Me 'n My Laptop

In Celebration of the Freaking, F*****g Fab 50

*

Take a look

at these stupid,

young poems,

and as one of them

is titled

"Take a Look at What

Categories I Filed These

Under Before You

Wonder What the Hell

I'm Not Telling You About

in the Present". 

*

Game Boy

*

You accuse others

of playing games.

You are older than me

and wiser, you say.

Just because

you have more years

than me.

And yet,

you are the

biggest game player

of all,

trying to control an "us"

in the future,

by saying something

can

or cannot be. 

I refuse to play

your game,

because I will not

please you

just to please

only you. 

*

Ahem

*

If he's turned on

because I'm pretty or fun,

and he makes a pass

and I turn him down;

he's angry -

because he says

it's my fault

he's turned on.

And therefore

I'm expected to come across,

when in fact,

he turns himself on

by using me.

*

Mothers don't want to read this ...

*

I want to make love,

  but I'm afraid that's all I want.

I'm afraid I'd be the one to turn over

  and go right to sleep afterwards.

I'm afraid I'd be hoping

  you'd be gone in the morning

  before I woke up.

No ties,

  no strings,

    no promises,

      no expectations,

        no nothing ...

But sex.

Making love?

No. 

Fucked. 

*

R E S P E C T

*

A man needs to be respected,

as does a woman,

in order to feel good about theirselves.

A man and a woman

need to respect each other.

A woman needs to respect herself

when she can't respect her man.

Which really means

she has to live

on her own self-respect

and kick him out the door.

*

I think too highly

*

I

think too highly

of others,

and not enough

of myself.

You

think too highly

of yourself,

and not enough

of others.

*

I'm telling ya

*

Being single

is being bait.

Sharks

eat bait.

*

Sometimes I forget

*

Something in me

draws them to me -

like moths to the flame,

but it looks an awful lot like

small boys to their mothers.

Sometimes I forget

that giving doesn't

necessarily get you anything,

except alot of being taken.

*

Altho ...

being taken

isn't necessarily a bad thing ...

*

Note in what category this is filed in before you freak out and wonder who the hell I'm not telling you about in the present ...

*

He woke my body up,

if even for just a minute,

it's the first time in years

it's been awake.

He retreated -

I'm not his type.

I retreated -

still married I told myself,

and too chicken.

*

The body that woke up

retreated out of pure terror.

It's not used to wanting a man

just for the sake of sex

and what it could learn

just for the fun of it.

It's kind of scary -

now that the body

wants to take a peek

and see what's out there. 

Atlanta

Yes, it is Sunday.  Yes, the Nascar race in Atlanta is on.  I'm sitting in the only room that doesn't have a TV.  I've got 3 TV's on, so basically it's surround sound.  Kinda awesome.

So I know my fans are wondering where the heck is my Jeff Gordon?  That Ben so thoughtfully sent to me, when the other one ... hit on hard times.  (As in he was dropped from the 3rd story onto the cement pavement).  It's there - I promise.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Ta da!

I tried to link the Atlanta track, but evidently Impatience is my middle name today, cause MYGODTHISCOMPUTERISSLOW. 

*

Just Call Me Laurie Impatient Adamson

.

Can can, can you do the can can

Well, well, well.  If Wifi means wireless, then I do have that on the laptop, but it's really iffy most of the time.

There was something wrong with her connection - I followed the trouble-shooter and fixed it.  Because I am brilliant. 
***
On another note ...

It's gonna take a few days to recover from this fiasco. 

That is all.
*
Just Called Me ... hmmmm ... Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired
.

Relief in sight

I beg forgiveness.  I am an evil and mean person for cussing Wheelie out cause I thought there was no Internet at her house.  I stand corrected.  I am also a genius. 

Now I'm so excited, I don't know what to say. 

I shall re-group, and change my priorities.  To hell with cleaning her house.

My addiction remains, and shall florish again!

*

Just Call Me Happy Once Again

.

Muttin and her attitude

Muttin:  What's that.  Another contraption?

Me:  A laptop computer.

Jeffrey:  (with a worried look)  It sits on your lap?

Me:  Yup

Muttin:  Where will I sit now?

Me:  Hmmm, thats true, you're always jumping on my lap, aren't you?

Muttin:  You're on your way to ignoring us the same way you did SonOne when he was a teenager, and you just discovered the Internet.  Thought you had regrets about that.  Guess not. 

Me:  Listen, you little bitch, I've about had it from you.  GO LAY DOWN RIGHT NOW.

Muttin:  Wow, that's the first time you've ever yelled at me in caps.

Me:  Go.  Right.  Now.

Jeffrey:  (goes to lay down, and looks at Muttin pleadingly to do as she's asked before I get madder, because he's her conscience)

Me:  Muttin, how about this - you can come sit in my lap when I'm on the toilet.  How bout that?  It's all you deserve really.

Muttin:  I beg your pardon?  Seems like that would make me the worst kind of attention whore. 

Me:  As opposed to a ... lap dog?

*

Just Call Me the Translator

.

The Cats in the Household

So I'm going the laptop route.  Windows 98, slower than molasses in January, but oh well.  I wanted the laptop so I could write when the mood struck, and not be tethered to the wall where the electricity lives.

My eyes are doing the focusing camera thing.  In and out of focus for periods of 5 to 10 minutes.  Course .. not that a camera that took 5 to 10 minutes to focus would be a good thing.  I need to sit down when it's happening.  Have not heard of this particular symptom, but I'm sure it's MS related. 

