"Sometimes the things we can't change end up changing us."

I had therapy yesterday and she pointed out to me that I never give myself any credit. I downplay everything because I think normal people do "life" on a regular basis, every day, like it's nothing. So what if I can do it for a day or a week or a month? Big whoop dee do.

There's been a lot of..... upheaval.... in my life recently.

I didn't get the job I truly thought I was going to get. I didn't realize how much I deep down thought it was mine. And to not get it for an incredibly stupid reason... *sigh*.  I've just accepted it. It is what it is. They made their decision and I have to move on. Because anything else would lead to resentment and anger and bitterness and, eventually, drinking. So, yah. Let that shit go.

My brother is living with me for who knows how long. All of you know, I would do anything for him. I love living with him. His dog, not so much, but it's easier because Ben is here to deal with him, too. He isn't all my responsibility. And yes, my house is now covered in cat AND dog fur (man, I need to get Garfield shaved!) and my house now smells like dog and my new furniture is covered in sheets because of dog.... but I can deal with all of that to help my brother. He's the only person on the planet for which I would move a dead body.

But.... it's an adjustment. It's easier than I thought it would be. And this is when my therapist would say, "you're not giving yourself enough credit... there have been times you wouldn't be handling this at all. Look at all you're doing". 

Eh. So what?

And lastly, my friend who I've spent so much time with over the past 6 months is sitting in jail awaiting sentencing. We texted each other all day every day. We spoke on the phone if we didn't see each other. We saw each other at least twice a week. We went junk store shopping, Walmart shopping, watched movies together, made meals, went fishing, etc, etc, etc.  And while he drove me nuts mostly all the damn time, there's now a gaping hole where he used to be. Again, I'm handling it just fine, probably because we had spent a lot of time together his last week and I was ready for a break.... which sounds horrible, I know. Who would welcome someone going to jail just so they could get a break from them, lol? Me, that's who. I'm a horrible person. If you haven't figured that out by now, I don't know who you think I am.

But.... it's an adjustment.

And I'm working on Step Four: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

Again.

It's been almost 7 years since I did my first Step Four and things appear clearer today than they did then. I'm much more open to listening to my sponsor, but realize I don't have to accept or agree or put into action anything she says.  She's wise beyond her years and most of what she says, I am in awe of, but there are still times when I'm like, "No, that's not true. No, that isn't right. No, I'm not like that."  AA-ers tend to lump everyone together. We are very similar, true. But we are not all the same.

My Step Four this go 'round is more difficult. It isn't about berating myself. That's easy to do. It's about looking at those things in me, in my life, that I want to change. And I realized what those big things were re-reading my journals awhile back. 

Change is fucking hard and scary. So I'm looking at me and my life and realizing the hurtful things I've done to people that I never realized were hurtful until now (think "sex conduct") and having to face an Amy I don't like to face. The real Amy. The Amy who is selfish and self-seeking and subconsciously trying to fill a void in her she doesn't even realize she has. This is the Amy who is stubborn and unforgiving and hurtful and who pushes people away who get too close to the real Amy. This is the Amy who hides who she is. This is the Amy full of bravado and false confidence.... who doesn't see her value or worth and doesn't respect herself enough. This is the Amy who has an acid tongue and lacks empathy and will cut you down to get her way. 

She's an ugly Amy.

But... it has to be done. Nothing is going to change unless I go through this process.  I don't want to be the same person next year that I am today. There's been enough.  Enough of that. It's time to let go of old patterns and begin new, healthy ones. I'm ready. Or,  at least, I tell myself I am. The process isn't pretty and a lot of people drink at Step Four because they judge themselves throughout.  I'm attempting not to judge. I'm attempting to deliberately and without persecution, openly look at my errors and let them go. Let that person go.

As my sponsor would say, there are two types of change: the butterfly and the snake. The butterfly changes abruptly and dramatically from a caterpillar to a beautiful butterfly. Dramatic. Like, an AA-er has this epiphany or spiritual awakening and is never the same again. 

A snake sheds its skin. It's the same snake, but when the layer of skin gets uncomfortable and tight, it sheds it.... And then it's slimy and raw in its fresh skin... and it's a continuous process.

That's me. I'm the snake. I'm not going to have a dramatic epiphany. I'm not suddenly overnight going to become a new and different person. It's going to be a long process that I will continually have to work at.... but it'll be worth it.

Right?

So, yes, there has been a lot going on over the past few weeks - some of it good, most of it bad - and yet, here I am, still functioning.  I credit Lamictal.  My therapist would chastise me for that.

Give me time. I'm a work in progress. 

"There's only so much insanity you can blame on a full moon. The rest is just everyday batshit crazy people being themselves."

Is it a full moon?  Or is it just a regular Tuesday and shit just happens?

Found out today the fun, funny, nice, normal attorney has resigned from the firm.  Pretty much effective immediately.

*sigh*

And then, as I was leaving work, I asked the receptionist if one of the other staff members who is awfully close to this particular attorney would also leave and her response was, "No, she's not leaving" to which I said, "Oh shit, but you are!"  And I was right.  So not only are we losing a fantastic (eye roll) attorney, I'm also losing one of the women I can tolerate on a daily basis.

It's like rats on a sinking ship.  Or the Titanic.  Or like Salem UMC not too long ago.

Is it me? Did I do something wrong?

