Packing Day

I had a psychiatrist tell me, “if you don’t gets 8 hours of sleep, you’re going to die! I dumped his egomaniacal ass. But I set up 7 hours as a goal. #GodBlessFitbit

First off, my resting heart rate sitting here is down almost 20 from when I was home planning this.

I was 10 minutes short of my goal, but look how rare that is. Since I was shunned (shit on), cuz blood apparently is not thicker than water, I’ve worked hard at not working constantly. 

If Fitbit’s benchmarks are viable, I slept great! 

Why is REM Sleep Important?

REM sleep is important to your sleep cycle because it stimulates the areas of your brain that are essential in learning and making or retaining memories. According to the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke, a study depriving rats of REM sleep significantly shortened their life span, from two or three years to five weeks. Rats deprived of all sleep cycles lived only three weeks. The importance of REM sleep, in particular, is attributed to the fact that during this phase of sleep, your brain exercises important neural connections which are key to mental and overall well-being and health.

And I nailed my deep sleep phase, more than the spectrum of old people.

Reasons?

1. Fresh air.
2. Gobs and hoards of exercise.
3. Indica variety of THC.
4. No f*cking drama.
5. Firm air mattress, 
1. Lest we not forget; too often, when I wake after 4 AM to pee, I create my own drama about not being able to get back to sleep. #SelfFulfillingPhrophesy

Is this my brilliant, yet addled mind, (by using THC daily), an excuse to continue on along this vein? AA cultists say it is. Sure, whatever. Those are the same people who said I was “addicted” to my bipolar meds so not “sober.”

To those who live by a zero sum game... I’ve seen “recovering addicts” with shelves full of vitamins, pain killers, etc. 

Is my dependence on it viewed differently when I’m in Oregon, where it’s legal? I’ll tell you the difference between having a dispensary a mile away and buying larger quantities,  but only wasting it when you have that ounce. You don’t have to clean your pipes, (smart heads buy pipes where the resin is easy to extract), or get down on your hands and knees for your last pea-sized bud that will just top off the night, cuz it’s all you have until you lean on family, etc. to stock you up with more large quantities. InOregon,you buy the equivalent of a nice bottle of wine. When the 1/8 oz. (28.35 grams) you don’t rush out to buy more, (unless you are a true, addicted pot-head), you/we feel a bit of withdrawal, and get over it.

Or we don’t get over it and the hair of the dog is the quickest remedy. 

"Hair of the dog", short for "Hair of the dog that bit you", is a colloquial expression in the English language predominantly used to refer to alcohol that is consumed with the aim of lessening the effects of a hangover. [or strung out. Or bored]

If they sold a 2-pack of cigarettes, it would not increase the amount I smoke, I could have those two in their branded drug delivery systems, and be done. Okay, a withdrawal but I don’t have 18 of those Marlboros staring at me, sayin, “Light me, you nicotine addict. You know I’ll make your day miserable if you start jonesing.”

SIDE NOTE: Smoked my last one this morning. I’m jonesing but don’t want 20 of them.

With all my mental, chemical,physical, etc. nuances, I slept like a champ!

My morning didn’t start out pretty. I have a “portable urinal” I used when I broke my leg. 

I then used it to eliminate the 20 minute ordeal it involved, compounded greatly when it was below 40°, to get out of my sleeping hammock, fly and mosquito netting included. 

There is one problem with leak-proof, what happens when it overflows? I found out this morning. Reminded me of the countless mornings, all the way through sixth grade, when I had to tear the wet sheets off my bed, put new ones on, and make sure I did it surreptitiously so they would blame Mark.

Packed up, fixing things as I go, and next time gonna build back better. 

My final salute to Minnesota values. I had this song blasting when I pulled into my home. 

[Click on Image]

After the Storm

I’m without words. The bittersweet feeling that I had such a great time, I wish I would’ve been able to share it with their parents. I probably overstepped and sending them the pictures with the #WhatYouMissed2021 

Oops

It wouldn’t have been the same with them there. Let’s just say there might have been some booboo’s, self-inflicted, compounded by Olive’s need to excel, where she might have cried with huge alligator tears, “I want my mom.” Whatcha gonna do? I couldn’t  move in for a hug, I’m sitting backwards on the front of Bark, (His name is written in the sides). If I did that and we all three went in? I think I bribed, or made Mia try it as penance for made rocking Bark while Olive was standing.

And it was cold when the wind came up. 

Oops.

On my agenda is to prepare a red velvet cake, like they do during the emancipation celebration and Juneteenth celebrations. The old fashion way, wood coals.

You have to buy the wood here, keeps from spreading some disease. I won’t pay $1.50/chunk so pilfered the two neighboring campsites, who bailed early, and got me $15 worth, like the retired solo campers are bound to do. 

I was going to use charcoal and Girl Scout juice but my son in law, Ben raised the stakes with the rhubarb pie, and ice cream, for his own birthday. 

No thermometer, so I’m winging it.

 Some coals on top, raised above the others...
But does it tastes as good as it looks? (I didn’t make my own frosting).

It was so good, I had seconds. 

#IKnewThatWouldHappen

 I kept telling them to put clips on the chips cuz it was 82% humidity. Nope, all the opened bags are stale. Hmm.... casserole meat! There are a lot of stale chips. 

When you have lemons, make lemonade. Or in my case, a beautiful pancake from this morning, carefully preserved. Add tuna salad, cheese and lettuce and it’s a tuna fish pancake!

Scrumptious.

I still have breakfast to use the stale chips. 

Saturday morning.

Got 5 hours of sleep, it sprinkled a bit last night, and woke to a lovely 54°. Our day at the beach has been postponed. Just started raining now, and for the next 22 minutes. 

Let me bring you up to date: 

We were going to meet up here with the Bells and Fischers. Before coming, I texted Aaron and asked what his plans were. Said it wouldn’t change mine, but need to know. He said they were staying Sunday night in the Dolphin. 

The weather started changing the plans. 

Not one to doubt others but Jess says they can’t stay overnight because of work on Memorial Day? And she seems quick to cancel, or at least her part in it. 

Family dynamics at work here. I plan a Memorial Day & Ben’s birthday celebration, outside, which implies last minute changes. Diane sums up her enthusiasm (NBD) and sides with Jess, who then TEXTS Aaron to see what he wants to do?

