The Kid

Is officially in the Nuclear Program in the Navy. He had to resign papers yesterday, they had just received his transcript. And he has to call them either everyday or every other day, but I don't know why. I asked Jimmy why and I get, "I don't know, they told me to."

OK.

And for those out there thinking, "Oh my God! There's a war on! How can you let him do this?" I've been looking at colleges since Jimmy was a freshman. But I am not the one going to college (this may be a "youth is wasted on the young" thing). He had to be the one who wanted to go. He had to be the one to put in the (some) effort. Yes, I would have helped him. But I'm not going to do the work for him. I never have, I'm not starting now. I won't really have to worry about him (though I will anyway), he'll be in school for like 2 years, and after that - well, we'll think about "after that" after that.

I'm proud of him.

Oh, and I got a t-shirt!!

Yeah, I know everybody does it, but I FEEL STUPID

I'm doing a shift trade, I got off on her Wednesday day off, and am working her Friday. OR SO I THOUGHT. The trade is for NEXT WEEK. I rarely do these things, I don't pay attention to them. I know everybody makes mistakes. I know everybody has done things like this and it's NO BIG DEAL. I know.

It just sets off all the little negative voices in my head. I crashed.

BIG.

So, I've spent all morning crying my eyes out, feeling so incompetent.

No, I'm not in trouble. I explained everything to my boss's boss.

He Passed His Physical

The recruiter called me around 3pm yesterday, while I was on my last break. So the hubby picked Jimmy up. The Hubby says he and Jimmy talked all the way home, and Jimmy is happy. I don't know some details, because Jimmy was at work when I got home, and will likely be tonight. He's going into their nuclear program - but not offcially until Tuesday. The school's been kind of pissy with the recruiter and they won't get a copy of his transcript until tomorrow.

I still don't know if Jimmy is mad at me. The Hubby just says, "He's happy. Leave it alone."

OK.

My long weekend is over...

I was supposed to get off early enough on Tuesday to go meet with the mortgage loan officer at my bank in Guthrie. She's kind of an itinerant - and is in different offices on different days. Well, I had a long call and missed her. I did speak to a regular loan guy. I'm thinking of going that route. Yeah, the interest rate will be variable, but they will overlook my not great credit. One wrinkle that has now been overcome, the land is in the M-in-L's name (loooong story), but she is going to transfer it to us - then he will be able to do a 20 or 30 year loan. I just have to start filling out the app, and figuring out just how much we need. Closer and closer to a new house!

On the family front:

My son's joining the Navy. He's taking the physical and stuff today. Thursday, we went to buy his (overdue) tag, and after that I needed to buy 2 new tires (bald! Scary!). My thought (as such was put into it) was to go to Walmart, since I had got 2 tires last summer at a Walmart, so they would match.

I've been frustrated with the kid this year. He has a brilliant mind, but no drive. I've been looking for colleges for him since his freshman year. He's been an honor student practically his whole life (he had a 4th grade reading level in 1st grade!) . I just couldn't get him to want to do anything. And this year, his Senior year, his grades are suffering (heck, he won't even show me a report card - though he swears his GPA is around 3.0). I've said this before, I'm cool with him not being ready for college. A lot of kids aren't. But for my kid, doing nothing after high school is not an option. Because I know from experience life then drags you along until one day you wake up (say at 45) with little to show from your life. NOT. MY. KID.

Anyway, on the way to get said tires, I was talking to (at?) Jimmy. Not getting anywhere. He thinks he's a loser. He doesn't know what he wants to do. I tell him there's just not that much opportunity here in Oklahoma (unless you can get on out at Tinker or GM). I might as well have been talking to a rock. I got frustrated (and angry). I dropped him off at the recruiter, I had a question (which, at the moment, I've forgotten) I wanted to ask. While I was there, Jimmy was sullen and uncooperative, so I suggested that I'd go buy my tires and come back. (OT - can Walmart TAKE any longer to put on tires?) When I got back, the recruiter said, "Let's tell your mom what you've decided." At that time, I was ecstatic. Jimmy was going to get the physical and stuff on Saturday, but I had to drop him off at the recruiters Friday night.

Friday morning, Jimmy was giving me this, "You know I don't really want to join the Navy." I told him he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to do. I tried to tell him I thought he was a smart, funny guy. That he's not a loser. I don't know if anything got through. But I kind of feel like a crumb. I don't think I forced him into it, but I kind of feel that way. The hubby says Jimmy's playing me, that it's for the best. I don't know how to feel. I don't want him to hate me, but I'm not going to just sit around and let him screw up his life.

Sigh.

Read This!

The Last Temptation by Digby.

I don't usually do politics or religion, because it's not easy for me to write.

I've been a Democrat since 1972 (but since I come from a line of Roosevelt Democrats, it was pretty pre-determined). I became a Democrat in 8th Grade, my Civics, the teacher (she had a blond boufant, but that's all I remember) had us make signs for the election. Mine read "Can we stand four more years of Nixon?" I had wanted it to read "President Nixon" for emphasis, but my stencils were too big. On election day, she brought in an actual voting machine, and had all of her classes vote for president. It was all of her classes to 2, I had convinced my friend, Bea, to vote for McGovern. I wasn't happy with the results, but I was proud of myself (the whole thing is on the odd side. I never did homework - but I did the sign, and I normally hated myself).

Posts like Digby's scare me. It just seems so obvious. I can just see me telling my grandkids about the freedoms we used to have. How we could go anywhere we wanted, and say anything we wanted. And the grandkids look at me in horror and disgust and say, "What the hell happened?"

Local Officials to Talk About New Jail

Guthrie -- Logan County Sheriff Randy Richardson and District Attorney Rob Hudson will talk to county residents about the need for a new Logan County Jail, Richardson said.

Yes, Logan County needs a new jail. The old one is in the basement of the Logan County Courthouse, a hundred or so years old. Calling it decrepit is being kind.

On March 1, there will be a special election where we decide to adopt a 10 year 3/4 cent sales tax to pay for said new jail. It's not going to happen. Guthrie's sales tax is already 83/4 cents, and what do we get for that? It looks like this has actually lit a fire under Guthrie city government. They've decided, "Damn, this might be bad for us!" You can read the city councils arguments here.

Couldn't we have decided the sales tax was too high, like a penny ago?

They've needed to replace the jail for at least 30 years. It's to the point of being dangerous. Couldn't they have done it during the good old oil bubble days of the late 70s, early 80s, when everybody had money?

But it's not going to happen now. We don't have the money to spare. The city has just now discovered they have a high sales tax, and isn't going along with the county's percieved urgent need.

I actually live outside of Guthrie in District 2, so the county government IS my government. They can go screw themselves. The only places you see a sheriff's car is at the county courthouse, or on I35 head to or from OKC. God forbid they actually patrol the county. When the Hubby worked for the county (laborer, truck driver), it was the only job he had where he got into trouble for WORKING TOO HARD. They keep trying to make water run uphill on our road. Just last week they cut deep ditches on the sides of Midwest (in fact cutting the phone line in 2 places - we were out of service most of that day), making the road just barely fit 2 cars. And then they didn't even grade it smooth. And it has since rained, and the road is a soupy mess.

The Hubby swears he's going to call our County Commissioner and complain. I think I'm going to hold him to it this time.

Who Knew?

The dog alarm has a snooze? Bubba did his usual woofing at 5am, but I ignored it. And he stopped! He and Cooter, and Whiskers the cat all settled on the bed and went back to sleep. And Whiskers didn't sleep on my head last night. He did knead my neck a little (catupuncture?), but not like the night before (I think I knocked him off - he slept on the Hubby).

The Hubby says it was probably because it was raining, and the dogs really didn't want to go out.

Who would?

While I am an Okie, I am not a country girl. I am a suburban girl, through and through. I was born in Mercy Hospital, when Mercy was Downtown (then they followed "white flight" and moved out to what was then in the middle of nowhere, remote NW Oklahoma county). Spent most of my life in Del City, less a suburb of OKC than a suburb of Tinker AFB.

But ten years ago, I married a guy from Guthrie. His parents had an actual acreage. They had actual cows (which the hubby's dad got sick of and sold off, then he bought miniature horses). I'd like to say I adapted to rural life, but that's not really true. I am the observer.

Yesterday, was Coyle, Oklahoma's 4H & FFA Pork Chop Supper and Auction. Coyle is a dying, little town east of Langston on State Highway 33. SH 33 is being rerouted around Langston and Coyle. The portion around Langston is done, the new bridge across the Cimarron, from Logan County into Payne County toward Stillwater, looks pretty much done, but there's a lot of roadwork to be done.

Coyle has a gas station/convience store, a bank, a post office, and a restaurant I've never seen, but have seen the sign, oh and a smoke shop. I has lots of old, decrepit buildings, that look like their held up with spit. Coyle schools are all together in one picturesque building built in 1939 by the WPA. The pictures of every Senior class - from the '30s - line the walls, each one in a plaque, hung from the top of the wall, but tilted down for easier viewing. So, for Coyle, the Pork Chop Supper is a BIG DEAL (almost the only deal). People come from all around the area, Coyle, Langston, Guthrie, Perkins, even Crescent. Local businesses (meaning Guthrie and Perkins, I've gone into the businesses in Coyle) donate money and/or stuff for the auction and get tickets to the meal. The bank the M-in-L works at gave her tickets. There were a lot of people there the Hubby and the M-in-L knew - I knew nobody. So, I just watched. Looked at the sale items. A good portion of the homemade quilts seemed to be by one prolific woman. There was one OU throw in a sea of OSU items, throws, t-shirts, etc. Most of the stuff seemed to be plain D crap - garage sale stuff. Some businesses donated stuff, some gave gift certificates for service. We didn't stay for the auction, we did our service for Coyle 4H and FFA, got 3 dinners togo and left.

