End of the Adventure

All that glamour couldn't last, and it didn't. I was let go from the place a couple of weeks ago. It's a relief, what with the vermin and the lies.  I miss the people and having a place to go, but I don't miss the crazy, manipulative owner. When he was shot by someone who showed up at his house many years ago, no one who knew him was saddened, nor were they surprised.

It was an adventure, and as unpleasant as it got, especially after I found out that the owner lied about the union and benefits, I'm really glad I got the opportunity to get a glimpse into the retail side of cannabis.

 There were three people in the place who didn't get to be in the union, and, as an inventory person, I was one of them. Even though all the guy had to do was give me the title of processor and then I could be in the union.

Things were pretty catastrophic through July, especially as my hip and back pain got much worse because i was so stressed out that I wasn't going to have insurance through the union.

My supervisor, Ernest, quit a few weeks before i was let go. He texted his resignation with no notice. He was the institutional brain. He fixed the a/c, he did merchandising and stocking, he fixed the ATMs that were always breaking down. As inventory manager, he was supposed to take my reports and do something about the discrepancies, but he was so busy with everything else that he never looked at them. I did what i was supposed to do.

When they let me go, they said it was since Ernest wasn't there anymore, there was no one to read my reports. Until they hired a new inventory manager, they didn't need me. I cautioned them about letting the new system go, and they agreed. I also gave them a list of 15 things that I could do instead, and they said sorry, it's what [the owner] wants. He's breathtakingly cruel, just like someone else we all know.

I'm doing ok. I got a cortisone shot at the end of July, which is a mood lifter. So I am applying for jobs and trying to pass the CBEST math so I can substitute teach and make $205.00 a day.. The test is October 8. Fourth time's a charm. Excuse me, while i head to the local high school to get me an algebra tutor.

Four months

The shop is losing its allure. The work is incredibly boring, and I seem to be working in a vacuum. No one checks what I am doing. I count the tincture towers and edibles over and over. When I was hired, the owner told me I would be doing inventory and some training. He lied about this, and he lied about the union benefits he promised me when I was hired. So I have been freaking out about how sustainable this job is without benefits. I have a subsidized medical insurance policy, but I might end up making too much to be able to keep it. I feel screwed.

Ninety Days to a New Life

It's been 90 days since I started working at the dispensary. I got caught up in a groove of work and weekends. Suddenly, it's  a month since I last wrote. I am now 60. Memorial Day, and Ann and Doug's fabulous party, has come and gone. Game of Thrones is absolutely over.

Work is like a television show. Counting is uninteresting, but the action that goes on around it makes it worth getting out of bed in the morning. This is a show so full of characters that it could run seasons. The employees all have stories, as do the patients. In many respects, it's a typical workplace, but then add the cannabis aspect to it, and it takes on a whole surreal, fuzzy quality.

It's a tradition at this dispensary to give employees a top shelf 1/8 of an ounce on their birthdays. For my birthday, I chose a nice hybrid called N'ice Cream. James the bud tender (not James the security guard) recommended it. I'm glad I asked him, because he showed me top shelf product that I didn't even know we had. It was even more top shelf than the top shelf I was aware of.  Smoked a bit of a joint of it with Loretta and Bake on the night of my birthday. It's long gone, and my next birthday is far away, so it's now a fond memory.

On my 90th day, a couple of days ago, Ernest, my supervisor, who is probably 26, asked me my name. He said he had me mixed up with Pam, but I think he wasn't going to remember my name until he knew I was staying. He said as much after I had worked a couple of weeks. He also said that, from this moment forward, my life was going to change drastically. He told me to get rid of all the spread sheets I have been working on since I started and make new ones. I have a whole new counting route. And I am to touch every piece of merchandise to make sure every sku# is accounted for.

I panicked for a moment, feeling the anxiety rise in my chest. So I went to lunch and processed his news. By the time I returned from lunch, I was calm, because it's all just counting. Funny thing, I've felt like I've been in a rut. It comes at a good time. It's amazing that I can stress about this job if I let myself. So I am not going to let myself.

The owner is having new floors installed. They're dark wood laminate and they look really nice. But they don't make up for the vermin problem, which is still there. Baby rats have been found. The Health Department came by today. Probably not a coincidence. I think we are on their radar. For good reason. I still won't use the restroom, so I have to come home for lunch. Today, something happened to the employee bathrooms and no one could use them.

It makes me laugh that I am happy at this place, after working in some really gorgeous spots. The winery in Rutherford was a sparkling clean castle, surrounded by vines, flowers, and vegetables. This place is in a not so good part of town. The other day, I almost walked on the carcass of a dead bird in the parking lot.

I am content. My co-workers are fun. The work is stress-free. I like the routine. I have a place to go, and I get paid money. It is a scene. Today I had words with a customer who was berating Onyx.

Shake Lady comes in three or four times a week, and complains loudly about everything. She always asks if we have "shake" and she is always told that that there won't be any shake for another three months. Today she was loudly complaining in the line about how disorganized everything was. The phone rang and Onyx picked it up, which, I agree with her, he shouldn't have done, but that's what our boss wants.

The bitch pointed at me and said, "she should answer the phone. She's nothing but stock." I looked at her and asked her if she wanted to come to work with us, because she was so organized. She snapped back that she went to school and got a degree so she didn't have to work in a stressful place like this. Luckily, it ended with her leaving and me not saying anything more, except to apologize to Onyx, who apologized to me for her disrespect.

Winter returns

Full moon, weird weather pattern over the past few days is making it feel like the middle of winter. I wore two sweat shirts at several points today because the a/c had been turned down to 63 degrees. Fingerless gloves were what I needed, as well. I am always grateful for my apartment, but especially on cold, wet nights like this. It's 54 degrees. I love it. And this weather is great for the cannabis business.

Today was really busy, from the minute we opened. People hurried in to get their supplies before the rain started. I was sure that once it started raining, the lines would die down. But that didn't happen. The lines were long, and the delivery drivers were busy all day.

Finally, I started receiving some of the swag that the vendors give out to get us to sell their stuff. Made out on medicated gummies. Today, I got an actual goodie bag filled with t-shirts which are too small for me to ever wear, and product, including CBD gummies and a vape cartridge.

Yesterday, as she was leaving, a woman yelled at the guard that she needed her medicine because of all these states taking away women's rights. I felt for her. That's what I feel like doing to random cashiers and security guards, snap them awake to what's happening. But that would be cruel.

That's why I like where I am. I have not heard one thing mentioned about current events or politics, except when Kyle, who was a poly-sci major, told me to be sure to vote in the participatory budgeting process that we have in Vallejo. Otherwise, the talk is of mundane matters, such as what is for lunch, where you're going for lunch, what edibles were eaten the night before, how someone "mistakenly" had a THC rich edible for breakfast, rats and bugs, how so many people are getting sick, and other normal work place conversation.

It's one of the highlights of being invisible, doing my job. The people I work with are so young that it is hard to not feel maternal. I've been here for two months, and I know that LJ's baby is due in October, Onyx bites his nails to the quick, and Jordan, a big, sturdy guy who seems so self assured is, as he put it, "deathly afraid of cancer and cataracts." That's why he likes cannabis. It quells the anxiety.

