She's in bed at 9:00 this morning, and I'm happy if she's happy. Java got me up and I've eaten and pilled and earlier was proud of deciding not to play golf today, even before I knew it was raining this morning. I'd actually thought I might get out and do a few things more in the garden, firewood, etc. But not with it raining. I'll stay in and serve my queen when she's up and desirous.
Speaking of gardening. Oh, let's cover the pills first. I've settled into a regimen of 37.5 mg. of Venlafaxine each morning and evening. Last night I couldn't find the 75 mg. bottle, and was looking for it thinking I could use a boost. Yesterday was smooth at work, but I didn't sleep well the night before and was tired and questioning whether or not I needed a bit more of the Venlafaxine. I found it this morning, but took the 37.5 both last night and this morning, feeling much better with a good sleep. Glenn was here and left early this morning, not waking me before he left as Betty said I was snoring. I see that as a good sign that I was sleeping well. I'm still getting up a few times a night to pee, but I don't think it's a prostrate problem, as I had the PSA test months ago when the same nightly condition existed. I just want to drink in the evening, both wine and water, and the result is my bladder fills and refills. I don't have any trouble peeing, and each time it's a good volume. No prostrate problem.
And the garden. With the great weather we've been having, I decided to start the seed germination process a couple of weeks ago. Yesterday, upon examining for the first time to see, I had three seeds that were sending out little sprouts. What I hope will be the beginning of my next harvest. I prepped the garden and planted them. It rained last night. Is that great timing, or what? I see it as a very good sign.
And that's another part of what makes me a lucky man.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Saturday, January 15, 2011
I'm a sick man
Crazy, in fact. Depression is a sickness, right? It's not unusual for me to be down this time of year, but it's worse this year. I'd been proudly smoking my cannabis and managing just fine without any of the prescribed anti-depressants for several months, but with the winter weather, the cough/cold and poison oak outbreak, I have become more depressed and begun using the little pills again, upping yesterday's dosage to a second 37.5 mg of Effexor(venlafaxine). I even contemplated going to the 75 mg. this morning, but now have decided that another 37.5 will do me fine. I took a smaller toke also, theorizing that the less I abuse the sore spot in my throat, the less I'll cough. It may work, as I'm much better this morning than last night, which included the two basketball games and pretty continuous use of my voice for a few hours. What a fun way to spend some time. Golf this morning, so up early, getting ready to head over to Ed's house where he'll drive us down to Laguna Seca to play with the workers who can't play during the week (it's Saturday 1/15).
MRI scheduled 2/23 contributes to the depression, no question. It happens every year. I just don't like winters and don't care if I never see Bear Valley again, at this point anyway. It's likely I'll see it again, just not snowboard, but who knows?
I started this blog last night, feeling really lousy, and I took that second pill, so now I feel better. I keep rationalizing to myself that I must be depressed, as lousy as I've been feeling lately. Much as I dislike the idea of putting the manufactured chemicals into my body, I can also accept that chemistry is a remarkable science, one of man's greatest accomplishments, but at what cost?
Crazy though? I am continuously reminded of the behavioral changes that have taken place since my surgery. Also of the Allman Brother's song that includes the lyrics, "good lord I feel like I'm dying". Now the third reminder that I best telling myself on a regular basis, "quit feeling sorry for yourself and get your lazy ass out of bed. Go out there and live, or lay around and die".I've never had any desire to maintain a diary like this, and I know that blogs aren't intended for that purpose, but unless I gain world fame from this banal banter, I'm pretty much hoping that no one ever reads it. That's crazy, right?
MRI scheduled 2/23 contributes to the depression, no question. It happens every year. I just don't like winters and don't care if I never see Bear Valley again, at this point anyway. It's likely I'll see it again, just not snowboard, but who knows?
I started this blog last night, feeling really lousy, and I took that second pill, so now I feel better. I keep rationalizing to myself that I must be depressed, as lousy as I've been feeling lately. Much as I dislike the idea of putting the manufactured chemicals into my body, I can also accept that chemistry is a remarkable science, one of man's greatest accomplishments, but at what cost?
