HAPPY EASTER MONDAY!

We spent the long weekend toiling in the garden ( we are officially the tulip envy of the neighborhoood - PREEN! ), donating hours to a local professional theater that desperately needs non-prof bucks, and watching a batch of lame (and not in a good way) movies, all of mr. zippy's picking:

The Forgotten - what was with this flick??? it taxied down the runway but never took off, in spite of a stellar cast and a fun deus ex machina that ripped unwanted characters right from before our eyes! Although, I must admit, I expected the sci fi ending to come as a surprise based on everything I'd been told about this one, but it was the same sci fi thread throughout. Lame. 2 MOYAS - for the acting and that giant sucking machine.

The Village - this movie should have been made for television. And someone else should have either a) written it or b) directed it. M. Knight doesn't have the clarity to do both w/ his own work. He had it in his first film, The Sixth Sense, but not since. Even Shattered had more clarity than this one. And anyone who didn't see the ending coming from a mile away just wasn't paying attention. Lame.

Open Water - this was actually better than I anticipated. the longer the film goes on, the less that happens, and it makes complete and total sense and leaves me feeling like I've just watched one of the most depressing films ever made. My kinda flick ;-) 3 Moyas.

What the Bleep Do We Know? - I like Ebert's review and agree w/ it but for the part about the blonde w/ bright blue eyes. mr. zippy and I agreed supper with that woman would be an INTENSE experience - me quite curious, him wanting to run screaming from the room. There are two threads to this film, and it's rather difficult to call it a 'film" as it's more a documentary that will likely be shown in college classrooms for years to come (and is hard to imagine how it got a theatrical release at all). The Marlee Matlin moments, not so good. But the documentary moments, really engaging. 2.5 Moyas.


Beyond that, I sent mr. zippy on an Easter egg hunt and no, none were snatched up in my vagina, and yes, it was a full dozen of Easter appropriate love-me-nots like, "You're my own personal Jesus" and "I'd stop the world and melt with you" and "you're my creamy colon."

let me 'splain that last one

the one reason we Ugly Americans ought to be happy the Japanese did not win the war was such delicacies as mmmmmmmm Creamy Colon candy! shaped in the form of a human colon, and filled with your CHOICE of vanilla OR chocolate cream. yummmmmmmmmmmmm. squid flavored crackers aside, I think I want my fill of vanilla creamy colons although I'd have to be pretty drunk to enjoy the chocolate. that one might just be too much to bear.

Good news for everyone who loves bad news!

(I'm kidding)

my doctor ACTUALLY RANG ME LAST NIGHT!!! I'd left her the message around noon about the pharmacy debacle and it took her all day and a call after hours but SHE DID IT! She called me back! might have something to do w/ the fact that I COULD DIE w/out proper medication.

She filed a complaint against the pharmacy even as we were on the phone; filed a request for me to meet the pharmacy director to hash out my complaints and apologized for not knowing better. chalk it up as a learning experience for all involved.

oh, and she called in the script for the long acting insulin that i'll need to get me through until my pump supplies arrive. THANK GOD as I began the 2 hr injections last night and let me assure you, it ain't fun and it ain't restful.

now, I need to go through all my magazines from this last month and pick the ones for the VA. hospitalized veterans need good reading materials too. think about that next time you're throwing out your own used subscriptions.

hooooo boy, it's been a long month.

after three months of going through the system the way i'm supposed to but to no avail, I finally managed to get my VA doc to renew a script for something I use w/ my insulin pump. but because i was on my last one, I NEEDED to get the new script ASAP so she said SURE! COME ON IN AND GET IT! so, that evening, I rang the pharmacy inquiring if I could pick it up the next day (Saturday) and they said SURE! COME ON IN AND GET IT! so, Saturday afternoon i head over there, wait in line only to be told OH, WE NEVER KEEP THOSE ON HAND - WE'LL HAVE TO ORDER IT! AIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! after being told they had no control over what my doctor tells me (ISN'T THAT SMART AND FUNNY????), i marched myself into the nearest bathroom, FURIOUS, and broke down into tears. i just sobbed.

once I got it together, although still thoroughly pissed off but able to control myself, i went to the emergency room and waited for them to give me insulin and syringes as that's what I'll have to resort to doing (shots every other hour) once the link I have currently attached runs out. FOUR HOURS LATER I gave up. I walked out w/ nothing more than a bad attitude.

the only positive thing about the entire afternoon spent at the VA was meeting three lovely children w/ their (veteran) grandparents who'd recently adopted them after some trauma w/ their mother left them in foster care in Ohio. I was also able to assist a man who CLEARLY was in agony and being unassisted. When his daughter finally arrived on the scene, he'd been there just as long as i had and was literally trembling every time he tried to move. it took her all of two seconds w/ her hands on her hips to get him some much needed help. And that's when I left.

the VA has one doctor on call in the ER - one doctor, ever. I left after four hours but not before encouraging every single person there to write to their congress representatives AS EACH OF YOU SHOULD TOO! especially if you know a veteran who must depend on the VA for their healthcare.

