Me. Oh. My.

So, I found some guy skulking around my car this morning. I’m not sure if it was my car he was looking at. (That was one of Jeff’s gripes, my car was junky) I cleaned part of it out yesterday but its been so dang hot and humid its hard to sit in a car long enough to clean it out so I started late in the evening and didn’t get finished. Maybe the guy wanted my garbage. Yeah, that’s incriminating evidence... yard clippings, the corners of non-eaten PB&Js in sandwich bags, wrappers from my sweets addiction, water bottles, milk bottles, petrified french fries, various and sundry papers of no incriminating value... those meth cookers got nuttin on me! I noticed that my saw is missing. It may be behind the house for one reason or another or the cats might have knocked it off of the porch and its beside of it. Or someone just stole it. I have to use that saw to cut the waterbed headboard in half so the garbage men can haul it off. Oh well, I’ll go buy another one! I’ve been praying a lot lately, even before this fiasco came about. I’ve felt the need to be closer to my Goddess. I pray for strength and protection and direction. I can’t do everything myself and as depressed as I have been lately I’ve needed a bit more of a boost. The novella idea was one thing but getting my house in order is something I have definitely been wanting to do and had already started before this. I work to find balance between helping myself and allowing myself to be helped, whether it be a physical entity or a spiritual one. Right now, ha ha ha, I’m not one much for physical entities. I wouldn’t let the President of the United States in my yard right now. Oh, wait, I don’t trust him anyway. Okay, maybe the Pope, nevermind... that whole witch burning thing... yeah don’t trust him either. Oh yeah, Jeff called this morning at 12:21 but before I could answer he hung up. *sigh* Perhaps its silly to worry, but what if and I mean ‘WHAT IF’ something would go wrong at my house, as in, Jeff would get on one of his drunks and come to my house? Supposedly he has his “friends” on my town’s police department. Could I even trust my own police officers to be fair? Can I in any way trust my police? Don’t think I don’t know all about the blue wall and the blue this and the blue that. My spirits have a way about them though. I had to watch the phones again yesterday from 4-5. I was soooo sleepy and I only meant to lay my head down for a minute... but yeah, I fell asleep at the front desk. I couldn’t have been asleep longer than 10-15 minutes. Though if its any indication how sleepy I was I immediately fell into REM and I was dreaming... that I was asleep (which signifies that I’m in a peaceful period in my life) and I was in a hotel (which signifies I need to find a new way to deal with an old problem) but I heard knocking at the door and I could see that it was T-Bird and Jeff knocking (The knocking signifies my subconscious is trying to attract my attention to some aspect of myself or to some waking situation. A new opportunity - or money - may be presented to me - from www.myjellybean.com) Amazing relevance to my situation, don’t you think? Maybe just a follow up of what happened Tuesday. Things are stirring. The spirits are awakening. Can you feel it?

George, George, George

*STAR WARS SPOILERS* Dear Mr. Lucas: I just watched “Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith.” Although I found it incredibly sad, and made me just too damn sympathetic for Darth Vader in the later movies, I got a serious bone to pick with you, dude. Now, besides the fact R2 can’t fly in the first... errrrr... last three episodes, and the stone faced, sulking, gawd where did he learn how to do love scenes Anakin, and what was up with Padme’?? Why did you turn her into a simpering fool? The same woman who used a decoy to save her life, flew a starship, fought wild beasts, and fell out of a speeder suddenly turns into this... this... crying, whiny...UGH!! That’s the way to take the balls outta the galaxy, George! However, I must say, you did, or rather Ewan McGregor and Ian McDiarmid did, kick ass jobs as Obi-Wan and the Chancellor/Emperor/Palpatine. The Scots have it. Ewan McGregor was practically channeling Sir Alec Guinness. Is that weird or what? However, my biggest gripe is... in “The Return of the Jedi,” Luke specifically asks Leia about her mother, her real mother, and what she was like. Leia says she was very beautiful and kind but sad. HELLO!!! HELLLLLOOOO!! HELLO!? Is this thing on? I mean, WTF?? First, you turn one kick ass, take charge lady into a heartsick, love schmucka!! Then, it completely goes against the 6th Episode that Star Wars geeks, such as myself, have watched over 300 times (okay, maybe 30)!! GAHHHHH!!! George!! Say it ain’t so!! Ahhhh... pfffft!!!

