Dog is my Co-Pilot

Just a little update for the people

An email I just sent to SFM earlier today:

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

 

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

 

And terrified.

 

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

 

Okay...

 

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

 

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

 

HAHAHA - rut.  No pun intended. 

 

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

 

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

 

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

Sincerely,

in case we die - love you. 

 

Laurie

 

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

I beg to differ. AGAIN, BEN

Last nite he said he was worried about me cause I haven't posted since the aptop post.  Ahem.  Check again, buddy.  So instead of being worried about me, he should know that I now realize that he doesn't read everyday like he always said he did.  Uh huh.  See how you are. 

But yes, I haven't been posting cause it hurts.  That's just how it is. 

Tonite, I had to tell SFM that I can't meet him in Reno with his kids in the next couple of days.  I think that, more than anything, tells you how bad it's been. 

I slept from 2am to 11am this morning.  Someone called and needed a ride into town, so I took her.  Was gone for a couple of hours.  Fell asleep in my chair when I got back from about 2pm to 5:30ish, when SFM called to find out if I was coming down or not.  And then I went back to sleep.  I don't know if I am needing the sleep or using it as an escape.  I do know the nite before last, at 2am, I was tossing and turning in bed, not wanting to go to sleep for fear of having to wake up again with the pain all over again.  MS pain is always better in the morning, it's like starting over with a clean slate and as long as I keep up with the meds, MS and I have made our peace.  But the arthritis pain is worse, because ... sleeping makes arthritis worse?  Hell, I don't know.  All I know is that I feel like I've been trampled by a cattle stampede.

Speaking of which, I've been watching the CMT channel, with alot of cowboy movies lately.  "Unforgiven" for one.  So I've been dreaming that I'm the lady of the ranch, and somebody is trying to kill someone, and then I have to take care of the fever-stricken pigs by myself, and then somebody burns down the barn, and the neighbors, who all live in town 20 miles away by horseback come and try to put it out with buckets of water, but of course it's too late.  As everyone knows, a lone woman with fever-stricken pigs and a burned down barn is considered down-and-out, and she has to go be a whore in the local saloon.  That or a hero of some sort is supposed to come save her - the cowboy in the white hat.  I guess it says alot about me that so far, in my dreams, I've yet to be saved by the hero, and there's more fun in the whore business.  Wonder what it all means.  Maybe I should stop watching movies with cattle stampedes?  Maybe I should pay more attention to the chickens that run around loose, peacefully pecking the ground.  Then maybe I'd jump out of bed like a spring chicken, all spry-like.

Tomorrow's goal: get to a doctor.  It finally occurred to me that I don't have to see the "specialist" in town.  I haven't had good luck with "specialists" in this town.  Altho, "they" reccommend seeing specialists when one has MS, because it's a complicated thing figuring out what symptoms belong to which problem, but it's not like there's a choice where I live.  My neurologist quit, and is leaving town.  Another tomorrow's goal:  Get my records from him. 

THe Blogher conference is a month away.  Must. Get. Better.

SFM's daughter called to ask me to Reno, so it was extra hard to say I couldn't go.  After telling him I couldn't, I felt a horrible sense of defeat.  It's winning. 

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PS.

If you keep doing something the same way, it's pretty crazy to think you'll get different results.  Just a special shout-out to someone. 

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Sonoma

Will TypePad actually post my posts??

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

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

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

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

Cross my fingers for this one.

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

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

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Pocono Raceway

Much blog businss to take care of today.  First, the race today is at the Michigan International Speedway, in Brooklyn Michigan.  I've missed the last 2 or 3 races, due to Nascar tricking me and holding the races on Saturday nite, when I am busy with a very busy social life.  Snort. 

This was spose to be last week's picture for the Pocono race.  I started the post and never finished it.  I've been doing alot of that lately.

This is Duke, taken when I was in Spokane a couple weeks ago.  Friend Linda and I had taken Duke and Jeff G to the Spokane River, for a bit of water play.  He loves the water as much as ever, and is so fun to watch. 

 

Throw it.

Seriously.  Throw it.

.

Yes!  She threw it!

I get to chase it into the water finally.

Wonder if she'll throw it if I give it back...

This is the dog we were worried about with little kids.  I guess the secret is water, tennis ball, and adult supervision. 

