Monday, September 27, 2004

I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB!!

Woo hoo! I got the job!! Yaaaaaaa meeeee!!!! Hee hee!! :)

Seriously, you are all now reading the blog of the new official DHS Liaison for the Domestic Violence Resource Center of Hillsboro, Oregon. Isn't that so TOTALLY COOL?!?!

What does that mean, you might ask? Basically, I am going to be in each of the three DHS offices (located in Beaverton, Hillsboro and Tigard) in Washington County at least one day per week. One of those offices will have me two days per week... depending on who is the busiest. And one day per week I will be stationed in the DVRC business office, attending meetings are working on case management for clients. Also, I will be developing resources in the community for use by future clients, as well as DHS staff, as additional sources of help for DV victims.

So, there will be a lot of commuting by car, a lot of initial confusion (I think I will essentially have four offices and four supervisors) and a lot to learn right from the get go. To me, it sounds like an absolute blast. A scary blast, but a blast nonetheless.

I am so excited, and so relieved to finally have a place to go every day. I am going to be out there being a “worker bee” again!! WOO HOO!!! And the money is good enough that I should be able to pay my bills. And I will be making new contacts in the industry, so I should never have to go this long without a job ever again... should anything happen to this job (like the grant that pays my salary doesn't get renewed if "W" gets re-elected).

I wanted to say “thank you” to everyone who wrote to wish me well, or to say that they would be praying for me, etc. I think it made all the difference and I am so happy and grateful to you all. I love all you guys!

So, now I have a few things to get caught up, a few things to prepare for... because I start work next Monday. I have to get Buddy all set up in his new day care routine. I have to get organized to make sure that I run as streamlined as possible during the day. I have to get back on a normal sleep schedule. And I have to start making sure I get enough exercise so I don’t get too stressed out. I think I am going to go ahead and quit caffeine again- may as well get it out of the way now. It will only be worse once I am working.

Well, that’s all for now. I hope that this post finds everyone happy and healthy.


Love to all,


Sherry

Thursday, September 23, 2004

Getting better...

So, things were better today. I got a call to go and interview for a job with my old internship site, DVRC (Domestic Violence Resource Center). I am going to interview for a job called "DHS liaison." Bascially, it is a go between job. We shall see.

I am still trying to get everything ready for the trip to Bend, OR. I interviewed a doggie boarding place today, which was pretty nice. Buddy seemed a little freaked out by the place at first, but he calmed down later. I may still try to find another place, though. I don't know.

I went shopping for a new outfit for my interview. The folks at Nordstrom's are VERY helpful (if you live in Portland and need women's clothing, go see Roxanne at the Lloyd Center Nordy's). But the outfit I finally decided on costs about $313.00... that's US Dollars, folks. It would be nice if it was Yen or something like that, but it's not. I am not sure I can afford that kind of cabbage right now, and I am even less sure about Franz's offer to buy it for me. We shall see. I have enough guilt over how many lunches and dinners he has bought for me while I am semi-destitute.

On the brainwave front, I felt a bit better today. Hopefully the drugs are leaving my system peacefully. I was only close to tears about 3 times today, and that is a vast improvement over the last few days where I would say I was averaging anywhere between 10 and 20... with occasional flat out sobbing over nothing. Imagine your worst PMS... yourself at your most insecure and needy. You are heartbroken when your boyfriend doesn't look back at you when he is walking away from you down the street.... ridiculous stuff like that. That's what the last few days have been like. But, not today. Today was better.

Well, folks, that's all for now. I am super tired from shopping and checking out places for Buddy. And walking Buddy. And walking over to have lunch with Franz. All that jazz. I hope that everyone reading this is happy and healthy, and that you are going to have a great day (or night).

Love to all,

Sherry

Monday, September 20, 2004

Sun broken days....and rants galore!

(WARNING: I am in a singularly bad mood at the moment so this post is just absolutely peppered with profanity- ah, alliteration, my English professor would be so proud!- You have been warned.)

