In Memoriam

Cooter


His suffering ended. Ours still goes on.


Even though I'm an agnostic leaning towards atheism, I'd like to think there's a doggie (or pet, as it were) heaven. Right now, he could be playing with our dearly departed Heidi, and Rogue, and Roscoe, and Watermelon. Or hell, he could just be a ghost and haunt us, moving around the toys and chewies he was unable to play with in his last month. Maybe standing on my chest at 5:00 am, to get up and walk him and Bubba.

I still love you, Toot.

One More Christmas to Go

Jimmy comes up from his dad's today, I just heard from him.

HORRORS!! I took a cel phone call at work! Come and take me away!

We haven't bought his gift yet, because we didn't know what to get. We could've gotten Serenity, but thought he would've gotten it as soon as it came out. Turns out he didn't. Other than that, we're not sure. Jimmy's suggesting glasses, to replace the ugliest (and, most likely, indesctructible) glasses on the face of the planet the Navy gave him.

I got to be with my family yesterday (too long according to the Hubby), which was nice. I wanted the Hubby to go, and they wanted to see the Hubby, but he's still being a gloomy gus.

And, speaking of being a gloomy gus, we were hoping to get beyond the holidays before thinking of euthanizing Cooter. He's eating less and less, and yips in pain when he tries to yawn. We don't want him to suffer, but we don't want him to die, either. Would you call that a Catch-22?

Hello....This Thing On?!

I need to rant, but I don't know what to say or how to start.

I need to talk to somebody, but I hate to bother people with my problems. I guess that would be one reason I tend to implode.

I hate my job. I Hate My Job. I HATE MY JOB. IHATEMYJOBIHATEMYJOBIHATEMYJOBIHATEMYJOB!!

I hate my customers, the ones who get to travel, yet won't take resposibility for their reservations.

I hate my supervisors. It's always, say this, ask that, why aren't you on the phone, there are calls in queue. When, it seems to me, they should be appreciative that I'm neither on the floor in a little ball, crying; or shooting them full of holes (just supervisors - and NO!! I wouldn't actually do that!!).

And, again, my dog has cancer and is slowly dying. And, again, this is killing the Hubby, who is now taking it out on me. I'd like to say, "Get off my back!! You're pissing me off!!" But of course I don't, and, in fact, get mad at myself.

merry christmas.

bah! Humbug!

Empathy Bites

A Cooter-Patooter update:

He tires easily, but is still eating (soft food) and drinking. He felt good enough this morning to play with the cat, Whiskers (stupid name - but we got him at a year old and already named). And since losing Artie, I think Wickers (what I call him, the Hubby calls him Whiskey) is lonely, and likes even the clumsy attention of a big, slobbery dog.

This is killing the Hubby. So far, I can still be strong - if I don't think about it too much. I just wish it would go away! Can't cancer just spontaneously go away?!

OH, and my human son, Jimmy, 's leave starts the 23rd, but he goes to his dads first for a couple of days. But dad bought the tickets so it's cool. Dad's driving him up here for the rest of his leave and will fly out of OKC back to Charleston. YAY!!

Kinda Crappy Weekend

We got the results of Cooter's biopsy, and it's not good. Cancer and there's not much we can do, what was cut out will grow back. So far, Cooter's acting fine, almost back to precancer rambunctiousness. The M-in-L says even though he has cancer, we shouldn't be babying him. yeah. Hey! M-in-L, Kiss my large, white behind. We're going to love him and care for him the time he has left, however long it is.

I missed my psychiatrist appointment yesterday, but ask her to call in my prescription to my drug store. Need to see if it's there.

Really down today. Got into an argument with the Hubby over politics. He likes to listen to talk radio (gag!). I try to tell him there full of shit, but I don't get listened to.

It would be kinda nice to be catatonic for a while.

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

Just some different notes.

Maybe GM is telling the truth when it says the tripling of jobs in India is not moving US jobs oversees, but the timing can't be worse. It only seems suspicious. From tompaine.com.

Went to a co-workers "Winter Holidays & Apartmentwarming Cocktail Party" on Saturday. Got pretty blasted on Vodka and cranberry juice. Just 2 drinks, but pretty potent. Then I tried to mix myself a rum and coke, but with disaster. Too late the Hubby said, "That's too much rum!" I never did finish it, I kept putting more coke, and then diet coke into it. I tried a martini - yuck. I know alcohol is a depressant, and I guess it could've been a recipe (cocktail?) for disaster, being a depressive and all, but I was goddamned happy. Stereotypically happy. And no hangover and no puking the next day. Great time.

I have received and spent my "Surface and Damages" check (a couple thou) in regards to my Oil Leases (which is still kind of freaking me out a year later). I've now learned they're going to put in pipeline - and thus giving me another couple thou. The background is here, you have to scroll down to December 21, 2004. The "Surface and Damages" thingy is what the pay you for distubance of the property when drilling. The drilling company who paid us the "S&D" money is being sued by some other companies (no! fuck, I don't know!), so the actual drilling (and thus flowing of oil or natural gas) is delayed. That I could be some kind of Jed Clampitt in the future is unbelieveable. But I have modified the song:

Well first thing you know ol' Pattye's a millionaire
the kinfolk say, "Pattye, move away from there"
"Gaillardia is the place you ought to be"
So we loaded up the truck and moved to OKC.

In other news, my son's training has started at the Naval Nuclear Power Training Command. And he has declared himself "one of the dumbest people here."
SIGH.
You know it was cool when he was little that he was like me. But the older he got, I realized he got the bad things, too - the shyness, the lack of self-confidence. One time we were at the Little Sahara, in Waynoka, OK, with some kids who used to hang out at the motorcycle shop (died 2000). Jimmy and I were sitting at a picnic table eating chips and one of the kids was sitting by himself. I told Jimmy he ought to ask him if he wants any and he gives me a deer in headlights look. I said "One of us ought not to be shy!"
And Jimmy replied, "Why does it have to be me?"
"Because!" I thought but didn't say. It was all that was in my head, but not my heart. I didn't want him to have my weaknesses. (I offered the kid chips, he turned them down.)

We still don't know exactly what the mass in Cooter's mouth is, cancer or no, benign or malignant. We took him to the Veterinary Surgery Center. The doctor said he'd probably have to cut off part of the upper jaw and the teeth involved (at a cost of $1,200-1,400 - yow!). But, according to the Hubby, who took the message, Cooters red blood cell count was too low. So he cut some of the mass to biopsy and removed two back teeth. Cooter's still not eating hard dog food, but is gobbling soft food, and is being perky and happy again.

And it's my Friday!

A Mental Health - or Lack Thereof - Update

I'm at the end of my second month of Cymbalta. And while I'm not crashing and reaching for pills, guns or whatever, I feel so.... I don't know - Down? Yes, but more than that. Frustrated? Angry? Burned Out? Oh Yeah.

I wish I could feel like I'm worth a damn. Maybe that's the wrong thing - somewhere inside I know I'm worth a damn. Except for having a great son and Hubby, I don't feel like I've amounted to anything.

I'd like to have a well-read blog, like those on my list on the right. But I don't have the talent, just the profilagacy.

I'd like to get the 5 stories out of my head - but just because I like them doesn't make them any good.

I'd like to have a job I enjoy, that I make a decent living at. Hell, I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. Oops.

In my twenties, I was just making a living. It was okay, though, my life was still ahead of me. I just knew I didn't want a job that put me to sleep (as they usually did).

I spent pretty much all of my twenties in federal service with the Department of Defense - first in Outbound GBL's (government bills of lading - the shipping department) at Tinker AFB (the ONLY thing I'll ever thank Ronald Reagan for), followed then-husband to NYC and got a similar job, though a down-grade, at Defense Contracts whatever (can't remember the acronym), then lateralled to Defense Contracts whatever in Dallas when then-husband lost the job we moved to NYC for and got a crap job that didn't seem destined to last long. (oh, and Jimmy was starting to talk at that time - with a NY accent - and I thought, "No way in hell") Marriage is going downhill at that point, my eyes just beginning to open (actually I was in an avalanche, but didn't know it).

Now I'm approaching 30, the decade is coming to a close. My marriage has only gotten worse, and I no longer had any excuses for his abuse. And though the flex-time I had in Dallas really rocked, I hated my job. I was approaching ten years total in federal service, doing the same old shit with no advancement opportunities.

December 1, 1989, the worst day of my life.
I went to work and never went home. Then-husband (shortly to be ex-) and I had another fight the night before (and Jimmy was having recurring nightmares, and coloring mostly with black at daycare), He was driving me to the Irving DART (Dallas-area Rapid Transit) station where Jimmy and I took the bus downtown (Jimmy being at the federal daycare in the building next door to the train station). He was telling me what "my problems were". It was almost an out-of-body experience. I was quiet, just looking at him, asking myself "What are you doing?" I spent the day second- and third-guessing myself. I spent the night with a co-worker and my parents picked me up the next day. I spent a week back home. I almost went back. "I'll change, I'll go to counseling," he said. I went so far as to make air reservations, but then I realized that was just talk to get me back to the same ol' same ol'. Thats when I took off my wedding ring (that I bought anyway).

I went back to Dallas, living alone for the first time. I tried to make a go of it, but I guess I had changed. I was trapped at my job, but with RIF's (reduction in force) going on at Tinker and freezes elsewhere, not to mention that I plain-d hated that job, I decided to quit federal service and move back home. Dallas was just too close (of course, at the time, the moon was too close). With federal service, it's not what you know, it's who you know and the only place I knew people was NYC (by-the-by, loved the people, hated the city).

So, before moving home I temped for a while in Dallas, mostly at places I didn't want to work at. Now I did temp a week at Southwest Airlines headquarters - just stuffing envelopes for a frequent flyer promotion. It was like a different world. Management appreciated their employees, employees loved their company. I'd never before or since had an experience like that.

