Wanderlust Wednesday

A day to reflect on where I’ve been and want to return. What I want to show Will, since he’s flown over most of it. I got to show him a fraction when we drove North to Oregon and the Avenue of the Giants. It was so awesome.

Next, I have so show him stuff like this:

Untitled-b65 And, sadly, some of my pictures are scanned from negatives and this is the effect.

It kinda sucks, but why I need to show Will and take new pictures. This is a West Cost trek I did in 1995 with my ex Kevin. And since my tagged photos are on my old hard drive and ALL were in individual floders with the trip name –  this was save to Dropbox. But, Will and I have plans to explore. Yay!

I think this is Umpqua Lighthouse. I’m probably wrong.

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This is Scotia? Oregon? It could be the Columbia Gorge? I know it’s 1995. At least that came over in Dropbox. But when I see this, my wanderlust comes forth and wants to Be.

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Redwoods forest in Norther California, by Crescent City? Lots of ferns up there. It is beautiful. I wish Will and I had more time. Untitled-49

And here’s my proof it was 1995. Fen as a puppy. He was so cute and sweet and precious. He was still smaller than Andy is now as a full-grown dog. Here, Fen is about 10 lbs of puppy fluff and small paws. He would be 75 lbs fully grown and his paws were the size of my fists. He still thought he was a lap dog. I miss my cuddly, live teddy bear. Untitled-b16 We were a happy pack. The elkies didn’t travel with us regrettably.  I wish I had taken my camera when Heidi and I were wandering. What we saw!

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Kevin in front of the Montero. Oh, the places we went!  This is definitely Northern California with the mystery of Bigfoot. Redwood Country.

But speaking of wondrous sites – this is from a trip to Yosemite….

Yosemite and Railroad Museum May 15th and 16th 2004 003

And this is what I love to record. May 2004.

Or this one from the same trip. My ode to Ansel Adams.

Yosemite and Railroad Museum May 15th and 16th 2004 025 edited The Tunnel View. Ansel is an inspiration for me.

Well, this was a wandering post. I didn’t want anything heavy today. Just a nice post for January 2nd. Whatever WordPress says.

Happy New Year everyone!

Tuesday Testimonials

Day Three of days with purpose typing. It reminds a little of what I am doing on YouTube – A Day in My Life Daily Vlog (under vylinghart@gmail.com – I might be able to name it soon since I’m regularly adding video, guess what I’ll name it? Hehe).

I have a hope to build a small media empire (sure) to be able to bring light to the homeless situation here in Alameda County, Tri-Valley Area, the East Bay of the San Francisco Regional Area, since all people hear is San Francisco which is pretty much a world away for most here in the Tri-Valley Area without a Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) ticket.

This will grow and change. This is my plea and my cause. And God’s plan for me, whether you believe in that or not, but I do.

So, for today, I will give a testimonial, though some of you have more than likely thought “haven’t you DONE that consistently”? To a degree.

I have always been a person who wanted to be “clean”. Groomed. Bathed. Hair styled and makeup subtle. Contact lenses on and glasses put away since they are an obstruction on my face and I don’t see as well. Or breathe easily. Thank God they don’t use glass anymore, but polycarbonate. Remember the phrase “Coke bottle glasses”? How thick the glass bottoms were on a bottle of Coke? That would be me!And those polycarbonate lenses coatings fail, they scratch, and the lenses become cloudy. And there is nothing you can do when the coating starts to fail. My “current” predicament. I’ve worn my contact lenses 2 days this month, since I had access to bathroom and could wash my hands and be sanitary.

Speaking of 2 days, I have taken a shower twice this month. When I showered on CHristmas Eve, I hadn’t showered in over 2 weeks, 3 for Will. The last time was when went to Del Valle Regional Park and used the showers in the campground. It was more than two weeks for both of us at that point.

Being at our very adult age, being denied the human need of bathing is so difficult. We could have gone to the church who offers it once a week or 3 days a week, but we had appointments with doctors or therapists, and we have to camp out for hours or loose our spots. As with everything being homeless, hurry up and wait. What else do have to do? Indeed.

There is much about homelessness that is hurry up and wait, which is interesting when there are few places you can go. There is the McDonald’s on P Street, or the library. I choose Starbucks due to the WIFI and tea. But, when I first became homeless, I didn’t know where I could go. There is no checklist for “If you’re homeless in Livermore”. We’ve got the Labs (Lawrence Livermore) here, so there is money. Hell, Martha Stewart has been here. We are not an island in a vast wasteland.

Though, it does cause you to contemplate (often) how did I come to this situation. Will and I have the same issue – loyalty to the family name and family pride. Will was Dorothy’s Grand Champion, her knight in shining armour. He did his mother proud! Caring for her for over 10 years and not expecting anything – and that’s the problem. He expected nothing, but his brother destroyed any sense of truth or valuing family when Gary had him removed as his mother’s executor, and HE probably stole the copy of the trust that Will had at the house (Since Gary and Colleen treated Dorothy’s house as their property entering any time they wanted). Will valued family. Gary does not, especially his brother who is an obstacle to everything, supposedly.

I valued family. What little I had that Gun hadn’t destroyed all sense of. I just remember Dad asking me to take care of her if anything happened to him. She would outlive him, he knew. Well, she made sure of that! And I did, because I promised Dad. She was like a poison to my soul, but I wouldn’t let Dad down, even after death. Did she appreciate my “sacrifice”? Ah, hell no! She complained that I lived in her house. She complained that I had clothes of mine in her closet. She complained that my Diabetic diet intruded on her “groceries” and caused her fridge to “smell” (fresh produce smells like fruits and vegetables, not moldy trash). When I cooked dinner for us, she complained about the smell and the stove being on (could cause a fire, afterall) and complained about the dishes that had to be washed (which I did since the dishwasher was “broken” due to lack of use and rubber dying out). Because eating one of two frozen dinners was so healthy? She was malnourished and trying to get her to eat produce was so difficult, unless it was in a frozen dinner or a can with high fructose corn syrup.

