Me 'n My Laptop

Just a little update for the people

An email I just sent to SFM earlier today:

I'm watching a movie on Sci Fi.  Normally don't watch this channel, but when I was channel surfing, there was a picture of the Golden Gate bridge.  I don't know the name of the movie, but it's about "The Big One".  The earthquake starts in Washington, another in Oregon, then the lady scientist predits San Francisco, but no one believes her.  Sure enough, another earthquake levels San Francisco.  Fema and the President Bo Bridges finally believe her.  She says plant 5 nuclear bombs in certain places, to fuse the previous fault lines to the San Andreas.  Wouldn't you know, they don't get the 5th one deep enough, the cable breaks.  The Fema guy goes down to set it off manually, knowing he won't make it.

 

Wait.  Maybe you're seen it?  Or maybe you're tempted to turn it on.  Kids probably shouldn't watch it.  It's pretty scary and hits too close to home.  It's really good acting and special effects, so pretty realistic.  I'm completely in awe.  And exhausted from watching it - intense!

 

And terrified.

 

Get the hell out of there!!!  If the earthquake doesn't get you, the nukes or the flood will !!!  I better warn Ben too, in San Diego.  If they don't stop it, the entire California coast will disappear. 

 

Okay...

 

In other news, I just got an email with times I'm supposed to work at the Blogher conference.  They want me to confirm my presence.  I should have known better, cause the last 2-3 weeks have been a wake-up call - that I can't promise a damn thing in my life.  If it doesn't get better ... won't be able to help Linda, babysit my grand nephews, OR travel.  I've been laid out flat by this last flare, and am pretty scared.  I know I'm stuck in a vicious circle - losing weight helped.  , but moving hurts like hell. 

 

I need to move to San Francisco.  So we can die to together, friends supporting each other to the end.  Or else one or the other of us will die, without being able to tell each other we came to our senses and love each other after all.  Or we will declare our love to each other and survive against all odds, our newfould strong love carries us thru.  Or else we'll be torn apart and realize we've got to start living our lives somehow and get out of this rut we're in.  Or else, some hero will save me, and I fall in love with him. 

 

HAHAHA - rut.  No pun intended. 

 

Lord, the next movie is about a killer astroid.  Don't know what city it'll be. 

 

Ack, a small one just hit Montana.  There's many "baby" astroids that will hit all over.  This is just great.  You're gonna die in a earthquake, and I'm gonna die under an astroid.  One just hit Coulee Dam.  The big one?  (As in astroid, not earthquake) Kansas City and 70 - 100 miles radius.  Only 2 million people projected dead in this one. 

 

I'm blogging this.  Easier than writing a whole nother post.  People worry when I don't blog for days.  Obsessing over disaster movies is better than nothing.  Better watch what you say, I might blog it too.  I'm in a devil-may-care, fatalistic mood.  My judgement may be marred.  You better say you love me too, it makes for a better story.  Anything for my readers.  Then I will sigh, hold my arm to my head dramatically to my forehead and say, "Too late, I'm gonna jump!."  Jump where I don't know yet.  That is all.  I'm tired now.

Sincerely,

in case we die - love you. 

 

Laurie

 

PS.  Do you think I'm watching too much TV? 

Hell froze over - Updated

This came in my email tonite:

From: "Dell Inc." <[email protected]>
To: SFM@sheowesmealifetimeofblowjobs (not his real email address)
Subject: Dell Order Has Been Confirmed for Dell Purchase ID: 2000228659528
Date: Fri, 23 May 2008 05:31:44 +0000

!!!

It's a confirmation for a purchase SanFranMan made: 

And it's being shipped to me!!!

When I called to thank him, he was just as giddy as I was - so happy was he to be able to buy this for me. I wish he were here right now.  He is so good to me - it made me cry.  I struggle alot when he spends money on me, and sometimes we fight about it.  But it's important to him to pay for our trips, and he got me my first digital camera, which got me hooked on photography.  And now this.  He doesn't read my blog very often, so to thank him here is all for naught, but Thank You So MUCH, SanFranMan!  I love you!  You know  ... in that special way that we have... :-)))))

To be like everyone else at Blogher 2008 - $1000

To be able to have the Internet at the hotel in Reno so we can settle arguements ... $5,000

To be able to blog in bed on the bad days ... $10,000

To have someone like SanFranMan in my life ... Priceless

*

 

Talledega

Oh yes, I had a good time.  I should have mentioned that no matter how angry I might be with SFM ... he'll say something so outrageous and it's usually pretty raunchy ... I cannot help laughing my fool head off.  And that gets us talking like humans again.  I tried to make this little spat last longer than usual tho - when normally I'd just go with his flow. 

... hmmm.  "Go with his flow" ... boy if that's not a perfect segway for a PMS or Aunt Flo comment.  Unfortunately, I can't come up with a thing. 

But I have a good excuse ... the Nascar race is on.  Talledega is my number 2 favorite track. 

Lordy.  Lap 18 or so?  Major crash avoided - two drivers could have caused the "Big One", as Talledega is famous for.  But they managed to save it, and it was amazing to watch.  '

I gotta post this - Jeff is 2nd right now, and he needs my full attention.

*

I'm back. In more ways than one...

Woo hoo!  I'm back.  Back from Reno, and back from TypePad No Man's Land.  They reactivated the blog, kindly resetting my account to come due the first week of May.  Yeaaa TypePad! 

Naturally, while I was locked out of the blog, I had dozens of blog posts in my mind.  Now?  Not so much. 

Had a good time in Reno, as always.  Altho, I was a bit snippy, wondering why some things that I normally ignore ... infuriated me instead.  SFM has a bad habit of asking questions out loud, and completely ignoring me when and if I answer the question.

Him:  How do we get to the car? 

Me:  We go to the front desk, turn left to the elevator and go up to floor 7 to the garage. 

Him:  No, I mean from here.  (We had gone out a door and were out on the street)  (We had been using valet services the previous 2 days) (But we had decided to park it ourselves on the top floor of the parking garage just for kicks and giggles)  (For some reason.)

Me:  I don't know.  I just know how to get there from inside the casino.

Him:  How is that garage even connected to the casino?  Blah blah blah.

Me:  Grrrrr.  I don't know, you're expecting me to know the architectural design of the damn building.  I KNOW HOW TO FIND THE CAR FROM INSIDE THE CASINO. 

He:  (Walks on down the street around the corner)

Me:  (Left fuming with the luggage) 

Me:  (Still fuming with the luggage)

Me:  (Consider leaving his luggage and taking mine to the front desk, turn left and taking the elevator to the 7th floor of the parking garage)

Me:  (Seriously consider it)

Me:  (Decide I shouldn't stoop to such childish behavior)

He:  (Pulls up in our red rental car, and gets out all happy and triumphant)

He:  I tol...

Me:  Don't EVEN talk to me right now.  I'm furious and talking would not be a good thing.  For you.)

He:  But I tol ...

Me:  SHUT UP.  (Altho it came out more like F*** Y** )  Oops.

That is the end of that story.  I won't even get into what he's like when we're driving and trying to find out where to go when we want to go somewhere.  We both really enjoy just driving around and getting our bearings and seeing what we can see.  But if there's a specific goal in mind?  It's best I just keep my mouth shut, even tho I have the better sense of direction. 

Oh, yes I do.  SHUT UP. 

When I got home, it was discovered that I had been under the influence of PMS. 

*

I hereby commit to personnally lighten the load on my plane

I'm leaving for Reno this Sunday morning for a sexfest love-fest with SanFranMan.  We'll eat, sleep late, gamble .25 cents here and there, and give each other massages with the hot oil I will provide, while listening to ... Merle Haggard. 

Yep.  That's what I said.  Good ole Merle.  He likes Merle Haggard, and ever obliging sweetie-pie that I am - I mixed him a CD with some of Merle's finest country tunes.  Lordy.  Romantic - NOT. 

I am DETERMINED to gain a handle on my over-packing tendencies.  It's only for 3 days.  Well, five days if you count the travel days.  Wait.  Four days.  At home I wear jeans for 2 days at a time before I send them to the laundry.  What makes me think I need a morning pair and a daytime pair of jeans?  And let's not forget the evening pair of dress pants in case we decide to leave our room for dinner.  Here's where it gets ridiculous.  Not only will I pack dress pants but I pack a pair of dress pants for each day ... even tho I may not have worn the dress pants I packed for the day before.  Does that make sense?  Four days = 4 jeans, and 4 dress pants.   

???

The point is ... even tho I provide myself with 3 separate outfits for each day away ... I NEVER wear said outfits!  I put on a pair of pants, and lo and behold - the same outfit is worn all day long - even dinner.  I might change into a clean shirt for dinner, but that's rare. 

So this is what I'm saying.  From henceforth now, I pledge to pack one pair of pants for each day, and ONE pair of dress pants. 

In the past pack-list:  3 daytime pants, 3 dress pants, 6 or 9 or 12 shirts.  Various shoes to match.  2-3 skirts or dresses, 3 pairs of shorts.  Various underpinnings.  3 sexy nighties, 3 comfortable nightgowns, 2-3 pairs of lounge pajamas.  Oh, and a sweatshirt for each day too. 

In the future pack-list:  3 daytime pants, 1 dress pants, 6 shirts, 1 dress or skirt.  3 pairs of shoes.  Sandals, water shoes, and flip-flops. 

The color theme is denim, black and white.  So much easier when everything goes with everything else. 

Scuse the sloppy photo-shopping.  I took out the clashing background in a hurry.   

Actually, I should switch out a pair of jeans for a pair of white pants, and add a couple of white t-shirts.  SFM bought me the reversible jacket - isn't it cute?  LOVE it. 

I'm done packing! 

I guess the only color will be at nighttime ...   

*

Oh, the reason why I have to pack so light is because I have to fit in room for the bag I left at SFM's place the last time I was there, because the airline wouldn't let me take 2 carry-ons that day.  So SFM took it home with me, and I'm hoping that's where my lime-green bra is. 

And a CD player.  We want to listen to Merle Haggard  music in our room.  Now how am I going to pack that???

I will try to post while gone, but no guarentee - the wireless is somewhat iffy in some rooms.  But when I come back on Wednesday, there will be some big changes in the blog - beginning the following Monday. 

That is all.

*

Decisions were made

Someone said "It's time to shit or get off the pot".  Someone decided to shit. 

So we got married. 

*****

Cannot sleep because of pain, and I am thinking too hard.  It's 3:34 am. 

*****

Gosling is doing her visa interview today?  I think.  So she can move to the states and go to college.  She's from India. 

*****

One deer caused 5 cars to crash on a local freeway yesterday.  The first car hit the deer.  The second car hit the first car.  They both pulled over, one to the right, and one to the middle of the road.  A third car hit the  deer laying in the middle of the road.  The fourth car, trying to avoid the third car, turned to the right and hit the first car on the right side of the road.  Then a fifh car, in trying to avoid both the third and fourth car, turned to the left, and hit the second car parked in the meridian.  A man was hit by his own car, cause he was standing in front of it when it got hit from behind.   He's in critical condition.  The deer is dead.

*****

I might be going to Connecticut with SanFranMan to see his kids for Christmas, instead of baby-sitting Duke in Spokane. 

*****

I think it's time to hit the pot.  The weed.  The smoke.  The medicinal marijuana. 

*****

Muttin has a lump.  Do dogs get breast cancer?

*

Just Call Me Illegal in Idaho

.

This is Happy here, talking from San Francisco

My last nite in San Franciso.  Hate that, don't you?  Of course you do - you want me to be happy. 

I'm pretty sure that when I move here, I'll have to stop driving.  Which is okay, since there's public transportation on every corner.

