Contented Pup...

I like how Maggie sticks her legs out back when she is content like this.  Comfort!

H-I-L-A-R-I-O-U-S...

George came back by to get his whiskey.

"I poured it out!" I told him.

He wasn't pissed, but he was perturbed.

"Why are you dressed like that?" I asked of George's khaki pants and Polo shirt.

"I'm dressed as a white guy for Halloween," he said with a big toothy grin.

I burst out laughing. It was the funniest thing I had ever seen.  George relished the attention.

"Momma said I should dress this way more often," George replied.

Damn That George...

George was sipping from a flask of Southern Comfort this morning.   Southern Comfort was about the only hard liquor I drank during my drinking career and I have a weakness for it.  I wasn't feeling well this morning when George left the house and also left that flask of Southern Comfort sitting on my piano.   George is going to be pissed as I went directly and poured that expensive liquor out.  I just didn't want to deal with the temptation today. 

I awoke with an abscessed tooth.  Nothing a regimen of antibiotics won't cure.  Dad is bringing some after lunch.  My gum is swollen twice it's size. 

Mrs. Florene also called me this morning.  She wanted to know if I was participating in Halloween candy giving.  I told her I had a big bowl of Reese's peanut butter cups to hand out.  I carved my pumpkin yesterday just a little late.  I will light the candle inside when it gets about dark.   Looking at my handy work will bring me a lot of satisfaction this afternoon.  I carved the pumpkin into the DeathStar from Star Wars.  I found instructions online.  It looks so cool. 

Yesterday, Helen cooked a huge pan of cornbread.  Much larger than usual.  I had cornbread crumbled into warm milk for breakfast.   I do love that meal.  I bet it sounds odd.  

Horrific Halloween Costume...

Hee Hee...

Helen's Supper...

Tonight, Helen cooked fried pork cutlets, butter beans, baked sweet potato, english peas, green salad, and cornbread.  It was green vegetable night, tonight!

The View From My Front Stoop Today...

There is a Time for Rest...

Camouflage...

George wanted me to ride with him to get gas tonight. I wanted a "leaded" Coca-Cola so I tagged along. We were passing the elementary school just down the road from my house when a bunch of kids in dark hoodies walked across the road in front of us. George slammed on the brakes and said, "Damn! Those little niggas be camouflaged!"

I died laughing. I thought it was the funniest thing I had heard in weeks.

"If dey don't watch out, dey gonna be little grease stains on the highway," George furthered.

I was rolling in the floor. George never fails to make me laugh. I've missed him and was glad to find him no worse for wear tonight.

A Rose By Any Other Name...

My Favorite Fall Photo...

Ran across this fall photo while browsing online.  I just fell in awe of it.  It is so beautiful. 

The Old Soul...

Don't ask me why I am up at five.  I've been up since four.  I went to bed at eight, though.

Last night, mom came over and helped me make a homemade chicken pot pie.  It was okay, but I wanted more dumplings in the pie.  I will have to work on perfecting mom's old recipe.  A tradition with pot pies growing up was that Rene, our cook and maid, would add whole hard boiled eggs to it.  I think this is so delicious and I did the same last night.

Well, my old soul, Maggie, is laying at my feet this morning.  I've been calling her "The Old Soul" for days now.  There seems to be so much wisdom and kindness in those brown eyes.  I sometimes think I have someone like Ben Franklin reincarnated in my dog.  And I take cues from Maggie about how to live life.  Naps.  Good food. Chasing Pussy. Maggie seems to have all the "food groups" covered.  

This morning is my injection for my mental illness.  It couldn't come sooner as I've been struggling these past two days.  I keep having this sensation that I can't walk - my legs feel wobbly and pulsating.  Dad is always kind on shot day and gives me two extra Klonopin to take.  I look forward to taking my medications and truly relaxing for a few hours.  It can be intoxicating. 

Well, let me get a good breakfast started, feed Maggie, and take a bath.  I've still got quite a few hours until time to head to the doctor's office. 

The Last of the Summer Wine...

This shot was hard.  The wind was blowing and I finally got the bright idea to hold the stem of the flowers with my fingers.  It is still kind of blurry.  I tried to fix it in photoshop, but didn't do a good job. 

The Pseudo Drunken Phone Conversationist...

My speech has been slurred for the past four days because of something going on with my medications.  It was alarming at first, but I just resigned myself that it's just the myriad of side effects my medications impart.  Well, it has made it impossible to talk on the phone and the phone rang dozens of times yesterday.

"Mr. Delaney?" a voice would say.