It was a damn good pork chop, smoked, tender, about 3/4 of an inch thick. My baked potato, however, seemed a little unevenly cooked. But who am I to complain? I got a free dinner, and lunch for today. And as a huge people watcher, I was in heaven.

It feels odd blogging on a Saturday, but as it is my Monday, it really isn't odd.

Oh, and speaking of feeling odd, I got paid Friday (direct deposit - the only way to go), and IT DIDNT MATTER TO ME. Freaky, huh?

An update on spending oil money: We (actually meaning me) had second thoughts on buying the Solitaire, and went to another dealer in El Reno (most famous for having a Federal Prison. - OT - Yeah, I know, just go ahead and put barbed wire around Oklahoma, that's what it's coming to). Anyway, they had this house, smallish, fit some of (well, what we thought were) our needs, and they said they would cut us a deal. Yeah, it's all this! Yeah, it's all that! Yes, it has 2x6 walls! Ok, it didn't have 2x6 walls, it had 2x4. And no they didn't give us a deal. We finally got disgusted (I'm sorry, I'm buying a HOUSE, not a freakin' used car!) and called it off (actually I got the hubby to do that one. And he said, "What's going to happen when I'm not around to take care of you?" I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.). I also stopped payment on the check I had given them, probably not necessary, call it a preemtive strike. Then we went back to Solitaire, and we are getting the one we really want: THIS ONE (the hubby's leaning toward total electric - I would rather have the gas stove and furnace). So, that said, all they do is deliver and set up and the AC (Central Air - isn't just the thought of it wonderful?). We have to get someone to take the Hovel over to M-in-L's place (where it will become the Stepson's pad). The hubby will do the dirt work to level the pad (while we live on a slope, the pad where the house will go is actually pretty level). We're going to put in cement runners, so we need someone to do that. Oh, and since we absolutely, positively do not want vinyl skirting, we need someone for that, too - like a faux foundation. The hubby told me they can recommend people for that. And then the plumber to do the water and septic stuff, and an electrician to connect the power, and we're done! And, I suspect the money will be, too. One more thing, I've learned our bank does actually do mortgage loans for manufactured homes, as long as they're double-wides. Now we learn if they'll put us being loyal customers over my not great credit, and maybe I won't have to put a huge down payment.

Now, we're looking at furniture, because ours is crap not worthy of a thrift store. Just started looking, seen lots of foo-foo stuff that doesn't fit our personalities. And lots of expensive stuff that doesn't seem worth it. But we did just start.

Flippin' Cool!

Wow! I'm up to four readers now!

Is There Anything Better...

...Than giving blood on blood drive day? You do something good for somebody else (in my case, anybody else), and you get cookies, juice and a free t-shirt in return! And because it's the OBI( the Oklahoma Blood Institute - the only organization with whom I'll give blood), I'll get my cholesterol results in a few weeks.

Oklahoma - safest blood supply in the nation!

Ok I'm Back!

And I feel pretty good right now. I've learned that my credit score, while not great, isn't bad. I'm looking for a new house to take the place of the mobile hovel. I have a loan, I think, on the ready, so I don't have to use their financing, I can bargain about the price. The hubby says he's found a deal on a Solitaire in Stillwater. Really great!

Bubba, the basset hound, is still waking me up between 3:30 am and 5:30 am, so I have yet to actually need the alarm to wake me up for work. Whiskers, the cat, has discovered he likes to sleep with me, last night on my neck until I moved him, usually on the pillow above my head. Cooter, the puppy, I wish would wake me up when he has to potty the odd time in the middle of the night, but doesn't.

My son has decided he's a loser and has no future. I'm pretty cool with him not being ready for college, even as smart as he is, but he needs to have an alternative - and beyond the Navy and the Air Force, I'm stumped. He's smart, he's funny (though the Hubby would disagree), a great kid. Some kids (like me) aren't ready for adulthood. And it is kind of thrust on you.

And I've tried to come up with some political rant, like the blogs I love to read below, or to rant on the doings in Oklahoma, but it just isn't right for me (and, geez, nothing happens in Oklahoma). So, I guess I'll just have to be happy with my 3 (or so) readers.

Well, ta for now.

The Hubby Made Me Promise

That I would tell myself that I was going to have a great day and be happy.

I guess I lied. Anxiety level is through the roof. Self-confidence, ha! As if! Self-hatred also through the roof. Also through the roof is the irrational (?) fear that I'm going to be fired. Everyone depends on me.

Mac or PC?

Now that the oil money is flowing in (ha! "flowing in" ha!), I'm thinking of getting a computer for myself.

I've wanted a mac, well, since there's been Macs. But I wanted to ask the one or two people who read my blog - Mac or PC, and why.

Word of the Day

Kakistocracy

Meaning: Government by the least qualified or most unprincipled citizens.

Damn! That's almost all of Oklahoma.

For This Year Only

I am in the Middle Class, instead of Upper Lower class. I've gotten a part of my oil money, and yet, it still doesn't quite seem real. It's like it could disappear in a pouf. I'm kind of afraid to spend it. I have this weird thing about money - specifically me spending money on myself. It's almost a phobia. I get this weird feeling feeling that if I spend money on myself, bad things will happen.

This goes back to when the Hubby had his motorcycle shop, while it operated on a loss the entire time, I supported him all the way. But mine was the only paycheck. We had a Jeep repossessed (they came in the middle of the night - and the dogs didn't bark, they had to be afraid - which meant, to me, they were carrying guns), then the remainder of the note was garnished - taking a third of my take home pay. It came down to do I feed my family, or pay my bills. We attempted a bankruptcy (against my better judgement), but all that happened was a lawyer (yes, I still know his name!) ripped us off, and our credit got screwed up (and the silly bankruptcy didn't even go through). This is also around the time my father went in for a routine back surgery (there is nothing routine about surgery when you're a hemophiliac) and came out paralysed from the waist down, and a little later my mother died.

Circumstances are better, well different, now; the shop is gone (I miss it, even though it never made money), the Hubby is on disability (when he filed, everyone told him he'd have to get a lawyer, that noone goes through on the first try. Randy did. In fact at the Social Security office , Randy was asked, "How do you move?!"), but he's not in a wheelchair (yet). So, I'm getting by. Winter's are usually a little rough (I usually pray for freezing weather), but not this year. This year, it can be warm.

This year, I can relax.

Yeah, right.

Johnny Carson has passed

He was the king.

The Rebuttal

Ok, you can read David Brooks article here. And the great rebuttal by Jennifer Saba at ediitorandpublisher.com here. Go. Read.

Now for my two cents. Mr. Brooks is so full of shit (excuse my language). You expected these articles in the '6os and '70s, about the time women decided they weren't just sex toys, maids, and baby factories (remember Betty Freidan? The Feminine Mystique?). but now it's just insulting.

"Go have your babies, don't worry your pretty little head about (fill in the blank), us menfolk will handle that."

My mother worked. Her mother (Grandma Ben) worked. Her mother (Grandma) worked (she washed clothes for a living - Mama told me about it [it starts out "Well you have these two tubs..."], but I, being the spoiled suburban kid couldn't really fathom it). Even my dad's mother (Grandmother) worked (in fact she had worked so long at her city job in Clinton, OK, when she died, they declared a holiday in her honor - even though she'd been retired for a while).
When I was a little kid, she worked at the Black Hotel, downtown OKC (well, the building's still there - but it doesn't have the black tile facade anymore). I loved going to my mother's work, she was the PBX Operator. I always felt like a movie star when I went into the lobby to get my mom, everybody knew me, would say hi to me. The desk clerk was Maurice, a "bachelor" who owned show-quality Siamese cats. And Fran (I think) was another operator. Daddy's work, at Tinker AFB, overwhelmed me, but I was a star at my mother's.

Mama never really was into stereotypes, I had Barbies, but I also had a train and guns and holster, and I've never owned a girls bike (ick), although, she did force me to carry a purse when I started high school ("Why?!" "You just have to!"). I've already been into the point that she never should have retired - she didn't have any hobbies or interests to keep her mind active.

I didn't really have a choice to stay home. And I'm enough like my Mom to know I would go crazy, if I didn't work. Thanks to being a federal employee at the time with lots of sick leave saved up, I had a seven week paid maternity leave, and still had 100 hours left over. Jimmy was a very social baby, he loved daycare.

Basically the key is: if a woman is happier being Suzy Homemaker, that's what she ought to be, and her kids will be happy and well-adjusted. But if the mom isn't happy, the kids won't be happy. And most of us don't have the choice. So get off our backs!

Study: Parent Notification Laws Won't Stop Teen Sex

• "The research published today shows abstinence-only does significant disservice to American youth by increasing the risk of pregnancy and disease," Cynthia Dailard, an analyst at the nonprofit Alan Guttmacher Institute, a reproductive health think tank, told reporters in a telephone briefing.

The full article is here. Why does this surprise people? The heavyhanded stuff just doesn't work. You would think this is just common sense. Jesus Christ! This is just about contraception! Isn't contraception better than conception? So, if you're not comfortable talking to your parents, you're just screwed? God! Sex happens, get over it.

Ok, I've been telling the world I'm 45 (ick). They say people have vivid memories of famous traumatic events: where they were, what they were doing, everything they felt. I only have one.

I can't tell you what the date was when Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated. I think it was a Sunday. I know for sure it was either a holiday or a weekend, because it was night and Daddy was home (he worked the swing shift at Tinker AFB). I was doing what I usually did, laying on the floor watching tv. They preempted Bewitched to tell the news. Daddy griped about it, calling Dr. King a communist. I didn't say anything, but I rolled my eyes. That sounded so ridiculous to me. At the time, I couldn't tell you if it was because he was a reverend, or because he was (is) an American, or because he was black. I just knew he wasn't a communist.

We could use someone like Dr. King today. If someone is willing to walk through hell for what is right, maybe others will follow.


