Hopefully It's Not Goodbye

Every time, every single time, I get on my Harley to take a trip I get freaked out. I mean, totally freaked out.

It's probably due to that woman hitting me and totaling my bike, or perhaps the inherent danger in riding a motorcycle. I'm not worried about myself, I'm worried about the other people on the road.

As least I know I can be seen. My bike is white and pink, how many of those do you see on the roads? My helmet is white with a huge pink butterfly on each side and I've put crystals on it. The crystals reflect all the sunlight and make it seem as if my helmet has lights covering it. I also have modulators on my headlights and tail light which make the lights continually flash.

I'm going to Hell's Canyon. It's in Eastern Oregon near a place called Baker City. I'm going to be riding the Tail of the Devil. Sounds wicked doesn't it? It's 22 miles one way of curves and twisties. It's also the deepest canyon in the US. The scenery is amazing!

The first time I rode it I was scared to death when I read that they always have Life Flight on call during the rally. Not riding with the rally this time so there shouldn't be as many bikes on the tail. It was an awesome ride and I'm really looking forward to it!

Just hoping I come home alive, in one piece and without road rash!

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RED FLAG!

I’m sitting in the middle of my bed, with my yorkie snuggled up next to my left hip, trying to write while NCIS Los Angeles is on. You’d think I’d know better.

My concentration was totally blown during the first scene with that close up of LL Cool J. The guy is BUILT. I don’t know why I even attempted to write now. Even though I’ve watched almost every episode of NCIS LA I bet I can’t tell you one story line. I have to blame it on Mr. Cool J’s incredible hotness.

Ok, commercial’s on. Time to tell you about my search in less than two minutes. It’s been nine days, not that I’m counting, since my second psychiatrist in six months told me she was closing her private practice.

Most of you, I’ll bet, spell panic P A N I C, for some “no ice cream” means panic, for others it might be the most terrifying of all creatures...the chupacabra or, perhaps, a newborn baby, take your pick. For me panic usually means running low on Xanex, but for the last nine days it’s been the thought of not having a psychiatrist.

Whoops. LL Cool J and his massive arms are back on, give me a few minutes here to catch my breath.

Ok, let’s try this again. The Red Lobster commercial doesn’t quite have the same appeal. Where was I? Oh yes. I’m in full force panic mode. See, having a psychiatrist that really understands bipolar disorder II is one of the most important things in my life.

They hold the magic prescription pads. The ones that, in the correct hands, keep my world in order. Now that I seem to have found the right “cocktail” of medications I’m scared to freaking death that I’ll find some diploma mill doctor that will want to try to change things, “simplify” things, make me their own.

In the last nine days I’ve made well over 100 phone calls only to hear “sorry we’re not accepting new patients,” or “our first available appointment is in November.” Sometimes I was lucky enough to speak to someone whose first language was English (I was beginning to think that computer tech support and psychiatrists were in cahoots somehow).

Finally today, after charging my phone twice and eating an entire quart of blueberries, at precisely 7 minutes after 5, I got a return phone call. It was from a female (score one), English was her native language (score two), she’s not too far from where I live, meaning I don’t have to drive into the vortex of the universe called downtown Portland (score three, four and five). She also had an appointment available next Tuesday. Screeching halt. RED FLAG.

Just as I was about to ask why she had an opening so soon, when everyone else was totally booked, she seemed to have read my mind.

“I just dropped a major insurance panel so my practice has opened up. Being a health care provider has recently gotten a whole lot more difficult.”

Ok, with that answer she scored six through ten. So next Tuesday at one o’clock sharp I have an appointment to see if we’ll be a good fit, as if I really have a choice at this point.

But I feel good about it. I think I can return my panic mode to where it belongs. It’s not with ice cream, it’s not with chupacabras (I could totally use one of those from time to time), it’s with the mere fleeting thought of the possibility, though totally impossible, of once again being pregnant.

That panic is something I can, after a hysterectomy, totally live with.

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Randomness

Since I won't be writing today I've decided to link up with Sunday Stealing. Why am I not writing? Well last night I had a bout with racing thoughts. Before I was diagnosed I thought the barrage of fast thoughts when it was time for sleep was normal, that it was something everyone dealt with.

