Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!

I woke up this morning feeling not so good.  Kinda puny.  Ya know, just sorta shaky, sorta achy, sorta nauseous, sort clammy...just not quite right.

So I went back to sleep for a bit more.  That helped some.  Finally, though, I HAD to get up...even turning the clocks back wasn't helping all that much.  cuz i got so much to do and so little time.

I folded clothes, washed the whites (they're in the dryer now), started to get things together for the next few days...finished the paperwork for the NAMI folks I'll see tonight...got online and started to sift through email.  ya know, stuff, just stuff that has to be done.

yesterday i asked my neighbors if they could let my pups in for the night, out for the day, i got food (would they feed and water em?) and all that.  sure they would.  i knew they would, but it's always a good idea to ask.

so, i have a few things to do.  then, i'm ready to roll on down the road for the peer to peer mentor training (NAMI).  yippee!!

actually, I am feeling muuuuuuuuuuuuuuch better.  and i know this will be lots of fun.  so i am all giddy.

and it's at LAKE TIAK-O'KHATA which is soooooooooo cool.  peaceful, beautiful, and with it being fall, i'm sure it'll be even more breath-taking....

so, dudes, might not be around to update for awhile...don't worry, i'll buzz back in when i can!!  have a great week!

Yet another interaction with the doc's receptionist...

This morning, I checked my messages and my doc was calling to say that one of the reasons I am feeling sorta sluggish and gained EVEN more weight was because she needs to up my dosage of levoxyl (synthroid, the stuff your thyroid makes to help you do many things, not the least of which is to metabolize your rates a bit).  So, she says, would I please return her call and tell her which pharmacy I use.  She'll call it in.

I call the doc back.  Realizing she's most likely in with a patient, I figure I'll leave a simply message that the simply receptionist can grasp.  There I go thinking again.

Recep:  Hello, such and such a clinic, kinahhepya?

me, speaking slowly, clearly "e nounc e ating":  hello.  I am returning Jayne Hare's call.  I want to leave a message for her.  My name is Debra.......

her:  wait!  are you a pt here?

me:  yes, i see jayne hare.

her:  ok, name?  your's i mean.

me:  debra ........(I spell my last name after saying it, with a pause after every 3 letters.  i repeat the name, then the spelling again.  experience has taught me that people here add extra letters that don't even vaguely belong and substitute other letters where they see fit...say an "n" for an "m"...that's why i go nice, slow, clear, repeat.  sometimes it does the trick, sometimes it does not)

her:  k, what's the message?  WAIT!  is it Debra Kaye?

me:  yes, yes it is.  (i know that I am the only one with my last name in the entire region, not just this county.  let alone the ONE with the first name debra to go with it...but apparently ascertaining my middle name is of key importance)

her:  k, what was the message?

me:  "the drug store I use is ............"

her:  k.

me:  WAIT!  got my number?

her:  yes it's on caller id and on the computer records...

At which point I wonder if perhaps caller id has the SPELLING of my NAME (oh, hell just my name would suffice, cuz i know the phone company has it right, we made real sure of that in the very beginning.  me, cuz i wanted to be listed right.  them cuz they like to be able to go after ya to collect their money and it helps if they have as much correct info as possible, like your name, in all its gloriously correct spelling)...and how much of this driveling sniveling assinine routine is to test my sanity's bounds...which is why i have counseling today, to check and see how my sanity is...cuz i wanna make sure that i haven't been losing it or misplacing it or leaving home without it...

i've been known to do that before, leaving it in my other hat.  boy, oh, boy, what a day that makes for...sometimes, i leave it in the car at night, that way it's there when i go somewhere the next day...

kinda like the teacher asking if you all have your thinking caps on....i picture my sanity as a skintight oldfashioned swimsuit cap.  One of those thick rubber ones seen in old synchronized-swimming films.

Mine is a lovely shade of aquamarine.  sometimes it blends.

Taking the next step

Well, in less than 2 months, we've presented, supported, educated, and advocated to and for and with about 100 people in person.  I've taken a few weeks away from mass emails and other letters with info.  But, I'll probably start that again in this next month.

But, this Sunday night, I set off for Lake Tiak-O'Khata for the Peer to Peer MENTOR Education Training.  I took the education course in June and it was my first NAMI experience.  Now, I am preparing for the position of mentoring for others when they take the Peer to Peer Education workshops.  Cool, huh?

We train Mon, Tue, and Wed.  I imagine it will be very good.  But I think come Wed evening I will be one sleepy, tired girl.

Speaking of which....blink, yawn, blink...g'ni

Babes

Well, the latest is that the newest addition to my guy's family won't arrive til next Friday.  The doc decided lil Gabe could grow a bit more in him mum's belly, so they'll wait another week.  I wonder how she is feeling...last time I saw her was when my guy and his sisters (and their families) got together to celebrate their Mother's birthday.  She was just tiny, just starting to show at about 6 months or so.  Of course, all the women in his family are lil itty bitty things.  Making me a giant by comparison.

Speaking of giants, Roald Dahl's "BIG FRIENDLY GIANT" uses the phrase "How whoopsy-splunkers!" rather joyously.  This brought to mind an entirely different babe.  My lil one and half year old friend...

She's recently discovered that unlike her mom who only lets her pretend to feed her, I will bite.  My little friend approached me the other day with an animal cracker and offered it to my mouth.  Actually, she pressed it against my lips.

I (not having children) didn't realize I was supposed to go, "hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm" until she took it away.  Whereupon, she would feed it to herself.  I didn't catch that little rule in the book, I must not have gotten to the "Toddlers Feeding Others" chapter yet.

Anyway, she pressed the cracker to my lips.  I opened my mouth.  She reached her little hand into my mouth and placed the cracker wayyyyyyyyyyy at the back of my tongue.  For some reason I thought of taking communion from Father Neopachi (I'm not Catholic, but I visited my friend's church when I was a teen, seems I got hazy on rules even then, cuz when she went to take the body/cracker, so did I).

I waited til she removed her hand and then started to chew the cracker, "mm good, thank you."  She seemed sort of pleased and mildly surprised.  So she must have decided this was a fun game, because she got another animal cracker from the bag and was going to feed it to me too.  But I hadn't finished chewing the first one.

My lil friend's mother came back in the room and saw the baby "feeding" me the cracker (pressing it with increasing intensity against my lips) while I was moving my head further back out of her reach.  My friend said, "say, mmmmmmmmmmm, miss debra."

I swallowed and said, "I already did."  My friend looked really confused.  So I further explained, "when she feed me the first one."  My friend's eyes got a bit wider and she opened her mouth for a moment.  This has long been recognized by myself that I did something "not right".

Unsure of what faux pas I'd committed this time, I waited for her explanation.  That's when I found out that you're not supposed to actually eat the offered food, just to pretend that you are.  Well, I thought the roles were reversed, baby feeds adult...but hey this is all new to me at this point.

That would be a "whoopsy-splunkers" move on my part.  I think that's why my lil friend likes me so...I'm a lil different from the rest of the adults that follow the rules to the games.  I actually bite.

trippin to the docs, the blood draw OR a halloween tale

Wed.  8:40 am appt. Yea, for me!  I got there early.