I would be horrible as a child of divorce because no matter what the parents would tell me, I'd still blame myself.  Thank goodness that didn't happen because I'm fucked up enough as it is!

AND THEN....

My brother called and asked if I was free this weekend because he's had it with his neighbors and he's putting up a goddamn fence.  Apparently, he was outside in his yard trimming trees along his house and the psychotic, disgusting neighbor woman came roaring up in her truck and started going batshit crazy on him.

I said, "Did you just laugh at her?"  Because that's totally what I see him doing.  He said he just walked inside and was like, "What the hell just happened?"

So guess what? (We are very similar, he & I, because we're both so spiteful.)  He's calling the city tomorrow to get a permit and he's calling a tree guy to cut down HIS trees because fuck her...she doesn't deserve any of his shade.

I love my brother.

I told him I'm down with whatever he wants to do.  Let's rumble.  But take a deep breath, find your center and just laugh because crazy is everywhere.

*sigh*

I had just gotten myself worn out and calmed down after punching my bag and then my brother called and got me all worked up again.  I cannot go punch my bag anymore.  My arms won't even raise and either I've got a hernia or I pulled something in my groin or I damaged the post-surgery nip/tuck.  Guess I'll find out Friday at my 2 week check up.  *eye roll*  Only I could cause injury to myself during a workout, I swear.

On what you would think would be a good note, one of the other attorneys invited me to an employee appreciation luncheon today.  Granted, I was only invited because I'm the newbie and she does this for all the newbies, but still, I appreciate it.  A free lunch. Can't go wrong there, right?  Yeeeeeaaaaahhhhhh.  Other members had brought their appreciated staff with them and so when they were going around introducing the staff person they brought, they all said such wonderful glowing appreciative things about that person.  When it was my boss' turn, I got, "This is Amy Kruuuuuuger.  She's new. She answers the phones."

I swear, that was it.

But wait! That's not even the best part!!  Guess what the presentation was about?  EMPLOYEE APPRECIATION and how to do it.  I should have taken notes and passed them over to my boss as we left.
Jesus.  It's no wonder everyone's leaving.

"Lift up your head, princess. If not, the crown falls."

Yep, this is me.  The Princess and the Pea, but only in the sense that we both sleep on really, really high beds....

With the missing center supports & hardware!

Almost done....

It's got Garfield's approval!!

*sigh*

I cannot take another day like today, but let me tell you.  I'm proud of how I handled it and have got to give credit where credit's due - thank you, Hydroxizine, for getting me to a place of calm & happiness in my life....and for keeping me there when the shit really hits the fan.  

I made it to NFM by 1PM.  They had me get out of my car (with my huge-horrible-disgusting sore killing me!) and make sure they were giving me the right stuff.  Like I would know.  Then I went to Target to return something (at which time I felt oozing in my groin - FUN!) and to Kohl's to spend my $10.00 Kohl's cash, because, can't let that go to waste (where I stuck a Kleenex down my crotch to catch the disgusting ooze....fun times!)  There's nothing like trying to shop when you're really, really not in the mood.  I found a pair of capri's for 7.00.  Whoo hoo.  

I left there in the midst of swirling, blowing snow and drove like a fiend home.  I got home, had to grab the keys to the folks' house and grab something from there; then to the post office to pick up my new phone case....and by the time I got home and settled and ready to eat LUNCH (dinner, really) it was 4:00PM.  I Scotch-guarded the fabric bed, took the plastic off the boxspring and mattress to air them out, finished up the laundry (washing the new mattress pad) and then set to work trying to figure out the damn instructions so I wouldn't look like a total idiot when my brother got here to help me put it all together.  

I looked like an idiot anyway.  He did all the work.  Thank you, Dad, for my new drill which came in really handy!!!  Love that thing!

And now, I'm going to take a hot, relaxing bath to wash off the grossness that is me and jump into my new, awesome (I sure as hell hope it's awesome!) bed, which Garfield seems to have commandeered for herself.  Nice.  So glad I bought that for her.  

"I knew when I met you an adventure was going to happen." -A.A. Milne

All week, I've been waking up early. It's like going back to school after summer break. I have to get back into the groove of things. Waking up early isn't all that hard for me to do....it's staying awake all. day. long that's difficult. I haven't made it through one day, yet, nap-free. *SigH* I'm really going to miss naps. Maybe today's the day because.....

Dad's installing a new kitchen faucet for me. My water pressure in the kitchen has always been crap, but in the last 3 weeks, it's gotten significantly worse. I mean, if I have the hot water running and turn the cold water on, too, you'd think the water pressure would increase somewhat. Nope. Not mine. Stays the same...which is a little more than a trickle at this point.

Little brother who's becoming a plumber (crack included) has looked at everything and suggested trying a new faucet first to see if that fixes the problem. He said, "You can return a faucet...you can't return copper..." So we got a new faucet, which I am so totally excited about! My old faucet was a two-handle plain jane and with my reverse osmosis faucet on the sink, there was no room for the sprayer. Try rinsing a sink out without a sprayer and/or water pressure. You can't. That's why I have a cup in my dish-drainer...to rinse my sink.

But now! Oh my - now! We bought a faucet that is a sprayer!

Not installed...it's just resting there. 

But, you know, nothing's ever easy so I'll be quite amazed if Dad gets it installed. I haven't heard any cussing, yet, but I have heard a lot of grumbling and talking to himself. Now I know why Mom has selective hearing. 

