The Crazy Kooks of AA...

George gave me a long lecture today about how people who go to AA are crazy, religious kooks.  I just smiled and shook my head in disagreement.  George is the poster child for needing AA. 

Had something happen on the way back home from Fat Albert's.  An extremely disconcerting bout of vertigo while driving.  I was never so glad to be home.

Not doing anything for New Year's.  Just a quiet evening at home as Maggie cowers from all the loud fireworks.  Glad to be sober today and to have somewhat good mental health. 

H-e-e-elp!

I picked up the phone a while ago to call mom.  

"You can't call and bother her!" I exclaimed and slammed down the phone after dialing just a few numbers.

Maybe I wanted someone to talk to.   Maybe I wanted mom to drive down to the drugstore and get some of my "happy" pills, the Klonopin.  All I knew was that I wanted relief from today's feelings.  This knot in my stomach that feels like anxiety will get out of control.  My father is useless in such matters except for administering pills. 

I refrained from calling and got to watching "The Worlds Worst Jails."  I was lying on the bed and watching these people made me feel better.  It was almost like I was benefiting from other's suffering.  I should be in jail.  I had so many DUI's over the years it is amazing I am not in lockup.

"You're not in jail.  You're not in jail," I kept repeating to myself as I watched.  "You could be in far worse shape!"

I feel better now.  The anxiety has somewhat melted away and my mind is clear again of unseemly thoughts.  I realized that this would be prime drinking time for me.  The alcohol would chase away my blues, the anxiety would disappear, and I wouldn't have a care in the world.  Thankfully, I have a choice today and will just lie down and rest.  All things must pass.... 

The Pay Packet...

Me and mom's little 3 dollar a day monetary arrangement has proved interesting for the holidays.  My father has been off of work for over a week.  If he were to find out my mother is giving me money, he would go bananas.  Mom has been making what I call little pay packets and she will drive by and stick it in my mailbox and blow her horn.  It never ceases to make me smile.  You know?  She could come inside and say hello, but she is a woman on a mission. 

I asked mom why she doesn't just give me money for a week and stop these daily visits. 

"I don't want you to get drunk," she replied. 

It's not like I can just save up the money and buy a twelve pack of beer.  That's my family, though.  There is nothing uncomplicated about my mother. 

Dear George...

George was in a surly mood on this morning's jaunt for coffee.

"It must be nice having a father who takes care of everything," George told me sounding really spiteful. 

"George, you shit.  That is rich coming from you.  Your mother takes care of everything for you.  You don't even have to pay a bill," I replied scoffing. 

George grinned devilishly and asked me if I wanted another refill on my coffee trying to play it off.

I then swung by mom and dad's house.  They were taking down their Christmas decorations.  It made me feel sad.  Often, when I was a child my mother would yank down the decorations a day after Christmas.  It would usually end up in a screaming match between us. 

"You going to take down your tree soon?" dad asked.

"I am keeping it up till after New Years," I replied. 

I came home and sat down on my sofa watching my beautifully lit tree.  "You're not coming down so soon," I mumbled to myself. 

So what did you get for Christmas?

I had a blessed Christmas this year.  Dad and mom got me a Nintendo Wii which thrilled me to death.  Charlie got me a game for the Wii, Legend of Zelda, and so did my brother and his family, Star Wars: The Force Unleashed.  My sister and her husband got me a new Auburn baseball cap which I will wear incessantly just like the one before.

I still haven't checked the comments on yesterday's post.  I fear there is some pretty scathing stuff written there.  I should have turned comments off.  It is far too easy to come vent on this blog than with another person in real life.

I hope you all had a Merry Christmas.  Blogs sure have been silent and that must mean people are busy enjoying their gifts and time with their family.  I feel so lucky to be around for yet another magical time of the year.       

Blow 'em out of the water...

"You know your dad is gay and he is drugging your mother to keep her complacent,"  my uncle told me over the phone this morning after wishing me a merry Christmas. 

"Roger, don't go spreading that rumor around, okay?" I replied with a tone of utmost seriousness.

The damage was done, though.  He had already called my mother and told her that as well.  Merry effing Christmas. 

I've known for years that dad is gay.  Him and Charlie have been inseparable for the past 30 years.  It is obvious they are a couple.