They know I am there, so it's not sneaky eavesdropping, but it's so funny to be so normalized that they don't stop talking when I am around. Much of the time, I am in my counting zone, mezmerized by all the different strains (today's new one: Jurassic Park   https://www.leafly.com/products/details/western-cultured-jurassic-ogk.  But I do hear my share of juice. I know stuff. I will end up knowing more, and wishing I didn't. As a matter of fact, the owner's assistant chatted with me about the vermin infestation. She told me it wasn't a new thing, which grossed me out even more.

She started at the place two months before I did, and the budtenders were bugging her to talk to Greg for them. I am so glad I know that back ground, as if I would ever get involved in another advocacy campaign regarding the health and safety of the place of my employment. Lori, my colleague, said she told them to take it a step at a time, and they didn't. In their defense, it's been going on for at least a year. It will be interesting to see how it all plays out. Will someone have to be infected with rabies for him to take this seriously?

Time Flies

It's been a while. I am still counting. Whenever it gets really boring, I remind myself that, boring is good. Boring is healing. In some ways, this job is a regular job in a regular business just like any other job I have every had. In other ways, this job is one of the most surreal experiences of my life.

Since everyone is so busy, no one trained me. Ernest said they needed a spread sheet, so I have been making and entering data into some really cool ones. That's what I do when I am not counting. Really, though, I am there as a deterrence. People will be less likely to steal if I am around. The owner has cameras everywhere and can see every transaction taking place. But it's always good to have on the floor supervision. Great, I'm the narc.

This week, I counted flower, concentrates, edibles, and flower again. Now it's my weekend. The only work I brought home was 1/8 oz of weed, as it is known among people my age.

There are quite a few of us who have May birthdays. Kaitlyn, a young mom and top seller, and I were talking the other day, and I mentioned that this birthday was going to be big one. She asked me which one, and I told her 60. No point in lying. All my info is on the computer.

Last week, a woman my age or a little older, saw me sitting and counting, and was all excited because an old person worked here. Yesterday, the same woman came in and told me she put her resume in for a job. She is so loud. And she called me old again.

A few posts ago, I said that there were many, many similarities between the wine and pot industries. The winery where I worked was located in north Napa, and the views were spectacular. The winery building itself was palatial, with a terrace overlooking the vineyards. Trash was taken out every evening, and the building was sparkling clean.

The offices I worked in were cleaned at night. Organization and efficiency ruled. That is not the way it is at the dispensary.

I like this job, but this is the filthiest, most disorganized place I've ever worked. There is clutter everywhere, and I have a high tolerance of chaos. This is worse. The back room is a place where I try to spend as little time as possible. It's where the offices are. It's dark and creepy, stuff piled everywhere.

Last Friday, Ernest had me sit at his desk and learn a data entry program, which was not hard. The hard part was that I was supposed to adjust prices and apply discounts from one item to others. It was stuff that Ernest has in his head. He tried to explain it to me at 4:00 on a Friday afternoon. It got very math-y, too, and my brain shut down. I was relieved that i didn't have to sit in the very tiny back corner of the office, closed in by boxes and containers.

Worse than this, though, is the bug and vermin problem. Before I even knew about it, I went home for lunch because i was reluctant to use the rest room at work, because it wasn't clean. Not only that, in order to get to the rest room, you have to go through the back, and several times in the past few weeks, large rats have surprised people on their way to the bathroom.

Then there are the bugs. the owner doesn't want to shell out for an exterminator, so he sent away for maggots, because he thinks they will kill the bugs. I gagged when I heard about that. Of course, it can always get worse, and it did.

When I got to work this morning, I asked David, the security guard who unlocked the door for me, if there had been any drama, since it was only 8:30 am. He was anxious to tell me about the dead, bloody rat in the main room that greeted him when he arrived. He was freaking out.

Two bud tenders walked right by it (occupational hazard). Once the gravity and gore of the situation sunk in, these badass guys to whom I will always be grateful, cleaned up the entire crime scene. Rob offered his theories on how the death happened, as he and Alex did what had to be done, including mopping and disposal, to make everything customer ready, or "retail pretty," as Ernest said the other day.

This made me want to leave. The union rep came to talk to the owner, who, according to the grapevine, doesn't care. OSHA did an inspection a few days ago, and I was sure they would shut us down or fine the owner, or something. The inspector said people would have to keep complaining.

Several of us have been bitten by something that causes an allergic reaction. Four people are out with bronchitis. And, most disgusting of all, this is not the first rat encounter. Every day last week there was at least one rat scurrying through the back, and they are bold creatures. Isn't this how the bubonic plague spread?

A new security guard started yesterday. His name is John. He listens to Frank Sinatra. Today I asked him if he is from New York. "From the Bronx," he said. My dad was from Yonkers. I felt him winking at me today.

420

Today is 4/20, a significant day for stoners. 420 has become an iconic symbol in the cannabis world. 4:20 is the time to smoke pot, just like happy hour is for alcohol. I have seen it used for years, and until I googled it today, I didn't know the origin. Maybe I did, and forgot. Occupational hazard.

San Rafael is a bedroom community to San Francisco, located in Marin County. In the 1970s, a group of high school guys called themselves the Waldos. Somehow they came into possession of a treasure map, from a friend who had buried a large amount of pot in the woods in Bolinas, near the beach.

Each afternoon, the boys would meet after sports practice, which ended at 4:20 pm., and embark on the hunt for the cannabis. During the school day, they'd remind each other in the halls of their quest, in code, saying 4:20, no one knew what they were up to.

It would be easy to blow this off, but they have all kinds of proof that they've kept in a safety deposit box. The group consists of five guys, grandfathers now, three of whom agreed to be interviewed publicly.

In the marijuana industry, 4/20 is Black Friday. When I started this job, I was informed that everyone works on 4/20. The deals are a great draw, plus it's all kinds of festive, like New Years Eve in Time Square.

I was dreading it, up until yesterday, when Yelli told me that they weren't going to inventory today. It was going to be a scene that would definitely harsh my mellow. Way too many people wanting really good deals. After working in retail on Christmas Eve one year, I vowed I would never do that again. And I didn't have to. I am probably the only cannabis industry employee who didn't have to work today and I am totally ok with that.

A Month In

It's been a month.

 I'm happy I'm still there. Counting is relaxing. On the stress scale, it is so far from the stress of being a teacher or working in Washington DC for yellers. I know what I am supposed to do, and I do it. The job is well defined. The metrics are clear. I show up and do what I am supposed to do.

When I go home, this job does not come with me, unlike teaching, where I would wake up at 3:00 am (a favorite time of insomnia for teachers) with thoughts of the most troubling child in my head. After teaching for many years, and having to think in 40 different directions through the day, it is gratifying focus on one thing. I am good at it. I needed it, not just for the money, but for the escape from the craziness of current events these days. Throughout the day, I rarely think of politics, which makes me feel so much calmer.