Dorothy wanted to eat a Swiffer. Gunn wanted to eat anything that wasn’t freshly made. Dorothy didn’t try to kill Will. She adored her oldest boy. I had loved Gunn, as one does the mother-figure in her life, but I didn’t like or trust her. I had decades of reasons why not to. And after her death, I learned of the extent of her machinations of separating Dad from his family. Regardless of your personal reasons for disliking your in-laws, to not notify his family that he is dead is so fundamentally wrong on so many levels. Did you hate his ex-wife so much, and their son, that you couldn’t see past that you homewrecker? Even after 43 years?

Hindsight is 20/20, and Gunn had so may tells. So much makes sense now that I know the missing details. The truth shall set you free, and that sentiment should be engraved on her headstone. It set her free, set me free, and can alleviate Dad’s soul of so much grief and loss that can never be corrected. I am absolved of guilt, much to her chagrin.

What I still can’t understand is why her family thinks I’m lying. Spoilt child not getting her way (Fuck up Freddy. Your Dad was a shit, treated your mother like shit, and my Dad defended her. DEFENDED HER. Get that through your head, but the apple doesn’t fall far from THAT tree, does it?). This is what I do not understand, other than intense denial for something they never saw with their own eyes. She was their older sister. Always putting on airs, being better than everyone else, living a Hollywood lifestyle and forgetting her Norwegian Farming and Christian roots. Forgetting all the morality taught to her by her parents. Claiming to be Born Again, when she never picked up a bible, listened to a sermon, went to Church other than on Christmas, or practiced Christian Kindness ever! The woman they thought she was never existed in MY lifetime. She lied to them for decades, and they heard nothing else. Saw nothing else.

To bring this full circle, Gunn is the one who gave me the personal expectations that I live by. How my clothes could never be dusty, or – God forbid – muddy. Why dogs were never allowed in the house, due to their being so filthy. Having to “dress” to get the mail, go to the grocery store, or do gardening. She never left the house without mascara. How critical she was over my weight, my marriage, my reading, my knitting, my needlework, my lack of children. All intentionally done to provoke her! To put her in a bad light. Newsflash, battleax, it ain’t your life! If she were alive today and she knew it had been more than 2 days since I had bathed, she would be livid! A personal embarrassment her. Wouldn’t matter the cause, just that her tender delicacies would be bruised.

Lack of bathing, sleeping in a car, not doing laundry for a month, so many no-no’s. What choice have I had? Not a plethora.

Medical Minutiae Monday

Hey. It’s a title. And a focused target for writing.

I could start a Head to Toe description of issues, and I will highlight the most difficult that I have to deal with – physically,mentally and emotionally – on a minute-by-minute basis.

Brain – TBI and stroke (Vascular Lacunar Infarcts). Cognitive and emotional difficulties, most needing further diagnosis or treatment. Speech and cognitive therapy to recommence Spring 2020, but only until I run out through Medicare. I’ll have to wait for 2021 for any more. Severe anxiety and taking a few meds for it.

Eyes – Vision is crap. Contact lenses too old, glasses older, and all in bad shape. Unable to get new prescription due to retinopathy, as I need a surgical procedure to stop the aneurysms and wait 3-6 months for vision to stabilize. I am legally blind when not wearing glasses and have been since I first was prescribed at 11. Corneas too steep and I have astigmatism.

Throat – Have issues swallowing due to the stroke. Have to turn my head to the right to strengthen my throat muscles to swallow normally. Coughing is still an issue. Even clearing my throat.

Thyroid – It’s naturally “big”. Had an ultrasound. I think there is an issue, because if it tests “Normal” and it’s 20% larger than anyone else’s, wouldn’t that “normal” be “low” for me? Need to speak with a specialist.

Stomach – Pernicious Anemia so I don’t absorb B12 through my stomach. Have to inject cyanocobalamin weekly. I developed 2 ulcers, which can happen. At high risk for stomach cancer. What else don’t I absorb? Take paroxetine daily.

Kidneys/Liver/Pancreas – Diabetes, weekly injection of Januvia, take Jardiance and Janumet daily. And atorvastatin and lisinopril.

Back – Well, shoulders, neck and spinal column due to several car accidents where I sustained whiplash. Did almost everything to both shoulders except dislocate them – which would have been better. Permanent nerve and tendon damage. And oh the scar tissue! 32nd anniversary coming up in March.

Hands/Wrists – Carpal Tunnel. ‘Nuff said.

Bladder/Bowels – the guaranteed side effect of a Vascular Lacunar Stroke is incontinence, aka overactive bladder (and underactive pooper). I now have a pill so I know ahead of time, but I don’t always make it to the bathroom. A long walk from the car into the grocery store may require fresh bottoms.

Left Knee – Wonky since 6th grade. “She’s young! The ACL will repair itself!” Says the nitwit at Kaiser. No they don’t and age doesn’t matter. It’s worse now as my left side was impacted by the stroke. I have fallen. Especially when leaning up against the car to pee at 2 am in Walmart’s parking lot.

Ankles – Sprained dozens of times and they have both been fractured twice. Use special inserts – when I have them, which I don’t right now. Will develop ankle fractures from the bones stretching – and that hurts like hell. I have “boots” for when I do this. It’s happened too, since first diagnosed in 2000 and wore a boot with my wedding dress. So chic! And my shoes suck, are old and thoroughly worn,but new shoes would be $120, the free ones at the church have made the supination worse and I need slip on shoes for when I need to change bottoms or just a diaper.

