Shitting glitter in Shingle Springs

Whoa and a hearty WHA???
Here we is. Cameron Park, if by any other name... just outside of Placerville, solidly in the Gold Country. And I am diving for pearls. Oy, sir. Oysters.... Hang Town. That's a joke that you'll have to figure out (I suppose Google might aid a bit).
Evicted from 1721. How un-nice that all was. Was is the operative word. We are done and doner with that, please, pray tell me so. But still feeling the oddness... shall I digress? Let me.
Upon arriving here, under the roof provided by dear friends, Stephen and Michael (gawd bless 'em), I went to the local health clinic to have something long haunting me -- a wart in a horrible place to have such. No, not my ass, but it may as well have been.
One thing leads to another - and my blood pressure is taken - it is through the roof, with a systolic (that's the top number) over 230. My attending phys goes crazy and expects me to detonate any second and sends me post haste to the local hospital - Marhshall - to the ER. Yeah, she was that freaked, as were they all that shared the magic.
Stephen gets the thrill of being not only my taxi but a witness to the many hours of screaming - and I mean screaming - children and the various and sundry ailing and all that --- but how long do we wait? Hours. Many.
After watching the turnover of the afflicted pass and fill and pass again, I ask what's up and I cannot abide and am leaving... "But, you're next..." Uh huh.
We arrived there around 3, left near 10. Blood taken, X-rays, blood pressure again and again and again - an EKG - the works. Oh, and a turkey loaf sandwich after it becomes obvious that I've been there a long time.
I leave with a few days of meds and an appointment to see a doc some time that next week.
The meds did nothing, nada, zip.
But I do find out that I do not have Hep or AIDS or any other STDs or such - I suppose all this is positive. Yes, it sure is. But.
We are now on a higher dosage, and still, haven't broken that 200 mark. Is coffee about to eliminated from my diet? Tell me "NO." It's my last great thrill.
Oh, this may ALL be my last thrill. I am so done. But, be positive, Bubby. Okay.
Now all is eradicated as to LA County benefits and we have to deal yet again with mindset of them that do for the county one is within -- not the State, mind you; this is all county, statewide, even if the EBT (foodstamp and whatever) program is state. Go figure. Dare ya. Then come explain it to me.
Can't wait for the bill from the ER. That should be a dandy one. Like I could pay it anyhow.
All is good.
Haven't really cooked a meal yet, which is kind of Farouk on leave, but also miles away from my regular diet. Steve is really into mayonaise big time (more personal than chef-oriented, but, mayo rules in his dietary realm) and poor Michael somehow got Gout. Gout? That's from another place in time, ain't it? I have to watch what was my dwindling yet enormous waistline. Salts and fats. Killers. They know me by name, but they have to find me.... oh, they have.
Speaking of finding me, hardly anyone else knows where I am. It will remain so for a while.
Pray, light candles, pray some more -- this is one odd E-ticket I'm riding.
Wheeeeeeee.
More later, as we just got hooked up with the Net today at home. Thrills.

March!

More than a month - a command!

And we are leaving lovely 1721 here for somewhat unknown territory, territories. Thrust under the grinding wheels of progress, I am out of here at some unknown date, eviction! Got served a three-day Pay OR Quit notice while in Boston visiting the very ill and time-challenged Gene Bellabona. Marshall flew me in, first class, for dim sum with the two of them, the result of a phone conversation in December while they were eating in Boston's Chinatown.

That trip brought this action here into play, as I was unable to have even known of this in time to deal adequately with all that it brings with it.

Life will go on.

But, the collected amounts of stuff, endless. I have already loaded a carful to Goodwill and there will be more. Can I comfortably walk away from this all? Yes, yes, and yes. What's the alternative? A shopping cart reality for the duration? I think not.

Friends. Family. Sister Mary is coming down from her retreat in the mountains of Boulder Creek above San Jose/Santa Cruz to collect the artworks and give them safe haven until. All else is subject to disbursement and getting disposed of, one way or another. SO much to deal with as we open boxes untouched for near a decade. Mercy.

The dust. My eyes!

But all seems remarkably even for such weird territory. It's all new to me, folks.

Have dealt with the Department of Social Services trying to keep some of this above water. Back when first going for assistance, I got a notice saying I was not to get anything because my spouse (not her again?) hadn't filled out some form. Uh huh. May this work in my favor, but at the time, it was death to the spirit, as the system is apt to do so well.

Tuesday I was found to be disabled. This is old news, but my legs and feet emoted themselves into a hurtful limp as I went to get this evaluation. Good until May 27 - a three-month window. Plus, they didn't receive the paper work for Food Stamps or whatever they all it now (a not so bad to handle plastic card - oh, it's called an EDB card).

Now I have to seek medical assistance from more Free circumstances, such as the Free Clinic over near the Beverly Center.

I am busy.

But, greetings from a fresh month. What fun lies ahead!