| It's been a good Fall for art. I sold three paintings and I won two awards. I feel good about the two shows that are concurrently running at the art place, am participating in just one other right now, but with plenty others on the horizon. Things are coming together, but I still have distinct feelings of being the new kid on the block. I suppose I am, but I would like some respect. I feel uneasy. In part, it's been problematic b/c I've suffered my fifth thyroid overdose, which makes one ravenous and gain even more weight, unable to sleep, agitated, mouthy, etc. I'm so ready for this to be over. As if. This week marks my four year anniversary of being diagnosed. Speaking of anniversaries, I missed my five year anniversary of this blog. I think of this so often, what I've so candidly spilled here. Sometimes I feel quite shy about having been so honest. This month, I resigned from the board position I'd held since April in a society I'd only joined last December. In the future, I must know the board cliques before I sign on. I came to realize that it was a group of little old ladies in tennis shoes and I had more lofty and professional aspirations than they did. Strange thing to me was that they had two shows a year, required attendance and reporting any absences to a board member, required committee work, and had a limit of the group to 30 so that the center could accommodate all of us for shows. Now these things seem like an organization interested in making shows both central and successful, but instead of a Show and Sale, they actually thought of it more like a Show and Tell. I could not devote so much time to nothingness anymore. There are other related niggles, but I'll give it a rest. Last week was good, this week is a muddle and I can't shut off my brain. My son is 12 and acting both 14 and 3. I learned at the parent-teacher conference that he treats his teachers like his mom, which isn't pretty as he rolls his eyes without rolling his eyes. It's time for treatment of his ADD to get his focus on and transition smooth, as his stubbornness and know-it-all-ness will only get worse. I am trying to find a doctor that takes ex's very well known insurance, but have not had luck as most take no insurance at all. The real progress is that ex actually agreed that something needs to happen. I really need to get on the stick with this. Bea and I are still chugging along. She can be such a sweet, helpful, and thoughtful person. Things had gotten very comfortable and I was happy, but last week I had a trust issue knock me back six months, a straw that broke the camel's back I will readily admit that I am jealous of her previous girlfriends with whom she was very generous. With me, she is quite tight and I feel like she has the warped idea that I should provide for her and us. Four times in our short relationship she has had the need to come to me for money, which is laughable. The third time was for over a month's time when she was being audited (for the third time) due to some mis-steps by her CPA, who will soon be convicted for embezzlement of some 20 clients. Last week was the last straw emotionally, as she discovered she'd over-spent her arbitrary monthly budget amount imposed by her new CPA, a budget which is only 7% of her INTEREST income, as she brings in a huge amount each month doing nothing. She felt it appropriate for me to bail her out with an advance from my credit card. Absolutely absurd. As I've carried on about before, she repays, sure she's good for it, but she gives no "thank you bonuses" which make it logical to lend to her. She's shot herself in the foot with this one. Like I said, we'd gotten to a very good place; I had given it up thinking about money and fairness, knowing that instead she'd bail me out when something big broke, like my water heater and brakes, but they're nowhere near what she is/has given others. Of course, the higher order concern now is her actually getting a house for us and me somehow living monetarily under someone who is so completely arbitrary and foolish. I need stability and not flurries of spending for which I have no reins, but I am still responsible somehow. I have the impression she's easy with everyone else (shouldn't I be treated at least the same as her parents and sisters?) and tight with me. Granted, part of the reason she went over budget-wise was buying art supplies for me for Xmas, which would seem nice, except most of it is not what I'd specifically requested when asked. They're large sets from brands I don't use and had ruled out. It really makes me feel bad...at a loss...confused...frustrated. I feel the victim of her midnight shopping sprees. I told my therapist yesterday that if she were a man, I'd be expecting a $20K diamond necklace or the like. The light went on for my therapist how expectations are somehow skewed b/c it's Bea instead. Really, I just want to feel special in the well communicated ways I'd like to feel special. She likes to dabble in my art "business," twice buying me boatloads of frames which weren't my style and I could use only maybe one third, so I actually gave them back to her. Then she went on an easel-buying spree, to include another of the regular outdoor working easel I already had, despite the fact that I sent her specific links and preferences to get a few for shows. Same with Xmas. Same with other little stuff when I have to tap dance and be appreciative. My business is my business. I need to steer it. Okay. Rant is over. This is my second, less angry draft, but it wound up just as long, but w/o so many details. She's coming tomorrow to avoid traffic. I don't want too cook, b/c that costs too much and I'd rather go out to eat. I fear the blow up. Hope you all have a great holiday. |
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Lifting a weight
Monday, September 14, 2009
What do you follow?
I'll readily admit that I don't check my email here all the time anymore. It would be a waste of effort.
However, I have begun to wonder about all these messages of being followed this place or that online. Paranoia aside, I'm not so sure these folks know me or care about my blog. I've visited a couple of their pages and they follow 15,000 other close friends, too.
What do you think about these Twitter and Twitter-like notifications? Who do you follow and am I missing something, my head in an Odorless Mineral Spirits fog?
PS - Baby fever has hit Bea even harder and I'm trying to figure a way to reconcile our diverse feelings. She's been better about the one thing at a time idea lately, so she knows I'd prefer getting other things secure first. She's young; she has some time. I do love her so. I wish I could give her what she wants.
However, I have begun to wonder about all these messages of being followed this place or that online. Paranoia aside, I'm not so sure these folks know me or care about my blog. I've visited a couple of their pages and they follow 15,000 other close friends, too.
What do you think about these Twitter and Twitter-like notifications? Who do you follow and am I missing something, my head in an Odorless Mineral Spirits fog?
PS - Baby fever has hit Bea even harder and I'm trying to figure a way to reconcile our diverse feelings. She's been better about the one thing at a time idea lately, so she knows I'd prefer getting other things secure first. She's young; she has some time. I do love her so. I wish I could give her what she wants.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Down to a crawl
I called a clinic today. I'd sought by email a few referrals, got none, so I climbed the long ladder to the high dive alone.
And plunged.
I was quickly told that most places have a cut off of 42, but they have 45, actually until 46 arrives, so actually only about 13 months ago for me or about seven months before Bea and I met.
When I asked if they would just test, she said they might do a clomid challenge, but it didn't matter, because they would not use the information. She then referred me to their donor program.
At this point, I don't really can't embrace the thought of another child, but I absolutely and fully feel the pain Bea has in wanting another. I have been there. Bea's walls are induced, though; she is not infertile in the least. She has been pregnant a number of times with losses, but she has gotten pregnant both times the first time she tried with insemination. She mostly just doesn't want to be pregnant again, however if she used the donor vials she has, her son would have a full sibling.
I especially do not want her to decide to have a child with someone else and to have a visitation arrangement. That child would not feel like it would be mine. Then again, I honestly do not know if I could birth via donor egg and donor sperm and feel like it'd be mine. I don't want to birth a little stranger.
Of course, I did grow to love P's daughter, L, but I never considered her mine. With Bea's 4yo son, I know I could love and care for him, but he'd never be mine.
Seems, though, that something ripping your cooch to shreds should feel like it's yours.
I know people do donor stuff every day. I know some people are desperate enough for children to put aside their own genetics. I don't see that as me. J is a cousin of Thomas Jefferson and Jimmy Carter. I would not have any historical links or tales for a child born of a donor. For a genealogical geek like me, that plays large.
Last night, I did thumb through the donors online. They seemed like lovely women. Of course, I was quite critical of the writing samples. I'm such an intellectual geeky snob. Only one did art, but other things precluded her. I liked one, cute kid, but then she said he had a big nose.
I don't like shopping this way! It's ridiculous!
Bea is texting me about someplace else she found online. Pandora, I tell ya.
And plunged.
I was quickly told that most places have a cut off of 42, but they have 45, actually until 46 arrives, so actually only about 13 months ago for me or about seven months before Bea and I met.
When I asked if they would just test, she said they might do a clomid challenge, but it didn't matter, because they would not use the information. She then referred me to their donor program.
At this point, I don't really can't embrace the thought of another child, but I absolutely and fully feel the pain Bea has in wanting another. I have been there. Bea's walls are induced, though; she is not infertile in the least. She has been pregnant a number of times with losses, but she has gotten pregnant both times the first time she tried with insemination. She mostly just doesn't want to be pregnant again, however if she used the donor vials she has, her son would have a full sibling.
I especially do not want her to decide to have a child with someone else and to have a visitation arrangement. That child would not feel like it would be mine. Then again, I honestly do not know if I could birth via donor egg and donor sperm and feel like it'd be mine. I don't want to birth a little stranger.
Of course, I did grow to love P's daughter, L, but I never considered her mine. With Bea's 4yo son, I know I could love and care for him, but he'd never be mine.
Seems, though, that something ripping your cooch to shreds should feel like it's yours.
I know people do donor stuff every day. I know some people are desperate enough for children to put aside their own genetics. I don't see that as me. J is a cousin of Thomas Jefferson and Jimmy Carter. I would not have any historical links or tales for a child born of a donor. For a genealogical geek like me, that plays large.
Last night, I did thumb through the donors online. They seemed like lovely women. Of course, I was quite critical of the writing samples. I'm such an intellectual geeky snob. Only one did art, but other things precluded her. I liked one, cute kid, but then she said he had a big nose.
I don't like shopping this way! It's ridiculous!
Bea is texting me about someplace else she found online. Pandora, I tell ya.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Baby steps
I volunteered one thing the other night. I would get myself tested. Mentally, I will only go that far.
I will not deconstruct my wall and I will not get my hopes up.
In fact, I will hope that my eggs are past expiration. Perhaps that's an additional measure of closure that I can handle appropriately.
So now I am seeking a fertility clinic and dr in the DC area. If you have experience in such, please drop me a line or refer my question on. I am not up on the current batch of bloggers who might have knowledge.
Pshew.
Never in a million years thought I would put up a post like this after being left at the IVF alter by both a husband (1999) and a fiance (2005). Or that it would be a lesbian wanting it with me.
I will not deconstruct my wall and I will not get my hopes up.
In fact, I will hope that my eggs are past expiration. Perhaps that's an additional measure of closure that I can handle appropriately.
So now I am seeking a fertility clinic and dr in the DC area. If you have experience in such, please drop me a line or refer my question on. I am not up on the current batch of bloggers who might have knowledge.
Pshew.
