I guess now this blog will get kind of boring; because it will document what is going on HERE instead of THERE. But what the hey.
We made it to Valentine yesterday, Saturday, at 1 PM Central time. Mike went in to the room immediately and took a nap, while I set up my internet and got on line, answering emails, etc. Valentine is 38 miles east of our new home; a quaint and bustling little burg with very nice people. There is a high school rodeo competition today at the fairgrounds - which are next to the stockyards. They don't slaughter here; they merely hold the animals and ship them out. The whole town smells like clean, fresh cow poop! LOL
When Mike awakened, we ate lunch - our motel room is huge, has maple board ceilings, and a kitchen, so I bought real food instead of restaurant food - and then I took him and the dogs to Cody. Even at 80 mph the little two lane road seems so long and it seems like we are not going that fast! Hills, hills, and more hills. We arrived at the house, and Nancy was there. Nancy is a great person - she moved from the Black Hills of SD to Valentine to be a ranch hand; has a lot of experience in handling animals, has three kids and an ex-husband. She is also the seller of the home and the real estate agent. You can tell she doesn't want to get rid of the place; but she simply can't keep it any more. We were cleaning up after the storms yesterday, and Mike wandered around looking at 'his' new home. Grin. He was just as impressed as I with the amazing woodwork, the stained glass windows, the immenseness of the 60 hilly acres that goes with the house. He fixed some old brass doorknobs and got them working, looked at what else would need to be done, both right away and in the future - the house was built in 1910 after all, and has issues.
Got back and had an email from a friend saying that I needed to call him so he could tell me what was going on in Hardeeville. I emailed him back and told him I wasn't interested. I have no interest in that soap opera any more; people whose souls are so empty that they have to suck the life out of others' have no fascination for me at all. They get what they deserve. One of my sweet young friends told me last Wednesday as we said goodbye that she couldn't believe what we were doing, because I am such a people person! ROFLMAO Me? Well, I once believed tht people could be helped to achieve a greater fullness in their lives, once they were educated and shown a better way. Now I know better. Those people don't want to improve themselves or their lives, they want someone else to do it for them, and get angry when no one can or will. I leave them to their own devices, and seek my own.
I sit here and drink the purest water God ever made, amazed once again at the flavor and clear beauty of not just the water but everything around me, and my soul is satisfied. I saw my first bluebird yesterday; he lives on my farm... My Farm. The moving truck comes Friday, and then the fun begins, as we try to put everything we had piled up in a 1000 sq foot house into a 1750 sq foot house. Mike gets his shop at last, I get my kiln room, and a bay window to put my decorations in. Sweet peaceful clarity at last.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Oh Grow UP!
As I knew would happen, the Hardeeville Today blogs got absolutely vicious after I read my speech Thursday night.
How did I know it would happen? Because I know these folks. Know them all too well. Rodney and I even discussed it; he was worried about how I might feel, that I might be hurt. (All they have said about him in the past two months, and he was worried about me being hurt.)
I feel two ways about the lies, gossip, innuendo, and insults.
1. They have proved me to be absolutely right in what I said about them. They have lived down to my expectations of them.
2. They don't matter in my decision - and they cannot stand that. They cannot stand that I am putting myself, my husband, and my life first, because for so long I put them first, and they think that I "owe" them.
WSAV came over on Friday to do a followup story. She wasn't there five minutes when I knew that she was there digging for dirt, trying to get me to say something nasty. Didn't happen. She did her best as an 'investigative reporter' but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. Anyone with any brain function at all knows what is going to be the results of this election. All she could do was report on what a special election would cost the town. Well, no one complained about me having to pay two years ago for my election - an election where I ran unopposed, yet still had to pay. No, that was ok.
These nasty horrible people do not care whom they hurt; me, my husband, my daughter, my friends. They live to hurt - to lie, to imply, to cut to the quick. That is the only way that they have power over others; the only way they know to empower themselves. What was funny, though, were the phone calls I got that thanked me for exposing them for what they were at last. One woman born and raised here told me that it should have been said 20 years ago!! Many calls of support and concern. One call that tried to excuse their behavior.
