Welcome to My Well

I say: "I live in a well".

You say: "You live in a well, what?"

I say: "Not a, well, what. A WELL! A deep, dark, dank, hole in the friggin earth. GEEZZ. I'm trying to tell you that I live in depression most of the time and I HATE, HATE, HATE it".

You say:  "Really, dearie, what have you got to be depressed about. It's a beautiful day, you have clothes on your back, food to spare, even a little chocolate in the pantry. None of your children are in prison and whom most of the time don't hate you, you have a car that runs and has gasoline in it and you have an appointment for a massage later in the week. What in the world do you have to be depressed about?"

I say: "You're right. I don't know what's wrong with me. I guess I just friggin woke up this morning and said, 'Dear God, Could you please, please, please grant me just one or two more days of feeling like crap'? And, who knew that finally, a prayer would be answered. Don't you know anything about REAL depression, the kind that even though your life seems perfect, you still want to lie in the middle of the road and pretend you are a speed bump"?

You say: "Oh, stop with the 'Oh poor me' garbage. You don't know anything when it comes to being down. I'll tell you right now, I've got problems you can't even imagine. In fact, I've been meaning to tell you about BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH...."

I say: "How on earth do you think that unloading your woes on me is the key to unlocking my deep and apparently misplaced happiness"?

You say: "Oh, I get it. It's all about you. Well, little Miss The World Hates Me, I'll tell you what you need....You need... uhhh, you need.....Prozac! I have a friend who takes Prozac and she tells me her life is exceptional now, except she can't have an orgasm and she's at high risk for, oh, I don't know, lots of stuff, but she doesn't care because she's having so much fun except for the orgasm part. She spends alot of her time shopping now...AT...THE...MALL where before she just sat and shopped off of QVC or something like that, whatever you get on cable, but now, she just hops in her little car and off to the mall she goes, happy as a little lark. I can call her if you want and and find out who her supplier, I mean, who her doctor is. What do you say?"

I say: "You are too kind, but I already take antidepressants and believe it or not, I do feel better than I did before I took them but I was hoping for better than this. So, now you know. Not only am I a former probationer, I am also a druggie. "

You say: "Well, no wonder you are depressed. I bet you haven't had an orgasm in a long time either. Poor, baby. I have a friend who just bought the most amazing viberator, or so she says, from Brookstone, you know the little place in the mall where they sell funky stuff at Christmas"?

I say: "Really? You have a friend? How on earth did you manage that....no, wait, I think I'd rather shoot myself  than hear about it".

You say: "Hello.....Hello.....Are you still there? Guess not. Oh my, look at the time, my story is just about to start".

Well, only twenty four hours to go before I am officially off of probation. I am trying to figure out what I might want to do to celebrate. I can hardly remember the time when I could just mindlessly drive through Rambo's territory without tension in my shoulders and a knot in my gut. Come to think of it those symptoms didn't begin with him. I think I was born with knotted shoulder and gut syndrome. I don't want to give Rambo more credit than he is due. His sort is better compared to the annoying fly over the potato salad at a picnic.

If you read earlier blogs concerning my disdain for this particular Rambo, you may recall that I threatened to stop supporting the 100 Club as a way to treat that particular solicitation with the same consideration as all the other solicitations that I receive on a daily basis given this guy was so into fairness and all. Well, I also said that I was basically a weeny and would probably back down. So, I have come up with a compromise that I can live with and I am sure the 100 Club can live with also.  I have decided to withhold the donations until the amount of money that was spent on lawyers, court costs, tickets and etc. have equalled the amount I would have given to "the club". I will instead send what would have been "their" money to someone who doesn't not pack a gun (radar or otherwise) and hide in the bushes or behind tress looking for law breakers.

Do not misunderstand me, I have great respect for meaningful law enforcement. I believe there are some really bad people in the world who intend to do really bad things to other people given the opportunity and I want all the Rambo's of the world to be prepared to handle the situation.  Driving 6 miles over the speed limit, however does not fit the really bad person profile in my opinion. But, you never know, I think it was a broken tail light that got the Oklahoma bomber pulled over...what were the chances.

Easy To Assemble

It is day two of trying to assembling the grill that brags about taking just two hours. It occurs to me that these estimates are for people who have controlled bladders, no phone calls, do not have to cook supper, nor do they have four dogs trying to help. Nor do they have a pool that is an instruction manual magnet and futhermore, they are people who know where they last left at least one of sixteen pair of  "reading" glasses. O.K., I have exaggerated, if not outright lied about a lot of this. If I were to try to assemble the new grill, the later would be my story, instead, my dear companion has assembled the grill in order to spare me and him all of the above and a beautiful job he has done and a beautiful grill it is. I instead watched through the open back door and swatted flies and mosquitoes while reading messages about all of the updates that needed to occur on the computer, each of course needing to "restart" after downloading. This computer requires more updating than a hormonal teenager's wardrobe.