Never in a million years thought I would put up a post like this after being left at the IVF alter by both a husband (1999) and a fiance (2005). Or that it would be a lesbian wanting it with me.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Old topic reborn
It's been almost a year since I brought up the topic of babies.
Bea wishes very much that we'd met several years ago. I could have been on the baby bandwagon.
In the past year, I have progressed past bandwagon to bandwhat? Of course, I don't coo over babies, but I largely don't covet them anymore, either.
Enter the multi-millionaire who can afford whatever she wants. She has a son through donor insemination and he's almost five. She wants another. She would consider a surrogate. She might consider her eggs. She just does not want to be pregnant again. She has a big heart and could love any child, to include an adoptive one.
However, if she had her way, she'd see me pregnant. If I were to be pregnant, I would have to use my eggs. My 47 year old eggs. Or she'd consider a surrogate. But I would want to breastfeed, which is best accomplished after a pregnancy.
She said if she got a surrogate, she'd want a live in surrogate who could be monitored.
She has a number of vials of the same donor semen. Still, she asked if I'd consider an African-American donor and I said I'd want another red head (as she carries on about what a pretty baby I made, who looks just like me), so she said her son's donor has red-headed children, too; this donor has had incredible success. If we were to do this, I'd prefer her son and the new baby to be half siblings together.
If I said yes. she would immediately begin the process.
How could I possibly let my guard down and hope again? It's too crazy. That wall was hard earned and built with blood, sweat, and tears.
Bea wishes very much that we'd met several years ago. I could have been on the baby bandwagon.
In the past year, I have progressed past bandwagon to bandwhat? Of course, I don't coo over babies, but I largely don't covet them anymore, either.
Enter the multi-millionaire who can afford whatever she wants. She has a son through donor insemination and he's almost five. She wants another. She would consider a surrogate. She might consider her eggs. She just does not want to be pregnant again. She has a big heart and could love any child, to include an adoptive one.
However, if she had her way, she'd see me pregnant. If I were to be pregnant, I would have to use my eggs. My 47 year old eggs. Or she'd consider a surrogate. But I would want to breastfeed, which is best accomplished after a pregnancy.
She said if she got a surrogate, she'd want a live in surrogate who could be monitored.
She has a number of vials of the same donor semen. Still, she asked if I'd consider an African-American donor and I said I'd want another red head (as she carries on about what a pretty baby I made, who looks just like me), so she said her son's donor has red-headed children, too; this donor has had incredible success. If we were to do this, I'd prefer her son and the new baby to be half siblings together.
If I said yes. she would immediately begin the process.
How could I possibly let my guard down and hope again? It's too crazy. That wall was hard earned and built with blood, sweat, and tears.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Honest evaluation
I don't drink very often anymore, just a beer with dinner out, because another thing I don't trust is my ability to judge properly about drinking. I hold my shit too well and I think last night qualifies as that. I perceive that I'm in more control than I am.
I came here to a safe place. I didn't do anything to get in trouble, but it bugs me that I pined over someone long gone. So I am embarrassed at the depth of emotion that leaked out.
I had kept my near hatred of him in place until he started checking my art blog. The first time in late June was an aberration to me. He only stayed 90 seconds, didn't even make it to the main page, but did exit via the profile, a frustrating page to me b/c it doesn't really serve a purpose. He arrived googling my full name, so it was pretty specific.
The second time was mid July and he didn't look much further than the first.
The third time was a few days after my (and his daughter's) birthday. He stayed six minutes and looked all over the place for the first time.
I know he's proud of me; he always appreciated my art and was very supportive, something I'm not genuinely getting now.
I think his drinking is in control b/c he's lost a significant amount of weight. He's down to what he weighed when we met.
He says in a note on fb in one of those list memes going around that his favorite vacation was Co-sta Rica. I don't see any evidence of them going, so I can only assume that was with me just a few months before I started this blog.
Of course, I don't know if he's checked my fb, but I did mention him with distain in a similar meme last fall. If he went back though my notes, he'd see that. I suspect he hasn't, though, b/c my art blog publishes there, too, and there'd be no reason to google my name to arrive at the art blog b/c the blog address is on every post. Then again, maybe that's why he stayed on the blog such a short time? I know he can see my fb, b/c I finally decided to join the local network, regardless of him, as a "see what you're missing" moment. I have it severely limited as to what a network person can access, but fb frustratingly doesn't include enough options to be blocked, like notes and pictures.
I was fine without him. Had checked his fb when I began last October and he didn't have one. I then checked in March and was surprised to see it, begun in January. I don't think I checked it again until he began looking at my art blog in June. You might remember I've been through this blog visit thing before with a (minor) ex checking the blog and it bugging me. After enough time elapsed, I sent it all to her in an email and there were no more visits.
Gosh, I desperately don't want to contact him, but I don't like where his visits put me.
I came here to a safe place. I didn't do anything to get in trouble, but it bugs me that I pined over someone long gone. So I am embarrassed at the depth of emotion that leaked out.
I had kept my near hatred of him in place until he started checking my art blog. The first time in late June was an aberration to me. He only stayed 90 seconds, didn't even make it to the main page, but did exit via the profile, a frustrating page to me b/c it doesn't really serve a purpose. He arrived googling my full name, so it was pretty specific.
The second time was mid July and he didn't look much further than the first.
The third time was a few days after my (and his daughter's) birthday. He stayed six minutes and looked all over the place for the first time.
I know he's proud of me; he always appreciated my art and was very supportive, something I'm not genuinely getting now.
I think his drinking is in control b/c he's lost a significant amount of weight. He's down to what he weighed when we met.
He says in a note on fb in one of those list memes going around that his favorite vacation was Co-sta Rica. I don't see any evidence of them going, so I can only assume that was with me just a few months before I started this blog.
Of course, I don't know if he's checked my fb, but I did mention him with distain in a similar meme last fall. If he went back though my notes, he'd see that. I suspect he hasn't, though, b/c my art blog publishes there, too, and there'd be no reason to google my name to arrive at the art blog b/c the blog address is on every post. Then again, maybe that's why he stayed on the blog such a short time? I know he can see my fb, b/c I finally decided to join the local network, regardless of him, as a "see what you're missing" moment. I have it severely limited as to what a network person can access, but fb frustratingly doesn't include enough options to be blocked, like notes and pictures.
I was fine without him. Had checked his fb when I began last October and he didn't have one. I then checked in March and was surprised to see it, begun in January. I don't think I checked it again until he began looking at my art blog in June. You might remember I've been through this blog visit thing before with a (minor) ex checking the blog and it bugging me. After enough time elapsed, I sent it all to her in an email and there were no more visits.
Gosh, I desperately don't want to contact him, but I don't like where his visits put me.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
I return to my outlet
I drank a bottle of wine tonight. Three Pinos or something from Trader Joe's.
It makes me honest.
I fucking still love Paul beyond any love I've ever had before, yet I never told him he was the love of my life like he told me constantly. It's been three years.
I check him often on Facebook, as in tonight.
He seems to be happily married, but....
he's checked my art blog three times in the last month or so from his office, so it is easily identifiable. He even downloaded a picture of my son playing his violin.
Thank goodness for my stat thingie.
I love him, regardless of what he's done.
I think he is still stuck on me. It is not a casual checking in.
His wife is ugly as dirt. I feel sorry for her. I can check her Facebook, too.
I feel sorry for Bea, as she will never measure up. I love her, but not with this passion and I fear her finding this blog.
I love Bea in an odd way. I do not trust her. She snoops through my stuff and my computer. I do not think she will ever really come through for me, the struggling artist and single mom. She's paid her ex over $600,000 in the last six weeks. Just because. She refuses to help me and I am going in the hole, near bankruptcy b/c I decided to pursue the life of an artist and all the costs that brings. It feels absurd to be partners with a multimillionaire when you're about to seek credit counseling. She constantly insists she cares, yet she always services her exes time and again before me.
She is too fucking stupid to appreciate anything intellectual. She is ghetto. Her family is ghetto. They use her and she services them at all hours. Her sister has AIDS and fucks whatever moves, yet Bea does not report her.
Contrasting this, Paul is the quickest brain I ever met, next to his brilliant daughter.
Just like it makes me cry that Memph is gone and can't watch Top Chef with me, I cry because I can no longer be with or trust Paul. But I long to.
So this is my drunken rant that isn't too drunk b/c I could easily drink another bottle.
This is me.
It makes me honest.
I fucking still love Paul beyond any love I've ever had before, yet I never told him he was the love of my life like he told me constantly. It's been three years.
I check him often on Facebook, as in tonight.
He seems to be happily married, but....
he's checked my art blog three times in the last month or so from his office, so it is easily identifiable. He even downloaded a picture of my son playing his violin.
Thank goodness for my stat thingie.
I love him, regardless of what he's done.
I think he is still stuck on me. It is not a casual checking in.
His wife is ugly as dirt. I feel sorry for her. I can check her Facebook, too.
I feel sorry for Bea, as she will never measure up. I love her, but not with this passion and I fear her finding this blog.
I love Bea in an odd way. I do not trust her. She snoops through my stuff and my computer. I do not think she will ever really come through for me, the struggling artist and single mom. She's paid her ex over $600,000 in the last six weeks. Just because. She refuses to help me and I am going in the hole, near bankruptcy b/c I decided to pursue the life of an artist and all the costs that brings. It feels absurd to be partners with a multimillionaire when you're about to seek credit counseling. She constantly insists she cares, yet she always services her exes time and again before me.
She is too fucking stupid to appreciate anything intellectual. She is ghetto. Her family is ghetto. They use her and she services them at all hours. Her sister has AIDS and fucks whatever moves, yet Bea does not report her.
Contrasting this, Paul is the quickest brain I ever met, next to his brilliant daughter.
Just like it makes me cry that Memph is gone and can't watch Top Chef with me, I cry because I can no longer be with or trust Paul. But I long to.
So this is my drunken rant that isn't too drunk b/c I could easily drink another bottle.
This is me.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Take that!
I was recently shocked to see the 10 year anniversary advertisements for The Tigger Movie. It's tough to think nostalgically in a commercial sense for the very first movie you took your son to see. 10 years? I think it was yesterday! And he sat through it beautifully, although he was less than two.
(BTW, my first movie was Bambi and I distinctly remember Thumper bounding on screen and Flower peering up through the colorful meadow.)