Moved home to Midwest City, OK in August of 1990. I temped for a while, but where I could make a living temping in Dallas, not so OKC. I had one crappy job (data entry - snooze) that they let me quit before being fired, temped some more, then in February 1993, just before my Grandma Ben died, I was hired as a reservation agent at Hertz.
At first I was like a different world, I could talk to people without being shy! And I enjoyed what I was doing! Well, at first, domestic reservations got real old, real quick. There's only so many times I could take: "Where do you want a car?" "Here." "Where's here?" "Oh, I don't know, the airport, I guess." I was going insane. I transfered to International. And again, another world, people from everywhere going to everywhere. And not much domestic backup. That didn't last long, soon we were doing domestic backup all the time. And of course, international is so different from domestic, we get rusty. Other things about Hertz bothered me, too. They treat (or treated) travel agents like they were made out of gold, but we were a necessary evil. A lot of the supervisors were never on the phone, they were hired from outside the company straight out of college. And yet, they had to tell me how to do my job. Right. And like all call centers, they give you sick leave, but it counts as an absence to take it. And they really didn't want you to stay more than 5 years (they'd rather pay new people less, than try to keep established workers). People would leave right and left when new call centers opened: Aol, Sprint, etc. But I knew it was a pipe dream. A call center is a call center.

My mother died in February, 1999. I kept on working, but my performance steadily went downhill, along with my mood. In June, 2000, one morning I woke up and just started crying. The Hubby said, "If you feel that bad, don't go to work."
I really tried to do the short-term disability with Hertz, but I ended up screwing myself. When I finally got the form (the second one - my mail sucks), I had been out for 2 months or so, but when I went to my then-doctor to fill it out - he only put a week down. I wasn't nervy enough to tell him off. Hertz let me quit instead of being fired. And if I had had the presence of mind to put down a date 2 weeks in the future, I could have been rehired later on.

So, now it's late 2000, and I've reached another fork in the road. I get a job at a place called Young America, that handles different companies rebates, contests and other promotions. It was a company that was more concerned with bodies in chairs, than caliber of employee. My client was RJ Reynolds, I handled Camel Cash and the Free Doral programs. As a non-smoker, who watched her smoker mother decline, you can tell how much I liked that job. It lasted just over a year. I told the Hubby I had to look for something else, and I wanted to do something I liked. I did once get to the point of almost starting a class with Southwest (who has - whatelse - a call center here in OKC), but they said "sorry, we don't need you, we'll call you later" HAH! Still waiting on that one!

The job I did get is the one I still have: January 2002, I became a travel agent with Cendant Travel. I discovered one thing, I can't sell. Well, I can't do the hard sell, if you want to buy, you want to buy. So I went to Customer Service. You would think that I wouldn't like being griped to constantly about real or imagined travel problems. Well, since I've crashed 3 times now (twice this year alone), maybe it just took time for me to realize.

I guess the question is - What Now?

I just don't know.

Hah! maybe radio!

Let's Say A Prayer For Cooter

Our Bassett Hound, not even a year and a half. After Thanksgiving I noticed him bleeding out of his mouth. A couple of times. The Hubby explained it as either a cat popped him in the mouth, or maybe he got a piece of bone stuck. But walking him and Bubba in the Back-Back, his mouth started bleeding again. With no plausible excuses now, I called and made an appointment with the vet. He showed me this black thing on the roof of his mouth. He said it could be either an infection or cancer, but he would need a closer, more probitive look, which could only be done with Cooter under anesthesia - to be done the next morning (today).

I should have went ahead and played hooky like the Hubby wanted.

It's cancer.

He's going to have to have surgery, maybe next week. It's not guaranteed to clear it up - it could grow back. The Hubby said the Vet was decidedly pessimistic.

But I've decided to be hopeful. My little Cooter-Patooter will be ok!!

YOU HEAR ME?! He'll be ok!!

Just Heard on the News

The GM plant here in Oklahoma City will be closing next year.

Y'know, The Hubby and I have been thinking about getting a new car. Of course, one he can get in and out of with minimal effort (you know he doesn't bend - you try to get in your car without cocking your head to one side), with good gas mileage, comfortable seats that you can dial out the lumbar thingy (yeah, again, the Hubby doesn't bend), and a relatively good ride - so we can take just going to the city or across the country to visit the kid, but isn't driven my 90 mile round trip commute - and no dogs in the car. We have a lot of cars we're considering.

Well. I think I can cross GM brands off my list.

WWJD?

I've decided that's the wrong question to ask. UberChristians can assign any action to Jesus, and feel good about it.

NO!

I've decided the the question to be put to them is:

Is that any way to treat jesus?

I think this is the verse I'm thinking of:

For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in,
Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.
Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, and fed thee? Or thirsty, and gave thee drink?
When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? Or naked, and clothed thee?
Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?
And the king shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, in as much as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

But I may be wrong, after all, I'm as religous as a doorknob.
OH, and I love this post by Deepak Chopra, via Huffington Post.

I'm Back....Reluctantly

I had a wonderful time, way too short.

We spent Wednesday and Thursday of last week driving from Guthrie, OK to Charleston, SC. The most striking thing was how much friendlier people were. Like on Wednesday, our last stop in OK, a Loves Station off of I40, I can't say the cashier was hateful, but frowny and uncommunicative. Made me want to tell her how sorry I was she had a crap job in Nowheresville, OK. Yes, I hate my job, but that doesn't mean I'm going to dis my customers (unless they dis me first!).

I guess the next thing that struck me was how beautiful and wooded the deep south is. We left I40 at Memphis, and went through Mississippi, Alabama (where we stopped for the night - Taladega County! Woo!), Georgia, and finally South Carolina. And my first look at "clear-cutting" : these ugly, dead spaces, littered with tree trunks. I was shocked. The Hubby said, "Well, they'll replant the trees."
That didn't actually make me feel any better. So, it'll be a forest again in...what, 20, 50, 100 years from now?
And the Hubby couldn't tell me if the vines I saw covering everything in Ms, Al and GA was Kudzu. I thought then how much I like it to cover up my front yard, inside the U of my U-shaped driveway - just scrubby grass, weeds and icky stickers. Then I thought kudzu might not like OK's hot arid summers and cold winters.

The Hubby finally stopped for the day, Wednesday, in Talladega County, AL. We stayed at a Days Inn, not a bad price - luckily not a race weekend. And, of course, best of all, we got to watch Lost and Invasion! I can't believe they killed off Shannon! True, kind of a weak character after Boone died, but still, what about Sayid (as played by the really hot Naveen Andrews - the background on my computer at work), they really haven't given him much to do this year? And Invasion is going too slow for me. I don't want it to be obvious, just a little quicker.

We got to Atlanta during rush hour on Thursday. It kind of freaked the Hubby out, but while sitting in traffic, we found a route we could take around Atlanta, it passed by the Airport, once on it, traffic died out.

The only other excitement on the drive, was actually in Charleston. I made the mistake of following the directions the hotel provided instead of what looked obvious to me. So, instead of taking the exit for 17N, I followed directions and got the Hubby off on exit 221b, where I26 ends. But we did end up doing a nice little tour of old Charleston, before finding 17N to Mt. Pleasant, across the Cooper River. What we didn't know at the time, was there's a beautiful new bridge across the Cooper River, just finished this past summer. And they're tearing down the old bridges. So, I think, and the Hubby disagrees, that the directions I was going by were for the old bridge. And our hotel was right there at the end of the bridge.

The only thing is - our hotel was about 15-20 minutes south of the Naval Weapons Station where Jimmy is for the next year and a half. He called us while we were somewhere in GA on Thursday, after graduation, but before he left for Charleston. He wanted to know if we wanted pictures ("angry, bald pictures," is how he put it) and which package we wanted. The cheapest was $90.00 (?!!!), and I said we'd pay for half. The Hubby still wants to put a picture up at Wal-Mart (and has ever since he saw a picture touting the pictured as a "wartime enlistee!"). Hopefully, our mailman will just give us a card so we can pick them up at the post office, instead of cramming them into our lockbox (we don't have a real mail box - at our house - we have the post boxes at the corner).

The really nice people at the Mt. Pleasant Visitors Center, right in front of our hotel, gave us directions to the Naval Weapons Station. And we found I526 fine, and likewise Rhett Blvd, But Red Bank Rd, that splits the base - we had a devil of a time. The damn streets aren't marked!!
Jimmy called us at about 10am on Friday, saying he was at a subway on base. Like I said, I526 - fine, Rhett Blvd. - yeah, but Red Bank Rd - well we turned on the first street that said it was the base - wrong. Got directions from the mp's. Actually passed Red Bank Rd (not marked, remember?), realized we passed it, turned around - then had to find the subway (which was easier than finding Red Bank - thanks to the MP's).
The Hubby saw him first. He was walking up the road in his dress uniform (the black sailor suit - it's actually wool), extremely short hair and the ugliest glasses on the face of the planet. Of course I gave him a big, long hug. It turns out his glasses didn't survive basics, and he didn't have any choice in frames (well, besides male and female).

We asked him what he wanted to do. I should have known: go shopping. He had money burning a hole in his pocket. He said he needed an iron and ironing board, because his stuff in his seabag got kind of wrinkley. He also needed an alarm clock - as he has to be up at something like 6:45am. First we looked around the Navy Exchange. I had never been in an exchange before. didn't really see much - Jimmy found an IPod thingy - called IHome - that plays his music, and has alarms - for $99.99, but Jimmy said he wanted to look in Best Buy before he bought it. So next we went to the mall. Fairly crawling with seamen (seapeople?), freshly arrived from Great Lakes and basics. Jimmy went ahead and bought a cel phone - Cingular service - since we're all on Cingular his calls to us are free, and he bought the sequel to Wicked, Son of a Witch. Then we went to Best Buy, where he went ahead and bought the IHome thingy, and Grand Theft Auto for PSP. It was about 5 or 6 pm then, and we were going to see if we could take his things to his dorm room, but SOMEBODY forgot to remove the firearms from the car. It wasn't a big deal - heck the Hubby and the MP's then had a discussion about favored weapons. It just kind of cut the evening short.

