I am so hungry and there is nothing within reach and the kitchen is closed.
It's a quarter to 10 at night and I just woke up after about a five hour nap. Danny has already gone to sleep. He is determined to leave the home on Friday and return to his apartment. I wonder how long it will take him to starve himself or not take his medicine until he dies. I think that is his plane. He has bone cancer and it is not going to get any better. Still, he gets up every morning, sometimes as early as a quarter to six. Not because he wants to, but just to please the therapists so they will sign off on his leaving. There is no legal reason that they can keep him. Maybe if his brother were to have him committed, but I don't think his brother would do that to him.
I could go for a pizza right now. A large double pepperoni, double mushroom pie from Pagliaci and a quart of cold milk sounds good. But I am broke until the end of the month. Today I had my last two wieners for brunch, and a biscuit an milk for lunch. Dinner was "Chicken Fried Rice and an Egg Roll." Once again it sounds better than it looked or tasted. the rice was a big mass of sticky rice that tasted like it had Campbell's Soup poored over it, and if I hadn't been told I never would have guessed that it was an eggroll on the plate instead of a deep-fried toilet paper roll fille with coleslaw. I skipped it and ate some stale cookies I left in my chair.
I probably fell asleep because my muscles were very tired from physical therapy. The O.T. was close to nonexistant today, but during physical therapy I wore 4lb. ankle weights while I worked out, then five times I stood up in the parallel bars. I was only able to stand for 20 seconds at a time, but considering I haven't stood in two months, it was an accomplishment. I will try to do even more tomorrow.
Nothing earth shattering in the news today. Mostly stuff about the economy and more lay offs; a little more about the Illinois Governor's Bribery scandal and how it has now tainted Jesse Jackson, Jr. Not much else. Nothing much to Slog about.
My friend Paul says that the package containing my Christmas presents were delivered "at the door." It didn't come to the home, so it must have gone to his houde and someone must have gifted themselves. Hopefully it will get sorted out, but it's the thought that counts. Wednesday he is treating me to lunch at Memo's Mexican Kitchen on Saturday. For all the times he has treated me I need to either take him somewhere nice (but casual and wheelchair friendly) but something I can afford. Maybe we'll go to Pazzo's on Eastlake (personal pizzas pictured above and at bottom) for some wood-fired Pizza and beer or maybe sushi at Red Fin Sushi. Probably not The Lunchbox Laboratory for gourmet hamburgers, which I want to save until my birthday (January 29). It sounds like kids are allowed so it might be a good place for my friends can bring their kids.
I am getting that sick feeling again. I saw Dr. Wilburn, my kidney doctor and he said I'm of good health (my creatinine is a little high and I am still a little anemic but in general I am pretty healthy).
That sick feeling I am referring to is the same feeling that I got sometime shortly after the Republican Convention. It was right after we got to meet Sarah Palin, John McCain's running mate. The concept of Sarah Palin being, literally, a heartbeat away from the Presidency gave me the willies. I hadn't been this scared and sure I was going to die since Ronald Reagan was president.
The few but seemingly endless weeks between the convention and the election was nerve racking. I took no comfort when the pundits were saying Barrack Obama was a shoo-in to be president (jinx!). And I got scared when the same pundits, including my favorite liberal, Rachel Maddow, were saying John McCain still had a good chance to pull a victory out of his ass. (Tell me it isn't so Rachel!)
For weeks I was tense and testy, was light headed and completely lost my appetite (I lost thirteen pounds during this time). I finally started feeling calmer once McCain lost Pennsylvania and Obama started picking up Red States. When Jon Stewart announced Obama was our new President-Elect, I was almost as emotional as Stephen Colbert, whose faux-Conservitive facade slipped briefly at his utter joy.
The honeymoon was not allowed to last. The Republicans said Obama had to govern from the center, that he did not have a mandate, despite the fact that Obama won more electoral college votes and a won by a larger margin the popular vote than George W. Bush did in 2004, when Bush had his "mandate."