I work with interesting people, many of whom have done other really stressful career things, like me. James started when I started. He used to be a counselor for people undergoing gender reassignment surgery. He said as crazy as it can get, working at VHHC is a day at the beach. LJ worked the drive through at In-n-Out on weekend nights. Again, another day at the beach.

The amount of product is amazing, not to mention the continuous movement. Restocking and shelving goes on daily, and it boggles my mind how Sierra, the buyer, and Yelli, the manager, keep it all together.

This week, a woman about my age came in and was overwhelmed by what greeted her when she entered. It was her first time in a dispensary, after years of illegal cannabis consumption. She full out cried. I gave her a hug, because I remembered my first time, as did several other customers. She couldn't believe how easy it all was.

My first visit to a dispensary was in Colorado. I googled dispensaries in Fort Collins, and my GPS took me to an anonymous industrial park strip mall. It felt like walking into a conventional doctor's office waiting room, except for the floor-to-ceiling windows looking into a huge crop of growing cannabis plants. I sat in the waiting room, waiting to be called into the actual shop, like I was waiting for the dentist. I bought flower, an indica and sativa. Each came in a prescription bottle, and was put in a stapled bag.

Walking outside, I felt like the cops were going to get me, until I remembered how legal it all was. It felt so liberating. I stopped at dispensaries in Vancouver, Washington, and in Portland, Oregon. In the interest of seeing the different interpretations of cannabis shops, I bought a joint or two in each place.

In Vancouver, where I was visiting Jane, a jewelry store had been rehabbed into a chic, all white boutique, where the cannabis was displayed in the jewel cases, and on shelves in glass bottles. Again, I bought a joint. We crossed the street and went to a funky tea room, the walls covered in framed mirrors, for lunch. Later, we smoked the joint in her garden, as the sun was going down.

I drove most of the night to get to Portland from Astonia, a beach town far away from Portland. I thought I would be able to find a place to eat and sleep, but since it was October, the place was shut down and deserted. After a harrowing several hour ride, I stopped at a coffee shop to recover from a stormy night on one lane roads. One of the presidential debates was that night, and the politically themed shop was having a watch party later.

I googled another shop called Vertigo, and, once again, let my GPS guide me. In its previous life, the space had been a saloon. It still had that whiskey and cigar feel, as well as a great name.

When I got to Vallejo, I got myself a medical marijuana card and went immediately to the place where I now work. I felt just like the woman this morning, but I wasn't quite as emotional.

It is a big thing for people in our generation to walk into a pot super market. When we were coming up, we could never imagine it even being legal. Not only is it now legal, it is a booming business.

For most of my life, using cannabis has been illegal and forbidden, which added a certain cachet to it. Now it's legal and above board, and the San Francisco has a cannabis section in its Sunday paper, as well as a wine section.

Notre Dame Burned Today

The Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris burned today. The spire crumbled. the nave was saved. 900 years worth of history in danger of being totally obliterated. Reports say that treasures were saved, with many not being stored in the Cathedral due to renovation, which is what is thought to have caused the fire. How would you like to be the guy who started the fire?  Of course, the president tweeted something boorish to the French, comparable to telling Californians to rake their forests during the wild fires. He is such a pig. And a dangerous one.

A Month In

Just finished my fourth week at the dispensary.

My body is adjusting, and so is my mind.

At first, I never thought I could just count all day long. Now, though, I have my counting routines, and I have a rhythm, so the day moves along. I've graduated from counting just flower. Now I count concentrates and edibles, a mind expanding experience.

There is so much I still don't know about cannabis. I'm definitely in the right place to learn. I asked one of my younger co-workers today if anyone still smokes herb, and he laughed and said he hadn't since 2012. It's total culture shock to someone like me who smoked weed and indulged in home made hash brownies. There are so many ways other than actually smoking to consume cannabis. The thing that caught my eye was the Dabbalator. It looks like a pen and it burns concentrate. This article explains dabbing. It comes from Leafly, a great reference for all things cannabis.

https://www.leafly.com/news/cannabis-101/what-are-cannabis-dabs-and-benefits-of-dabbing-marijuana

Then there are the edibles. There are gummies, cookies, rice crispy treats, butter, honey, chocolate, cold brew coffee, infused wine, mints, sodas, lollipops and so much more.

My neck is sore because it is bent over for at least six hours a day. I use the tincture I bought on pay day at bedtime, and it helps.

At the end of last week, I was exhausted. This week, I am better. But I do spend most of my time hunched over, counting. I get so engrossed and don't pay attention to all that is going on around me. My job is not stressful, and, not only do I get paid, but my Twitter habit has subsided. The world is careening out of control, and my haven is my job. When I do check it, I am sorry I did. It still pulls me in.

Pay Day

Today was pay day. I got paid in cash, although everything was withheld, just like in any other business. It feels weird to be walking around with 800.00 in cash until I can deposit it.

I keep counting. It is the perfect job for me, considering all of the brain frying jobs I have had in my career. I show up and do what I am told, and I count. I don't have to deal with irritable customers or colleagues, although I haven't met any of those. 

Twitter is really not holding my interest at all. I have no idea what is going on in the world at the moment. After work, I went to Loretta's, and she and Bake fed me dinner. Cauliflower soup and Caesar salad, with One House Bakery break. Bake came in the store today.

I purchased a cartridge and a tincture today for my pain. Wedding Cake is the cartridge and it's a 50/50 hybrid, meaning that it's an equal blend of indica and sativa. I can taste the cake. I just took a few drops of the tincture. I am in so much pain, and I really need to sleep tonight. My left hip, groin, and right shoulder are all extremely troublesome tonight. I am really hoping this tincture works. It's part CBD and part THC. 

We finished Game of Thrones, and now have to wait until April 14 to see the first episode of season 8. No binging on this one. We have to wait from week to week. I don't know how the people who watched it in real time could wait between episodes, let alone seasons. 

Yesterday, I met Jane Vanvig in the city. Her sister and brother-in-law live in the Sunset, so I drove in and we went to lunch. Her brother-in-law just had his 4th brain surgery, so she is here, helping her sister. Jane and I go way back, to the time when I worked in law and lobbying firms in DC, so she can appreciate how far I have come working in a dispensary. 

Day 9

My supervisor is in his late 20s. He is serious. But he's told me twice that i am doing a good job. I am so glad I have a supervisor. I thought I was supposed to come up with an inventory system on my own. He also told me that he didn't speak to me until now, because he wanted to make sure I was staying. Apparently the inventory job is not a popular one. I can see why, but for me, after years of working brain frying jobs, I need a job just counting. It is healing my poor, frazzled teacher's brain.

I like working here. it's close to home. one of the hardest things about working at the winery was the drive. My body hurt because I was driving an hour each way. It takes me maybe four minutes to drive from my house to my work.

The work itself is pleasantly boring. I am behind the counter, so I hear the budtenders and the customers all day. I am an observer.

People are nice to me. One of the security guards told me that the owner can be abusive to his staff, even making them cry. Just what I need. Maybe I am here to avenge myself against all of the yelling bosses i have had. seriously dude? I am counting shit. you cannot make me cry.

