60 Days

There has been much that I have learned in the last 60 days, but I am still having trouble organizing my thoughts.

I guess the biggest thing I have learned is that "My worst day clean and sober is better than my best day using" is not such a cliche after all.  I had a shit ton of great times being high and doing cool stuff.  But, even at the very best of those times, I knew my search for the BBB would begin again.

BBB stands for Bigger, Better Buzz.  Even my best times, what ever they were, I was worrying about the good feeling ending and what I could do to prolong it, recreate it or make it better.

I am glad to be free of that.  It is freeing to be here, now and not thinking about what I need to put into my body to improve this moment or make future ones better.

The other day I found a picture of Eloise as a puppy.  Her ears are sticking up and she has this really goofy grin on her face..At the bottom, I wrote  "Right this moment, I am happy."

Eloise is my personal clown-dog

Sobriety doesn't always make me happy, but it does give me what I need when I need it, which is only in this moment.

30 Days

30 days since my last drug.  Woo Hoo!

The 5,6,7,8s were probably one of the best rock and roll bands EVER

I had been trying for days to remember what we did for Thanksgiving last year (or Christmas, but maybe it will come to me).  I didn't know if we stayed here, were someplace else or what.  

Yesterday was Thanksgiving and I was grateful to be sober.This is not the life I saw for myself.

The Best is Yet to Come

I got this  in my inbox today:

" Shame and guilt left unaddressed can paralyze us, preventing us from moving forward in our lives. Some of the most meaningful amends we can make for the mistakes of our past are made simply by acting differently today. We strive for improvement and measure our success by comparing who we used to be with who we are now.
Being human, we will continue making mistakes; however, we need not make the same ones over and over again. By looking over our past and realizing that we have changed and grown, we’ll find hope for the future. The best is yet to come."

Copyright © 1991-2012 by Narcotics Anonymous World Services, Inc. All Rights Reserved

The less I try to make things fit into my preconceptions, the more they make sense.

Two things that people often tell me are that I have low self esteem and that I make things too hard for myself.  So, when I saw that the next group was going to be on shame and guilt, I prepared myself for a grim and fruitless struggle with my guilty conscience knowing I would never be free from the bondage of my shame.

When I think about my shame and guilt, it is through a  lens of what (I think) a healthy, normal person would have done, not someone with the disease of addiction.  That is how sneaky it is; we addicts are more comfortable seeing ourselves as mean spirited, lying, manipulating, stealing, evil minded selfish monsters than admitting we are sick people.  People who, if we were in our right minds, would never have done the messed up stuff we did while in our addiction's sway.

And it was our loved ones that got the worst of it; their love and trust was a great resource for helping feed our addictions.  But that addiction is an illness.  Instead of attacking  on a cellular level like other illnesses, addiction clouds our judgement and makes us susceptible to making bad choices.


Emotions like guilt and shame are useful only because they warn us that other people can have real consequences of our behavior. In order to stop me from hurting other people, I built a jail and lined the walls with my shame and guilt.


Our facilitator asked if, since we got clean, were we still doing shameful things?  I can honestly say that in the last 24 days, I have not. I did those shameful things because I am sick, not because I am a bad person.  I am a pretty decent fellow, capable of loving and being loved, respecting of others and worthy of their respect.

Alcoholics and addicts in recovery strive to change their behavior first, then their thinking.  Next, we are urged to "clean house" by examining our old bvehavior, especially those behaviors that affected others and making amends to them.

I have been sick for a long time, not just the last few years.  My drinking and drug use has always been irresponsible since I was 19 (the drinking age in Ohio in 1983).  One of the things that has motivated me these last 3 weeks is that I have 20 years of amends to make.

In movides and TV,when ever some goes into recovery from addiction, they immediately begin to make a series of awkward and insincere amends.  They are apologies are for their benefit only,  "I don't want you to be angry at me any longer." or their amends are simply thinly disguised resentments.

Right now, I am working to get better.  Until then, I won't be able to process and appreciate my responsibility in my actions.  Only then, will I feel worthy of asking you for forgiveness.

Until then, every day that I don't use, I get stronger and my disease gets weaker.