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I'd bake you a cake but you're too far away

Wishing SanFranMan a Happy Birthday today.  I looked all over for a t-shirt that said "I bought her a laptop, but all I got was this damn t-shirt".  Couldn't find one anywhere. 

It's nice that he's 4 months older than I am - he gets to lead the way into old age.  I can blame him! 

Speaking of SFM, his kids are coming for the summer, for the first long extended visit since they were whisked back east 4 years ago.  He's so ... cute when it comes to his kids - so damn giddy to be seeing them, it's practically impossible to bring him down to earth.  I've said it before and I'll say it again - he's the best father I've ever known, when it comes to loving his kids. 

Happy Birthday, SFM.  I'll bring the laptop to Reno, and we can argue all we want, knowing that we can resolve them all by getting on the Internet. 

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Lowe's Motor Speedway

Remember the Duke?

Today's race is at Charlotte's Lowe's Motor Speedway.  Jeff has struggled all day, running 13th for the moment.

I found this pic from a couple years ago - Duke's in Spokane with SonOne.  I'm going to go babysit him, leaving Tuesday or Wednesday and spend 5-7 days there.  I'm going to try to get a referral to a arthritis specialist in Spokane, as the only one here has a 6 month waiting list.  I've been really depressed this last week cause of the pain, thinking there were new symptoms come to stay, but I think it's more about the "severe" arthritis".  It's been seen in an MRI, in my hips, and the neurologist used the word "severe", but I've not been officially diagnosed. 

I was to babysit my great nephew (2 years old) yesterday, while my sister and niece got perms at the hair shop.  It took a good 10 minutes to gather the courage to get out of bed into the shower that morning, because it hurt so much.  In the shower, it let up a little bit, with the hot water and steam, but that made the MS wake up, and then by the time I left the bedroom, out of the heat, the arthritis set right back in.  What made me finally realize that it's not MS pain, but probably arthritis is the fact that the pain in my hips was also in my shoulders and knees.  Somewhere in my brain a niggling thought arose ... "this is arthritis and it's spreading, cause the shoulders and knees weren't involved last year.  If my remember right .. it was in my hands tho... but my hands are fine cept for the normal MS pain.  So hell.  I don't know what it is. 

Anyways, I can't take much more of this.  I let Ben down by not being able to visit him this trip, and I had to go along with my sister and watch the baby in the hair shop, cause I didn't dare be alone with him.  They got their perms, and I walked about with the baby out in the parking lot, where there was a water fountain, and I let him jump in the puddles.  My mind over matter self told myself that I could move if he was actually in danger, but I really don't know if I can fool myself like that again.  Luckily, the parking lot was empty and there wasn't any reason I would have to save his life, unless a meteorite fell from the sky on him, or he choked on a pebble ... or a stupid teenager came peeling into the parking lot, showing off his wheely skills to his passengers ... or the back-hoe tractor suddenly started all by itself and stalked us... or he fell in the fountain.  There was that.  Hmm.  Oops.

Point is, I let Ben down by deciding not to visit him this trip, and I almost had to tell my sister that I couldn't watch the baby.  I HATE my life being dictated by weather temperature, and how many covers on top of me, or the weather being 80 by day, and 40 by nite.  I'm going to Spokane because it's my son, (and Duke!), and I don't have to put on any manners when the pain is bad.  Pretending I'm okay takes sooo much energy, and SonOne will be gone most of the days, so me and Duke can handle the pain together, and I can be a bitch all I want if need be.  The older I get, the less patience I have for this crap.  I love Ben, and I love to visit San Diego, but he and I have a love-hate relationship when it comes to understanding the subtleties that come with me being me.  (Wasn't that a nice way of putting it?  Ben?)  Plus, it's just too hot in San Diego.  Besides that, I'm still mad at him for something he doesn't even know I'm mad at him for.  Mad at Jacob's doctors indeed. 

Another member of my family bites the dust...

SonOne is at the Indianapolis 500.  Of course, it tickles me that he's at a race, because he normally mocks me for my Nascar passion.  I don't care much for open wheel racing, but just the fact that he was watching race cars go around and around in circle pleases me. 

