The People You Meet when You Pay Attention

Yesterday afternoon I hung up after speaking with a Social Security rep who informed me that the paperwork that I hand delivered to my local SSA office was missing. I was livid. Because it was the end of my world? No, I realize that it is just that: a minor inconvenience, however it doesn't quite feel like it when I tell my stiff, painful joints and unsteady gait that I must make another painful trip downtown. I take a deep breath and tell myself to stop being such a pansy-ass about it and get over it. For God's sake, so many others have it so much worse than I, who am I to bitch and complain?

The Nectar of the Gods

The next morning I wake up and am painfully aware that I didn't sleep well the night before. I grump and begin shuffling to the fridge with swollen feet the size of Bozo shoes to fetch my YooHoo-esque protein drink that helps the immune system stay strong and a Diet Coke to swallow all my flippin' medication for the day. As I grunt and groan and move about like an arthritic 75 year old, I flop in my chair and begin swallowing protein drink, pills and Diet Coke. Once those 2 cans are empty, I wait as if a lightening bolt is going to strike me with the power and agility of a gymnast. It doesn't but at least I know I have the meds down my throat, now off to the Social Security Office to hand deliver a form for the second time.

I hobble into the local office, touch a screen and rip a number from the machine and sit down. I casually survey the scads of people sitting around me. I find that even though there are plenty of younger people here along with the elderly, everyone's eyes are transfixed on nothing. Some look as though they haven't had a meal in a few days, some are lost in thought that tells me that the memory or situation is painful. People are talking in low tones and shushing their children. I look over at the Social Security Reps and see the protective hardness in their eyes as they explain for the one millionth time to their customers that they didn't receive the form or don't qualify for benefits.

I notice a woman sitting next to me who has her head resting on her cane and finally looks up to see who is staring at her. Her temper is short and physical pain is tender to the touch. When the SSA Rep announces the next number over the loudspeaker, the continuing conversations among those waiting and the impatience of children fill the room with audible life. The woman frowns and furrows her brow and shouts a bit too loudly; I can't hear the number! What was the number they called? The crowd's conversations were evacuated and ushered out immediately for a more appropriate time to be determined by a more friendly stranger.

The cross woman was oblivious to her rudeness and continued to stand, walk, sit and change position in order to find a more comfortable position. Her number was called and I watched her hobble to the window. Her irritation was apparent and the SSA rep's defenses were held firmly in place as a shield for protection against customers such as these. After her business was complete, she shuffled her feet toward the door and eased herself into the car for the trip home.

I shook my head and told myself, I hope I never get like that. But, at the same time, I remember when my grandmother would be in such pain from her ailments and became uncharacteristically irritated and even at times, angry without provocation. At the time, I remember watching store clerks become visibly upset or taken aback at her behavior not knowing why she was behaving as harshly as she was. My thoughts brought me back to present day and I watched the woman pull away from SSA in her car and saw her face rumpled in pain.

Pain can be an ugly creature to contend with and to watch others suffer from.

Somehow, I came to meet and know my grandmother in a totally different way by observing that woman. So, I guess if you pay attention, you can understand others a bit better.

By the way, 'that woman' was me.

More Musings Later-

J.R. Simpson

I don't think I've ever written about my grandfather before, which is odd to me. I do believe he is the only man in my life that hasn't disappointed or hurt me. And, that is really saying something.

My grandfather was never known as my "grandfather." That's far too formal a title for him. He was simply known as "Papaw" to the grandkids. I know I have idealized and perfect memories of him, but that is what grandchildren do if the relationship is a good one. Ours wasn't good...it was incredible, much to my good fortune.

In a nutshell, I believe it is from him that I get my 'no-nonsense' attitude, outspoken and fiery temper from. He was every man's man and every woman's protector without smothering the hell out of them in the process. If I step into my grandmother's shoes, I know his temper was difficult to deal with. But, I never saw that side of him except for 3 times. But, that is for other stories in the future.

His memory sometimes wraps around my brain and reminds me of the extraordinary childhood and partial teenage hood I shared with him. He was a sublime storyteller, fisherman, Mr Fix it whether dealing with his hands or his heart and a superb grandparent. Not to slight my grandmother...she was as well. This corporate sounding grandfather gave me many memories including some very tall tales that I sometimes didn't figure out until days, months or even years later.

For example: He was a close friend of Harry Houdini. Did you know that? He had a way of telling a story that made me believe this until long after he passed away. I'm sure he was delighted to see my realization years later!

