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Archive for the ‘Reasons I’ll need Therapy’ Category

My name is Sheryl and I am an addict.  I am so addicted to http://thebloggess.com/.

 

The Bloggess blog

If you haven't read it, you must!

I check about six times a day for a new post from her.  Should she go three days without posting, I am ready to write and see if she is okay or not?  I am stalking addicted.

I have even developed a ritual for her posts.  I savor read it to myself first, then I read it outloud to husband, while trying not to laugh so hard I fall off my chair, then I post it to facebook.  Then, I get to read all the neat comments I get from my daughter and others who also find her hysterical.

Now if my mind just worked that way, maybe I would post more regularly.

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Every time my mother has felt ill, she has reminded me that she has written her obituary and it is in the computer.

The woman has had two strokes, two TIA’s,  breast cancer, and a total of 24 surgeries or procedures in her 89 1/2 years of life.  She has about everything wrong with her heart that can be and the 24th procedure was this month.  So, you can well imagine that I have kept that thought in my mind:  “My obituary is in the computer.”

We thought she was having a third heart attack for the month and took her into the emergency room in intense pain.  Luckily, and I say this with all my heart, she got a good physician (this time) in the ER.  Last time she was in (this month) she was in for six hours and had a second chest x-ray after three hours because they just realized it was blurry.   This doc knew right away that he was not dealing with a heart attack and ordered an MRI on her abdomen.

They found a larger gall stone had fallen into a duct and was blocking the area between her liver and intestines.  Her liver was enlarged.  She was in immense pain and in an ambulance some 50 miles to Indiana University Medical Center.

We have spent most of our time since at Indiana Medical Center and found it to be the best, ABSOLUTE BEST, bunch of nurses, student nurses, doctors, interns, cleaning staff, people on earth.  The one ‘poor quality’ nurse really stood out after seeing so many who rushed in to help her to the bathroom just because they heard her tell us she was going to need to go soon.  She rarely had to push a button.

We were told that she had two options and neither was good.  If they did not do surgery she would die and if they did surgery, there was a 70% chance she would die.  That night, when I went back to her apartment to pick up some things for her, I turned on the computer and looked for her obituary.  I had already grabbed the name of the mortuary.

There was NO OBITUARY.  What there was, was a read-only file called obituary.  I did not tell mom that this document, that I presumed she had worked on so hard, was blank.

Ten days, a PIC line (which is a line they put in after no one can bear to stick her again since her blood clots in the needles anymore), and a procedure later, she was recovering and I got up the nerve to tell her about the missing file.  Her response:

“Oh, I know that.  I haven’t written it yet.”

WTF, is she just playing with my head?

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Conversation with mother (age 89) yesterday, after she had a heart attack in the morning and fell in the evening and was doped up on painkillers.

Setting: Her apartment.  I’m trying to get her tucked into bed.

MOM: You need to move that fan.

ME:  You want it closer?

MOM:  and close that window.

ME: You love the evening breeze on you.  It’s not going to rain so why not just enjoy the open window?

MOM: Because you are going to yell at me about the stuff.

ME:  “What stuff?”

MOM:  You know, the wet stuff.

ME: (pause)  Not really sure I know what wet stuff you are talking about; let alone when have I yelled at you.

MOM:  It gets damp and you yell at me because I’m not turning on the air-conditioner.

ME:  OHHHH!  When it is 98 degrees out, at 2pm, and really humid and you are sitting in your apartment panting, and having trouble breathing, because of your COPD, yes, I want you to close the window and turn on the air-conditioning.  But, it’s night out now and dry and there’s this nice cool breeze.  So, why not enjoy it?  You love sleeping with the windows open.

MOM:  Okay!

By this time, she is almost in bed.

Two seconds later, as she has all of her medicines and her cold water to drink.

MOM:   You need to move that fan.

ME: (foolishly thinking this issue was settled)   Why do you want the fan moved.

MOM: Because you are going to yell at me about the water.

ME:  If you are talking about the humidity, I only worry about it when you are having trouble breathing during the day.  But, it’s a nice cool night and you like the window open.

Mom is now tucked in and as I am turning out the lights, I hear,

MOM:  You need to move that fan.

ME:  Good night, mom.  Sweet dreams.

About about fans and windows, I’m sure.

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Husband has a faulty electrical energy field.  Watches break within minutes of him wearing  them, answering machines stop working, clocks run backward.  There is no end to the mayhem that is my husband.

