Me 'n My Laptop

This is me at Blogher in ... SAN FRANCISCO!!!

Loved Sizzle's idea - I'm about to go to a conference with 999 other people.  I am but a tadpole in the blogging world.  Not even a tadpole.  I'm just a gleam in the daddy frog's eye.

1. I bought new bras for this conference.  The straps don't slip.  This is BIG.  I mean, this is big news, not big boobs, unfortunately.
2. I love San Francisco with the passionate passion of a thousand suns.  I'm trying to move there.  For so many reasons. 
3. Due to an unreasonable fit of temper, I quit my TypePad blog, and started a new one with Blogger.  Which resulted in the longest URL in the history of Blogville.  I think it would be kinder to provide the link, Me 'n My Laptop, rather than show it on this page.  There's only so much room.  This also caused a big problem with getting my cards on time, but it is done.  I paid extra for fast shipping - 7 to 14 days.  They got here in THREE days.  I want my money back.
4. I blog about daily life with 4 pets, having Multiple Sclerosis, pretending I don't have MS, and daily pictures of the pets.  I'll get on that "daily" any day now.  I also take pictures of Volkswagon Bugs, and Hearts.
5. Some of my readers seem to believe my dogs can talk.  I have no idea why they think this. 
6. My Halfway Honey bought me my first laptop, cause he didn't want me to be the only one at a blogging conference without a laptop.  I will be the one tearing my hair out cause Vista doesn't act much like Windows ME at all. 
7. He's also paying for my private room.  See why I like San Francisco?  He lives there.
8. He's not the reason I want to move.  Prepare for some sick sick love for a city that's gonna drop into the ocean when the BIG ONE hits.  Oddly, I want to experience an earthquake.  Told you it's sick. 
9. I'm coloring my gray roots for this conference, and then I'm gonna let it go gray.  My younger sister has gorgeous gray hair, and mine will look the same.  Only better. 
10. I love my dogs.  Walking them got me healthy again.  Not walking them has got me over-weight again.  Damn dogs. 
11. I live in a tiny 4 room apartment.  Kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom.  I have 2 dogs, Muttin/Jeff, and 2 cats Barf 'n Hiney.  I have to be nice to the mean landlord because she lets me have all four. 

This is me.  Pre-Teeth.  I photo-chopped the Christmas tree hanging on the wall behind me.  The dogs won't be with me at Blogher08 in SAN FRANCISCO, so I may not stand out in the crowd of 1000 bloggers, but I'll work on shining the gleam in the daddy frog's eye.

However... I will be bringing my secret boyfriend ... it's time our secret was brought out in the open.  We'll be available for pictures. 

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I think I may not be normal

As I roam around the Internet, reading about everyone's preparations for Blogher, I began to feel... weird. 

The newbie's are worried they won't fit in, or find someone to be friends with, or that they'll be ignored, and unnoticed.  EVERYONE is worried about what to wear, and the shoes - dear god, the shoes.  And packing.  No one's started packing yet. 

Hmmm.  I'm a newbie. I was excited about meeting up with Greenish Lady, but her mother died, so she had to fly back home to Ireland for the funeral. So sorry, Imelda.

I'm packed.  I've got travel down to an art.  I could care less about the clothes.  And the shoes?  Am I really spose to care so much about shoes?  What is wrong with me that I don't care about shoes?  Well, maybe that one is a no-brainer, since there's no way I can wear anything but water shoes or flat sandals.  Or Crocs.

No, I'd be too scared to wear Crocs, cause Dooce HATES them.  The whole sordid story is here.  It's not pretty. 

I can't afford to stay at the pricey hotel that they booked for us Bloghers.  I can't afford the drinking and drinking that everyone talks (brags???) about, and I probably shouldn't drink cause of my meds.  I would of course like to meet bloggers, specially the ones I read everyday, but I'm mostly going for inspiration and learning.  I really hope it's not just one big party, but it's really hard to see past all the partying because that's all anyone is talking about.  That and not being packed yet. 

I probably should get to coloring my gray roots, but really ... I'm not really caring if it gets done or not. 

I'm beginning to feel like I'm not gonna fit in cause I was not giving a damn whether I fit in or not.  I think I'm ... unfeminine or something.

Shut up. 

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In other news, I've still got edges of nausea going on, but the new medication really helps.  I'm debating whether to take my walker or not - sure comes in handy at the airport, don't have rent one of those luggage carts. 

I'm so so tired tho. 

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GRRR

Naturally, AFTER finally ordering my new business cards, with my new blog addresses and having to pay extra to get them on time, or risk having to pay almost 4 times as much in shipping charges if I waited longer - I think I understand what happened with TypePad.  Course, it took them taking me back to the "old" version, where I discovered I could do all I wanted to do after all.  And it's mostly me finally putting all the pieces of the puzzle together and not their stellar communication skills, but hey, nothing is perfect. 

The new changes coincided with me being added as a beta tester for new changes.  My understanding in doing so was to test new changes and give them feedback.  I responded to the new changes positively in regards to things the average user were not seeing yet.  But it got complicated in that I responded negatively to the changes that were rolled out to everyone.  I did not know that by being a beta user, I would LOSE features while they ironed things out.  And they weren't clear about explaining the things I was complaining about were a result of me being a beta user.  Those reasons, as well as my browser taking another generation step back into being obsolete have conspired to add a balding head to my spastic existence.  Not pretty.

So.  There's that. 

I do have to say, tho, that using Blogger is sooooo much easier than TypePad.  So much more intuitive, it just makes sense, and soo much less clicking of the damn mouse!  You KNOW how exhausting that is, that mouse clicking.  I am super pleased and WILL be leaving TypePad for reals.  I no dummy - the price of free can't be beat.  The ONLY thing they don't have

For the next couple of weeks, I'll be over-lapping posts to both blogs, until I complete the transfer.  I'll let you know when I make the final goodbye here.  I need to clean this site up a bit cause it'll float in Cyberspace forever and ever, and I can't stand to have my categories in such a mess! 

I am feeling somewhat better, but I tire really easy, and am taking it slow so I'll be able to go to Blogher next week.  The thing that is helping me be better?  The oddest thing ever, but that's another post. 

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Leaving TypePad

TypePad was nice to me back in May, when I needed an extension of service of a few days before I could pay my bill.  They let me keep the blog open, and I really, really appreciated it. 

Having said that, I now have to say how unhappy I have been since the new changes rolled out a month ago.  They've taken away the Search function, which I used ALOT.  I pay for the service to have the ability to have up to 3 blogs.  I spend days designing 2 additional blogs, to introduce in time for the Blogher, only to have the changes not work.  I waited two weeks, hoping they'd get the bugs worked out, only to find out that the ability to have different banners for each blog taken away.  Stands to reason that one would want an appropriate banner for the specified content of the blog, one would think. 