Apparently not. They just don't stop and I find myself going over and over the same thing in my head for hours on end. Usually I stay pretty heavily medicated during sleeping hours to quell the assault. For some damn reason known only to the Bipolar gods they wouldn't stop. Today I'm tired and in a pretty shitty mood. I mean, after all, Divas need their sleep, right? Right.

It's a gorgeous day in Portland and I should be out riding my motorcycle. But I think today calls for questions, then a nice, long Diva nap. Kids will be banned from the house or will place duct tape, pink duct tape no less, over their mouths and tiptoe lest they wake the sleeping beast Diva.

So here goes. Let's see if I can get some imagination in the answers and who knows, they very well may spark and idea or two for later.


Cheers to all of us thieves!

41. Who was the last person you went shopping with?
My credit card. Not a person you say? Well my credit cards and I are very well acquainted and have quite the relationship going on.

42. What is something you need to go shopping for?
probably groceries. The kids are tired of eating kibble.

43. Do you have the same first name as one of your relatives?
Not. But my dad did give me my middle name after a famous dancer of his day. Evidently she had great legs. lol, Leave it to my dad.


44. What kind of car do your parents drive?
Sadly they've both left this planet. But Mom drove a Jaguar and Dad a truck.

45. Are you rich?
I think you'd have to ask Obama that question.

46. If you could spend one intimate night with a celebrity, no questions asked, never to see them again, who would it be?
As long as I didn't have to listen to them carry on about their political views it would be George Clooney or Johnny Depp......I mean you can't stop with just one!

48. What famous person do you look like? Feel free to use this facial match program by clicking here. Show us at least the celeb photo.
So I did use the facial match program and apparently look the most like Andrea Bowen, uh who is she? And Anastacia and Teri Hatcher. WTH, well that's what it came up with.

49. What is the most daring thing you've done recently?
You really, I mean really think I'm going to tell you that?

50. Say you were given a pregnancy test right now. Would you pass or fail?
Oh Sweet Jesus, Mary and all the saints in the heavens I damn well better FAIL! After all my first doctor of choice, Dr. Kevorkian, just died.

51. Which sex scandal of the last decade bothers you the most?
I'd have to go with John Edwards on this one.

52. Do you know anyone in jail/prison?
Does knowing someone that puts them there count?

53. What are your plans (or what have you done) for this weekend?
Today, sleeping, tomorrow hasn't arrived.

54. Have you ever woken up and not known where you were?
uh, *hangs head in shame*, hell yes

55. What were you doing at midnight last night??
Writing

56. Last restaurant you went to?
Roadhouse!

57. How many hours did you sleep for last night?
I'm guessing about 2

58. Which is more distracting: Sexting while driving or sex while driving?
Sexting for sure, not that I've ever done that.....

59. Do you think someone is thinking about you right now?
Most probably only the one's reading this

60. Have you ever changed your clothes while in a vehicle?
Oh course! Now on a motorcycle it's quite the trick. 

Enough of sitting in Starbucks. I'm going to go see if I can sleep after a few espressos. 

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Wouldn't Ya Know

Remember I told you my second psychiatrist in 6 months is quitting? Well I've been madly calling all of the psychiatrists on my health plan. Since this is my life I'm sure you can guess what I'm going to tell you next.

Wow, you guys are good. That's right folks, not ONE psychiatrist on my plan is accepting new patients.

So I have approximately three more months before my doctor closes her practice and then all bets are off.

I know it's early but I'm beginning to freak out a little bit here. My primary doctor said he would prescribe for me, but he's pretty anti benzo so that's gonna be a BIG problem. I really think the only reason I'm not on John Walsh's top ten list is because of benzos......valium, and drugs in the same family, if you're not sure what a benzo is.

So tomorrow, after coffee, the gym, nails and a massage......don't forget the "Diva" here even though we're talking about bipolar, I'm going to begin calling and trying to interview Nurse Practitioners. That pretty much freaks me out to the nth degree. For some reason I seem to think I'd be better off with a psychiatrist, but I know there are NPs out there that are wonderful.

There are six of them on my health plan. Wish me luck or you're going to be hearing a hell of a lot of my shit since you, my friends, will become my therapists. But then at least one of you has to be able to write scripts.

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Tax The Rich?

I rarely get political on here because, well, I don't like controversy. But I've been thinking about a couple of things lately. That sounded wrong, I think a lot, but lately I've been thinking about this argument of "taxing the rich."

My business is general contracting. Most of our clients are extremely wealthy. Sometimes we're the general and sometimes we're the sub.

