We Were Stalked by an Owl - Revisited

This post was written in April of 2008, when still in Idaho.

First I have to set the scene.  In my effort to feel productive, I've been getting up by 8am for the last 3 mornings. This hasn't proven difficult at all, but about 5:30pm today, I needed a nap. I set the alarm for 6pm, just wanting a tiny, short nap - a power nap. 

Next thing I know, it's 10:00.  I thought it meant 10am in the morning.  I lay there for several minutes, disgusted with myself, telling myself I failed at my new plan to reform after just 3 days. Imagine my horror when I got up and it was DARK.  Instead of thinking I'd overslept that nite and into the next morning, I thought I'd overslept that nite, into the next morning and into the NEXT night again!!

So to say I was disoriented is an understatement. 

The next horrified thought was the dogs hadn't been outside for... I had to pause my panicked disorientation to do the math... from 5:30pm yesterday to 10pm "today".... 28 hours!!  Does anyone know how difficult math is when one is mathematically challenged and had the grades to prove it, AND disoriented from taking a 28 hour long nap.  AND with MS???  I swear MS took any ability I had with numbers.  Clocks included. 

The next problem was deciding what to wear when one is just GETTING UP at 10pm after a 28 hour nap. Regular daytime clothes or pajamas?  While believing one's dogs haven't peed in 28 hours, which puts an element of HURRY into it?

Finally, I got outside with the dogs. Who oddly seemed more interested in the refrigerator than going outside after 28 hours of not peeing, which should have been my first clue.  But I figured they must be disoriented too - they thought it was time for dinner. Which only makes sense, since supposedly they'd missed last nite's dinner and tonight's dinner was late. But still.  One would think after not peeing for 28 hours, peeing would be priority.  I certainly skipped my own need to pee, in my efforts to get them peed.   I'm sure I've mentioned MS giving me pee problems.  Peeing them first is how much I love my dogs.  The sacrifices I make. 

As I walked out to the field behind the apartment, wondering how in the hell I slept thru 3, yes THREE piercing cell phone alarms... one for waking up from the nap at 6pm, the wake-up alarm at 8am, AND a 3pm Physical Therapy alarm... I felt a WHOOOSH over my head.  The kind of whooosh you can both hear and feel from the air rushing by.  Muttin ran to my side, whining. Since I was still in Disoriented Hell, I didn't pay attention.  As I continued to walk down the field, trying to justify a 28 hour nap, and wondering if I should report such a nap to someone medical, since I blame MS for everything wrong in my life - Muttin continued to whine.  Eventually I saw something out of the corner of my eye, above us, flying to the top of a telephone pole.  The moon was bright, and with it reflecting off the snow, it was bright enough to see that it was a HUMONGOUS owl.

From the time of the first whooosh to the time of seeing the owl was the length of 3 telephone poles. I kept walking, watching both Muttin and the owl. The owl flew ahead to the next telephone pole.   I stopped dead in my tracks, and called Jeffrey to me.  This whole time, Muttin hadn't left my side and hadn't stopped whining. Now normally, I am Miss Facinated by Every Single Move My Puppies Make, since they are so adorable, and I would have noticed out of the norm behavior, but did I mention my 28 hour nap? 

I realized Muttin knew all about that owl, from the first whooosh to the 3rd telephone pole.

I started walking again, cause I didn't want that owl to mistake me for a tree, by standing still.  I wanted the owl to see me as the Protector of My Dogs, and I figured walking was the best way to show the owl that I wasn't a tree, because being a tree would make it okay to swoop down and grab a dog with it's wicked talons.  Notice how danger sharpened my previously disoriented mind... I knew the word for owl's feet.

As we continued to walk, the owl flew ahead AGAIN to the next telephone pole.  It didn't care about my Walking to Prove I Wasn't a Tree impression.  It was biding it's time.  It was stalking us! 

I tried to remember everything that I'd learned about owls, and realized it was next to nothing. The two things I did remember created a quandary.  One, they were wise, and two, they had good eyesight.  I recalled something about radar senses, but that's for bats.   And I wondered if they had a good sense of smell, cause that would sure be nice if they did, cause surely then it would smell the Human Protecting The Dog Meat Puppies, therefore, it would be stupid to do any more whoooshing anywhere near me and the dogvmeat puppies.   So the quandry I settled on was, if they were wise, surely it knew better than to do anymore whoooshing and/or if owls have such good eyesight, surely it saw that my dogs were too big for it's wicked talons. Right?

Or maybe, God forbid, in the things that I didn't know about owls, when I was supposedly learning about owls, IF I ever did learn about owls, but had forgotten everything I ever knew about them, not knowing that someday I'd be stalked by an owl, maybe it was bigger than I thought, even tho it already was humongously, freakishly LARGE.

Jeffrey was scampering around like a carefree dog who didn't know he could be ate up at any moment, so I called him near, picked him up, and marched us home, the length of 5 telephone poles.  Singing loudly, "Ahunting we will go, ahunting we will go, hi ho, the derry-o, a hunting we will go". Probably not the best song under the circumstances, but you try to find an appropriate song when you need a motivational marching song for deep snow while being stalked by a dog killer in the middle of the nite.   

Normally, it's Muttin I have to pick up, since she is the rebel and will take off running, but she was still glued to my heels.  In fact, she was so glued, she kept tripping me, her own version of the kamikaze games she normally plays on her brother, throwing herself cutely under his feet when he's running.   Which made me fall twice into the snow, a foot deep, at least, with Not a Care in the World Jeffrey in my arms.  Who would scamper off between falls, putting himself in, unbeknownst to him, Danger Dumb Dog. 

We got home safe and sound, where I finally realized that my nap had been from 5:30pm to 10pm of the same day, it wasn't the next day after all.   My brain literally hurt.  I fed the dogs.  I decided to have oatmeal for dinner, just to play games with my head some more. 

As I ate the oatmeal, I went to the Internet to find where I could report a humongous freakishly large owl who stalks people and their dogs.  I'm convinced it's a mutant and needs to be turned in to the proper authorities to be studied.  Or at the very least, put in jail, or a zoo. 

Amazingly enough, there wasn't much to find about Idaho owls.  There is a guy doing research on voles, lichen populations, and voles use of lichen.  This makes perfect sense, how owl research turned into vole's eating habits, as one would think voles are a owl's natural diet, rather than dogs.  So to know about voles eating lichen seems vitally important.   Lichen being the mossy green stuff on trees and rocks.  I think.   As always, with the Internet, lack of knowledge on one subject just leads to lack of knowledge about another and I wasn't about to look up lichen.   I was determined to keep my vole in check. (Vole being a kind of mouse.  Not the mouse that does the clicking all over the Internet).  Tell me how funny I am.

