I love the Hubby. I do. He's my big, giant teddy bear with blue eyes and a wacky immune system. But I can't stand his politics.
Before the Iraq mess, we were actually pretty close, me a moderate democrat, him a moderate republican (actually, more of a Jesse Ventura Independent). But since then, it's like the things we agree on don't matter. He treats George Bush like he's a babe in the woods. Nothing is his fault, it's all those bad, bad people surrounding him. And now, the NSA spying - it's okay - they listened to Al Queda (yeah, I don't know how to spell it) people, and they had to do it, and on, and on. I was dumbfounded.
I tried to tell him that even "bad" people have rights in this country, but it was like he just shut down.
I don't know what to do. I don't know how to convince him of how corrupt all republicans are. Any help from whatever readers I have would be appreciated.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Friday, January 27, 2006
I've Made A Decision
I don't want to work anymore.
It's not getting me anywhere. I mean, goddamn, I'm barely out of poverty level (just over $13 per hour). And if you're supposed to do something you love, I'm screwed there, too. Everything I'd like to do is free: teach people to read, read to children, work at a museum. Working a a bookstore would be cool, too, but it's just over minimum wage.
Yeah, I know I'm being whiney and selfish. I ought to just be thankful for what I have. And I do have much to be thankful for.
I can't get over the feeling of being an idling car, with the idle stuck too high, I need to be going somewhere.
It's not getting me anywhere. I mean, goddamn, I'm barely out of poverty level (just over $13 per hour). And if you're supposed to do something you love, I'm screwed there, too. Everything I'd like to do is free: teach people to read, read to children, work at a museum. Working a a bookstore would be cool, too, but it's just over minimum wage.
Yeah, I know I'm being whiney and selfish. I ought to just be thankful for what I have. And I do have much to be thankful for.
I can't get over the feeling of being an idling car, with the idle stuck too high, I need to be going somewhere.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Found a Great Book!
The First American,
The Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin
By H.W. Brands.
So far, I'm only up to the 1750's, and the French and Indian War, but Ben Franklin Rocks!!
The Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin
By H.W. Brands.
So far, I'm only up to the 1750's, and the French and Indian War, but Ben Franklin Rocks!!
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Bastard Child
Mental Illness, I mean. It always seems to be the last to be considered. The last to be treated as an illness. Mix-ups in the first weeks of the Medicare drug benefit have vexed many beneficiaries and pharmacists. Dr. Steven S. Sharfstein, president of the American Psychiatric Association, said the transition from Medicaid to Medicare had had a particularly severe impact on low-income patients with serious, persistent mental illnesses. States Robert Pear in this article in the NY Times (registration may be required). Can anyone say they didn't see this coming?
I've spent most of my life battling depression (it's sitting on my doorstep right now), The last episodes my main problem being what my insurance did or did not cover (which plays into one of my main irrational fears - not having enough money - or spending money on myself): large copays or deductibles, is the antidepressant covered under the formulary, otherwise is there a reduced price I can pay because if I have to pay full price, I probably won't buy it (see irrational fear above).
I don't know why I get depressed (I'm still leaning toward bipolarII), and why so often, and why for little or no reason. It's an illness. I kind of wish my mother were still alive, not just for me to talk to (pre-stroke), but to realize there was nothing she and Daddy could have done when I was a kid to make me happy, since the drugs didn't exist then.
Goddamn I hate the insurance industry.Health Care should be a right, not a privledge. It should be available to everybody, rich, poor and inbetween.
I've spent most of my life battling depression (it's sitting on my doorstep right now), The last episodes my main problem being what my insurance did or did not cover (which plays into one of my main irrational fears - not having enough money - or spending money on myself): large copays or deductibles, is the antidepressant covered under the formulary, otherwise is there a reduced price I can pay because if I have to pay full price, I probably won't buy it (see irrational fear above).
I don't know why I get depressed (I'm still leaning toward bipolarII), and why so often, and why for little or no reason. It's an illness. I kind of wish my mother were still alive, not just for me to talk to (pre-stroke), but to realize there was nothing she and Daddy could have done when I was a kid to make me happy, since the drugs didn't exist then.
Goddamn I hate the insurance industry.Health Care should be a right, not a privledge. It should be available to everybody, rich, poor and inbetween.
Monday, January 16, 2006
A Pretty Good Weekend
Though, technically, the middle of my work week.
