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No Decision Is A Good Decision

Monday, December 31, 2012

I'd like to say that I don't know how it began, but that would be a lie. It's been happening for quite some time now and each incident has been worse than the one before. What used to be containable is no more. Police, paramedics and hospitals have become a part of my life.

I've lived in fear for years, fear of someone that I should fear the least, one of my children. He's attacked me, and other family members, on numerous occasions. In the past I could mostly fend off his aggression, but not now, he's nineteen, extremely muscular and he's on the autism spectrum.

His autism/asperger's has caused many of the problems, his rebellion the rest. He was away at Job Corps for about a year and it was peaceful at my house. I didn't have to sleep with my door locked fearing I would be stabbed, or clubbed to death, in the middle of the night. I've told his psychiatrists, and my therapists, for years of my fear and we've tried to come up with ways to keep everyone safe. Sometimes the plans worked and sometimes they didn't.

Most of the people that know him will tell you he's a sweet, kind soul. He's sociable and extremely polite.  He is all those things, and much, much more. He's a talented guitar player, he's intelligent and can be a very hard worker when he wants to be.

There's also a dark side to him, an aggressive side, a side that comes in a blink of an eye. Sometimes we can see, or sense, it coming and other times it's instantaneous. Usually it happens because he's been told to do something that he doesn't want to do like clean his room, help with the dishes, or it could be as simple as being asked to lower his voice. Sometimes it just happens.

Since he's been home from Job Corps he's refused to take his medication and his threatening behavior and actions have become more frequent and more frightening. He's picked up bottles of wine, tea kettles, anything within his reach that he feels he could use as a weapon, and has advanced on his intended victim. Each time, luckily, we've been able to either diffuse the situation or get away. Sunday afternoon was different, he was serious, and he was ready to make his move.

He erupted because he wanted to watch a movie and was told no. I have a rule with him that he has to be up by a certain time in the morning, help around the house and control his behavior. If he doesn't do those things he doesn't get to play video games, have access to the DVD player, or play pool, etc.

He got up late, he knows the rules, and he wanted to argue the point. He escalated to the point that he was ready to attack. He made a move and we were able to hold him at bay while 911 summoned the sheriff. Security measures have been in place for years but now that he's older and much stronger he's capable of much more damage and his threats have become more than the mere words of a rebellious child, they've become something to be taken seriously, to be feared.  

I was on the phone with the 911 operator when the police arrived. I hung up with her as I went to meet the deputies. A deputy went into the house to speak with my son while two other deputies interviewed each person that had been in the house when his switch was flipped.

When every one's story matched, except my my son's, the deputies decided to take him to a nearby location where he could calm down before returning home. They couldn't make him go to the hospital because now he's an adult. Before they left, one of the officers asked why he's been allowed to live in the house since he's such a danger.

It caught me off guard. Being a mom means helping your kids in every possible way, but the deputy had a point, everyone in the house was in real danger. I had been making phone calls and trying to contact agencies during the past month trying to find housing options for him. So far they've led to nothing but dead ends. He scored right at the cut off line when he was tested for adult disability services with the State of Oregon, so they've been no help. We were on our own and had to make a decision, it had to be made and it had to be made then.

After talking it over with the family, and hearing them voice the same fear I have, and talking to his father, the decision was made to take him to a teen shelter down town. It was the most heart breaking decision I've ever had to make. He's my son, he was adopted at birth, we've loved him, cared for him and tried everything to help him and nothing has worked to quell the aggression. 

As his sister packed him a bag his father drove to pick him up from where the deputies had taken him. His dad brought him home, my son grabbed what he could carry in his backpack, I gave him some money, he then turned and walked to the truck to be taken away from the only family he's ever known. I paced, I cried and I was torn.

I knew it was the best decision for the family, but what about my son? Would he be cold? Would he be assaulted? Would he survive? He's naive, he would be alone and he would be scared.

I called my oldest daughter and asked her to call him. He told her he had been directed to a shelter for kids that are from 13 to 21. I also asked her to plead with him to call us, to work with us, to agree to stay on his medications so he could come home. He would have none of it.

My daughter stayed in contact with him until he had a bed secured for the night and then she reported back to me. That night had to have been the worst night of sleep I've ever had.

Today we had several conversations with a case worker at the shelter. She's going to work with him to find a him job and a place to live. She stressed that since he's over 18 he has to make the effort and whatever decision is made has to be made by him.

Wednesday I'll begin making calls about the possibility of gaining guardianship over him so we can have more control over his future and what happens to him. Had I had guardianship yesterday I could have had him admitted to the hospital. But he's now an adult and I have no power over what he decides to do. But then if I do gain guardianship will that push him over the edge, will it do more harm than good?

All of these questions but no answers, only heartbreak, tears and a different type of fear.


 

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Foam And Frustration

Friday, December 28, 2012

I should have known when I didn't notice the foam on my latte. I like perfect foam, well to me it's perfect. It's like drinking velvet when it's right, but today I didn't pay attention to it, for me that's an oddity.

I always anticipate the first sip and I've learned which baristas I prefer. But not today. Today my mind was elsewhere. It's been there for a time and not much I do seems to bring it back to the present, to the here and now. I'm not even quite sure what day it is.

What began as a day distracted quickly turned to a day of total frustration. You know those days, the days where nothing works the way it should? The yin and yang...totally screwed up today, and the zen? Forget about it.

It began by me trying to make amends for a disastrous situation I totally, unintentionally, caused. Didn't work. Not sure it will, but time will tell. I hate when things like that happen because I completely obsess over them until things are cool. Yeah, well I think I'll be waiting a while on this one.

Then since the day was going so well, ha, I decided to go to the Mac Store to have them help me move my iTunes, photos, and other media over to an external hard drive. Should have never made that decision.

Once I was at the help desk the guy that had been assigned to me decided it was much more important that my cursor wouldn't make its way to the top of an icon. Who cares? I certainly didn't. All I wanted was my media moved to another drive.

Tech guy couldn't let it go and actually help me with what I wanted help with. He zoomed in on the cursor, preformed all sorts of software tests, that took about three hours, and ended up somehow deleting the operating system on my Mac Book Pro. Great. Freaking great.

I then got to go home and spend hours trying to reload the operating system, have I ever mentioned that I'm NOT a patient person at times? By this time I was really needing a drink, a really big drink, maybe multiple drinks. I decided against that because then I would be obsessing again over the first item of the day and sure as hell would have ended up doing something stupid, really stupid, that would only aggravate the situation. Decided against the funnel and the tequila and decided to text Angela instead. Her advice? Run EVERYTHING by her before I do it. She was going to be my cop (if you only knew how funny that is).

