Foody Judy

My days down here appear to be structured around what I'm eating. Today was no different. We went to Cerro Gordo to Judy's Kitchen, home of the fantastic pies we get every time we come to Illinois. Their lunch is none too shabby either. Cowboy burger: 1/4 pounder, onions, cheese, barbecue sauce, on Texas Toast. Serve with loaded fries? That'll do nicely, though I think eating maybe over for the day. For now.
Ooh, and I forgot the peach cobbler with ice cream I had for dessert. LUNCH!

Rip Van Mexican

I don't remember a lot about yesterday. I do remember lying down listening to plays on Radio 4 Extra. I know I went to the LazBoy in the front room. Chilled out and leant in. The next thing i remember is being woken up to go out for a Mexican at 8:30, which was great. Then, I got a chocolate milkshake on the way home. It was really good. And thats it. I'm sure great thoughts were had, but they chose to wait for another day.

Ice Cream Ambush.

If you find yourself in Urbana Ilinois, make sure you go to the Courier Cafe. Hand dipped milkshakes, great food, huge desserts! My advice? don't start with a hand dipped milkshake, pile through a load of top food, cane a Headliner, ice cream under a tower of whipped cream,  and expect to come out feeling anything, except that you would never like to eat again. Until the next day, when I looked the menu up online...

Who Art In…?

Yesterday, we got to meet the hospital chaplain, maybe. Conservatively dressed, heels a little too high, eyes reassuringly thousand yard starey. Very nice. She then pitched us all doing the Our Father together. Bugger. That one's been a while. Just how lapsed am I? No worries.
I was bought up Irish Catholic, and like an old Status Quo tune, you start it, I'll remember all the words. Turns out, nobody knew exactly who she worked for. The first thing that crossed my mind was,
"She's been thrown out of here three times today already!"
Now I think she was a Gideon Ninja. Appears from nowhere, does the nice, vanishes...

Chicken Fried Steak

We were sat this evening, enjoying the special, chicken fried steak. The question was then timidly asked

"What's in it?"

We all agreed that it didn't look like chicken. A fried hamburger? We asked our waiters. They shrugged.

"Great though isn't it?"

No argument there. It tastes amazing!

"What is it exactly?"

Alton Brown, over to you.

It's cheap steak, fried, like a chicken.

"Ooh.Chicken Fried Steak, you mean?"

" Duh...."

As you were.

Awake-ish

I woke up. My left hand decided I was moving too early, and shut down. It's decided to stop sulking now, and is operating like a teenager, who doesn't want to get up for school.
"I am up. I am. God! You're always so horrible to me..."
This happens to me a lot. I get to play the neuro-lottery every morning, seeing what it is I have to work with that day. Is a pain in the arse, but 22 years into MS? I'll take it.
I was thinking this, as I read another story of someone dying tragically from MS. It's usually 20 years.   Ropey morning starts aside, and days that dwindle into dust, I'm actually doing alright.
If you can physically do what you want, but it isn't happening exactly how you want, right now? Stop fucking whining. Enjoy the walk

Massive Attack.

On the way to Beth's mum and dads, we stopped at Shelton fireworks. They have a store either side of the Indiana border, as you can't buy them in Illinois or Ohio. People were coming out of the store with small bags of fireworks, looking happy, and a little devilish, they knew what was coming. Beth went in, while Abbey and I waited in the car. she came out with a trolley full of fireworks, with names such as The Tsunami and the Massive Attack. Ooh, this is going to be a lot of fun.
After completing our run through the death weather, we rolled up to her mum and dads. Beth's brother John and his wife Kate turned up, we had pizza, then headed off to Beth's best friend Leslie's farm. John and his best friend Travis went out and set the fireworks up. they know exactly what they are doing, so the apocalypse that came next, was perfectly safe. My favorite? the one which swiveled left and right firing rockets. Amazing display, fantastic end for Beth and I's birthday week.
Fireworks done, a superb cake, made by Leslie's son Max. Thank you to to the pyros and the baker. Couldn't have been any better...

Up.

I slept most of last night, woken up to have a nice plate of pasta, dozed off again, and found myself starting Saturday very early. What to do?

