Java, filter set to "random"

This must be the trick to actually writing a blog post, rather than just thinking about what you'll say in a blog post: when first you connect to the interwebs, do not open ANY other windows. Just the blogger "new post" window. That's all. Whatever you do, don't open email or facebork or Pinterest.

OMG Pinterest. It's a deep winding rabbit hole.

Why does habit have one "b" when rabbit has two?

So I went to the grocery store this morning. Well, it seemed like morning to me, but I didn't get my lazy ass out of bed until 11:00 so there you go. There's a new Mal-Wart on our side of town. I may have mentioned it before, I don't know. It's closer, and cleaner. Being new and all.

And guess who I ran into at Mal-Wart!? Mrs. Betty B! I haven't seen her in a few years, not since we stopped going to church about nine years ago. She said we should come visit the church, and I asked "Even if I'm apostate?" She smiled at me and said "Oh heavens! Why would you say that?" I just smiled. I saw her property on the map the other day and thought of her, wondered if she was even still alive. She's been old as long as I've known her (20 years, approximately) but she's still going strong, living independently, going to church. She's a sweet thing. I told her honestly that I love her.

I've been somewhat reclusive recently. If I have to go out for an appointment or something, I go. And while I'm out I might run another errand or two. Otherwise I stay home. This morning I got dressed and since I was dressed anyway I went to the store. We were out of bread. And sour cream. And, evidently, Little Debbie Nutty Bars, because they followed me home.

And Cheerios. I got the store brand of oat loops or whatever they're called from Aldi recently. They don't taste like real Cheerios. I've gotten the honey nut cereal, and the Aldi brand is OK, but has lots of sugar and I'm trying to cut back. (Pay no attention to the Nutty Bars behind the curtain.) So there I was in the cereal aisle (my but that's an odd word) looking for genuine General Mills Cheerios like Grandma used to make serve. Used to be you could walk down the cereal aisle and causally pick up the yellow box that says "Cheerios". Now there are at least half a dozen (I didn't count) different kinds of Cheerios. Even chocolate ones! Now I love chocolate, as you should know by now, but chocolate Cheerios seems mighty close to an abomination to me. Multi-grain are pretty good, actually, and of course there's the honey nut. I can't remember what other flavors I saw. Not counting the store brand and other brand oat Os. Goodness. Thankfully the original plain Cheerios still come in the familiar yellow box.

Mrs. Betty B asked after the family, of course. " So-and-so asked after ______" is a common southernism. Do y'all say it that way up North? Yes, we're doing well. Superman still works where he has since we moved here, Light is in Pennsylvania finishing her graduate degree. Twitch is at the local Arby's. Diva moved to be with her birth mother, which is a good thing (I hasten to tell her). Poor ol' Sproing has made some poor decisions and is awaiting trail at the county jail. Oh, poor Mrs. Betty B got so concerned. I hated to worry her so. Though she didn't say so, I'm pretty sure she'll pray for us. She's a sweet old thing, and I'm happy to have run into her.

Last weekend we visited the in-laws. It didn't even hurt too much. Actually, I behaved myself admirably. Everyone had other things to talk about and I'm good at the "smile and nod" thing. I can even ask pertinent questions sometimes. At one point the mil scolded Superman and gave him advice about Twitch. That was uncomfortable for both of us (probably not mil, though). I knat a little bit, starting a slouch hat/beanie thing. We saw the nieces, too. They are charming. The youngest one (in her first year of college) has potential to be a very interesting person. With her mother sitting beside her and in the presence of the grands, we were restricted to "polite" conversation.

I'll tell you something funny. My sister-in-law... well, she's a nice lady with many fine qualities. Very morally upright. She came in the house when I was in the back somewhere. She stood by the kitchen table, and when I came up the hall I saw her there, in high heeled boots (modest, mind you) and her hair all big like usual, makeup in top order. She's lost some weight so her midsection is nicely proportioned. She still has a considerable bust, which her fashionable clothing accentuated. With my glasses still on order I wore my contacts, which I'm not as accustomed to. My sil looked for all the world like a drag queen standing there in the kitchen. Oh but it was hard not to laugh! And of course I couldn't say anything about it, not in that company.

As I said, I've been reclusive recently. That means I've been in my room most of the time, reading books or being sucked down the interweb tube. Oh, and watching a little bit of the baseball playoff games. I am happy the Cubs won the National League Central Division title. Other than that, not much.

I watched the movie Boulevard, starring Robin Williams. I didn't know before I watched it, but it is an LGBT themed story. Bit of a tragic story, very well done. A serious role for Mr. Williams. He did those well. I mourn his passing. I just rented Night at the Museum - Secret of the Tomb, mainly to see him again.

And that's all I know.

Rolling Along

So I saw my doctor last week. She's leaving us!! This is the PA who came in when our long time family physician retired. I'm despondent. Anyway, she came into the exam room and noticed immediately that I look better, as in less stressed and stuff. So yeah, having those two young people out of my house is a good thing. But we knew that.

Last week I also saw my cancer doctor, the gynecological oncologist. He did a lab test thingie, the results of which I haven't heard yet, but the physical exam looked real good, he said. So onward and upward, or something.

Oh, there was this hurricane thing that happened out in the Atlantic east of here. South Carolina is all in the news about terrible flooding, the worst in 1000 years or something. Well, I'm fine. The yard is pretty sodden, the dog comes in from the back yard with mud on his paws. Otherwise, it's all good. That cannot be said about much of the state; check the news sources for details. The Java household is relatively unscathed.

Superman went with me to see the cancer doctor, because he's all concerned and stuff. We stopped for lunch at Panera, a treat because we have no such goodness here in Greenwood. And on the way home we got a call from Diva's birth mother Janice. Diva had broken one of Janice's rules and they had an animated disagreement about it. Diva had a boy over to the house while Janice was at work. OK, for me, when Diva lived here, that was not something I'd fuss about. She's going to do it anyway and I don't want to argue over that. Just not worth it to me. But not Janice. Don't know for sure why she called us, but we got an earful. And Janice said this was Diva's second strike. One more blatant disobedience and she was out. Well, I told her that Diva needs to find somewhere up there to live, someone else to live with, because we aren't taking her back. HA! I felt so strong.

Diva was nonchalant about having the boy over, about breaking a strict rule. I think that made Janice as mad as anything else. Diva doesn't like the rule, so she ignores it. It doesn't apply to her. She is above the rules. That child is gonna get into some big trouble one of these days. I am SO GLAD she doesn't live here anymore! While we were on the phone with them, I felt my heart rate increase. Perhaps my blood pressure went up too, I don't know. But there was this "ugh" feeling in my chest just listening to her holler. She was screaming at Janice as Janice was talking to us. *shudder*

We got a letter in today's mail informing us of Sproing's preliminary hearing to be held the afternoon of 20 October. I don't know how long after the preliminary hearing he'll have his trial. I hope they keep him in jail past his birthday in January. I don't want to deal with him, either.

So Superman and I are planning to visit his parents this weekend. These people are my in-laws, bless their hearts. I can do a couple of hours at a time with them and be fine. We're spending two days there, though. My mother-in-law and I are so very different. (My Mama and I are very different, too, but in different ways.) I'm easily annoyed by the m-i-l. For instance, she asked Superman yesterday what time we'd be arriving on Friday. (He's taking the day off work, so we'll leave here Friday.) Well, gosh, I don't know what time we'll get there! I don't know what time we'll leave here. It depends on how the morning rolls. I'm not a big planner. She is. And if we give her an estimate, she will expect us to be there exactly then.

If she was the one making the trip, she'd be all packed up the night before, everything in the car, probably. She'd set the alarm clock to get up precisely at (whatever time she thinks appropriate). A quick breakfast would transpire, and they'd be out the door and on their way at precisely the time she planned. And she'd show up on our doorstep at precisely the time (give or take 5 minutes, no more for sure) she said she'd be here. And expect me to have a full meal (meat and three, dessert, etc.) ready to go on the table as soon as they pull up. And berate me if everything wasn't ready, even if I'd cut my thumb so bad it needed stitches whilst preparing said meal. (True story there) And I, being the ever patient loving daughter-in-law that I am (-rolls eyes-) would refrain from telling her that if she doesn't like what's here, there's a Burger King just around the corner and she can get the fuck out of my house. No, I did not say that, but I thought it. I took a deep breath and turned away from her. And I finally got dinner on the table maybe half an hour later (don't remember exactly; it was a good 20 years ago), still with my bleeding thumb wrapped in a rag. And I ate dinner with them with my thumb throbbing. Then I went to the doctor's office to have it stitched up.

I may have some lingering animosity about that event. I still have the scar on my thumb.

She really is a very nice lady.  A fine person, thoughtful and hard working. We just have different priorities, different perspectives on the world. And very different sociopolitical philosophies. My stars, there are so many things we can't discuss when we're visiting them. And I can't cuss, either. Thankfully there was this hurricane thing this past weekend, so that'll give us a safe topic to discuss. I will, however, most likely go to the Baptist Church on Sunday morning. That should be... fun. I like the singing. It only lasts an hour.

This afternoon I mentioned to Superman my qualms about the upcoming visit. He said "You have put up with Diva and Sproing for all these years. You can deal with anything." I appreciate his faith in me.

