laid low

there has been some crap with the dept of education and some other crap with a continuation review board and then there is the crap in counseling but the biggest crap at the moment (and for the past week) has been the inability to draw a non-musical breath.

no kidding, i sound like a 20+ year old clunker attempting to start in pennsylvania in a blizzard.  this isn't just a wheeze, it's not just a rattle, it's an entire symphony going on; we gotcher woodwinds, we gotcher clashing cymbals, hell we even gotcher bagpipes.  all right here in my chest.

i go back to the doctor in the morning.  i'm gonna request those long suction pipes they use in surgery (and the dentist's office) and have a go at my phlegm clogged lungs.  i've already had a breathing treatment (monday) and they sent me home with antibiotics, inhaler, and cough syrup.

it ain't pretty, and in a way, i'm glad my guy is in texas at the moment.  as it is, he listens to me hack up crud long distance.  it's safer than being in spit spewing distance.

Drought in Mississippi

We normally have a rainy spring, usually a solid month of Mississippi mud (not the dessert).  Our rainfall levels are about a foot and a half low.  Most of the lakes and ponds are very low and the rivers are too.  Most farmers here in Mississippi are very worried because crop yield is way down.

Yet, we have such humid days.  At night, and early in the morning, the dew drenches the ground and grass.  Then the sun rises and burns off the dew, leaving the vegetation thirsting for water.

So, I wonder why we don't use condensation sheets.  Surely a grant from the Dept of Agriculture could grant monies to farmers for these materials that would allow the night airs to catch and accumulate the moisture so that some of the humidity can help to combat the drought.  I know it would not solve everything, but given that last year and this year were low productivity yields, I think it might help to take some predatory steps to prevent the same sort of damage in the future.

The government will fund projects that make no sense.  I'd like to see them fund something that does make sense.  Yet another pipe-dream of mine.  sigh.

tids and bits

I've been away for awhile, but do appreciate all the comments that have been left.  It's been a rather draining year, thus far.  I'm dealing with some murky personal issues and have not wanted to write much because I am afraid that my entries will be laden with whining and/or things that should be left unsaid and unread at this point.  But there are a few things external to that whole mess that I'd like to say.

Some of you may remember that I had a kitten named Stella since October.  Well, in May she didn't show up for her meal time and I thought she might be out in the fields, checking out things.  After she didn't show for a few days, I called my landlords because I thought maybe Stella went to their place to play with her litter mates.  Nope, they've not seen her.  I called the local humane society thinking that maybe someone picked her up if she strayed off the farm.  DeLisa and Glenn had not seen her.  Something happened to her, which may make sense since she was still a kitten and there are some big bad things in these fields and woods.  She was extremely gentle and laid-back with me, so maybe she didn't know how to defend herself.

In the beginning of June, I'd be talking with my guy about how I missed her and also how I missed having a kitty gamboling about.  He had gotten an eMail from one of his fellow grad students because she was wanting to find homes for four kittens that her father's cat had had at the end of April.  The eMail was old and so we weren't sure if any kittens were still available.  Well the gist of it is that over Father's Day weekend, a kitten was transported from Mobile to Oxford and then I picked her up and brought her home to Starkville.

Saffron is a long-haired grey and black kitten with a orange burst on her forehead.  I thought the name would suit and everyone liked it so they began to call her that while she was still in Mobile.  She is extremely gentle with me, and very vocal.  She gets along well with the pups and acclimated quite nicely to the place.  At first, she was both indoors and outdoors, but then I got sort of worried that something along the lines of Stella's fate might happen.  So I purchased kitty litter, litter pan, and scoop and then set everything up for her.  She took to it immediately and things are oder-free so far because I keep up with the disposal of the scoopables.  She wasabsolutely great while I shampooed her and then sprayed her with flea/tick treatment.  I will most likely keep her as an indoors kitty.

I am allergic to cats but have had luck with Stella and so far with Saffron.  The only reactions I've had are if my skin is broken with her nails.  Then, I have a bit of local swelling and itching.  I do take allergy meds for lots of stuff so that's helped.  I'm planning to get her clipped, as that will help even more.  I plan to continue to shampoo her with this gentle nature mix that I found that is good for cats as it doesn't strip out the oils that protect their skin.  If I do develop breathing problems, she gots to go tho.

So that's whats up with the kitty situation.  Hopefully more updates will follow soon!  Have a great week and enjoy the 4th as much as possible, safely.

Phonophobia

I love peace and quiet.  Noises tend to startle me and I often slip away, when surrounded by harsh sounds.  Dissociating is something that I have to work hard against, sometimes more so than others.  At times, I fall away before I realize it, and am no longer present in the moment.  I've been doing better over the past few years, in some ways cuz I have isolated in many ways.  There are those few times when I surround myself with sounds, by choice.  But most of the time, chaos adds to my anxiety.  Usually, I know now when I am having an exceptionally rough time, and am more vulnerable to triggers that are best avoided.  It is at those times being home, in the relative solitude is a solace to me.  I'm learning to know myself and listen to myself more and more, trusting and respecting me.  It is so very wonderful that I have a loving supportive guy who encourages me, praises me, and comforts me.  Thank you, sweetie, for being you!

Swings

I've been feeling a great amount of anxiety for a sustained amount of time.  The times when I am able to still focus on other things and function to some degree are becoming fewer and fewer.  I had thought that I was making some positive strides.  Now, I'm not so sure, because I feel sucker-punched to the gut with a huge cannon ball.  I know that these things happen and that I'll land on my feet.  But right now, all those notions seem lame and trite.

Several times in the past week, I've only slept for a few hours at most, to be jolted awake and unable to rest again.  I feel tremendously jittery and exhausted and I hate, hate, hate being stuck in this quagmire.

My counselor and I have been dealing with some tough issues for months now and taking a break is necessary but not happening because I can't seem to get my ducks in a row to do that.  When I'm on, I'm really quite alright.  But I'm off-kilter so often and so easily here of late that it is having wear and tear on me.

This is awful.

Sometimes, ya just need a good cry...

Seasons In The Sun Lyrics

Goodbye to you, my trusted friend.
We've known each other since we're nine or ten.
Together we climbed hills or trees.
Learned of love and ABC's,
skinned our hearts and skinned our knees.
Goodbye my friend, it's hard to die,
when all the birds are singing in the sky,
Now that the spring is in the air.
Pretty girls are everywhere.
When you see them I'll be there.
We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.
But the hills that we climbed
were just seasons out of time.
Goodbye, Papa, please pray for me,
I was the black sheep of the family.
You tried to teach me right from wrong.
Too much wine and too much song,
wonder how I get along.
Goodbye, Papa, it's hard to die
when all the birds are singing in the sky,
Now that the spring is in the air.
Little children everywhere.
When you see them I'll be there.
We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.
But the wine and the song,
like the seasons, all have gone.
Goodbye, Michelle, my little one.
You gave me love and helped me find the sun.
And every time that I was down
you would always come around
and get my feet back on the ground.
Goodbye, Michelle, it's hard to die
when all the bird are singing in the sky,
Now that the spring is in the air.
With the flowers ev'rywhere.
I whish that we could both be there.
We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.
But the stars we could reach
were just starfishs on the beach

Hello, Walt

Walt passed fairly peacefully this afternoon.  Bonnie takes great comfort in this and so much more.  He has touched so many lives and as his journals are here, online, he will continue to affect folks.  Bonnie reminds me that Walt is now my guardian angel and is truly spiritual and surrounds us all.  Hello, my friend, and welcome to a carefree existence!

waiting

It seems at the moment that so much of my life right now is in limbo.  Waiting is excruciating.  Last night, the nursing home called Bonnie and said that Walt's condition is deteriorating quickly and to come in.  I've not yet heard what is what.  Hopefully, this has been as peaceful as possible.  I wish I were geographically closer, but I know that I probably would add to confusion and crisis if I were actually there.  Besides, emotional, mental, spiritual support can be more comforting than physical presence.

In other me-news, the Dept of Education, my doctors, my counselors, and me are locked into a strange dance.  All my folks, the doctors, the counselors, the other care-givers are all rallying and willing to see this through.  Now, if only the dept of education would give us some straight answers and some consistency, stop negating their own stories and policy, we could move forward.  I've already been told by the Dept of Education that my loans will be discharged, however, I've not received documentation regarding that.  Instead they have told me that they need more info, but refuse to tell me what that info is.  My doctors' offices are doing all they can, refaxing forms to the Dept of Edu again and again, but to no avail.  I am past confusion and desperation.  This whole thing has had a toll and altho I know that this is par for the course for a gov'ment bureaucracy and all, it doesn't make things any easier to wade thru.  Urk.

Will update on Walt as I can.

Blah blah blogs

I've been canceling accounts that I've not used in sometime.  I wanted to try a bunch of different types of forums.  Some are pretty cool, but I didn't want to spread myself out even thinner (not that I'm thin, ya know, but I need to focus on a few things rather than so many).  But there were a few good entries, and I wanted to include those here before I cancel out the useless blogs.

Consolidation is what I'm sayin'.

Newness

There was so much going on in my life, then slowly things slowed down in an absolute way. But to me, life still seemed too hectic and I was stressing over the smallest thing. Now, I have cut even more "obligation" from my life so that I can focus on developing some other areas. Like writing, like learning German, like swimming and working out on a more regular basis, like attending to my own needs and becoming and being healthier.

