You're Damn Straight!!

I am: -3% Republican.

"You're a damn Commie! Where's Tailgunner Joe when we need him?"

Are You A Republican? From Lean Left

God Damn!

You would think that with just about everything blocked all to hell at work (internet-wise), that the freakin' thing would run faster.

BUT NOOOO!!! If anything, it's actually slower! And blocking the internet doesn't keep us (me) from screwing off at work. You just have to do the analog version - reading a book (right now Angels & Demons by Dan Brown) or newspaper, doodling, or writing the old fashioned way. And God knows, it's actually better for both the company and me to just let me screw off a little. I am in the death-throes of job burnout. But since I'm the main provider - I'm stuck.

Oh, have now heard horror stories coming from the new Dell call center here in OKC. Reminds me of when I was at Hertz. People left to go to AOL, To Sprint, To Lucent, etc. It was supposed to be soooo much better. The grass is greener, people. A call center is a call center is a call center, ad infinitem.

Anyway, I had a really good session with my therapist Thursday evening. He had given me an article on assertiveness to read. About the different catagories: Passive, Passive-Agressive, Agressive, and Assertive. After reading the article I decided I'm more Passive at home, but Passive-Agressive at work (Who, Me? No, surely you don't mean me?!). And since my passivity at home is based on irrational fears, I have to work on an independent, assertive me. I have to stop all negative thoughts, and turn them into positive ones. When somebody says something negative to me - I tell them I'm not going to take that anymore.

Easily said, hard to do.

Also, since I'm not exactly the biggest risk-taker, as a depressed child I did nothing that I thought would embarrass me, and my parent were always there to pick up the pieces. So I have to take risks now. One thing I've been positively ordered to do - is to start getting the 5 rotating stories out of my head and onto paper. Going to college would be easier for me. The thought of having my stories on paper where anybody can see them, criticize them (me), just scares the hoo out of me. I'm going to try, heck, I have to try. One of my (possibly irrational) fears is, what if they suck? That I like my stories is pointless.

Oooooh, Scary!

I just don't want to talk anymore!

Thank god it's my Friday. My anger is just building and building. One call after another, endlessly.

And now, they've gone back to blocking almost everything, so I can't look at my email. I just don't know what I'd do if they blocked blogger. I'm close to a breaking point as it is.

And, you know, who made it okay for us peons to have to work ourselves to death? For crappy-ass pay, to boot?! Where is all this crowing about "family values" when we're having to do mandatory overtime? It's like I've said before, I'll give my work (grudgingly) their 8 hours, but after that, it's just not my time to give away. And why is it someone who makes 24 million (true) a year telling me how much I should work, how much pay I should be satisfied with (and how the company can't afford to give me more), how they can't afford my meager benefits, or incentives?!

Just kiss my large, white ass - I want to go home.

Ya Know....

I've decided I want a new kind of cruise control. My commute to work is 45-50 minutes, almost all interstate highway. I just want to set my car to drive the interstate portion so I can take a nap. You know, stay in one lane, stay a certain distance from the car ahead, stay a certain speed, those could be done without my input. Then when it gets close to something it can't do, it wakes me up and I take over.

I don't think that's so far fetched.

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

Blaaaah

Just one of those days. A little down, but it's more like the week without my 50mg of Zoloft, than actually having a reason to be down.

The war between Jimmy and the Hubby may be over. Jimmy told him he had to go to the Navy Recruiters office, or so - this is all second hand. Maybe he called from school. Anyway, the hubby told him the reason he wanted him to call and tell him where he's going was that he's concerned. The hubby says Jimmy said, "I'm kinda slow." So I guess after the Navy, he called and told him he was going to the mall. The hubby says Jimmy will get his PSP back when he proves his resposibility.

And I guess that may be what Jimmy was slow to learn: the difference between concern and control. Because on that same night....

Yeah, I'm paying for a phone line I'm not using. The new house has no jacks, and the thought of paying $110 per to the phone co kind of galls us. The Hubby says he's going to put it in (shiver). So, Jimmys dad can't pester us. He does have Jimmy's cel phone number, and the M-in-L's number. You might say my Ex's motto is "Nothing succeeds like excess." If you can't get him the first time, keep calling until you do. So at one point, he calls the M-in-L, and of course she doesn't know where he is.
So when he got home, we asked, "Is your phone turned off?"
He shows the phone, "no."
"You know your dad's trying to get a hold of you?"
"Yeah, I talked to him."

Well, I thought it was damn funny.

The difference between concern and control (that's slipping away - again).

The difference between a Dad and a Father.

Yeah, Jimmy may be slow, but I think he's come around.

Life Happens to Horses, Too

Yesterday, Thursday, was my Sunday. Me and the Hubby went over to the M-in-L's in the morning to do the chores, walk dogs (our Basset, Bubba is kind of particular about where he'll poop), feed chickens, make sure the miniature horses have water. Most of the girls have babies now: Pest (yes, that's her registered name - she kind of named herself), Star Baby (black/brown with a little white star on her forehead), Ima (no clue about the name), B.B. (for Black Beauty), Beauty, Molly. B.B., Beauty, and Molly (her's born yesterday) all have red colts, Star Baby's is starting to turn from the Charcoal color it was born with to the Black/brown of her mother, Ima's might be her washed out, off-white color, and Pest's is a Pinto like her, but mostly black/brown.