While I was soberly texting and waiting for the software to load I learned that everyone in my house was dropping minute by minute with some sort of viral nightmare. The day was going downhill and it was going fast.

Then Nikki came in and told me her iPad was stolen at the mall. What in the heck was it with Apple products today? What did I ever do to Steve Jobs?

Now? Now the operating system is up and running, Nikki's filed a police report, I haven't been thrown up on, but, oh yeah there's a but, but now my stomach's feeling a little funky, I have a headache and I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll be spending tomorrow in bed.

I should have paid better attention to the foam and maybe, just maybe, the day would have taken a different direction.


 

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The Ambien Tree And Acceptance

Thursday, December 20, 2012

It was a year ago almost to the day that I awoke and checked my email. My mouth dropped open and shivers went up my spine. There were several email confirmations of items I'd purchased after I had taken an Ambien and didn't immediately close the laptop, make sure the TV was tuned to 360 for the next morning's news, and put head to pillow.

Oh no, apparently I stayed up and did a little midnight shopping. There was a confirmation for some luxury lingerie from Aubade....ya gotta check them out...pure luxury, and worth every cent, and one rather curious confirmation for a 8' white Christmas tree already strung with tons of lights from Front Gate.

Shit! I didn't remember any of the purchases, not a single one. I clicked on the links, first to the lingerie. I was very glad my exquisite taste in lingerie hadn't been tarnished while under the influence of a hallucinogen. Then I clicked on the one I dreaded most, the one for the 8' white Christmas tree.

The tree arrived several days after Christmas in a box almost as tall as one of my grown sons. Holy Mother of God! What in the hell had I done? With a box that big I had visions of the infamous Griswold tree in the movie Christmas Vacation.

Oh well, it was there and I decided against returning it. It sat in the garage until a few days after Thanksgiving this year when the kids and I made the decision to put it up.

When we took it out of the box it looked big, really big, Griswold big. Oh crap, it was going to be a disaster. We put it together anyway.

When we finally figured out how to place the pieces I realized it fit just fine, although I still wasn't sure I'd made a wise purchase. I mean a white tree?

The next weekend I had the grand kids over to decorate it. Little by little it came together and little by little it became more beautiful. I was beginning to think I could get used to the white Ambien tree.

I gazed at it last night before retiring for the evening. It truly is beautiful. I think I'll keep it around even though I lost a family competition (that I knew nothing about) because I'd bought it "under the influence." (see the paragraph below)

"Congratulations, Michelle, for winning the most beautiful Christmas tree in the family contest! I couldn't bring myself to vote for my tree, I figured that would be too selfish considering I'm the only voter. And, Teri(mom) after much deliberation your tree was disqualified due to the fact that it was bought while under the influence of Ambien.
So, Michelle, you can hold your head up high today knowing that you won this made up contest by default."

Oh well, I'm happy, and isn't that all that matters?

 





 

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What The Hell Was I Thinking?

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

The last few days have been strange ones for sure. I've been off kilter and out of sorts. Is that redundant? Well at this moment I don't really give a shit. I've done, and said, things I never should have and usually wouldn't have. I guess it was a weak moment(s). There's been a reason for my weak moments, and that's been a Diva denied. I don't do that well. Yeah, I know, you're all nodding your heads in agreement. You know me well. There's something I want that I can't have and it's really messing with me. Spoiled? You know it!

My usually composed and held together self has been anything but. Maybe it's the season. I really, strongly dislike this time of year. Especially today when I'm sitting in Starbucks and it's freaking snowing! I hate snow! And I no longer have a SUV, I have a car. I haven't been without a SUV in decades, so I'm not so sure how my car will handle in the snow. That kinda freaks me out (Reaching for Xanax). Now, does the period come before or after the parenthesis? Again, whatever.

Yesterday for some reason known only to Mary, Joseph and Jesus I let my guard down and told this new therapist guy all sorts of stuff. What in the hell was I thinking? Yes, I know, you're supposed to tell therapists your innermost, darkest thoughts so everything can seemingly get worked out, right? Yeah, bullshit. I'm not falling for that anymore. As a matter of fact I think I'll just save my money and use my phone minutes. The Green Eyed Brat has better advice than some PhD. Cynical? Maybe, but we all know it's true. Besides, aren't therapists the trendy thing to have? Well, I sure as hell don't do trendy, I try to stick to the classics, you know, like Louis Vuitton. Which reminds me, my Louis has a cut in it. Time for a new one? Not until another contract is signed for sure. I know, I'm off track again...shoot me.

Now my psychiatrist, he's the real deal. He's awesome. He lets me have my way, which I very much like, but keeps me within certain parameters, which I also like. I feel safe and secure under his care. But I really think I need a re-evaluation as to my diagnosis, even though I'm pretty comfortable with it (especially since it's the mildest form and I don't have to deal with the shit that others worse off than I  have to deal with). I'm seeing more effects of PTSD than anything else. That kind of makes me laugh for some reason. Isn't PTSD trendy as well? And as a good friend says, that happens to be a doctor, my main diagnosis is the ADD of the day, way over diagnosed and an easy out. Plus a way to make money I'm sure. I'm certain it's a pharmaceutical and governmental conspiracy! 

Am I a conspiracy theorist? Some would say yes, especially those on the left. But the way I see it, I'm just a realist. An armed realist, so the left really dislike me.

See what I mean about being off kilter? I'm sure none of this is making sense and is all out of whack. But just tell me you're with me, humor me, make me feel better.

Last night was a total cluster. Yeah, it was that bad. Details not needed at this time, they will come at a later date, I'm sure another weak moment will befall me and I may, or may not, speak of it, but it will leak out and become the talk of the neighborhood.

And as long as I'm all over the place, will someone PLEASE send another follower my way? This 666 shit is freaking me out. I have thousands of followers by email, so that's cool, but 666 on Google Friend Connect and the end of the world coming this soon? Not sure I can handle both, not sure there's enough Xanax in the world to help me deal with that. 

Now my coffee is cold, my donut is half-eaten, as usual, so I guess I should wrap this up and get on with my day. I have things to conquer, plus it's massage day. I'm off to try to find a way to bring a little more order to my world and a little more control to my mouth, my emotions and my texting.

Oh, and I'm down ten pounds again. What's up with that? At least that's something that's out of my control that I'll just take and not question.

