Thursday, August 30, 2012

Zombie Thyroid

In 2008 I swallowed radiation with the intent to kill my thyroid.  It was revved up and hyper as all hell as a result of Graves Disease.

The radiation treatment works in three ways.

1. It kills off your thyroid and you take thyroid replacement
2. It fails and you go back on thyroid suppressant
3. It damages your thyroid enough to keep you from being hyperthyroid but still in need of taking a supplement
or the holy grail
4. it damages your thyroid just right and you don't need replacement.

I have been pretty stable since the RAI in 2008 and have been in the 3rd category, I have taken 88 mcg of Levoxyl everyday.

My annual labs came back with this disturbing number. 0.33. Which means I am hyperthyroid again.

as in....

My damaged by radiation thyroid is alive and kicking in there. It's aaaAAALLLLIVEE!!!!

So yeah, I have a zombie thyroid.

It apparently has survived Hiroshima 2008.

Doc is dropping my Levoxyl dose to 75 mcg.

I was inching toward the hyper range last August too, but we choose to leave my dose alone. This time I am firmly in the hyper zone so must respond accordingly.

I hope it helps. I've been having a rough time of late with my anxiety and thyroid issues just monkey with that. Plus I have been feeling scattered heart palpitations. I have zero desire to return to the cardiac side effects of being hyperthyroid.

Last time they monkeyed with my thyroid meds I got a little psychotic. For real. Something about the falling thyroid levels in my body just shoved me over the line into that realm.

I pray this time that my body/mind can handle the drip without all the drama.

and if not, that will explain any nutty blog posts you might get from me hence forth...though it might be hard to differentiate from my normal nutty ones.

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

oh my Little Wolf, you make my heart sing

One of my farm kids LW waltzed into my office the other night to tell me:

"In case you are not aware of this, you haven't blogged in three days."

She made me laugh out loud.

She has the most amazing way of revealing the depth of her soul and the sweetness of all that makes her who she is.

I am blessed to work at the same company as her so I get to see her on a routine basis. Even if we don't talk I can watch her living her life. I have known her a long time. I am the one who bought her mother the pregnancy test.

I sat up all night as her mother labored and I watch her come into this world red faced and screaming and mad as heck! She was the most beautiful devil baby I have ever known. I wished she was mine so many times.

so many times that eventually she did become mine.

When she was ~6 (ish?) she came to live with me and Grandma at the farm.

 It was a sunny day when mother dropped her and her brother at the farm and left. I will never, never   be able to get that image out of my soul of those two babes clinging to each other and bawling there eyes out as they crouched in the corner behind the front door.

It took a long time before Little Wolf relaxed and made the farm her home. It must have been so hard for her to have such a seesawing childhood. Her roots grew slow at the farm, almost afraid of laying them down to deep in fear of being yanked up again.

She waffled as the years passed as to what to call me. I was just the renter who was part of the family.   She wondered aloud if she should call me sister, mother, Aunt, or just P.

She was not one for words or great displays of affection.

Sometimes I would wonder if she even liked me.

Returning from a coast trip one evening she came in and dropped her duffle bag and took off her shoes and proceeded to shake the sand from them onto the paper I was reading.

"Brought you back a present" she said and gather up her stuff and trudged off to her room.

Oh, dear one you make my heart sing.

There are three presents that I have been given that stand out above all others that I treasure deeply.

your sand is one of those.

She was 12 or13 when I met Corey.

After he proposed I was on cloud nine. But there was one thing that I worried about. One thing that I knew would happen. And there was no way to avoid it.

The farm girls were together when I told them.

"Corey asked me to marry him, and I said yes!"

KSS lite up and was all excited.

I looked at Little Wolf and my soul writhed in agony as I watched her process the information, a fleeting moment of excitement then the realization and the shutting down. Hatches being battened down, drawn bridge closed, the lights turned out. The trust shattered, as I became the latest person to leave her.

It was an awful moment in my life.

To be so happy and so sad all in one instant.

I even asked Grandma if I could take the kids with me when I left the farm. I didn't want to leave them behind.They were my kids. They still are my kids.

No matter where she goes or how old she becomes, she will carry part of me with her. I filled her childhood with camping adventures and dancing in the rain, catching lightning, going on crazy donut runs, laying in the pasture watching meteors and eating donuts with the horses, playing poker and BS., putting hand prints on the truck, falling out my truck, shooting BB guns, horseback riding, Halloween parties, so much laughter, goat fighting and pig tickling and on and on.

But I am so afraid what will stand out the most will be that day she realized I had chosen Corey over her.

She doesn't know that twice, before Corey came along, I had an opportunity to leave the farm.  Once I even was packed and had moved stuff to the new place.

But the thought of leaving her made me stay. I choose her. I put my live on hold to be in her life.

She needed me more.

She doesn't need me anymore.

I love that she still puts up with me and talks with me.  She is still reserved and walled off....and I still wonder if she even likes me, or just tolerates me.  Her roots shallow and ready to pull up at any moment. Her soul still as beautiful as ever. Guarded and graceful and soooooo beautiful.

She is one of the greatest treasures I have had the privilege of collecting in my treasure chest.

Friday, August 24, 2012

what the heck!

I only took a few days off from writing to recover from being sick and I have forgotten how to write!

LOL, that is how undisciplined my mind it. I will make it a point not to skip any meals least I forget how to eat.

I have sat here the last few days with nothing in my writers bucket. Not even writers block....just nuffin in there.


Waiting on thyroid lab results. I am hoping they are off. I would really hate to feel this lousy and have them be normal.

I am in a wretched spin cycle at work. The kind were it takes all your concentration to not be drowned.

Wed the 5th of September will be my first day off. O.o

ha, like how I am spacing my ramblings to give the appearance that I have something to say?

My big sis turned 50 this week. She is skinny and looks great! I don't have her disciplined when it comes to food.

I visited some big cats  today and I am still smelling the lion. I could have sat there all day and watched the jaguars...such incredible cats. I am lucky to have them so close.

My kids have the end of summer cranks.

oh great now I need to tie this all together and give it a satisfying end so you all won't be demanding your money back for reading this drivel.


...common profound thoughts...

soul shattering revelation....

um, my new camera is pretty cool. I love it.

dude at least write a poem or something.

ok, fine.

My new camera is cool,
we don't have a pool,
yeah the kids are almost back in school.
I should challenge my hubby to a duel.
4.09 is the cost of Oregon fuel.
I don't like the taste of gruel.
My sister has a mule.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Swallowing Radioactive Material

Surprisingly, swallowing Radioactive Material actually gets easier the more you do it.

I have willingly, on purpose, swallowed radioactive material three times.

Two minimal doses to do a thyroid uptake scan and then 10.7 mci with the intent to kill of my thyroid.

Which by the way was ....was...was....hmmmm. I can't describe that "little" adventure without the cap lock, lots of swearing and a few threats. Graves disease is so much fun, so much fun, (sing it with me!)

The deciding factor in the assassination of my thyroid was the cardiac side effects. They were increasing. I wanted to be there for my little family. I didn't want to leave my hubby with a 5 year old and a new baby. So I decided to do the RAI also known as I-131, after Hansolo was done breastfeeding June 2008.

I swallowed 10.7 mci of radiation. They had to bring it into the room in a heavy lead container. Then they walk you to the exit and send you on your way.

I spend 4 days in the back of my pick-up talking with my family via 2-way radios. We couldn't afford a motel room to isolate me and I had to be in strict isolation. I wanted to be close to my family so I choose to spend that time in my truck.

Its a strange feeling to know that for 4 days I would be alone without human contact and in fact I was a danger to everyone else due to being radioactive.

It was two weeks before I could sleep in the same bed as my husband. That was very hard. That is the longest stretch I have ever gone without getting my 6+ hugs and 25+ touches daily.

Kids soak up radiation like sponges so it was 2 weeks before they could sit on my lap or next to me, or get a hug. That is really hard to explain to a two year old who wants mama to hold her.

That was the easy part.

The hard part of living in my body as my thyroid levels fell from hyper-as-hell to hypo-hell.

With in two months I was psychotic. Literally psychotic. What a mess that was. To try to function through that hypo-hell with a body fighting and a brain rebelling and the doctor telling me....."its not thyroid related."


It would be the end of September before my endocrinologist felt my labs were low enough to show that we were successful in killing/damaging my thyroid enough.

All totaled I spent 4 months in hypo-hell.

The end results....a dead or damaged thyroid, and the cardiac side effects gone.

Other casualties in the nuking were my taste buds.

A week after the RAI my tongue felt funny, then my taste went bye-bye. Its never came back.

It was 3 1/2 years before I started to feel like me again. And that only happened because I just decided one day to make how I was feeling my new base line.