Watched 6 bullets, the Jean Claude Van Damme anti human trafficking film. The solution is to blow everything up, and kill all the baddies, badly.

Now listening to Radio 6, a nice way to glide into the day, after all that Van Damme kerfuffle.

Questions

Home from Hocking Hills, nap turns to a nice long sleep. Day is done,right? No. Let's go check out our good friends acting at Schiller, in The Barber of Sevillle. That was great! Let's go say hi and go home? No. Let's all go to Easy Street and have some food and do some drinking. Lovely. It's after 12, home now, right? Wrong. Let's go to Thurmans and drink some more. Fantastic! It's 2:30, we're done now? Yes we are. You may now go home for a lovely drunk extension of the sleep you had earlier.

Top night!

Hocking Hills

Beth is over working in Logan, so I'm sitting outside the Hocking Hills visitors centre. I already checked that I wasn't hallucinating before, and have had a wander around the pencil sharpener museum. Weather perfect, view amazing. That'll do nicely.

We then went for lunch at theCedar Falls Inn. Great food, and really chilled out. We then went about a bit, looking at stuff. There's a lot to look at down there. Last stop an Ice cream from Ralphs, a butter pecan with pistachio . Now home. Time for a nap.

True Horror.

Last night talk turned to horror films. I love a really good horror film, the more intense and creepy, the better. I'll even put the shitty "Bang! Crash!" ones on in the background. The films I like the most, are those that have tone, and create their own space. The best horror films exist in a place that you are happy to immerse yourself into  for a couple of hours, take the plunge, and come out the other end shaking your head, " whew..."

My absolute favorites are the ghost stories, where everything is implied. Ugetsu, The Haunting  and a new film, A Field in England are great at this.

I know a horror film has got it right, when I'm glad I'm watching it in the day, and not late at night on my own...

And we're off....

Up. Beth had to get to Cincinnati for work today, so the three of us were out in the garden, Beth and I drinking coffee,  Abbey bombing up and down the yard, by 5:30am this morning. My right hand even decided to join us for an early breakfast, having slept in late yesterday.
Today is going to be hot. 92 degrees, if you don't mind! I foresee much of today being a wash, I'm glad Abbey and I got to play early. This evening is going to be fun, I'm going out with Joe and Mark, for the sort of drinking I really like. Knocking about with good mates, chatting shite. I'm sure I shall be writing later to complain that I appear to be living on Crematoria, out of The Chronicles of Riddick.

And Relax...

The coffee of  today has run out. I woke up unable to feel my right hand at all. This, with the coffee push, did make me verbally swing at will. Having read it back,  I don't regret one word of it. This is how most people with MS feel, and keep to themselves. I see it as my solemn duty to stand for all of us, and say what decent people will not.
I'm not having a pop at anybody, it's more an imaginary fight, that never comes up as I apparently emit a don't fuck with me on this, ever, vibe.
Words hurled,  feel much better and have been putting about listening to the radio, and writing more tunes. All is well,  everyone have a lovely day. As you were.....

A little ranty

If I'm questioned on what it is I do, why I don't do more, my reflex response is,
"Go fuck yourself!" I can't abide ignorance, usually pitched by those who couldn't walk 5 feet in my shoes without breaking down, weeping, and praying for the MS to stop. I wouldn't wish MS on my worst enemy. But, it is what it is. I'll get on with dealing with it, doing what I can when I can. Doubt me on this if you like, and feel free to fuck off.

Home Solo.

It's 1:45am. I appear to have started this week early. In the kitchen, the world service, in the front room, Resodent Evil : Retribution, where I'm typing, Radio 6. This is what happens when I get the house to myself. Wake up whenever I like, make sure there is some noise around the house. Abbey is with Beth, and I do miss the tinkle of her collar when she's gone. Abbey that is....
I've spent my week processing loss, and enjoying the memories I have of my nan.
Beth is back on Tuesday I think. How many horror films can I fit in by then? Bet it's a lot.

Jizz Rab.