85 Minutes

Just had a conversation with Nate’s dad or rather, he did a lot of talking and I did a lot of listening. It was a strange conversation but something I have sensed coming for a while. In a nutshell he told me that he had pictures of the inside of my house, taken by one of my “friends” and he would have my friends, the friends of my friends, my ex-babysitter, and a police officer from the city I live in to testify what a horrible mother I am and that he has been amassing evidence against me for the past two years to take Nate away from me. But he didn’t want to do that. But he would. But he wasn’t going to. In one breath he told me that he knew how much I had sacrificed for Nate and in the next breath... How I didn’t do anything for Nate and how he deserved so much better than the 8 years that I’ve given him. In one breath he told me that he didn’t give a shit about me and if I died tomorrow that he would make sure I got a proper burial but otherwise he didn’t give a damn whether I lived or died but in the next breath... Told me how he still loved me and how I took a huge chunk out of his heart so many years ago. Yet he said he didn’t give a damn what I did on weekends when Nate wasn’t with me. I could fly off to New Orleans or wherever and have my boyfriend stick his dick in my ass and I could lick his ass all I wanted He said that Nate cried when I left for New Orleans and Houston (Nate denied that) because I was so selfish not to take him with me and if I could afford to go there and here and everywhere then I could afford to buy Nate a TV for his room and have cable, because its a disgrace not to have cable.... Yet then said he was sure he didn’t pay me enough money to help with expenses.... Yet I was getting my money and by God it wasn’t to be used to fly all over the country... And all he did four years ago was bust Nate’s ass until he put bruises on it and that was okay and he was still a better person than me because I didn’t have the balls to call him and tell him that I was going to sue him for custody but he was bigger and better because he was calling me to tell me that although he had all the evidence to take Nate, and all these people to back him up, that he loved Nate too much to take him away from his Mama. Then he tells me how smart I am and how that’s what my fucking problem is... I’m too damn smart and therefore incapable of leading a normal everyday life. My mind could see deep into matters that others never thought of and he akinned it to Aqualung, the local brilliant homeless guy. Too smart for my own damn good. I’ll be the first to admit peeps, as I have before, that my house could use a good scrubbing and yes, I’m ashamed of it right now. Right now, the outside looks good... the inside looks like hell. And yes, I fully intend on doing something about it and not because of the 85 minutes I spent on the phone. I’ll do it for me and Nate, as I do all things. I held steady on the phone but admittedly I cried when I hung up. I cried because I haven’t done better in the past and I cried, frankly, because I know someone close to me has betrayed my trust and confidence. That person is T-Bird. As I said, I’ve felt this coming on. I’ve felt the eyes upon me. Seems funny that my neighbors can have a jungle in their backyard yet I’m the one who gets called in to the city. Seems funny that my neighbors can have 10 cats running around their yard but one of mine does something wrong and the humane officer is sent out. Seems funny their garbage can pile up on their back deck until the back door isn’t visible but I leave a couple bags for longer than a week and I’m being called in on . It didn’t take much to put two and two together... why? Because T-Bird is in big with the local PD and makes it a point, of course, to point that out every chance she gets. She’s also only one of two people besides myself who has had access to my house in the past year. I know Hagar and his wife aren’t going to come in my house and take pictures but you can better believe that if I EVER prove that T-Bird has ANY part in this... oh Gawd, ya’ll will see me on the Weekly World News. That’s the part that really, really sucks. Unless Jeff spills the beans on who it is, I’m stuck not knowing. I don’t doubt him because he sounded kinda messed up when he called and he knows WAY TOO MUCH about things I’ve never mentioned much less discussed with him. Peeps, I leave other people alone. Yeah, I may try to irritate my neighbors but I don’t do it to hurt them. I mind my own business and I expect others to mind theirs. I don’t do things purposefully to hurt other people and now this fucked up individual has spilled the beans on all of them. I’d like to believe that he’s just blowing smoke and the person who professes to be my best friend in the world wouldn’t betray me like that. If she had a problem with something I’m doing that she would come to me with it. But deep down... I know he’s not blowing smoke. The jealousy and silence over il mio amore should have been a dead giveaway for me to watch my back. And my friends... it was told to me long ago by a psychic that not only do I have a multitude of spirits around me but they will take care of me and mine. If any dirty work needs to be done, they will do it. I don’t have to ask. I don’t have to request. I don’t have to conjure or do spells or think special thoughts. They see my need and they act. The last time they stepped in Jeff was arrested, lost his job, was in and out of mental facilities, and addicted to drugs. It would certainly be a shame for shit like that to start happening to other people... So much for my post about Viggo Mortensen. Guess it can wait. In the meantime, I’ll be cleaning as I had already planned to do, and writing as I had planned and working and taking care of Nate, just like I had planned, and my spirits, well, they’ll be taking care of the rest.

Eau de Nanner

I worked in my yard ALL WEEKEND. It was 90 both days but the humidity was low. Casa Moon now looks highly presentable. Except for the porch. I haven’t cleaned it off yet. I weed-eated around my fence, and even wielded my weedeater like a razor and shaved my fence line since the nabes (Hagar and Co.) have allowed the berry vines and honeysuckle (not to mention two trees!) to take over my half of the fence. Their backyard looks like a jungle. I wouldn’t go in there without a machete and that’s just for the flesh eating spiders as big as my hand that I’m sure are lurking there. Might even be a Gila Monster or an escapee from the local prison. One just never knows. And then I weedeated part of the yard itself because parts of it were too high for my mower to pass over easily. Plus, I did a lot of that to piss off my other nabes. I kept the constant whine of the weedeater going so they couldn’t have a normal conversation and had to go in their house. She got me back today by blasting Christian music while she cleaned out her car whilst I was raking all of the ground clutter (dead leaves, limbs, vines, clippings etc.) from around the house and bagging it up. Then I pulled out the lawnmower... point Nanner. While raking some dead (uber-dead) leaves, Nate and I ran across a little fella that looks like this. This is the Dysdera crocata, class - Arachnida, Order - Araneae, family - Dysderidae, genus - Dysdera, otherwise known as the European Garden Spider. I had never seen one before but cool to know that a spider in my yard is in the same Order as the one that bit Spiderman. Wolf spiders, however, are very common. Furry little shites. The Dysdera was after these little suckers. Which remind me of the pillbugs in “A Bug’s Life.” “You fired! *clap* "Hey!" If you don’t know what that means then watch the movie! So, I have raked and weed eated and mowed until I’m sore all over. I can barely raise my arms which is a good thing because I stink. I have a red neck from wearing my hair up, the same hair which is stiff with dried sweat, dirt, and particles of grass and weeds. Since I have yet to comb the snarls out I may have one of those Dysderas in there... or a Gila Monster. One just never knows.

HAPPY FREAKIN' FRIDAY!!!

Finally, I have come up with a new idea for an erotica novella. In March or so of 2003, I wrote “Rainy Day,” which I have published a couple chapters of on my NaNoWriMo blog, and submitted it to a publishing house. I got a standard form letter back but at the bottom the editor had written a note telling me they liked my writing but the subject matter was too serious and encouraged me to submit again. Two years later, I’m still getting there. I immediately started writing another novella but it seemed forced. I then started a re-write of “Higher House,” a fantasy/medieval novella I had written in the Spring of 2002. That didn’t quite seem right either and I’m too ADD to go back and re-write. It’s the same principal as my beading... its so hard to do the same thing twice!! And I made a mistake when I was telling someone about it, its almost 33,000 words, not 60,000. I wrote it though in 11 days. That’s probably why it sucks. The story is awesome and I love it. I can tell you point by point exactly what needs fixed, and what needs scrapped, and what needs added. Its on the list. I will rewrite it simply because I love that damn story. I’m not sure how I came by the storyline for “Nightmare.” It should have been as easy as falling off of a log and I should have thought of it a long time ago. I’m really excited about it and as soon as I finish this post I’m going to start on it. Julie was right. This is what doldrums are for. I’ll keep you informed as to my progress. This sooooo rocks!!! This post is done now, think of me typing away this weekend. Send me good thoughts about elves. I know that won’t be hard for Leese!! Have a great one and Happy Friday!!

