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?

Striking a blow for my sanity

Endorphins and other stuff

I have been swimming pretty regularly. I used to do a mile (72 lengths) with flip-turns, non-stop. I'm up to a half mile and my upper body is killing me. That's only about 20 minutes so I'm not sure I'm getting that runner's high. It feels good and I weighed in this morning at 178.

I had a mishap with the bus yesterday on my second call. I was feeling groggy, having skipped swimming for a day, and getting about six hours of sleep the night before.

I did it by the book. The impact was like I took down a pillar at Cub Foods but this was all I did. I filled out the report, etc. Damn, I need to drive more carefully and being more alert has a lot to do with it so I'm off to the club to swim.

It's over with Peggy again. That'll mean less stress for me and moving on with my life. I promised I wouldn't write derogatory things about her here and now I understand her need for that pledge.

In a broader sense, those who use AA as a religion are never comfortable with any form of prescribed psychopharmaceuticals. I did that abstaining for a couple years and I can attest to the fact that while I was in a hypomanic phase, which lasted for months, I was the last to know I wasn't acting within the walls of mental normalcy. Of course I blamed the brilliant woman I was living with, specifically her inability to get me to listen to her while her concerns were escalating. Then my boss at worked threatened to fore me and asked about my meds, which at the time was ironic because I had bragged for months that I was squeaky clean. I was exercising so I know now that I can say how great I'll feel swimming but I know now, July 16th, that it would be wrong to quit the one Rx med I'm on. 

And that brings me back to AA, the religion, the addiction, the radical fringe factions hat give the good groups a bad ne and offer excuses for far too any druggies and drinks to get help.

I'll put another spin on it. Here's some sort of rationale sent to me out of context. It is the total reason I am not the same as an alcoholic:

"Writing involves fantasy; alcohol promotes fantasy. Writing requires self-confidence; alcohol bolsters confidence. Writing is lonely work; alcohol assuages loneliness. Writing demands intense concentration; alcohol relaxes."

To them drinking does all these good things, but to a person who is creative during manic or hypomanic phases it is 180 degrees different. Substitute the word "mania" for "alcohol" and you have any of is pegged.

"Writing involves fantasy; mania promotes fantasy. Writing requires self-confidence; mania bolsters confidence. Writing is lonely work; mania assuages loneliness. Writing demands intense concentration; alcohol relaxes. [okay, mania does not relax at all] 

I can safely say virtually every woman I've been in a serious relationship with had been an alcoholic. What's with that?

"Paychology Today's" list of manic sptims can she'd light o why somebody might want to be an alcoholic vs mentally ill. I've been accused of being a multiple addict, sex, alcohol, drugs, chats, etc. give me a break, they are all part of the manic state. 

What to Look For

In the Height of Mania:

• Increased energy and restlessness
• Excessively euphoric mood
• Extreme irritability
• Fast thinking
• Inability to concentrate
• Difficulty sleeping
• Poor judgment
• Increased sex drive
• Abuse of drugs
• Aggressive behavior
• Denial that anything is wrong

Sounds like some crossover there, huh? So, would it be same coverage another alcoholic? What's it gotten me so far?

What to do, what to do...

I got it, I'll break my promise!

Damn the torpedoes, full steam ahead. Peggy is me without meds. She's my inspiration to stay on meds. She messes with my head.

Here's her latest "Dear John" letter:

I did block you on my phone but not email.  I did not appreciate you stopping over and pounding on my door unannounced ... that type of behavior is frightening.  I talked to my close AA friends and my sister and they asked me to tell you that they have no desire to engage you in a conversation about me on any level.  So you should stop asking me for their contact information.  Their view is that your erratic behavior of late is caused by your once-again abrupt unsupervised medication changes (Trazadone, Benedryl, Buspar, Lamictal, Depakote and whatever else you are/were taking) in the middle of new job, financial, family and relationship stressors and the resulting withdrawal symptoms.  You are projecting your anxiety and fear onto me, calling me mentally ill and causing me undue stress.  As I told you many times, I cannot be with you while you are self-medicating.  You call your diagnosis bipolar (which we both know was originally concocted by Sarah) - I see it as multiple addictions (sex, booze, pot, pills, chat)  that have never been addressed properly through treatment.  Your denial of your addictions has lead you to a lifetime prescription med use that has fried your brain.  I think you said your mother "flies with the geese" from Xanax or whatever else she took - well, so do you.   I sincerely hope that some day you realize that you do not know how to live in the world as an unmedicated person -- because you never have.  You can not do that on your own.  You need help.  Unfortunately, my survival instinct says to run from you or you will pull me down with you.  I love you but won't destroy myself for you.  I wish you would contact your brother, ask for help, and have him commit you for complete detoxification and treatment.  That is what I would recommend.    