Beth and Abbey have decamped to Illinois until Tuesday. I spent today watching films, a documentary that set my teeth on edge, Kidnapped by God, and enjoyed some of the ribs that we got from the Jazz Rib Fest on Friday night.

When we arrived at the festival it was late, and raining slightly. The main stage was pumping out cool modern jazz into the darkness. We walked a block and a half, top parking, on a meter no less, and walked into the rib corridor. The smell was unbelievable, everyone was wandering around very happy. It was so good, I've got the t-shirt.

This evenings rib dinner put me into a lovely food coma. I'm now up, more films? No more documentaries I hate, though it's very relaxing to heckle the witless on screen,  as they try and justify their bullshit.

Still thinking about my Nan, Beth sent me a lovely picture of her and I. I'm going back in August, I already decided to spend a few weeks, celebrate her, and to catch up with people I adore, that I don't see near  enough anymore.  And I did call it the Jizz Rab festival.

Nan.

Yesterday, after I found out about my nan, I thought I wouldn't sleep at all, even though I felt exhausted. At some point my body decided to do the decent thing, and shut me down.

I woke up this morning knowing I had to get a hold of people back home, to make sure they were ok, and explain the change in my travel plans.

 I was due to fly Wednesday night. I was rushing back to see my nan for the last time. Beth and I were in a traffic jam coming through Indiana, when I got the call I was dreading.

"Nan died Si."

I sat in shock for a while,cried, and then told Beth all the great memories I have of her.

 My nan was proper old school, she enjoyed life, no matter how difficult it got. She lived through the London blitz, and took no rubbish from anyone, ever.

Married to my Grandad, a devout Irish Catholic, it was never said what she was. Atheist? She was just-not that interested in this Jesus business.

Grandad would take us to church, Nan would have a great breakfast ready for us when we got back. She liked the Irish catholic social club St. Vincent's, we'd go there most weekends when I was a kid. 

She loved the people, the bands,the dancing, and the bingo. Church just wasn't her thing. And there was never any issue with it,ever. Ever. It took until I was older to realise this was a little unusual. 

People loved her for who she was, and she loved them right back.

She had my back, my whole life, I loved talking with her and being around her. Truly decent, always smiling, I am going miss her, so much. 

Rest easy Nan. You showed me what is important, and what truly means something. Job done xxx

Handy. Really? Well...

A toilet has one very specific, incredibly useful job. It is the bouncer, that lets last nights dinner know it's time to leave.
"Now, we've all had a good night. Let's not have any trouble."
The nightmare is being in someone else's house, and realizing too late, that this particular toilet is in a snit. The debris remains.
"This is going nowhere. Can't wait to meet everybody."
Fuck.
Cue Dowd DIY, which entails taking the lid off, and fishing around hoping for the best. I thought I broke everything, at least twice. Debris remains.
"Where is everyone, I can't wait to see you explain this shit."
Bugger.
Dowd DIY continues.
And then, resolution, everything back to normal.
Wow. I genuinely didn't see that coming. Nor did the porcelain throne, which flushed in a huff.
"Hmm. Ok, you got me."
Handy? Really? No. Really lucky? Yes.

Stand

Since it's one of those days, here's something I truly believe. The friends I have that are the closest to me, know how to stand, and not back off when the storm rolls in. They are usually people who've had their back against the wall, with nowhere to go but forward.
I know, and like people who head for high ground when the awful arrives. They are just not the core, the people who I would look to in the clutch
. Bit much? It is true though, I'll give it that. Nap.

Called in

When I'm told my gran has stopped eating, isn't/can't drink fluids, her heart is packing up, and is being transferred  to a hospice "to make her comfortable.", I know I'm getting on a plane.
I'm going to fly Wednesday, get in Thursday morning, and stay at my old mans until the following Wednesday. That's the plan I have for now. And to get a ticket. Should be cheap right? They want to sell those last seats.....bugger. So, immediate evac, see everyone soon. Si.