Peace out,



 

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Therapist Overload

Monday, December 17, 2012

I had an appointment with my therapist today. I don't think his life will ever be the same.

Tell me, how does one shock a therapist? Well, let's just say you should have been there.

He's relatively new to me and I wasn't really sure I could trust him. Have I ever mentioned I have major trust issues? HA!

I seem to have this life long record of trusting people only to be proven wrong time and time again, so I was a little nervous when I went in today. I view most psychologists with suspicion anyway. I mean who in their right mind would want to sit around all day, day in and day out, listening to problems voiced by others? No sane person I know, see my dilemma?

He met me in the lobby and escorted me back to his office. I was laughing as we walked through the door to the yellow painted room of secrets. That seemed to have gotten his attention. I'm usually extremely reserved with him, I mean I can talk to someone at Starbucks and not have to pay for it considering the amount of information I usually give him. I'm not even sure why in the hell I see a therapist when I have Angela.

I'm very careful with my words when I speak to him, after all he's armed with a pen and paper that only ends up in my permanent record and who in the hell knows what really happens with that record? I'm not sure how much information he writes in that file he has.

My last therapist was cool. I was really comfortable with her and would tell her anything. She'd write things like, "talked about relationship problems," or, "money matters." She also swore like a sailor, kept her feet propped up on a table and was tattooed from here to there, yeah, I totally trusted her with everything.

But this guy, I haven't been so sure about. But I gave myself away by my laughter. He asked me how my week went. I laughed a little more and shook my head, sure sign of trouble ahead.  

I hesitated for a minute, looked him in the eye and said, "I'm not sure how much I can trust you." He was cool about it and told me it was my call. So I stared at him a minute more before deciding to go full force ahead. See I was in devastated Diva mode today and, unfortunately for him, he got everything I had. 

I couldn't help but chuckle the entire time, it's better than crying isn't it? And we all know I don't do tears. Tears cause ruined make up and make for puffy eyes, not Diva-like, and I have a reputation to keep up after all.

So devastated Diva or not, I was going to get through the appointment with as much grace as possible. I pretty much laid it all out for him and let him sort out the details. He took it pretty well, I think. I mean he was still speaking to me when I paid him. Wait a minute, maybe he wasn't so sure I would pay him had he behaved any other way.

I told him of personal decisions made years prior and pretty much how the chicken flies in my life and in my relationships. In reality those decisions have worked pretty well all the way around, all sides have been in agreement and forward we went. I forget, though, that what seems normal to me may seem a bit unusual to the outsider.

But I was reminded of that this week and saw my life with fresh eyes when I invited an outsider in. Although unusual, my life usually works well. I found myself in a place trying to justify my decisions and the reality of my life, it was a situation that I haven't been in for quite some time. It was frustrating and I felt I had to defend my decisions and in the process I made a total fool of myself. That's another thing that's unusual for me. I'm usually in complete control of the information I make available to people, even here where I'm pretty damned open, for the most part I'm careful.

The therapist took it all in and asked me some pretty thought provoking questions. He didn't freak on me, he didn't seem to judge me, he just listened and gave me some great things to think about, like re-evaluating what's become status quo.

Do I keep things as they have been for years or do I make changes to allow for different experiences to enter my life? Do I stay in my comfort zone, or do I dare step out of it? Questions for the ages I tell ya, questions for the ages.






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SMH

Saturday, December 15, 2012

Just how lame is my family on a Saturday night? You're about to see. I decided not to go out with the girls tonight and instead stayed back and hung with the kids. This is what went on.

You'll also hear that I have no clue as to how to record a movie from my camera. Good thing Jakob had his up and going, yes a twelve year old is more technologically advanced than I. SMH.



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Angela

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

It really began innocently enough, well, maybe not so much. I was in Texas getting away from the mess here and was being carefree and totally irresponsible, in other words, I was hanging with my friends.

I was staying with my friend, Penguin, who has the distinction of being one of the only people on Earth to have seen me completely flat out, sailor drunk. I don't drink much, but one hot summer night at a bar(s) in the Oaklawn area of Dallas the drinks kept flowing and I kept drinking. Before I knew it I was seeing pictures of the night I had no memory of. Evidently we had quite the time and there was photographic evidence to verify the events of the evening.  I only wish I could remember even a little bit of it. Those pictures, by the way, will never be made available to another living soul, just sayin'.

I'm so off track now. Penguin, after the Night of the Drunken Diva, asked me to go to see the play "Mame." One of our friends was in it and we wanted to be there to support him full force. Penguin told me we would be meeting up with this chick named Angela. I didn't know her, or how she was about to change my life.

Penguin and I stopped to get a bite to eat while we were waiting for Angela, AKA The Green Eyed Brat, to show up. She was going to drive us to the play. Penguin and I finished our meal and were waiting in the parking lot when this shiny, new Cadillac CTS pulled up in front of us.

Behind the wheel was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. I was awe struck. Penguin got in the back seat and I rode up front with Angela. I couldn't stop myself, I had to text Penguin, who was barely three feet away from me, telling her how amazingly hot this girl was. I didn't know it at the time but Angela thought I was texting Penguin about how much I disliked her.

I can usually carry on a conversation with strangers, but for some reason I couldn't find words to say. This new girl intimidated the hell out of me. She seemed to have it all going her way. She had an amazing personality, she was funny, articulate and drop dead gorgeous.

What I didn't realize at the time was that Angela was about to become the closest friend I've ever had. I know how it began, but I don't remember how it evolved, only that for the first time in my life I felt there was another person on this Earth that I could tell anything to and she'd understand. She never judges me and flat out tells me when she thinks I'm wrong. I can tell Penguin anything as well, but there was a connection between Angela and me that is unexplainable.

What I came to understand was that Angela was me. She'd lived my life, she knew me, almost better than I knew myself, and I knew her.  She thought the same way I did, she'd had many of the same life experiences I'd had, even her kids' names matched my kids' names. She has Josiah and Alexander and I have Karli Alexandra and Josiah.

Before Angela came along I had never felt that connection with another person, this chick got me, she totally got me and I got her. We would talk for hours and the conversation was easy, not forced, not awkward, it flowed. We knew what the other was going to say before it was said. We would sit and drink, talk, laugh and cry.

There is a problem though. She lives in Texas and I live in Oregon. Facebook helps, as does Facetime on the iPhone, but I miss her. I have friends here, good friends, but there's just not another Green Eyed Brat, and right now I need my Green Eyed Brat.



 

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Why Is It?