"You have a wrong number," I would reply drunkenly.

The phone would ring again a few minutes later.

"Mr. Delaney?" Another voice would ask.

Sigh. Apparently some Delaney character was giving out my unlisted number as his.  It almost got comical towards the end of the day.

On top of all this, I had mom calling constantly.  I made the mistake of telling her I was almost out of gasoline in my Honda.  Well, this drove my secretary crazy. 

"I called your father and he is going to fill up your car," mom said at one point.

I know dad just loved me yesterday getting mom all riled up about my gas situation.

"Be careful what you tell your mother," he told me exasperated last night.

I couldn't help but smile.  My mother can be such a driven and impatient creature.

Pushing Maggie's Buttons...

Now, if you want to really rile Maggie up, play a video of cats fighting on your computer!  She just went absolutely ape shiat bananas. 

"Where's the kitty?" I asked loudly over the video to incite her further.

She finally went tearing outside barking ferociously as no cat could ever invade our humble abode.  The fighting cats could only be outside.

I'm not mean, but it is going to be awfully hard not to play this video tomorrow to incite her further.  Nothing gets her more riled up than a cat.  I know all my cat loving readers just find me so appealing and adorable right now.   My dog: The Pussy Police!

It's Raining...It's Pouring...

It's really been raining here this morning.  I love it! Maggie's in the bed.  I am sitting mostly in my LazyBoy.  We are having a quiet day just to ourselves. 

Mom called me and told me she is going to get my groceries tomorrow instead of Thursday.  We go through the same routine every time with me or her having to name each individual grocery out.  I get the same things every time. 

"You need eggs and butter?" she asked.

"Of course," I replied.

"Bacon?"

"Yes."

"Now I can only get you 8 cans of Chef-Boy-R-Dee instead of 10," she told me.

They are only .99 cents a can so I couldn't understand how two dollars is going to make much difference in my grocery bill.   Only in the mind of my mother.  Another one of those peculiarities I have to put up with to get my groceries home delivered. 

The big changes this week were that I didn't want cheddar, raisin bran, bologna, or grits.  

Rain on the Horizon...

Today was another stir crazy day.  I sat. Sat. Sat. Uncrossed my legs. Crossed them. Uncrossed them.  Swung them wildly about in a moment of restless leg syndrome.  It wasn't bad.  Just uncomfortable.

Today was a big Maggie day, though.  I had five bucks and went and spent it on my dog.  I bought her some rawhide and she chewed and chewed and chewed.  She had the best time of her life and I said was going to have to treat her more often.  I want to get her beef jerky, but the price is prohibitive.   I bet she would absolutely love it.

I was also thinking about George and Pookie off and on.  George was such a staple in my life and abandoned me temporarily for that woman.  I realized today that her first parole officer meeting will be soon.  They will drug test her.  She will fail and land back in jail.  There is a silver lining to that cloud for sure.  Aren't I dastardly and conniving?

Dad was really hard on me yesterday before I went with Mrs. Florene.  He said I had been doing badly since August.  I was shocked.  I thought I've been doing better in the past two years than I have my whole life.  It really knocked me down a few notches.  I realized I have got to quit trying to live up to his standards.   Me and mom have a tough row to hoe as they say.   

Through the Dog Door...

She's a Lady...

Last night Mrs. Florene called me.  Mainly about George, but then she asked me if I would take her to the grocery store, she would cook me a good supper.  I called dad and asked when he was bringing my medications and he said he was on the way.  Good. 

We went to the Piggly Wiggly and I followed Mrs. Jones around as she shopped.

"We're gonna have some cubed steak, rice and gravy, steamed broccoli, and biscuits," she told me. 

"Let's cook some Brussels' sprouts, too!" I told her.

She said she had cooked them only once in her life.

"I remember cooking them with butter and lemon," she said.

So that's what we did.  I also learned how to make true Southern sticky rice.  It was delicious with a heaping helping of steak gravy. 

Amazingly, the conversation didn't keep gravitating towards George.  We talked mainly about cooking and mine and her's favorite foods.   I told her I loved a ribeye, baked potato, and salad. 

"Too tough to chew for my dentures," she replied.

I smiled.  I bet it would be.  I left, drove home, and Maggie snuggled up on the couch with me which was odd for her.   She kept wanting me to scratch her back and her persistence was heart warming.  So, we spent a quiet evening watching TV and giving one way back scratches.  It was a good evening and I needed it. 

A Laid Back Sunday (no worries)...

I Need More Compassion...