Legs/Feet – I have issues with electrical shocks in both legs and severe muscle cramping in my toes and feet since the stroke. Take Neurontin.

I take more medication than listed for various things, and this list isn’t complete because there is too much, diagnosed, identified or still identifying. And what I didn’t list is the fact the brain goes to chaos mode more often. Worries about money, worries about the car, worries about Will, worries about sleeping in the car, worries about the storage units, worries about the cold, worries about Andy’s food/sweaters/walkies/baths, worries about laundry and doing/storing/accessing it, worries about having enough gas, worries about getting a balanced diet and giving up on that, worries about having something to drink when taking my pills (and it not being laced with Vodka), worries over the noise coming from the rear wheel well, worries about the seat backs and their failure……worry,worry, nothing but worry.

Help alleviate some of it please?

Soul Moment

I thought I should try an ongoing-theme-day. Doing Soul reflections/moments, seemed like a good one.

 Heidi and I Spring 1990

This picture was taken in early summer 1990 in Lake Elsinore and I am holding my 6 month old fur baby Heidi. My furry shadow. She was with me through 2 husbands, my father’s death, years of travel and aching loss. We saw the Sunset from the Northern Rim of the Grand Canyon while exploring the Southwest, and we experienced snow in Idaho. For 16 years, she was my quiet companion. Often, my copilot in the Montero.

Heidi in Idaho

My little wolf. She was an amazing soul. She went through so much training and she was so friendly and accomodating. She would have been a wonderful Service Dog. She sensed my moods, knew and protected me when I had migraines, or just put our other dog – Fen – in his place when he was being a noisy boy. And she was trained in track, trail and search. We did search and rescue a few times in North Orange County and Heidi found children easily enough. Adults, not as quickly. You told her to “find the baby”, gave her the scent and she was off like a rocket! When I moved to NorCal, she had been with Dad for a year before I could come and get her. No more trail or rescue for her.

Cuddling 1200

Heidi was as much Dad’s as my dog. He named her – with the name Gunn had intended for me! LOL Good one, Dad! Dad was Grandpa, Gravy Man (he made special gravy for her kibble since she was a very finicky eater), and Mr. Walkies. This was the last Christmas he was able to come to our house and he loved having Heidi close. The next winter, She (Gunn) had “convinced” him that he didn’t need blood thinners with a pacemaker and he wasn’t taking them by Thanksgiving and by Christmas he was throwing mini blood clots that led to multiple strokes and Congestive Heart Failure by New Years and his death by March.

We came and were with Dad for his last Christmas. I spoke to him on the 22nd, 2001, Gunn’s birthday, and we were in Las Vega having a family get together with Kevin’s Family. Cut that short and headed home to NorCal to get the dogs and headed to SoCal and their house. Gunn was paranoid about the dogs ruining her house. Well, Heidi had been an indoor dog when Gunn wasn’t around or when I moved her to NorCal – and she NEVER pee’d in a house. Gunn had area rugs all over the place she had bought at Walmart – no doubt with Dad in tow and suffering. Dad’s cardiologist had an absolute fit when he found out and had Dad’s Primary Care Doctor forced into Retirement due to his Alzheimer’s while treating patients.

But, Heidi did bring Dad comfort and serenity being there with him. I wish I had brought her again to be with him before he died. But Gunn. She flatly refused to accept he was dying due to her “care”. Why his cardiologist said there was no action we could take against his Primary Care doctor. I didn’t put two and two together until after I had had my stroke, and realized my infarcts wouldn’t have started if she hadn’t thrown out “that junk I was taking everyday” because she knew more than a doctor?! That bullshit about her being a registered nurse was annoying, but not life threatening. I thought.

Narcissist+Sociopath+Dementia=People Will Die That Don’t “Listen” To Her.

I wish I had had Heidi when I had my stroke. I wish I had brought Heidi to comfort Dad when he had his. Fuck Gunn and her stupid rules. I have these wonderful memories of and with Heidi and what she DID for others.

My beautiful girl. I still miss you,furry shadow. I’ll see you someday on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge. Be a good girl for Dad, kick Fen’s butt and be nice to your predecessors. Rocky, Bonnie, Shasta and Trapper all like to run and sniff and do the stuff you would like to do. You’ll be in good company. Warning – Bonnia cracks a beer every once in a while. That is, if Dad can get Coors. She was Dad’s BBQing buddy before you.

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The Sun is Receding

I have a lot of time to think when my brain isn’t in chaos or Will is rattling on about cars or RV’s or what his brother has done to him. The usual noise pollution. Just chillin’ at a Starbucks with a cup of tea. I had $2.35, so I could afford that. I get my Social Security in a few days. Let’s see how long it lasts this month. Hopefully, longer than 10 days.

At least my storage units are up to date this month. Don’t have to worry about that, and I was able to wrap my head around how we could reduce storage, pay less and have more room! It doesn’t hurt that the place I have 2 units now is cheaper than the other 2 places. I just have to work out how to move everything with Will’s bad back and my shelving in Brentwood Unit 1 with the shelving pegs in Brentwood Unit 2 or Livermore Unit 1. Is it any wonder why my brain defaults to chaos? Too much to keep track of while living in a car.

Enough of that. I need to word vomit my brain because it’s nauseous.

I consider myself a Follower of Christ, not a Christain. There is a difference. I don’t seek forgiveness for the sins of the week with Sunday cleansings. Hypocritical Sunday Christians drive me bonkers. Especially those twisted f’ers that think Gay’s have a master plan to destroy the Church.   The only reason they are Gay is to destroy the church. It’s a choice. Anyone who thinks that or that Gay can be prayed away needs deep psychological counseling. Like the Vice President, who calls his wife Mother.