The gestation period for a horse is 11 months (and as a human female, that just makes me cringe). We've been watching a horse for a while, as she kept getting bigger and bigger. Her registered name is Fancy Girl, but we've always called her C.B. (Cookie's Baby). The M-in-L calls her a buckskin (sorry, don't know horse colors), she has a tan body, with a black mane, tail and legs. Well, yesterday, I was walking Bubba in the hay field (you know, you can put cheap chain leashes together, then wrap one around your waist and have your hands free!), and Randy was just outside the hayfield, walking down the pasture. I lost him when I turned and went back to the front yard, so I (well, me and Bubba) went back out to the pasture. I found him on the opposite side (the M-in-L's place is roughly in thirds - hay field, middle opposite). He yelled at me to get my cel phone, because he had forgotten his (and he almost never forgets). So I go back to the truck and get my phone. I take it out to him and C.B. is rolling on the ground, but nothings coming out. Randy says he went to look for her when he didn't see her. He calls his Mom (who was going to give blood), but he doesn't have the vet's phone number, it's in his phone. So I walk quickly back to the house and call the vet. We think she's having problems, but we don't know, John, the F-in-L, was the horse guy.

We get a rope around C.B. and get her to lay down (she tromped on my foot in so doing). I'm holding her head down, and stroking her neck. It took a while, but the Vet pulled out the colt - dead. He says it's head was cocked to the side, and when she was rolling around in pain, broke it's neck. He said she had been in labor for hours. He gave her a sedative, a pain shot, and a penicillin shot. And he left. Poor thing, she started to chew off the afterbirth, and was licking the colt. That made me cry.
"Honey, he's dead," I said. Of course saying that doesn't make it any easier - and she is a horse.

Randy got out the trackhoe and buried the colt and the afterbirth, the M-in-L has coyotes pretty bad. And that was all before 11AM. Later on, in the early evening, we moved her to the barn. She was still having some problems walking, the colt's cocked head had pinched a nerve on her right side. But she'll be safe.

The vet said we needed to get her bred as soon as possible, to keep her from having fertility problems. Me and the Hubby just looked at each other, it didn't seem right.

We don't consider her livestock.

I've been tagged by Corndog to try Caesar's Meme:

Behold, the Caesar’s Bath meme! List five things that people in your circle of friends or peer group are wild about, but you can’t really understand the fuss over. To use the words of Caesar (from History of the World Part I), "Nice. Nice. Not thrilling . . . but nice."

Which actually got me thinking about the entymology of the word "meme". I found that at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meme. It kinda gave me a little infomation overload, but I got the point.

Anyway, I'm gonna have to agree with the 'Dog, I'm married, I live out in the sticks, miles away from any of my coworkers, I have a deadend call center job (which makes 'Dog's deadend job sound way cool), and I tend to march to my own little drummer. All of which makes me think, "hunh?"

Damn, I am such a dork.

But that may not be a bad thing.

From Corndog

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	High
Level 2 (Lustful)	High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Low
Level 7 (Violent)	Very High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Moderate
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Low

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Can This Week Be Over, Yet?!

I've had a headache all day.

I had to adjust my hours to be here an hour later for a training class.
Said class was cancelled two hours in, because we had calls coming out the ass.
We had calls coming out the ass not just because of the training class, but because others were pulled out of our department to another department that had no calls on hold because of contractual agreements.

The Hubby is sick. He's going to the doctor tomorrow. But even if he wasn't, it wouldn't matter a damn that I'm grumpy, and headachy, and tired to the bone.

I've run out of my antidepressant, but by the time I get home, the pharmacy will be closed. Yeah, that one is my own damn fault.

This is directed at noone in particular, and if I offend, I'm sorry:

KISS MY GODDAMN, FUCKING ASS!!

I'M TIRED! I WANT TO GO HOME!

My Own Meme

Or... The Meme Stops Here.

I don't have an IPod, I used all my extra money on (and in) the house. I don't even have a car CD player. I have a cheap-ass Kia I'll be paying for for another 2 years. So I can't do the IPod shuffle. As to the books I'm currently reading, that's almost as embarrassing: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban and Dan Brown's Angels and Demons.

So I'm starting my own meme.

I've decided, being smack in the middle of the oil patch, you actually need 3 cars:
The utility car - there's always a time you need to carry stuff.
The fun car - fun to drive, that is.
And the high gas mileage car - for obvious reasons.

My three:
the utility car - the Dodge Magnum - it has to be black, with dark, tinted windows. Can Chrysler design cars, or what?!

The fun car, '05 Mustang GT - also black.

The high gas mileage car - I'm kind of torn. My head says it should be like a Honda Hybrid, my heart says a Volkswagen New Beetle - diesel. You know, they're making diesel out of waste vegetable oil now.

Crazy, busy day at work today. But I don't want to talk about it.

Instead, I have slept in MY OWN HOUSE, in MY OWN (new) BED for the past 2 days!!! The bed is a platform bed, has 6 drawers on either side - KING SIZE (with room for me, the Hubby and the 2 dogs!), and is a pillow-top (my first ever) - it's just like sleeping on a cloud! And the ceiling fan puts out a nice breeze and kind of drowns out the barking dogs next door. It's like a dream. The Hubby built a small porch and steps for the sidedoor yesterday, using mostly wood from our old front porch. It's not dug in or anything, since they haven't put on the skirting, yet. Yeah, it's slightly wobbly. I don't care. For it being made by someone not real good with wood, it's fantastic!

