Farmer's Markets. Who knew?

I had the best time this past Sunday!

One of my dog park friends, Zill, and I went to the Heart of the City Farmer's Market. And I was FLOORED at all the great looking produce for GREAT prices!  I've been to a couple of other farmer's markets where the prices were more expensive than the grocery store.  Plus they didn't take food stamps or debit cards.  I pretty much never carry cash.  So my belief that I would be able to eat cheaper in San Francisco because of the corner markets (where the produce spoils very quickly), and the many farmer's markets were expensive didn't pan out.

I told Zill that I couldn't give a definite answer until the night before, and even then I might need to cancel Sunday morning, depending of this shit disease I may have mentioned once or twice.  I wanted to walk in order to give Annie practice with her new harness, but remembered that I never want to go thru that horrible fatigue phase ever again, so I rode my bike.

Have I mentioned that the bike (trike) is making a HUGE difference in my life?  Today I made it up the slight hill on my block, all the way, without having to get off and walk!  It's easy to gauge one's progress around here... just pick a damn hill!

Anyways, Zill walked, and I rode my bike next to her, and I had so much fun.  I was overwhelmed with the amount of selections - even the fish was priced well within my price range.  And walnuts?  One pound for $2.50!  It's over 8 dollars at Safeway!

I found out that this particular farmer's market DOES take debit cards and food stamps.  By the way, whenever I say food stamps here, cashiers look at me confused.  It's called and EBT card, and works like a debit card, only for food.  Food only, too.  No toothpaste or cat litter.  

It's a good ride on the bike - mostly no hills at all, and if I went by myself, it'd take about 15 minutes to get there.  So it's not like it's an all day ordeal.  I'm just so excited. 

My son strongly believes that diet has something to do with my MS flare-ups, and after the fatigue one, for the first time, I want to track my diet and symptoms to see if is a factor.  But of course - just eating better will improve my health overall, duh.

I'm joining Weight Watcher's next month, and am going to start a support group with my friend, Steve, in Idaho, and Gary, my cat sitter down the hall.  We're going to challenge each other, and hold each other accountable for exercising.  Steve got himself a bike too.  Gary's a dog walker, and is motivated because he was recently dx'd with diabetes.  Also, on July 1st, I'm starting something else that will hold myself accountable, but am not quite ready to reveal the "project".  Let's just say that it involves the trike and signage.

I got up at 8:30 this morning and rode the bike around and threw the ball for Annie, before the heat comes.  There was a "heat wave" of 2 days.  Still makes me laugh.  But for me, anything over 70 degrees is too hot for me, so the earlier I can get out, the better.

I feel like I'm actively take charge of this shit disease I may have mentioned before.
~
Hanging in there,

FatGirlonaTrike@gmail.com

Of Course. I Spoke Too Soon.

MS is always one step behind me, breathing down my neck, waiting to grab hold at the slightest mis-step.

I feel like shit again.  Day two.

The mis-step?  Sleeping with a blanket cause it's cold.  Even so, knowing that I over-heat at the mere thought of sunshine, the blanket covers only my upper body.  As long as my arms are covered, I feel warm enough.  I use only one corner of the blanket.

Evidently, in my sleep, I covered up my whole body, even my feet.  Covering my feet is a big no-no.  Might as well just send me to Over Heat City as a permanent residence.

I woke up warm and cozy.  But I had to use the bars on my hospital bed in order to get up and out of the bed.  It's about 10 steps to the bathroom, and I fell.  Sleeping warm made my legs into wet noodles.

I spent the day in bed, worn out from sleeping too warm because it was cold.

There's no winning.

It's always there.

Behind my back.

Waiting.

~

Hanging in there,

FatGirlonaTrike@gmail.com

This and That

If I were someone who cared about me, like family and friends, I would be VERY irritated with me right now.  It seems there is no happy medium when it comes to my communications with ya'll.  If I'm not blogging, Facebooking, emailing - then you probably deduce that I'm either doing really badly or really good.  Cause when I'm doing really good, I'm all out and about and too happy.  I've never written during happy times.  Plus, you can't trust me - I lie about how I'm doing when it's really bad.  I promised my kid that I would stop doing that.

