Fried brains, anyone?

Somewhere between November 8-12, 2018, I had a stroke. On the 8th, it was the last time I donated blood and dude (Randy) had all sorts of troubles getting my bag to fill; I was plugged in for around an hour with him pushing the needle in deeper, wiggling it around, pulling it out slightly, pumping the blood pressure cup up till my arm turned white and the entire thing tingled and fell asleep – all before he finally went to get a supervisor to check me. She immediately released some of the pressure from the BP cup and pulled the needle out quite a bit and my blood flowed like normal. Meanwhile, Randy played with his red tennis shoes and pants cuffs and talked with other workers. The supervisor kept calling him to come over and finish me.. another worker came over and tried to fill the blood vials needed to accompany a bag of blood and he said in a horrified tone, “Your blood is clotting.” He apologized and said the only way the bag would be good, is if he poked me in my other arm to fill the vials. I told him to do it, don’t throw my bag away after what I’d just put up with to donate. See, for the first time ever, it hurt to donate and made me feel real dizzy and thirsty, and well, odd. There had been this strange burbling (like gurgling and bubbling at the same time) in the arm I’d donated from. My daughter said I was as white as a sheet, too. I had to actually lean on her a bit, to walk out of there. The poor fellow that had finished me and repoked me for the vials, had been shaking like a leaf – he left a tiny bruise and still caused less pain or bruising than Randy had. All I can say is, to me, my body did not feel right. I pushed liquids all evening (it was around 2:30 when I left from donating) and ate two donuts to build up my sugar.

My arm from just above the elbow down, was white for several hours and slightly numb, even after shaking the arm and consistently moving the fingers. It was painful, too. Other than that, I didn’t look different, although my daughter said I “acted” a bit off… personally, I think I was just lost in my head, introspection-mode. And I suspect hindsight on her part, as well. I know I had been beating myself up internally for not entering NaNoWriMo and having a writer’s block with my current novel. There were other little things that were kind of stressing me, but nothing major. More like slightly harsher daily stresses, if that makes sense. By the 11th, my arm was finally back to feeling almost normal, it still kind of hurt when I bent it at the elbow for too long but the color was completely normal and the bruising didn’t get nearly as bad as I expected, concentrating itself to one spot about the size of a quarter with a small area of ‘feathering’. I was still taking my dogs out several times a night, although I was cutting them off earlier in the evening for them with our last time outside around 1a.m. instead of all night long. We had had a few cold nights and I was feeling them.

Somewhere between 11p.m. on the 12th and 1a.m. on the 13th, I recall I started talking funny, with a slur. It was noticeable enough that even Luna looked at me oddly with the head tilting thing going on. Around 6a.m. Springy came out to borrow a set of keys from me and apparently the way I was talking to her, scared the shit out of her and she ran and got Bill. I let her take me to the hospital and I was eventually admitted with the diagnosis of a stroke. I talked slowly with a noticeable slur, but the brain still connected the dots – so to speak. In other words, I still knew what things were and what words meant, could walk and eat and all that other stuff. Suddenly I had nurses treating me like I was an infant and whispering dementia… I finally told one “Fuck you and your dementia claim, I think very well thankyouverymuch.” After testing, they said I had a tiny spot on my frontal lobe but that area isn’t usually associated with speech; one doctor said I had a bit of a blockage in my right carotid artery that would require a surgical fix but this little hospital wasn’t equipped to handle it. She then took Springy aside and said a large artery in the brain was over 90% blocked and I’d require brain surgery. Scared the shit out of my pregnant daughter and treated me like I didn’t have a working brain. She insisted to Springy that I had a history of untreated high blood pressure – before this incident the only time I had high blood pressure was during pregnancies and it was monitored but not pharmaceutically treated – even on the 8th the Red Cross took my BP and stated it was 128/83, not high in any way. Granted it was high in the hospital, but apparently they didn’t factor in 1) I was scared, and 2) I was exhausted going on no sleep.