I saw the therapist for the second time Wednesday. He has questions about my first depression (from 3rd grade until I was around 21 or so). Questions I can't answer. I know I was spanked in 3rd grade for not finishing my work. He questions why that sent me into such a tail spin. I don't know. It's all blocked, I only remember it 3rd person. He wants me to remember, since it's affected my entire life. It does kind of make me wonder why I did put so much power into my 3rd grade teacher's hands. I could only give him a confused look and shrug my shoulders. Why did it crush me? Why was I so sure in my self-hatred? Why was my childhood implosion SO great, it practically left a crater in Del City Elementary? And why do I let it linger today? Weird!

I'm really down today. I really need to write, but the words just aren't coming. My self-esteem is in the basement, more like sub-basement.

One incident: Yesterday, Jimmy comes dragging in a 6:30AM. "Where've you been?!" I ask. He says he slept in his car. He said after he finished at work (he had to close at his McJob), he took someone home. And, most likely, yakked for a while also. He said when he got to the M-in-L's the door was locked. I know it was locked because I unlocked it at 6AM to take Cooter and Bubba out to potty. Well, when the Hubby got up, he declared Jimmy lying because he said he was up at 2AM and Jimmy wasn't home yet. I believe my son, and I stick up for him. The M-in-L snaps (at me) something about it being a school night (true) and he should be at home. I went on to work.

When did I stop being a parent? Why can't I believe in my own son? And, for God's sake, he's a SENIOR! He has just over a month of school left! I, for one - I guess the only one, am going to cut him some slack.

I feel horribly alone.

A Little Down Today

I realized I've been at the M-in-L's for a month now. All I need is electricity for the house to be liveable - stairs, natural gas and phone can wait. This is SOOOOO dragging me down!

The Hubby says the electrician is an idiot, he put the new pole beside the side door, where we'll eventually have a deck (someday). He's supposed to move it tomorrow.

Made some tweaks in my homework letter - but I'm declaring it done. I'm going to try to drop it off before I go to work tomorrow - hopefully someone's there at 7:00 AM. If not I'll just have to drop it in the mail.

I Got My Homework Done

My assignment was from my son's AP English teacher. They had been studying Shakespeare's Hamlet. I was to write a letter of advice, like Polonius to Laertes. So here's mine. Tell me what you think, and if I need to add anything. Oh, and it's kind of long.

Dear Jimmy,
This is supposed to be a letter of advice, culled from my 45 years of wisdom.
Yeah, it ain't really coming.
I guess I could go by my mother's advice to me: Laugh with them (yes, the right advice, but easy to say, hard to do). Stand up straight (It makes you look thinner). Suck in you gut (see above).and after my divorce: You'll never get a man keeping house the way you do. (ha, ha - fooled her!)

This is the advice I got from one of my favorite bloggers, Jo Fish at Democratic Veteran (a veteran of the Navy): You son sounds like a great kid! Recruiters are guys looking to do their job, so discount about 1/2 of what they say as salesmanship and go from there. The "Nuclear" Navy is a great place to be for someone like your son. Perhaps the only other place where he might be as intellectually challenged is in the pure engineering programs or as a doctor, both of which require (obviously) more than a HS diploma. The men and women who are involved in the NucPower program are very good at what they do, and receive some of the best training in the world to do it, after all, when was the last time you heard of a Navy Reactor having a problem (it makes a difference when you have to live 'next' to it, I think). If he has any interest at all in becoming an officer, there are programs that allow enlisted men to go to either the Naval Academy or ROTC if they are qualified and motivated to to that; and they want to make the committment to the Navy by staying in. That's always another path...however, don't ever believe a recruiter who says that's automatic, it's not...sailors work very hard to get one of those choices presented to them. In short, if he's interested and motivated to do the Nuclear Power program, I'd say "go for it", the pay is a little better, the advancements are a little faster and the work is "real world". Hope that helps, let me know what happens...and thanks for being a DV reader! Jo And the advice Polonius gives to Laertes is pretty kick ass: Neither a borrower or a lender be...and: To thine own self be true...It's kick ass because it is so true, so rock steady after, what, 500 years? If you're going to be a lender, don't expect to get anything you've lent back without a struggle. And about borrowing, you really can't get around it, but you can be in control, it stead of it controlling you. If you're buying something major, like a house or a car, I think the official percentages are 40%/20% - a mortgage on a house can be no more than 40% of your take home pay, for a car, 20%. And for credit cards, (and this is pretty much do as I say, not as I do) the best way to handle them is as a short term loan and pay off the balance every month - you normally get a month's grace period before finance charges hit. If you get to a point where you can't pay the balance every month, just be sure to pay more than the minimum payment. Never be late with a payment (know from experience), the charges are horrendous (like $25 a day late fee plus interest!), but if you know you're going to be late call them and tell them, they can make arrangements for you.

And Here are some other's advice:

To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; to leave the world a little better; whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is the meaning of success."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

If
-Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about youAre losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream -- and not make dreams your master;
If you can think -- and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and DisasterAnd treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spokenTwisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings -- nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run --
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Man, my son!


Teach your Children

You who are on the road
Must have a code that you can live by
And so become yourself
Because the past is just a good bye.

