#IWSG - DECEMBER 2015 POST - AT LEAST IT'S SOMETHING!

In the crescendo of chaos that seems to be my life, whilst having a grand time playing with author Nikki McCormack's Jumping Spiders (a game we made up. On Twitter, no less), congratulating fellow #TeamDamyanti (headed by the most wonderful DamyantiG) members Jemima Pett and Guilie Castillo-Oriard on the release of their books and enjoying their successes, as much as if they were my own, playing and reveling in "Scheherazade" and then starting rehearsals for an old friend - "Rachmaninoff's Piano Concert No. 2", which is richly "viola-centric" in melodies and lines, I almost forgot that today was the day to post for #IWSG. 

Judging by the above, I have nothing regarding writing to be insecure about, because I haven't done any. This isn't tantamount to saying the dog ate the homework. This is just flat-out saying I didn't do any, or very little, with the exception of a post I wrote for #mst3k on Turkey Day. I did the Marathon with the Guys and on Twitter. Last year at this time, Jim and I would have cooked for the homeless around here and given away food, but he passed away in May. I went down to Trinity on T-Day and they were not open, so, I did the #MST3K thing and had a fine time. 

Anyway, I hope one and all had a great turkey day and all of that. Now, on to 2016!

#ROW80 1ST QTR 2014 – WRITING PROMPT – TWO CATS

TWO CATS

 

Now that the A-to-Z Challenge for 2014 is over, I can honestly say that I am a much happier writer going “themeless” or at least with something a bit more complex than just “HUMOR AND HUMORISTS”, which was never the knee-slapper I thought it would be, I can return once more to my aimless nit-picking, meandering, diatribes, general nonsense and philosophical wonderings about just how many angels can dance on the head of a pin and is there anybody out there. That is NOT the fault of my awesome team and my wonderful team leader, Damyanti G of #teamDamyanti. I will be side by side with them again next year. The fault was mine in not preparing and not really thinking about how a "theme" can work to one's advantage. Lesson learned; but I am glad I did it because I always come away from these challenges a better writer and with great friends!

Writing about humor wasn't as funny as I thought it would be. Judging from the comments, my family was a whole lot funnier. Next year, I'm just going to write about them.

 

All of this is in an effort to forestall editing on my own magnum opus from NaNoWriMo 2013, Music of the Spheres, because while I think it has several wonderful ideas, it has a lot wrong with it, and I haven't the least clue of where to begin, as I am not a creative writer. I'm more about ideas, and I noticed when I was writing Music, my characters did a whole lot of standing around and pontificating. Not exactly the most exciting thing for a Sci-fi Thriller, even if it does include the Alien Undead Railroad Underground, or something approximating that.

So, stepping bravely back into the fray of blogging every day on my own whims, which is what I did when I first started “Homeless Chronicles Blah Blah Blah” I decided to write about some of the goings-on around and about Nebraska Ave., 33605, 33602, which I haven't done in a long, long time; I'm returning to my writing roots, as it were.

Imagine about twenty buses going hell-bent trying to keep a schedule, racing in or out, in a giant, tilt-a-whirl thing. Now, imagine smoking brakes, or non-functioning brakes and it's raining. It's THAT much fun!

 

Three days ago, I had to take the bus to Rose Diagnostics to get a chest x-ray for my pulmonary doctor. Not a big deal, and it's one transfer. I take the number 2 downtown to the Marion Transfer Center, where commences the Bus Ballet. For those just tuning in, the Bus Ballet is where every bus converges into a round-about at the same time, and it is a fine cacophony of brake squeals, snorts of exhaust and bus hornery playing. This is accompanied by near-misses, bus asses heaving into sight, zipping past squared-off windshields, that make them seem oh, so much closer, and just as quickly sinking out of sight, as if below the waterline. It is one of my favorite parts of riding the bus – call me an adrenaline junkie – and I always look forward to the MTC; it's always hectic and that day's was even more so, as I had to run to catch the number 14 to go up Armenia to Rose Diagnostics.

That done and quickly, I skipped back across Armenia to make my return back downtown, to take the #2 back up Nebraska Ave., 33605 to my house. I just made it and the #14 arrived on time. I sat down and was just kind of zoning. I was kind of tired, but was thinking about my last two A-to-Z blog posts. I looked towards the front of the bus and where people usually put their baby buggies, or their grocery buggies, I noticed a wire cage, about 3 feet by 3 feet, with a blanket on the bottom of it. My vision has been a bit worse than usual of late, so I really couldn't make out anything, except what I thought were two ears on the left hand side of the cage. I was on the left-hand side of the bus, in the only open seat.