They scheduled a transfer to Emory, a hospital known for its exemplary brain treatments; the ambulance arrived around midnight or so. I joked with the paramedic and EMT, got onto the gurney myself, etc. They took my vitals as soon as they loaded me on the van, 128/93 and figured it was a failure of their equipment (which is why they arrived so late to get me, I’d been waiting since7p.m.) but I was calm and felt like I was finally in capable hands… so I think it was an accurate reading, actually. I got to Emory around 3a.m. and my vitals were higher although I cannot recall the numbers. My nurse said they were understandable since I was again going on no sleep and up moving around a bit; so they let me sleep until morning rounds began at 7a.m. I brought up the Red Cross incident to a few nurses and doctors; they listened but the vascular doctor explained if a clot had formed it would have hit my lungs. Made sense, but I wasn’t looking for a reason for the clot that settled on my frontal lobe. I accepted it was related to over 45 years of smoking. See, by this time they had explained – after further testing – the blockage and narrowed artery was somewhere in between my right shoulder and carotid in my neck. And my right shoulder is partially why I’m on the disability list… living in a litigious society, I think the MD’s were wondering if my questions were because I wanted to sue Randy from the Red Cross. Nope. Not at all, actually, it was simply the writer in me doing research and wanting answers – which was a good thing, I was thinking creatively! The doctors are guessing (until they can visualize with a scope) that my right arm and brain have been fighting over the blood supply to that main artery that goes into the brain, for quite sometime… perhaps since the late 80’s when I had my right shoulder acromioplasty. All of my internal odd feelings at the blood drive, I wonder if it was my own body screaming at me, “Give that back, we need it!” And then the brain essentially said, “Fuck you, shutting down for a rest.” And I had a stroke.

So I have to have a surgical procedure on December 4th, the scope and hopefully a stent to correct the narrowed artery; I’m on some meds, too. Updates, later… until then, I am so outtie….

My rape and abortion story

A lot happened in the year 1973. I was fifteen, taken out of state by adult men (in their 20’s) and an eighteen year old girl I’d just met… I liked her, she said she felt like my big sister and would protect me. As the youngest in this group – and in my own family of four older brothers – I confess my childish desire for the sister I never had. And she knew one of the guys driving us out of state, so everything would be okay, right? Right?

Blessedly, I don’t remember too much of my rape… the men kept giving me drinks, supposedly ‘sparkling fruit juice’ they called it… they didn’t mention the drugs in the drinks – I just remember feeling weird and floaty, seeing trails of color everywhere, my movements so sluggish that for some reason, it made me laugh. I remember being scared and crying, hurting, as I found myself sprawled on a bed… I think I had my top on still, but couldn’t find my panties. I did find my jeans and slipped them on as my new-found big sister slipped quietly into the room. She placed her slender index finger over her lips and motioned for me to follow her with her other hand. I remember her brown eyes were rounded and wide, I could see a large circle of the whites around her eyes. I figured she was as scared as I was. I followed her down a short hallway. We paused at the end as she stared intently to the left, then slowly slid her body to the right, hugging the wall. I did the same. I saw the two men that had driven us here, sprawled out in chairs, sleeping or passed out. Two other men were sort of hunched over on the couch, asleep? Drunk? Drugged out? I didn’t try to reason out why they were unconscious and still at that moment, I just sidled around the corner following my ‘sister.’

She was standing at a backdoor in the kitchen area, fumbling with locks. Her hands were shaking so hard she could barely undo a lock; she glanced at me with her wide, dark eyes, her black hair tumbling across her face. Her skin was so pale and white, she could have passed for a vampire… but I knew she was of Indian descent, her skin was typically the color of a latte coffee – that definite undertone of a healthy dark brown mixed with creamy whiteness, normally gave her a golden color that enhanced her beauty. Yeah, there was some ‘chick-envy’ going on there; she was everything I wanted to be: tall, slender, usually filled with self-confidence and assurity of herself and her surroundings, she drew people – not just males – to her, like a moth to a flame. But now she was scared and trembling, and that fact ratcheted my fear level way up. I slid over to help her with the locks. There were four of them attached to the door. Who had four locks on their doors? I started at the bottom lock and let her keep working the top; we were in each others way and if we hadn’t been so terrified, I’m sure we would have dropped to the floor, laughing. It seemed to take hours upon hours to unlock those locks, with both of us stiffening and stilling every time a snort or fart or some other gaseous sound or mumble came from the sleeping men. In reality, it simply took a minute or two before we were able to open the door and slip outside.