Mdmhvonpa suggests that I use "Wifi", since I don't have the Internet.  Whatever that is.  There was a time back in my olden days when I could have used a wifi, since the husbands couldn't seem to be bothered with the dishes or the laundry. 

Look at that.  "Husbands".  Just how many did I have, hmmm?  ONLY TWO.

I must admit that it's nice mdmhvonpa seems to keep forgetting that I'm hitting the big Five Oh.  People who are hitting that number consider themselves advanced with the Internet sitting on top of a desk next to a keypad.  Wifi is a bit beyond us. 

So the dilemma about the pet door?  There's a fence around the yard, but little dogs can go under the fence.  The fact that Wheelie has a Chihuahua and still she put in a fence that doesn't contain little dogs is beyond me.  That fact and no Internet has sent me over the edge with stress.  Well, that and wrangling all these animals. 

I had hoped my kittens would not discover the Great Outdoors at this house.  They've been outside only 2 times at home, and that was with my constant presence to guard their precious little asses. 

So the pet door situation quickly went to hell.  I discovered Jeffrey giving the kittens lessons on how to go in and out the flap.  Literally.  Both kittens were sitting on their haunches, staring at the back door.  I thought they were just dreaming of the possibilities.  Then it dawned on me that I had been hearing somebody going in and out of the pet door for quite some time.  So I paid attention.  That damn Jeffrey was going in and out, in and out, and walking up to the kittens, touching noses, as if he were saying "Come on, guys, it's easy". 

I think he feels bonded with the kittens cause they're both male.  It helps him feel more secure ... what with Muttin being the Boss of All.

So once they mastered the pet door, KitKat took it from there.  He showed them that leaves blowing on the ground are not Kitten Eaters, and how much fun it is to jump out from under a big tarp when someone walks by.  Prior to this, my kittens had given KitKat a wide berth, respecting the fact that they were in his territory?  But now?  They're all chasing each other like kids in a daycare.  All I can say is KitKat better not lead them astray.  It's bad enough he's teaching them how to be cats. 

*

Just Call Me Irritated

.

Should I go?

Back when the San Francisco Housing Authority tried to trick me into believing that all I needed to qualify was a California State license or ID, I visited Ben last year and got my California ID.  When what they REALLY meant was that I needed a San Francisco ID, but hey, that took another plane ride to discover. 

Jury duty in San Diego's Superior Court.  My luck would be to get the OJ trial... 

Which is silly, since his case wouldn't be a Superior Court issue.  One would hope not, anyways.

I'm in a really bitchy mood cause ... bet you can't guess ! ...   PAIN.  Had a good Sunday - Tuesday, and cleaned up Wheely's bedroom and bathroom yesterday.  Am trying to do one project a day, so the place is spic and span when she comes back.  Today's chore is to winterize her yard. 

Have 2 posts written inside my laptop, but forgot to bring it back to my house. 

Remember the lost pills in the mail to SFM?  After worrying whether I'm about to be arrested for mailing legal, subscribed medication in the mail?  And calling the post office, and then calling their Lost in Mail number, and giving the details (they didn't ask what was inside the package)?  SFM called this morning to say he got them after all, just a couple days after I mailed them.  It was "in a pile".  Huh. 

He has trust issues with women in general.  So his first inclination is to act like "Yea right, you know you didn't send them".  Which infuriates me cause I try really really hard to be OVERLY trustworthy for him, cause I know how he is.  So HA!  Take THAT, you ... you... MAN! 

Over and out -

Just Call Me Tired
.

Martinsville

Today's race is at Martinsville Speedway in Virginia.

I'm in no mood to blog today, as I've discovered I've been duped.  There is no Internet at Wheely's house.  She hasn't learned her computer or Internet yet, so it looks like she quit paying the bill in August. 

And she KNOWS that I agreed to babysit her kitten, thinking I could do my blogging from there.  She KNOWS that I expected it to be there.  Grrrrr.

Gordon and Johnson are dominating the race.  161 laps to go, and Gordon is leading.  I think he's lead in laps too. 

I'm here at home, hurrying over so I could post the picture because I know how much YOU ALL appreciate it.

Fine, figures my mother would rat me out.  Sis is only 45.  She just ACTS like the older sister. 

Coming soon.  A blog about ring tones.  Owls.  Boys.  I guess at my age, I should use 'men' instead of 'boys'.  USE men?!  Hahahaha.  I so funny.  Me using them, rather than being used - that's a switch.  We're all grown-ups here, tho, right?  Of course right. 

I took Barf & Hiney to Wheely's house, and they're doing just fine.  It's not as frustrating as I thought it would be - that pet door. 

Her kitten, KitKat, can get thru, but my dogs are blocked.  Barf and Hiney have no idea what a pet door is, so at this point they haven't discovered it yet.  They spook easy, so the washer and dryer right next to the door is pretty handy for scaring them out of the laundry room.  KitKat growls at my kittens, and they just look at him like "hmmmm ... we'd play if you'd play".  They LOVE all the space - the favorite past-time so far is racing me down the hall every time I walk down it.  That and watching all the bird feeders out the windows.  Wait till I refill the squirrel feeders - maybe I catch it with the camera.

Muttin with frosting on her nose this morning.  Somebody spilled cake in the parking lot. 

Trying to lick it off before anybody sees her.  It's embarrassing to have frosting on your nose, thankyouverymuch.

The 52-inch Plasma TV?  Makes everyone look wide.  As in fat.  Fat faces especially. 