Teach your children well,
Their father's hell did slowly go by,
And feed them on your dreams
The one they picks, the one you'll know by.

Don't you ever ask them why, if they told you, you will cry,
So just look at them and sigh and know they love you.

And you, of tender years,
Can't know the fears that your elders grew by,
And so please help them with your youth
They seek the truth before they can die.

Teach your parents well,
Their children's hell will slowly go by,
And feed them on your dreams
The one they picks, the one you'll know by.
Don't you ever ask them why, if they told you, you will cry,
So just look at them and sigh and know they love you.

-Crosby, Stills and Nash

I really don't have that much to add. Just remember, sex is okay - unwanted babies and disease aren't. I'm a big believer in parenthood being planned - children should be wanted before conception. Try not to jump into relationships, and don't stay if it's not working and only causing heartache. Abuse (by you or to you) can never be tolerated, and can be emotional as well as physical, or sexual (yeah, I know, "Yuck! I don't want to talk about it!).
Since I've spent about half my life depressed, I guess I know a thing or two about it. Depression is an illness. My psychiatrist compared it to diabetes. He said, in diabetes, the Pituitary Gland (I think), doesn't produce enough insulin, so patients take insulin to make enough in the body to lower blood sugar. In depression, the brain isn't producing enough endorphins, but there is no drug that can tell your brain to make more. What there is, what I take, are called SSRIs - Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors. After the brain makes the endorphin, Serotonin, and uses it, it normally absorbs (Reuptake) it. So the drug stops that reuptake, which means there's more in the brain. And there are other drugs that work on other endorphins. One problem is that not everybody responds to just Drug Therapy (like me), they (like me) need a combination of Talk and Drug Therapies. With any mental illness, it's not going to go away if you ignore it, you can't shake it off like a cold, and you can't just "handle" it - it handles you. The strongest person is the one who seeks help when they need it, and help will always be there. But you have to ask for it first, and that's hard.
And, in conclusion, as much as I worry about everything it seems, I never worried about you. As much as others told me about "your problems" or "what I should do", I never listened. You're a great kid, I have been unbelievably blessed and I don't really know why. Just remember, Life isn't like a box of chocolates, Life is an adventure, not always fun, or always easy, but always an adventure.

What Goes Around, Comes Around

or...

God Save Me From Guys With Depression.

The Hubby has been crashing the last few days. Lots of reasons/excuses as for why: His Mother, Me, Stress of getting the new house together, his illness. He's worthless, he says. I rebut. I tell him he needs to go to the doctor. Yeah, that goes over well. At lunch, he was almost in tears when he was telling me, "I can handle it." So Not!

On one hand, it really pisses me off that it's okay for me to seek help, but not him. Does that make me some spineless jellyfish that can't survive on it's own?! Again - So Not!

On the other hand, seeing him this way breaks my heart. Both as the one who loves him and as the one who knows deep depression first hand.

Is it a GUY THING? Because I just don't get it. I don't give a rat's ass that he doesn't have money. I don't give a rat's ass about his arthritis - yes, it's debilitating, but it's not who you are. It's not a sign of weakness to seek help, it's more of a strength to realize you need help. It takes courage to walk in and bare your naked soul.

To me he's a big, giant HUNK, but he just doesn't see it that way.

AAARRRGGGHHH!!

Back to Work

I am back to work today. When I first got here, I was out of my mind with anxiety. It has gradually eased - I did get hugs all around from those who noticed I was gone.

I really miss my group - but I had reached a point that, if I had stayed, it would only serve as a crutch. I had a little dip on the weekend, but am firmly on my plateau right now.

House-wise - the house is together and anchored, the interior finished, the carpet laid to where you'd never guess it was ever in two pieces. We still have to have the electric, gas, water and septic hooked up, and the skirting put on (in the future we plan to brick it). It doesn't have any phone jacks installed, but that can wait until we're in the house. We've heard that having phone jacks installed either costs nothing (since we already have service), or costs 100.00 per jack installed. It's just beautiful, nestled in the native blackjack oak trees! And we'll have a bunch of new furniture to put in it - we bought a new entertainment center yesterday! And it does kind of sit right on, well what used to be my u-shaped driveway (one side has eroded away to the point of needing 4-wheel drive to get out). And the grass that didn't have stickers is gone. And I'm in debt for the next 20 years (starting today). But what the hell - I deserve it.

Kid-wise - I got a letter from school stating Jimmy had Saturday School (their version of detention) this Saturday for an unauthorized absence last Wednesday. I asked Jimmy what class he missed - "a couple". And yes, I realize I stepped into this one - I asked, "Are you taking drugs?" "Of Course," he answers. His sense of humor is so dry I just couldn't tell whether he was telling the truth, or being wildly sarcastic. I'm going with sarcastic.

The M-in-L is still the M-in-L - her house, her rules. Still riding the Hubby, within my earshot, about me keeping the new house clean, but not confronting me. I'll be out of her house by the end of the week, God willing. Her house, her rules...Her house, her rules...Her house, her rules - my mantra.

I've Reached a Plateau

I don't really have anything new to add. Maybe when I have time to sit and really think about it. I have one more session Friday, and then start back to work on Monday.

But I have reached a point where I am not unhappy, but according to my psychiatrist, that is not my goal. Just existing is not a life. My goal is to be happy. Right now, to me, that seems really far away.

