My dear Joon...

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shireling
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Sun Jun 10, 2018 10:03 pm

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
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shireling
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Tue Jun 12, 2018 9:55 pm

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
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Wed Jun 20, 2018 1:30 am

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 :roll: . 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
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shireling
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Wed Jun 20, 2018 5:39 pm

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 :D . Like I said, I could get used to this.


:)
sara
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shireling
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Sat Jun 23, 2018 7:58 pm

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 :lol: 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. Nope, nope nope, nopenopenopenope - don't think so.

*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
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