Tuesday, November 30, 2004

Bend Me, But Don't Break Me

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I knew the chimney needed cleaning. One thing has just led into another and it slipped my mind, until tonight. Mr. Mushy and I were standing in the kitchen at the kitchen island and something made me glance toward the livingroom and the fireplace. The firelight seemed too bright to me so I went to investigate. The fire had flared up briefly but had died back down to a low low burn, but that's not what caught my attention. It was the noise I heard in the flue. It's a noise I have always listened for since I was young. I had a good idea what was up, but I dashed out the front door, looked up at the roof and flames were shooting out the chimney. Damn, the flue was on fire. I dashed back in, yelled for Mr. Mushy. Sprout came charging out his bedroom door, Troll ran outside for the hose. Earlier in the day, Mr. Mushy had left the ladder leaning against the garage side of the roof because he had gotten up the lights for the front of the house before his meeting. Unbeknownst to me, Mr. Mushy had grabbed the kitchen fire extinguisher and dashed up the ladder, Sprout not far behind and Troll bringing up the rear with the hose. It wasn't long before Mr. Mushy had the hose on it. After helping to make sure the hose made it up there, I dashed into the house and shut the flue, something I SHOULD have done much sooner. The fire was soon out after I did that. Dammit. I should have remembered to do that much sooner. While Sprout and Mr. Mushy were watering down the inside of the chimney (thank the Lady for the fire retardant new roof shingles), I poked my head into the garage where the entry to the attic is. CB (the barn cat) poked his head out, blinking. After they got the fire out, they climbed up into the attic to make sure all was well there. We are extremely lucky. EXTREMELY. About 2 hours ago, Mr Mushy went up there again and dropped more water down the chimney. I think he did it to comfort me more than anything. There was still some steam/smoke coming out of there. About 5 minutes ago, Troll went out to throw out the garbage and reported back that there is no smoke. The fireplace vent has even cooled.

I've always said, you only have to hit me in the head once. Just once. The chimney sweep is being called tomorrow as soon as we get back from the vets.

The vet. Chief, Mr. Mushy's registered paint, the 24 yr old horse, is headed for the doc's. The last 2 months we have done everything we can to get some weight on him and it is not working. Today, I was out there, feeding him carrots and I can actually count his ribs and see his spine. Something is wrong. It may be West Nile. If so, there is no choice. We more than likely think it is old age. The same thing happened with our palamino, Ginger. I am resigned to the fact we will have to put him down. Chief has been a darling and done his fair share. He's been a pasture pet for the last several years. Chief and Mr Mushy use to go to the Aahmes Shriner Children's Clinics in the Bay Area. Chief loves kids. Chief also did the Rose Parade several years ago when the Shriners' Horse unit from the Bay Area were invited. He has been in countless parades, been part of the rodeo and Shrine drill team. He loved every moment of it. Lately he's been simply, 'the old man', the 'big dog' and pampered and loved. We don't want to lose him, but Life is funny that way.

Earlier this evening before the fire, kitchen sink pipe sprung a leak. Old piping. It wore out a small hole and water leaked out.. ARUGH. Tomorrow a trip to Home Depot is also in order.

FB's mom, who suffers from Wilson's Disease and needs a liver transplant, is back in the hospital. She has developed a blood infection and they don't know from where. She's in the ICU and no one but her husband is permitted in for now. Tomorrow they should know something.

How am I? My nerves are shot for the night. I won't sleep well because of the flue fire. I'll be fine after the sunrises on the morrow. I am grateful for how lucky we have been. Things could have turned really nasty. I'm not pushing my luck. Tomorrow is a new day and I'll feel much better about using my laundry dryer then. The Lady has been generous with Her Grace, I'm not about to test how far it will stretch. I am just very very grateful. She only needed to smack me once with that skillet to get my attention. I'm awake. I'm listening. I'm aware. I'll fix it, Milady. Now. Okay, on the morrow when everyone is awake and functional. For tonight, I'm pouring myself a relaxing cup of herbal tea... come to think of it... I'll fix one for Mr. Mushy too... then I'm crawling under the covers and staying there until the sun rises and shines through my bedroom window. Then it's time to hit the floor running. Lots to do..and trust me.. it's ALL getting done.

Friday, November 26, 2004

A Day Late, But Not A Dollar Short

Since I have been informed to rest today, here I am. It's probably not what was in mind when spoken, but I take poetic license. *grin*

Turkey Day:

My day started at 6am. We told ourselves we would cut back on size and volume this year since it was just Sprout, Troll, Mr. Mushy and myself. I thought I had actually, until I looked back at the kitchen after dinner was over. Who did I think I was fooling? It never fails to amaze me how I can spend all day in the kitchen and within a hour, dinner is over. Listening to the moan and groans of how much they ate and shouldn't have had a slight grin of satisfaction on my face. Dinner was a 3pm. Mr. Mushy put away the leftovers and even stocked the dishwasher and had it running for me by the time I surfaced from a much deserved nap. I refused to succumb to a little viral bug wanting to invade..well, at least until dinner was over. Apparently Pookie succumbed earlier Thanksgiving morning and the Grandson, succumbed today, like his shroom of a grandmother. I bet I got it from them..hazards of being a grandparent.

Things I am thankful for:

I have my general all around health. While I have minor complaints such as tripping over the granson's golf bag and smashing my good knee, it could have been worse.

Mr. Mushy's all around good health with no signs of recurring colon cancer. I am very thankful for the man himself. He is just what I've needed and not a day goes by that I am not shown that.

My Daughter who has a thriving family and marriage, despite it's rocky edges. She is growing into a wonderful woman I am very proud of.

My Grandbabies: Pookie who is smarter than whip and still going. She is a delight to this heart everyday. My grandson, who I shall from on after refer to as Topper. That boy goes and goes so much, I don't know if he's coming or going but he is a wonder to be around, even while I am pulling my hair out.

My Oldest Son who has found a wonderful woman who loves him as he deserves to be loved and to whom he can give his whole heart to.

I am thankful for my daughter-in-law and her parents who have accepted my son into their hearts and their home. They're wonderful people.

I am thankful for Sprout. There is not a day that goes by that I am not reminded of justice and fair play. He is the epitome of these virtues. He has always brought laughter into my life. He is always a gentleman, even when he doesn't want to be. I did good.

There is Troll. While there may be 15 yrs between us, we are as close as a brother and sister can be. I am grateful. There is shared and equal respect and love. I don't know what I would do without him.

The Fellowship of Camelot and thereby, Wolf Keep. There are so many here that have contributed to my growth as a writer as well as a person. Each one of you have given me something that is beyond a description of words. You all put up with my nonsense, my frustrations, my whining, moods good and ugly. Thank you from the heart.

And saving the Best for last, by which to savor lastingly, is the medieval knight of my heart, The Hawke. As Ever and Always, Milord.

Monday, November 22, 2004

Time To Go


Windsong


Life gets tough when you have to make decisions to let something or someone you've loved so much and so well go out of your life. It was hard for me to stand aside and let Sprout make this decision. I wanted so badly to protect him from it, take the ultimate decision out of his hands and simply be done with it because I know what he will do to himself. He'll wonder, he'll be hard on himself, wondering if he did the right thing. Money, for him, at this moment, was not a consideration but I had to make him see it must be to some extent. Had she been a younger dog, the issues and decisions would have been different, maybe. Tonight, as she lie on the livingroom floor, I saw the blankness in her eyes. The only time she acknowledged anyone was when she heard Sprout crying, even then she couldn't get up and come to him. I left him to decide. It took him two hours to come to terms that it was time. So, with great love and devotion, Sprout tenderly picked up the dog who has been his dog for more years than she was mine, and placed her in the back of Troll's car. He is going to sit with her to the end. Sprout has made that clear. She will be cremated and her ashes returned to Sprout. There is nothing that can replace Windsong in our hearts. However, in time, I am sure another little ball of fur will make her way into our lives and burrow itself into his heart.