Soon after, Obama started naming his financial team first (because the economy continues to circle down the drain) followed by his foreign policy team. Now the lefties and Obama supporters were upset because all of the appointees were all pretty centrist. Not a big "L" liberal in the bunch. My hunch is to wait until Obama announces his domestic team before passing judgment. It is pretty hard to find people experienced in government who haven't worked for either George Bush or Bill Clinton, but talking to a far-leftie is about as fruitful as talking with a right-winger. They both have unreasonable expectations of the world.
Two recent news stories are causing me great anxiety again. First the Supreme Court, particularly Justice Clarence Thomas was asked to hear a case that says Barrack Obama is not a real U.S. citizen and therefore not eligible to be President. The Supremes declined to hear this case, but they may listen to one of the other similar cases against Obama's presidency.
This reminds me of when Bill Clinton was elected President in 192, then Congressman Bob "B-1 (Bomber)" Dornan was calling for Clinton's impeachment because Clinton had visited Moscow when he was in college.
This just seems to be an endless game of "payback" going back to the impeachment of President Nixon (despite the fact it was members of Nixon's own party that asked him to resign) but mostly because of the well known controversies over the results of the 2000 election. Most of us, except the far lefties, got over the fact that it appeared that George Bush, with the help of his brother Jeb, the governor of Florida, Katherine Harris (the Florida Attorney General and Bush Campaign volunteer), and the Republican appointed Supreme Court, stole the 2000 Presidential election. Republicans called the Democrats "sore losers" but if that were true, then what is this?
Today a story broke about a corruption scandal involving the Governor of Illinois and Obama's vacated Senate seat. The governor, as corrupt a man as you'd ever meet, was trying to sell the vacated position to the highest bidder. There is no evidence that Obama is or was involved, quite the contrary. There appears to be evidence that Obama definitely wasn't involved, given that the Governor is on tape calling the President-Elect a "motherfucker." Though this isn't "Much Ado About Nothing," because it sure is something, the story gives aid and comfort to our enemies,( i.e. Limbaugh, Hannity, and Drudge).
I am afraid, once again, I will be a nervous wreck until Obama has taken the oath of office. As much as I have found 4:00 a.m. wake up calls, snooty nursing assistants, and the screams of dementia all around, I have been relatively calm of late. I stopped worrying so much about the future because I am convinced Obama is going to make things better. I feel confident that Medicare and Medicaid will be fully funded, that affordable or even free healthcare is on its way, granted it may take a few years. And my hope is that the money we spend on the war in Iraq will be diverted and spent on repairing the crumbling infrastructure, especially roads. Not just the Viaduct and the 520 bridge, but paving everyday roads. Try riding in the back of an ambulance or van on the freeway or on "Pill Hill" and tell me our roads don't need fixing.
Enough.
Well, I wound up in fifth place in my fantasy football league so I won't be going to the play offs. Had I been able to make changes on any of the three games I missed do to recovering from heart surgery, I would be in second place. But to be fair had my team won yesterday I would. in fact, be in fourth place and in the playoffs. C'est la vie. I will definitely play next year, if invited. I will try to be a part of baseball fantasy too, but with a 162 game schedule it will require a lot of work, but since it looks like I will be disabled indefinitely, I guess I have the time.
When I was just taking the Oxycontin and/or Oxycodone for chronic pain I was able to "maintain" and do my job, but now that I am also taking 10 mg of Dilaudid and it makes me tired and stoned all day. Not stoned as in the way I like to be stoned, it's like having a cold or the flu without the cough, chills or runny nose.
Oh, well. It's almost 7:00 p.m. and the nurse is anxious for me to go to bed. I don't know why it's any business of hers, but I am tired anyway and I am not going to stay up to spite her. Pick your battles.
I am reading up on podcasting and am hoping to add a monthly or weekly podcast of what music I am currently listening to. I have the software I just have to figure out how to compress it and put it online.
Finally I want to send a shout out to my cousin Dusty, who sent me a Christmas card, which I received today, who says she is reading my blog. Hi Dusty! How is your Mom?