* 

Just Call Me Pissed Off for The Next Two Weeks
.

A fruitful day. Not.

I got all dressed this morning in order to go into town, have lunch with my sister, do the errands that needed to be done.  The problem?  I took a shower, and it gave me MS.  MS that won't leave, evidently.  I must admit to not WANTING to leave the apartment, because a good, healthy depression requires that you hole up and isolate. 

I called my case-worker to make sure she was in, because it's Friday, and it seems the government is fond of taking Fridays off, or at least leaving early.  Her voice mail said she wasn't in today.  Whew.  So then I decided SFM could go ahead and pee his damn pants for all I care ... (he has MS issues too), so I would wait till Monday to take care of the Case of the Missing Pills Sent by the Post Office.  Oh, all right ... he told me last nite he found some others I sent some time ago.  Which is a shame because I may have mentioned that he's been an asshole lately, and I kinda liked the idea of him peeing his pants.  In front of a client.  Or better yet, a woman client.  Or even ... just a woman!  Okay, I jest.  It's not funny.  But neither is being an asshole.  Whom I happen to miss, dammit. 

So I settled down into my depression, fully justified in sluffing of the day's tasks.  Until I started looking for the rebate thingy for my cell phone and the fax sheet sending the required documents to the dang caseworker a couple of weeks ago, which was supposed to insure that my check would not drop from 712.00 to 500 something.  It's too late anyways to make sure it gets fixed in time for my next check so hell with it.  Then I realized I had called the wrong caseworker this morning.  I should have remembered - she's got a weird name. 

So then I texted my sister to call me when she was free, so I could tell her I could go into town after all, would she be able to get off early and help me.  By the time she called back ... I forgot why I had asked her to call. 

Sigh.

It's just as well - feet hurt. 

It IS the pain that is keeping me awake, and/or waking me up every 3 hours.  Do I care enough to leave the house to go the mile or less to the doctor for yet another round of

Me:  I need more Lyrica and more Tramadol.

Doc:  You're taking the highest recommended dose for the Lyrica already.

Me:  I know.  How long have I been at the same dosage?  Like 4 years, right?

Doc:  Yes that is true.

Me:  So maybe we can up it to fives times a day which might get me through the nite for the next four years, yes?

Doc:  Your liver needs a rest from all the meds you have to take, and night time is the only time for that. 

Me:  I'm gonna Google that. 

Doc:  You'll forget by the time you get home.

Me:  Who the hell do you think you are Mister? 

Doc:  I'm your doctor and I know what's best for you.

Me:  I'll ask hundreds of other MS'ers if their livers need to rest.  You just wait, you'll be sorry.

And I will leave like a little puppy because I'm too tired to be my fiery, I am woman, hear me roar shtick.

Tomorrow is my sister's 51st birthday.  Wish her a good one. 

*
Just Call Me The Younger Sister
.

Moving 2 blocks away

Starting tomorrow, I'll be staying at WheelChairLady's house to baby-sit for her cat for 2 weeks.  It's got a 52 inch plasma TV is about the only benefit for doing this.  There's a pet door that the cat is used to using, and a fenced yard, but little dogs can squeeze under it, or jump over it.  So that pet door is gonna be a hassle, keeping my dogs in, and her kitten able to come and go as it pleases.  It not quite being used to my dogs - it'll be scared to come back inside maybe.  All I can say is that it's gonna be a headache. 

She's got a computer, but someone updated it from Windows 98 to Windows XP and there's not enough memory or gigabytes or whatever it needs - cause it's damn slow.  I'll be able to blog from it, but I'll have to get up early to boot it up - it's that slow.  I do have to come back here to take care of PPMan everyday, and feed my kittens then, and then again in the evenings, so maybe there will be blogging going on.  Or not. 

I spent most of the day getting her ready, packing, running errands, etc.  Exhausted.  Tomorrow I have to drive into town to find out why my Disability check goes down from 712.00 to 542.00 this month and then 618.00 each month after that.  That means 72 hours at the Social Security office.  And then I've got to find out why SFM hasn't got the pills I sent him a week ago.  I'm halfway afraid of being carted to jail over that, but I think as long as it's my subscription and they're not illegal drugs or narcotics - it's okay to mail them.  Also have to send in my rebate for my cellphone.  Blah blah blah.

I'm going to bed. 

*
Just Call Me in Bed
.

Too tired to Title

Last nite I was glad that I couldn't sleep. 

I might have missed Jeffrey choking to death. 

Muttin said she needed to go outside about 2am last nite, (she lied, all she did was go a few steps and sniff the tree).  Jeffrey went around the corner to his favorite tree, and I can't see him from the door.  He's the good dog, tho, and he always comes back.  When he came in, he RAN to the bed, which was unusual for him.  I put away a couple of things in the kitchen.  All of a sudden, Jeffrey was slamming himself into me legs, trying to get my attention.  He was choking.

He was pawing at his face and sucking for air, and his eyes were panicky - it was horrible to see.  I started looking for my phone, and walked around in circles cause I didn't know what to do.  I looked down his throat and saw something brown, but I was afraid if I tried to get it, I'd push it further down.  Then I got confused, thinking wasn't that what I wanted to do ... push it down into his stomach?  Uh.  NO.  Then I thought the least I could do was hold him while he was dying.  By picking him up, I suddenly remembered the Heimlich Maneuver.  I've done it on 2 babies and a little girl at K-Mart, but a dog? 

