Sure To Piss Someone Off

Kitties As feared, kitten number three was dead when I got home last night. It was the other tabby, so we are now down to two. Nate has named the grey one, MJ, for Mongoya Jr., although they do not resemble one another at all. The other one has yet to be named. For now, its just "the tabby." Job Front I’m still applying for jobs. I applied for one at the Fed. Pub. Defender’s office as a legal secretary. I would love to have that job. It doesn’t close until the 19th, which is certainly a long time to wait but I hope it will be worth it. Additionally, one of the lawyers here is putting in a good word for me. Palace Revolt The Newsweek article that been buzzed about on and off blogs. I’m deeply concerned about this article and if the allegations set forth within are true, we have a problem. I’m not an idiot. I understand that we are at war. Yet, the notion that simply because we are at war means the Constitution doesn’t matter, nor the Geneva Convention, and we can simply re-write the basis of our country to fit the needs of a few is dangerous. If you believe that a president should be given "near-total authority over the prosecution of suspected terrorists" and as Mr. Yoo believes "that power is for the president to use as he sees fit in a time of war," then I strongly urge you to read the meaning of "representative democracy," "republic," "oligarchy," and especially "totalitarian dictatorship." See, we believe that because we’re citizens of the United States of America that it can’t happen here. You know, we can’t be taken over. Tell that to Chile, whose elected government was overtaken by Pinochet in 1973. We’re a democracy, it can’t happen here. Really? When you move the power from the people, or in the case of America, from the people elected to represent the people, to the hands of few or one, you are breaking down the democracy and heading into dangerous, dangerous territory. I’m talking Hitler/Mussolini territory. I understand that as our world changes, as the threats to our lives change, so must we. But there must also be a point where someone says, "STOP!" There must be a point where we tell our government it must stop infringing upon the rights of its citizens, it must stop infringing upon the rights guaranteed under International Law, it must stop setting a bad example. There must be a line drawn between national security and citizen’s rights, otherwise, we are not America and we have not learned from our mistakes and the mistakes of other countries. Our government is supposed to be a series of checks and balances. Where are they? They’re being circumvented, they’re being ignored, they’re being "justified . . . by invoking a post-9/11 congressional resolution authorizing the use of force against global terror." (How is eavesdropping considered "use of force?") Read the article. Draw your own conclusions. Just don’t think it can’t happen here.

Dear . . .

It was lovely chatting with you last night. As promised, when I went to take my shower, I fantasized about you. I could feel my muscles relaxing as the hot water washed over me, and I imagined it was your hands. So yes, as I stood in the shower, sans pulsating shower head (or any head for that matter), I thought of you. But see, there’s this hole in my shower curtain. Really, it’s a rip. I’m not sure how it happened but everyday it seems to grow larger and while it still keeps the water in, it affords little privacy. So, whilst imagining all the dirty things we could do in that shower (and lucky my hands were merely smoothing the suds from my freshly washed hair) . . . A knife fashioned from styrofoam is thrust through the rip in the curtain and I hear a version of the "Pyscho" shower scene music. Then, the gleeful cackling of a nine year old. I’m kinda glad you weren’t there. We really have no shame. Of course, once I stopped laughing, it had sort of killed the mood. Maybe next time. Nanner

And Then There Were Three

Well, we’ve lost the black kitten and the black/white kitten (sorry Cybele). I was pretty sure the black one wasn’t going to make it anyway. It never did breath right after birth and it was weak. As for the black/white, not sure. She may have lain on it, but like the black one, it wasn’t as strong as the others. One of the tabbies is not looking so good either. The grey one and the other tabby are stronger, heavier, and move around more, oh yeah, and squawk more when you pick them up. Lola has allowed herself to be petted more now than she has her entire life. She was born April 6, 2004, so that’s a long time. I don’t expect the other tabby to make it. Lola’s brother was Mongoya, or Goya and was her polar opposite. I blogged about Goya here. Nate named Ireland and Mongoya because he was studying foreign countries in Geography. Mongoya was supposed to be Mongolia. Ha! I’m looking forward to getting a new job for several reasons but one specifically is I’ll have enough money to get Ireland and Lola fixed. Then all my cats will be fixed up, no more kittens to mourn. Frankly, I’ve been looking ahead to my future quite a bit. I mean, long-term future. No matter how much I love Nate, I know he’s growing up and before I know it, he’ll be going to college. I want him to be able to go anywhere he wants regardless of price or distance. As for me, I want to start traveling again, even with Nate and sat down to make a list of fascinating places I want to visit. I get my ideas from the Travel Channel, especially "Haunted Places." I want to visit Arizona, New Mexico, Montana, Colorado, and several other places I’ve already been, plus the Northeast (Mass., Maine etc.) And of course the foreign travels, Tibet, China, England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, Italy, Poland, Czech Republic, and other Slavik realms. I also told T-Bird last night, any place that puts me as far away from Jeff as possible. I was reading a true crime novel last night and the killer reminded me so much of Jeff it was frightening (Malignant Narcissistic Personality). He’s not as bad as that guy but was close enough to make me extremely wary. Not that I wasn’t already. Trust me. Although its a ways in the future and I still have everyday things to think about, its worth making plans for.

