bookmark_borderJoella, Barking Silenced

I have had a constant companion for twelve years. Joella went with me everywhere. On a plane to Toronto. In a truck to New Jersey. Atlanta. Montgomery. Charlotte. Waffle House. Olive Garden. Cracker Barrel. Home Depot. BestBuy. Lowes. Church. She was always there.

And now she’s not.

Jo was a pain in the ass to travel with. Oh, she was great to ride in the vehicle. Quiet. Didn’t get car sick. But then she wouldn’t eat. Wouldn’t drink. Wouldn’t do her business. The entire trip was spent arguing with her rather than doing what I was there to do. After a few years of this, I no longer took her with me if it was an overnight trip. She wasn’t happy either way. Neither was I.

In restaurants and other businesses, Jo was great. The best compliment we got (numerous times) was “Oh, I didn’t know a dog was there!”. That’s saying a lot when the waitress was referring to an 85 pound Rottweiler.

And now she’s not there.

I knew that when she died, it was going to be tough. I figured it would be a planned thing, where she and I and Lorna reached the decision amicably and Joella was allowed to be relieved of her pain or whatever it was that was making her life unlivable. But that’s not how it went. It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t what we wanted. What happened that day is another story for later. A dear friend of mine said that Joella died while I was gone (from the animal hospital) because she knew how hard it would be for me. I was there for all of them, to help them cross that veil. But I wasn’t there for her. I’ll never forgive myself for that. And I won’t forgive her for not letting me.

Joella died Sunday afternoon. She took with her a huge chunk of my heart and soul. I keep thinking she’ll come in from outside and nudge my arm. I’ve heard her bark, heard her nails on the hallway floor. Heard her snore. But she’s not there. And she won’t be ever again.

I’m at the point now where I can speak about her without losing it. I still cry at random moments. And I’ll deck anyone who says “She was just a dog.” Sorry, but you never met her if you actually think that’s true. Joella was a shithead, clown, helper, pain in the ass, friend, comrade, monkey butt. But she was never “just” a dog.

I’m also at the point where I am finding humor in this. Like, now we don’t have to dutifully read the ingredients of dog treats (she was allergic to chicken) nor only buy the small treats (she would only eat small pieces). We can take the Boys for car rides (she sprawled across the seat, pushing big Sam against the door and Mike onto the floor). The Boys can sleep wherever they wanted, including prime futon space, without her coming in later and making them move.

I’m a writer (in case you didn’t know) so I’m slowly writing Jo’s memoir of sorts. It starts with how she came into our lives. I didn’t want her. I thought she was oddly built (6 mos old Rottweilers are all legs). But then she picked up a rock and the woman who was fostering her asked her if she’d picked up a rock again. Jo looked at her, never moved her head, and spit it out the side of her mouth. “What rock?” I could hear her say. She came home with us. Jo’s original owners thought she was the dumbest dog they’d ever met. Ha. Last I counted, Joella knew over 40 Service Dog commands in addition to the usual dog training commands (although Joella always referred to them as “requests”).

Anyway, I could rattle on forever about my girl. I could tell you stories that would make you laugh so hard you’d crack a rib. I could amaze you by telling you what she was capable of as a Service Dog. But, really, it would all pale in comparison to what she was in reality.

I will miss her more than any words can say.

bookmark_borderBeer and Art

I don’t drink beer. Can’t stand the stuff and think it all tastes the same anyway. I used to like beer. But I liked it too much. Now I don’t drink any alcohol (although I can be tempted by whiskey. got a small bottle of Knob Creek here on my desk, still unopened, and in the fridge is some Buffalo Trace). But Lorna loves the stuff. She is a beer high brow. And Asheville is a good place to practice that art.

Asheville has won the Beer City USA award for several years in a row now (take that Portland!). There are a lot of microbreweries here (9?) and recently New Belgium and Sierra Nevada have decided to build breweries here. The Sierra Nevada move hasn’t been in the news much as I think it is a recent development. But, New Belgium has become a big thing.