So, I have made a few decisions in the last few days. The most important of which is that I am quitting the damn Wellbutrin XL completely. I am down to the last part of the weaning protocol... one day on, two days off. I have gone through a week of this roller coaster ride and I have had enough. I would rather take the consequences of quitting early than finish the last week.

In case you were wondering, this is how the roller coaster ride goes... you take the pill, you get angry all freakin day for no good reason. The next day you feel mentally and emotionally wiped out. And the third day you feel okay for the most part, but you are craving your next "fix". You get grumpy and short with people who love you. You doubt everything you ever thought of as being true. Everything takes too long, and you hate the whole wide world for not being faster, smarter and better than it is. And, oh yeah, you can't freakin' sleep at night to save your ass. And there is also some interesting swiss-cheesey-ness to your short term memory that is fun when you are trying to remember things like how old your boyfriend is, etc. Yep, in short, it sucks.

I have had enough. I hate the people at GlaxoSmithKline... I can say that because I am having a drug-craving day. Hopefully tomorrow will be a day when I just feel okay and like myself for the majority of the day. I felt like a lump on a log all day today. I can't keep a train of thought longer than a minute, and it takes forever to do things that require any amount of concentration. Everything is pissing me off and I feel close to tears over stupid things. Like what, you say? Well, glad you asked...

1) Dan Rather was forced to apologize on air for publishing the papers regarding the fact that "W" was a hopeless slackass in the Air National Guard. Now they are thinking that the papers can't be authenticated, and it appears that the man who gave them to them was a longtime military man who has an ax to grind with the government. First off, tell me one longterm veteran who DOESN'T have an ax to grind with the government that very often seeks to turn its back on those who gave their best years to serve it. Secondly, authenticate the damn papers before you apologize!! Do the freakin research, because even if you find out later that they ARE authentic, no one will believe you. Geez!! I CAN'T be the only person in the world who thinks "W" was, is and will always be an ass. Why is it so difficult for the so-called liberal media to get anything on his sorry self? It's not like he is really trying hard to hide the fact that he is an alcoholic, entitled, right wing conservative, hopelessly small-minded and smug sonovabitch slackass!!! DAMMIT!!!

2) I am truly afraid that the aforementioned SOB is going to be re-elected. Inflated poll numbers are being accepted as true out there in the world today. And if people are buying into this crap then they might just not turn out on polling day, believing that they won't be able to change anything. I can already sense a bit of disenchantment amongst the DNC panhandlers on the street... "(sigh) Are you registered to vote? (sniffle)" God damn it, you beautiful sad bastards, don't give up yet!! And, for Christ's sake, if you like this blog, if you ever had any feeling for me as a person, vote for John Kerry in November. And if you are planning on voting for Bush- who the hell let you in?!?! Why are you reading this!?!? We don't like your kind here!! Go away!! (Or else.)

3) Depression causes you to doubt all sorts of things, and makes you remember things you would rather forget. So, sometimes I doubt the people who love me really do, in fact, love me. Consequently, I mistrust that love and push people away. Or worse, try to test their love by being a terrible pain in the butt. My instinct when I am hurting is just to be alone. I will heal myself, don't need anybody else, thank you very much. I drag out every bad thing I have ever thought about any relationship I have ever had and throw it under an electron microscope. (And you can see ALOT under one of those things.) So, for the people that love me and who I have been unnaturally rough on these last few weeks- you know who you are- hang in there. I know I'm a pain in the ass... just can't help it right now. Hopefully when all this is over, your persistance in loving me will be rewarded. God, I hope so. (hint- it won't be rewarded monetarily unless I win the lottery, so don't get your hopes up. I was thinking along the lines of some sort of spiritual reward- which is both cheaper and more expensive at the same time.)

4) Something else that is pissing me off? Feeling weak. I feel weak all the time now. Not strong enough to kick this drug, find a job, take care of Buddy, make everyone around me happy and love everyone fully without fear of eventual, but ineveitable, rejection.