I felt sorry for Erinn, the editor who had to cut some of the really bad stuff. She was openmouthed at the vitriol, stunned at the purposeful cruelty. I told her that in the next four years she would be able to make her name in the news business, reporting on what happened here. Forensic audit? There are auditors salivating to put in the bid for that - they know nothing will be found, and it will be easy money for them. And the results of the audit will not give them any ammunition. They might spend another $30,000 for a second audit just to be sure. And it will be another waste of money.
I guess everyone expects me to be angry, to respond, to fight with them. I won't. Why not? Because they simply do not matter. They are exactly what I said they were - and they deserve everything that is coming to them. And I have a life to pursue.
How did I know it would happen? Because I know these folks. Know them all too well. Rodney and I even discussed it; he was worried about how I might feel, that I might be hurt. (All they have said about him in the past two months, and he was worried about me being hurt.)
I feel two ways about the lies, gossip, innuendo, and insults.
1. They have proved me to be absolutely right in what I said about them. They have lived down to my expectations of them.
2. They don't matter in my decision - and they cannot stand that. They cannot stand that I am putting myself, my husband, and my life first, because for so long I put them first, and they think that I "owe" them.
WSAV came over on Friday to do a followup story. She wasn't there five minutes when I knew that she was there digging for dirt, trying to get me to say something nasty. Didn't happen. She did her best as an 'investigative reporter' but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. Anyone with any brain function at all knows what is going to be the results of this election. All she could do was report on what a special election would cost the town. Well, no one complained about me having to pay two years ago for my election - an election where I ran unopposed, yet still had to pay. No, that was ok.
These nasty horrible people do not care whom they hurt; me, my husband, my daughter, my friends. They live to hurt - to lie, to imply, to cut to the quick. That is the only way that they have power over others; the only way they know to empower themselves. What was funny, though, were the phone calls I got that thanked me for exposing them for what they were at last. One woman born and raised here told me that it should have been said 20 years ago!! Many calls of support and concern. One call that tried to excuse their behavior.
I felt sorry for Erinn, the editor who had to cut some of the really bad stuff. She was openmouthed at the vitriol, stunned at the purposeful cruelty. I told her that in the next four years she would be able to make her name in the news business, reporting on what happened here. Forensic audit? There are auditors salivating to put in the bid for that - they know nothing will be found, and it will be easy money for them. And the results of the audit will not give them any ammunition. They might spend another $30,000 for a second audit just to be sure. And it will be another waste of money.
I guess everyone expects me to be angry, to respond, to fight with them. I won't. Why not? Because they simply do not matter. They are exactly what I said they were - and they deserve everything that is coming to them. And I have a life to pursue.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Yes, It's All True
Yes.
I am Bea Jones.
I have lived in Hardeeville for 23 years. Raised my kids here, bought a house here, paid taxes here. But, more...
I worked EMS for 7 years; from the days when Mayor Thornton Butler threatened to get his tow truck and drag an ambulance down to Hardeeville for us to have our own, thru the days when we got paid $10 a 12-hour day, $10 a call, to the days when we actually had a salary and benefits. I worked on the Lowcountry Weekly under Grayson Smith, the Hardeeville Times under Ridgeland ownership, and the Carolina Morning News as a weekly local columnist. In the meantime, I worked many different jobs and volunteered for many different organizations - First Steps, Rotary, the Hardeeville Fire Department. I did it all to make your lives better, and because it was fun, and a challenge, and I like a challenge.
But I always swore that when Hardeeville got another stoplight, I was out of here. I have talked for years about moving - to Idaho, where my brother lives, to New Mexico, where I used to live, even to Las Vegas to be close to my oldest son.
You see, ever since I was 14, I wanted to own my own farm. I raised chickens here in Hardeeville til they zoned me out of them. I grew and still grow my own vegies and herbs in my backyard, and had my own greenhouse. No government in Hardeeville liked my blackberry bushes, cherry bushes, or peach trees in my front yard - and I didn't give a damn. I love horses, and chickens, yes, and cows too. I've made my own butter and cheese and yogurt. I've done everything I could to be a farm girl in the middle of a town. And I have looked forward to the time when Mike and I could retire and have the farm we wanted. Six years ago Rodney Cannon asked me to run for Council to help bring the dream we had shared for over 15 years to reality. And I agreed. I thought we had plenty of time, and I knew that what Rodney and I were doing was the right thing to do.