Lost

"No one's ever lost forever

When they die they go away

But they will visit you occasionally

Do not be afraid

No one's ever lost forever

They are caught inside your heart

If you garden them and water them

They make you what you are"

from the song "Lost" by Amanda Palmer and the Grand THeft ORchestra from the album Theater is Evil

Baby Punching

After the election, I saw that America had made a definite step towards legalizing marijuana . Personally, I have always thought that our laws about marijuana were archaic, expensive and had nothing to do with protecting us from ourselves.  It was kind of cool to think aobut an America where dope was legal (and, what the hell, taxed) until I realised that I probably would not be joining in the celebration.

Then I was mad. Here it was, two weeks after I stopped using, and my dreams of legal highs were taken away.  For my facebook status, I posted that I was angry enough to punch a baby.

 I remember when people used to tell me that they never knew what I would say next.  But I had been so busy trying to people please, hide my addiction and everything else, that saying outrageous things where no longer a part of my life.  It was good to see a glimpse of the old me.

I said, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

There were no beds for me at the local detox place, so I ended up doing it from the "comfort" of home. Mark Renton, the heroin addict protagonist of Irvine Welsh's novel Trainspotting, describes the relationship between opioids and ourselves as floating on a beautiful sea:

"This internal sea.  The problem is that this beautiful ocean carries with it loads ay poisonous flotsam and jetsam... that poison is diluted by the sea, but once the ocean rolls out, it leaves the shite behind, inside ma body.  It takes as well as gives..."

I consider myself fortunate that my withdrawal only lasted about 72 hours, 60 of them on the toilet.  But when I woke up on the fourth day, the second thing that popped in my head (the first was a realisation that I didn't have to run to the bathroom) was "Oh no, I have to be sober all day!"

Update

It has been five days since my last narcotic.  I just finished my first night good night's sleep in nearly a week.  When I say good, I mean pain free (without drugs).  

Now what am I supposed to do?

The bed at a detox never appeared, but I got it on medical advice that I was pretty well through it.  Detoxing is a physical process where the body begins to readjust to live without massive chemical influx it has been deluged with for X amount of time.  It is different from treatment or rehab (I learned).

Detoxing is relatively brief compared to the longer hospital stays for treatment.  I have heard some people share about being in their second year of treatment.  I realized I was unclear about that in my last post (as I was in my own head).  

Which brings the fact that there is a lot about this process (I guess I can call it recovery?) that I do not know.  

I found this yesterday, seems apropos:

                                                              N.A. 3rd Step Prayer

Take my will & my life,

Guide me in my recovery,

Show me how to live.

Decisions Decisions

I ran into Ella's favorite groomer yesterday.  She greeted me with a smile and told me she had a dream about me recently.  I said that women always tell me that (leaving out that it is usually in nightmares).

She had something very serious on her mind that she wanted to share about a big decision she had made.  With the support of her fiance, she was quitting her job.  She had faith that this was the right thing to do, but it was scary because she did not know what the next step would be.  "It might be the worst decision I ever made," she said.

The Moon is Beautiful

4:30 in the morning.  It is nice and cool outside, I can see the quarter moon from my back porch over Georgia Highway 67.

A year after Natasha died, I decided I didn't want to be crazy any longer.  Coincidentally, it was also at 4:30 am that I had this epiphany.

I started going back to Alanon meetings.  At last night's meeting the topic was acceptance.  Halfway through the meeting, I shared that, so far, we had been talking about acceptance in terms of alcohol and the alcoholics in our lives, straight from the first step.  But I was thinking about the Serenity prayer.  In the first third of it, we say God grant me the serenity to accept the things we cannot change.

Acceptance is a gift. And it is a gift that we constantly have to ask God for.  I quit asking after Natasha's death.  It was too painful to revisit that everyday, sometimes many times in one day.  I felt I would be better off just struggling through.  It was not that I thought I could do it better on my own, I just didn't think I could do it at all.

That was kind of like turning up the radio, rolling down the windows, flooring the gas pedal and taking my hands off the steering wheel.  As much fun as it is to do that, it never ends well.

One year ago today

Natasha Suarez  

January 8, 1986-September 2, 2011

I don't know why God took you from me. But knowing would not replace the pain of your absence.

