My dear Joon...

[shireling]

I come here, on average, once or twice a day, thinking I have something to write.

But most of the time, things just fizzle and I end up going off to play FreeCell. Recently I came across some YouTube about Shakespeare, and I am going to take advantage of those - especially the one about the real Macbeth. What I truly wish I could do is see the plays, the whole plays. I'm only into the tragedies (you can blame that on my Puritan high school teachers), but I find there's so much more I can appreciate when it comes to them. And how grateful I am that my life doesn't mirror theirs. In fact, what follows is about as bad as it gets most days...

I bought the boss the wrong cat food. Again.

The right brand, the right type (pate over bits), and the wrong flavor. As soon as Amy saw/smelled/heard it was chicken and not white fish/tuna or salmon, she ignored it. On Saturday, the whole day, it sat there. I mashed it with a fork. I don't know what that was supposed to accomplish; maybe it would smell different? It certainly didn't look the same. Hour after hour I passed her by, thinking any minute now, she would succumb to the delectable, spreadable offering in the bottom of her dish.

You haven't lived until you've been given the evil eye by a cat. Bast-like, she glared at me; if those had been lasers, I'd be deli-sliced. Anyway, in the late afternoon, I dumped it down the disposal, washed the bowl, and filled it with kibble, to take her through the night. I still had a few of the fish meals left - I had thought I was getting a jump on the pantry - and, this morning, I gave her one. She stuck her nose into it and didn't come up for air for many minutes. This morning the store was nice enough to take the turkey/chicken back, and let me exchange it for the fish-flavored. Let it be known to all, that I have of'fish'ily learned my lesson...

And I did something today, something I'm rather proud of. I need to set this up.

Just so you know, I've been there, where this lady was. And nobody was helping her; frankly, I don't think they knew how. But, if you have ever been out with a small child - say, four or five-years-old, and there's massive traffic in the parking lot, and the kid is defying you (he dances just out of your reach, he won't hold your hand, he won't cross with you, he won't go back to the car - he is just being an absolute brat!) - you know what I'm talking about. And my old ticker just went out to her.

I slowed down, rolled down my window and asked if she was his mother or grandmother.

"His mother."
"I'd like to speak to him. Is that okay?"
"Sure."

I motioned him toward the window.

"LISTEN YOU! YOU DO WHAT YOU'RE TOLD AND YOU DO IT NOW..."

I don't remember the entire rant, but I put the fear of Jesus in him, and he cuddled into his mother's side. Then I parked, and I didn't see them since. Which me reminds of this...

There's an old story about a king going for a boat ride, and one of his slaves was making a fuss. They tried bribing him, threatening him - nothing worked, and the king's excursion was about to be spoiled, when a wise man asked if he might try to quiet the servant.
"Oh, t'would be a righteous deed!" exclaimed the king, and the wise one ordered the slave to be tossed overboard.

He was allowed to flounder, and swallow some of the river before he was grabbed by the hair and pulled back on board. The slave immediately scrambled to the main mast, wrapped his arms tightly around it, and sat in silence. The king was amazed and asked, what is the wisdom of this?

The sage answered,"The servant did not know what it was to drown, and so did not value the safety of the ship. So doth every man value security who hath known calamity."

So doth every little monster cling to Mother, once being screamed at by a crazy lady who won't mind her own business. I hope it lasts.


sara

[shireling]

We've got the 131 scheduled for Duane.

And I called the vet to take Amy for those three days. While she's there, she'll have a senior checkup; I'm packing her meals and treats for her sensitive tummy. They have that hormone that they can soothe her with - I wish I was going with her. She'd have to stay at least three feet away from the Honey the whole time, it's just ridiculous. So, it's worth it to me to keep her safe. The morning of the procedure, we can drop her off, and pick her up near the end of the week.

That morning, he has to eat two hours before and can't eat until two hours after. Once he's done, he goes straight home; he can't be out in public for the whole 72 hours. No little kids can be around him, and no pregnant women. The day we pick up Amy, we can go out to lunch first, but that's well after the time's up. I'd thought of putting the hamper in the hall bath, but now I'm going to hang a bag in his bedroom. He's to keep his clothes separate from mine; we've each had our own bedrooms for years, so that's not a problem. But I can't be within 3 feet of him, for any real length of time, which is going to make TV watching a no go. I'm not eating even one meal a day with him, because I can't stay far enough away. And, now - now - he's moaning about all the fuss; I could just strangle him.

