Not for the faint of heart

Delicate flowers, this is your fair warning to back-click before you join me in Nausea Central.

Today is bowel prep day, oh joy. The anesthesia for surgery looks damn good at this point. The laxative prescribed for me is Colyte, which tastes as if it's pure salt water. I've managed to get about half of it down, at the price of being incredibly nauseous. The doc's office called in a prescription for Phenergan, and Mom went and picked it up for me, so now I'm waiting for it to kick in, sipping plain water because I feel dehydrated, and praying that I don't barf again. I just know this stuff has messed up my electrolytes (shut up Snicker :p ) because I'm alternating between chills and fever and I think my heart's fluttering.

At least I sorted out the mess with the insurance company this morning, while I still had some feisty. Of course, my copaxone won't arrive until after I'm in the hospital, but I trust Amy to remember it, unpack it, and refrigerate the damn stuff.

Right now, I'm thinking about a hot bath with something soothing in terms of bubble bath, but I can't decide which scent will make me least likely to projectile vomit over the side of the tub.

*angry screaming*

Stupid insurance company. Last year, when they abruptly decided not to pay for my copaxone any more, I got a one-year reprieve by being a squeaky wheel. Apparently, though, their definition of "one year" is actually seven months. Today was the last day the pharmacy could ship my meds so that I got them before my surgery. Just to put the icing on the cake, the idiots at the pharmacy called me at home instead of at work, and left the message here where I can't do anything about it until tomorrow.

A little blast from the past, because it still applies:

To my health insurance company, for all the times you've screwed me, sans sweet talk, sans foreplay, sans lube and sans reacharound:

Just so you know, I'm going to enter your building armed with some fancy gun which shoots lots and lots and lots of bullets very fast. I am going to tell everyone but you to vacate the building, then I am going to make you walk through it, leaving nice little lumps of C4 everywhere. Then I am going to shoot the hell out of every computer, fax machine, printer, and even *gasp* the coffee and vending machines. After that, you and I will walk out of the building and detonate the C4.

As the police take me away, I will laugh maniacally at the thought of your insurance company dropping your coverage after they pay off your claim.

Wow. Just...wow.

Today didn't start out all that well. I woke up with fierce gas pains and was feeling very sorry for myself. That is, until I checked my e-mail and found three feedback comments from Literotica. Seeing that my non-erotic essay had posted, I went to my submissions page to look. What I saw led to a stunned gasp and then bubbly laughter.

The story got an "E," which stands for Editor's Choice. I never thought I'd get one.

Oddly enough, the story's got a relatively low rating, but all of the private feedbacks were from males, all relating similar stories about cats. Perhaps they didn't care to ruin a perceived image with public comments?

It's ironic that I decided to brush up this piece and post it--it's an old one, but it's applicable right now because I keep feeding the lilbittyblackkitty. It's also ironic that it's one of only two serious pieces that I've posted on Lit, and it's definitely sad, with an unhappy ending. I guess you can make people laugh and not impress the editors, but make your readers cry and you get an award...

For Captain Spaulding, the African Explorer

This is not the kind of fierce kitty my explorer friend looks for, and it's a lousy picture because if I came out of the house, the kitty ran off, but the kitten food and water in a semi-sheltered spot did work to lure somebody out of hiding.

Grumpypuss

Must be PMS--I'm restless, bored, emotional and cranky. Lit is boring me because my new stories haven't been posted; chat irritated me because people keep using improper grammar; I'm tired of games and I couldn't make my bath last longer than thirty minutes.

There are a lot of productive things I could be doing. I'm planning to clean the house extremely thoroughly this weekend, just in case. I know there's only a minimal chance of something going wrong with the surgery, but if something does go wrong, my family shouldn't have to clean. It's okay to deal with STUFF, of which I have lots, but filth is a different matter.

Maybe I'll just call it a night, let sleeping grumpypusses lie.

Six days to go

And I'm starting to get excited. I had my pre-op appointment today, and bought my drugs and my Colyte. The hospital made me take a urine pregnancy test, because I can't be trusted to know if I'm pregnant or even if I could be pregnant. :rolleyes: If I'm pregnant, there's gonna be a whole new religion starting up and some old religions sweating, that's all I've got to say...

Amy came over tonight and I we did birthday presents while Josh mowed, then we talked about the surgery and what it will be like afterwards. When Josh was done, he joined us, and the talk turned to families, because Amy's brother and his family came home for a family wedding last weekend.

As I often do, I remembered a quote from "That 70s Show."

