Abstinence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder... And The Body Stay Clean

As I lingered in the patient room at CareNow in Fort Worth, I had to tell a nurse, whom I have met for the first time, about the act of indiscretion that landed me in her place of employment.  And I tell the story about how my ex, who shall be referred to as Becky, dropped a bombshell on me last week about how she had been tested positive for genital herpes and that I should be checked out, too.  As I am telling this to the nurse while trying to maintain a sense of humor about it all and not trying to call Becky a whore at the same time.

Did I mention I had a lingering sore throat, too? (Let's hope the two are not related. At least I don't have strep.)

My mind started to wander, as it always does in these situations, right into "where did I go wrong" or  "why is it I always have this kind of bad luck."  Can I not be with a woman and not have to deal with these types of issues?  I have had a couple of scares in the past but not with something penicillin won't cure.  

Honestly, this is where the rubber meets the road.  The first thing I had to admit, somewhat publicly I might add, is that I had sex, I had sex with a carrier of a virus that won't go away. I am imagining the Valtrex commercial and how people seem to be happy living with genital herpes except that won't be me.  No, I'm too busy beating myself up for not having the discipline to say no to someone who I had some very obvious questions about in the first place.  I knew the risk and took it anyway and it makes me no better than her in the end.

The second thing is possible treatment.  Again, I'm imagining the Valtrex commercial and how they say 70% of people with genital herpes get it from their partner when there were no obvious signs and symptoms.  However, there is Valtrex.  Now I am thinking and have to plan on more doctor visits and more in co-pays on my insurance. Fortunately I have an employer that can help me with this on a Cafeteria Plan and I won't have to pay taxes on that money.

The third thing was bringing this up to the redhead, who surprisingly took it well.  She acknowledges that it can be treated with medication and we will be able to deal with it but the guilt I have for exposing the love of my life to this is a little overwhelming.  The last thing I want to do is harm another human being through my actions and especially in this way.

So... there I am sitting in the patient room... What next?  It's the waiting for the test results in a few days.  

You know, kids, there is something to be said for abstinence.  It works 100% every time it's tried.

What Happens In Bama Makes You Want To Move To Texas

Boss: I'm so glad I have a driver like you.

Me: Thanks, Boss. What made you say that?

Boss: You don't screw things up.

Me: Isn't that what we're SUPPOSED to do.

Boss: You know how drivers are...

Me: I don't know but tell me, please.

Boss: [SILENT]

Me: Boss, have you considered what it would be like if I wasn't around?

Boss: Oh, come on!!! You'll never leave here.

Me: We'll see about that. [WINK]

   This was a conversation I had with my boss in 2013.  By this point I had spent almost 3 years with a local outfit in Huntsville, AL.  I wasn't just driving.  I was spending one day a week in the office helping with regulatory and office-related functions such as truck maintenance records, driver daily logs, recovering load paperwork and training.  The Big Fuzzy Roadman was the go-to guy for all your latest trucking and fuel hauling knowledge.  This was as lovely as watching a funeral procession slowly pass through town.

Friend: Hey! What's up?

Me: Not much. You?

Friend: I was wondering if you could help me out?

Me: [ROLLS EYES] How much is this going to cost me?

   This conversation usually happened when a broke friend needed money. One in particular made it look like I was his personal ATM until I cut him off.  Nobody ever seemed to have the means to pay their bills much less pay me back. Often times I would 'gift' them the money. I knew many of them couldn't pay me back.  The most disappointing thing was their lack of effort.

Female: My boyfriend treats me like crap.

Me: We've had this conversation before.  If it's that bad why don't you leave him?

Female: I don't know.  I love him and all but every time I think he has to go I think that I am going to be lonely and my kids will miss him and my bed will be empty and I can't pay my own bills without him.

Me: I guess you love him enough for him to pull his crap on you.

     This was a normal conversation with female friends.  What makes it worse is that most of these women wouldn't know a good guy if they met one.  Nice guys weren't a wanted commodity.  They were talked about like they were but the buttholes always made their way to first place.  I was used to this.  Maybe it was time to look for another pool of available, intelligent women wanting to actually be in a real relationship with a real man willing to treat them like a lady.  It wore on me to see codependent women keep on being codependent.  They must have liked it, I guess.