I attended my last Wednesday morning AA meeting in CB today. I wasn't expecting to see Larry and he wasn't there....at first. He showed up towards the end of the meeting, being chauffeured by his wife & son, bearing doughnuts! It's hard to see such a big bear of a man who was healthy not-so-long ago, failing. He talks, but a person has a hard time understanding what he's saying because he slurs his words pretty bad. His equilibrium is way off so he fell down 6 stairs and landed on his face so he looks beat up. He can't drive, thus the chauffeurs, though he was bound and determined to build his grandchildren a treehouse so he stole his own truck, drove it up a hill to a tree and then it rolled back down the hill. It didn't deter him. Others had to wear him out and then carried him inside to bed. 

Update: I. AM. AMAZED! Good water pressure AND a sprayer! I'm in heaven! 

Installed! Beautiful!

OK, back to Larry. Today was probably the last time I'll see him before his funeral and we all know seeing someone at their funeral isn't properly "seeing" them. It's hard. It's sad. I'm a little bit scared. It all just sucks.

And speaking of sucks....nobody at the meeting feels like they have the right to bitch about any problem they have in their lives....and trust me, we've all got shit.  They all say, "Look at what Larry's going through. I have no right to complain..." So today I said to one of the guys who constantly says this, "I had someone tell me this when I was a teenager and I was saying the same thing...'Look at so&so; I have no right to bitch' and this person said to me, 'But this is your worst. Whatever you're going through, it's yours. It might be the worst thing you ever have to deal with. That's the worst thing they'll ever have to deal with. It's your shit.'" Basically, it's good to keep things in perspective, but don't think what you're going through is somehow less-than what someone else is going through. Trust me, I get how awful this is. It's horrible. It's unfair. It out-right sucks. And I feel for Larry and his whole family and extended AA family. It's going to hit all of us very, very hard. I can't imagine a world without Larry. 

When it got to my turn to speak, I talked about how easily I could go down a deep, dark hole and wallow there for the rest of my life. I talked about how, every damn night, my thoughts go down a bunny trail and end up somewhere horrible...somewhere that makes me feel horrible. Inevitably, I wind up at the time when my brother asked me to take him to some car dealers and somehow it ended up being about my piece of shit car. I made it about me. I felt awful about it then, I felt awful about it a year or two ago when I called my brother up and apologized (again) profusely and he said, "What are you talking about? I don't even remember..." and yet...and yet...it still bothers me. I feel like it reflects my character and that reflection is butt-ugly. 

Then, on the way to the meeting, I somehow got to thinking about the time when I was a child (10,11, 12?) and Mom and I were in the city, going to the Mall. It was always a big deal to do that. Well, it had rained or was raining and I either walked through a puddle or a car drove through a puddle and my jeans got all wet and dirty. I pitched a fit because I was embarrassed. I pitched a fit. I remember Mom ran into someone from the hometown and I was probably crying and acting like a shit and Mom had to buy me new jeans to shut me up. I was a horrible child. Horrible! And I think back on that and regret it. Immensely. I didn't need new jeans. I didn't. I could have survived a day of embarrassment with wet, dirty jeans. I did not need new ones. I'm sure it was just easier for Mom to give me what I wanted to put me in a not-so-irritating mood. 

See how easy it would be to dwell on this stupid ass shit and let it bring me down? Easy-peasy. 

Then the next guy spoke at the meeting and he said something that really helped me. He talked about himself and how he's essentially the same as I am and what his sponsor said to him...."Are you the same person now you were then?" Well, no. No, I'm not. Oh gods, I hope I'm not. "Look at all the hard work you've put in to become a better person. That counts for something..." I'm going to remember that tonight when I'm trying to fall asleep and I inevitably think about some random thing that eventually takes me to me being a piece of shit. I am not now the person I was then. 

What I do when I find myself thinking about stupid, random, bad shit is to picture a big red STOP sign and then force myself to think about something else. What am I doing tomorrow? Focus. On. That. Focus on anything else. Anything!  I can do that when I'm mentally healthy. I'm not capable of doing that when I'm not.

Am I anxious about starting my new job? Yes, a bit. Not overwhelmingly-so. Just a bit. I'm mostly excited...but there's a small voice in the back of my head that wants to take me down a dark path...."Hope you don't get anxious, then depressed, then suicidal...." "Hope you don't wind up the same place you always do...in a hospital..." "Hope you can figure out how to not be scared shitless when driving in the snow!" *Sigh* I wear myself out. Sit down and shut up, little voice!

I baked a blueberry pie yesterday. Guess what I'm going to go do....

"Anger is one letter short of Danger."

I cannot even begin to describe to you how incredibly livid I am. LIVID, I SAY! Grrrrrrrr!

So this morning, I took Shooter to the vet. My brother was to pick him up this afternoon after work and take Shooter to their new rental house.

I came home, washed everything - I mean EVERYTHING - took 3 loads of wash. I washed his bedding (2 blankets I keep in the trunk of my car), I washed the couch & chair covers, I washed his wipe-your-muddy-paws-off-rags, I washed all of the rugs - 6 of them. I washed all of my bedding. I took apart his kennel. I gathered up all the food, treats, stakes/tethers, flea & heartworm stuff and his pain meds. Oh! And gathered all the extra poop bags for my brother to use because they're going to have to walk the dogs around the neighborhood. They've never done that before...so a parting gift from your dear sis. Poop bags! I Swiffered everything. I swept. I Wet-Jet Swiffered. I used up all the rest of Shooter's bath concoction and the rest of my homemade bug spray and sprayed the entire fenced in area. Entire area. They're mostly vinegar so I thought that would help with the dog-pee-smell in my yard.

