Icepacks
rain/sleet
quiet
surf
rest
crash
hope for the best
sweet dreams
it is what it is.

1) All we are saying, is give PEACE a chance.

2) I'd like yet another piece of dark chocolate,please.

3) I leave little pieces of my heart and soul all over the Stream.

4) Peace on Earth, Good Will to Man.

5)a piece of inner-peace can stay with you, even when you fall to pieces, if you just let it.

plus, I am very fond of snow-peas, but that is probably pushing it...and I would hate to have to appease myself for trying the patience of my friends.

I had some trouble with the Jack Nicholson movie, "Five Easy Pieces", but due to frequent memory lapses, I cannot specifically recall what it was about the movie that irked me so. I think it was most likely because what I do remember of it, the title refers to 5 ladies that tried Jack's inner-peace, as he attempted to get a piece of the aformentioned female action. But there was a nifty scend in a restraunt where Jack was cleverly rude to a poor, tired waitress who had lots of "no subsitute" limitations on what her menu offered in the way of chicken salad sandwiches that got a lot of publicity during the movie's hey-day...Jack is such a despicable rascal..the sleaze you love to hate.Loved him in "Easy Rider."

"Slaughter House Five" irked me, as well, and I do not remember why, as well-was that Vonneguet?He is brilliantly irksome, some of his books left my brain reeling thru the years. I'd like to re-visit these classics, but the only way is to spend buck$ & ya gotta have'em to spnd 'em, so unless it comes on a Saturday afternoon movie that I catch by accident some day, I'm over it.

Bubba asked what my plans are for the morrow...it is supposed to be cold, drizzly and cloudy, so it sounds like perfect weather for my weekly pajama party. Who knows? I might clean something! Or not. I will definitely try my best to sleep in JUST A LITTLE, but when Bubba goes to the country general store for his "Second Breakfast", and listen to the same old Breakfast Club Crowd expousing theories for saving the world, I want to be having coffee, oatmeal, whole wheat Eggos with fake butter, while rock n roll DVDs are playing far too loudly, and surfing the Stream, then running to the back porch and open the door and I take a big breath, and I get real high, and I say, "HEY!What's goin' on?"(who sings that song? she's a fun girl, too)

I LOVE HAVING A DAY OFF! I like my job,& I like driving around in my new red truck,& I love visiting fam. & friends on Sunday Rounds, but being home, home alone on a Saturday morning, awaiting for the safe return of the man I love & spending the rest of the day enjoying each other's company & spoiling the dogs, & maybe cleaning something (or not), THAT is a lil piece of Heaven on Earth.

So, it's our usual crash time,& we're gonna finish "Law & Order" on the bedroom tube & I'm not going to stay on line, as I can tend to get on Bubba's nerves when I try to stay awake late surfing. I am going to be courtin' da positive waves for the next 24 hours, and visiting as many of y'all as I can. Nuthun could make me happier. Well, nuthun I kin put into words, anyway. And I do, so love, words.

Everyday is a winding road and On Kick Back Thursays, I get a little closer to feeling fine. The pace is more relaxed, and I seem to get a lot more done without really trying. Work is a litaney of errands and gettin' it done, one foot in front of the other, and before I know it the job is complete, and there's no use hanging around trying to look busy. It was pay day for the guys at the factory, so they were all in good moods, and the vibe was friendly, easy-going, and affable, wheresoever I found myself cruising at my own mellow pace. 'Twas a pretty good day, and I'm looking forward to tomorrow...not bad work if you can pull it off. And tomorrow is my pay day(such as it is), and my golden Friday.

Had me a head-banger yesterday, but it was no big deal. Nothing I could not handle with a coupla Tylenol and a nap. I think about that girl stealing my presription pain killers...I could have accomplished something last night, or watched a movie with Bubba, or both, if I hadn't been robbed. But I was, so I didn't.

It was hard for me to get the prescription, the major migraine inferno on that Monday practically forced me to see a doc that Tuesday, cuz when you hurt that bad for that long, ya' just can't help but think, ya' gotta be dealing with some drain bamage going on somewhere... that's an $82 Dr. visit, 60 miles minimum round trip, with gas @$2.40something a gallon, and $130 and change for the pills. Yet, I feel more sorry for her, than I do for myself. That little girl must have a lot of heavy things coming down on her to pull an act like this. I have never done anything but favors, for this youngster, gone out of my way, kept her secrets, given her advice she never, ever heeded when she asked for my advice, and no "I told you so's" when it rained on her dramatic parades; just as I had predicted it would. I was so good to her...she must be some messed up individual to ascertain no one was at the house beforehand, premeditate & plot to enter my home and search for whatever caught her eye, with my friendly guard dogs following her through the doggy door & throughout the house, watching her in my bathroom. I hope that she was scared and nervous, wondering "What am I doing here? What is wrong with me?" I don't really know what she felt or thought, but I cannot help but wonder. Finding the pills, not knowing what they were, & calling me to ask me what they were, & making up such a flimsy BS story when I asked why she asked. I'll bet she called me while standing in my bathroom, reading the label.