But, right now, I'm still here. And I'm going to be here for a long, long time. And I'm going to work toward happiness.

I'm Still Here

And here's how it goes:

Monday, March 20, I got 2hours 45 minutes of low call (using vacation time!). I then went to the head of my department to tell her my depression was kicking my ass. She basically said we'd talk about it tomorrow. I then went ahead and called my doctor (the really cute Jesse Ray), I was going to make an appointment for my next day off, Thursday. The receptionist said, "Let's see if we have any cancellations." They did - at 3:30 that day.

I think I kind of freaked out the really cute Jesse Ray - He said I'm going to go to this place tomorrow morning to be evaluated and never mind about your work, I'll take care of that.

The place is Integris Mental Health's Decisions day therapy. It's a program that goes all day, lectures, group, and a wrap up at the end of the day. I see a psychiatrist 3 times a week. I've been going to it for around 2 weeks now. I see a difference, but I have a ways to go.

Since I'm not at work right now, I can't blog as often as I would like. I do want to say a big THANK YOU to everyone!! That you care means alot to me. I will be back, hopefully better than ever!!

Mental Health Alert Status

Is at Yellow.

That's below red, right?

Oh, That's What That Smell Was

I called the Hubby at lunch (is this day EVER going to end?!), the Stepson and him are attacking Jimmy's room ("don't throw away any books!" my only demand). They found a dead squirell in his closet. I'm glad I'm at work.

It hasn't been there a long, long time (as I informed the Hubby). We did look for it when the smell first arose (ha! arose! ha!), but since we couldn't find what was causing it, we assumed it was either under the house, or a passing skunk.

I don't really understand how it could stay there - I have dogs who would think they're in heaven if presented some dead thing - and happily roll in it. It's the ultimate chew toy.

Thank God I won't have to worry about rotting floors anymore. I never considered anything but our cats coming up through the hole in the bathroom floor.

I Scared Myself This Weekend

I mean my weekend, Thursday and Friday. And I really don't know how to explain it. I'm not that great a writer, and I don't really understand why anybody would want to read about me.

I know I've mentioned this before, I don't explode - I implode. As you know, my old house has been moved - and will ultimately become my stepsons, and we are all living at the M-in-L's until the new house is up and ready. Hindsight being 20/20: I could have saved myself a lot of trouble if I stayed in a hotel. Now, mind you, I'm not saying this is the way it is - it's my perception (colored by my depression) It's been pretty much hell on me (again - my perception). I'm not a girly-girl. I'm not good at cooking, cleaning or any of the sterotypical woman stuff. And I'm the moron of the family - and have absolutely no status with the stepson. So the stepson, who's in an all-fired hurry to move in, and his friends started cleaning. This is Monday. I work, and have an approximately 90 mile round trip commute. I'm tired when I get home. They're not good excuses, but they're mine. Anyway, the Hubby told me to see if they needed help and to oversee what they're doing. The first thing that went wrong was some stuff in the fridge I had declared trash (old yogurt, old bottles of -----), the Hubby asked the M-in-L if it was still good. Then the stepson said they didn't need help, and since they are (technically) adults decided they didn't need a babysitter. I was wrong. They ended up declaring just about everything trash - and I had to dig around in the pit the Hubby had dug to get things out. I lost a lot of my knitting magazines that had slipped of the futon in the move. (I felt like) Everything was my fault. The Hubby would be SO much better off without me (I told myself). There was just no reason for living. So when everyone else was getting dinner - I went to my car and got my Springfield XD Subcompact 9mm out of the little safe in the trunk. I crossed the hay field. I crossed the field where the late F-in-L had planned to put a new pond. I went to the little wooded area beyond. It had an ancient pond, the old dam busted, but the pond not quite dry. I sat on a mossy rock. I put the gun to my head. It just fit so perfectly.

But I was unable to put my finger on the trigger, even though I was screaming at myself to do it. It just seemed so messy. So, I went back to the house, feeling like a failure. The M-in-L griped at me because I didn't feel like eating. I told the Hubby a day or two later.

Right now, I don't know where my Springfield is. That's a good thing right now. The problem is, that was actually my plan B. It just presented itself first.

And that's where we are. I'm not suicidal right now. I'm thinking I ought to go to the doctor, even though the antidepressants on the formulary suck. And while I don't like myself much, I don't hate myself right now, either.

And...

I'm still here.

Just Too funny

Home-Schoolers Hold National Basketball Tournament In OKC

Says Tyler Heath:

Tyler Heath, who plays for a team from Midland-Odessa, Texas, said he is learning a lot by watching his peers.
"(We're) getting to play against people better than (us) and seeing what they are doing ... seeing how we can improve our game," Heath said.

You can get the same thing, every day, without leaving your city, county, state, whatever - by just being in a public school! Meet new people! Different colors! Different religions! Different views! It's called life - real people, real situations. You can't hide your head in your little Stepford (original movie - not the remake) universe. At some point in time, you're going to butt your head into the rest of us - the great unwashed.

Oh, and to whether I've accepted Jesus as my saviour - maybe yes, maybe no. It's none of your damn business.

Oh, and I already know there's lots of reasons for homeschooling (see my third grade below). Get off my ass!

The old hovel got moved yesterday while I was at work. The cats got put in the carrier we bought for Bubba, so they weren't happy, but they were ok.