I know for some folks, that my life might be more than ideal. For me, I'm not exactly sure why it seems that I have less of an ability to handle things that don't weird others. Like my phone service, there is a problem and I just haven't the energy to deal with the hassle of it.

And even this, sounds like I am sniveling.

But, I am devoting this journal space to sorting out all those pieces and parts that are so overwhelming, confusing, little, hurt, vulnerable, proud, stubborn, loud, smart, hidden, scared, indignant, etc. So, at times this might be intense, at times it might make little sense, at times i might be sniveling. The cool thing is, it's mine.

IFS (parts is parts)

When I began to see this current therapist, I was curious about the model she uses. It's called "The Internal Family Systems Model" or IFS for short. It is a combination of several existing models and tends to emphasize certain elements of them, so that it is not an entirely new model (and really what is?) but a definite improvement of any single one of the models by themselves. It addresses some drawbacks while accentuating the positives.

What makes IFS, IFS is viewing all of your parts as making up a huge system, that helps you to function, by protecting you, managing certain aspects, crisis super heros that rush in to save the day. That's my take on it. Looking over the website, http://www.internalfamilysystems.org/model.htm, to get a better idea of the formalized model's vocab, I see that they call these Firefighters, Managers, and Exiles. These parts exist along with the Self.

The managers are usually those that are protectively guiding you through situations. These parts often deal with presentation of self, wanting to keep things smooth, and looking good. The managers often shield the self from anything that may bring to mind vulnerable emotions and feelings. Those emoting parts are called exiles, because the managers are quashing them down from contact with the self, banning them to hidden unacknowledged areas. Then there are the firefighters that come to the rescue when memories and emotions flare up. Overeating maybe a firefighting way to drown emotional pain for some.

Now I know that some of you may be thinking, "parts?!?" I think that we all have referred to multiplicity of self. When you are faced with a difficult decision, you may say that part of you wants to do this, and part of you thinks that this other choice might be best. This sort of thinking doesn't make you odd, it makes you human. For me, it's more of a matter of paying attention to my parts and my self than a matter of my not relating to parts.

The main thing about this model that appeals to me is that instead of scolding myself into eliminating a part, this model is about accepting those parts and valuing them and honoring that they helped you to function and survive. It makes it so much more likely that one part won't be so overwhelming, if you don't try to delete it. Sometimes that part just wants to be heard.

I think about my two dogs as an example. I have a 65 pound black lab who is 5, named Shaddow. And a soon to be 4 yr old rat-cha (rat terrier/chihuahua) who is about 5 to 10 pound, named Ziggee. Shaddow is very loving and gentle. Ziggee is a happy guy but more demanding because he loves attention. Shaddow will hang in the back, and let Ziggee rush up and grab all the attention. I can tell that Shaddow wants some love too, but Ziggee is right there, hogging it all.

Well, I discovered that if I pay a ton of attention to Ziggee, give him enough love that he knows without a doubt that I love him. Reassure him and saturate him with my love. Then, after he is not so wild with need, I turn to Shaddow. Now, Ziggee will try to squirm in. Ijust tell him that I do love him, but this is Shaddow's time and he needs to let her have her love too. He usually is so happy and satisfied that he lays down somewhere close, so he is near. But he gives Shaddow all the time she needs too. Shaddow knows that I will spend alot of time with her and scratch all the hairs loose and give her lots of attention and love too. So she is willing to wait til Ziggee has had his turn and then she gets her turn of lots of love too. That's kinda how I look at some parts that clamor for attention.

Understood? understand me!!

All my life, as far as I can remember at any rate, I have explained my thoughts ad nauseum. There are a few reasons for this. I'm aware of some of those reasons.

When I was a child, the principal at one of my many schools had commented with exasperation that I had a reason for everything. And I did. I didn't see how that could possibly be a bad thing.

Even as a child, especially as a child, I was very mindful and considered things in from as many perspectives as possible because my parents raised me to be critical and expected me to be able to answer any debatable point. So when I was held accountable for my actions, by omission or commission, I had a reason ready for what I had chosen to do (or not to do). I didn't understand the concept of rhetorical questioning and so I would speak up when asked something like, "what were you thinking?!?"

It became important to me to be understood from a very early age. This means that sometimes I can be pedantic and tend to supply way more of a thorough explanation than was really wanted in the first place. Sometimes I can be mindful of that, but I am never sure at what level of detail my own answers should be. If I ask for clarification, the conversation becomes awkward and often dwindles off into confused avoidance.

However, I need to work on this area and see if there isn't an effective way for me to rein in my own need to be understood by providing exhaustive explanations. Ya know, like the lengthy explanations provided thus far!

Observing

My guy is coming with me to my counseling session on Wed. It is not meant to be couples counseling, or even for me to say things to him that I feel I can't in any other environment (that's not an issue). There are times when I try to describe, to explain, a session, and I fail to do so adequately. So this week, he has some time that he will be available on Wednesday (a very rare oddity) and so I asked him and my counselor if he could come. Both said yes, and my counselor moved our time from our normally scheduled Tuesday to Wed.

The main reason I wanted him to come was so that he could see what a session is like for me and also see what some of the issues are that I'm working through. This counseling is very different from the run of the mill talk therapy and I feel we do get some tremendous work done. I feel better about this therapy than I have about others.

My counselor said that she will approach this as an observation session, and ask that he observe, but not interrupt. That he can feel free to give feedback and ask questions after the session, she will set time aside for that. From my perspective, since it is not an active session which is demanding his participation, I think he is more comfortable with the idea of coming to it. He said that he actually wants to do it, that's why I changed the session from Tuesday to Wed. I don't want him to feel like he NEEDS to do this or any sort of pressure.

Spring has sprung!

My guy did observe my counseling session this past week. He does have a better idea of what the sessions are like, the IFS model and how it can work, and the sorts of issues that I am dealing with at this time. I really appreciate that he made this effort with me, it was a huge step for our relationship, itself.

Now on the lighter side of life, here on this Mississippi Farm...

I have mentioned my furrbees before in this journal. Stella is my 6 month kitten and she just had spaying surgery a few days ago. She is much much better now then for the first day afterwards. In a week or so, I will take her back to have her staples removed.

Ziggee is my lil cat in a dog suit. He is a rat-cha and a bit bigger than Stella, much smaller than Shaddow. Shaddow is my 65 pound black lab, sweet and gentle.

Ziggee is terribly excited about spring. He is just terribly excited about something all the time. Exuberant joyous excitability!! The other day, he was pouncing on clumps of weeds and sending up pollen puffs, and then he would pounce on the next clump. I was getting such a kick out of just watching the lil guy.

Shaddow is practicing her zenlike deep breathing and yoga like postures. She is now engaged in the dead dog pose. She can hold that pose for tremendously long periods of time.

My friends from New York sent me a package which included treats for us all! Tea for me!! Stella's favorite toy, the Really BAD Dog catnip head; Peanut Butter treats which resemble fig-newtons, but are solely for doggy consumption (altho I may wanna try one, I am resisting the urge, so far); bone shaped rawhide chews; and a tug-toy that is quite humorous, although I may be the only one to find it such thus far. I'm sure that when Ziggee can see Shaddow using it, he may decide to give it a try.

Thanks so very much, my dear friends!!

Wow, where to start?

Happy Spring! Tomorrow, my mom is coming for a visit. She lives about 8 hrs away, so we don't get to visit with each other often. She's staying for a few days and I am just beside myself with excitement. I don't care how old I am, I feel like an eager child whenever my mom and I can get together for a visit. yea!!

I've spoken with my counselor about my need to explain things, the last couple visits. There is a part of me that wants to rush ahead and explain everything, because I don't want to take the chance that I might be misunderstood because I didn't voice something that I should have. There is a part of me that is holding back on that rushing ahead part and being more of a 'well now, let's be reasonable' thinking part that is saying CURB your enthusiasm, Debra!!

And I discovered that partly why I feel the need to explain stuff is because so many times when I don't voice my opinion or my thoughts, I'd get run over. Or when I'd say something, but not a BIG long explanation, then folks would say stuff like, well ya know, you weren't very clear. So instead of addressing that, in some other healthy way, I would try to avoid being misunderstood, by voicing every thought, explanation, opinion, etc.

So there is that part that has no voice. That is NOT bad, because voicing things, as you can see, can be taken to the extreme and be disastrous. Voices need not be necessary. There are times when having no voice means that you can still communicate strongly and clearly and effectively.

I am becoming more aware of the need not to explain and more aware of not needing to speak at all. I know that I will not always so the right things, at the right time, to the right amount, but I think I feel a bit more relaxed about the possibility that I can choose to remain silent.

Mom's visit

My mom came to visit this past week. She got in on Thursday late afternoon and we spent the evening basically catching up with any big stuff that has been going on in each other's lives. Friday I did some errands and she got to see some of the town and in general what sort of things I do. We both haven't played Monopoly in forever and so it was fun to have played each other Friday night. Saturday, we went to the Bollinger Family Theatre in Bruce, Mississippi. A few friends of mine came to visit Sunday and Monday. Mom and I watched a few movies and listened to some books on tape over the stay and she left this morning.