I feel much better this morning.   I noticed today that I am able to daydream again.  I can't do this when I am feeling mentally unwell.   Dad was kind of grilling me yesterday about my appearances, though. 

"You're hair is sticking up and looks wild.  You need to shave.  You just look disheveled," he told me.  "You can usually pull yourself together."

That's just it! I can't!  I can't pull myself together when my mental illness grabs hold of me.  I tried to tell dad that's like telling a cancer patient to suck it up and feel normal.  He still doesn't get it though.   I've learned my mental illness works in cycles just like mom's.  I have to weather the stormy periods and relish the good.   

It certainly is nice to feel better this morning.  I feel content and that is something worth a million dollars to me.   Just to be able to sit and watch TV without feeling like I am going to jump out of my skin is a wonderful thing.   To be able to use the computer and actually concentrate on what I am doing is worth a thousand words - more than I could ever write in a blog post.    

A Train of a Morning...

I drove into West Point this morning hoping to see Big S.  I hadn't seen him in months and George had said he was hanging out at the shopping center across the river.   No Big S.  It was just too cold at 52 degrees.  I did notice the train signal had just turned yellow meaning a train was on the way.   I turned around, parked at the bank, and sat on the very same bench where Ferret used to sleep when he was homeless.  How he could get any sleep on that cold concrete I will never know, but he did.  

Soon, a train came roaring through downtown.  This always perks me up and I get excited.  The train must have been a 100 cars long as it took forever to pass.  I always like the myriad of graffiti on the cars as they roll by.  I always wonder what bored kids were in a train yard with cans of spray paint to do this.   I imagine gangs of Latinos marking their territory with gang signs - letting the world know that this is their space.  "This hopper car is now property of the little muchachos of East Miami."

The phone was ringing when I arrived home shortly.  It was mom.

"Come get your Diet Cokes and cigarettes," she said. "They are on the back porch."

Yee-Haw!!!!

"What are you doing up so early?" I asked, amused.

"Seeing about you, silly!" she said, matter-of-factly.

I got a good laugh out of that.

Well, I am now enjoying my Cokes as I  browse the World Wide Web and write.   I also took two Klonopin and they will affect me in about an hour.   I shouldn't take them so frivolously, but I needed some extra comfort and oomph this morning.   I still feel a little stir crazy.     

Helen's Supper...

Helen cooked my favorite meal of her's tonight.  Meat loaf, peas and carrots, macaroni and cheese, and biscuits.  I haven't eaten so much in a very long time.  It is going to be an uncomfortable evening as I digest this massive plate of food.  

The Truth About AA...

George Has Left the Building...

George just disappeared.  It has been three mornings since I've seen him.   Pookie got out of  jail and George went gallivanting through the underlife of our town.  I know exactly what happened.  George took Pookie to the crack house while he drank and she smoked up.   All on George's money.   She will no doubt steal his money again via his wallet after an amorous, but dangerous encounter de lah tey.   I am sure Mrs. Jones is worried as am I.  I hope he's going to work.  It would be a disaster for him to lose that good paying job with Wal-Mart.

I am no stranger to such things.   When I was married, I would get up some beer money and gather all my camping gear.   I would head to our woods in God's country and go on a three or four day bender at my favorite spot in the piney woods of Alabama.   I would just sit for days drinking copious amounts of beer and listening to talk radio.   Rachel would somehow always find me and bring me home.   So I understand George's thinking process right now.  

We had a much ballyhooed cold front move through this morning with a whimper.  I was getting my six Diet Cokes off of mom and dad's porch as it started to spit rain.  The rain increased as I drove home and just quit.   I looked at the radar online and the rain coverage looked kind of puny and pitiful.  I was disappointed and wanted some more gully washers. 

I stepped on the scales this morning and weighed 168 pounds.  That the least I have weighed in decades.   I am not intending to lose weight.   I think it is my medications.  I don't have much of an appetite and have to remind myself to eat.  Dad said yesterday, "You're looking kind of skinny these days."  They worry I am dabbling in my old nemesis eating disorders again. 

Man Down...

I don't know what I did to suffer so much in this life.  Today was almost unbearable.  My heart was pounding in my chest.   I had the stir crazies.   I couldn't sit still.  Something in the corner of my crazy mind told me to take a 3mg Risperdal.  I did, and I felt 100 percent better within the hour.  It seems my injection is running out a week early.  This is my main anti-psychotic.  The one thing that keeps me tethered to sanity.   I am just glad I finally figured out what was wrong.   I'm calling Dad to tell him and to see if he will bring me more Risperdal (fingers crossed).