For the first time since feeding my dogs raw chicken, which is a whole nuther story involving Jeffrey's anal glands, I relished  the sound of doggie jaws crunching on raw chicken bones. Normally, I cringe.  And have bad dreams about bone splinters rupturing their little tummies.  But tonight, I said "Take THAT, you damn chicken, who's close to being related to owls!"

And to think, not too long ago, I've had communion with wolves and ravens, as totems.  At another time, I would have seen this owl as a sign of some sort, a message to my life.  Ha!  From here on out, let it be known that owls are my enemy, and I shall speak to no owls.  Or listen.  Ever.  I'll use my own damn wisdom thankyouverymuch.

Maybe researching owls who eat voles who eat lichen will lead to a cure for MS.  What other reason can there be for actual dollars being spent on such a study???

Originally Posted Thursday, April 17, 2008

We Were Stalked by an Owl - Revisited

This post was written in April of 2008, when still in Idaho.

First I have to set the scene.  In my effort to feel productive, I've been getting up by 8am for the last 3 mornings. This hasn't proven difficult at all, but about 5:30pm today, I needed a nap. I set the alarm for 6pm, just wanting a tiny, short nap - a power nap. 

Next thing I know, it's 10:00.  I thought it meant 10am in the morning.  I lay there for several minutes, disgusted with myself, telling myself I failed at my new plan to reform after just 3 days. Imagine my horror when I got up and it was DARK.  Instead of thinking I'd overslept that nite and into the next morning, I thought I'd overslept that nite, into the next morning and into the NEXT night again!!

So to say I was disoriented is an understatement. 

The next horrified thought was the dogs hadn't been outside for... I had to pause my panicked disorientation to do the math... from 5:30pm yesterday to 10pm "today".... 28 hours!!  Does anyone know how difficult math is when one is mathimatically challenged and had the grades to prove it, AND disoriented from taking a 28 hour long nap.  AND with MS???  I swear MS took any ability I had with numbers.  Clocks included. 

The next problem was deciding what to wear when one is just GETTING UP at 10pm after a 28 hour nap. Regular daytime clothes or pajamas?  While believing one's dogs haven't peed in 28 hours, which puts an element of HURRY into it?

Finally, I got outside with the dogs. Who oddly seemed more interested in the refrigerator than going outside after 28 hours of not peeing, which should have been my first clue.  But I figured they must be disoriented too - they thought it was time for dinner. Which only makes sense, since supposedly they'd missed last nite's dinner and tonight's dinner was late. But still.  One would think after not peeing for 28 hours, peeing would be priority.  I certainly skipped my own need to pee, in my efforts to get them peed.   I'm sure I've mentioned MS giving me pee problems.  Peeing them first is how much I love my dogs.  The sacrifices I make. 

As I walked out to the field behind the apartment, wondering how in the hell I slept thru 3, yes THREE piercing cell phone alarms... one for waking up from the nap at 6pm, the wake-up alarm at 8am, AND the 3pm Physical Therapy alarm... I felt a WHOOOSH over my head.  The kind of whooosh you can both hear and feel from the air rushing by.  Muttin ran to my side, whining. Since I was still in Disoriented Hell, I didn't pay attention.  As I continued to walk down the field, trying to justify a 28 hour nap, and wondering if I should report such a nap to someone medical, since I blame MS for everything wrong in my life - Muttin continued to whine.  Eventually I saw something out of the corner of my eye, above us, flying to the top of a telephone pole.  The moon was bright, and with it reflecting off the snow, it was bright enough to see that it was a HUMONGOUS owl.

From the time of the first whooosh to the time of seeing the owl was the length of 3 telephone poles. I kept walking, watching both Muttin and the owl. The owl flew ahead to the next telephone pole.   I stopped dead in my tracks, and called Jeffrey to me.  This whole time, Muttin hadn't left my side and hadn't stopped whining. Now normally, I am Miss Facinated by Every Single Move My Puppies Make, since they are so adorable, and would have noticed out of the norm behavior, but did I mention my 28 hour nap? I realized Muttin knew all about that owl, from the first whooosh to the 3rd telephone pole.

I started walking again, cause I didn't want that owl to mistake me for a tree, by standing still.  I wanted the owl to see me as the Protecter of My Dogs, and I figured walking was the best way to show the owl that I wasn't a tree, because being a tree would make it okay to swoop down and grab a dog with it's wicked talons.  Notice how danger sharpened my previously disoriented mind... I knew the word for owl's feet.

As we continued to walk, the owl flew ahead AGAIN to the next telephone pole.  It didn't care about my Walking to Prove I Wasn't a Tree impression.  It was biding it's time.  It was stalking us. 

I tried to remember everything that I'd learned about owls, and realized it was next to nothing. The two things I did remember created a quandary.  One, they were wise, and two, they had good eyesight.  I recalled something about radar senses, but I think that's for bats.   And I wondered if they had a good sense of smell, cause that would sure be nice if they did, cause surely then it would smell the Human Protecting The Dog Meat Puppies, therefore, it would be stupid to do any more whoooshing anywhere near me and the dogvmeat puppies.   So the quandry I settled on was, if wise, surely it knew better than to do anymore whoooshing and/or if owls have such good eyesight, surely it saw that my dogs were too big for it's wicked talons. Right?
man
Or maybe, God forbid, in the things that I didn't know about owls, when I was supposedly learning about owls, IF I ever did learn about owls, but had forgotten everything I ever knew about owls, not knowing that someday I'd be stalked by an owl, maybe it was bigger than I thought, even tho it already was humongously, freakishly LARGE.

Jeffrey was scampering around like a carefree dog who didn't know he could be ate up at any moment, so I called him near, picked him up, and marched us home, the length of 5 telephone poles.  Singing loudly, "Ahunting we will go, ahunting we will go, hi ho, the derry-o, a hunting we will go". Probably not the best song under the circumstances, but you try to find an appropriate song when you need a motivational marching song for deep snow while being stalked by a dog killer in the middle of the nite.   While disoriented by MS and a 28 hour nap.  

Normally, it's Muttin I have to pick up, since she is the rebel and will take off running, but she was still glued to my heels.  In fact, she was so glued, she kept tripping me, her own version of kamikaze games she normally plays on her brother, throwing herself cutely under his feet when he's running.   Which made me fall twice into the foot deep crusty snow, with Not a Care in the World Jeffrey in my arms.  Who would scamper off between falls, putting himself in, unbeknownst to him, Danger, Dumb Dog. 

We got all home safe and sound, where I finally realized that my nap had been from 5:30pm to 10pm of the same day, it wasn't the next day after all.   My brain literally hurt.  I fed the dogs.  I decided to have oatmeal for dinner, just to play games with my head some more. 

As I ate the oatmeal, I went to the Internet to find where I could report a humongous freakishly large owl who stalks people and their dogs.  I'm convinced it's a mutant and needs to be turned in to the proper authorities to be studied.  Or at the very least, put in jail, or a zoo. 