So now I think I am supposed to feel like crap 80% of the time.

It makes functioning and living like this easier.

End result....I hate thyroid issues even more.

...and when people irk me I can honestly tell them..."Back off! I swallow radiation like baby aspirin, I'm not someone you can push over!"

denied parole for a seventh time

What sweet words to wake to this morning.

I wish he would stop even trying to get paroled. He is not going to be safe outside of prison until all the fans of the man he killed are dead.  If they are ever foolish enough to release him, there is no where safe for him to go. He would be dead in short order. Someone would take it upon themselves to fix the injustice.

It has been  nearly 32 years.

It feels like it happened yesterday.

Sunday, August 19, 2012


We did the fair in 108 weather. Not to be out done my temp was 100 before we even left the house.

It was hot.

It was challenging to keep the kids hydrated and safe. They were slathered in so much sun screen I was afraid they would slip off the rides.

They came home alive and sunburn free.

We left for 2 hour and cooled off and ate dinner at my parents house.

My knee is hurting really bad and it made squatting for photos impossible.

Noticed for the first time this year there were weight limits posted on some of the rides. 180 pounds max. Its a weird thing to have grown up at a time when obesity was a rare phenomena. A time when there was ONE fat person in the whole school. To travel forward to the fair that day and see that the skinny people were countable on the digits on your hands.

Speaking of fat...Had I not lost that pound last month, I wouldn't have made the weight limit!

I ignored the sign that says DONT RIDE WITH BACK OR NECK PROBLEMS, cause well I'm a rebel.

I'm paying for that now and probably for the next several days, but the importance of putting the memories of riding the fair rides and screaming with mama in my kids brains, far out weighs a week of increased physical pain.

Its kinda bitter sweet this year. We are at the peak of no return. This is my last year I am needed to ride with Hansolo. She is now tall enough to ride without an adult. And next summer my son will be tall enough to be the driver of her on such rides and the bumper cars.

But....I have a suspicion that someday I will get kicked of the Gravitron when I am 88 years old for doing forbidden stunts with my great-grand kids.

Then when the evening cooled off my son got to playing in the balls.

While he was playing hamster, Han and I sat down to watch him. A mother parked her disabled non-verbal son next to me. Because of my background a wheel chair automatically prompts me to respond. I talked to the young man until his older brother got out of the balls.

As the mother turned to leave with her kids she grabbed my arm and squeezed it tightly. "thank you for talking to my son, most people just ignore him."

"Talking to someone and with someone are two different skills I wish everyone was taught both."

"Oh God bless you!" She squeezed my arm again, nodded and was gone.

fyi - when talking to non-verbal people, you simply do not ask them questions. They can't answer or respond and the conversation dies. Sounds simple, but it takes some practice to master it.

ex: Are you having fun at the fair?
instead do this: I'm having fun at the fair, I love listening to the sounds of everything!

The last thing we did before we left was ride the tilt-a-whirl. It was 10:30 and we were all slowing down and gearing up to head home.

Now there is a secret to the TaW. The higher the temperature the faster the TaW will whirl. The grease  melts into a smooth glass like substance and oh my gawd hang onto your skivvies cause your going to be subjected to G-force pressures.

As I sat between my kids getting whirled into another dimension I heard a voice within me that I hadn't heard since I swallowed 10.7 mci of radiation June 2008.

It simply said: I want to live forever

I thought that part of me was gone.

It is not a wanting to be immortal, and really live forever...when my soul says that, it means this...I want to LIVE, as in feel life and be connected and make memories like this of screaming my self hoarse as I show my kids what it means to be alive and live in this world. To escape the confines of being mentally ill and residing in a aging failing body if only for a moment to reach for the simply joy of being alive. To accept the pain repercussions and do it anyway.

I am glad that part of me found its way back.

Friday, August 17, 2012

I don't know.

Emailed question to me poses this question.

Hey P - tell us why - the beatles are your fav band. How you get hooked on them?

I will have to give deep thought about answering that question, and find out if I can even answer that question without triggering the heck outta myselves.

My past was...unpleasent. The Beatles were the life perserver that I clung to through out it.




I used to play a game in my twenties, radio roulette. If I turned on the radio and it was a song I didn't like I could hurt myself. If it was comercials I had to go to bed, or go back to working on my homework.

There was a few times the ante of the game got upped. If I turned it on and it was a song I didn't like I could kill myself, and if it was a comercial I had to go inside and call my therapist.

Played it a lot in the solitude of my trailer.

Over those long lonely years a few times I had fatal means in my hands or on the table infront of me when I played that game.  Each and EVERY time that was the case, I clicked the radio on and was greeted with Beatles songs.

What ever spins the world around made sure I stayed safe those nights.

So when I tell you the Beatles music saved my life I kid you not.

hmmmm....okay, yes. I will answer your question Taylor, but not tonight dear one. Its a long story.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

oh the irony.....

I am finally feeling mentally back together after being off balanced by the car accident last May. I feel like me again.

My elbow will never be the same and that ticks me off, but I am alive.

My truck is now a trashed mess, all that hard work to keep it in good condition, wasted, but it runs.

Now I want to get back to the path I was literally knocked off of. I want to get on with living. Kids and I are planning to spend the day at the fair tomorrow.

and I woke up sick today.


I have to go to the fair in 105 weather with a fever??


For my last meal I plan to have a garbage grinder and elephant ear with cotton candy chaser, curly fries and a side of strawberry pie, washed down with what ever cold drink is closest to the Legion booth.

If this is the last blog post you get from me then you know, I succumbed to the weather/fever. You will probably find my corpse on the Gravitron.  Either there or nestled with the pigs in the Ag barn.

Either way we paid for the all ride arm bands, stick me on at least 10 more rides before you call the mortuary.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

eehhh? Going deef

No that isn't misspelled, I am going deef, not deaf.  Going deaf is when you loose your hearing due to aging factors.

Going DEEF is when you loose it from waaaay too much ROCK IN ROLL.

My hearing started fading last year. It's picking up speed at an alarming rate. My son was calling me two night ago and it took a blood curdling scream from him to rouse me. Our rooms are right next to each other.

I am almost 47. Hell's bells I am falling apart!!

My hearing loss though, that is not only hereditary its totally a side effect of the 80's.

Daymn that was some awesome music!!!!

I wasn't a goth, I was in black because of the sheer volume of black concert T-shirts I owned. I could wear a back concert T-shirts for a month with no repeats.

My first concert was Rick Springfield. I will always be Jessie's girl. Screamed my self hoarse at that concert! LOL couldn't talk for days. Could hear nothing for 12 hours after the concert either.

I wasn't content to sit in the bleachers, I was down there mashed in the front row. I always came home smelling like 8 different guys BO with the imprint of the stage barricade on my chest. So lucky to have been to most of my concerts at the local fair ground expo arena. Something about the small venue make it more intense.

Not only do i like RnR....I like it the way it was ment to be heard.


see that cord coming out of my head? Gotta love those old clunky head phones. I used to listen to HOURS of music with those on. Hours of LOUD music.

I once had to give the owner of my work a ride to his car. I was a freaked out mess at the thought of being alone with him, I simply am too shy to be doing stuff like that. We got in and I started the truck and BAMMMMMMMMMM we were greeted with Def Leopard rocking their balls off.
I blushed and killed the stereo. Nervously I glanced at boss. He was knodding his head and smiling his sly smile. "soooo P, likes to rock!"

That I do.

So many memorable moments. Too many to list.

Some that leveled me and left me grinning for days....

Eddie Money. He came out on stage and said "I got tired of eating corn flakes, so here I am. Lets ROCK!" and he blew the roof off the expo arena for FOUR hours! his exhausted band finally drug him off after a zillion encores well after 1 am.

Taking my farm son to see KISS.

Seeing Fleetwood Mac with the original gang.... experiencing TUSK live was .....orgasmic.

Dancing to Ringo Starr with my husband while feeling my unborn son boogying intrauterine.

Having Steve Perry sing me (okay me and everyone else there too) Don't stop believing in an open air arena on a clear night with a full moon in the sky.  (I could have totally died that night, my life just don't get any better then that!! WOW!)

Strangely another stand out was having the Hooters sing Lucy in The Sky with Diamonds, accapella.
I usually do not like covers of Beatles songs (the Beatles are my favorite band, love them I do.) This cover though, hushed the entire expo arena and was INCREDIBLE.  They killed the lights and lit the lead singer with a spot light. Lucy has a series of hard beats in it like a " . . .bam...bam...bam " that are very recognizable. To have his voice lead up to them and then have nothing but silence was breathtaking, the whole audience would swell up to that point of the song then have nothing to release  the tension. wild, wild sensation by the end of the song it was like you could hear the audiences heart beat adding the missing drum beats in that silence.

