Tart's Birthday PhotoLoop

I had a fantastic birthday! For an old gal, I'd really have to rate this one high up there.

We had steak and wonderful company for dinner (steak to eat, people to share it with. Sheesh!). The cake was great: my favorite, peanut butter chocolate ice cream cake. We all had a lovely time, even my poor husband who got tired after serving and everything else and instructed me to hurry up opening presents. I'm lucky I got pictures!

I'd like to share the joy, and I present to you: Tart's Birthday 'Part of the Booty' PhotoLoop (care of, you guessed it, Photobucket). I have learned now in my older age that it doesn't hurt at all to either order or specify precisely what you'd like for your birthday. You tend to get what you want!!

My favorite gift is the Laurel Burch cat bag. Dad gave it to me. It is even more gorgeous in person let me tell you. Just stunning. But the Pug with Boa is sweet too, that one's from Husband. There's also the Kitty Kat spoon rest from Mom, and Siamese cat planter figurines, along with my flowers and piece of cake. Lots of good stuff.

Dad is still here and we've been watching movies. Husband got himself a Holland grill and we are having Honey Teriyaki soaked chicken breasts on the grill tonight. Yum! (Yaaay! He cooks, not me!!)

Thanks to all for the birthday wishes! Dad's here till at least right after Labor Day, so I'll spend as much time with him as possible. I'm thinking of taking him to a casino and spending a few hours there. Wish us luck! :)

Mama's Puggy little Helper!

Emma is my little helper, especially in the kitchen. When I brought home groceries and started putting them away, she had a grand old time with the bags, running around and skidding. Of course, she stopped doing this once I got the camera, but here she is being a little cutie just the same, snuffing around the groceries!







I have my first video of Reese the Siamese kitty extraordinaire, but unfortunately there wasn't much light when I shot it, and its too dark to see. Oh, well, better luck next time. I'll be sure to put one up when I get a better one.

Hey, I am alive and been a little busy. Earlier in the week I was just excited waiting for my Mom to bring my birthday present home: My Dad! Yes, she took her RV and drove out many miles to the middle of the country and picked him up and brought him home. So I've been enjoying time with my Dad and running around grocery shopping ('horrors') to be fully stocked to impress good ol' Dad with my cooking. Its' working so far.

Then, today, bad news. They thought Grandma had a stroke. But after a CAT scan at what can only called the incompetent fix-yur-broken-bones-n-go place next door (it's adjacent to the nursing home she's in, people go there if they cut themselves, broke a bone. Your not going to say hey, let's take Gma there, I think she had a stroke) they could not find anything and thankfully sent her to a real hospital. One side of her face (the right) is not working so well. And her right side of the mouth is drooping, slurring, etc. Now they are thinking it is Bell's Palsy. Husband has had this twice, I have a friend who's Mom had it once. Over time it is supposed to go away. But since Gma is 92 everything is more fragile and she's staying overnight at the hospital.

But on the bright side, I am getting older on Monday! Yes, I think I'm really going to clean up this year too. For instance, I know I'm getting flowers (from Moi), and I know several of my other gifts, since I ordered them myself. And the big granddaddy of already known gifts: My new elliptical trainer!! I am really stoked as I do in fact plan to use it. Through the years, I have learned that I hate treadmills and even bicycle exercise. I like the bouncy feeling of an elliptical. So anyhow, we went to Sears today and confirmed if I still liked them and bought it! This required husband to borrow a trailer from a friend and a lot man-handling of the big box. Thank you Hubby! You rock and I appreciate very much my B'Day present! I love you. :)

I've got some great videos of Reese and Emma (separately, of course) to post, but I'll wait till next time for that. I am also thinking of creating a slideshow titled something like "The Making of a Stew" because I did it again, took lots of pictures of *shock* the preparation of a stew. Maybe that's boring as all get out, but as Vincent, one of the designers on Project Runway said of some bizarre dress he designed "But, it really turns me on!" Creepy, I agree, but in my case we're talking about stew. Just go with me on this.

Italian PhotoLoop: Beautiful Italy, my Wishplace to go

Having gotten really tired of having 0 (zero) Blogger picture powers, I went to Photobucket.com and created a photoloop of pics of Italy, all from Webshot pictures that I have collected, mostly of the Grand Canal in Venice and one from beautiful Tuscany. I have not been to Italy, but would LOVE to go. Is it just me, or the lighting in Europe just gorgeous? Enjoy!