Aaron, trying to straddle the fence, leans toward total cancellation. At this point, Jess has already planned on dumping the kids on me. Ben and Steph are coming anyway. 

I missed the texts saying, “We still need to drop kids off to camp though.” 

Am I reading too much into this?

Olive and Mia, dropped off at Pop-Pop’s summer camp. Works for me.

I also missed where it was getting annoying. I annoy Jess, she has a hard time even being around me. But this text thread is annoying? 

What does one do when a loved one finds them annoying, or at least difficult to be around? Or at least just not on any lists of top five friends? (Dwight & his insurrectionist buddies).

I’ve tried to put myself in others’ shoes in this regard. How would I treat a guy I just did not like, but came to family events? For sake of this exercise, let’s call him Jimmy Markey, my former broker in law.

1. So, what would Jimmy be able to do to win me over? 

• Not be so annoying? 

1. Would I be on the lookout for anything that could be construed as annoying? Even texts?

• Sure, I’m only human. 

1. What if Jimmy invited me over for a little one-on-one time? What the hell? 

• Would I eventually go, to make him feel better? I just don’t like to be around him. 

This is how I perceive that my youngest brother and oldest daughter feel about me. What can I do about it, tell Jess, “I’m not as annoying as I became during lockdown.”

Jess doesn’t respond to my texts in a timely fashion, has been postponing my virtual request for some time together. (Wanted to make it a date to watch a Timberwolves, (season ended) or Wild game (season has since ended, after 6 games in Stanley Cup Playoffs). 

I fear that Jess didn’t know Aaron said they were camping Sunday night. I use the word, fear, because if they start to crumble in their communications, like Nama and me, they’re in for some toxic times.

But the text thread, trying to alter the plans due to the most updated forecast, which had changed in the last few days?

THIS FEELS ANNOYING?

What can I do to win her back? What can Jimmy do to win me back? 

Not much. 

At this stage, Jess went from cancelling even coming out, to canceling sleeping over, but now, in the middle of this, all these texts coming at me fast, the girls are staying overnight without heir parents?

And on top of that, when they are packing the kids off to play in the water with their Pop-Pop, you would think they’d toss in the kid’s kayak I bought them? That’s just some passive aggressive bullshit. And if no thought was really put into it, cuz I’m Jessica’s Jimmy, it’s just sad. 

ON THE POSITIVE SIDE: Having the girls interrupt my silent retreat? It was heaven. 

I’m not ready for prime time in my interviewing kids. 

Next morning 

I got 5 hours of sleep. We all shared a huge double sleeping bag on my queen sized mattress. We were on a slight slope downward so we’d have to shift back up a couple times. At 4:30, Mia wakes up and says, startled, “What is that noise, Pop-Pop?

“It’s a huge train with a loud whistle,” I laughed. “What did you think it was?”

I think she wasn’t fully conscious. 

Up at 6:00, and W&B in giddy anticipation of what was in store. Olive wanted to buy leeches and go for the walleyes. She listened as I teased the two local cops who claimed there were walleye in there but nobody is catching them. I said I was gonna buy me some lee he’s and I know where they are. (I was showing off to Olive, talking to cops nicely and all. #JusticeForGeorgeFloyd

“I want to fish with leeches,” she said. “But they’re scary, I don’t want to have to touch it, okay, Pops?”

Mia was reading a chapter book. She had three hours or more of reading. I’ve never been prouder. She was diagnosed as dyslexic a couple years ago and the white privilege that allowed the to have one of the best tutors is what others are jealous when it falls our way? Are we not supposed to “bask in the glory of white privileged?” Well, that’s extreme but you get the point. Plus, she now loves to read!

6:54 AM While writing in the car, Olive wakes up, finds me and gives me back my glasses. “You staying up?” I asked.

“Nope.” And she scurried back, across the wet grass barefoot to sleep. 

Olive did not want to get off this thing, asked if she could paddle out past the buoys, alone, and is amazing to boot!

I took all the seats out, and it’s like a cargo van. But with two passengers, Voila! A tucked away seat! 

When you solo camp, you just don’t feast like when you have two girls who’d rather have lovey bait than good, all American breakfast.

Mia taught this old man what good, crispy bacon is, and it’s good. #Bravo Mia!

Giggle Happy Day.

I got on the water at 10:00, caught a half dozen perch, then switched to the paddle board about 12:30.

I don’t know how to use my paddle board. But that didn’t stop me from paddling 7 miles of the 7.5 mile shoreline on my butt and on my knees. It’s that new med, it makes me feel six-pack drunk. But I see a time in the near future that I’ll get the balance back and love it cuz surfing down the backside of major waves is groovy. 

It was so fun I was giggling. I love when that happens. So I made a video for mature audiences only. 

Then I came back and made my vegetarian Alfresco pasta with ham, corn, green beans and onion, cuz I’m saving the hotdogs for tomorrow. 

Day 2

 It was 41° this morning but perfect, other than the barking dog. Went to bed early, falling asleep to miss the end of the Minnesota Wild’s loos to the Vegas Golden Knights in the Stanley Cup Play-offs. I’m supposed to take my new Rx and a Neurontin in the morning. I accidentally took my evening pills, including melatonin and my lamictal. 

Oops. 

Early nap? What will I take tonight? I’ll steal a melatonin from my pill box. Here’s why I can’t get back to sleep. When I wake anytime after 4:30 cuz I have an overactive bladder, if my mind starts racing I can’t get back to sleep. When I have literally no drama, I’m left worrying about getting back to sleep, and that sucks. 

I’ve used the Black Forest twice already. I think I’ve gone from giving that to the Bells to loaning it to them when I’m not using it. 

It would be an understatement to say we are camping close together. A couple boys were practicing soccer and using my tent as a backstop. That was better than playing keep away by dribbling around my tent ONCE. Yeah, I’ll play the curmudgeon if it means saving my tent from a couple prepubescent soccer prodigies. 

I forgot to bring coffee so I was off to Holiday by 6:00. Tried to have a complete cigarette. 0 for 1 today. 

Morning dew was loveley..
Ive added some photos to Baker Recreation Cemter. I’ve gotten more than 150,000 views of my photos of Lake Auburn. The pressure!