I had told the Hubby of my dream to own 2 Bassets and 2 Dachshunds: 2 big wienie dogs and 2 little wienie dogs. Besides, we have to have some sort of watchdog, even if she's just an alarm. Bassets are big love puppies. They just don't know strangers. Dachshunds are fierce watchdogs, with more courage than brains. Like this story, from a couple years ago, where a doxie attacks a bear. Typical.
Well, the Hubby still isn't ready for another Basset - and even further since the setbacks of last week, but warmed to the idea of a dachshund puppy. So, Saturday, I was at work, looking online at the Oklahoman's dog classified ads - no Bassets, lots of Dachshunds.
"So, I should buy a paper?" the Hubby asks (I call him on breaks, otherwise I go insane), when I tell him about the ads I saw.
"I guess so."
At lunch he told me he was thrown out of Wal-Mart because he brought in a dog. A doxie female we've named "Ziva" after the Israeli agent on NCIS. We're calling her dappled, because we really don't know, she's brown and black and right now the size of a rat. Bubba's still intimidating to her (he's delighted, and so gentle with her), but she loves the cat! Luckily, even though he's a neutered male, he's very maternal, and lets Ziva play with him (for a while), and even licked her face (which Ziva really didn't like).
Sunday was a settling in day. Not expecting anything to happen. Playing with the puppy. Making sure Bubba wasn't jealous. Watching the previous weeks recorded tv shows. We get a phone call. I don't recognize the number or person, which usually means I don't answer the phone, but this time I did. It was a representative from Ozark Mountain Basset Rescue! And while concerned with Bubba's full manhood, it wasn't an automatic decline, and not having a fenced yard was also not an automatic decline! She wanted to make sure Bubba's up to date with his vacinations (he is!), and we'll have to have a home visit, and then we pick which one we want!!
Oh, I sooo don't want to jinx this!!
I had told the Hubby of my dream to own 2 Bassets and 2 Dachshunds: 2 big wienie dogs and 2 little wienie dogs. Besides, we have to have some sort of watchdog, even if she's just an alarm. Bassets are big love puppies. They just don't know strangers. Dachshunds are fierce watchdogs, with more courage than brains. Like this story, from a couple years ago, where a doxie attacks a bear. Typical.
Well, the Hubby still isn't ready for another Basset - and even further since the setbacks of last week, but warmed to the idea of a dachshund puppy. So, Saturday, I was at work, looking online at the Oklahoman's dog classified ads - no Bassets, lots of Dachshunds.
"So, I should buy a paper?" the Hubby asks (I call him on breaks, otherwise I go insane), when I tell him about the ads I saw.
"I guess so."
At lunch he told me he was thrown out of Wal-Mart because he brought in a dog. A doxie female we've named "Ziva" after the Israeli agent on NCIS. We're calling her dappled, because we really don't know, she's brown and black and right now the size of a rat. Bubba's still intimidating to her (he's delighted, and so gentle with her), but she loves the cat! Luckily, even though he's a neutered male, he's very maternal, and lets Ziva play with him (for a while), and even licked her face (which Ziva really didn't like).
Sunday was a settling in day. Not expecting anything to happen. Playing with the puppy. Making sure Bubba wasn't jealous. Watching the previous weeks recorded tv shows. We get a phone call. I don't recognize the number or person, which usually means I don't answer the phone, but this time I did. It was a representative from Ozark Mountain Basset Rescue! And while concerned with Bubba's full manhood, it wasn't an automatic decline, and not having a fenced yard was also not an automatic decline! She wanted to make sure Bubba's up to date with his vacinations (he is!), and we'll have to have a home visit, and then we pick which one we want!!
Oh, I sooo don't want to jinx this!!
Friday, January 13, 2006
God-Forbid I Wanted A Child
All I wanted was to get a companion for Bubba and the Hubby. Since Cooter's passing, Bubba wants to be walked about every two hours, less to potty than to find a friend to play with.
Since there haven't been any Basset puppies in the paper, I thought, hey, how about a shelter or rescue Basset, not unlike our own Bubba, once a stray in the neighborhood. Looked up on petfinders.com, found Beatrice in Yukon, OK. I thought, Wow, a sign from God! My Mother's name was (is?) Bea. We get there, and while I was walking Bubba, excited from all the dogs there, the Hubby went inside. Well, he was asked A LEADING QUESTION: do you have a fenced yard? Unfortuneatly, the Hubby answered honestly - no, we live on about an acre and a half outside of town. Our dogs are inside dogs, going out to potty on a leash, (or, in the case of Heidi and Rogue just letting them out - they weren't Basset Hounds and stayed in the yard). Always in our sight. Didn't matter, that was their rule. Too bad, so sad.