Once again, here I am

So much has happened, but my heart hasn't been into the writing of it. However, I want to stay in contact with this blog. And damn it all, as so often happens once I get to this point all my ideas flee my head.

I think I need a nap.

I took a nap. Some time passed between those last two sentences.

Diva is once again living with her birth mother in Spartanburg. Her bedroom here has been transformed. First of all, Cory did a spiritual cleansing (and physical cleaning) of the space.

Wait, who's Cory? you ask. I have previously referred to him a C. He's the young man who started my whole gay journey, the one who moved in with us at age 17 when he came out to his mom and she kicked him out of her home. He has lived here off and on for the last almost ten years. And oh yeah, he has moved back in as of the 31st of August. Just a week or so after Diva left, coincidentally.

So, Diva's room: it got cleaned and cleansed, then Superman and I painted it blue. It's never been blue before, not since we've lived here. It's been green, pink and purple, yellow and purple, but not blue. After the distructo-child lived there, poisoning it with her hatred, that room needed a big change. It looks damned good, if I do say so myself. Cory lives there now. Diva knows she no longer has a room here, which hopefully will encourage her to NOT COME BACK!!

Now, for Sproing. He's in jail. Big people jail, not kiddie jail. The first day of school for the kids here was the 17th of August. Sproing skipped school that day and, unbeknownst to me, went with a friend of his to the home of another acquaintance and burgled the house. They broke in through a window and stole not one but two Play Stations (PS4s, I think). Plus the peripherals like cords, controllers and a couple of games. That was a Monday. That Thursday a couple of detectives from the police department came by to ask if I knew anything. I had seen the things, not knowing from whence they came. So the detectives went to the school and "interviewed" Sproing. He was taken to the county detention center from there and I haven't seen him since. He's been charged with second degree burglary and grand larceny (>$2000 but < $10,000).  I requested that he be kept there rather than let out on bail. The judge set his bail at $30,000. So there he sits.

Actually he is supposed to be in court tomorrow on his charge of credit card fraud for stealing almost $900 from us. I'm not going to worry about it. If they need him there, they'll have to walk him across the street from the detention center to the court house. I'm not sure when he's to appear for the new burglary and larceny charges. I'm not the victim on record for those.

And here's the thing. For a long time I've had hope for that kid. He's relatively intelligent. Stupid as shit in the unwise sense, but smart otherwise. He also talks a good talk. He's been stringing me along all summer, promising to look for a job and making a show of it, but not really doing anything. He said all sorts of inspiring things about starting school and being on track, etc. He had a conference with his guidance counselor the second day of school. They made grand plans for him to graduate next January, just half a year behind schedule. He sounded good. But the day before that discussion he had seriously broken the law.

He betrayed me. Or I allowed myself to be hoodwinked and thus feel betrayed. Diva has been a hot mess for the longest time and I have little hope of her being a responsible citizen, but I thought Spoing had the stuff to deliver.

So I am D O N E with him. I'm angry and hurt. I spoke to him on the phone a couple of times the first week he was incarcerated. He wanted me to arrange a meeting with the judge to try to work something out so he could be out on bail. HA! I said No. He's been there three weeks as of today. Funny, it seems like longer. Hmph, probably feels like longer to him, too. GOOD!! Anyway, I wrote him a letter yesterday and sent $20 (in a Postal Money Order only) for his canteen account. I called the jail to ask how I could visit him, and the nice lady said I had to be on an approved visitor list; he has to add me, but he needs to know my name, birth date, phone number, and drivers license number. Yeah, he won't know that one. But I asked about sending him stamps and envelopes so he can write to me, but she said nope. I can send money and he can buy those supplies in the canteen. So I sent some money. Which he'll probably spend on chips and soda. Anyway, I'll call in a few days and see if I'm on his visitor list. I'm about ready to talk to him again, but have only recently reached this point. Superman isn't ready to talk to him yet.

If he ends up staying in jail until (or past) January 24th, he won't move back home. That's his 18th birthday, and after he's 18 we aren't legally obligated to providing a home for him. Since he confessed to his involvement with the burglary I guess he'll plead guilty unless he gets a public defender who convinces him otherwise. The stolen goods were retrieved from this house, though, where he said he'd hid them, so I don't think he has a defense. Anyway, if convicted I predict he'll spend at least 12 months in jail, maybe more. He's in the county jail now. After conviction, though, I don't know if he'll stay in the jail or go to prison. As I was recently informed, there's a difference.

I never thought I'd be having this discussion about one of my children. It turns my stomach.

So the house has been peaceful for a couple of weeks since Diva left. Twitch is here still, and Cory's here now. They are so much more calm than Diva and Sproing! My life has, for now anyway, eased somewhat. The stress level is much lower. I'm still in shock, or something like it. Don't think I'll relax until both of them turn 18. Diva hits the big "adult" on 4 December.

In the meantime I'm not sure what I'm doing. Working on Diva's room was helpful. Actually I got to go through all her stuff. She'd left everything at the home of a friend when she left for Spartanburg, and Superman retrieved it from there. We had it here for a few days before we were "able" to get it to her. I cleaned out a lot of junk. Seriously, empty shampoo and deodorant containers? I had Cory go through her shirts to get rid of what he thought was unsuitable. I wanted that done but wasn't quite able to do it myself. Now it's all NOT in my house. I went through Sproing's stuff too. He has significantly less than she did.

The next project is to make changes to his old room similar to what we did to hers. Not sure what color(s) to paint it. Diva's room is light smoky blue on three walls, slightly darker on the 4th wall. We might do something like that with the colors for Sproing's old room, or paint it one color. Do any of you have suggestions? I won't go with purple again, not that I don't (or didn't) like that color, but after Diva it has some negative associations for me. Also no red. I don't do red, not in large swaths like that.

I'm rambling. I want to comment on Jay's suicide, but I'm not sure what to say. It hurts. Hurts more this week than it did last week, for some reason. As I said to a couple of other bloggers, it's a tragic situation all around.

I've had trouble this week getting anything done. Tuesday was somewhat productive, but yesterday and today I haven't done jack. Can't seem to get myself out of bed. I finally showered at 5:15 yesterday evening. Haven't bathed today. I did get dressed, though. Yay me. I made a list Tuesday of things to do yesterday. And there it sits, waiting for me to do something. Maybe tomorrow.

And that's about all I have to say right now. Writing this blog post has been the most productive thing I've done today. I'm gonna call that a win.

A little diversion

This guy is part madman, part genius. Not sure what the percentages are, though.

I'm blogstipated

I don't post often enough so when I finally sit down to write, there's so much to say it gets too long and I forget some of what I wanted to say. And other problems, but I forgot them just now.

Last week Twitch was transferred back to the Greenwood store (Arby's) so we no longer have to make that long drive to Simpsonville. What a relief! I actually like the drive sometimes, but not when it's so hot, and not four times a day. So now I'm glad he didn't get an apartment there.

Diva is a hot mess, as usual. She got this internship thing at a hair salon, then never went. She's being her old crazy self again, and not being nice to me very often. I don't want to talk about it.

Let's see... Sproing. He's an ass. Hangs around the house most of the day with his friends, playing video games and talking shit. He tells me he has a lead on one job or another nearly every day, but nothing ever becomes of it. Yes, he's taking advantage of me. Again. Still.

Light's birthday is Friday. She'll be 26. She's been in my dreams recently, but as a small child. Sometimes she's under 2 years old, sometimes she's pre-teen. Sometimes my other children are in the dreams too. She was such a lovely child. I miss that.

Superman and I were in Target yesterday and saw some cute dresses for little girls. I like the idea of sweet little girls, ages approximately 3-7, but the reality can be gritty. I know from experience. Maybe I'm ready for grandparenthood. Thing is, none of my children is ready for parenthood, so let's just skip it for now.

Here's the segue to the next topic:

Sproing hangs out in the living room most of the day. Whenever I go through there I get a pang of melancholy or something in the middle of my chest. Melancholy doesn't really begin to describe it. It's sadder and more anxious than my concept of melancholy. Whatever, it isn't pretty. This ball of burning lead in my chest saps my motivation right out of me.

I've said before that I am a hoarder. I want to clear out a lot of this junk in my life, but there is a strong emotional component to this mess. I'm a mess. For months I've been staring at these shelves in my bedroom. Just those two over there, not that big bookshelf on that side of the room. No, not that one up there either. Let's for a moment ignore the one(s) behind me. Just these two little (OK, not so little) shelves on top of my two drawer filing cabinet. (Now I want to create a diversion by telling you how wonderful my filing cabinet is, but that's just an unhealthy coping strategy, so let's not go there.) So this morning, feeling like accomplishing something, I started on the first cubby. (The unit has four cubbies, two small and two large. And the top of the shelf. And all that crap in front of it.) I got everything except the really big unabridged dictionary cleaned out! I even threw some of it away! Go me! But OMG I'm now approaching a nervous anxiety attack. Walking through the living room made it worse. I'm hydrating, and I had a V-8, hoping vegetables will help my body deal. I can write coherent sentences (I think) so it could be worse. It could also be a lot better.

