Thursday, December 08, 2016

Hillbilly Heroin

I know one thing about myself that's been reinforced over the last 24 hours. I could never be an oxycontin or opiod addict. Never, ever.!

Years ago when I was on Vicodin for months on end while my orthopedic doctor and insurance company wrangled over my carpal tunnel problems. During my months on it I dutifully took it, took stomach meds and antihistamines to deal with the side effects while I went through the months of physical therapy before and after surgery.  Concluded then, based on my experiences, Jim's hatred of taking opiods and all the crazy shenanigans I witnessed during my years at the clinic by opiod seekers that those that become addicted must have something wired differently in their brains. Sort of like how I love cilantro in my food and Jim says it tastes like soap to him. Something that makes some people susceptible to craving opiods and the rest going 'Yuck! Tastes like soap and puke!'

HATE the way that shit makes me feel! I know there are folks out there that crave that hideous numbness of emotion and pain, but it's just something I do not like at all. Add in the nausea, the random puking, dizziness and junkie itch and there's even less reason to take it.

Used to be I only got the junkie itch and numbness, now I struggle to keep down food and stand or sit upright. After a night of up and down throwing up, down and sideways I'm contemplating trying to sleep without it, flayed open nose with nasal mask or not. Has to be better than having my stomach trying to exit my mouth every single time Jim turns over in the bed all night long.

It's going to be either pain or puking. What a freaking choice. At this point I think I would prefer the pain.

I had pill hangover still till afternoon. Jim and I went out for Chinese food for lunch and I could not eat more than a few mouthfuls before starting to gag. But I took it home and managed to eat it after the dry heaves wore off. Score! I didn't have to cook dinner.

Oddly enough when I popped up online this morning to update No Longer Quivering someone pm'ed me on Facebook that I didn't know and.. drum roll please... tried to sell me some weed. Insert huge laughing smiley here! It's still illegal! And this chump is hawking it via Facebook messenger! I was amused but blocked him immediately.

Had a tiny bit of fun with the Maw In Law earlier. She wanted to know what I was buying with the big check she sent me. I told her I was buying a gold plated Siamese cat. I hope hostile Sis in Law picked up that I'm joking though, or I might find this hurled against me at some point in the future during her endless recitation of my crimes.

I'm thinking about using the money to fly down to see my mother and take her to South Florida for a wee vacation. I need the ocean badly again. My health would straighten out quickly if I could just swim in the ocean.

Am I Loathesome Tonight?

Sitting here waiting for a narcotic pain pill, or a couple of them, to kick in so I can go back to sleep. It's late, I'm in pain and cannot sleep.

Biggest surprises of the week. Getting a couple of thousand dollar check from the Maw In Law tucked in with that awful Christmas letter. At least she managed to remember my name when it was time to write the check. She's always been so generous, but this was a huge surprise!

The other pleasant surprise was going into church like a condemned man facing a firing squad on Monday morning only to find the financial officer/bookkeeper lady I've been locking horns with had already started straightening out Sunday's cluster of an offering count. Turns out I was right on the amount and my pal Sharon had entered a large pile of things two and three times in the computer program. She fixed it and miraculously we balanced! Perhaps I've been wrong about her.

Unpleasant surprise. Mrsa infection is back, worse than ever. I look right now like I got a whopping dose of lip fillers, all swollen up like a Restylane injection to the upper lip. Spent the day at the hospital and doctors offices, getting some IV antibiotics and having biopsies of parts of my nostrils and sinuses. WITHOUT much numbing. I cried and wailed. It was pretty awful, hence the narcotics now. This infection is different in that it's involving from the upper lip into the sinuses and up to the eyes, all the spots infected together at once. For shits and giggles I'm wacked out by this because I have a fever of 101.5.

Having my brain operating on stuck on stupid mode right now made updating NLQ something of a challenge this morning. I better start feeling better quickly or things are going to suffer there.

Things around the house are suffering because I'm too sick to do more than load the dishwasher. I had to make fruitcake on Monday because several of the elderly relatives I usually send fruitcake to commented how much they were looking forward to my homemade fruit cake this weekend. Didn't have the heart to tell them I wasn't making fruitcake this year. 