So those were the things we did, but here are the things that were most important. Mom and I were very companionable. We were relaxed and easy with each other. There were a few topics of conversation that we agreed to disagree without being a big deal. We were able to discover things about each other that were new and surprising and pleasant.

We talked and talked and talked. That's one of the things I love about visits with mom is that we can actually have conversations and talk about a multitude of things and subjects and discuss things without there being lots of commotion. Yes, we are different but we are ok with those differences without feeling a huge need to combat and persuade. In lots of ways we are alike too. And it is funny when we realize how similar we are.

It was a good visit with lots of good points and very relaxing. Yea!!

Rumination

I ruminate, lots. I will toss and turn things about and tear them apart and replay them mentally until I am way way way too stressed out and reading intentionality into things that were innocuously stated. Knowing that it is something I do does not make it lots easier not to do. But I can't not do it unless I would be aware of doing it, if that makes sense.

I do know I do it and I have gotten better about not doing it overly much. There are still times when something hits my triggers all just right and off I go, for a saunter down the ruminating row. I am working on reducing the disproportionate reactions I can sometimes have and to not let those hair-trigger reactions overwhelm me.

Mom and I were speaking about ruminating the other day. She pointed out that I do come from a long line of ruminators. My father and my grandfather and his mother and and and and and ... all seem to have been verbal ruminatiors and rehashers.

Although I come by it honestly, I am aware that it can be extremely unhealthy. And often times ruminating and explaining go hand in hand. Like they have here.

Anticipation

Another area that I am working on in therapy and out is anticipation. I don't mean that in a positive way. I think that we can go to the extremes with just about any thing and for me, anticipation has been something that has been troublesome rather than moderate and helpful.

By anticipation I am referring to those things where I think I know how the other person is going to react and what it is that will be said and how s/he will feel and think and based on that I then think my next thought in reaction and such and so forth. This can result in some very unsavory unfair moments. It can be extremely damaging to a relationship.

So it is something I have become aware of doing and am in the process of trying to get that under control somewhat. It isn't fair to others when I think I know how they are going to react and base my own reactions on that. Second-guessing folks isn't healthy either. I don't do that too much, I don't think, but I do anticipate and that is not fair to the other person. It doesn't give them a chance to react to stuff and make their own decisions and choices and it strips them of their autonomy to a point.

I wouldn't want someone to do something because they think they know how I would react given the choice. I would at least want the option of choosing my own thoughts, reactions, and such. So it is something I focused on today in therapy and am still thinking about at times. We will continue to discuss it next week.

Compassion

It's more than respect, kindness, caring, or even love.  It is all those things, and more.  It can be felt and shown for strangers, for friends, even for enemies.

To me, having compassion means that I can hear you.  I can listen and understand.  I can have empathy.  I can be supportive.

Being compassionate means mostly that I am there for you, in whatever way possible.   It means that small, mundane tasks are done for you, so that you don't need to focus on those things.  It means not needing thanks or gratitude or reciprocity.

Compassion means that I respect you autonomy, your choices, your decisions.  Compassion means that judgment is not passed, lectures are not given, disapproval is not expressed.  Compassion is something that we all need more of, to give more and to receive.

Compassion is unreserved.

...wha...?

For many many years, I didn't watch TV at home.  Sometimes I would see it while out, at the gym, in the doctor's office, at a friend's, ya know places where you might see a partial episode of some sit-com, and about 17 screaming obnoxious commercials.  About a month ago, I turned the TV on so that I could watch a movie on my VCR.  And WOW was I surprised...

See, since I've been here, in Mississippi, on the Farm, for the past five years, I've only had two channels (fuzzy and fuzzier).  So when I turned the TV on and a clear picture popped up, I zoned out and got sucked into the drama, drama, drama.  The sole channel is a Fox affiliate, which means I get to see such shows as American Idol, 24, House, Drive, Bones, Are You Smarter than A Fifth Grader?, and ya know, Jerry Springer, where I get to see the skanks, ho's, and boneheads go at it...just like going to the local Wal-Mart.

By far the most entertaining (and not in an intentional fashion) aspect is the commercials.  In fact, I watched one in particular over and over, paying attention to it every time it played, trying to figure out what the hell the dude is saying.  You might have wondered too.  It occupied my mind so much so that I Googled it.  That is so very sad, pathetic really.

It's the Strawberries and Cream Starburst commercial with the weird lil wired dude with the dutch-boy haircut and the colonial-cut costume.  I couldn't figure out what the hell he rapturously sings in joyous climatic screeches.  Now, now I know.

And boy, ain't my life more complete now that I know he truly is "a little lad who loves berries and cream"?

Warm Wishes for Walt

All of your warm wishes, thoughts, and prayers for Bonnie and Walt are wonderful and appreciated.  Some of you have asked for their address so that you can express your love and concern directly to them.  The hospice care will see that any cards or notes get to Bonnie and Walt.  Bonnie isn't sure which room he will be using, as of Wednesday; but we are certain that there will only be one Walter Wenzel there!!  So if you would like to send a note, please address your thoughts to:

Walter Wenzel
The Highlands at Brighton
5901 Lac De Ville Boulevard
Rochester, NY  14618

Walt is sleeping peacefully for the most part, but is aware of the love we feel for him.  Rest assured that he is receiving quality care and adequate pain medication to ensure the comfort levels are sufficient.  Bonnie appreciates all of your friendships and is glad that people are so supportive.

Near and Dear

Over the past month, I've really realized how much Walt and Bonnie have become a part of my daily life in the past year and a half.  Walt is the typer of the two, letting Bonnie know what's going on with whom and posting entries from the both of them.  They do so much together, having been married for about 37 years.  It is rare to see a couple so companionable as they are, together, and for others.

They have become true friends to me.  Walt was always present online, when I wanted to chat.  We could be serious, and contemplative.  We discussed and advised each other, counseled and shared thoughts.  He and Bonnie are so very caring and kind.

We could be silly and witty and nonsensical.  They would make me chuckle and I would keep them posted on the Furrbee Frolix.  We have become closer and closer in so many ways that it seems odd to think that we have not met in-person, face-to-face.

Over the last few months, since the Holidays, we've exchanged cards and packages.  They would send me treats for the Furrbees and tea for me.  I would send them a variety of teas that I knew they couldn't get in their area.

About a month ago, Walt was absent from IM and eMail and posted no entries.  Bonnie called me and told me that he'd had a heart attack and they were getting his diabetes under control a bit before they could do by-pass surgery.  I've used the phone more this past month than I have for years.

See, it's hard for me to use the phone.  It is much more comfortable for me to IM/eMail.  My own parents and my guy and my friends know that I don't use the phone and they expect to leave voice-mail for me if they do call, because they know that I won't even hear the phone ring, let alone answer it.  But Bonnie doesn't use the computer.  Putting aside my own trepidation and phone-phobias, I've been speaking with her fairly often.  It's the least I can do, because I wish we were closer, geographically; so that I could be there for them thru this.

Walt is dying.  They've thought and talked this through and have decided that this route is best.  So, hospice care has been providing as much comfort and kindness as possible.  Walt is at peace within his mind and spirit.  Should we all be so thoughtful when our times come.

Bonnie and Walt are so very near and dear to me in so many ways.  It's hard to say good-bye for this time, to Walt.  But I would rather know that his wishes and choices are being respected than to be selfish in my own wishes.

Go sweetly, Walt.  Love you.  Debra

Sometimes, we all need some extra thoughts and prayers...

A very dear couple who have become close friends indeed are facing some tough times.  He had a heart attack Monday and today had by-pass surgery.  It went as smoothly as to be expected.  She is coping very well and has positive outlooks.  He may be moved into a regular room on Saturday and hopefully will not need quite so many tubes and hoses and bells and whistles.  Maybe next week, he can come home.

The thing is, even in the best circumstances we all need some extra love.  Please show yours.  Drop by for a gander, leave an encouraging comment, if you would.  Bring some cheese and tea!

Spaying Stella

Stella is a little over six months old now, so it was time to spay her, especially since it's spring and love seems to be in the very air we breathe.  Or that could be the mold and pollen and other frisky frolicking microbes.  That could be a problem, thinking along the lines that love can grow on ya like mold.

So, yesterday we went back to the vet to have her staple (?!?) removed.  Yeah, when I first saw the staple sticking out of her belly, I was somewhat alarmed.  I asked the vet tech and of course googled it cuz I gotta read up on these things, ya know?

Stella is rather sweet and docile and cuddly and she is a great lap-kitty.  My mom thought she was just so soft and gentle and sweet.  Stella received lots of loving over the weekend, because she was constantly being pet and held by one or the other of us!

However, Mom also gave lots of attention to Ziggee.  She isn't a little dog kinda person.  Well, she isn't a dog sorta person at all, although she does like certain individual dogs.  She's kinda like that about people too.

Ziggee squiggled up into mom's lap a few times and she would scritch all his spots too.  He was his usual charming wriggling lil self and made mom laugh every time she saw his lil body just wiggling away, even as he walks and sits and jumps.  If he is breathing, he is wagging his entire body.  That's the charm of Ziggee.  He makes ya giggle.

Shaddow was not left out.  However she was left out of the yard a few times, with all the comings and goings of friends, strangers, and family.  So she went swimming.  Several times.  In the swampy pond.  Oh, joy!  Other than short stints in the house to eat, she spent much of her muddy fragrant time outside.