Another shout out goes to my ex-boss and current-buddy Nancy, who also sent me a card. We need to get the gang together soon.
Wow. I really slept last night. I fell asleep around five at night, when I first started writing last night's post. I woke up sometime after 7:30 p.m. and added a quick ending, so I could extend my streak of consecutive days with a post, then went back to sleep until the usual 4:00 a.m. noise started.
I totally spaced that yesterday was Pearl Harbor day. This may be the first year that I wasn't reminded by television of that date. I usually can depend on AMC showing Tora, Tora, Tora (which I have here on DVD and which my father was an extra on when he was stationed in Hawaii), or ABC to show Pearl Harbor, or the History Channel showing some special. I didn't even seeing anything on the news about it yesterday.
Looking at yesterday's TV schedule I see that the History Channel did in fact show Tora, Tora, Tora: The True Story of Pearl Harbor, but it was up against the Seahawks/Patriots game and I got sucked into watching. First, because we have this ne HDTV in the lobby and the game looked really cool in HD. Second, as I said a couple days ago, I am part of a fantasy football league and if I won yesterday, and one of two teams tied for third loses, I make the playoffs. Right now it doesn't look good. I am ahead of all three teams in points, but all my players have played, and each of the three teams have players playing in tonight's Monday Night Football game. I'll let you know tomorrow. The game itself was very good. Matt Hasselback was out, and considering how well Seneca Wallace played, Matt can stay out. The Seahawks managed to lead most of the game until the Patriots kicked a field goal with more than five minutes left. The Patriots were ahead by three. The Seahawks had five minutes to to score the winning touchdown, or at least get within field goal range to tie the game. But Wallace, who had such a great game before, through an interception and the Patriots held on to win 24-21. Typical.
Not too much went on today. I ate a couple hot dogs for brunch and spent the last $2.75 cents in cash I had for a Carne Asada Taco and bottle of Coke at the Taco Truck in the parking lot. Tonight's dinner is ham and red potatoes, so it might be O.K. The filmy taste in my mouth is going away and I can taste again.
While I waited to do O.T. I played some NHL09. It was my second game and I lost again. It's a lot more complicated than the old Sega Genesis version, but still fun.
In P.T. I stood up (with the assistance of Tobey and Birgit) twice. It was real hard to get up. I couldn't do it without them. It's been two months since I stood and right now my shoulder is killing me from the weight I put on them.
I got the I.V. line taken out of my arm, since I don't need the antibiotics anymore. It's good to get that out.
It's only ten to five now and I'm pretty wiped. I need to stay awake long enough to watch Heroes at 9:00 p.m. According to TV Guide, next weeks episode is the season finale. Already? I hope, like TV series on cable, there are two seasons per year. Otherwise all I have to look forward to are Thursdays (The Office and 30 Rock).
In a little while I will ask the aide to come in to make sure I can get out of my chair and into my bed with little or no assistance. Fingers crossed.
I have been sleepy all day. I think I slept O.K. I don't really remember. I didn't have any caffeine today. That could be part of it. Even right now, as I type this, my arms feel very tired and I feel my face going numb, like when it does right before I fall asleep. It's not even 5:00 p.m. yet.
I, zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
And now it's 7:45 p.m. I dozed off and am still sleepy. If I wake up before midnight I'll come back and write something longer. Otherwise, see you tomorrow.
I don't have much to write about today. Nothing really happened. Maybe something will happen tomorrow. Tomorrow is Sunday, so except for 15 minutes of restorative therapy with Lamin, there really isn't much to do on Sunday here unless you like football.