He was a Renaissance man that never ceased to amaze me. He created inventions but never patented them. He made these tools to ease his work, not necessarily to become a rich man.

The memories I remember to this day are many, but a few that I will share with you are:

First and foremost, he was a fisherman. He often caught Bass, Catfish, Brim and Perch. He cleaned the fish as skillfully as any surgeon performed surgery. He was poetry in motion.

He was a sailor in the Navy. It was during those times at port when he and some of his Naval buddies got a tattoo. Who knew that years later, a granddaughter would gaze at his left arm with the elaborate staff and snake tattoo for hours and wonder about his adventures on the sea.

He always wanted to travel to the Amazon and then to Australia.

The Amazon River

He used a brush with shaving soap a big mug for shaving, and wore Old Spice aftershave.

He knew how badly I hated school as a kid and would sometimes pick me up during the middle of day and take me to Jefferson City, an outdoor strip mall in Port Arthur, Texas where we ate at Luby's Cafeteria and browse records at the record store. Sometimes we went to the hardware store. It didn't matter to me, I wasn't in school and we never told my mother. He always delivered me a few blocks from home so I could walk home at the same time I did every day. No suspicion and he would drive on to my house and act as if he hadn't seen me all day. My mother didn't find this out until I was well into my 30's.

He was a fabulous dancer and particularly Cajun dancing. His partner of choice was my older sister. They danced, kicked their legs, did the Cajun holler (Ahhhh-Yeeeeeee!) and glided across the floor as if they were dancing on glass. I could watch them for hours.

He was a heavy smoker which required him to switch to pipe smoking via order from his doctors. His uniform after the Navy became tan, short sleeved shirts (regardless of weather) with a chest pocket that held his hard case glasses. He also wore before it was popular, denim painter's pants. Why? there was a pocket for everything.

He rarely bought anything for himself, but he bought a beautiful table that had a picture of a parrot under the glass made with butterfly wings. There was also a small lamp that went with it and it stood in his living room for as long as I can remember. I remember looking at that table and thinking it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. He also bought a porcupine quill box and kept his pictures of his travels in there. It even included photos from the Philippines as well as pictures from the war. He never told us why, but he instructed us to never open that box. One look from J.R. and you did exactly as he said. He noticed me one day admiring the table and told me that it was mine when he and my grandmother passed. I was thrilled.

My Treasured "Butterfly Table"

And so, to avoid the family squabbling, years before my grandmother's death, she gave me the prized table and I was elated. Is it worth much? In dollars and cents, I have no idea. In memories and enjoyment? It's priceless.

The day neither began nor ended unless Fishing preceded both.

Sometimes when I pass by a lake...if I squint really hard, I can see him casting his line.

More Musings Later-

If I could ask God a few Questions, it would go something like this:

The Big Bang Recreation

CREATION QUESTIONS

If in the beginning, there was nothingness; who or what made you?

What made you create the universe as we know it?

Do you control every aspect of our lives or do we?

Is Destiny a reality? If so, what is the purpose?

Why are there Black Holes?

PURPOSE

What was the point of creating humans, animals etc.?

Okay, in an effort to be delicate (this is me you're talkin' too remember) Why is a monthly cycle necessary for women to have babies? Surely you could think of a better way?

Did you make the human body as it is so humans could understand how to perform surgery and heal others? I'm thinking the human body could be made a little more efficiently. (Not that I'm criticizing...I'm just sayin')

Other than the humans that were mentioned in the Bible, who are you most proud of the way they lived their life?

What is the meaning of life? I have my ideas, is that the way it is supposed to be? Feel free to jump in.

HOW COME?

There are some recurring themes in our civilization; there are people and groups who seem to follow their own way from the mainstream culture. (i.e., Jesus, Noah, Moses, Martin Luther King, Jr., Buddha, Mother Theresa and a slew of others). Aside from the obvious, how come they are viewed as outcasts?

How come people consider the literal words of the Bible as what actually happened. Is it? Just askin', cause, "In the beginning, there was Adam and Eve...they had 2 sons, Cain and Abel. Cain slew Abel. Cain took a wife.." (Where did she come from?) I'm just sayin...

How come some people are seemingly more persecuted than others?

How come Catholics believe the Pope is a direct communicator with you?

How come the Pope wears elaborate robes and hats when Jesus dressed as a commoner?

How come their seems to be so much corruption in various religions?

DO WE...

Live in a parallel universe?

Live among other life such as aliens?

Ever stop the continuum of Reincarnation? if so, when?

FINAL QUESTIONS

How long do we "layover" before we reincarnate again?