Ever heard of that thing about God making us in His image? Was there an exclusion? You don’t ignore children born with Down Syndrome or Spina Bifida? Claim they chose that life? Being Gay isn’t an illness, neither is it a choice and you can’t pray away who you are. What I know of, what has happened to others, the commentary, the abuse, the torture, the pain they NEVER asked for. They just want to live their life and have NOTHING to do with yours, so why be so nosey and get up in their grille about their “lifestyle”.

News flash – it isn’t a lifestyle, it is their actual LIFE. Quit being such a busy body and find another “cause” you can bitch about. And if the word FAGGOT or DYKE or CUNT is in your vocabulary, read a book and expand your brain asshat. Why be a Baby Trump when we can’t stand the Old Man (so old and fat and gross). Living in Livermore, we run into Trumpers and other racists, discriminators, supremacist lovers often. Old white men set tables out with info in front of the post office. Vote for Trump! Thanks but no thanks. My family suffered at the hands of the 3rd Reich. I don’t want to see the fully realized 4th Reich in my lifetime.

Enough about Christians. Why is there a theme of giving at Christmas? Why is there a theme of helping at a Chruch when proselytizing is what happens too often? The two are connected, as evidenced these past few weeks. First, let me say that we truly appreciate the kindness shown by church members and individuals that saw our need and gave. The cookies were very nice. Toothbrushes and toothpaste are much-needed items. Cup of Soup is welcomed and very useable. Hotel snags like shampoo and conditioner – not so much. We see dozens of these wherever we go for warm food or outreach.

You know what we didn’t see much of this season? Gift cards. To Subway or McDonalds or Starbucks.  Safeway Fuel Cards. They have no cash value. We can’t buy booze or cigarettes with them anyway. And so what if we bought a pack of smokes. A bottle of beer. How dare we use your hard-earned money for such useless comfort items? Because we are homeless. We can’t buy anything warm with EBT, or alcohol or cigarettes. Hell, you can’t but incontinence pads with EBT, or shampoo or soap. Just food – but nothing hot in Califonia. They can in Arizona. Will is supposed to get $40 more per month since he is homeless. Does he? Do I? No.

My face hurt so much this morning due to the cold and sleeping in the car. We’re both sick now. I slept with my coat on and tried to cover my face with the blanket, but breathing through my mouth made it too uncomfortable to continue. Thanks to Donna McKenzie, Will and I were able to get coats last week. We have her to thank for the room at Christmas. Sleeping in the car is so dehumanizing! I hate staying in a motel room and the cost that it takes, but it is so much better than a car. Especially when you’ve got a cooktop and a fridge! It’s like living like royalty!

You can’t get a place to live for 2 adult people in their 50’s for less than $2000 in this area – and that $2000 is more than likely for a ROOM. There are no apartments that are affordable without all our money going.  $2000 in rent would leave us with $200 from Will’s General Assistance and his food stamps for the month. That $2000 better include utilities, because there would be none leftover after the cell bill and car insurance was paid. And forget about driving anywhere. We would have to ration where we drove so we filled up the tank just once a month. No money saved for oil changes or repairs or even windshield wipers.

We have talked to all available resources regarding housing. Disabled people aren’t top of the list. I’m disabled with a brain injury and I am severely struggling to survive living in my car. Will has to have surgery and needs further diagnosis so he has some quality of life. He could get a job, but he can’t with a bad back.  I see why he was an alcoholic. If I had the money and no responsibilities, if I just didn’t care anymore and had accepted that living wasn’t worth it anymore, I would drink myself to death too.

Because of the post-stroke emotional incontinence, I cry every day because I have no other outlet. If you don’t get it, I HATE THIS LIFE AND LIVING LIKE THIS. I’d rather eat Chicken McNuggets than burnt vegetables, cheap hot dogs too small for regular buns, sauerkraut (yes, they served sauerkraut at the food kitchen *shudder*) and a fruit blend with underripe melon which gave me the runs last night – in 40F weather with no close bathroom other than Safeway.

Friday’s and Sunday’s have Safe Parking at the worst location – the old City Council Chambers next to the Police Station and you need the Security Guards to escort you into the Restroom. Hopefully, I won’t fill my drawers while going through that keeping a smile on my face and not showing frustration at the Guards. It’s not their fault. Just the City of Livermore who will not dedicate a space for the homeless – like the Old City Council Chambers – for a Winter Warming Shelter with cots.

Leave the homeless outside roaming the city, sleeping in front of the closed OSH store, or a bus bench, or in the Creek that floods multiple times every winter. Let the Church’s and Donna McKenzie deal with the homeless. It’s their “mission” anyway, God’s children and that nonsense. Let the homeless, that take advantage of the Homeless Refuge, sleep on yoga mats on the floor. And if you’re disabled and can’t get up of the floor – or even be able to lay down on the floor – make the best of it and tough it out. Hopefully, a Watcher will realize you have mobility issues and doesn’t yell at you at 6am to hurry and get up! You need to be out by 7am because the church neighbors don’t want your kind loitering in their neighborhood. And the Warming Reuge has sufficient watchers WHO VOLUNTEER because otherwise they are closed.  At least Donna has sleeping bags and pillows THAT ARE DONATED. Livermore pays for shit. This parking program IS helpful, but those with motor homes can’t participate. There are not many who have cars or want to do through the approval process.

We think San Francisco is bad – welcome to wonderful Livermore in the East Bay! We’ve got a plan to eliminate the homeless issue!

No they don’t. They’ve seen this getting worse for years and choose to tackle a small ratio while complaining how so many come from elsewhere and settle here.  I could have stayed in Contra Costa and I would be dead now. I should have stayed there and not inconvenienced your fine city, or gone to San Francisco.

