Thursday, March 31, 2011

Good Things Must Come To An End

Today was my last day of Creative writing class. The last three weeks went by like a whirlwind. I learned and built my writing confidence a little tad higher. Here's my last assignment I wrote and my professor's comments. It is a true story with a little bit fiction thrown in. The comments are in parenthesis() for that particular part.

 On this humid Louisiana Sunday afternoon, I am riding my bike up and down the street. I love riding my bike. I get everywhere I want to go faster and I can actually keep up with the other kids. My cousin arrives and we glide down the hill and pump back up. We are racing on the street and ride through puddles in the salt mine parking lot. I practically live on my bike.

My cousin, Shane is my buddy although I am three years older. I love to be with him because he includes me in everything. We have a good time laughing and goofing off. I can count on him to defend me when a kid decides to be mean to me and he knows I do the same for him.

We are riding down the hill. When we reach the bottom we see the train and start to race it screaming and flailing our arms for the conductor's attention Finally, the conductor waves at us and motions with his hand for us to stop. We stop and he throws wrapped bubble gum, peanut butter bars and Sweet tarts. We rush and pick them all up and we wave at the man and yell, “Thanks.” He salutes and puts the train forward and moves on. We watch the train cars go by and count them after guessing how many they will be. Shane wins with 20 being closer to my 15. There are actually 23. We divide the candy evenly, put them in our pockets and get back on our bikes.                    (Great Detail)

We ride up the hill laughing and talking about nothing. As we get to the top of the hill, wiping our sweat onto our sleeves we hear my dad's whistle. His whistle is one of those shrilled types. It certainly grabs our attention. When we turn we see my mom at the end of our family's yard with a can of Dr. Pepper and 2 plastic cups. We press our brakes and slide as we get to my mom. She serves each of us a cup of Dr. Pepper. “Thanks Mom” I say. “Thanks Nanny,” Shane adds.

We ride off for at least the hundredth time today with the cups in our hands. After a short distance, Shane comments, “I can't drink and ride. Let's take a break.”

I sigh and think “Wuss.” But the thought occurs to me that it is easier for myself because I don't have to balance as I have training wheels.

So we jump off our bikes and sit in our neighbor's yard. We live on a 3 mile salt dome named Avery Island. It's a combination of tourist attraction with the Tabasco Factory, Jungle Gardens and the International Salt Mine as well as residential homes.. It is like a secluded village with our own post office, grocery store and elementary school. Every parent looks after each others kids. We are allowed to go in anyone's yard whether they are home or not. We are safe.     (Setting! The good old days!)

 

The families who live on the island and the nonresidents who are allowed on the island to work know there are kids riding bikes and playing in the road. I see them come up slowly looking out for us. I hurriedly get to the grass when I hear a car rumbling ascending the hill. Sometimes I do not pay attention and forget. However, when I forget I never get hit because they patiently wait until I am out of the way. . I in turn wait when I hear the whistle at the end of the day for the workers. I park my bike on the side of wherever I may be and watch and wave as the workers drive off to their own families. They all wave back smiling. Some even shout out the window, “Hello!.” or “Be Good!” I seemed to be the one they know the best because they seem to go a lot slower and yell, “Hey Little Kermit” or “Hey Little George” because they know who my father is. I suspect my father has warned them that I am this daughter on the bike with training wheels

There are also visitors driving through and we love to count how many countries and states they are from. We wave at them too. Sometimes we follow their cars around until they turn around and and go back down hill, We take note of what kind of car they have and where they are from by the license plate. Some even stop and talk to us. It is awesome to hear their different accents.

We are resting with our bikes on the side of us sipping our Dr. Peppers. Shane has a black souped up Motor cross bike. My bike is a hand-me-down blue Schwinn girls bike from my sister because my parents have recently graduated me from my big red tricycle. They think 13 years old is too old for a tricycle no matter how big it is. They have been told because of my Cerebral Palsy I don't have the balance to ride a bike without training wheels.

When our cups are empty, Shane runs and gets the can. As we refill our cups, we gossip, tell jokes and goof around. I pick through the clovers looking for the lucky four leaf clover.

Suddenly, Shane asks, “Why haven't you tried riding a bike with no training wheels?”

I laugh, “Because I will fall.”

He counters, “Why? You play football and baseball with us fall sometimes too but you get
up.

“Well, gee! Shane! Everyone make exceptions for me. You give new rules when I play.”

He knows I am right as he nods deep in thought. I wonder what is with him today.

Suddenly, he grabs my arm and he looks at me with conviction, “Let me help you ride a two-wheel bike!”

I jerk from his grasp and adamantly say, “No! I can't.!”