This, my darling, is what I've been bitching about. The stuff is dangerous, and it's sole use is to kick the crap out of your thyroid so that it stops growing goiters. It doesn't discriminate; it will effect any living/growing tissue it comes in contact with, whether you want it to or not.

...shit...

At least I'll be okay to go out. We've started up at Saint Francis with the Holiday Bazaar crafts, and the day after this is done, I'll be over there. He'll be fine. He's got the computer, and he lives on that. I just hate the whole thing.

I'm sorry. I can't stop being angry about this.


sara

[shireling]

Okay, it's done - the iodine swallow.

The Honey ate breakfast at seven, and I dropped off Amy - who yowled the whole trip to the vet; fortunately, it's a short one. We got to the hospital at 8:50 and they took me back to be with him some forty minutes later. The head of the department talked to us, and made sure that we still wanted to go through with it; I'm assuming that Dr. G_ informed them of the battle royal she and I were having. Mainly, the concern was to avoid extended personal contact, so no kissing, no sex, that was explicit. And after Duane signed the consents, we both went to where they keep the stuff and they put a plastic chix on his chest. He had to put on a pair of latex gloves, and they measured out a teaspoon of the iodine. It was poured into a lead-lined cup, and Duane drank it through a straw. The tech then put water into the cup three times, and had the Honey slurp it to make sure he got the full dose. That was at 10 AM. We drove home, I made lunch at noon, and then tried to get some sleep.

I'd been awake since 2. He got up, as he does during the night, and started coughing when he came back to bed. I lay there waiting for him to stop, and finally, I got up. It never fails. He will stop coughing as soon as he hears my feet touch the floor. It's a tick; it doesn't have anything to do with anything physical, it's strictly emotional. You might think, well he was probably about finished anyway. But it doesn't matter if I'm walking toward the bedroom door in the first seconds, or well into minutes later, the result is the same.

Anyway, I'm trying to sleep, and the phone began to ring with calls from Texas, and New Jersey, and Indiana, Out-of-Area, Unavailable, and Unknown. Finally I'd had enough, and when it rang with 'No Data', I grabbed my whistle and blew it into the receiver. I then slept from about 2 something to almost 7 PM. That's when I saw that the last five calls were from the endocrinologist. It wasn't on the phone; it was on the TV's caller id. So, I probably blew out a valid person's eardrum . O God. As if things couldn't have gotten worse between that office and me. So, there was a final call - the phone does say 5 PM from Dr. G_ - and they want Duane to call them. I wrote it down, and let him know it's on the dining room table.

What started the bad blood with her, is that she doesn't treat diabetics. Diabetes is a fault in the endocrine system, so that would be like me saying...well, I can't think of anything offhand that compares. She's only into thyroids; pancreas need not apply, and when I was first trying to find someone to help me work through my diagnosis, I thought this was great. Duane was already a patient, and I thought I could see her as well. Nope. Nothin' doin'. And it's been a bone of contention ever since. Also, I'm not regarded as part of his care. Just blows me off. They see me as interfering, no matter that he doesn't pay attention, or ask questions, but he does pepper me with them on the drive home. *sigh* I should say it's not just this, that's got me riled. In fact, it just adds to the anger and helplessness I feel.

I've come so close to emailing Trump. What a bastard he is! I'm referring to the disgusting treatment of asylum-seeking families, and that jackal Sessions. He was positively gleeful when he announced parting kids from their parents this past April. Fucking fascists, all of 'em. I have no patience with anybody who still supports this regime. If you were stupid enough to vote for him because you didn't do the work necessary to find out just who he was, I could grudgingly accept that. But that also means that you never cared about how he had maligned the birth and citizenship of President Obama. That did it for me, from day one, even without knowing the repulsive way he's treated contractors, his Corporal Bone-Spur five-time skip out on military service, the lawyers he hasn't paid, the people of color he's disrespected, and the women he's assaulted. That vile son of a bitch. Whenever he is finally removed from the Mansion, it should be fully fumigated and then ceremonially purified by Native Americans. God knows it's housed a multitude of sins down the centuries, and it could use a deep clean; Christ, I don't recognize my country at all anymore...

And you know what really hurts? Being older, and white, and having people think you agree with this! Just on sight, while you're in your car. Unless they're behind you and can see your bumper sticker. Those poor babies, all of them, because even teenagers are babies to their moms and dads. And the parents must be going nuts with worry. What in hell have we become? Really, America? I don't know you anymore. Not at all. FUCK!

