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Yeah, Well Sunday April 27, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Rambles.
11 comments
First of all, *grin* let me state clearly so there aren’t any more worried readers out there:  I had a tubal ligation right after La was born, and the chances of my getting pregnant again are slim and none.  I’m sure now I’ll hear stories of women who did get preggers after a TL, and all I can say to that is, "Yeah, well…".

Laura has abandoned day care.  She went the first two days and liked it fine.  The next week she started crying when I left her, wanting me to stay.  That’s gut-wrenching.  The week after that she started crying whenever we mentioned going to day care, saying she didn’t want to go, the kids were monsters, she hated naps, she didn’t like it.  I’d have to fight to get her clothes on her in the morning, carry her to the car and into the building and then wrench her off my arm-even after I’d sit with her half an hour assuring her I’d be back to get her in the afternoon.  It felt like it always does when you take the infants in to get their vaccinations:  you know it’s the best thing for them, but holding them down while someone else makes them scream?  Torture.  So by the third week we’d tried everything to get her to accept it, the teachers had done everything…she just wasn’t ready.  I am now back to dealing with her 24/7, the little Klingon.  The worst part is, as determined as she is to have her own way, she knows she’s won a battle here, and has been a demon to deal with since we told her she didn’t have to go back.  Bossy, demanding, more stubborn than usual.  Oh well, yeah well.

We worked out the Emmy/Dad situation like this:  she brought home a new Progress Report with an 80 for her new grade, TWO DAYS after her 75 (because of that 95 she made on the later test) and we talked to her teacher, who said she was a great student and the problem was just one bad test grade.  Mike still didn’t want to let her loose until Monday, I was sticking to the letter of the law and was for letting it go, after all, she’d brought the grade up as required.  I don’t like breaking my word to my kids, even if it means I get screwed over in the meantime.  Finally, I came up with a compromise, because Emmy really was being a major brat about everything and had been all week.  We let her off the grounding for the grade.  However, she then got grounded for not keeping her room straight for 3 days in a row, screaming and shouting at Mike and me, and not bringing home her study guides or books to study for ANY of her tests, ever.  Of course, I’ve revised the "If you come home with anything below a 77…" too.  Emmy says it’s unfair to ground her for other stuff right after taking her off one restriction, and all I could say was…."Yeah, well…TOUGH!"

Of course I’m unsettled about the fibroids.  My mom had a partial hysterectomy because of them at my age, my mom’s mom needed a full hysterectomy at 37 because of them.  I’m unsettled about that, I am tired of surgeries; but I’m concerned about blood tests, mainly.  I’ll feel better once those come back clean.  I wouldn’t have dreamed of worrying about it, but when they decide to screen you for cancer, dang it, you naturally worry about it, don’t you?  Thank goodness the tests are Tuesday and I only have a few days to wait and find out how it’s gonna go.  Mike, knowing nothing about female plumbing had to have it explained to him completely.  I felt outside myself as I told him that it was either fibroids or something else.  If it was just fibroids all was cool.  If it was C then they’d take my bad plumbing out, give me chemo and I’d live or die.  I couldn’t believe how cold I sounded, but at the same time….I’ve always felt I’m living on borrowed time, too.

Ugh, I think I’ve sunk into one of those nasty depression thingies.  I don’t like this attitude, but it is how I feel right now, and if I can’t say it here, what’s the point of my having a ‘here’? 

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Letter to HER Thursday April 24, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Ain't THAT a whoopin'?!.
10 comments
Dear Fertility Goddess,
Hello again, it’s been awhile now, hasn’t it?  Almost five years.  Please let me begin by thanking you for your gift of the six healthy, intelligent, talented beautiful daughters you’ve given me.  I cannot tell you what a blessing they all are in their own special, individual ways.  My life would not be complete without them.  You are a most benificent and giving creature, and I am most blessed.
 