I must admit to paying just a teeny tad more bit of attention to the open wheel seriers, thanks to Helio Castroneves, who danced in "Dancing with the Stars" last season (and won), and Danio Patrick, a woman driver, who placed 4th in the Indy last year.  Feeling like you "know" a bit about the drivers makes a difference. 

But today?  A text message from SonOne, who said he's sitting in the third row on the backside of the track, said "It's the most amazing thing I've ever seen". 

Snicker. 

I bet he's hooked...

It's a proud, proud moment for da Mama. 

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Hell froze over - Updated

This came in my email tonite:

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

!!!

It's a confirmation for a purchase SanFranMan made: 

And it's being shipped to me!!!

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

To be like everyone else at Blogher 2008 - $1000

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

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

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

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Yea, Typepad. Oops. Maybe not so much.

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

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

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

On getting a haircut tomorrow

Jeff:  Come on Mutt, quit being that way.

Muttin:  ...

Jeff:  She didn't mean it, she just meant that you need a haircut. 

Muttin: ... 

Jeff:  Frankly, I'm surprised you'd be insulted by being called a mangy mutt.  I thought you were tougher than that.

Muttin:  ...

Jeff:  Besides, why won't you talk to me, I didn't call you that!  I think you need to mature up some, don'tcha think?

Muttin:  ...

Jeff:  Cause of you, I'M gonna have to get a haircut too.  Thanks a bunch, sis.  You ARE more shaggy looking than I am ...

Muttin: ...

Jeff:  I'm going out for a drink.  She said she's gonna do the haircuts tomorrow, so I'm headed out for one more nite on the town before she makes me look like a drowned rat.  Hard to catch the ladies looking like that.  Wanna come?

Muttin:  ...

Jeff:  (thinking to himself)  Just once I'd like to win one of her silent treatment gigs.  She can be SUCH a bitch!

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MS Monday

Good thing today is Monday, because I've designated Mondays to be about MS.  I don't remember if I told you that I'd come up with a new plan to help me write everyday, but it's all about the days of the week.  If I write something about MS, men (dating), or moods, it'll be posted on Mondays.  Also, because I still take pictures of hearts, they'll be posted on Memorial Monday, for Jacob.  You get the idea.

I was doing really well on my marathon (something else to post on Monday!) training (no wait, that was going to be on Tuesday Training ...) until I bought new running shoes.  Which gave me blisters, which is almost impossible to prevent when buying new running shoes, and the reason I'm seriously considering buying a second pair of the same kind right now because I think getting blisters threw me into a flare-up.  A #*%$&*^%$ blister!

I think when you have MS, the body over-reacts to injuries.  Hahaha, who am I kidding?  The body over-reacts to anything.  Ever since getting the blisters, my heels have become more and more ... stiff?  Like the tendons are tightening, and walking is excruciating.  I know I've been in pain before and written about it, but this is one of those times when I am not being over dramatic or exaggerating. 

Yesterday, I woke up around 9am, and checked the Internet to find out when the Nascar race was.  Damn.  It was on Saturday and I missed it.  Went back to bed, and was going to call my mother to see if she would pick me up to go to my niece's bridal shower, which was at noon.  I picked up the phone and ... fell back asleep.  Take a wild guess as to what time I woke up again.

5pm. 

Unfreakingbelieveable. 

So I missed the shower, which I had baked a loaf of bread cause we were spose to bring something edible with the recipe. 

Turns out my mother didn't go, and my niece doesn't like bread.  Fine. 

I can only think that I slept that long because it was a mental escape from the pain.  It's so bad that I'm seriously considering not going to Spokane to babysit Duke if it's not any better next week.  Can you imagine me not wanting to babysit Duke?  Yea, that's how much it hurts.  I am/was planning on going to San Diego after Spokane to go see Ben too, so he can get mad at me now too, if I can't go.  Which reminds me, I need to check the temperature in San Diego.  It was 97 in San Francisco for one day in San Francisco last week, and I had to pretend I didn't hear that.  Because not even I, with my crazy SF love, could not bear 97 degrees. 

It's hard to explain how the temperature affects my MS.  It's not all in my head, I swear.   In Googling heat and MS, I came across this little ditty about sleeping ... .  Well, that might explain the 5pm thing. 

