A bit of flow

All in all, a successful day, by rational markers…

  • Two huge problems taken care of at long distance (the combination of phone and internet is a wonderful thing). 
  •  J has a brother with him now, a good-hearted dude who totally has his back. Just the kind of person I want him to be seen with around town! 
  • I saw properties in, and did a reasonable checkout of, the nearest town covered by Craig’s List and within any version of my budget. 

It didn’t result in housing, but it did result in info and a certain amount of clarity…

Benefits: more than one color among its inhabitants, both middle-class and poor people, all the usual stores, houses reasonably recent and reasonably well-constructed (by California standards.)

Drawbacks: the classes are strictly segregated, and the gates and walls shut the poorer people IN. That’s just a bad sign… All the stores are big box; I think I saw one non-chain store in my whole tour. A town with shallow roots.

Fun bit: A scam claiming that a house worth $1400/mo is posted on craigslist as being rented at $550/mo; my email query got a fulsome reply from a “pediatrician” (who can’t even spell the word) who just moved to Florida, and might possibly go to Texas next, don’t worry, just fill out all this personal, identifying info and send the money and he’ll FedEx the key…

And if you believe that….

I  checked out the house, called the number on the sign, had a lovely chat with the receptionist for the real-life management company, and forwarded the email after informing her that a thoroughgoing scam like that really is a police matter. (It was at least the third call.)

Unfortunately, the bogus price was the only one I could really afford…

Given the way my credit got trashed by my descent into destitution a few years ago, and the problem with sublets (and therefore getting a roommate), I think this will take a lot of footwork.

I’ve always, always paid my rent. My bills go,

  1. Rent
  2. Warmth
  3. Phone
  4. Food
  5. Everything else

But try proving that, in an economy that means houses and harbors get bought and sold every time you turn around, and housing managers and harbormasters get moved and downsized even more often than retail clerks.

Which brings us to the next thing. I spoke of being out of the flow, nothing feeling right. Well, that seems to be shifting — all things being subject to change without notice, and not assuming I’m right or anything. But there is a blossoming of hope and possibility, and whatever brings it, I am truly grateful.

I have the thundering inward message to spend at least the next 18 hours on self-care. No running around until I have done so. No house-hunting until further notice.

This is painfully hard because I’m spending a lot per night (for me) and I want every day to be worth what I spend on it. That’s a bogus, above-the-neck, able-ist thing to say, though. I have to damn well take care of myself. Otherwise there is no worth, no day, no useful activity.

I got enough food for a couple days, detergent for dishes and laundry, and need nothing more that I can’t get within a short walk in this reasonable neighborhood from my safe, upper-story room.

Time to take care. There are far worse things!

with a tip of the hat to Zorba the Greek 😉
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A day, still in life

Today was good: sent a care package to J, did some research, and plotted out a town to look at homes in. Tomorrow is a big day: lots of househunting.

Still struggling with the feeling of being off the rails completely but there is so much to do that it almost seems irrelevant. Two completely different dramas are unfolding which aren’t mine to discuss, but this blog post is going to be a lot shorter than I’d intended so I can get back on the phone.

Meanwhile, I’m hoping for a lack of interference in the hunt for a safe home. That’s all I ask….

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An upside down day

Today was a day when everything seemed to turn at least one somersault, including my mind. In fact, I just took off the headset and turned one myself, to complete the set.

Extreme stress makes me a little whimsical…

Food & housing

I woke up this morning in a motel that was as creepy as it was the night before, when the desk clerk had looked up and down at sweet, white, worried me, and said in her most reassuring tones, “I’ll give you the room on the second floor, on the corner, right where I can see you.”

On the one hand, I was glad there was someone to look out for me. On the other, it was horrifying that it was so baldly necessary. A bit like my relationship lately.

Today was the last day of intestinal meltdown before heading into real wasting syndrome: relentless nausea, episodes of dizziness, and nearly volcanic indigestion. The next step is relentless diarrhea. I’ve had wasting syndrome once this year already, and that was enough.

The automatic drive is about to go in reverse…

Time to put more money into staving off physical self-destruction: I called a good hotel with monthly rates, and made a 30 day reservation.

The indigestion is considerably better, and at least I can eat past the nausea. Success! I WILL save this system!

I finally had a good, real conversation with boyfriend J this evening. For all our mutual problems, there’s a lot of love there. This separation is agony for both of us.

I finally got to say what I have been tripping over all day: nothing feels right. I usually have a strong sense of flow, of what should happen next and how to get there. But it’s as if I got washed up on the riverbank weeks ago, and however hard I try, I can’t catch up with the current. I’m more lost than I have ever been.