Labor Day Weekend

Adrienne, driving by, trying to find a parking place

I am waitingat  Vinnie van Gogo's Pizza in Savannah while Adrienne park's the car .  There is a certain incongruity in the atmosphere.   The wraith like waitstaff stalk around the tables on their fleshy, ink covered stilts from Hell legs, their Betty Page bangs slick with sweat of the humid Savannah air.  Danzig era Misfits (from a cassette!) drifts from the sound system in the bar, adding a 1980s-ish, punk/hardcore cachet to the ambiance.  Inside the bar looks like the bar where I saw him perform with Samhain.  The bar and tables are surrounded by customers wearing University of Georgia jerseys, the women sporting shiny, golden open-toed sandals with bright pedicures and men in crisp denim and khaki shorts.

Mercedes often strikes a similar pose 

There is an attitude of tough, almost aloof like behavior from the crew that works here.  The hostess cautions the Ralph Lauren clad older couple next to me, "The waitress may be a few minutes, but she is here."  When she arrives, she is solicitous and congenial.  Obviously, she isn't so hardcore that she doesn't have bills to pay.

Issac seems to have moved on after having done its damage to Louisiana.  This time last year, Hurricane Irene had mysteriously made it's way all the way to Vermont, resulting in extensive flooding, damaging or destroying many of Vermont's historic and beautiful covered bridges, cutting off several rural towns and causing at least three deaths.

During the days of high winds and down pour, Natasha was struggling to get treated for the pain and stiffness in her neck.  Sent home from the emergency room  of the hospital in Middlebury with pain killers, she resorted to calling 911 and was taken by ambulance to the hospital at Fletcher-Allen Healthcare, in Burlington.  By the time it was discovered she had an abscess in her spine, the hole in her spine that should not have been there had done a pretty thourough job of flooding her system with infectious sewage.

Without medical attention, the body's weapons against infection are few, fever and flooding.  As her temperature rose, Natasha's began producing copious amounts of fluids and opening up its capillaries.  She began to fill up with bacteria and white blood cells and rotten tissue, casualties of the war going on inside her.  With her internal roadblocks removed, the infection took advantage of the increased avenues of access to rapidly escalate its attack on her.  Her lungs quickly filled up the excess fluids.

The ICU doctor told us that her lungs were so filled with fluid that they were invisible on the X-rays, like someone had used white out to remove them from the picture.

Even if she could have gotten oxygen into the lungs, Natasha's blood was so full of infected cells that it couldn't carry enough to sustain her.  Her system was so delicate that the shock of trying to move her for an MRI to pinpoint the abscess that had turned her body into a toxic sewer was too much and her heart stopped. 

Thank you, Jesus

finally, after months of debating and researching we brought home our new dog. He is a young adult, weighs 13 pounds and is quite shy. Eloise and Thor welcomed him in their own ways.  Now he is enjoying exploring his new home.

In other news, I wiggled my big toes for the first time since I got sick.

Pet Adoptions

We are looking to add another dog to our menagerie.  When I was a kid, dad took me to the local pound, I picked out a pooch, he payed the fee and we went home.

Not so simple these days.

Here is the essay I wrote for one local adoption agency:

We have been married since 1996. Michael brought a dog, Bessie, and a cat, Nuit, to our relationship. We got a cocker spaniel as a wedding gift from a lovely couple in our church. Our daughter got her own cat, Olivia. All of our pets have lived long lives, 15+.

When Bessie suffered a debilitating stroke and had to be put to sleep, it became apparent that Franny, the cocker, suffered hardest without her. She became incontinent and destructive to the furniture, unusual for her. One day our daughter brought home Eloise and Frannie's anxiety driven behaviors vanished.

We had to put Frannie to sleep last fall when her arthritis began to have a serious impact on her life.

Our pets have always been treated as part of the family-receiving regular dr. visits, vaccinations, grooming, etc. We closely supervise them, their activity level and diets. We have a saying, "Anyday that the dogs are tired out, was a good day."

All our pets are indoor animals; the cats never go out and we have a large fenced in yard.

Pets, especially dogs, are examples of God's unconditiional love and we strive to treat them as His creations and gifts to us. Their presence in our lives has been a great blessing, providing comfort and companionship in the good and bad times. They teach us how to make room in our lives for things other than ourselves and the importance of providing care and nurturing other living things (and the planet).

On Being a TAB

I love the church we joined, it has been an amazing experience for me.  However, going to a Methodist church in a red state is an experience unlike anything I had seen previously in my swinging, hippy liberal churches in the north.

But when in fellowship, God's love is present, flowing through everyone and to us all.  Way better than intermission at a Dead show.