For me, when I get too hot, I can feel my spine begin to tingle or "boil".  I can come to a boil by 5 minutes with the sun on my back, getting my period, getting a fever, taking a shower, or anything else that involves heat.  Like how the temperature is 40 at nite, and 80 during the day.  HATE that.

So, between having blisters, the abrupt temperature changes, working at Wheelie's house, and my garden, marathon training, and my weight gain ... I'm being slammed with MS much like in the very beginning. 

Speaking of the weight, I'm convinced that is the core of the issue.  I'm within 15 pounds of my heaviest weight and it hurts to carry it around.  My back hurts and the only thing that helps is ... a heating pad. 

I feel like I'm caught in a vicious spider web, going around in circles - anything I do makes me pay for it in some physical MS'sy way.  Mentally and emotionally - it's hard to be chipper while trying to make it look "normal".  Because there's a Black Widow hovering over me, just waiting for any weakness so MS can sink it's irreversible symptomy fangs into me. 

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A Horse of A Different Color

At age 50, I'm not quite sure I know what a Wii Fit is, but my son assures me that I want one.  Jenny at Three Kid Circus (whom I found via Joy Unexpected) is having a contest for most embarrassing weight loss machine story. 

I have MS, and I've been lucky - exercise actually keeps my MS from getting worse. I used to be MUCH worse, staggering around like a drunk without the fun of the drinking part. After working out at Curves, and walking up to 4 - 5 miles a day, I've learned that taking care of my health is a full-time job, in order not to let the MS come creeping back in. However, I got lazy last winter, and need to start up the exercise and weight loss all over again. As my son said "Wii can do it together, Mom". With him in Washington, and me in Idaho, I'm not sure how that's gonna happen, but whatever. If it's something he wants, and technology is involved, I'd be thrilled to be one-up on him. Him with his Ipods and Blackberry and laptop and Roomba Robot Vacuum ...

But on to my most embarrassing weight-loss purchase. Luckily, it was a garage sale purchase. I like to tell myself I was far too smart to buy it from the TV with a real live credit card, as I knew that the reputation of exercise machines in homes was not a good one.  Seems they turn into coat racks all by themselves. 

My teenage passion was horses. So you know I had to have the iGallup after the birth of my son 16 years previous - that pesky pregnancy weight, you know. Besides, I figured I had a leg up on the iGallop (punny!) by thinking that having been an experienced horseback rider way back when - it wouldn't kick my butt and I could gallop my weight away, like the pro that I was. My iGallop wasn't going to turn into a coat hanger, no sir-ree.

So one day, shortly after buying the damn thing, I overheard my then boyfriend talking to one of his buddies out on the deck, where the iGallop also sat.

Buddy: What's that contraption?

Hubby: Dunno. Think maybe it's a Kegel machine.

Buddy: Duuude. You're a lucky man.

... I couldn't look Buddy in the face for days afterwards, and was too embarrassed to use the iGallop ever again.

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A new beginning

I've got a new name for the blog!!! 

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

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MS is stupid, but Jeffrey is cute

Today/tonite was frought with frustration.  Everything I touched, I either dropped it, dropped it, or dropped it.  Or I put it down and burned myself on it.  Then there was the tripping over everything I dropped.  And the tripping over things that have been in the same place forever. 

Walls and furniture seem to jump out at me.  When I turn around, I start to fall in the direction that I turned.  This running into everything is an odd sensation.  It feels as tho the floor comes up at me at a slant...  I'm not making sense.

I've got to move to somewhere that has a pain clinic. 

I saw auras around Jeffrey last nite.  Perhaps 2 nites of not sleeping would cause that? 

There's new symptoms going on. 

Sigh. 

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Wordless Wednesday

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A new feature in my blog

In order to motivate myself to blog every day, I've come up with various subject matters for each day.  There's several categories for each day so that I'll have a choice in order not to be nailed down to one thing for each day.  Cause as soon as I do that, I seem to rebel and refuse to do what I've told myself to do.  It's a weird onery thing. 

I've come up with Talky Tuesday where I will write about some major or minor event on the news.  Or when I'm not feeling very talky, I thought Teethy Tuesday would be cool - and then I thought if I'm feeling particularly clever, I could get my teeth into talky tuesday ... !

So without further ado ...