For one, New Belgium believes in sustainability. The best demonstration of that is what they are going to do with the site here. They bought the old livestock market (the kind with live animals, not guys in suits) and will be reusing as much of the materials from the demolition as they can. And they’re making Asheville do what they should have been doing: fix the roads and improve the area. As for their own part, in addition to a few jobs, the site will have bike trails, hiking trails, a park, etcetera that will be integrated with the Asheville’s part.

They just commissioned some artwork. But the weird thing is, the artwork was painted on buildings that will be torn down. The idea is that then later, when stuff is rebuilt, planks with portions of the work will reappear scattered about the site wherever they are used. Weird but, then again, this IS Asheville.

bookmark_borderCritter Care and Lovin’

What we are thankful for: there’s so many things, you know? But this Thanksgiving we are especially thankful for the wonderful veterinarians we have. Charlotte Street Animal Hospital is a great group of folk.

We took Annie Oakley (cat) in to the vets Monday night. She’s always been a finicky eater and her missing a meal here and there is nothing unusual. But it had been several days and she’d not eaten much at all. Saturday she took herself outside for a bit, Sunday we think she went outside to do her business but that was it. But Monday during the day, she just stayed in a lump and didn’t move.

We took her in and nothing really seemed obvious except she had a high fever (104F, normal is 101F), very very low blood pressure, and inconclusive blood work. They gave her dose of fluids (cats get it under the skin vs in a vein) and we were all surprised at how quickly her body absorbed it. She didn’t seem dehydrated by boy she sure was!

We decided to leave her there overnight so they could give her an I.V. of fluid and medication. That’s always tough to do, you know?

The next day, Dr. Knepshied (our usual vet) and the one from that night (Dr. Amber) tried to figure out what was up with Annie. It could be this, it could be that, it could be something else. Her fever was still up but the blood pressure was getting better. She had started eating but only a little. We got three phone calls during the day, updating us on her condition and what they were doing. She hadn’t seemed painful that night but after the fluids and getting the fever down a little, she was reacting to pain in her abdomen and lower spine. They did x-rays which were normal. No foreign object, no bad disk, no obvious anything. Silly, weird Annie. We went to check on her that late afternoon and to talk to the vet (Dr. Peters), trying to figure out what the hell was up with her. She had eaten some more (they had actual cooked, shredded chicken for her) but as soon as she saw us, she dove head first into the dry food they’d left out and was eating like she was starving. This is not unusual for cats. We took off the soft ‘cone of shame’ they use for cats so she could reach the food easier. She ate a lot and the techs and vet were happy. We were too! We left her there a second night, hoping the continued fluids would help with her fever and blood pressure.

Wednesday morning, the vet called (Dr. Amber) and they discovered that she was reacting more to the abdominal pain than spine. As she was getting better, she was reacting more so they could tell where she hurt and all that. We agreed to an ultrasound. A few hours later, bingo. We had our diagnosis. Pancreatitis. It was a diagnosis that was one we were looking at but had ruled out because the blood work didn’t reflect that. Nope, the little shit tricked us. The gall bladder was normal but the pancreas was enlarged and dark (infection). But the ducts from the gall bladder to the pancreas was huge. Dr. Knepshield had done the ultrasound and said it was the largest she’d ever seen.

The good news is the treatment we’d been doing (antibiotics, I.V. fluids, pain medication) was the typical treatment for what she had so it worked out. Because of the holiday, we brought her home last night. She is acting MUCH much better. Kinda slow still but she’s eating. She’s skittish which is to be expected. Damn it’s good to have everyone home!

Now, to back track a little. We saw Dr. Amber Monday night. They’re open until 9 every weeknight. She called us at 10pm that night to tell us how she was doing. Then, she called us at 8am and 9am to give updates. She’d come in on her day off to help with Annie and a dog that had also come in that night. Dr. Knepshield does surgeries on Tuesdays but she checked on Annie between each one. Then when she had an emergency surgery that afternoon, Dr. Peters stepped in. All of this for one little cat. Then the cooked chicken, then the multiple techs and front desk people that went back to pet and talk to her in efforts to get her to eat. Then Dr. Knepshield doing the ultrasound in between all of her other duties. And then and then and then….This is why we love our vets!