This can't last. It can't stand. I'm going out tomorrow, and see what's going on at Saint Francis, besides the crafting. I need to get with people who are doing something.


sara

[shireling]

I wouldn't have thought I might actually enjoy any part of the thing, but I'm not missing Amy one bit. Seriously. She's always following me to the kitchen - even if all I'm doing it throwing something away. Nobody to trip over, no tiny paws to step on - thank God it's only for three days. I could get used to this.

Also, since Duane's got to keep at least three feet away from me, he's not constantly in my space . Like I said, I could get used to this.



sara

[shireling]

It's all done.

I've got a bag of sheets and pajamas left to wash, leftover from yesterday. His clothes and towels I did Friday, and then he helped me bag up the rest. We threw away his bedspread and pillow (I triple-bagged them, because if I washed them, they'd fall apart); in the case of the spread, which has been tearing, there would have been fleece all over the washer drum, and I'd glued the two pillows together to make one big one. I don't know what the glue would do to the machine, so we threw them out. It was three full days by 10:05 AM.

I got the beds made with the new stuff, and we went to the mall, and then out to lunch. I had bought some groceries on Wednesday that I could leave in the car, and we carried them upstairs after. I called the vet, and Amy's been home almost a whole day now.

She's gotten her shots, her UTI is gone, and she settled right in. This morning I groomed her - she asked for it, after casting three hairballs on the carpet. She's out in the living room right now, watching Have Gun, Will Travel with Duane. So, it's worked out so far. I hope it takes. It'll be about a year before we know for sure that it has. He's got labs to do before his next appointment in two weeks. Oh, and he's got this card in his wallet just in case he sets off radiation detectors. According to what we've been told, he can do this for up to 90 days, so this card will keep him from being sent to Gitmo. At least, that's the theory.

I've been wanting to address that Marianist gathering we had up north a few weeks ago. I've got a whole set of printouts on the Virgin Mary and Her status. Apparently it's got quite a range, from being a very good person, like St. Joseph, to the fourth member of the Trinity. Well, you know, with God all things are possible.

Why that should mean that everything improbable in the Catholic Church is literally taken as canon, I haven't a clue. But, in my search for an affordable statue of "Our Lady of the Apocalypse" which was cast or carved within the past few decades, I've come to the realization that She's never had a moment's peace. From the instant Gabriel folded his wings and knelt at Her feet, Her life was not Her own. She's always doing something, or going somewhere, like appearing on a hilltop, or on the side of a dumpster, or on a pierogie, a piece of toast or a Dorito.

She's holding a Baby, or praying, or saying the rosary with a bunch of little kids. If She's not on the ground, She's in the clouds, surrounded by more little kids, with wings. There's even one where She's got the Baby in one arm and a lamb in the other. And when I wanted to get a Kitchen Madonna, I really wanted the Irish one where She's sweeping the floor in front of a nicely roasting fire in the fireplace, where She's by Herself, and not feeding anybody. I really would like to see Her rocking before that fire, with a nice cup of tea in Her hands, catching Her breath. I should talk though. This statue I want, The Apocalypse Lady, has just beaten the stuffing out of Satan the Dragon, and is dragging him to hell. As they say, a woman's work is never done.

There are no goddesses in Judaism. A lot of heroines, but not one raised to the level of worship. So, this veneration of Mary, had to come from somewhere else. After the Crucifixion and Pentecost, things got very dicey for the Apostles. They got their act together and set out to teach among their own, but it was for the most part an uphill climb. Saul of Tarsus, on the other hand, didn't think much of this cult of the Nazarene. A Pharisee, he spoke out against these 'blasphemers', even to the point of signing the death warrant of one of them, Stephen, a deacon of the Jerusalem Church, and making him the first Christian martyr.

And it came to pass, that there were Pagans who wanted to know more about this Jesus. And, from what I've learned over the years, the easiest way to make connections, is to point out whatever you have in common. Jesus, like Hercules, Perseus, and Theseus, were all born of Almighty God and a mortal woman. The one difference, is that unlike Danae, the mother of Perseus or Alcmena, who bore Hercules, Mary was raised to such height, that She, like God and Her Son, would not die but be raised to heaven bodily.

Anyway, imagine how tough it would be to become a Christian. How do you make the transition from the polytheistic to the mono, or, in the case of evolving Christianity, to a trinity? And, hey, where's the women? Paul made all that possible, which is why modern Christianity is so far removed from Judaism. The physical fathering of Jesus by God, the elevation of His mother to the Queen of Heaven, except for the fact that the Founder(s) were Jews, it bears virtually no resemblance to its parent faith. Now it may interest you to know that the first Muslim, who was not a member of His immediate family, was led to Muhammad by three Catholic priests (I say Catholic because there really wasn't anything else around then.) But that's for another time.