Front row center watching Kitaro .....there are no words.

Loved the local group: In Flight the band....loved it when I got to go video them. I was too shy to go unless my sister dragged me down there. Holding the chunky old VHS camcorder gave me something to hide behind. They could sing/play to me all night!

aaaaaahhh, my poor hearing, it gave its life for a good cause!

Monday, August 13, 2012

Episode six: Moving games / the Vomit dog /Thend

(this is part of an unsent email that I never finished or sent out)

Moving games. I am playing them right now with myself.  The rules are quite simple:

1. if you have to unpack something you loose.
2. If you have to buy somethingn to re-place something that runs out, you loose.

The idea is to use up stuff (food, paper towels etc) PRIOR to the move so they don't have to be moved.

What? dont look at me like you just discovered that I am mentally not well. I have been telling you all that for years!

When the news came that we do not have a fridge in the new place the games stepped up. The challenge was put forth to me to empty the fridge/freezer prior to our departure.

Soy-sause soup anyone?

Get the  picture?

Just how creative can one be with food?

I have a long history of fun food games which my mama introduced me to as a child. She would make "Circle Dinners"

Everything on the plate had to be a circle or you lost the game.  (round glass of milk, cut up hotdogs into circle slices in spagetteos, sliced cucumber and a cookie on a circuilar plate for an additional 10 points!)


I sound like I am coping well with all this don't I?

Want to know how I was really coping?

******************************************************************************** ********************************************************************************
******************************************************************************** ********************************************************************************

when I was a young girl we had to take a litter of puppies to the pound I wandered away while they did paperwork and looked at the dogs.

there was one dog just quaking in fear. You could see it eating her sanity away as she cringed at the back of the compound cage. She would violently tremble and then vomit, Sit back down and look around and then catch a glimps of the vomit and a pained looked would come over her face and she would then eat it. Sit back down and look around and then a look of OMG what did I just do!? Then she would violently vomit it back up and the cycle would continue.

I was very young under 10 and that image is one of many things that shaped me as a human and as a writer.

I got revisted yesterday by that image, I saw it in my own reflection. This looming dead line of having to move is stressing me to the point where my soul wants to be the vomit dog.

Dissociating is not working, that coping skill has failed. There is nothing left within to split out. Nothing withIN me strong enough to handle this level of stress. Even SIV seems to be a worthless option.

all of this is soooooooooo unsettling. To prep for the move we are eating the food we have here and not adding more. I have freaking bad food issues from my childhood. I get panicky and stressed if there isn't a full cupboard of food.

two more days till the rental we are applying for is empty, then 3-5 days before they will show it and process the application (another 3-4 days)

I can't do this. My hubby is working over time wrangling me and keeping me safe. I am waaaaaaay past my own ability to cope with this stress. Even comfort food is revolting...i just want to cower in the corner and vomit all this stress and uncertaintly and fear and panic out, stare at it and eat it again.

I am not intergrated, but frightfully alone in my head. Wondering if the anxiety/adrenaline/fear/stress combination has killed off my parts.

I am scared. I am alone, I am adrift in a very frightening place with no land in site. I come back here even though I have left here...becasue the familiarity and safety here might help anchor me.

("here" being an old self injury support board)

what do the gods of rentals want from me?! they have my tears day after day, they have my sanity, all thats left is to offer up a blood sacrafice.

Vomit Dog


August 13, 2012

Thank goodness the whole experience only lasted 60 days. I had completely lost it. I was in serious danger of harming myself  take-me-to-the-ER-NOW bad. Had it gone on even ONE day longer, ONE second longer I would have been a mess of  broken bones and burns.

I emerged from that injury free. Despite my world becoming a FUCKING LIVING NIGHTMARE (my apologies to my husband but there is no other way to describe it then to use that word). I transversed it without injuring.  Life was presenting me with 1,000 excuses everyday to do so, and with my husbands support, the prayers of others and some unknown reinforced siding within, I came through unharmed.

well....unless you count the gigantic bruise on my foot from dropping the shelving unit on it my foot while assembling it.

This was the last email I sent out about the move.

I would have loved to do one about the box moving adventures but I was in a psychotic frenzy of assembling the house and cleaning the old one.

I never want to move again. But we will have to again, someday. I sure hope I have leaned enough to do it better, smoother, less stressful.

1. I will call in all my favors and INSIST that someone watch my kids so I can focus and concentrate on the detailed work/and not have to haul them to a dozen property management appts all day long.
2. I WILL NOT MOVE EVER AGAIN DURING MY BUSY WORK WEEK. NEVER NEVER NEVER.....and to boot I was covering for a co-worker during that time too. Next time I will tell work, nope, not doing it.
3. I will take time off from work to do the move so we can move all the computers at once and I don't have to stop and work remotely DURING the big move day!!! COMMON!
4. I will not hint to friends to come help move us. I will be more like this: HELP OR FEEL MY WRATH!!! (those who did help I am forever grateful for their time and hard work P,R,S,F,P thank you all soooo much)
5. I will let my big sister bring her big moving van.....maybe....cause that was delicious fun doing it the way we did do it. Bwahahahah!
6. I will eat Chinese food when ever I want during the adventure.
7. I will seek out hubby's arms for support even more. He was incredible in his support of me.
8. I will pack and bring the ants with us next time....They were nicer roommates then the spiders we have now.

Episode Five: Keys!! and a HACKING!!

To: Everyone
May 19, 2011

We will get keys Friday 27th. Corey and I signed papers today and Withington Street is ours. The repairs are taking longer then exspected, but we should have a beautiful place to move into.

Me and the kids finally got to see the inside. Its wonderful! We can't wait to move in.

Thanks for putting up with my nuttiness.


From: My Big sister
To: P
Subject: Re: keys!
Date: Thu, 19 May 2011

When do want me and the big truck?


Friday, May 20, 2011 9:13 AM
Subject: RE: keys!

Me: Are you willing to help on a holiday weeked? if so then Sat would be great. I'm going to haul as many boxes as I can over on friday to make room in the house to mannover the big stuff.

its got a pellet stove in it, heated garage. and two full more kid toys in my tub!! whoohoo!!

My sister: That's a big 10-4 good buddy.

What time? 10? Earlier? Later? Don't forget the truck holds A LOT so we could always move boxes first w/it and then do the big stuff. NOTE: do not kill yourself the day before.


Sister: As your elder sister, it is my duty to tell you that one of the levels of hell is moving boxes all day and then the next day finding them back where you started and having to move them all again.

You are obviously strung out on Pepsi today and need to detox before the move. Do you need an intervention?

Me: I am 4 days sober. I need chinese food.


When I heard about playstation accounts being hacked I was not concerned. I am a Nintendo-64 girl.

"Sony executives bowed in apology Sunday for a security breach in the company's PlayStation Network that compromised the personal data of some 77 million accounts on the online service."

Well now it seems.....Sony makes playstation and SoE as in Sony Online Entertainment.

as in MY EVERQUEST ACCOUNT!!!!!!!!!!!! They have taken all and I mean ALL of their online game platforms offline while they deal with this breech of security.

Hello, my name is P, I am an EVERQUEST addict. I have been playing EQ 8 years. Corey and I logged many many hours of time playing this wonderful game. We have three accounts. JUR play too. Hansolo plays as well.

I nearly had Hansolo at home because I was playing while laboring and I wasn't going to head out to the hospital until I "pinged" my monk.

There is something very relaxing about beating up cyber foes with Corey. And the ocassional dueling between our charactures where my AWESUME MONK OF POWER crushes his charactures, (may not be able to defeat him on the chess battle field but in EQ I am the Queen!)

My house is packed up, we are waiting on for tennets to move out so we can see a rental, My work is done for the next 2 weeks, My stress release EQ is off line. gosh man, I am going to get into mischeif with all this free time!

So for now I will entertain myself with thoughts of our cyber identies being/(been?!) stolen and used to ruin our credit ratings and in the end result causing us not to get acepted into a new rental.

aaauuugghhh!!! LOL

Episode four: Moving the shelves

As I took down all the items on our shelves to pack them, the old shelves wheezed and sighed and creaked at the joints. They came into our marriage already 8 years old. They are now somewhere in the neighborhood of 19 years old. They are pressed wood and GIANT 6 large shelves sold at bi-mart eons ago. I brought four of them into the marriage.

The two units in the house are now bowed and a bit saggy about the mid section. (heh, not unlike me) They will get reassembled after the move and live on to house our games and dvds and library.

The two that lived for the past 10 1/2 years in the garage didn't weather the time so well. They simply will need the bottom foot of them cut off, its been damaged, then they will go into the kids rooms to house all there treasures.

So that is where the great shelfing drama began.