The doc pulled a pop-pap on me.  THAT caught me off-guard, but it's not like I had to study or anything...I just wasn't expected to experience that jolly treat.  There's a reason we do this once per year and no more.  Although I feel better hearing, "your cervix is looking healthy" to which I want to respond, "well, a healthy cervix is a happy cervix"; it isn't something I devote lots of thought to.  This paragraph is probably the most I'll focus on that part of the exam, here in the journal or anywhere else for that matter.

Moving on...the nurse was new.  She came in to do my blood-draw.  I asked her what all she was drawing for...she told me, seemingly offended.  I said, "um, ya need another tube, without gel in the bottom."  She snaps the tourniquet on my arm and snaps at me, "been doing this a long time, I KNOW which tubes I need."

Ok, folks.  I know getting the nurse pissed that's gonna stick ya is not a good idea.  But dudes, I've been going at least every 3 months for blooddraws for the past several years, because the one drug I take could seriously torque the liver functions...that and I need to stay within range for max benefit.  So, I know which tubes LABCORP uses for which tests that I need to have done...cuz where my health is concerned, I just am a busybody and like to know what is relevant to me.

Besides which, I have been increasingly hard to part with my blood.  My veins are easily "blown" and I bruise super easily.  Once they get the blood flowing into the tube, leave the stick in and snap in the next tube, really it's for the best.

I say to her, "no, I'm serious, you'll need to do a tube with NOTHING in it for the (drug) levels".  She pops her jaw out and with clenched teeth, grinds out, "I know what I'm doing."  Nope, she didn't.

She is slapping away at my arm, thumping, poking, prodding, rubbing, sterilizing, and then doing it all over again.  I hesitate to tell her that she might as well forget the inner creases of my elbow which is usually where draws are done, and go for the lower (fore)arm.  I mean, what the hell do I know?  I must not be around when I get my own blood drawn.

Finally, she seems to have found something.  I think she was just determined that she was gonna get that needle in me no matterwhat.  So she stuck me.  Nothing.

She jiggles the needle around.  Nothing.  She slides it in and then slides it mostly out.  Nothing.  She angles this way and that.  Nothing.  She now is beginning to mumble to my arm and the needle, as tho my vein will pop into place and the needle will seek it successfully with a little verbal coaxing.

She then drops the tube and all the accutraments, leaving the needle and its casing bobbing in my arm.  She bends and then suddenly straightens, cuz I am guessing she remembered that you aren't supposed to leave a needle unattended in the patient's arm.  Not good policy, all kinds of things could happen.  I could have for instance, pulled it out and stuck it in her rump when she was bent over.  Not that the thought even occured to me, but I'm just saying.

She is very flustered by now and says to me that we'll need to do this later.  After popping a bandaid on me, she vacates the room and my doc breezes in.  I like my doc.  I interviewed her and chose her to be my doc.

We do the ol in out scrap thing.

Later, I'm in the lab.  Waiting for the next attempt at the blood draw.  The same nurse wants to try the other arm.  Fine.  Basically a repeat of the fishing expedition.  Only this time, it's hurting some cuz, well, there're nerves in there.

Then, after she has popped another bandaid on me, she calls in the reinforcements.  The headnurse of the lab (who has stuck me both successfully and not so, in the past) comes in...she assesses the situation.  Moves back to the first arm, and tries for a nice beautiful blue line to the extreme edge of my arm.

Nothing.  Then, SPLAT.  OMG, the two nurses actually jumped back like my blood was gonna spurt on them when it is in a contained butterfly tube.  But there is no flow.  Not into the tube anyway.

There is however a nice pool spreading inside my arm, under the skin.  A widening woman-made pond that is not going to yield any fishing in the near future.  But because of the jostle the nurse gave the needle, there was a bit more pain and I felt momentarily woozy as she pulled back.

Now, my blown vein is dripping blood unto the countertop.  I remain fairly calm.  I even make the dry suggestion that they could just pop my wrist and the nurse was horrified, omg, no, you'll bleed to death.  This as I am wondering how many CCs I am losing to the papertowels...and the red haz-mat bag.

My doc sticks her head into the lab.  Problems?  Umm, yeah.

She comes over, lemme try.  Sure, I say, go for it doc.  I bare my other arm.

I say, I know it hurts, but can you take it right there?  pointing 1/3rd way down my forearm to the side a bit, where there is a bright blue line practically pulsating at me.

Sure, she says.  Ever so gently, she inserts the needle.  The nurses are peering over her shoulders.  No one is breathing.

Nothing.

And then, YES, a blood-flow!!  As the first tube is filling, the doc asks the first nurse for the other tube.  She gapes about as though something will come to mind in an hour or so.  I say, she doesn't believe that a clear tube is necessary.

The doc deftly reaches under the counter and snags the right tube without losing a second and pops the first tube off and affixes the second.  She says to the nurse, "you always do drug levels in the clear tube, no gel in the bottom or any other prep."  The nurse flushes deeply.

I am happy to be finally through with my impression of a pin-cushion and/or bloodless ghoul.  The doc slaps another bandaid on me.  The nurse is protesting that at her old job they never did it this way...and the doc says, "well, LABCORP is particular, ya know...."  shrugging as she leaves the room.

I hop down from the elevated stool and skedaddle on out, feeling like I ought to have a sucker.  I mean the least they could have done was offer me a dum-dum.  I like the rootbeer ones best.

Another Yippittee Skippittee moment...

It's very rare that I actually awake feeling REFRESHED and that I have had ENOUGH QUALITY sleep that I can face the day without really wanting to ignore any and all other commitments, appointments, or even the phone (the ringer is perpetually "off" in my home).  So, when I woke up at 7am this morning (on my own, without the alarm) feeling bright eyed and bushy tailed, I had to do some self-monitoring for a moment.  After I got dressed that is, cuz dudes! it was less than 30 degrees this morning....

First off, I know some of you might be like, "7 is early for her?!"  Well, yes, it is.  I need solid sleep and very rarely get it.  I'm seeing one doc today and another next week, so I hope to get that straightened out.  Cuz sleep hygiene is such an important thing.  Do ya think I have been reading one too many medical journal articles when I start using lingo like "sleep hygiene"?

Yeah, me too.

Second, I am in an almost constant-mode of self-monitor.  It makes me feel better to think that I am staying in touch with myself enough to know what's going on with my various systems.  In a way that sounds sorta new-agey but with a mechanical twist.

But, ya might not realize this (so, I'm telling ya), but for some folks, that extra happy, weeeeeeeee phase of bipolarism known as mania, is the absolute BEST...they crave it.  Me?  I am scared of it.  Rather, I should say, I have a healthy respect for knowing that the state of mania and all it's zippittee-ness is extremely hazardous to me and my health, even my sanity.

So, while it might seem that thinking, hm, is this ok to be this perky? might seem to be odd for some; it's the right thing for ME to do for myself.  But on the downside, I have been known to go too far with the whole self-monitoring thing....I told my therapist that I know I need "help" when I've began to be wary of being happy.  Cuz, dude, life is enjoyable and those happy times are GOOD things...

I just need to remember not to get too swept up and carried away in them...

exasperated doesn't even come close!

To borrow a phrase from the Scalzi dude, "argin fargin"....