Saturday, December 8, 2012

The small ones are the easiest; what jeans will I wear? Stone over porcelain is a no brainer, as is black nails, or red nails? Black has won out for years now, and will for the foreseeable future.

It's the big ones, the life altering ones, that are the most difficult to make, yet the most plain to see. I work in an industry where decisions of all kinds are required immediately throughout the day. They're a snap to make usually, maybe because a phone call can almost always solve the problem at hand or maybe because they're not changing the course of my life and the lives of those around me.

A rather large decision was made several years ago and, up until recently, it was workable, but now seems the right time for the next step. That step, however, has me frozen in a state of "what ifs," and fear. I'm not one to live in fear, yet I seem to be facing it on a daily basis. I was fine with the status quo then, but now is different. There's an urgency to it that is slapping me in the face.

My anxiety level is over the top some days and I'm glad I'm not alone running the business, I don't have to make all the decisions, I don't have to attend to every detail, I have someone that is exceptionally good at that. We work well together and when one is off the other steps in, just as any good partnership should be.

It's not the business I'm worried about, it's my personal life and its direction that has me tied in knots.

Someone asked me a question a few days ago and it''s been on my mind continually. No matter what I do, I can't shake it. It haunts me and it's unrelenting.

When he asked me I sighed, glanced down for just a second before looking back into his eyes and mouthing the word "No." It was at that precise moment I realized the answer should have been, "Yes, yes I am." But those answers are just technicalities, as I said, the decision was made years ago and, for me, has worked well. 

For someone on the outside looking in, I'm sure it seems unimaginable, unworkable and unbelievable. When in fact it's worked quite well, until now. Now is the time to move forward, now is the time to think of the future and now is the time to conquer the fear.


 

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OCD To The Max

Friday, December 7, 2012

I sat in Starbucks this morning, as I do every morning, sipping a double tall, whole milk, one splenda latte, working a little and watching people. I watch people a lot more than I drink coffee or work. It's been a daily ritual for years.

I think all of the people I know from my little town I've met at Starbucks. I know the Starbucks regulars and their rituals. There is one couple, however, I'm always amazed by. Even though I've watched them for several years, I still can't believe what I hear or see on a daily basis.

They come in every day with their ceramic coffee cups, newspaper and a tote bag of who knows what. They order their coffee and sit at their table by the window and go over the paper. They're probably in their late 60s. The wife is very nice and the husband is polite, but you can tell the bark is just beneath the surface.

She likes to do the word puzzles and he likes to read the articles, complaining out loud on each article he reads. They drink their coffee then go for re-fills.

They usually spend a couple of hours there, I guess which means so I do since I know that little fact, and during their time there the husband straightens every chair when a customer leaves one out of it's proper place. He arranges the bags of coffee in their baskets, he wipes the tables, grumbling all the while.

Usually he doesn't bother me much, I know what he does, but today for some reason I couldn't take it. He was everywhere, moving every table, every chair and cleaning up after everyone in between grumbling about the news of the day.

I looked at his wife in amazement. There's no way I could have been married to him as long as she has been, he would have driven absolutely nuts, kind of like he did today.

Maybe I was just on edge this morning, but I sure was glad when he took their coffee cups, as usual, to the bathroom and cleaned every trace of coffee from them, packed them in the tote alongside the newspaper and rearranged the furniture on their way out of the store.  

And I was so glad he couldn't read my thoughts.

Oh, and there's a blogger I've been reading for a while and I wanted to introduce you to her. She is an amazing writer and I wanted to send you her way. If you like her she has a link to subscribe via email. Go check her out and tell her I sent you. Her name is Lalalady and you can find her blog here. The name of her blog is Ramblings Of An Old Woman. I think you'll like her, she has such a wonderful way with words.



 

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What The Heck Is It?

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Well, I've done it. I cut my dosage (with doctor's approval) of Geodon in half. I'm only taking 80 mgs at night and guess what? I'm still sane, although it has only been one week. My goal is to totally get the poison out of my system and still be able to be sane enough to be granted a concealed weapons permit. After all Sandra Fluke said a girl needs protection, right?

Lately my stress level has increased greatly, but I partly attribute that to having to find a new girl to do my hair. Anything to do with my hair, my shoes or my lingerie can send me into full fledged panic attacks. I did find a girl to cut and color my hair. She did it today and I love it! She's the one! She corrected the major f^@k up created by the last colorist that left me looking like a blonde hooker.

So why am I experiencing such a high level of anxiety right now? My hair looks great, my shoes are all there, my lingerie is intact, and I got an awesome compliment today. A guy at Starbucks told me that I always manage to look great. How cool is that for a 50 year old grandmother that hasn't seen the inside of a gym in over a year?

But the anxiety and stress is still there. Not quite sure how to tackle it. I've taken an ativan and a muscle relaxer, I'm hiding in my room, but it won't leave. I feel this weight on me and I can't for the life of me figure out what it is.

There are several possibilities, however. (was there supposed to be an apostrophe before "however?")

Possibility number one. I haven't shopped for shoes or lingerie in months. Could it be withdrawl symptoms?

Possibility number two: I really don't like this time of year. I have such a big family and it's so stressful making sure everything is even. Those families with only one kid have it made!

Possibility number three: I have six, yes you read that right, six grandkids coming over to my house Saturday afternoon sans parents to spend the night . They're going to decorate the tree and do whatever small rodents, I mean children, do. Boy the Xanax will be flowing through my veins that night, and maybe a little Patron. 

Ativan hasn't relieved it. Zanaflex hasn't relieved it. The more I think about it, the more I think there's only one cure.

Oh Deanna, I think I need to rent your beach house for a weekend!



 

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The Fall

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

2:30 in the morning is for sleeping, not for lying awake staring at the shadows on the wall and listening to the whir of the fan. But I guess since I was asleep at 7:30 the night before it shouldn't have been too unexpected.

I tried to go back to sleep, I fought with the blankets and the pillows trying to find nirvana but it just wasn't happening. Finally about 3:30 I threw the blankets back and jumped up out of frustration. I don't do mornings, especially in the middle of the night mornings.

What in the hell was I going to do at 3:30 in the morning? I decided to get dressed and go out for breakfast. I felt around in the dark and found a pair of jeans. I pulled them on and searched for a sweatshirt. I found one, grabbed my shoes and purse and was out the door.

When I got down to the garage I noticed I'd parked a little too close to the wall. I tried to wriggle myself in between the front of the car and the wall. It was then the entire morning continued its decent into hell.

