*Tongue* Patch Diet? Seriously?

As a woman who once weighed less than a gym bag full of wet tennis shoes, my self-esteem was bruised when I gained 30 pounds. Still, I could get away with wearing cute clothes right off the rack. I didn't have to look for anything in certain colors or patterns or the right kind of 'hang' to feel cute. Plus, I knew I was healthy and could easily take off the pounds the minute my busy life let me get from behind my work desk.

Fast forward to when I got sick. The only gym bag to compare my weight to was one Gulliver could have used in his travels. I shot right up 59 pounds faster than I could blink.

Thankfully, I'm better now and I'm able to exercise regularly. I keep music on at home so I can dance around to do chores. Recently, I started back with my 3 days a week at Planet Fitness, and summer is coming. I'm down 34 pounds and have 25 to go before I'm free of wearing long tops and those pants with 'slimming panels' at the belly. Hallelujah and thank Jesus.

Once I get those 25 pounds off my butt, I plan to shoot for another 25 or 30. I might not stay at my best weight, but I plan to visit it for a while. I'll most likely take rooms at the place next door to a loss of 25 or 30 - like maybe 20. I'd be happy to retire there, truth be told.

I've worked hard to drop this weight. All those foods and beverages I inhaled in my twenties and thirties (because it seemed I could just pee the calories away) are gone. Changing my eating habits wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I eat more for my skin and hair than I do for my nerves. I seem to have lost my cravings for all but an occasional taste of chips and dip or burger and fries. Thank you, menopause. (Coffee is never going out of my life. NEVER. Coffee with lots of cream and brown or raw sugar is my crack. I hope somebody invents vanilla-caramel creamer with lots of calorie-free fat. Yes, indeedy.)

The one thing I won't do to lose weight is participate in any kind of extreme dieting. I'm vain, not stupid. Fad diets mess with your skin, hair and general well-being. What's the use of having your ideal body size if that body is all effed up?

So, I come (finally, right?)  to this "Tongue Patch Diet" I've been hearing about.

Who in the happy hell would want the pain of having that thing sewn onto their tongue? Why not just superglue your lips around a block of wood and leave a straw-hole in the middle?

Maybe it's me. I admit that we all have different weaknesses, but I think that, at some point, self-motivation has to win over pain. If not, then how about the fact that this guy - you know, the guy who came up with this - doesn't even want to say the word 'healthy' in connection to the procedure?

Asked if sewing a foreign object into somebody's mouth was healthy, Chugay said, "Well, it's not unhealthy."

Huh.

Thank you, sir, but no. Even if I could afford the two grand for the procedure, I have this thing where I only go to a doctor to have pain taken away. Wow.

I admit that losing weight is hard. I've been a single digit size and I've shopped in the curvy girls section. Fighting your cravings and desire for comfort is rough. I still have days where I have to talk myself into driving right past the Burger King half a mile up the road. I get a block away and start singing "Dixie": Look away, look away... Boy, there are times when I am glad to have some idiot tailgating my ass so I don't have time to hit the brakes and make that turn into the drive-through.

On the other hand, I have to wonder why, if someone is willing to go so far to lose weight - why not just change grocery-shopping habits? I could just think about the pain of a patch being sewn onto my tongue and steer myself away from the Twinkies. I mean, damn.

I'm not going to criticize too hard. For me, though, I will stick with self-motivation. The only pain there is from the occasional fall off the wagon.

Peace
--Free

Black History Month

Let's talk about this: Black history, people, race and why we do talk about it so much.

I have to admit that I have mixed feelings about Black History Month. On the one hand, I am happy that  the history of black people is officially acknowledged. On the other hand, I am sad that there has to be a separate history for one race of people in a country made up of many races.

I feel the same way about racial designations. Why are there hyphenated Americans? And, since we do hyphenate, why not hyphenate everyone?

