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October 1, 2001

Tear another page off the calendar.

I spent the bulk of the weekend in the barn sorting out and pricing rummage sale stuff. This coming Thursday, it'll be carted off to Gail's place for the rummage sale. It'll probably take a few trips with the truck to get it there. After going through everything and cleaning it before pricing - damn. I have quite the heap. More than I thought. But, I'm happy to be getting rid of this accumulation, and... I'm happy that it'll make other people happy getting a bargain. That always empowers me... ;^) My hope is that I don't have to drag too much of this shit back home. 15 days from today I'll be flying out to see M and the boys. To say that I am excited about this feels like an understatement. Even the word ecstatic doesn't adequately describe it. Where is that word?

Today I booked another trip out to see them for Christmas and through the New Year. I talked my Aunt into coming with me because she has an old friend that lives nearby. A friend that she has known for 50 years!!!!! A friend that has been begging her to come and see him for years now. It would be unlikely that she would travel alone to see him so, this worked out perfectly. Plus, it ought to be fun traveling with my Aunt. I'm really happy that she agreed to go. This will be the first time we've traveled together.

I would have liked to have left for the holidays on the 24th - but, there's that whole Mom thing going on here. My Mother abso-freakin'-lutely loves Christmas and really wanted me to be with them. And, so I will. Mom and Dave will be giving us a ride to the airport later in the day. When the day comes that M and I and the kids can be with them, that'll be complete joy.

It's coming up on my cousin's birthday. October 5. My Aunt has been feeling down because it's getting closer to the time where he committed suicide last October 26. I distinctly remember his helium birthday balloons were still hanging in the air in the house on the day he killed himself. To say that was an awful day also seems like an understatement. It was a fucking nightmare. Sometimes I still can't believe it.

Suicide is one of those things that never really heals all together. I mean, for me... I don't think it has. My father's suicide seems like a dream. A bad dream. It'll be 5 years this February. There will always be those unanswered questions, a little bit of anger and some confusion surrounding it. I don't think about it every single day but, I think about it enough. The thought has become an ugly reminder of everything I felt along with how I literally threw myself into working after it happened. I could have never been ready for anything like that. I still have many mixed emotions about it.

So... it'll be good for my Aunt to have something to look forward to. At first she balked about going because she's still waiting on all of the probate stuff since my uncle died. But, nothing is going to happen with that during the holidays so - it's the perfect time to go.

Now about my trip in 15 days... no doubt I will feel a bit weird about getting on the plane < and even being in the airport > in light of the terrorist attacks, but - I'm not worried about a hijacking. Security is much more of an issue now. I'm sure I'll be thinking about how the people aboard the planes must have felt... I've already thought about that. I just know being in the plane will be different. Of course, I always feel better when the plane lands. No matter what. Plus, knowing I'll be seeing M is like the light at the end of the tunnel. I am sooooo looking forward to being with her. I'm feeling giggly about it as the time draws near. It's an especially nice feeling since I've really been on downside since the nightmare events of September 11.

Today, my life has new meaning... and, I have an entirely new appreciation for it.

October 7, 2001

I guess it's safe to say that I haven't felt like writing much. Imagine that. I was too busy thinking and feeling to put it down. And.... there is nothing I could have said that could have conveyed the all of the mixed feelings I've been having. It had to be experienced. I'm sure many of you can relate.

Can you believe it? I even feel a little guilty for wanting to get on with my life. But, there is little I can do EXCEPT to go on. Shutting down is not an option.

Deja vu to these odd feelings. In the last 5 years I've had plenty of practice. I have not gotten any better at it. This is the once case where all the practice in the world doesn't mean shit.

Today the news reports were out. We began bombing Afghanistan. We all knew the day would come. It was a matter of when, not if.

Frightening stuff. But... it's necessary for me to concentrate on other things. I don't want to be seriously considering building a bomb shelter or getting a gas mask. If my life gets down to that, I'm not sure it would be worth living. I'll just take this with me on this journey called my life, and, while some parts have no comfortable fit - in the future I'll remember it like a thorny part. That will hurt a bit whenever I think about it.