I've been doing really, really, really well for the last .... 4 days.  See, now I'm freaking out - I probably just jinxed myself!

I've quit sleeping on park benches, under the bed, all day and all night.  But on the days I have medical appointments (2), I didn't sleep the night before.  I've realized I'm a bit obsessive about GETTING to the appointments.  Not because of the bus, or where to go type of stuff - it's the worry about whether I'm understanding the Time.  Time as in the clock.  Am I reading the clock right, and am I understanding the appointment reminder sheet correctly?  Has Annie peed and poo'd appropriate amounts that I don't have to worry about her needing to go during the outing?  How many extra minutes should I plan for that?  The clock and I have issues - the same issues I have with money.  I just don't "get" numbers - they don't process well in my head.  My sister had to take over my money for me cause of it.  It carries over to conversations too.

Me:  Has anyone seen CrazyZert today?  Cause he destroyed the shrubbery of someone up the block and they called the cops on him.
B.Martha:  His case worker was here and made him take a shower this morning.

A few minutes pass and we discuss him more and other things.

Me:  So, really, I'm serious.  I'm worried that they may have taken CrazyBert to jail, so has anyone seen him?
B.Martha:  ummm, duh.  What part of "his caseworker made him take a shower this morning did you not understand?"
Me:  Oh.

I just don't put 2 and 2 together.  It's not about not listening, because we talked about how much he needed a shower, but he wouldn't allow getting his hair shampooed, and we needed to be careful cause he might have lice at this point, blah blah blah.

I just don't process things if it requires putting 2 and 2 together.

ANYWAYS, I digress.

I am doing TERRIFIC.  I've been riding the trike everywhere, and it's an answer to a prayer all of a sudden. I finally figured out that I could raise the seat - and it's soooo much easier!  I've got some power in these legs after all!  I've been riding it with the pedals way too short.  I couldn't believe the difference.

My dog park friend, Zill, told me yesterday that I was doing as good as she's ever seen me before.  Today, I walked down the rail-less stairs in the park like a normal person would - left right left right one step per foot, instead of left right each foot each step.  Hmmm.  I wonder if that made any sense?  I did hang on to Annie, cause hey, I'm not stupid.  I did a dance of victory when I reached the bottom of the steps - inside my brain.  I haven't been able to jump or do anything that requires two feet off the ground at the same time in a very long while.

                                


Yesterday, the news anchor asked the weatherman if we were going to get a break from "these extreme temperatures".  Extreme meaning 2 days of almost 75 degrees.  !!!  ???  I laughed out loud.

I feel physically strong.  Which is very, very rare for me.  I've done the trike for the last 3 days, but today I decided to walk cause I felt so good.  But I stayed in the shade, and I only did half of the park - cause I don't want to OVER DO IT.  Dumb f*cking words.  Yesterday, I biked (triked?) 6 blocks to the post office to mail off baby gift to Zusti.  (I've decided to disquise my real life friends with the letter Z cause I can never remember the fake names I used to use).  Little baby Zate is 4lbs as of a couple days ago!

I'm so excited.  Annie's mobility harness is spose to come today.  I left the FedEx man a love note downstairs on the gate to call me cause I am home.  Last time I made a point to be home for delivery, they didn't call.  Just left a note on the gate that they would try to deliver again the next day, so I spent 2 days waiting for the dang thing.

It's here!  And omg, is it wonderful.  Sooo much easier.

Annie's first day with the mobility harness

~

Dover, an Announcement, and a Random MS Factoid

One of the frustrating things often said to me is "Yea, but that's just getting older, too", if I'm commenting on some such symptom or other.  It feels like my very real frustrations are being negated, and that I have no right to be complaining because, after all, we're all getting older, right?