This is not the first time (nor will it be the last, God willing) that I post about racial issues. The issues exist, but we are all just people. Black, brown, white, red, light, dark, tanned; attractive, plain, unattractive; silly, sweet, ignorant, kind, caring, dumb-ass; smart, dumb, nice, hateful, petty, selfless, rude, sensitive, cruel; famous, infamous, unknown; rich, poor, frugal, spendthrift, struggling; admirable, embarrassing; sinful, saintly and... human.

I've not remained strictly constant on how I look at racial issues. Opinions and emotions and reactions never are constant. On issues of race, sometimes, I've been angry. I've sometimes been just irritated. There have been times when I've felt race matters very much, and times when I've wished it didn't. Sometimes, it's mattered more to other people than to me. It's mattered in subtle ways and in ways that were uncomfortable.

(Let me go ahead and get the whole "first black President" thing out of the way: Yes, I was elated by the election of Obama. I'm not always thrilled with what he's done in office, but I am still happy that voters were able to put him there. I'm more happy with what I think of as the "wall of color" being battered down than I am with the man who stepped over the threshold.)

Don't get me started again on my rant about being so hyphenated. I've said it before: I am a Black-American (if it has to matter) and Charlize Theron is an African-American (if she has citizenship ~shrug~). My point is, I came from Texas, not Africa. If we want to get ancestral, there are some people who believe we may all be hyphenated Africans. Or maybe we should be hyphenated Asians.

For myself, I believe we all have roots in Eden. And does it matter where we 'originated' if we create a hell here on earth by battling over the differences?

Tell you the truth, every February I forget that it is Black History Month until about the second week in. I'm going to get heat for this but... after the first celebration, it stopped being that big of a deal for me. What would impress me is if all people remembered every month of the year that we are equal and American. No greater than someone from Japan or Ireland or Jupiter. Just equal and human.

Am I disregarding the hardships of being black? No. I just think that one of the hardships is that we still are dealing with the effects of racism. Long after the end of slavery (for American blacks), there is still racism and plenty of other ignorance - by all races.

It's ignorant for people who are not black to say that race never matters.I'd like to ask the most ignorant of that group: If it never matters, would you trade your race for being black for a year? It's ignorant when people who are black act like history doesn't matter. I'd like to ask the most ignorant of that group: If someone died for equal education, why aren't you taking advantage of that right?

Black History Month will soon end for the year. Being black - being whatever race - is forever. We have to work at making life the best it can be every day that we live.

Peace
--Free

"Welfare" is NOT a Dirty Word

When I posted about hope for the disabled, I was thinking of how being disabled is stigmatized enough without other problems.

Being out of work is a trigger for depression. You aren't bringing in a paycheck - you are receiving welfare.

Definition of Welfare: financial support given to people in need. (my emphasis)

Welfare isn't a dirty word, but the way many people say it makes one think of a recipient as being lower than a rapist. I think one of the reasons I've always disliked an otherwise likable man is because he popularized the term Welfare Queen. He did for recipients of assistance what many trashy newspapers do for the image of any American person with brown skin.

I've responded before to people who have a negative perception of welfare recipients. (Okay, it was more like I ranted, but I felt provoked.) I probably didn't touch the conscience of the stupid, but I might have made a difference to the ignorant.

On the subject of depression among the disabled (even those who aren't diagnosed as depressed), much of the problem is caused by ignorance. Most of us are guilty of being ignorant of situations we haven't been in. Ignorance is only bliss for the people it doesn't affect. When I run into people who are ignorant about my personal situation as a welfare recipient, I am affected. Sometimes, I come away mad, but I often just feel depressed and frustrated.

An example:

A while back, I was in the grocery store and another shopper started chatting with me. She commented on the ridiculous prices of the fruit we were looking over. She told me how she had lived all over the world and still didn't understand why shipping costs to Alaska seemed worse than anywhere else. That led us into a conversation about other things: places we'd lived, jobs we'd held, our hobbies... We even had a good laugh over being single after forty. She was one of those people you meet and just instantly like. She seemed smart, educated and friendly. We talked for probably a good fifteen minutes before separating to finish our shopping. A couple of times while I was cruising the aisles, I saw her and another woman sharing a cart.