Amazingly enough, there wasn't much to find about Idaho owls.  There is a guy doing research on voles, lichen populations, and voles use of lichen.  This makes perfect sense, how owl research turned into vole's eating habits, as one would think voles are a owl's natural diet, rather than dogs.  So to know about voles eating lichen seems vitally important.   Lichen being the mossy green stuff on trees and rocks.  I think.   As always, with the Internet, lack of knowledge on one subject just leads to lack of knowledge about another and I wasn't about to look up lichen.   I was determined to keep my vole in check. (Vole being a kind of mouse.  Not the mouse that does the clicking all over the Internet).  Tell me how funny I am.

For the first time since feeding my dogs raw chicken, which is a whole nuther story involving Jeffrey's anal glands, I relished  the sound of doggie jaws crunching on raw chicken bones. Normally, I cringe.  And have bad dreams about bone splinters rupturing their little tummies.  But tonight, I said "Take THAT, you damn chicken, who's close to being related to owls!"

And to think, not too long ago, I've had communion with wolves and ravens, as totems.  At another time, I would have seen this owl as a sign of some sort, a message to my life.  Ha!  From here on out, let it be known that owls are my enemy, and I shall speak to no owls.  Or listen.  Ever.  I'll use my own damn wisdom thankyouverymuch.

Maybe researching owls who eat voles who eat lichen will lead to a cure for MS.  What other reason can there be for actual dollars being spent on such a study???

Originally Posted Thursday, April 17, 2008

Cindy Dear...

Has enough time passed?...

Murder at Cindy's House Easter 2012

   It wasn't me!  I walked in the door to this mayhem...

Clearly, it was Annie.
~

Still here at the Airport. Yes, We're Still Trying to Check-In

I last left you with the information that My Laurie was getting angry, and I sensed it, and needed to be a Working Service Animal.  I have to admit it - she's pretty lax on making me work ALL the time.  And we're beginning to trust that we'll be there for each other when needed, despite my goofiness, and her inability to run after mean dogs who are being mean to me in their own little mean ways.  This is one of those times. 

The best way to help My Laurie right now is to Lay Down and Stay.  Staying is the hard part for me, but I can do it when it's needed.  I'm going to keep an ear open too, to see if I can figure out what's going on.






Hmmmm.  He's still not going to let me on the plane.  This is getting serious.

I do so hate it when she's angry.  But I'm proud of her... she's still maintaining.  I think it's My Boy Jeremy who's blowing a gasket.  He's on the phone with My Laurie, and I can hear him from here.  Yelpers, he's loud! 

Hey Mister!  My Boy Jeremy is calling "Bullshit!"  And he gave permission for My Laurie to "go off on you".  Take it from me, Mister, you don't want to see that.  It's not a pretty thing for any of us.  I could tell you about her and a certain bus driver if you'd like.
 

 You better tread carefully, you, you, you Mister Man. 










Or I just might go all Chee Wa Wa crazy on you!

Or maybe I should send my peops after you, Mr. Man!  Yea, that's it!

No, maybe not such a good idea.  Wouldn't want my buds to end up in doggy jail.

 

Better yet, I'll zap him with laser eyes.  

 Or I could give him a black eye... but My Laurie wouldn't "heart" that.  She doesn't condone violence.  

 

Boring Boring Boring Boringgggg

Hmmmm.  I seem to cause her alot of trouble.... .  Wait, I can't think like that.  I HELP her.

 Okay, Mr. Man, why the hell don't you like me?

Maybe if I was perfect enough?  I could try.  I dunnno.... most people fawn all over me.  Makes it hard on her sometimes when she's not feeling good enough to chat.  But she always makes time for the children.  They're my favorite, too.

Wait one minute.  I remember her saying something about not taking things personally!  I could give a rat's ass if he doesn't like me!

Heh heh... My Laurie has a sly sense of humor...

                                    (I guess you had to be there)

Hmmmm

ooops.


To be continued

~

Reflecting on My Trip to Idaho

At my sister's place.  Make yourself at home, Annie

Physically, I was done Johnson by the time the Certain Airlines supervisor gave me a boarding pass.  I needed a wheelchair to get to the gate.  I was afraid to ask him for a wheelchair, pushing my luck about getting Annie on the plane, but I knew I couldn't get there on my own at that point, specially with the long security line, and only a half hour before the flight.  I don't look disabled when just standing there, or for the first few steps, (sometimes it's obvious right away) so while waiting for him to help me after he helped paying passengers, I looked "normal".  I didn't have a problem with waiting - I know paying passengers come first.  I assumed he knew all along that I was non-rev, but when he saw on the computer that I was non-rev, he ordered me to step back so he could help the paying passengers.  I stood down and shut-upped.  (I swear and promise, Jeremy!)

What he didn't see was me getting my luggage from home to the ticket/check-in desk.  I was hunched over, limping and dragging my right foot.  After reaching the airport, I took it slowly, taking an hour to get the the check-in/ticket desk.  By the time he saw me, I was somewhat rested.  I had given myself 4 hours before the flight.  On the second day, I was able to WALK myself to the gate, slowly but surely, because I may have cognitive problems... but I'm not stupid.  I know I cannot hurry.  Jeremy finally understands that I can't make connections if they're too close together time-wise, and he lists me accordingly.  It's a good thing I love airports.  One the second day, I left home a full 6 hours before my flight, and it takes an hour to catch the bus to the train, and the train to the airport.  That meant 5 hours from check in to flight.  I was fine with that, cause I could do it.  And I was afraid of being harrassed all over again. 

I hate to write about the symptoms I get and the trouble I have doing things, such as traveling, because I don't want anyone worrying.  I choose to make the effort to continue having a life.  I LOVE the fact that I can help by house-sitting, because it's something I can actually do.  It's a way of helping those who have helped me so much.  It's way important to me to be able to help back, because I get so much help.  I write about the bad things that happen - it's just that - shit happens. 

I worry that by writing this, my house-sitting friend will be afraid to ask me to house-sit again, knowing how much it affects me MS-wise.  But when it comes to MS, I promised that I would be honest. 

Before my trip, my mom asked me why I put myself thru it - getting to a baby shower on Saturday, house-sitting that Saturday and Sunday, staying with sister (which can be risky temper-wise for both of us) for the next 5 days before it was time for the other house-sitting "job" for another 6 days.  I told her I didn't know.  Because of the shower, definitely.  And that I didn't know all three things would be so close together.  And that Jeremy had gotten me a direct flight, which would help.  And I can add to that by saying planes and trains are the only time I feel pain-free. 

Actually, it's 4 things so close together, because after the 6 days of house-sitting, I come home for two days, and then take a train to Salinas, California, for the parole hearing of the man who murdered my brother. 