But mom pet her too and gave her treats and told her how pretty she was (albeit a bit messy at the moment).  My furrbees said, "yea!!!  gra'ma's coming to visit!!"

Furbee Frolix

I was cradling Stella, my six month old kitten, and loving on her.  Ziggee was trying to muscle in on the love and Stella was tolerant for a little bit.  Ziggee reeks, and Stella was turning her face away, then she extended her paw and pushed against his shoulder.  But Ziggee was intent on getting right in her space, so Stella bit his ear!  Ziggee yelped in surprise and pulled back fast and decided to wait for his turn.

That'll learn ya.

Grow Old with Me

...the best is yet to be...

I was listening to the song earlier, while driving home.  It made me think of my sweetie.  Mary Chapin Carpenter sings a wonderful version of this song written by Paul McCartney and John Lennon, based on a Robert Browning poem.

Rabbi ben Ezra
Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be...

where oh where...

Until now, I've been posting pretty much the same entries across several formats (AIM journal, MySpace, and Blogger/Blogspot).  But, I think I will post certain sorts of things in one or the other, instead of all three.  So, this is a heads up to let you know that you might want to check myspace and/or blogger for different entries of mine.  I realize that some will not choose to access the other locations, and that is fine.  I also know that many do not have myspace accnts and cannot access my posts there, that's ok too.  If there is anything that I feel is very terribly important, I will most likely post it in all three.  In my repeated experience, blogger tends to load oh-so-much faster and give me oh-so-many fewer problems than AIM.  No surprise there.

From time to time, I will post reminders, just to let you know where and what I have posted.  I think it will help to foster more creativity on my part.  If it is too confusing or too much trouble on your part, that's okey, it's not like you have to visit any of em.  But, I'd appreciate it if you would!

Portitude

Paper Portitude is a recent stumbleupon.  There is quite a selection of classics linked there.  The short story is my current love of the literature world.
"Nevermind the musty smell; it's merely the scent of dusty books, waiting to be opened and read.

Presented to you here - in our humble library - are the classics. From the Grimm fairy tales, to the poems of Robert Frost, there's enough on our shelves to keep you occupied for long time.

You've been reading since you were a child, so this should be easy. Just pick an author, or a genre, and get started."

I've been reading Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Holmesian shorts.  This week, the volume is due back at the library.  In just a few moments, I plan to begin Paper Portitude's host of O Henry's "After Twenty Years".  I won't have to worry about returning that to the library, now will I?

In my life I'll love you more...

It's no secret to those who know me well that I don't think much favorably about the whole frantic activity with which we contemporarily associate Valentine's Day.  Briefly, I think it is rather pathetic that there are people who need to have a special day to remind them to be sweet to the ones they profess to love.  I suppose if Valentine's Day does serve as a time to reflect upon our own behaviour and attitudes toward the ones we love, then it may be a very good thing indeed.

Endeavor to love the ones you hold dear, every day, in all ways.  Show your appreciation, with acts of sincerity that need no obligatory Hallmark Holiday.  Startle them with a caring touch, a quick hug, a warm smile.  Enjoy the moments of peace you share, with your truly loved one.

...wha...?

Here it is, Friday!  Wednesday, I went to the new Barnes and Nobles, which is on campus.  It was the first time I'd been there.  I browsed around, briefly.  There was a table with some page-a-day calendars and boxes of holiday cards, for a buck per.  So I used my birthday gift card (given to me last November) and bought an assortment.

One of the page-a-days is devoted to Bushisms.  Today's Bushism is:

"In other words, I don't think people ought to be compelled to make the decision which they think is best for their family."

If I could, I'd show you how very ernestly I can say that.  Cuz I've the ability to say hilarious crap with a straight face.  Ya gotta, if you deal with Bush.

You've got questions, I've got answers. They might even be to those questions. We'll see

From time to time, I am asked some odd questions.  Usually, I feel they deserve equally odd answers.  Here are a few:

If I read to myself, will I go blind?
No. Unless you do it somewhere with really bad lighting.

Why should I believe in myself?
Unless you are in fact an imaginary character, you should at least suspect that you are a real person. If you manage to convince yourself that you actually exist, then you're well on the way to getting others to agree with you.  That opens the doors to all sorts of possibilities.

What do you do?

I don't do inanimate objects.  As far as people go, I'm very selective about whom I do.  I wasn't always this way.  But, I'm getting older and developing taste.

No, I meant, what do you do for money?

That depends.  Why, do you have a proposition for me?  No, forget I asked that.  I'm not going to start reverting to old habits.  That way lies yet another 12 step program.

Why won't you answer your phone when I call?

Well, the obvious answer would be, because I don't want to talk to you.  The truth is less obvious.  It's because I leave the ringer silenced, so I don't answer anyone's call. And in this case, I'm going with the obvious answer.

If you have any questions, that you'd like me to answer, feel free to ask in comments.  I may read them and laugh uproariously.  I may think, "pft".  I may even answer them, in a future blog.

Really BAD Dogs

   Meet Hal, Stella's Really BAD Dog, a refillable catnip toy.

...i was almost onto that thought, but it squirmed away...

Some days, this is how I feel...

It's a thankless job, but I've got a lot of Karma to burn off.

I started out with nothing and I still have most of it left.

Chaos, panic and disorder…my work here is done.

and so here i am at the end of the day

I've got Billy Joel lyrics looping in my mind at the moment.

Today I received a well-loved package.  In it were treats for all!  Stella loves her catnip toy and will cherish it for all time.  The pupsicles have their very own peanut butter flavored treats awaiting them.  And teas for me!!

I love tea!  sighing happily

Today, I am tired, but not that mind-numbing, drained, can't do a damned thing exhaustion that has been problematic all week.  I mean, I may even take a shower!  That's pretty damn energetic at this point!

February

Hello!

Whether it is Imbolc or Ground Hog Day for you, the beginning of February marks the midway of winter heading toward spring.  I am so ready for this winter to be over.  Mostly cuz I am immensely tired and the weather is adding to my hibernating tendancies.  But, as memom says, "don't be wishing your life away."

Hope everyone's February begins and ends nicely.

ghost busters

some thoughts regarding being ghosted...
http://blog.myspace.com/dkb1116
check it, ya know ya wanna!

awww, that's so swwweeeet

on the lighter side:

Many Weddings Set for Lucky 7-7-07

*gasp* shockingly, i am not surprised

This just in!!

"Cigarette manufacturers are increasing the level of nicotine in cigarettes..."

Cost of Depression, Global Issue

Well just in case you happen to have scads of money and are looking for something to do, there is something of interest that you can attend!

Soaring Economic Costs from Depression a Global Issue
What:	Dr. Thomas R. Insel, Director, NIMH, will present on the prevalence and global burden of depression, its enormous economic impact, and new advances in treatment at the World Economic Forum annual meeting. Depression is the leading cause of medical disability for people worldwide age 15-44 according to the World Health Organization’s World Health Report on the global burden of disease. Depression is common among the world’s population, resulting in significant economic costs. Dr. Insel will also participate in two additional sessions — one that focuses on funding for mental health research and innovation, and another that addresses urbanization from a public health perspective.
Why:	The World Economic Forum Annual Meeting, “Shaping the Global Agenda — The Shifting Power Equation.” The World Economic Forum is an independent international organization committed to improving the state of the world by engaging leaders in partnerships to shape global, regional and industry agendas (http://www.weforum.org/en/events/AnnualMeeting2007/index.htm). The annual meeting is the Forum’s flagship event that engages leaders from business, politics, religious groups and non-government organizations to shape the global, regional and industry agendas.
When:	January 24-28, 2007
Where:	Davos, Switzerland
More Info:	To arrange for an interview contact Mary Partlow, NIMH Press Office, 301-443-4536. Dr. Insel will be available for interview on-site or by phone.

lemme just say this...

do NOT ask me, "did i tell you about the last time i was feeling homocidal?"

Bringing tears to my eyes

I've been feeling out of sorts for awhile now.  There are many small reasons contribute to this off kilter sense of being.  Taken individually, or even in managable groupings, I might usually stride right along.  But taken as a rabid pack, the overwhelming image of flounding in their wake seems apt.

Just yesterday, I had eMailed a friend of mine, who is very familiar with all the goings-on at this time.  She has first hand knowledge of all the ins/outs of my particular positions and situations that occur within the realm of NAMI.  Plus, she embraces all the other oddities of being me.  I didn't have to say much about me, other than to say that 'here it is, this is how i am today' brief line or two.  In fact, I've probably written more in this post thus far about me than I did in yesterday's eMail!

The thing that choked me up, with emotional responses of relief, acceptance, and comfort was so simple.  It was a statement that I myself had made to her, awhile back.  When she was feeling similar doubts, weariness, exasperation, and smallness; I had told her something that I believe.  It is awesome that she calls my words to mind, and that they reassure her.  That means so much to me.  And, this is some of my own medicine that I'll gladly take.  Thanks for the reminder, sweeterpea.

Here it is:

To repeat what you said to me, which I often remember, with great encouragement "you are more than enough because you are mindful."  And you are.

Telling it like it is, preface

Each time that I have attempted to add an entry, I've failed.  It isn't some technical glitch of my dial-up, my service provider, nor AOL/AIM journals.  It's because of me.