And then, because I care, I spent the entire afternoon at the old rental house, supervising the movers. Which turned out to be a good thing because guess what? The movers aren't moving the furniture to the new rental house. They're taking it back to their warehouse! So, no furniture in the new rental house until who-knows-when. Hopefully tomorrow. And then, because I'm so caring, I went home, got a trashbag & broom and cleaned the old rental house because these people live like pigs. Seriously. I guarantee if I moved my couch out, you wouldn't find anything but freaking cat (& dog) hair under there! Not candy wrappers or actual Cheetos or paper from school or underwear! Who loses underwear? What are the kids doing in there?

Ah well, that's not the worst of it. Come to find out, I'm stuck with Shooter this week.

WTF?!?!? You cannot imagine the words that came out of my mouth. Oh, wait, I bet you can. I told my brother he better be kidding. He says he's not. I'm not putting anything back together or in it's place until I see for myself that he's really not kidding. And let me tell you, I won't be putting any fucking rugs back on the floor and my brother will be putting that fucking kennel back together and I flat-out refuse to put that fucking stake back in my yard, I don't care how fucking muddy it gets in the fenced in area - that's where Shooter's going. He'll be lucky if I take the blankets out of my trunk and make a bed for him again!

*sigh* It's not Shooter's fault but my brother better have a damn good reason for not taking back his fucking dog.

Pissed! Beyond pissed!

I can't believe how many images there are for "beyond pissed". Lovely. I'm not alone. 

"At first I was afraid. I was petrified. Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side..." -Gloria Gaynor

"But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong and I grew strong! I learned how to get along!"

I survived. I actually survived. Not only that, I had a really good time. Even before Shan & Jase got there. I was perfectly o.k. chatting it up with people and sipping my Canada Dry (thank goodness for Canada Dry!).

And then Shan came in and the look on her face....it was like she thought the world was ending and I was the coming of the apocalypse....or the look I imagine she'll get when I tell her I'm dying. Seriously. It would have been comical if it wasn't so serious. She made a bee-line for me. The first words out of her mouth were, "Are you o.k.????"

Awwwwww. What a comfort that someone cares about me so much as to be concerned about my sobriety. And I've never even told her I'm an alcoholic. I'm sure the whole town knows; I assume they all do. I've just never talked to Shan about it directly. So for her to know....was a bit of a shock. I mean, she knows I don't drink anymore and that I don't like to be around it, but...the concern on her face. Wish I'd taken a picture of that.

Instead, you get this:

Jason (the husband & one of my best high school friends), Michelle who invited me, and Shan.

The 40-year-old

At around 9-ish, I started to feel like I had to get out of there. I can only smile for so long without my face cracking and I can only smell & see beer for so long before I want one. So it was good to part when I did. And it's always good to leave them wanting more. One of my other super high school friends, Sweetchuck, followed me out and said how good it was to see me out & about. I said, "Just 'cause you don't see me, doesn't me I'm not out..." to which he said, "But, do you ever leave your yard?" He got me there.

But I made it! I really made it!

On a sad note, when I got home, Shooter was, actually, worse. He walked to the garage door to take the 3 steps down to go outside, but he wouldn't take the stairs. I tried to pick him up but he was shaking so bad and growling at me, so I left him alone and called my brother.....who is now taking Shooter to the vet to get pain meds. That'll be fun, won't it??? I think they may break the rules and keep him at their house tonight. Whew! Because I just want to cry looking at him and I'd be up all night checking on him and crying some more.

How do parents do it?

"I really don't think I need buns of steel. I'd be happy with buns of cinnamon." -Ellen DeGeneres

What are these?

A. I've finally mastered the homemade low-carb bun.

B. Pumpkin Snickerdoodle Cookies

C. Homemade dog treats as a going-away-present for Shooter.

If you chose B, you are correct! While they may look like what low-carb buns should look like, I have not yet mastered that technique. And puh-leeeze, why make dog treats when I've got an almost-full-bag yet to use? He's happy if I just look at him. He doesn't need treats. If these taste anything like the dough tasted before I baked them, they'll be gone in minutes.

Why do they look like that you ask? Because I have a problem. While I follow the recipe (almost to a T - I halve most recipes so who knows if I'm right?) I cannot seem to get the dough rollable. You know what I mean? I mix everything correctly. I cover the bowl with SeranWrap and put it in the fridge for at least an hour and it still comes out all goopy and unformable. I'm just making words up right now. Rollable and unformable. Those should be words if they're not. *sigh*

So I just dropped a heaping tablespoon onto the baking sheet and drizzled the sugar/cinnamon concoction over them. I'm sure they'll be fine. For my taste. Because I'll pretty much eat anything.


I have a bit of a conundrum. A friend of Shannon's has put together a surprise 40th party for Shan and her husband, Jason, whose birthday is tomorrow. This friend walked over to my house to invite me to the shin-dig tonight at the local pub. I said I'd be there. And then I thought about it. And I thought about it. And I thought about it some more. And I asked my brother if he wanted to go with me (as my buffer - he declined because he has a life outside of my neuroses.). And it's an hour away and I'm still debating.

