Me 'n My Laptop

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

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

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

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

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

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Over hill, over dale

Remember CoWinky?  The guy that has so much in common with me?  He's way gay, as much as he tries to tell himself he isn't.  He was molested by a brother when he was young, so he's not sure if he was "trained" that way, or if he would have been naturally.  Plus, he's been excommunicated from the LDS church because it's a sin, so he tries to make himself believe he'd prefer girls.  But he doesn't light up like a giddy teenager when he's thinking about dating a girl. 

I don't know why I brought him up ... there was a reason, but it's slid away behind a plaque, I think. 

I haven't talked about pain and MS lately, have I?  Wanna know why?  Cause I don't have it!!!!  Nope, not me.  I don't have pain and I don't have MS.  So sayeth I.  That's all there is too it. 

I am physically and mentally worn out from having MS.  And from hiding the pain.  I am weary from having a cheerful voice when I am not cheerful.  I HATE the tone of pity that comes across as soon as someone knows I'm in pain.  SFM feels like he can't talk to me, that he's bothering me when I tell him there's pain.  He's the talker between the two of us, but I get even quieter when there's pain, so then I feel boring.  He likes intellectual discussions, and I just don't have it in my game anymore.  Men tend to feel more helpless cause they want to 'fix it', and it isn't fixable.  My sister is THE WORSE when it comes to that pity tone, yet if she ignored the fact that I hurt, I'd be pissed. 

Did you see the widgets with the countdowns for the 5k, and the half marathon?  I start training on Monday.  I got my bike out of Wheelie's basement, and it's now parked behind the couch.  I'll start out with biking for the first week.  I've still got that last 10 pesky pounds to lose, plus the 2nd goal weight loss of 20 pounds, to get to where the charts say I should be.  I'd be happy with just the 10 pounds, but the thought of carrying anything extra around a marathon doesn't sound like much fun, so I'm going for it. 

I like numbers and goals and charts and knowing that I have to do x in order to get to y.  (Who said I'd never need algebra?)  So I'm hoping this marathon thingy will take hold and I'll feel happy again with getting healthy again. 

I need to buy 3 pairs of running shoes.  So they be rotated for drying out between long runs.  There were a couple of other frightening facts I learned from Professor Google while researching how to train for marathons.  The very first thing I read?  Choose a flat road course for your first race.  Snort!  San Francisco? 

Lombard Street, touted as the crookedest street EVA, but San Franciscan's know there's another one more crooked. 

Not my picture, robbed from Google. 

My favorite street.  I LOVE the houses.

                                                                                                                       .                                                                                                                                       

This street is about 6 or seven blocks long.  Uphill.  Unless, of course, if you're going downhill. 

I took this picture, and it bothers me cause even tho I know better, I can't tell if the street is crooked or the houses are crooked. 

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Some famous band used to own this Victorian - it's dark gray/almost black, and I remember thinking the dark house suited the band - whoever they were. 

I tired myself out just looking at the pictures of hills in San Francisco.  Where one would be wise not to do their first distance race on ...

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Reason #18 for Moving to San Francisco

I have a planter's wart on the tip of my thumb.  According to the Internet, they only appear on feet.  Blink.  Blink.  Alrighty then.

They also breed and make more warts.  They're moving to the pad of my thumb.  I've had an itchy eye since last night. 

Enough.

I'm reading a book called hmmm.  I'm too damn lazy to go to the bedroom and get it so I can tell you the title.  I'll google it. 

From this day forward, I will not buy or eat anything that comes from a box.  And very little from cans.  I know in my gut that this is good for me and that I can do it.  It's even one of my reasons to move to San Francisco - fresh fruit and vegetables, cheaper, more available, and more variety. 

There are fresh fruit and vegetables on every corner, which would be Reason #18 for Moving to San Francisco.  If not on every corner, then at least on every block.  Okay, I'm exagerating, but I live in Idaho.  Where the fruit and vegetable aisles don't shine.  I love fresh fruit, even apples, which is a whole new experience with The Teeth. 

If you don't want to go shopping yourself, you can join local farms and have fresh produce delivered to you weekly.  !!!  Enough produce to feed two people is only $21.00 a week.  !!!  I can afford that.  I can soooo afford that, and it's so much healthier, and I LIKE it, too. 

I can't think about this anymore cause it makes me ache when I look out the window. 

Bleh.

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Aha!

I had an epiphany today while watching the handyman snow-blow a path around the courtyard and around the building.  Earlier, I had been outside in the parking lot, sweeping 8 inches of freshly fallen snow off the parked cars.  I did the same thing yesterday, only about 6 inches.  While doing so, I reflected within that I really enjoyed doing so - the sun was bright, the snow wasn't too heavy, and I knew most of the owners of the cars were either old, on walkers, in wheelchairs and they would appreciate it.  I get true joy out of doing for them, because I know how it feels to not be able to do things.  And it truly feels sooo good to be able to do it myself again.  On my good days.  To be thankful for the good days, I do for others. 

Regarding moving to next door town, for the purpose of being 3-4 blocks closer to the river, where there is a walking path going around the river, and it's plowed in the winter = safe walking. 

1.  Cats will be exposed to much more traffic, neighbors, other cats, etc.  They have back door patios, and my cats would be a bother.  Here, they pretty much have the run of the courtyard, and they bother no-one cause no-one goes out there very much.  We don't have outdoor acess to the courtyard.  They have the garden area to hunt mice, should they decide to become more like cats, rather than dogs.  They are safe from traffic. 

2.  The Curves in town is clear across town.  Here, there is a gym about 2 blocks away, and my walking route goes right next to it during the summer.  During the winter, the roads are slippery and dangerous. 

Our apartment handyman had a snow blower today, and he made a path around the courtyard, and around the building.  The snow is 2 feet deep back there.  It took the visual for me to realize that is all I need - keep a damn path cleared and I don't have to move away.  I HAVE to walk.  I've gained 15 pounds back, and I could care less about living again, and I KNOW walking will fix that. 

So, tomorrow, I am going to ask the landlady if she will commit to making a "sidewalk" for me in the winter, AND keep the garden area as a garden (she wants to plant grass), then I will stay here.  I couldn't ask for a better place for my animals.  The other issue was not being able to have bird/squirrel feeders.  She told the new guy that he could have one.  Hmmm. 

The other place (I'm next on the list to be called and someone is going to a nursing home, so it's close) allows 1 small pet.  I know I can get the two dogs approved, but the cats are iffy.  I TRIED not to get attached, but damn.  I am attached.  We are a family of five. 

As this epiphany was happening, I realized to what extent I've put my life on hold, because I have been planning to move for 3 years now.  San Francisco is going to be years, I'm afraid.  Unless I simply just go with no net underneath ... I'm not saying that I'm giving up - absolutely not.   

Also, the new guy that moved in whom has so much in common with me?  He and I have been walking together, and it's soooooo nice to have someone closer to my age around here that doesn't need help.  Plus the fact that he's not boyfriend material is a good thing, cause we don't have that "thing" that complicates boy/girl relationships.  He is an avid gardener too, and it will be soooo nice to have HELP out there, rather me being the one that does the majority of the physical work.  Al tho the in common stuff is starting to get creepy.  We both drive same year/make of car, we both used to drive Ford Explorers.  We were both molested by fathers, and babysitters.  We both used to work for Club Inc.  We both used to have the same counselor.  He sees auras and visions, as I do.  Oh.  Get this.  He collects hearts.  Yea ... like I said ...creepy. 

Anyways.  I am peaceful once again inside.  I'll join Snap Fitness again, and start living like I live here, instead of mentally packing up and jumping ship.  After moving furniture a couple weeks and making a walk-in closet, I have really been liking my apartment too. 

SanFranMan is obsessed by politics lately.  He really likes Hillary, to the point of imagining he and her have a personal relationship.  All in his mind.  He's been calling me every nite, and we argue about politics, and he talks about his daughter alot cause he's worried about her, and then we argue about Hillary and Obama some more.  I originally liked Obama, but ever since Hillary showed her human side a couple weeks ago, showing how exhausted she is, I have come to like her better than Obama.  He just doesn't have the experience, and she can hit the ground running, should she be elected.  Our country is finally accepting the fact that a woman can be president ... and it's a HUGE plus that the first woman president (possibly) just happens to have the best experience one could ask for ... she was a First Lady 7 years ago.  It's good Obama inspires and dreams - our country has hope again, I think.  Either one, tho, is better than any of the other contenders, and I'm pretty sure we'll have a Democratic president this time around.  Ideally?  Clinton and Obama on the same ticket.  Then 8 years for Clinton, and another 8 years for Obama ... just might fix the majority of our country's problems.  Medical insurance, the war, illegal aliens, the recession, Medicare being the top priorities.  Oh, and rebuilding our status as the greatest country in the world ...

I can't believe I veered off so much off the Epiphany Course. 

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Just Call Me

So I'm a bit slow with this - sue me

Am back from San Francisco, where SFM cruelly informed me last nite was 75 degrees at 8:30 pm.  Meanie.

I'm ready to leave it all.  All I need to take with me is the wicker, the animals, and some clothes.  I would really leave it all.  Most of it.  Cept for my Christmas stuff.  And my seasonal stuff.  And the computer, dinosaur that it is.  Oh and the butcher block.  And the toolbox.  And the dog beds.  And the glass dining table.  My bed can stay here.  As well as most of my clothes.  Must take my plants tho.  And at least half the books.  And my sewing machine, must take the sewing machine.  And the cat box.  Of course the cat box. 

Well, I'm tired now, having packed up my entire household in my head. 

Had a great time in San Francisco, did I mention that?  Love the houses, love the city, love SFM, love the weather.  And the public transportation.  Hate his roommate. 