Hey, Livermore just had their first Pride Event this year. Not in June, of course, but they finally acknowledged that segment of the population.

If I had plenty of downtime with WIFI, I could write more coherently and not so angry. My life is falling apart and there is nothing I can do about it. For God’s sake, someone who can – help us!

What I Want For Christmas or Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda

My old life back? Pre-stroke?

Since I’m in a fantasy world today, I’ll keep to that theme. Bing Crosby is playing. It’s making me wistful and weepy.

I want Dad back and Gunn to have been out of our lives when I was 8. We could have left her with her family when we were in Norway in 1978 when Grandpa was still alive and Gunn hadn’t successfully ended Dad’s maritime career.  And I was happy and didn’t doubt anything. And the beatings hadn’t begun. And she wasn’t twisting my mind with sexuality and accusations and clippings from the newspaper to “warn” me of the evilness of men and how she went on with the lies of how she was my birth mother. No exact facts, just a caesarian scar. Not me, her daughter born 2 years before me and buried in Norway. Her cousin’s son didn’t know it was a huge family secret! Yeah, that tombstone was a shock. Gunn was lies. Dad was truth – to a point. He protected her and paid for it. I would do anything to just have a day with him again. 17 years feels like 17 minutes.

Going to college and staying there until I had a degree. Looking into it myself instead of thinking Dad would know. Even student loans. They made a choice to not acclimate – ever. I was American. They were Norwegian, though Dad did get his Citizenship because he wanted to vote since he paid taxes. And voting with him and understanding politics and government was interesting for both of us. He had someone to talk to because such things BORED Ms. Pris. Such nonsense interrupted Jeopardy, or worse General Hospital. Realizing education was more important than a Scandinavian Husband, that an education would release me from her vice-like grasp, was the prize.

Marrying Antoine was a huge mistake. Period. Chris was right.  I was a neophyte, impressionable, naive. Stupid. I paid for it; emotionally, financially, physically. 5 years of my life gone, 20 to 26. Poof! Then there was Kevin. Chris made him an offer – me on a platter – and I ended up marrying him because he was the OPPOSITE of Antoine.  Opposite that he had no confidence in himself. The Martyr by self-proclamation. A loser with no marketable skills. That I married. Who was the loser?

I wanted children. I had always hoped for three. Boys or girls, as long as I had one of each. Always a reason to wait….wait until we have a house….wait until we have saved up money…..he could be a stay-home Dad, no daycare needed! I’d be working 14 hours a day because that was my job and his job had no actual “importance” in that get a temp with basic accounting skills. C

I had skills. Recruiters called me too often. I hung in too long in several positions and gave my loyalty to some real scum bags. Missed some opportunities and didn’t jump when I should have. 6 figures was nice while it lasted. From Corporate Finance to Pre-Audit to Forensic Auditing to Real Estate to Mortage Lending, then the Big Short, back to Corporate Finance and Audit Lead and Project Finance Administration to Stroke. Helluva circle. I wish I had discovered Forensic Auditing earlier. I could have had a career with the FBI and been on the East Coast. A happy life, without the Emotional Vampire.

I took tests in High School. SAT of course, and the Armed Forces Aptitude Test. The Navy really wanted me and for Annapolis. My test results for Analytics and Logic was in the top 5% nationwide. They may have wanted me for the Trident Sub Project. I would have been there during Tailhook, but Gunn torpedoed it all by telling the recruiter I wasn’t mentally stable. She was a “nurse” and it had been so heartbreaking. Dad wasn’t there when the recruiters were “interviewing”. She made sure of that. He was furious when he found out. I could have followed in his footsteps.

She always had it her exact way, regardless of anyone else’s feelings. Narcissist much?

That IQ test I took during Junior High. Good thing she was smart, but she shouldn’t think she was smarter than the adults. And wouldn’t that make it more difficult for her to find a husband if she had unrealistic expectations? Those meetings with Mensa? Whatever that was. A bunch of old men who just wanted her for sex or to take advantage of her. She doesn’t know. She’s an innocent and we will keep her that way. A pure virgin when she finds the right (acceptable) man. That IQ business means nothing.

All paperwork disappeared. Like everything else Gunn didn’t like or find agreeable.

My IQ is near genius level. They never brought it up to any instructor’s that I know of. Dad was friendly with my Principal and helped “school” my HS Geometry teacher and narced me out to Dad more than I liked, but I caused my own issues with keeping off the Honor Roll by planned percentages.

I enjoyed that too much. I was hanging on out with the Stoner campus, playing strip poker and not losing an article of clothing during Drama while “running lines”, hell skipping class to run to Naugles for breakfast (teacher never knew), being teachers’ pet, tutoring Math to Junior High students while a Senior, dealing with Gunn’s accusations of my supposed sexual promiscuity, having her “smell” me when I’d returned from being out with friends (3 boys and 2 girls – including my neighbor) to see if I smelled like sex. One thing is for sure, she couldn’t smell alcohol worth a damn. Chris and  I would drink MGD and she didn’t smell that. Was I smoking the marijuana?! Chris smokes, so therefore I must smoke, including marijuana. Yeah, I smoked. I didn’t smoke pot until I was 46 and discovered “candies”. Oh, it made dealing with Gunn so mellow. Hehe. Never got the munchies, but horny was a different matter and I was hanging with Jason who liked boys too. My Gays.

One thing that still burns like an endless flame – my beloved Husband Kevin who had an issue peeing and finally went to the doctor and, as I told him to, took the doctor into the bathroom to show how slowly he pee’d. Months, several procedures and finally surgery, he can ejaculate sperm! That path had been blocked for his entire Adult Life due to an accident with a girl’s bicycle as a child, that he never took the time to completely explain – or obviously show – to a urologist. This was “fixed” when he was 42. I was a year older. We could try to have a child.