There is one couple that Adrienne and I had a bond with from the very first time we saw them because she is the primary care giver to the husband, who late in life became afflicted with a debilitating, chronic illness that affects his nerves.  There was a period when they thought he would never leave the hospital, let alone walk again.

But he proved them wrong.  He gets around with his walker and motorized wheelchair and has a daily exercise regime that is truly impressive.  He spends hours everyday, either at the gym or in the pool, working out.  She, of course, is tasked with the things he cannot do for himself.  She told us about the many steps she has to go through whenever they travel; on over night trips, she has to repeat the process every morning before they can leave the hotel.

Today he shared that he has suddenly lost a significant amount of strength in his legs; this is never good news.  Even though even though he didn't sound upset or even concerned, I felt alarm for him and his wife.  


Of course, I quickly realized that that is going to happen to me someday.  I mean, happen to us.

For a while there, I used to rail at the TABs (Temporarily Able Bodied), but I stopped when I rejoined their ranks.   Most of the time, I take it for granted that I will never be paralised again.  The weight of that knowledge is too much to carry around everyday.

Much Overdue Update; My New Equipment

Remember the $6 Million Dollar Man?  I feel like him today with all my new prosthesis and what not.

This is my CPAP (Continuous positive airway pressure) machine.  It forces air down through my nose to keep my airways open, used to help reduce sleep apnea.  My neurologist believe my difficulty sleeping is the cause of my exhaustion.  

I am still learning how to use it, it's pretty uncomfortable to wear.

Yay!  New Ankle-Foot Orthotics.  My pain doctor believes that the my pain is caused by the way I walk.  She sent me back to physical therapy and prescribed new orthotics and a TENS (Transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation ) machine.  These new AFOs are hinged at the ankle, allowing me to move my foot like the TABs.  That flexibility in the ankle is pretty weird, I am having to relearn how to walk.  Aside from the new aches from unused muscles, I am taking to them pretty fast.  

The TENS (Transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation ) machine applies electric stimulation to my nerves in pain spots.  I don't know why it works, but it does.  The electric shocks take a bit of getting used to, but using an hour a day has caused the pain in my hips to practically disappear.

Midnight Salad

At midnight last night, Mercedes, my grand daughter, climbed into bed like a cat; I nearly kicked her in the face to get rid of her.  Since I am a big baby about getting woken up, I decided to the best way to get back to sleep would be a self induced food coma.

Inspired by the salad I had my friend Stacy's house (Stacy does everything wonderfully), the refrigerator was stocked with all sorts of salad goodies, including an avocado, kalamata olives, and some Irish Pub Cheese (a substitute for  the mozzarella balls in olive oil).

Putting about a third of one half of the avocado, about half a dozen olives, several thin slices of cheese that I chopped into bits into a bowl and a handful of romaine lettuce I sprinkled a few drops of lime juice, and olive oil onto my salad.  Lastly, I went to the spice cabinet and added a little salt and some mint flakes (I could not find any oregano or basil, could we be out?!).

A quick toss in the bowl and I dug in.  It was exactly what I wanted, salty, with a little sweet and cool for kicks.  Because avocados are so difficult to keep, we seldom have them and I had forgotten how much I love their nut-like flavor.

Of course the salt and even saltier olives left me craving something sweet-my answer to that was a B & B nightcap.

Sadly, an hour after she woke me up and just as I was finishing typing the above paragraph, Mercedes crawled back into bed with us.

In other news, I have been going back to physical therapy to help manage my pain, plus I have a slew of new equipment to show off, which I plan to write about soon.  

Another song I can't listen to without crying...

Watch "Cat Stevens - Morning Has Broken" on YouTube

today was because the gravestone setting for Natasha's plot.  The group that gathered together in the rain included Adrienne and her family from Boston, Matt, Mercedes,a large group of Nataha's friends and what of our closest friends could make it.

The pastor read a great poem that made me realize it was time to stop thinking about the awful things and start celebrating the gift that was Natasha's life.

I had to turn away when we sang "Morning has Broken.“ Afterwards, Mercedes gave everyone present a rock to place on the gravestone; I am keeping mine.

I was so grateful to see so many of Natasha's friends come. Her friends were one of the most important things in her life. These very beautiful young woman demonstrated to us how they have inspired so much loyalty as they comforted us and gave us some of Natasha's love.  Then they made us laught by telling stories about her teen years

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The First of June

I have been having lots of fun in Vermont.  My friends in Brattleboro not only fed and sheltered, they gave me lots intellectual stimulation.  My two days there were full of the invogorating discussions, witty and fastaced, that I love so much.