Paul, I think, for what it's worth, has much to answer for. I'm sorry, but a bright light and a disembodied voice just don't measure up to spending three years traveling the Palestinian countryside, with the Man whose teachings and followers you loathed when you got up that morning.

*sigh*

I am so tired. My medication has been raised by 5 mg. and it's making me sleepy. Hope you're having a peaceful Saturday.


sara

[shireling]

I went out today and bought a Tau cross.

It's a little oval disc of olive wood, with the cross embossed in middle of it. The cord has the three Franciscan knots of poverty, chastity and obedience, and I also bought two rosaries. One is a five decade, and the other is Anglican. I wanted the Anglican one for just "Our Fathers" and "Magnificats".

The Protestant one is so cool. It's got 34 beads, one for each year of the life of Christ, plus the Resurrection. The maker of this set calls it
Rich Treasuries of Mercy, and when I read the quote that inspired it, I exchanged it for my original signature. St. Brigid is from the long ago recesses of time; as a result, her history is full of, well, rather silly miracles, at least to my thinking. But, this particular quote, its arms spread wide, heaped with generosity and compassion, makes her quite all right in my book.
Her little rosary is very Irish in the making. The stones are serpentine, the Pater Nosters are silver-plated, and instead of a cross, it's tipped with a Celtic Knot. The black wood five-decade rosary is making friends with my Baha'i prayer beads. I just felt the need to have one, besides my Crown with its seven-decades. There may be times when it'll be called for, and I want to make sure that I'm equipped. But as the day wore on, I decided to place it inside of the wooden box, the one topped with the Virgin Mary...then I changed my mind again, and that rosary is back with the Baha'i beads. I'll put the Anglican set with Herself.

Today, at the Catholic bookstore - and, I should say, that the Anglican rosary is in the post on its way to me from Etsy - I mentioned that I am the infirmarian for the Secular Franciscans of the St. Leonard Fraternity. When I was welcomed, they didn't provide me with a Tau, but since then, the bishops are asking for people to wear them, as an attracter. In the past, getting the Tau was seen as a rite of passage, a recognition of one's acceptance into the community of St. Francis. But, since my niche is unique, I don't think that my beloved Frankies felt comfortable with bestowing one on me. So, I got me one instead .

It's been worked on since I brought it home. I replaced the gold lynch pin with a silver one, and pulled my hamsa from my little cache of charms. I just felt that it should be added, as an homage to Malik-el-Kamil Sultan, so I added a jump ring and hung it from the lynch pin. It's taken me a while to decide just how I wanted to do this, and I think I'm finally satisfied with it.

Amy's looking at me to go to the kitchen, and I'm getting hungry myself. Tootles!


sara

[shireling]

Finally got around to doing the last of the radiation laundry...

I'd just put the bag in the basket, and Amy immediately jumps up and grabs the drawstring in her teeth. We were advised not to throw away anything, not to use anything disposable, so that's why I triple-bagged the old pillow and spread. Have no idea how much of a half-life any of this stuff has. I hope this doesn't hurt the kitty, especially after taking the time and trouble to get her out of here for the three days. Anyway, I washed that first, and then did two more loads before going back to bed at 7 o'clock.

Went back to my original GP yesterday. He's upped my anti-depressant to 15 mg from 10, and I'm back up to 3 Pramipexole from 1 at bedtime. I also told him that I had episodes of PBA, which alarmed him. I was in the grocer's, came back out to the car, and just had a laugh/cry for 2-3 minutes. It was the second and the worst of the two I'd had in the past month. I'm sure it was because I was off the Lexipro, and while I shouldn't have told the pharmacy to forget it when I saw that Dr. C_ was in no hurry to refill it, after stranding me for seven weeks, I can see now that I really do need this.

He gave me a requisition for a mammogram - to which I replied no thank you - but he said he had to give it to me, and make the recommendation. So that's done. I'll have labs drawn before I go back in six months, which will be after my 64th birthday.

It's terribly hot here. We've had torrents of rain, but it hasn't really given us a break. Mike comes on Sunday, but with a temp of 92 F (that's 34 C, to you other worlders.) I want to call it off since we're all three on medications that don't do well in bright sunlight, and we have no indoor options. I'm leaving it up to Duane to decide what the itinerary shall be.