Well, three years ago, Mike was disabled. We had a hard three years - and the only person who ever even tried to help us or gave a damn was Rodney Cannon - who was going thru his own life upheaval. Then last year I was diagnosed with lupus. I started looking on the Internet for a farm that Mike and I could work - and afford. Well, I found it. On May 15th, 2008, we were approved to buy 60 acres and an old, 1910 farmhouse in a tiny town in Nebraska that is losing population, where people are warm and funny and friendly and open and honest, and hardworking. Lots of deer, wild turkeys that roost in the farm's trees, antelope, coyotes, mountain lions and wildcats and prairie dogs, and even elk wander across the property. We have barns, and an old dairy to run, and lots of room to do what we want. It is exactly what I have always wanted, exactly what I have always dreamed of, and exactly where I planned to be in my life - I am just going 10 years sooner than I expected. Most importantly - no interstate for 100 miles, no noise, no pounding growth that demands answers - and no people who think that I owe them a thing, nevermind what my life is like, what my dreams are, or what I want.
I don't ask for your sympathy, your support, your understanding, or your concern. Bluntly, when I was fighting in tandem with Rodney all those years - he in politics, me in the papers - to make this area better, from better medical care to better political representation, I didn't ask you to consider my children or my husband or my life. And - few of you did, any more than you considered Rodney's. And I still didn't care, because I have always believed in "Do What is Right, Let the Consequence Follow". We strove to do what was right, to fulfill our commitments to you. Well, now those commitments are over. You decided that you don't want everything that he and I have fought so hard to bring you - local, statewide, and national fame for being the best, the most innovative, the least expensive, and the most businesslike government we could provide you. Now I will seek out my own dreams and goals and life. I owe you nothing, and you owe me nothing. I only regret leaving the few staunch, honest, and decent friends I have made here - the True Christians, not the ones who gossip in their churches, their filthy cowardly lying emails, their self-righteous little cliques, behind their hands and anonymous screens and phone calls - but I do not regret for one minute any single thing I have done here, nor do I regret leaving. I look forward to living my dream at last. If that offends anyone - well, too bad. You'll just have to be offended.
I. Have. A. Life.
I am Bea Jones.
I have lived in Hardeeville for 23 years. Raised my kids here, bought a house here, paid taxes here. But, more...
I worked EMS for 7 years; from the days when Mayor Thornton Butler threatened to get his tow truck and drag an ambulance down to Hardeeville for us to have our own, thru the days when we got paid $10 a 12-hour day, $10 a call, to the days when we actually had a salary and benefits. I worked on the Lowcountry Weekly under Grayson Smith, the Hardeeville Times under Ridgeland ownership, and the Carolina Morning News as a weekly local columnist. In the meantime, I worked many different jobs and volunteered for many different organizations - First Steps, Rotary, the Hardeeville Fire Department. I did it all to make your lives better, and because it was fun, and a challenge, and I like a challenge.
But I always swore that when Hardeeville got another stoplight, I was out of here. I have talked for years about moving - to Idaho, where my brother lives, to New Mexico, where I used to live, even to Las Vegas to be close to my oldest son.
You see, ever since I was 14, I wanted to own my own farm. I raised chickens here in Hardeeville til they zoned me out of them. I grew and still grow my own vegies and herbs in my backyard, and had my own greenhouse. No government in Hardeeville liked my blackberry bushes, cherry bushes, or peach trees in my front yard - and I didn't give a damn. I love horses, and chickens, yes, and cows too. I've made my own butter and cheese and yogurt. I've done everything I could to be a farm girl in the middle of a town. And I have looked forward to the time when Mike and I could retire and have the farm we wanted. Six years ago Rodney Cannon asked me to run for Council to help bring the dream we had shared for over 15 years to reality. And I agreed. I thought we had plenty of time, and I knew that what Rodney and I were doing was the right thing to do.