We did the tourist thing on Saturday. Visited Patriots point where they made a museum out of the WWII carrier USS Yorktown. I don't think we saw half of it - the Hubby was hurting too much. Since the Hubby locked up the firearms in the hotel room (and hidden, too), we were able to get a pass - so we were able to get Jimmy's stuff to his room (in the Nimitz Hall), with the help of another Seaman (who liked that Jimmy's into Anime). I get to his room, and then I notice the sign that says no females and no civilians, so I made sure he had his stuff and went down to an area where I thought I could be - I didn't want him to get in trouble on his second day there.

The Naval Nuclear Power Training Center (or NNPTC) is a beautiful place, looking not unlike a college campus, the rooms looking like college dorms, rather than military barracks. His classes (or whatever) were to start Monday.

We decided to leave a day early, on Sunday. That was okay with Jimmy, since he still had things to do, ironing - setting up his side of his room and such. But it wasn't easy to say goodbye. We told him to save his money and buy himself some new glasses. He'll have a 15-day liberty at Christmastime - and will come home then. He wants to look for a new car. I think a bike would be good for right now.

We had decided to go home a different way: northwest from Atlanta to Nashville and I40. The Hubby woke me up at 3am saying he couldn't sleep and let's just go. He wanted to go as fare as he could. I told him to take his time and be comfortable. So, of course, he decided to be macho man and drive all the way home in the one day - about 20 hours, with potty, meal and gas breaks. We got home at about 10:45 pm. The Hubby said he's never doing that again! I told him I didn't want him to do it then.

Since Jimmy's going to be there for a year and a half (or as he put it, "6 months, and 6 months, and 6 months), we're going to go back about this time next year.

A great vacation.

This Day Isn't Ending Quick Enough

4:45 pm cst

I get off at 6:30 pm cst.

AAAARGH!!

Oh, Jimmy called the Hubby on his cel phone. I guess everything went okay, I didn't get many specifics. Now he's just kinda waiting around for graduation. The Hubby told him we would meet him there, that we were on the other side of the river. Which is true, but we may be a little farther south than him, I had a devil of a time trying to find a hotel near the base. It doesn't help when I'm blocked from government and military web sites. And, can somebody tell me why? Is there someway of getting to porn from navy.mil?

5:05 pm.

Well, I guess the M-in-L talked the Hubby out of taking the dogs. Yeah, I was disappointed (and kind of annoyed I was left out of the decision), and I know I'll worry, but it'll be good for it to just be us two. Kind of the Honeymoon we never had. Hell, I might even have sex! Hopefully my cymbalta doesn't take that away, now that I'm feeling better.

Still haven't heard from the kid. Don't exactly know what's going on. I'm pretty confident of him graduating from basics, but it would be nice to know. Hopefully he'll remember Randy's cel phone number. Yeah, I know I'm beating a dead horse on that.

I may be feeling better (much!), but some of my obsessive worries go on.

Well, we're leaving for Charleston on Wednesday, in case we decided to stop halfway. Me, the Hubby, and boys (Bubba and Cooter) taking the Tahoe and driving there. We're taking the Tahoe because it has a new engine and transmission, and is way more comfortable for the Hubby. Since he's driving, his comfort is what it's all about. Hey, I can sleep almost anywhere. We had a hard time deciding whether or not to take the boys. We were concerned that they wouldn't get the level of care they're used to. Cooter's pretty easy going, but Bubba's picky: he's particular about where he'll poop, he can be off the leash at the M-in-L's but you have to watch him. We were afraid the M-in-L would just put him on a chain in the backyard, and he won't poop that way. So, the boys are going, and I found a hotel that accepts pets.

Jimmy's supposed to be going to charleston an hour or two after graduation. Problem is, we know the gist of where he'll be, but don't really know how to contact him once he's there. He called us last Thursday or Friday, but we weren't at home. He's been told to call the Hubby's cel phone - he always has that.

Just one more work day!!! Just one!!! I haven't been this excited and happy..... well, in near memory. If I was bipolar, I'd say I'm close to mania.

Cry-y, Whiney Day

Guess what I ran out of on Friday?

The weekend was fine, and I started out today okay, but it's been a slow slide downhill.

I didn't actually start out okay, Cooter kept trying to wake me up, from about 3:30 on. And he's a persistant Coot - he'll stand on my chest and lick my face if it isn't covered, then nibble on my feet if they're not covered. If everything's covered (and I don't like my head being covered - I feel like I'm suffocating), he'll lay down and whine. I gave up at 4:30, walked the boys and napped on the couch (having weird dreams) until 6:30, when I had to get ready for work. To be fair to the boys, it was an hour later than normal.

I get to work, and there are already 13 people on hold. Geez, people, I don't give a crap about your travel problems today. Have some responsibility for your own reservations.

Jimmy is down to 10 days now. I'm looking forward to Charleston. I found a cool walking tour - Ghosts of Charleston - I found it on CNN. Just now, Googling, I also found this one, Ghosts & Legends of Charleston. Luckily Jimmy's going to be there a while, I can't see all I want to in just one little visit.

On a scale of 1 to 10:

My anxiety is an 8.
My depression is about a 7.

Can today just be over?

Well, I do still have a job. I'm not quite sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Jimmy called on Saturday. On my cel phone. While I was at work. Kinda got in trouble with the supervisor. Horrors!! I didn't put my job before my family!! I took a personal call when I was supposed to be attached to the phone!!

I have only three words to say:
Kiss. My. Ass.

I didn't get to talk to him very long, but he sounds good. He wants us to blow off Chicago (Ha! Blow off! Ha!), because he goes to Charleston, SC just a couple hours later. He does want us to come to Charleston, because he'll have a 3 day liberty once he's processed (or whatever). I'm pretty sure I have the vacation time, but I'm not sure all the days are available.

Wow!! Who Knew?!

My blog is worth $1,693.62.
How much is your blog worth?

Via Skippy.

The New and Improved Me!

Well, maybe not new. I still have some negative thoughts running around my brain, but I'm trying to replace them.

I go back to work on Friday. There have been some issues about that. Like my work was never told by the Short Term Disability people that my claim had been approved. They told me on the phone and, silly me, assumed my work also knew, so I didn't call in. They had me counted as "No-Call, No-Show", which, in call center terms, is bad. My HR person at work told me to call them again, and I did, and they were supposed to refax to the claims department (does anybody know what the hell is going on?). That very day I get a letter saying my STD was approved. Jesus H. Christ!! Sooo, I never did call in, soooo we'll see Friday if I have a job. I'm not really worried about it (the unimproved me would have been), I have my letter and my new quasi-assertiveness going for me.

We'll see how it goes.

I need to visit the facilities, and then potty the boys, so I better go for now.

Sunday Thoughts

I finally got a letter from Jimmy at Great Lakes Naval Station. It turns out he had sent out an earlier letter but didn't put a stamp on the envelope.

Since I was up front about what happened to me, he reminded me that suicide is bad. He also says his life sucks, he gets yelled at all the time, has little time for calls, you know normal basic training stuff. He's wondering if he made the right decision. he called hope a plague.

He also said not to bother with graduation, because just a couple of hours later, he'll be going on the Charleston and Nuke School. He says it would be better to visit him during his 15 day leave at Christmastime. Yeah, good luck for me to get time off then.

But it was good to hear from him. He still has his wry sense of humor.

I'll probably have to go back to work at the end of next week. I may be ready, but I'm not looking forward to it. I am sooooo burned out of that job! I mean I love the people and the company has been pretty good to me, but I'm sick of it. I want to do something I enjoy, something I'm meant to do. I just don't have a clue as to what that is. I'd like to go to college. Maybe that would be a good first step.

And no, I still haven't done my therapy homework.

Re: "Recruit McNey Reporting for Duty"

It's been one month today. I just realized that. I've now sent him three letters and have only received one. Yes, I know he's busy. What can I say? I know he's a man now, but I'm still a mother.

A mother but not a mother hen; the ex has been calling pretty regularly (ik). First to see if Jimmy was still here, that he needed to say goodbye. Then to see if I had the address, and hell, yeah I did, but the Hubby didn't tell him that. The last time was to say (I guess) he'd had a call from Jimmy, and the Hubby, not gently, told him not to call anymore.

There's a part of me that says, "well he should have called me, too!!" Like I said just before, he's a man now. I'm going to let him be a man, even if I don't like it. And, again he IS busy, and he's never really been one to write, and if 3 of the 6 girls I've given his address to are in contact with him, who knows, he might not have any spare time left.

Today is day 2 of Birthday Week. Yesterday would have been Mama's 81st birthday. Today is my deceased F-in-L's birthday, tomorrow is MY BIRTHDAY, Friday is the B-in-L's birthday (but he doesn't count), and Saturday is Jimmy's. I've already told Jimmy he needs to aim for October 17th. No reaction.

Still being lazy about Therapy homework, journaling, timeline, letters to my parents. I'm starting to get a little apprehensive about going back to work. I need to find out what I want to do, and go back to school. I can't take any more mind-numbing, soul-destroying jobs. I really DO need to think about me and my needs. AAAAnnnndddd I need to be more assertive, and I need to set and keep boundaries.

I'm still working on those last two.

Well, I Should Be Working

I'm supposed to be doing a timeline and jounaling for my group therapy. But I haven't done either. Well, I've wrote down some of my past: 0-6 that I can remember and some of 7-12. But, damn, most of what I went through after 3rd grade (when I got spanked for not finishing my work, not a big deal to most, but I made it a big deal), it seems like I created myself. I still say, if I had taken Mama's advice (Laugh with them! Kind of in the mode of "Never let them see you sweat."), the merciless teasing would have went away. I decided to look at myself through depression-colored glasses (and just what color IS depression).

