Crazy Horse

In my research tonight, I've concluded that Crazy Horse had Asperger's. Read this quote:

Crazy Horse was known to have a peculiar personality characterized by aloofness, shyness, and aloneness. In Black Elk Speaks, Neihardt relays:

...he was a queer man and would go about the village without noticing people or saying anything. In his own teepee he would joke, and when he was on the warpath with a small party, he would joke to make his warriors feel good. But around the village he hardly ever noticed anybody, except little children. All the Lakotas like to dance and sing; but he never joined a dance, and they say nobody ever heard him sing. But everybody liked him, and they would do anything he wanted or go anywhere he said.^[13]

He is my Spirit Brother, for sure. Regardless, I'm learning a lot tonight. Crazy Horse, lead me home. Lol. :)

A Sign

With responsibilities increasing at work and at the same time, responsibilities at home increasing as The Memes deteriorates little by little, it was only a matter of time before I had what may be the worst nightmare of my life.

I dreamed I was living in the house we lived in when I was a teenager, but modernized. It was nice, and we had a big backyard, and my dad had a really nice play area put in with really green grass. The first part of my dream was of me and J (my son) walking home from somewhere through the abandoned orange grove that separated our neighborhood from the next. We approached our yard and I said, "It was really nice for Grandpa to build that before he died."

My son replied, "Yeah, even though we're a little too old for that now. It's still nice to come out here and sit."

As we walked past and up to the house, I looked back at the play area, and it was flooded, as though there'd been a deluge of rain.

In the house, I found my mom struggling to breathe as she tried to cut up an unfamiliar carrot type thing  with long green stalks and roots (she called it a strawberry, lol) for an old homeless lady. I immediately took over so she could rest, and as I cut up the thing, a neighbor I'd never met came in and started talking to me. He was dressed like...well, in Florida, people would say "redneck," and he had missing teeth. He looked like he hadn't shaved or showered in a few days.

He started talking about how beautiful C was (my 14 yr old daughter), and as he was talking, my business office manager from work walked in with Logan, my son's friend from Elementary school. I glanced around the house and was thankful it was clean. Then, it dawned on me what that lowlife guy was thinking about my daughter, and the knife I was cutting the strawberry with wasn't good enough.

I grabbed the most wicked looking scissors you have ever seen. More like rusty hedge clippers you could use with one hand. I ran up to him as he was strutting toward the door, yanked him by the collar, spun him around, and put the scissors to his throat. "If you EVER get near my daughter, let alone TOUCH her, I will use these to first cut off your dick (which is a word I do not say in real life), then slit your throat, and then lop off your head."

He probably didn't know what "lop" meant, but he got the idea and ran away.

I went back inside to finish cutting the "strawberry" and to entertain my business office manager while I tried to figure out why she was at my house and being so nice.

Then, one of the most terrible things in the world that could ever happen, happened. And this morning, with it so vivid and fresh in my mind, I write with tears in my eyes and wonder if I can even write it.

Logan runs in the house, screaming that J was hit by a car while walking home from the bus. As I rush to go out, my ex-boyfriend from two years ago, Kelly (who I'm still friends with but haven't seen in several months) rushes in with J wrapped in a blanket. He's crying, and I start crying too as he unwraps the top part of the blanket to reveal my son, who looks much younger than 13, limp and lifeless. His head rolled sort of unnaturally to the side, and deep inside, I knew he was dead. But I screamed, "Is he alive?! Is he alive?!" I looked at his chest, which was still--not breathing. And I rushed forward, ready to do CPR and to breathe life into him. And then I woke up.

It was awful. I immediately knew why I dreamed this. I'm trying to do too much, and it's a warning to slow down. I'm staying late at work, working full time, but still not receiving full time pay or benefits despite multiple promises that it's coming, and trying to help everyone else when I need to concentrate my efforts more at home.  The sad thing is that Kelly was the one that brought J in. Kelly was more of a father figure to J than J's own father, and I suspect that's why he was there.

So, this morning, I'm trying to calm my racing heart and making plans to cut my work schedule until I get paid what I'm worth. Maybe it will take a week of me going home early for them to realize how much I do.

Sometimes, I'm appalled at the medical field, and how quickly people are judged and labeled. How patients become "problems" simply because they're hurting or lonely (often both), and don't know what else to do. It's no wonder my phone rings off the hook all day. I've been told more than once that I'm the only one who really listens to them, and I'm the only one who gets things done for them.

Where has all the empathy and compassion gone?

I'm starting to believe that if everyone had Asperger's, the world would be a nicer place...

So CLOSE

I didn't blog yesterday because I was too excited in my research. I feel the verge of a huge breakthrough coming. I do have a partner, and that person is a genius. He or she has done an incredible amount of research and I just throw my odd ideas into the mix, and somehow, we are making huge progress to our 100%, no doubt about it, solve. And I don't say that lightly, because I still believe that until we have that chest in our hands, we are wrong.

