...of all people

There is a young professional man who lives upstairs, I think he must be a student because despite his age (30s) and similar complaints about this house, he lives here with another friend. We once exchanged a hello. Maybe 2 weeks later during a heat wave I had been stupid enough to go out for milk and came home with a heavy wagon. I can't use the front porch at all, so going up the driveway means an incline that probably wouldn't bother most people, its very difficult going up with the difference in leg lengths, trying to maintain balance and push a heavy cart, even tho its the small size cart. This man was with his friend and they were going to come down the driveway when he suddenly came out of the car, ran down the driveway, took the cart from while I'm telling him, 'no, its heavy' and pushed it all the way up and then picked it up and place it on the porch, smiled and said anytime I need to shop, to ask he can take me. The washer and dryer died here a month ago. I saw the basement door open and thought the landlord might have sent someone to see what was up. But as I was on the porch this afternoon, this young man comes out closes the door and gets in his car. I wanted to ask him, are the machines working now? But felt embarrassed to interrupt his leaving. He then opened the driver door, got out mumbling to himself as we do when we've forgotten something, waved hello and came back toward the house. I feel badly that people are in the back and have to walk all around to the front, up 10 steps and then up the staircase...3 steps and a mad dash thru my apt, as he once had to do because he forgot his keys, just seems the polite thing to offer, but of course this is not a highway and even a porch conversation throws both cats into a tizzy, burrowing under a rug or quilt. So when he came close I got up and asked him if he knew whether the machines were repaired. He said he lost so many shirts, either mangled by the dryer or stained in the washer that he stopped using the machines and goes to a local laundromat. "Where!!, where? is something local?" I asked him, he said it was right past the market in a parking lot but then said, "I can take you anytime, let me know." In his gentle eyes when he looks at me, there is back there a mother he recalls. I cannot ask him for these acts, but his kindness is overwhelming I have to turn away after saying thank you. So maybe a small load first and see how that walk goes...

if I forget thee Jerusalem

Of all the fractured fairytales that comprise the journey of my life, the first and last that would be rewritten is leaving eretz yisrael. Being there at 18, a year after my father's death, with only $80 to my name, no Hebrew on a dati kibbutz that tolerated no English so we would be forced to learn the language...it was too much too soon. That I have one daughter who braved all of this, found the courage and skills to make her life, that she survives in the only place for Jews to live, is remarkable and says more about her as a person than I could ever write. The brief year I lived there, was on a kibbutz in Beit Shean and every time I daven, I return to a small place where the kibbutz kept a tiny shack. It was a snack store run by a young woman, and it wasnt the shack but something in that spot that brings me back over and over. I can see the darker earth, the dense vegetation surrounding, protecting the existence of the shack, the long road leading to the main dining room from that isolated quiet spot that was closer to the work fields than anyplace else. I was never comfortable in the dining hall where everyone was a stranger except everyone who lived there and knew one another, the language might have been Chinese for I understood nothing as speaker after speaker went to the mic to make announcements about events or important news for everyone to know about that I never knew about. There was supposed to be an ulpan, but since it was '73 they cancelled ulpan as all hands were needed in the fields or kitchen. Language for me, since childhood, since being able to read and write was the purest most reliable Truth. I could tell what was real when I saw how one parent would say the opposite of what was the truth right in front of us-since my family lived down a rabbit hole in a twight zone, being able to decipher language and find the Truth was essential. Being without language for me, meant being completely lost and defenseless. Using language has meant my survival, whether to pray, to think, to read, write, go to school, to reason and ultimately to make a mess of my life because after a time the mind cannot trust anything but what it thinks it sees, hears and understands, even after initial traumas have passed and the senses continue using fractured interpretative skills stuck in the same groove, like a scratched record that cant skip over itself, then experience is misread, misinterpreted, misunderstood and finally in hindsight if one is lucky as I seem to be one realizes, how totally false one's gestures have been and so, a life not quite lived. Can a person live so many lives as I have and yet be like a dead person, I realize that this is possible as I mentally wander back to that tiny piece of dark moist earth in beit shean and feel an inexplicable peace that is only attainable by being back there. ...may my right hand forget and while lute playing is the literal translation, if the lute player is known by this skill and it defines his life, the loss of his right hand equals spiritual death. As being a Jew is a gift from the same Creator that gifted him with a right hand to create a language of gratitude and recognition of G-d through playing music, not be unable to do so, removes the defining essence from the player, the spark, the Life. Maybe this is the reason we struggle in one location and succeed in another.

Baby kitten & misc.

For 2 days now, a very small kitten has been perched on a wall in our backyard, crying. No mother has come to feed it or care for it, so my assumption is the two cats that were constantly walking, bird catching and diving into the unused chimney around that wall, had a litter and either abandoned all of them or left this one behind. But the little thing just keeps crying. I finally saw where he is and he saw me too and I could see him looking but too frightened to make such a tumble down...from his perch to the garage roof down to the ground. The interesting thing for me is that have been 5 human beings, 3 men and two women who've been tossing furniture, packing up 3 vehicles right along that wall all afternoon, so without a doubt the motherfucking pigs could hear this animal crying and just went about their business, even after I walked over when they came back into the house to get more of their shit, and they returned and saw me looking up calling the kitten. Yeah, see the woman with a cane trying to coax down a terrified kitten -what a laugh and waste of your time. Human beings are racing against their own clocks, attempting more despicable, thieving, lying and lack of moral conscience with each new day. And when I think its hit the lowest point yet, its sinks even lower. People in Washington, who for the first time in decades, are standing up against all media, the WH and liberals, trying to put an end to mindless spending of money we didnt have, wars we had no budgets for and now everytime they try to defend their stance the phoney liberals yell the terrible politicians/tea partiers want to kill Medicaid, Medicare and Social Security. Its business as usual or no business at all-fund all the social welfare BS like the fake healthcare system that is costing a fortune, has doctors fleeing to start their own practices so they can charge what they want (cash, not insurance), no change in immigration, homes keep foreclosing, no jobs, no jobs and unemployment estimated at 9.4%, the media cant bear to bring it up to 10%, that might be insulting to the president who can talk a good line and not much else, even his wind blown sentences are now sounding as patently pasty and meaningless, as he continues each day saying "Now is the time to put aside partisan politics and find a solution" How many times can a man in his position repeat the same thing, be ignored or walked out on, or have his calls not returned and have the gall to continue publically showing up with nothing new to say, nothing to offer, except his right to exercise the 14th amendment, to raise the debt ceiling to protect the economy/country. Maybe that explains his current state of smugness, he knows he can veto any plan and raise the debt ceiling himself, so go knock yourselves out....John Boehner is a hero as much as the president is an incompetent coward. Does anyone care that 10 years late and 2 wars later and approximately 6,000 americans have died- in the Afghanistan debacle a country run by mob rule up in the hills and Russia gave up fighting there yet we jumped in w both feet, we're still in Iraq which becomes more dangerous by the day, our soldiers found Hussein in a cellar, killed his sons, killed bin laden and now a 3rd front in Libya that was supposed to be, "days, not weeks, not months" and we're still there with no exit plan known except maybe by the person who tell the president how to zipper his pants each morning. It will be too late when this country, if this country, ever figures out that not only should we stop policing the world, we cannot police the world, its a whole new place media driven so ground wars in terrains we cannot control or truly know, are useless now. We have enough home boy islamomaniacs inside the US who converted or say they converted and use their bitter empty lives to cause death and misery anyway they can, in the name of...I wont even write His name. Something is making me sick and I dont know if its because I've begun using a certain medication again (injectable rhuematoid med) because I get terrible chills and the runs and so exhausted I got up at 6am and was down again by 10:30. That poor kitten...at least its summertime...I thought maybe in a week or two, if it can survive, it will be strong enough to jump down. Ms. Puss seems to be keeping a visitation schedule because yesterday she was waiting for us and this evening she was right at the bottom of the steps sitting and waiting. Bootie must have seen or heard her because he first gets frantic to go outside suddenly and then plants himself by the back door and stares at me-mental telepathy-let me out, my friend is here. I get everything in order and open the door, he leaves a trail of dust as he darts out and makes a sharp stop at the head of the steps, sits down and they stare at one another. Then Mr. B comes out and she stands up and I saw her begin to prepare for a hiss...so it was Mr. B who threatened her a couple of days ago, she sat down, he sat down but she kept one eye on him as long as he was there. 5 minutes on treadmill, every joint was screaming. Maybe because its new, but walking outside does the same thing. Have to keep at it.