Why Am I Not Surprised...

Remember that black cat that crossed my path this morning? Lola decided that today would be a good day to add more. Baby Number 1 - Michael (or Michaela), named after my German brother whose birthday is today! Number two is on its way very soon!

That's What You Call Ironic

Yesterday was a very frustrating day. First, I got Nate out the door in plenty of time for school, even arriving a bit early. Check. Traffic was light and moving despite snowy skies. Check. Arrive at parking garage at 8:30 on the nose. Check. Wait. I FORGOT T-BIRD!!! Holy shit!! Holy shit and shinola!! PANIC! PANIC!! Run to the office, attempt to call, get her ex at his job, no way to reach her, run back to car, drive back within a mile of home, pick-up seething T-Bird, break sound barrier on way to her job about a mile from mine. T-Bird works for an old high school classmate of mine who personifies the word "bitch." Go on, go look in your dictionaries, because her picture will be right there. She makes T-Bird and I look, well, relatively docile. Frightening, isn’t it? I drive back to the parking garage, park, get out, immediately have to walk to my job interview. It is snowing huge flakes and although its only a few blocks, I’m pretty wet by the time I get there because, naturally, I couldn’t find my umbrella. After testing and discussions, I get back to the office at 11:45. Receive phone call from Jeff saying Nate’s sister’s mom has been in a car accident and is going to same hospital T-Bird works at. Call T-Bird, pass word. (She’s okay, just banged up.) Receive phone call from school at about 1:30 letting me know Nate is tired and had a bad afternoon. Of course he’s tired, he’s sleep schedule is off! Duh! Leave at 2:30 to pick up Nate from school. Bridges and overpasses are snow covered and slick. Ugh. Drop Nate off, have to look at Jeff. They leave to pick up Danlel, Nate’s sister. (That’s my nickname for her.) Go back to work. Leave work, go to pick up T-Bird. Forget she works until 5:30, circle, circle, circle, circle. . . see someone leave a parking spot, get cut off, circle, circle, circle, circle . . . no way to call Jeff and tell him I’ll be late. Finally get parking spot, go in, get T-Bird, leave. Get to Jeff’s. He wants to know what’s wrong. Frustrating day, just want to go home. Offers to keep Nate, which I decline. Nate and I go home. We spend evening together, Nate does his homework without much fuss. Does a good job. We go to bed early. Phone rings. Jeff. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, circle, circle, circle . . . Wake up, repeat but remember to pick-up T-Bird. Rehash previous day. As we’re driving down the road, a black cat crosses our path. We snort and laugh and say "fuck" a lot. Its going to be a good day.

Loop Da Loop

Nate had a sleep deprived EEG this morning. *Yawn* I’m still recovering. I did get a call about a resume I submitted. Trouble is, if you are delinquent on anything on your credit report, you get automatically vetoed. I almost choked myself not laughing at that one. The lady still encouraged me to check my report and see what I could fix relatively easy. Ha. Yeah. I have an interview tomorrow morning with a local temp agency a friend of mine works for. We’ll see how that goes. I knew I was in serious trouble this morning following Nate’s test when I started having romantic feelings toward his neurologist, just by hearing his voice through the door. One should not make important romantic decisions while under the influence of drugs, alcohol, emotional distress, or sleep deprivation. I got paid today and I’m broke. I hate it when that happens.

Pah-thetic

Okay, Hoss brought up a good point in my comments on "Unrequited Response." Basically stating that he trusted me and therefore was believing what I wrote. That takes us all back to we chose what we write and not always what we write may be the whole truth, if there is such a thing. I did write a huge back story to my relationship with Jeff. That can summed up by responding to Julie’s comment following, "Unrequited." Its something we’ve all probably said or thought at a time - There must have been something that drew you too him, so he couldn’t have been that bad. I’m not sure that gives him or me or both of us the benefit of the doubt. The truth is, there was something that drew me to him. He was an alcoholic and as a co-dependent, I was the moth, he was the flame. Did Jeff truly have any redeeming qualities once I truly got to know him? No. Did I stay with him anyway? Yes. Why? Because I was as sick in the head as he is. That’s just the truth. I take that back. He did have a redeeming quality. He was a good policeman. I rode with the PD for 16 weeks, with a multitude of policeman, younger and older, male and female, and hands down, Jeff was just a better policeman. First, he actually worked. Second, he was very intuitive. He had that bad guy sixth sense that made he ask the right questions, pull the right people over, search the right areas etc. I don’t know how else to explain it. So, yeah, he had a redeeming quality. I don’t struggle as much with co-dependency as I used to, but that doesn’t mean that I’m "cured." I have to remain vigilant and do inventory just like an alcoholic. Allowing myself to slip back into old habits is like an alcoholic saying, "Just one drink." Jeff has been calling me and calling me and calling me. He’s been calling me because his girlfriend dumped him so now he wants to know why we broke up, and flatter me with words which are as hollow as that dead tree in my yard and try like hell to show he’s this deep, philosophical thinker, and wonders why I’ve never married, and why I’m not happy. What? Who the fuck said I’m not happy? Once again, having to explain, that unlike HIM, I’m perfectly happy being by MYSELF!! See, he wants me to believe that I’m unhappy and he wants me to believe that I really DO NEED someone in my life (him). News flash. No, I don’t. He can’t fathom that. He cannot fathom that I go for MONTHS without a partner. Hell, I’ve gone YEARS. He cannot fathom that my life is really okay, without the benefit of a partner or marriage or a live-in. Sure, I’d like to have a different job, and sell more beadwork, and have something published I’ve written, but overall, I’m happy. I’m happy because I continue to move forward with my goals. Having a fulfilling relationship is icing, not the fucking cake. And no, there’s no point in trying to tell him anything. Why? Because I’m not responsible for him or his feelings. You can’t change people, they have to want to change. Change comes from within. Demons must be wrestled, truths must be faced, fearless inventory must be undertaken, the Higher Power must be called upon. And I'm not responsible for making sure he gets there. I'm not even getting close to that slippery slope.

