... And Bite They Will, Part 1

As an Atheist I've never said "Jesus Christ" so much as I did the night I discovered a colony of bed bugs in my apartment.  After losing a hundred pounds I ate my first pancake in 11 months.  Tonight I had my final comfort meal.  Apparently there's some parable about a guy who is excused to work on the Sabbath because his ox falls in a ditch and I texted my boyfriend through a giant bite of glazed donut that my ox fell off the cliff.

Tonight my friend texted me and asked me if I was okay.  I said, "Not really, but I'm being an adult about it."   Well it's time to put on the big girl panties and act like an adult.  Not many properly adjusted adults drown their sorrows in maple syrup.

If this happens, you will experience a few emotional extremes.

Denial is the first emotion.  Agreeably this is up there with fire, prison and job loss.  No one wants this.  These guys do not discriminate.

Acceptance, shortly followed by panic, comes next.  I will tell you one very important thing, crying doesn't help.  Work through this phase quickly because you don't have that kind of time.  You have to act quickly and decisively.

Reconciliation is next and that's where I've stopped.  I accept that I will likely lose everything I own that cannot be sterilized.  To be honest, I don't want it anymore.

That morning after, my boyfriend and I went to breakfast and had pancakes.  I was fizzing out and he could see me in a tailspin.  He told me about a friend of his who had to do a big project about birds when he was in school.  He waited until the last minute and he was worrying about it.  It was one of those situations where the anxiety had replaced the need to complete the task.  His dad sat down and helped him and said, "Okay, we can do this.  We'll do it one bird at a time."  When Charles was at work, worried he wouldn't get the paper out, his friend would tell him, "One bird at a time."

So sit down and make a list.  Identify your birds.

Day 1:  Read this article: Bed Bug FAQ
Throw out everything you can bear to part with. If there are signs of the bugs on anything, get over it.  Throw it out.  When in doubt, throw it out. Wash every stitch of fabric you own.  You can get a mattress en-caser and pull out the saran wrap but I did those things and I've still got bugs.  They're simply stop-gap measures.  Vacuum everything but throw the bag out immediately. Clean what you can within a 10 ft radius of the point of discovery.  Look throughout the house and identify any hot spots.  Clean those areas too.  You'll get your workout.

Day 2:  If you have pets, bathe them.  Do it.  You don't want to bathe your cat?  Tough.  I was surprised I didn't go to the emergency room missing an eye and a finger. Find your lease and insurance policies.  You may be responsible for all of this.  If you rent, don't accept blame.  No one knows where these guys come from.  Don't resume denying this.  You do not have time.  Vacuum again.

Day 3:  That's as far as I've gotten.

There is a lot of good information on the web.  I have found a few common themes:

1 - Do not run.  These guys do not carry disease.  They're just hungry parasites and they're irritating as all hell but they will follow you.  Stay in your room.  Continue to sleep in your bed.  If they follow you to the couch you've just contaminated the entire house.

2 - They do not like heat.  I have decided to put everything I intend to wear for the day into the dryer prior to wearing it to avoid any hitchhikers.  Be conscientious about spreading these guys.  You don't want to piss off your friends.  It's up to you whether you're going to tell them, but be careful because they can hitch a ride anywhere.

3 - Do not use pesticide yourself.  Rid yourself of the notion you have the necessary skills to remove them.  One can of raid doesn't work and neither do eight.  Let the pros handle this.  If a professional says they should fumigate or use a bug bomb, get another professional.  This has to be done right.  One friend of mine told me the only thing that works is heat...

There is nothing easy about any of this, but it's happened thousands of times in your community and mine.  These guys are making a come back because we don't want to spray city-wide pesticides anymore.  It's a risk we take.  Just remember, you'll get through this.  I keep telling myself that at least.

I'll keep you posted about my progress.

Nature Should Happen to Other People

Perhaps in the personal ad I placed I should have declined to expose myself to nature.  I think my words were something to the effect of, "I'm not into doing things outside, but I'm willing to learn."  The guy who won the craigslist, Charles, likes to do things outside.  In order to avoid false advertising I have to at least try it, right?

A little history:

I go from pasty to fuchsia in about 15 minutes.  I have suffered from horrible sunburns that scarred, left me sick for days and inspired my parents to treat the environment better in order to preserve the ozone layer.   Yes, there has been more than one because in my youth there was no such thing as water proof sunblock.  As an adult I have endured two major sun burns, both more severe than any I had as a child.  The side effect of one of the medicines I take is, "may increase skin sensitivity to the sun."  Well, thanks there ya stupid drug manufacturer.