Prices

Landlord leased apartment w washer/dryer in the basement. Neither has worked for weeks, messages left about the dryer leaving clothes sopping wet and warm (yeech) remain ignored. So I bought a wood rake dryer and was using that on the porch until the loon next door decided to make himself comfortable anytime he saw me outside, so I stopped using the wood rake on the porch. But even with that, I cant hand wash linens except a pillow case. Hand washing clothes is not a problem, I started doing that in Bklyn last year when dragging the granny wagon loaded with laundary was just too much and then trying to get the bags back up the steps, so I called a laundry pick up and delivery service. The same 3 bags of laundry that I paid $50 in NY cost $70 in PA. I called Life Alert to price coverage for emergency alert care. $69.95 a month plus an initial set up fee of $98. Nothing with them is in round numbers, like $70 a month or $100. Maybe they think old people will feel safer if they're only paying $69.95 and saving a nickle, so they can save that for a bottle of pop when they take Bessie out with the wagon for a trot to pick up ice for the ice box later, ya think? Fuck Life Alert. And a Mr. Zuckerman called me to discuss their services and schmoozed and pushed and schmoozed, threw in some yiddish, mentioned Ed Koch, kept asking for my card number and then informed me I needed a landline to use their service. They will provide a cell phone, but thats only connected to their exclusive emergency line. Life Alert $70 +$98 Comcast landline $34 + $35 activation fee Laundry $70 ...and each month I keep trying to find any way to cut corners. I had 2 store coupons totaling $8, the checkout fairy doubled them, so my $41 total somehow went down to $21 for 2 fresh roasts, veges, bread. I used the slow cooker and the "roast" is half the size when I bought it, but its the veges I wanted with just a bit of red meat since I'm anemic again. Long term disability co. called unexpectedly this afternoon. They're so nice and always throw me off kilter, because its their job to be 'nice' and find out why they have to kick you off LTD and tell you to go back to work. I spoke to a new rep and I have nothing to hide. Told her that hip replacement is in a few weeks, getting 2nd opinion, finding good doctors after leaving NY hasnt been easy. My PC flat out announced that Fibro is a mental disorder (think I noted that in an earlier post) but Epstein Barr is a 'real' virus because he has it, so that proves it exists. But I already kicked the pathetic rheumi he referred me to, to the curb, so I dont want to boot everyone at once. And its a good thing I didnt because I knew doctors had to be in place so when she asked I gave her PC's name and contact info and also told her, he sez Fibro doesnt exist, but the new rhuemi I have an appt with does treat it and everything else, so I'll have that info for her soon. She told me to zip it unless asked...hmmmm, someone actually being helpful to a client? That's more like something the lawyer would have said. She will be sending paperwork, so I guess its going to be another round of having Dr.s fill in forms...they HATE doing that here. My kids "dont do clean up" my doctors, "dont do forms or form letters" After surgery I need to rethink my living options. My treadmill arrived late today just as it began pouring rain and the poor UPS guy looked so pooped. The box weighed a ton, he pushed it into the kitchen but at least half of the weight was packaging, so by the time I unpacked, then shoved all the foam bits into the 7 ft long box and dragged it out the back to the dumpster and then had to vacuum because you cant leave those tiny white foam bits all around and while I was at it, the bedroom needed its vacuuming because of cat litter and Tatie pulling out Mr. B's fur by the mouthful when they tussle...I too was too popped to even attempt putting that machine together, but there seems to be only 2 poles somehow that get put on, and I've tackled worse projects. 1.5 pain pills and a glass of milk took care the day's pains. If that man, posing as a Jew calls me again trying to sell me a Life Alert plan I'm going to block him. Ms. Pussycat came by last night, she sashays and meanders slowly and then meows and Bootie heard her, ran onto the porch and as she came closer toward the steps I heard hissing and growling! Well, that was a first and I dont know who was saying what to whom but she moved back and Bootie made it clear he was Master of His Domain as he spread himself across the entire top step. He's learned some nasty tricks from Mr. B...who does the same thing to him, blocking his entry or exist to a room. I brought her a small dish, which is now her dish, and after eating she laid down in a rough gravelly part of the ground, so I brought out a piee of clean cotton and laid it down, patted it and showed her she could lie on it. I did everything but lay down on it, but she stayed a safe distance from the Man of the House...the same guy who goes belly up when you sing to him "You are my Sunshine, my only sunshine..." please dont take my Tatee away!

Shmarya Rosenberg

The Jewish Daily Forward published today the arrest of Rabbi M. Keller, pedophile. Not alleged, the list of complaints trails from Israel to the US and who knows where else. But who keeps the Jewish community informed, thereby protected and aware, it is Shmarya Rosenberg whose website Failed Messiah has for over a decade led the clarion call for frum communities to wake up and smell the shmutz already. From shady business practices to sexual abuse swept under the rugs, he has shown mesiras nefesh where rabbonim and similar leaders stepped back, not wanting to soil themselves or their families. While I love the Rebbe for the life he provided my family all the years we lived in CH, there were simultanenous dark times, that only now, decades after my children are now grown, are coming to light. And yet rabbis continue to argue, who are we to report abuse to? We must continue to Ask-The-Rav first so he can determine whether the incident warrants secular meddling in community affairs. This does not mean only when a child is molested, this includes domestic violence of any kind. G-d rest his soul, until today I can see Rav Dworkin looking at me under his eyelashes in his dimly lit office and questioning if my ex was acting out because maybe I wasn't "doing enough as a wife?" The audacity to ask a woman pregnant 5x in 6 years, while nursing and without any family help if she's busy between the sheets-blame the victim-or in our case it was victim(s) since my children were recipients of his wrath when the mood struck him, like I didnt get them into bed fast enough for him so his evening could begin. Well, enough of my ancient tsouris, its along time a'comin that the doors of being opened, the rugs are being pulled back and the curtains are parting. I will say to anyone stopping by here, do not make the mistake in assuming the problem of abuse in any form lies only with rabbonim or people who have obvious authority over children, its the bus drivers, maintenance men and aids who work unnoticed that also must be carefully checked. I do not make this suggestion without cause and will say no more because this is a decades old issue and my children are adults now. While my little blog blathers on daily about whatever looms in my world, Shmarya is working for the klal, whether you agree with all his work or not, he is a true hero for all of us.

Died overnight

It was too quiet this morning, so after morning prayers I went out on the porch, the bluejays had nothing to say, not a squawk or a screech and nothing was moving in the brushes were I left the babyJay. I figured he or his parents got him back into the nest safely and returned inside to put together some medical equipment that came at 10:45PM last night-yes, you read that right. And I was wondering how neighbors could bang on my door at 10:30pm, seems the club life may end at 9pm but the night life goes on as needed. The large heavy packing box went out on the porch, the boys followed me and Ms. Pussycat, our calico princess was sitting on the side of the house peeking up at our porch. I asked her if she had had breakfast and she ambled under the porch window where I was talking to her and meowed her whiney little lady like meow. So once again I told her to wait and we brought her a tiny dish of food, of course Mr. Boo ran over to his dish and pulled the rag rug over both dishes, maybe thinking I was going to serve his food to her. He was concerned last night when I popped open a can of their food to try to feed the bluejay. I walked to the back where I had left the baby last night and found him down inside a thicket of branches. He must have hopped over and tumbled in a couple of inches too deep to be able to get out. Still it didnt seem right to leave him like that so I picked him out gently to be sure he was dead and then brought him inside, wrapped him in a single sheet of papertowel and we went back outside with a rake. The side of the house is shaded and has soft moist earth unlike the rest of the backyard which has gravel or alot of heavy branches and poison ivy against the far brick wall. I dug a hole, placed him down and covered him with as much earth as I could. The bluejays must have known he was dead, because when I took up from the branches a few squawks went out and continued as I buried him. I doubt it was anything more than them being annoyed their property was being touched. Since I was digging I took the impatiens plant from the porch and replanted it near his little mound. Impatiens dont like alot of sun and this spot is shaded almost all the time. A house painter working for the landlord came by and when I explained why I was raking the ground he chuckled and said, "well, dem birds prolly found him and killed 'em lass nite."

Hungry big mouth

BabyJay turns out to be very hungry. The recipe for fledgling Jays who might have tried taking off before they're ready and flopped is to try to re-nest them or leave them where they fall---unless there are obvious predators around. So with the heavy rain storms and stray cats, this little guy will be staying the night, if its warm and sunny tomorrow, he's going back outside. He had warm milk with ground matzah to start and after the first syringe was tucked between his beak he kept opening and closing looking for the next mouthful...poor baby. I had to just give him a bit and wait. It's too much to dump on his stomach at once. I have raw shredded beef and warmed water which I think he needs more than milk. So in a while he'll get water, I'll see if he's interested in meat, we're going to tell him its a worm we caught for him.

BlueJay baby

BlueJays make a racket-they squawk, screech, call and caw...and that's on a good day. But this morning the noise level reached crisis mode so that even a human could tell something was wrong. The BlueJays normally chase the stray cats around the back of the house. They come at them like dive bombers, swooping down and soaring back into the branches while screeching. It seems like a game because I've never seen a cat actually stalk the birds who move so much faster and are so noisy in their threats. But this afternoon there had been a short heavy storm. I went outside as the rain was ending, the thunder still rumbled and I put out a bag of trash and on the way back to the steps noticed a small huddled lump sitting on the cement step by the old unused garage. A bird doesn't sit alone, especially with his elders (i dont know if its a he or she) flapping past and screeching instructions to get his little behind back up into the nest. But he could'nt, he could only hop/flap, hop/flutter. So I tried first to talk softly to calm him, but even looking at me with his big clear eyes sideways, he wasnt sure and hopped under the single parked car. The drizzle was still coming down and I brought out a box with some crushed cereal hoping he might be hungry enough to hop inside, at least until some Grand Poo Bah Bird could figure out a solution of getting him back upstairs. But they just continued flying, swooping, yelling and about an hour later I checked, he had come out from under the car and was a sitting duck for any passing cat, and there are many. Normally I would leave nature alone-stray cats being the exception, the bird might be too wounded and need to be left alone. But he seemed clear eyed, could flap both wings so I brought a light scarf out and slowly sidled up to him, dropped it on him which of course brought a squawk and then gathered him up, put him and the scarf into the box and sat on the porch with him until I could figure out if he was alive or dead because his eyes were shut, but he seemed to be breathing. After a half hour of being finger tip petted and cooed at he settled down and I open the scarf to give him more room, as the scarf parted he became startled, hopped up, began flapping and screeching, but again couldnt fly. Luckily he calmed down once my hand was around both wings and his legs latched onto my finger for dear life. I became a tree branch for awhile because no amount of gently trying to remove myself from his grip was working. Mr. B was meowing at the window sill, then the door becuase I had shut it and he knew I was out there doing 'something' that was not something he would approve of. Earlier in the day he had to whomp Bootie on the head for not sharing the toy I gave them, so he wasn't in the mood for anymore nonsense. I still had BabyJay in my hand, his eyes wide open, his foot curled around my finger and had to ease myself into the house, bring the box inside and of course both boys wanted to see what the fuss was. A bird! a real bird and they could sniff it and Mr. B almost began cleaning it, but I wouldnt let him do that just yet. I needed something deep enough to keep him from hoping out, and found a wicker basket, lined it with a towel, then the scarf I used placed in a corner and laid it in the tub. But he still was hanging on to my finger so we went into the living room, I opened my blouse and put him against my chest, to feel the heartbeat and calm down. He fell asleep and I could finally feel him breathing deeper, his little white breast heaving up and down. His legs seem okay, both can grip so I dont think they're broken. I carried him into the bathroom and nestled him into his temporary home, Mr. B is going in and out pretending he's on guard duty. I offered BabyJay some catfood, but he wasnt having any of it. I may try some raw meat later. I called the Humane Society, because it may be best to place him back outside and let nature take its course, its their call. In the meantime, I have tweezers and some red meat I can make tiny 'worm'