Well, The Hubby and Bubba were crushed, and I felt like a crumb for having suggested it. Not to mention, if there is a God (which I doubt), he (she/it) is toying with us. I don't appreciate it.
I decided to try a rescue operation. Filled out the app online. Just heard back from one (I filled out 2), because Bubba (who, remember, just wandered into our lives) wasn't neutered and our cat doesn't have his vacinations we can't adopt. It doesn't matter that we're good canine and feline parents. That we treat them better than some people do their actual kids.
Oh, well, I guess we wait for a puppy. I know Bubba's lonely, but his whining is really getting on my nerves.
I'd like to say I tried, but I only feel so worthless. I can't even get a throwaway dog.
Since there haven't been any Basset puppies in the paper, I thought, hey, how about a shelter or rescue Basset, not unlike our own Bubba, once a stray in the neighborhood. Looked up on petfinders.com, found Beatrice in Yukon, OK. I thought, Wow, a sign from God! My Mother's name was (is?) Bea. We get there, and while I was walking Bubba, excited from all the dogs there, the Hubby went inside. Well, he was asked A LEADING QUESTION: do you have a fenced yard? Unfortuneatly, the Hubby answered honestly - no, we live on about an acre and a half outside of town. Our dogs are inside dogs, going out to potty on a leash, (or, in the case of Heidi and Rogue just letting them out - they weren't Basset Hounds and stayed in the yard). Always in our sight. Didn't matter, that was their rule. Too bad, so sad.
Well, The Hubby and Bubba were crushed, and I felt like a crumb for having suggested it. Not to mention, if there is a God (which I doubt), he (she/it) is toying with us. I don't appreciate it.
I decided to try a rescue operation. Filled out the app online. Just heard back from one (I filled out 2), because Bubba (who, remember, just wandered into our lives) wasn't neutered and our cat doesn't have his vacinations we can't adopt. It doesn't matter that we're good canine and feline parents. That we treat them better than some people do their actual kids.
Oh, well, I guess we wait for a puppy. I know Bubba's lonely, but his whining is really getting on my nerves.
I'd like to say I tried, but I only feel so worthless. I can't even get a throwaway dog.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
SIGH....You Talk About Your UPHILL Battles!
I have to come clean.
I am a cronic petition signer. There isn't hardly a petition or "let your Congressman know!" that goes by that doesn't get me into a later. Impeaching Bush (HELL YEAH!! I'll give him his constitutional rights, which is alot more than he's giving us); Saying no to Alito; drilling in ANWR; the past (ghastly) budget, and on and on.
Now Coburn may be a nutball, typical borg drone - not a thought in his head that doesn't come from the RNC - but he does answer his email.
In fact, here's his answer to impeachment:
Dear Ms. Not Together (yes, it was to my real name):
Thank you for your e-mail regarding impeachment proceedings for PresidentBush. I am opposed to any effort to impeach the President based upon hisdecision to go to War with Iraq.
There are no grounds that exist (aside: Can you BELIEVE this?!) for one to legitimately seek the impeachment of George W. Bush. Impeachment proceedings have only occurred twice in the history of ourRepublic. The rarity of impeachment underscores what I believe to be the central importance of elected representatives exercising great caution when contemplating impeachment. Impeachment is not meant as a partisan political weapon nor should it be used as a vehicle to discredit an individual at the nation's ultimate expense(Ha, hahahahaha!!). It should be used as theFounding Fathers wished - as a way to uphold the moral authority of the office of the president and serve as a check on the power of the executive should that person through criminal misconduct no longer be able to carryout the laws of the United States. The calls for impeachment against the President today are politicallymotivated efforts by members of the minority party to remove him fromoffice. The primary reason cited for this is the President's mishandlingof pre-Iraq War intelligence. The bi-partisan Senate Select Committee onIntelligence already has conducted an investigation into pre-Iraq warintelligence. This committee found no evidence intelligence was distortedto make the case for war. The Robb-Silberman Commission also reached thesame conclusion and found, in addition, the intelligence presented tosenators was less dramatic than that seen by the President. Thisintelligence led 77 senators to support the war resolution. I amconvinced the President made his decision to go to Iraq based upon theinformation he was presented at the time. Even President Clinton -operating upon the same intelligence - reached the conclusion in 1998 thatSaddam Hussein should be removed. Given these facts, I am more thanconvinced the President is not in any danger of being impeached byCongress. Once again, thank you very much for contacting me. Sincerely, A Tom Coburn United States Senator
It just makes me want to beat my head against the wall.