Granted, we sure paid for it! Holy cow, we’ve never had to pay out that much money before. Let’s just say we are on a payment plan. Not as bad as we thought but higher than we’d hoped. Worth every penny. Because there’s no cost you can put onto the obvious care and concern and extra mile these vets went to.

bookmark_borderButch Bags

LGBT lesson of the day: In case y’all didn’t know, I self-identify as a butch. That means I embrace my masculine side more than my feminine side. Those on the opposite end of the spectrum are called femmes. I ain’t one of those. Not as many lesbians go for the role thing anymore. It’s not really a role, it’s a state of being. But that’s a different lecture as well as the theme to Butch Girls: Stereotype This, the next BG book I am trying to write.

Anyway, as a butch, I don’t carry a purse. Never have, I don’t think. I might have some in high school. I remember something about a leather bag with a horseshoe? That’s been a while! I’m lucky to remember what I had for breakfast this morning! Where was I? Oh, right, purses and the fact I don’t carry one. I’ve used various bags over the years to carry my shtuff. My fave by far was the Mountainsmith Day bag. I loved it except for one thing: it had a waist strap. They could be tucked into the back but it added bulk I didn’t want. I could have cut them off but sometimes Lorna needed it for something and she liked to use the waist strap. The bag had served me well for many years but was starting to show its age (aren’t we all?). Then when I had to start carrying medication for my headaches, then the glucose meter in addition to the usual bag crap, it was getting to be just a tad too small.

This summer, I got a laptop and a cool bag but after using it at the GCLS con, I didn’t like it very much. Since I carry my laptop bag at my feet, the messenger bag flap was a pain in the ass. If I left the flap flipped back, then the front bit slowly unzipped. When my niece was with us, she didn’t have a laptop bag so I gave her that one and got a new one. Since I’d only used it that one time, it still had the new stink to it. She loved that it was so big because then she could carry her art shtuff. I got a toploading bag, the same as the other one but without the flap. I started carrying my necessities in there in the front pocket. But its a huge bag. Nice bag, cool bag, but huge ’cause I got a huge laptop. So then I started just stuffing my pockets whenever we went anywhere, put everything in the truck, then restuffed when I got home. Bigger pain in the ass.

So I started the search for a new bag. I hit the usual websites (Campmor, REI, Duluth Trading, etc) but just didn’t find one I liked within a reasonable price range. 80 bucks for a laptop bag is one thing, 80 bucks for a butch bag was another. I didn’t want waist straps or backpack straps so that left out a huge chunk of them. I wanted removable shoulder strap. I wanted a carry handle. Yes, I am picky. I looked at Targus’ smaller laptop bags but, really, that’s not what I wanted. Close, but not quite. Timbuk2 has some awesome bags but pricey and the ones I liked didn’t have removable shoulder straps. Campmor didn’t carry much of the Mountainsmith bags so I went to their website. And I found it.

It’s the Mountainsmith small Messenger bag. No cool name on it but it is made of recycled water bottles. At least 7.5 bottles went into the construction. I got it from eBags, a site I should not be allowed to visit. Because for all of my dislike of purses, I love bags. Not flowery stuff, but bags. Yeah, I’m weird.

It finally arrived today! (bit of trivia: companies use FedEx and UPS because they are allegedly faster. They’re not. More expensive, too. However, for many of the rural areas, FedEx and UPS take the packages to the Post Office who then delivers them. So I waited ten days for a FedEx delivery, only to have it delivered by the post office who could have originally done it faster and cheaper. sigh.)

Where was I? Oh, yeah, it came today. And I love it already. It has tons of pockets. The flap has a zippered pocket and there’s an odd open one on the back. One side has the mesh bottle holder and the other has a padded MP3 player pocket with headset cord hole. Cooool. My iPod Touch (hush Kevin) fits so all is well with the world. Inside there is the usual big open space. Along the back ‘wall’ are several more. There’s a big open pocket (hook-and-loop tab in the middle). Then a zippered one (with a key hook thingy). Then another open one (no tab) and yet another zippered one. The shoulder strap is well padded and removable! The handle is rubber and easy for my hand to grasp. And big enough to slide over the armrest of my chair.