shreds and see if he's hungry. Not sure if the cats will tolerate having the bathroom door closed tonight..but either way its likely anyone will get much sleep...he's a loud little bird.

Its not enough

...to ask someone to do something for me, because from the Beginning until last week, when I was lectured by my own child that I need to be the parent and stop waiting around for my kids to visit, its the most amazing thing, I cannot ask another human being for anything. THe response is always the same. You're strong, you can handle it. I am strong enough to cut my heart out and eat it, rather than ever ask 5 children that came from my belly that took hours of labor, nursing and deliberate desire to have them, rather than ever ask them, I'll eat my own heart. If it means not having surgery and living in this shit hole apartment in a wheelchair, I'll butcher my own heart and eat it, than to ask them for shit. Bli neder. We all carry something, this is my package--isolation. Watching my father lived a life of being shunned, I turned to religion only to find it continues. I said that I get it, I do, now its just dealing with the pain of realizing I moved to a place, like getting married and finding yourself more lonely than if you had lived knowing no one else was around...and yet they are, just too busy to be bothered or explain what irks them. My entire life was this way except when my father was alive. THe one human being who 'saw' and talked to me, for no reason except he found something worth looking at and listening to. I'm done interpreting or translating what is and isnt said. I'm resigned as if I was still in NY, let weeks, months go by until someone decides to call or send a text message. I may start a new FB page, a Place for ITS.

A must read, for me

Few books written get my adrenaline flying, this is a must read, if only to see if her perceptions are on target; Wright has been in direct touch with the situation for years. Glad to see someone outside the Arab world understands the miracle occuring our lifetimes, that is the Arab Spring.

Of you could buy anything....

...what would it be? There are some of us who, at the thought of spending money on ourselves, go weak in the knees. Not because we go out spend everyday, but because we buy at thrift stores or second hand, rinse aluminum foil for another use (my kids love that one) hang a paper towel to dry (for reuse on drying cat's food dishes) or add water to the dish detergent bottle to get that last blast of soap. Cheap, did you say cheap? Well maybe by some standards...go look at the trash cans, dumpsters or at your neighbors stuff at the curb and you'll realize the amazing waste that goes on in the US. So after growing up rich and then at 14, recalling my Dad telling me and sister he had spent the small savings he put away for us, we went from 100 to zero in an instant. Because I was close to my father and had watched him age, nothing sadder than an old addict trying to come to grips with a life almost ending, the grief he caused so many, because of this, poverty was just another chapter for me, the downward spiral was from toddlerhood until he finally passed away. The odd thing is when I would go to shop, either for food or clothes I rarely could buy what I went into a store to purchase. If it was food, my mother would be right there next to me whispering, 'You cant eat that, dont take that, we never ate that-alluding to weight, artificial ingredients, weight or weight-leaving me with a basket of foods I would buy, refrigerate and not want to eat. Kale anyone? Taking myself clothes shopping was hideous when I went with her, tall, dark beautiful and me...chubby schoolgirl who didnt get a bra until a saleswoman said, "this girl should be wearing a bra already!!!!" as if was a matter of neglect for children's protective services to look into. Or walking along Broadway past National Shoes and looking in the windows at all the new school year shoes, red or blue with side buckles and designs at the toes, or patent leather shoes. With all our money, I was allowed only one style of shoe, saddle shoes. Those occasionally faddish freakish black/white lace up oxfords with a reddish sole that classmates referred to as clod-hoppers. Shopping at Best & Co. each year for a new wardrobe (like who the heck did my mother think she was buying school girls 'wardrobes'?), a new coat, usually velvet trimmed with matching hat, white gloves, Easter dresses (I never got this concept, my father who adamantly refused a christmas tree, allowed her to buy us Easter outfits, soup to nuts, and then sat home alone drinking as we went out to Jersey to spend the holiday with her Italian family...I guess you can say NO, just so many times). But the fancier stuff got worn to the old Metropolitan Opera House--a girl of 12 never forgets Joan Sutherland singing Lucia di Lammermoor or weeping without knowing why, watching the breathless flutterings of ballerina Margot Fonteyn or Rudolph Nureyev when the Bolshoi came to NY. Radio City Music Hall (Christmas show) Carnegie Hall for Young Children's Concerts with Leonard Bernstein. To get dressed up to go out after dark, into the creaking old metal elevator at the Met and carried upstairs to the floor where the box seats were, crying afterwards in the taxi going home, as if the world on stage withall its sorrows and murder was still filled with more genuine love, passion and humanity than what I faced each day pouring J&B into a glass and waiting to take Dad to bed. My father was a manufacturer of women's wear, when "The Garment Industry" was an industry centered in NYC at 34th street and he was 'a contender' in the game. Rich, ruthless and already married, he left his Jewish wife to marry my mother, 30+ years younger who never wanted children, but the security of what she thought an older Jewish man could provide. She had already 'raised' my cousins, her nieces, nephews from a daughter of her older sister who simply refused to be bothered with a renegade child and subsequent grandchildren. By the time my sister and I came around, kids were old news, an obligation that came with the deal one made with the devil. My kids have taken to telling me that life is not one long historical timeline, that incident of one time either my own memories or things done and said in their lives, are of no importance in the now, these memories just complicate issues at hand. Yet I live with daily, am filled with memories that have stifled me in being able, in this instance only, to go out and buy anything without someone back there making a judgement or comment. Wearing black in NY was the thing to do for so many years that my shopping phobias remained a non issue. I appeared to be in fashion. What's another black sweater? As for covering my feet, boots in the fall/winter over jeans and sandals all summer. Growing up ignorant of having flat feet, these two simplified shoe solutions worked out great. Then came the poverty of marriage compounding the loss of father/wealth and buying anything stopped for almost 15 years. How so you ask? My children wore donations, my maternity clothes were worn for 7 years straight. I think the only new things I ever bought were those velveteen house gowns we loved in CH that were bought erev yom tovim. A styled wig, a new housecoat and shoen, you were ready to serve dinner to a full table of guests who had no idea our food was all donated by community charity funds. And believe me, as sick as it may sound, it was better to have at least one guest, to draw the focus away from my oldest son who struggled to say kiddish and would be pulled by the ear or ordered to leave the table and not get dinner. Choose the nightmare you prefer. So my ability to buy things is loaded with so many issues, most of which I am aware of but have not been able to shake off. In the last couple of years I've learned to tune out my mother's voice, it was easier after she actually died and now can only rant via dreams, so I can food shop usually responsibly and sometimes actually try something new, like a frozen chicken pot pie or Coffeemate...oh c'mon you have things you look over your shoulder before tossing into the cart, we all do. And eBay opened a world that made having to spend hours walking, collecting clothes to try on in tiny rooms with little privacy, finding you're so fat you have to get dressed, and go back out there again hunting down the right size dress or outfit, not the one you thought you were. And in the 60's and '70s manufacturers were doing polyester for larger women, shapeless, dark paisleys or solid dresses, or prints you would wonder what large woman would walk around in, as if in defiance you might wear lime green shift or a red peasant dress and no one would mention what a sack of potatoes you looked like. I actually learned to love clothes from buying on ebay because for so little money, sometimes paying more for shipping than the sweater or dress, it allowed for experimentation in styles and colors...imagine a white empire dress with rosettes along the waistline after years of being hidden in head to toe black. But to answer my original question...if I could buy anything, I bought a treadmill. You would think I found a diamond ring, but what I found was an affordable machine, built for older people who need to walk, and it has excellent ratings by They Who Rate Such Things for the buying public. Seems many things today, from clothes to machines are being made for larger or heavier people. My hope is by investing in this, using it will make me smaller and healthier, ultimately putting less pressure on my joints, causing less pain, using less pain meds and being able to get outside to the amazing museums and parks in my new home town. That's what I bought for myself. I have to say it and say it again because I've wanted this for so many years and when my income was double what it is now, even then there were excuses why it wouldnt be possible. Go out today and buy something, even an ice cream cone. A pleasurable thing not a responsible thing, an irresponsible joyous item that will not only fill that hole inside but maybe will help the hole close up and the sun will begin to shine, inside and out.