This is Life.... in her saddness.. in her pain... in her glory....

And we are thankful....

Your Secret Christmas Name

Lucky Holly-Elf




*grins at Diana* Don't ask me where I find them, they seem to find me...Muahahahaha.



Sunday, November 21, 2004

Cheating Death?

Yesterday, all vehicles were out so I needed to wait for someone to come home before taking Windsong to the vets office..the last big sleep, then something happened to make me change my mind. I watched her struggle to get outside, take care of business then go find a spot under her tree and lay down. There was more animation in her at that moment than I have seen in several days. There is no doubt she has pain and my guess is cancer... been there..seen it before. It was windy yesterday and not so cold out. I watched her lift her head, sniff the wind with her ears pricked and her face animated. That decided it for me.

If Windsong had been simply a dog, the choice would have been easier, but she's not. She's first and foremost, a wolf. She has always acted that way. If she is going to die, she deserves to die under her tree with the wind on her face. I have compromised. If and when it comes down to the fact she can no longer control her bodily functions and it is so obvious that the pain is beyond anything she can bear stoically, then the consideration for a cold, sterile office table with a needle in her arm will become the forefront thought.

In the meantime, we are controlling her pain with medication. She still eats, drinks and functions. She's slow getting out the door and she lies on her soft doggy pillow in the livingroom and sometimes we have to carry her out or in. That's okay. She's family. She deserves being looked after. She deserves to die free with the earth under her, the sky over her and her family with her.

Saturday, November 20, 2004

WindSong

Loving. Sweet. Fiercely Protective. Boneheaded.

After 17 and a half years of moving from one place to another and giving up pets because it just wasn't economically possible, I got a dog or should I say a wolf-slash-dog cross. It was in December, thirteen years ago much like the day today is shaping up to be and in my heart of hearts, the same kind of day she is going to pass from. She is in pain. It seems to have come on rather suddenly.

She started out as *my* dog. We took walks, we did things together and she was one hell of a companion when I found myself facing the world on my own two feet with three children who depended upon me. She means so much to me for many reasons. We've been through a lot. She saw me through things, allowed me to cry into her fur or simply laid by my side nudging my hand for affectionate attention. I helped her birth her puppies, retrieved her from doggie prison, otherwise known as the pound because she had to run free.

There have been so many good times, some bad ones and now I sit here heavy of heart, with a lump in my throat because I have to do what I know must be done for her, let her sleep the last dream. I hate this. I don't want to be the one to decide it's time. One part of me says I don't want to, I can't. The other part says, you have to, it's the right thing to do.

Sprout is going to take this damn hard. Somewhere along the way Winnie decided that Sprout was "her boy". She took him under her wing and did all the things a dog does for a boy, especially one who is hurting inside because his parents had turned life as he knew it, upside down and inside out. She did what she does best, she nurtured. She went where she was needed the most. I can't tell you how many years now Sprout has been her boy, more than I can imagine. This is not going to come as a shock to him. We've talked about it for the last few years. Death still brings a swift and searing pain that no amount of preparing can teach you.

He and I will see this through. We owe her that. She can't even walk out of the room to go relieve herself. It's time. I want the coward's way out of this... I want her to lie down, close her eyes and go to sleep, never to wake again...

Sometimes.... you have the control.... sometimes... it's within your power to do something.... sometimes you have to do what you really don't want to do....

Lay down her life of service and love, tell her you love her... free her from the pain..let her run free forever more.. running free.... something she hasn't been able to do for years.

It's time.

Friday, November 19, 2004

My Frog Princess

Yes. Mine..mine..mine. I wanna her. Can I keep her, Ma? ....Okay, I'll share but only because I have to and ..and..it's the right thing to do..and because she'll make me.

For some of you out there reading this, I know your brow will arch and your lips will quirk and it will be like, " What the hell, Bobby? " Ah well. If you don't understand, you weren't meant to.

I will be forever grateful that I got to meet this Lady. It may be the last time we ever get to see each other in person, but I hope not. She is amazing. I stood in awe and I still do today. There is this..this.. presence, this depth, one senses about her. It kinda makes me feel inadequate in some sense. It's nothing intentional she does or says, it's something I feel. I don't measure up, but that's okay. I learn from her and that is a good thing and I really have no wish to be everything. There is a willowly, elegant grace to her I envy. I feel like an ugly duckling next to her at times.... I'm more 'earthy' and she's ethereal. There are times I wish I could know that quality, be that quality, but it isn't something you develop or become, it is what you are, what you're born into.....envious, I tell you but I'm certainly glad one of my friends have it and I'm allowed to bask in it.

Yes, I call her a friend, actually more than friend, she's ohana. We live miles from each other. We met over the internet. I am thankful for modern technology...every day. There are others who I consider ohana as well. These are the people I feel safe with, safe enough to be around even when I am feeling icky..blechy.. bitchy.. the whole kittenkaboodle of the humanic (is that actually a word?) state of being and trust me when I say that there are not that many people I say that about.

This morning, while I was idly sipping coffee, watching my email stream in, I saw an email from her. She's one of those people that I consider first on my list of people to read. It's not often she sends out email, but when she does, it's worth reading and absorbing. I have been fumbling around the last few days to speak my piece in places other than here and here has mostly been about venting my emotions. Instead, I have been finding myself addressing issues put on the table. I read her email and thought, " Here's your sign. " Hooah.

My Frog Princess..gotta love her and even if you don't.. I do.

Thursday, November 18, 2004

Flood Water and Musings

To say that I feel like I have been pulled under the strong undertow of Camelot would be a mild statement. I am trying to tread water and keep my head above the emotions of channel patrons and fellow channel ops, as well as my own personal feelings. While I might not agree totally with the Boss' decisions, I sincerely do see his point. It sure would be easier not to. *wry grin*. Well, it would make my life easier if I couldn't, but Life is not about always taking the easier road, sometimes it's about taking the higher one. Stepping outside of my own emotions about certain typists in channel is extremely hard but I do it, I don't want to, but I have to. My opinions of course are tingled by my own feelings... they wouldn't be my opinions otherwise, would they? I constantly ask myself hard questions about my feelings. I question my motivations as well. I defend the Boss. If I don't agree about something, I'm not about to say otherwise, but I make it clear, I do defend and support him. If I felt strongly objectional about something which is contrary to what he puts forth, I tell him how I feel. We've been together too long now not to respect each others thoughts, opinions and views. We don't always have to agree and sometimes we don't. If I have no alternative plan to offer to fix something, then I must accept his because what else is there to try? In situations like this, it's hunt and peck. Try it, if it doesn't work, toss it out with the bathwater and try something else. So long as everyone is open to trying, accepting or rejecting and that must include personal feelings aside.