Tally Ho

Thanks for all of your comments on the last post. I’ve written more back story but. . . I’d rather move on the time being. To beading, of course. I got the opportunity to work with my new Aiko beads. I’m actually not entirely crazy about them. Uniformity - top notch, but they are just a wee bit bigger than my Delicas and that does, for some reason, bothers me. However, decide for yourself. At first I named this piece "Lava," then I wasn’t sure it really exemplified the work. It wasn’t until I was taking photographs of it that I determined the perfect name for it. This full view shows the Swarovski crystals I used in the chain. A close-up of the amulet bag. And, the photo from whence its name came . . . PHOENIX

Unrequited Response

*NOTE* I wanted to ask for prayers for the two WV miners at the Mellville - Alma 1 mine. Can you imagine with Sago so fresh in our minds what those 21 miners (the two who are missing and the 19 who escaped) thought as the fire broke out? Let's hope we have a better outcome and our miners come home safe. ******** From my letter to AZ dated January 19, 2006: He’s really lucky, ya know? He asked for answers, I gave him answers. He dug around and stirred up shit that was better left alone. He dug up shit I had left in the past where it belonged. I don’t remember the good, I don’t dwell on the bad, it was what it was, it is what it is. As you and I discussed, I wouldn’t change it. Change one thing, you risk changing it all, not knowing whether the change would be for the better. It doesn’t mean I want to rehash it or remember it or even accept the crushing weight of someone else’s love on my shoulders. When I searched the far reaches of what I refer to as "my heart," which is not really the pulsing organ in the center of our chest that pumps blood, but something beyond physical, I found, just nothing. Nothing. Not love, not hate, not disappointment, just nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. ******* I lied. I resent anyone who digs around in my pain. Making me remember it, making me relive it, serves no purpose TO ME at this point. I lived it. I dealt with it. I left it. Maybe he needed closure, maybe he needed answers, maybe he needed to say what he said, but it means nothing. Sometimes, you must go on without answers. I’m well aware of the situation we were in. I lived it too. He still looks at it so very black and white. White in his corner. "What if you had everything you ever wanted right in the palm of your hand, would you leave Nate for it?" That says it all right there. No, you dumb shit. But that’s black and white. Only someone with your mentality would believe you have to make such sacrifices in this day and age. Did your wife leaving 17 months after Nate was born take away your daughter? No, it didn’t. You chose to stay out of her life, just like you chose to stay out of Nate’s. See, its always been an option, A FUCKING OPTION, whether or not YOU want to stick around yet you turn it around and blame it on everything and everyone else. I don’t care how much you whine and fucking cry asshole, you and your ex-wife separated no less than 15 times between the time we met and the time Nate was born. I KNOW, KNOW that you turned down opportunities to spend time with your daughter and then you whined about how she might be taken away from you. What the fuck ever. Be careful where you stir your shit. Be careful what you want to know. It may be worth it to you. It may not be worth to the person listening to the same bullshit they’ve heard before. It may not be worth it to them to have to re-open old wounds. It may not be worth it to them to feel compelled to tell you how much you hurt them. Not everyone delights in bringing up old hurts and suffocating other people with them. Not everyone wants to go through that, just to hear, "I can’t change it," and then the excuses that trip all over themselves. Well, that’s fucking obvious dickweed. I didn’t ask for him to apologize to me for what happened. I’ve never held his feet to the fire and felt I was entitled to it. It happened. We both did and said things we shouldn’t have. I let him go. I let it go. He won’t. I’m tired of shit I did anywhere from 10 years ago to 10 days ago being thrown in my face. Rehashed and hashed and hashed and hashed. I’m so tired of it. I don’t have to have these conversations anymore. That’s right. I don’t have to. Once it moved from Nate to our old relationship, I should have shut the door on it. It turns into the same shit every time. Next time, I’m shutting the door.