But now the work of putting the final touches on Natasha's final resting place have to be dealt with.

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Physical Therapy

In PT today I learned that the young, cute lil southern belle with the darling accent is really possessed by the demon Pazuzu.  I realized this as she stood over me, screaming, "Are you going to cry like a little girl?  Are you my little bitch?"  while cracking her ID lanyard like a whip.  Then she vomited green bile over me.

This is the first time I ever cried in PT.

Good News

It turned out that my potentially new doctor was an even bigger tool than my present one so I decided to stay with the devil I know.  The guy took a phone call during our meeting, badgered me to hurry up, then abruptly ended the appointment, telling me to make a follow up.

Plus his office staff was really rude.

I will  say this for my present doctor, I needed to have five prescriptions refilled this week and his office got four out of the five sent to the pharmacy before they close of business.  Although, of course, all without returning any of my calls.

But, I said there was good news to be told and here it is:

I had asked for a consultation with a pain specialist and yesterday was my appointment.  I was there for three hours before I got to see her-all of that spent waiting.  The only reason I stayed that long was so I could give her a piece of my mind about leaving me waiting so long.

Anyway, I am glad I stayed.  Not only did she have some strategies to help me, she also thinks I can get along with out my AFOs!  It is going to take some therapy, time, and probably some sweat also, but WAHOOOIE!

In other news, I decided to attend the stone setting at Natasha's grave in June.  It will be nice to see Vermont, especially some dear friends there.

Second Anniversary

This is me, two years ago.  Last year I was jubilant.  Not so much this year.  I have noticed that I am continuing to get stronger (yay!) physically.  Mentally, I am struggling. I wrote some poetry last week and posted it on another blog. When I went back to reread it, I realized that I am a really angry man.  I keep thinking about those days and weeks in hospitals.  In other news, it has been a long time since my last IVIG.  That means I am going to start getting off of the Cellcept and if that goes well, Prednisone.  

And after another prescription SNAFU, I have decided to get a new doctor.  I am waiting to hear back from some one from church recommended.

Confessions-You Don't Have to Say You Love Me

I am going to share something that is really personal with my (subscribed) readers, I don't want this to appear on my facebook page because I have to associate with those people in real life and I don't want them to know.

All my life, at least since I discovered EA Poe (in second grade!), I have wanted to be a writer;  the kind of writer whose words on paper will make the reader's blood run cold in terror.  I started a new blog for that kind of content.  There will be no witty, carefully structured commentary on popular culture or delightful anecdotes about my personal growth as I strive towards acceptance of my new life as a professional invalid.

I am calling that blog Samples, although I don't know why.  I hope that some of you will take a peek at it, although there isn't much there right now. This is a very personal anecdote I wrote for here, but didn't publish because of the personal nature of it; you may not want to read it.  If you do, it has plenty of warts and I am betting your thoughts would be very constructive.

Until then, this has been stuck in my head since last Thursday's 30 Rock.

Losing a Pet

Olivia, our black cat, got out of the house last night while I was asleep and got into a fight with another animal.  She walked into the house with a slight limp, but seemed fine otherwise.  She was much worse this morning and I carefully put her in her carrier to go to Best Friends Animal Hospital.

If the thunder don't get you, then the lighting will

Tomorrow is the second anniversary of my first hospitalization and since anniversaries are significant, I haven't been able to think of little else this weekend.  I have been grieving my old like, my pre-disability life horribly;  I miss bending over to get something out of the cabinets, walking in a straight line, etc.  Lately, when I think about those early days, I am gripped with horror.

Before CIDP,  I lived my life swinging from pollyanna to panic. I spent half of my life telling myself that I would be lucky and escape the tumult and turmoil others had.  When I wasn't telling myself that, I was paranoid, crippled with fear that the opposite would turn be true.

Excessively Moderate

This is Natasha when she was probably 6.
 I have waited  months to get this picture out of storage.

"Moderation in all things, including moderation."
            Petronius

Stressing

My stress test is tomorrow at 7:45.  I kinda think that the end result will be my doctors telling me to eat better and exercise more.  I still feel lazy if there is something I don't get done in a timely fashion.  Leaving things half done never bothered me before I got sick, ask Adrienne.