In making their changes, to "take TypePad forward", they''ve gone backwards by taking BIG features away.  The changes weren't big enough to warrant taking away BIG features.

Not only that, but it's taking more than a day and a half to respond to help questions, AND they haven't updated their Knowledge Base, where you can find the answers yourself, to reflect the changes.  I spent DAY AND DAYS trying to figure out why certain things I had done the day before were suddenly not working, only to discover that that my older version of browser no longer worked with TypePad.  Seems like that could have been mentioned somewhere.  I tend to blame myself when something doesn't work, figuring the MS took my brain away, and so the frustration level was extreme.  The laptop has Vista, which would work, but I'm having a hard time learning it, and a hard time with the touchpad (rather than using the mouse) (not complaining!!!), so when I want to accomplish something, it's just easier to use

I left my original blog with Blogger because they didn't offer the ability to be emailed when comments came in, which meant going back to previous posts to see if anyone commented. 

In the last 3 years, Blogger has added tons of new features, including the ability to have different banners for each blog, and the email notification of comments.  And they managed to keep their Search function while doing so!  Every single thing I can do with TypePad (or used to be able to do), paying 80.00 some bucks to do so - Blogger can do for free.  I've been teaching myself CSS/HTML, which Blogger also allows for free, where I'd have to pay even more for that option with TypePad.  As far as I'm concerned, Blogger is a win/win.  More like a win/win/win/win. 

So I'm moving.  Still not to San Francisco, but hey.  At least it's cheaper.  The new address is http://livingwmultiplesclerosis.blogspot.com or Me 'n My Laptop.  I'll spend the next few days transferring my better posts to the new one.  Not the best time to move to a new blog, so close to Blogher, but I can't stand it anymore.  Be sure to bookmark it, and it'd be GREAT if you'd comment, so I know you survived the crossing. 

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Will TypePad actually post my posts??

This is what the garden looked like in the beginning of May, when by some miracle the landlord had the garden tilled to the depth of oh ... about 2 whole inches AND before Mother's Day.  Quite the event around here. 

Then there was this.  On June 11th.  The white dots are snowflakes.

The weather has taken away my mojo as far as gardening and motivation are concerned. 

And TypePad has taken my blogging mojo ever since it's new changes.  I've had nothing but problems with it.  I just noticed that my last 3 posts didn't publish for some reason. 

Cross my fingers for this one.

Also - I'm convinced that the MS is mad at me, and is letting arthritis do what it couldn't seem to.  Cripple me.  Lordy, this hurts.  SFM wants me to meet him and his kids in Reno this weekend, and I really don't think I can go.  I have to go to San Francisco in the middle of July, and am saving up my traveling energy for that. 

Speaking of traveling, SonOne just got back from Japan.  He climbed Mt. Kil em mem jarro.  Too lazy to Google the correct spelling.  Maybe I should ask him to write about it, and put it on my blog?

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Yea, Typepad. Oops. Maybe not so much.

Supposedly, we've got a bunch of new features.  Which might explain why I couldn't log on yesterday.  One of them seems be be not being able to keep up with my typing ... hmmm.  Funny... that one isn't listed in the update.  Very irritating.  And I have no clue why this particular sentence is starting at the right side of the blog and as I type ... it flows to the left!!!

Let's check out changing font ... nope, doesn't work.  Niether does the re-sizing.  The drop-down menu's don't drop down. 

This is way too irritating to write.  The typing is about 10 keystrokes behind.  Will try again later.  Or tomorrow. 

A new beginning

I've got a new name for the blog!!! 

Am working on it now.  Am finally excited about blogging again!!!

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Snicker. It was fun messing with my sister's head. Cause if my head's gonna be messed up, then hers might as well be too

Yes, there is enough left in there to pay the power, cable and cell phone.  But ONLY after I drove most of the way home, pulled off the freeway so I could think extra hard and do the math.  And realized I would have to run back to town and re-deposit half of what I had just withdrawn.  Gahhhhhh. 

The bills are paid.  There is chicken for the dogs.  And tuna in the cupboards for the cats if need be. 

The next option to try in order to avoid this emotional trauma of losing my brain because it stutters and leaps and jerks and gets stuck on one fact or percieved fact ... is to do things in the same order each and every month, with no exceptions.  Don't throw in anything new, like helping my sister who is helping me.  Also, I'll reset the online bills to be paid 5 minutes after the Magic Money comes in.   

The worst part is being proud of myself for doing it good this time.

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My monthly roller coaster, and we're not talking PMS

I wonder if I can write well enough to relay the frustration in my head because of my head, without being confusing or boring?

All last month, I kept a note up on the fridge of the things I needed to do with my next disability check, which comes on the 3rd of the month.  Usually, I forget what I need/want, and so there's always something I've forgotten when it comes time to do my monthly bill-paying and/or shopping.  I hate driving the 25 minutes into our "big city", so try to go only once a month.  With gas now up to $3.54 right now, it's getting ridiculous to drive much anyways.

So, yesterday, the Magic Money came in, early because the 3rd fell on Saturday, so it comes a day early.  I was prepared.  I was ready.  I was proud.  Not only was I ready, but I had it typed up - a list of groceries, and a little budget typed out on the back page, to show my sister what the plan was, and to make sure I knew what money I had left to play with after paying the bills and groceries. 

So do the math with me.  Humor me. 

780.00   (hmmm, there's more in there than usual-must have not spent it all last month.  Cool)

Minus 160.00 for rent = 620.00.  Minus 140.00 for cell, power and cable = 480.00.  Those are the done deals, no messing with, pay every month bills.  So we're at 480.00, and looking good. 

(Now if it were me reading this post, I'd move on, already overwhelmed with the numbers.  Should this happen to you, feel free to skip the details - evidently that's what I do in real life!)  (Just skip to the last 3 paragraphs - and two of those are only a sentence long - bear with me, I promise there's a point).

480.00 minus 90.00 for blogging service (once a year) = 390.00.  Minus 70.00 to my sister for 2 little bills she takes care of so I don't forget and get in trouble again = 320.00.

So!  Those are the half to take care of for the month.  Plus I bought computer memory from Cowinky last month (75.00) and owed him for it.  That and 2 months at Snap Fitness cause I forgot to pay last month ... so let's see ... 320.00 minus 75.00 and 64.00 = 181.00.  Minus 25.00 for chicken (dogfood) and 12.00 for canned catfood = 144.00.

Okay.  There's that.  But here's where it gets screwy.  I went to the bank and withdrew 260.00 cash, 160.00 for my sister, and 100.00 for me for the grocery store.  I bought 2 books for less than 20.00, found the chicken for 1/2 off normal price, and the catfood was also on sale, so I'm still on track. 

But in my mind, my sister is paying the bills.  So, because I gave her 160.00, I'm thinking ... my bills are paid!  I tried to help her out by doing the driving part and getting the money to her, saving her a trip to the bank. 