Crazy though? I am continuously reminded of the behavioral changes that have taken place since my surgery. Also of the Allman Brother's song that includes the lyrics, "good lord I feel like I'm dying". Now the third reminder that I best telling myself on a regular basis, "quit feeling sorry for yourself and get your lazy ass out of bed. Go out there and live, or lay around and die".I've never had any desire to maintain a diary like this, and I know that blogs aren't intended for that purpose, but unless I gain world fame from this banal banter, I'm pretty much hoping that no one ever reads it. That's crazy, right?
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Guns, and rambling
This one could be short. Well medicated, of course. Several random things on my mind, the killing in AZ, my childhood, not been feeling well myself lately, just the cough/cold combined with poison oak at its worst. Getting over it, but didn't have the energy to play golf today.
About the guns. Dad was a farm boy and loved to hunt, teaching his three sons the joy of a family outing. Yes, we were murdering birds, most wantonly. Mostly memories of dove shooting, but we also chased down quail, duck, pheasant, chukar, pigeon, and lots of great times.
I believe gun ownership is the root of our problem. I'm speaking of a lunatic who never found himself and linked onto negative politics. Six people's lives ended. I have been close enough to death that I know I want to do everything possible to avoid it. Living every day while I'm still alive is pretty high on the priority list, too. To me that means getting off my duff and doing something. Not much, but something. I like it easy.
So if we want to take guns away from people, we'd have some mini revolutions. Is there no solution? The guy was apparently slightly deranged, at least strange, yet a welcome customer at the gun shop.
I got sucked into the media commentary and tired quickly of it. I'd like to know if within the number of times a gun is discharged privately whether an innocent or predatory is injured. The risk of gun ownership seems to outweigh any possible benefit. Thankfully, I've never been invaded. Not having much is probably as much a reason as that we take steps to promote a safe environment.
The idea that our 2nd amendment provides us the right to band together in the event our government somehow has gone in a direction separate from the people is the root of the excuse, right? Well, that's not the case, except for the wackos who feel a special security owning a gun. The problem is that too many choose gun ownership beginning with the excuse that they want protection, but wind up feeling more powerful, which can lead to a new set of issues.
I'm going to go off here a bit. Being the biggest guy in most every venue I'm ever in is a powerful feeling. I'm relaxed about it and trust that I convey a relaxed mood, but I'm sensitive to not using my size or physical power to any benefit of position. I am equating gun ownership to a small man complex. As I've enjoyed repeating over the years, I talked my way out of a few fights back in the day.
Wow, long time ago memory. John Costar got sucker punched by a Poly kid after a high school bball game. He and Mike Binning and I were walking out of LBCC gym and about a dozen black kids were following closely and taunting us. They were probably hoping we'd run, but I wasn't very fast, just big. A guy pops John from behind and John bolts. I make a half move at that guy and he's quickly out of the way. They backed up a bit, I guess to see how I was going to react. Mike and I turned back to our destination, my van. One kid kicked me weakly in the ass. I turned back and they pretty much spread out and away. Mike and I got back to my van and I remember my leg jumping, I was so nervous.
Another time in Cotati, at the biker type bar that didn't have many bikers, but pool tables and beer and was a short walk to my home. One of the bikers was a fat drunk, and his younger brother was a slightly bigger drunk wannabe thug. The stupid lady I was with, Adella, was taunting him a bit more than he could take, and when he broke the pool stick and pointed his blunted end at me, I don't remember the threat but he clearly wanted to fight and I convinced him he'd best not try me, probably something about where I might put that stick for him.
That's what I mean about being in a power position but not wielding that power. I would be a benevolent dictator. Gun owners would be more like Hitler. I guess that may be an extreme, but this green tea Betty's pushing at me is good to the last drop. She thinks it should be my new medication.