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Just Call Me Wondering Why My Font is so Large

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Home again

I'm back home, only to leave again this coming Thursday.  Going to go babysit Duke ! while my son goes to Vegas for the weekend.  With his girlfriend ?! 

The kitties are still at Wheelie's house, so she can test out taking care of them while I'm gone.  Found a kennel for the dogs, and will spend the next few days stressing about leaving them. 

VetMan and I went to a Halloween party.

Him:  Wear denim.
Me:  Denim? 
Him:  As in jeans.
Me:  Jeans?  I don't have jeans.  But I do have denim pants.  And denim shoes.  And a denim shirt too.  Or a denim skirt.  No, can't wear the denim shoes with a skirt. 
He:  Okay.  Pick you up at 8 o clock.
Me:  But ... what am I going as?  Levi?  A ... blue ... sausage?  What?
He:  Never mind, I'll tell you when I see you.
Me:  Well, at least it's easy.  But I don't know these people so you better not make me look like an idiot by not having a costume after all.
He:  Bye.

So I wore denim.  He wore denim, including a cap, which I stole.  Then he slapped a name tag on me with "Jean" on it.  He had a name tag with "Gene".  We went as ... a pair of jeans.  Haha.  We were a hit, but didn't win the prize. 

As it turns out, VetMan and I have a previous connection.  As I listened to him and his friends reminisce about the past, the parties and parking on Steptoe Butte, I about fell over in my wine cooler.  SonOne was born in Colfax, Washington, lo those 26 years ago.  I told the group that fact, and that we lived at the base of the butte in a little white farm house.  VetMan about fell over in his beer at that point, saying "We own that house".  !!!  I misunderstood and assumed that it meant my husband had worked for his family, but no, his family had bought that house and land 20 years ago.  Small world. 

Someday, I'll have to delve into all the coincidences in my life. 

Anyways, VetMan stayed an extra week so he could go to the party and also my birthday.  He's leaving for parts unknown to Argentina tonight.  Again without Internet.  I tease him about being a boy toy (not my boy toy, I am as pure as the driven snow at this point) without a real job and he needs to get a life.   The fact that he travels the world, learning how to vet zebras and tigers and elephants sounds too exotic - certainly no life to have.  I've often wondered how he could afford his lifestyle - now I know.  Maybe I should become Mrs. Land Baron. 

It's a toss-up.  I've often said my next love will be with a Harley and the man that goes with it, so I could claim to be a "biker chick".  Wearing leather. 

San Francisco reared it's head again in my life by popping up in unexpected places.  Twice on TV, the shows based in SF and also a book that I picked up is based in San Francisco.  As I told SanFranMan, it's strange feeling homesick for a place I've never lived, but it's as real can be.  He's not understood "the dream", but he seems to have found the place he belongs too.  Hopefully ... someday we'll both have what we want. 

I've had a bad couple of days with the pain.  I'm up two more doses of meds than normal.  With every little flare-up, I get scared that it's going to go back to how it used to be, with the fatigue making me not be able to do anything.  On the other hand, looking so damn normal and healthy makes it really hard for people to understand that I really do have limitations.  I tend to hide it for the most part, but my voice and face give it away to the people who know me well.  Which blows the facade, damn it. 

More on MS later.  I've got to unpack from being at Wheelie's for the last two weeks, then I need to pack for Spokane.  And figure out how PPGuy is going to get his "supplies" while I'm gone.  Getting him an aide is not going as hoped for - and I'm getting burned out.  I struggle with the whole issue anyways, and now he's pissing me off.  It's just plain laziness not flushing the toilet.  He puts his beer cans in grocery sacks, and they surround him in his chair.  The futon mattress is saturated with urine, and he's now sleeping on the floor.  He thinks he and I can put the futon on a grocery cart to get it out of there, when the damn thing weighs a ton being soaked.  He can barely walk.  The other day, I walked in and he was crawling on the floor, heading for the toaster so he could light his cigarette.  I told him he needed to be in assisted living if he was crawling on the floor, but he said it was because he stood up too fast.  Whatever.  His caseworker and I formulated a plan to turn him into Adult Protection, where they can just take him to someplace that will care for him because he's not taking care of himself.  Since he owes me money, and hasn't got his check yet, I asked if we could wait and "threaten" him with being turned in, and that if he didn't start eating, flushing, and taking his beer cans to the garbage, we'd call them.  I told him yesterday, and he says he'll do it.  I know he won't.  It's the bare minimum he can do, and I know he won't.  I think I'll have another talk with him about dying.  It dawned on me that last time, when he said he didn't want to die, that he thinks that I'll report him being suicidal if he tells me he wants to die.  In the counseling world, by law you're supposed to report anyone who is suicidal.  Then they get sent to the Behavior Health Center.  He knows this.  I think I need to tell him I won't report it if he tells me that he's knowingly starving himself to death.  Because I need to know if I walk in there one day to find him on his last legs whether I'm to call the ambulance or not.  And he needs a Living Will stating he wants "DNR".  Do Not Resuscitate". 

Heavy issues, this.  I seem to be drawn to them.  Because I'm good at it.  Most people are uncomfortable talking about death, but to me, it's part of life.  Ironic - that sentence.   

Jacob has been on my mind alot for the last couple of weeks.  Probably because I turned 50 years old, and don't like it one bit.  Too much looking back.  And just now, I suddenly remembered that Steptoe Butte is where I spread Jacob's ashes. 

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Just Call Me Contemplative

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Should I go?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Over and out -

Just Call Me Tired
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Reason # 19 - No kill, anyone?

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

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

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

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

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

The little hellions. 

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Just Call Me Still Tired
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Sappy Sunday 2 and Loudon, and damn animals complicate my life

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As it's Sappy Sunday, the day I'm spose to post a heart pic, I decided to combine my love for Jeff Gordon (and Ben because he's enabled me to continue with the bobble head pics on race day) with the heart pic. 

The race is at ... Loudon, in New Hampshire. 

I've got a massive headache, probably induced by spending 40 hours of the last 48 in bed.  A combination of pain and depression, no doubt.  But NASCAR is on right now, and it looks like a beautiful fall day outside. 

SFM left messages all over the place yesterday, telling me that there's no animals allowed on their lease, so moving in with them is out.  Dammit.  I just now read the email sent to me by the other room mate, and she seemed to imply that even tho there is no animals allowed, SFM already lives there ... and he's animal enough?  Hahaha.  See, I told you she doesn't like anybody!

And yes ... I've started drinking today at 12:30pm.  I plan on drinking myself under the table today. 

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Just Call Me 3 Sheets to the Wind

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More San Francisco

Tonite I had sushi for the first time.  Something tame like crab and shrimp and avocado.  Wrapped in seaweed.  I'm not sure what all the hubbub is about, but it's good to try new things. 

The Negative Roommate and I went to North Beach for breakfast at "Mama's" - very very good.  I'm having a hard time finding things to eat that will work with The Teeth - last nite we had gourmet pizza, and the crust was hard, so it made The Teeth sore, as did the waffle cone the day before.  And the bacon this morning.  So I've decided pancakes is the way to go for the next few mornings.  With blueberries!  For staining the dentures!  Because it's not enough that Muttin tried to eat them - I need to make my own mark on them.

This morning I woke up missing the dogs, so I text messaged them, and they're doing just fine.  As my niece said "Your puppies are fine, but silly".  It touched me that she called them "puppies" cause that's what they are in my mind, secretly, because my son always corrects me when I call them puppies - "They're not puppies anymore, Mom".  Then it touched me that she said they were silly.  Obviously, I found the right person to baby-sit them. 

Oddly, when thinking of Duke, I feel like a teenage girl who stayed out too late, and her dad is going to yell at her for missing her curfew.  As if Duke is going to punish me.  What the hell is that all about???

SFM could tell I was missing the dogs - cause I got quiet this morning.  But at the same time, I don't want to leave.  I LOVE it here.  It is so energizing for me, for some reason.

We also went to China Town today.  What an amazing place.  I want to live right in there.  There are butcher shops where I could get fresh chicken and beef to feed the dogs - they would grind it up for me.  Fresh fruit and vegetables are on every corner and so cheap - I honestly don't think money will be an issue when I move.

I got a manicure and pedicure this morning, done by an Asian guy so gay that I was convinced I'd go gay before I left the place.  Another customer came in to have a manicure, and he also was gay.  The owner didn't charge him.  I heard him say "No charge for  you" giggle giggle.  So evidently, if you're gay in that place, you don't have to pay.  So not fair!

The new plan is for me to be the third roommate here where SFM lives.  Miss Negative isn't going to last long, so I'm going to suck up to the other roommate, who seems to hate me, and convince her that I should move in - at least she knows me, and knows I'd be better than the last two wack jobs who've moved in.  I'll take pictures of the place - I love it here.  There's even a little dog park across the street. 

I say "seems" to hate me because the last two times I've been here, she's said less than 10 words to me, but this evening she asked if I wanted to go to the Farmer's Market with her tomorrow morning.  ???  If I don't return to blog by tomorrow nite, you'll know she had me "taken care of" and tossed under the docks, and my body will be found in the shipping lanes by some Russian boat. 

Must go now, one of us is calling for a foot rub.  And a back rub. 

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Just Call Me Still Happy But Missing My Dogs and Nervous About Going to the Farmer's Market

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Housing Authority, Niece, Dogs, and Fisherman's Wharf

Day Four of my San Francisco trip is upon me, and I am already getting sad about having to leave on Sunday.  I've only thought of the dogs 72 times since being here.  Altho most of those times were yesterday morning when my niece, who is babysitting Muttin/Jeff, called at 7:30am, asking where the leashes were cause the landlady snarled at her and told her the dogs are supposed to be on leashes when they were outside.  What the hell?  I've never had to do that, but she also told me that I couldn't hang my clothes outside to dry on one of those foldy-up wooden rack thingys either.  Which I plan to ignore, cause the list of what we can and can't do is getting longer and longer and I don't live in a damn institution.  Anyways, whenever I get a phone call from home, my heart fails because I'm sure something awful has happened to the dogs, and I almost don't want to answer. 