When I went to the self-checkout section, there was the lady and her friend at the register next to mine. She had a bunch of groceries she was almost finished checking out and she gave me a look of "Thank God" when she was just about done. I scanned my three or four items and pulled out my EBT card to pay.

The EBT cards issued here in Alaska look pretty much like any debit card, but most residents know at a glance exactly what they are.

The woman who had been so friendly before saw that EBT card and she developed an instant nose-up attitude. I don't know if she said anything to her friend or not, but I caught them watching me and giving each other looks. I thought about waving when I left, but they were ignoring me pretty good. I'm not blaming this woman for her reaction. I blame media and anyone who promotes negative stereotypes. Still, I felt a few seconds of hatred for that lady's attitude. When I got over that, I spent the drive home wishing something would happen to send her running to stand in line at the local Public Assistance office. I got over that, but the hurt feelings I had lingered for days. Also, I started using my EBT card at the least busiest time in a store - like at midnight.

Maybe I am just being sensitive. Probably. Knowing how welfare is so stigmatized in our society will do that.

I told my sister once that no matter how I'm dressed or how I speak and present myself, that the minute I have to pull out that EBT card at a store (or the Medicare/Medicaid card at a clinic), my soul shrinks ten inches. My sister knows me. She knows that I tend to feel everything too deeply. She has held my hand while I've cried from feeling embarrassed and worthless because of that fucking EBT card.

Being on welfare feels like wearing signs that say things like "I am lazy", "I am milking the system", "I am the reason you pay so much in taxes".

What I want to express here is that not everyone receiving assistance owns those signs. We've paid taxes and we will be happy enough to pay them again. Not all of us wear our situations wear you can see them. We are smart, educated and worthwhile people. We have, at some point, worked just as hard as you. We dream and hope and care and feel. Just like you.

The past couple of years have been tough, but I've learned things about myself that I might never have discovered. A good thing about being at your lowest point is, you can be sure of the sincerity of the people who love you.

If you are someone lucky enough to never need help, be good to the people who do.

Peace
--Free

Employment Hope for the Disabled

I'm a very happy chick this weekend. Even though the temps have dropped and it looks like winter is going to be here for the full stay (no early spring for us!), the sun in my world is starting to peek out.

A lot of my blog posts in the past couple years (maybe most of them) have referenced my disability. I like to think of it as "this damn sarc". Other than the physical damage the sarc has caused, it's also beat hell out of my esteem. I probably had the disease lurking for years before it put me in the hospital. For two and a half years, I haven't been able to function at my normal abilities. For a while, I couldn't walk without running into walls and there were times I couldn't remember my name. The time I spent not able to drive was bad but the worst thing was not being able to work.

Most people who are temporarily out of work find other ways to use their time. I couldn't do much of anything that required being able to concentrate for more than five minutes at a time. Even writing a simple blog post took hours.

A few months back, I told my doctors that I really wanted to try getting back into the workforce. If I could find work I could actually perform. If my sarc remained stable under treatment. If I wasn't terrified of relapsing or losing the ability to continue treatments. A lot of ifs, a lot of fear and anxiety.

I can't be the only person in this situation, so I want to share news that there is some hope for us. I don't want to get specific because I only know about my personal situation. Let me give some general suggestions for other disabled people to start finding hope:

• Check with a local Vocational Rehabilitation office. See if they offer the services you need to get back to work.
• If you are receiving the government disability benefits that you earned, check on having those benefits analyzed. A Benefits Analyst can outline your options for returning to work and maintaining insurance until you are fully recovered. 
• If you don't know where to begin in finding a voc rehab agency or Benefits Analyst, contact your hospital for help finding a social worker or anyone else who can assist you.
• Ask, ask, ask. If you are receiving any kind of benefits or assistance from any agency, trust me, those folks want to help get you back on your feet.
• Be polite, be sincere when reaching out for help. People really do seem to want to help folks who truly do want help. (I have some angels in my social networks who were encouraging to me from the very beginning. You all know exactly who you are. By the way, I love you!)
• You might get discouraged, but don't stay discouraged. If you run into a wall (not literally!) when trying to find information, just go another route.
• Contact hospitals, clinics, local and federal assistance agencies. Even try asking your doctors. (I lucked out in getting caring physicians.)
• Local assistance and programs vary by state, but you can easily check out help via federal programs.)
• People out there don't always share what they know. You may have to ask around.