New research suggests that MS'ers lose functions (nerve loss) (affecting what I take to mean all sorts of "age" related factors) (like getting weaker, pee problems, chewing, walking, hearing, seeing) at a rate of 1% a year, compared to a "normal" 0.1% a year.

I've felt like an old lady since the young age of about 35 - not all in my head!

Rot ro... it happened again.

However, he's having a decent day on the track at Dover.

Starting July 1st, in celebrating what I've come to think of as my freedom to be me, I will be starting a new DAILY feature on my blog conducting something very personal, requiring some pre-work, such as redecorating the blog, building some sort of advertisement thingy to put on the trike, joining a ... group of people sanctioning their actions and even business cards.

No... it's not that I've decided to go gay.  I'd be announcing that this month.  Which reminds me, should anyone want to come visit me, the weekend of the 23rd would be the most... educational about what this city is about.  It's Gay Pride Week, and the costumes alone are worth the trip.

I shouldn't say being gay is what this city is all about.  What this city is about is that you're allowed to be Anyone or Anything you want to be and no one will stare at you.  Unless you're an Idahoan who can't believe half the things she's seen here...

Good God, I'm TIRED of all these animals at my feet!

Hank is figuring out a way to keep my coke on ice closer to my bed, since me and the bed are such best friends lately.  He must be independently wealthy, since he doesn't seem too worried about getting a job.  I can't believe I haven't grilled him about it, but I honestly don't care.  He spends alot of time away from me during the weekdays, treating looking for a job LIKE a job.  I also see him just gazing out at the city tho, the same way I did, when I first moved here.  

~

Fatigue - MS Style

~

I've read and heard other MS'ers, and their experiences of fatigue.  Statements like feeling like they're wearing a coat of armor, or that they could sink to the sidewalk and happily take a nap are refrains I've heard several times.  I've used feeling like I'm operating under water to describe mine.

I've also said that the worst symptom I've ever experienced MS-wise is Vertigo - a feeling of constant dizziness and nausea.

Well, I'm here to tell you - this level of fatigue is now the worst symptom I've ever experienced.  If it was always like this, I would not want to live with it.

I've read up on it, and it's said that there is no "avoiding" it by not over-doing it, or getting more sleep, or not exercising at all, etc., it's just ... it is what it is.  Once it hits, it's advised not to over-do it, and to get some gentle exercise, and to try some new meds that have come out.  Also to take some sleep meds if you have trouble sleeping!  That's for people who wake up alot with peeing needs, apnea, etc.  That was not my problem.

I woke up to pee, feed the cats, potty the dog in one manner or another (am gonna teach her to potty in the tub for next time, using the newspaper she was so clever to use last weekend) and I fell right back in bed, nearly asleep the same instant.  One time, I fell on the bed with my arm underneath me, and I remember thinking I needed to move so my arm wouldn't "go to sleep" and get numb, but I was asleep before I could move over.  Or I'd wake up with one leg still hanging off the bed - it hadn't made it up onto the bed before I fell asleep.  Every part of my body was dead weight to myself.  To reach for covers was too much, so my feet would be freezing when I woke up.  But I'd go right back to sleep before I could cover up.  To put on a pair of socks?  Impossible.  Only animals that needed feeding were able to overcome the suit of armor I was wearing - socks or feet didn't count.

If I had been out on the sidewalk?  I like to think I would have found a bench to happily take a nap.  I have an appointment this coming Tuesday with the nuerologist to go over the EMG that was normal, and will bring  this up with her.  It's better, and I spent most of yesterday at the park with poor, pent up Annie, and was fine, but I'd still much rather be sleeping.

~

Ocean Beach and MS

Remember all my bravado about not being ready for a wheelchair?  Well, my brain may not have a say about it.

Ouch.  A random post I came across.  Weird huh?

Anyways, my physical downfall has caught me completely off guard.  I went to the beach last week on the bike, over 10 miles and felt GREAT.  Then we walked the beach on Friday, being careful not to over-do it, or so I thought.