Papers from my college art classes were in that cubby. Some sketch books, some notes and communications from the class. I took those classes only about five years ago. It seems like a long time now. There was a note from my professor encouraging me to continue my art education because he sees a lot of promise/potential. All the gods have mercy upon me!! I want to! So much! I remember I cried when I first got that note from him, and I cried again when I read it today. I'm currently helpless, (well, probably not completely) hopelessly entangled in the trappings of my life, unable to exercise my creativity.

Actually, one of the things I want to do today is sew. I have a new dress completely cut out and ready to sew together. I've started sewing a shirt and want to get back to it. But do you know how close my sewing room/office is to the living room where the "chaps" are hanging? I can't go there. Gads, I feel so helpless and weak and stupid.

In other, lighter news, I broke a tooth over the weekend. For those of you keeping score at home, it's the bottom right, third tooth from the end. I have no wisdom teeth anymore, so don't count that. A piece of the tooth sheared off the side between the teeth. It's stuck between the teeth now, and shifts around when I chew on that side. Feels really strange. I broke it while eating cornbread. Soft, fluffy, oh so good cornbread. Or at least that's when I noticed it. I was also eating soup. Soup with nothing hard in it. I have no idea how it broke. I suspect there's a filling in that tooth and it popped off beside the filling. Thankfully it doesn't hurt. I have an appointment with my dentist tomorrow midday.

This is about all I have the emotional energy to write right now. Have a good July.

This is pretty

Contemporary Duvet Covers And Duvet Sets by Denver Furniture & Accessories DENY Designs

There is a lot to say, but I'm not going to go into all of it now.

Diva is doing well. She's working at the Voc Rehab training center and just got an internship at a hair salon.

Twitch is a manager trainee at Arby's, now working in Simpsonville, SC but still living at home. No car, no drivers license. Which means I'm still driving him an hour one way to work and back. Four hours a day in my non-air-conditioned truck. I'm getting a driver's tan - just the left arm and left side of my face. Reminds me of the old bus driving days. Twitch is supposed to be looking for housing close to work. He has a couple of contacts, but things are going slow.

Sproing is a pain in my ass. In my last post (a long time ago) I told you about him stealing Superman's debit card and going on a Wal-Mart spending spree. Since then we discovered he's been using one of Superman's credit cards to order things from Amazon. All tolled he's stolen about $900. Yes, we filed a complaint with law enforcement. He goes to trial (or whatever it is) on the 5th of August. Or perhaps he'll just go back to kiddie jail. We saw his DJJ probation officer last week. She gave him 20 hours of community service. She also said he's on her short list. If he steps out of line again she's sending him back before the family court judge who will likely put him back in kiddie jail for a while. We shall see.

Mostly, when not driving back and forth to Simpsonville, I have been binge watching back seasons of Criminal Minds on Netflix. Love Netflix!

The continuing saga

My Braves haven't been playing so well recently. I had to turn the game off in the seventh inning last night because it got too pathetic. It's the top of the first inning and their opponents (Cincinnati Reds tonight) just scored two runs. I know my boys can do better than this. But enough about baseball.

I had some COFFEE this Afternoon!! With CAFFEINE! WEEEEEEEEE!!!

Twitch has been transferred to the store in Simpsonville (Arby's). It's an hour away. He has no car, no drivers license. He's got the learners permit, and has been driving Superman's truck with me in the shotgun position. I actually enjoy the drive, or have come to feel that way about it this week. I like it better when I drive. He's not too bad at driving, but he's new and nervous, and I like being behind the wheel when I'm in the car, you know? Today we took my truck, which is a piece of shit with a manual transmission which Twitch doesn't know how to drive. I like my truck better. The thing is, it takes an hour one way to get to Simpsonville and uses a bunch of gas. I drive back home, only to go back to get him six to eight hours later. That's a LOT of gas. Which costs a lot of money. He's helping with the expense, but not as much as all of it. I'm trying to get him to save so he can secure housing in that area. I've spent four hours on the road every day this week. I have mixed feelings about this.

The poor guy (Twitch) had to work ten hours today. I got there an hour before he got off, not realizing he would work that late. It all worked out well, though, because I'm easy that way. I needed some new shoes anyway and hadn't yet found a chance to shop. There's a shoe store half a mile up the road from Twitch's shop, so I wandered up there and had my favorite kind of shoe shopping experience. This is a representation of what I bought.

(One beer down) I asked the nice sales associate lady for those old fashion ugly Crocs. She said they only had that style in mens, which is fine by me. She showed me what they had, three different colors/styles. The camo print was an easy elimination. The other shoe was brown with a leather (or leather look) patch on the top of the upper. It was $15 more than the black ones. Though they had the brown in a size 7 (my size in mens shoes) and the smallest size black was an 8. I tried them both on, and went with the 8. Crocs are supposed to be kinda loose anyway, right? And it has that strap thing on the back that helps keep the shoe on. So it's all good. I told the friendly sales lady that ugly and old fashioned was kinda my style. You know, I'm so fashion backward. So I got a pair of shoes I like for less than $35 and took less than ten minutes to complete the entire shoe shopping experience. Yeah, that's how I like to shop. I feel good! (The caffeine and beer help. 'Bout to start on my second beer, so watch out!) 

After the wonderful shoe shopping experience I stopped by Starbucks. I don't think I've been inside a Starbucks in at least two years. I got myself a short "tall" black coffee, then went back to the Arby's where I bought the last chocolate turnover. Man, those Arby's folks have the best turnovers, and the chocolate is extraordinary. Been wanting one of those for a while now. 

Oh, and in other news, the weight loss thing isn't going so well. For example, there's an IHOP beside the Arby's. Twitch has had to be at work at 8:00 every morning this week, but Arby's isn't open for breakfast. Leaving home before 7:00 hasn't given me the opportunity to eat before leaving. So twice this week I had the Bananas Foster Brioche French Toast at IHOP. Oh boy.

I mean look at that. Who could resist? Who knew warm bananas could taste so good? 

I recommend them if you aren't trying to control your BMI. So good! I got myself a bowl of cereal before leaving this morning, so was able to forego the cost and calories of that particular temptation today. Then I had a chocolate turnover this afternoon. In my defense (which isn't a good defense, by the way) I had a V-8 for lunch. *sigh*

Half way through the second beer. Feelin' good! I haven't been drinking much recently, like less than a beer a day. Maybe two or three beers a week. So two beers has a bigger impact. Oh, further along on that beer than I thought: just finished it. Weeee! And now I don't even care that the Braves are playing like shit. My tongue is going numb. Nice buzz.

Superman is on his way home from work. Yes, it's 8:40 on a Friday night. He's been working a lot of long hours recently. The plant just had a power surge and he lost the PowerPoint he'd been working on for over an hour, so he's chucking the whole thing and coming home. I suspect he'll have to spend a couple (or more) hours at work tomorrow.

What else? I suppose I could update the Sproing drama. Yesterday was hell. Did I mention in my last post that he'd been before the judge on the ... wait a minute. Let me check the last post and see if you are up to date with his latest criminal activity. (insert Jeopardy "wait" music)  Nope. That last post was written before his latest criminal activity. Last weekend he stole Superman's debit card, took it to Wal-Mart and spent approximately $150. When this breach of trust was discovered, we called the police. Because DAMN! We live in the city, Wal-Mart is in the county outside city limits. So to make life more difficult (because damn) the offense has been divided between city police and county sheriff's departments. The theft of the card is a police matter, the use of it is sheriff's domain. He's had his arraignment with the city. We're waiting on the sheriff's warrant, when we'll have to see a different judge because fuck my life. The municipal judge considered putting Sproing in jail, but released him on a personal recognizance bond of $5000, with restrictions. The judge, bless his heart, wrote his direct phone number on our copy of the paperwork.  If the boy gives me any grief I can call the judge and he'll revoke Sproing's bond, sending him to jail until his June 5th court date.

Well, yesterday Sproing was being an ass, at which he has a special gift. I asked him to fold and put away the load of towels in the dryer. Oh. My. God. You'd have thought I asked him to donate a kidney. After the judge had a serious talk with him about doing the right thing and respecting his Mama. And it got worse from there. I finally told him that I was done, and would call the judge tomorrow. (Which was today, for the record) He kinda freaked. (What the fuck. What does he expect?) Then he (Sproing) asked to talk to the sheriff's detective who questioned him about the charge, a guy who used to be the resource officer at the high school. Evidently Sproing feels comfortable with the man. So I called the sheriff's department (at 9:00 in the evening) and asked for the detective to call me. Which he did. I'm impressed. He talked to Sproing, calmed him down. After the conversation Sproing was way more copacetic. He apologized and everything. So I had pity on him and didn't call the judge today. So far today he's been calm, but I've hardly interacted with him at all. He got home from school right before I left to pick up Twitch. When I got back I went to the beer and baseball, and Sproing is doing his thing away from my presence. So far so good. Tomorrow is Saturday and we'll probably have more opportunity to interact. Oh please oh please oh please let it be peaceful!

Sproing got the warrant from the city, which is what sent us to the municipal judge. He hasn't yet gotten the warrant from the county, though. Once he does, we'll have to go to another judge to repeat the process. I don't know how that'll work out.