Most people find the Boss opinionated. I agree, it's one of the things I respect about him. By the same token, I don't find him unapproachable or single-minded. Some things he feels strongly about. I also know he does not dismiss out of hand most things told to him. Depending on the source, he may take something with a grain of salt. Whatever it might be, I know he mulls it over regardless of how he might personally feel. Then and only then, if he still feels strongly about his decision, he'll carry it out..... at least that's my perception. Do his emotions sway him? Of course they do, whose doesn't? Certainly not mine. He is as human as any other person, as vulnerable, as guarded...*smile*.... as opinionated. Someone has to lead and one can't please all the people, all the time.

This time around, a lot of people are emotional, very much so. I think that's a double edged sword. The emotion tells us something is seriously wrong and we need to really look at it. It also clouds reasonable judgment. I having been asking myself why are we so strongly emotional this time around. The answer I have come up with is that the problems that started out as something very small and left unaddressed, have now festered into poison. One of the issues I ran into yesterday is that people seem reluctant to speak their mind. Reluctant or fearful? And what is there to be fearful about? Making waves? Losing Ops? Being dismissed at any rate so why bother because it's not going to change a thing? My answer to this is, because no one has spoken up, no one has said what the hell is bugging them, no one else knew there was a problem, not until the channel was hit was a huge wave of frustration that answered a chord in quite a few patrons. We have grumbled amongst ourselves instead of presenting a united front and taking it to the Boss. Resentments have built up to the point where there is the thought that nothing is going to fix this.

Since this is my blog, my thoughts, we'll stick me under the microscope. There are two people in channel that have my teeth grinding, we'll call one the Tainted Knight and the other, Knight Be All (KBA for short). Let's address Tainted Knight (or TK for short) first.

TK hasn't been around for awhile, a long while. When he has, he has made it explicitly known that while at some point he was a Knight of Camelot, he had ceased to be one so he might follow his own Code instead of the Olde Code. On one hand he thumbed his nose at Camelot's rules and on the other claimed to a friend to Camelot and that his blade would always be Hers. You can't have your cake and eat it too. You can't be a friend to Camelot without respect for what She stands for and Her rules. You can't flaunt those rules simply because it suits you and expect everyone or anyone to accept it. Now why no one has made an issue of this before, I simply don't know. Maybe it was just because he wasn't around enough to make it an issue. He came in, stirred things up and left again. In hindsight, he should have been held accountable from the get go because now, each of those little incidents has built up hidden resentment and tension. It was bound to blow out one day. Of all the Knights in Camelot, the majority have some sort of issue with TK. What does that say?

Dilemma: TK has recently asked for another chance to get back into the fold. It has been granted. Some don't think it should have happened. Personally, I would have been extremely happy if his arse had been booted out, never to return.

Stepping out of the box: How does one turn down someone who asks for a second chance to change and to be allowed to prove it? I can't honestly say I could turn them away. More than likely, I would have put 'im on a TIGHT rope.

What I see: TK is already showing signs of his old spots, of slipping back into ways he is comfortable with. I am not looking for a needle in a haystack here to convict him with. It glaringly stands out. Does an unwed Knight and an unwed Lady of the Court stay in the same dwelling together? It was mentioned, considered and not dismissed that's for sure. While TK was needled all night by a certain PoD (which is his norm btw) does that make it acceptable that TK at the end of the night, goes out to the stable, retrieves a horse he thinks belongs to PoD and giving it a slap on the hindquarters sends it off into the night? Human instinct for retribution? Perhaps. Knightly? Hardly. The thing is TK's typist knows next to nothing about PoD, who, does not travel by horse. TK is unsure of his standing in Camelot. He knows there are many who disapprove so he moves cautiously in some actions and deeds. Understandable, but maybe too cautious. Another matter that stands out is his referring everything to the most junior(newest) of the knights, while there are more senior knights present. By senior knights I mean those more seasoned. That is creating some resentment as well. I am not sure if he is doing this without thinking or is there some method to his madness, so to speak. Another glaring spot I noticed is that TK is the one who pushed the idea of taking a quest to the Shadowlands, even while others had reservations and I believe objections?

As for KBA, she has been all gun-ho about this quest. Now, after questions and conversations with the more senior knights, it appears she has some reservations about it. KBA's typist flies by the seat of her pants. Her research paperwork as a squire was easy stuff, I imagine but when one gets into the nitty-gritty of things, it's not so easy. She's having to back pedal, mainly because people are not letting her run roughshod or willy-nilly anymore. She seems to dive in head first and when she begins to flounder, having to answer for her headlong actions, the only thing seemingly acceptable is the right solution, all the time. She once said to me, when I called her on it, " Isn't that what you're suppose to do when you've done something wrong, try to make it right? " Yeah. I can't find fault with that, but in role play, sometimes, one errs and takes the consequences of the error instead of appearing to be god-like by having the right solution or at least one that negates what she did wrong, handy. Sometimes she doesn't look ahead at the possibilities of what her actions may cause. When punishment is handed out, she is this super person instead of someone who has vulnerabilities. It's almost as if the typist can't stand not having control, craves the attention and is not comfortable being vulnerable. To make a character believable, those very real human traits are necessary. She wants to be perfection and she leaves her partners with nothing to work with. The typist wants so much to fit in, she is trying too hard to do so. It is having the opposite effect, she is alienating people. I have seen people try to role play with her, trying to correct something but she either doesn't see it or doesn't want to. I have tried, nicely, to speak with her in private and while it may make an initial impression, that impression is soon lost.

One last knight I wish to address: Sir Don Quixote. He must rescue the maiden in distress. By that I mean the maiden who feels herself put upon....picked on by others... and not in a rp sense. He has tendency to take that and transfer it to role play. He has good intentions, he really does, in character as well as in real life. His main downfall is taking everything personal and then copping the attitude of, " Nobody loves me, everybody hates, I'm gonna go eat worms. " A martyr attitude is another way someone once put it. I call it cutting his nose off to spite his face. He came to me and asked me to please explain how he was part of the problem because no one wanted to tell him anything. I told him we all are to some extent. He pointed out how I hadn't said that before. I replied that he never gave me the opportunity to do so. Indeed, he immediately felt cut to the quick and wanted to cut his nose off to spite his face. I told him this is why I hesitate to speak to him about such things, even in the nicest way possible because I know this is how he is going to act. He says he hates the drama yet he is drama when he feels attacked, slighted or wronged. I refuse to babysit him. If you ask a question, be damn sure you want to hear the answer. He's a good person, truly. I have nothing against him personally. He has a caring heart.

When one goes off half cocked to begin with, then cools down and wants to be rational and when all that becomes a routine, instead of the exception, it's hard to want to meet halfway or want to participate in any sort conversation.

To finish off this blog... I am not unaware of my mistakes or my shortcomings. When I am frustrated beyond measure, I am blunt to the point of being seemingly rude. Take a swipe at me, I swipe back. I don't have the patience to babysit or play games. I cut to the heart of the matter. I speak my mind and my piece. I can be annoying and I can be hard. I'm as hard on myself as I appear to be with anyone. I might come off as high and mighty, but I'm far from it.

If you want my opinion or ask me for answers, ask. If you don't like what you hear, next time, think twice about asking.