All Over the Map

MEN! HMPF! What is it with men? Maybe its just the ones I know, but how the hell is it that I dated Lex for six months and the guy never spent a dime going out with me, never actually took me anywhere, spent another six months after I broke it off to tell me how he felt six months prior, and now suddenly wants to spend time with me? Let me couch that by saying, he knows I’m seeing someone else and his chances of wiggling back in are less than zero. I’ll be damned if AZ isn’t the same way. Suddenly, now that I’m seeing someone else and have absolutely no romantic notions toward either of them, I’m suddenly their best girl friend. WTF is up with that? Not that I mind being friends with either of them... but here’s what gets me. If either of these head-stuck-so-far-in-ass-they-can’t-fart gentleman would have opened their mouths, respectively within the past 13 and 3 years, and said, “Nanner, I like ya, but I just want to be friends and be able to do stuff without worrying about all the romantic stuff,” boy would that have saved me a hell of a lot of shit. But then... you see... they couldn’t have used the “keep her hanging on until I decided what I want... the Plan B girl...” I got your Plan B. If I decide to grace either with my presence they’re paying. Speaking of Plan B My Plan B is San Antonio. The People I Greet I saw Old Don on the way to work this morning. I’d link my first story about him but I’m too lazy. He was my bus driver from the time I started Kindergarten. Now he’s old and palsied. He yelled to give my family his best regards and his oldest grandchild just graduated from high school. The sun couldn’t have been any brighter than his smile. Then there’s a guy that works at FS&B, which is another law firm the corner over from us. I keep forgetting his name but I know his grandson’s name is Trevor. Trevor was born with cerebral palsy and a host of other medical problems. At one time his seizures were so bad they didn’t think he would live another year. Little guy is only seven. I saw the lady from the sub shop across the street from FS&B. She has the same name as me. Her son-in-law owns the place and she works there. I know she’s probably shit a brick the size of a sub if she knew how he propositioned me. We’ll just keep that between us. Brenda and I saw each other in the alley. She works for the Board of Accounting has a granddaughter a little older than Nate. She’s one hip grandma. Family Schtuff My parents are still in it thick with Mr. One Cell. He has now built a fence on what he deems to be his property (but is not his property). The State Trooper told my dad, “If it were me, and I believed that fence were on MY property, I’d tear that shit down, throw it in his yard, and make him sue ME.” My parents have contacted a lawyer. I found this out when my Mo (that’s what I call her, not MoM, but MO) called to tell me my cousin has a brain aneurysm and is going into surgery today. He’s 45 years old. I’m glad they found it early enough to do surgery but that doesn’t much guarantee anything. Okay, I’m done. Is it Friday yet? Or at least 5:00 somewhere?

Doldrums

How can one be ecstatically happy in one regard and be so completely and utterly miserable in every other regard? Its not that I hate my job. I simply have lost all passion for it. It funds my life and it used to enrich it. I really love my boss. He’s a good person and a good man. I don’t like disappointing him but its getting harder and harder to get out of bed in the mornings. Everything seems to be getting harder and harder. I can’t even get the freaking grass mowed. I know I’m depressed and I’m taking my meds so I’m just hitting a rough spot. Not everything is cured by a pill. Neither of my neighbors like me much anymore, which they can kiss my ass. I’m sick of the church lady who used to keep Nate. Gawd, how can one person sit on the phone and gossip as much as she does? I swear if the phone isn’t attached to her ear she’s off running the roads. You want to know why I stopped going to church with my Mama and Papa? I recognized hypocrisy. I won’t even get into the hypocrisy I’ve seen from that bunch. Just glad they aren’t as bad as the Breeders. Or my parent’s neighbor. As for Hagar and clan... don’t even see TLC that much. We’ve been getting home later in the day so Nate and TLC don’t have much of an opportunity to play together. Also TLC has learned from his parents how to use people and Nate put a stop to that. As in, TLC was only wanting to play with Nate when he could convince me to let them use the water hose or he could get game cheats from the computer. Again, I pay for my computer and my water... if that’s the only reason you want to come over, stay the fuck home. Nanner is not in a good mood. I’m pretty sick of just about everything. I’m not going forward, but I’m not going back. Just sitting here, rocking back and forth, unable to do either. Not going back is good, not going forward sucks. I know it won’t always be like this. I know I’m going to get things straightened out and inch by inch move forward toward where I ultimately want to be. I just have no patience for waiting. I want things done yesterday. I know, deep in my heart, the waiting, the patience is a good thing. I know that plotting and planning my next move, whether mental or physical, is a good thing. I keep in mind that the Goddess watches over me and occasionally you have to stop trying to manipulate everything and go with the flow. Give it over, so to speak. Hand it over to a higher power. I made my first breast cancer awareness ribbon. I like it except for the fact its made with cheap beads so the colors even rubbed off on the thread. Schtupid cheap beads. Can’t wait to buy some real beads to do it with. I might be doing the jewelry/headpiece for my friend’s wedding. I’m excited about that. Everything in due time...