Bipolar killed the Self-Esteem (conjuring a "Ramones" beat)

Well all this 'aloneness' has given me even MORE time to think. I tried spilling my guts to DH, but as usual, the poor guy can't take it. He just can't listen to my overflowing, going on and on flavor of trying to get it all out. Not that I can blame him. UT wants to see me soon, and I know that even she cannot, even as a 'professional', listen to it all when I get like that, because A)there's just not enough time, B) there's not enough time, and C) her tag line is: Okay, you seem to be doing really well, your next appointment is...

The one big thing that I ponder, besides my anger at my lack of friends, is this connection between my Bipolar and my supposed low self-esteem. I give the bravado as much as I can, usually so angry in general, about how tough I am or whatever with this whole illness thing, and I seem so ready to join some ranks of kicking bottom and I'm gonna teach the whole world to sing Mental Illness, love thy neighbor, and Bipolar Rules! (Except for fakers. Find a place to rule elsewhere.

Well, anyway, I cannot deny that no matter I think of accomplishing in life, how I plan to handle people, that some part of me says, "You're Bipolar, you're weird, and because of this, you are lacking of some important internal element to succeed in life or get anything done."

Ouch. Talk about an internal negative voice (we all have one, but we're supposed to learn how to tame it)! Yes, I know about those things. I've been such an 'over-thinker' for years, trying to plan out stuff to the nth, or at least plan FOR things, my God, that can make you go crazy without a chemical imbalance.

I can FEEL that there is some shifting going on within. I am trying to push that shifting in a better direction, but I don't know if I can. And that tiny little paragraph above, its just my way of saying that I fear that I am doomed when so much must somehow be wrong with me. If I was diagnosed at 16, how do I continue to try to overcome this, when apparently it is so much a part of my personality (and how do you pull Bipolar apart from the rest of you? I think it cannot be done). It's like saying, "Oh my Dear, you really are damaged goods. Hmm...how do we pull you through this?

I feel that this is not expressing it. I have not hit upon the right wording that explains. I swear that I do not Feel depressed, mostly mad, and they say that's more like mania for me. But perhaps I go up and down. I find it so hard to ever figure out what even a day of emotion is for me. Maybe I'm just lazy, I should be monitoring myself, truly like a diabetic, and know at all times what my 'level' is. I wouldn't know where to begin.

Really I've had a good day, productive in some ways, so before anyone would accuse me of being in an outright bad mood with my next statements, I cannot figure out precisely what made me feel down or sad. Maybe it was the following events.

I guess all that did it was driving someone home this evening on a 45 mile an hour road and having some horrible big van thing RIGHT ON MY A**. I think that's the best way to put it, and I'm sure there's some of you reading this, probably the non-commenting kind, that think I cus too much on this blog. So be it. It's no copout for me to say that within me lies the beast of an angry Bipolar, expressed this many boring times, I know, but its the God awful truth, whether that is even a beneficial diagnosis sometimes or not. Okay, I guess disclaimer for saying a** is over.

So it's just mean the way that some people drive. My area, here's one for you to look up, is supposed Numero Uno in Road Rage. True. And every bit believable when you get in your beloved vehicle that you pay for monthly, buy gas and insurance for and 'head out on the highway.'

I will finish this evening's anecdote. Mr. Attitude moved EVEN closer AND put his high beams on. There's someone in front of me, and I refuse to be right on his bottom on pure principal and I am going the speed limit. So thought...hmmm...how can I let person know I have issues with the beyond bold driving, high lights and evilness? Roll down the window and give a well lit middle finger, yes I did. When the road finally opened up it was over, I went to the far left lane and he went in the right to get on the superfreeway. It was a company truck, with an enormous sattelite dish on it, absolutely no wording on the vehicle and he had plates located from the big city I'm near. There I have completely described him while giving no useable information whatsoever. Aren't you proud?

Simultaneously, I am driving home a 'friend' and discussing (that would be me talking, friend: I don't know if received info, as he is a fellow MI individual and after having dinner with my husband and I expressed that he'd just like to take a nap and damn if he wasn't purely gone after that, as in eyes open/brain shut down.) some things I was concerned about and, no shock here, not receiving much of an answer. So I dropped him off, and the combination of having an a**hole I completely don't know mess with me, while one that I do know do doing the same thing did and has taken its toll. To top it off there are issues with a person that is supposed to be Husband's friend and I do feel bad about it.

Okay, so here's the real statement. The upshot of all this explanatoriness for you. I am thinking that people just suck. In a deep, hitting me at my core way, I feel it is useless to trust even the people (and there are only few of these okay?) that I thought were my friends and don't even get me started with the world at large. Before blogger friends get upset and think I'm referring to them: Nope, I'm not. I'm way intelligent enough to figure that blog friends are a whole kettle different that those reality friends, the ones that look you in the face.