Kitty Foreman, "I love my family, I really do. But sometimes, I just want to get in the car and...



















run them all over!"

*grin*

Pondering

I had my psych eval today. I know I did well on the interview portion--I've done my homework, and I know what to expect both short-term and long-term. I think the doc was pretty impressed.

The part I worry about was the written questions, especially one of the True/False ones.

I have never taken advantage of another person. True False

Well, CRUMBBUNNIES. How do I answer this one? I've tried not to take advantage of others, but there are people out there who probably feel differently about me. An ex-boyfriend or three, my parents from time to time, possibly a co-worker from the past, even Amy sometimes because she gives and gives and gives and is often difficult to give back to (as in she won't let me, lol). *sigh* I opted for honesty and circled "False." Doing something inadvertently doesn't excuse you from doing it, and all I can do is try not to do it again.

There were way too many of these black & white questions, and on all of them, I erred on the side of honesty and maybe a little bit being hard on myself. But if I don't, who else is going to?

I know you lied.

And I've decided not to confront you. I don't like confrontations, and I don't wish to give you enough standing to do something I dislike with you. I'm going to say here that I think you are a mean, cowardly little sneak, and be done with it.

Oh, I'm also just petty enough to say that although the cardiologist told me there's just the normal 2% chance of my heart failing during surgery, if something does happen to me, you'll get an e-mail from Snicker, along with a copy of the proof that you lied, and, if she does as I ask, a one line message.

"She died knowing you had lied to her."

Have a nice life.

Satan's fuzzy little minions

July 17, 2004:

I've figured out where the rock came from last Sunday. Back when I tripped over the rock, I moved it into one of the flowerbeds to keep from tripping over it again. Last night, when I watered everything, it was out of the bed and in the grass...I was wondering how a six-inch rock could move itself, and then this morning I figured it out!

There's a squirrel conspiracy going on...those conniving furballs think that if they kill me, they'll have unrestricted access to the birdfeeder! My awareness came this morning, as I was sitting here waiting for one of the tree-rats to get within water pistol range...She kept staring straight at me, clearly wondering why I was still alive after the assassin squirrels moved the rock so I'd trip over it! I just waited, and when she was actually on the birdfeeder, squirted her with the water pistol. The best thing was that when she leapt off, she landed smack in the birdbath!

Ha! Teach those rats-with-fluffy-tails to mess with me!

In the last two years, I haven't changed my opinion about squirrels. I still think they're rats with better costumes, working for Satan. They climb my trellis, with their claws shredding the morning glory leaves, commit ninja attacks on my birdfeeders and dig up and eat flower bulbs. Rotten little things.

*sigh*

On the other hand, I feel dreadfully sorry for the extremely thin black kitty I've seen the past two mornings. I've known since I worked there that TimberTop had some feral cats around, mostly due to the kind of idiot who gets a cat and then dumps it when moving, but I never imagined one of them would make it up here, a mile away. Then again, maybe it didn't, maybe it was dumped in one of the nearby neighborhoods. It's all black, with yellow eyes, and stopped this morning to listen to me talk to it, until Littlefoot went all psycho inside the house and it backed off.

I know perfectly well what happens when you feed a stray cat. Bubba happens. Still, I'm probably going to get some cheap cat food and put it out, because I'm a complete softy. I know it's going to wind up feeding more than the little black kitty--I'll probably attract raccoons and, ew, squirrels.

Still need to do it, though.

In Loving Memory of Lexus Arizona, "Lexi-Dog"

As I mentioned, my friend Amy had to have her adored Lexi-Dog put to sleep on Monday. Today, I received a two-page memorial from Amy, containing The Rainbow Bridge, A Dog's Prayer, and three beautiful pictures of Lexi.

I have never liked small dogs, but Lexi looked like a mini version of the younger of my two dogs, and was just the sweetest, smartest little thing. She was not even remotely yappy, was very smart and a total cuddle bunny.

Nothing but a very long time will ease the ache that comes from the loss of a pet. They're here for such a short time, but give and receive so much love in their little time that a part of us dies when they do. I'm not much for prayer, but I do pray that the rainbow bridge really exists, and that there will be many joyful reunions.

Until that time, Lexi, may you run free.

Leo Ladies

Well, I screwed the pooch.

Fucked up.

Made a grievous error.

Blew it.

Not only did I forget Amy's birthday (August 14th), but I forgot Snicker's as well (August 15th). I already had Amy's present, it's in the guest room, and thankfully, Snick said she wanted a gift certificate this year, so the minute she said something I knew why there was too much money in my checking account and I could go fix that. Still, it doesn't excuse me forgetting about both birthdays.