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

Updating Camelot

Well, the Boss has come down with some new rules and some thoughts. I am hoping it is not going to be hard for those who have played in channel and felt chased off or do not wish to be in there, for whatever reason (be it personage or situation-usually those two are twined), are willing to give it another go. I know we've done this time and time again and we end up coming back to this place, but I know metamorphosis isn't always easy. Like anything else, if we give it a strong, rock solid foundation, then no matter what you heap on it, it will stand and since Camelot is formed on human virtues, she will always stand. I think one of the main malfunctions has been the lack of firm leadership. No matter which way you cut it, there will always be one or two that all the rest will look to for guidance. That's a hell of a lot of responsibility to heap on one set of shoulders. If there could be a few more that accept it, that are of clear like mind and willing to enforce policy than the responsibility won't always rest on one or two pairs of shoulders. Still, all said and done, there will always be one everyone looks to. It's just the way we are. It's what we're comfortable with.

I do believe that real life does interject itself. Sometimes, it's a matter or priority. While some may have a dear and beloved feeling for Camelot, real life and whatever it is that holds us there, has to come first and sometimes, that time schedule can not be defined. For some, it is an excuse and for others, it's just the sheer lack of energy. There is only so much energy to go around and it may well peter out before getting to the channel. I have always felt it is the quality not the quantity that matters. Of course there is the consideration of a strolling and the people one writes with to keep in mind. If my writing partner, after a long hard day at work, makes the effort to be there in channel and playing, how can I justify giving any less unless real life demands my full attention? I don't expect someone to give of their time everyday to the channel. That kinda says something about their real life, doesn't it? But how about an hour, two to three days a week? Surely that is not too much to hope for. It's an effort at something they care about and if they can't give even that, then perhaps they don't care as much as they say they do.

To find what we've lost or to develop something we all can live with, we've all got to roll up our sleeves and dig in. We have to make the effort. We have to take back what has been turned aside. If we don't, we have no one to blame but ourselves and we have no right to whine, complain, get angry or disappointed. The key words here are ALL OF US.

I think the Boss has put the new rules in plain English so we can all understand. Now, it's up to the Ops to be consistent in enforcing them and to have the confidence to enforce them. It also means allowing the knights in channel to first step up and handle the situations that warrant it and then Ops stepping in to do what they have the ability to do. The key here is the knights stepping up and doing what they know is right, by the Code they live by, by the virtues of Camelot they uphold. In the absence of the Knights, then the Ops need to step up. Why all the hesitation, I don't understand. Fear of a butt-chewing out, maybe? Unclear of the rules? Afraid of being the one that makes waves? I don't know. If I make a decision and follow through on it and the end result is that the Boss is going to bring his hammer down on my shoulders, well, so be it. I rather be guilty of doing something than not doing anything at all.

Damn... how did I end up with Joy's soapbox?

Little Pistols

My grandson. From the time he opens his eyes until they close at night, he is moving non-stop. No, he doesn't suffer from ADD. He's just a bundle of energy. The boy can focus. He loves computers and video games and he's only three. His mother keeps all that under control. If he had his way, he'd be playing video games from the time he wakes up until he goes to bed. She's having none of it. The boyo needs socialization and he's going to get it, kicking, screaming, whining and pouting, if necessary. He's always curious, always has to know what's going on and how things are work. I am surprised he hasn't gutted my toaster or some such by now.

For such a smart little chit, every once and awhile *shaking head and chuckling*, that boy does something that makes one sit back and laugh their butt off. Yesterday for instance. The phone rings and it's my daughter. She's not frantic, mind you, but I can hear the worried concern in her voice. Apparently she and the boyo left the house to pick up sis (pookie). The boy runs on ahead, Mom is yelling for him to wait up but up ahead is the electronic, black iron gate and it's slowly rolling on its wheel toward the closed position. Boyo just knows in his own little mind he can do this. He can beat the gate. So off he charges, he's going to do it. He can do it... and then... he hears that commanding voice of his mother's that brooks no argument. The one you just know you HAVE to obey or else. She tells him to stop. He does.... in the path of the oncoming gate and finds his head stuck between the gate and the post. The gate has a safety mechanism. It closes for about two seconds and if anything is impeding its progress, it opens again. The impediment this time turned out to be my grandson's head. Of course the boy is going hysterical and crying up a storm even Mom's efforts at calming are not working. Of course not. After all, it's all Mom's fault this happened anyway. If she hadn't yelled at him to stop, none of this would have happened. *chuckle* They go retrieve Pookie and on the way back, they need to pass through the gate again. Nuh-uh. Here comes the storm again. By the time they make it home and Daughter calls me, boyo has worked himself into near hysteria. In the meantime she is trying to get information out of me what to check. I tell her. She reports back the findings. I'm pretty dang sure he is fine. I know that gate and how fast it moves, which is a bare crawl. The boyo has some swelling at the side of his head, nothing a cold pack won't help, but everything else seems fine. I advise her to keep an eye on him though and administer something for that headache I just know he has to have. If she can get some cold on that swelling, that would go a long way to helping. I also tell her what to be on the lookout for. By the end of our conversation boyo has been bribed by a popsicle to forget his crying and he is taking advantage of it by trying to get Mom to let him play his video game. The popsicle she concedes to, the video game, well, the boy is plum out of luck on that one.

Smart little cookie that one. He takes the popsicle and sits down to watch some Sponge Bob.

Sunday, November 14, 2004

A Tear Worth Shedding

The general sense of direction that Camelot has been heading toward does not sit well on many shoulders. The question is, who's willing to step in, put their shoulder to the grindstone and actually do something about it. I sense uncertainly in some people, the uncertainly of where the boundaries are and what they can speak up about or whether or not they should hold their tongue. I have held my tongue long enough. I have sat and watched (the majority of the time) from the outside window into Camelot. I have watched it get worse, not better. Speaking up is probably not going to win me any popularity contests but I never did care about those. My complete focus has always been about maintaining the integrity of the channel and the values behind it.

I have been accused of being 'high and mighty'. I deny it. I might be too single-minded at times, but if it doesn't make sense to me, I'm going to eventually let it spill forth. I don't necessarily get my way about any one issue. I don't expect to. What I do hope is that whatever I have to say, gives pause and makes one think if even for a moment. That's all I ask. By the same token, I listen, I mull over again and again everything else said by anyone else. I give it the respect it deserves. If I still disagree, I still disagree. There is always room for compromise or even acquiescence on my part. I am but one small voice. However, that voice gets a wee bit louder when there are others who feel the same way. I've always been one to toss the cards on the table, hide nothing, and play them as they fall. So long as I am respected and not simply dismissed for my thoughts even though they aren't agreed upon. I give as good as I get. Sometimes, I've even been known to give more.

In this case, something apparently is NOT working. However we've handled things in the past in regards to the channel is not working. More and more people are feeling alienated and when that happens, it's time for change. We can allow people to come in and run roughshod by believing we have no right to alter their concept of Camelot, but what about the rights of the others? What about the ones who have given much of their time, their years to the channel? What happened to them and their loyalty...what happened to their playground?

Here is my thought... a channel is formed with an ideal in mind by the Founder(s). People of like mind stay, nurture it. Others come who see things differently. Should the channel change it's shape and structure to nurture them too? I say no. Why? Because cyberspace is vast. There is no reason why these others can not go start their own little Camelot and have at it. There's nothing stopping them. It's not as if this Camelot does not 'stretch' a little, it does and that's not such a bad thing. What is a bad thing is when the channel is left to these newcomers and allowed to run amok all in the belief of their right to their vision of Camelot. Again, I say, if you can't play by the channel's rules.... go play elsewhere. We like it just the way it is and I'll be damned if I am going to roll over and play dead just to make them happy.