October 8, 2001

We are bombing Afghanistan again. The second wave.

I'm feeling conflicted about this. A part of me understands WHY we are doing this, yet another part of me feels saddened by all of it. The entire scenario is depressing. The concept of warring to insure peace seems to be at odds within me. I mean, I get it... but, here I am feeling sick about it. I believe there is something innate to my spirit that is being affected by this.

Our government is reporting that we are bombing the Taliban's military installations and crippling their radar, airstrips and whatever else deemed necessary. As I watch CNN, I'm wondering about the propaganda I am listening to. They can't tell us anything much aside from reports that appear to demonstrate the fact that we are kicking the shit out of their infrastructure. Of course, I am looking at the news reports as propaganda because we are not going to be reporting anything but. The military and all the worldwide powers that be, they know. They know that we are being monitored. Monitored by the enemy. They aren't going to be revealing info that could be used against us. When they get too specific, it looks like a set up. Nope. Show 'em pictures of our weaponry... especially our bombs < wide angle stockpile shots are preferred > and, of our well organized and resounding military. Show pictures of America rallying behind their president. Show all of the flags waving around town. Let 'em know that they'll never kick our ass. Let 'em know that we're coming to get them. Let them know that we're pulling together. Let them know our fury.

We are propelled by the memories of the terrorists. We are infuriated by the indelible marks they put upon our land. You can't fuck with us without paying a price. I understand the anger that left.

It's only that I have a problem with this equation:

Although... I do get the concept. The basic one: you know.... kill the "bad guys." Supposedly, if we kill the bad guys there will be nothing but good guys left. Then.... we can all live happily ever after. Of course, if life was a movie we might have better luck, especially if we could add promise to the ending.

And, even if we do kick their collective terrorist asses from here to Timbuktu and back, would we suddenly solve a host of warring on the smaller scale? Could we become more forgiving? Could we become more loving? Could we ever trust that much? Could we ever even imagine it? Could we ever feel that safe? That secure?

Certain terror exists in society on a smaller scale, damaging and assaulting us as individuals. We've lived with it. We've coped with it. It permeates the stuff we read about in the daily newspapers. Most of which happens to other people. Not us. OK... sometimes us. It's real. But, when it happens to us it's unreal. Counterfeit reality.

Just like war. There have been warring factions in the world at all times. We've seen it on TV. The bombed out buildings. The dead bodies. The bleeding, injured people. We've seen that on prime time TV. Reported as a matter-of-fact. But, it was so far away that it didn't seem real. It was just a picture. It took the reality of terror upon our land to slap the desensitization away from it.

What a mess. What a fucking mess.

October 9, 2001

On the third day of bombing Afghanistan, I come home to discover that cable modems are now available in my area. I'll wait on that notion until after I get back from my trip to AZ to see M.

Speaking of my trip, if I were M... I'd already be packed. Of course, I'm not. But, you can bet I'll be packing the night before. I'm so organized.

What in the hell happened to me? I dunno... I've been scatterbrained for the last month. More than usual. I'm sure I don't have to point out why this might be true, so - I won't. Here I wrote 3 days in a row and didn't bother to upload.

Well... kick my ass.

I haven't been playing with my new computer much. Long enough to accidentally erase some unread mail... so, in case you wrote recently - maybe you could drop me another line. I'm not giving you the cold-shoulder... I'm just a ditz.

Mom called me at work today. She and Dave are leaving tomorrow morning to go on a long road trip. They'll be coming back this coming Sunday night. After a 10 hour, most of the day kind of drive. They are going to see her bio Daddio and my Bro with the 2,000 sq. ft. addition. A long damn drive. Hope they have a safe trip. Dave has to work Monday morn. I'm sure he'll do most of the driving and he'll be exhausted by the time they get back.

Next Wednesday I leave for my trip. Mom is taking me to the airport and she also agreed to pick me up...

... the day is drawing near and I can't believe it. I can't wait to see them!

