I haven't seen my family since before Katrina.  The last time I was home was to bring my mother's ashes home with me.  That was three and a half years ago.  Today I started the ball rolling.  I'm going home and will be staying a full month. 

When I called my sister to consult her about viable dates, we both cried.  Tomorrow I'll be calling my oldest brother -- I'm sure there will be more tears -- certainly on my end.  No, my jackass brother won't be informed -- it's best for everyone.  Together, he and I are toxic.  No matter how forgiving and open I try to be, in his perpetual drunken state, he's hateful towards me.  It is what it is and I can accept that.

I'm sitting here staring at the cursor blinking and wondering what more I can say.  What I feel inside I have no words for.  All I can think of is ...

I'm going home.

Sunday fun with free association ...

"Rules are, there are no rules." There are no right or wrong answers. Don't limit yourself to one word responses; just say any crazy, deranged thing that pops into your head.  Have fun with it!

1. Nutritious :: food minus the yummy
2. Graduate :: "Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me ... aren't you? "
3. Tonight! :: Phil Collins - In The Air Tonight
4. Located :: Where yat?, GPS
5. Weapon :: the wife or mother "look" -- the one that makes a man want to duck or whimper with fear
6. Jumper :: rabbit --> Thumper, cables, hurdles, one who jumps to conclusions
7. Collectibles :: clutter, dust catchers, momentos, shoes and purses, Happy Bunny-wear
8. Dennis :: the Menace, Leary
9. Hostile :: territory, natives, witness
10. Vivid :: clearly, detailed

Mutterings courtesy of LunaNina.  You can mutter there or mutter in my comments.  Enjoy!

I've been meaning to write about this when it first happened.  I don't know why I put it off.  Today I received a phone call that reminded of the incident which seems the perfect time to finally post it.

I've witnessed many things that I thought could be called miraculous.  Many were things that happened to me while I was active in Narcotic Anonymous.  Like my impending twenty-year prison sentence being dismissed before I even had to go to court.  I heard the news, I was at work.  I dropped to my knees and cried.  I'm still clean -- 17 years 6 months 5 days.  Although I no longer attend Narcotics Anonymous meetings, I still follow the principles and I am still in contact with many recovering addicts.

Today I received a call from DA to tell me how much she appreciated what I had taught her.  I couldn't imagine what she was referring to since I hadn't seen DA in a dogs age, at least.  That's when she reminded me of the talk we once had and "the medallion".

Sixteen years ago, I was sponsoring a young girl.  I met her at a meeting when she was still in a halfway house.  She liked what I had to say and saw something in me she wanted to emulate -- basically, she liked my recovery -- so she asked me to sponsor her.  I agreed.  When she had two years clean I gave her a special silver and gold medallion with the roman number II on it -- sample here.  The design has changed some.  Back in those days, the lettering was smaller and there was room to have the medallion personalized.  On the medallion I had engraved my initials (FC), my sponsor's initials (EP), her sponsor's initials (LP) and her sponsor's initials (DA) ... four women all in the same sponsorship line with an approximate 50 years of combined recovery.  I wanted my sponsee to see that recovery works.  I wanted her to know that she could go to any one of those women (in essence, her grand-sponsor, great grand-sponsor and great great grand-sponsor) if she needed a ear or a shoulder and especially if she wasn't getting what she needed from me.

Through the years, several of us have relapsed -- CR -- who was the young girl I sponsored, EP -- my sponsor and DA, my great grand-sponsor.  EP is still using -- she says, "because I want to".  CR returned to recovery but DA bounced in and out of recovery.  One night at a meeting I hugged her and told her that I had faith in her -- that I knew she could do it.  She said she was going to try but that she was skeptical.  "Have you ever seen anyone relapse and come back to accumulate any kind of clean time?"  "Yes," I said, "me."  I had relapsed at nine years clean, stayed loaded for several years and by the time we had that discussion, I had five years clean again.  DA continued to bounce in and out of recovery for years.