Shane challenges, “Your mom says can't is not in your vocabulary.”

I shrug.

He implores, “Come on!. Get on the bike. I'll hold the back of it and run while you pedal.”

I try to come up with another excuse but none come. I sigh deeply feeling defeated

We go back and forth with him trying to convince me. I flood him with questions and excuses, “Okay, but how do l get on without training wheels? I can't put my leg over the back like you do! I know I'll fall. When I stop I can't touch the ground so how am I going to hold myself up? You don't understand. How do I get coordination with my cerebral palsy?

He ponders for a second and pleads, “Trust me, Lisa.” I sigh and say “Shane! Don't get your hopes up. Okay? He nods feverishly, “I promise I won't. Just try.”

He helps me up to my feet. We each kick a training wheel up off the ground.

I am feeling anxious and apprehensive. I am scared. What if I fail? I will disappoint my best cousin who believes in me.

He is holding the bike. The bike looks like a big blue monster on two wheels. I walk to the right side of it. As instructed, I hold onto the handlebars. I lift my right spastic leg with my hand and lay it on the bars. Letting go I then slide my leg to the other side. I am standing up with the bars between my legs. I am feel Shane holding tightly to the back bar of the bike keeping it steady.

He coaxes with a near whisper, “Come on. You can do it,” like if he said it aloud he would jinx us.

I squeeze the handlebars, put my feet on the pedals and push my rear onto the seat.

With a sigh of relief Shane exclaims, “Yes! You can do this!”

After a few moments of silence he questions if I am ready. I am terrified but I nod my head. He starts slowly pushing me and I start pedaling. We go five feet., I feel him let go, the bike turns sharply to the right and I fall on the hot hard asphalt.

He runs to me concern and asks, “Are you okay?.” When we find no major injuries he excitedly announces that I was doing it. I am not convinced. I am not sure how long I will let this go on until I tell him it is no use. However, in order not to let him down I smile and grudgingly get up and get back on the bike. He instructs to keep the handlebars straight and don't worry. He reassures he will help me accomplish this.

Instead of him pushing, he suggest to start pedaling and he'll just hold me up. I think that is a better plan. So I push off clumsily with one foot and I am pedaling. I make sure the handlebars are straight. Shane is yelling, “There you go! Keep on! I am still holding you! Don't panic! I got you!” He is running along as I pedal, confidence is building and I start to laugh and have fun. He suddenly lets go and I keep going another 15 feet then I don't know what happens. The bike tumbles and I am tangled in the bike.

He comes running, shouting, and jumping excited, Helping me getting untangled, he is blabbing. “Yes! You are getting it! I told you! Come on! Let's do it again!”

I am getting excited. The impossible may be possible! I get on the bike like the last two times. We repeat. I start pedaling with him holding the back bar. I don't know when he lets go but before I know it I am half down the road and I realize, “I'm riding a bike! Heck yea!

I look back and Shane is running to catch up with me. His shouts of excitement echo as loud as the sound of the blasting salt below. .We are both laughing. I finally fall landing in my yard. but not due to lack of coordination or steering. I fall because I am so happy I can't contain myself. I get up as Shane reaches me and we hug jumping up and down. “We did it!”.

He grabs my hand and we run to my house.We stomp onto the porch of my old white two bedroom house like a herd of angry galloping horses. We are so excited we're babbling. I'm near crying of pure happiness.My mom and dad can't understand. They think one of us is hurt. But I'm flailing my hands in the air trying to calm down to tell them. Shane finally catches his breath and tells them that I know how to ride a bike. They congratulate us, laugh and smile. My dad comes outside and we watch him remove the training wheels. As I see the wheels being removed I feel a sense of freedom.

The minute my dad is finished, we hop onto our bikes and I don't feel different any more. I ride up hills and down hills. We ride from the mine to the Tango, even crossing the cattle guard without getting stuck.

We ride our bike until my dad blows his whistle when its been dark at least an hour. I go inside bubbly and can't stop talking during supper. My mom and dad praises me. I can see their joy and pride in their faces. At bed time my mom reminds me that I have my six month check up with Dr. Brown. I'm not so happy at first. Then my mom reminds me that I can tell Dr. Brown of my accomplishment and asks how did I think he would feel. I fall asleep early thinking of my day and excited that I get to tell Dr. Brown.


Chapter 2

I am up early without mom telling me to get up. I ask her if I can go ride my bike. She sighs and says, “Okay once to the mine and right back.” I run outside, jump onto my bike and ride. I just need that ride to show me it wasn't a dream. I come back in the house and eat breakfast.