I called her the minute I missed them. Her stomach must've been killing her. When I called her to freak out & say "OMG! Who could have done this? These cannot be replaced!" she was so sure the doc would just scribble off another script..."No, he won't. They never give you more than the limit once a month and after you get it filled, it is your responsiblity"... to make sure that your friends are not low-life people users who would steal them from you...

My sis says I hang with the wrong crowd. What crowd? Where hang out? I go to work, I come home, stay home for as long as possible, and visit 1 friend beore 4 family visits on Sundays, then return home. I worked with this child, we were assigned to work together, and I did my best to make it a pleasurable work experience. I hadn't heard from her in almost 3 months before that Wednesday, when she called me 3 times in one day, and I never did end up seeing her...as she saw her chance to do something reckless and wrong, first. I know that she did it, and, then got out of Dodge. She had been laid off for a week from her fast food chain. as her cash drawer was missing money(go figure). She was driving around town, bored, resentful,hormones raging, trapped in a loveless marriage, and as always, in such intense drama. It hurts my heart to know that she had her 3-yr. old daughter buckled into her child seat in the back of the car, and Baby Autumn just stayed there the whole time that her drama-filled Mama dug herself in deeper. Poor little Momma. The only child of a Bible Thumping, Holy Rollin' older couple who were surprised that hey could concieve so late in life, and tried too hard to keep their rebellious daughter from falling from grace. She was kicked out of her private religious high school when she got pregnant. She married her high school sweetheart, and got her GED. She is not happy...perhaps she never has been happy...and stealing from me, was just one more thing that she can add to her list of why she hates herself so much. I hope that she is not a sociopath, but she could be. I'd like to feel she feels bad about her deeds, as I know of a few, and suspect many more... I perfer to think that she has caught herself up in a downward spiraling roller-coaster, and it just keeps getting crazier every day, and she just keeps making wrong choice after wrong choice, and darlin', she can have the pills ,& the bad karma that will come of stealing them. When I missed them, when I called her in a panic, she was sick, upset stomach, headache, the baby on her last nerve... It's not rocket surgery to figure that she sampled the stolen goods, and they made her sick... as she is just 22 yrs. old, and she does have ulcers. She didn't steal them to eat them, I'm pretty sure of that, but I have no doubt she will sell them.
That is more than enough venting... much more than enough.

The important thing is Bubba(AKA Larry) is doing well. Vital signs within normal limits, pretty constantly, and thats a good thing. He is back to working 1/2 days @ the salvage yard, coming home, packing the dogs up, going to the nearby Wildlife Refuge, walking off the trails, the dogs off the leashes, exploring the woods. His Tuesday appointment with the cardiac specialist was cancelled when it sleeted & snowed so badly on the first day of Spring in our area. They made the make-up appt. for next Tuesaday, when the lady specialist Doc drives down from Indianapolis. Billboard are everwhere around this town, bragging about the excellent cardiac care now available at this local hospital's cardiology department, but, as we are in Nowhere, Indiana...where to Bubba & I, it seems eveident that this excellent care is available on Tuesdays only. I can roll with it, as long as he feels good. I can internalize stress as well as the next guy.

Bubba's Mom has used up all the minutes on Bubba's cell plan. She has used more minutes in the last two months than he used in the entire year before. And she dosen't remember any of it. When he told her he was out of minutes last nite, when he had taken her the weekly paper as he does every Wednesday, she told him that she hardly ever calls him, only in emergencies, and he had better be getting himself some more minutes, for the next time she has an emergency. Which he will buy Friday, when he takes her to Wally World (he says we need to rename Wally World as "China Town", as it ia the closest thing to a China Town this lil 'berg will ever know...all the items being made in China, he figures) and their weekly McDonald's fish sandwhich, every single Friday. He is so good to her. And she is so gone. And like my brother Billy says, he just holds it all in, and keeps on doing it, and will continue to always do it because it is just the type of country boy he is.