The Response To My Fundraising Appeal

The Response To My Fundraising Appeal

a medical conundrum

So I moved, and its like Alice fell down the rabbit hole and everything seems a world of opposites from the medical world in NY. There hasn't been singing flowers but the doctors certainly sing a different tune, out of both sides of their mouths. Had a primary care appt this morning, which was originally going to be for medical clearance for hip surgery but since surgery is postponed due to pnuemonia, it was basically to get med refills and to catch up since I saw him last...which was at least 6 wks ago, alots happened, doctors he referred me to have been fired. Once again I'm told fibromyalgia doesnt exist, its a figment millions of people suffer from and its 'nothing more than depression-its a mental disease.' For this theory alone I should find another doctor. The fact that he has a list of my medications and can see I take things specifically for FM and he continues to prescribe refills a requested strikes me as either hypocritical or as long as he can charge the insurance co and get paid, doesnt care. OR, even worse there could be an entire cottage industry, pharmaceutical and doctors who pander to patients with symptoms listed under the FM umbrella while even they aren't sure FM exists as an autoimmune disorder. I said to him, well do you accept Epstein-Barr? For years people were disbelieved, shunned for being lazy from the fatigue etc. "Oh yes, in fact I have Epstein Barr, its a virus, but look I function, work do everything." Uh huh...so if you have it, it exists. Well I functioned too for decades until I literally fell flat on my face with my cane flying at a construction site in front of the college-I had to get whacked upside the head by escorting angels to finally get that I had to get going, and get out. The bald gentleman from next door last asked me if I had done "anything today or just lounged around?" The incredible audacity of some people. I think its jealousy that they have to go out, deal with the world, eat sh*t everyday and I've been given permission to sit down now, a time out for however long...but truly earned and I am not explaining it, or defending disability anymore to anyone, especially strangers. So as I"m going into August meetings with new surgeon, rheumatologist, I saw today that yontif is pretty early with Rosh Hashanah first week September. Maybe we can push surgery back until October, its not that far away. The PC was wanting to suggest another set of doctors he knows for me to settle down with. Told him I was checking around myself. Hopefully I will check into seeing a new PC. He came into the room and launched right away into telling me how bad both hips are as if we had never discussed it and when I explained surgery was off for the moment due to pnuemonia, he goes into the system to see what the urgent care doctors wrote. The first radiology reading of my chest xrays diagnosed pnuemonia NOS, second reading-Normal. "You didnt have pnuemonia-you had bronchitis, probably coughing up alot of mucus and stuff, you know if you cough hard enough you can break a rib, not that you did, but that might be why your rib cage hurt so much." What is wrong with these doctors-is the air thinner up here in PA? I had a dry cough, coughed nothing up, and my left lobe manually felt to be swollen and still does, he didnt dare touch my rib or chest. It still hasnt cleared, he refused to send me for an xray, tapped my back, had me cough,"I dont hear anything, sounds clear." I think the longest part of our conversation was which version of my pain med I want him to refill, the one with more or less acetominophen "because ya gotta which your liver, its not the narcotic part I'm worried about, its your liver." Right. Kids are not speaking to me. My oldest son made some despicable comments about the Rebbe and CH, was generally insulting and obnoxious during and after dinner and because I wrote him an email calling him on his disgusting behaviour, I'm the problem. Well they can close ranks if that's how they deal with him, but they're not doing him any favors. I tried making him closer, brought him to Dr. with me so he would feel like The Man who knows whats going on, instead he tell the doctor he's in med school and acts similarly as in my apt, I'll say no more because somewhere in tehillim its written to not speak ill about your kids. A primary mitzvah is kivud av v em and that's not on anyone's agenda, really. And if not spoken out loud, the default on why respecting or honoring a parent is not necessary for them is their mother walked away from the marriage and their father is a sadistic monster who seems to have mellowed with his list of illness and age. Middle daughter just called to say she would stop by in morning. I made scones, I thought it would be around mid morning before work. She told me I sound way to stressed and anxious lately, that I need to find things to do besides watch TV (that's only in the evening, its off all day) and go to Dr. appointments. That I need to understand that everyone is very busy-they have relationships, starting new jobs, the oldest with the potty mouth has a full schedule at summer college, everyone is so very busy. When I emailed my youngest daughter after leavving the urgent care clinic that I had pnuemonia, it was a reassurance that I wasnt havng a breakdown, I was SICK and on my way to pick up medicine. Never heard from her since, except an email yesterday after I emailed them about the jerk next door and wanting to move. If we had conversations everything wouldnt be in crisis mode, but I'm being told even conversations take too much time; I was told this evening I'm acting like an old woman in a nursing home who complains her kids dont visit enough, and I'm not even that old yet. How's that for a bunch of great adults who live in walking distance of my fucking apt? The really funny thing is a frum woman told me even before I moved here to come and be prepared to handle my own life, dont look to the kids for anything, let them come when they want. I should have listened! And now I will. Now I got it.

Storms galore

Electricty was down for about an hour this afternoon when a huge storm hit. One sharp crack and brilliant explosion and the lights, AC, fans TV, went dark. Bootie is fearless and so he went right to the window sill to watch the sheets of rain pouring down, but another explosion and blast of light was too much even for him. I disconnnected everything, unplugged, switched off power packs and turned on transistor radio. Looking outside the front porch, cars were almost floating in a flash flood. We're about to get another round, the thunder is rumbling, cats are pooped out from the noise, heat and running to hide, so maybe I'll get some sleep for a change. There's a new habit where meowing starts at 2:30am, even if I delay feeding until 11pm and leave some dry out. Not sure if its food that's causing this crying. Mentally prepping for PC appt in morning...so much has happened since I last saw him 6 wks ago and not much is good.

pnuemonia part deux

Appears 7 days of azithromycin was not enough to knock out whatever form of pnuemonia I was walking around with. Left rib cage feeling tender again, dry cough. I should just start sewing my own shroud.

punctuation....

I'm not a lazy writer, but more from the school of Henry Miller, meandering from place to idea to scene as I write hence the lack of line breaks and punctuation...but no one was as bad as Faulkner whose sentences often went on for an entire page. Feel free to complain.

Heretic Rabbi

The Jewish Daily Forward reran an article from 1999 about Louis Jacobs, a rabbi described as brilliant and a theologian in the UK. At some point he took an intellectual position that questioned the root of many Jewish traditions where they came from, why Jews do them and said in conclusion, these tradition come from Man, not G-d. Which caused him many problems, he was asked to leave his teaching position at university, was shunned, called an apikorus and continued his research and writing. Brilliant minds, however tormented, are consumed with their path toward truth and he continued writing. So I want to read his work, it was very interesting as it seems to have an oddly similar thread that muslims use to denigrate contemporary Judaism-that it is not the 'original' Torah we observe but a rewritten set of laws and traditions by rabbis and the original Torah is lost, but redefined by their so=called prophet who created Islam. That so called prophet was sent and is called the final prophet because, muslims believe he received visitations and messages from the angel Gabriel over a period of many years, for the purpose of correcting all the changes made in holy texts. This may sound like a hodge podge to some, but this small link explains for why there is a certain obstinancy in muslim beliefs, religious protectionism...and this extends even to their own collection of oral tradition, given over from those first close to their prophet, then those who were second tier, and so forth in terms of witnessing and hearing tales. But even the first oral tradition was not written down until it was clear the Quran and observance was being forgotten or changed as the original inner circle passed away. So 'hadiths' which might be comparable to Midrash for the sake of writing this, came at least 3 generations after the death of their prophet. Since there is such contempt and scorn for Jews arguing with G-d or disobeying Him in Quranic writing, it will be interesting to read what parallels Jacobs might bring up. Oh thee of shadowed faith and full of fear, this is questionable fodder for your already confused brain:-)