Ring ring ring.  Wakes us up at 7:30am.

SFM:  That's your phone, where is it? 

Me:  I dunno. 

SFM:  (finds it, hands it over to me, grumbling, cause we were up too late, talking)

Me:  (sees it's my niece, don't want to answer but I do)  Hello?

Niece:  (too damn bright and chipper at 7:30am in the morning, 8:30am her time)  Hi, how are you?

Me:  Fine. 

Me:  (waits for the horrendous news that Muttin got run over, Jeffrey died in grief and Duke bit the foot of some little kid riding his bike and the father of said kid shot Duke in retaliation)

Niece:  Where's the leashes?

Me:  What the hell?  Why?  (willing my heart to slow down) 

Niece:  The landlady said they had to be on leashes.

Me:  Oh, she's just being a bitch cause I sure don't have them on leashes for peeing and pooping.  But the leashes are hanging by the door.

Niece:  Oh I see them. 

Me:  Your best bet is to leash them, walk them out to the garden, and then let them loose, to hell with the landlady.  Call me if she gives you any more trouble. 

Niece:  (all bright and chipper like) Okay, have fun, bye.

Me:  Bye (while heart tries to regain it's normal rhythm)

SFM:  She had to call you at 7:30am in the morning for leashes?

Me:  The dogs have to pee!  So yes, she did.  (While I think to myself you traitor, you said you loved the dogs, but if you really loved the dogs, you wouldn't care if we were called at 2am in the morning and they only needed to hear my voice ... you'd understand... sniff.  You non-dog lover, you). 

We:  (go back to sleep because that's one of the benefits of being self-employed)

Yesterday, I went to the Housing Authority, where I had to gird my loins, so to speak, in order to go down there by myself.  Last time I was there, there were long lines, and rude, rude, rude people that talked so funny that most of the time I couldn't  understand them, which made them even more ruder.  We got there early in the morning, hoping to avoid the lines, and that was good.  One hurdle down.  The rudeness factor was in check also, but after watching how some people are - I could understand why the people behind the window are so rude.  There were obviously druggies and hung-over people making demands as if they were God's gift to humanity.  There were young people there with 3-400 hundred dollar tennis shoes and/or jackets, and with their Blackberries and Ipods, or IPhones.  Which is just wrong.  And wrong.  And more wrong. 

So after watching one exchange between the receptionist and a woman who was high on something, I smiled at Miss Receptionist in sympathy.  A little bit later, she changed jobs and evidently became a case worker, so when she called my name, she was nice to me, speaking in a tone of voice that I could understand.  First she told me that as an out-of-stater, I would be on the bottom of the list for a long time.  I had written a letter several months ago, giving my address as SanFranMan's, but evidently unless you change it IN PERSON, they ignore any written correspondence, even tho on their paperwork, that's exactly what they tell you to do.  She said "It's not like you're going to jump on a plane after we send you your appointment letter within the week".  Umm.  Which is exactly what I did 3 different times, only to be told I had to jump another hoop in order to qualify.  But I didn't tell her of that, since it was increasingly clear that everything they had told me to do was all for naught. 

So now, I've changed my address to SFM's IN PERSON, changed my driver's license to his address, and today will look for a bank to deposit my disability check into. 

One lady told me she'd been waiting for 7 years.  I gasped and said "But but but ... are you on disability?"  No, she isn't, thank god.  I mean, disability moves you WAY UP the list.  I had asked Miss Receptionist Turned Case Worker if I was going to have to start all over.  She said that when my new address was typed into the computer, it would move me up probably by half - but she had no way of knowing, because the computer is set up to do the ranking by all sorts of standards, none of which the ordinary employees knew or understood - that was the programmer's job, etc.  Plus it's set up on some sort of lottery system.  The fact that I came to the top of the list 3 previous times gives me hope that it won't take 7 years ...

Today's plan for a cold, foggy day?  To clean SFM's room, change the sheets, do laundry, file papers, pack away 72 tons of garbage, etc.

Yesterday I took the bus to Fisherman's Wharf, walked all around, ate a pretzel, and a chocolate ice cream cone with strawberries and whipped cream, which got all over me, rather than in my mouth, but hey.   I took a cruise/tour of Alcatraz which used to be a prison.  Also went to the huge aquarium on the bay.  Did not like the prison, loved petting the sharks. 

Then I walked 6 blocks in one direction, trying to find the bus stop, and when I finally did, SFM called and said he'd come get me, but to go back to Fisherman's Wharf and he'd pick me up there.  And there I'd been feeling so proud of myself for doing the whole bus thing myself, even tho the Internet lied to me and told me to get off 6 blocks away from the wharf and get back on another 6 blocks away in another direction.  But he's always so concerned about me, gallivanting around the town the way I do, even tho secretly he's pleased that I'm the adventurous type, and don't need 100% of his attention when I come visit.  He's more than happy that I take off on my own as long as I leave him a note, and so far, he keeps picking me up, always surprised I've walked or done as much as I've done while he was off working his butt off to afford my fun.  When he picked me up last nite, I climbed into the car, babbling about how much I love this city, and babble babble babble.  Last nite, right before he fell asleep, he told me that if he had a million dollars, he'd sure buy me a place "cause I love it here so much". 

Sniff.

So he's got lottery tickets that we forgot to check last nite to see if we're he's a winner.

*

Just Call Me Happy

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I am amongst the Crazy People, and I may also be one

Today's Weird People Moment was:

I was standing outside the Housing Authority building, waiting for SanFranMan to pick me up.  A free clinic was next door, so there were all kinds of strange people hanging around.  It's a little nerve-racking when you hear cow noises coming out of a human mouth, but you just keep to yourself and hopefully the crazies won't be contagious.  I tried to look at the Crazy People thru the eyes of the Negative Roomate, but I couldn't - I just personally find the Crazy People fascinating, so they don't bother me.  Well, that is until you're sitting at a diner eating your burrito when suddenly there's a cow behind you ...

So anyways - there was a perfectly nice, normal, respectable looking man staring at me, when he suddenly asked me, "Who cut your bangs?"

???

Of all the questions in the world to ask when hitting on someone ... "Who cut your bangs?", doesn't really stand out as a winner.  I cleverly stammered, "I don't know".  Then I realized that didn't really sound intelligent - the average person usually knows who cut their bangs, especially when that person is themself... "Oh, wait, I cut my bangs", I said.  He didn't say a word.  So then I proceded to become self-conscious about my bangs.  And about becoming one of the Crazy People cause I didn't know who cut my bangs at first. 

On another note, I give SFM (who also has MS) my pee pills, because he doesn't have insurance, they're 3 times as much as they are in Idaho - and he has peeing problems worse than I do.  Or wait, maybe not worse, but he's got them everyday, whereas, I only have them during flare-ups.  But even with taking one dose, he's still waking up 2-3 times at nite to pee.  So I suggested taking another one at nite, and if it helped, I'd get the prescription doubled. 

He:  So do you think that will help?

Me:  I dunno.  If they do, they do.  It depends. 

He:  (Chuckles) 

Me:  What was so funny? 

He:  "Depends".

*

Just Call Me Worried about the Craziness

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I'm here

After a day where EVERYTHING went wrong on travel day, I finally arrived in San Francisco nite before last, alive.  I almost said alive and "well", but the "well" was debateable.  The things that added to the stress were ... like the bank wouldn't let me do a money order cause I wasn't a member.  Or I forgot to take Duke's bed to where he's staying.  Or there was a train STALLED on the tracks when I was in a HURRY TO CATCH A PLANE Thankyouverymuch.  Oh, and umm, the person who arranged my shuttle to the airport?  Let's just say I live in Rigby, and the person had me catching the shuttle in Idaho Falls.  So the neighbor who took me to the shuttle station offered to drive me the 4 hours to the airport.  I made my flight with barely 15 minutes to spare. 

Have I mentioned that I love it here?  SanFranMan is off to work this morning and I'm going to take the bus down to the thrift shops in the Mission district. 

Update:  Okay, so I'm back from thrift shopping in the Mission district.  One of his roomates went with me, and while it was fun, ohmyGOD is she negative.  I never realized just how much energy that takes up in a person.  Including the one who is having to listen to it all.  She kept trying to convince me that I didn't want to live in San Francisco.  Didn't work.  Tomorrow morning, I'm going down to the Housing Authority to find out why the HELL it's taking so long for my application to go thru.  I've been patient enough, don't you think? 

I fell down, flat on my face today while walking.  That was fun.  One minute I was upright, the next I was down.  Got a bloody knee and maybe a black eye by the time morning comes - it's not quite showing up yet, but surely it's gonna happen.  That would look good, going into housing with a black eye - being in an abusive situation would move me right up the list.  !!!

 

I don't care, I don't careIdon'tcaredon't care

Uh oh.

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.

*

Just Call me Immediate Soul Searcher

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Everybody gets to go but me

After the busy morning of watching my aide watch TV while I vacuumed, and finally sending her away, I sat down to do my daily duty with the computer. 

First, I flipped thru the channels on TV.  I stopped at a baseball game, and noticed the "letsgreenthiscity.com" on the backboard behind the batter.  Thought to myself that it must be in San Francisco ... and it was!  Okay, so the TV show is selected, it's the San Francisco Giants vs. ummm ... Denver, I think.  Who cares, the important team has been established and it's time for beer and chips and my baseball cap. 

Then I pulled up my Bloglines account to peruse my daily blog reading.  As always, I read Dooce first.  Note her entry for today.  She's there RIGHT NOW, the biittchh. 