The two cats were this laid-back. Their owner was so solicitous, but they hardly seemed perturbed. The tuxedo cat was a domestic short-hair, but they looked much like this. As the bus bumped over the ruts in the road, the cats' heads bobbed and swayed along with the peoples' heads.

 

At the next stop, the man who was sitting on the right side of the bus, left his seat and I moved over and up one and I could see then what was in the cage. There were two cats. One was a ginger cat, red-and-white striped and the other was a tuxedo cat. The pair were laying side-by-side and although it was warm on the bus and noisy, they seemed perfectly okay with all of the people getting on and off the bus. The bus was noisier than usual and had worse-than-normal bus shocks, as in non-existent. We may as well have been riding in a Conestoga wagon going west during the 1880s, but these two cats rode along fine, their little heads dipping and bobbing in time, with the rest of us. They were more well-behaved than some of the kids I have encountered on the bus. Their owner, a guy in his mid-30s, wearing a wife-beater, denim shorts, tattooed, with 'banger signs and chains, was standing by them, with another cart with food, kitty litter and litter box and he would occasionally stroke one of them or talk to them.

When I was homeless, one of my roommates, who was given to confabulation told me that someone had chickens on the bus, and I told her she was full of it. Maybe she wasn't. . . nah, she was, because she conflated everything else.

When we arrived at MTC, he was the first one off, cats, cage, cart and all. I stopped and asked the bus driver if that was permissible as I have a pet who needs to see the vet. Mama needs her annual check up and I have been pondering on how I am going to get her to the doctor. The bus driver said, “Well, he should have had two carriers, but yes it is allowed.” Happy day! Now of course, getting Mama to go along with the bus ride will be another story and probably not a happy one!

#ROW80, #IWSG THURSDAY, BECAUSE I SLEPT THROUGH WEDNESDAY. . .

Poor #ROW80; they probably wonder if I'm still alive. #IWSG is more than likely under the assumption that I'm some mass hallucination. I wonder myself. At least Damyanti of #teamDamyanti is aware that I am a real person; sort of. . .

I honestly meant to be on-the-ball this month; really. But once again, life happened, and as is my wont I tend to be secretive, when I most likely shouldn't be. Blame it on Asperger syndrome, being an only child, hating most of the human race, being shy, having low self-esteem, high self-esteen or knowing that interaction with most of the hoi-polloi ends in tears, regret, shattered dreams and on occasion, spilt blood; not mine, but theirs and one begins to understand why I am rather comfortable with my own company and ill at ease with people I do not know. 

Thanks to Mr. Jesse Libecap and theworld4realz.com and the entire Roo family for my wake-up call today!

So, what does this have to do with missing my #IWSG check in? JC had to be put into the hospital again, and this time it was for his heart. What should have been done months ago, and was ignored by his primary care physician, finally caught up to him. It was discovered by his Gastroenterologist, who flat-out told him that he would not perform and endoscopy on him until his heart issue had cleared up. My railing at JC over the phone whilst in the G.E. doctor's office did nothing, because he is a stubborn man. Alex's hollering did nothing. So, we let him come home. This was February 24, 2014.

We finally got him to the hospital on February 26, 2014, when I refused to speak to him for 2 days. I turned my back. Every other gambit had failed, but this. JC has had little love or interaction in his life, but I knew this was one thing he could not bear. I stopped interacting with him at all. He would walk into a room; I would walk out. It tore me up inside, and yes, it was cruel, but it worked. He gave in and went to the hospital. Alex and I visited him and made him laugh; JC and I are never angry with one another for long; there is too much love and we have cared for one another through so much, but I am not ready to let him go. As I told him, "I'm not through making you miserable in my attempts to make you experience happiness!"

The amazing thing is, the human body is hard to kill. The heart catheterization did not have the desired results, so for now, the doctors are using a combination of medicines to break up the calcified stent and the surrounding plaque. If this does not work, then, they will be forced to do a surgical bypass. Good thing I remembered all of that crap from the good doctors at the University of Michigan hospital, almost 40 years ago. 