And I'm crashing, but that's not new.

Breaking News

I called the Hubby like I usually do at lunch. He says our bassetts, Bubba and Cooter are missing at the M-in-L's! He's frantic. I'm like 45 miles away (at least) and can't help him. I just hope they're wandering around the M-in-L's 40 acres and ignoring the Hubby's cries.

They're kinda good at that.

UPDATE: Cooter's returned, but not Bubba (yet).

UPDATE2: Bubba came back sometime between my last break and when I got to the M-in-L's house.

Brown Sheep News

We closed on the house Thursday. I'm in a goodly bit of debt for the next 20 years.

There was a little bit of exitement regarding the moving of the hovel. There's some official form you have to get from the county. To get said form you have to provide: the title, where it's being moved to, in whose name it's going, and the current years taxes. Pretty cut and dried.

Except, I never got a title. Being the brown sheep of the family (i.e., not good enough to be white, not bad enough to be black), my Dad cosigned for the hovel - this being just before Mama's stroke. Then we had problems. No, I'm not making excuses for it. Jesus God, as depressed as I am, I couldn't begin to put a positive spin on it. Let's just say, right now I don't feel like a complete WHB (worthless human being). Let's let the past be the past.

I end up having to call my sister, to see what was going on (Mama put her on their account way before her stroke). Turns out, it was supposed to be repossessed, but they didn't do it, my sister says, because it didn't look like it was worth anything.

Me and the Hubby don't really understand that. It looks perfectly fine (well except for the skirting, but that's not a part of the house) on the outside. It's the inside that's falling apart. Odd.

Back to the present, we're pitching a fit because it doesn't look like we can move the hovel for the nice, new house. I called the mobile home place and they suggested we move it to the side for now and go on with the new house. OK. We call the trucker to suggest that, and the Hubby tells him that if he had his druthers, he would hook the house up to the John Deere and move it to the M-in-L's down country roads. "You can do that?" the trucker asked. Yeah, the hubby tells him there's only the one major road to cross and one corner that may be tight. "Oh, I can do that."

Cool. Dodged a bullet there. Now the front and back porch is gone (thanks to my stepson, his friends and beer), with just a few cinder blocks for stairs. Now we have to move all the trash, leaves and such that accumulated under the porch in the last 10 years.

The hovel gets moved Monday. The guy putting in the concrete runners can't come until the end of the week, and it takes, roughly, 5 days to dry (weather permitting). So the earliest the house will be delivered will be the end of next week. We'll be staying at the M-in-L's until it's ready.

Kinda Sad Today...

One funny thing happened this week. My son, who, yes, joined the Navy, evidently is not cutting his hair until he reports. So right now, he looks like a Beatle. I like it, the Hubby doesn't. Now his McJob has rules about hair, rules that Jimmy and his Beatle hair have gone way beyond. They haven't said anything to him, well, that he's told me about. I suspect their view is, "Hey, he works. Who gives a flip about his hair?"
Well, I went there to get food, because I hate to cook and the Hubby wasn't feeling good. I didn't see Jimmy. Most of the kids there I recognize, even though I don't know them. There was this one kid I didn't recognize, had a teeny pony tail sticking out of their hat. Yeah, it was Jimmy. I smiled, I laughed and he gave me dirty looks. I have since gotten a hand-me-down camera phone, so I mistakenly told him I ought to take a picture. He said, "You don't...Oh you do! Get away!" After that, he was never close enough to get a picture. Darn.

I guess I can't blog about work anymore. Not that I ever did a whole lot of it. I may not like my job, but I need it. Darn.

And yeah, I'm feeling a little sad today. Yeah, I should probably be on an antidepressant. but I've been on all that's on my formulary. Maybe I should go back on the one that works that's on the formulary and say the hell with a sex drive. Part of me thinks I deserve to be happy, that I'm a worthwhile person. Part of me just doesn't think I matter a damn.

Oh well, life goes on.

This Is Where I Butt In

From the Chicago Tribune:

6-year-old suspended after mother refuses to spank him for numerous disciplinary infractions; instead she yanks him from school

This gets personal for me.

I started out loving school. I adored my first or second grade teacher. My third grade, if I figured it out right, was the '67/'68 school year, my world went straight to hell.

You have to bear with me, I don't remember it first person. When Mama would tell it, and I imagine her memory was alive and vivid, it would always start by her trying to tell my third grade teacher how best to teach me. She got the "are YOU a teacher?" speech.

One day, I came home crying. Mama was still at work, and this was when Grandma was living with us. I had been spanked for not finishing my work. I don't think it was just once, but I just don't remember. I told Grandma what happened, and I guess, Mama, when she got home. I have never seen my Mother so angry, either before or afterwards. An anger that would never die. The anger you see when you come between a polar bear and her cub. So, yeah, she kind of ripped the principal and the teacher ( I think her name was Mrs. Dickenson) a new one.

It effected the rest of my life. It caused my first depression. It would last until I was around 20/21. I got fat. I went way beyond just being shy. School for me was over. I wasn't stupid enough to drop out, but it was kinda like being in prison. I don't think I did a lick of homework ever again. I would fake stomache aches every now and then to get out of school (God knows how Mama knew it was real when I got appendicitis).

I can still tick off everything that went through my child's mind.