It has been a long time, months, since I posted here (or anywhere) with regularity and frequency.  So now I have no idea where to start.  It is rather overwhelming, to pick up some threads that are in the midst of the weaving and try to follow things to the start or the finish.  I feel much like when I first began the whole blogging process.  That I would need to pluck and begin in the middle, and not worry overly much about explaining all the circumstances and the reasons and provide all the background and foreground.  It's enough to provide the middle ground.

Even that does not need to be complete.

Potter's Holly How as seen through Albert's eyes

Hello!

I've posted an entry elsewhere that you may want to visit.  It is about a story I just finished reading, "The Tale of Holly How" by Susan Witting Albert.  That's the second in "The Cottage Tales of Beatrix Potter" series.

resolving

If I had solved the problem in the first place, I wouldn't be faced with resolving.  Oh, wait, THAT'S not what I was going to focus on...the resolving of resolutions, such as the popular New Year's Resolution...k, here we go!

On one hand, I think that resolutions as a whole suck.  For one digit, they are usually some grand noble idea that doesn't actually have a chance of becoming realized.  Self-defeating.  On another digit (same hand), if I am going to make a change of some sort (either to begin doing or to cease doing), then why oh why would I wait til the newest year to do so?  Why put it off?  Just do it (or not, depending).

On the other hand, the new year is a beginning that many seem to acknowledge and as such may serve as a fine reminder to self-reflect and evaluate, for those who do not typically tend to indulge in those thinking processes.  If that sounds sorta snobbish, that's cuz it is.  Being snobbish doesn't mean that it is without merit, though.

On a slightly different note (would that be the ear then?), I am settling back into my routine after having been gone for over three weeks.  My animals are glad to see me, and I them.  They all need bathes in the worst way.  Shaddow has been running through the fields, swimming in swampy ponds, and getting into all manner of situations.  Ziggee has been keeping her company.  Stella has herself a staunch case of worms and fleas (from which the worms came).  They have all been treated today, but I need to have a go at it again (sorta like resolving, see cuz i didn't do it right the first time, the problem is still needing to be solved, this time i ought to buy the right medicine for the right type of worms, sillee me).

Hope all of you are having a fine new year thus far.

Happy Newest Year!

M. C. Escher

I don't use drugs, my dreams are frightening enough.

While I, like many of you, have been hither and thither over the past few weeks; I've been thinking lots.  As the new year progresses, I will most likely be posting more here.  So, everyone have a safe and fun new year's eve.  I'll be seeing you on the flip side.

Over there, over there

Hi everyone!!  Since the trend has been one entry per month (snicker), I figured I best write this one before I forget.  Actually, about a week ago I started this accnt:  http://www.myspace.com/dkb1116

Most services are bundled there so I have a home-page which includes links to my(space) blog, my(space) im'ing, my(space) email, etc.  I'm still poking around to see what sorts of features and options are available.  What is so very cool is, it's free and I like free!

Hope you stop by and visit for a spell, but I also understand if you don't get around to it.  I try to keep up with the goings on and doings in J-land, but it is mostly thru the eMailed alerts.  So, there are some things that I haven't a clue on.  I also use changenotes for non-alerted pages.  However, changenotes seems to be nonfunctional lately.

Please know that sometimes, I may read your blog, but don't leave a comment.  I'm not always in a chatty frame of mind and can't always think of what to say.  It is in no way a reflection of your blog, it's a reflection of my mind!

Do take care, be safe, stay comfortable, and have a very happy holiday season!

Flight 93

I'm watching some of the bonus features from the movie "Flight 93".  I will watch the film later, with my guy.  Below is a re-post from Monday 19 June 06.

Students in Flight

In memory of:
Bernard Curtis Brown, Sarah Clark, Asia Cottom, James Debeuneure, Rodney Dickens, James Joe Ferguson, Ann Judge, and  Hilda Taylor.

Imagine yourself as an eleven year old, a student in fifth or sixth grade, from DC.  You have been selected as one of three students in your area to travel to the Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary, near Santa Barbara, California.  Imagine how wonderfully excited you would be to have this opportunity.

James Joe Ferguson, Director of the National Geographic Education Outreach Program, contacts John Fahey, Jr. (the President of the National Geographic Society) on Monday 10 September 2001 to verify some details regarding the educational trip.  Fahey knows that Ferguson has tried his best to make this perfect in every way.  The following morning, Ferguson meets Ann Judge, travel office manager for the National Geographic Society, at the airport.  She has been on several trips that she helped to coordinate for National Geographic and is looking forward to meeting these three children and their teachers that will be flying with them to California.

American Airlines Flight 77 would never land in California.  That morning, 11 September 01, it crashed into the Pentagon.  There were 64 people aboard.  Included were three students, age 11, who no longer would have soaring educational futures.

Asia Cottom, Backus Middle School student, was accompanied by her teacher, Sarah Clark, on this trip which was sponsored by the National Geographic Society.  Bernard Curtis Brown and Rodney Dickens were students at Leckie Elementary School, accompanied by teachers Hilda Taylor and James Debeuneure (he taught fifth grade at Ketchum Elementary).

Please show some compassion for the victims of 9/11.  Visit this site for more information.  Read about the individuals, see their pictures, place yourself in their shoes, and let this moment in history become real for you.

Chain Reaction

John discusses his high score for the game chain reaction and asks how the readers did.  I dallied with it for a bit and here's my high score:  1637

I couldn't capture the page as he did, though I certainly tried!  sigh.  rats-a-frassen.  Or as he would say, "argen fargen!"  Playing the game was less frustrating then the failed attempts to transfer the image so that I could share a shot of the game!

literary licenssssse

Well, ya just know it hadda happen.  And ya know it hadda happen to me.  Cuz it's all about ME.

(by the way, how are ya?)

Last year, or the year before, so many seasons, so many infestations, pft, who knows when it happened?
Anyway, I had skinks in my office.  Well not IN my office, they lived in between the outer metal siding and
inner panelling of my trailer, ya know in the walls.  They would push their way up through a little hole in
the window sill and sun themselves, basking in the luxurious heat trapped between the outer window and
the inner plastic that I covered my window frame with.  They were a lovely pair, the male had a red waddle,
ya know, that loose skin that hangs beneath your chin in the neckish area.  Well, not YOUR neck; my neck,
the skink's neck, and my paternal grandmother had 3 of them (she was really really fat, short, but fat).

I was not terribly fond of them though, waddles nor skinks.  So my landlord came up and filled the hole with
liquid expanding foam that is stickier than shit (well,i would assume so, but i could be wrong, cuz i don't
really feel shit very often and ya know they DO say "slicker than shit" too, so how can something by stickier
AND slicker, i dunno and anyway why would they use shit as a reference point?).  But when the Great Stuff
(that is what it is called, really.  comes in a red can, with yellow script and once ya start to use it, that's it, the
can can not be used again.  it truly is a one shot deal) dries, it hardens into a dense foam that rivals 
styrofoam and is a great insulator.  Plus it plugs up holes.

So, today, imagine how fast I skedaddled from my lil nappage post when I awoke eye to uhm eye? 
with a reptilian critter today.  Sssssssssssslim SSssssssssssssslender, the snake, dropped by to visit,
very neighborly of him.  And I do mean neighborly in the true sense as he is living between my walls,
like the skink family had.  Once he realized that I was lesssssss than charmed (i'm sure), he
ssssssslithered back from whence he came, rather fasssssssssst.

SSssssssssssseee, it'ssssssss like thisssssssssss...

I have two sets of large windows in my living space.  The set behind Shaddow's ssssssofa
hassssssssss a rotted corner in the sssssssill and Sslim Ssslender came up through the hole,
wadded his entire sssssslinky ssssvelte sssself into the space and basssssssked in the
ssssssssssun. Except for one problem, the plastic is not used to that sort of stressss
and a few of the staples came loose and that snake just poked his head and uhm neck?
around the edge and peered at me til i woke up (cuz i get that 
don't-stare-at-me-while-i-am-sleeping thing, cuz staring at someone while they are sleeping
may SEEM cute and sweet and romantic, but it's just downright creepy).

I do live on a farm, but dude! i don't particularly care for critters to startle me when napping
and things like that.  no, can't be having that.  i mean, what's next?  are they gonna wanna
snuggle up to me for warmth?  no, no, and no, thank you.  i drawn the line at my
sssssssssspace being invaded to THAT degree.  i mean, there are a few privileged
critters that get to snuggle with me; shaddow, ziggee, and my guy.

i think that's enough.

ssssssssso there it isssssssss, that'ssssssss my sstory n imma ssstickin to it.

well, alright, then...

i was gonna skip this whole shindig-do but, since andi is trolling the red carpet, i thought i'd kick it up a bit...THIS is so me.



except, ya know, i'd bust my ass...in those killer boots...but virtually?  no problem!  oh, change out the black ribbon in the boots to match the russet ribbon in the corsetted dress, just for THIS J-Land-do.   no jewelry needed as anyone who knows me knows my tats are well-suited for this dress.

my ride?  buell blast, baby!

Commercial Dispatch, NAMI, and Me

If you've been wondering what I've been up to lately...wonder no mo'!  Sunday's paper features me, my story, NAMI, and even a pic of my lil Ziggee.  Check it out!

