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May 1, 2001

I've been quite busy away from the keyboard lately. That explains why I haven't written much at all over the past few weeks.

This past weekend marked the start of lawnmower season. The grass got its first cut since last fall. So... here we go. The season of the big yard is upon me. Let's hope the tractor and all other mechanical systems and implements cooperate. Of all the divergences I enjoy, that is the least desirable. But... as predictable as the unpredictable is - shit does happen and shit will happen.

The first major trimming was completed, and, the resulting brush pile was reduced to ash. The dogs ran around for over 6 hours on Saturday, Sunday and Monday. After being out for 3 hours or so, Tasha has suddenly decided that she is NOT going into lock-up. Booda is happy to be in his home, especially when he knows he's getting dog bones. Tasha is getting her own mind and we don't appear to agree on a thing. In fact, she's been quite the little snotty bitch lately. Here is my neighbor, outside, in her yard planting flowers and preparing areas to plant. Here is my dog... barking in her face. She won't shut up. Not even for me. Booda is standing silently near the neighbor and Tasha is keeping a little distance. Surly look on her face and a continual bark. Like she just treed a rabbit or something.

Damn. Get used to it. She lives there. She has a right to live there. She has a right to be in her yard. Get over it, OK? Your territory does not extend here.

As I move toward Tasha, she begins to back away from me while looking at me out of the corner of her eye. I try talking to her. NOTHING. I yell at her. NOTHING. I chase her... she runs back into the yard. I had the urge to beat her ass, but, I didn't. She got the finger-in-your-face scolding. She sat and looked back and forth at first... eyes cast away... she knew what she did. She knew I didn't want her to do it. Yet... she STILL had a defiant little smart assed look about her as she tried to lick my face after the finger waving.

Both of the dogs decided to swim in the ditch over the weekend. I caught them there paddling down the center of the murky water, looking much like matching muskrats. They clamber out, shake off and run toward me. They are full of dirt and smell like ditch water. Yuck. Fetid ditch water. And, when you look at their faces... you can actually see exactly how very happy they are. They are flashing all of their new canine teeth. Their smiles are so wide I can see their back teeth. Panting and smiling. Proud of the newfound stench.

The wooden gate in the courtyard has been built. At nearly 6 by 6 feet square, I assembled it inside the house on the floor in the rear of the wing. That done, instantly, I grew impatient and carried the gate out of the house and installed it by myself.

It didn't matter that this object was rather heavy and dangerous to move alone. I did it anyway. It didn't matter that if the weight of this thing began to fall toward me, it would knock me down. I suppose that I didn't care at the time. I don't recall thinking about that until later.

There's proof that sometimes stupidity could be confused with determination.

May 5, 2001

"OK then... get on it," she said. Sharply in a " k i d d i n g " kind of way... promptly before saying, "... good bye." Saying it all with such explicitly sweet intonations. I know. . . . . I heard it. . .

But... who? Just WHO am I talking about... wellllllllllllllllllllllll none other that the enigmatic M. Subtle words of wisdom drizzle from her at times. They do. They really do.

So... as a result of my own acknowledgment..., "me ‘bin slackin'."

Uh - huh. Yep. So very true.

I haven't been writing. I KNOW THAT. But... suddenly... it becomes a damn big deal.

Well....... hmmmmmmmm...

I suppose I should be recording what has been happening. I mean... that WAS my intention. Initially it was. Otherwise as the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months and the months into years... well... you know - you'd forget all of these details. You'd forget where you were at in your life, in your head... etc.

Yep. Even I admit it. I vowed I'd write with regularity.

So then...

What happened?? What caused me to fall off?? Easy enough... I got busy. Very busy away from the computer. It's the same old song and dance. I get busy elsewhere and I don't make the time to do it. AND... the computer has been touchy. Like every time I touch it, it goes into backlash mode complete with error messages and lost data. Lost e-mail, lost writing... all of that equals an irritated me.