When I try to think through "GOD", the meaning, the existence the true reality of it...it is beyond my comprehension. Why are we so feeble intellectually?

BY THE WAY

Thank you for my sense of humor. It has definitely come in handy.

Thank you for those who surround me...even the ones who try my patience and those who have hurt me. I've learned a great deal about myself from it. The experiences were not wasted on me.

Thank you for allowing me to be a writer. It's allowed me experiences that I could never have imagined.

Thank you for allowing me to be a musician when I was younger. It's allowed me experiences that I could never have imagined.

More Musings Later-

This blog post was intended to pontificate about our lives and the meaning thereof in earnest. I did mix humor with (gasp) religion. What can I say? God made me this way.

Writers

Writers are strange, mysterious, wounded and magical. I'm not calling myself "magical" but I definitely fit the other criteria. The fact that writers labor over an opening sentence to their novel, writing articles, essays and other modes of communication all for the sake of having it be as perfect as possible speaks volumes about their uniqueness and pursuit of magic.

Tonight, I was working late and a Google alert came up that one of my favorite writers had just posted to her blog. I've long admired her writing talent and I have to admit that when I read her posts, I silently wish that I had her way with words. She can arrange a cluster of letters to form words that evoke emotions that I alone relate to on such a deep level. Of course, all of her readers feel this way. Hence, my admiration.

Tonight she spoke about a novel she was writing. I was thrilled and will most definitely buy it. She mentioned about self-publishing it, and I saw my chance to offer some suggestions (although I am sure she knows all about this subject.) After hitting the send button, I noticed a few moments later that a reply came. This incredible writer found my bio and wrote me the following short message:

..."You're a genius and Renaissance person. Good luck with the sales of your own book. If you want me to review it, please just mail it or email gallies. It would be an honor to review..."

I was dumbstruck. I read it over and over. I thought about the term "Renaissance person" and read it a few more times. She obviously saw where I was accepted to U.T. at Arlington at the age of 12 for a summer percussion symposium. Genius? No way, I just peaked early.

Cultural Dictionary meaning of "Renaissance Person "
Noun: An outstandingly versatile, well-rounded person. The expression alludes to such Renaissance figures as Leonardo da Vinci, who performed brilliantly in many different fields.
The American Heritage® New Dictionary of Cultural Literacy, Third EditionCopyright © 2005 by Houghton Mifflin Company.Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved. Cite This Source

I looked at it again...and again.

I looked up the definition.

I'm still looking at it.

My feet have yet to touch the ground and I've said a thousand silent THANK YOU's.

More Musings I'm sure-

I Don't Get It

Okay, there are some issues that have been making me stop and scratch my head. See if you don't agree:

Guns Allowed in Restaurants and Bars

Who in the hell voted this law to pass? WHO? Those who declare that "They have the right to bear arms?" What people don't understand is that it doesn't mean you can "pack heat" anywhere you please. What are you going to do? Shoot the McDonalds clerk for getting your order wrong? Give me a BREAK! See Wiki's explanation.

Wikipedia: the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that "[t]he Second Amendment protects an individual right to possess a firearm unconnected with service in a militia, and to use that arm for traditionally lawful purposes, such as self-defense within the home."[24]

Guns in the Parks

"Okay, back away from the monkey bars and I won't blow your head off!" I mean if you don't set kids straight at a young age, they "won't learn nuthin'" Yet, people in Nashville are all in an uproar over this. HELLO? Still don't get it.

Obama Bashers

That Obama guy is too big for his britches...Ok, I agree that the "Beer Summit" was stupid. He misspoke and had to get out of it somehow. Think back people...remember how "W" used to mangle the English language and then chuckle about it? Remember when he had that deer in the headlight look nearly 95% of the time? Get over it!

One more: Remember when Obama started working before he even took the oath? AND "W" LET HIM? Hell, he was kicked back in the oval office suckin on a cigar just counting down the time. He was a waste and so are people's time if they are going to gripe for 4 years.

Michael Jackson Coverage

Alright...the man is dead and it was because of the drugs. DUH...bury the guy! He was the cash cow for his family and his father is even more of an ass than I originally thought. Last night I watched Nancy Grace and they played the same piece of tape OVER AND OVER until the 30 minute show was over. And I mean OVER and OVER. Nothing more to see people, move along.

Oh, one last thing: Joe Jackson is stating that an older boy is Michael's biological son. HELLO! Michael is not the biological father of any children. C'mon, do I really have to tell people that? I think it was awful that his 3 children found out that Debbie Rowe was their mother on T.V. and that Michael wasn't their biological father.