I laid him on his side, braced one hand on his back, and the other under his rib cage, convinced if he didn't die from choking, I'd kill him by squashing his kidneys or something else important.  But he had gone limp when I picked him up, so I finally pushed sharply upwards.  It worked after the 3rd time.

Then I emailed SFM cause he's the only person I know who can't sleep at nite either, but just in case it WAS a night he fell asleep - I didn't want to risk waking him up. Plus he's been a somewhat ass lately.  Jeffrey was acting all happy and chipper, so we went to bed.  With my heart racing.  Couldn't sleep.  Then I remembered VetMan was in town.  And he wanted to get together, but I'd been avoiding it cause of the MS.  What better time than 4am in the morning after a doggy medical emergency!  It's easily understandable why the MS was flaring, can we say S. T. R. E. S. S.?  Right?  Of course right. 

So I called him, scaring him half to death cause I started crying my face off.  So we talked, but I kept lapsing into tears here and there, then we said goodbye.  Next thing I know, he's at the door!  He said it was important that he check Jeffrey out and make sure I hadn't damaged any internal organs.  Inside my head I thought uh huh.  But I was glad he did that and I was glad for the company. 

It was nice to just lay in bed, being held.  On top of the covers cause I can't stand sheets or blankets on my feet.  In my flannel pajama pants, and sweatshirt.  Which he can thank his lucky stars I had just changed into.  Something about saving a dog's life brought the sweat out of me.  Charming. 

The weight of a loss or potential loss weighed heavy on me, and it was SUCH a relief not to be alone right then. 

I teased him for about one minute about using my traumatized dog as an excuse to come over for about a minute, and then I fell asleep almost immediately.  A couple hours later, I woke up, sat up, called for Jeffrey, and went right back to sleep holding him.  Jeffrey.  Not VetMan.   I didn't hear him leave, but he left me a Dear Jane note.  Some silly thing about being replaced by a dog.  Maybe I'll get his permission to post it.

*Just Call Me a Life Saver
.

Update:  I researched Doggy Heimlich on Google.  Turns out it IS important for dogs to be seen by the vet immediately.   Specially little dogs. 

FINE!
.

Oh, and it was a round dog treat that he eats several times a day that he choked on.  I had thought at first it was a piece of bark, cause he had just been outside when it happened.  It flew across the room, and I found it this morning.  I already have to mixed kitty kibble with canned cat food and warm water when they eat.  And the dog's chicken requires bagging 2 pieces in a baggie, freezing, and then unthawing.  Now I have to cut his treats in half? 

These animals - they're gonna give me gray hair. 
. 

In response to comments

Gosling - you little smart ass.  I missed the race 2 Sundays ago that he won.  I saw the race last week that he won.  So it's a 50-50.  Obviously, he's become secure enough in our relationship that my watching him isn't necessary.  Ahem. 

I pondered my sister's question as to why or when I was going to blog about my baby-sitting adventures with my nieces baby son who's about 16? months. 

The problem is 2-fold.  (I've always wanted to say "two-fold")  It could even be 4 or 5-fold. 

1.  I forget.  Often.  Most things.  Often.  Most things.  Often.  Most things.

2.  If it's not funny, or nothing funny happened, I tend to believe it's not blog-worthy.  So then there's the "I hurt, I'm tired, I did this on my list, and oh by the way, once in awhile I go to Reno for some shagging  gambling  fun". 

3.  It hurts to much to type.  By the time the pain is gone, I've forgotten what it was that I wanted to write about.

4.  My best blogging ideas happen between 2 and 4am in the morning, or while I'm in the shower.  Of course, by morning, or by the time I've dried off from the shower (cause we all know how much brain power it takes to dry off), I've forgotten.

5.  Quite often, I'll start a draft post with a sentence or two, to help me remember.  But then as I write and publish other posts, the drafts posts slip further and further down the screen until they're gone to another page cause they're dated and the newer ones on are the page in front.  Out of sight, out of mind.  Same with the vegetables I put in the crisper drawers in the fridge.  Or my pills when I change their location. 

So, let's review.  It would seem that forgetting is the main problem.  I have tried 72 dozen ideas for helping me to stop forgetting things.  It's the perennial Catch-22.  Sure I write it down on a list.  But then I forget the list.  I go one step further tho - I forget that I've written it down on a list in the first place.  Then I'll come across the list and read "Blog wicker" or "Blog towels" or "Blog fleas".  WTF?  Blog towels?  And what about the wicker?  That the cats are using it all as scratching posts??? There ya have it folks, you read it here first! 

Good grief. 

There will come a time when I can blame it on getting old.  I'd be curious to know from my readers who have MS ... can you tell when it's an MS thing or just getting older, or it's the weather (if there's joint pain), etc.  Can you tell what's "normal" and what's MS?

Having said all that?  Baby-sitting was uneventful.  He's a good baby, but too young to be funny yet, so there was no witty repartee between us.  One of us kept saying no a few times.  The cats acted as if they've been around babies all their young lives, and the dogs were a MAJOR headache because Baby   

*
Just Call Me Verging on Exhausted
. 

Reason # 19 - No kill, anyone?

I think it can be safely said that I love animals.  When I am settled, I will be volunteering at the animal shelter ... well ... maybe.  My heart might break too many times, cause I'd want to take them all home.  I'm told that it's just not feasible to own too many pets.  I can't volunteer at our local shelter here in my city because they kill. 