Knocking the Wind Out of my Sails...

Monday evening I suffered one of my worse anxiety/panic attacks yet.  Mom stayed two hours holding my hand.  I couldn't get my breath and felt like I couldn't breath.  It was terribly scary.   Well, this knocked the wind out of my sails as far as any feel better plans were concerned.   I stayed in the bed all day yesterday.   Today, I had four Klonopin and have taken them feeling much better and calmer.   I've still spent a lot of time in the bed today.   It seems I take one step forward and two steps back every so often.   Sorry for the lack of updates.  I just haven't felt like using the computer. 

Was it an Omen? Or a Sign?

I was dressed in my favorite shirt and jeans this morning.  I had just had a shower and was rearing to go.  I was on my way to get my six Diet Cokes for the day, and then to hit all the fast food restaurants for applications.   You can apply online now days, but I wanted the managers to see me first.   Well, I got out to my car and turned the key.  Nothing.  My battery was dead.   Was it an omen or sign I shouldn't be doing this?

I called mom and asked her to bring me my cokes when she went to get her hair poofed up at lunch.  Well, if you want anything done and to get it done quickly, you tell my mother.  She's my and dad's secretary.   She called dad and within thirty minutes, there was a mechanic in the engine bay of my car getting the battery out.

"I'll be back with a new battery in thirty minutes," he told me and left.

Should I continue as planned, or should I talk to my father first?  I feel dirty for doing this behind his back.  I already know what he will say.

"You can't afford to lose Medicare Part D,"  he will say. "Your medications cost $2000 dollars a month."

That's How We Roll...

I got the house cleaning bug bite yesterday bad!  I cleaned and cleaned until I could look in each room and feel satisfied.  I'm not very domesticated so this was a major feat of mine.  When I get in that mood, I just have to roll with it. 

Every time I get to feeling better,  I want to go out and get a job.  Any job.  I just want a paycheck. So I've been plotting all day various avenues that would lead me to employment.  If dad knew, he would go crazy!!!  I want something repetitious and easy.  Mind numbingly boring. 

Helen's Supper...

Helen cooked fried center cut pork chops,  sweet potato patties, yellow squash, steamed cabbage, and corn bread.  I am so full I feel like I'm about to pop!  Not pictured is a bowl of cole slaw and some fruit salad. 

Zombieland...

Yesterday was my injection.  Well, it made me so sleepy and drowsy that I slept for almost 24 hours straight.  I woke up feeling like I had a hangover I slept so hard.   One nice thing about my injection is that an hour afterwards I get this sensation of euphoria.   It is like a two hour orgasm.   It is one of the most pleasurable things I experience these days.  The alcoholic in me loves to feel extra-ordinary. 

Maggie got into something dead last night and stunk to high heaven.  Well, she sleeps with me, and I certainly didn't want a dog that smelled like decomposing flesh to get in the bed.   It took me giving her two baths in all to get the stench out of her hair.  What is it about dogs and stinky stuff?

The Truth is More Preposterous than Fiction...

I was sitting here at my computer a moment ago when I see this guy in a wheel chair missing both his legs come rolling down the street. It was drizzling and he looked miserable. Well? He wheeled through my front yard and knocked on my door. How he got up the steps, I will never know. Maggie went ape-shit bananas - barking like I rarely ever hear her bark. She's a good judge of character so I didn't answer the door. It was like something out of the twilight zone.   I didn't want to be the victim in the case of the legless killer. 

Year of thine sobriety day 701...

George came and drank his beers this morning after the nightshift. 

"I was about to pour them out!" I told him tersely.  "They were driving me crazy."

"Do you think you will ever be able to drink a beer again?" George then asked. "I miss you having a beer with me."

My only reply was that I am an all or nothing fellow.  I will drink zero or I will drink twenty.  My world has always been black or white.  

Even Tylenol is rationed in my corner of the woods.  I had a slight headache this morning.   I had to call mom to put two Tylenol in a ziplock bag and to leave them on the back porch so she could go back to sleep.   Dad's in Atlanta today and I was tempted to drive down to his pharmacy and just get a bottle.  Caleb, his fill-in pharmacist, wouldn't mind, but it would never fly in dad's world.   He's afraid I will take too many of them and ruin my liver.  

Rainy Day Comfort...

She's queen of all she purveys...

The Last Temptation of Andrew...