Annie is holding her own against her boyfriend Oloney.  She's been afraid of the waves, but not any more.  Hank refuses to be pictured on the blog so this will have to do

My hands are confused putting the key in my door.  Lifting the second leg onto the bed requires using my hands to get it up.  The need for sleep is ... the weirdest sensation I've ever felt - it is not possible to deny.

The one night that Annie kept asking to go outside, I simply could not go out my door, without bouncing from wall to wall.  So I set out newspaper on the carpet, and told her to go potty there, hoping she'd understand.  I couldn't even stay awake long enough to see - I fell into bed, arms pinned underneath me, too exhausted to get into a more comfortable position.  When I woke up in the morning, I saw that she had peed on the papers!  I was so proud of her.  And then so sad for her.  I picked up the peed upon papers and hung them over the bathtub, hoping to train her to go in the tub, both pee and poo for my bad days.  My neighbor down the hall has offered to take her outside when I can't take her outside, but I was not able to remember that in the condition I was in.  Everything shut down.  I didn't pee, or poo, or eat, or drink.  I slept like a rock, completely asleep before I turned onto my side.  I texted with my son here and there, about me traveling to Denver maybe but it would not have happened if I got honest with myself.  He called me on Mother's Day, and I lied about having to go play cards cause I couldn't maintain the cheerful I am fine tone, and I wanted to go back to sleep.  I'd wake up to listen to Barf and Annie fighting with each other and go right back to sleep, glad they were occupying themselves.

Hank tried to help, but all he could do was just stand by, and he finally realized there was nothing he could do to help, so he spent most of his time looking for a job.

Why do I lie?  Because I'm trying to convince myself I can do it.  I'm sorry, my son.  When it comes to MS and you, I can't seem to tell the truth.  I don't want you to know how horrible it is.  I don't want to scare you.  I want you to keep climbing rock walls.

I do not think over-doing it was the thing.  I think it was time for a flare-up.  Cause it's over just as quick as it came on.  I walked Delores Park twice today and didn't feel a bit of physical exhaustion.

I've never felt such an over-powering need for sleep.  It may well have been my first true fatigue flare-up.
~

"I give in. I give up." Highs & Lows of Being Me Part Two

Something has shifted within me during the last week of highs and extreme lows.

 For me to be "showing this"... this shit thing on my body not doing what it's supposed to do to someone close to me (Hank) is ... something.  I don't know why I try to hide it from people - mostly Jeremy, and whomever I was in a relationship but I do.  Part of it is the Single Mother Syndrome, I Did It All For Years and Years, and part of it is not wanting to be a burden, specially to my kid.  For me to be having "old person" issues at the age of 40 was far too soon for me to be taken care of by my kid.  He was just starting his life, and being tied down to a mother who can't walk sometimes was unacceptable to me.  On several occasions, he would tell me about their plans to build or buy a house that had room for me, and I would tell him no - no daughter-in-law wants to share her home with her mother-in-law starting out from the get-go, as much as I loved her. 

As far as relationships, one man left shortly after I was diagnosed.  For other reasons, but my psyche took it personally, unbeknownst to me.  I didn't take is personally - the MS did.  (Snort)  There was someone who seemed to "get it", and he did at first, but it was all an act to cover an incredibly narcissistic ego.  That burned me, but I didn't learn from it for years.  The thought of being with someone simply would not compute after that man.  To be alone was a relief.  I have not been lonely, or sad, or depressed without a man.  Altho... I'm making myself sad right now, at the thought of it being a "relief".  As in, relief from the exhaustion of being sucked dry by someone very, very lovable... yet, basically a con man.  A victimized con man to boot.  Oh, but he could make me laugh. 

There was someone after him, and thank God/Dog? for him, because he restored my faith in men, again without me realizing it till much later.  I learned I was still lovable even tho I had MS.   He was/is a very good man, and because of him, I know what it's like to be truly, truly cared for ... even spiritually, and he was enough.  For a lifetime.  If that makes any sense. 