It was pitch black. I honestly cannot recall the moon or stars in the sky. That back door seemed to open onto a field of shin high grass and weeds with no comforting light pole to be seen. Off to the somewhat distant right, we heard a car pass. I was scared and wanted to run to the left, what if it was one of their friends out looking for us? She leaned over and whispered into my ear, “We need to head to the road, get a ride into town… to safety.” I nodded after a second and we turned to the right, heading for that unknown road. It only took us a few minutes to reach and cross the paved road so we could hitchhike towards lights we could barely see – they seemed so far away, yet they were a beacon to us. We trudged on and on… finally, headlights cast over us and we turned, both of us sticking our right thumbs out as we stood about a foot off the road. The car sped past us, never slowing. Typical teens, we cat-called and hurled curses at the car racing away and continued our walk. The distant lights of the town really didn’t seem any closer, so we quickened our pace.

“If I had known,” she said, her tone very low and quiet, “they would be that way… they’ve always been good to me… kinda like big brothers, ya know?” She paused to chew on her lip and glance sideways at me. She continued after I gave one quick nod. “They only gave me drugs if I asked for them, they never….” I saw tears streaking down her face and she squeezed my arm. “They were never… rough… with me….” Her voice trailed off as tears kept flowing down her cheek. Before I had a chance to speak, we saw the headlights from two different vehicles heading our way and we turned, right thumbs extended.

I remember the high pitched wail of sirens and screams as I tore away, from somebody, and raced to my ‘sister,’ laying in a crumpled heap several feet away from me. The screams grew louder and louder as I saw the thin strips of chrome siding impaled in her beautiful body, another in her forehead. The hands that had been holding me before came back, grabbing and shaking me… that’s when I realized the screams were coming from me. The next thing I remember was standing in a small, rural hospital room, my beautiful sister weakly moaning as I pulled her slightly into my arms… her final breath was a blessing and a curse washing over me and I sobbed. I held her, sobbing; I don’t know how much time passed before I heard a voice calling my name. I finally looked up and saw my father standing in the doorway and raced to him, throwing myself into his arms. I don’t remember leaving the hospital or the long drive home, although I kind of remember being curled up on the back seat, still sobbing for what I’d lost. Later, the memory of laying on my father’s couch and being under an afghan my mother had crocheted; my mother walking through my father’s front door, tears streaming down her face as she gathered me into her arms and held me tight to her chest. Eventually, again, I don’t know how much time had passed, I found myself back inside of a hospital… as the fogginess slowly lifted and I began to emerge from the semi-comatose state I had been in, I understood I was in a mental ward filled with teenagers. I remember trying to work with the doctor to piece together what had happened; he filled me in on what he knew as a fact: my ‘sister’s’ funeral had taken place a week after her death, four weeks earlier; I had been catatonic for five weeks; the various drugs in my system, from that night, had not caused any permanent damage that they were aware of and were no longer influencing me; I needed to accept and understand my role in what happened that night, before I would be allowed to be released.

I remained a resident of that mental ward for about three more weeks as my brain worked to process everything they told me. I was angry. I was grieving. I was filled with a deep sadness and sense of loss – I hadn’t even been able to go to my new-found ‘sister’s’ funeral! I later learned she had lied to me, about a great many things… mainly, that she was newly married and off on a fling before she buckled down to being a wife. And, that she was mentally ill, herself. I ‘met’ her husband on the phone. I was cruel to him and called him a liar. Today, as an adult, I can remember the pain and anguish in his voice – and his compassion for me, as he wished me well. Back then, I just remember shouting at him on the phone, then vomiting.