Unrequited

"I still love you," he said, "You changed something in me the day you ran your foot up my leg, the first time I saw you, the first time I talked to you even." He goes on and on. "I know I wasn’t there when Nate was born. I know I called you and told you I wished you would have that damn baby so you would stop bitching. . ." I’m sitting on the floor of my old trailer, talking to my sister, when the phone beeps and I click over. Its Jeff. Before long, I am in tears and he tells me, "I just wish you’d have that damn baby!" I answer, "You’re about to get your wish." "Why?" He asks. "Because I’m in labor. Are you going to be there?" "I don’t know." "And you go to the hospital alone and I’m not there." Twenty-one and a half hours later, T-Bird is with me, my kneecaps are kissing my ears, and I realize I’ve put him out of my mind. It no longer matters whether he is there or not, it only matters that my son is being born and he’s crying and healthy. Ten hours later, something wakes me. Jeff is there, holding Nate for the first time. "I know you think I wasn’t there. I know you think I wasn’t really a father to Nate after he was born, but I was still his father. You talked about walking up and down the hill because Nate wouldn’t stop crying and I wasn’t there to help you." Nate has been crying for hours it seems and he won’t stop. My breasts are flat he has nursed so much. Jeff is in Baltimore on vacation. Our conversation is less than two minutes. I’m exhausted and still weak from hemorrhaging and Nate won’t stop crying. I had read somewhere that sometimes a change of scenery will soothe them. My stitches haven’t completely dissolved but I pick him up and we go outside and I walk him up and down the hill. He stops crying and he’s curious to the big world around him. I go as far as I can until I have to go back. When we get to the door, he starts crying again, but I have to sit down. So we cry together. "I don’t understand why you left me." Every moment from our relationship fast-forwards through my mind. "You want to know? I’ll tell you. I never felt safe or secure with you. I loved you so much, but you played with that emotion. Anytime I did start feeling safe, you jerked the rug out from underneath me. If I did anything you didn’t like, you told me you couldn’t or wouldn’t love me anymore, you wouldn’t see me anymore. You kept me off-balance and anxious. You did the same thing to me that you did to Nate by saying, "I don’t know if I want to be your dad anymore." You’re not doing that to Nate. You did it to me, you turned your back on me, you manipulated me through my love for you. Your love was not just conditional, it was controlling. What happened between us, well it happened and no, neither of us can back it up, neither of us can change it, and I wouldn’t even if I could, but you’re not treating Nate like you treated me. You’re not going to keep him off-balance and anxious." "You know I would never abandon Nate. I would never stop being his Dad." "But does he know that, Jeff?" Does he know it in his heart? Is he secure that you will love him no matter what? "I’m totally sober and I just went on about how I feel about you." I look inside, searching and seeking, digging, and find nothing. *Silence*

Apropos of Pluto

Did you see the US is launching a new probe, New Horizons, to Pluto? Its going to take 10 years to make the 3 billion mile trip. I read it here. And may I add, that is, if they launch on time, nothing goes wrong, and the something about Jupiter slings it forward, otherwise, it could take an additional five years. I have to say, I am fascinated by the Spirit and Opportunity rovers on Mars, Cassini orbiting Saturn, and even Deep Impact. You can find commentary, photos, and links here and here. So, without mirth, I say, I find it fascinating and frankly am torn between wanting to know what is out there, and saying, let’s fix what we got first. I didn’t really mean to turn this into a week about cold things, like, Pluto and the Kuiper Belt and Jeff’s heart, it just turned out that way. Nate is back home and I got my beads today. I was a bit disappointed with the amount of beads I got, having forgotten in the realm of Kelvin, Fahrenheit, and Celsius, how little 5 grams is. Damn metric system! I’m in a fairly comedic mood, hence my comedic take on the temperature of Pluto yesterday. I applied for a job writing funny greeting cards and I had the first part of the post saved on a WP document and saw it and took off with it. I’ve realized I have about four versions of my novella floating around with different portions done on different ones so now I must read and decide which version I like better and merge it with the master copy. At least get all of the parts I marked and have written pasted onto the master. If you would like to be one of my readers, that means, when it’s done I send you a hard copy and then you mark it up and tell me what sucks and what works and what you love, and then you send it back. As Cybele said, some people are looking for a pat on the back but what I really want is a critique. Used the wrong version of "there?" Tell me. Something doesn’t make sense, tell me. One section sucks totally and should be taken out or revamped, I wanna know. The novella is a fantasy/medieval/erotica piece so there is hot, hot sex. So, e-mail me or let me know in the comments you would like to read it. Also, I can send it via RTF if you prefer to receive it electronically. That’s all for today. Many moons to ya’ll.