Should I stay or should I go?

I had a homeless guy ask me that once. Anytime I hear that song or think that phrase, I will always think of him. Sad.

On the one hand, I have 4 years sober. I can't expect to go through the rest of my life avoiding all alcohol at all times. That's impossible in this country...or anywhere for that matter. I mean, pay attention to how many beer, wine and liquor ads are on during prime time t.v. Ridiculous! And Shan's practically my only friend in this town. Only true friend. Other than my parents and they don't count because they have to love me. Shan doesn't. She could have given up on me years ago. We're like those people who don't see each other for years, but when we do reconnect, we start right where we left off. I can't let a friend like that down.

But then I think, Will she even notice if I'm there or not? Will anyone, really? And if I'm not there, I bet she'll understand. I bet she won't even think about it. She'll know.

But, geez. I can't even sit down there for an hour in all my uncomfortableness (another non-word) and anxiety, sipping my soda and pretending to ignore all those people who are ignoring me? I can't even do that for her?

That's what I would think. Because I'm selfish. However, I don't have a zillion friends like Shan does so if my one friend didn't show up to my one-friend party, I'd sure notice.

*sigh*

When my brother came over this afternoon, Shooter got all crazy-excited and I don't know what happened, but my brother hurt Shooter. Somehow. Either he stepped on his foot or he bumped Shooter's bump on his shoulder or something but boy, Shooter lost his crazy-excitedness pretty quickly. And now he's afraid to go up & down the stairs to go outside and I had to carry him both times and I just had to lift him onto the bed and he won't jump down so I'll have to lift him off and, and, and. If he's still bad by Monday, I'm to call the vet. I hope he's ok because that dog is not going down on my watch (even though it was totally not my fault)! I mean, geez louise, I only have a few more days left to "care" for him! He's been fine for almost 3 months and now this.

I could easily use this as my "out" for tonight's shin-dig. Shooter's hurt. Somewhere. I don't know where. Everything seems to be in working order, but something isn't right. What if I leave for an hour and he dies? From a...what? Broken leg? Broken bump? I'm pretty sure he's not going to die...but I could say that I was worried he was going to.

*eye roll*

I'm going to end up going. I'm not going to go to any great lengths to make myself presentable, either. But I'll go. And I'll be a nervous wreck. And I may cry at one point. But I'll go and I'll hug Shan & Jase and then I'll bolt.

I hate this.

BTW, those damn cookies are so freaking good! I'm going to drop off 1/2 at Mom & Dad's so I can spread the weight-gain around. :) They could both use to put on a few pounds.

"Getting my knee tapped with that little hammer is a great excuse to kick the doctor in the shins!" -Maxine

Do doctor's even do that anymore? Check your reflexes? I suppose if you're having "reflex" problems! Well, that's not what I have.

*sigh*

Am I really only 40? Because my body's acting like it's 80.

I had my annual doctor's appointment this morning. Not only did I have my annual exam, I had an x-ray, she scheduled me for a gynecological exam with another doctor, she scheduled me for an ultrasound, she called in a prescription, and she wants me to schedule a mammogram.

If a woman didn't feel like she was falling apart before going to her first doctor's appointment after turning 40, she will after!

So my annual was my annual. The good news is, now I only have to get one every 3 years. They still have to do a pelvic exam every year, but the rest of it - kaput. Yeah! However, she balked when I told her I'd been square since April 30. She understood going off the Depo would throw me out of whack. She asked a lot of good questions....but in the end, she wants me to see the gyno-guy....who I've seen once before and he's fine and his nurse is fine, but Ugh. I hate getting these exams. Not fun.

We talked about my Hidradenitis-crap because I have two new sores (one on each side; lucky me) so she prescribed me the Clindamycin roll-on that I've used once before years ago. I trekked to Walmart to pick it up and insurance won't cover it so now they're haggling and I'm without it. I mean, I've been without it for years, though I haven't had any major flare-ups until recently, either, so I haven't needed it but now that I need it, they're screwing me over. I'm sure it'll all get worked out and I can pick it up on Monday because.....

I'm already scheduled to see the gyno-guy on Monday. And since I'm going to be there for that, the ultrasound folks scheduled me an hour earlier for them. To ultrasound my armpit lump. They want to know what it is before sending me to yet another doctor to have him do whatever with it...probably cut it off and leave me with a gaping wound that will prevent me from wearing deodorant. *sigh*

Oh and while I'm there on Monday, I'll have to fast 12 hours beforehand so I can get all my blood work done. Not a big deal because I never eat in the morning anyway, but I'll have to remember "Water, not Tea"! Blood work for what, you ask? I have no idea, but since I turned 40, she wants blood work. Probably just to get a baseline for when I'm 50 she can tell me my cholesterol is up.

And.....a freakin' mammogram. My friend Shan has had hers done (and she's not even 40 yet!) and told me it's not so bad. I joked with my doctor that my fear is I'll feel intense pain, my brain will shut down, I'll pass out with my boob in the mammogram machine...I'll be hanging by my boob. That's my big fear. Surely that won't happen, right? They should give people stools. Or do it laying down. Can't they smoosh your boob while you're laying on your back? Why hasn't someone invented that machine yet?