On the intriguing side a couple of things went down this week. First a guy I know well from church, a decent guy with a PhD and years in the banking industry is in jail in Korea. He fell for some version of the Nigerian scam. Looks like he's going to jail for a very long time. It just goes to show you that anyone can fall for a scam. His poor family! I hope they manage to get a good attorney and show that Mal was a victim of a scam.

The other thing that happened was a former neighbor of perverted patriarch Vaughn Ohlman, a guy I've written about extensively at NLQ contacted me. I was gobsmacked by the information he had. He claims that during the 1980s Vaughn was on a mission trip and tried to cop a feel or molest some boys. Now I always figured that Vaughn was a possible sexual predator, but the info it was boys he tried to victimize completely blows me away. I would have assumed it was 12 or 13 year old girls with large breasts since they seem to be the focus of his dirty mind in his book and website. I wish I could post it up at NLQ, but without any real reason it feels weird and grimy to contemplate doing so. Ugh! So so weird!

Sunday, December 04, 2016

Cluster You Know What Again

I think I'm done with church now for all time and eternity. As in done done gone forever done.

Today has been an absolute misery.

About 18 months ago Jim was asked to head up the teams that count the offering. Keep in mind our church is the biggest one in about four or five counties, so counting after the three Sunday services is not the most easy of tasks, even if it is one of the most vital.

A year ago I stepped up to help with the first Sunday count. In that time we've gone through three accountant/financial folks, who've had three completely different ways that they want things done, three sets of requirements and three different ways of handling folks. This last lady has been a nightmare to work with.

Last week I took myself off helping out everything involved with the counting team because of my stress levels and blood pressure, only agreeing to count on the first Sunday until we leave the country. After today I think that has to end.

I did the count with my usual partner Sharon today and the computer program (and maybe operator error with Sharon, I don't know) kept screwing up. I would keep doing the physical count and running an adding machine tape. We were right on the first service and the second service counts if you subtracted the computer program errors that we could not fix (counting some entries double). But the final service everything went all to hell. Long story short either the computer or my partner did things like add in a 2K check three times and other snafus that the computer would not allow her to correct in the system so the numbers I had and she had were way way off.

Sharon kept insisting I was off, that the adding machine was screwing up, but, as I pointed out and showed her the tapes I kept coming up with the same figures every time. By this time it was almost 2 pm and we'd been there locked in the counting room since 9 am.

I took a short break to go to the restroom and got flagged down by the church gossip in the hallway. She asked me what was going on I told her we had some computer issues that was making getting a solid number in the system next to impossible.

Faith, that's her name, proceeded to tell me everything that the pastor, the other volunteers, the office staff and the accountant were saying about us incompetent fuck ups. I started to cry at the nasty river of evil coming out this woman's mouth and went off to collect myself.

It's a sore spot, volunteering and never being once thanked, just being treated in a high handed demanding fashion that this new accountant is using. It's starting to feel like Possum Creek 2.0 right now.

If that wasn't bad enough Faith followed me back into the counting room and kept on saying crap. I muttered something about Jim and I leaving in few months. She wanted to know where and why and I told her of our plans to retire to the beach in Central America and Faith started crowing about how Donald Trump was running off craven liberals like us, how shitty we were for being such crybabies that we're leaving rather than staying and accepting that we lost.

Told her no, she's assuming things again, that we would likely do much better with our investments under Trump and that this retirement plan was something we'd talked about for years and been planning for a couple of years now.

But the damage was done, by the time she left I was white faced and shaking, with Sharon insisting again that my adding machine tape was wrong. I told her to pack it up, I did the deposit based on my figures, shot the accountant a note to tell her that the computer program or Sharon has messed up massively so the deposit did not match the reports and she would need to fix that.

A whole day shot on this bullshit on top of being way-layed by Faith. I'm so done. They can shove their thankless tasks up their ass as far as I'm concerned. I'm done with volunteering for places that abuse you and take you fore granted. Even tempted to tell the pastor off right now since Faith lingers around the office purposely picking up gossip about everyone and he will do nothing about it.

Saturday, December 03, 2016

BBQed Christmas Letter

Had confirmation today that the awful mangled crazy version of my Maw In Law's annual Christmas letter officially went out a few days ago. It's the quiet before the storm now, but soon my phone will be ringing and filled with the outraged tones of my side of the family upset about my entire family's exclusion from acknowledgement. Shrugs, what are you going to do?

