Hello, how are you?

It took me half-an-hour to write two paragraphs of a blog, only to get Mac’s dreaded spinning wheel of death. I had to re-boot Matt Dictate and start all over. Nobody can call me a quitter.... at least not yet.

It’s difficult for me when someone I haven’t seen for awhile asks "How are you?" “Good” I will answer and mean it. "Really?" is often the skeptical response. How can I explain? Life is amazing and terrible, and hilarious and sad. Every day I face new hurdles and every day I laugh out loud.

I am in awe of the magnolia tree outside my window. I love my bird, who just foiled my voice recognition attempts by yelling “fuck ya" when I said "I love my bird," and who is continually messing up the program’s train of thought by shrieking "HI!" The bird forgets that she can’t fly and she falls rather unceremoniously, landing with a crash and squawking "Hello, how are you!" every time. She falls so much I would swear she has ALS. She is so adorable that she helps me remember to be good-natured when I fall.

It is really all a matter of attitude and perception isn't it? My niece hands my nephew some imaginary seeds, which she’s been carefully holding. She plants the imaginary seeds in an imaginary plot and shows her brother where he should plant the rest. He says no. She tells him he must plant them as she has instructed. Again he refuses so she grabs the imaginary seeds from him and walks away. My nephew is bereft . He cries tears only a toddler can cry as he displays his now empty palm to my brother who then has to ask his daughter to give back the non-existent seeds. This manages to placate my nephew. The power of the mind.

When I hear stories about my niece and nephew, I’m great. When I see the look on my brother’s face as he recounts them to me, I’m awesome.

So of course when I say "I'm good" it's true. Annabel and Atticus were playing a game and Annabel threw her hands up in the air and cried "I win!" And Atticus in turn threw his hands up in the air and shouted "I lose!" With equal delight. That’s how I feel – I mean like both of them.

Case in point: this bucking software drives me insane. (Matt Dictate wants me to call it “bucking software.” Sigh. Fine.) It takes forever to write one bucking sentence, then it gets the bucking names Annabel and Atticus correct on the first try.

What the buck?!!?

Okay, but if you look at it another way, how in the hell is it even possible that I am talking into a little microphone and words are instantly being typed? That is totally mind blowing. If I had had this disease even 10 years ago, how much harder would it have sucked?

Case 2: Sure I waited a ridiculous length of time for my wheelchair to be approved by DoucheNet….I mean HealthNet... but it arrives on Tuesday and it is chili pepper red!

I can choose how to look at things. That is the one thing this disease can’t take from me. That and love.

At least that’s what I tell myself as it gets harder and harder to feed myself and impossible to do most other basic tasks. It’s so surreal – I am so handicapped and yet I'm so damned good lookin'. (Please don't come after me for that one, PC disability police -it's a joke.)

But seriously folks....

It's helps me deal with the not so fun aspects of my life knowing how so many of you have shared with me that my illness has brought you in touch with your sense of gratitude. Knowing that so many friends and cyber friends recognize what an awesome gift it is to breathe, to eat, to walk, to type and simply to observe the life around us makes the bullshit go down a little smoother (and no, that is not intended as a mixed metaphor.)

I have to say though, all gratitude aside, I wish Matt Dictate were a person so I could give him a piece of my mind before kicking him in the balls. I bucking hate you Matt Dictate! (I'm feebly attempting to shake my fist. Matt appears un-phased.) By the way my friend, whose name I won't mention in case the ladies in her PTA read this blog, did not blog comment me the following, because she likes to pretend to be demure. As if. She e-mailed me and suggested that since it was MY software it should be called Max Dick taste.

So if you're wondering how I am, I am good. I am terrible. I am in love with so many things and I am so tired and so sad and so scared. Sometimes I want it to all be over soon and sometimes I want to pull the world to me with my hands on either side of it, draw it close and put my lips to it.

I want to stick my tongue in the mouth of the world.