Seated slumber

I've decided that when we move next, there has to be a space for a Lazboy. I just had an amazing nights sleep in one at Jan and Carls. I always knew they were good, but that good?!! Our house is a very sweet old Victorian, designed before the genius of the Lazboy arrived, and therefore doesn't have the space.
I've tried out other super relaxing chairs, particularly the one in the infusion suite, but it doesn't touch the slumber the Lazboy insists on. Ah.....
Storm was a coming, it seems to have changed its mind. Let's see how long that lasts.

Midwest Storm Warning.

Awake. Lightning is flashing every couple of seconds and the sky is growling in the distance. Outside the city, the storm is way more primal. All I could hear sitting at the back door,  was the storm gathering pace, and a toad, looking for somewhere safe to hide. The sky is lighting up a little less now, the storm has decided to move on, there is plenty of wide open farmland to play in. I never zsaw weather like this when I lived in England. Relentless, potentially lethal, and here, apparently.
Not out in the farmland at all, just outside where I am. I just saw lightning, strike the golf course.The thunder is getting louder, the rain intensifying, as the ground shakes. Not a night to be out camping.
My weather report.
"This one, best watched through a window, inside a grounded house."

Hangover end .

Down here in Monticello, golf course as the back garden, weather amazing. Hangover sticking around like an unflushable turd. It's not a bad hangover, more like a bossy aunt, prodding you to get ready.
"Great uncle Tony will be here soon. Spiff yourself up, you know he likes the young'uns smart."
"Ah hah....."
"I don't have a great uncle Tony, and I know where this bullshit was going. Nap.

Poison Pineapple

I puffed and chuffed  my way into the morning. Woken by a barking, lending fool, I was then turfed from my repose on the sofa, by the sound of a breakfast seeking pooch, flying down the stairs. Fuck. I staggered into the kitchen, whacked the coffee in, and hoped for the best.
Some sips later, I went from grumpy to merely churlish. Lots to do. Coffee in, I put the rubbish and recycle out, bought a suitcase up from the garage, and am now typing, letting the poison pineapple alcohol of last night, leave my system.
Abbey is fed, and ready to play. Good luck with that, though in my heart I know it's going to happen. When offered an alcohol soaked piece of pineapple to eat, initiation or not, illegal hooch based? Best left, though to honest, total hoot. Would I do that again? Yeah.
Keys with Yury, my one disaster of last night. Everything else seems to be here, I'll take that as a win.

Home sweet home.

Jeni Bauers love letter to Columbus summed up a lot of how I feel about living here. When I landed here 12 years ago, expecting to be going to live in Chicago, I had no idea how things were going to work out. I'd come from London, what is this Columbus you speak of? It took me a month or so before I decided,
 " This place is pretty relaxed.  Good food, fun bars, everyone seems cool. Best find something to do."
First up, improv at Carolyn Hardings class. That was cool, what next? Shakespeare? Ooh, never done that before. Who is going to book me to take a crack at that? Bless your heart Actors Theatre, gutsy move on your part. I'll do this. And do the standup I left when I got sick in London. Fantastic!
What? Ill, can't do any more.  Bugger.
The improv people have still got space? Cool. The actors would let me back in, even though I'm too ill to work with them? They know I'd do it if I could? I can move around as MS dictates, and find somewhere to land?
Why would I live anywhere else? Exactly. Cheers Columbus. Love ya x

Tungsten

Tungsten, one of the naturally hardest elements. The reason our lightbulbs used to work as well as they did. Best fuck that up then.

This happens all the time, fixing that which isn't broken, surrounding the lesser product with the glow of the new. Digital v vinyl is a great example, trading the quality for immediacy. Do I use the new? Yep, but I do miss the warmth of old. Netflix, so immediate, digital projection, so easy. Better quality? Not even close. I write this whilst listening to tunes on my iPhone....Careful what you wish for.

Changing of the guard.

Once a month I go to a neurology infusion suite in Gahannaa, and infuse the help I need. MS cannot be cured, only delayed. The drug I infuse, Tysabri, though dangerous, is the best defense against the MS attack, which  never ends. The drug is in and I need to take a couple of days to let the blood settle. Sounds bizzare, but I can actually feel the change, as the guards form serried ranks in my blood, repelling the never ending awful.  Trippy as you like, but really effective.
If you need me to do anything in the next few days? Best let that go.