Oh and for the piece de resistance - she did an x-ray today of both of my hips and....drum roll please....arthritis! She said it's worse in the right hip than the left, which I don't know what she's talking about because my left hip is killing me today, and told me I can take up to 6 Tylenol a day to see if it helps. If not, we try other things. Super duper!

OK, so since insurance wouldn't cover my prescription this morning, I got a bit worried about all this other shit my doctor wants to do to me. I mean, if it's not covered, I don't need it. Seriously. I can live with a lump in my armpit, being square for the next 10 years, faulty hips, sores all over my groin and probably breast cancer (I'm sure insurance covers a yearly mammogram, lucky girls!). Anywhoo, I called insurance to find out if all this shit is covered. The guy literally said, "I can't tell you what's covered and what's not. Your doctor is supposed to call "provider services" to find out." Uh, wait. What? I, the insured, can't know what medical procedures are covered? LOL, you're hilarious. Now tell me, what medical procedures can I get? He put me on hold for 5 minutes to come back and tell me they were going to mail me a packet....which I should receive in 5 to 7 days....which in the State of Iowa terms means "Never". Because they've told me they were sending me a packet on multiple occasions and I have yet to receive any.

*sigh*

And then the ultrasound people called to schedule my appointment and I hesitated because I'm not going to be stuck with some stupid-ass bill and she said what she's noticed is that medications are entirely different. Insurance companies do haggle over that, but all medical procedures are "usually" covered under Medicaid. Now, why couldn't the State of Iowa-asshat I talked to on the phone tell me that? So I scheduled it. Obviously. It's Monday.

And then my doctor called me back because I'd left her a message saying, "you need to call insurance" and she was all like "Huh? That's not normal"....

You know that saying, "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth"? That's what I'm doing. The State of Iowa very generously gives me free insurance, has paid for all of my medical needs over the last year and a 1/2 and while they can't give me a straight answer, I'm not going to push it.

Here's what I think - if Medicaid doesn't cover this stuff, I can talk to the hospital billing department as an indigent person. They'll help me out. Insurance didn't cover one of my days in the hospital and the hospital waived it completely. I never even saw a bill.

So there you have it. I'm falling apart.

And that's not even the worst of it! The worst (or best, depending how you look at it) is that my brother found a house to rent that will allow pets. So Shooter will be leaving me sometime around September 1st. I don't know if I should be sad or glad! I'm mostly sad...so I keep telling myself, "Here are all the reasons you should be relieved...."

1. No more dog hair!
2. No more dog stench!
3. No more sitting outside in extreme heat!
4. No more sitting outside in rain!
5. No more wiping mud off paws.
6. No more washing sheets & blankets & rugs covered in dog!
7. No more incessant whining (he's doing it right freaking now...)
8. No more eating-Garfield's-food!
9. No more "accidental" peeing when I'm  out of sight.
10. No more worrying if I've left him in his kennel too long when I'm gone...
11. I can put my living room back to normal!
12. No more crazy-dog-eyes while I'm eating.
13. O.M.G. no more scratching and noshing on balls.
14. No more picking up dog poop!
15. No more "my yard smells like my brother's neighbor's yard....excessive amounts of dog pee!"
16. So. Freaking. Expensive!

I just need to remember this short list of why I don't own a dog and I'll be happy to return Shooter to his family! I'm sure this one

Geez, look at that tub of lard!

will be happy, too.

“Don’t ever take a fence down until you know the reason it was put up.” –G.K. Chesterton

Eleven hours later (plus 3.5 the night before) and we're done!

Drum roll, please..............We're done! 

I've never been so dirty & sweaty before. Haven't I said that in just about the past 3 posts? Well, this time I really mean it. My shower-poof is dirty. The. SHOWER-poof! It's covered in soap, for pete's sake! But it is and I'm glad I have a new one waiting.

My plan today is to, literally, not do anything. I may not even move....though I have already taken Shooter out once - he's getting used to the fenced-in area and I'm trying to make sure he doesn't make a magical 6' leap over the fence or start digging under or somehow smoosh himself through the gap at the front section (no way his head would even fit)....and it's pure bliss to be able to go outside without a hat on covering my bedhead...or to remember, late at night, that I needed to put the downspout down and not have to put a bra on to step outside! And to not have to gaze at, well, anything. Give me a wall any day.

I absolutely love it.

We worked our asses off in incredible heat & humidity but, really, it was a pleasant experience. I couldn't have asked for a better crew!

And now I'm going to go sleep the day away....

“Please be safe. Do not stand, sit, climb or lean on fences. If you fall, animals could eat you and that might make them sick. Thank you.”

The first panel is up!

The first gate is up! Brother is contemplating the latch instructions. Not so easy...

Back section is done! 

Side section is done!

I wouldn't normally call my brother a "stud", but he's a stud.

Front section - almost done! Brother is supervising...

Front gate! - Almost done....Wait, didn't I say that already?

Well, Blogger's being a piece of shit & won't let me place pictures where I want them....so for the finished product, see the next post!

I'm too damn tired to deal with this shit...