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SFM, if you're reading, you might want to skip this category ... you know how you are ...

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... or you could consider this therapy in order to get over your little hang-up.   :-0

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Mother's Day Monday instead of Sunday

Today's the 12th of May.  Do you realize what that means?  Well, besides the fact that I missed "Hurray for the 8th of May, National Outdoor Intercourse Day", it also means that I "missed" Jacob's birthday. 

Jacob ... Born May 6th, 1983.  Which would make him, had he lived ... egads.  25 years old.  Why do I have to figure that out each year? 

I didn't actually forget his birthday.  I thought about it for several days before the 6th, because there was a sign in the lobby saying so & so was doing haircuts on May 6th.  So every time I walked by that sign, I thought about Jacob.  But the actual day ... someone took the sign down, as it was no longer needed, so ... I forgot. 

I have been overly bitchy lately ... but I've been blaming the weather.  And Mother's Day.  Don't really like Mother's Day much the last 2-3 years.  Mother's Day, Jacob's birthday, and Idaho's May weather contributes to me being bitchy and alone in order not to inflict myself on happier people who drive me nuts with their chirpy-ness.

Both my sons have been on my mind alot these last few days.  A couple of times, in the last 3 years, when having difficult discussions with SonOne, I had asked him if he'd ever read the Jacob Poems ... having forgotten his answer the previous time/s I've asked him.  I had interrupted and/or side-tracked whatever it was that we were arguing about to ask, because I wondered how he could be acting like I was the stupidest, dumbest person alive - as if were someone who didn't know a thing about life, and how could he be treating me like that if he had read the poems and knew what I had gone thru all by myself at one time.  I thought going thru that life experience, SonOne should respect me for it, knowing I wasn't talking out my butt - I knew a thing or two about losses, etc.  I eventually realized it was a moot point ... I think SonOne should be more respectful simply because I gave birth to him, and am his mother, and I wasn't a bad mother - which was the message he was giving me. 

Motherhood has been a land-mine for me the last 3 years.  SonOne did something wrong - a rather large something wrong, and since then, he's not been the kid I knew all the years previous.  He used to call me most Sundays, and actually talk without prodding, or me doing most of the talking.  He was considerate, asking me if I needed anything, etc.  He'd laugh.  He was easy to talk to.  But since the bad thing that he did, and keeping a rather significant secret ... he's been ... mean and thoughtless at times.  It's been okay on the surface for the last several months because I've chosen not to address the damage as I need to before I'm okay about it again.  For me not to talk a problem out is like asking me not to breathe.  He knows that, but he can't get past his own ... guilt? and anger at me for calling him on his shit, and expecting an apology (sincere being the key word there), and/or a promise that it won't happen again (the lying to me).  That trust needs to be rebuilt and the way to do that was not to continue with hiding the very secret (for 2 more years) that caused the original damage in the first place.  He didn't "man up" certain decisions he made - and had he ... I would so much have respected his decisions much more than having to live with the damage I do now - damage that affects most every conversation we have now, no matter how benign, or how I feel about his girlfriend, whom I can't help but blame more than I should.  On the outside, it looks like he was a good, happy person before he met her, but since then, he's lied, and hid things, and been mean and thoughtless.  I wonder who the real SonOne is at this point, and can I believe anything at all.  He doesn't realize that I would MUCH rather had been angry for 5 minutes or 5 days ... but instead it's been distrust and distance and avoidance going on for 3 years now.  The fact that his girlfriend lied to me also doesn't help the situation at all - I find myself refusing to know her because it feels like it was all such a sham in the first place and the way he brought her into his life doesn't reflect all that is good and happy and truthful and sincere where relationships are concerned. 

He doesn't understand that I don't judge him for the decisions he made ... they are his decisions to live with.  He does seem happy.  Even tho it seems on the outside, to outsiders, that what he has now is not any different that what he had before.  I keep my emotional distance in order not to be hurt again - not to be lied to again.  Since he doesn't talk to me like he used to, I'm an outsider, so I don't understand his happiness, since it looks so much like he used to have before.  Mostly because I can't trust that he tells the truth when I ask how he is.  After the bad thing he did ... I would imagine he's got to save face by being happy even if he's not.  But like I said ... he SEEMS happy, and I really, really hope that he is.  I believed he was before, and I was wrong, because he was always "fine" when I asked.  A land-mine, I'm just say'n.  He wants to be treated like an adult, yet his excuse was "all kids lie to their parents".  Yup, they do.  Keyword being "kid", twenty-seven year old son of mine. 