Engineer: Hey there, Mr. Gas Hauler!  How does it feel to drive around a bomb?

Me: I noticed you work for NASA.  How does it feel to work for a government department that is having funding cut?  Too bad the current administration doesn't support you dream of being an astronaut.

   Engineers always seemed to have the upper hand in North Alabama.  Huntsville has the most PhD's per capita that any other major city in Alabama. They made more money and changed the face of the city. For as much as they broadened the city's demographic, they often looked down on others as if they were royalty.  It makes me glad I dropped out of school and didn't become one myself.

Family Member: Hey!!! Long time no see!

Me: I cant remember when I last saw you.

Family:  Well, if you'd stick around longer people might actually get to know you.  Heck, if you'd come to church and watch a football game with us we'd like you more.  Too bad you prefer to ride the highways like a gypsy.

Me: Well, I'm too busy living my own life to let anyone else own it.

     The problem with many of my extended family members is that they were way too self-absorbed for my liking.  If you didn't like the same things as they did or go to the same church then you didn't fit in. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't follow conversations on family gossip.  They let their imaginations run wild when I left out details of my life such as the real reason I became a truck driver, making money and taking care of a home.

Alabama Football Fan: Hey! ROLL TIDE!!!

Me: [SIGHS IN DISGUST]

     I know how many Bama Football fans there are.  They are everywhere.  They were their colors, crimson and white.  They shout their war call, ROLL TIDE!  They are arrogant. They are disgusting.  And they worship a dead football coach.  As many of them are awaiting the second coming of Jesus, they also await the day, during the Iron Bowl, that the great Paul W. 'Bear' Bryant will descend from heaven and take over coaching duties as only he could.  Bama fans everywhere will kneel as the Bear will charge one more time to defeat Auburn and put them down never to be seen again.

     I know that some you still live in Sweet Home Alabama and I do miss some things but I no longer experience the same nonsense that brings me down anymore.  To my Bama friends, best of luck.

The Hardest Part of Living With Someone

Dad died in 2009.  If you knew him you'd never forget him.  He had no problem meeting a stranger and no one would stay a stranger for long.  He flirted with the ladies, much to Mom's disdain.  Dad left a positive impression on everyone he met.  He worked hard and played even harder.  Dad once said he wanted to retire to a place where beautiful women were waiting on him hand and foot all the time.  You got to hand it to him, there were some beautiful nurses in the nursing home where he spent the last three years of his life.

Mom died in 2013. She spent much of her time isolated and never went out much as my little brother and I were growing up.  She couldn't drive and hated public transportation.  Her biggest ambition in life was to get a disability check. She hardly had any friends and of those friends, she had she milked those friendships to death and ultimately ran all of her friends off.  Her last three years on this planet were in what she called a hellhole, a nursing home in Lexington, TN, where the staff went out of their way to treat her like a human being instead of another patient waiting to die in those halls.

Comparatively speaking Dad and Mom were like oil and water.  As I grew older I failed to see what he saw in her.  Mom was very, very demanding.  Even though Dad drove for a living he also drove as Mom's personal chauffeur. Mom couldn't do anything on her own and always cited Dad as the reason she couldn't.  Dad, on the other hand, never questioned anything and always faithfully executed his duties without fail, that is until he could not drive anymore.

Dad never complained though.  Mom complained all the time.

Once I was talking with Dad while he was in the nursing home.  He started to look better.  Mom noticed and asked me if I would have a word with him about going home because, of course, she sure did miss having him around.

As I approached Dad with this a stern look of disgust landed on his face as he told me emphatically, 'No! I don't want to go home!'  

'Ok, Pop. I can respect that but can you tell me why?'

'Your momma will drive me crazy!'

So the truth comes out.  Dad not only get his beautiful women but he also managed his escape from his crazy life with Mom.  

Way to go, Dad!

By the way, I still miss you.

