July 24 (or is it the 25^th?)... I'm not dead, chagrin be damned;)

I'm still here, just hugely busy. All is okay, but I'm frazzled at how many things are going on right now. RV shopping, my anniversary, tons of new animals being dumped by neighbors all of a sudden, a pregnancy possibility that ended up being a false alarm, intolerable heat here combined with our A/C going out, and a few other things have made my days more frenetic than peaceful, but everything's being handled, so I really can't complain as much as I usually like to.

Quick note- expect to see all of these pages disappear soon, replaced temporarily by animal adoption pages, info, etc. I'm most likely going to place an ad in the local Dallas and Fort Worth papers soon in order to adopt out my foster kittens and a couple of new dogs who've shown up recently, and I'm going to use this website to give all the information on them, as well as collect information on potential adopters. I'll be back, though, so don't worry! There's just too much in this world I have to bitch about for me not to be back!;)

Love you guys, hope you're all well, and if I haven't replied to your emails, please forgive me, but know I've read them, and will always want to see your addy in my mailbox!

July 01, 2008- A Furmom's Rant:

As I sit here and wait for the convenience food God that is Pizza Hut to arrive, I'll kill rare spare time by posting what I can here, most of it, if not all, being boring:

-The city code passed last week, the one involving the number of animals a person can have. I freaked out at first, but last night and today, I miraculously managed to make a couple of contacts, find a couple of loopholes that make me breathe a little better. I also had a good friend offer me some help yesterday, so If I do end up being told that the city demands I get rid of perfectly healthy and happy animals I have here, I now have more than one avenue to successfully follow in order to keep the guys I've raised for years here. And I shouldn't be saying this, but one of those miraculous contacts I recently made is an 'insider', who can tell me if I'm in danger, and who called in to put me there. Just felt like I had to say that because there are a couple, maybe two couples, of fanficker people who hate what I've said here enough about them to possibly get even with me via an 'anonymous' phone call to the city of Dallas. They probably wouldn't, because I don't think they suck that much, but, hey, Fanfickers Who Hate What I've Said About You, if you should decide to suck that much by trying to punish my furkids in order to get to me, go ahead, 'cause I'm ready to deal with it head on, legally, financially, and mentally... plus, I'll know it was you (trust me; I will), and I will basically return upon you a thousand times more hell... believe it. Hate to say this about myself, but when the welfare of my loved ones, two or four-legged, is involved, all it takes is just a hint that someone might do harm to them to send me into this kind of calculatedly vengeful mode that, in past experience, has never ended up good for the person fucking with my loved ones. And with age, I've only gotten better;)

I realize that I sound uberly defensive here, offputtingly so, but I am sick and tired of worrying about whether or not I technically qualify as a 'collector' or 'hoarder', and I am even more pissed off about the people who ultimately have the power to decide and enforce that, Animal Control officers I've dealt with regularly in this neighborhood, regularly seeing that they just want a paycheck, don't really want to help anyone. Hell, the single reason I have so many animals now is because in the beginning, I reached out to animal control, not to mention other shelters around here, hoping for help, it didn't come, which made things my problem and my problem alone... take them in, or watch them die. Guess which I chose?

Here's a little tidbit of history involving the local animal authorities that'll give you an idea as to why I have so many animals at my house now... animals still alive after all these years, no matter what I have to do to make it that way:

-1994... a dog shows up in my yard, abdomen distended, the rest of her skin and bones, I give her water, which she drinks happily, but when I try to offer her food, first dry, which she refuses, then canned, which she sniffs at, licks a couple of times, then some chicken breast I'm sure she'll eat a little of, yet she doesn't, I call the SPCA, telling them the situation, that she just showed up, is very sick, needs urgent attention, and that we don't have the money to take this stray dog in for treatment. Important to say here.... this was back when Eric wasn't a truck driver, and when our total income wasn't even a fourth of what we make now. At this time, we didn't even have a piece of jewelry or anything valuable to hock in order to get this dog some sort of relief.   We also didn't have alot of pets at this point, nor did I have the knowledge I have now. 

Forgot to mention, I didn't get through to a real SPCA person. I got their answering machine and left a message.

I then called Animal Control, who also gave me a recorded message, then left a message of my own. I didn't even have a computer at that time, so the only resources I had left were to call the local animal shelters listed in the yellow pages, none of which answered the phone directly. The next morning, the dog died in my arms, we buried her in the backyard, and about sixty seconds after Eric and I came back inside, one of the rescue people finally called back, we told them the whole story, they told us they couldn't have done anything, anyway, and here's the clincher... Animal control finally called us back, and bitched us out for burying the dog on our property, because it's against city code. We gave that poor dog a full ceremony, prayers and all, and the city told us that what we should have done was put the animal next to our garbage, call them, and let them pick it up in a few days. What the FUCK?????

-1995... A group of rogue chows owned by a neighbor are let out willingly by her daily, and on a cool spring day, this pack of dogs breaks in a neighbor's window, because they see a kitten on the other side, grab the kitten, pull it outside, and kill it. The neighbor is beside herself in grief, I call Animal Control to complain, nobody shows up, neither she nor I hear from them again, and the neighbor with the violent chows moves away, anyway.

1997... A stray black cat with a baby shows up in our yard. She seems fine for the first week, eats the food I put out for her, her baby seems fine, but a little over a week into her moving onto our property, this momma cat starts salivating, becoming sensitive to light, hiding under the house next door, leaving her baby out in the open, etc., and I start freaking out. See, we'd seen an increase of possums, bats, etc., in this area in that time period, so given her symptoms, I started to think, 'OMG< this could be rabies!!!!!'. As much as I wanted to 'save' her, I was so freaked out about the rabies-like symptoms, I called animal control that summer day, told the operator the situation, the symptoms I was seeing, and he actually agreed that this was probably a rabid cat, but that I was shit out of luck. Yup, this man proceeded to tell me that Animal Control would not come out and contain this animal themselves, and yes, went on to tell me that I would have to catch this animal myself and bring it in, whether I got bitten or not. I remember asking him over and over again if he was sure, and he kept telling me in his thick foreign accent that I did indeed have to bring this animal in myself. I hung up in disbelief, cried for about 15 minutes, and guess what? I put on thick rubber gloves I had here that I bought for applying furniture stripper, put her baby in the house in a carrier, in case he had it, too, though he wasn't symptomatic, then went to the neighbor's house, coaxing them into letting me get under their house so I could catch this cat.

Even longer story short, this momma cat came out on her own, I caged her, called a nearby vet, told them the whole story, they agreed to look at her, and as I type this, I am happy to report that that black cat is now named Mommy Lemia, did not have rabies, but had other medical issues that were dealt with, is fat, healthy, and a senior citizen now. And her baby is now named Mister, lives in Mineola with my brothers and mom, no thanks to anyone official.

2003- My neighbors abandon two of their dogs, load them up into a car and drive them out into the country, throw them out, come home, forget about them, I notice these dogs are gone, ask the neighbors, they lie, say the dogs ran away...

Two weeks later, these two dogs show back up, the neighbors come out, freak out that these dogs are back, admitting in front of me their wonder/amazement that these two dogs found their way back, me realizing what really happened in hearing their words. The dumped dogs remain in their original front yard, me feeding them when their asshole owners don't.

Days later, I come outside to see Animal Control rounding these dogs up, and for once, and for once, I can see why. These dogs are barking furiously, charging people who come anywhere near them... duh, I wonder why they're so defensive???

Anyway, I beg Animal Control to release these animals to me directly, they won't, and instead, I watch the handler damned near orgasm over the sounds these dogs make as they're lassoed and thrown into the waiting caged van. I'm dying while watching this, make a last-ditch effort and approach the van's driver's side door, begging the woman behind the wheel to at least tell me what I can do to save these animals. She caves a little finally, gives me a little info, but also tells me that unless I'm the owner, there ain't much I can do to save these guys, and that if I can't get the owners to claim them in a couple of days, they're as good as dead.

I hang onto that hope until the owners come home, I frantically tell them what happened, and they tell me with no mistake that they have no intention of claiming them. I freak yet again, call Animal Control, who once again will NOT help me, but thanks to the internet, I am lucky enough to find an animal welfare group who steps in and clears these two 'neighbors' of mine to be freed from the death penalty, provided I vaccinate and neuter them both, and I would gladly have paid five times what it actually did cost to see the same outcome.

I'm running out of energy, but trust me, for each story I typed above, there are at least three equally important ones to exemplify why I both have as many animals as I do, and why the officials now trying to tell me that what they once said I could do is now something I can't do. Every single animal I have in this house at this moment is an animal that nobody, including the people paid to give a damn, ever gave a damn about, even when I begged them to. I have a cat whose colon and bladder I have emptied by hand for the last six years at least, resorting to such physical therapy only after investing about three grand in vets who all gave up on her, yet she's still her, still alive, still happy, still healthy, provided I take a small amount of my day to compensate for that one little part of her body that doesn't work the way it should.

I have two dogs still roaming happily around in my backyard who vets assured me would be dead two years ago.

And I have six dogs who, at different times, all lay before me in their puppy stages, dying from massive Parvo infection, the vets telling me to euthanize, but with a little lack of sleep and a lot of research into both Western and Holistic medicine, all six are alive and thriving now when Animal Control would've put all of them down.

So, with my tiredness making me draw this to a close, at this point, I don't care what you call me... saint, rescuer, hoarder, collector, savior, well-intended catmom, etc. The only reason I became whatever I am is because everyone around me at the time was anything BUT what I am now. And sorry, but no matter what the new law says about me now, I'm still not anything less than what I needed to be.

Cryptic, I know, but that's it, I'm tired, and I'm logging off now. No apologies.

June 21, 2008- Oh, hell, I'm still alive;)

My God, it's been a long time! It's not that I haven't been online; I just haven't had time to do more than read a few emails, save the rest in folders to read later, take care of a couple other errands, finally finding myself too exhausted at that point to type out an entry. I've missed you folks, appreciate the emails from so many of you, and promise I'll do my best to catch you up with my busy yet boring life right now:

-The kittens are about two weeks away from being ready for adoption, and at this point, I'm not as sad about them leaving me soon as I am relieved to see these hyperactive little shits torment someone else for the rest of their lives instead of me;) I swear, these six little females must somehow be getting their little paws on meth or crack when I'm not looking. I go into their room to play, feed them, whatever, and the second I step in and close the door, kittens come flying from every direction, attaching themselves to my ankles with sharp teeth and claws, climbing my skirt or pants in hopes of elevating themselves high enough to reach my chest area, where their real goal of shredding my breasts can be achieved;) Naw, seriously, I'm just happy to see them doing so well, happy to see the energy, the playfulness, and the affection. I will miss them, but I also know they're going to bless whichever homes I choose for them:)

-Dora the pit bull is doing famously, btw. She's taken to jumping in the car whenever Eric and I go anywhere, sitting in the backseat, with the seatbelt strapped on her, and while one of us goes into whatever place we drove to, the other stays behind in the car and sits with Dora:) I still can't believe how peacefully this dog co-exists with other dogs and even the stray cats who eat here every day. I can literally put out one pile of food for the stray cats, then put another pile of Dora food not even a foot away, and in seconds, four stray cats and one pit bull can be seen eating side by side with absolutely no growls, hisses, or problems of any kind. Unbelievable.

-Speaking of the animal thing, I'm just about fucked now. Our city council is about to pass a new city code/law that restricts home owners to six animals total, when before, there was no limit, provided you stayed sanitary and paid the city fees. I have more than six, the new code says nothing about whether it's retroactive or not, so expect to see on the news or Animal Planet's 'Animal Cops' the story of the standoff that happened when officials tried to confiscate a certain redneck's animals. I'm actually not completely kidding. If this new law results in the city trying to take away my 'over quota' animals I've had here for ten years minimum, have loved and cared for, doted on, given a good life to, added an extra thousand square feet to my house for, all just so they can take them to either the SPCA or their city shelter and put many of them to sleep just because of their age or special needs status, then I will have a huge problem with this kind of hypocrisy, and I will fight it with everything I've got. Think about it... does it make more sense to let animals I've kept alive and happy for at least a decade stay in their environment or remove them and put half of them to sleep because of a retarded mixture of city law and budget concerns? I guess I technically qualify as a 'collector' because I have so many animals. Collectors are, you know, those folks you see on your local news whose home got raided and had their shitloads of animals confiscated, the camera showing footage of crap, sickly animals, loads of litters born due to the collector not spaying or neutering, cages loaded to the gills with pent up animals, etc. Except though my house ain't particularly clean, the cleanest parts of my house are where my animals live, play, eat, exist, not a single cage exists here, most of my females are spayed (I know, I'm working on getting all the girls spayed), and all of my males are neutered, so there are no unwanted litters being born under this roof. If someone gets sick, they get treated immediately by either me or a vet, depending on how serious the symptoms are. Every animal here gets Frontline flea treatment regularly, every outdoor animal gets heartworm preventative, every indoor and outdoor animal gets wormed, fed a quality diet, fresh water, tons of love, and anything else I can give them that makes them feel as good as I can make them feel. So, sorry, but to think that this new law/code that's about to be passed may make it legal for some total strangers to come into my house and take these creatures I've spent years keeping happy, alive, and as healthy as possible away from me pisses me off. There's so much more I have to say here, but do me a favor and send me some vibes that the only animals I lose here soon do so because I personally found good homes for them, okay?

-Still doing the motorhome search, and I am very happy at what we've been finding so far. We're not going to buy until roughly late August, but from looking at the what the RV market has right now, I think we're going to be able to find the perfect motorhome when the time comes. I'm almost tempted to get a Class A diesel, just so we can convert it to run on used cooking oil;)

-Had several confrontations with my mother since I last wrote. Ever since her complete lack of 'being there' when I went to the hospital, I've just kind of laid loose on her, and surprisingly, I've felt very little guilt about it, guys, so please don't give me the lectures some of you gave when I first wrote about this. I know her, I've lived her; you don't/haven't. Anyway, a bit of the confrontations have been over Obama, my mother supporting him completely and fully, not really being able to answer me when I ask her specifically why she supports him. In her best response, the most she could say was 'Well, he's better than McCain'. Uh, okay, I'll give you that, but it just ain't enough. And this woman was once a delegate to the DNC????? The rest of the confrontations, sadly, have been me bringing up the issues I've had with her performance as a mother throughout my life, which I honestly did not like bringing up, despite how true my expressed feelings were and are. I didn't like bringing them up because I know the world she lives in, the world comprised of her remembering only the good things she's done, the world that completely denies the overwhelmingly bad and selfish decisions she's made as a mother.

I'm not a mother, not to human babies, anyway, but there's still that part of me that recognizes how a mother can be extremely sensitive to acknowledging her mistakes, and I can understand how badly a mother may need to be told by her children that she was perfect in her role. As a result, I have spent so many recent years enabling my mother's perception of what was, ignored what could've been, had she been less selfish, refrained from saying anything that would shatter her take on the way I personally was raised.

But when the last ER visit happened, when I reached out to my mother, and she clearly wasn't there, all the enabling went out the window, and all of my self-worth came raging forward, despite how much it might hurt her feelings. Nope, it was time for me to tell her outright about the many things that have affected me, some of which I'll list here, only so that those of you folks defending my mother just because you're a mother will understand that she is SO not like you:

• Whenever any of her children did well at something, my mother would find the negative in the situation, and mention it. As an example, when my brother Tommy joined his school's soccer league, she went on and on about how he'd just hurt himself and if he didn't hurt himself, he'd never be able to really do anything with a soccer scholarship. When he got hurt and had to quit, she sounded almost thrilled at the prospect. And when both of my brothers dropped out of high school, she didn't do a single thing to try and make them go back. My sister dropped out, too, and my mother didn't say a thing about it. However, years later, when my sister went back to get her GED, then went on to college and made the Dean's List, my mom had a complaint in hand for every piece of encouragement she gave my sister. And me? The better I did in school, the more extracurricular events I was involved in while living with my dad, she first played down, but ultimately tried to take credit for when she realized I wasn't going to fall for it. When I graduated in the top of my class, she wasn't there, but when I went to college and had a hard time the first year, she was definitely there, telling me that maybe college wasn't for me, that maybe I should do something else that didn't require a degree.

• My mother managed a still-now-popular bar and grill here in Dallas, and back in the seventies, when I was just a little kid, she would often come home just a couple of hours before I had to get up for school, coming in and waking me up early in her drunken talkative state, telling me she loved me completely in one sentence, then going on to tell me what a bastard my father was/is, going into detail about their relationship and why she feels he let her down, why she needed to get a divorce, completely thinking about her feelings far more than she did about mine, a ten or eleven year old little girl who idolized both her parents, and who really didn't like being awakened early just to hear unflattering stories about my father.

• And this point may be disturbing to some, so I'm warning you in advance... One Friday late night back in the late 70's, my mom came home, went to my bed, woke me up, and slurringly told me how much she loved me, how special I was, and that she wanted to spend some one on one time with me the next morning, asked me what I wanted to do, I told her that I wanted to go and play in the schoolyard across the street, she said okay, to wake her up early, and with that, we both went to sleep. I woke up early, my memory tells me that it was somewhere between seven and eight a.m., I tried to wake Mom up so that we could start our one on one time, she refused to wake up, so I gave up for a bit, went to the kitchen and got some cereal, then watched some T.V. After another hour passed, I went in again to wake her, she wouldn't, and even me at that age knew that this was the kind of sleep only people who drink go through, gave up on hoping she would get up and honor her promise, and decided to go across the street to my elementary school's playground and play by myself.

That morning, I was abducted by two young men, who grabbed me from the playground, threw me in their station wagon, and proceeded to drive around from location to location, molesting me in unspeakable ways at every place they stopped, only letting me go when the child that I was was somehow able to brilliantly convince them that I 'wouldn't tell', with the help of them telling me they knew where I lived and that if I told, they'd kill my familiy. When they dropped me off, I found my way to a seven eleven, where I told the people there that I was lost, needed to find home, and where a good-hearted couple buying gas there offered to take me to my address. Funny thing; what I remember most about that particular moment is that this couple drove a Volkswagen Bug. Despite what I'd just been through, my memory involves more of riding in a Bug for the first time ever than the violation I'd just been through for hours.

-Anyway, long story short, when these good Samaritans drove me home, when we pulled up to my house, the yard and driveway choc full of police cars, news vans, and gawking spectators, when my mother and brothers saw me alive and somewhat well, they collapsed in joy. I was quickly hugged deeply and whisked into the house, where detectives immediately started interrogating me (turns out a neighbor saw the two guys grab me and throw me into their car, yet said nothing until they had to). I, remembering the threats my molesters made concerning my family, insisted that I'd just tried to walk to a schoolmate's house and had gotten lost, said the witness who saw me get snatched up was lying, and that everyone should just go away. They did, and the last memory of that night was of my mother giving me a bath, me flinching every time she touched my skin with a sponge, her eyes knowing what really happened, but her vocal chords never saying it out loud, never ever wanting to say it out loud... 'I should have been there with you, Paula.' Saying anything like that out loud just would've never been convenient for her.

There's so much more to this particular part of the story of my life, but in essence, it's about Mom not being there when she said she would, and it's about her still not acknowledging, much less apologizing, for what happened as a result of her not being there... in fact, to this day, she's expecting me and my siblings to tell her that she's been the model mother. My siblings have their own stories to tell... but I have a feeling their versions will never admit as much as mine do. That's their thing; I personally don't have the time or energy to protect anyone anymore.

And though there was a wealth more I wanted to talk about, I'm too tired to continue. Broads, I love you... Guys, I love you just as much, and the rest of you, if you come back after this entry, I will sooooo be up your butt with respect;)

May 28, 2008- A Quaint Little Mix of Neighbors and Stuff-

Had an incident with the neighbors last week, and rather than re-tell the whole thing, I'll just paste a copy of the email I sent my Broads when it happened:

Got up just as Eric was getting home, and things are fine for about ten minutes until we're walking dogs out back, and during conversation, he says 'When did you tell the neighbors they could have your tiles for their fence?'. 

Long story short, I have some expensive tiles, discontinued and impossible to replace, that I've been saving to tile the landing area of our staircase.  I haven't gotten around to installing them, so they've been stacked neatly on our property, unmistakably on our property, until I can get to it.  They're very distinctive, several embossed rectangular tiles with a swirly design on them, and several matching much larger square tiles.

Anyway, when Eric says this, I immediately freak and say 'My fancy tiles!!????', he looks at me, knowing now that I didn't give anything to anyone, nods almost as if afraid, and I take off like a bat out of hell towards our driveway, where the fence our neighbors have been working on is.  Sure enough, there are MY tiles, cemented in the crappiest way onto their cinderblock, there's no way these aren't my tiles, I go apeshit at the absolute boldness of these people to come into my yard and take my tiles, much less put them up in an area they know I'm going to see, go to their door, and pound on it, Eric behind me now, telling me to calm down while I'm ignoring him.

Nobody, to Eric's brief relief is home, and this is where I go a little crazy.  I apologize in advance.

I grabbed my hammer, which, as if this was an omen, was about ten feet away, and for the next half hour, I tore each and every one of my tiles off of their damned fence.  More of an omen... not a one of my tiles broke, even though they were cemented on. 

Just as I'm done, one of the men of the house drives up, I meet him in his driveway waving a cement-covered tile in my hand, I don't scream at him, but I'm obviously pissed, ask him who took my tiles, what made him and his friends think they could take my tiles from my property, tell them that a real man would respectfully ask for something rather than take it, he completely folds, begs my forgiveness, freaking out that I'm going to turn him in for being illegal, and I wrap up the conversation by giving him a way-too-psycho stare, telling him I'm more than pissed off, he should've asked, and even then I'd have told him no, but given him something else we have he could use to finish off his fence, and to never do this again, unless he wants me to really react. And as he was slinking off into his house to hide from me, I once again told him to never do this again!

I know this might sound like over-reaction from me to a few of you, but I just blew up over this one.  Don't get me wrong... I didn't get violent (other than with my hammer on their fence), didn't scream, but I was mad enough about this invasion of my property, not to mention the fact that this isn't the first offense, to have a raised enough voice and attitude that scared the hell out of this 240 pound man I took it all out on.  These are the same neighbors I took Nigel from, btw, and they have on more than one occasion been inconsiderate, so this is the straw that broke the camel's back.

Anyway, had to get that out.  I have my tiles back, they're soaking in a tub of solution so that I can remove the cement and hopefully save them, probably will, but I just can't get over how anyone could so blatantly take something from a neighbor, then so blatantly use it.  It just dumbfounds me. If I were building a wood fence and ran out of slats, then saw a gorgeous pile of them stacked in my neighbor's yard, I wouldn't even THINK about walking into their yard and taking them.  I just don't get what some people think sometimes, but hey, at least me and my hammer fixed it for now;)

... Since the above email, the neighbors have avoided me like the plague, with the exception of Stella, the girl I've mentioned before here, the newest neighbor with the past she doesn't even think about hiding, the one who reminds me so much of Donna, yet who I wish Donna was more like. Anyway, Stella knocks on my door most nights, wanting me to come outside and smoke a cigarette with her, which really means that she just wants to talk girl talk, vent about her life, etc. And believe it or not, I go, and we usually have a great chat. For me, that's unbelievable... I'd have been sick of girl chat with any other female neighbor by now, but Stella's one of a kind, and so far I've enjoyed her.

• I'm starting to wonder if I should start stockpiling barrels of dehydrated food, bottles of water, and tanks of gasoline to prepare for what seems to be coming. This economy, this government, hell, this entire world is scaring the shit out of me right now. Beyond knowing what's going on, I can just feel this huge change taking place around me, and the feeling isn't good. Never in my life have I seen so many people I care about struggling like they never have before, and what bothers me most is that on the news, I'm still seeing puffy and insignificant news pieces littering my screen, here and there pieces about how much worse things just got today, yet rarely a single piece about what our leaders are doing to fix this. Straight up, I'm more and more grateful as each day passes lately that Eric and I don't have children.