Last month, DA celebrated two years clean!  A whole two years.  Quite remarkable for someone who's been in the revolving door of active addiction for about ten years.  CR, who used to be at the bottom of the sponsorship line, now has more recovery than DA and is sponsoring her.  On the night that DA was going to a meeting to be recognized for two years clean, CR called me.  Crying, she told me that she still had the medallion and would be giving it to DA at the meeting that evening.  The same medallion that had DA's initials on it when she was at the top of the sponsorship line.  Then I cried -- it made me so proud of them both.

It's amazing -- a gesture of faith, a kind word, a gentle hug -- these things affect people and it stays with them for years to come. DA was the woman who hugged me, loved me when I was no longer lovable and gave me faith when I was crawling out of the gutter ... gave me kindness freely and graciously ... later on, because of the gifts she gave me, I was able to share them with her.  Now, seventeen years later we've come full circle.  We may have changed places in the sponsorship line but one thing will never change -- the love between women bound together by the same struggle and the same triumph, one day at a time.

Often when I vent, it becomes a draft -- not today.

Before you walk back through that door, I hope it isn't too hard for you to wipe me off the bottom of your shoe.  Just because I wasn't able to dodge the sole of your cruelty as it came down on my heart, doesn't mean I'm willing to be your doormat.  I have loved you for years and yet you still haven't learned that when you hurt me, you're only hurting yourself.

Your words kill my love for you in bits.  You fling your cruelty at me but it's like swinging at the specks of dust floating in a lone shaft of sunshine.  You can't destroy me, you can only "disturb" me before I being to float in a me-like pattern again.  The mean-you has become commonplace -- expected -- no longer feared -- just more hatred in love's clothing to watch out for.

Lashing out, apologizing, lashing out, apologizing -- it's a cycle like the phases of the moon -- predictable.  Sorry doesn't mean crap if nothing changes.  It means nothing at all ... just like when you say you love me and act like nothing ever happened, knowing full well you'll lash out again -- it's what you do.  Why can't you realize that though the heart may forgive, the remnant of the wound won't let me forget. The memory of the pain may disappear but the scar?  Scars fade, but they never go away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

no worries.
 it's a rant, nothing more.
I'm fine

More for my own information than anything else ...

Yesterday and last night I struggled with MS related neuropathic pain.  It's left me with what I call a "pain hangover".  It wears me out emotionally.  My spirit feels deflated.  My resilience isn't in evidence today.  I'm guessing my body knows what it needs better than I do so I'm chillin'.

I need to find a better way to keep track of my symptoms.  I really hesitate to do it with a calendar because if I see several days of symptoms in a row, it can be distressing (stress will exacerbate MS symptoms) and can be depressing as well. 

Besides feeling beat up, I'm not feeling very communicative right now so forgive my silence and the absence of visits, tags, comments and hugs ... except for just this one group hug from me ...

(((((((((( y'all ))))))))))

I'm not really mad at Starbucks but the District Manager I spoke with today can kiss my sweet brown ass.  This all relates back to my post:

The Ides of March, a blustery day in New Orleans, Starbucks and me ...

After two weeks, two additional phone calls to Starbucks corporate offices and two conversations with two store managers that I'm friendly with, guess what ... no call from the manager of the store where I was attacked by a patio umbrella and no package.  Yesterday, I finally received the "package" -- a $30.00 gift card.  Very generous but I'm at a point now where I'm so digusted with the way this has been handled, I don't know if I even want to go back to Starbucks.  The problem is, as of yesterday, still no call.  I figured I'd wait several more days and at the three-week-mark, I'll call again.  What am I looking for?  I'm looking for someone responsible for that store to call me and thank me for making them aware of the problem and that it was definitely handled incorrectly. 

I received the long awaited call this morning from the District Manager ... let's call her Ms. She Who Does Not Know The Meaning of Customer Relations -- Ms. Relations for short.

Ms. Relations:  I'm sorry that happened to you, Ma'am.

me:  Thank you, I appreciate that.  My main concern was that it was handled so poorly and I thought someone should know.