Take care.


sara

[shireling]

No Michael this weekend.

It's going to be dangerously hot here in the valley. We did think we might go to the cemetery and take some flowers, but I can't help thinking about cars being caught on the interstate, their radiators erupting, and people running out of gas. Never mind the fact that the air quality is going to be positively filthy, as a result of the traffic.

So, I called the house, and was able to tell Mike. There was some talk of moving the middle boy and him to another home, while repairs were done. The third and youngest has punched several holes in the interior walls, and the thought was that they'd move them out to get everything fixed. Well, that's all changed. The problem child was sent away for behavior modification, for a total of five months. Since he's been gone, he attacked a staffer in this new location, and another one of the clients there, stopped him by grabbing him round the neck and choking him.

He's had a problem with keeping his hands to himself. It's not only the walls that have suffered, but caregivers have also gotten a few punches landed on them. Apparently, where he is now, he can be restrained - just not by another client. Anyway, he is being evicted from the group home he's been sharing with my boy and the other kid. I am so glad. It's such a relief. I feel for his parents, I really do, but if he's not reined in, he's going to be a casualty - either by being severely hurt or severely hurting someone else. I hope he gets what he needs...

On the home front, we're having the master bath get a little bit of updating. Next week, a handicapped commode is being installed, the shower heads are being switched from one to the other and I'm going to get my hands on some contact paper to redo the sliding doors on the medication shelves. Maybe pick up a new bulb cover, too. Anyway, that'll free up the hall bath for gutting down the road. I've wanted this for so long.


sara

[shireling]

My Anglican beads arrived today!

They are so nice! I thought they were awesome, but holding them is wonderful. They've got such heft, and prettiness, and there's a warmth as well. So, I found myself thinking, maybe have these for The Bab instead? Like have the knot be a God Sufficieth, the cruciform buttons as Remover of Difficulties, and the week beads O God! My God! My Beloved! My heart's Desire!

I like that .

So far so good with the weather. My main fear is the loss of power, it always is. I don't want that to happen to anybody, especially with this heat. Today was on the way up, tomorrow is supposed to be the worst of the three days, and then Sunday is on the way down to a bit cooler. Not much, but a bit...


sara

[shireling]

I can't sleep.

It's so annoying when it's hot (the high Sunday is 90, but it'll feel like 108.) There's nothing to do except stay inside, and avoid what passes for news as much as possible. And buy stuff online. I did it again . I bought a Saint Francis statue, made by the same company as the Our Lady of Grace. He's the same size, too.



But, I can be excused for loving the attitude; he's waltzing with the bird. I really love this guy. He has grown so much in my esteem, but you see what you've got to do, is go into the personal history of these people. Because I'm convinced there are some called saints that shouldn't be. If there's nothing beyond a handful of miracles, or say, insulting the Messenger of God, then why be included? What service did you perform for the community at large? Proclaiming the divinity of Christ by putting down another Christ, really? you did that? and were martyred for it is frankly illogical. Anyway, I went a little nuts and got a rose-scented rosary (I miss the one I had from Rome; I gave it to Steven when he was here last), and another Tau cross. That last is on back order and won't get here until the 15th. I took the oval tau I got from the book store, removed the hamsa (Hand of Fatima), and added a Tree of Life, plus a leaf. I've got this whole assortment of charms to pick from, so the tree is the 'Divine Lote tree beyond which there is no passing' or The Sadratu'l-Muntaha. It's a symbol for the Manifestation of God. And the leaf is for Navvab, the wife of Baha'u'llah and my patroness.

I'd had a hard time finding somebody that I could relate to. Tahirih, the Bab'i Poet and Seventeenth Letter of the Living, was married with children, but her Muslim husband divorced her and took the kids; Bahiyyih Khanum, daughter of Baha'u'llah, and designated by Him as The Greatest Holy Leaf, never married. I don't know why I didn't think of Navvab. For the longest time, I didn't consider her until about a year or so ago. And she was so warm and embracing, as if to say, "I thought you'd never ask!"

This is weird segue, I know, but I forgot to mention that when I went to the doctor, I'd lost 14 lbs since March . That was my last appointment until this past week, and now I am so on a roll. I feel a lot better with the higher doses of the Parkinson medication and the anti-depressant, though they don't seem to have helped the tremor all that much. The pramipexole is for restless leg syndrome, mainly. It does help me walk without a scissors gait, and it can help with Parkinsonism, which just goes to show you don't need a diagnosis in order for something to work for you.