In honor of J's 10th cinematic viewing anniversary, I present Sammy and a McDonald's Pooh from that era. Sorry, but sweet Pooh doesn't stand a chance against these moves.
(BTW, my first movie was Bambi and I distinctly remember Thumper bounding on screen and Flower peering up through the colorful meadow.)
In honor of J's 10th cinematic viewing anniversary, I present Sammy and a McDonald's Pooh from that era. Sorry, but sweet Pooh doesn't stand a chance against these moves.
The Eye Vacuum
The Rabbit Kick
The Chenille Drag
The Butt Bite
The Sleeping Head Rest
Saturday, August 08, 2009
Out with the old
Although Bea did the preparations for us early in the week, J and I finally buried Sad.ie and Memph yesterday afternoon.
Sad.ie had been frozen for almost 2.5 years in a taxidermy snafu. I'd frozen Memphie as soon as I found him last weekend. There was room for little else in my freezer.
Once we got them outside, J wanted to open up the boxes. Sad.ie was as beautiful as the day she died. I remember her looking so horrible then, but she was so luxurious and just as I always wanted to remember, but had not been able. Although I was scared that opening the box would bring her too close, it actually made me feel better.
I wish I had warned J about opening up Memph's box. He was in full rigor when I found him, so it was a rather large box. Rigor is most pronounced in the smaller muscles, so the face is grossly affected. Memph looked like he'd been tortured by demons, but thank goodness J missed most of it by being on the opposite side. I explained about rigor mortis and J didn't have nightmares as far as I know.
Bea's hole in the backyard was perfect and the boxes fit side by side. J and I remarked about what great cats they both were and then we covered them with dirt.
By 11pm, I was crawling out of my skin antsy. I called Bea to tell her that it is taking everything I have to not dig up Sad.ie. She was just fine in my freezer and there was no reason to get rid of her. All day, I'd thought about her new environment, her thawing, her getting invaded, and her box caving in. It is gruesome and morbid.
I know I'm odd. I want to grave rob my own cat. I was fully expecting more cat pee between my pillows.
Sad.ie had been frozen for almost 2.5 years in a taxidermy snafu. I'd frozen Memphie as soon as I found him last weekend. There was room for little else in my freezer.
Once we got them outside, J wanted to open up the boxes. Sad.ie was as beautiful as the day she died. I remember her looking so horrible then, but she was so luxurious and just as I always wanted to remember, but had not been able. Although I was scared that opening the box would bring her too close, it actually made me feel better.
I wish I had warned J about opening up Memph's box. He was in full rigor when I found him, so it was a rather large box. Rigor is most pronounced in the smaller muscles, so the face is grossly affected. Memph looked like he'd been tortured by demons, but thank goodness J missed most of it by being on the opposite side. I explained about rigor mortis and J didn't have nightmares as far as I know.
Bea's hole in the backyard was perfect and the boxes fit side by side. J and I remarked about what great cats they both were and then we covered them with dirt.
By 11pm, I was crawling out of my skin antsy. I called Bea to tell her that it is taking everything I have to not dig up Sad.ie. She was just fine in my freezer and there was no reason to get rid of her. All day, I'd thought about her new environment, her thawing, her getting invaded, and her box caving in. It is gruesome and morbid.
I know I'm odd. I want to grave rob my own cat. I was fully expecting more cat pee between my pillows.
Friday, August 07, 2009
In with the new
As I said, I knew Memphie was on his way out since the end of June.
I also knew of kittens born on June 5. I did not want one. I was really looking forward to only three cats using the litter boxes. I would own so many cats if it weren't for the litter box.
Three hours from me, this litter of kittens was born to Bea's ex's household from a stray they'd only adopted a few month earlier. To call these people white trash would be a compliment. They are ignorant and malicious. Within four weeks, five of the six kittens were dead. Bea crawled under the house after a deluge to save the last one, the day after the remaining three had been put out by the owners, and I use that term loosely.
The mother cat had already largely abandoned the kittens, as she was an outdoor cat without free access indoors. The kittens had lived inside and were exposed to people, to include children too young to understand handling them.
Bea bottle fed the last kitten for almost a week. Can you believe that you can buy kitten feeding supplies and dehydrated cat's milk at Wal-Mart?
She then transitioned the kitten to food fit for a kitten. She was a good mom, however she and her roommate continued to "play" with the kitten quite roughly, appropriately calling it an ankle biter. Apparently it was used to being played with that way, so Bea kept it up.
I guess you know where all this is going. She brought the cat to me 10 days ago, so for a few days I had five cats. Who knows? Maybe the little monster is what put Memph over the edge.
When I realized that the cat would be coming to me a few weeks ago, I named him/her/it Sammy/Sammie, as it was a name that could go either way, b/c they had no clue of the sex. Turns out, it is a Sammy. He is a beautiful gray that looks different shades from different angles, so very much like Sad.ie, except he completely lacks the composure she had as a kitten.
I said I would take him if Bea pays for the spay and shots. She agreed and said she'd do a one year plan at Banfield, too - not that I'm crazy about Banfield, but it would cover most everything Sammy would need without me worrying.
In addition to minimizing any testosterone in his aggressive system, I wanted Sammy spayed young so as to ensure it is done, as Bea too often fails to come through on what she says. We went to the vet that Sad.ie went to, b/c the (errant) receptionist said they'd spay early, whereas Banfield was trying to get me an appt for late October. During the appt when I told the vet I wanted him spayed early, she declined, then I protested with reason, then they said they'd consider it, as they do spay early with rescues they do. I figured out they fix the unattached kittens early, not the ones who are already pets, in case something happens.
Anyway, during the exam, the vet made the mistake of putting her finger too close to Sammy's face and he lit in, drew blood, shook his head, and growled. She called him "Devil Child" and labeled him hyperactive.
That's Sammy, but I am working hard on the kitten biting and other behaviors. He's people socialized, but was taunted, and he wasn't cat socialized enough to know when enough is enough. It's like he's feral, but he's not. He wants to be around so he can bite and scratch, play that could be cute as a kitten, but cannot be written off as an adult.
I have never purchased so many cat toys. Our motto around here is, "Skin is not a toy." We substitute, we redirect, we scruff like a mother cat would, we isolate, we walk away. We are the behaviorists. And it is working somewhat. He still nips, but he doesn't bite unless he gets angry, at which time he goes zero to 60 on the Anger Meter, another typical behavior for this sort of kitten. The other three cats were very fearful, but now they just whap him if he gets out of line. They have begun to play chase me/chase you, so that's a great sign. We all know our jobs in dealing with him.
Although the vet says that some cats stay overly frisky (aka mean), particularly the ones bottle fed and not having the mother cat's influence, I do think Sammy is being retrained and will perhaps grow out of the rest. For now, all I can say is thank goodness they trimmed his nails so well!
His blue eyes have turned greenish in the last week; he's a very handsome chap.
Ah, don't let him fool you. Yesterday, he napped for one hour in the afternoon and one in the evening. Bea actually crated him like a dog and told him when to take naps. I may use that approach. I do love that he's chosen my fuzzy robe as his favorite bed.
Of course, J is absolutely smitten...and bears the scratches to prove it.
Sammy is nine weeks old today.
I also knew of kittens born on June 5. I did not want one. I was really looking forward to only three cats using the litter boxes. I would own so many cats if it weren't for the litter box.
Three hours from me, this litter of kittens was born to Bea's ex's household from a stray they'd only adopted a few month earlier. To call these people white trash would be a compliment. They are ignorant and malicious. Within four weeks, five of the six kittens were dead. Bea crawled under the house after a deluge to save the last one, the day after the remaining three had been put out by the owners, and I use that term loosely.
The mother cat had already largely abandoned the kittens, as she was an outdoor cat without free access indoors. The kittens had lived inside and were exposed to people, to include children too young to understand handling them.
Bea bottle fed the last kitten for almost a week. Can you believe that you can buy kitten feeding supplies and dehydrated cat's milk at Wal-Mart?
She then transitioned the kitten to food fit for a kitten. She was a good mom, however she and her roommate continued to "play" with the kitten quite roughly, appropriately calling it an ankle biter. Apparently it was used to being played with that way, so Bea kept it up.
I guess you know where all this is going. She brought the cat to me 10 days ago, so for a few days I had five cats. Who knows? Maybe the little monster is what put Memph over the edge.
When I realized that the cat would be coming to me a few weeks ago, I named him/her/it Sammy/Sammie, as it was a name that could go either way, b/c they had no clue of the sex. Turns out, it is a Sammy. He is a beautiful gray that looks different shades from different angles, so very much like Sad.ie, except he completely lacks the composure she had as a kitten.
I said I would take him if Bea pays for the spay and shots. She agreed and said she'd do a one year plan at Banfield, too - not that I'm crazy about Banfield, but it would cover most everything Sammy would need without me worrying.
In addition to minimizing any testosterone in his aggressive system, I wanted Sammy spayed young so as to ensure it is done, as Bea too often fails to come through on what she says. We went to the vet that Sad.ie went to, b/c the (errant) receptionist said they'd spay early, whereas Banfield was trying to get me an appt for late October. During the appt when I told the vet I wanted him spayed early, she declined, then I protested with reason, then they said they'd consider it, as they do spay early with rescues they do. I figured out they fix the unattached kittens early, not the ones who are already pets, in case something happens.
Anyway, during the exam, the vet made the mistake of putting her finger too close to Sammy's face and he lit in, drew blood, shook his head, and growled. She called him "Devil Child" and labeled him hyperactive.
That's Sammy, but I am working hard on the kitten biting and other behaviors. He's people socialized, but was taunted, and he wasn't cat socialized enough to know when enough is enough. It's like he's feral, but he's not. He wants to be around so he can bite and scratch, play that could be cute as a kitten, but cannot be written off as an adult.
I have never purchased so many cat toys. Our motto around here is, "Skin is not a toy." We substitute, we redirect, we scruff like a mother cat would, we isolate, we walk away. We are the behaviorists. And it is working somewhat. He still nips, but he doesn't bite unless he gets angry, at which time he goes zero to 60 on the Anger Meter, another typical behavior for this sort of kitten. The other three cats were very fearful, but now they just whap him if he gets out of line. They have begun to play chase me/chase you, so that's a great sign. We all know our jobs in dealing with him.