Thank you also for not bestowing your most momentous gifts upon my oldest two daughters yet.  While I realize I was already twice gifted by the time I was Becca’s age, I assure you, my darling daughters and I are most grateful you have decided in your infinite wisdom to wait on showing them you bountiful nature.  Also, may I bow and show all my gratitude for your not visiting upon my teenagers.  Thank you, thank you.  I am well aware how much you love my family, as evidenced by the plentitude of cousins I have on both sides of my family.
 
Now we come to the meat of my reason for this epistle:  I had a visit with my gynecologist today, Fertility Goddess.  I’d been having a few problems and thought I needed a little checking out so I could be told all was well and that I was turning into a hypochondriac.  That isn’t what happened.  Instead, in the middle of the exam, the GYN suddenly told me my uterus felt like it had boulders in it, that I had fibroids and she promptly sent me off for blood tests and signed me up for a pelvic ultrasound and a mammogram.  Luckily, the mammogram is just because I’ve hit the 40’s and that’s when you’re supposed to get your first, but the rest is just frightening!
 
We’ve had a long, fruitful and loving relationship, Fertility Goddess.  I’ve always admired and respected you.  I’d like to keep all the organs that have helped you do your job inside me, in good condition as long as possible.  I hope you want that too.  Please do what you can to help.  Thank you.

Teen Girls+Dads=Hell Wednesday April 23, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Rambles.
5 comments
I am beginning to think I want to move out for the next 5 years; just take La and leave Mike and the girls here to work out their own problems.  I’m tired of refereeing the endless fights, listening to the screeching and the screaming, (I’d add here that the girls are no picnic either, but it’s just not funny anymore, dangit) and watching Mike’s blood pressure rise just through seeing veins pulsate.

This latest round is even somehow my fault.  Emma Jane’s grades are always mid-B’s or borderline C’s.  We try to keep her out of C range because she can do so much more, she just tends to slack off whenever the opportunity arises.  As a freshman now, she’s got to seriously start thinking about what colleges are going to be looking for.
So at the beginning of the school year, we told her anything 77 or below on her Progress Report (mid-terms) or a Report Card and she’d be grounded until she brought up the grade.  All was fine, she tiptoed up to the line a few times but never hit it until yesterday when she brought home a 75 on her Progress Report.  Grounded.

So she throws a fit.  She vows to bring home a better grade the next day and Mike immediately tells her that won’t matter, she can’t magically get ungrounded the next day.  I’m kinda stuck then, because, realistically that’s exactly what we told her we’d do:  unground her when she brought up the grade.  It just never occurred to us she’d be able to do it the next day.  When I mentioned that to him, he went ballistic.  More screaming.

*Sigh*

So I’ve got them both pissed at me, one for being too "mean", one for "always giving in" and I’m questioning my own sanity, such as it is.  I try to always be fair, first.  I don’t think it’s necessarily fair or right that Emily get off grounding in a day…what’s she learned?  How has she gained anything by this 1 day of confinement?  She hasn’t.  Oh yeah, she’s learned she can maneuver the system.  Nice.  But, to "keep them honest" as AC says every few nights, a deal is a deal, and I said bring the grade up and you’re ungrounded.

Damned if the little wench didn’t come home with a test grade, waving it in the air, triumphantly shouting she wasn’t grounded anymore just as I was racing out the door, grabbing Katie on the way to a dentist appointment.  She’d made a 95 from a test on Friday.  Mike was furious, of course.  She was practically dancing with joy, until he started "No, no, hell no-ing" her as I was running from the house to the car.  We could hear them in the street; her wailing shrieks, his low pitched voice telling her to stop shouting at him.