 

I found my f*cking radio in my fishing vest. I looked in almost all the pockets three times.

Oops.

Did a W&B at 7:30. Going for meditation attempt #2 (a whole cigarette, with a favorite song chaser.). Going for it... NOW!

I did it! I reached for a better set of headphones, and almost set down the cigarette, but succeeded in almost focusing. I thought cigarettes and music would calm me down. (Heart rate 78). 

Gonna clean out just one of my pockets in my vest. In the marines they emphasize redundancy. (Or is that the astronauts?) but I don’t think three tape measures is required. And I’m not going to wear masks anymore, and these two don’t fit anyway. 

 I try to listen to the lyrics of a whole song. I’m 0 for 1 on that. The song was Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Lauren Hill. Theresa tried to sing that to me in 2011, driving along I-680. She made me cry, (happy cry) when she got embarrassed for forgetting the lyrics on the second verse. 

I have 4 backup chargers, can’t find two of them. One is probably still in my vest. 

The goal is mindfulness. In the here & now. I found pop can crafts with a good cop show like NCIS. Anthony Dinohzzo is the character I watch. He is always joking but he’s Gibb’s wingman and always has his back. He reminds me of me. 

Fishing for bass, casting under the trees, is another way to achieve mindfulness, if I have a podcast on, like Conan or Rob Lowe, or Alec Baldwin. Robe Lowe knows everybody, has been everywhere and is just a cool dude. Now listening to Matthew McConaughey and Rob Lowe. Mindfulness. 

Why I Smoke Cigarettes Medicinally

 I was labeled as having ADHD. My own personal test is to try to take a break along enough to smoke a whole cigarette without getting up. The first pack I bought, I was 2 for 20, i.e. I only get through 2 in one sitting. 

My second pack, Marlboro Reds 100’s, I fared a bit better. See? Medicinal. My strategy to defeat the conscious inability to sit for a two minute break? Don stop for a smoke, just keep going. And there is my goal, smoke less with little breaks, my body will know when to take a break. But nooo! My mind won’t let my exhausted body rest, and the battle ensues.

Wake n Bake.

When I roomed with Roger in college we had a thing called B.I.B.s, (bongs in bed). First person up, introduces the other to sit up in bed, and have a B.I.B. 

When I went to see Mark, it was Wake & Bake before we put our bodies through hell, the only breaks I would try to take was to sit through a cigarette.

. I got 6 hours and 40 minutes of sleep, but was up at 5:30. Futzed around, drank a French vanilla double latte, looked at the monumental task ahead, realized I had 9 hours to pack, smoked up a bowl, and had a whole cigarette in one sitting and my resting heart rate is 73. Last week it was 83 - 86. 

One for one in the sitting still category!  I smoked the whole damn thing in the secret garden. 

My list

Tune out and tune it. It’s vacation!

 I went to babysit the Fischers, Roger, 2 YO and Lydia will be 4 on June 9th. It was 47° and raining but Roger has a simple method of persuasion. “Car...car...car...Peppa... car... car...car...car...Peppa... car car...car...car...Peppa... car...”

“Wanna go shopping?” I asked, to shut him up or add a few more words to his repertoire.

“Yeah,” he said, jutting his hands in the air like he’d won the... he beat me. But one of the absolute coolest things about being a grandparent, (and ask anybody who is), you can give into that crap and spoil the hell out of them. “Shopping... Car...car...car...Peppa... car... shopping.”

“Wanna eat something first?”

“No!”

“Lydia, let’s go shopping,” I said, hiding my sardonic, pleasurable expression in letting him have his way, without feeling a bit guilty about it, but Lydia’s had a lot more practice.

“Lydia, come on, let’s go.”

“But I’m watching Blippi,” she said, without even taking her eyes off the TV. 

“ Car...car...car...Peppa... car,” Roger chimed in. 

At Target they don’t have the fabulous two-passenger carts so Roger fidgets in the seat, grabbing everything he can reach, and Lydia walks in front of the cart. Not 4’ in front, right in front. And when we get to another aisle, she tries to anticipate what aisle I’m heading to next. She has such an eidetic mind, she probably was being modest by not taking me directly from the pickle relish to the tiny Cokes.

Target went off without a hitch. Then to my favorite store, Five Below. I swear I’m batting 1.000 when I ask Minnesotans if they’ve been there. 

“What is it?”

“Everything in there is $5 or less. Except for some electronics, those are up to $8 or so.”

When they can get a word in edgewise, they say they thought it was a winter clothing store. Well duh.

It went well, in fact pretty fun.I don’t treat stores like libraries so I let them run free. Then I’ll holler, “ROGER!” and then I bark, “Heel!”

Lydia is trying real hard to pick something, ($5 or below cuz she’s too young for electronics), because she went out of there with some toy the cashier laid on her about it being a collectible, like Beanie Babies. Jerk. I got what I wanted, some pee pads for my cat, and kept telling her, “It’s okay, Lyds. You didn’t get a good toy last time either..”

I’m not whispering this, she’s two aisles over. I avoided the electronics aisle because my Costco credit card is already up to $2,100 and that’s all I’m taking home.

Oops.

It’s vacation, so f*it.

I’m almost out the door of Five Below with Roger, but Lydia is back at the far register, gawking at some impulse purchase, exactly where she bought that non-collectible last week. “Come on, Lyds,” I say loudly, because she ain’t budging. “Come on, we’ll get something at Dollar Tree.” 

And she started throwing a tantrum; full on tears. And Roger takes off to the right as I get stern with Lydia to my left. I see another grandma in line, (I could tell cuz she knew I was secretly having more fun than imaginable), and I say to her, and a few other stragglers, (it’s the Dollar Tree, they’re all stragglers), “It’s like herding cats, ain’t it?”And I’m in my leather cowboy hat, hair almost down to my shoulders, and going on 3 hours sleep. My bet is they were relieved a guy like me wasn’t an asshole cuz a lot of guys who look like me are. 

So anyway, we get into the Dollar Tree (Everything in there is a dollar or less. Unlike Dollar General or Family Dollar. Maybe that’s what they should change Five Below’s name to, Five Dollar General. 