There is little joy in Camelot these days. There's no incentive to make it a happy place. Those things can be had once more.... one just has to believe.

And BT, wherever you are, we miss you and it's just not the same without you. Come back soon.

Amend What?

Leave it to the people of California to come up with the idea. I, too, reside in California. I was raised here. Please don't assume that all people here in California feel the same way. The further south you go, the more liberal people become. Here in the North State, we're pretty much conservative.

For those of you who are unaware, apparently some in this state are trying to drum up some interest in having the Constitution of the United States amended so that foreign born citizens can run for President. Our current governor has stated he would be interested if the Constitution were amended. Don't get me wrong, I think that so far he is doing good things for this state and I don't doubt he could do great things for the nation BUT there is a reason why our Founding Fathers put together the Constitution the way they did. While some things need amending to adhere to today's world, some things are basic, logical and compelling to safeguard our well being.

Will I ever even consider amending the Constitution to allow foreign born citizens to run this nation? Hell no. That is one of the safeguards set in place to protect us. People can be charmed and won over. I shudder to think if something like that should happen. I shudder to think of what would become of our freedom if some foreign born person should find themselves running this country. No amount of background checks, no amount of sorting through a person's life can suffice to make them a safe bet in that presidential chair.

I don't see it coming to fruitation at all and our governor will just have to kiss off that dream in this life time. We can accept him into this country, we can accept him into our lower structures of government and it matters not how heartfelt is his loyalty to this nation. The bottom line is, he's foreign born and will never sit in that presidential chair or be allowed to run this country.

To the bleeding heart liberals to the south I say, " Wah. Go get a life and do something constructive with it. "

You know, sometimes working in the box is actually a good thing.

Thursday, November 11, 2004

Veterans Day

I am thankful for today's technology. It allows our current fighting Armed Forces to stay in touch with their loved ones back here. How I wish we had had that opportunity back when.

My ex-husband (husband back then) served in Desert Storm. I served in the Red Cross, Service to the Armed Forces. Everyday for 4 years I was responsible for making sure verified communications between the Armed Forces and their people got through. I lost count of how many death notices I had to pass along, how many loans to servicemembers/families I had to process, how many briefings I gave to servicemembers heading off into heaven knows what, how many H&Ws ( health and welfare) reports I did. There were many a phone call made to our office by concerned and sometimes frantic military spouses. We did the best we could to calm them. We sent msgs overseas when permitted. At the time, we were the only link, aside from the unit itself, between members and spouse.

Like I said, I am thankful for technology today. Servicemembers are using chat programs to chat with their wives. Emails zip through the cyber highway at the blink of an eye. It is good. Yet, sometimes, not so good. We hear the bad news a lot faster too. Some things though, never change. The plight of those left back here to wait and worry. The avoidance of the news because no one wants to hear, let alone see something. There is merely the ticking off of the days on the calendar until that servicemember returns home. Each night, perhaps each hour, is filled with a prayer for safekeeping.

And is it all worth it? I guess that depends on who you talk to.

Tyranny is a disease. If left unchecked, it spreads, violently. We all thought Hitler was a vile man. Today, we are learning that there are many more out there and many of them worse. Tyranny eats away at basic human rights, deserved and belonging to all. Someone has to stand up and say, " Enough. " Someone has to stand up and be willing to stop them. If no one does, it will spread. I don't think Americans as a general rule can afford to look at the short term nor can they afford to stick their heads in the sand and ignore the ugly, ruthless nature of tyrants with huge egos. There can be no more of pretending that no one would dare to strike at us. We all know that is no longer the case. Before, it never happened because, well, that's anyone's guess. Now days, they simply don't care. They truly believe they are being oppressed.

Freedom is not free and thank the Lady for people who have put their lives on the line for making freedom ring and Thank You to all the people who have sacrificed their lives so that their loved ones can still hear it... can still live it....

I also want to thank all the children of today who pay their respects to the men and women who have gone before, in wars long before your time. It means a lot to them that you honor them. It means that what they have done in the name of freedom was worthwhile and appreciated.

I know it means a lot to those who serve now that you think of them, pray for them and support them. You all are the future of this world. Those who have fought before, secured for you, what you have now and those that fight now, do so to secure your future.

I thank the Divine that there are still noble people in this world.

The Zoo

As most of you know, I have a zoo. It use to be a combination of kids and animals but as the years have gone by, it's been more about the animals than the kids. I have often pondered in a sane moment if that's such a good thing. I have learned that with kids and animals, when things happen, you learn to roll with it, deal with it and keep on going. This allows you to retain at minute amount of sanity.

Let us begin with last night. My evening routine usually begins around 10 pm. The kitchen gets cleaned up. I make sure all the food items from dinner are secured, make sure the dishwasher is loaded, wash whatever can't fit into the dishwasher, make the coffeepot up in preparation for the next morning. When all is said and done, I fix a cup of hot herbal tea for Mr. Mushy and myself. I have found we both sleep better doing this. This whole routine encompasses no more than 20 min. Tops. Thank you, Fly Lady. Sometimes, this routine is broken due to roleplaying in Camelot or perhaps an evening sitcom on TV I enjoy. It is not broken up by the harsh sounds of a kitten in distress.

I had let the old lady of the house ( our 13 yr. old wolf-cross) out to do her thing before bringing her back in for the night. I heard a distressed kitten but at 11pm and even with the backyard motion light, I couldn't find it. Mr. Mushy wears these headphones to hear the tv so I knew I couldn't get is attention unless I went into the house. I didn't want to do this because I wanted to stay on the trail of the kitten. So I pounded on our bedroom window until I got his attention. I think I dang near broke the glass. I asked him for a flashlight and when I got it, I finally found the kitten.... up the oak tree in front of me....waaaaay up there. It was D-O-G( or Dee-Oh-Gee if you prefer). Here it is about 11 pm, rain is starting to come down and we're outside trying to talk this cat down out of the tree. Neither Mr. Mushy or myself can climb up there, it's too high even with a 10 ft extention ladder. After about a half hour, we gave up. I went out there a couple of time to talk him down to no avail. Finally, on the third try, rain is beginning to pour down now and armed with an umbrella and flashlight, I am out there, in my nightgown and telling the dumb cat to go back the other way. Apparently D-O-G thought he could jump on the roof of the house. He got too far out on a thin limb (smaller than a pencil width) and I knew it was only a matter of minutes. I just muttered something moments before that the only way that damn cat was coming out of that tree was to fall... and that's just what happened. His cries became something akin to " I'm dead..I'm dead... I'm dead." Well, he wasn't. He landed in Pookie's sandbox turned planter. I picked him up and two very wet critters made their way indoors.

Think that was the end of the 'excitement'? *snort* About 3 am I am awakened up by the most AWFUL rotten smell. I tried waving it away in my sleep, but it prevailed. *shudder* It smelled like something had gotten dug up, something that had been in the ground for days. I cracked open an eye and there standing on my chest, is Bubba aka Cherokee, a stinking Cherokee at that. I fended off his doggie kisses and at one point, I grabbed the squirt bottle. He hates that thing. Before he jumped off the end of the bed, he looked back at me with a woe begotten look of, " You don't love me anymore and what did I do?" Ugh. I slept with my squirt bottle.