I had a wonderfully restful respite at the dentist office waiting for Katie to get her teeth cleaned.  Then it was back to the fray again:  a storming Mike who wasn’t ready to listen to the argument that she couldn’t be grounded for the rest of the semester, which is what he was talking about, in a way…waiting for her Report Card…5 weeks from now.  Nope, Momma not having that, but nor was Momma caving in and giving Emily her freedom today.  I want her to learn something from this, damn it.  But, since I didn’t want to throw her under the house, I was "on her side" and thus the enemy.  And because I wasn’t giving in and letting her off grounding, I was being an evil Mom, and because I wouldn’t listen to her denigrate her Dad or screech at me, I was the Bitch Queen of the World.

I hate teen girl/Dad fights, I really, really do.  Dad’s bring out the highest pitch of girl scream the hormonal brats have in them, Dad’s grow an extra backbone and just get meaner the louder and screechier a teen girl gets and somehow, some way…the Mom always gets blamed by both sides.

Libby’s no better lately; except she doesn’t do it to Dad, she just randomly screams "Shut UP!" in a feral tone at everyone she sees, yells at us all for no good reason, growls at me!!! and just generally verbally assaults us all.  Except Dad of course, she’s smart enough not to scream in his face.  So I’ve had to jump all over HER lately too.

We won’t even talk about Katie.  At least she keeps her grades up to Principal’s List and doesn’t jump on people every second of the day.  But she’s the Dark Angel of the group.

And you ALL know La.

Yep, I’m moving out.  They make my head hurt.

Singapore Slings, Gone But Not Forgotten Friday April 18, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Rambles.
17 comments
That night Jess, Ashley and I went out, all I really wanted out of the experience, besides seeing London/Tristan again, was to wrap my lips around a good, old-fashioned Singapore Sling.  It’d been 10+ years since I’d last had one, I’m loath to say, and by golly, I was ready to renew the auld aquaintance!

We hit a bar before we ever made it to Jess’ house that day, so eager was I to find my old friend and have a sip and chat with it.  The waitress looked at me as if I were insane *hah* when I asked for the drink, the dear, dear drink.  I told her to ask the manager if HE knew it, he said "Nope."  Oh my god, is everyone in this place 26?  So I asked them to go online and FIND the recipe.  I crossed the line there, apparently.  I ended up with some fruity tuity drink I didn’t like so I drank it too fast and we left.

I was sad.

Jess assures me at the bar we’re going to I’ll get my "weird, girlie" drink.  After all, it’s a gay-friendly, cross-dress showcasing, rowdy bar-during-the-week bar…of course they’ll know every drink in the world. 

No.  No.  A thousand times no.  I did end up knowing the manager of the bar because she was a kinky girl I met at the dungeon long ago and far away and we had a college class together my first semester, biology, I think.  But she no could make a Singapore Sling, and didn’t have internet access at the bar. 

So I got drunk on gin and juices.  So sad, was me. 

I’ve got the recipes now, though.  I’m armed and ready for the next time I’m ever out.  I’ve got copies in my purse, I’ve sent copies to Jess.  This travesty will not happen to me again.

Yeah, yeah, I shouldn’t be drinking, and I seldom do.  But when a girl wants a Singapore Sling Fling, I say, LET HER HAVE IT!

“Cause after all, he’s just a man.” Wednesday April 16, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Rambles.
13 comments
I’ll be writing on this entry all day today as I’ve got to duck the Mario Brothers while they wander in and out of my ‘area’, and pop on and off line while I run to the shrink and back, but I couldn’t put off any longer writing about my ugh-ish weekend, why I’m now listening to COUNTRY music…yes, this is Lynn at the keyboard, really.
 
Be back soon…time to feed the men and child.
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Shaddup, Sis.  It’s not you, it’s our Evil Mom…the woman who turned the radio to the blasted country stations on long car rides and made me listen to Tammy, Dolly, Tanya, Loretta, Patsy, et al.  I remember hearing ‘Stand By Your Man’ when I was a little girl and thinking "good grief, what a wimp that woman is"!  But what stood out to me most about that song were the words "Cause after all, he’s just a man". 