Old wize Me: (standing over the pile of dismantled shelfing units in the garage.) Just borrow a saw and do it yourself. Geeze woman you have the know how. It will take 5 minutes.

The Me who never listens to old wize Me: (eyes lighting up) we should buy a saw and do it ourselves!! That way we don't have to return it!

Wize Me: you want to buy a saw that we will use to cut FOUR boards???!!!! are you crazy! how is that cost effective?

Logical Parental Me butting in: You can use the saw to teach JUR power tool safety.

Irresponsible Me: AND WE CAN SAW UP ALL SORTS OF STUFF!! WhooHOO!! I love power tools!!

at this point Old wize me. Suggested simply replacing the old shelves. And we went out and looked /priced ones that could match the size space of my old four. There exsits nothing under a billion dollers out there. At that point I started looking at power saws.

Now this may come as a suprise to you, but I am not like most women. I love tools. I loved to play with my Dad tools when I was a child and when I was older had my own collection of tools. All of which I left on the farm so LW and JEH could use them. I amassed the giant collection because the hinge broke off of Nibbons stall door.

Grandma and I drove down to the hardware store to get a replacement hinge and the tools and the smell of the fresh lumber rendered me into a pile of quivering jello. "oh 2 x 4's how I love thee..."

We came home with a hinge, new latch, a couple of 2 x 4's and a power drill.

I used my old hammer to claw off the broken nail and a small splinter of the door jam broke off.

"well that JUST great!" I muttered tounge in cheek "we should just build a new barn."

I looked back at Grandma expecting her to laugh at me. She was staring at me with eyebrows raised. "I was thinking the same thing!"

So we did just that. A huge barn done all in 3/4 inch plywood. 3 stalls, with grooming walkway and full sized hay room. (I should point out we only had two horses LOL) Its a thing of beauty!

To replace a broken stall hinge it cost us $6000.00....and I aquired even more tools.

What I am saying here is...someone had better stop me before the cost to repair my shelves reaches $1,000. LOL.

I have a saw now....with extra cool multiple cutting surface blades. I have kept myself in check and not gotten crazy. I resisted the tempation to get the giant table saw as a back up.

Tonight I took the kids to Harbor Freight (tool outlet store aka HEAVEN) so we could get safety googles. I figured they could keep me in check.

Yeeeaaaah, they were a big help.

JUR: MAMA! we need these 4 foot bolt cutters!

Hansolo: I MUST HAVE THIS RAINBOW COLORED SOCKET SET!! AND I WANT WHAT EVER THIS IS HERE!! (hold up some tool aliens use for probing)

Me: (as gently as I can) kids we can't buy those things...if we did there would be no room in the truck for this drill press and hydrolic pressure washer and this 125 pis vertial air compressor!!
Traveling Wilburies

(an unsent email that never got finished)

So my stress level has set new height records. My anxiety has morphed into a beast all its own and should be paying rent as its living here 24/7. In my job the last week of the month is like cram night before finals. Its full of non-bending deadlines and unforgiving hours for days on end. I usually cease doing house work during this time frame due to the fact there is no time so such nonsense. The house then decays into early neanderthal frat house condition. Which fix on the first of each month, when all the deadlines have been met.

I noticed something odd last week as I did my work, parented, stressed and looked for a place for us. The house was staying clean.

 In my fragile mental health you would think, I would be thankful for this quiet miracle.


 I immediently grilled the most likely suspects.

 storming into the kitchen I found them at the table playing quietly.

"Are you doing the dishes and keeping the laundry up!!" I demanded to the ants.

 Nope wasn't them.

It would take some work but I eventually figured out what was causing this phenomen. It was simple due to the fact the house is packed, nothing to get messed up its all in boxes. And the laundry decrease is the result of the annual spring time occurance of JUR placing on a good pair of pants that cover his socks in the morning and them coming home from school a foot taller and his pants now 3 inches above his socks and both knees ripped out for that YOU WOULDN'T LIKE ME WHEN I'M ANGRY Dr David Banner aka the Hulk look. Less to wash if you have to throw it out!

 But I digress...this story begins on the 29th of April. That day was my massive crunch day at work. A no hold bar knock down thunderdome giter-DUN! day. A day I frequently work 10-12 hours. Well with everything going on I was prepaired and had a good handle on it. I was delighting in the fact I was far enough ahead I would be able to sqeeze in trip to the property mangement and inquire about some rentals I saw posted the night before.

 Then my boss called.

(On Easter Sunday our facility got a rather rotten egg in our basket...heh. The state survey team showed up for the yearly week long survey.)

 She grilled me on a part of my job and then informed me the State says I am doing it wrong.

I calmly and rationally thought about this. Weighing the pros and cons.

Medicare prison vs looking for a rental....hmmmm. I have to tell you, going to medicare prison for fraud was looking mighty inviting!
After making me worried and nauseated-er I got the news that, the State had come back and appologies they were wrong I was doing it right.

Too late...for my fragile mental health, by that time I had opened a six pack of pepsi and was in a fizzy caffeine induced happy place.

Episode three: Going, going, GONE!!


Aparently this is the process for finding a rental in Medford, OR.

1. Cry
2. Boil and stew in near fatal stress/anxiety levels for 26 days
3. Look at a few scary (and I mean SCARY rentals)
4. Drive your loving patient hubby insane with rapid moodswings and crying jags
5. Drive the local property mangements nuts by pestering them every other day
6. cry some more

Today the property mangement we are with currently and love dearly, found us one of their 3 BR rentals. $750 and as a sweet bonus....literally RIGHT where I wanted to live and have even driven past thinking...."I wish one of these were open"

Its 1/2 block from the local school and only a handful of blocks from where we are right now! Withington street, in west medford.

JUR will have to change schools, but we will be close to all our friends. 5 mins from Corey's work so he will be home faster! I love that! even more time to spend with him.

We do not have a move in date yet, there still evicting the prior renters. Will let you all know.

I gotta go cry some more!

I iz so happy!

 Packing and moving

Several of you have offered to come help move us.

I have only one thing to say to your kind loving generous offers,

ARE YOU CRAZY?! .....err I mean THANK YOU!

If you are so inclined to get involved in my psycho-circus then I should inform you of a few things first.

You will need FBI clearance to touch any of the boxes on my computer due to the confidentual nature of my work.

To move any of the large freezers that are duct taped in the garage, and leaking strange fluids, you will need a plateless car, alis and an alibi.

LOL, wait, wait, true story time....

When we moved into 514 South Ivy I owned a lifesized medical skeleton. As we started moving in the neighbors were all chatty and welcoming. Then I made a trip over with the skeleton and carried him into the house. Two of the neighbors never talked to me again!! Bwahahahaha!

As weird as every thing has been, (okay as "I" have been) I must insist any helpers bring this with them:

Bail money.

I am just covering all the bases here. I mean you are about to make a flying leap onto my runaway, driverless anxiety fuel life. Never know what might happen. Just sayin' here....I'm not responible if you wake up in Tijuana with "Whats the square root of Doritos?" tattooed on your bum.

Be forwarned that even though I look like a domesticated housewife, I am in fact barely housebroken. Add no sleep and gobs of stress and caffine and I evolve into a lifeform not yet classified.

This is hard for me to allow people to help. I am the one who helps everyone else and then quietly shuns offers to be helped.

I am disabled. Physically disabled. I have been so for many years, but I ignore it and live through the pain. You all do not get to see me in the evenings and morning when I can barely walk, can't sit and writh in pain until I can spoon with Corey and his body heat relaxes my muscles. I was told years ago the heaviest thing I should lift is a gallon of milk. Also that I would be in a wheel chair by the time I was 50.
There are days I stubbornly deny all that and plan to run marathons at 90....and there are days I fear that I will not make it 50 before I am in the wheel chair. Multiple orthopedic injures and arthritis is a real drag just in case you were wondering.

Deep down I want to move everything myself. I want to struggle through the pain and do all this myself. Even though I know the resulting pain will takes weeks to subside.
I don't want to be a burdon to anyone. I don't want to let my little family down. I want to do my part.

or maybe I just dont want anyone touching my stuff? (Oh yeah becareful with any ticking or growling boxes you pick up...and dont loose any that say human organs for transplant, or radioactive material)

LOL, wait, wait, true story time....

When I lived on the farm, I was given several red hospital biohazard bags. I used them to decorate my room. They were outside trashbag size. With a giant biohazard symble on it and HUGE letters announcing BIO-HAZARDUS MATERIAL. They were great!! When LW and JEH moved in with us I took them down and vacated that room for them. The bags got folded up and left on the library shelf and forgotten. Years later the kids cleaned the library and used those bags to toss out the trash. I came home from work that evening and busted a gut laughing when I saw the bags lined up at the curb. I had intended to go back down and switch them out, but got waylaid by life and didn't. The next morning at 0530 I learned that GP sanitation has no sense of humor. It was so worth it though to be worken up that early to tromp back down there in my farm boots and night gown to do it while the trash men waited to see what toxic trash might be lurking in there!