If he understood to what level the distrust affects me ... I wonder if it would bother him, or if he'd want to fix it between us.  But at this point - all that I got when I attempted to talk to him is anger, so I've left it go for the time being. 

It's painful to not know the boundaries - is asking "How are you?" too nosy?  Do I have a right to expect the truth?  Is "I'm fine" acceptable, when I know that's what he told me before ... only it turned out he wasn't really fine?  Is a surface "I'm fine, how's the weather out there" normal between parents and grown-up children?  Will he tell me when something is wrong and he needs help/to talk about it/advice/support/unconditional love, like he used up up until 3 years ago? 

Besides that ... he hit below the belt by telling me that I was a no better parent to him than the father that ignored him for 23 of the first 25 years of his life.  Ironically, the whole episode has brought his father back into his life, and for that ... I am grateful.  Now my son knows he's got 2 parents for the first time in his life, and that is worth all my current angst about being a mother these days.  I'll especially be glad about it on Father's Day, but this Mother's Day?  Selfish, I know, but it sucks. 

It didn't used to matter, because I knew he loved me - this Mother's Day thing.  We're not the sending presents or flowers type of mother/son relationship.  But the last 3 years?  I don't like wondering whether he'll even bother to call.  Painful.  I spent most of the day gearing up my Strong Mom Shield - in case he didn't call.  I even let him off the imaginary hook - leaving the phone outside while I worked in the garden all day.  I don't like the hurt part inside of me that thinks flowers would be appropriate ... considering the damage that needs to be healed. 

But I do think that because I am what I am.  Today, Mother's Day ...  a mother who hurts because it feels like she's lost 2 kids now. 

*

Edited to add - he did call.

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

So do the math with me.  Humor me. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

**

I wish I could say GreenishLady is gonna be sorry she's busy visiting Paris andwill probably miss this post.

Despite being determined to make GreenishLady rue the day she told me she didn't read the racing/Jeff Gordon posts by saving my most brilliant and witty writing for these posts ... it ain't happening.  Partly because that wicked Nascar throws in a race on a Saturday every so often, without telling me, so I'm caught by surprise when I'm shooting the remote at the TV, looking for the Kentucky Derby (because I am a well-rounded racer of many ... species?  Diversity?) only to stumble on "GENTLEMEN.  Start.  Your.  Engines" and cussing because you hadn't yet taken the Gordon picturefor the week, so were unprepared to post with any wit whatsoever - much less present the beloved pictures of my man - well, this sentence is so running on, I don't know how to stop it, so I'm just gonna do so by using a period.  (.)

Sigh.  Don't like short-track racing anyways, but here's Richmond.  Jeff isn't doing any good again today.  I'm thinking that wife of his is the problem.   Must be.  Can't think of any other reason.  Haven't paid much attention to how Johnson and Dale Jr. are doing because ... well.  Because my house stinks. 

It smells like there's something dead in here.  Or else it's the broccoli in the freezer.  When it comes to stink, spoiled brocolli ranks right up there in being one of the worst stinks.  But since my beloved cat/s like to bring me dead animals of the rodent and/or the feathered variety, I can't with any assurance say the current stink is kitchen related.  But it's bad enough to make me want to leave the apartment, which is a problem cause the RACE IS ON.  Grrr.  Then I feel guilty, because what kind of Nascar fan am I, if I can be irritated by a little stink going on during the viewing of the race?  Not much of one, is all I can say. 

*

Tuesday Topic - What Comes Around Goes Around

Let's Talk

What was said on Oprah today, confirmed my deep belief that I gathered during my recovery process - Oprah's show said it better than I ever could. 

If you don't deal with the past, the past stays in your present and re-enacts itself in your behavior, your relationships, and/or in your child/children.  You will do this unconsciously, and then your child will pass on the dysfunction caused by your dysfunction ... along with your original dysfunction.  Maybe you deal with your past pain by being addicted to painkillers.  Your child may grow up determined not to by like you, but lo and behold ... she's addicted to shopping or people-pleasing. 

