Not Dooced...

My boss came in today and told me to cut out the IM and "diary thing." It was disheartening but I wasn't "dooced." *Sigh* Don't be upset with my boss, I'll be the first to admit, as I already have, that my work has not been up to par recently. It is still my job. They still pay me. I must acquiesce, for now. Before that, I was looking at the Millennium Tarot set featured in the post below and clicked on "free reading." It randomly selected cards and then you could click on them to see the meanings. Guess, what I got in my "present" position? Just guess. Awwwwww, come on, guess... All right, it was the farkin' Tower card again. Now, I clicked on the "free reading" for fun but when I saw The Tower I just said, "Okay, I get the message." Interestingly enough, the "mundane meaning" was along the lines of "a new and exciting journey" or something like that but also listed the standard "higher meaning" and the "reversed meaning." So, okay, upheaval, intense somethingaruther, now you're starting to scare me. Naw, that's actually horseshit, I'm not. Its all about perception. Okay, so life might serve me a basket of lemons, I'll make lemonade. Brave sounding aren't I? Really, I don't see it so much as a warning as opposed to... a hey, hold my beer and watch this! Like, yo! You are not going to believe this shit! Pay attention this is gonna rock. your. world!! Aren't you guys excited??? Upheaval awaits! Change is afoot! My new and exciting path lays before me! You know the shit of it? Its never really that exciting. I mean, you expect, literally, like it is on the card, lightening is striking, and the flames are burnin', people are bailin' out... but in reality, its much more in the moment and hopefully there's no flames, unless its some dude's clothes. Okay, enough of that. Since I love you peeps and I'm exhausted and still have to pack and all that jazz, I thought I would post the first two chapters of my erotica romance novella over at my NaNoWriMo site linked on the right. Its become a catch-all for meatloaf and tarot cards, not to mention the beginning chapters of MikeyJames and the NannerPeach. I really love that story, I'm going to work on it... not right now... later. Peeps, I'm out. Have a wonderful weekend.

Dimension - Part 2

Death. It has preoccupied my mind lately and I have wondered why. Because I'm boarding a jet plane on Friday? I've wondered and wondered and wondered. I even gave instructions to a very trusted friend and blogger, and now two, on what to do should I not make it to my destination. That's scary isn't it? What's scarier is knowing I will indeed look death in the face. As I have looked it in the face numerous times this year. I'm talking about a tarot sort of death. The Death card. Image by Dorothy Krause Death is the 13th card of the Major Arcana and corresponds to the astrological sign of Scorpio. Small wonder. The Death card is sometimes called Transformation as well. It is the card of rebirth. When I see the Death card in a reading, I am well aware that change is afoot. Part of me, or the person I'm reading, will die. They will shed some part of their skin and be reborn. I can honestly say, were I to pick one card to represent my year, from May 27, 2004, until today, and up until May 27, 2005, the Death card has been MY card. I do feel reborn. As though I creep closer and closer to the person I truly want to be. However, its this card, The Tower, which causes the confusion and trepidation. Image by Dorothy Krause Its number 16 and is ruled by the planet Mars, the ruling planet also of Scorpio. I dread this card. The Tower means upheaval, re-evaluation, necessary change yet that change is dramatic and sudden. But... what to think when it appears in a reading in a very positive position. The position of "what is going for you." Not that the Tower can't be a positive card, it can be. It can show us that this shocking moment can and will create new opportunities and make us stronger and wiser. Change is essential or we stagnate. I talked to Celti about the Tower being in this strange position. Most of the time its in either the "past," "near future," or "distant future" positions, not a position in which the connotation is so positive. Ugh, so confusing! I've pondered the meaning over and over, as I have not pondered a meaning before. If I have pondered in the past, it is because I was too stubborn to accept the interpretation. Especially when the cards have spelled out how my own desires have clouded my judgment and warned me that it would end in ruin, destruction, and devastation. It has happened every time. No matter how much I imposed my will for it not to. Does the card mean, in the position of what I have going for me, that I simply weather the upheavals of life well? Is this tenacity being pointed out to me to show that change is good, even dramatic change? Is it to remind me that even as I approach one thing in life that means so much to my heart, that I am not finished? That it is not time to become complacent and change must continue to endure? Or... is it to tell me that I am a catalyst for change to others? That I should not underestimate or devalue my impact on those around me? Or is it? All the above? I am certain of one thing. I will find out and when I do, I will die and be reborn. Yet, I am also cognizant of what Phoebe wrote today (how thankful I am to the timeliness of this), that our "perceptions do not define Truth" and no matter how certain we are, certainty is subject to forces much bigger than certainty itself. Just another reminder that change continues, whether we allow it to swirl around us or sweep us up and away. Whether we instigate it or resist it. Whether it is welcome or dreaded. Change is upon us.

Dimension

Have you ever been going along and stop and wonder if you're where you should be? Do you find yourself wondering why traffic seems lighter? Have you stopped and looked around wondering where everyone has gone? Why is everyone moving so slow when my mind moves so fast? I did this today on my way home from work. The streets just didn't seem to have as many people as before and the traffic back up on the Interstate doesn't seem to be as bad and hasn't been for a couple of weeks now. Maybe its been months. My job doesn't suck. I don't suck at my job. We've just become incompatible. I sit and stare at the work knowing what I must do. Knowing I'm fully capable of knocking those two three-inch folders of medical records out but I find myself not giving two shits about the case. I feel sympathy for my client but I already know about toxic mold. I know how it comes to be and how hard it is to eradicate and you’re just better off building a new house and heaven forbid it should get in the duct work. I know I’m doing a shitty job. My boss isn’t leaning on me too hard but he’s noticing I’m not turning over my work like I used to. And the shittiest thing is ... I rarely, if ever, work to my potential. I don’t have to. They’re happy with 75%. To them it seems to be a 100. I seek ways to stimulate myself, none of which has anything to do with work. I can do it. But I don’t want to. One of the other paralegals, Dee, drug in this morning late and just looked at me with disgust in her brown eyes. I asked her what was wrong and she said, "I just didn’t want to be here today." The secretary said the same thing. A malaise has descended on us. Or perhaps they have caught it from me. Dee has been a paralegal for over 20 years. She told me the other day she was just sick of it. I failed to ask what she would do if she didn’t have to worry about supporting her husband. That may be out of line on my part. Although, that empathic part of me says she bargained for something else other than she received and she’s too tired to buck it. All of my vibrations have been centered on one thing and it seems as though my spirits are sitting back in breathless anticipation ready to pounce when the time is right to advance their agendas. They don’t always agree. Nothing like a spirit fight to get the blood pumping. I hate having to referee the voices in my head. Perhaps I shouldn’t say they’re sitting back... its more like they’re holding back, circling like a pack of jackals, waiting. I mean that in the most positive way possible. One part of me says I need to stick to what I know and I need to make money if I’m going to move. Yeah, this is true. The other part says I need to stop blogging so much, stop having the comfort of writing a stream of conscious missive instead of something I have to think about and develop. Not that telling a story and writing like this isn’t good, it is. But it has its pitfalls as well. I found my erotica novella in hard copy and set about reading it and naturally, editing. It feels good. It feels good to look at this thick pile of papers and know that I wrote all of those words. I wrote them and they invoke passion and sadness and joy and excitement. And so many other things. That is so powerful. I just can’t waste that gift. (To be continued...)

Bet You're Wondering...

