It's a New Day

The sun is shining, and I'm still here. It's all good.

A New Chapter in My Life

Sixteen years ago I started a new chapter in my life with the birth of my oldest son. Over the years it has been added to and the outcome of the story rewritten with the births of 3 more children, the loss of 3 pregnancies, and the bringing of my stepchildren into my life. Other chapters unfolded alongside this one, all penned carefully in the tedious manner of my perfectionism, detailing various jobs, the love and loss of my mother, the coming and going of friends, and the final acceptance of myself as being who I really am and not who everyone else thought I should be. The story could have gone on in this manner for years, adding more and more, all the way to an "and they all lived happily ever after" ending in the book of my life.

Today I closed that chapter and opened a new one, since that life was shattered and no longer existed. The uncertainty of the outcome of this new story lurks in the lower recesses of my psyche and threatens the sanctity of the first in the face of a seemingly more menacing future.

This story begins July 30, 2007.

I received the results of my most recent MRI scan today, beginning my new tale. No one can really say how the story will end.

IMPRESSION: At least two areas of abnormality in FLAIR signal situated in the periventricular white matter on the right side, in the parietal and occipital regions, demonstrating no significant enhancement after contrast and having a nonspecific appearance and can be seen with multiple sclerosis in an appropriate clinical situation.

After being told "it's all in your head, you need to see a psychiatrist," 12 months after the onset of my symptoms I find out that it really IS all in my head - just not in the way it was attempted to be forced on me back then.

This is why it is so important for each of us to be aware of our own bodies; and if we think something is wrong, we need to pursue it to its conclusion and not just accept the word of someone who can never walk in our shoes. Had I just nodded my head and played the game according to their rules instead of my own, taking that referral to a psychiatrist, I would never had made it this far in this misadventure.

I'm not dead yet and I don't plan on giving up easily or lying down without a fight. I WILL win, you wait and see. I will use my pen and all the gifts endowed upon me by the Lord to rewrite this chapter to that happily-ever-after ending, not only for my own sake but for my children's. This iceberg has a long journey ahead in the warm ocean currents before melting away, but I know I will not be forgotten - I will live on, like the berg that took down the Titanic.

How Smart is Your Right Foot?

I got this email and got a giggle out of it (thanks for giving me one more useless bit of knowledge to clutter up my head, Andrea!) and thought I'd pass it on:

How smart is Your Right Foot ?

Just try this. It is from an orthopedic surgeon............

This will boggle your mind and you will keep trying over and over again to see if you can outsmart your foot, but, you can't. It's preprogrammed in your brain!

WITHOUT anyone watching you (they will think you are GOOFY......) and while sitting where you are at your desk in front of your computer, lift your right foot off the floor and make clockwise circles. Now, while doing this, draw the number "6" in the air with your right hand. Your foot will change direction. (If it doesn't you have a neurological problem)!

I told you so!!! And there's nothing you can do about it!

You and I both know how stupid it is, but before the day is done you are going to try it again, if you've not already done so. Send it to your buddies to frustrate them, too.

My Poor Berries

Years and years ago, we had about a gazillion blackberry bushes way out back in the woods and red raspberry bushes even further back, all wild and yummy and, of course, free. I hated trucking all the way out there, though, and got the bright idea of dragging a bunch of bushes up closer to the house. I planted them all over the yard, and 20+ years later my efforts have finally paid off.

Last year when the girls came to live with us, I showed them where my berries were growing and taught them the difference between the ripe red raspberries and the not-ripe blackberries, which are also red. There were not many bushes and only a few berries, so I let them have at it and they gobbled them up. This year, the bushes went ape shit, growing thick as can be over an area about 20 x 40 feet and under all the tree rows and even out in the front yard near the road. I saw the berries coming in, huge clusters of berries, getting all excited thinking about blackberry pie. Of course, this year I taught my two youngest how to tell the difference between the ripe and not-ripe berries, and all four of them were having a high time, picking berries and eating them. They didn't get all the raspberries and most of them dropped off and onto the ground, so next year they will spread even more, but they were patiently awaiting those blackberries. I noticed a few days ago that they were ripening beautifully and I was gearing up for that pie. I just went outside to get some berries and they are gone.

Where did my berries go?

Those four little stinkers were out there eating them off the bushes, shoveling them in as fast as their little fingers could pick them or dropping them on the ground and smooshing them. So much for that pie. In a few hours they will probably be yelling about belly aches and pooping in high gear. I'm dying for pie and trying to convince my middle boy to go alllllll the way out back in the woods to the original berry patch and get some more berries, but he thinks I'm torturing him.

It Was Only a Matter of Time

Working on potty issues with our 3-year-old daughter, who has actually been potty trained for the better part of the last 2 years but sometimes efuses to do her deed in the toilet. After all, it's much more fun to drop trou and pinch a loaf in the middle of the living room floor for all 4 of the younger kids to point and laugh at than to do it in the toilet, where no one can appreciate it for the masterpiece it is and it just gets flushed away. ALSO potty training our son, who just turned 2. He's a lovable, jolly little guy with a heart of gold, a total prince (at least until he hits puberty, if he's anything like other boys). He has that "special equipment" that little girls don't have and he's so proud of himself that he's learned to point and aim his gun, locked and loaded and ready for action. He shows off his potty prowess to the entire family and loves to pee for an audience. It's the applause he gets that floats his boat, after all. He pees everywhere: In the toilet, out the patio door, on the cat. When he's done, he shakes it off and puts it away and then laughs and claps, knowing he's done a good job by pissing everywhere but in his draws.

I knew it was only a matter of time, though, until my daughter decided she wanted to piss like a man instead of peeing like a girl, and I almost laughed myself into an aneurysm when I saw it happen. Fortunately my office chair was nowhere in the vicinity and was safe from my laughing so hard I would fall off and break it, and instead I just fell on the floor in a quivering heap of flesh. She lifted the lid, lifted the seat, stood on the step stool to position herself over the bowl, and tried to aim. Since she doesn't have the right equipment for the job, I just knew it would have been a mess like the ones I used to have to clean up in the men's room when I worked at the bar - you know, the ones those drunk fuckers make when they walk in the john and puke, shit, and piss all over the back of the toilet, on the floor, on the wall, in the sink, and anywhere else but IN THE BOWL. Now you know why I hate housework and married a man that had no choice but to stay home and be my "housewife" while I bring home the bacon. (Go ahead, call him my wife. It pisses him off. I do it all the time and it's pretty fun.)

Anyhow, I caught her in time and explained that she has to sit and pee like mommy and not pee like her brother. I've never seen that child look so disappointed. It's just not fair, you know, that boys can stand and pee and girls can't. Boys just don't deserve that privilege.

God was just about done creating the universe, but He had two extra things left in his bag of creations, so he decided to split them between Adam and Eve. He told the couple that one of the things he had to give away was the ability to stand up urinating. "It's a very handy thing," God told the couple. "I was wondering if either one of you wanted that ability."

Adam jumped up and blurted, "Oh, give that to me! I'd love to be able to do that! It seems a sort of thing a man should do. Oh please, oh please, oh please, let me have that ability. It'd be so great! When I'm working in the garden or naming the animals, I could just stand there and let it fly. It'd be so cool. I could write my name in the sand. Oh please God, let it be me who you give that gift to, let me stand and pee, oh please."