I tripped on my shoe and went flying. I tried to stop the fall to no avail. I went out and down hitting the car and my motorcycle on the way down to the concrete. I landed on the garage floor with my left knee and my left arm went straight for the motorcycle.

I couldn't move. I couldn't get up. I couldn't think of anything but the possibility of having a broken leg and a messed up motorcycle. I didn't just hit, I hit hard. It took me forever before I could get the nerve to try to get off the ground and see if I could stand.

When I did get up I was able to stand, although it was a bit difficult to do. My knee was throbbing and my arm had an incredibly sharp pain radiating through it. I thought about going to the hospital and having x-rays but hunger won out.

I hobbled to the car, fell into the driver's seat, crying all the while, and made it to Shari's for a half order of eggs benedict. What I really needed was a couple of vicodin and a bottle of Tequila.

I spent the rest of the day from hell in bed, leg elevated and iced, gobbling ibuprofen and Tylenol and trying to forget how ridiculous I must have looked flying through the air, hitting two vehicles in the process before landing in a rather un-lady like position on the cold concrete floor.

Next time I wake up in the middle of the night and can't go back to sleep I think I'll just flip on the TV. 




 

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Playing Doctor

Sunday, November 25, 2012

I'm a bit worried and a bit more scared. It seems one of my medications has given me a rather unwanted side effect. It's called tardive dyskinesia and it's no fun. Mainly it involves the tightening of the tongue in my case. So I've decided only to take half my dose of Geodon, an atypical anti-psycotic, until I can see my doctor in January. I hate emailing him between visits, it makes me feel I'm taking his valuable time and I don't want to be a bother to him.

He mentioned the TD last time I was there and told me to take 100 mgs of B6 twice a day, which I've been doing, but it's not helping.

So starting tomorrow I'll only take half my regular dosage of Geodon and see if it 1) helps the TD and 2) if I remain stable on that low of a dose.

When I see him in January I'll ask him if I can stop it altogether. It only is supposed to help control my mania, but I'm on another med that does the same thing AND protects the neuro transmitters in the brain so I think I'm going to be ok.

I certainly don't want the TD to get worse, sometimes it can be permanent and I really don't want that to be the case, but I can't take this side effect. It's bothersome, tiring and a pain in the butt.

There are so many days I wish I could go back to before I was diagnosed and be on nothing but Wellbutrin, but then my mania was off the chart and my spending sprees were out of control, I was actually out of control in so many ways, that many of you know about, thanks to the symptoms of bipolar disorder II. Until I got my medications correct there were terrible misjudgments, extreme highs and extreme lows, life was scary for everyone in my family at that time.

I'm hoping the other medication, Lamictal, will be able to control my mania well enough so that I can eliminate another medication from my trove of medications.

Wish me luck, I'm winging it here!

 

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Sunday Stealing That Led To More

Saturday, November 24, 2012

Yes, once again I've visited Sunday Stealing to see what they had this week. They had a meme stolen from what if this is as good as it gets? Now I have it. Sunday Stealing edited it down to a few, but being adventurously bored I stole the entire thing. So Here I go!

1. What was the last thing you put in your mouth? the black painted nail from my left index finger.

2. Where was your profile picture taken? in my bedroom

3. Can you play Guitar Hero? I freaking love that game!

4. Name someone who made you laugh today. Oh gosh, I think it was a laugh free day, we can't have that can we?

5. How late did you stay up last night and why? yesterday I woke up around 11, went back to bed at 2:30, woke up around 7:30 and back to sleep around 11. I have no idea what was up with that!

6. If you could move somewhere else, would you? I would love Santa Barbara!

7. Ever been kissed under fireworks? geeze I'm 50, I can't remember what I did yesterday much less under fireworks

8. Which of your friends lives closest to you on facebook? besides the one's in my house there's one across the street and I LOVE her!

9. Do you believe exes can be friends? I've seen it done, but personally I don't think I could, nor would I want to

10. How do you feel about Dr Pepper? I shall pass on the Dr. Pepper

11. When was the last time you cried really hard? Wow, we all know that I try not to do tears but it was a few days ago in Starbucks talking with my husband about how much I miss my mom.

12. Who was the last person you took a picture of? Oh, who the hell knows? It was Thanksgiving and lots of pics were taken

13. Was yesterday better than today? What happened yesterday? How do I answer that? Yesterday I slept the day away, meaning I had to deal with nothing. Today I was up early and had to deal with lots, so I think I would pick yesterday. 

14. Can you live a day without TV? I always have it on as background, but live without it? Yes, more than I could without the internet. 

15. Are you upset about anything? Yes. I. Am. lots of things. 

16. Do you think relationships are ever really worth it? There was a time I thought not. I thought it was a huge investment for not much gain, but I was really sick then and now I realize I look at couples that have been together for decades and I want what they have. 
 
17. Are you a bad influence? I have been without a doubt, but these days I'm only a bad influence on myself and my credit rating.

18. Night out or night in? Where are we going? 

19. What items could you not go without during the day? My laptop and my lip gloss

20. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital? The last time I visited someone in the hospital was a year ago when my grandson, Jax, was born. 

 21. What does the 20th text message in your inbox say? "I miss you too. Very much." I can't believe I actually counted that......I am bored!

22. How do you feel about your life right now? scared, excited, worried, hopeful

23. Do you hate anyone? hate? no. Intense dislike to the point of wishing that person a lifetime in prison being someone's bitch? yes. ALL child molesters should have that fate.

24. If we were to look in your Facebook inbox, what would we find? business stuff mainly

25. Say you were given a drug test right now, would you pass? remind me which drugs we're testing for again? Right now there are eight bottles of pills on my nightstand.

26. Has anyone ever called you perfect before? yes...perfectly insane

27. What song is stuck in your head? nothing now, but one time on a five hour motorcycle trip "love shack" wouldn't stop playing in my mind. I hate that song now. H.A.T.E.

28. Someone knocks on your window at 2:00 a.m., who do you want it to be? if you're knocking on my window at 2AM you damn well be ready to be shot

29. Wanna have grandkids before you’re 50? I was 38 when my first grandchild was born and I was 49 when the last one was born, being a young grandmother rocks!

30. Name something you have to do tomorrow. Coffee, business, groceries, write, yell at a kid

31. Do you think too much or too little? definitely too much, but that's what Xanax is for right?

33. Do you smile a lot? Evidently yes, my husband says I'm flirty, my daughter says I'm just friendly. I think I'm just me.