All of my crap fits with room to spare. If I had a tablet computer, it would probably fit. I know it is big enough for Lorna’s Nook. Not sure it is big enough for an iPad.

Oh, and the water bottle is new, too. It is the Nalgene OTG (on the go). Not sure I like the lid, though. I just ordered another, the OTF (on the fly) direct from the company. We’ll see how the lid is. If I like it, I think that lid will fit the OTF one, too. I drink a ton of water each day and wanted a smaller bottle to carry in the truck. At my desk, I usually have a huge 32oz Nalgene with a sippy cup insert. Seriously. Yes, I have the smiley face one but I usually use one of the others and let Lorna giggle during the day.

I cannot wait for my new chair and new cushion to arrive. My current one is looking rather ratty!

bookmark_borderSpectacles

I wear prescription glasses and, because I hate sunlight, I wear prescription sunglasses, too (no, I don’t glitter when I stand in the sun). I recently had to get both (sigh, gettin’ old ain’t fer wimps). I usually just keep wearing the same frames and get new lens but both were getting rather fugly. So I had to get lens and frames. Ouch. Just under $800 for the two. Less than we thought it would be but still, wow.

Anyway, the staff at LensCrafters were very busy so L and I wandered around on our own which is always better. I could care less about brands. I don’t wear shirts with the brand emblazoned on the front (like Hillfinger). I guess the only thing I wear with the logo showing is my jeans. And if someone is close enough to my butt to read it, they really ought to be careful back there.

I also hate how eyeglass places are slowly drifting toward gender segregation again. As in men’s frames and women’s frames. Being the fashion queen that I am (stop laughing), you know I sooo want flowery crap on my glasses. And check out this $485 frame. So, as usual, I had to go to the men’s section to find frames I liked. We glanced through the women’s section but, yeah, move along, nothing to see here. Years ago, I had an argument with a sales lady at Sears. She basically refused to show me any frames designed for men. It took us about two minutes of push pull before she crossed her arms and refused. That’s okay, I refused to spend my money there. We both won, I guess.

My new glasses are by Brooks Brothers. The only reason I know that is its on the case. I don’t look for a brand or label. Silly me, I go for what looks good in the mirror. Not that I look in those evil things that often.

The new sunglasses are Ray-ban. I liked them because they curved and will keep the sunlight from creeping in from the side. And I wouldn’t have known they were Ray-bans but the sales guy said so. He was quite proud of the fact that their logo would be on the lens. I asked if I got a discount for the advertising. The guy had no comeback, bless his heart.

Anyway, I got the glasses last week (I. Hate. Bifocals.) and the sunglasses today. The guy who helped me today was much better but had no answer as to how to remove the logo without ruining the lens. Dangit.

For all their high prices and logo everywhere, the case is teh stoopid. It’s a soft case vs hard. The regular glasses have a cool hard case but the new sunglasses won’t fit. So I did a Google search to see where I could get a hard case. OMG WTF? It was like I had did a search for eyeglass porn. That’s how creepy some of the site addresses were. Ebay was the calmest one. Then there were all the “How to tell the fake from the real” sites. I learned on CSI that if they are upright when on the table in the morgue, they’re fake.

Where was I? Oh, right, the point. The point to this diatribe is to ask if anyone knows where I can get a better case. I don’t mind going back to LensCrafters and asking them. Or going to one of those sunglass kiosk cart things in the mall. I just would prefer not to.

Oh, and The Awakening is at 133,555 words. It’s alive and growing.

bookmark_borderAn Open Letter

I won’t ever send this to the person this is addressed to. I don’t really want to have a civil discussion with him or any of the others because I have a temper and on this subject, I cannot control it. I originally wrote this back in May, after “Amendment One” passed in North Carolina. It was something on my mind and it insisted on getting out. I’ve decided, now that I am not so angry, that it is time to share it. Yes, it took me this long to not be angry.