Oh, and of course all this shit violates his probation with Juvenile Justice. I talked to his probation officer. She said she'd wait to see what the city and county do with him before taking any action. She thinks it'll work itself out without her having to interfere. You see, since he's 17 years old now, he's treated as an adult when he fucks up like this. DJJ is a secondary concern. Damn, I hate this. Sproing can be such a nifty guy. But he can also be a pain in the ass. As you have probably realized by now.

HA!! Braves won!! Finally. Maybe this portends good fortune for this weekend. In my life, not just for the Atlanta Braves. That'd be nice.

Today I've been in a good mood. Last night I felt like wringing Sproing's neck. Today I spent pretty much all day without Sproing, and got to drive my truck, which always makes me happy. I had a lovely almost three hour nap this morning when I got back from Simpsonville, finished my sappy gay romance novel, had a good shoe shopping experience, drank CAFFEINATED COFFee and ate chocolate yummies. And now the Braves have just won their game (yay, about damn time boys) and I've now had three beers. The buzz is strong in this one. Time to end this post, take a shower (because I'm kinda ripe) and kiss all over my husband who has finally gotten home from work. If there was anything else I meant to say in this post, well, it won't happen.

Until next time

Ten days after Sproing returns, plus other places my brain goes

Yeah, sorry it took so long to update the whole Sproing returns thing. It's been a busy week and a half.

Things are not, unfortunately, very different from before he left. We've had a few good days in a row here, but the first week was hell. He's arguing about almost everything. I try to have a discussion, a conversation, and he thinks I'm attacking him and responds accordingly. Yelling ensues. He has a problem with authority.

I took him to get his driver's license this week. That helped. Before he left he had a traffic ticket that he didn't pay. While he was in jail he got (delivered here, of course) a letter from the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) saying that he had to pay the ticket ($100) before stated date or turn over his license to the DMV. Of course he didn't pay it, being as he was in jail. And I sure as hell didn't pay it. Actually, I took his license to the DMV and turned it in. So Sproing had to pay the $100 ticket, then had to pay a $100 fee to get his license reinstated (or something like that) PLUS a $25 fee for the actual physical license. I helped him a little bit with those second fees, but not much. The $25 was a surprise to both of us.

Anyway, since getting his license he's been generally satisfied with life. Superman allows him to drive the truck. Sproing has so far been pretty good about keeping gas in the truck.

OK, here's another concern I have. Where is he getting this money? I asked. He said one of his friends has been giving him money for gas, but I have doubts about his story. If I press him for more details, I suspect he will go all ape-wild mad again. Perhaps I'll suggest to Superman that he question the boy.

In other news, Twitch is doing very well at Arby's. It isn't the job he wants, but it is the job he has and he's doing it well. The good news is that he's been promoted to manager. The bad news is he's being transferred to a store an hour away. That's actually good news in the long run, but problematic for the immediate. The idiot hasn't been saving money like he should have so he doesn't have enough money to move. And he doesn't have a car. He doesn't even have a driver's license. So far he's been able to hitch rides with coworkers. Next week there are two days when he has no ride to work. This is not cool. Mama doesn't like it. Mama doesn't want to drive two hours round trip twice a day. NOT the hip gig.

I got Sproing enrolled in school finally. He starts Monday. He's been assigned to the alternative school, but he's come in at an inopportune time. Standardized testing for his grade starts Tuesday, and he has to take the tests at the zoned school, his regular high school. He doesn't have any assigned classes there. He goes in Monday at 10:00 for about 1.5 hours for some kind of pre-testing thingie, then Tuesday and Wednesday he'll be there at 9:00 for a few hours. Possibly all day, I'm not sure. Getting him to and from school is going to interfere with Twitch's transportation needs, not to mention that I have to get Diva to and from her Adult Ed program from 8:30 to 11:30. And I can't just leave Sproing at the high school since he doesn't have any classes there. If the testing last long enough on Tuesday and Wednesday he can take the bus home. I hope that works.

Fortunately Sproing and Diva will be going to the same location once he's at the alternative school. Oh, they call that program "Refocus Academy." Doncha' love it? Anyhoo, the GED classes, though not affiliated with the school district, are held at the same campus as the alternative public school programs. They'll both start school at 8:30, then Diva leaves at 11:30. Sproing stays until 2:something. Maybe 2:30, I don't rightly recall.

In the intervening weeks since my last significant post, baseball season started. YAY!! My Braves have won some and lost some. Right now we're in the bottom of the 9th in Philadelphia (hi Denise) and we're up 5-2. We've lost our last five, maybe six games, so a win here will be especially nice. And we won! Lest you feel too bad for the Phillies, they won last night. We play the Phillies again tomorrow afternoon. I don't know who wins that game yet, you know, time being what it is.

I don't know. Perhaps my brain is finished with this post. There are other things I have thought about writing recently whilst doing something else, but I get here and they flee my mind.

Here's something. I've been fascinated with New Zealand. It's going on winter there. I have Dunedin, NZ programmed into my phone's weather app so I can trace winter's progress. I'm sad that our summer is approaching, as the heat really gets to me. And why New Zealand, you ask? Because of Anyta Sunday. She writes gay romance stories, and I read a lot of gay romance stories. I read other things, too, but I read a lot of gay romance. She is from New Zealand and a lot of her stories are set there. Why Dunedin, NZ you ask? That's the location of University of Otago, the setting of one of the stories I read recently. So, New Zealand. I'd like to go. Perhaps I'd like to study at the UofO. I like going to school. I'm not fond of some of the shit going on in my life here, and I'm not in school right now. I could run away to New Zealand and study at University of Otago. It's a fun thing to think about when I'm lying in bed not going to sleep at 3am.

Also, insomnia. But I don't want to talk about that right now.

Here's a video I just watched. I like this guy's educational videos.

The Return of Sproing

Good grief. I knew it had been a while since I posted, but over a month? I had no idea.

I am currently waiting to hear from Sproing. He is being sprung from kiddie jail today. Juvenile justice dept is transporting him to the county courthouse today, and he should be arriving any time now.

I'll check in later to let you know how everything pans out.

It's only Tuesday? I thought for sure it would be Friday by now.

 

Yo-yo. That's what she is. Or that's what she's doing to me, I don't know.
Yes, the Diva is back. This doesn't surprise you, does it? I hope not. We all should have predicted this. Hell, I did.

She seems to be back to stay, at least for a while. We discussed her continued education. On the advice of the student support specialist at the high school, we're looking into the adult education GED program at the alternative school. This seems to be the best bet for the child.

I am kinda depressed. It's hard to write much. By the way, I have an appointment with my therapist tomorrow (Wednesday) afternoon. Haven't seen her in a while, what with surgery and recovery and all. And boy, do I have a lot to share with her!

An old friend stopped by the house today. Wendell. I probably wrote about him a few years ago. He worked with Sproing for a while, teaching him how to be a decent human being. Don't know how well it worked, but oh well. Wendell is a fantastic fellow. He lives in Los Angeles now and works with a social service agency that targets people with at-risk behaviors for HIV/AIDS prevention education, among other things. Wendell worked with Sproing, but he and I became good friends. I miss him. It was very good to see him again.

I had a good conversation with Diva last night. She told me a little bit about living with her birth mom Janice. In a round-about way, probably unintentionally, she kinda told me that I'm a good mother. It took me a couple of hours after the conversation to realize it, but hey! I'm taking the compliment.

Jay asked about Twitch. Yes, Twitch still lives here. He works at Arby's, making sandwiches for the hungry lunch crowd almost every day. He is doing well, but really should be working (in my opinion) as a graphic designer or something related, which is what he got his degree for. However, he has plans to transfer to a store in Charlotte, NC this summer so he can look for graphic design work there. He went to college in Charlotte, so he's familiar with the city. It's big enough to have more opportunity for work in his field. That's the hope, anyway. He just turned 24 and feels like it's a drag to still be living with his parents. As much as we love and support him, we think he should be living on his own, too. All in good time.

That's about all I have the emotional energy to relay. I'll be back.

Diva update and other random shit on a Friday night

So, Diva. She was here for two nights, last Sunday and Monday (I think. Time runs together, becoming meaningless). She was supposed to have a job interview at Burger King on Tuesday, but she didn't go. It was snowing outside, but the weather wasn't too cold and no snow was sticking to the pavement. And I told her that if she was here tomorrow (which would be Wednesday in this version of time) I would take her to school to enroll. Son of a gun if she didn't have somewhere for her Daddy to take her on Tuesday night. She went to stay with some man (early 20s, Superman guesses) in Edgefield, about 45 minutes from here. I have no idea who this character is, whether he's a decent person or not. I suppose I should care, or should have checked, but as independent as Miss Diva wants to be, it seems improper for us to interfere.

In related news, her birth mother Janice told me she thinks Diva will be back in jail eventually, probably sooner than later.

Superman heard from Diva the other night. She texted him she wanted him to pick her up from Edgefield and take her to a friend's house in Saluda. You can look those places up on a map if you want. They are both about 45 minutes from Greenwood, one to the southwest, the other to the southeast. And not close to each other. Superman didn't reply and we haven't heard from her since.

Maybe we should be more diligent, but honestly, I have no energy to do so. I have not been a good mother to her. I tried, did the best I knew how, but it didn't work. My attitude now: oh well.