Occupying my time

whilst losing sleep.

Georgee Porgee puzzles me.

I'm gonna just assume that the story we've hear is true.  Georgee Porgee did kiss the girls.  They did cry.  Georgee did run away when the boys came out to play.

But, dudes, why?

Why did the girls cry?  Was Georgee's breath really that bad?  Perhaps the girls' tears were joyous.  It could be that Georgee's technique was THAT good.  We don't know.

Why did Georee run?  Was he afraid of the competition?  Or was he running to kiss the next group of girls before the rest of the boys caught onto his prowess?

What's the damn deal about the pudding and pie anyway?  I mean, what does that have to do with anything?  The pudding and pie are not referred to again, later.  Was it pudding and pie as in sweets?  Perhaps the girls cried because his teeth were decayed from the high sugar content.  But, maybe the pudding and pie were of the entry variety.  I know meat pies, shepard's pie, chicken pot pie, and other sorts of "pie" that are certainly not dessert oriented.  But, what does it matter in the grand scheme of Georgee's kissing spree?

I wish I knew.   Cuz maybe it'd help me sleep.  But that there Georgee, he doesn't kiss and tell.

caution: heat addles brains

I realize that we've been in the grip of extreme heat and humidity for about 3 weeks now.  I also realize that folks are a bit more irritable than usual.  Which must be why I've noticed that there seem to be more raging tempers, stupid and risky driving, provoking encounters, parents losing their cool with their small children...

At the public library yesterday, I saw a mother grab her very young toddler, shake him rather violently, and smack his thigh because he started to cry at being startled and shook.  I was at the counter, checking several books out, and the librarian stiffened and gasped.  I would like to think that we would have called her on it, or called the authorities.  But when the woman saw us gaping at the spectacle, she grabbed her son up and stomped out quickly.  Following her, well, that didn't occur to me...

At a store today, the man in front of me was making absurd demands of the employee.  The employee was trying to explain, and at no time lost control, although this man was obviously attempting to provoke her.  The calmer she remained, the more frustrated the "customer" became.  Eventually he too stomped away.  I did ask for the company phone number so that I could call to commend this employee for her even-temper in the face of such customer abuse.

Driving home tonight, a vehicle sped up, swerved around me, and then slowed to 35 mph in a 55 mph zone.  At times like those, I wish I did have a cell phone (which I loath).  I put my caution-light on, as I did not want someone to misjudge me speed and slam into me from behind.  The vehicle in front of me slowed even more so (if they were going any slower, they would have been going backwards) and edged to the right.  So I saw that I could pass and did so.  Immediately, this vehicle's high-beams were brightened and miraculously they sped up and stayed on my tail for a quarter mile.  Then they sped up and passed me, "poppin" at me when they were next to me, then swerving in front of me once more.  I noted the license's first 3 digits before they sped up.  I rounded the next curve to find they had slammed on their brakes and jerked into the oncoming lane, allowing me to pass in the right lane.  They swerved behind me and flashed their high beams for about two miles.  Just about the time I was slowing down to turn off the main highway, they sped up and passed me, cutting back into the right lane as a rig blow its horn in warning already shifting and hissing.  Totally uncalled for behavior!

So yeah, heat addles brains...

Ramblin' Man

The Allman Brothers' tune got it right:

Lord, I was born a ramblin' man,
Tryin' to make a livin' and doin' the best I can.
And when it's time for leavin',
I hope you'll understand,
That I was born a ramblin' man.

Bon and Mal Mott channel The Dark Rambler.  To truly appreciate this, you must begin at the intro and ramble at you own risk, use caution, I beg of you.  Repeat "it's only fiction" often to yourself, if you must.  Enjoy this work in progress.

Ethan Frome

Last week, at the public library, on the free-table, I saw a copy of Ethan Frome.  Being that I've never read it, I picked it up and brought it home.  Last night, I started to read it.

It's really quite good and not as hard to follow as I was dreading.  I've read some awfully heavy things this summer, Umberto Eco's "Foucault's Pendulum" and "The Name of the Rose" kept me busy through most of June.  I had to look up all sorts of things for Pendulum and Wikipedia became my good friend (Wiki to friends, that is).

Then I read some Amanda Cross which is a pen-name for Carolyn Gold Hieilbrun.  She wrote non-fiction under her own name.  She used the pen-name to protect her status in academia.  She was a very rich writer of the English language and sometimes plowing through her writing style was a challenge for me.

So next to those two authors, Edith Wharton is proving to be a real treat.  Her writing style thus far has been a refreshing breeze.  I may borrow some of her other books from the library.

Or I may try Eudora Welty.  She went to college in Columbus, the next town over to the east.  In fact, there are some talks ongoing, regarding changing Mississippi University for Women to something including Welty and excluding "women" in the name.  This is mostly due to the fact that men have been being admitted to the institution since the 70's.

Or perhaps I ought to try Thomas Lanier Williams III (Tennessee Williams).  His birth-place is Columbus.  The home is now the site of the welcome center.

Or ought I to give my attention to William Faulkner?  After all, he is a nobel prize winner.  I've visited his home in Oxford, just a few miles from my guy's place.  Faulkner was born in New Albany, just half an hour or so from Oxford, home of the University of Mississippi (Ole Miss).  He died in Byhalia, a small town southeast of Memphis, northwest of Oxford.

Or maybe you can recommend some good reads...?

NAMI Support Meeting Day

Tomorrow, Thurday 13 July 06, is NAMI Support Meeting Day for the Golden Triangle Area, including Columbus and Starkville, Mississippi.  The third point of the triangle, West Point, hasn't a support group yet, but coming soonish, it will.  The months seem to be flying by and really, between this meeting and the next, will be two rather large events for us.

At the end of the month, I'm speaking to the Foster/Adoptive families' retreat to be held at Itawamba Community College in Fulton, just east of Tupelo.  I'll also plan an informational table for that event.  I'm excited about that.

In the beginning of August, Starkville is holding its 7th annual Health Fair.  I'll set up an information table for that too.  Both events will focus on children and their care-givers so I will plan accordingly.

So, that's what up in this neck of the woods, NAMI-wise.  What about yours?

home, i like to be here, when i can

There's nowhere quite like home.  For quite some time, I defined "home" as the place I lay my head that particular night.  But, I've been living out here, on this farm, for four and a half years and I just feel more right here than anywhere.

It's my stuff, ordered the way I placed it.  It's my bed with my linens.  My soaps and my teas and my pottery that welcome me and soothe my senses.  It's my yard with my doggies romping.  My quiet days and silent nights and twinkling fire-flies surround me.

My rugs, my books, my curtains, my home....sigh...my home.

On the Susquehanna Banks

I grew up in Pennsylvania.  My father was a long-haul truck-driver when I was little and we moved almost yearly.  So I was very very familiar with North East and North Central and East and East Central PA.  People ask where I'm from, I tell em, the North Eastern Quadrant of PA.  I figure that covers most of my childhood.

I remember events and such by where I lived at the time.  That clues me in to my age and grade and gives me a year to cite.  Sometimes, people will remark on my memory.  It's mostly little tricks like that.  No real big mystery.

To finish my childhood years, we moved back into the house my grandmother last owned.  The house was an old home.  It went through alot throughout the years.

The town was the town my mother lived in as a young girl.  Catawissa was a small town, but I was a country girl, growing up in the boondocks.  So any town would have seemed odd to me.  It was constraining to have to be constantly aware of other households and not to roam about at will.

The town was bordered by water, in every direction.  There were seven roads in/out of town, each one crossed a bridge.  Some of the bridges were major, iron affairs, the grating whistling to a higher pitch the faster you drove.  Others were small covered bridges, the wooden planking rumbling as you bumped along the treads.  Railroad bridges with wide, sturdy concrete pylons squatted over Fishing Creek.  One-lane, short, flat concrete spans skipped over small creeks that had no discernable names.

Catawissa's main waterway was the Susquehanna River.  The northern and western branches joined just 20 or 25 miles south.  Wide and shallow in most areas, with the occassional deeper hole or pocket carved into the roots, under the banks, the Susquehanna burbled merrily over rocks or swept at a steady slow pace, providing varied grounds for fishing for all skill groups and ages.

Kids and teens would swim in favored spots.  The most popular was the Dam, on the eastern edge of town.  The town officials closed access off years back, but time was, it was a fine way to spend the summer.

I have many memories of the Susquehanna.  A long river with two branches, it seemes to meander through my life.  It made marks even before my time, that carried through into my childhood.  I grew up hearing and knowing the power of the Susquehanna.

In 1972, Hurricane Anges blew through, flooding homes, roads, fields, and street.  Dried up canals filled with rushing waters.  The devastation was truly amazing.  I was a baby, but my folks were visiting my grandmother (in the house in which I would later live).  The house sat on a hill that was on a larger slope.  We were just about at the top of the mountain, well out of the valley.  Yet the flood waters left muck along the porch and silt in the cellar.

Now, my brother lives in that area.  The lower portion of town is flooded.  The river hasn't crested yet.  There is nothing but rain in the forecast.  They predict it will be worse than Agnes of '72.

This 20 yr flood has been in the making for close to 35 yrs.  High water, my friends, is hell.  My thoughts are with you.