I just think, 'What's the point?' Every person that was my bestest bud has vanished from my life. People that I still love so, one's that know me incredibly well: Gone bye-bye. I'm thinking, "Who needs them?" If you want interaction go to the store or something, I swear that's what most women too busy to have friends do. That's what church social groups are for. Blah, blah, your looking great these days, blah, blah, go on your merry way. There's nothing significant going on there. (For those involved with these things DO express your sordid rage, because I'm not apologizing).

All I'm saying is, I have a great family, a tiny one, I am an only child so I am truly just not socialized properly, and I'm not seeing too much need for human interaction. My cat's fuzzy, my dog's fuzzy, they love me I am sure of it, and those critters are also a part of my family, so go figure: They're cool, they're in. They are better than people.

For anyone who's shocked that someone would say any of this, well read the last couple months of entries here on the blogola. I say what I mean. I feel that I'm denouncing life, society, that I want to hole up here at 'Terra' and involve myself in my own activities. I think I have been heading towards a realization like this for a while. I am not even sad as I say this, don't feel like crying. Yet, maybe I should feel those things because it seems such a deep step to take.

Get off me, Nasty Cruel World. And keep your pathetic humans as well.

Oh, and really this impacts the average blog reader not really at all. I may spend more time uploading videos and yak endlessly on my own pityous (yes, new word) problems, because I won't have to even try to entangle myself with real-life humans and their time draining patheticness. Lucky you.

(I could have called this 'Good bye Cruel World' but I hate it when people yank your chain like that. So no name.)

I Have VIDEOOOOOOO!!!!!

Thank you, Enigma, for telling me about http://www.photobucket.com! I spent a very long time with it. Here is a short video of Emma (the bigger Pug), my girl, being hassled by the very energetic Paddy-pug, Mom's lil pup. Emma is two-years-old in this, Paddy is probably about 5 months old. YAAAAAAYYYYYY!!!!! This is a proud Blogger moment for me. :)

Lawn Work and The Preparation for Imminent Doom

I do believe I proved my 'worth' today. Now, of course, being well-versed in Self-Esteemia (books and therapy since before I was a pre-teen) I know that a lovely individual of any kind shouldn't have to 'prove' her worth. But for better or worse, Husband saw today that I am quite capable of serious lawn work. I can hold my own with the 'big boys,' is I guess a way to put it.

The three of us, Mama, Husband, and I, cut down (Husband did this part) significant portions of our front tree and Mom and I cut those large branches down and I was the main person who lugged all those portions to our back fence and threw them over unceremoniously. Yes, I was proud of myself, because it wasn't a small or light task. I also got a great kick out of the fact that our neighbors across the street seemed a little amazed that a woman could or would do 'men's' work. (These neighbors are of a different culture. Nuff said.)

I also proved that a little exercise will not, in fact, kill me. Although my ears (BOTH) are in various stages of pluggedness, and I could hear my own breathing quite well, I really only needed to rest sometimes because of me poor back. I never even bring up my back issues to Docs cause I figure the true answer is: Lose some weight. I don't need to hear that again for nth time. But I finally had a decent appetite and I'm still alive and the perspiration and heavy breathing is over, so go figure.

As my birthday approaches, I find myself buying more stuff for Myself. Yep, I just purchased two Siamese cat planters, for a total of $cheap$. You put plants in them. Also, I have already set up for Myself to receive flowers for my birthday. Yes, I am having Hallmark send them to me. (I had yet another promotional coupon off the price of Summer flowers, and I thought what the heck, how many other Summer occasions will there be? Of course, I'd feel terrible if somebody died and I had to send some to them, but I guess I'd bite the bullet and pay full price. My birthday's a given, honestly, who prepares for death? Sheesh.)

I anxiously await my canning, casserole, and Weight Watchers books. Seriously. And I already received my clearance priced poker set (so cool that my Mom wanted to buy it off me) so I could get my free crank radio from King Size Direct. Its cheesy beyond all get-out but I love it. Just think, its the end of the world, no electricity, or even batteries and with a few cranks you can listen to the radio and get a small beam of flashlight for a mere two seconds. Imagine my joy. I think its very cool and it looks like the only emergency supply we own at the moment. All right, later Blog-itas and Blogger-erogers. I swear I'm not manic. Aint life grand?!

MmmMmmm...After midnight, Lettin' it all Hang Out!!

I don't know how long I will be able to type tonight, because I have taken my meds (go Seroquel!) and I am doing amazingly well considering my ear infection has now traveled to the OTHer ear. Yeah, both sides now plugged. Now do not use me for medical advice, but I am finding that Excedrine Migraine kills the pain nicely. In some ways its nice to have a plugged up head, I think I am more focused now that others are drowned out so easily!