Yesterday, we went to the beach and Golden Gate Park.  Looked and looked for a coffee place "just around the corner", passing many, many corners until we finally gave up and found a St*rbucks.  Love those Peppermint Mocha's - double shot please. 

The trip out here was fantastic.  I do fly free because my son is employed by the airline, but it is "stand-by".  I got on the plane in Idaho Falls to Boise with no problem.  My son thought the problem would be getting out of Boise to Seattle.  But I got off the plane in Boise and walked straight to the plane for Seattle, which was already loading.  Stand-by's are supposed to wait quietly, hoping to be called when all the paid passengers are loaded.  I started to find a seat, thinking I'd have to wait for the next flight, but the lady called my name - I was the only stand-by, AND there was ONE SEAT LEFT!  I said "You're kidding!", and would have jumped up and down, had I been able to, but that is one of the things MS won't let me do - oddly.  So I flew from Boise to Seattle, got off the plane in Seattle, and headed for the plane leaving for San Francisco - got right on.  I didn't sit at any airport except the first one - awesome.  Which probably means it'll take 4 days to get home.  The dogs are paid up at the kennel till Tuesday, before noon.  I leave tomorrow at 1pm - wish me luck.

I do things here that I don't do anywhere else. 

I'll leave you with that.  Ha.

*

Just Call Me Satisfied

,

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.

*

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.

*

Just Call Me Depressed as Hell

.

Wait.

*

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

. 

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. 

*

Just Call Me Overwhelmed with Responsibilities

.

He's showing his mushy side...

I got home from Reno last nite, and there was a package for me. 

Ben sent me a Gordon Bobble Head!!!

And he's the one who complains the most about my pictures of my secret lover.  In fact ... I think his exact words when I told everyone about the demise of my bobble head Gordon were ... "Thank God".  Or was it "Thank Dog"?

Thank you, Ben.  To show my gratitude, I think I'll start posting a Gordon Bobble Head pic EVERY day!!!

Back from Reno

You know how when you're nervous about meeting someone, so you worry and worry about it, and then you're a stupid ninny when you actually do meet them, a blithering idiot, and all the expectations ruin it? 

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That didn't happen. 

The kids were fun, and they liked me.  Or maybe it was the dogs they liked.  Whatever. The dogs liked them too. 

We got a room with a jacuzzi in it.  For all the times I've met up with SFM in Reno, he never got US a room with a jacuzzi.  I was under the impression that jacuzzi's were for romantic, candle-lit, bubble baths together.  No.  They are small swimming pools for children!  I stand corrected.

They both loved their quilts.  Which I forgot to take a pictue of - dang it.  I'll have to have SFM take pics before the kids take them home.

Traveling is getting harder to recover from.  All I've done since I came home Saturday morning, is lay in bed or on the couch.  I'm exhausted.  But a good exhausted. 

*

Just Call Me Content

.

Walking on thin ice

You  know you're old when you tell him your period is late, and his first words are "Well ... you know ... menopause ... you're there ....right?" 

Asshole.  >:-{

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Asshole.  >:-{

I haven't told you about the kittens much yet.  They've been more than a nuisance than anything, and are in constant trouble.  And meows?  Lord, they are noisy.  I'd forgotten about how kittens are.  Always underfoot. 

Or in your hair. 

.

Their personalities are hilarious together.  They are the epitomy of the popular boy and the geek in high school. 

Hiney is lean and ungainly, long and leggy, sleek and shiny. 

Something of a geek cause he likes to play on the computer.  His favorite thing is the mouse, of all things.  Imagine that.  He and I are always fighting each other for computer time.
.

.

Barf is postcard cute and adorable. 

We've all started to call him "Calendar Kitty", because he's such a poser. 

He demands attention, coming at me with absolute determination and certainly that I will drop everything and pet him.  With both hands, thankyouverymuch.  He's a lover, but he also assumes he's just too wanted for words by everyone and doesn't purr easily - he's just too good for purring with mere humans.  For some reason, tho, he will purr with the dogs, when he's trying to rub up against them and he's a tease.  The dogs all take offense at being mistaken for a mother cat, and snap at him.  Barf jumps back, but lays down just out of reach, as if that's where he really wanted to be instead.  He gets by on his looks alone.  He's all attitude and cocky and self-confidence ... but dumber than a rock.  He falls.  I've never known a cat to fall.  He'll be walking along the edge of something, and just fall over.  Or see something that fascinates him and he'll go towards it and walk right off the table. 

Hiney is the brains of the two, and acts more like I think a cat is supposed to act.  He wants attention only when he wants it, as opposed to Barf, who will come when he's called at a gallop.  Hiney darn well knows his name when he up on a shelf he's not supposed to be, but he chooses to ignore it.  He's the explorer, the troublemaker, the sneak.  His favorite thing is trying to get my typing fingers, my toes, my hair and probably my teeth, should I let them leave my mouth for any purpose other than brushing them.  Hiney has started to jump everywhere, surefooted, whereas Barf is a complete dufus when it comes to coordination.

He leaps before he looks and Hiney looks before he leaps. 

They're fun.  The poor dogs are beleaguered.  They all huddle at my feet, in hopes that I will protect them from the damn kids cats. 

Thursday Love

As we're saying goodbye on the phone -

He:  Say goodnite to the dogs for me. 
Me:  I will.
He:  Oh, and the kitties.
Me:  Okay.
He:  I just love your little family there. 

Go see more Thursday Love here.  Read comments too.  The Flicker picture group is here. 

Pillow Talk

Last nite, he told me he loved me.  Today, I believed him.

Once upon a time, the girl started taking pictures of hearts and heart-shaped items that she found amongst her life. Every day, she would send one to the man she loved.  He rarely said anything about them, but once, when she missed a day, he asked "Where is my heart today?"

Then they stopped loving each other, but she kept taking the pictures over the last couple of years. 

Today, the girl sent him another heart.  It feels so secret, so special, so surprising to be back here with him. 

*
Just Call Me Secretly Thrilled
.

From SFM

It makes my heart go pitter patter ...
*
Just Call Me Very Possibly Twitter-Pated
.

Should have been posted last Thursday

I'm all grumpy.  Hands hurt.  And my hands hurt.  Oh, and my hands hurt. 

Ben called yesterday? and said he has next week off, so wanted me to come visit him in San Diego.  But my son and SanFranMan will be up here visiting me next week.  I think, and I think this is so clever of me ... that Ben should come up here instead.  And then?!  He can help us with the garage sale, and help SFM move heavy furniture around!!!  Isn't that just the BEST idea?  That's 2 men for the time of one!  I'd only have to clean house once.  I've got a quilt made for both SFM's daughter and Ben's, so no extra work getting those done in time, so that's covered - no extra work there.  I so brilliant. 

Actually, SonOne will be here too - all that help!  Hell, they could all just pack me up for San Francisco and call it good.  It would save them ALL a trip later on.  Right?  Of course right.  I don't CARE that I don't have a place to live yet.  I'm sick sick sick of waiting. 

Update

Forgive me, dear Readers, while I am being a slave to SFM's needs, at his disposal for every whim.
.
.
.
.
Sounds fun, doesn't it? 
.
.
.
.
.
Alas, no such fun to be had.  Instead I'm being a slave to his needs for unloading the stuff in the storage unit, selling said stuff in a garage sale, running said stuff that doesn't sell to a thrift store. 

All in 100+ degree heat. 

We both have MS.  It's like the blind leading the blind with us too.  Our brains are fried, and we make a plan after MUCH discussion, and then promptly forget it.  More MUCH discussion, each time more heated as we both feel our brain cells slipping away, and I for one, get more frantic because I believe I'm experiencing the last I'll ever know of my brain - fun times, people, fun times. 

Not to mention picking him up an hour and a half late at the airport (him waiting in the heat), driving 4 different vehicles for various reasons (confusing), losing my purse, and then my keys, and breaking my glasses.   

And more to do today! 

Then we get to finally have fun is the "whatever you wish my dear" realm of being ...

*
Just Call Me Happy
.

It's all about Ben

Hmmph.  I sent an offline message to a friend of mine, (Ben) asking him (Ben) to call me.  That was a week or so ago.  Didn't hear from him (Ben), so I offlined him (Ben) again, saying something like jeez louise did you (Ben) get a girlfriend who won't let you (Ben) call other girls or something?  And this morning he (Ben) replies back, and I quote, "sorry, no, just slipped my mind, i'll try tomorrow, actually today. miss you". 

I slipped his mind?  SLIPPED his mind?  I mean, I admit it, we rarely, rarely talk on the phone, and only occasionally on-line, but I know he's always there, and I'm always here and he reads my blog ... so how I can SLIP his mind, I'll never know. 

Sniff.

And I don't even want to hear that he works nites as the excuse. 

The kittens are becoming a headache to the dogs.  Somehow, this pleases me.  They can't rest/nap or sleep anywhere without a kitten bothering them.  Jeffrey especially feels the most bothered because they have no respect.  Dogs should not be walked on by cats, and I believe that's the 11th commandment.  Duke is pretty much safe, as he's on the floor all the time, and if they bother him, he does a little, tiny growl and they toddle off somewhere else.  He doesn't mind if they walk on him, but he does not like it if they're too close to his face. 

The one thing I dreaded the most about having kittens in the place was losing sleep cause they would be climbing the walls in the middle of the night.  So far, these guys go to bed when I do, and I don't hear from them until I get up in the morning.  I don't know where they sleep, cause I won't let them sleep with me on the bed.  Muttin/Jeff need to keep some of their status as the first animals here!  They whom I love the most of all. 

The person who was supposed to pick up the dresser that's been sitting in the middle of my living room is supposed to come in about an hour, so better pick up the house a little. 

UPDATE:  So Ben just called, and he's been busy, is his excuse for letting me SLIP HIS MIND.  Busy with work, and ... jury duty and ... work.  Might I add that he didn't actually DO any jury duty, all he had to do was call in each morning.  Yea. 

Sniff.

*

Just Call Me Slighted

PS.  Ben's suggestion of naming the kittens Tony and Stewart is actually kind of genious - I'm always calling Tony Stewart a pussy. 

.

The results of lengthy soul searching

SFM wants out of San Francisco, and I want in.  Perfect solution!  I'll move into his room, and he can move into mine.  There.  Easy Peasy. 

So, I got to thinking about the concern that I might hate it.  The crowds, the traffic, the crime, the ... oh, expensiveness, etc.  I set out during the walk this morning to deliberately think about that.  I truly intended on spending some real, soul-searching time on it.  So here's what I came up with. 

I hate it here.  If I hate it there, I'll be in the same place, emotionally. 

I need better medical/pain care. 

And I need better weather that doesn't bounce 20 to 40 degrees from day to nite, and nite to day. 

So I can chose hating Idaho with shitty weather and no medical care.  Or I can chose hating San Francisco with good weather and better medical care. 

My soul-searching took about 3 minutes. 

No matter how much I pretend otherwise, whether I have a couple of good days, or even weeks, or try to convince myself that I can wean myself off of pain meds - I know pain is going to be a part of my life forever.  Unless there's a miracle or a cure, and I don't see that happening in my lifetime.  To be honest, I don't see that happening as long as drug companies are in charge, but that's another post. 

I get fooled into thinking I'm just fine, but reality is that if I go without even one pill of my normal dose, within a half hour, the pain starts to leak back in.  Break-thru pain is what it's called, I learned.  It doesn't make sense to me ... one pill can make a difference?  The pain is such that once it breaks thru, there's no halfway bearing it.  It amps up to the highest level as if you hadn't taken any meds at all, and when I do take the meds, it'll take 2 or 3 or 4 (over) doses to catch up.  I know what it feels like to have the very air hurt my skin.  I know the pain of not being able to breathe because it feels as if I'm being squeezed to death.  Skin and breathing - 2 pretty basic functions that I can't seem to "be stronger" in order to deal with it. 