And today when inquiring of getting an HIV test, I'm told I can't w/out meeting my doctor. The same woman who failed to return my HELLO I'M SELF MUTILATING call for three days. The same woman who failed to return my HELLO CAN YOU PLEASE GIVE ME THE RESULTS OF MY PULMINORY TESTING LIKE YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD call for three Weeks. three fucking weeks.

three days, that I hate to see arrive..

threeeee days, that I, hate to be alive....

threeeee-eeeee-- days, filled with pain and sorrow....

yesterday
today
and
tomorrrow


(thank you willie nelson)

I put Huggy on the train Saturday night after a pleasant week of watching movies, visiting the chiropractor and having massage. Overall, i think it was a good trip for him to have made. He thinks he cried too many tears, but TRUST ME, it's been far worse in the past. Sunday morning came too early. Both mr. zippy and I woke up exhausted. Sunday afternoon I left for Orlando, for my friend's funeral. Her entire family was there. It's been thirteen years or more since I've seen most of them. It was a lovely service. Her daughter Jackie, the very minister who presided over my own mother's second wedding, read letters from each of Em's children, grandchildren and friends, remembering that marvelous old woman with not a little bit of laughter, and not a few tears. There was a choir that I found quite touching, as Em's true passion had always been music (she'd been offered a slot w/ the Metropolitan Opera as a young woman but chose instead to marry the love of her life and raise seven children around the world as an Air Force wife), and as she grew older choral music became her particular favorite. Another daughter, a very successful romance novelist, read scriptures in an impossibly bright red chapeau. Jackie gave me a great hug, even though I wasn't expected there and the last time we were all together was at my own mother's passing. We have to stop meeting like this. One of the bereaved relatives whom I do not know (a son-in-law I think) CLEARLY K-K-KUNTRY took it upon himself to glare at me more intensely each time he passed my anti-dubya bumper sticker (that rests in my back window, taped to the inside so no one can malign it). We were all waiting to start the procession to the cemetary. He happened to be parked next to me. Every time I looked in his direction his scowl deepened and the mood grew so much darker than the celebration of Em's life called for. Knowing how death tends to bring out the worst in people, I grew increasingly uncomfortable with the thought I might be mugged by this man as soon as the first shovel of dirt was landed on the casket. I scooted out of there before that could happen.

On my way home, just as I was pulling out of a gas station before getting on the turnpike, I kid you not, I hit a pedestrian on a bicycle. I looked right, then left, but failed to look back again and there she was. as I was trying to cross three lanes of a parkway to get to the other side to go in the right direction, when I didn't see anyone the first time I looked, I concentrated on crossing traffic and didn't even think to look back again. I hit her hard enough to knock her across two lanes of traffic. THANK GOD traffic had slowed when this happened otherwise she would have been killed, easily. as it was, she was clearly hurt and I had to stop traffic myself from trying to get around us (rather than stop to help as a world full of good samaritans would, but who am I KIDDING???).

she was dazed and bleeding, but alert to the full extent when the fire dept. checked her and she refused further medical help from them. I begged her to let me take her myself if she didn't want the cops to take her, but she refused.

the fire dept. guy thought she was hopped up on something. I dunno. the brakes on her bicycle were broken and that may be why she wasn't able to stop when she saw me pulling out, but she wasn't even aware they weren't connected. the bike was very tattered, and she said she bought it in a pawn shop and knew nothing about bikes.

it was a horrifying experience but I do, so humbly, thank the lord for not allowing it to be worse.

I wish she would have allowed the hospital to do a thorough examination, but she refused. she refused me, the fire dept., the ambulance, the sheriff and the highway patrol. 9-1-1 has the voice recording of me begging and her declining.

I drove as far as the state line and quit for the night. checked into a cheap but clean hotel, took a long hot shower, wanted to cry but couldn't. it's somehow easy to think she was high as a kite, or perhaps had some criminal charge awaiting her capture, and that's why she walked away, but it did not prevent the nightmare I dreamed of her dying. what if she wasn't high, wasn't a criminal, but was mentally ill? what if she was only crazy enough to be certifiable but not enough to be committed? what if she was huggy?

this morning I simply refused to believe that there was anything else I could do - that I did, indeed, do all that I could to make it right. Even the police refused to file a report because she left the scene. "But I HIT HER! What if she has to be seen in emergency later?" They washed their hands of it, and advised me to do the same. Sounds reasonable, right?

boy, it's been a long day.

huggy is still here, but that's been ok.

this morning began w/ a growth on my dog's butt. waiting to see the vet, an older dog is brought in that needs to be put down. doggie zippy and i get into our own private room right next door to the real drama and I burst open the waterworks. it all hits too close to home. of course, i feel rather pathetic when it turns out my doggie's own drama is nothing more than a really ripe zit.

then we came home to huggy, stable but crazy, crazy but stable...

how ironic is it when your mentally ill brother tells you he's going through his middle-aged crazy?