Ms. Relations:  Well, the baristas are supposed to stay behind the counter while the manager is on a short 30 minute break, Ma'am.  [I forgot to mention to her that Meecie and I were there a good 30 to 45 minutes after the "incident" and no manager ever showed.]

me:  So no one is left "in charge" while the manger is on lunch break?

Ms. Relations:  No, Ma'am.  It's not necessary.

me:  And employees aren't informed of any procedure if an accident happens?

Ms. Relations:  No, employees are not trained to take incident reports, Ma'am.

me:  [don't think for one minute that I don't know that Ma'am means bitch.]  And they're not even told to get a phone number so someone in authority can call and take an incident report or just call period.

Ms. Relations:  [pause]  No, Ma'am.

me:  And, I'm baffled why it took over two weeks to receive a call from anyone -- a manager, a district manager, a regional manager ... anyone at all.

Ms. Relations:  [dead silence]

me:  Excuse me.  You sound a little distracted.  Are you distracted Ms. Relations?  I'm just curious because either you're distracted or your being condescending and I would hate to believe that a representative of Starbucks would be condescending to a concerned consumer.

Ms. Relations:  No, Ma'am, I'm not distracted.

me:  [dead silence.  I'm thinking ... "Did she just insult me?"]

Now it all of a sudden dawns on me.  This wench resents me because I talked to more than one person about it and she was obviously wrong for taking so long to call me.  She's probably had to answer to someone for that alone.  I get it ... now I suspect that's the reason for the Ma'am.  I also suspect that perhaps it's Starbucks policy to defend their employees actions to the customer no matter what, even if the employee gets reprimanded.  Or maybe she didn't want to criticize the employees of that store since she's responsible for the stores in the district?

I made it a point to let her know that I'm friendly with most of the staff at all the Starbucks in this area.  We (Meecie and I) are there nearly every day.  I buy gifts from Starbucks and we use Starbucks products in our home.  I was trying to make a point that I'm not some random hit and run disgruntled customer.  The staff at any Starbucks in our area can attest to that.  AND I tip well!  If I don't have the cash to tip, I've been know to go back later in the day to toss money in the tip jar.  I didn't get why Ms. Relations was being such a wench.

The conversation was deteriorating by the second.  We ended the phone call.  She ended it by telling me, basically, that she's sorry the wind threw that umbrella at me but what followed had nothing to do with the quality of service at that store. 

OMG!  How I wanted to let loose a tirade but, believe it or not, I have more class than that. Instead, I just called the corproate offices and tattled on her.  Neaner-neaner, bitch!  I know, real mature.  I actually did call the corporate Customer Relations number again and was told that they were very sorry for the way she handled the situation and that, no, it wasn't acceptable.  THIS time the Regional Manager, Steven, is going to call me.  Oooooo.

*sigh*

I know I seem like a little pansy sometimes, but don't underestimate the bark and bite of this Chihuahua.  I'm a believer in boycotting products and letter writing campaigns.  If it seems like I possess some sort of sense of entitlement, I do.  I think every single customer of any store of any kind, is entitled to pleasant service and concern if something goes wrong.  Free coffee is nice, but nothing will soothe an unhappy customer like "human" kindness.  Just throwing "money" my way isn't a solution.  There's too little human customer service in today's society.  I have news for Ms. Relations ... I'M not the problem.  Could I be if someone doesn't step up to the plate and admit it was handled horribly?  Yes, Ma'am, Ms. Relations, yes, indeed!

Of all the things that Multiple Sclerosis has taken from me, I think I miss heat the most. 

I love the feel of the sun on my skin ... but just a few minutes in the sun makes me feel like I want to lay down and die. 

I miss taking hot, hot showers ... as hot as I can stand it without it searing my skin off.  Taking a shower has become a chore ... something I have to do every day, not something I look forward too ... that something that used to rejuvenate me. 

I hate that my electric bill is sky high because I can't bear for it to be any warmer than 68 to 70 degrees.  It doesn't help that I can't run around half naked because ... well, because I live with someone I don't feel confortable around scantily clad.

I hate that even though I like my hair long, it's too thick and heavy on my neck to wear down most the time.  When the summer months come, I think I'll be very tempted to cut it.