I am so happy to be out of the house and off of twitter. My body still aches, especially my left hip, but I am feeling better than I felt last week at this time. It is good to be needed, and to interact with young, vibrant humans. They are really fun.

So Ready for the Weekend

I managed to work five full days despite the fact that my body was screaming from all the bending and standing I did this past week. When Saturday night finally came, I was so excited to go home and rest. All I could think about was the hot tub at the pool and how soothing it would be to soak.  I did that yesterday, after tossing and turning all night, trying to find a part of my body that didn't hurt.

When I was crossing the country, I stopped at the Badlands, in South Dakota. I was shocked at how out of this world the terrain was. I had never seen anything like the formations made by nature. How did the pioneers get across this part of the country? It was treacherous enough in a car.

As I pulled into a nearly isolated parking lot close to an overlook, I noticed another car, the same make, model, and color as mine, with Florida plates, just like mine. How weird. I walked toward the overlook, asking everyone back if they were from Florida.

Finally, a group of young people with dreadlocks and diamonds in their noses, approached. A young woman said they were from Winter Park, which is less than two hours from Vero Beach. They were doing a last ditch around the country road trip before they headed to Mendocino for harvest, where they were trimmers. I gave her my card and told her to call me if there was a job for me. I never heard from her, and I here I am with a job in the cannabis business.

It's a good thing I did, because if I was home alone all day with nothing but Twitter, I'd be crazy. Actually, I was. But even more now. Mueller's report was given to the Attorney General, who distributed a report written by him, saying the president was exonerated. Trump is gleeful today, although none of the republicans want to release Mueller's actual report. If the president is totally exonerated, then let's see the report.

This stuff is also driving me crazy. Work is a respite from the craziness of the world today. There is so much going on in this store. You would think that working in a weed store would be a laid back experience. You would be wrong. This is one of the most intense places I have ever worked. Yet, it doesn't look that way to the patients. It really is like Disney World, in that it's theater, not letting the customer see the reality, the characters without their costumes.

I have now counted 300 bins full of flower three times. I am out in the open, listening to the bud tenders, who have an incredibly stressful, physical job. There is usually a long line to get to a bud tender, but it moves fast. Many people on that line are suffering from chronic pain, anxiety, and depression, among other things. It is hard enough to get up and out. Having to stand in line, in a place where it is easy to become over stimulated and overwhelmed, is agony for people with sensory issues. First time visitors are apprehensive about asking questions and looking stupid. Most customers are happy to be there, and are a delight to deal with. But there have been a few, just in the short time I have been there, who made me want to jump over the counter and wring their necks.

On Saturday, I was eavesdropping while I was counting. A woman of my age was with her husband, and approached the bud tender, already confused. The first time is confusing, especially at this store. You have to go through security, show your id, pass by different vendors, who are giving away freebies. There's the line, the music, the lighting, so it makes it hard to see a method to the madness.

The woman kept asking the bud tender if the people behind the counter were all separate vendors, where she had to go for different things. The young man tried to explain that everyone behind the counter was selling the same things and he could find her whatever she needed. She wouldn't listen, and kept talking over him. She pestered him about whether the stuff really worked or if he was just selling her a bill of goods. She also wanted to know if this is where she could get the best price. Would it make her crazy? He remained calm, as her husband said, "Ok, now you're just being weird. I'll be in the car." She calmed down after that, but not much.

When she left, I told the guy how impressive his patience was. He was philosophical, and said that she was exactly the person who needed our product and would be a good customer.

That is just the front of the house. There's the back of the house, where it's even more intense. That's where the security cameras are. The deliveries from vendors come through the back. And deliveries arrive all the time, because there is so much product moving. The flower is fresh, which is great for the consumer, but difficult for the inventory person. Everything is counted on the way in and the way out. It's also counted while it's in the case. The state of California says 97% of product must be accounted for in every shop. So things have to be precise and buttoned down. It is a cash business so accounting and inventory is even more important.

The vibe is what makes it far different than any job I have ever had, especially the jobs I had in DC. It is intense, but the people seem kind. It is a pleasure to watch the bud tenders interact with their clients. They are so knowledgeable. Vendors train them about their products, including giving goodie bags (which are locked in the safe and taken home at the end of the day), so that they'll know how they'll feel. Research. All part of the job.

Everyone is under thirty, which is a good thing, because these bud tenders run up and back behind the counter looking for a product for a patient hundreds of times a day. The others are running up and down, getting down on the ground, refilling the bins and shelves. They inspire me. The place is buzzing with energy. You cannot be medicated and do these jobs.

Swimming really helped me feel better when I woke up this morning. The secret is to keep moving. My goal is to breeze through the count, day by day, with something left over for life outside of work. I was in a healthy groove when I was substituting in October. My vim and vigor can't have gone too far. Richard said to give it 30 days before I decided that the job is too physically demanding for me. He said our bodies are stronger than we realize. It's our brains that lie and say we're weak. He knows.

We watched Game of Thrones again last night. Richard made pasta with a light pesto-y sauce and shrimp. Gregory made tomatoes, feta, and vinegar. We are almost finished with season 6, with a night off tonight. We have plenty of time until April 14th, when the new season begins.

Day 2

I tried to tell myself that this job wasn't as physical as working as a teacher, or in a winery. The teaching was definitely not easier. It was a marathon compared to this. It was like doing this job and wrangling 18 third graders for 6.5 hours a day.

As demanding on my body as this is, and I know (I just know) that I am going to get stronger every day. it is so worth it. All day long, there is so much going on. It is amazing that these people can keep their shit together when a line is backing out the front door.

Not only do they keep their shit together, but they are sincere. Imagine looking into the faces of people who are filled with anxiety, or whose depression makes it nearly impossible to get here. These young people are so empathetic. And if I repeat myself, from post to post, too bad.

My job is monotonous, but very necessary. Accuracy and focus are the most important qualifications for this job. That's hard to find in many cannabis workers, for obvious reasons. Today, a customer referred to us as Costco, but for cannabis. I am going to recommend we get scanners and computerize the inventory system. I can't believe they haven't done it already.

People who visited the winery were so happy to be there that there were rarely unpleasant encounters between guests and winery employees. The same is true at the dispensary. Most people are fun and polite. The first timers are bashful about the whole thing, and in total disbelief that this is actually legal.

The seasoned patients come in, knowing THC/CBD ratios, the percentage of THC in product, and that they have a high threshold, so please take that into consideration. I thought I was the only one.

Last night, I went to bed early, and in painful exhaustion. This morning, I woke up, ready to go back. Don't get me wrong. I am definitely ready for bed at 5:00, when work is over. I've been up since 6, on my own volition. I don't get into the shower until 8:55, and I was still early, not like when I was teaching (a whole other blog yet to be published).

After work, I stopped at the cash machine and then the grocery store. Gregory invited me over to watch Bohemian Rhapsody. I came home inspired, and so happy I didn't say no. As hard as this job is, it is still easier than teaching. If I was teaching, I'd be expected to do the job I am doing, which is hard enough, but to also actually teach.