Sausage Gravy

This morning Beth shared with me what we had left of the sausage gravy. This is a genius food of the Midwest. I finished mine, picked up my guitar and have only stopped playing to write this. Infusion, right? But I've got tunes to do...

5am and all is

Up, coffee, no banana. Toast? Half of that top scone we got in Cleveland? We got it last week, will it still be? Yogurt maybe. Pixies on Radio 6, so I get to bob my head whilst deciding. garden very wet, it must have rained yesterday? I don't remember much about yesterday, I did sleep very well. Should have a shave before heading up to the infusion suite. I don't need them offering me a dollar, and asking if I wouldn't mind moving on. Toast.

Skipping Stones

Today isthe day before my infusion. I have felt the last one preparing for its exit for the past couple of days. Today it finished packing its bags and left. I had a few plans for today, yoga, that creative social networking thingy. My day then turned into awake, asleep, awake, asleep, currently awake. How long will that last? No idea. My body is a stone, skipping as best it can, until I pass out. Unlike a stone on the water, I get to make a resurgence. Well, more a slow nod than a resurgence....

Perfect Friday night.

Yesterday we went to the baseball. The first thing we saw was skydivers parachuting onto the field. What!! The game was excellent, games, songs, families everywhere, total hoot. And we won! Then, a firework display, a really good firework display, after the match ended. My uncle loved it, I did too. I told him
"That's why I love living here, this is just something that's done." Brilliant!

Happy get out England and such.

Up. As ever, coffee, banana, and a fed pooch. Last night was a hoot. Off to the races at Scioto Downs,  miniature Ben Hur hoofing around the track. Free to get in, food, drink and bets you can live with losing. Then, the Racino, where we played loud games we didn't understand but were a good laugh.  Onto  Buckeye donuts where we began to watch the downtown firework display, whilst eating batons and drinking milk. Beth the took us on a trip around the inner periphery,  to get closer to the booming apocalypse. We then bailed as the booming rumbled to a close and headed home. Cool.
This morning, heard a reading of the Declaration of Independence on the radio. Ah, sorry about that. As you were America. Keep on trucking, take it from a very happy expat, you are a top place to live, and  fireworks when it's warn? Genius!

Door policy.

Today I stood back to let an older lady come through the door to the store  first. I didn't realize the door was heavy. She said
"I'll just take the weight then..."
I thought
" Oh fuck off you ricket riven witch. Get back to your day job, haunting the dreams of lost children."
Too much? I do love the rhythm of ricket riven witch....

LSE

Up early listening to the world service on NPR, which runs throughout the night. As often happens, a serious, world wide event got reported, by someone from the London School of Economics. How did I end up going to university there? By accident.
My first choice was York, where my argument that my bad grades didn't matter as one of my History teachers had bet the other 50 pounds that I'd be the only student to get an A, didn't wash. He was right, York can get fucked. Next up Warwick university, whose campus had swimming pools, fields, and seemed really friendly. Got the right points, buta not the exact grades they wanted. Out. Coming in third, the LSE. No fields, no swimming pool, that London. Not for me, right?
After the exam results came out they started sending me info on halls of residence. I still didn't get what was going on. Come on Warwick! Nothing from them, more info from LSE. I finally got it, and trudged off to that London.
It turned out to be the luckiest move ever. Great mates, fantastic education, surrounded by people from all over the world. My thanks to York and Warwick, your diss turned out very well for me. Oh, and get fucked!

Hmm

Watching CSI Miami, murder based on sororities. Heads up, the rest of is learned how to make friends. Doesn't mean I don't like people who were in fraternities or sororities, does mean I always see a self entitled , ring wearing blowhard as a cunt.
Shouldn't have drunk that extra coffee. Still twats though.

Early Start

Up. Coffee, banana, dog looking for breakfast that is still an hour away, laptop still dead. Radio 6 streaming ,the air of the day wcomfortable, for now. Having written yesterday that I had to stop, I changed my mind when the shopping troopers came back. We went down Easy Street around nine and ate and drank until twelve. Came home, food comas all round. Wonder what today will bring?