I have started this week in a deplorable fashion and seem to be stuck in the mire.  It ain't lookin too awful pretty at this point, guys.  First off, I seem to have started to speak in swahili or some other unknown language to these here parts.  An example of this can be seen by a brief re-cap of yesterday's visit to the Doc's.

Receptionist:  hi, can I help you?  (pointedly ignoring the drug-rep, who was trying to juggle multiple boxes of various sizes filled with samples, yippee!)

Me:  yes, I'd like to make an appt.  I'll need it for the first thing in the morning because I'll have to have a blood draw.

Her:  Well, we don't make appts on Tuesdays.

Me:  ...k, today is monday and I don't want the appt for today, or even tomorrow, it's just that I need an appt that is first thing in the morning, because I'll need a blood draw.

Her:  You can just walk in tomorrow.

Me:  ...K, I don't want to compete with other walk-ins.  I would like an appt.  I need it early, because I need lab work, including blood work.

Her:  Would Wed be ok?

Me:  Yes.  (BIG SMILE)

Her:  Ok, morning or afternoon?

Me:  Morning, preferrably first thing in the morning as I need to have blood work.

Her:  Well, there isn't an appt avail until 8:40.

Me:  ...K, 8:40 Wed morning is great.

Her:  I'll write that down so you don't forget.

Me:  Thanks.

THE OTHER RECEPTIONIST:  hey, don't forget to put it in the computer this time ok?

Her:  Oh.

Me:  (silently eyeing the drug-rep who has now managed to stack all the boxes and is observing this exchange with a rather amused expression, i would have been amused too, had it not been so damn irritating)

Her:  Ok.  Name?

ME (I give my last name, and spell it)

Her:  Oh wait, is that your last name?

Me YES (NO ONE EVER HAS THIS NAME AS A FIRST NAME)

Her:  Oh, wait, have you been seen here before?

ME:  yes.  I see Jayne Hare.  (cuz it is a multi-practicioner facility)

Her:  ok, (muttering, jayne hare, (my last name, including spelling it out) appt date and time)  Now, what is it for?

Me:  (blinking rapidly and breathing with a maximum amount of control)
She prompts me, "What's the appt for?"

Me:  Well, it'll be a check-up, including a blood draw, amongst other things.

She finishes with a flourish and looks downright proud of herself.  I prompt her for the appt card that she is still holding.  Then I ask, "Are you still in training?"  (I'm thinking THAT was a stupid question, but apparently not.)

She gives me a puzzled look, "no, I've been here 3 yrs now."

The day did not improve with the propane dealership encounter.

It's days like that I wonder, "Is it just me?  Have I begun to cycle inappropriately...?"

my vivi votes go to...

Journal of the Year:  Judith  Heartsong (love ya Judi!)

Lord of the Blog:  The StupidSheet Guy (St. G, ya done good)

Lady of the Blog:  My feelings are real...  (yes they are, and doncha go fergittin it!!)

Duchess of the Blog:  Adventures of a desperately fat housewife

Marquis of the Blog: Aurora Walking Vacation (p.little, a wide variety with a quirk, my kinda read)

Best use of Graphics:  GCS (even tho his approach has changed slightly, his journal is worth a visit, an add-to-your-alerts, and a few comments)

Most humorous Journal: DATING TIPS FOR PSYCHOPATHS (what can I say?  it speaks for itself)

Most Emotional Journal: Just One Girl's Head Noise (not so much for her display of emotions, so much as the emotions evoked.  pammee, you go girl)

Most Thought-Provoking Journal: My feelings are real...(and don't let anyone ever TRY to convince you that they aren't)

Most Educational Journal: Confessions of a Madman (dedication, MM, you d'man)

Most Inspirational Journal: Just One Girl's Head Noise (cuz she is REAL and sharing and we're all rootin' for ya girl!)

Best Family Journal: DUST BUNNY CLUB OF NORTH AMERICA (an oldie but oh so goodie)

Most Outspoken
  and
Best use of Attitude:  Screamin' Remo (might not always agree with him, but that doesn't matter, he gets his point across and usually with some real gritty intelligence...ya just don't find that very often)

Most Well-Written Journal:  Unhinged (hands down, you kick it girl!)

Best Entry/or Series of Entries: Day in the life of Shelli D (usu a good read)

Best Theme-Based Journal: Stories From My Ambulance (nuff said)

Best New Journal: Adventures of a desperately fat housewife (glad i found it)

Best-Kept Secret Journal: Lotus Martinis (no secret to me)

Most Missed Journal:  (sniff) A LIFE IN SLOW MOTION  (i think i've finally accepted she's not coming back in the form of slomo...and what a great loss to this community that is)

Most Creative/Original Journal: My feelings are real... (gutsy)


SO...from me...
  "My feelings are real.." earns three votes;
  "Adventures of a desperately fat housewife" earns two;
  "Screamin' Remo" earns two;
  "Just One Girl's Head Noise" earns two;
  and to all the nominees, congrats.

I'd like to add a special note:  there were some journals and folks that I love, that were not nominated (admittedly in part because I didn't nominate any one or take part in any phase except this final vote).  Some of these are found on the side-bar.  Also, Jimmy of StupidSheet Guy is a fairly new addition to my preferred reads.   MM (madman) and P. Little (aurora) are great to pass the time with.

And Judi, you ARE the best.  Make no mistake, honeychile...  This lady was the reason I began an online journal in the first place.  You'll always have a special seat reserved in my kitchen, pull up a chair, grab a cuppa, and we'll talk.

embarrassing, but shhhh, nobody tell him, k?

Ace has been a good dog since I've had him for about a month.  Well, he was probably a good dog before that, but you know what I mean.  There's been a problem which has persisted though.

Ace had some of the most high-octane flatulence problems I have every encountered.  Clear the room, bring tears to your eyes, leave you gasping for breath, and it lingers.  I thought, well he IS a little guy, comparitively speaking.  And little guys tend to have nervous delicate systems.  So I figured give him time to adjust.  Feed him the good food that seems to have straightened out Ziggee's similar problem when I first encountered him.

But I really thought four weeks would be enough.  Apparently not.  So I looked on line, cuz surely there are sites which discuss canine flatulence issues.  Oh boy and is there ever.

With all sorts of conflicting advice.  Feed him this, avoid that.  No, feed him that, avoid this.  Poor guy, he always looks so down-hearted when the gas passes and he has become a rather smelly dog, needing some sort of relief, solution, pronto!

One possibility that has been mentioned several times has been (gulp) expressing the impacted anal glands.  Ok.  Dudes, I don't even wanna go there.  Literally.

But I will if it means he will be happier and healthier and those of us in the household, including Shaddow and Ziggee, are also happier and healthier.  Cuz I am not sure how much longer my brain can sustain the lack of full-bodied properly balanced Oxygen.  That and Ace really is shamed by this.

So, shhhhhhh, ya'll don't tell him, k?

He's sensitive.

The new babe, Gabe

Ya know, as a general rule I don't use names (except mine and the pups') in my journal.  My guy is, my guy (I know, how original is THAT?  but it keeps confusion to a minimum so I'm sticking with it, besides, it kinda has a catchy ring, doncha think?).  MY mom is memom for reasons I will not divulge at this time.  Maybe later.  Dad is dad.  Cuz that's who he has always been.  Sometimes, just to irk my brother, I would call dad, "MY dad" which somehow my brother took to imply that dad was not also his...but I digress, yet again.