I see sleepless nights on the horizon...

October 10, 2001

Fourth day in a row for writing - although, at the same time... I haven't written much. Still, I wrote. And since this is the fourth day of posting - feel free to take my temp or something.

I walked out in the back yard tonight after a long day at the office. The paths are a patchwork of fallen leaves in various tones of yellow, brown and red. The wind was blowing so hard I could barely make out the sound of my tromping on them, although I did hear some sounds I'd call scruffling < yes.... sometimes I make up words >. Anyway.... one of the dogs always seemed to look like the graphic of the greyhound on the side of a bus. They were playing hard. Real hard.

Lately, Tasha has been playing hard to get. Hard to get back into the Outback for the evening. While Booda has been exemplary in his behavior since he was hit by the car, Tasha has fallen to the wayside. She is the wayward Bull. She has developed and fine tuned her selective hearing. The little bitch doesn't hear what she doesn't want to hear. She's the Joan Collins of dogdom. The canine equivalent of a juvenile delinquent. She is the bad seed. Devil dog - hound from hell.... welllllllllll.... OK.... let's not go THAT far.

She's just BAD. She and I are not on the same page or even in the same book. She's testing me. She'll be walking up the path leading to the Outback with Booda. Once he goes in and I walk through the doorway, she hangs back. She hangs back and sits on her tail right outside the door. Won't even come in for little multi-color dog bone treats. Such tenacity.

While Booda sits front and center waiting for a treat to emerge from my hand in my pocket, she's just sitting back there outside the door. I call her nicely 400 times and she fails to respond. By the time I am mad enough to turn and call her name through clenched teeth, she's walking away. Walking away with her head hanging low and glancing back. Picking up tempo as she goes. Now I'm really pissed. I try to chase her. She runs from me. I want to laugh but do not dare.

She's circling the truck. We are both circling the truck. How stupid is this? Fuck her. The human animal takes the reverse psych route. Canine seems confused.

Finally, she follows me into the Outback. She takes off through the hole in the wall into the fenced kennel side. I call her and she won't come in for a treat. Maybe she has one of those voice analyzer things and she knows I'm still a little ticked off at her.

Maybe I wish she was just a stupid dog.

October 11, 2001

I don't know what to think at the moment. The FBI has announced the probability of new terror attacks in the next several days. On the other hand, we've been told that "Americans should go on with their lives, there's no reason people should live in panic."

Huh??? Sounds to me like we should not be giving this warning the brush off, yet - we should say "fuck it" and keep on keeping on. What kind of a mixed message is that? Be on alert, be on guard - but... hey, don't worry about it. Statistically speaking that may be true. Yet statistics are flat on a page even though they are based in fact. Statistics aren't people, even though people are statistics. Statistics aren't flesh and blood. They aren't breathing, moving living entities. Oh, but don't tell a statistician that. They'd argue that statistics are fluid and flow with the movement of the people. A factual representation which wouldn't exist without our entities in its entirety. Essentially factual and just like a statistician to marvel over the remarkable synchronicity. The relationship between numbers and people isn't such a wondrous case where I am concerned. And, statistics can be skewed and data jumbled. Sometimes we want to see what we want to see. That's where our human emotion encounters what numbers fail to represent.

Today, I don't want to see any of what is going on. But, I can't avoid it. It's everywhere. It's in our minds and falls from our mouths. Apparently, it's on my mind and spills onto the keyboard where it is subsequently flung into cyberspace. You know - the space that is a place more than a space? We think it, we read it... we hear it and see it on the news. You don't have to ask, "what?" You don't have to because you already know.

We are at war. We are living in the midst of war. I never thought I'd see the day - but, the day is at hand. I wish this was a dream. Because if it was, I'd surely want to wake up.

I am still crying inside over the losses we have suffered a month ago. I am still stunned by the devastation. The pain of the families was felt across this land. The loss. The huge loss. The people responsible for this must be missing a soul. I don't understand how a person, any person could be so devoid of love. How does that hatred gain such a foothold that it reigns? And to hate with such a vengeance... it make me want to scream. Who are these imposters? Why are they here? What is their purpose do they serve to mankind? Or, to the universe?