Well, three years ago, Mike was disabled. We had a hard three years - and the only person who ever even tried to help us or gave a damn was Rodney Cannon - who was going thru his own life upheaval. Then last year I was diagnosed with lupus. I started looking on the Internet for a farm that Mike and I could work - and afford. Well, I found it. On May 15th, 2008, we were approved to buy 60 acres and an old, 1910 farmhouse in a tiny town in Nebraska that is losing population, where people are warm and funny and friendly and open and honest, and hardworking. Lots of deer, wild turkeys that roost in the farm's trees, antelope, coyotes, mountain lions and wildcats and prairie dogs, and even elk wander across the property. We have barns, and an old dairy to run, and lots of room to do what we want. It is exactly what I have always wanted, exactly what I have always dreamed of, and exactly where I planned to be in my life - I am just going 10 years sooner than I expected. Most importantly - no interstate for 100 miles, no noise, no pounding growth that demands answers - and no people who think that I owe them a thing, nevermind what my life is like, what my dreams are, or what I want.
I don't ask for your sympathy, your support, your understanding, or your concern. Bluntly, when I was fighting in tandem with Rodney all those years - he in politics, me in the papers - to make this area better, from better medical care to better political representation, I didn't ask you to consider my children or my husband or my life. And - few of you did, any more than you considered Rodney's. And I still didn't care, because I have always believed in "Do What is Right, Let the Consequence Follow". We strove to do what was right, to fulfill our commitments to you. Well, now those commitments are over. You decided that you don't want everything that he and I have fought so hard to bring you - local, statewide, and national fame for being the best, the most innovative, the least expensive, and the most businesslike government we could provide you. Now I will seek out my own dreams and goals and life. I owe you nothing, and you owe me nothing. I only regret leaving the few staunch, honest, and decent friends I have made here - the True Christians, not the ones who gossip in their churches, their filthy cowardly lying emails, their self-righteous little cliques, behind their hands and anonymous screens and phone calls - but I do not regret for one minute any single thing I have done here, nor do I regret leaving. I look forward to living my dream at last. If that offends anyone - well, too bad. You'll just have to be offended.
I. Have. A. Life.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
There ain't nothin better than a good "I TOLE you so!"
Phone's been ringing off the hook today. "What have we done? OMIGOD I trusted him/her, and he/she LIED!!!! Who am I going to go to now? Where can I get help now? Who is going to run this City?"
Yup, right straight back to 20 years ago. That's where the election took Hardeeville. In two weeks the developers will be lining up to change their development agreements. One is already walking away from a $2 million investment because of the election. ROFLMAO!!!! Buy lots of KY and bend over Hardeeville, you are about to take it all... because you made the election about personal vendettas, power, and conceit. Now you are going to find out what Hell is. Hell is the people on fixed incomes losing their homes to taxes. Hell is watching the people you 'trusted' screw you with a smile. Hell is what we pulled you out of - what you begged us to pull you out of - 20 years ago. There is no salvation, no recourse. In six years Traditions, Hilton Head Lakes, and Hampton Pointe residents will run the City Council, and no one in power on Council today will have any power - and neither will the local residents, unless they let you. Welcome to Hell. You asked for it, you got it. Say goodbye to gramma, say goodbye to progress, say goodbye to reason - the good ol boys have it back, and just like everywhere else, they will walk away with full pockets and the poor people, the ones who bought into their lies about how THEY could do so much better, will lose.
BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
The developers are coming - and it isn't personal, just business. If you are a fan of the Godfather Trilogy, you know what that means. Me, I'm lovin' it. People get the government they deserve. And a good "I Tole you so" simply cannot be beat for pure gratification.
Phone's been ringing off the hook today. "What have we done? OMIGOD I trusted him/her, and he/she LIED!!!! Who am I going to go to now? Where can I get help now? Who is going to run this City?"
Yup, right straight back to 20 years ago. That's where the election took Hardeeville. In two weeks the developers will be lining up to change their development agreements. One is already walking away from a $2 million investment because of the election. ROFLMAO!!!! Buy lots of KY and bend over Hardeeville, you are about to take it all... because you made the election about personal vendettas, power, and conceit. Now you are going to find out what Hell is. Hell is the people on fixed incomes losing their homes to taxes. Hell is watching the people you 'trusted' screw you with a smile. Hell is what we pulled you out of - what you begged us to pull you out of - 20 years ago. There is no salvation, no recourse. In six years Traditions, Hilton Head Lakes, and Hampton Pointe residents will run the City Council, and no one in power on Council today will have any power - and neither will the local residents, unless they let you. Welcome to Hell. You asked for it, you got it. Say goodbye to gramma, say goodbye to progress, say goodbye to reason - the good ol boys have it back, and just like everywhere else, they will walk away with full pockets and the poor people, the ones who bought into their lies about how THEY could do so much better, will lose.
BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
The developers are coming - and it isn't personal, just business. If you are a fan of the Godfather Trilogy, you know what that means. Me, I'm lovin' it. People get the government they deserve. And a good "I Tole you so" simply cannot be beat for pure gratification.
Monday, May 12, 2008
And then there was...
A very busy weekend. Our son and his sweet girlfriend came over - a total opposite of his ex-wife by the way - for Mother's Day. Nice.
Cleaning out the garage was exhausting Sat and Sunday. The burn pile was going steadily; burning all inconsequential files and paperwork now too. But at last I have all of that stuff put away neatly. So much trash, though. 24 years worth! Good grief! Who woulda believed one could gather so much stuff in one small area! Found two pairs of white shoes still in the box, leftover from Mother. Which is good because my current white pair is shot, split open on the toes - and they are my dress shoes!! One more thing to throw away! Imelda Marcus I ain't. Shoes is shoes. Clothes are clothes. I have skirts and dresses I wore in High school still... Wear it out, use it up, make it do - Hubby says it is the Scottish in me. I say it is just the poverty I've lived thru...
Saturday was soooo hot that traveling around in an unairconditioned truck for 4 hours was killer. I can't believe my best friend talked me into it, but he did! LOL We were both pouring sweat, smelly, and exhausted by that afternoon. TG for the storms yesterday and the cool breeze today. We took the cars in for their maintenance this AM, and I sit at home waiting for them to call and return to pick us up and take us back with the "courtesy car and driver" - actually a large orange pickup truck! LOL
Not looking forward to a 12 hour battle tomorrow. I do not know why people have to be so vicious and spiteful in their lives, trying to intimidate anyone who doesn't agree with them; too bad it takes someone twice as vicious to sit next to them and deal with them. The one sitting next to them of course has to be me. Sigh. I wouldn't mind if they were at least intelligent and could hold an intelligent conversation, but that isn't going to happen. Loud, pushy and raucous fools are the bane of my existence. Ron White is right - you can't fix stupid.
Got an email from one of my dearest friends last night and had to answer right away. Poor guy, he is toughing out so much right now. When someone you love is sick and being mistreated or poorly treated by their caregivers, and you have to be mean and vicious just to get them the care they need, it takes a lot out of you. I feel for him. He's been doing it for six months now...
This week is gonna be tough to get thru. Not the least of which has been, for the past three months, watching one of my best friends trust the wrong people, and not being able to do a damned thing about it. Sigh. Oh, well - soon to be over, and behind me. That's all I'm clinging to now. Depressed and impatient and anxious and tired... soo tired.
I may just sleep all day Wednesday...
Cleaning out the garage was exhausting Sat and Sunday. The burn pile was going steadily; burning all inconsequential files and paperwork now too. But at last I have all of that stuff put away neatly. So much trash, though. 24 years worth! Good grief! Who woulda believed one could gather so much stuff in one small area! Found two pairs of white shoes still in the box, leftover from Mother. Which is good because my current white pair is shot, split open on the toes - and they are my dress shoes!! One more thing to throw away! Imelda Marcus I ain't. Shoes is shoes. Clothes are clothes. I have skirts and dresses I wore in High school still... Wear it out, use it up, make it do - Hubby says it is the Scottish in me. I say it is just the poverty I've lived thru...