Lydia starts to cry again, wanting to go back to Five Below. Full-on tears, and I’ve got the one liner cocked and loaded. But Roger didn’t want to be in there either. They wanted to go back to Five Below, but I wanted to buy one more set of Bluetooth headphones, but I didn’t have the money. So I told her to stop, or we were leaving, and she didn’t stop so we left, got in the car and drove back to the Fischer’s. I have no experience disciplining a boy this age, but a 4 YO? Been there, done that. In 8th grade, Steph’s idea of a good time was to have me take them shopping. At Target. We’d holler across the store, “Steph, why kind of Kotex do you want? Is that by the toilet paper.”

 It my little Steph I’ve won the award, and that game was retired. She got on her belly right in front of the cashiers line and slammed her fists and kicked her feet and threw a faux full-on tantrum. 

BRAVO STEPH 

Seven Years Later.

Some things change, some remain the same. I still have trouble sleeping and I'm still adjusting my meds. I was doing pretty well on the Lamictal alone, nothing additional to sleep except 10 mg of Melatonin. But environmental forces were working against me, and sleep has been hard to come by. 

So my shrink put me on Carbamazepine (Tegretol) 200 mg. More drugs, more side effects.

WHAT ARE POSSIBLE SIDE EFFECTS OF TEGRETOL?

Common side effects of Tegretol include:

• nausea,
• vomiting,
• dizziness,
• drowsiness,
• dry mouth,
• swollen tongue,
• loss of balance or coordination, or
• unsteadiness.

What are the long term effects of carbamazepine?

Long-term treatment with carbamazepine can cause osteoporosis and osteopenia (increasing your risk of breaking a bone).

I already have dry mouth, dizziness, and loss of balance and unsteadiness. WTF? And I just bought the best Stand-up Paddle-board (SUP) on the market!

 

I also tricked out my Sienna to fit that and the fishing kayak I've modified greatly.

I also bought a trailer for my kayak. I can lift it over my head and carry it like a canoe on a portage, but this way, I can put all my stuff in there!

I've been busy! But I'm not sleeping, why?

Environmental influences:

1. This year would have been the 5th year I went up to the BWCA to fish with my youngest brother, Dwight. Instead, he went with his Georgia buddies. I pleaded with him, said, "Blood is thicker than water," (an old family saying), but he didn't budge. He thought it would be a good substitute to go on July 14th.
   
   Dwight has been going to the BWCAW since '97. He knows where to go, and when to go. It's Ensign Lake the week before Memorial Day. Reason: Less bugs and more fish!
   
   So, that set me back. I went all manic rants on him and his Georgia Trumplet buddies in a creative, and over the top thread. I deleted it because I don’t want to know what I said. I text things I later cannot believe I extend. Worse than that, sarcasm is not viable by text, especially when I’m not being sarcastic. I guess they didn't want me to gloat in the trip? It would have been the last time I’d be going with them, just saw the light after I felt betrayed. The saddest thing is that Dwight, (a.k.a. Ginger), has no idea how much it hurt, or the really hurtful feeling, he sort of bought my way the last four years as ballast, or charity.   
2. I just didn't make Dwight's top 5 list for his trip. He'd paid for my trips the last 4 years, so I probably overreacted a bit when I Venmoed $1,800 back to him with the simple statement: I don't want your charity and my name is Stephen, not Beaver.
   
   
3. Dwight has lambasted our older sister, Cynthia, for her actions way back years ago, when she took Dwight's daughter to NYC. The trip was a disaster but the biggest thing to come out of it was that, according to my niece, Cynthia said to her that her dad, Dwight, was gay.
   
   
4. Cynthia was out in Oregon with Mark last week and I decided, if I'm not going to be a hypocrite, I better get to the bottom of this as well. That didn't go well. But Mark described behavior of Cynthia's, like hugging complete strangers DURING A PANDEMIC, and being way over the top as an extrovert. Takes one to know one, our sister has Bipolar II disorder. She's been self-medicating for decades, i.e. total pot-head, and I skirted the issue but the main thing I guess I was trying to point out is that she's a liar. 
   
   
5. I called Bob and Mel and whined to them about Dwight. Then I asked Bob if they'd been vaccinated. And I quote, "If everybody else gets vaccinated, I won't have to." He then went into a diatribe about his sister in California says don't do it!
   
   So I sent a text saying if he won't do it for me, he should do it for America. 
   
   
6. Excited for the weekend! I'm going to be glamping for 4 nights, Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday, through the Memorial Day weekend, at one of my new favorite spots, Baker Campground. I'll be alone Friday and Saturday, then the family is all coming out Sunday, and the Bells are going to stay that night.
   
   This will be my version of Nomadland, in that I'll be out there with all the rest of the campers. Okay, not at all like it but I'll be camping and my list of activities include, but not limited to:

1. Fishing
2. Paddle-boarding
3. Biking
4. In-line skating
5. Cooking
6. Making Pop-can crafts.
7. Yeah, I'll be busy. And I'm bring some dope so I'll probably be high all day, everyday cuz, you know, vacation!
8. My insomnia happens when I get up to pee, and can't, or simply won't go back to sleep. It was dominated by Dwight and my disappointment in him. Not just the act, but his inability to even acknowledge my pain. Then along came a couple days of Cynthia dominating my mind.
   
   This is a sleep chart showing something that might be interesting. That night I slept 6.5 hours was the first time in exactly two weeks that I smoked dope. I smoked a lot and grazed on all the pogey bait I could shove down my throat. I woke yesterday and, unlike that last year, where the longest I went without smoking was 5 days, I didn't crave it. NOT because I didn't want it, but because abstaining for awhile makes the buzz much better.
   
   When I was smoking everyday, the euporia was temporary and basically the first buzz of the day. After that, a waste of money to just maintain a mild buzz. But in my defense, being stoned kept the demons away. My mind was cynical about everybody and everything, and nobody deserves that, including me.

1. 

Best of times, Worst of times

On Friday, October 3, 2014, my mother died at 6:05am. I was going to go down to see her today (October 6th) with Jess and Steph. She was in a nursing home and refused to eat or drink or take an IV a week earlier but I thought hearing we'd be coming down would mean she'd have something to hang onto awhile longer. I guess it's not all about me.