We make our way to the Crippled Children Clinic. I play with the other kids as we endure the 2 hour delay. It is normal for him to be late. Dr. Brown is an extraordinary, kind, intelligent and dedicated orthopedist who flies from New Orleans every six months to see us with no payment expected. He is middle aged, wears bifocals and like us, walks with a limp. He sometimes uses a cane. He once told me that he had Polio as a child.

Finally the Pink Lady calls my name and my mom and I walk to the back. I tell all the regular workers hi as we walk down the hall. They direct us to a room that is like a miniature cubbyhole. I impatiently wait for Dr. Brown.

He finally walks in with a entourage of nurses and people I have no idea who they are. They just smile. My mom tells me every time that they are students and researchers when I whine how embarrassing it is to walk down the middle of a room with only panties.

He immediately boasts, “Hey Sunshine! How are you? I am giddy and can't speak. He continues with his routine of explaining my history to the slew of people as he maneuvers my lower limbs and checks my reflexes with the despicable reflex hammer. After he finishes the exam he gives me his hand helping me off the table. I am just bursting with excitement as I spastic ally walk to the entrance of the dreadful catwalk. Sensing I am about to burst out of my skin, my mom finally interrupts him politely and tells him I have something to tell him .

He looks at me interestingly and I blurt out, “I can ride a bike!”

He looks at me questioningly then eyes my mom for confirmation. My mom nods and says, “You heard her. She can ride a two-wheel bicycle.” He asks me to explain in detail how I learned. Throughout my story about my exciting day yesterday he is shaking his head in disbelief, and wonderment, smiling and I think I see a tear flow from his eyes. I wonder silently why is he crying.

After I finish telling him, all is quiet. I look around. Some are whispering to each other. Some are just smiling and winks at me. I turn to my mom and she is blowing her nose in a tissue . I think everyone must have a cold. He intensely studies me for a few moments. I am nervous all of a sudden. He then speaks with a clear voice of excitement, “That is so wonderful Sunshine! I am so happy and proud of you. I knew you were special.” I look at him astonishingly. He continues, “You have to understand, you are one in a million of CP kids who can ride a bike. You have such perseverance and I always knew you could master things others couldn't imagine. You have the drive to do anything you want. Remember that. Now come and give me a hug.” I walk towards him and he reaches for me as I stumble nervously. He pulls me to him and hugs me tightly. My arms are too small to wrap around his broad shoulders but I rub his back I realize that this is the first time we hug.

After a moment, he turns me around towards the observers and places his hands on my shoulders. He looks at the observers and commands, “Again, remember this! No matter how hopeless the child may seem everyone deserves a chance to meet their potential. We don't know of many kids with CP that accomplishes riding a two wheeler but there is always that one to show how they can rise above their limitations. There is always hope.” He pauses then squeezes my shoulders harder and says, “Sunshine is a prime example.” l stand naked shamelessly with only my panties with as much pride as a marathon runner crossing the finish line!

My professor's other comments were: 

Excellent usage of "local color.">Avery Island, salt mine, etc.
Well written!
Love the humor!
This piece takes me to my childhood experience of riding bikes---happy memories!
Your work shows that you work from the heart!
Keep up your writing skills. I can tell that you enjoy writing. You could continue writing to eventually pursue publication.
Good usage of dialogue. Love the childhood play!
Thanks for sharing your work! And for sharing your outstanding way to show learning experiences from personal experiences.
Incredible way to end your story.

I think she is one of the best Instructors I've had.

Thanks for reading and comment (I can take negative criticism well, promise!)


Friday, March 25, 2011

First Criticism of my Writing

In my Creative writing class last week we had to write a description from a photo. It was hard for me to do. It was amazing how many different interpretations my classmates and I had. It was very interesting.

The Instructor, Mrs. LR, comments positively on our works. She prefers to build up our confidence with positivity than discourage us with negativity.

The photo was a man in a seat in the middle of a large room. He had something in his hand. But here's what I wrote:

In the center of the auditorium Jim sits leaning forward in the hard folding chair with his phone held tightly. He stares down to the concrete floor deep in thought.

Just a few hours ago he was ecstatic. Mary Ann had agreed to meet him after several weeks of persuasion. He was so happy. His heart was singing.

Jim had hurriedly dressed into his jeans and flannel shirt. Simultaneously he slipped his sandals and grabbed his keys and phone.

When he arrived, Mary Ann had not shown up yet. Becoming nervous, Jim trembled and mumbled to himself. However, the little experience he had with women , he knew they tended to be fashionably late.

He wandered around deep in thought. After a while, he sat conspicuously on the chair that is at the dead center of the room. As the sun shines through he continues to wait. His mind begins to reel. Minutes have become hours. It is driving him insane.