Well, I talked to Dad in length this evening. Hi Dad! Although I have asked him not to look, I know he peeks online at me sometimes, I'm not really worried about it.

Now, I am sure the next paragraphs will look like one of my usual rants, but seeing as how I am unmistakably Bipolar, and this is my blog, and I do talk about Bipolar things often, and I am often reminded that this IS my place to write, I shall do so. I recognize that my Bipolar is considered more towards the angy kind, but really I think I am quite well regulated (thanks pesky meds!). At the same time, I think folks see a lot of 'angry' here. I recognize that.

Well, I promise that I don't want to do Scientology bashing (those poor rich idiots) but Dad (who, yes, I'll tell your secret Dad, is diagnosed Bipolar as well) tells me that these individuals put out a 'movie' where they went to the Psychiatric Community and asked such pointed questions as: "Do you have a diagnostic test for psychiatric disorders?" (As in, can you do a blood test and find out if someone's got an illness) and "Do you have a cure, have you ever cured anyone?"

To which, of course, is the same darn answer that we have been receiving: No.

I guess this makes them feel like something's been proven, and we're supposed to watch this 'movie' (uh, propaganda) and say, "Gosh, a somethin' IS wrong here."

Well, all I have to say is, Why do these individuals never talk to a person who has been diagnosed? Why do they obviously show their continuing intolerance of us by refusing to speak to a person who can show them conclusive evidence (all I would need is to procure my medical records) of the difference between a psychotic person who got brain chemically-changing meds and is just pretty darn ducky now, (besides being prone to semi-fits of anger/rage about dumb subjects). All of that applies to me, I'm describing me. I know bunches of more people who could talk about their experiences. If someone really wanted to listen.

Of course they are going to try to make everything look ridiculous by talking to the 'medical community.' WE don't like talking to the medical community. Imagine HAVING these illnesses and being told this very same crap for years. 'No we don't know why you have it, No we don't why or how this pill works, just take it, Gee we're sorry we couldn't have preventing this hell from happening to yet another one of your family members, we don't have a test.' We have heard it for years. It doesn't mean our issues and illnesses don't exist. It does mean we're mighty incredible for having continued to perservere and live despite incompetence, lack of care, mismanagement, zero desire to research our issues and come up with new drugs, intolerance, fear - YOU NAME IT!

I'm still hot on this topic, that would be the topic of stigma and intolerance towards the mentally ill, after seeing DatelineMSNBC last night. Yes, I did email a letter to them about it. Does that mean something about me? I do not know. But a man who had spent years suffering from Tourette's, a very extreme case, has brain surgery done to curtail it. Interestingly, they were going to operate near his hyperthalmus, which I immediately said to Husband, "That area has something to do with Bipolar." One day after his seemingly successful surgery, the man had a psychotic episode. Interestingly, his wife dropped him like a hot potato. I couldn't help thinking that it seemed like it was okay to live with this man, and their four young children, while he was having a physical illness where he was beating himself up on a daily basis, but she was NOT going to subject her children to any possible mental illness. PERhaps, I was reading too much into it, but he was living in a halfway house, without tics or severe self-infliction, and she still would not have him. As in divorce-ville.

I think even if you asked the wife if this was the reason she was divorcing him she would say "No of course not," BUT I think it is quite likely that she had the subconcious knee-jerk reaction that MANY people have about mental illness, "Oh that's not safe for the kids, "Or now he is really a piece of broken poop," or "That is just too scary for me to deal with." Why does it have to be that way? It is as though in mass amounts of humanity is EXPECTED to be ASHAMED of these issues, we are all as comfortable around it as having to discuss child sexual abuse.

I have even said before that the mentally ill and needy children are very much in the same category in terms of really being cared about it our society. Somebody, somewhere, started talking about cancer for instance, previously a very taboo subject, and we have reached an incredible, and I say healthy, age where people talk about it, walk and run in marathons for it, even put magnets and special license plate on their cars. That absolutely did not happen, even a few decades ago. I know for a fact of someone's grandmother dying of the illness because she would not even THINK of going to the doctor for such an embarrassing illness. How times have changed.

So you know precisely where I'm going with this. We need to bring this scary subject into the open. I think slowly people like Dave Chappelle, Robin Williams, of course Patti Duke are trying to just push that door open, not saying too much, not being obvious, because people are just not ready yet. So sad, when you see how little progress has been made for people to simply accept A) These illnesses exist, and B) If you get them, there is still massive quality of life to be had C) The stigma and intolerance is killing people. It has got to stop.

When are people going to realize that not all mentally ill people are drooling invalids just one step up from criminals. I think it may be uncomfortable for some to find out there are mentally ill with more education, nicer cars, bigger houses, happier relationships, or whatever, than themselves. I don't know how to stop this, the stigma. I don't know how to change minds, or if it can even be done. I know its not safe for me to tell people my situation. And I am tired of it. But just like all the everyday, pushing ahead, doin' my bests, I'll just keep going.