I've just got to STOP it.  I HAVE to do the same thing, each and every month, but when something goes different ... my thinking serves off-track. 

At Sam's Club, I got my groceries, etc., knowing I had 260.00 in my purse.  Forgetting that I had already given my sister her 160.00.  Wheelie paid for part of my stuff, and we'd stop at the bank and pay her back, right?  She told me not to worry about it, but I knew if I didn't pay her back right away, I would completely forget.  And she wouldn't remind me cause she thinks she owes me for all the housework I do for her, etc.  That wasn't the deal tho.  Anyways, the bank closed earlier than I remembered for a Friday nite, so I promised I'd go this morning (Sat) and get her cash then. 

This morning, I drove into town to the bank to get her cash, and also the Snap Fitness and CoWinky's computer memory money.  That's 64.00 plus 75.00 plus 90.00 for Wheelie = 229.00

Go back to the 8th paragraph - where I end up with 144.00, after paying for petfood, Snap Fitness, and the computer memory.  The balance in the bank was 359.00, so I withdrew 300.00 - thinking all was good!  I'd come out right, and everything was paid for!  I was proud!

I wonder if my sister can see the error of my ways right now? 

Let's just wait to hear from her before I go on.  More fun that way.  I like making her panic. 

*

Oh, and by the way?  I can't find the rent check that the bank prints out for me.

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Is it any wonder why I get so frustrated?

This week's goal was to do some blogging housework.  I was going to get all my widgets working, join the networking sites so that I could spread my blog love around, and set up a blogging schedule of various topics so that when I'm braindead, I could fall back on my topics.  One of which is a new feature called "Tuesday Teeth".  Doesn't that sound intriging?  You damn betcha.  But this is what happened that caused me to running screaming from the room, with my hands tearing out the hair from the top of my head.

1.  My Twitter won't work, so I went to fix it.  It won't update.  Tried and tried.  Tried to contact help.  Their help page won't load.  Made a new account, just to see.  The new one won't work either.  Checked my cookies.  They are enabled, which I'm assuming is necessary. 

2.  Then the Internet went down. 

3.  Then it came back. 

4.  Went to take a picture for Tuesday's blogging assignment, and the batteries were dead. 

5.  Wondered whether I dare tried something else.  Checked my email.  Internet down again. 

6.  Turned on the TV.  Remote wouldn't work. 

7.  Decided to get sewing on a new quilt.  Set up sewing machine.  Got the material and laid out design pattern.  Turned on sewing machine.  Didn't work.  Can't fine the electrical cord that goes with it. 

I give up. 

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That cat

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I'm fadinnnnngg

I'm in the process of copying files for the someday I will be getting a new computer or laptop, and somehow I managed to delete my email's address book.  Actually, there's no "somehow" about it.  I'm getting really stiff in my muscles again, and spastic behaviour of my mouse clicking finger is out of control. 

So if I know you and we've emailed, please email again, so that I can have your email address again.  Hurry!  I feel naked and vulnerable without it!

Did I tell you I washed my cell phone in the washer the other day? 

Yup. 

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Bloggy Gift

Did you notice the little graphic to the right with "Love, Laugh, Live" on it?  Friday made the for me.    It's been there a few days, cause I was trying to fix the little red heart - it's supposed to move, but it looks like the sidebar won't allow dancing hearts.   Thanks Friday!  You're more talented than I am. 

I'm so mad at Blogger right now that I can't see straight.  I'm in the process of moving Jacob's Poems to TypePad.  Time consuming. 

That is all.  Go read Friday - especially the hurricane Katrina ones.  Good read. 

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Update:  I went to look for the Katrina posts and it looks like Friday isn't doing categories.  If I'm wrong about that, pipe up Friday, and let us know. 

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Bringing them home

1am - went to bed.  Which was early for me.

8am - woke up.   In awe.  Slept for SEVEN whole hours.  Without waking up in the middle several times.  Let the dogs out. 

8:05 - laid back down.  Still in awe. 

9:30 - woke back up!  Another hour or so of sleep! 

Watched cats who were suspiciously acting like there was a live mouse in the house.  Would rather not deal with it.

9:35 - went back to sleep.

10:00 - woke up, jumped out of bed and wrote this memorable post. 

I'm so fascinating.  Yes? 

(Rolling of eyes commences)

There is a mouse in the house.  Damn cats. 

Have much to do today as it's the day the Magic Money happens.  Am gonna buy some rain gutters. 

My books have been packed away in Wheelie's basement for a year now, waiting to move.  Now that I've resigned myself to staying here until San Francisco calls, I'm going to bring my books back home.  You know how they say if you haven't used or worn something for over a year - that you should get rid of it cause you didn't miss it?  Well, half my household has been packed away for a year or more.  It's time for a garage sale.  Seriously.  I have too many clothes, kitchen stuff (for someone who doesn't cook?), and knick knacky decorative stuff. 

But I HAVE missed the books.  Which irritates me somewhat, as I never re-read the books I buy.  I can count on one hand the number of books I've re-read.  Even so, I MISS having the books around.  It's not home without books - it feels like I'm in transition without my books around me. 

So.  Am gonna line the walls a foot or so under the ceilings with rain gutter, and use the books more as a decorative aspect of my home.  I'll have 2 and 3 foot sections here and there, and one 12 foot section in one place, and etc. 

Maybe.  Now my precisely, decisive brain is doubting itself.  Will it be too cheap looking?  Hmmm.

Yes.  There has been visual confirmation - there's a mouse in the house. 

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Dilemma

Even tho I said I was going to stay here in Rigby and not move into town, I kept myself on the list.  There's an apartment open now, and I went to look at it, and had to make up my mind today.

Pros:

It's MUCH friendlier atmosphere.  Has a much nicer lounge area.  More laundry facilities.  A front door and back door.  No long hallways.  A little porch and tiny garden plot.  The apartment is smaller, but I can live with that.  Am allowed to have bird feeders, and potted outdoor plants and squirrel feeders, etc.  (Not allowed here)  And most importantly, it's 3 blocks away from the river front "Greenbelt", where I can walk year round, and it's really a nice walking path, scenery, etc. 

Cons: 

Will not accept four pets.  Cannot keep cats.  Those damn cats. 

Hmmm.  I bet I could get someone to adopt my kitties here in the building.  I could.  If I really, really wanted to move ... I could.  Yes, I could.

Well. 

Evidently I couldn't.  I told her no, but to re-list me, which will put me back at the bottom of the list.  This could all be moot if San Francisco would just call me!  I'd give up my cats for San Francisco, but not Idaho Falls.  So.  I am staying here.  But you know what was sooooo freaking hard about making the decision?  Am I gonna get struck dead, dumb or deaf for ignoring an omen? 

The apartment number was #24.

Those of you who are my regular readers need to tell me (and the rest of the Internet) why the #24 is important. 