Lately, my mind has been reeling... I've been thinking about things I hadn't given much thought to before. And... what has caused me to wonder about so ... about SO.... so many, many, many different things lately. HUH? Well I'll tell ya. What goes around come around.... and the answer is none other than

She gets me thinking. Some people simply have that effect on you. Not everyone has that effect on me. In fact, hardly anybody. . . . . . . And.... as I am certain that YOU know EXACTLY what in the hell I am talking < ok.... politically correct: what I am WRITING.... > about. SOME PEOPLE GET IT.

WHAT am I thinking? So WHAT have M and I been talking about?

OK... I'm thinking that my life will change dramatically when I move 2,000 miles away, so, I'm now thinking about switching gears midstream and going back to school. It would be a good time to make a career change. I am seriously considering going to school to become a teacher. An elementary school teacher.

Of course, because M is a teacher, it would be great to have time off in the summer together. A big plus. The other factor is that I really do enjoy kids, especially kids in that age range. At the elementary level, they have an innovative view of the world and of their place in it. Another bonus: they make me smile and sometimes laugh out loud. Plus, from my own experience... my elementary school teachers made a tremendous impact on my young life.

Now how cool would THAT be?

Very.... very, very.

YEAH.....

Because while I certainly do enjoy my handyma'am activities, it contains a lot of physically demanding work. While I know that I will always use the skills I have learned in this area, I am not certain that I want to do that for the remainder of my working years, especially for other people. I want more interaction with living things over inanimate objects. I want to be fulfilled differently. I want to make a difference differently.

I can't begin to tell you how much of a difference M has made in my life thus far, she's had an incredible impact on me simply because she believes in me. Something as plain as that has already made my life a happier place to be. As my horizons have expanded, the possibilities are endless. To have that kind of support is truly a wonderful gift of love.

Thank you M. Thank you for being you.

May 7, 2001

anticipating
Monday. 60 days until M and the kids arrive. 2 months left of a 5 month wait. I can't wait to see them. Waiting is so damn hard.

contemplating fears
In my spare time, I'm freaking myself out wondering if I'll be able to get all this work done here by the time M is ready to move. Periodically, feelings of being completely overwhelmed haunt me. There is so much to do and I'm currently having trouble balancing regular maintenance along with sorting out my things and home improvements. My biggest fear is that I won't be ready. While sometimes I feel like these feelings are necessary anxiety driven fears, other times it seems like my reality. It's a fact that if I don't complete the home improvements, I will significantly reduce the equity in my home. I can't afford to do that because I can't afford to lose money on it. This is especially critical because housing prices are much higher where I will be relocating.

I've been pushing myself mentally again, and my sleep has been affected. I'm waking up several times during the night and having trouble getting back to sleep when I do. Of course, some of what I worry about is baseless nonsense, but, other things have taken on some looming implications. Today, when I talked to M before she left for work, she expressed a concern that I hadn't heard before, at least - not quite this way. That is, that she hoped she wouldn't have a problem getting on the plane this summer. She's worried that I'd be "mad" at her if she didn't.

Wow. While I knew she had anxiety about flying, which I believe is normal, it never occurred to me that she might not be able to do it. WHAM. I felt like I was punched in the gut with those words. Would I be MAD? No. Would I be disappointed... of course. My immediate reaction was that I felt like I wanted to cry, but, I didn't.

What didn't help was M's company yesterday. A woman that she previously worked with that she hadn't seen in a handful of years was in town, along with her husband, and they spent the afternoon there. The husband spoke about his son's paralyzing panic attacks, and, about his own experiences with severe panic attacks. The woman expressed her fear of flying and... relayed some flight panic herself... now how could this NOT affect M? Especially since she had already expressed her own concerns. While I'm sure they talked about other things, this clearly played into her own fears.

Hell... it makes me feel like I should fly out there to fly back with them. But... I doubt that I could even get a ticket for the flight they'll be on. That's impractical. I guess that I shouldn't worry about it. Whatever happens will happen. That's the way it always is, whether I worry or not.