Mr. Mushy and I were catapulted out of bed this morning by the serious, non-stop, barking of Bubba in the backyard. Great. Now what? Looking out the bedroom window, I heard Mr Mushy yell, " No. " before shooting out the bedroom door and in the wake of his protest I made out the words, " my geese ". Rut-oh. Now what? Looking out the window myself I saw Clifford (Pookie's golden retriever/wolf-cross) ripping huge amounts of feathers out of a goose's back. Before I could get a move on it, Mr. Mushy was out there and secured the goose. I think we're going to lose it though. Apparently last night, neither of us remembered to secure the back gate. We have the feeling that the goose (who has been the escape artist of late) got herded by, you guessed it, the herd dog, Bubba.

Here about an hour ago I was checking my email before I started in on some paperwork. I smelled something awful. It took a few moments for that smell to register. Bubba! Yep, he was curled up beside my chair and stinking to high heaven. That was it. Time for a bath. So Bubba got loaded up into the bathtub, looking forlorn and unloved. No sympathy was coming from either Mr. Mushy or myself. I reminded the dog that this was for sticking his damn head into something he shouldn't have. We figured out that the dogs, in their romping around, had overturned an old trash can we had forgotten about. It had all kinds of icky, nasty smelling things in it. Bubba, being Bubba, couldn't resist sticking his head into it. By the end of this morning there were still two soaking wet critters, this time it was a dog and yours truly. Bubba is easier to be around now although he still has a lingering nasty smell that will fade hopefully by the end of the day and yours truly is probably cleaner than the cat and dog put together.

And here I was hoping for a quiet day. Yeah. Right.

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

Smaller Image


Since the image stored for the last post was bigger than my blog space, I reduced its size but as you can see, it distorted, but it allows you to actually get an idea of how many states I've been to and how many I haven't yet. Yeppers, curtesey of 17 years with good ole Uncle Sam. I've only been to one other country besides the US and that was Greece. Hoping to remedy that one of these days.

States I've Visited



create your own visited states map
or check out these Google Hacks.

Friday, November 05, 2004

Rat Fuzz!

*grin* I always hate it when I miss my role-playing/writing partner online. I just happened to glance in the net window and apparently something is amiss as my mirc husband and his men have rather abruptly left the Hall of Camelot. He keeps me on my toes, that's for sure. I am never quite sure where a story will lead or what's around the corner. Fridays are hard for me to be online. I usually have the grandchildren for the evening and I keep the oldest one overnight. So, as one can imagine, my time is hers. We've started a new tradition, she and I bake cookies, from scratch, every Saturday before she has to go home. It makes us both smile. Daughter doesn't usually bake and hardly ever from scratch. That's okay. That's what grandmas are for. I can't wait for December to roll around as we'll be baking all sorts of cookies. Some are to share with neighbors and friends and some are just for family.

Gosh, I'm exhausted. I think part of it is mental and emotional stress. It seems like I have been in a whirlwind all week. There has been something that needs seeing to everyday. I got lucky and claimed yesterday for myself, but ended up making up for it today. Good news is, my creative muse is churning. Depending on the weather this weekend will determine if I have time to settle in and write a bit. I started on something last night.

FB, got his license back today. Talk about getting it on the wire. He has to go to court on Monday to prove he has it. He's been flying under my radar (good boy) and the only aggravation has been that he waits until last minute to do anything and there's always the off chance he'll miss the deadline. He hates confrontation. I understand that. It's not my favorite past time either but sometimes, you just have to stick your courage to the sticking point and get it done. Insightful man, Will.

Sprout has muscles out of whack in his back. I think he either hyper-extended them or he pulled something. The kiddo hates being anything less than fit. Yours truly has been applying Ben Gay and for once it's not on myself. Amazing, isn't it?

Mr Mushy has been doing okay. So far, he has been doing his best to address the issues between us. Some days are good and some not so good, but we keep at it. Things have a way of getting better when you keep trying. At least I can admit that the tears in the shower have been fewer of late. That's something.

Aren't you all lucky? There's only mundane stuff to report and no soapbox.. a few deep thoughts, but I'm not ready to share yet.

Wednesday, November 03, 2004

And It's About Damn Time Too

It's all over except for the oath taking, the election that is. Anything else is never truly over, is it? In a nation divided, make no mistake in believing otherwise, popular vote or no, will our re-elected president be what's right for this nation? Only time will tell and probably only in reflection.

My personal opinion is that in this given moment of history in the making, he is the best choice given. He's not a stupid man and I hope, he has learned something from all this and that is he must find a way to compromise without overstepping his principles. He can't just ride into Dodge and announce he's going to fix it, no one can fix it based solely on their own principles. We're a nation, together we stand and together we fall. He must weigh his own personal principles and beliefs against the majority voice of the rest of us and find a compromise we can all live with. If he thinks he won this election because people trust him, he better think again. He won because because of who they couldn't be sure of. If he thinks he won this election because the majority believes in his principles, he better think again. He won because there was no clarity from the other side.

I partially believe the news media when they say that a Republican won because this nation is heartsick, as a whole, due to "divine" principles. There is the loss of family unity and the supposed loss of Divine principle. There's some truth to that, I just don't happen to agree with all of it. Economics has a great deal to due with the lack of family unity or the lack of Divine unity. Humankind has to expand their thinking to accept that Divine unity comes in a wider range than they are comfortable with. Economics need to improve so the masses can turn their focus back to their families. It's of hard to do so when you have to worry how to pay the bills. Humankind needs to learn that Divinity is personal choice and that each of us needs to worry more about tending to our own house and let others tend to theirs. The right to personal choice is what those men and women are dying for over in Iraq, what men and women have died for through the ages. Let's not worry about what our neighbor believes in, let's concentrate on making our own families wholesome again.

We don't need the current administration poking their noses into how we believe, what we should be believe nor should they try to set it in stone by adding amendments to the Constitution of the United States. Nor should we have a nation with no guidelines. The voice of the majority may not set well on the tongues of others. The only way to change it is by education and education begins with a voice.

The current administration must always keep in mind that this great nation of ours was founded on dreams, not one dream, but the multi-colored ribbons of dreams of the masses, each one different, each seeking their own peace and tranquility. We don't have to understand each other. We don't have to agree with each other. What we do have to do is respect each other and acknowledge that our dream may not be someone else's and we each have the right to live our dream, peacefully.

And that's the end of my political soapbox.........for now.

Tuesday, November 02, 2004

I'm A Klutz

You know those pronged things used to roast marshmellows in a fire? I have one. Luckily for me, the pronged side was in the vase. A few moments ago, I reached down to retrieve a small oak log for the fireplace. I didn't see the oak handle of the marshmellow roaster sticking out. I found it though.... with my left eye. Oh yeah, baby... I jammed that handle into my eye socket. I can still see out of my eye. There's a bit of swelling and a minute amount of internal bleeding there.. and Ohhhhh, baby, does it hurt so good....NOT! *snort*

I'm going to finish the cleaning and go to bed...where it's safe.... I think.

From The Inside, Out-Final

Now what brought all this reflection to the fore one might ask. Well, I'm going to expound. *grin*

This house has a lot of memories in it, mainly all good. I grew up here. It's a pain in my tush from a homeowner's point view. Years and years of neglect have made repairs necessary. We get to them as we can and pray for the rest to hold out a while longer.