Oh and under NO CIRCUMSTANCES are you to pack and bring any of the ants with us! Do not listen to them when they say they have my permission to come with. Don't fall for there itty bitty sad eyes and packed suitcases. We are leaving them behind.

So here is the lastest on the rental. If the renter turns in keys today like she is supost to they will turn it post-haste. and we could be moving next week. If she doesn't turn them in, then they have to take her to court to take posession of the property. Court would be on the 23rd and if she doesn't show up then they can take possession and haul balls to get us in there, and we would hopefully (if she doesn't fight them) move before the end of the month.

oh and the rental doesn't have a fridge.

(insert mancial laughter)

This is actually becoming quite the adventure. Its like awaiting for Christmas morning so we can open our present. What will our new fridgeless home look like on the inside? What other "suprizes" will we find? Exciting!

I will let you brave souls wo are willing to help know once we get keys....and don't think us being moved will end me stuffing your in box with my e-mails...then I will start the Unpacking the Russell updates. I'm just hoping there are no sequals to "Looking for a rental - Starring the Russells!"

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Episode two: Beaming out

Episode two: Beaming out

To: P
Subject: your "move"
From: Aunt S
Date: Wed, 27 Apr 2011 02:31:24 -0400

Hello P,.
Grandpa  forwarded your email to me. I absolutely delight in reading what you write. Is it okay with you if I put you on my church prayer chain? There are a number of people that devote themselves to prayer. I wish I knew someone down that way...had an "in". I so hear what you say about your needs for your children. praying for an answer quickly.

Aunt S

My reply: 

oh absolutey add us! I'm about ready to dye my hair and leave my teeth out and see if we can get into senior housing LOL.


To: everyone
May 12, 2011

This moving adventure has given me lots to think about and write about. As i said earlier writing helps me de-stress, and even though we have a place my stress level is still way up there so here is another chapter in "Moving the Russells 2011"

I am a child of two worlds. One set of grandparents lived in a spetactular house that over looked the Rogue River and was filled with splender and enough stuff to start a museum. The other set grandparents lived in a tiny house and a small yard with a garden. At one house my mama would twitch with anxiety as us children barreled past the rich blue glass antiques lining the window and took turns riding on the 100 year old rocking horse in the den. The other house she would do the same as we explored the dusty corners and got into mysterious boxes of stuff.

I was at home in neither place. So quite frequently you would find me where all writers live. In the mysterious madness of our minds.

First grade we had to tell the class about ourselves and where we lived. I shyly went to the head of the class and told the class.

"My name is P. I was born in Hoopa California, and during the summer I live on a pony ranch in Bandon Oregon. During the winter I live in GP. I am a gypsy and my people travel with the circus, I am a flyer on the trapeze act, when I am not tending to the ponies."

The only truth in there was that, yes my name was P.

Now if say Marline Clifton had conjured up a line a bullmalarky like that everyone would have laughed and called her a liar. The class could not dismiss my lies because of my name. That year was 1971 and at that time and space boyhowdy was my name UNUSUAL. So the mysterious story fit the girl with the exotic name.

I ran the full spectum, somedays I was a princess who drew from the splendour of my grandparents riches. Other times I spun yarns of how my Grandpa and I brewed moonshine in the still, and how the sour mash made my eyes water.

Basically as a child I lived EVERYWHERE....and nowhere all at the same time.

I was born on the kitchen table 11-14-1965 @ 10:45 am , my Dad delivered me. My Great-great-great Grandmother was the Princess of Lippy German. I have sawdust in my shoes (Circus slang for being born into a circus family).
I lived in the same house my whole childhood. Then I moved to a farm and had a 1,000 pound pig named Poop. I lived there until I met Corey. We only went on one "date" and we had 5 children chaperoning us.He proposed to me under a pine tree at Hawthorne Park. We got soaked by the park spinklers cause we lingered there so long that evening. When we got married in the same park September 28, 2000, in attendance were 3 of Coreys friends, 3 of mine and a sleeping bag with 6 bums sitting on it. I moved to Medford to 514 South Ivy that day and have been there ever since.

I know what your thinking....yeeeaaaah, right P. You just told us a few sentances back your a writer. Is any of that true?

Every word of it. My life has been such a rich vast adventure that even the plain boring truth sounds fabulous.

We looked at a rental on Pearl street next after the zombie apocolypse house, the house on Murray street with the uni-bomber rental behind it and the house on Benson with the paved yard where all the kids "just play in the road"

Pearl street was like walking into my mind. Literally. The front door was blue, the master bedroom had a Beatles poster on the wall (I kid you not! for those who don't know me I am a complete Beatles nut). The house was build in the 1920 and was just dripping in old fashion architecture and stuff that just screamed MOVE IN HERE!! there was a claw foot bath tub upstairs in the kids bathroom. There was a purple dragon picture in the room Hanna wanted. The house very dirty from the prior renters. I opened the attic and scads of memories of my childhood attic came rushing to the surface as the smell of hot old wood greeted me.

I was in love. I mean head over heels in love with this house! and it was 3 bedroom, fenced back yard and only 700$ a month.

I opened the back door and Hansolo bolted past me and sized up the huge over grown jungle of a back yard. She lunged down the stairs and called out to me, "mama I have to go feed the animals!"

She tapped right into the magicial mystery tour that layed before us.

Then Corey pointed out that the rental was for sale.

More tears.

We couldn't rent there knowing if the house sold we would be doing exactly what we are doing right now, AGAIN.

back to the drawing board we go with my heart pining for the magical mystery house.

After a breakdown and 4 hour crying jag, I convince Corey that we could live in the Benson-paved-yard-house. Go to submit our applications and its rented.

(insert more crying)

(insert soda and ding dong binge)

Okay, I think I have finally got a handle on how this "Find A Rental" game is played. I stay up stalking Craigs list and all the property mangements websites Sunday night. Boom. Sheraton Ct. pops up.

lets see...$800, 3 BR 2 B.....1342 sq feet.

my eyes go bonkers....1342 Sq Ft!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! we are in a little over 900 sq ft right now!!!

I am at the rentals company door as they are unlocking it and I put in an application for it and TADAAA!! we are first in line to see it when it opens!!! Meaning we will get first dibs.

I should be happy.

but no, I am not done playing on the chaos-a-go-round and continue with my nutty swings from "OMG were going to be homeless and living my truck" to "OMG we are going to have to buy stuff to fill up that much space!!"

There was a several day wait till the renters turned in there keys and we could see it. I used my time to pack. Stress. Worry and drive out and look at the area.

It just didn't feel right. I never saw any children about. It was like visiting my grandparents muesum house, don't touch nothing, use your walking feet, mind your mannors. The commute to Coreys work was 25-30 min. RIght now his drive is 5 min. that would mean if we lived over there in North Medford I would be deprived of 40+ min a day of my husband.

That didn't set well with me.

My heart was aching for West Medford and its low keyness. It feels like my grandparents old house with the garden. It very much reminded me of the strange extremes of the houses and lifes of my two sets of grandparents.

It started looking like that was it. Like Sheraton Ct was were we were going to end up. and the closer and closer it got to doing the walk through the more and more my stomach hurt.

Then I noticed these letters on the blurb about the property: HOA.

I looked them up and OH BOY! l was off riding the stress-coaster with no seat belt.

Home Owners Association. There would be additional rules we would have to abide by.

(insert even more crying)

My first worry was WOW there gong to take one look at my truck and its yellow hand prints and there going to slip a gasket and not rent to us!

Dude! I wear olives on my fingers. I am a complete lunatic. There is no way there going to let me into their little tea cozie neighborhood. Not a CHANCE!

So off to craigs list I go and I find East Mcandrews. Me and the kids are waiting for Corey to come pick us up so we can all go see it when D the maintence man from the proprty mangement we are with shows up.

D: hows it going?
P: (tears welling up) we can't find a place, I am soooooooooo stressed, we are going to be living under the freeway overpass.
D: (concerned look) I will see what I can find....and by the way there are squatters in the vacant unit behind you, I'm waiting for the sheriff to come boot them out.

are you freaking kidding me D? Do I look like I have a frim grasp on reality at this point? Do I look like I can handle that info that the riff-raff of Medford is invading my territory and space?!

(P's stress o' meter needle snaps off)

On that cheer little note off to see East Mcandrews we go.