On and on he went like an excited little boy who had to pee. Eve just smiled and told God that if Adam really wanted that so badly, he could have it. It seemed to be the sort of thing that would make him happy, and she really wouldn't mind if Adam were the one given this ability.

And so Adam was given the ability to control the direction of his misdirection while in a vertical position. And lo, he was happy and did celebrate by wetting down the bark on the tree nearest him, laughing with delight all the while. And it was good.

"Fine," God said, looking back into his bag of leftover gifts.

"What's left here? Oh yes, multiple orgasms...

Whew. . .

OK, I think I got it figured out. As you can see, I've cleaned up a bit around here in hopes that this will load a bit faster now. I've removed some of the stuff that, while it was pretty cool, was slowing me down. My computer's an old beast with only 126 MB RAM and I don't have the money to upgrade, so you have to ride along with me at my snail's pace.

I've moved most of the links to sites I have feeds to and read regularly (and sites you must read as well, because they're the ones I read and I'm the boss and I eventually always get my way - just kidding) to drop downs, so if you haven't checked them out, AGAIN, I highly recommend it.

Someday I'll get more RAM. After I pay the electric bill (which I got another updated bill yesterday and is now $596.16 - where the hell are they coming up with this?), the propane bill, rent, car payment, car insurance, telephone and DSL, 16 doctor/hospital bills that have been sitting here for about 5 months, all my credit card bills (don't even get me started), and one of these days, one of the herd needs braces. Sheesh.

AND. . . if you haven't had any problems with my site in IE, great. If you do, it's because I hate IE and work in Firefox, so it's best viewed in Firefox. Have a great day!

PS: Thanks for the offer of help, Diesel. I know I'm old now when I can prattle off coding in COBOL and ASCII but don't know crap about HTML, but I'll get it eventually.

The Expletives Are Flying

I want to clean my Blogger blog up, make it "purty" and easy to read and, well, COOL. I'm having some problems trying to get it to do what I want it to and cussing enough to make a sailor blush.

ARRRRRGH! Save me!

Good Thing My Head's Screwed On

Or I would lose that along with everything else. I can't keep my hands on anything without setting it down somewhere and forgetting where I put it later, with the exception of my kids. Thankfully I've never forgotten any of them anywhere, even though they outnumber me 6 to 1. I tell you, though, there are times. . . Just kidding.

It's really a blessing that my head's securely attached to my shoulders. I'm really not having any luck with that craniorectal inversion maneuver, so it's not like I can store it there for safe keeping. I'd sure like to know how so many people on this planet can manage to shove their heads so far up their asses without breaking their back. Some of them get it up there pretty damn far, and they should be in Guinness Book.

Fate or Something Else?

How cool is this?

Insatiable Appetite for Knowledge

I just can’t get enough of it. I’m addicted, and I admit it, to the quest for knowledge. I’ve always been an avid reader, reading everything that crossed my hands from books to magazines to informational handouts in doctors’ waiting rooms (everything except romance novels, since I never got into those).

I just don’t have the time I would like to devote to reading anymore and have taken up watching the boob tube or reading stuff on the internet, when I have a spare minute or two. I’ve developed a particular taste for channels like Discovery Channel, History Channel, Discovery Health, Animal Planet, and TLC. I can’t believe some of the stuff I’ve learned by watching TV that I never learned in school, things people really should know, everything from the human body to the Universe to World War I and II. It’s just too bad I can no longer afford the Dish Network hookup and will be canceling it in a couple weeks when my contract expires.

I’ve become an avid watcher of programs like Digging for the Truth (and not just because Josh Bernstein is a hottie but because I’m LEARNING something, although he is pretty hot), Cities of the Underground, The Universe (2 thumbs up on this program), Man Moment Machine, History’s Mysteries, Decoding the Past, Modern Marvels, and Mega Disasters among others.

I also get all geeked over shows like How It’s Made, since I love knowing about the inner workings of stuff. I was one of those kids (even though I was not a boy) who loved to tear things apart to see how they worked. Who am I kidding? I’m still one of those kids who loves to tear things apart to see how they work.

Last night I caught a great program on Queen Hatshetsup and the process they went through to determine which mummy was hers, and the quest to find why someone tried to erase her from history. Absolutely fascinating.

Yes, my heart is breaking over all the knowledge I’ll be missing out on when I have to have my Dish disconnected.

What's Happening in My Neck of the Woods

Yahoo News is a great source of information, and there seems to be no shortage of “interesting” stories from my neck of the woods:

Man Spreads Fire on Flaming Hay Wagon

This story is about idiocy in motion - literally. Whether transporting hay for livestock use or for a hayride, it can be dangerous. I’ve seen any number of injuries and/or fatalities resulting from Hay On The Highway and Hayrides Gone Bad, and some people don’t seem to have enough brains to blow themselves up with when it comes to safe transport. This incident proves my point.

Teacher Apologizes for Bugging Colleague

This story points me ever onward in the direction of thinking that the public education system will be the downfall of modern society. If this woman and her daughter had a problem with a teacher, colleague or not, there is a process to follow regarding grievances, and it does not involve placing electronic monitoring devices in a classroom. This woman should not be teaching our children - what does she have worthwhile to offer our children for their futures, besides teaching them the wrong way to deal with adversity in their lives?

Give Some Blood, Maybe Win a Car

At first glance, this story seems pretty cool. After thinking about it for, like, 2.3 seconds, I get irked. People have to be essentially bribed to do something they should just do as a decent human being? How would someone who is only willing to give blood in exchange for a nice “prize” think or feel if they desperately needed blood to save their life and couldn’t get it because not enough people could be bought off to give? It pisses me off to think about it. I have type A negative blood, not a common type, and I am proud to give it when I can, knowing I am helping to save someone else’s life.

Fliers Lead to Michigan Child Porn Charges

This just makes me sick. I have no words for this walking, talking pile of feces.

BBL: Died and Gone to Heaven

I’ve been all whiney and mopey lately, feeling sorry for myself because of my frigging eye and all that it “could” entail as far as my future health. However, I didn’t actually hit rock bottom until I went out and bought a jug of ice cream that cost more than $2.49 a half-gallon. I got the good shit, to drown my misery in, the stuff that costs $5.49. I never spend that much on a single jug of ice cream unless it’s on sale and comes in a 5-quart pail; this was a single half-gallon jug, and yes, I really paid that much for it. Rock bottom, I’m telling ya.

Hubby-man seemed to know something was up since I’m usually a tightwad and a penny pincher, so tight you’d have to drag a needle out of my ass with a John Deere tractor, but he kept his mouth shut (or should I say his hands in his lap) for once. Amazing wonder #1 of the day.

I broke open my ice cream and hid in the corner of my office, out of sight of the kids, since they would surely intrude on my pity party and my ice cream. I ate a whole bowl full, where normally I rarely eat it (long story involving my teeth) and when I do, I eat a single scoop, two on a bad day. Talk about an existential experience. I was alive–having a rough time but alive nonetheless–and I had 6 beautiful children and a husband who loved, cared about, and needed me. I had a life, and I was gonna live it. End of story, right?