In Other News-
Superman took me out to dinner tonight. McAlister's. Decent food for a franchise deli. When I sat down at the table I KA-WHANGED my elbow on the ledge beside the chair. O.M.G. that hurt! I hit it hard. Not on the funny bone nerve, but on the bottom of the elbow. I've had ice on it since we got home. I'll take a pain reliever eventually. And yes, I can (almost) type while keeping my elbow on ice.

More Other News-
We bought a birthday present for Twitch tonight, only two weeks after his birthday. It came to me. I didn't know what to get him before. We got him a super big beach towel. Did you know Wal-Mart has put beach towels on display? At least they have in Greenwood, South Carolina. The young man has wanted a large beach towel for a while now.

Next News-
I have read a lot recently. Books on my Kindle. Have I mentioned that I really like my Kindle? I also watched some movies on TCM (cable movie channel). I watched two Frank Capra offerings yesterday, "Meet John Doe" and "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington." Frank Capra had a type. Evidently he was an optimistic soul. Indigo (Ashen Grey on facebook) says the movies, which he has never seen, would be improved with the addition of monsters or zombies. But that's Indigo.

I am still taking it easy and recovering from the surgery. It gets kinda boring. Thankfully, I like boring.

Superman turned me on to a new artist and song today. Well, he's new to me. It's Hozier, with Take Me To Church.


His explanation of the song is really good, too. Check it out.

The Bitch Is Back

We got a call from Diva early this afternoon. Superman and I were with friends near Charlotte, NC when the call came in. Diva says Janice kicked her out of the house. Janice says Diva got pissed about having to do chores and live with all those siblings, packed up her own stuff and said she's leaving. Stupid stuff, no matter how you slice it. I don't believe Diva, not sure I believe Janice either. No matter, we are responsible for her care as long as she is a minor. December 4th, 2015 she's 18 and NOT OUR PROBLEM anymore.

Diva says she needs to stay here for two days until she can move in with a friend here in Greenwood. I have no idea how those plans are progressing. My guess is that said friend doesn't know about the plan. We'll see. If she has to stay here, though, she'll go to school. We also aren't going to put up with the shit she's dealt us for so long. Things are going to change. Heaven and all the saints above and below give me strength to stand my ground.

I'm still supposed to be taking it easy, recovering from this surgery. Stress doesn't help. I took an Ativan (benzodiazepine) before we left our friends' place. I'm about to take another one now. I intend to stay as chillaxed as possible while she's here. If she is still here Monday, I'll go on the war path or something.

I don't have a good feeling about this.

Two weeks ago today...

I had surgery to remove all my female reproductive organs. See previous posts. Oh look, it's still Thursday (but less than an hour to go until Friday). I meant to write this post earlier today, but it's my first day this week online and I got distracted with emails and of course the Facebork.

Yesterday (Wednesday 18 Feb) I saw the gynecologic oncologist for my post surgery checkup. All is well, more or less. There was indeed cancer in the endometrium, as he suspected there might be. It was stage 2 (of 3), so that's a little bit more frightening than had it only been stage 1. However, there was no cancer in the muscle of the uterus or in any of the lymph nodes he removed. He couldn't get to the lymph nodes on my left side because I have some wicked scarring in there. I have no idea how the scar tissue developed. Weird. Anyway, he saw no more cancer besides what was involved in the endometrium. Good news.

However, the cancer might return. Where? I ask, because I have no more uterus or ovaries or fallopian tubes to get the cancer. Ah, but there's still the vagina, he says. Oh. That would be very bad. I have no further need of the uterus, ovaries, or fallopian tubes. The vagina, on the other hand, still plays an important role in my life. And in Superman's life. The doctor says the greatest chance of developing cancer is in the next two years, so he wants to see me every three months for the next two years to continue monitoring the situation.

I thought once I lost the cervix (it's part of the uterus, so it is gone) I'd be done with PAP smears. No such luck, because now they'll PAP the vagina. Oh well. Probably not as uncomfortable as the cervical PAP. I hope.

I'm frankly a bit scared about recurrence. For years I figured I'd probably end up with some kind of cancer. The odds being what they are. Now I have had cancer, it's been surgically removed, and there appears to be no more of it in my body. Also, no further treatment is necessary. But now that I have had cancer, I'm afraid it might return. I really don't want any more cancer, thankyouverymuch. Haven't I paid my dues, Life? Eh, Life doesn't work that way. Life works thusly: Shit Happens. Sometimes it's good shit, sometimes it's bad shit, but shit continues to happen.

Speaking of shit happening; COLD. Today's high temp didn't quite reach freezing. That's very rare for our part of South Carolina. Tonight's low forecast is 11F. I know many of my blog buddies north of here are experiencing much colder temps, but by gosh, this is pretty cold for us. Dearest Daughter Light in western Pennsylvania hasn't seen anything close to above freezing in I don't know how long. It's amazing. Below zero Fahrenheit. Wicked whipping winds blowing snow horizontally. As of yesterday she was still alive. Haven't heard from her today, and I assume no news is good news. Surely she'd let me know if she froze to death, right? She fell on the ice last week, but didn't do any more harm than a couple of scrapes and bruises. Poor Ron, retired in Delaware, messed up his knee falling on the ice.

With this cold weather we got a bit of precipitation Monday. Freezing rain, which is the curse of the south. It rarely snows, but we get our share of freezing rain. Thankfully the roadways were warm enough to not ice over in most of this area. Just a bit north, in Greenville and Spartanburg counties, they had road ice. Anyway, the power lines iced up as did trees. We lost power for about four hours Tuesday morning, from 7:20 to 11:20, and that was a lot less time than some folks did. The houses across the street evidently are on a different trunk line or something, because the neighbor lost power at midnight Monday night/Tuesday morning. The power outage wasn't such a big deal, but the cable outage was. We get our internet through the cable company. No TV, no big deal. No internet, BIG deal! The internet came back yesterday late morning, but I had a doctor's appointment in the early afternoon and after that I was reading, so didn't hit the internet until this afternoon.

The recovery time for my surgery (I changed topics again) is from two to six weeks. The doctor has increased my maximum weight lifting limit. It was 10 lbs, is now 15 lbs. Also, I can drive again. In celebration (or something) I went to the grocery today. I had Superman bring home the two gallons of milk we needed when he came home for lunch, because milk is heavy. I got a few things this afternoon. It was my first time out by myself since before the surgery. Yesterday going to the doctor was my first time out of the house since I got home from the hospital two weeks ago Friday. As I may have mentioned here before, I have a touch of agoraphobia. I feel more comfortable at home. Don't like to go out, especially to large crowded spaces. Some days Wal-Mart freaks me the hell out. Today I went to Aldi, which is much smaller, and I went between 2 and 3 o'clock when the store was sparsely populated. Even then, by the time I got to the check out line the anxiety was ratcheting up. I managed to get home OK, though, and didn't take any anxiety meds. So good for me.

Per Herr Doctor's orders, I still need to "take it easy." Not lift more than 15 lbs for the next four weeks, so no going back to the gym for weight machines. I can walk the treadmills, though, and that would be a good idea. They had told me before surgery that I couldn't resume sexual intercourse for six weeks, so I said something to the doc yesterday about only four more weeks for that. Nope, now I have to wait six weeks from yesterday to have sex. Shit. This is turning into a depressingly celibate winter. At least we can still snuggle.

A Haiku, dedicated to my friends and relatives suffering in the winter weather up north:

Wicked whipping wind
Blows snow horizontally.
Damn, it's cold out there! 

Six days post surgery

... and I feel fine!

Seriously, almost no pain. It's amazing. Oh, and I finally pooped yesterday. The doctor had me take a strong laxative the day before surgery. Took me three days just to fart. This is of particular interest to me because my father died (two years ago next month) six days after heart surgery because his bowel died, or something. Details are sketchy. All I know is that he never had any bowel activity after the surgery. Eventually all his organs failed. So farting after being under anesthesia is very important.

Moving along...

I haven't been online at all since last Friday after I got home from the hospital. I have, however, read about four or five gay romance novels. Fun and fluffy reading, folks. Today I decided to check my email and post here. Between point A and point B, Facebork happened. I'm so ready for a nap right now, but am making myself write this little bit of drivel before doing so.

And that's pretty much all I know.

Oh, here's a fun idea I got from Mel Vassey*, ** on Facebork today. Replace one word in a movie title with "goat." I'll start:
Goats on a Plane
Gone with the Goat
When Harry met Goat
continue in the comments, as you wish.

*Mel used to have a blog. He may still, but I can't find it. Can't remember the name of it either, just that it was a Spanish name having to do with wool or knitting or something. He's very smart and funny and I recommend reading his stuff if you find it. Or look for him on the Facebork.

**I found it! Cabezalana, but he hasn't updated since April of last year. He's also on Twitter, I understand, but I'm not.

All is well, as far as I know.

This is a post surgery update. As I begin this post it is almost 9:30 Friday evening. I was getting out of major surgery yesterday at 1:30. Medical technology is amazing. I had robotic surgery to remove my uterus, cervix, fallopian tubes and ovaries. Check this out: the term for the surgical procedure of removing all of a woman's ovaries and fallopian tubes is bilateral salpingooopherectomy. When the operating room nurse told us that yesterday both Superman and I were in nerd heaven.

