Happens Every Time!

Yesterday was National Break from Blog Comments Day…

I’ve written some pretty controversial stuff lately, and this elicits a lot of caring and interesting advice from some of my caring friends who read.  It also elicits some vile vitriol from some of my less caring readers.  Yesterday, I took a break from comments.  I just didn’t read, but listened with interest as the “You’ve Got Mail!” messages occurred throughout the day.  I did read all the comments this morning when I was in a better frame of mind to let them all soak in so to speak.  It always fascinates me what others think of me or what advice they give.  I do appreciate it very much.  It’s like grist for the mill and gets me to thinking. 

Most days, I don’t take anything personally.  I find it an interesting study in human nature of some of the more vitriolic anonymous comments.  The main goal is to cause me pain, and it is interesting that someone out there found my daily journal and made it a part of their lives to cause another human being distress on purpose.  If they distressed me, then I would go back to blogger only comments.  Moderation is a joke.  Moderation is a way to save face.   You still have to read the comments to moderate them, thus defeating the purpose of never reading all that crap.

Well, anyways, I am going to get back to responding to comments today.  It actually takes a lot of work to do.  And it keeps me tied to this computer.  I have to take them piecemeal or I wouldn’t do it.  As the emails come in, I have take one comment at a time or I would get overwhelmed.  But I want to give back to my readers, and some of you mean so very much to me and have been with me for years.  I am also TERRIBLE at email and my friend Liz is the only person I can seem to keep up a viable email exchange with.  Comments is my way of communicating so back to communicating it is.  

The State of Smokeville…

Dad gave me a rare compliment last night. 

“You’re cigarette consumption has been cut in half,” he told me, thanking me.

Dad personally pays for my cigarettes to help conserve my disability allotment.  He has been ordering them wholesale using his business license through the pharmacy.  He took this on himself.  I would rather pay for the cigarettes out of my own money as this just further complicates our often tumultuous relationship. 

“I smoke only one cigarette every thirty minutes,” I replied proudly.  “It makes a pack last ten hours.”

At one point, I was smoking three packs a day.  I chained smoked – one after another.  It was extremely frivolous and overboard – just another symptom of my obsessive compulsive nature.  Now?  I watch that clock! LOL  I savor every cigarette as it only comes twice an hour, but it makes smoking so much more pleasurable.   I like to think of myself as being part of a noble cause to save money and expense.  It reminds me of the monks in the monasteries that would live austere lives to bring them closer to Christ and God.  My lessened smoking brings me closer to my father.

Maggie’s Tuckered Out! It was a Busy Cat Day, Today!

Mom’s Care Package…

Mom just drove by honking her horn.  She is really sick tonight and sounds it.  I walked out and she handed me a bag; a care package of sorts.

“Sorry I couldn’t bring your Arby’s tonight,” she said, sniffling.  “I am going home and getting in the bed.”

I walked back inside as she drove off to find this interesting combination.  3 diet Grapico, 5 cans of fish steaks in mustard sauce, and 1 roll of Ritz crackers.  Not quite a large Arby’s and some curly fries, but it will do.  Have I told you, “I love my mom?”  It’s the thought that counts.

The Poisoned Apple…

One comforting aspect of George’s drinking over the years was that I always knew I could get a drink if I needed one.  I could call George and he would be over in fifteen minutes with a case of beer thrilled to have the old times back.   Now?  Dad would be more likely to buy me a beer than George.  For some reason, this bothers me, and has for weeks.   I guess that old saying about you always want what you can’t have is true.  The same goes for my Diet Cokes.  I never thought much about Diet Cokes in my younger years.  I could always just drive to the store and buy some.  Now, I am obsessed.  I am only allowed six a day (three are caffeine free) and it drives me crazy.  Dad and I got in a fight over them last night.  He says I get “high” off of them.

Well, this morning I have been researching “hooch” or “prison hooch”.  This is my addictive personality at work.  Mom is buying me lots and lots of fruit these days and my addictive mind thought, “Hey! I could turn this bounty into alcohol!”  Yeast would be the problem.  I would have to orchestrate an elaborate ruse to get mom to buy me yeast.  I would have to buy buttermilk or milk, flour, baking powder, and act like I was baking things.  The recipes are all so varied as well.  Some even call for well worn dirty socks or underwear in place of yeast in the “prison hooch” recipes where yeast would be impossible to obtain.   Ah, the Internet; where you can find anything if you just know where to look.

