In Her Favorite Morning Sun Spot…

It’s too Early to be Up…

More Lunches!!!

Completely Disappointing Coke Ritual Experience…

 

“You’re sure you’re not trying to pull a fast one on me,” dad said this morning. “You’re mother always puts your cokes out.”

“She was out of it last night, dad!” I exclaimed desperately. “She called me asking me what day it was at three in the morning.”

Dad yawned and you could hear him get out of the bed.  His cell phone was beeping meaning the battery was low.

“I’ll put you six Cokes out in just a minute,” he finally told me. “Let me wake up and start breakfast.”

I sighed with relief.  I was really getting into a tizzy over my usual Coke ritual not going as planned.  I had waited for hours fretting for sunrise so I could call.  My obsessive compulsiveness was in overdrive.  

“I’m driving over right now to get them,” I said before hanging up.

Well, you have never met a more disappointed Andrew when I got home from getting my Cokes and they were all caffeine free when I looked in the plastic sack.  I was hoping for my three “leaded” diet Cokes to wake me up.  I will know from now on to wait until dad goes to work before calling – to be patient.  I will get mom to put my cokes out from now on no matter how out of it she is. 

Thoughts for the Day…

Dearest Martha…

It was 3 AM.  I was sound asleep when I got a call from mom.

“What day is it?” mom asked, foregoing any pleasantries.

I laughed. Oh god!

“Mom, it is late Friday night, early Saturday morning!”

“I woke up and didn’t even know where I was,” she said, sounding confused and then hung up abruptly.

Well, after waking up some, I drove over to get my sodas.  They weren’t on the porch.  Disappointment central!  Mom is really having a time with her mental illness these days and is usually completely out of it.  My father is extremely concerned about her.  She’s been so sick.

Dawn of the Dead…

When I woke up this morning due to mom’s phone call, Maggie was sound asleep next to me.  I kept smelling something putrid as I lay there listening to the radio.  I leaned over to smell Maggie.  Dear God!  Maggie reeked.  She must have gotten into something dead in the backyard.  Why do dogs like stinky, dead stuff? lol  Well, I casually pushed Maggie off the bed.   She looked at me like, “What’s wrong? You never do that!”  She got a warm bath when I got back from my fruitless trip to get my sodas.  Now, she smells like dead stuff and Irish Spring soap.  Oh well.  

Schedule Du Jour…

Here is the schedule I made out for myself.  I am only half-heartedly sticking to it.  Getting up at three doesn't help. My friend Gittermommie says I am going to drive myself crazy trying to stick to it.   The OCD person in me geeks out about it though! lol

Daily Schedule…
6:00 - 7:00 Diet Cokes and radio
7:00 - 7:30  Breakfast and radio
7:30 – 10:00  Reading, browsing, radio and blogging
10:00 – 12:00 Computer gaming 
12:00 – 12:30 Lunch
12:30 – 2:00 Nap Time
2:00 – 5:00 Maggie’s walk
5:00 – 5:30 Supper
5:30 – 6:00 Shower and shave
6:00 – 6:15 Sunset of the day photo, blogging
6:15 – 8:00 Reading and music
8:00 – 9:00 Computer gaming 
9:00 – 9:30 Snack
9:30 – 10:00 Dad, medications and feeding Maggie
10:00 – 11:00  Browsing, Magazines, Music, and Reading
11:00 Bedtime

This Evening’s Sunset…

Helen Friday…

Helen didn’t cook the creamed potatoes.  Dad thought turnip greens and macaroni and cheese was enough.  She cooked some of the best fried chicken I had had in ages.  Helen’s cornbread was different again this week.   She seems to be trying different recipes.  I will have to ask dad about it. 

What’s For Lunches?

The Shadetree Mechanic…

A strange car pulled up in front of my house a little while ago.  Immediately my paranoia was piqued.  Did I have to answer the door?  Was I going to have to fool with strange visitors?  I turned off my loud stereo and stood in the kitchen, hiding, waiting for the inevitable knock on the door.  Then came the knock.   And another louder, more persistent knock.  “Hey! Andrew!  It’s George! Come to the door!” Phew! I was about to have an anxiety attack for a moment there. 

“I bought a new car,” George said.  “It’s a fixer upper.”

In front of my house was a 1984 Chevrolet Caprice Classic.  It looked in good shape for such an old car.  The paint was in fair condition and there was no body damage that I could see. 

“I am going to fix it up real nice,” George told me chomping on a cigar. “I paid $1500 dollars for it.  The engine doesn’t even use oil and it only has 98,000 miles on it.”

George and I rode down by the elementary school making a loop and coming back to my house.

“You’re going to have a great time fixing this old car up,” I told George getting out of the car. “It runs great.”