And then I read my second favorite blog "Dog is my Co-Pilot".  I hate her cause that title should be MINE ALL MINE, and she doesn't even have a dog!  Her boyfriend just barely got one, and she's acting all motherly over it, but still ... before the last week, there was zero mention about dogs, so really, I think she ought to give me the title so I can re-name my blog, it's only right.  But I digress - she was just in San Francisco this last weekend, the biittchh. 

So three San Francisco sightings in the last 5 minutes.  Does this mean I should move NOW?  Is this a sign?  Huh huh huh? 

*

Just Call Me Ready

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Reason #18 - Green, anyone?

Last week was all about going green.  Green means trying to go back to nature in some ways in order to take care of our earth. 

So imagine my delight when I heard this - Reason #18 for Moving to San Francisco.  Go San Francisco!  First - gay marriage, and then no more plastic bags.  Sounds like San Francisco is the place to be.  Have I mentioned that? 

I think it's fun to figure out ways to take care of our earth.  You know those white grocery sacks from the grocery store?  The ones we save and reuse for garbage sacks?  They don't break down (for a 1000 years? I heard?), so there they sit in the dump, and the garbage inside doesn't either.  This is bad for Mother Earth.  I can't stand the sound of them, especially if their in the back seat and the window is open, whipping the white bags around.  I have to stop the car and cover them up so they won't make that sound.  Ish.  I also hate them cause they blow around all over, and get caught up in treees and shrubs.  Ugly.  One one of my walks, there's a gorgous flowering tree, covered in pick blossoms.  I really really want to take a picture of it, but there's one of those damn bags tangled in some branches and it's a big white blight right in the center of the tree. 

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Reasons To Move to San Francisco

To recap: 

Reason #1 - Choice of places to go, places to eat and entertainment everywhere. 

Reason #2 - Weather is more temperate and stable - doesn't vary between 20 to 40 degrees from nite and day. 

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Reason #3 - Can get a job dog walking, be a nanny, or go to Service Dog Training School.

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Reason #4 - Walking clubs.  Will meet new people. 

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Reason #5 - Mormons are a minority.

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Reason #6 - Can buy pet insurance.

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Reason #7 - Can find the hearts that were in the Heart Project.  I will have one of my shoes in each picture to prove that I really took the picture, and didn't rob it off the net. 

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Reason #8 - Monthly newspaper on all things dogs. 

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Reason #9 - Several MS clinics.   A CHOICE in medical care.  Also, Yoga, Pilates, Curves on every corner. 

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Reason #10 - Medicinal pot is legal. 

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Reason #11 - Research clinics, pain clinics, and drug trial opportunities. 

Reason #12 - because happy cows are important to me.  And cheese.  Especially cheese. 

Reason #13 - I can't believe I haven't done this one yet!  It should be # 1 - THE BEACHES!

 

Reason #14 - Dog facilities.  Need I say more? 

Reason #15 - It's the end of the world as we know it ...

Reason #16 - So many different things to do.  There's this.  I certainly qualify - as a woman.  Then there's the different cultures.  But mostly?  There's this.  Where else can you celebrate St. Stupid's Day?

Reason #17 - I'm a supporter of going "green".  Those white plastic bags are a pet peeve. 

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Reason # 17 Thrifty thrifty thrifty. Cheap.

Reason #17 - As you all know, I am the Thrift Shop Queen.  Spring is my favorite season for 2 reasons - Nascar season starts anew, and garage sales start to pop up every weekend.  Cause god knows, I need to pack more things to move. 

(Proudest thrift shop find - coolest cookie jar EVER)

People who worry about the wisdom of my move to a very expensive city wonder how someone on disability (read - poor) could do it. 

Fresh fruits and vegetables are about half the price in SF as they are in Idaho.  One of the things I look most forward to is picking up my dinner during my daily walks.  Picking up bananas, cherries, tomatoes, green peppers?  Yum.  And good for you too.  I wonder if The Teeth will ever be able to eat celery again? 

I've always furnished my home with thrift shop finds, and second hand stores.  Old things have more character, and I can find original things.  Altho, one of most favorite finds was a circular stand with shelves.  Quite surprised to walk in my mom's place to see she had one too.  Bet I paid less tho - ten bucks! 

I will be selling or dumping all my dark, heavy bedroom furniture before I move, and resolve to take only the wicker furniture, the book shelves, and one couch.  And glass table.  I love wicker and glass.  And black edges.  Like the frame for the above mentioned shelf is black, as well as the frame for the glass table.   I'm gonna lighten the load

Roofs over heads?  Yes ... vely vely expensive.  But only 1/3 of my monthly check, regardless of how high (or low) the rent is.  That can't be right.  150 150 150 150 ... that's 600.00, right?  So it's more like 1/4 and a tich more.  And they raised my food stamps too, so I think I should do just fine.  It's been told to me several times that I'll get more money in California, but I really doubt it, since my check is FEDERAL and not state based.  I actually have no idea.  I guess it does make sense that my check would go up based on the cost of living ... hmmm.  I spose should that be true, I could make it another reason to move, eh? 

The first thing everybody else thinks of is the cost of living, when that was/is literally the last thing I ever think about. 

*

Just Call Me Could Care Less About Money

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The Dream

The consensus is "Have a place to stay first before moving to a huge city of 3/4 million people within a 7 x 7 square mile radius? 

But whhhhyyyyyy? 

Okay fine, I understand being homeless in San Francisco would be alot alot alot different than in Idaho.  Even tho the homeless circuit doesn't scare me, since I used to steer clients thru the system way back when. 

The assumption made by a couple of you was that I'd have a place to stay because of SanFranMan. 

The thing is ... I was considering NOT telling him I was leaving for San Francisco exactly because of the assumption that he would put me up.  I know he would, but it would put him in a very difficult spot.  His roomate hates me.  Or is it my dogs?  Not quite sure.  I think I'm a threat to her too, if I move down there, she may think she will lose her renter.  She is the landlord, he rents from her.  He would have a holy cow if he knew I was down there in some homeless shelter (I was thinking more like sleeping in the park ...  I JOKE!) and would not sleep, feeling obligated to take care of me.  I could take advantage, I know I could .. and I HATE the thought of doing that. 

If it weren't for the dogs, I honestly think I'd be down there right now.  There's no way I can go anywhere with 3 dogs, tho.  If I do get housing, I am allowed to HAVE 3 dogs, but to go down there with the 3 prior to having housing, and expect SFM to house us all?  Not what a good friend would do to another.  Not even if he does love them. 

Homeless shelters don't take dogs.  I did think of leaving the little ones here somehow, maybe even my son could take them for awhile, but I would take Duke, simply because I'd be safer with a big guy like him.  Even tho he is the biggest CHICKEN in the world.  If I drop a spoon, he jumps sky-high.  Remind me to tell you about what happened when he stepped on some bubble-wrap.  Hysterical. 

I commented on several comments - might want to check on those. 

Just Call Me Undecided

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If you're there, it will come. Or is it It will come if you are there?

This morning, as I was walking around the courtyard (Duke freed me from the tennis ball hell thing), I came across this little 'thing'.  Oh wait.  First I have to tell you what I was thinking about.  I was thinking about thinking of just going to San Francisco despite not having housing.  In other words, I was thinking about BEGINNING to entertain the idea of...of just up and leaving, be gone, be homeless, get on whatever disability people are supposed to, do it the way I'm supposed to ... as if I were a resident of San Francisco ... and then I came across this little thing.  I have walked this 'path' a million times since last fall.  See it?

It's the heart that used to be on  my key chain.  It fell off sometime last fall.  I bought it in San Francisco when I was there last. 

The thing is ... it wasn't my car keys chain.  It was the key chain that has only one key on it.  The one the lets me back into the building.  My 'house' key ...

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San Francisco.  "Housing".  House key = housing?  Hmmmmm...

You can't see it here, but it has the words "San Francisco" on it. 

Then there's Oprah telling me to put myself back into my life, and take action, take responsibility.  If you live "it", it will come. 

What do you think? 

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Top 10 Walking Cities for 2007

Top 10 Best Fitness-Walking Cities of 2007

1. Madison, WI: Adopted a walker-friendly plan 10 years ago, and it shows.
2. Austin, TX: 50 trails, from a quarter to 10 miles long.
3. San Francisco, CA: The most parks per square mile.
4. Charlotte, NC: 40% of its residents walk for exercise.
5. Seattle, WA: Gorgeous views of Puget Sound and snowcapped mountains.
6. Henderson, NV: With an average yearly rainfall of 4.5 inches, you can walk everyday.
7. San Diego, CA: A unique choice of beach, desert and mountain routes.
8. San Jose, CA: Perfect walking weather; average temp 61 degrees and low humidity.
9. Chandler, AZ: 6.5 miles of traffic-free walking on its Paseo Trail.
10. Virginia Beach, VA: A low crime rate and a boardwalk allow safe, fun strolling.

Technorati Tags: Walking, San Francisco

This should have been posted yesterday

I've been toying with the idea of giving up my home health aide for some time now.  Sometimes, Hella just drives me nuts.  She ALWAYS says something to me after I walk into the next room, or after I turn on the water to brush my teeth, or after I turn on the vacuum cleaner.   Along with 72 other irritants.  Yesterday, as I was outside playing Tennis Ball with the Duke, as I came back in, she poked her head out of the patio door and said she was just chatting with one of the other residents, she'd be right with me.  It was 12:30pm, so she was an hour and a half late at that point.  One of the "official" reasons she is here is because I am not supposed to do dishes.  Because the hot/warm water makes my hands number than usual... (what is number than numb?  Is that even possible?) and I can't feel if there's a knife committing murder on my hands or not.  Yea, whatever.

So in my quest to believe I don't need an aide, I washed dishes.  Except I didn't.  Cause I had to stop.  Why?  Cause.  Just because. 