I'll never make a claim to be religious in the all commercial connotations. Never in that sense at all. It's a spiritual thing. It feels innate to me. The connection to something bigger than myself seems to come quite naturally. So naturally that I can't imagine being that fucked up. Yes. Because if THAT isn't fucked up then I don't know what is.

Worrying isn't something I like to do but, I can't say I'm not. Next week I'm flying away. I'll be in the air for hours and hours one way.....

OK..... so, M..... if I get there crocked..... just put me to bed, eh?

I wouldn't do that. BUT..... I 'll probably need a stiff drink after I get there. I'm certain to be frazzled.

All I know is I want to get there. I want to see her. I'm excited about that even though I am nerved up about flying... just let me get there and I'll be OK.

October 12, 2001

It's 2 a.m. and I'm still wide frickin' awake. Not good since the alarm will be going off in 3 and one half hours. This should make for an interesting day. We'll see if I'm coherent enough later tonight... I'll write.

...evening

I survived the day. ALL day. I even went and did some shopping after work. Picked up a few things at the grocery store, too. It's quite amazing but, I did have an exceedingly productive day at work. To an extreme. Now that's two days in a row. Things were flowing just as they should in a fairy tale. Or, at least... in my fairy tales.

I needed to get a camera case for the digital camera my phenomenal girlfriend bought me. I'm taking it with me so, I picked up new batteries, and, I bought a new headset for my phone < one that I subsequently had to retrofit to use >. That makes it something like the 3rd headset I've had since our weekend telephone marathons began. What else can you do when you live so far from each other?

To illustrate the sometimes pathetic nature of a long distance relationship... let me tell you that we have watched CNN and the Weather Channel together over the phone. Go ahead and laugh. But, I dare you to try living so far away from the person you love. It ain't easy. We live in different time zones so CNN, MSNBC and the Weather Channel are the shared selections. And, we discovered that we have different commercials on during the breaks. I would have never known otherwise. No doubt this knowledge makes you feel enlightened. In a trivial sort of way.

Here I go... harping. Whining. < AGAIN.... not THIS again?????!!!!!! > BUT.... waaaaaa waaaaaaaaa waaaaaaaaahhhhhh.... I miss M and the kids BAAAAAAAAD - - - - - < here comes the promised whining part - just act like you've NEVER heard this before > I can't wait until the day that we are all together. I mean, not that we're not all together now, because.... of course - we are. I mean the all together all in the same house kind of together. Together doing something silly. Something which it has been proven that I have plenty of practice in. Anyway.... with that aside, I thought about how much I missed them in the grocery store this evening. Suddenly, I felt very alone there. I actually felt my face flush and the tears well up in my eyes. Now, you know you're damn well fried when you nearly cry in the aisle near the Crisco. Which brings up another subject: why don't they show open heart surgery on the label of that sludge? Oh, never you mind. But most certainly.... I was breezing by the can as it blurred in my peripheral vision due to the aforementioned watery gaze. Remember? And YES. I can have many different thoughts at once... yeah... so damn many. Oh shit.... now I'm wondering < again > how YOU think. What's your thought process like? What are you thinking? What's up with that? What's in you head? Fast flip to wondering why the damn store doesn't have mangos. Oh yeah... and there's that anthrax thing. The domino effect. Which then reminds of the WTC.... the war and the bombs and the planes and the people... DAMN! Somebody in this decrepit grocery store stinks. "Hellooooo and I'd like to donate some soap to your cause..." OHMYGOD. It's some greasy, butt crack displaying... ambling, rambling man. A stubby, grungy specimen. Slick back hair and sideburns. Dirty nails. Then... I wonder what in the hell happened to Whitney Houston... she's been looking like a crackhead. Still sounds good but I swear that bad boy Bobby "ain't had a hit in years" Brown... isn't good for her. She needs to get some intervention before whatever she's doing kills her. This store is disgustingly filthy. The cereal I nearly bought had a LAYER of dust on the boxtop and I noticed that it had expired. About 2 months after it should have been pulled from the shelf. YUCK. Never mind that. I'll get a different kind. They don't have much that I want here. The selection is lacking. Unless you want red meat. The whole back wall seems full of it. The shrine wall of beef, swine and bologna. Who's minding the store? There's expired milk on the shelf, too. I wonder when these floors were cleaned last. You can see dirt tracks from carts all over the floor. Here's a kid screaming. Red faced and hanging from the cart handle yelling at the top of his lungs. His mother has tuned him out and is going through her coupons. I need to get the hell out of here. Everyone decides to leave at once. There are two check out lanes open. In the line I choose, the clerk is having a conversation with the man in front of me. Neither of them seem to notice anyone else in the store. They are oblivious to the line behind me. So, the guy starts talking about how awful that "amtrax" stuff is. I bite my lip and try not to listen - I'll never ride THAT train again < and he keeps on repeating the word >. I mean.... I try not to laugh. When I glance at the woman behind me she rolls her eyes and we exchange quick smiles. I have to look away so I don't bust out laughing. The clerk asks him if he saw the new Vermont Quarter. Nope. But - he is two cents short. After digging through all of his pockets, the clerk tells him not to worry about it. Why in the hell am I here? At the grocery store I clearly detest...? The answer convenience. But.... I won't be back here. No way. I escape by parting with less that forty dollars. I almost felt like flipping off the store as I drove away but managed to refrain myself while I sped away.