I am beginning to think when the neurologist inadvertently dx'd the arthritis by saying "There doesn't seem to be any new plaques on your brain or spine and except for the severe arthritis, everything else looks good", that hmm, I really do have arthritis.  I had been thinking since I hadn't been officially diagnosed by a specialist, then I didn't really have it.  Kinda like the same way I won't do a mammogram or any more pap smears.  The payoff of finding out I might have something else just doesn't seem worth it.  But in the last month, sure enough, the arthritis seems pretty "severe".  I personally think the doctor made a mistake, calling it severe, rather than extreme, but hey, he's just a neurologist, not a ... arthritic-ist?  Yes, that's a medical specialty and you know it.  But the weather is really messing with me - it's Spring here, and it's been one of my worse months ever.  The weather is ALL over the place. 

So, the pain and the weather.  I need pain clinics, and I need weather than isn't bi-polar. 

*****

Lately, SFM has taken to asking me several times in the same conversation how I am.  It's frustrating because I think he's not listening.  Not that I ever accuse him of that, EVER.  Well, it just dawned on me why.  I think he's reading the blog more often then he used to, and so when we talk, maybe things don't make sense.  I rarely talk about the pain in real life - maybe just a comment that it's a bad day, or I have to cancel plans because of it.  Sometimes it shows in my voice or in my face, but for the most part, when the phone rings, I put on my game face and chatter up the phony "fine". 

So I guess not only does he not listen, but I lie.

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Just Call me Immediate Soul Searcher

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No clue what to title this so I won't

He:  So can you get away for 48 hours?

Me:  I've got races ...

He:  Races?  Races?  You can't have races, you don't have teeth!

Me:  ???

He thought I said "braces". 

*****

You may be wondering what this is a picture of.  Obviously, it's a tree, but there's more to it. 

Here's a little closer.  Still can't tell?

Duke was behind the tree, pooping.  Wasn't that polite of him?  And he obviously feels better!

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Just Call Me Trainer of Polite Dogs

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Last nite, I attempted to sound halfway intelligent and bring a couple of independent thoughts of my own to the table

Me:  Why aren't you watching the baseball game?

Him:  I don't know, is there one tonite?

Me:  I think so, I looked up the schedule online.

Him:  I can't wait till I can just walk to the stadium and go watch a game.  It's only 20 minutes from here. 

Me:  I know, I drove by it and also the bus went by it.

Me:  But they're gonna lose their stadium.  (Feeling all proud of myself for being up on the news and taking an interest in one of his interests.  Altho I love baseball too, but for different reasons.  There's nothing better than laying down on a lazy afternoon, with the game being on the TV, even tho I usually fall asleep during it, not out of boredom, but because the broadcasters are so soothing, and there's a certain rthym to the game.)

He:  Huh?  What are you talking about?  They don't want to move it.

Me:  Yes they do!  The team wants a new stadium - they want to move it.  To San Jose.  (Oh, I impress myself, I even remembered the city.)

He:  Uh, that's the 49'ers. 

Me:  Ohhhhh.  Yea.  The foootballlll team ... .

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Just Call Me I Tried. 

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My San Francisco Treat

The last time I came back from spending time with SanFranMan, I wanted to write about what it means. 

But I didn't, because, well, I didn't take the time to sit down and do it.  And then when I did, the words seemed so ... high schoolish, or silly.  Which is what high school is - silly.  I had lost the "mood". 

The mood is back, and so I'm going to try to capture it.  Without sounding like a giggly girl in high school.  Cause it's not about that kind of giggly love. 

He and I have a short history, but it doesn't seem short - it feels like we've known each other forever.  Short version  for the new readers.  My best friend is his step-sister.  We met.  Don't remember that meeting.  Years later, we met again, after I'd been diagnosed with MS.  He had been dx'd 20 years earlier.  We talked and talked.  He went home to San Francisco to the wife he was married to.  He came back again to see me and to visit his father.  His father was on the downhill path of life, so he started to come visit his dad more often, and I was a happy ... accident?  Diversion?  Escape?  We argue lightly about it now, I believing that he used me to escape his unhappy marriage, and the fact that his dad was dying.  He seems to believe I should have understood how fucked up his life was at the time, yet he also told his sister that "he couldn't have survived it all without her".  His wife had taken their 2 young children to the East Coast for a vacation with her parents and never came back home during that time. 

I do know that I believed every word he said - our happy plans for a new life together.  I also know that I should have known better - counselor that I am.  Or had been - before the MS boggled my brains with denial, symptoms and fears for the rest of my life.  If I were ever to use MS as an excuse for anything... it would be then.  I was stupidly, blindly, swept completely off my feet in love. 

He came again, the 4th or 5th visit into our relationship.  He seemed distant.  I asked.  He maybe'd us, vague.  Or that it was all in my head.  Slippery.  To see what he could get away with, both sides of the fence, not ready to be truthful, not ready to lose me all the way if he could help it.  But he had unwittedly put the real truth into my hands, printing out something he had written about his busy schedule, forgetting to edit out two telling sentences about the possibilities of new love and not to forget to mail her a card while he was out of town visiting his father.  I read it, put it down, not fully absorbing the two tell-taling sentences placed in the middle of a crazy ass version of the hectic hell of a confusing life/time for him.  It was good writing, and I was trying to absorb that fact first.  The information weighed on me, when I went to re-read it, those sentences were gone - he had traded versions.  But the poor guy... he'd made the mistake of also emailing it to his step-sister (my best friend), so when I put the truth together, she and I read her email, and yes, he had edited a second version for me, having caught his screw-up at some point.  I confronted, he lied, we broke up.  Because I wasn't stupid.  Facts is facts, ma'am. 

But I couldn't stay mad at him, no matter how hard I wanted to.  The thing about getting healthy and grown-up - is that you have to take responsibility for your own part in it.  For me... I had chosen to get involved with a married man, and had CHOSEN to believe the things he said and promised... me, as a counselor for other people, had chosen to believe in someone who was in major crisis mode.  I knew better.  In that way, it was a fairly easy break-up for me, because I couldn't blame him... entirely. 

He is not a bad man.  We all lie in our own little and big ways.  For whatever reasons.  We're all learning and growing up at any given moment.  We all make stupid mistakes. 

The other part about not being able to stay mad at him is that he always makes me laugh.  Laughing is good, and he is good.  We continued to meet, to visit each other, to ... bond.  Friends with Benefits is the term, but the benefits are so much more than just sex.  (And I don't mean the sex is "just"... it is the BEST, so the benefits are above and beyond, dammit anyways).  He doesn't read the blog, so I can say that out loud. 

Friends.  Why do friends such as we are... work better than what we were before?  Part of it is time has passed.  He's not in such a crisis mode.  His dad has been dead for 2 years (April 2nd).  His children have been on the East Coast for 2 years.  They have settled into a routine of daily phone calls, and flying back and forth.  He works his ass off, making good money, and then he spends it on those he cares about.  His kids.  Me.  He insists on paying for everything, and bought me a Spring jacket - one I wouldn't have bought for myself because it was too expensive.  I show that I care by making him a quilt and another quilt for his daughter and his son.  By baking cookies that he didn't eat cause he didn't realize I had made them myself.  By giving him the back rubs and foot rubs that make him feel... dare I say it... loved. 

I do love him.  But this kind of love doesn't get upset if he doesn't call or even if he doesn't return a call.  I know that if I say "Call me back, it's important", he will.   This kind of love doesn't need constant attention.  We can talk once or twice a night for weeks, then there won't be a word between us for days, or weeks.  There are months that go by without seeing each other, and rare emails between us.  And then all of a sudden, one of us will email something lonely, or horny, or funny, and we know it's time to get together again.  So we do.  We are so easy together.  He corrects my quirky way with words, and makes fun of them.  I have a better sense of direction than he does, but I never say "I told you so" after spending hours looking for a cemetery or store.  I do things that I'd never think of doing on my own, like go to a museum.  I had never thought of myself as being interested in museums or fancy restaurants or strange foods.  Now I am, because he opens my eyes to new experiences that I tend to dismiss out of hand.  We like to drive, and like cemeteries.  So many things are easy with us. 

He always, always, always makes me laugh.  He makes me jealous - of what, I'm not sure.  He makes me feel cared for.  He understands the peeing my pants thing, like it's no big deal.  Ben and ReikiMan take care of me, and make me feel cared for, but the pee thing?  It's beyond their reach thru no fault of their own.  It's an effort for them to understand, to accept, an effort well hidden most of the time, but an effort nonetheless.  SanFranMan not only understands and accepts, but he also relates, and that is no small thing in the world of MS.  He knows what a big deal it is that I'm so much healthier than I used to be, knowing the effort it took to get beyond the mind-set of "I have MS' and all it's negative connotations.  It feels like he's proud of me. 

I think... best of all is the fact that I respect him because of the kind of father he is.  He's fucked up in some ways, no doubt.  But I've never known a better father, and I have some experience in that area, having worked with many divorced families.  He loves his kids, and he talks about them with love in his voice, concern and wonderment in his tone.  It is fascinating to me - to watch a father actually be a father, and to see him spend most of his moments geared to being a good father... this man who became a father in the space of a few hours, not having the normal 9 month pregnancy preparation - she didn't know she was pregnant until she went into the hospital with a stomach ache.  My favorite times with him are when he's talking about his kids, and I just sit and listen.  I suppose a part of me wonders what it would have been like to have a father who was as deeply proud and as in love with being a father as SFM is. 

I like being around him.  Near him.  There's always something to think about.  Or just the opposite, we can do nothing together and still be connected with compatibility.  When he leaves me to catch his plane, we kiss, I grin, and make him kiss me some more, cause of my new teeth - I need the practice.  He misses me almost immediately, the comfort of having someone there to talk to, to bounce ideas and memories of the past off of.  I am immediately lonely, wanting him to be sitting near me, reading a book, or watching the people as I wait for the train for 5 hours.  I think he knows I love him no matter what, and that I always will - there is no need to impress or pretend or mask.  I hope he knows I accept him the way he is, even tho he's not perfect and has some foibles.  I worry about him because of those foibles, but that's all I can do about it - I can't change him into a version that meets MY approval.  I LOVE the fact that he can see his problems, deny them all to high heaven, and yet still get himself signed up for some individual counseling all on his own, without anyone nagging at him.  I love that I can see him changing and growing (up) even more, and that it's not because I'm doing all the work, which is what so often happens in relationships - only one person does the work.  I'm glad that I'm smart enough not to do that anymore. 

We are not in "a relationship" per se.  But this is one of the best relationships of my life, and I love spending time with my San Francisco Treat.  Whatever it is that we are, it's really nice and I like it the way it is.  I think he does too.  His voice message to me before he even gets on his plane, that I don't hear until I get home almost 20 hours later... is thanks for being there, for being his friend, for the good time, I looked good, great even, my face a bit more "defined", it must be cause of the "shims" I had put in.  I laughed out loud again, by myself - he means my new teeth, the ones he didn't want to see laying around, even tho I wanted to chase him around the hotel room with them in my hand, chomping after him.  He says we'll work on getting me moved to San Francisco, even tho he wants to leave there, to get me settled before he leaves, I think he finally believes I want to move.  He says he misses me already, a little.  I laugh again.

I miss him alot, and I've said it before - he's so full of life, it's like he takes the air with him when he's leaves.  Do I sound like a giggly high school girl giddy in love?  I hope not... because I just love him, is all. 