And the bloody slash is cut across the outside edge of the base of the little finger and palm.  Right in the crease.  So I keep re-opening the wound.  Fine.  Whatever. 

There may be something to that The World is Going to Come to An End Because Daylight Savings Time Came Two Weeks Sooner than Normal.  Cause my computer didn't update it's time on it's own.  But you'll be happy to know that the Atomic clock finally updated itself - after I put it in a different location.  Evidently, the magic rays weren't able to reach it where it used to be.   

So. 

Oh, yes, I woke up to hearing this on the Today Show.   Vely, vely interesting, yes?  Should I add it to my list of Reasons to Move to San Francisco?   I didn't exactly plan to put meeting every single man in San Francisco on my agenda. 

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I feel like shit

Good communication requires using "I feel statements" rather than "You never make me feel happy" or "I always have to clean the toilet and you never help me around the house, and I'm not the one who on it, so what am I gonna get in return".  So I'm gonna go the healthy route.

I feel bored to tears. 

I feel defeated.

I feel hopeless. 

I feel trapped.

I feel forced into lying.  (In order to qualify for housing in San Francisco)

I feel quilty for lying. 

It seems like me and the dogs don't talk anymore either.

So there ya go.  I feel like shit, but at least I'm "healthy".

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Reason #15 - The End of the World is Right Next Door

McShadow:  Muttin is shivering
Ben:  How come
Ben:  Note my concern
McShadow:  Gave her a bath earlier
McShadow:  I noted your concern
McShadow:  I may just have to blog about it, you and your concern. 
Ben:  lol
McShadow:  brb
McShadow:  back
Ben:  Do you know about 2012?
McShadow:  No
Ben:  Google it
McShadow:  Right now?
Ben:  Anytime.  I'm interested in it.  Don't buy alot of it, but its interesting.
McShadow:  Okay
McShadow:  Too worried about Muttin - she needs to be held, and it's hard while typing. 
Ben: In short, the world is coming to an end on 12/21/2012.
McShadow:  Oh yes, I have heard of that.
Ben:  There is quite alot of documentation and scientific research going on and like 30 different scenarios.
McShadow:  Why didn't it end on 07/07/07?
Ben:  Because the Mayan calendar, the most accurate of all, ends on 12/21/2012.
McShadow:  Oh
Ben:  I'm reading a book about it, kind of hilarious the way the guy writes.
Ben:  Actually, the most believable scenario is the mega volcano in Yellowstone park will blow up and create nuclear winter.
McShadow:  Oh great.  Yellowstone is right next door to me. 
McShadow:  That's gonna be Reason #15 for moving to San Francisco.
Ben:  Then there is the energy cloud that the solar system will pass through and destroy all life as we know it.
Ben:  And the asteroids approaching.
Ben:  And the sun frying us
Ben:  Etc, ad nauseum, ad infinitum.
Ben:  Anyway, I'm off to bed baby. Got a poker tournament in the AM.
Ben:  I hope your rat dog is ok.  (Note the concern and worry)
McShadow:  So noted.  Smart ass.

Little girl was really seriously cold.  She's not a cuddle type, nor does she like blankets or anything touching her when she sleeps.  So it was a bit worrisome that she sat there willingly, all covered up.  Then again when we went to bed...

... she slept under the the Sea World blanket all nite. 

Little adorable. 

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Reason #14 - Dog Facilities

Looking for dog kennels the other day brought me to ... Reason #14 for Moving to San Francisco.  Boarding kennels here in Idaho.  Five pages.  Compared to boarding kennels there.  I quit counting after 31 pages for San Francisco.  Doggie sitters, walkers, and even doggie camps!   

Me:  So when we move to San Francisco, and SFM gets his wild hairs about whisking me off to far-off destinations, and you guys need boarding, we're all set.  There's 284 choices.  I could find someone who would come to the house, or even stay at the house, or send you to doggie camp!

Jeffrey:  Doggie camp?  I'm all about doggie camp!  I'm all over it! I'm there!  Let's go!  Yippee skippee!

Muttin:  Doggie camp?  Eww.  I am NOT gonna go potty in an outhouse. 

Me:  Oh Dog.  Get over yourself. 

Muttin:  Brat.

Me:  I know you are but what am I?

Muttin:  Meanie.

Me:  I know you are but what am I?

Muttin:  Stop it. 

Me:  I know you are but what am I? 

Methinks someone is showing their immaturity...

.

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Wisdom on The View

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On 'The View' today, Rosie mentioned that Seattle has a very high suicide rate because it rains so much and it's gloomy, foggy, most of the time.  Joy said "Why commit suicide?  Move to California". 

No shit. 

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Serenity serenity, wherefore art thou?

I went "out" today.  To Curves!  Can I quit writing now?  Okay, inside joke.  You'd have to read this post to understand. 

Theresa of Paper Rock Scissors described what I want for myself by going to a Yoga Class.  I don't think Idaho has ever heard of Yoga.  There's one on every corner in San Francisco. 

I'm in a bit of a depressed funk because of SanFranMan.  He made a serious mistake this morning in his email to me.  I don't remember the words exactly but it was something to the effect ... reading one of my  conversations with the dogs (complete with pictures) was a bit... tedious???

Sniff.

For some reason, I just now remembered that I promised him if I ever wrote about him, I'd let him read it first.  Ooops on the K-Y Jelly post.  Well, because of his email?  Paybacks a bitch. 

I'm all over the place today. 

As I was walking down my hallway, keeping my hand on the wall to be steady, as I was somewhat MS'y after my workout at Curves, I thought I don't think about MS hardly anymore.  The only time I really do is when I'm blogging, when I pee my pants, and when I take my meds. 

Blogging:  Damn the title of the blog, what can I come up with today?

Peeing pants:  Damn this.  Now I have to take a shower, and find something else to wear cause I haven't done laundry, and I hate doing laundry. 

Taking meds:  This I do almost by rote when and if I remember to take them.  It helps that I'm taking them only twice a day, instead of every four hours.  I guess because of the pain, I can't really say I don't think about MS anymore.  I'll amend it - I don't think about MS 24/7 like I used to.  Someone told me, when I was squirming about going on Disability, that I would have to make my health become my 8 to 5 job.  At the time, the thought of doing that was beyond my comprehension, because I could barely walk with a can or a walker and the pain was taking over.  But it's true - by walking the dogs 42 times a day, going to Curves and doing Pilate's and yoga at home... I'm taking care of my health pretty much 8 -5.  And it shows.  I've lost a total of 58 pounds last year, and kept it off.  Keeping it off is the challenge, and it's fairly easy for me.  I've got another 20 pounds to lose and then my weight will not be an issue anymore.  It goes up around 7 pounds each month with my period and fun times like Reno  and San Diego, but that's okay, because it's fairly easy to lose it again.  I don't come unglued about it. 

I feel another rant coming on.  Who the hell came up with calling it a "period?"  Another insider story - new readers would have to read the "Secrets I Should Keep" category.  Did I already rant about this? 

Seriously now, about Theresa's post.  I've been to yoga classes and remember the serenity.  I want that back.  During my recent massage, there was soothing music and aroma therapy going on.  I could feel my body relax so easily.  In fact, the masseuse told me that he didn't feel any knots or tightness anywhere.  Between me not being able to feel some parts of it (I couldn't tell what he was doing to my feet or hands) and him saying I was very relaxed - kinda makes a $90 massage a bit too expensive.  But as SFM said, now I've tackled an issue that was troublesome (because of the abuse, the thought of having a massage made me squiggy)   When I went back to my room SFM had set $50 in my drawer cause he wanted to help pay for it.  So, really it was a fantastic $40 massage! 

I want serenity back.  There is none in Idaho.

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San Francisco no more?

A momentous occasion just arose.  San Francisco Housing just called.  A REAL person was on the line.  I had had a letter that said I was taken off the housing list.  She said I was still on it??? and then asked if I was a San Francisco resident.  I am not.  Which I've said all along.  I told her my California ID has a San Diego address on it, so I was a California resident.  She said I had to be a San Francisco resident.  I practically screamed and said I was TOLD  that I had to be a California resident.  She said no, I have to be a San Francisco resident.  I said Fuck. 

Not really.  I didn't say it. 

Then she said my income needed to be from San Francisco too.  I said it was disability.  She said San Francisco SSI?  No, not state, it's federal.  She said it has to be addressed to San Francisco.  As have a bank account or an address that it goes to. 

So basically... I need to move down there... and be homeless in order to qualify. 

At least I didn't come up on top of the list, and fly down there for my next appointment, to be told this, and waste another airfare for nothing.

I'm trying not to depend on SFM, just because I want to do this on my own as much as possible.  And it's not fair to him, and his kids are a priority, and their situation takes up most of his mind, and I'm just independent as much as possible. 

So shit.  I need to go back down there, get a bank account and have my check deposited there.  Or use SanFranMan's address, which he's already said was okay.  Mailed checks take longer to get, and then there'd be the time lag where he mailed it to me. 

Shitshitshit.  I want to CRY and SCREAM. 

. 

Up and at'm

I am not having my normal introspective musings that I normally do on New Year's Eve.  When I look back on 2006, I see nothing.  It was a bad year for 2 loved ones of mine.  I didn't move.  A few days ago, feeling discouraged about not moving, I thought maybe I shouldn't move after all. 

A horrible feeling came over me - one of no hope.  If I stay here, I will be and do nothing.  Much like my last year.  A good deal of it stems from the fact that there is nothing to do here.  There is no bicycle or walking club.  There's several bars, but I don't do bars.  I'm not sure what I want as far as a relationship goes, but it for sure ain't gonna happen here.  I want friends - people with the same interests as I have.  All there is - is playing cards with old ladies.  It feels like the end of the line here. 