It’s a funny song, isn’t it?  Telling women no matter what their man does to forgive him, love him, be proud of him, take it and stand by him….take his shit, another words….be the submissive doormat that seemed to be the woman’s rightful place back in the ‘old days’ and yet, those fateful words "cause he’s just a man" pretty much slap the jerk right where he needs to be…behind the strong woman standing up to him, for him, beside him, behind him propping him up.

Loretta Lynn’s "You Ain’t Woman Enough…" strikes me the same way.  It’s twisted.  "Yeah," she seems to be saying, "he may be sniffing and pawing on you, but he comes HOME to me, whore, and I ain’t giving him up, so SCAT!"  Sure, I can see fighting for your marriage even after finding out there’s been an infidelity…NO, Mike, that’s not permission…you know you’ll end up de-balled…but the message the songs in this time period seem to send just boggle my mind.

He’s a dog, but he’s MY dog, and I love him and you can’t have him, and I’m gonna love him, be proud of him and stand by him.  Cause after all, he’s just a dog.

‘Delta Dawn’ is on the music list because it’s the only song I’ve ever sang well.  I have a Tanya Tucker voice, somehow, and while I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, for some reason I can sing the ever-lovin-heck out of this song.  I’ve always loved it.  Alas, another poor woman pinin’ after a bad man. 

I’ve always loved Garth Brooks and Hank Jr.  I don’t really pay much attention to anyone else in country music, I look for downloads by the people I like and avoid everyone else.  I did like that country cross-over song the woman sang about cutting up the upholstery, taking the baseball bat to the headlights and keying the car of the man who was in the bar cheating on her.  Who would believe I’d like THAT sort of song??  Gee.  I like Toby Keith, Sis, I discovered him after the news played the video of his song about the US kicking ass after 9/11. 

Oh yeah…sucky weekend.  Mike’s got a bad temper, and he just lost it this weekend completely.  Broke the keyboard on the computer and stormed and raged all over the house until I took the kids and left for Mom’s for the weekend and told him I wouldn’t be back until he agreed to counseling.  So, he went to his first meeting Monday and now we’re home again.  He seems to be really aware that he’s got a problem and serious about working on it, which is great, and I’m working on being more aware of listening to his issues with me and what I do to set him off.  All problems are both people’s problem in a relationship, I think, even if it only originates from one of them…it’s a marriage, both of us have to work on it.

I’m still a manic, non-sleeping, cleaning too much wreck, so the shrink took me off the xanax, put me on a new med, took me off the topomax, put me on a new mood stabilizer/anti-seizure med, and if THIS doesn’t stabilize me, I’ll have to go into the hospital for 48 hours to get "maxed out" as she put it so they can find the right dosage and meds to suit me.  At any other point, I’d have freaked at those words:  now, I’m shrugging and thinking, "Whatever it takes, I’m tired of this crap and just want my brain to stop spinning". 

I really hate when I want to listen to country music.  I need my Styx and Kid Rock back.

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Okay, no, I’m not all right with the idea of going into the hospital for 48 hours.  It scares the crap out of me to hear the words "max you out"-wth does THAT mean???  That’s a lot of pressure to put on this new medication to work, especially since I have such a high tolerance for medication dosage, a high incidence of side effects hitting me and don’t generally react well to new meds. 