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Romantic Liason? Yea, right

I have not heard from SanFranMan since Monday? nite, even after emailing a couple a questions that I promptly forgot that I needed an answer to, because it didn't occur to me that I'd been ignored for a couple of days.  He and I run hot and cold, so it wasn't unusual to suddenly stop hearing from him.  However, since my portion of the journey begins today, and we won't have telephone or email contact until we meet at the hotel on Sunday, I began to have thoughts of different scenarios.

1.  I make a 3 hour drive to Salt Lake to catch a train in the middle of the nite, to the train station in the middle of a downtown major city, (skuzzy and shady), park my car in an unsupervised parking lot where it will possibly get mugged, ride for 9 hours, get to Reno about 6 hours before I'm allowed to check in, have to take a cab (which I've never done before on my own), and get to our room only to find a masseuse and 3 gigolos to take care of me.  In a note sent with a dozen yellow roses, which is sitting next to the basket of fruit, he has sent his regrets as he has met a masseuse of his own, and the wedding is on Tuesday, so naturally he couldn't meet up with me.

Or,

2.  I make the same long journey mentioned above, but this time the cabby doesn't speak English, meet SFM in our room and he kills me in a crime against passion, for reasons not to be known until after the CSI (his favorite show) people come with their cameras, film the scene, edit the film, solve the case and it airs on TV next season. 

Or,

3.  The truth.  We meet as planned, have fun, and that is all I can say about that. 

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Trying not to incur the wrath of Shad

Me and the computer have been fighting for days now.  Ever since I discovered Firefox. 

I'd log on, get mad at something it did or didn't do, and stop speaking to it.  Then I'd forget I wasn't speaking to it, come back to it, and again, it didn't do what I wanted it to do, so I'd stop speaking to it again.  Do this 3-4 times every few hours, and one tends to overload on frustration. 

Oh yes.  Don't ever try to use a different mouse with 5 different buttons and the same time you're learning a new browser.  A mouse that you can't feel.  With the trackball in a different spot.  When it's a right handed mouse, and you have to use your left hand cause you can't FEEL anything with your right.  Try configuring the buttons in different ways so that your numb fingers don't click when they shouldn't cause they can't fucking feel where they are clicking. 

I've changed my mind, I'm not addicted to the computer.  I'm addicted to ... confusion and frustration.  Yea, that's it.

Duke and I got in a big fight tonite.  I don't even want to talk about it. 

Muttin and I got in a little fight.  I don't want to talk about it.  And yes, the fights do evidently depend on the size of the dog. 

I'm mad at my magic clock.  In the past, it has reset itself  for Daylight Savings Time, but it didn't do it this time.  Now... I know there was a big concern of near Y2K porportions, that DST was going to screw up the world because it was happening a couple of weeks sooner than usual.  So the computers that control the world were going to be all messed up.  However, my atomic clock isn't a computer.  So I don't  get it. 

SanFranMan and I are in a secret fight.  It's secret cause he doesn't know about it.  Both he and I are in High Apathetic Mode the last couple of weeks. 

He:  (snarl snarl snarl about something meaningless, I'm sure)

Me:  Don't bitch at me buddy.

He:  (snarl snarl snarl at what I just said)

Me:  I've been bitchy too lately.

He:  I'm bitchy too.  If I could, I'd have a period and be bitchy er with PMS.

Me:  I can outbitch you any day. 

He:  No you can't.  I'll just stop. 

Me:  (thinking how he just disappears all of a sudden for unknown reasons, only to find out he was mad at something I said or did)  (So I kept silent)  (But only for a nano-second) 

Me:  Yea, you'll just disappear and stop calling me. 

He:  (bitch bitch bitch moan moan moan about something meaningless I'm sure)

Me:  Bring.  It.  On.   

And then we made further plans for our trip to Reno on the 25th of March. 

Oh, I forgot to say why we're secretly fighting.  I had written an email to him this morning about the High Apathetic Mode, noting that I thought he was in it too, blah blah blah.  It was just a stupid email, not good, not bad, just fulfilling the desire to get it off my chest.  And my plan to make it better. 

He wrote back "This was a nice and intelligent email you just wrote". 

Intelligent? 

What the HELL does he mean by that, hmmm?

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The ONLY heart in Reno

You know I had to play this machine in Reno.  I didn't win anything.  Stupid machine. 

Considering both our addictive and/or compulsive natures, it's surprising that neither of us like to gamble much.  We sat down at a 21 table?  Should have had the Alan Funt cameras there.  I didn't know how to play, and he didn't know the body language required.  He kept putting both hands on the cards, and the dealer would swat one of them down, saying "Only one hand, sir".  At first, I looked behind us for a Sir, but realized he was talking to SanFranMan.  Tapping the table twice with your cards means "Hit me again", meaning give me another card.  The goal is to get as close to the number 21 as you can, and beat the dealer.  I wasn't quite sure what face cards were worth, and if the ace was a 1 or a 10, so I kept leaning over to ask SFM.  Our lip counting alone as I added the numbers in my hand were enough to tip off the dealer, I'm sure.  Or I'd whisper "How much is the ace worth again?".  Luckily we were the only ones at the table, so we embarrassed ourselves privately.  I came away with 4 chips and tossed them in one of the drawers in our room.  When we checked out, we remembered to cash them in... SFM had thought they were just worth a dollar, maybe two.  Five dollars each! 

High rollers, we. 

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My Best Qualities?

While in Reno, we bought me a new necklace.  As he picked up each circle, he read out loud:

Remember...

Spirit...

Belligerence... (rather than smile)

Health...

Menopause... (rather than patience)

Kindness...

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My vagina may have MS too

Warning:  Somewhat X-rated.  Especially X-rated if your mother is reading. 

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We're stopping at a drugstore for his cigarettes.  I'm staying in the car cause I'll have no part of buying cigarettes for anyone.  I have standards that way.

She:  Pick me up some K-Y Jelly while you're in there. 

He gives me a horrified look.

He:  I am not buying that!

She:  (Color me amused, is that a threat to a man's manhood, I wonder?)

He:  You don't need it, you were wet.

She:  Not wet enough.

He:  You were fine.

She:  I was not, it almost hurt.  And it'd be easier for you to get in if I were wetter, wouldn't it?

He:  I'll cum next time, and it'll be wet enough. 

She:  FINE!  Whatever!

He:  FINE! 

He opens the car door and gets out.

She:  I'm at that age you know. 

It occurs to me...he says I'm wet enough, so maybe it's finally happened... my vagina has MS and I can't tell what the hell is going on down there.  Great.  My worse nightmare has come to pass. 

He comes back, and the conversation continues. 

She:  So did you hear me say that I'm at that age where K-Y Jelly may be necessary and it's normal?  (Cause god forbid we threaten men their menhood!)

He:  ?

She:  Menopause. 

He:  Hmm.

She:  Altho... I think my period has been trying to come, but it's having the decency to hold off till after our rendezvous. 

He:  Nice. 

She:  Yup.

He:  Well, you did get hot last nite....

He's talking about how after some adult playtime in the adult playpen, I suddenly needed all the covers off, traded my flannel nightgown for a Cotton t-shirt, turned down the heat... I thought it was normal MS heat issues, but maybe it was a hot-flash?  He can't stand my heat issues, always concerned that I'm going to be cold, cause he needs 3 quilts to my one sheet, and he'll sneak more covers on top of me after I fall asleep.  This drives me crazy, but his concern is real, so I try to keep quiet and kick off the covers after he's gone to sleep.  Hot flashes will be more traumatic for him than me, at this rate. 

We're both quiet for a couple of minutes.

She:  Is it normal for people to have conversations like we just had? 

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Disclaimer:  The names have been changed to "He" and "She" to protect the privacy of said individuals.  It's such a clever disguise, it's no use trying to figure out who these 2 individuals are. 

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I'm all a train wreck today

I made a phone call.  Ring ring ring.

Me:  Are you alone?

She:  Yessss.   Why?

Me:  Cause I don't want anyone to hear me crying. 

She:  Okay.......  What's wrong?

Me:  I don't know.  Wahhhhhhh.

She:  (Something.  I don't remember)

Me:  I think I love SanFranMan.  Wahhhhh.

She:  Yea, well....

Me:  I mean, I knew I love loved him, but I thought I didn't love him anymore. 

She:  You mean "in love"....

Me:  Yeaaaaa  Wahhhhhhh

Me:  I don't want to be IN love with him!  I liked things the way they wererrrrrrr, wahhhhhh

Me:  And I don't want to be in Idaho, but now I wonder if San Francisco is the right place after all, wahhhhhhh

She:  (Something.  I don't remember)

Me:  And I'm afraid if I don't go now, I'll never go anywhere, wahhhhhh

She:  I don't know about the SFM stuff, but I know you have to get out of Idaho. 

Me:  And we had SUCH a good time in Reno, but the more 'friends' we are, the more honest he is, he's not trying to impress, so he's more real, but he drinks, and drunk dials and drunk types, and and and he's hilarious, and he told me so many things, wahhhhh, and he's the funniest man, and wahhhhhhhh

Me:  I can't tell you how much I hated coming home.  Hate hate hate.  Hate.  Hate the cold, hate the snow.  Hate living in an old folks home, hate hate hate the cold. 

Me:  And my dogs stink like a French whorehouse, and need a bath, wahhhhhh

She:  (Something.  I don't remember)

Me:  And I had my first full-body massage, wahhhhh, and that was kind of freaky. 

She:  Oh.  How'd that go? 

Me:  It was .... okay.  The hard part was having my hands touched, of all things. 

She:  (Something about being touched during massages)  Ewwey stuff. 

Me:  I don't WANT to be IN love with him, wahhhhhh

She:  Mumble mumble, murmer murmer sympathetic noises.

Me:  And I emailed him this morning to thank him for the great time, and told him that all I could do was cry now in Idaho, wahhhhhh

Me:  And he emailed back, and said it was probably cause I was missing the living large, the living big, the high life we had in Reno, and I was all.... wahhhhhh and didn't email anymore, and pretended it's cause it's freezing cold, and my son just left, and left his damn dog with me, and yea, it's cause I'm missing the bell-hops, and room service and massages and movies and sleeping in late, and not having to walk dogs in the middle of the Ice Age, wahhhhhh

She:  Blah blah blah

Me:  Blah blah blah

Then we get off the phone and I crawled back into my hole. 

Then he called me tonite, and I'm all "fine" and "how are you?" and he's all he's okay, and playing sad music and did I get the Eva Cassidy CD he sent me, and I was all I need to go walk the dogs, and he was all okay, and was I alright now, blah blah blah.  And we hang up. 

I'm all stand-offish because I'll be damned if I love him, I'll have none of it!  Wahhhhhhhhhhhh

And then I discovered I'm all "T-minus 9 months and holding".  Which would explain why the slinky nities weren't quite as slinky as I would have liked.  Hmmph. 

Whew.  So never mind on all that love shit. 

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Disclaimer - Portions of this post have been imagined or altered to protect the poster, postee, the reader, the readee, and the various personalities involved.  Thank you very much.

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Home again, home again

Back from Reno - much fun, more later, Duke happy to see me, will get my dogs back in the am.  Tired. 

Much fun tho! 

What Ben said

There are a few points that should be clarified.  First of all, the Latin love, henceforth known as "Juan Pablo" was not a whale trainer, but a bait handler. A bait handler hmmm?  I wonder if I can get him a job at Bear World right up the road from us.  Thanks for the tip!  Oh, and me and Pablo are doing just fine, since you asked. 