What I'm gonna blog about... well, I dunno. Let's just go along and see what happens. See, its not that I don't have ideas its, well, there's just too many. Or they're just short. Or they sound good in my head but don't transfer to paper well. So, maybe I'll just talk out of my head. My topic right now is 'Ted.' Ted came up in conversation last night and I just thought of him again. There are some famous Teds. Ted Bundy, Ted Koppel, Ted(dy) Roosevelt, Ted Kennedy, Sr./Jr., Ted(dy) Pendergrass, Ted... Ted... ummm... Ted-d-d-d-d *pbbfffbbbtt* Okay, enough Teds. Ted and I met by accident. He thought I was someone else, and I thought he was someone else. We were at the big band festival in a town nearby but he lived quite a distance away where my parents live now! We exchanged addresses and became pen pals. I was very, very sweet on Ted. He was my first love. No, he didn't love me back. He joined the service, met some other chick, and buh-bye Nanna. We had a terrible falling out over that (he called and said, "Hey, I'm getting married." Ever feel your heart drop to your feet? I didn't take it well and I think my next letter was full of pain and anger and he wrote back that I was inconsiderate and immature) and eventually I threw all of his letters away. You know, for some reason, I would really like to read those now. It would be like a time capsule in a way. I remember we used to find new ways to say good-bye in foreign languages at the end of our letters. But there is something else I remember about Ted. He was a FUCKING TERRIBLE KISSER!!! Oh my God!! HORRIBLE!! Let me explain... he had very thin lips, which is fine, BUT, he didn't use them, he used his entire mouth. Have you guys seen the commerical where the cartoon dude is brushing his teeth and he opens his mouth to get the back teeth and its like his face just flattens out and its nothing but teeth? That always reminded me of Ted. He was like a fucking python, unhinged jaw, dark beady eyes... YIKES!! He would use his teeth to scrape from under your nose and part of your chin up to your mouth with plenty of tongue, but it never went IN your mouth... it just kinda slimed around on the outside. Damn, I had some serious chapping problems. Its like, you get a tube of Chapstick © and use it on your whole face, right out of "House of Wax" with Vincent Price. (Killer flick - Muwhahahahahaahaa) Lemme tell 'bout the Meatloaf Man. My girlfriends, Beki, Kelli, and myself, were out running around one night and stopped off at another friend's house, where I promptly fell alseep. Kelli woke me up and told me it was late we needed to get back to her house where we were all spending the night. It was probably about 2:30-3:00 a.m. Now, Kelli was older than us but lived with her dad and stepmom after her divorce and she had two kids to raise. Her step-brother and step-sister lived there as well so we didn't want to disturb anyone coming in. Kelli lived in the ritzy hill section above the city where there is never any parking. I found a spot about four cars down from her place and as we got out of the car we saw a figure standing under the streetlight. He raised his hands like a grizzly bear and came towards us mumbling about something. Beki told me later what she heard, but I didn't really hear shit. I had it in my mind that we three could take him. Problem is, the girls had a different idea. Flee! When Beki grabbed my hand the phenomena of what I called "transference" occurred. Before she touched me I was perfectly calm and ready to take this son of a bitch on. The moment her hand touched my arm though, she transferred all of her fear through it and into me. I froze. The next thing I remember Kelli and Beki are dragging me behind them down the sharply inclined driveway with Meatloaf Man in hot pursuit. The space between the car and the carport was barely big enough for a normal sized person to walk and they bounced me between the two like a pinball. As luck would have it, the front door was unlocked and we got inside and shut the door in Meatloaf Man's face. He started pounding on the door, cussing, telling us to let him in. The most incredible thing is... we had not murmured a sound up to this point because we didn't want to wake up Kelli's dad and get in trouble! So, we got Meatloaf Man at the door. It was one of those with the three diagonal windows. Kelli is on the phone, or rather she picked the phone up and asked, "What's the num-ber? What's the num-ber?" I stage whispered, "9-1-1! 9-1-1!" Beki is holding her shaking hands out in front of her almost hyperventilating. As soon as she had let me go, I was back to, "We can take him!!" I grabbed the nearest weapon, a 14 " cast iron skillet, and told Beki to "open the door." She just stood there shaking. "Beki, open the door, open the door, open the door." I had the skillet drawn back like a Louisville Slugger and all I needed was for her to open the door and let him in so I could nail him. Instead the door to the basement opened and scared the shit out of all of us. It was Kelli's dad and he had a shotgun. He walked over to the door and parted the curtains with the barrel. Meatloaf Man began apologizing and ran away. There were 50 cops on the hill within three minutes yet they couldn't find this dude, dressed in 'grunge,' who looked like a very dirty, nappy haired version of Meatloaf. Um, excuse me... wrong Meat Loaf! Can I get some help here?? Geeez Louise, gotta do everything myself. Here he is. Hey, he looks good here. Anyway, seems that Meatloaf Man and one of his buddies had walked into the house and were eating my friend's fried chicken!!! This was about 30 minutes after we left so Kelli's dad was already on the look out when he heard us in the kitchen. When the cops asked us for a description the three of us said, "He looks like Meat Loaf!" Then we continued with the, "nappy hair, nasty, foul, dirty" description. Not long afterwards, I read an article in a local gossip rag where a guy had pulled a knife in a club. He was described as, "a very nappy haired dude who looked like Meat Loaf." Indeed, our Meatloaf Man.

Cuz Nanner Luvs U!