I am a cronic petition signer. There isn't hardly a petition or "let your Congressman know!" that goes by that doesn't get me into a later. Impeaching Bush (HELL YEAH!! I'll give him his constitutional rights, which is alot more than he's giving us); Saying no to Alito; drilling in ANWR; the past (ghastly) budget, and on and on.
Now Coburn may be a nutball, typical borg drone - not a thought in his head that doesn't come from the RNC - but he does answer his email.
In fact, here's his answer to impeachment:
Dear Ms. Not Together (yes, it was to my real name):
Thank you for your e-mail regarding impeachment proceedings for PresidentBush. I am opposed to any effort to impeach the President based upon hisdecision to go to War with Iraq.
There are no grounds that exist (aside: Can you BELIEVE this?!) for one to legitimately seek the impeachment of George W. Bush. Impeachment proceedings have only occurred twice in the history of ourRepublic. The rarity of impeachment underscores what I believe to be the central importance of elected representatives exercising great caution when contemplating impeachment. Impeachment is not meant as a partisan political weapon nor should it be used as a vehicle to discredit an individual at the nation's ultimate expense(Ha, hahahahaha!!). It should be used as theFounding Fathers wished - as a way to uphold the moral authority of the office of the president and serve as a check on the power of the executive should that person through criminal misconduct no longer be able to carryout the laws of the United States. The calls for impeachment against the President today are politicallymotivated efforts by members of the minority party to remove him fromoffice. The primary reason cited for this is the President's mishandlingof pre-Iraq War intelligence. The bi-partisan Senate Select Committee onIntelligence already has conducted an investigation into pre-Iraq warintelligence. This committee found no evidence intelligence was distortedto make the case for war. The Robb-Silberman Commission also reached thesame conclusion and found, in addition, the intelligence presented tosenators was less dramatic than that seen by the President. Thisintelligence led 77 senators to support the war resolution. I amconvinced the President made his decision to go to Iraq based upon theinformation he was presented at the time. Even President Clinton -operating upon the same intelligence - reached the conclusion in 1998 thatSaddam Hussein should be removed. Given these facts, I am more thanconvinced the President is not in any danger of being impeached byCongress. Once again, thank you very much for contacting me. Sincerely, A Tom Coburn United States Senator
It just makes me want to beat my head against the wall.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Am I Wrong?
Maybe I'm wrong.
Had an argument with the Hubby. Or should I say another one. This one about changing banks. I've wanted to for a long time. Tried once, with BOK, with them screwing us, so we went back. I have my reasons to want to change. I want not just online banking, but online bill pay free. Aaaaand the M-in-L works for our bank.
Now you can guess what the argument was about. He likes having her as a cushion to fall back on. I don't like that she has ultimate say-so over what we do. I want to sink or swim on our own.
Am I wrong?
GOD!!! I MISS MY MOTHER!!!
Had an argument with the Hubby. Or should I say another one. This one about changing banks. I've wanted to for a long time. Tried once, with BOK, with them screwing us, so we went back. I have my reasons to want to change. I want not just online banking, but online bill pay free. Aaaaand the M-in-L works for our bank.
Now you can guess what the argument was about. He likes having her as a cushion to fall back on. I don't like that she has ultimate say-so over what we do. I want to sink or swim on our own.
Am I wrong?
GOD!!! I MISS MY MOTHER!!!
Guess I Oughta Comment
On the story about the Tulsa pastor who got his "hands" caught in the cookie jar here in OKC.
HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA!!
(wipes tears from eyes)
Oh, my.
You know, that's probably the reason the TULSA pastor was in OKC. "Ministering to police" he says.
I'm sure.
HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA!!
(wipes tears from eyes)
Oh, my.
You know, that's probably the reason the TULSA pastor was in OKC. "Ministering to police" he says.