We don't have a spot yet, but I believe we are in the final stages of connecting the dots, and we have vowed not to share anything with anyone, so please don't ask.

I'm so excited I can hardly stand it. And my partner is a good person who truly deserves this as much as I think I do. I think Forrest would be proud and content if we found it. And I don't think my partner would object to having a huge party at the end of it all at our expense to honor EVERYONE who worked so hard, and to honor Forrest, too.

I'm still reading Dal's blog, but I'm biting my tongue on commenting too much.

And I think if we do find that treasure, we will probably move on to another treasure to find. Maybe in the Superstition Mountains. Lol.

I know my life will change, and I know I will definitely devote more time exploring with my kids. I think it would be awesome to start a non-profit program to take kids with Asperger's or autism on short excursions to special places like Forrest has shown us. If it affected me and my son so greatly, it will affect others, too. And it would make my heart VERY happy to see the happiness and newfound hope on some weary parents' faces.

Because there is no greater joy than seeing a child who struggles with life laugh.

The History of My Chase

I just thought I'd share a little bit of my chase history.

I'd heard about the book when it first came out, and I thought it was very cool, and something I wanted to look into, but at that point in my life, tornadoes were ripping me apart from every angle, and my mind was spinning so hard I could barely put one foot in front of the other, much less concentrate on a story.

But life is funny that way. If you keep putting one foot in front of the other, you will walk out of the storm and bask in the sunshine, if you're like me. I know some people who tend to run full blast out of one storm and right into another. And others, when they manage to emerge from the storm, they never really dry off, but instead choose to remain wet with self pity and a sense of entitlement.

It's all about adopting a "peaceful warrior" mentality. I have Viking ancestry, and I use that knowledge to fight on when things go South. Bad days are just regular days that take an extra effort. Like the Vikings--when they encountered a storm at sea, they just rowed a little harder.

Anyway, eventually I was able to start really looking at the poem and the book, but I was way behind everyone else, and I was a classic newbie on Dal's blog with my dam WWWH, my weird theories on Photoshop, my thinking that Oreo's meant badgers (they still could mean that, as I haven't checked that spot out thoroughly yet). Oh, I came up with some doozies, and I still do.

The Asperger's and ADD add fuel to that fire that constantly burns in my mind. My main problem now is sticking with one theory until I've followed it all the way through before being distracted with a new theory. I think I need a higher dose of Vyvanse, but I already take the highest allowed. Lol. At least I can focus long enough to have a lot of fun.

Then, for about a year, things got tough for a bit, then really busy, so I couldn't work on the poem too much.

When I returned, it was like I'd matured a lot and started to see everything new. That's when I came close enough to a solve to take my son on a trip to Colorado to search. You can read that awesome adventure on Dal's blog. Best time of my life. I can't wait to go again!

But I do want my golden, 100% spot. I do feel like I deserve it, as do many others that also rightly deserve it. I've spent countless hours making charts and diagrams, poring over maps and Google Earth.  I've searched and scoured the Internet for endless hours.

I'm in the middle of a solve now, the most promising yet, and today's SB on Dal's site confirms I *may* be heading in the right direction.

We will see, though. I just want to go exploring again, no matter what I find. :)

The Complaining Hour

It's 6:30 am, and I'm almost ready for what I call, "The Complaining Hour."

As soon as The Memes hears me in the kitchen, she gets out of bed. She thinks that if I'm awake, she should be, too. But for her, it's Prime Time. As I wake up with some PopTarts and Coke Zero, I catch up on Dal's blog (the only other treasure blog I frequent), and listen to The Memes complain. To those of you who were readers of my old blogs (which seems like eons ago), you all know this. I'm just reminding you that it's still a daily "thing."

Today, she is complaining that:

1. She was shorted three Prednisone pills from Walgreens. I guarantee they are either in her pill bag or in the "Never Land" of Tic Tacs, pills, candy, and who knows what else under her recliner.

2. My older brother only calls during Judge Judy and he does it on purpose because he knows it's her favorite show.

3. Gucci the cat isn't eating oceanfish anymore. When we got him as a kitten, he ate everything. Then, The Memes took over feeding him, and now he supposedly eats only Fancy Feast Oceanfish. So, even though there are stacks of cat food in the pantry that he "won't eat," I started buying only the oceanfish. But now he won't even eat that.

I said, "Well, I guess he'll starve." She thinks I'm incredibly mean, but really, the cat will eat anything when he's hungry. The problem is that she feeds him people food while I'm at work. He also has dry food in a bowl that mysteriously disappears over the course of a day. The food, I mean. ;)

Oh, I could just go on and on. I don't want this blog to be my "complaining hour." At least, the ghost activity seems to have calmed down. It's been a while since she's mentioned "him."