I'm very tired. This post might not hold together really well. I took my pain meds about half an hour ago. This is not sober blogging. There are things I wish to say, and will say, but probably not tonight.

I was released from hospital about 12:30, less than 24 hours after I'd been in surgery. And I feel amazingly good all this considered. I'm sore and stiff, as if I was shaken up in a car wreck recently. My neck muscles are sore. What's up with that?

I have five small incisions in my belly, and only one of them hurts. It hurts plenty enough for the others. Moving is a delicate operation. I'm so fat that when I stand up my stomach sags, dragging down the tissues that were disturbed. The more I move around, though, the better I feel, generally. I'm supposed to take it real easy for the next two weeks, not lift anything over 10 pounds (I'm saying less than 10 lbs to begin with), not drive, etc. And I'm OK with that. The 1.5 hour trip home from the hospital was ambitious. Certainly doable, but ambitious.

There is more I want to say about what the doctor found and what kind of follow-up we need to do. Right now though I am so tired I'm gonna quit now. Stay tuned.

Today is U day!

Today is the day the diseased uterus comes out. I woke at 4 a.m. realizing the warm body snuggled against me was the dog, not Superman. He had trouble sleeping. (Superman, not the dog.) He's much more nervous than I am, the poor dear. I don't think the dog has a clue or would care even if he did. He's very good at being a dog. (The dog, not Superman.)

Every pregnant woman hears horror stories about other women's difficult childbirth experiences. Once I announced I was having a hysterectomy, I've heard anecdotes from women who've had hysterectomies or know those who've gone through it. I have been worried about the "discomfort" I'll experience afterward, but hadn't thought about the hormonal effects of having my ovaries suddenly ripped from my body. (That's perhaps not the most comforting way to express it.) But millions of women have lived through it and I expect to as well. Pretty soon I'll have my own horror stories to tell.

And that's about all I have time to talk about today. I've been contemplating how my concept of being a woman might be tied in to having a uterus, and what it means on a philosophical level to be losing mine. But that's a discussion for another time, when I'm not hurrying to get this posted so I can go lose my uterus.

See you on the flip side!

Penguins are some of nature’s great defecators.

Bet you didn't know that little factoid. Here's more from that source.*

Penguins are some of nature’s great defecators. In order to avoid messing up their feathers and their nests, they point their bottoms out of the nests and can shoot their poo up to 40 centimetres away. Researchers at the International University Bremen in Germany calculated that in order to do this the birds squeezed four times as hard as humans usually do. The colour of the birds' poo is important for researchers; if it's pink then the penguins have been eating krill, while white faeces point to a diet of fish. Green poo indicates a diet of algae, a food of last resort that usually means other foods are in short supply.

Heart In Hand (Rox) asked me to post something new so that the penis faucets aren't popping onto her screen. So I give you Penguins.

I will now update you on the Diva Drama, of which there is much. Last you heard, she was in jail. Her bio dad Robert did not actually come to get her out. Taking with birth mom Janice today, she said Robert talks a big talk but isn't so good with the follow through. Diva was release from the county detention center Saturday morning. She spent four nights in jail. Is that enough of a deterrent? I don't know. Don't know if deterrents work on her anyway. As I've said so many times before, that child ain't right in the head.

When she came home she told us she wasn't going back to Janice's house. Shit. She didn't like the lack of privacy or the other kids going through her stuff and taking things. HA! She's been doing shit like that to her siblings for years. Anyway, Superman talked to Diva Sunday and convinced her to go back to Janice's until after my surgery and recovery. (Surgery for a complete hysterectomy is scheduled for this Thursday, Feb 5.)

This morning shortly after 10:00 Diva and I left for Janice's house. Here's the plan: drive to Janice's, drop her and her small bag of stuff off there, high tail it home. Unfortunately things didn't go so smoothly. Janice texted she had a job interview** and wouldn't be home (after telling me at 9 a.m. that she'd be home all day) so I should take Diva to Janice's friend Phat's house. Yeah, Phat. Whatever. Said Diva knows how to get there. So I ask Diva, she said she knows where Phat lives but doesn't know how to get there, and doesn't want to go there anyway. She said she'd rather go to her older brother's house, and she does know the way there.

We go first to Janice's house to 1) see if Janice is still there and 2) give Diva a familiar starting place for the drive to her brother's. Janice wasn't there. Diva directed me out of the neighborhood but soon missed the part where I was supposed to get on the interstate. Five miles later she says we missed the turnoff. WTF. So we go back to the interstate, and I ask her whether we need to get on Northbound or Southbound. She has no clue what I'm talking about, says that the sign says Asheville Highway. But that sign is on the interstate, of course. In which direction? Seriously, she didn't grasp the concept that there are two directions the interstate runs. I stopped at a convenience store to ask directions. It didn't really help. We drove north too far, then came back south too far, and never saw the Asheville Highway sign. We phoned the brother's baby mama for directions, and that didn't help enough. I asked her what the highway number was. Her response: huh? I don't know.

At that point I checked the maps app on my slow piece of shit phone and found Asheville Highway (176). That still didn't help enough because I was on the wrong piece of interstate. There's a business loop off the main interstate, which is where I should have been but wasn't.

After driving north and south and north and south for over an hour I finally connected with Janice, who by then was finished with her interview and wanted to go home. We met at a McDonald's. I passed Diva off to Janice. Praise the heavenly host.

By now it's after 1:00, my phone battery is almost dead, and I'm hungry and thirsty. I set out to find real food (did NOT go into the McD's!). Had a lovely omelet at IHOP. I inadvertently left my phone in the car, and when I returned I saw that I had missed a call from Janice. Well, I called Superman to let him know where I was, then turned off the phone. I didn't want to hear what Janice had to say until I got home. It was a good move.

The whole trip should have taken no more than three hours. I got home five hours after I left. Came in, plugged my phone up, called Superman. Oh dear. He had heard from Janice. And someone from Department of Social Services (DSS). Seems Diva had one of her shit fits shortly after I dropped her off. Janice called the cops. I'm a bit fuzzy on the details, but they ended up in the DSS office. The upshot of that was that since we are her guardians, we have to go get her and bring her back here. Oh, shit. I 'bout lost it. I was shaking and tearful. We have been through the ringer with this little bitch for so long, and here we finally thought we're rid of her. Oh shit.

So I called Janice. We had a nice little talk. She said to call her back when Superman got home from work and we'd discuss things. Which we did, and Janice agreed to keep Diva for now.

I'm scheduled for surgery in three days. I'm emotionally fragile right now anyway, and expect it'll be worse after the surgery when I will be basically defenseless for some weeks. It is a very bad idea for Diva to be here now for many reasons.

I talked to Janice after she'd been at the DSS office. Superman was on the speaker phone with the lady from DSS, so Janice heard a lot of information that was new to her. So when we spoke, she'd had some time to ruminate on the new info. She indicated that the shit fit Diva had was much milder than what she usually does for us. I get the impression that Janice wants to see what she can do to help Diva, to "fix" anything that's messed up due to Diva living with us. And frankly I am thankful for that. Anyone who's read this blog for a while knows that Diva is messed up and Superman and I are so far over our heads with her that we can't see the light. Yes, we've messed up. We have done everything we know to do to make things right, but she's a mess. If Janice can make a difference, I hope and pray she does. For right now, Diva isn't here. And Janice and I have been discussing going through the legal process of giving her legal guardianship. I would love to do that, and told Janice today that we plan to call our lawyer (probably after my surgery) to get the ball moving on that.

I would like Superman to fill in some details about his conversation with the DSS lady.