Roe versus Wade had passed sometime around all of the happenings of my drama. I didn’t want an abortion; my mother dictated I would have one. I didn’t want a child of rape, either. You could have a voice in the decision, if you were sixteen or older. My baby was due two months after my sixteenth birthday. Legal abortions were provided in New York; my mother flew us there. I gaped in wonder at the tall skyscrapers as I dragged my rolling overnight bag behind me; my mother snapped that we weren’t there to sight see. She lectured and hissed at me, telling me I better tell the people at the hospital that I wanted that abortion. But I don’t, not really. I only had around ten days left in my pregnancy, before they would deem me too far along for a safe abortion. I did as my mother told me; I was terrified. When a nurse took me to the elevator, my mom said she had to return home, for work… but she’d return after it was over to collect me. Collect me. In the room I shared with another woman, I huddled on my bed and cried. She was older and tried to reassure me, said it would be okay… and I found myself pouring out my story to her. She came over to my bed and hugged me, wiping the tears from my face – until a nurse walked in and yelled at us. I understand doctors and nurses are trained to save lives, but the nurses cruelty and mean comments were completely uncalled for… you deserve what you’re getting you little whore… shouldn’t have spread your legs you little slut… you don’t deserve this pain free treatment, whore… and the woman in the other bed yelling at the nurses, calling them cruel, heartless bitches. I had been given drugs to induce labor. The pains wracking my abdomen terrified me even more and I screamed until a nurse smacked me sharply across the face… and a tiny misshapen blob popped out of my body. The nurse that had smacked me yelled at me about the mess I had made, and made me clean it up myself.

I’m telling more now than I’ve ever said aloud before, but I won’t describe that tiny lump of flesh to anyone, other than he was a male and, not normal. I personally placed him into the red hazardous waste plastic bag the nurse had tossed at me. I held him in my hands as I was roughly shoved over to a gurney and wheeled into a surgical suite to finish the procedure. I remember the smug look on the face of the nurse that had smacked me, then her downcast eyes as the surgical nurse gasped at my entrance. I remember her whispering, “Oh baby, I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have had to go through that.” I remember her tightly gripping my hand, her other hand stroking my arm as the doctor performed the d(ilation) and c(urettage) procedure that finished cleaning me out. I remember the doctor’s jaw clenching as my angel of mercy whispered what happened. That nurse had me rolled into the recovery room and kept me there, stopping in to check on me often, throughout the night. Before her shift ended, she let me know my roommate had told her what had happened and the nurses that had been so cruel to me were being reported – I didn’t care, I was numb – and that she, my roommate, was fine. She also said my mother was due to pick me up in about an hour. She hugged me and whispered, “I know it isn’t an excuse, but they were angry they had to help end a life… never mind it was conceived in rape or unhealthy and drug laden.” She sighed deeply, and pulled back to look into my eyes before continuing, “They should have given you the care you deserved….” She squeezed me one more time then turned and left.

Months later, my mother told me new rules were put into place at the hospital where I’d been treated so cruelly, because of me. I’m glad other women would be treated with dignity and care, but I couldn’t fully release my anger and anguish over what I had been through… especially when I learned a cousin only a few months older than me was pregnant, and her mother, my aunt, was going to help her raise it. That hurts, still to this day… although in fairness, that child was conceived in love (puppy love, I’m sure) and not from rape… that child wasn’t filled with drugs from drug-laden parents… that child wasn’t malformed or unhealthy.

My own children are aware of some of these details. I had to give them a reason why their mother always becomes so very sad, every April, once they were old enough to make that connection. April is when the child would have been born, you see. My abortion was rough on me and likely changed me, in many ways. There were many mistakes, when Roe versus Wade first came into being. Giving women the right to choose what she does with her own body is not one of them.

I’m outtie….

Sheesh, again?

House hunting is a bitch. Especially when you have to be concerned about more than just yourself.

I was on a writing roll for awhile. Then everything came to a screeching halt because of house hunting… family issues… minor illnesses (flu-type crap)… more family issues… impatience…. *sighs*

Somehow, after one of Microsofts many recent updates, a file folder that held documents I used quite often for my other domain, went missing. Just gone. Nowhere to be found on the laptop I had been using, or the back-up laptop, or the desktop that holds almost every document I’ve created for the last several years. Just vanished. Pain in the ass, but I logged into the site and simply downloaded everything. But the template I had created was now gone – okay, I made a new one in minutes, but still…. I resent Microsoft changing where I save items – I use to save safely into my Documents folder because even if a PC crashes, those items are likely savable… no, in their wisdom, Microsoft changed the location to the OneDrive cloud thingy and apparently periodically remove items to create space for new items, and that must have been where the file folder previously mentioned was saved. Arghhhhh!

You know that ‘Do Not Call’ list you can register your number to so that it’s supposedly illegal for data farmers and scammers to get your info and call you? I’ve been registered for years. Yeah, they’re calling me. Daily. Many, many, many times a day.