“I needed a hobby and I have lots of money now that I stopped drinking,” George replied with a grin.

I was proud for George.  George is no stranger to keeping an older car running after driving that 1981 Dodge Diplomat for decades.  This was just another sign of the good sobriety was doing in his life.  

“What is the first thing you are going to do to it?” I asked George as we stood in my front yard.

“New paint job and upholstery,” he replied.  “Dark Corvette emerald green on the outside and tan on the inside.”

“Sharp!” I said grinning.

George finally headed for home to eat a late breakfast and get in his sleep before working again another night.  I don’t think I’ve been prouder for George in years. 

Thoughts for the Day…

Anonymous comments are going off.  If you really want to comment then it only just takes about 5 minutes to sign up for a Google or Blogger account.  I am getting over 20 spam comments a day in the archives and it has gotten overwhelming.  I am busier than a cat covering up crap deleting all that junk every day.  The notifications are also filling up my email inbox and that aggravates me the most.

Helen Friday Today…

Friday is a special day for me.  I will look forward to all day of eating the special meal Helen cooks.  Luckily, dad didn’t get any hair brained ideas for things for Helen to prepare last night.

“Okay,” dad said after I had taken my medications. “What do you want for supper tomorrow?”

“I’ve been mulling it over in my mind all day,” I replied. “I want fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, turnip greens, creamed potatoes, and some of Helen’s wonderful biscuits.”

“What about dessert?” dad asked.

“Pear salad,” I replied.

Dad and I are stuck in this rut of either having Helen prepare fruit salad or pear salad.  I need to get Helen to cook something interesting like brownies or cookies. 

“That sounds like a really good meal,” dad told me. “It really helps me you picking the meals.  I run out of ideas of things for Helen to cook.”

Dad will get off of work around four and will head home to eat.   He said he couldn’t wait to get home and to enjoy his meal with mom.  Mom will bring me by a plate around three so the clock is already ticking.

Direction for the Day…

A few days ago, I made up this elaborate schedule for me to follow every day.  I felt I was just meandering through my days and needed more direction.  Well, I am already off my schedule.  I started out good getting my six diet Cokes for the day at 6 AM this morning and beginning to listen to the Elvis Duran radio show at 6 AM also.  Breakfast was supposed to be at seven and it is already after eight and I haven’t eaten yet.  So I have already gotten off schedule.  My grand idea is not going so well at this point.  Now is time for blogging, emailing, and browsing until 10 AM, so at least I am doing that.  After that, it is video game time till lunch at 12 PM then a nap and then book reading time.  It am going to keep trying this until I make a habit out of it.  I hate wasting hours just sitting here looking out the window and looking at the Twitter feed like I am prone to do.  

Sometimes I Get Lonely…

It gives me no more joy than to sit in mom’s bedroom as she lay in the bed talking.  That’s what I did for most of the afternoon.  Mom also lets me drink all the soda I want while I am there.  The fridge in the basement is full of it and all kinds of interesting varieties.  We mainly talked about her frets and worries.

“I was out of it last night,” mom told me. “I don’t think I am ever going to get over this cold.”

“You’ve had the flu,” I replied.

“But I’ve had both of the flu shots!”

“You had a variant that the shot didn’t cover.”

“I couldn’t even remember my own granddaughter’s name last night,” mom told me chuckling. “Your father was like, ‘Martha!!!’”

“Well, I forgot her birthday,” I replied feeling shameful trying to consol mom. “I still want to send her a card with some money.”

“I’ll help you with that,” mom said. 

Helen works nine to five and was still working. She came bustling into the bedroom just at that moment.

“Get up now Mrs. Martha,” she said with a grin. “I am changing your sheets.”

Mom climbed out of the bed with her hair all amiss.  She was still in her pajamas.  That was my cue to head on home.  Mom went and got on the couch in the den as I was leaving.

“I love you,” she told me. “You ought to do this everyday.”

“I would if you could pry me away from the Internet that long,” I said jokingly.

I drove home with the passing thought that I should stop by and bother George, but I worried I would wake him up from sleep.

Wanna Play?

I Could Live Like This Forever…

I am experiencing one of those medication or schizophrenia induced periods of euphoria this morning.  Everything is heightened.  Even my usual bland Wal-Mart orange drink tastes like champagne.  Food tastes ten times better and the chicken carbonara I just ate tasted like the most exquisite restaurant meal.  Every mp3 sounds like one of Mozart’s finest requiems.   I don’t want this to end.  I could deal with being stuck at home all day in front of a computer if I felt like this all the time.  