JC seems to have weathered it well, better than his princess of a cat, Mama, and myself. Mama, of course looked for him constantly, and with him gone, she was forced by me to remain inside the entire time. No half-ajar doors, where she has the run of in-and-out; it is far too dangerous a neighborhood, with me here by myself to leave any door open. So, for about five days, I chased her around, with a spray bottle and picked up the stuff she knocked down. I didn't sleep well, and wouldn't have anyway, with JC gone. My Parkinsonism, requires lots and lots of sleep, and when I don't get it, I find that the Primodone, while helpful, still leaves me fatigued. The muscles on the right side of my body seem to have been weakened and my right eye-lid starts to droop. A lovely sight, I'm sure. 

Before my 2nd eye surgery, I could sorta do this. If this came in blue, I'd totally own it.

So, after JC was home, and we had settled in, I took off up to our favorite Sweetbay/WinnDixie to get his medicines. In spite of what I said, I am amazingly strong and a good 2-mile walk was what I needed to blow out some of the tension and anxiety. The muggers have learned to leave me alone after their last botched attempt, so I am safe. I grabbed the meds and a few items and stuffed them into my backpack in the front of the store.

Whilst doing so, I knocked over this poor gent's bike with my cane. I felt terrible and hoped I hadn't hurt it. I was trying to pick it up and I heard "Hey! That's my bike! Don't be takin' my stuff!" I whirled around and said, "I'm so sorry mister! I knocked it down! I hope I didn't hurt it!" He saw my cane and pack and bags, and asked "Could you wait here while I get my stuff?" I said "Sure! I'd be happy to!" He went back inside and got his things and came back, saying "Lawdy, lawdy, they put the grapes on the bottom, then the eggs and the canned goods on top!" He got it all arranged, as I was arranging my stuff.

Where I live, the bicycle is the primo method of transportation, unless you're a drug dealer or a pimp. The gent's bike didn't have quite this much stuff, but he had several 6-packs of water, a dozen eggs, grapes and canned goods on his handlebars. I've seen some contraptions in my time, running up and down Nebraska Ave., 33602, 33605, and some really, really fine looking rolling iron that is not owned by the upstanding citizens or V. M. Ybor.

Then he looked at me and said, "Can I help you to your car?" Then, he looked again, at my cane and glasses, and said, "Oh." This isn't the first time I've been asked this. "Nah, I'm taking the bus," I said. "Okay, well have a great day, and thanks!" He started to peddle away, and stopped and started laughing. "I forgot to unlock my bike!" I looked at him. "I have that effect on people. I sow confusion, wherever I go. It's my confuse-a-what™ and I'm really good at it." He said, "I can see that. Goodbye" Off he went.

I just made it to my bus and got home. I showed JC all of the items that he could make for himself that were easily fixed and heart-healthy. I gave him his meds and realized that I was so tired I could hardly move. Alex and I had made egg salad with 35 eggs that the church had provided on Sunday, so I had a sandwich and laid down for a nap at 3:30 pm on Wednesday, March 5, 2014. I woke up, today, at 2:10 pm. Yep, I was tired and that was some nap. JC is comfortable and seems willing to do what the doctors are asking of him; I hope he complies. Only he can do that; I am the most compliant patient on earth. I am non-compliant in every other aspect of my life; and oh yes, I do challenge my doctors. But, being compliant and going along and trusting everyone, got me to this point where I have nothing to retire on; after helping husbands get degrees and all. You hear me, Lithia? I will outlive JC; my health is much better now than it was 25 years ago, but my attitude is much, much worse in regards to "letting things go". I will fight for JC and I will fight for myself, as well.

A reminder! Theme Reveal for the A-to-Z Blogging Challenge is March 21, 2014. The Sign up is here. I am part of #teamDamyanti and our goal is to assist you in choosing a "theme" for your A-to-Z Challenge, 2014!

DRAGON'S LOYALTY AWARD

Dragon's Loyalty Award presented by M. J. Joachim

This is a great thing that has been bestowed upon me. By accident, or as collateral serendipity, or something like that. Lemme explain. Last year, I took part in a blogging challenge at the spur of the moment, rather like I decided to participate in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) last year, and actually "won" both, by finishing. The other challenge, for those not in the know, is the A-to-Z Challenge, where, during the month of April, you write a short post every day starting with the letter "A" and finishing up with "Z". It works out because every Sunday during the month, it is "dark" (a musician's and actor's term) wherein you don't post or write on that letter. If you finish the challenge, you get a  nifty badge that you display on your blog, which I did, much like the one I got for NaNoWriMo in 2013. You also get some street cred for finishing the damned things, because you gut out the writing blocks and all the inherent other stuff, like. . . uh, life. 