So there's this - Reason #19 to Move to San Francisco

Ben wants me to come visit him in San Diego.  Now that I can fly free, I'll definitely go, but I don't know when.  Thanksgiving is the biggest travel holiday of the year, so I doubt my son will be able to celebrate it with me.  Maybe then.  Maybe it'll help with the depression.  But then I'll come back home to winter ... how depressing. 

Hiney likes to stand up on his back legs like he's ... uh ... standing up.  When I'm getting their food ready, he stands next to me and pats my hands as they are reaching for the refrigerator door or the counter top.  His front paws just reach the counter.  Right now he's standing up next to the wicker coffee table, and reaching with one hand paw trying to get a candy wrapper that was sitting on the middle of the table.  He looked just like a 2 year old toddler reaching for something he knows he's not supposed to reach because THAT'S WHY IT OUT OF HIS REACH.  When he did nab it, he turned his back to me while he figured out what it was, and then he did a Linda Blair/Exorcist thing with his head and stared at me like "Is this all that it is?"  Cause both cats were scared of it at first. 

.

Jeffrey is still nervous around the kittens.  When they go into their manic running around the edges of the entire apartment, leaping over this and that - he gets a certain look on his face, eyes staring straight ahead with his ears back a little.  He looks like an old man sitting on the porch, who's irritated with the noisy kids next door.  Like he's trying to hold his tongue. 
.

The little hellions. 

*
Just Call Me Still Tired
.

Babysitting my great-nephew. What the hell is a great-nephew? He's my neice's baby boy.

.

*
Just Call Me Auntie
.

Tired

Evidently I had a play date with MS this weekend.  And naturally, in the man department, when it rains, it pours.  I had a date with someone in the race club Saturday nite, AND VetMan is in town.  I probably shouldn't call it a date, cause it was just a "Let's go out for a bite Saturday nite and we'll talk it over", and I'm driving myself.  Picking me up in his car would make it a date, right?  What we were to talk over is a mystery to me, now that I think about it.  I ran into him at the Maverick here in town, and he recognized me as the lap counter, so he struck up hilarious conversation, which I do not remember now, because did I mention that the MS played with my body all weekend? 

I canceled the date because I didn't want him to see me being so MS'y.  I'm a disappointment to myself because I thought I was over being embarrassed by it, but evidently not. 

I finally fell asleep this morning at 6am, and slept deep till 8am.  The pain in my feet and hands kept me awake.  But for the first time in a long time, I've had new physical symptoms that scare me.  The inside of my ear ... inside the head part ... I don't know how to explain it.  But it was numb.  And sometimes tingly.  Very irritating.  And I couldn't hear right.  My eyes got all wonky, and my glasses are next to useless.  The numbness was up to my stomach and stayed, which I HATE.  The stumbles.  I was mortified when I bought PPMan his beer this morning, as I stumbled along, looking like I was drunk at 10am in the morning!

Speaking of him, I got his apartment up to snuff, except for his carpet.  I told the landlady I wouldn't touch it, so she has to wait for him to get it cleaned on the 1st, when he gets his magic money.  He lied to me for 2 days about taking a shower, but he finally did on Saturday, and I jumped up and down with glee.  And today he had changed his clothes and I noticed and said so.  He's been known to wear the same thing for a month, if not longer.  He pees the bed, and poops on the floor as he runs for the bathroom.  So today, when the landlady inspects his apartment, I'll be able to tell her that he's trying to be better.  He's also eaten a half a fried egg sandwich for 2 days, and half a grilled cheese this morning.  That's ALL he's had in the last ... 5 days? 
He reminds me sooo much of George, the old man I did Hospice with, and they are step-son/step-dad.  SFM is his step-brother, and MyBestFriend is his sister.  George was waiting to die, and knew it wasn't too far away.  He had a certain peace and beauty about him.  Dignified.  He was also 82?  This morning, as I cooked his grilled cheese sandwich, I asked him if he wanted to die.  He's 52ish.  He said no.  Which surprised me.  He is the most alone and loneliest person I've ever known.  So I'm gonna have him sign a Living Will, because last time I called the ambulance for him in June or July, they couldn't find a pulse for the first 5 minutes.  I don't want to be in the position of knowing what his wishes are, but have no "legal" ties to him.

I've talked him into accepting home heath services, and an aide will start coming in.  I told him I was going to be with him when he got evaluated, to be sure they got the truth.  He'll try to tell them he can do his own cooking, doesn't need help with his laundry, that the shit on the floor was just a one time accident and he hasn't had a chance to clean it up, etc.  His case worker has been begging him to accept help, but he's refused over and over again.  So today I have to follow up on the aide, get him on Meals on Wheels, go over his paper work, so I can figure out what doctors he needs to see - I think he has COPD, and I know there's medication he can take to help with that.  He can hardly walk more than half a hallway without losing his breath and having to rest.

I've got a black cat laying across my belly and the keyboard on my lap and he's pinning down my arms.  Hmm. 

Haven't I heard that female cats can have several boyfriends at the same time, and the kittens can come out totally different from each other?  Cause these two sure don't look anything alike.  Besides the fur difference, Hiney is lean and lanky, and Barf is short, fuzzy and cuddly.  Hiney is the one who comes when called, and hardly ever meows unless it's feeding time.  Barf is more aloof and ignores me when I call, but he meows right back at me, like he's saying "What?!"   Very irritating.  He chatters all the time too, whenever I talk to him.  Hiney's the brave one, Barf is far more cautious.  I opened my bedroom window so they could go outside the other day, because it occurred to me that they had never been in the sunshine.  The sun doesn't ever shine in here, and all cats love to soak in the sun.  Hiney came right out, and explored all the way to the middle of the courtyard, where I was, but Barf just sat inside the window very prettily. 