I left your stuff in the garage.  I cancelled the club membership but you have until 8/8 to use it unless you send me back the card key.  I would appreciate you just dropping it in the mail to me because I know you don't have the funds to pay me now.  That would be the right thing to do.  You can set up your own membership when you are able. Goodbye.   

One week BTW

I've been B.T.W. (behind the wheel) for a week now. I could do bullet points as to how it's been; exhausting, boring, humbling, fun and low stress.

I've been humbled by some of the people I've met. One woman slipped on the ice in January or February. She suffered two broken legs, one broken arm, and the other sprained from trying to push the city bus off her, which came to within inches of crushing her. I think that's what she said, the acoustics in the bus are not conducive to great conversations. She's still in a wheelchair.

The busiest road in St. Paul, I-35E, is under construction, so getting around that is a pain. I have to count on the GPS voice directions constantly and I'm afraid that's keeping me from learning the streets, literally. I'm using that excuse for not knowing the roads in a week because of my memory issues.

I quit the Buspirone:
I think my sleep is improving and I'm now more than 24 hours off the Buspirone all together, and am just fine! I think it had me a bit numb to the traffic decisions I have to make. On the other hand, Buspirone can decrease the side effect suffered from Depakote of itching. I've been itchy, especially in the evening, so we'll see how that plays out because I can't take Benadryl, it's on the no-fly list. Why not just keep cutting drugs out of the regimen until caffeine is a thing of the past as well as any OTC pain pills?

I'm swimming! 
How would I do this? I'm swimming! Peggy paid for my membership to LA|Fitness. I used to swim a mile non-stop with flip-turns. I'm up to a half mile with flip-turns and my shoulders are hurtin' for certain. I'm experimenting with when to swim. Last night I went to a club a couple miles from work and wasn't out of there until about 10pm. That made for not being sleepy anytime soon afterward but so what, I can sleep late. Well, in theory I can. I woke at 6:00 and did manage to sleep again until after 7:00, then did an 18 mile bike ride.


I took one day off instead of two. My lower back felt like the early stage of a slipped disk and my right shoulder felt like I had a pretty severe strain. But I'm exercising and off to the club now. That should take care of it, right? I'm not joking, that should take care of it. Swimming is the best exercise I ever did and I do not understand why I quit swimming since about 2000. But that's looking back and I'm moving forward, blah blah blah...

I spent several hours with Mia and Steph and had a surprise guest, Jennifer, Jess's best friend since two years before kindergarten. She told me what treatment to use on my feet. It's not the same treating metatarsalgia and that heal pain thing but it felt good so I'm going to get a squash ball and continue on my regimen.

We played the "Dora the Explorer CandyLand" version of and when Jess got home Mia wanted to play it again! I told Steph and Jen to go along with my being assertive and sure enough, Mia was tired of playing after her first turn. We all worked together and she liked it! So, off to Goodwill I went and got the "Dora the Explorer Chutes and Ladders" edition. It was half price on toddlers items at Goodwill so I got it for $1.59. At Amazon.com it's $31.00 plus shipping!  I love G.W.

I had a couple temporary tattoos so we put one on Mia's lower back. That's when I learned they're called "tramp stamps" so here is my Mia with her tramp stamp:

And the other tat went on her belly, of course:

N.A.D.M.

N.A.D.M. means "never a dull moment," which is my life. I woke on this holiday and had a goal of taking no Buspirone. I was getting to like my self-talk in that there wasn't much negative crap rolling around my head. But I decided I better check my checking account cuz I was on thin ice there. I mailed in my rent check, which is $720. I have my internet bill coming out automatically for $36 tomorrow. Oops, only $703 in my account?
WTF?

Peggy was hiring me to do some work around her place, first installing a shelf, and then painting. I told her I was a bit tight and would it be possible for me to put in five hours and have her deposit the cash in my account today? She didn't like that.

Here's the interesting part. I was looking at my payment history (which I never do, but Peggy asked me to), and "DietKing" showed up for June 27th for $74.99. I didn't catch that, Peggy did.