Can somebody please cut Blanket's hair and pay attention to him? He looks like a lost little soul.

C'mon people, has everyone lost their common sense?

By the way, I've officially gotten old: When I saw this photo of Michael, I was dying to pull his hair out of his eyes!

More Musings Later-

THAT'S where I get it from!

Awhile back, I blogged about unconventional style, tastes etc. I began to wonder where I get this odd streak of thinking. How many other people would like a small fridge in the living room? Am I the only one? What about cat walkways built near the ceiling of the house? What about that? What about making sleep wear our only wear? These are the things I wonder about sometimes. Strange, I know. But I wonder, am I the only one to think of stuff like this?

Then it hit me...I come from a long line of rebels in my family. The ones I remember most vividly of course, is my grandfather. Had he been in different circumstances, he had a power name for a great corporate executive. Instead, he was a no-nonsense, hard worker with a wicked sense of humor.

Example: My grandmother was lamenting over which color of lipstick to use. When she asked my grandfather who was smoking his pipe and reading the paper for his preference, I heard him say, "Lipstick and Paint make you plenty of what you ain't." Fair enough. Little did he know he was preaching to the choir with me.

If I asked him why he did something that seemed unconventional he would stop and look at me and reply, "Because I can," No elaboration, just the facts, maam.

So, I thought back even further. My Great Aunt Viola was the same way. No mincing of the words, she said what she thought and that was that. I have a feeling Aunt Viola and I are on the same team. Her husband left her a widow when she was young. They did manage to have one child before my Great Uncle passed. One day, I asked her, "Why haven't you ever remarried?" with the rudeness of an innocent child who didn't know better yet.

Aunt Viola looked at me as if I were nuts. "God no! I did my duty! Who said I have to do it again?" I thought about it and agreed. Who said she had to remarry?

Then, when I was about 12 years old I think, a friend asked me to a family trip to Teneha, Timpson, Bobo and Blair, Texas. Yes, it really does exist. There is not much there and I did get introduced to no bathrooms in the cabin! Nor was there an outhouse. I'm sure Generation X and Y can't even imagine such a thing...but there ya go.

Another unusual site was a house that sat in either Teneha, Timpson Bobo or Blair, I'm not sure. Why was it unusual? My Great Great Uncle painted it in polka dots. Why? Who said he couldn't? The town thought he was off his flipping rocker, but he liked it. You know what? If he asked family, friends etc. over, he never had to give directions. His house was the only one with polka dots.

I guess he just had an odd way of thinking.

More Musings Later-

The Game of Life and the Importance of Words

This morning as I was waiting for my bagel to finish toasting, I began to have a free floating memory rush back to me. I do that sometimes...I don't have to be thinking about anything in particular (especially in the morning) and sometimes, I will be reminded of a memory from long ago. Today was no exception.

I began to think about my grandmother. Not my maternal grandmother who I absolutely adored, but my paternal grandmother. I didn't know her very well because of...well...there were alot of family dynamics going on and she wasn't that interested in my father or his family. As a result, we knew of her, I remember visiting her exactly 3 times during my childhood. She offered my sister and I a Coke and we were to drink one and be quiet. And, we did.

I have to admit, I didn't much like her. She rarely remembered my name and stared at me when my father's guilt outweighed the strength of his shoulders. We sat....drinking that one Coke...being quiet....listening to the grandfather clock tick away the minutes in her musty home. Why do I remember this? I don't know exactly. I guess because I was remembering a quote that popped into my head.

The third visit to my grandmother was not pleasant. She was dying and my father was attending to her along with his sisters. I sat in the living room alone listening to her illness and drinking my one Coke. Until I spotted a small white box by her easy chair. It was filled with quotes. For someone who seemed so angry, resentful and callous obviously read these jewels as she began each day. I discovered her secret.

Did I have different feelings about her in the end? No. she was distant either by design or determination. But it did convince me that this distant and angry woman struggled each day. And, her refuge was in a small white box. Yet, it was like watching someone being thrown a life preserver and they keep reaching and never grasp it even though it is floating right in front of them. You've known people like that, haven't you? So, I thought I would share some favorite quotes of mine in memory of the stranger known as my paternal grandmother.


If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun.
-- Katharine Hepburn

People take different roads seeking fulfillment and happiness. Just because they're not on your road doesn't mean they've gotten lost.
-- Dalai Lama

You can't be brave if you've only had wonderful things happen to you.
-- Mary Tyler Moore

Everyone has talent. What is rare is the courage to follow the talent to the dark place where it leads.
-- Erica Jong

You never find yourself until you face the truth.
-- Pearl Bailey

It's a Wonderful Life (1946)
Henry Travers (Clarence): Remember George, No man is a failure who has friends.