***UPDATE***
From "Strength To Love," 1963.
Like an unchecked cancer, hate corrodes the personality and eats away its vital unity. Hate destroys a man's sense of values and his objectivity. It causes him to describe the beautiful as ugly and the ugly as beautiful, and to confuse the true with the false and the false with the true.

I found this here. The wisdom of the ages.

Random Thoughts

I thought about not writing this blog anymore. I mean, it is all redundant depressive rants. But I don't think that would be wise. It's like the point of coughing is to get crap out of your lungs, the point of this blog is to get crap out of my head.

I feel better today. I don't really like working on the weekend, but conversely, I don't really like the alternative either. I may hate my job, but I'm not a third wheel here.

I haven't got my oil money, yet. And, yeah, it's driving my crazy.

I don't think my son is going to college, and that drives me crazy, too. Yes, I was the one who looked for colleges since he was a freshman. But I can't do this for him. This is his life, even if it seems like he's screwing it up. "Screwing it up" is a little harsh. I don't know, you always want more for your kids. What can I tell him? A college degree is no guarantee of a good, well paying job anymore. But it's better to have than not have. I think he wants to go to college. I just think he wants me to do the application work, and even down to picking the school out. The most I can do is the financial aid junk. I can help him with it, but that's all. If he really wants out of Oklahoma, going to college is the best way to go about it.

I still have the odd pain upper back left.

And there are the odd things that bother me: That W thinks he can do whatever he wants, because he got elected. It bothers me that the WSJ compares apples to broccoli about Kos and that Armstrong guy. It bothers me that the government has been caught breaking the law, and nobody gives a damn. I still think they're going to restart the draft. And I still say, over my dead body. It bothers me that hatred and intolerance have become the norm. America is not a theocrasy (yet), and those who are not Christian have as much right to annoyingly blare their religion (or no religion) as anybody. I'd rather be more like Mr. Rogers - with everybody my neighbor. Censorship and prohibition just don't work. Some of us like Desparate Housewives (I'm also nutty about Lost, too). If you don't like it - don't watch it. Speaking of DH, I understood they found Mrs. Huber last week - I missed it. I was watching 24. Which also sucked me right up again. Oh and about Lost: It was my running joke that Boone and Shannon were more than just brother/sister. Boone was so overprotective of Shannon. You notice that they made a big deal of them being step-siblings - "no blood relation" is how the cop put it. Yowsa!! Fugitive chick now knows Korean chick can speak english. And Harley has made up with Korean dude, and Korean dude gave him a fish. Because Locke isn't hunting for boar anymore. And Locke was such a psycho on that last episode. I think he'll have to find a way to make gunpowder and blow that hatch.

Been Thinkin'

Which, for me, is not necessarily a good thing. Happy, self-confident thoughts aren't the first ones in my head.

Anyway, I've been kind of taking stock of my life. I'm 45, overweight, and depressed. I don't consider myself pretty, although a few pounds less I'd put myself in the "cute" catagory (right now I feel like an ugly troll). I don't have any kind of college degree (I do have two years at a Junior College - A lifetime ago). I've only had jobs - never a career. In fact as a kid all I could tell you about what I wanted to be when I grew up was "rich and famous". My mom thought I should have been a writer (God I miss my mom - prestroke). But I read my regular blogs, listed on the lower left side, and I think "What the hell am I doing? I'm nowhere near their league."

Now, I have family all around me who I love, the Hubby, my son, my sister, my nieces and their kids, and they love me. But I just don't matter a DAMN. If I have a point to my existance, I sure don't see it.

I Need A Vacation

I am crashing BIGTIME today! The Hubby suggested I call in this morning, but, unfortunately, I'm on a final for attendance (remember sick days count as an absense, as do the times I've came in late because car trouble - and they stay on for a year). So I'm stuck here at work. I know, I know, why don't I talk to my boss, or my bosses boss - see if they can wrangle me some time off? I guess I consider it a weakness. I should be able to handle this. Oh, and I don't want to bother anybody. Yeah, I also know I probably should be on an an antidepressant. I guess we need to go over this again. I can't take Welbutrin because I have a history of seizures (no, I don't have seizures anymore - well not often, and then only the blank stare variety). What has worked best for me is Lexapro. But last year, well, like a year and a half ago, the powers that be split prescriptions out from my health provider. Previously, it had a tiered approach, so much for generic on the formulary, so much for brand name on the formulary, so much for everything else. Well, now it's so much for generic on formulary, so much for brand on formulary, full price if not on formulary, and if you don't use their direct mail after a month you pay a percentage, not a copay.

This is what is on my prescription coverage's formulary:
The following are possible alternative(s) for « Lexapro »
Medication name
Fluoxetine HCl Paroxetine HCl Paxil CR Zoloft

I have now taken all of them. Paxil works, but excuse me if I didn't like the SIDE EFFECT, that didn't GO AWAY. And, yes this may be irrational, I just don't like the idea of throwing pills at a problem.

I could just scream. All I want to do is use some of the 48 hours of vacation time I have to use THIS MONTH, or else I won't accrue any until my vacation time is under 40 hours. I DO NOT WANT TO BE AT WORK TODAY!!!

Oh, and to calm any fears, I am not suicidal (today). I may not see a point to being alive, but I am.

**UPDATE**
I have been given A vacation day tomorrow!!! One down,seven or so to go!

Nothing Really To Post

Depressed today.

I plan on going to a DFA meeting tonight, but the thought kind of scares me. I'm shy, and right now don't have much, if any, self-confidence.

We'll see.

This 'n That

Still have the weird pain in my back (feels like someone's digging their knuckle into my back), except today ibuprofen really isn't helping. Still waiting for it to just go away.

In other news, Howard Dean has announced his candidacy for chairman of the Democratic National Commitee. You can read his announcement here. I voted for him in our primary. My husband would have voted for him for president. Awesome! Just Awesome! Exactly what the Democratic Party needs. No more same old, same old. No more republican lite. No more apologists. Time to stand up for who we are, and trumpet it proudly! Now to get it done! Umm, anybody know how to do that?

In other news, I saw this at msnbc.com. Gives me hope for myself. Also reminds me of my Grandma Ben (yeah, her name was Ben. The story I heard was her dad wanted a boy). Successive generations of grandkids would ask her when she was going to retire. Her answer, as always, "When I get old." My mother should never have retired. Or, she should have had more hobbies than just reading romance novels (which, by themselves, can turn your mind to mush).

Oh, and I want this. Yeah I know I'm getting funny looks, but I always loved Jazzercise (but no longer have a close location or the money). I actually think I would play this (especially if the music is good).

Weekend Update

Not a whole lot to report. Did some running around on Saturday, in the morning with the M-in-L, in the afternoon me and the Hubby went to the Gun Show. When we got home we discovered the heater wasn't working. Luckily it wasn't nearly as cold as it had been - so we made do with some space heaters (and yes, I know how dangerous that is!). The odd thing is the next day, after some furious cleaning, Randy went to vacuum the furnace, he turned off and on a switch, et Voila! The furnace worked again! We're going to have the heating guy come anyway to check it out.

I was wondering if it had anything to do with the electricity weirdness we've been having. I personally am more worried about electricity weirdness than space heater fires.

I just wish the money would hurry up, so I can ditch the hovel once and for all.

Oh, and I have this odd pain in my back, upper left side, kind of stabbing pain. Getting worse.

T. G. I. F.

I am ready for the weekend, but this is my last Saturday/Sunday off for the next quarter. My schedule changes on the 15th to Thursday/Friday off. I don't mind working the weekend - it's the 10 days straight that'll be a killer.

I'd like to get some vacation time to break that up. But I'm kind of screwed. My company has changed how they do Paid Time Off (from now on just called PTO). It used to be vacation and sick leave were bundled together. you got a set amount you could use either way. Now, since I work in a call center, sick leave goes by the standard call center rules. Any sick leave you take counts as an absence (called an occurrence). So you get sick leave, but it counts against you if you take it. Like I said, standard call center stuff.

Now for vacation, you had it, you take it. It's best if you arrange your vacation(s) during I guess I'll call it Open Season, but I'm just not that together. And you could carry over a little to the next year.

It's now changed. They split vacation and sick. You get a total of 6 sick days a year (but, of course, it still counts against you if you take it). You get (well, me) 12 vacation days a year, but if your accrued hours go over 40, you won't get any more vacation time until it's under.

How many hours do I have right now? 88. I've been told I can put some into sick leave (which, remember counts against you if you take it), but the rest I have to take THIS MONTH.

Ok, I can do that. Hell, I want to! There's a problem. There isn't any open vacation days THIS MONTH. I have to put all my requests on a waitlist.

I want to go home.

I Didn't Need To Scream After All...

But I did need to laugh.

I called the Hubby on my first break, like I always do. I told him what was told to me - and, of course, started to cry. He told me a crude joke involving him and a couple of people from my work. I laughed and laughed (see, I'm still smiling). He said, "See, I knew you could laugh!"

He asked me if I was going to go back to the doctor. I told him no, I've taken everything on the formulary. There's only one thing that works, but I can't deal with the side effect. Everything else just doesn't work enough. And what works, I'm just not willing to pay full price for (isn't that what insurance is for?!!!). And, call me hard headed, but I still think my depression is more of a symptom. Of what, I don't know.

Ok, I got to tell you what happened this morning. While I am an early riser, most of the time thanks to Bubba the Bassett; I am not a morning person. Jimmy, my son, has two hoodies, both black. One just has a design on it, the other has Stewie from The Family Guy, and he's saying "Damn you all, morons!" (or so) I remember when he got the Stewie one, I asked him if he would be able to wear it to his (way uptight) school. "They haven't said anything yet."
Ok. So this morning he comes out and asks me if we have any duct tape. "What for?" I ask.
"Oh, for, like, getting rid of hair or covering a word." I'm still not really getting getting it (and my son is the master of the obtuse). "Is this a school thing?"
"Kinda."
"Well, we have tape (left over from Christmas). That's good enough to get rid of hair."
He keeps looking at me.
"oh. You want it now?"
"Yeah."
So I go get him the tape. And while he's in his room (presumably de-hairing a hoodie), the light bulb finally goes off in my head. So, when he comes out I ask him if he got dinged for the Stewie hoodie. He admitted that he had ("Yeah, I thought that was obvious."), but he's been wearing it for a month without anybody saying anything.