I actually won 2 of the 3 games of Slug Bug.  There may be some animosity on someone's part there.  Whatever. 

Snap, Crackle and Pop are excellent driving companions, and they were with us most of the time. How kind of you not to mention just how many Rice Krispie Treats I ate...

My driving skills are top notch.  With the few minor exceptions that Shadow did not mention.  Like running a red light, taking the wrong freeway, and the late night accidental off-ramp into hard core gangland L.A.  Shit, I couldn't even get to the airport in my own city without taking the wrong exit. Oh believe me, I was planning on mentioning the driving complete with pictures.

Oh, and TC, who won the Super Bowl last year?  Yes, the Pittsburgh Steeler.  So there.

In all seriousness, it was such a fine time that we spent together.  I felt under no pressure to impress her, nor go out of my way, in actuality, I am sure there was alot more I could have done, but I think it all turned out good. 

If you have ever spend any significant time traveling with someone, then you know how things can deteriorate after awhile.  Even after I took us 40 miles too far east, it didn't really seem to affect the trip.  This is special, I was getting a little frustrated with myself, but for some reason, things were OK, and I didn't stress.  I attribute that to Shadow, always keeping the conversation going, about things I haven't thought about in years, deep discussion on things that were never said or not completely gotten out of the way. (oh my!  This reminds me of the time when we drove to San Diego from Idaho.  On the way back, worried that you would fall asleep while driving in the middle of the nite, and I was too tired to drive too, I made you stop the car, got out, went to your door, and told you to take off your pants and underwear.  You, thinking OH BOY! did so in a hurry, thinking you were gonna get lucky.  I perhaps allowed you to think so, until said clothes were in my hands, and then I got back in the car, and told you to drive on, buster.  I figured driving with no pants on would keep you alert...)   (oh, and how we laughed.  We made it home safely, without being stopped by any cops either, cause that might have been kind of hard to explain - why your pants were in the back seat)   (Remember that?)  (Yes, you're right... I AM sparkling and stimulating entertainment, aren't I?)

Sometimes, we all get into such a groove in our lives that we don't even realize it, but we keep on going and going, just waiting for something to snap.  Well, it seems like I've been that way for some time.  I was so looking forward to Shadow coming to visit, it was so fresh and different.  I forgot all about work and school and just enjoyed the moment.  There was laughing, yelling, barking at me to slow down on the dangerous curves, there were sea lions, whales, chef's throwing shrimp tails in their hats, hearts of rice, water rides and roller coasters, the beach, a lighthouse and the urban conflagration which is know as San Francisco - a city I do not like at all. 

Anyway, all that wrapped into one big ball make the whole time extraordinary.  I can't think of anything I've done in the last few years that made me feel so relaxed. 

So while you think that I was just helping you out, which was my pleasure of course, I was actually helping myself as well. 

I don't think about how much $, or what the cost is of a time like that, just what it means to you and me.  It's about being friends, even though it was years between seeing you in person, it felt like just yesterday.  I think that's how friendship should be. 

One final note; it is completely unimaginable how much crap you actually got packed into that little bag.  People do not realize the scope of the size of the small bag, and all the stuff you were able to pack in there.  Truly an amazing feat, really. 

Anyways, be good. 

Ben

Just a brief word about his driving which would explain my barking.

Very curvy roads

+ big fall off the edge of the road cliffs

+ many many many miles all down the coast

+ going too fast to even see the speed limit sign clearly

+ going too fast + running red lights + driving in the L.A GangLand

= poor Ben in heaven before his time. 

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It's not about the song with rats in it

Two confessions. 

I finally unpacked this morning and found my flying information in my suitcase, instead of Ben's bookcase.

And I have those things that go in your ears to listen to music... I've forgotten what they're called.  But I borrowed them and they were in my purse for some reason, and now I feel bad for stealing them away from Ben. 

So here's the thing.  Someone not so eloquently brought this to my attention last nite, unknowingly reminding myself that I've been thinking about writing this, but have not due to depression and illness... now I'll write it.

As some of you know, Ben and I used to be an 'item'.  He was around when I was first getting diagnosed, and it wasn't a pretty time.  He lived in Twin Falls, and would drive the 3 hour drive to see me every weekend.  One weekend, he made the drive twice cause we got in a fight, and he came back to finish it, or make up, I don't remember.  I really don't remember alot of that time, and he seems to remember several rotten times, but I do remember that he seemed to really, really ... accept me?  In a way, that was a problem, because I was such a bitch at the time, I had lost some respect for him for accepting my crap, when I knew I was being horrible.  He really, really loved me and said so.   Often, verbally, and in the most amazing cards he'd write in.  Alot.  He was the safe one to take out my MS frustrations on, evidently.  I never doubted his feelings for me and he didn't play games with it like some did before him.  That was a novelty at the time.  There's been no one since then, like that.  I mean, there's been new love/relationships, but they've had their shady parts when it came to making sure I KNEW without a doubt that I was loved, and that there would be no games being played with it. 

The downfall for me was when he made a decision FOR me regarding moving to California with him or not.  I said I would, and he said he wouldn't take me away from all that I knew here in Idaho.  My support system.  This was before some moved away and before a couple of my closest friends screwed me out of the house, left me with humongous power bill, etc., and I actually had more than one friend.  There was Lurt and Bisa, Bathy, Biffie, Biana,  TC, Bindy and neighbors.  (Yes, I disquised names.  I really don't have a friend named Lurt)  My son, and SweetieGirl.  But I had one condition... if I were to move with him, he had to be able to give me my Avonex shot... after all, if I WAS going to leave my support system, he needed to prove to me he could be my support system.  Too heavy a load for one person, I now know, btw.  He has a monster needle phobia and simply couldn't.  I saw it as "wouldn't" at the time, so my heart was cold, cause did I mention I was a bitch? 

Suddenly he left for California on the same weekend I had my very best friend from Spokane coming in, whom I hadn't seen in years.  He had a little daughter in California whom he needed to be around.  Lucky he did, because her mother died a couple of months later.  But due to misunderstandings, we didn't see each other that weekend or really get to say good-bye or discuss what his moving away meant for our relationship.  And then we petered out.  Poof.

We've kept in touch tho.  When I needed money for tires one year, he gave it to me.  When I needed money for the plane ticket, he gave it to me.  When I was down there, he must have spent another million dollars on me, because I sure didn't spend much while I was down there.  I don't have much to spend in the first place, and he seemed to make sure it was his mission that I didn't.  (I did buy my mother, sister, niece, and aide a little somethings for taking care of my dogs tho.  And my own California ID.  Cause if I'd let Ben buy my California ID, that would have meant I'd belong to him, and we can't have that).

We can't have that because he drives me crazy.  It's true.  And I'm sure I drive him crazy, but I'm more adorable than he is, so it's more tolerable on his part.  Right?  Of course right.  But because of the way we "split" up, it's always felt like we've had unfinished business.  And I'm a big one for finishing business.   On this trip, we came to the mutual conclusion that we'd kill each other if we ever spent more than 7 days together.  We came to this at about day 4.  We had so much fun, tho, and were so comfortable and easy with each other.  And I'm sure it's just cause of the way we are, but also for me, it was because I knew the sexual factor had been taken out of it. 

Because I'm famous for not hating my ex's, some may presume that we would ... as the kids say these days... "hook up".  But I had let Ben know that I wasn't going to sleep with him if that's what he was thinking.  I thought he might still have "love" feelings for me (cause I'm that memorable, ahem) and since I knew I didn't LOVE love him, it wouldn't be a good idea.  I also have another, private reason why I wouldn't, but hey, that's private.  I do have some boundaries, Internet.  Or should I say... secrets?)  I felt the need to tell Ben no hanky panky between us, because in my mind, there's always a price to pay for the company of a man.  Normally, the man spending money on me is the one I'm in a relationship with, so it hasn't been much of a problem.  Let me make it clear - it's my perception that I "owe" a man somehow, if he spends money on me - Ben did not/does not give me that impression.  It's just my own garbage, born out of... many reasons, but that's a whole nother post.   

So my point is?  What a friend I have in Ben.  It's really touching to me, and really important to me to have had such fun with a man, and to have had so much money spent on me... knowing that sex didn't factor into it.  Even tho I felt guilty as hell for how much money he spent, it didn't make me feel guilty enough to sleep with him.  If I HAD slept with him?  It would have been purely because I WANTED to, not because I felt like I owed him something.  It's an important lesson, ladies.  Thank you, Sir Ben. 

When I asked why he spent all the money on me, his response was "Because I could". 

Last nite when he called to rub it in about the Rice Krispie Treats, we both admitted to missing each other just a tad, and it was depressing to be alone, and that I was expensive, and he's not sure he got over a 90% on his final, which he didn't study for because I was there, and that maybe 6 days would have been just about right. 

Now that all that mush mush is out of the way, I must continue on my diarreatic honesty, and admit that I must not have felt all THAT guilty because I ASKED him to buy me this:

A soft fleece blanket, which is the only item of fabric that did not get vomited or shitted on this last weekend.  Aren't I charming?   Comfort blankie.  Yum. 

And then there's this:

Ben loved this bag.  It's his teams colors.  Whoever that team is, I don't remember.  I was too busy drooling over the bag and thinking of the possibilities.  But you'll notice, despite his love, it's sitting on MY couch. 

I begged, and begged for him to give me this bag.  Everyone who knows me, knows I am a Bag Lady.  I love bags.  Not fancy designer bags, but just bags.  My son called me a bag lady and it stuck.  But look it!  The top compartment held my pills, fingernail polish, sewing kit, matches, etc.  .

This held the lip balms, breathe refreshers, nice and handy, no?.

The third compartment held the serious stuff.  Shampoos, nail files, lotions, tampons, etc.  The stuff you don't really need to use on a airplane..

Then there was the 2 side zippered pockets that held my Palm, and voice recorder, and flat items like mini pads, band-aids, hand wipes, etc.  The front pockets held my ticket stuff, my reading glasses SO HANDY, and a magnifying glass for when I forgot my glasses were up on my head. 

This little bag combined about 4-5 little bags that were stored here and there on the trip down.  Did I mention how security at airports now requires all gels and liquids to be put in a zip lock bag and kept out where they can see it?  Was quite a pain on the first time thru.  But on the way home?  Pure bliss.  ALL items were in this one small bag, and I was able to grab the zip lock, and pull the offending bomb-like items immediately and become all correct and all, and security liked me on the way home. 

For this bag alone, I would have slept with him.  But don't tell him that. 

. 

The one where I took a Latin lover

See the tiny people on the beach to the right?  Here, I'll make us bigger...

Ben stood on the bluff above us and took the picture.  It is me with my new Latin lover, whom I met at Sea World, where he was a trainer for the killer whales.  He took one look at me as I was taking a picture of this...

I don't know what it was about me that caught his attention, because, as you can see there were also many others taking his picture, but love at first sight he did to me.  And me right back at him.  Ahem.  Of course, this kind of left Ben in a snit, because he secretly is also in love with me, so me bringing a Latin lover as a guest in his home didn't go over very well, but I won him over with the promise of allowing him to take me to dinner the next day.  Ever a gentleman, he graciously gave over his bedroom for the latin lover's loving antics, and even served us breakfast in bed the next morning.  Which we really needed to restore our energy cause our life and limbs were damn near limp.  MS not intended.  I mean... I couldn't blame the weakness of my legs on MS.  If you know what I mean. 