Dear Sir,

I would like to enter into an intellectual discussion about your religious beliefs and my homosexuality. Yes, in case you didn’t know, I am a lesbian. Which means that L is a lesbian, too. But you know that, I’m just being sarcastic.

L and I have been in a monogamous relationship for 22 years. That means we started dating when you were just 8 years old. We met in Philadelphia through a newspaper ad. Do you know that story? I doubt it. I’ll spare you the details but the gist of it is we both were looking for friends, not a partner, but we got both. Which is the neat thing about our relationship.

In 1992, when you were just 10, we moved here to North Carolina. I’m from Tennessee and I really wanted to come home to the South. L left her home, her family, her life to come with me. That’s what committed couples do.

In 2000, we had a church ceremony where we renewed the vows we had said to each other. That means you were 18 and probably out of high school by then. It wasn’t really a wedding since that wasn’t possible for us. Our initial vows were said with no one around and we decided we really wanted to do this out loud, with witnesses and family. Because, again, that’s what committed couples want to do.

We are lucky in that we have the support of both our families. My niece and nephew call L their aunt. Just the thought of that makes her cry sometimes.

Which brings me to the point of this discussion. You and the others in this state made L cry that day. Not necessarily that Amendment One passed, but that you were all so happy about it. She went to bed Tuesday night a normal person but woke up Wednesday morning as a second class citizen. Someone who was lesser than most. Someone who could now be looked down upon by the government of a state she has come to love. That we both have loved. And still do, really. Then she goes to work and all y’all do all morning is congratulate each other. With her standing there. Take everything else away and that right there will be something you will answer to when you stand before God. Think hard on what you will say to God at that moment. (“Yes, God, I pushed people away from you in order to prove my faith, not theirs.”)

The point to the amendment was to make it more official that marriage be defined as a relationship between a man and a woman. That fact already existed in a state law but the constitutional amendment meant it would be more difficult – as in more expensive – for it to be removed. That means that you, as one who voted for this, will also later be paying to have it removed. Because it will be removed. Even one of the originators of it admitted he doubts it will last ten years (I see it lasting less than that). Just look at the expensive trials California has gone through. That’ll be your tax dollars at work. Even now, I smile when I think of it. I don’t mind my tax dollars going toward it at all because, unlike you and so many others, I believe in equality and the separation of Church and State.

I have some questions for you, sir. Questions I need answers to. See, I have a big problem with religion being used as a reason to make people “less than”. Mostly because I thought religion (in this case, Christianity) was to bring people up, closer to God, not push them down. I thought this nation was created by people who wanted religious freedom. Not that they wanted to worship a way no one else wanted them to, nor wanted everyone to worship the way they did, but that the Church at that time was very corrupt and had gotten too involved in politics. So they left England and came to a new country to start over again. The concept of religion being used for politics means we’ve come around in a big, nasty circle.

So here are my questions:

How does my relationship with L, our 22 year relationship at this point, in any way impede on your relationship to your wife? How does it impede the marriage of anyone else other than our own? How would our marriage erode the “institution” of marriage? You may use religious beliefs to answer this question but be prepared for more. Because your belief system does not give you the right to force it on me, in my own bedroom. Don’t quote me any verses from Leviticus unless you are ready to say yes, you obey all of them yourself (does your wife sleep in a red tent when she is menstruating? do you wear clothing of mixed cloth? would you sell your daughter to pay a debt?). Besides, Jesus the Christ came to do away with those man-made laws. So unless you are Jewish, those don’t apply. And don’t quote me anything by Paul. His chapters are letters to specific churches addressing specific problems. And most of his references are wrong. Romans, for example, has several errors (contradictions to Genesis). And Paul was….weird. He was all about sex and circumcision. I would think folks would worry about anything he had to say.