In short, I do my absolute best to stay out of the day, seeing as it is all bright and spiky and such.  Charles insisted though, brought 80 SPF sunblock and a cooler for a picnic so I acquiesced.

Now, I have been in nature several times times and each time for longer than the time before.  We have gone to Pedernales Falls State Park, Emma Long City Park and Mt. Bonnell.  There were other places but I didn't always get pictures.  From Mt. Bonnell you can see how the 1% live.

Okay, I must confess.  I kinda had fun.  Charles's father was apparently into nature and he knew all the plants in the areas where Charles grew up.  So Charles pointed things out to me and I listened.  I don't know how well I listened because I was busy trying not to hate it.  As time goes on I think I retain more of the things he tells me. I don't know what these flowers are called, but they're pretty.

Apparently normal people go outside to see pretty things, like flowers, so that leads me to believe that especially in the spring I might be more inclined to think happy thoughts about going outside.

What do I enjoy most?  Well I enjoy the time I get to spend with Charles.  As long as we're together and I still like him and I stay relatively burn-less I am willing to go and do nature with him.  If any of those things change, back to the safety of the tame indoors I go.  For the record though, there will be NO camping.  Ever.  Charles, if you're reading this, we can afford a hotel.

Now, one of my new favorite subjects is this guy:

And with that, my loyal fan(s), I leave you with the sincere intent to write more often.  I encourage you to get outside and enjoy some nature.  I encourage you more to get a funny cat, give it a ridiculous name and inundate the internet with its pictures so I can laugh.

Just plain weird... and fun.

So on Friday night, I went with my boyfriend to a concert in Bastrop, TX. The band is called the Chubby Knuckle Choir.  No, I'm not kidding.  Yes, make all your redneck jokes.  Go ahead.  They're a really good band.  For real.  Just look at them.  How could a band this diverse not be a good, good band?

Several weeks ago I went to lunch with a guy who had a very distinctive posture and he too lived in the bustling metropolis of Bastrop.  There was a man there with a similar posture.  I realized they were the same person.  I confessed to my boyfriend, "Look, I went out to lunch with that guy.  He may stop by and say something."  They are apparently acquaintances. "You went out with him? Really? He's married."  I was tasked with updating him.

Now let me back up a bit.  I don't have this sordid history to be ashamed of.  I met them both via a personal ad and we went out.  Charles just happened to be far more appealing and he made me blush.  There's a certain appeal to being gently nudged outside your comfort zone.  The other guy was nice.  We were able to fill 45 minutes with conversation and he bought me lunch.  That was it.

Charles is a cheap date.  Two glasses of wine and he's giddy.  A direct quote is, "I'm a guy.  If it was funny in seventh grade, it's funny now."  He lives by this.  So I spent most of the night laughing and shaking my head as he giggled about "winning the Internet."

Finally the former date came to my table.  He said, "Do I know you?"  I nodded.  "Melissa, right?"  Yes.  He looked to Charles and Charles re-introduced himself and then, "Are you two together?" Collective nod.  "Oh, wow Man, congratulations.  This is a wonderful woman."  Then there were the usual platitudes and "oh it was just lunch," and "no hard feelings?" None.  Okay, good to see you, bye now.  Then he said, "Wow this is awkward." and I said, "Everything's fine."

When he left it was suggested, by Charles, to my surprise that my former date perceived the lunch we had as more than "just lunch."  What?... I felt terrible for a few minutes.  I worked through it pretty quickly.  

Let me be clear about one thing.  The former date made no attempt to contact me after the date so I just assumed he felt the same.  There was no chemistry.  He may have felt it, but I didn't and it's pretty hard to fake it.

Now, this next part is conjecture.  This conversation took place during the band's break.  One of the band members came to talk to is.  Charles and I were fond of each other.  He licked the hummus bowl and we agreed he was a cheap date.

I noticed the former date hadn't returned to his table.  There was a woman I presume was his date because she looked uncomfortable.  His phone was still on the table.  His liquor was still on the table.  His cooler was still next to the table.  Everyone at the table left about an hour later, leaving his things behind.  "I wonder where he went," was mentioned by one of us.

I can't help but wonder if he left because of me.  I don't take any responsibility for his angst or discomfort.  It was explained later that sometimes guys do this.  They make up this story in their minds about a woman and when it is destroyed it's devastating.  I can't imagine though that I would have that effect on anyone.

I can relate of course because I have been in a similar emotional scenario, but after lunch or coffee if I really felt a connection, the first few days would be rough.  After, I'd be fine.  If I did have that effect on him, it was several weeks later.  It's time to let go.