LL was so enchanted with me that he quit his job as a killer whale trainer in order to come live with me in Idaho.  I tried to convince him that there are no killer whales in Idaho to train, so his job prospects were very poor, and that there was no hope a killer whale would wander by, since Idaho is land-locked.  He did not listen to me, so the love affair was ON, baby.  Ben kindly took us back home to his apartment via the scenic route from San Francisco to San Diego, and ignored LL's amorous attentions to my body in the back seat of his Toyota Corella.  He did, however, insist on all of us playing the Slug Bug Game, which consists of shouting out "Slug Bug" whenever a Volkswagon Beetle was sighted. 

Slug Bug red!  Score!  Shadow!

Slug Bug beige!  Score!  Shadow! 

Slug Bug beige!  Score!  Ben!  Uh no, Ben, I already called that one.  Can't call it twice.  My rules. 

Just because I had a hard time catching it in the camera doesn't mean it's two different Bugs.   

Slug Bug green!  Score!  Shadow!  And it's my favorite color too. 

Slug Bug red!  Score!  Ben!  And displaying his poor attitude at losing, I might add.  May I mention that it was pretty hard for me to be watching out for Slug Bugs when I was busy doing some scoring of my own in the back seat?  Yes.  It was. 

But alas, I was already losing interest in LL as soon as he quit being a killer whale trainer.  It was his mastery and control over the massive beast that enthralled me, so without any killer whales in Idaho, I knew we were doomed to be a short-lived flash in the pan, and Ben could continue his secret crush on me unabated. 

That is all.

. 

Swans. Somewhere. I don't know where we were because we were lost.

"Just" Laurie? (Updated)

Last nite, SanFranMan, in a bit of alcohol induced fantasy, asked me to check on his dad in the next room.  I knew he was remembering his dad, but I was sooo surprised how fast the tears came to my eyes, wishing I really could step into the next room to check on his dad.  I wanted to so badly. 

That was really a good time in my life, despite us breaking up during that time, and the ugly family (his) shit that happened. 

In the past, I've hit him (SFM) over the head with not over-thanking me to death, putting me up on a pedestal for taking care of Jorge.  They gave me the car, which was far too much, but to me, that sealed the deal.  I kept saying taking care of him was good for me too, so it wasn't like I was some sort of saint for doing it.  I felt uncomfortable to all the thanks he gave me, as well as some members of his family. 

But now I feel different. 

Not that I think I'm a saint.  But taking care of Jorge was one of the most rewarding things I've done.  Besides Jacob, it was a soul-learning time for me, and one I'll always remember.  It was hard, it was scary, it was draining.  But I did it for him, because he needed it, and no one else could do it.  And my best friend needed me to help her take care of her dad.  And I did it because I loved SanFranMan, and he needed his mind at rest regarding his dad, since he couldn't be there himself, either. 

So it's okay to remember me as the one who took care of his dad after all.  It was important, what I did, and I was good at it.  It came at a time when I most needed to learn that I was useful after all, that even with MS, I was still good at something.  So he just better remember it. 

When I was in San Francisco last, we were talking about something, and I don't even remember what it was.  But the phrase came from his mouth "Yea, but you're Laurie" and I heard it as "just Laurie".  It wasn't an insult, because it was in the frame of him knowing I accept him as he is, where someone else might not, if they knew everything I know?  That he doesn't have to hide parts of him from me. 

I'm not "just Laurie" tho.  I'm ready to claim that it was really a special and great thing to take care of his dad.

Another thing.  After we broke up, he had told his sister that he wouldn't have "made it without her", meaning me, during that time when his wife kidnapped his kids to the East Coast, and while his dad was dying.  I have spent some months resenting "being used", and then dumped on my ass, but for some reason, all of a sudden one day, I thought to myself, "He's right".  Falling in love with me took him away from the misery of his real life.  I've never seen anyone be in such pain as he was, when his kids were taken.  It's not something he planned on doing, and if there was a willing diversion to take his mind off his living hell... then it would be easy to fall into. 

The only problem that still rankles is the deception that took place before the break-up.  That still dirties up the experience, and will always create doubt about future interactions, but maybe that's a lession I deserved...for falling in love with a married man.   

Oh, wouldn't he like that free pass?  Hmmm.  Not on your life, baby.  Dishonesty still makes me want to throw up. 

He damn well better always remember, and keep a tiny part of his heart open to towards me. 

Cause I'm gonna need his help unloading the U-Haul when I move down there...

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The naiveness of some people...

Remember this post some time ago?  And this one? 

.

Last nite, he emailed me:

. 

"I've had blood in my pee lately. The nurse was alarmed that I didn't have any pain, and blood'. We'll see. I'll let you know what they don't find out..."

.

We had talked lightly about prostate matters while I was down there a week ago, he's lost weight, has some mole issues, get thee to a doctor I say.  So when I read the email, I was pleased that he really was doing something about health care. 

.

So I write back, telling him about going thru the same thing, my nurse was shocked I had had no pain considering the massive bladder infection I had raging inside of me, but I was peeing blood too, blah blah blah. 

.

But on the inside, I was also thinking about prostate cancer and melanoma, etc. cause that's what I do best - jump to conclusions and worry assumptions. 

.

He responds "So I can't tell you darling, that it's sexual?  Thanks for responding...

.

Huh?  And what is that ... (ellipsis) all about?  So I made a stupid joke about sick dicks, and not to call me darling.  That I would google "bloody urine in men", to see if it showed up in sexual matters.   

.

Has anybody caught on yet? 

.

Cause I sure hadn't.

.

I didn't do the googling after all, cause I've got my own theory based on certain auras I saw on him last week, and didn't want to influence myself (or him) either way.  I was pretty sure he had a bladder infection - ms'ers who have pee problems usually do, and I had given him some pills to help retain... and perhaps they were retaining too well.  I wasn't worried.  Clueless?  Yes.

Went right to bed at 9pm, cause of the pain in my hands and feet.  I don't know why i think going to bed will help, but it's more like hiding from the world.  But I slept the slept of the dead.  As in real hard, no dreams, etc. 

. 

Then I woke up some 2-3 hours later, sat up in bed and thought "sexual"?  SEXUAL? Was he  trying to tell me he's being tested for STD's?????  Oh!  Well hell.  Here I am, worrying about fancy cancers, and melanomic moles, and he's in the basement with Herpes and Gonorrhea.  I'm used to thinking in the big leagues when it comes to illness, not mere sexual matters, my thinker is out of practice in that area.  I also knew he'd been seeing someone else at some point or other, which is good to know, in case we decided to bump hips again, and had to have the condom discussion... right?  Right.  But... ahem.  Which of course, we did. 

. 

So you know when you hear the kid 3 blocks away has head lice, and then suddenly, five minutes later, you're itching and scratching like mad?  Well, there I lay in bed, sweating like a pig, either cause the fan had turned off, or because I had a raging STD all of a sudden.  So I LEAPED to the computer in a single bound, down the hall, and around the corner to re-read his emails.  Looked up STD's and none of them have bloody urine as symptoms. 

.

It's amazing the thoughts one can have when it's 1:30 in the morning.  Things magnify, and swirl around and don't hold still.  I wrote back, telling about my google research, and went back to bed, not really worried, but kind of pissed that at almost 50 years of age, I have to remember about condoms????  When I NEVER remember such things when such things comes up...? 

.

This morning in my mail... he was just kidding.  About the sexual part of it. 

.

>:-{

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Men are just... confusing

I talked to a friend last nite for a long time, and I feel all put together again.  Amazing how just being able to talk about everything, and feeling understood and being understanding can heal the spirit some.  When he and I can talk like that, I fall in love all over again.

Something he kept saying tho, breaks my heart.  He was semi-seeing someone, but put the brakes on, "because he has nothing to offer a girl", because of the state of his life is pretty chaotic.  But in my mind, life doesn't have to be all neat and clean in order to 'present' it to someone to accept.  Love is accepting it now, as it is, and working together for a future, and nothing will ever be all neat and clean all the time, but at least you get to come home to someone who loves you, and go to bed and wake up in the morning to do it all over again.  If you can laugh together, then it'll work.  Because I love him, it makes me sad that he won't allow himself to get happy. 

Come to think of it, someone else once told me the same thing.  Maybe the white picket fence is more important to men than it is to women.  I always believed in building it together. 

Men.  Such assholes. 

Cept for the one who just gave me his credit card number....   :-)

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And no, it's not PMS (Updated)

I HATE being lied to.  Hate it.  And selfishness ranks right up there on my Hate Meter too.  And self-centeredness.

That is all. 

.

Update:  From a scene in Deadwood:  "When he ain’t lyin’, he's the most honorable man you’ll ever meet"

Thank you thigh monster machine, you done me good

Thank you, thigh monster machine, you done me good.  (click on the picture)

For the first time, I could see it for myself.  Everyone mentions it one way or another, and I jump up and down on the inside, and sometimes a little bit on the outside if I'm feeling athletic, but for the most part, I still look in the mirror, and see 'fat'.  I get positive remarks anytime I run into someone about how good I look now.  Course, in my head, it's been all about MS for the last 6 years - I often think they're talking about how I'm not walking like a stumbling ass drunk anymore.  So I'll twirl around, proud to show off, look at me, look at me, I'm spinning around and NOT falling down!

But feeling fat is what I'm used to feeling, so having my eyes catch up with my actual appearance is another battle to master.  I prefer to deal with reality, rather than some untrue vision within my head that lies to me.  It was the lying to myself that got me too heavy in the first place - that little voice that said "Oh go ahead and eat that 4th Twinkie, the calories decrease by half with each additional bite".  Or the one that told myself I bought size 18's because I preferred "baggy and comfortable".

But last nite, it became clear to me just how much weight I've lost, and also how it has changed me. 

When I looked down at his head between my legs, I prepared myself (girded my loins!!??! hahahaha) to slide my eyes right away because of the big thick thighs.  Instead, I stopped my eyes in astonishment - my thighs are skinny and fit and sexy.  Sexy!  I thought my thighs were sexy!  And it didn't matter one whit to me whether he thought so or not - my opinion was good enough! 

And with the freedom of not feeling self concious anymore, I was suddenly, shockingly able to... let myself go... if you know what I mean.  Many times over.  Because it was an impaling in the most pleasant meaning of the word. 

Course, then there became a new worry, that was a bit distracting at times.  One I probably should't mention to him, but I'll share it with Sir Internet and his Minioins - the thought kept crossing my mind that I could crush his head with. a. single. squeeze.  It was one powerful night in so many ways...

. 

Listen to me, it's my turn to talk

A Chat of Great Import

McShadow: Boy howdy do I need to talk to you. HUGE INSIGHTS going on about the aura stuff etc. But just had the worst MS episode ever, which seems to open me up to that stuff, but I'm so stressed and scattered I can't possibly talk about it. I'm blogging about it and it all makes sense that way, so I'll be sure to send it to you when I'm done. Give me a couple of days maybe even 3 or 4. But damn I wish I had your hands on me now. Don't take that sexual or horniness - it's that energy you have.

McShadow: Not to mention that HUGE INSIGHTS have caused me to believe I could support myself with my blog - am formatting a business plan in the midst of this chaos.

Hmmm, he must not be there.  Which pisses me off, cause it seems like he never sees my messages when they end up being 'offlines'. (They are supposed to pop up when you log in to the chat screen)

Me: Plus Jeffrey is facing possible belly surgery cause he ate part of a corn of the cob, and Muttin has something wrong with her paw and would require sedation for the vet to figure it out. Just their policy when working on paws cause they're so sensitive. So I'm just a bit scatter-brained at the moment.

ReikiMan: Hey
He: I'm reading.  Remember the book you gave me............
He: Bringers of the Dawn?

What the heck?  Is he not reading the above?

Ohhh, I'm typing like like the speed demon I am, and our messages aren't coming out in the right order.  Cause I'm fast and he's slow... yea, that's it.