Six Miles Under My Belt This Morning…

Maggie and I were passing the old cotton mill this morning when I thought, “You know? I wouldn’t go through all this if it wasn’t for this little dog!”  It’s true.  I wouldn’t walk if it wasn’t for Maggie.  I would be at home ensconced in my warm “command center” reading books, playing video games, or browsing the Internet.  I froze my ass off today and kept longing for a pair of warm gloves.  My hands were just extremely uncomfortably freezing today. 

When I got home, I thought of calling mom and putting into motion getting a pair of gloves today.   Putting into motion is a good way to describe it as it would be an elaborate process.   But then I decided not to.  It would be too complicated and it would get mom in a stir.  Mom is obsessive compulsive like me and takes such matters extremely seriously; insanely seriously.  She would have to drive by my father’s pharmacy to get a check from my account.  Drive to Wal-Mart.  Call me three times about the sizes.  And then finally purchase me a pair all the while fretting for hours worried if they would fit and if they didn’t having to return them.  

Anyways, Maggie loves her walks.  I wish you could all see how excited she gets when I pull out the leash.  It is like a little kid getting to go to the fabled Disney World every time, and it happens every day when it is not raining.  I do it for her, and I guess it is good for me.  I used to walk with a passion.  A zest.  Now?  I just go through the motions kind of like having sex after you’ve been married for twenty years.

I Want this Person in my Life…

I’ve been following this woman on Twitter for weeks now.  I love her tweets.  She’s an incredible person.  She writes on Twitter like my favorite blog author wrote on her now defunct blog; everyday mundane stuff that I just eat up.  I want to get to know a person and hear about their days.   I eat up the minutia of life of someone I’m interested in.  I realized a few days ago that I wanted this person in my life and I also realized this was the first time in my life I’ve felt that way before.  People have always just chosen to have me in their lives.  I have never purposely pursued a relationship this way before.  It is nothing sexual.  I just want a friend. 

Well, I have been commenting on her blog cautiously and tweeting back some.  I am not very good at all this so this is an undiscovered country for me.  How do you make someone your friend?  Is it chance?  Or is there some chemistry involved?  If she reads my blog then she will probably run the other direction as fast as she can! LOL

Sunsets R Us…

Really nice sunset photo over at my weather blog which is a nightly feature weather permitting.  My drug dealer neighbor was outside letting his dog pee when I was taking it.  He asked his buddy, “What is he taking photos of?”  I guess it was making him paranoid! LOL

Well, I am off to pace the floor and smoke copiously till dad gets here with my medications.  I am still having some symptoms tonight.  I guess I get tired as the day progresses, my medication levels drop, and I start to hear things and feel uncomfortable.  

Maggie’s Got a Problemo…

I Have No “Needs”…

This morning George and I were standing outside having a cigarette in the freezing cold after breakfast.

“You have ‘needs’, don’t you?” George asked me speaking of sex.

“George,” I said. “Your getting neurotic in your sobriety.  You ask me this all the time and I tell you the same thing.  I rarely have ‘needs’ as you put it.”

When George quit drinking, he broke up with his long, long time love object; that crackhead Pookie.  I’ve said it many times that Pookie was the only obese crackhead I have ever met and she was a vile woman; terrible for George.  I did a victory dance when George broke things off.  When George has needs he goes to prostitutes at the shot house.   He's often offered to pay for one for me as well.   He is getting neurotic in his worries about me never getting any “satisfaction” as he puts it.   His says, “your plumbing is going to get backed up!” LOL 

“I’m chemically castrated,” I finally told him being explicitly honest.

“You mean your balls are cut off?!?!?” George asked with an astonished look on his face.

“NO!” I said as I burst out laughing.  George looked so serious. This was serious business to him after all.  “The medications I take for my mental illnesses took away my sex drive years ago.  I never think of sex and haven’t in years.  When I look at a woman, I see just another person.  Not something I can copulate with.”

“You don’t beat off?” George then asked brusquely and directly in George’s fashion.  

“No,” I said. “It has probably been a year since I have.”

This all just worries George to no end.   I can imagine him lying awake sleepless at night worrying about my
“needs”.   I guess he is just being a good “guy” friend. 

Locked and Loaded…

Hardee’s used to have this “loaded” breakfast biscuit that was delicious and I am sure it was full of everything you shouldn’t eat for breakfast.   Well, Mrs. Florene had her version of Hardee’s loaded breakfast biscuits this morning.  She cut her biscuits extra large and extra thick and in the biscuit was a fried ham cutlet (salty!), scrambled eggs, and shredded cheddar cheese.   It was delicious.  She also had homemade hashbrowns and they were delicious as well.  I like mine with lots of onion and that’s the way Mrs. Florene fixes hers. 