I've been a paralegal for 8 long years. In that time, I've dealt with quite a number of death cases. Whether they be misdiagnosed or undiagnosed cancers, slip and falls of delirious elderly people who have been given the wrong dosage of medication (or just the wrong medication for that matter) resulting in broken hips, accidental overdoses, and, of course, car accidents. Then there are the ones who haven't died. The ones with life-threatening lupus, toxic shock syndrome, broken bodies put back together by wires and plates and screws. The severely mentally incapacitated young man who was allowed to swallow a glove (yeah, a glove, a yellow plastic Playtex© glove). The list goes on. Because of this experience, I have researched different types of diseases and their symptoms, read, quite possibly, over 50,000 pages of medical records, medical journals, and expert reports, that I should at least qualify to be a physician's assistant by now. I have researched front impacts, side impacts, air-bag deployment, seat belt failure, and blood alcohol extrapolation (understanding how and at what rate alcohol leaves the blood stream). I have other bits and pieces of information stuck in my head from other random cases and things I've picked up along the way. That's what I would like to share with you today. These bits and pieces, some of which may appear to be common sense, others which are not, starting with: HIGHWAY SAFETY: * Seatbelts do save lives. Only a small percentage of deaths are caused by wearing a seatbelt. I've never had a client die from wearing one, but I've seen them die from not wearing one. * Wear your seatbelt correctly. The lap portion should be as low around the hips as possible, the torso belt should rest snugly against the chest and shoulder. If you're taller, shorter, skinnier, fatter than a test dummy, they make all sorts of contraptions so it does fit. If the lap belt is across your stomach it can cause injury during an impact. Do not place the torso belt under your arm or behind your back. If its under your shoulder it can cause severe impact injuries to the rib cage resulting in internal injuries and one or more punctured lungs. (I've seen it happen.) It's also useless at preventing the head from hitting the air-bag, steering wheel, or dashboard. You will be ugly for a long time, dead, or a vegetable. * 18 wheelers will win. Learn where their blind spots are. If you can't see them, they can't see you. Speed up, slow down, do whatever is necessary, but do NOT travel in their blind spot. If they want your spot on the road, give it to them. I know, they can be really rude, but sometimes, they just want over so as not to interfere with the flow of traffic. If they hit you, you will have a very, very bad day. They will win. Let me say that ONE MORE TIME... THEY. WILL. WIN. * Watch tractor-trailers especially in tricky curves. Their loads can shift causing them to tip. Again, you will not win. Back off and give these big trucks some space. If one of them squashes you, you won't survive to make it where you're going anyway. * If you're in a situation where one of these big guys is across the road in front of you, or any other big truck which sits off the ground... pay attention children... steer for the tires!! STEER. FOR. THE. TIRES. If you don't, your vehicle will be carried underneath the frame rendering practically every single safety feature on your vehicle useless. If you hit the tires chances are better that your crumple zones will crumple, your air-bag will deploy, and you'll survive. I learned that from a volunteer fireman who was involved in this type of accident. He survived, barely. A young woman in the same situation was carried under the truck and was killed. * Along those same lines, when you brake sharply the front end of your car goes down. If you hit anything taller than the front end of your car, the air-bag sensors will not go off! This happens especially with car/truck head on collisions. When the front end of the car goes down, the truck can override the hood area. This is bad. What to do? I don't have a good answer for this. It's the same reason good people instead of drunks end up dead or with broken bones. We're coherent and brace ourselves. The drunks don't. My best advice... be a sober drunk. * Sit as far away from the steering wheel as possible. Two reasons: 1.) Air-bag. Most air-bags are deployed by "rapidly oxidizing solid rocket fuel" in 1/30th of a second. You don't want to be sitting too close to this phenomena. 2.) The closer you sit to the steering wheel/dashboard increases your chance of impact injuries, especially that nasty "blunt force chest trauma." Regardless, I'm sorry to report, there are some impacts which will cause death regardless. Remember, your body, internal organs, and brain are still traveling at whatever speed the car was traveling and the rapid deceleration will cause all of your organs to be crushed against your skeletal system. I know... ugly thought. Slow the fuck down. * Side impacts are more likely to cause severe brain damage, even at low speeds. An extra second at a stop light can save your brain. There is an intersection near my home where people continue to make a left turn across a busy two lane highway without being able to see oncoming traffic for a variety of reasons. The speed limit there is 50 mph. Typical speed is 60 mph. Imagine... again, ugly thought. * Motorcycles can stop A LOT FASTER than a car. If ya wanna tailgate... tailgate a big rig, not a motorcycle. * Do not attempt to jump from a moving vehicle at any time. This is only for stunt people in movies. If you still insist upon doing so, do so on the open road and not in the woods where you can then become trapped between said moving vehicle and a tree. Yes, I've seen it. * Don't drink and drive. I guarantee your blood alcohol level is higher than you think it is. MEDICAL TREATMENT: * Always have an advocate to be a royal pain in the ass for you. Make this someone who is not afraid to confront shitty nursing care with an "in your face" style. I'm sorry Jamie. The nurses around here really, really suck! * If both of your parents die from colon cancer in their late 50's/early 60's and it's the kind that is in the UPPER part of the colon, which causes practically NO SYMPTOMS until its too late... have a colonoscopy immediately!! Yes, one of our clients had both of his parents die within two years of each other from the same type of colon cancer and NEVER HAD A COLONOSCOPY!!! Until... it was too late. Research shows this type of cancer begins with polyps in the patient's 20's. EDUCATE YOURSELF!!! * Auto-immune disorders (lupus, hypothyroidism, diabetes, rheumatoid arthritis) in your family history cause other auto-immune disorders. Example: My grandfather had lupus. My mom and aunts have hypothyroidism, diabetes, and rheumatoid arthritis. Their children do too. * Yearly check-ups, period. Monthly breasts exams, period. Monthly scrotal exams, period. Yeah guys, I'm talking to you. Come on! Feel yourself up, I know you want to!! Here's how I see it. It may be embarrassing and uncomfortable for some doctor to stick his finger up your rectum, it may be embarrassing and uncomfortable to have a cold, slimy "metal snatch spreader" (thanks Brighton for those LOVELY words) shoved up your twat, and as you get older it only gets worse, but how embarrassing and uncomfortable is it to have your testicles removed? Or your uterus? Or any other body part? Cancer happens. We can do some things to prevent it, but a lot of the time, we just need to catch it! Case in point: A friend of my family thought since she wasn't having any more children that she didn't really need to have that yearly pap smear. She thought that for seven years until the back pain she was experiencing became so intense she finally had to go to the doctor. She had spinal cancer which had spread from her uterus. Her goal was to live long enough to see both of her daughters graduate from high school. She only made it for one. Case in point: Lex's father had a sore come out on his shoulder that wouldn't heal. He kept thinking it would get better. By the time he did go to the doctor he had advanced malignant melanoma which had already metasticized. I believe he died within a year, maybe two. Lex now wears long sleeves year round and basically lives like a bat because he is terrified of it. However, I also aware there are peeps like a man from my community who went to give blood, they found leukemia in his screening, and he was dead within six months. Or my Grandpa, who hated doctors, never had PSA screening, or a colonoscopy or any other type of health screening and still lived to be a healthy, ornery, 85 years old. But hey, let's catch what we can. * Know your body. Whip out that mirror and take a gander at your nether regions and your back. If you get the feeling something is not right, how are you supposed to know what looks 'normal' if you don't see it when its normal?? Guys, I'm talking to you too. * If you have the "feeling" something is "not right," trust yourself. Trust yourself and advocate for yourself. PERSONAL SAFETY: Cosmopolitan magazine has an article this month about rape. We all know to watch ourselves on the streets, parking garages, lock our car doors, etc. They point out how unsafe we are at home. I can't tell you how many times I get out of my car, walk to my front door, less than five yards away, and never look around me. Even at night. Why? Because, I'M FIVE YARDS FROM MY FRONT DOOR!!! I have neighbors on either side of within five yards. I'm totally safe... right? What do you think? I didn't get to read the entire article but the tagline was enough for me. ***** That's all for today. I hope you guys and gals have a safe weekend... and don't forget to feel yourself up!! (For some reason "preview" and "spell check" are not coming up... enjoy my mistakes.)

Some Days...

you just can't win.... Medical Provider: Hello. Thanks for calling BADHEALTHCARE. All representatives are busy. Your approximate wait time is ... one minute. (Jeopardy music plays) Bored Voice: Hello, thank you for calling BADHEALTHCARE, this is Bored Voice, how may I help you? Nanna: I needed to check the balance of an account. BV: Are you the patient? Nanna: No, its for a client. BV: What's the account #? Nanna: 123-456-789 BV: The name on the account? Nanna: John Doe BV: Your name? Nanna: Inanna Moon BV: Your phone number? Nanna: (123) 456-7890 BV: Are you with an insurance company? Nanna: No, an attorney's office. BV: Oh, I don't handle attorney accounts. You'll need Bored Voice Department #2. I'll transfer you. Nanna: Thanks. (Phone ringing) BV2 Dept.: Hello, you have reached BADHEALTHCARE DEPT. #2. All representatives are busy at this time. The approximate wait is ... three minutes. (Musak plays - four minutes) Bored Voice 2: Hello, this is Bored Voice 2, how may I help you? Nanna: I needed to check the balance of an account. BV2: Are you the patient? Nanna: No, its for a client. BV2: What's the account #? Nanna: 123-456-789 BV2: The name on the account? Nanna: John Doe BV2: Your name? Nanna: Inanna Moon BV2: Your phone number? Nanna: (123) 456-7890 BV2: The name of your firm? Nanna: Best Attorneys in the World BV2: And you represent Mr. Doe? Nanna: Yes. BV2: I need you to verify Mr. Doe's address. Nanna: 123 Curvy Mountain, Road, WV, 25000. BV2: And what is Mr. Doe's current phone number? Nanna: (123) 987-6543. BV2: What is Mr. Doe's birthdate. Nanna: (What the fuck?? Is this a loan application?) 10/10/10 BV2: And what are the last four digits of Mr. Doe's Social Security Number? Nanna: (SIGH) 9630 BV2: Date of service: Nanna: 06/06/04 (click, click, sound of typing... paper's shuffling... typing...) BV2: I'm sorry that account has been referred to LMNO for collections. Nanna: I see. Can you verify the amount of the bill though? BV2: (pause) Its been referred for collections. Nanna: I understand its been referred for collections, but can you verify the amount of the bill from your records? BV2: You'll need to call LMNO Collections. Their number is (800) 678-4321. Thank you for calling BADHEALTHCARE. (Disconnects call) Nanna: (fuming - dials number) Bored Voice 3: You have reached BADHEALTHCARECOLLECTIONS. All representatives are busy. Your approximate wait time is ... six minutes. Nanna: GAH! (leans back in chair to take short nap) (Repeat convo with BV2 - until...) BV3: And you'll be issuing payment of $300.00 on this account? Nanna: Yes. BV3: And when will that be? Nanna: Within seven days. BV3: Why so long? Nanna: Do you want your money? BV3: Well... Nanna: Then you'll wait another seven days. BV3: Well, you'll need to make the check out to BADHEALTHCARE but send it to BADHEALTHCARECOLLECTIONS at 666 Satan's Spawn Ct., Kill Devil Hills, NC... Nanna: I'll do that. (Nanna takes settlement sheet to Captain) Captain: (Points to BADHEALTHCARE amount) Does that account have a guarantee from us? Nanna: No, but its still outstanding. Captain: He doesn't want it paid. Nanna: I thought he said he wanted his bills paid off. Captain: He said he wanted his guaranteed accounts paid. Nanna: Well, moth-er fuck! (grumbles about wasting time on cheap clients) Captain: What we have here - is a failure t'communicate!