Its a three bedroom house on the main drag, with a substation as a neighbor and a huge billboard as a yard decoration, the front porch is a warppy bendy bouncy piece of old plywood. There is a "nice place to hid bodies" shed out it the back and all sorts of other interesting features, like a door that almost fits the doorframe.....and once again the writer in me fell in love. This place just screamed of the wonderful times I had at my one set of grandparents.

The inside was okay from what we could see through the windows. It was in west Medford. But in my heart I knew it was not a place for our young children. Still I sold me on it and tried to talk Corey into it because I couldn't shake the feeling that Sheraton Ct was the wrong place for us.

When we got back home the squatters were gone. I checked the outside security lights and found them unscrewed. One of our strawberry plants had been dug up and taken. I freaked.

I wanted out of there. I wanted my little family someplace safe and far away from all of this as we could go.

(insert full on mental breakdown and accompaning water works.)

(I told you Corey has the toughest job in all this ....wrangling me is not a job many people can do)

He calmly hold me and tells me gently,"lets wait and see Sheraton Ct"

The next day they call and tell me we can walk through it.

The appt is at 4:00.

D shows up at 3:00 and breathless tells me..."Call our office, we had to give a renters a 72 hour notice and she is leaving a 3br house over on withington Street. the rent is $750"

I go google the address. and OMG.

when I looked at the house on Murray street with the serial killers rental behind it, I loved the neighood so much I drive around all the blocks looking to see if there were anyother rentals in the area. I DROVE PAST THIS HOUSE AND THOUGHT TO MY SELF "its too bad one of those isn't available, that would be perfect"

I am on the phone and talking with landlord faster then google chrome.

The story is this renter trashed the place. She is still there.

Hey I know a blessing when I see one. And without even seeing the inside of the place, or consulting Corey I told her we wanted it.

Its everything we have been looking for RIGHT where we wanted it. West Medford, 1/2 block from a Park, 1/2 block from the school, fenced yard, 3BR, garage, affordable rent, TWO minutes from Corey's work, WITH the same property mangement I so dearly love...oh and its a dedicated rental. No selling out from under neath us either.

Right now Corey and I could live anywhere. But our children can't.

(insert huge sigh of relief)

(oh and some more crying)

We go off to see Sheraton Ct in the wake of all that excitement.

oh my gosh is that place HUGE!! Its absolutley gorgous. The living room is big enough to park both our cars in it. SO BIG!!! the kids go nuts running room to room loving the wide open spaces. Corey reads the HOA rules and regulations as I walk about in a fuzzy daze feeling as if I am visiting my grand parents house that over looks the river.

Corey points out two rules.

basically they boil down to this: no kids outside.

They would be prisoners in this muesum house.

Corey and I could live anywhere. But our children can't. My gut was right. We were not ment to be there.

So right now we are waiting to see what strangeness and delightful adventures and unseen rental on withington street will bring to us.

There are side walks, there is grass, there are children. and sometime in the near future, there will be Russells there

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Episode one: Homeless Barbie

Here is the moving saga in chronological order. There was stress, laughter and soooooo many tears. Its been just a year and the sting has faded a bit, but re-reading theses brings that craziness right to the surface. A FUN TIME WAS NOT HAD BY ALL!

I have also decided not to spell check these. What you will see are my normal misspellings. So don't bother pointing them out to me, I already know I can't spell...ironic curse huh? talented writer with awful spelling.

Some of these are really really triggering and I will give clear headings on those. I tried to deal with the stress with laughter and so a lot of these are funny as hell.

Moving the Russell's 2011 - Episode one: Homeless Barbie

Wednesday, April 13, 2011 3:44 PM
To: my big sister

nice Easter suprise....we got served a 60 day notice of termination without cause.

they dont have to even give a reason.

So we have to be out 15 days sooner then we exspected....ah lets excelerate stressed out P's time table.

thankfully taxes are coming or we would be homeless.

I'm goin to eat sugar, lots of it.....


Subject: Re: homeless barbie
Date: Wed, 13 Apr 2011 18:46:05 -0700
From my big sister

Let me know when you need me, the big truck and a dolly! If Honey here I'll bring him too.

Let me know if you need boxes or help boxing, too.

The good news is...there's no looking back! Any hot leads on a new place? They must have heard you were looking to move.


From: P
To: My big sister
Subject: Re: homeless barbie
Date: Wed, 13 Apr 2011

boxes ? we dont' need no stinkin' boxes! (sorry channeling old movie dialoge...)

P <---- no fool, still has all her boxes from when she moved in, plus 100 more I have collected over the years. I'm alweays ready to flee my home land on a drop of a hat. (box horder for the win!)

We started packing on the first of this month, got a good handle on it.

the place is selling so the new owners must have pushed it...either that or someone must have tipped them off that I am a nincompoop LOL.

sigh,,,stressed but doing ok, we have close to $3000 coming in taxes. If we didn't have that comming I would be A WHOLE HECK OF A LOT STRESSEDER.


To: everyone
April 17, 2011

Well we were planning on turning in our 60 day notice at the Ivy Street place the first of May. The complex sold and the new owners served several of us with 60 day notices. So we are getting booted 17 days sooner then we were planning on. (who buys a rental complex and tosses out the renters?!)

We are waiting on tax $$ - should be here next week then we can start looking/applying for a new place. any prayers for a good, safe new home for us would be appriciated.

I had already started packing on the first of this month so all I had to do was ramp it up a notch. Our living room looks like a giant game of tetris with a wall of boxes.

My children have only known this house as home, there doing okay, but I can tell they're a bit stressed.

Corey is his usual calm cool unstressed self. (Hes off at a chess tourny won all three of his games on Sat, havent heard from him today yet.)

Me I'm a stressed out mess guzzling pepsi and packing like a maniac. (there are three things you never want to do with P...1. car repairs (HAH! the police get involved! thats a cools story if you ever want to hear it) 2. build stuff....P's armed with a hammer and power tools...could be dangerous. 3. pack/move.

I want it all packed, I'm resisting the urge to give everyone a roll of toilet paper and tell them to make it last till we find a place cause I'm packing the rest of it.

Corey's main jobs....move the four computers. The massive wires and cords will keep him out of trouble for a while. And play P wrangler. Keep me in a line is a full time job, heh.

This is all you know what we are up to. Also to explain any psychotic behavior you may see in me until we have landed somewhere. We have to be gone 6-13-11 from here. I am aiming for
5-30-11 so we don't have to pay for those 13 days in June. lets see that means we have to move during the absolute busiest days of my work schedule. Peachy! Good thing I was a boyscout and I always rememeber to be prepaired.



April 21, 2011

There turning it into a drug rehab complex. LOL feels like we are being discriminated against for being normal! The are booting all 8 of the units. One family just moved in 1 1/2 months ago and JUST got all unpacked and settled!

I'm ready to go now, got the place packed and just waiting on tax $.

April 26, 2011

I use writing to de-stress and calm down. What you are about to read is what happens when I tap my writing skills into the adeniline fueled madness in my mind. I am sharing it with you all cause, well cause bending family/friends cyber ears is cheaper than therapy.

I'm going to whine like a stressed out toddler up two hours past nap time. Feel free to ignore me. Since this move adventure began 14 days ago, the diet I have been living on is Pepsi, adrenaline, stress and old halloween candy I found while packing.

When Corey and I were engaged, it was up to me to find us a place to live in GP. It took me literally 30-40 calls on rentals BEFORE I realized they were not calling me back because of my name. So I started leaving my name as "Mrs. Russell" that worked and I started getting calls back. Set up 10+ showing and got stood up 9/10.

After an I-give-up-you-look-in-Medford-tearful conversation with Corey he started looking and in less than 5 days we had a place. Truthfully I could have lived anywhere with him. Didn't matter as long as we were together.

So much harder now. So much harder....the fustration is mounting in me. No luck finding a place yet. We are limited on the range we can afford due to the fact I am raising my own kids (no werehousing in day care here) and I feel its sooooooooo important that there is a parental figure there EVERYDAY after school. I have parented kids via the telephone when I was a nanny and worked swing shift. I will not do that to Corey's children. So I can't change jobs and my income is only part time.

We would like to upgrade to a 3 bedroom. I never (repeat NEVER) wanted my kids in the same room, and yet sadly here they are. So whats available in our price range. Lets see.

I have looked at a 3 bedroom that is in the flood plain, under the overpass and looks like it has been fortifided with enough junk to fend of an entire zombie apocalypse.

ah, no.

Second is a 3 bed room with the word "quaint" in the description. *eyebrow raises like Spock* Quaint in Medford means 3 bedrooms in a 835 sq feet with a second rental right outside the back door. And I do mean RIGHT outside the back door. Perfect for a family with no belongings and in need of slave quarters. Its truley a freaky thing to walk around the house and find this tiny "perfect for a serial killer" unit snubbed up in the back of it.