Being away from my sweetie, and pouring so much money I really need elsewhere into the painful boondoggle of a separate life, is lonely and brutal.
So I have some thinking to do…

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Think zebra

This title has two meanings:

  • Medical students are often told, “When you hear hooves, think horse, not zebra.” This means that a set of symptoms is probably due to a common cause, not an uncommon one. Zebras are rare.
  • There was a popular book about chronic stress and fear that pointed out that, when prey animals like antelope or zebras are attacked, they get really upset; as soon as the attack is over and the predator is gone, they chill right out again. It suggested reacting like the zebra; respond fast, then relax when the threat is gone.
Zebra face
I have a rare disease — a real zebra.

One of its many effects is to hair-trigger my fear, because of the disruption of the autonomic nervous system that regulates the fight-or-flight response and everything that comes with it.

My bf and I are dealing with a crazy ex. It’s an unpleasant experience for anyone, but truly trippy for a former ER nurse (talk about comfortable under stress) who now has a CNS hotwired for the fight-or-flight response. I keep blinking to check whose life this is, anyway.

In between the bouts of crisis management, I’m doing my very best to “think zebra”, do a logical assessment, and chill right out again. One must function, after all.

The daffiness of CRPS-brain (especially one that has been overtaxed with a long trip and multiple moves) means that things I need to do occur to me bit by bit, not in a tidy list. However, I do make lists, and have the backup of good friends with relevant experience: I follow their advice promptly and to the letter.

All that’s left to do is keep on with my mental disciplines: meditation, contemplation, qi gong, and prayer. Studies show it works, though they’re vague as to why. Doesn’t matter what format or religion you meditate or pray in, as long as it’s sincere.

Makes perfect sense in quantum physics — but medicine is stuck in the 1600’s, with the radiant Sir Isaac and classical physics. Maybe it’ll catch up one day.

Meanwhile, here’s a zebra. Time to meditate and pray, then stop and chew grass.

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Whiplash…but the good kind

We now have a cute li’l trailer, sufficient to our simple needs:

 

I lived on a sailboat for years, and J is a camper from way back, so we think it’s about right. I can hear some of you gasping and a few saying, in slightly strained tones, “Well, if you’re sure…”

It’ll do for now.

We paid too much for its years, but about enough for its general condition. It’s clean and tight and, with a few electrical personality issues not surprising in something 30 years old, is in very good shape inside. That is, the cushions, cupboards, furnace and water-heater are excellent!

The trick is finding a place to put it.

We look weird on housing apps.

This is new territory for us.

My nursing and writing/software resumes were irresistible, or so I assume, since I hardly had to look for jobs; they’d just as often come looking for me. J’s carpentry work is second to none, as his rate of re-hire attests. Too bad so much of it was in Mendo, where people change their phones like normal people change their underwear.

Work aside, I’m highly mobile (always have been, except when disease really slaps me down) and J is moving out of a region of the country which, in my view, is a total pit. Among other things, anybody who looks Native American (as J does) looks like a punching bag to the local thugs, uniformed and otherwise.

And, since we’re both now a little daffy, it’s not like we have the routines nailed down. As J says, “We put our two screwy brains together, and we’ve got one pretty good one.”

Still, I’ve always paid my rent on time, even in the worst of times; and J has survived 62 years as a neatly made, brown, feisty dude of less than average height. Persistence is key, in housing as in chronic disease. He is certain something will come soon. Meanwhile, we keep doing the rounds.

***

No sooner had I entered and saved the above then, on J’s advice, I called the manager of the mobile home park we wanted to buy a home in, just to ask if he might have anything…

He had one RV spot left.

It’s huge, has already been dug over and gardened in, backs onto a creek, has good neighbors and a manager who likes us, and it’s in budget (just). He took to us so much, he’s trusting us to move in Wednesday and do paperwork when I’m back the following Monday.

On our previous visit, I gave him a jug of real old-fashioned maple syrup from his old home and mine in rural New England. That might have made us more memorable.

Img from this intriguing article: http://www.ishs.org/news/?p=1588

My well-honed reflex is to wait for the other shoe to come flying out of the dark and whack me upside the head.

My determination is to be profoundly grateful, a good citizen, and maybe re-learn how to relax…

Meanwhile, I’m  off to see my new doctor in LA

I’m leaving tomorrow on a 2-day trek down. I’ll stop for a visit with relatives, giving J free rein on getting us plugged in, set up and organized. He’s going to enjoy that!

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The Car Quest: the Grail is ours

My sweetie is between homes (long story) and, thanks to a few runarounds from shops that should know better,  between cars. That’s one reason he was free to come out and  help me drive across. We had a wonderful time and got our communication styles well in train, so it was a useful trip in many ways. But, on our return to Central California, it was time to face the more humdrum realities.

The first item on JC’s agenda was sorting out transport. First we had to decide whether it was sending good money after bad to continue trying to resurrect his old one (and here, as an honest reporter, I have to put in a very good word for Thurston Toyota‘s Service Dept, managed by Rod, who pulled strings and called in favors and pulled off some minor miracles to help us out).