I counted some more and entered numbers into the computer. My butt wiped up the entire floor under the cash registers. This is yoga, and I am better for it.  I am also better for having given up Rachel and half of Lawrence tonight, although I do feel happier. Sometimes (most times) I kill my own buzz. When I am trying to kill a buzz, all I have to do, like Uncle Albert in Mary Poppins, is think dark thoughts, like how certain family members have screwed me over. That's how I know I am in a dark, dangerous neighborhood, and I have to back that car right out of that cul-de-sac right now.

Back to counting. My goodness, but there are so many strain names. They make me laugh. There must be thousands, and the names tell you the cloning history. OG TITS; Birthday Cake; Sour Diesel; Jack Herer; Black Jack; Banana Jack; Mint Chip; Just put words together and there's your fourth generation strain. You can name a strain after yourself. It's like naming an undiscovered planet after yourself. Or name it anything you want. You've made up a new strain.

At the end of the day, I tried to explain to Yelli what I did all day, but I was in a daze, and she had a lot on her mind. Greg, the owner, tried explain about the inventory process, and i tried to absorb it, but we're going to have to talk about that again. or maybe not. he said that one employee stole $2000 in merchandise and was caught on camera, but there wasn't enough proof even though his count was always screwed up. Greg said I should think about all the different ways people could steal. I laughed and said I couldn't wrap my head around that. He told me that was because I am honest. I am. But I think he might have inferred this from my resume.

When I got my job at the winery, I thought that my alcohol consumption would go up. But the opposite happened. We couldn't drink during working hours, and I learned to appreciate the vocabulary and the ritual. The same is true at the dispensary, although you would never know it by the vibe of the place. My cannabis has definitely decreased in the past two days. As Martha would say, "That's a good thing."

First Day

First day at the dispensary. I woke up excited. Got to work and started counting. There is a lot to count. The people were friendly. The corporate culture is laid back, of course. It is physically demanding for me, but I just have to get strong. I want to stay there. The budtenders are young and cute, but there are people in my generation working there, too.

I met a nice woman named Pamela, who the owner thought was me. Understandable since we are both tall and blonde. And the music is great, lots of it from my era. The younger people surprise me, because they get so into it. Lots of singing along and dancing. They work their asses off, all with great customer service. My type of work place. Such a major shift from my time as an executive assistant to huge egos in Washington, DC. As physical as the work is, it is still easier than teaching.

I counted until noon and then went back through what I counted, recording the count on a sheet. I finished that at 3:30. Then I entered those numbers onto a spread sheet and finished at 5:30. There wasn't much training, but when I had a question, I just asked. No one rolled their eyes.

I got so into the counting and didn't look at my phone until 12:30. Suddenly it was 2:30 and I understood why I was getting faint with hunger. And then it was 4:30. The day flew by. That says something. Dress is very casual, which is fine with me, because I spent much of the day on my ass on the floor. Comfortable shoes are a must. Again, so different than my jobs in DC.
When I worked at the winery, I thought of how Napa was like Disneyland for grown ups. It's all a show. Same with the dispensary. It is weird to see the back room, behind the scenes.

Cannabis is so different than the pot that people my age smoked. It is like viticulture, with all kinds of species and genus. It is definitely stronger, and there are so many ways now to ingest it. You can smoke flower, vape oil, rub balm on your skin, eat and drink it. And there are so many forms - flower, oils, shatter, dab, lotion, capsules, sodas, beer, candy, tinctures, wine, tea, and so many others.

The best thing is that I stayed off of social media all day, except for 30 minutes at lunch, but I was distracted by eating my cheese sandwich. But now, I must listen to Rachel and Lawrence, so I can harsh on my own buzz.

I told my Aunt Lulu about my job. Again, I thought she'd be shocked. But she always surprises me. Cannabis is legal in Massachusetts, and there are three dispensaries on Cape Cod. She said she sees the lines out the door. As far as usage, she said she didn't mind the people who use it medically, but then there were the other people who ruined it by overdoing it and getting into car accidents. I know what I am sending my aunts for Christmas (CBD balm and tinctures). Those will get them happily through the Cape Cod winters.

Neither was she shocked when I told her that my goal is to be a cannabis consultant for people my age. Since cannabis has gone so mainstream, people of my generation who either have never used cannabis, or who haven't used it since the seventies, are curious about the whole idea.  Especially attractive are the therapeutic effects physically and mentally. There's some science-y stuff on it.

http://www.vhhc420.org/cannabinoids.

Older people, at least, I, as an older person, feel more comfortable talking to someone who looks like them, and who understands. first hand, the mature human experience. Since I have knowledge, both book and first hand, I can guide you through the process of buying and using the product. The industry is so specialized that you can personalize your purchase, so that you make sure you can gain the most benefits from this amazing plant.

There are so many delivery methods. The dosage is on every bag of weed, cartridge, or balm that you buy. My generation never knew whether they were smoking and indica or a sativa, which are two totally different experiences. In a nutshell, an indica strain will be more mellow and calming, but may also lead to couch lock. Some people need to chill, and this is ideal. Sativa is more cerebral, and offers and energetic experience. It's great for doing creative things, or for cleaning your house. The down side is that it can lead to paranoia and anxiety, depending on the percentage of THC.

This is just the tip of the ice berg.

New Job

Long before I ever made my way west, I was a devotee of cannabis. I suffer from chronic pain, and the relief that cannabis brings me is miraculous. It is better than any opioid I have ever taken. With my health history, I've taken many high strength pain relievers. Cannabis is different.

The cannabis industry is in its infancy. Not for long, though. Since it's been legalized for medical use in 33 states, and for recreational use in 10 states, the use of cannabis has become mainstream. I have wanted to experience what it was like during the gold rush. This business is a great place to start. My dream is to become a cannabis consultant to all the boomers trying it for the first time. 

The pot business is very similar to the wine business. both are plants, the same vocabulary is used to describe the quality; they're both social, best enjoyed with good people; great histories; 

Because of my passion for, as well as my desire to learn more about cannabis, I am so thrilled I've gotten a job in a dispensary. Actually, it's my dispensary, they were hiring, and I applied. I start on Tuesday. VHHC is located in a few different locations, and it's a union shop. Business is business. 

I'm really excited because I needed a job. To be able to work in an industry that interests me is thrilling. It will be nice to be around people, away from my living quarters. I am losing my social skills. 

The owner asked if I would be interested in doing inventory and I said I'd do just about anything to work where my favorite products are sold. He commented on my resume being very organized and said because of my teaching and strategic communications experience, he wants me to train people. It was vague and I was excited. 

And now I really will have writing material. 

It's the eve of Saint Patrick's Day, so that means dinner at the Slaydon's. Doug grills corned beef and it's unlike anything I have ever tasted. The beef is smoky, like tender beef jerky, and Ann makes a purple and white cabbage salad with the most amazing dressing, along with boiled potatoes. Tonight, Aunt Jean turned me on the horseradish on corned beef - to die for. 