*Sigh*

You guys remember this - If you've just joined the program, those are french-beaded flowers, just like the sunflower in the previous post. Beaded flowers, unlike the necklaces I made for Zelda and AJ's daughter, Amy, and unlike the projects I'm currently working on which involve a lot of beads and a lot of thread, beaded flowers are made from beads and wire. The beads are strung on the wire and then they are twisted and curled into the shapes of the parts of a flower, then assembled with more twisting and floral tape to create what you see in that picture. It is labor intensive. I made it for these peeps. Actually its for my host father and mother, Horst and Erika, top row from left to right. Beside of my Mama is my brother-in-law Frank, my brother Michael, and my brother-in-law Donnie. (I just visited him and my sister Claudia, in purple sweater, and my nephews, Andrew (with glasses) and Justin, while I was in TX.) To the left in the green is my sister Marion, in the middle, poking her head between her great-grandsons is Oma Benzinger. I blogged about her here. Oh yeah, this is my German/American family, the one's I stayed with during my year abroad. Claudia and Donnie met while I was there and married in 1991. Anyway, back to my french-beaded flowers. Labor intensive bastards. That's a really crappy distorted digital picture but since I forgot the bouquet at my real Mom's at Christmas and she told me she would send it out and then she didn't and now... ahhh... this bouquet is no where to be found. It is lost. She says she must have given it back to me. I have no idea. I just know... its not here!! And my house is... A DISASTER AREA!! *help* As for Jen's sunflower, I have completed the center portion. I think it looks awesome but that's just me. I'm biased. Then imagine my dismay when I realized I had no fucking yellow beads. The ones in the rose bouquet would be the perfect shade of yellow too. The only yellows I have are a mustard yellow, as seen here, in the bracelet I made for CooterAng. The browns you see in this photo are also the browns I used in Jen's brooch. I had already used the mustard yellow in the center of the sunflower. I also have a very light yellow bead but I need a vibrant, bright yellow bead. I know, "Hey Nanner, just run out to Wal-Mart and get a couple packages of yellow beads." Bite. Your. Tongue. It may not be apparent from the photographs, but the beads used in the roses are a size 10, whereas the mustard yellow beads used in Cooter's bracelet are an 11 and the two shades of brown are 12's or 13's. That's freakin' tiny... and they make them even smaller. Now, I just can't run out and use a big ass size 10 with these teensy tiny delicate 12/13s. Someone else might not know the difference, I could yap about "creative license," but the reality is... I'm anal. So, its back to the bead store at noon or there abouts to see if the new beading store has any opaque yellow beads, preferably #721. Oh, yeah, and remember from yesterday about how I worked on this piece and then it ended up messed up and how I had to trash it? Well, I remade it yesterday. The first one was too big, this one was too small... but to hell with it. I decided I would try and loosen a base thread (bad, bad) but it worked so... nah. I also noticed this morning that it looks sort of like... a vagina. Maybe that's just because I've got a doctor's appointment... Speaking of annual check ups... I've found a ribbon pattern which can be used for all of the ribbon campaigns (pink, yellow, red/white/blue etc.) so I thought I would give that a try. I gotta go. Yearly duty calls. Please, squirm uncomfortably, I will be.

Its All In The Numbers... And Other Sundries

Gallon of high test gasoline: $2.49 Gallon of milk: $3.23 Gallon of Go-Mart coffee (based on price per 16 oz. cup): $6.40 Gallon of bottled water (based on price of 16 oz. bottle): $10.32 Gallon of Starbucks coffee (based on price per 16 oz. cup): $26.00 I'll have a cup of high test - straight up. ***** Whoa, newsflash on the beading information highway! I was working on a bracelet last night and screwed up, meaning I had to trash over three hours worth of work. No, there was no way to save it, I tried. The good news is... as I sat looking at my disaster, it tickled that little part of my brain still functioning and realized I had stumbled upon the answer to another dilemma. That dilemma was how in the hell to make a brooch for Trashman's wife and it not weigh a thousand pounds and be easily bent. Remember what I'm making? Except brooch size. Wearing a brooch means it has to be pretty durable to hugging and brushing up against things. I'm not so sure the french beading (that's working with beads and wire) was exactly the best idea. But HA! Due to my other fuck up, I have found a way. I may incorporate both wire and thread but I'm really excited and already have part of the center finished. So, all other beading work has halted until I get this done. Should be in TX well before Mother's Day. ***** Nate was supposed to have baseball pictures yesterday and I lost my keys. Now, I could have walked him to the baseball field but ... his uniform was LOCKED IN THE CAR!!! Must have been a reason we weren't supposed to be there because I found them a half of an hour after we were supposed to be there. Still pissed me off at the time. Of course the spot I found them was somewhere I had looked five times before, just not with the right roll of the eyes, position of my mouth, and depth of my scowl. Oh yeah, and the moon wasn't full and in is now in Aries instead of Taurus. Pffft! ***** My house is still a disaster area. Sigh. I'm not budgeting my time very well. I need to write up a schedule I guess, one that includes housework. Cybele will tell you and I'll tell you, the Flylady is the shizzet!! I love her and I want to be like her. One day... I can dream.

This and That

Troy Went to see Troy this weekend. We met in Lexington, Virginia, burial place of General Thomas Jonathan "Stonewall" Jackson. Did you know he was mortally wounded by his own men and had to have his left arm amputated? Its buried behind a 7-11 somewhere. He's buried in the... get this... Stonewall Jackson Cemetary. How original is that?? Beautiful, quaint, friendly southern town. We spent the day shopping and eating. Originally I wanted to go to this particular hobby and craft store but we couldn't find it and ended up in a variety of other establishments, including a store called, "Celtic Tides," where we purchased a celtic cross, necklace, and a lapel pin with my family surname on it with a brief explanation as to origin and meaning - no small wonder - my surname means, "defiance." (Celti, you would have been in 7th Heaven!!) Troy also found some old vinyl records at an antique store. At another store, where we purchased a Traveller's Writing Chest (guess who that was for?), the lady began talking to us and Troy told her he was on his way to Afghanistan shortly, she looked at him and said, in the most sincere voice, "May you be safe, and thank you for your service." I could tell he was touched. After we left I passed along all of your well-wishes and he smiled and thanked me... and now I thank you. Oh, and that original craft/hobby store? We found it. The bottom floor is 70% BEADS!! BEADS!! I also found some Das air hardening clay and a new bead book. I hope to go back there. In the meantime, I'll be using the beads for a multitude of projects. I'm still working on the one choker, a bracelet, and amulet bag. I'm selling all of these. Poor Troy, he's so left-brained he has no concept of this type of creativity. The Relic It was fairly anti-climatic dismantling the relic. I didn't even have to use the damn crowbar. I used a $2.00 screwdriver from Dollar General and puny Nanner muscles. I will probably use a crowbar to further dismantle parts of it. I had no film but I will at least take a picture of the pieces. It became apparent this will be a rather long project. More Projects * I'm attempting to fix my dryer. I know its not the thermal fuse. With my luck, it is indeed the heating element. * Cleaning the computer/laundry/craft room. See, I can't work on the quilts if I don't have my table. No table... no quilts. I still need to send swatches of the material I have received from Trashman and Cybele to Angi to see if she can further match for me. Perhaps I can do that while continuing to get this room into shape. I have waaaaaay too much junk!! * Beading, even more beading... lots of beading. I'm going to try and get enough together for some summer festivals and things. There's a big Arts & Crafts Fair every November in the capitol city. I'm not sure how much a booth is but I'll have to see if I even have enough that if I sold every piece I could get my money back from the booth. I'm thinking of combining projects and doing a series of amulet bags using quilt patterns as inspiration. * I'm also going to try my hand at sculpting faces for bead dolls. I suppose they would be similar to Aimee's sister's dolls except they would be made of beads. Well, I guess they would have similar faces. I'm not so sure how this is going to turn out. Should be interesting to see. That's it from my end of the world. Hope you guys had a good weekend!