Let me just add that it's worse than just forgetting. In Snick's case, I had called her to whimper about a minor injury done to my pride, waking her up at 7ish on her birthday to forget in her face. Let's see if I can possibly be a little MORE insensitive next year, shall we?

Hey, why wait a year--why don't I just make things harder on the other Leo lady in my circle of close friends. That's right, I called Amy, tried to make light of the fact that I forgot her birthday, and found out that she had to put her dog down yesterday, and if I had called her on time, I maybe could have been there with her and for her instead of trying to convey a hug over the phone. :(

Both Snicker and Amy have been better to me than I deserved, and I'm going to make a New Year's resolution right now to be a better friend.

What IS a meme, anyway?

Of course, Wiki has the answer...meme.

This one is from Sherri, and leaves me without five people to tag, but I'm doing it anyway.

Standard disclaimer of "What the heck do you mean, one book?" applies.

1. One book that changed your life? Grapes of Wrath

I was thirteen when I read it and fell in love with Steinbeck's writing, plotting and characters.

2. One book you have read more than once? Small Gods by Terry Pratchett. Queries about religion, philosophy, eagles and villainy, all wrapped up in Pratchett's inimitable humor.

3. One book you would want on a desert island? Sisters in Crime, Vol. I. This was a really tough choice, but this one wins both from the number of stories, the fact that it's a mystery anthology, and the fact that there are a number of authors in here whose works I went on to read more of and very much enjoy.

4. One book that made you laugh? Smoke and Mirrors by Tanya Huff. A horror novel that scared me to death and yet made me laugh aloud on almost every page.

5. One book that made you cry? Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls. Heartbreaking. I hate it when doggies die.

6. One book you wish had been written? I wish H. Beam Piper had lived long enough to write a few more Fuzzy books. :(

7. One book you wish had never been written? Anthem by Ayn Rand.

8. One book you are currently reading?
Guards, Guards! by Terry Pratchett. His usual humor overlaying standard fantasy plot and subplots.

9. One book you have been meaning to read? Dance of Death by P.N. Elrod. I've loved the rest of the series, just haven't been able to buy this one yet.

10. Now tag five people:

Snicker and Jay and Basil if he ever gets a blog

Somebody needs to get off her lazy butt!

Laundry: check.

Clean bathroom: check.

Dishwasher unloaded and reloaded: check.

Sheets changed: check.

Breakfast: check.

E-mail read & responded to as necessary: check.

Unfinished stories, 8: Erm.

Stories to edit for a friend, 2: Double erm.

I should not be dinking around playing Mah-Jongg, addictive thing that it is, I should be writing & editing. Bad, evil, horrible procrastinatrix.

Snobservations III

Mister, if you keep tailgating me in your little midlifecrisismobile, you're going to smash it all to heck on my back bumper. There's a reason I'm driving the speed limit here--I happen to know these twisty downhill S-curves like my tongue knows my teeth, and I know people have driven off the road and died here. So back off before you wind up inside a heap of crumpled metal, you brainless twit.

Lucinda Basset, I find you utterly despicable. Your syrupy, Mama-knows-best voice has always irritated me, but I figured maybe you could help a few folks, so what did I know? But now you've got new radio commercials, and you're talking as if nobody ever needs to take any kind of anti-depressant or anti-psychotic medication, so I went looking for your website. The first thing I noticed is that there's no address, so I don't know which state you're in. That means it wouldn't be easy to check with the Better Business Bureau to see if there are complaints. The second thing I noticed was that your "helpline" phone number is identical to your "order it now" phone number. That clinches it--you're in this for the money. L. Ron Hubbard started by preying on people afraid of psychiatry, you're preying on people who are afraid of medications. Vampire. I hope someone stuffs a bulb of garlic in your mouth before you hurt someone.

Oh, and Match.Com? Yeah, I'm sorry, but Dr. Phil ain't a selling point. If I ever die behind the wheel, it's a tossup whether it will be a stroke from anger (see next paragraph) or laughing so hard I drive off the road. I'm not going to take relationship advice from someone who believes "Don't dream, do" is profound. I'm especially not going to pay for meeting someone dumb enough to have been lured in by your celebrity hayseed, thanks.