Like I said, I don't want to go into specifics about my situation, but I will say that I have had a lot of my fears addressed. Not only are people helping me determine what kind of employment I'm currently suitable for, they are going to help me gain employment. 

For all the griping folks do sometimes about our government, I've learned that, as a disabled person, I'm very lucky to live in America. 

So. Hopefully, before this year is over, I will be able to gripe about driving to work in crappy weather. I look forward to it.

Peace

--Free

***UPDATE*** Natural Girl Hair Tales

As I sort of promised, here are some pics for the previous post on natural hair:

Is that a gray hair?! Nope. Split ends, dang it!!!

Still a TWA, huh?

Have to find a style since the new growth...

My hair had a buildup of other products and, since it wasn't time for my shampoo, I did a rinse-out. I applied the Kinky-Curly leave-in detangler before I let my hair dry and put it up for the night in some sloppy cornrows. This morning, I used some JBCO on my scalp and applied just the tiniest bit of the KeraCare leave-in conditioner to the rows. I took the cornrows out and used another teensy bit of KeraCare while I did my comb-out.

You can see my hair growth when looking back at a December photo.

Had leftovers of a texturizer. Kinda like it.

What you can't see is how soft my hair feels. There was a slight feeling of product until it sort of absorbed (after about 15 minutes), then there was no dampness or oily feeling at all. My hair feels a little bit 'sponge-y' but in a good way. There's no coil to my hair right now because I picked it instead of doing using my fingers to style it. I did just spritz the back with some water to see what happens. The water gave me some curl formation, but I'm going for a fluffy 'fro today.

Both products seem to work really well. I am loving the KeraCare the most. Because the Kinky-Curly is so pricey, I probably won't buy anymore until I have more length. I will definitely be getting more of the KeraCare. By the way, I like that neither product has a "smell". I sniffed the containers and the Kinky-Curly is almost odorless (there is the slightest soap-like scent) and the KeraCare smells a bit like body lotion. It's not unpleasant.

I think that the KeraCare is going to be something that works for all hair types, but especially for hair in the 4 range.

So, if you are wondering about these products, that's my take on them. (Now let me go do something to style these naps!)

Peace
--Free

***REVIEW*** Glade Wax Melts and Plugins Scented Oil Customizables

I received and coupons for a Glade Wax Melts and a Plugin Scented Oil Customizable starter kit. I got  the freebies to  try as part of my BzzAgent membership.

First off, the wall plugin unit is really pretty. It's also pretty big. I have a TrueAir (filter) plugin which I love except for its size. The Glade is not quite as large and it's very lightweight, but you can see how the two items compare.

Glade on the left. (Scuse my messy room)

Not sure if my glasses help for size relation, but...

I do love that the unit is pretty. The photo doesn't capture how nice it blends in with my decor. (Probably because my 'decor' at 4 a.m. is jeans and purse tossed on the floor next to my bookcase!)

You can't tell, but I have the Glade plugged in to the top outlet. There is room for using the bottom outlet. I can't do that with the TrueAir which takes up too much space. To be fair, the TrueAir is filter. But how cute is the Glade plugin?

Hmmm... I need to tidy the bookshelf!

Now, looks are important, but the fragrance is the real key, right? So...

I am going to give it some more time because after two hours, I don't notice much.My room is maybe 10x8 - not tiny, but not a gangsta-sized space. I turned off my air filter (not the TrueAir, which I unplugged) and closed the window that I had cracked the teeniest bit.