I was too old. What about adoption? (And here it comes)

You never can tell what you’re going to get. The mother could have been a crack addict. The kid could have developmental issues. It’s not a good idea. It’s too much of a burden,

Good thing Gunn and Aksel didn’t think I was going to have problems since I was adopted – rejected by my birth parents – and I would be a burden. He used burden. In a few brief sentences, he made my justification for living as a child an inconsequential anomaly that should be avoided.  And I didn’t want to try anymore with the looser without marketable skills. Nam myoho renge kyo MF.  20 years with you was an absolute waste. Your family was cool. Wish I was still married to them. I am sorry Sharon. I tried, but it wasn’t mine to fix or simply acknowledge. I constantly acknowledged it. I should have stopped after a year or two and moved on and found happiness with someone more mature and secure in who he was.  I kept hoping. I was his wife, not his therapist. Or his mother.

Well, this was a stream of consciousness, i.e. word vomit.  Sorry. I obviously have anger management issues I  have to still deal with. So much abject disappointment in my life. It isn’t unique. I do realize that. But it is special because of how and how much and by who it was done. And now I have Will who tells me to stop letting those people rent space in my brain.

Too old and an adopted baby is a burden. My last big wish was incinerated and he was clueless.

I should have gotten pregnant without telling Kevin, that was what I should have done Chris? And since Kevin was shooting blanks, should I have gotten a different “donor”? Cheat to obtain the prize and lie to the child about his father. That’s fucked up dude, even for you. Yet, I’m the bad guy. No. I never was. You should have never said what you did. Never. It still burns my soul.

Impeachment? Really! Meh.

Purely politics for this one.

You should know, if you haven’t guessed, I am not a Trump supporter. Never was and never will be. He’s made man, and I don’t mean successful. I’ve worked for a Union. Capiche?

I have no idea how this country became so apathetic, so wholly uninterested in morality, justice and doing right by your fellow man/woman. Following the Constitution. You know, that ancient piece of paper – HANDWRITTEN BY OLD GUYS – that we reference when we are emphasizing our free speech rights, or our Right to have a Weapon of War – I mean firearm. Don’t tread on me!

There are two Articles for Impeaching Trump:

1. Abuse of Power

2. Obstruction of Congress

Noting having to do with the “witch hunt” that Trump whines about continuously. Nothing having to do with Mueller, the FBI, or Russian Collusion. Just Trump and his mouth. And multiple experts who were questioned UNDER OATH and were seasoned professionals of the State Department. I won’t bore you with that. They were on TV for hours! But, you may have missed Rudy. He was on Fox last night and his gums were flapping. Again. At least it wasn’t Noun-Verb-9/11.

Why wasn’t he on the Hill fighting for the NYPD and NYFD survivors, instead of Jon Stewart? Hmm? Who really cares. Barely Congress and not the White House.

So Rudy went to Ukraine and tried to get dirt on a Biden so the 2020 elections will have a constant narrative, sorta like 2016. No help from Russia, but Ukraine has their own Russian problems, like Crimea and access to their lands. But I digress. Rudy was bitching about some State Department Chick or Ambassador or something and that she had to go because “we” couldn’t get Ukraine to launch that investigation etc. Um, wasn’t that what the House was investigating over that whistleblower? That person that Trump called a traitor and wanted exposed. (So his “people” could take care of that problem – ’cause that’s what a made man and does in “his business” – I’m not from New York, but I wasn’t born in the lap of luxury either.) He claimed Executive Privilege and NO White House People were Made Available. Not ever Trump.

There you have Article 1 and 2 in a quick synapsis. Rudy is his “personal” attorney, not a government employee in any capacity, or in other words he is not getting a Government Paycheck for jet setting on behalf of Trump. Or is he? He is representing the United States to a foreign country as what? Trump’s dog? Go fetch a scandal, Rudy? Good boy! Here’s a cookie, or a chicken leg. Between Trump and Rudy,  the House just wanted to verify what people in the room witnessed. Rudy just added ingredients to the mix while the House was busy baking their own cake.

In Rudy’s own words, “we’re guilty and we’re gonna win” because the people of the US don’t care what Trump does unless they’re Democrats and we don’t care about them. Our Republican Brothers will save the day! Just listen to Comrade McConnell or Herr Gaetz. De vil not vote for Impeachment on our Man! Heil Drumf!!

And I ask because I am a neophyte, and a Democrat more than likely, is ignoring the Constitution, your oath to protect it and our Nation, to remember we are still trying to maintain the small d democracy, and be a Superpower that other Nations look up to and want to emulate. That shining city on the hill and all that. Or is the Republican party just trying treason on to see if that coat fits and how much they can accomplish destroying all the classes of people they can’t stand, or even tolerate when running? Like making the good ol’ USA as white as Norway? I’m using a Trump quote for context. He loves the Norwegian People. As a Scandanavian, I can speak to the whiteness of Norwegians. It is a white Country, especially in Winter and with their food. If White means bland, and that only under certain conditions, like my adopted mother’s cooking skills.When it was edible. Other than winter, it is a rocky, green and coastal country with wonderful people from many lands originally who have come to this Land of high peaks and bottomless fjords to live, work and play with generous work/life ideals, school programs adapted to the student through college for legal residents, government medical that covers their residents for little to no costs from cradle to grave (including in-home care the Baby Boomers here taking care of their parents with Alzheimer’s), maternity leave for 1 year AFTER the child is born, and Government assistance to help the parents the first year, so forth and so on. At least that’s how it was when I lived there in 1985. And they would send my Aunt to Greece every winter because she had rheumatoid arthritis. They sent her to a warm Country for a month! What a concept. It’s changed from what I hear. They’re not teaching Bible Study in every school anymore. Something about religious freedom or inclusion or something.