Twelve hours later Stephanie and Ben Fischer became husband and wife. He's a good man and they're a good couple and the day was tarnished a bit by the news of my mother but I held up pretty well. I was awakened by my sister Cynthia at 7:30 that morning and was told the news.

The first one I told was Peggy,  Then, while working out at the club, I decided I better tell Cynthia not to tell my ex, Diane about it, to spare Diane having to keep the secret until I could decide whether it would be better to share it with Jess and Steph.

At 9:19 am I texted and asked Cynthia not to tell Diane:

"Did you tell Diane? Let me decide when to do that, being Sxteph's wedding day and all. Thanks for taking care of all this. Love, Stephen."

 It was a moot point. When I finished working out we received a group text from Diane at 9:54 am:

"Thoughts and prayers with all of you and ur family. She was a great woman and I have so many find memories of Melba. She will be missed."  

I guess I could have expected that. Maybe Cynthia was right in not letting me worry about whether I should hide that or not but it should have been my decision.

The funeral isn't until October 18th. That's good and bad. Closure put off until then? Whatever...

Labor Day

Worst summer I can remember and Labor Day is Minnesota's official end of the summer season so good riddance

I don't go back and read past posts but I guess I should, they'd show a pattern. Once again Peggy has taken it upon herself to lash out at me and declare herself free of the evil nature I was put in this earth to spread like a deadly virus. This sort of came out of nowhere, as her fist text states:

Honesty without compassion is brutality so I could have handled that truth better about tomorrow. [going to her brother's].   But we are back to our old games already and we have to figure out a way of communicating when we are apart that is respectful and reduces uncertainty.  We shouldn't have to have synced calendars to say good night and good morning to each other like people who care for each other.  Why is that so fucking hard? I don't want mystery and intrigue.  I want to sleep soundly.

I tried the calendar sync before the last break-up, due to my memory issues, so I am confused and she's showing she's coming unraveled. But I was not going to give her the satisfaction of some two way text fight that seems to get her rocks off.

I asked her what it was that changed so much since she had just spent the weekend at some spiritual retreat:

Which part confuses you?  You told me on Friday morning that you understand why I run from you...because you are fucked up.  I do not want to be with someone who views himself as fucked up and even proud of it.  What are you doing to change that perception of yourself?  I just found all the recent stuff you put on Kickstarter to get funding for the lesbian porn novel again and the Rat Killer where you trash me and my alleged Adam's apple.  You sound insane.  You sound crazy on Twitter.  You are writing a public blog... bipolarmisadventures?  You sounded insane on POF in May.  Was it the drugs that you told me you changed and didn't that caused you to do that or is that really you?  Who are you now?  What do you want? Can you tell me?   Because I don't know.  And how in the fuck can anyone feel safe with that?

She was back out there online with her manic inquisitiveness. And I could have addressed any and all of these allegations, like whether I even changed meds, but these are her issues, namely trust, so I just let it slide.

She says she's OCD but this seems more than that. I find it fascinating and try to not take it so personally but if you throw enough shit against the wall something will stick. I'm almost 60 years old and I drive a bus so yes, compared to the other successful retired men she's been dating I'm fucked up. But she told me while she was with them she said, 'he's not Stephen.' Maybe I am just her booty call. And my body is hardly keeping up with those physical demands of driving this damn bus so we will see how long this job lasts. 

So, blah blah, she even sent me that above crap at 3am...

Then this afternoon I sent:

You have once again attacked me as if to be fighting back. Fighting what and whom?

I thought we had broken the pattern. Good luck. 

And she got the last word in:

Yay!  No money, no prospects, no soul, no memory, no conscience, no friends, a shitty car, a lying mouth, a preying dick and boring and glum to beat.  I think the grocery clerk would be doing you a favor.  Knock yourself out.

And then...

Free at last!  I am free at last!!

So I just texted my latest version of closure ...

You will never be free. You're free from me if you don't respond but free from your mind's delusions? 

Again, and I pray I have the strength this time, good bye.

Now what? A new season, another chapter, more resilience and a new twist, exercise. I do better with exercise.

She told me this blog wasn't even private anymore? Oops. 

My Body is Not Cooperating

I'm in pain. I've been swimming so I can't begin to imagine what I'd be like without that but let me document it here.

• My feet are in bad shape from that metatarsalgia crap. I ice them and have the gel insoles but I can hardly walk when I get out of bed in the morning and am walking like Walter Brennan by the end of my shift.
• I am not healing where I fell over on my bike a couple weeks ago. In fact, that's worse.
• My left wrist is now in my wrist brace I use for typing. I don't know what the hell happened to that.
• My right shoulder is coming in at about six out of ten on the pain threshold. 
• My upper back is about a four out of ten.
• I'm feeling a new level of pain that concerns in my lower back, like the makings of a ruptured disk. That's coming in at six out of ten and when I say six I'm saying that's a long way to go to be to a ten. When I feel pain at the eight to ten level I can hardly breathe.

All this is making sleep difficult and my mood less than jovial. Fuck. And now, as I type this, I'm contemplating going swimming. I'm in a depressed mood and am thinking maybe I'm working my way up to needing the endorphins to elevate my mood, which is a good thing if I continue to exercise. But my wrist? I'll worry about that when I finish swimming. Fuck.

Saturday:

I spent the afternoon with a woman I tried to find an attraction to but it just didn't work. I'm so glad she didn't invite me into her home, by rather to her address, and we rode around St. Paul and then I said I was simply not finished with the closure aspect of the last one and not ready. That's probably true but I'm back out there on POF anyway, go figure. The initial back and forths keep me occupied throughout the day while working, if I have a job. I sort of pulled too far ahead and the train crossing bar came down on top of the bus on Wednesday. That's not goo, huh?

Wednesday:

The death of Robin Williams hit me hard and the follow-up news hit me even harder. Not a word, a hint, a mention of being bipolar. I think I heard the word "mania" but I didn't watch much either. Jimmy Fallon used his whole show to pay tribute and on and on. So, I took to Twitter for my chance to make a difference with the likes of Matt Damon, Ron Howard, etc.

