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.

Sunday, November 27, 2016

Turkey Day and Beyond

Thanksgiving was surprisingly low key for a day spent with Trump supporters, lesbian couples, Evangelical acquaintances and a few assorted oddballs.

If you recall I was somewhat on edge because I was afraid my friend and her husband would be talking politics and their love of our President-Elect. I'm not quite ready as a liberal to politely smile and swallow back refutations of the lies many of his supporters spout. But there was no political discussion thankfully. I did not need to go into the guestroom and guzzle a shot or two of tequila.

I truly adore one half of the gay couple, spending much of the meal talking to her and her partner, likely the only other craven liberals at the table. They told me a funny tale of being trailed around Wal Mart by an older guy in a electric cart eager to insert himself into their duo with about the same level of sophistication in his come on as some of the elder guys I deal with here. I told them about Mr. No Fat Chicks and the well dressed older gent in the adult diapers. I guess it happens everywhere, and it's just as funny and wrong for everyone.

The unknown Evangelical couple turned out to be wonderful folks without the hideous prideful judgmental behavior of many I know in that world still sport. The wife was able to give me some options for getting Pedro into Costa Rica without a rabies shot. Apparently you can get a vaccines titer blood test done and that's enough with the USDA paperwork and vet report to get the vaccination requirement waived.

Here's where it gets crazy on that. Only a handful of places require vaccinations to import an indoor house cat. The USA does not require it, they recommend it. Hawaii has strict requirements. Confusing. I'm going to be talking to someone at the consulate now that I have the right contact information now and ask if I can get the titer test accepted and the vaccination requirement waived.

One highly amusing thing happened during the day. Mrs. Drama, the lady I'd been warned about, decided to sit next to me at the meal and since I'd been copiously warned about her propensity to gossip and back stab I managed to deflect most of her questions with almost monosyllabic answers, 'Yes,' 'No,' 'Louisiana,' 'South,' and 'Cajun'. I sat there smiling while she tried to engage most everyone at the table in conversation. Most awkwardly our hostess accidentally let it slip that Mrs. Drama's daughter had accepted at job in Vermont and was moving there post-haste. Her daughter had shared it with my friend, but not her mother. It made for one very long tense moment over pumpkin pie. Most everyone at the table had known. Her mother had not.

But that's not the thing that made me laugh a bit inwardly. It was listening to this lady carry on about how her brain power, overall smarts and IQ test scores had jumped up phenomenally once her primary hobby was changed to 'intellectual reading.' Yes, I was seated next to a bore bragging about her intellect. I had a little fun with that, by asking her what her reading lists consisted of, mentioning certain recent books, like 'Hillbilly Elegy'. When she started ticking off the lists of authors it was pretty obvious her library was either Agatha Christie type mysteries or mass marketed paperbacks.

See, here's the thing. Don't brag that you're an expert at something or possess this or that trait if you cannot back it up with reality. Don't talk a big game only to be exposed as a phony. Someone else will eventually figure out that you're completely full of something else, and it's not always the very thing you are claiming. Pretty much why I would never claim to expertise at much of anything. I am a professional dilettante with fumbling thumbs in lots of things. I've seen this self-claim of expertise too many times during my years in the Evangelical Quiverfull world and most of the time it's someone speaking out of their rear end trying to impress others.

Don't think I'm bashing what she's reading. It's not what she's reading, more what she's claiming and how her reading list does not support her claims. I read copiously and while I have to admit I usually tend towards history and books from some of the university presses I do sometimes read things that I would be embarrassed to admit to publicly, like those books by former Hugh Hefner girlfriend Holly Madison I read this summer. I spent a painfully boring week in rural Mississippi bedridden with those awful periods I used to get with a big bottle of Tylenol 3s and the only reading material available being an elderly relative's collection of Harlequin Romance novels.

Reading is one of my favorite occupations. I love it. In a lifetime stuck in my miserable malfunctioning body it's been the greatest of escapes and lifts one above most pain. One of the greatest gifts my mother gave me was teaching me to read at a young age and instilling a love of reading in me.

Being relieved of the duty of cooking the enormous meal, cleaning, hosting family and others was such a relief. Last year I hosted for friends and went to family gatherings during the weekend. Not this year. I baked a few things and made canapes. With the planning and packing that's about the most I can handle on my plate.