What it comes down to – Trump asked the Ukrainians to investigate Hunter Biden and find something they could pin on him to embarrass his Dad and screw up his run for the Presidency, making Trump’s run a Red Carpet event in November 2020. Pocahontas won’t run….she’s a woman. Hillary tried and look what happened. Bootigig……he’s gay. We’re God-fearing folk and his base won’t vote for a fairy. Kamala…..she’s dropped out, thank God. She could have been an issue, but no more. Corey…..Obama 2.0 he’s not. He doesn’t even eat meat! What kind of freak is he? Bernie. Old. He already punched the clock, so how much longer does he really have? Two rich guys, and we’re pretty much done with that type. One owns publishing and one guy used to own oil stuff, but what have they done otherwise? I’m homeless. I would pay attention if they had done anything that was important to my life NOW. I emailed both campaigns. I get emails back thanking me for the support and can I donate money.  Great assumption on your auto-response’s part, but I am not “backing” either nor will I donate money. In fact, I don’t give a rat’s posterior if you are running. Both of you look like Trump now, just no known grifting or philanthropy shenanigans.

Republicans, stand by the oath of YOUR office and the post you accepted as part of running for the Senate of the United States of America – not the United Soviet Socialist Republic, even though Putin’s trying to bring that back. Why help him. Again.

HRW Lord Andy

That’s right. His Royal Woofiness has a Facebook Page and an Instagram account.  And Gmail! I’m trying something new and not so much a whining crybaby. And it’s Andy, or Lord Andy as he was named by our friend Matt. I added the HRW because I’m a goof and it’ll be fun.

And, in Andy’s words, RaaRoooo!!

https://www.facebook.com/LordAndyHRW

https://www.instagram.com/hrwlordandy

lordandyhrw@gmail.com

 

A Day in the Life

I could be poetic, but that’s hard to do now. I am grateful to My Maker for keeping me alive and sustaining my hope for a return to a normal life. Someday, somehow.

But if my life were “normal” these are the things I miss. Some may be familiar to you.

Waking up in a Bed

There is something about waking up in a bed, with sheets. Pillows. Blankets. Sleeping flat or snuggled next to your little pup or your partner. Waking up and stretching under the covers, warm and safe.

I remember those days. I’m sleeping in the passenger seat of a ’98 Olds Cutlass and the leather seats are going. And my tailbone hurts 24/7 because I wear adult diapers at 54. The “side effect” of a vascular lacunar stroke.

Eating at a Table with Real Food

Eating almost every  meal in the car – it sucks! Food ends up in your lap, or on your top, or on your pants (that’s Will).  I miss soup. A simple bowl of soup! And real utensils, not a spork. Whoever made that thing should be made to eat everything with it the rest of his life! Have you ever tried to eat sliced beef with A Spork? How about sliced turkey with gravy, stuffing and mashed potatoes with a spork? In a paper clam-shell that’s disintegrating in your hands? And since it’s the only warm food you’ve had today, and it’s not breaking 60F and raining, you asked for two servings. That little clam-shell is heavy! And you are holding it and it’s not sitting on anything, because you’re eating in the car because you can’t take the noise or the questions or the general polite conversation in the eating hall.

A Shower

It has been over a week since I took a shower. It’s been two weeks for Will because he gave up his spot last week so I could take a shower. He is so good to me. And the shower we will use is considered a handicap shower at the Church that offers it for use M-W, 12-5. There are many who take advantage, and there are other regular showers. The Handicap has a seat in the shower and space for privacy, or space to fall and not die if you’re unstable. The mat they put down hurts my feet, but otherwise the floor is slippery.

And I don’t have shower shoes.One more thing to keep track of.

You know when you get ready to take a shower? You turn on the water so it’ll be the right temperature when you get in. The water cascades over you, warming your cold bones and muscles. Perhaps easing that ache in your lower back that just won’t stop. Warming your cold feet and hands. Cleansing your face and body. You soap up your scrunchie, or washcloth, and scrub your neck and arms and legs until they squeak.  And, if so inclined, shave the bits that shouldn’t have hair.

You grab the shampoo and pour it into your hand, applying it to your hair and luxuriating in the suds encasing your head. You massage thoroughly and you may rinse and repeat before doing the conditioner. Letting the warn water pour over you, rinsing your hair and you shake your head and wring the water out and decide to let it warm you a bit longer.

I remember those days. Now I have to wait for my turn, if I get it, and the plumbing isn’t great and you go from a hot shower, to a cold shower, to a lukewarm shower, to cold again to hot. It’s like living in an old house and your husband flushed the toilet (it happened – more than once).

A Kitchen

You ever have a feeling that you’re kinda hungry, but you have no idea what to have and you don’t want to cook a big meal – or you have a hankering for leftovers from last night?

What about just toasting a slice of that Whole Grain bread you bought at Whole Foods the other day. With some cream cheese and honey on top? How decadent.

What about that bit of rib eye you didn’t finish the other night? Slice that up and add some salt – that would hit the spot.

What about that can of  Tomato Soup Progresso you found in the back of the pantry the other day? That would be  delicious with a grilled cheese sandwich. More work than you wanted, but Tomato Soup and Grilled Cheese? Yum! Comfort food extraordinaire!

A Closet

You don’t really think about that too much. You take it for granted. Purses hung on over door hooks of nails throughout the closet. Shoe racks under the line of clothes – hung by season and color – from daily wear to evening wear. With tubs with lavender and cedar protecting your kint wear that it has taken decades to acquire or actually make, and not look homemade.

All the socks you’ve knit! There was a reason you were the sock queen! So pretty. So comfortable.