He: I became interested in it again

He:  and ordered two more by the same author

He: some insights huh?

He:  concerning people you know??

He:  life?

He:  political events?

Me: people I see living here and on the street

He: OK

Me: what do you mean by "same author"?

Obviously I was still confused.  And still upset he was talking about some damn book when I was going thru such traumatic things MUCH more important than a book.  Even if I did give it to him!

So he copy and pastes a repeat of comment he had already said.  I had missed it, so caught up in typing what I wanted to talk about.  And he brought up the book - his way of telling me we're on the same page as far as subject matter.  Me - auras, he - end of the world stuff. 

He:  I think this country, and maybe the world...... are headed for some really strange events

He: in the Very near future

Me: so about Jeffrey...?  (Keeping it real, and all about me, thank you very much)

He: yes
He: I'm sorry to hear it

Me: you better be more than sorry to hear it, as far as I'm concerned

He:  Well, he will be fine
He:  just really sore for a few days
He:  and you will have to be careful with his diet
He: so what is your plan as to business?

Me:  business plan is to focus on doing my blog differently than all the rest of them out there
Me: there is one lady who's been able to support her family with her blog

He:  yep
He:  you told me

Me:  and her husband was able to
Me:  huh? When?
Me:  I just thought of it today! I couldn't have told you

He:  you actually you told me about a woman who did that.......
He:  months ago

Oh.  What a progressive thinker I am!  Even way back then, it was brewing in my brain...yea, that's it. 

Me: her husband was able to quit his very well paid computer programming job so he could pursue something he loved to do
Me:  I intend on doing the same thing in the dog world of blogging. 

He:  OK
He:  well,........... sounds like a good plan
He:  how do you market a blog?
He: get paid for it?

Me: her focus on her blog is her family, her post partum depression (sharing that daily struggle is what brought her the readers, cause they'd Google post partum depression, and since she blogged about it most every day, her blog came up on top

He:   He: 

He:                       He:                                                                                                                                                                                                            He: 

He:                                           He:                                                                                                                                                        
Me: hush you can see i'm typing can't you?  So stop it. 
Me: her blog came up on top all the time, nd they clicked on it
Me: wah lah - they got hooked on her story, and she's much better now, blah blah blah, the rest is history and she's famous. 

He: Ok
He: well........my question was...... how do you get paid for it??  Market it?? I don't blog. 

Me: advertisers paid attention to how many comments she got
Me: how many hits her page got
Me: so they ask her if they can advertise on her site   

He:  OK            

He: gotcha

Me: so one the sidebar of her blog there are ads - that you can or don't click on -

He: yep

Me: it doesn't really detract from her blog, unless you have an anal hatred of advertising

He:  yep, well I do............
He:  And then?
He:  so how do your perceptions (my huge and manic insights along with aura stuff) tie in with blog?

Me:  The hook is other people with MS will Google MS, and find me on top, cause I'm gonna post ALOT, and have things like "How to pick up money when you can't stand to touch anything Tips on it.  The other hook is for dog lovers.  Who's dog is cuter.  Contest!  Bring it on!

He:                              He: 

He:     He: 

He:                   He:                  He: 

Me:  I'm. Still. Talking. 

Me:  today, for the first time, I told some strangers about it, and they wanted the address so they could see it. They met my dogs in real life and wanted to see what I wrote about them, cause they're so damn cute. You yourself know how cute they are.  The cutest.  Aren't they.  I had my dogs with me, so they were hooked.  Maybe.  I hope. 

Yes, walk about town, meet my dogs, hand out business cards with blog address on it.  First, Rigby, Idaho, population 3,000.  Next, San Francisco, population three quarters of a million.  Next... the world!  All via Sir Internet, my new best friend!!!

He:  Ok........ so your impressions don't directly connect with your blog.......except they will contribute to the content in some way?

Me:  yes
Me:  damn you're good
Me:  I never dreamed I'd actually be able to say all this - and it's fairly cognitively making sense isn't it?

He:  yep

Me:  I have a even grander plan but it will require someone who knows how to put a software program together - something the blogging world might kill for. 

Me: damn
Me:  I am in awe of myself right now, lemme tell ya

He:  I think you're on speed..........

Me:  no shit
Me:  It's like a high
Me:  I haven't slept since Friday morning (it was now Sunday nite)
Me:  One of the first clues I was in a flare-up?

He:  yes?

Me:  I woke up at 10am Friday morning

He:  what, you haven't slept since Fri morn?

Me:  WAIT

He:  yikes

Me:  let me finish with this thought before I lose it
Me:  I woke up at 10am Friday morning (unusual as hell in itself, normal is 7am) walked outside to pee the dogs, and my pajama bottoms were out on the patio....

He:  (silence)... (which is my favorite position).

Me:  the ONLY possibility is that I must have woke up in the nite to take them outside, and I took them off

Me:  okay I am done.

He:  You silly..........
He:  now that did not connect with the rest of your story, Laurie HARVEY

Yes it did!  I don't know how, but it did.  ALL this stuff came up cause I'm in this flare-up from hell.  All the aura stuff and brilliant brain stuff, suddenly figuring out things I've been trying to figure out for months.  Punctuation, my camera, etc.  Hmpph.  Obviously, he isn't listening. 

Me:  I need permission to blog this conversation cause I just clarified the whole thing in a nutshell, and my version would have been MUCH longer.
Me:  minus the bizness plan details of course

He:  can you strip out who I am?

Me:  I call you ReikiMan in the blog. Would you rather I pretend you're someone else?  That I'm having this conversation with Joe Blow? 

He:  Whatever.............doesn't matter..... as long as people don't know who I really am

Me:  of course

He:  okey doke

Me:  : thank you very much

Me:  you've always understand the aura stuff

He:  back to reading............relaxing................sleep........... Yes. We do have a special connection in that way

Me:  I mean, understanding it, along with understanding business plan type stuff.  You were the right person to talk to.

He:  maybe on a mulitdimensional level

Me:  easy to talk to I mean, and being able to understand it instantly.  Before I forget what I'm saying.  There's a guy here who's into it but it's hard to talk to him.  He takes 15 minutes to get to his point

He:  Laurie...... sometimes a catalyst is nice....... but its all there.......Inside YOU

Me:  and I don't have patience enough to listen that long!

He:  me neither

Me:  I know that now about it being inside me

He:  You know of course..................that although you have MS in this dimensional reality.......
you don't in others...and what you do in this one affects all the others too

Me:  oh my goodness that is so true. I hadn't reached that awareness yet, but I know y're right

He:  We're connected to much much more than most people realize. Most people are walking around asleep thats one reason our country and the world too is so screwed up

Me:  Another thing I've done in the last 2 days is learn

Me:  how to operate all the million options on my 500.00 digital camera

Me:  I suddenly understand punctuation in the most minute detail

Me: and I learned how to operate my voice recorder all of a sudden, after trying to figure it out for months too, just like my camera

He:  I should get me a digital but I sure like to Pentax

Me:  they are so damn handy.  Takes grea photos, if there's something you need to document at work, like some sort of accident, take a picture to help your case.  A digital is just point and shoot. You don't have to take the time to operate the camera.  Sooo handy that way

Me:  mine has a anti shake feature (that i just learned about) meaning if if I"m a bit shak, it'll stabilize it a bit

He:  yep, I know.  Ok......... I'm gone

Me:  See you another time   

He:  still going to SF?

Me:  I still am planning on it, but the whole Jeffrey thing is freaking me out

He:  yep.  well..............................if you don't, you can use the ticket another time.  Just pay the fee to use it another time

Me:  if I believed the universe... would this be a message that I'm not supposed to go...

He:  depends on how it goes with Jeffrey.  and it depends on what your innards are saying to you

Me:  Goodnite, I'm serious this time.  Not another word

He:  Thats what you have to listen to.  LISTEN, LISTEN, LISTEN.........there are a few times I wished I had.........

Me:  This is the ReikiMan that I love, and I haven't seen him in a VERY long time, and that in itself is kinda sad

He:  Nooooooooo I've been here all along.  But at times........... our state of being didn't connect

Me:  oh for heavens sake you have an answer for everything, don't you?

He:  hmmmmmm

Me:  I KNOW you're right.  I just hate it when you are....

He:  Only in my mind. I'm a legend in my own mind....

Me:  Nite

He:  Nite

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Thank you for buying my plane ticket, even tho I know you think I'm insane for moving there. 

But deep down, it was meant to be, cause you bought me this shirt back in our time together (and now it fits!  It was too small before!!), but it has a heart on it.  Hearts + San Francisco = Where I belong. 

I think. 

If cable costs more than 150.00 a month - I'm screwed. 

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Strike One

Someone called me last nite.  Made me laugh, which is the best thing.  Was wiggle-ing his way under my heart wings when suddenly, everything went south. 

He said something about Jeffrey needing to change his name cause he was named after some ...."has-been". 

In the Pretty Woman/Julia Roberts tradition, when she was shopping on Rodeo Drive in her hoochie clothes, and a snootie saleswoman looked down her nose - she then went shopping elsewhere, and bought many, many nice things.  She stopped by the snootie saleswoman shop, dressed to the nines, and said "You work on commission, don't you?  The saleslady nodded her head, and Julia Roberts holds up her high-end shopping bags and says  "Biigg Mistake.  Big."

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Spike in Profile

I sent this picture to SanFranMan, whom I haven't talked to for quite some time.  Actually, no, he called the other day.  Anyways, I sent it with no words, just the pic.

His response was "She's adorable".  For some reason, this just tickled me.  He said "she".  He knows her profile.  Which is so silly, cause of course he knows my dogs. 

Ahem.  He knows her specially well...

(And causing me to fall in love about 6 feet deeper). 

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I Promised to tell you first, Internet. I've fallen in love and he's got a big heart.

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I met him at the grocery store.  My counselor told me to be open to meeting people in everyday places and to introduce myself if I saw someone interesting. 

He was hanging out with his friends.  Because I'm a lady, I didn't respond when they whistled.  But when he brought me some string cheese, I became a little smitten. 

I was surprised to find him in my cart when I left, but he asked very nicely if he could go home with me. 

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Boys and MS Experiment

So.  There's Nimby, the jail building construction guy.  There's VetMan.  And also LabMan, cause of his black labrador dog.  When I called him to cancel our walk around the lake yesterday, he asked to try again this morning, and I said sure.   

So.  Is it bad of me to play a little experiment regarding the MS? 

I haven't told VetMan about the MS, and we've gone out two times so far.  He's going to the races with me in two weeks.  I'm sure I'll hear from him before then.  I don't plan on telling him until he notices any symptoms himself, and then I'll tell him, as if it's 'normal', it's no big deal most of the time, and it's just so much a part of me that it didn't occur to tell him sooner. 

Hmmm.  He wanted to read the blog.  Guess I better not give him the URL, huh?  That settles that!

I'll wait till 5-6 dates before telling Nimby.  Five or six dates would mean he's definitely interested, right?  We'll see how he reacts, and whether he'll continue to call.

I did tell LabMan this morning, saying that pain kept me awake all nite.  Naturally he asked about the pain, so I told him about the MS.  He was suprised because it didn't show at all, but it didn't seem to be a big deal to him.  He wants to walk again tomorrow morning.   

So.  Three scenarios. 

If it were you, when would you tell a potential partner about your chronic, stupid illness?

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Mere Coincidence

I've been asked if the recent flurry of heart pics means that I've found love again, since this reader knows the history of the heart pics, and it seems to be raining men around here.  I haven't told you about taking the dogs for a walk at SmallTown Lake this morning, and meeting a guy with a black lab, and how we're going to meet tomorrow morning to walk the dogs together.  My social life is definitely picking up.  I'm only doing it for my counselor, who says I need to get out more. 