The first year I had dinner at the Slaydons', I was too self-conscious to take more than one piece. Three years later, I probably ate seven pieces at dinner, and took fourteen pieces home. I didn't take home the wonderful wine they serve, but i did take home a shamrock plant. Last year, Ann and Doug gave out plants, and I kept mine alive for almost a whole year, until the rains came, about three weeks ago. 

My Aunt Jean told me about her trip to the dispensary in Vacaville this week. She went with a friend and purchased CBD ointment for her and Uncle Vince. They said they feel better already. I was concerned about telling her I was going to work in a dispensary. 

Because of the good wine and the amazing meal, I am pleasantly drowsy and hiccoughing my way to bed. 

Yesterday, I got a job at a local cannabis dispensary. It is something I have wanted to do, even before getting out here. The cannabis business is growing rapidly, and I’ve wanted to learn all aspects of growing and selling cannabis.

Today, I am laughing at my luck. Maybe this is why I haven’t been getting other jobs or passing the math test. Maybe I am finally following the path that I want to follow. All I know is that I am passionate about cannabis the way other people are about wine. There are many similarities in the pot business and the wine business, now that cannabis is legal in so many states. The way that language is used to describe both; The ritual; The history; the science.

The place is a little over a mile from where I live, so, theoretically, I can walk. It’s the first dispensary that I registered with as a medical patient. The business is growing, and the owner is hiring for many positions. He hired me for inventory and training. This will be interesting. Inventory is basically counting and I can do that, without having to take a math test. Plus, there’s no drug testing involved. It is a union shop, and the job is full-time, with benefits. The salary is low to start, with a raise in a few months. I hope I can handle the schedule. I hope I like it. I hope they like me.

My mood has improved immensely, knowing I have a place to go where I am paid.

Maintaining a blog is more difficult than it looks, at least for me. I keep forgetting to post. Make that, I keep forgetting to write. Sometimes I don't forget. I just don't write. Here is the rule of blogging. "First you write, than you post."  That's it. Today, I think I will actually follow the rule.

A writer friend of mine said often that good writing was a matter of hours of "butt in seat time." She thought that once your butt was in the seat, everything would flow out onto the paper. That has not been my experience. Hours of butt-in seat-time" does not guarantee product, thanks to all the distractions that keep me from writing that post.

Richard, Gregory, and I are still watching Game of Thrones. It is enthralling. We average three episodes in an evening. Tonight we will watch Season 4, episode 2. I am being very disciplined about not reading what happens on-line. Finding out in the moment is the thrill. Yesterday, I did sneak a peak and found out about the deaths of a few critical characters. Richard told me last night that it was the red wedding. I thought it would be redder., like the ending of "Carrie."

I fear that I am becoming immune to the violence, and then something happens in the story line to make me realize that I am still squeamish and shockable.

The watching ritual is comforting. I ring the bell; barking dogs swarm over me like they've never seen me before. Richard brings an ice bucket and a bottle of wine downstairs into what used to be the bedroom in which the twins grew up, and is now the screening room. Everyone settles into their favorite spot, including the dogs, and then we watch, mesmerized for at least three hours.  Last night, Gregory served refreshing pineapple popsicles during an especially bloody scene.

It's not just the blood that is so horrifying. It is the way people treat each other. The character development is amazing. Each actor fully occupies who they are playing. I have my favorites, but Kate said not to get too committed to anyone, because everyone has a short shelf life. That was good advice. I hope King Joffrey gets what is coming to him. He is the most vile character in the whole thing, and that is saying a lot. Also, I have to keep telling myself that it is only make believe. But it is excellent make believe.

All I can say is that I am glad that I didn't live in that time. I am a wimp. Things I could never go without:

- bathing;
- brushing my teeth;
- modern plumbing;
- electricity;
- my phone.

Watching GOT motivates me to get in the swim and shower every day. There is as much filth as there is blood, and I crave feeling clean. Also, I want to find out what happens. Not today, Death. Not today.

In other news, and there is so much other news, the Chinese woman who started the spas in south Florida where Robert Kraft had his fun on the morning of the Super Bowl, was not only watching the Super Bowl with the President, she is selling access to the President.

The people of Alabama were graced with the President's arrival a few days ago. Trump had the nerve to autograph bibles on the FRONT COVER.

There are a few reassurring things happening. The democrats are subpoening everybody. But it doesn't seem to be happening quickly enough.

Rainy Saturday, unhinged president - what else is new? I have been watching Game of Thrones at Richard's. We're almost at the end of season 2. It is riveting. Three episodes go by in a flash. The whole thing - costumes, location, cinematography, writing, acting - is so fabulous that I can't think of anything else when I am watching it. The new season is coming out in April, so Richard wants us to be caught up. That's my therapy these days, wine and GOT.

Kate is up from LA. Yesterday, I picked her up from the ferry and we went to Napa for lunch at Grace's Table. We ate the most amazing corn bread with lavender butter. For entrees, she had gnocchi with a cream sauce and peas, and I had a french dip. We split a piece of  moist fudgy chocolate cake, and sparkling wine.

Blinders

 "Harrowing" is a favorite of mine, because it reminds me of traveling through the US with not much money and fewer plans. There were times on the road when I wasn't sure I would survive whatever experience it was that i was having. One of the most harrowing times on my adventure was in Wyoming, driving through the Tetons. Being from Florida, a very flat state, much of it underwater, I was shocked by the terrain of this country. I had not experienced hills in 20 years.

Going west over the mountains was one of the most frightening things I have ever done. "How big could they be," I thought. "They aren't that big on the map." This was just one of many things that I underestimated when I undertook this adventure. The Tetons are big. Huge in a way that I had never understood the word before. Before this trip, I had no idea that I feared heights. The Tetons were where I found this out about myself. All I could do, as I drove down the narrow two lane switchbacks, was not take my eyes off the road. Because of the altitude, it was difficult to breathe. It felt like a poodle sitting on my chest. My head hurt, and I felt nauseous.

Mercifully and miraculously, hanging off a crevice in the middle of these mountains was a coffee shop. I thought it was a mirage. I pulled into a parking space and tried not to look down past the stone wall separating me from the whatever is at the bottom of 7,000+ ft. The warm scent of fresh baked cookies hit my nose as I walked in to the tiny cafe. The nice woman behind the counter knew the haunted look on my face, and helped me to figure out where I was and what i wanted.  She brought me some coffee and some cookies. She said people always came in looking like me. As I was leaving, she handed me an empty paper bag for my ride. I thought it was for trash.

I sat for a while, trying to attain some equilibrium. My ears were ringing and I felt the vertigo was coming back.  I made it out to my car to continue the drive, but I was still in panicked mode and hyperventilating. I didn't know how I was going to make it down and then up again and then down again many times before making it through the massive peaks.

In situations like this, my Aunt Lulu is just the person to call. She is practical and someone you would want to sit next to in the life boat. She mothered five children and worked as the town clerk on Cape Cod. Her vision is clear and strong. She doesn't belabor or bemoan. She is unflappable.

"Hi Claudia," she said. "Are you calling from jail?"