So, Charles and I spent the rest of the evening enjoying the band.  He told me about the band's history and the bass player's birthday.  He explained his relationship with Rory, the bongo and washboard player.  He's also an excellent singer.  He introduced me to Rory's wife and she is lovely.  All in all I had a really great evening and yet another interesting story to relate about my time with Charles.

To the lunch date, if you've discovered this blog, I wish you well.

Awesome cocktails & Hailey Tuck

I went with my friend, Amy, and my new fellow, Charles, to see a lounge singer named Hailey Tuck at the East Side Showroom.  It was a bar that reminded me of a speakeasy from the 20s.  There were curtains on all the windows.  The bartenders were dressed in aprons with bands on their arms and they stirred their drinks like professionals.  They served their water and their beer in mason jars.  Their furniture was a mishmash of various styles like it had just been thrown together.  All in all the style worked.

I had a Moscow Mule and it was delicious.  It was all I've ever dreamed of in a cocktail.  The common recipe is:

2 parts vodka
3 parts Ginger Beer
1 part Lime juice
Mix and pour over ice.

It has this really strong flavor that isn't sweet at all.  It was like nothing I expected.  I was very pleased with the result.  Add to it, it was visually pleasing.

The thing I love about this pictures is how nicely Hailey is framed by the hipsters.  Those guys went out of their way to look like they were cooler than everyone.  I clarified with Amy that it is apparently the style for young people to now wear their hair in a style that makes them look as if they cut it themselves with gardening shears.  If you have to go to this much effort to look cool then you should never leave the house.

Hailey sang old-time favorite jazz songs.  She was little and sassy and pretty and she sang really well.  My favorite part of her act is that her dad was also her drummer.  She decided since he was coming to all her shows anyway that she would put him to work.  She knows the music.  She knows the history behind the music.  She was able to recite a fact or two at least.  She feels it in her bones and sings from her happy little heart.  I would go back to that club to see her any time.

My only complaint was that it was a bit pricey.  I do not make a lot of money.  If you want me to see a show in your bar please charge less than $12 per drink.  Also the hostess tried to seat us at the bar first.  I wasn't having that.  Then they wanted to seat me at a table that would have to be climbed over or under to be seated at comfortably.  I was with a date and I wanted to say, "Thanks, ya hussy, for making me look like a cow on my date."  Instead I identified a much more accessible table and said, "We'll sit here."  She wanted to protest. I shot her a look that suggested there would be a disturbance in the force that would result in her tears.  That is a surprisingly effective method of communication.


Here is a link to the bar.   http://eastsideshowroom.com/  They will make you a good old-fashioned cocktail which may be pricey or they have wine and beer too.  It looked like the beer specials ran about $5 a pint.  Unfortunately, I don't drink beer.  It's worth the price of admission.  On their calendar they have Hailey Tuck listed a few times.  I'm fairly certain you won't be sad you went.

My fella also wrote about it on his blog. Here's the link: MusicMissionary. 

Only on a date

I met someone new.  He's been vetted by my best friend, who after threatening his existence should he displease me, gave me the thumbs up.

I have issues with crowds.  More importantly I have issues with assholes.  Put the two together and you'll find someone who hasn't been to a lot of shows.  I typically hate crowds more than I love music which is a lot.  Words like phobia and anxiety have been used.

Most of our discussion when not together has been had over IM and text.  I get a text, "Hey, call me."  I knew it was important.  We have spoken on the phone only when we couldn't type fast enough to articulate what we had to say or there was driving involved.  "Remember that Japanese punk band I told you about?..." After warnings about staying out late and parking and walking and meeting his friend and assuring him that I'd be fine in a crowd, I agreed to go.  It had nothing to do with the promise to hold my hand.  (Ok, maybe a little.)  All I could think is, "I'm a blonde now, I'm 86 pounds lighter, I like having my hand held and this is the coolest thing I'll ever do."

Walking to the show from the car I couldn't help but regret my jeans and tee-shirt and then I saw this guy in front of us with a poorly placed ball cap and hair the color of synthetic banana food additive.  "That's the lead singer of the band.  Don't make fun of people in Austin because they might be a member of the band."  I just gave him the, that color does not occur in nature look.  What do I know and who am I to judge?  I was the one paying to see him perform.


Drinks were had and friends were made and it started to rain and finally the show started.  It was 12:30am and I may be a night person but I'm usually in bed before 1:00am.  I don't know at what point he started holding my hand, but it was being held at this point and I was pleased and even a bit distracted but pleasantly so.  The rain brought the crowd in closer and there were a few people who were assholes but I didn't even think about throat-punching any of them.  