To a degree, I feel (look!! I'm using I statements!) like I'm both connected with my group, and disconnected. Most had really crappy childhoods (involving alcohol, abuse or both), but I didn't. I knew I was loved by a big group of people, Mama and Daddy, Aunt (pronounced Ain't) Ninnie, Grandma (technically my great-grandma), Grandma Ben (Mama's mama), Grandmother (Daddy's mom), and uncounted aunts and uncles and cousins, and even my sister. But I still had this huge sense of self loathing, and a raging social phobia that went light years beyond my natural reticence, that I can't really connect with anything.

And, I don't know what I said, but now their griping at the Hubby. Saying he's some kind of attention hog because of his disease, and that's not true. Now, if I try to get them to take that back, I'll be the one in denial. Yeah, the Hubby has his problems. Yeah, he should probably be the one in group therapy, doing his time line. But I'm the one who went beyond suicidal talk, to having the pills in my hand. I can only help me, and that's what I'm doing. But, I swear, get off my husband's back!! I'm not babying him, I care about him. I'll love him forever, and be with him until he or I die.

Oh, and there's a new guy in group. Bipolar, about 10 years older than me. I swear I get fucking annoyed (another I statement!) with him! It's like he's proud of the 35 years of therapy and hospitalizations and medications. Ok, maybe he should be proud of that, in a way, but does he have to lord it over us. I really can't stand know-it-alls, even mentally ill ones. I feel like he's trying to take over and show us all up (oooh! I'm getting good at that!).

So, maybe I should be ready to go back to work on Monday. Maybe I need to fly out of the nest, though if you would have asked me last week about that, I'd have said you're nuts.

As for me, I'm still leaning toward Bipolar II. But hell, I don't know.

Shocked...and Numb

Again, I want to thank my readers for their concern! It's really been a help.

On the insurance front, I still haven't received my cards, but was told by my HR that I could print out copies off the web. So I was able to do that. Since I got the low option, I still have to pay 30%, which for SHARE at ST Anthony's is around $66 A DAY.

Yeah, tell me that THAT doesn't push one of my anxiety buttons!

On the therapy front, I'm still trying to do my timeline, but my past wasn't that traumatic. My therapist has suggested I may be Bipolar. I was completely shocked, I mean, pick my jaw up off the floor time! In my mind, I have never been manic. Part of my homework, besides the timeline, was reading up on Bipolar. It seems like I may have Bipolar II, which has milder manic episodes, called "hypomania". Which, like I said, I can't tell you I've ever had. But also, you could have recurring depressive episodes (yes), be either resistant to antidepressants or they stop working after awhile (yes).

The only thing I can compare the way I'm feeling to is when I learned at around 16 I had epilepsy (no, I don't have seizures anymore). The shocked, numb feeling giving way to the "well, that answers that" feeling. Right now I'm still more shocked than relieved.

Oh, that brings up another thing I read, some study says (or implied, or whatever) that people with epilepsy are more prone to Bipolar.

I may have answers now, let's see what happens next.

A Big Thank You...

To those concerned about me.

I'm now in an outpatient program, also at St Anthony's. I'm really impressed by it. I'm feeling alot better, but have a ways to go.
But now I'm having insurance problems - with the switch from being an employee of Company A, to being an employee of a separate company, whose client is Company A, I was supposed change insurance. It was supposed to be as of October 1, I have recieved no new insurance information. My doctor's don't want me to go back to work, and I really have to agree, but right now feel like I may not have any choice. This sucks, it just goddamned well sucks!

I guess I owe my handful of readers an explanation.

I've been going downhill for a while now. Yeah, I know, "Like, I can't tell!!" Week before last with the anxiety, last week the Hubby found out about being overdrawn. And all of a sudden life didn't seem like living. I grabbed my secret stash of sleeping pills that didn't work right on the Hubby, a cup of water and went out to my car. The Hubby called me on the cell phone telling me he had called the sheriff. It was like something broke through, I still had the pills in a death grip, but I decided I didn't want to die, but I didn't want to live, either.

I didn't wait for the sheriff. I drove to my family doctor (the really cute Jesse Ray XXXXXXXX). On the way there, the Hubby called me, frantic, asking me where I am. I told him I was going to the doctor. I called for an appointment from the parking lot. "I have an appointment at 11:15," the receptionist said, at 11:20. I told her that was ok since I was already in the parking lot. So, I pretty much got right in, pills still in the death grip.

"You know I can't let you leave." he said. From there, I went, by ambulance, to Deaconess ER. They said I was to be admitted to St. Anthony, but had to have a ride. So, I called the Hubby, who hadn't heard from me in a long time and was about sick.

I was inpatient in St Anthony for 4 days.

I talk more later, there's a thunderstorm coming.

I'm Back!!

From going around the bend!

And let me tell ya, the psych ward is a trip!

I'd tell ya now, but my boys need to go potty.

Breaking News

My Aunt (pronounced ain't) Ninny has died.

She was born August of 1924, to my Great Grandma, Virginia Pendergrass, and she was also named Virginia.

Mama was born October 11, 1924, to Grandma's Daughter, Ben. Since Grandma Ben was 15 at time, Mama was raised by Grandma, who she always called Mama. They were raised as twin sisters. Even though the only thing that made them look alike was their brunette hair, they were often confused (I could never figure that out). Mama would say they would ask her, "Are you you, or are you your sister?" To which Mama would reply, "I'm me!" (At this point, I'm thinking to myself, "Are the people you grew up with STUPID?")

Mama always called Virginia "Ninny". She said Aunt Ninny tried to get her to stop when they were in high school, but you can see how that worked.

Her life has never been easy: miscarriages, worthless-ass abusive, drunk husband, a daughter who died of ovarian cancer at 24, but she was always a survivor. And she always had a smart mouth.

She deserves her rest.

Spewing...Again

But, since I have no readers (or, if readers, no commenters), nobody to tell me "Just shut the fuck up!!"

The Hubby has now found out how overdrawn we are (but over half are bank fees - crooked-ass banks!), and demanded the checkbook and my debit card.

Now, it's like I'm split in two: the depressed half, who blames everything (including the weather) on herself, wants to die (Plan A is in my purse right now - and, no, it's not some messy-ass gun); and the angry half who says it's not (all) my fault. In fact, my angry half says, I'd lay the blame at the Hubby and the M-in-L's feet. I understand (well, as much as I can) that the Hubby isn't ever going to be pain free, his condition deteriorating as time goes by, so I understand him keeping himself busy with hobbies (guns, cars, motorcycles). Why do I have to be the one to tell him "NO, you shouldn't buy whatever now." He's an adult, can't he show some self-restraint? I know I'm nowhere near perfect, but at least my phobia (or it might be a superstition) of spending money on myself (bad things happen), kind of keeps me from crazy spending(kind of).

I just wish I could be Angry Grrl, or a variation, at home, but there I'm Weepy Wanda. Afraid of everything, taking the blame for everything, no life, no future.

Well, the Hubby is probably going to learn how horribly overdrawn I am today. One look at the checkbook (I put no numbers in, if they're negative), and he starts yelling at me. I know he'll ask his mom (who works at the bank) what's going on, and learn I'm almost 400.00 in the hole. And still over half are stupid-ass bank fees. And if the Hubby didn't get his latest gun we'd be ok. And yet it's still all my fault.

Jesus Christ!!! It's like I don't want to live anymore, but I don't want to die!

"...Am Not Dead."

I finally heard from my son!! He says he dialed wrong and the phone ate his change and he had to keep moving. WHEW!! What a load off my mind.

He sounds either homesick or lonely, because he's asking for lots of letters, from family and 6 (yes, 6!) girl friends.

Being Spun

I've calmed down muchly. I'm still in the hole for almost 300.00 (and 162.00 of that are fees), but so are alot of my coworkers. And, yeah, this is really personal shit, but it has to come out. And you've got to think about the Katrina evacuees, who, like me, lived paycheck to paycheck, praying for payday when their account would be made whole (at least temporarily). Will their banks understand? I'm pretty sure the banks will be up and running before the evacuees. Will they be understanding (most likely in a "Noblesse Oblige" kind of way)? And can somebody tell me why it's ok to pay slave wages for rebuilding the Gulf Coast when the companies are probably going to make money hand over fist (in an Iraq kind of way)? And pollution should never be ok! And if I here one more thing from the Hubby and family about the poor president and it's not his fault and it's all the fault of the Mayor and the Governor - I'm just going to scream!

It makes me remember how seamless it was after the May 3rd, 1999 tornadoes. The little town of Mulhall, in Logan County north of Guthrie was pretty much wiped of the map. FEMA swept in and before you knew it the families were in temporary housing, the school was being rebuilt, and permanent houses soon followed. I know you really can't compare tornadoes to hurricanes, but you can compare the two different administrations reactions. There was the Big Dog, the last real president we had, President Clinton, it was like the day after - trash and debris everywhere (he toured Spiva Drive in Del City almost directly across from Tinker AFB - at the time I had an Aunt and a Niece who lived there) hugging and talking to real people, letting them break down and cry. It wasn't like a photo op, it wasn't manufactured, it wasn't spun.

Oh, and speaking of spinning, I am now working for somebody else, even though my job, job title, pay (so they say), location haven't changed. This change I'm not sure of. Three and a half years ago I started with one big conglomero - was spun off to one of their subsidiaries - who has now spun us off to something else - I'm not in the big conglomero at all, but they're my client!(?)

I'm Having a HUGE Anxiety Attack!!

And this is supposed to be a vacation. I didn't go anywhere, but I should be happy not to be at work.