The Line between Faith and Fear

Those old demons sure can hang on tight. When someone like the man in the building next door comes around, a bully with serious emotional issues, who challenges a woman sitting with a cane on her own turf, comes up my steps uninvited to show me he can do it, no matter what I say, faith flies out the window. I got so rattled with fear that hip surgery was erased, all I could contemplate was safety, how to get away, flight- not fight-just flight. With enough money I might have followed thru on getting out of here, but my leg is so weakened now, its hard even to go 2 blocks to market and back. Postponing surgery because of borrowing money to move again, frightening the cats again and not taking care of really important business like health is an indication that my emotional issues are more of a problem than the loon causing them. I have anxiety medicine, but never use it except for sleep, that was its original purpose. Maybe that is something to reconsider for a period of weeks, this move has been stressful, lonely and situations like this just bring back old traumas. Since the landlord wont tolerate anything built into the apt, like a trac along the ceiling for a curtain, a room divider at the foot of the bed will block any window view, and if I'm on the porch later with the cats, it can block any view into the apartment as this man appear to look past the bedroom into the next room, has no compunction about staring inside. Maybe he's considering what might be of value, if not to be taken by him, by someone else he sends. Yes, paranoia is my middle name, and it continues after living with people who generated it. Parents who read diaries, husbands who stole saved money, letters, pictures for nefarious reasons, alcoholics, liars, bullies, addicts in one way or another every step of the way. My last bosses were control freaks. I spoke to one about being a professional mentor for me when she first came to the college. She said I would have to do everything she said, be available 24/7, have a dedicated cell phone and not question her directives. I thought about it, and told her I had already been in a kind of cult, that experience had been enough, but thanks anyway. I dont know if mentoring exists this way for everyone, or she was trying to scare me away, but this is brain washing or slavery. She left the college and the young woman who she did get to become like a protege, left the Masters program she was in, put off her marriage for 5 years and now is a secretary in the VP's office. The salary is 5 figures, maybe that's compensation for selling your life to someone who, in the end, does whats is in her own best interest, not the lives she turned upside down. And no where in all this, do I recall what I read every morning in tehillim, all the words of David ha Melech asking for protection, to be cured of despair and weeping-albeit he reminds G-d his own faith never wavered, just that daily living is not a bowl of cherries, so use your Right Hand to squash those who are after me, harrass me for no reason except their own gain and glory etc. David has faith, seemingly not fear. I have faith, as long as I'm reading or studying, otherwise I'm immersed in fear. If fear was not the dominating factor in my life maybe I would try to go out and walk the neighborhood. I'm so afraid of getting hit in a four lane crossing because the lights change quickly that getting 'there' and 'back' sucks the life out of me. This might change after hip surgery and my legs are made equal in length, right now its ridiculous and I felt like a moving target even while living in NY. Woman w cane and bag limping..what could we do with this mess for fun or profit? So I discovered from reading 2 people who interest me that I will continue to read up on, one is Miriam Adahan and her website. A frum female therapist, I havent read enough yet but it seems she lives in Israel. I'm praying praying that the female rhuematologist I found will be half as good as my NY doc, but at least she's treated everything I'm dianosed with. My living will and Will need to be notarized, so if the President doesnt play with social security in the coming days, I have a list of things that need doing, getting these documents finished is priority. I also found an orthodox cemetary that has space to purchase plots. This is such a load off my heart, its impossible to explain, but having parents who demanded cremation for all kinds of bitterness and bizaare reasons and having to fight my mother to protect my father's remains, tho he was cremated anyway, and then my sister telling me that my religious beliefs is not my mother's problem, she wanted cremation and thats what needs to be done. Another bully with no money to back up her big mouth. One sin after another seems to follow me. You can read all the texts, even the one proscribed by rabbonim, but the demons still find a way to coming visiting. Beloved Isaac, how well you know this world-at times I feel like a tuning fork vibrating from the whispers that cant stay and wont leave.

Shabbos, this week

Well last week Shabbos was, but I wasn't. It was the shabbos day of seeking medical help at the urgent care clinic, diagnosed w pnuemonia and I just finished the first round of antibiotics. First round because NY rhuematologist may want a second course, depending on xray outcome. But my ribcage while not painful, remains oddly lumpy or swollen. I dont think my stomach can handle any more antibiotics, even with eating yogurt. So trying to get back on trak, made a decent hot shabbos meal for Shabbos night, apartment cleaned, Parsha Pincus. As for the morning wake up sounds...I began using methotrex again last night as per NY rheumi, so after feeding the felines around 6am, fell into a deep sleep. But my deepest sleep is always around this time, its the time of dreams as well. I thought my capacity to love or recall loving someone was long gone, but I dreamed of O for the first time in many years. He looked distant, preoccupied and not relating to the surroundings we were in. There was a 2nd couple, the woman began crawling on him and he pulled back, but unlike myself in a waking state, I became enraged and screamed for her to get off him, take her hands off him and tore at her hair and body to protect him/us. In real life, he left me for 'her' and I dont know if he's even still alive. But I rarely dream in this manner unless the subject dreamed of isn't in some crisis. As for me, dime store analysis tells me that my very delayed enraged reaction to being surplanted by another woman who knew I was somewhere in the back ground, is perfectly healthy, albeit late. So I missed the birds this morning, the whirring of someone's hedge cutter droned me awake. followed by someone trash being slammed into the dumpster beneath my window...both cats were perched silently, curled in sleep on their respective dressers. Oh last night Miss Puss came strolling by. It was almost 10pm and she was further from the porch and didnt realize we were sitting out there. I saw her and called to her. This cat cannot be a stray, either she was abandoned or is lost. She sees me, listens and then sits primly when I ask here to wait, I'll bring her some dinner. She does not move until I reappear (3x now same behavior)with a tiny dish of the boys' food and place it near so she can smell it but in a secluded position so she feels safe. She lets me pet her. I would like to scoop her up on night, put her in a case and take her to be checked, see if she's chipped or not. The boys are hysterical to watch. As soon as Mr B saw I brought her a dish and watched me feed her, he went inside to his own food dish to see if his food was still there, took a few licks and returned to the porch. Bootie didnt move, he likes having visitors, stretches his paws out, crosses them and lays his little face on his paws to watch whomever has stopped by...they remain happily on the porch, its as far, so far, as they want to go. They seem content to watch what goes on from a safe position. However last night a fire fly came right over them and when it twinkled they both swatted at it, smacking one another, almost tumbling down the steps. That's too much excitement for Mr. B. He went back inside and sat in the doorway. Then 2 minutes later came back out, walked over to Bootie and whomped him on the head. Bootie is getting used to this disciplinary method that seems to mean in this case, You dumb*ss we could have both fallen down these steps Since the fire fly scooted away from them both, perhaps the lost fly got Mr.B more annoyed than Booties roly poly way of life. Bootie has no sense of how round he is and small a space might be. He has rolled of surfaces a number of times, no spatial conceptualization, which I think is very particular to cats in general, their whiskers providing spatial sense and safety. At some point Bootie recognized that rolling on his back, belly up and staring at me would get him something tasty and a tummy massage. He now comes around because he loooooves the Furminator and sits like a pasha, rolling side to side to give me brushing access to every bit of his fat self, watching the fur pile accumulate. Then we toss his fluff to the birds off the porch so it can be used for nesting. At first he found dispersal of his hair a concern. He who eats embroidery thread if I dont hide it. As a kitten he would chew on my hair. I think my son told us that he does this because he needs to chew on grass...I need to get them some safe chew plants. I'm so isolated that if it isn't on Amazon, it might as well not exist. The Furminator was purchased because Mr. B has very long hair, but thankfully it doesnt matt, but he clearly looks in need of a brushing. anyone touching his hind parts or stomach while he is fully conscious risks a hiss, growl and smack. A homeopathic calming gel was also purchased to sooth Mr. B who seems anxious from noises or my going out, I tried the shmear on paw technique an also after cutting his nails rubbed some on his very dry hard back toes, which he protested vigorously but seemed relieved afterwards. He's not one to be picked up for cuddling. Debt ceiling still hovering, Leibi Kletzky z"tl is resting IMH, may his parents find peace, amazing how antibiotics erase emotional dark and gloom, either an unrecognized medical fact or I am a medical anomaly. I had been buying some packaged foods easily prepared for post op period, ashamed to say that included ramen noodles. The sodium content almost blew my head off, I had to put them outside for passersby to take and enjoy. This is not a product to offer the kids...

Raising the Debt Ceiling?

"The trouble with Governments, is that you eventually run out of other people's money (taxpayers) to spend"...Margaret Thatcher forgive me Margaret for playing with your memorable quote

too much...

I'm feeling shellshocked, as I guess many in the Jewish community are today over the murder of young Lieb Kletzky in Boro Park area. For me, the crime is not simply painful that a Jewish child, still pure and absorbing the world in innocense, is slaughtered and G-d forbid who knows what else, by someone with a Jewish name. Whether he is actually Jewish...ge vais. His ex-wife appears to be using a controlled substance or her adrenaline was soaring as she slurred during her interview about her murderous ex "He's normal..." They're all normal, the nicest guys, mild mannered, quiet, always said Hi & Bye and little else. Landlord has 1 washing machine and 1 dryer in the basement. This basement could be used in a horror film, cobwebs, daddy long leg spiders, mold everywhere, rickety bannister and when anyone used the dryer, they would scoop the lint tray and toss if behind the dryer. This house is 99.5 percent wood, a fire from dust & lint catching from the heat would be very serious. But wait, this isnt a problem, because the dryer doesnt get hot! Maybe the landlord's safety precaution is to leave the dryer cool thereby insuring tenant's lives and his building. But my lease notes there is a washer and dryer. You take your sopping wet clothes, because the rinse/wringe cycle rinses and doesnt much wringe and put them in the dryer, come back 45 minutes later to a load of warm soggy clothes. I see other tenants loading their cars and returning with dry cleaning and laundry bags. I think it time to use a laundry service once a month. It is not an easy matter to load laundry bags with wet laundry, its weight at least doubled and try hauling that up the steps with one's own ass and a cane. So I bought an all wood folding rack which initially I was using on the porch to dry clothes and small items, and would cover it with a light sheet for privacy. I hesitate now to put anything on the porch because of baldy. I could hear the landlord discussing the 'incident' that I asked him not to discuss, my only question was, is this tenant someone I need to be concerned about since he bangs on my door at 11:30pm? Or is this just Pittsburgh? The cats still demand to go out a couple of times a day, so I cant be scared off my own porch. Even though I left a small table on the porch, it only holds 40 lbs, so anyone using it as a step up to pet the nice kitty sleeping on the window sill at 3am, wont find the table much use. I'm going to start a new prologue to my daily blogging...having left the constant sirens, screaming mexican toddlers/daycare beneath my apt window, the car repair business that preceeded the mexican toddler day care and that involved constant metal clanging, air hoses pumping tires, or the Chinese 'immigrants' tearing down and rebuilding buildings that suit their peculiar purposes-labelling every residence a 'condo'- the yellow silt or dust that required at least a weekly once over throughout the apartment-having left this paradisio for Pittsburgh, I should share the new morning sounds that are quite different here. In general I am awakened by birds chirping. If people have children, they are kept quiet and attended to. Its interesting how some cultures go deaf when a baby screams. I listened to one child, sounded like an infant scream for 6 SIX HOURS until I finally gave up and called children's services. They didnt make it to the correct address, but something must have been conveyed through the street because the daycare wasnt having kids over for weeks and then it was quieter...I once yelled SHUT UP when at 7:30 am their back door opened and out ran kids onto the astro turf, yelling at one another fighting over bouncing balls and who gets into the plastic house and who is husband and orders everyone around and who is the wife. Or the constant frying of garlic for eggplant in garlic sauce or garlic chicken, garlic dumplings. I'm thinking of getting a bread maker. I'm tired of paying $3+ for a loaf or $1.60 for a loaf in plastic that never gets hard or moldy, disqualifying it as BREAD. Then I worry if I make my own bread, which I was doing in Brooklyn for Shabbos..and nary a crumb was wasted...that I will eat said bread machine bread. Bread w butter, bread w cheese of all kinds, bread w jam and tea. No reason to shop for anything, there would be bread. Very healthy diet for a diabetic. Ah, but I use Splenda in my coffee and tea. Really gets old to not smoke (I'm wanting to smoke, havent done it, but want to) not drink, not supposed to eat sugar, shouldnt be eating at all and focusing on losing weight. The only reason I do not currently smoke is the cats. My health is so fried, not smoking almost seems a non sequitur. The debt ceiling should not be raised. We pumped billions into the system, mainly the financial partners of Geithner and whats his name and have shinola to show for it. Foreclosures are mounting and people are realizing they can stay in their homes despite the paper warnings slapped on their doors that the Sheriff is coming to remove tenants and property belongs to the bank. Let it crash, all of it. My disability checks wont come in either, lets see what the phuck happens. If you can run a goverment in a fiscally responsible manner and have to take order from our debt masters The Almight Chinese, then we dont deserve to be a country, we're already a Chinese satellite, let the Chinese come in and do whatever the hell they want, we sold ourselves and the country-sleep with dogs, get up with fleas.