• Quick mention re: the fan fic gossip... yes, I consider the sources reliable, and yes, I'm still not naming names.

• I completely ignored American Idol this year... and I am convinced doing so added an extra ten years to my lifespan;) Sorry, but this year just struck me as nuns-playing-bridge-boring. I don't care which David won, don't care what tour or CD is coming out soon, and I sure as hell don't give a flying purple shit if American Idol returns for another season. Huge change in opinion for me, being that I was the ultimate fan back when Taylor Hicks was a competitor. Maybe it's how he was treated since his win that jaded me, maybe not. All I know now is that if I'm flipping through channels next season, and the only choice I have in viewing is American Idol or Dutch Oven Cooking with Sven Svidelmyer on some God-forsaken cable-access channel, you can bet your ass I'm going to be learning a lot about making food in huge iron pots.

• Panic attacks... still have them, by the way. They're better, though, and the difference causing the improvement is that a long list of negative tests, continuing doctor visits, and the like are there for me to think about when I suddenly become convinced I'm about to die. Though it still sucks to have my heart race suddenly, my mind buzz, and my body go haywire, it sucks less when I stop, breathe, and remember the EKG's, chest x-rays, stress tests, and myriad of doctors who've all told me that my heart is okay. What does still suck, though, is how many of them have scratched their heads when trying to figure out what is causing my symptoms. They love to tell me I'm not dying, but they hate to admit that they don't know why more often than not, I feel like I am. Where in the fuck is House when you need him????

• Ghosts and ghostly experiences... they're still around, and I'm sorry I don't talk about them much. I suppose I'm guilty of getting so used to them, they end up being at the back of my thoughts, so when I write here, by the time I get worn out and stop writing, they get left out. In a nutshell, the 'stink' ghost I've written about before here is still around, though rarely, I still can't sleep upstairs alone much because I still feel like I'm being watched from the area my antique vanity is sitting in, Ginnie still comes in dreams sometimes (she's rarely in the Baker anymore, though), and one of these days, I'll write in detail about the dream I had about Roxann, the murder victim I am completely convinced just recently made her journey to the light. For those of you who read this entry and think I'm nuts, go right on ahead and think so. I'm not writing this for you, anyway;)

• We're still looking at motorhomes, have gotten some uberly excellent advice from a good friend and her husband, found one we really wanted, went out to go test drive it this Saturday, and arrived only to find out it had just been sold. Oh, well... what's meant to be, etc. We're still looking, and I have faith we're going to end up with the right one:)

• Dora the dog is doing brilliantly. She lives in our front yard now, is healthy, happy, and if I can say anything that might sound like a bitch, it's that she requires sooooooo much exercise. To date, she's gone through four huge rawhide bones, seven plushie toys she's pulled the stuffing out of, and around a thousand sessions of tug of war/wrestling, all of which have left us exhausted and her begging for more. She's also taken a huge interest in the garden hose and sprinkler, dropping everything when she hears a faucet turn on and play-attacking the stream of water until she's drenched and her belly is bloated from H20 ingestion;) And the kittens? I can't remember if I mentioned it here, but we lost one of the kittens early on, most likely a result of placental insufficiency, but the remaining six are growing like weeds, are doing well along with their mom, and soon it's going to be time to find them homes. I both dread it and look forward to it this time!

• Obama or McCain? Hmmmmm.... we are so fucked, guys.

More to say, but as usual, not enough time to say it. I adore you guys, always have, always will:)

May 16, 2008- gossip, life, and a little more stuff-

1.- Right off the bat, let me spill, as carefully as I can, the fanfic gossip I heard awhile ago (I've gotten more emails begging me to tell already what I know), so here it is, two pieces of gossip from two separate yet equally reliable sources. The first is that a member of a certain fanfiction group I've been to before is not the person she claims to be. In fact, 'she' is a he, and has a weird history of joining all-female message boards, pretending to be a woman. Why? I don't know, but in any case, it's fucked up. And onto the juicier piece- an extremely reliable source I know talked with someone very close to a certain actor the fan fiction world has had a field day writing about, and according to what they tell me, said actor has had a problem with a couple of borderline stalkers, and... drumroll... one of them is someone most fanfickers at this actor's site know, or at least know of. This person has sent several letters, the latter of which became disturbing, and from what I'm told, this name is now on a 'watch' list. Final drumroll... to those of you who have an idea of what I'm talking about... it's shockingly not who you might first guess! And until I find out more that will either allow me to give more confident detail, or learn enough to dispel either rumor, you ain't getting any more of this story from me. But on the same note, I tend to believe this rumor, and trust me; I've been looking for information that'll lead me to either conclusion, at which point I'll post it here.

2.- Eric and I have made a recent decision to hold off looking for another house.  Instead, in this day and age of gas prices and oil crises, I think we're going to do the unthinkable and buy a motor home (we were thinking of a trailer/camper at first, but the HHR can't tow one).  Sounds crazy, but Eric wants to get out in the country more, I usually can't go because it's difficult to take the special needs animals with us, etc.  With a motorhome, I have plenty of room to take the animals I need to take, we can go to any area within 3 hours from here for a day or two any weekend we want, a different place every time, Eric gets his country escape, I get to not worry as much while gone, and it's a hell of a lot cheaper than buying a house in the country.  So, in a couple of months, it looks like we're going to take out some of our 401K, buy a decent-sized motorhome, and start taking weekend trips each month.  We've found a few models in each class that are all affordable, with decent mileage, and we'll also set up an expense account to cover stuff like gas,etc.  Also, I'm going to purchase a state park pass.  Anyway, in the meantime, I'm trying to research all there is to learn about used motorhomes so that when the time comes, we don't buy a dud;)  As for another house, we calculated that in about four years, we'll be entirely debt free and more able to really start looking for a second house.

3.-Allison, I miss you... and your writing!!!!!! Update, please?????

4.- Ariane, SEE ABOVE!!!;)

5.- Sue, SEE 3 AND 4!!!;)

6.- I'm disturbed that our local news channels, and the national ones, for that matter, have entirely forgotten about our whole polygamist dilemma here in Texas. I'm disturbed that most of the aid being dropped over Myanmar seemingly is being confiscated by the military/gov't., and is not being distributed to the cyclone victims, and I am also disturbed at the news footage I'm seeing of Chinese earthquake victims, mostly children, being pulled out of rubble, their rigor-mortised bodies stiffly being carried away hastily while the camera man keeps rolling, rather than throwing the goddamned camera down and lending an extra hand instead. What in the hell is happening to this world? I'm becoming more and more the Doomsday theorist every time I click on a news channel lately.

7.- To anyone who ever talked shit about my performance as a beta, do me a favor. Go to this address and take any of their tests:

http://www.grammarbook.com

A good friend sent me this link last week, I took their tests, and the most I missed on any of them, including the most difficult, was two questions. If you do better, by all means, Fancy, Lacy, and Fawn, anyone else... email me your results, and I'll print them here, along with my heartfelt retraction. But in the meantime? Blow me;)

Okay, gotta go. Was going to write more, but I think you all know how these rants go. I'm pooped, 'nuff said;)

Hell, I normally put the date here, but at this point, all I know is that it's April-

Another page of updates, if'n that's okay with you guys. Wait, today's the tenth, right? I'm too tired to change the title at this point;)

First thing... the entire tragedy with Zappa, my heart scare, etc. A few things happened with that afterwards, so rather than re-type the whole thing, I'm just going to paste a copy of an email I sent to my Catbroads about the whole thing, subject line 'Pardon the Rant, Broads':

But when the worst day ever for me (when Zappa died, Eric freaked out like I've never seen him do before, and I went to the hospital, convinced I was having a heart attack) happened, I emailed my mother when I got home, told her I was in a world of pain, pasted a copy of the original email I sent you all about what happened that day, and hoped she'd either call me or at least email me back, comfort me.  After several days, she didn't, so I emailed her again and simply said 'Mom, did you get my last email?  I'm just wondering.'

She wrote back this:

In a message dated 4/2/2008 9:35:08 P.M. Central Daylight Time, kn_doroth............ writes:

Yes, I got your last e-mail, I just didn't know how to respond. You
seemed so distraught! I couldn't think of anything that might make you
feel better, so I didn't say anything. Wrong decision, I guess.Hope by
now all is better, and your household is back to normal, whatever that
is. There's plenty to tal about: our new Texas Room, the garden (did you
do one this year?) the county Dem. convention I went to, my highschool
50th reunion in Austin, how beautiful Mineola is in April, etc. Albert
Pugh was just here for the weekend. He visits more thanyou do! We wish
you 2 would come for an over night stay soon, very soon!Please! I miss
you. We all love you both. Love, Mom

I'm sorry, but this broke my heart!  And her going on to talk about how great her life is going made me feel even worse.  So I wrote her back.  I responded with a restrained email, followed by a much more honestly pissed off one, so I'm enclosing both here, and even though I feel some guilt about 'telling my mom off', I'm just more sure that I did the right thing in saying something here.  I'm not asking you gals to tell me I'm right or wrong; this just really upset me, and I had to talk about it, so I both apologize and thank you for putting up with this email!

Ok, my first response to her email:

Jesus, Mom, I don't even know what to say.  I just thought I might be able to lean on my family for once during a hard time, hear a word of comfort or two, have them be there for me like I've been there for them in recent times.  Wrong decision for me, too, I guess.  Sorry to be harsh here, but I'm just disappointed, hurt, and rightfully so. I'll get over it, and have learned a pretty valuable lesson here in knowing who I can turn to (and I don't mean that to be catty or nasty; it's just the truth).

Things are better here, though I do have a heart condition called IST, inappropriate sinus tachycardia, though they keep telling me it's not life-threatening, even though it feels like it is.  There's more to it, but I'm keeping it short.

We indeed started a garden, with tomatoes, artichokes, asparagus, squash, lettuce, spinach, red onions, green beans, and bell peppers, and knock on wood, it's all doing well so far.  What did you put in your garden?  I'm sure whatever it is will thrive.

I'm glad Al has come out so often, and sorry we haven't, and maybe we will someday in the near future.  And I could not be happier that things are going so well for you guys.  I love you guys very much, would take a bullet for you, and I think I've proven that in the last few years especially.  And right now, I think maybe it's best to end this letter at this point before I say more.   

Give yourself a hug for me, and hug my brothers, too, would you?  Pet the animals for me, and just keep taking care of yourselves, and I won't ever ask for more again.

Me

I sent this email, stewed for a little bit, then couldn't control myself and sent her this second email.  Incidentally, I haven't heard a word from her since either response:

Ok, I'm sorry, but I have to say more, as much as I tried not to.

'Wrong decision, I guess'?????  Mom, what kind of answer is that from a mother to a daughter?  Your child was distraught, in your own words, and you chose to say nothing?????????  At least you were honest; maybe you figured someone else would be there to tell me that everything would be okay so you wouldn't have to.

I have been to visit you, Tommy, and Jerry since you moved to the house I spent a crapload of time helping you get a hell of a lot more than any of you have been to see me, call me, or have anything to do with me, so I'm sorry, but I'll come see you when I'm good and ready to in the future.

This isn't the first time this has happened; this is just the first time I'm finally freaking out and saying something about it, and if you think I'm about to apologize for loving the living shit out of people who will never love me back nearly as much, you're out of luck. 

This is not my fault, your last email wasn't nearly good enough a response, Mom, and you knew I was going through hell, should've been there, you weren't, and I don't want to hear another word about why that is.  And if there is anything you can do for me right now, I'd say leaving me alone for awhile would be it.

I don't know, Broads, but in this group alone, I've just seen mothers who would've freaked out if they knew their child was in the hospital, not to mention gone beyond just freaking out...

OMG!!!!!!! I shit you not... as I was finishing that last sentence, T.C. Wagadoo went nuts at the front window, I went out, saw the mailman, checked the mail, and there's a beautiful card from Pati there (Pati, I love you!!!!!!), expressing her condolences, empathy, sympathy, over what happened here.  Pati, you could not have made me feel any better than you just did, or proved my point any better.  You are amazing, my friend!!!!

At that point, I'll end my rant, except to say that I am soooooooo lucky to know women like you.  Whether it's about me or not, I have seen through you women examples of the kind of person I want to be, examples that so often surpass what I grew up seeing.  And I'm so thankful to all of you for that!!!!!  Anything you need, ever, whatever it is, if you don't ask me to help you get it, I'll beat the shit out of you;) 

Incidentally, Mom has given me what I asked for and left me alone; haven't heard a word from her since. If I can add anything else here, it would be to say that there's nothing harder to me in this world than telling off the person who gave you life. Ok, I take that back; there is something worse... when you know you're right in telling them off.

On to other stuff- Coolest thing I've done in a long time was go to a Renaissance festival nearby last weekend. Scarborough Faire has been here for ages, but I never went because I always thought it was a little dorky. I was wrong, folks. We went this last Sunday, and walking through a simulated Medieval village full of period-garbed people, complete with accents, buildings, food, complete atmosphere befitting the time, is nothing less than a wonderful experience. We spent way too much money on ale mugs, clothing, jewelry, incense, and a few other things, but God, was it worth it. We both are now die hard fans of the whole Renaissance thing;)

Also, I got two of my commissioned portraits in the mail this week, and to my delight, they were even better than the pictures Sue (the artist who painted them) sent me beforehand. I am tickled pink at my new portraits of Blanche and Eric with Annabella:)

On Monday, we went out for a drive in the country, came back and decided to sit under our arbor out front and enjoy the nice day before Eric went to work. Long story short, that decision ended up with me finding one of our strays, Igor, sitting in the ivy around our front tree, guarding his 'catch' of a baby squirrel, who was still alive, but looking at it, not for long. I initially scooped this little baby squirrel up and away from Igor, thinking I would just hold it and comfort it while it finished dying, but the rest of the day went a little differently. This little baby rodent went from looking like it was near death to recovering, running around the cat carrier I'd put it in, we called every wildlife rehabber in the area with not a lot of success, plus found out in the process that many wildlife rehabbers who take in squirrels, rabbits, and other small mammals in this area only do it so they can feed them to their other rescue animals, mainly raptors. By nightfall, I didn't know what in hell to do, so I ended up staying up all night, worrying about this little thing, doing research online, trying to figure out what the next move would be when it came to this little creature's life.

As hard as I thought this was going to be, by morning, what I would consider a miracle of a perfect ending happened. Just before sunrise, I went outside with this baby squirrel in her carrier (I'd been able to determine by then that she was indeed a she), sat out under the arbor with her because I'd read online a few hours before that the mother won't look for her baby at night, but should return by daylight to start looking for any missing baby. Sure enough, right around 7 a.m., I hear a chirping/squawking sound, get up and walk around the arbor, look up, and there's a squirrel up there, running around the tree I'd found the baby under. What's more, the little shit in the carrier starts squawking/chirping back, excited, responding, and at this point, I just know that this is Mom looking for her baby.

So, I go and get a ladder from the garage, climb the tree, wedge the carrier in the highest point I can find, and open the door.

Long story short again, I have seen my little baby squirrel friend every day since then, with her mother, running around in my tree and the pecan trees next door, and it just makes my ever-lovin' millenium:)

That's all I can muster for today, but hope I caught up somewhat. To my faithful friends and readers, as always, I love you shits, and send you all the good, not-bitchy energy I can possibly muster;)

Started March 19, 2008- Just another 'list shit as it comes entry', started after Claudia died, before Zappa did, and basically inserted here to try to lessen the amount of animal grieving I've been doing lately...

So forgive the inconsistency...

Just making this up on the fly, talking about things as they come...Maybe I should call this the profile from hell;)

Favorite horror movies of all time- The Blade movies (though the first is probably my favorite), The Exorcist ( horror could simply not be done any better), Jaws, 28 Weeks Later (OMG, never thought I'd like the sequel so much more than the original!), Dawn of the Dead/Night of the living dead (Romero's original versions), and The Shining, to name a few.

Hollywood hotties, past and present, who nauseated me, despite how hot everyone else seemed to think they were- Tom Selleck, Shaun Cassidy, David Cassidy, Leif Garret, John Travolta, the two Coreys, David Hasselhoff, Tom Cruise, Rob Lowe, Charlie Sheen, Chuck Norris, anyone from Saved by the Bell, 90210, Melrose Place or High School Musical, basically most heartthrobs in existence since the 70's.

Hollywood hotties, past and present, I completely think have earned the title- Harrison Ford, Parker Stevenson (yes, the other Hardy Boy), George Clooney, Mel Gibson (hey, Mad Max? Lethal Weapon? William Wallace? OMG, I can forgive the anti-semetic traffic thing this once!), Oded Fehr (the Mummy movies, sighhhhh), and the less recognizable like Karl Urban (Doom, Chronicles of Riddick), Jeremy Renner (Love Comes to the Executioner, The Assassination of Jesse James, 28 weeks later), Hugh Jackman (ok, maybe you do recognize that name), and Gerard Butler (maybe that name, too). Sorry, but I'm just not into pretty men/boys, though I do admit I had the hugest crush on Nick Rhodes of Duran Duran for ages.

-For the record, my gut still completely cringes at the thought of Obama being president, and I am still convinced that he's the Anti-Christ.

-When I was at the hospital, I finally got the nerve to see how much I actually weighed, something I usually just don't want to know, and of all the horrible things that happened that day, I can at least say that I got a pleasant surprise in that I was 20 pounds lighter than I thought I was. Though I wouldn't say it made my day, it was nice news, knowing I'm only about 20 pounds bigger than I was at my healthiest instead of 40.

-Interesting tidbit from a couple of days ago... I went to walk T.C. Wagadoo outside, turned down our driveway down towards the back part of the yard, a drainage ditch area we have, and as I'm walking her, I come upon a HUGE turd lying there that she sniffs, then avoids like the plague. It looks weird to me, and before I can put a finger on why I think it looks weird, the answer hits my eyes... toilet paper about three feet away with wipe marks on it. SOMEBODY TOOK A SHIT IN MY BACKYARD!!!!!!!!!!! I feel violated, guys, I really do. Might as well have been robbed or vandalized, this huge pile of sapien dung bothered me so much. Long story short, Eric comes home, I tell him, show him, and he knows immediately who did it.

Turns out the people who moved in next door have moved in more people, most likely illegal aliens, and though they have a two bathroom house, one of the legal residents of the house was telling Eric the day before the turd showed up that one of the toilets has broken, wanting to know if he knew any plumbers who didn't charge much. Boom! Doesn't take much to figure out what happened here... tons of people in one house with one bathroom, somebody's already busy in the one working bathroom while another one has to go, so instead of going outside in their own backyard, risking the wrath of the people they're staying with, they go into our drainage ditch and do their business. Little did they know that Eric would shovel it up, put it in a Wal Mart bag, along with the toilet paper, and hand it over to our neighbors, along with saying that the only shit we'll not bitch about finding in our backyard will belong to four-legged animals. Mean? I don't think so. I've heard the term 'You don't shit in your own backyard' a few times in my life; I think these assholes took it a little too literally.

-I am hopelessly addicted to Big Brother/BB After Dark this year, though I don't know why. I don't even know who to root for, they're all so fucked up. Maybe I can narrow down who I'd like to win by concentrating on who drives me fucking nuts. Natalie is my least favorite, dumb, naïve when it comes to men, and if she continues to do everything she's doing so far 'for Matty', I will vomit up things I didn't even eat if she wins. Adam is a big mess of a grunting, ball-scratching, mannerless galoot, Ryan is about as interesting as a Kenny G song, Sheila's just another aging woman with titty dancer syndrome, and the sound of Sharon's voice just makes me want to buy her some nasal strips just before slapping her teeth out.

I guess that leaves James and Josh, and frankly, neither of those are prizes, either. Evel Dick, like I said before, I miss you, though I LOVED seeing you a few days ago on the show:)

-I haven't heard much from any of my family lately, and as you all know, in this family, that's a good thing. That means that nobody's in trouble, nobody needs anything;)

Outta time, and aren't you grateful?;) Once again, wish you all a world of all things kick ass, and I owe you all the same!

March 28- I apologize for yet another eulogy 

Better times have GOT to be imminent!

One of the worst days of my life happened a few days ago. To try and shorten things as much as possible, a few mornings ago, some of our cats got into a huge fight, Eric got up and went to break it up, and accidentally stepped on one of our older cats, Zappa, in the process, on his leg. At this point, I should say that Zappa was the aggressor in the cat fight, and had been acting strange before hand, information that very well may apply to what happened next. I immediately checked Zappa out, all seemed okay, so I breathed a sigh of relief, then went back to the usual daily routine... but only briefly.

To leave out a world of absolutely tragic details, Zappa died 15 minutes later, I freaked out like I never have before, then verbally attacked Eric, accusing him of killing my baby, though after thinking about Zappa's behavior beforehand, I regret blaming him, Eric completely collapsed, mentally and physically, sure that he'd killed Zappa, and the day just got worse from there.

As a result of this God awful day, I went into a racing heartbeat, arm pains, dizziness, followed by chest pains and every other sign of a heart attack, and amidst the loss of Zappa, the fact that I was sure I was about to die ended up taking precedent.

I hope none of you readers here will ever know what it's like to end up putting your newly deceased animal you're grieving profusely over into the freezer because you can't bury him at the moment, due to the fact that you're about to die yourself. I couldn't put the feeling into words if my life depended on it.

This all happened by sunrise.

Just after sunrise, I was in the ER, taken straight in past the other waiting patients, hooked up to an EKG several times, chest xray, blood drawn several times for enzyme tests to determine whether a heart attack happened or not, procedure after procedure... and when the final word came back, turns out my heart seemed perfectly okay, but that I have sinus tachycardia, meaning that it beats too fast all the time for no apparent reason.... at all the wrong times. And did I mention that Eric was there with me the whole time? Dealing with me blaming him for Zappa's death while also fearing he was about to become a widower? Like I said before, not a good day.

I was released with a follow up stress test scheduled, told I wasn't going to die anytime soon, went home and now had to deal with the body of my furkid in the freezer.

As of today, here's what's happened-

I had my stress test, and I'm not dying. I have more doctor's appointments to confirm what's going on, but for now, it looks as if I have IST, Inappropriate Sinus Tachycardia with a suspected oversensitivity to adrenalin (neither of which is considered life threatening, really). What that basically means is that when something overly tragic, scary, or traumatic happens to me, my body releases adrenalin, and though my mind quickly deals with it, my body has a hard time adjusting to the change. Even when my brain gets a grip on things, knows what I have to do, my body still over reacts, my heart pounding, my head buzzing, everything going haywire, and it doesn't return to normal like it should. I have future appointments that should (I PRAY!!!!!!), ease or fix this, but for now, at least I know that my heart is healthy overall.

As for Zappa, I still had to decide whether or not to have an 'autopsy' done on him to determine why he died. I was in a bind here, because if I had it done and it turned out that Eric did indeed cause Zappa's death, I'm honestly not sure I could ever get past that, not to mention telling him that he was Zappa's murderer would have fucked him up for life. Then again, if I didn't have it done, a part of my soul would always wonder about it, always somewhat blame Eric for something he may or may not have done.

We ultimately decided to have it done, didn't exactly know who to go to, but thanks to one of Eric's family members, we were put in touch with a veterinarian not too far from here who agreed to do the procedure. So Eric took the day off, we drove there with Zappa's body, the both of us just not sure at all about what we were doing, not sure either of us could handle the results.

Not even an hour after handing Zappa over, the vet found an enlarged heart and a tumor in his abdominal cavity, near his liver, no signs of physical trauma, and that the likely cause of death was a heart attack. Overall, she felt that the tumor had nothing to do with it, but that the initial cat fight Zappa was involved in was the trigger for the heart attack, and that in the worst case scenario, Eric's involvement only added to an already existing event. Zappa's brother Clancy died from heart failure, so this all makes a hell of a lot of sense, makes both Eric and I feel better, but it doesn't by a long shot remove our grief.