Once, he went to pick up a brand new refrigerator and by the time he got it home, the only side that was not scratched, dented   or banged was the BACK!  THE BACK!  For crying out loud, couldn’t he have let me have one side???

So, when he was finally given a cell phone (he was the last  to receive one in the family and we were all in trepidation over the gravity of giving him a cell phone), we all held our breath to see what would happen.

It didn’t take long for the phone to fight back.  It repeatedly talks to him when he pulls it out of his pocket to see what time it is.   (Since he cannot wear a watch.)

PHONE:   “Do a command.”

Husband fumbles with buttons.

PHONE:  “DO A COMMAND!”

Husband opens and closes lid.

PHONE:  “LIKE, Call home!”

Okay, his phone is obviously “like, a valley girl.”

Husband begins pushing buttons.

PHONE:  “Calling Home.”

Me:  “Hi.  Whatcha’ want?”

Husband:  “I wanted to know what time it was.”

Me: Pause.  “Ah, if you open the lid of your phone you will see what time it is.”

Husband:  “That’s what you think!”

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I would love to have natural humor in my writing.

My humor is of the more dry kind.  Someone is having a conversation and I pop in with a blatently obvious observation that no one else will dare to say.

Okay, example:  I graduated from the School of the (Museum) of the Art Institute of Chicago.  You study all forms of art, 2-D, 3-D, 4-D, etc.  We had attended a show of some performance art, where a young man is naked in a cage and trying to pleasure himself.  (It is the Art Institute); lots of naked, lots of angst.  The class was discussing the ‘purpose’ of the performance and what we learned from it.  I, one of the older students, opens my mouth and out pops, “That it’s harder to come in public than you think.”

To me, it was just one of those rules of nature that everyone should know, but the class spent the next five minutes ROFLOL.  (See, I’m not as old as you think.)

Often, when I say these things, I don’t even realize it’s going to be funny.  This makes it hard for me to write humor.  I’ve had a lot of ‘things’ going on in the last year; ill health of family members, ill health of pets, the financial situation, idiots, etc.  Not a lot seems funny to me and I have made a point of going back through my book and MAKING some funny.

I used to read my daughter’s blog, BRAINDEBRIS  at http://braindebris.wordpress.com/, for lessons in funny.  AND, AND, that girl has started blogging again.  That girl is funny in her sleep and it is just all so natural.  I also have a niece who has you in stitches all the time.  I have just discovered, from one of my other favorite blogs, EpBOT at http://www.epbot.com/, to the Bloggess’ blog:  http://thebloggess.com/2011/06/and-thats-why-you-should-learn-to-pick-your-battles/  This one goes to the top of my list, right alongside http://www.crazyauntpurl.com/  BECAUSE, everyone should have a 5 foot tall metal chicken.

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I know a person.  I’ve known her all my life.  I have always thought she was a loving and fun loving, a kind person with a big heart.  She welcomes almost all friends to her door.  She has always been a bit bigoted.

She began emailing my neighbor, years ago before Facebook and all the networking sites started up.  By e-mail she became a long lost friend to my neighbor.  And, she was.  She would have done anything for my neighbor.  She used to be a friend to all.

I don’t know what has happened to her over the years, nor how her heart has filled with so much hatred.

Lately, she has taken to forwarding political apps on Facebook.  They are the cruelest, most illogical, often bigoted, bits of hatred you can find.  They are pictures reminiscent of the old time Little Black Sambo era, where watermelon was a code for race and excuse for hatred.

She is a flag-waving American and proud of it.  She is proud of this country and all that created it.  I guess that even includes “All men are created equal,” but I’m not sure she remembers that part.  She is also a Christian, and yet she seems to have forgotten the “Do unto others as you would have them do until you.”  Right now, she just spouts hate.

I did not realize how much seeing it was affecting me every day, until someone else I knew mentioned they had blocked or removed her because they were tired of it.

Today, I blocked this “dear” person.  I don’t mean to abandon her, if she is slipping.  I don’t mean to offend her.  I just cannot take it anymore and today, when I checked my Facebook and all that was on was teenagers writing poems and pictures of little children from relatives, not someone using the word Stupider to show how bright Sarah Palin is, I was happy again.  I no longer had to see her spouting a belief that I will never agree with, no matter how much she tries to cram it down my throat.

You cannot force someone else to believe in your religion by sending four apps a day of “the daily picture of Jesus” or whatever else they have, and you cannot change their politics by belittling the political leaders that they believe in.  It is insulting and only stirs up bile.  If you wish to blog your beliefs, that is fine.  I can choose to read or not read your blog.  But, there should be different rules on a site like Facebook.  There should be a rule for being civil and not cruel.  There should be respect for other people’s beliefs, without trying to cram your own down their throat.