5) Fox cancelled "Firefly". It's an old lament, but it is there nonetheless. There are NO, count 'em NO, Joss Whedon shows on television right now. And the world is just a little bit darker for it. And, they didn't even replace any of his shows with something good. There is NOTHING on television, people!! Why do you think I am in here blowing an hour (or more) writing this?!?!

Okay, well, I think that is all for now. God, I wish I had something else to talk about that didn't involve self-loathing, pharmaceuticals or politics. Topics anyone? Will write for the price of a kind comment with a thoughful topic....

Love to all,

Sherry

Saturday, September 18, 2004

Black market beagles and birthdays...

Franz and I finally finished the Firefly TV show on DVD marathon. I think one of the funniest moments throughout was the joke about black market beagles having smaller droppings, and thus, being a better cargo to smuggle in a spaceship. Plus, that phrase is just fun to say... black market beagles... black market beagles. Hee hee!

Well, today marks the first day of my 31st year on this lovely planet. I feel sort of strange today. I guess sort of content, because I feel like I want nothing. I need nothing. It feels strange not to have desire. But it's also kind of good. I guess it means I am happy with my life the way that it is now. Maybe this is what serenity is.

At any rate, that's about all I have to say at the moment. I am 31 and all is right with the world today. It doesn't get much better than that.

Love to all,

Sherry

Friday, September 17, 2004

Well, it's been a week...

And I still don't really have a whole lot to say. I have applied for 5 more jobs this week. One of which has pay in the low $9.00 per hour range, but hey, something has to be worth more than nothing, right?

Things are good here. On Saturday I will be turning 31. That sounds like such an old number, but I don't really feel all that different from 21. I guess age really is a state of mind. Well, okay, so tell that to my body, which has been having more than its share of aches and pains lately. But, for the most part, I don't really feel any older.

The Wellbutrin weaning is going as well as anyone may expect. I still feel crazy some of the time, but sane the rest. I guess that is about as good as I can hope for at this point, or even once it is out of my system completely. I still am having trouble sleeping at night. I can sleep just fine during the day, though... which is weird. Normally it would be the other way around.

I need to quit caffeine again. I just dread doing it at the same time as quitting the Wellbutrin.... it is a pain in the ass to quit caffeine on a good week. I can't imagine what it would be like with that lumped on top of it!

That's about all for now. Just chalk this blog up to being "mostly filler"... so you guys don't think I have died or anything like that.

Love to all,

Sherry

Friday, September 10, 2004

Close Calls- Part 2

The second time I was attacked, I was working in Sunrise, Florida- just west of Fort Lauderdale. This little town is known for just about one thing... or at least it was when I worked there... Sawgrass Mills Mall. Yep, the big draw to Sunrise is a HUGE mall. It's 1.25 miles across. If you walk the whole thing in one day you walk 2.5 miles- not counting going into any of the stores. It is a giant. Back then it was the largest outlet mall in the USA. I'm sure, though, this being America and all, that there is something bigger and, well, bigger by now.

Anyway, I worked for a family of Russians at a place called Bedlington Investments. It sounds like some sort of financial firm, but it is really just a high end shop in the mall. They sold all sorts of collectibles and jewelry, as well as art. They also sold Russian "artifacts". Like those little nesting dolls- one inside the next larger one, etc. They sold what the Cubans called "iconistas", or icons. Golden framed jeweled representations of saints or cardinals or whatever in the Russian Orthodox church.

I was sort of an assistant manager. I was responsible for some of the other employees, and I was almost the most senior non-family employee that they had. I was pretty good at the soft sell techniques you need for some of the things they sold. You don't hard sell someone into buying $1500.00 of Lladro ceramics or Swarovski crystal. You simply remark how beautiful it is and look admiringly at it while they consider it. If you treat it like it belongs in a museum, they will pay for it like it does.