Mom called me later asking for my opinion.

"Do you think your father is gay?" she asked.

"Rachel always swore he was," I replied of my ex-wife.

I didn't outright say it myself.  I wished mom a merry Christmas and told her not to worry too much about it.  I love my parents just the same. 

Bitterly Cold...

My car barely cranked this morning at 5:00 AM in the dark.  It was 19 degrees outside. Don't ask me why I was up at such an ungodly hour.  I couldn't sleep and I was out of cigarettes.  I asked mom to put my cigarettes on the back porch the night before so I wouldn't wake them when I arrived. 

It barely climbed above freezing today for the rest of the day.  I so wanted to go watch trains, but was only down there for 30 minutes before the cold and chill chased me back to my car.  I saw one mixed freight come rumbling by and that was it.

I did swing by Fat Albert's to see George and for coffee early this morning.  He was all disgruntled to have to work on Christmas day. "Effing slave drivers," was today's catch phrase.  Convenience stores seem to close for no one or anything.  I spent a Christmas working at a convenience store once upon a time. 

Dad's already asked me if I've received money in any of my Christmas cards yet.   So far, I've received $40 dollars and I sure as hell ain't telling him.  That is none of his business.  He can't control everything in my life.

Our Big Christmas was Today...

 

Dad watching over the stove and all the goodies. 
My little niece, Lilly, butter basting the yeast biscuits.

The table all set and ready.  The candles need to be lit.

The Christmas tree covered in presents.

My two nieces getting into a Cheezit box before lunch.

My brother bottle feeding his daughter, Olivia. 

The food all ready to be plated up.  Looks so pretty and scrumptious. 

The meal at last as we sat down to laugh, eat, and enjoy each other's company.

Oh Bringer of Sanity, I Speaketh of Thee...

Behold, the little pills that fill my gullet.  Arleen had asked me what anti-depressants I am on.  I am on Luvox used primarily to treat obsessive compulsiveness.  And Lexapro for depression.  I don't think the Luvox is working so well for the obsessive compulsiveness, but great as an anti-depressant.  I can still drink a 12-pack of cokes in two hours and smoke 3 packs of cigarettes in 12 hours so the obsessive compulsiveness is still there. 

If you are a consumer of psychiatric care, what medications are you on and what works for you?  It is a painstaking trial and error process to find the right combination of medications.  It took me and my doctors years.  And there is still room for improvement. 

Christmas Magic...

Were you one of those children who could never sleep on Christmas Eve?  I was and I remember my disappointment when I realized Santa wasn't real.  Santa's sleigh was a 1976 Ford Ranger Custom.  It was sitting in the front yard as Charlie and my father unloaded our gifts.  I walked out of my bedroom crying to find my mother standing in the hall in her pajamas.

"What's wrong honey?" My mom asked.

"Santa's not real.  There is no Santa. Dad and Charlie are Santa," I replied.

"Santa's sleigh broke down and your father and Charlie are helping him get his presents around town," I remember my mom saying.

I was placated somewhat, but still had suspicions. 

Now that I am grown, I realize Santa is alive and well in all our hearts.  The gift giving.  The wonderful food.  The decorations.  All things that prove to me that Santa is still working his magic.  I think this Christmas is going to be truly magical for me this year.  I can't wait to share it with you all on my blog.  Merry Christmas! 

Silly Billy...

I've been so silly and giddy all day.  I saw this and just laughed and laughed.  Tis the season to be festive me thinks. 

Christmas Chewbacca

******

Mom and dad were busy cooking a coconut cake for Christmas this afternoon.  I hate I didn't bring my camera for pictures.  Preparing the cake was so elaborate.  I got a taste of the scrumptious icing and it was delicious. 

Hey, from that crazy guy in Alabama...

I woke up this morning feeling giddy.  Maggie actually woke me up digging at her cooties.  I fell asleep again and woke up to Maggie licking my head.  What a way to start the day!

"Can I come and get my cokes?" I asked mom in a phone call.

"Okay," mom said. "I will open the back door."

My father was there when I arrived.

"This is a surprise!" I told him excited.

We went ahead and took my medications for the day.  I felt even giddier on the drive home.  I tell ya, these two anti-depressants I am taking are working well. 

I Can Now Say it is Christmas...