Thoughts for the Day…

Caught in Computer Hell…

I spent all day yesterday fooling around with my computers.  First, I installed Windows XP and hated it.  It was just too outdated.  Then, I installed Windows VIsta and was still having problems with Windows Update.  It wouldn’t install service packs one and two.  I then bit the bullet and reinstalled Windows 7 Ultimate.  Things are running smoothly now.  I still have to come up with $200 smackaroos to pay for a full license though.  I am on the clock and have 30 days.  Right now, I am backing up my computer to my D:Storage drive and reinstalling all my programs such as Photoshop and iTunes. 

Possible New Car in my Future?

“I think I am going to go ahead and buy your mother a new car,” dad said last night during our medication ritual.  “I am thinking of another Honda Civic.  I went today on my day off and looked at a few.”

I looked up intrigued.

“I am going to give you Martha’s old car,” dad told me. “Don’t get your hopes up just yet.  I am still mulling it over.”

Well, I couldn’t help but get excited.  Mom’s car is a 2006 Honda Civic LX.  It only has 17,000 miles on it.  Mom drives like a little old lady.  It would be the closest thing to getting a new car for me that I have experienced in decades.

“I was thinking we could sell your CR-V for about $10,000 and put vinyl siding on your house and get the outside fixed up,” dad furthered. “I want to paint your inside as well.”

“I want to keep my CR-V,” I said apprehensively wondering what dad would think.

“What are you going to do with two cars?” dad asked, smiling. “You rarely drive as it is.”

“I love that car and it will save miles on my new car,” I told him trying to sound convincing.

“We’ll think about it,” dad said as he got up from the couch to go start Maggie’s food ritual. 

I dreamt of Hondas last night.  Today, i want to go over to mom’s and just sit in her Civic awhile, read the owner’s manual, and check out all the features.  Dad told me not to get excited, but I just can’t help it.  He shouldn’t have told me all that last night.  I have always loved Hondas and cars.         

Thoughts for the Day…

Schizophrenia saved me in a way.  I know it’s ironic, but schizophrenia saved my addictive personality ass from doing hardcore drugs.  I would probably be dead now if I got hooked on crack, meth or prescription pain killers.  I was always too paranoid of the police and was always too lazy and paranoid to go through the hassle of getting all that money for the drugs and dealing with drug dealers.   Alcohol was a depressant.  It subdued my mental illness symptoms.   Most days of my drinking career would be spent in a mellow stupor.  Alcohol was cheap in a relative sense – a 12 pack of ice beer being only $6.99 and a good drunk at that.  It was also just a convenience store away.

Genius is genius…

I discovered Apple’s iTunes Genius feature last night.  I will never go back to regular radio again.  I had hours of almost unlimited varied music due to my extensive mp3 library.  I stayed up way too late last night lying on the bed with Maggie listening to good and interesting music.   It was like I had rediscovered my music library all over again.  I heard songs I never knew I owned. 

Twittering…

I’ve rediscovered Twitter again in earnest after about a year’s absence from that social media.  It really helps to have a lot of interesting people to follow, but you have to separate the wheat from the chaff so to speak.  I find people who I like and then follow the people they follow.  It then takes a few days to follow their tweets and unfollow the motivational quote quoters and the Internet business marketing guru types.   I also hate the constant link linkers.  I have to unfollow them as well.  I want to hear about your day or what interests you that interests me.   Interestingly, I have found the people that claim to be writers are the worst twitterers.  They spend all their time writing about the art of writing and never actually do any interesting writing – nothing creative or interesting at all.  I have had to unfollow dozens and dozens of so called writers for their completely insipid tweets.   

Lectures From George?

“You’re drinking Cokes like you used to drink beer,” George told me this afternoon after stopping by for awhile. “You’re obsessed.”

I had called George asking for a favor.  I wanted a 12 pack of regular Coca-Cola from Kroger.  George was the only person I could turn to. 

“You know? Normal people don’t drink 12 Cokes in a row,” George furthered, admonishing me. “Or in a day for that matter!”

I laughed nervously. “I’m not normal,” I said in my defense.

“Did you even realize yesterday was my fifth week of sobriety?” George asked.

“I certainly did,” I replied, proudly. “Your mother called me about it.”

George lit up a cigar and looked deep in thought.  He grabbed the remote and turned it to channel 59, Cop TV.  He didn’t stay long, wanting to eat supper and get a few more hours of sleep before work.

“Try not to drink all 12 tonight, okay?” George said as he was leaving. “You’re going to get sick!”

I smiled as I lit up a cigarette all the while looking innocent letting the irony soak in of a man who used to drink alcohol like a ghetto whino.  I never thought George would get in on the anti-coke bandwagon everyone seems to be climbing on about me and my habit.   I felt like I had just had one of the many lectures my father is known for giving to me.   It kind of pissed me off after George had left.  I realized then I have a problem.  I guess it is better than drinking 24 beers a day like I did for years.  It is all relative and the lesser of the many evils I have practiced during my life. 