I am curious to see if I have lost any weight.  More on that later

Weighty Issues

Thanks to David for explaining it is called a Holter, after the person who invented it, not halter, like I thought.

Yesterday I ate 67% of my daily allotment of calories, if I was accurate in recording them.  Basically, I ate whatever I wanted to eat, provided I was willing to record it.  That extra step, the recording, really slows me down.

Further Updates

I dropped off the halter this morning, the n went home to take off the electrodes.  Ouch!  I told the young woman that was putting them on to shave me first and I guess she only half listened.

Oh well, half is better than none.

In other news, I now weigh 272 pounds, about 50 over a healthy weight, according to my doctor.  In order to help lose the weight, I got a calorie counting app for my to help.  I put in my present weight, then my ideal weight and pick a plan on how fast I want to lose the weight (I picked the most gradual), and the program does the rest.  As long as I am honest with my phone about what I eat and don't go over the limit, I should be at my ideal weight in about half a year.

This is going to be hard  because I really don't want to face my food addiction.

As of 10 am, I have eaten 24 % of my daily calories.

Confusion

This is one of those weeks where I have a health related appointment every day!

I complained about shortness of breathe at my checkup last week, so now I am getting a heart monitor thingy.

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Our visit from Mercedes

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Didn't see this one coming...

We joined a great, Methodist church yesterday.  We have been going for quite a while and regularly attend the Wednesday night suppers.  I am also going to check out a couple of Bible studies.  I am really looking forward to that.  I just need to find my Bible...

Once again, I had a crying fit during the service.  We sang "Come Ye Sinners Poor and Needy," a favorite of Natasha.  I remembered the sound her singing the chorus, "I will arise and go to Jesus, He will embrace me in His arms. In the arms of my dear Saviour, O, There are ten thousand charms."  She would repeat the last line, slowing it down, weighting each with with it's unique presentation, her voice always going upward on "ten thousand charms."  She sang it all the time when she was a child, at bedtime, on car trips, and she sang it to Mercedes.

"Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me does not welcome me but the one who sent me."  Mark 9:37

Let God be God

Let God be God

I saw this in a book at the mall today, in the introduction to a book called Erasing Hell, which describes itself as a book about "embracing a God who isn't always easy to understand."

It cheered me up to be reminded that, oh, yeah, sometimes I have to struggle (to understand).  That is what makes the rewards so sweet.

BTW, I am not endorsing this book, I have not read it and I don't know if I will.

He Leadeth Me

Sunday, January 8th, we had the pleasure of taking Natasha's daughter, my granddaughter, Mercedes to our new church in Statesboro.  She was very well-behaved and joined in the service to the best of her ability.  She stood when we stood and during the hymns, held hymnal open in front of her, just like the rest of us.  Wow, what a cute kid.  

Pink lightning

In a flash of pink lightning and a loud shreik, a naked, jumping Mercedes appeared at the foot of my bed, yelling "I am here Nana!"

I am sad to say that a cold has laid me low the last couple of days. Colds never used to stop me before, slow me down, sure, but never stop me. It makes me angry, then scared and finally sad to once again experience life from bed.

Especially now that Merecedes is here.  She is so funny and smart, too. The other night, while trying to put a puzzle together, she told me, "when you get frustrated, it is a good idea to take a break and do something else for a while,“ with a very straight face.  I felt soothed and calmed down immediately.

Am I such a basket case that my 3 and a half year old granddaughter needs to take care of me?

I have the name and number of a therapist, now I am just trying to find the courage to call him. I have to do it soon though.I am tired of feeling like this all the time.

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New Year

Fall Risk is going on hiatus.  Writing this blog is one of my favorite things to do, but I have a couple of time crunches that are interfering with my writing times.  I am not sure if that is a bad thing because the holidays are very difficult for me and I tend to be a bit of a buzz kill.

We are stuck between housing right now; we have one house that we can't move into and one house that we have to vacate very soon. This little apartment is already crammed full of moving boxes, but no definite date when the bank will let us move into the new place.  The present delay has to do with Bank of America LOSING some of the paperwork.   I won't bore you with the details, most of which I don't understand myself.

And also, my grand daughter is visiting us now.  She is a riot, but exhausting too.  Here is a video of the little angel, asleep in the car on the way home from the beach we went to on New Years Day.

Anyway, I hope I can get back to writing soon, it is always helpful and sometimes fun also.