But it’s not really the end of the story. That ice cream was the best ice cream I ever ate in my life. I savored every single bit I could scrape out of the bowl and considered licking the melty remnants out but finally got control of myself. Amazing wonder #2 of the day. It cooled my tongue AND soothed my soul. I rolled each tiny spoonlet in my mouth until it melted and it was like drinking the Water of Life. It was better than sex. It was better than–I can’t believe I’m going to say this–IT WAS BETTER THAN MOUNTAIN DEW.

The ice cream I’m talking about was Homemade Brand Chocolate Marbled Cheesecake. I’ve had Homemade Brand ice cream before, always a special treat since it costs an arm and a leg to buy but TOTALLY worth every cent, and it is hands-down the best ice cream on the planet. I always loved their Neapolitan ice cream but can’t seem to find it in the stores any more, and that was what prompted me to grab this flavor instead. This ice cream doesn’t play around. It reaches out and grabs you by your inner being, shakes it up a little and then gives it the time of its life with full-flavored ice cream filled with chunks (not slivers, but CHUNKS) of real chocolate, nuts, or fruit, depending on what flavor you’ve chosen. Tonight’s pleasure included real chunks of cheesecake mixed in with the ice cream. If you’ve never had Homemade Brand ice cream before, I highly recommend you try it. You’ll never look back and every ice cream experience you have afterward will pale in comparison. You’ve never really had ice cream until you’ve had this stuff.

No, this is not a paid post. I’d crow the virtues of this ice cream from every rooftop in America for free (well, I might accept a free container or two of it).

That's a New One

Google Search leads some curious seekers to My Boat (some of which, I am sad to report, have sent my boat to the bottom much like The Fitz that fateful November day):

“your body is so much fun i just want to give it a big stroke. you’ve gone flat and you’re all gooey. I shall not play with you until you have a wash lyrics”

Curious, my ass. Have you gone mad? This must be some new song infiltrating the air waves and obviously some people’s brain waves? Do they even truly have brain wave activity? Get the EEG machine, stat!

I got a giggle when Google and Yahoo searches like “pooped her pants” and “why does shit float” landed curiosity seekers into the depths of my disillusionment, but this one takes the cake, bakes it, eats it, and then, well. . . never mind. You get the picture, or hopefully not. There have been quite a few “pooped her pants” searches that landed people here, probably in response to the Alli clip on YouTube with the girl shitting her pants, which was pretty damn funny. As for “why does shit float,” what person in the world has NOT wondered that at some point in their lives (usually before the age of 6, and why someone is looking that up on the internet and not just asking mom and dad is beyond me; or if it is an adult and they are worried, they should be asking A DOCTOR instead of people like me, since I will just laugh until I piss my pants, fall off my chair and break yet another $125-$250 chair, and then get pissed because I have to fork over money for a new one).

It is a funny thing about chairs. I have had a few of them the last few years and they just do not seem to last as long as I think they should, but that might have to do with the fact that I sit in mine about 20 hours a day, 7 days a week, transcribing my transcriptionist’s transcription on my transcriber, and they just are not meant for that kind of abuse. I thought I got the Queen of all chairs (although it might be a King, considering the. . . *cough*. . . never mind.) when I got my last one, which has heat and massage. Too bad that my big fat ass mooshed all the padding down and the little vibrator thingies are now poking my ass instead of massaging it. Oh, and THE BOY swiped the controller, so I have no way to turn the stupid thing on anymore anyhow and those vibrator thingies are pretty useless for any purpose other than causing me discomfort. The best chair I ever had was the one I had at the gynecologist’s office I worked at years ago. That met a sad demise as well, due to a laughing accident. I wish I may, I wish I might, find such a chair, for working all night. I need to quit laughing so hard, but I cannot help myself when stuff just tickles my fancy AND my funny bone.

Duct Tape is Good For. . . ?

Anyone ever catch that program, The Red Green Show, the guy with the duct tape? Good for a giggle.

Duct tape is one of the more versatile substances on Earth, and some people can become pretty creative when it comes to how they use it. There is even a scholarship contest run by Duck Brand Duct Tape, Stuck At Prom, where contestants can make their prom-wear using duct tape and enter to win prizes. This stuff comes in a whole rainbow of colors, so no wonder people can find so many uses for it.

This little bit had me choke on my Mountain Dew until it came out my nose, which really hurt by the way, but I couldn’t help laughing:

What’s your favorite use for duct tape? OR. . . Why won’t you use the stuff? Share your stories, folks!

No iPhones Here

My cell phone is “old.” I know this because my son told me so. Old and BIG. Not, like, 1980’s cement block in your purse kind of big, but still pretty big. It has been one of my best friends for a couple years now, and it is probably a comfort kind of thing - something you just cannot bear to part with like a favorite old holey T-shirt or pair of broken-in slippers. It has been dropped, stepped on, and kicked across the floor like “the heart” on Chicago Hope; Mountain Dew spilled on it so many times I lost track; stolen by one or both of the babies and opened and closed so many times that the display no longer works right. It does not always ring, and sometimes I miss calls. Now, it is giving off a suspicious noise that could very well be a death rattle. I guess it is time for another trip to the Alltel “emergency room,” so they can roll their eyes at me because I refuse to sign a Do Not Resuscitate order on my poor Toshiba. I simply CANNOT get a new one, though. This one is like an extension of my own arm, and I will use it until the day it dies and the guys at Alltel just cannot bring it back from the brink. I have no clue what I would do without it.

My first cell phone was an analog phone from Verizon that I had for years and they neglected to tell me would no longer function when they switched to their digital network, even after about 40 calls to customer service over 3 months’ time because it would not work, 4 trips to the Verizon repair center, and, of course, continued billing for service during that 3 months that I was unable to use it.

My reluctance for change might be due to the fact I am too damn picky. BUT. . . I happen to be a firm believer in getting what I pay for, and I am pretty damn picky now after my Verizon experiences. I live so remote from civilization far out in the boonies that they have to pump our air and sunlight out here, let alone luxuries like cell phone service (we do not even have cable, for pity sake), and any phone I get has to have an extendible antenna or it will not get service. Another “minor” fact Verizon neglected to tell me when I got a new phone and it still failed to work, even though it was digital; so after 4 days I told them to shove their phone and their service up their donkey-hole. I went across the street to the Alltel store then stood on the sidewalk outside Verizon after my Alltel purchase dancing a jig, laughing and pointing. That was almost 5 years ago and they still keep sending me a bill.

It’s all good though.

Well, I Told You So

Saw my neurologist (NL) today, who’s a lovely lady and one of my favorite people even though she charges me $20 a pop to tell me she can’t figure out what’s up. So after I hand over my $20 to get through the Ring of Fire door between the waiting room and the back part of the office, I get my turn in an exam room. I’m sitting there in my chair waiting and can’t help but notice it’s right next to the ventilation duct. And the man and the lady 4 rooms down are having their visit with the doctor. And I can hear every word they’re saying.

So much for patient confidentiality. Who’s on the other end of the duct listening to me bitch and moan? Thank God it’s a neurologist office and not a gynecologist, or they’d have to listen to me gripe about my periods and cry because we might have to think about yet another round of infertility treatment if we really decide to do this thing, and most of all hear the bitterness in my voice and how upset I am from the stress that was with 99.99% certainty the cause of my miscarriage a few months ago.