Did you know that Matthew, one of the disciples, was a tax collector? Now, in our times, that’s not a big deal. But in their time, it was huge. There weren’t many people lower than tax collectors except shepherds and fishermen. Jesus the Christ went to Matthew’s house and had a meal. That was a big no-no. To eat with someone unclean was considered a huge sin (and required a lot of rituals to get clean again). But Jesus did it. He didn’t think Matthew was less than him. He saw Matthew as a child of God. Speaking of fishermen, did you know they fished naked? It was easier, see. They didn’t have washing machines so when out on their fishing boats, they went naked. And because fishing was a nasty profession, fishers were very less than. When Jesus approached the fishermen who were to be his disciples, they were naked. Jesus didn’t turn his back and wait for them to wash and put on clothes before he spoke to them, he accepted them for who they were – naked, stinking fishermen. So when they got up and followed him, they were still naked. Of course you know that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, right? Jesus loved her anyway. She was the one who saw the empty tomb first. A lowly prostitute did not doubt that Jesus had rose again. She had to convince the male disciples though. And when Jesus was born, who did the angels come to? Shepherds. Shepherds were the lowest of low. They actually lived in the field with the sheep. Have you ever been around sheep? Can you imagine being around them almost year round? Nasty things. Greasy and oily and smelly. So you can guess how the shepherds smelled! Yet, they were the first ones to see the baby Jesus.

My point to the above paragraph is: To be a Christian means to be Christ-like. That is your primary goal, or should be. By the way, Christ was not Jesus’ name. It was his title. Christ is a from the Greek word Kristos which means “anointed one”. In Hebrew, the anointed was to be the māšīaḥ, the chosen one. It is where we get the word “Messiah”. Jesus said he was the anointed one which made him the Kristos, or the Christ. So in reality, Christians are really Jesusians but Christians is easier to say. I digress again.

If being a Christian is to be Christ-like, to be Jesus-like, how does your enthusiasm for making us less than you in any way meet that? How does stopping us from marrying considered Christ-like? Because trust me, you aren’t bringing any of us closer to God. You are pushing many of us away. Even if you don’t like us, your primary goal as a Christian is to bring folks to God. In that, you have failed horribly.

And this is the most important question of all: How is it any of your business who I marry? With as much energy as you and the others put into this, you could have done so much more in God’s name. Will preventing L and I from marrying keep people from divorcing? From marrying the wrong person? Will you now make an amendment to stop divorce? Have you ever counted the number of biblical laws against that? Will you start picketing in front of divorce lawyer offices? Will you petition to have a 20 day waiting period before people can get married? Will you petition to make sure they are sober and sane? Jesus said to not point out the mote in your neighbor’s eye when you have a plank in your own. Who I choose to marry is a mote. What is your plank?

Jesus said there are two laws that truly matter: Love your God with all your heart and Love your neighbor as you love yourself. How does this amendment do either one of these? How does your discrimination help anyone to love God more? How does it help you love God more? If that is how you see God, then you and I don’t follow the same deity. Or is it that you don’t love yourself very much?

Jesus was all about love. About showing kindness to everyone, even nasty fishermen and tax collectors. He showed them God’s love by being their friend. You and the others who voted for this amendment do not show God’s love at all. It shows your love for your own pride and your own ego. How many people do you think the passage of this amendment brought to God? How many young people are now sitting in their rooms, terrified? Not terrified of going to hell, but terrified their parents will kick them out? How many people in this state are leaving God’s flock versus coming to it?

The one time Jesus got really frustrated, really angry, was in the Temple. It was Passover and folks came to worship at the Temple and to give sacrifices. This meant they either brought a critter with them or they bought one there. Then they cut its throat so the blood showed God their faith. Creepy but that’s what they did. The money changers were folks who exchanged Greek or Roman coins for Jewish coins. However, the exchange rate was not good. So first they had to exchange their money then they spent that money for a sacrifice. Jesus did not like this at all. It did nothing for the glory of God but instead lined the pockets of the rabbis and priests and the money changers. And Jesus absolutely freaked. He freaked over the making the Temple a ‘den of thieves’ instead of a place of worship. What’s that story got to do with this? It shows that when Jesus got the angriest, it was not at the naked fishermen. Nor the prostitute. Nor the tax collector. Nor the hungry who followed him. Nor the sick that came to him to be healed. Nor the children. Nor the Roman guards. No, he got mad at those who ran the church.