Because he's cute...and no, not mine...although I think someday about having one like this...

Ear issues continue, although The Elixir of Life aka my ear drops seem to be slowly helping. So do those doses of heavy painkillers (the OTC kind, never fear).

Not a lot to say, although if I were bent on being honest (sigh) I would say that there are tensions here at Terra (I love GWTW and my backyard, I often think of this name for it) since Husband sometimes gets upset when he realizes how little I do around here. For instance, today is a literal miracle day since I got up at 7:30 a.m. and have cooked me own breakfast, worked on bills and REMAINED in the upright locked position and not gone back to bed to snooze to ummmm.....a late hour.

Well, anyway, I'm feeling solidly nothing at the moment. I'm not quite used to what I 'should' be feeling this time of day, and of course, real routines have not been established. There is in fact so much to do that I think I must be shutting out the reality of it all since I'm not seeing it. I'm just sick of having one side of my head plugged up. Wanh! I know. What would I be, or do, without my pity party. Have pity party, will travel.

Here are two useful acronyms. I'm a centimeter stepper of a FlyBaby. This means that so far the only thing moving in the right direction is my mind, however that is no small feat. This stuff comes off of Flylady.net. This is the only place that I see so much of myself and she offers a cleaner home and body, peace really, if we have some PATIENCE, let go of our darn perfectionism and do a littlework, things will go better.

I just wanted to share that:

FLY(Lady): means Finally Loving Yourself.

And that we all have CHAOS: Cant' Have Anyone Over Syndrome.

I think we can all relate to this in some way. I'm not some FlyLady peddler, I don't think I've lifted anything in my house (I bet I tell you about it if I do), it's just that she gives me hope. And as mysti says on her site, that may just be what I need at the moment. Hope and faith that one day I will lift the burden of clutter right out of my house. Til' then, I guess I'm just cognizant, awake in a zombie-like state, at the moment. :)

This Just In...

Being the voracious little reader of MSN that I am (It's my homepage, hence all the gleanings of fascination I find from it) I read that Lindsay Lohan would like visit the troops. It turns out that Ms. Lohan fancies herself a potential Marilyn Monroe, who was a pinup, you know, and Lindsay has quote "always wanted to be one herself."

Shall I get ill now or later?

Please tell me, Ms. Lohan, that there is something, SOMEthing on this big blue-green Earth that you could do, I say, verily aspire to, than be a pin-up? So those days with Disney and the Parent Trap were mere jump offs to the most amazing career choice available for a person with your talent: yes, the Marilyn Monroe-like pinup.

Dare I say that Marilyn Monroe did not have a lot of career choices? Some nude pictures, a name change never did anything to stop the self-destructiveness and prison that was her persona. She wanted to break out, be taken seriously, even marry and quietly have babies, but that wasn't to be when you are the epitome of '50's sex symbol. No. That is sad sad sad.

That is why I appreciate Pink and her attitude in general (although she has a lot of puking to do to detoxify herself, I'll say that). She explained that her song 'Stupid Girls' was really out of the sadness about people just like Lindsay Lohan feeling the epitome of life is one of the most vacuous 'careers' available.

I have nothing against Marilyn Monroe, May She Rest In Peace, but hers was a sad life, whether she killed herself or the Conspiracy did it. If you can't make it right at home, you aint never going to be happy.

And you thought I only went on tangents about animals, MI, and my dang ear pain. Minions.

Baby-Whine Alert

Yeah, that would be me. My right ear malady is officially Swimmer's Ear and thanks to pain relievers (aspirin, at the moment) I'm fit enough to blog. It hurt people!! It's still swollen, but thanks to seeing the Dr. and waiting for the good stuff at the pharmacy, I have drops, which I treat as the elixir of life.

I came home from all this, and yes, got my Mama to put drops in my ear for me. Eating at the time was excruciating. I had gone to Wendy's to get my favorite meal du jour (the Spicy Chix sandwich, Caesar salad instead of fries, and a Medium Diet Coke (a modified number 6) but it turns out the only thing that doesn't hurt as much as trying to chomp down on food is: you guessed it, sucking on a cigarette. I had to kill time before going back thru the pharmacy drive thru and I was hating life. Pain, I tell you, did I mention it hurt?!

I am the opposite of Enigma. I recall her saying clearly that she has a high tolerance to el paino. Let me say this. I stub my toes all the time. I ignore it, though I can say occasionally I'd really like to sing, if you know what I mean. But clearly, I am not up for too much more. This adds an additional interesting thought to my whole why I may not, should not bear my own younglings. I'd probably show up, way before the actual push-push time, and demand whatever they've got and NOW. Oh, and could they find another way to do it than stick a needle in my spine? I hear that hurts too.