Is This Allowed?

I talked to AZ yesterday for the first time in at least two months. Normally we don't go that long without talking to each other. I had reminded myself several times to call him before my trip but it didn't happen. As I was talking to him, I was also chatting (via IM) with il mio amore and was reminded how very lucky I am. Lucky things never worked out between AZ and me. As I told my mother more than a while back, I was glad she showed me exactly what type of relationship/marriage I DIDN'T want and how that made me realize if I were ever with AZ romantically, I would be as miserable as she is. I know that's not very nice but its the truth. My mom and I had a series of unflattering words when I returned from my trip. She was unhappy with the fact that I informed her I was contemplating, with no real set plans, to move. She said, "Well, you don't have to leave the state." Yes, I'm afraid I do. Its not that I'm sick of being here. I love West Virginia, even though she's dying and has been for quite some time. Kristin was kind enough to send me a thorough review of life in her Texas town and do some job market research. I'm waiting on the 2004 Census numbers to come out so I can compare cost of living for Austin, San Marco, Houston, San Antonio, and the area I live now. When Trashman gets time to take a deep breath, I'll ask him for the low down on Austin and perhaps he'll cajole Jack to look around his area. I have Brighton, my sister, and Zelda and Jethro in the "Triangle of Power," that is their residences form a nice triangle in different areas around Houston. Texas is not the only place I'm looking but all of the places are to the south, southwest, or just plain west of where I am now. Its a lot to think about and I was talking with AZ last night about my house and what I should do with it... re-finish the hardwood or carpet it? Tile in the bathroom? New toilet? What about that porch? I appreciate how he's willing to help me. He's jealous of my plans. If he were not so heavily invested in the area, he would have already flown the coop. As for my mom, she wanted to know what would happen if I moved. Who would help me?? Who the fuck helps me now? The babysitter. I hear they have those out-of-state. Nate's dad runs hot and cold in the assistance department. Sometimes I think he is coming around but he doesn't have any stamina. Other than that, I depend on my friends. It was Bob and T-Bird who helped me put in my hot water tank. Its my neighbors who watch my cats. Then my mom asked, "Well, just who would you stay with when you come home to visit?" I said, "What are you talking about?" "Well, you would rather spend time with your friends than your own parents!" Here it is my people (as Jeanette would say), that's it right there in a nutshell. Its not about missing me or Nate, or our happiness, or what better opportunities are out there for us, its about her. I know I won't explain this correctly but the statement she made above is so indicitive of her, her mentality and attitude. She's jealous and she was mad at me for going to see AJ, and she was mad at me for going to Louisiana and Texas to visit my friends and relatives. She is this way because she'll never have the balls to do it herself. She lives a half-life. I haven't told her about il mio amore. He's everything I've ever dreamed of, everything I've ever wanted. I never knew that caring so deeply about someone could be so peaceful as opposed to the angst-filled, anxiety-riddled, insecure fiascos that have plaqued my life before. My cup runneth over. I don't ever want to tell her. I want to wallow in my happiness and peace and not have to worry about bracing myself for the inevitable shit storm. As always, I'm very non-traditional. Did I also mention that I'm totally incapable of deciding anything for myself? Obviously this "moving thing" was someone else's idea and I'm being "influenced" by outside sources. I am being influenced. I'm being influenced by you, bloggers. I'm being influenced to live my life, be happy, and successful, and that I deserve those things. When I told her I quit smoking, she asked, "Well! What made you do that?" This coming from a woman who is a very verbal opponent to smoking. I'm sorry peeps if you got the wrong idea about me. I really can't make any decisions for myself, I have to be made to do something or influenced by an outside source. So sorry I'm not who you thought I was. *dripping black sarcasm* Now, add to it the fact my dad has been having pains underneath his right arm and down into the ribcage since DECEMBER. No, its not his heart. We don't know what it is. Why? Because he's too cheap, CHEAP!, to ask his doctor for a chest x-ray prescription. He wants to wait until he can have it done a hundred miles away for free at the VA hospital, where they are more likely to kill you than cure you. My Dad has silicosis overlaid with asbestosis. These two conditions put him at an increased risk for lung cancer, gastro-intestinal cancers, heart failure and, the worst, mesothelioma. Mesothelioma is cancer of the mesothelial tissues, the thin membrane linings of the lungs, chest, abdomen, and heart. The average lifespan following diagnosis of mesothelioma is six months. Meso is caused by the inhalation of asbestos fibers and I describe it as "cancer on crack." When Troy worked in the private sector, he represented people with meso and he said the longest he ever saw anyone survive with it was five years. He said he had no idea how the guy lived that long and what life he did have was very unpleasant. Given how my Dad's general physical condition has deteriorated recently, I fear something more terrible has taken hold of him. As Trashman noted in this post, there are supposedly seven stages of grief or the process one goes through when dealing with chronic illnesses etc. I, like T-Man, just skipped a few. No need for shock. I already knew a lot of the men my dad worked with have asbestosis. Denial? No. Anger? HELL YES! Yes, I was angry!! I vented long and hard to AZ in a letter about it. So much so, he actually called me and asked if I was okay and then listened as I ranted and cried some more. I am still angry in a few ways but not like I was. Guilt, bargaining, depression... no. Acceptance. Aw hell. I accept the fact my father's life will end well before it should. I accept he may not live to see any of his grandchildren graduate from high school. I hate it. Its easier though because, even though he doesn't like it, my Dad is very matter-of-fact about it. That's not to say he accepts it but he's also not the type to sit and feel sorry for himself. He just keeps going. Perhaps his quasi-acceptance makes it easier on me. Perhaps its my faith that makes it easier. There's one thing though... "When I die, you will need to take care of your mother." My Dad told me that within a few months of being diagnosed. At the time, I figured that was my lot in life. I love my Dad. I love my Mom. But I'm not doing it. She's a grown woman in good health and is fairly sane. I refuse to make myself responsible for her happiness. That's what it boils down to. This is a woman who the last time she came to my house wouldn't even come inside because it didn't meet her standard of white-glovedness. She literally hasn't been in my home for 4 1/2 years, YET, bitches because I don't go to see her enough. Don't even get me started on the discrepencies between how she treats me versus my brother. I could have told her, when she made the remark about me liking my friends better than her and my dad, that she really didn't make much effort to a) be likable or b) see me. She refuses to "soften" the impossible high standards that I will never meet. Even more interesting is her assertion that I will indeed answer to her for the rest of my life for the mere simple fact that I am her daughter. If she wants to feed me, clothe me, put a roof over my head and wipe my ass... sure, I'll answer to her, until then, she can want in one hand and shit in the other and see which gets full fastest. I've been made to feel most of my life that somehow my mother's happiness is tied up in my actions, if not the very core of who I am. I didn't know at the time I started blogging that I would shed that responsibility. They continue to try and thrust it upon my shoulders. I'm not taking it. I can't make her happy. Regardless of what happens with my dad, I refuse to be responsible for someone else's happiness, her's especially. That's what my dad meant though, when he said, "take care of her," he meant, "provide for her emotional needs - at whatever cost to yourself." No. Just, no. Not over, just over for now.

Just a bit of cheating....

That's how I'll describe my quit smoking campaign. What's a campaign without someone cheating? Oh, forgot, this isn't politics. I did, I cheated. I repent before thee. No, really, I don't. I enjoyed every one of those five cigarettes. By this time I would have smoked somewhere between 180 and 220 cigarettes... five... I can deal with. I've started eating healthier and walking/jogging. I really don't care to gain weight from this. Matter of fact, I want to lose some. There's a new bead shop in town and its at the top of this hill up from where I work. Its not an incredibly long distance but its very steep. I have to turn left from my office, then turn left at the next corner, walk a little over a block and then turn right to go over the bridge. It crosses the highway and the river. I then turn right to head up the hill. The lady who runs the bead shop asked me, "Did you walk again today?" Nawwww... I'm just in jogging pants, tennis shoes, and sweating like a whore because I drove up here in air conditioning. Good thing I quit smoking... I spent $53 on beads yesterday. I'm trying to get enough pieces done to enter them to be juried on Sunday. I have exactly... uhhhh... well... nothing done right now. Fear not peeps! I have half of a choker finished. And half of a bracelet. And more beads for another necklace. And earrings are always great in a pinch. As I sit typing this my little brain is flipping over a design for earrings to go with the bracelet I'm making. I'm using delica beads for the first time. What are delicas? They're Japanese seed beads know for their variable colors and uniform size which makes your pieces very ... precise and, well, uniform. There, you learned something today. I don't care if it was useful or not. Don't you ever play Trivial Pursuit? Never going to be on "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire" huh? You know what? I still feel a bit cranky. Okay... a lot cranky.

