WE ALL LOVE YOU LIKE CRAZY

I found out today that my computer as a potentially fatal problem. It's inoperable. It could "go" any minute, or it could last for years. Kinda like an computer aneurysm. The thought of losing Dell is very worrisome. He has been with me for three years now and we've become quite attached. In fact, one might say that I'm addicted to my computer. I spend an inordinate amount of time surfing, reading, doing puzzles (I did hear that doing word puzzles can help prevent Alzheimer's) and writing on my various blogs and forums. But I jest - about something that is very serious.
When my computer was opened up (I was terrified to try this at home,) it was discovered that it needed a good cleaning (thanks in part to Harley who enjoys sleeping on top of the monitor,) so I purchased a can of spray and it was soon clean and dust-free inside. Afterwards, my mind wandered to a recent episode of Intervention, the Emmy-nominated reality show on the A&E network. The episode was about Allison, a so-called "huffer" who was addicted to computer cleaners like the one I had just purchased. She "scores her drugs" at the local Office Max or Wal-Mart and takes a few hits before she's even out of the parking lot. Someone on a forum I visit noted her resemblance to the actress Anne Hathaway and she soon became known as Anne Huffaway. Some enterprising soul made a tribute to her that was posted on You Tube. Here it the link is for your horror and enjoyment: Allison is Walking on Sunshine.
Jeff (We Love You Like Crazy) VanVonderen finally got her agree to rehab, but only after her cats were confiscated by the local SPCA and she was taken into custody and later hospitalized for threatening suicide.
She's now clean and sober, but only for a couple of months, so it's too early to see if the rehab worked and to determine if an how much brain damage occurred.
What is it that causes some people to become addicted while others make it through life without becoming a slave to a substance, person or activity? Allison has a sister Erica. Both were allegedly sexually abused by a male relative when they were little. Charges were dismissed after a traumatic trial, but Erica is okay and Allison is a hot mess, married twice and currently prostituting herself to a sugar daddy for funds for her addiction. Most of the Intervention subjects start out perfectly normal and sometime in their teen years they go off the rails. Most are alcoholics or drug abusers, but Intervention has also showcased gamblers, anorectics, bulemics and even a compulsive shopper. Allison is the first huffer in the five seasons that Intervention has been on A&E. I sincerely hope she is the only one. The humour of the Allison parody aside, addiction is a nasty, tragic business. It destroys the lives of the addict and those around the addict. To the addict, nothing and no one matters except the object of his or her addiction. An addict will lie, steal, cheat and manipulate to support his or her habit.
Think about that the next time you have dealings with someone who is addicted. I learned all this the hard way - long before Intervention.