Also, we seek out partners who display the same characteristics of the past dysfunction because that is the most comfortable.  Again, we do this unconsciously.  We unconsciously seek the partners most unhealthy for us in order to heal our lives in some sick, twisted unconscious sort of way. 

I've given this example many times as a result of personal experience.  Several women in my various support groups would lament "why oh why is my 13, 14, 15 year old daughter pregnant?"  They would wonder this, even tho they were there to work out issues such as giving up a baby to adoption (and keeping it a secret).  Or dealing with having an abortion (and keeping it a secret).  Or finding out their mother had given up a sibling for adoption (thereby living with a secret). 

I've often thought that the expression "What goes around, comes around" is expressed far too lightly.  It's often said when somebody deserves to be punished somehow.  The most recent example I can think of is about the guy in Austria who held his daughter in a basement hideaway for 24 years, raping her and producing 7 children with her.  I read a comment board where someone said "What goes around comes around", and that he should be put in prison, where the other prisoners will bestow oh him what he did to his daughter for 24 years. 

Because we repeat our pasts unconsciously, of course "what goes around, comes around". 

When we fall in love, the first flush of love and romance pretty much serve as an anesthesia - everythingis perfect, he's perfect, we love each other so!  Even if the red flags are there, you're too busy looking at him Thur rose-colored eye glasses.  The chemicals of falling in love minimize the red flags.  When the problems start to crop up and can no longer be denied, there's two options; to break up, or heal it.  If you choose to break up, the same scenario will happen with the next partner.  It is not until you choose to heal the past, with or without a partner, that you'll begin to have a happy life. 

Those are the words I've repeated to clients back in the day when I facilitated support groups. 

On Oprah today and on her website: 

"[Imago] (a therapy technique) helps couples understand how the problems they have in a relationship in the present are connected to issues that are left over from childhood," he says. "Most of the stuff that's going on in a relationship has its roots in the past—we say about 90 percent in the past, and it's triggered by about 10 percent of the behaviors in the present."

"Subconsciously, that person is also attracted to their partner's negative traits that are connected to the unfulfilled needs of childhood".

"When you start acting out in adulthood with hurtful behavior, you're actually acting out of that pain. If you release the pain, then you remove the power [that pain holds]."

"It's not a coincidence you're attracted to your partner. "You lost [happiness during childhood] and you'll never feel fully alive again until you get it back. We think that committed partnership or marriage is the context within which those issues can be restored."

Contrary to our culture's model, Dr. Hendrix says intimate relationships are not really about romance. "It's an amazing thing that you're drawn together, in the romantic phase, to somebody who's similar to the worst traits of all the negative traits combined of all your caretakers," he says. "A romantic phase is an anesthesia. It's like nature is keeping you from knowing what it's about to set you up to do, which is to heal each other's childhood wounds."

Dr. Oz says Dr. Hendrix's theory has medical backing. When you are first in love, he says your body releases natural chemicals like dopamine, which is related to addiction, and oxytocin. "That makes you feel love and warm and cuddly," Dr. Oz says.

*****

Yup.  That's just what I said.  Only I said it about 15 years ago. 

*

Is it any wonder why I get so frustrated?

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

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

2.  Then the Internet went down. 

3.  Then it came back. 

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

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

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

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

I give up. 

*

That cat

*

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*

Talledega

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

Him:  How do we get to the car? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Me:  (Left fuming with the luggage) 

Me:  (Still fuming with the luggage)

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

Me:  (Seriously consider it)

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

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

He:  I tol...

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

He:  But I tol ...

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

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

Oh, yes I do.  SHUT UP. 

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

*

I hereby commit to personnally lighten the load on my plane

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

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

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

???

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm done packing! 

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

*

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

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

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

That is all.

*

We were stalked by an owl. Or the post that sucked Gosling in.

First I have to set the scene. In my effort to feel productive, I've been getting up by 8am for the last 3 mornings. This hasn't proven difficult at all, but about 5:30pm, but today I needed a nap. I set the alarm for 6pm, just wanting a tiny, short nap - a power nap.