Beam Me Up Scotty

I was reading this the other day since I really like astronomy and astrology: Astronomers: Pluto colder than expected Using the Submillimeter Array, or SMA, a network of radio telescopes located in Hawaii, astronomers found that Pluto's average surface temperature was about 43 Kelvin (-382 degrees Fahrenheit) instead of the expected 53 Kelvin (-364 degrees Fahrenheit), which is what the temperature of Pluto's largest moon, Charon, is. Now, I don’t about ya’ll, but to me, it makes not one damn difference if Pluto is 43 K or 53 K... both mean absolute certain death the moment you step out of your little spacecraft. Let’s face it, Antarctica, at a mere -129 F has nothing on Pluto. So, we just spent, approximately, counting the cost to rotate the radio telescopes, when no other planets or a rogue meteor were in the way, 20 scientists who look like they haven’t seen the light of day for 30 years, under heavy homeland security, and a pastrami on rye sammich, a million dollars to learn Pluto, at a mean distance of 3.67 BILLION MILES FROM THE SUN, A PLANET THAT TAKES 248 EARTH YEARS TO ORBIT, IS COLD. Damn people, next time, ask me, I’ll tell ya for free. Pluto, hell yeah, that bitch is cold! She’s so cold they should name her Hilary! Now, in comparison, the Earth, our fair planet, just in case you’re an alien and didn’t realize where you’d stopped off, is one AU from the sun, that means we’re special. An AU is an Astronomical Unit which is the mean distance of the sun to the Earth, which is approximately 93 million miles. Now, IF it can be -129 F on the Earth and we’re close enough to get a sunburn, common sense should tell ya, anything a couple of AU BEYOND the Earth is going to start getting a little frigid. Except for that asshole Jupiter, who has some type of internal heating system, similar to dogs, small children, and Trashman, not to mention, noxious, poisonous gases, like dogs, small children, and, well, Trashman. I admire those who seek knowledge. I admire astronauts and scientists for their dedication to getting us off of this planet should, you know, that big rogue meteor strike one day, and Ben Affleck is too busy making babies with Jennifer Garner, and Bruce Willis is lost in Idaho somewhere and can’t save us by drilling a hole in that big rogue meteor and putting an atom bomb in it and blowing it up and the pieces miraculously missing Earth and not disrupting the atmosphere and all that. But let’s face it, we ain’t goin’ to Pluto, hell, we’ll be lucky if we make it halfway off the mountain. And I figure I could find a better use for those big radio telescopes than measuring the temperature on Pluto. Hell, if they’re that sophisticated they could at least find one old fucker in a turban named Osama bin Laden. Right?

From The . . .

You've Got to Be Kidding Me and Drunk Dialing Files: Nate did much better in school last week, aside from lying about an assignment on Friday. This lying sent Jeff into a tailspin and he’s thinking over whether he still wants to be Nate’s dad. He feels as though he’s put so much time and effort into Nate that he should be seeing a better reward. Welcome to life. I’m not proud of Nate nor do I uphold the fact that he lied. However, I guess Jeff also doesn’t see the progress that Nate has made nor does he understand that childhood and learning is a process not a destination. "Rewards" with Nate are hard to come by. He’s a "one step forward, two steps back," kinda kid. I don’t know what will happen on Wednesday when Nate goes back to school. I’m not sure what Jeff is going to do or not do. I told him I didn’t think him dropping out of Nate’s life and "giving up" on him is the thing to do. Then again, what do I know? I’ve gone through this with Nate since he was born. Certainly is tough to come into it after so many years and not be able to see the progress that Nate has made. Jeff talked about everything he’s done for Nate - going to the school, meetings, etc., etc., and how Nate is disrespecting and not grateful for the things that he has done. Welcome to parenthood. Should Nate be grateful? I believe he should be. But Jeff should also realize, this is all a part of being a parent, and the gratefulness normally comes later. He expected Nate to make this miraculous turn around, immediately, and when it didn’t happen, he’s pissed he put so much time and effort into it and is not reaping a "reward." So, there ya go. In happier news, my long lost friend Joe, drunk-dialed me last night. My caller ID says it was 2:20 when he rang me up. I know it was about 4:30 when we got off the phone. I know I gave him the URL to my blog, but I’m not all entirely sure he was lucid enough to write it down properly. He said he was a little unsure about calling me since he wasn’t sure who would answer the phone or who I would be in bed with. Awwwww ... ha! Also since we haven’t spoken in five years, was worried I would be pissed that I hadn’t heard from him sooner. Phooey! I was thrilled to hear from him. It also meant that I didn’t have to hear the accusatory sound of his mother’s voice when I called to ask for HIS number, which I’ve contemplated doing numerous times. Hahahahaha! We got a big laugh out of that. We also decided that we would start dating and not contact one another again until May so as not to screw up in the first five months of the relationship. Hahahahhahhaha!!! That’s a joke, okay? I guess you just have to know us. Joe is one of the best poets I’ve ever read. He has a style all his own and while it makes you laugh, it makes you laugh either out loud or you laugh until you get the real just of it and then you’re uncomfortable with his no-holds-barred view on people, society, and pretentiousness, especially when you see yourself in it. Truly, he can write me under the table. I’m not sure he can drink me under the table but he certainly can write me under one. Joe, if you read this, thanks for calling. I missed you.