I offered my opinion that I should have been born in the future when all this computer business was better developed. I want one that when I want to use it, has already installed all of the updates, restarted how ever many times it needs to restart, have the page opened to where I want to be opened and a hot (or cold) cup or glass of tea waiting for me when I sit down. My partner informed me that I didn't have to wait for such accommodation, that it already exists. Good grief, I yelled, how did I miss buying whatever it is that does all of that? He told me " you don't buy it, you hire it. It's called a 'secretary' but like most unmarried women in search of a mate say about men, 'the good ones are usually already taken' and they should add that they don't come cheap and rarely on sale". Killjoy. I just love a sale.

Don't Leave Home Without It

A few days ago, on my blog, I said something like, it could be worse....Well, turns out for once I was right. I cannot imagine what I did with my American Express Card. Now, where in the world would I even have used the dang thing in the past week or month? It is not like it can be used in a hospital vending machine to discover that whatever item to be purchased was sold out weeks ago. No, that takes cash that will not be returned regardless of whether the refund button is pushed, shoved, cursed or otherwise attacked. That brings me back to what could I have done with the dang thing? Focus....I need ice cream.

Maybe it (the American Express Card) is hiding out with my pajama top that I haven't found yet or with two pieces of jewelry that I know has to be here somewhere. A ring and a pendant that would not have been worn together. The ring was gold with mystic topaz that my partner had made for me years ago and I love it so I know I didn't give it away or anything like that. The pendant is a big silver sun burst with a red coral center and is on an omega chain came from Matzatlan, Mexico. We were in Matzatlan because we couldn't get a room in our time share in Cabo San Lucas. On that trip we bought yet another time share that we have yet to stay in. I forget how many time share properties we have now but regardless, we have not stayed in any of them. I know we have a "home" propery in Las Vegas. We get bills for it all the time. Our daughter tells us it's lovely. We did stay two nights in one time share in San Franscisco before getting a call about an emergancy that required our returning home 5 days early. I wonder if my jewelry is in San Francisco. I doubt it. The ring, like I said is gold and the pendant is silver. I usually decide if it is going to be a "gold" or a "silver" trip before I pack and don't mix the two in order to keep it simple. Simplicity is critical for me to keep organized. But, apparently it's not working out so well lately because I keep wondering what I might have done with, most recently, my American Express Card, for example.

I have tried back-tracking. Today for example is when I discovered it missing. First stop, therapist. Paid with Mastercard. Second stop, psychiatrist. Paid with check after discovering that my American Express Card was missing.  So, what did I do the day before?  Didn't leave the house. The day before that? Brought partner home from hospital....vending machine episode. The days before that..ICU, ER, and back and back and back and I have do danged idea what I might have done with the dang thing. I give up, I am going to bed. Good grief, did I ever take the ice cream out of the microwave?

Tomorrow, massage and hair day. Reminder to self. Self, take your Master Card because you still haven't figured out what you did with the American Express Card. It is so tiring being me.

Fractions Can Kill

Time drags when you're not having fun. Last week was a month ago maybe longer. My partner, who had been very helpful on particular morning last week, left for an appointment actually while I was writing my last blog entry. So, still in my pajamas, I was sitting in the breakfast room typing away as he departed. Half an hour later, the phone rang and the person on the other end of the phone told me that something seemed very wrong with my partner's behavior and that I needed to either pick him up immediately or an ambulance needed to be dispatched. I have had similar calls from high school principals when the kids were younger but this was the first one in thirty years that I had received about my partner and the tone of voice sounded really different than the principals' had.

I tore through the house grabbing a pair of jeans and a shirt...stopped to brush my teeth...then flew out of the door and jumped in my terrorist mobile and headed to the location where my partner was, without exceeding the posted speed limits, because I AM still on probation you know. O.K., maybe I broke the terms of my probation and sped a little, but, I didn't get caught. (snicker, smirk). I arrived at the destination 12 minutes later. Interestingly, I have yet to find my pajama top since that morning. Oh well. Surely it will turn up.