The Lawn, spatial relationships, and me

The thing about mowing is that I get to see immediate results.  Especially if I let the weeds grow up to thigh-high safari style.  But more so than immediate results, I can employ my creativity.  It's my yard and I get to mow designs into it, if I so desire.  But it's even more than that.

See, I can be somewhat manic at times.  Yes, yes, I know you'd never expect such a state from me, but there ya have it.  It's true.  And when it comes to mowing the yard, you can really see how that mania manifests itself.

I live in a trailer, with a fenced-in yard, surrounded by open fields of hay.  A good couple hundred of open fields, which are only interrupted by an occassional pond and a few old tall strong trees, roll gently over small swells and dips.  Really, they are too slight to be called HILLS and VALLEYS.

The plan is to mow the fenced-in part.  Then, mow a few mower-widths along the outside of the fence, along the parameter.  Then mow a small parking area and path to drive to it, and around the mailbox and the garbage can area.

This plan is not always implimented.  For instance, the first summer I had the mower, I got a bit carried away.  See, I would be trying to even things up and just kept mowing more and more (sorta like when I "even up" my hair, before ya know it, I'm bald, like now).  This isn't really a huge problem, except for two things.

One is that my landlords raise hay.  They like to have the tall hay to bush-hog and bale, to make big rolls of hay to sell.  When I get carried away and mow several acres, well that means that there is less hay to bale and sell.  See?

The other is, well, I get things on my mind.  And I can obsess and ruminate, and then obsess some more.  It will bug me til I actually DO something about it.  Which is why I have to set limits, very clear boundaries on what I will and will not do.

It even applies to mowing the damn yard.  I'm ok in the fence.  But outside the fence, things begin to get dicey.  See, I have dogs, so I mow outside the fence to cut down on bugs, pests, and fleas, ticks, mosquitoes and the proximity of snakes.  And field mice.  And cute lil bunnies.

Earlier this year, I mowed the yard.  I've only mowed once, but it took two weeks.  But I sure was glad and proud when it was done.  I didn't mow the lower 40, which was a huge accomplishment for me, cuz I really, really, really wanted to.  The hay was gently swaying, beckoning to me, taunting me, and I so badly wanted to go cut it down to size.

But I didn't.  I bested the hay, and boy, am I proud of THAT.

Sometimes, I section off my yard with the mower initially.  Then I execute various methods of mowing.  Thing is, my grass is so thick and coarse and dense that the patterns don't really show up after the entire thing is done, which is good, cuz otherwise I'd be getting out there and trying to smooth everything over.  And smoothing over leads to evening up and that leads to bareness (like my bald head).

If I am feeling particularly John Nash, then I know not to even start with the lawn mowing.  Otherwise, I begin to see patterns where there really shouldn't be any, and signs and significance where there really is none.  But usually I catch that mode before it gets out of control.

But don't mess with my books.  They are arranged that way for a reason.  My beautiful mind was busy that day and I rearranged my entire library, which takes two rooms of my home.  I have bookshelves that are floor to ceiling, custom-made, red juniper/cedar.  I like them, I like my books, I like my books on them, arranged just so.

Ya know, cuz I know, you wanna know

Today was the first time I visited Annie's journal, as she left a link in the comments of my "cho's" entry.  Annie is currently located in Scranton, Pennsylvania (I checked her lil map thing).  Plus it's in one of her answers to a question in the meme (I'll get to that later).  I am familiar with Scranton, and I'm fairly sure that the map (flicker?) placed it a bit too far north, so that the town looks suspiciously close to upper NY state.  Personally, I think most anything involved with the proximity of New York is suspicious in some form or another.  I have reasons for this, but this entry is not about my New York experiences, friends, and family members that hail from New York.

I thought that Annie works for Krispy Kreme Doughnuts, a southern staple that no law enforcement officer can live without their daily allotment.  But I was mistaken.  That brings the total to eight, as I have been wrong seven times before.  There was an eighth incident, years ago, but it turns out that the OTHER person was mistaken, and so it really only was seven times that I have been wrong, wrong, wrong.

Annie's screen-name is "krspkrmmom" and she notes that she thinks she may have a slight southern accent from dealing with southerners at work.  So, ya know, rather than back track and read the entire journal to gain familiarity with the woman, I just drew conclusions.  Cuz, I like to conclude.

That and her children are not named Krispy nor Kreme.  So, there ya are.  She MUST work for the Do-nut Dudes.

But alack and alas, sigh, not so.  She may have a krispy kreme fetish, or perhaps she worked with them in the past, or it is entirely possible that she has had nothing to do with the do-nuts and chose that screen-name for totally different reasons, unrelated to krisp kreme.  Cuz she works as an operator, for wireless assistance.  schucks, I hate being wrong, sigh.

Anyway, I have seen a meme circulating about and figured when I saw it on her journal that I'd go on and post some of the info, but ya know, as it pertains to me, cuz we all know that it is all about me.  Don't you go bursting my bubble or raining on my parade, now.  Just don't even think about it.

So in part, cuz I have no intention of answering questions that don't pertain, here are some tid-bits about me:

Do I have an accent?  Yes.  Every one thinks so.  Cuz I've moved around lots, over 50 times, and lived all over the country and picked up some of this and some of that as influences on my speech.  So I have a speech that is not attributable to any one particular region.  Friends from the North think that I have a cute southern accent.  Folks from the south squint suspiciously at me (I think cuz PA is next to NY and ya know, THAT'S grounds for suspicion right there), spit and drawl, "ya ain't from round here, girly girl, can't fool me" (which actually is a line from "Fried Green Tomatoes", but Fannie Flagg is from just outside B'ham, AL and most likely heard the line a few times from folks eyeing up them Damn Yankees that insist on visiting and then staying on).  Some of my speech is so painfully northern that it jolts and grates on the ears of those I am with.  Sometimes a southern drawl will creep (and really, how else would a drawl come into speech other than creeping?  zooming?!?  I think not.) in there and lull listeners into Alpha states (I refuse to think that it's boredom that is inducing a near sleep state).

Booze.  Can't do it.  Shouldn't do it.  But on rare occassions, will.  That's usually because I forget the LAST time I embarked on mixing alcohol with meds and genetic predisposition of alcoholism.  sigh.  But since my guy is a recovered alcoholic, I'm not often tempted, cuz it's not like he orders a few brewskis to go with his steak.  Frankly, back when I did drink, beer was not a favorite (tho I would occassionally indulge in Black-n-Tan, Rolling Rock (Latrobe, PA does not mean that the beer should be considered an import like Heinikein but I've several times come across Rolling Rock listed as an import, whilst here in the south, which I'd imagine in a loose interpretation, it is an import, ya know, from another state), Yeungling (my spelling is horrible, I think), and Purple Haze).  Mostly my choice of alcoholic beverages ran along the lines of Maker's Mark, frangelica, and schnapps.  Now, I fondly remember mud-slides and order swe'tea, no ice (most everyone assumes that I ask for no ice, because I am from up north, dudes, that's not it.  but it's not worth arguing over, so if you want to believe that no one north of the mason-dixon uses ice, so be it, delude yourself all you like, it's a fairly harmless little fantasy, indulge), extra lemon.

Detested Cho:  Below is an entry devoted entirely to this area, but in brief, bathing Shaddow.

Pets:  The cho entry and the above topic answers this, but here we go.  I have a three year old rat-cha, Ziggee, who joined my household a year ago.  A rat-cha is a rat-terrier (feist) chihuahua mix.  He is about the size of a small feist, with the markings of a chihuahua.  Ziggee is my cat in a dog suit.  I'm terribly allergic to cats, but adore them.  Shaddow has been with me since she was 2 months old.  She was my first doggie ever.  She's a black lab, small for the breed, big for a dog.  She's soon to be 5.  Sweet, gentle, good girl.

Hometown:  I spent most of my teen years in Catawissa, Pennsylvania.  Currently live above Starkville, Mississippi, going toward Pheba (that's pronounced, FEEE-BEEE).  Been here about 5 years.  Longest any one place ever.

Insomnia:  Yes.  I take meds to help regulate my sleeping patterns and to maintain good sleep hygiene.  Insomnia occurs when manic and mania is heightened by the lack of sleep.  SO it's an ugly, ugly state of affairs if this lil girl doesn't get her sleep.

Living Arrangements:  trailer on a five hundred acre farm, where there are also several other domiciles, including my landlords and one set of their parents.  Very peaceful, no light-pollution (excellent for gazing at the stars, planets, moon; but not all three at the same time, hard to see stars and planets when the moon's light is bright.), dirt gravel road that peters out just down past the milk barn.  Ideal for the pups and me.

Number of sexual partners:  currently, two (me and my guy).  I count me, as a partner, cuz ya know, I don't know how YOU do things, but I like me, and I show it.

Hospital Stays:  For myself, nine, I think.  Once when I was born; strep throat/scarlet fever when I was 8; five day stay for extensive testing due to head-trauma when I was 9 or 10; eye surgery when I was 11 or 12; kidney stones at age 22; thyroidectomy, age 29; head-trauma, 31; head-trauma again 31; and head-trauma yet again at 32.  The head-trauma are partially responsible for current medications.

Phobia:  Well, yes.  One of my diagnoses is Anxiety Disorder, due to the sheer volumeof panic attacks I experience.  Sometimes, I isolate myself to the Farm, because I cannot deal with leaving the house, driving, or crowds at wal-mart when needing food.