The third hour approaches and the realization that she is not coming sets in. He fidgets and looks around. He stares at the phone wishing it to ring. It doesn't.

A slew of emotions being to overtake his mind and spirit. He starts questioning what went wrong. What was he blind to? What made her change her mind? What did he say? What did he do?

He had tried so hard. What could he have done differently?

As he sits feeling defeated, his spirit is broken. He is once again returning to the deep hole of despair. There is no where to go so he just stays sitting.


I know I have a lot of work to be better and I did say I didn't particular care for the assignment. Her comments were:

Good strong character development one that many can relate to.
Excellent usage of descriptive phrases.
Outstanding usage of adverbs and adjectives.
Good way to create setting
Good job with setting your tone!

Thanks for reading and commenting if you choose to do so :)
The unknown resides opposite the strict plant.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Write Instead of Type.....Homosexuality.

I despise writing titles for my posts. Anyone have this problem? Anyone can give me any of their most appreciated suggestions?

I don't know why I can't sleep. I can't bring myself to take a shower and go to bed. I think its somewhat depression. And I think my depression is because of my shingles. I won't go on and on about my shingles woes.

MyLove says I read in bed and when I go to bed, my body is saying read instead of sleep.

There is some truth in that. I was a nurse and worked for a sleep disorder physician. I know all the do's and don'ts of sleep behaviour. (Is that the right spelling of don'ts, sorry too depressed and lazy to look it up and have a feeling spellcheck won't catch it. oh well. Sorry)

Also there is another reason I read before I go to bed is because its the ONLY time that it is quiet to read. I don't (usually)  hear blaring TVs, inconsiderate people with their boom boxes in their car, and just every day noise. It's the only time I can actually HEAR myself read to myself.

There's something that's been bothering me and I hit it off MyLove for feedback. "SIGH"  He is somewhat supportive. He just does not know how having kids is. He hasn't a clue and not interested in trying. I totally understand and respect his view.
My daughter has claimed that she is gay since 9th grade. What can I say? I've accepted it. I cannot do anything about it. Her father cannot do anything about it. No one but her can do anything about it. So what gets other people off to tell me they are going to talk to her about how they feel. Her 'gayness” is yet another future post...maybe.

Do they really think she even cares what they feel? Why do they think if they tell her about what God put man and woman on earth for she'll change her mind or..again care?. I have taught her all I can. I brought her to church. She was even an altar server. She was very active in the church. So she knows what her religion says about homosexuality.

My point is why tell me they are going to talk to her about this? I couldn't stop them even if I tried. It frustrates me that people bounce crap off me that neither she nor I want to hear.

It is her Life. I am her mother and will support her. I will be there when she has a lesbian break-up. (There I said it..L-E-S-B-I-A-N). If I wasn't there for her at any confusing or unconventional time as well as the good times I wouldn't be a good Mother, would I?

I feel a little better venting now. I shall go take that shower, snuggle against my manly Love and off to dreamland I go.

Thanks for reading and commenting.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

TYPICAL DREAM

My dream last night took place in a small dilapidated restaurant. It was my child, ex and I. Evidently, ex and I were still married.

As my child and I were waiting for her father (No idea where he was), she wrapped herself in a skein of purple yarn. After she looked like a mini purple mummy. There was a Hispanic man eating a sandwich at a table glancing at her. She proceeded to spin around. Instantaneously she had what appeared to be an unwrapped package containing something silver. So she twirls around and the package flies into the air and lands on the man's lap.

He stopped chewing for a minute. She stopped and looked at the man. The man chewed.

I got up and grabbed her. I commanded, “Go to the man and say you are sorry.”

Pouting, she yelled,“No!”

I said, “Yes!”

“No!” Standing with her hands sticking out the yarn folded.against her chest.

I put my face close to hers and quietly demanded, “Go to the man, look at him in the eyes and say you are sorry and mean it!

She stubbornly howled, “Nooo!" It seemed she was back in her terrible twos.

I grabbed her bending to her height and demanded to look at me. Her green eyes met my brown eyes

Hissing I said, “NOW.”

She pushed me away and stomped to the man and mumbled, “I am sorry”

He nodded.

Scene changed.
She was in a high chair and I was feeding her some kind of porridge. She was eating it and it seemed like I was not feeding her fast enough. She was about 2, with light short blonde hair and thick blue glasses.

Scene changes.

I entered a room which seemed to be an extension of the previous restaurant. My ex was sitting at a table with a white laced tablecloth submerged in a pile of papers. I stood at the entrance and watched him.