On the historical/hysterical front, I always wondered what I'd do if I were living in just the sort of situation we're in now. I would have liked to be younger, of course, it helps if you are. You can get around, and march, and hold up signs, and I've missed all that. I was too young for the '60s, and too decrepit for now. *sigh* I can call my congress people. Of course, I haven't voted for the guys in power so what do they care? I hate politics. If you can't use it for the public good, then why are you there? Who puts party over country? Seriously...

On the other hand, it is the last - I hope - hurrah for bigoted, misogynist white men, the women who ride their coat-tails and anybody else who caters to either one. I don't believe in generalities, and I do my best to avoid them, but I've been hearing quite a few from others lately. That we're all acclimated to El Douche' is one I disagree with the most. I'll never go along to get along. I won't go out of my way to insult anybody, and I'm careful to keep my opinions in here, but I won't bring him up and if you do, it's a case by case of how I handle it. But don't expect me to agree if that's where you're headed. I'm haunted by those babies crying for their parents - how is that not a crime? Why hasn't 'he' and that jackal Sessions been arrested for kidnapping? And why are people just following orders?

The Nazis did that; that was their defense, and it was William Calley's, too. I'm expecting children to get sick, really sick, and that there may be a death - what the hell is going on. Son of a bitch...just had to say that.


later, loves
sara

[shireling]

Happy Fourth! Britain, will you take us back? Please? We'll be good! We have cookies! Anybody?

*sigh* Today was laundry day, so no rest for the wicked. I got four loads done between 3 and 7, and went back to bed until eleven. With the temps up over 100, I decided to heat up some Kartoffelsalat (courtesy of Paddy, telling me what German potato salad is in German), and I threw in four sliced-up cheddar brats atop the stove. It made a nice festive lunch, the potatoes are very pretty with their bits of bacon and parsley; they look like itty bitty pink flowers floating around in the pot. I told Duane this was in honor of the 30,000 Hessians who fought with us in the Revolutionary War. As Lafayette used to say, "Viva la Deutchland!"

I was wrong about my delivery. I thought the package would have been here yesterday, but it won't come until tomorrow. I am so looking forward to my Saint Francis of Assisi. I'd been wrestling with buying one for a couple years, and now I've taken the plunge. The rose-scented rosary is coming with it, and then I'll have to wait for the Tau; it's slated to arrive around the 15th. Or after.

Speaking of Signore Frank, I've been mulling over what I got from that dream. "Be there, and love them." That was the gist of what he said; everything else is my attempts to make sense of it. And I've come to realize that isn't only for the Franciscans. It applies to all people, everywhere. So, that's what I'll do, one thing at a time. One thing at a time.

Last night there were fireworks to keep the thunder company. There will be probably more tonight. Nothing makes me fall asleep faster and deeper than a good thunderstorm or fireworks display. If you've seen one, you've seen them all. And in the case of the rockets, if you're close enough to hear the crowd's oo's and ah's, your imagination will take you there.

We'll be okay. We've lived through the loss of MLK and the Kennedy Brothers, LBJ and Vietnam, Nixon and Watergate, Reagan and Iran-Contra. 9/11. And some good stuff, like Glasnost, the fall of the Berlin Wall. We'll make it through this, too. Happy Birthday, America. God bless you.


sara

[shireling]

The Honey had labs drawn on Monday, and we were told that the thyroid is spiking - which is something that it can do after the 131 swallow. So, he's back on the Methimazole, and it's a whole 5 mg tablet instead of half until his appointment, and that's today.

He's also back on Ritalin. The Adderall didn't do much of anything, and Ritalin did work the best. He was taking it until there was a shortage; I remember that like it was yesterday. You just couldn't get it, anywhere, it wasn't being manufactured and I don't know why that was. But that was when we ended up trying other drugs for ADHD, and nothing ever worked as well. He just happened to mention that at the appointment before last, and lo and behold, it's back.

So far it seems to be working. We jumped from 5 to 15 mg last Thursday, and he's actually been following me in conversation - which is something I never thought I'd say. It's a pain to get, though, because you have to carry in the paper prescription, and show a photo ID, it being a controlled substance and all - the Adderall's the same. Still, it's not as bad as the Lexipro was. The manufacturer would have you go to your appointment, where you'd be handed the prescription. Three weeks later, you go back to the clinic and turn it in. Then three weeks after that, you'd go back to the clinic and pick it up. If it weren't for the fact that it worked so well, I'd have said the hell with it. But now the doctor can call it in, and I pay for it along with my other meds.