Anyhow. The NL at Cleveland Clinic assured me she would send a follow-up note to my NL about what she wanted done after my visit down there and, of course, did not do it. So my NL has to go on what I tell her the other doctor said: “Another MRI of the cervical spine to monitor the syringomyelia, particular attention looking for T1 hypointensity (say that one really fast 3 times, I dare you!) and if that is present, CSF studies to rule out spinal cord inflammation.” She says, “Of course.” I guess all those years as a transcriptionist have finally paid off, with my attention to detail and my knowledge of terminology. I can recite this crap but don’t ask me what it means because you’ll get a blank stare and possibly some drool.

Then we talk about my visual field deficits and the fact that I went to the ER and they said there was nothing wrong. I know, and she knows I know, that a CT scan without contrast is not really going to show much unless it’s something HUGE like a large tumor or bleed (thank you again, Transcription). So besides another MRI on my neck, I get to have another MRI on my head to look for those demyelinating plaques again.

Of course, after I get those done, plus a swallowing study that the Cleveland NL wants done, I get to go back to her office for another visit (another $20 copay). She was pretty pleased, though, that I’d had the foresight to schedule an appointment on my own with an ophthalmologist and that it’s tomorrow.

Not only do I have a headache, now I have a pain in my ass.

Greatest Toy/Kids and Money

This is kind of a combination of two posts, since I am just too lazy to break it down into two and the first kinda sorta leads into the second anyhow. Don’t like it? Tough noodles.

The greatest toys, besides the empty boxes expensive toys come in that kids play with for exactly 4.2 minutes then set aside in favor of said box - almost always without fail - are the ones that don’t cost much.

The kids were being crabby in Wal-Mart and had no desire to wander peacefully up and down the aisles while we gathered “junk” like dish soap, Pull Ups, and toilet paper, so I grabbed some pinwheels (you know, those shiny metallic spinners on a stick?) and they were entertained for so long that I even had time to compare prices instead of just grabbing the first case of shit paper on the shelf. They played with them all through the store (handing them over only long enough for the cashier to ring them up), all through the next store, on the ride home (4 laughing hyenas in the back seats when the air from the windows made them spin really fast), and then for hours after they were home. At $0.97 each x4, I have to say it was money well spent.

My kids are. . . well. . . strange. They got all gooey and excited over SCHOOL SUPPLIES. They went ape-shit over crayons, pencils, and notebooks. I thought they would pee their pants over new backpacks for school. Even my 3-year-old got a new bag since she is going to go to “school” this year in the early childhood program (she has speech/language delay from her sensorineural hearing loss since birth). “My Dora-Dora bag” she says.

Thank Heaven they did not have a SpongeBob bag or I would have never gotten it off her back and would have had to scan kid-and-all at the checkout counter. You laugh, but it has happened to me before: Once when I got her shoes, she refused to take them off after trying them on and I had to put her on the belt after the cashier turned it off, so she could scan my kid’s foot. They were laughing 16 registers on either side. The next time, in a Payless store, she refused to take off the Strawberry Shortcake shoes she wanted (yes, I spoil her) and thought she was going to climb on the belt to get scanned - but there was no belt. The cashier thought I was nuts. The kid refused to take them off though, so she - I can’t believe a 2-year-old figured this out - pulled the tag off and handed it to the cashier. I thought it was hilarious but the cashier was a bit of a wanker.

The kid is too damn smart for her own good, and mine too. At the ripe old age of 2, she had already made the correlation between ice cream and money. I asked her if she wanted ice cream, and what kid doesn’t? I told her that she needed to give this money (I gave her a $5 bill) and told her to give it to Daddy and tell him to get us some ice cream. Now when she sees money, she instantly associates it with ice cream. She finds coins and brings them to me, signs “ice cream” and gets excited. She opened her birthday card the other day and there were two $1 bills in it, and she started flailing the “ice cream” sign. She even tried to hand over the money when we gave her ice cream and cake, thinking she had to pay for it.

This is a Good One

I couldn’t help myself. After I finished reading it, I just HAD to pass a link to this on, even if the thought of Bush’s genitals was protruding intruding into the deeper recesses of my subconscious (and that’s pretty fucking deep).

Gavin: This Tu-Tu's For You

Just cuz I said I would find one specifically for you. Hope you look better in it than this guy does. Now get outta here, you clown, and go entertain your wife.

PS: I think you could probably do without the shoes, my dear.

Important Lesson

No one knows our bodies better than each person themselves. The most important lesson to learn and live by is, if you know in your heart-of-hearts that something is wrong, do not give up searching until you find the answer. There IS an answer out there, but sometimes it takes a while to find if it is not staring you right in the face.

I saw the ophthalmologist today, and that was $20 actually well spent. I finally have PART of an answer: I have inflammation of the optic nerve, potentially optic neuritis, which was what I suspected from the start. I have another MRI coming up so hopefully will get the rest of the puzzle pieces soon. I don’t particularly care for the picture forming with those puzzle pieces, but having a complete picture will be a lot easier to live with, deal with, and help me move on with my life.

Can you feel my sense of relief, like a 10,000-pound weight being lifted from my broad but tired shoulders?

Gonna Get You One Way Or Another

I have been the ultimate bitch busting my ass for the past few years working to get everyone to shut off lights, stop using the dryer and dishwasher so much, and turn off the TVs when not using them and/or only have on one TV at a time instead of four, and I thought my psychotic outbursts hard work paid off when the electric bill came down from over $300 a month to about $60 a month. Also contributing to this decreased use was my mom moving out and then passing away, who had been on not one but TWO home air/oxygen machines 24/7.

Then I get a letter from the all-powerful electric company telling me that I am not using enough electricity and they want to know why, asking if the house is vacant or a seasonal property or what was up. It’s none of their fucking business, I have a right to control certain issues in my life and how much electricity I use is my business, as long as I pay the bill, WHICH I DID, so I ignore the letter.

Bad move. Next, they come out to the house and rip the meter off my house because “it became apparent that it was not registering the electric you were using” and replace it with a new one and tell me I will get a new bill. As if by magic, suddenly I get an electric bill for - hang on to your hats, nut sacks, AND wallets, folks - $401.34, based on new meter usage of 46.3 kwh a day, adjusted for 3 months.

The TVs are still off, the dryer broke and hasn’t been used in 2 months and clothes are hanging on the lines outside, the dishwasher broke and went to the dump, and there’s nothing more than 40 watt bulbs in any single light socket in the house, so where the fuck did they get that number from? I think someone’s on crack. Run the numbers, it comes up to about $130 a month, which is more than double what it had been. I think that new meter is on steroids or something, the meter-reader is on crack, and the whole electric company is trying to bleed me dry just because I decided to try to take control of matters and stop handing over wads of cash to a utility service.

