To Blog or Not to Blog

There I am driving along 95, which for some reason people seem to mix up the route number with the speed limit, and pass a sign asking the public to donate their cars to the School for the Blind. Now that's a scarey thought. I'm picturing all of these cxars with white canes attached to the fronts. Sort of like bumper cars but for real.
Then there are the sign one finds stapled to telephone poles. One sign, for signs, 100 for whatever amount of money actually had words in the sign misspelled. Now I am not the greatest speller in the world but if I were a sign maker I'd get me a dictionary and fast. Or even spell check on the computer.
My favorite telephone sign of all times was bright yellow and read in big bold letters "Lose 50 pounds of ugly fat...free samples" Thank you, no, I have all the ugly fat one could want.
I haven't even started on the wandering apostrophe signs. Suddenly every time someone wants to make something plural they add and apostrophe s. For instance "Frisky's puppie's". There's a sign on a High's convenience store that reads "No Minors (notice minors is not only spelled correctly but there is no apostrophe but wait) allowed in store without their parent's" AAAAHHHHH Their parent's what? Wallet? Blood type? Punctuation. I am so tempted to type up a correct sign on my computer but if I started with that I'd be going on and on forever.
But the all time what the heck is this sign are the billboards in and around Baltimore that read "Believe". That's it. nothing more. Just 'Believe". I'm not going to even try and figure out that one.
Sigh.

Thinking

I have a husband that does not know how to think quietly. The thoughts that wander through his head has to be spoken aloud. For instance he walks in the door tonight to say "I will not have that dog jump all over me." Then he segues into "I'll take the garbage out when he comes in the house" "I need to buy paper plates" "the dishes are done'. All in the space of less than five minutes.
He does this all the time. Even goes as far as to tell me he's going downstairs or is going to watch tv. I'm surprised he doesn't give me a blow by blow description of each inhale and exhale. The man definitely loves the sound of his voice. I only wish it was something interesting. I find that I'm starting to tune him out and wonder what would happen if he tells me something important and I don't hear it. Something more important than 'this sock is tight' and 'whose is this. The last said when he's in another room and I couldn't possibly see what he was referring to.
I sound ungrateful I know. After all this is the man who held me as I vomited copiously all over everything when I had a case of the rampant wobbles. I guess I just feel it isn't fair that I have to hear all the crap floating through his head while I have to tell him things three or four times before he hears me.
Older son asked me the other day how we would ever tell when the old fart loses it. Older son wonders if his father would then start making sense. AS for me, I rarely make any sense and am proud of it.

Christmas evening

Older son is at a Raven's (football) game. Younger son came and went while The Husband has already gone to bed for the night at 8pm. Here I sit, playing carols and remembering past Christmases when the boys were little. We used to have so much fun with the cheapest toys; silly string and tops and those plastic guns that shoot plastic discs, silly putty and what we called pirate gold coin candies but which turn out to be Haunukaah gelt. They had to wait until at least 6:30 am before they got us up. Even young, they could tell time and I have no doubt they sat up all Christmas eve night into the wee hours of Christmas day just waiting for it to be Christmas day. People said that we spoiled them on Christmas but that was really when they got their only new toys. Even before they were old enough for elementary school they got an allowance and had to save for whatever it was they wanted. They never seemed to mind. Or, if they did, they never said it to me.
Younger son told me today that we always give him one gift that baffles him. This year it was a rug. A middle sized scatter rug all nice and fluffy. Now older son installs carpet but this was different. I figured younger son could put it in his bathroom or beside his bed or beneath his feet as he spends endless hours at his computer. Besides it was better than the bottle of Beano I bought him a couple of years ago. I keep threatening to buy them the Mall MAdness game and Tropical Barbie for Christmas. I swear if I ever find either really cheap the sons will actually get them for Christmas.
As for the gifts they give us. People never seem to understand this. We rarely get a gift as a hold in your hand kind of gift. Two years ago I did get a new mattress for the big bed but that's an exception. I get gifts that I can never loose. OLder son trudging a mile to the store to buy me some little something with the remnants of his allowance. Younger son rushing home Christmas day from hanging out with friends and showing off Christmas gifts, to stand on the proch with me to listen to Christmas bells. The laughter of both boys as they tease me throughout the year. The hundred little kindnesses I get. It's just a feeling I get from them that keeps me warm through the year. I feeling I tend to forget when things get tough but then, wouldn;t you know it on eof them says something or does something and I fall in love with them all over again. Older son is now 25 and yet I swear I can still feel his newborn weight in my arms and that baby smell in my nose. I still wake at 3 am the time younger son woke each and every night until he was three. 20 years later I'm still awake and ready for that cry despite the meds I take to sleep.
Someone once was appalled that I was willing to give up 18 years of my life raising kids, putting them first. Give up? I've gained far more from them than I ever gave. They are the best things I've done in my life, even if one is sloppy and the other a smart ass. Hey wait. Suddenly I see too much of me in that last sentence. Maybe they do take after their mother, after all. Who woulda thought?