My 'diet' is going fine, I guess. I've been on it for the past ten days, and I'm feeling really well. It's not what I thought I should do - probably my doctor would freak if he knew - but I'm not a breakfast person, and, given half the chance, I'll eat myself into a coma come evening. Those little meals throughout the day don't work anymore; I just keep eating well past the point of being hungry. So, I went on the diabetic shake (the 10 ouncer) for breakfast, between 5-6 AM, have been drinking water much more regularly, have lunch with Duane at noon and that's whatever we're having that day. When supper rolled around, there was just no such thing as moderation. I mean, I rule the kitchen. Who is there that can keep me out of it? It's like giving the key to the liquor cabinet to an alcoholic and telling them to just hold onto it. The glucerna is meant as a once a day substitute for a meal or snack, but I thought, why not try it twice a day? If it doesn't work, I can always go back to stuffing myself. Besides, I've been so desperate to get this weight off, and I'm tired of having 'education' flung at me; it doesn't work. I know what to do, I just can't seem to. I love food. It's delicious, affordable, and I don't have to meet anybody in a dark alley to get it.

Anyway, I've been drinking the second ten ounce bottle between 5-6 PM, and it's working . I'm satisfied with it, when I've finished it, I'm done. Not like I am with a tray of cheddar and a tower of crackers - I'm through when it's all gone. I really want to get down to fitting into those jeans I've had hanging in the closet, all five pair of them. But mainly, I want to be able to get around better than I have been.

Well, it's almost 5:30 and I'm ready for breakfast .


sara

[shireling]

The thyroid appointment went well.

For the next three months Duane's to have labs done the first few days of each month. Right now, he's on the 5 mg tablets to tap down the hormones, and depending on what the results are, he's to stay on them. I apologized to the doctor; I was really scared, and I'm not sorry for that. I do think my fears were handled very badly, and I don't think she has the capacity to reassure anybody of anything. Sometimes that's the trade off - a brilliant mind coupled with a steel wool heart.

Anyway, my Saint Francis statue came *squee*! He is simply lovely, looks just like his picture. And standing next to the Virgin, they both look so wonderful. I would have bought a Joan of Arc, too, but they don't make her in that size and style. Besides, I really don't like how the church treated her. She's a virgin saint, but not a martyr. I know I've gone over this before so I won't bore you with it again, but it just makes me so mad. *sigh* I just have to remind myself that it's been some 588 years, and everybody that had a hand in her destruction is probably the consistency of powdered sugar by now. She might even be friends with them, which would make her a better man than me.

Oh, and the other thing I bought was a rose-scented, five-decade rosary. It's beautiful, but I don't like the box they sent it in. It's metal, and shaped like a rose, but it won't stay together. The corpus kept falling off of the cross, so I had to glue it back on (it wasn't hard - it had three little holes drilled into the wood that the corpus could be affixed to.) Here's what it looks like



I think they used attar of rose for the scent, which is highly concentrated, and quite skunky. I mean it. It is really strong, and the further away you are, the better the fragrance. Well, I fixed the crucifix, removed it from the rosary, and I put the Tree of Life charm in its place. I've boxed it up with the Miraculous Medal it came with, and the ball-chain I saved from Great Grandma Pole's pendant; I have another crucifix, all metal and very nice, and I put that on the chain. Tomorrow I'm going to donate them at Goodwill. We have a really nice one here in town, and I think they'll appreciate it.

I also bought another Hamsa to put on with the Tau when it gets here. I just think they belong together, for the sake of Malik-el-Kamil and Francis. I've also been trying to come up with an anagram for myself. OFS is what comes at the end of the names of Secular Franciscans, and I can't use that. But I'd like to have something that results in a three-letter word - I'm just really stuck just now. I'll sleep on it and see what happens.

Tomorrow we're supposed to get our new handicapped toilet, and get the shower-heads switched. I am really looking forward to it. It's the beginning of the remodel, which may take the rest of our lives *hysterical giggle*. I still haven't found a soul to take over Shelob's Lair (the hall bath), but some nice contact paper and a new bulb shade will spruce up the master just fine. The hall bath will need gutted. You'd never know it was the prettiest room in the place when we first moved in. All water damage, and nobody taking responsibility, it took it's toll. So, the whole ceiling, the walls and flooring is going. I'm writing it down and I still can't absorb it.