I could form a list of inappropriate conversations in zippy's world right now but I won't.

this afternoon I found out a old, dear friend has passed away. i will be driving to Orlando on Sunday night for the funeral on Monday afternoon. hopefully, return by Tuesday in time for my 2pm class.

but then I had to tell huggy, who also knew the deceased. it was either that or wait for him to get back on his own to tell him and what kind of person would do that????

my mother.

when my aunt erva died, my mother chose not to tell my brother in the Navy as he was at sea and she wanted to wait to tell him in person. four months later. aunt erva was my brother's favorite aunt. they were close. it did not go over well when he finally heard the news.

oh boy.

I do not like being in Florida. but I WILL BE IN Florida for this friend's funeral. her daughter precided over my mother's second wedding ceremony. she and her husband helped us celebrate my mother's life when cancer took it from us. her husband remembered that celebration fondly this evening on the phone.

and then my sister-in-law rang to inquire about my father's family history as she'd received a slew of phone calls inquiring about her last name as it isn't a "common' last name and the callers want to know if we're all related.

this is my father's family crawling out of the wood work.

my sister-in-law wasn't sure why her husband and his siblings are so adamant about not opening those doors, but when your story begins at your father's funeral w/ your uncle telling your mother to get out of her house so that he and his family could move into it because "that was my brother's property" and it only goes downhill from there... what more is there to say?

and huggy did not handle that phone call well, either, although he never spoke to our sister-in-law, only overheard my side of the conversation.

"BECAUSE THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS WON"T EVER TAKE ANOTHER GOD DAMNED THING FROM THIS FAMILY AGAIN!!!!"

thankfully, mr. zippy came home just in time to break huggy's escalating ire ... and to pull the chicken out of the oven that I had forgotten once engrossed in conversation.

tomorrow, the plan is to go kite flying before getting huggy on the train back home.

fingers crossed.

Huggy will be here in about an hour.

In the meantime, I thought I'd update the universe on my own mental health.

The fog lifted - seemingly literally - as I cleaned the house. That's the metaphor, in case you didn't notice. As I was clearing out crap from the office in prep for huggy's stay (we have a day bed in here where he will sleep), i noticed how positively GOOD I felt. GOOD!!!!! It was the first time I'd actually felt GOOOOOOOD about anything I've done in over a year. dust particles and dog hair OUT! OUT! DAMNED SPOTS! And it's not as though I haven't cleaned my house in the last year, but this was different for me. Like a real love affair with cleaning - cleaning products, cleaning cloths, clean surfaces. I could have masturbated and not felt so good. but mr. zippy might have found that peculiar, all things considered.

Then Sunday as I took the doggies for their walk ... 2 miles that I normally take them on, one single leash the two share, so that's just shy of 100 lbs on one leash w/ two tethers that haul my ass through my old, settled neighborhood and it occured to me as I was walking how GOOOD I FELT!

Although I was reluctant to do so, I turned to mr. zippy and said, "I think I have my mind back."

I was afraid I may be jumping the gun, but now not so much. the feeling is staying. my mind really seems clear and my body more willing to go along with what my brain urges it to do.

I apologized to mr. zippy, for I know it hasn't been easy living with me through this.

we took an extra .5 mile through a part of the neighborhood we don't normally take and I thought I'd take it from now on, add that extra half mile to the routine. the dogs didn't seem to mind. and I was no worse for it, god knows.

mr. zippy gave me a snuggle and smooch and I know he's happier already.

as am I.

This may come as quite the shock to those of you in the know, but I'm bringing Huggy to town next week. seriously. it's a pre-emptive strike against the next phase of annual spring drama. maybe he'll have such a good time here that he'll forget all about exploiting my bleeding heart and crying a river 'cause his mama died a dozen years ago. who knows? maybe our other brother will even find it in his heart to call on Huggy's birthday.

mr. zippy is for it, else it wouldn't happen, of course. the only law he's set down is 'tell your brother not to drink all my expensive scotch.'

that's easy.

but it's Huggy's birthday, and his mama did celebrate her birthday w/ him every year of his life until the week she died (just six day short of her 49th, seven days short of his 31st).

and it was cheaper to bring him here than it was for me to go there.

I've asked my gourmet neighbor to come up w/ a sugar-free but delicious birthday cake for him. then i told her not to bother that I'd whip together a mousse instead. depending on how many folks want to participate, we'll be taking him out on the town or grill in my back yard. I expect a drive into the mountains but nothing any more fancy than that throughout his stay here.

so, who's up for supper?

You all know exactly how this feels!