Relaxing in the Sun on a Cold Winter’s Day…

The Meter Reader Cometh…

My World Today…

Today is my injection in the derriere.  Amazingly, I didn’t feel ill mentally last night like I normally do when my medication levels drop to it’s lowest level of the two weeks.  Dad asked me last night how I felt and I told him fine.  “You look good,” he said. “You look like you’re taking good care of yourself, Maggie, and the house.” 

Injection day is a special day because I get to get three regular 20oz Coca-Colas from the pharmacy on top of my six I got at 4 AM this morning.  We also weigh me to see if I’ve gained weight or lost.   I hope I’ve gained above 185 pounds so dad will leave me alone about the bulimia.  I’ve done really well about that lately.  I’ve only purged once in two weeks when I got indigestion.

Windows Hell…

My Windows Vista install decided to crap out on me yesterday.  Windows update wouldn’t work and I was getting all sorts of errors. Frustrated, I downloaded an evaluation copy of Windows 7 Ultimate – the next iteration of Microsoft’s Windows line of operating systems.  The install went flawless and I was soon back up and running without problems.

Now, I have 30 days to come up with $219.99 for a license to update the evaluation copy to a full licensed version.  This is going to prove daunting.  I am already obsessing over it immensely this morning.  I dropped hints to mom that I was going to need a couple of hundred bucks in the next 30 days.  She didn’t sound too enthused.  I guess I could always go back to Vista or Windows XP.  I have a license for both of those.    

Crumbs!

The Clock is Always Ticking…

“I hate working sometimes,” Helen told me as she walked down from the road carrying dad’s trashcan this morning.  “I’ve got so much work to do today.  Vacuum.  Clean the bathrooms.  Dust the front of the house.  Cook your mother’s lunch.”

I had walked up to the road to meet her offering to carry the trashcan for her.  Then mom was standing at the backdoor and asked Helen to clean and empty the cat’s litter boxes as well as we walked up under the portico to meet her.  Helen looked at me and rolled her eyes as she blew loudly.

“Not my favorite task,” Helen said with a frown as mom escaped back inside.  “I was hoping to avoid that today.”

“Poor dear,” I told her as I walked into the foyer and began to empty the litter box on the floor.  It was the least I could do after all the awesome meals Helen had cooked over the years.  

“Now I know why I don’t own cats,” I told Helen wincing as the stench of ammonia was overwhelming. 

Mom had already settled back into the bed when I walked into her bedroom.  She was dreading going to get her hair done she said. 

“I know Helen must think I am terrible sleeping all the time while she works so hard,” mom told me guiltily with a sigh as she pulled the covers tighter over her.

I was trying to think of something to say to console mom when Helen walked into the room to ask mom what she wanted for lunch.

“Just fix me some tuna salad,” mom replied. “I’ll make sandwiches.”

“Can I take the BMW to the grocery store?” Helen asked as she looked at me with a sly grin.

Mom told her to reach into her desk drawer for the key.  I smiled back wishing I could take it for a drive as well.   I realized then what an opulent life mom lives if it wasn’t for her obsessive compulsiveness and her schizophrenia.   I, too, have a pretty easy life when I am not under the throes of my mental illness.   Sometimes, it is hard to see the forest for all the trees as many people have often said over the years.

“Can I have some more Cokes?” I then asked mom after Helen had left.

I was rolling the dice.  I had already picked up my six for the day at 5 AM this morning.   Mom froze.  You could almost see her obsessive compulsive brain working. 

“Oh, I guess so!” Mom said blowing and exclaiming as if I had asked for a thousand dollars and a kilo of cocaine.  “You really don’t need to be drinking six more.”

“YES!” I exclaimed like a teenager let loose on a Saturday night at the mall.   

I walked down to the basement and got six regular diet Cokes, and you don’t know how pleasurable those Cokes were when I got home to chill them, then drink them.  Sometimes, it is the little victories like that that make my life so much more enjoyable.   

Frost on the Grass This Morning…

The Ding Dong Manifesto…

“Mom’s cooking!” George said excitedly as I walked in the front door of Mrs. Florene’s house this Sunday morning. “She’s been baking Valentine’s cookies all morning for Church.”

The house smelled wonderful.  There was the sweet scent of baking sugar cookies intermingled with the savory aroma of frying sausage.  My stomach protested that it must be filled and filled soon. 

“Come on!” George said. “I’ve got a website I want to show you!”

We walked into the den as George sat down at the computer desk waking his sleeping computer. 