Tree Acquired...

Mom fully instigated today's trip to get me a Christmas tree. We hopped in my car and headed to a local town with a nursery renowned for their beautiful spruces.  I knew which tree I wanted when I pulled up in the lot.  Mom paid and the attendant loaded the tree in my car.  I will post pictures when I get it up and decorated.  It is still in the car at this moment. 

Going Back to School...

I've thought of this often over the past few weeks.  I have decided I want to go back to school to be a car mechanic.  I am going to ask dad tonight about it and see what he thinks.  I've always had a knack with working on cars.  My first car was a '72 Chevelle and I pampered it.  The major hurdle to doing this is the cost of a tool set and tool box.  Rachel got all my tools in the divorce. 

She's Not Hard to Please...

I am almost too pooped to blog tonight.  I spent the day with my great aunt.  I took her to Auburn to buy her groceries and then we swung by McDonald's to get a hamburger.  I owed my father a big favor and he gave me the day off from work.

Talked to mom tonight about my groceries tomorrow.

"Oatmeal cookies!" I exclaimed as my mind got caught up with my body.

"Milk, too?" mom asked.

Remember when I was at the hospital cafeteria last week?  Well, they had awesome corn dogs and that has stuck in my mind.  I told mom to get me two packages to deep fry.   

Magic Porn Machines...

No matter what your stance on G.W. Bush, you have to admit he has been some Internet comedy gold.  I thought this was just hilarious. 

Gratitude...

Gratitude... I've got it.  I worry about being all pollyannaish on this blog.  I have so much gratitude lately, though.  Just a moment ago, I was laying in bed resting with Maggie and I felt giddy.  I keep saying, "If you were homeless then you couldn't have this."  Maggie.  My warm bed. My TV.  Internet on demand.  Warm and dry clothes.  Central heating and air.  I really owe my father so much.

Earlier in the day, I went over for my two Cokes.  Dad surprised me by being there and not at work.

"Help me with some lights outside," he told me.

We got out and finished stringing the rest of his Christmas lights on his front hedge.  I love these times with my father.  He sure had a dry humor about him today. I laughed and laughed and we had a good time. 

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas...

"We've got to get you a tree!" Dad exclaimed when I walked through the kitchen door this evening.

"I know," I replied. "I am really late this year."

Mom and dad were doing their Christmas cards for this year. There was a big stack to mail out. I sat down and took all this in. I love this time of year. The decorations. The lights. The ornamental trees in everyone's windows.

"Your father stood in line till midnight to get your present last night," my mother told me.

I looked at dad with a grin to ask, "Really?"

"Yeah," he said excited. "You're going to be so surprised."

My parents aren't known for "cool" presents. I can only begin to imagine what was so enticing that people stood in a line until midnight to buy. I'm gonna have dreams of Ipods and Iphones tonight while I go to sleep. It sure will be better than that prison camp I dreamed about last night.

Merry Christmas

The Stomach Growls...

I just drove over for my customary two Coca-Colas.  Dad was in the kitchen cooking for Christmas.  Remember that frou frou dressing my cousin made for Thanksgiving?  Dad was making sure we had a traditional (for us) dressing this Christmas. 

"Corn bread. A whole chicken.  It is going to be tasty," Dad told me as I stood in the kitchen door. 

It smelled wonderful.  When my mother came down with her late onset schizophrenia, my father had to learn to cook.  And cook he did.  

We went ahead and took my medications while I was there.  I hate to wait until dad arrives at my home so I was happy to oblige. 

It is cold today.  A blustery, thoroughly winter-like day. A good day for model railroading projects and listening to Internet radio.  I am off for some relaxing fun!

Today at Fat Albert's...

George was busy printing out lottery tickets as I walked in Fat's. 

"These lottery people are crazy!" he exclaimed to me after it had slowed down some. 

"Dad always says the lottery is a tax on people who are bad at math," I replied.

George laughed and laughed.

"You know? That is kinda true!" he told me, grinning.

"Do you still see Pookie?" I asked George.

Pookie was George's long time girlfriend.  She is the only overweight crack addict I have ever met.

"She in jail," George replied and I felt terrible for asking.   

George continued on to tell me his mother has been asking about me.  Mrs. Jones, despite her age, is one of the best southern cooks I have ever encountered. 