It’s Blondie, all over again:

One way or another, I’m gonna find ya’
I’m gonna get ya’, get ya’, get ya’, get ya’
One way or another, I’m gonna win ya’
I’m gonna get ya’, get ya’ ,get ya’, get ya’
One way or another, I’m gonna see ya’
I’m gonna meet ya’, meet ya’, meet ya’, meet ya’
One day maybe next week, I’m gonna meet ya’
I’m gonna meet ya’, I’ll meet ya’
I will drive past your house and if the lights are all down
I’ll see who’s around
One way or another, I’m gonna find ya’
I’m gonna get ya’, get ya’, get ya’, get ya’
One way or another, I’m gonna win ya’
I’ll get ya’, I’ll get ya’
One way or another, I’m gonna see ya’
I’m gonna meet ya’, meet ya’, meet ya’, meet ya’
One day maybe next week ,I’m gonna meet ya’
I’ll meet ya’ ah
And if the lights are all out I’ll follow your bus downtown
See who’s hangin’ out
One way or another, I’m gonna lose ya’
I’m gonna give you the slip
A slip of the lip or another I’m gonna lose ya’
I’m gonna trick ya’, I’ll trick ya’
One way or another, I’m gonna lose ya’
I’m gonna trick ya’, trick ya’, trick ya’, trick ya’
One way or another, I’m gonna lose ya’
I’m gonna give you the slip
I’ll walk down the mall, stand over by the wall
Where I can see it all, find out who ya’ call
Lead you to the supermarket checkout, some specials and rat food
Get lost in the crowd
One way or another I’m gonna get ya’
I’ll get ya’
I’ll get ya’, get ya’, get ya’, get ya’
Where I can see it all, find out who ya’ call

Get a Life, Grow a Brain

This makes me sick:
Nevada couple neglects their children to the point that they were starving and have serious health problems, blaming it on the internet/video games. Again the “experts” come back to gaming addiction as a mental illness - of course. It is pathetic attempt to shift responsibility from an individual, where it should lie, to society at large. These are the kind of people that need to not only have their children removed and never returned, but permanently sterilized and branded with a great big “CA” on the middle of their foreheads, for Child Abuser. Until we make people take responsibility for their actions, things like this are going to not only continue but escalate in frequency and severity.

Finally, a GOOD Email

I got this email from a friend, and it was just too good to let it go without taking note.

Take a look at the picture above and you will see where the driver broke through the guardrail (on the right where people are standing on the road). The truck left the road, traveling from right to left, flipped end over end, across the culvert opening, and landed on the left side of it.

Now take a look at the second picture below:

And the ultimate question: If you weren’t a believer in God before, would you be after this?

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

For everyone except me, that is. This was SUPPOSED to be my week of vacation. This was SUPPOSED to be the week I packed my herd of kids and hubby and myself into the vans with all the gear and headed up to the Upper Peninsula for a week of camping. This was SUPPOSED to be a week of peace and relaxation.

Yeah, right.

After my lovely pre-July 4th episode of loss of vision in my right eye and the associated nausea, gagging, vertigo, dizziness, falling over, and now right-sided facial spasms since then, there is no time to relax because I get to go to a multitude of doctor appointments this week. You know, the appointments with the $20 copays where they tell me nothing is wrong with me. Yeah, those ones.

I get one week a year for myself and I get to spend it in various waiting rooms, waiting to hand over my cold hard cash to get yanked around some more. Hoo-ray!

It's My Pleasure

To finally share this great award with some of my fellow bloggers, schmoozers all, and all who help feed my blog addiction.

So without further ado, here we go:

Again, as stated from Twisted Sister:

“And what is the Power of Schmooze? It’s a blogging community involvement award for those bloggers who make the effort to connect and develop relationships in the blogosphere. Some leave great comments along the way, while others are faithful readers who’s presence you are aware of.”

I am happy to pass this on now to:

Becky at Tall Cool Drink of Water

Emily at Two Write Hands

Count at Count Ramblings

Sam at Temporarily Me

Diesel at Mattress Police (and no, you didn’t need to lobby for this one, Diesel, you earned it just cuz of who you are!)

Thanks so much to everyone, and feel free to proudly display your award:

Talking to the Wall

As usual. If I’ve told those kids once, I’ve told them a thousand times, stop riding bicycles down the hill. We have a totally cool hill at the end of the house going down to the patio and the kids have found that it’s perfect for running the bikes down FAST. They seem to forget to turn, though, and keep smacking into the tree at the bottom. Yeah, smart, I know.

Anyhow, after months and months of repeating myself (hence, talking to the wall), they finally decided to stop riding the bikes down the hill. I go outside and see them sitting in the back end of the Tonka dump trucks, tearing down the hill like bats out of hell. WTF? The response I get: “You didn’t say we couldn’t ride the trucks down the hill, only the bikes.”

I guess I should have been more specific. The logic of a 6-year-old, huh?

I will win this battle in the end, though. I’m sending them down to pick rocks out of my uncle’s field and we’re building terraces on the yard so there won’t BE a hill for them to violate anymore. HA HA. The logic of a 34-year-old, huh?

Thought for the Day

Hope It's No Omen

Today is Friday the 13th. Today also happens to be my 5th wedding anniversary. I’m not particularly suspicious about stuff like that, but my grandma was and would have probably beat me with a broom stick had I told her I was getting married on the 13th of any month: “You will eventually have an anniversary on a Friday,” she would have said. “So?” I would have smart-mouthed back. She was born on a Friday the 13th and had a less-than-ideal life, in her eyes, in large part due to that fact. She might have been right, having passed from this existence to the next at only 52 years of age.

I think a lot about my family history and frankly THAT is what scares the shit out of me, not Friday the 13th. My mom died at 51, one grandma at 52, the other at 45, and I’m already falling apart. What kind of scary shit did I pass on to my kids? Unfortunately, those kinds of things have nothing to do with the date on the calendar.

I’m not afraid of death or even of dying young, if that’s my lot in life. What bothers me is thinking about my children growing up without me and everything I will miss in their lives, just like I sit here wishing I could run across the driveway and show something to my own mom or call her up and tell her the latest funny thing one of the kids did or talk about something that is bothering me.

I miss my mom and I miss my grandma, superstitions and all, and there’s so much I wish I could give back to them for all that they gave to me.

APB: BOTL, Thief in Training

The boy is just too smart for my own good. The boy has figured out how to break into my office refrigerator. I heard suspicious noises but thought little of it (working) until I noticed that someone had stolen my beloved Mountain Dew. I figured it was one of the girls, since they swipe my pop (usually right from under my nose and in plain sight) from time to time, so as you can well imagine, I was mortified to learn that it was in fact THE BOY who had pilfered my magic water.

As you know, it does no good to shout to bring it back since the boy does not hear, but the floor was shaking as I stomped around looking for my caffeine fix. The boy saw (and felt) me coming and ran in the opposite direction, pop in hand. I cannot keep up so had to sit that race out but still had to laugh because I know he will not be able to get the plastic doodad off the bottles anyhow.

The boy, fleeing the scene of the crime, evidence in tow, being chased by “the authorities”:

Isn't he just the cutest thing with those little curls and that Einstein thing going on?

Second Civil War

Oh, this is a good flick. If you've not seen it, I highly recommend it. Besides a stellar cast including James Earl Jones (who is, like, the AWESOMEST actor in the history of the universe), it has a story line that just does not quit - making you think about the future of America and whether we are headed for a Second Civil War. (FYI: If you've never heard of it, this is an HBO original movie.)

I fear that is exactly where we are heading, with a number of political and social avenues merging to a central core and ultimately bringing the citizens of this country to insurrection. While I believe our form of government as envisioned by our Founding Fathers is superior, it has become bastardized and bears no semblance whatsoever to that vision.