A few minutes passed then I walked to the table. He didn't look up or say anything.

I cleared my throat. He glanced up but went right back to his papers.

I prodded, “What are you doing?”

Without looking up, he drones, “Nothing.”

I continue to stand at the table and questioned where he had been. He ignored me and continued his work.

I woke up.

ANALYSIS: The theme is same with Layla being younger. Mummified in purple yarn probably means I wish she was younger (Not at 2 years of age though. She was always busy doing crazy things when she was younger. She continues to do so.

She was always stubborn. I thought she would never get through the “No” stage. I don't think she ever did. She just learned to manipulate the situation

 My ex ignoring me was a flashback. The tension in my dream was the same when we were married.

I am happy and relieved I woke up from that one

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Diagnosis/Creative Writing Class

Well, for who are following me and those who I send my blog to, you know I've been having pain and itching.

Yesterday, I finally went to the best  medical doctor. I've gone to him for several years and he calls me a "medical challenge"  Surprisingly, I was easy to diagnose. I had suspicion with my own medical knowledge and with family and friends speaking of experience.

I have Shingles. It comes from the chicken pox virus in your nerves. It is no fun. I wish this on no one.

It was too late to give me meds as it had started a week ago. If I had gone within 24 hours my symptoms started, he could have given me an antiviral. It was the weekend and then Mardi Gras so that virus chose the most inconvenient time to wake up. Oh well, such as my life.

He promised me the rash should go away in a month. He reassured me that I was no longer contagious. He told me I could take MyLove's Lortabs, Ibuprofen and an over the counter itching cream. The itching comes in spurts. The pain has continue to lessened except when I move a certain way. I just feel tired and achy. It's like my energy was zapped from me. I've been cold. I know its not cold outside or in my apartment. I feel like I'm in a freezer. Doc assures me this is part of this "Yucky Mess".

I have to hang on and keep on going.

Tuesday, my creative class started again. New people. Same instructor. We had homework Tuesday to read aloud today. The homework was to tell a story from a picture. I can't find the picture online. Anyway, it's amazing how many different stories you get out of one picture.

None of us wanted to read what we wrote and she said we didn't have to. You know how those teachers can be manipulative. 'SMILE" "You don't have to share but we learn from others." We all read what we wrote except for one. She was a high schooler and was not going for it. After we read ours, the instructor gave us positive criticism.  If we wanted, we could hand it in, and she'll reread it and write what we can improve on. But we didn't have too. I did because although I dread reading my work aloud, I do want to learn how to improve. That's why I took the class. Right?

I really think I will learn alot from this class.  It's exciting. I am glad I decided to do this and had MyLove support me.

Monday, March 14, 2011

Today is MyLove's Birthday

Today is MyLove's Birthday. I have shared almost 4 years of it with him and its been an honor. I love him so!

He is another one of those people think his birthday is just another day. 'SIGH' I just can't win with my loved one being celebratory or romantic etc. But I love him all the same.

 However, birthdays are special. It is your day you came into this world. My family always celebrated birthdays. I guess that is why I am into them.

It's not a big thing. We usually have a cake and meal with family. No gifts involved although cards are allowed.

Being that we are living in sin, we haven't done the family thing for our birthdays. It's sorta separate.

We've gone eat lunch with his mom then he and I do something together. My family usually sends him a card.

This year, I kinda went all out. I ask him what he would like and he says I don't have to give him anything. "SIGH" So I thought about it.

I was trying to make a card but I've been feeling so bad that I couldn't get into it. He had mentioned cakes or cookies or cupcakes. Last year I bought him cupcakes and gave him a balloon and card.

I looked online at Cookies-n-Bloom but nothing caught my eye. Then I thought, he loves fruit and chocolate. So I went to Edible Arrangements online and browsed. There were some nice things. I ordered a box of  peanut butter chocolate covered bananas.

This morning I went to Winn Dixie for a few things and I picked a humorous card. As I was browsing the store, I noticed balloons in the air and set in different areas. So I bought him a colorful balloon.

It was funny with the balloon. I had to pull my buggy close to the shelf and put one foot on the buggy and one on the shelf, jumped and grabbed the ribbon of the balloon. I tied it to the basket handle. Well when I got to  the cashier she pulled it off the basket to scan, let go and it went up in the air.

Of course there were only shorties around so she called someone else. The guy was taller than us but still couldn't reach so he went get a broom. We were all thinking what good will a broom do? He tried twirling the ribbon around the broom but it didn't work. Another customer suggested he stand on the counter to get it but the cashier did. We finally got it after 2-3 minutes. I help onto it for dear life and of course the wind was blowing but I finally got it in the car and went on my way. I put gas in my car (3.33/gallon) and went pick up his candy.