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I don't do numbers

Number of dead mice Hiney has brought into the house:  6

Number of hours since I last slept:  36

Number of pain pills I've taken today:  4 times too many

Number of times I've sat down to blog:  72

Number of blogs completed:  Zero.  Perhaps one, should I press "publish" on this one.

Number of things I've forgotten:  ??? 

Number of dog walks taken each day:  1

Number of marathon training sessions each day:  1  (I do especially well on Fridays and Sundays, as those are Rest Days).

Number of telephone calls I've ignored in the last week:  72

Number of times I've wanted to scream with frustration:  72  Why:  The fine finger control required for putting on leashes and collars, doling out treats when they come when they're called, holding the camera steady, trying to keep the ear phones/ear buds/glasses on my head.  Opening a can of catfood. 

Number of pounds gained via "using food as a pain pacifier":  Too many.

Number of times I've watched the animal cruelty shows in the middle of the nite:  at least 2 each nite.  Number of times I've cried each nite while watching stupid animal cruelty shows:  at least twice each nite. 

Number of animals I wish I could adopt:  All of them.

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This, That and The Other Thing

Yesterday was day one for the marathon training.  Let's just agree right here and now that when I say "marathon", I'm doing HALF a marathon, but it seems so time consuming to write "half marathon" all the time.  Mmmm k?

...

Well, now I feel all hoity toity.  Pretentious. 

Yesterday was day one for the 1/2 marathon training. 

3 min warm-up, 30 minutes semi-fast walking, 2 min cool down.  Done.  More like 40 minutes.  My sister can testify that I was out there in the blustery elements, keeping my commitment.  I already feel better.  Speaking of which ...

Me:  Muttin, you're fat.

Muttin:  Kettle black much?  Who gained 4 pounds last week, hmmm?

Me:  That would be me, but it was my last hurray before the training starts.  As you well know, since I TOLD you that. 

Muttin:  When did you tell me that?

Me:  Every time you stared at me as I walked into the kitchen, remember?

Muttin:  No, I didn't hear you.  You know you need to make eye contact with me when you say something.  Don't all the dog books tell you that?  Doesn't your good friend, Cesar Melan explain to you the importance of eye contact?

Me:  Well, actually, he says that any dog that makes sustained eye contact with their master is believing they're the top dog, Missy. 

Muttin:  I only do that cause you confuse me and I'm trying to figure you out.  I only WISH you would take charge so that I can rest for a change. 

Me:  Yea, right. 

Muttin:  Yea, right. 

Me:  Don't mock me.  Anyways, to get back to it, you're fat and you're going to work out with me. 

Muttin:  What about Jeffrey?

Me:  He goes too, but typically, he's not fat.  That's just the way of Mother Nature, sweetie.  We females eat the same thing the males do, and we get fat.

Muttin:  Why is that?

Me:  I dunno.  Something about making babies maybe.  I seem to remember reading something about that.

Muttin:  Well, I wouldn't know about that, now would I?  Seeing as how you took it upon yourself to make it so I couldn't have babies.

Me:  I'm a responsible pet owner - that's what I'm supposed to do.  Don't tell me you want puppies!?  You don't have a nurturing bone in you body!

Muttin:  Perhaps it was taken away from me along with my ovaries?  Have you ever wondered why I have attitude, hmmm?

Me:  . . .

Muttin:  There ya go. 

Me:  Lordy.  I don't know why I even try.  It always seems like I'm on a sinking ship and you're the only one with a life jacket when we have these little talks.

M:uttin:  (Snorts)

*****

Today's training is 30 minutes of cross training, which means either weight-lifting or Pilate's, or yoga.  I haven't decided what I'll be doing, but it'll be reported on tomorrow.  You have to help me be accountable, Internet.  And readers.

Ben invited me to come visit him in San Diego again, and said something about going to a wild animal park.  So I have to figure out the dog situation again - Cowinky is having surgery, and the lady that helped last time too, is moving out. 

SFM was supposed to come home to San Francisco yesterday, but missed his plane.  I was wide awake all night last nite, so we talked half the night away, while he waited the 16 or so hours at the JFK airport for the next flight.  I guess this not being able to sleep is good for something once in awhile. 

I came up with this BRILLIANT idea on how to focus myself to one task at a time, rather than flitting from one to another as if I were a beautiful butterfly with no time on my hands, and all the time in the world to get things done. 

Well, to be truthful, I DO have time on my hands, and all the time in the world.  Which translates into me seeming to believe I can always "do it tomorrow".  Therefore, never getting anything done.  Or during the times of no pain, I get overwhelmed with what to do first and become stuck with doing nothing cause it's too confusing.

In an effort to solve this problem, I wrote the projects I want to do on little pieces of paper, and put them in a bowl on the coffee table.  Pink slips of paper mean that task needs to be done right away.  I cut up strips of paper, so that it's easy to grab when I remember things I want to do.  So far, this has been working really well, mostly for my focusing problem.  I'm not allowed to pick up an new piece of paper out of the bowl till the one in my hand is done.  And I keep the current project/slip of paper on the refrigerator.  Of all the methods I've tried to do to help me remember and be organized, this one has worked.  Partly because I LOVE the green bowl. 

So the current task is writing my training schedule down on the calendar, so I don't have to check out the website every day.  Cause once I get on line, I'm done for in productivity terms.  Damn Internet. 

One of the projects that I'm so excited about is putting my things for sale using Etsey.  I've got denim purses that I make out of a pair of jeans, the fuzzy quilts, Christmas bread ornaments, and Spider Doorway Blockers.  I think the Etsey project will be tomorrow's project.

Must go now. 

Great timing

Mir of Woulda Coulda Shoulda deemed today "International Stuck-in-my-Craw Day", where basically you get to bitch and complain to your hearts content. 

Naturally.  Just when I've read The Secret, which told me to banish ALL negative thoughts and energy. 

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The Plan, the Plan

I am in my Martha Stewart mode.  Needing everything in my life just so. 

1.  Computer files

2.  Real life files - make index of what is where so I know where to find the damn papers that show my weight loss with Curves.

3.  Copy music for new computer

4.  Copy files for new computer

5.  Make schedule for life.  Cause you're forgetting EVERYTHING.  Was supposed to go see my daughter-in-law (no longer dammit.  I LOVE her), and completely forgot until I came across one of Duke's toys just now.  Don't forget cleaning house for Wheelie, and playing Pinochle.  And home health aide, nurse, and doctor appointments.  And yoga or Pilate's time.  Start treating health as an 8 hour job again.  Okay, maybe just part-time ...

6.  Schedule blogging time - treat it like a job.  I really have to write.  Everything just goes around and around in my head, and nothing happens until I get it OUT of me.  I HAVE to write in order to be sane. 

7.  I really, really miss my son. 

*

Just Call Me Lonely Tonite

. 