We buried Zappa today, yet another burial in a long line of burials I know will follow, as many ancient animals as I have here still. He's next to Claudia, and for now, Eric and I are at peace. For now, everyone is okay. My animals are all doing well so far, old or not, Eric knows that he didn't stomp Zappa to death, and I can actually see at least some relief for my physical condition here soon. As tragic as things seem, as much as I've thought I couldn't survive them these last few days, it turns out I can. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, they say. I sure as hell hope they're right, 'cause if I do survive all of this, plus what's yet to come, I'll be fucking Superman!;)

In closing, love you gals and guys, know you're still here, appreciate you, and despite my self-absorbed whining, I am still here for you should you ever need me!

March 3/5, admitting things that suck definitely sucks, but I'm doing it anyway

-(Quick note- I started this rant a few days ago, ran out of time, so while reading this first political rant paragraph of mine, just know that I'm doing backflips of joy over Hillary pulling off Ohio and Texas!)

I've somewhat admitted my defeat in this whole Hillary/Obama thing. I've come to grips with the fact that the sheep have baaaaaa'dddd, orgasming over the retardedly generic 'Change We Can Believe In' banners and signs without really understanding, much less questioning the hows and whos, whats, whens, wheres, or whys of the whole 'Change' slogan the Obama camp has successfully sold. Life as a shepherd, seeing painfully beyond the hype, sucks, thinking for yourself without using the safety crutch of popular opinion sucks because you want to see the right thing happen so often, yet you know it ain't gonna... not as long as people like those running the Obama campaign understand the human condition and how to exploit it to their benefit. Having said that, let me put this prediction of mine on record: President Obama is not going to give anyone change... at least change they can believe in. Nope, all I see is a bunch of people a year and a half from now tuning in to Oprah, hoping to hear a retraction or explanation that'll make them feel better for being so gullible. Kennedy family, particularly Ted and Caroline, you ain't excused from this, either. I hope you're prepared to stick by your endorsement of Obama through thick and thin, but I hope even more fervently that you're not too proud to admit your serious fuck up once it becomes undeniably apparent. In the meantime, I just want to thank everyone who is screaming their support for Obama without really knowing why, because I can so look forward to voting now (I hope the sarcasm is detected here), my choices will be so great. Seriously, between McCain and Obama, I'm damned near praying I can do a write-in vote for either Casey Kasem, Bruce Willis, or Pikachu.... anyone.

The hubby recently heard a radio program touting the wonders of penis enlargement via simple manual exercises specifically aimed at making the dick bigger. Soooo, now he's convinced and dedicated to finding out what these exercises are, and doing them until he can show off the results. And to this, I can't help but compare this to if I suddenly decided that my 38DD's needed another few extra cup sizes added via saline implant. What in the ever loving fuck is this about? Putting my worry and apprehension aside, I told him that he could pull his penis all he wanted to, that I would support him, but that if it actually worked, he'd better get enough pleasure out of just looking at his huge member, 'cause he sure as hell isn't using it on me, and he sure as hell isn't using it on another woman without me finding out about it, making sure he ends up on an episode of Cheaters before I clean him out in divorce court;) Seriously, it amazes me that such a large percentage of plastic surgery clients/patients are married, happily so. Do you really need a horse dick or sandbag tits to make you feel more masculine or feminine? Are you really doing it for you? Is my husband's desire to achieve long dong status a serious warning sign that our marriage won't be forever? I don't know, but I've said my peace, whatever happens I'll deal with, but one thing I will NOT do is mount a monster cock (I'd like to keep my pelvis intact, thank you). I'm willing to deal with the consequences of marital abstinence, should this be the case;)

Much more to talk about, but I don't have much more time, so I'll try to type a few more things as quickly as I can:

-My neighbor still isn't talking to me, and I've gotta admit I'm enjoying the break from female to female chick activities.

-Half tail cat is still hanging around with her babies, and I still haven't fully figured out what to do with them.

-One of the gals I work with is having copyright problems with a manuscript; I want to send her all my wishes and prayers.

-I emailed a former fanfiction acquaintance yesterday, worried she'd stopped writing, and hope she doesn't see this as me wanting to open up communications again. Though I support her passion for writing, I really don't feel the desire to be thrown under any bus again in exchange for feedback. I just wanted her to know that I don't hate her, wish her the best, but equally wish that kind of baggage never hits my doorstep again.

More to write, I'm officially out of time, gotta go, but wish you all the best of everything, and with that, I'm making like a tree and getting the hell out of here;)

Feb. 25, 2008-

I'm 39 today, as so many of you reminded me (LOL, and thanks for the emails and snail mail cards. I love you all with all of my redneck heart!!!), and I gotta say, it doesn't feel a lick different from 38, 37, 36, or even a couple years before that. I think I've been this gimped for awhile;)

Anyway, I had a good birthday thus far. All my family called me, remembered me, and that meant a hell of a lot, and Eric's back was in good enough shape to take me thrift store shopping, where I got to buy whatever I wanted with his gift to me being him promising not to bitch or whine about why I was buying this or that for the cats and dogs when I know they're just going to destroy it. The this or that ended up being a huge kids' collapsible tunnel they're tearing up as I type, and a huge pop up tent I found at Goodwill for 7.99, a tent my ancient husky (and still seizure free, by the way), is currently lying in while barking aggressively at Hyanna and Nigel over, telling them in his bark speak that they'd better leave his new old fart bachelor pad alone;) I found a lot of great deals today for everyone in this house, from a Japanese Kimono I'm wearing right now (damn, it fits and feels fabulous), to a Dallas Stars throwback jersey Eric shit over because the thrift store people didn't realize its value and priced it at 6 bucks, to the aforementioned tent and tunnel my pets are now living it up in. Good day, 39 doesn't suck, enough said;)

Two weeks ago, a stray cat I saw last ages ago and assumed was dead showed up, a little tabby female with a tail that looked as if it had been chopped in half. I was shocked yet thrilled to see her after so long, tried over these last couple of semanas to win her trust each morning when I feed all my strays, eventually gained it in that she now lets me pet her while she's eating, and apparently, I should've remembered to be careful what I wished for... that I just might get it. I say that because about four days ago, little Half-tail showed up... with three roughly six-week old babies in tow, two little solid black males and one little female tabby and white patch girl, none of which trust me enough to let me handle them. I'm working on it, though, can NOT bring them in this house, but I sure would like to get them human-friendly enough to find homes for. On our way home from the thrift stores today, I stopped at The Mart, picked up a rotisserie chicken, and of the three kittens, as I type, two of them I was able to tempt close enough to grab by the nape of the neck, put in my lap, and hand-feed chicken to. For non-rescuer folks, trust me; that's a great sign!

Running out of steam here, but on the Eric front, man, you guys rock!!!!! The good wishes and prayers sent are amazing, we both are so grateful, and I just want to let you know that they're working. He's doing so much better, despite how shitty his company's workman comp program/policy is. In a nutshell, each day consists of Eric seeing a physical therapist his company pays for, who doesn't do much for him, then traveling from Grand Prairie, TX to Mesquite, where we're gladly paying the real doctor out of pocket who's really helping Eric's back. I can't believe chiropractors aren't given more medical 'respect', thought they had it until Eric got hurt and we tried to get chiropractic care covered under his company's workman compensation network. Hell, we thought that wouldn't be a problem... after all, our Blue Cross covers chiropractic care. We were wrong, the dh's company has absolutely NO chiropractors in its network, we don't want a lawsuit, so we're just caving in and putting it on our insurance, paying the co-pay and such without that much bitching because they're really making Eric far better than anything else has thus far.

Oh, watched Big Brother After Dark on Showtime last night, and ended up changing channels because I felt so dirty for watching as much as I did. For those who didn't see it, the people in the BB house all decided to strip for each other, sticking crotches into faces, putting whipped cream on nipples for licking-off purposes, then ended up in the pool, the men pretty much passing the women around for topless French-kissing sessions. I swear to God, I'm an open-minded woman, but what this group did on television last night ended up making me miss Evel Dick and last season more than ever. I'm sorry, but it just wasn't sexy. I can hang with sexy, but I just can't hang with what I watched last night.

Finally, I want to thank those who have yet again chosen to be sheep and not shepherds in this whirlwind Obama campaign. I've gotten a lot of emails since my last entry about Obama and how much I fear his taking office, yet to date, nobody's been able to cite his proposed policies, past political performance, or any cache of proof as to why this man really deserves to be president. If what I think is going to happen actually happens, I'm going to be stumped at the polls, followed by profound dismay, followed by at least four years of me listening to the people around me bitching nonstop about all things D.C., me biting my tongue until I need microsurgery to reattach it, all just because I really didn't want to scream out 'I TOLD YOU SO!!!!!!!!'. But then again, if in the next four years, this man manages to dramatically make all our lives better by 'changing' D.C. Bullshit, tame Congress, without devastating compromise, I will personally don a thong and pasties, fly to Pakistan, and skip down the streets in said outfit, screaming 'Allah tipped me 50 bucks once to grind his crotch!!!'

I am that sure you folks freaking out over him are going to be disappointed in your future president.

Okay, sorry yet not sorry for the political part of this rant, but in any case, gotta go. I adore you guys no matter what!

Feb. 14, 2008- A Few Things-

Yet again, in 'I'll write 'em as I think of 'em' form'...

-Eric was antsy this last weekend, was dying to get out, I had things to do here, but hell, my little dorky yet lovable man wanted to get out, so I put the chores aside, washed and dressed hastily, and we headed out. After a quick stop at Half Price Books, my Mecca of all things Literature, a longer stop at Big Lots, where of all things, I love to shop for odd gourmet food items (found some good ones this time, including Jamaican coffee, marinated Tuscan antipasto, imported rigatoni pasta, and garlic extra virgin olive oil), and another quick stop back home to drop this all off, we somehow ended up downtown, at the Old Red Courthouse Museum (a huge local Dallas landmark loaded with history). Funny thing about this place is that I've been in it a million times, just not under these circumstances, nor lately. See, my father was the last Dallas City Attorney to have an office there in the 70's, and when he had his office there, I used to run around the place as if it were my playground. Anyway, after touring the second floor museum, then chatting things up with the woman in charge of the tourist info department, I was asked if I'd be interested in working for their historical society. What an honor! I'm seriously considering doing it! Anyway, we had a great time Sunday:)

-What is the point of these baseball/steroid hearings? Why is this much time and taxpayer money being spent on whether or not one dude stuck a needle and syringe full of performance-enhancing/dick-shrinking substance into another dude's hairy buttock? Especially when we have a world of other concerns immediately affecting all of us, and immediately more deserving of outrage? Maybe we should load up the puckered, wrinkled, and pretentious asses of Capitol Hill with HGH or anabolic steroids in order to enhance their performance... just a thought.

-It's Valentine's Day, and as luck would have it, I'm spending it doubled over with cramps, a blood-shedding uterus, hormone surges, and the complete lack of desire to do anything anyone would consider even remotely productive. I put on a pair of shorts I've worn for years this morning, and when I squatted down to pick up something off of the floor, the ass-seam split wide open with a huge RRRIIIPPP! Ass cheeks hanging out, hormone fluctuations causing the kinds of mood changes you usually see only in schizophrenia, I started crying in surrender to the ever-growing monstrosity that is my ass, a battle I just ain't winning. But as my depths of despair were just about to reach a level of melodramatic retardation I can only describe as Maury Povich'ish', Eric walks in the door with a Valentine's bag full of sushi, dark chocolate truffles, pistachios, and some seriously expensive Belgian beer, takes one look at my face, asks why I'm crying, I turn around and show him my newly exposed tootsie cushions, and his face lights up. And just when I'm convinced my newest evidence that I've gained weight is going to inspire laughter in my husband, that light in his face instead produces a wink and a sincerely spoken reply...

'Oooohhh... sexy!'

Amazing how those two words spoken with a deep male voice can instantly balance a woman's previously haywire hormones;)

He is sooooooo getting laid today;)

And with that tacky comment, gotta say I have to go, wanted to write more, ran out of time, think about you all, and wish you all the happiest of Heart days. May your most romantic dreams come true today.... and if they do, Jesus Christ, may you write about it and send it to me!!!!!!;)

Feb. 6, 2008-More getting stuff out of me and out there while I have time

-Thank you, thank you thank you, folks, for agreeing with me about Obama rather than calling me a racist (M, you in particular I agree most with, and off-topic, I am SO RELIEVED the weather didn't affect you as badly as it could have!). I without a doubt would shit solid gold bricks at having a black president. I just have the deepest, strongest gut feeling that Obama should not be him or her, should never be. Like I said before, can't explain it, and it's nevertheless wonderful to hear from more than one of you that you're getting the same vibe that tells me I'm not alone. We're still not in the 'popular' club, judging from how many states he took last night, but at least a few of us aren't buying the media/Oprah/Hey, I wanna look cool influence and still listening to our guts. That's enough for me for now. By the way, if any of you who don't agree with me want to email and let me know why I'm wrong, more importantly, exactly what Obama's done, proposes to do, or can let me know in some sort of detail why you think he's so great, by all means do. I will welcome it, because all I've heard so far is that this man 'wants change', 'is cool', and any other number of non-informed blanket statements that further have me convinced voters should have to pass some sort of test before being allowed to cast their ballot. I swear to God, this is American Idol, politics edition.

-My husky Ike hasn't had another seizure than the one I first wrote about. Yeah!!!!!!!!! We had the vet visit, which resulted in a dx of hypoglycemia, I was worried that this was too easy a diagnosis, that something worse had to be going on, but since I've been feeding him smaller amounts several times a day per vet instructions, this ancient dog is doing incredibly well:)

-Since checking my site statistics a couple of weeks ago, I've become increasingly worried about one particular IP number that I'm pretty sure belongs to the woman in Arizona my sister granted partial custody to. And if I'm right, this is what I'd like to say to you, who I'll refrain from naming: If I'm right, if this is you, your constant reading here, though I'd love to think it's because I'm so fascinating, instead leads me to suspect that you're taking every negative thing I say about my family and printing it out, reserving it for some sort of terrible 'ammunition', should you ever need it. If this is the case, how un'Lutheran' of you! How un-Christian, how disappointing, and how downright low. Print this out; I have a lot of issues with how my family has affected my niece, but on a different yet just as pathetic note, I've come to realize that you holier-than-thou folks don't exactly have a grasp on the real teachings of Jesus, either. Glass houses can exist in any size, location, upbringing, or religion, whether their resident sees it or not. And, oh, if I'm wrong about this IP number?... nevermind;)

-Speaking of IP's, Dawn, you have got to know that I know you still come here and read. Whether it's to remind yourself of why I suck or honestly catch up on what's going on with me, the least you could do is tell me if and where you have a blog/diary/rant page. Right?

-I'm seeing more and more new paranormal shows on T.V., and frankly, the majority are bothering me. If I have to admit to leaning towards any of them, I'll just have to cave and say that the Ghosthunters and Paranormal State are the two I just can't help but watch as often as possible. But even with saying that, I also have to say that I have my problems with both, problems most people just wanting to be spooked don't have, but problems anyone who's ever been around legitimate paranormal investigators, know the difference, would have. I've been lucky enough to know real paranormal groups with real experiences who have spent their time not looking for fame, but instead honestly looking to understand the realm(s) beyond ours, people more interested in helping a spirit pass on than shopping around their documented evidence to the highest paying network. If anything, at least the belief in spirits existing after death seems to be acknowledged more than ever, looking less 'crazy' than before, so that's got to be a good thing.

-Okay, got pets to feed, play with, and walk, got chores, got errands, got a million other things to deal with, to ultimately talk about here, but for now I'm just kissing the buttocks of whatever deity gave me this window of time in which to sit down and write this rant, landing that extra smooch on ass flesh in thanks that so many of you haven't given up on me;)

Jan. 3, 2008- Long time, no see, I see;)

Well, shit. I wish I could tell you all that this was the finest holiday I've ever had, full of sugar plums, frosty yet heart-warming sled rides through the snow, and all the expected jazz, but this honestly was a holiday I'd like to forget. So I apologize in advance for writing about it, but I'm going to in hopes that getting it out of me will help me forget and move on into this new year.

Christmas involved me staying at home and not doing much because I didn't feel well, begging Eric to at least get out and go see his family for a little while, so at least he had a good visit. Meanwhile, my mother was upset to a degree that I didn't come out, and my Dad and stepmom didn't even call. The day after Christmas, one of my older cats, Cletus, passed away unexpectedly, his heart suddenly giving out on him. Immediately after that, I went to hang a shower curtain the rest of the cats had pulled down, and while balancing myself up on the edge of the tub, I slipped, fell into the tub, and ended up pulling, straining, spraining, and bruising a good percentage of my body. The worst was my toes, three of which apparently bent backwards and out of shape, three of which still hurt now, even though my bruises and other damage is getting much better. If I can say anything good about this experience, it's that I'm funny as hell to watch walk, am grateful I didn't break a bone, and painkillers sooooooo rock when you need them;)

Finally, I get a call from my stepmother, or rather a message from her on my answering machine, telling me first that she was sorry for not calling, then admitting that she just 'didn't get around to it', finally asking if we'd like to get together before New Years... Oh, just before saying that she and my dad spent the holidays with my step cousin Val and had a great time. WTF is that???? I am your only child, DAD!!!! And Judy? Did I not spend my most formative years with you more in my life than my own mother was???? I played the message back for Eric, and his eyes popped at listening to what this taped voice of my stepmom was saying. Then he hugged me, kissed me on my forehead, and told me he was so sorry. Funny, but I hadn't even thought about crying until that point; I was too disgusted. But that simple act of kindness from my best friend and partner just unleashed something in me, and I let loose like a broken main.

And after all these years, I really understood something better than I ever have before.

In my soon to be 39 years of life, I have continually found that the people who love me most unconditionally, the people who really know me, like me, accept me, and really want to be in my life... have been people other than my 'family'. I don't think I've ever had a family member who unselfishly gave up anything for me they didn't want to give up, thought of me before themselves, and quite honestly, I can't think of a one of them who'd 'take a bullet' for me, grieve me fully if I died, donate a kidney if I needed one. And that's particularly funny, 'cause I would for any one of them.

In my husband's hug, even though my tears flowed so fully, I think they were more out of gratitude than regret or self-pity. In his hug, I really knew a lot of things... that though this is how things are, and though I can't change it, it's not my fault. I am not a perfect person, something any of you who know me or read here understand to unimaginable degrees, but I am a goddamned pretty cool one nevertheless. I am deserving of so much more than my family's given me over the years, but I do not feel as slighted as I could feel, because so many other people have loved me, really loved me. Kindred spirits I've been lucky to have plenty of, my husband being the biggest blessing. In that hug, it really hit me that no matter what I say, do, look like, come from, or carry on my back, I am loved, loved, and loved again... because of all it rather than despite it. There are no conditions, no fear of losing him unless I change this or do that, no shame I feel I should have about myself because he says I should. I am as important to him as he is to me, as appreciated as I appreciate, trusted as fully as I trust him, and if the nation's divorce odds ever one day did claim us as their next victims, I still don't see how the two of us wouldn't stay close in some way... any way.

Anyway, I can whine and whine over and over again about blood not as thick as it should be, but in the end, I think I have been lucky enough to have something just as, if not more, special. And I'm sorry for the gushiness, but I can't help it. A part of me expects each year of my life with this man to turn, go bad, but it doesn't, and when it does the opposite, makes us closer, I stop wondering as much what we're doing right as much as I hope we just keep doing it;)

Incidentally, I emailed my stepmom, told her to please never feel bad about she or Dad not getting in touch with me, that I'd much rather know she and Dad are doing what they want to do rather than feel they have to find time to spend with me, all of this said in hopes that somebody would finally address something. I got back a response full of 'oh, NO, Paula. We're proud of you, want to spend more time with you, etc.', followed by excuse after excuse as to why things are the way they are, none of it saying what really needed to be said. So, I left it alone, we're going to see them this weekend, I'm sure all the formalities we usually see will be in place, nobody really relaxing or ignoring their time piece in hopes that this will be over soon (and honestly, that's more me than anyone). But this time, it'll be more okay than it's ever been for me before. I'll be okay, no matter what.

That's about it for now, as weird as the above was. I've heard from a lot of you good folks, am thrilled your holidays were great. Allison, I'm so sorry, but I just didn't get around yet to resending your 'thingy';) I promise I'm going to, and it's going to be worth the wait. Ariane, drop me a line when you have time to, and in the meantime, hope you're okay! Jeff, I got the photos you sent, and OMG, we were such the fashion victims back then, weren't we? Carol, I sympathize with you completely re: the writer's strike, hope all is well soon, Sue, just wanted you to know that I'm ordering some more candles soon, and hey, when you're up to it, send me a new graphic for Candle Craz'd, could you? Molly, shocked the hell out of me to hear from you after all these years, thrilled with how things are going for you, and please forgive Accidental Muse, or at least the version you see online. I was drunk that year;) Catbroads still rock, my commissioned paintings by my Catbroad Sue are still completely amazing me with their beauty, Marie, I think of you often, hope you'll email me an update on you soon, to the rest of you, spirits still abound in my world, Baker and beyond, just not enough to write about lately, so stop asking;) All in all, hope this new year shows all of us the best life has to offer, and if it doesn't, just keep reading here, 'cause I guarantee you I'll bitch about it;)

Dec. 19, 2007-

I recently had a fan fiction-related nightmare, and even though I haven't talked much about the genre or the people I once knew in it much lately, I find myself forced to now, because the traumatic images from that dream won't leave my brain until I get it out.

Before I talk about this dream, let me give a little background... the fanfiction group I once belonged to had a couple of women who liked to post pictures they found on the internet of models/people they pictured in their heads when creating characters (many, many characters these women dubbed their 'stable', sharing them all with us as if we cared). The movie(s) these folks' storylines were based on were the Mummy Movies, and their characters were supposed to be nomadic and tribal warriors traveling the deserts and harsh terrain of Egypt, etc. I don't know about you, but when I envision those kinds of men, I see tall and lean dark-skinned men in robes, brown eyes, few words, intense sand-carved features etched across their faces, etc., etc.

Well, these girls, when posting pictures of their Egyptian warrior men, completely threw me for a loop. Instead of the Oded Fehr/Ardeth Bay kind of character from the movies, I found myself looking at this message board and seeing picture after picture of overly tanned white boys, dye-job black-haired male strippers with ice blue eyes and six packs no activity in Egypt not involving a weight set could be blamed for.

So, back to the dream.

I'm in this harem kind of a room in a building made of clay and sand, and I'm waiting for this rough and manly Tuareg or Medjai warrior to come in and take me, but instead, the silk curtains separating this room from the outside part, bad techno music starts, and a bunch of muscular young men looking like they came straight from the Dubai Chippendales come dancing in, complete with hand-woven thongs and impossibly blue eyes, their shaved bodies glistening with the olive oil they'd just rubbed all over their rock hard muscles for that extra 'effect'. One of them, probably named Mohammed or Berin or Kedar (like the name is going to make it better), starts gyrating in front of me while the others dance around behind him, rubbing their massive pecs and saying things like 'Allah, am I not hot?', and just when Mohammed/Berin/Kedar starts to thrust his hips so that his hand-woven thong bounces his desert jewels in my face, another desert warrior with a cocktail tray, wearing a thong and a bowtie bows down and wants to take my drink order. Meanwhile, I'm just wanting to get the hell out of there as fast as possible before someone pulls their thong out in anticipation of me shoving a drachma in it. I woke up sweating, and completely lacking any kind of sex drive for what I suspect will be at least a week, probably more.