I gave it to him at lunch and he was somewhat surprised hehe. We're ordering pizza from Pizza Village and plan to eat it while we watch the finale of Bachelor and then who knows from there :).

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Away From Her-Review

I just finished watching Away from Her. It was a Canadian movie about a couple of 44 years dealing with the wife developing Alzheimer's. She decides to go into a nursing home. It was a rather slow moving movie but a nice love story nevertheless. It's nothing like "The Notebook," which is my favorite love story. I won't spoil the ending for you in case you decide to watch it.
It makes you wonder what you would do if your loved one had Alzheimer's. I worked with patients with Alzheimer's. At that time Alzheimer's was just being diagnoses. They were often diagnosed with dementia or something else before then . At that time there were no special wards or hospitals for them. The families took care of them or they were put into a nursing home.

I know I would take care of my loved ones whether they had Alzheimer's or anything to where they couldn't take care of themselves. Unless I couldn't absolutely take care of them I would.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Addendum To Earlier Post

Well, my pain has lessened but you know that you know something is just at the surface? That pinch is at the surface but much better. I just need to watch how I turn and bend. 

However, I developed a red patch on my back. MyLove said it looked like a rash. My Daughter said it was bumpy and welts. When I feel it, its all bumpy and it hurts and itches.

When I noticed the bump, it was after I returned from my six month check-up from my pulmonologist. I mentioned the pain and he threw out it could be degenerative bone disease. He is a wonderful pulmonologist but just diagnosising the pain without thorougly examining it just caused me to change the subject.  But he was able to give me good news. My pulmonary function had steadily decreased every year for the past year and we couldn't understand why. Well this check up, my function went up two points..Woooo!

He's worried about my weight as my primary doctor but we're at a standstill. Pulmonologist said, "I guess your body is just saying you are suppose to be small." I disagreed. Grant you I'm small, 5' and I like my ideal weight to be 95-100 but once I got sick about 2 years ago, and lost weight to 75 lbs I can't seem to get it back up.

Anyway back to my rash. I looked it up on Web MD and various websites and the diagnosis I came up with was shingles. .I emailed my aunt who I remembered having shingles at one time and the way she described it, it was half of my symptoms. So who in heck knows. If it doesn't clear I'll have to see doc.

It will suck if I have shingles because my cancelled writing class last year is starting Tuesday. I'm going to be royall pissed off if I have to cancel going.

For some reason I've been having lonesomeness from my daughter. She lives in the same city, goes to college, works and lives with roomies. She comes about every 1-2 weeks to do her laundry and spend time with me. Most of the times, she crashes out in MyLove's chair. And that's okay. It's just knowing she is here with me. She slept for 2 hours out of the 9 hours she was here. This was an unsually long stay for her. We talked, watched NCIS and did things we used to do when it was just her and I.

I still get that hurt in my heart feeling like I lost something when she decided to live with her dad a couple of years after we were divorced. She and I still saw each other but it was like she was taken away from me.She was by the infatuation of it being better there because of better living (pool, more family members in house, he gave her freedom I wouldn't give her because I was protecting her.) which is still up for grabs rather it was the best thing for her or not. However, she was of age to decide according to the courts.

When I think that awful period, it still hurts my heart like glass piercing. I pray to God to help me through and he has given her back in other ways. It's a different situation but I am feeling that closeness that we had lost for a while. When she says, "MOM, I love you and thank you for everything you do for me and believing in me."  My heart cries of gratitude and love to God for giving her to me and making her realize I do love her and believe in her. I hope to live to see her get that college diploma and become a success in helping others.

When I hand her my cash I have on me or write her a check she used to ask and cry. Once we had talked becase she kept asking me what it was for and we would just cry before I could answer. So I thought one day how I can relate to her that I don't need thanks or a reason to give her anything, its because I can now and want to.  I reminded her how her papa used to give her that bag of change  or her granny would slip me or/and  her a few dollars without knowing it actually either kept our electrcity on, or gave us money to feed us for a week. (Please, aunts and cousins who my blogs are sent to keep this to yourself and not mention to my parents.) I told her I knew her daddy was giving minimum if any when she was living with them and she and I both know how hard it is.I I know it is not easy out on your own and she is working, studying and trying to make ends meet.  I told her from then on, unless I write a memo on the check or tell her it is for something like her tuition etc, its hers to use as she sees fit. I told her since we both so damn emotional, she doesn't have to verbalize thank you, a hug will do. It has been a Godsend because although we don't say it, we are still remembering those bleak times when we were barely making it and that's why we cry.