Can you imagine a band of citizens attempting to take back the government? Organizing gun clubs are where such mini revolutions will be rooted. If that's the reason for gun ownership, according to our constitutionalists, are we out of our collective minds? I'd say it's a more honorable reason for a man that believes he needs his gun to protect his personal property. But I thought it was all about the 2nd amendment, which I don't believe addresses such protection. I need to do some research now, don't I?
Having my brother John once call me a compelling writer is an honor.....and I like to type. hahaha
I'm going to throw this in now, maybe an hour after I started this blog. Oh yeah, not feeling well, and thinking more about death. There, I said it. Betty knows what "There, I said it" is about. Thinking about death is a lot easier that writing about thinking about it. Writing about death isn't possible, except for fiction. Wow am I rambling now. Wow is that word that I use frequently after having ingested some of my medicine. OK, get this covered, I haven't been feeling well, bad enough to dwell on the end a little bit. I try to shake it off, but don't know whether I'm better off this way or trying more of the anti-depressant. This way is cleaner for my brain, and I'm always a bit down in the winter, so I'm going to ride out the cough/cold, bad weather, poison oak, pending MRI, and look forward to a beautiful spring. If I don't have some positive energy for golf tomorrow, weather pending, I'm going to have another Effexor, but just the 37.5 mg. That should help me want to go play golf. Loose as noodle arms and swing the shoulders. I'm really hitting the ball better and that seems to be based primarily on the tweaks that I put into my swing while I'm hitting tennis balls to Java. I came in a bit earlier than I would have liked but didn't want to stay out in the rain. I've been telling Glenn and Michelle forever that loose arms are part of how you hit the ball, but I took loose to the extreme today and liked the result hitting tennis balls. I'm now only optimistic about applying it to the golf ball, but am at least optimistic I'll remember this tomorrow and give it a chance to work. Loose as WET noodles arms, all shoulders for club head speed and power. The looseness of the arms is the same for the hands, applying minimum pressure sufficient to hold the club. Lead arm straight, shoulder turn. ABC. Alignment, Balance, Control, formerly Confidence and Contact. I love the game, hitting the ball with varying degrees of effort so as to direct this little sphere to a specific destination. Changing C to Control might yield some benefit, I hope of course. Confidence is real important, as is Contact. Blending them all in an effort to make it simple is a real chore, but should be the ultimate goal. Doing it more makes it easier, ergo, I'll continue playing all the effing golf I can. Woohoo. Guess this wasn't a short one.
About the guns. Dad was a farm boy and loved to hunt, teaching his three sons the joy of a family outing. Yes, we were murdering birds, most wantonly. Mostly memories of dove shooting, but we also chased down quail, duck, pheasant, chukar, pigeon, and lots of great times.
I believe gun ownership is the root of our problem. I'm speaking of a lunatic who never found himself and linked onto negative politics. Six people's lives ended. I have been close enough to death that I know I want to do everything possible to avoid it. Living every day while I'm still alive is pretty high on the priority list, too. To me that means getting off my duff and doing something. Not much, but something. I like it easy.
So if we want to take guns away from people, we'd have some mini revolutions. Is there no solution? The guy was apparently slightly deranged, at least strange, yet a welcome customer at the gun shop.
I got sucked into the media commentary and tired quickly of it. I'd like to know if within the number of times a gun is discharged privately whether an innocent or predatory is injured. The risk of gun ownership seems to outweigh any possible benefit. Thankfully, I've never been invaded. Not having much is probably as much a reason as that we take steps to promote a safe environment.
The idea that our 2nd amendment provides us the right to band together in the event our government somehow has gone in a direction separate from the people is the root of the excuse, right? Well, that's not the case, except for the wackos who feel a special security owning a gun. The problem is that too many choose gun ownership beginning with the excuse that they want protection, but wind up feeling more powerful, which can lead to a new set of issues.