“I found it yesterday,” he said. “I am addicted.”

George showed me this chat and webcam webpage were people were showing their private parts.  I couldn’t help but laugh.  I knew this would happen eventually.  I knew George would soon be drawn to the underworld of the Internet like a moth to a flame.

“It’s all ding dongs and no coochies,” I replied. “It’s kind of gross, George!”

“Wait a minute and you will see a woman,” George said impatiently as images of penises scrolled down the page.  He wanted me to like this site so badly.  Just then, Mrs. Florene walked into the den to ask what we were doing.  George quickly minimized the webpage and if a black man could blush, he would have been blushing. 

“Just showing Andrew this new poker website,” he said, lying.

“Y’all come on and eat breakfast,” Mrs. Florene then said interrupting George’s fun. “It is getting cold.”

Breakfast was buttermilk pancakes and that never tiresome Clarke Brother’s sausage.  We all grew quiet as we hungrily ate the food was so good.  The pancakes were so good I didn’t protest when Mrs. Florene put three more on my plate.  I never eat seconds these days due to my bulimia for the fear of getting too full. 

As I was leaving after coffee and TV in the den, Mrs. Florene handed me a small bag of heart shaped sugar cookies. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” she told me. 

George walked out with me to the car urging me to check out that website when I got home.

“It’s all ding dongs,” I said again, laughing. 

George looked so frustrated as he lit up a cigar and I drove off.  I had the biggest smile on my face driving home.  It’s good to have some friends again as Mrs. Florene and George are always up to something interesting.  It was going to be a good Valentine’s Day even if I didn’t have a sweetheart to call all my own. 

The Mentally Ill of the Night…

Mom called last night at midnight.

“I just wanted to see how you are doing,” she said, sniffling.

Did mom not realize it was midnight?  We keep weird hours us mentally ill folks. 

“I’m fine,” I said sleepily having been asleep for two hours.  “I like it when you call me just to talk and you’re not fretting over some situation or problem.”

Mom has been very, very sick.  We’re all trying not to catch whatever she has.  The obsessive compulsive in me frets every early morning I go to get my Cokes and I pick up that plastic sack she puts on the porch.  It’s got mom’s germs all over it! 

Mom went on to tell me she fell down the steps to the basement yesterday morning.

“I was delirious from my cold and lost my footing,” she said. “Your father thought he was going to have to call 911.  We thought I had broke my hip.”

“Mom!” I exclaimed. “You’ve got to be more careful!”

“The room just started to spin and down I went.”

“What’s Maggie doing?” mom then asked.

“She’s lying on the bed with me licking her paws and scratching various itches,” I replied. “Maggie has rituals, too, and we have to preen before bed.”

“Well, I will let you go,” mom said. “I just wanted to see what you were up to.  Give Maggie a goodnight hug for me.”

“Goodnight,” I said and hung up the phone.

It was a surreal night.  I remember later waking up around 3 AM and Maggie was going wild with my socks on the computer room floor.  Socks were being tossed everywhere.  I remember smiling and saying, “you get those damn socks, girl!”  I finally drifted off back to sleep. 

The Coke Ritual Stops For Nothing…

Picture me early this morning armed with a broom and multiple pans of hot water.  I was trying to ready my car for the short drive to mom and dad’s to get my Cokes.  I was ridding it of snow.  Mom had already called obsessing I wouldn’t make it.

“You sure you can make it up and down that steep hill by Hyman Pines?” she asked.

“Let’s hope anti-lock brakes and my four wheel drive don’t fail me,” I replied.

What a beautiful drive!  It was a rare winter wonderland in the South this morning.  The NWS officially reported us as getting two and half inches, but it was more.  I could tell by the amount of snow I had to clean off my car.

Mom was standing at the back door when I pulled up.  Mom and dad’s driveway was especially tricky to navigate.  I basically slid down it to the back of the house – my brake pedal constantly vibrating from the effects of the anti-lock brakes trying to do their best.  

“Here’s your cokes and some food and a flashlight in case you get stuck on the way home,” mom said fretting.

I laughed and smiled internally. It was just a two and a half mile drive. Dearest mom.  In a sack were four cans of chicken noodle soup, a plastic spoon, a box of crackers, dried tropical fruit and nut mix, and a little Mag-light.  Mom always covers all the bases.   I waved goodbye and had a fun four wheel drive filled drive back home to Maggie who was waiting at the front door.   

Helen Saves the Day!!!

I was standing in mom and dad’s kitchen yesterday morning before the snow started when Helen began to read dad’s grocery list.

“Oh no!” Helen said abruptly. “We’re not having Hamburger Helper.  Mr. John just has never eaten it.  He doesn’t know what it’s like.”