I have bugged him about his BP for years, and it took a couple of episodes for him to crawl out of his denial and deal with it, and I am so glad that he is trying. But I know, in my heart, that there will have to be some dramatic episode again, before something is done about his mom dealing with activities of daily living under the influence of profound dementia. I pray for a smooth trasistion, but, it seems,I alone, seem to know that the trasition must come, and soon. He needs to get himself documented, as executor, the oldest boy , in charge.

He picked up the majority of the tab, burying his father...2 brothers made 1/6 of the bill,each, the other 3 said and offerred nothing, and Larry payed the rest...as they all knew he would. It was touching...Larry's boys tried to help Larry out with monetary contributions, but he wouldn't let them...not the Grandkids, not when they have kids of their own. I payed a thousand bucks...but,I would have never had it to give, if Bubba hadn't given so much to me over the years. He's a keeper.

I just sometimes have a hard time wrapping my head around all I have been through, how I ended right back where I started from. And I've gotten so much older! and not neccesarily wiser. And how, if you look at my life one way, I'm a sad-sack loser, and if you look at it the right way, I am one of the richest, happiest people you are ever going to run across. I look at who I was married to, owned by, miserable with, and thought I was living the dream when all along I was caught up my own nightmare, in my own downhill roller coaster, making wrong choice after wrong choice...All the live music that I've chased around up and down the coast of California, and, now the DVDs, the Stream, the dogs that I treasure in the comfort and privacy of my own home. I have a home. That this guy who never heard of the Grateful Dead built for me with his own two hands. I spend years of my life chasing the music and end up with a guy who dosen't even hear the music in the music. But he calls me "dear", he has the wit and wisdom worthy of all of my spare time. When I'm not on the Stream, of course. And the Stream! Just a year ago, an old friend called me & teased me for not having a cell-phone or a computer. And now, I have both. I still have migraines, and people still take advantage of my good nature(AKA stupidity), but it isn't the big drama it used to be. It's easier to shrug off the drama and enjoy my life as it continues down tit's winding road. Paid a lot of dues, got a lot of dues due to come around again.

And sometimes, when I am thinking, or telling a story, ot blogging, I do get carried away.

I showed Bubba some of the notes, prayers & good wishes going out to him from the Stream...he blushed & touseled my hair,

"They don't know me. They don't really care about me..."

"Wrong!" I gloated, "You just don't get it. We are a community unto ourselves, and there is real love out there, going on between all of us, and real concern for your well-being..."

He put his forehead to mine, what we call our mind-meld. and his blush deepened. He gets uncomfortable when I get all cosmic, and flowery, and touchy-feely. He likes it, but he dosen't understand.

He was country, before country was cool, & like my friend, Petey, a man of action and few words. His blood pressure & pulse have all been pretty normal today, but he is having trouble adjusting to his BP pills and mild tranquilizer pills. He is weary, easily drained of any semblence of energy, and still dizzy off & on throughout the day...he took the day off, tried to rest or sleep , but his Mom has called @ least 15 times all through out the day, always forgetting that she just called him, often forgetting why she called him, and never, ever making sense, and in her confusion often hangs up on him. Bubba is internalizing a lot of stress, the only boy out of her six that tries to deal with his Mom at all. And it is pushing his limits. The nursing home is the next step, they are both (all) in denial, but it is inevitable.

We gotta crash now. Lights out. Thanks, kids...I love you, too

Bubba's heart started skipping beats as he slept, Sunday night into Monday's early morning. He was aware, dizzy, uncomfortable,& maybe even sleepily concerned. He was restless in the night, as he had been all day Sunday, trying to take it easy, but compulsively obsessed with the need to do something, to be accomplishing anything, as was his way. He arose around 4:45 Am, and went into the living room to try to sit up uncomfortably in the uncomfortable pea-soup green reclinying hand-me-down loungr, drowsing through the tail-end of the informercials into the early-bird local area news showsly.He was weak, and increasinsing profoundly ehausted, every movement requiring all of his strength and effort. He wearily walked back to the kitchen, sat, and took his blood pressure...186/102. He decided to let Cher keep sleeping. He's tell her that he was somewhat concerned after she awoke.

He let her sleep 25 minutes after they both would have been normally, naturally trying to kid each other into getting up and getting going. As she walked quickly down the hall and into the kitchen to start her oatmeal and coffee preparations

"Wow" She smiled at him, smoothing her bed head hair with her hands, "We overslept!"