Thank you, Babe. Okay, then. I might get a thing or two out of sequence, but this is the gist of the conversation.
So I'm sitting at my desk, minding my own business (well ... technically I was minding Capsugel's business, but you get the idea) when my phone rings.
Not recognizing the number, I answered with my name.
"Sir, this is [Jane Doe] with Spartanburg DSS.
All right, picture with me if you will a very large, formidable, dour, scowling, severely-dressed maiden aunt with her hair in a tight bun, who is of the opinion that fun should be illegal. That is the voice that spoke to me. Then "Spartanburg DSS" sank in, and I sighed. "What did she do this time?"
"Sir, I don't think you understand. I am here with [Janice] and we need for you to come and get Diva."
It took me a few seconds to process that, too. "What?"
"Diva can't stay with [Janice]. She is not Diva's legal guardian. You are."
"Legally, ma'am, I'm her father, not her legal guardian, but that's details. Would you tell me what's wrong?"
Janice spoke up, "She started pulling shenanigans just as soon as Java's truck was out of sight. I can't take care of her if she's gonna act like that."
More processing of information on my part, interspersed with dealing with the psychic punch I just took to the gut. "What made her change her mind?"
Jane Doe paused for a second. "What do you mean?"
"She was all fired up to go to Spartanburg to be with Janice. She's been of that mind since they first met back last fall. I'm curious to know what changed."
"I have no idea if anything changed, but [Janice] is not her legal guardian. She gave up her rights to Diva when she placed her for adoption."
"Yes, I know."
"Then why would you try to make [Janice] take her?"
At this point I'm wondering if Jane is even listening to me. "Ma'am ... I have been trying my best to preserve the peace and balance what Diva wants with what is best for her. That is a very difficult thing to do when Diva has such a loose grip on reality."
"Well the law is very clear in this case, and you can't force ..."
"Ma'am, I didn't force anything. I was trying to help Diva get what she told me she wanted. She hates living with us. She has for a long time. It makes for a VERY tense atmosphere in the house and no one is happy with it, but as you stated, we are responsible for her. We have been doing the best we could ..."
"You could have gotten her some help. That child is out of control!"
I stopped and absorbed that. Excuse me? FUCKING EXCUSE ME?!? "Ma'am, she has been a client of the mental health system since the age of nine."
"You should try counseling."
I took the phone away from my ear and looked at it, then resumed the conversation, understanding that she wasn't paying very close attention to what I said. Another 'gubmint' drone with an agenda and a tight ass. "Ma'am, I need you to listen to me."
"What?" She sounded offended.
"Diva has been in counseling since the age of nine."
"Well, you should do family counseling."
"We have. On many occasions. Family, individual, with several different counselors. Some of it court ordered because of her violent tendencies."
"... Uh ... have you tried ..."
"She is in the state mental health system. She has been seen by private counselors. She was admitted to a mental hospital for threatening my life. She spent thirteen months in a residential treatment facility, and they gave her back to us because they said they couldn't do anything with her. She has attacked Java. She has attacked multiple classmates. She has a history of stealing whatever she can get her hands on, and has been doing that for better than a dozen years. My wife and I have counseling ourselves, just so we can have some clue how to deal with her."
"... Oh."
I was sort of on a roll at that point. "If she doesn't like the way reality is panning out around her, she just discards it and makes up one of her own. She's done that most of her life. She has five clinical diagnoses, including Impulse Control Disorder and Reactive Attachment Disorder. She doesn't consider us her family and never has. Now, there is a physical, organic basis for some of that because she has a congenital brain defect, periventricular leukomalacia, which means part of the brain is missing. It's the part that contains that little governor that says, 'Now wait a minute and think about that before you do it.' It helps explain her problem with impulse control and stealing. But please believe me when I tell you that we have done everything in our power to help her and to adapt to this hellish situation. And let me also state that I am sick of being cast as the Bad Guy because I had the gall to try to help her achieve her goals.
"I see. Well. I'm, uh, very sorry sir. But you still have to come get her."
"Fine. Janice, I guess I'll see you this evening, then."

So there's that. And as I said, Diva isn't here, at least for now. And I hope, pray, beg, plead that she stays away. Perhaps I'm a bad mother, but dammit, she's a bad child and no one has any idea what it's like to raise a kid like her unless they've done it themselves.

*There are a bunch of interesting penguin facts at that link, hardly any of them having to do with poop. Check it out if you have a minute. Or more.

**She got the job! She's been unemployed for a few weeks and really needs that job. I'm happy for her.

We interrupt this program for breaking gaiety

This you have to see. This is what I call nice hardware.

I was perusing the interwebs, mustering the courage to write the update on the Diva Drama, when I found it. And oh, my, is it a doozy. I'm so glad I have this blog and you wonderful blog readers with whom to share this. I first thought to post it on Facebork, but naw, I have fb friends who just wouldn't appreciate the fine quality of this workmanship. If you know what I mean.


I think the longer curved spout is my favorite. But the drawer pulls are wonderful, too.

I'm not as fond of the barware, except perhaps the beer tap handles.

They have the advantage of being nice and large. Ten and a half inches! That's quite a handful.

The link at the top there has the full assortment of products. I recommend checking it out.

I swaney, as my Grandma-in-law used to say.

Ugh - Now With Updates!

Diva is here tonight. Superman and I had to get her from her birth mom Janice's house this evening. She has her court appearance (for third degree assault and giving false info to police) tomorrow morning and Janice couldn't bring her here, so she texted me this morning asking if we could provide transportation.

So at 9 tomorrow morning (Tuesday) I'll take her to the courthouse, then sit there watching the parade. If the judge lets her go, I'll take her back to Janice. If the judge sentences her to jail time, I'll leave dancing a jig of mourning.

I will update this post with the results of our adventure in the next day or so, so stay tuned.

As I write this update it is Wednesday afternoon. In completely unrelated news, our auto insurance expires and renews today, but we haven't received the proof of insurance cards yet. Either that or they came and the envelope was misplaced. A likely scenario in my world. 

But I'm stalling. 

Diva isn't here right now. Yes, Slugmama, I danced a jig of mourning as she was hauled off to the county detention center. The jig was more of a thought exercise than me actually bouncing my fat ass in the county municipal building. 

The judge dismissed the assault charge - nolle prosequi, which I've always pronounced nolo process, but I'm no JD. They nabbed her on giving false information. For those of you just tuning in, she was in a fight on the school bus a week after she turned 17. The cops were called, she told them she was 15 to avoid being charged as an adult. Then of course while processing the report it came to light that she was actually 17. She was arrested right here in our living room on New Years Eve. It was the most exciting thing we did on NYE this (last) year, but we're boring. 

The fine, I guess it's the maximum fine but we didn't know that, was $1092 or 30 days in jail. The judge reduced the fine to $175 or 10 days in jail. Well, we aren't going to pay one thin dime for her mess. We've suffered enough expense, both monetary and emotional, on behalf of this child for the last 16 years. Diva tried to call her bio-dad, Robert, but he wasn't available. She texted Janice, who couldn't do anything about it but asked Diva if we were going to pay. HA! When she couldn't contact anyone else, they took her across the street to jail. I was giddy! I giggled all the way home. (Which little piggy does that?) 


Robert called me in the afternoon when he got a free minute and we had a very nice conversation. I like Robert. He indicated that he was going to come down to Greenwood from where he lives near Spartanburg to pay her fine and take her home. Not my home, mind you, but either Janice's or his. I talked to him again last night and he said he'd be here in the morning to get her, but I haven't heard anything from them. She brought a few things here when we got her Monday night and I expect she'll come by to get them. Maybe not. 

I spoke with the clerk of court (I think that's her position) about Diva's sentence. She said Diva will only spend 5 days in jail unless she acts up. Time off for good behavior. So 30 days really means 5. Good grief. Also the fine will be reduced a bit for every day she stays in jail. That makes sense. 

So right now I don't actually know where Diva is. She might be in jail, she might be with Robert. I really don't care (much*) as long as she isn't here!

* She's my daughter. We tried (Lord knows, we tried) to make this family work, to integrate her into the family as befits a daughter. She has resisted our efforts almost from the first, when we got custody of her on February 4, 1999. Almost 16 years ago exactly. I have invested so much in this relationship, in her. We have 16 years of history together. It is impossible for me to divorce myself from her emotionally. I mourn the family that we could have been. For my health and sanity I'm letting it go (shaking it off, as is so popular these days) inasmuch as I am able. It is a complicated relationship, and she will always to some extent be my daughter. So of course I will always care about her, what happens to her, what she does. But I will no longer wrap my life around her. 

Further news from the front lines

Three things I want to talk about specifically: Diva, Sproing, and my health. Let's start with my health.

For those of you just tuning in, my previous post explained the diagnosis of endometrial cancer. Or actually, precancerous atypical cells in the endometrium. They seem to have caught it early, it's likely restricted to the endometrium inside the uterus, a complete hysterectomy will probably be the only treatment I'll need. Unless the cancer has spread, which is unlikely and I'm studiously pretending that it hasn't. No use worrying about something that probably won't happen.

I saw the gynecologic oncology doc last Wednesday. I like him. And he comes highly recommended. Both Superman and I feel a lot better, more secure, less nervous having met him. My surgery is scheduled for the 5th of February.

I have to get my cardiologist to sign off on the surgery first. I had a few episodes of Pre-Ventricular Contractions (PVC, also known as Poly Vinyl Chloride) last year. The cardiologist seemed to think it's no big deal, the PVC won't affect my heart's function at all. But the surgeon won't cut until the cardio says it's OK. The cardio appointment is the 3rd of Feb. We're cutting it kinda close here, guys.

I get to do bowel prep the day before surgery. I asked about that, even, and it is standard procedure. After having some of my guts removed I DO NOT want to be straining to empty my bowels anytime soon. So the magnesium citrate will clean me out before and I shouldn't have to worry about anything for a few days thereafter. For some reason that gives me great comfort.

Any more questions? Ask in the comments and I'll try to post again with answers.

OK, let's talk about Sproing. He is incarcerated in a "camp," a dreary flat sandy compound of low flat gray buildings. It ain't luxury, but then this is punishment, so good for it. He seems to be doing well in that well structured environment. He's mostly behaving himself and is working toward his goals. There was some question in his mind (but no one else's) as to how long his sentence is. He thought it was 1-3 months, but everyone else was saying it's 1-6 months. He keeps asking me to check with the local probation officer, so I finally did earlier this week. His sentence is 1-6 months. According to the case worker at the camp, this was fully explained to him last week. I think he didn't like the answer so he asked someone else. Sorry, chump, the answer remains the same. Anyway, at the rate he's progressing through his goals, he'll likely be released in early to mid March. He was thinking February, but not so fast. I'm glad he's not getting out when he thought he would, because that's when I have my surgery. I don't need him to help me recover. Contrarily, I think he wouldn't help at all.