“Momma went to a lot of trouble to prepare those hashbrowns,” George told me approvingly.

“You can tell it,” I replied hungrily as I ate.

Tomorrow, George will have been sober for four weeks.  It must have seemed like an eternity for him.  He has had to completely rearrange his whole life to quit drinking.  No more Saturday night poker nights.  No more mornings after work at my house drinking beer until he is silly.  No more sitting over at the neighborhood shot house “shooting the shit”.  No more riding around for hours while he listened to Gospel and drank cheap beer.   I told him he was much more domesticated these days and he snarled at me jokingly.  

It’s All Relative!

I had a tough night last night with my schizophrenia.  I was feeling agitated and antsy, and I kept hearing this sound like bugs getting squashed on a windshield.  It was disconcerting to say the least.  It is all relative, though, and it shows you how far I’ve come when last night’s bad night would have been a good night a few years ago.   I kept trying to tell myself that.

Mom and dad threw a party last night at their house.  I wasn’t feeling well and wanted a few cokes so I called.  Mom had had a little too much champagne.  

“I’ll put your cokes out on the porch,” she said drunkenly. 

I laughed despite my mental anguish.  Mom sounded so funny over the phone.  Well, I drove over and in a sack were six caffeine free diet cokes.  Six diet Grapico.  And six diet Sunkist!  Mom needed to get drunk more often!  It was like a crack addict finding a twenty dollar bill on the sidewalk!

Well, mom called at 12:30 AM.  I had been asleep an hour and let the answering machine pick up.

“Did you come get your three Grapico?  And your anti-biotic?”

I then called her back intrigued.  What was this talk of three Grapico and anti-biotics?

“Mom, you gave me 18 drinks!” I said laughing.

“Oh my!” mom said. “Your daddy would have killed me if he knew!  I must have been out of it.”

“Yes, you were,” I said, smiling. “You were three sheets to the wind.”

“No wonder I have a headache!”

“Do you know what time it is?” I asked her.

“No,” she replied.

“It’s after midnight.”

“Oh dear!” she said. “Let me let you go back to sleep.  I am so sorry.”

LOL! I love my mother, but she can be so scatterbrained sometimes!

Best Friends Forever!

Maggie The Psychiatrist…

Yearning for the City…

The lore surrounding my grandfather is extensive.  He was an incredible role model for my father and dad says I look exactly like him with my freckled complexion and strawberry blonde hair.  Everybody affectionately call him “Red”.  Well, my grandfather grew up on a large rural farm.  His father was a terrible farmer and if it wasn’t for my great grandmother’s dairy and chicken operation, they would have gone under.   Lillian made all the money selling chickens, milk, eggs, and butter to the local folk and stores. 

My grandfather longed to move to the city, buy a house in the suburbs, and work in finance.  “I never want to step in chicken shit again!” he once told his two brothers.   When he turned eighteen, he got a job in Opelika at a bank.  He would have to catch and ride a bus in every morning to work.  He was so determined.   He scrimped and saved while growing his credit.  Post war America was booming.   About this time, he fell in love with a little country girl named Sally Lou.  He would later marry her and have one son, my father.  They eventually moved to the city, bought a house in the suburbs, and Red become vice president of a local bank.  He was living his dream.   My father said he always had a new Buick.   My grandmother was a country girl at heart, though, and always longed to move back to God’s country.   She stood beside my grandfather for years until he died and within weeks she was back in the country having bought a small farm.  It was these years on her farm and my stays there that were some of the best times of my life.   I still miss my grandmother.  I was unabashedly her favorite.  I often say my life would have been vastly different if I lived with her in her later years, working the farm, and never went to college.  C’est le vie as they say! 

Anonymous Comments…

I am getting a ton of anonymous comment spam in the archives.  I get an email every time somebody comments and I keep hearing “You’ve got Mail!” as I amble about doing different tasks throughout the house.  I will continue to try and leave them up and delete the offending comments.  My “good” anonymous comments outweigh the “bad” ten to one.   BTW, I have dubbed my anonymous ranter “Vladimir” as he has broken English and only comments at 3 or 4 in the morning meaning he must live in Europe.  I imagine some parent’s basement in some Slavic country.  LOL  Oh, I am going to bring forth the wrath of Vladimir now!

Helen Friday…

Today, Helen cooked baked ham, baked sweet potato, butterbeans, steamed cabbage, cole slaw, and cornbread.  I can’t say enough how grateful I am for these Friday Southern cookin’ meals. 

A Bed Hog!