Instead, I keep wishing I just went ahead and had a heart attack or stroke, so I didn't have to worry so much.

I'm overdrawn (waaay over), with no money coming in for a week (yes! a week!).

Damn!!

"Recruit McNey Reporting for Duty"

First he happened to say it to another recruit, so he had to start over.

"Recruit McNey reporting for duty," and he saluted smartly. "Permission to board?"
And so it has started. He doesn't actually leave until tomorrow. He has a drug test to do, and some paperwork.

Sigh.

And I bawled.

As cool as I was with his decision, I wasn't ready. Look at me, I'm about to cry now.

I've been needing to write for a while now, but what do you say? Being in the travel industry, I think the airlines could be doing more, but as they're a big money pit, they probably think they're bleeding money as it is. Hey, how 'bout you not pay your CEO's megamillions? Case in point, (and yes, I get the willies about blogging about work) a woman had purchased tickets to go to her dad's birthday (a big one, like 80), from New Orleans to wherever. The airline would either let her reissue without the fee (but would still have to pay the difference in fare to change the outbound city) or refund the whole thing. The passenger wanted to use the tickets, but didn't have the money to change, so is getting the refund. Can I repeat that? SHE WANTED TO USE THE TICKETS. Go to the airlines web page and read their arcane hurricane rules.

Less than a week to go. Really not sure if it's Monday or Tuesday. Still would like to see him off at the airport, or bus station (which in OKC, is not a great place to hang around), but I don't think that's possible. Still haven't planned any going away thing. I am SO not good at that (well, I am Ms. Not Together). I told Jimmy my sister (Ms. Together) asked if I was having a going away party. He said, "Are you happy I'm going away?" As always, Mr. Sarcasm.
"NOOOO!" I don't remember what else I said, except: "I don't know what to have. Ice Cream and cake were suggested."
"I like cake," Jimmy answered.

Who doesn't.

I've also kind of decided that recruiters need to make sure the recruit's mother isn't in or near PMS on the entry date. That's....part of my problem. And...it still seems like forever to me. He's such a great kid...guy. I'm really proud of him.

I've decided I'm as bleeding heart liberal as they come. Even if I have noone to talk/bitch to about our incompetent government. Katrina is another thing I can't discuss with the Hubby. And I'm not real sure about my family, either. I'm...different. But, I'll tell ya, I'd rather have a bleeding heart and want to try to help everyone, than a heart of stone that only softens to seven figures. I have never seen such callousness. They put Nixon to shame. There he is, (if there is a God) standing in Hell, weeping with joy.

If anybody reads this, I need someone to talk to.

A Couple Things...

I need to post about.

Friday my niece got remarried at the rose garden in Will Rogers Park. It was hotter'n hell, but otherwise a dream: a beautiful bride, a handsome groom, her brother-in-law officiating.

It almost makes you optimistic about society when you see two people so much in love, and the two families celebrating that love.

Two weeks now. Two weeks until Jimmy goes in. I need Monday off now - I'm not sure how that'll go. I don't think the day is available for vacation, so I'll have to ask the ONE (yes, only one) person who has Monday off in my department to trade. It's just so close.

The hubby has suggested that instead going to Graduation at Great Lakes in November, have a longer vacation during a liberty at wherever-the-hell he is next. I guess I can see his point. I'd only have the one day with him in Chicago, whereas later can be a longer time. But, damn, I don't get to go anywhere! This isn't over yet.

Notes on the Weekend

Me and the Hubby visited with Jimmy's recruiter while we were doing our running around Thursday. Because Jimmy tells us nothing (which makes my mother in heaven laugh-but with me, not at me). They've been making him exercise, so basics won't be such a shock. They've been wanting to see him as often as possible, but I guess the only phone numbers they had were home and his work, Braum's in Guthrie. Yes, I was bad, I gave him Jimmy's cel phone number. Having never dealt with recruiters, they seem to sincerely want him to succeed. He's also supposed to be reading the crapola in a little booklet, but he hasn't. But he always was a last minute assignment worker. Geez, can time slow down?! Can it be only 2 weeks away?

News Break

This is major. W is tanking in Oklahoma!!

You know, I read a lot of blogs. Most of them write off Oklahoma as full of mindless automatons (or my favorite analogy, the Borg), accepting as gospel whatever trash repubbbs spew. And while there are many, many of the already assimilated that fit that description, it doesn't really begin to describe the actual diversity of OK.

This makes me feel a little better

Via Altercation.

I don't usually do political commentary, mostly because I don't consider myself smart enough to do it right. I still hold with Socrates statement: The only thing I know is I know nothing. But I'm willing to learn.

But here's something I have to comment on.

Pope Decries 'Cruel Fanaticism' of Terrorists
from channeloklahoma.com

And also this:

Pope Seeks Immunity in Texas Abuse case
From americablog

I am SO not a religious person, and, in fact, think religion is what's wrong with the world right now. But this popped into my mind (and yes, I had to google to find it):
Luke 6
41 And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but perceivest not the beam that is in thine own eye?

Jimmy's last day at work was Thursday. In what seems highly ironic to me, since Jimmy worked at the Guthrie Braum's just over a year, the manager ordered pizza from the Pizza Hut around the corner. Jimmy told me he requested Hawaiian style (ham and pineapple) because, a. he likes it, and b. is almost guaranteed to have some left over for him to take home. Smart kid. I had never had Hawaiian before, it was pretty good. He flew down to his Dad's for the weekend. I don't really understand why he doesn't stay for awhile. But I guess "ours is not to reason why".

Also this week, his car was tagged. "My Dream Guy" on the back window, and I (heart) U on the driver's side rear window. The Hubby asked him about it, and he said he did it himself (right). On the way to the airport he admitted it was a girl, who has left for college, and gave him her phone number (!). I told him girls who give their phone numbers generally want to be called.
"Yeah. I don't know how that works," was his reply.
"I can't tell ya. I tended to marry the guys I dated," I said.
Two shy people - the blind leading the blind.

Time is rushing on. September will be here in no time. SLOOOOW DOOOOWN.
After basic and his additional training, Jimmy says he thinks he'd like to be in Seattle. The weather's cool and rainy and also because of the music scene.

SIGH.

I Survived!

The attack of Worm!!

It hit my work sometime between 2:00 and 2:30 pm CDT. At first, I told people to call back in about an hour, then two. Then we learned it was actually a BIG DEAL, was nationwide, we told people unless it was an emergency to call back tomorrow. And I read my book, Guns , Germs, and Steel by Jared Diamond. Still a slow go, but very interesting. The system still wasn't up when I left at 6:30pm. But I have definately decided, well, when I have money, I'm getting a Mac.

Nothing really going on on the home front. The dog alarm still goes off between 5:00 - 5:30am, only occasionally can I ignore it - until about 6:00. Otherwise, still tired, still depressed, still think something's not right with me (if not really wrong). But I'm of two minds about whether I should go to the doctor, part says yes, part says no (and then gets to tell the Hubby and the doctor, "I told you so!" when something bad DOES happen). Right now I'm leaning toward no, since we're low on cash, and it seems like such a waste of money.

And we're down to the last 4 weeks, roughly, before Jimmy goes in. Through the M-in-L, I learned it's September 13, not the 15. And as much as I was the one who said Jimmy should go to college outside of both Oklahoma and Texas, I am SO NOT dealing well with this. It's embarassing. I've never been the clingy mom. But there's a little voice inside, telling me in a month he's going to be gone FOREVER. NO. Not dealing well.

But I am looking forward to going to Chicago sometime in November.

Finished HP6...

Again.

Dumbledore knew Malfoy was supposed to kill him. Harry told him about the unbreakable vow Snape took. So he knew he was going to die. That's why he was taking so many chances on teaching Harry about Tom Riddle/Voltemort. And that potion could have been a slow acting poison.

I've just barely started Guns, Germs and Steel. Jimmy's right, it's a slow go. I'm going to slog through it somehow.

One month from tomorrow.

Hi-Freakin'-Larious

TBoggs take on conservatives.

It's too early in the morning to be busting a gut.

I got tired of my old template. I need to reattach my blogroll, but that'll be later, since it's another thing blocked at work.

I think this one, while plain, is still upbeat. And anything that makes me happy, or at least smile, is a GOOD THING.

Adventures in Blood Letting

Today was the blood drive. I always attempt donation. Well, when it's the Oklahoma Blood Institute, which has a knowledgeable, caring staff, great, quality t-shirts and excellent snacks. I will never give blood with the Red Cross again (they hurt me, and have flimsy t-shirts, and no snacks, and did I mention THEY HURT ME).

I've had occasions, in my blood-giving adult life, where I couldn't donate. Mostly because of low iron (which is what the icky finger-stick is for - they put a drop into a vial containing blue liquid and if it floats - low iron - no go). But today, before I even got to the icky finger-stick part, I had to have my tempurature taken three times! The first time was 100.0 (which kind of alarmed me because I feel fine) and a no-go. The second was 99.6, one tenth off. Then I went and got a drink of water, and then had to wait a bit because I did get a drink of water - 99.4 and acceptable. After that, it was pretty routine. Although I did have to wait for the blood pressure cuff, they had only brought one in the Blood-mobile. The tourniquet wasn't doing it for my finicky veins. Got to watch most of that King Arthur movie, where Arthur is a Roman soldier. Pretty good.

Of course the best thing is being off the phone for almost 2 hours!

Worth it's weight in blood.

Me and the Hubby spent the weekend thinking about what we would do if I had sold my mineral rights (Hah! right!) for the offered $312,000. Pay off the house we said. Buy me a new car. Buy the Hubby the Quigley rifle replica and travel to Montana to pick it up. It was nice to imagine for a bit being Jed Clampett. Of course, I'm not going to sell my mineral rights. I can almost hear Daddy telling me, "You better not!!"