Today we did a walk through of a passable place. Well inside at least. Outside the yard is paved. ALL PAVED. Tell me if I am being too pickey, here I would like my kids to have somewhere to play. With a paved play area I would spend a fortune on bandaides. It also has no sidewalks. The lady in the next unit gleefully told us, "its so nice during the summer all the kids play out there in the street, the cars slow down for them."

Mentally tallys ER bills in with the monthly budget.

hmmm...zombie apocalypse house starting to look better.

We have 46 days to clear out of here. And where is here? 514 South Ivy street. My home. 10+ years of memories. 10 years of wonderful, peaceful bliss. JUR and Hansolo have never known anything else. This townhouse is highclass for the area we are in. It had an all new carpets and appliances when we moved in, it was so roomy. Well was roomy till the kids got bigger, now we are like sardines in here.

It was bought by a drug/alcohol rehab place. They dont want anyone here who isn't in recovery so they booted all 8 of the renters of us out of here.


*quietly ponders if Pepsi and meth are compatible*

We are being disciminated against because we are clean and sober? We also can't rent in two places here in Medford because we are a two income family! What the !!

when did being a normal family become so outdated?

raaaaaaaafffffffffffffffffff....the stress is chewing at my gut with its ravinous teeth. I am not asking for much. I want a roof over my familys head and some grass for them to play in....and a sidewalk.

*Throws self down and kicks feet*


For heavens sakes I used to live in a 12 foot travel trailer for years. I can handle cozy. Said travel tailer was butted up against a chicken enclosure. I worked nights. During the day the chickens would scale the pine tree and with a scream leap down onto the top of my trainer. Falling fat flapping chickens sounded just like what you would expect a zombie apocalypse too. Minus the chainsaws.

So I am not picky for me. Corey, mr-nothign-ruffles-me, I think will be happy as long as he has his family. I am picky for our children. There safey and well being is important. Though I am sure after a summer of tent camping in the homeless area along I-5 and/or the four of us living in the back of my truck for any length of time, my standards of housing may drop.

"The neighbors are killers and their illegally housed cougar ate the kids who used to live here? No problem, here let me scoot the remains of this old meth lab off the table so we can sign the rental agreement."

Saying goodbye to 514 South Ivy

This is for you LW....I will post the whole series of emails but I wanted to start with this one.

Back story for everyone else who missed these the first time around. I lived at the above addy for 11 years.  We out grew it and were waiting for our tax money the spring of 2011 so we could move. One month before the money was due our rental unit was sold and the new owners evicted all the tenants. They were going to turn it into a drug rehab place for families. They gave us 60 days.

I do not cope well with change as it is...and when you add the extra pressure of a ticking deadline, wow did things deteriorate.

We got out on time...but wow the ride was like no other. The stress drove me to write this series of emails to my family. Trying desperately to cope with everything.

And what really BITES MY BUTT is ....they rushed to get us all out of there....and the rental units are STILL EMPTY 14 months later.


******Trigger warning******* as in this is going to give you a glimpse into the darkness of my life and might be unsettling, please read with caution





My brow wrinkles in disappointment. I push my cotton candy colored glasses back up my nose and then continue twisting the apple stem.

D....E...F...G...H...I..J !! I pretend it comes off in my hand. My grimy tanned face smiles happily. I am going to marry a man who name starts with a J! I slid down off the porch railing and off I galloped to join my siblings.

I was ten years old.  Head over heals in love with  my classmate James Lee Staley.  I want to marry him. He wants to marry me. Mama's words ring in my ears as she passed on the old wives tale of how you can tell what your future hubby's first name will start with as you twist off apple stems.

I have already decimated Mrs Johnson's daisy patch with many rounds of he loves me, he loves me not.

I always cheated and always end on "he loves me."

I want to be happy. I want the dream of a loving husband and a life of love and happiness. I want more than anything on the planet to find someone who can love me. More than anything on the planet...well except a big black stallion with a flowing mane and tail who will only let me ride him....and a candy store. I am after all only ten.

But i am no ordinary ten year old.

I have ghost words that haunted me on a deeper level. A very cruel and mean grown up felt the need to grab me by my arm and tell me when I was 3rd grade that I was so ugly that I would never have a husband. But perhaps even more damaging was the person who told me that I would never have a child. Ever. That I would be alone forever.  The "ever" always hissed mockingly in my ear. I grew up knowing that I would always be surrounded by people, but forever alone.

June 1st James was killed in a motorcycle accident. A few days later Mama tossed the obituary page in my lap "did you know him?"




"yes" I whisper and retreat to the solitude of my mind. I stare at his name on the page and feel my soul fracturing.  He died because I loved him. I poisoned him. I vow to never love another living person ever again.

I lived my life as Simon and Garfunkel sang...I am an island, I am a rock.  I was alone.  Sometimes I was a piece of sea soaked driftwood rolling on the endless waves, always just inches from drowning in the wine dark seas.

I was a very depressed and miserable person. The rage and hate I harbored towards this world that didn't want me, had no room for me ate at me till the only way I could deal with the pain was to cut my skin to create mouths that screamed and cried tears of blood. To burn my skin and leave large ghostly white scars all over me.

The Beatles were my friends. Their music was my salvation as child. THEY KEPT ME SANE. I allowed my self to love them because, how could they hurt me?

As the years passed the loneliness snuffed my desire to live on.

December 8, 1980 John Lennon was gunned down.

I didn't think I would ever recover from that night. In short order I drove away KKW (my only friend). I kept everyone at arms length. I wanted NOTHING to do with any living person EVER AGAIN.

My dark eyes reflect madness and hatred behind a veil of bangs. DON'T LOOK AT ME.

Graduate at 17 and start working graveyard on a locked one will find me here among the demented. I feel strangely at home locked up with madness and the voices hollering “help help help” . I  save my money and that November buy a travel trailer and move into on my parents property.  A princess locked away in a tower. But there was no prince coming for me. I knew I was never to marry.

I have three goals in life.
1. To have dark circles under my eyes.
2. Have grey hair.
3. Be dead by the time I am 23.

The night shift psychosis is sweet and I enjoy the new madness in my mind. I move my trailer to a co-workers farm. We pool out measly min-wage checks and live better.

We are social outcasts and we hate people. I ride her horse to escape...endless hours cantering through the woods. I happily plan the day I will die. My 23rd b-day. At last my pain and suffering will be halted. I
will be free. Free of the stink of my decaying brain. Free of this body that clings to life with no food and fresh blood trails dripping down it.

Co-worker I live with’s daughter has a baby girl. Despite my attempts to not love her, I fall head over heals. I protect her vigilantly, no harm will become this child. She never lacks for touch of love from me.

I am sitting on the couch feeding her and with my right hand writing out my will, when I glance over at baby KSS. Who will teach this child to ride? to dance? to twist the apples stems?

I find the strength to reach out.

After a psych eval at mental heath department I find my self in the office of a man named Richard. I choose him from a list of therapist because he shared the same name as the Beatles drummer.

My first appt. I tell him I plan to be dead by the time I am 23. He nods his head and asks when my b-day is. I tell him. We have a DEAD line, a time table, we have a lot of work to do.

Richard had never worked with a client who self mutilated. In hind sight that was truly a blessing. He had no idea about SIV (self inflicted violence), no preconceived treatment plans or biases.
We learned about it together. In my attempts to educate him about it, I in turn had no choice but to learn my self. He was the perfect T for me. A pleasant older male who kept his distance and never tried to touch me. I value his professionalism and his ability to keep us on track. I loved his humor and his easy going manor. His giant collie dog frequented out sessions. It was nice to be treated both by a human and a four legged.

We talked initially about how I was treated by others, and how I felt like an alien.

He asked “are you human?”

“No” I replied .

" animal?” he asked gesturing to the sleeping dog at his feet.

“no” I whisper fighting tears. “I'm not good enough to be an animal”

He waited patiently as I fought internal battles. “I am nothing, I am dust, I don’t feel like I belong on this planet, I feel like I was dropped off and my race is gone. I am a crack child. (crack in the true meaning of the word - a space between two objects) I belong no where. I exist between light and the dark. I am like a missing link.”

He sighed deeply and I saw pain in his eyes. “P we have to get you reconnect with your people.”

 “Everyone is a foe till proven otherwise.” I say with narrowed eyes.

“P in order for this to work you have to trust me.”

I am gone. Lost behind my walls in the darkness of my madness. Hope? trust? what the ?? why can’t he understand that: ALL I KNOW RIGHT NOW IS HATE - PAIN- ANGER- FEAR. that is all I speak.  My feelings long ago bottled up and hidden away.