Meanwhile, I will carry on with my life, loving the woman who has my heart. You can make her cry. You can make her miserable, but you can’t have her heart. Continue on with yours, setting such a lovely example with your bigotry and hate. You can say you don’t hate us. You can say you aren’t a bigot. But you are both. You and all the others just like you.

Answer my questions, sir, so that I may understand my enemy better.

bookmark_borderMoths, Shoulders, Chairs, and the American Way

A few months ago, I wrote about the pot smoking moth living in my attic. We’ve decided it’s switched to rolling its own cigarettes using whatever is on hand. This explains the smoke we smell every night between 9pm and 1am. Most of the time it smells like someone is burning trash. Nasty smell, by the way. I did have one moth actually land on my arm. I screamed like a girl and hit reverse while swatting it away. It landed under the monitor and when Lorna got finished laughing at me, she went to find it (I was out in the hall way). She never found it. I know it is under there, staring at me, waiting until my attention is diverted and then WHAM, it will land on me again. They like hearing me scream, by the way. Apparently “FUCK!” screamed just right is like crack to them.

My shoulder is no better. No worse, either. I guess that’s good. I can type longer now because I have everything so supported. A towel flat here, a rolled up towel there, lean in that direction…blah blah blah. I can type and that’s all I care about. We’ll be calling the doc about medication changes and probably going to see a massage therapist or whatever.

I am also due for a new wheelchair. I went the other day to the seating clinic where they measured and discussed what I am eligible for. And since Medicare probably won’t be around for much longer (depending on how the election turns out), we’re pushing to get as much done as we can, while we can. The big difference is we are going to try and get power leg lift. Meaning the leg rests raise and lower at the push of a button versus a bend to the side, pull out the knob, push down with feet while also pushing up or down. Pain. In. The. Ass. Monster Blue (my current chair) is a Permobil C300. The new one will be a Permobil M300. No clue what happened to D through L. Oh, and it will be silver with grey mesh seat covers. The M300 is a true mid-wheel drive vs the front wheel drive I have now. It turned better corners because there’s not wheels sticking so far out the back. And it goes in a very tight circle. And it will be silver.

And the American Way. It’s election year. Yay. All I’m saying about that. Except this: vote. Don’t care who you vote for (well, I really do but…) just as long as you vote. You don’t vote, don’t bitch later.

Oh, okay, one more thing on the election. All I hear is how the Medicare cuts won’t be affecting those over 55. That’s all cool for them but what about the rest of us? Primarily, what about those who are on Medicare because they are disabled? I dream of being able to return to work (not happening unless I am miraculously healed by a Bible wielding snake handling mouth foaming Pentecostal brethren named Brother Bob). I dream of writing enough books (and selling them!) that I earn enough to be considered gainfully employed. Hell, I’d love it if I could be put on Lorna’s insurance and get off of the limiting, embarrassing, controlling, bloated, paying-far-too-much-for-stuff Medicare.

All right. That’s enough for now.

Oh! Crap! I forgot one thing. I broke 100K on the novel! Of course, barely half of it makes sense but still. So I raised the goal to 120K. Editing will be fun.

bookmark_borderThe Fun of Being Me

Remember just a few days ago when I said I needed organization? And how after 20 minutes of work I was already done for the day?

I hurt my left shoulder some how. Could be just coincidence. It could be something is up with my pillow. It could be the arm of my chair is too low. Or it could be the hour or so of sitting in a new chair (demo) while they arranged and tested out and measured. Or it could be the fact my shoulder is attached to me. It is usually the right shoulder that gives me grief so maybe the left got jealous.