On the subject of stroking out while driving, if it happens, it will be because a certain Cleveland store hasn't gone out of business soon enough. I don't care if you have to sell all your inventory because you're bankrupt. As far as I'm concerned, anyone who uses the word "semi-antiques" deserves to go bankrupt, and it can't happen fast enough. "Antique" is a word with a specific meaning. A chair can't be "semi-antique" any more than a person can be semi-pregnant. Oh, and if you extend your "final three days" one more time, I may have to drive up there and beat you with the first volume of the unabridged OED.

More laughter while driving--the commercial for the vocabulary program. It doesn't sell your product to say things like, "In business and in social, people judge you on the words you use." Right now, I'm judging you don't know as much about words as you'd like me to believe. *snort*

Further snobservations as events warrant. Or not. Who knows?

Soothing stuff

Taking these pics helped almost as much as talking to Snick:





And I took the Heather's advice and had a Lush bath with a Happy Pill. I can't say that I'm particularly happy, but at least I'm relaxed and rested and I have pretty things to look at.

Must be Monday somewhere

Well, Mom, I'm really sorry that I told you how it made me feel to have you ask me to run your personal errands while you're up at the lake and I'm working. Next time, I'll just swallow the anger and let it fester until it explodes.

*tears of hurt, rage and frustration*

Update as of 9:00 p.m.:

Mom must have vented to Dad, because I called the lake house and he was extremely snotty. I was almost in tears when I called Snicker.

Thank you, beautiful. *non-lesbian love and hugs*

POFPRN

Home, sweet home

The weekend at the lake was lovely. The kids are all adorable little Visigoths, raiding and rampaging (except the baby, and she'll be one next year, I'm sure). I had a chance to tell everybody about the surgery, which is now scheduled for August 30th. Middle little brother told me he's hiring a payroll service, which means I won't have to do his payroll taxes any more, perfectly timed for me being gone for the surgery.

Best quote of the weekend: six-year old Chip announcing to me, "Actually, Auntie Jammies, I'm not much of a morning person."

Cutest moment of the weekend: Princess Niece playing 'Cinderella Goes To The Ball' with four Matchbox cars and a big plastic pickup truck.'

Worst thing about the weekend: my aunt's Calvinist mattress, which feels as if someone put a mattress pad over a foam block, and from which I am still aching.

Saturday & Sunday with the family went too fast. I did get two golf cart rides, a chance to see Dip & Princess Niece holding hands when we went to get the donuts, and my cousin came down from Defiance for a visit Sunday afternoon and stayed for dinner. It was great to see everyone.

Monday started at 3 a.m. with some lovely vomiting & diarrhea, which I blamed on injudicious food intake over the weekend. Then I had to drive home, pick up my pre-surgical diet and answer needy client phone calls, by which time I had a nice low blood sugar/no caffeine headache going on. Around 4 Tuesday morning, that headache had turned into a migraine, so I got up, forced down some ibuprofen and got my lavender, chamomile & rosemary rice bag out of the freezer and slept until six, when I found out my period had started. From that point of view, I'm glad I didn't stay at the lake, and sort of amazed I hadn't been more sensitive due to PMS.

Amy picked me up at 6:30 for my endoscopy, and whatever drugs they gave me got rid of the migraine and made Amy tell me repeatedly that I was funny. We stopped at work to pick up the mail, since I wasn't allowed to go back to work, and Amy walked me in so I wouldn't run into walls. *blush* I hope I didn't make too big an idiot of myself in front of Susan & Marcia.

Lots more cramps today, oh joy, but at least I can go into work and huddle in my big giant chair with a Thermacare patch on my tummy.

Minus 31 hours!

Around two p.m. on Saturday, I will be seeing my brother, sister-in-law and three year old niece for the first time since Christmas and my eight-month old niece for the first time ever!

Usually, this time of year is 9 or 10 days up at the lake house with the entire family. Middle liddle brother and his wife and kids come up from Columbus, liddle liddle brother and his wife and kids come in from Dallas, and we all meet at Lakeside. Unfortunately, all of my vacation time is booked up this year, so I get a long weekend. I'll follow Mom & Dad up tomorrow afternoon, and then go straight to the office on Monday morning. It's a two-plus hour drive, but that's not what drives me crazy. I hate driving, so I'd really rather just do the mandatory 5-7 mph over the speed limit and get it over with. Dad, on the other hand, drives at 60 to save gas. No wonder my toenails itch when we start off on these journeys.

I've neatened up the house for Amy, who is dogsitting, and started the laundry. I still need to pack and then load the car, but since I've only got to pack for three days, that shouldn't take long. Two pairs of shorts, two t-shirts, undies, toothpaste and toothbrush, jammies and my meds, and I'm good to go.

I can't wait!