We stayed to help out with the clear up after everyone else left and for the guys to watch a little football.

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

The Medical Cluster-You-Know-What

I've not written much in the last three months here because I had severe asthma from Jim unsealing the storage room and hauling the boxes out, followed by a cold I picked up from him, followed by a two week bout with the flu, followed by mrsa - AGAIN!!

But nothing could have prepared me for the almighty hellacious cluster-eff that my bright and early Monday morning appointment with a new pulmonologist at UVA morphed into.

Back history. My recent local pulmo closed her practice and quit giving everyone three days notice. I'm replacing her, deciding finally that I need to just bite the bullet and go with the research hospital folks, but not as far away as the doctors I was seeing at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. I love Baltimore but that 3 hour one way drive three times a week for vocal cord therapy, allergy testing and evaluation for a possible bronchioplasty took a big chunk of my life for three months.

My new doctor is a youngish woman with a Chinese name and she seems very nice. I was in her office for 90 minutes for this initial consultation. She's referring me to the allergy team and several other specialists. I also ended up being re vaccinated for some childhood vaccinations before leaving and having a pile of blood drawn.  She also wants to do a reevaluation on doing that bronchialplasty. And there are newer better biologic drugs at her disposal besides my old standby of Xolair.

Here's where it all went shitty and truly horrible, which ended up with me leaving the UVA ER against medical advice before the day ended. When I walked in and they took my blood pressure it was high, not just normal white coat syndrome high, but stroke and heart attack level high. They took it no less than 4 times over that visit and it only came down a few points.

I tried to point out I have an active mrsa infection in my eye and that if she'd read my medical chart she'd see I sometimes have crazy ups and downs with my blood pressure in reaction to allergies to various meds and/or chemicals. She kept asking me if I had chest pains and a headache, swearing I must have had a horrible headache. I explained except for the pain of the eye infection and my sniffling allergies I felt fine. I just wanted to go home.

No dice. I was handed a prescription for mild blood pressure drug and frog marched down to the damn ER to be treated for high blood pressure before leaving. After a lengthy wait and some intern trying to march in there and give me various drugs including a whopping Ativan injection I realized they were not going to let me go, their plan was to a) dope me stupid so I could not drive and b) keep me till my blood pressure came down.

Now I live a good hard  ninety minute drive by backroads from the hospital and they're about to fill me with things that are likely to affect my ability to drive? Not happening! I felt fine.

Ended up leaving them and driving home. Had my blood pressure taken at the local pharmacy and it was about  15 points down, still too high but easing out of the danger zone. Once I got home I checked it again and it was down from that. By the end of the night I was safely well below the stroke level.

Risky, I know, but I think I made the right call on it.

I realized climbing into bed that the only other time I had that crazy high blood pressure reading was when my cpap machine malfunctioned five years ago and I had to replace it. Examined my machine. The stupid mask and tubing are old and have hairline cracks. Fortunately I had recently gotten replacements and I had to replace the mask and tubing. The next morning my blood pressure was much much closer to normal.

I usually have low blood pressure, in fact I've had problems with low blood pressure in the past. One of the reactions I have to meds I'm allergic to is that my blood pressure will drop too low and I'll pass out. Years before when I'd also popped that insane high level I was put on the lowest amount of the mildest pressure med. Three months later I was in the hospital with a bout of low blood pressure so bad I could barely walk much less sit up.

This is all so damn irritating. I was also told to 'cut the stress' in my life. How in the hell do you do that and keep on living and dealing with life? I did immediately jettison some of the things that are stressing me out, working on counting the offering, helping lead the team and a pile of other things. Dropped cold. I don't need the hassle while I'm feeling like crapola.

Tomorrow will be interesting. I'm spending the meal with Jim, a very fundamentalist couple that love Trump from our old church, her lesbian daughter, the daughter's career military wife and the military woman's mother who is supposedly a horrible trouble maker and assorted semi religious folks. I asked the hostess if she cared if I had tequila in my purse. She laughed. It will be interesting if nothing else to watch people who think homosexuality is the worst sin ever mix with two lesbians. A family member told me I had to go, if for no other reason than to observe and report on the chaos. How do I get myself into these things. Three Thanksgivings ago I attended the potluck filled with relatives and wife-swappers and I thought that was the weirdest most uncomfortable holiday this side of the ones fueled with alcohol and simmering resentments from my Louisiana childhood. Tomorrow's holiday just might steal the weirdness crown from Turkey and Swapping. I think I'm going to have to have a pre-turkey tequila shot or three.