Now we'll see if he duct tape's the cuss word (eyes roll), or just wears the other one.

And to recap the good news, today I'm happy.

And the Results Are...

Not surprising. Called the doctor's office just before I left for work. Kim wasn't there, of course. So I just told them that that was the only time I could call and Kim didn't leave the message with my husband. So the receptionist said she would find out what's what.

"You're levels are normal. You're iron is a little low. We need to make an appointment to discuss antidepressant options. Do you want to make an appointment now?"

"No, thank you."

At first I was in such a fury! I could have ripped the hovel apart with my bare hands. Now, true to form, all that anger's turned inward. I could spew self-hatred, but that would be redundant. So, I'll sign off for now.

God.

Ice Storm Post - Or I Thought I Made Mountains Out of Molehills

It's rained for two days and finally decided to freeze early this morning. Luckily, here in central Oklahoma, It was starting to poop out, the major ice being in the NW yesterday. That doesn't mean our local media won't make a big giant fuss out of it. And our populace made the most of that by going out and doing everything the media tells them not to do.

My doctor's office FINALLY called yesterday. Of course I was at work, but that's why they have the home phone and the Hubby's Cel ph numbers. SO THEY COULD TELL HIM WHATEVER THE HELL IS GOING ON (or not going on)!!

The Message that was left? "Call Kim."

So I call before I leave for work, but the office is closed. I think, "Maybe they're opening up late." I actually drive the 43 miles between home in Guthrie and work in Moore, and the Oklahoma county portion of I35 were worse than the Logan County portion. So I am here at work, and feeling like an idiot for coming to work. I've called twice now and the office is still closed. Ok, to be fair, the second time could have been during their lunch. I'm just so damn frustrated.

And no, I'm not staying a whole day at work.

I still haven't heard from the doctor. So, I guess I'm a healthy, but lazy, slob. Or in my husband's words, I don't do enough and I eat too much. The Hubby swears there's a difference.

I'm kind of sad today.

Hard to get focused.

Would rather sit in a dark corner and watch TV.

You've got to read Jon's Dec. 30th post over at Living With Purpose! Why isn't he paid for writing? He's great!
It's like I had the same experience at the doctor just the day before. Except that the receptionist recognizes me - as Randy's wife. So I read much too much into "What are you here for?" Feeling anxious, guilty, and angry simultaneously. Randy's the one with health problems, not me. I'm just a depressed hypochondriac - wasting a $20 co-pay.

So, no news yet. And, of course, no news today since they're closed (and I'm here at work - why?). Now I know for a fact my cholesterol is a little high, because the Oklahoma Blood Institute gives you your cholesterol results everytime you donate blood. And I'm pretty sure I'm peri-menopausal (even though the meno hasn't paused yet), but being just about the oldest woman in my family with an intact uterus, there's really noone I can ask.

I guess I could go by the All In The Family episode where Edith goes through "the Change". She was so upset with it, she felt like she wasn't a woman anymore. All I can tell you, if my periods stopped tomorrow, I'd be happy as a clam.

I went to the doctor this morning. My blood pressure was low - 101/84, and I had a slight fever, 99, and you would not believe what I weigh now!. When the doctor came in, I poured out everything. And instead of just throwing more anti-depressants at me, since everything I'm feeling (symptoms?) leads to a list a mile long, he decided to do a battery of blood work on me. And, yeah this sounds kind of perverted, I would like it to be something, not just my imagination.

He said the results should be in tomorrow.

It's still not really real, yet. I have the total amount written on a post-it note tacked on the hutch of my desk - yet it's not real. The money's not in my hot little hands yet - it's in between bank limbo. Randy's the one saying, "Let's go, go, GO!" and I'm the one going "Whoa!"

But on an unrelated matter, I have kind of decided to go back to the doctor. Even though he'll just tell me I need to eat less, exercise more, and TAKE MY ANTIDEPRESSANT. I know it's kind of perverted, but I'd like to think there's something wrong with me, something that explains all my symptoms - beyond Food-in-Mouth disease, that is. But right now, I can throw 20 bucks away.

On the house front, we think we're going Solitaire. This one, in fact. If we had our druthers, we'd have it flopped - so our bedroom is away from dog-woman next door. An actual garage would be nice, too. Randy's still wanting to put lots of money down, and so have a lower payment. He's all - "We're going to get this BIG settlement from the accident!"

Right. I'll believe it when I see it.

Update: I went ahead and made a doctor's appointment for tomorrow morning. I'd rather waste $20, than keep feeling this way.

Geez

Got another one! Oil lease, that is. On Christmas Eve. A smaller one, roughly about a quarter of the first. Wild.

These things don't normally happen to me.

About 35 Years Too Late

This story about treating anxiety in children.

Que sera, sera.

It's On Paper

But I still don't believe it! I am looking at houses now!

Oh. My. God. I'm a thousandaire!!

My News...

Requires background.

Per Wikipedia here (it has a map - which I can't figure out how to copy over here), Roger Mills County is a county located in the state of Oklahoma. As of 2000, the population is 3,436. Its county seat is Cheyenne.

The only thing I know is there is the Washita Battlefield National Historic Site, where Custer massacred pretty much every Native American he could see (and for that he has a county named after him!)

This is the area my dad and his family are from (he lived in Clinton, in Custer county, to the east of Roger Mills).

And thus we harken back to the last days of the oil bubble in the '80s. Some aunt of my Dad's (with some hideous Okie name like Gladys) signed an oil lease for something like $700,000. Which hacked my Dad off, because he thought he and his sister, my Aunt Ruth Ann, owned said property - because the late uncle had left it to them. Big arguments followed which were confusing, because I kind of ignored it. And more arguments when said aunt passed - somehow it was declared that Daddy and Ruth Ann were heirs to half and one of the seven heirs to the other half (actually taxes took most).

Afterwards, Daddy would always look to see what kind of drilling was going on out there. But the bubble had popped, and nothing come of it.

Now we fast-forward to the 21st Century, and I had forgotten about the property in Nowheresville, Oklahoma. Oklahoma was played out, I thought. I was talking to my sister yesterday, and she told me there were a couple of companies interested. My cousin had been trying to get a hold of her to get my address.

So. There is a new lease on the property in Roger Mills County. Since I have seen nothing on paper, it's really not real to me.

Surreal, maybe.

Oh My God!!

BIG NEWS!!

To be continued....

Well, Duh!

Just read this! It is UNBELIEVABLE!

It ain't that hard, people!

Having A Moment...

A Mount St. Helens moment that is. I had another crappy, weepy weekend. Not having a good Monday. Any little thing could set me off.

Today's Headline:

Kia Spectra Gets Worst Crash-Test Rating

Guess what I drive? I'd like to think my '02 model is safer than the '04 tested. HAH!! I guess I shouldn't mention my right rear tire needs to be replaced.

The Hubby said we ought to trade it off on a Honda Civic, but I'd rather have a new house. I can't afford both.

Yes, I Am...

...stuck at work. But not for much longer. I've been trying to use my time wisely, looking for a career change. I've gone about as far as I want to as call center peon. I don't know what I want to do when I grow up, I never have. Having poor self-esteem most of my life, I'm not real attuned to what I do well. When M-in-L was in the Oklahoma Heart Hospital (oh, OT, way-cool bathrooms) , I thought it would be cool to work in the lab. Being a big CSI-phile, and murder mystery buff I thought forensics would be cool. One problem crops up, though, as much as I love the sciences, I am a complete math-idiot. University of Central Oklahoma (I STILL think of it as Central State University) has a forensic science program at its College of Math & Science.

It's close to me! Close! But how do I know I can do college level work? I mean, yeah I have like 2 years at what was then Oscar Rose Junior College (now Rose State College) - no degree. But that was ages and ages ago.

Damned If I Do...

So it has come down from above:

• For the last two weekends we as a department have not met service levels. We had voluntary overtime which was not fullfilled
  therefore we will be moving to required overtime effective 12/18/04.
  All agents, including those scheduled for 12/20 class are required to work a minimum of two hours either 12/18 or 12/19 or an hour on
  each day. There is a total of 4 hours required overtime, two must be on Sat or Sun.
  If you have already signed up for Saturday or Sunday or the remainder of the week, you are not required to go back and sign up again.
  The overtime book is located up at WFM.

And:

• Reminder: If you do not fullfill your overtime committment you will receive a half occurrence.

Meaning if you blow it off, it counts as an absence. Jesus, God!! I wish I cared. This just pisses me off. I have too much going on at home, but, of course, that doesn't matter. I'm considering taking the half an occurence.

No, I can't spare it.

Life sucks. And it's dragging me down with it.

Mandatory Overtime

OOOH, SCARY!!

Not really a big deal, but it's just another one of THOSE THINGS that bother me.

• Overtime bothers me, because I don't consider it my time to give away.
• Children's books on tape or those new electronic "read along" things bother me. Sit on your butt and read to your kid. PERIOD. How did I get a reading kid? By being a reading adult.
• Along that line, don't buy children's books at Wal-Mart! They're crap. If you can't go to an actual bookstore, go to a library. If you want to buy, and don't want to or can't go to an actual bookstore, go to Target. They have a better selection of children's literature.
• Pick up your baby. Don't just stick a bottle in it's face while it sits in an infant carrier or stroller.
• Throw your trash IN THE TRASH! Not in the sink. Not on the kitchen table. Not on an end table.
• Flush. I'd add to put the toilet seat down, but that's a lost cause.