Jazzfest begins the last weekend of April.  It's already warm here.  Last year when I went to Jazzfest I nearly ended up in the hospital with heat stroke.  I'm guessing I probably shouldn't go this year but I'm trying to figure out a way I can tolerate the heat.  I've even thinking of buying a cooling vest.  They're not very attractive, but who would want to miss a line-up like this?  (The acts in bold are the ones I'm dying to see)

The Neville Brothers, Stevie Wonder, Billy Joel, Jimmy Buffett, Tim McGraw, Santana, Maze feat. Frankie Beverly, Sheryl Crow, Widespread Panic, Dr. John, Al Green, Diana Krall, Keyshia Cole, Robert Plant and Alison Krauss, The Raconteurs, Irma Thomas, Steel Pulse, John Prine, Elvis Costello and Allen Toussaint, Randy Newman, Bobby McFerrin and Chick Corea, O.A.R., Galactic, The Roots, Dianne Reeves, Michael Franti & Spearhead, Burning Spear, Ozomatli with Chali 2na, Rebirth Brass Band, Kenny Wayne Shepherd, Tower of Power, Delbert McClinton, John Hammond, Cassandra Wilson, Keb' Mo', The Count Basie Orchestra feat. Patti Austin, Pete Fountain, The Derek Trucks Band, Richard Thompson, Bela Fleck and Abigail Washburn, The Radiators, James Cotton, Cupid, The John Butler Trio, Del McCoury, Vernel Bagneris: Jelly Roll & Me, Terence Blanchard with the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra, Buckwheat Zydeco, John P. Kee & the New Life Community Choir, Cowboy Mouth, Byron Cage with Kim Burrell, Bishop Paul S. Morton, Sr. and the Greater St. Stephen Choir, Trinitee 5:7, Lizz Wright, Voices of the Wetlands Allstars, Dirty Dozen Brass Band, The Bad Plus, Carolina Chocolate Drops, Bettye LaVette, Trombone Shorty & Orleans Ave., Gene "Duke of Earl" Chandler, Preservation Hall Jazz Band, Davell Crawford's N.O. R & B Orchestra, Henry Butler, Beausoleil avec Michael Doucet, Leo Nocentelli's "Rare Gathering," Lee Boys, Harlem Blues and Jazz Band, MOOV of Martinique, Jackson Southernaires, Big Jay McNeely, Paul Porter of the Legendary Christianaires, Nicholas Payton

I went to go mutter but they could not be found.  No mutterings on Sunday leaves my mind quite unsound!

It's true, Unconscious Mutterings is missing.  Or I thought they were.  I tried a bevy of ways to access the lost mutterings.  Finally, after some relentless searching, I found them here.

Let's mutter, shall we?

1. Stuffed :: what I should have done to my bras in high school.  I might have had more dates then ... or maybe Paul would have been more interested.
2. Gills :: stuffed to the gills :: what I was after eating half a stuffed bell pepper last night ... apparently, I'm still stuck on stuffed.
3. Distance :: There's just too much of it ... between Deirdre and me, Candy and me, Paul and me
4. Panties :: OMG!  What a head rush that sparked ... here goes ... "Don't get your panties in a wad" "Day of the Week Panties"  "white grandma drawers" "Happy Bunny panties (what I'm wearing now)" and last but not least, "Where did these panties come from?  Who do they belong to and how did they get under the bed?  And don't tell me they're yours because these are five sizes too small for you."  That about does it, I think.
5. Checkered :: past .... *ouch*
6. Fill in :: the blanks
7. Taunting :: Nyah, Nyah, Nyah - Nyah, Nyah
8. Diner :: Twilight Zone / Season 2 / Episode 43 / Nick of Time .... "The hand belongs to Mr. Don S. Carter, male member of a honeymoon team on route across the Ohio countryside to New York City. In one moment, they will be subjected to a gift most humans never receive in a lifetime. For one penny, they will be able to look into the future. The time is now, the place is a little diner in Ridgeview, Ohio, and what this young couple doesn't realize is that this town happens to lie on the outskirts of [cue music - duh, duh, duh, DUH] the Twilight Zone."
9. Pizza :: double pepperoni or vegetarian
10. Best friend :: knows everything about me and loves me still

Wanna mutter?  "Rules are, there are no rules." There are no right or wrong answers. Don't limit yourself to one word responses; just say everything that pops into your head.  You can mutter there or mutter along with me in my comments.  Y'all know how I love it when you mutter.  ENJOY! 