"Speak for yourself," He smiled back,"I got up around 4:30"

"Oh Honey, don't BS me. You haven't been up since 4:30...Why would you get up at 4:30?"

"I'm not BSing you, I have been up since 4:30. My heart is skipping a bunch of beats, and I'm not feelin too good. My blood pressure is kind of high," he told her what it was andthen sat, and watched as she started pacing in circles.

"This is not good, this is not good. What's your doctor's number? You don't have it? Do you know how to spell his name? Even if we can't reach him @ 6:30 AM, somebody should be on call somewhere. You need professional medical care, Larry. I'm not kidding you, we have to do something about this Now. Let me take you to the ER..."

"You'll be late for work. I'm going to be fine. You're overeacting. You get carried away."

"I am not getting carried away, your blood pressure is dangerously high and you need professional medical care."

"I ain't going to no ER, I'll go see my doctor when his office opens," he stood, and took a few steps forward meaning to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. But the act of standing brought back the dizziness, and the next thing he knew, he was grasping at her shoulder for support, and he leaned onto her, trying to regain his balance, he murmered "At least I don't think I'm going to no ER," he added softly, reconsidering. "Better take my pressure again..."

192/110 and a pulse of 94, and sat bemused, as Cher resumed her frantic pacing. She called the ER...they weren't allowed to give any advice on the phone, if he felt he needed to go to the ER, theyd's be happy to see him. She called his doctor. What kind of a doctor didn't even have an answering machine, an answering sevice, anything that could give advice before business hours got going? Even their vet had an answering service, she recalled bitterly. She called her adopted big brother in South Carolina...he's a Physician's Assitant...almost a doctor...Larry would liten to Billy if Billy told hm to get to an ER, she thought.Billy's phone rang and rang for off in the Carolinas, Cher missing the words of comfort or concern by Billy's voice mail, and Cher's reality spun. He won't go to the ER, she couldn't make him. He might mosey on over the doc's office if he still felt bad in an hour,but He'd keep her posted.

She went to work, beside her self with worry. Anything that could go wrong, did go wrong, and everything took forever to complete. By 11 AM, she could wait no longer for a update from him and she called knowing he hated getting cell phone calls, and because she could no longer function without this cell phone call.

He answered that he was at home. Had been to the doc, and the pharmacy and back again. She made no excuses...close enough...she thought,they can fire me, I ain't leaving him there by himself. I'm going home to be with him. She threw odds and ends to be dealt with tomorrow in a corner, and almost ran to her truck which she drove too fast, and still took forever to make the drive home. The dogs came running to greet her, but Larry wasn't with them. Moving with a purpose, she strode down the hall to the bedroom. He was there, in bed, breathing softly, barely awake. He hardly ever lay down in the day time, she thought,her heart twisting in agony, as he moved an arm.

I know he's OK, and it's just me freaking out, she thought watching him start to drowse back to sleep, but this is so precious. He is after all, a human being with flaws and vunerability, just as she was. His strength, though, had been a constant throughout their relationship. She had become so dependant on him, he was such an intregal part of her life...of her being.

When people ask me how I'm doin', I either tell them that I am rolling with the punches, as I did today, all day, she mused, or if I am having an exceptionately wonderful day it is always because of my Bubba, and I always answer them, "My life is good." I even say it in Spanish to the Hispanic factory workers, "Me vida es buena," and it always cracks the kids up . If I loose him, she thought, me vida will never be buena again. Flashes of a future without this quiet, kind, gentle, country boy blasted through her brain in nauseatingly overly bright technicolor. His idea of a good time is taking care of me, protecting me, accepting me for who I am, she reflected, even though he is the first to admit that whoever I am, he just dosen't get it. But he doea like to have me around, maybe just to see what goes crazy in my life next...and to see if he can help.

Her heand went to her mouth and she choked back a sob with a funny squeaking noise, getting his attention, slowly wakening him more. He was painfully slow-moving, obviously exhausted, and just as obviously fighting for stamina. Her eyes teared over.

" Are you OK?'" she asked, knowing darn well that the answer would be "Fine," as indeed, it was." Please honey, don't get up. Let me cuddle up next to you for just a minute. He held her gently drifing in and out of his drowse. She fought back the tears in her eyes, made marked efforts to breathe slowly, deeply, calmly and tried to relax her tense body. She closed her eyes.

I will remeber this moment and treasure it forever, she thought, because you never know when or how it will all too soon come to an end. They just might have this night together, but there are no garauntees.