Now, what could have caused this vicious Swimmer's Ear, Tart, you ask? Well, I have gotten in a pool a total of two times this summer. Last month, doing my best to never go under (having gotten my hair colored just days before, I mean really) only to have Husband dunk me under (believe me, I made it difficult for him. But I tired.) and it seemed immediately I had issues with my Left ear. Hunh. Lots of Peroxide and Q-tips seemed to have staved off the apparent inevitable, cause that ear is still okay.

No, I think it was my one time 'dip' into the RV park pool during my 'vacation' I told you about, about two weeks ago. Again, I did not dip my ponytailed hair into the water, but I guess some of those pesky bacteria found their way in. I did take a shower afterwards. I asked Doc today if you can get this from showers and he said No, it really had to come from a pool, because there is not enough bacteria in simple shower water.

So all of this makes me feel like the virgin or non usual sexual person that has sex AND procures AIDS. Man, one time deal and look what happens. Or the woman that merely needs to be touched and becomes with child, scenerio occuring every 9 months. Oh, Tart, you say, that is a bit much. But really, when your ear frickin' hurts you get creative. I thought of these things while waiting for my ear drops. Gimme my dang ear drops. And don't be skimpy with the Motrin. THANK you.

Facts About Medication for Bipolar (Manic-Depressive) Illness

It occurs to me that there might be people honestly looking and trying to figure out which meds work best for them. This is entirely circumventing the whole discussion of whether bipolars needs meds. The answer is: If you have been hospitalized for your mania, whether just whacked out fun mania or gone to the next level, psychosis, yeah you need meds. For the rest of you, you might need meds too, listen to the Force Luke, what do your insides say. I think when were talking about mental issues, it is helpful to listen to your voice within. In general, I find my voice within is more intelligent than that of the pompous individual who has gone to school and uses books and that sort of thing: the simple person known as psychiatrist. I have learned to gently remind these folks that I am in me and am so much more than a guinea pig for their pharmaceutical industries and the pharm. rep quotas. For all I know those vultures, (pharm. reps), are offering cruises to Bermuda to our most trusted Doc-tas, the psychiatrist. That is a sickening and reprehensable trade, those pill peddlers. They're just kids and don't give a holy damn about people, yes, once the again the poor sick mentally ill. Here, Dr. so-and-so, prescribe this to the shmucks and you win a free tote bag with every other prescription filled. C'mon Dr. so-and-so, you Know you want it!!!!!

Okay here is the low-down. Just what you have been waiting for. What are the effects, the mere side effects for medication that will return you as close as possible to the mental stundedness of the average human being? Anyone want Jimmy Stewart's Harvey the Rabbit? Cause he certainly shouldn't be allowed to have it. (I'm not knocking the desire to kill true psychosis, its the bane of Earthly existence as far as I am concerned. Thank God, for drugs to eradicate that: Down With Psychosis! Stop the Beast! I say) Alrighty, heeeeeere it is!!!!

Lithium: Basis of any decent treatment of Bipolar. Makes you even. Pretty much that covers it, however, Modern Science has NO CLUE as to how it works. True, Mr. Kurt Colbain, this stuff is a salt, and will naturally swell you up. Don't think about it, just take some more. True side effect: Makes you fat.

Depakote aka Valproic Acid: My additional sidekick to the trusty Lithium. Makes you even...mmhmmm...even. I take lots and lots of this stuff. The basis for all my meds, lets call it Bipolar Candy. True side effect: Makes you fat. MMMMmmmm...FAT.

Over the years, I've had different sidekicks to my Lithium: Tegretal, and uh, other stuff (memory loss is a given in the Bipolar). Well, Tegretal is way old school. It's, like, for seizures and stuff, but it werked real good fer me. That was, like, the late 80's, early 90's. So retro as far as Bipolar pills go. I've had so many darling.

Okay that was my mood stabilizers up there folks. Not to be confused with antidepressants. Oh no, you do not want to give the tender, moody, paid my dues and know the difference Tart any of those antidepressants. That's how you separate the depressives from the fun m/d's : I took anti-depressants had just the littlest bit of alcohol: Poof!! Instant mania, rocketing right into psychosis!! Thank you, the idiot who prescribed that stuff to me.

So, mood stablizers are the happy stuff that keep you even. And Fat. Did I make that abundantly clear?