I told her where i was and that i couldn't keep going. I was hyperventilating, because I was crying and scared. I noticed the bag on the passenger seat and started to breathe in and out, as Lulu spoke slow and calm.

" Turn on the car" Lulu told me. "Get out of the parking lot and I will get you down." And she did.

Many years ago, when she and my Uncle Ed took their kids on a cross country trip, they were going through mountains like the Tetons. Ed was driving, and suddenly, at the top of a mountain, he panicked and thought he couldn't get down. He was cold and clammy, feeling like I felt. So Lulu quieted the kids, and calmly talked Ed down from the ledge. He also had no idea that he was scared of heights until he was at the peak, with a car full of young children, and a camper attached. They made it through to California and continued on their cross country RV trip.

She told Ed what she told me. "Breathe. Go slowly but don't stop. Keep your eyes on the rear bumper of the car in front of you. You have to put blinders on."

That advice got me through the mountains, and through all kinds of other disorienting experiences once I got to California. When these things happen, and I think I am losing my nerve, I hear Lulu's voice in my head, calmly telling me to focus on just what is in front of me. I put the blinders on and talk myself down from whatever ledge I am on. It's worked so far.

Since that time at 7,000+ feet, I have driven many hilly roads. I drove through the hills overlooking over Palo Alto. Driving through the hills of Napa and Sonoma is a hobby. Recently, I drove up Mt. Diablo, and almost didn't make it down. I walked around at the top of the nearly 4,000 ft alt mountain, until I had my wits about me. When I did, I pictured Lulu in my mind, and heard her voice coaching me back down. It is much easier on the way down than it is on the way up.

Grey chilly morning. The rain just started. That dashes my idea of a morning walk.

The Bakers had us over to watch the Oscars. One of the advantages of living in California is that events like the Oscars and the Super Bowl are over by 8:30 pm.  The red carpet and ceremonies were secondary to being with fun people. The food was amazing as usual. Gregory brought Asian pork. Bake made meatballs and Iranian potatoes. Sally brought something that looked like large pea pods that were dipped in aoili sauce. Loretta made the most decadent chocolate cake and Monica and Raoul brought ice cream.

Most of us hadn't seen many of the movies. I've only seen "Mary Poppins." We also didn't know who many of the people were, a sign of getting old for sure. But it is fun to watch the glamour and the gowns.

It is just afternoon, and I am making red beans and rice, trying to stay off of Twitter. After some lunch, I am going for a walk outside in the fresh air.

Current event wise, there are a whole lot of stupid stories going around about Amy Klobuchar being an awful boss. It's funny that merits coverage when Trump is in the White House.

Then we have the NRA putting out a magazine with a picture of Nancy Pelosi and Gabby Giffords and the caption says "target practice."

The sex trafficking story and Jussie Smollet story have been bumped by R Kelly's indictment.

And this is only a few newsworthy items. I just can't catalogue Trump's idiocy today.

For many years, before I lived in California, I lived in a fairly small east coast town in Florida. Life was idyllic, and the gorgeous weather drew tourists from all over the world. Vero Beach is a gracious town, like a prim southern belle. Spanish moss drip from the old oaks that provide shade from the warm sun.

California is just about as far away from Vero, geographically, and in so many other ways. Vallejo is completely the opposite of Vero and that is why I ended up here. Not that I don't miss Vero and the amazing friends who got me through so many trying times, but missing something doesn't mean I have to go back.

In the three years I’ve lived in California, I have been living in a dream state,  In California, there is more to life than grinding work and consumption. After living at sea level for fifteen years, I am dazzled by the hills. I drive on windy, hilly roads, finally understanding what inspired the grateful dead. The landscape here is psychedelic. I’ve seen produce here that i have never seen before - yellow raspberries; brussel sprouts on the stalk; jackfruit in Chinatown; twenty-seven different kinds of beets at the Berkeley Bowl.

The place I came from is very conservative in every way. Of course politics is the obvious topic. But there are other ways

This list is pretty comprehensive:

VERO	vs	VALLEJO
Save the Lagoon		No Orcem
Art Trail		Art Cars
Elite		Hoi Polloi
Cocktail Parties		House Concerts
Oranges		Lemons
Beef		Grapes
Pubs		Dispensaries
Manicured		Free Range
Neat		Messy
Conservative		Progressive
Republican		Democrat
Trump		Sanders
Sports Bars		Wine Bars
Starbucks		Moschetti
Tear down		Renovate
Flamingoes		Turkeys
Uptight		Relaxed
Window Shopping		Window Art
Beach		Bay
Swamp		Hills
Homogeneous		Heterogeneous
Uniform		Diverse
Hibiscus		Lotus

Here is today's craziness. The owner of the Patriots, a friend of Trump's, was arrested for solicitation of prostitutes in a massage parlor. In Vero Beach, an hour or so away, 165 men were arrested in a sting for the same thing, some whom I know. A parent of two of my former students, as well as the guy who bought my parents' house were caught in the sting. There were several other stings across Florida. The stings uncovered human trafficking rings, mostly from China.

This is all happening as Trump's friend, Jeffery Epstein, is back in the news. He likes very young girls and was given a light sentence by one of Trump's cabinet members, Alex Acosta, who was the prosecutor in the case and covered the whole thing up. Talk about misusing your position.

I cannot believe I am typing these words and it is only 1:12 pm PST.

10:06 pm

I took time off from Twitter. I actually cleaned and wrote and showered. Loretta, my friend who doesn't allow current event conversation, came over. As usual, our conversation wandered easily through an array of subjects, seemingly unconnected to each other, but interesting nonetheless. She stayed nearly three hours, and we drank ginger lemon tea with honey. Having her over is a huge accomplishment because before my place was spruced up, I never invited her over.

After that, I spent 30 minutes on Twitter before going over to Richard's house to watch Game of Thrones. I am probably the last person on the planet to watch it, and now I am totally addicted. It is an escape from the craziness in the world today, but relevant to all the craziness going on the world today.

Richard made dinner. Since he is a chef, dinner at his place is like eating in a fine restaurant, with four loving dogs as decoration. Tonight he served pork tenderloin with sweet potatoes topped with sour cream, and amazing greens with bacon. I will eat more greens now that I've tasted Richard's greens. Everything's better with bacon. And red wine in big glasses that really stood up to the greens. For dessert, Richard made chocolate chip cookies. I have had thousands of ridiculously good chocolate chip cookies. Richard's are, hands down, the best. They're on the soft side but not too soft. On the first bite, there's the carmelization of the brown sugar and butter. The chips are actually chunks that melt on the tongue.

After dinner, we retired to the tv room and watched three episodes. I cannot remember which ones, but apparently we're still in the first season, right when Daenerys finds out she's the dragon mother. I just got home and am so proud of myself for sitting down and writing first, before anything else. That's different.

Anyway, I am addicted to GOT. Kate told me that I would never be lonely as long as I was into it, because there are thousands of episodes that go on forever. I just found out there is a whole industry devoted just to Game of Thrones merchandise. I must not google it.