The company is now working on several projects for some very rich clients as subcontractors and we have several smaller general contracting jobs going on as well. 

One of the sub jobs is for a young couple that are self made millionaires. They're spending money, lots of money. The drapes in their home alone will be around $200,000-$300,000. Someone had to measure for the drapes....job. Someone has to make the fabric.....jobs. Someone has to sew the drapes....jobs.

There's a designer....job. There are a myriad of subcontractors on this 13,000 sq foot house, jobs, jobs, and more jobs. There's a crap load of supplies needed for this project, more money into the economy.

This one family alone is creating hundreds of jobs for hundreds of families. Hundreds of families are able to pay their bills because ONE family has incredible business sense and has built a winning company. This one family is making it possible to get hundreds of families off of unemployment and back in the workforce. Those families are paying taxes, creating more revenue. Those families are also able to buy more of what they want, not to mention what they need.

So let's tax this family heavily, because after all they obviously have more money than the rest of us, that's just not fair goes the argument. Let's punish them for their business creativity and let's make sure their income is overly taxed.  There goes their ability to create these jobs. They'll hang on to more of what they have. All of those revenue creating jobs are gone. More people will continue to be on unemployment and welfare draining the US of much needed revenue.

I know this isn't a new argument, but it sure hits home.

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I'd Really Like To Shower Alone

I can't believe it! It's SO not cool to get in the shower and realize that you're not alone! This is a post from before but it's totally appropriate for what happened today. I just wanted to take a shower by myself! Also, I think since I thought about getting my iPhone to get a picture of the intruder shows that I'm addicted to social media. Good sense prevailed and I left the iPhone on the bathroom counter.

I saw it as I started the water for the shower. It was on the crown molding. Although I didn't know it at the time, it was waiting for an opportune time. Its shiny brown body and eight long legs were perfectly still, probably trying to convince me it was no threat.

As the water warmed I watched the spider as I tried to evaluate whether or not I should knock it down and kill it. Should I get the vacuum hose and vacuum it up? Eh, both were too much trouble. I'd be fine, I wouldn't be in the shower long and it hadn't moved since I first saw it several minutes earlier.

I got in the shower and after soaking my hair I turned toward the shower head to wash my face. I put my face under the cascading water but tried to keep one eye open as I rinsed the residual of the night's sleep away. It still hadn't moved. Piece of cake, no problem, I had it made.

As I reached for my shampoo I saw the spider drop several inches and catch itself on a silken thread. I watched as it climbed back to its place on the molding. Being certain that it would be there for awhile I lathered up my hair and leaned back into the water. As the foamy bubbles were rinsed out of my hair and down onto my body I felt safe as I saw the arachnid still securely in place.

Feeling much more confident I took my pink scrubby off of its resting spot and squeezed on body gel. I began to wash my arms and chest with the scented cleanser and glanced up to see that the spider was gone. The spider was freaking gone! I don't have a fear of spiders, but that doesn't mean I want a physical relationship with one either.

I looked around the crown molding that surrounds my bathroom. It was not to be found. I looked down into the shower floor, no luck. As I surveyed my surroundings once more the horrifying realization hit me. The little bastard was on me! Then I did something that I still don't understand, I screamed. Tell me how in the hell a scream is going to help in a situation like that? Do spiders even have ears?

I couldn't feel it on me which meant it had to be in my hair. Just like in the movie Arachnophobia I knew it was going to wash down my face as hundreds of other spiders made their way through the shower head and onto my naked, wet body. Ok, now I was freaked.

I thrust my head under the flowing water once more and flicked my hair around with my hands. The eight legged freak fell to the floor. Now it was me against it. It stood there staring it down before it started toward me. I wasn't going to step on it without shoes and I wasn't going to crush it with a shampoo bottle and get nasty little spider guts all over. The only weapon I had was the hot, running water and the hope that gravity was on my side. It was coming faster when the water moved it off of its steady course. The water had caught it! Its legs were thrashing as it acknowledged its fate. In one last ditch effort to get to me it jumped up only to be swept away and down the drain.

I had come up against an enemy and I had won. I had won with nothing but streaming water and Isaac Newton's theory. Even with my victory I was creeped out. It could still climb up and out of the drain and come for revenge. I hadn't won; it still had its grip on me. I had to do something to ensure that it lost.