Although the vet says that some cats stay overly frisky (aka mean), particularly the ones bottle fed and not having the mother cat's influence, I do think Sammy is being retrained and will perhaps grow out of the rest. For now, all I can say is thank goodness they trimmed his nails so well!
His blue eyes have turned greenish in the last week; he's a very handsome chap.
Ah, don't let him fool you. Yesterday, he napped for one hour in the afternoon and one in the evening. Bea actually crated him like a dog and told him when to take naps. I may use that approach. I do love that he's chosen my fuzzy robe as his favorite bed.Of course, J is absolutely smitten...and bears the scratches to prove it.Sammy is nine weeks old today.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
RIP Memph
Memphie died over the weekend. He was the best cat, so gentle and affectionate.He had a tumor in his abdomen which I first felt about a month ago. It was confirmed by the vet, who wanted to put him to sleep on the spot. I declined, as Memph as too much life in him. Up until the end, he jumped on top of the high kitchen cabinets. He was eating like the dickens, although his hips had carved out, while the tumor bulged like a pregnancy.
We went away Friday through Sunday and I knew I'd be putting him down this week. However, I returned on my birthday to find him dead on the floor.
He was such a sweet cat, he allowed me not have to take him in. Doing that with Sad.ie ranks among the hardest thing I've had to do as an adult.
J isn't home again yet from his dad's. At present, I have two dead cats in my freezer. This happening gives me the opportunity to no longer "wait" on ex to pay for Sad.ie's taxidermy, as it has been almost 2.5 years. They'll be buried together, which is fitting, as they were both incredible cats and I got him only 10 days after she died.
I shed my tears already in this process. Honestly, I am glad I had so long to say goodbye. He was a sweetheart, my secret admirer.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
I venture back here
I didn't drop off the face of the planet!
...for any friends still reading...
I have been painting a good bit, but I haven't been blogging that, either.
I really hate blogs to exist mostly for times of stress and the good times are skipped and I desperately do not want this long-term investment I have here to become that.
My relationship with Bea is troubled, but she is resolute about making it work. I am on the fence. About the many things she promises, I feel like they're carrots on strings, as she has not come through on any of it. However, I can honestly say that she has had the worst upbringing that I have ever heard of and she desperately wants to put that behind her, but I think I am bringing her realizations of the baggage she has and now wants to work on. I'm a fer piece from high class, but she is from the ghetto. Although we have broken up twice, we are considering couples therapy, her suggestion. She is a sweet person with a big heart, but she needs to trust me and to come through on what she says.
My son is doing very well. He's in a nature camp with a friend this week. He finished his second year of violin, but he's less and less willing. Against his wishes, I signed him up for that camp this summer, too, although he will miss a lot of that due to his greatest new love, Boy Scouts and Summer Camp. It could be worse. He's still the quiet, demure guy, but he shows such tenacity, resolve, and composure as a new Scout that I get compliments on him all the time. Alas, if only he were so cooperative with me!
Bea did surprise us by buying him a pre-paid phone last week and he's really enjoying that. I loved it today, b/c my new phone died last night and I got a replacement today, but the phone number transfer didn't work from the SIM card and I was left in the cold today. It'd be so much easier if I could just remember phone numbers!
Painting is going well. Although me showing in public was new in January, I have loved being able to do it. I routinely have three pieces in the gallery, plus now have a coffee shop, library (I have a solo wall next month!), senior center, and government center for exhibits. Selling isn't the thing; creating and displaying are. It lights a fire on me to need to produce. Just next week, I will be hanging 10 pieces in two locations. So exciting. I am enamoured with pure landscapes and painting en plein air. It charges me.
I wish Bea would understand and respect it more, as there are lots of weekend conflicts with opportunities to paint and go to workshops.
Now if only I could come through on another block. So sorry, Val. I have not forgotten you.
If you read the art blog, or the lack thereof lately, don't consider it dead, either. I've been painting instead of photographing paintings or writing. I'll have an inspired day soon and post a number in one day.
Next month, I fly to a family reunion with my mother's mother's family. It's the first time to have such a gathering outside a misc wedding or funeral. My son will be at Scout Camp, but I guess I'll do. Of course, they specifically request the kids. There's a measure of geneaolgy which a 2nd cousin is putting together, so I am looking forward to that angle: compiling about the living!
Three cats are doing well, but Memphie has lost a lot of weight recently and I am having flashbacks to Sa.die two years ago. He's had a check up and bloodwork done, but it is inconclusive as far as I know - just a low amylase, tiny high WBC, and high specific gravity. Hopefully, I talk to the vet again tomorrow about the thyroid. I go to Banfield, a chain, b/c they offer a pay-by-the month program and all office visits/vaccines are included. So far, I've only paid extra for the thyroid test, but I pay so much with time, miscommunication, absolute lack of communication, and plain ol' poor service or caring that I am considering a switch. They didn't notice that they kept a cat who has recently lost two whole pounds in a cage w/o food or water for 10.5h. I just don't see the compassion, but I don't know if all the locations are so over taxed.
I still talk to Lyd often. She started a physician-guided shake diet and has lost about 25 pounds. I am so proud of her for doing it. Her mother has spent all her lottery winnings for the year already, so they're back to normal, but do have a nice sun porch to show for it. Lyd is still hung up on me, but tries with all her might not to go there. Although she'd say she's weak, I think she is one of the strongest people I know. I should tell her.
I tried to get on Bloglines today to catch up a bit, but it wouldn't let me it. Feel free to lead me to any especially telling blog entries you've read or written in the last few months.
Now I'm telling myself, "Don't be a stranger!"
...for any friends still reading...
I have been painting a good bit, but I haven't been blogging that, either.
I really hate blogs to exist mostly for times of stress and the good times are skipped and I desperately do not want this long-term investment I have here to become that.
My relationship with Bea is troubled, but she is resolute about making it work. I am on the fence. About the many things she promises, I feel like they're carrots on strings, as she has not come through on any of it. However, I can honestly say that she has had the worst upbringing that I have ever heard of and she desperately wants to put that behind her, but I think I am bringing her realizations of the baggage she has and now wants to work on. I'm a fer piece from high class, but she is from the ghetto. Although we have broken up twice, we are considering couples therapy, her suggestion. She is a sweet person with a big heart, but she needs to trust me and to come through on what she says.
My son is doing very well. He's in a nature camp with a friend this week. He finished his second year of violin, but he's less and less willing. Against his wishes, I signed him up for that camp this summer, too, although he will miss a lot of that due to his greatest new love, Boy Scouts and Summer Camp. It could be worse. He's still the quiet, demure guy, but he shows such tenacity, resolve, and composure as a new Scout that I get compliments on him all the time. Alas, if only he were so cooperative with me!
Bea did surprise us by buying him a pre-paid phone last week and he's really enjoying that. I loved it today, b/c my new phone died last night and I got a replacement today, but the phone number transfer didn't work from the SIM card and I was left in the cold today. It'd be so much easier if I could just remember phone numbers!
Painting is going well. Although me showing in public was new in January, I have loved being able to do it. I routinely have three pieces in the gallery, plus now have a coffee shop, library (I have a solo wall next month!), senior center, and government center for exhibits. Selling isn't the thing; creating and displaying are. It lights a fire on me to need to produce. Just next week, I will be hanging 10 pieces in two locations. So exciting. I am enamoured with pure landscapes and painting en plein air. It charges me.
I wish Bea would understand and respect it more, as there are lots of weekend conflicts with opportunities to paint and go to workshops.
Now if only I could come through on another block. So sorry, Val. I have not forgotten you.
If you read the art blog, or the lack thereof lately, don't consider it dead, either. I've been painting instead of photographing paintings or writing. I'll have an inspired day soon and post a number in one day.
Next month, I fly to a family reunion with my mother's mother's family. It's the first time to have such a gathering outside a misc wedding or funeral. My son will be at Scout Camp, but I guess I'll do. Of course, they specifically request the kids. There's a measure of geneaolgy which a 2nd cousin is putting together, so I am looking forward to that angle: compiling about the living!
Three cats are doing well, but Memphie has lost a lot of weight recently and I am having flashbacks to Sa.die two years ago. He's had a check up and bloodwork done, but it is inconclusive as far as I know - just a low amylase, tiny high WBC, and high specific gravity. Hopefully, I talk to the vet again tomorrow about the thyroid. I go to Banfield, a chain, b/c they offer a pay-by-the month program and all office visits/vaccines are included. So far, I've only paid extra for the thyroid test, but I pay so much with time, miscommunication, absolute lack of communication, and plain ol' poor service or caring that I am considering a switch. They didn't notice that they kept a cat who has recently lost two whole pounds in a cage w/o food or water for 10.5h. I just don't see the compassion, but I don't know if all the locations are so over taxed.
I still talk to Lyd often. She started a physician-guided shake diet and has lost about 25 pounds. I am so proud of her for doing it. Her mother has spent all her lottery winnings for the year already, so they're back to normal, but do have a nice sun porch to show for it. Lyd is still hung up on me, but tries with all her might not to go there. Although she'd say she's weak, I think she is one of the strongest people I know. I should tell her.
I tried to get on Bloglines today to catch up a bit, but it wouldn't let me it. Feel free to lead me to any especially telling blog entries you've read or written in the last few months.
Now I'm telling myself, "Don't be a stranger!"
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Still looking: the review
I saw three houses today.
I described the first one in the entry below. It has a very large foyer/dining room/living room/curved staircase entry. It is very grand, but not a very practical use of space. The kitchen is impressive and worthy of the house. I wish it had a deck. Everything upstairs is good, to include the incredible master closets. The basement seems to have had a small flood, probably due to the entry well door having a bunch of leaves blocking the drain. There's a slight mildewy odor, but I don't think it is terminal. Much of the basement is dark, but that suits it being a media room very well. Under the whole front half of the house is a huge unfinished storage area. There was a lot of junk/clothes left around, so it was messy and not pristine, but that doesn't really matter.
The second house was much smaller, had a dining room, but no living room. It had two masters, but neither had more than a single small walk in closet. The basement was finished and well lit with a bedroom, but they only left about the size of a walk in closet unfinished for storage. It also almost backed to a busier road.
The third house was not in the neighborhood I wanted, but the realtor, who was very cool, wanted to see it for herself. It was grand and beautiful and on a very large lot backing to woods. The kitchen was spacious, but not huge or particularly open. It has a library, which would probably be the studio, and a large solarium, in addition to the family room.