To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)
Gregory Peck (Atticus Finch): If you just learn a single trick, Scout, you'll get along a lot better with all kinds of folks. You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view...Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.

Those who dance are considered insane by those who cannot hear the music.
-- George Carlin

God has given you one face, and you make yourself another.
-- William Shakespeare

If you don't get lost, there's a chance you may never be found.
-- Author Unknown

It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.
-- e.e. cummings

Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds.
-- Albert Einstein

All of us have moments in our lives that test our courage. Taking children into a house with white carpet is one of them.
-- Erma Bombeck

Carpe Diem (Seize the day)
-- Horace

You can't hold a man down without staying down with him.
-- Booker T. Washington


Quotes from "A River Runs Through It" Norman MacLean
Long ago, when I was a young man, my father said to me, "Norman, you like to write stories." And I said "Yes, I do." Then he said, "Someday, when you're ready you might tell our family story. Only then will you understand what happened and why."

Like many fly fishermen in western Montana where the summer days are almost Arctic in length, I often do not start fishing until the cool of the evening. Then in the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise. Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.

It is those we live with and love and should know who elude us.

More Musings Later-

Not so Fast...

Hmmmm, the Steve McNair case wrapped up pretty quickly didn't it?

What do we know about what happened? Here is what I picked up and I'm not a legal nor criminal expert in any shape form or fashion.

B A C K G R O U N D

Apparently, Steve McNair and his wife had not been living in the same home for at least the last 3 or 4 months. TMZ has reported that Steve had a girlfriend (Kahzemi) with whom he had taken on vacation (see the parasailing photos on their website) and purchased gifts such as a Cadillac for her. He apparently met her at Dave and Busters where she waitressed at Oprymills.

Also, he opens a restaurant on Jefferson Street that serves comfort food where he takes on an active role as owner.

He also rented a condo from a good friend off of Lea avenue in downtown Nashville where they would meet and spend time together.

INCONSISTENT F A C T S FROM POLICE

• July 2nd, Kahzemi buys a gun in the Dave and Busters parking lot. She is depressed and thinks McNair is cheating on her. (I know).


• Kahzemi and McNair are pulled over by the same cop that slapped McNair with a DUI a year or more ago. Kahzemi is booked and waits for bail from McNair. McNair is allowed to leave and take a cab home. (as co-owner of the vehicle, they should have both been booked).


• According to police, McNair had been barhopping on 2nd avenue in the wee hours of Jul 4th. He reportedly went to his condo to sleep.


• Police also stated that a mere hours later, he had taken 2 of his sons fishing at Percy Priest Lake. Did the sons not smell liquor on him? Could they not tell he was drunk? Nothing was out of the ordinary?


• The friend who rents the condo to McNair stopped by to "check on some things" at the pad. He notices nothing out of the ordinary, he sees McNair seated on the couch and assumes he is sleeping. Meanwhile, his girlfriend is on the floor lying in a pool of blood.


• He does what he needs to do at the condo and turns to leave and notices blood on the carpet. He now realizes that McNair isn't asleep. (DUH)


• He immediately calls a friend - NOT 911. 45 minutes to an hour later, they call 911.


• Then the police come in and begin investigating and people start milling around wondering what is going on.


• the NPD question neighbors and no one heard a gunshot, shouting, screaming, etc. Nothing.


• McNair is shot in the right temple, left temple and twice in the chest. Kahzemi has a reported self-inflicted gunshot wound to her right temple.


• The case is ruled murder/suicide.

Now, Here is the WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE VERSION.

• I don't believe he took his sons fishing. I think that is a feeble attempt at a "feel good" story about McNair. Besides, wouldn't the sons mention his drunkeness to their mother? I'm just saying...


• Michelle McNair stated she hasn't heard from Steve in "days". She is currently living in their mansion in Green Hills. The sons (except for 1 I think) are underage. Wouldn't McNair need to call his kids or come by the house to get them? Wouldn't someone mention this to the Mom? I'm just sayin'.....


• His "Gridiron 9" restaurant was opened just a couple of weeks ago to the public. She still hasn't heard from Steve in days? The kids didn't go to the opening? hmmmmm.


• The friend that rented the condo comes by to check on things. Okay, then you discover that you're in the middle of a homicide setting. You call a friend? My personal opinion is you do if you need help cleaning up drug paraphenalia and other incriminating evidence. That should take about 45 minutes to an hour.