Anyway, I was leaving before sunset one day, an unusual occurance for me as I was often a closer. I noticed a homeless-looking man off to my left, rummaging through the garbage can outside. This was sort of unusual, since mall security would have run this guy off pretty quickly under most circumstances. But today was different. Anyway, I took note of it and kept on moving, eager to get home, order a pizza and watch some t.v.

The next thing I knew I heard shuffling behind me. I knew it was the man, I didn't even have to turn to look. There just wasn't any question in my mind. He tried to say something like "Excuse me, spare some change" or whatever to get me to turn. Something told me not to stop, not to turn to face him. I kept on walking, although looking back I know now I should have run.

Then he grabbed me.

He had a pretty good grip on my left shoulder. It was strange because it felt like his hands were channeling electricity into me. I turned towards the shoulder he grabbed me by, forcing that part of my body closer to him. It's counterintuitive, most people would expect you to jerk forward and away, so they hold on harder with the front of their hand. They don't expect you to move into them, and I think that's exactly why it worked. He lost his grip on me. Don't ask me how I knew to do it that way, it's just the way it happened.

I pushed my shoulder and my right hand into his chest, shoving him away from me as hard as I could. I yelled, "Get away from me!" My forehead grazed his unshaven chin. I smelled the alcohol on his breath. I was angry. How dare he put his hands on me?! Not because I thought that I was better than him, but back then, all he would have had to do was ask and I would have given him whatever change I had. He was pretty drunk I suppose, because he fell backwards onto his ass. He called me a "bitch." I didn't stop to find out if he was okay, I ran to my car. And with my hands shaking from fear, anger and adrenaline, I unlocked the door and got in. I looked in the rear view mirror long enough to make sure that I wouldn't hit him, or anyone else, as I was leaving. Then I peeled out of that parking lot faster than I ever had before.

I went home, but couldn't stop thinking about it. Did he just want money? Was he going to try to rape me? Kidnap me? Kill me? Would he be there the next time I went to work? It was awful and scary. But I was proud of myself for fighting and not just giving in to whatever it was he wanted.

So, now, here I am roughly 11 years later. I still wonder about him. I never saw him again. I wonder what happened to him. I wonder if I hurt him. If I did, I wonder if he got help. I wonder if he even remembered that he tried to grab me. And if he did, I wonder if he felt bad.

That's all for now. Thanks for reading, everyone!

Love to all,

Sherry

Thursday, September 09, 2004

Close calls.

I was reading some other folks' blogs today, and found a few stories about close calls, either with a person who had a weapon, or about the first time they almost had sex, or other kinds of close calls... things that may have been frightening, but are now maybe looked back on with a sense of nostalgia and/or excitement. That got me started thinking about my own close calls.

The first time I was ever attacked I was somewhere between the ages of 11 and 13. I was old enough to know what sex was, young enough to be scared of it, and still living in the same home I grew up in- in Orlando, Florida.

When I was born, this neighborhood had no female children in it, and what boys were there were WAY older than me. I became, in essence, the neighborhood mascot to a bunch of early 1970's hippie teenage boys. Seriously, my Mom has pictures of me as a baby being held and watched over by an entire group of shirtless, bell bottom wearing, Sean Cassidy hair-styled, teenaged boys. I think back on those photos now and they are hilarious. I can just imagine what those boys were thinking, "Don't drop her. Hold her right. Hey! Give her back to me." Something you might think if you were holding a puppy or a ceramic doll.

Eventually, there were a few girl children. But they were all much younger than me. And I never got along as well with them, being as much of a tomboy as I was. Most of the playmates I had were boys, both significantly older and younger than me. Which is why I thought nothing of it when Chris and his friend (whose name I have since forgotten) came into my yard acting like they wanted to play. I had played with them many times in the past, with Chris especially, who I considered to be a friend. He lived right down the road from me. We used to climb trees together all the time.