Two years ago, I wrote exactly 1637 words for NaNoWriMo and quit in total misery, because I was in the throes of undiagnosed Parkinsonism and that shit ain't fun. I've been able to take everything else thrown my way, but that was truly debilitating, both mentally and physically. Now, that I'm under treatment (some people wish I weren't as I am busy making their lives a merry Hell for past indiscretions, but I was too sick) I feel 20 or 30 years younger. I believe in the quality of persistence over time and it applies to all things, so maybe this is a good award for me. Dragons live forever. 

So, too, do challenges, and friendships. This is my second year on the A to Z Challenge and I am proud to be a member of #teamDamyanti. I did have a bit of confusion over this award, which is nothing new with me. I've done such jack-a-nape things like follow my own self on my own blog, when I was trying to answer a reader's comment and argued with myself under the pseudonym of Andi-Roo over suicide, when I performed a hurried cut-and-paste job, that was really just a cut-and-paste-paste. That floated around in the cyber sphere for several hours before I caught it and fixed it. Andi's response? "Ha ha ha! Girl! You crack me up!" Of course, there's always the time I thought I was doing good for the homeless in my area, in a post, that had a horribly juxtaposed picture: 

Admittedly, some of the stuff the ex-cons at FSJ, my old homeless shelter, used to concoct between pinochle games looked worse than this, -- scrunched-up cheetos, ramen soup noodles and anything else dumped into a single-serving size potato chip bag, add water and eat with a spoon and called "goulash -- this was NOT on purpose!

I'm legally blind and have a very weak right eye, and my left eye has dark cast that makes it hard to see and read. Sometimes I have to read things 8 or 12 times, or come back and give it a go another day. I've been legally blind for 10 years, so am used to this, but it makes for some interesting interpretations and I tend to "skim" a  lot of text. So, today, I just realized that M.J. Joachim had awarded the Dragon's Loyalty Award to the entire Team of Co-hosts and their Minions, of which I am one. Color me. . . confused?

No, I'm not. Well, okay, kinda sorta. I mean, I just show up and try to do what I'm told. It is an honor and I have to tell 7 things about myself, then award this to 15 bloggers and visit them and pass on the love. Consider it done, M.J., and thank you so much for this award!

I started playing the violin at age 11, but realized my mistake and switched to viola at age 15. I did not pick up another violin until the age of 45, when some idiot in Tampa hired me to play the violin on a gig, while I was living in Charlotte, North Carolina and had a free week. I guess all the other violinists between Charlotte and Tampa died or left town that week. I had to rent one for the gig and I rented the worst thing I could find in the hopes that I would never be hired to play another violin again. It didn't work. More idiots hired me to play the violin. I still hate the violin. The only thing worse than the violin, is playing Mozart on the violin; that right there, is Hell in a barrel. Give me Beethoven, or better yet, Shostakovich, or something with lots and lots of 16th notes, except for the slow parts; I love slow parts and can e-mote like a mo-fo and have a gorgeous sound. Or rather, I should say, Wolf has a gorgeous sound.

I own a viola that was "born" 10 years after Beethoven's death in 1827. My Florenus is of the Bolognese school of fiddle-making and was built in 1837. His name is "Wolf" and he was named by the luthier who appraised him and insured him. I've owned him since I was 19, and he's lasted longer than any of my marriages. He's a much better partner, too. At 177 years old, he's considered a young adult in the fiddle world. 

Wolf's hand-carved scroll; a trademark is the crudeness of the work; the House of Florenus is known for it. It certainly doesn't hurt the sound. His 2-piece back is "matched" up; 2 "tiger stripes" run down either side of his seam.

 

 My viola bow was "engineered" and built by an aeronautics engineer out of Germany. Many modern bows are now built by former engineers and their sons. In the old days, bow-makers, like Tourte, Vuillame and Withers observed birds and watched the shapes of their wings as they flew. The wood is pernambuco.

The 2nd Liston-Ali fight, which secured Ali's place in the history books. Ali's trainer, the late Angelo Dundee took time out to talk to this boxing fan when he was working a young fighter in Tampa, circa 1999. This sport is rich in history, heart, love and tragedy. It is Shakespeare on a 20-foot canvas rectangle.