I quickly got out of the shower and grabbed the Drano. I poured a half bottle down the drain and scalded the little shit with my chemical arsenal. Was it rational? No, but it sure felt good.

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I Think I'll Take That One

You know when you're feeling so great, that everything's going so well, that you just want to sing out and dance in the street? Yeah, neither do I.

Things have been kind of sucky lately, I'm beginning to think that's my life, and it's only taken me 49 years to realize that little nugget.

Anyway there is one thing that I'm really pleased with, that makes me want to sing out and dance in the streets and that's my psychiatrist. Bottom line is that she rocks.

She's gotten my medications sorted out so that I feel, what I assume, normal must be like for most people. Bad days are just bad days not BAD days and good days, well, they're great without being over the top.

My last psychiatrist decided to close her private practice last December so I've been with this new one for six months. It's been great, until today.

After today's session she said she had something to tell me. I knew before she opened her mouth, it had been going too well for it to continue. I was right. She's closing her private practice.

I stayed calm, I mean what in the hell was I going to do at that point? It was on the way home that I began to panic. Do you have any idea how difficult it is not only to find a good psychiatrist, but a psychiatrist at all?

It's easier to win the lottery.

So begins the search. I have three months to find someone that will be a good fit. Then I get to start all over with the getting to know you thing and them wanting to mess with my medications. I'll SO fight that, after all I'm feeling pretty good most days.

And then do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to give your entire personal history, to get the new doc up to speed, when you constantly have to say, "Oh wait, one more thing," and "Oh I forgot about.....?" It pretty much, well, it sucks.

So now I'm on a quest to find a doc that won't be closing their practice any time soon, that will be a good fit for me, that will leave my medications alone and will be able to decipher my chaos. I know that's a tall order, I mean I can't even decipher my chaos.

Since winning the lottery seems so much more likely I stopped by and bought a shit load of lottery tickets for Oregon's Megabucks.

Hopefully my next post will be from a yacht in the Mediterranean.

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The Stronger Force

The fog has lifted, the clouds have fled


And with them has gone the barrier that prevented


The radiance of the sun from being impressed upon my soul


Its essence had been unable to reach the innermost depressions of my being


While being anxiously absorbed by my parched and trampled spirit


Benefits of this new found energy are difficult for my mind to recognize


Instead it fears the strangeness brought forth may instead singe my naked soul


Logic and heart will bond and the perfect balance intended by the Creator will be experienced


One day surely the haze will come again but its grip quickly loosed by the brilliance of its radiance


And this light shall remain the stronger force.

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You're Not Friends On Facebook?

I put on "the" shirt today. The first thing my son said was, "you're not friends with any of my teachers on Facebook are you?

hehehe

Here's the shirt. Not the best shot, but hey.

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Teachers Pet

I am SO not a mommy blogger, but what the hell.  This is making a kid squirm so I'm all down with that.

Last night I got a package, I freaking LOVE packages! I'd been waiting on this one forever. I ordered this top from Free People :

My damn mailman hates me. He marked it "moved left no forwarding address." WTF? I've lived here for 14 long years. I'm still waiting on my Nike package too. Andrea, see what you can do about that one will ya?

Anyway I was so excited to finally get the package after waiting for what seemed like months that I tried it on immediately. It was HOT, I mean smokin' hot and I love it! Although I have to admit the top looked SO much better on me since I have, like, a hundred times bigger boobs than the girl in the picture. (Yes, I've had too much iced tea and cake frosting today and I'm giddy.)

I pranced out into the living room where everyone, including my 13 yr old, was. He took one look at me and said in a desperate voice,

"Mom, you're NOT wearing THAT to the meeting at school in the morning are you?"

Hehe, I love it when they ask me questions like that.

"Of course I am! Isn't it beautiful?"

My poor son began shaking his preteen, freaked out, fuzzy little head and pleaded, "Mom PLEEEEEEZE don't wear that tomorrow, pleeeeeeze."

That's when EVERYONE jumped in, "Mom you have to wear it, it looks GREAT!"

"Mom, please, please don't wear it. All the teachers were totally checking you out last time. Then they look at me all weird the rest of the day."

"Well would you rather me wear my leathers with my tattoos showing?"

"Yeah, cuz that's cool!"

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Diva, The Daughters and Pistolas

A little mommy, daughter and hand gun bonding here.... Oh yeah, and feet.

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