How cool would that be to just be retweeted or "Favorited" with a star? Of course, my delusions of grandeur got the best of me imagining me being called to talk on the phone, or invited to be on a talk show like "Ellen" but then my nerves took over and I have to go swim now. I'm up to a mile but my body is a mess. My shoulders are pretty bad and I don't know if that's from swimming or driving. I still have that pain in my right knee from falling on my bike and there's a pain of unknown origin in my left knee and hip. I changed positions on the couch and am sleeping the other way, with the board for support no longer supporting my upper body? I dunno, I just know I need to work out now.

I'm off tomorrow! Babysitting Mia but no plans in the works yet. Seems as though more than 24 hours is not possible with Stephie. We should take the canoe again since summer is almost over. Stay tuned! 

Back to the fishing pond

I'm back on POF.com. I even have a meet-up date in a few hours. She might be just what I'm looking for; a Scorpio, self-employed, funny, and a "floater" between kids so she can spend time with the grandchildren. Currently she's here in Eden Prairie. She has another in Colorado and hates Minnesota winters. We'll just have to see where that takes me. I've already rationalized where that would fit into my schedule and my goals for at least the duration of the summer.

I sent her a message while on break at work There I go again, writing too much. Will I ever learn?

Read your bio again. I really like almost everything you say in it. Okay, don't wonder, "what do you mean by almost?" I don't really think there is anything I don't like that you wrote but I'm not THAT transparent. Gotta have some mystery or what good is this early phase? I'm by far the world's worst at taking it slow with my feelings. What's that make me? Hopeless romantic or desperate? :-)

(Gulp) I'm new to talking to strangers on the phone. Be gentle. 
S

She wrote back, and I don't know if she's being serious or not:

New at talking to strangers" ....is that your way of saying I'm strange? Do you not like me? Where is this thing going? Geez, I'm a wreck and we haven't even talked. Oh, well, I'll call anyway. Going out to Whole Foods now. :-)

POF.com = Plenty of Fish.
I don't know what I want to come of this anytime soon, I'm sort of gun shy, but how can I not enjoy seeing a profile like this from WellAlrightyThen?

Wanted: sidekick, confidant.. partner in play! Someone who is ok meeting on the fly for happy hour, a round of street tennis, extreme goalpost golf, bowling, tubing or a game of chess … My trunk is a toy-box! (yeah yeah, pull your head outta the gutter )
Trunk inventory: tennis rackets & balls, a 6 iron, leathers, hiking boots, tennis shoes and flip-flops, floaty chairs (w/cup holders), towels, travel chessboard, sunscreen, bottled water and trailmix. (And that’s just the front half.)
I heard back from her and she said we could be friends. She's up in "Friendly Fridley"

Then there's the type who just take my breath away. Like this other Scorpio, trapped out in a city west of the Twin Cities.

Someone that likes to laugh and enjoy life and is comfortable just "being". Someone that I'm attracted to, but not in a plainly physical or sexual sense, but because I like to be with them and near them. 

But they can't even come up with their own words? Bummer

If you steal, may you steal all of my sorrows. If you lie, may you lie all of the nights of my life beside me. If you cheat, may it be death that you cheat. Then I will know I found true love.

I googled the last part, and she stole it from somewhere but so what? You know me and those Scorpio women, or you should. I fear and admire them at the same time.

The bottom line here is that I can read these profiles and exchange messages and it keeps my self-talk on what is now becoming a pretty routine job more positive than wondering what personality a sad, sick person is going to display that day. Who needs that?

Where's this all leave my feelings and my brainwaves? It's stressful meeting new people. And so soon after such an attack on my very soul? Okay, not my soul, but trying to shake the foundation of how mentally healty I am can have an impact on my self-awareness and make me self-conscious. I talked with Jane on the phone last night for about an hour. She has a great voice and cute accent. She asked me what my book was about so I told her about "TBTBF," not "Rat Killer." I do learn some things from my mistakes.

What about the concept of having more than one female friend? Of course, my libido says more than one intimate friend, but is that so wrong? We're not children here.

My first quarter ton pick-up
I picked up Joy at the library. She was my last ride. She was squeezed into her over-sized chair and the first thing I did was think she had literally shit herself. The seatbelt extender wasn't big enough for her. And when I got her off the bus I had to peek to see if she had left a shit stain left behind on the seat I'd have to clean up or at least report. She was at least 500 pounds and it was so sad. But even sadder is how I'm struggling with not judging her. Sure, maybe she has a thyroid problem, but I couldn't ask, could I?  "Is this condition your fault or a medical issue out of your control?" And she was bigger than this photo.

And she has a nice face but I could not get past the fact that she shit herself. And she was going for sympathy the whole time. I called dispatch and convinced them to let me drive by the mobile home park she's shopping so she can get out of her dad's dining room. That meant 45 minutes with her instead of eight. According to her and her sympathetic story, her dad has COPD and falls on the floor every night, in the middle of the night, going to or from the bathroom. She can't help him and it sounds like he stays there until her sister comes to get him the next day. Her 23 year old daughter is HIV positive since she was raped at age 14 and she has a glandular problem that caused her weight gain? I'm thinking it's anxiety and depression, but who am I to judge or diagnose? She says she used to do stand-up comedy until, "I could no longer stand up." and she has a leg that had frozen up completely under the weight but now can move 54 degrees, whatever that means. She says it means that maybe someday she can drive again and "when that day comes again I'll cry," she said. I helped her get her wheelchair into the kitchen and she plopped down in the chair and said, "See? This is the only place I can sit until I get my own place."


What am I supposed to say to that? I knew there'd be days like that. Not to be sarcastic but I think by "the only place to sit," she might have included not being able to sit on the toilet? It was bad. It was quite a way to end the night.

Meanwhile, back on POF
No reply from the two above so I turned up the wick. I spent a lot of time on my profile. What do I want to portray? My sense of humor of course. And my writing skills. Anyway, here's what I have today, Friday.

_________________________
About Stephen
The job I have now is sort of like semi-retirement and soon will be four days a week. After decades of anxiety-riddled sales, I'm helping people, like getting paid to volunteer. What a concept. I meet everyone from 95 year old WWII vets to people who were homeless crack heads, and "saved" when diagnosed with cancer. It humbles me and I NOW TAKE NOTHING FOR GRANTED.