Today...

*Updated With Photos* Is the day my Ma-Ma died, six years ago. In three days, it will be one year that my Pa-Pa died and three days after that, is my Ma-Ma's birthday. I always confuse her birthday with the year she was born. She was born in the year 1920 and I always think of "20" as the day she was born. Then I remember she is (was?) 50 years older than me, just like my mom is 50 years older than Nate. It was raining the day she died, just like it is today. I remember it very vividly as I had been called home from a trip to Michigan and I saw her in Intensive Care, which was a running joke in my family since it was in ICU after her aortic bi-fem bypass that I passed out. I wasn't expecting her to be intubated and unresponsive when I saw her and after a long day of college classes, working, minimal food, and the emotion... I just couldn't get out of the room fast enough. Not fast enough to the point I told her I would be right back and perhaps I squeezed her hand a bit too hard but her eyes flew open and Nanner hit the floor. LOL!! I laugh now and she always asked me after that if I was okay to visit her in the hospital. I told her, "So long as its not ICU." But I did see her in ICU, and she was intubated but she knew me and she tried to talk to me but they were getting ready to do her dialysis which involved sticking a needle in her shunt which... Nanner can't handle. I took her hand and looked into her eyes as she mouthed around the tube and I said, "I know you love me." Those were the last words we ever shared. My Ma-Ma was a strong, opinionated woman. I have a lot of her in me. Enough that I'm cognizant of her strengths and her flaws and how those flaws affected my mom and her sisters. I miss her to this day and perhaps didn't realize how much until I started writing this. I know that on her birthday, it will be six years that I signed the contract to buy my house. My house was her gift to me. My house was exactly what I had wanted, was exactly where I wanted, was exactly verbatim what I had told her I wanted. I have no doubt that she manipulated and/or influenced the factors which lead me to where I am today. I don't care what anyone else thinks. I know. Just as my grandfather told my mom that the morning after her death he awoke to the sound of her calling his name. Just as I know that she came to visit me right after her death and let me hear her laughter so that I knew she was okay. Just as I know it was her spirit in my living room in the form of a sparkle of light. Just as I know the doe I saw on Christmas Day in my grandfather's yard was her spirit, was her sign to me, that was still here and... she was coming for him. My Pa-Pa died on April 15th last year. I don't recall if I blogged about the last time I saw him or not. Regardless, Lex and I were seeing each other at the time and I had the feeling that I should go see my Pa-Pa as he had been bragging about his church (the same "Fruit of a Christian" church) and something (someone?) told me I had better go see him because if I didn't the next time I would see him would be in that church but he would be dead. And I'll be damned! If I hadn't seen him that Sunday, the next time I saw him would have been at his wake, in that church. Now, my Pa-Pa was a different type person. Old school stoic, but loving. Quiet but stern. I loved him but my relationship with him was completely different than with my Ma-Ma. The family said that his death was just an early birthday present for my Ma-Ma. My grandparents grew up a few doors down from each other and, yes, as I've said before, were related, quite closely. As you can tell, that didn't stop them. My Ma-Ma told my Pa-Pa as they walked home from school one day on a rocky dirt road that when she got old enough she was going to marry him. She moved out of her home at the age of 16 to live with him and they moved to the area where my Mom and her siblings were born. I can remember her meeting him at the door and kissing him as he came home from work. I remember him holding her hand and crying after the surgery to implant her dialysis shunt because she couldn't have any pain medication. They spent their entire lives together. The five years in between their deaths, in some ways, was cruel. I cry for the beauty of seeing, in my mind's eye, them walking down that rocky dirt road together, holding hands, young and in love and my Ma-Ma looking at my Pa-Pa and saying... "See Archie, I told you I was gonna marry you." My Pa-Pa - 1936 My Ma-Ma - 1936

Relic

When I get my pictures back, I’ll re-visit my vacation and fill-in holes and blanks. I will share briefly the story of the stoner in Beaumont, Texas. I had stopped for gas and you can’t get gas unless you pay for it up front so I was jacking around with the credit card thingy when this guy on the other side of my pump asked me if I thought it would be quicker to take 105 to Conroe or to stay on I-10, go through Houston, and take I-45 North. I told him I wasn’t from the area but I had a map. He came over and I pulled out my “Courtesy of the Great State of Texas - Texas Is A Big Ass State So We Have A Big Ass Roadmap” roadmap and as I already had it folded around to the Houston area all I had to do was find Conroe. So, as I’m perusing said map, Stoner Dude, says, “So, do you smoke?” I’m not naive but I did give him a very stupid look and slowly said, “Uhhhhh... yeah?” Umm... I think? No? Yes? WTF? He gave me a slow grin and said, “No baby, you know, herb,” putting his stoner fingers to his mouth in the classic toke position, “weed...” I gave him the “Nanner thinks you’re a dumbass stoner” look and said, “No, I’m fucked up enough without it.” He kind of laughed and I tried to bring his attention back around to the map. I asked him if 105 was two lane or four lane and he said, “Ohhh, I think it’s a two lane.” I said, “You need to stay on a four lane. I would just go to Houston and head north.” “Really you think so?” By now, okay, I got the picture. The guy didn’t give a shit about how to get to Conroe. I could detect a slight trace of an alcoholic beverage on his breath and his grin was definitely pot induced. Loverly. “So, are you single?” I looked at him over the top edge of my sunglasses, head cocked in a very Labrador like manner, eyebrows raised.... Oh my Gawd, I’m being picked up at a gas station and not even a truck stop at that. I’m losing my touch. “Uhhh... NO! I’m not single. HAP-pily not single. Not single.” OY! Anyway... My real point of this post is about the bed frame in my bedroom. I have a king-size waterbed frame made from... oak or some other hardwood. Its heavy as hell. I couldn’t even begin to lift the headboard when it was apart. This monstrosity no longer has a waterbed mattress. Too many cats, too many holes, too much work. Plus, it was Holland’s. He left it here since I had gotten rid of my mattresses. I think he just didn’t want to move it again. What a bitch. So... yeah, he left it for me. Naturally. This bedframe belonged to his parents for a long time before they gave it to him. The cats have used the cushioned side rails as a scratching post, the Pisser-Dog Jessie was too little to get on the bed so she scratched the hell out of the sides of it, and, honestly, I hate the motherfuckin’ thing. I don’t even want to take it apart. I just want to burn it, right there in the house. I don’t think my homeowners insurance would cover that though. However, I do have: a Philip’s head, a flat head, a crowbar, and a saw. In a pinch, I know my Dad has a chainsaw. I want to dismantle this thing in the most disgusting way possible. I look at my porch and think... ya know... I could use some new lattice work around the bottom... hmmmmmm... I look at the 12 drawers on the waterbed and think.... hmmmmmm... all that wood. Don’t think I won’t do it. Hell, I’ll even take pictures. I’ve hated this damn thing for a long time. Since I only have queen size mattresses.... well... I don’t give a shit anymore. I was supposed to go see Troy next weekend but that’s been switched to this weekend. Nate and I will meet him in Lexington, VA, three hours away, for dinner. So, while Nate is at his dad’s next weekend... :-) Hee hee hee hee hee... I’m trashing that piece of shit. The thought of taking a crowbar and wedging it into a crevice, pulling with all my strength, and hearing the crack and splintering of wood... its almost orgasmic. And on that note... have a great weekend everyone!!!