George left a six pack of beer in my fridge this morning.  I kept expecting him to come back and get it, and it was of my highest hopes he would.  Well, those damned beers are just about to drive me crazy!  And this is my 700th day of sobriety.  Wouldn't that be just my luck?  Dad aptly said yesterday that if there was a small pile of dogshit in a huge coliseum, I'd find some way to step in it! 

What's in a Name?

I asked George this morning why his mother didn't name him a more traditional African American name. 

"Why didn't she name you something like Cornelius or Orenthal?" I asked laughing.  "You're named after a country music singer for Christ's sake!"

George burst out laughing in between sips of beer.

"You just don't know how much hell I catch from other brothas about being named George Jones!" he replied chuckling.

We both laughed and laughed.  At least, George has a sense of humor about it all!  I love that dear man. 

A Rare Smile Outta Me...

Grits That Rivaled My Father's...

I managed to eat breakfast with Mrs. Florene and George before the rain started.  Mrs. Florene was cooking,  George was watching the morning news in the den,  and I was sitting at the kitchen table.

"He didn't come home at all last night," Mrs. Jones said of George as she fried some bacon.

"He was at the shot house playing poker," I replied.

Mrs. Jones grumbled and mumbled something under her breath that I couldn't hear.

Soon, we sat down for breakfast.  My favorite thing was the grits.  They were so buttery and creamy.   It takes a real knack for Southern food to cook good grits.  Most people's grits are runny and watery.  Like what you would get at the Waffle House. 

Mrs. Jones fixed an extra paper plate of food for Maggie which I appreciated and which Maggie devoured when I got home.  I've given up on just feeding her Purina One.  She won't eat it and will just starve.  She is so stubborn.

Helen came by the house before work.  She was running extra late and was in a hurry.

"Your daddy's gonna jump all over me when your mother tells him what time I got there today," she told me.    "Here's some fresh Tuna fish salad.  My husband won't eat it."

What a nice thing!  I love tuna fish sandwiches and Helen makes the best Tuna salad.  My day was set with lots of good food, good drinks, ample cigarettes, and a torrential rain falling out my windows.   It is going to be a good day.  I can just feel it.  

Rainy Day Monday!

Maggie's Got the Rainy Day Blues...

Fall Color and Spring?

The dogwoods are always the first to show color in the South.

The dwarf Japanese maple in Joyce's yard.   I miss Joyce. 

Imperfect, but beautiful.  Like a lot of women I know.  This is a camellia by Joyce's side yard.

The Holocaust Proposition...

Lately, I think of the Jews and what they went through during the holocaust when I get down on myself about my current predicament.  It works really well as a way to brighten up my moods and my attitude.  I have so many things to be thankful for and most of these are directly due to my father.  I have all the food I could care to eat.  I get to smoke one cigarette every 30 minutes which would be the utmost in luxury among men in the concentration camps.   I have Maggie and she so brightens my world.   I have a warm, extremely comfortable bed to sleep in every night.   I have a wonderful Honda which will serve me trustfully for years.  My house is paid for.   I have an extremely nice computer and the fastest Internet connection offered in my area.   My only bills are my cost of living expenses such as utilities and groceries.  My mental illness is under the most control it has been in my whole life.   I no longer spend days drunken and slovenly.   It is certainly a glass half full/half empty phenomenon.   I just have to remind myself how lucky I truly am.   I think of the holocaust and what those people went through and it can really put things into perspective. 

Moody's Got the Blues...

Yesterday I was sitting in dad's den as he watched the Bama game. 

"Why are you so quiet?" he asked as I sat with my head hung low. "You're on one of your mental illness cycles."

"Can't I just feel emotion without it being a symptom of my mental illness?" I asked sincerely.

It offended him.  

I had asked for six more Diet Cokes and dad firmly and almost vehemently said no.  I didn't want to use my cherished $20 dollars from Mrs. Florene when mom had 20 cases of cokes in the basement.  My parent's control of me seems to be tightening over time and not lessening.  Dad says I get "high" off the caffeine in the drinks.  He only sees me fifteen minutes a day so how would he know?  We've had several uneventful years as far as I am concerned, the drinking, and my "episodes," and I would think things would be improving as far as my autonomy is concerned.  It has not.

Dad gave me my medications.  I took them and sat quietly.  He was quiet as well.  My fifteen minutes was up and dad said I could go.  Dad locked the door as I left.