So I am breaking my own tradition by sharing with you the moniker of the newest addition to my guy's family.  His sister is due to give birth to Gabe in just a few days.  I'm so excited, I can't hardly sit still.  Cuz I might get to see him on Saturday.  And I haven't seen a newborn in years.  And maybe I oughta do something about that internal, maternal clock that's starting to sound off and annoy the hell outta me.

I went months ago and pawed through bibs at a consignment shop (the same one from which I bought my queen-sized bed).  I selected 10 of them.  Cuz babies use lots of bibs with all that drooling going on.  I even got matching "Daddy's little boy" and "Mommy's little boy" ones and just how adorable is THAT?!?

Then this weekend, my guy and I went to Wal-Mart.  I found a small willow laundry basket.  Covered its bottom and sides with a few layers of tissue-paper (green, yellow, and of course, blue).  Filled it with baby-boy things...

I took all the onesies outta their packages, rolled each one up, and tied a bib around it.  I stacked them carefully in the basket and topped it off with a card.  In the basket were also 3 pairs of newborn-sized socks.  An aside here, why do the socks have no-skid grips on them?  Does someone think a newborn is gonna hop up and skedaddle across the kitchen floor?

The card shows little diaper pins scattered across the front with a rubber duckie pictured front and center.  The outside reads, "Just a little something..." and the inside finishes with, "...for your little someone."  I gave the basket and all the trimmings to my guy to deliver to his sister from the two of us for Gabe, the new babe.

His older brother, who is now 4, asked his mom why they were buying diapers.  After all, he is a big boy.  His mom explained that the baby would need them.  To which he replied that he'd teach Gabe not use the diapers but to use the potty, like he does.

Kids, ya gotta love em.

FREEZING my ass off in Mississippi

Lest ye forget my whereabouts, I am located in the SOUTH.  As in the southeastern region of the USA...as in Mississippi.  Been here, going on into 5 winters now.

Oh!  ya think it doesn't get cold in MS?!?

Well now, lemme tell ya a thing or two.  I know cold.  I grew up in the Pocono Mnts of Pennsylvania, for pete's sake.  Ya know those little caps Laura and Mary wore in Little House?  k, well so did I, in my big house, with no heat in my bedroom.  I would weight myself down with so many blankets and tuck me entire body, head and all, under the covers, just leaving my nose to poke out so I could breathe.  Usually, the position I went to sleep in was the same I woke up in, cuz, well with that many blankets, quilts, comforters it's kinda hard to move.

It was so cold that I would set my alarm clock across the room just so I HAD to get out of bed (throwing my clothes under the recently vacated warm blankets so that the bite would be slight eradicated...ever try to put jeans on in a room that has windows that ice has formed on the inside of?  denim is frigid, even with thermals under them).  When I moved to Valdosta, GA, I returned home to PA for Christmas one year.  On the drive up, my skin gradually lost any moisture content and by the time I cruised past Harrisburg and meandered up along the Susquehana, my hands were cracked and bleeding.  So, I know cold.

So when I tell ya that I am FREEZING my ass off in Mississippi, I mean it.  I have a big-butt so there's plenty to freeze...but that's beside the point.  The point is, I didn't expect to have demanding winter weather in Mississippi.

The cold here is damp.  It penetrates to the bone.  It settles in the joints.  It shows up along about October or November and stays til April.  This is a cold that once it's in me, I can't shake.  I'm not warmed and thawed through for months and months.

Every muscle in my body spasms and cramps with shivers.  My joints creak and ache.  My nose threatens to run off my face and hide in warmer spaces.  Even my hair becomes frigid with the oncoming winter weather.

Visions of Bob Cratchet with his multilayered look, scarves, hat, and gloves to boot whilst indoors are not so very foreign to the actual look I am currently sporting (except I haven't yet rooted for my gloves).  Perhaps I should have titled this entry "got gas?" cuz I sure am limited on the propane right now.  This means I get to be really really cold, or I get to bundle up and stay in bed, or I get to run up my electric bill with the space heater I have, or I get to spend a significant amount of time away from home in warmer environments.

I'm terribly frightened that this winter is gonna be a tough one, tougher than most.  Cuz it's already this cold.  My pipes froze last night, I kid you not.  And what with the price of propane...ack!  ack!  ack!

The one really cool thing about all this, I have my three dogs and they are little hot-pads.  One nestles into my belly, one nestles into the small of my back, and shaddow, well she sprawls across my feet and ankles.  I'm sure we make for a funny pic, but it works for us.

Hope you are staying warm!

MY Mom

(special thanks to Andi for sending me this little number)

Ok, I know that I shouldn't brag like this, but...MY mom is superWOman!

Alright.  I'm gonna be 35 next month.  Ya'll might say I'm biased.  But, MY mom really is astounding.

And today is her birthday.  She's 29 (again--still, always and forever).  It's appalling that she has a daughter my age...

Lemme list out a couple-few reasons I think MY mom is frabulous.

First, there's the obvious.  I mean, without her, where would I be?  Literally.  No where.  So, there's that.  Ya know, the fact that she's MY mom.

Then, there's the childhood stuff i remember...the sacrifices she made (and didn't make a point to say, "i've worked so long and hard and made all these sacrifices...", cuz really THAT fact is just as important as the acts she did and didn't do, as the case may be).  MY mom graduated high-school, a few years back (but not TOO long ago, mind you, cuz after all she is only 29), on a Thursday (I know this cuz that school always grads the kids on Thursday) and began work at the sewing factory with HER mom on the following Monday.  Mom continued to be a seamstress for most of her adult life, my entire childhood and then some.  She worked lots of overtime, came home and brought work with her, cuz we had several industrial sewing machines in our dining room.  MY mom has always been a hard-worker.

And then there's the fact that MY mom is smart.  And I'm not just talking about book-smarts (although I'll get to that later).  MY mom raised me up to be a critical thinker (tho ya can't always tell, but that's not her fault, lots of that's my own doings).  MY mom was always open to discussion about almost any topic.  If she didn't know much about that topic, she wouldn't bullshit ya into thinking she was all-knowing.  MY mom just knows lots about lots, but then maybe most kids think that about their moms, but with MY mom, it happens to be true.

Then there is the book-smart thing.  MY mom went back to school, earned her Associate's degree, at tender age of 50.  You go, girl!  And guess what?!?  MY mom is now in school again.  Betcha she gets her Bachelor's by the time her 60th rolls around.  GOOD ON YOU, memom!!  (wink)

THEN too, there's that love.  MY mom has a remarkable capacity to love.  She doesn't tolerate shit, so don't try to pull the woolover her eyes.  But she'll love me true forever and for always cuz she's MY mom.

But even if she weren't MY mom, I'd love her anyway...cape, tights, and all...

Happy Birthday, memom. 

I love ya.

Bath Day at Debra's

I just couldn't stand it anymore.

The filthy.
The smell.
The wafts of aroma that trailed...
The mud.
The dried (and yet oily) skin.

Times a couple-few bodies.

eeek.