I'm A Travelin' Peach - Part II

Now that I feel less inclined to kill someone, I can continue with my narrative. Tinyhands Ha ha ha. The joke was on us. I thought "Tinyhands" would be the exact opposite of the woman featured in the Seinfeld episode with the manhands. Not so, not so. I have photographic evidence. Its just questionable as to when I may be able to post it. Yes, the Nanner is poor and what was I thinking paying the mortgage instead of getting my pictures developed!?! Anyway, as Tinyhands walked past the windows, Zelda remarked that it may be him as he looked like "that guy from Friends." I said, "Joey?" "No." "Chandler?" "No." Brighton said, "ROSS!" "Yes, that's it!" And yes, he does resemble Ross in a number of ways, its quite uncanny. Especially the smile. He and I sat on opposite ends of the table so it wasn't real easy for us to communicate. However, I can say that he slid quite comfortably into the group and seemed to be very at ease with us crazy peeps, especially since Brighton, Zelda, and I did more than our share of dominating the conversation. We got to hear first hand about the nephews and niece. Although, admittedly, I was buzzing a bit at this point and being at the far end of the table it was difficult for me to follow the conversation. I followed a bit more of the conversation relating to another personal matter that I won't go into here. Tinyhands has a great personality, very congenial, laid-back, interesting fellow. I wish I had had more of an opportunity to spend time with him. And knowing that he is a private person, I appreciate him coming out and having drinks with us. AJ Following a dismal trip from New Orleans to Nashville, nothing was more welcome than the friendly faces of AJ and Michelle, not to mention that peach margarita. As AJ said in his blog of my return trip, we talked a lot about my future, the impending changes in my future, but also, the past. It was our beloved Jack, our Texas Music Jack, who pointed out, "The only constant is change, my friend. We're like water...we stagnate if we don't flow." Stagnate water smells too and breeds mosquitoes. Frankly, I can recall talking about a lot of things with AJ. I can't exactly recall what all of them were though. I believe I was a bit more exhausted than I recognized until AJ blogged and my brain was extremely foggy. Plus, this non-smoking thing has not been wonderful for my concentration and putting forth the effort at remembering things. I just know that spending time with AJ has gone from that favorite uncle, to favorite cousin, to favorite older brother. Well, I'm looking into it but it really may be a while until I can post the pictures. Until then, I will regale you with further written expressions of my trip. I am still feeling a bit sluggish, which I understand is normal when quitting smoking. grrrrrrr....

I'm A Travelin' Peach - Part I

I know, I know, I know. You don’t REALLY want to hear about all the miles I drove, the wrecks I saw, the food I ate, how many different kinds of margaritas I had, and cheesecake, and some stoner trying to pick me up in Beaumont, Texas. You want to hear about Seven, Brighton, Zelda, Jethro, Tinyhands, and, my second trip to see AJ. I know what you want. Fine. I’ll post pictures tomorrow or Thursday or both. Seven I was late meeting him and I hoped that he had called his mom as I had reached her on the phone to let her know we were going to be late. I searched all around Cafe Du Monde for him and didn’t see him so I went to stand in line with my cousin. After about five minutes I spotted him standing on the corner, craning his neck. I waved my arms to get his attention. He kind of looked shell-shocked. Guess even in NOLA its unusual for people to look like they’re doing the Y-M-C-A. We were able to get a seat and Seven graciously paid for our brief respite of the most wonderful coffee and beignets. YUM! We chit-chatted about this and that, the weather, which was kinda crappy, although given the fact I’ve been in NOLA during the heat of summer, it was a welcome change. At least it kept the smell down. Seven was a very good sport about our shopping plans. NOLA has some great shops for voodoo, hoodoo, jewelry, nice clothes, and beads! BEADS! Oh...ahem. Anyway, as we walked along we talked about his plans for the future and how my trip was going. Like he said on his blog, we walked for a VERY LONG TIME. Luckily we took a break right about the time the rain started and we kicked back in relative comfort while watching the rain drip off the canopies. Seven was a little more quiet in person than I had anticipated. He’s rather nice-looking and I don’t think his pictures do him much justice. As we talked about his future plans in web design, I could see the wheels turning in his head, full of ideas! For those who don’t know, Seven is who did my blog design. During our late lunch, Seven ordered some fried oysters which were undoubtedly the best fried oysters I’ve ever had. They were perfect! The Po-Boys (I had catfish and shrimp), were incredible, if not messy. Very messy! I actually ended up dropping a tomato into my shoe as when I sat down I took my sandals off and put my feet under me. (Yes, blisters) and that’s how the tomato fell in my shoe. Anyway, due to my tight schedule and trip to Houston, I knew I wouldn’t have anymore free time while in NOLA. My cousin’s birthday party was also during that week, so indeed I was a busy Nanner. I want to thank Seven for his generosity (he purchased a gift for me - a butterfly hair clasp). I’m so glad we got to meet each other and learn a little about the person behind the blog. Brighton I talked to Brighton Sunday evening before I left for Houston. We talked for quite a while and hit it off immediately. Her home is located about 15 miles from my sister so this saved me having to brave Houston traffic. I arrived right behind Sarah as she exited her special school bus in her wheelchair. Brighton introduced me to her sons, David and Hunter. Unfortunately, Annie wasn’t home. Brighton’s home is just beautiful and very classy and elegant. A lot like... Brighton. She is firm but very loving with her kids. Very firm... as Hunter found out as he tried to cajole chocolate milk out of her. She also does it with a distinct sense of humor. Hunter did crack me up by coming up to me and saying, "I pooped in the potty," which Brighton had warned me was coming. It did. He was so adorable!!! Especially since he also doesn’t care much for clothes. Hahahahahahahaha!!! Unfortunately, I didn’t break out the camera!!!! ACK!! So, sorry. I did stick my foot in my mouth... as I was discussing a cousin who had been married quite a number of times, to which Brighton... ahemed... as she has also had her fair share of marriages. Brighton, honey.... like I said, NO COMPARISON. She’s working on number... five. If she had the intelligence, drive, determination, and class you have in your little finger, she’d be so much better off!! And that IS Brighton. Intelligent, adorable, classy, outgoing, bubbly, and sharp. Nothing gets past her. You can tell she’s used her life experience to make her life better. She’s learned from her mistakes. You can tell from the warmth of her smile and the look in her eyes how she feels. And boy, was that evident when her husband came home. Travis and I didn’t have much of an opportunity to talk but I felt like I got a good look at his character from Brighton... and something I’ll talk about later in the post. Zelda and Jethro Like Brighton, Zelda and I talked for quite a while on the phone before I went to her house to spend the day. Now, some of you, behind Le Blog, had expressed concern that Zelda and I would lock horns. We have the same views on where we want our country to go, just not on how to get there. We don’t agree on abortion, the war in Iraq, or Terry Schiavo. I had a few thoughts myself but Zelda told me at some point, "You know, we have a lot more in common than not." And we do. The best part is... we both realize that we’re not going to change each other’s minds on the issues we disagree on, which leaves, little to argue about. Love her heart, I showed up a wee bit earlier than she expected and caught her in the middle of laundry. However, her darling daughter, Emma, was more than happy to keep me company while Z. flitted around. What an adorable little girl!! Made me want a little girl!! In the worst way. Jethro came in later and I sat for a moment and looked at him because he didn’t see me laying on the couch. (How’s that for blogger comfort?) I have to say, they were both exactly what I thought they would be - intelligent, funny, informed, honest, forthright, and very complimentary to one another in the sense of finishing each other’s sentences, and looking at each other as though to gather their thoughts. Its hard to describe Zelda... in that she’s a lot like Brighton, a lot like myself in personality, but has this very mature undertone. She’s very warm, and she smiles beautifully. She and Jethro are such... a cool couple who I really admire. They work hard and are content and happy to be with each other. They have a great peacefulness about them that I like. Jethro is as smart and articulate as you would think, with a bit of seriousness, yet... a great sense of humor lurking underneath. Not to mention, they fed me some great food and graciously opened their home, children, and couch to me for almost two days!!! Thank you so much from the absolute bottom of my heart!!! Now, here’s the interesting thing which I mentioned above about Brighton and Travis, and the same applies to Jethro and Zelda. I was able to observe these couples in a potentially awkward setting, I mean, why take my word for it how wonderful someone is??? As everyone had a few drinks and relaxed, I started picking up the body language. Did you know women read body language 10 times better than men? And what I noticed, was how casually Travis had his arm along the back of Brighton’s chair, as though he just needed somewhere to put it. Until... He absentmindedly ran his fingers up to her shoulder and smoothed a piece of her hair back behind her ear. I don’t think either of them really realized that he had even done it. I was sitting beside of Zelda, and Jethro, likewise, had his arm on the back of her chair. Sometime during the night, I watched him reach up and smooth his fingers through the strands of her hair and kind of moved it off of her shoulder, and she leaned forward and placed her hand on his thigh. Again, I’m not sure they even realized it. Then again, maybe they did. I, for one, found it really... moving. To the point I just got a big lump in my throat. I enjoy seeing my friends happy and in good relationships. I’m happy they will give their children a good example of what love really is. (As for Emma and Gwennie, well, they just deserve their own little post.) ****************************************** Now, before I get all maudlin, or am I there? I need to go. I’m terribly sorry, Tinyhands and AJ will have to wait until tomorrow. Why? Because I quit smoking Sunday night or Monday morning. That means, I’M NOT VERY FUCKING HAPPY!! I feel like I have a 50 lb. weight on my head and I would like to strangle someone. Shut up telling me I’ll feel better. Shut up telling me its for my own good and shut up telling me you’re proud. I really don’t want to fucking hear it. I WANT A FUCKING CIGARETTE!!! *Overheard* *ring ring* Nate: Hello? T-Bird: Is your mom there? Nate: Yeeeeahhhhhhh... but... she’s a weeeee bit cranky right now. BWHAHAHAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!! *snarl*