No stress there.  Just say'in. 

It's just kinda unfortunate that all these things happened so close together.  But then again... I would not want to travel back and forth in between everything. 

Can you tell that I'm hoping Certain Airlines Googles itself, and finds my blog? (I guess that's not gonna happen, after speaking to my son)(But he's right).

I will admit that after the parole hearing, I will not travel again until I get the wheelchair... 

My god that was hard to type. 

~

The 2nd Day of Trying to Get to Idaho Falls and Let's Make it Clear That This Was NOT Southwest!

Taken from "Certain Airlines Official Website: 

"Certain Airlines (real name retracted by me) is committed to providing a safe and comfortable travel experience for all of our customers, including pets. Because we share our customers' concern that their pets' flights are stress-free, we have enhanced our animal acceptance policy to transport pets as both baggage (accompanying a passenger on the same plane) and cargo. Our program is called We Love Your Pets.  (Again, real name retracted by me)

The program offers the following options:

• Customers can track their animals traveling as cargo online throughout their journey.
• Certain will continue to accept small pets for travel in cabin in applicable markets.
• Certain's policy for service animals, such as seeing-eye dogs, has not changed and they will continue to be welcomed on board or as checked baggage.  (Bolding mine).
• Pets can travel Certain's cargo service offering same day, airport-to-airport delivery with features designed to ensure an animal's comfort and safety."

Tell me if I'm wrong... when one reads that, would one delve deeper into the website to see if there are further requirements for flying with service dogs?  Note where it says, "has not changed", so him telling me it changed a week ago wasn't... ummm, correct. 

I did delve deeper into the website, (yeah, sister's computer!) and nowhere on their official website does it say they require 48 hours notice, a doctor's note, proof that Annie is a service dog, or proof of disability. 

Added Note:  Three days past the event, I must admit to perhaps exaggerating on the proof of disability required part.  He wasn't that dumb.   But it was most CERTAINLY IMPLIED that I was faking needing a service dog, and at the time, I felt like I had to prove I was disabled.  The hour and half seems awfully long, but I KNOW I was at the ticket/check-in desk the recommended 2 hours before the flight, and I KNOW that the man who pushed my wheelchair said we had a half hour before the flight.  So that equals an hour and a half from ticket desk to wheelchair, and the half hour to the gate = 2 hours.  Luckily, people in wheelchairs get to zoom thru security - one of the few and rare benefits of being disabled. 

When I got home, prior to the flight on the second day, I found my paperwork for the service dog tags, my doctor's prescription for a service animal, my Social Security Disability proof of income, and the medical record of my diagnosis.  I included the actual prescription for a wheelchair, in case he would tell me those could be had on the Internet too.  And I gave Annie a bath. 

I also called Certain Airlines to find out where my luggage was.  If it was still in San Francisco, I didn't necessarily HAVE to go to Idaho Falls... my sister could find someone else to drop in on her cats.  The other house-sitting "job" didn't (doesn't) start till this coming Friday.  But then again, did I really want to deal with getting said luggage to the airport again?  That alone exhausted me.  No, I did not. I have over-packed on my last two trips so that I could just leave some clothes with my sister, and then I wouldn't have to pack hardly at all.  Same plan for Denver, where Jeremy lives.  When the Certain Airlines voice mail directions said "Waiting time is estimated to be  20 minutes" before I could talk to someone, two seconds later, a human responded!  He said my luggage was still in San Francisco and I could pick it up at the Lost Luggage place. 

So...on the second day at the airport, after packing a backpack with some clothes in case my luggage got lost again -

Genius.  It rolls, it's a back-pack, and I can sit down!

I approached the ticket desk with confidence, eager to give the paperwork (that I had marked in red marker "Against the Law" on each page) to the Certain Airlines Supervisor.  (Since my computer was dead, I wasn't able to get a copy of their service dog policy, but I trusted my son when he said there was nothing on their website.)  I had everything but the 48 hours notice, but I thought under the circumstances, it could be over-looked. 

Of course, I was no dummy.  I first went to the ticket desk and presented myself as a non-rev with a service animal with 2 bags to check.  The two agents were perfectly pleasant and cheerful and welcomed Annie, saying what a pretty dog she was.  They saw that I had missed the 12:30am flight the night before, and rather than telling them the whole sordid story, I just said I confused the am and the pm.  They sorted it all out in a heartbeat, and checked on my luggage.  It would be going on my flight.  (??? At some point, someone told me it had already gone to Idaho, so that was 3 different stories about my luggage).  They asked me what kind of service animal is my service animal, and I replied "Mobility".  To ask that question is legal.  Sometimes I get confused and say "Golden Retriever".  As they were printing out my boarding pass, telling me the seats were wide open (lots of seats and non-revs will most likely get on the plane), I asked...

Me:  "Don't you need my paperwork?"

Nice ticket agent ladies:  (looking confused) "What paperwork?"

Me:  "For my service dog to get on the plane".

Lovely ticket agent ladies:  "No, we just need to know what type of service animal she is", still looking confused. 

Me:  (imagine that)  "Hmmmm, the supervisor last night wasn't going to let her on, but he finally did"

Fabulous ticket agent ladies:  (looking confused)  Why are you here today then?

Me:  "Pilot No-Show." 

Perfect ticket agent ladies:  (handing me my ID and boarding pass)  "Have a good flight, and we're sorry you had a bad experience yesterday".

It looks like there's a "No" there, but it's security person's initials.  It definitely says "Service animal ok!" 

(Wow.  I just remembered... the Certain Airlines supervisor hadn't asked for my ID.  That's hilarious.  He's hassling me for paperwork that he has no right to ask for, but he doesn't ask for my ID...). 

I saw the same Certain Airlines Employee who herds the humans thru the ticket line, and asked if the same supervisor was there, and he said that he had gone home already. 

Damn. 

At the gate, the pilots saw Annie and came over to introduce themselves, and would I like the bulk-head seats for Annie Darling?  I said Sure, but she's able to sit underneath the seats if need be, but they said that wasn't necessary, and Annie Darling could have more room in the bulkhead seats.  They brought me the new boarding pass with the new seat number on it, and asked if there was anything more they could do.

No thank-you, you've been lovely, I'll just sit here and wait for the plane.  Thanks so much!

~

After Years of Mostly Problem Free Traveling, "Certain" Airline More Than Made Up For It With a Collossal F*ck-up

IMPORTANT AIRLINE TERMS & PHRASES FOR A CERTAIN AIRLINE

Planning:  something most people do when traveling to far-off places on the planet. 

Preparing:  what most people do when leaving there home for an extended time.  Such as making arrangements for their pets to be cared for in their absence, cleaning out the food that will spoil, and cleaning the house so the cat-sitters don't think you're a pig. 

Packing:  required for most people when traveling to far off places on the planet. 