Helen then turned to me.

“What do you want for supper, baby?” Helen asked.

“You pick!” I replied, excited at this turn of events.

Helen decided on pork loin, creamed potatoes, snap beans, giant lima beans, cornbread, green salad w/ homemade Ranch dressing, and pear salad.  I watched as she reached into the kitchen drawer containing the envelope that usually has $75 to $100 in it for Helen to buy groceries.  Off to the grocery store she went and I drove on home after checking on mom.

Helen came by in the snow storm to bring me my meal after she cooked.

“Thank you so much, Helen,” I said, thanking her profusely. “This weather is terrible to drive in.”

“You enjoy your meal, baby,” she said as she smiled ear to ear and then left.

Dad later came by to give me my medications and said, “I’ve got the maid from hell!  She won’t even cook what I want for supper!”  I laughed and laughed knowing I was in on the game.  Helen had saved the day.

Hamburger Helper?!?!

Commercials work.  Dad asked me last night about letting Helen cook Hamburger Helper today for our Friday Helen meal.

“I keep seeing the commercials for it,” dad said. “And it looks good and easy to fix.”

I was secretly disappointed.  I wanted my Southern soul food.  I usually get to pick the meals, but I can’t argue with my father.  It is futile.  He is paying Helen dearly for these meals after all. 

“Have her doctor it up good,” I told dad trying to save a desperate situation. “Get cheeseburger macaroni and add extra ground beef and real cheddar cheese.”

I didn’t want to tell dad how bland Hamburger Helper can taste.   It is sawdust in a box in my opinion. 

Mom the Commissary…

Mom’s mental illness intrigues me some days.  Her latest obsession is keeping me in cigarette lighters.  My lighter ran out a few weeks ago and I had to light a few cigarettes with the stove.  This worried mom to death.  She can’t stand for me to do without as I’ve said before on the blog.  It is just part of her obsessive compulsive nature. 

Well, mom got Judy, her go-to employee at the pharmacy, to order a case of expensive Bic cigarette lighters.  They came in this week and mom has been doling them out to me with my cokes every few days.  One Bic lighter will probably last me a month.  So now I have this glut of cigarette lighters.   I smiled this morning when I drove over to get my cokes at 4 AM and there were three Bic lighters in the plastic sack with my diet Cokes.  It is so obsessive.  This kind of stuff drives dad crazy about mom as he can’t control her and these compulsions.  :-)

A Fun Night…

Yesterday evening Mrs. Florene called me to come to supper.  I had just cooked some sesame chicken in the microwave when she left the message on my answering machine.  Well, that sesame chicken went into some Tupperware and into the fridge quick.  I couldn’t pass up a meal cooked by one of my favorite Southern chefs.  She also cooked one of my favorite meals.  Fried cubed steak, steamy sticky rice, steamed broccoli with lemon and butter, and biscuits.  We also had fruit salad for dessert. 

After eating, George and I sat in his car smoking for what must have been a good hour listening to Gospel and talking.  We were talking about the Internet and it being like a library in your own home.  George had discovered Wikipedia yesterday.  This really intrigued me George using Wikipedia.  My, have the times changed.  We’ve gone from getting drunk while watching Judge Judy to living sober and reading about the Maunder Minimum on Wikipedia.  George always seems to surprise me. 

I’m on Snow Alert and Maggie is on Cat Alert!

All Good Things Must Be Repossessed…

I watched with interest this morning as a tow truck drove off with my neighbor’s brand new Jaguar.  His car had been repossessed, and there was quite a scene this morning as he protested with the tow truck driver that he had made his payment.   He even went so far as to get in the car and lock the doors.  The tow truck driver just casually proceeded to hook up the car and was going to carry it off with him in it.

I’ve noticed, too, that his drug trafficking has tapered off drastically.  The cops now drive by and watch constantly.  The front yard had become a muddy quagmire from all the cars and trucks pulling in day and night.  That has stopped.  It is oddly quiet over there now. 

“Oh, he is just getting lots of pussy,” dad said again optimistically last night. “You’re just being paranoid.  Remember! You’re schizophrenic!”

“There is no such thing as the pussy police in this town,” I replied. “And the cops drive by constantly.”

Well, my drug dealing neighbor has now fallen on hard times.  It’s the Grapes of Wrath of drug trafficking.  I watched this afternoon as he had to walk down to the convenience store to pick up a twelve pack of beer and some cigarettes.  Oh, how the once mighty have fallen.  I am trying not to gloat, but all that shit next door worried the hell out of me.  It played into my paranoid schizophrenic nature – thinking my car would get stolen again by an addict and you can never trust a crackhead.     