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Burning

Saturday, November 17, 2012

My eyes sting. They burn with an all too familiar dryness.

Dryness from the tears I refuse to let fall, tears I keep locked in a box in the corner of my heart.

They're there, just not allowed into the light of day or into the darkest of nights. 

They dare not stain the fabric of my pillow or cause make up to run down my cheek.

With tears come emotion. I've learned to keep emotion buried deeply inside for self preservation.

When the tears come, emotion floods my being, a being that cannot take on the overwhelming depth of pain, real or perceived.

Until a time comes when they can be loosed a happy face must prevail, tears must be withheld and my eyes, my eyes will continue to burn. 


 

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Stealing For Saturday

I have time to kill and I know this is supposed to be titled "Sunday Stealing" and I know it's only Saturday, but my blog, my rules. So get over it, and we'll all be much happier.

Here we go!

Have You’s and What If’s!

Welcome, to another weekend of Sunday Stealing which originated on WTIT: The Blog authored by Bud Weiser. I am your host, Lance.

 Here, we steal the most interesting and intelligent memes from every corner of the blogosphere! “honor amongst thieves” is very important to us. We have our rules. First, we always credit the blog that we stole it from and we will “fess up” to the blog owner where we stole the meme. Second, We also provide a link to the victim's blog. (It's our way of saying "Thanks!") We do sometimes edit the original meme, usually to make it more relevant to our global players.

Answer any way you like, sarcastic, honest, silly, or any other way! it is up to you! Well, that’s enough intro - Let’s get on with it!!

Today we ripped off a blogger named Bud Weiser(Because we do not think it has ever been done so far) from the blog: WTIT: The Blog It was combined from two different memes from a feature he ran once upon a time called Sat-8. He says he got it from someone named Lola. But, it was probably stolen there as well. So, of course, that will be as far as we go.

Tracing back our theft's thieves might take some time. Take the time to comment on other player's posts. It's a great way to make new friends!

Link back to us at Sunday Stealing! Sunday Stealing: Have You’s and What If’s!

1. Have you anything to confess today?
Well might as well get down to nuts and bolts. I'm extremely angry and I actually used a tactic I learned in a Dialectical Behavior Workbook to deflect myself from self harm. So there's my morbid confession for the day.

 2. have you ever broken a law? If so, what was it? Yes I have and I'm SO glad Judge Judy didn't find out. Woman scares the hell out of me!

3. have you ever committed an act of betrayal against a friend or family member? explain. I'm sure I have more than I know. I guess I'd like to know so I could rectify it.

4. Has someone else done something that, to this day, makes you cringe when you think about them committing the act?. Ok, we're talking about my life and the crap that's happened it? Just wanting to be sure. Instead of cringing they make me want to shoot. Mainly my daughter and grand son being terribly abused.

5. Have you ever found yourself sexually aroused by someone that you absolutely should not have been? On advice of my attorney I'm declining to answer under my fifth amendment rights.

6. have you ever cheated at school? how so? One time that I remember. I was in eighth grade and we were in a poetry unit. although I can write poetry now, I had no clue then. My friend that was amazing wrote it for me. She's now the senior attorney for the Government Accounting Office. Believe it or not, I still feel really badly about that. 

7. What if you came across a backpack stuffed with one hundred thousand dollars. Would you keep it? My human nature would want to keep it, my conscience would give it back. after all Karma's a bitch.

8. What if you were the most powerful person in the world. How would you use that power? I already am. I'm helping raise the future generation.

9. What if you found a magic lamp? I'd ask for a lot of land so that the kids could all build houses on it, alone with us, and have a great meeting place, play yard, in the middle.

10. What if you could change one thing about the world. What would that one thing be? the polarization

11. What if you could take one thing back. What would that one thing be? leaving Cole with that babysitter and not trusting my instincts with my daughter's ex husband.

12. What if you were stuck on an island forever but had all the water, food and shelter you needed. What would you do? I would do what I haven't been able to do for thirty years, I would relax, tan, drink and just be.

13. What if the internet didn't exist? you wouldn't be reading this

14. What if you never started blogging? I would have exploded a long time ago with all the crap I have to get out!

15. What are your November 22 Thanksgiving plans? Kids, my house, cooking, eating, ya know, the norm.


 

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This Blonde Walks Into A Bar Alone

Monday, November 12, 2012


It's been decades since I walked into a bar alone, wait that's a lie. I walked into one a couple of years ago in Texas to meet up with my best friend, Angela, but that's a whole different story involving some businessmen, a few lies and a possum. 

Several nights ago I walked into a little tavern totally solo. It is one of the Happy Valley neighborhood hangouts, and I was hoping there would be no one there I knew. Since I was sans friends there would be questions, "What are YOU doing here?" "Hey, wanna hook up?"

If there was anyone there I knew, no matter my explanation, there would be a gossip wildfire that could never be put out. My reputation as the mom with the huge, multi-colored family would be replaced with one as the town skank. Hell, my own opinion has changed after seeing several people alone in that little bar a few times.

I made a bee line to the bar, I didn't look around at the people there, I avoided all eye contact. I found an empty seat near the back, out of eye's sight of the rest of the bar and grabbed it. I had a craving for fried liver and that's the only place I knew I could find it.  The bartender recognized me and we chatted a few minutes, he knew the liver was for me, that's about all I order to eat when I'm there. I had called in my order but had to wait about 20 minutes after I got there. So I sat back on the bar stool and screwed around on my phone. Thank God for smart phones!

The guy sitting next to me was quite boisterous, obviously drunk and was there to drink and drink a lot. He yelled out "HOW TALL ARE YOU?" Yeah, he had that much class. At least he didn't ask if I played basketball in school, I would have been arrested for a quick throat punch to the less than classy drunk. I don't ask short people if they were a jockey or heavy people if they were a Sumo wrestler, so give it a rest already. Have a little class, don't be an asshole.

I was trying to mind my own business but the drunken loudmouth would have none of it and peppered me with questions. I answered politely, but my answers were very short and sweet. Finally he turned to the woman to his other side. The first thing he loudly asked her was, "Hey, ya wanna see my new tattoo? You'll never guess what it is!"

"I bet it's an asshole," she responded, he was too drunk to get it. I heard chuckles from the rest of the people at, and around, the bar.

The guy proceeded to remove his shirt and flash his new tattoo. I didn't look, I tried not to hear. This guy was not only embarrassing himself, he was embarrassing everyone around. When he didn't get the response from her that he had hoped for he turned back to me. 