All those sweaters! How you miss the lavender one. It was so cozy and you got so many compliments.

“Where did you get that?”

“I Made it.”

“Ohhh. Nicely done! Wish I could do that!”

A Comfy Spot

You have a spot you like to nest in? The corner of the couch. An old comfy chair.  That spot your posterior has been working on for years? You know that spot. When it’s cold and raining and you have a chill, you wrap yourself in a cardigan, or favorite blanket, curl up and read a book, take put your knitting, get that piece your stitching, or the Sunday Times Cross-word. You know that spot? The one that you fall asleep in when you’re not feeling good?

I remember how my couch felt.It’s in storage, waiting for a new home and my posterior again. My comy nest, with my stitching stand and projects in on rollers and in wicker baskets. My knitting projects in their bags with the instructions and my “sock”  kit, ready to cast-on a new pair. Or my Cancer Cap bag, with yet another cancer cap in progress for the annual donation. The Red Scarf Project for Foster Kids that have aged out of the system. The Comfort Blankets or ARF, for the pups and kitties being adopted to hopefully their forever home. And all the other charity projects.

Watching TV from my corner, or reading a book to the end while Kevin watched TV. Rooting on the Vikings! Watching the Oscar’s or the Tony’s or the Emmy’s. Or the Simpson’s. Or the Superbowl. Or a rented video.

Streaming stuff from the computer. Yeah, I can set that up on HDMI. No Chrome Stick of Amazon Fire. Who wants you TV watching you? Creepy. Network with security and no hackers.

I miss technology. Sadly, it’s sitting in my storage unit with everything else.

Last but not least – the Toilet

You don’t think much about that, other than “where is it”. It’s down that hall, by the elevator, at the Taco place. It’s close by or you know where one is. And, hopefully, no waiting.

This past Thursday, I saw a Gyne-Urologist. I was tense, worked up, anxious. I have had too many doctor’s appointments where I was told it was all in my head.  I need to see a psychiatrist. I’m a hypochondriac.  I shouldn’t step out of my lane and assume I know more than a doctor.

Well, if you won’t diagnose me, what am I supposed to do when there is something actually wrong?

Dr. Frink kept me waiting – 3 1/2 months for the appointment and 1 hour and 15 minutes in the Exam Room, but she was worth it.

“So tell me why you’re here?”

“I had a Vascular Lacunar Stroke….”

“That incontinence is bothersome, isn’t it?”

She knows what one of the aftereffects is! I didn’t have to explain anything! This is the just the second time that has happened.

I’ve had this issue since my first lacunar infarct – or four years – and she has a solution. It won’t be easy or quick, but she has a solution. And I am thankful.

I have hope that I can stop wearing the adult diapers that have left my tailbone so sore due to the car and how I have to sit. I can wear Poise Pads again and normal pants, instead of sweats that make me look like I’ve dumped a load and walking around with it. And with the Overactive Bladder medication, I won’t be “leaking” while walking to the restroom at a local Starbucks of Safeway or Home Depot, as most 7-11’s have personnel that speak broken english and are from countries that women are seen as property, and don’t care if you need the restroom. “Go to the Gas Station across the street,”  as a staff member goes into the restroom made for the public, but requires a key.

And all those times I would walk to the restroom and I would start leaking, and end up crying when I would finally get to the stall, as my pants are wet, my shoes and socks are wet, and know I have to change so I don’t smell like urine. Get into the stall, take off my shoes, strip my pants and diaper, get out the Personal Wipes and clean up, put on another diaper, dry the sweats with the hand dryer or put on another pair of pants/sweats, new socks, wipe out the wet spot from slip on shoes (can’t do sneakers with the laces – too difficult), and make sure my bladder is empty before getting up and leaving.

And hope no one is waiting or banging on the door to hurry up. It happens at Starbucks I shit my drawers waiting for the restroom one time. The dude was on the phone. And laughing. I hear him as I was humiliated. No one should ever experience that circumstance. No one.

A toilet. No matter it’s age, as long as it flushes and is available, it is a welcomed entity in my life. I worry about having access to it constantly. I worry about an employee giving me grief over needing to use it. A basic need and it is embarrassing asking if you can use it and you’re told no. They don’t offer public restrooms. Then I use the disabled card and who will refuse that?

My Day in the Life. I could write more, but I think you can sense the difficulty for me and Will. We’ve lived in homes we owned. Had furniture and necessities that were useful and provided physical and mental comfort. I miss my books. The feel of them. The smell.  I miss knitting, which is so difficult to do in the car with everything else.

I took several hours today to write this because I needed to get it out of my soul It eats at me daily. Like thousands of Sugar Ants crawling around my brain looking for water and a way out.

My therapist Pam had a suggestion to ask my psychiatrist if BrainSpotting may be useful. They map the brain for how your process or react to specific actions. I need that, since I have physical reactions when I feel intimidated or cornered, and I wail and become extremely anxious. Pam also suggested I get a MedicAlert Bracelet since I am unable to talk when these episodes happen, and I don’t need to be 5150’d again because I can’t talk and they think I’m having a bad trip.

The “episodes” really upset Will and he finally understands it isn’t something  have and control over currently. The stoicism is gone. I feel stripped naked and on display. It is the most humiliating occurence that could happen to me, and it happens regularly.  Why I avoid people. I don’t want anyone to see the crazy freak I become and I hate it to the core of my soul.

Why do I share this? Because I can’t *speak* about it. But I can type. Exactly. My voice is still here, but when I type. No sound out of me. It is so slow and clunky and awkward. Nothing like I used to be. Maybe someday.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/life4wng20?teamInvite=zwFy5EWAGSludrnkCZ9nBW6TpHJfA8I5YvaDJ67Bhi8fNwXnHH6M2OYJcXZSgemz