 

I am a HUGE boxing fan. Boxing is the quintessential art of physical and mental abilities melded together. Boxing history and lore is some of the most fascinating in the world, and the very best boxers possess the minds of chess-masters and the quickness of cats. The fighters have the hearts of lions and are some of the kindest people I have ever met. Boxers do not fight out of anger, but they practice an old and gladitorial sport that has lost relevancy in the modern age. Much of the arm movement and pronation is echoed in the musical world, as is the pace of a Championship Match. I've met many of my musical colleagues at boxing matches.

My only other secret is this: my psychiatrist, who is also an internist calls me his "Google" for all things "Parkinsonism" (I explained the DaTScan process to him). When I started to exhibit overt symptoms, without knowing what I had, I started to learn, from what I could glean on the internet, my own primary care physician and from support groups on Facebook and Twitter (I only had Medicaid, which did not pay for any Neurology testing or medication, at the time). My greatest source of information is YumaBev who has had Parkinson's Disease for many years, and is a dear, wonderful friend, and such an inspiration! I have Parkinsoism, or essential tremor, or "Parkie Lite" as I am calling it, for I exhibit every one of the symptoms, yet my substantia nigra produce Levadopa, thus I am on a much different drug regimen. But, as is my wont, I faced it head-on and went back over my own family's history and believe my mother suffered from it, as well, which would speak in favor of e.t., as that is a "familial tremor" and therefore, inherited. We are now facing the idea that this may also be altered by certain protein combinations, or by gene therapy. 

That's pretty much all I have to say about me; I still get to play my fabulous Wolf without it sounding like a machine gun, although my performing days are behind me.

If you have NOT participated in the A-to-Z Challenge before, I urge you to try it! It's so much fun and you'll get to meet bloggers from all over the world. If you want to plan your challenge around a theme, please, please please, contact any one of us at #teamDamyanti, or sign up here:

A-to-Z Challenge

A To Z Challenge Theme Reveal Blogfest #teamDamyanti

             Badge Courtesy of: Samantha Geary-Jones @ writerlysam.wrodpress.com                                                                           

 

I know, I know. It's not #ROW80 and it's not my usual ravings about stupid stuff that goes on here in da 'hood. It's something different; hopefully something with a little class! Even though it's still winter and the Olympics are roaring along in Sochi and I had a 232-page post (just kidding) prepared about life in Russia, that will just have to wait. Something much, much more important is taking place!

Today is the day we announce the Theme Reveal of the AtoZ Challenge that occurs each April. The theme part of the challenge is the brain-child of Mina Lobo who participates each year. Last year was the first year I participated and I enjoyed it so much that when one of the established co-hosts was looking for volunteer-minions I jumped into the breach!

I'm proud to be a member of Damyanti's team and you can find us on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/atozchallenge or on Twitter with hashtags #teamDamyanti and #A2ZReveal. 

Be sure and check out the blogs of my fellow minions and my fabulous co-host Damyanti from her main page! If you have any questions or need help cooking up a theme, you can contact any one of us, or be sure and come to me! I am first-rate at whipping up a big batch of confusion. Some of you may remember that I followed myself last year on my own blog, trying to answer one of my commentators.

That was probably the least idiotic thing I did in 2013. But, I digress. The important thing is to join the Challenge at the A-to-Z for 2014 and pick a theme! Write about cats, or cupcakes as my co-minion Csenge did one year. Or not! Write about the letter C, like my friend Gina Valley did, when she couldn't remember the alphabet! I told her the funniest thing I ever saw was the drunk lady on "World's Dumbest Partiers" who sang the Alphabet Song at karaoke, which in itself is pretty stupid, and couldn't get past the letter "A" even when another drunk tried to help her. Hysteria and apoplexy followed, which really helped my parkinsonism! I almost had a stroke and a hernia! Just kidding. 

Anyway, you get the idea. Come on and join in the fun. You don't have to write War and Peace. You can write haiku if it suits u. . . That's bad, even for me. Well, I've been up way too long and it's time to get some sleep. Come and write. Come and read. Come and read and write, but sign up, first, here. You'll get a nifty badge at the end of the Challenge for finishing and feel good about yourself. Trust me.

My fellow minions are: Samantha Geary-Jones, Vidya Sury (who has 2 blogs) Anna Tan, Giulie Castillo-Oriard, Jemima Pett, and our own SteamPunk lady, Csenge Zalka (who also has two blogs!) Along with our intrepid leader, Damyanti, we hope to provide seekers with the very best, or at least non-mediocre ideas for themes, so stop by if you're in a quandary and need some inspiration! And sign up!