Country Roads

Thanks for your support. (Hi El Sid!! Love ya girl! Sure was good to see you lurking about.) Little Bit #1 was dying as I left the house. Shit. I thought she was going to make it. Its hard not to think of my other cats and how they are, if they’re confused... I wish I knew what cats were thinking. Went to see my Mom and Dad yesterday and spent the better part of the day with them. They are having trouble with one of their neighbors who doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together and the one he has doesn’t work half the time. He says my parents’ mailbox, paper box, and farm sign are on his property. Technically, his property does extend to the creek, which would include the mailbox etc., except... the great State of West Virginia, who turns 142 today (please begin humming, “Country Roads” to commemorate), has a 30 foot right of way along that road, as it is with every road in WV. Its on that 30 ft. right of way that my parents have their shit. Now, Mr. One Cell thinks he can just come over and tear down my parents mailbox. Can you say, FEDERAL OFFENSE? That’s it boys and girls. I knew you could. He told my dad that “things were going to start happening around here... blah blah” which my dad, rightfully, took as a threat to himself, my mom, and their property. So, my dad goes and talks to the Sheriff who is so sick of hearing complaints about Mr. One Cell that he says if he has to come out there one more time he’s going to arrest him. My dad is filing another report today about his threats. This is how stupid Mr. One Cell is. The last place he lived, about five miles from where he is now, he irritated his neighbor so bad the guy set fire to Mr. One Cell’s house and told him, “Hit the road Jack.” This is what happens when you piss of your neighbor who also happens to be a convicted AR-SON-IST. Mr. Arsonist, in a fit of road rage, followed some dude home and sets fire to his vehicle. Yeah, this is the kind of person I want to piss off. Of course Mr. Arsonist isn’t all that bright either. During the road rage incident they practically found him covered in gasoline, can in hand, ready to the light a match, although he did get by with burning out Mr. One Cell. I’m thinking Malatov Cocktail here. I know how to make napalm too. Mr. One Cell has also sent peeps by our house trying to stir dust up, spinning out in my parents’ driveway etc. and, joy, joy, he has also shot someone before. Yeah, I’m not at all happy with this situation. What worries me most is my mom, unlike me, doesn’t know her way around a gun. My dad has a sweet little .38 that she could shoot. It fits in the palm of his hand. Although I have to admit that I prefer a rifle with a dead on scope.... ahem, I mean, for deer hunting. *Straight face* Anyway, my dad and I were going to shoot yesterday but... my mom... talked a lot. Her friend also stopped by with her adorable poodle Precious. I’m normally not too crazy about poodles but Precious lives up to her name. She really was precious and I want one. I’m not getting one or the Chihuahua that I want... but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want one. Peeps... I’m exhausted and glad I’m taking off work early today for Nate’s doctor appointment. I made myself a watch band this weekend to go with a watch face I bought last week. The last time I was in Nashville I had purchased a couple of grams of light gray beads and they finally spoke to me. I beaded squares with a long open center to frame a clear 6mm round Swarovski crystal. The watch face is round silver colored with black/gold accents. Its very pretty. Thanks again for your kind words about my cats. They’ll always be mine, regardless.

Mini Meltdown

Brought to you by the letters "M" and "C" and the number "5." Today I let some of my family go. I took five of my cats to be placed for adoption. Nate and I agreed that we were just too saturated and for their health and well-being, we needed to thin the herd. Death has taken three kittens this week and the last one is barely hanging in. That would be Little Bit #1 - the seizure kitty. Of all my cats, the one I thought I would have the hardest time with was Morticia. She was always wanting love from me, especially when she was knocked up. It wasn't her that resisted though, it was her sister Natasha. She literally dug her claws in and gave me a confused look. I hated it but I know it was the right thing to do. I don't think they will have trouble finding new owners. The lady Mary, she's good at finding homes. I knew if they stayed here another day I couldn't have done it. At least T-Bird is good for something... when I told her I didn't think I could do it, she said, "Then we'll do it together," and she reminded me that they were my cats and therefore were tough and strong and would be okay. Sometimes, even the right thing to do, feels wrong. P.S. Go tell Lois Happy Birthday and you're sorry that Nanner didn't send her a gift.

An Air Of Mystery

I used to be a gusher. I was Tom Cruise and his-disgusting-display-of- gushiness-over- Katie-Holmes personified. Its great to be that “in” to someone. Love is fantastic and falling in love with someone is indeed a wonderful experience. This time ... I’ve pretty well kept my mouth shut. I haven’t even said a whole lot here. I attribute that to the lack of anxiety, no need to k’vetsh and k’vitsh about what a k’vatsh I had tangled myself up with. I’ve even surprised myself with my lack of gushing. Its much more fun to watch everyone around me try to pull it out of me. My boss is especially antsy to know the details which are slow in coming. I’ve only reassured him that I’m not suddenly going to pull anchor and move across the country. Although I have to admit the anchor is not quite as strong as it was two weeks ago and is slowly working itself free. Having had to out myself and il mio amore to my parents wasn’t nearly as traumatic as I had envisioned. Of course they haven’t gotten me face to face yet. Makes no difference really. I’m 34 years old, I think I can make sound, logical decisions for myself and Nate. Not that anyone in my family will for two seconds believe that selling my house and moving lock, stock, and barrel across the United States to a place that I only have one aunt (HA! Family... SEEE!!!) and blogger friends is in anyway responsible, sound, or logical. Nate is my enigma. I told him that I was searching for apartments etc. and I reminded him that its not set in stone and told him he would only be seeing his dad during summers/holidays, would that bother him? He answered my question with another question, as in, what about his sister? Couldn’t she and her mom move with us? It seems like he’s growing up so fast. He is loving summer camp!!! I am so glad I did this. I’ve never seen him happier and he’s got the little Indian glow. One of our kittens died (this was Ireland’s litter that I haven’t even mentioned before now) and he and I had already accepted that she wasn’t going to make it. Little Bit #4 was a very pretty calico and I buried her yesterday evening. The other kittens seem to be okay for now, but Nate held up Little Bit #1, the one that had the seizure, and said, “I think he’s next.” *Sad face* Nate is a Cancer child of Scorpio parents. Jeff and I both are very intuitive with deep emotions, and persistent and complex personalities. Nate is very persistent, and I can see the intuition waking up in him and he is very, very complex. Its Nate who grasped the idea of California and took off with it. I’ve mentioned moving to five or six states and as many countries in the past couple years and the only ones that Nate agreed whole-heartedly on were California and Egypt. Nate and I both have a fascination with the pyramids, pharaohs, King Tut, etc. Of course, we’ve traced back ancestors to Northern Africa but I believe everyone can trace back to Africa, and should whether you believe the Bible or Darwinism. There’s enough evidence to support it, not to mention the Fertile Crescent nearby. I just like the jewelry... of course. Anyway, its all nice to be effusive and overflowing like a volcano, but I’ve also realized that sometimes that’s all it is. That’s not to imply that this normally close-lipped star is not truly and wonderfully in love with Katie nor that their love is somehow tainted due to the uberblabbing they have done but I can guarantee, regardless of sofa jumps and hand pumps, Scientology and creepy new BFF’s named Jessica, Tom and Katie aren’t any happier than I am. They’re not any happier than any of you when you’re in love. Just because they can smile for the cameras and have their affections and lip-locks in every rag mag on this side of the Atlantic (the other side gets them next week), doesn’t make their love any more or less real than mine or yours. I’ve just learned to be a bit more quiet about it.