As if I needed more reasons to move to San Francisco.  And where else can you celebrate this great day? 

There will be so much more things to do. 

So what do I get in the mail just now?  A letter from San Francisco Housing Authority, saying they've taken me off the damn list.  When I was down there in real live person, I had to stand in line 3 times in order to fill out a form saying I wanted an appointment.  They said they'd send the appointment time in a letter.  Again. 

So Tuesday, I'm getting back on the horse and trying again.  To move.  Cause I will rot here. 

Blahg This:  Are you making any New Year's Resolutions?  Any insights, lessons learned in the past year? 

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It's a SIGN

While digging thru a Christmas box long stored away, I found this pillow, hats and mug.  Oh, and there were curtains too.  At one time, my son was an avid 49er fan when he was little, and I had decorated his room with red and gold, including painting his dressers red and gold. 

Seems an omen, don't you think? 

Also... there's still a chance the 49er's will play in the Super Bowl. 

Speaking of SonOne, look at quilt in progress.  I can't ever make anything simple.  I decided to add more stitching/applique to the seams, which is very time-consuming.  And thread consuming, as it turns out.  Terrible to run out of thread at the same time you've run out of money.  It's okay as I'm about to tear my hair out cause I/my foot can't feel the damn ... peddle thingy that makes the sewing machine run.  I don't know if he's coming home for Christmas or not, so I can take a break.  To save my hair. 

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At least on paper...

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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. 

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California ID... Done

As previously mentioned, I did get a California ID.  After stressing about whether they'd take my Idaho ID away from me, cause it seemed to me one isn't allowed to hold multiple state ID's, and being prepared to fight to the death to keep it, cause HELLO, I had to fly home and airlines require picture ID's... it was a moot point. 

They did ask to see my shiny new certified birth certificate, which I proudly showed them.  Fine, dandy.  Then he noted that the last name didn't match because the application had my married name (ex, but still use it).  Very clever of him.  So then he asked for my marriage license to show that I had a right to use the name.  I flipped thru my notebook, sure of having it.  Couldn't find it.  COULDN'T find it.  My stomach thudded to the floor... not another plane ticket wasted because I don't have the right paperwork?  Finally, I found it.  Whew.  Then there was confusion cause my shiny new Idaho ID had my hypenated maiden name/married name. 

This is difficult without using my real name. 

Certified Birth Certificate..... Susie Q Qutie

Name I Use.....                           Susie Q McShadow

Application for DMV.....             Susie Q McShadow

Idaho ID.....                               Susie Q Qutie/McShadow

(why the HELL I added my maiden name to my Idaho ID I'll never know, as it has been my policy not to use it as it's my father's last name, and he is a child molester, but hey.  Maybe Im healing.  Whatever). 

So when I sign things, I usually sign them Susie Q McShadow, knowing that the Q can represent either my middle name or maiden name. 

This is all ridiculous.  What ended up happening is that I had to say yes, I do use other names as alias's, and be done with it.  On a pleasant note, he said I'd have the hard copy in about 2 weeks - which is alot better then the internet telling me it'd be 6 weeks. 

When I went to the airport to fly home again, I had zero memory of my flight time, etc.  Also zero memory of the fact that I had all the information in my palm pilot.  I DID remember exactly where I left the paper I had all the info typed on... on Ben's bookcase.  The lady checking me in was not happy when she couldn't find my flight.  Something to do with the fact that I told her Susie McShadow, and I had again, for some crazy reason, bought the ticket with Susie Qutie/McShadow.  Altho, in my defense, she was looking at my Idaho ID, which had the name right, so she should have gone by that, and not by what I said.  Dumb bitch.  She was mean to me.  She absolutely was not going to suggest what I should do when a passenger thinks she's supposed to be flying that day, since she could not find my name anywhere, except to say I must be mistaken and flying on another day.  After about a half hour, it was I who asked if the tag on my luggage would have any info that would help her.  Why yes indeed it would.  It would have my confirmation number.  Dumber bitch. 

Then I got in the plane and envied the one parked next to me. 

The plane I was in didn't have a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge on it.  It's a little worrisome that there seems to be a hand flipping the bird too, tho.  It's a cactus, people! 

Ben called to see how I was and had the audactity to suggest it was the Rice Crispy Treats that made me sick.  I think not.  It was the egg noodles I made on ... Friday afternoon.   He should be ashamed of even suggesting it was my beloved Rice Crispy Treats.  And here I was gonna write a nice post about him.  Hmmphh.

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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.

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Home again home again

I am home from San Diego.  Had a great time with Ben, got a California ID, did not get an appointment with the housing people. 

Lots of pictures, more about Ben, but I'm exhausted and going to bed.  The dogs are all ga ga over me, and Jeffrey in particular is glued to my side. 

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Shadow here, blogging to you from San Diego

First thing - don't believe Ben should he happen to tell you that I've had 21 Rice Krispy Treats in the last 2 days.  It isn't true. 

Lessons learned:

1.  Always carry your camera.  During dinner last nite, we ate at Benihana, a hibachi grill place, where you are seated at a table for 8.  In front of you is a huge grill, and the chef cooks all eight meals in front of us.  As he was making the fried rice, what shape do you think he formed the pile of cooking rice?  Uh huh.  A heart.  And me with no camera.

Today we went to Sea World, and had a great day.  Got soaking wet in a couple of the rides, and a fun time was held by all.  Ben's 12 year old daughter and her friend were with us.  Took tons of pictures but Ben's computer picture thingy is broken, so I won't be able to post any until I get home. We saw whales, dolphins, sharks, turtles, sea lions, palm trees, and logs, up close and personal.  I know everytime I took a picture, Ben was thinking "what the hell?".  He didn't see what I saw in one particular log I took a picture of. 

I'm exhausted from all the EATING I've been doing.  I've had more junk food in the last 2 days than I've had in the last 2 years.  No clue why I must be thinking these are my last days on earth. 

We walked 4.86 miles today, and that was with me being held back by the 3 other slow-pokes. 

Update:  Monday morning.

We're off to get my California ID... where another roadblock occurred to me.  It's not "legal" to have more than one state ID/driver's license, so they will probably want to take my Idaho ID away from me.  But I need it to fly back home...

Should be interesting. 

Then we're headed for San Jose, for the night, then we'll be in San Francisco in the morning.  No computer access until Tuesday nite, so you won't know whether the ID OR the Housing Authority fiasco was a success!  Oh the suspense, oh the drama!

TC, I don't have your work email address, so I can't tell you privately that I fixed your comments into a post, did some slight editing for clarity, did alot of spell-checking, ahem, and if you'd like to change the titles of the posts, you go right ahead. 

What is of upmost concern to me at the moment is how you think the dogs are talking to you?  Are you feeling okay, dear?  I'm worried about you.  Such imagination!  But really.  People might think you're crazy, so you might want to tone those conversations with the dogs down a bit, hmm?

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Welcome to California, Laurie

I called the Californai Department of Motor Vehicles this morning. 

Ring, ring, ring.

DMV voice mail.  Press 1 for English. Press 1 - 17 for this, that, and the other thing.  If, after listening to all 17 choices you still have questions, please press 0 for an operater.  Please do not press 0 unless you have listened to all 17 choices. 

0.

DMV:  DMV, can I help you? 

Me:  Hello, I just wanted to make sure that when I FLY down there to get my California ID, that I have all the correct documents.

Silence:

Me:  Hello?

CA DMV Lady:  Yes, go on.

Me:  Because last time I FLEW down there with ...

A voice talking but it sounded far away...

Me:  I'm sorry, what did you say?

CA DMV Lady:  I didn't say anything, ma'am.

Me:  Oh, I heard someone talking. 

Silence:

Me:  I flew down there a couple of months ago to get a CA ID, but couldn't because it wasn't a state certified copy from the state of my birth.

Silence:

Me:  So I just wanted to make sure when.... hello?

CA DMV Lady:  yes, go on, you wanted to make sure what (in a very tight, clipped voice you dumb moron voice)

Me:  That the certified copy is really ALL I need to get my ID, so I don't waste another plane ticket.

CA DMV Lady:  Yes, that's what you need, plus a current ID from the state where you are at now. 

Me:  Okay thanks.  Just to let you know, the website doesn't say "Certified Copy"...

CA DMV Bitch:  Yes, it does.  You wouldn't expect us to accept a photo copy or a copy machine copy of your birth certificate, would you?

Me:  Umm no.  I didn't have a copy.  I had my original birth certificate with the foot prints on it.  The website - all it says is "birth certificate". 

Silence:

Me:  Also, just now listening to all the options when calling, it says the price of an ID is $26.00.  On the website it says it's $21.00. 

Me:  Hello? 

Me:  Hello? 

.

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I wonder at what point she hung up at me?

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12th call to the San Francisco Housing Authority:

Ring ring ring

SFHA Voice Mail:  You have reached the San Francisco Housing Authority.  Blah blah blah.  If you would like to apply for housing, drop by the office at 440 Turk Street between the hours of 8:30am to 5pm.  If you know the extension of your intake worker, please dial it now.  If you need to reschedule your intake appointment, leave your name, number, and social security number.  We check these messages periodically.  Thank you and have a good day.

Me:  Hi, this is Laurie McShadow, my number is 1-F R U - S T R - A T E D.  My social is CLL - ME - BACK.  I haven't received a response from my last message left that I needed to reschedule my intake appointment.  I am flying down there and will be in your office on Tuesday, December 5th.  I will happily drop in at 440 Turk Street and wait as long as I have to.  I'm looking forward to talking to a real person.   Thank you very much. 

Gee.  Can't wait to move. 

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Love that magazine

Ahem. 

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Reason #13 - Client Programs

Reason #13 for Moving to San Francisco:

Look at what the Idaho's National Multiple Sclerosis Society has to offer for client programs.  To participate in the exercise program, you have to go to Boise.  Five hours from here. 