Those are the things that come to mind right now. And that's because they've threatened me with mandatory overtime here at work. Something like 4 hours, not a big deal, but it still bothers me. With Randy being in SO much pain, I don't like even being AT work, much less working over. Like today, I called him at lunch to see if his prescription was ready at the doctor's (one of those prescriptions that have to be written out every month), and, if so, if he had picked it up. OH MY GOD! I can't describe how he sounded, except I felt I needed to be home RIGHT THEN. He was beyond even the zombie mode. Needless to say, no he didn't pick up his prescription, but today is one of the days the doctor's office has after hours and I'll pick it up after work. All I could think is that he needed to be in an emergency room, being pumped full of drugs. He wasn't like this before the accident. Yes, he was still in pain all the time, but it was manageable. This zombie and beyond-zombie stuff just curls my toes. It's turned my husband from mostly active to partially home-bound (he told me yesterday, at his mom's, checking out her computer, he was in so much pain he cried - and that was just getting up out of a chair). Yes this would have happened eventually, but over time, not all at once.

They'll just have to make me. They're lucky I come to work at all.

Sorry for the Downer Posts

I feel much better now.

I can't tell you what gets into me that makes me crash. And I get frustrated when I know that I have to go to the doctor (Jesse Ray), and I know that his hands are tied by the @#$@ing Formulary of my @#$%ing prescription coverage (a small prayer: God, please make my work give prescription coverage back to Aetna - Amen). And I know what all he's going to say, because he's said it all before. But, yes, at some point of time I will go back to the doctor - maybe after the holidays.

I've been feeling kind of funny the last couple of days. I still have the intense rage just under the surface, which, for a Customer Service agent, isn't a good thing. But, also, I've been feeling kind of woozy, little dizzy spells. And, just now, I've gotten really cold. I originally blamed that on eating ice earlier, when I finished my water, but I'm not sure now, since I'm still cold.

Of course I could be being a hypochondriac.

Oh, and today, while I still don't like myself, I'm not suicidal.

So I Was Right...

Nobody Cares.

Weepy Weekend

I've had such a weepy weekend. I would have rather been at work. I could have done overtime on Saturday, but Randy gave me puppy-dog eyes, he didn't want me to. All we do on Saturday any more is go with the M-in-L Wal-Marting. And I feel like such a third wheel. And they're always ragging on somebody (usually Jimmy) - he doesn't know anything about money - he thinks everything is handed to him - he should be saving his money - I'm going to take that car back if he doesn't pay me - Jason (Randy's son) always paid me (talk about rose-colored glasses!) - and on and on and on - unrelenting negativity. I just wanted to scream. And they started right back on it on Sunday (when we go to her house to read the paper). She had bought doughnuts (like usual), and she made sausage and scrambled eggs. Because I didn't jump up and do dishes (granted, I guess I should), the M-in-L carped "I'm going to start charging for breakfast!" And again, started in on Jimmy. And how her wonderful youngest son paid his own way in college. I kind of snapped. Yes, I should have just kept my mouth shut. I internalize everything else. I told her he was stupid for doing so. That my ex had his college paid for, he had been in the Air Force (one of the reasons I didn't mind working while he went to school).

So, right now, I'm a bundle of conflicting emotions - rage (I feel like I could turn into a She-Hulk at any moment), intense self-hatred, sadness, and I'm sooo tired - I've got such a weight on my shoulders, I feel like I'm going to break.

And nobody cares.

Well, I guess I can't really say that. My husband cares, but he doesn't really know how to handle my depression and he has enough on his plate already.

Truth be told, now that I'm at work, I feel a little better. I'm not quite suicidal. Oh, don't get so upset! I think about it, I don't do.

I'm supposed to go back to the doctor, before he will write another prescription. But, geez, what a waste of time! He'll tell me I need to lose weight, and I need to exercise. We'll discuss how I'm doing on Zoloft (I'm Not!). I'll tell him that I do best on Lexapro, but it's not on the formulary, and I don't like paying full price when I have health insurance that's SUPPOSED to cover things like that. So, no, I'm not going back to the doctor, not right now. It serves no purpose.

A Cry in the Darkness

I had an argument with the Hubby last night. Politics. I know - why don't I just keep my mouth shut! Ended up with the same worthless feeling - why am I here - Randy would be better off without me - God, I wish I was....

Yeah, I know - Life is precious, a gift from God - yada, yada, yada.

Of course, this morning the Hubby has forgotten all about it.

I wish I could. I wish I could be as positive towards myself as my handful of readers are. Today it's just not there. My life, my existence, doesn't matter a damn.

Maybe I Can Relax A Little

I just got finished reading this article. About how being an over-protective parent is now the norm. This is NOT me. It was, however, my parents. I'm certainly not going to go there! My parents did the best they could under the circumstances. What did people know about depression in the '70s? Especially in children.

I can't say I'm a great parent. But maybe I can relax a little. I'm still frustrated, but I can live with that.

An Update to Jimmy's Update

I think I did write about this, but I'm not sure - the little brou-ha-ha over Jimmy flying down to see his Dad over the weekend. Randy and Jimmy are still in kind of a feud, and, of course, I'm in the middle and think both of them are acting like children. And no, neither has an excuse.

Anyway, Jimmy and I had a little confab on the way to the airport (a roughly 45-50 minute drive from Guthrie). He asked me if I would be upset if he dropped Honors Calculus. "I'm just not getting it," he said. I can certainly understand not getting math, so I asked him what his grade was. It was like a B or a C. And, you know, if it was a C or a D I might have been sympathetic. I think some of the problem is everything has always just came to him. Now he's in a class he has to think about, has to work at. Having to ask for help is okay (just hard to do).
Also he's unsure about college (I'm not!!) - he doesn't know what to study. He had always assumed he would go into video game programming. I'm sorry to say, reality has hit him in the face. He's not an artist, heck he can't draw at all! And he really doesn't like computers. I told him he would be a good teacher, although they don't make alot of money (more than me!). He kind of agreed with me. And I didn't say so, he'd probably make a good lawyer, too. He's stubborn and argumentative.

I'm sorry, I'm believe that even if you end up a Wal-Mart greeter, a college education is it's own reward. And one should consider themselves lucky to be able to get one.

I didn't buy a new dress, but I also didn't wear the one I wore two years ago (the "Liquid Chicken" Christmas party). Yes, I was casual amid a sea of formals (I wore the sleeveless denim jumper I got at Old Navy on sale for a buck with my black ankle boots), but I was comfortable. I actually felt good. And the food was good, I had, I think, chicken parmesiana - anyway it was a stuffed chicken breast covered in cheese. Randy had the roast beef. Oh, and there was a fudge cake that was to die for - Icouldn't even finish it!

I laughed. I talked (!). I even danced! And I won a $100 travelers check! Yeah, I would have like to win one of the agent and companion passes, or the grand prize (called "Pack Your Bags") a trip to San Francisco, but, geez, I never win anything! I'll take what I get.

It was a fantastic night. I really have to give it up to Randy, he stayed longer than he should have - for me.

Most of my life, I've felt I was on the outside looking in, wanting to belong. Friday night, I belonged! And it felt fantastic!!!

I'd like to feel that way more often.

Party Hearty

My work Christmas party is tonight, and I'm only working (HA! I'm in a training class for Customer Service Tour - no, it's not work) a half day today. That matters because I mainly do my blogging from work.

I'm going to have to buy a new dress. I've gained soooo much weight this year. I wish I could blame my Zoloft, but since I do little exercise and eat too much, I can only blame myself. But I just can't get my head into losing weight. It all goes back to my Rule No. 1 of successful weight loss - You have to like yourself for the person you are, because the person you are is not going to change. I don't really like myself. I mean, I'm not smart; I'm not pretty; I don't like to clean house; I don't like to cook (our oven is messed up anyway); I'm shy; I'm quiet.

Jimmy Update

Things came to a head between Jimmy and Randy. Evidently they had a big, hairy fight yesterday while I was at work. In a perverse way, I was actually proud that Jimmy stood up to Randy. He'd never done that before. He told Randy that Randy treats our dogs better than him. Randy asked me, "Is that true?" I shrugged my shoulders. I don't know.

So I spoke to him before he left for school, which was difficult because I was running late, and Jimmy, you'd think he was made of stone. I told him that he didn't have to like Randy, but he has to respect him, because Randy does love him. And I told him to pay more attention to his Grandma (Randy's Mom), and to check his oil.

Have NO idea if any of it sank in.

I've decided that I'm the Fool on the Hill of the family.

Insurance Update

I've been informed that the Tahoe will be ready on Friday. And that the lawyer wants Randy to see a Pain Management Specialist. I asked Randy, "On whose nickel?" Randy swears it's theirs. Oh and he took them the other insurance's check yesterday, and he did tell them how we had been screwed some years ago by bankruptcy attorney(let me tell you, bankruptcy is a racket), but he didn't remember the name (I DO!). So I feel a little better now. Randy's in a hideous amount of pain today. He says it's been building since yesterday. The more pain he's in the bigger settlement he wants.

And it all could have been over, if they talked to us, and paid for all the repairs, and the like $75.00 we've spent on the doctor and prescriptions.

Randy informed me that Cheyenne is in heat. And we've learned Bubba has the wrong name - it should be Horn-Dawg. Oh My God! You'd think he's in pain.

I had two really weird dreams last night. The first one was before the dog alarm went of at 4:00am. One of my movie dreams. Really hard to discribe. Kind of a Doris Day-Rock Hudson-ish movie combined with spy thriller. The second one was after I walked the dogs, napping in the recliner in the living room. It was before I went to work, I had mixed the contents of two pill bottles together, I thought they were the same prescription. I needed to take my anti-depressant (OMG, I'm dreaming about it!), I pour out some pills, and take one. Then I realize that I had combined different prescriptions, and I had taken one of Randy's. But I had to go to work. So, then I'm in my car, and it's dark outside (why I'm going to work in the dark, I'll never know), and I'm getting sleepy. I keep getting sleepier and sleepier, then it feels like I can't control my body. My car starts to go backwards. I tell myself all I need to do is step on the brake, but I can't. I wake up, but for a second, I'm still going backwards. Then I realize I'm in the recliner, in then living room, safe.