• Even though Mama constantly told me how good I was, or pretty or whatever - I didn't believe a word of it. Parents are supposed to say things like that.
• I adored and envied my sister. She was prettier than me, smarter than me, thinner than me, outgoing. I just plain wanted to be her. I tried to be her, and did a piss poor job of it.
• I just didn't fit in with anybody in my family, or extended family (except for Grandma). Mama, Daddy, and my sister all had brown eyes, I have green. They were thin and I was fat (Daddy didn't count on this one). They were smart and I was dumb. They were talkative and I was shy.

I felt like a big disappointment.
I knew my parents did everything in their power to try to make me happy. Did they do too much? Did they make my life too safe? Well, in the scheme of things, probably. But I don't think they felt like they had a choice.

Oh, and about Grandma, she was the ONE person I could be myself with, and being myself was ok.

I Don't Feel Right

The hubby says I want something to be wrong. I have to say that's partially true. I've gained around 40 pounds in one year, when I've been pretty steady the 10 years we've been together. I used to be able to walk all day, now I'm wiped out after a little bit - and really achy afterwards. Maybe it is that I'm just fat and don't exercize enough. But, I feel, something changed in the last year.

Let's see, I changed to and after a while stopped taking, Zoloft (big waste of time). My hours changed from evening shift (me and the hubby used to do some running around before work) to morning shift (I come home and sit, wiped out). I'm not going back to an evening shift. Let's just say, when I shift bid, it's more for which supervisor I want, than hours. Besides, the dog usually wants up (and out) at 5:00 am anyway.

It just seems odd to me. Not necessarily that something's wrong, but NOT RIGHT.

It's Easy!! All You Do Is...

You show your driver's liscense at the gate, and you're IN LIKE FLINT!

Or...maybe not.

fishbowlDC's quest for a day pass.

Via Atrios.

UPDATE: Strike Two.

Damn! I'm Good!

Shamelessly copying from Corndoggerel:

From The Gematriculator:


I think it's being generous, but, hey, it's the expert!

The Hubby's Bad Day

Yesterday just started out wrong. I was going to put cooter out to potty (because he doesn't run away like Bubba). And there was Cheyenne (the wolf hybrid - see November archive). Cooter yelps and runs away down the hall, Bubba starts his horn-dawg whine. I shut the door quickly. She had snapped her cable. I woke Randy up and put Cheyenne on the leash and brought her in the house. Then I went to Wally-World to buy a new cable. Of course, they only had one type - for dogs under 70lbs. Yay. Well, it'll be a stop gap measure, I told myself. Got her hooked up, everything good, I went to work (stopping to vote along the way).

On my first break, the Hubby told me he had to have Heidi (our 10 year + Sheppard mix, aka the smart one) put to sleep. Heart worms and congestive heart failure. She had been declining fast the past few weeks, so I knew it was inevitable. She was a good dog; a mean puppy; and smart as a whip. When she was almost a year old, the Hubby had to have his galbladder removed. While we were in the hospital, John, the Hubby's dad, taught her some tricks: Sit up and shake she did for free, roll over, round and round, down and crawl she only did for treats. She will be missed.

And remember, this was just by my first break.

I should have called during my lunch, but I went to Wendy's instead. It didn't occur to me anything else could go wrong. It did.

The Hubby called me at around 1:30. He was in so much pain, he said, he could hardly move. He sounded like he was at death's door. Cheyenne had gotten loose again and attacked the neighbor's dog. COME HOME. That was easier said than done, but I was able to leave (making today - being my Friday - extra long).

When I got home I learned that Cheyenne had followed Max, the neighbors dog back home. Their 3-year old openned the door. Luckily, that scared her, and she ran home. That time she broke the loop on her collar, so the Hubby attached the cable directly to the collar. The Hubby said he almost killed her then and there. What were we going to do? We've been trying to give her away since Rogue was killed. She doesn't understand what she's doing. She's just protecting her area. Well you can probably see where this is going, we had her put down. I just don't understand. She's not viscious, but that said, she's attacked a dog, our cat Artie, and killed Rogue. But she loved Bubba, and us. Oh, we are, of course paying Max's vet bills, it's only fair.

We went from 4 dogs to 2 dogs in one day. The Hubby's calling himself a murderer.

Can we just stick to Dachshunds, Bassetts, and small-to-medium Heinz 57's?

Am I Embarassed!

The 3/4 cent sales tax in Logan County passed. You can read the blurb here (registration - yuck - required). But let me save you the trouble. It passed 3131 (59.5%) to 2134 (40.5%). My guess is they won the surronding cities in Logan County (Crescent, Mulhall, Coyle and Langston) and lost Guthrie. Guthrie's moaning about lost sales because the tax would be too high just fell on deaf ears. Like I've said, most locals, except for some less mobile retirees, shop in OKC or Stillwater. And they should have decided the sales tax was too high at least a penny ago.

I guess this means I have to get my pizzas, and hamburgers in the city, also, before I get home.

It better be some really woopee-wow jail.

I Voted

Today's the day! The 3/4 cent sales tax referendum. I'd call it ill-conceived, but my husband disagrees. He thinks the County Commissioners are planning for this to go down in flames. That way they can say they did all they could, but, gosh darn it, they have to raise property taxes now.

Plausible.

I voted against anyway.