M’kay, I’ve bitched so I am so outtie….

Blah blah blah

I know, it’s been way too long since my last update and there has actually been a fair amount of things going on. Where to begin? So, I did end up purchasing a camper with a slide-out, a 32 footer, 2001 model that weighs a ton (not literally, thank god!) I still own the RV and will officially put it up for sale after the holidays. I also bought a 2003 Chevy Silverado and the engine roars to life like a beautiful beast… which is why I call it The Beast. Grandbaby says it’s a “Silverado” because it’s silver. *grins*

I started school. I withdrew from school two weeks later. *sighs* I shoulda followed my own instincts instead of allowed myself to be influenced to start when I did. It was too soon, plain and simple. I started October 30 and I honestly had still not recovered from the trauma of selling my house, moving into a hotel where my poor Collies got fleas for the first time in their lives, moving into the RV with a newly discovered roof leak that contributed to my bronchitis coming back with a vengeance, then moving into my camper which truly feels like a home to me, by the way. Moving happens to be one of the top five stressors and I moved three times within the space of roughly ninety days. I donated to NaNoWriMo and didn’t get my donation gifts, nor did I write anything due to school, etc. Heard a close family member is losing his fight to cancer, much to the dismay to his children – although he’s a true fighter and not ready to roll over and die, either… and, daughter’s landlord fell pretty darn ill and she is the main one that was visiting him in hospital for the three weeks he was there – and is doing most of his running, chores, etc.

I did manage to read a few more books, but only posted/wrote one review. After upping my Goodreads goal to 75 books, I need to read six more to meet said goal – but I am still two books ahead of schedule.

I paid off my Rooms To Go account, loaned my daughter a grand for x-mas shopping and more, paid on credit cards – but still owe more than I want still. I redecorated the camper – removed the high bed and now have an office in the former bedroom, and gave the futon to my elder grandbaby after I purchased an oh-so-comfy daybed. I’m kinda liking my iPhone 7, more than I ever did the iPhone 6, but some of the OS changes have made a few favored apps incompatible, and some are apps I purchased awhile ago. *grrrr* I am paying most of the housing costs for my family, which is still cheaper than what I has been paying in my house – for the most part. My Starbucks spending has roughly quadrupled and I’m spending on my credit cards as quickly as I make payments… hopefully it’ll slow once the holiday is over. Sheesh, and I don’t even like x-mas!

*laughs* Five hundred words in this post (and counting) is the most I’ve written in awhile. With that said, I am so outtie….


So, the closing went as smoothly as a closing can… the week in the hotel was plain out awful, the room sucked, my poor Collies got fleas there! My girls had never had fleas before in their lives, either. I purchased a used RV to live in, kind of too quickly cause it definitely has issues… but, the girls and I are parked in Spring & Bill’s front yard – with their flirtatious landlord’s permission, too. The girl’s stress level is beginning to level out, although they do get a bit nervous when I have to leave for a bit… they’re not getting enough exercise, either, with my sedate walking. Bill suggested I look into an actual camper and I have been, actually. A camper is slightly roomier compared to an RV; currently the girls and I trip over one another, a lot, especially if it comes with a slider.

I haven’t paid my credit cards in full, but have paid them down considerably; all of my former utilities are paid in full, of course. I outright own the RV and don’t pay rent, although I will be paying the larger portion of Spring & Bill’s electric bill to help them out, and I paid their internet bill – even though the speed is slower than molasses… hopefully, Xfinity will be installed on Friday the first. I have the lion’s portion of my house profit in a savings account, with several thousand dollars set aside for bill paying, too. I have refunds from my escrow account and house insurance coming yet, too. If I can get into a decent camper where I’m not tripping over my girls – two and four legged varieties – sometime soon-ish, I told Spring I could probably stay in her backyard for an indefinite time period, saving money to add to my savings and helping her out.

I completed another couple of reviews, although I’d actually read around five books during my time in the hotel. It took some time to upload them to the various sites… I also bought myself a new laptop. Dell Inspiron, of course. I gave Spring one of my other ones… oh, and bought myself an iPhone 7+ too, gave Spring my iPhone 5S. Been doing Starbucks for all adults almost daily – my biggest expense and necessary luxury! That’s the biggest highlights from the last two weeks. No writing, although getting ideas. Oh yeah, I’ve also been fighting a case of bronchitis since closing, too.