I'm going to go off here a bit. Being the biggest guy in most every venue I'm ever in is a powerful feeling. I'm relaxed about it and trust that I convey a relaxed mood, but I'm sensitive to not using my size or physical power to any benefit of position. I am equating gun ownership to a small man complex. As I've enjoyed repeating over the years, I talked my way out of a few fights back in the day.
Wow, long time ago memory. John Costar got sucker punched by a Poly kid after a high school bball game. He and Mike Binning and I were walking out of LBCC gym and about a dozen black kids were following closely and taunting us. They were probably hoping we'd run, but I wasn't very fast, just big. A guy pops John from behind and John bolts. I make a half move at that guy and he's quickly out of the way. They backed up a bit, I guess to see how I was going to react. Mike and I turned back to our destination, my van. One kid kicked me weakly in the ass. I turned back and they pretty much spread out and away. Mike and I got back to my van and I remember my leg jumping, I was so nervous.
Another time in Cotati, at the biker type bar that didn't have many bikers, but pool tables and beer and was a short walk to my home. One of the bikers was a fat drunk, and his younger brother was a slightly bigger drunk wannabe thug. The stupid lady I was with, Adella, was taunting him a bit more than he could take, and when he broke the pool stick and pointed his blunted end at me, I don't remember the threat but he clearly wanted to fight and I convinced him he'd best not try me, probably something about where I might put that stick for him.
That's what I mean about being in a power position but not wielding that power. I would be a benevolent dictator. Gun owners would be more like Hitler. I guess that may be an extreme, but this green tea Betty's pushing at me is good to the last drop. She thinks it should be my new medication.
Can you imagine a band of citizens attempting to take back the government? Organizing gun clubs are where such mini revolutions will be rooted. If that's the reason for gun ownership, according to our constitutionalists, are we out of our collective minds? I'd say it's a more honorable reason for a man that believes he needs his gun to protect his personal property. But I thought it was all about the 2nd amendment, which I don't believe addresses such protection. I need to do some research now, don't I?
Having my brother John once call me a compelling writer is an honor.....and I like to type. hahaha
I'm going to throw this in now, maybe an hour after I started this blog. Oh yeah, not feeling well, and thinking more about death. There, I said it. Betty knows what "There, I said it" is about. Thinking about death is a lot easier that writing about thinking about it. Writing about death isn't possible, except for fiction. Wow am I rambling now. Wow is that word that I use frequently after having ingested some of my medicine. OK, get this covered, I haven't been feeling well, bad enough to dwell on the end a little bit. I try to shake it off, but don't know whether I'm better off this way or trying more of the anti-depressant. This way is cleaner for my brain, and I'm always a bit down in the winter, so I'm going to ride out the cough/cold, bad weather, poison oak, pending MRI, and look forward to a beautiful spring. If I don't have some positive energy for golf tomorrow, weather pending, I'm going to have another Effexor, but just the 37.5 mg. That should help me want to go play golf. Loose as noodle arms and swing the shoulders. I'm really hitting the ball better and that seems to be based primarily on the tweaks that I put into my swing while I'm hitting tennis balls to Java. I came in a bit earlier than I would have liked but didn't want to stay out in the rain. I've been telling Glenn and Michelle forever that loose arms are part of how you hit the ball, but I took loose to the extreme today and liked the result hitting tennis balls. I'm now only optimistic about applying it to the golf ball, but am at least optimistic I'll remember this tomorrow and give it a chance to work. Loose as WET noodles arms, all shoulders for club head speed and power. The looseness of the arms is the same for the hands, applying minimum pressure sufficient to hold the club. Lead arm straight, shoulder turn. ABC. Alignment, Balance, Control, formerly Confidence and Contact. I love the game, hitting the ball with varying degrees of effort so as to direct this little sphere to a specific destination. Changing C to Control might yield some benefit, I hope of course. Confidence is real important, as is Contact. Blending them all in an effort to make it simple is a real chore, but should be the ultimate goal. Doing it more makes it easier, ergo, I'll continue playing all the effing golf I can. Woohoo. Guess this wasn't a short one.
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