I'm back!!!

I finally have the return of internet at home and now I can blog. I tried blogging from the business computer in the husband's office but it refused to cooperate. So here I am full of chatter and ready to go on and on. Hey it beats wrapping presents.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Christmas this year. Last year we had none and it looked like there would be a repeat this year only through the husband's magic and determination did we finally get some fund yesterday and in 3 hours we had 90% of our shopping done and it took about that same time today, if you count the time for lunch, to have it all done. Older son even wrapped the presents for me, the husband and his brother while we were gone. Now we have his to wrap and those presents that are a duplicate of his brother's. Each year I swear I will never do that and yet I always do. There are always things that I want the both of them to have. We spent way too much money but I figure it makes up for last year. Even better, younger son now has all his back pay and can relax as well.
MY sons.... was there ever a mother luckier than I?
Older son is my rock. Not only did he offer to pay for Christmas dinner but had offered me his entire pay check so I could go Christmas shopping and not be as depressed as I was. He's marinating the steaks for tomorrow's dinner and will be grilling them as well. He's always helping me with big dinners. We're able to work without talking. He always seems to know just what I need and when.
Younger son is a hoot. A dear sweet loveable hoot. He's always so able to make me laugh but the other day he made me cry. He had no money...hadn't been paid by his dad in weeks and yet he kept working. He has no car, his threw something out of the engine and no way to get to a job outside of the house, even if he had one. And yet, younger son put his arms around me, told me not to worry that we wouldn't lose the house that, if he had to, he would move back into the house, get a job, give me all the money from his job and help us keep the house.
What did I ever do to deserve such sons? I am blessed.

I have Madame Hooch hair

I have got to keep my hands out of my hair. I swear I look like Madame Hooch from the Harry Potter movies. She's supposed to look like a falcon or whatever. I just look like I stuck my hand in a socket. Wouldn't so bad if I had the cool magic robes and a broom.
Speaking of magic. I think I watched too many Harry Potters this weekend. I would love to be magic. Not necessarily do magic but know that I could if I wanted. I have these dreams that repeat and repeat themselves. In these dreams I fly. JUst me. No plane no broom just be and the wild blue yonder.
There is a certain way to get off the ground in these dreams. It's the same way each and every time. It isn't as simple as Douglas Adams' advice to 'throw yourself at the ground and miss". This has a certain step a certain thought a certain movement.
Now after dreaming like this for years I finally decided to give it a shot. Yep I was gonna fly around the bathroom. Somehow I actaully half expected this to work and you cannot imagine my disappointment when my feet remained firmly on the floor. Damn this gravity stuff. Would it had hurt anything for it to let go for just a minute. So I can't fly. BUt my head can still spin and this is getting old.
Maybe I'm trying to be a tornado.

As for the rest of my life. NO settlemnt yesterday probably not till Friday and I have done NO Christmas shopping.

Rocco had the vomits last night but unlike when I was sick, I don't love him enough to lick his face clean.

Started thinking about my mother yesterday. Probably because I"m still feeling miserable and memories of her couldn't make me feel much worse. Not sorry that she's dead worse but more like 'How the hell could she DO that tp me' worse. Feeling sorry for myself I suppose. I blame it on the water here in Dizzyland.

QUick quick I need to think of something funny... a christmas memory.

Got it.

Younger son had this great dislike of the Santa Clauses at the Mall. He'd go nowhere near them so it came as a surpise one day when he insited that he wanted to visit Santa. We got in line, creeping slowly forward while I questioned him as to whether he was certain he wanted to do this. He really did. Older son was almost vibrating with his excitement even though he had seen every Santa in every mall while his brother looked on.
It's out turn. Younger son's hand tightens on mine. I hasten to reassure him that he will be ok, that Santa won't Ho Ho Ho and reach for him. That he can go to Santa on his own. Now I said it loud enough for Santa to hear. I caught Santa's eye and he nodded. I thought he understood until younger son went up to him and the idiot boomed HO HO HO and reached out for him.
I swear the hair stood up on younger son's head right before he screamed "NOOOOOOOO" kicked Santa in the shins and took off down the Mall. I ordered older son to stay with Santa and tore off after younger son. Good lord but that little booger could run. I caught him only because my legs were longer, swept him up in my arms and staggered back to Santa.
Older son's face was wet with tears, Santa looked perplexed and the Elf told me that older son had fallen into Santa's lap sobbing and begging Santa to still bring his little brother presents even though younger son kicked him.