Sleep Eluded Me Last Night…

I am lucky on nights like last night when I can’t sleep that I don’t have to work the next day.  It is truly a blessing and lately my sleeping habits have been so erratic that I don’t know what each night will bring sleep wise.  I slept for four hours and awoke wide awake around 2 AM.  As if I had drank a quart of caffeine, I was buzzed and ready to start my day.  I drove over to get my cokes after letting my car warm up and settled in my command center to begin watching the weather, writing, reading, and twittering.  It is 7:00 AM and I am beginning to feel winded from my post midnight Internet marathon.  Maybe I will sleep soon after I procure more cigarettes before the snow starts.  I am obsessing about that this morning. 

Charlie came over last night before dad arrived with my medications.  He brought piping hot vegetable beef soup and warm cornbread his wife had cooked.  It was a pleasant surprise.  He didn’t stay long, but we had a short exchange about the weather and snow in the South you can read on my weather blog.   Charlie believes weather forecasting is akin to horoscopes.  

Has Good Radio Gone the Way of the Do Do?

I keep a little FM radio next to my computer.  Most days I listen to a top40 pop station out of Columbus, Georgia.  My only other choice is “The Rooster” – a country music station I abhor.  We have a little AM radio station in town that plays Gospel and I think George is the only person who listens to it.  

Well, early this morning I got the bright idea that A)I have an Internet connection and B)I am connected to the World.  I am frankly tired of WCGQ out of Columbus as they play the same music over and over, and I swear they play Jay-Z’s Empire State of Mind rap song ten times a day.  They also play Lady Ga Ga and Ke$ha ad nauseum. 

Well, I searched for “top40” stations around the World.  After listening to quite a few, I settled on a top40 station out of Auckland, New Zealand.  I was pleasantly surprised when they played Paramore’s “Only Exception” – a song I love and a band who only seems to be popular overseas.   I was also surprised when they played some now ancient Gun’s N Roses.  This was starting to sound promising.  Then it happened…  They played Jay-Z’s Empire State of Mind and then that mind boggling awful Ke$ha song, Blah! Blah! Blah!.  My hopes were completely dashed.  Can I not escape the mediocrity that is American pop music these days?  I was hoping for interesting and new music coming from the other side of world.  Instead, I got a handful of steaming crap.  Sigh. 

If You’re Crazy and You Know It…

A few months ago, I was lying in bed when I felt this strange sensation in my mind. “Oh Shit!” my mind frantically screamed.  It was the beginning of one my especially troublesome bouts with schizophrenia – one of many.  I immediately jumped up and dialed mom’s number, but hung up before she could answer.  Dad would be angry with me.  I called 911 and they took me to the emergency room.  I talked some to the paramedics, but as my illness progressed in it’s intensity, I grew quiet and withdrawn.  

In the emergency room, I began to believe the doctors and nurses were laughing at me.  They sent in person after person to talk to me. “But they’re laughing at me!” my mind screamed.   I would stare at the ceiling and just rock back and forth.  I wouldn’t say a word – even when they sent in an extremely kind social worker to talk to me.  Each person would leave the room frustrated.  They all wanted to help me, but I couldn’t communicate with them to tell them what was wrong.  It was maddening in it’s most maddening sense.  I could still hear the nurses laughing at me down at the nurses station down the hall!

I was freezing cold and had balled up on the upright hospital bed trying to stay warm as mom walked in the room.  “Thank you God!” I said at the sight of her.  It was the first words I had spoken in the two hours I had been in the emergency room. 

“Dr. Shriver doesn’t know what to do with you,” mom said with bed hair.  “They say you won’t tell them what’s wrong.”

“They’re laughing at me mom!”

I could hear the nurses cackling.  Just then, the doctor walked in.

“We are going to sedate him and send him home with you,” he told my mother. “Let him sleep until he feels better.”

“He says y’all are laughing at him,” mom told the doctor.

The doctor frowned and instructed a nurse practitioner to get me some medications – something to calm me down and something to help me sleep.

“Mom, this was a mistake,” I said with a pleading air to my voice. “I want to go home with Maggie.”

I remember mom getting me home and in the bed.  I distinctly remember Maggie jumping up on the bed with me and she began to lick my hair which aggravated me and soothed me at the same time.   I went to sleep and slept for 14 to 15 hours and was a different person mentally when I woke up.  The storm had passed.  You know the hardest part of this whole ordeal?  I knew it was happening.  I knew I was acting and thinking crazy.  It was as if I had two minds – a schizophrenic mind and a rational, sane mind.  I will never forget the futility I felt in that emergency room for as long as I live.  I hope it never happens again.  

Happiness in Plastic…Rickie Lee Jones, Here We Come!

Dawn this Morning…

Frantic Calls at 7:45 AM…

“Your diet Cokes froze and burst all over the porch,” mom told me frantically after I picked up the phone. “I put you some fresh ones out.”

“It’s okay,” I replied. “I am not drinking them anymore.”

“What?!?!” mom asked sounding so worried. “You always get your Cokes. You’ve been getting those Cokes for probably a year now.”

“Y’all are treating me like a little kid about them,” I replied. “It is embarrassing.  I am thirty seven years old.  I don’t want to be treated like that and I don’t want to drink them anymore.  It is a hassle I don’t need.”

“You’re going to get a terrible lack of caffeine headache,” mom said, warning me.

“I’ll take some Tylenol and aspirin,” I replied.

“Don’t do this to me,” mom said, sounding so flustered.  “I am going to worry to death about you.  You love those Cokes and I enjoy getting them and giving them to you.  I don’t have much of a life and looking after you gives me something to do.”

I felt terrible.  I knew this would happen.  It would send mom into a tailspin.  One thing about my mom is she does things out of love and concern, and it all ties into her mental illness exacerbating it all.  Dad does things out of a sense of responsibility and duty.  They both have two completely different modus operandi.  

“Come get your Cokes,” mom pleaded.  “I will bring you three more at lunch when I buy your groceries.  We just won’t tell your father.”

I gave in.  I drove over to find mom in her nightgown standing at the backdoor with a plastic bag of diet Cokes.  I brought them home and began drinking them.  I do love them.  I don’t have many comforts in my austere life and they are a joy to drink.  My obsessive compulsive nature, like mom, loves rituals, and this is one ritual I enjoy.  Well, so much for my protest.  I always was a softie for mom.  

A Glutton for Punishment…

I woke up at 5:30 AM wide awake.  I cooked a simple breakfast of four scrambled eggs (two were for Maggie) and some toast.  I was sitting in the den watching The Death and Destruction Channel (weather channel) and made the mistake of saying the word “walk”.  I had set forth a chain of events that would lead me to walking Maggie in 23 degree cold.  Maggie immediately went over to the piano to sit and watch the leash. 

“Come on girl,” I said after getting dressed and out of my sleeping gear.  “Let’s take you for a walk.”

Maggie wiggled so wildly and excitedly that it was hard to get her leash on.  I’ve heard dogs take on the personalities of their owners and I believe it now.  Maggie is about these walks as I am about my diet Cokes, the Internet or my cigarettes.  We are obsessed.  We both love rituals.

We didn’t walk for long as I froze my skinny ass off.  We walked for an hour around the neighborhood stopping at every little interesting object or smell.  Despite the cold, I actually enjoyed today’s walk.  The breaking of dawn.  The magical hour happening.  The numerous school buses loaded with kids passing by.  A felt part of a bigger picture this morning; a far cry from the little world I am usually ensconced in that is my Internet command center.   I promised Maggie to take her for the full six miles tomorrow.   Maybe when the day has grown longer and warmed up some.  She will be at the piano waiting impatiently as always. 

Anti-Coke Protest Starting Tomorrow…

I realized today my parent’s are as crazy as me.  They’re all crazy as shit.  The whole family is.  My brother and sister can be crazy as well.  I just didn’t get the overachiever gene they all seemed to get.  So I am stuck in poorsville.   I also got stuck with the particularly nasty strain of mental illness that runs in the family – nastier than most of the others of my family got except mom. 

A few facts about the diet coke fiasco…

• It was my idea to stop drinking so many diet Cokes.  It was cutting into my grocery budget and I was frankly lazy about carrying in all those 12 packs every week.  It was a hassle.  So mom started to buy me Wal-Mart orange drink mix that was a dollar and something for six quarts of drink.  I was happy.
• Mom started back the six diet Cokes a day thing.  How this started, I don’t remember.  But she started getting sodas from my father’s pharmacy to give to me every day as a treat.
• It was I who started the three caffeine free diet Cokes rule (I get three regular and three caffeine free).  I was having a particularly bad spate with my anxiety/panic attacks and thought the lessening of intake of caffeine would help.  I can extremely distinctly remember calling mom to tell her to get some caffeine free diet Cokes.

This recent “tightening of the belt” by mom and dad over my diet Cokes has me pissed off today.  I am burning mad – fiery as hell.  So tomorrow I go on protest.  It will drive my mother absolutely bat shiat crazy when I refuse my six cokes tomorrow.  She will, in turn, drive my father crazy about it as well.  I am lucky in that mom has this obsessive compulsive tendency to never let me “do without”.  It’s my way of giving back to my father who’s been exceptionally nutsy about this whole diet Coke affair.  Harumpfff!    And dammit, Maggie, quit barking! LOL