Other stuff...
I have been meaning to mention here for over a month now that Cass and I have revived our friendship, and, I'm not pissed off at her anymore. She ended up paying me for the phone bill and I told her to forget about the rent money. We don't see each other or talk that often, but, now she has Mondays off like I do. She called me yesterday and told me that she had to teach in the morning and that she was going to come over after she got out of school at 11 a.m.

OK... so it's 3 in the afternoon and I have not seen hide nor hair of her, and, she hasn't called. I REALLY HATE THAT WHEN PEOPLE DO THAT SHIT TO ME. It always makes me think the worst. Like something bad happened. Today, it has me pissed off because she KNOWS how that bothers me. I mean, if something came up, then fine... call me and tell me. Don't leave me here wondering if you are alive. Don't leave me fucking hanging.

Funny thing is, yesterday she called me from her new cell phone. Called to tell me she got the phone from the company I had been telling her about.

If I had known she wasn't going to show up, there were a couple of errands I could have run today. I didn't leave in the event that she showed up. I have a conscience that wouldn't allow me to do that. In fact, if I am going to be more than 15 minutes late for anything... you CAN expect a call. If you don't hear from me then something IS wrong. I like to follow through in regard to the things I say I am going to do. I value the fact that I am a reliable person. It matters to me.

I didn't get Cass' cell phone number yesterday. I figured that I'd get it when she came over. But, I did leave her a message on her hard-wired voice mail. A message to call me when she got the message.

Today I was looking forward to talking to her, as she said she had a lot to tell me and... I was curious. A little background here is in order: before I left to see M... Cass was going through a personal predicament. That is, she thought she was straight and, she admitted that there was this guy that she had a crush on at work.

OK then.

It didn't matter to me that Cass decided she might be straight. It didn't matter at all. I cared about her - I still do - and I want her to be happy. Everyone would like to be happy, wouldn't they? Well... I told her that I would support her in whatever she decided. After all... that's what friends are for - support.

Well... after I returned from my trip to see M... things had really soured with Cass and guy #1. After that, there was guy #2 and guy #3... brief and over.  Then, there's guy #4. A guy that she's known since she was in school. A guy she's always been fond of, but, in the past... he was much more fond of her than she was of him. Then, she told me one night that she had always loved this guy and that she thought maybe there was some future with him. He doesn't live in this state but, they've been talking all about their feelings for each other and he is due here for a visit this month. The plan was that he was going to spend a few days with her. About 10 days ago, she was looking very forward to his arrival.

Sooooooo.... last week, on Monday - her birthday - was the last time I saw her. I took her out to lunch after we did some shopping and she told me that there was this woman that she was interested in. A "straight" woman. And.... I only paraphrase straight because she doesn't sound that straight to me.

Last night when Cass called, she was out of town and calling me from the mall. This is the same town the woman lives in. OK. So, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to ask, "so... are you with her?" and pretty much know the answer is going to be YES. And, it was. So... then I say, "...are you spending the night there?" and, of course, the answer was an excited, YES. "Is the train going full speed ahead?" Well..... YES. So... I'm grinning and shaking my head at the fact that she's been as excited as a school kid about nearly a handful of people in the 3 months I've been back.

Hmmmmmm... that in itself is nearly a reason to worry about her. She wears her heart on her sleeve and jumps square into situations without much in the way of reservations. That can be dangerous.

Regardless... I do hope she finds whatever she is searching for. Except now... I wish she was searching for the phone to give me a courtesy call. That would be a polite gesture... but... I'm thinking that she isn't thinking.

For me, today could have been better. On the bright side... it isn't over yet.

May 10, 2001

Long day at the office today. Sometimes that 10 hours seems like 20... it must be the counterbalance effect of those days that fly right on by.