Let’s get back to a little bit of civility.

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69.8 million families, in this United States, live on Social Security and/or Federal Pension.  Those checks cover anywhere from one to —— people/adults and children in a family.

IF OUR government cannot get its act together, 69.8 million families will not get a check (and that includes the military) on the Third of August.  What will happen????

1. First, no direct deposit or card to pay that money.

2. No deposit, EQUALS, no money to pay the mortgage, utilities, doctors, gasoline, car repairs, house repairs, food, school clothing, book rental.  For one month, we will sit in our HOT homes (my husband has COPD and by the end of the month will most likely be in the hospital.) opening bank statement overdraft fees, and mortgage late payments, and, after the freezer is all melted, canned goods.  Not to speak of the student loan that I could not cancel the automatic withdrawal on in time.  That would certainly rank under the mortgage, if I could have.

3.  The end of the month will see us walking three miles away to have a free dinner at Mother’s Cupboard, well some of us.  My husband could not walk that length even in 70 degree weather.

4.  I will cancel the MRI for my possible crushed disc, in my back that is causing intense cyatic pain.

5.  We will not order medicine that we run out of.

6.  We already cancelled our land line but have a contract on the cell, so I guess they just turn it off without payment, but you still owe it.

7. What happens to your health and life insurance premiums?  I think I have two months before I am in default and lose my health insurance.

8.  Our income is already under $20,000 a year.  We have a nineteen year old with one more semester of high school, long story, he wasn’t being homeschooled when we took him, so he had problems.  One boy was just deployed to Afghanistan and one boy is working in food service and paying his own student loans and gas and food bills.

9.  Just wanted to give you a taste of our world.

MY PROPOSAL:

Every single one of those families need to write to every Congressman, senator, tea party, republican and democrat and send them a bill for the actual and mental damages when this happens.  Maybe that will wake them up.  Do you know a good Class Action lawyer?

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Eons ago, I’ve seen my readers Avatars I’m sure it was from before they were born, there was this strange little fellow who did guest appearances on variety shows.  Okay, let me explain that concept.  Variety shows were a combination of – well, variety.  No, everyone has talent singing show, but just one or two acts singing.  A comedy sketch was done and, what became, stand-up comedy.  Sometimes they did sketches, which were micro-mini stories, told in a humorous way in less than five minutes.  It’s the only time I have ever really liked short stories.

Anyway, there was this guy who came out on stage, all by himself, brave man, and would recite a poem he had written.  He would do an Ode to ____, anything. 

Now that you have had your television history lesson, I will move on to the electric skillet.  Also, eons ago, I think for my first wedding, we got an electric skillet.  This was a honker of an electric skillet, solid steel, weight a ton and held four inches or more of grease.  It was great for everything.  You could pretty much do without the stove top with this thing.  I fried pork chops and steak and shit on a shingle.  Ah, make that meat, in gravy on bread (if I remember right).   It looked rather like this:

Electric skillet

One day I discovered I could make homemade donuts.  Dunkin had nothing on me.  Actually, I don’t think Dunkin even existed at this time.  My girls were pre-school and I did my part to add to the clogging going on now in their arteries by frying donuts every morning for one year.  I know this because I remember the house we were renting.

It was a little house on the back of the property and the landlord lived in the front house and used to come through my house when I was gone.  We had two bedrooms but I refused to use the back bedroom because the furnace was in the hall on the way to the bedroom and the fear of life that runs in my family, would not allow me to trust that it wouldn’t blow up one day and we would not be able to get out or to get to our daughters if they were in it.  I guess they slept in a crib and bassinet in our bedroom, as the youngest was still doing her projectile vomiting then.  Life has never suited her.

Oh, that’s good.  I only perpetuated to the clog in the oldest daughters artery, but I made some radically good French Crullers in the day and we ate them as we watched Sesame Street.  It was new.  It was good.  So were the crullers. 

I think my no-oil Vegan diet is making me light headed.  I just took a hunk of cheese, a DEFINITE NO on my diet, popped it in the microwave for 5 seconds and ate it.  The two things I miss the most are melted cheese and butter.  There is no substitute for butter.