It was pretty obvious that my partner was in the throws of having a stroke. Fortunately, there was a hospital across the street from where he was so we drove across the street and were in the ER very quickly. The ER had been alerted and people were swarming us when we walked in. Yes, he could walk without impairment but speech was very delayed. Those folks had my partner rolling down the hall and into the Cat Scan room probably less than 10 minutes later and had him back in the ER before I could run to the restroom. Approximately 14,000 questions later, and within the critical three hour window of response time, it was determined that he was a candidate for the super-duper mighty- mega clot buster drug that is thought to help stop the damage a brain that is partially dying can reek upon a person.

The administration of such a medication must done by someone who possesses at least the skills required to balance their own check book. It involves arithmetic. Knowing how to calculate 10% of a number is beneficial. It took three people to check and recheck that 10% of 90mg still equals 9mg. That was important because 10% of the drug was to be administered in the first 59 seconds so calibrating the rate of the drip into the IV to achieve the precision was more challenging. In the meantime the clock was going tick, tick, tick.  That was just step one. Step two brought on a huddle by the same team who after the triple checking deduced the remainder of the dose was in fact 91% of the 90mg dosage. That remaining portion was to begin immediately following the 10% and was to be administered exactly within the next 59 minutes. I was extremely helpful in calculating the percentages. I had lots of practice figuring out "how much tip" and what 33% off of regular price plus 18% interest on the credit card was at the local department store, for example. I had no clue as to how to divide all of that up into incremental drips on an IV however.  So, when your kid asks you why he or she needs to know fractions you can tell the little creep that it is fractions that seem to help keep people alive and motivated, other than that, probably no reason unless of course they want to double or half a recipe.

ICU was another place where numbers, whole and fractal, and seconds are important. ICU was a great microcasmic demonstration of chaos theory. It was amazing how a very calm recorded voice suggesting the "Critical Response Team to Room 303, please" threw an entire unit into a frenzy that resembled 4:00 AM on Black Friday at WalMart when the advertisement said that 2  black and white 15" televisions would be sold for just $39.99 (no rain checks). There was the occasional overheard protest of someone saying, "I'm not going until she says 'please'" and another saying "She DID say 'please'" and the first person saying something like, "O.K. then, if you say so but I didn't hear her and that's the second time today and I'm getting tired of her attitude".

Being at a hospital is counter productive to most people, but that is so magnified for a stroke survivor when every thing about a hospital is conducive to promoting a stroke or heart attack for the survivor and any of his or her family and visitors. I think they may intentionally promote stroke and heart attack to ensure job security. Maybe not. But calling someone at home from ICU at 12:30 AM to inform that their loved one as been moved to another room supports my suspicion.

The really great news is, my partner is now home and doing very well. It appears he is well on his way to making a full recovery. He has had good company, good food, lots of phone calls and emails (all sent to me) to inquire about his status and is seemingly close to being back to being his old self (no pun intended). I on the other hand, am very busy fielding phone calls, answering emails, cooking healthy food, greeting guests, emptying garbage cans, catching up on back laundry and getting personalized calls with helpful suggestions like, "Don't forget to take care of yourself". Right. I will. In fact, I am going to take the first 59 seconds of the upcoming hour to to take care of 10% of myself and then use the next 59 minutes taking care of 90% of everything else that I can squeeze into the hour. Thank goodness there are only 24 hours in a day and a HUGE thank goodness that I still have someone I can take care of whether he likes it or not! I think I can eat a donut in 59 seconds while I figure out something healthy to fix for supper. "Chow"...or something like that.

Driving Miss Dingy

It has been five days since my last post. It could be worse. It could be five days since a lot of more important stuff, like necessary bodily functions or since I last heard from my partner or since I lost my wallet with all my credit cards. Now that I think about it, if I had not heard my partner and my wallet with all my credit cards were missing for five days it would be something I probably should check into. I'll put that somewhere on the "to do" list.

Since my last post, something huge has happened. Windows 7 did get installed on one of the computers. Mind you, this was not until additional software was purchased to update some 31 drivers on the machine to be impaled by Windows 7. Seems the new and improved software (7) was complaining about the existing "drivers"(whatever they are) being old,outdated,and  incompatible. No matter what I tried, it wasn't enough and it didn't work.  It was like listening to someone from a former life griping about me some thirty odd years ago.  Nevermind that that person had a software problem of their own, but that's another story. Now, how does this fit with having the two week or more saga with purchasing the NEW portable hard drive? I have no clue. With all the drives and drivers, there is a real traffic jam somewhere that needs addressing.