“...what it comes down to is that Dina is no good at life. It takes a knack that she’s never quite got hold of. She can fake it for months at a stretch, sometimes even a year, but it takes concentration like she’s tightrope walking, and in the end she always wobbles and goes flying.” - Tana French, Broken Harbor

It's 7:45pm, Saturday night. I just got back from my brother's girlfriend's shin-dig at their house. It was all fine & good and after my first debacle with the coffee cake (more to come), the second one turned out just fine and only 3 little pieces were left (even after I told everyone it was low-carb!) I don't know how much of it ended up in the trash and I don't want to know. It's best to live in my fantasy world where everybody absolutely loved it. My brother said, and I quote, "It's not bad. I don't taste metal!" More to come on that....

The reason I'm blogging tonight, even after shutting down my computer before leaving the house and having to turn it on again & wait for it to load up to do this is because on my way home, I got hit with the temptation. Boy, it sucks. It's just a vague feeling of, "Man, a drink would sure hit the spot right now." "Hanging around people, getting drunk with them, talking my head off and acting like a fool sounds pretty good right about now...."

Because while I can put on this social mask and fake it through 2 hours of being around people I don't know at all, it's better drunk. So, so much better. And so, so much worse.

Why is it when I'm feeling pretty good, I want to drink? I mean, that's not always the case. I've felt pretty good for awhile now but I feel better now that I've lost a teeny-tiny bit of weight and I have some clothes that fit (thanks, Mom!) and I don't know...my neighbors have been not-so-annoying today and I got to hang out with my brother and yesterday I picked up a dead squirrel on my own and I can drive without going into a panic and I can listen to some music without wanting to off myself and yeah, Elvis is dying but he's not dead yet and Garfield is fat & disgusting but still lovable and I'm excited for Mom & Dad to come home this week and let's plant some flowers! and, and, and....

But why tonight?

I think it stems from being around strangers for the last two hours and having to be funny and social and smiley and concentrate on what they're saying and laugh when it's appropriate and geez, why is this so hard? Can I just go sit on the porch by myself and smoke? *sigh*

Or maybe it's because the last two times I've slept, I've dreamt about men and being in love and even in the last dream, dreaming that "this isn't what I want...what am I doing?....this will just end badly....don't text him..." Even in my dreams, I know it'll end all wrong. I'll end it all wrong. And I wake up with this warm fuzzy feeling and then just empty like a Mack truck hit me in the stomach. Because I don't think I was built for love. I want to love someone from a distance. Like, they live in another town far, far away and we only see each other once a month or year and we're both perfectly content with that.

Ah hell, maybe I just need to get laid. It has been over a year.

At least I'm home and in my pajama's and you know that means I'm in for the night and there's no way I'm going anywhere where there's alcohol. This too shall pass.

As for the coffee cake - the first one was delicious. Absolutely delicious. Except, while I was scooping out my second piece (I'd already eaten one), I noticed the metal coating on the pan was coming off and sticking to the bottom of the cake. I wonder how much of it I ate in the first piece?!? So I had to take the whole cake out of the pan and scrape off all the metal-like pieces (because I was going to eat the damn thing- no way was I going to waste cake, dammit!) and wash it and line it with tin-foil because I wanted to bake today's cake in that pan. Yeah, didn't work out. The aluminum foil tore before I'd even started the batter so, fuck it, I used my disposable 8X8 pan instead. And the cake, to my taste buds, was still delicious. And my brother didn't taste any metal. He joked that I'm probably going to die from squirrel disease...I said it'd be that or metal poisoning. I'll probably set off the Walmart detectors tomorrow. Yeah me!

At least I won't be drunk.

"The best way to keep your friends from borrowing your stuff is to have crappy stuff." -Maxine

I think we all know how much I love my little brother. I'd do anything for him. Maybe it's because I treated him so poorly when he was a kid and I was in my horrid teenage years, though he did cry when I left home (probably from relief). Or maybe because in my first round of "I think alcohol might run out so I better drink it all right-freaking-now" I called him incessantly. He was in the Navy. He told me to stop calling him so much. So the next round of "my body will cease to exist without alcohol" I learned my lesson and called him less...I still called him. Of course I did. Just less. I've been his chauffer. I've helped him move. I've kenneled his dogs. I've tried to make him laugh. I've let him crash at my house. What isn't there I would do for him? Nothing. Flat out nothing. If he called me, frantic because he's got a dead body in the trunk of his car, I'd more than likely help him bury it and hide the evidence. We'd be cellmates.

So I love him. Plain & simple.

But I don't know how the hell he's become the pig that he is.

I know we didn't grow up this way. I explain Mom's house as "always ready for visitors, even though nobody ever comes over". That's how I grew up. That's how I live. My house is always presentable. I don't leave shit lying around. Everything has a place and there's a place for everything.

*sigh*

It wears me out to go to his house.

His girlfriends mom is dying. She's in hospice. In Arkansas. So the whole clan drove down there last night. I'm going over twice a day to take care of the dogs & cat. I went last night and it took me about an hour to clean the cat's litter box. I wonder if the girlfriends daughter knows what that scoop thing next to the litter box is for? Geez. Poor cat. I'd bring her home with me but I'm pretty sure Garfield would eat her.

And just shit everywhere. Everywhere.

This morning, I couldn't take it anymore and cleaned the kitchen. I took out the trash and found a paper plate turned upside down on the floor. Picked it up and it was caked with syrup. So, syrup on the floor anyone? And I put dishes away out of the dishwasher so I could put the dirty ones in. How hard is that to do? I swept the floor. Took me two seconds. I wiped down the hutch in the dining room, the coffee table & end tables in the living room and there's a laundry basket full of what looks like trash in the living room but there was also a new box of Swiffer stuff in there too so I left it alone. I'll tackle that tonight. I emptied the two overflowing ashtrays and cleaned up his porch.