It had five bedrooms upstairs and the master had double doors with two steps leading to them. There were two closets, but they were regular walk in size vs. the three large, successive closets in the first one. The master and sitting rooms were smaller, too, but still substantial. One bedroom smelled of smoke, as if it were the smoking room, but size-wise it would have to be for one of the boys, although it would have to use the nearby hall bath. One bedroom was a small throw away one, guess that would be the nursery if it weren't so far from the master. Another had its own bath and would have been great for one boy.
Downstairs painted the picture of why it is in foreclosure. It reeked of mold with a longstanding water problem; the carpeting was stained, but there didn't appear to be a water line on the wall. It is unfortunate. It had a great rec area and bar, a bedroom, and a study, which had a large 20x20 unfinished area off if it. There were also two other unfinished areas, each about 14x14.
This home was incredible and Bea would probably pay the preforeclosed price. Shoot, the thing was also on a cul de sac. Guess it was too perfect. Now the realtor is checking on the selling status of the first one and Bea is ready to do a home inspection on the first and last ones. It wouldn't cost much to figure out their problems.
Houses for sale are very difficult to come by in these parts.
Thanks for reading and commenting. I appreciate you hanging around. I seem to be only able to update one blog at a time; haven't done my art one in a month, although I do have some paintings and such to show.
Tomorrow is career day at school. I am the Resident Artist. Then I drive several hours to spend the weekend with Bea, then I drive back to pick up J on Sunday and drive a couple hours the other way to get a painting I left for a show three states away. Glad they're small states. So I won't be back home until Monday. Guess I need to get packing.
I described the first one in the entry below. It has a very large foyer/dining room/living room/curved staircase entry. It is very grand, but not a very practical use of space. The kitchen is impressive and worthy of the house. I wish it had a deck. Everything upstairs is good, to include the incredible master closets. The basement seems to have had a small flood, probably due to the entry well door having a bunch of leaves blocking the drain. There's a slight mildewy odor, but I don't think it is terminal. Much of the basement is dark, but that suits it being a media room very well. Under the whole front half of the house is a huge unfinished storage area. There was a lot of junk/clothes left around, so it was messy and not pristine, but that doesn't really matter.
The second house was much smaller, had a dining room, but no living room. It had two masters, but neither had more than a single small walk in closet. The basement was finished and well lit with a bedroom, but they only left about the size of a walk in closet unfinished for storage. It also almost backed to a busier road.
The third house was not in the neighborhood I wanted, but the realtor, who was very cool, wanted to see it for herself. It was grand and beautiful and on a very large lot backing to woods. The kitchen was spacious, but not huge or particularly open. It has a library, which would probably be the studio, and a large solarium, in addition to the family room.
It had five bedrooms upstairs and the master had double doors with two steps leading to them. There were two closets, but they were regular walk in size vs. the three large, successive closets in the first one. The master and sitting rooms were smaller, too, but still substantial. One bedroom smelled of smoke, as if it were the smoking room, but size-wise it would have to be for one of the boys, although it would have to use the nearby hall bath. One bedroom was a small throw away one, guess that would be the nursery if it weren't so far from the master. Another had its own bath and would have been great for one boy.
Downstairs painted the picture of why it is in foreclosure. It reeked of mold with a longstanding water problem; the carpeting was stained, but there didn't appear to be a water line on the wall. It is unfortunate. It had a great rec area and bar, a bedroom, and a study, which had a large 20x20 unfinished area off if it. There were also two other unfinished areas, each about 14x14.
This home was incredible and Bea would probably pay the preforeclosed price. Shoot, the thing was also on a cul de sac. Guess it was too perfect. Now the realtor is checking on the selling status of the first one and Bea is ready to do a home inspection on the first and last ones. It wouldn't cost much to figure out their problems.
Houses for sale are very difficult to come by in these parts.
Thanks for reading and commenting. I appreciate you hanging around. I seem to be only able to update one blog at a time; haven't done my art one in a month, although I do have some paintings and such to show.
Tomorrow is career day at school. I am the Resident Artist. Then I drive several hours to spend the weekend with Bea, then I drive back to pick up J on Sunday and drive a couple hours the other way to get a painting I left for a show three states away. Glad they're small states. So I won't be back home until Monday. Guess I need to get packing.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Life can move quickly
Yup. We're looking at a house not far from here and I'm being specific b/c of the schools - I've been through too many boundary meetings the past few years to err on this one. This home is huge, over 5K sq ft. I never in my dreams thought I could live in a house like that. With the market coming down, it's about 35% less than what it appraised at a few years ago.
What a bargain!
This one doesn't have as good of light as I'd want in the basement (hence, it's great as a Media Room, etc), so I'd claim the Library as my studio.
The Master Bedroom takes up half the upstairs.
I'm not completely crazy about the brick color (too light), but it has everything else and more.
Pinch me!
The kitchen is so large that it has room for five tall chairs and a table for six.
I would move out of my place, but retain it as a rental. It would need new carpet and such; Bea is fine with footing the bill.
Life is good.
I have plans for a bunch of Ethan Allen. My dining room furniture is from there and I love the lines.
I have never in my life had more than one couch. For the last seven years, I've only had a tattered love seat. This house has seven rooms that would take couches.
Jeez, where will I get the time to decorate? I will need to paint big stuff to fill the walls. And I want to buy paintings of my artist friends to fill the house with people I know.
It doesn't have a deck and I have plans for a wrap around one with a hot top and a fire pit. Bea is cool with it. She likes my ideas for configuring the bedrooms with the boys. The only thing I do not have planned is a nursery. That still has to stew a bit in my head. Any additional offspring would go in the 2nd largest bedroom (abnormally large, so could not let it go to one of the boys and not the other) which I had slotted as a kiddie game room.
Is this my life?
What a bargain!
This one doesn't have as good of light as I'd want in the basement (hence, it's great as a Media Room, etc), so I'd claim the Library as my studio.
The Master Bedroom takes up half the upstairs.
I'm not completely crazy about the brick color (too light), but it has everything else and more.
Pinch me!
The kitchen is so large that it has room for five tall chairs and a table for six.
I would move out of my place, but retain it as a rental. It would need new carpet and such; Bea is fine with footing the bill.
Life is good.
I have plans for a bunch of Ethan Allen. My dining room furniture is from there and I love the lines.
I have never in my life had more than one couch. For the last seven years, I've only had a tattered love seat. This house has seven rooms that would take couches.
Jeez, where will I get the time to decorate? I will need to paint big stuff to fill the walls. And I want to buy paintings of my artist friends to fill the house with people I know.
It doesn't have a deck and I have plans for a wrap around one with a hot top and a fire pit. Bea is cool with it. She likes my ideas for configuring the bedrooms with the boys. The only thing I do not have planned is a nursery. That still has to stew a bit in my head. Any additional offspring would go in the 2nd largest bedroom (abnormally large, so could not let it go to one of the boys and not the other) which I had slotted as a kiddie game room.
Is this my life?
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Children, money, and moving forward
Bea hasn't heard from the therapist again. Or the therapist's friend. If something is stirred up again, I'll write the letter. I think it is over now.
We had an incredible weekend together. I drove a few hours to see her. We talked a lot and I feel confident in who she is. I am trying to make her feel more confident in who she is as well. I think she understands me and how cautious I am. We have a great understanding of one another. She's overwelmed that she felt this way over me so soon, as it isn't her usual modus. I think it's to my credit that I am working slowly. In fact, I told her that I like her despite her the money.
Bea has a 4yo son who lives with her half the year, plus she visits often and talks to him daily. They even have a camera system and she can see him all the time.
Bea's ex from the time, Mimi, homeschools the boy and he's a sponge for it even this young. (My son is the opposite, so it's interesting to hear about.) They inseminated Bea and she was at first pregnant with twins, lost them, and got pregnant the next try with Mike. She was fine being pregnant and had a waterbirth because of Mimi's insistence about natural childbirth. Bea went along, but it made her never want to do it again. Ever.
She really wants more children and to have a normal family thing, is interested in adpotion. However, she is willing to pay for me to have IVF and to help, as she'd gone through similar when they tried to get Mimi pregnant. She suggested that I do it. She's wanting to try it with my own eggs, because it is my preference, at least at the outset.
The concept is blowing my mind. As I turned 45, I was largely able to turn off the baby desires. I felt it was impossible and I am actually proud that I could switch gears. I have been able to cringe much less with a baby in proximity; although not perfect, I considered myself almost emotionally healed from IF.
Now she's interested in me trying this. We would have equal legal rights, just as she gave her partner with Mike.
She has several vials left of the sperm used for Mike. Apparently it's a real commondity and people want to buy it. The donor has a great track record for producing children. Over the weekend, she asked me what I would want and I said I'd always wanted another redhead. She said she wouldn't want my ex-husband to donate and I agreed quickly. It would be interesting using the same donor she'd used before, as any new baby would be a half sibling with Mike as well as a half sibling through me for J.
I told her I would not do it right away. I do not like the thought of being engaged in this stuff near the outset of our relationship, when I'd rather be showing her Europe. With her money, though, it'd be possible to go with children and travel.
Anyway, Bea presents a lot of issues and opportunities. She wants to buy a house near me for the schools; I began looking and drove through my preferred neighborhood. That way, locally, I could still do my art thing the way I've carved it out the past few months. I keep thinking that I could have my cake and eat it too, that J could begin middle school in the location I'd prefer, that I could have a dedicated art studio with proper lighting and supplies, that I could have a baby with a partner who would actually be actively involved and sufficient enough to make it feel easier, that I could stay in this area and do all the things I love. The possibilities are endless. I could so the simple stuff I like and not worry. I could never be extravagent, yet I would be able to do so much simple stuff with such freedom.
I already have it worked out with her that before anything her money does jeopardizes my income, I will have a legal contract that my various incomes/insurances/home are protected and she'll be required to compensate me. She's said for herself that she does not require a prenup, but it's funny that me and my piddly interests do.
She gives free access to her ATMs etc. Her last ex went to the ATM daily and withdrew the max - that is, the max that Bea is allowed (like $5K or something) if she goes directly to the card's bank. Bea didn't mind that a bit. What's hers is her mate's.