Hodgly Podgly

I’m uninspired today. I am bowing to my audience in an attempt not to bore the hell out of you today. I doubt I’ll succeed. I’m sending Chrysalis in to the magazine of choice after just a few more tweaks. I may also enter it into the WV Writers competition. The same with Sermonus Interruptus. Do you remember that one? The one about me interrupting the sermon at my grandparent’s church? Problem is, the rules say I can’t submit anything that has been published on website that has more than a 1,000 viewers annually. Does that count if I re-write it? I suppose I should try and take out some of the cuss words, but I thought of entering it in the comic section. If you haven’t read it, I’m sorry. I took it down because back then I didn’t have the readership I do now. Not that I believe in any way that 1,000 people read that piece of fine literature, nor did 1,000 people read Chrysalis, nor do 1,000 individual people read this blog. Puh-leeze. Not even over a year. I haven’t heard from AZ in like, forever. Forever being the week before Christmas. Why haven’t I called him? Cuz I’m a wuss. I’m afraid I pissed him off and I don’t want to deal with it. Its better to ignore the fact we were speaking more than once a week and then suddenly, oh well, we’re not talking. *Shrug* It’ll come back around. Applied for another job today. Whoo. Hoo. No kittens, just one bulging, bulbous cat. Nate enjoyed his first ‘real’ karate lesson yesterday. He actually called Jeff this morning to tell him what a great day and week he was having instead of the normal, "I’m in so much trouble." Nice of the bitc... I mean, ummmm, teacher to let him do that. Why do people in extremely large, long vehicles park in the corner spot in the parking garage? Do they not realize that any vehicle coming around the blind corner has to then swing wide into the oncoming lane? What the fuck! I hate that. I hate it and I hate them. Who the fuck, even in WV, needs a truck the size of Sherman fucking tank? And why are they so fucking rude as to literally put everyone else in danger as they back their monstrosity into a parking space leaving a foot of space between their precious fucking bumper and the wall, which makes their over-large, sorry your dick is small, super king cab, stick three feet out further than any other vehicle? I don’t care if they do it in the middle but why on the end? Why where everyone, ANYONE, who comes into the garage is put in the position of being met head-on by another stupid fucking person in an SUV that will never see any off-road action? Total and utter bullshit. It should hurt to be stupid. I’m done bitching. Happy now?

Waxing and Questioning

I’ve been re-writing my blog missive "Chrysalis" for submission. I expanded it and waxed poetic a bit more. I trust the Goddess to guide me toward the right path. I find when I try to control everything it ends up going to shit eventually. While I don’t expect the Goddess to provide for my every whim and desire, I expect if I’m helping myself then I’ll receive some divine direction. Yet, sometimes, you just have to give it over and find some peace instead of banging your head against the wall. The Goddess directed me yesterday to Bobby Bead. Bobby Bead sells Aiko beads. I know this doesn’t mean much to most of you, but to me, its like . . . bead orgasm. Aikos are the newest in bead technology, made specifically by the highly precise Japanese for bead weaving. Even Delicas, the obscenely expensive beads I use now, are said not to have the fine quality of the Aikos. They claim the Aikos are sooo precise, you have 100% bead retention, meaning, you don’t have to toss any Aikos because a bead is a bit lopsided, shorter, or taller than the other beads. The colors I ordered were: Sapphire transparent, dark ruby transparent, and light amethyst transparent for a new amulet bag I’m making in this pattern. I also purchased dark hyacinth transparent (which is a color similar to tangerine), dark garnet transparent, and hyacinth transparent, which will also be used with the dark ruby transparent and some blues I have to make another Russian sunflower. Although they say the Aikos and Delicas are not interchangeable, that’s okay since you can use two different size beads with the Russian leaves. Last night, Nate and I slogged through 166 pages of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone to complete it. That little man is sharp, lemme tell ya. I quiz him as we go along and then quiz him again with details, big and little. Such as: 1. Who tells Harry he’s a wizard? 2. What does Dumbledore use to put out the street lights? 3. Who is the only person who can control Peeves? 4. Name the Gryffindor Ghost. 5. How do the first years get to Hogwarts from the train station? 6. What does Hagrid buy Harry for his birthday? 7. Which student does Harry meet in Diagon Alley? 8. What’s the name of the pub that leads to Diagon Alley? 9. Who helps Harry get to Platform 9 3/4? 10. What is the name of Neville’s toad? 11. What does Neville’s grandmother send him? 12. What type of broom does Harry have? 13. How many players on a Quidditch team? 14. Name the teachers for the following subjects: Transfiguration, History of Magic, Charms, Herbology, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. 15. What type of dragon does Hagrid have? 16. What is its name? 17. What is the name of the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain? 18. Name the three centaurs Harry meets in the Forbidden Forest. 19. What is the first challenge to retrieve the Sorcerer’s Stone? 20. The second? 21. The third? 22. The fourth? 23. The fifth? 24. The sixth? 25. The seventh? 26. How do you read the inscription around the Mirror of Erised? 27. What happens if you drink unicorn blood? 28. What did Hagrid feed his dragon after it was born? 29. Where does Harry discover the information they were looking for about Nicolas Flamel? 30. Who gave Harry the invisibility cloak? 31. What does Hagrid use as a wand? 32. What flavor of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Bean did Dumbledore eat while visiting Harry in the hospital wing? 33. Where or from who does Harry purchase his school books? 34. His robes? 35. His wand? 36. What book does Hermione loan him before his first Quidditch match? 37. What is the name of the Hogwart’s Librarian? 38. Who teaches them to fly on broomsticks? 39. Who commentates the Quidditch matches? 40. Name the positions on a Quidditch team. Now, ya'll have fun with that!