I'm feeling happy at the moment. Very happy. The future is full of promise. I'm excited about life. Even though I know I have a TON of work ahead of me here at this house... I'll do my best to get the mission accomplished, and, try to sneak in a few moments here and there that I can call my own.

I find myself feeling great about the prospect of going back to school and uncovering a new direction in life. Not only that - but, I'm excited about moving and making a new life with M and the kids.

Over the past several days I've been saying goodbye to my house. Just practicing saying goodbye to it. It's only fair that the house knows how I feel about it. Somehow, I think it does.

Everything is greening up outside around it. A solitary crimson tulip sprang up in the flower garden begging to be noticed. Of course I complied and paid it the proper homage by inspecting its grace closely. Lilacs hang and synchronize with the wind, sending the sweet smell of the lavender clusters my way. What a gift my senses are today. I am acutely aware of my surroundings and my senses.

The dogs get a release pass and we go for a walk around the paths. The pathways are becoming what I had envisioned years ago... mossy and welcoming... soft underfoot. I surely will miss this place. The birds are thanking me by building nests and raising their own here. While they teach their young to fly, I am sprouting wings of my own.

As easy as it would be for me to stay here, I feel pulled away. A strange sensation for someone who was always so damn sure she'd be here for whatever her forever was worth. Historically speaking, I've not been overly impulsive in my life... at least, not in the way of BIG impulsive decisions. But, I guess I don't see this move to be an impulsive one, despite the fact that it could definitely be construed as an uncharacteristic act if you know me and are looking on the surface.

What's happening here is something deeper. Something meaningful. Something so hard to describe. But - something that feels so right.

It's amazing what I've learned here. I've  accomplished things through this experience that I could never have previously imagined. But... what I've learned will go with me and, I am a better person because of the experience. I am MORE than when I arrived on the scene.

Change is good, but... it can be tough. So... here I am ready and willing to face a new challenge knowing full well there are further demands in the shadows. I'm ready for it.

My eventual moving on is the right thing to do.

May 11, 2001

wah wah wahhhhhhhh
For whatever the reason, I have been having difficulty uploading my web updates periodically over the last month. Today I couldn't access the site at all. NBCi must be tweaking the site again. They never give you notice of this, you notice when you try to log on.

So... if you are having trouble, rest assured that it isn't the fault of your computer or anything that you are doing. It's nice knowing that something isn't your fault, isn't it?

yah yah yahhhhhhhh
Last night I made reservations to fly out and see M and the kids in October!  I feel better knowing that I won't have to wait for another 5 months to see them after they come here in July. This 5 months is feeling like a very long time. Looks like I'm on my way to becoming a frequent flyer. Until I move that'll most likely be the case.

May 14, 2001

Tasha and Booda are stealing things from the neighborhood. Practically every time my neighbor puts a dish out for the old dog, Crash - they pick it up and bring it home. Moments ago, I looked out the window to see that Tasha has a football. Where she got this, I do not know.  Last week they brought a few flowerpots home. While the flower pots could be from the retired lady next door, I seriously doubt that she had a football.

Now that's all I need. Unrepentant plundering Pit Bulls.

May 16, 2001

Damn. I'm still having trouble uploading updates to the journal. I don't know what the deal is... you can most likely assume it's NBCi.

It certainly can't be MY fault. And - I'm not blaming YOU either. It has to be THEM < now I know why some people blame everyone but themselves... it's sort of fun >.

So, here I am.... home again after another 10 hour day of brain wracking activity at the office. I feel remarkably well for someone who got 3 hours of sleep last night. Tonight I intended to be low key. Hopefully I'll sleep.

So what have I done since I've been home? OK... I'll tell ya.

I fixed a telephone problem. After spending several hours last night checking all the telephone wiring and junction boxes, I determined the problem must be on the interface side. The side that belongs to the phone company. I thought about this today at the office.

After talking to M for a little while < before her meeting > on the one cordless phone that was working, I let the dogs out and played with them for awhile.