I headed home, dead tired. I need some sleep. I need some sleep real bad.

October 13, 2001

Fall is in the air...

Trails in transformation

October 15, 2001

I didn't write yesterday because I didn't think it would be polite if I wrote only to say I wasn't writing. I didn't feel like writing. But, I didn't because I thought that would have been stupid. Almost as stupid as my writing it now, eh?

So... of course I'm beginning to wig out. I'm feeling giddy. It might be hard to sleep. My mind is elsewhere. Where? Oh, a little here and a little there.... it not all here and it's not all there.... it almost like I am high. Which, I suppose, to some extent that is very true. A natural high, baby. Ya can't snuff, swallow, smoke or shoot this stuff. This is special. And let me tell you - this is some good shit. For real. On no uncertain terms, this is REALLY good shit.

I'm higher than a damn kite. Maybe, higher than 20 kites. Woooooooooooo hoooooooooooo..... yeeeeeeehhhhhh owwwwwwwww....

Love is a drug. I'm sure of it. Absolutely.

It's safe, too.

I don't recall hearing of anyone checking into Betty Ford because of it.

Have you?

October 16, 2001

Twas the night before my trip....

and all through the house....

it may be quiet....

....but, I'm flipping out.

Tomorrow is the day! Will I get any sleep? Stay tuned.... to find out. I might I might not. It's a toss up whether I'll be tossing and turning. At least I don't have to journey to the office and I can sleep in an hour or so. So I think anyway. All I can think about is that at this time tomorrow I will be there. I can barely contain myself... I am very happy about being with them for the next week. The only thing to hate about this is that I always think about leaving even before I get there. I hate leaving them. At least this time I know that I'll be with them for another 10 days during Christmas. That doesn't seem so far off. After that - who knows? I don't know how long it'll be before we see each other again.

M gets a spring break in March. But, I'm unsure that I can swing it. I have to get this damn addition completed. You know - the thing I've been ignoring, not to mention other things throughout the house. Normally I'd be doing some ass kicking work after Christmas. Not this year. But, that's OK. Being there with them will be the most wonderful gift I could have.

October 17, 2001

The long awaited day has come!
I managed to get about 6 hours of sleep last night.... more than I thought.

I'm beginning to feel a little anxiety about the plane trip. It'll all be OK because the main goal is getting there and this is what I have to do. Although... the day will be long. I'm leaving my house at 11 a.m. to go to Mom's place. She's driving me to the airport and my Sis might be there, too. Since security is tighter, the wait at the airport will be longer. Once I get on that plane, I'll fly for a little over an hour and have a layover of nearly 2 hours. Then... it's three and a half hours on another plane.