Maybe we didn't spend money wisely at times. Maybe I didn't need to help my family out as much as I did. It's money that could have gone into the house or put up for a rainy period. I wish I could be like that. My family comes first and I have learned valuable lessons because of it. Guilt is a great motivating factor in doing the wrong thing for all the right reasons. In retrospect, I probably should have let my kids find a way to make it on their own instead of making it easier for them. To their credit, they are very appreciative.

This house is maybe 1700 square feet. Small huh? My father added on a little room off the kitchen which serves as our office and once belonged to my sister and I as a bedroom. I can't have family gatherings here because the house is far too small to have the children and their families all at once or even one family at a time. I do miss that. We manage. It could have been worse.

I have my health, my husband, my children, my brother all have their health. They are each productive in their lives and Mr Mushy and I strive to remain so. We all love each other and help each other out when we can, the best way we can. Mr Mushy currently gives more of his time to the community. There was a time I dedicated my every waking hour to it as well. I did my part. We both have. Aside from a rough patch with the economy and thereby with our company, we've done alright. We are alright. I would love to have more room, a better kitchen and good solid bathrooms again. We'll get to it. It just takes time and hard work.

My daughter as well as Troll are forever teasing me about writing the abc network, Extreme Home Makeover, about this house. I have forbidden them to do so. It is one of my favorite shows and when I see the people they help, how can I justify, let alone put in a request for myself? I can't. My problems are small things. The people on this show that this fantasic crew helps? Well, they need it more than I do. They deserve it more. I am not even in their league. My problems are so much smaller than theirs. I am not as selfless as these people are. I wish this idea had been around when Mom was alive. I would have moved heaven and earth to get them to do something like that for her. She deserved it. She was selfless, giving and loving at her expense. She's gone on to a better place and as for me.... well... I like beautiful things as much as the next person, but my little hovel in this grove... well.. it's been nurtured with love, respect and honor and one day, it may just be torn down and all the memories and the things it has represented to me over the years will be forgotten, but by then, it won't matter either, because I too will have gone to a better place and Lady willing, I will have passed the legacy on to my children.

From The Inside, Out-Part 3

Home. Wow. What a disaster. I know this place wasn't exactly a palace when we left, but wow. In most instances, there was more work to do recover than what needed to be done when we left. Okay, maybe in hindsight, it was equal. The one thing that hung over my head was the house and land taxes. They had gotten behind because of the lawyer fees we needed to pay to get guardianship of Troll, which, btw, didn't come to be anyway. The soon to be ex promised me he would make sure the taxes were paid before he jet totally out of our lives. He might be an ass, but he was not without his good points. He went into truck driving and I got his money until the divorce was final. I wish I could say the divorce was nice and civil but it wasn't. We got through it. I got a part time job at a local attraction, the water play park. It was all I could get at the time. Jobs, even the ones I was qualified to do, were not available at the time. I busted my tush. I make a damn fine addition to any employment company. It's something I am proud of. I didn't make alot of money but it was enough to round out what I got from the ex. It was tough and it was rough. There were nights I sat up worrying about how to feed the kids. We got through those times. I got my back taxes on this house paid off too. In the meantime I am trying to deal with Sprout who doesn't like his routines messed with it, let alone the fact that his dad no longer lives with us. All the kids were good kids. They knew their dad was an alcoholic, but he's still dad, you know? I ran interference for him. I made excuses for him. That all stopped when the kids were grown and able to make decisions for themselves.

This place was still in bad shape. I couldn't afford to get help. We made due. It was home and by this time I understood the magnitude of what Mom sacrificed to make sure it was here for us. My older two younger brothers had lives of their own, families of their own. They weren't going to give me crap about living here or what I did with it. I had paid for everything up to this point and I still continue to do so. Lady only knew where my sister was and so long as she stayed out of my life, I didn't care. Troll was and is the only one I love and respect dearly. I would and will do anything in my power for him.

For three years I faced my fears of being alone, of coping alone, of managing alone. Then one day, by way of the internet, I met Mr. Mushy, another story for another day. He moved in about 3 months after we met and we married a year later. We pulled his business together and made it start to produce. It doesn't make us alot of money but in the 9 years we've been together, we managed to put a new roof on this old house. We fixed a sagging and nasty main bathroom floor, which sadly needs to be done again due to a water leak. In the course of 9 years my two brothers each took out loans for cash on their interest in the house and defaulted on the loans. At one point there was a notice on the front door that this house was up for sale at auction because I couldn't cover the loans. The same company that gave them the loans gave me one too, to cover payment on the defaulted loans. I now have a 30 year mortgage. Oh yes, when Mom died? She had an insurance policy through the mortgage company that paid of the outstanding balance on the house should she die. So when she died, this house was free and clear.

I was never so scared in my whole life. The thought of losing the roof over my head. My middle brother never told me he took out a loan. He never informed me that he never paid on the loan and they were foreclosing. Instead he was phoning them from Iowa trying to get them to loan him more money. The oldest of the three boys took out a loan a year after I got the mortgage to pay off the middle brother's defaulted loan. He swore he would pay it. Yeah. I girded my loins. It wasn't long in coming. This time my breath wasn't swept away but it still had me on edge until the auction was over.

Troll owns one fifth, my sister still owns one fifth and that scares the hell out of me, not Troll but her. When the company was doing well and a second company was showing promise I had hopes of buying my sister out until the second company was lost. I still have hopes of it. It's just going to take a lot longer to do so. I also plan to buy Troll out too. He doesn't mind. He knows he'll always have a home here if he wants it.

From The Inside, Out-Part 2

Losing Mom was devastating. She was visting us in Idaho, where my now ex was stationed. Mom always told me, when I asked, that her doctor appointments went well and that all was well. To this day, I wonder. We had lost my maternal grandfather to cancer about three years earlier. He had come to live with us when I was still in high school. He was a card and a whole other reflection for another time. He was Japanese, a second generation native Hawaiian and worked on a sugarcane plantation in Hawaii.

After Mom died I went to her regular physician back here at home, the reason for which, I can't remember now. They didn't seem too surprise by what killed her and that has always made me wonder what Mom never told me. I have my own ideas. Mom was a heavy smoker all her life. We lost her in an Air Force ER room. Her heart had burst open. I have a feeling it had to do with her arteries. Looking back, I see all the symptoms now and like always, I wish I had recognized them back then. She initially survived the first heart attack was hospitalized for three days and the second or third day she came home to us in Idaho, was the day she died. The hardest thing I ever had to do was go home and tell Troll that Mom wasn't coming home. He was 16. His whole life changed. He had lived in our hometown all his life, had the same friends, attended the same high school and in a blink of an eye, that all changed. I remember when I sent him off to high school in Idaho. I felt so sorry for him. He knew no one there. He was like a fish out of water. I couldn't protect him from it but I sure wished I could have.

It took me years not to blame some part of myself for my mother's death. A girlfriend and I had been going to the gym to work out and Mom wanted to come. No worries. We worked on Natilus equipment and Mom kept wanting more weight because she couldn't feel her muscles working. Of course, they were. We also used a steam room and Mom couldn't do that for very long without getting dizzy. Dummy me, didn't think anything of it. Mom was Mom, dying was not an option for years. I did all the what ifs later.