Detested Vegetable:  not fond of grits, but will eat them.  but for the ever loving rationale of my po'brain...who thought, heeeyyyy, pour some lye on these here corn kernels, dissolve the skin, and POOF! hominy.  and why oh why do people still eat this and serve it to others?!?

X-Rays:  yes, multitudes.  mostly for the head-trauma, kidney stones, thyroid, and back.  i've even given them to others, and no, i am not a radiologist no have i even been one, nor have i ever played one on tv.  i even ended up in the ER, because i sustained an electrical shock from a severed x-ray machine cable that was not properly capped.  that's better'n 220 jolt for large appliances and 110v for most household outlets.  i took the entire building's power and phone lines out.  the neighboring police station lost power and it kicked on their emergency generator.  and do you know, the nurse was so beside herself, and the EMT's would have taken way too long to find us out in Sipsey, that I drove myself to the ER?  I signed in and they said, holy shit, we've been alerted, you need to go right back.  good thing there was a chair to whisk me away cuz right about then, my legs gave out, my chest (which had been hurting the entire time) began to swell and redden, my breathing became irratic, and i began to babble incoherently.  it wasn't til i was released, and leaving, that i passed the EMT crew that went to search for me, they couldn't even find the clinic at which I worked and was jolted with x-ray juice.  was a good thing i drove myself, although, the other folks on the road that day might have felt differently.

Damn Skippee

"Life is a sexually transmitted disease and the mortality rate is one hundred percent."
RD Laing.

I am from Pennsylvania, but have been living in the South for over ten years.  I know, I know, sigh, a damn Yankee.  Which is a Yankee who decided to stay in the South, instead of going back up North.  Damn Yankee, they mutter.

Which brings to mind the definition of a yankee, I'd heard awhile back.  A yankee is similar to a quickie, but ya can do it alone.  That's a good one, I wish I'd thought of it.  Or at the very least, could remember where I'd heard it.

I'm betting it wasn't at the First Baptist Church.

It's all in your perspective

What do you see?

Young children cannot identify the intimate couple because they do not have prior memory, or a reference point, associated with such a scenario. They will usually see nine dolphins.  Can you?

Folks in these here parts

I live in a rural area.  Every now and then we get some real gems complain to the local politicians.  Like the other day, at the town meeting, a woman requested that the Deer Crossing sign be removed from out on Potlicker Road.  She said that they's too many deer hit and kilt and she didn't think it was a safe place for them to be crossing no mo'.

The secretary for one area representative was very irate.  She had plugged the power-strip cord back into itself.  She was returning it, cuz it wasn't working:  her system wasn't coming on.

Her husband is the chief of police.  I'd felt really dumb, cuz I locked my keys in the car.  But he told me to go on and do my grocery shopping, while he jimmied my car open.  When I came out to the parking lot, he was sweating and cussin up a storm, trying to get my driver's door open.  I opened the passenger's side and started to put my groceries in, and he said, "yeah, got that side open in about 2 minutes, it's the driver's side that's giving me problems."

Ya gotta love them Tennessee folks, ya jest do

A friend of mine was 'splainin some stuffs.  She's from up near Chattanooga and knows lots of them Tennessee folks.  She said that it was in the paper that a guy died and left his entire estate to his beloved widow, but she can't touch it til she's 14.  This was on the same page that said that they was thinking of raising the minimum drinking age to 32, so's they could keep alcohol outta the high schools.  Also, the school board was thinking of showing documentaries in classes so the students'd appreciate some local culture.  They going over the old shows of  "Hee Haw".   They's a new law that says that even after a couple gets divorces, they STILL cousins.

Then she tole me about the near tragedy, it were a shame really.  See the guv'nah's place burnt down 'n' it pert' near took out the whole damn trailer park!  But that wadn't the worst.  The librby was a total loss.  Both books--POOF!  Up in flames, n he hadn't even finished coloring one of em.

sigh, darn shame, twas.

oh, so THAT explains it!

Alotta folks jest don unnerstant, how come we have an oil shortage here in our country.  Welp, it's like this, see.  Nobody bothered to check the oil.  We din know we was gettin' low.  Shrug.

But see, there's a reason.  Cuz, our oil is in Alaska, California, coastal Florida, coastal Louisiana, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, and Pennsylvania.  'N' our dipsticks?  Why, they's in DC.

Cuz the bible said so, that's why!

Did you know it's a sin for a woman to make coffee?
Yup, it's in the Bible. It says . "Hebrews"

Q. Who was the greatest financier in the Bible?
A. Noah. He was floating his stock while everyone else was in liquidation.

Q. What kind of motor vehicles are in the Bible?
A. Jehovah drove Adam and Eve out of the Garden in a Fury. David's Triumph was heard throughout the land.  Also, probably a Honda, because the apostles were all in one Accord.

Q. What excuse did Adam give to his children as to why he no longer lived in Eden?
A. Your mother ate us out of house and home.

cho's?!? we don do no steenken cho's!

John Scalzi, the aol-journal godfather, has asked us about chores in this week's weekend writing assignment.  Weekend Assignment #117: We all have to do chores around the house. Which chore do you like to do the least?   Extra Credit: Do you recycle?

I usually keep up with things, putting stuff away as I use it, dropping dirty clothes in the washer or hamper when I disrobe, replacing books when through, taking out the trash when I check the mail, washing dishes as I dirty them, ya get the idea.  Of course there are a few chores that call for attention for a long time before I get to them.

I do like mowing the yard, once I get into it.  It just takes lots out of me.  A combination of medication, genes that make me paler than most albinos, and Mississippi sun is a disaster in the making.  All sorts of precautions must be taken if I do not want to suffer ill-effects while puttering around the yard.

But that is NOT the chore I detest.

I have two dogs.  Both of whom are short-haired, indoor dogs who enjoy the fenced-in yard for the shade, potty areas, and room to run.  They shed horribly.  I brush them outside, and yet, the floor is covered with doggie hair in abundance.  I sweep, but it is the cleaning of the rugs that is awkward.  I dislike this chore.

The chore that I HATE the most though is bathing Shaddow.  See, Ziggee is lil and I can man-handle him through the bathing process.  But Shaddow is a big girl.  She is small for a lab, but BIG for a dog.  Labs have two coats, and water-resistance adds to the utter joy of washing her.

This is the general undertaking of this task:  first, lure her into the bathroom.  Lock the door.  Lift, tug, pull, push, force her into the tub.  I should mention that I have already stripped my self.  Jump in the tub with her, hang onto her to discourage her from exiting the tub, turn on the shower and ruffle her fur to get her saturated.  Usually she is somewhat resigned at this point.  Labs love water, for swimming.  Shaddow will escape the yard to joyously splash in the swampee catfish pond down yonder, but resist a bath like a stubborn grimy child.

After I lather, rinse, repeat, and clear the drain of matted dog hair several times, I open the curtain and let her out of the tub.  Whilst I shower myself, rinsing off the multitude of Shaddow hairs that have stuck themselves to me as though glued, Shaddow is busy spraying down the walls, washer/dryer, and floor in the guise of "shaking" herself.  After I climb out, I use every single towel I own (except one) to dry her as much as possible.  I unlock and open the bathroom door, whereupon she dashes down the hall to rug-surf for a bit.  I proceed to use all but one towel to swab the entire bathroom down (thus accomplishing yet another chore, I call this "bundling chores").  Then, I duck back under the shower spray and finally use the remaining towel to dry myself.  Next, I wash all the towels and dry them, in several loads.  It is a huge undertaking to bathe Shaddow.

Extra Credit:  I recycled when I lived in PA and OR.  However, the South doesn't typically have recyling centers, pick-up, separate bins, etc. that is encouraging and conducive to recyling.  Starkville just recently opened a location for drop-off.  The location was highly secretive for the first few month of existence.  Once you found the place, you had to learn the schedule, which changes at random.

Last time I unsuccessfully attempted to drop off some things, I noted that newspaper ONLY was accepted on Tuesdays from 3a til 6a.  Other non-colored paper was accepted Thursdays from 5p til 5:30p.  Colored, non-glossy paper was accepted from 11a til noon on Sundays.  Glossy paper is apparently never accepted.

Clear glass, with no label, is accepted only on the third Thursday from 2p - 4p, unless it happens to be Thanksgiving or the moon is in the new phase, at which time, you just have to wait til the following month and hope that they have not changed the criteria.  Colored glass, non-alcoholic vessels, are accepted Sundays at 6:30p.  Glass that has held alcoholic beverages must first be cleansed in blessed baptist water by a certified sanctioned white, middle-aged, male who must be single.  Only then may that glass be accepted on the fifth Friday of the month.

Cans are never accepted for recycling, the assumption is that you have used them along with the rubber tires, entire vehicles, used oil, and batteries as lawn ornaments.  If you happen to live in an apartment or dormitory which has no yard, then you are cheated from employing your decorating skills and must simply toss the cans in the trash with the rest of your refuse.  Sorry, but that's just the way it is.

Starkville is employing the recycling program on a trial basis, to see if it is acceptably utilized.  Most folks will think that I am joking, but sadly I am not.  We also have a law which states that if you do not pay in full your solid waste disposal bill, you cannot renew the tags and registration for your vehicle.  They take this very seriously.