Saturday was soooo hot that traveling around in an unairconditioned truck for 4 hours was killer. I can't believe my best friend talked me into it, but he did! LOL We were both pouring sweat, smelly, and exhausted by that afternoon. TG for the storms yesterday and the cool breeze today. We took the cars in for their maintenance this AM, and I sit at home waiting for them to call and return to pick us up and take us back with the "courtesy car and driver" - actually a large orange pickup truck! LOL
Not looking forward to a 12 hour battle tomorrow. I do not know why people have to be so vicious and spiteful in their lives, trying to intimidate anyone who doesn't agree with them; too bad it takes someone twice as vicious to sit next to them and deal with them. The one sitting next to them of course has to be me. Sigh. I wouldn't mind if they were at least intelligent and could hold an intelligent conversation, but that isn't going to happen. Loud, pushy and raucous fools are the bane of my existence. Ron White is right - you can't fix stupid.
Got an email from one of my dearest friends last night and had to answer right away. Poor guy, he is toughing out so much right now. When someone you love is sick and being mistreated or poorly treated by their caregivers, and you have to be mean and vicious just to get them the care they need, it takes a lot out of you. I feel for him. He's been doing it for six months now...
This week is gonna be tough to get thru. Not the least of which has been, for the past three months, watching one of my best friends trust the wrong people, and not being able to do a damned thing about it. Sigh. Oh, well - soon to be over, and behind me. That's all I'm clinging to now. Depressed and impatient and anxious and tired... soo tired.
I may just sleep all day Wednesday...
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Breathless Giggly Incompetence
My husband is on daily medication. This medication is one of those intensive pain killers, timed-release, and highly addictive. They gradually eased him up to the maximum dosage allowable, and have kept him there for over a year. The problem with this medication is that they will not prescribe it for longer than 30 days at a time. The prescription even if written a week ahead of time cannot be filled until a certain day of the month. If that day falls on a Sunday, well, too bad - unless the pharmacy is open on Sunday. Mind you too that the prescription is over $200.00, but is supposed to - supposed to! - be paid for by Worker's Comp. So you can't keep switching pharmacies. So Hubby has it filled at Wal Mart, because it is convenient, they are open every day, and he figured that they would have better access to a prescription that was filled every month at their store.
To make it worse, the doc is so protective of her license that she will not write the prescription for this month's medication until last month's has run out. Which means that hubby had to take his last pill on Sunday, then call the doctor's office Monday morning. Well, guess what? By Tuesday morning she still had not written the prescription. By Tuesday afternoon she still hadn't. Finally, she writes it Wednesday AM.
So hubby - in pain from both his permanent injuries and the beginnings of withdrawal symptoms - drives over to pick up the prescription (they won't call it in, either) and takes it to Wal Mart. Well, Wal Mart won't have another shipment in until Friday - maybe. (giggle giggle from the clerk) So hubby comes home. By the time I get home he is in screaming agony, pouring sweat, and shivering under a blanket. I start calling other pharmacies.
Finally I find one that has the meds. So I call Wal Mart and tell them that he cannot wait til Friday, and I am coming to pick up the prescription. I get there, they hand it to me, and off I go to CVS. Except - CVS can't fill it - it is the wrong prescription. Back I go to Wal Mart.
Well, they lost the prescription. Giggle giggle. Wasn't it funny? By this time I am livid. Hubby cannot move at the house, and these shiftless lazy incompetent morons think this whole little game they are playing is FUNNY. I lose it. Finally they call another woman over who finds the prescription for the mean and nasty bitch who is getting louder and more demanding by the minute, and give it to me. Gee, they had filed it in the filled prescriptions box. Hee hee. Whoops. Back I go to CVS, get the prescription filled, pay $200 (thank god I HAD it to pay) and go home. Total time - 2 and a half hours on the road. Hubby gets his meds and within an hour sinks into blissful oblivion - for the most part. Of course it takes a few hours for the chest pains to subside.
And people wonder why I hate Wal Mart.
To make it worse, the doc is so protective of her license that she will not write the prescription for this month's medication until last month's has run out. Which means that hubby had to take his last pill on Sunday, then call the doctor's office Monday morning. Well, guess what? By Tuesday morning she still had not written the prescription. By Tuesday afternoon she still hadn't. Finally, she writes it Wednesday AM.
So hubby - in pain from both his permanent injuries and the beginnings of withdrawal symptoms - drives over to pick up the prescription (they won't call it in, either) and takes it to Wal Mart. Well, Wal Mart won't have another shipment in until Friday - maybe. (giggle giggle from the clerk) So hubby comes home. By the time I get home he is in screaming agony, pouring sweat, and shivering under a blanket. I start calling other pharmacies.