For the first time in twenty years, since I had Seahawks season tickets and saw Steve Largent play his last game, my time tomorrow will, in fact, be dominated by watching football. You see, I belong to a fantasy football team organized by Stranger writer Jonah Spangenthal-Lee. In past years I wouldn't watch any games except Seahawks games, and only if they were ahead, and only after they won a couple games in a row. Most years I will watch the Super Bow, if someone is having a party. And I tend to watch it less for the game itself and more for the commercials. I try to avoid halftime altogether. When Janet Jackson had her wardrobe malfunction, I was in the other room eating dinner with my friends, enjoying a prime rib roast I cooked myself. In past years the Super Bowl has been played on or near my birthday so I have used the game as an excuse to get people together at a someone else's house. Last year I watched the game at the nursing home with a couple other people. The TV at the time was fucked up but big. The picture was fine but the sound was permanently stuck on SAP (Second Audio Program) so last year's game was entirely in Español. few days ago the home have a new Sharp 42" LCD HDTV. I will probably watch it here, but it is on the same day that I wanted to talk people into going out for my birthday. None of my friends have a wheelchair accessible house, so right now I have no idea what I am going to do.
Anyway, I had joined the fantasy football league because I didn't have anything better to do and I thought it might be a way of socializing; meet new people. But this group of ten team managers are not a social bunch, at least I haven't been invited to any get togethers.
My team is the Evergreen Stoners and my colors are forest green and snow white. I picture our uniforms looking very much like the NY Jets' except for the giant pot leafs on the helmet and sleeves. My starting team is this:
QB Tony Romo (Dallas) WR Randy Moss (New England) WR Andre Johnson (Houston) WR Hank Baskett (Philadelphia) RB Michael Turner (Atlanta) RB Matt Forte (Chicago) TE Zach Miller (Oakland) K Rob Bironas (Tennessee) DEF San Diego
Hank Baskett is the just the latest of the many under-performing third-string wide receivers I have utilized and Zach Miller replaced Kelen Wislow at Tight End when Winslow went on injured reserve for the season. San Diego is the third defense I've tried, beginning with a disastrous first couple games with the Seahawks. My home town loyalty was outweighed by my desire to win, and like thousands of other fantasy team managers I got rid of them ASAP.
Rookie Matt Forte has been a very welcome surprise at running back. He often accounts for a third of my points. Many of the other managers have offered trades for him, but the quality of the players they offer in exchange bordered on insulting. Forte's presence almost makes up the lackluster performance by Randy Moss, who started the season as the number one wide receiver in the league. It's not entirely his fault. New England quarterback, Tom Brady, got injured and went out for the season in the first game and Brady's replacement hardly ever throws the ball to Moss.
After tomorrow, the top four teams in the Slog's league advance to the playoffs next weekend, then the two winners of those games move on to the Championship game the weekend after that. There is no prize, just bragging rights (not anyone other than the ten of us, care). The Stoners, thru thirteen weeks, are 7-5-1 and currently in fifth place. For me to get into the post season, I have to win tomorrow and either The Slogaholics or the New Orleans Taints (the teams tied for third at 8-5) need to lose. Since they aren't playing each other or the top two teams, the stars have to align just right and I don't like my chances.
Had I not been laid up in the hospital recovering from heart surgery, I wouldn't have missed three consecutive Sundays to make the personnel changes necessary for me to win. Had I at least had my laptop with me, and the internet, I would have known Romo and Winslow were put on injured reserve and I could have arranged for my backups to start. I could probably have prevented the two losses and the tie and instead of being 7-5-1, I could easily be 10-3 and in first place. If I don't manage to make it into the post season, my season will be over. The Seahawks are so bad (not Husky bad, but almost Detroit Lions bad) I probably won't waste my time watching any more games, except the Super Bowl. I look forward to watching it on the new TV. It's very cool and I want one. If Amazon had it on sale for low enough, I've toyed with the idea of buying one next month, but it will probably have wait until I get out of here and into my new place (this is assuming I cash in my retirement).
I am also enamored with the new IPod Touch. One of the residents here, Dwight, was gifted one by his coworkers and he asked me to load it up with some tunes. It only has about 6-8GB of memory so it filled up pretty fast (I left him about a gigabyte of room). If I do buy one I'll get the 32GB version for about $140 more. I'm not seriously thinking of getting one, but it was very cool.