There was something different about Chris on this day. He seemed sweaty (okay, sweaty-er... it was Florida after all) and nervous, and his friend was too quiet and looking at Chris like he was waiting for him to make the first move. For some reason, I was sitting inside my inflatable swimming pool, which had no water in it. I think I was picking pieces of grass and dirt out of it so we could fill it up the next day and go wading around in it. I was already my full height of 5'6" at this time, and I couldn't lay down all the way in the pool, so it was pretty small. I probably weighed around 100 pounds. Chris' friend said that he thought he could pick me up "easy". This was a spoken like a bet, or a dare. I was loathe to turn down a bet, or a dare... I never wanted to be seen as anything "less" than one of the boys- meaning (to them at least) being seen as a girl. So I gave him my arms. He grabbed me by the wrists and started to haul me out of the pool. Chris then grabbed my feet and they were carrying me like a jump rope up and out of the pool.

I saw their faces change... to something harder, much more grown up than they should have been. I remember something rolled over in my stomach. I remember I had this feeling like I had to pee. I recognize it as being fear, now. My mind hadn't wrapped itself around the concept then, though. I knew that they were carrying me out of my yard, though. I knew if they did that I would be in big trouble. I wasn't allowed to go out my gate without telling my Mom where I was going. Then Chris' friend said, "What do you want to do to her?" Not "with" her. The answer to that question would have been, "Drop her in the sandspur patch," or something like that. Something that would have hurt, would have made me mad, would have made them laugh, and would have been forgotten the next day when we were all climbing trees again. But "to" her. That would be a different answer. It was going to be permanent, and not something that anyone would be laughing about later. I heard words I didn't really know yet, like "dildo", "fuck her", "screw her"... at least, not in any context that had ever applied to me. I just knew it wasn't good.

I was within 25 or 30 feet of the back yard gate. I started screaming my head off. "MOM!! MOM!!! PUT ME DOWN!!! MOM!!! HELP ME!!!" I had my head twisted back, looking upside down at the kitchen window, praying I would see her face between the familiar green and white ruffled curtains with the browning lace that my grandmother had sewed for the house when my folks first moved in. And, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, there she was. I started to cry. I didn't know how much trouble I was going to be in, and I still wasn't sure if she could get to me in time. The boys started moving faster, Chris' friend's shins were hitting me in the head as they tried to run with me. "MOM!! HELP ME!!" I still don't know what she yelled at them out that kitchen window. I hope she threatened to shoot them. Whatever it was, they dropped me. Of course, it was ass first onto a bunch of sandspurs. I think people call them "stickers" or "burrs" here. Anyway, it was an ass full of sharp little thorns for me, but at least I was safe.

She came outside, and I was already up and running towards her. I told her what they said, I was shaken and crying then. I was afraid I would get in trouble for trusting them. For inviting them into my yard, even though our yard was pretty much a "come over anytime" kind of place. She took me inside and helped take the sandspurs out. She had me take a shower to wash what little blood there was up, and she put hydrogen peroxide on the little holes. She made me dinner, and I went to bed before my sister (who was younger than me) that night.

Now that I am older, I imagine the reason I had to take a shower was that my Mom was calling my Dad (and/or my grandfather or uncles). I imagine that the reason I went to bed early was not just that I was wiped out from what had happened, but because adult conversations were being had, and possibly men were leaving the house to go find the two boys fathers and have a chat with them.

I saw both boys in the neighborhood in the months and years to come. But they never came near me again. In fact, anyplace I would go, they would leave shortly after I arrived. Which was a fun game to play, until I mentioned it to my Mom and she told me not to follow them around just to make them leave places.