Ever since the snow fell the other day, and I had a melt-down, I've been somewhat manic about keeping busy so I don't sink into a winter-caused depression.  I get scared when I'm depressed cause it's so much more comfortable and cozy for me to hole up in the apartment.

So I'm tired.

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Just Call Me Tired
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Lowe's Motor Speedway

Well dang.  I missed last week's race at Talledega, and I just heard that he said that was the biggest win ever, because he only lead for HALF a lap.  Meaning that he didn't run in front until the last lap, and then only the last half of that lap!  How exciting that would have been!

Tonite's race in at Lowe's Motor Speedway in Charlotte, North Carolina.  I think it's in North Carolina. 

And guess who's leading with 32 laps to go? 

Uh huh.

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Just Call Me Picks the Right Driver

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Update:  And still leading at 14 laps? 

You know it.

Last Update:  He won. 

Dear John Letter

Dear Internet Computer,

Hi, it's me again.  I can't tell you how affectionate I'm feeling towards you ever since I got you back from whatever was wrong with you.  For a whole day, I lost you, and you seemed to be mad at me - simply having disappeared on me.  Is it me?  Is it Memorex?  Who knows?  But we didn't give up on each other, dear Computer, and eventually we worked it out, altho I never did figure out the real problem.  After fiddling with you for several hours, it was after I walked away and left you alone - when all of a sudden I heard your ring-tone calling me back.  It was a beautiful moment, let me tell you.  Of course, it did have to be on YOUR terms, didn't it?  That's so like you ... and I must admit - soo soo frustrating, but love conquers all, and is blind and all that shit, huh?

I'm sure you saw me trying to get the Internet going on that silly little laptop - it didn't work either, so you had nothing to worry about.  Not like you were worried or anything - you were actually pretty cold-hearted now that I think about it ...

I'll tell you right now that I'm looking to replace you because now you can't be trusted.  It wasn't a good thing to depend on you every day, only to have you disappear for no apparent reason.  I thought we were closer than that, and it hurt me that you couldn't have let me know there was a problem.  I would have fixed it, you know, because I care so much for you.  So despite how affectionate I'm feeling, I have to be realistic.  It's time for a newer, updated model - one who will speak to me when there's a problem.  We've been the best of friends, you and I, but it's time I move on to a more trustworthy model.  I valued our friendship, but you obviously feel more cavalier about it, and I need to know that I'm valued right back and worth solving problems together.  For as close as we were, or so I thought ... well, it just hurts, there's nothing more to say about that.  Suffice to say that a pattern has developed and it's opened my eyes that I don't have to settle for it anymore.  As much as I love you - I deserve better. 

We've been thru alot together, these last 7 years since I was dx'd with the MS.  You were the one that reassured me that it wasn't a death sentence, and that laughter would come again.  I met some really good people thru you, and for that I am grateful.  You helped me research the Worry of the Moment at the touch of the keyboard.  You helped me pass the time of many a depressed moments by letting me chat endlessly some nights.  Even tho I love you and will miss you more than I can say - it must be realized and faced with a stiff upper lip on my part.

So dear Computer, have a drink on me, and remember the good times, will you?  And I will keep an eye out for your replacement and hopefully the apron strings will be cut without anymore drama.  I promise to do well by you, and not toss you in the dumpster ... even tho ... it'd feel good to do so sometimes.  What!?  Did I say thattt?   

Sincerely, and with much love ...

*

Just Call Me Updating.  Or Dating Up?  Hahahaha.  I slay me. 

PS.  Honestly, Computer?  I'm really furious with you right now.  It was because of you I was up to my elbows in people shit today. 

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If I don't return in two days, send somebody to apartment #20

Dear Internet,

Thank you for bestowing your beauty upon me once more.  Because when you were broken, I felt lost and bewildered.  In fact, in my panic, at the thought of not being able to touch and feel you, I sold my soul for $50 bucks.  For the next two days, I'll be cleaning PPGuy's apartment. 

Internet, come to think of it ... I hate you! 

Sincerely,

Just Call Me Addicted

. 

Shut up.

Too many exclamation marks

ACK! 

Remember when I asked if anyone had happened perchance to keep a copy of my owl post? 

And then dear Gosling commented that she had looked ALL over the Internet (dog, I don't know what the going rate is for an Internet Private Investigator). 

ACKKKK Again!!! As I write this, there is a Black Lab available for adoption on the news tonite on the weekly Humane Society segment.  Named Buddy!  Which is what I was always calling the Duke!!!  Cause I'm a girl, and had to add something baby-ish to his name, and calling him Dukie just didn't cut it.  So I'd end up saying "Come on in, Bud", or "How's my big Buddy, huh?".  Come on, Buddy, come live with me ... obviously, we were meant to be, right?

Somebody stop me. 

Okay, back to the first ACK!  I'm hoping Gosling doesn't charge much and besides, if she didn't find anything, does that mean still I owe her?  No.  I think not.  So-eth decree I. 

So I was looking for ... something ... damn, I've already forgotten what it was, which had been sent to me in an email.  (Great, now THAT's gonna drive me crazy)  I couldn't for the LIFE of me find it, until I realized I had somehow put all the emails from boys into my main boy's (SFM) file.  I also discovered emails from my sister and mom, and everybody else I know in his file.  ???  Lord knows.  So as I was  sitting here, setting files up properly ... which begs the question ... I have it set up so they go automatically into the proper file as they come in ... oh never mind, I'm sure I screwed it up somewhere. 