In related news, my relative is in jail. My oldest nephew, now in his late 20s, is awaiting trial on a drug charge. He spent a while in jail not too long ago on drug charges. According to his father, this time he will probably get 10 years in prison. Prison is not jail. Jail is relatively short term or temporary housing, like how my nephew is in jail awaiting trial. If one has a short sentence to serve (like Diva might. More on that in a minute.) then one spends a few months in jail. For long term incarceration, it's prison. Neither is pleasant, but prison is way more hard core. I feel bad for my nephew, but he's been stupid enough to get himself into this situation. I have no doubt that he is guilty of some drug related shenanigans, if not exactly what he's charged with. We shall see. My brother is about too frustrated with his son after all this time. He and I share a sense of resignation about the fate of our children. We've done the best we knew how, with every good intention, but these kids make their own decisions about stuff and shit happens.

Now on to Diva. A lot has happened in the last few months, and I know I'm not going to hit every point here. As mentioned in past posts, she got in touch with her birth mother Janice in late summer/early fall. Diva spent almost every weekend with Janice to begin with. Then it was every other weekend, or once a month. But both Diva and Janice talked about Diva moving up to Spartanburg County to live with Janice. Of course Superman and I thought that was a stellar idea. The tentative plan was to move her up there after the school semester ended here. And that is what happened. The closer we got, the less enthusiastic Diva was about the idea. She did not/does not want to live with us. She has made that clear over and over again for years. She would like to live with her friend Shi and Shi's mother.

Shi just turned 18, dropped out of school as soon as she was old enough, which coincided with her 9th grade year if I recall. She was quite a bit older than her 9th grade peers, having been held back a few times because of failure to attend school. See a pattern here? Shi's mother is a high school drop out. Says she's got her GED, but I don't believe her. They got kicked out of public housing, though I never found out why. Over the three or so years we've known them they have been evicted from every place they've lived, and each place is more wretched than the last. Last week they were evicted from one of the nastiest little trailers I've ever known of, for not paying their rent. And Diva wants to go live with them. They are staying with Shi's grandfather temporarily, but are technically homeless. So no, we don't think it's a good idea for Diva to stay with Shi. She wouldn't go to school if she lived with them, and we very much want her to get her high school diploma.

Janice also wants Diva to get her diploma. As I've gotten to know Janice over the past few months I really like her. I appreciate her efforts, and agree with what she says are her priorities. (The proof is in the pudding. She says a lot of hopeful things, but time will tell if she really means it. So far, though, so good.)

The local school district ended first semester on the 14th of January. I took Diva to withdraw her from school. She was supposed to have been in school that week to take her final exams, but since she'd missed so much school already, she failed all her classes due to absence. So we withdrew her, and took her up to Janice the following Sunday, Jan 18th. She's been gone a week now. Oh My Gods you have no idea what a relief this is! Superman and I feel almost giddy with relief, freedom, release.

Janice took Diva to enroll her in the local school district on the 20th, the day after Martin Luther King Jr. day. Funny story. The district looked at her transcripts and decided to put her in the alternative school due to her excessive disciplinary write-ups. Last year Diva almost went to our alternative school, but because of her Individual Education Plan (IEP) accommodations they decided to leave her to disrupt the "normal" school. But not now! Oh, also, they didn't let her start last week. This Monday will be her first day of school. I don't know what she's been doing for the past week. Maybe driving Janice crazy.

And did I tell you that Janice has five more children younger than Diva? She had two more girls after Diva, then three boys. And Diva has an older brother. Don't know if the older brother lives with them, but with Diva there are at least six children in the house, and it isn't a big house. I'm just snickering.

But get this: today Diva called us and said she doesn't want to stay there anymore. "Tough shit, bitch!" No, I didn't really say that. I was very sweet when I told her that no way in hell was she coming back here. I said all the plans are now in place for her to be there and she needs to stay. "But I haven't started school yet." But you're already enrolled up there. She didn't get the response she wanted. Sucks to be you, girl. We weren't on the phone long.

So let me tell you about Diva's legal trouble. Four days after she turned 17 (this past December) she got into a "physical altercation" on the school bus, one serious enough for the bus driver to call the police. When questioned, Diva said she was 15. The point here is that at 17, young people are treated as adults when they commit crimes. The consequences of fighting on the bus are very different at 15 than at 17. As an "adult" Diva was charged with assault of some kind. Third degree assault, Superman tells me. And because she gave false information to a law officer, that's another legal offense. If I remember correctly, it was the day after Christmas that law officers appeared at our door with an arrest warrant for the Diva. They took her downtown for her arraignment before the judge. Superman followed a few minutes later, as the cops told us she'd see the judge and be done in a few minutes. Each of the two offenses carries a fine of $1092 or 30 days in jail. For each offense. There is a chance for her to participate in the pretrial intervention program for first time offenders, but that costs $350, of which we won't pay any. Not for her. And she doesn't have the money. She has to apply for pretrial intervention before her court date, which is this Tuesday the 27th.  And now she lives an hour or so away.

Diva says her birth father won't let her go to jail, and will come up with the $350 for pretrial intervention. They'll have to do that on Monday if it's to work. At any rate, she needs to be in the Greenwood County court house at 8:30 Tuesday morning or she's in contempt of court (or whatever that charge is). I've washed my hands of the whole affair, except for the part where I'm following closely to see what happens. Of course if she isn't there and hasn't applied for pretrial intervention, she'll be arrested again. She just doesn't seem to comprehend that she can't do whatever she wants with no consequences. It makes me sad, but mostly I'm sad because I'm not as upset as perhaps I should be. She has dumped so much shit on us for so long, that she's used up all my give-a-fucks.

Right now I am focused on my health. I am so grateful that neither of our youngest children is here to mess with my head and distract me from this priority.

This is it

It came Thursday, a business size envelope thick with papers. Right, all the forms the doctor's office wants you to fill out when you are a new patient. Until that envelope arrived part of my mind still pretended it wasn't real. The return address: Gibbs Cancer Center and Research Institute.

I got the news on Monday, 12 January, from my gynecologist. My appointment with the oncologist is next Wednesday, 21 January. I must have those forms filled out by then. It's Saturday night and I haven't opened the envelope.

For the last few months my... I hate talking about my menstrual cycle, especially with men. But this is the story, so here it goes. For the last few months my menstruation has been messed up. A period that should have lasted about five days dragged on for three weeks. Not all heavy bleeding, but not stopping as it should. The next time my period started, it lasted five weeks. Again, no huge loss of blood, but still. So I saw my gynecologist. This was three or four weeks ago. She scheduled an ultrasound, which we did two weeks ago. The images looked like shades of gray and black splotches, but I'm no expert. The expert said the lining of the uterus looked too thick for as much as I've been bleeding recently. I said it was too thick for my age (I'll be 53 on 22 January, the day after I see the oncologist for the first time.) I should be well into complete menopause by now. My doctor said I was an overachiever. I laughed.

Because the lining, the endometrium, was thicker than it ought to be, my doc took a sample to biopsy. Right there in the office. No big deal, except boy, was that uncomfortable! That was Wednesday the 7th. I made a follow up appointment for two weeks out, next Tuesday, the 20th. Except that on Monday morning my doctor's nurse called to tell me that the biopsy report had come back and the doctor wanted to talk to me, how about 2;00 this afternoon? Doesn't everyone know what that means?

When I got to the office early afternoon Monday my blood pressure, which normally is 120/80 give or take ten points, was 150/90.

The doctor told me that there were suspicious cells in the endometrium. Did she actually say cancer cells, or was it pre-cancerous? I don't remember exactly. My official diagnosis is atypical hyperplasia,* whatever that means. (I have studiously avoided WebMD for the sake of my blood pressure.) That diagnosis is grounds for hysterectomy right there, she said. But more than that, it's the presence of those pesky cells that shouldn't be there. They indicate cancer or what will probably very soon be cancer. My doctor had her people book the next available appointment with the best doctor in the southeast. (So says my therapist. She knows these things.)

All I really know is that I will have a hysterectomy, probably very soon. I hope very soon. Now that I know this uterus is diseased, I want it gone as soon as possible. Also, the damn thing continues to bleed, and I'm SO over that mess! I hope to get a surgery date when I see the gynecological oncologist (say that out loud, then try it three times really fast) on Wednesday. I'll let you know.

There's lots of drama going on with Diva, some news on Sproing. Very briefly...

Sproing is in a military style "camp" about three hours east of here in the flat and sandy nowherelands. Superman and I are going to visit him tomorrow (Sunday). He's doing very well there, and will likely be sprung (Sproing gets sprung) in February.

Diva is supposed to move in with her birth mother this weekend. Today, even. She's got all her stuff packed, Janice (birth mom) has things set up for her to start school up there on Tuesday (Monday being a holiday). But Diva is at her friend's house near here. Superman went to pick her up this afternoon and she refused, loudly, to go with him. Don't know what we're going to do about it, exactly. We have all her stuff, holding it hostage here at the house. I'll try to update this clusterfuck as soon as possible, perhaps with some juicy detail.

*OK, I looked it up, but on the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists website. That link up there goes to a clear explanation of endometrial hyperplasia.