I am really relieved to be off the Topomax though.  While it has the wonderful side effect of tamping down on the appetite and curtailing any interest in sweets, it has the nickname "Stupidmax" for a really good reason.  People on it for a long time tend to get mush mouth and goo-brained.  My words get all mangled in my mouth and come out sounding nothing like what I meant to say…maybe two words out of a sentence; and I’ll suddenly go blank on saying a simple word like "black".  I couldn’t tell Katie what color my shoes were yesterday.  I couldn’t tell Libby to go get the broom because I couldn’t think of the word, I’m constantly mixing up Laura and Libby’s name lately.  Some people brush that aside and say it’s because I’ve hit my 40’s, but then, they don’t have my brain to deal with-they don’t sit here in tears because they’re trying to dial their kid’s phone number and can’t remember it.  Solaria and I used to call ourselves the "T Twins" because we were both on it before she jumped off the Stupid Wagon and chat about how ditzy we both felt all the time, comparing stupid things we did and couldn’t say, it really helped to have someone else.  It’s so hard with Mike…he really just doesn’t understand mental illness and blames everything on the meds as if they just took me off all my medication I’d be restored to who I was before the aneurysm.  Like the blood that swirled around in my brain pan for 9 days didn’t do any damage, didn’t affect me…
Oh well, after all, he’s just a man.   Have mercy.  He cain’t hep it.
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Well, now I feel stoopid.
Here I was preachin on how women shouldn’t pay any attention to these old country songs about supporting their men, putting up with their crap, how it was all hooey and so ‘back then’…and a few paragraphs later I’m writing about how a marriage with problems is BOTH people’s problems even if the issue is only stemming from one of the spouses.  Yeah, duh, Lynn.  Congrats on working that Stupidmax to the limits and back, girlfriend.

I think it was the incredibly lucky break I got on the way back from the pharmacy (for the second time that day).  First, the radio played Cowboy by Kid Rock and I started to feel like a human for a few moments and then when we got back into the car they’d JUST STARTED Renegade….my favorite Styx song!  All this after I’d written I wanted that music back!!!!

Hey, Spaces…
I need Nickelback’s tour bus to break down right outside our exit, and for them to call the Mario Bros.  I want Mike to bring the band home for some of his "honey’s good home-cooking" as he so cutely puts it to his friends, and I really NEED for them to accept and for Chad to offer to be my sex slave forever.
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And for those of you who are lost, worn out or need medication or a nap after reading all this:  WELCOME TO MY WORLD!!!!!!

La’s Visit to the Doc, Part II, and why kids shouldn’t see Peanut Friday April 11, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Ain't THAT a whoopin'?!.
9 comments
If you haven’t read the post below yet, you don’t know I’d had QUITE the doc’s visit with Laura before she went to her first day of daycare on Thursday, but in all the swirl of my nutso thoughts of coochies and La finally being a big girl and having friends I forgot how she traumatized me before we ever got into the back area of the doctor’s office.

I’ve mentioned many time we live deep in Amish country here (oh great, now I’m wondering what they call girl parts…I know they don’t call ’em coochies!), Sorry…the xanax just takes my mind where it wants lately…
Anyway…I’m sitting there with La in the outer waiting room in an outer seat, La’s in the middle and in walks an elderly Amish lady to come sit beside the Demon.  Oh great, I’m thinking…because anything can come out of that kid’s mouth at anytime.  But no, today she’s being sweet and cute and an utterly adorable 4 year old and the older Amish lady is actually smiling at La’s antics.

Now, I don’t know who is familiar with the comedian Jeff Dunham;  he’s a puppeteer guy, really funny-we just love Peanut and Achmed the Dead Terrorist.  Becca bought herself the DVD for her birthday and brought it over for the week and we’d watched it while La was catching up on Aladdin and Jasmine’s latest adventures.  Except…then she saw the box and demanded to see the DVD too.

Cough, choke, gasp….ummm…what harm could it do, right?  She wouldn’t get the sexual content, Peanut is very amusing and lively, and as long as we could skip Achmed, it’d all be good.  (Remember, La imitates movie quotes and I did NOT want her going to school telling her teacher or friends in that high-pitched voice "I KEEL YOU!")
So I told the kids they could let her see Peanut and THAT IS IT.

Why am I always wrong???