I don’t know what happened to that electric skillet.  I mentioned it to my mother the other day, who makes it her business to know who has what in the family and where everything went.  Of course she cannot remember anything that happened last week, but that is for another day.  So, mother says that she has an electric skillet and she would be happy to get it out of her cabinet as she has no room in her senior galley kitchen.  I pull it out and it’s like a toy electric skillet.  I could only cook one crueler at a time in it.  Why do they even make something like that?

I will spare you all and not make a real ode, a rhyming ode, for the skillet.  It would be too painful to read.

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I was doing my daily “let’s avoid accomplishing anything” by searching for new blogs to read.  This is purely in the name of research and to get me out of the rut of writing blogs and then deleting them, prior to publishing, as they are not funny.  I seem to be doing a lot of that lately.

Then, there is the Christmas stocking issue and the knitted Christmas gift that I could work on 24/7 from now till Christmas and probably still not have it done.    I am on my second yarn and my twentymillionth rip out on this thing.  So, my days go, dishes, feed animals, knit four rows, search the internet for Vegan no oil food and any other excuse I can use.

When I am searching blogs, I am mostly looking for ones that make me laugh and today, I was in stitches over a new blog I found.  Truckstop Oysters. How Bad Could They Be? | Blurt via Truckstop Oysters. How Bad Could They Be? | Blurt.

All I can tell you, is I think it’s a guy girl (she asserted her he just asserted his alpha female status over Angelina Jolie’s dolls, another funny post, and he lives in North Carolina and he is funny!   And, he can tell you just exactly how bad of an idea it is to have truckstops serve oysters. 

If you have ever traveled, then you probably have a state that is NOT your favorite.  My state is Missouri.  I have broken down every single time I cross Missouri, except the last time.  Perhaps I am making my peace with the state.  But, I am pretty sure it just felt like it owed me as one trip, I broke down three times.  Never buy a used motorhome. 

It isn’t just that though.  Missouri is the state that has nice restaurants who bring you a cup of hot water and a packet of cocoa when you order hot chocolate.   What is more upscale than bringing you hot water and packets of cocoa?  I now travel a long way out of my way to avoid Missouri.

Let me know if you hear where Truckstop Oysters is playing.  Sounds like a great band to me.

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I have a new mother boad on my new Dell Inspiron 1545.  This seems to have fixed the external modem problem.  The new hard drive was a bonus (the repairman says it is much better than the old one.)  I have a new CD Rom, as I had to use a paperclip to eject it at times.  Now, my touchpad is wonky. 

While Dell’s service people are very nice, I am so putting off calling about the touchpad.  I wish they would have just replaced the whole laptop at some point.  I always have to go through convincing them that I am not a computer illiterate person and I have already updated the drivers for the touchpad and yes, my touchpad is haunted/possessed/you name it.

It’s very interesting to watch it jump all around the screen by itself, lighting up windows and closing them.  Interesting, but irritating.  Such as, it just jumped up a line and I found out I was typing on the wrong line. 

I am here to try to get some regular postings done.  The ground, hence the phone lines are dry and I can no longer hear my neighbor, on our occasional party line, informing her family that her son is out of jail now.  I wonder if this is the same son who knocked on my door the other day, so drunk he could hardly stand up, to ask if he can use my phone.  When we took the cell out to him, I was not letting him in the house to upchuck or slit our throats, he called someone and promptly starting walking, stumbling back home with my cell phone.

I may have lost the art of blogging.  I have to work real hard to be funny.  Although, my life has enough fodder for the telling that it should come naturally. 

In parting, since I shared a picture of my last “butt ugly shoes,” I thought I should share a photo of my new wonderful shoes.  I have bone and joint/tendon whatever problems and my feet will apparently self destruct if I do not tie them in  good, meaning $100, shoes.  This is according to my doctor.   And, in his defense, they hurt when I don’t. 

It was time for a new pair and he sent me to Shoe Carnival  http://www.shoecarnival.com/.  I am here to tell you, I am in love with these shoes and shoe carnival.  I had hurt my back and after walking less than an hour in these things, my back felt wonderful.  In fact the only time it didn’t hurt was when I walked in them.  They say you lose weight when you wear them.  Every time I sat down, my back hurt, so I think keeping you up and moving is a side benefit.

So, here they are:  My new Avi-motion walking shoes by Avia.  I was able to get a second pair, to trade off, for $125 for both pairs.  What a deal.  There is a more name brand of these shoes, that are supposed to tone your butt up and all but they hurt my feet.  The butt thing is not known yet, but we can hope.  I swear these shoes are fun to walk in.  They have a rocking kind of sole.  The dog is optional.

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