Monday, November 14, 2016

Mr. No Fat Chicks Rides Again

This week has been stressful, like I said towards the middle of last week. We did finally get our new fridge in and I'm having official First World Problems with it, like only a cluelessly over entitled middle class middle aged white woman would have. I have to actually bend down --bend down!!-- to look into it since I got the model with the up top freezer instead of the French doors and bottom freezer like last time when I got the Mercedes Benz of cold storage. Yeah, First World Problems.

I'm very fortunate and I know it.

Last week I had more than a few nights of insomnia before I managed to find some solutions to the things we're dealing with. The house is slowly being gutted of belongings. I decided my shoulder isn't bad enough to warrant three times a week physical therapy. I'm going to try to get a rabies vaccination waiver for my Siamese cat Pedro. He had cancer two years ago, he has Mast Cell Disorder and is likely to have another bout of cancer if they vaccinate him. Trying to find out now if I can get the requirement for the rabies vaccination waived because of his health issues. Better than trying to find a new home for him. He's my baby.

Other things are working out on their own and I managed to get through church, a few community events and phone calls with relatives without any ugly words or threats or gloating over the election results. Not all of my friends have been that lucky. Again, I realize this is white privilege at work again. One of the things Jim and I have looked at this week is where we can volunteer, or give funding or protest. Was going to originally go on several of the protest marches this weekend but I'm still suffering from a fever and the flu.

But today things are back to weird and funny, like usual. This morning I had to run out to get kitty litter. The weather has turned cold and none of my guys will go outside to relieve themselves any longer. While I was crossing the parking lot at my nearby grocery store I ran into Mr. 'No Fat Chicks'..

I first encountered him about three or four years ago in the same parking lot. He pulled up in his car, a car plastered with bumper stickers saying just that 'No Fat Chicks' and 'No Ugly Chicks' and his license plate reads some variation of 'No Ugly Girls'. He can be seen frequently wearing some sort of t-shirt with his jeans that has some sort of rude sentiment towards women, like the same thing on his car, 'No Fat Chicks' or 'Ask Me I Might' or my all time favorite 'Stud'. Seriously.

This isn't a young guy either. This man is on the wrong side of 60, not thin, not good looking or even particularly well groomed.

The day I met him he waved me over from the grocery cart corral, indicating I needed to help him out of his car and into his motorized scooter. I did help him out, he can barely walk, shuffling the few feet from the car into the scooter. At some point in this, while he was hanging onto my arm for support he made some sort of Lothario remark to me, like some ancient pickup line from the days before disco, very inappropriate and out of place at exactly the wrong moment. I smiled and told him I was married. He made a 'hrrupmp' type noise and told me I was too fat for him anyway.

I almost fell over on the ground laughing when he said this. It was so out of the blue.

So now when I see him at this store I go out of my way to avoid him and it seems likely that he might be half blind on top of things because I have noticed that he will wave women over for help, but only within a twenty foot radius or so.

Today he was headed out as I was headed in, resplendent in his 'No Fat Chicks' t-shirt and fleece pajama bottoms printed loudly with the legend 'BEER'. The basket of his scooter held a case of the cheapest canned beer. I bit my tongue to keep from giggling and stayed well out of the range of his limited sight.

Things are back to weird and weird I can handle better than stressful. Weird is good. God bless that poor 'No Fat Chicks' dude wherever he is.

Wednesday, November 09, 2016

Marriage, Puking, Refrigerators and Never Trump

The last few days have been stressful again, yet at the same time a example of how conflict and disagreement in marriage is handled at the same time I'm reading Lori Alexander's ridiculously immature book on marriage.

Remember the freezer drama? Giant enormous high end fridge packed with meat in the freezer compartment randomly dies Thursday night? We scramble and pack everything into our ancient wheezing rusting 1960s freezer in the garage, the one so old the interior is turquoise blue.

Called the repairman I trust and he couldn't come out till Monday morning. Negative perspiration because all the frozen stuff was saved. Willing to wait for my awesome appliance repair guy. Hooray for horde! In the garage!