Younger son n ever has sat on a Santa's lap. He turned 23 the beginning of the month so I think I'm safe in saying that he probably never will.

The Queen of dizzyland

Yep still dizzy, though not as badly. Close up I'm ok but trying to see at a distance knocks me cattywumpus. Of course I have my courtiers nearby: little dog Ollie who doesn't reach my knee and knucklehead Rocco whose head is the size of Ollie. Both are very concerned as I go about bouncing off walls. Rocco even hauled me half way across the yard when I fell over trying to drag him home from a neighbor's house. I can just imagine what the neighbors thought. There I am hair standing on end (I have a tendency to rake my fingers through my hair) dressed in my rag baggedyest clothes (hey if I'm gonna puke let it not be on something good) one hand clutching Rocco's collar while I'm sliding across the snow on my belly. Of course, Rocco thinks it's a game. Rocco thinks everything's a game and not only is he enjoying himself but that damned tail of his kept hitting me in the face and then, if I wasn't dizzy enough to have fallen over and embarrassed enough to find myself playing the part of the sled in my very own Iditerod the damned dog cuts one and then I can't see because of the tears in my eyes. Even worse... right before that I noticed... oh lord dare I say it... that the coloring around the dog's butthole is in the shape of a heart.
I think I need to get out of the house.

Hop aboard the Dizzyland Express but watch your step

I cannot actually believe that people spend good money, at an amusement park, to go on a ride that spins them around and around until they want to puke, then they stagger off the ride only to get back on line to do it again. They can just move into my head and have the same thing for free!
At least I'm up on my feet. At least my house is small enough that when I wobble down the hallway for the bathroom I can put my hand s onto the walls of the hall and keep myself from ricocheting off them.
But this is getting olf very quickly.
I had something similar once before. Not that bad but enough that I had to take it slowly. It was when the younger son was graduating high school. IN fact it was what they called awards night when all the grads and their poor captive parents had to go and sit through endless awards that seemed to be given to the same six kids over and over. I couldn't go and younger son didn't want to but it was mandatory... acording to the idiot of a principal. So I had the husband call the school and lie...ahem... explain to whomever that I needed someone home with me so I wouldn't fall over on the circuit around the house.
So the husband calls all sincere and truthful and tells whomever that he needed our son to stay home with his mother because she is suffering from vertical and will fall down if she so much as tries to make it into the bathroom on her own. This vertical is terrible stuff, he went on, she falls over and bounces into walls and the vertical makes her dizzy. He, the husband, has an appointment that evening otherwise he would be home with her so can the son skip the awards to be my minder beause the vertical is so bad. Oh but the man laid it on thick.
NOw incase you think this attack of the vertical monster has left me unable to spell or remember what I am suffering from, let me hasten to reassure you that the husband is the one who claimed I had VERTICAL!! NOt vertigo mind you but VERTICAL. I wonder what the whomever thought. Probably that this poor woman had more probelms than suffering from vertical. Though I suppose being vertical beats being horizontal.

And while we are on the high school story. The principal of their high school was so... so.... what's the word... oh yeah dumb that on the first day of school that year she reads the tradtional you are my prisioners for the next nine months and I will be making your life a misery speech that I'm sure someone typed up for her because she read... and I'm not making this up.
"Students, welcome to another school year. I am your principal insert your name here..." Honestly. I've heard this from more than one kid so I know it isn't just younger son making a joke. The sad part is that the dim bulb never realised what she said and just kept rambling on. What a waste of skin. So, of course, she is now known as Mrs Insert Your Name Here.