And then there's the San Francisco chapter... click on Client Programs.   It's like a linky orgy!

Need I say more?  Okay fine, I WILL.  Just call me Broken Record.

On that note, I'll be gone for a couple/three days, just road-tripping to my hearts content,  stopping when and where the urge... urges.  ? 

There's a lap-top involved but don't know if I'll be using it much cause it's got that new-fangled wireless shit, and it freaks me out cause it doesn't seem natural. 

That is all. 

Oh no it's not.  I forgot the reason why I was looking up more info on MS, which lead me to the above information. 

I always knew I was allergic to sweat.  That was my funny haha whenever it was suggested that I exercise.  These last few days, in not knowing how much to wear for the weather, I've sweated during my walks.  Ick.  And then when I get home, it itches.  Of course, I think to take a shower.  For 4 days now, this has been a problem.  Yesterday, during winds of at least 50 miles per hour, I had to wear a scarf to keep the wind from blasting down my neck.  It got sweaty.  Then my neck itched.  I am ALLERGIC to sweating and I LOVE it when I'm right.  But being right doesn't help much with the itching.  I remembered itching can be a symptom of MS. 

Once again, I posed the question to a MS forum and several people responded back.  So did the retired doctor, who again said it has something to do with my temperature gauge, and it's no coincidence that it only affects the areas where I'm wearing more than one piece of clothing. 

Walking is beginning to be a project.  More later. 

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Timing is everything

I can't get into housing in San Francisco until I have a California picture ID.  Which required a fucking CERTIFIED copy from the state of my birth.  THEN I can apply for the CA ID.  THEN it can take up to 60 days to get the ID/license in the mail. 

I'm going to San Diego to see a friend who willl help get my CA ID on December 2nd.  And maybe see Sea World and Disneyland, and Knott's Berry Farm, and LegoLand, and the San Diego Zoo, and whale watching.  Then I was going to sit back and wait for the Housing Authority to contact me.  I figured they put me back on the bottom of the list, which took 7 months for me to come to the top last time.  I was going to spend another hateful winter here, and my only solace was thinking that since my mother just moved back here, it was a good thing to stay a few months because of her.  Even tho she decided to move here AFTER I announced via blog that I was moving to San Francisco... 

Where was I? 

Oh yes. 

Resigned I was, to my fate of waiting till Spring. 

Guess who contacted me by mail?  Saying my appointment is Tuesday, November 14, 2006.  Five days away. 

Gahhhhhhhhhhh. 

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One step closer

Next?  Fly to California to get my California ID.  Then?  Wait for San Francisco Housing Authority to call.  And I'll be ready to find my new home!

I feel sick to my stomach.

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(That's a good sick to my stomach)

PSA:  Get out and VOTE ! 

Oh, and the check?  Is Idaho refunding me the $18.00 when I sent for the birth certificate from the wrong state.  They both came on the same day. 

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It kind of freaked me out that it says "Live Birth". 

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Am I really done?  I'm so excited!

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49 Square Miles

Me:  Dogs, come here, we need to talk.

Jeffrey:  Be right there!

Muttin:  Oh dog. 

Me:  Oh god yourself.  We're going to have a talk and you are going to stop being such a snot.

Muttin:  Yes Ma'am!

Jeffrey:  (big sigh)

Me:  Remember the beach?  How'd you like it? 

Muttin/Jeff:  Loved it!  Great!  The best!  Awesome! 

Me:  Now you both know I've been packing up boxes, right?

Jeffrey:  Yes, half the books are gone.  And oh, I noticed the Fall decorations are up, they look great.  You really make the place feel warm and cozy.

Muttin:  (rolls her eyes)

Me:  (frown at her sternly to let her know she's not going to side-track the conversation)

Me:  And you've also been reading the blog these last few days, so you know I've been talking about moving to San Francisco, right?

Jeffrey:  Yes?....

Me:  Well, we're going to move to San Francisco. 

Jeffrey:  Now!!!  Great!!!  When do we leave?!!!

Me:  (smiling gently at him, he's such a sweetie)  I take it that means you'll be glad about moving? 

Jeffrey:  (jumps off the couch and does his happy dance around the coffee table, then jumps back up and gives me a quick peck on the elbow).

Me:  And you, Muttin, what do you think? 

Muttin:  When? 

Me:  Well, alot of things have to fall into place before it happens. 

Muttin:  Like what?

Me:  My birth certificate has to come from Washington, and that takes 6 weeks.  Then I have to fly to California again, to get my California ID.  That can take another 6 weeks to get in the mail.  Because the San Francisco Housing Authority needs that before I can get public housing.  It's all a matter of timing.  If they call cause I'm at the top of the list again, but don't have the California ID, I'll have to start all over again. 

Muttin:  So when?

Me:  I'm thinking Spring. 

Muttin:  So we have to spend another winter here?  I hate winter.

Me:  (surprised)  I didn't know that.  Are you getting persnickety in your old age?  The cold getting to your old bones?  (snicker, snicker)

Muttin:  Careful.  I'm in no mood.

Jeffrey:  Oh, you're never not in a mood!  Ha ha ha ha! 

Me:  No, seriously, Muttin, what is it you hate about winter?  Because I care.  If our walks are too cold for you, we can start walking the halls in the building instead. 

Jeffrey:  I know!  How about getting us one of those coats that they make for dogs, huh huh huh?!!  And maybe some little boots too, for our feet!!!

Me:  Jeffrey, settle down, you goofy dog!  You're making me tired.  Sure, I could get you some doggie coats.  In fact, I think I have one already, but I just figured you wouldn't want to wear one, cause some say you're already a sissy, and wearing a coat won't help change that impression.

Muttin:  He IS a sissy, so wearing a coat would be just right.  For him. 

Me:  Let me guess... but not for you, right?

Muttin:  Oh HELL no. 

Me:  Are you sure?  I could get you a pink one with fur lining the neck, and glitter, spelling "Princess", and heck I could even find a cute little bonnet for your ears - seems like your ears would be pretty cold.  And stop swearing.

Muttin:  Fur lining?  That does sound comfy. 

Me:  And warm.  But you haven't told me why you don't like winter. 

Muttin:  You try peeing like a girl, when the snow is more than 6 inches deep.  Jeff's got it easy, what with just lifting a leg. 

Me:  (laughing)  Yes, I've noticed it must be a bitch having your girl bits so close to the snow.  I've felt bad for you many a time.

Muttin:  Tell me about it. 

Me:  And then, while you're peeing, the pee heats up the snow underneath you, and the next thing you know, you're sinking even closer to the snow.  You poor thing.

Muttin:  Uhh.  Yea.  Glad you noticed.  You nosy freak.

Me:  Not nosy.   Thanks to the damn landlady, I have to be very involved with your elimination habits.  I don't pick up your poopies cause I LIKE to, missy. 

Muttin:  (evil, triumphant laugh)  I LIKE that you have to pick them up. 

Me:  I’m sure you do.

Jeffrey:  We appreciate it, we really do.  It makes the yard so much nicer.  It’s too bad our neighbor doesn’t feel the same way.  Did you know there’s 12 poops from Maggie over in the corner?  Are you gonna pick them up and put them in a garbage sack and hang it on their door knob again? 

Me:  I could do.  It seemed to help for a little while last time.  But it’s not a good way to make friends tho.  She’s got that whole hallway thinking I’m a Bitch From Hell already.

Jeffrey:  Well, we know better.  We know who the bitch really is around here…

Me:  (laughing)  Good one, Jeffrey!  (as I glance at Muttin, who seems to be ignoring us)

Muttin:  So are we going to live in the ghettos down there?  I’ve heard bad things about public housing.  Specially in a big city.

Me:  Well, we certainly could end up in a ghetto I spose.  I don’t really think that would be a bad thing – it’d be interesting, wouldn’t it?

Jeffrey:  (worriedly)  Ghetto?  What’s this about a ghetto?  Aren’t there guns in the ghetto? 

Muttin:  Yes, you chicken shit, that’s why I asked.

Me:  Muttin, stop calling names.  Well, the ghetto is a possibility, but we’ll just have to see.  We drove thru one of the areas, and it wasn’t bad at all.  There’s some place out on an island too, where there used to be housing for the military.  We’ll just have to see, and I’ll do my best to find somewhere safe. 

Me:  See those houses towards the top of the picture?  Those are a possibility.  Not so bad, right? 

Muttin:  Will there be grass?  I don’t see how there’d be any grass in a 49 square mile area with three quarters of a million people living there.  Sounds like a concrete jungle, if you ask me.

Me:  Yes, we’ll be walking everywhere.  And riding the bus.  That’s why I’m teaching you to get the phone for me.  So you’ll be considered a service dog, and can ride the bus.  Otherwise, we’ll have to walk EVERYWHERE.  So I suggest you complying with the training already, and get over your attitude.

Muttin:  Okay, I’ll do better.  The bus sounds kind of fun. 

Me:  (surprised)  Good girl!  You can be the Head Service Dog, and Jeffrey will be in training.  You’ll both be able to wear a vest that way, and people will be very impressed with you. 

Muttin:  Yea, yea, yea.  Whatever.

Jeffrey:  Why can’t I be the Head Service Dog, huh? 

Me:  Maybe you can take turns…

Muttin:  No way.  I’m Head Service Dog, or I won’t go.  That’s final. 

Jeffrey:  Okay fine!  Jeez. 

Me:  How did you know about three quarters of a million people?  And the 49 square miles? 

Muttin:  I googled it the other day when I was reading the blog.  I was worried about all that concrete being hard on my feet.  Oh, and by the way?  How come nobody ever comments about how pretty my pictures are?  Those readers of yours don't seem to appreciate the dog pictures. 