It's because I'm listening to Peter, Paul and Mary.  My god, I AM 50! 

I've got my media player on shuffle, and the damn thing keeps landing on "If You're Going to San Francisco".  It's making me cry.  Really. 

Hmmm ... I'd forgotten how the hormones rage when Riding the Cotton Pony.  Womanhood be damned - I could do without the mood swings. 

.

Things You Never See In Idaho

1.  Democrats

2.  People with AIDS - gasp!

3.  Homosexuals - more gasping! 

4.  Highway billboards being changed.  One day it's advertising cell phones, the next day it's all about the new bank in town.  How did it happen?

*

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

My computer is so messed up that I have to reboot about every 15 minutes.  Pop-up blockers aren't working, which adds more junk, and I'm ready to scream. 

That is all. 

Blah blah blah

I am a contrary being.  It's so frustrating. 

I decided to take a break from blogging.  As soon as I did, I felt like blogging again.  Since I said I was taking a break, I made do with the ring tone posts, to fill in.  Then I decided I'd start blogging again after the new year started.  As soon as I decided that, I didn't feel like writing again. 

Hence, the "Blogging without Obligation" logo on the left.  Click on it and read what it's about if you're curious.  No biggie.

Course ... I'll find some way to be contrary regarding not being obligated too, I'm sure.

I've put collars on the cats.  With bells.  They're not happy.  Hiney looks quite dapper in his black and white checkered collar, but you can't see Barf's at all, partly cause it blends in with his coloring, but also because he's got the thick mane of a lion.  He's quite offended, as he's told me MANY times - lions don't wear collars.  And as I've told him just as many times - lions that belong to me DO wear collars because it's cute.  We go round and round on this, but as I'm the one with the opposable thumbs that can manuver putting the collar on - I win.  So far. 

I built myself a walk-in closet.

Oh yes I did. 

Oprah told me that clutter can hinder sleep.  As I got rid of my dresser drawers, now my clothes sit on shelves.  I decided that was too cluttery, so I used the bookshelves as a wall, with the back towards my bed, and the open shelves towards the closet.  Wa la.  So clever.  And less clutter! 

I also changed my living room around too.  So for the last 5 days, my house has been in a turmoil.  I really like the way it is now. 

Oh!  I've applied for housing in Spokane too.  With my luck, Idaho Falls, San Francisco, and Spokane will all call me at once. 

UPDATE:  The day after I wrote this, Idaho Falls housing called two old ladies who live here, who wanted to move to IF.  They were behind me on the list, so why I didn't get called before them was a mystery.  Until I called, and discovered they have an upstairs unit available, and I have to have to ground level.  Poo.

Taking a Break

I won't be blogging for at least the rest of December.  Recent revelations have taken the wind out of my sails, and I feel too unsafe and vulnerable.  That sounds ominous, doesn't it?  It's nothing serious, and I don't mean "physical" or stalker type unsafe because someone knows where I live or has threatened anything kjind of unsafe.  Just that I don't feel comfortable with sharing the things I want to write, and yet, not wanting to share because of ... the things I write being used as ammunition, and I'm suffering a crisis of confidence - of feeling unworthy for much of anything.  I even keep forgetting to feed those damn cats, and then when I do remember, I find myself squinting at them with resentment ... and wondering how long they can go without food...

I kid!  They always have dry food - it's the canned food that just takes too much energy.  Plus I put Barf on notice that if he doesn't stop with the incessant talking constantly, then he doesn't DESERVE canned cat food. 

So I'm taking this time for a break, and to decide whether I want to continue blogging.  It's possible I may start up somewhere else, but that's probably ridiculous, unless I decide not to write about the dogs, or MS so I can't be found again.  All someone would have to do is do a search for the dogs, and I do come up quite high in the MS blogs on occasion.  Maybe if I change the puppy's name, and change the disease?  Can you imagine me not writing about the dogs??!!  Ain't gonna happen! 

But should I decide to start blogging elsewhere, I'll be glad to email the new URL address to those of you who want it.  There are several loyal readers who never comment (hi Kuna!) but feel free to email (link in the sidebar) to say so, and I'll be sure to do it, when and if I begin again.  Those who do comment - you're on the list already. 

Thanks to all you - it's been fun, and helpful, and therapeutic and and and ... well, you know.  Some of you are closer to me than those in real life and that means alot to me. 

*

Just Call Me Tired

. 

Oh yea, also, a large part that is making me feel so lackluster is the pain, and not getting any sleep.  I average about 3 hours a nite, which conincidently is the duration of the cycle of each dose of meds.  Imagine that.  But if I take extra doses, I'll run out for the last week or two of the month, and the doctor says I'm at the maximum doses of both the Ultram and Lyrica.  The next step is the big guns (narcotics?) and I am afraid of those, as I shouldn't have them in the house during certain times of the year.  Like Christmas!  And New Year's! if you know what I'm saying.  Wthout the physical pain, I could be alot better about dealing with certain issues going on, or at least be stronger about taking the punches if I wasn't dealing with The Hands and Feet from Hell. 

.

Get thee to Radio Shack

256mb memory cards are $6.00

1G memory cards are $10.00

2G memeory cards are $20.00 (normally $60)

Also CA Anti-Virus Plus & Spyware 2008 Free

Reader cards are $12.00 and now I don't have to mess with that damn cable.  There's something wrong inside my camera - I have to hold it in tight for it to connect and download the pictures, even with a new cable.

Sale over tomorrow - December 8th

Let the pictures begin!

*

Just Call Me I SCORED!

.

Spelling Lesson

I am having a day.  This day is not working right.

Neither is my camera.  Neither is my other camera.  My hands and feet would like a reprieve.  The feet are bright red, and perhaps being on fire would be a good description. 

I got a wild hair and decided to clear all surfaces.  I'm trying to stop myself from re-arranging my bedroom.  I have bookcases for my clothes, because the dressers were too dark and gloomy.  Oprah told me a serene bedroom is good if you're having trouble sleeping.  Even tho I know it's pain that is keeping me awake, I prefer to believe it's because I see the clothes and start an internal debate that I'm unaware of - of what to wear when I get up.  I prefer to think this because it's fixable, and my pain is not. 

I requested the easy caps to my pill bottles this time, because I'm too weak to open the child-proof ones.  The ease of just popping off the cap was wonderful, but I was having trouble with one of them.  Simply could not get it open.  So I took it out to the lobby and ask an old people if he could open it.  He unscrewed the cap.  Oh.  A simple screw cap ... who knew?  I claim it's the MS, as I furrow my brow to show the irritation I have to live with, FOR HELLS SAKE!!!

Now I can't baby-sit my neice's baby, because I'm not child-proofed. 

I've got Josh Groban's Christmas CD playing quite loud.  These apartments are amazingly sound-proof.  Boy, I have alot of words with "ie", "ei:", and "-" in them today.  It's irritating me, because I have to stop and think 'i before e, exept for the c" thingy, and half the time I don't believe that little ditty.