We met the kids halfway between our house and Fairfax for dinner tonight. We were celebrating Laura's new job. It's still at George Mason, but instead of working with employee benefits shes going to be the newest trainer in the HR dept. Big promotion, big raise and it fits in well with her Masters program studies. So proud of that girl. She's fearless and badassed!

It was great seeing her, my son Andrew and Laura's boyfriend for dinner. We had a great meal. I just wish I had felt better. My mrsa-esque infection has moved from eye to left nostril to lip to right nostril. I'm going to see if I can squeeze in to see my infectious disease doc on Monday or Tuesday because the antibiotics are doing nothing and this is VERY painful, which makes me think it's mrsa again. Gonna get them to culture it and confirm.

Feeling like crap sort of put a damper on the evening and once Jim called his mother, the Christmas letter cheerful fictionalist, more wet blanketing occurred. She started telling her son and both of my kids how she was now ready to die, she had nothing left to live for and just wanted to die.

I didn't speak to her, but I could hear her weak frail voice on the phone sitting next to Jim and I'm starting to wonder if she's having either low oxygen levels again, or the common anxiety that strikes the elderly. Since I'm Satan Incarnate to my new sister in law I see no way to ask one of them to take her back to the doctor to check for those possibilities. Jim's going to ask his brother to do that at my insistence. Yeah, we're still doing the whole 'no contact' thing with the sister in law almost a full year later. Better not to feed the whatever she has going on.

One of the things very common in the elderly I observed during my time at the medical clinic was not only dementia, which the Maw In Law clearly has, but this free form floating general anxiety.

Some of the elderly patients had it bad, one lady had it so severely that she was routinely, we're talking every other day or so, in the local ER reporting all sorts of odd things that made zero sense and complaining she was freaking out from stress. A little Ativan injection and she would be sent home. Oddly she refused to take any of the meds the doc prescribed for daily anxiety control. She had a whopping big prescription for the pill form of Ativan and other anti anxiety drugs but it was hell to convince her she needed to take her meds daily.

I'm starting to wonder if my Maw In Law needs a chemical cocktail daily to help with the dementia and attendant anxiety. This is one of the big frustrations of living so far away and not being in the loop of her daily care. Had to push six years ago for them to bring her to a specialist who deals with the special health challenges of the elderly.

But then again I think my mind is starting to go and I'm a good forty years younger than my Maw In Law. Because of my crazy allergies I started making a lot of my own things, like laundry soap, deodorant, and host of other things. I am almost out of soap and decided this morning was perfect for soap making. I crumbled two pounds of raw organic shea butter into my enamel pot I use for crafting, chopped, measured and assembled the other ingredients in preparation of a soap cook. Went to get out my soap molds and.....   realized when I took the empty box down I store them in that I had donated my cheap crappy ugly soap molds to Goodwill last month during that clean, organize and give away we did to lighten up our possessions for our likely overseas move. Yeah, I gave them away.

Guess who just ordered new very nice soap molds from Amazon? Me!

The amusing of the soap making is that Jim saw the shea butter sitting in the pot on the stove and assumed it was butter. He took a taste! I hope it's not toxic.

Friday, December 02, 2016

Christmas Card Conundrum

With all the excitement of being sick, working on packing the house up and now the Christmas letter dramaz I really fell down on two important things I do every single holiday. a) I made no fruitcake and b) I didn't buy, address and stamp my Christmas cards during the Thanksgiving weekend, all ready to send out closer to Christmas.

Even though I took over the official role of family fruitcake maker back 26 years ago after my great aunt died this year I'm skipping the tradition. Too much sugar. Trying to control my blood glucose levels so I can stay low even when I get infections or react to medicines. It's too much of a temptation to taste one's own goodies and have a hefty knock of French brandy every single time you brandy the fruitcakes.

But when I went to get Christmas cards this week I found that either I'm late buying them or most places are not carrying very many. I end up having a very hard time getting cute or funny cards. Since leaving Fundytown I usually get the funniest ones I can find with a cat on them.

Took seven different stores before I found something acceptable. Which leads me to wonder, is Christmas card sending another thing going by the wayside now? Like not making or eating fruitcake, or pagers, or VCR players?

Thursday, December 01, 2016

The First Awful Sign of Christmas

Last night and this morning brought the first annual sign that the Christmas season has officially kicked off. No, it was not buying and sending out Christmas cards, or putting up the tree.