Hey, Oded Fehr fan fiction ladies who love to share your stables of hot Egyptian men with everyone... thanks for officially giving me post-traumatic stress disorder through your grossly misinterpreted and menopausally dreamt up mockeries of characters based on the Mummy movies. I cannot sarcastically say enough here that I really appreciate having my image of Ardeth Bay permanently perverted by posted visions of guys you think are hot, and who I am sure I'd see in just about any gay porn movie. Way to go, girls! Your masturbation material is now my nightmare.

Sorry, had to get that out.

In other news, I have officially gone from defending the people surrounding my niece in Arizona to complete disgust. My niece is still having seizures, is entirely doped up on medications prescribed by a family physician, and nobody will take her back in to a specialist, much less listen to any one of us who are biologically related when we beg them to take her back to the ER. Everyone is still saying it's stress, still relying on prayer to do the trick, and I swear to God, I'm about to kidnap that kid and bring her back here. I have absolutely no power in this situation, and my frustration level is at an all-time high. Sarah is not getting better, and I now feel like I'm watching two people die in front of me instead of one. My sister and her daughter. Merry Christmas!

Sorry, had to get that out.

I haven't had a panic attack in awhile, and after much thought, I've come to the conclusion that it's because I've just been too fucking angry to have one lately. Apparently, whatever brain chemistry is used in anger keeps my panic attacks down, so let's see if I can find more to bitch about;)

My sister... roughly six hours into her birthday, calls me to remind me that I'd forgotten her birthday, then spends the next several minutes telling me about her boyfriend, and how there was a murder next door to her, not mentioning Sarah once, and missing the singing telephone greeting I had ordered for her because she ignored her call waiting. And when she did finally get it and call me back, she was disappointed because I hadn't bought her cigarettes as a gift.

Sorry, had to get that out.

My older than dirt story on fictionpress finally got a bad review, from a gal who, of all things, pointed out that I used the word kubalibra instead of Cuba Libra, and that it's just rum and coke. No other gripes or complaints, no suggestions, nothing I could learn from. Doesn't matter that kubalibra is also correct, and that it is not just rum and coke, but specifically Bacardi (technically 151) and a twist of lime. Fact is, it would've been nice to hear a real gripe or suggestion rather than something I'm not even going to bother responding to. Then again, if that's all she had to bitch about, maybe that's a good thing;)

You guessed it... Sorry, just had to get that out.

There's more to write, but I'm running out of time, so in a nutshell, I'll just wrap up by saying that my commissioned paintings are coming out beautifully, Sue is an amazing artist, I am thrilled to death with the deals I got on presents this year for loved ones, especially Eric, I've been happy to finally catch up with and talk to so many of my online buddies lately, and those of you involved with the writer's strike, I hope you don't see me posting rants as disrespect;) Life in general here isn't going so bad, could be much worse, and despite how much I bitched here today, I'm glad I couldn't find more;) All of you who've been here loyally, despite my long absences, I love you, wish you a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year, and a shitload of even better beyond those dates.

I'm not sorry, just couldn't wait to get that out:)

Dec. 12, 2007-Weird stuff lately

Just when I'm too damned busy to think about ghostly stuff, I'm forced to. Roxann has been here, and for those of you who are just now reading this, Roxann is a ghost. She and her young son were murdered here in this area in the early 80's, and since reading about her and visiting the site where she was killed not too long ago, I've had a connection with this young woman on and off over the last several months. Anyway, she was here yesterday while I was stashing Eric's presents in places where he couldn't find them. Whether you think I'm crazy or not, I could feel her following me around the house, a welcome feeling since I hadn't felt her lately, could almost hear her giggling at me while I hid a pair of fancy shoes for Eric in the water heater closet, felt her saying something like 'How come I never thought of that?', and at one point, while trying to hide the Tony Romo jersey I got Eric, Roxann actually drew attention to an excellent hiding place by making an upper cabinet door swing open in the hallway I was standing in, an empty upper shelf Eric never ever checks, staring right at me. Don't ask me how I know this is Roxann, 'cause I can't tell you other than to say that I just know. Half of you are turned off already, so I'm not going to bother explaining much more, except to say that I do know a gal named Roxann, she is a spirit on the Other Side, and for some reason, she comes in and visits me when she wants to, which isn't often. She didn't need anything from me this time, I don't think. What I do think is that she probably just likes the holidays, and was here to get a kick out me getting a kick out of hiding Eric's presents;) It's funny, but I never ever feel the presence of her son, who died when she did. And unlike my first experiences with her, I think that Roxann is okay with that now.

And just when you think I'm loony enough, good Old Ginnie's back, too. Allison, if you're reading here today, I've got to ask you if you know whether or not Mineral Wells has done the Christmas lights this year. I'm asking because, thanks to dreams of Ginnie throwing a fit, I don't think they have. She doesn't say that the lights aren't up, but she's pitching a fit, and due to the time of year, I'm assuming that this is why she's in rare form. The dreams are hard to explain this time, except to say that she kept saying four clear words.... 'I can't dance now!'. I don't know why I think this has to do with the lights, or the holidays, but like I said in the previous paragraph about Roxann... I just kinda know that's what she's raving about. If you know anything about this, please let me know. And I'd really like to know why she keeps telling me about it, as if I can do anything.

Finally, as if the above isn't crazy enough, there's a new person, yet another female, in my dreams a lot lately, so if, by chance, she has something to do with one of you here, I'm going to talk about her in case one of you recognizes her-

She's a very round woman, very short, brown-eyed, puffy-cheeked, pale skinned with dark wavy hair cut only just above her shoulder blades and dressed like she does housework nonstop (i.e.- looks like she's wearing a homemade apron with the little wavy trim around the pockets, an Edith Bunker looking sack dress underneath). I think she's from the northeast, partly because she has a Brooklynish accent (I'm not good with accents in that general area, so she could be from any area or state in that region), and partly because in my dreams, I see her standing in a crude basement with pillars throughout supporting the first floor, doing laundry while I basically just sit there and listen to her/observe as she appears to talk to herself, and I just don't see many basements anywhere near here as much as I know they exist up around the east coast, thus my guess. She says things about her daughters, mostly. That she hopes one will go back to school while she bitches constantly about the other's husband, spending more time calling him names while routinely folding clothes taken out of a nasty yellow colored dryer than actually telling me the name of the daughter married to him. Anyway, she only pops up in my dreams briefly, though daily, and in the dreams, she never looks at me, acknowledges that I'm there, but man, can that woman talk to herself!!!! If any of you can tell me that you know who this woman is, and that she's not just a really messed up faction of my imagination, I'm not so sure you should tell me, actually;) She just reminds me too much of my MIL for me to want to know if there actually is/was another person on this earth that much like my own MIL;) But seriously, if any of you left reading do read this and swear you know who this is, please let me know. Not that I can do anything about it, but I would, if anything, like to know that I may not be nuts, instead really possibly seeing a real woman one of you once knew.

Anyway, life beyond this supernatural stuff has been going about the same. I'm still worried about some, still not worried about others, still feeling all the same emotions about everyone last rant. My Christmas shopping is done, we know what we're doing for Christmas, and are looking forward to it, some family will bitch about it, granted, and all of which I'll write about later:)

And that's about it for now. I hope you all who still read here are doing uberly fabunificent, think about you always, and hope your holidays are beyond expectation! I'll leave you with a couple of pictures taken during the progress of a commissioned portrait I'm having done of Eric and one of our puppies, Annabella. I am just amazed with the artist, Sue Kroll. Check back in the future for information on how you can have this amazing artist paint a masterpiece for you at an unbelievably affordable price!

Nov. 6, 2007- Way too long between rants, and probably too little too late;)

I am literally more burned out than a two dollar whore who takes coupons. This season is always busy, and as a result, it's always stressful, and though I find some time today to finally leave an entry, I doubt it's going to be cohesive, informative, or interesting. Still...

Okay, where to start...

Sarah- she's having seizures again. The family she's with won't take her back to the ER, opting instead to continue to see their family doctor, G.P., and as much as I've supported them in the past, I'm finding myself frustrated at just how much these people won't listen to any opinion that doesn't suit their own. I think my niece's problems go deeper than what they're looking at, I think that this is not just stress anymore, and it just kills me that I have absolutely no rights, legal or otherwise, in demanding that more testing be done at a different facility. The people surrounding Sarah right now are literally 'cocooning' her from all of her biological family, and for the first time since all of this began, I now feel 'grouped' in with the rest of my family, judged for what they're like. And not for the first time, I'm angrier than ever at my sister that this is even the case. If she had honestly tried to be a mother at any point in her life, had tried to kick her habits, be a better person... oh man, the possibilities! But she didn't, and we family members didn't step up enough when we could have, been there instead of these uber-Bible thumping faith-healers, so now we all pay, but none of us are paying like Sarah is now. I just can't tell you all how much it sucks to be forced to sit back and watch this, powerless. I thank all of you so much for the prayers you've been sending for Sarah all along, and if I can, I'd like to ask that you continue to send them, along with new prayers that this young woman can heal and break free of all of us, live her own life, stand up for herself, and do all of that with as little regret as possible.

My step-grandmother Coreen died suddenly last week, just hours before her birthday, and my stepmother is in shock. The funeral was this weekend, and I feel awful for not attending, but I have a very talented friend of mine working on a portrait of her as a gift for my stepmom. I have a multitude of memories when it comes to this woman, some good, some mixed, and ultimately I regret not keeping in touch with my step-family once I was old enough not to 'have' to spend every Christmas with them. Damn, this sounds catty, I know, but I really don't mean it to be. There's a world of further detail to go into to explain it all, so I'll save it all for a later entry. For now, though, I'd just like to say that Coreen was a good, God-fearing, moral woman I am glad to have known, and I know that she is in a better place now, for which I am truly grateful.

Eric makes me sick... here I am, exercising and cutting calories all in a fruitless effort to lose weight, then I go outside to the car the other day to fetch something, open up the back hatch, and see what I can only describe as a morbidly round tub of weight-gainer powder sitting back there. Yes, that's right... the man is fighting to gain weight!!! WTF???? He's just over six feet tall, weighs around 180, yet he thinks he's too skinny. I swear to God, I wanted to wrack this man at the sight of that tub of protein. The only thing that kept me from it was him deliriously happy at my weight gain over the last couple of years, ignoring my saddlebags and ass-cheek cheesy lumps, instead damned near euphoric at how much bigger my boobs have gotten. I swear, I could end up looking exactly like a South Park Cartman/Jabba the Hut hybrid, but as long as my boobs stayed firm and in proportion, Eric would still be copping a feel every chance he got. Body image.... Jesus, the evil this world's done to it!

There's a ton more that's been going on, so in these last muddled paragraphs, I'll try to include most of it in as few words as possible, ok? Thanksgiving-spent two hours in Mineola, the rest at home doing what we wanted to do. Mom and siblings are still as worrisome and annoying, my sister is still slowly killing herself, and I'm still trying to stop her. My MIL and FIL are still living with my BIL, my SIL has left her 'husband' (I say that because though they had a ceremony, they didn't legally get married due to the fact that SIL still hasn't divorced her first husband), and the rest of my in-laws are all still doing what they're doing, and after typing out the above parts of this paragraph, I still can't believe I only have one relative who's been on Jerry Springer. Moving on, I've written a bit more when time allowed, read some more when the same time allowed, and am continually disappointed when I see fanfic writers not doing anything new, but rather re-distributing their old stuff over and over again. You know who you are, so kiss my ass if it offends you. You know you can do better.

Reality TV dating shows are sleazier than ever. Tila Tequila and New York I'm convinced have hook-toothed remoras attached to their vaginal walls, making Bret Michaels look like Cindy Brady, and I also have to apologize for bitching so much about Ina Garten, the Barefoot Contessa. Though I still think her husband is a mealy little turd, there is no other cooking show on any channel in the world I have been able to watch and actually replicate delicious meals from.

Oh, I'd post a picture with this rant.... IF my cats hadn't drenched my Olympus digital camera in urine, destroying all capabilities this expensive piece of technology once had and will never have again. Go cats!!!!!! Just don't piss on my cell phone; it's the only source I have at the moment for taking fuzzy and grainy pictures;)

Damn, this was all shallow, not well written, but it's at least something, and to make it all that much more so of everything, I'll end with this note:

Clinton for president!!!!! 'Nuff said;)

Nov. 19, 2007- Just Me getting 'My Bah-Humbuggin' on a Little Early in the Season

Thanksgiving... oooohhh... someone get me Kevorkian and a shitload of Valium.

Seriously, I actually am completely in support of the 'idea' of this holiday; it just pisses me off that the original intended meaning of this day rarely is the main focus, if any of the focus. Instead of being thankful for whatever you eat that day/that you're even able to eat, who you're with, the blessings you have, etc., it, at least in my experience, almost always ends up being about a big fat crappy dollop of other stuff. It's more about some people slaving all day to make the standard staples society-bullied tradition tells them they have to prepare while the other half either sits around and gets drunk, or watches football while getting drunk. And rather than take this opportunity to reflect on what in your life there is to be truly thankful about, I've noticed, once again... in my experience, that too many folks use this too-oft-forced family gathering to let the dysfunction usually hidden better fly like bats out of a cave at dusk.

First of all, I hate turkey. I've had it in every way, shape, and form, and other than the skin at its crispiest, it's still just about the blandest meat one could ever slave over preparing or eating. Cranberries I only eat if I have a bladder infection (I HATE the cylindrical gel stuff sliced straight from the Ocean Spray can), green bean casserole I think is proof that food can be retarded, and pumpkin pie, cornbread stuffing, along with giblet gravy, excites me about as much as the thought of getting a lap dance from Wolf Blitzer dressed in a purple sequined banana hammock and tasseled pasties.

Second of all, I hate that the majority of my male family thinks that this holiday rocks, simply because it's complete license to sit around and watch not only football games, but entirely unnecessary 'pre-game' coverage, chugging beer, soda, huffing Rustoleum or steroids, whatever, and huddling together in their man-cave, only to emerge from it just long enough to grab a plate of food, fart a couple of times, grunt in approval (or just grunt), then return back to their lair, feeling they've done their duty within the time frame half-time allows.

I basically just hate that the true message of this holiday, just like Christmas, has been lost to so many, but what I really hate the most is when my family members have the nerve to get pissed off at me and Eric when we don't either orgasm or salivate at the thought of spending any of this holiday with any of them. And it's even worse reaction from them when we decide not to drive to several different locations on the same day, instead picking just one Inferno instead of all of them.

And here's what we have to choose from:

-My Dad and Stepmom, who will more than likely have a way too formal dinner, involving the 'fancy' table, extra leaf, best china, and all, its seats filled by Judy's family, who I never 'got' in all my years of knowing them (these people lived for both church and HeeHaw, a soul-crushing combination), never really want to 'get', watching Judy stare at her sisters' biological children with adoration, somehow convinced that dental assistants and check-fraud borderline con-men/car salesman'ish' dreamers are deserving of her complete devotion. And in the meantime, Dad goes along with everything, as long as he doesn't have to cook, wash dishes, and can see the T.V. screen from the dining room during the Cowboys game.

-Eric's family... Eric's brother, his brother's wife, and their three kids all have Eric's mom and dad living with them. Not only them, but since the MIL lost her house, then had to move out of the house she was renting, the BIL's three bedroom house is now filled with seven people who fight all the time, along with two houses worth of stuff shoved into every nook and cranny. Add that to the fact that the MIL criticizes Eric's brother's wife and her cleaning habits, criticizes basically everything she possibly can by nature, and loves to be the one in charge of any roof she's under, and you can pretty Goddamned well count me out of any holiday gathering that involves massive stress, massive cooking, and massive collections of opposing personalities all under this one roof. I honestly should think about selling tickets to this to both WWF and reality talk show fans, skipping out just before the show begins, then using the money earned to get the MIL her own place. I'm sorry, but it just takes a lot for me to be willing to listen to all the gossip I know I'm gonna hear, eat the dry and cafeteria-like food while wishing to God I could just go home and not watch everyone pretend to like each other face-to-face, endure the hyperbaric rantings of the MIL, the macho boastings of the BIL, Eric constantly sneaking outside to have a smoke while I'm stuck inside, listening to this or helping out with that. If I can take a break for bitching for just a moment, it would be to say that at least Eric would enjoy spending time with his big brother, and I would be grateful that we both got to spend time with Eric's dad.

-My mother and siblings in Mineola... Jesus, the prophecy I can see with this one is almost too much to think about. Almost. Even before the drive to Mineola, I will have been up all night the night before, making extra food because I know my mother will buy the smallest amounts of everything and simply not make enough. Also, she'll call me at the last minute and ask me to drive by my sister's apartment, wait on her for at least an hour while I brave her crack-addicted boyfriend and try to be polite while Donna gets ready, then take Donna with us to Mineola while she tells us the entire hour-and-a-half about all the fucked up things she's doing. Oh, and this is all so that Mom can save the 19 dollars it would cost to have Donna ride up on the train. Okay, I know this particular complaint isn't very nice of me to make; I should be happy to drive family anywhere I'm already going, but y'all just don't know. If I can say anything, it's this; You just don't know my sister, and, two, she can much more easily smuggle crack onto an Amtrak train than she'll be able to smuggle into our HHR.

And once we get there, I'll see my brothers for a rough total of 10 minutes at a time, the time span being so short because the two constantly disappear into their rooms to hit their bongs, coming back out glassy-eyed and feelin' the love, stupid enough to think that Mom doesn't realize they're both smoking weed. Okay, maybe she is in denial enough to not admit their continued absences from the family gathering involves legally questionable herbs, but still. Eric and I will also get to hear more of Donna telling us all about herself, bragging about her Jerry Springer existence as if it's the coolest, my mother will go from Thanksgiving Matron to Tipsy Tipsy Tipsier hostess who, as the night wears on, will go from telling me about what great deal she found at the Mineola Goodwill to confessing to me yet another time that my father was the true love of her life, not a whole hell of a lot even said about Jim, my late stepdad, who I thought was a pretty damned good catch.

I know I sound so ungrateful about so much this time of year, which makes me just as bad as anyone I'm complaining about. But honestly, I bitch so strongly about this because as much as I am grateful for these people ultimately, it just irks the shit out of me that this 'thankful' season seems to always be the time period in which those I love choose to show me their worst, and I'm sorry, but that makes it really hard to be as Pilgrim/Indian as I should be.

Ultimately, I'd love to spend one Thanksgiving here at my house eating home made eggrolls with Wasabi, terriyaki sauce, and pickled ginger while Eric eats my BBQ pork ribs and potato salad, the both of us sitting together on our couch, in front of a really good movie we just ordered on cable, having just talked to all of our family via the phone, and hearing that they're not only not pissed off at us for having a truly grateful and happy evening, but are having one themselves. All of them.

Nov. 14, 2007- On a lighter note, yet still rife with negative energy;)

With my niece doing better and better, things calming down overall, I figured I'd take a break from whining about the lives of myself and everyone around me and just go back to more light-hearted fair. The topic this entry is 'Reality Television I Love To Hate':

-Keeping up with the Kardashians(E!)... hugely voluptuous ass and sex tape or not; do we really need to watch yet another shallow Hollywood family try to convince themselves that they're not leeching off their hot family member, but that their lives are worth living? That they're actually interesting? Apparently, we do, 'cause I just can't seem to keep myself from watching this unbelievably mediocre show. Why is this family rich? And am I the only one who thinks that Bruce Jenner had to have been the puppet maker's model for Tales From The Crypt's Cryptkeeper? I swear to God, everytime I watch this show and Bruce shows up on screen, I keep waiting for him to cackle hideously just before introducing the next horror story short.

-The Steve Wilcos Show(Syndicated)... This man is retarded, completely devoid of any true psychological counseling skills, used to work as Jerry Springer's stage security, yet now he has his own hour-long show in which he 'saves the world' of the people considered 'not good enough to be on Springer'. His verbal skills often fail him, the show's been on the air not even one season and is already becoming repetitive, however I can't help but tune in whenever I can, just to watch the equally retarded audience worship him while he time and time again contradicts himself. Morbidly fascinating are two words I never used more accurately when describing any reality television show.

-A Shot at Love With Tila Tequila (MTV)... ok, this whole show is just wrong in so many ways, and not because this woman is a bisexual looking to find her true mate by filtering through a crowd of straight men and lesbian women. It's wrong because I don't even know who this woman is, don't care, and really don't understand why anybody would go through the hell they go through on this show just for a chance to be this woman's boyfriend or girlfriend. Believe it or not, I'm even more confused than I was about women competing for a chance to be with Flavor Flav. At least he was interesting... an idiot, but interesting. Any final shot decided on during this show's finale I guarantee you is going to miss the mark, yet all of the above is why I just can't refrain from watching. I consider this show my 'sit-com' indulgence.

-Barefoot Contessa (Food Network)... I want to fly up to this cooking show homemaker's town, find her house, and beat her the fuck down until she starts to act like a real woman. Her name is Ina Garten, she can cook some seriously wonderful food, but this woman is more up her husband's ass than an over-lubricated dildo up any oriface in a porn film. Her husband's name is Jeffrey... not Jeff, the more manly name, but Jeffrey, and on half of her shows, the little squat boringly dorky guy is out of town for work, is about to come home, and she's going on and on about how he's coming home soon, and she can't wait to cook the meal he demanded she'd have ready for him. Friday nights are roasted chicken nights; Jeffrey insists on it, and Ina absolutely loves to show us how she roasts his chicken, makes elegantly Martha Stewart'ish' accompanying side dishes, then sets the dinner table just right for his arrival, damned near chanting the man's name some 600 times in between telling us how to cook the recipes she's preparing. 'Jeffrey loves this, Jeffrey loves that, so I'm going to make it with a smile, and I'm adding this or that to the roasted tomato, mozzarella, and basil salad because maybe if it makes the salad taste that much better, Jeffrey will stop fucking his secretary and pay attention to me again'. Okay, she didn't say that last bit outright, but she might as well. Her short and unattractive husband gives her minimal affection on screen, and knowing that he's often away 5 days a week (because she tells us, the viewers, that often), combined with Ina's whole Stepford Wife demeanor, tells me that this woman can cook like nobody's business, but needs a bitchslapping. So I keep watching... because her food rocks, and because I hope to God someday I see her making food for herself for once. And if I were to tune in one day and hear her say something like 'Fuck you, Jeffrey. It's Friday and I'm having fettucine alfredo because I'm sick of roasted chicken. Your Swanson TV dinner's in the freezer; learn to use the microwave, you asshole', I will know beyond all doubt that there is a God;)

-America's Most Smartest Model... I hate this show because it's brutally cruel to people, but I love this show because at least it's cruel to vapid models. Still, I just love cringing while watching this show, strongly suspecting that Ben Stein's traumatic youth had a lot to do with why this show is so merciless to hotties.

-I Love New York 2 (VH-1)... Is it just me, or does this show have high ratings because we all are just fascinated with the hows and whys so many men would compete violently for the ultimate affections of a woman who has no talent, freaky looks, a textbook camera-craving 'stagemom wannabe' mother, and any combination of co-existing veneral diseases? I dunno, but what I do know is that I can't wait to find out what muscle-bound idiot ends up losing by winning;)

-Making Menudo (MTV)- Yes, they're trying to bring back the next big Latino Boy Band, a la American Idol auditions and elminations. And though I've only seen one episode, I'm curious to see if they can successfully gather up enough cute pre-teen Hispanic males that even come close to bringing in the bucks Ricky Martin brought them long before we all got sick of 'La Vida Loca'. From what I've seen thus far, I'm betting this new Menudo group has about as much success as Jennifer Love Hewitt's music career had. Yes, folks, the horror genre actress actually can sing, though apparently not good enough.

That's the list for now, though SO many more exist.

Nov. 12, 2007- The Definition of the Whiny Rant

When it rains, it pours, so if you're not in the mood for whining, close this page and go about your business, folks. I won't blame you.