• You're the best friend of Steve McNair. You call 911 after an hour's delay and you don't know the address of where you are, although you own the property?


• McNair is shot in the left temple, then the right temple and twice in the chest. A twenty year old girl who is distraught is going to shoot her cheating boyfriend in that fashion? I don't think so. I could accept it if it were the shots in the chest OR a shot to the head. NOT execution style. Seems to me that this has the markings of a gang/mob murder.


• Seems to me that McNair was worth more dead than alive. Who could stand to gain from this? His "BFF?" business partners of the restaurant? who knows? Me thinks the cops are taking a "hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil" approach. Whether the restaurant is legit or a front for something else, it's going to be a goldmine. The target audience is true blue.


• Don't worry; the newscasters and the police have stated that we should remember the "good Steve McNair." And, people did just that.

Meanwhile, an impressionable, 20 year old girl got in over her head with a sports hero and was possibly caught in a crossfire. The embarrassment, shame and hurt his wife and family feel, the double life of a hyprocrite that has been discovered under the brightest of lights.

That is the legacy Steve McNair carries to the other side.

It's a damn shame.

The Definition Between Black and White becomes Muddled in Gray

Another untimely death...this time, one of my all-time favorite athletes, Steve McNair.

Steve McNair - 36 years old

I spent countless Sundays yelling at the top of my lungs for McNair and the Titans. He was amazing to watch, somewhat like watching a great dancer leaping midair and land gracefully to the amazement of the crowd. That is what he reminded me of.

He also reminded me that he was a great philanthropist. He made a point of hosting benefits for children and our community in Nashville.

He was the "go-to" guy; whether he was dispensing advice for new players or running a play to win the game in the final seconds of the game...

He seemed perfect in every way. His wife is beautiful, he has 4 sons who all seem to be very athletic and will most likely follow in his footsteps.

And, he had a girlfriend. This isn't the first time, I'm sure. The news of his death has been difficult for Nashville's citizens because of the perfect persona they know on the field and off.

In the movies, the good guys always wear white. The difference between black and white isn't hard to distinguish, he was a good guy. However, I can see where those closest to him could see the difference between black and white becoming a muddled gray.

Rest in Peace, Steve, #9.

More Musings Later-

P-Diddy and Rheumy-V

If you haven't picked up on it, I give nicknames to the ailments I have, hence "P-Diddy" which is short for Parkinson's Disease and "RV or Rheumy-V" for Rheumatoid Vasculitis.

Found out that in addition to the lovely Vasculitis, I have Rheumatoid Arthritis as well. I can hardly wait for the gnarling of my fingers to come! Just a little joke. And, believe me, after being on steroids for...I've lost count of how many days, I'm feeling punch drunk.

Without further adieu, some good ole' self-deprecating humor:

Contributed by Dianne Shaw, 2006

Vasculitis Humor

"It's time to take Prednisone AGAIN?

You know you have vasculitis when:

* Any conversation can suddenly turn into a round of "Charades".

* A "good hair day" is when you realize you have some left.

* You tell your kid to "clean up the floor" and they just get the broom out and start sweeping.

* You make a grocery list so you won't forget anything, and then forget where you put the list. * (On a REALLY bad day you also forget where the grocery store is!)

* You bathe the lawn, fertilize the dog, and brush the kids.

* You use the smoke detector to tell you when dinner is done.

* You try to type and discover that you've invented a whole new language.

* You keep sunscreen by every door.

* Getting some fresh air means sitting near an open shady window.

* You have a temperature and moisture-controlled room for keeping your large quantity of meds.

* You're the only one who believes you're THAT sick.

* You sit in the car for three hours wondering what you needed to do, not even sure where you are.

* Someone asks you what vasculitis is and you've forgotten.

* It takes so long to get one project done, because in the meantime you've been distracted by at least a million other things.

* You put the ice cream in the cupboard (and then wonder why somebody else did something THAT stupid).

* You know every doctor, nurse, within 50 miles of your home - AND you've financed most of their vacations.

* The pharmacist sees you coming down the aisle and doesn't even have to ask your name.

* You decide to buy stock in pharmaceutical companies (because you buy their products so much they ought to make lots of money) but you can't afford to invest (for the same reason).