From the time I leave today, it'll be nine and a half hours until I reach my destination.

I may write when I'm gone and upload when I get back... but, providing I return safely, I'll have plenty to say come the 24th!

October 24, 2001

It's just after 1 o'clock in the morning when I crack open the ol' diary of a mad handyma'am.

Yep. I'm back.... and, NO.... I did not take the time to write while I was gone. Although I did think about it several times, I'm sure that doesn't count for anything. Seriously, I was too busy to write. Plus, it was kind of nice to be away from everything, ya know?! I don't get a chance to do that often. Nor do I get enough time to spend with my far away family.... so, I wallowed in that. I completely wallowed in that.

Of course, I hated leaving. And, of course, the time flew by as was expected. It zoomed.

The day was long and it was about midnight when I got back here. It's now past the bewitching hour even though it feels like 10 p.m. < M's time zone >. I had no problem adjusting to that, it's the switching back part that sucks. Luckily, I was smart and took an extra day off knowing I'd be coming in late and this would happen.

I was greeted at the airport by Mom and Dave. They were breezing in as I walked up and we met as the hall intersected. Perfect timing. We waited near the luggage carousel. We waited and waited. Seems it didn't make the plane. They lost my luggage. If it makes it back, it should be delivered to me later today.

Booda met me in the drive tonight. The fence jumper is back in form. Or, I mean - the fence climber. He climbs out. Never back in. What a shit.

Upon arrival I found out that my Aunt had an accident and totaled out her big old car. This happened last Saturday afternoon. She had her son with her and they were broadsided. His side. And, according to Dave.... he's was lucky he wasn't killed. He said that when you looked at the car you wouldn't have thought he would have made it out of that mess alive.

It sounds like it was my Aunt's fault and that she pulled out in front of someone. Someone in a truck. My cousin's got banged up pretty bad or good < depending on your descriptive preference >. He ended up in the hospital overnight and got 42 stitches on one side of his face. According to Mom, the other side of his face is entirely unscathed. I would imagine that the right side of his face is the stitched up one. That would be logical being the passenger. Unless of course he was standing on his knees reaching for something in the backseat. Unlikely but, you've got to admit - possible. Just not probable.

Oh, hell! What is next???? And WHY do I keep wondering that? It is always something else.... always.

My Aunt appeared OK... a little bruised up. They x-rayed her for internal injuries.

To add further proof to the theory that it's always something - when they x-rayed her, they saw a mass under her arm.

This is very bad news. Very bad. This is the latest "what's next" in a series of traumatic events in my Aunt's life. Most likely, the cancer is back.

So... I'm back, the cancer is back, and... I want my luggage back.

I'll write more after I get some clearly needed sleep. I'm feeling disquieted by these revelations. I'll relay more about my trip later. I'm feeling weird. Maybe you can tell.

Plus, my ass is a little petrified from sitting so damn long.

Now about my trip.....

Flying out there wasn't as bad as I had originally envisioned... although I can't say I wasn't nervous at first. It was noticible coming and going that everyone seemed a bit more edgy because everyone seemed to be checking everyone else out. As for security, even though I did see a few National Guards in uniform standing near the checkpoint gates, it appeared to be more surface than I had expected. That surprised me. The bag I checked in was never searched < either time > and, I didn't see any other checked in bags being searched. A few carry on bags were searched, like mine when I was leaving - but, not upon my return. When I left, they ran my bag through the x-ray machine and picked up something they didn't immediately identify: a package of batteries for the digital camera.

As for thorough searches prior to departure, very few people were checked. The common denominator seemed to be based on people who were from other countries and large men from anywhere. This was not random by any means. I watched this occur for nearly three hours while I waited for my connecting flight. Not once did I see a white woman singled out, nor did I see any of the smaller men searched. I found the profiling to be a little disconcerting.