The coolest part about this entire show was the pink girl.  She was a keyboardist and she was really into it.  She was screaming "MAD TIGER!" Off key into the microphone and maybe not in time with the others but that was fine too.  These guys are silly and they dress like power rangers.  They are there to have fun with a crowd that's there to let them lead us through their crazy imaginings.  At one point the bass guitarist puts on an alien costume that is entirely too unwieldy but he makes it work while he rocks it.  In the following picture he's standing on the crowd's hands.  He then tied himself to the rafter and hung by one foot  while he played the bass guitar.

You don't see that at your everyday punk rock show.  There is no way I would have encountered this on my own.  My one resource for this information wouldn't have told me because she would safely have assumed I didn't want to see a bunch of Japanese guys in Power Rangers uniforms hanging from the rafters while singing poorly articulated English songs about Ninja high schools and the punk rock rendition of Old McDonald Had a Farm.  That is a safe assumption for her to make.  My date on the other hand had no such assumptions to bind him from thinking I might enjoy the show if I could work past the crowd.

As a result of seeing the show I had a great evening and some seriously good fun.  I've earned Indie Credit in the eyes of new and old friends alike.  I feel like I'm living closer to the edge for a change.  I'm still safely bound to the responsibilities I carry but I've also seen that the tether goes farther than I thought it did.

I haven't decided yet if, at work, I will explain in detail about my weekend.  A few of them know that I'm seeing someone.  Most of them don't listen to punk rock and I'm absolutely certain the only context they have for the Power Rangers would be through their grand children.  This is why they sit me in the back.

When do teeth become optional?

Last week was a week from hell.  My ex-husband announced he was moving into assisted living from a motel in the hooker and junkie neighborhood.  He accepts he cannot do it by himself anymore.  He says he's taking his medication but he doesn't see himself the same way the rest of the world does.  There are three types of people who live in a motel in the hooker and junkie neighborhoods.  There are hookers and junkies, obviously.  There are also crazy people who are unable to see exactly how devastating their lives have become.  He said, "My problem is I spend my money as soon as I get it."

I said, "Your problem is you send your money to thieves who claim to be women who will love you.  Really they are trained professionals who have marked you as golden."  I was sitting on the edge of one of the double beds trying not to touch anything.  I looked at the cabinet and there were condoms visible and I realized at least he'd upgraded to real women.  I was never trashy enough for his tastes.  I'm not saying this as a judgement against him or for me.  He likes trashy women.  I'm not a debutante but my uniform does not include fluorescent pink zebra-striped spandex either.

He called my mother and said he could not take his, formerly our, pets with him. He had three days to find them homes.  Let me clarify.  I had three days to find them homes.  I asked for this so I'm not going to complain too much, but I will be loud about it.

Monday: The guy who sits next to me at work, Tony, loves Boston's, just lost one of his three dogs and was happy to take another if I couldn't find a home.  My ex's daughter and her best friend agreed to each take a cat.  I told them they needed to sort out who got which cat and I would be happy to deliver said cats to them.

Tuesday: I gave Tony a ride home and we swung through hooker and junkie neighborhood to pick up the dog, Patches.  I drive them both 10 miles past where I live and kiss Patches goodbye.  Fond farewells and all.  He is the good dog.  My dogs, who have been mentioned earlier, are the bad dogs.  I may even have this picture in an earlier blog.  Who knows?

Wednesday: I am scheduled to pick up the cats, Tigger and Buddha.  I get there and we put them both in a case meant to contain dogs while they're in the car.  It isn't meant so much as a carrier, but I have to carry them.  They weren't happy so I had two yelling cats in a box that wasn't meant to be carried unless it was empty.  Nice.  We got in the car and they continued to yell.  Then I smelled it.  I thought for sure I was wrong.

I got to Amy's and she felt the bottom of the case and it was wet.  One of them peed in the carrier.  There were two cats in there and one was about to come out and Oh DEAR!  "We'll put him in the bathroom... You'll have to figure out what to do from there."

Poor Tigger was stuck in there.  She squallered the entire way back to my apartment where I tossed her urine soaked butt into the shower.  For real.  I'm not going to have a urine soaked cat anywhere near my bed.  I figured her day was already bad, it was just a matter of degrees at this point.  

I left her to sort it out after the shower and I went to pick up my mother.  She was happily drunk and just tickled to see me and talk talk talk talk talk talk talk... crunch.  Backing out of the driveway I managed to back over a large rock that dislodged my bumper.  Moving forward I scraped the front of the car on a tree.  It was like had no choice.  My mom actually said, "Be careful, you don't want to disrupt her property."  Really?... 