On a personal note?  Planning, preparing, and packing are not my strong points.  My son, tells me over and over that I pack too much and I need to get it down to a backpack.  I totally agree.  So you can imagine the argument that ensues during the packing phase, while I'm alone in my apartment.  Evidently, Self doesn't agree with me.

Non-Rev:  a passenger who either works for the airlines, or immediate relative of the person working for the airlines.  Non-revenue passengers get to fly free or at very little cost. 

Purpose:  reason for traveling.  In this case, it was to attend a baby shower (triplets!) for someone I really care about.  The fact that 2 house-sitting "jobs" came up within a week of said shower is a major component of this document... such as packing for two weeks...

Responsibility:  having certain duties.  Again, in this case, I also needed to house-sit for both my sister and then a friend. 

List, Listing, Listed:  what the employee of the airlines has to do in order to get his immediate family onto the plane.  It's what paying passengers do when making a reservation.  Somewhat of a hassle when it comes to having a mother who's got planning, preparing, packing and cognitive problems.  I always feel sorry for Jeremy when we're going thru this process. 

Certain Airline Employee:  herds humans thru the ticket lines.  He asked if I had permission for Annie, and I said "huh?"  He said he'd have to get the supervisor to check on it and he'd be right back. 

Power-tripping Certain Airline Supervisor Employee:  One and a half  hours of not being allowed to take my Service Animal on the plane.  All of a sudden, Certain Airline requires you bring a doctor's note that you need a service dog, proof that your dog is a service dog, proof of disability (evidently he couldn't see) and 48 hours notice prior to the flight. 

Non-rev passenger:  Not allowed to complain, whine, weep, bitch or beg because, after all, you are flying free or at very little cost.  If you do, it reflects on your son's employee record and you might lose the right to fly free or at very little cost. 

City of San Francisco Service Dog Tag:  Not enough proof that she is a service dog, because "they can be ordered on the Internet". 

Furious:  What son was when I called him to tell  him what was happening.  He told me to go into bitch mode, I had his permission.  I didn't want to, because of his employee record, and it was obvious to me that doing so would make this particular Certain Airlines supervisor get his back up even more. 

Effort:  trying to be pleasant to the Certain Airlines supervisor, while son is yelling in your ear to go into bitch mode, or give the *&^%^&^%  phone to the Certain Airlines supervisor and he would (*&^%^*&^% take care of it. 

Relief:  when power-tripping supervisor finally decides to let Annie on the plane.

"Shut-up":  what your son says when you tell him the Certain Airlines supervisor is making out your boarding pass, and you're saying to this man that this hasn't ever happened to you before.  (Perhaps not an official "Certain Airlines Terms and Phrases" but now that I think about it, the Certain Airlines supervisor really, realllly wanted to tell me to shut up). 

Helpful:  After one and a half hours, what a Certain Airlines supervisor says to you, in anger, "Ma'am, I am trying to help you", after you told him that this has never happened to you before. 

Rush:  having a half hour to get thru security at the San Francisco airport (busy, long lines) and to the gate. 

Wait:  what one does when at the gate and they are waiting for the pilot.  For another hour. 

Cancel:  a word that you do not want to hear at an airport.  Not in any way, shape or form.

Pilot No-Show:  somebody's gonna get fired...

Customer Service Employees:  Saints.

Worry:  imagining your sister's elderly cats (15 & 16) are going to starve to death. 

To add insult to injury:  When standing in line for a new boarding pass for the next flight out (for the next day, thanks, Idaho Falls for being such a small airport), a man ahead of me was all happy cause he got a flight for that nite via Denver or Vegas or something, leaving at 12:30am, and the 3 Customer Service agents kind of hush hushed him, and said loudly there were no more flights to Idaho Falls that night, which implied to me that he got the last seat.  When it was my turn, I said "I want want he has", in a joking manner.  When I told her it was non-rev, the Customer Service agent said she wasn't spose to do this, but she re-listed me for the next flight.  As she handed me the boarding pass, (which means I got a seat), she said it was for 5:45pm the next day.  As I left the desk, she told me to be sure to check the flight times.  I thought, yea... okay... of course I will, nice advice.  I went home, which is no piece of cake, cause I had to get off the train at 16th and Mission, which is a major scary druggie hang-out, and it was 9ish o'clock.  Dark. 

Lost:  another word one does not want to hear at an airport. 

Luggage:  items of clothing, baby presents and medication packed tightly, usually in rectangular shapes and in various colors.  (Yes, I did have 3 days of pain meds in my purse, I'm not stupid).

Decision making process:  deciding there was no way in hell I was going to make the trek back home with 2 pieces of heavy luggage and back again to the airport the next day.  They could stay lost for all I cared at that point.  Dare I admit that sometimes, when travelling, Annie feels like another piece of luggage?  Having her means one hand is always occupied with dog matters.

Diligent:  At 10am the next morning, the first thing I did was check the flight times.  Maybe the 5:45pm flight was really at 7pm, because my son had told me that was the only direct flight to Idaho Falls on a weekend and maybe she realized at the last minute she made a mistake.  I had to look at the boarding pass several times and the calendar.  It said 12:30. ???  I looked at the clock.  It takes an hour to get to the airport.  I was suppose to be going thru Security by now...

Anger, Disappointment, Confusion:  what one feels when one realizes you're going to miss your flight, and you could have gone to the baby shower after all.  Late maybe, but there, if all went well. 

Lo and behold:  She should have given me a "wink wink" when she told me to re-check the flight time.  Because she had given me a boarding pass for the same flight the man several places ahead of me had got - the 12:30am one the night before.  While I was still at the airport.  I would have made it to the shower for sure. 

Alternate meanings for Anger, Disappointment and Confusion:  why in the world would those 3 Customer Service Agents make a big deal out of there not being any more flights to Idaho Falls, if it was not true? 

???:  Something that Certain Airlines needs to add to their website, because that's how they operate.

Certain Airlines Official Website:  a good informational resource for travelers.

To be continued...

~

Busy busy busy

 ~

Wow.  My life just got complicated.

The results of my brain, neck, and spine MRI did not show any plaques.  The last neurologist in Idaho Falls was not convinced it was MS.  My current one feels the same.  I'm atypical because I have the numbness on both sides of my body, and the pain is constant, on both sides.  We've decided no more of the big gun meds (shots) until more tests are done.   Another nerve conduction study will be done in June.  I gave blood yesterday for more extensive lab tests.  Do another one tomorrow after fasting.  Then no more doctors until June.  Except for trying to get the wheelchair, which is proving difficult.  No one seems to know HOW to get one!  I may resort to the Scooter Store after all.

One good thing - she upped my Lyrica, which was the main painkiller.  In Idaho, my dose had reached it's maximum, but down here, I'll allowed another 200mg's, so I am so happy not to have to add something new, when I know more Lyrica will help.

I've been reminded how much stress affects me, cause I've been going thru a friendship gone Mean Girl, and for a couple of days, I could barely make it halfway thru the dog park.  Who am I kidding - I only was able to do half of it.  Thank goodness Annie loves to chase the ball and that I have a Chuckit, otherwise she wouldn't get enough exercise.  

I've got a baby shower to go to in Idaho Falls on March 24th, and house-dog sitting to do in Idaho Falls on March 30th thru April 4th, so I'll just stay in IF that whole week and a half to avoid flying back and forth.

Then on April 10th, there is a parole hearing for the guy who murdered my brother, Dan, in Soledad, which in near Los Angelos, I think.  I've never gone to one before.  His daughter, Heather, has gone to two of them.  His sentence was 19 years to life, and this is the 19th year, so it's an important one to get him to have to stay longer.  I'll be taking the bus or the train, and will get to see my niece, whom I haven't seen since she was just a wee one. 

If you knew Dan/Danny, and would like to write something for the parole hearing, email it to me, and I'll make sure it gets there. 

It would be really nice to get the wheelchair in time for all this traveling.

~

Gennelmen... Start yer en ginessss!

~

Yes, friends and neighbors, it's that time of year again.  The time of year when those of us who live in snowy regions hate the dirty snow piled up one the sides of the roads, and mountains of piled up snow in the parking lots around town. 

I used to travel to tropical islands in the month of February when I was married to Money, and made my own money taking care of 28 children in my daycare.  We were RICH!.  One of my fondest memories is the time I almost drowned while trying to certify for scuba diving.  My loving, brand new husband realized the mistake I had made by marrying him, and tried to put me out of my misery...  that's the story, and I'm sticking to it.





But it was NOT fun leaving perfect weather and the ocean only to come home to 13 degrees below 0, during a blizzard, with 2 feet of snow on the ground.  Not at all.

What the hell?  I'm babbling.

NASCAR!  DAYTONA!  JEFF GORDON!

~

In Idaho Falls

Bleh.  I'd forgotten how much pain hurts.  It sends me into a depression almost deep enough to not want to remember that this is short term.  It will end soon.  As soon as I get back home.  I'm more convinced than ever that one needs to follow their gut.  I KNEW San Francisco would be better for my health, both mentally and physically, and I was so right.  As much as I miss friends and family... feeling better is priceless.

I'm having to re-type ever other word cause my fingers are so stiff and sore.  Usually I can count on my hands more than any other part of my body, even when they hurt, they're able to type, from muscle memory.  But the spasticity is tough today.

Another thing is clothing.  OMG it's cold.  But I can't stand to have anything on my legs, so I'm wearing a dress!   I am so dreading the flight home when feeling this way.  My mom gave me a long poncho thingy that I just might wear home with a dress on.   I know I'll get too hot with it on the airplane, but I could use it on my legs.  Looks weird, but I'm past the point of needing to impress anyone.

I also need to take a shower, but I'm dreading the warm water and how it'll make me want to lay down for the rest of the day.

It's the STUPIDEST disease ever.  In my opinion.  It denies me of the creature comforts of life.  Warmth, cozy, comfort, all gone.

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."

~ Steve Jobs

~

A Letter to the Owner of the Apartments Where I Used to Live in Idaho:

~
Dear Diane,

I thought of you today... isn't that nice of me?  Do you want to know what made me think of you?  Of course you do!  In fact, I've thought of you several times lately.

A few days ago, I fell in the hallway of my apartment building.  The maintenance man saw and RAN over to help me up.  He told me to report it to the office in case I would need medical care!  Can you imagine?  He was VERY nice, and very concerned.  He walked down the rest of the hall with me, just to make sure I was okay.  He didn't have to do that. When anyone of us fell in the parking lot at Tetonview, the response was "Oh". 

Today, as I was walking and talking to the janitor as we were going in the same direction, he ran up ahead of me to push the elevator button for me, before turning to go in a different direction for himself.  I remember thinking how thoughtful that was. 

That's what got me to thinking about how different things are here between the management here, and the management there with Syringa.  Well, specifically, with Rhonda. 

The number one difference is the sense of community and just plain niceness of the residents and the staff.  I have yet to hear anyone complaining about the landlady, or maintenance problems not being taken care of.  Most the of disabilities here are of the mental variety, and to see the staff help them, according to their different "needs" is heart-warming.  They jump ahead, anticipating what each person is going to need.  They get to know every one's quirks, and do not treat them/us as second class citizens.  They stick up for them when they see anyone being upset or bothered by some one's behavior, in a kind way, without giving away too much information.  It really is wonderful to watch.  The security man will get up from his desk 40 times in 2 hours, to open the entrance door to our building, even tho all of us have a key/card that opens the door automatically.  He doesn't have to do that, but he does, because he recognizes how difficult it is for some of us to fish around for the key/card in our purses or pockets.  Yes, I know, you probably don't understand how hard that can be at times. I was not impressed with your empathy level when we met.  But thank god you cared about the lack of decorative bark in the shrubbery bed!

You would think that a public housing facility in the 3rd most densely populated city in the USA would have "issues", to put it politely.  Filth, maintenance orders ignored, rudeness, keeping your distance from the "crazy people", theft, etc.  After all, we're "welfare" people, taking advantage of the system, and "using" our disabilities to get what we want.  Hmmm... why does that sound so familiar?  Oh yes, it was in your letter to me when I asked for a "Reasonable Accommodation" of a $10.00 wading pool to help keep myself cool when outside.  I also asked to be able to let my Service Animal off-leash in order to throw the tennis ball for her exercise, as I am not able to walk fast or far enough for her exercise needs.  You denied these requests, as "it wouldn't be fair to the other residents", and because "I shouldn't USE my disability to get what I want".  Also, because "reasonable accommodations are for people, not dogs". 

Scuse me while I try to control this sudden seizure-like spasm going thru my body.  Do you realize that you broke the law?  Oh yes, indeed.  I have 2 YEARS to file a complaint against your decision not to allow my requests... not the 10 days you stated in your letter.  We've still got a year to go.  My lawyer nearly giggled out loud when we received it.  You and your lawyer don't know the law, lady.  Oh dear, my rudeness is coming out again. 

Syringa, during the era of Rhonda as management, (known among the residents as dumber than a paper bag) and Donna, the Red-Headed Compulsive Liar... tends to bring out my rudeness - so sorry.