So, first I dumped Ace in the tub.  Scrubbed him down but good.  He stood still for it.  Though you'da thought I was traumatizing the poor guy.  Drying him off was okay too.  He seemed to like the attention.  I even got in and cleaned his ears out.  He obliged by cocking his head, first thisa way then thata way.  He got his special-favorite treat.

Then I dumped Ziggee in there.  He tried his damnedest to wriggle and writhe and slip my grip and plunge out of the tub.  But I held my own.  After all, he's about 5 pounds.  Soaking wet.

I cuddled with him while I was towelling him off.  He was shaking like uh, well, a chihuahua (which is in his genes).  I cleaned his ears out too.  But only after I pried him off my chest.  I don't know why he was cowering so.  But for some reason, baths just aren't his thing.  But all's well.  He was a good guy.  Yes, he was.  He sure was.

Then Shaddow eyed me up.  I eyed her up.  We both headed down the hall.  I went into the bathroom, she tried to turn the backdoor knob.  I wrestled her into the room and shut and locked the door.  Ya gotta understand, the lock is about my eye-level so I counted on it to keep her in.

I heaved her into the bathtub.  Here's where it gets interesting.  She's a lab.  65 pounder.  The best way to "bathe" her is with the shower.  So, I climbed in too and got her nice and soaked, me too.  I lathered her up with apple doggie shampoo, me too.  I rinsed her.  Then let her out of the tub.

Shake it off, girl!!  Shake it off!

She shook it off everywhere.

After I showered, I climbed out and toweled her down.  I grabbed a few more towels and dried her some more.  And well with a lab, ya just don't have the same dryage success rate as you do with say, a boston terrier or a rat-cha.  So, after I cleaned her ears out, I unlocked the door and let her out into the house.

Then I had to swab down the rest of the bathroom.  The floor, the cabinets, the washer and dryer, the walls, and the toilet all were coated with black lab hair.  I'd like to see a forensic scientist try to chart that splatter pattern!

So, now I'm fresh and clean.  I smell vaguely of sugared apples.  Ace is spiffy.  Ziggee is happy.  And Shaddow?  She wanted out into the yard post-haste.

So, come Saturday night, if ya'll are lookin for some good clean fun, head on over to my place and feel free to jump in the suds.

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Paul proudly posts on his own journals, too.

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Mississippi Dept of Corrections, NAMI, and Me

Well, a friend went with me to assist with the presentation for the Mississippi Department of Correction's training.  I'm glad she did as she had never seen an IOOV and she was a huge help to me as several things required "fixin'" (the TV/VCR and the flipchart and the improvised easel).  Also, she served to help me check my reality of the situation afterwards (for example, was that man as hostile to me as I thought he was?  Why yes, Debra, he was.  In fact, I think I would expect him to do his level best to rip you to shreds in his evaluation.  Thanks, that's what I thought.)

As I assumed, most of these folks resented having to attend YET another annual week of training for field officers.  I discovered when I got there that I was scheduled for 4 hours (?!?!).  No problem.  So I asked the coordinator of training for MDOC, when I met her right before the presentation, if they would be heart-broken if I let them out early.  She said of course they would.  So I did my damndest to keep them there til six.

No.  All kidding aside, I was scheduled to begin at 1.  But because the guys didn't really want to be there, we started at 1:30 when most of them straggled in from an extended lunch.  I told them I was going to give them a modified presentation because after the IOOV, we would take a short break, then I was going to cover some other information in brief.

Shortly after I began the IOOV, there was a gent who interrupted me to tell me that the problem with my suggestion that they should take someone who might be off their meds, self-medicating, etc. to the ER is that, well, who is gonna pay?  So I repeated his question so we ALL could hear it.  and said, let's focus on that.  First off, if the person needs meds, they aren't going to receive them in the jail cell.  Second, it has been FEDERAL law for about 15 years now that the ER cannot refuse treatment based on the ability to pay, especially if it is truly an emergency.  Third, ability to pay should not even compete with matters of health and life or death.  Tho it does and we are often the worse for the wear for waiting too long to seek treatment.  Fourth, most of our counselors, mds, etc. tell us to call 911 in the event that we are feeling suicidal.  We are told that we will be taken to the ER where they are equipped to deal with crises.  It's a good thing for me to know that if ever I need to call 911, I can expect you to lock me in a cell instead, thus triggering deeper panic and perhaps bringing on a psychotic break.

The gent glared at me and he crossed his arms like a petulant child.  I don't expect he'll send me a christmas card this year.  So, there might be a really nasty volitile evaluation, penned by him.  If so, I decided to take it with a grain of salt, cuz you win some and lose a few for whatever reasons.

Shortly after that, another crusty ol fella whipped out his cell, sent a text message, then followed that up with a cell call.  I stopped in midsentence and waited til he noticed, and asked him to take it outside, thereby extending common courtesy to myself and the other attendents.  He stopped out with not a lot of grace.

I am thinking that won't be a glowing review either.  Damn, and I was so counting on a perfect-pleasing score of having nothing but super positive evaluations and feedback.  But alas, I think the general overall mood was one of, I'm here, cuz I gotta be, alright?  YOU the speaker should be glad...

I did do the IOOV and asked them to complete the eval forms before they stepped out for a break.  I think there were a couple folks who did not complete them.  I think there were 15 or 16 people there, excluding my friend and myself.

The state coordinator for education and training of these fine folk, approached me afterwards and asked if I would be willing to come to the state convention next year and speak.  I said, of course, I'd be delighted.  And I would be.

Cuz, afterwards, there were a few folks that made their way up to me and thanked me for coming out.   They said that it was good to put a face to MI/BD (mental illness and Brain Disorders--not bipolar, cuz i know in med field they use bd to designate bipolar, but i used mi/bd to stress the chemical/biological nature of the condition in today's presentation).  The folks who approached me afterwards were very encouraging in their words and feedback.

One gentleman said that I have inspired him to finally do what he has been thinking of and that is to offer a support group for divorced fathers so that they can better understand how to effectively stay in touch with their children in reality, instead of in body only.  That was a real boost to my day.  I wish him lots of luck.  I told him that that sort of thing is needed in our society.

so, that was a quick overview.  when they came back from break, i told them about the education classes, and the three most common mi/bd, and our support groups here in the Golden Triangle.  They had that info on a sheet in front of them adn I said that I am certain that each one of them knows at least one person that could use this information, so please pass it on.

So, there might be a few less than glowing evaluation sheets.  I'm chalking that up in part to the general hostility that those persons might have had regardless of who gave what presentation.  Course now, I could be wrong.  They might have been mature enough to set aside their obvious contempt for attending such things, and actually paid attention and learned some amazing (shocking, but oh so true) things about MI/BD and those who have the conditions.

Anyway, there it is.  I hope that I did not encourage hostility with any of my own preconceived notions or assumptions that I drew early in the game.  But I think I most likely did.

oohps.

just checking in

Getting ready for Monday's presentation to the fine folks at Mississippi's Department of Corrections.  You think I can convince them that since the sight of one uniformed officer is enough to trip a panic attack, that the whole lot of them should oughta strip to their skivvies?  Then I wouldn't have to IMAGINE them in their whitee tightees....