I believe she is barely making it. I told her never to hesitate to ask me if she needed anything (But I know she won't, she is like her mom, too damn stubborn). I'm not rich. I am on a fixed income. MyLove  and I have our arrangments as we both agreed NEVER to combine our finances. We've had bad experiences with our exes. But after I pay my bills and put some in the bank and if nothing comes up I give her what I have left.

I believe that is what a parent should do. Help their child until they get their career and get started in their life. That's what my parents did with me when I got out of high school.

Oh wow its almost midnight. I better visit the sandman before I turn into a pumpkin.

Thanks for reading and commenting.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Letter to Office Depot-Self-Explanatory

I am writing regarding my experience ordering on your website on March 3, 2011. My goal was to order online and pick up at the store.

I went through the process of filling my NAZ but when I went to enter my credit card information, it gave me numerous errors stating my billing address was incorrect. I unsuccessfully tried several times.

I turned to your chat support and chatted with a gentleman named Adrian. He told me there must be a glitch with my bank and directed me to call my bank. I told him I had used my credit card elsewhere online and I had no problem. He was persistent for me to call the bank. Why is it always the bank's fault? We ended the chat.

I called my bank and the representative checked my account and he said there was no activity attempting to get to my account by office depot and there was nothing showing in my account that anything was wrong. I confirmed the billing address on my account.

Then I returned to chat support and chatted with Jeff. He told me he could take the order, give me an order number and then I could call customer service with the order number and place my order. They could not take my credit card information online. I understood about the credit card information. I still thought it was ambiguous but I proceeded as directed. I reiterated that I wanted to pick it up. He took all the information down and gave me an order number.

After I ended chat, I called customer service as instructed. I spoke to a female with an accent I could hardly understand. We went through a seemingly long tedious process. She said she would make a note that I would pay by credit card at the store. When she was confirming my order, she disconnected in midst of her confirmation.

By that time, it had been an hour trying to make an order.

I went back to my account and I saw there was an order. However, obviously Jeff entered the wrong store number because it was in another city and state!

Flustered by then, I cancelled the order.

I went back and made the order and indicated it would be paid by check. I received a confirmation via email. It stated that I would be getting another email when the order was ready in about 4 hours. It also stated if the order was not picked up within 48 hours, my order would be restocked. I never received the confirmation email that my order was ready.

The next morning, March 4, 2011, I went to the store with a copy of my email confirmation. The young man took my email, walked to what looked like a fax machine. He was talking through a mic pinned on his shirt very low. That in itself is very annoying!

He was walking away and I asked him where my order was. He said, "I'll be just a minute." I watched him. Obviously my order was not filled because he was filling it then. As he walked back with what I ordered, I inquired why my order wasn't ready in addition to giving him my opinion on this whole situation. I commented how useless the online service was for pick up. All he did was apologize. The apology was like a robot programmed. During the whole time, he kept talking through the annoying mic. How rude!

So he adds it up and says it is $22 something. I said, "No it is not!" It is suppose to be $19.42. He returns talking through his mic and then said to me, "Okay,we'll give you that price." I said, "Why is it different?" He responds, "Online prices and in store prices are different." I finally got my order and left.

Although I received my order, which wasn't technically an order from online because it was like I told him what I wanted and he went get it. I used the pick-up online ordering for convenience. I did not experience any convenience whatsoever.

I am still unable to get your site to recognize my card. However, it sure recognized it at the store.

Unless you can give me an explanation of such incompetence I will hesitate using your store or site ever again. I also will not refer your online order service for pick-up..

Sincerely yours,

Monday, March 7, 2011

I HATE WHEN I HURT MYSELF AND CAN"T REMEMBER HOW I DO IT!

No! I was not drunk! Although its Mardi Gras here. "ARGH".

Anyway, Saturday, all of a sudden and I mean ALL OF A SUDDEN I started feeling this pinching along my lower back. It was more of a nuisiance and a fleeing thought that it could be my pin in my leg acting up again.

For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, I'll summarize. Any questions feel free to comment and I'll go more in depth accordingly.

I have cerebral palsy and when I was a child, like most other kids with CP, I had many surgeries.

The last two surgeries on my legs I had was considered major. Since my legs were turned in, they literally had to break my femur to rotate them and then put a pin in place to keep it together. When I saw the same surgery while I was in Nursing School, I freaked. It gives me the willies to this day!

Periodically, especially, when weather changes, those pins hurt. I do not know why. I asked doctors if there was a way they could be rusted or something. Afterall, they've been in my leg since the 1970's. I was reassured that it could not happen.

So anyway, the pain became worse. It is like a clothespin clamped on a nerve and won't let go.  It starts from my lower back and radiates down my leg.