Depths of despair

This will be very depressing but I need to get it our of my system. My head is still whirling but I can't sleep any longer.
I have labrythitis which sounds like some made up condition but has to do with the part of the inner inner ear that is at the base of the skull. It's a viral inflamation of that.
I spent a whole day vomiting and wishing I was dead.
Now I just wish I was dead.
We got a dhl delivered letter from the mortgage company wanting its two back mortgage payments by the 14th. Our home equity people call daily. I think the cable is going to be shut off which means no computer. Christmas is coming and I can't even get to the shed to drag the tree and stuff in let alone WANT to bother with decorating and all that other crap.
No news from the refi guys which means NOT a good answer. I'm quessing something screwed up last minute like it always does and we are royally SCREWED!!!
Casey's car is dead and he can't think of getting another till MIchael gives him his back pay, nor can he look for a job without transport. MY car needs an exhaust system. It's drivable if you want to asphixiate yourself.
I' too dizzy to even look for a job should some one want to hire me. I want to scream and cry and just lay down and never get up again. I HATE THIS!!!!!
If I wasn't feeling so awful maybe I could think striaght and come up with a solution for this but I can't. All I can do is try to focus my eyes and fight the tears.
Whatever I did in my last life to earn this life I am heartily sorry.

Adventures in refinancing

We are trying to refinance our mortgage. I think it would be easier to sprout wings and fly than to do this. We've been told that we are approved and yet something new crops up to push things back. Now I wouldn't mind so much if we really didn't desperately need this money. I have one bill collector who keeps calling who can't seem to get it through his, or should I say their collective heads, that I don't HAVE the money to pay the bill. No matter how much he/they threaten me, I can't pull the money out of my ass and pay the bill. It makes me feel so much like poor white trash no wonder my head was spinning this morning.
I wrote about my adventure in head spinning this morning but I see that it hasn't shown up. Let's just say that it was an experience I do NOT want to repeat. I felt as if I were spinning with my eyes closed and when I opened them the room was spinning and swinging and generally making me nauseous. The sweat sprang out all over my body, too warm and clammy. My stomach clenched.... Let's just say that actually vomiting helped somewhat. The husband...aka Michael... thought I was just hungry. I did eat but still have that disconnected feeling that has gotten worse after the call from the bill collector.
I want to be amusing. I want to write lovely phrases that will stick in peole heads. I don't want to write about vomiting all over my face and discovering how much the toilet stinks when I had to hug it this morning. I want to wax poetic about my love for my sons, not whinge about how I am sick of being poor, of never having a pot to piss in and because of that feeling as if I am not deserving of anything good or pleasureable in this life.
I can't go out to eat without feeling as if I don't deserve it. I can't go to a dollar store without feeling as if I am wasting the money. I can't get my meds because my insurance lapsed and even if I did that wouldn't help the situation. Instead I moan and whine and bitch and while it usually makes me feel better tonight my head is starting to spin again. Let's hope this one makes it into my blog.

I don't want to do this again

I haven't had my muscle relaxers in nearly a week and, because of it, my sleep is not what it should be. I've had some of the strangest dreams. Last night involved martyns (the animal), caymen and a dead squirrel. The night before included a giant and my sister. It just gets weirder and weirder.
This morning however my misery was when I was awake. I woke too early but decided to lay in bed hoping to fall back asleep. It was still dark, my eyes were closed and then I started to spin. It was an unmistakable sensation as if I were on one of those play ground merry go rounds, stuck on the outer rim while some idiot just spun me and spun me. It was worse with my eyes open, because what I could see was actually spinning. I wanted to vomit. Instead I broke out in a clammy sweat. I could not get it to stop and have no idea why. If I can ignore pain why not this?
When it relented I staggered into the husband's room (long story- he snores, I can't sleep so we sleep apart). I crawled into bed with him but began to spin again. Afraid that I would vomit all ove rhim I made it into the bathroom where I huddled on the floor next to teh toilet. (have to clean it... it stinks down low) The husband got up and stood in the doorway staring at me. Made me feel even more self conscious. I sent him to bed and then the dog, Rocko showed up along with Little dog Ollie and I was licked dry.
I've been up since then. Spun only once, vomited, forced some eggs into me and am typing this mostly with my eyes closed.
This could be my fibro, or my gum abcess, or the fact that all I had to eat yesterday was a Mars bar and a burrito supreme (the Husband aka MIchael... yes he has a name) was taking care of dinner. I wouldn't have had the burrito if older son hadn't stopped at Taco Bell on his way home form a Ravens' (football) game.
I also spent a great deal of time yesterday handling a new polymer clay that has an entirely different smell from the Sculpey I'm familiar with.
I'm tired and cold and my eyes hurt but am afraid to go back to bed.
I hate vomiting and try to do it only once a decade. I hate not being in control and if I can't make the world stop spinning around me, how more out of control could I possibly get? WHTo Blog or Not to Blog