It's my Maw In Law's annual Christmas letter, something I've come to dread like a long slow deep root canal.

Don't get me wrong. I love my Maw In Law, she's been great to me through the years and we have always gotten along very well. I happen to loath her hideous bragging ridiculous annual Christmas letter. One year I made fun of it here, listing the real things that had happened in her family and what she said instead.

Her letter has been a problem for me since the first year of marriage because she always manages to anger my parents and my other relatives with what she says, or doesn't say, about my children, me and my husband. I hear about it. I get outraged phone calls from my side of the family ranting about this damn letter, and have to explain again and again that I cannot control or even attempt to control my Maw In Law.

The letter is pretty hypocritical. In the early years of my marriage to her son she would tell me that she thought I was doing the right thing to be primarily a stay at home mom while my kids were young, putting down my career-oriented Fortune 500 company VP sister in law for having a nanny and staff raising the other son's children.

But when the letter would go out it would have lengthy glowing descriptions of my sister in law's awesome career, all the places she, her husband and kids traveled and did. This would be followed by a short sentence mentioning my poor husband and once in a great while mentioning me, but not by name of course and our children.

It was an annual exercise in humiliation. She would say how much she valued the stay at home mothers and their care for their children, but would say just the opposite every year in that letter.

Ten years ago I finally worked up the nerve to tell her how hurt and humiliated her letter made me feel because of the frequent lack of inclusion of my children and I, and the tiny amount she wrote about my husband, her eldest son. She claimed it wasn't on purpose and was better about it, at least for a few years afterward.

But I have just finally moved on past that, I don't give a rip what she does or does not say in those letters. I know they are gift-wrapped bullshit, so when Jim's brother called last night to say that this year's letter was sheerly awful I just laughed, said 'whatever' and left Jim and brother discussing it.

Turns out the Maw In Law got important details wrong about a recent family wedding, only mentioned the bride and the bride, Jim's brother and the hated new sister in law in the letter, skipping the brother's children, other relatives that usually get space on the letter and everyone else on our little Virginia offshoot before adding some rather bizarre paragraphs about our new president elect.

It sounds and reads like the demented ravings of someone with dementia, which isn't surprising considering she is 94 years old.

Jim and his brother do not want the letter going out like that. Jim heavily edited it and then called his mother with his suggestions. She's upset and refusing to budge an inch on changing the letter. I had to point out to my husband that anyone who knows her and reads that letter is going to realize she's not in her right mind and not hold it against her.

Does any of it matter anyway in the long run?

At least it's not an endless recitation of glory and luxury and European vacations while sweeping all the bad stuff just right under the rug.

Here's the thing about these Christmas letters. People that know me, that I care enough to stay in touch with, that genuinely care about me,  know what's going on with me, warts and all. No bragging needed.

The letter that killed me with laughter was the year of Jim's brother's divorce, two of the nieces came out as gay, another relative was indicted for embezzlement on their job, another died of liver cancer and something else bad happened, but somehow my Maw In Law found ways to either spin these things as glorious positives or just ignored what really happen for a sanitized fiction that would have done Hollywood proud.

I'm not saying you should be very negative all the time, but for God's sake, do not gild a turd! As my Cajun great grandmother used to say, and I wish I could remember it in Cajun French - this is a rough translation. You can polish a turd but all you end up with is a shiny turd. You're not fooling anyone. Just write your letter saying you were greatly blessed this year, add a few highlights but nothing over the top bragging and end with wishes for a wonderful holiday season and new year for your recipients.

Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Tossing That Name Around

One of the funnier things happening lately is that Jim and I have been gigglingly tossing about the name 'Lori Alexander' in a joking fashion during certain times of our day.

I've been reading and rereading Lori's book on turning your marriage around from bad to good by being uber-submissive.  It's pretty clear it's just another attempt to control her husband by being Godly enough so God will change him into the perfect husband. This is one of those bedrock things that no one will ever admit to in Quiverfull, but it underlies most women's decision to drag the entire family deeper into the strange wilderness of fundamentalism. Unhappy marriage? Force God to deal with him by being ultra righteous.

Here's the problem with that. It just never works. You just end up increasingly frustrated and upset, burdened by the multitude of 'must-dos' and blaming your lack of righteousness for the assholery of someone else. The ultimate in no win situations until you end up at the literal breaking point. Or worse.