But sometimes when I'm biking around the lakes listening to my fine-tuned Pandora station, and I see a little old octogenarian lady hobbling my way, [i] (They share the bike trails now with the high water), [/i] knowing she's just one misstep away from months of physical therapy and taking opiates that make her higher than she ever can remember, (knowing all she could do to break her hip is reach for her last Bell last jar of pickles she'd ever can,) I am tempted to holler, "Get a job, you're hogging the trail!"

I've been to London, Dubai, Barbados, Hawaii, and 49 of our United States. I wish I was into digital photography then like I am now. But capturing that perfect photo moment after dusk on a glass smooth lake from the porch of a cabin (no mosquitoes in this dream) with a best friend is where I want to travel next. [b]Summer's half over! YIKES![/b]

[i]My downfall? Hubris. I always thought I was smarter than everybody else. Turns out, I'm just smarter than the Republicans.[/i]

1) I can carry on a conversation with all sorts of IQs. That doesn't assure chemistry, but it doesn't hurt. And chemistry? Duh??

2) When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? Did you appreciate that moment for what it was, i.e. [i]a perfect moment?[/i] Is there anything better than laughter?

3) Honesty is not just a virtue, it's a way of life.

4) If you suffer from jealousy and the destructive suspicions caused by jealousy, save us both the grief, I'm monogamous if it gets that far.

5) Viewing the "Viewed Me" page and then not getting returned messages is not good on one's ego, huh?

6) I don't actually converse in bullet points, but I do organize my thoughts in that fashion.

I woke at dawn this morning to the sound of the city. There's something about hearing the light, intermittent din of city traffic in the early morning hours that makes me smile and feel glad to be alive and healthy. I rolled over and saw an empty pillow next to me. It had an impression left in it as if placed there by an intimate friend and lover from times past, but it was just me and my pillows again like so many days and months before. I fought the urge to feel lonesome again, like so many countless mornings before this one.

Is that what I've worked toward my whole life, to wake next to an empty pillow? Not bloody likely!

Then I started to think, "Don't I have something to offer just one special someone or will I always be making designer coffee for just myself? Who will laugh at my musings first thing in the morning when nobody else is around? Who will get to use the bathroom first? Will I have to start gargling when I use the toilet at 4:30 am just in case you want me to wake you with a kiss?"

Then it hit me, "Why the hell do I have THREE pillows on my bed? Even if I did have someone special to occupy one of my empty pillows, that other empty pillow would still haunt me."

And no, ladies, I do NOT have throw-pillows, bring your own damn throw pillows. Better yet, let's sleep at your place. The city traffic is fine, but sirens at 6 am? City life can be overrated. 

Let's discuss the elephant in the room. I think sex is stupid and I've done a lot of stupid things in my life. But sometimes I just feel stupid. I'll probably even die doing something stupid, like texting while driving. I never said I was a genius but don't try to say you don't do stupid things once in awhile either.
___________________________________________
First Date
We make no plans for a next meet-up until we've said good-bye and parted ways. It takes away the awkward pressure to lie and say, "Hey, this is great, let's make plans."

In other words, don't take this all so serious, it's just coffee to see if chemistry is there.

Then, the second, (or third) date? I haven't been to Duluth for a decade. Really, maybe longer. And don't get me started on the North Shore... I lost all my pictures of Duluth, gotta start over. Summer's Almost Over!
___________________________________

I've been getting some nibbles with that profile. But what then? And the meet-up? I went a bit far with one and then she asked ME to get together and gave me her number. There is no physical attraction. I'll blame Peggy for that. I put up with psychotic with a body, what did that get me? A goal, that's what. How about the whole package?

Sunday:
I had a horrible conversation with a woman Friday night and addressed it Saturday, which made it even worse. She said I was being defensive and even combative in the conversation. In my defense, she started out implying that when she heard I owned a camera with ONLY 6 megapixels she didn't want to have our first meet-up a free photography lesson. Then she went on and on and I finally said, "Take a breath."  I guess that was the combative part. The pertinent part of mentioning that awful person here is that it hurt me to be rejected like that. Nobody likes that sort of rejection. I felt a need for some Buspirone but fought the urge and worked through it.

While bored at work I got one of those messages I hate getting, from a profile without a picture, and read her profile.

About Me

I don't have any hobbies or goals or aspirations. I am addicted to TV and junk food. I abhor physical labor and exercise. I am looking for a man with no redeeming qualities to spend my final days on earth with.

Well, that's hilarious and it was fun all evening:

And she continued to amaze me with her wit. She's 49 and widowed, poor thing... Says she's a homemaker. Who knows? Who cares? She makes me laugh.

Update on POFJustLooking:  She quit responding after I asked, "Do you like leather?"

I spent two hours on the phone with another woman, a blond, hilarious, successful, never had kids, and a real estate agent. I think I have one coming back in town this evening from her cabin up north. We sort of have something tentatively set up. Good thing because I'm ready to dive in head first with the real estate agent. The whole conversation was great, and we didn't hog the stage, laughed, asked follow-up questions, etc. Does it get any better than that? LOL She lives near where I work so that could be convenient. She's not a morning person though. Guess we'll have to work on that.

It's 9:00 in the morning on a Sunday. I've been up for two hours, eaten, shaved and dressed for work. I'm going to go swim and head in to work. Is this my routine? Sure, for now.

I'm finding something else interesting about my new life. I don't have to have noise at all times. It's been just me in silence this morning. Maybe that'll help me in some way? More focused? I dunno, that's why I write these things down...

Update on the realtor: 
She's a drinker... Been there, done that. And her photo is NOT what she looks like, it's four years old and she hasn't aged well. She saw that micro-expression of disappointment when I first saw her.

She knew it and sent this message after not hearing from me:

Hey, Stephen, 

Great weekend. Amazing amount of talking. Incredible to share that much... in that amount of time. Wow 

Also seems we ran into enough glitches to know that we are not growing a relationship here; but we did establish a pretty decent connection. I like you, Stephen; and obviously trust you, have entrusted you with a lot of my personal stuff. That would not happen if I didn't see you as a truly good person.

Glad we met. Glad we talked. 

I'm not slamming the door on communications here. Just putting out there what we both already know.

That is not to say we can't communicate..... just a different direction.

Be safe... especially while driving the bus.