But lo and behold ... the owl post suddenly appeared in an email I had sent to my mother and sister!  And Ben too. 

Obviously, one of my funniest stories didn't make one bit on an impact on them.  Hmph.

*
Just Call Me Happy for the Moment (It really takes so little)
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It's just too much. Don't read unless you can handle the snow

Today, I woke up in a fairly happy mood.  Despite having babysat till the wee hour between midnite and 1am.  Well, and then there's the being as happy as one can be when one hates where they live.

Nascar

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But then I opened the door to take the dogs out. 

So what do I do?  After first getting a feeling of vomit in my mouth, I then burst into tears.  I had the oddest feeling of failure.  Last year at this time, I had sworn I'd never spend another winter here.

Update: I wrote the above words yesterday.  I couldn't take it any further than that.

I called SFM yesterday to cry about the snow, but I threw in the kitchen sink too, just to make it more fun for him.  I wanted it to be more fun for him because of the joy I get when I hear that patient, patronizing tone of voice that tries to pretend he's not thinking I'm insane for crying about it snowing in Idaho.  So not only was I crying cause it snowed in Idaho, but also because ... well, I just won't go into it.  It's bad enough knowing that the snow can send me over the edge.  And I'm disgrace to women all over the world, because I quickly threw in ... "It must be my period is gonna come". 

I couldn't sleep after baby-sitting last nite, which is becoming quite a problem, btw, but I finally fell asleep about 7am this morning till about 10am, having set my alarm for the Nascar race in Talledegah - my favorite track.  Much to my disgust, my local station decided not to air the air till tonite at 10:30pm.  Way to ruin what was 1 of 2 reasons for living thru yesterday, only to find out that the reason why you chose to live was because SURELY the fucking snow would be gone by today, so just hang in there chickie, I told myself.  It was not gone, the race wasn't on, and I had woken myself up for no damn reason. Well, cept for the 2nd reason, which is those damn pets of mine.  They needed out to pee. 

And then my dear little old lady friend woke me up from the nap that I was using to escape the fact that it snowed 6 inches yesterday and it wasn't going away, to tell me that I must be in 7th heaven because Jeff Gordon had won the race today!!!  She was so ticked to have come across that little tidbit while she was channel surfing her home decorating shows, that I couldn't bust her bubble how I had purposely not looked up the race results because I wanted to wait to see the race when it aired later on tonite. 

So since I know the outcome of the race already, here's my closest version of a checkered flag for Jeffie.

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Just Call Me Depressed as Hell

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Wait.

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Just Call Me Depressed as Hell Because of the Snow - Not because Jeff Won the Race today.

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Oh for hells sake.  I forgot about Sappy Sunday.  Here's some damn snow melting in the damn doorway tonite, when I opened the damn door for the dear dogs tonite. 

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Just Call Me Overwhelmed with Responsibilities

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Delurking Week

As it says, it's National De-Lurking Week, and today is hump day.  I have it on good authority that commenting in blogs aides in losing weight.  It's true, I heard it at the Paper Napkin first!  So I commented on a couple of blogs this morning, and I know you'll be as thrilled as I am about losing 72 pounds already. 
I used to have an attitude about bloggers who wanted comments.  One guy in particular pissed me off so much that I quit reading him.  Boy, I showed him.  But there comes a time in every blogger's life, when all of a sudden it dawns on them that the readers know everything about me, but I don't know anything about them, and the balance begins to feel ... wrong?

So get brave and de-lurk, my site counter tells me there's many, many readers, but I have only a few commenters.  That's okay, really, because I write for theraputic and documentation purposes ... when I die, it might be important to my loved ones to know when I had that doctor's appointment for something unmentionable, but slightly eluded to on the calendar on the wall.

Here, I'll give you something to comment about ...

Supposedly Duke doesn't like cats.

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Ahem.

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Awwwww ...

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The little darlings. 

So delurk yourselves, and tell me what part of the world you live in, and .... let's see, what else do I want to know?   How about your relationship status, and do you have pets?  If so, what kind? 

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Just Call Me Skinny-er from Over-Commenting
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The best thing about this post is the Indian porn

Wow.  I just discovered my site meter.  I don't understand the difference between returning visitors and new visitors, and something about cookies, but the most popular page?  Reasons to Move to San Francisco.  The least popular?  The Moody Monthlies ... which I find hard to believe.  Writing about what makes me a woman is some of the finest writing I've done.  By gum. 

Dang nab it.  I've been reading a bunch of westerns.  About how the white women get captured by the red man, and eventually, after much silence between them, but sharing long lingering looks, they suddenly touch each other's quivering thighs, and his manhood meets her womanhood, and it's all it breathy, but then something happens and they misunderstand each other by assuming the other didn't love them after all, and does the white woman go back to her people when she gets the chance to?  Oh hell no.  One of them gets struck by a bullet of some sort, or falls ill from eating the wrong weed, or childbirth is alot harder than it should be, and they again look lingering into each other's eyes, and finally, just at the point of death ... FINALLY DECLARE THEIR LOVE and then the calvery comes and saves the day for everyone, happily ever after.  The End. 

That there's some quality reading, I'ma telling ya.