This and That

Troy has been a good sport about me pimping him out. I told him about all of your responses and he said he was getting the big head (NO, not THAT one, the one on top of his shoulders, geez... gutterminded peeps) and has promised more eye candy pics for you ladies. He also said if anyone would like to write I may freely pass out his snail and e-mail addresses. He then signed it, "Forever your bitch." Now, if that doesn’t show a sense of humor, nothing does. He was also... ummm... not real certain that anyone would write to him. Hmpf! Snail mail (and all soldiers love snail mail): Troy Hughes CJTF-76 OSJA APO AE 09354 TroyH@cjtf76.centcom.mil Let’s show Troy some blogger love. As a matter of fact, put that in the subject area: Blogger Love. That way he’ll know you heard about him here!!! Okay, back to me, since this blog is about me!! Now, I’ve got nothing to say... I tried blogging last night but it was just more bitching about T-Bird and to bitch more about it just makes me want to ... be violent. If I have to hear her know-it-all bullshit one more time I’m pouring boiling battery acid in my ears. T-Bird got a new job so this has precipitated the new attitude that she knows it all about it all. Gah!!! I mean... she is acting like she is an expert on every subject under the sun. She called me at work yesterday complaining because she tried to call and call and call and the phone wouldn’t go to voicemail etc. My phone is old so I went out and bought a new one yesterday. Needed one for the kitchen anyway... but that’s not the point. It turned out to be the phone line. Anyway... I went to the Office of Economic Options yesterday. If I want to have my jewelry juried and sold by them, it’s a 50% commission, which means, a pair of $35.00 earrings would go for $70. I don’t think that’s quite fair to the consumer. I did get other information on selling my stuff. Not quite what I thought it would be. Oh well. I’m looking now to continue to sell my stuff here and get enough inventory to sell it at a couple of fairs/festivals around here. We’ll see. Not much else going on. Well, there’s a lot going on in my head but not ready to be put on paper.

Update from Afghanistan

Troy has been great about sending out a weekly e-mail and sometimes daily photographs of Afghanistan and his place in it, namely, Bagram. Troy is my best good friend and I would like to remind all of you single ladies or anyone who has a single lady friend that he is a100% single, hardworking lawyer who has a taste for classical music and wine. Okay, enough of the personal ad. Here is Troy's weekly update... with photos. I have edited with paragraph indentations, which he doesn't appear to be fond of, and here is a bit of background from another e-mail regarding "Zulu," "local" and "EST." I have to explain the time thing. As I write this it is 2252 Zulu, 0222 local and 0652 EST. for some reason the Army runs on Zulu time which is 4.5 hours behind the local time and 4 hours ahead of EST. of course the AF runs on local time - making it very hard to know what time things are open here (and working at night makes it even worse) I work from 1530 Z to 0330 Z (8pm to 8am) which I think is 11:30am to 11:30 pm. Still trying to keep it all straight and sleep during the day. Ok enough - write me when you get a chance. Sunday June 12, 2005 10:02Z The run this morning went surprisingly well - I did 3 laps, with each lap faster than last. I was doing laundry in-between laps. It was nice and cool out - almost cold (I could see my breath) perfect for running. For the first lap I wore my new adiddas that arrived yesterday (thanks to the folks!) They still need to be broken in. On the I-Pod now is Phil Collin's "Easy Lover" classic 80s music (with Philip Bailey of Earth Wind and Fire) This week was sort of slow (of course slow is a relative term, slow for here is still pretty busy for the rest of the world) Army term for the week: "high speed" - everything that is good in the Army is "high speed" it has a positive connotation. If you are "high speed" this means you are squared away and going places. High Speed, Low Drag is the saying you hear. On the I-Pod now - Bui Doi, a haunting anthem from Miss Saigon - the name of the kids left behind by American GIs in Vietnam. One issue that I dealt with this week was the what were planning to do with the pile of hexavalent chromium that the Russians left behind. I'm not sure what it's a byproduct of but apparently its nasty stuff. When it came across my desk - in the form of the question could we pay X amount from our O&M funds to have it moved and capped, I thought it odd that they wanted to put the Chromium (the same stuff that Erin Brockovich beat up Pacific Gas & Electric for putting in the water) near our only running water on base - Coyote Creek - named after Task Force Coyote (the previous engineering group - now replaced by TF Sword - where they come up with these silly names I haven't a clue - other names: TF Griffin, TF Eagle, TF Bayonnet, TF Omaha, and TF Strength - respectively: rotary wing aviation, base operations, in charge of southern part of the country, the super secret group that can be mentioned no further, and Strength - I don't know what they do) Sorry for the digression - now playing Talking Heads, "Burning Down the House" - David Bryne is an interesting character - I recall seeing him in Central Park way back in 1991 - rained like hell, but he came out and played anyway. Ok, back to the Chromium - the creek runs into the town that borders the base to the north. The remediation plan just called for them to remove the chromium infested dirt I don't think infested is the right word there, but it will have to do - anyway, they would take the dirt and put it right next to the creek (the one place on base that is sort of nice - there are lots of butterflies over there) and then cap it with concrete. Thankfully I found an Executive Order that deals with what the government has to do in regard to following environmental statutes outside of the country. (Captain Planet to the rescue!) I-pod update: Beatles "All Together Now" from Yellow Submarine - damn, what the hell where they smoking when they wrote this? Lol And, it turns out that we were able to return the packet to the 7 for further review and an environmental review as to just what this chromium will do to the environment if we put it in that location. Watched the movie "Hitch" via a bootleg DVD of questionable quality - silly movie- a few funny parts, but formulaic and about 30 minutes too long. That's one thing I miss here - movies that actually won't make you stupider (or is it more stupid?) for watching them. A viewing of the offering at the shop outside the BX or should I say PX since this is an Army installation: "The Longest Yard" and "Sin City" - hopefully Jessica Alba will be able to bounce back after the disastrous "Honey" (I can't believe I wasted 90 minutes of my life on that) - actually I don't really give a crap about Ms. Alba's career, but she is nice to look at. Attended another "fallen comrade" ceremony yesterday - it's a really somber affair - we line up on Disney Drive and salute the flag draped casket as it drives to the plane for the trip back to Dover AFB. The previous day, we had followed how the soldier was killed almost in real time - its amazing the technology we have, and what we did to the AQAM who killed the soldier - damn, talk about overkill. (Al-Qaeda and Allied Militia in case you were wondering) Giant Voice just announced that there will be a controlled explosion in a few minutes - I guess the Mine Guys found something to blow up I really need to get a picture of them working - with their dogs - yep, they use dogs to help find mines, I saw a few teams of them this morning as I ran. I-Pod update - the Gigue from the Sixth Cello Suite by Bach - a really cool, uplifting piece of music - the final movement of the suite. The sixth is by far my favorite suite - the most complex - its hard to believe that its sometimes only one instrument playing - the Sarabande is for me at least, the most beautiful piece of music ever written. This Gigue is played by Janos Starker - not my favorite recording, but its what's on right now. Bought another bottle of wine this week - this one is a 1982 Pichon Lalande - this is a little of what Robert Parker had to say about it "It has been prodigious from its early days, and in bottle continues to be one of the most satisfying wines of this great vintage, both intellectually and hedonistically." Long live hedonism! Life is too damn short - this is the wine I will drink upon my return to the states. This is along the area that he runs every morning. Locals Hard at work on his birthday! Camels