Jeffrey:  Yea, I noticed that too.  And the Jeff Gordon pictures every week - not a word.  I think that's rude.  You work so hard on taking those pictures and I'd like to see a bit more love for our Nascar guy. 

Me:  Me too, believe me, Jeffrey. 

Me: Muttin, the walking on sidewalks will help keep your toenails down, and I may not have to cut them anymore. 

Muttin:  There's that.  Definitely a plus. 

Me:  So are we all on the same page about moving then?  It's a good idea?  I haven't even mentioned all the reasons it'd be good...

Muttin:  (interrupting)  Yea, yea, yea, we read the blog - the 12 Reasons to Move to San Francisco.  You and your damn health problems. 

Me:  Muttin, that's not quite the proper attitude for a service dog.  You're going to embarrass me, aren't you?

Muttin:  Who, me?  (Points to Jeffrey)  He's the embarrassing one, what with having to pee on every tree, shrub, and fire hydrant. 

Jeffrey:  Hey, I do that for US.  Once I pee on it, it's OURS.  We're RICH!  San Francisco with be OURS. 

Me:  Well, first things first.  I'll take you guys to PetSmart and you can pee on a couple of coats and they'll be YOURS! 

Jeffrey:  It's a plan.

Muttin:  Can I have pink booties, too? 

Me:  Anything to keep you happy.  You're damn near pliable today.  It's refreshing.

Muttin:  Whatever. 

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And so it begins

One of the seniors, who is just movng in, is giving me her boxes as she unpacks them. 

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Pain, pain therefore art you

Eww. 

Am I really such a creature of suggestability?  Just cause it snowed, I didn't want to get up?  Didn't want to get dressed?  Can feel the restriction in the chest that makes it hard to breathe?  Want to swallow the whole bottle of pills?  All five of them? 

The lack of sun accompanied by the sudden and swift depression made me doubt San Francisco for the first time.  I've been tracking their temperatures.... maybe I better track their sunny days too. 

And the pain is back now that the steroids are done. 

My phone is back on tho, thanks to SanFranMan.  It had been turned off cause I was stupid and forgot to change my plan when they quit doing the free long distance 24/7.  So my last bill was about $50.00 more than usual cause I went over the minutes.  But when SanFranMan paid it... it was only $38.00 - there was some sort of reimbursement from the state.  Which is nice, but irritating that I didn't know, because I didn't have a phone for about a week and it drove other people crazy.  I could have paid the $38.00 myself, had I known.  This government - just keeps on giving me money for having MS.  I'm so lucky.  Yea. 

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Reason #12 - Happy Cows Are From California

It's where the happy cows are. 

These are my kind of cows.   

This is me.  Seeking San Francisco.  The snow is Idaho. 

When my aide was coming at 11am, I always woke up between 7 and 8am, without an alarm, and went walking.  Now she's coming at 9am, which is what I wanted, so I could get her in and out of the way for the rest of my day.  For some reason, I've been hitting the snooze until 8:59am.  Cause I'm contrary that way. 

This sorta happened to me once.  Only it was at the mall, and I called for "Peaaa nut", which was my nickname for my son.  Someone thought I called "Peee nis".  And he heard it, and was old enough to be embarrassed.  Needless to say, I quit calling him Peanut.  Okay, so it wasn't the same thing as the happy cows, but it was a cute story and I had to get it in here.  "Say cheese" reminded me of it.  Cheeeeee se = peeeeeee nis.  Cheeee = peeeeee.  See.  Just in case my son is reading, I'm sure he's old enough now to appreciate the funny and cute factor. 

This offends me somewhat.  Chicken has been a staple in my weight loss.  Hmmph. 

I did this once.  Only it was a tetherball.  Which is absolutely ridiculous, because by the very nature of tetherball, you can't throw it very far at all.  What I'm saying is that I was the 4th Grade Tetherball Champion at one time.  Back when I was in 4th grade.  Ba da da dum. 

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Sign sign everywhere a sign, blocking out the scenery, breaking my mind. Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?

What is with these long titles? 

I believe in 'signs'.  I see aura's around people.  That ability seems to ebb and flow with the pain levels.  Extreme pain = aura's everyone.  Little pain = not so much.  Unless there's something negative/wrong with the person, such as... hmmmmm.  I guess the best way to say it is that I do see negative aura's around some (rarely, really) people and it tells me to avoid.  Since I'm long past the illness that causes one to believe you can change someone into someone you want them to be, this ability comes in handy and saves me alot of time. 

It's kinda of like the time when I was dating alot.  There was one guy whom Jeffrey did NOT like.  I had put a baby gate on my front door to get some fresh air in the house.  When Brad knocked on my door, Jeffrey greeted him with a very intense growl.  I was shocked at his behavior, as he'd never done that before.  Brad stepped over the baby gate, and I actually had to put Jeffrey outside in his own yard, so that Brad and I could talk without the fear of him getting bit.  It was that bad.  Long story short  - I now know to pay attention should Jeffrey ever do that again, and Brad's name has been updated to BadBrad. 

So I believe in 'signs'.  But even tho I do believe in them, it still surprises me when they happen.  Today I've had so many San Francisco crossings, it makes me wonder what the heck is up.  I mean... I KNOW I'm moving, it's just a matter of time.  So that decision is not even up for discussion.  But the abundance of said signs makes me start to wonder and second-guess myself. 

• Today I started a new book 'A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius'.  And discovered the author, Dave Eggers, lives in San Francisco and writes about it. 
• When I googled  the above book so I could link it, it told me that people who bought that book also purchased 'A Strange Paradise'.  It's a true story about the author investigating her own near murder... in San Francisco. 
• Today Bravo (TV) started re-airing the show 'Top Chef'.  Which is filmed in San Francisco.
• When I turned on the TV this morning, the show that jumped onto the screen was 'Charmed'.  Again, filmed in San Francisco. 
• I tune out the commercials.  Cept one for 'GM 10,000 Warranty' and 'Rice-a-Roni, the San Francisco treat' aired during the Law & Order, right after the other.  Both filmed in San Francisco. 
• I clicked on one of the Google ads on the sidebar of my blog cause it said 'Bookcrossing.com'.  (Which by the way, if my readers would click on the ads like hint hint hint daily, I would get paid for it, hint hint hint and it would help fund my move hint hint hint)  The click led to the  www.SFGate.com website, with an article written in the San Francisco Chronicle, about a man who started www.1000journals.com, and he lives in San Francisco.  The article listed more sites that are based in San Francisco.  Check out www.wheresgeorge.com , www.phototag.org , www.mirrorproject.com and www.bookcrossing.com . 

My fingers now type San Francisco without thinking.  Which is admirable because spelling it has been a challenge because it's not spelled correctly in my humble opinion.  It should be San Fran sis co.

• And last, I was did a search for ' food bloggers', looking for something new and different.  'Blogger of the Week #56' popped up.  Guess what?  The author lives in San Francisco.

So what's the message?  Any opinions?  Cause it kind of spooks me.  This isn't the first time I've had days like this either. 

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Reason #11 - Medical Research/Drug Trials

After two days of somewhat controllable pain, yesterday was the mother of no control whatsoever.  By 2pm, I was completely worn out from the pain in my feet and hands.  I was either pacing or holding still.  It was even too much to eat anything, cause that would have required using my hands.  Either the pain or the steroids are making me nauseous.  Can't remember if that's one of the symptoms.  My thinking is broken. 

Holding a book hurts.  Turning a page is horrendous.  Well, impossible. 

Touching the dogs hurt.

Putting on clothes hurts.  The sheets hurt. 

The temperature of the air hurts.  It's never right when the pain is visiting. 

The skin surface of one leg bothers the skin surface of the other leg.  This makes it difficult to sleep comfortably. 

Is it the cold?  The pain came on like gang-busters when the cold came.  When there was 20 - 40 degrees difference between the night and the day for several days in a row. 

The doctor scared me.  He said he was at the end of his knowledge as far as MS and pain was concerned.  He was disgusted that my neurologist doesn't want to have anything to do with treating my pain.  I have a feeling it's because I'm a Medicare patient.  Solving pain requires multiple visits, much tweaking of meds and doses.  Asshole. 

Reason #11 for moving to San Francisco:  Research clinics and real pain clinics, and drug trial opportunities. 

Ahem.  Ask me what happens when my dogs get attacked by another big dog again with me on 'roids'. 

It wasn't pretty. 

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Reason #10 - Medicinal Pot

After 3 nites of not sleeping because of the pain in my feet and hands, I finally gave in and went to the doctor.  I resisted because I went just a couple weeks ago, and got my Lyrica dose upped.  That's the miracle drug that I started last March, and it pretty much made me almost pain-free. 

So the fact that a stronger dose didn't help scared me, cause I knew I was at the maximum dose allowed.  I live in fear of running out of meds that will work. 

After much discussion, we decided to put me on a course of Prednisone, which is a steroid.  Supposedly, I'm going to get mean and bitchy.  My poor aide.  Hella already thinks I'm mean and bitchy.  Hopefully, it's just a flare-up, and the Prednisone will kick it's butt back to the edge of tolerance. 

Ironically, one of the side-effects is insomnia.  Great.  THAT'S why I'm bitchy - no sleep. 

I really, really don't want to take it.  After coming back with the script filled, I did the research on-line.  Came across something that reminded me of the pot I have hidden away for just such purposes.  For pain, people, for pain!  For tonite, I'm gonna get high, and if it helps, cool beans.  If not, then I'll start the damn steroids in the morning. 

It's always a struggle to remember how to use the bong.  And the coordination required to hold bong, light bong, and inhale from the right spout.

Reason #10 for moving to San Francisco: Medicinal pot is legal. 

Decorative, yes?  Think the landlady would notice? 

If I don't post in the next couple days, you'll know I've fallen into the abyss. 

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