As usual, the Slog was pretty barren with the usual weekend fare this morning. An update on the Strangercrombie Auction to benefit Treehouse (if I had the money I would really love the Pizza Glutton Package). A book review, a recommendation for a play, a recommendation for an author reading their latest work, Barack Obama's weekly YouTube Address on, of course, the economy, and a rant by Dan Savage about a bad mother. Dan has many pet peeves. These include atrocities that heterosexual parents perform on their children (to disprove the assertion that heterosexual couples are more qualified to raise children), clergy who molest or have affairs with youths under their charges and Christians in general doing something illegal or immoral (to disprove the assertion that people of faith or less depraved than the homosexuals they condemn), pit bulls and their owners (I don't know why, except they are pit bulls and they are scary...they are the Humvee of dogs), and most recently, KOMOTV reporter Marlee Ginter (because of her biased expose on a Seattle sex club) and the Daily, the University of Washington's student newspaper, (for writer John Fay's incredibly insensitive and ill-timed opinion peace in favor of California's ban on same sex marriage, comparing it to bestiality). I agree with Dan on these points. Same sex parents can be as loving as some, and more loving than other heterosexual parents and should be allowed to adopt. People who claim to have faith and rail against anything that seems to demean "family values" often don't practice what they preach. Child molesters are, by far, more likely to be heterosexual. Same sex marriage (what I call "marriage equity" because it sounds less gay) can not be argued against without bringing God into the conversation, and this being America, religious beliefs have no business influencing laws. Pit bulls are scary and I personally I would prefer the breed become extinct. Marlee Ginter is a terrible reporter and possibly a terrible human being (at least she seems to be highly suppressed, sexually). And The Daily is a terrible student newspaper that is poorly written and often has to stoop to creating a controversy just so people are reminded that that stack of unread newspapers are about (this is true of almost every student newspaper in the world). This all true, but their are days where Dan will really beat these subjects into the ground so that there is so much bad news it's hard to find your smile the rest of the day. It also drags the tone of comments down to the point that it is nearly impossible to express an opinion, or a dissenting voice that it is impossible to escape without being personally attacked. Somedays it's so bad you would think you were on the usenet (alt.rec.suckmydickasshole).
All this writing and I haven't said what I did today. It's Saturday, so not much. As planned I had coffee with Doyle and we hung out for about 90 minutes. Hopefully we'll get together once more before Christmas.
I finally got NHL09. I set the game up and went through the training mode twice (I think the last version I played was NHL93 for the Sega Genesis). I then played a quick game as Toronto hosting the Ottawa Senators. The Maple Leafs (me) lost 4-2 but it was a lot of fun. It's a nice change of pace from shooting Japanese soldiers in the face. I worked out with Lamin in the therapy department, we talked about nothing in particular.
While working with Lamin I had the opportunity to say goodbye to Beck, the occupational therapist/temp that I've been working with off and on since Mira left. Today was her last day. Beck has a preference to working with children so will be moving on to a pediatric center somewhere. I didn't get to know her well but I will miss her.
And now here I am laying in bed with not much to write about. Maybe something will happen tomorrow.
Today was most uneventful although it was pretty full. Besides the daily 4:00 a.m wake up by Crazy Alice:
Crazy Alice: Help! There's a man in my room. I'm gonna to get ma gun!
Phlebotomist: Ma'am, we go through this every week. I'm Chico. I'm from Paclab. I'm the phlebotomist. I've come to get some blood.
Crazy Alice: You're gonna get my blood? Get away from me vampire! I've got me silver bullets!
Before I could warn Crazy Alice that silver bullets only work on werewolves, and not vampires, Madeline, a stern but very nice nurse from Ghana came into Crazy Alice (and Alice's room and started scolding Crazy Alice. Madeline asked Crazy Alice what her name was, when was her birth date, and where did she think she was, and on and on, and suddenly it was 5:30 a.m. and Mr. S., whose room shares a bathroom with the room I share with Danny, started hacking up something. It sounded like he was trying to tear a phone book in half a few pages at a time. Then he turned on his TV, loud, because he's deaf, and I never managed to fall asleep. The sound of KIRO's cheery morning news crew pleasantly recounted some story about a car crash and fatalities. Oh, well.