By this time I was really feeling uncomfortable. I'm usually with friends and I don't have to worry about idiots. But they weren't there. I was on my own and I didn't know how to handle myself. Miss self-assured was a bit on edge.

The guy next to me kept up the questions and general drunken chatter. That's when my savior appeared. The bartender showed up with my order.

"Here's your two orders of livers."

"WHAT," yelled the drunken man, "LIVERS?"

"Yes, livers," I said as I held my head high.

"That's the most disgusting thing I've EVER heard of!"

I felt victorious as I paid the bartender, grabbed my livers and strutted out of the bar leaving the drunk in a state of shock.







 

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The Reality

Friday, November 9, 2012

I never really listened to Nine Inch Nails and Trent Reznor but I was uploading a version of his song "Hurt" by Johnny Cash today. I was feeling a bit nostalgic.

My Dad loved Johnny Cash. He reminds me of Dad, he reminds me of growing up. I idolized my father and whatever he liked, I liked.

I bought Johnny Cash's last five CDs, the ones he recorded in the months before his death, on a whim of nostalgia. I decided to upload them to my car and the first song that uploaded was "Hurt."

I never listened intently to Trent Reznor's version, but today I listened to Johnny Cash's version, every single word, many times over.

It so perfectly fits with some of the darkest days I've experienced dealing with Bipolar Disorder, especially the first part of the song.  I listened to every word, I took them deep into my soul, I have lived them, I do live them.

I haven't written much about my disorder lately, I guess because things seem relatively "normal," whatever "normal" is, in my mind lately. My life is chaotic as usual, but the swings have really leveled out.

I sat motionless as I breathed in every word of this song, over and over again. It was, it is, my life.
If you listen to the song try to realize that you're listening to a part of me.

In "those times" I'm not being dramatic, I'm not going to react if you say "just snap out of it," or "you can handle this." Because at those times I can't, it only shows your ignorance of the disorder. The disorder consumes me and I retreat for a few days before I am able to bring myself out of the darkness. Thank goodness I can now bring myself out of the pit in a relatively short amount of time and thank goodness those times are now very rare.

If you're so inclined, listen to this song and, for a short time, live pieces of my reality.





 

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The Reality

I never really listened to Nine Inch Nails and Trent Reznor but I was uploading a version of his song "Hurt" by Johnny Cash today. I was feeling a bit nostalgic.

My Dad loved Johnny Cash. He reminds me of Dad, he reminds me of growing up. I idolized my father and whatever he liked, I liked.

I bought Johnny Cash's last five CDs, the ones he recorded in the months before his death, on a whim of nostalgia. I decided to upload them to my car and the first song that uploaded was "Hurt."

I never listened intently to Trent Reznor's version, but today I listened to Johnny Cash's version, every single word, many times over.

It so perfectly fits with some of the darkest days I've experienced dealing with Bipolar Disorder, especially the first part of the song.  I listened to every word, I took them deep into my soul, I have lived them, I do live them.

I haven't written much about my disorder lately, I guess because things seem relatively "normal," whatever "normal" is, in my mind lately. My life is chaotic as usual, but the swings have really leveled out.

I sat motionless as I breathed in every word of this song, over and over again. It was, it is, my life.
If you listen to the song try to realize that you're listening to a part of me.

In "those times" I'm not being dramatic, I'm not going to react if you say "just snap out of it," or "you can handle this." Because at those times I can't, it only shows your ignorance of the disorder. The disorder consumes me and I retreat for a few days before I am able to bring myself out of the darkness. Thank goodness I can now bring myself out of the pit in a relatively short amount of time and thank goodness those times are now very rare.

If you're so inclined, listen to this song and, for a short time, live pieces of my reality.





 

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Creepy!

Friday, November 2, 2012





Every time I look at this picture I laugh a lot and then on the other hand her crazy eyes and big red lips freak me out. Maybe I just had too many cocktails, but somehow I don't think so if you can see it too.

This is a picture of my four year old granddaughter, Anna-Grace Elizabeth, on Halloween night. She looks like the plastic surgeon went a little over board with the juvederm, or maybe she was attacked by honey bees.

I can't stop looking at it and the creep out factor has never left. Good thing though is if you look closely, you can hardly see her scar from open heart surgery when she was 8 months old. A few more years and I think it will be a faded memory.



She's a pretty girl, she really is.....without the lips!




 

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There Were FLOORS Of Them!

Monday, October 29, 2012

I got a new car today. WHAT? Yeah I know I just got one two weeks ago. But things happen right? The first car deal just didn't set well with me. I told them the options that were must and options that would be nice but not necessary.

I was shown two cars, then one was sold out from under me so there was just the one remaining. It was a black on black Mercedes E350 and it was loaded to the max. I took it even though I was went to get  NEW car. That should have been my first clue.

Then the salesman was supposed to do some things for me that he never did, I kept receiving Fed Ex packages that the "finance" girl forgot to have us sign originally.

Then I went in for a lesson on how to learn to use the navigation, it was much, much different from my last Mercedes' navigation system. I wanted him to show me how to load CDs into the music registry along with a few more "need to know" options.

The salesman basically went through everything quickly not giving me a chance to ask questions or to try to do it myself. It was so frustrating.

Then the next day I received another fed ex envelope with more papers to sign. That was it. I was done and swore I'd never step foot into that dealership again. I decided to call the general manager and tell him of all the problems I had during my car shopping experience.

To my surprise he was a very nice man. He told me to come back in and he'd make it right, that the most important thing was that I was happy. I had my doubts but went anyway.

So yesterday Nikki and I went to downtown Portland to check it all out. The GM came out and introduced himself. He was handsome and very polite. He set me up with different salesman that took me trough the warehouses. It appeared they had thousands and thousands of cars, and the first salesman never went over the cars they had in stock, according to him there were only two cars that fit my criteria, neither of them new. They were certified pre-owned.

They had about 35 of the cars I wanted. Hmmm. We went over to another warehouse, with three floors of cars, and looked for the three I'd narrowed my choices to. The one I really wanted was still wrapped in plastic and cardboard. They unwrapped it for me and allowed me to sit in it and get a feel for it. I turned down the test drive because I'd been driving another one for two weeks.

That was it, that was the one I wanted and it only had 4 miles on it. 4 miles! We went to the general manager and we swapped cars. He took back the original one back and substituted the new one for it. I lost no money in the deal.

There was a little paperwork involved in the swap and while it was being prepared the salesman took me out and gave a comprehensive look at the options that were scrambling my brain. Now I really know how to work the voice help, the navigation and the uploading CDs into the cars memory.