I'm sure.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Random Thoughts
What kind of freakin' masochist am I that I added Sitemeter?! I can count my readers on one hand!
Oh, and another thing that came to me: Does it make me a lesbian to like my own boobs? Yeah, I'll admit to being big, not gross, but big. At the most cute, but not pretty. But I have some nice boobs, IMHO. And not just nice for a 46-year-old.
Oh, and another thing that came to me: Does it make me a lesbian to like my own boobs? Yeah, I'll admit to being big, not gross, but big. At the most cute, but not pretty. But I have some nice boobs, IMHO. And not just nice for a 46-year-old.
I was going to title this "Some Introspection". But then I realized, Some Introspection?! Hellfire! That's all I do!
Goodbye and good riddance to 2005.
I got my oil lease money in January (yeah, I looking forward to doing my taxes this year). It was nice to be able to live, for a while at least, without having to think "Do I have the money, will I be able to pay my bills?" I crashed twice in 2005, the first time, in March?, April? In the middle of getting the new manufactered house, while living with the M-in-L (I will be homeless before I do that again!). It was the first time I was in group therapy and a (quasi) hospital setting. I had spent most, if not all of 2004, gaining weight, dutifully taking my Zoloft, and wondering what the hell was wrong with me. Like most times, I'm in counselling, taking an anti-depressant - feel great. Then the world gets in the way. By-the-by, we're spinning you off to Trilegiant. They don't have Aetna, so you'll have to switch to Cigna. That, in and of itself, wan't bad - it was cheaper and covered more - except for my psychiatrist at the time (great guy - Dr. Chakraburti - Dr. Chak for short). Then there are problems with copays and coverage, and that just feeds into my (not quite so) irrational fear of spending money on myself.
My son enlisted in the Navy, being promised the nuclear program (evidently he went off the scale of whatever-the-hell test that is they go by), in February. For a good long while he tried to make me feel guilty for that - that I forced him to enlist. And there were low times that I bought into that, and felt incredibly guilty. But I realized I had spent all of his high school years picking out colleges for him. I wanted him to go to college, away from us, away from his (creepy, controlling) Dad. He was not going to be a loser. Period. I'm cool with his lacking direction, focus. I'm cool with his not knowing what he wanted to do. But you have to DO SOMETHING. You can always do something else later on. And it really has improved him (although, it hasn't made him taller, or gain weight - he says 10lbs). And it has limited contact with (creepy, controlling) dad. Now if he'll only realize he deserves a life of his own. He graduated in May, delivering the Pledge of Alliegiance at graduation, and went into the Navy in September.
Aaaaand September is when I crashed again - making a "suicidal gesture", clutching, but not taking, my husband's Lunesta I had stowed away, I drove myself to my doctor. At the crux of alot of things: Jimmy's leaving, my Aunt (pronounced ain't) Ninny's dying, money problems, company being sold - again, different health insurance - again. This time I spent 4 days inpatient at Saint Anthony's (wow! that was a trip), and then went to SHARE at Saint Anthony's. SHARE is great! If you're in the OKC area, it's the best. Expensive as hell, but at some time you have to decide you're worth it. It was there that it was suggested I may be Bipolar II, since my childhood wasn't that bad, but I was depressed anyway. I think so, but the diagnosis isn't official yet. I'm trying to keep watch over myself.
At the beginning of November, I had a great vacation in, and fell in love with, Charleston, SC - meeting Jimmy there after his graduation from basics. Yes, we're going back this year. The M-in-L threatens to go with us. I was at a happiness level that, in my imagination, was close to mania.
Now we're at the end of the year, which closes on the illness and loss of our beloved Cooter - my canine son. We will get a new puppy at some point, but as of yet are still in mourning.
So, now we're in 2006. The middle of January starts the 20th year of Jimmy, culminating in his birthday of October 15. Hopefully drilling will start on the Roger Mills County property, and I'll be rolling in dough (I know, I'm counting chickens). I'm looking to improve myself in some way - to be determined. I'd like to get out more, as money permits, whether the Hubby wants to or not. The big lesson from the latest group being, If I don't take care of myself, who will? And the lesser, but still important, I'm the only one I can fix.
I'm optimistic for the year.
This will be the year we start taking our country back from the Borg.
The constitution will stage an amazing comeback, with the realization NOBODY is above the law
A good portion of the Borg will not just fear for their jobs, but have prison time staring them in the face.