She spoke of the Vermont laws which allow for outsiders to get married. The only quirk is upon breaking up, when a year's residence would be required during the separation. Apparently the Vermont law can be applied elsewhere, so that legal rights are conferred for hospital settings, financal concerns, family issues, etc. I would need to research this more, because I've assumed for a very long time that I would never remarry.
Although it doesn't sound like I am taking it slowly, I am. This is all in the hypothetical. I do not have my hopes up. I still have way too many walls around my heart, but it feels so good to dream a little.
We had an incredible weekend together. I drove a few hours to see her. We talked a lot and I feel confident in who she is. I am trying to make her feel more confident in who she is as well. I think she understands me and how cautious I am. We have a great understanding of one another. She's overwelmed that she felt this way over me so soon, as it isn't her usual modus. I think it's to my credit that I am working slowly. In fact, I told her that I like her despite her the money.
Bea has a 4yo son who lives with her half the year, plus she visits often and talks to him daily. They even have a camera system and she can see him all the time.
Bea's ex from the time, Mimi, homeschools the boy and he's a sponge for it even this young. (My son is the opposite, so it's interesting to hear about.) They inseminated Bea and she was at first pregnant with twins, lost them, and got pregnant the next try with Mike. She was fine being pregnant and had a waterbirth because of Mimi's insistence about natural childbirth. Bea went along, but it made her never want to do it again. Ever.
She really wants more children and to have a normal family thing, is interested in adpotion. However, she is willing to pay for me to have IVF and to help, as she'd gone through similar when they tried to get Mimi pregnant. She suggested that I do it. She's wanting to try it with my own eggs, because it is my preference, at least at the outset.
The concept is blowing my mind. As I turned 45, I was largely able to turn off the baby desires. I felt it was impossible and I am actually proud that I could switch gears. I have been able to cringe much less with a baby in proximity; although not perfect, I considered myself almost emotionally healed from IF.
Now she's interested in me trying this. We would have equal legal rights, just as she gave her partner with Mike.
She has several vials left of the sperm used for Mike. Apparently it's a real commondity and people want to buy it. The donor has a great track record for producing children. Over the weekend, she asked me what I would want and I said I'd always wanted another redhead. She said she wouldn't want my ex-husband to donate and I agreed quickly. It would be interesting using the same donor she'd used before, as any new baby would be a half sibling with Mike as well as a half sibling through me for J.
I told her I would not do it right away. I do not like the thought of being engaged in this stuff near the outset of our relationship, when I'd rather be showing her Europe. With her money, though, it'd be possible to go with children and travel.
Anyway, Bea presents a lot of issues and opportunities. She wants to buy a house near me for the schools; I began looking and drove through my preferred neighborhood. That way, locally, I could still do my art thing the way I've carved it out the past few months. I keep thinking that I could have my cake and eat it too, that J could begin middle school in the location I'd prefer, that I could have a dedicated art studio with proper lighting and supplies, that I could have a baby with a partner who would actually be actively involved and sufficient enough to make it feel easier, that I could stay in this area and do all the things I love. The possibilities are endless. I could so the simple stuff I like and not worry. I could never be extravagent, yet I would be able to do so much simple stuff with such freedom.
I already have it worked out with her that before anything her money does jeopardizes my income, I will have a legal contract that my various incomes/insurances/home are protected and she'll be required to compensate me. She's said for herself that she does not require a prenup, but it's funny that me and my piddly interests do.
She gives free access to her ATMs etc. Her last ex went to the ATM daily and withdrew the max - that is, the max that Bea is allowed (like $5K or something) if she goes directly to the card's bank. Bea didn't mind that a bit. What's hers is her mate's.
She spoke of the Vermont laws which allow for outsiders to get married. The only quirk is upon breaking up, when a year's residence would be required during the separation. Apparently the Vermont law can be applied elsewhere, so that legal rights are conferred for hospital settings, financal concerns, family issues, etc. I would need to research this more, because I've assumed for a very long time that I would never remarry.
Although it doesn't sound like I am taking it slowly, I am. This is all in the hypothetical. I do not have my hopes up. I still have way too many walls around my heart, but it feels so good to dream a little.
Friday, March 06, 2009
It only gets better
Seems the therapist gave the other woman Bea's phone number. When Bea didn't call last night, the woman called her at 7am. It woke her up and she just got off the phone as quickly as she could.
She was supposed to see the therapist today, but didn't go. The therapist called and asked why she didn't come and Bea said she wanted to stop. Late this afternoon, the therapist came to her house uninvited. Said Bea needed to see her and she added a fourth session to her schedule next week to compensate for the one missed today. Bea declined. It got heated. Bea said she didn't want to hear from her or her friend again. The therapist said Bea still owed her for today and Bea just rolled her eyes. After she left, she called the clinic and said she did want to see this therapist again. Turns out the therapist had, without her knowledge, scheduled her for four sessions next week. So she canceled them and hopefully is free.
If the therapist had not come by, I was writing a letter on Bea's behalf to the therapist. I have urged her to report the woman and will continue to do so.
After doing Scouts all morning tomorrow and painting in the afternoon tomorrow, I'm driving the three hours down to see her; twice in the past we've met in the middle. I'll evaluate things then. I assure you that I have a good head on my shoulders about this. I am not dependent. I have not fallen. My eyes are wide open. She is pursuing me and I am taking it very slowly. I do not think she is playing me (gosh, just think how suspicious and paranoid I am!), but I am very prepared if that's the case. In some situations in my life, trust is granted easily. In situations like this, it is not. She is naive, but I don't think it is terminal. She needs better people around her.
She was supposed to see the therapist today, but didn't go. The therapist called and asked why she didn't come and Bea said she wanted to stop. Late this afternoon, the therapist came to her house uninvited. Said Bea needed to see her and she added a fourth session to her schedule next week to compensate for the one missed today. Bea declined. It got heated. Bea said she didn't want to hear from her or her friend again. The therapist said Bea still owed her for today and Bea just rolled her eyes. After she left, she called the clinic and said she did want to see this therapist again. Turns out the therapist had, without her knowledge, scheduled her for four sessions next week. So she canceled them and hopefully is free.
If the therapist had not come by, I was writing a letter on Bea's behalf to the therapist. I have urged her to report the woman and will continue to do so.
After doing Scouts all morning tomorrow and painting in the afternoon tomorrow, I'm driving the three hours down to see her; twice in the past we've met in the middle. I'll evaluate things then. I assure you that I have a good head on my shoulders about this. I am not dependent. I have not fallen. My eyes are wide open. She is pursuing me and I am taking it very slowly. I do not think she is playing me (gosh, just think how suspicious and paranoid I am!), but I am very prepared if that's the case. In some situations in my life, trust is granted easily. In situations like this, it is not. She is naive, but I don't think it is terminal. She needs better people around her.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Next paragraph
I talked to Bea after the session today. Per the kind recommendation in comments, I googled and found a list of ethical concerns and sent it to Bea. I don't think I needed to, b/c Bea had come to her own conclusion.
After their first session last evening, this therapist called her bi-but-mostly-lesbian friend and told her about her new client. She got the other woman's permission for the therapist to pass along her phone number, which she did and said the other woman is waiting with anticipation for her call.
Talk about therapist-client privacy being jeopardized. It makes me furious.
This therapist interjected a bunch of other personal stuff today as Bea talked, often steering the conversation toward her. Bea felt like she was trying to be a friend instead of a professional.
She wants Bea to come three times a week and Bea is not interested in that frequency; Bea is confused, but she is not a head case. I think it is a financial thing, not one based in need. Bea is a good journal writer and I started her on a private blog a week or two ago. This therapist wants her to write and bring it in, which she did. Last night, she wrote. Today, the therapist read and picked apart each word and nuance. It made Bea wonder why she'd even brought it in.
Bea felt like the therapist's questions were inappropriate, as in how she became a lesbian, to which Bea said she was born this way. She had a boyfriend once in the sixth grade and they punched each others' arms. Apart from her attacker, she'd never been touched by a man, but she is clear to say that she has nothing against men, unlike some lesbians.
The therapist asked how many times in a sex session she would have orgasms. Bea felt very creeped out. And Bea wondered how much of this info would go to the therapist's friend.
The therapist also said to dump me - again. Bea told her that I didn't take to how she categorized all bipolars. Bea explained that I've had years of treatment and am very stable; the therapist apologized for hurting me, but I would actually have to give her much more power if I were to allow her to hurt me. It's silly. I don't care what the therapist thinks, but I do not want her position of authority to influence Bea.
The strange thing to me is how the therapist is cuing on me, because the other women living around Bea have drugged and rapped her and have cheated on her. They all manipulate her. I don't like their hands in her pockets and Bea is very generous with money and ATM cards.
Bea's birthday is in a few weeks. She wants me to do something with her for a weekend. I suggested Memp.his b/c I have always wanted to visit and experience the blues first hand; it's not that far or that extravagent. She loves music and thinks it's a good idea. She said she wants her gift from me to be me singing karoke for her. I am the worst singer in the world. She is perhaps the best, the voice of my dreams. If it's what she wants, then I will. And I will laugh, b/c she is so sweet to crave something that I could actually give. She's not much of a drinker, but I would take a pass that night and have a few.
We talked for a very long time today and we are in a good place. I enjoy her very much and I know she craves the stability I could offer. I like her spirit and her eagerness. We are good together in many ways. I would like to take some time to find out. I am relieved to be unencumbered now.
After their first session last evening, this therapist called her bi-but-mostly-lesbian friend and told her about her new client. She got the other woman's permission for the therapist to pass along her phone number, which she did and said the other woman is waiting with anticipation for her call.
Talk about therapist-client privacy being jeopardized. It makes me furious.
This therapist interjected a bunch of other personal stuff today as Bea talked, often steering the conversation toward her. Bea felt like she was trying to be a friend instead of a professional.
She wants Bea to come three times a week and Bea is not interested in that frequency; Bea is confused, but she is not a head case. I think it is a financial thing, not one based in need. Bea is a good journal writer and I started her on a private blog a week or two ago. This therapist wants her to write and bring it in, which she did. Last night, she wrote. Today, the therapist read and picked apart each word and nuance. It made Bea wonder why she'd even brought it in.
Bea felt like the therapist's questions were inappropriate, as in how she became a lesbian, to which Bea said she was born this way. She had a boyfriend once in the sixth grade and they punched each others' arms. Apart from her attacker, she'd never been touched by a man, but she is clear to say that she has nothing against men, unlike some lesbians.