On the Jimmy front, last weekend I got the ex's check in the mail, it came with an itinerary for my son for this weekend. And that's the first we know about it. You know, when Jimmy was little I thought it was soooo cool that he had my personality, we just meshed. Now, he has the parts of my personality that I didn't want him to have: he's shy, and he keeps everything all bottled up inside. I've told him over and over he can talk to us. Somewhere up in heaven, my mother is sighing with relief, "Thank God! It wasn't me after all!"
And he still hasn't given any sign of what he wants to do after he graduates. And he needs to be doing something right now. He can decide not to go to college, or join the military - it is his life and his decision (and, yes, not to decide is also a decision). I just hate to see such a wonderful mind going to waste. I want to nag, to scream and yell, to shake him until he comes to his senses, but my gut goes with the baby bird analogy - he has to learn there are consequences to his actions. He has to make his own mistakes now, whether I like it or not.

My Rogie-Dogie

A horrible thing happened on Saturday afternoon. I feel responsible. My husband feels responsible. Now I'm just numb.

Our wolf hybrid, Cheyenne, who Randy moved just last week, killed our Dachshund, Rogue. In front of me. I'm an accomplice to a murder.

Bubba was woofing, wanting to go out. I know he really didn't want to potty, he wanted to "hang around" Cheyenne. But Bubba's kind of like Bart Simpson, and keeps on woofing until he gets his way. So, we all went out, Bubba and Cooter on leashes, Rogue and Heidi loose. Since Cheyenne had been moved to the place we usually go down to the creek and to the "back back", I was going to go a different way. But evidently Rogue had forgotten Cheyenne had been moved, and ran straight for her. And that's how quick it was. I ran over, yelling "NO! NO!" I still had a death grip on the leashes, so Bubba and Cooter were in tow. Cooter started to yelp, not because he was being attacked, but because he's scared of her already. Heidi tried to put herself between Rogue and Cheyenne. And Randy had ran out, and had to beat on her to get her to release rogue. But it was over. We laid her to rest in the back yard. I said the 23rd Psalm to myself, well, what I remembered of it. And cried, and cried, and cried.

I blamed myself, Randy still blames himself. And Cheyenne is going to be put down, or given away. We don't really blame Cheyenne, it's her nature. But who's next? One of our cats? Cooter? Or maybe a child who comes into the yard?

To be honest, it's not the way I thought she would go. As I have said before, I have an entourage when I walk Bubba and Cooter. I just walk to the next corner and back. When a car comes, I can hold the bassetts back, would run in front of it. So I had to call to her, sweetly so she didn't think she did anything wrong; then squat down and point to the ground in front of me, all so I could pick her up before the car came. And cars go way to fast on the roads here at Meth Lab Estates. Like last night, I swore I was going to be run over and I was on the opposite side of the road, almost off the road! That's how I thought she would go, she's kind of a knucklehead.

You know, she was named Rogue after the X-Man character, because she was the puppy who did everything first - out the box, on to the sofa, etc. Being a dachshund, she acted as though she were a much bigger dog. You'd have to catch her, because she would run out and bark ferociously at the biggest dog. And because she was teased mercilessly by a neighbor who wore a ball cap all the time, she hated guys in hats. Even those she knew, if they came in wearing a hat, she'd bark at him until the hat came off.
Whenever she wanted something, food, water, or to potty, she did a little dance you had to interpret: she'd spin around in the living room, go up to the kitchen and spin around, and then stand on the kitchen steps and stare at you. And she repeated if you were dense enough not to understand. We called it her "bee dance".
And she loved to see her Grandma. She loved to take walks with us in the pasture. She would run with abandon, completely happy.
She was also a cold natured dog. Any time you covered up with a blanket, you got the little black-and-tan dog, too. Since the door to our bedroom didn't close right, all she had to do is run down the hall and throw herself against the door to open it, then she jump up on the bed and whine until she was under the covers, between us. I usually got the toenails.

She was a wonder. She'll be missed.

**UPDATE** Cheyenne has had a temporary reprieve. Only if Jason's friend, Tommy, her previous owner, can find a home for her by next Monday

OH...MY...GOD

Two things...

1. Ok, I don't know where to start with this. Their insurance has NEVER talked to us personally. They've spoken only to the body shop. So, it was the body shop who told Randy about the 80% thing. When I got home yesterday, Randy had put the days mail in a pile by his chair (and the dogs had spread out from there). I noticed something with my name on it, but my name was slightly misspelled - no idea who it was from. I opened it up and it was a check from their insurance for just over $4,000 for 80% of the damage to the Tahoe. Saying we were pissed just doesn't go into it. We've gotten screwed and didn't get to enjoy it. Needless to say, we are not cashing the check. It's being sent to our lawyer.
2. And on a happy, but still aggravating, note: Jimmy got his ACT scores in the mail yesterday. Of course he saw them at school, but I only knew the composite score (30!). That itself is on the 97th percentile! Jimmy's comment was that that meant there was 3 percent better than him. His lowest single score was science (24), which was on the 80th percentile! Some of them he topped out! I am soooo proud! Aggravated, but proud.
   

Update to Yesterday

Ok, I'm not sure I told this yesterday, but the girl's insurance told the body shop they think they're only liable for 80% of the damage.

RIGHT!

Randy spoke to the body shop today, they told him they're trying to total out the Tahoe. But it's doubtful that would be enough to buy a new car. So he's seeing a lawyer today. And we're still getting advice from his brother.

Oh, I'm in training. It started this week, and will go on for like 2 more. Learning international travel, tours and such. I'm temporarily on an 8:30 to 5:00 shift. You know, I may be an early riser, but I do not like to jump and run. I like to ease into my day. This shift bites. I am wiped out.

My husband got a copy of the police report today. And it shows... wait for it... failure to yield the right-of-way! So, why is their insurance dragging their feet?
Oh, Randy's brother, sorry no love lost, studying to be a lawyer, wanted to see the accident report, because we may be partially at fault if we didn't try to avoid it enough(?!) - right. I just want it over with. I want the Tahoe repaired. I don't give a hoot in hell about any extra money for pain and suffering, or mental anguish - I just want it over.

I have learned from my son's school counselor that he is a potential Academic Allstater, but the application has to be postmarked by Dec. 3. Jimmy's kind of bummed because a couple of his scores are lower than when he took the ACT test before. And Jimmy feels he has to apply for the Academic Allstate, because, since I've been in contact with his school counselor, he states she's "all mad" at him. I told him I think she has a reason to be mad at him. He's at the point where I have to push him out of the nest, and he either has to fly or fall to the ground. And no, that's not easy for me. But, because I was depressed and ultra-shy, my parents went out of their way to protect me. They just wanted me happy.
I don't want him to fritter away his future. I understand that it's close, and it's scary, and he doesn't have a clue as to what he wants to do. I'm actually cool with all that. I want him to go to college!

Post-Accident Update

The doctor finally called Randy back yesterday. He said the X-rays showed degenerative disc disease, but no additional injury. The accident aggrivated it. Randy said he already knew about it, though it was news to me. According to what I've read, it's pretty common. Happens naturally when we get older (although Randy certainly wasn't old when we first found out about his spine).

We, and the Body Shop, still haven't heard anything from their insurance. Ours is ready and waiting, but we didn't want to have to use it - IT WASN'T OUR FAULT (not to beat a dead horse, but she had a stop sign - we didn't). So, Randy is thinking of getting a lawyer. Yes, it may be necessary, due to their feet dragging, but, geez, does it leave a bad taste in my mouth.

Let Me Scream It From The Mountaintop...

My son got a 30 on the ACT!!

redux

My anxiety level is, again, through the roof. It's hard to get myself going and do something. Randy heard from the doctor (himself), unfortunately it was when he was at his Mom's. So now they're playing telephone tag. Of course I'm at work and don't know what the hell is going on.

This doesn't seem normal to me. I have been taking my pill, for the most part.

And, no I haven't worked on the novel (short story) lately. I just don't feel like it.

There's Not Enough Food

To satisfy my hunger.

Randy had his lower lumbar x-rays today. My not flat, non-bendable hubby had to lie on a flat table. He says they did give him a pillow, which he doubled up. He said they griped about that. And he says he's been sweating all day. And the last time he did that was when he was in the National Guard and had all those stress fractures.

Shouldn't he be in the hospital or something?

Through the Roof

My anxiety level, that is. My husband's pain is getting worse. And now he can twist! He hasn't been able to do that in over 5 years! And while, on the surface that may seem to be a good thing, it bothers me. Randy's going to the doctor today, but I don't know if I can get off to go with him. Luckily his son has today off. Do you know how much I HATE putting my job ahead of my family?! I'd like to say "My job be damned! My place is with my family right now!" But that could be counter-productive. I doesn't serve any purpose to lose my job (no matter how much it annoys me). I just wish I could take some time off (preferably with pay), without jeopardizing my job.

My husband is the strongest person I've ever met. He's the one who laughed at a broken ankle (and the thin leg bone). It just breaks my heart to see him in such hideous pain. Pain I don't actually think can be eased.

I don't want to be here today.

**UPDATE** I'm taking half an occurence (which does put me on a written warning), so I can be with the Hubby at the doctors. Since I do the majority of my blogging from work, that means Goodbye for today.

Second Post

Up and Running!!

Bizzaro World Update

The tahoe is now at the body shop. Our insurance is being great (so far). Their insurance is saying it was OUR FAULT because of INATTENTIVE DRIVING.

Excuse my language, CROCK OF SHIT!!

She had a stop sign, we didn't - period.

When Did I Slip Into Bizzaro World?

Evidently my husband got called by every chiropractor in the Greater OKC area yesterday. They told him he didn't need money, that they'd pick him up, etc. Wild.