The first thing I did when I got home was get on the computer.  I emailed a trusted friend about this and it made me feel better.  "It is hard to believe I am 37 years old!" I wrote my trusted friend.   She wrote me back within minutes and said, "Leave!  Sell all your shit and get out of there! You don't have to live that way!"  It was rash, but I entertained the thought.  I've often thought of putting a sign in my front yard saying, "Everything in the house is for sale!  Name your price!"  I would get enough money to leave town, m0ve to Nashville, and sleep and live in the Rescue Mission.  Sometimes, it seems my freedom is so wanted and so coveted that I want to go to almost any length to re-attain it.  Even homelessness seems a better alternative. 

Later in the day, my father pulled up in front of my house.  I opened the door which is our custom so Maggie can see him, and he was smiling as he walked through my yard. 

"Here's you some cokes, a carton of cigarettes, and some supper. I cooked just for you," he told me as I stood at the door.  "I love you, son.  I hope this makes you feel better."

I was shocked.  My father is not prone to do such things for me.  I am rarely thought of by him unless it is time to take my medications which is a way he uses to modify my behavior.  Well, it made the evening much better.  It was a reprieve in the storm.   I could then drink my cokes as I smoked cigarette after cigarette due to this windfall.  I usually have to ration them they've gotten so expensive.   There is good in my father, but he can be a hard man.  Especially when it concerns me.  He's given me so much over the years, yet he has taken so much away.  I am conflicted by it all and his show of concern yesterday evening. 

In the Glow of my Night Light...

Maggie was looking at me like, "Why are you up at this ungodly hour? Dogs sleep until lunch!" Since according to Maggie, I am a dog as well. I am part of her pack along with George, Charlie, mom, and dad.

Technology Makes Me Happy...

I am pleased as punch to have this contraption.  I just love gadgets and technology.  And now I don't have to constantly scramble for batteries for my camera.  I am terrible about leaving it on and depleting the batteries. 

The Journey into the Abyss...

George was working overtime this morning.  Mrs. Jones called me and asked me to take her to Wal-Mart so she could get a few things.   I was over at their house in 20 minutes ready to go.

Well, walking into Wal-Mart for me is like stepping into over-stimulation land.  The dizzying array of products.  The bustling people shopping.  The glaring monitors displaying Wal-Mart commercials.  The elderly greeter that says hello as you walk in.  My addled mind was spinning.

I followed Mrs. Jones as she toodled around with her shopping cart.  Our first stop was to get George some underwear and socks.  I smiled inwardly at this until I remembered mom recently bought me underwear and socks at Wal-Mart as well.  George and I are in the same boat it seems.  

Mrs. Jones was also on a quest for Bavarian style full fat buttermilk.  "You can only find it at Wal-Mart," she told me. "It makes the very best biscuits and cornbread."  Luckily, they had some and I bought a carton as well - eager to try it in my breakfast biscuits and cornbread next week.

Driving home Mrs. Jones handed me a twenty dollar bill.  "Thank you!" she said.  I unabashedly took it and put it in my shirt pocket.  Normally, I would refuse, but I needed the money and it made Mrs. Jones feel good to pay me.    

From Her Favorite Perch...

The Heavens Shine Forth Upon George...

This morning I was outside trimming my shrubbery in the front of the house.   It is a task I loath, but it needed doing.  George came pulling up just as I was carrying a bunch debris out to the road.  He had the biggest smile upon his face.

"I won a thousand dollars on a scratch off ticket!"  George exclaimed as he climbed out of his car. 

"No shit?" I asked.

"No shit," George said. 

Me and him both were grinning vigorously.  George grew up in the school of hard knocks and it was nice to have something so fortuitous to happen.

"What are you going to buy?" I asked.

"I'm gonna spend it on my car," George replied.  "I want an alarm and a new stereo."

"You should give it to your mother,"  I said, playing the better angel of George's nature.

George just shrugged it off and went on and on about the windfall he had received.  I've always thought the lottery was a fool's errand, but have to admit I wanted to go and buy me a few tickets as well.   Dad plays religiously on the Big Game.  

"Don't drink it all up," I told George as he was leaving.

George got another big grin on his face and said, "There is gonna be a party tonight!"

Something's never change.

She's a Pretty Girl...

Shiny Things are Good Things...

"Look at it!" George said proudly as I stood at my front door this morning.

We both walked out to look at George's Buick.

"I even detailed the engine," he said opening the hood.

"It looks like a new car!" I replied. 

"Momma said I should keep it that way since she bought it."

I chuckled.  It did look brand new.

"I spent hours of sweat and toil on that thing yesterday afternoon," George said.

George got in his car and drove off with a proud grin on his face. 

*****

Just a 12-pack.  Not a king's ransom...