 With help (and I mean lots) from my current and  much more reasonable partner, the dang thing is installed. I guess I'm happy. I am still getting error messages and access denied messages and GFY messages that I probably should care about but when I killed the mouse the last time I slammed it on the desk, I decided maybe I care too much and perhaps ought to wait until I have more control before trying again to move forward. I have forgotten now why I wanted 7 and I expect that 8 will be marketed in the morning. "Vista" now is what is should be, a sign on the side of the road telling one that a scenic outlook in 1 mile is going to be raced by without stopping unless of course I am the old, outdated and incompatible driver.

Tomorrow is another day. One where an airconditioner repairman is to be at the front door at 8:00 AM. Seems some computerized part has malfunctioned. Bill Gates, I would fear karma if I were you.

Don't Mess with a Traffic Terrorist

This has already been a very busy day. I was running late for my massage appointment for reasons I cannot explain. Really, I don't know where the time went this morning before panic set in to get to where I needed to go. It's not like I can speed through town because I am still on probation from the last time I sped through the equivalent of Red Square. While somewhere, theoretically, a bank was being robbed and a woman raped and family violence was involving children and elderly was waiting for police intervention, I was being written up for having raced by a motorcycle cop who clocked me at six miles per hour over the posted speed limit. That would have saved me roughly 30 seconds total travel time on a miraculous day since none the of the traffic lights, which are placed about 30 yards apart, are synchronized in Pasadena. Never mind that I was trying to change lanes in order to turn at the next intersection.

Officer Anti-friendly swaggerd his plump body over to my window and when asked, explained to me he couldn't just give me a warning because that wouldn't be fair to all the other people he expected to pull over later. He said he was committed to treating everybody the same. So, I decided I too would become committed to same values. The next time I am solicited for funds for anything for the police department, I will throw it in the trash with all the other solicitations. After all, you shouldn't mess with someone who is clearly a threat to national security, right? I am a life-time member of the 100 club which probably worked against me. That 100 club sticker probably made the guy think I'd already given all I planned to give. He was wrong then, but he'll be right next time...maybe, but I doubt it. I am a wimp at heart and I really do care about surviving children and spouses, even those of jerks.

The ticket cost my partner lots of money. I hired an attorney to go to court for me because frankly, I didn't want to go and hiring an attorney ensured that I wouldn't have to. The lawyer cost $85. He got the hearing reset for a couple of months later and went for me again because my desire to sit in a courtroom with seriously committed felons had not changed and the $85 covered this lawyer's fees for the duration of the inconvenience. The lawyer suggested I let him ask the court for probation and that way I wouldn't have to take that mockery of a driving class that would also let me save 10% on my car insurance once it was completed, and, I could still keep the ticket off of my driving record provided I didn't break the rules of my 3 month probation. After October 4th, I can resume my crazy reckless driving antics.

The terms of this 3 month probation require me to receive no traffic tickets issued  in the city of Pasadena by Pasadena police. A ticket by a constable is O.K. It doesn't count against my probation. However, if I get a second traffic ticket by any Pasadena Rambo within the 3 months, and even if I contest it, the probation is breached regardless of the outcome of the contest  I guess at that point, you get a life sentence. I know for sure the ticket goes on your driving record for the whole world to gaze upon and snicker. I think you have to pay the ticket too if I recall correctly. More importantly, I have friends who are looking over the shoulder with fear of being recognized while eating lunch with a probationer. Some insist on keeping a bag over their heads when they are with me. It is a humbling experience. The stress of it all has made me need massages more often which means traveling through Red Square more often which means endangering the citizens of the commnity more often. The cops never seem to consider the unintended consequences of their actions. I did have to run, but slowly, by the court house, to pay court costs and something else that ran about $300. I am hoping the cop realizes that karma can be his friend....or NOT.

Thankfully, I have a partner who understands and has the funds to spare me the necessity of having to sit through "Comedy Driving School" in person or on the computer, or whatever it is that people do now to get the required diploma.  It had been about 25 years or more since I had gotten caught being a driving terrorist before this time. The "gotcha" fun for me is that a month or so after being on probation, I was having my vehicle washed and detailed when the washer-detailer person came and got me and said, "Did you know that your inspection sticker expired back in January?" Of course I didn't know but I love that the cop missed the opportunity to really rake me over the coals for being not only a terrorist, but a negligent terrorist to boot! It made me smile all under.

More is coming. I did get by the WRH2SU store and bought something. Again. I'll know more later about what I bought and I also got by the local bookstore and got a pocket dictionary. I may need now to go buy reading glasses because the print in that dictionary book keeps shifting around. However, I think the cover said something about it making words "come alive". Spooky.

Thank goodness I am done for the day except for trying to figure out what to feed my partner that the dogs will also like. It never ends.....well, I guess that's not really true either. It clearly ends at some point. Cheery thought.