Saturday morn, we get up bright and early, finding that now the fridge is warm. Lots of scrambling with copious ice chests and ice. Bummer, but hey, repair guy coming Monday. This fridge was horrible expensive ten years ago and bigger than a Buick. Jim asked how expensive the repair will be and I tell him what price range I think it will run because the few times it's broken down like this it's been the same thing, a shorted out circuit in the computer motherboard that powers this sucker.

I spent Saturday disassembling the entire thing, running all the shelves and compartments through the dishwasher, taking the opportunity to GI the entire thing to a glimmering sparkle. From bad and inconvenient there's always some small benefit, right?

By late Saturday night I'm laying in bed, mentally running the list of all the many things I have to do this week on the three month countdown till our Costa Rican move, meet people from Craigslist who are already buying our furniture we're not taking with us, taking cats to the vet to discuss what vaccinations need to happen for the move, going to the Ortho to have my possibly torn right rotator cup injury evaluated, tasks involving church and the counting of the offering and a million other things. As I'm laying there trying to de-tense my notice my stomach feels weird just about the time Jim comes to bed. I try to sleep but eventually get up, thinking if I could just throw up I'd feel worlds better even if I'm not sick to my stomach. It's just a dull ache.

But by the time I get to the master bathroom my stomach has decided sudden to boot out everything I'd eaten earlier in the day. I manage to throw up copious amounts.

While this is happening my poor husband gets out of bed and wants to know if I'm alright, if he can do something to help. I laugh, thank him for his kind thoughts and tell him as disgusting as it is I have it all under control. Just go back to sleep, I tell him. He offers again and I tell him again I'm okay and I'm going to just go ahead and stay up till my stomach settles.

Just about the time he settles back down to sleep I feel the need to throw the other end on the toilet and while that's going on I end up projectile vomiting all over the shelving I store all the folded up towels on and my feet. I manage somehow to get puke on every towel, every hand towel, every wash cloth, no mean trick, but still not as impressive as the time my son managed to puke on the ceiling. I still haven't figured that one out.

Jim again offers help and I tell him to just go back to bed. I got this all under control. As I put the towels in the wash, mop the floor and take a shower I cannot help but contrast the simplicity of married partners offering help even in the most stomach-turning moments and I just know somewhere out there are those Christian men who's response to the wife having gastric distress in the middle of the night would be to tell her to be quieter because she was waking him up and absolutely no offer of help. I pity those women and I think a lot about the roles of helper towards each other that everyone with a heart, compassion and selfless love for their significant other gladly fills.

Again I am humbled, amazed and so happy that we escaped the cult church.

What has been difficult since then is a couple of things. We face some hard decisions on what to do with our Siamese cat Pedro. He has issues and our vet is not recommending that we take him with us. The shoulder injury is going to require physical therapy appointments that I do not have time for between now and the move.

But the biggest challenge is getting a new refrigerator. When the repairman came out late Monday he told me that the repair was going to cost more than a new fridge. We're going to be renting out our home, which means I'm not inclined to buy another top of the line bigger than a Cadillac fridge. Plus Jim hates, hates, HATES having to make decisions about home repairs or big appliance purchases and has been known to dither and drag his feet. In my old submitting Quiverfull days I'd pray, wheedle and semi-manipulate all the while walking around eggshells, on that stupid frustrating tightrope between feeling like my needs weren't being met and trying to herd him along like a drover with a reluctant sheep.

This time I did none of that. I took him with me to look at models after I'd already done some research on what was available. I knew I didn't want to spend much money because we're leaving it for the renters, but I didn't want something too small and unreliable. Today I told him we must make a decision and actually buy the thing. I wasn't waiting any longer because schlepping ice around was no fun.

We had a long discussion about the fridge and he realized from that thing that Evangelical Christian couples never do, rationally talk, that I was stressed pretty much to the max by the things happening, the amounts of endless work for the move we're dealing with, the flu I've been suffering from since late Saturday night and waking up this morning to discover that Donald Trump was the president elect. It's now or never, as they say.

We bought the fridge. We both agreed on a good mid-range model on sale that Consumer Reports rated as the official best buy on their list. They're delivering it tomorrow morning, I have drug around my last bag of 7-11 ice for awhile.