Unconscious Mutterings courtesy of LunaNina

In sixth grade I remember covering one of my text books with, of all things, aluminum foil. Then I took a Tigerbeat magazine and cut out every picture I could find of the Beatles.  I glued (as best one can glue paper to foil) picture after picture of John, George and Paul all over the front of the book.  On the back, I glued only pictures of Ringo.  Don't ask.  I don't know why he was my favorite, but he was.  I then took cellophane and s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d it over the entire book and taped it (again, the best one can tape cellophane to aluminum foil).  When I say all the girls in my class were jealous ... I'm exaggerating.  LOL  I didn't give a hoot if they liked it or not.  I'm was a crafty kind of a girl.  When I say crafty, it means I liked to play with glue, construction paper, etc -- not that I was crafty as in sly.  *grin*

In junior high and high school, we had to be serious about our studies and treat our books like we respected them.  I LOVE books ... I would NEVER deface a book!  However, I also loved Paul ... Paul of Forever Love Paul, not Beatle Paul.  By my sophomore year of high school I graduated from falling hopelessly in love with rock stars who didn't know I was alive to being hopelessly obsessed with real, live boys who didn't know I was alive.  Although, never once was I crestfallen because Beatles Paul or Ringo passed me in the hall and didn't notice me.  The only person who could achieve that sort of emotional wreckage was Forever Love Paul.

Anyone remember actually taking a paper bag out of the cupboard, cutting out the bottom, slitting it up the side and using it to make a bookcover for a school book?  There were four school aged kids in our house.  We FOUGHT for paper bags.  Ahhh, those were the days.  A stinging forearm and half a paper bag in hand -- the other half in a sibling's hand.

I don't know what year I did it, but at one time I covered a bookcover with different versions of "Paul" ... in cursive, block print, with flowers, dots ... you name it, I came up with at least fifty ways to write Paul.  I don't think I would have done this while I was in school with Paul because there was a very good chance he or his sister might see it.  I'm nearly certain I did it the year after I moved away and was at a different school.

Not long ago, I was going through some boxes while digging for more Paul memorabilia (of which there is much).  In one box,, I found a wax paper sandwich bag -- is my age showing?  The contents of the box had been joustled so much in several moves, the poor bag and it's contents was even more cumpled.  Inside the bag were several pieces of brown paper, kinda crumpled and torn.  I opened the bag and pulled out the pieces carefully.  When I turned them over, I was amazed to see what they were.  I pieced them together and snapped a picture.

Ahhh, love's debris.  Well, not really debris because although I tore and cumpled it up, I obviously couldn't bring myself to dispose of it AND I've held on to it for thirty-nine years!  Is that normal?

The title of this entry brought to you by The Sloganizer.  Excuse me?  Did the Sloganizer just dis me?  LMAO

About the last entry ... the response feels as if my friends have lined themselves up as a human barricade of love to protect me from those who would judge me.  Believe me -- I'm okay.

I'm blowing and going this morning so can't visit.  Had to drop in and fire this off.  Y'all are amazing.  Like Sol said, those who are unkind are suffering some sort of emotional turmoil themselves.  Maybe I also should have added yesterday my other mantra ... "The way others treat us says more about them than it does about us."  I truly believe that.  God knows, there are a plethora of girls who have and ARE still in the situation I was in.  I think about them nearly every day.

Y'all ... after reading Wednesday's post, you can't possibly think that a little criticism is going to get me down, do you?  I've handled so much worse.  The only people who could hurt me would be those who are totally incapable of it.

No worries!  Okie-dokie artichokies?

Later gators.