I'm off to buy a damn camera cord to connect to my camera.  I can actually visualize the moment I threw it in the garbage, thinking I didn't use that one. 

TTFN

Sex lottery

Okay, I need to get to working on this blog.  I have so many ideas to improve it, so I can start to make money from it.  But when I sit down, I am overwhelmed with all the ideas and sit here with my teeth in my head instead. 

Speaking of The Teeth, things are good there.  I'm getting used to smiling without them dropping out.  And Muttin hasn't got her teeth on them.  Mostly cause I KEEP them in my mouth for safe-keeping. 

I went to a fabric store yesterday to pick out one more piece for a quilt for my kid/s.  I found several patterns that would work, but most of them were $19.o0 bucks a yard.  Then I walked around to the other side of the table, and there was a sign saying "Sale $2.50 a yard".  Awesome.  So I bought two yards of several pieces, and I probably will have enough for 4 quilts. 

Last Christmas, I gave my mom and sister the gift of my time once a month, to do a chore, run an errand, go to lunch or a movie.  I  re-organized my sister's closet, and a movie with my mom.  For the first few months, I called and asked what they needed, and they couldn't think of anything.  My sister was supposed to get me started on organizing her photos, but she hasn't done it yet.  Eventually, I forgot all about it, until this Christmas when I'm wondering what to do for their Christmas.  Obviously, they don't want my time ... sniff.

On Oprah today, she told me about a research study about sex that said increasing having sex from once a month to once a week, was equivalent to getting a $50,000.00 bonus or lottery ticket.  In happiness terms.

!!!!  Ahem ...  just a shout out to my FWB ... I can fly free, anywhere, anytime ... 

Okay, now I'm distracted, and can't think.

*

Just Call Me Done With Blogging Today

.

Monday blues

I haven't blogged in awhile, it seems.  I go thru this every time I come from San Francisco.  I WANT to write about my visit, and the place I love, but dayy-um, I hate coming home. 

His roommate was horrible once again.  To both of us this time.  Tell me, if you had guests, would you come unglued should that guest put some food into the wrong food recycling thingy?  It was the liver from the turkey, and I asked SFM where to put it, and he said in the food scrape recycling bucket - so I did.  Boy, was that a mistake!  If I had been the hostess - I would have simply corrected it on my own, knowing that not everyone knows how you like things CAUSE YOU DON'T LIVE THERE, and not said a word.  I could understand being such a snip about it had I planned on being there for a month, or even a couple of weeks.  But nooooo.  Bad Laurie gets chastised about it, and "if you don't know where something goes, just leave it in the dish rack, and behind my back to SFM, "She left the front door open last nite".  Ummm no.  I washed the dishes, SFM put them away PRECISELY because I don't know where things go.  And nooo, I didn't leave the front door open - the other roommate came in after us, later that night. 

Other than that, it was great.  We went to the ocean, did I mention that?  I like the ocean. 

My son called and needs me to babysit Duke again at Christmas time.  He and SmartGirl want to go back to her parents in Connecticut for the holiday.  I'll explain later why she's got "Smart Girl" for her blogname, cause one wouldn't necessarily she would be under the circumstances of how she came into his life and got LIED to in a MAJOR way.  But smart she is, and I like her, and I LOVE Duke, and I'm a sucker for whatever my son wants from me, evidently, cause I said yes immediately.  Wait.  I'm not a sucker.  Unless it comes to finding kittens in my car.  I just love that Duke dog.  SonOne said he'd pay for my gas to drive up there, so I can have my dogs with me.  I'm leaning that way, altho I do like the idea of flying the friendly skies at Christmas time.  And stresing my sister and mother. 

I was seriously thinking I'd go to San Diego/Ben for Christmas, but when SonOne calls, SillyMom jumps.  Can you tell I'm a little bit upset with myself?  Yes, I am.  I consider inviting Ben up, but he's got a young daughter whom he should definitely stay home for.  SanFranMan is hoping he'll be able to see his kids for Christmas, but is unsure if it'll work out.  So I invited him to come with me to Spokane, cause I can't stand the thought of him being alone for Christmas without his kids.  Maybe Ben can come for the New Year's end. 

Still dealing with PPGuy's shit.  And I do mean shit.  He got all lined up with a daily nurse, daily house-keeping, daily personal care.  Last Thursday and Friday, he got dressed and put on shoes!  I was shocked to see how tall he actually is.  He was nice to be around.  Well, compared to what he is normally.  He was funny, and he remembered things.  I told him I can't get the beer for him anymore.  He didn't seem to be too upset.

Ah, but there's still the damn cigarettes.  Gotta have those cigarettes.  On a daily basis.  Cigarettes = another excuse to have to go to the store so he can buy beer too.  So Saturday he asked me to take him, and I told him yes, but he couldn't buy any beer.  All that does is make him more sneaky, and I knew it.  I knew he'd buy it, and hide it.  So he had 2 stupid beers, and Saturday nite I couldn't wake him up for his meds.  And I saw that he'd had his shitty accidents too. 

So today, when he asked to go to the store, I said no, cause I knew he'd buy beer, and I'm not gonna be responsible for his downward spiral again.   Did I mention that the day he went to the hospital, his blood sugar was 406?  He's diabetic, btw.  When he came out of the hospital, it was 80.  He was withen minutes of going into a diabetic coma.  Which you can die from, even WITH medical intervention. 

I'm REALLY upset with the home health services people because they assumed I'd take care of him the weekend, since they don't come in on the weekends.  I found this out, by reading the notes they had left me.  To make sure he took his meds on time (7 different prescriptions), check his blood sugar 4 times a day, and make sure he took his insulin.  Ahem.  When did I get my nursing degree? 

He's in a bind.  Without the calories of the beer, he's a eating machine, trying to fill the void of the alcohol.  If he eats, he shits.  I haven't determined why he can't get to the toilet, or flush, but it is what it is.  If he shits, I get disgusted with him, and don't want to help.  If he doesn't have help, he'll drink willy nilly.  If he drinks willy nilly, he doesn't eat.  If he doesn't eat, his blood sugar goes nuts.  When his blood sugar goes nuts, he goes to the hospital.  When he goes to the hospital, he comes out stronger.  When he's stronger, he thinks he can walk to the store for his beer.  Which he can't, really, but he thinks he can and it's freaking winter now. 

He asked me 3 times this morning to take him to the store.  Three times, I said no.  Saying no is exhausting!

*

Just Call Me Sick and Tired of being Sick and Tired

.

Bleh

If I'm too depressed to fly to San Francisco for Thanksgiving, does that mean hell has froze over again? 

Then there's tentative plans for San Diego (heads up, Ben!) for Christmas. 