Still... nothing.

Usually, I have a candle burning or a different brand of wax melt going. I've scented my room nicely with a tealight candle. Mainstays has a 3oz Lemon Cake candle I get for one dollar. Whenever I light it, I gain half a pound just from the wonderful smell. I guess you can say that I was a little disappointed with the Glade Plugin.

Don't forget that I also received a coupon for a free set of 8 wax melts. I decided to see if they work better than the plugin.

A bit thicker than other melts

See? (Hope I don't get in trouble for the penny.)

When I picked out the melts at the store, I'd noticed that it was hard to catch a good whiff of the Cashmere Woods melts through the packaging. I did get a faint hint though. I assumed that the melting process would bring out the goodness.

Nope.

I hate to say just how disappointed I am. More so for the plugin because of the pricing (over $8 here in Alaska) and because of the expectations. I checked out some of the other Glade products while at the store. Nice scents and much more noticeable. In order to get a feel for the Customizable plugin and the wax melts, I had to get my nose right down next to both.

Since BzzAgent is great about supplying coupons to share, I've handed out some to 5 people so far. Pretty sure I won't hear back from the people I handed out to while in the store, but I have some friends and family who are going to use their coupons soon. Can't wait to hear what they think. Good thing is, they are the kind to pick a totally different scent from what I chose Maybe they'll have a better opinion. I will be sure to update this review when I get their feedback.

Bottom line for me: If I had to score this on a scale of 10, I have to give both items a 3. Great design on the plugin, nice size on the melts, but... ~shrug~ I don't want a great-looking but useless person in my life. Same goes for products.

I'm not quite done yet. (I know. I go on and onnnn...)

Here's the thing, because I got a refund on something I returned to the store, I went ahead and picked up a Glade automatic spray refill. I don't remember what the original price was, but I got a markdown price of around $2.00. I chose the Cashmere Woods (which, for some reason, I keep calling Cashmere Mist) scent.

Sprayed the whole apartment & tons left in the can

Now THIS is something I can love. Spray it and the air smells like someone walked through the room wearing a light perfume very well. I'm not kidding. It's a sort of soft, Oriental-hued scent. A couple of sprays made my room smell like a relaxation chamber. Mmmm... So nice. It's a very lasting scent. Love that. The way my room mate smokes, I need to buy this by the freaking case.

Peace
--Free

Natural Girl Hair Tales

We've all been warned to be careful what we wish for. Just weeks ago, I was wishing for my hair to grow a bit faster. With the mild chemo meds I am on, I'm having to constantly battle to care for every nappy strand on my head.

I remember when I used to complain about having hair. Too much of it, too thick and heavy... At one point I even went and had it all chopped off. Thought I wouldn't miss being able to snatch my hair into a ponytail. The style was cute as heck, but after about three weeks, I got tired of flat-ironing and gelling it to keep up the look. I'm not lazy when it comes to my appearance, but getting up almost two hours before work just so I didn't look like I didn't give a damn got old real fast. Of course, this was pre-sarc. For a fix I only had to throw in a couple inches of weave and wait out the grow period. These days, I'm so afraid of damaging the little bit of hair that I have that I don't even like to use bobby pins.

How many ladies out there know where I'm coming from?

Going all-natural was my first step in getting my hair together. No more straightening relaxers or mild texturizers. I even started using gentler shampoos and styling products. Being natural makes me feel somehow more 'in touch' with myself. It's also fun. Whenever I have a bad hair morning, I look at something like this -

Thank you, Pinterest

Then I just laugh and laugh.

I've also had a few teary moments. One of the reasons I went natural is because I thought it would save money. Yeah, right.

When I used relaxers, I'd get a $5 - $8 box product about every three and half months. Because my hair was so short after the medical treatments, I could stretch two touch-ups from each box. With relaxed hair, I had a small flat-iron, some general combs and brushes and a a few accessories to pin down or dress up the tresses. Shampoo and conditioner lasted forever. I went natural and lost my mind trying out different products. For what I pay for a good curl cream, I could keep Motley Crue in makeup or years. Just ridiculous.