We'll either start to, or get out of, Iraq.
And I'm still waiting for my "Star Trek" future, where respect and tolerance rule the day.
Goodbye and good riddance to 2005.
I got my oil lease money in January (yeah, I looking forward to doing my taxes this year). It was nice to be able to live, for a while at least, without having to think "Do I have the money, will I be able to pay my bills?" I crashed twice in 2005, the first time, in March?, April? In the middle of getting the new manufactered house, while living with the M-in-L (I will be homeless before I do that again!). It was the first time I was in group therapy and a (quasi) hospital setting. I had spent most, if not all of 2004, gaining weight, dutifully taking my Zoloft, and wondering what the hell was wrong with me. Like most times, I'm in counselling, taking an anti-depressant - feel great. Then the world gets in the way. By-the-by, we're spinning you off to Trilegiant. They don't have Aetna, so you'll have to switch to Cigna. That, in and of itself, wan't bad - it was cheaper and covered more - except for my psychiatrist at the time (great guy - Dr. Chakraburti - Dr. Chak for short). Then there are problems with copays and coverage, and that just feeds into my (not quite so) irrational fear of spending money on myself.
My son enlisted in the Navy, being promised the nuclear program (evidently he went off the scale of whatever-the-hell test that is they go by), in February. For a good long while he tried to make me feel guilty for that - that I forced him to enlist. And there were low times that I bought into that, and felt incredibly guilty. But I realized I had spent all of his high school years picking out colleges for him. I wanted him to go to college, away from us, away from his (creepy, controlling) Dad. He was not going to be a loser. Period. I'm cool with his lacking direction, focus. I'm cool with his not knowing what he wanted to do. But you have to DO SOMETHING. You can always do something else later on. And it really has improved him (although, it hasn't made him taller, or gain weight - he says 10lbs). And it has limited contact with (creepy, controlling) dad. Now if he'll only realize he deserves a life of his own. He graduated in May, delivering the Pledge of Alliegiance at graduation, and went into the Navy in September.
Aaaaand September is when I crashed again - making a "suicidal gesture", clutching, but not taking, my husband's Lunesta I had stowed away, I drove myself to my doctor. At the crux of alot of things: Jimmy's leaving, my Aunt (pronounced ain't) Ninny's dying, money problems, company being sold - again, different health insurance - again. This time I spent 4 days inpatient at Saint Anthony's (wow! that was a trip), and then went to SHARE at Saint Anthony's. SHARE is great! If you're in the OKC area, it's the best. Expensive as hell, but at some time you have to decide you're worth it. It was there that it was suggested I may be Bipolar II, since my childhood wasn't that bad, but I was depressed anyway. I think so, but the diagnosis isn't official yet. I'm trying to keep watch over myself.
At the beginning of November, I had a great vacation in, and fell in love with, Charleston, SC - meeting Jimmy there after his graduation from basics. Yes, we're going back this year. The M-in-L threatens to go with us. I was at a happiness level that, in my imagination, was close to mania.
Now we're at the end of the year, which closes on the illness and loss of our beloved Cooter - my canine son. We will get a new puppy at some point, but as of yet are still in mourning.
So, now we're in 2006. The middle of January starts the 20th year of Jimmy, culminating in his birthday of October 15. Hopefully drilling will start on the Roger Mills County property, and I'll be rolling in dough (I know, I'm counting chickens). I'm looking to improve myself in some way - to be determined. I'd like to get out more, as money permits, whether the Hubby wants to or not. The big lesson from the latest group being, If I don't take care of myself, who will? And the lesser, but still important, I'm the only one I can fix.
I'm optimistic for the year.
This will be the year we start taking our country back from the Borg.
The constitution will stage an amazing comeback, with the realization NOBODY is above the law
A good portion of the Borg will not just fear for their jobs, but have prison time staring them in the face.
We'll either start to, or get out of, Iraq.
And I'm still waiting for my "Star Trek" future, where respect and tolerance rule the day.
Friday, December 30, 2005
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.
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.
Monday, December 26, 2005
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?
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?
Friday, December 23, 2005
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!
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!
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
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!!
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!!
Thursday, December 15, 2005
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
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!
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!
Thursday, December 08, 2005
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!
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!
Friday, December 02, 2005
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!!
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!!
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