My sister is not the brightest crayon in the box. She never has been. On one hand she has a naivete that still remains to this day and it allows her to have a big heart and on the other hand she would turn on someone, even her own flesh and blood and bite the hand that fed her. The rest of us siblings always wondered if she wasn't wrapped loosely if you get my drift. She stayed in the house because it's all she has ever known. She got a job and we got her a car so she could go to work, make some money to live off of and to pay the normal bills, phone, electricity, that sort of thing. To make a long story short, the electricity got turned off, she lost her job as a maid in a local motel for stealing a watch and we ended up turning the car back in because she couldn't make the payments. The car was in awful condition. Now what to do. I ended up carting her with us to Hawaii and as if that wasn't enough, I didn't even know she was pregnant at the time. That's another reflection and one we won't be visiting.

Hawaii is not cheap. We couldn't live on base because my husband wasn't stationed there at the time. He was pulling a remote and his follow on was to Hawaii. Trust me, there is another whole story in this one and who knows if that will need to turn out at some point in my life? So we ended up in a little three bedroom condo, my three kids, Troll and my sister with her yet unborn child. We managed. I found work and Troll went to work at a small store after work. Most of his money went into the family pot along with most of my husband's money and of course, mine. We managed until the husband got over his year remote tour and came to Hawaii. Living became easier once we got base housing. Things even started to become lively for Troll. He made friends at the local high school and at work. It made me happy to see him finally being happy. In the meantime, I rented out this house to a family friend who had several kids of her own and was on welfare. She couldn't afford much in rent and this place was falling apart so in exchange for her fixing it up, she only had to pay rent in the amount of $100.00 that increased minutely over the years we were gone with the understanding that we would give her 30 days notice when we needed the house back because we were coming home.

My sister and I had a falling out after she had her baby. I sent her packing back to Calif. I paid her airline ticket. I got accused I learned later, much later, of trying to take over her baby. I wanted to raise him. Nothing was farther from the truth. I had my own problems to contend with, my marriage was falling apart and I needed major surgery, a partial hysterectomy.

In the end, I served my husband with the intentions of getting a divorce once we got back to the mainland. I came through my surgery fine but my recovery time was not without mental scars of what I endured from the husband. The kids and I were coming home. Finally.

From The Inside, Out- Part1

Fair Warning, People....
This may well turn into several parts.
It's musing from the inside and spilling out.


My Touchstone. I never realized she was until after she was gone, a shame really, human, certainly, but a shame nonetheless. Perhaps, that's all part of youth, not the realizing of mistakes, the ignorance or being just unconscious of doing. Youth is filled with fire and glorious ideals. Maturity doesn't necessarily take those away, but it does give them a more realistic look. My mother is my Touchstone.

She was a product of her environment. Back then, the ultimate goal in life was to marry and have children. Back then, a woman didn't work after she got married. So it went for my parents. My father didn't want my mother to work even though she would have liked to. It just wasn't done and his ego certainly wouldn't have held up under it. She did what she was suppose to do. She stayed home and raised a family of six if you include my father in that equation.

My father. After graduating from high school he went to work with his father in construction. At some point thereafter, my father joined the Coast Guard and ended up serving a tour in Hawaii where he met my mother and married her. They had me. Before my first birthday we were all living back here on the the mainland in Los Angeles. My father went to work as a groundman for a school district. My parents went on to have 4 other children, one more girl and three boys, although the last boy was a "Surprise!" Mom wanted another child, Father didn't. To this day, I think it was the impending appearance of my youngest brother that pushed him over the edge, that and a mid-life crisis.

When we got our first house in LA, it was in a lower income area, not all that bad, but it sure wasn't middle class either, that came later. I can't remember when we moved but I sure do remember the house. 11337 Benfield, Norwalk Calif. We had two orange trees in the backyard and for one Christmas, my paternal grandfather built my sister and I a playhouse. That playhouse was so sturdy that it was still there years later when we were ready to move north to where I now reside. I adored my paternal grandfather, a big, silent man. He quit school when he was in the 6th grade and went to work. That man could add a column of figures faster than anyone I have ever known. He was self taught and he could build. Man, he was good with his hands. Eventually he would build his own home, which still stands behind mine. He built this one too, I believe. I remember he could play poker and he astounded me. He always seemed to know what others had in their hand.

Sometime around my 17th year my parents divorced. The bottom of my mother's world fell out. She had no training to go back to work. She had 5 kids in school, even if she could go back to work, she couldn't have afforded the childcare. My father had always worked either as a groundman for a school district or in his last job before my parents split, he worked as a warehouseman for our local junior college. He didn't make a whole lot of money and there was never any to spare. My siblings and I always had clean clothes to wear and every year we had at the very least, a new pair of shoes and one new outfit. Maybe it was the idea of having that last kid that pushed him away, maybe it was the mid-life crisis, maybe it was both. In any case, they split after 17 years. My mother held out for child support and in exchange for alimony, she got the property and an old truck. She didn't know how to drive, didn't want to, but I could and did.

Mom couldn't and didn't count on my father for money and rightly so. He is now 60 and is still paying the state of Calif back for back child support. My mother swallowed her pride and went on welfare. There wasn't a whole lot of money leftover after bills and food for anything else, but we always managed. Mom was an " on sale " coupon shopping guru. Oh yeah, and if there was a radio contest to be won, you can bet that 85 percent of the time, she did. I remember a time when she had several turkeys piled in the freezer because of those radio contests.

I look back and my heart damn near breaks for all the trouble and heartache I put her through. The things she did and accepted just to make sure her children were taken care of. She went without alot. She often would tell us kids she wasn't hungry at dinner time so we all could eat our fill. I would see her much later nibbling on toast and telling me that was all she wanted. She got tons of hand-me-downs from heaven-knows-where, for herself and for us. Until the day she died, I hardly ever saw her wear something new, although by then I had gotten her some new clothes. She use to fish through trashcans and would find perfectly good winter jackets for the boys. She collected the soda cans she found in there to turn in for extra cash. Mom had a pantry and every time she found a sale on stuff, she bought it and stocked that pantry. Mom would go to yard sales, accept clothing from her church, anything that allowed her to use her money in the wisest most economical way.

This house doesn't have it's central heating any more. Mom couldn't afford to fix up the roof and all the drafty leaky places that would let the heat out. She warmed this house using our fireplace. She didn't even use electric heaters because she didn't want the electric bill to go up. In the summer, we get temps of 100 plus. She used blinds and a ceiling fan in the living room and an ocassional table fan. The swamp cooler, the main cooling system, was only used in extreme need. I remember damn cold mornings in the winter when we scurried to the fireplace to warm up or hurried to be the first in the shower where there was an abundance of hot water. Otherwise we used thick heavy blankets.

After their divorce, Mom never slept in the master bedroom ever again. She slept, when she slept, in the livingroom on the couch. Mom slept in spurts and napped in the afternoon. She never remarried, never wanted to. She did use the time to travel. She and Troll use to take the Greyhound bus wherever I and my family lived or to my brothers' houses. She spent a lot of time with Troll as he grew up, going to school functions and on field trips. Everyone loved my mom. She may not have been the smartest dressed but she had such a loving heart and was to the end, down to earth.

Mom did everything she had to to make sure this property was secured so that any of her kids, in the time of need always had a place to rest their head and call home. She didn't have a will but we were lucky and because the house and property value wasn't all that high, it simply passed into the hands of her children. I handled all the legal paperwork myself. It took me awhile to do it. Money wasn't exactly pouring in by then. Mom had left debts, we had things to pay for, including getting her ashes back to Hawaii. My husband back then and I also secured a car for my sister so that she could continue to live in the house while we returned to Idaho with Troll in toll.


Love My Whip. Hoooo, Baby!


sydney savage


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