Gi's and Hawks

The Nate Dawg started karate yesterday. He is very enthusiastic and the gentleman who owns the dojo he’s going to has worked with kids like Nate for almost 40 years. I’ve been acquainted with Master Jarrett since I was in Junior High. His son made the National Karate Team and represented the US in the Pan American Games. Nate looks so cute in his gi. And, like I said, he’s VERY ENTHUSIASTIC! I’m sure you can just imagine. No kittens yet. Yeah. Oddly enough, as Nate and I were going to his first class yesterday, we had a similar experience to Jack, except the red-tail hawk we saw was not injured. The hawk was sitting on the curb in front of my neighbor’s house. I saw another one a few weeks ago close to Jeff’s house. It has flown across the road and landed under a tree. Jeff said he has seen four of them circling the area. The train tracks are actually a good location to catch mice so perhaps that’s why they’ve taken to the neighborhood. Nate was thrilled to see a bird of prey up close and personal in the wild (if you consider a small city street “the wild.”) It flew to the top of the electrical pole and regarded us with a sour look, that is, if hawks can look sour. Still looking for another job. Send some good vibrations my way!

Confessions of Nanner

I hate waking up early. Hate it. But, I hate getting up late, because then I feel as though I’ve wasted the day. In this regard, I can’t win. I love morning time. I hate getting out of bed, but I love mornings. The world is quiet, the cats are purring, and there’s something special about watching the sun rise over the mountains, and smelling fresh air, especially in Spring or Fall. I can be anal retentive, especially about my beading, my writing, and my space. Not that my space has to be neat or clean, but that it’s mine, mine, mine, all mine, don’t touch. As for my beading, remember that pretty Russian sunflower. I took it apart last night after putting a center on it and everything. That’s right, cut it apart. Because Nanner is so fastidious (anal), I could take it apart and not compromise the integrity of the leaves, except for the one that was pissing me off. I like symmetry and balance. There was one leaf that curled too far to one side. It wouldn’t let me straighten it out because the beads were too tight. As much as you guys saw a pretty brooch, I saw that one fucking leaf. I would never be satisfied if I didn’t fix it. I feel so much better now that I took it apart and started re-doing the leaf. I’m also glad I did this because I also didn’t like how the back looked. Back schmack, right? Wrong. My host mother does uber awesome cross stitch. What do you think the back of her pieces look like? Well, a lot better than mine ever did. Backs matter. There were just too many strings, and the wire from the center was poking through, it just looked, messy. Everything in my life is messy, except my beading. Not gonna start now. This time, I will sew everything together, get the center put on and then put a back on it to cover everything up. That’s a better idea. I’m full of ‘em, just ask me. I’m going to be a grandmeow again. That bitch Lola, remember Lola? The black cat I gave away that came home? Well, she clawed all of the covering away from around the air conditioner and squeezed out of the opening. Now she’s too preggo to squeeze anything but a couple of kittens out. *Sigh* Adding insult to injury, Ireland got out this morning and promptly made off with the neighbor’s tom cat who looked like he had just won the lottery. Its sad when your cats get laid more often than you do. These two are the last to get fixed so I’m hopeful to put the money back while they’re both gestating and suckling to have them fixed. And we were doing so good with keeping them in the house. I’m so disappointed. No, I couldn’t chase her, I was in a towel. How did she get out? I was holding the door open so Preggo Lola could lumber into the house. It’s a conspiracy.

A Pictoral

Watch band close-up. You can see I hadn't cut the strings off. Watch band. My new russian leaves. A half finished russian sunflower. Had to change from 12 petals to 8. A lapel pin of shamrocks. I stuck one four leaf shamrock in there. Nate doing his Statue of Liberty impersonation. Yours truly.

Tallmansville . . . What Happened?