Part of "getting it", for me, is being able to be helped without it being obvious, being tuned in enough to notice I need help without me having to ask.  That's a lot to ask for, but some people are a natural at it.  Another very, very important part of it is being able/allowed to help BACK.  I can do so little - so it's important to me to be able to do what I can do.  If you don't let me help you back in some way, then we have an unequal relationship, where I am beholden to you.  Some people like that or seem to need that.  Those are the people I don't get close to.

All this to say... Hank is seeing some of this MS shit.  Not the active inabilities cause he just happens to miss those occasions being busy with finding a place to live ... but the aftermath.  The exhaustion and inability to recover quickly.  He's one of those who have an innate sense of how to help someone without being a dick about it.  Or expect anything back for it.  I don't have to explain, and more importantly, don't neeeed to explain.  I just feel accepted. 

Which reminds me, someone once implied that he thought I was a "loosie goosie", to put it politely.  He said it in a cruel way tho.  I used to feel very guilty for that, but I don't now.  You try losing the sensation in your hands and feet, and having it move up and down your body.  It makes you might want to experience "life" a little more in case you lose it altogether forever ... if you know what I mean.  

I'm a firm believer in "You Pick Out What You Need to Work Out" as far as partners.  With my first husband, it was about emotional distance = father issues.  My second husband was alcoholism and sexual abuse = my father again.  Tucker did not sexually abuse me - he made me feel safe enough for the memories to surface and he loved me anyways.  The alcoholism was who he was tho, and I couldn't do it anymore after finally getting healthy about it.  The third long-term relationship taught me about physical, emotional, and verbal abuse, which taught me the rest of the things I needed to know in order to get even more healthy.

Then I got sick.  With the MS.  I told you part of those guys.

With Hank... it's the first time in a very long time that ... oh, this is going to sound so awful.  It's the first time I don't care.  Maybe I should rephrase that.  I had learned that it's not my job to "fix" or to do all the work in keeping a relationship going.  But now I know that whether he stays or goes, it doesn't matter cause I'm okay on my own.  I had learned that right before the MS struck, but I didn't have the track record to prove it.  It was all theory.  Now I have the proof, and I know it for sure.  It has made a hell of a difference.  I don't have to use ummm feminine wiles to attract or keep him.  I don't have to work at this.  It's just so damn easy this time.  And I think he's in the same space too, so it's double the easy.

I might even use the walker tonite when we go out...

Oh yes, the walker is also why I am happy and content again.  Isn't that odd?  After the HORRIBLE day where I could not walk, I bought a cheapie walker from the thrift shop a couple of days later.  I've had them before but I gave them away when I moved here.  (Cause moving to SF was spose to cure me, don'tcha know)

I am still able to take the trike bike for grocery shopping and do use it for close-by errands.  But as far as exploring the city?  Impossible.  There's hills here. And wind.  I thought Idaho had the wind, but it shares the wind with San Francisco. 

Altho I did say, I give in, I give up, I've made a decision to keep walking as long as I can.  I'm not ready for a wheelchair.  That physical therapist who seemed to contradict herself by writing out the report that I needed a wheelchair, but that the goal of PT was to keep their patients mobile kept ringing in my head.   And it kept irritating me.  So I did what everyone does when one is irritated by something they cannot solve.

I Googled "walkers".

I have a prescription for this one, and I have to go back to my primary doctor's office to see the social worker in order to start the process of getting it.

It's okay.  Good enough for now.












But then I saw this... and it would solve a few problems the one above has, mostly the tendency to lean over, which KILLS my back.  Also, it goes over bumps and cracks (and MUNI tracks?) with a lot more stability. 

The point is... there's more options that will keep me on my feet for a longer time.  I'm not ready for a wheelchair.  I WILL continue the process of getting one, just in case the funding stops for wheelchairs in the future. 

Walkers are cheaper than a chair.  I'm thinking I might as well try for the Cadillac version.  

So between the trike and the walkers... I've got more time.