Curtains & Doctors

After last night's 11;30pm visitation by a bald goy that had the cats scurrying and me unable to sleep until almost 3am, I looked around the room and thought what security 'holes' might be sealed. I had purchased on eBay expensive linen curtains, the kind of curtains I dreamed about once for a home I will never have. They're like opaque gauze, eggshell you cannot see through them and they let light in. 12 panels plus shpg was under $20-once in a lifetime. The front window looks out on the porch and is cat territory (what isnt cat territory is a better question), often Bootee will sleep on the window sill when weather is warm enough, he did that in Bklyn and waited for the sunrise. He's such a sweeetie pie. So I only had one heavy panel there that seemed to provide privacy for me and was open enough for them. When the banging began on the door last night I was lying down reading in bed my eye caught the 3 inch gap where any asshole could lean over take a peek and see, whats going on?Q? Looking around I noticed the curtain over the AC left at least a 6" gap where the 2ndfl windows next door could look in if someone was trying, the fire escape runs along my apartment up to the roof, anyone using it could look in, the window that remains shut because the landlord slapped on sign on it saying "please do not open" seemed closed enough with two of the linen panels, but the slightest movement left gaps here and there...enough. Brought in black garbage bags and sealed that do not open window, then used a beautiful floral shower curtain that has a rod opening, but is thick cotton and cant see anything thru that, hung that up, took down the linen panels and put those up over the AC and used a cafe curtain in the middle. The panels hand on each side, leaving the AC free to work, the cafe is head to toe right above it, closing off any views. That left cat window sill and I used a last cafe curtain which greatly annoyed Mr. B who finds my moving, changing and doing things very upsetting. It wasn't enough I took him out of Brooklyn to move into this damp muggy new place where he's afraid to venture into the other room that has an overhead ceiling fan that seems to look like a large moving bird or bat...but I keep moving things around so he cant get used to where things should be. But that's not true because he has a bed on top of a linen closet, his own wagon covered with blankets, toys and a bloody Tiffany lampshade that has two bulbs that warm him in the deadd of winter, no even that isnt enough, this pompous puss who was rescued from a shelter, from a tall vertical cage filled with black cats meowing for be held, fed and let free...no, he's pouting now, still shaken up from the banging last night, he spent most of today under the bed. There isnt a secure enough spot for him...sometimes I find him just staring at me and I can only imagine what thoughts go thru his pussycat head, he is not happy. I also went out onto the porch, brought everything inside. There was a table out there with a cloth covering it, chairs, a flowering Impatiens plant with red blossoms, a wind chime, a 2nd folding table, a shopping cart so heavy I couldnt use it and my son never put it together when asked to do so at least twice...made in China, the wheels stunk so incredibly bad I could not keep them , even bagged inside the apartment, the stench of whatever chemical was in the wheels made me sneeze. I brought everything inside, except one chair and the small folding table in case I go out with a tea mug or the cell. In other words, porch is out of business, dont bother knocking. finally, finally...I found a new set of doctors here. Doctors with top patient ratings, doctors with awards, without sanctions against them, that accept my insurance (which happens to be excellent) and doctors that are still within the conglomerate medical system that has taken over the state. NY rheumi told me its going on all over the country, medical consolidation, hospitals combining, closing. So is it an enormous sense of relief and I hope since the team I researched and was not referred to by the old boy network I walked into when I first moved here will be a much better set. The PC looked at my list of illnesses and said, Fibro? doesnt exist! That alone should have told me this is the wrong clown, but he had just refilled all my scripts without flinching and prescribed new pain medication. A pain med which is both uselsss for pain, in my case, and completely stops your insides from moving or doing anything. He raved, this is twice the strength of what you're taking, this should be great, up to 4 a day. I can only think some of these doctors are testing patients when they do stuff like this, no one can chew 4 of these pills a day and use the bathroom. I stopped using them after the first week. So he's getting back 3/4 of a bottle and needs to write a script for the old med he took away from me. That will be my last visit, whether he writes the prescription or not. I found a very well liked PC, with years of experience but not too old that he cant think contemporary medicine, a female rheumi that acknowledges Fibro and has treated my type of arthritis and the chief of ortho surgery here, will still see patients, his speciality is hip surgery. So if this man says, oh yeah I also do epidural blocks and can put a new hip in, promise you wont feel a thing, then I'll buy that line. But when a doctor hasnt the time of day to explain what he's going to do except in verbal shorthand and tosses a folder at me, doesnt explain how an epidural can possibly block a major cut, sawing and stapling, then he's not the doctor for me and worst of all, no PCA. I wont bore myself or anyone again with ranting about wanting a PCA, but after '06 surgery and being rendered speechless by indescribable pain, pain so awesome the nurse looked at my eyes, my mouth unable to form words, my hands clutching her, she got it..brought the Dilaudid drip in a PCA and sanity was restored. I dont want to get high, just keep the pain away. I have so much pain every damn day that you could have me chewing qat leaves all day and it wouldnt faze me. And every appointment falls within the 3 weeks. Surgery was moved to August 11, to avoid doing anything during the 3 weeks. Now that its cancelled because of pnuemonia, its like starting from scratch and I took appointments as they were available since most are at least 2-3 weeks from now, but still, during AV. I left the idiotic rheumatologist who misdiagnosed me as just having an arthritic flare, despite 3 weeks of feverish chills, fever stam at .99 in hot weather with chills, nausea etc. "its just the arthritis flaring" --left him an update that its pnuemonia and wished him well, thanked him for his medical care. I think he got the point, because my followup appt with him was cancelled. He left a return note, I hope you feel better soon. I do, knowing I dont have to sit waiting to see you for 2 hours and then another hour in the exam room only to have you forget to send in my prescriptions. anyway, its late, I hope to get some reading in, in peace tonight.