After Callie passed away, things seemed to be peaceful and smooth... for a few hours.

On Friday, my sister-in-law was driving down a busy road just outside of Fort Worth, on her way to work, when traffic suddenly slowed, and the driver behind her slammed into her, hooking her rear bumper and sending her into a high-speed spin off the road and across the grass, her truck ultimately slamming into two trees and bending into impossible shapes until it was wedged between them. Eric had just gotten off work, was on his way home when the police called him, telling him that she was refusing to go to the hospital, even though she really needed to. So, the first half of the day was spent with Eric going out to the accident site, convincing her to go to the hospital, driving her there, and trying to keep her awake and conscious while they took their time getting to finally seeing her, not to mention contacting her insurance company and call the rest of the family. And in the meantime, I'm sitting here at home, freaking out, texting him and calling him every few minutes to see how she is, if there's anything new going on, trying to keep him calm when I'm really just as nervous as he is. Fortunately, by mid-day, Cindy was cleared of any head injuries, internal injuries, any kind of life-threatening injuries, and in no time, Eric had her home and tucked into her bed, then back here where I sent him straight up to bed. Thank you, God, everything's okay today...

Yeah, right.

Just when I'm thinking things might get back to normal, Mom calls.

My niece Sarah was playing a match of volleyball with her Arizona college team when she collapsed suddenly and was rushed to the ER. Thinking she was okay, Sarah was released, and as she was brought back to her dorm, she tried to go into her old dorm room from the previous year, not even remembering her new dorm. This all happened on Tuesday, so remember, I'm hearing all of this on Friday. By Friday, Sarah was in the neurological ward, now having seizures, not doing well at all, and the doctors had no clue as of yet as to what was causing this.

As to the rest of this, I'm going to tread carefully, leaving some things out as to protect Sarah, but bitching as I usually do about other things, because I just feel they need to be bitched about. The one thing I will say is that the universal diagnosis was that Sarah has been under a lifetime of stress that she's tried so hard to survive and surpass, and until recently, successfully did just that. But even the strongest spirits get tired sometimes, and if they don't take a break, both physically and spiritually, they can break down for a spell.

As of today, Sarah is doing much, much better, the doctors know a reason behind this, but between Friday and today, the sad thing is that Sarah's wellbeing has not been the main subject of half the phone conversations I've had with everyone involved. I also learned some things I didn't know before, spoke with people I'd never really spoken to before, and basically, after the whirlwind of emotion I've personally experienced in just a couple of days, I don't know how this child has survived as long as she has before having an exhaustive collapse!

One- something I only just found out, something my mother, my sister, and everyone except for me knew about is that awhile ago, my sister gave half of Sarah's legal guardianship to a family she knew from the days when she tried to go to church regularly. I knew they were involved in Sarah's life, did things for her, and that they took her in in Arizona a couple of years ago so that she could live there and attend a special private high school there, but I also constantly heard complaints from my mother and brothers about how these people were too Bible-thumping, were almost cult-like, etc., etc., etc (yet I also noticed that none of my family doing the bitching ever took Sarah in themselves). I had NO idea Donna had actually given them half legal guardianship of Sarah, didn't know nearly as much about them as I've learned over the last couple of days (and that's my fault; I should have), but honestly, after talking to them intensely the last couple of days, about everything, y'all, I have to say that my sister's decision to let them take Sarah in for these last few years rather than her was the single smartest thing she's ever done. You all who've come here regularly know that I cringe at organized religion. I think that this form of belief restricts more than it encourages the kind of growth I know we were meant to achieve, but these people truly love my niece, and their concern over her, for her, with everything involving her, comes from a good place, a respectful one, and I think that Sarah has been encouraged to be herself far more than she's been oppressed by Bible verses. Something I'd like to end this paragraph by saying- these people never once said a negative word about any of my family, even when they easily could've, because their conversation really wasn't about my family; it was about Sarah, and how she was doing.

And my family? My mother has been complaining the last couple of days that she's pissed off about them wanting her to visit Sarah in a couple of days rather than immediately. They're telling her that Sarah doesn't want visitors, and she's sure they're lying, putting words into Sarah's mouth. This may sound reasonable, since I'm not explaining this well, leaving some details out, but let me just say that I could hear more in my mother's voice personal offense, more concern about what's thought about her than about what might be best for Sarah.

But that's nothing compared to my sister. When I talked to my sister Friday night, I literally heard about 60 seconds of how Sarah was doing, followed by 15 minutes of 'Paula, you won't believe what happened to me', 'I have a new boyfriend', 'You've GOT to come see my apartment, it's so cool', and so on. And every conversation since has been the same, if not worse. My brothers haven't even bothered to weigh in on the situation, I doubt they've even tried to talk to Sarah on the phone... how do I even type this and not cry about it? At least my Mom's on board. I've just made last minute plans for a trip up there.

I know I'm supposed to be loyal to family always, but after a great deal of painful thought, and a hell of a lot of heart-to-heart conversation with the people who've really been in Sarah's life the last several years, I would be lying if I said Sarah should be back with her mother, or watched over by anyone other than the family who's watching over her now. My mother is an alchoholic, a functioning one, an extremely intelligent one, my brothers are both loving, but just as dependent on outside things just to get them through the day, my sister is entirely a mess and I'm still trying to figure out how to get her committed indefinitely, just to keep her alive. They are all full of so much promise, I love them so much, but with all of that said, with as much love as I have for them, not a one of them as ever cared about anything more than they have themselves. And me? I'm no prize, either.

Granted, I'm the super young sibling, the baby raised away from all these family members for so long, raised differently, and granted, I haven't been told everything, didn't know as much as I now know, but still... to sit here and type out an admission that totally non-related people to my niece have done a better job than any of us have, or did, ain't easy. But it's true.

I have had my own life to live, and I've lived it, sometimes seeing some wrong things going on with my Mom's side of the family and doing nothing about it, sometimes not knowing enough of what was really going on, and not even trying to find out because I just didn't have it in me. I should have been a better aunt, my mother should have been a better mother and grandmother, my brothers should have been better uncles, better men, and my sister... oh, man, if I go into detail about her, I'll cry.

In the long run, that's all irrelevant. What is relevant is Sarah, what's going on with her now, and when it comes to that, while her entire family has failed her in one way or another, these people, the 'other' legal guardians who took her in and still watch over her now have done so much. And since Sarah's hospitalization, I have seen/felt/heard nothing but her best interests in their words and thoughts while my family tends to speak more about their familial rights, their egos being wounded, than what's best for this child.

Ultimately, I am on Sarah's side. I owe that child, I love that child, and no matter how much hell this rant is going to bring me from certain family members, I owe and love that child enough to put my ego aside and instead help the people who've already done so much for her continue to do so.

Oct. 7, 2007 Previous Rant Continued

I wrapped the last entry up early yesterday because Callie started to go downhill, or at least I thought. As sure as I was she was about to make her exit from this freaky world yesterday, she hung in there, and is eating a plate of Meow Mix Market Select as I type, so I've got a little time to continue without fearing too much. Add that with the fact that I had a whopping four hours sleep last night, waking up in between to carry her to the litterbox, and I may be just enough this side (the safe side) of hallucinogenic sleep deprivation to actually finish this entry;)

So, onto the rest of what I was going to write yesterday:

More about my plumbing dilemma- we sprung a leak in the main line... again, dug up the leaky spot, called the plumber, thinking this would be a quick fix, but since it never is a quick fix, it turns out that all of our main supply line is galvanized metal when it should be copper, and that you can't attach copper to galvanized piping, therefore, the entire line has to be redone in copper. Oh, and halfway through Eric and I talking about how screwed up this is, he realized something... Uh, isn't all of our plumbing in the house galvanized instead of copper? He says this out loud to the plumber, and the guy, I shit you not, had visible Richie Rich dollar signs instantly pop up in his irises. Fuck.

So, at this point, we're three estimates along (had to make sure the first plumber wasn't full of shit), and I'm just about ready to go and do the unthinkable just to keep this plumbing disaster under 3 grand.... Yes, that's right; I'm about ready to hire an illegal. As hypocritical as that is, I'm seriously thinking about doing that. I've got a temporary compression fitting keeping us able to wash stuff, bathe, drink, cook, etc., but this really has to be fixed... now, so send me vibes, y'all... please!!!!!

Oh, and may I please mention at this point that our former landlord, the man we ultimately bought the house from, E. Vance, is an asshole slumlord jerry-riggin' son of a goatwhore. We have spent more time fixing his half-assed repairs to this property over the years than we have actually doing the 'fun' improvements. I only call him these kinds of names because I absolutely KNOW that he both knew he wasn't doing things right, and didn't care. Didn't disclose to us, either. From the crappy plumbing fixits, to wiring, to re-roofing this house with super-cheap shingles I'm convinced he found at the dump... Ed Vance has taken every opportunity to dangerously quick-fix, buyer be damned, so that he can continue to live in his mansion in Sunnyvale, TX and live the high life. Then again, we rented this house for years, should've known all the problems before buying it, so I'm just grateful we both have been able to correct most of his 'stuff' ourselves. This plumbing thing is getting harder and harder to forgive, though.

This weekend, we went out for a much-needed scenic drive. Eric loves to drive (amazing he's not sick of it, given he's a trucker), so we made a little pen area for Callie in the back seat of the HHR so I could have her nearby, and headed out on Saturday to a couple of nearby landmarks I'd looked up. Saturday was a test run, me seeing how Callie would like it, so we hit just a couple of places, and thank God, she loved it. Anyway, we went out again Sunday, and this time, we hit both historical areas of significance as well as legendary paranormal ones, all outdoors, Miss Callie with us the whole time, me and Eric taking turns carrying her when we walked around, and she loved it:) The weather was fabulous, and she got the biggest kick out of sniffing the air, looking around at the outdoors she used to live in as a stray before we took her in, and she actually liked riding in the car, so as sad as the situation has been lately with her, it turned out to be a nice diversion for both her and us.

Back to paranormal landmarks we visited:

Flagpole Hill... supposedly haunted, and if you drive around it at night, rocks come flying at your car from nowhere, amongst other ominously spooky claims. Our experience? It's a bland semi-circle road without a trace of anything paranormal going on around it, though the trees are pretty;)

White Rock Lake... We both knew this was far-reaching before even driving around it. The basic story is that over the years, drivers have stopped to pick up a female hitch hiker, supposedly drenched and wandering aimlessly, they drive her to the address she asks them to take her to, and ultimately, she disappears, leaving a puddle in her seat, the driver goes to the door, knocks, and the man answering tells them that this is his daughter's ghost, a daughter who was in an accident years ago, she drowned as a result, yadda yadda. Sound familiar? It should, because this urban legend's been around in nearly every major area of the country since urban legends began. Needless to say, we still drove around the lake, just for fun, and the only thing we saw were some extremely dorky Lance Armstrong wannabe night-cyclists in glowing Spandex, along with one unbelievably cliched homeless guy staggering around the spillway area, drinking from a brown paper bag, I shit you not;)

Smiley's Grave... In nearby Garland, in Mills Cemetery, and this grave is rumored to be extremely haunted. The back story to this you'll read often is that a man named Smiley killed his family, then himself... or that he was killed in a shootout along with the rest of his family. Ominous enough, either story, but the real clincher I've heard for ages is that if you go to Smiley's grave and lie down on it, it's extremely difficult to get back up, supposedly because the arms of this distressed soul will grab you and hold you down. I actually had a little hope for this one because last year at Halloween, I heard a local DJ broadcast live from the grave, where she tried to test the legend, and she literally freaked as she tried to get up but couldn't immediately. Anyway, We found the grave, I stood there and held Callie while Eric did the actual testing, and I have never seen that man sit up so fast from a lying-down position;) In truth, the grave is interesting in that it's a family grave, and that three of the dates of death are on the same day. But after researching a little bit, it seems that the Smiley family grave consists of two people who met natural deaths at two different times, and three younger family members who were the unfortunate victims of a tornado that killed many that year. There's no spirit at unrest there, waiting to grab and keep the living trapped over the grave. Whoever thought this up and perpetuated the legend is brilliant, if not a bit annoying;)

The one place I did feel 'something' at was Lyon's Cemetery, in Sunnyvale. We didn't go there for the paranormal angle at all, actually. I'd read previously a great deal of the history of the place and those buried in it from the Dallas County Archives (a couple of prominent founders are buried there), and just wanted to see it. It's a tiny little, very old cemetery out in the boondocks where a majority of those interred were tragically young smallpox victims, unkempt, unmowed, the headstones are crumbling, but as we walked up and read the landmark, then walked around and paid our respects to each stone, two things happened. One, Eric felt pulled to an area on the other, more empty side of the cemetery, and sure enough, when he followed it, he found a single marker almost buried in the brush... and he knew it would be there. Two, on the other side of the cemetery, I felt the strong sensation of a young woman sobbing her guts out over in the area of one small headstone. Don't know how to explain it except to say that I couldn't hear her, but I could feel her sobbing, and when I went straight to that grave, I saw a headstone with a sleeping lamb carved out on top, barely recognizable as a lamb, and the inscription told me that a mother and father had lost a newborn. I didn't feel the father there, but I felt Mother, and her grief was deep. I actually felt more at this little tiny gravestone than I did at Marie Laveau's tomb in New Orleans, or any of the graves there, for that matter. Long story short, I think what I felt was residual, me picking up on a memory, but Eric's experience was different, and I'm going to research this one headstone he was drawn to, check records and archives and see what I can find. I've just got to, 'cause Eric doesn't have the kinds of 'pulls' I've had. This will be interesting to find out, and I'll share as I learn, folks... that is, those of you who are cool enough to not think I'm a loon.

In the meantime, I've got to run again. Callie needs some attention, dogs need walking, I need food, and while writing this, I ignored a phone call from a plumber that I should've taken;) Those of you who think you're forgotten, please know you aren't. My online days of talking with you have been absently crappy lately, but I'm still here, and don't plan on leaving. What I do plan on is finally updating these 'under construction' pages, answering emails more often, and catching up on everything I should've caught up on ages ago!

Oct. 6, 2007

Well, I am officially going on hour 28 of no sleep, because I'm on what I've come to call 'hospice watch' here at the house. Miss Callie is weakening despite everything, can't even walk now, and at this point I'm sure more than one of you are asking why I don't just put her out of her misery. My answer to that starts with 'Whose misery?'.

Having as many handicapped, terminally ill and senior furkids as I've had over the years, I have learned a lot about euthanasia, particularly when it's right and when it's wrong. Too many people euthanize a pet too soon, if you ask me. They tell themselves they're doing the right thing, putting this animal down whose appearance just isn't as 'feasible' to them now compared to the younger and healthier animal they once knew. They euthanize their pets at a point where they just don't want to deal with the change anymore, at a convenient time... not when their furkid tells them its time.

At risk of being too unplesantly graphic here, Miss Callie is skin and bones right now, despite prescription meds, fluids, supplements, everything. She can barely stand, in the last couple of days, I've had to carry her to the litter box when she tells me she needs to go, I have to help her groom herself, and when she does get up and weakly walk around, I have to stop everything I'm doing and follow her to make sure she doesn't need help. Why don't I put her to sleep? Hell, it would so convenient for me to get a few hours sleep right now, be able to clean and cook and do other stuff I've had to put off the last few days... but that's just it; it would be convenient for me.

The difference I've come to see so clearly in my days as the infamous 'catwoman' or pet person is that it's not convenient for her. She is not in pain, she is alert and tells me every second with her eyes and her being that she's not ready to go yet, despite how much easier and well-rested I'd be if I helped her right now. And until those eyes go blank in their abandoned stare, that spirit I no longer feel present in her still breathing body, that will I see suddenly absent, then hey, folks, think I'm mean, think It's animal abuse, but this girl will die on her own terms. And whether it's her finally telling me it's time to go up the street to Buckner, or whether it's here in my arms, Miss Callie will see that Rainbow Bridge the way she wants to see it, no matter how much I may or may not agree. And my advice to anyone with a pet in the same situation is that you should always listen to them before you do yourself, not to mention any vet. If you do that, you'll never make a mistake, never feel the kind of regret so many people do, because if you really listen to them, they'll really tell you what to do.

And if you do any less than what they want, don't email me about it.

Halloween, 2007

I am so entirely out of the loop with the happenings of my online buddies lately, it's a trip to even try to go through this pile of email I have here lately. This person is talking about a pet whose name I never heard before, that person is back with an ex they hated last time I kept up, I missed three invitations to really cool events, just 'cause I didn't open the email in time, etc., etc., and the list goes on. I suck;)

Honestly, I've just been way too busy here, with the good, the bad, everything that makes life life. My sister continues to worry me, and now... finally... is worrying everyone, so I've been checking on everything from organizing an intervention (and you have no idea how against interventions I've been in the past; they don't ever really seem to help anyone but the people organizing them) to seeing what legal means I can take to have Donna admitted long term. Honestly, though, I think I might actually get her to willingly check into a hospital indefinitely. Hard to explain, but she loves rehab, loves attention, including medical, and as bizarre as it sounds, I think an institution might just be something she'd agree to do. Anyway, I'm working on that, and as a result, I 'm so fucking sick of talking on the phone, I actually have developed somewhat of a respect... well, I wouldn't say respect, but at least a bit of understanding or mild appreciation for telemarketers. That said, I'm still going to fuck with every telemarketer who dares to call here, especially since every number I have is on the Do Not Call list.

Miss Callie is doing badly again, and I'm going to lose her soon. I was right; it is her kidneys, and despite everything she's getting now, she's still wasting away and getting weaker. She's comfortable, so I hope her last moments will be able to play out here at home with us by her side, but if it should turn painful, if she tells me, we'll have to take her back to the new vet and help her to the other side. We're literally so close now to her leaving, I've been trying to find a vet who can come to the house for the procedure, should Callie need it. None will, and believe it or not, one of them actually told us why... I shit you not, they told me that they just don't consider this area for mobile visits because it's 'not desirable', as in full of illegal aliens, who are 'too cheap' to call them in the first place, and who would likely refuse to pay the fee once the visit was completed. Ugh.

Back to Callie- I bought her a little paw-shaped bed today, and she's out cold on it on the edge of my desk as I type. Her body is so frail, her appearance so disheartening, but her breathing is so deep and contented right now, her purrs kicking in when I rub her chin and back... there's a peace in this that I didn't often know before. I can't even begin to count how many deaths I've seen, can't begin to tell you how it bothers me now that I can be okay with any stage of any being's death. Yet, I am. Actually, I don't think the actual moment of passing has ever been the problem; it's the suffering up to that point that's always broken me, putting myself in their place, imagining the fear and the whirlwind of emotions never felt before they must be going through. But it's also been the good of knowing, really knowing, there's another side, combined with my finally accepting Nature's way sometimes instead of fighting it that's made me able to have this many animals, most of them old and getting older, knowing I'll see them all leave this world, yet still choosing to be a witness to it all instead of giving them all up. God, having just one or two pets would be SO nice, SO easy, but it also wouldn't be real, wouldn't be true, and wouldn't do. I am beyond all the stuff the motivational speakers on late night infomercials tell you, beyond Dr. Phil, Oprah, and every other person who still insists that life needs to be lived seeking out only the good, the functional, and the seemingly healthy. That's part of life, but by no means is it all of it. I need to see that not-so-good, need to experience the parts in me that weep instead of tingle with joy, learn from the disappointments and non-fairytale endings sometimes. And Callie, like so many of my furkids before her, and so many of the furkids still here, is here to make sure my soul experiences all of life, good and bad, healthy and ill, young and old, fun and extremely difficult. Anyway, I'm babbling now, but my point is that as this little calico ancient one lives her last days here, I'm going to make sure I don't miss a minute of it, good or bad, and I'm not going to regret a second. And I can honestly say that as this old fart of a friend of mine lies next to my pc monitor on her new bed, I can look at her and tell you with all my heart that I know she knows this.

Onto something else- Allison and Marie- I'm sending you both something, but it's going to have to wait a paycheck. I'm so sorry about this, but I just had a plumbing catastrophe that's resulted in a 2800 dollar bill (copper pipe and labor to install it has me convinced Eric and I both should've been plumbers), payable immediately, so please, please forgive me for the delay!

Finally, Halloween.... my favorite holiday, and despite all the bad stuff lately, I still love this season:) I went back down to Holloman Road this weekend and had an interesting experience. I parked at the high school down the road from Holloman, walked up, and found that the barrier to the road had been removed at some point since we were there last, and as I stood there, a work truck with a young mulleted NASCAR-looking fella pulled up onto the road's beginnings, got out and instead of yelling or asking questions, he smiled a semi-toothed smile, and ended up spending the next half-hour talking with me. Long story short, he's worked for the man who owns the cropland off the road for awhile now, uses the road and believes it's haunted, too, and refuses to go out there at night. He knew about the mother and child murdered there, but was more worried about the old man in coveralls and an engineer's cap he's seen there one minute, gone the next, the smell of gunpowder coming and going quickly around the road's bend (where I still wasn't able to bring myself to walk around), as well as the sound of what he called 'a very old woman humming a hymn he'd heard before but couldn't name'. And as Fingerhut catalog as he came off, there's no way he was making this up. I'm sorry, but that road isn't just an urban local legend. It's haunted, really haunted. I also asked him if he'd had problems with people hitting that road, and he said he'd seen a few, ran some off, left some alone, 'depending', but that since he didn't go down the road at night, he couldn't tell me exactly how many really have visited. This really reminds me to go back to my archives and remove all of that Holloman Road information. Anyway, interesting experience I'll talk more about later.

For now, I've gotta go. Got dinner to make, an old cat to give fluids to, a bowl of candy to get ready, and a snoring husband to wake up. Hope you're all doing well as of this update. Newbies, welcome, faithful friends, I love you, and everyone else, kumbaya!:)

Oct. 24-Quick notes

-I'm worried about my friends in Southern CA. With Nature's elements creating the perfect fire storm, I have one relative and two friends in the danger zone I haven't been able to contact yet, so I'm sending out especially hopeful vibes that their lives are not only safe, but untouched by any kind of tragedy. If any of you can add your vibes to mine, that'd be soooooooo appreciated!

-I've already been contacted re: the last rant about fan fiction, and all I can say is that if you're concerned enough that it's you I'm talking about, my answer isn't as important as how you took it, you know? Think about it.

-Ariane? Are you okay???? Forgive me for not making it online much, but please know that I'm still waiting to see what you've written next. Send it to me, and though I'm only online just enough to post a rant I wrote offline and quickly go through email lately, I will definitely download it and soak that sucker up:) I am still your fan, girl! And Sue? Sue, the Idahoan goddess of love and joy... I am so sorry I haven't been online like I used to be, but I need to let you in particular know that I adore you more than ever, and love the crap out of you;)

-I got a call from a woman in Austin last night, a former classmate of my mother, who wanted to invite my mother to her high school reunion in November, but didn't know how to contact her (I should've asked how she got my number, actually). I didn't give the info out, but promised the woman that I'd call my mom and give her all the details, have her call to confirm. When I called Mom, she sounded more like a stalker was after her than an innocent alumni, yet she still had that spark of interest. It took a good bit of convincing to get Mom to believe this wasn't a bad thing, telling her about my not being able to attend my own reunion this year though I wish I had, etc., to get her to agree to even contact this former classmate of hers. And that makes me realize and wonder just what my mom's early years really were like. As much as I think I know the mother I have now, it becomes increasingly clear to me that who my mom was before me is apparently the greatest stranger. Maybe getting to know that stranger would help both her and me, soooooooooo, I'm thinking I might call Mom back today, seeing if she contacted this woman or not, and despite her answer, seeing if I can get her to go to this event with me in tow. Honestly, this is a side of her I've never seen, and would like to see, kind of need to see. I don't know whether it's mom reuniting with old friends, or facing and conquering old demons, I think it needs to happen, and I think I should be there. I'll update you on the result;)

-Miss Callie, my stray rescue I thought was due to pass on soon, has actually improved in the last couple of days, once again fooling me, yet keeping me on my toes. She's ancient, literally ancient in cat years, but in the last two days, she's yet again rebounded enough to tell me she's not planning on exiting soon. Maybe the vet was right... okay, he probably was right, but I still say that her kidneys are the reason most of her other problems pop up, and maybe me shoving electrolytes down her throat as much as I can without pissing her off might be proof of that. In any case, Calliefornia, it's good to see you doing better, my furkid!:)

-On the same vet note, I find myself troubled lately, in a tough situation. I mourn Doc Schultze, but I also still need to go on with my pets, continue to look for a 'regular' new vet, but the problem is that I really need Doctor Schultze's records to truly accomplish that. His wife Gudie (yes, that's her name), should have them, at least I pray she kept all of his offices' records, but she hasn't sent them. This really concerns me, because I've had two vets, Dr. Greene and Dr. Ralston, pass away in the last 13 years, and after their passing, my furkids' records were all sent to me. Doc Schultze died in June, and I haven't heard from anyone since. I need those records, but how do I tastefully ask for them? I sent her flowers, wrote a heartfelt message for Doc's online obituary guestbook, but how can I feel good about bothering her now and asking for my records? If any of you have advice or tips about this, I would really appreciate it. I'd leave this alone if it didn't matter, but it does. I have too many animals here who've been treated by Doc Schultze for it not to matter.