~

My Service Dog is a Thief

~

A couple of visits ago to Idaho, my mom, Annie and I were shopping at Wal-mart.  As we walked towards the registers, I happened to look down at Annie, and she had an Angry Bird stuffed toy in her mouth.  I had no idea where she picked it up.  We could have walked out of the store and triggered the shoplifting alarm that beams a spotlight on you with the siren sounds and blue cop lights spinning around!

As my mom and I laughed over it, this lady came over and handed me a 5 dollar bill so we could buy it.  Of course, I tried to give it back to her, but she insisted, because Annie was so damn cute about it.  So I asked if I could take her picture and Annie acted like a damn fool, refusing to sit up.

Later, over lunch, I got to thinking.  I knew Angry Birds were really popular, and just my luck, the stuffy probably cost 15 dollars!  I looked at the receipt - well, okay, it was 8 dollars.

A month ago, when I had to go back to the hardware store several times before my keys were made correctly, Annie had shop-lifted a Reese's Piece of candy that they had in a bowl on the counter.  Someone was pointing and laughing at her, and I looked down at her - she had a piece in her mouth.  Grrrrr.  There she is, needing discipline/training to not do that, but she's getting attention from others for being so cute and personable.   And she damn well knows it!

This dog.  She always makes me laugh.

~

Highs and Lows of being Me

This last week has brought on extreme lows and, right now, and for the last 2 days, a deep contentment and outright happiness. 

Jeremy had need of his birth certificate.  Years ago, I had got him a certified copy and given it to him.  When he married Dusti, I had given her a notebook with household organizing pages, and put his hospital birth certificate in it under B.  Or maybe C.  Anyways, after they divorced, I saw the notebook and looked thru it.  There was the certificate still.  So I took it back.  Of course - I did not remember this. 

Jeremy text-ed me a picture of his copy the other day with "Notice something?"  They had his birthday wrong - transposed the numbers 30 to 03. 

I had recently gone round and round with the Social Security office about my birthday - they had it in their system as the 31st rather than the 30th, and I was unable to do anything online with my magic disability money because of it.  I found it ridiculous that the Social Security had messed up on both of us - 2 of us in the same family!  And it's not like MS had a role - doing his certified copy was years and years ago, and I had to show them the hospital one in order to get it.  And despite the MS, I have not forgotten my OWN BIRTHDAY.  I'm sure it was just a matter of typing it in wrong in both cases. 

Taking a wild guess, I looked under B in my file cabinet, and discovered Jeremy's original birth certificate!  So I text-ed him a picture of it, hoping that would be proof enough, should he need it.  And off I went to the Social Security office with both copies of our birth certificates - glad to help him solve his problem (I get to HELP! him, for a change), and solve mine too, which I had forgotten about.  Course, once I was there, they told me I had solved mine a few weeks ago... I'd just forgotten, and could've been doing my business online for weeks now. 

The security guard at the Social Security office saw me coming and met me at the door with my ticket number (order in which to be helped) so I wouldn't have to walk to the middle of the room to get it myself.  

I was hoping for a good, long wait in line there at the SS office, so I could rest, but noooo.  I was in and out of there within 20 minutes.  Unheard of, according to local wore. 

It took 4 hours to walk .81 miles home.  As in less than a mile.  About 12 blocks.  Something I could usually do in a half hour or so. 

On the way home, shopkeepers came out of their shops with a chair or a milk crate for me to sit on to rest.  They could see me coming thru their windows.  One lady looked in her pickup and then went inside her shop and brought out her dad, who gave me his cane from the pickup.   It was a really cool cane too. 

At one point, while sitting alone on a milk crate, watching people walk and walk and walk by me, I was in tears, overwhelmed with how much this still hurts (emotionally), how much I still cannot seem to get used to it, how much I hate it, how much it's taken from me.  How much it still shocks me when it hits.  How much worse it's getting.  And how it never gives me notice. 

I was glad Hank was not with me.  He was busy finding a hostel closer to me.  He is loving San Francisco as much as I do. 