"Tell her I send my love," I told George.

"She will love to hear that."

I finished my coffee and headed home.  I love these little routines like going to Fat's everyday.  I didn't realize how much I have missed George till we got reacquainted. 

Benadryl, it was good while it lasted...

Mom asked about my Benedryl addiction today. 

"You about drove me nuts with that Benedryl crap," she told me over the phone an hour ago.  "Every time I would turn around you were wanting two more dollars for Benedryl."

I can get addicted to anything and they say that Benedryl is non habit forming.  I was taking 12 pills a day at the end. 

"What did it do for you?" mom asked. "I would think it would make you all jittery and nervous."

"Au contraire," I replied. "It calmed me down.  Made me sleepy.  And I felt better.  Or so I thought."

I had to quit cold turkey.  I didn't have any withdrawal symptoms other than being psychologically addicted.  Dad still gives me 6 every night and I put them in a large ceramic container in my kitchen.   

Helen's Supper...

This meal hit the spot on today's cold evening. Helen cooked a ham steak, with rice pilaf and almonds, broccoli and cauliflower medley, fried okra, and yeast rolls. I am extremely grateful for these home cooked meals every Friday.

Bathroom Break!

I was getting a big laugh out of Maggie this morning.  It was cold and she so wanted to go outside.  She would stick her head out the dog door and then have second thoughts.  She turned to look at me like, "But I gotta pee!!!"  I was in the kitchen baking blueberry muffins for breakfast.

I swung by Fat Albert's for a cup of coffee again early this morning.  Mom's three dollars she gives me everyday is proving to be a blessing both mentally and physically.  

"Ride with me out to the lake when I get off," George said.

I knew any ride with George would involve drinking and driving. 

"Maybe some other time," I replied, drinking my coffee.

The alcoholic in me really wanted to go.   I wanted to get rip roaring drunk off of that cheap malt liquor George drinks.  Thankfully, cooler heads prevailed.   

Blog Beginnings and Looking Ahead...

One bitterly cold December night years ago I got on the web at my deceased grandmother's house and searched for information about homelessness.  I had been homeless for about 2 months, recently divorced.  I found The Homeless Guy blog.  Wow! Homeless people have websites and people are helping them too!  I quickly realized, though, that this "homeless guy" was a con.  There was nothing to help the homeless on his site.  Only him.  His gift bags for the homeless idea was something for Christian "do gooders" to do when a lot of the homeless wanted burgers, cigarettes, and beer. 

I did start my own blog.  It was called "Homeless and Disabled in Alabama."  Wasn't that just pretentious?  The Homeless Guy listed me on his blog as "The Grumpy Old Man" because I criticized his criticism of getting chicken everyday at the Rescue Mission.  At the time, I would have been so appreciative of any meal not cooked lukewarmly over a fire.  The Grumpy Old Man moniker stuck and I named my next blog after that just to spite the old curmudgeon and he was over a decade older than me. 

Years later, we are both still blogging.  He is about to be homeless again, failing to pay his $150 dollar a month rent.  I think I have grown immensely these past few years and haven't had to belabor my readership with needs and requests for money.  I am still overly dependant upon my parents, but not in a burdensome way.   I am happy most days, content to go about my simple life. I also realized with kindness that the least of "The Homeless Guy's" problems was not having a home.  He has some deep seated emotional problems that no drug or possibly only therapy can fix.  I had to become the better man and be less critical of him.   It was hard, and probably one of the hardest things I have done since writing this blog.  He invites criticism by the way he writes on his blog and interacts with others. 

I thought tonight what I want to be doing next year this time.   Another Christmas will be approaching and I will be going on 38 years old.   My main goal is to be independent and working for someone other than my father.   I realize social security disability can be willy nilly and I can't always rely on that being there.  I also want my schizophrenia to be in complete remission along with these anxiety attacks I am struggling with.  That might mean a second opinion from another doctor.  I will cross that bridge when I get there. 

At least he has cut down...

"How did you quit drinking?" I asked George down at Fat Albert's this morning.

I expected a long diatribe dissing AA as George thinks the people that go to AA are crazy, brain-washed, nuts.

"Oh, I still drink," George said with a grin. "I drink a six pack of malt liquor every afternoon when I get off of work."