But I am painfully ignorant of oil/gas lease/royalty...stuff. I've printed a pamphlet from the National Association of Royalty Owners on oil and gas leasing that's been helpful. But I still haven't found an answer to my question "Do royalties actually amount to anything?" Which is, right now, a counting-chickens-before-they're-hatched type of question. But if there's some schmo willing to pay me serious coin for my rights, royalties must amount to some serious coin, right?

Oh, I finished HP5, and have started HP6, but I'm not sure I'll finish. I might go on to Guns, Germs and Steel. It's still hard to think of Snape as all bad, and that Dumbledore was a fool for believing his lies. Snape may be more accomplished at what's-it-called, Occlumency, than Dumbledore. But there's something missing. And I won't learn for 2 years what!! Crap!!

Well, My ability to blog at work is back, but I can't see my Haloscan comments.

And I have now finished HP5, but left both HP6 and Guns, Germs and Steel at home. Jimmy wasn't actually finished with it, he said it was too slow a go (which doesn't bode well for the book). Know having read the whole of Harry Potter again, I still think Snape isn't bad. There's just something that hasn't been told yet. And the thought I have to wait for TWO WHOLE YEARS (at least), AAARRRGGGHH!!

In The Words of the Immortal -

Popeye...

I've had all I can stands, I can't stands nomore!!

I've been blocked from blogging at work. One of the few things that kept my head on straight (even though it bugs the crap out of me that I have so few readers).

There are things I don't do.

• I don't download crap onto my work computer (well, didn't. Well, except for the Naveen Andrews background).
• I don't do anything while I'm on the phone.
• I don't blog much about my job, I don't identify my employer.

You know, I know it's their right, but it's my sanity.

Well, damn, thunder, got to go.

I Feel Better Today

Well, a little better.

I've kind of decided that it's better to just go ahead and get up when Cooter starts to lick and nibble, than expend the energy to avoid him.

OH, and I've finished HP4 and have started 5.

I'm Crashing Today

BIG.

For no discernable reason.

Lazy Sunday

I'm still into HP4. Taking a break from it.

I think I'm not going to leave anybody comments anymore. The reasons?
Let's see:

1. I'm prone to serious depression.
2. I have no self-esteem.
3. I have little self-confidence.

I have to say I'm not completely untalented, I know people who can talk all day long, but can't put two words together in writing. Yeah, I can write forever, but basically about myself and the things around me. And my life is boring. I just end up feeling SO STUPID!

How can I say my 5 or 6 stories that cycle in my head are any good? Just because I like them doesn't make them good. I may not be exactly stupid, but I'm certainly not smart.

You know, as a fat, shy, ugly kid, all I wanted was to belong. Because I didn't. All I wanted to be when I grew up was RICH AND FAMOUS. I guess that's why I always loved the odd times we picked Mama up at the Black Hotel. Everybody knew me and said hello to me.

I always felt like I was meant for something, that I was special. But I'm nothing. I'm nobody. And, yeah, knowing that kind of hurts.

Well, I'm going back to lose my self in HP4.

It's a workday Saturday. Hopefully not busy.

HP-wise, I've now finished 3 and am on 4. I'm still not convinced Snape is all bad. Jimmy's reading Guns, Germs and Steel - and evidently it's a slow read, it's been, like, a week and he hasn't finished it yet. I'll read it next.

And I have informed both the Hubby and Jimmy that I am not in their little war. I've also informed the Hubby that I think he's being to hard on Jimmy. His room isn't messy, and his closet is mostly still moving boxes full of old toys (and if you don't like it, don't look in it). I've told the Hubby that this is what normal kids go through at the 14-16 range (when Jimmy was busy being an honor student). And, if you think about it, The Hubby ought to be glad he's having such a hard time with Jimmy. It means, well, to me at least, Jimmy has fatherish feelings towards The Hubby, that he cares enough to rebel against. Does that make sense to anybody but me?

Oh, and the dog alarm has been going off between 5:00am and 5:30am. Bubba's woofs I can ignore, but Cooter licks and nibbles, first me then The Hubby.

The Hubby's getting a new engine put in his '95 Tahoe to match the new transmission put in early in the year. The new engine and transmission are still way cheaper than buying a new car. So I have now pinned the Hubby down as driving to Chicago in November. YAY!! I love to travel!!

I just don't get to do it much.

I finished 2, have started 3.

I'm still slightly blue. I'm at work, grudgingly. But I don't want to be at home either. The Hubby had a big giant fight with Jimmy. Same old stuff, messy room (I don't think so), messy car that he doesn't take care of, except this time he added about not sended thank you cards. I had called home at lunch, the Hubby didn't sound like he felt well (chest pains and the like), so I asked him what was wrong and he told me of the fight. And, again, that he's going to kick Jimmy out. Then he went on to add that nobody does anything unless he tells them to. I got angry (because I was included in his list) and hung up.

I hate my life. I'm not sure I want to be in it anymore.

I did get an odd letter yesterday. Some nobody oil company wants to buy my mineral rights for $650.00 an acre. I was shocked. It makes me think I'll actually get royalties some day. But to me the oil lease money was nice, and I did get a nice house and got to live like I wanted to for, like, 2-3 months, but I never expected to get anything else out of it.

more later.

Now To Do What I Do Best...

Obsess about myself.

Now that I'm working the 4-day, 10-hour shift, my days off are Thursday, Friday and Sunday. I have no excuse to miss going to the M-in-L for breakfast and to read the paper. The hubby's brother and his wife (aka Mr. and Mrs. Know it all - Mrs. K-it-A just happens to be the Hubby's ex) are usually there - hogging the paper, and talking about how important they are, making me wish I was at work.

Mrs. K-it-A asks me when Jimmy goes in. I tell her the middle of September.
"Well, that's a long time!" she says.
Mr. K-it-A chuckles and says, "Not really!"

So why did that bother me? To me September feels like tomorrow. And then my son's going to be gone forever, and I'm the only one who cares.

I realize that's probably irrational (such is my life), but I can't seem to shake it. And I was always the one who wanted him to go to college outside of the OK-TX area, so he could be his own man. What the hell is wrong with me?! If he's strong, pretty level headed and has a wide independent (or stubborn) streak, doesn't that mean I did SOMETHING right?!

I just can't shake it. It gets tied up in the memories of visiting Grandmother (Daddy's Mom), Sundays in Clinton, OK - less than once a month. Except now it's going to be me.

Again I ask: What the HELL is wrong with me?!!

Well, I finished The Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon. It is really good, but left me thinking about the character Sammy Clay.

But...but...but... What about Sammy?

It was one of those books, I could really get into the characters. But the ending left me feeling, "And then what?" I almost couldn't finish it (a la Wicked), but I forced myself.

I need to see if Jimmy has anymore books I haven't read, until then I've decided to cycle through the HP books again (I'm on book 2 now).

Some Thoughts on HP and the H-B P

Because my son won't discuss it with me!

SPOILER ALERT!!

Yes, Dumbledore is dead. He portrait is now hanging in the Headmaster's (mistresses?) office. The question is did he know he was going to be offed, and by who? Is that why he was taking so many risks, he knew he had to get as much done in as quick a time as possible? As much as I dislike Snape, I can't believe he's all bad. I mean, yeah, he's not all good, but the book's reasons for being bad - just didn't jibe with me. Yes, Dumbledore looked for the good in everybody, but he wasn't a patsy. This was a set up for both HP and Draco, IMHO.

I've read on other sites that HP is the last horcrux, yes I see that as a good possibility, but I don't want to think of HP sacrificing himself (after all, my son looks just like him, san scar). I can see him on in adulthood, married to Ginny (who'll be going with HP, Ron, and Hermione, hopefully along with Neville and Luna), with his children (Lily, James, Sirius - and one other) around him asking him to tell them the story of....(yet another time).

About the fake horcrux, and the initials R.A.B., I was thinking it was Regulus Black. But then I read somebody, who, rightly so, stated how could Kreacher then be controlled by HP? What if, I say, Regulus is also an unregistered animagus? Say - Crookshanks? I'd like it to be that. I'd like to hear other opinions (but geez, I only have, like, 4 readers).

I'm ready for the next one!!

D'OH!! Another two years!!

Sigh.

Oh, well, back to The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay.

I Just Finished!!

And OH MY GOD!!

This isn't a book to read at work. Especially at a call center.

I Got Mine! Did You Get Yours?

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, that is. My son picked mine up after he got off work, technically this morning. He's reading it now. I just finished If Chins Could Kill, Bruce Campbell's autobiography, and can start on The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon, while he finishes.

I'm at work today, having an emense anxiety attack. The (maybe, maybe not) irrational fear of being fired is kicking my ass today. And no, I don't like my job anymore, but everything is on my shoulders. And it bugs me. As the day goes by, I'm feeling a little better. The shooting pain in my neck is gone.

And yeah, I know I'm being selfish, and childish.

Warning! The Below May Be PMS!

I've decided that I'm sick. I'm sick of living. I'm sick of being such a drudge. I hate my job. I still think I'm going to be fired. Yes, I know that may or may not be irrational.

Yeah, I know how damn blessed I should feel. I'm heathy, I have a wonderful son, and on and on. I know all of that shit.

I just don't want to live like this anymore.

No! I don't want to kill myself! I just don't really want to be alive.

Because I'm not alive. I'm some friggin' zombie. I live from paycheck to paycheck. I don't get to travel (but I have all those benefits!! yeah, right.). I could go to movies (because I don't have to have the Hubby around for that), but that gets into my irrational fear of spending money on myself. So I read, and read, and read. And if I could read for a living how great would that be! Wouldn't it be great to work in a book store (and still make what I am now, and have decent health benefits)! Or do Audra's role (the young intern on Rick and Brad on the KATT), I'm not sure I could be a DJ. Or work at a decent newspaper (not a whole lot of them in OK).