The therapist asked how many times in a sex session she would have orgasms. Bea felt very creeped out. And Bea wondered how much of this info would go to the therapist's friend.
The therapist also said to dump me - again. Bea told her that I didn't take to how she categorized all bipolars. Bea explained that I've had years of treatment and am very stable; the therapist apologized for hurting me, but I would actually have to give her much more power if I were to allow her to hurt me. It's silly. I don't care what the therapist thinks, but I do not want her position of authority to influence Bea.
The strange thing to me is how the therapist is cuing on me, because the other women living around Bea have drugged and rapped her and have cheated on her. They all manipulate her. I don't like their hands in her pockets and Bea is very generous with money and ATM cards.
Bea's birthday is in a few weeks. She wants me to do something with her for a weekend. I suggested Memp.his b/c I have always wanted to visit and experience the blues first hand; it's not that far or that extravagent. She loves music and thinks it's a good idea. She said she wants her gift from me to be me singing karoke for her. I am the worst singer in the world. She is perhaps the best, the voice of my dreams. If it's what she wants, then I will. And I will laugh, b/c she is so sweet to crave something that I could actually give. She's not much of a drinker, but I would take a pass that night and have a few.
We talked for a very long time today and we are in a good place. I enjoy her very much and I know she craves the stability I could offer. I like her spirit and her eagerness. We are good together in many ways. I would like to take some time to find out. I am relieved to be unencumbered now.
The next page
Lyd called last night and I officially pulled the plug. I told her that I could not be part of her fantasy. I want her to disengage from me and find someone local and I want the same for me. She hates when she feels like a girl, but she's crying and moping. I told her that she needs distance and to not call until next week. I told her that I cannot handle the routinely long phone calls, that I can't entertain her, but I still like her and care for her. I don't see how there's a gray area for her, although there's always been one for me. I don't know how we can be friends.
She can be quite eloquent and she's written me a few short emails. She said she's not in love lost, but rather love limbo. She's excellent at telling herself what to do and how to feel - when she's not being mentally masochistic. I think she's seeing beauty instead of dirt for now.
I've known her almost a year. In some ways, I wish we could have made it until then. Also, her birthday is in just a few weeks. I just couldn't handle the disparity in our feelings any longer and felt such pressure in Sea.ttle. I also felt a huge sense of inadequacy, because I could not be what she wanted. I am not her princess.
Yeah, I do feel loss, but I feel a lot of relief, too. I know I will be lonely.
Afterward, I talked to Bea, who'd had a house call from her new therapist as her first session. She felt good about it, but I have some misgivings. First off, the therapist actually recommended a lesbian friend for her to date, talking her up. WRONG! Second, the therapist told her to run away from me, that she sees bipolars in her practice and that Bea has no idea what they're (I'm) capable of. I have never once had a therapist actually tell me what to do; this is ridiculous on a number of levels. Third, the therapist opened up at some length to Bea about some of her own problems.
This just feels all wrong! And I'm not saying that as a scorned-by-therapist friend or potential girlfriend. Bea lives in the boondocks, but there have to be some choices. Trouble is, when you work up nerve enough to finally call someone, you want it to work and perhaps lack energy to keep looking.
Gianna, thank you so much for your comment and for opening up; I miss it here, too. I have contemplated adopting the label of lesbian, but I do not feel like I would fit in that world. Although I could not at present fathom a relationship with a man, I cannot step into the lesbian stereotypical relationship, either. I don't find myself attracted to the feminine and like the soft butch, but I don't like the June and Ward Cleaver dynamic I see with that pairing. I want a partner who is an equal.
Lyd did leave me with a great parting gift. It should suffice for many coupling sessions - a beautiful glass watermelon dildo. I recommend them highly.
She can be quite eloquent and she's written me a few short emails. She said she's not in love lost, but rather love limbo. She's excellent at telling herself what to do and how to feel - when she's not being mentally masochistic. I think she's seeing beauty instead of dirt for now.
I've known her almost a year. In some ways, I wish we could have made it until then. Also, her birthday is in just a few weeks. I just couldn't handle the disparity in our feelings any longer and felt such pressure in Sea.ttle. I also felt a huge sense of inadequacy, because I could not be what she wanted. I am not her princess.
Yeah, I do feel loss, but I feel a lot of relief, too. I know I will be lonely.
Afterward, I talked to Bea, who'd had a house call from her new therapist as her first session. She felt good about it, but I have some misgivings. First off, the therapist actually recommended a lesbian friend for her to date, talking her up. WRONG! Second, the therapist told her to run away from me, that she sees bipolars in her practice and that Bea has no idea what they're (I'm) capable of. I have never once had a therapist actually tell me what to do; this is ridiculous on a number of levels. Third, the therapist opened up at some length to Bea about some of her own problems.
This just feels all wrong! And I'm not saying that as a scorned-by-therapist friend or potential girlfriend. Bea lives in the boondocks, but there have to be some choices. Trouble is, when you work up nerve enough to finally call someone, you want it to work and perhaps lack energy to keep looking.
Gianna, thank you so much for your comment and for opening up; I miss it here, too. I have contemplated adopting the label of lesbian, but I do not feel like I would fit in that world. Although I could not at present fathom a relationship with a man, I cannot step into the lesbian stereotypical relationship, either. I don't find myself attracted to the feminine and like the soft butch, but I don't like the June and Ward Cleaver dynamic I see with that pairing. I want a partner who is an equal.
Lyd did leave me with a great parting gift. It should suffice for many coupling sessions - a beautiful glass watermelon dildo. I recommend them highly.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
This made me squeal
Lyd's mother won several million dollars recently. It's divided out over 20 years. The amount of the yearly prize is 2-3 times what I make right now, so it'd be living better and buying more art supplies and workshops if I'd won, but not exactly living large.
But still. Their lives are changing. Her mother offered her tuition to go back to school to be a nurse; it's self serving on her mother's part. Lyd earned a general BA last spring, not really having a goal for it, but defaulting to the idea of teaching. Then the idea of nursing came up and she researched prerequisites. Lyd has too much of a temper to be in a helping profession. I want Lyd to go to graduate school in something she actually likes, but then her mother might not pay for that.
Knowing her mother and the strife that follows her (I think of her like the evil step-mother in Cinderella ordering her daughters around), this will be another means of control. I sincerely hope they can find balance with this. I also hope that her mother doesn't gamble it away, too, because the addiction runs deep.
But still. Their lives are changing. Her mother offered her tuition to go back to school to be a nurse; it's self serving on her mother's part. Lyd earned a general BA last spring, not really having a goal for it, but defaulting to the idea of teaching. Then the idea of nursing came up and she researched prerequisites. Lyd has too much of a temper to be in a helping profession. I want Lyd to go to graduate school in something she actually likes, but then her mother might not pay for that.
Knowing her mother and the strife that follows her (I think of her like the evil step-mother in Cinderella ordering her daughters around), this will be another means of control. I sincerely hope they can find balance with this. I also hope that her mother doesn't gamble it away, too, because the addiction runs deep.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Sour Cream and Onion Crickettes
Yeah, really. They were dried crickets slathered in seasonings. Could have chosen a couple other flavors, too, like BBQ or cinnamon.
I could not eat my kind, but Lyd didn't know they were my kind! She ate the whole bag.
I could not eat my kind, but Lyd didn't know they were my kind! She ate the whole bag.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Same ol'
I'm actually the optimistic sort, expecting the best to happen, figuring I'll learn and apply what I learned.
In my lapse of not reading Bloglines for a while ( I still have some of you to go), the dreaded pregnancy/new baby folder swelled to over 500 entries. In an act of courage and stupidity, I decided to tackle it.
Approximately every other blog was pregnant or had a brand new baby. I'm not even exaggerating. The shear numbers were completely unexpected. Operating in mistaken self-preseveration, I kept thinking, "No, this next one couldn't be," but it was.
I didn't understand, because most were in that folder because they (generally) got treatment to get pregnant in the first place and then they got their miracle baby allotment. Now they're working on bonuses.
Most days, I am fine being an over the hill infertile. In my life day to day, it rarely rears its head. I can talk to baby people just fine. However, the blog version of this scenario just isn't working for me. Although they couldn't really care less about me as a reader or an unfortunate individual, it feels cruel to learn how truly easy it becomes for some, how they cross back over that fence to stay. It feels like they weren't really infertile, that we were all fooled for a time.
Of course, I don't really believe these things, nor do I think an infertile's pregnancy is directed at my tender psyche, but it sure feels that way as I read entry after entry in a folder of infertiles, who rolled surprise pregnancies in Las Vegas or in their own damn bedrooms.
I wish I'd been so lucky. Reading that folder was overwhelming and it opened old wounds. I wish them all well, but mostly I wished myself well, too, but came up short. I don't think I will force myself to read that folder again. I really learned this time.
In my lapse of not reading Bloglines for a while ( I still have some of you to go), the dreaded pregnancy/new baby folder swelled to over 500 entries. In an act of courage and stupidity, I decided to tackle it.
Approximately every other blog was pregnant or had a brand new baby. I'm not even exaggerating. The shear numbers were completely unexpected. Operating in mistaken self-preseveration, I kept thinking, "No, this next one couldn't be," but it was.
I didn't understand, because most were in that folder because they (generally) got treatment to get pregnant in the first place and then they got their miracle baby allotment. Now they're working on bonuses.
Most days, I am fine being an over the hill infertile. In my life day to day, it rarely rears its head. I can talk to baby people just fine. However, the blog version of this scenario just isn't working for me. Although they couldn't really care less about me as a reader or an unfortunate individual, it feels cruel to learn how truly easy it becomes for some, how they cross back over that fence to stay. It feels like they weren't really infertile, that we were all fooled for a time.
Of course, I don't really believe these things, nor do I think an infertile's pregnancy is directed at my tender psyche, but it sure feels that way as I read entry after entry in a folder of infertiles, who rolled surprise pregnancies in Las Vegas or in their own damn bedrooms.
I wish I'd been so lucky. Reading that folder was overwhelming and it opened old wounds. I wish them all well, but mostly I wished myself well, too, but came up short. I don't think I will force myself to read that folder again. I really learned this time.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Hello, It's Me
That song by Todd Rundgren is my favorite ever.