-Finally, as Liberal as I can be, I found myself intensely offended by Obama the other morning, while watching either Fox News Channel or CNN (I can't remember exactly which channel it was, honestly). A few weeks ago, I'd heard that he refused to wear the patriot pin on his lapel other congressmen were wearing, but his explanation I felt was warranted: He said that too many people, including politicians, wore that pin more for approval factor (what I love to call the 'Toby Keith factor') than anything, and that he chose to demonstrate his support in other, more 'real' ways. I bought it then, completely understood that, but when I saw footage of him standing alongside his other Democratic hopefuls during the National Anthem, I couldn't explain away why he chose to stand facing more away from the flag than his fellow hopefuls, hand not over his heart, lips not honoring the symbolic words. I couldn't explain it, and I couldn't defend it. I really did respect this man until this moment. When I watched him 'suffering' our National Anthem more than honoring it, it both broke my heart and toughened it at the same time. I am not blindly patriotic, but I am also not ignorant of our country's greatness, and as a result, I will fight it when I think it's wrong, and I will defend it when I know it's right. Obama did neither in the footage I saw. More than anything, he worried me. Oprah, please consider throwing fundraisers for other candidates, kissing the ass of someone, anyone, who actually understands that this country was founded by men who knew they weren't perfect, weren't always right, that things would always change, and made sure that the constitution reflected such, made the 'such' subject able to change as times changed, better known as amendments. Bush has fucked our nation up enough, whether he's Republican or not, and whether he's Liberal or not, Obama is increasingly making me realize that hitting the other wing with my support can be just as dangerous.

And though Obama seems to challenge constantly the things he thinks most of us will also challenge, this time I think he misfired and attacked something even those most open-minded of us question seriously.

And that's it for today. Gotta go. I've got a pre-Halloween party to shop for, some dinner to cook, and some sleep to get.

October 23, 2007- The Winner, a Hacker, and the Top Ten

Congratulations, Allison;) Stanley stuck, despite so many other great contributions from friends, family, and readers. Stanley, Eric, and I will email you later and we'll figure out what the best prize for you is:) I heard some excellent suggestions in the last few days, and if I could afford it, I'd award more than just the winner. Carol's pick of Horratio Hornblower (the double r was intended) I loved, as I did Kinsey's 'Jack' (o'lantern), and the name 'Lawanda', submitted by real life and cyber life friends Kelly and Jewels made it extra hard to pick a winner. If I hadn't felt Stanley (not Stan, but Stanley) fit our new car the best, Lawanda would've won that prize in a heartbeat;)

Someone has been hacking/trying to hack me, I found out a little while ago. My stat site, my web-building site, and they've also tried to hit my AOL account, curiously never actually doing anything other than just trying to spy (this is just bizarre. As boring as I am, apparently some people's lives are even more so). An anonymous hacker not singling me out annoys me enough, but this person is specifically hitting me, and given some of the things I've said here, I'm not surprised, though, as I said before, I'm kinda bewildered and feeling sympathy. In any case, I'm just making public notice here that I know who you are, feel sorry for you, but not enough to not make your life a living hell should you continue this retardation. And no, it's not a fan-fiction person.

Speaking of fan-fiction, yesterday I went to an early dinner with some writer's group friends, and the subject of fan-fiction came up. I ended up feeling embarrassed that I'd ever taken part in the genre, these guys were so brutal. I had no idea that there were actual fan-fiction jokes out there, brutal-yet-I-have-to-admit-funny ones, and granted, I've felt for awhile now that the small few actually talented fan-fickers were using the genre as a crutch, but I don't think I've been nearly as brutal as the folks I talked to last night.

Anyway, it got me to thinking, and rather than get more and more bothered by it, I instead started thinking of the nerdier sides of fanfic I've seen and laughing my ass off at it, so I'd like to end this rant with a top ten list:

Ten Signs You're Addicted to Fan Fiction and Should Seek Immediate Help-

1. You name your newborn daughter or female pet (in most cases, since apparently so many fan fickers don't have sex), Haggrida

2. At least two of your last three Googles involved the terms LOTR, Buffy, or any celebrity name that's been in at least one cult sci-fi/horror film.

3. You are at least 25 years old, and own more than one action figure, belong to more than one sci-fi message board, and are online friends with people named Spock292, Ardeth4eva, Pokemonchick, Dumbledoresbabe12, etc.

4. You can speak more than two words in Elvin, Vulcan, Medjai Arabic, or the like... and do it often.

5. You actually cried when any Harry Potter character died, and still argue with the nerd clan around you that their deaths weren't really 'deaths', that the character may return... right? RIGHT????

6. Your utitility bills often go unpaid, depending on whether or not a sci-fi convention is in town.  And when you finally do attend the convention, you end up calling the actor signing glossies by their character name rather than the actor's name, asking them how they were able to override the space ship missile lock code and launch anyway when 'we all' know that it takes at least ten coosnips of power to engage manual override against a Bleeblock attack, and that in the last episode, the spaceship only had 6 coosnips.  Jesus Christ, it was sad writing this. 

7. Your bedroom has taken you years to perfect, given that it's so hard now to find drapes that match your Darth Vader/C-3PO bed in a bag.

8. When masturbating (or on the rare occasion you actually have sex with another person in the room), you can't achieve climax unless you imagine yourself being pleasured by a Medjai, vampire, Hobbit, or Wookie.

9. You were able to dress as Captain Jack Sparrow for Halloween... without having to actually buy anything costume wise. I actually know someone who fits this category, and I pray for her.

10. You turn down a date because the Stargate Atlantis marathon is on that night, and you don't have Tivo.

I'm sorry, y'all, but these are more true than most of the guilty want to admit. I've met a few of these in my day, and it's made me grateful that I also know enough fan fictioners who have real lives. Trekkies started it, and thanks to the internet, the Trekkies are SO not alone now in their misdirected and over-applied obsessions. But as sad as it is, at least they were interesting;)

Oct. 21- I love this month, plus hoobly dooble, slicky poo, and incidentals

• This is my favorite month, favorite season, favorite holiday, and finally, I'm feeling my favorite weather, which is chilly:) If there is a negative... actually, I've seen a couple this month... it's that there still aren't any good horror movies all over my cable nightly, and that 'seasonal' local ghost people tend to hit the stats more, which tells me that more pseudo ghost hunters are going to be desecrating local haunts, including the Baker and Holloman Road, completely convinced from watching Sci Fi's Ghost Hunters, that they have every right to do so. And if I could find a better adjective, I would, but none fits more than to say that this just sucks.

• I LOVE this Chevy HHR!!!!!!! Knock on wood;) The gas mileage is proving to be soooooooo much better, the ride is soooooooo smooth, and I just love going outside and being able to start the sucker up with my keychain before I even get in the thing;) I say 'knock on wood' because as happy as I am with my new little guy, watch me drive up to the 'Mart', only to park, walk in, and hear the engine explode and the hood fly up and crash land on a Mercedes, resulting in not just an insurance claim, but a lawsuit for millions from the 'cedes owner. I've just become that cynical, expecting most guilty pleasures in my life to end up being just that... guilty.

• When it comes to the competition in naming our new car, I'm giving it two more days, but I think the name to be beat is 'Stanley', contributed by my friend Allison. Not only do I love the fact that her suggestion of Stanley is based on Stanley Kubrick, of 'A Clockwork Orange', I also love the name Stanley, and... the seemingly clinching piece of karmic proof came today when I finally made it online and saw a shitload of pictures sent to me by my Catbroad Danielle, who'd just returned from a visit to the Stanley Hotel, the Colorado landmark more commonly known as Stephen King's 'Overlook' hotel from 'The Shining'. Maybe I shouldn't be sharing so much with a couple days left of competition left, but then again, maybe I'm thinking that one of you can give me that mix of Fate and thought that will blow my mind beyond comprehension.

• My mother emailed me the other day, thanking me for getting her a hotel room, and then telling me about how bad my sister looks, citing her lack of muscle tone, extreme weight loss, etc. But she still just couldn't bring herself to say that it's because Donna's on crack. All she could manage was to say that she was glad Donna had an upper level high-dollar apartment, because maybe the stairs would be good for her. Jesus Christ!!!!!! I wrote back immediately and told her that her daughter/ my sister is that way because she's addicted to crack, wants to die, stairs don't make a flip of difference at this point, and that unless all of us admit it and try to do something soon, we'll be at just about the saddest, most tragic funeral any of us have ever seen soon, that we all have to get together and really DO something before the worst happens. To date, Mom hasn't contacted me back. I don't think she has it in her to, so I'll have to call tonight and talk to her about it, which will still be awkward, dealing with her denial. It's also sad that I just sort of insert this really important train of thought into today's rant in this random way. It's hard to explain why... other than to say that I can only do so much, and even after praying that doing so much might make a difference, there comes a point where you know that alone, shit ain't going to happen. Donna's life truly becoming better can only happen if she wants it, basically, but it sure as hell doesn't help if most of her family doesn't even want to admit that there's a real problem to begin with. And with that, I'm done, at least until a few other family members let me know they'll be willing to do what we all need to do together. This may sound something short of 'family commitment' to some of you, but to the rest of you who've seen what I've seen, know what I know, I thank you for the understanding rather than judgement.

• My ancient calico, Miss Calliefornia, who I was convinced over a year ago was going to die then, survived and did well until a week ago. And I think that her days of cheating the Other Side are this time really coming to an end. With Doc Shultze on the other side now, it was hard finding a good vet, and I'm still not sure I did a few days ago when I took Callie in. See, I'm still convinced that her kidneys are about to completely go out, the new, very expensive vet says that her kidneys aren't functioning well, but thinks that it's a mouth problem more than a kidney problem causing her downward spiral lately. And as a result, it's been hell convincing a new vet that I need bagged fluids and needles that I can take home rather than pay extra to have a vet tech with less experience than I have administer. Doc Shultze, I miss you!!!!!! And Miss Callie, I hope I don't have to miss you too soon! I'll keep looking, my little calico gal, until they've all exhausted my hope, or even better, until at least one of them's renewed it.

• My neighbors, the usually quiet ones from the Honduras, had a huge party last night, some fifty-plus people in attendance, and though I was amazed that not a one of them made a single sound that penetrated my living space, I have to admit that I got a little pissed to walk outside at around nine last night and see that a football game was taking place in my yard, not a single person asking if they could use our 'space' for fun. Am I wrong here? If most of you think I am, I'm sorry, but if I did most anything, other than taking an animal from an asshole neighbor, that involved me encroaching on neighbor's property, I'd only do it after talking to the neighbor and getting consent first. That's just a respect thing. Still, Eric and I didn't do anything other than pull our car way up the driveway, out of the damage range any football can do. I can be so confrontational in so many ways, but when it comes to normally cool people suddenly acting like bastards, seems I get kinda flustered and let things ride. But maybe I should, you know? Maybe Eric and I might want to invite every redneck, hairband from the 80's wannabe fan, and whoever else our neighbors relate least with, and throw a huge bash in our backyard. Something tells me that we will be able to have just as much fun, sans just as much bitching, as we gave them.

• Gotta go, there's a world more to talk about, but I've got a mom to call, pets to check on, and a few other things, but I think those of you who make this regular trek here will forgive me for it;)

Oct. 16, 2007- Back from vacation, and brain-addled, so how this entry develops, we'll all have to just find out

Eric and I did a lot this week... as much as a couple of pet-laden people can, but I'll tell ya, this was a good week overall:)

We saw the Fort Worth Stockyards (not only historically and currently cool, but ghostly cool, too), the Ripley's Believe it or Not/Palace of Wax in Grand Prairie (huge disappointment; only the Johnny Depp and Whoopi Goldberg figures looked lifelike, and the world's smallest painting on a grain of rice I could barely see enough to appreciate), the State Fair (don't ever eat at the Old Mill Inn at Fair Park, you Texans... it's only good for historical appreciation, 'cause the food tastes like hair-netted zombies from 1978 opened a few equally old cans of veggies and pseudo soy-meat, then heated it up), and we visited a few other places nearby this week.

We splurged on dining more than anything this last week, from the city's best cajun dining at the Alligator Cafe (their Boudain balls were to die for, and the etoufee melted in our mouths) to Dallas and Fort Worth's best sushi, to surprisingly Lower Greenville Italian Cuisine at Pietro's (antipasto was never as savory as this place had). I don't even want to see this next balance on my Anne Geddes Platinum card.

Speaking of credit cards, fine dining charges aside, it got much higher, thanks to my sister. My mom was headed to a family reunion this last weekend, decided to stop here in the Big D and stay with my sister for a night or two, which I think would've been nothing less than great had my sister not called a couple of days before Mom's arrival and told me this, in a nutshell:

Right out of rehab, right after snagging a 1,000 dollar a month plus apartment for less than 30 bucks a month, courtesy of disability payments/government assistance, my sister invited her ex-boyfriend over (yet another loser abuser she's continually hooked up with), along with a new 'friend' she'd made, some girl she met off the street, and by the time she'd called me, seems said ex-boyfriend had cracked himself out, threw Donna through a mirrored wall in her new government-paid apartment in his quest to sexually assault Donna's new friend, a quest he successfully completed. The police were called out, including the crime lab, but only after he was long gone, Donna and her friend Julie were both treated at hospitals, Donna's wrist is broken, she's covered in lacerations from the mirror shards, yet as she tells me all of this on the phone, she sounds more like a lottery winner than a victim. She also discloses to me in the same phone call that she's 'pretty sure' her son is staying with her estranged daughter, my niece Dorothy (Jordan is indeed staying with Dorothy, I happen to know already), and that she's afraid of Mom coming to stay with her. Why? Not because this crazy son of a bitch is on the loose and could return while Mom's there, easily including my 66 year old mother in his tirade, but because Donna is afraid that Mom's going to show up, see her wrist cast, the cuts on her face, want to know what happened, then give her hell about it. My immediate question to my sister was 'Donna, what makes you think it's safe to have Mom stay with you, and why in hell won't you tell Mom about this ahead of time? If you want to stay there, that's your decision, though I really don't want to bury you any time soon. But letting anyone else stay there, Mom or otherwise, without telling them is just wrong!'.

Long story short, Donna couldn't tell Mom about what had happened, she was so afraid of Mom's reaction, but she agreed to let me tell Mom, which I did, and I ended up getting Mom a hotel room this weekend, down the street from Donna's apartment, and out of harm's way.

And Mom's reaction? Pissed off at Donna, not concerned over Donna's safety nearly as much as her own, and happily jumping on my offer to pay for her hotel stay.

What in the fuck is wrong with this family? Why don't the strong stand up for the weak more, and why don't the weak hate being weak? I think my sister's ultimate dream would be to die some horrible death that made her look the most sympathetic, and I think my mother's ultimate dream would be for everyone to look at her with extreme sympathy over her weak child's death. Oh, and my brothers? Neither wanted anything to do with this particular Donna situation. Can't really blame them, either, except to say that them not caring isn't because they've tried and failed at helping anyone. They simply don't care if caring involves too much sacrifice.

How do you help family when this is the case? How do you even call yourself a family when the rule of the day, the week, the month, year, decade and beyond is to look out for and focus on number one beyond all else? Jesus Christ, my family is so fucked up.

Hey, selfishness rules in my family, in their drama, their lifestyle, their decisions, their communications with me, and I'd be an idiot to think I'm the sole survivor of this selfish family. I'm selfish, too, in more ways than I care to admit. But Jesus Christ, I would like to at least think that a part of me has grown beyond what I've seen all my life, evolved past the sister with issues, the mother burdened with insecurities, the brothers too afraid to ever stand up for anything, and I hope that my evolution has proved itself in my actions, doing what nobody else will do, saying what nobody else will say, confronting, paying for, and if anything, refusing to ignore the 'stuff' that's fucked up this family.

My kin tend to live by the muddled adage 'If it's broke, but the majority of us tend to say it ain't broke, don't fix it.'

Funny how that adage sits so well with my family, yet always results in someone, usually me, having to fix stuff.

Anyway, I had a great vacation, trips to here and there, saw a lot of good, a lot of bad, and enjoyed some, handled the rest, bitched about it here and beyond. Through it all, I love them all, love it all, and try my best not to join them all.

P.S.- I've gotten a lot of suggestions for names for the car, but I think, thanks to my generic diary entry, some got confused and think I'm trying to name the striped cat in the graphic below the photo of our new car, so let me reiterate... I'm looking for a name for our new orange Chevy HHR. We always try to name our car, as it's a superstitious thing; I feel that if my car has a name and personality, it's likely to run better for me, and that's usually been the case;) So please keep contributing your name choices. When I pick the winner, I will absolutely pick the best prize for you in particular. If you like coffee, I'll reward you with a Starbucks gift certificate, if you're a writer, I'll gift you with a certificate for writer's supplies, if you're an animal lover, PetSmart free stuff will be in your future, and so on. Okay, hopefully this clears things up, so keep submitting, and you can resubmit if you misunderstood the initial challenge;)

Oct. 12, 2007 Just lettin' you all know

Eric and I have been on vacation this last week. Having all these handicapped animals, we haven't been able to go away to any one place for very long, so we've been taking day trips every day, and so far, we've been enjoying it. Anyway, just letting you all know that I've barely been able to log on more than once a day (and for about 5 minutes tops at that), but I'll be back come Monday:) There's a lot to report, and as soon as I'm officially back in business, you'll hear all about it, whether you want to or not!

In the meantime, keep yourselves safe, happy, and to those of you who aren't writing... START!!!!!!!!!

Oct 05, 2007- A Journey's End

Half of you are going to laugh at me, the other half (my favorite ones), are going to know where I'm coming from with this next couple of paragraphs.

I have cried like a baby over the deaths of only a couple of famous people I've never met. When Diana died, I felt affected... as if I'd lost someone actually in my life, close to me. I thought I'd felt that deeply enough, but when Steve Irwin died... dear God, my heart thoroughly broke. I bawled my eyes out at that one, but only after I'd recovered from the shock.

And now there's a third, one I'll probably be judged for...

Don't know how many of you watch Meerkat Manor, a TV program on Animal Planet following the lives of different clans of Meerkats in Africa, but I finally caught up on a few episodes a few days ago, and felt a kind of mourning I've only felt when cradling one of my own animals in my arms during their last moments of life.

Her name was Flower, and she was the leader of the largest Meerkat group featured on the show, the Whiskers. For years, I watched her lead her group, keep them alive, nurture, teach, and make her family thrive in harsh conditions. She was the epitome of a matriarch, grand and fascinating to watch and root for. Just such a wonderful creature to have graced this earth.

And when I watched her final episode, her final moments on this earth, she continued to not fail my adoration of this tiny little mammal. In those last minutes, I saw her rescue a stray baby Meerkat left behind by a rival Meerkat clan, a baby too small to fend for itself in the harsh African heat, much less find his way home, carrying him in her mouth back to her own clan. I cried tears of 'Damn, sometimes this world really is good' as I watched this tiny little Meerkat baby saved when he so easily was likely to be killed by the Whiskers or the elements.

As Flower returned with this newly saved and adopted rival clan baby, she came upon the rest of her family, all gathered around a deadly Cape Cobra who'd encroached on Whisker territory, trying desperately as a group to keep it as far away from their underground burrow, where Flower's latest litter lay totally vulnerable. Risking death, they charged it together, frantically protecting the newborns at any price. At this point, my tears subsided, replaced by nail biting, and I wish they hadn't had reason to return.

But they did, and not in a good way. I cried as I saw the Cape Cobra slither straight into the Whiskers burrow, cried as Flower pushed ahead of the rest of the frantic Meerkats, the only one to go straight down into the burrow after the snake, knowing it was suicide yet not caring. The tears impossibly increased as this tiny little 3 pound at best momma took a deadly venomous hit directly to the head, saving her babies in the process, and in the last moments of the show, I was inconsolable as I watched the last horribly painful minutes of Flower's life... sobbed at the sight of her impossibly swollen face, her weakened body circling the ground around her in search of a proper place to die, so nobly accepting of what she knew was coming, what pain was already happening, so alone, so without anyone near her to soothe her and ease her into the next world, yet entirely okay with all of it, as long as her babies were okay.

She wasn't human, but my GOD, this planet lost one hell of a special soul Feb. 2007. We humans are so immersed in ourselves, our power, our influence... yet the majority of us will never impact those around us the way this tiny little furry matriarch did, nor will we die the kind of naturally heroic death this four-legged female did.

So, I mourn. I really do, and if it makes me look more like a nut than I already do, all I can say is watch Meerkat Manor's episode 10 'Journey's End', and if you still think I'm a nut, I'll pray for you. Even when we humans lose a pet we love dearly, we still are not allowed to mourn in any comparable way.

Above all, Flower... you did good, Momma. You are missed, and you will never be forgotten.

Sept. 27, 2007

We spent Saturday at Dad and Judy's. My Uncle Preston was in town, so there's absolutely no passing up getting a chance to visit with that crazy son of a bitch;) Preston's a nut, dysfunctional as hell while also successful, and is proud of it. The sad thing, though, is that Judy can't stand him. She's all about people being calm, always positive, and always behaving, but if you ask me, that's just kinda sad to me. I lived for years with her and my father, lived under those conditions, and when I finally broke free and lived on my own, It didn't take long for me to go from fearing those not like 'us' to embracing them. Difference is good, life is not the Cleavers, the Bundy's have their own lessons to enjoy and learn from, and I just think my stepmom has missed out on quite a bit, wanted me to miss out a bit while raising me, too. It's taken awhile in my adult years to go from idolizing her to truly understanding her with a healthier realistic attitude, but thank God, better late than never.

For example... we show up Saturday, and instead of us usually going out to dinner, Judy announces that we're going to cook out. Cool, I think. Finally, a more toned-down and relaxing kind of get-together. Then I go into the kitchen... the 'leaf' has been inserted into the mahogany dining table, and the best China is out, complete with designer silverware and crystal glasses. WTF? This is a cook out!!!! We're having steak, corn on the cob, and salad, Goddammit. Where in the hell are the paper plates and paper napkins????? Where's the beer??? What in the hell is wrong with you??????

Why does everything have to be so formal? The rest of us would've been pleased as pie to grill up some eatin', then sit outside, inside, wherever the hell we wanted and pigged out. Judy, I have got to make it a mission of mine to lighten you up. How much more anal can you be????