For two years, I lived with the threat of losing 4 of my 5 animals, while being harassed by the Red-Headed Liar, and a landlady who took the word of the Red-Headed Liar.  Instead of recognizing that the Red-Headed Liar was mentally ill and her stories needed to be heard in one ear and out the other, this woman was allowed to make my life miserable, and I couldn't really fight back, under the threat of losing my animals - which were allowed by the previous landlady.  The RHLiar called the cops on me numerous times, to the point that the cops told me not to worry about it - after the third time, they recognized that the RHLiar had issues.  She called the Health Department, convinced I must be an animal hoarder.  They couldn't even smell the cat box, when they came to inspect - my place was fine.  She turned me in to the City, because I had 3 dogs.  I had to go in front of the city counsel in order to get a kennel license.  I had to get the permission of 7of my closet neighbors.  Instead, I got 37 signatures out of 40, and 2 of those 40 were out of town.  She lied about my dogs being off-leash, me not picking up their poops, she complained when one of my dogs touched her elbow (when she called the dog to her!)  Everyone in the building knew better,  because they KNEW me, and saw me being responsible for my animals.  She lied so much that suddenly, after 5 years of living there with NO problems, I received 7 lease violations within 6 months.  One of those weren't even delivered to me, having been written up in order to cover her own ass about something she failed to address earlier, and put in my file.  Does that really make any sense to you?  In the letter denying my Reasonable Accommodation, you said I had a "history" of lease violations.  If "history" means half a year of trouble after 5 years of no trouble... then yes, I had a "history".  Huh.  

Oh, a side-note.  There was recently a memo sent out to us (here in California) that we were to become a non-smoking building because it's the LAW down here.  However, even tho it's the LAW, the people who currently smoke will be "Grandfathered" in, but from now on, smokers will not be allowed to rent.  When this happened at Tetonview, several of our friends and neighbors were forced to move out because they smoked and couldn't/wouldn't quit.  However, several residents didn't move, and they continued to smoke without getting lease violations.  Worse, new residents who smoked continued to move into our "non-smoking residence.  Our friends moved  had moved out for no reason!  Surely, you were familiar with the term "Grandfathered in"?  Those of us with more than one animal, and the smokers should have been grandfathered in, rather than threatened with the loss of our animals.  Instead we were forced to get ridiculous notes from our doctors, making up reasons why our animals were necessary.  Odd how Rhonda kept losing mine, until finally the third time I had it mailed by certified/signature required, don't ya think? 

To paraphrase all the many documents online, "A "reasonable accommodation" is a change, exception, or adjustment to a rule, policy, practice or service that may be necessary for a person with a disability to have an equal opportunity to use and enjoy a dwelling."  

The key word there is "equal opportunity", oops there's two words.  The "fairness" to other residents is not to be considered when considering a reason accommodation.  If that were the case, then everyone one of us with a cane, walker or wheelchair should have been able to park in the disabled parking area.  Oh wait, that was a problem for Syringa too.  It only took 2 years for our wheelchair resident to get a designated parking spot, didn't it?

Being FAIR to the other residents has NOTHING to do with MY disability.  Hell, is it FAIR that I have MS, and you don't?  Don't talk to me about fairness... it's not fair that I NEED to ask (beg?) for special help.  Life isn't fair, and you can believe that we, the elderly, disabled, and financially poor understand that more than anyone.  . 

You told me to hire someone to walk my dog, and that I could jump in my shower in order to cool off if it was too warm outside.  The question you should have asked yourself was "Do "normal" people have to hire someone to walk their dog in order to exercise them?  No, they have a CHOICE - it's not that they CAN'T walk their dog.  Do "normal" people have to jump in the shower every 15 minutes when the weather is too warm for them?  Can you imagine doing that?   Take working in the garden, for instance.  Would you want to run in the house every 15 minutes, undress, jump in the shower, and re-dress, go back outside, and get hot again, and do it all over?  It might seem crazy that having a wading pool outside would make such a difference in my comfort level in order to enjoy being outdoors - but that's the nature of my particular disability.  Who are you to say?  Do you want to walk in MY shoes for awhile?   Every resident in that building would have been able to tell you what happens to me when I get over-heated.  .

Just for your educational sake... let me tell you what happened here in this apartment facility when I asked for a wading pool.  It must be said that I haven't needed one yet, because it's cooler here.  Can you imagine MOVING in order to be in a better environment for my health?  Or is that "USING" my disability to move to one of the most expensive cities in the USA - on $770.00 a month "to get what I want"?  See, you made a critical mistake by using the word "want", rather then the word "need".  Simple, really.

When I asked the landlady here, she said "absolutely no problem".  I asked if she said that because she was nice, or because she knew it was the law.  She laughed and said "both".

As for having my dog off-leash in some of the parks of San Francisco so she can exercise by chasing a tennis ball, all I have to do is take proof of being ON disability, and a doctor's note, to the local dog control unit, and they have to give me a reasonable accommodation and allow me to have my dog off leash while I am throwing a tennis ball.  Isn't that AMAZING?  As far as it being fair to the other dog owners in the park?  All I have to do is show them Annie's special tag, and if they still have a problem with it?  Give them the phone number that's on the dog tag.  None of the dog people that I know seem to resent it - after all, it's just simple human kindness to notice how I stumble and fall when walking too fast, or when over-heated, or how I wobble even when standing still. I notice them passing on the information to new people who walk up and notice my dog is not on a leash. Fairness doesn't seem to be an issue when a disability is involved.  I have yet to meet a person who has said "I wish I had MS (or a wheelchair, Spina Bifida, Parkinson's, an amputated limb, etc.) so that I could have a wading pool.  Or be able to walk my dog without a leash". 

I have to admit that I'm surprised by California.  Our hallway floors are spotless and shiny.  The walls are washed regularly.  There are security people and security cameras everywhere.  Every single door has those handicap button things, where the door can open automatically, by itself.  Theft was a huge problem at Tetonview, as was trying to get thru certain doors easier.  You would have thought we wanted an entire remodel, instead of those little ramps things for the threshold so the wheelchairs could go over easier. 

A couple months ago, my landlady called me on the phone to tell me my rent was late. Imagine that - a human phone call, rather than a note on the door, or being called out in front of everyone in the lobby!  I explained that the bank pays it automatically, but it gets snail-mailed from Tennessee.  She said "Great!", rather than threaten me each month with a late charge, which is what Rhonda did every. single. month. 

So, why the difference, do you think?  Sure, this place is funded with government funds.  Oh wait... so are you.  But it's clear that you're in the business to make money on the backs of old and disabled people, and will cut corners wherever possible, instead of doing the things that would enable your residents to feel safe, happy and as if they live at HOME, rather than in an institution.   There are definite downfalls to my current residence, such as the garbage in the streets, and human filth from the homeless.  But I am HAPPY, I feel safe and secure about having MS for the first time since my diagnosis, and we're not treated like second-class citizens by the staff.  Life is sooo much easier, because the staff seems to understand that we're old and/or disabled and they actually HELP us, and worry about us if we're out too long in the big city.  You, Pam, and Rhonda made it clear that the Tetonview residents were nothing but complainers and whiners, instead of trying to figure out WHY there was such discontent. 