While on the main flight heading to my destination, the airline crew couldn't thank everyone enough for flying. They practically begged people to fly again soon to show our support of the airlines. One guy speaking over the mic added some comic relief by saying he really wanted to keep his job and that is why we should all fly again. On each leg of the flight, all the passengers were given complimentary headphones. The service provided by the flight crew was exceptional. You could tell they were all going out of their way to be very upbeat. I did notice that the passengers seemed quieter than usual. One surprise was that I didn't overhear anyone mention the terrorist attacks while I was on any plane.

I couldn't wait to get to Phoenix. It was a long day and the long layover made it drag. But, once I got on the connecting fight direct to my destination, the time flew. I had brought some reading material with me but couldn't concentrate long enough to read much of anything. The anticipation was kicking in my adrenalin. I do remember the guys head directly in front of me. The way his buzz cut made every hair follicle visible. And the swirl atop his head that made it appear that his hair was circling and heading down the drain. I never saw his face, but, I'd recognize that hair anywhere.

After arriving and walking off the plane, once I got past the security checkpoint, the boys were the first people I saw. They were standing there waiting and pointed at me when they saw me, so... I pointed back and hugged them when I reached them. M was sitting down and got up with a big grin and a hug. How I waited months for that moment.

We waited for my checked bag < I couldn't wipe the grin off my face >, grabbed it and tore out of the airport on foot toward the vehicle. We picked up Chinese takeout food on the way home. At first, neither of us could believe that we were really together again. There was something so surreal about it. And, that's the way it has been each time we have been together. It's a real bitch having a girlfriend who lives so damn far away.

As I already mentioned, the time did fly by. I knew it would. That's just the way it is. 6 days isn't enough. But, we had a blast in the short time we had together. We fit in a variety of activities, a day at the zoo, shopping, backyard barbequing, and.... one of my favorite excursions: junking < garage sales >. One other highlight event was a trip to the "Mystery Castle." Very cool.

We were very busy while I was there but, it wouldn't have mattered what we did, what mattered the most was that we were finally together. When your time is that limited - every minute counts.

Now I'll be counting down the days until I see them again in December when my Aunt and I go. When I talked to my Aunt after coming back she was getting very excited about this trip - even in light of her accident and the possibility of the cancer returning. She does have an appointment coming up with her doctor and she told me that, "maybe I'll be able to put off any surgery until after I get back." And while I don't know about that, I do know her doctor and I know this woman is the best in her field. I'll leave that up to her. She would know best. If she doesn't feel she should wait, she'll tell her.

I'm looking forward to spending time with my Aunt in Arizona with M and the kids. And, her friend Johnny, too. Johnny is full of stories since he lived as a missionary most of his life. According to my Aunt, before that, he was a pastor in a church and they pushed him out because he was gay. I won't even bother to comment on that bullshit < even though that last word in the sentence clearly sums up my feelings on the subject >.

We should have a nice time and make lots of memories during those 10 days. M is gathering a list of things to do while we are there. Johnny only lives about 8 miles from M. It's a small world, eh? < well.... for some people it is >.

While M and I wait to see if she is going to get her teacher's certification in my state, we wonder if she'll get a job right away. We both know that we may end up waiting. While neither of us is happy about that, at least we ultimately have a plan. I've only been home a few days and I miss them just as much as I did before I left to visit them. OK.... I'm on the brink of whining so I'll switch gears....

For me, it's very cool to hear the excitement in my Aunt's voice when she talks about this upcoming trip. Tomorrow I have to call her and tell her I'm thinking about her because it's the first anniversary < the one you don't celebrate > of my cousin's suicide. I know it will be a very difficult day for her. Fortunately, she has company staying the night. That should help.

OK... I better go, I've got some things to do before I hit the hay tonight. I had planned on answering some e-mail tonight but that will have to wait. I never have enough time to do everything I'd like. You think that I'd be used to that by now.

I'm not.