LIVE TO FLY

Resilience That’s me, Mizz Resilience. Forget Nanner, forget da Peach, its Mizz Resilience to you. You’ll recognize that trait amongst others in Blogland... Tsarina, Trashman, Rita, Brighton... and many others. I learn more everyday by just being here, in the world, in the Blogosphere. I once described falling in love something like, "trying to negotiate a steep mountain after a downpour. You stealthily move from rock to root, grasping branches, scooting on your butt, until that one rock breaks away or that branch breaks in your hand and suddenly your sliding down the embankment, desperately clawing at the mud to stop your descend but instead you pitch ass over teakettle into a clump of thorns, torn and bleeding, with the air knocked out of you." This time, however, its so much more refined than a quick tumble down a West Virginia mountain. Its more like a chess game. Strategically positioning the pieces, thinking through the other’s reactions before making a move. This is how life changes us. This is how pain and hurt influence our decisions. I can’t really say "us," or "our" because I don’t own any part of that. This is so not who I am or ever have been. I don’t look before I leap. I don’t strategically position pieces. I don’t think about my past much anymore. I only think about the lessons I’ve learned. They are not the same. So what if I’ve fallen down that hill a few times. So what if I’ve come out torn up, bleeding, crying, weeping, devastated, lost, betrayed, poor, depressed, angry, disgusted, and hurt. GODDAMN THE HURT AND MAKE IT GO AWAY. And it did go away and I’m better and stronger because of it. There have been times I have been down on my knees in those thorns and I have wept thousands of tears. I have sobbed into my fists and I have hated and I have questioned, "why me?" or worse, "why not me?" Because then I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t be with you. I no longer look back and think, "what if?" and imagine something easy and happy and harmonious. If it was meant to exist it would have and it still would, but it doesn’t. If it did, I wouldn’t be here today. I’m not that person anymore and I guarantee, neither are they. And if they are, who the fuck wants someone who can’t grow or won’t? Twister may not be a profound movie but it does have a line that I repeat to myself sometimes. "Stop living in the past and look what you got right in front of you." Standing on that mountain, you just never know. The mountains are alive, they have their own histories, their own voice. Maybe I’ll get caught in the storm and fall ass over teakettle. Maybe I’ll just trip and fall on my face. Maybe I’ll lay on my back and watch the Earth move. But maybe... maybe when I smile to myself because I hear the wind talking to the trees, when the sun kisses me, and I stand at the top of the mountain because I am somebody, because I’m worthy, and I run. I run down that mountain with the wind chasing me and I see the point, where the sky meets the edge of the Earth, and I know this is it. Maybe the rock will crumble, maybe the branch will break, but maybe the wind will catch me and I’ll fly. That’s what I live for. No matter how often or how hard I fall down, no matter how much it hurts, I get up and I walk it off. Sometimes I got to walk a long way to get rid of the pain, but I do, because I don’t live for the pain, I live to fly. Fly with me.

Drive-By Blogging

* I’m meeting with the peeps about my jewelry on Tuesday. I’ll be working extra hard on some new projects. * My grass needs mowed. * A tornado touched down here yesterday uprooting several trees. We had strong winds and ten minutes of hard rain. The worst of it passed off to the northeast. The tornado touched down on the hill below the airport where Nate’s camp is. * I have to work overtime this weekend too. * I forgot Father’s Day is this weekend. * In that regard, I can’t get a break. If I’m not out "gallivanting around the country," (my dad’s words), then I have to appear at a function of some sort. Last time it was my family reunion. Good news is I can bead at my parent’s place. * Arlene is the first tropical storm of the season and surprisingly enough, its NOT heading for Florida. * I’m bored. * This day seems like its been a week already. Is it 5:00 yet??? * I took a shower this morning and thought about how its not as much fun by myself. * I find it funny that I couldn’t get Nate to school five blocks away by 8:10 most of the year but I can have him at camp 15 miles away by that time. * I have the "happiness bulge." It means since I’ve been happy with il mio amore I’ve gained weight. I asked him if he couldn’t just make me miserable for a bit. * I’m bored. * I should clean my office. * And my house. *And my car. * But that stuff is boring. * I want a nap but naps aren’t as much fun alone. * I need to write Troy a letter. His birthday was Monday. I will post some pics from Bagram, Afghanistan when I get the chance. * I’m gonna go get a snack. You guys want anything?

