself moving that line ...

"If I skip tonight, I'll just have to do two extra flowers tomorrow."

"Okay, so I haven't done anything in three days ...
that just means I'll work a little harder this weekend."

It ... is ... ridonkulous.

It was so bad that last Monday, I realized how horribly I had botched this up.  I was so far behind that I was considering texting Stoney and calling an audible.  There was no stuffed animal or toy at Toys R' Us that was too expensive ... finishing this was simply not possible.

But I made a deal with myself.   Work hard ... as hard as you can ... and if, by Friday, you know you can't get it done ... then tell Stoney and you can shop Friday night.

And with that, I started crocheting flowers.  Flower after flower after flower after flower.  I got off work and I crocheted until ten or eleven.  I woke up and crocheted a flower before work.  Slowly but surely ... I was getting there.  I didn't go over to Stoney's to visit ... I didn't even go to his house on Friday night.  The finish line was in sight, and I knew  could make it.

As usual, I wasn't finished until the last possible second.  Friday night I stitched the last flowers together ... and whipped a basic, one-layered border around the edge.  The perfectionist in me is not happy.  I could've made a border with leaves .... I could've done something really impressive.  But ... sometimes we have to make do with what we have.  And I have no one to blame by myself.

Here's the almost finished product ... right before I put the border around the edge.


I'd like to tell you I've learned my lesson.  I'd like to tell you that I won't procrastinate or dawdle next time.  But there's just something wrong with me ... and there always has been.  When I was working on art projects ... even back in school ... I would say, "I work best under pressure."  And it's true?  I suppose?  I did paint some amazing things ... I made gifts ... I did all these great things at the last minute.  But only because I don't have the discipline to just get it done when I should.

And so ... the party went wonderfully and another project is behind us.  Now ... if I could just get that afghan done that I started for College One's wedding ... two years ago ...

Return of the mack
It is
Return of the mack
Come on
Return of the mack
Oh, my god
You know that I'll be back
Here I am

Mark Morrison - Return of the Mack

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Pet Peeves - Work Edition - Volume 63 ...


If you work in an office and watch Mad Men, it's hard not to be struck by the difference in culture from today's offices to those in the 50's and 60's. 

I got my very first job in 1987 ... two weeks after graduating high school.  I was working in a word processing department for a local bank.   Ten hours a day ... four days a week.  Skirts were required ... as were pantyhose and attractive shoes.  

I'd been working there less than a month when the order came down from above ... no one was allowed to smoke at their desk.  People were livid.  I remember seeing herds of people loitering by the back door ... large, sand-filled ashtrays full of cigarette butts.

Attitudes were so different back then.  It's hard to put into words.  There were no such thing as sexual harassment laws.  It was common to have older vice presidents and loan officers hitting on the staff.  I remember terribly inappropriate things being said to one of my co-workers.  She was having a hard day once ... and an elderly executive named Matt walked into the room to ask about the status of a job.  She was snappish with him.  His response?  "Someone's bitchy today.  You need something warm against your belly."

I remember going to her later ... urging her to tell someone ... talk to our supervisor ... complain to human resources ... something.   She had been upset and teary eyed all day ... but she shrugged it off and said, "He was just joking.  Let it go."  I was seventeen ... just a kid.  She was in her late 20's ... a single mom with two kids and a drinking problem.  She didn't have the luxury of complaining.  She couldn't take that kind of risk.

The world is a different place now.  There are no full ashtrays laying around on desks.  People in my office wear jeans and flip flops.  There's certainly no unwanted sexual innuendos over the coffee maker.  My only complaint? 

Headphones are a universal sign that someone a) is working hard and b) wants to be left alone.  One of my co-workers does not respect the headphones.  It is maddening.  She continuously interrupts to make stupid, asinine comments ... even when I say something passive aggressive like, "Sorry, what was that?  I was so busy working on this rush order that I wasn't paying attention ..."

In the big scheme of things, being interrupted is much better than having to work ten hour days while wearing pantyhose and dealing with trolls who enjoy hitting on girls their granddaughter's age. 

But ... still ... I can't lie ... it make my eye twitch ...