October 26, 2001

The Pentagon appealed to Americans yesterday to send in ideas on thwarting terrorism. There is an open competition calling for one page descriptions. Those singled out from that bunch will be asked to provide up to 12 pages of detailed information. Those with the most promising ideas will submit full proposals that "may form the basis for a contract."

When I first heard this I thought it was a joke. I really did. Suddenly the Pentagon had its secretive cloak removed. They were fresh out of ideas. I'm not certain I wanted to know this. It didn't make me feel any safer.

Then I started to think about it.

I wondered if those mole smoke bombs I have in the garage might work better on the Taliban in their caves than they did on the moles burrowing in my yard. I wondered if we could drop giant globs of super glue to permanently seal them in their caves. Or, if we could drive them from the mountains with ear splitting heavy metal music or, Jim Nabors relentless singing.

Why don't we send the mafia out there after them? And, what about all of the killers on death row? And, the punks and gang members in the streets and at schools who like to play with guns? Gangsta rappers? What about OJ and Robert Blake heading up the team? Let's send all of ‘em there.

Maybe we could have Miss Manners scold them all for bad etiquette, have Mr. Blackwell put them on the worst dressed list and have Martha lure them out with the promise of clean sheets.

What about giant versions of those sticky mouse trap things? Or a jumbo adaptation of good old flypaper? Or, maybe Miss Cleo or other psychics could find them and entice them by telling them they won the lottery. If we threatened to build a prison in their backyard, would they come out up in arms? What if we sent our zoning administrators after them and closed down their caves?

Maybe we could try scaring the shit out of them by dressing as aliens and zapping them with taser guns. Maybe we could drop off immense packs of savage and possibly rabid, hungry animals to hunt them down and flush them out. How about mad cows, crazy crocs or, pissed off pythons?

What about a place for our toxic sludge along with all of those unsolicited AOL disks? What about those annoying robot dogs? Or, what about pumping over the contents of every sewer system in America? What about the promise of an all boy Tali band?

I don't know what the < add expletive here > answer is. Apparently our government is walking in my < add another expletive > shoes.

It's sort of like when I was a kid. I used to think adults knew everything. And, I do mean everything. Becoming one certainly shattered that dream.

Looks like we've opened up a new crock of shit.

October 27, 2001

STOP THE MAIL.... in regard to yesterday's entry.... I purposely went off on a bender, so don't get your underware in a bunch. While the Pentagon is appealing for ideas to prevent terrorism in our homeland, I ranted about the offensive potentials in Afghan. Duh.

On a serious note, short of giving up many of our freedoms - what can we do? We can't read minds. You can't tell a terrorist from an ordinary person can we? Do suicide bombers have a look about them? Can we judge a book from it's cover alone? Would keeping out immigrants mean an end to potential violence here in our homeland? Would monitoring immigrants prevent these things? Could we have differing levels of freedom here? I think not.

Like with vandals. How can we prevent that? Better lighting, neighborhood watches, etc? Still.... something has to actually happen before we can spring into action. We can't assume anything.

There is no easy answer. Even with a nuclear warhead proof biosphere that no one gets in or out of, we'd still have to deal with the Timothy McVeighs and the Ted Kazcynskis that are within.

That's one thing about life... nobody gets out alive.

I'm not going to live my life thinking the worst about everything. I won't live my life in fear of terrorism. I can't move ahead if I'm continuously looking over my shoulder. And, I'm not going to worry about things that haven't happened. I don't want to live like I am emotionally paralyzed. That is part of my freedom - I can choose not to. And, that is a part of all of our freedoms. It begins in your mind. It's how you think about your life and how you live your life. We have choices.

I want to move along with compassion and grace. I am not part of the terrorists in any way shape or form. Why should I let them have a part of me? If it so happens that I die as a result of terrorism, then I suppose, that is the way it was written. That is what it will be. But the fact is, I am alive now and, although I surely will perish, I do not know when or how that will happen. That was a fact long before the terror attacks here. That was a fact from the day I was born. Nothing has really changed.

OK.... so I'm off. I've got work to do. A house to clean, clothes to wash, bills to pay.... etc, etc. See? Nothing has changed.

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