I’ve got a towel under my elbow to lift it up a little higher which is helping slightly. I’ve got my way cool split keyboard and I can put left half under my left hand wherever it needs to be. However, I can only type for a few minutes at a time. Just the tension of the forearm and the slight movement of the shoulder starts spasms from the bicep up to the back of my head. It’s too damn hot for the heating pad. And ice is not what it needs. Sometimes I just get tired of all the adaptions and arranging of stuff I gotta do just to exist.

All sorts of other stuff are going on, too. My chair cushion and backrest are well past their expiration date and I’m sure that’s not helping any.

I’m in a bad mood. I’m on the brink of depression. Someone in the neighborhood likes to burn stuff (mostly trash) between 9pm and 11pm nearly every night so the office smells like smoke. The joy just continues.

However I have over 94K written in the next novel.

bookmark_borderAsheville in the News

Yay! We made the Wall Street Journal!

Is it good or bad, though?

Asheville, N.C. Debates: How Weird is Too Weird?
Topless Rally Raises Eyebrows, Questions

This city has made a name for itself as a tourist and retirement haven, known for its arts festivals, spiritual retreats and welcoming culture.

But a topless rally here Sunday prompted even locals who want to “Keep Asheville Weird” to question if weird is a sustainable economic model, especially in a downturn.

“Being strange is one of the things we have in our favor, that people feel comfortable here,” said Patti Best, who sells her paintings in downtown galleries. But Ms. Best said she worries about blurring the line between being accepting and being offensive. “Asheville has a lot of attraction for families, and they aren’t going to come to a place that’s veering so far out of the mainstream,” she said.

(…)

sheville was among a number of cities hosting Go Topless Day rallies on Sunday, the anniversary of the adoption of the U.S. Constitution’s 19th amendment, which gave women the right to vote. The Go Topless Day event was founded in 2007 by the Raelian spiritual movement, which believes human beings were created perfect by extraterrestrial scientists. Their slogan: “Free your breasts, free your mind.” Still, most of the woman participating here and in other places across the country are not adherents of the Raelian movement.

(…)

David Roat shrugged as they passed by the busy corner where he was writing custom limericks. “Look,” he said, pointing. “You’ve got a cat over there who’s juggling a pipe wrench, a bowling ball and a knife. There’s a guy in a nun’s suit riding around on a tall bike. That’s Asheville.”

(bolding is mine)

source: Wall Street Journal

comic about the rally: Mountain XPress comic
Photos of the participants: NSFW!! Photos of GoTopless
Another rally being held at the same time: A Different Kind of Protest

We moved here in 1990. That year we attended Bele Chere, a cool event downtown. We went with Lorna’s parents and got separated from them. We decided to just sit and watch the people go by for a while. And boy howdee did we see some people. If there has ever been a fashion fad, it walked by (bell bottoms; plaid pants; spiked, colored hair…). If there was ever a kink that can be displayed in public, it went by (woman wearing leather shorts so small they were molded to her butt, with leather boots higher than her knees, a leather vest with nothing underneath, was ‘walking’ a man wearing a a leash attached to his leather spiked collar, leather pants molded to his genitalia, and boots up to his knees). It was strange. And we fell in love with this place.

bookmark_borderOrganization Part Do

See the pun I made?

Anyway, I worked for a grand total of 24 minutes before my back and hip was hurting to the point I could no longer bend over or lift.

Let’s see how long it takes me to recover so I can work some more.

And the problem with cleaning house is I usually make more of a mess than the one I was cleaning up. I now have several piles.

– To BestBuy (they recycle electronics for free)
– To Look Through (WTF is this for?)
– Stuff to Keep (Ah! That’s where that went! WTF is it for?)
– Magazines (do I really need that 2007 Diabetes Cooking magazine? The subscription we cancelled after just two issues?)
– Cardboard (everything is in boxes that is haphazardly stacked)
– Trash Can One (stuff that can be thrown away directly)
– Trash Pile Two (stuff that needs to be dealt with. Like the box with a huge mouse nest made out of two years worth of QST magazine. Why didn’t they use the Diabetes Cooking one?!)
– And a little pile of “Lorna Stuff”. Mostly stuff from pre-2000 that can safely be thrown away now. Right?