Watch the video, about halfway through you’ll see it and then I’ll tell you what she did to me and the Amish lady…

Yeah, Peanut’s a hoot, isn’t he?   We love him.  Laura loved him.
So we’re sitting and waiting for La’s name to be called and I rubbed my nose.  Out of nowhere, I hear her screech out "What the HELL was that?!"  You just PICKED YOUR NOSEOH MY GOD!  YOU DID!  You! JUST! PICKED YOUR  NOOOOOSEEEE!!!!"   And she bent her head in that unnatural angle so she could look straight up my nose and said "EWWWW, you didn’t even get it all!"

Amish Lady did not find La so amusing after that.  I considered following her when she got up to move and begging the lady to take the child to raise, but knew that was an exercise in futility.  So I just gave the kid the Death Glare, told her to stop being Peanut and never EVER say hell again.

Then we went back thankfully to the doctor’s room and she found out what her dinah was really called here.
*SIGH*

It’s in the Blog-O-Sphere Monday April 7, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Rants.
15 comments
I Gots My Mad On, Y’all.
 
 
It may seem strange that my music has gone quiet now that I’m ready to punch holes in walls and fling dishes at people’s heads, but sometimes that’s just how it goes with crazy people.  What can I tell you;  I am who I am.
 
It’s bad enough having the Luigi Bros. at home whenever they’re not out on a call….and that’s often.  Not that the business isn’t doing well:  one call pays twice as much as Mike made in a day, and he gets at the LEAST one call a day.  The problem IS, a call only lasts a couple hours at most.  THEN the two of them are sitting around in my house with me.
 
God, nature, who or what ever did not MEAN for man and woman to co-exist in one place at the same time all day and all night together.  This is not going well. 
 
My 3 middle kids, Emmy, Katie and Libby have the worst excuse for a father that the Devil ever spawned.  All the kids were very lucky when we finally escaped him, Jess and Becca doubly blessed when they turned past 18 and he could never contact them again no matter what…but the middle kids are still vulnerable.  We hadn’t heard from him in over 8 years, and were all happy.  Each of the girls, on their own, in their own time, have told their friends their ‘real’ dad was dead and that Mike is their REAL dad now.   When I made the decision 8 years ago to cut off all contact with him AND drop any issues with child support *like I was getting any* his parents begged me to still let them visit them.  I reluctantly agreed with the caveat that under no circumstances were they ever to let him be there at the time, to contact them, to have anything to do with that man at all.  He was an abuser, he used meth and crack and alcohol while he was supposed to be taking care of the kids, he even locked them out of the house once in the winter because his girlfriend wanted sex at the time during a visitation.
Any questions why I stopped visitation?
 
Anyway, the girls went to visit G’pa and Granny for the weekend.  Came home with their usual bags of guilt clothing,  Emmy:  "Do they really think they can buy us for how they ignore us for months at a time?" And I find out that Daddy Dearest has been calling G’pa every week.  And "He’s CLEAN and Sober!!!!"  Going to church 3 times a week!   Asks about the girls all the time!  Maybe soon he’ll be mature enough to even contact them….won’t that be GREAT, girls????
 
Talkin’ about losin’ your everlovin’ damn mind.  I’m still seeing rockets, pinwheels and sparklers, not to mention body parts flyin around all red and gorey.  I am mad, and I did not need to get mad while beginning to PMS, in the middle of adjusting to a new medication, dealing with some heavy issues in therapy and the new theory Mike has about our business calls.
 
He thinks sex brings on business.  He’s even tracked it.  Dear God.  Please help me. 
It’s not like I don’t like sex.  Or sex with him.  But ummm….does that sound right to you?
 
Or maybe it’s just my wanna kill something soon mood.
 
At least I’m not alone.  I’ve walked around Spaces.  There are a lot of us not feeling so great lately.
 
I’m going to go do something destructive.  Y’all have a great day!

I’m a Xan-iac, Xan-iac, That’s for shore! Saturday April 5, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Rambles.
9 comments
Now, apparently I was born born bi-polar.  My Dad and his whole ding-dang family are bi-polar and have been under so many different psychiatrists care they could get together and have a convention and fill a Sheraton.  My family collectively have so many different meds, it’s not even funny, except, of course when you get them around a kitchen table and start asking them which ones are working well for them and you get 6 different people singing the praises of 8 or 9 different treatments and doses.
 