“can you trust me?” he asks. “or at least give me a chance to earn your trust.?” He addresses me as if I am a fox caught in a trap.

I ponder his words as I feel my foot being bit by the cold steel trap. What choices do I have?
Allow this man to help guide me and strive to live a better life...or...chew off my leg and scurry away and remain wounded and injured for ever.

I go internal and face my selves. we are tired of the pain. we are tired of fighting the madness, we are
tired of living everyday, every second in a state of constant suicidelness.

I speak to Richard. “yes...yes we will give you a chance.”

That man saved my life. I owe him a debt I cannot repay.

The next man to touch my life on that depth would not come into my life for another 11 years. Excruciatingly long lonely years.




My boss introduced us. I was set up to play chess with this Corey Russell. I went into the friendship with the knowledge that it would be be just that. A friendship. By then the "you will never marry, never have kids, never be happy" was simply a part of who I was. I had sadly accepted it to be true. I was 34 years old and for all intense purposes invisible to the male population.

We talked mostly via email. We got together about every 2 weeks and played chess. I worked had to learn what he had to teach both about chess and his faith.

I learned he had been praying for a wife for three years.

His words amplified the loneliness in my heart. I felt overwhelming compassion for this gentle man and his personal quest to find someone to be with. I could relate to the wanting and needing...and not having.

By then I knew him well enough to tell him "you will make someone a wonderful husband." Never guessing he would be mine someday.

When he asked me to marry him it was a warm Thursday evening in August. I still wanted to look over my shoulder to make sure he wasn't talking to someone else.

Here was someone who wasn't afraid of my past or my scars. Someone who didn't believe the lies told to me as a child. Someone strong enough to hold me and love me.

We married September 28, 2000 and after eating at McDonald's with B, S and M he drove me to 514 South Ivy street.

And my life began again.

I got the "never life" I had been dreaming of, complete with a loving husband and days of peace and happiness.

Finding someone who can love me is a blessing beyond description...and finding someone worthy of my love is too.

So much laughter, and loving and joy happened there. So much healing and growing happened there. Lots of tears shed there, both sad and glad. A childhood lie exposed and shattered there as JUR and Hansolo  joined our lives.

Layer and layers of warm peaceful memories flooded this tiny place in Oregon. Our home for nearly 11 years.

In less then week we will be moving the stacks of boxes from here. I will dry  Hansolo's  tears as she wants to bring the stairs with us. JUR and I will stand in the kitchen and bid a fond farewell to the ants. I will lovingly dust and untangle the cargo net of computer cords for Corey so he can move them easily.

When the house is empty I will come back and clean it alone. I will lovingly clean it and fill its emptiness with gentle healing prayers for the families who will move in next. I will pray it gives them a safe place to heal and grow too. That they too will be blessed to the degree I was while living here.

When its clean I will lock the door and head out without looking back. I will drive out and put the keys in the landlords mail box and hurry home to Withington  Street and join my family....and I will continue to live happily ever after.

Friday, August 10, 2012


Once upon a time there was a girl who retreated under the covers and decided to never come out.

She said "I am staying under here until I have the mother I deserve, one who loves me and needs me and listens to me and protects me."

She said "I am staying under here until someone loves me unconditionally and looks after me."

She said "I am staying under here until someone comes for me."

She said "I am staying under here until someone who is strong enough to guide me in my healing comes for me."

She said "I am staying under here until someone strong and brave comes for me."

She said "I am staying under here until..." She was cut off by a sharp knock.

She peered out from under the blanket and gasped, there was the one she was waiting/asking for! My she was beautiful and strong and powerful.

The girl reached out her hand and the woman extended her own hand...the girl scrambled out from under the blanket and ran to grab it...but the reflection in the mirror could only press against it and not hold it.


(C) 9-19-05 PR

Thursday, August 9, 2012


whoa, feeling like writing tonight. Not the usual stuff, but opening that conduit to that place inside that I have zero control over.  I have 3 hours in sleep in me.  Buckle up kids, I have no idea where we are going...

I was born with wind in my hair and the sun on my face. Jump roping intrauterine left me with my umbilical cord fashionable looped twice around my neck.

I hit the ground running, prancing like a horse and neighing for bowls of oatmeal and sugar as a tot.

Pictures of me swinging naked on the bars at three year old.

My family two generations removed from the circus, yet I still had sawdust in my shoes.

Trees were to be climbed.

Roofs to be jumped off

The spring winds to be rode

My shoes lasting forever, cause as fast as I flew they didn't spend much time on the ground.

my eight siblings formidable foes and teammates

basket ball was more fun as a full contact sport

My legs strong and free

they carried me everywhere

they were my only source of escape

Rollerskating opened a graceful new door a new outlet in my teens

me and the music one rhythm

the spins the graceful lines the silence in my soul

the excitement to stroke hard, line up and vault aloft


from this world

to twist in the air and try to enter a different reality

almost reaching it

only to have gravity snatch me back.

The horses too loaned me their legs and I rode

and rode

as if my ancestors where centaurs.

but then one day

one man

one moment

one heartbeat

one devastating OJI

one trip to the ER

one MRI

one orthopedic surgeon

one devastating word.


How dare the universe put me on trial and level this sentence on me!!

How dare it take from me my one means of running?

gone is the skating, the games, the freedom from pain.

I rebel

refuse to accept



and I did.

and one year later the bay mare reared up and flipped over pinning me to the ground

and the universe whispered to me on the way to the OR

"did you not hear me little one...I sentenced you already, Let me repeat myself and make it clear. DISABLED."

The world looked different at this pace I found myself moving at.

This walking pace.

How strange the trees looked from this angle

how being disabled in my  20's and handed a

"be in pain forever" card

really changed how I look at my life.

Being forced against my will to grow and change and evolve.

Seeing my children take flight on the wind and forgetting for the moment

and running after them one ...two...three steps before

the pain chains grind and halt my flight

How my  soul withers

how my wings droop.

and how I feel so lost

and a stranger in this body.

How it drifts day to day

till angrily I meet her gaze in the mirror

and scream at her


setting sail on the sea of depression, drifting aimlessly on the undulating waves

I don't look for land,

but it finds me.

I stumble from the boat

born anew on a journey of discovery

a new life

a new path

and I start over again and found ways to still be me within the pain and broken body.

recap: of the recap:

Three interesting questions posed to me this morning.

1. What is your most famous piece of writing?
2. What is your all time favorite thing you have written?
3. Are you like this in real life? (as confident as you sound)

Wow this kinda stumped me.

I don't really think of my stuff as famous.

I mean are you talking about awards? - then its a short/shorty called H-h-help.

Are you talking about global coverage? - then its When Mom hurts  There are copies all over the planet. (addy is null)

Are talking Professionally published? - then its pick one: Twonight, There is a space, Swing etc etc

Are you talking volume? - any of my Handcrank children's books.

When I think of my writing, really think about it what I am most "famous" for is some posts that were not written for praise or awards or publication or global audience they were written for some one in pain.

Stuff that only a handful of people saw at the time. Stuff that got these responses:

"wow, wow and WOW thats beautiful DD and it hits right at the heart of things."

"Oh thank you P, for understanding me, i feel like no one under stands me like that. I will write that story down and carry it with me forever! I am not lieing i will. It touched me and made me cry. Thank you! You have touched my soul when i needed it most. I hope you are right and my kids will carring on a legacy of my hard work. You have know idea how much you have helped me! "

"I am sitting here with tears running down my face. I have no words"

"Tears in my eyes too. Some days, most days, you know exactly what to say, dear DD.
I'm so glad you're in this world. I'm so glad you're in our world. I'm so glad you're in MY world.
Thank you.
And thank you for sometimes reminding me how to be a (loved and protected) child again, filled with wonder and laughter.
Pass those olives over here...."

"wow!!!!!!!!!!!! i don't usually feel much, but wow this should be published "

"P, you are so very talented at being able to put feelings into words. Moms everywhere would identify with your words --- thanks for sharing with us -- brings back lots of feelings"

"Thank you so much for sharing this with us, I am honored to be allowed to see this part of you. I can't tell you how deeply I am touched by it - it has me in tears and it somehow reached into my soul and found that place where these same feelings hide."

"P, *tears* that was the nicest thing anyone has ever written to me. Thank you. No one believes in me. :( not even me."

"I really, really appreciate your blogs and especially this e-mail. I don't
feel quite so alone. Thank you sooooo much for being there and for being honest."

When the dust settles...those individual bits of writing are what I am most proud of. Famous? nope, that word doesn't apply to me or my writing. I just a fellow traveler who is walking this path with you. Sometimes making you laugh, and sometimes crying with you.

I don't want to be famous. I don't want that pressure. If my writing wants to run off and be famous then so be it. As for me I just want to write for you.