It was never talked about again. And we moved from the neighborhood when I was 13. And I almost never think of that story, except for when I am volunteering at the Restraining Order Advocacy Program. This program is designed to help people (primarily women) understand the process involved in, and fill out the paperwork for, getting a restraining order. There is one section where I have to ask people if they want the "respondent" to be able to come within 100 yards of them. They almost always say "no". Then the inevitable question, "What if he is at the grocery store and I walk in? Do I get thrown in jail for violating the restraining order?" I always think of Chris and his friend, and then I say, "No, he (or she) would have to leave within a few minutes of your arrival. You can't violate your own restraining order."

I never needed a restraining order. I just had my Mom, and maybe my Dad or my grandpa or my uncles. Luckily, back then, that was enough.

Maybe someday I will tell you guys about the other close calls. In the meantime, feel free to tell me about yours. I'm all ears.

Love to all,

Sherry

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

Hurricane Frances and an Anniversary...

I had an alternately relaxing and excruciatingly worrisome long weekend this weekend. Franz had four days off for the Labor Day holiday, and our first year anniversary fell on Sunday in the middle of it. I wanted to do something special for him, so I decided to cook. I am not the world's greatest cook, but I made him a huge lasagna, an Italian salad with Romaine lettuce, red onion and raddichio, garlic bread and a nice bottle of Willamette Valley Vineyards 2003 Pinot Gris. I got us both little apple pie tarts from a specialty bakery near the condo.

Poor Franz had to wait quite a while for dinner to be ready. First I told him we would eat at 2pm, and not to come over before then. Then I called him and pushed the time back to 3:30. Then I called again and pushed it back to 3:45pm. Things always move slower than I think they will when I am trying to cook. Plus, I forget ingredients and have to make mad dashes back to the grocery store. Add to that the fact that I wanted to vacuum the place, dust, and wash the sheets from the bed, and just generally straighten up... and, well, things got delayed.

We also exchanged presents to mark the special occasion. He got me two seasons on DVD of television shows that I loved that have since been cancelled. The sixth season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the complete first (and only) season of Firefly. Both series were created by a man named Joss Whedon, who I think is just an amzing writer. I got him (strangley enough) a DVD of a television show that he liked and that was also cancelled. It's called "Harsh Realm." We have been working our way through the DVDs and having a great time.

In short, we had a wonderful, relaxing and loving weekend. On Monday, Franz made me breakfast in bed, and we went shopping at Pier One, where we found some really pretty cobalt blue martini/Cosmopolitan glasses for the house that were on sale. Then we took Buddy to the dog park and watched him have a great time wearing himself out for about an hour. There is just something about fall in Oregon. There is a peacefulness and calmness to it that is so soothing. I love it here.

Another reason why I love it here is that there are no hurricanes. My Mom, sister and nephew decided to take their dog and evacuate from Florida and Hurricane Frances at almost the last minute. They drove up to North Carolina to stay with my Uncle Tim and Aunt Lynn. It was nerve racking for me not to know how they were, or how their house would be when and if they were able to return home. It's hard to be 3000 miles away from your family when there is trouble. I spent alot of time this weekend watching the weather channel, surfing the web for sites that had news local to my Mom's home. They say that there aren't just hundreds of trees down, but thousands in the county where my Mom lives. Some places may have to wait 10-14 days for power to be restored to their homes. Shelters failed there, and people who went into them had to be moved to safer places. Can you imagine that the shelter you go to has it's roof ripped off? Hard to feel safe anywhere when things like that happen.

I thought my Dad was in Tennessee, but turns out he and his second wife stayed in their home. They boarded up and rode out the storm. He was kind enough to go drive by my Mom's house at my request to see what kind of damage there was. Thankfully, it was minor and it looks like their power was on as of this morning. So, my family is in route to Florida as I type this.

We still don't know what the next hurricane out in the Atlantic, called Ivan, will do. Hopefully it won't make landfall in Florida. I think they have had enough. I'm not even there and I know I have. Worrying is exhausting and draining. I wish there was a way to just blink my eyes or wiggle my nose and make it all better there. Repair everything that was broken, give back the human and animal lives that were lost, and take away all the fear and pain these last few weeks have caused everyone. I wish.