After more than an hour, three phone calls, etc. and taking not just half a Buspirone but a whole one, I'm back on track. I came home to capture the moment and then I'm off to swim and then to paint.

She saw this weakness in me, i.e. my anxiety when I try to handle my finances. She is going to help me with it, and that's a concern. I don't want her to feel resentment for that later. But I need help, or do I? Is that enabling me? I dunno.

We're going to ride bikes downtown at dusk after she gets back from a pool party while I'm painging. I have $18 dollar coins to my name that Mark gave me for Christmas. I don't want to borrow money from Peggy. But maybe she'll buy me something to eat downtown.

I'm really that broke.

My first week day driving alone!

I start work today at 1 pm. My emotions are many and varied. It’s been a week since training so even the basic stuff, like pre-trip check-off and how to do the online manifest are all but forgotten. But I’m on my own, good and bad.

It cut short my "vacation" but we had a great time Sunday at the Pride Parade and Loring Park afterward. Actually, the parade sucked, but I'm not a big parade guy. The festival afterward was fun and we took our bikes down there so Peggy loved that. I wore my diaper bag vest and they were handing out beads so I fit right in.

I told Peggy it would be like PG-13 Halloween but it was way more tame than that. I kept laughing that I'm gender challenged, so I wasn't sure why this person was getting such applause, other than great abs? 

I promised my "steady girlfriend" I wouldn't write about her but we revised that in my mind to mean I won't write anything derogatory that I wouldn't share with her, or more appropriately sharing things about her that aren't true, or slanted negatively, depending on who I was writing. I say this now because I had a great weekend with her, and have great times with her all the time, both at home and out and about. 

Meanwhile, back in my head:

As for my progress with sleep, I am getting a lot of it. In fact, I became quite used to, or dependent on naps. With the 1:30 to 9:30 shift we’ll have to see how that works out. My caffeine intake is more than at the end of my career with Nissan, and I have to decide how late I’ll be taking my last drink, which will most likely be soda like Diet Coke or Diet Mountain Dew. I'll play it by ear and make sure I'm not tired, not that I'm worried about it. But the naps, a rare thing for me in times past, are something I could get used to. Last night I slept about six hours and that was on top of about two hours of napping yesterday. That is HUGE progress in that arena. 

The money situation is precarious. Two weeks with no pay, (the original scenario if I would have had to wait until they assumed it would take), and I’d have been in rough shape. One week out or work still sucks, and an offer for about ten hours of painting at my girlfriend’s house for $15/hour will help but still cutting it close. I also get to hang a shelf for her, so I'll be diligent and put in some hours and make the financial worries dissipate. They're not going away anytime soon. My car has overdue repairs in the hundreds and I am nowhere on how to tackle the educational loans. All this job is going to do is make ends meet with less stress.

So, how am I feeling? Hell, I’m somewhere between scared and nervous, or is that anxious?  Yeah, that’s the ticket.

I better overcome that anxious feeling quick, and I’m sure I will. I need to be completely safe and alert while driving because one accident that’s my fault and I’m out of a job. And the camera never blinks. It’s like a black box, recording everything but not storing it unless it feels a sudden jarring. Then, it goes back twenty seconds and  records the next twenty seconds.

I started  swimming! Peggy gave me a three day pass and now she's going to sign me up under a friends and family program. In the olden days I was doing 72 lengths (one mile) non-stop with flip turns. I'm trying to remember how long that's been and the best I can recall is that it was before 2001 at least, if not longer. I'm up to half a mile and it will get better. The feeling afterward is not quite the full dose of endorphin's but I know it's coming and it'll be my drug of choice when that kicks in.

Where's my head at today?

I've cut Trazodone out of my regime and that was easy. I didn't sleep well with it anyway, as I'm coming to realize now that I'm off of it. Peggy says her friends who got off of it took as much as three months to get over the need for it, or whatever the terminology.

I cut my Buspirone back to half again, and that seems to be fine as well. It's as if things are all fine as long as nothing rocks the boat. Then, I sense a disturbance in the force, as in a need for my meds, whether it's real or psychosomatic, (see a pattern?), until that blows over. This time it's different. I know I'm going to struggle with my route and I will struggle with the tasks before and after each pick-up and drop-off. But that's going to be fine so no reason to stress out about it.

