This is awesome

Ever put down a good book and thought "what a piece of art"

Now it is!

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I know what I want for my birthday!

Tubing with Alligator Gars

I was a water baby growing up. When it came to the pool, I was first in and last out. When it came to the Lake? I was first in and scared to death to be anything but the first out. Lake Waco is murky, green, eerie, large, and full of gigantic water monsters waiting to attack you, specifically the Alligator Gar. During my developing years, which also happens to be when you are the most ignorant, my cousin Dustin let me in on all pertinent information regarding the Alligator Gar:

• They want to eat me;
• They will eat me;
• They are all over the lake and not found in just one area;
• They love blood;
• They get curious after seeing a big splash in the water and will come and see what the ruckus is all about (in case there's blood); and
• They won’t hurt you if you have another person swimming with you (they’re very scared of 2 or more people).

Therein lies the rub - I was not always swimming with another person. Example? Tubing.

So I’m out, having the time of my life as my father drives the boat at (not really) break-neck speeds trying to flip my cousin and I off of the tube. Hannah and I were amazing at this. No one could get us off of that tube. We had a system down. We should have patented it (the HanBec Technique). It was really, really, really hard to get us off. There was, of course, a flaw in the technique. It took both people doing it for it to work! Hannah seemed to sabotage me a bit (I have no proof of this, so I am wildly speculating in order to save my ego). At some point during our marathon tubing Hannah decided she no longer wanted to share. So, when she was supposed to throw her weight to one side so we could both stay on and claim another tube-turning victory, she wouldn’t budge. Mean… and she always timed it perfectly. Off I went while she stayed nicely on the tube. I promise you, it was because she would purposely ignore the basics of our perfected technique. It of COURSE couldn’t have been me!?!?!?! By the way… when you fly off a tube, you are stranded and at the mercy of the driver to get you, and if you’ve been acting like a brat – the boat driver may not have a lot of mercy on you.

Well, off I’d go skipping over the water like a throwing stone, all while watching Hannah get her solo ride on the tube.

Stupid lack of grip
Stupid Hannah for kicking me off the tube
Stupid water in my nose, eyes & sinus cavity [blow water out of all orifices because it hurts]
Stupid fish
Stupid bloody nose
Blood - oh no oh no oh no!  Didn’t Dustin say something about Gar’s in the water? and something about them loving blood?  Hasn’t he said something about them multiple times!?!

I started to look around dumbly for the boat and the tube-traitor and after failing to locate them, I panic.  They are not here. They are over THERE! Dad’s got no mercy for me and is now trying to fly Hannah off of the tube! I am STUCK in the middle of this scary lake without the required gar-deterring swimming buddy! GULP, reality hit me harder than the water I just flew into… my life is in severe jeopardy. The death defying tube ride I just went on was easy-peasy (bloody nose be damned) in comparison to the agonizing wait I have ahead of me!

-This is about the time I start replaying every harrowing conversation I’ve had with Dustin on the subject and all roads pointed to certain death. I trusted Dustin; I didn’t need to do the research. If I had, I would have found out that they stay close to the shore and there hasn’t been an attack on Lake Waco ever-

What’s taking so long?!?!?! Where’s the boat? The boat’s over THERE? Where are the Gars? They’re UNDERNEATH ME! The boats over THERE, I’m HERE, and the Gars are BELOW! I panic. I’m not talking panic as in “hmm this is a little creepy, I realllly wish that they would hurry up because I want a coke and I’m panicked that Perry might be drinking the last one.” No, I’m talking about hysterics. I start to kick frenetically. I start to cry. I start screaming and waving for the boat to hurry up to come and rescue me. I start to believe they are terrorizing me, because they are NOT coming as fast as I would like. Finally, Dad and the crew are there and laughing as I swim urgently towards to stern of the boat like my life depends on it (because it does). I am so pissed off and panic-stricken because my father, nay, my Daddy! had left me for dead! Didn’t he know about the gars? Why would he leave me to fend for myself? I’m in a lifejacket for Pete’s sake!  I can’t do anything but FLOAT!