Gayle 

So, since I see no reason to tell her she's a drinker, I wrote her this:

Gayle,
Ever ask yourself why a guy who was making well over $100,000 a year as a pharmaceutical rep was divorced twice and driving a bus to help disabled? I have Bipolar II disorder, those passengers are my fellow peeps. It's not as bad as Bipolar I, those people are crazy, get hospitalized during manic episodes or off themselves during the depressive cycles, and stories about their condition end up on "Law and Order." But I get myself into trouble with my sarcasm or just get "off-balance" and wind up weirding out whoever I'm working for. That's the premise behind the two books I've written. Fictional auto-biographies about the battle with the fucking Rx drugs. I was on one for 14 months and then developed a lovely condition called suicidality that was so rampant and so obsessive I could not even get out of bed without going through the whole litany of suicidal thoughts; who's coming to my funeral, what will they say, etc. And it was Seroquel causing all that suicidality! And on and one and on. So, the last woman I dated from POF was also bipolar but otped to use AA and NOT her drugs. I could have written a book about that BP I. Whacked!

So, I'm out there just meeting people that are great like yourself. It was rude and the timing sucked regarding meeting that other woman but it was something I'd only tentatively planned and thought I better not stand her up. Bad karma...

In other words, like that Seinfeld episode, "It's not you, it's me."
Take care,
Stephen


It could have been that she saw the micro-expression in my face that showed disappointment when I first saw her. Or she read it here in the blurb on first dates I updated after meeting her:
__________________

FIRST DATE
It says "FIRST DATE" and it should just be a meet-up.

This is one of the more difficult things I’ve been involved in since my divorce. But the alternative is to grab the next one who comes along and try to make it work? Nuh uh, let’s not go there.

Phone calls can be deceiving and raise the expectations and increase disappointment.

This first date is not a fix-up by a co-worker, family, or friend, (somebody we can blame when it doesn't work out), or asking somebody you already know to have a cup of coffee, it’s flying blind, and solo. That's a risk we all must take.

Sure, there’s a profile and some photos but anybody can show their best side in words (copying and pasting though? Really?), and have an old/altered photo whereby the first real encounter elicits, “Wow, you’re not like your photo(s) at all.” [And that can go both ways. I know I looked MUCH better ten years ago, who didn't?]

If I am to find my next partner, and hopefully my last partner, on POF, what will the first date have to be like to know this is finally, (and we all know what weight the word “FINALLY” carries), the right person for me?

Maybe the first date should be in two parts:
1) The first part of the first date should be exactly five minutes long. (Smart phones have timers).
a. Come on, we saw the micro-expression(s) when we saw each other for the first time. (Post a current photo!) Did we feel betrayed by the profile photos?
b. And what if I/you bumbled on the first four questions I/you/we asked/answered, and we interrupted each other two times?
c. When the five minute timer goes off we should then each go to our cars and drive out of the parking lot. Then, if we want to extend the five minutes to either a potential relationship or potential disaster in the making, we circle and land and call it the truly, really first date.
2) The second part of the date helps us with, “I STILL don’t know what I want for sure, other than my cake and eating it too, but if we like each other does it matter for a few more dates, until I/we can sort that question out?”
3) Then there’s the etiquette of who writes what, and how soon, regarding whether there is to be a second date?
Fun, huh?
_________________________
I changed this again, it sounded too cynical:

It says "FIRST DATE" and it should just be a meet-up.

It says "FIRST DATE" and it should just be a meet-up.

Maybe the "first date" should be five minutes long. (Smart phones have timers). 
a. Come on, we'll see the micro-expression(s) when we see each other for the first time. (Post a current photo!) ? 
b. When the five minute timer goes off we should then each go to our cars and drive out of the parking lot. Then, we circle and land and call it the truly, really first date.
Fun, huh?


I'm not a therapist, but I play one online:

Thank you Stephen. I know you mean well. I've been going to grief counseling for quite some time and stay stuck between anger and bargaining. Anger at the whacks that put him on the PTSD meds that killed him and regret that I stood by and let that shit happen. More than you need to know...huh? It was a mess. Part of me is relieved that I don't have to deal with it anymore you know? Part of me wants to put back in the tape and start over. Part of me says I will never find someone to love more than him. Part of me wants to move on.

I replied:

Thanks for sharing, I won't meddle further. But the meds and the quacks who prescribe them? I have bipolar II disorder and the hell I've been through with the meds? 

After 14 months on Seroquel I became so suicidal it was the only thing on my mind the moment I woke until I went to sleep. I was getting free samples and the PA who was giving them to me was out of town so I ran out and voila, the suicidality vanished. When he got back I emailed him and said what was going on and how little I was sleeping? He said, "maybe we should increase the dosage."

Then side effects from other combinations, like the sleep walking, the shakes, rage, memory loss, hallucinations, (entertaining until they scared the hell out of me) and going psychotic when I lost them all at the same time in 2007 on a plane flight... Rx drugs, and those who prescribe them,... But enough about me. I'm doing fantastic now, and suffer NO SYMPTOMS but that's why I'm driving a bus. My hypomania (not as bad as full blown mania) cost me one job after another from my erratic behavior. That's the full story on my dealing with my sarcasm. What sort or trouble can I get into driving a bus? Well, other than an accident...

So yes, I mean well. And you didn't "let that shit happen." I was not owning up to what was going on and loved to blame others but the actions I took were mine alone. "I take nothing for granted" is a quote in my profile. And now YOU know why I say that. It's not as cliche as "I'm happy to be alive" but I am. The ONLY thing that kept me alive was not wanting my mother and daughters to hate me. I was THAT close every time I saw a bridge abutment, oncoming traffic, or waking the fuck up in the morning. But it was nobody else's fault, and wouldn't have been, because I didn't call for help, I was too macho to admit my "weakness." 

Let me help if you think I can. There's no turning back now, you know more about me than I should tell before six months of dating, but hey, you're different. Then if I can help you, that would make me happy and isn't that what is all about? Then your making me laugh would help me in return. 
Stephen

Then I got a short one from her, paraphrasing: "I've met a lot of pricks in my life but you're a fucking cactus. I'm going to go out and do something stupid now, don't wait up."
__________________

Is this worth the effort?