I read this article earlier today and it brought me full circle in my thinking. Although this article, on the surface, targets healthcare reform and the FDA, it also takes a deeper poke at the corruption and abuse of power on multiple levels of government: (Emphasis mine)

“FDA reform legislation is not about Democrats vs. Republicans. It’s about the wealthy elite vs. the People. Not surprisingly, the People have once again been screwed by the representatives they foolishly voted into office. If anything, this event proves that U.S. lawmakers have no interest in protecting America’s future. They are only interested in the next election, the next career move or the next power play. In a nation devastated by degenerative disease and intoxicated by the chemicals being pushed to manage those diseases, there is no longer anyone left in power with enough sanity to reason with. The President is clinically insane, the FDA is criminally insane, and the Congress is for sale, cheap! The country has become an absurdity, where lawmakers actually bicker about how much bribery and corruption should be allowed in the FDA drug approval decision process rather than simply agreeing to ban all bribery and conflicts of interest, which is what sane lawmakers would do.

Stand back and watch the bonfire

Over the last few months, I have come to the conclusion that it is no longer worth attempting to stop American’s self-destruction at the hands of Big Pharma, corrupt politicians and greedy fractional reserve bankers. America is destroying itself, and there is no one left who’s willing to stand up and try to stop it (except, perhaps, for a few individuals like Rep. Ron Paul, but he’s effectively censored by the powers that be).

My advice to readers is to start thinking very seriously about getting out of America. What’s coming over the next 5 - 25 years will not be pretty, and I now believe the collapse of America as we know it today is inevitable. The 2008 elections will change nothing, as either party will only deliver a different form of tyranny in the end. America has devolved into a modern mirror image of the Roman Empire in its last dying days — steeped in corruption, abandoning its citizens, arrogant beyond all reason, oblivious to the world around it and wholly committed to destroying itself from within.

Congress has become a circus, and the U.S. government, through agencies like the FDA, has become the leading threat to its own people. The nation is steeped in irreversible debt, diseased, terrified, bankrupt and addicted to oil that’s running out. On top of that, thanks to Bush-contrived military imperialism, it has alienated every other nation in the world and has now become the most-hated nation on the planet. (If you don’t believe me, just travel outside the U.S. and ask practically anybody you meet. Everybody hates the U.S.) It is now only a question of how long the current crippled facade of political power will last.

The passage of this FDA reform law is merely one more sign of how thoroughly committed the U.S. Congress is to creating a future of death, disease and bankruptcy for the American people. You gotta give ‘em kudos on consistency, however. At least the lawmakers are predictable.

Welcome to the United States of Big Pharma.”

To this I would add, United States of Big Pharma, Big Banking, Big Industry, and Big Pork-Barrel Spending Without Accountability. Just imagine our tots learning to spell THAT one in school.

The embers are being stirred and it’s only a matter of time before the fires begin to rage. No matter what term you prefer, whether it be uprising, revolt, insurrection, or revolution, we can see the smoke and we all know that where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

Good Grief

You Are 7 Up

Understated and subtle, people warm up to you slowly. But once they’re hooked, they can’t imagine going back to anyone else!Your best soda match: Diet CokeStay away from: Mountain Dew

What Kind of Soda Are You?

This is hilarious. I absolutely DETEST 7-Up. You couldn’t pay me to drink the shit. I won’t touch diet pop (we call it “pop” here, not SODA) of any sort because I can’t stand the sickening over-sweetness that makes me feel like I’ve grown fur on my tongue... and STAY AWAY FROM MOUNTAIN DEW?!?!?!?!?!

ROFL. Oops, I think I PMP again.

I wouldn’t survive a single day if I couldn’t Do the Dew. I am addicted to this yellow-green carbonated, high-fructose-corn-syrup-sweetened, caffeinated magic water. It’s the stuff of life, so I’m definitely hooked. It’s better than Oreo cookies. We’re talking epiphany here, when the Dew is ice cold, from the moment it crosses the lips and races across the tongue to the throat, tickling taste buds along the way. Hell, it’s is better than sex!

I gotta go get me another one.

UPDATE: OH, yeah, and I also like how “understated and subtle” I am. In your dreams. I already know people are slow to warm up to me, because of the fact that I’m NOT understated and subtle, but the real question is: ARE YOU HOOKED?

Feeling the Love

Oh yeah, I’m feeling it all right. So much of it’s been sent my way lately that it’s given me a rather enlarged head, making it difficult not only to walk through doorways but to insert my cranium into medical scanning devices (ha ha, you thought I was going to say insert cranium into rectum, didn’t you? I got you!) after traumatizing my precious little lump of gray matter when whacking my head on said door jambs. I need to remodel the doorways now and I also need to invest in a cervical collar because my head’s gotten too big and my poor stick neck can’t support it anymore.

Anyhow, I am honored and extremely proud to have gotten another totally cool award from the completely awesome ladies of Twisted Sister, the Power of Schmooze Award. If you’re ever in need of some of the funniest stuff floating around the ether, go pay them a visit - You’ll never leave!

Just what exactly is SCHMOOZE, you ask?

“And what is the Power of Schmooze? It’s a blogging community involvement award for those bloggers who make the effort to connect and develop relationships in the blogosphere. Some leave great comments along the way, while others are faithful readers who’s presence you are aware of.”

Is this cool or what? On top of the pretty darned good day I had today, this was just the cherry on top. Thank you, thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

So now I get to pass this great award on to 5 more well-deserving bloggers, but I’m going to have to come back just a wee bit later with it since I’m a little exhausted after the busy day we had. Stay tuned!

Future of America

You gotta check this out. This is the future of America? I am frightened. Really.

How Sweet It Is

I’ve been tagged for another meme by Diamondssaphire, and she’s asking for trouble since she seems to want to know more about me, I guess.

WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? No.

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? I didn’t realize I’d stopped. I’ve been having a rough couple of weeks lately, as everyone can probably tell by the tone of the posts here lately.

DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? I used to, until the doctors started rubbing off on me and now my penmanship is as atrocious as theirs.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Ham.

DO YOU HAVE KIDS? I guess you could say that: There’s a herd of them running around here.

IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Of course, because I am awesome.

DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? NEVER, EVER, EVER *snorts like Jo*

DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yes.

WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Hell no.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Anything with sugar.

DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? The damn things are never tied to begin with, so no sense in bothering to try to untie them!

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? Depends - physically, no; emotionally, I’m the Rock, baby. I gotta be with the constant barrage of bullshit I face on a daily basis.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Chocolate.

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Forehead lines AND a smile on the mouth as well as in the eyes. If someone has a wrinkly forehead but a mouth that is screaming (not literally but figuratively) anger and their eyes have no smile, it’s a pretty good bet they’re one of those glass-half-empty people, and they make me crazy.

RED OR PINK? Hell, I don’t know.

WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? I’m an asshole and have a hard time keeping my mouth shut sometimes.

WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? Mom, who passed away 1/1/06 - happy fucking New Year.

WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? I’m barefoot, hoping that rubs off some of the myth of “barefoot and pregnant” onto my hormones and uterus, and gray maternity pants (I’m desperate, sorry. My biological clock is no longer ticking but thundering)

WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? *gag* Subway

WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? The doctor on the other end of the dictation, and I just had to stop for a few minutes cuz he was confusing me

IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Yellow, to match my sunny disposition *rofl*

FAVORITE SMELLS? Lilacs and peonies

WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? My oldest son, I think. Might have been my dad. Could have been my sister. Who knows?

FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? None.

HAIR COLOR[S]? Shit-brindle brown.

EYE COLOR? Dark brown.

DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? No.

FAVORITE FOOD? Oh, this is easy: Those lover-ly pastries made with phyllo dough and filled with Holland cream - don’t ask me what they’re called cuz I can eat one before the name is out and then I’m too busy having a sugar rush, all the while knowing the grease in the cream is clogging up a few more coronary arteries.

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? I wouldn’t know. I haven’t watched a movie in a long time that I was able to sit through without falling asleep 12 minutes into it

LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? We watch Robots - ALL. THE. TIME.

WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? Purple and gray

SUMMER OR WINTER? I don’t get to enjoy seasons anymore since I’m chained to a desk so I no longer have an opinion, but probably summer because I don’t have to stand outside freezing my tits off when I smoke a cigarette.

HUGS OR KISSES? I don’t really like to be touched, except by my DH and my kids of course, and baby butterfly kisses are the best.

FAVORITE DESSERT? See above.

WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? I don’t have time for books anymore.

WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? Nothing - it’s just a plain gray one.

WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? I couldn’t say, since I fell asleep before the opening credits were finished.

FAVORITE SOUND[S]? My babies laughing.

ROLLING STONES OR THE BEATLES? Stones

WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Some shit-hole in Wisconsin.

DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? Patience for stupid people

WHERE WERE YOU BORN? I was born. . . in Saginaw, Michigan (just like Lefty’s song)

WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK? Oh this is tough, but I’d have to say Ann and Dawn, two of my favorite Twisted Sisters!

I *KNEW* I Was Worth More Dead Than Alive!

Someone needs to be bumping me off, I guess. Then hubby-man could get the new fridge we need. Hell, he'd have enough for a stove, too!

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My Little Friend

I couldn't help but chuckle a bit at Karly's little bug issue. Sorry, hon, but that's nothing compared to the little visitors we get from time to time. This was our recreation for the evening last night, chasing this little humper around the house:


When we got the house a few years ago, we found out the hard way just how much damage these little buggers can do and it took a lot of money, time, money, effort, and did I mention MONEY to get their nastiness cleaned up and get the house sealed up so they couldn't get back in. We took out all the drop-tile ceilings and replaced them with drywall. We replaced all the insulation and plastic sheeting. We sealed the rafters and peaks of the roof. We had to wear frigging face masks and biohazard suits to clean up their shit, and it was gross. Several weeks and thousands of dollars later, we thought we had won the battle.

We were wrong.

After finding myself broke from the cleanup and remodeling, and really just not thinking about it, I forgot to get screens for the windows. It's summer, it's hot, and the windows are open to catch the cool summer breeze or the crisp night air - and a few moths, fireflies, lady bugs, bumblebees, a couple of birds, and this little bastard.

He quickly went to work terrorizing the shit out of my baby girl, who was running around shrieking "butterfly." At first I thought it was no big deal, since she calls moths "butterflies" and there are always moths escaping the great outdoors for the comfort and privacy of our home. When she came tearing into my bedroom at Mach II, screaming butterfly and flapping her arms (which is NOT the sign for butterfly), I knew something was up. I was promptly dive-bombed in the hallway before this little bugger roosted on the wall of the stairwell, where we could easily put a bowl over him, scoop him up and let him go outside.

Now, had it been hubby-man or one of the boys handling this, they would have chased it down with a broom or shoe and beat it to death, screaming "motherfucker" (that's the only word hubby-man speaks that comes out sounding like it's supposed to), with an occasional "eeeeewwww" thrown in for good measure. Myself, I don't like killing anything (except flies, which are dirty, and mosquitoes, who seem to love my anemic blood) and will set them free. Bats EAT mosquitoes, so all the better to let them do their jobs so I don't have to do it for them.

So, that's the extent of our fun for the night last night, and thanks to my new camera I got a picture to show. Next time a bird flies in the window, I'm gonna get a VIDEO of that, since it's totally hilarious, watching a bird fly around in circles in the living room!

Maybe I should just buy some screens, but then what fun would that be and how would I get my entertainment then?

Raising Awareness: Autism

I've recently seen commercials on television stating that a child's chances of developing autism are about 1 in 166; according to CDC report earlier this year, that figure has risen to about 1 in 150 children.

What is autism? There are several disorders which fall under the umbrella of autism spectrum disorders, including classical autism, Asperger syndrome, Rhett syndrome, and others. These are usually determined by the behaviors the child exhibits in conjunction with a number of tests to rule out other causes and can be mild to severe. These children generally have limited social functioning and language skills, but we all need to remember that this does not necessarily mean they are cognitively impaired. A few common indicators of autism, which should be discussed with the child's pediatrician during the various stages of a child's development, include:

• Indifference to or refusal to accept physical contact (i.e., cuddling).
  
• Failure to respond to name and/or poorly developed receptive/expressive language skills.
  
• Intent concentration on a single object while ignoring other surroundings.
• Self-injurious behavior (head-banging, picking) or repetitive motions (rocking, spinning).

Early diagnosis and treatment is key to assuring these children have the best chances for a more normal future. There is no cure for autism, but we need to do everything in our power to give them that chance. Family history plays an important role in diagnosing autism. Other possible causes of some autism-type behaviors need to be ruled out, such as hearing impairment or chromosomal abnormalities. The most important part of treatment for an autistic child, once a diagnosis is ascertained, is refusing to give up on them. These are frequently normally cognitive individuals trapped inside a mind that will not allow them to express themselves in a way that others can understand.

My Change of Heart

In dealing with members of the medical community over the past 11 months, I have had a change of heart. I no longer want to be a Physician Assistant. I do not feel I can become a member of this community with any of the positive feelings I once had for the profession and that of its parent profession, the physician. I cannot put myself into a position of demanding respect when I have so little for some of those who have "touched my life" in recent months. It was difficult coming to this decision but something I think is for the best in the long run. I love to buck the system, be radical and try to effect positive changes in ANY system I think needs improvement, but I just don't have enough energy, willpower, or fight left in me for this particular battle.

I had actually been pondering this for a while now, but it was cemented after a visit to the emergency room in the wee hours this morning. After losing a significant portion of my field of vision in my right eye with painful eye movements, vertigo, nausea, vomiting, and a catastrophic headache, a handful of basic tests were performed and I was told there was nothing "severe" wrong with me.

Your diagnosis: You have a headache. Yes, that is exactly what my discharge paperwork says. I probably would never have figured that out on my own and I have been gobbling down 4000 mg of acetaminophen a day as a dietary supplement.

Return if you have a significant change or worsening of symptoms. Why? So you can charge me some more money to tell me again that there is nothing wrong with me? No thanks. I came to you once because of "a significant change or worsening of symptoms" and you did nothing the first time; do you honestly think I am stupid enough to fall for that one twice?