One part of the circuit coming into the house wasn't functioning at all. The answering machine and caller ID was out of commission. I mean, I could have disconnected the answering machine and the caller ID and moved it to the working leg of the line BUT... that was hardly the point. It was bugging the hell out of me trying to figure out what the problem was. It HAD to be fixed. Because I said so, I thought so, and... it was annoying me even from a distance.

The entire problem seemed to be connected to a second line that I recently had disconnected. Hmmmmm... seems I remember the tech guy jumping a couple of wires on the interface when that was installed. I had an idea...

... I grabbed a couple of small screwdrivers, took a phone from each line and opened the interface box on the side of the house. There it was. A bunch of wires. A bunch of little wires. Connected to various color coded posts that you could unscrew with a slotted screwdriver.

It didn't take me long to scratch my head and think... WHATTHEFUCK!?!? And, it took even less time to start loosening one of the posts with 3 wires attached. Hmmmmm... the red one looks good. We'll loosen that. There we go. Then, we'll loosen this green one. Pull one of each color off the post. Ummmmm.... WHADYA DO THAT FOR?? I dunno. BUT, I turn on both of the phones and notice that the one that the one that WASN'T working suddenly WAS. With both phones on, I finally discovered a way to arrive at the double dial tone.

The whole job took less than 20 minutes. Ahhhhhhhh.... another case cracked.
 

Wooooooo damn hooooooooo!!!

May 17, 2001

overused words
Sometimes I become aware of a word that I am abusing and overusing. It turns into a situation akin to "there's a song in your head and you can't get it out"... you know?  Lately, there's been this word. A stupid and silly little word.

I've begun to use this word in a variety of ways. I've become highly aware of it springing out from my mouth at seemingly random moments.  I know just how stupid that is, too. Like, you try to refrain from saying it, but, that stupid little word comes right on out.

And... it is soooooo stupid really to have an awareness of the frequency of things uttered in the first place... isn't it?

I mean... aren't there plenty of other things to focus on?

Things like:
world hunger, the price of gasoline, the weather, rolling blackouts, acid rain, the latest disaster the media is pummeling our way, rolling hills, Janet Jackson's new album, the weeds in your yard, the weeds in my yard, shopping, getting the oil changed in your car, listening to birds, the Pope's health, the color of the season, cloning, recycling, fashion trends, writing a letter, industrial waste, doing the laundry, scratching, daydreaming, getting dressed, reading a book, wildfires, department stores, making a decision, Firestone, fixing stuff, talking to God, watering the garden, talking on the phone, walking, ironing, controlling your road rage, pondering the death penalty, looking at the sky, imagining how you might die, planning dinner, playing with your pets, deciding which stock to buy, sweeping the floor, flying, wishing your thighs were thinner, recalling a childhood memory, charity, genetic engineering, trying to decide what kind of mood you're in, the Palestinian army, Jon Benet, the ethics of politicians, the smell of grass, exercise, the sound of a cricket, life as a fish, multimedia, dusting, the cost of asphalt, biohazards, vegetables, defects on the wall, the Oxford English dictionary, your heartbeat, birdhouses, big tricycles with baskets, the right to life vs the right to die, Shakespeare, reality TV, that shopping list, good posture, washing the car, buying chemicals, puddles, your dreams, the sweat on your brow, castles, the color of the soil, Elizabeth Taylor, caulk, lipstick, vacuum tubes, medical marijuana, leaves on the trees, embezzlement, degreasers, kissing, artificial limbs, cookbooks, preconceived notions, formal attire, the last time you were sick, Christmas, fate, tornados, the size of your tires, transplants, the U.S. Census, ducks, what you'd do if you won a million dollars, brushing your teeth, playing music, Egyptian artifacts, the streaks on your windows......

......oh....... I could go on and on and on and on.
.
.
.
.
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And, I did.
.
.
.
.
.
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Now if that isn't stupid I don't know what in the hell is.
 

May 20, 2001

Busy weekend. Don't have time to write...