I'M SLEEPING WITH THE FISHES NOW

Insomnia has been a part of my life for several years now. I have little names and excuses for it, like Sunday Night Insomnia, my most faithful friend who visits me regularly every Sunday night without fail. This is when I spend my sleeping hours ruminating over everything I've done wrong, a sort of start-up for another week of failure. Even when I have something to look forward to, insomnia visits so that I can be reminded that the outcome will fall well below expectations. The other nights of insomnia have pet names. but they pale in comparison to Sunday Night Insomnia. I decided to become proactive and set about to end this hold that insomnia has on me - without resorting to medication. I consulted a number of books and visited a number of websites and decided that the feng shui approach might work best. I painted my bedroom a dark, relaxing red; made light-blocking curtains and bought a new bed with a pillow top mattress. I cleared out the small television that I sometimes watched until I fell asleep. No BlackBerry allowed; no newspapers; no clutter; and no disturbing books or magazines. Cats allowed if they don't spend too much time grooming themselves or decide it's time to play. It worked for a while but I soon started having the usual insomnia and Sundays Nights returned to sleepless nights.
So, I decided to get an aquarium, another feng shui cure for insomnia. As a former aquarium owner, I knew the basics, so I was able to get a used tank and enough stuff to begin getting some fish. I decided to get low maintainance fish, so my first purchase was three rose tetras and two cat fish. I named the tetras Curly, Larry and Moe and the catfish were named Bert and Ernie. (Not very creative, but I didn't want to give them "special" names as they might not last long enough to grow into them.) They seemed do fine, swimmingly in fact if you'll excuse the pun. Buoyed by the successful additions to my pet family, I purchased three more fish: a trio of cherry barbs that I dubbed the Bronte sisters: Charlotte, Emily and Ann, but their behaviour soon gave me the impression that I had adopted a menage a trios. In fact their overall behaviour left a lot to be desired. They became very aggressive towards the docile Bert and Ernie who spent their time cleaning up the food dropped by the other, less careful fish. Frankly, I expected better behaviour from the Brontes, but some sort of detente was achieved and Bert and Ernie are once again vacuuming the tank bottom.
I began to enjoy watching the hi-jinks and beauty of my fish family as I dozed off to sleep. One day, however, after doing the requisite "exchange" of 30% of the water, I noticed that the tank was cloudy and it remained so until the next day when I started to panic that I had done something wrong. I went to the internet to a site devoted to aquariums and typed in "cloudy tank" in the search engine. There were any number of fixes offered in the forum, but when they wanted me to join, I groaned. Another clever "username" that I'd have to come up with. Can't I just find out the answer without having to wrack my brain for a username that I won't forget and a password (case sensitive?) I finally decided on fishbellywhite in honour of my legs in summertime and found out about something called algae blush and high ph levels and all sorts of other horrors that can befall an aquarium and its inhabitants. But nowhere was the answer to my question: does the fact that my cats drink out of the aquarium have anything to do with it? I, fishbellywhite would never ask that question on.this.forum. No way. I might be asked to leave for allowing cruelty to my fishes. Okay, so they all cower near the plastic shipwreck whenever one of my boys takes a drink, but they snap back pretty quickly once the cat leaves. He's not interested in them, but he does show a fondness for their flaked food and I have to shoo him away at feeding time. Ares (shown in the picture,) looks upon fish food floating on top of the water as a sort of soup du jour - a lukewarm Tetramin chowder if you will.
Well, the cloudy tank continues, but the fish are still enjoying their smoggy little home. It's those daily invasions by those monsters who steal their food and water that are what gets them angry. Afterward, they go berserk for a while, streaking around in the tank. One of the barbs goes into a death spiral - fins up, in an alpha state until the others calm down. Soon they'll be suffering from insomnia along with me.

GOODBYE, PERRY ELLIS

Cleaning a clothes closet can be exhilarating for some and depressing for others. Unfortunately, I have fallen into the latter category and today's culling of extraneous garments from my closet forced me to face one of my biggest failures in life: the inability to the lose weight that has accumulated on my body over the past twenty years. It was twenty years ago that I quit smoking; witnessed a murder; and stopped caring about the extra pounds that were slowly creeping on my once model-thin frame. Too much other stuff was happening - most of it bad. Even a job that I loved did little to slow down the momentum to obesity and now I'm faced with the physical manifestation of years of bad times; bad nutrition (or lack thereof;) bad financial planning; and bad karma.
Fortunately, the worst has passed and I'm on the road to health and happiness, but the pounds still stick to me like duct tape on old sneakers. So, it was with a heavy heart that I opened my closet of lost dreams and started to chuck out the clothes that no longer fit, or the ones bought "on spec" that will never fit - or will go out of style before they do. Goodbye Perry Ellis designer slacks that I loved so dearly when I was a size 14; goodbye Abercrombie and Fitch cargo pants that said XL on the label, that I could not even draw over my fat thighs; goodbye Eddie Bauer shirt that is disgustingly tight; goodbye to all my lady friends: Anne Klein. Liz Claiborne, Gloria Vanderbilt, Donna Karan and even their poorer cousin, Cotton Ginny. They were all well respresented in my failure closet and now they'll go back to where they came from: Value Village, or as some of us call it - the VeeVee Boutique. You don't think I bought these clothes at full retail price, did you? I may be fat, but I'm not stupid. Besides, even if I had the money, I would not venture into a regular store and buy designer duds in my present size 18.
Back when I was a very slim size 5 and making good money, I was a shopoholic and regularly scoured the boutiques and high end stores in Buffalo. Oh, the clothes I had then! Nothing less than major designers graced my thin frame. My hair was done by the top stylist in town; shoes were made from Italian leather; top of the line make-up and perfume - I even had my nails done. Hard to believe. Yeah, and I tooling around in a 1961 dark red Corvette (with two roofs) as well. Good times.
So, a look at my present size and clothing options brings back painful memories and feelings of abject failure, but it also brings stirrings of hope and promise. Here's something I can fix! I know how to do it! Of all the things that I rail against, this is one that I can actually change without having to convince anyone but myself that it needs changing. Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe I'll keep those Perry Ellis slacks after all.