"Mom?" I asked on the phone this morning. "Will you get me a 12-pack of regular coke?"

"I don't know," mom said with a somber tone. "Your daddy says I need to keep your grocery costs down.  I've been spending too much money. I will think about it."

She's gonna die when she sees how much a battery charger and batteries are going to cost. 

Well, this pissed me off so badly.  A 12-pack of cokes is only $3.99 at Kroger.  It is not as if I was breaking the bank.   I hung up the phone and felt terrible.  I really need to get a job.  Stuff like this gets old.   My life seems to be a series of obstacles to overcome as far as my parents, medications, and my disability is concerned.

Well, I called mom back.

"Don't buy me any groceries," I said madly after she answered.

"You've got to eat!" she exclaimed.

"I'd rather starve than have to put up with this kind of bullshit any longer," I said and I hung up.  

Trying to get Rechargeable...

Mom called tonight asking what I wanted grocery wise. 

"Same as last week," I said not feeling adventurous as far as food is concerned. 

"Oh, mom!" I interrupted. "Get me a charger and some rechargeable batteries for my camera."

Well, this threw mom into a tizzy.

"What size?" she asked calling back.

"AA," I replied.

There were six more calls before mom was finally content she had all the information to make me an informed purchase.   She would die if I called her six times in a row.  I would get her characteristic blowing sigh.  

Comfort comes in small measures...

Helen opened the door this morning after I knocked.

"Come on in, baby!"  she said. "What's wrong?"

"I'm stir crazy and lonely," I told her.  "I thought I would speak to mom awhile."

Mom was in the bed and sleeping.  I kissed her on cheek and her eyes fluttered open.

"What are you doing?" she asked sleepily.

"I just needed your company," I replied.

I sat down with my dad's cat Macy.  She was curled up on a towel in the chair.   I began talking to mom after my fears, wants, and desires until I realized she had fallen asleep again.  I smiled.

"Love you," I told her as I kissed her again, but she didn't hear it.

I drove home and and am now talking to Maggie.  Maggie is like the best therapist.  She never disagrees, or gives advise.   She's always a comfort.   I took my two Klonopin from last night and settled into the couch for a long morning of watching TV.   At least, I have the comfort of the very same hosts at ShopNBC that are all on everyday.  I have come to look at them as friends. 

*Cue Gilligan's Island Theme Music* A Three Hour Tour...

Mrs. Florene called me early this morning.   I was just putting the finishing touches on a bowl of crunchy raisin bran. 

"Do you have anything planned for today?" she asked me.

"I rarely do," I replied.

"Let's go to Clarke Brother's Meats and do some shopping for breakfast," she told me.

I licked my lips in anticipation of Clarke Brother's breakfast sausage.   Clarke Brother's is one of the few true butchers left in the area.  They grow their own animals.  Meats are prepared when purchased to order.  And I have this terrible weakness for their sausage in casing.  

Mrs. Jones brought an incredible amount of meat to adorn her freezer at home.  I was surprised as she is so frugal.   Personally, I bought two pounds of homemade rind on hoop cheddar.  I also bought two very expensive and beautifully marbled USDA prime ribeyes along with my sausage.  

Clark Brother's is a long drive to another county in Roanoke,  Alabama.  I was running low on gas when we returned back to the Valley.   Mrs. Florene thanked me and filled up my car.   I was so appreciative.  We spend the long drive mostly talking about George and the sudden upswing in his moods and lack of drinking. 

"Don't give up him yet," I told Mrs. Jones. "He's a diamond in the rough."

Mrs. Florene so enjoyed me saying that as I took her home.  

"You have a way with words," she told me as were pulling into the driveway.  

The Wonder of a Small Child...

The was from Jill's blog.  She adopted a baby from Korea a few years ago and, boy, has she grown.  I love the message this photo portrayed.  The wonder of a child. 

Momma's Baby's Got the Vapors...

Dad made an emergency trip to Birmingham yesterday afternoon after work.  It was a whirlwind trip and it worried me.   Mom tagged along and I know she will be just wasted today.  My sister's baby is sick.  It is a two and half hour drive.  

Well, when I called, Dad said the baby was much better - doing fine.  He just wanted an excuse to see his grand kids and I don't blame him.   I would, too.   I couldn't help but be jealous, though.   He lives five minutes from me and only stops by to bring me my morning medications.   I shouldn't sully this blog post with all that paranoid personal family crap though.