I've been thinking about this book a lot, and how it almost guarantees negative changes in your marriage and your own eventual collapse.

Ultimately people are only responsible for themselves, not their family or those around them.

There are lots of points in the book where Lori is talking about trying futilely to control what Ken eats and how resistant he was, what a frustrating thankless task it was. Today I walked into the kitchen around breakfast time just in time to see Jim eating several cookies with a go cup of some sort of cappuccino. I looked at Jim and said, "Cookies for breakfast?" He replied "Yep" and went right back to his cookie inhaling. I laughed and said "You know Lori would not approve." and he laughed too.

Last night he could not settle into sleep, ending up waking me up too and then he made a half-hearted appeal for late night sex which I brushed off quickly. I wake up less than nice before coffee, even in the middle of the night, so after I said a distinct 'No', telling him I wasn't going to be his penis sleeping pill he laughed and said, "Lori would not approve."

"Lori would not approve." has turned into a funny game and a way of levity in our lives now. At least there's some use for this book. I turned the last book I did a lengthy review of - Vaughn Ohlman's 'What are you Doing?' into fuel for the backyard fire pit. I suspect this book is going to join it in the flames lest someone impressionable get a hold of it and take the words inside seriously.


At the same time this levity is going on there have been some serious and not always agreeing discussions going on about this Central America move. Jim's been changing his mind about where we're going, how we're going, and everything else over and over again. I finally had to tell him that this was seriously stressing me out. Pick a plan, a doable legitimate plan and stick with it. Pick a moving date and stick with it. Every day the plan has been changing.

What's happened is the educational organization that he paid a hefty fee to take their course and become certified to teach English overseas hasn't been 100% honest on what's available out there in Central America. So far we're had to turn down -

  • A job offer from a school in Northern Mexico that offered to pay plane fare, meals, room and board after finding out that the pay was 5 bucks an hour, the meals and rooming were one small bedroom without air conditioning in a rooming house with a shared bathroom and the cook serving beans and rice for every meal.
  • A job offer in Columbia, for much more money but still not enough to consider uprooting everything in our lives to live in a big city.
I made it clear to him that perhaps we should just pick a place, go visit again, visit lots of places and make plans from there. Look for a part time job teaching English once we're done there. I think we're chosen a couple of beach communities in the Costa Rica and Panama areas on he Pacific that aren't so developed. One of the Panama beaches you can get a townhouse on the ocean, a luxury place with a hot tub for the huge sum of six hundred bucks a month. I am down for that. So expect to see traveling photos to Central America again in the next few months.

Managed to communicate to my husband that I was not going anywhere without checking it out first, I was extremely stressed out and uncomfortable with his suggestions so far and if he wanted my cooperation for the move he'd have to change what was happening. I'm not going to a place I've never laid eyes on before with zero idea of what's really there. Not happening.

Submitting to a man who cannot make up his mind can have disastrous consequences. Better to make your needs and negotiables clearly known upfront when things do not play out like you'd hoped.

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Cleaning Clarification

Earlier today I posted on Facebook that I had a threat of legal action from an 'idiot' for using her own words and some folks made assumptions that I was talking about someone involved in the unfortunate Carol Ann Cole case.

I wish it was something like that. I can see being incensed and passionate about finding the murderer of an innocent young girl.

Sadly it is just another Christian mommy blogger who waxed stupid about how all of God's creation was done in an orderly fashion so that means we are to keep our homes 100% organized, orderly and neat to be Godly. I quoted that for No Longer Quivering's 'Quoting Quiverfull' feature from this random gal's largely uninteresting housekeeping and homeschooling the Godly way blog.

Yeah, it's all fun and games until someone falls down and breaks a hip or develops a life long ailment, then you see just how ridiculous and futile living with that type of thinking is. 

She sent me an email something like ten days ago with a threat that I must take it down immediately or face legal action. I only found the email because it was caught in my spam filter and I was in the spam filter looking for a forwarded piece by one of our writers that had not shown up in my email box yet. Gmail sometimes just randomly decides something is spam when it's not and I have to go on a wild cyber goose chase.