The responsiblilty of the dogs and cats just weighs so heavy sometimes.  I hate putting them in the kennel, altho they did just fine.  And I hate asking others to look in on them. 

The weather sucks. 

Update: 

Something seems to be wrong with my Firefox browser, which is what I usually use.  I've written a couple more posts in the last 2 days, and for some reason, they didn't show up.  Also can't see the banner, or most of the colors in Typepad.  I just now tried it in Explorer, and it works perfectly.  ??  Weird. 

I will write more on the Adult Child Poll in a bit.  Altho, I think Walls said it all.  I wish she'd tell us how she really feels.  Heh.

I was depressed about San Francisco a few days ago - that post hadn't showed up till I fixed it today in Explorer.  All I can figure out is the weather is a HUGE factor in my moods.  The sun showed up yesterday, today is a bee u tee ful day, altho there is some damn snow on the ground, but I feel GREAT!  Bring it ON, Snow God.  I just won't come home from San Francisco, uh huh.  I'll show you, stupid Snow God. 

More later, have to go take care of my drunk and my millionaire this morning. 

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

.

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
.

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
. 

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.

*
Just Call Me Tired
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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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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.

. 

Ahem.

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Awwwww ...

.

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? 

*
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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Help, help

Is there ANY chance that one of my readers would have saved the story about the owls stalking me and the dogs? 

I've lost them. 

Just Call Me Pissed
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A Conversation with Myself

I came across a cool idea in another blog for my birthday.  I'm going to be 50 years old this year, so I thought I'd made a list of 50 things I want to do before I die.  So here's s how the thought process went:

Conscious: That'd be cool.  Maybe I'll do that.
Unconscious:  You better get to it.
Conscious:  I know.  It'll take forever to come up with 50 things, huh?
Unconscious:  And you don't have that much time.
Conscious:  As in ... much time left, do you mean?  Huh?  Do you know something I don't know?
Unconscious:  No, idiot, you don't have that much time until you're 50.
Conscious:  Ohhhhhhhhhh.  Naw, I have plenty of time.  Over a year. 
Unconscious:  What the hell?
Conscious:  What yourself, what are you getting mad at me for?
Unconscious:  Duh.  When's your birthday?
Conscious:  October.  You know that.
Unconscious:  Yea.... (pregnant pause)
Conscious:  (light dawns) Ohhhhhhhhhhh.  Shit.  That's THIS year I'll be fifty. 
Unconscious:  Yea ... (waiting for more light to dawn)
Conscious:  Ack!  That's in just a couple of months!

The Unconscious has no more to say because it's merged into the Conscious.  About time. 

*
Just Call Me Horrified
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The price of popularity

I am getting a buttload of comment spam, and I don't know how to stop it.  I thought TypePad had a system where I could choose a safeguard against it, but I can't find it anymore.  Does anyone know?  It showed a series of letters and/or numbers in a shaded box, and the commenter had to retype them into a box. 

Whatever you do, don't click on the links withen their stupid comments

Help help.

Ten on Tuesday

Evidently, while in hot weather, which for me means anything over 70 degrees, I need more pain meds.  Or maybe it's if I don't keep on top of it, I can't recover, the pain takes over.  Or it takes longer for the meds to work. 

Or something. 

All I know is that it hurts in Idaho and it didn't in San Francisco for more than the 20 minutes or so that it took for the meds to take effect.  I'd forget to take them (NO!  Not me!  Unbelievable)  But then I take them, and 20 minutes later I'd be good to go. 

And if I'd known that menopause simply meant having a period one day and then not again for going on 6 weeks?  Hell, I would have been all over it.  I thought hot flashes and boobs falling off and losing your sexual prowess was what menopause was all about.  I had a couple of hot flashes about 8 years ago, and maybe a few little ones since then - is all.  Menopause?  Easy peasy.  If I don't watch out, I'm gonna lose my sympathy readers - those who feel sorry for me cause I've got MS, and because of Jacob, and the hard, tough life I've lead.  Nooobody knows ... the troubles I've seeeeeen ... noooobody knooowws but me .....sniff. 

But when I tell you about how the animals were while I was gone, perhaps I'll win those readers back.  Have I ever mentioned that having 3 dogs, and 2 kittens make life hell?   More on that when my hands quit hurting.

Ten on Tuesday's question for the day is "Name 10 things you will NEVER do again".  Feel free to participate in her blog, or answer the questions here in the comments.

1.  Hopefully, I will NEVER have another period again for the rest of my life.  Who knew menopause was so pleasant?!

2.  Become a stupid girl again, believing that men will only love you if you keep your mouth shut and do the housework perfectly.

3.  Become addicted to soap operas like I was in my 20's.  I believe being addicted to reality TV is MUCH healthier.

4.  Run out of meds for a 3-day weekend and you can't reach a doctor or a pharmacy.

5.  Trust someone 110%.  I think it's good to maintain a pinch of skepticism in order to preserve a sense of self.  Not good to give yourself away blindly. 

6.  Have 3 dogs and 2 cats after the current 3 dogs and 2 cats leave home either by son, death, or give aways.

7.  Be in the morbidly obese or even obese category again.  I'm now considered just overweight, and need to lose 20 more pounds in order to be at the healthy range. 

8.  I'll never take diving lessons again.  Flunking 3 different times was enough. 

9.  Have 2 puppies at the same time, same age.  I still shudder when I think of Muttin/Jeff's first 2 years. 

10.  And I'll never take my health for granted ever again. 

What's yours, reader dears? 

*
Just Call Me Still Exhausted w/Hurting Hands
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The Results

The pregnancy test came out negative. 

Which is a good thing. 

But it was a .99 cent pregnancy test. 

So ... there's that. 

But we're going with it,

and one of us is old. 

Course, the other one

supposedly is not old.

Which sucks. 

*

Just Call Me Relieved

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There's nothing to worry about

Well, I'm just really really thrilled with how everyone else ISN'T worried about how I COULD be pregnant.  That's just fine and dandy.  I'll just sit here and worry all by myself. 

Sniff.

SanFranMan bought me a ticket to San Francisco for this coming Monday which is really really a good thing.  Cept for the part where my money doesn't come till the following Friday, I've changed banks and don't have checks or debit or credit card yet, rent is due, the power bill will be past due, all next week, and I don't have a dime until said Friday!  How I'm to pay bills without checks, or debit card is beyond my thinking capabilities right now, and I'm slightly cursing our timing.  Plus?  He just bought the ticket one-way to San Francisco, so I'm not sure just when I'm coming home so I can tell the landlady I'll pay it on such and such day when I get back, I swear. 

Sniff.

Speaking of timing, did I mention I COULD BE PREGNANT???  Can't be menopause, because I had a hot flash a couple years ago, and none since, so I'm all done.  So there.  Fine!  FINE.

Sniff.

Why would I prefer to be pregnant over menopause?  That's insane. 

Sniff. 