I have an interesting stepmother, the kind who one minute is as anus-puckered as Martha Stewart during a serious bout with paranoia, then the next minute is showing me how she uses her pendulum on a chain to decide which supplements she should take or recalling a particularly interesting session she had lately where she hypnotized a guy who was abducted by aliens. My time growing up with the both of them was spent, as I've said before, walking on eggshells, knowing I just was completely not like either of them, especially her. But what I'm finally getting for a change is that I am so fucking grateful those eggshells were there. There's a real world I chose to live in once I left my parents, and I see it, as shitty as it can be, but at least I'm not hiding from it. My life has not gotten better as a result of putting more of my energy into crystals, manners, and new age propriety instead of reality. I have hit a balance that's somewhat served me well in this life, and that's just the shit:) I love my stepmom, despite how I've bitched about the issues, love my father, despite the same, and maybe one of these days, I'll get Judy to do something totally not like her... maybe get her hopped up on mixed drinks at Gilley's, then coax her into riding the mechanical bull;)

I have spent the least amount online ever lately. Non-cyber life just hasn't allowed it, and making it online just long enough to clear out enough emails to keep my mail box from filling up has been a chore more than a joy. Speaking of that, Ariane, and a few of the rest of you, I got your email (s), and I am so sorry I haven't answered yet. I just can't catch up lately, but I want you to know that I value you, have not forgotten you, and believe it or not, am still here for you!

Anyway, back to one of the time-consuming non-cyber life heartbreaks we just had.

I found a house in Palestine, Texas that was just the house. Built in 1907, on 5 acres, Victorian, a staircase to DIE FOR, some renovations needed, but we could afford it, and get this, the price... 35K. Unbelievable!!!!!!! Long story short, we had the money ready to pay for this house outright, thought we had every communication and step in order, then find out at the zero hour that another couple had put in a contract painfully just before us. This was the deal of the century for us, it really was. We could've kept this house, worked on that one and this one at the same time, and been in hog heaven when this gorgeous old Victorian was finally ready to move into. Life can so completely suck sometimes. I just really felt this was the one, the house to finally let me let go of this one.

On a still-hopeful note, the contract on it by the other couple is still pending, things could fall through, at which point we will come in like vultures and snatch it. However, I have a feeling we've officially lost out. On another hopeful note, maybe that's just Fate assuring me that our real dream house is still out there, and that it's not time yet. Still, this is the closest I've come to just knowing a property was the one for us.

Speaking of this house, I did something I'd never have done before, and I'll be damned if it didn't work. I cleansed it with burning sage... yeah, I said it, you naysayers... I cleansed it. Ever since a few years ago, when so many dying animals came to me all at once, there's been a weight in these walls that I could neither like or explain in any non-paranormal way. I'd heard several times over the years about houses being cleansed of negative energy by burning sage in each room, saying prayers while doing so, etc. I never thought it'd work, always felt it was too 'Judy' for me, but when Eric and I were at Whole Foods, while I was heading from the organic cheese area over to the bakery, I passed a small display of incense, and there it was... sage torches/wands.

At this point, what can I lose, right? So I buy three of them, at a hefty 16 bucks a piece, and two days ago, I lit one, walked around my house, from room to room, saying basically that with the cleansing power of the sage smoke, I wanted all the spirits who may be trapped here freed and allowed to move on if they wanted to, I wanted all the negative energy here to wash away, replaced by hope, hatred replaced by love, illness defeated by thriving, and all that darkened this house starting five years ago no longer welcome here. And when Eric came home, bitched about the smell as I was still in the process of doing my rounds, I circled him and bathed him in the sage smoke. Oh, and when I finally put the torch out, I felt like a dork, but I was happy that at least I'd tried.

And as freaky as this sounds, my house has felt 'lighter' ever since. I swear to God, I know how crazy this sounds, but something about it worked. It really worked. Whether it was the power of suggestion, placebo effect, or downright a real spiritual cleansing, something about this house and its memories is better. I have two more torches, and Goddammit, I'm gonna use them!

Well, that's about it for now. I covered just the tip of the iceberg, if that, when it comes to what's been going on here, but maybe soon I'll be able to chip down a little further. For now, I'm just amazed you're still here, and that I am, too;)

Love you all, wish you nothing but good awakenings, great days, and fabulous slumbers. God, that was cheesy... basically, I just mean that I hope you all are doing great!!!:)

Sept. 18, 2007- A couple of lists,

Things I tell myself everyday, just to keep surviving:)

1. Hey, every time I gain a pound, at least my tits get bigger, too.

2. I'm happily positive that today's the day I'm going to get up, come downstairs, and find no puke, cat piss or nuggets in places they shouldn't be.

3. Sometimes peeing myself when I laugh, cough too hard, or strain my body in any way is totally normal for a 38 year old woman.

4. Hey, keep updating that journal. You're not nearly as shallow as Perez Hilton, and your readers are coming back because your rantings really are doing the world good.

5. You're not weird, Paula. You're just special.

A sampling of the average thoughts and such I have on a daily basis:

1. Emeril, the whole you yelling 'Bam!' thing is just nervously annoying.

2. Jesus, is that a pimple on my ass? OMG, another one??????? Fuck you, nature. I guarantee you Paris Hilton doesn't know your wrath.

3. Shit, here comes the mailman again.

4. Maybe lightning will strike, then burn down my house so I can claim the insurance and start over, provided I have enough time to get the pets out first.

5. God, I will worship you with no more question if you will just make my husband leave me alone when I strip and go to take a bath.

6. Are my toenails getting thicker? Ewww, I'm getting old.

7. Would you just shut the fuck up, Bill O'Reilly?

8. No, neighbor, I do not want a beer. I'm out here scowling at you because it's 11 at night on a Tuesday, and the bass from your Olde English pimped out truck has me as close to committing a felony as it was that time I actually did commit one... (just kidding)

9. That is by far the most interesting-looking turd I've ever seen a dog create. Way to go, Fuzzy Wagadoo!!!!!

10. Damn, I'd better log on... and face the consequences.

11. Thank you, powers that be!!!! NO hate mail today!!!

12. 'Hello, telemarketer. What? Uh-huh? Yeah....... uh huh, uh huh... hey, what color underwear are you wearing?'

13. Holy shit, that weird kid who lives across the street gets more retarded every day. Would one of you parents please tell him to stop talking to the masonry wall lining your driveway while rubbing his crotch? And no, I'm not kidding on this one. That kid needs a serious helmet, and possibly some mittens.

14. What in the hell is that smell??????? If I can't identify it, it must really be bad.

15. Friday's not that far away, just keep telling yourself that. Beer will be on hand soon, Paula. This world just can't be cruel enough for it not to.

16. Eric, when you have to fart, why in hell do you have to lift the buttcheek closer to me up to let it out, rather than the cheek that'll send the smell away from me? Don't tell me it's because you're left-handed, 'cause if I hear that again, I promise you I'll be scraping your scrotum zest into my next dish with the rustiest of graters.

17. I would kill in exchange for having the pseudo ghost-hunting folks' emails and the totally useless forwards from others disappear from my mailbox. My spam filter is fabulous, but still, too many black nail-polished thrill seekers and live-to-forward emailers infiltrate my ever-compromised cyber life.

18. Ooooh, Iron Chef is on!

19. This moment would so be beautifully accented by a cup of coffee. Too bad actually drinking it will send me into an adrenalin-filled bout of both freaking out from the rush and saying my last goodbyes because I'm that convinced from the caffeine panic attack I'm about to die.

20. Everyone has these thoughts, right? Yeah, I'm totally normal...;)

Okay, I'm the first one to tell you I'm not. But hey, I at least get by each day because I just have this sneaking suspicion that I'm really not that alone.

Sept. 16, 2007

I attended a local writer's workshop this weekend with a friend, and though I loved meeting the people, I left yet again feeling that these things aren't necessarily what a writer needs to experience when trying to hone their talent. I also left more convinced than ever that too many writers are more worried about feedback and attention than they are about just telling their stories. Two hours of hearing insanely abstract haiku, stuff rife with anapest and dactyl, sonnets and ballads, then an hour of 'the rest' wasn't nearly as frustrating to me as hearing the group comments. When one reviewer was honing in too much on mechanics, another was focusing way too much on the plot specifics, and the whole time, I'm thinking, having just heard them read their pieces, 'What in fucking hell qualifies you to throw out any kind of recommendations to this writer?'. Just bugs me. Sure they have the lingo down, using terms I'd never heard before, like 'enjambed', Utopian novella, and applied Humanism, but when it came to the actual advice they had to give, I'm just not sure it helped anyone in the group do any more but become more threatened by the ever-heavy cloud that is the literary world. Anyway, just had to mention this little experience of mine, and how much I'm just not too eager to suffer it again;)

Big Brother 8- Well, it's Dick and Daniele... and I think my viewing obsession is just about over now, at least my Showtime After Dark enjoyment. Nothing can bum a buzz worse than watching the only two BB8 housemates left for three hours a night as they chit chat sporadically, then stare into space most of the time. I'm still rooting for Dick, despite just reading that some California group for women has been campaigning seriously against him and CBS due to his ill treatment of evicted housemate Jen. If you ask me, too many times, too many people under too many circumstances, insert themselves into too many situations they shouldn't even bother with. BB8 is one of them. Fuck off, do-gooders, and let me enjoy my 'reality' T.V.

I haven't adopted out any of my grandpuppies. And I'm sure this is a shock to everyone, LOL! Honestly, their being here still is a combination of me being too busy, me worrying too much about how their early bout with Parvo might affect their long-term health and how fair that would be to adopt them out, with just flat-out not wanting to give them up. All three are thriving now, doing great, looking great, and are truly happy. And what's really amazing to me is how different this trio looks from the other. Same mom, same dad, yet Annabella looks like a Jack Russell terrier, Mary Agnes is a dead ringer for a greyhound, and Elphine Starkadder is looking more and more like a Dalmation every day. And even though I'm thoroughly enjoying watching them do so well, it's still bittersweet. Each time I look at them, I think of their siblings who succumbed to Parvo, those rich and sweet little personalities and souls, Nigella, Ruphus, and Dorie June. What would those three look like now? How happy would they be? How happy would I be taking them out to walk every day instead of walking their surviving siblings and stopping at their graves in the backyard every morning, saying a blessing for them, apologizing for not being able to do better for them? They're in a better place, but as a result, I'm not. That's the bitter part, though. The part that gets me through is the sweet, seeing three wild and sassy little devil-pups living, breathing, and terrorizing me and this house in the most loving of ways. Maybe they're living for the ones who can't, you know?

No panic attacks lately. And how much you wanna bet that the mere fact that I've mentioned this will automatically bring one on?...;)

Ok, that's all I can muster today. The hubby's had back problems, is sitting on the couch with a heat wrap on the small of his cute little back, and I just feel the need to shut this damned contraption off, shuffle over by his side, sit down, and cuddle with him while we watch the Cowboys and eat Italian sausage and peppers. Doesn't matter who wins, really...

Sept. 12, 2008 Hey, big suprise... more unarranged 'stuff'

Off that proverbial bat, Ariane, sorry I haven't emailed you lately, but I'm still thinking of you, still one of your biggest fans, my Finnish friend;) I've needed to say that for the longest time, so I had to get this typed out first!

Onto other stuff, I'll just do it in list form, whatever comes:

1. So the Democrats have rejected Petraeus' plans in Iraq... shocker? I think not. But still, I reject it, too. I reject all his testimony. The man, I'm sure, has a stellar military career, but in this case, in this fight, I have seen him as nothing more than a Dubya puppet. Besides the fact that I still have never once heard a truly valid explanation as to why we even chose to go into Iraq when we did, I am outright in a stupor over why we're there still now, especially in the huge capacity we are. How many more dead or alive but mangled true Americans are we going to have to see shipped home before this government finally realizes that this war, much less any war, is wrong.

2. Britney at the VMA's... hey, thanks, Brit, for making me feel as awkward and uncomfortable watching your onstage meltdown as much as you did. Whatever the fuck's wrong with you, as nervously fascinating as you are lately, I really hope you figure out a few things and get yourself together. You're rich, beeyatch. The world is at your feet, so stop drop-kicking it. The day I ended up seeing K-fed as the better parent is a day that should've never happened.

3. Notice how Mike Vick's been absent from our T.V. screens lately? Though I know the answer to the mystery, and it's sad, I still have to say 'Why is that?'. Animal causes just tend to get attention only when stars are involved, or ratings are involved. Not like that doesn't apply to any good cause.

4. Microchipped pets are now starting to pop up with cancer, cancer several think is related to the fact that they're micro-chipped. And humans were about to be the next implanted. Micro-chipping your beloved animal who's likely to never be lost?= 40 bucks. Seeking treatment for that same pet who's formed a huge tumor at the chip site?= 200 plus bucks, if you're lucky. Leaving technology alone when it comes to any living being until it's been proven a hell of a lot safer?= priceless.

5. My sister, out of the psych ward for a little while now, has managed to wrangle herself a government-mostly-paid high dollar apartment she just moved to. Government cost is over a thousand dollars per month, her cost? 27 dollars. I shit you not... 27 bucks. It's a two story apartment, tons of room, and in a nice part of town. Though I'm happy for my sister, I still get pissed off at this, simply because I know too many other women with children busting their asses to afford a 500 dollar a month abode (and for that amount in this town, what you get isn't nearly what Donna's getting). Donna doesn't work, gets a fat disability check every month, child support, and food stamps, and still doesn't think she needs to do anything in return. For example, she called me nonstop the last couple of weeks, asking me to order the cheaper online cigarettes for her. I did, they came, and when I told her to come and get them, she still bitched about it, hinting that I needed to bring them to her until I told her that they were here, and if she couldn't find a way to come get them, they'd just stay here. On a small scale, where is the thank you my sister should've provided to any and everyone who's ever helped her live her life with as little stress as possible? And on a much larger scale, where is the HUGE thank you our government should provide to the people who could easily file for any kind of government assistance, yet don't, and work their asses off to achieve the life they have? Why is my sister rewarded for doing nothing when she should be 'helped' with the condition that she help herself? Don't get me wrong; I'm happy she's okay, but I'm also less than thrilled that she never has to work for it.

6. It is SO nice to sometimes see a real miracle happen. In the last year, I can't accurately account how many people have gone missing, their stories related to me on the news, only to be found dead, often horribly dead, all of our hopes and prayers for nothing. Yet in this last month, a senior citizen woman lost in the woods and thought dead was found alive after way too long left in the elements, and a young man missing a week after crashing his car into a ravine managed to climb out and survive. More locally, an older fella in my town was kidnapped at gunpoint in front of his family, whisked away by his kidnappers, and while I instantly thought 'He'll be dead by the time they find him' when I saw the initial coverage on my local news channel, I was glad to see he'd been let go, unharmed, the next day. All three of these types of stories we're used to seeing end with a Medical Examiner/Coroner on scene, yet that didn't happen, and thank God for that. This world needs happy endings so much more often than we see them, so I feel as if we've been given a gift in these survival stories lately. There really is always reason to keep looking, keep hoping until the questions you get are answered.

7. High School Musical? High School Musical 2? Disney, if this is the best you can do lately, then Disney, you officially suck. You used to be so cool, and it just breaks my heart.

8. Mattel execs pledge to increase their safety checks on toys... Hey, assholes, why don't you try this; STOP BUYING FROM CHINA!!!!!! Why does everyone have to make everything so complicated???? Not buying from China equals less lead in everything... is that so hard?

9. Johnny Cash's first wife publishes tell-all book... Hey, the second 'walk-the-line' wife bored the shit out of me. What makes you think your book won't do the same? If June Carter couldn't make the ring of fire burn for me, whether Reese got the Oscar for playing her or not, nothing about the man in black will. Johnny Cash I know has to be more interesting than I've seen so far, but I'm just not sure this new book, choc full of love letters or not, will deliver. On a more positive note, Ginnifer Goodwin's portrayal of the first wife in the movie was worthy of every kudo I can muster. Mark my words; this actress is going places beyond the world of Cash or HBO's polygamy series.

10. Finally, after commenting on all of the above, then reading over it all again before writing number ten, it just makes me ashamed of myself for not having something more substantial to really feel and write about. The above is just a small sampling of North America's collective world, and frankly, so much of it means so little. Grand scheme... where are you?????? Train wrecks and oddities just aren't what I signed on to comment on so frequently, yet here I am, doing so. Then again, I forgive myself, because whether it's celebrity gossip, political bashing, pop culture commentary, or anything else equally devoid of problem-solving, at least I had an opinion;)

Sept. 8, 2007-Purely Big Brother talk

Humor me; I'm feeling shallow today;)

We're down to the final four, Showtime's BB After Dark has gotten unbelievably boring as a result (but only after a hugely entertaining double eviction Thursday), but still I find myself watching.

One, I'm sorry, but I'm glad Jessica and Eric are gone. I am just SO TIRED of seeing them both in the running. Though they both talk in entirely different octaves, come from different backgrounds, and though so many have become endeared to their showmance (reality TV-induced romance), I have never felt either had much in the way of personality, individuality, or any 'ality'. I saw their first 'kiss', and I ended up scowling through the whole thing, feeling the flatness with an awkwardness the two of them should've felt. I don't think there's anything really there, nothing that'll last beyond this show, and if I'm wrong, hold me to this; I will send an Ace of Cakes creation to their wedding;)

Two, after this long of feeling the guilty pleasure of watching this season as I have, I have to add extra guilt by putting my vote behind one particular player, the one player I have to admit I hope will win, though I know that won't happen.

Dick.... Evil Dick Donato.

The streak-haired, black fingernailed man looks as if his entire Middle Aged Crazy is focused around being as much like Tommy Lee as possible. His treatment of people (especially women) he doesn't like involves the kind of verbal abuse that makes most people cringe. He spits constantly, struts around and makes predictions he shouldn't make, plays to the cameras so obliviously, but Goddammit, I just can't help but root for him. Feminist that I am, I hate to say it, but it's true.

Because as much of an asshole as he is, he at least has balls enough to be one. He also has enough love for his whiny and bratty daughter, Daniele, to be an asshole in order to protect her, no matter how much I outright know she'd sell him out in a heartbeat in order to win.

Mainly, though, I root for Dick because he has, by far, been the most interesting personality on that show to watch thus far, Jen being a close second. Only Jen isn't someone I'd root for. Vanna White's nanny just struck me as being more Vulcan than human.

So, the final four... Jesus, this is just too weird.

From a past entry, you already know that I just don't like Jameka. As likeable as so many viewers find her, she's fake. I really just about liken her to a female Dubya running for his first presidency. Zach? Zach I actually wouldn't mind winning... he's been made fun of behind his back for so long, it really doesn't matter to me how annoying he can be; If he won, I'd applaud on behalf of all the nerds out there.

And Daniele? This is a girl who complains constantly (in real life, not just on a rant page, like I do for venting), clearly doesn't give a fuck about anyone, including her father, but herself, who I wish to God I could get alone, tranquilize, then color her hair a more natural color than that rabbit-piss yellow/blonde she has it colored now, and who I know without a doubt, should she win, would give her dad a paltry amount of her winnings, even though I know that if her dad won, he'd probably give her half of his half-million.

So yeah, I'm rooting for Dick. Evil Dick, who's been more than verbally abusive to too many people, has way too many bad habits, and way too much drama. Still, there's just something about him that I root for, whether it be his loyalty to his daughter, his willingness to get in trouble for whatever cause he thinks is valuable, or his outright oddly fascinating train wreck entertainment value. Then again, this is my opinion on one seriously trivial yet addicting reality show. In real life, should I ever meet Dick, I'd probably insult him first before he insulted me, and whether vice-versa happened or not, the two of us would end up throwing drinks on each other, friends for never;)

But that'll never happen, so it changes things, and as a result I honestly have to say that the viewing attraction for me when it comes to BB 8 has been Dick Donato. I'd like to see him win, his daughter get evicted this Thursday, and either Dick or Zach win. Even if he doesn't, I'm sure the guy will find more work than he'd ever found before once this season is over. I'm also sure that he'll give a good chunk of whatever revenue he earns in the future to Daniele.

Sept. 6, 2007-God, I am SO sick of this online version of myself

As I've said a million times, I started this rant page so that I could spew all the negative that is me out here, cyber vomit it, thus purge my real-life system, so to speak. I used to go back and read the things I'd written and learn at least something from my unedited bitch-sessions, but now I'm frankly just bored and annoyed with myself. But, hey, maybe that in itself is a good thing, so let me suck it up and post yet again another session of non-choreographed blubberings, just type the shit out at the shit comes;)

-I have been sick, really sick, the last several days, a simple bladder infection somehow escalating into me having a near delirious 102 temperature for two days straight before I finally broke down and took antibiotics. At this point, I'm not feeilng the awful urge to urinate every few minutes, but when I do pee, my urethra feels like the urine passing through it is filled with microscopic 20 grit sandpaper and brillo pads. But at least I can sleep now, have some energy, and my fever's down. Still, I am sick enough of antibiotics, AZO, and cranberry juice/pills that the second medical science comes up with an artifical urinary tract, I'm considering being first in line to guinea pig it;)

-Feeling well enough to get online and take care of some business, I find myself totally stressed out over online bill paying. If it's not remembering which bill site has which sign-in and password, it's freaking out over how much hard-earned money instantly disappears each month once I successfully log in and pay all this stuff. I haven't written anything new in ages, haven't made a dime as a result, Eric's not making any more, so I need to get off my keister. Like I said, I'm not a writer, this really isn't writer's block, it's just me being lazy when I shouldn't be;) And this brings me to my next point:

-For the couple of you assholes who still are bitter enough to incredulously guffaw, I'll say all that I'm allowed to say when it comes to my 'career' as a writer. One, yes, I am published. Oh Holy Lord, the world is that bad, but yes, I'm published. I have a spare few articles written in the heat of passion about local politics and animal welfare picked up and published, and yes, I was as shocked as you fan-fiction gossiping whorehounds when that happened. Still, get over it, and suck my dick;) Two, yes, I have been paid for other 'stuff', stuff I'm not as proud of. All I will say about that is that a couple of years ago, I met a writer who was successfully selling a series of her erotic fiction, she eventually asked me if I could help her with her series, I thought she was nuts in taking my opinion seriously, but helped her anyway, and lo and behold, turns out I'm not too bad at ghost-writing here and there, so to speak. A few months later, she referred another friend of hers to me, and as a result, I have been rewarded. These ladies are doing fine on their own now, not needing a lick of help from me other than doing a bit of beta-work (yes, Odeders, I am actually capable of professional beta work when I really think about it and put my soul into it). Guffawers that still remain, there ain't nothin' I can add to the above that will ever change your forever-malevolent minds, so in summation, let me just tell you that though I care too much about what the few of you think (I should never have felt the need to write this last paragraph if it didn't bother me), I can't help but do a little inner in-zone dance while asking you what you've had published lately, if ever. Oh hey, my dots bothered you, you say? Oh, sorry, master of elf fiction. But hey, again... I used a hell of a lot of those dots in the last love scene I wrote, and I seem to remember cashing a check over that scene. S, though I'm sure your elves are completely hot when their pointy-eared little selves get it on (btw, based on what I've read so far, I just have to thank you for not making their ejaculate green), and N, or MM, as you so often like to pseudo name yourself, I'm also as sure that your Arab desert men have six packs and blue eyes when they 'take' their desert women, in between calendar boy photo-ops. You get what I'm saying by now, but still, I'd really one day love to know what makes you better, what has ever made you better, than not just me, but any writer. Then again, maybe you couple of high-school-mean-girl critics are right. I'm kinda hoping you are, because if you are, then that means that if I can get published, get paid for the writing you took pleasure in picking on me for, then that means anybody can. And you know what? Anybody can. Even you, provided you get over yourselves.