M’kay, I am so outtie….

Will I ever write again?

So I’m stressed, royally. On reviewing, I’m over 50 books now… just thought I’d mention that since my previous post was about some reviews, porn versus erotica. I checked with SNHU about possibly returning to school, working towards a BA in psychology to add to my current degree.

M’kay, I’ve kept this hush-hush… I was made an offer on my home that I felt I couldn’t turn down. Yeah, it’s officially Sunday now – closing is in two freakin’ days. Spring and family (Bill is such a hard worker!) have already moved all the big stuff – that I’m keeping – like my bedroom outfit, desks (I think I have four), bookcases (sheesh, six or seven I kept, two went to Goodwill and two went to Spring), couch and lazyboy rocker went to Spring, fridge (buyer wants to put a stainless steel one in, mine was black), and washer… the waterbed and matching oak dresser went to Goodwill, along with a very heavy desk and another couch.

Sounds okay so far, right? I still have a minimum of one trailer load of boxes to go into storage… yeah, every thing but my laptops, one desktop PC, and a couple of outfits, went into storage. Why? I have no clue where I’m gonna live. Hence, Stressville, U.S.A. I’m in a hotel for a week. Planned on doing house searches here which is why I kept the one desktop out… but, apparently the APC battery backup does NOT like the outlets here and keeps beeping. And my Collies are stressed enough without listening to the beeps. Sheesh, Stevie wouldn’t even walk upstairs to our room – sucks, btw – and had to be carried up by either Spring or D, I’m not sure who cause I was trying to get Luna to chill and quit whine/crying like she was injured. She’s scared. Both girls are, they’ve never been in a move before… I owned my home just shy of six years… Luna is five and Stevie is four. Add into the mix their alpha is stressed – moi’ – and we have semi-terrified dogs. *sighs*

I’m hungry. I’m sore. I’m exhausted. I need a shower. I was ready to cry when Spring and family went home. I hope sleeping in this king-size bed with me will help the girls chill out, cause I’m going to be in and out of the room from tomorrow on. Finishing up the house, closing, searching for a place to live… k, getting myself stressed again and watching Animal Planet was leveling me out. So, I am so outtie….


So I’m unsure how to change the privacy setting and make this area for me and not the public eye. Haven’t figured it out yet – other than to simply add more posts to kind of hide the ones that are deeply personal, bury them within babble more or less. One change I did make was for summaries instead of full text be the main view, although as Admin I, of course, still see the full text.

My daughter and eldest grand daughter moved a heavy desk for me; I haven’t really set it up, although the PC is plugged in again. I moved an empty bookcase to its new location, but only managed to clean it and put one item on it. Still need to move all of the books (and old software and DVDs and etc.) to it, but haven’t had the gumption to do so. Only thing I managed to move was my Aero Garden thingy… maybe I’ll check into buying seeds for it again. Eventually. At least it no longer holds layers upon layers of dust any more. That’s something, I suppose.

K, I am so outtie….

the first

During and after the election, I began researching what country it would be possible for me to move to.  now, while I am not a student of history, I do read and am capable of seeing patterns. Naturally, the majority of the countries I might be able to afford a move to and live in, are… well, repressed, fairly poor, and simply not known to love Americans. Expats or not. So I revised my search and found some different but usable alternatives in the country I’ve always loved but have never been able to visit. The search and my findings are all still open on my desktop….

I recently purchased one of those multi-movie DVDs of Paranormal Activity, movies one through five. After catching some sleep – I had been up all night, election night, per my usual routine – I began watching the movies. I understand why audiences were scared and/or creeped out, even though I was only somewhat interested and amused by the creativity. After finishing the movies, I stuck the first Jurassic Park movie in; I’m on the third in the series now. I logged onto Facebook once and saw various friends – and more – sending good-bye announcements, that they were slipping into silent mode as this country enters a new era… I followed suit.