I love his freaky eyebrows. He looks similarly in other videos. Not sure if that's his thing or if he's a victim of his times. There are different interpretations of the lyrics, but he sounds contrite, yet hopeful, as if he knows it's over, doesn't want it to be, and he'll take what he can get. Before reading the link, I didn't know it was written as if on the telephone.
Today is better than yesterday. After I got the lithium, I was pretty together as soon as it hit my system. I was wiped out this morning, though. Had a hard time getting up, after many snoozes, and I figure it's related.
It's a bad day for stress, as in my fog of late, I did not deposit my support check from ex from the beginning of the month. He inquired yesterday, then kindly dropped another check off this morning. I need to make it to the bank. I am very nervous.
I am much too quasi about finances. It taxes my brain and drains me. It's like I can only be together about one thing at a time and being good about finances would mean I would not have the energy for anything else. Ex said I was a bad business partner; it's true. It needs to be somebody else's job.
I look at energy as a measured quantity. I despise when something extraneous steals energy. You don't know how often I want to use the expression, "I don't chew my cud twice."
Still no news from the art center about the judging. I emailed with the other artist going through it and she says she plans to give her a week. She said something about being scared about getting in. I don't fear that as much as I just want to know one way or the other.
I love his freaky eyebrows. He looks similarly in other videos. Not sure if that's his thing or if he's a victim of his times. There are different interpretations of the lyrics, but he sounds contrite, yet hopeful, as if he knows it's over, doesn't want it to be, and he'll take what he can get. Before reading the link, I didn't know it was written as if on the telephone.
Today is better than yesterday. After I got the lithium, I was pretty together as soon as it hit my system. I was wiped out this morning, though. Had a hard time getting up, after many snoozes, and I figure it's related.
It's a bad day for stress, as in my fog of late, I did not deposit my support check from ex from the beginning of the month. He inquired yesterday, then kindly dropped another check off this morning. I need to make it to the bank. I am very nervous.
I am much too quasi about finances. It taxes my brain and drains me. It's like I can only be together about one thing at a time and being good about finances would mean I would not have the energy for anything else. Ex said I was a bad business partner; it's true. It needs to be somebody else's job.
I look at energy as a measured quantity. I despise when something extraneous steals energy. You don't know how often I want to use the expression, "I don't chew my cud twice."
Still no news from the art center about the judging. I emailed with the other artist going through it and she says she plans to give her a week. She said something about being scared about getting in. I don't fear that as much as I just want to know one way or the other.
Monday, January 12, 2009
I'm sorry, again
I think of posting often. Just like I just read on another blogger, I get stymied. I figure that if I'm blogging often, I can just drop in for a quickie. After an absence, though, I need a slow, comfortable entry. A quickie rant might suit, but it isn't quite respectful.
No, I'm not talking about sex.
At present, I believe I'm going through lithium withdrawals. This happens a day or two after I run out. I have run out b/c I was out of refills. Of course, I had a script in my purse, but I forgot, so the pharmacy must go through the deal to call the doctor.
I was also out of my cholesterol med; my cholesterol is down to 184 because of it this last year and a half. The pharmacy called me today and said I'm no longer a patient with my GP, so he can't refill it. I gave up on getting into my first GP after a couple years, then deferred to going to this guy the last, oh, say, five years. I saw where the first doctor was going to some pre-pay plan, but never saw where my doctor was going. I figured the practice was splitting up. Apparently this occurred last May, however, I KNOW that since last May they have done a refill renewal on something. The office wench told me today that I had not been there since October 07, so there wasn't possibly a thing he could do for me. I asked her if I was supposed to feign sickness in order to have two mild, chronic illnesses treated - cholesterol and asthma - and clog their appointment system for nothing.
So I got a referral to another doctor, an expense I am conscious of during a very lean month. Of course, they can't have my records on such short notice, so I can't combine trips on the 10 miles up there an back to my appt Thursday. And they want me to drop off something in writing, not give something in writing when I pick it up. So this will be three trips for a total of 60+ miles. AND I'M NOT EVEN FUCKING SICK!
Add to these series of phone calls the friendly county water checker guy came by and asked me to turn off my water so he could check for leaks. There'd been a complaint about water on the sidewalk. Obviously, the person hasn't been here long, as it is like this every winter BECAUSE OF THE FUCKING POOR DRAINAGE THAT THE SEWER ARM OF THE FUCKING COUNTY WON'T CORRECT. Sheesh.
Back to the lithium withdrawals. Before Gianna, I thought I would get whacked from bpd mental illness the instant I came off of lithium, that there must be some huge rebound effect. Because of this impatience/crankiness/mania, I am religiously good about refills. This time, there was the extra kink, tough. Anyway, Gianna showed me the light that it isn't my mental illness kicking in, it is withdrawals. It happens the same way each time I'm off for a few days. It is withdrawals. I am not an extra dose of crazy. However, I don't want to come off; I otherwise tolerate it just fine.
Otherwise, things are going well. I am waiting to hear if I was juried into the art center. Was supposed to hear Friday, so it's really working on me. Cool thing is that I'm now hanging, well, you know what I mean, in a gallery and in a government building. This week, I'll be adding a senior center and in a few weeks there will be a coffee/pastry shop, too.
Winter is killing me, because I want so badly to paint outside. Because of the bad lot of paper I got, the fall wasn't as fruitful as I'd hoped. So I am TRYING to paint from pictures I took of CA over Thanksgiving. And I am going to take a class beginning on Wednesday. I want to support the new art center and I am thrilled that they are offering pastel classes, but I'm sad that the classes don't go. The one I'm taking isn't the one I wanted to, but the other two didn't go. This one is with my old pastel teacher who drove me crazy - would not show up prepared for class, talked about people's grandchildren instead of instructing, no demos, no critiques, wanted to pick up pastels to work on your piece instead of being able to tell you what to do...
Nationally recognized and winner of shows, she was my first pastel teacher four years ago and I took her on/off for about 1.5 years until I began working outside almost exclusively. It has been awkward when I see her at various meetings, as I really do feel like she held out on important details concerning my questions years ago about the business of art - photographing works, joining societies, exhibiting, etc - sort of like she was trying to keep me in a certain place. It took me longer, perhaps, but I am in a good place nonetheless. We get along just fine as people, just not as artists or instructor/pupil. It's a very good thing that I have therapy directly after her class!
Okay, there are much, much worse things in the world than I've described. It's basically going well. Today is not good, but it should be better tomorrow once I make it to the pharmacy.
Val, I have not forgotten you. Not in the least. I have psyched myself out about it and I am figuring a way around it.
No, I'm not talking about sex.
At present, I believe I'm going through lithium withdrawals. This happens a day or two after I run out. I have run out b/c I was out of refills. Of course, I had a script in my purse, but I forgot, so the pharmacy must go through the deal to call the doctor.
I was also out of my cholesterol med; my cholesterol is down to 184 because of it this last year and a half. The pharmacy called me today and said I'm no longer a patient with my GP, so he can't refill it. I gave up on getting into my first GP after a couple years, then deferred to going to this guy the last, oh, say, five years. I saw where the first doctor was going to some pre-pay plan, but never saw where my doctor was going. I figured the practice was splitting up. Apparently this occurred last May, however, I KNOW that since last May they have done a refill renewal on something. The office wench told me today that I had not been there since October 07, so there wasn't possibly a thing he could do for me. I asked her if I was supposed to feign sickness in order to have two mild, chronic illnesses treated - cholesterol and asthma - and clog their appointment system for nothing.
So I got a referral to another doctor, an expense I am conscious of during a very lean month. Of course, they can't have my records on such short notice, so I can't combine trips on the 10 miles up there an back to my appt Thursday. And they want me to drop off something in writing, not give something in writing when I pick it up. So this will be three trips for a total of 60+ miles. AND I'M NOT EVEN FUCKING SICK!
Add to these series of phone calls the friendly county water checker guy came by and asked me to turn off my water so he could check for leaks. There'd been a complaint about water on the sidewalk. Obviously, the person hasn't been here long, as it is like this every winter BECAUSE OF THE FUCKING POOR DRAINAGE THAT THE SEWER ARM OF THE FUCKING COUNTY WON'T CORRECT. Sheesh.
Back to the lithium withdrawals. Before Gianna, I thought I would get whacked from bpd mental illness the instant I came off of lithium, that there must be some huge rebound effect. Because of this impatience/crankiness/mania, I am religiously good about refills. This time, there was the extra kink, tough. Anyway, Gianna showed me the light that it isn't my mental illness kicking in, it is withdrawals. It happens the same way each time I'm off for a few days. It is withdrawals. I am not an extra dose of crazy. However, I don't want to come off; I otherwise tolerate it just fine.
Otherwise, things are going well. I am waiting to hear if I was juried into the art center. Was supposed to hear Friday, so it's really working on me. Cool thing is that I'm now hanging, well, you know what I mean, in a gallery and in a government building. This week, I'll be adding a senior center and in a few weeks there will be a coffee/pastry shop, too.
Winter is killing me, because I want so badly to paint outside. Because of the bad lot of paper I got, the fall wasn't as fruitful as I'd hoped. So I am TRYING to paint from pictures I took of CA over Thanksgiving. And I am going to take a class beginning on Wednesday. I want to support the new art center and I am thrilled that they are offering pastel classes, but I'm sad that the classes don't go. The one I'm taking isn't the one I wanted to, but the other two didn't go. This one is with my old pastel teacher who drove me crazy - would not show up prepared for class, talked about people's grandchildren instead of instructing, no demos, no critiques, wanted to pick up pastels to work on your piece instead of being able to tell you what to do...
Nationally recognized and winner of shows, she was my first pastel teacher four years ago and I took her on/off for about 1.5 years until I began working outside almost exclusively. It has been awkward when I see her at various meetings, as I really do feel like she held out on important details concerning my questions years ago about the business of art - photographing works, joining societies, exhibiting, etc - sort of like she was trying to keep me in a certain place. It took me longer, perhaps, but I am in a good place nonetheless. We get along just fine as people, just not as artists or instructor/pupil. It's a very good thing that I have therapy directly after her class!
Okay, there are much, much worse things in the world than I've described. It's basically going well. Today is not good, but it should be better tomorrow once I make it to the pharmacy.
Val, I have not forgotten you. Not in the least. I have psyched myself out about it and I am figuring a way around it.
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