I, of course, continue to have a hissy fit and throw my brother overboard as an attempt to satiate my anger (I was pretty sure that throwing daddy overboard would not have gone over very well). THEN, Perry would use the situation as the perfect opportunity to swim towards the stern of the boat to get on the tube! I know I was crying and all, but, ummmmm, Perry? I wasn’t done by the way.

It was a vicious circle. Guess who got scared all over again when she flew off yet again?!?!?! That’s right, me. Dad never realized that he could have saved himself from the angry little human by getting me INSTANLY out of the water.

Gars still scare me to this day. I hate them. But I love tubing.

Victory is mine and the tube's... and also the gar's.  Victory was never Hannah's.

The “When-Script-Was-Written-To-When-Script-Can-Be-Filled” Fiasco

My doctor got ahead of herself one month and gave me my ADD script two weeks in advance. For two weeks I had to hold on to “prescription gold” and not lose it.  I checked my purse about 10 times a day and it all started with a "ghhhasp... where's my script?!?!?!  Ah, exactly where I left it 10 minutes ago." 

The reasoning for the “ghhhasp” follows a sound line of ADHD logic: your doctor has handed you a permission slip clearing you to take highly regulated meds.  You don't want to lose your valuable permission slip for speed because it turns out you need it, you want to look like you can handle this error responsibly and non-addictively, AND if you do lose it then bad things will happen.  To name a few: You could look bad to Dr. Prescriber; Dr. Prescriber might think you are selling it and therefore not using it as directed; you will not get your daily fix; people may start to realize what they already suspect… that you are indeed crazy.  All of this because it was honestly lost in your cluster-f**k of thoughts and actions!  It’s not fair that Dr. Prescriber may think that you are not being honest about the drugs when really it was their fault for putting you (a highly medicated and crazy person) in this situation!

By the way… feel guilty about all this because you neglect to inform yourself that you are not asking for an advance on your medication, but for Dr. Prescriber to put the dadgum over zealous pen & pad down and just wait until your next appointment to write the script.  OOH, but then she may notice that you have not been taking them regularly.  (See how cyclical this is getting!)  Also, shouldn’t you be talking about this with her anyways?  She is your shrink after all!...

And then, because you have ADD, the accidental Dr. Prescriber imposed when-script-was-written-to-when-script-can-be-filled two week lag time turns into a three week prescription written-to-refill "lay-over" because you didn’t want to take some of your pills on a few weekends (you wanted to sleep) and you had a few extra left over.  Here’s where it gets sticky, if it hasn’t already…

You went to Trinidad & Tobago for a week, came back, got sick, and then got better.  You now need the meds because you have to go to work.  Off you go to find your golden ticket to workplace efficiency when you notice that the filled-on-date of your last refill is 8/10/10 and your amphetamine was prescribed to you on 8/9/10.  It is 9/15/10.  You contemplate fudging a 1 in front of the 9 but you are pretty sure that they will catch you if you do.  Dangit, you have amazingly and resourcefully (congrats) managed this hiccup in life to where you are getting your script 1 full month ahead of when you really need to refill it and then you actually can't refill it (because 1 month is the longest the FDA will let you forgo your claim on amphetamines) and you think... "How the HELL do I explain this to my doctor?!?!" But wait a tic!  A silver lining appears as you realize, as you often do, that your reality is not ‘true’ reality… because in ‘true’ reality it's technically time to refill it again!!!

You pick up the phone to call Dr. Prescriber while trying to ignore the nagging fear of rejection and discovery that’s running down your spine.  “Hello?”  …work up courage…  “Hey! It’s me, I’m back from vacation and it’s time for a refill!”  Dr. Prescriber says “Great, it’ll be ready at the front desk for you this afternoon!” 

And NOW after a year, you are back on schedule and no one is the wiser.  Hah, I fooled you Dr. Prescriber, I fooled you.

Victory