But even wilder, he learned from our insurance agent "Chip" (I kid you not), that the grandfather of the girl who DIDN'T YIELD THE RIGHT-OF-WAY is going to get a lawyer.

Excuse my language, but, WTF?! She didn't yield the right-of-way! We were going east-bound of 122nd Street and we had the RIGHT-OF-WAY!! She cut in front of us!

And we still haven't heard from her insurance! Some dude named Raymond is supposed to contact us. Nothing. And this is difficult for me, because I work in Moore, roughly 45 miles from home. And I work in a call center, so the only time I have to make calls are on my breaks.

Oh, and just now, we had to get off the phones for about 15 minutes, for a tornado warning. The tornado in question was nowhere near Moore, it was around NE 50th and Hiawassee - northeastern Oklahoma County. Moore is in northern Cleveland county, south of Oklahoma county. Gosh, these people are skittish!

My First Post

Of my blog novel is up here! I'm sooo nervous!

**SIGH**

I had a car accident on Sunday, around noon-1pm. A girl was trying to go straight across 122nd Street from the I35 service road to the State Commuter Parking Lot and we were going west-bound on 122nd. Me and the Hubby, who was driving, and 3 of our dogs, Rogue the dachshund, Cooter and Bubba the bassets were in our '95, 162,000-plus mi, paid for Tahoe. 122nd is a 45-mph street, but since we had just pulled out of a Shell station (we got pops), I don't think it was up to speed yet. Randy jammed on the brakes, but there was no where to go. Yes, we were wearing our seatbelts (everyone has asked that). It was a pretty soft contact, considering. One thing that bothers me, Randy's airbad didn't deploy. Isn't that thing supposed to go off in a 5-10 mph wreck? I mean our front end hit her rear passenger quarter?

Luckily noone was seriously hurt. I spent most of yesterday going with the Hubby to the doctor, and then to get X-rays. Randy's in a lot more pain, he's got a pinched nerve in his shoulder that makes two fingers in his left hand go to sleep. He gave him another muscle relaxer and some steroids. It could have been a lot worse. With Randy's spine fused, it may be a good thing the airbag didn't go off. And to think, he thought of taking my Kia, because of the gas mileage.

About my job, I guess I still have it. I haven't heard otherwise (yet). I did learn today, that if either of us had gone to the hospital, the absense would have been excused. Randy's mother convinced us to go to our regular doctor, rather than the emergency room, because he knows all about Randy's problems.

They haven't told me to leave. And they haven't come to my desk with empty boxes (yet). But they also haven't told me my job is secure (for now).

Oh, and to top it all off, because we forgot to put the insurance verification form in the car, we got a ticket. Which meant first we went to our insurance agent and got replacements, and then I got to go downtown (the Hubby doesn't like to go downtown when his feeling good) to show them to have the ticket dismissed.

It was a long, tiring day.

Oh, yeah, me and the dogs are ok.

I Have A Feeling

An odd, hopefully wrong feeling that I'm going to be fired.

**SIGH**

It's Over

The Hubby is satisfied.

I'm disraught.

The world has turned into a hateful, mean, intolerant place.

I have said many times, I have no religion. I don't, but this is my profession.

I'm Sorry

My depression is kicking my rear end this week. The only thoughts in my head are self-defeating. I know my anti-depressant isn't the greatest, but I guess it does some good. The fight to keep up my resolve is so tiring. And I wonder if I'm worth the effort.

You know, when Jimmy was 5(or 6), I went through my post-divorce, post-icky-bad-rebound-relasionship depression, I used to love watching Mr. Rogers Neighborhood with my son before he went to Kindergarten (Eastside Elementary in Midwest City, We lived in the area then, so he was in the afternoon class). He told me everything I needed to hear.

And earlier, in my childhood depression, my Mom was perennially perky one. I didn't believe her, but I needed to hear it.

I guess, now at (ick) 45, I should be secure. I shouldn't need Mr. Rogers or my Mom (I wish she were here - pre stroke) to boost my (non exsistent) self-esteem. How I envy confident, outgoing, optimistic people. I am none of those (except I'm optimistic when it comes to my son, and I try to be for my husband).

Yeah, I probably need to go to the doctor (Jesse Ray Campbell). A waste of $20.
I guess I should say "I'm worth the money!"

right.

I Had A Fight

With the Hubby this morning. Actually it's becoming all the time anymore. And it's such a silly thing - he's a Bush supporter and I'm avidly Kerry.

And, No, goddamnit! I am not backing down.

I may be right, but I'm the one torn apart by it. I just feel sick. I know I ought to go ahead and spew everything that's roiling inside me, after all that's kind of why I started this blog (with 1 reader!), but what's the point? God! What's the point of anything?!!

I am sooo worthless.

**UPDATE** I feel a little better now. Not much, but a little. I'd like to say it'll be better after we vote, but we voted early on Saturday (to accomodate his mother) at the County Election Board.
**SIGH** I still don't feel like anything.

NaNoBlogMo Is Not An Alien Species

And NaNoWriMo is not his brother. What it is, uncannily, is something I've said a long, long time: That everybody has the potential for that ONE GREAT BOOK (ala Harper Lee). In November, Blogger is helping everyone (who wants to) participate in National Novel Writing Month.

I'm thinking I'm gonna do it! I'm not real sure, but I did register with nanowrimo.org. I haven't a clue as to what to write, so I haven't set up an alternate Novel Blog yet. I'm gonna have to think about it.

Scary!

Exciting!

I think I can do it - but I'm not sure!

I Could Just Cry

I've screwed with my template. I was merely trying to change the word "Links" to "Blogs". Now it's not coming in right, and I don't know what (the do-dah-day!) I've done wrong. That means I need to step back and calm down. Maybe play a game. My favorite is Bookworm. Yes, I am a nerd.

And now, accidentally, I hung up on a customer. I tried to call him back, but got a busy signal (gee, I wonder why?). My frustration level is rising. No, I haven't taken my pill in a while. I only have one left - and won't have the money to refill until Friday. And it doesn't even work that well!

You know, I know I am pretty darn blessed - great husband (so he's got a few health issues), great son, I still have a job (so far), I can pay my bills, I have a roof over my head. There are just some things I wish I had - self-confidence, self-esteem, if not happiness - contentment.

AARRGH!!

I finally met one of the candidates for Logan County Commissioner - District 2. I guess Kevin Leach, the Democrat expects to get by on his name alone. He certainly hasn't been visiting his constituency. How the hell am I supposed to know anything about him - other than my Husband either knows him or knows of him.

Now the other guy, Republican Mike Pearson, came to our hovel, talked to us, listened to us, you know, what a candidate is supposed to do. He was nice. His ideas, while esteemable, seem a little unworkable. Like he wants to pave the road our road tees off of - Midwest. People drive waaay too fast as it is! So, if it was paved, we'd have to rely on our invisible sheriff's department (I'd vote for the Republican there too, but he's unopposed).

I guess in the scheme of things, what we care about in our district is pretty minor - road drainage, fixing potholes instead of creating temporary speed bumps, getting ditches mowed so you can see what's coming, road graders who actually know what they're doing - and actually DO IT. Well, I can gripe about the City of Guthrie, but since I live outside of it, I can't do anything about it. I CAN do something about my county district.

I know Bubba (the Bassett - possibly Bassett/Beagle) can't ignore the call of nature. I am, in fact, really grateful that he does bark at me to walk him (even at 3:45am), instead of the alternative (which I'm still working on with Cooter the puppy).

It's cloudy and stuffy, the one lamp's light just casting an orange pall, rather than illumination. Bubba's on the bungee leash, Cooter on the cheapie chain leash. One wonders what will happen when Cooter gets older, and matches Bubba pound for pound, because they're usually going in opposite directions, with me in the middle. Right now, Cooter goes where Bubba goes.

We are planning to go our usual way - up the driveway to the road, down the road to the corner (where the light ends) and back. Bubba usually wants to do more, but that's why he's on a leash! So, when we got up to the road, it had never been there before, I guess it looked like a monster to Bubba - big, dark, threatening. He startes running, stretching the leash to the limits, barking his most threatening bark. And yes, that means me and Cooter are in tow. He was ready to attack whatever it was.

"Bubba, it's a trash can!" I'm yelling - being ignored. Yes, a trash can. the big, wheeled type used by cities, designed to be grabbed by a claw on the trash truck. The old guy on the corner must have just contracted with the waste company who handles Guthrie's trash pickup, it's the first time I've seen it.
"Rogue, SHUT UP!" Rogue is the black-and-tan Dachshund who barks because her head rattles, continues to bark after I've gotten Bubba to realize the trash can isn't going to attack. Although I do lift the lid a little and make growling sounds, but Bubba didn't bite on it. He peed on it a couple of times to show his conquest.

I drag the dogs home (almost literally), and fall back into bed. Two hours later, Bubba decides he needs to potty again. It's 6:00am.

**SIGH**

I'm a little sad today, but not as sad as yesterday. I still don't have a lot of self-confidence. I know that if I like my stories, that should be enough. But it's not. I always wanted to be like Harper Lee. I wanted to have that one great book. I'm frustrated. I don't think I'm good enough. Maybe it shouldn't matter, but it does.

In other news - I was really impressed with the Hubby's bathroom work. Yes, the floor is kind of a hodge-podge of not-nailed-down plywood, but there aren't any holes for animals to get in (cats) or out (Bubba the Bassett). And yes, the toilet is still flushing slow, but that's my fault - I accidently flushed a small comb. I did purchase a much better plunger, it doesn't collapse.

My son's Fall Break started yesterday. He and the Hubby went to Edmond and bought some video games and stuff. They may not say so, but they really do like doing things together.

And This Is A Surprise?