But here's the things we don't agree on for this week, what to do about our Siamese cat, the selling price for one room of furniture, if I'd be better off with physical therapy or surgery on my shoulder and we couldn't even agree on who to vote for even if neither of us voted for the president-elect.

And you know what? That's all perfectly fine. We don't have to agree on every thing. Things will or will not work out. The new fridge might be a lemon or an awesome deal and that's okay too. We do that thing so discouraged in fundamentalist evangelical Christianity - we discuss in a rational adult non- attacking and no personal insults way.

While Trump is not my first, second or third choice I'm thinking that in our nation we're going to have to do the same as citizens, parley, discuss, listen to each other's points and sometimes compromise in the coming days. Accept the things that cannot be changed, be adults and talk.

Thursday, November 03, 2016

La Tentacion Pre Election

I think the whole freaking world is starting to jitter apart at the seams in the crazy tension ratcheting up in the last few weeks. I know I've been triggered heavily and I'm starting to see things that make it seem that everyone else is triggered in some way or another.

This afternoon featured one of the absolutely weirdest things I've experienced in a long time. Jim and I were sitting at a stoplight in Manassas near Costco, car filled with foodstuffs, tired even if it was mid afternoon and headed home. I could see the homeless guy with the sign asking for money way before we got anywhere near the intersection. I usually give these guys a few bucks if I have it, but this one was just giving off batshit crazy vibes before we pulled up and he did not disappoint. When it was obvious we weren't going to give him money, that we'd pulled up several lanes across from him on purpose he started screaming and yelling 'GOD BLESS YOU' over and over again before starting to dance and sing a song with lyrics about 'jigaboos' and 'n!ggers'. We were horrified, jaw-dropped, this guy was the entire basket of deplorables at the same time. It was like that scene in 'Vacation' in East St. Louis where Clark Griswold tells the entire family to roll up the windows.

This week I've witnessed folks I know at a church function with pro-Trump clothing proclaiming that they were 'Proudly a Deplorable', along with doxxing Evangelical Christian bloggers, others whining about giving candy out to illegals and poor folks while wearing their gaudiest big crosses and others claiming to be Christians that seem to think that the central message of Jesus was hate everyone not like them. It's discouraging and frightening.

Yes, I realize most of my recent posts here are negative and complaining, and I'm not liking it at all. But it's the general zeitgeist swirling around making me feel despair for our society. I wish we could overwhelm and overpower this negative with love. Unfortunately I don't have it in me right now. I just want to go huddle inside, with chocolate, cats and books until things calm down a bit. Perhaps this overseas move is coming at exactly the right time.

~~~~~~~~~

It's not been all negative. Halloween was a blast. I dressed as a crazy old cat lady and gave out candy at the Trunk or Treat thing at church. I ran into a little girl also dressed as a crazy old cat lady and we bonded, took photos together and gushed over our mutual love of kitties.

Today we spent the day at the university our youngest works at. She did graphic recording on a large scale for the employee excellence award ceremony and received a book scholarship towards her masters program. We went out for lunch, feasting on Banh Mi sandwiches for National Sandwich Day.

I've read an enormous amount of books in the last two weeks because I've been fighting off a cold and done a large amount of crochet. I have stacks of cat butt change purses to go up on the Etsy page and a stack of broomstick lace scarfs in a rainbow of colors. Out of every not so good circumstance there is a small blessing.

At least that's what I'm trying to tell myself that to get over the annoyance I felt upon coming home from Costco and finding that the freezer compartment of my expensive newish refrigerator has kicked the bucket. We had to plug in our old chest freezer and schlep several hundred bucks worth of meat around.

I think I'm going to bed. I'm done for today.

P.S. To the Evangelical blogger that's doxxing a lot of people who are writing less than glowing reviews of a certain writer's book: Here's the dirt on me. In 2010 I had 4 parking tickets and I had a dispute with the IRS that ended with them writing me a check. I have several family members I don't talk to because their crazy is too difficult to parse. I am sometimes forgetful. I sometimes curse. I sometimes am very impatient with others and their crappy driving decisions. That's it. I live my life like an open book and there's really nothing you're going to be able to scare up that would shock anyone, not my name, not my address, not what I do for a living. Have at it. But I don't think Jesus would approve of what you're doing.