For Those Who Care

I heard from Marine's Girl. I found an email address in her profile, found by finding a comment she left in a past Daily Kos posting (found by googling "Marines Girl"). I wrote her to see if she was ok.

I'm not going to post her reply, unless she says it's ok. I don't think she meant for her blog to be lost, but it's ok with her since her Marine is home.

Just take care, ok?

And You Thought I was Kidding

Gamecock boxing plan derailed

Maureen Dowd Rocks!

Read this column and you'll see why.

Digby Does It Again!

Another awesome post: "The Resentment Tribe"! It ought to be manditory reading for everyone in the nation.

Anybody Hear from Marine's Girl?

I haven't been able to bring up her blog, Across the River.

I have a gripe...

With last night's CSI. Why doesn't Rude Twerp wake up and if not push off Big Lady, and least bang on her to get her to wake up? They said he didn't die immediately, he had time to wake up and say, "hey chick! You're choking me! Get your fat ass off!". Can somebody answer me in a way that won't piss me off.

Oh, and I'm NOT THAT BIG.

Closing on the House

As early as next week!!! The delivery and setup guy has already called! he wants to scope out the water and sewer and utility stuff!! now we just have to get someone to move the hovel over to my M-in-L's property for my stepson Jason. This is so fantastic!!

The only bad thing I can see is that we'll have to use the old decrepit furniture first. We're getting to the end of our oil money. Wow! was it nice not having to worry for a while.

I've got it right, now.

I did the shift trade correctly this time. So it's Friday and I'm at work. Yes, that means I'm working 6 days in a row, but I'm just so damn nice.

The Logan County 3/4 cent sales tax vote is next Tuesday, March 1. I can't see it as having a hope in hell of passing. The poop from my M-in-L, who works at our bank, is that if (when) it doesn't pass, the county commissioners are going to raise the property tax.

Again, the county jail (in the basement of the courthouse), which is, like, a hundred years old, is a decrepit mess, but has been so for at least 40 years, and they've known it would have to be replaced for a good 20. Why they didn't do it when the oil was flowing (up to the early '80s)? And the town of Guthrie is just as culpable. Now they're all worried about losing business. Locals, except for the least mobile of retirees, don't shop in Guthrie anyway, they go to Stillwater, or the city. Jesus Christ, somebody needs to pull their heads out of their ass!

I'm of Two Minds

On one hand, I need to spew all of self-hatred. I need to get it out of my system.

On the other, I'm afraid I'll scare off my reader(s).

No, I don't want to kill myself (well, right now - it would leave too many open wounds). So, why can't I just drop dead, like a heart attack, or something like that? Something natural. No stigma.

The Call Center Center of the Universe

AKA Oklahoma City - well, not so much anymore, really. It just seems like it. I was feeling slightly better than yesterday this morning. Until I got monitored. Then it was major anxiety.

For those not familiar with call center lingo, being monitored means someone, usually a supervisor, listens to a random call and scores it for certain criteria.

Let me tell ya, my anxiety alarms went off big - heart pounding, face flushed, pain in the neck and arms. I knew I was going to lose everything, job, car, house, life itself. Everything is up to me. Scary.

The teeny, tiny logical part of my brain tells me my fears are unfounded. I just wish the rest of me believes that.

I Hate Sundays!

Maybe more than I hate myself.

This is a normal Sunday, we go over to the M-in-L's house, and read the paper, and eat breakfast.
I don't know, maybe I'm just waaaay to sensitive (ya think?!), but it seems like the M-in-L goes out of her way to make me feel inferior. I mention (or it was mentioned) that I need to exercise but don't have time - "Well I make time in the morning, I ride my exercise bike every day!" And the snarky comment that runs through my head is, "it only takes you 5 minutes to get to work, too! I have a 50 minute commute. So in the morning I have time to get up, get showered, get dressed, maybe eat a little and go to work. And I'm certainly not walking around my neighborhood without packing a gun!" No, I didn't say any of that. Then they rag on Jimmy. Yes, I'm his mother. Yes, I'm too forgiving, but I take it personally when they go off on him.
And because all this is starting to eat at me, I decide to leave early. I leave one equal packet on the table, and that starts it all again. So, properly shamed, I put the packet back in the equal box and leave.
I had forgotten to get a lunch at home (I've been in a soupy mood), so I went back home to get a can of soup and a pop. So I wasn't way, way early to work today.

Then I get to work and it's busy (they don't have enough people on the phones early in the morning). And almost everything they call about could wait until Monday. And it will get busy again when the early morning people leave.

I've kind of decided sensitive people shouldn't be in Customer Service. Sometimes I can let it go, sometimes I can't.

On the "I should be happy" side, we're getting our house. At an affordable price, too. We financed through the company, so the interest rate is a little high, but we were told yes right off, and the land isn't held as collateral. Now I feel I'm under the gun, anything from here on (well, from when the new house is delivered and set up), housework-wise is my fault.

I should be happy, but all I want to do is crawl into a box and @#*.

Can We Stop Being the Laughingstock of the Nation Now?!

From channeloklahoma.com:

OKLAHOMA CITY -- Tattoo artists were one step closer Thursday to setting up legal shops in Oklahoma.
A House committee approved a bill Wednesday that would legalize tattooing. Oklahoma is the only state in the nation to outlaw tattoos.
The measure now goes to the full House for a vote.

Don't tell me. I know the answer.

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.