I feel iffy today (took my Lithium last yesterday on a whim).  Kinda on the borderline of panic or fine.  I couldn't go to Mrs. Jones' for breakfast.   It is a strange territory to be in.  I said loudly a moment ago to myself, "If  I am going to have an attack, let's just go ahead and get it over with!"  Maggie looked up at me like I was crazy as she lay at my feet.  "Yes! I am!" I told her of my craziness and she smartly moved into the den where it was much safer.  

Birds Gotta Fly. Fish Gotta Swim...

George stopped by this morning looking defeated.  He didn't want to go home with his mother doting over him.  He just wanted to crash in front of a TV and drink beer.  I can't even imagine drinking beer so early in the day now.   I used to would wake up in the middle of the night and quickly drink three beers so I could go back to sleep -  my hands would have the shakes so badly.

"I went by Papa John's pizza," George told me.  "They want to check my driving record and my license is revoked.  I so had my heart set on delivering pizza."

They are building a new Kia automobile plant in town.  The production starts soon.  I suggested to George that he try and apply.  He is an incredible mechanic after all those years he kept his Dodge Diplomat plodding along.   He drove that car for almost 25 years. 

I got online and, Lord be, found where to apply at a farmed out hiring agency.  I printed out the information and handed it to George.

"Do you think I have a chance?" George asked.

"It wouldn't hurt to try and it would double your income," I replied.

George quickly finished his beer, jumped up, and headed out the door.  He was excited again.   We are all excited about the new Kia plant.  It is adding 5000 new jobs to our local economy.  And at a time it is needed most when West Point Stevens left town while taking thousands of jobs and moved it's operations overseas.

For all you cat lovers out there...

The Entrepreneur...

In a few weeks, my father's pharmacy will celebrate 30 years in serving the Valley.  Dad was telling me tonight that he couldn't believe he's been in business for so long and survived with entities like Wal-Mart and CVS getting an ever growing share of the market.   He is taking all his employees and pharmacists out to eat at a posh restaurant in Atlanta to celebrate.

"It's going to be nice," he told me. "You can come.  You're still an employee.  You're just on sabbatical."

We both laughed at the sabbatical part.

I looked over and mom was licking her lips in anticipation.

"Look," I said to dad.

"Your mother loves to eat out," dad replied.  

Mom smiled and went and got her a Little Debbie Swiss roll to eat.  Dad rolled his eyes.  He is worried about the amount of weight she has gained lately.   Her medications for her mental illnesses are renowned for causing extreme weight gain and diabetes.  

Dad has recently hired another pharmacist and this halves the amount of time he has to work.   Many afternoons he is home in his pajamas reading a book or cooking a favorite dessert from his mother's recipes.  It's nice.  Very nice.  And I am so deeply proud of my father and what he's been able to accomplish with his life.   

Itchy and Scratchy...

Maggie has gotten into something in the backyard this morning.  She has scratched continuously since she came in.  She gets the funniest look on her face as she furiously digs at her cooties.  Her tongue sticks out.  Her eyes close.  And she is prone to falling over in bliss when she hits an especially scratchy spot.  I picked her up and put her in my lap to give a thorough flea check.  No fleas were found.  It must be chiggers.   And now my legs are itching something terrible as well.  What ever Maggie has is contagious and catching.

*****

T-minus Ten Days to Disaster...

I found out this morning that George's longtime crackhead girlfriend gets out of jail in ten days.  Just ten more days of  "normal" George and I worry all hell will break loose.  This bodes very badly for George.  All he can think of is s-e-x.   He's like me and hasn't had any in months.   The way he will describe what fun he is going have is lewd and lascivious so I wont offend you by repeating it.  

I sure hope there's pimento cheese in Heaven...

George came by with a food care package from his mother this afternoon.  In a plastic sack were all the things needed to make tomato and pimento cheese sandwiches.   I couldn't wait to eat and fixed a pimento cheese sandwich while George drank a beer.

"What is the secret to your mother's pimento cheese?" I asked George as I greedily consumed a sandwich.

"She puts a tablespoon of  Worcestershire sauce in it," George replied. "It's good isn't it?"

George told me he his looking for a 2nd job to make some extra money to buy a Honda Accord. 

"Deliver papers," I suggested.  "You can sleep in the morning and deliver in the afternoons."

"I was actually thinking about delivering pizza," George replied. "I heard the tips were good."

Either suggestion was a good one.  Mrs. Jones and I have both noticed an marked change in George.  He's drinking less.  He doesn't miss work.  The days of him being too drunk to stop by seemed to have passed.  I wish the best for my friend and hope he continues down this path.

The Third Shift has Clocked Out...