Next thing I know, it's 10:00. I thought it meant 10am in the morning. I lay there for several minutes, disgusted with myself, telling myself I failed at my new plan to reform after just 3 days. Imagine my horror when I got up and it was DARK. Instead of thinking I'd overslept that nite and into the next morning, I thought I'd overslept that nite, into the next morning and into the NEXT night again!!

So to say I was disoriented is an understatement. If I said I was disoriented ALOT, it would still be an understatement.

The next horrified thought was the dogs hadn't been outside for... I had to pause my panicked disorientation to do the math... from 5:30pm yesterday to 10pm "today".... 28 hours!! Does anyone know how difficult math is when one is mathimatically challenged and had the grades to prove it, AND disoriented from taking a 28 hour long nap.  AND with MS???  I swear MS took any ability I had with using all versions of thinking with numbers.  Clocks included. 

The next problem was deciding what to wear when one is just GETTING UP at 10pm after a 28 hour nap. Regular daytime clothes or pajamas? While believing one's dogs haven't peed in 28 hours, which puts an element of HURRY into it?

Finally, I got outside with the dogs. Who oddly seemed more interested in the refrigerator than going outside after 28 hours of not peeing, which should have been my first clue. But I figured they must be disoriented too - they thought it was time for dinner. Which only makes sense, since supposedly they'd missed last nite's dinner and tonite's dinner was late. But still. One would think after not peeing for 28 hours, peeing would be priority. I certainly skipped my own need to pee, in my efforts to get them peed.  I'm sure I've mentioned MS giving me pee problems.  Peeing them first is how much I love my dogs.  The sacrifices I make. 

As I walked out to the field behind the apartment, wondering how in the hell I slept thru 3, yes THREE piercing cell phone alarms... one for waking up from the nap at 6pm, the wake-up alarm at 8am, AND the 3pm Physical Therapy alarm... I felt a WHOOOSH over my head. The kind of whooosh you can both hear and feel from the air rushing by. Muttin ran to my side, whining. Since I was still in Disoriented Hell, I didn't pay attention. As I continued to walk down the field, trying to justify a 28 hour nap, and wondering if I should report such a nap to someone medical, since I blame MS for everything wrong in my life - Muttin continued to whine. Eventually I saw something out of the corner of my eye, above us, flying to the top of a telephone pole. The moon was bright, and with it reflecting off the snow, it was bright enough to see that it was a HUMONGOUS owl.

From the time of the first whooosh to the time of seeing the owl was the length of 3 telephone poles. I kept walking, watching both Muttin and the owl. That owl flew ahead to the next telephone pole. I stopped dead in my tracks, and called Jeffrey to me. This whole time, Muttin hadn't left my side and hadn't stopped whining. Now normally, I am Miss Facinated by Every Single Move My Dogs Make, since they are so adorable, and would have noticed out of the norm behavior, but did I mention my 28 hour nap? I realized Muttin knew all about that owl, from the first whooosh to the 3rd telephone pole.

I started walking again, cause I didn't want that owl to mistake me for a tree, rather than the Protecter of My Dogs, and I figured walking was the best way to show the owl that I wasn't a tree, because being a tree would make it okay to swoop down and grab a dog by it's wicked talons. Notice how danger sharpened my previously disoriented mind... I knew the word for owl's feet.

As we continued to walk, that owl flew ahead AGAIN to the next telephone pole. It didn't care about my Walking to Prove I Wasn't a Tree impression. It was biding it's time. It was stalking us. 

I tried to remember everything that I'd learned about owls, and realized it was next to nothing. The two things I did remember created a quandry. 1. They were wise, and 2. they had good eyesight. I recalled something about radar senses, but I think that's for bats.  And I wondered if they had a good sense of smell, cause that would sure be nice if they did, cause surely then it would smell the Human Protecting The Dog Meat, therefore, it would be stupid to do any more whoooshing anywhere near me and the dogmeat dogs.  So the quandry I settled on was, if wise, surely it knew better than to do anymore whoooshing and/or if owls have such good eyesight, surely it saw that my dogs were too big for it's wicked talons. Right?

Or maybe, God forbid, in the things that I didn't know about owls, when I was supposedly learning about owls, IF I ever did learn about owls, and had forgotten everything I ever knew about owls, not knowing that someday I'd be stalked by an owl AND my lack of eyeglasses for my own poor eyesight,