Please contact your primary care provider for further follow-up. It is a vicious circle:

• Copay $20 to internal medicine/PA: "I don't know what the problem is, let's run some tests and you have to come back in a couple of weeks."
• Copay $20 to internal medicine/PA (two weeks later): It's all in your head, you need to see a psychiatrist." (I ranted about this one before.)
  
• Copay $20 to neurologist (six weeks later): "Let's run some more tests."
• Copay $20 to neurologist (two weeks later): "You have a syrinx but it's small and shouldn't be causing your symptoms. Let's run some more tests and send you to a neurosurgeon."
• Copay $20 to neurosurgeon: "Your syrinx is too small to operate, we just need to monitor it and can do surgery when it's larger. Go back and see your neurologist."
  
• Copay $20 to family practice physician to become established in his practice: "Let's see what the neurologist says."
• Copay $20 to neurologist: "Let's send you to Cleveland Clinic."
• Copay $20 to specialist neurologist at Cleveland: "We don't know what's causing your problem, let's run some more tests and then you can follow up with your local neurologist."

That next appointment with my neurologist is 3 weeks away, and the tests recommended by the specialist will not be ordered BEFORE that appointment, so there is another $20 copay for that visit and then another $20 copay for a second to get the results of the tests that need to be ordered, all spanning an additional 6 weeks. I have a crisis in the meantime and go to the emergency room ($50 copay), only to be told they don't know what the problem is and I need to see my primary care provider and my neurologist.

So. . . That is $190 out of my pocket so far for office visit copays (that doesn't count deductibles and copays on testing, just office visits, plus lost time from work) and I still have no hope of securing a diagnosis and am just being referred in circles, all the while worsening in my condition. Why is it that when a doctor doesn't come up with a straight and simple answer in the first 5 minutes, they just give up?

In my final buck before giving up and floating away into the distance, I scheduled an appointment on my own to see an ophthalmologist (another $20 copay), 10 days away. If he cannot help me find an answer, I am done trying to find it. Now I understand why so many patients with chronic illnesses frequently suffer from depression: The medical profession forces it on them and patients just get discouraged and tired of hearing over and over "I don't know." I can handle an "I DON'T KNOW," as long as it is accompanied by "BUT I WILL WORK TO FIND THE ANSWER." I have yet to hear that.

This Just Makes My Blood Boil

Whatever happened to compassion? And it isn't even in New York but Wichita, Kansas:
People step over a stabbing victim in a store, and one even stops long enough to take her picture with a cell phone, but no one helps her. Of course, the woman died. What is wrong with people? It's not bad enough that you just walk over top of her and leave her there to die, you need to TAKE A FUCKING PICTURE?

New Drug Deletes Bad Memories:
Get the fuck out of people's heads, already. Our memories are a part of who we ARE, and if you take them away, painful or wonderful, good or bad or traumatic or whatever label you want to use, you are removing a part of US. Psychiatrists are barbaric mother-fuckers, first frying people's brains with electroshock therapy; this is just a more "humane" attempt at achieving the same result. Stop paying these witch doctors to fuck people up more than they already are, for pity's sake!

Leave Fireworks to the Pros:
I have two words for you - EAT ME. You bitch and moan about children being harmed by fireworks but fail to address the fact that this issue is entirely related to personal responsibility. Yes, accidents can happen to even the most careful, responsible adults and it's heartbreaking and traumatic to everyone involved when a child is hurt, but don't feed us some happy horse shit that we need to leave it to the "pros." How many times have people been hurt and even killed at these "professional" shows, and not just a single child but LARGE NUMBERS OF THE CROWD? I know this after watching the news reporting on the horrors of a "professional" fireworks accident in Bay City, Michigan, in 1990.

OK, I'm done being pissed for a little while.

Thank You

I've been a wee bit wrapped up in feeling sorry for myself lately and just wanted to let you all know how much I appreciate you folks coming by and listening to me spew, for your support, and just for being my friends. Thank you to my friends and regular readers, thank you to everyone who has come on over here completely by accident, and thank you to those who have just come to rubberneck at the train wreck that is my life these days. You'll be back - curiosity always wins!

Thank you all, for everything. (((((BIG HUGS)))) to all.

Thinking AND Rockin

JUMPIN' G.W. ON A POGO STICK!

I'm multi-talented!

I make people "think," (thank you again, Christy), which can truly be considered a feat in this day and age, knowing how useless some of the walking, talking piles of feces on this planet are that are consuming good oxygen the rest of us could be putting to better use. I also "rock." I am just so proud of myself. After doing all that, working 100+ hours a week at 4 different jobs and juggling a house, a husband (who is a full-time job all unto himself), health issues, and SIX KIDS.....holy shit, am I ever tired.

Yes, this has a point. The point is, my notorious blogger-sis Jo (yes, I've adopted you, my dear) of Life With Heathens fame has given me yet another award I am proud to display:


The hardest part of handing these back out is not finding someone to pass them on to, it is narrowing the list down of who you want to give them to, since there are just too many to choose from. Makes my head hurt. I thought I was supposed to make YOU think, not the other way around.

Damn, there goes G.W. on his pogo stick again. Oh, look, I think I see Cheney's ass right behind him, taking pot shots at G.W. with a shotgun.

Anyhow. Back on track and quit being a flake, Angie. I now proudly pass this totally awesome HOT PINK award and also totally awesome PURDY BLUE award on to four well-deserving girls and one guy:


My other dear blogger-sis (yes, I've adopted you as well) Paisley from ......Why Paisley????? I just can't help myself. You NEED one of these flashy hot pink awards that just screams at everyone viewing your blog. I said so, and I am the boss and I am always right (really, I am).

Annie from One Thing I HATE About Today, who gives me a dose of my own favorite kind of medicine and who's photos have inspired me to buy my very first digital camera 4 days ago so I can capture candid moments of my neighbors running around half naked, shoveling dirt piles, while the neighbors stare in horror.

Mothergoosemouse, who won my heart the instant I found out she hated bras as much as I do. Yeah. Don't bother buying them, hon, just throw them all away. I did.

Diamondssaphire of Nonsense, Fun, Tears, Happiness, and Anger All Rolled into One cuz she's just as "independent and opinionated" as I am, and oh, how I love that trait in my fellow bloggers!

Darius from Diary of a Poor Black Man. He calls 'em as he sees 'em and I love him for it. He's not afraid to stir the turd so he's just like me, only he's, well, a GUY.

Thanks to all you folks, for not just entertaining me and/or keeping me pondering the answer to the question of life, the universe, and everything (which is 42, if you didn't know), but especially for not letting me feel sorry for myself since I just don't have time for that and need a clone or twelve to keep up with reading all your great stuff. And one to do the work. I'm getting a little tired of that, too. I would also like to have one to deal with DH when he's busy being A MAN.

Our Faith Is Challenged

"Our faith is challenged by what's going on." Bishop F. Josephus Johnson II

Saturday was the day that Jessie Davis was laid to rest. We will not forget you, Jessie and Chloe, nor you little Blake.

My faith in God is not challenged, but my faith in mankind certainly is. As long as we continue to promote our "me" society, there will be no room for "we," and that is truly a shame.

Every person must decide whether to walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness. This is the judgment. Life's most persistent and urgent question is, 'What are you doing for others?'
-Martin Luther King, Jr.