It really does drive me bat shiat crazy when I can’t make up the bed!!! LOL

A Party; a Sober Party…

Mrs. Florene just called me.  I was laying in bed listening to Taylor Swift sing about being fifteen and in love. 

“What do you think about throwing a party for George’s fourth week of sobriety?” she asked me. “It would just be me, you, and George.  We would have hors’devours and sober punch.  I make a mean punch with carbonated apple juice!”

“Let’s wait till six weeks,” I said, hating to burst her bubble.  “George told me he is still very shaky.  I don’t want to put pressure on him.”

“Okay baby,” Mrs. Florene replied. “I am going to listen to you.  You’ve been there and done that.”

We hung up the phones and I deeply smiled.  Mrs. Florene so loves George much like mom loves me.  They would both do just about anything to help us.  Mrs. Florene is a deeply religious woman and she told me the other day she got down on her knees and prayed deeply to God for a change in George and George quit drinking.   Coincidence or divine intervention?  You decide. 

Good ‘ol Judith…

Comedy Gold! Well, some Judith character with my same last name is using my gmail account to sign up for all these political activist email lists.  I am getting emails from likes of Nancy Polosi and John McCain.  I’m am just not a political animal.  Reading these emails is like reading a textbook on particle physics for me.  Well, with dogged determination, I have been unsubscribing from all that bullshit.   My mantra these days is political avoidance.  The only way you’re going to get something done in Washington is to show up on the capitol steps with a few billion dollars in hand.  Money talks as they say.  Thank you Judith for at least making me learn the names of these people I normally wouldn’t know. lol

UPDATE:  Great!  The AARP just sent me three emails for Judith about their Medicare part B prescription drug plan. LOL

Lesson’s Learned…

Someone asked me in an email this morning why I was being so vigilant about copyright law.  Google/Blogger contacted me about a month ago saying that I had to take down some posts that violated the terms of service or they were going to lock my blog.  It was the post were I talked about downloading movies.  I didn’t even post any links of movies to download; just talked about it.  It was my anonymous poster at work.  They had reported me hoping to get the blog taken down.   I realized then how serious this all was.  They could sue my father for what he is worth.  Everything I own is in his name.  The Internet account is in his name.  I would be unscathed.  You can’t by Federal law garnish disability.  I would never want harm to come to my father so it was a scary lesson to learn.  I am hyper vigilant about the Internet and copyright law now.   Once bitten, twice shy.  

241 GB of Music. You think I have enough to listen to?

The Worst of Both of Them…

My father is a very dominant person.  Charlie says he’s a mean son of a bitch when he wants to be.  He once hit Charlie in the mouth during an argument.   “I fight with words.  You fight with your fists,” Charlie told him rubbing his mouth astonished.   Well, dad pissed me off yesterday and much to his surprise, I told him so despite his reputation.  It was late in the afternoon and I thought I would get taking my medications over early.  I was feeling kind of iffy.  I called mom.

“Can I come take my medications?” I asked mom.

Mom asked dad out of earshot.

“He says he’s too tired from working in the yard to fool with that right now,” she replied.

I hung up.  I was pissed.  It was as if I was some nonentity.  A nobody.  He would have driven to Birmingham for my sister right then if she called and said she needed him. 

To my surprise, he was over at my house within the hour to administer our medication and Maggie’s food ritual. 

“I’m pissed at you,” I said with a mean look on my face after we had sat down.

“Why?” he asked, looking astonished – astonished at my aggressiveness.  I am usually very submissive. 

“You know you would have given my sister her medications if she called,” I said haughtily.

“I’m sorry son,” he told me surprising me.  I was expecting a fight. “I moved 12 wheel barrow loads of dirt out of the drainage ditch in the backyard today.  I overdid it and am exhausted.”

Well, then I felt like a schmuck – a very big schmuck.  Dad really did look exhausted.  “Always just thinking of yourself,” I thought of myself.

Dad then laughed.  “You surprise me sometimes,” he said. “You’ve got a lot of your mother in you, but you’ve got a lot of me as well!”

“I got the worst of both of you dammit!!!!” I exclaimed. “I am doomed.”

We both laughed and laughed and dad gave me a big hug as he was leaving.  “Love you, son,” he said. “I love you, too, dad,” I replied back.  

A Mercuric Matter…

This is just a little short blurb.  I was on a dog owner’s forum this morning.  I wrote about giving Maggie tuna for breakfast and how happy it made her.   A curmudgeon wrote back that I should be worried about giving dogs tuna due to the high mercury content of canned fish.   Excuse me?  Mercury in tuna?  Shouldn’t we be more worried about the human aspects?  I seriously doubt the FDA would allow high mercuric content canned fish to be sold in the US.  It reminded me of that myth that vaccines were causing autism.  It is the same paranoid mindset.  I should know. 