I laughed long and hard at her threat because copyright laws do not apply to discussions as long as the quoted words from an article or blog posting are around 250 to 300 words and you are using it as the basis of critical and analytical discussion. Plus our hosting company has lawyers that handle this stuff. Plus I'm quite stubborn and contrary. Plus I have a headache from hell today. Plus whiners annoy me, unless it's me doing the whining, heeeee.

Flippantly answered her back and snipped out her writing with a note that she's miffed she was quoted and had an expectation of privacy while she's blasting her extra Biblical crap all over the interwebs. Also explained on a new page at NLQ that quoting for discussion is allowed under so many words and there are lawyers available on my side too.

Sadly I do not get the same quality of whining come to Jesus throwing Christians that my pal Bruce Gerencser gets over on his blog The Life and Times of Bruce Gerencser. But I was never a pastor, only a worship leader. Small potatoes on the hit parade of fundy-Amway downlines.

In Which I Realize I Am Being A Bitch

One of the biggest challenges I've been involved in this year is helping Jim do the counting team for our church. The biggest church in about four counties. Lots of money flowing through it weekly.

The other part of that challenge is that people just burn out, or feel unappreciated and quit without notice. Family members die, emergencies happen and that crazy old sun just keeps rolling around all day. My point being that you cannot predict the needs and behaviors of others.

It's been going better over the course of the last year since Jim took over....until recently. We got a new lady to run the church financials. She's young, she's extremely introverted, but the problem is that she does not have a clue how to handle, talk to or treat anyone volunteering. We've had people quit the team in the last few months after flubbing up some aspect of counting and having the new financial admin come down on them like a merciless pile of bricks.

I've gotten caught in her pile-on myself. Last month I had to count three different times and she thinks nothing of calling me in, me, and I'm not even the head of counting, and making me fix the deposit.

This has all been adding to the stresses of this likely overseas move, adding to my crazy spiked up and down blood pressure. When I spiked the high blood pressure and ran away from from the ER one of the things I did was immediately quit everything to do with the counting team except for my one Sunday a month I did agree to count at. That I can handle and my counting partner Sharon and I work well together, like a well-oiled machine. It's not stressful and we both have specific roles we do well.

Last night was supposed to be a training for the teams to bring everyone up to speed run by our new financial lady. I'd already told Jim I was not attending because I'm just done trying to help this lady and the team.

The first job I was able to score when we were living overseas on a military base was being the volunteer coordinator and outreach for the USO. I learned quickly that you have to oh so carefully couch your words and directions without any blame or negative even if the volunteer did everything short of wipe their butt with your desk calendar. People are touchy about any criticism over their level of competency if they are volunteering and they have a point. Volunteering is a choice and completely controlled by the volunteer. You make someone doing something good feel bad about their actions and they will leave.

I took those lessons forward into my life and through my years at my old church and always remembered to treat those helping out with gratitude, even when they messed up, like we all do because we're human. It's helped to remember these things during helping Jim out.

But Jim kept twisting my arm, insisting I go, even as he knew I'd already knocked heads with the finance lady more than once now over things like coming up with a counters policy. I went. I knew I shouldn't have immediately because I could feel my blood pressure riding once it was obvious that finance lady was not going to train the teams, like she was supposed to be doing, like she was paid to do in this time. She was standing around watching others counting last Sunday's offering without offering any suggestions, explanations or real help. Definitely no training at all.

I kind of had absolutely had it by that point, and I jumped in to help, make suggestions and explain why we were doing things the way we were. She was there to train and would not train. Weirdest thing ever.

By the time she took out her one page policy page and gave it around I'd kind of had it. I snapped at her that one brief page was not adequate because most of everyone on the teams did not have an understanding of the software program without a breakdown step by step. I'd already told her this several times before via email when she sent it to me and she'd never bothered to reply to me.

I realized a couple of things. It's not my job to train those people, it's hers and she should be doing it. I'm not on this planet to pick up the slack of other people. Also, this is stressing me out to the point where I'm behaving in a very unpleasant way, snapping at her and jumping in to train these folks when she wouldn't. I stopped and left the training right then and there because I don't like the way this is making me feel. I hate flipping the bitch switch, but something had to happen. I went home.

Sometimes the best thing you can do is realize when a situation is stressing you out and making you act like you normally would not act, like a bitch, and removing yourself immediately.

Thank you flying spaghetti monster that we are leaving the country soon and I will NEVER have to worry about if the count is done and if I'm going to be called into the church to recount in the middle of the week.