I Don't Care What You Talkin'
'Bout Baby
I Don't Care What You Say
Don't You Come Walkin'
Beggin' Back Mama
I Don't Care Anyway

Michael Jackson - Leave Me Alone

Monday, August 11, 2014

RIP Robin Williams ...


I spent my teenage years in a small town ... with nothing for entertainment but three bars, two churches, and a video store.  K and I rented every movie in that store twice.  Good movies ... bad movies ... horror ... drama ... comedy.

Some of my best memories are of weekends when we stayed up all night watching early stand up videos of Robin Williams.   It was after Mork and Mindy ... before Dead Poet's Society.   He was manic ... obviously high ... and hilarious.

As I grew up, Robin Williams dried out ... and mellowed out.  I loved him in Birdcage.  To this day, I can't help stopping when I flip by that movie.  He and Nathan Lane were an amazing couple ... playing off each other perfectly.

So tonight when I stopped by Monty's to pick up a sandwich on the way home, I was shocked when Mom said, "Did you hear Robin Williams committed suicide?"  Of course I thought she was wrong.  It was another Internet rumor ... a sick Internet rumor ... it had to be.

But it wasn't.

I can't say it feels like a member of my family died ... because it doesn't.  And if I'm honest, there were quiet a few things on his resume that I didn't care for ... including his latest sitcom, The Crazy Ones.  But it still resonates with me.  It's so sad that someone who brought so much joy to so many people didn't feel that same joy.

It's just sad ...


Everyone can see we're together
As we walk on by
And we fly just like birds of a feather
I won't tell no lie
All of the people around us they say
Can they be that close
Just let me state for the record
We're giving love in a family dose

Sister Sledge - We Are Family

Sunday, August 10, 2014

You Sunk My Battleship!


What a weekend!  It was relaxing ... but busy.  So busy.  Saturday, Stoney's parents were coming down for a cookout.  So we spent Friday night just doing some light cleaning ... baking some birthday cupcakes since Momma Stoney's birthday is this week ... nothing terribly taxing but still ...

Saturday we woke up ... I ran the vacuum while Stoney prepped the ribs ... I lit a few candles and made the bed while he moved the kitchen table and took out the garbage.  We had a nice lunch and a great visit.  Stoney got them to watch the first episode of Breaking Bad ... and although they claimed to not be fond of it, they texted today and they're already up to episode four.  So ... success!

Saturday night, we cleaned out his pantry.  Well, that's a lie.  HE cleaned out his pantry ... and I basically was just a helper elf.  I moved things here and there ... ran a couple things downstairs ... tried to be helpful and stay out of his way at the same time.

Here's the hitch in my giddiup ...

Last night ... I can't speak for Stoney ... but I didn't sleep good.  I woke up at least four times to go to the bathroom.  I had leg cramps and took some potassium at one point.  Around midnight, I woke up with a terrible headache and took a couple Tylenol.  I was cold so I brought an extra blanket to bed ... and finally at some point in the dead of night, I was so exhausted that after I went to the bathroom, I fell into the guest bed and passed out.  No pillow ... no blanket ... just layed there snoring.

This morning Stoney went shopping while I slept ... then we both went back out after I woke up.   He made butter pecan bread ... which is so damned good ... and I took a nap.

What I'm trying to say is that we moved and moved and moved.  Other than watching a few episodes of Parks and Rec on Netflix last night, it really was a busy weekend.   We did play Battleship this afternoon ... but he beat me ... so ... there's that.  I'm tired ... but my 90 minute nap helped.  Meanwhile, Stoney is completely wiped.

This week is going to be rough ... my co-worker is gone again tomorrow ... and at some point this week, I have to go in for blood work ... and it has to be fasting this time.   Oh, did I mention I have to finish that crochet baby blanket this week?

So ... it was nice to have a couple fun days ... in preparation for a week of drudge.   We worked ... but working isn't so bad when you're with someone you love.


Mr. Jones and me tell each other fairy tales
Stare at the beautiful women
"She's looking at you.
Ah, no, no, she's looking at me."
Smiling in the bright lights
Coming through in stereo
When everybody loves you
You can never be lonely

Counting Crows - Mr. Jones