I'm A Travelin' Peach - Prologue

So, I did it. I traveled to Louisiana and Texas all by my lonesome and have lived to tell the tale. Traveling is in my blood. I love it. Even when things aren't perfect, hell, at least I'm not home with my thumb stuck up my ass. I thought I would start this series off with my favorite traveling story. It will also stall long enough for me to get the film developed on Tuesday. Its my favorite story because its so terrible. Its not just about being in a shitty situation but also about friends and strength. Our story opens in July of 1989. I have just completed my year's stay in Germany and have taken the train from my small hamlet to the big city of Bonn. Our group had started out with 60 teenagers and 55 of us had survived and thrived in Deutschland. Several of them were on my connecting train, not to mention, several more who would get on at various other stops. The thing about the Deutsche Bahn (German railroad) is ... nothing stops it. You get your butt on or it leaves without you. So, when we pulled into a station and see 12 of our fellow exchange students standing on the platform with a year's worth of luggage, we all get off, form a line, and schlep all the luggage onto the train while the conductor is yelling, "Einsteigen, einsteigen, schnell!" (Get on, get on, quickly!) We repeated this several times and when we then had to disembark at Bonn, we once again, formed a line, and tossed and schlepped. Damn Deutsche Bahn. Oh, but then we had to toss and schlep to the two buses which were to take us to the youth hostel and once again when we got there, and once again as we got back on the buses to go to Düsseldorf Flughafen (Airport), and once again when we got to the airport. OY! We were flying from Düsseldorf due to the Lockerbie tragedy (or so they said - I think it was just the closest international airport which wasn't Frankfurt). In those days, security was already much tighter in Europe than in the U.S. So, we arrived two hours before our flight, most of us hungover as it was our last night in which we could legally drink. Upon arrival they delayed our flight two hours. I think it was closer to three hours late when we finally got in the air. First stop was Brussels, Belgium. We had the option, during our hour layover, to either stay on the plane or to disembark and take all of our carry-on luggage with us. I chose to stay behind and wished I hadn't when they delayed the flight again, probably an hour or more. So, I'm stuck in the plane for 2 - 3 hours. I couldn't leave because of the bomb dogs. Once they came through, too bad, you're not going anywhere. Then, when they re-loaded the plane these nice people sat in front of me and proceeded to lay their seats all the way back, into my lap. Ahhh... international relations. They spoke only French. I speak only German, English, and sign language (the good and bad kind). I asked the steward if he could possibly ask them to raise their seats a little to give us more space. No. They had paid for their tickets and they were leaving their seats. Oh. Well, as I was seated in the first row of smoking and they in the last row of non-smoking, I made sure their trip was very uncomfortable, at least from a breathing aspect. Not to mention the number of times on an international flight when I "accidentally" bumped their seats as I was going to the restroom or trying in vain to get comfortable. Somewhere over the Atlantic we were informed there was bad weather over New York City and we would possibly be diverted to Heathrow Airport in England. At a minimum, our flight plan had been modified and we would now be arriving at least an hour late. Add this to the first two hour delay, and the one to two hour delay in Brussels and we're now running approximately four to four and half hours behind schedule. We did eventually land in New York City at John F. Kennedy Airport, only to find out that our connecting flight to Washington, D.C. had left without us and ... they were no more shuttle flights that night. What do we do? We schlep ourselves and all of our luggage into two buses for the ride to LaGuardia, where the shuttle flights run all night. There were about 50 of us on the first bus and the remaining on the second bus. If you have never ridden in a vehicle in NYC, then I would suggest taking a Valium before doing so. Its frightening, especially in something as large as a bus. We quickly lost the other bus in traffic and our anxiety was peaking. Would we all make it? Airport officials met us outside with luggage racks, which we, of course, filled with all that fucking luggage. They were holding the flight for us, we needed to book it. We couldn't wait on the other bus. We ran through the airport. Luckily, it wasn't like it is now, otherwise we wouldn't have made it. What we didn't realize is that the other bus had pulled up right as we all took off. Yes, it was like the Hertz commercial with O.J. Simpson. I heard a shout behind me and looked. It was John from the other bus waving us forward, "Keep going!" Some of us slowed to a fast walk but the airport employees urged us on and we ran onto the plane. The other passengers didn't look any happier than we did, but I guarantee they certainly looked more rested. I sat down in a window seat and looked out. Lightning. Thunder. Torrential rain. When John and the rest boarded the flight we all clapped. Yay! We were all there! We sat there for a while and I happened to look out the window again. The ground crew had taken shelter, leaving our luggage in the rain, and mine was on top. Oh. *sigh* They finally loaded the luggage and we taxied onto the runway. The engines powered down. The captain announced another delay of approximately 30 minutes. I was so tired I just leaned my head back and fell asleep. I woke up when the engines revved and I looked at my watch. It had been 45 minutes. Lightening was still streaking, thunder still rumbling, and rain still pouring as we lifted off. The plane shook and quaked, dove and rose. I've never been scared to fly but that scared me. My hands gripped the armrests and I closed my eyes. When the quaking stopped, I opened my eyes and looked out of the plane. Below me were black rolling clouds but even though the sun was well below the horizon by then, every one of those black clouds was touched by vibrant red light. Its still one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. As we landed in Washington, we all drew a long shuttering breath. Food and beds awaited us... you know, after we schlepped that luggage into two more buses and made the trip to the university. Our counselors were thrilled to see us!! They had lost us over the Atlantic. No one could tell them where we were. Someone said we were in Heathrow, someone else said we had been diverted to Greenland (whaaa?), and even someone else said we were still in NYC. One of our counselors was said to have sputtered to an airport official, "HOW IN THE HELL CAN YOU LOSE 55 BILINGUAL TEENAGERS???" Regardless, we were there, and there in one piece. Our counselor told us that it was a good example of how much we had grown and came together as a group. We had something to do, and we did it. Had it happened on the way to Germany, it would have been chaos. That's my worst and best travel experience. And John Drake, I'll never forget you running behind me in LaGuardia. Yvonne, Brianna, Veronica, Jeremy, Genevieve, Zosia, Steve, May, Kara, Stephen, Scott, Bill, Julie, Anne, Ann, Kris-Ann, Sarah, Jenn, Jennifer, Michael, Mike, Dana, Renee, Sonya, and the others whose faces I can still see, but whose names escape me, I still think of you.

Road Weary...

6 bloggers (Thanks Noonie.... Nanner is tooooo tired) 7 states 10 days 43 hours on the road 2,604 miles I think... I need a nap.