Well, anyway, that's all for now.

(Special anniversary message for Franz:
Franz, my darling, I love you. I couldn't be happier to have made it one whole year with you. I can't wait to see what the future holds for us... though I can't imagine it being better than this year was for me. I love you!!)

Love to all,

Sherry

Friday, September 03, 2004

Watching the moonrise....

Greetings and salutations!

How the heck is everyone out there tonight? I am listening to a few of my favorite songs and watching the moon rise. Franz decided to be bartender tonight, and let me tell you he makes a fearsome Cosmopolitan. I had 2 1/2 of them and went to bed. But now it is 12:44 am and I am up. Wide awake, actually. And, yet, still half in the bag. Weird, huh?

So, the day before yesterday was scary. Franz and I were on the MAX coming home from the soccer game (the Timbers won- in spite of a sucky ref who should burn in hell- woo hoo!) And there was this guy and girl fighting. At first I thought the girl knew the guy and it was a lover's tiff. No biggie. Then I heard her yell, "Get the fuck away from me, I've got a 9."

When you are in love and happy with the man you are sitting beside on public transportation, the words "I've got a 9" are the last you want to hear. Well, maybe second to last behind, "Honey, I went to the clinic and they tell me I've got HIV. You might want to get yourself checked out." Geez, that would be bad.

Anyway, so this bastard on the MAX continues to antagonize the girl with the 9mm handgun. And I am thinking, "You asshole, leave her the fuck alone because ricochets are a bitch." And, amazingly, in spite of the fact that she was armed, she was terrified of this bastard. She was backed up to the last section of the train, and getting louder, hoping that someone would help her. I recognized the tone in her voice, and yet I did nothing. I was amazed, but all I could think was, "I just want to get home with my boyfriend and to my dog." I hate myself for thinking that- for not coming to her aid. But what could I have done? Brandished my mace threateningly? Yeah, right. If the idea of a gun wasn't slowing the little freak down, I sincerely doubt the prospect of pepper spray would have bothered him.

So, instead, I spent the time thinking about what a bullet to the back of my skull would feel like. Do you feel that indentation at the base of your skull, just where your skull meets your spinal cord? That's the spot I was thinking of. I was also thinking of how I would protect Franz if something happened. And how maybe the metal that comprises the MAX is thin enough that a bullet wouldn't ricochet, but just pass through and land on the street after a massive deceleration.... without harming a soul. You know, wishful thinking. And not five feet from me this girl was holding up her bike's front wheel, loaded down with bags and scared to death, trying to ward off the boogie man... the one every woman has nightmares about. The one that is irrational, and can't be reasoned with. The one who was screaming at her, "What? You think you're all HARD because you've got a nine?!?! I'm not scared of you, bitch!"

Me, personally, I was scared of both of them. All I could think was, "These kids are going to get somebody killed because they are both scared to look small." Incidentally, you know you are old when you think of people who have the ability to get you killed as "kids".

I'm scared to look small all the time, but I just talk to Franz or my Mom about it. Sad to think that neither of these kids has someone like that to talk to. For me, they take that feeling away. Better than a gun, better than yelling at a stranger that I am not scared of them. I guess that is one of the things that love is all about.

But that was the day before yesterday.

Anyway, today I got alot done. I sent out 3 resumes for jobs I actually think I could do. I took Buddy to the dog park for some exercise. I did 3 loads of laundry. I got pizzas for Franz and me. And, as evidenced by the jumpiness of this blog, got hammered on Cosmopolitans... again. That's about all.

On a different note, big thanks to J.Po for the advice on weaning off anti-depressants. I wonder if she has an opinion on alcohol use during this process. I am coming down firmly against it since a headache is starting to come on right now. Ah well, live and learn.

Here's hoping that the newest hurricane doesn't kill my loved ones... who have (somewhat insanely) decided not to evacuate. I love you guys. Please take care.

Love to all,

Sherry