Howard Berryman, Sr. 1936-2009

Eating Pie

   Some days it's just hard to focus on the hopes, the dreams, and all the good things that keep you motivated to strive for something better in your own life. It's not always easy hearing how professionally dressed people walked out on paying their restaurant tab from my fiance, or the old ladies who can only afford propane one month at a time. This might be hard to hear, but if anyone stops trying then the battle is truly lost.
   While wandering on Facebook I found this quote, "Everybody says that they're trying to get their piece of the pie. They don't realize that the world is a kitchen. They can make their own pie." -Terry Crews. This completely displays original American optimism, that if we ever lose our creative motivation then we will stop making our own pie. I like my pie and I like to eat it too, but it also means I have to get up off my rear and make my own pie everyday.
   We currently live in a world where we are told that 40% of the American population supports 60% of the population. This could also be an indicator of how many people have lost hope, stopped trying, stopped creating, stopped looking, stopped making pie in the own kitchens figuratively speaking. Don't know about you, but I get up when it is dark out and go to bed when it is dark out and work a full day in-between, that is a lot of humble pie. Time to start cooking America, if you don't cook you don't eat.

Cheatin' Like In A Country Song

     "Well how do I know, I'm not there with you," this is a common complaint among women today and a few men. People are never sure of what their beloved, other half, girlfriend, boyfriend, lover, or romantic acquaintance is doing behind or in front of their backs. There is a more common story about the guy who went to war and came back to a girl who is no longer his fiance but had married someone else. This theme was popular in 1920's movies, now it seems to be much more fashionable to go on Craigslist and make new friends who all believe in time that they are each your fiance or romantic attachment. This is true for guys and girls, but it is not any less shameful when a person needs their friends to become their own private investigators so when your fiance gets tired of you and doesn't have the guts to break up with you before they go and find new fiances to string along.

   As much as I would like to require that every human being wear an ankle tracking device, this will not solve the problem of 'cheatin' achy-breaky hearts while all my exes live in Texas'. How can real relationships be formed if the sneaky people won't stop treating the hopeful people like chew toys because they are bored? Or is any relationship really safe if one person is always suspicious without reason and the other person works like a dog trying to be transparent and honest, and the suspicious one is usually the guilty one who is running around all over town. 

   This is usually the point on Dr. Phil, Oprah, or Jerry Springer where each side starts yelling and pointing fingers at the other while blasting profanity, accusations, and a lot of whiny crying. Each side is so perfect in their kind of wrong that the watcher stops caring who is right or wrong because truth is only in the eye of the beholder. It's kind of funny that's it's only after you start 'seeing someone' that they think that they have to hold you accountable of where you have been, who you talk to, and fact checking all of your stories while checking your cell phone. Then if you can still tolerate this juvenile behavior they start the same censorship of your credit cards, bills, and paycheck. What trust is there in that? Why all of this guilt-induced nagging? Bad behaviors are a sign of bad habits, and these should be fixed. 

   You meet someone, they want to get really personal really fast, as if it is their life's goal to own you, I think people call this being wanted. Then you get drugged on the feeling of being wanted and ignore all the other crazy manipulative crap that goes on because you are wanted....I mean owned by another person. Usually the owning type is a life time collector of other people's lonely hearts, then the relationship gets even more personal and emotionally abusive with your credit card history thrown in. This is no better than a self inflicted cycle of abuse, and you were conned by a soul collector who saw you coming a mile away. 

   A long time acquaintance of mine had a son who was a civilian special ops contractor, he found a sweet girl, then he was shipped out to Afghanistan for six months. When he got back, his fiance had a different fiance and two other boyfriends that she had found online. This poor boy thought love was somewhere in the equation of his life, instead he was conned by a soul collector with a pretty face and body. Then there was my own ex-wife who constantly claimed she couldn't prove I wasn't cheating because she was not with me 24 hours a day, and in the end I found out that she was the one sleeping with anything that would move while I driving the truck across country. This was not true love, because true love does not hurt others on purpose. There is that part of your soul that wants to feel something other than the freedom of the open road, and even if it's hurtful and negative always seems better than feeling nothing at all. Be smarter than this.

     Stay in school, do your home work, so when your friends find things out of where your sweet heart has been, the conversation will never bring up Craigslist.

Go Big or Go Home

 

     There are days when I need to be reminded of who I really am, almost like a self pep talk into feeling a foundation under my feet and washing my spirit with that memorable hope that has been erased by the distractions of life. My job is very demanding, like anyone else I love it because they treat me well, but there are days when I put my head down and launch into a memorized cycle of no return. It is when my heart is stuck in a place of not finding it's happiness, while my head and body are out making money to please my boss. In this instance my heart is not my boss, instead it is a guy I will call Phil, my soul is a comma patient, and brain is on a mission for Fair Trade Propane.