The Jinn Never Leave

When I was a child, many years before being converted by Lubavitch, I had visions, saw ghosts. Dead people came to the end of my bed, and stood there. It happened so often, outside as well as in the dark of my bedroom. I saw ghosts or jinn irridescent and laughing, you couldnt call them transparent because they were like a thousand colored lights in the shape of a human figure and no one saw it, only me. Isaac Singer's writing was never blasphemous for me, it was real. It was not sarcastic or a spoof on chassidus, it was a world of demons and jinn that probably Singer sensed throughout his life. This is not the same as being insane, it is being in touch with a different level, even while functioning in the mundane level we exist in daily. While I lived in Brooklyn, after gettin rid of the human detritus and living alone, I found the mattress moved during the night. At first I thought something alive was caught inside, maybe a mouse. But the mattress was sealed as it was the day it was bought, no holes. And yet something would roll across from right to left, then stop. In that apartment I often woke to the sounds of screams. The cat would be sleeping soundly, so I knew it was something only I heard...or thought I heard. Since the house belonged to a goy and only goyim had lived in it, I placed a mezuzah inside the lintel archway between the living room and my bedroom. It was an ashkenazi scroll of unknown origin bought at Eichlers, put up with a bracha. The bed continued it inconsistent movement an unexpected times. I thought the were footsteps on the stairs when no one was coming up or going out. 19 years of this and I finally moved. For this similarly small apartment of two room I bought 2 Arizal mezuzot which were made to order and twice the price of non orgin known Ashkenazic-but who knew what I would find here and if the bed would continue its dance. Instead I find a neighbor. A man who is unmarried and came on my porch last night at 9pm. Our only prior exchange was hello after a wild rain and thunder storm had left broken branches all over the back yard where the cars park. I haven't seen him since and he appeared and was chatty, so I was patient. Since my tendency is to paranoia and distrust I hoped being in a new place that part of me would have been left in Brooklyn. He spent two hours talking about his life, his alcoholic father, his own battle with drinking, being sober, never marrying, living life to the fullest (these are his words) traveling to many countries, the 12 step program...two endless hours. he seemed to want to be friends. I told him I dont take easily to strangers and would trust him as far as I could throw him--and that it had nothing to do with him, that was my way. This evening, while recuperating from pnuemonia, short of patience, off pain meds becuase of surgery which is now postponed and trhying to find a new stable of doctors, I turned in early to read. Cats were fed, had some playtime and catnip to keep them busy. I'm wearing something barely there because I cant stand the feel of anything on me during the night, it wakes me, gets twisted as I toss ad turn. I'm reading, the AC is on, the cats have perched themselves in their corners and all is quiet. Banging on the door that is less than 6 ft from my bed. "Who is it?" I scream, cats jump down terrified at the banging, dont know what to do where to turn, "Its me, Scott, I wanted to give you something..." I dont know if he has peeked through the window, if he knows i'm in bed reading. I turn the light off, wrap the blanket around me and drag me into the bathroom to put on a housecoat. I open the door a crack and he apologize for scarying me, not for coming and banging on the door at 11:30 at night. He hands me a folded newpaper and says "I found this article today and thought you might be interested." Its a study looking for subjects who want to lose weight. I thanked him and closed the door. What I plan to do in the morning is to secure the view on every bedroom window because I think he can see from some windows. He told me last night he had waved and I never responded. He's lived here 5 years, it would not surprise me if there have been complaints from other tenants, because this is bizaare. I frighten too easily, maybe he was expeting me to say, Oh Hi, common in, lets have a chat in my bedroom at the stroke of mid night ? Me, with no cartilage, middle aged, bones like ashes, looking and feeling like a shrunken wine skin as written in tehillim, this jinn comes to bother me. I have nothing to offer him in any sense of the human condition. Being polite on a back porch in daylight does not mean you are welcome at midnight to bang on someone's door. I can't sleep and am going to make some tea or cocoa.

not so loony after all

I'm relieved and happy to say out loud that my insistence for 3 weeks to inept rhuematologist, who forgot to fax in my meds to mail order pharm and tried doing a lame diagnosis over the phone, left me so sick I finally crawled into a local urgent care facility and was diagnosed with severe bacterial pnuemonia, put on 10 days of antibiotic to be reviewed after another round of xrays determines all clear or not yet. So all the weepy, dark-is-closing-in feeling which I always get when SICK, not a rhuematoid flare, is still my signal of being otherwise ill. I tell you, anyone out there listening, the medical profession has a bias against overweight middle aged women-once they see you, and I'm not the biggest or the oldest, they stop listening or thinking. You're fat and whiney until proven otherwise. Its been hard enough to relocate and deal with new male *ssholes who think they're holy medical missionaries, but not to be taken seriously when I say i know I'm sick, its time to doctor shop. hip surgery is cancelled until further notice, not undergoing hip replacement with an epidural and no PCA if needed.

health & ex husband

Its odd enough being divorced for a quarter century and feel like a conversation with a former spouse can pick up like we spoke only yesterday. But each conversation seems to fizzle without details, followthrough and genuine support-andthis is what killed the marriage.' Although he was kind enough to send me to Bikur cholim since our kids find older folks being sick something icky and they dont want to be around, neither bikur cholim or the jewish family services could come up with anything other than offering a home aide for about $18 per hour, 4 hr minimum. I live in 2 rooms, with two skittish cats. Bringing in a stranger for 4 hours-I dont have enough linens to change the bed every day, the laundry rm in basement doesnt work, I handwash and dont expect a stranger to do that, in a nutshell, except under severe duress I do not want a stranger sitting here in my space for 4 hours a day with little to do except watch TV. While I pay for it. I have been so sick, finally gave in after waking from a late morning deep sleep and my rib cage was so tender somethin felt very wrong. Quietly packed insurance papers, keys called a taxi and went to ER where in 5 minutes the doctor diagnosed severe pnuemonia in left lung. Since i wrote the Rebbe twice askng for a brachs for the surgeon, the surgery and all five children of mine, I've been weaker, sicker and its so bad it reeks through my skin-I can smell my own interrnal sickness. The doctor gave me a list of area ortho surgeons and sugested a 2nd opnion at least. I'm on strong antibiotics for 10 days, followup xray 6-8 weeks from today an that means postponing surgery again (I think cancelling with current doctor) My eyes are crossing from exhaustion, I bid you adeui.

charity by any other name, remains charity

Pulling together the practical logistics for having major surgery has been overwhelming. I do not feel well, but it seems I was withdrawing from at least 2 medications that doctors here took off of pre op. Maybe it wasnt the best idea to call my ex and discuss what could be possible in terms of guidance in PA, he said try Bikur Cholim. A lovely older lady told me the Bikur Cholim is barely existing as the women who once visited and did things for congregants, dont anymore. She thought maybe I should call Gemilas Chesed because I mentioned post op I may need someone to come by daily just to check what needs doing or to bring simple groceries. Thank you, but no, its not gemilas chesed, I dont want tzedakah or a loan thank you. Her next suggestion was to contact Jewish Family and Children Services or Federation and get linked with a social worker. While it is 'brave of you to make this move alone' you need contacts and a community to help you get settled. Ah, nothing like moving near 4 healthy kids who live in walking distance and having to call on Jewish Federation to get sorted out by a social worker. Worked for 25 years, paid my bills my self AND child support AND taxes AND college loans and now its time to ask for a social worker? I dont think I have the stomach for it. Its pride, but you have to draw the line somewhere. I didnt ask for help in NY other than to get INTO a university to study, after that I was on my own. I explained the surgery pre op/post op schedule, asked for their help and no one responded. When I said I was hiring someone to take care of the cats, oldest son said, "Well if you're going to pay someone to do that I'll take the job." My ex and his 2nd wife did a great job or maybe they just take me for the same suckaah the nurses in one of the dr.s office here does by not giving the doctor my messages. Cwap, I left a message with Jewish Service social worker, dont see any other option at least have a discussion because my children are in absentia unless they need something and it time I wake up and smell the mendacity LMAO...I do, it stinks, time to grow up and take care of me since no one did, no one will. Except the Rebbe.

Comments

Anyone is entitled to post comments Anon, but why anyone would comment on a 2007 post stating "I don't agree" is having a very delayed reaction to my cat's death or posted his comment in the wrong place. Hmmm?

People are so strange

Was it always this way with the human race? I read Chumash, tehillim each day and the same complaints about human nature rushing to judgement,thinking like lemmings, mob rule. Some in the media can't let go of the Anthony trial. The woman came into court with lip gloss, hair done, looking like a doll, blinking and laughing with lawyers and judge said she will be released from prison next week, I dont remember the date, but within a week. Media are asking one another what will she do? where will she go? Who the phuck cares? There is a hadith about mohammed sitting among a group of believers talking and he saw approaching people who were coming to kill him. As they approached where he was, they didnt see him-he was sitting in plain sight, they couldnt see him. The hadith wanted to make a point that G-d can make one 'see' or 'blind' as the case may be, but everything that happens is from above. I'm sure there are many comparable Jewish tales, I wasnt schooled in them. But belief in hadith isnt necessary to accept the moral here, only a belief a G-d. This jury was blinded for a purpose G-d desired. If this woman is innocent, she is meant to be seen that way, if she is guilty a time will come that her guilt will be uncovered. I was listening to the radio this morning as watching television is utterly depressing, filled with miserable people, ungrateful for all they have, ruining their homes by hoarding, greed, hurting animals because of their own mental problems. Was the world always this way? In Tehillim the early prayers remind G-d to have mercy on the people He chose for Himself, to protect and guide and the writer speaks as if it was only yesterday, a generation or so ago that memories of being taken from Egypt, being freed and given the Law, of redemption and tschuvah...written with such a fresh voice, a living dialogue between Man and G-d. Then the tone changes as Asaph begins to write and he sounds grieved for the Jewish people, for how far they've strayed from the Law, grieving for G-d, asking for mercy and forgiveness...then the words sound far far away, as if the knowledge of how special it was in those first years, begins to dissipate, almost is forgotten, is barely a memory as the writer speaks of people seeking money, accusing others, gossiping. David ha Melech speaks of his bones shattered, feeling like a shriveled wineskin, hiding from enemies, wanting to be made invisible to them, protect me he asks G-d, from those who want me for nothing but favors or those who want only to do evil to me and do not know me. Perhaps my error is mixing everything in one stew pot. Jews think and live differently from non Jews. But as things stand in this generation, I cannot say if the difference is better or not. Knowing how the Rebbe wants so strongly for good and positive works to reveal and bring about Moshiach, for this era to be ushered in, you contrast this with the pervading evil and I am overwhelmed some days with inexplicable grief. So quickly to say, because I want to leave this subject of this woman whose guilt or innocense will remain a mystery to the rest of humankind, the sooner its all finished and we are where we are meant to be, the better.