I could spend days doing this and I haven't even touched the bathroom. They need a maid and I think her name is Amy.

Though I get grossed out pretty easily so tonight I'm taking my rubber gloves with me to wear while I'm cleaning. I mean, I can't keep washing my hands every two seconds. They're going to run out of soap. And that's the other thing! They don't have any kitchen towels! Which is probably a good thing because they'd all be dirty & caked with food so best to use paper towels.

I kept talking to the dogs the whole time - "How do people live like this?" "I don't even want to know what that is." "Ugh, Gross!" I'd like to take over that damn house for a week and then set up rules for them to live by. And if they didn't, they'd owe me $100.

LOL.

I get it. I do. Not everybody is like me. I'm not even that clean...but I do hate shit lying around everywhere. I like things to look nice even if they aren't.

And they have 3 kids, 3 dogs and a cat. And my brother is a boy. Boys are just less clean. They care less about appearances. I care about not feeling like I need a bath every time I sit down somewhere.

There. That's my rant for the day. He has a lovely house. Really. It's beautiful. Somebody just needs to show that...and that somebody's me.

And what a good deed I'm doing for the family, who's going through a really hard time. I can't imagine losing my mom. I'll never be ready for that day. It'll be too traumatic. In fact, I've told my brother he might as well lock me up in a rubber room for a week when it happens. It'll be unbearable. So, I want them to come home to a clean house and not have to worry about putting dishes away or sweeping the floor or putting clothes away or any of that other shit....No, what they'll spend their time doing is looking for all the shit I've put away. Bwahahahahahaha.

"I don't like loud music....but neither do my neighbors, so it's worth it." -Maxine

*sigh* Here I sit in my own home with ear plugs jammed into my ears, my television cranked so I can hear it properly and so it'll annoy my neighbors (doubtful....I wonder if anything annoys them?), my fan running....anything to create noise to drown out their noise. I hate inconsiderate people.

My younger brother asked me, a few days ago, to go over to his place this morning to help him move his outdoor furniture to his deck. I was happy to do so! I figured I'd take 15 minutes to help him, then run to Salvation Army to find a new crappy mowing T-shirt. Perfect. So, I got up, bathed, even put makeup on (because if I'm going to do a little, I might as well go all out - and who knows who you'll run into at Salvation Army?) and ventured to his place.

Yeah. I don't know what it is about my immediate family but they tend to leave out details so a person can't properly plan anything. Hellllloooooooo! I'm a sweater! I literally can stand still and drip sweat. My arm pits stink up my clothes. When I was getting my Master's degree, it got really, really bad. I went to the doctor. He prescribed me some roll-on shit that I had to cover with seran wrap every night (that did not last!), so yeah, I have a sweating problem. If you've ever noticed, I'm rarely in a situation where my arms are down by my sides. That's because I sweat! And when I sweat, my clothes get wet. And when my clothes get wet, I stink! Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrggggghhhhh! And come on. If I'd known I was going to be doing what I ended up doing, I would not have bathed. I would have thrown on a hat, a pair of sweatpants and the crappiest T-shirt I own AND a pair of goddamn crappy shoes.

On a side note: I have finally found a deoderant that semi-works, after how many years of trial & error? Seventeen years, give or take?!? Yeah. 17-fucking-years I've been like this. It's Secret Clinical Gel, btw.

Not that I mind helping my brother. I'd drop & do anything for him. I just wish I'd known. Why is it so hard for my family to get that?

Anywhoo, I get there - we move his patio furniture & grill to the deck. And oh, yeah, by the way, we need to move the "I-weigh-a-ton" computer armoire to the garage (his g'friend wanted it in the basement. Yeah, not gonna happen). I only had to stop 5 or 6 or 7 times on the way to the garage to get my grip back. And then we had to move her son's bed down to the basement and his bureau into the other boys room and Oops, the bed doesn't fit down the stairs so lift, turn, pull back, take apart and away we go! And of course, I couldn't just leave things the way they were so let's rearrange the garage and move the box of basketball hoop that's been sitting in the living room since Christmas to the garage....

I asked my brother, "Don't you have any strong friends?" And he said, "Yeah, but they're all lazy." Why do he & I have such lazy-ass friends? It's a damn good thing we've got each other.

At least I didn't have to workout today. I got my sweat-on. My head was dripping. My shirt was drenched. Even my damn feet were sweating. I think it's pretty clear - I am not ready for summer.

And as I pushed the button to open my garage door, my forearm cramped up so bad, my hand went into a turkey-claw-curl. I could barely push the damn button to get the door down. And it happened again while I was trying to shave my leg (b/c I was in the bath as soon as I walked into the house). *sigh* Naptime.

And then.........bass, bass, bass, bass, bass, bass. It's times like these I seriously wish I were deaf. Could someone please donate a 6' fence to me? Please? Pleeeeeeeeease?

Really, though, none of this is so bad. I can cope. So I took an extra bath today & didn't make it to Salvation Army to get a crappy t-shirt. And the ear plugs aren't that uncomfortable....until the inside of my ear itches. Then they're torture. It's a good thing Elvis is already deaf. Garfield can adjust.

I just want to be able to cut my meat at dinnertime.