Side note: I'm getting that fixed tomorrow because I noticed the bumper is gradually becoming more and more dislodged. It will eventually fly off and kill a puppy or something and well I can't live with that.  I told a guy I know, "But I bought an avocado so everything will be fine because that's the closest thing to sex I've had all day."  

Thursday was fun too.  My ex asked me to pick up and hold his bags for him.  He needed to find another place to stay and he didn't want to carry his bags with him on the bus.  I failed to remind him if he hadn't gotten his car repossessed he wouldn't have that problem.  I figured his problems were worse than that so I agreed.  I thought I would be nice one last time.

After work, I took Tony to his car.  I followed him to his house and I met his daughter, wife and other dogs. Patches was so happy to see me. If he could speak he'd say something like, "I knew you'd be back!"  On my way to drop him off at his daughter's my ex called me and asked me to bring him his bags.  Like I had nothing else to do, I was expected to bring him his bags.  When I said, "Tonight?!" he said, "I packed my teeth.  I can't eat without them."

What do you say to that?  I dropped Patches off with his daughter and we were shocked together about profound thoughts involving him packing his TEETH.  

Finally I got to the new place where he was staying and he seemed fine with it.  It looked like a hellhole to me but what do I care.  I dropped off his bags and wished him well. I haven't heard from him and don't expect to.  It takes a lot for me to reach the end of the rope.  I had to actually say to him when he asked to stay with me, "I'm not doing this for you.  I'm doing this for them."

Tigger is resting comfortably at my house with my other cat who is miffed, to say the least.  I think she is sick, with something.  She is happy and active but she is losing weight and drinking a lot.  I fear another "Farewell Comrade" entry.  

Another side note: When I published the entry about Toki dying in September, I sent it to the former executive director of the agency I work for.  We share a friend.  He told the friend we share, "I think Melissa's lost her freakin' mind!"  Yes my friend, I have and frankly, you've never known me while I had it.  

It's a good thing my boss doesn't read this... 

Numbers don't add up

So, I've lost 19.6% of my body mass from when I started the program.  Let me begin with WOW! Who'd have thought 6 months ago I'd be here?  Okay 6 months ago I committed to the decision.  Who'd have thought a year ago I would be here?  I was "fine" with my weight.  I was "okay."  What did those doctor's know anyway?

For my birthday a 10 layer, yes 10 layer cake was made for me and I think I ate it all.  Okay maybe not all of it because there were other people there, but I did eat a good portion of it.  It was delicious.  DELICIOUS!  Now if it's too sweet, it tastes toxic.

I have been released to fruits and vegetables and I swear these cherries I bought were in syrup or something.  They were sooo sweet I couldn't finish the smoothie I made with them.  I think I may have also used too many, but still, a girl's got to dive in head first when she can.  And cherries don't do so well in smoothies, just sayin'.  Don't get me wrong, the first and maybe even the third gulp were delicious, but it started to make me sick in the end I couldn't finish it.

For those of you about to suggest I add carrots, butter or MSG to my shakes, no.  I will not have a carrot shake.  I haven't been released to butter or MSG and I am learning to respect boundaries.

So, I've lost 19.6% of my body mass, but I've only lost 10% of my BMI.  Of course I just looked it up on BMIcalc.org and I found this:

"...BMI poorly detects such conditions as various proportions of fat, muscular mass, bones, cartilage, and water volumes. BMI takes into account the height contribution to weight."

So there's the proof.  These guys are monitoring my heart.  I think it's because if you lose weight incorrectly you can lose heart tissue since you lose muscle mass.  I get my next EKG next week but I feel fine.  I'm fairly certain my heart is in good condition since I'm able to exercise harder than I was when I started the program.  If I'd only lost 10% of my fat that would imply that I may have lost 10% muscle and therefore, potentially 10% of my heart.  I don't think I would be or feel as healthy as I do if I'd lost 10% of my heart.

I remember the finality on February 1st.  I stared at the computer screen that night eating an apple with peanut butter convinced my life was over.  I'm moody as hell at times and I mean moods I've never experienced but right now I feel hopeful.  I feel like I've made the right decision.  I want to stay on this path.  It's no longer the struggle.  

I see other people in the class who are struggling and I try to encourage them as best I can.  There is nothing easy about this class.  There is nothing easy about this lifestyle decision.  I don't think it will ever be easy, but it feels right.

I want to get the before picture from my file and post it with a picture that was taken of me yesterday after I got my hair done.  I look really different.  Everyone says my face looks thinner.  I see a completely different person.  Perhaps in many ways I am a different person.