Media Matters…

I have over 500 compact discs I bought and collected in the years before I become sick and when I still worked full time.  Along with reading again, I’ve been able to listen to music avidly again for the first time in years.  Well, I’ve spent hours tonight ripping all my CDs into MP3s.  I have about 100 left and I will be finished.  I am slowly filling up that 2 Terabyte harddrive.  It is going to be so neat today to listen to music I love and haven’t listened to in years. 

I have a complicated matter to share with you all this morning.  A conundrum of sorts.  I am almost finished with reading Interview with the Vampire.  Well, the library didn’t have the second book in the series, The Vampire Lestat.  They said it was on loan to a patron.  Well, I found an eBook copy online to read next.  Is this legal?  Am I breaking copyright law?  I love reading eBooks on my computer.  Google recently released over 500,000 classics and out of print books for download in eBook format.  With my new huge monitor, reading on my computer is pleasant and a breeze.  I settle in my comfy Lazy Boy, put my mouse in my lap to scroll, and lounge back to read. 

Update…

I looked up The Vampire Lestat eBook on Amazon.com and it was $6.39.  That was enough to make me delete it.   I will just wait until is comes back to the library.  I am so impatient though and so into this series right now.  Patience young grasshopper! lol

Lichen – Such a Beautiful Green…

My New Desktop Wallpaper: A Railroad to Nowhere!

Red in All it’s Glory…Winter Flora in the South…

Let’s Go Hog Wild!

It’s grocery day and mom is already fretting.  Have I ever told you she buys their groceries today as well.  She will buy theirs, take them home, and put them up.  Then, she will drive back to Kroger to buy mine.  Mom can make things so complicated.  I don’t know why she doesn’t just buy theirs, put them in the trunk, and then buy mine and put them on the backseat.  It would save two trips.  

“What do you want today?” she asked me over the phone.

“Lots of vegetables,” I replied.  “I am trying to eat healthier.  No Chef Boyardee.”

“Canned or frozen?”

“Frozen is healthier,” I replied. “Get me what appeals to you.”

“And mom,” I added. “Spend the whole $85 dollars I am allotted.  We’ve been frugal for far too long. I am tired of running out of food.  You always have to buy me food to get through the last three days of the week.”

For the longest time, other than last week, we’ve been spending $40 to $50 dollars weekly.  Mom paused for a long time.  This worried her.  She worries dad will get on to her.

“Dad always let me spend $85 when I was getting my groceries myself,” I said, trying to reassure her she wouldn’t get in trouble.

“Okay,” mom replied. “I will get you 20 Lean Cuisines instead of 15.”

“And get me lots of fruits.”  Fruit is expensive. “Try to get me some Kiwis if they have them.  I love those.”

Satisfied, mom hung up the phone.  Now, I will have to wait until around 1:30 or 2:00 for mom to arrive with my groceries.  The anticipation is mounting.  Buying vegetables means I will have to start cooking though.  Let’s hope I will be prudent and keep up with washing my pots and pans. 

Everybody’s Always Feeding Me…

George came by this morning with a breakfast plate from his mother.  On it was a heaping helping of scrambled cheese eggs, four buttered biscuits, and four pieces of Clark Brother’s sausage.  “It’s good, isn’t it?” George asked grinning.  George loves for me to brag on his mother’s cooking.  “Your mother could make cardboard taste like Filet Mignon,” I told him hungrily eating in front of the TV.  George will also often bring me a bag of burgers.  I guess he realizes I can’t pay for it myself and it would be a treat, and it is.  I very much appreciate it.

Mom brings me two meals a week.  Monday and Tuesday nights.  Dad gets her to do this to put weight on me and as a treat as well.  Friday, Helen brings a plate and I usually get to pick what we eat.  I call Helen’s plate my three vegetables for the week.  Have you ever noticed I don’t eat many vegetables when I posted my grocery list last week?  I need to eat more.  I eat lots of fruits though.

I saw a picture of me from Christmas the other day and I looked gaunt.  I am in a size 36 jeans and I have never worn below a size 40.  I’ve gained ten pounds since Christmas though.  Dad says I look so much better.  I have this phobia though of being fat again and it works on me.  I want to go back to my old habits of purging and not eating.   We will weigh me next week and I hope to weigh 185 to get dad off my back.  Let’s hope I can keep it at that weight without losing it again.  C’est le vie.