Onto the scary stuff, the anti-psychotics. I must have one every night. We all know that. I was on Thoriazine for 15 years, starting at the tender age of 16. Bad, bad stuff to have a teenager on, and continue on for so long. I have had to take as many as SIX pills just of Thoriazine, darling, at one time, I assure you at night, to knock my monster out. Oh, the fun, the joy darling, what I could tell you about life in the mental hospital and the blessed Outside, taking my glorious mind bending (they were bending it back the right way, ya know) meds while being lauded as both creative and crazy (when WILL I be lauded as creative? Hello. Still waiting.), yes, Lord, that is the life for me.

So anyway, I'm on, like Seroquel now, instead of the Thoriazine. It's like, okay, but, I get these mongo cravings to eat at night. Upshot: It makes you FAT!!!!!

Oh, and dear Friends That Are Searching: Do not, repeat, do not, touch that blasphlemy that is Zyprexa. Repeat: ZYPREXA BAD! Holy cow, talk about gaining weight, that was like a 2 pound weight gain a week. I know because my psych. actually weighed me, all the time, and TOOK ME OFF IT FOR WEIGHT ISSUES ALONE. Yeah, they are being sued for turning people into diabetics too. No touch that stuff. I hate it. The therapist said hold onto it as a prn (take as needed, sheesh, don't you read medical crap?) you know if I got depressed again (the whole thing was started because the bitch, I mean psych., in the hospital put me on it. This was my last mental visit: First time I ever checked myself in and still knew my name the whole time: in other words I went in for the depressive side.) . In fact, I have held onto the stuff only because I do not want to put undue, horrible chemicals into the sewer system if I flushed it down the toilet. Seriously.

Alright. So you see, a good responsible Bipolar gets to know their drugs and know completely the right mix of them. (Which proves they are smart because, its really something to see the mixing of the meds.) The main thing to remember is that meds make you fat. This could be counteracted by exercise, so there is always hope.

A-Live and Kicking

Survived one of those dreaded so-called 'social events' - the party before a wedding and the subsequent party after. Gotta love people with enough money and relatives to pour into double events like this. Tart, being bipolar, does not enjoy events with lots of people where the only ones she knows are simply because of familiarity and not even because she likes them. Long story waiting to happen.

I also got subjected to another weird event: a person from my husband's high school past pumped up on rum and whatever else, as well as information about us provided by husband's supposed best friend (do not get me started on this individual.). In other words, despite the fact that I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with Ms. High School Band Ho, there she was, knowing my name and getting awfully excited to have met my prescence and later spewing information that made me very uncomfortable, things that people that have known me forever would never say, yet she's grilling and talking about them, Tacky Piece of Sh*t. So, she being apparently blasted (and with the kids no less. Apparently, she likes those "We'll take care of the kids while you get blasted" parties. Classy.) I cut her a break and was far more charming than she ever deserved. But when she started in with the 'when are guys going to have kids, oh, I guess you're practicing on your dog' and 'oh, don't feel bad, we practiced on our dog, too' THAT was it. Over. I HAD NO response for that, and luckily Husband wanted to leave so I still said, "bye" to the wretch even as she was tongue tied and trying to say she was sorry. Pathetic. What causes a person to marry, have two children, yet not be able to overcome some burning need to hook up with old high school mates. And I wasn't kidding about the Band Ho thing. She literally was, so that's not ever going to put her high up on the list of people I want to hang with. The neediness the inability to even think of having her own life, its just horrible. I sensed it BEfore I ever met her, and meeting her just made it that more obvious that I have many, many, many times a dead-on sh*t detector. Period.

Yeah, so I could on about that one for a while, but I won't. I am tired. I have some issue with my ear, as in its swollen, even in the Eustacian tube and I may even have it looked at. Shocking I know, actually willing to see a Dr. for it.

Emma had her 3 year birthday yesterday, and we were so tired and recovering from 'festivities' that we did not do much for her, except to sing to her.

Today, potential serious problem was averted. I was going outside and Emma would not come out because she was too busy sniffing stuff on the floor. So I said the heck with her and closed the door. It occurred to me that I have closed her in with the cat, and she can't really get out of that room like the cat can. So, I open the back door and there is the cat, very pumped with adrenaline and obviously in an altercation with Emma and HE WANTS OUT. I squashed him back with my foot, because I cannot take losing another cat out my back door and finally he ran out of the room inside the house faster than I ever saw him move before. Outcome: Big chunk taken out of his gorgeous forehead. I don't get mad at Emma because I know Reese starts most of those things.

I'm Baaaaa-ck! Respond.