-On a similar note.... Dawn, I check my site stats every couple of weeks, and you're a regular visitor whose stats just stand out of the pack. I know your IP by now, and it always amazes me that I continually see it here, given all the absolute shit that's passed between us. Don't get me wrong; I'm not calling you out for reading here so often... I thank you for it. It makes me think that there really was a part of you who considered me a real person and a real friend, beyond the world of Ardeth. I have a world of real friends, and though I have been crude and brutally honest with them when they didn't want me to be, I was that way when they needed me to be, and vice versa, thus they've remained my friends. I've been happily gone from Oded world for a long time now, yet you keep coming back. You haven't emailed me, asked me for anything, yet you're still here. I won't add any additional embarrassment here except to say that I am surprised you still read, yet am glad, and that I hope you have surpassed the crap that is fan fiction. I know everything negative that was said about me, everything said by everyone. And I'm over it. I still root for you, as I do for all the fan-fic folks I supported in the past, still support now. You have nothing to fear from me, and if your reading here faithfully is because you're constantly looking for the next attack I may launch upon you, trust me; it ain't going to happen... unless you attack me. I felt betrayed by you once, but overall, I was your fan. And believe it or not, there are other writers from your genre you once feared who I've come to know aren't bad at all. Shared betas made things complicated and nasty when they shouldn't have been. Bitching from the same betas fed a competition that should've never happened. All things said, I met some great writers in my brief fan world, and if they could just get along, then my online world would be perfect right about now. We all have so much in common, but when it comes to posting our stuff on certain websites, it seems other personalites have been our friendship's demise.

Okay, enough said. It's just that in the huge amount of time I think I've wasted in fan-fiction, it still seems to amaze me that so many souls from it have stuck with me in their real worth, imbedding in me not just their talents, but their personalities, and though I have bitched nonstop about the few whose egos have fucked the weave of the fabric up in places, I just hate to not recognize the strength of the overall yardage of the bolt. Crappy comparison, but it's all I can think of at the moment. My bladder's been stinging at me for the last 15 minutes, but I was so into what I was saying here, I couldn't find it in me to make that bathroom trip, so excuse me. I'll say so out loud as I wipe here in a few minutes;)

Sept. 2, 2007- Just a couple of things

-I am still addicted to Big Brother 8, and had the great pleasure of laughing at Amber far more than I did Miss Teen South Carolina this week, believe it or not. Miss Teen's whole 'people don't have maps', 'South Africa', and 'such as the Iraq' blubberings just didn't strike me nearly as funny as three words CBS' BB's Amber uttered in faux prayer to the cameras this week. Knowing she was up for eviction, Amber, as usual, sobbed, dramatically grabbed her necklace, and fell into 'deep' prayer (and wouldn't you know it, out loud... really out loud. CBS, aren't you glad?), and as she went on to ask God for strength to make it through this week, apologized to God for doubting Him, etc., she ends the prayer with the most Amberesque, perfectly retarded prayer ending, which went something like:

'God, I love you. God bless you.'

If you don't get why I'm laughing until I piss my cotton panties, then God forgive you, and while you're praying to Him for such, tell him to bless himself.;)

-The only other part of this entry, today...

I have bitched nonstop about my maternal family, how fucked up they are, how I have sacrificed for them so often with little return, so get ready for a treat... today, I'm going off on the Dad and the stepmom, and as much as I love them, it's long overdue.

They called a few days ago, and I didn't answer the phone. Partially because I had a nasty bladder infection, was miserable and not in the mood to talk to anyone, but also partially because I knew why they were calling....

My cousin Val (actually, he's a step-cousin, my stepmom's nephew), was coming to town, for the umpteenth time, to visit Dad and Judy, and they wanted Eric and I to come out and spend time with them this weekend. Frankly, I didn't want to, didn't feel like explaining it over the phone, so I just didn't answer the phone.

My stepmom... God, there is so much I've loved about her, so much I've been grateful for, but as I get older, sadder, and wiser, i.e.- too unable to deny much of anything anymore- I realize that this woman has been a huge source of my adolescent angst, my residual adult angst, whether she meant to be or not. It wasn't that I was a bad stepchild, or she was the evil stepmom... as I've said before here, I think it was that she loved my father so much, she was willing to 'try' with me as a consequence of keeping him, then 'put up with me' when I didn't do things the way she felt would benefit her most.

My memories of my time spent living with Dad and Judy have some good memories, but most of all, I remember walking on eggshells all the time, wondering when this or that habit of mine, or that sentence I just uttered would be subtly judged by a stepmom I thought was perfect at the time. She could crush my world in one second's worth of words, carefully chosen words meant to let me know I wasn't up to snuff rather than outright abuse, and my Dad would crush it more by not defending me, not stepping in.

Back to Val, though.

In my time spent as a spectator of my Dad and Stepmom's marriage, I was constantly dragged to family gatherings, her family's gatherings, where I was around Val, her blood nephew, and Kerri, her blood niece. Can you tell I hated this? If so, this is why... Judy continually over the years would let me know that she wanted me to be more like those two, more outgoing like Val, more creative like Kerri. And although the names in her sentences were always there, I know the focus on her sentences were always me... why wasn't I more like them?

Jesus, I had used to think I was pretty special. I made great grades, was active in theater, wrote musicals, stories for my Dad that made him crack up, I built doll houses out of old cardboard boxes, roller discoed like nobody, read adult books because tween books were too boring, yet until Judy began to constantly let me know, I didn't realize that my list of achievements fell short somehow.

Thus was my life until I couldn't take it anymore and left all things Dad, the man who loved me but never really stood up for me, and Judy, the woman who loved me as much as she could, but always wished I was better.

Once again, back to Val.

Val's in town, and Judy and Dad have finally decided to call me regularly and ask me to come to see them. Val is the apple of Judy's eye, as is her blood niece Kerri, and sorry, but that need of hers to get me around the two of them just isn't flying with me. I didn't become more like them then, and I sure as hell won't be like them now. There is no need for me to go through what I was forced to go through before, and moreso, being grown throws an extra 'oh hell, no' wrench into the mechanics.

I know some things now, away from Judy, things she doesn't know, and though you'd think I'd bask in that knowledge, I can't. Val, perfect, entrepreneurial Val, is really a con man, a list of fraud and bounced check charges longer than any arm on his record, and Kerri? Kerri's in a bad marriage, with some bad self-image problems, plenty of her own issues. Val's the one that really bothers me, though. I just know he's milking Dad and stepmom for funds every time he goes out of his way to visit them. And I know they're giving those funds, over and over again. Meanwhile, I'm the one Judy wishes was more like Val while Dad fails to tell me otherwise.

Oy vey, huh?

I have been here, the entire time, always me, always impure, always imperfect, but always madly in love with all my parents. I have always overlooked the conditions, forgiven the times in which I felt judged, always sure that things would change, that I would finally be deemed the kind of person worth words other than 'why can't you be more like....?' .

I have failed, I have been failed, and as a result, no, Dad and Judy, I have absofuckinglutely NO desire to head out to Denton this weekend and hang out with used car salesman Val and watch you react far more to him than you ever have to me. It's less than I deserve, and it's more than anyone, especially a daughter, should have to take.

Maybe one day my respect for these two parents, despite their lack for me, will allow me to say the above to their faces, their reactions be damned. In the meantime, life goes on, has, always will, and above all, though I bitchslap the hell out of myself often for being awful in so many ways, I tend to keep breathing, hoping and moving on because I proudly never became a Val or Kerri. I will never be a Val or Kerri, will never be a 'version' of myself.

Long enough, time to stop, barbecue's burning, and Eric doesn't know how to flip burgers without them breaking in two, so I'm gone. Love you all, wish you well, and thanks for reading this far. I've been needing to get this off my huge chest for way too long now;)

Aug. 25, 2007-Left-Overs, served cold

Once again, there's no method to my rant madness, no pre-conceived thought I'm going to focus on and write about, so I'm going to, for the umpteenth time, just start typing, not beta, and just express myself.

-Why do I still call this a daily rant page? When was the last time you guys saw me update this page daily? Even if I still had the time or energy, I just couldn't put you through daily bouts of me and my ego, dysfunction, and weirdness.

-I just saw on VH-1's Classic Rock channel an hour-long countdown of the 'greatest' 80's songs of all time (I caught the top 20). I'll skip the whole disgust thing and just spoil it by telling you that after that hour of my life wasted, VH-1 had the audacity to tell me that Bon Jovi's 'Livin on a prayer' was number one. WTF???? Not like they weren't great in the 80's, but where was 'Purple Rain', 'Thriller', or for that matter, 'Open Arms'? Who votes on this show? Johnny used to work on the dock vs. I never meant to cause you any sorrow....or vs. so now I come to you, with open arms... nothin' to hide, believe what I say...

VH-1, you're just fuckin' wrong on this one.

Hell, I'd put the all time most annoying 80's diddy 'Mickey' by Toni Basil ahead of Jon Bon Jovi.

-My veggie garden is dying, spent after a long summer of providing us with tons of wonderfully delicious fruit, and no matter what I do, it's still dying. Now here's my question... am I wrong for mourning it's impending death? I literally want to cry at seeing my tomato plants withering, my green beans no longer dangling, my peppers producing the last of their fruits. Is it mentally healthy to mourn the passing of a plant you've grown to love almost as fully as you would the death of a pet? No matter what the answer, I'm sad at seeing these little seedlings I tended to just a few months ago live their life span and begin their exit. I am just sooooo too hormonal to ever cut it as a farmer;)

-I am psyched over some friends' newest diary entries, a couple of them actually being the start of new diaries. I literally and honestly am by far more a reader of thoughts than a writer of one, and to finally see new material from the folks I adore... Jesus Christ, that's just good. Girls, you know who you are, and you also know that I am expecting a much quicker follow-up entry than the previous has deprived me of;)

-I think I may be the only person on this planet not totally orgasmic over all things Harry Potter. Maybe I haven't given Rowling enough of my reading, but from what I have read, I just don't get the whole Hogwart's experience. I realize that I must suck because of this, but if you ask me, I have benefited far more from reading A Thousand Splendid Suns than I will ever live a better life after knowing what Azkaban, Slytherin, Quidditch mean. Yes, Rowling has managed to awaken in some readers a certain magic long-forgotten, or whatever the drooling critics say, but for those of us who never really lost the belief in magic, never needed refreshing, Potter fare just doesn't strike the ethereal nerve while other, less profitable, fare does. Sue me, Potter die-hards, and while we're at it, you LOTR mutants can kiss my ass, too. Notice how I used the acronym rather than spelling the whole ring thing out... that's how sad I think the ring thing is;) I'll even take a step further into the 'we hate you' feedback arena by saying that if you've ever had good sex (masturbation to really hot porn not included), paid a bill (consistently), held a conversation with anyone for more than five minutes without using the words 'sword' or 'spell', or lived with someone other than your parents, then you are exempt from this paragraph. I actually know of a couple of writers who've written 'dirty' LOTR fanfiction, where elves, or whatever they're called, get it on.

Inconvenient truth... Al Gore should've covered more in that doc, because I am convinced now that some fanfiction, not to mention the original novels inspiring them, are depleting our ozone;)

-One of these days, I'm going to have to go ahead and break down... visit some sort of sex shop, or at least hit Walgreen's and buy an 'appropriate' lubricant. Trust me, when the moment hits, and you and the man are about to do some serious thrusting, yet can't find a tube of what you're supposed to use for such occasions, Suave hair conditioner doesn't do much for the moment of entry other than to make sure your vaginal walls feel extra smooth and silky. Yeah, I said that, and to those of you who don't like it, just run a comb through my uterus. I guarantee you it won't tangle;)

-Finally, I have neglected way too much the one group of women who have consistently been there for me, for each other, for everything, for too long now. My Catbroads, as time goes on and on, serve more as example of what I should be when it comes to a friend versus what I've been able to return. They are always there, they are always honest, and they are always just soooo worth logging on. Cat talk, life talk, any kind of talk, this group of women I've known for close to a decade now deserve me answering all their emails, yet when I'm swamped and can't, wouldn't you know they still forgive, are still there. I don't write about them enough here. Basically, I just love the shit out of them, and I still think they know that, as cool as they are.

Time to go. Spay and neuter your pets, eat right, vote, go green, follow your heart, rock on, and fuck anyone who makes you feel bad;)

Aug. 21, 2007- I have no idea what I'm going to write

I'm menstruating, I'm tired, I'm achy, my brain feels like it's filled with either Vicodin or Nyquil instead of spinal fluid, so why I'm choosing now to write an entry is a mystery to me.

Let me sit here a minute in my uterine-discomfort glory... see if I can think of something...

Oh, okay, here's one; Jameka from Big Brother 8 pisses me off. Not like everyone from that show annoys me, but Jameka, Amber being a close second, give new meaning to the word 'pseudo'. Don't ask me why I finally got addicted to this reality show in its eighth season, although I suspect its because Showtime airs it uncensored every night, which can usually be your only cable selection when every friggin' expensive movie channel I pay for has absolute crap on it. Anyway, as Evil Dick would say, 'It is what it is', and for some reason, I've become glued to the mostly boring yet oddly fascinating world of these people on the formerly 'old-folk' network's reality show. Jessica's helium voice alone makes me want to shove her face in a cow turd, Zach reminds me too much of my former roommate, Guy, Jen's just not carrying completely human DNA, Eric bores the shit out of me, Evil Dick tries too hard to be confrontational, not to mention tries to make us think he's smarter than he really is, and Danielle has not one ounce of anything about her that I find interesting, other than the fact that I wonder how often she pukes up the paltry amount of food, slop or otherwise, she eats. Despite how these guys produce in me a mix of ugh with morbid fascination, I usually end up just not giving too much of a shit about them. This doesn't disturb me. What does disturb me is how much I cringe when Amber and Jameka are on screen. Amber is pathetically transparent, cries as much as Nicole Ritchie vomits, and if any of you happened to see the footage of her 'praying' with a loud and dramatic voice ( Naw, Amber's not aware of the BB cameras) to God to help her deal with the hell she was going through on Big Brother ( I think it was last week, right after Dick attacked her verbally, calling her a 'tweaker'), then maybe you'll want to walk on her back with sharpened cleats as much as I do;)

But the worst, as much as they all exemplify the shallow, narrow, ego maniacal world that is reality television, is Jameka. Though she's never played the race card in a non-race situation, Miss Jameka is the first in line when it comes to praising, quoting, or hiding behind God whenever anything about her is called into question. Whenever she's been confronted by other house members on BB, it's funny how God comes up and that 'witnessin' starts, despite the fact that anyone who really is as Bible thumping as this young woman says she is would've never agreed to go on any reality show, including Big Brother, in the first place. And aside from all of that, it just grates at me whenever I tune into BB After Dark and see her lying there in her bed, listening to housemates talk trash about other housemates, a saccharine 'Uh-huh, uh-huh' coming from her lips every few seconds, pretending and somehow succeeding in being the show's confidante, when an hour before, the same uh-huhs were coming just as fast for the currently-gossiped-about housemates when they were bitching. She's full of shit, she's a fence-rider, and whether it's strategy or not, I think this is the most artificial member of the group. Amen.

And out of all of this, I suck the most for watching it so often;) I don't know who's going to win, but if it's Jameka, then this T.V. world is just a whole slopping bucket full dumber than I ever imagined they were.

Let's see if I can change to a less-shallow topic, though it'll be hard...

Being different.

It's a blessing, it's a curse, it's necessary.

Most of the time, I'm okay with reactions to my opinions. I'd never write if I weren't. But sometimes, people come at me with all the weapons they have when I choose to be 'different'. And being that I'm straight, white, and a few other things, I can only imagine what other people who've been different in other ways have really gone through. I struggle with things sometimes, write about them here, whine and bitch as if I'm a real victim. Reality and me? Reality has given me some lessons, but it's spared me a whole hell of a lot compared to what others have been through. In the scheme of things, I think that my annoyances with stupid people, unfair situations, and being judged for a few of my thoughts are about as relevant to Life as whether or not Glass Plus or Windex is the more streak-free solvent. I'll never be hung from a tree, beheaded on internet television, blacklisted, or tortured in any way over the trivial thoughts I express.

I have often felt some pain over the things I've written here, washed up yet still felt unclean in the backlash my thoughts have brought me, but overall, I don't think I really know what the word 'hard' means when it comes to expression.

Agghhhh!!!!!!!!! CRAMP!!!!!!!!!!!

Gotta go. And though all I've done here is yet again shallow, I want to leave you, the faithful visitors to this stupid little page, huge thanks for coming back over and over again because you've been smart enough to find deeper. Either that, or you just don't want to be rude;) One way or the other, I love ya!:)

Aug. 13, 2007

Jesus Christ, it's HOT!!!!!!!! Funk-drying-on-your-skin, three-cool-showers-a-day, dunk-me-in-liquid-nitrogen hot, and I hate it. I can't go outside without having a near-death experience, and in this old house, moving around too much inside seems to cause all the hottish ozone to seep inside and make me faint. I hate the fucking heat, and if I could move to Alaska in a snap, then just call me Nanooka.

Our Hyperbaric group is about to have another taping of McQuistion on PBS:) The first taping was a success, and now they want more, so let me just say a big happy 'Hell Yes!'.

Major annoyance I have to vent about here.... high school reunions sometimes should just not happen. One of the people I got back in touch with a few weeks ago I regret ever talking with. First of all, I was dumb enough to ask her to send me something she'd written. Hell, she'd gone on and on about her writers' group, the fact that she'd published a poem, so yes, I was interested in seeing what she wrote. Anyway, she sends me this noirish piece, I'm thinking I can write back and tell her it's wonderful, but as I read it, it's just not very good. Cliché-riddled, stiff, and completely unoriginal, which leaves me in a really bad place when it comes to responding to it. Do I pretend I never got the attachment, not bring it up and pray that she doesn't? Do I tell her how bone-numbing boring it was, but then tell her that my opinion doesn't count for shit? Do I just stop emailing her?

Nope, I write her back and end up feeling like a whore in the process. I point out the 'didn't-suck' stuff as her strength, lie and say I liked it, and basically broke most rules I try to go by when telling a writer what I think. I guess I did so because it was, after all, me who begged her to see something she'd written. No matter what the reason, I'm just not proud of my response to her. To any of you writers here I've given my opinion to, please don't worry that I've done the above to you. When I say I am your fan, love what you do, I have always meant it. I've done a little politicking with a couple of folks in the past, milding my opinions down a bit in order to avoid fracturing a couple of fragile egos, but I have just never stooped to critiquing so untruthfully the absolute crap I read not too long ago.

And here's the clincher... this person, in following emails, got what I'd call 'bitchslap uppity', sending messages so full of condescension (and you all know how much I hate condescension), messages basically telling me that this former school friend is a legend in her own mind, I had to fight myself not to beta her piece honestly and send the absolutely crappy chunk of lukewarm paragraphs back to her in 32 red font. Jesus, if you could just have her forget my email address, I'd become a nun, no matter how much Eric doesn't like it;)

One reason why I don't truly desire or pursue being a writer... there are just too many other writers with massive ego problems out there I'd have to deal with. I'd rather just support the good ones instead of compete with the asses.

Oh, finally heard from my Mom. After talking to her, it's clear to me that she hasn't seen my diary page, so her absence of contact wasn't from being mad, and she didn't ask me for anything, so this had to have been a guilt call;) She caught me up on things, including telling me that my nephew Jordan was sent home because he didn't follow rules, and made Mom and my brothers uncomfortable. Y'all don't know how much I'd hoped I was going to be wrong on this. He is now back with his mother, and I just don't know what to do at this point to help this child. I should; I'm his aunt. It takes a village, they say... but with this particular child, all of us villagers have failed. I pray Jordan survives his elders, surpasses them, and when he does, I will give him all the credit.

Not much of a rant today, so I'm sorry. I've got to finally get around to getting some things ready to put on this site's new pages. I've got a ton of emails from wonderful people who deserve a reply to go through and finally answer (those of you who wrote me ages ago and haven't heard back yet, I read your e's, and I love you for sending them! Am glad as hell to hear from you!), and I have animals and a husband to keep cool:)

August 1, 2007

Not to be bitchy... okay, to be bitchy, I got an email directing me to the photos taken at the 20 year reunion I missed, I cyber-dashed with my several mouse clicks through them all... and I'm kinda glad I didn't go.

One, half of the people in the photos I didn't recognize. I knew the names from the name tags, but didn't really have any significant memories of them. Being there in person and staring dumbfounded at these people, trying to place them, would've been about as much fun as having heart-to-heart girl talk with Janet Reno.

Two, of the other half I did recognize, and this is going to sound horrible, I couldn't get over how old some of them now look. I kept clicking on photos and asking Eric if I really looked their age. I didn't listen to his answers, anyway. He knows by now not to answer in any way that'll get him either kicked out of the bedroom... or in the ass.

Three, everyone looked so.... so... suburban. From the cookie-cutter hairdos to the mall'esque' clothing, I felt like grabbing a crucifix and shoving it towards the screen, sprinkling it with holy water and yelling 'The power of Christ compells you!' until I could successfully close the page. That's not too cool of me, I know, but I was really hoping to see some artists, someone in a photo who didn't smile with veneered glee, raising a glass of house Chablis in a half-sauced toast to the camera lens. Maybe there were a multitude of really engaging people there that I missed out on, but I just have the feeling my presence there would resulted in me fighting either a panic attack or the urge to stab people with toothpicks after hearing for hours about people's kids, their accounting jobs, their pilates classes, their SUV's and newly constructed tri-level homes. I'm judgmental, and probably wrong, but still... I've just always looked at suburban life as being a kind of hell I'd never let myself fall into, associating it with the kind of 'enjoyment' I'd get from having to watch a 'Friends' or 'Party of Five' marathon.

Anyway, though I couldn't go, at least I don't regret it as much now. Oh, what I do regret is that Karen H.V. was there, and I would've enjoyed meeting her again. I wouldn't have been mean straight away, would've given her opportunity to show me she'd changed, but if she didn't give me the opportunity, I can't say I'd be mature enough not to subtly and exquisitely unleash my worst on her;)

On a more positive note, it was great to see some of the folks I remember fondly and see that they look great, despite the suburban makeover;) They were good people then; I'm sure they're great now:) Oh, and Brian Floca, if still a geek in spirit, ain't one in appearance anymore!

Back to being bitter for one more sec before getting off of the whole reunion rant...

I'm offended that nobody's done any kind of memorial for any passed alumni, particularly Kati James. She was judged unfairly quite a bit in our high school days, I took a lot of flack for having her as a friend from some of these people, and seeing some of those people in these reunion pics now, it dawns on me what huge hypocrites they were, judging Kati for so many stupid things when they were out getting trashed every weekend, having massive slut sex with multiple partners throughout the four years at Temple High, caring more about popularity than anything that really counted. Kati needs a memorial, and I'm going to campaign that she get it.

Ok, that's about it for reunion speak.

I missed both events I was supposed to attend this weekend. Friday, T.C. Wagadoo stopped eating, got lethargic, feverish, and though I should've gone to the vet by Saturday morning, I still stayed here, nursing her at home, giving her amoxicillin, fluids, and supplements. Sunday morning, I woke up and checked her, found her worse, her gums now terribly pale, and wouldn't you know it... when I realize I need to get to the vet and can't do this at home, Eric's gone to work, the first early Sunday run he's had in ages. I can't get a cab to come to the house to take me and a sick dog to the vet, so I spend yet another day freaking out over a sick dog whose symptoms I can't identify, sure that there's some genetic thing causing the Wagadoo clan to die either young or suddenly, sometimes both (Wolf and Frankie, T.C.'s family, who I've written about before in previous entries).

Long story short, T.C. scared the hell out of me this entire weekend, then decided to perk up, start healing, pink up, and get hyper again just minutes before Eric was due home, and I would finally be able to drive her to the vet E.R. So, we put off an emergency vet visit, but little miss Wagadoo and me are going Thursday to do a complete workup, see what the problem was, and make sure