I kind of envy those depressives that can just sleep, and that's all they can do. Just let life go and sleep.

Not me.

OH, as an aside, I finished Sophie's World, I've started If Chins Could Kill, and am looking forward to Harry Potter on Saturday. Like I said, if I could read for a living, I would.

Feeling crappy today, like I have a rock in my stomach.

If I could go home, I would.

I wish it were closer to Friday.

Having kind of a crappy day. Learned I am way overdrawn. Thanks to my car payment and spending without discipline. Thankfully, we're getting a loan to replace the engine in the Tahoe, plus some to pay off the M-in-L, so once it's in the checking account everything will be pretty cool until I get paid (Friday).

Why can't I just say no?

Well, still reading Sophie's World A Novel About the History of Philosophy by Jostein Gaarder. The history of philosophy part is really interesting, the novel part so-so. Looking forward to this weekend and Harry Potter (which has been purchased since May 5).

Well, I'm going to have to agree with Socretes, the only thing I know, is that I know nothing.

Two Things About Oklahoma

This editorial in the NY Times (requires registration) about the hoo-hah at the Tulsa Zoo.

But before I can say, "makes me glad I'm an OKC girl," there's this in today's Daily disappointment:

Tribe seeks Bricktown casino
By Tony Thornton
The Oklahoman
An American Indian tribe wants to build a casino in downtown Oklahoma City or Bricktown, a move that Mayor Mick Cornett says he opposes but may be unable to stop.

This is the same city who swore to us that, if we throw money at Bass Pro, it'll bring sooo many people, and their tax dollars to Bricktown!! I've heard, from a very unreliable source, that Bass Pro isn't doing that well. It seems to me Harkins, the movie theater in Bricktown, would bring way more people to Bricktown. Oh, and they didn't have city money and perks thrown at them.

Maybe it's the heathen in me, but I think an Indian casino in Bricktown is a great idea! It seems so perfect, you can make it either westerned themed or prohibition themed.

Holy Crap!

I've been published! Ok, it's a response to yesterday's Altercation at msnbc.com, and under the real name, not the pseudonym. I can't breathe!

Both me and the Hubby got paid last Friday, and by the time I get paid again we'll be so far in the hole it's not funny. And I know it's my fault. I know I'm where the buck stops. It's just so difficult for me to say "no". "No, we can't afford it." It's easy for me to do without, I have irrational fears of spending money (bad things happen when I spend money on myself). But I guess I'm gonna have to come down hard. Sorry, my "inner counselor" is clucking at me: You aren't responsible for the Hubby's happiness. No, but I can't sit back and let him drown in sorrow and self-pity, either. Been there, done that, have the bills I can't pay.

On background, the Hubby has ankylosing spondylitis (or d.i.s.h. - diffuse ideopathic skeletal hypertosis), a form of arthritis that's fused his spine together. It's also spread to his shoulders, hips, and knees. He's in pain all the time. The less he moves, the less able he is to move. So I want him occupied and active. The more occupied and active he is, the less he'll dwell on the craphole his life seems to be (to him, at least). To me, he's still the big hunky guy I married, with alot to offer. He's just ... stiff.

Hey! Read This!

This here. It's almost scary how relevant it is even today.

Purchased and finished The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. Intruiging. I liked it.

I'm reading another one of Jimmy's books, Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder. I just started it yesterday, so right now it's a little slow. And behind it will be the autobiography of Bruce Campbell, If Chins Could Kill: Confessions of a B Movie Actor. I'm not sure why he bought this one (something about him not realizing it's an autobiography). But, with that big, beautiful picture on the cover, I couldn't resist.

Like the last few years, the evening of July Fourth was spent at the Grandmother of one of Jason's (the Hubby's son) friends. And I know almost noone. I know some of the kids (well they're in the 22-23 or so year range), the Hubby, and the M-in-L. I was kind of freaked out. There was tons of food, including 3 kinds of homemade ice cream. And the beer flowed like water. And they spent hundreds (if not a thousand) of dollars on fireworks. Some of the guys, who, I guess, thought they were good looking, went shirtless - and even the thinnest was developing a beer gut (Hello! not sexy!). And, yes, I know I'm talking about guys I've known since they were in 6th grade. Mentally, they haven't changed much. Most have girlfriends or wives, but I'm not sure why. Well, I only see them all together like that once a year, and then they're falling down drunk, and playing with explosives. And I realized, that if the people were changed to my co-workers and my family, also falling down drunk and playing with explosives, I wouldn't be Miss Polly Prude, I'd be having fun, too (though I can't stand firecrackers myself, never could, the noise bothers me). So, I tried to keep myself from clucking my disapproval, and let them have fun.

I would like to think positively about the future, but hearing what our senators (dumb and dumber) are saying, and what our local tv news also, it just scares the shit out of me. What happened to our constitution? I'd like to say, "What's happened to civility and tolerance" also, but let's face it, civility was only a mask and tolerance has never existed.

I would love to shove civility and tolerance down the throat of every Christian trying to shove their particular version of God down mine.

We the people of the United States of America, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, ensure domestice traquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this constitution for the United State of America. (and a big thank you to School House Rock)


I'm just sayin'.

Oh, and the Borg can kiss my large, white, DEMOCRAT, ass.

The Hubby Has an Epiphany

"Did you know Jimmy's not mopey at work?!"

"Yeah, I knew that. He's only mopey at home."

"?!!"

It may be hump day to some....

But it's Friday to me!!! T.G.I.W, Y'all!!

Wow, way to perky. Actually feeling kinda down, kinda anxious. REALLY DID NOT want to come to work today. Have people to call I don't want to call, I'd like to tell them to just go to hell, but I can't. I just want to crawl into the dirt, and let the whole world pass overhead for a while. Of course it could have something to do with the fact it's the first Wednesday I've worked in 3 months. Or it could be...just once I'd like to dish everything that pisses me off at my peon-call center-customer service-job(Americans shouldn't travel, they're not prepared for the consequences), but since I don't want to be walked out right now... This week my new shift started - a 4 day, 10 hour one, and my new days off are Thursday, Friday and Sunday. I still have 3 mandatory OT hours to do, so I'll come in on Sunday. No biggie.

Starting to think about the trip to Chicago in November to see my son's graduation from basic. Ya know, being po' I don't get to travel much. So I haven't used the so-called "travel benefits" of my Not-to-be-Named Travel Conglomerate employer. It looks like I can get a pretty decent air fare (and refundable/changable, too!), hotels has me a little bumfuzzled. What I'm thinking may not be realistic: a couple of days near Great Lakes, a couple of days in the city, at a decent rate. I'm getting a little overwhelmed at the "and then what..." portion. I know about Second City, and Oprah (but can you actually plan on being at an "Oprah gives crap to her audience" day?). I'd like to do the Field Musuem (it'll have some Pompeii thing going on), but after that, I get kind of stuck. And I still don't have specific dates.

I finished Mirror Mirror by Gregory Maguire yesterday at work. Really good, satisfying. I guess I could start to cycle through the Harry Potter books, it might take me two weeks. Jimmy's reading a book that looks good, but I don't remember the name. I'll get it eventually.

Just under four hours to go.

Damn.

No real news on the home front. Jimmy came home yesterday. I had to pick him up at work this morning at around 12:30 am. His car has two flat tires: passengerside front and driverside rear.

Randy is still demanding an apology, but has told me he hasn't got it. Jesus, God, they both can be sooooo pissy. And so much alike.

I guess I'm going to have to sit my obstinant son down and explain to him that he isn't a "stepson" to the Hubby, he's a "son". So not being in the loop hurts his feelings.

My son is a lot like me. So when he doesn't say something to me or let me know what's going on, it's not because he's being mean, it's more being a little ditzy. Too much on the mind that pushes other things out. Or that he doesn't want a fuss to be made (like not telling me he was leading the Pledge of Allegiance).

So, last night, technically this morning, he told me he knew for about 2 weeks he was going to his dads. So why didn't you tell us, I ask. Well he didn't offcially get the week off until the last minute, which was why he couldn't fly. I wasn't asking why he didn't fly.

OT, I'm having a hard time getting into Mirror, Mirror, also by Gregory Maguire. Wicked is still fresh in my mind. On the upside, Harry Potter and the Halfblood Prince is only 3 weeks away! I've had that purchased since May 5.

Me and the Hubby went to see Mr. and Mrs. Smith yesterday. I wouldn't call it great, but we liked it.

Walking out of the theater the Hubby said, "Do ya want to work out our problems?"
I laughed and said no.

Except for not wanting to be at work today (and it feeling like Monday), I feel ok today. A little crampy, but that only means I'm starting the 3-5 days I'm NOT in PMS, and that periods bite.

Here's a list of the books I've finished lately:

Devil in the White City by Erik Larson - This is a great book. It really does read like a novel.

The Life of Pi by Yann Martel - Another really great book. Riveting.

the curious incident of the dog in the night-time by Mark Haddon - O. M. G. It's great! You completely believe you're in the mind of an autistic teen.

I never did finish Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire - it was just too sad. I was just too connected to Elphaba. I liked her.

I never finished Lonesome Dove, either. I read it when I lived in New York, '88-'89. Just too unrelentingly sad. Too much death.

I did finish Cujo, but didn't read another Stephen King novel for like 15 years. The ending bit.

Another ending I didn't like: The World According to Garp. Still a good book, though.

Storm's Passed

And it was a quick squall - to the Hubby. It's over, it's done with and he's happy.

Which is something I don't understand. It's like a virus in me, multiplying until it knocks me on my ass.

My husband is still hurt and angry at Jimmy for his perceived secrecy and plotting with his dad behind his back.

My Marriage May Be Over

Or, I could be making a mountain out of a molehill. I do that quite well.

About 9pm last night, I noticed Jimmy was home. Geez, scares the hoo out of me, it's like he appears out of nowhere! I don't hear his car, him openning the door, or walking across the carpet to his room. He's just there, and I go give him a hug, and he asks if he could get a ride to his work tomorrow morning. He says his dad wants to see him for a week. I say that's cool.

But Mt. St Randy erupts. He yells if he goes down there, he's never to come back. And he should have told us what's going on. And then he goes into all my problems (mostly housework related, and no, having a full-time job that's 45 miles away from my house doesn't count). He blows up that way for a while, then ends up whining that I don't want to do anything for him, That he just had surgery, he shouldn't be doing this, and on, and on.

But as a switch, I didn't get suicidal, I got angry and sullen. Now I'm still angry, but also sad and confused.

I want to cry on someone's shoulder, but I don't want to bother people with my problems.

I want to be accepted the way I am - warts and all.

Is that wrong?!

Leave My PBS Alone!!

As you can tell by my Blogroll, I love my progressive posters. I myself, while being rabidly Democrat, it's hard for me to write about it. And being shy, it's hard for me to talk about.

But I'm tired...

And I'm frustrated...

and now they're fucking with my PBS (and yes, I consider it MY PBS)! They're claiming to bring "balance", but this (requires registration - ick) isn't balance:

E-mail messages obtained by investigators at the Corporation for Public Broadcasting show that its chairman, Kenneth Y. Tomlinson, extensively consulted a White House official shortly before she joined the corporation about creating an ombudsman's office to monitor the balance and objectivity of public television and radio program.

(Oh, and I'm sorry if I'm stepping on any copyrighting toes - I don't mean to) As I understand the term "ombudsman", it doesn't mean toeing the Repub party line. In fact, this is what it means:

Noun

ombudsman
An appointed official whose duty is to investigate complaints, generally on behalf of individuals such as consumers or taxpayers, against institutions such as companies and government departments.

From Wiktionary.

Now which individuals are complaining about PBS?

And I don't give a crap what your beliefs are. They're yours, you are entitled to them. Just don't shove them down my throat. That's one thing good about being quiet and shy, we might think you're a jack-booted Nazi, but we would never say so.

I don't know. Maybe I live in a fantasy world (lets make it TNG), but what happened to courtesy, to civility? If you're going to say something that would make your horrified mother say, "That's not nice!", why say it? (and DOES Rush Limbaugh kiss his mother with that mouth?) And no, I'm not talking about a return to the repressive Victorian era, some (god! not me) may want that genie back in the bottle, but it's not going to happen. I'm talking about not acting like a school yard bully.

I guess that's why I'll always prefer the big tent of the Democrats (even if we're arguing amongst ourselves), to the Republican Borg.

And if they ever come to take me to that nice, new Haliburton prison in Gitmo, thanks to their slavish devotion to the 2nd Amendment, it won't be without a fight.

A Rare Day-off Posting

The hubby's asleep in his chair. Laundry is rinsing. Bubba and Cooter want to go for a walk (ostensibly to potty, but really to see the the dogs next door, Sparky and Max are outside). So I don't have a lot of time.

I know I need to get back to my story, but lately my head hasn't been in it. It's getting there.

Did the normal day-off walking of the M-in-L's pasture (she has, like, 40 acres), that the Hubby does every day. Towards the back, along a fence line, in between some sandplums are blackberries!! That aren't being eaten by whatever critters live around there!! Really tart, but really tasty!

Well, the laundry sound's like it's done, and Bubba's still whining and moaning, so I better go.

I feel a little better this morning.

I mean, I still feel worthless, a zero, that my life really isn't worth living, but I don't exactly want to kill myself right now.

I still wish I had readers.

I feel so alone.

Update

Checkbook's overdrawn.

Husband yelled at me.

Seriously crashing.

You know...I tried to be happy, to feel like I'm worth something, that every day is a new day and my life is worth living, but, damn... I'm just fooling myself. I'd like to think I have talent in my writing, but I don't. I'm not the worst person at my job, but that doesn't really count, anybody can do it.

There's just no point.

You know I wrote below about my son's screwing off his senior year. And how I'd never seen one report card, or class progress report.

Well...

I got his final report card (paper?) in the mail, oh, like, Friday. And my idea of screwing off and his idea of screwing off are two different things.

He at the end of the year he had 4 B's and 3 A's.

Looking at the breakdown there are some things from the first semester I would have been concerned about: He had C's in Yearbook in the first semester (A's the second); he also had C's in AP English (but pulled out a final B) - yeah, that one would have hacked me off (that one he did screw off). And then there's Honors Calculus, the class I told him he couldn't quit (but he did anyway). If I did it all over I would say the same thing, "NO, you have a B! That's not 'not getting it'!" I got out of Del City High School with a 1.7 GPA (not to mention getting out of grade school knowing no math at all), I know about "not getting it" and screwing off.

There is nothing wrong with an honest D, if you worked your hardest to get it. Somebody (hello...hello...hello...) please explain this to me. Is this some kind of honor student/perfectionist dealie?

But, yeah, my first look at his grades were with a good deal of confusion. I went into his room and said, "These grades aren't bad, I don't know why you wouldn't show them to me!"
"Well that's just barely a B (in English)."

OK.

And he's MY son! Wow.

I have some thoughts about this from media girl and Steve Gilliard (via Atrios).

First from this article (yes, registration required):

Last fall when my Arlington high school senior finally got the nerve to tell me that he’d gotten a C in the first quarter of his AP English class, I did what any self-respecting, grade-obsessed parent whose son is applying to college would do. I cried. Then I e-mailed his teacher and made an appointment for the three of us to meet. My son’s teacher was accommodating. She agreed that if my son did A work for the second quarter, colleges would see a B average for the two quarters, not that ruinous C.

There’s a term for the legions of parents like me. The parents who make sure to get the teacher’s e-mail and home phone number on Back to School Night. The kind who e-mail teachers when their child fails a quiz. The kind who apply the same determination to making sure their child excels academically that they apply to the professional world.

We are called "helicopter parents" because we hover over everything our kids do like Secret Service agents guarding the president. (My son refers to me as an Apache attack helicopter, and he’s Fallujah under siege.) Only we aren’t worried about our kids getting taken out by wild-eyed assassins. We just want them to get into a "good" (whatever that means) college.

Yes, I had a kid who spent, pretty much, his entire school life in the Gifted and Talented Program (now going by the wayside in so many places, thanks to No Child Left Behind). I don't think I was a "helicopter parent". I never paid for Jimmy's A's (Jesus God, I couldn't afford them!). I never pressured him to make A's. My concern was that he was doing the best that he could, and not screwing off. As long as he was doing the best he could, grades didn't matter to me. I made sure he did his homework. Of course the older he got, the answer I got, more often than not, was "I did it - or will do it - at school". And it got done later and later. And until his Senior year, his grades were stellar.

But I have to admit, once he was in high school and taking the hard classes (for the most part), I developed stars in my eyes. My dad went to Southwestern State university (now Southwestern Oklahoma State University) in Weatherford, OK. He learned to fly. I went to Oscar Rose Junior College (now Rose State College), in Midwest City, OK, but didn't finish. I saw boundless opportunity. I scoured colleges all over the nation. I was happy. I was proud. At first, my son just assumed he'd go to college. I knew he didn't have to have a major at first. But I guess not knowing what he was going to do really threw Jimmy for a loop. It got to a point where I couldn't help him, I wouldn't actually choose his college. I got really frustrated about his nonaction. Deadline after deadline passed with nothing happening. I was getting more frustrated and angry. But how could I explain to him that my anger and frustration weren't with him, per se, but the situation? I always thought I would go back to college, but I never did. My sister ( who has a brilliant mind) had babies (too) early, and had to be in the workforce to provide for them.

Life gets in the way. You have a family to provide for. Money is tight. Time is precious. And then it slips by. Did I explain any of this to my son? No. I told him (rather forcefully) he wasn't a loser, and he had to do something. He joined the Navy. I can't say that I'm happy, I would have preferred he went to college, but it will give him the direction he needed.

All-in-all, I never felt like a good mother, because I wasn't the "helicopter" mom. I don't have alot of pictures of my son, because I couldn't afford them. I didn't save every last little award he ever won. There were the years I was happy he qualified for lunches at a reduced price, because otherwise it would be peanut butter. Oh, and though he was Mr. Social at school, at home all I got about school was "fine". So, I would ask, "Is there anything I have to look at?" At teachers conferences, teachers would gush and talk about all he did in school. And I would have the surprised/confused/I am such a bad mother look on my face, because I didn't have a clue.

But maybe I was ok, after all.

Oh, and if I had ever found out Jimmy whined and moaned to get a deserved lower grade raised, I would kick his ass. Yeah, that would never have happened. Jimmy's teachers adored him.

OH, and according to Steve Gilliard, I only have a couple of readers, because I'm not that good a writer. I'll have to second that.

No Shit?!

WASHINGTON, D.C., Jun 2 (OneWorld) -
Doctors and insurance companies are wrong to blame the U.S. medical malpractice crisis on a supposed explosion of lawsuits and skyrocketing jury awards, say new studies.

Insurance companies have been given a pass when it comes to their culpability for way too long now. We have to pick our doctors and hospitals not according to who's convienient, but who's on the list. Let's take my psychiatrist, Dr. Chak - as long as he was a part of the Decsions program, all well and good for my insurance, but when I need to see him for followup care afterward, no luck - he's not on the list. Now I'm on my last refill of Zoloft (and I'm back to being not real happy with it), and my counselor (who's on the list) has given me the name of another psychiatrist, but her office hasn't called me back (which feeds back into the "I hate to be ignored" thing).

And then we get to go into the whole formulary thing, where it ends up being the insurance company who decides what drugs we are prescribed, we have to have something on the formulary, because we can't afford full price.

I would rather my family's and my healthcare be in our and our physicians hands.

But I can't afford that.