It boggles the mind, it really does.
 
I was fine with my Topomax, until of course the Great Brain Crash of 2004.  THEN my mental illness went all wickety-wack and I became certifiably certifiable.  Now I’m a full-fledged anxiety-ridden, agoraphobic with some handy-dandy anger management issues and personality disorders.  Thank you, bleeding brain vessels!
 
My shrinks of the past 3 years have been trying in vain to find a combo of meds that would "fix" me, while my therapist has worked his poor beleaguered tail off trying to "fix" me and get me off the meds.  Bless his heart.
 
I’ve been on 5 kinds of anti-depressants before they tried Celexa and that finally worked.  The Lorezapam worked for about 20 minutes, then they bumped me up to Diazepam which worked for almost a year, then the therapist FINALLY listened to me three days ago when I marched into her office and declared, "Nancy, the Whisky Ain’t-A Working, Anymore!" 

I also sang her a chorus of a DMX song I’ve been singing to the Luigi Brothers and the kids for the past two weeks…now JUST the chorus, because the lyrics are chock-full of the N word, and I hate that crap, but the chorus is me ALL OVER lately:

"
Y’all gon’ make me lose my mind
up in HERE, up in here
Y’all gon’ make me go all out
up in here, up in here
Y’all gon’ make me act a FOOL
up in HERE, up in here
Y’all gon’ make me lose my cool
up in here, up in here"

The therapist angel followed me in and said I needed a bump up, made the sign of the cross because he’d just gone against all he believes in and walked out, and long story a little shorter….now I’m on Xanax.  1 mg 3 times a day.

 
I took 1 the first day and promptly slept for 12 hours.  Apparently I needed some rest?
I called my brother, who’d been on Xanax before, but only on 0.5 mg and he said at his dosage he sort of went into a zone where he got things accomplished he’d never been able to concentrate on before;  that his focus was improved dramatically and he didn’t get groggy at all, perhaps I should bite the pills in half and try that.
 
Sounds good to me, I thought.  I tried it yesterday and had the house swept and mopped before 8 am.  I gave the huge dinosaur Mike insists is just a puppy a bath, changed all the sheets in the house, supervised getting 5 kids cleansed, packed and out the door to go have ‘surprise’ photos taken for me for Mother’s Day AND made lunch for the Luigi Brothers before noon.
 
Wow.  0.5 mg.  Amazing.  BUT the whole point of my having a sedative is for me TO SLOW DOWN, not do a day’s worth of chores in 4 hours.   So this morning I took the 1 mg tablet.  By 8:30 am  I’d cleaned the bathroom, done 2 loads of laundry, washed the dishes, swept and mopped the kitchen and dining room, downloaded some music and am itching to find something else to do.
 
 
Oh, and the reason for this macarbre music that most of you have probably turned your speakers off to already?  This is the stuff I’ve been driven to listen to lately.  Not just once in a while…like constantly.  There’s much darker, I tried to pick the ‘lighter’ stuff….but the first song, "Possum Kingdom" is my SONG.

A NEW MOVIE list,..for those over 35! Friday April 4, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Rambles.
3 comments
I was so disgusted by how many of those earlier movies were so very, very youth-oriented…the only ones I’d seen I’d been forced to watch with my kids…EXCEPT for Boondock Saints….still one of my favorites.  So I made a list of ADULT movies I’ve seen.  NOOOO not those kind of adult movies, you pervs, I’m not sharing *those*.

See how many you’ve watched too.  There are 50 altogether.