Sundries

Dropped little dude Nate at his summer camp this morning. He took off playing soccer with a little kid he didn’t know. I tried to tell him bye but he was already in Camp Zone or Zone Camp. I had Nate join the Y so I could get a discount on his camp. Sue me. Everyone does it and it was their idea. (Why don’t they just discount the freakin’ camp?) I’m saving boatloads of money by doing this. Yay!!! And, I actually like the facility and I’m thinking of joining myself. Me, moi, joining a gym? Hey, what was that sound? That sonic boom kinda sound... oh, never mind, it was just hell freezing over and cracking down the middle. Nate’s very proud of his YMCA membership card. He said, "Finally! A card with MY name on it." Yeah, I know how cute he is... ...but please, feel free to tell me again. He got all B’s and one C on his last nine weeks report card. His yearly average wasn’t great but.... its 3rd fucking grade and he passed to 4th grade. That’s all I asked of him. Grades C and above, pass to 4th. He did it. We’re going to Holiday World Labor Day weekend to celebrate. I’m hoping Jamie and her boys may be able to join us. Hell, you’re all invited!!! I’m tired and haven’t had the patience (for once) to bead. Anyone waiting on a finished product will have to wait just a bit longer. Not a whole lot longer, just a bit longer. Oh, speaking of beading. I ran into two ladies from the Center for Economic Development who are involved with the "Showcase WV" thingy for peeps like me. They want to help me get my business off the ground and show and sell my jewelry. How cool is that? I hope to have my room cleaned up this weekend so I can do some major work on finishing some projects. I’ve kicked around several ideas for a name for my business. I still haven’t made the final decision but in the running are: Peachworks, Beadle Juice, and Attention Deficit Designs (since I try not to make two things exactly alike and I’m so ADD). Feel free to vote. I got a beautiful card from Cybele with a photograph of her and the earrings I made and a super sweet note from Brighton via SNAIL MAIL. Peeps... send someone a snail mail note/card/letter today!!! It makes life so much better. Okay, I gotta nap. Oh, crap! I’m at work!! If I hide under the desk they’ll never know. Cheers!

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

Aaaahhhh... home again. Thanks for allowing me a few hours to sleep and spend with Nate before banging your silverware on the table demanding a post (ahem... T-Man). Oh, silly me, you didn’t know I was going anywhere. That’s because I didn’t have time to blog before I left, der her. I don’t know why you want me to post, I’m just going to bitch and brag. I’ll try to be humble, but it is me. I get upset, well, not upset, disgusted would probably be a better word, when someone tries to one up me and fails so miserably that it would feel so good to slam their face in it and twist the back of their head, making sure that humble pie embeds itself quite nicely in their nostrils, creases of their eyes, and their hair back to their ears. But I’m a nice person. (Shut up) Stress is defined as not beating the shit out of someone who truly deserves it. If you can bring me to the point I sneer, I’m pretty close to wanting to beat the shit out of you as well. I felt that way on Friday as my nemesis T-Bird was ferrying me to the airport. Oh pardon, I was ferrying myself to the airport and she came along to drive the gas out of my car, I’m sorry, I meant drive my car home and half-assedly watch my cats. (I don’t really care that "half-assedly" is not a word) Part of me wants to hurt her in a bad way. The other part of me loves her dearly. I think. Anyway, since she’s flown to *ahem* then she felt she could tell me all about traveling and security checkpoints and big, busy airports, as though I have no knowledge thereof. I guess she thought she could impress me by having flown through Chicago, or O’Hare (ORD) as the case may be. Out of the 20 busiest airports in the world, I have flown out of or through seven of them, including Atlanta-Hartsfield, which has surpassed O’Hare as the busiest airport by over 8 million flights. Guess had she known that then flying through O’Hare wouldn’t seem like such a big deal. Or rather trying to one up me by flying through O’Hare wouldn’t have seemed like the route to go. For the first time in a long time, I really just wanted to punch her, physically and verbally. And I still may do one or the other or both. I had to get my ammunition together first. Ammunition as in statistics. I’ve traveled a good bit in my 34 ½ years. I decided using my handy dandy photographic memory, air miles calculator, Mapquest, and common sense to do a preliminary assessment of the number of miles I have traveled in my lifetime. When doing the assessment I stuck to vacations, road trips, etc. Nothing I would ordinarily do, such as the 120 mile round trip to see my parents. So, here’s the numbers (approximated as accurately as possible): 36,037 - air 23,285 - car 2,122 - train 960 - bus 500 - bicycle 400 - foot 53 - boat 63,357 Total I know a lady who makes those numbers look laughable. She loves Thailand and goes back three or four times a year and then squeezes in a trip or two to other places, like Australia and European destinations not to mention traveling in the US. Comparatively speaking, I’m a light weight. When I hit 100,000... eh, maybe I’ll feel like I’ve been somewhere. However, if you’ve traveled considerably less than my two and a half times around the Earth (as in one cross-country flight), then you may want to reconsider telling me you can pack better than I can and what security checkpoints are like, delayed flights, cramped seating, nausea inducing, slamming into the door of the bathroom, drink bouncing off the table turbulence, knocking your head into the seat in front of you landings, electrical storm take offs...and please, please... don’t tell me about the red eye. Don’t tell me about sitting in your seat, the sciatic nerve in your right hip irritated, your sinuses throbbing, and the idiot behind you with the overhead light on the entire trip, while the flight attendants almost break your knee hurtling their crash cart down the aisle to serve a cup of water and a bag of pretzels. I’ve been there. I know you haven’t. (Not you, you know who I mean.) Not everyone can survive a subway fire in Paris, bounce their head off a brick wall in a bike wreck outside of Heidelberg, be sniffed by bomb dogs in Brussels, see both Statues of Liberty, the Lorelei, Notre Dame, and the Luftbruecke (and things that no longer exist - like East Germany and the Berlin Wall). Not everyone can eat gumbo and beignets in New Orleans, barbeque in Kansas City, Tex-Mex in Houston, and strip steak in New York. Not everyone can walk in the footsteps of mad kings, knights, and ladies, nor meet ambassadors and Senators. Not everyone can plan trips to Poland and the Czech Republic and other places in Europe. Not everyone can travel to 25 of these great United States and seven countries. Then again... if you want something bad enough and you know how to budget and split a penny four ways, anything is possible. Everyone around here wants to know... where are you getting all of this money to travel??? Maybe you’re wondering too. Well, I fucking work for it. That is the epitome of rudeness. To ask me where I’m getting my money to travel. I work for my money. My mom said, "You’re always telling me how poor you are...." Well mums, when I’m forking out $400 down payments for summer camp, I don’t guess I can complain about being poor, since it just so happens I was able to have three paychecks that month. Luck... luck has a lot to do with it. Work... hard work has a lot to do with it. But its more than that. It’s the desire. People can do incredible things when they’re passionate about something. I’m pretty passionate about living before I die. Death will find me, whether its on a plane or a train or in an automobile... sitting on my front porch in a rocking chair... or watching the sun rise over a volcano... where ever death finds me, I hope its tired from chasing me. So.... T-Bird wants all those things, but she wants them given to her. People, nothing is free, except peace of mind, and that’s negotiable. Work hard, be passionate, be frugal... live well. Hey, has anyone seen my tornado chasing brochure?