May 23, 2001

The days fly by.

After they are over they do anyway.

Not when you're waiting and waiting and waiting. Then, time seems to slow down.

It's 44 days until M and the kids get here. You should have figured I'd be whining about that again and, well.... I didn't want to let you down.

There's something to be said about listening to someone else whine. Someone other than you.

And... when I'm not whining I'm working. Sometimes I think-whine while I work. But, since you don't hear it, it's not nearly as effective. The whole point in whining is verbalization. For the most part, whining to yourself alone in your head can lead to cranial pressurization. And God only knows where in the hell THAT could lead.

It might not be pretty. And, it sounds like it might hurt.

I'm on the whine and release program. I whine and I release it, and then... take it back to use again.

Most of my whining is predictable. So... don't say you didn't know that I was gonna write this.

You're smart enough to have seen this one coming.

May 24, 2001

Some day... I will have more time to play.

I keep telling myself that. I tell myself that because play is an important part of life. It's relaxing.

It's quite sad when you get to the point where working becomes relaxing. When the familiar drone of a power tool becomes a comfort to your ears. When figuring out how to build something you first see in your mind becomes a game. When challenges and labor rule your play.

Essentially, I want my play time to change. I want to experiment with my creative energy. I want lend unrestraint the monotony of "it has to be done this way" projects.

I want to go off on an artistic tangent. To venture into the unknown in search of unexpected sparks. To find that creative flow. When you get in that creative groove it's pretty damn cool. It's like when you are reading and you get into it to the point where you block everything else out. You know what I mean. I mean the point in which you are so focused that you don't hear that person talking to you in the room. Huh?? What?? What did you say?

When I get into the creative groove, it works in the same way. You involuntarily block everything out. When I'm deep into it, I feel like I detach. I am there watching myself work, but, I am unaware of my own input. It's like I am watching it happen. I am watching my hands working.

What an unduplicated high that is! And, what's even better now is that when it happens, I am consciously aware of it.

It must be that "higher consciousness" state I've heard alluded to in what we would call, that new age stuff. Hmmmmm.... but, is that new age? Isn't it more in the way of a new way to present old material? Didn't our ancestors harbor these notions? Or, some of them? I mean, I can't believe for a second that hundreds of years ago we all thought the same things and that's just the way it was. Hell no. That wouldn't make sense. Yet, historically speaking, we have a tendency to flatten out our ancestors. Like they didn't have quirks, ideas, or, authentic personalities at all.

We characterize our forefathers and mothers in insipid terms. Great Grandpa worked at the railroad all his life... eventually he was run over by a train. His father, who would be your Great-Great-Grandfather, was the town sheriff,  was killed in the line of duty. He had 3 sisters, and 4 brothers - the last of which died and took their Mother with them. The family continued to live and work on the farm. Wow. You see right where that big light fixture is? Well that's where the barn used to sit. Right in the middle of the parking lot at Walmart.

Damn.  That thought nearly has me wanting a little something to drink. No..... ummmmm.... super size it, OK?

Anyway, getting back to the ancestor thing... what we didn't know was that Great Grandpa was run over by a train because he was a drunk and fell out of the train car onto the tracks. His Dad, the sheriff, was shot while engaging in a not-so-friendly poker game in his office. And, none of the kids spoke to each other after the oldest boy decided to sell out from under the family and forced them all to move.

We sugar coat the past. We sugar coat nostalgia and make it look like the good-ol'-days. Sometimes, there was not much good about it, in fact - the good part might be the fact that we managed to get through it. But, when it's over and done with... I suppose that it's easier to cope with it if we can all do that. It has to be part of our overall survival mechanism. Oh... things were so wonderful then... and, life... well, life was beautiful... everybody was oh, so happy... and we had so-so-so-so SO much fun then...