Weird how those complaints and problems went away when we started having resident meetings, and you hired a decent landlady finally, huh?  (Shawna).  And don't think we didn't notice how shabbily you treated the staff.  Going thru 4 or 5 managers, and 3 or 4 maintenance people in 2 years was the reason why I requested those reasonable requests, because I didn't like my lifestyle - my right to live in relative peace - my right not to be threatened with the loss of my animals - "yanked around whenever there were staff changes.  Laura S. noticed what her residents needed, or what they were unable to do or not do, all on her own, and she had compassion.  Tetonview felt like a home back then.

Six months after I've moved, I still hear about the crap going on back in Tetonview.  Nothing's changed.  So the problems weren't all because of me, right?

Of course, right.

Most sincerely up your ass,

Laurie Adamson
~

Hell Hilton #3 (The Eviction) (Attempted)

I won't get into the fact that I've received 7, yes SEVEN lease violations within a period of 6 months.  After living here for 4? 5? years without getting a single one.  Could it have to do with the fact that we have/had a new landlady?  I say have/had, because she has since been fired.  The first two installments of the Hell Hilton drama is here and here, should you care to catch up.

This morning I rode my bike to the post office with Annie.  Probably not even a half mile.  The temperature was in the high 60's, and cloudy.  Perfect.  I had to pick up one of those letters you have to sign for.  It was from the head office of the company that manages the apartments I live in.  They're trying to evict me so I thought it was something to do with the legal case I have against them.

I picked up the letter, and rode to the grocery store for a gallon of milk.  Walked Annie around the parking lot so that she could get used to the dogs that are left inside cars and bark their fool heads off.  They always startle me, I jump, and Annie goes berserk trying to get at them.  I realized she thinks she's protecting me. But as a service dog, she is NOT supposed to drag me across the parking lot!

When I pedaled my bike on home, I was hot, even tho it was still cool outside.  I was so weak and felt like I was not going to make it down the hallway to my apartment.  When I'm overheated, and weak as a newborn kitten, I lose whatever thinking, memory, and speaking skills I ever had.  No problem, I'll just step out the back door and sit by the pool for a minute and dip my bare feet.  Oh wait, I can't do that.  I forgot my pool was gone.  I've had a pool out there for at least the last 3-4 summers if not more.  I thought it was for the dogs.  I didn't realize how much I depended on it for myself until it was gone.  "Management" made me get rid of my little wading pool, as well as the hose to fill it with because "no personal items can be out on community property". 

Yet, there's a person with a milk carton set outside his window with a board across the top of it.  No one knows what it's for, but he's allowed to keep it out there.

Another guy got permission to build a greenhouse based on allowing everyone who gardens be allowed to use it.  It was supposed to be a "community" greenhouse.  Strangely, it turned into his storage unit instead.

I sure wish I had a storage unit on the property.  I've got a bunch of crates stored at a friend's house about 3 blocks away - but she's selling her house soon.

Notice the 'personal' chairs, trunks, plastic flowers, etc. all around.  Oh, and there's my blue swimming pool stored behind the storage unit.  (This was taken before they made me get rid of the pool).

This same guy bought a lawn swing and put it on the "community" lawn.  Then he got permission for it.

Other people have potted flowers outside their windows.
 
One guy built himself a rack for his garden tools, and compost box so he can put his kitchen scraps in there all year long.  Smells lovely.  

 

Other people have their own chairs at the end of their hallways.  I asked if I could put mine outside the door closest me to on the little patio, as others have done.  I was told "no".



 

Another issue is we're not allowed to have our dogs off leash.  In all the 6 years I've lived here, I've always kept all my dogs on a leash inside the building.  After all, there's frail, little old people here, and I don't want my dogs to jump up on them, or trip them.  They don't jump up on people, but the old people love my dogs and are always calling them over to be petted.  My dogs have good manners in public.  There are several people who don't keep their dogs on a leash, inside or outside.  

So back to the certified letter errand.  When I'm overheated, I can take a cold shower/bath, or I can lay in bed with the three fans blowing on me.  There was a time when it would take a couple of weeks to recover when I overdo it.  For some reason, now it only takes anywhere from a few hours to a day or so. Taking a cold shower/bath is a pain in the ass plus who LIKES to take a cold shower?   

I was too weak to deal with reading the letter.  Can you believe that?  Too weak physically and mentally.  So I crashed into the sleepy depression that takes over, and I contemplated not wanting to live this way anymore - the apathy is overwhelming, even tho I KNOW that this feeling won't last very long.  The doctors (and literature - I ALWAYS do my research) say that this "version" of depression is very common with MS'ers.  I slept.

When I woke, I opened the certified letter.  Hmmmm.  My "Reasonable Accommodation Request" for a swimming pool and hose was denied.  Because it's not fair to the other tenants for me to be allowed personal items on community property.  I also requested that I be able to exercise my dog off-leash by throwing a ball with the Chuck It!. I throw it from the patio, and she runs down the courtyard to fetch it with great joy.  She never seems to get bored with it, and it's very... meditative? for me for some reason.
 

From the patio

I am not able to walk Annie at a speed that would be considered exercise for her - I just can't.  Some days I can go for a bike ride with her, but that doesn't happen when it's too warm.  I'd have to do it in the middle of the night during the summer.

They denied allowing me to throw the ball for her off-leash too. 
  
I called my sister, who works with lawyers, and she gave the information to my pro bono lawyer, who will respond to the letter tomorrow by sending it to their lawyer.  According to him, I am being denied the right to be able to spend time outside like a "normal" person would.  Other people spend time outside.  I can't, without some help staying cool.  Other people walk their dogs.   I can't. 

The letter suggests that instead, I can use my bathtub for relief from the heat, or ask for a window unit air conditioner.  I would have to come inside to dip my feet in the tub every 5 to 10 minutes in order to spend an hour on the patio.  I've been afraid to use an air conditioner because I would tend to stay home ALL. THE. TIME.  I know I'd become even more of a hermit, because the sunshine causes me actual pain - anything to avoid life, ya know?  And they suggested I get a friend or employ someone to exercise my dog off property.

They also suggested that being disabled isn't a license to get what I want.  When we win my legal case against them, I will be sending them a well-worded piece of my mind about "using my disability to get what I want".  Sorta along the lines of  "F*ck you, bitch.  I am using my disability to get what I NEED.  There's a difference.  And I've lost so much because of this f*cking disease... hell yea, I want what I want.  Wanna step in my shoes for a day?"

Ahem.  Fairly easy to understand Reasonable Accommodation and Public Housing Guidelines.  It made me snort.  My certified letter says I have to respond within 10 days if I want to contest their decision. According to the law, I have up to 2 years to file a complaint. 

Best regards,

PeeLister@yahoo.com