Danny seems to be a little cheerier today. He is resigned that he will have to stay here at least a week. I think I calmed him down. I still worry that when he gets out that he will off himself. I don't know how much responsibility I have. Should I try to stop him by telling a nurse? I did talk to a friend of his and she thinks the same thing. She is closer to him so I will leave it up to her. She is going to talk to Danny's brother about it before he leaves in a one week business trip up to Alaska. She and I suspect he already knows how Danny is feeling. I have always thought that someone in Danny's state, that is, terminally ill and in great pain and all, should be able to leave this world any way they want to, but there is this tiny part of me that has been influenced by Christians, Muslims, and (I think) Hindus who say that suicide is a sin. That suicide is the one sure way not to get into "heaven." Oh, well.
I worked with yet another new occupational therapist. She is nice but like the one I have been working with this past week, only a temp. We worked on some new stuff that should strengthen some back muscles. I will add it to my daily routine. I tried to move up from the six pound weights to the sevens, but that extra pound almost killed me. I'll stick with the sixes until they feel like nothing.
The therapy department (in actuality it is a separate company owned by a different Mormon family than the Mormon family that owns the nursing home...fucking Mormons) has hired one new O.T. person, but I made a lousy first impression the other day when she came in our toom for Danny and I said "Jesus Fucking Christ! It's 6:30 in the morning!" When she saw me today she just frowned. I don't think she wants to work with me. Oh, well. I guess it will be someone new next week.
It's pretty wierd that in a 30 day span the therapy department has lost two (out of five) physical therapists and three out of five occupational therapists, including, Mira, the boss. And all of them work have worked with me. Oh, well. At least Tobey and Z (Mohammed Zahir), two physical therapist assistants, are still here to work with me. They are both very cool and under different circumstances I could see us hanging out and watching a movie. If I ever walk again, maybe I'll buy a motorcycle and go on a short road trip with them. This wouldn't feel like such a waste of time if I got a couple friends out of here (no matter how unrealistic that might be).
After I was done with the occupational (upper body) part of therapy. I watched the verdict O. J. Simpson robbery trial. Guilty on eight counts for 15-33 years, out in 9 if he behaves. He will be at least 70 when he gets out. ESPN says the prison he is going to is the home of a large concentration of the Aryan Warriors, so he needs to watch his ass! I don't take any personal pleasure at O. J.'s going to prison for this. But I hope the Brown and Goldman families find some peace. It might not be justice, exactly, but it is something.
After the verdict I took almost the rest of my money and spent it on groceries. I bought a loaf of white bread. I hoped it would be fluffy but it's a tad mealy. Did Wonder Bread and Home Pride go out of business? Sometimes I want something with no nutritional value but nice texture). Oh, well. I also bought some Oscar Meyer Weiners, some Miracle Whip, and some paprika and black pepper.
When I got back to the home I immediately steamed two hot dogs in the microwave served it on white bread with Miracle Whip. It was great It was the first Miracle Whip I've had in 15 months. A sandwich just isn't a sandwich without the TANGY ZIP of Miracle Whip!
I told the kitchen all I wanted for dinner was four hard-boiled eggs. I chopped them up, added the Miracle Whip, some French's Mustard, paprika and black pepper and had two egg salad sandwiches for dinner. I have no illusions that my version of egg salad, the way my mother taught me, would horrify Alton Brown (his description of the wrong way to make Macaroni and Cheese is also the way my mother taught me) but I loved it. The bacteria still makes what I eat or drink taste like crap. But that tangy albino goodness cut right through the crud and I was happy.
Afterward I worked with Bridget in physical therapy. We worked on transfers and I am going to stop using the Hoyer Lift on Sunday, and start using the sliding board to transfer into my chair Monday morning. Bridget is one of the people who is quitting the nursing home to go off to do bigger and better things. I am fortunate that I will get to work with her for two more weeks, but I will really be sad to see her go. Oh, well.