May 26, 2001

Saturday and the holiday weekend... but, another work day for me. Only today I'm not working all that hard. I'm doing little things around my house. You know, those things you mostly think about doing but never seem to get to... things like polishing the old chrome beehive blender, cleaning light fixtures, washing the wood ceiling in the kitchen, dusting for webs, washing fingerprints off switch plates, cleaning telephones, cleaning the computer keyboard... etc.

This morning after talking to M, there was a knock at my door. She sent me a dozen red roses! Again! The card attached said:

Of course, after reading that, I laughed out loud and called her to thank her. Hmmmmm... I really think she likes me... ;^)...  What a sweetheart she is. M is one of the nicest people I've had the pleasure to know. And, it's not solely because of the flowers... but, because she's genuine. She a gentle soul, and, I love that about her.

So, woooooo damn hoooooo to that!

Of course, since I now have a shiny chrome blender... it's time for a strawberry Margarita.

May 27, 2001

Bad dogs.

A neighbor from a few houses over sauntered into the backyard. Tasha and Booda had arrived at the scene a millisecond prior. Almost like they were ushering him in.

Hmmmmm.

Something was up. And... that something was the fact that Booda had stole something. "Yep... that black one there, he uhhh... he stole a part to my tent."

Fortunately, he managed to find it. It was something black and plastic. I'm not sure exactly what part of the tent it was - but, I could assume that ANY "part" of your tent would be critical if it were missing.

So, he find the part and heads back in the direction of his house. I apologize and he says, "Oh, that's OK..." Then I hear another voice. Not the same but a man's voice nonetheless.

It was my neighbor's son-in-law who was doing repairs to her roof.  He's standing on the roof and says, "Yeah and that little monster ripped up my jacket!" WHAAAAAAAAAT????? OHMYGOD!!! "But, that's OK because it was old..."

Still. Even though it was old, I doubt that was the deciding factor for them to have a tug-of-war with it.  It looks like these dogs might cause an out-of-pocket expense. My pockets. It's rather unfortunate they don't have their own pockets.

OK. So. They are bad. I know it. They are active. I know that. They are puppies. I know that. Yet today, I wish they were old. Old and mellow. The kind of dog that if you don't see it, you know it's laying down somewhere.

The kind of dog whose hole-digging days are over. The kind whose attitude says, "hey, leave me alone, I'm not bothering you..." Not the kind who is ripping through the flowerbeds, dirt and dog spit flying. Not the kind who is always saying, "HEY, look at me!" while panting and drooling.

Lucky for me. I'm not so shallow to fall hook line and sinker on the cute factor alone.

May 28, 2001

Cute. REAL CUTE.

More about some bad dogs.

Tasha appears at the back door as I emerge with what looks like wet mud on her front paws and her face. Booda is smiling and breathing heavy nearby. They look like they are in trouble.

I continue my journey by carrying stuff into the garage. I'll sort it later. I'm on a mission to get it out of the house now.

As I step out of the garage, I notice something in the grass and head over to pick it up. No doubt it is something from the dogs. I know this because they always seem to bring things back to roughly the same area.

What the... FUCK!!!! Damn it!!!!

It's a caulk tube that has been half chewed. YUCK. It's not caulk. It's roofing cement. SHIT!!! And here's the rest of the tube over here.

Of course the dogs are nowhere to be seen, but, after throwing the offending merchandise into the trash, I yell their names. They arrive promptly looking like they are sensing the fact that they are in trouble.

I could see that Tasha was full of roofing cement. Booda, being black, it was harder to tell. Being I was pissed off... they BOTH went in lock-up mid afternoon on a very gorgeous day. Corporal punishment and nothing less. No treats either.

Ask them. They'll tell you what a hard ass I can be.

I locked them up with a classic scowl.
 

May 30, 2001

A 10 hour work day.