As for my personal life? I'm going to get through this week and then go into next week. I don't know if I'm off Thursday yet. I also don't know if I can pick up hours on the 4th, which I will definitely do if they're still available. That could save me financially, and that could cut down on that stress.

My Only Regret While Waiting to Work:
I didn't get down to see my mother. I had to go to the food bank Monday morning so going last weekend was out. Then I got the call yesterday afternoon so that wasn't in the plans anymore. My mother's arms are so weak she'll be in the halfway house for some time to come. She's not dying but she could give up the will to live, as many do, if she is weak and pushed too hard to get back in shape. I was going to shift my trip down there to the 4th and bring Peggy, staying at my brother Dwight's in Lincoln. Oh well...

11:34 am:
I took another half of a Buspirone. I leave for work in an hour. Sure, it's stressful and normal people without anxiety drugs would feel the anxiety, but why on the first day? Too late, I swallowed it. 

The Morning After:
I thought it went well, and after several hours I had confidence I'd be able to actually pull it off. At one point they went over a new route and for the life of me I wasn't able to remember "I-35 to Hawthorne to 26th west." I said it over and over and hey, I did remember it. 

My new schedule hasn't been what I had hoped. I woke at 5:00 with diarrhea. I hope it's something I ate and not my nerves telling me something. Can't a man just have diarrhea without wondering the source of one's affliction on so many levels?  What did I eat?

My Second Day:
Talk about a steep learning curve, or is it a shallow one? Which way means I caught on quick? It could have been an easier scheduled route, and that I figured out the 24 hour clock, but either way it was easier. I forget things, like the word "manifest" instead of scheduled route but those will come.

Then I picked up a guy in a wheelchair. He moved his chair using the movement of his head only. It was as if a set of headphones were hovering over each ear. I got him on the lift and he mumbled to have me shut it off while the lift rises. Then we got him on the bus and I forgot to make sure there was a belt extender, so put his belt on improperly, and with apologies all round. I drove him downtown on I-35E, and stayed on the right side, which was the bumpiest road in Minnesota, meaning the bumps were magnified in the back of the bus. I apologized to him again. "Sorry, that road was bad. I should have chosen another route."

"They're all bad," he said. Was he being literal or just saying what his life was like?

I picked up my second passenger because I don't know if they are customers or clients. Then it was her and me taking the first passenger to his place. "Take seventh," he said. Only I didn't hear him. I asked the woman, who was what we term ambulatory, had to repeat what he said. Between my hearing issues and the bus noise, and him being in the back of the bus, along with his difficulty talking, she was a great help.

"Eventually turn right," he said. I heard that as I followed the GPS into the left turn lane.

"He said to turn right," she said.

"I think he meant eventually," I said, trying to be sensitive to the fact that he was right there and I didn't want to discuss him like he wasn't.

"He said to turn right," she repeated.

"You meant eventually, right?" I asked him, seeing him in the rear view mirror. He hardly has enough neck muscles to keep his head elevated, let alone kept from bouncing all over during the bumpy route. I wanted this ride to end. And I didn't have the belt fastened with the shoulder strap in the proper place, so I certainly didn't want to get in and accident or even stop suddenly, meaning the camera would come on, possibly showing my improper seat belt usage.

But I wasn't stressed out by it all.

"I've lived there five years," he said. "I know how to get home." Had he lived in that particular place for five years, and lesser places, or in the homes with family as care givers before then, or was he not needing this five years earlier? How do I find out things like this? Do I ask them? "So, what brings you in the chair?" Inquiring minds want to know, and I'm not being glib.

I delivered him to the entrance, thanked him, apologized for the rough ride again, and got back on the bus.

"Thanks for helping," I told my other passenger. "That was rough, huh?"

"Yes," she said. "That is so sad."

Is it sad? Is there a positive side to that? Is he a grandfather and able to watch his grandchildren grow up? Was he hit by a drunk driver? Is he suffering from MS and this was slow in coming and only going to get worse? Inquiring minds want to know.

Day Three:
I picked up a guy in a wheelchair, and his friend with a walker. Young guys, and seemed to be good friends. Then I picked up a woman who was also in a wheelchair but was blind. She had a PCA (personal care assistant) who might have been her daughter because she didn't help much. I let her off first. Then I almost said to the others, "You think you have it bad and then pick up somebody like that. I'm keeping my mouth shut so far. Good thing, huh?