Right after I went natural, I accumulated curl 'puddings', softening lotions, shine serums, oils, scarves and plastic conditioning caps. I have a box so full of products, I could hawk them for grocery money. Some worked. Most were too heavy, oily, stinky, sticky or runny. I used one that made my hair look like a chick with a stylist and chauffeur on call. Until I went out in some -2 degree weather. That shit sent my hair into corpse mode: chalky and stiff.

Now that I have found a few products that work for my hair, it's not the money factor that's killing me. Nooooo... My new torment is that my natural hair has a natural mind of its own. I can wake up one morning and these naps just look luscious. Wake up the next morning and I don't know whose hair I've got on my head. Then, of course, there's the whole you-can't-be-lazy-and-beautiful thing.

I just love the natural chicks on Pinterest

That right there is the stone cold truth!

I'm not too lazy to tie up my hair at night. I even like doing it because I have some cute scarves and I like the way I look wearing them. The problem is that I usually sleep out of the scarf sometime during the night. I woke up to go to the bathroom the other night, saw myself in the mirror and had a ten-minute giggle fit. The damn scarf was hanging down inside the front of my t-shirt. It was like I had just sat it on top of my head and said "Hell with it". If I don't lose the scarf completely during the night, I usually wake up looking like a drunk pirate. Not sexy. I have fears that I'll manage to strangle myself one night. With a cute scarf. Damn.

There are good hair days though. I love the look I get right after a shampoo. Curls popping and not crunchy. Yes! That lasts if I splurge and use one of my 'good' products for moisturizing. I'll do that if I have to, but, let's face it, I'm single. No one's snuggling close enough to feel these curls. I usually use the cheap stuff that just makes my hair look touchable. Saving that good stuff for better days ahead.

I just got some new products courtesy an Amazon gift card (sent from an app developer for my feedback - hey-ey!). This is stuff that I would never have spent money on without a trial.

Leave-in detangler

Leave-in conditioner

I've heard great things about both products from all the natural hair sisters out there. When I use them, I'll post a review with pics.

That Kinky-Curly Knot is no joke price-wise. $15.80 for 8oz. I'll be using that sparingly. The KeraCare was slightly less expensive at $6.38 for 4oz. I don't know how it is for delivery elsewhere, but the shipping costs are stupid for Alaska addresses. Merchants must think we get a PFD every month! For $25 in products, I paid over $20 for the shipping alone. Crazy, right. This is why I don't order from Amazon as much as I'd like to. You know it doesn't cost that much for a padded mailer. Pshhh!

Anyway.

I'll try to get to those reviews soon. In the meantime, my hair is calling for moisture. Let me go drench and tie it up for the night. Before I go, I have something for those sisters who think "nappy" is a dirty word. Nobody is buying your ancestry lies, ladies. Straight, curly, nappy, kinky. It's your hair, you might as well claim it.

Claim your hair, girl. Claim your hair!

Peace
--Free

Mood Music and Poetry

No matter what I'm feeling, I can usually find something something breathed out by another creative soul to catch my mood. Sometimes, that's a comforting thought - like when I realize that almost everything I feel (from physical desire to blind utter despair) is covered in the poetry of the Bible. Sometimes, it's absolutely chilling to know that my deepest fears and worst thoughts are represented by some artistic person in this world.

As a wanna-be novelist myself, anyone else's creative expression makes me feel that I am in unique company. I can't sing, but I hear songs and think, "Yes! That's just what it feels like." ("It" might be pain or worry or joy or madness.)

Though I love music, I often unintentionally re-write song lyrics as I sing them loudly (and badly, badly, badly) while dancing around my apartment. I try not to sing as loudly while I'm driving, or anywhere around the very young or very elderly for fear of causing internal organ trauma.