Take my constricted blood vessels please! (Bah-dump-bump)

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Parkinson Disease Humor

is that dyskinesia or are you just glad to see me?" ....."I think she likes me; she's been staring at me all evening!" ......"we take drugs pretty seriously at our house".. ....."hey, looks like somebody got their prescription filled recently!" ........and I said to her, "As long as you're feeling dyskinetic, how 'bout getting started on that butter-churning"? ..........so I asked him, "Why don't we go to your place and you can show me all those child-proof containers you're always talking about?"

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Favorite T-Shirts about PD:

"I have Parkinson's not cooties"

"Levadopa, Breakfast of Champions"

Favorite Rheumatoid Arthritis T-Shirts:

"My immune system attacks itself, what does yours do?"

Ya gotta laugh, right? Time for more steroids.

More Musings Later-

The Many Faces of Michael Jackson

Unless you've been under a rock, you know that Michael Jackson has died. I have conflicted feelings about Michael. I'm sorry to see such a gifted performer and musician pass away, but he had a host of troubles that he carried upon his shoulders, most notably being accused of being a pedophile.

The 12 year old prodigy appearing "normal"

This man, who in the end had so many plastic surgeries that it could be considered self-mutilation, was constantly scrutinized and accused of being a pedophile. A troubling and probable accusation. This odd man who had the heart of Peter Pan and behaved much like a 10 year old instead of his age transformed not only the music industry, but his looks as well. It was like a train wreck, you couldn't help but watch his face literally start to disintegrate.

The subtle transformation is taking place

His breathy, high pitched voice along with his hairstyle, lipstick, makeup and carefully arched eyebrows implied he considered himself to be transgendered. When actually, except for the boys; he seemed asexual. Yet, when he danced, he became overtly sexual...his movements were lightening fast and his singing perfectly phrased. But, that is only from the observations of one writer.

The waxy, strange look from too many plastic surgeries (self-mutilation)

He must have had a good heart, as many friends were devastated to learn of his untimely death. But, there is more to the story than the sadness of a child prodigy grown up and dying too soon. As Liza Minnelli and Deepok Chopra told CNN: "I'm glad we're celebrating his life and music now, because when the autopsy comes back, all hell is going to break lose."

His face is a dichotomy. Beard stubble is visible yet his makeup is impeccable along with the carefully plucked and shaped eyebrows. And his nose...what do you say?

Many are comparing his death to Anna Nicole Smith and Elvis Presley. They too, were very sad people who hid their addictions and meds from the public. Elvis even defending his drug use as the drugs being prescribed for him by his doctor. My feelings are mixed about Michael. From all the evidence presented, it seems obvious that he was a pedophile. How do you reconcile your feelings of respect for such a gifted artist when he abused innocent children? He should have been thrown in jail for his actions...I find myself struggling with his choices and how we should remember him. I, too am a dichotomy of my respect and admiration of Michael Jackson. He succumbed to drugs, regardless of his feeling that they were "prescribed."

A true artist.

Surely a doctor wouldn't resort to being a well-paid drug dealer now, would he? Sometimes the almighty dollar is just too tempting. Even if it results in the premature death of those addicted.

Sometimes the almighty dollar is just too tempting.

Even if it results in the premature death of those addicted.

More Musings Later- RIP MJJ

Otalia!

For those of you who don't watch Guiding Light the soap opera, I give you permission to skip this post. Although, you might want to find out what "Otalia" is!

For the first time in fictional Springfield, there is a plotline where 2 women on the show are discovering that they are in love with each other. Here's the kicker; they aren't really gay because this is the first experience and they don't understand it as they have always been with men. In real life, both women are straight, married and have children. Yet, on screen, they are acting their butts off!

In a day and age where so much homophobia runs rampant, it is truly a breath of fresh air to watch 2 successful, intelligent women play the role with such conviction and honesty. I especially appreciate the fact that their characters are floored about what is happening, but they can't deny what they feel. One woman's name is "Olivia" and the other is "Natalia". Hence, combining them for "Otalia."

I HATE the fact that Guiding Light is going off the air...I'm hoping they get picked up by some other network as I don't want to see the plot die. Oh well, for a soap cancellation, I guess it is fitting to see it end....I'm so depressed.

Yes, still on steroids.

More Musings Later-

I Don't Get It...

Last night, I was flipping through the channels on TV and of course, nothing was on. (Cue Bruce Springsteen's "Fifty-Seven Channels and nothing's on music)

I finally resigned myself to watch "The Bachelorette" especially since a friend was telling me that she LOOOOOVVVVVED the show. Heck, maybe it will be something decent to watch. So, I began to watch it and this woman had the task of picking between 6 or 7 men. (I lost count). When I realized it was a reality show, I could feel my eyes begin to glaze over.