In the end, he had to pull the plug on his faithful steed. He decided to go straight for his dream car: a VW Passat wagon, V6 with heated seats and leather interior, mileage under 100k, ~10 years old or less … for around $4k.

You realize that doesn’t exist, right?

After a particularly slimy salesman, many hours of driving, and sniffing out a lot of dead ends …

Incidentally, if you find yourself in Stockton and you’re hungry, consider hitting the Creamery at 5756 Pacific Ave #3. There was some confusion about my order, and it didn’t help that I had mentioned gluten allergy but not made a loud, firm pronouncement. The waitress was absolutely angelic, sweetly insisting on taking everything back and bringing something that I could eat, and would want to; and the kitchen turned my revised order around in record time. I expected a Chili’s type of meal — decent but unremarkable — but it was better than the price led me to expect. If I’m ever stuck in Stockton again, I’ll remember it.

Where was I? Oh right, used car salesmen and dead ends…

I called a number in a town I’d never heard of and found myself talking to a sweet young man who was describing JC’s dream car — and wishing he could make it better.

For real.

And then he knocked 15% off the asking price just because he was sooo glad to talk to a nice person after a busy morning of Craigslist trolls.

So 6 hours away from home (but 3 from where we were in Sacramento), we found his dream car, with a lovely young family of the warm and hard-working kind that you can’t help but be glad to give your money to.

We made it back to Clear Lake with breaks at the loveliest places JC has sussed out over the years. He gently scolds me for being too trusting and keeps an eye on the sketchier characters at the gas stations and — I just noticed this — slides up to me when he thinks they’re looking too hard. I’ve never been with someone so protective and mindful. 

JC says it takes the two of our screwy brains to make one, and then we come out pretty good.

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Arizona plus one

After a delicious dish of huevos rancheros at Virgie’s, we made it from Gallup, NM to Laughlin, NV in one day, even with a couple of memorable stops…

At the petrified forest in the Painted Desert:

Where JC exchanged formalities with a handsome raven (video coming soon)…

At the Indian Art Center in Winslow, Arizona:

And a brief off-road trip into the woods.

The western third of the state was wonderfully hilly, and at the end of the day, we both had a lot more energy. There’s something to be said for being on terrain that you’re used to.

Blogger ate the prior draft of this entry, which is too bad, but I’m not up to reconstructing it. I’m overdue for my Epsom bath… Here in Laughlin, NV, over one state away from where we woke up this morning:

View Larger Map

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New Mexico’s beautiful names

Cimarron, Eagle Nest, Angel Fire, Taos, Chimayo, Santa Fe, Bernalillo, and the mouth-tickling Albuquerque… BEST names of any state yet.

JC checked all the vehicle fluids at the start of the day and is doing my laundry at the end of it.  He shares all costs with me. He keeps an eye on my stuff, likes my car and watches my back. And he actually enjoys driving.

I’m not sure I should get used to this, but I’m certainly grateful to have him around. Plus he’s good company.

It’s been another bad day for autonomia and pain (not helped by a 2am to 4am bout of cortisol-induced insomnia), but my left leg isn’t bad and these beds aren’t bad either, so I’m dosing up on tulsi tea to get through the night and inviting a better physical state tomorrow.

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I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore

We made spanking time:  crossed all of Kansas, made it to Limon, Colorado (and the best ribeye in I can remember), and got our first glimpse of vertical: Pike’s Peak at long range.

View CRPS – Art & Spirit: renew, refine, research, revise in a larger map
Kansas was unbelievably flat. Not quite as flat as a billiard table, because those are too small to really convey the right impression.  Every now and then, there was a bit of texture — a teeny dell, a couple yards deep; a bit of watering hole; something. I’d stare at it in relief.

Then the landscape went back to flat. Really damn flat. I mean, flat, flat, flat, flat, flat.

Flatter.

The conservatism that’s such a feature of the Midwest makes some sense when you see it. The whole place is so flat (especially Kansas!) that there’s no privacy. You have to plant dozens of trees around your house before you can have any hope of discretion.

With such a constant sense of exposure, doesn’t it make sense that people would edit their own behavior before it can be edited for them? We all behave more carefully when we feel we’re being watched. Around here, it’s hard not to watch anything that isn’t …. flat.

Tomorrow, my sweetie assures me, there will be terrain. Lots of it.

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Better

My sweetie got here safely, despite the macramé of transit between there and here.

I spent the day reorganizing the car, throwing away a couple of bags and coming up with some donations for goodwill.

We’re one hour outside of Kansas City, which I drove all the way through from South to North. It’s far and away the most attractive and pleasant-feeling city I’ve seen since Massachusetts.

I love the minarets…

A minaret on  church? Why not? Especially if you gild that lilly…

The fact that gas is only three dollars a gallon doesn’t hurt. One day, I’d be happy to check out the music scene there.

Tomorrow, I get to share the driving! Meanwhile, it’s a quiet evening in good company.

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