Before I get too far off subject, here are some songs and poems that fit certain moods. I hope you like them:

If you are sad

• x..... A Little Sadness (Auphy Zophy) love this!
• "Mmm" (Laura Izibor) not really a sad song, but comforting.
• "Sad Violin" (Thao Nguyen Xanh) beautiful, not depressing.
• "The Wolves" (Bon Iver) 
• "Sitting On the Dock of the Bay" (Otis Redding)
• "In the Upper Room" (Mahalia Jackson) comforting & hopeful
• Words from Psalm 56:8 always move me: Thou tellest my wanderings: put thou my tears into thy bottle: are they not in thy book?

If you are in love, out of love or just confused

• Almost anything by D'Angelo, Melody Gardot, Ella Fitzgerald
• The Staple Singers and Marvin, of course. Just stay out of trouble.
• "To Be in Love" (Gwendolyn Brooks) my very favorite
• The Bible's Song of Solomon has a verse so beautiful, it might make you weep.
• This poem by Langston Hughes is reported as his first. It's another favorite poem.

Just because I loves you-

That's de reason why

My soul is full of color

Like de wings of a butterfly

Just because I loves you

That's de reason why

My heart's a fluttering aspen leaf

When you pass by (Hughes 28)

If you need to dance or do anything else to work off stress

• Beth Hart just kills it. She's so badass & I love her work. Get her if you need to move, pretend you can move or if you feel love.
• Go oldies with The Temps, Lionel, or LTD
• Go new with whoever you want to. I almost gave myself whiplash trying, so I'll stop here.

Getting back to mishearing lyrics, here's a fun fact: There is a name for mishearing/misquoting lyrics - "Mondegreen". Interesting...

More Interesting: The origin of the word.

Most Interesting: The one mondegreen I'm not guilty of is the funniest one ever. ("Desperado, you've been outright offensive, for so long now" (Real lyric: "You've been out riding fences," The Eagles.)

"In Da Club" (by 50 'Fitty' Cent) is one of my favorite songs to have a dancing fit to. My family will never, ever let me forget that I always heard the words as "We gonna slip a tardy" instead of, "We're gonna sip Bacardi." Think that's bad? This next line puts me in a league of my own: I hear "toes down, be's up" instead of "hoes down, G's up." (I just thought he was doing the country grammar thing!) That's what happens when someone my age listens to music way out of generation. (I still like my 'version' best.)

Peace
--Free

Ruthie, Ruthie, Ruthie...

I'm too lazy to look back at posts to see if I ever mentioned my friend Ruthie here. Put it this way: if I've talked at all about writing, I've talked about Ruthie.

Ruthie is that friend everyone wants to hide from every now and then. She is great, really, but she can be like a bad toothache. The pain is a bitch, but thank god it reminds you to keep up good habits - like brushing and flossing.

The bitch-pain part of Ruthie is that she has more faith in me than I sometimes have in myself. I say I want to be a published novelist. Ruthie knows I'm going to be published someday. She's not going to give up on me even if I have to kill her and write about it from Death Row to make it happen.

We have a pick-up-where-it-fell-off kind of friendship, Ruthie and I. She's married. Has been since the first days of elephant jeans. Actually, if I'd stayed with my first husband, Ruthie and I would be wishing each other Happy 30th anniversaries soon. (Yeah, I do have regrets.) The hilarious thing is, Ruthie and her man divorced once for a few months and got back together but none of us count the breakup. Ruthie gets busy with the "renewed" marriage and her two grandkids (yeah, another thing for me to "what if?" myself about) and our separate lives get in the way. Plus, she lives in another state which forces us to use the phone and internet to keep in touch. The last time we dropped the phone-call ball was last year when I had a minor romance and Ruthie was moving with her husband into a new house.

The other day, Ruthie saw my post about Amazon's writing contest. This blog is her way of peeping in on my life, I guess.

My phone rang at around one this morning.