verdict less

So a jury of her peers decided that Anthony could not be tied to the murder of her daughter and hit all three counts of first degree, felony manslaughter, manslaughter by child neglet outta the old courtroom but wagged their collective socks in surrender to her recorded lies to police. It is expected that Ms Anthony will be out, about and eating BBQue by Thursday due to time already served-the lying to cops charges get her 1 yr each but no one is holding their breath she will sit in jail for 4 yrs. I listened as stunned as anyone else, the poor prosecutors shaking their heads, people yelling 'its another OJ' and standing outside the glass window of the bar where the defense was swizzling champagne in celebration. I can't be the only one wondering what the celebration was for. There's an unsolved murder, false charges of sexual abuse against Anthony my her father, a mother blantantly committed perjury and the judge was hot and bothered because the prosecution lawyers were laughing at the defense. My theory is as follows...lets set aside the theory that Americans in general are an under par educated group of homo sapiens and look at the characters comprising the proseutors team. A brilliant Jeff Ashton who repeatedly made hash out of Baez, a defense lawyer in the best imitation of Colombo (minus the brains)Ashton appeared aloof, uber experienced, a man who spoke AT the jury while trying hard to be passionate about the truth he was explaining on forensics, murder is not a cover up for drowning and the list is long as the day was a lie this day. Ashton was not a jury peer. Ms.Linda whatever her name was, blond, cool an unflinching, was not a jury peer. When they sat smirking at poor shmuck Baez trying to sound lawyerly, they cleansed themselves of any jury sympathy. The jury, it appears by description, were mainly blue collar or at best lower middle class who felt for poor Baez being snickered at by the big city lawyers. Baez took this first captial murder case pro bono so in these lean financial times those jurors to that into consideration. I do not believe these folks ever considered evidence, after a brief afternoon they returned dressed up this morning to declare the innocense of Ms Anthony and then ran lickety split to return home, refu sing to speak with media-maybe they had already been offered exclusive interviews paying big bucks. Hearing that this typical young woman who reflects American youth at its most degraded and decadent, was not to blame for her daughters death was both numbing and after numbness passed and nausea set in, an odd feeling of filth seemed to settle in the apt. Looking around for the cause of the stench, I checked the litter box which was in its usual pristine raked condition, the garbage had gone out and then returning to the living room I saw teh defense lawyers hugging, grabbing one another and Anthony. TEnnesee Williams wrote a line in Cat On a Hot Tin Roof..."I smell something" the old dying father tells Paul Newman, his football star and badly injured son named Brick who cant accept his life is forever altered by his injury, he cant/wont do anything not even screw his purring wife, Elixabeth Taylor the "cat on the hot tin roof" he's so filled with the stench that stinks up the entire mansion...or the hovering Mamie who is the number one enabler of drinking, lying and not airing family laundry and the other son, the working son who has no neck kids that run screaming all over the house and a pregnant wife...a perfect family ready to inherit Granpaws wealth...and Granpaw cn smell it, the stench of the lies- In one of the defining male roles in early 20th century Burl Ives looks at what a family empire he created, how his Esau and Yakov stand before him, their lives divided by character difference and entwined by greed d as his family gathers in expectation of his imminent death, hovering and fussing, he says to his beloved son the injured footballer There ain't nothin' more powerful than the odor of mendacity...You can smell it. It smells like death. Cat On A Hot in Roof Tennessee Williams The jury served up a set of verdicts sending off the unmistakeable odor of mendacity on this day July 5, 2011.

PA doctors

I have to write this down because if not, I'm afraid of what I may do. Moved here May 4. Saw Primary care doctor May 6 for initial visit. Covered everything and I asked for a letter so that I could obtain transport instead of having to use public transportation. This transport is called ACCESS. The vans, trucks ride all around the city and every time I see one, they are freakin empty, just like in NY. I wait 3 weeks and call doctors office, leave a message-where is the letter? 2 days letter a piece of incoherent bullshit arrives that says nothing of the draft he asked me to write for him-he has no time to devote to writing letters. I sat in the waiting room after a 2 hour appt and wrote a letter for him. Where that letter went I donno, but it wasnt what he used. No diagnosis, no prognosis, just a mention of comordity limiting my ability to be mobile and he is asking that I please be given ACCESS priviledges-the tone of his letter was as if the ACCESS staff would know who he is and just seeeing his name would be grounds to give me ACCESS. The forms were returned within days, the letter rejected. I called the office again and was put to speak with a woman with an Islamic name, but she's African American, a convert most likely. This was June 25. She said, draft a letter that you want me to type and I'll take care of it. I typed her a letter with diagnosis, prognosis, tying together how they prohibit me from using public transport. Today is July 5 and she calls and says she never received the letter. She only called because I used the hospital intranet system to send the office an email asking why 2 letters drafted leave me with nothing and whether they simply do not want to do this? She asks me to resend the letter. Perhaps she thought I didnt have a copy? I forward it, same email address, she got it in less than a minute so it didnt go to spam. And then the punchline..."I'm going to type this up and have him sign it. I will leave it on his desk, he's on vacation for the next 2 weeks." He returns from vacation week of July 18. I have an appointment to see him for pre op surgery exam on July 19. Surgery is scheduled for August 11. So I will not mail this letter until speaking with ACCESS Director and requesting an urgent appointment to be examined by their doctor and to bring in all the paperwork, because this will be impossible post sugery and post surgery is when I will need an ambulette that can lift me into the vehicle, take me to doctor appointments, bring me to and from shopping etc. But calling ACCESS now I am told every appointment for August is filled. And that I should wait until AFTER surgery to apply because my limitations will be more severe and that helps for the application. So I will have to continue paying out of pocket for car service and ambulette service because a doctor couldnt be bothered writing a letter that responded to what this agency asked-and this, even after I was the one to write a letter for him, and then his secretary. Its the Rebbe's yahrzeit, I really want to hold my tongue and keep the razor in the bathroom. But I'm left wondering if my name was Shaqwinda Washington if the service might have been more responsive.

Thinking about...

Pissed off that a woman I knew from CH, an unemployed painter who had a child out of wedlock, just published her first book. Me, I'm filled with excuses...years ago I couldnt write 'a book' because my kids were young and still involved with chabad...then I was working 10 hr days with 4 hrs commute, then had my mother come to spend her last days, then remarried/divorced, now I'm sick with alot of time and I've come to the conclusion that somewhere deep inside I'm so afraid to put myself out there and possibly garner some attention when my entire life has been living like a shadow, twilight, hidden...in exile. So its all bullshit because plenty of wonderful writers are hermits, so that excuse is also off the table. I think there's enough written to put together a first draft, but for me genre or format is another wall in front of me. Writing here is easy because its like when I would get on stage in high school, look out on a dark filled auditorium it was magic, as if nothing existed except my words, whatever I created in that moment. I wasn't acting, we were protesting in the late '60s and I was a chief rabble rouser. So the feeling of power with anonymity is a heady cocktail...guess I'm not the only one, but the irony is that most of the popular blogs seems to be composites of other people's material and hard work, particularly the cooking blogs. Keep having flare ups of psoriatic arthritis (yep there it is, out for public consumption) where the few patches become so inflamed, swollen and cracked, the fatigue is so severe I cannot always remain awake, even sitting up its as if someone hit me over the head with a bat and said 'sleep...you are getting sleepy, your eyes are feeling heavy" and then I drop something like the hot tea, the book I'm trying to read and wake up. But its extremely humid here, even the cats are sluggish. They dont need much excuse to lie around and sleep or stare at me. This computer is on its last few moments I think...the sound is gone and I need something really secure and new. This decade old hand me down was a blessing 7 years ago, its amazing it lasted so long. I'm afriad if I wait too long,any files will be lost. Wanted to go to the market...deep dish apple pie on sale, can't mooooooove. Half a raw chicken has been sitting waiting attention in the fridge for 5 days, I see it every morning and grab something requiring no work. Pouring cereal into a bowl is exhausting. Then something seems urgent...I had to sweep the back porch. Got tired of the old leaves, broken twigs, the tree limbs at the bottom of the steps that no one clears away. Just plain damn sick of the mess, got the brush broom and swept the porch, steps, pushed the branches into a corner and everything is now nice is clear. Poured a bucket of water all over porch and almost went flying, cant hold that much weight and go down a step-I am due for hip replacement surgery but that crucial medical point somehow doesnt impact my daily duties like pushing furniture with the other hip or my back-that's the best invention I came up with, put your back against something huge, like a dresser and slooowly push it across the room, angle it into position, push it into whereever it has to sit. I dont lift or pull, just push everything around lolol. Scared myself this afternoon with the water bucket because that fall would have been very bad. Found a new cat tree company that makes amazing cat condos that are actually affordable and not the usual stupidly made contraptions. Cats like height. Both my cats have taken over the tops of the only 2 pieces of furniture in the bedroom. One hangs out on the dresser, the other took the fabric wardrobe I got to store linens. This company has a cat condo with has two cat cubbies and its about 53" high so its high enough and has a hiding place for each one. I dont want to hear any bitching once this is put together for them. I got it before I leave for the hospital so they each can hide somewhere other than under the rug which is a terrible remedy for their being afraid when someone steps into the apt-even my kids. so The Trail is over and the jury has been deliberating since 12pm 7.4.11. All the talking heads are making predictions. One IT guy, at least 2 nurses, 3 mothers, 7 women, 5 men. This trial was a national sensation for 3 yrs, they will want to 'get it right' not just get it over with, although we're hearing a jurist has vacation plans for 7.6.11 I would lean toward the end of the week, later rather than sooner for a verdict, but I tend to get few things right involving how other people think... Really worried about the post op issues of pain from surgery-seems like I've been dealing with pain for so many years, working around it, ignoring it until it became the sole issue in my life that everything else literally stopped-work, living in NY, being able to get around. On that optimistic note I should go see if that chicken is still fit to eat