The dealership I vowed never to step foot in again has restored my faith. I just might have to visit Mercedes of Portland again. And the car I came away with was another black on black E350. I'm happy.

 

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Wise Man

Monday, October 22, 2012





My senses are alive while my spirit seems bound. I can feel the clouds rolling in and I can taste the misty fog they bring. I'm aware of the coming fall and I sense the effects that are changing my life.



I feel lifeless and cold. I have no desire to shower, wash my hair, do my make up or even pop in my contacts.

The chilled rain is falling and I silently scream out for help, help that in this state, I’m not sure I want, but I know I need.

It’s been this way for weeks. I’m hesitant to tell my doctors. I don’t want the inevitable med change that only makes things worse until they possibly get better. New meds are not the answer. I’m not sure what is.

I think seeing my brothers and my aunts would help. I want to see my parents although it would only be me sitting between two gravesites sharing sips of coffee with the dead.

I miss them a lot and dream I could wish them to life if only for a day. Then I would wish for one more day and then another. I wish the same for Isaiah, to take him from his Creator’s arms to hold and rock him one more day, to tell him I love him, to smell his baby head.

 I ran into a wise man at Starbucks today, a friend and an inspiration. I asked how he was and here's how he responded, “I’m great! You know why?” I took his bait and asked why. “Because that’s something I’m in charge of.”

I want his will power. I want be able to say that and to believe it. Maybe I will tomorrow, but today’s not the day.

 

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Jiggity Jig

Friday, September 28, 2012

Nothing too eventful this year, no shootings, no colors, nothing more than a broken shifter arm, lost glasses, and lots of great riding.

Luckily one of my friends was able to repair the shifter arm. No such luck with his glasses. Something to remember: when you're flying down the highway at 75 MPH, you should never open your windshield bag for anything because things, glasses, tend to fly out.

We had some great meetings with some builders and other general contractors that had good advice and great leads. We watched people, met people and looked at the menagerie of bikes and bikers.

Instead of taking two days back to Portland this year, we took three. We wanted to check out a new route and go by Crater Lake. It was incredible. Although I was a little pissed that the best motorcycle road I've ever been on had construction happening and we had to follow a pilot car for about twenty miles, still it was gorgeous. I'm ready to ride it again next season without the construction. For you Oregonian riders it's State Road 138 from Crater Lake to Roseburg and it's fantastic! It's full of great curves and beautiful scenery. It goes through the Umpqua National Forest, and that's one beautiful forest.

I can't even begin to tell you how many forests we went through, although I don't really understand how a desert can be classified as a National forest.

Now for a few pics of the trip!



Virginia City


Bar from the 1800's

Isabella

Lake Tahoe



Really?



Burney Falls


Mt. Shasta










Long Horns in Oregon, really?



 

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The Event

Thursday, September 13, 2012

I'm so glad I pay for vacations and such a year or so before I take them. Next Tuesday I'm leaving for Reno for a rally called Street Vibrations. It's the fourth largest motorcycle event in the country.

The reason I'm glad I've already paid the non refundable fees is that this year I'm flat broke. We missed almost six months of work, but it seems to be picking up some.....fingers crossed!

The group leaves Tuesday the 18th and will be home the 25th. It's usually a two day ride to Reno but on the way home we're going to take a different route and go through Crater Lake Park. That will turn the 2 day ride into a 3 day ride.

Thank God for cell phones and the Weather Channel app! If it even looks the least bit cold at Crater Lake, elevation of around 7000 feet, there's no way in hell I'll be riding through it, even with my heated gear.

I'm kind of wondering how this year's rally will go. They've made it into a "no colors" event, which means the clubs, better known to the public as gangs, won't be able to wear their "cuts," their vests proclaiming which "club" they belong to.

Street Vibrations has traditionally been claimed by the Hell's Angels and their support clubs.  Sometimes other clubs try their luck and show up. At last years event a member of the notorious club called the Vagos (look 'em up, their some pretty bad dudes) shot and killed a Hells Angel chapter president in a casino firefight and the war was on. The next day an Angel shot a Vago.

This years dress code is pretty strict, down to shoe laces. No club colors in bandanas, patches, wrist bands, shoe strings, etc. Which leaves me in the lurch, some of the bandanas I usually take are red and white, the colors of the Hell's Angels. It's going to be interesting to see what takes place this year and if they're able to keep the clubs at bay or if the clubs will rebel and show up in full force.

Either way it will be interesting and a much needed time away.

I'll try to post some pics along the way. It's a beautiful ride and the event itself is pretty cool, well, if you like motorcycles. 

 More later,


 

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The Culture

Thursday, September 6, 2012

I love the biker culture. I love that a biker will help another biker at any time for any reason. I love that everyone that rides is a "brother" or a "sister."

I love the sounds of bikes, I love the looks of bikes. I love the leather and the tattoos. I love the diversity and I love the respect bikers show for each other.

There is one part of the culture that I really don't get, or maybe I don't want to get.

I was sitting at a bike event tonight listening to the band. It was the perfect night for a gathering, the weather was warm and dry and everyone was still celebrating summer. As we sat there I watched the girls.

There are always unattached girls around. Most scantily dressed with their short shorts, tight short dresses, high heels and torn t-shirts. It's easy to see they didn't get there on the back of someone's bike and they certainly didn't ride themselves. 

They're women hoping to pick up a biker for the night, or perhaps a little longer. They stand out, they really stand out. In the world of the biker these girls are called "pass arounds," for obvious reasons.

There are also what's called "biker babes." In the words of a "club" member  "a biker babe enjoys the lifestyle, has morals and will gut you for unwanted advances," and "a pass around welcomes them."

While the band played the pass arounds danced seductively to the music all the time holding tightly to their beer. They were doing their best to be noticed and hopefully picked out of the crowd by anyone that would give them the attention they were seeking. 

They are as young as those in their twenties and as old as late fifties, early sixties. I took pictures but decided not to post them. It was sad watching them do their thing. Watching those lonely women do everything in their power hoping to be noticed by someone that would most probably give them what they wanted and throw them away a few hours later was very sad.

I know there are people like that in every arena of life, but for some reason the biker world seems disproportionately filled with them. The girls are at every event, every gathering, every rally, and every biker bar. 

It's sad, very sad.

On another note, check out this bike. It is covered with pennies and nickels. Strange, very strange. Someone had a little too much time on their hands it appears. But in a way it's kind of cool being so different.


Then there's this shot I like.




 

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