Left work and headed over to the local automotive shop. Picked up a tiny 12 volt halogen light. Needed it for an underwater fixture at home - a table top fountain < a very cool one... it looks like a surrealistic washboard and beginning to show a charming green/rusty patina > Little light bulb in hand, and, eight damn dollars later, I drive into one of those drive-thru oil change places. Feeling tired while knowing I'd probably have trouble sleeping later. I always wake-up again after I get home. Still... it's a good thing I stopped because the 5 guys working... weren't.

So, now I'm at the oil change place. Escorted in via the full palm-upward finger waving technique from a skinny guy with oversized glasses and a greasy spotted shirt. Then, the flock descended upon my car. For at least 4 of them, I'd say this is their very first job. They have that look about them. And, they kept on asking the big guy what to do. The big guy tries to act cool and show them the ropes. The other guys just keep saying stuff like, "Oh. OK. Alright. Yeah. I can do that. Which one do I use? What size is that? How do I know... blah, blah, blah..."

The big guy decides to take over in order to get to the canister filter in the car. It's slightly trickier than a conventional carburetor housed filter. The green kid seemingly discovered that on the spot. "Uhhhhh... can you...." he says right as the big guy leapt into place with a screwdriver in tow. After momentarily struggling, he opens the housing and changes the filter. In the process, Mr. Big Stuff loses one of the clips to the housing.

"Ummmmm...... uhhhhh...... I guess I'll order you one and call you in a couple of days. I don't know where it went. It's like it just disappeared."

Alright.

While I won't be waiting by the phone, he'd better call.
 

Other stuff
Cass called and came over Monday afternoon for a few hours.  While I'm still not sure what the deal was with her not showing up or calling a few weeks ago... I figured, WHATEVER.  It's a new day. We had quite a few laughs. And, absolutely the best conversation since she's been gone.

She's doing fine except for the fact that she cannot sing at her brother's June 9th wedding. She's really bummed about it, BUT - she blames herself for it happening because of the bulimia. Therefore, she says she hasn't been throwing up in weeks now.

I hope she hasn't been. I truly do. BUT, I can't help but to wonder since lying about it is a part of the disorder. I can't help but to hope that she can conquer this before it kills her. It's helpless being anyone but her. In this, it's imperative she is truthful to herself. Saying the words doesn't make it so. She has to make it real.

Back to some old news...
...where everything old is new again.

The Sista update
That sickening stuff about the alleged Grandmother's sexual deviance toward my Sista's two children. Grandma's dead son's kids. Don't know what I'm talking about? Go ahead and read the archives.

Sis will appear at the local Court tomorrow morning. I'm going to work instead. After the most recent allegations arrived, I don't want to lay eyes on that sick bitch Granny.

Yes. I do think she's a sick bitch. Yes. I would like to kick her ass from here to there. Yes. She has amazed me by my own thoughts of killing her. Imagine that. I've thought of it. Not that I'd do it, but - I'm sort of surprised that I would be having such violent thoughts about another human being. Hmmmm. The truth is that I felt nothing for her. NOTHING. I had moments when I thought about it and felt like I would feel nothing if I did it. Not even if she knew it was coming and begged me to stop before I did it. Yes. I was that pissed. That enraged. That absolutely furious. For a moment I could have been out of control. I could have been deemed criminally insane at the time I committed the crime if she was before me. Lucky for her, she was not.

So what in the hell happened? And how did my Sis lose 10 pounds in a week?

More revelations from my just turned 7 year old nephew. According to the experts, this delayed disclosure is common.

He told my Sis that "Nah-nee" pulled his pants down and said something about licking him. Then he cried his eyes out. Little body shaking and sweating and clinging to his Mom.

Court is tomorrow. They are the first on the docket. My Sis says that if they tell her she has to allow Grandma visitation with the children that she'll go to jail first.

It doesn't look like this is over yet. Probably not even after court tomorrow.

I can't imagine that the court would force visitation in light of everything. BUT... stranger things have happened.

I mean, I wanna move... but, not to a women's prison. Hmmmmm... although... I could get a totally free education there... and, I'd have a much lively social life. But damn! I'd miss my girlfriend....

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