There are many unanswered questions about what actually happened in Tallmansville; why there was an explosion, why it took the rescue teams so long, why many things happened. Allow me to shed some light on the subject. The coal mine in Tallmansville appeared to be a slope mine, meaning, it sloped downward instead of running horizontally against the hillside. A shaft mine, like the one featured in “October Sky,” means you have to use an elevator to access it. Regardless of whether the mine runs horizontal or slopes, you’re still underground, period. The miners were at least 260 feet underground, that we do know. We know they were found about two miles from the mine entrance, literally at the face of the mine. The “face” being the end of where work is progressing. Seems simple, right? You walk or take a cart to the face of the mine and work. Should be easy to find them, right? No. Not really. The work at Tallmansville was being done in a “room and pillar” method. Coal is extracted and “pillars” are left to support the mine roof. I know, you’re thinking of Parthenon pillars, tall, slender, graceful things. No. “Mine pillars” can be, I’m guessing at best with the information I have, anywhere from 50 to 300 feet across in a “room” anywhere from 500 to 3000 feet squared. (I, of course, have no confirmed dimensions). From my best recollection, there were maybe five to seven “rooms” in the Tallmansville mine. This will lead to a better understanding of the large area the rescuers had to cover. After all, they did not know if they had made it to the face of the mine. They could have been anywhere on the other side of where the other miners escaped from. As for the explosion, I have a decent theory for that. See, next door to the Tallmansville main mine, was a sealed mine. What happens in the “room and pillar” method is that when they reach the end of the property line or whatever, they do what is called “retreat mining.” They mine as much as they can of the pillars until the roof falls and then the mine is sealed. Regardless, deadly gases are still released into that sealed area. There is no ventilation like in an operating mine. The next operative is ground water. Mines are continuously pumped for that reason. It was the failure of a breached mine on the other side which caused the Quecreek problem. The folks who monitor thunderstorms and such stated that there were three lightning strikes within five miles of the mine that morning. One of those strikes was anywhere from four to 10 times stronger than average about 1 and a half miles from the mine. How could that happen? Groundwater. Muddy, dirty water will carry a stronger current than fresh water. Mud is sometimes calf deep in the mines, as evidenced by the fact the robot got stuck. All it took to explode the poisonous, flammable gas in the sealed portion of the mine was one spark. Its possible and the best theory I think anyone has at this point. Plus, the mine had been closed for the holidays. Its my understanding the fire boss went into the operating portion of the mine first and tested it and cleared it. (He was the first one killed by the blast from the sealed portion.) The miners, I believe, although unconfirmed, died of carbon monoxide poisoning (as evidenced in part by their notes to loved ones that they were “just going to sleep” and didn’t suffer.) How did Randall survive? Perhaps because he was younger and less affected by the CO2 for a period of time. Perhaps it was lung capacity, as he didn’t have the length of time in the mines, and lung damage, that the others possibly did. (Black lung leads to an inefficient exchange of CO and O in the lungs). Perhaps when the levels of CO2 rose to dangerous levels he was the only one with oxygen still in his mask. Perhaps the Higher Power simply smiled upon him. I know this. Randall McCloy is one tough guy or he had an angel on his shoulder, or both. We’re praying for you and your family and the families of your co-workers. Blessed be.

Life Hurts Today

After the crushing news this morning about the Sago miners, I whipped myself into shape for my job interview. I would love to tell you all that it went swimmingly and all that, but, I have no idea how it went. The interviewer, my potential new boss, was dry and practically unreadable, and trust me, I was putting the feelers out. I felt as though he was holding himself highly neutral, not wanting to disclose displeasure or acceptance. Once I told my current boss what my main job duty would consist of he said, "You could do that in your sleep. That’s all you do." I hope I conveyed that to the interviewer. The job has a lot of potential and professional advancement opportunities which could open a whole new world to me in law enforcement and catching fraudulent bad guys. Just to be on the safe side though, I surfed the federal jobs site again and found a labor compliance job I’m applying for. One part of the application, the questionnaire portion, is 21 pages long. I’m working on a new beading project which I’m calling, "Russian Sunflower." Its Russian leaves and then I’ll either bead a cabochon, which is highly polished, convex cut, unfaceted gem (so sayeth Mr. Webster) or I’ll figure out a centerpiece similar to the one I used in the photo below. The brooch below is made with Czech beads so the leaves are bigger. The one I’m making now, I’m making with Delicas so the leaves are considerably smaller. There will be 12 leaves and then the centerpiece. This brooch includes a beaded bead as the centerpiece. I don't know if you can tell or not, but the dark beads are a deep cranberry and the green beads are lined with fuschia. Its really beautiful in person, if I do say so myself. I’m really tired. If I haven’t made it around to your spot, I will very soon.

Confusion and Disbelief

When I went to bed at the ungodly hour of 1:00 a.m., I believed 12 had survived, as probably many of you thought as well. And we awake to a terrible "miscommunication." The State of West Virginia, and indeed, practically the entire nation, went to sleep last night believing in miracles. We awake to reality. Twelve dead, one survivor. *Tears*

With The Sweet . . . Comes The Sour

Mountaineers score sweet win in Sugar Bowl Officials at mine rescue ‘very discouraged’ Tests show very poor air quality in area near missing West Va. miners

Travel Plans for 2006

With acquiring a new job, comes the inevitable lack of vacation time. Some companies have moved to the same system my current job uses, which is acquiring one sick day and one vacation day for each month of employment, then accruing vacation time once a year with the continuing sick time policy. Perhaps though, I’ll be employed where you must wait an entire year before obtaining vacation. Regardless, that’s what weekends are for. In February, I hope to trot off to D.C. to see Troy and participate in the National Geographic Travel Writing Workshop. Mikey hopes to run the Chicago Marathon in October, so it seems like a good opportunity to see him and the Peon, Lois Lane, and Tsarina. Chicago has always been on the list of places I’ve wanted to visit and what a perfect opportunity. Chances are if I’m juried in at Tamarack that I will be making another bead buying trip to NC and visit with El Sid for longer than 1/2 of an hour. However, the trip I would like to make the most is to Germany. A weekend would not suffice alas, and that’s one thing I will be disappointed about. If I can accrue vacation time then I’ll have enough days to go in August. See, my Oma is turning 90 in August and my sister, BIL, and nephews will be there from TX, maybe even my parents (if we can convince my Mom to get on a plane). I would be willing to take the time off without pay if they would allow me to. Its been almost 17 years since my family was all together in Germany. If its meant to be, I know it will find a way.