Anyway, they were in Alaska (cue various Sarah Palin clips) and she was "speed dating" each one of these guys. Then, there came a point where she had to kick one guy out of the competition. She began to boo-hoo and the guy was all upset. You would have thought they had been dating for years, for God's sake. So, he's booted off and the other guys are acting like school girls, squealing about who would be next?

Then she began quizzing each guy one on one. Do you want kids? Do you want marriage? Do you blah blah blah blah blah blah.

They all started out, "I feel myself falling in love with you and yes, I want kids and Yes I want blah blah blah blah blah blah.

HELLO???? "I FEEL MYSELF FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU???" These people have known each other for a matter of days! You're in LOVE???? Give me a break.

Here's the kicker: The woman dumped the one guy because, "He didn't make a good living and she wants someone that makes alot of money."

Uh....what's wrong with YOUR hands and feet, Barbie?? Don't mooch off of someone else! Get over yourself woman!!!!!!

Did I mention that am still on steroids?

More Musings Later-

Run! I'm on S T E R O I D S

That's no lie. If you've been following this blog, you know that I periodically take steroids. Have you ever read the flipping warnings on the pill label? It ain't pretty.

"Prednisone is a drug that's commonly used to treat a wide variety of diseases. Common side effects include mood swings, increased hair growth, facial "mooning" (also known as "chipmunk cheeks"), increased appetite, night sweats, acne, headaches, weight gain, and many more too numerous to list here. Long-term use could result in steroid dependency and bone density loss."

Shall we sing a round of "I Feel Pretty?" Jeez my knees. After being on mega doses in the hospital last year, I found out that I have a lovely array of side effects!

This looked alot like me when I was n the hospital on steroids.

Notice the attractive, yet crazy bugg-eyed look.

Have you seen some of the people that use steroids? Especially athletes...they go nuts!!!! Whereas, I might find it fitting to cry for 45 minutes over the idea that I must write an article. You never know with that stuff....it's crazy. And, it makes ME crazy.

YOU try putting on a bra while on steroids!

So, you can imagine my angst when the doctor took one look at my vasculitis ridden legs/feet and began scribbling that familar name: Prednisone. YUK. But, it does the trick somehow. So, if you see me out and about, RUN....it's for your own safety!

So far, my sense of humor is still intact.

More Musings Later-

Drowning in My Disillusionment

Disillusionment: noun, rude awakening, lost innocence.

Yep, that sums up just a portion of my feelings about my experience June 8, 2009. I won't bore everyone with details, I'll simply say that I was in court yesterday and I am still reeling over the treatment my partner and I received. Especially my partner...

When we entered the courtroom, I knew we were in trouble. I immediately recognized "the good ole boys club" of lawyers milling about slapping the other on the back and belly laughing while talking about college football. I mean, I did grow up in Texas, hello?

We enter the courtroom: Me on a cane and my partner. We walk to the nearest bench and sit, keenly aware that the loud belly laughing has subsided while low talking and long stares ensued.

Homophobic: homo·phobic adj.:

1. Fear of or contempt for lesbians and gay men.
2. Behavior based on such a feeling.

Please let me be clear; I expected nothing less from good ole boy lawyers. My source of contention was with the judge. The court case was scheduled to be first, but the judge kept pushing it back. I had noticed that the judge kept staring at me during the day, I was tired due to my Parkinson's meds. I continued to listen silently. This continued until all cases were tried and or resolved which left the opposing party and ourselves as the only ones in the room.

I can't and won't go into detail, but the judge was obviously homophobic. The judge made every attempt to speak in a condescending tone, shout at us with sarcasm and treated us with such disrespect while snickering to the clerks and lawyer. Meanwhile, the opposing party was treated with professionalism and the other citizens were treated with respect and care. Once we were alone in this courtroom (amid the court clerk, baliff and lawyer) This judge completely morphed into a domineering, hateful and biased person who was of course, in complete authority. How shrewd of this judge to wait until everyone vacated the courtroom. This enabled the mayhem without being held accountable. As we left the room bewildered and upset, I felt my eyes sting as if I had been exposed to toxic fumes.

I usually don't get upset over this behavior...I usually get angry. But, here we are, American, taxpaying, law abiding citizens and we were treated as if we were murderers in a court of law. To know that a judge in America can treat 2 citizens this way, in THIS day and age, boggles my mind. This kind of treatment is not just hurtful, it's scary.

I've lost whatever respect I had for our judicial system. Even though I have cried about this, I'm still drowning in my disillusionment.

More Musings Later-