I hardly slept  that night. I twisted and turned because there was no position to lessen it. I ended up getting up and sleeping in my chair because I didn't want to wake MyLove (although it would take a hurricane ripping the roof off our apartment to wake him up). I tried stretching and moving but the pain won't let up. I've taken enough Ibuprofen to overdose an elephant. (Okay a little exagerration but you get my meaning). I've put ice and heat on it.

Last night, I took an over the counter sleeping pill to knock my butt out. It worked somewhat. At least I slept in my bed.

This morning I went to CVS and asked the pharmacy for some cream that won't burn like Icy Hot or stink to high heaven because strong smells trigger my asthma. She suggested Asperecreme so I bought it.

I came home and rubbed it in. My skin is numb but the pain has not lessened. So when MyLove came home, he gave me his Darvocet, he never took after surgery almost a year ago. The Darvocet is helping me tolerate the pain more.

Of course, its Mardi Gras so doctors are closed. Even if mine was opened I'm contemplating if I want to go just for him to tell me what I suspect already? There is nothing to do about it except rest and what I am doing already.

And I'll have to pay my deductible plus meds. I'll get more pain meds though or anti-inflammatory drugs.

Another question: Do I really feel like driving 30 miles that usually takes 45 minutes one way and wait another 15 minutes to have him tell me what I already know and maybe give me a prescription?

I consider myself having high tolerance to pain but I was actually thinking today, if pot was legal would I go for it? I've never tried pot but heard it works well for pain. It would have to come in pill form though because I don't smoke.

Damn I hate when I do something hurting myself than not remembering what I do so I would try not to do it again.

Tis My Life!

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Complaint Letter to Office Depot

I am writing regarding my experience ordering on your website on March 3, 2011. My goal was to order online and pick up at the store.

I went through the process of filling my NAZ but when I went to enter my credit card information, it gave me numerous errors stating my billing address was incorrect. I unsuccessfully tried several times.

I turned to your chat support and chatted with a gentleman named Adrian. He told me there must be a glitch with my bank and directed me to call my bank. I told him I had used my credit card elsewhere online and I had no problem. He was persistent for me to call the bank. Why is it always the bank's fault? We ended the chat.

I called my bank and the representative checked my account and he said there was no activity attempting to get to my account by office depot and there was nothing showing in my account that anything was wrong. I confirmed the billing address on my account.

Then I returned to chat support and chatted with Jeff. He told me he could take the order, give me an order number and then I could call customer service with the order number and place my order. They could not take my credit card information online. I understood about the credit card information. I still thought it was ambiguous but I proceeded as directed. I reiterated that I wanted to pick it up. He took all the information down and gave me an order number.

After I ended chat, I called customer service as instructed. I spoke to a female with an accent I could hardly understand. We went through a seemingly long tedious process. She said she would make a note that I would pay by credit card at the store. When she was confirming my order, she disconnected in midst of her confirmation.

By that time, it had been an hour trying to make an order.

I went back to my account and I saw there was an order. However, obviously Jeff entered the wrong store number because it was in another city and state!

Flustered by then, I canceled the order.

I went back and made the order and indicated it would be paid by check. I received a confirmation via email. It stated that I would be getting another email when the order was ready in about 4 hours. It also stated if the order was not picked up within 48 hours, my order would be restocked. I never received the confirmation email that my order was ready.

The next morning, March 4, 2011, I went to the store with a copy of my email confirmation. The young man took my email, walked to what looked like a fax machine. He was talking through a mic pinned on his shirt very low. That in itself is very annoying!

He was walking away and I asked him where my order was. He said, "I'll be just a minute." I watched him. Obviously my order was not filled because he was filling it then. As he walked back with what I ordered, I inquired why my order wasn't ready in addition to giving him my opinion on this whole situation. I commented how useless the online service was for pick up. All he did was apologize. The apology was like a robot programmed. During the whole time, he kept talking through the annoying mic. How rude!

So he adds it up and says it is $22 something. I said, "No it is not!" It is suppose to be $19.42. He returns talking through his mic and then said to me, "Okay,we'll give you that price." I said, "Why is it different?" He responds, "Online prices and in store prices are different." I finally got my order and left.

Although I received my order, which wasn't technically an order from online because it was like I told him what I wanted and he went get it. I used the pick-up online ordering for convenience. I did not experience any convenience whatsoever.

I am still unable to get your site to recognize my card. However, it sure recognized it at the store.

Unless you can give me an explanation of such incompetence I will hesitate using your store or site ever again. I also will not refer your online order service for pick-up..

Sincerely yours,