I found this article on Yahoo News, stating cost more than stigma, keeps people from getting the help they (I) need for their depression. Like, right now, I'm on Zoloft because it's on the formulary when Lexapro works better on me. Oh, and let's just forget about seeing a counselor! The copay may be $20 or $30 dollars, but, geez, $20-30 a week for how long? !

I just can't afford it.

I'm achy and tired and whatever creativity I claim to have just isn't available right now.

On the upside, the Hubby says he has fixed the toilet and the gaping hole in the bathroom. He says the dogs can no longer use it as an escape route, but the cats may still be able to.

Told the Hubby not to overdo it, he really doesn't bend that way anymore. He said he probably already did, but was about to knock off.

happy days.

Home Improvement?

Back to work after my four day weekend. And I have discovered that my job is not the worst thing I could do. Of course, I basically knew that. My job is just mind-numbing.
The worst things? The things I never want to have to do again? Well, they involve plumbing - and having to crawl under the house.

You know I call my neighborhood Meth Lab Estates, a little mobile home community outside of Guthrie. I live on almost 2 acres, wooded, a dry creek in the back. I live in a 14' x 80' single-wide mobile home - 3 bed, 2 bath. My husband had decided that it had been in a flood, as the floors are rotting. I've kind of decided the flood may have been man-made - the floors rotting away in the kitchen by the sink (the counter of which is also rotted away), by the washing machine, in the two bathrooms, and by the front door.

Yesterday we (meaning my husband), decided to reseat the toilet in the kid's bathroom and put new plywood on the floor. Piece of cake, right?! Wrong! Got everything done - was reconnecting the water line (which for some bizarre reason doesn't have a turnoff knob-thing), and the line leaked - bad. Tried putting a new o-ring in the connector - didn't work. And all the while, because the person we purchased the land from did such a slap-dash job, to turn off our water, you turn off our next door neighbor's (who was, luckily, out) as well. I ran to Lowe's to get parts - but got there after they had closed. In the mean time, the Hubby had found some parts from a previous plumbing adventure, and bypassed the toilet.

Yes, the toilet is connected to the sewer pipe (another hideous job I hope I never have to do again), but since there is no water to the toilet - you have to have a bucket of water handy. Oh and there is an even bigger, gaping hole still in the floor (which Bubba, the basset hound, loves - it being his escape route of choice), since we didn't get finished.

Bubba escaped twice during our home-nonimprovement frenzy. The first time, I slipped on gravel in our dirt driveway, running to get him and fell down forward (today, my knees are killing me). The second time, I was quite harsh to poor Bubba, and he decided to sleep instead of escaping.

I cannot help my husband as much as I would like to. I can't lift as much as he can, or tighten nuts as tightly as he can. And since he had to put himself into, what is for him, unnatural positions - he's in quite a bit of pain and unwilling to finish just yet. I don't blame him. He pushes himself way too hard anyway.

God, I want a new house. I just can't afford one.

Happy Birthday

To Jimmy!!

18!!!

And to sports fans - born on the day the Mets won the Pennant!

There IS a God!

...and he doesn't always ignore me!

I've posted previously how I was bummed my son was going to his Dad's for his 18th birthday, Friday.

Well, yesterday, when I got home from work, I learned Jimmy was scheduled to work, well, his normal shift, Thursday through Monday. Evidently his Dad threw an unholy fit when he found out. I asked Jimmy, when he starts on Saturday, at 3pm, so I said I'd like him to come to my party (at Shorty Small's in Edmond), if his Dad didn't didn't mind. He said he'd get his Dad to come up on Sunday instead. Yeah, he'll only be able to be there like an hour, but I'll take it!

I am SOOO DAMN HAPPY!!!

This is the best birthday ever!

Happy Birthday!

To me!!!

Happy Birthday

To my late, great Father-in-Law - John William!! Sorry not sure what age he would be. But he's a great man and he is missed.

Crappy

It's how I feel.

It's how my weekend was.

I better quit. If I keep on writing, I'll just spew self-hatred.



Yes, I did take my pill - today.

Happy Birthday!

To Mama!

She may not be here, but it's still her birthday! She would've been 80!!

For God's sake, don't smoke!

He knew he shouldn't be here. Maybe... Maybe he was dangerous. He needed to go away - far away, to figure out who, or what, he had become.
But here he still was, as if looking into a window on the past. Some questions had been answered, replaced with others. Why was still there, and it cut right to the bone.
Then he noticed her, a little speck in the distance, sitting on the dock looking into the dark water moving beneath her. She shouldn't be there. She wasn't allowed in the daytime, much less now. He could vaguely hear her mother calling for her. She should be able to hear, why was she ignoring her mother?

"What are you doing, sweetie?" You would think you could hear his heart break. "You know you shouldn't be here."

"I wanted to see you, Daddy. Mommy said you were gone. That I wasn't going to see you any more."

"I have to go away, sweetie. I'm not...I don't..."

"Then take me with you!"

"Oh, honey, you know I can't do that," his voice breaks, "Daddy has changed and nobody can know. I have to go now. You run back to the house, your mother's frantic. Just know I will always, always love you! You will always be my little girl! Now go home! Go on!"

He watches the girl run back to the house, the frantic cries for the girl turning into anger. He swims away.

Of All the Charlie Browns in the World...

I am the Charlie Browniest!

Really insecure!

Kinda sad - and crampy.

I really need to stop comparing myself to others. It doesn't go well.

I don't know, I guess I should have just left it in my head.

I'm not special. I'm not going to amount to anything more than I am right now.

**SIGH**

For You, Jon

I have four stories that rotate in my head. All with beginnings and middles, but no clear end. Two have more backgroud, because they're older. And they're all different catagories (in no particular order):

• 1 is fantasyish, actually yet another variation of Aladdin's Lamp. A boy, early teens, buys a knickknack (not sure what - lamps have been done to death) in an antique store for his mom (she's divorced from his dad, and while she tries to make sure he has a good relationship with his father, who treats fatherhood as more of a hobby, talking is difficult and they usually end up in an argument). The genie (or is it djin?), was a man in his early thirties, a little arrogant, a lot vain, who was to sell his horses to (important guy [emir, vizeer - I don't know]). He has an affair with important guy's daughter. Long story short, family is murdered, horses taken, and he cursed to be a genie (djin?) looking like a boy, early teens, fair skin, blue eyes. But, I've been thinking, it may have been set up, though the genie doesn't know that, and of course, blames himself. When the boy releases the genie, he's freaked out, overjoyed, is thinking of millions of things he wants, but remembers the story of The Monkeys Paw. So he's not sure he can safely wish for anything, other than for the genie to speak english.

And that's the beginning of that one.

I AM SOOO BORED!!

I'm bored, and I may have forgotten to take my anti-depressant.

I've been doing schedule changes. Those are the changes airlines make to already booked resvervations: time changes, flight number changes, connection changes, etc. They get put into a schedule change queue. To work them, you make sure the connections are valid, inform the passenger, and send them a new itinerary.

Three words:

MIND NUMBINGLY BORING!

Now I've been taken out of schedule changes and put back into Customer Service. It's another one of those I-wish-I-was-still-at-Hertz days. No, I don't feel completely culpable for losing my Hertz job, they knew I was depressed, they could have worked with me. I didn't care about money - I just wanted the time off. But I wasn't nervy enough to fight for my job. Maybe I wasn't that recovered. And maybe I didn't really want to go back. Hertz is the best, where ever in the world you're wanting to rent, but they treat their employees like crap.

And, yeah Jon, I know I'm repeating myself. What can I say, my life is boring. I want more, but I can't tell you what I want.

My Weekend

I took a vacation day Friday. The Hubby and I went out to eat (a big deal if you don't do it often) at Marie Callender's. Kind of a trek for us, since we live in Guthrie and Marie Callender's is in Norman (what, like 60 miles?). Good stuff, and brought a sugar-free Razzleberry pie back for the M-in-L.

Also on Friday, the Hubby's son's friend and his wife had their baby, Isabella Michelle. Poor girl (yes, I can call her a girl, she's only 21 or 22) was in labor for, like, two days, got fully dilated, then still had to have a caesarean. Didn't really follow why, something about the baby not turned right (give me something I understand, like meconium aspriation). Baby is beautiful, 6lbs 10oz, healthy (thank God, since the mother smokes - ick). DID NOT HOLD THE BABY. That would have been a dangerous thing to do.

**SIGH**

I wanted to have more children.

Enough dwelling on things that aren't going to happen.

Had been wondering why my son had been so moody lately.

1. He has not been taking his anti-depressant.
2. He had a secret.

We learned what that was Saturday, but not from him. Received from his dad an itinerary, booked on September 21st. Jimmy's flying down to his Dad's on his birthday (Oct. 15th) for the weekend. Now, I'm not going to begrudge him the weekend, but they always do the exact same thing: eating out, going to a movie. It's been the same since the divorce was final in March of '90 (which has always annoyed the piss out of me, but what can I say?). Now Jimmy's work schedule is usually from Thursday through Monday, sometimes Thursday through Sunday and Tuesday. The Hubby was furious, and I was disappointed (I was wanting to have the Tri-Birthday party). Jimmy was acting better this morning (about the only time I ever see him anymore). Since personality-wise, he's like me, I can only go on conjecture. I think he feels better with the weight off his shoulders. He knew we'd be upset. I know I tend to make mountains out of molehills, so when whatever I'm stressing over is over, it's actually a relief.

I may still have a party that weekend, but I don't know. I don't want to have it at my hovel, excuse me, my house. I'd rather have it at my Mother-in-laws, but I don't think she would like that. I would want Randy (the Hubby) to cook (ribs, chicken, maybe turkey legs). Smoked potatoes would be good, too.

Oh, and Jimmy did remember to go get his yearbook picture taken on Friday afternoon, which I had actually forgotten.

The rest of the weekend was pretty unremarkable. I did get caught up on my weekday tv, tape for me. We had to get a new VCR, the old one (not that old) started to eat tapes. Maybe now I'll get to see CSI-Miami.

My life is so interesting.