Annie cannot help me with the weakness, and it broke my heart to see how upset she was - she was WORRIED, and it was obvious.  She actually licked my face when I cried - something she does not do to me, and has never done before.

When I reached the lobby to my home, I sat down and burst into tears, out of relief and exhaustion.  There were 2 ladies there, who have never seen me weak.  One was shocked, and the other, whom I've butt heads with before, was the sweetest and nicest I've ever seen her. 

I said it out loud.  "I give up.  I give in."   She said, "It's about time". 

The next day, I took the "handicap van", a service I qualified for months ago and have never taken.  They take me door to door, and the driver is allowed to help me off and on, and they're allowed to carry up to 4 bags for you.  

He took me to the restaurant where the lady gave me the cane.  I returned the cane and had lunch there.  A delicious Reuben Sandwich.  After dropping  a piece of spinach lettuce and watching Annie eat it, I then gave her some more, curious out of my normal ban of never giving her people food, much less directly from the table!  She. LOVED. it.  She ate it all.  I asked what kind of dressing they put on the salad - some sort of fig stuff. 

I then walked a block down to the bookstore where I had picked up a bag of free books the day before, not realizing that I wouldn't be able to carry it home.  (Sometimes, carrying something actually helps ground me).  They held them for me.  I bought 4 or 5 cheap books and then sat outside their shop, in the shade, to wait for the van to pick me up.  It was another wonder of San Francisco.  Late, but nevertheless - a wonder.  I'll have to use them more often. 

Because obviously, being disabled is an expensive endeavor...

To be continued...

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

~

Annie Tells Her Side of the Story

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 Obviously, this is not Annie.  Have I mentioned that my computer is dead?  Which means I've lost all my pictures. 

So, I've helped her find her feelings via Google in order to tell the airport story from her point of view.  Notice how she said "airport" rather than "Certain Airlines".  She says she is incapable of bitterness. 

Sooo, without further ado, I hand the blog over to Annie. 

Oh, I might mention that she calls me My Laurie.  She says it's only fair since her name seems to be "My Dog" all the time. 

I shall tell the story as accurately as I can.  I do have a dreadful habit of slipping in and out of present and past tenses, so I hope you'll forgive my literary lapses as I forge on with the story from my perspective. 

I was happy happy happy to be going to see one of my boyfriends (just buddies)(Someone took away my ability to take it further than "just buddies", but I won't mention any names...), but I was happy happy happy.

Say whuut?  I can't get on the plane? 

For why how come I can't get on the plane to go see Charcoal?

He hasn't even met me.  How fair is that?  Does he have something against Golden Retrievers?

 













Is he a black lab man?  I wouldn't blame him.  Charcoal's got some black lab in him.  And Duke is mostly black lab.  I wonder how Duke's doing these days. 

Tra la la de da de da de the daring young man on the flying trapeze la la de la la... 

Name that tune.   

Never mind.  I'm "working".  When she looks at me like that, I know what I have to do.  Behave.  

Huh?  Paperwork?  I don't understand.  Oh geez, this is where she's gonna tell him that I have a habit of shredding papers apart.  My Laurie even has a picture of me surrounded by my "paper work".  Why would he want a bunch of shredded paper? 

Proof of what?  And what?  And what?  You have got to be kidding us.

I don't think he likes me!  That's unheard of.  Cept for My Laurie's sister.  She doesn't like me to touch her with my nose. 

I like everybody and everybody likes me.  Especially in airports! 

Or maybe he likes goofy Goldens?  I can do goofy.  Quite well. 

Maybe if I give him a stick? 

Uh oh.  Yes ma'am.  But can I say I'm tired of being here?  Aren't we going to go see Charcoal?  



Dreaming of kicking it in his back yard







\












Yikes.  I better pay attention.  There seems to be a problem, cause it's taking longer than usual. 

My Laurie seems to be getting angry.  She's not supposed to show it, but I can feel it.  This is not a good thing.

I better step up to the plate.  








To be continued

~