"Your mom still won't let you drink inside, will she?" I asked.

George grinned and said, "I drink them in my Buick."

At least he has cut down.  I never could moderate my drinking.  I would always drink till I passed out or fell over.  This lessened drinking is the key to George holding his current job.

"You still drink?" George asked me.

"I haven't had a drink in over a year," I proudly reported back.

"Your life must be so boring," George replied with a look of distaste on his face. 

I let the snide remark slide down and off my back.  George will probably always drink.  Some find AA.  Many don't and spend their lives in drunken chaos.  George sure has seen his fair share of drinking related hardships.  I wish I could rescue my friend, but can only lead by example.  

Good Times!!!

I was just laying in the bed, watching TV, and listening to the radio.  Maggie was laying beside me doing her usual before slumber grooming.   The word snow is being bantered around by the various weather officials.  And my injection worked remarkably well yesterday to give me a wonderful rest of the day and week. 

This is the stuff legendary good times are made of in my life and on this blog.  Thank you all for reading and I hope these kinds of positive, life affirming blog posts outweigh all the others, and will be what you remember me by.  Not the sick, mentally ill drunkard who almost lost everything. But the upbeat, excitable, good natured fellow I know I can be if I just put in some minimal effort.  

You Just Gotta Do It!

Yesterday morning was not fun.  It was time for my injection and I was having a terrible anxiety attack.  Mom called first.

"I am coming to get you," she said. 

"Mom, I can't," I told her. "I am having a terrible attack."

Mom called dad and dad sent Tim to pick me up in the company van.  Tim brought pills for me to take to stop the attacks.  I greedily took them as he stood in my den and Maggie gave him the twice over. 

Well, we got there and my nurse wasn't there.  She had her finals yesterday.  I already felt bad and was just about beside myself when they told me to come back at 4:00.  Tim was so kind and we drove around for awhile waiting for 4:00 PM to arrive.  An hour after my injection I was feeling normal again. 

Odds and Ends...

Tonight is nice.  It is raining pretty hard making wonderful noises as the rain drops splatter on my storm windows.  I will sleep well.

Maggie is out in the rain barking.  She is trying to thwart my attempts to put on her flea treatment.  It has been an all day battle.  I am sure Maggie's muddy feet will come flying up on the bed pretty soon.

Spent two hours at work discussing ice hockey with one of dad's employees.   And I don't even like sports.  I raced tonight to finish the deliveries before dark fell.  I hate to drive after dark as my eyesight is poor. 

Grocery day is tomorrow.  Another lemon meringue pie is on the agenda.  I special requested two gallons of milk as well.  Yum! Milk!

Parents have their tree up...

I get mine on Tuesday when I get my injection in the derrière.

Everything's Fine, Mostly...

I always erroneously think my brother and sister have wonderful, magical, perfect lives.  They don't.  I just drove over to my parents house for some Diet Dr. Pepper.  My sister was in the den, crying.  Her daughter was crawling all over her.

"I'm sorry," my sister said wiping the snot from her nose. "I had a moment of weakness."

"What's wrong?" I asked sitting down next to her.

"Being a parent.  Being a doctor.  It is all too stressful for me.  I can't take it anymore," my sister sobbed. 

"What would dad's mother say?" I asked her.

"To drink some sweet tea, eat a good lunch, take a nap, and sit on the back porch till you get to feeling better," my sister said smiling.

I'm not particularly close to my sister, but I hope I helped.  I often think of what dad's deceased mother would say on such occasions.  It helps.  

Wonderful Hospital Food...

Memaw came through her surgery okay.  Mom said she was asking about something to eat as they wheeled her to intensive care.  All my mother's family is in town.  It took a calamity to bring them together.  My aunt Pam is staying at my parent's house.  Have I told you how gorgeous she is?  She doesn't age at all. 

I discovered the hospital cafeteria yesterday.  I have never eaten better food in a hospital.  They had macaroni and cheese that was to die for.  I also ate my first corn dog in years.   The even had turnip greens with fatback.  

My sister came last night with her daughter to see Maggie.  Maggie put on a grand show.  It was the first time my sister had been in my house since dad bought it for me.  My little niece would squeal with glee and Maggie barked exuberantly.