Omg, omg, omgaaaaawd!!!

Ok, so today, I zoom by and remember to pick up the ladies that I forgot to get last Thursday...I go to the Starkville meeting.  It progresses quite nicely.  I chit-chat with a friend of mine.  That progresses quite nicely.  I love on her baby (who has decided that I am now in her good graces, again).  That progresses quite nicely.  I go to the Columbus meeting.  Say it with me now, that progresses quite nicely.

And guess what?  I've been invited to speak before 40+ law enforcement officers on Monday.  I plan to do an In Our Own Voice Presentation and take along lots of pamphlets and information on the support groups.  I'm sure it will progress quite nicely.

And guess what else?  I've been invited to speak before another group, in Columbus.  And I am sure that will progress quite nicely.

And!!!  Some local therapists and counselors want more information to spread to their clients about the support groups.  So that is progressing quite nicely.

And!!  I got some reimbursement checks so that is very nice indeed.  My gas tank thanks NAMI Mississippi and so does my printer (it was low on ink) and so do I.  So, it is all progressing quite nicely.

Now, if only I could organize the entire backseat of my car....there're pamphlets and books and files, OH!  MY!  and posters and hand-outs and envelops OH, MY!  I am thinking maybe I should change the title of my journal to "All things NAMI-related..."  or how about "MI?  BD?  Take a look-see"?

Ya know, I think I might be feeling a little too happy...

"...nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail shall..."

Well, you know as well as I do, we all make mistakes.  Even the post office makes their share of faux pas.  So here's the thing...

It's actually quite funny.  No harm done.

About a month ago, I got a call from NAMI-MS office to see if I could fill in for a woman who had to leave the area on short notice.  Sure, I said, just send me enough pamphlets and materials to get started.  So they did.

Well, I take my peach colored slips to the post office to claim my packages.  Mr. PO-Clerk takes the slips and disappears.  For a really long time.

I am beginning to think, maybe he went for lunch, break, or something.  But nope, he comes back and very apologetically says to me that 2 of the 3 packages are accounted for and if I could just sign here and print there and then sign here and print there, well then he would give me two of the three boxes.  Yeah, ok, and?

Mr. PO-Clerk says to me that he will scour the back, ask my delivery man, diligently search all the nooks and crannies.  In short, he vowed, he would live no stone unturned.  I was beginning to think I saw his chest swelling and then I decided it was a trick of light.

So nothing comes of it.  Til today.  Today, I was in my whitee-tightees, about ready to strip them off and climb into the shower.

When I hear a horn blast several times, my 3 dogs went into a spasm of barking, and I went into a spasm of trying to jerk jeans on and i grabbed the first top and shoved my arms and head into the appropriate holes.  The top turned out to be my PJ-shortie gown.

I tripped over the dogs and made it down the steps in one piece.  I go out the gate to meet the PO delivery man, who is rather friendly.  He didn't even smirk at my pj's and wild hair.

He says, hey there!

I say, hey!

He says, I got this here box that's been supposed to back to the sender cuz of the red-hand return-to-sender stamp, see there?

I say, I sure do see it.  It's the box that I was supposed to get like a month ago.

He says, That's what I thought too.  I looked at the date on the stamp and I said, that gal out there, she probably needs this here box.  I better run it on out there.

I say, Well I sure do appreciate it.  I took my lil peach slips in to claim it and they couldn't find it.

He says, Well, here you are.

I say, thank you so very much.

He leaves.

I think, ya know, I betcha it's cuz it didn't snow, sleet, nor hail on account of it being SUMMER in Mississippi that I didn't get the package til now, that the evenings are chillin.....

blah blah blah d'blah, sigh, blech

some days, it is a struggle to get up, out of bed, to contemplate taking a shower, (usually if i can get so far as the bathroom, bushing my teeth is priority), getting dressed is a choir, let alone doing anything constructive.

some days are like that.

i have fewer of those days, these days.

every day was like that for the better part of two years.  and i gave up on trying to explain to friends and family that pulling myself up by my bootstraps wasn't the answer, namely cuz i wasn't wearing them.  i stopped trying to explain that taking a walk was exhausting not invigorating.  I gave up on trying to find the words to describe how I was feeling, mentally, physically, emotionally.

now, i co-facilitate support groups for those with mental illnesses and brain disorders.  i advocate when and where possible for those who feel helpless and voiceless.  i educate various groups, including those who are mental health care providers.

and yet...

when it comes to friends and family, i've given up trying to explain, advocate, etc.  i think that's sad and wrong.  one of these days, i'll be brave enough, coherent enough to talk to them and explain with clarity.

one of these days.

not today.

Slightly bewildered

Subject:  Slightly bewildered because I am experiencing conflicting feelings.  I was so tired this morning, but cozy as I wriggled further into my nest of sheets and blankets and dogs.  I slept in.  It was really, really nice to sleep in.

But I wanted to get some things done before I went for my own counseling session.  It has been over a month since I have seen my own therapist.  So I really wanted to make sure I got there on time and all.

So I called all the folks I need to call about the NAMI Support meetings.  For the group here in starkville and both groups in Columbus.  I sent a few more emails about said meetings.

I afixed more postage on certain returned envelops that I stuffed with pamphlets and letters and info sheets.  I tidied up on a few last chores I needed to do before I left for tomorrow's convention.  I felt a real sense of accomplishment, along with zinging and pinging thoughts and racing heart.

I go to counseling.  I won't go into HUGE details.  But...

I discovered that I made the paper.  My former counselor clipped it and brought it down to share it with my current counselor.  I had no idea.

I mean, I emailed info but no one contacted me.  And I don't get the paper.  A friend mentioned something a few days ago, but I thought she meant the other Debra (there really is another Debra that is a good friend to us both).

Of course, the paper and the library were both closed.  A search of the archives online yielded nothing.  So I guess I'll just wait til next week.

Then I came home and my neighbor and I took turns sledgehammering concrete and digging dirt.  Ya know what?  Flying chips of concrete leave bloody lil knicks.

So, I threw my clothes in the washer (now, they're in the dryer).  I'm gonna shower.  I'm going to bed early.

Big day tomorrow.

Mood:  Actually, tired and reflective.  But those aren't options.  Neither are.