   This is not a rant or rave against Fair Trade Propane or Phil, like I said I appreciate my job because they treat me so well and I show them my gratitude regularly. However, like any other hard working American who works at least ten hours or more a day every day, there is a tendency to forget that once upon a time you had goals and dreams that were not work related. You forget about wanting to have hobbies, you forget about being interested in other subjects that will let you learn about non-job related things, you forget about what you were and who you really are.

   After meeting my red head and starting to have something similar to a social life, her response to so many things was 'go big or go home'. At first it was funny, at the Chinese Buffet I was challenged to get that 5th plate of food, her response to this dilemma was 'go big or go home' so I got the extra plate. Then as we started to talk about business plans, the stock market, marketing strategies, and ideas that would take a lot of long term planning and extra hours at home that my job does not allow for; her response was 'go big or go home'. This was a challenge that I was really starting to take to heart. 

   What was something I felt big about and wasn't all talk and no action. My job would not always be this busy, I would be able to slow down in three more months if I was hopeful and patient. But what things was I willing to call my own again that I was willing to fight for and keep in my life? What things did I feel that I should go big with or leave at home for a future review. I know that I am your friendly neighborhood propane delivery man, but what else am I? I needed to know that my beer gut was not the only big thing in my life that would stick around for a while that was serious part of me, there had to be more to me than a smile and a beer gut. 

   Then the red head explained to me why she always used the slogan that she did, "Well a long time ago it made sense that 'going big' meant showing love to world in ways it did not understand. Or being the bigger person was not a size thing but a 'not make the world a worse place' thing. So when she used her usual expression, she simply meant that by 'going big' you improve the world and don't let hurt you or itself. What she meant by 'or go home', this is when you recharge your batteries to fight another day and the devil can't win. 

   "Those with the biggest hearts always go big because they don't limit their capacity to love....then you get a different version of the energizer bunny," then the red head told me that size of my heart was one of the reasons she knows that she can emotionally connect with me, I am a fixer-upper, but I am her fixer-upper and that we really need to go home because she can't eat any more at the Chinese Buffet. Her pants don't fit any more so it is time to leave. I quickly find myself again and ask for the check....since I know what dessert is.

Working Christmas Eve

   Nobody knows love like eating ham and eggs on your way to work on Christmas Eve. So how do I mean this you ask, well the ham was a gift from my job at Northwest Propane and the eggs were cooked by my fiance so that I could have a quick meal in the morning when she wasn't there so I would not go hungry every morning while running out the door. It was part of her fight to keep me away from the golden tombstones, a.k.a. McDonald's drive-thru.
   I can't say that I could taste the care or love in the food while eating it at Southlake traffic lights, but I could feel the fore thought and consideration that people had for me in making sure I had been taken care of. This is during the time of year that depression, suicide, and an introverted sense of hopelessness takes control of many people who become the polar opposite of the Christmas spirit. This is when all feelings of loss, abandonment, joylessness, and a bottomless hunger that can never be satisfied takes over those who don't want to be saved or have given up the fight to be happy, or are just worn out from trying which they call pretending. They have shut their eyes to the little gifts in life that make daily life worth living everyday of the year, not just around the holidays. They can't see the bowls of eggs and ham for breakfast because their pain has closed their eyes and their hearts.
   This all also goes back to the time when I was in the hospital and I could feel God telling me to be more grateful for what I had which helped to make everyday is an adventure in my world. After this revelation of sorts, I really could appreciate the small things in life and see the blessings others give without anticipating repayment. I truly am grateful for the honey glazed hams from my work (which my fiance will make more food with than I can eat when she comes over), and all the little ways that my red head makes a big impact in my life. I will not reveal any sappy details about her, but I am always telling her that I love her more than she knows....but then she might, her cooking has made me lose weight since it is all real food....the stock market price just dropped for McDonald's.
 