No, that's all right, I didn't work for hours on the new masthead.  That no one noticed.  I'm fine, really.  It was no problem.  And my birthday isn't the day after Halloween, but really ... no one needs to remember, I'll be fine.  It's only my 50th year is all. 

I'm really messing up my days and nites, and it's not good for me to be doing this.  I can't seem to sleep, and I blame SFM for it, altho he's being some sort of asshole and I haven't heard from him in days, but that's how we roll, but I can still blame him for insomnia problems, cause he had them first.  Personally, I think it's my medication (the daily shot) (with a needle). 

I missed last weekend's Nascar race because SonOne was in town, stealing my Duke away, and I had to help him, so there was no Gordon picture.  I'm shocked that page wasn't the post popular.  Hmmm... I must step up my game. 

Cept every damn time I determine to write more, and be more reliable about writing regular/daily ... the hurt comes on.  I hate the change of seasons, altho I really do love them in person.  But my body just can't regulate the temperatures involved - clothing, bedding, temperatures inside and out are all so touchy. 

Lordy, the kittens are on a tear.  They're running around the tops of furniture, and yes, knocking a damn lamp down even. 

I'm going to buy 2 kitty harness's with this month's fun money, and let them go outside.  Will I be creating a monster when I do that?  Will they sit on the window sills, and meow longingly to be taken outside 24/7?  Might reconsider.  But obviously, this place isn't big enough for the two of them.  Speaking of which ... I can't believe how much room Duke took up.  Did I already say that? 

I keep holding the door open when I take the Little's out, cause I'm waiting for the big guy to come thru.  Even the landlady today, when she came in, and the little dogs went out to inspect the hallway, she called them back in, and then held the door open, waiting for Duke.  Then she remembered.  She thinks he'll be back once my son has discovered how much I ruined spoiled Duke. 

We shall see.  I text-ed SonOne to ask how Dukie was doing, and he said good, that he seemed happy.  That's the thing, isn't it?  This morning I watched one of those animal cruelty shows, and immediately started to cry - a dog had been lying in it's own feces for days, howling, and covered in maggots - it choked to death before the animal cops could get help for it.  And then there was a pit bull who was so starved that you could see the ridges of the vertebrae in his tail even.  He was the friendliest, sweetest dog.  When they tested him for adoption, he passed with flying colors, even with the food test - where they feed the dog, and then use a rubber hand on a stick to try to take the food away from the dog.  You'd think after being starved, a dog would be a bit snappy and possessive of his food, but this one wasn't. I see these shows, and I want to move to the big cities, and personally shoot these people to death.  No ... they should be tied up in their dining room, not able to reach the food, and watch their loved ones be a family, while they all ignore them.  And not feed them.  Or let them loose to go to the bathroom.  Yup, yup, yup. 

And on that happy note, I'm going to bed.  Tomorrow's a big day.  It's BILL PAYING DAY with my sister being in charge of my monies.  Should be fun.  No, really. 

*

Just Call Me Armed and Ready

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The Duke ... he's moved on to Spokane

Well ...  Duke left with SonOne yesterday as planned.  As much as I know I didn't want to spend winter with him and his high-energy needs for outdoorness ... somehow I was hoping he wouldn't go. 

He was so happy seeing SonOne tho.  He was so cute.  Seeing a large dog be wiggly happy is a wonderful sight to see.  At one point, while we were loading things up into SonOne's pickup, SonOne was walking in front of me down the hallway, and Duke was in the middle.  He's supposed to walk behind you as if he were on a leash, and SonOne said "Back", meaning get back behind him.  Duke looked back at me, and ran around to be behind me, but he was so excited, so he ran up behind SonOne again, which made him in front of me.  I didn't say a word, cause the torch is passing back to SonOne, but Duke was a study in happiness and confusion on his face.  He didn't know who the boss was and who he was supposed to walk behind, so he just stayed in the middle, wiggling the whole time between us.  He was like "Look, mom,  he's here, he back, I love him, oh, but I love you too, oh my all this love, what I am going to do with it all, lions and tigers and bears oh my!  What do I do with it all?! 

I could have sworn I heard him whine to go outside this morning - I even got up to check. 

I can't believe how much space that dog took up.  Muttin/Jeff seem so happy, and calmer, now that they're not competing for attention.  Jeffrey in particular was so jealous, that he glued himself to me whenever I sat down on the couch, just so Duke couldn't have that space, even tho Duke never sat next to me on the couch, (until the last week or so).  Where is Jeffrey sleeping now?  Down at the other end of the couch, in his dog bed, where he's supposed to be. 

Duke is a really good dog, and very cool.  The only thing that drove me mad was his refusal to get out of the way when I wanted to move somewhere within the apartment.  Granted, it's small in here.  So the sense of freedom walking in and out the door now is amazing - I don't have to watch or wait for him to get out of my way.  He was so sensitive about his stupid tail - having to step around him was a constant pain, cause if you got anywhere near his tail, he acted as if he'd just woken up from a bad dream where an axe-chopper was standing over him.   And seeing as how I was the one who was looming over him when he acted like this - he and I had our moments.  One time, after he had startled me cause I had startled him, I yelled at him "Oh for Christ's sake, man up a little!"  And he seemed to for a few days, regulating my efforts to step over him as me ... simply stepping over him.  Sheesh.  But it didn't last long.

Anyways.  I am missing him already.  GreenishLady lost her dog, Trixie, the other day, and it's just an awful thought ... losing these pets of ours that fill up our world sooo much and so completely. 
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Just Call Me Lonely
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