Music:  including:  The House that Jack Built; Son of a Preacher Man; Spirit in the Dark; I say a Little Prayer; Bridge over Troubled Water; Ain't Nothing Like the Real Thing; Without Love; Eleanor Rigby; and Rock Steady.

uh, and other witty comebacks

i don't know where to start, cuz there really is no beginning to this thread.  it's just woven right into the fabric of life, one episode after another, some sliding and over-lapping.  so i should have known better to slam-dunk 40 ounces of dark caffiene...at the time it seemed like a good idea, cuz i was not used to the whole "pre-dawn/being in a public place so early" thing.  so i thought caffiene would help.

oh boy WAS that a bad bad bad idea.  yes.  say it again with me. yes debra, bad idea.  first off, caffiene with my Dx is not a suggested combo.  then there's the idea that the Rxs are a good mix with caffiene (i very briefly thought of this as i washed down this morning's main meds with italian dark roast).  and then there's the notion that caffiene is not a good idea on an emp-a-ty tummy.

but, i was so busy doing my thing, that i did not realize that my hands were shaking.  my arms were shaking.  my head was a bit spastic, and then i realized my eyeballs were rattling about in their sockets.

ok, so, i get to the meeting, and realize i forgot to call, notify, and PICK UP several of the women.  smack.  the only thing that made it even somewhat ok was that it allowed us to focus on really giving someone the help and attention that was needed.

ok, so i'm stuffing envelopes and taping, and stamping, and choosing pamphlets (cuz very few places really needed all 9 pamphlets).  i got seriously hungry so ate all the wilted celery i had in the car (long ass, boring story, lets not go into it, k?).  so now i'm fidgetee cuz of the caffiene and the need to hop up and run to the restroom every few minutes.

my friend's child, who up til now has delighted in me and i am tickled with her, decided today that she really didn't like me.  it's a phase thing.  maybe.  so she was crossing her lil 17 month old arms and pouting and glaring at me.  and i had no clue why she was doing that.

i dash out the door, swing by the post office, drop off all these super stuffed, stamped, taped envelopes.  probably pissing the postal people off cuz i'm sure there is some thing i am SPODA do for bulk stuff.  and drive over to the other meeting.

NO ONE showed up at the other meeting.  I was early.  as per usual.  and it was getting closer to the time for some of the folks to be drifting in...and NO ONE was there.  while i was sitting there, going over a few things, making a few lists, glancing at the clock, i began to tear up.

after waiting around for awhile.  i left a message for the admin.  and drove back toward home.  sobbing the entire way.  i would get things quieted to a sniffle, then burst into big ol streams dripping off my chin onto my shirt, which was getting drenched.

i swung by my friend's place, who had taken her father down to jackson for chemo today.  and left a note.  and then cried all the way home.

only to find ace had taken off for parts unknown.  i went out to finish working on the fence and somehow he got away.  i have a smaller dog than he, who does not flee, although he could.  and i have a bigger dog than he, who does not flee, but could as well.

and oh! joyous wonders, while i am out fixing the fence....the place i adopted him from calls to tell me that i am a bad mom (k, they didn't really say that, it was just implied) and this lady leaves a message telling me to call her.  so i finish the fence and realize, i sat in poison ivy while fixing the fence.  and i sliced my thumb numerous times, but failed to notice that bright red blood was causing my fingers to get really sticky.

so i shower and drive over to get ace.  he is being held in a chicken coop (?) behind a trailer that has enough lawn bags overflowing with beer cans to start a recycling center right there...i get him in the car, thank the folks for picking him up (right out side my house and driving him to their place, can you imagine, k, well, think on it).  drive home with a seriously flea ridden, smelly, unhappy boston terrier.

i figure i best return the call to the place i adoped him from, so i call and they want an explanation and my whole brain tries to jump out my mouth and what comes out is this "erk" sound.   which i covered by clearing my throat.  and all i could think at that precise moment was, "uhhhhhhhhh".

it's days like today, that i think, i so can NOT handle having a life.

G'Mornin', Mississippi (blink, blink)

...yawn, sssssssstrreeeeetch...hmmm

the alarm clock went off before dawn, and i stumbled into the shower.  i had forgotten to shut and lock the door to keep ace out.  i heard the boston terrier's snuffle and looked down to see that he was in the tub, sitting as pretty as you please in the light sprinkle falling from the shower head.  ace loves the water, more so than shaddow my lab does.  which is very odd.

ziggee on the other hand was waiting for me to finish, get out of the shower, and he was busy wagging his entire body.  he licked a few droplets off my shin before i could towel off.  that's life with my two lil guys.

shaddow on the other hand, is much more sensible.  she staked her claim long ago.  the sofa is her's.  i just launder the sheets and remake sofa for her every now and then.  yes, i make the "bed" up for the dog and just sorta toss my own covers in the general direction of my own bed.

so, now i am sitting, surrounded with various NAMI paraphenilia (sp) at LJ's Coffee and Bakery.  C'mon down and join me.  The dark italian roast is superb.  you can help stuff envelopes.

NAMI update, on the local front

Anyone who has ever glanced at my journal knows that I am pro-active with NAMI.  They may be following my efforts (and those of others, I ain't doin' this alone folks) since February to get a support group for women with mental illness and brain disorders up and running.  And guess what?

Starting tomorrow THAT group, here in Starkville, MS; that's right, right here in the Golden Triangle Area...is our first women, consumer-based support group.

BUT, there have been two groups that are meeting in Columbus, MS.  Those meetings have been ongoing since the beginning of September.  This is another point of the the Golden Triangle Area.

BUT, wait, (you say) don't triangles usually have 3 points?

Why, yes, yes they do....

And that's why I've done an "In Our Own Voice" Presentation with the Community Counseling Services' Adult Service Providers in hopes of sparking enough interest in West Point, MS.  Thus, making this a true Golden Triangle effort.

I want to stand by you...

When the hurt is not even for myself, but empathy for a loved one and the hurt that she is experiencing; it seems that much more sharp.  I never really understood what my mother meant when she would say that she would rather take on my fevers and sore throats then watch me struggle to breathe as I burned up and drowned in mucus.  It is such a helpless feeling to watch someone I love suffer and not know how to help them.

Sometimes, I simply cannot help her.  For there is nothing to do but hope that she will be able to turn to me, when or even if she knows what it is that would help her and ask for it.  Then, I might maybe could feel like I was DOING something that could help to ease her pain.

I remind my self, it's not about me.  It's not about how helpless I am to help her.  God, just imagine how she feels...and I don't know what to do.  I don't know how to be there when she doesn't want anyone to be there.

She thinks, that if she asks for help, that if she asks for company, that if she calls, that if she involves anyone...that it will be an imposition.

Doesn't she know what a blessing that would be?  I WANT to help her.  If there were anything that she would ask, I would do my best to see that it is done.

And I just don't know what to do....and neither does she...I hope when she does allow me to help, that I'll be strong enough to be there for her.

Cuz, I love her.

And I want her to know that "Whenever you're in trouble, Won't you stand by me, oh stand by me" (ben e king pled it best).

1,500 (& sharing the stew-pit-titty w/ya'll, again)

Thanks folks, for the hits.  I just keep bouncing back, as Paul Little, the walking dude who takes in the aurora's whilst on vacation (I think that's what he does, along with lots of other stuff) inadvertedly pointed out.  Cuz I think each time I enter a post, or post an entry, or whatever, that counts at least as one hit, if not more.  So lots of these hits are mine, and ya know, that doesn't really bother me but boy I sure do like the visits, the comments, the little links that take me to other fun, interesting, and ssaaaweeeet places.

When I woke up this morning, I intended that I would drive into town.  Which I did.  I pulled into a Chinese restaurant which I hadn't been to in a long time, for their lunch buffet.  Since I was early, I figured it would be fresh.  Which, it was.

The weird thing was there was ONE available parking space.  It was right next to a Mississippi State Hwy Trooper's vehicle.  So, I gulped and sweating profusely, eeeeeeeaased my way in.  I opened my door carefully, got myself together with my money, my book, and slammed the door shut.

On my seat belt.

Dumb debbie, dumb.

So I thought, no problem, really.  I searched all my pockets, around, and under the car for my keys.  This is a bigger problem.