Don't Paint Your Propane Tank Brown

I really don't know if people know anything about propane at all. Some people honestly don't like the fact that they have a big bulky tank in their yard that has to be filled every year with money they claim to not have. They consider driving the truck into their driveway actually becomes an 'intrusion' to their privacy and I become the outsider trespassing on their property long enough to fill their tank, collect payment and leave tracks in their yard. (Side note: I don't like to leave the concrete if I can at all avoid it.) 

I do run into those however who want to paint a tank a color to match the house they live in.  If it's white, aluminum or other heat-reflective color this is not a problem.  But imagine a tank painted brown, dark brown to color coordinate with the walls and trim on your single-wide, 16' X 80' trailer. It can be a very confusing task to try and explain the scientific reasons why I cannot legally fill their tank because it is the wrong color. This is not like the popular TV show What Not To Wear and the poor person keeps mixing plaids with stripes, this is about the fact that darker colors make the tank hotter thus making the liquid propane expand in large quantities so the additional heat can make it explode. Nature is not always kind, and it is a community service to correct this misconception if they want their tank to last a few more years of which are also not cheap.

The most volatile characteristic of liquid propane is how it reacts to temperature.  At 0° F outside temperature liquid propane will not expand much in a tank at all and will have hardly any vapor pressure.  However, at 117° F, which is known to happen in Texas, a fully filled propane tank (at about 80 % of  listed water capacity of the tank)  with a working pressure of 250 psi has a very serious chance of spewing gas through the relief valve like Old Faithful.  Darker colors retain heat, this is why heat-reflective colors are required for the outside surface area of the of a propane storage tank. Even Cliff and Stacy would agree that lighter colors in the summer time would totally lower the sweat factor, and the psi pressure in your tank.

When a tank spews forth like a raging geyser it then becomes a liability and costs hundreds of dollars to fix. Also prompting calls to the fire department and other authorities who will in turn ask the question as to why their propane tank was painted brown. Evacuation of the area might even be mandatory costing people valuable time away from their homes. Once a relief valve pops off, then the tank can no longer be used in the storage of liquid propane until this valve is replaced, costing unnecessary dollars and down time.  We certainly want to help protect our friends and neighbors safe by being able to keep the water heaters and ovens going. Everybody wants hot food and showers, so is it worth the cost to paint your propane tank brown? Vanity cannot afford this cost.

Propane Tank In Paris

   Today I left a warm bodied red head sleeping in my bed, who woke up when I kissed her, grabbed my shirt and pulled me in closer. My mind is only a blur of this image as I drive to Paris Texas to install a propane tank. There is a ziplock bag of orange craisin scones complete with white glaze sitting on the seat next to me, she insists that she is not Martha Stewart, but my recent weight loss due to her cooking says otherwise. I don't think Hank Hill knows what it means to really be a propane guy, he doesn't deliver the gas, drive the transports, or set up the holding tanks all over Texas.
   The red head will be taking pictures for me today so that more items can be sold on Ebay, she says that the pictures are the contract between you and the buyer. I have a very efficient legal agent. These are some of the little things she does not make me not want to work today. She makes doing nothing the most desirable thing in the world...my memories of her include images of the naked photo shoot Marilyn Monroe did before she died...except I could touch her, and she made lasagna. I really don't want to work today.
   She makes being a truck driver painful, that every mile between means just as many that I have to travel back to reach a hot meal, quiet house, and a very relaxing bed. We truck drivers don't have many luxuries in life that happen on a daily basis, we have to wait until we are allowed to stop moving long enough to make the time to enjoy them. We crash a lot, as in we work until we can't go any more then we crash from the shear exhaustion and don't get to use or see much of the humanity around us, thus we are a little socially malnourished. Last night I crashed into bed, so tired and dead asleep, that I never heard my red head get out of the shower and come to bed looking like Marilyn Monroe from that photo shoot. This is just one of the many ways I feel as if death is winning and life lost a point in this game.
   Later we will talk antiques, shipping, billing fees, bubble wrap, and the cost of packaging peanuts, then how my hands hurt and that my shoulder is acting up. She will make me an ice wrap and massage a few of the hurt areas with her elbows, then put me to bed. If I don't start snoring within the first two minutes, she will run her nails over my skin and melt me like butter....this is when I am no longer a truck driver and do not have the mental capacity to decide anything. I am going to die now in the arms of a red head. Don't try and stop me....she made barbecue chicken.