I haven’t had many updates to my blog of late, although my recent typical routine has only been posting once or twice a month. I had been commenting to my daughter that what truly troubled me was my lack of inspiration and creativity, and inability to work on my novels. She had made a worthwhile critique to the Lynette/Lachlan story that I would like to incorporate; but, I need to finish the Allison/Robert story before I get back into the earlier work. I’ve tried to write more of Allison’s story, but it’s like I am straining for ideas, straining to reach my creativity. In an earlier post I had mentioned the disarray my house is currently in, due to a busted water pipe, and I’ve toyed with the idea that that could be the cause of my lack of creativity… well, daughter has done some of the work – enough that I can begin to put things near where they use to be. Or re-arrange, which I’m actually doing. But still no desire to write.

I’m not dreaming anymore, either. At least, I cannot recall any dreams or direct them as I once use to do. Most of my characters introduced themselves to me in my dreams, gave me a chance to get to know them and their stories so that I could write them. Even Phantom of the Opera has not been helping, and that, in my view, is quite bad. However, in the deepest part of my brain, some ideas have been trying to form. Truths.

I don’t want to leave America. Not because I have faith in my country or fellow man, because I don’t. Not anymore. No, for purely selfish reasons… my love of family, the need to be somewhat near them. Moving almost 4000 miles away would make it close to impossible to see my daughter and grand daughters, let alone the hope of ever repairing the damaged relationship with my son. I guess fear would be incorporated into this, as well… starting completely over in a new country at the age of 58, disabled, uncertain if my disability pay would follow… or continue, for that matter. You know, my daughter said it’s “only four years.” A deep, inner fear is that a huge change – for the worse – is in the making now.

I just began crying at the scene where the Navy and Marines arrive to rescue Dr. Grant’s party. I’m crying easier now and that’s not necessarily a good thing. All the lawsuits and criminal charges against Trump – will they just “go away” now that he’s the President elect? The sheep have spoken, the crazies run the asylum; I am so outtie….


So last Thursday I picked up a Ford Flex from Enterprise and headed to Cartersville to pick up my Ding-a-ling and family; after a speedy dinner [provided by Dingy] and loading the Flex, we got on the road for our long, long, long, l o n g trip to Fargo, ND. Hope kept us entertained with her singing and silly chatter while D totally embraced the ‘sullen teen’ persona – you know, the one that cannot associate with [blech!] family but must keep their nose pressed to the mobile screen viewing YouTube videos… unless money was being spent or goodies being purchased, then she was her usual cuddle-bunny-self! *grins* Ahh, teenagers, I remember them well… *glancing knowingly at Dingy*

I drove through the night until around 10a.m., then Dingy took over for the last 300 miles. We arrived in Fargo Friday afternoon, and we were all exhausted. We relaxed in our lovely room at the Hilton Garden Inn – meaning, the adults relaxed as Hope explored the room and D & Jonathan explored the hotel. Although, I think we were all asleep before nine [I fell asleep by 8:30!] Saturday, if memory serves [bear with me, I’m old *grins*] we all went swimming for a bit, used the whirlpool and relaxed until time to get ready for Jennie & Ryan’s wedding. Then we were shocked when Micah showed up! Micah and Bill really hit it off, and we had a chance to catch up some – which made us arrive late to the wedding! Ack! Micah said he was blaming me. Naturally, I blame Micah.

Jennie was a beautiful bride, the ceremony was quite lovely… pictures were taken, and then we were off to the reception. O.M.G. D was a dancing fool, hardly left the dance floor at all, and some of Jennie’s friends were pointing at her – trying to get the ones that didn’t know how to dance, to copy D’s example! So many people popped over to tell me how beautiful she is – she looked like a princess. And little Hope, in her pink leopard print dress was absolutely adorable! Had a great time catching up with family – oh yeah *giggles* when Dave was walking Patti down the aisle after the wedding ceremony and saw me, he screamed like a girl! We didn’t stay till the end, much to D’s dismay, because poor Hope was a walking zombie from sheer exhaustion… we left around 10 or so, and again all fell asleep pretty quickly. Dingy and family woke early and spent the day at the pool and fitness room – she was trying to give Mom some quiet time – and I did a tiny bit of computer work. Got Scrivener set up on both laptops, logged into school and greeted one of my peers, downloaded pertinent classroom data, things like that. Also got one of the novel’s I’m working on set up in Scrivener.