Nope.  In transferring the old blog to this one, I came across the pictures and remembered that I used to make hearts, so I just started it again. 

If I fall in love ever again, the Internet will be the first to know.  I'm not planning on it cause I want to move away from here. 

Our drought is officially over, the reservoirs are all filled, and there's actually too much water, cause some areas are flooding.  So why is Mystery Lake down so low?  It's spose to be at least to the boat dock there on the top left. 

There's a river/creek/stream? along the walk path.  Muttin scared me to death.  She LOVES the water, and kept wanting to go in further, but the current was too fast.  She thinks she's a Labrador.  We'd seen a lady's black lab jump in chasing a ball, and it had trouble swimming and getting back to shore.  He was big and burly, and Muttin is small and dainty.  She would have been beaver food. 

Update:  I didn't go walking with the LabMan this morning cause I slept only 1 1/2 hours last nite, cause of pain.  Which brings up another subject, but that's a whole other post. 

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Buy me some peanuts and Cr@cker J@cks

This is the "leash thingy with a handle" that I mentioned before.  I was reminded of it this morning, when I took the dogs out on their morning walk.  I had dropped the handle part, and had ahold of the baggie, which unraveled the blue baggies halfway down the block.  The dogs walked into the street, and I was holding onto them by mere plastic.  MERE! 

Five poops in 40 minutes.  Luckily, I didn't have to pick them up as we were on a dirt road along the canals. 

Which also brings me to the fact that I'm spose to go out to dinner with the VetMan tonight. 

There's a problem.  I've got to count laps at the races tonight.  And it's always so difficult to explain "counting laps". 

So I called him with the news, and he was all he'll go with me, and I was all okay, but we won't be done till really late, like around midnight.  And he was all "All the more time to spend with you".   And I was all I'd rather he stay home and record the NASCAR race for me, cause I couldn't figure out my VCR, and he was all "Redneck?", and I don't know if that's cause I don't know how to operate my VCR, or if it's because I'm a NASCAR fan, and I was all "Aren't you on call or something tonite, and he hummed the 'Take me out to the ballgame, which I'm assuming he replaced ballgame with 'races'. 

Huh.  He's not into NASCAR?...

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Moving on.  Here's some pics of the haircuts. 

Aren't I cruel?  He won't take Daisy walking until it grows in some. 

Even if she's flirting with him. 

See the bare spot on his shoulder?  And her little arm?  And her chest?  What the hell was I thinking?  Least I didn't nip off her little boobies, which I did last time. 

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Me and my big mouth

The VetMan called this morning. 

He:  How's Jeffrey doing on the new diet?

Me:  SHITTY!

He:  Oh really, how come?

Me:  I just got back from our morning walk.  I had to pick up FOUR poops in 40 minutes. 

He:  Four?  (Trying not to laugh).

Me:  I hear you trying not to laugh.  This is not funny.  When they were on the chicken, they pooped ONCE a day.  They've been pooping 3-4 times a day now. 

He:  Well, that tells us that his system is working well.  Have you checked his anal glands to see if they're still soft and not impacted?

Me:  That is YOUR job, thank you very much, and you're doing it for free if you'll remember.

He:  Oh, yes. 

Me:  And you know what else?

He:  No, what?

Me:  The poopies are soft and mushy.  Before, they were small and firm  and not gross to pick up at all.  I gagged 4 times this morning. 

Me:  And this was without my morning pills.  Pain didn't add to the experience. 

He:  Pain? 

Me:  (oops, silently).  YesAndKnowWhatElse?

He:  There's more?  Maybe you should take a deep breathe?

Me:  Shut up.  I ran out of the cheapie baggies, so had to use the expensive blue ones that come inside the leash thingy.  And it's hard to manage tearing off a bag while holding the leashy thing, and they un-raveled themselves on the leash half way down the block.  I dropped the handle of the leash and was holding on to the dogs by the roll of un-raveled blue baggies. 

He:  Leashy thing?  Your leash has a handle? 

Me:  (frustrated)  It'd be easier to blog this, so I can just take a picture of the leash thingy and you'd know what I'm talking about.  (Ooops, I said I have a blog). 

He:  You have a blog?  Can I read it?

Me:  (damn)  I'll have to think about it.  It'd be weird having someone who knows me who lives close to me read it.  I couldn't lie about things as easily. 

He:  You lie on your blog?

Me:  I might be a liar all the time, for all you know.

He:  So.... the dogs didn't really poop 4 times in 40 minutes this morning, and they're not soft and mushy after all?  You're really lying so that it'll prove me wrong about the chicken? 

Me:  No!  I mean yes!  That was really true.  I NEVER lie about poops.  Poops are a serious issue around here.   Now my poops look like all the other dog poops who live here, and I could always defend myself about whether I picked up my poops or not, cause they turned white after a day, and I'd be able to say that the ones that didn't get picked up weren't mine, cause mine were  white.  And small. 

Him:  (I could hear the ??? going off in his head)  You eat raw chicken too? 

Me:  Oh, you're a smartass.  I'm going now. 

He:  Sounds like Jeffrey needs some fiber to firm up his stools. 

Me:  Broccoli?  And Triskets? 

He:  Broccoli's good.  Triskets would have too much sodium.

Me:  Jeffrey's not real fond of vegetables.  He does like corn, tho.

He:  Corn doesn't break down well enough to give significant nutritional value. 

Me:  You mean it comes out whole in the poopies. 

He:  The stools. 

Me:  (quiet)

He:  So the reason I called was to ask you out for Saturday nite, but I think I'll call you again tomorrow morning for more witty repartee. 

Me:  (thinking, damn him for using big words I'm gonna have to Google, and learn how to spell)

Me:  Okay.

He:  Okay you'll go out with me?  Or that I call tomorrow? 

Me:  Call tomorrow.  It'll depend on how many poopies I have to pick up between now and tomorrow.  I blame you for this, you know. 

He:  (Laughs) I can tell.  Well, I've got a cat's uterus calling my name.

Me:  I can honestly say no one has ever said that to me. 

He:  (Laughs)  I'll call you tomorrow.

Me:  Bye. 

Shit.  I let loose my two secrets.  Pills and blog.  I have a feeling fast talking it away isn't gonna hold for very long. 

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And uh oh.  This doesn't bode well for my fantasy of living by the sea. 

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Cause I'm dirty that way

My Physical Therapist with my Jeff Gordon socks.  He's way into NASCAR too, and his favorite driver?  Uh huh.  Jeff Gordon.  He's really, really an excellent therapist.   Yup, yup, yup. 

These are the books above his desk.  I asked him if "Adult Exercise" really meant "Porno Exercise".  A couple weeks later he told me he can't look at the notebook without laughing inside. 

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Boy, did I work this one or what?

Have I mentioned the fact that I feed the dogs raw chicken?  As in the bones too?  And that me and vet have a terse and tense time when it is discussed? 

Well.  As Jeffrey continues to gaze soulfully at nothing in the middle of the night, I tend to imagine it's because there's a bone splinter making mince meat of his innards.  I actually get up and find the phone, and scroll it down the the vet's number... just in case.  This also causes me to worry about their older years... will their jaws get weaker, and will they have the teeth strong enough to grind down those bones properly?

I went back to the Internet a couple days ago, to re-research the Raw/Barf diet.  There are those who swear by it, and those who think we're out to murder our beloved pets.  Us Raw/Barfer's tell ourselves and each other "The wolves and foxes ate the bones of their prey, be it a bird, rabbit or buffalo".  Wait.  Maybe not buffalo.  It was the White Man who killed off the buffalo's. 

But I read something I hadn't read before.  The wolves and foxes also ate the fur and feathers of their prey.  Their 'scat' (poopies) is found with fur or feathers surrounding the bones.  The conclusion is that the fur or feathers cushion the bones as it goes thru the system. 

Now, I love my dogs and all, but I can't see myself providing fur and/or feathers.  There are limits. 

So I researched for the best damn dog food there is in the world, determined to find one that will not make Jeffrey "ill" with his little anal gland problem.  Because he's had the problem every 5 months for the last 15 months, it seemed kinda coincidental that it's happened so regularly.  Maybe he'd have the problem every 5 months regardless of what he ate?  That is the question.  So I called the vet.

Me:  Remember how much you don't like my dogs eating raw chicken?

He:  Yes.

Me:  Well, now I'm paranoid about chicken bones.  And I think it's kinda odd that Jeffrey gets plugged up every 5 months. 

He:  Yes.

Me:  So maybe he'd do that regardless of what he ate, right?

He:  Yes.

Me:  So here's the deal.  If I take them off the raw chicken and try regular dog food, if he plugs up more than every 5 months, will you treat him for free?  During this experiment? 

He:  Yes.

Me:  Well that was easy.  You must really hate chicken bones.

He:  Now I have a question, since we're on a "yes" roll. 

Me:  Yes?

He:  Would you like to go out for a drink with me tomorrow nite?  Maybe dinner if you like me?

Me:  For free vet care I'll like you.  Sure! 

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So.  I'm going out with a veterinarian tomorrow nite. 

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Priorities, schmorities and dammit

Gads. 

I finally said I'd go to dinner with Nimby tonite.  He's persistant, and why not?  I'm doing it for my counselor.  She says I need to get out more.  Fine. 

I turned on the race just now to find out when the race is this morning. 

8pm tonight. 

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Muttin oughta charge

I took matters back into my own hands and reclaimed my backyard.  Ever since the jail construction dude/s let me know they watch me walk my dogs "cause my dogs are so cute", I've not walked back there, cause it was just too creepy and self-consciousy.  But then I told myself damn them!  Plus?  My dogs ARE cute.  So last Friday, I braved up and walked back my normal path, which puts me back in view of the construction guys.   

The same guy came over.  I pretended not to see him, and turned back down the courtyard.  Whew!  Another possible social crisis avoided! 

So this morning?  I tried again.  It's my backyard, dammit.  It's 750 steps if I complete the whole lap.  Those guys are gonna be there all year long.  So I braved up again.  The guy came over again.  We'll call him Nimby for "Not in my back yard" because the first comment he ever made to me was something about how I probably didn't like having a jail in my backyard. 

Nimby:  Hey, haven't seen ya around lately.

Me:  No...  I've been uh...

He:  Hey look, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable the other day.  Seemed like you kinda ran away pretty fast.

Me:  My uh dog uh was running away.  She doesn't mind real well.  (aren't I so brilliant?)

He:  Well, she sure is a cutie.  (As Muttin uncharacteristically allows herself to be petted as if she's settled in for a lifetime of being petted by this man).

Me:  Yes.  She is.  (As I look at her staring back at me smugly, her knowing damn well that I'd rather be anywhere but here at the moment).

He:  So, what are their names? 

Me:  Jeffrey.  And Muttin.  Muttin/Jeff.

He:  Laughs.  For a long time.  Too long.  One of those laughs that happen when you're running out of words when you're talking to someone who's socially backwards and only speaks in one word sentences. 

Me:  I smile, and glare at Muttin. 

He:  So listen, how about that lunch?  Can I take you out to lunch today or tomorrow? 

Me:  Umm.  Tomorrow would be better.  (As I looked down at my baggy sweats, which I had purposely put on since I don't WANT construction guys watch me walk my cute dogs.  Yea right.  I'm beginning to believe Muttin cast a spell on the whole damn bunch of them)

Then?  Muttin THREW herself down and rolled over to have her belly rubbed and he obliged her obvious display of slut-ness. 

Maybe I should have put the baggy sweats on her, damn her little black hide!   

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