I found out two more people died in the past couple days, including the person who has my old bed, the one I had for almost a year until I had my heart attack. I could probably move back but a) I finally have most of my stuff put away. And b) a guy fucking died in my old bed. One of the nurses said the guy was so quiet he might have been dead ween the ambulance brought him to the nursing home, he died that soon after he arrived.
I got two big envelopes from the UW today and am scared to open them. I will wait at least until Sunday. I m meeting my friend Paul tomorrow for coffee and he will be bringing me a couple weeks worth of mail. I'll add it the pile of mail he brought me the last two times I saw him and finally go through it Sunday afternoon, saving the UW stuff for last. The envelopes are heavy and they are big. The postage between the two was almost ten bucks. I just hope they don't make me take all of my retirement money now. Unless I can spend it so fast that Medicaid doesn't notice and stop paying my rent here, the nursing home will jack up my "participation fee" and take it all. I have been giving the home all but $50 of my monthly $1700 disability check, and Medicaid picks up the rest. Someone just paying out of pocket gets charged $6,000 a month for an uncomfortable bed, a roommate they may loathe, three bland meals a day, recreational activities for the aged and mentally stunted, and cable TV (until Feb. 17, 2009, when all of America switches to digital, and since the residents don't have cable boxes, the residents are going to lose their fucking minds...what's left of them). Oh, well.
There is not much to look forward to this weekend except coffee with Paul in about 12 hours, a couple 15 minute restorative sessions with Lamin in the afternoons, and watch the remake of 3:10 to Yuma, which I borrowed from Toby. I might play some more Call Of Duty (I am still waiting for NHL09 to show up).
There won't be much Slogging until Monday morning, beginning with Monday's "Morning News." I am hoping that President-Elect Obama will announce his Domestic cabinet next week (Secretary of the Interior, Head of the E.P.A., Secretary of Education, etc.) and that the liberals will finally get the kind of people they've been hopeing for. As much as the far lefties are concerned (I'm a liberal but some people are just "out there") Obama has already "sold out." "Same boss as the old boss," is a familiar refrain in Slog comments. But the far right is just as bad. I got stuck behind an auto mechanic at the Coffee Shack (out in the parking lot) who was saying that he was stocking up on ammo because he thought Obama was going to make it impossible for private citizens to buy ammunition. He also is stocking up on food and water because he anticipates all those laid off people (you know the ones from WaMu, Safeco, Macy's, etc.) will start looting and raping any day now. Jesus Fucking Christ! Oh, well.
I just woke up after a nap after I got back from the doctor. I am O.K. (as O.K. as I was before). The doctor said the reason I feel like crap and why everything tastes like crap is the antibiotics I am on have actually created a bacteria in my mouth. All I have to do is stop taking the antibiotics and suck on some lozenges three times a day. It would be nice if I can taste food again. There is a Mexican restaurant on the Ave, Memo's, that I want to go to and my birthday is coming up at the end of January (29th).
I received an email from my friend Marianne today. We worked together at the University of Washington's Chemistry Department. Marianne is really into cats. She volunteers with a cat clinic and PAWS, or someplace similar, that sets up cat adoption and is a foster mother to 7-10 cats. She is not a "cat lady" she is a cat person. She just really likes cats and she really likes placing cats in good homes.
We used to have a cat. The home that is. When I arrived at the nursing center 13 months ago the home had an old orange cat named Mrs. Beasely (pictured above). Feel free to use the comments to tell me if I am right or wrong, but I think she was an orange tabby or an Angora. I just know she was orange and she had really long fur, which shed like crazy, which is why I didn't pet her very much until most of her hair was shaved off last spring. I love cats but am allergic to long haired cats (short haired cats, not so much). I had a friend named Julie who had a cat named Princess, and a terrier named Sissy, who would immediately crawl on top of me, Sissy on my lap, and Princess up on my shoulder. It was nice. I also had a friend named Petra whose one-eyed cat, The General, used to lick my bald head whenever I shaved it. I was salty, I guess. I love animals, mostly, and they love me too, mostly.