VOODOO QUEEN (Happy now, T-Man?)

Sometimes things happen and they aren’t easily explained.... Back more than a few years ago, my current Office Administrator’s husband worked for our law firm. This was before they moved their offices and I came to work here. Our OA, I’ll call her Dolores (Umbridge, that is), from HPOOTP (that’s Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, for you non-Potter peeps, which I just don’t get by the way.) Anyway, Dolores’ hubby, we’ll call him Filch, was the OA in the old days and he pissed off the accountant. Don’t know how or why but he did. Now, in normal places in the world, other than the Carribean and say, ohhh, New Orleans, if you made the accountant mad then they would screw you out of sick time or fuck up your paycheck, whatever. Here in the mountains (and the Carribean and New Orleans) there’s a different kind of justice. Voodoo. Or Hoodoo. Mountain Magik. That’s right, the accountant made a voodoo doll of Filch. I use the term "voodoo doll" relatively speaking. In white magik one would refer to a "voodoo doll" as a "charm." It takes on the negative connotation because of the misunderstanding of voodoo and hoodoo as a whole, personified by Hollywood and a killer book by Dean Koontz called "Darkfall." INTENSE. I digress. So, the accountant stuck pins in the voodoo doll in the upper left chest area. Within a relatively short period of time, Filch has a heart attack. Now, pick your chin up off o’ the floor because it gets better. In the world I operate in, there’s a little thing known as ‘karmic retribution’ or the ‘the law of three,’ which states anything you do will come back to you threefold, whether good or bad. After Filch is carted off for heart bypass etc., the accountant (who strangely enough, resembles the character Dolores Umbridge, i.e. toad looking) stays with the firm and as way gives to way, started on HRT’s (or hormone replacement therapy) as she hit menopause. Thereafter she’s diagnosed with breast cancer and she has a double mastectomy, chemotherapy, radiation, and then breast reconstructive surgery, which promptly causes a hernia, and then Christmas of 2002, she is diagnosed with a metastatic brain tumor which she also undergoes treatment for via surgical extraction and radiation, which then leeches all of the calcium from her teeth causing most of them to rot and she now has had several teeth extractions and has to be fitted for dentures. Don’t look at me like that. Some of you are shaking your heads in disbelief. Far -fetched isn’t it? First, that sticking pins in a voodoo doll can cause a heart attack (har har har har)... second, that the act of doing so would cause such a retaliation in another person (bwwhahahahhahahaaha). Magick, as defined by Crowley, is the Science and Art of causing Change to occur in conformity with Will. Which goes back to my quantum physics post. Magick? Coincidence? Retribution? Bad Luck? Its worth pondering... or at least being careful what you do to your voodoo dolls... or blow up dolls. I posted a picture of my miniatures on my photoblog. Its not a great picture and I can’t get Picasa to save the sharpening changes. Schtupid Picasa.

Hump Day

Prophecy This morning I was skimming radio stations as I sat in traffic. It never fails that when I have the opportunity to get to work early some dipshit, or in this case, four dipshits, decided to crash their vehicles in my lane of travel. I heard "Sherry" by Steve Perry on one station, "Angie" by the Rolling Stones on another and that reminded me that I heard "Amie" by Pure Prairie League while Nate and I were eating dinner last night. I wonder if Vince Gill knew when he sang "Amie" that he would indeed marry an Amy. In celebration I played, "My Michelle" on the way in the parking garage since G ‘N’ R echoes so nicely especially when I’m behind someone who is actually going the speed limit of FIVE MILES PER HOUR!!! This reminded me of a guy I dated very briefly. I’m ashamed to say I don’t remember his name. I can see his face though. I am redeemed. The guy was a writer and musician, something along the lines of Violent Femmes or, I don’t know, he was eclectic okay? He wrote a song about me. It was a strange little song, which was fitting. I want to think it had something about me being hit by a car and landing in a tulip field, maybe it was a poppy field.... heh. So, out there somewhere is a song about me. Rock on dudes! T-Bird *Sigh* T-Bird finally got a job at a local grocery food chain (BASTARDKROGERS). So, that was good. She goes into work Monday and then calls me as I was in my cathartic-I’m-in-the-sun-hanging-clothes-life-is-good state of mind. She asks something about me and then says, "When did I become such a pussbag?" She starts crying. She tells me she had been called into work early and she was discussing which register to work with a gentleman and he said, "Register nine," and she says, "I can’t work that register." To clarify, there is something wrong with the counter on register nine and its hard for her to work there because she’s so short (she says 5'2" on a good day... pfffffffft!) Anyway, the guy looks at her and says, "What? You’re not that fat are you?" Har har har har... uh huh. T-Bird, who has a temper like a Tasmanian Devil, a one millimeter fuse, and a mouth the size of the Grand Canyon, you might as well throw a match on a trail of gas-o-line cuz she’s gonna blow. Okay, the old T-Bird. The new and improved T-Bird turned tail and walked out the door. She was so mad and hurt that she was afraid of what she would say and what she would do if she stayed. She talked to a supervisor who told her to take the day off, yada, yada, blah, blah, come back tomorrow, he’ll need to apologize, blah, blah. T-Bird thought that was bullshit since it wasn’t even a punishment but she decided to just bite her tongue until she could find other employment (she had an interview for a much, much better job - $10.00 an hour vs. $5.50 an hour - yesterday), but, BASTARDKROGERS decided that, "they were going to let her go." Why doesn’t Blogger have emoticons? That just stinks. I’m proud of her for not killing him but more importantly, I’m proud because she has enough pride now to admit when something hurts her feelings instead of laughing it off. Mean people suck donkey balls. Don't be a mean donkey ball sucking person.