Getting a Christmas tree is on the agenda today.  I can't wait to smell that smell of evergreen in my house.   

Poor Memaw...

My 83 year old grandmother fell and broke her hip tonight.  Surgery is tomorrow at 1:30 PM.  The prospects are grim.  If I am not posting for a few days then you know I am dealing with issues surrounding my grandmother. 

Thanks Mom. You're a Sweetheart...

I just wanted to thank my mom who reads this blog from time to time.  Thank you for the bounty that was grocery shopping day today.  Don't fret if dad gets on to you about what you spent.  It is my money after all.  Thank you for the five dollars today to get a burger and fries.  They were delicious.  Thank you most of all for being you.  I love you and you enhance my life ten-fold. 

Bad Omen...

This morning started with my 5 AM Fat Albert's cup of .99 cent coffee. 

"Where's George?" I asked the other George working there.

"He called in sick," the other George said looking surly.

I know this George's daughter.  Her name is Heidi and she works for Disney.  We went to high school together and she worked for my father for years. 

The rumor is that this George is crazy.  Always bouncing from one job to another.  Kinda like me.  I noticed today he was still wearing his wedding band and he has been divorced for dozens of years. 

"Your John's son," The other George then said getting a clue. "I thought you looked familiar."

"Yeah," I said. "John is my pop."

I drank my cup of strong coffee standing in the overly warm convenience store.  My George usually gives me free refills, but I was required to pay .25 cents today.  That was too rich for my blood so I left. 

Sleeping Cherub...

I've had a tough day and Maggie always helps me put things into perspective.  She seems to be telling me in this photo to slow down, get some rest, and go to sleep.  Tomorrow will be a brighter day.  The light of a warm lamp can chase away the blues.  And the 3 Tenors on PBS are okay and cool if the volume is low.  Good night sweetheart.  Your daddy loves you.  Enjoy the 3 tenors and come to bed soon.

Come In and Turn up the TV, LOUD!

I had one of those shaky days today.  I was about beside myself when dad arrived tonight with my medications.  I wanted to take my Klonopin and go to bed.   Dad then proceeded to turn on the TV to PBS.  The "3 Tenors" were on singing Christmas tunes and dad cranked up the volume LOUD.  I thought my head would explode. "Oh dear God help me," I muttered under my breath.

"I am driving you crazy, aren't I?" dad said, getting a clue.

"Just a tad," I said at my best effort in understatement as I shook my head meaning yes.

I think dad left with his feelings hurt.  I feel like a schmuck now.  I am going to bed and pray for a better tomorrow.  I am tired of this anxiety attack shit.  I would sell my soul to an astute doctor who would try to alleviate what is wrong instead of medicating the problem like they all do.    

Hey Ed. Bye Ed...

I keep telling myself that I am going to start walking or riding my bike every day.  I get to the end of my street and turn around to come back.  My elderly neighbor, Ed, was standing out in his yard today looking nosey. 

"Going for a walk?" he asked.

"To the end of the street and back," I replied.

He looked confused and I couldn't help but laugh inwardly at the world's shortest jaunt.  I just feel entirely too lazy to walk or do any amount of exercise. 

I awoke this morning feeling shaky like my anxiety attacks were going to plague me today.  What did I do?  I drove over to my parent's house to get four caffeine loaded drinks.

"Isn't that caffeine going to make your attacks worse?" Mrs. Obvious, mom, asked me.

"I will only drink two an hour," I told her.

That is two people I have exasperated today.  Mom was standing in her pajamas at the back door looking confused as I left.  

Rosa? Where Art Thou?

I was down at Fat Albert's this morning as soon as they opened at 5 AM.  George was standing behind the counter looking asleep.

"What'cha need?" he asked me with that sly grin of his.

"Oh, just a cup of coffee," I replied.

A cup of coffee was all I could afford. 

We spent the next hour talking about Rosa.  Where she is and how she is doing.  She still does occasionally call me.

"She still have her Toyota?" George then asked me.

"Yeap," I replied. "Despite pawning the title twice."

George chuckled. 

It was freezing cold this morning as I left Fat's to drive home.  Maggie greeted me in her usual exuberant way.  I miss Rosa sometimes, but I don't miss the emotional games she would play.