But that's okay, people.  I'll be fine.  I'll sit here and worry all by myself. 

I think I'll take the dogs swimming. 

*
Just Call Me Late
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Saturday Notes

'''''''''''

n't she the sweetest thing?  No, seriously.  That's what she wants me to ask you.  Whatever. 

WheelChairLady bought me a bike a couple months ago, and I'm just now bringing it home from her place so I can ride it on a regular basis.  I had to buy a lock, which was very expensive, but looked like Fort Knox to break into - until I realized the bracket that holds it ON to the bike is made out of plastic.  How stupid is that?  The lock is supposed to be foolproof, as far as not being able to chop it apart ... cept a hammer can make it all moot by breaking the plastic brackets! 

Then I put a little basket on the front, and a horn.  Ha!  I shall giggle my way around Rigby, beeping at people.  Specially little old people.  And I changed the seat to a more comfortable one - that was fun.  Meaning ... I just lied.  Cause it was not fun.  And bikes are greasy.  Black grease greasy, to be specific. 

Now all I have left to do is bitch to the landlady about there being no room to lock up my bike on the bike rack out front because it's full of little kid bikes.  Little kids who don't live here.  There's room for 2 bikes normally and there's 7 of them out there.  It's fortunate tho, otherwise my bitcher might get out of practice if it didn't get out once a day. 

I've got to count laps tonite - all I can say is it's going to be hot hot hot and I'm not looking forward to being stupid from the heat.  Speaking of which, SFM went to the races with me last week and we took our own refreshments, disguised as ummm, refreshments.  Yesterday, I grabbed one of my water bottles of water from the fridge, took a big swig, and choked/spit it right back out all over the floor/kitchen, believing I'd just drank some sort of poison, possibly Raid Bug Spray - it was that nasty.  Then I thought "What in the hell is SFM putting vodka in MY water bottles for????".  I had no warning - turns out its true that vodka has no smell.  When I drink vodka, it's disguised as orange juice, with about 30 parts orange juice to 1 part vodka.   I forgot that we'd put our drinks (mine being a yummy Kalua and Cream) in the water bottles for the races.   Evidently he forgot that he'd put nearly a full bottle in the fridge and it seems orange juice settles to the bottom - so I got a pure shot of the rat poison.  Since I was on my way out the door, I didn't have time to clean it off the floor - the last thing I saw was a kitten licking it.  From the condition of the house when I got home, there seems to have been a wild cat party.  Wicker everywhere.  Oh wait ... that's the decor - my bad. 

I think this is a repeat picture - but it's one of my favorites.  It reminds me of the 'dog days of summer'.

Which it is. 

*

Just Call Me Can't Wait Till Sunday Cause There's a NASCAR race.

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Also should have been posted last Thursday

I suddenly became stressed, realizing that I'm going to have SonOne and SanFranMan here at the same time.  Along with ... Muttin/Jeff, Duke, Barf and Hiney.  And getting ready for a garage sale.  Without a pick-up or a place to move the stuff that I do want to keep, cause we're getting rid of the storage unit.  Or a place to have the garage sale, for that matter. 

I'm going to have to do some remodeling around home and create the illusion of more space, cause one of us told me that it's a bit ... busy around here. 

We're going to have a garage sale with the storage unit stuff that came from George's house after he died.  So I figure it's a good time to get rid of a good amount of my stuff too.  A couch/hide-away bed will be going.  Then I'll have more space. 

It just occurred to me ... my son has a pick-up.

I'm a pretty lackadaisical type of girl - or else it's because I can't keep a thought in my head for more than 2 minutes when I'm in pain like I am right now.  So every time I turn around, I see something I need to do before my company comes.

1.    Clean out the  ridiculous amount of shower paraphernalia out of the bathtub. 
2.    Make it so we can eat at the dining table. 
3.    Clean out car.  Wash car.  Vacuum car. 
4.    Work on SFMson's quilt. 
5.    Train kittens to behave. 
6.    Train kittens not to sleep on heads or pillows. 
7.    Train dogs not to sleep on heads or pillows for that matter. 
8.    Make room in bedroom for a very tall man with space issues. 
9.    Make cookies for SonOne.
10.  Grocery shop.

11.  Make the bed longer for very tall man.  Any ideas how?

Must go now. 

UPDATE: I managed all the tasks above that don't involve animals. 

*

Just Call Me Hassled and Harried

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Correct me if I'm wrong

There's a toothpaste commercial that starts out with a lady up close, real confiding like, and she says something like this; "I got a little worried, (dramatic pause), when I saw that there's (another dramatic pause) "a little pink in the sink". 

I held my breath, fully expecting her to tell me that her sink was pregnant.  Don't the home pregnancy tests turn pink if it's positive? 

Just my luck!

The San Francisco online news website contacted me again and wanted my blog address.  Which made me go back and re-read the suggestions from you for what to send to them ... they were great suggestions.  There was absolutely nothing wrong with them, they were common sense, and thoughtful and kind.  And logical, too. 

On paper, it looks a little different. 

The dog chats are popular, yes.  But they clearly prove I am crazy.  Obviously, I've got too much time on my hands.  I don't remember them talking when I had a job and a house and a yard and a fence and my own trees and driveway and my own grass to mow and snow to shovel and a cul-de-sac.  And I'm not so sure about some of my readers, because it's obvious you've been duped by the dogs too.  (It's nice not to feel so alone!)  But really ... is proving I'm crazy right from the get-go the proper thing to do on a job resume? 

And the other suggestion was to pick something I've written about the MS.  Ahem.  What MS?  Okay, fine.  Perfectly logical, altho I'm pretty sure every post I've written about MS has nasty words, which isn't proper for a job application.  The blog is about MS, and as it turns out, talking dogs.  But again ... having MS isn't really what one puts on a job appy either. 

I think it was Walls who suggested I write about the Old People that I live with.  That too, made me laugh, cause I've often lamented the fact that I don't have kids or spouse to blog about, so life is a bit boring around here.  I'm afraid that's the reason I'm developing a hallucinatory life regarding talking dogs.  Hallucinatory?  If it's not a word - it should be.  One would think there'd be a dearth of material with half of the residents being over 80 years old, and the other half are young whipper snappers who never pick up their dog poops.  I will have to open an Old People file in my mind and start watching for material. 

I did hear one of them tell another "There goes the dog lady" as I passed by.  I guess it's better than Pooper Scooper.  Altho, around here, that'd be a compliment, cause I'm the only one who DOES pick up her poopies.  Again, resume material?  I think not.

It's definitely a weird experience, sending off a blog address/resume (they asked for it) that glaringly exposes what one would normally NOT SHARE when trying to get a job.

Yeeps. 

*

Just Call Me Nervous

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And naturally, they'd contact me when I've been Boring Than Bored Can Ever Be, AND?  My spell-checker bailed on me.  Nice.

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