  1. All About Eve
  2. Baby Face
  3. Blade Runner
  4. Boondock Saints
  5. Casablanca
  6. Citizen Kane
  7. City of God
  8. Dr. Strangelove:  Or How I Learned to stop worrying & love the bomb
  9. ET
  10. Finding Nemo
  11. The Fly (original version)
  12. Gone With the Wind
  13. American Graffiti
  14. Animal House
  15. The African Queen
  16. The Bad Seed
  17. Godfather I & II
  18. The Good, The Bad and The Ugly
  19. Goodfellas
  20. Invasion of the Bodysnatchers (original version)
  21. It’s a Wonderful Life
  22. The Christmas Story
  23. King Kong (original story)
  24. To Kill A Mockingbird
  25. Bride of Frankenstein
  26. Lawrence of Arabia
  27. Lord of the Rings Trilogy
  28. Manchurian Candidate (original version)
  29. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington
  30. Notorious
  31. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
  32. The Philadelphia Story
  33. Philadelphia *starring Tom Hanks and Denzel Washington I feel EVERY ONE should see*
  34. The Princess Bride
  35. Psycho
  36. Pulp Fiction
  37. Raging Bull
  38. Rocky Trilogy
  39. Schindler’s List
  40. Singing in the Rain
  41. Sound of Music
  42. Some Like it Hot
  43. Secondhand Lions   *BEAUTIFUL MOVIE*
  44. Star Wars (original series)
  45. Streetcar Named Desire
  46. Taxi Driver
  47. Unforgiven
  48. August Rush  *will one day be a classic, every child should see this movie*
  49. Pump Up the Volume ( teen rebel movie for us 80’s kids…"TALK HARD!!!!")
  50. Lonesome Dove

There you go.  There’s Lynn’s list of Have Seen’s, Will Watch Again, Never mind the million more I’ve seen too and have yet to see.  I have no life.  We all know that.  How many of THESE have you seen?  =)

I believe we can Wednesday April 2, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Uncategorized.
3 comments

 

Excerpt from Barack Obama’s speech in New Hampshire:

But the reason our campaign has always been different is because it’s
not just about what I will do as President, it’s also about what you,
the people who love this country, can do to change it.

That’s why tonight belongs to you. It belongs to the organizers and
the volunteers and the staff who believed in our improbable journey
and rallied so many others to join.

We know the battle ahead will be long, but always remember that no
matter what obstacles stand in our way, nothing can withstand the
power of millions of voices calling for change.

We have been told we cannot do this by a chorus of cynics who will
only grow louder and more dissonant in the weeks to come. We’ve been
asked to pause for a reality check. We’ve been warned against
offering the people of this nation false hope.

But in the unlikely story that is America, there has never been
anything false about hope. For when we have faced down impossible
odds; when we’ve been told that we’re not ready, or that we shouldn’t
try, or that we can’t, generations of Americans have responded with a
simple creed that sums up the spirit of a people.

Yes we can.

It was a creed written into the founding documents that declared the
destiny of a nation.

Yes we can.

It was whispered by slaves and abolitionists as they blazed a trail
toward freedom through the darkest of nights.

Yes we can.

It was sung by immigrants as they struck out from distant shores and
pioneers who pushed westward against an unforgiving wilderness.

Yes we can.

It was the call of workers who organized; women who reached for the
ballot; a President who chose the moon as our new frontier; and a King
who took us to the mountaintop and pointed the way to the Promised Land.

Yes we can to justice and equality. Yes we can to opportunity and
prosperity. Yes we can heal this nation. Yes we can repair this
world. Yes we can.

And so tomorrow, as we take this campaign South and West; as we learn
that the struggles of the textile worker in Spartanburg are not so
different than the plight of the dishwasher in Las Vegas; that the
hopes of the little girl who goes to a crumbling school in Dillon are
the same as the dreams of the boy who learns on the streets of LA; we
will remember that there is something happening in America; that we
are not as divided as our politics suggests; that we are one people;
we are one nation; and together, we will begin the next great chapter
in America’s story with three words that will ring from coast to
coast; from sea to shining sea – Yes. We. Can.