Dumb debbie, real dumb.

So, couldn't shut the door cuz it was half caught on the metal catch of the selt belt, and I couldn't open it for the same reason.  I couldn't unlock it, cuz evidently my keys were INSIDE the car.  Oh smack.

I looked.  They weren't in the ignition.  So I went in the restaurant to eat, think, and read.  I also heard the squawk of the trooper's radio.  So I tracked him down.  In the restaurant.  I excused myself and said....

"hi, I was looking for you.  A man in uniform.  Driving that car.  Parked out there."  waving in the direction of the parking-lot.  I have a real odd history with the law-enforcement here in this county, it's funny, sometime I'll tell you about it, but not now.  But in short, as a result of said history, I speak in sentence fragments with lots of deep breaths inbetween.

So basically, either you think I'm asthmatic, hyperventilating, or that I'm in crisis needing a police officer.

He said:  do you need help?

I said:  no, yes, but no.  I mean.  I locked my keys in the car.  (breath, breath, breath)   A friend is coming.  I'll call my landlords.  Extra set, at the house.  (breath, breath) and ahhhhh....I parked next to you.

He said:  Ma'am, did you hit my car?

I sighed, "no."  And wilted, and wiped sweat off my brow cuz all of a sudden I was really really hot.  "I just wanted you to know, in case..."  (trying to think of why I wanted him to know) "you saw the door is cracked, can't close, won't open, cuz I locked the keys in the car"

His companion was eyeing me strangely.  The trooper was eyeing me strangely.  Hell, I was eyeing me strangely.

The trooper said, very soothingly, "you're sure you have assistance coming to help you?"

"OH, yes," I gushed and then began to cry.  Oh cripes.  No, no, I'm alright, I sobbed and went back to my seat.

So, my friend comes to get me.  I wait til my landlord gets home.  I call her.  She tells me to catch a ride home with her husband.  He will let me in my home.  I can catch a ride in with her in the morning.

See?  All better.

Sniff.

Please keep your eye out...

Just keep ONE eye peeled, please....

I think that I have deleted all actual cartoon panels, by Mark Parisi, of offthewall.com.  But I am not sure.  Absolutely sure.  And since I don't want to violate the law, horrors, gasp, and offend anyone in THAT office, I'm asking for your help...

If you happen to see a Parisi/off the wall panel skulking about in my journal, please drop a comment telling me where or when it's at so i can hasten right on over there and dash it from the entry.....

Now, I am aware that I do mention Mark Parisi and offthewall.com (see there, did it again) and I urge all of you to trot on over and gander at his stuff.  It's good.  It's on par with Larson, it's that good.

Kudos to Parisi.

"You deserve a break today..."

Ray Croc, founder of McDonald's, was born on this date in 1902.

Happy Birthday!!! Or whatever....

On this date in 1905, Orville Wright flew for more than 33 minutes, thus ushering in the age of flight.

  Then, on this date in 1957, the Sputnik was launched, thus ushering in the age of space exploration.

Happy Birthday!!!

Buster Keaton, a man with a truly quirky sense of style, was born on this date in 1895.  Johnny Depp's character in "Benny and Joon" is based on Keaton and Chaplin.

Also, my friend in Chattanooga has his Birthday Today, g'day, eh, Trav?

Ya know, I'm wondering...

Whatever happened to OJ Simpson in the last ten years?  What's he been up to?  Where's he at?  Do I as a member of the general public have a right to know (hell no, that was a rhetorical question, but i answered it anyway, cuz well, it's my journal, dammit)?

On this date in 1995, OJ was acquitted of murder charges.

I've been pimped, she squeaks joyously

Bon and Mal over at The Diatom Project have stopped by my journal and decided it might could use a little help with getting the word out.  So they did an entry just for me, and I am reaping the rewards already.  Thank you, Bon & Mal!!!!

That's how Gem found me.  And how jcrazytrain stumbled over.  My special thanks to those of you who find me through mentions at other journals.  And my extra special thanks to those of you who mention me in your journals.  And my super duper extra special thanks to Bon & Mal.

GRINS, SPINS, & BEAMS, Debra

Speechless, I have nothing to add, the clip speaks for itself...

Becky Wilkes/SDN Missy, a 9-year-old Jack Russell terrier, is held by her owner, pre-vet major Ginny Powell of Germantown, Tenn., as Rev. William Livingston, rector of the Episcopal Church of the Resurrection, delivers a blessing. Powell said that this is Missy's ninth blessing; she attends the service every year, either in Germantown or here in Starkville. As Livingston placed his hand on the dog, she obediently lowered her head. The service celebrating the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi with the Blessing of the Animals drew a large crowd Sunday."

In the aftermath of Banned Book Week...

A man breaks the display case glass to get to a rare and old book so that he can read the story on page 106 about a historical figure.  The book is composed of newspapers from an era long ago.  The police found him with the book crammed down his pants and under his shirt.

what can I possibly say?  the act seems to speak for itself...

National Disability Employment Awareness Month

(there was an excellently appropriate cartoon panel posted here, by Mark Parisi of offthewall.com; but not as of Wed 5 Oct)

Please mom, can I keep him?

 Ya know it's a sad thing when you are a grown woman and worried about what your mom might have to say about you taking in another animal.  I'm such a wuss that way.  And somehow, it doesn't bother me to admit that to who ever happens upon my journal, strangers, friends, or foe...but pick up the phone and call my mom and let her know that i have another pooch?  oh man, i just caannnnnnnnnnnnn't (that was a whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine).

Bless their lil ole hearts

I sure do love to open my email account and see that someone has left comments in my journal and that AOL has been kind enough to forward them to my inbox.  Course, I did set my alerts that way, but still.  And I especially love it when folks are friendly and give helpful advice.

Why, just last night and this morning too, I had comments that were helpful.  Thus making me extra extra super duper yippittee skippittee happy.

Cuz txrebalgirl26, kreamedkorn, shadowhawk3680, and katric15 all left the same comment after various entries.  And god love em, they were just doing their best to help me find a sexy local...sigh.

Well, ya'll know I gotta man, and I know he'd appreciate the helpful nature of these fine upstanding folk, but I just felt I should oughta block/delete the ids and alert AOL about them.  Cuz I may just be a little slow on the uptake at times, but all that sure did seem like a spaaalamstering (a smattering of spam?) that should be stemmed before it gets outta hand.

  Or I may have to don my protective headgear to keep the spamsters from locating me....shhhhhhhhhh, our secret, k?

Virtuous, my ass

"But I do know that it's true that if you wanted to reduce crime, you could, if that were your sole purpose, you could abort every black baby in this country, and your crime rate would go down," said Bennett, author of "The Book of Virtues."

Then Bennett went on to do some serious backpedalling and try to do some damage control by clarifying that his statement was meant to show that abortion as a means of crime control is reprehensible.

aha!  what i want to know is, who is arguing for abortion as crime control?

as a sociologist, i can say that in all probability, if you aborted every baby of any single ethnicity, religion, sex, topographical, geographical, socio-economic status, etc (see where i'm going with this?  any single any division of anything), well the crime rate would go down.  no shit sherlock.  that's because crime exists at all levels in all levels  of the social-stratosphere, so to say.