I am in a tight spot. But all I have to remember is that I have been in tighter ones, and I have escaped. I'm pinching pennies at the moment, literally rolling change, being unemployed and all. I was down to less than half a roll of toilet paper. I was going to get some from Nancy and Chris, and then I started cleaning. In the cabinet under the bathroom sink, way, way in the back, were two rolls I didn't even know were there. Talk about manifesting. I told Richard this tonight and he said, "Oh I have so much that you can have. I don't use it now that I have a bidet." I have to aim higher.

Regarding tighter spots, there were some really tight spots on my journey, but probably none worse than Canada. Whenever I think I can't go without something like food or coffee, I remember the six days I spent in a small town on the west side of the Prince Edward Island Bridge. The reasons why I ended up there are many, and I won't get into to them now. But I ended up there for six days, with no cash, no gas, and a dead battery.

I did have my quilt, some pillows, notebook, pen, a few books and magazines, my phone, a thermos, clean water, and sanitary restrooms just feet from my car, where I slept, waiting for checks to clear.

Each day, I would have a melt down for fifteen minutes or so. Then I would snap myself out of my funk by reminding me that I wanted the adventure and prayed for something to write about it. It was like an ashram, spa, writers' workshop all in one. Nothing stood between me and writing. There was nothing else to do. Days are long when you're waiting for money. So I wrote. When I read what I wrote while I was stranded, I see that I did some good writing. I had no distractions.

Right now, it feels a little like that time, but it isn't, because I have a roof over my head and family/friends around me. I have been in tight spots before and grace has prevailed. Why would that cease?

Now to bed with a good book that I got from the library yesterday. Instead of giving something up, I am going to put something pleasurable in it's place.

Home

Kindness is a gesture extended with nothing asked in return. At this time of year, I count my blessings. I am grateful for many people have done kind things for me throughout my life. With the world in such a depressing state, kindness is the key to remaining sane and upright. Recently, I was the beneficiary of a true labor of love and kindness. In my life, I have been blessed with guardian angels. Ann and Nancy are my angels this Christmas.

When I first arrived in California, I planned on visiting my cousin, Chris, and his wife, Nancy for no more than three days. I stayed with Chris and Nancy for eight months, even going through a six-week kitchen redo before finding a very small basement apartment. This being the Bay Area, I am grateful to live here for what I pay.

The challenges of living in a small apartment are similar to living on a houseboat. With its 6’5” ceilings, especially in the winter, when the sun sets at 4:45 pm, the dirty white walls closed in even more on wet, black nights. i have depression, so I haven’t had the energy or the desire to make this place home. Sad energy permeated the apartment.

After living here for three years, I was not looking forward to another winter, and was telling Nancy this. She and her twin sister, Ann, have superb decorating skills, and I hoped they would give me some suggestions on how to make my environment warm and hospitable.

They came over one afternoon, with tape measures, and looked around. They asked me what my favorite colors were, demanded my keys, and told me to trust them.

Ten days later, i walked in and I cried, like all those lucky people on the decorating shows on tv.

The walls were painted a pale blue grey. There was a new turquoise loveseat and a beige reading chair. There was a wood coffee table.They painted the garage sale dressers a bold shade of aqua and tied everything together with a new duvet cover and fresh shams. Ann’s husband, Doug, is an artist, so they put beautiful paintings on the wall. They organized my cabinets and closet. They cleaned out my refrigerator. Chris and Doug were in on the action too, hanging pictures and window shades.

My place looks chic and feels cozy. As stunned as i was when I opened the door and saw my sparkling bachelorette pad, I was amazed at the care they took, organizing all of my things. Clothing was folded neatly and arranged in drawers. Cabinets were logically organized.

I’m a private person and Ann and Nancy reorganizing all of my stuff was discomfiting. Very few people know me inside and out, but they do. These two women are truly non-judgemental.

It has been a difficult year for me, especially financially. My employment status is tenuous. The icing on the kindness cake was when Nancy said that the redo was a gift from her and Ann. They wanted me to have cheerful surroundings, so that I can climb out of my hole.

I can never repay this kindness, but I can appreciate how lucky I am to have these women, my sisters, in my life.

If you want different results, do different things

I am getting better. I can tell because I spent more time outside today. I interacted with human beings, and only looked at Twitter briefly. As a depressed person, I really have no business engaging in something that makes me feel so awful.

My goal is to try something different every day. Today I showered. I also started this blog. And I went to the library, which I have been putting off for months. I have a library card, and the card of the literacy services coordinator. While I am searching for a job, I can still volunteer to help someone learn to do something that will change their lives. I got Dave Robichaux book today, part of a series that got me through dark times in Florida. How lonely can I be when I am reading about New Orleans?   

Gag (Me) Order

I can tell you how to maintain your equilibrium in these times of insanity. Don't listen to the news. Stay off of social media. Get out of the house. Socialize. Create. I just can't do them myself. One of my very creative, serene friends does all of these. She refuses to let anyone talk about current events, especially politics in her presence. At first, it was annoying, but now it makes sense. Her house is a haven from the every day craziness.

I am a Twitter addict. Every morning, I wake up  to check it. Sometimes I awaken in the middle of the night to check it. All I want to see is that Donald Trump has been arrested or has choked on a cheeseberder. My hope is that when either of these events finally happen, and our country is no longer plagued with this sham of a president, things will return to normal, and I will be able to log off of Twitter.

What would I do if I wasn't absorbed in this social media platform? I would meditate. I would be more fit. My blog would be updated every day. My cannabis consumption would decrease. My sound sleep would increase. My apartment would be cleaner. My depression would subside.

I know i am an addict, because Twitter is getting in the way of me living life. At the moment, I am unemployed. I have loads of down time and instead of using it wisely, I get totally sucked in.  It is a fight for me sometimes to get out and be with humans who aren't talking politics. Or even humans who are, as long as they are humans.

I logged onto Twitter in the summer of 2015, just as the presidential campaign was heating up. I checked in periodically but there was nothing compelling to keep me engaged. I got really absorbed in the summer of 2016, during the conventions. The debates between Hillary Clinton and Trump grabbed me and didn't let me go. Once he was elected, my eyes barely left my phone screen, as I lay in my bed, unable to stop crying and vomiting. I still have those moments. I am a snowflake.

The big news this morning was Roger Stone going to court because he posted a threatening picture on Instagram. He said he thought it was a Celtic symbol. The judge imparted a complete gag order on him, but he should have had his bail revoked and gone to jail.

Also, the Secretary of Labor has been found guilty of fucking up the Jeffrey Epstein case. The details of the Epstein case are indelible in my mind. The secretary was accused of obstruction of justice.

The president is tweeting about the actor who hired people to inflict a hate crime on him, but refuses to address the fact that coast guard officer was found to have weapons and a hit list on him.

Any of these things would have shut down the government prior to this administration. This president literally shuts down the government. Now these formerly shocking events are ho hummed away.

The news exhausts me but i can't look away. If I do, who knows what will happen?

My goal is to spend more time outside my phone, interacting with real human beings, talking about something other than current events. Will that time ever come?