Those too-late-to-be-good calls always stop my heart for a few seconds. You know how the brain's worry cortex - or whatever it's really called - kicks into gear before you're fully awake, right? Who's sick? What happened? No, God, no...

I've already had enough bad, sad and frustrating news in the past few months to last the next decade. I never even thought to look at the caller's I.D. so I was pretty relieved to hear Ruthie's maniacal cackle when I answered my phone.

"Girl! You sleeping?"

Yeah. That's my Ruthie.

"Sleeping, scared straight, having a minor heart attack. Whatever."

"So, listen. What are you submitting to this contest?"

Ruthie was talking like she was calling during a lunch break. One a.m. here means four a.m. where she is. Really, heffa?

"I'm trying to submit sleep to the contest of 'Be My Ass on Time to a 7:30 Doctor's Appointment'," I told her. "What the hell is wrong with your clock?"

"I got a Keurig for an early anniversary present and I've been trying all the different coffees," she said. "I haven't slept in four days."

"Well, I have a twenty dollar Living Essentials one-cup maker that drips mostly water, so I was sleeping just fine."

"Ooh, girl. We're going to have to get you a decent machine," she came right back. "You know how you get without a good cup of caffeine."

I kept reminding myself how I love this friend of mine. And I really was glad to hear from her - even at the ass crack of before dawn.

"Back up. You got a coffee pot - for your anniversary?" I wanted to know. "What's really going on with this 're-marriage' thing?"

"I got myself the Keurig," she said. "Calling my Keurig a 'coffee pot' is like calling Denzel a 'man' Now, what about this contest?"

One-track Ruthie.

"I'm working on something, but I don't know if it will be done in time."

"No excuses," she said. "Get it done, girl. Just. Get. It. Done."

"I can't rush my process."

"What process is that? The one where you criticize yourself to death while you're writing, then delete everything and start over?"

This is what happens when you have a friend who knows you too damn well.

Ruthie did her full routine. She nagged, she encouraged, she made me feel way more intelligent that I am. By the time she finished, Hemingway was a hack who learned under my mentorship in a previous life.

"Yeah, okay," I gave in. "I will get something submitted. I might go crazy trying, but..."

"Good. Now, are you seeing anyone special?"

I ended the conversation right there by reminding Ruthie I had to be up soon to drive in messy weather. Basically, I damn near hung up while she was still talking. If I let that woman get started on my love life, I'll be married before Valentine's Day.

Hmmm...

Peace
--Free

R.I.P. Kita Cat

Wanted to post these photos of one of my best buddies ever.

Our beautiful cat, Kita, had to be put down yesterday. He got into something that poisoned him. I never thought I'd be so heart-sad about losing a pet. I refuse to cry because I might not be able to stop.

Kita was supposed to be a girl. Hah! We figured out the truth after we named 'her' Kita. He was also supposed to be my sister's cat, but he adopted me as a second owner. I was newly diagnosed with sarcoidosis. Wasted with fatigue and depression, I was too sore and predni-fat to move out of a camp chair set up for me on the back deck. I'd sit there in almost all 18 hours of sunlight, crying, dazed and hallucinating. Kita was just a little ball of fur. I'd only come inside so that I could hold him on my lap and not worry about being so alone. No one else could get near me without getting singed with my roid-rage.

As Kita got a little bigger, my doctors realized my meds were causing my hallucinations and irrational rage. The meds were decreased somewhat so I didn't cry or lash out as much, but I still slept only a couple hours a day. Kita never slept as much as most other cats. He roamed the house and would try to claw his way through the screen door to get to me.

Silly, precious cat. The reason we tried to keep you indoors is to prevent exactly what happened to you.

When I got well enough to move into my own place, I couldn't bring Kita because I'm not supposed to breathe in the dust from kitty litter. No matter. I visit my sister a lot. Any time I'd go over, Kita would come from wherever and remind me that I mattered. He had this thing about tapping my hand at each rail as I walked the stairs. She only did it for me.

I'm going to miss you, Kita.

Peace
--Free