Well, it's ten thirty. I've been awake since 4 AM, and I really need to get to sleep. Good night, my joons - or have a nice day, wherever you are.


sara

[shireling]

Okay. I changed my mind.

I'm not donating anything; I'm keeping it all. This is about as close as I get to hoarding, just as long as I can fit everything I keep in one of those fruitcake tins; I own two of them. And I put the crucifix back on the rosary, the wooden one it came with, and just as soon as I'm done here, I'll add the Miraculous Medal back to it. It just didn't look right with the Tree of Life, even though it did fit in the rose gift box better. But if it doesn't have the close contact with the attar of rose, the beads will lose their fragrance; that's the whole reason for buying this set. I doubt I'll use it much. Franciscans prefer the seven decade ones, and this is five.

Anyway, the master bathroom is complete ! We have the new commode (boy is it comfy or what?), the two shower heads have been switched, the ceiling bulbs have been taken out in exchange for the smallest LED ones I can find (that fit the sockets and still give light), and their shades have been cleaned and they've been switched, too. The small bulbs allow for the shades to give them the most cover.
And the medicine chest sliding doors have been covered with contact paper. You'd never know they'd been broken. I'm so happy
See? It doesn't take much.

As a result of all this, we ate lunch late and I'm sleepy. What a difference. I wish the hall bath was going to be this easy and quick - it's not.



later,
sara

[shireling]

We just got home from seeing a public presentation of The Gate.

It was wonderful (this was the third time I'd seen it), but I shook like a leaf the entire time. I hate this. I did manage to get it under control by dropping my head to my shoulder, and closing my eyes, but Duane just had to grab my temples with both hands and that was the end of that. Fortunately, one of the narrators, Dr. Firuz Kazemadeh, was sitting in the attitude that I need to keep the tremor down. I've had such a hard time trying to explain, and here there was an example of what I've been trying to get across. He had passed away not long ago; he was quite stiff in the film, and there was no movement except for his speaking the parts of his narration. Liz and Dick were very apologetic, I know they tried. I've got to find something I can tote around with me that'll do the job.

It didn't help that the Banes were there. The wife said,"Hello", and before I could even blink, I gave her the finger.

It was just this graceful arc, this flawless gesture, that ended with the middle finger of my left hand erect. O God. I'm not sorry, I meant it, but I'm surprised it occurred as it did. I told Duane, and he thinks I should be apologetic. Frankly, I don't. I want them both to leave me alone. Pretend I'm dead, out of town, married to the mob - whatever works.

Except for all that and the ceaseless shaking, it was nice. I got to see some half-dozen people I love dearly, and they all looked wonderfully happy and well, which cheered me up. But's devilishly hard to avoid these two. There's a Holy Day next week, and we're not attending, because they are hosting it at their home. They've hurt me terribly and have never taken any responsibility for the ugly things they've said. I'm just supposed to forgive - it says that in the Writings - forgive immediately. And they don't have to be sorry; after almost 50 years, I have yet to find it written that we should say we're sorry. In fact, the Bane thinks that apologizing is akin to going to confession, which we don't do. How bloody convenient is that?

And that's what is really at the heart of all this. The insults, the belittling all started because I don't do quid pro quos. He came over to the house, helped with repairs of various things, and I was grateful. I babysat their second son, I cleaned their kitchen because I was home and they were both working, etc., but I did those things, not because I felt obligated for the assistance, but because I wanted to. In Assembly meetings, he'd have an idea. He wouldn't surrender the idea to the group, not ever, and if I didn't agree with him, I didn't support his position, then he say I should lose my rights, I'm enabler, my husband didn't want to have sex with me, and so on. He'd get right in my face and say things, careful that others not hear him, knowing that I was obliged to forgive him without hesitation. Even when I went to authorities to tell them, it went no where. We were encouraged by at least two Assistants to move to another community, saying there was nothing they could do.

Some time ago, and I'd just remembered this, that the Bane had told me about some islands that he and his family were spending time on, teaching the Faith. They did all sorts of things for the population, from supplying food and clothes, to transportation and fixing stuff, and - this was the thing that didn't register with me at the time. "Not one of them became a Baha'i," he said. "They just took from us without giving anything back." Not one of them became a Baha'i. They just took. They just took... There's an historical precedent for that, when deplorable missionaries gave rice bowls to starving people if they would only embrace Jesus. It didn't register then, I don't know why. I'll admit what I did was childish, automatic or not. But things can't go on like this.

I don't know what to do. But things can't go on like this.



sara