I say Mrs. Beasely was the home's cat, because sometime last August she disappeared. Since she was at least 15 years old (probably older) my guess is that she crawled off to die somewhere. I know she had medical issues. She was in the hospital almost as much as she was at the home. A few years ago, I used to live with a couple who had two very old cats and both of them (the cats), at different times, crawled off to a quiet place to die (the basement).
Most people agreed that Mrs. Beasely too probably found a quiet place to pass away. Some thought maybe raccoons got at her (residents and staff have seen raccoons around here). One crazy staff member was convinced my then-roommate Eddie (who someday I will write a book about) ate Mrs. Beasley. Not killed. Not stolen away and left somewhere as a stray, but actually ate the cat. There is a lot of bad things people said about Eddie, some of them true, but a cat eater he wasn't. Not even a cat killer.
Anyway, people missed Mrs. Beasely so I offered to contact Marianne to see if we could get a new cat. After many weeks of debate they agreed and Marianne and our friend/coworker Tracy brought us a new cat. I don't remember its name, and barely remember what it looked like because they kept it locked in the Recreation Department office (a room a little bigger than a broom closet that two people shared with the cat). I wasn't there but they finally brought the cat out and it "scratched" a patient so it couldn't be the nursing home's cat. I don't know what happened with the cat. I don't know if they gave it back to Marianne or if one of the recreation people adopted it (they all said they loved it). Either way, the home is currently, and for the time being cat-less. (Though the home did get a new widescreen TV for the lobby).
You can only imagine how much a cat or dog cheers up the cheerless. People who seem to be in a vegetative state suddenly brighten up around a pet. It's like in Yellow Submarine when the Beatles are singing "All You Need Is Love" (or "Baby Your A Rich Man," I forget which) that as John Lennon waves his magic baton formerly black and white people burst into colors. There frowns turned upside down. Occasionally someone will bring in a dog. Sometimes it's a family member bringing in their Corgi or Yorkshire Terrier to visit a family member, and once a month, someone from "pet therapy" will bring in their yellow lab around for a visit.
I would like a dog, maybe a cat, but I'd rather have a dog. It's a lot of responsibility and right now I can't even take care of myself. And looking for a handicapped apartment is hard enough without looking for a place that takes pets too. If I could have a dog, any dog, I would probably want a long-haired Chihuahua. I had one (actually two) when I was very little. The first one, Taco, was black and brown and I got him when I was four years old. He died when my house burned down when I was in the third grade. I am still upset about it. I loved Taco. Apparently when I was observing the burnt remains of our house with my Mother (my Father was flying home from Vietnam for four weeks hardship leave) I asked her what happened to my dog. A reporter who was there, or his editor at The Daily Olympian, thought it would be a funnier human interest story if I said "Mommy, what happened to the TV?" I still want to punch that fucking reporter in the face, even he is probably in his seventies now.
The second long-haired Chihuahua that I had was white and her name was Harriet, named after a Navy friend of my Mom and Dad's, Harry (somebody..I just remember he was a very nice guy and drove a brand new green and black Mach 1 Mustang). I loved her too, Harriet. Maybe even as much as Taco. She was as much my Mom's dog as she was mine. We were living in a trailer at the time on our property in Little Rock, WA (about 15 miles south of Tumwater) while our house was being rebuilt. ur house was at the end of a quarter-mile driveway, which was at the end of a mile long dirt road that had two farms and one other house on it.
One day my Mom was coming up the driveway. Harriet always knew before anyone else that a car was coming up the drive, and I don't know how, but she could tell my Mom's car from every other car. Harriet bolted out the screen door and ran out to meet my mother. Well...you can guess how it ended and you would probably be right.
I've had a few dogs since then, the last one was almost 20 years ago, and though I loved them, I will always have a special place in my heart for Taco and Harriet.
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