Finally I find one that has the meds. So I call Wal Mart and tell them that he cannot wait til Friday, and I am coming to pick up the prescription. I get there, they hand it to me, and off I go to CVS. Except - CVS can't fill it - it is the wrong prescription. Back I go to Wal Mart.
Well, they lost the prescription. Giggle giggle. Wasn't it funny? By this time I am livid. Hubby cannot move at the house, and these shiftless lazy incompetent morons think this whole little game they are playing is FUNNY. I lose it. Finally they call another woman over who finds the prescription for the mean and nasty bitch who is getting louder and more demanding by the minute, and give it to me. Gee, they had filed it in the filled prescriptions box. Hee hee. Whoops. Back I go to CVS, get the prescription filled, pay $200 (thank god I HAD it to pay) and go home. Total time - 2 and a half hours on the road. Hubby gets his meds and within an hour sinks into blissful oblivion - for the most part. Of course it takes a few hours for the chest pains to subside.
And people wonder why I hate Wal Mart.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Yup, I'm fat
Deal with it.
Actually, you don't have to deal with it. I do.
You didn't have to deal with the medications for the disease that kept me from feeling hungry, or made me vomit when I ate, or worse...
You didn't have to deal with the massive surgery that cut me in two and removed a lot of one internal organ; the surgery that cut and scarred every single muscle in my belly, that if I turn wrong sends me into a sudden seizure of pain that makes it impossible for me to even scream. They don't give physical therapy for belly surgery. You should see the muscles when they seize, too; pretty amazing. They don't go criss cross; some actually go up and down, and one takes a 90-degree turn when I do situps.
I'm HAPPY I can eat now. Happy, happy, happy. Food tastes soo good when you've lived on crackers and tea and coffee for several years. Lord, yes, pass the butter for that big baked potato - and the cheese and the bacon and the broccoli can go on top too. Lovely.
Yes, yes, I know it's all bad for me. No I do not care. No, I'm not going to get much fatter; I've been trying to exercise and slowly build up the ripped and shredded and scarred muscles. It hurts but I'll get there.
Do I care about your snide comments? No. You are an idiot, with an overblown idea of perfection. To me, perfection is being able to eat at last without spending six hours on the toilet later. Perfection is not being rushed to the ER again for a massive internal infection, because I had no immune system, because I could not even eat or take in vitamins.
But, but, but - you didn't know all that? Well, of course you didn't. You damned fool, neither my fat nor my disease is any of your business - and obviously didn't concern you at any point in time. I'll never be svelte, but at least I won't starve to death.
Actually, you don't have to deal with it. I do.
You didn't have to deal with the medications for the disease that kept me from feeling hungry, or made me vomit when I ate, or worse...
You didn't have to deal with the massive surgery that cut me in two and removed a lot of one internal organ; the surgery that cut and scarred every single muscle in my belly, that if I turn wrong sends me into a sudden seizure of pain that makes it impossible for me to even scream. They don't give physical therapy for belly surgery. You should see the muscles when they seize, too; pretty amazing. They don't go criss cross; some actually go up and down, and one takes a 90-degree turn when I do situps.
I'm HAPPY I can eat now. Happy, happy, happy. Food tastes soo good when you've lived on crackers and tea and coffee for several years. Lord, yes, pass the butter for that big baked potato - and the cheese and the bacon and the broccoli can go on top too. Lovely.
Yes, yes, I know it's all bad for me. No I do not care. No, I'm not going to get much fatter; I've been trying to exercise and slowly build up the ripped and shredded and scarred muscles. It hurts but I'll get there.
Do I care about your snide comments? No. You are an idiot, with an overblown idea of perfection. To me, perfection is being able to eat at last without spending six hours on the toilet later. Perfection is not being rushed to the ER again for a massive internal infection, because I had no immune system, because I could not even eat or take in vitamins.
But, but, but - you didn't know all that? Well, of course you didn't. You damned fool, neither my fat nor my disease is any of your business - and obviously didn't concern you at any point in time. I'll never be svelte, but at least I won't starve to death.
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