Dave, Patti, Jennie, Ryan & Jon surprised us with a visit to our room, and we made arrangements to meet them for dinner after we visited for a half hour. Had a nice dinner, lots of talking and catching up and tons of hugs when dinner was done… we went back to the hotel for more relaxation and swimming after dinner. Monday we packed up and were checked out, on the road by noon.

Broke down in St. Cloud, MN and the Enterprise there totally sucked! Accused us of smoking in the car, said the Dallas office where I rented the Flex were horrid and gave me a dangerous vehicle [they did not! The Dallas branch is Awesome!!] Idiots cost us almost 3-hours in lost time before we finally got a replacement vehicle [2015 Suburban – roomy, decent gas mileage, but none of the luxuries we had in the Flex, like Sirius radio] and had all of us angry as all get out at Enterprise – thanks to the manager there.

So, here it is 8:30 Tuesday night and I’m home and in my pj’s. I turned the vehicle in a day early, let my Dallas office know how St. Cloud bad-mouthed them, got my girls [Luna cried!!!!] and got my electronic’s unpacked… nothing else, though. Trying to stay up a bit longer to get closer to my normal routine, but all-in-all, it was a fun trip and we all enjoyed it.

Now, need to get a few more things done so I am so outtie….


Yesterday, Dingy and family came over early – Dingy was going to court with me, as support, while my favorite son-in-law mowed my yard [and oh my gosh it looks good!] and installed my new security door knobs – real pretty ones, too.

Dingy and I left for court; I got pulled over right across the street from the courthouse. Apparently during the beginning of James’ craziness and Mommy Dearest’s initial attacks, I inadvertently forgot to renew my tags. Well shit, I’ve been driving on expired plates for seven months! :^O  So I got to court 20-minutes late. No biggie, since Mommy Dearest’s attorney was over two and a half hours late! Dingy had to change an appointment for D, because she didn’t want me to sit there alone.

The GaL said we could leave at noon, but be back by 2:30 and my portion would be heard. So Dingy and I went home and ate lunch with the family. Saw rain was moving in when we were about halfway back to courthouse; it rained like cats and dogs, it was a bit difficult to see but we made it safely and only three minutes late – both of us soaked to the gills. I felt so guilty at 4 when I realized D was coming home from school to no one there – Dingy and I were still waiting for the case to be called. We also noticed Mommy Dearest wasn’t there for the afternoon session, as well.

I was finally called back at five, and believe me I felt guilty for tying Dingy and family up for the entire day! The DFCS attorney was asking for a 3-month continuance, and the case workers were not pleased by this, and asking that everything remain the same excluding a need for new attorney’s to represent Phillip, Joe and James. It seems this was a ‘special hearing’ to terminate all parental rights. The DFCS attorney also mentioned another child had attempted to commit suicide – little Bella tried to kill herself! Man, I feel so sick… James almost succeeded, now Bella… they are both in mental institutions.

Long and short of it, I dropped a suitcase of Joe’s clothes off at DFCS; Judge once again thanked me for trying to help children not related to me, and granted my wish to not be Joe’s guardian any longer; GaL said he’d stay in contact with me and I stated the same and hugged him. Mommy Dearest’s attorney was visibly surprised when I stated the GaL was correct, I plan to list my home for sale and move because I cannot tolerate living in the same state as that woman anymore. The damage she has done to her own children, and my family, is unforgiveable.

DFCS said they will likely initiate an investigation into S and his custody of Squishy, since he is allowing Mommy Dearest unfettered contact with the baby. They said I will likely be the first contact – no matter where I am living – to get Squish to safety. Dingy will likely be the second contact, as his only ‘normal’ [i.e. no mental illnesses in family] blood relative after me.

My tag was renewed. Truck passed emissions with no problem. Purchased new headlights because driver’s side is burnt out. Filled the truck. Came home and played with the dogs; they were acting closer to normal, they know mommy isn’t stressed anymore – even though I do have a ticket to pay for the expired tags [$169, best I can figure out – ouch!] and we ate dinner. Texted with Dingy off and on for a bit; now, back to schoolwork. I’ll finish packing Joe’s crap later.

For now, feeling a bit more relaxed, so I am so outtie….