Okey dokey. Back at the console, returned from vacation. Went to a supposed highly rated RV park with Mom. I knew that if I felt claustrophobic aka 'wanted to get away from Mom and her pug puppy (she is adorable)' I could just go outside have a smoke and be fine. The only problem with this was the 'Parade of Golf Carts', not only going by in front, sometimes behind, and even Next to us as they cut through the non-used site next to us. I kid you not, it was a constant stream of people, especially in the evening when it was a little cooler. Of course, we went and rented our own little golf cart and had some fun tootling around looking at sites, especially the residential types that were really cutely decorated. But I don't like staring at others, and we did this during the day once when everyone was inside trying to stay cool.

Tart hates to be looked at. Especially when I'm smoking. I don't drink at all and I like to smoke alone. Could be a George Thurugood song, I know, but its true. I'm not a social smoker, mostly because I don't like people in general and I have no desire to 'look cool', I hate being judged for any reason (and that's all people do), and I usually try very hard to do it when kids aren't looking because it really is a bad thing.

So I guess I must share one the things that happened shortly after we got to our site. It was late and I can't believe that there were kids all over the place, but there were. I had a little bag of trash and the puppy on her leash, smoking a cigarette, and just walking a very short distance to go across the road and put the trash in the bin and go right back to the RV.

So as I turn around from completing this, two kids are getting ready to roll by, I'd say about age 9 or 10, one on a bicycle, the other on a skateboard. The boy on the skateboard is saying mean things about dogs, he apparently sizing us up, but I don't say anything because I didn't really hear exactly what he said and he wasn't saying it to me directly. But then he rolls up near me and says, "Don't you know that smoking is un-heeeeeal-thy" in a very smart ass tone. Well, I'm standing there thinking, Oh no, I am not going to let some kid just speak to me like that and not say anything. I am an adult, and I don't care what he thinks of me, he needs to be respectful, period. So, I thought for a moment and said, "So is being a little jerk! And he rolled on.

Now, Tart, you may say, that does not sound very mature of you but in fact I openly claim my pride at this incident. You see, there was a time in my life that I really would have felt like I just couldn't say anything back, a time when I would let a kid mess/bother whatever you want to call it - and actually take it. I also felt proud of myself that I used the word 'jerk' which considering other choices, is pretty innocuous. I was and am proud, because in the smallest of ways, I stood up for myself. I didn't deny that smoking is unhealthy and frankly being a little jerk (smart ass) can be quite unhealthy, 'cause if he doesn't stop it someone someday might just pummel him for it. Definitely not a healthy circumstance to be in. So I was in fact educating him, as well.

On a totally different note, I have rediscovered one of my favorite things to do. Now, hold onto yourself here - I started playing my clarinet again. Yup, its one of those eccentric little talents of mine and it really gets me fired up. I have much capacity for improvement, that's for sure, but that is one of the things that makes it great because that means lots of practice and I love to play.

I started playing clarinet in 6th grade and was even First Chair in 8th grade. That means out of 7 or so other clarinetests I was numero uno, which means I definitely played 1st chair music and assumably I could have solos, although I don't recall ever having one. I stuck with it through 12th grade (yes, Tart was sooo a band geek. I loved it.) I did try out for the band in my college, but I was rejected (its true) so I went on to other things.

I am in love with my clarinet itself. From way back in 6th grade to 11 grade I had a plastic rental Selmer clarinet that by the time I got through with it, the cork was gone on the bottom set of keys so I was using dental floss wrapped around a million times to keep the bell on the poor thing. My parents bought me the crem de la crem of clarinets - a Parisian Cinnamon (that's the model) Buffet clarinet, all wood and a thing of beauty. This thing could have partially financed a semester of college and I will never part with it. I would never sell it because of sentimental value and because I can still play it and with it I always have a fine and perfect instrument.

What renewed my joy is shopping in a little music store in NC and buying a bunch of music. They now have fantastic technology that a CD comes with your sheet music (I'm a very good sight reader, but not very much a person who plays just from hearing music) and you can play along with a complete band. I had no idea how much fun that was going to be until I popped the CD into my computer and started playing with it. How FUN!!! They definitely did not have this when I was a kid! My favorite right now is "You've Got A Friend In Me" yep from Toy Story by Randy Newman. I was so taken aback by how jazzy it sounds, and I ALWAYS WANTED to be in a jazz band, that it is just the funnest thing. So now, I quietly tell myself maybe if I got good enough, I could be in a jazz band with my original instrument, the clarinet. (I tried even to learn bass guitar, just to get in the jazz band when I was in high school. I must tell about that sometime, if anyone cares.)

I am doing well and things are even-keeled around here, which is just the way I like them. I think I'm getting a big break mood wise because its summer time, sunny and all that. I was thinking huh, I've been in a decent, normal feeling mood for a while now. I think I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop and I figure for sure that will happen about Septemberish when my SAD hits full force. I'll keep you posted. :)