Today, we have a new PA and a new medical assistant starting at work. So, I'm on the schedule to show the medical assistant the computer software and the physical therapy stuff. That will take some of Tuesday's and Thursday's load off me.

My treasure hunt thought of the day: Scott W, I read your comment, and you could be right. I'm in the middle of what I think could be a major discovery, and am trying to put it together.  I am keeping it very quiet. Only one other person knows, and we may make the trip together if the site works out to 100%.  And even if it doesn't, the place is so intriguing that I would want to visit it anyway. :)

The thing I'm learning is that 99% isn't good enough. For it to be right, you need to know EXACTLY where to go. You will know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you're right. There will be no "if it's there." It will definitely be there, if you know the correct spot. Anything less is just a guess, educated or not.

Every time I find a potential spot, I ask myself, "Is that a 'go with confidence' spot? Am I 100% sure?" If not, I keep searching, either for confirmation that I have the right place, or for a new spot.

Since I have so much to catch up on, I may post some more thoughts tonight. But here's a picture to make you think...

In the Beginning...

So, I'm starting a new blog. The last time I actively blogged was over a year ago, but since then, I've become pretty actively involved in the hunt for Forrest Fenn's treasure. Look it up if you have no idea what I'm talking about.

To start the blog, I want to introduce the cast of characters. I'll give just the basics now, and you'll learn more later.

Me, Mindy: I'm a forty-something young single mom of three kids. I have Asperger's and ADD, but have overcome many of the traits. I work full-time for an orthopedic surgeon, doing a little bit of everything from X-rays (I'm ARRT Registered) to coordinating surgery, to a little bit  physical therapy, to patient education, to coding. I love my job.

I'm a multi-published author, with 8 novels published under a pen name. I've written a lot of non-fiction under of my real name. I've been published in well-known publications, and can honestly call myself an author, as I have been paid for my writing. I have also worked as a paid editor for large Internet publishing companies. One day I hope to start writing for profit again, but that may be a ways down the road.

The Memes: Two years ago, I took my mom into my home to live with us. She has end stage COPD, and she can be a little (sometimes a lot) evil. Or crazy. Often both. It is a monumental task working full time and caring for her and three kids, but God gives me strength and patience.The Memes thinks there is a ghost in our house.

The X:  In this case, not the X that marks the spot, but my ex-husband. He was an Air Force officer, has a Master's in Finance, and was highly respected in work and in his prestigious, wealthy family.
He molested my daughter, his step-daughter, when she was 11 years old. She kept it a secret for 4 years because she didn't want to see her little brother and sister lose their dad. When she finally told me, I confronted him, he admitted it, I reported it to get my daughter and myself and the two little ones counseling, he was taken from our home that day, was court-martialed, went to prison for a year, was on probation for a year, and now makes six figures in Santa Barbara, CA. We don't have a whole lot to do with him anymore, although he still keeps in contact with his kids.

A: My 20 year old daughter, who lives with me at home. Because of what my ex did to her, she went through a VERY rough time. Because of low self-esteem, she became involved in the wrong crowd, and became addicted to Roxies. We had a few very tough years of rehab, jail, and more jail. She is now 2 years clean, works full time, and hopes to be back in college soon. I'm thankful she is alive and well today. God is good, and merciful and full of grace.

C: My 14 year old daughter. She's in high school, in AP classes, and enrolled in the schools medical program. She's a pretty good kid, but she's presently going through some typical teenage angst where she hibernates in her room, listens to music, texts nonstop, and  forgets to do her chores. She's not much trouble, though, and is very caring and responsible. For Christmas, she donated her monetary gifts to St. Jude's Children's Hospital, without any prompting from me or anyone else.

J: My 13 year old son. He's very loving, has mild selective mutism, and is a genius. He's picked out his college, his career path, and basically, his life. He wants to be an astrophysicist, or a rocket scientist. He just got accepted into the IB program at Spruce Creek High School. He's an amazing kid.

Zuri: Our quiet, mildly fat, black and white cat who pretty much hides out in J's room.

Gucci: Our 1 yr old male black cat who likes to pee on everything, meow at all hours of the night, and generally make my life miserable. One day I may just leave the door open and "help" him outside. Lol. He is a beautiful cat, though.

Monet: Our newest addition. She's about 13 weeks old, and is a black/silver toy poodle. She pees on stuff less than the cat, but she's still a wild little thing with a TON of energy.

So, that's our family. Starting with  my next post, I hope to give you all a glimpse into my daily life, with all its not so funny hilariousness, and a glimpse into my hunt for the treasure, with some of my thoughts about that. Stay tuned...:)

Here's some pics: