copyright 1998 diary of a mad handyma'am an anonymous cyberspace diary & property of the mad handyma'am    1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11 12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  21  22  23  24  25  26  27  28  29  30  31

It looks like you caught me as I tried to sneak back in...

I've returned from a necessary break. A sudden parting if you will...

And here I go.

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Back from another Playtex spur-of-the-moment lifting and separation. Where today, I find myself wondering about the origins of the phrase "spur-of-the-moment..."

...feeling too lazy to even attempt to look it up. Oh, WOW! Imagine THAT!

You have witnessed me actually allowing myself to feel LAZY < yeah right, and here I am at the keyboard >. I even have gone as far as to think it's OK, too. It really is...

...for a short time anyway.

...fortunately, I have many interests along with impossible curiosity.

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Eventually, I get tired

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...unfortunately, I have many interests. A repetitive pattern. But, rarely dull.

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Soon, the addition will be properly electrified.

Soon, I will hear the sound of a clothes dryer. Play with pinkish/blue/purplely lint. The smell of the heat and fresh scent softener sheets. The sound of a jean zipper ticking on the metal inner tumbling chamber...

... such cheap thrills, you say?

;^)...finally, a licensed electrician is on the way.

< insert soprano: "Wooohoooo!!!" >

He'll be here next Wednesday evening. I met with Greg yesterday. Greg with the rubber molded beach footwear. The type that clacks up against your heel and sounds like a dry/fat tongue clucking. Shorts and a muscle t-shirt to show off mediocre muscles. Big globe head, short fuzzy buzz cut growing out soft brown. Twin gold crosses on a chain. Cheap swatch watch. 2 smashed fingernails. Stale booze on his cigar breath as he spoke tranquilly of wiring.

He looked more like a lifeguard than an electrician. But, that's OK because he saved me from doing it myself. He practically lives around the corner and he accepted the challenge.

Sept. 6th, 1998

Pulled wire. Drilled holes. Nailed boxes. Measured first.

Drank cheap champagne.

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Didn't eat.

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Sept. 11th, 1998

Remember this date. It's a day that made Internet history. The Starr Report on President Clinton was released publicly on the Internet. < like you didn't know anything about it, right? >

It's like our national leader is suddenly on the Jerry Springer show, complete with sordid details. Frankly, things I didn't ever want to know. And, things that to me, appear to be very personal details of his sexploits. I don't perceive his adultery with intern Monica Lewinsky as a "threat to our national security," even though it is clearly a reckless deed on his behalf. So, I'm not saying what he did was right...

... what I am saying is that I feel this report makes a mockery of office of the presidency, our government and the people. The media circus and the attention we've paid to the titillating details amounts to nothing more than a circuitous feeding frenzy. Have we collectively lost our intellectual faculties? Have we lost sight of the fact that President Clinton is a man, made of flesh and blood - a mere mortal?

Well, don't people who screw around lie about it? Isn't THAT more often the "normal" occurrence in the course of infidelity? Don't people generally deny it before they will admit to it? But, President Clinton lied about it under oath... so, he must face a harsher penalty for making a such a public ass out of himself...

...certainly, some people will think so. < and another thing... why did they ever outlaw public flogging?">

He fucked up < literally>. He lied. He happens to be in the White House. Of course, nobody ever screwed up there before , so the situation of being "screwed up in the White House" gets a new slant. He got caught. He got pissed and defensive. Admitted he was deceitful. After being pushed in a corner. He apologized. He asked for forgiveness.

What more can he do? What more could anyone do other than repent? It's amazing to me how many self-righteous, self-proclaimed "Christians" will vehemently denounce him in the name of God. In fact, I don't see how they can twist the concepts contained with the Bible around enough to justify the fact that "being judgmental" isn't what we're supposed to be doing here on earth. In fact, that message is particularly clear throughout. Pervasive even. BUT WAIT! Maybe they are simply taking a spiritual detour; a little run-around-the-block, if you will. Wasting a bit of precious time and energy. Well - my GOD! I guess even THEY are human! And while I don't know about you, I can say I forgive even them for that. Yet, I wonder why they lose touch with the truth in their hearts. The truth that God gave them. The truth they know. It's ingrained in us all. Righteous indignation doesn't wear well with my spirituality. What about yours? Harsh criticism coming from justifications held with interpreted biblical backing doesn't seem like it would have God's blessing. I know it's contrary to my own spirit. It doesn't feel right. When it does, you know. Somewhere there's a reason for that... or,

perhaps the ability to reason is solely a human thing.

Could it be that things are the way they are just because that's the way it is. No reason. And, no reason to hyper analyze. Shit happens.

[insert scratchy auditorium microphone announcer with slight echo effect]

>>>>> "your attention please, we need your attention please!" <<<<<

[insert pleasant voice over]

"Now, move along boys and girls...

So about the Clinton thing - what the hell is new with these scenarios? Except for that teenie-tiny little difference of having hundreds of pages of details documenting YOUR most intimate adventures. Otherwise, there is no difference...

Many people have had affairs. It happens. You don't have to like it. Somewhere, there may be statistics. I've seen ‘em before in the woman oriented magazines found on office desks and in waiting rooms. Little graphs purporting who did and who didn't <just like they know> Yeah, somewhere there may be statistics, but I wouldn't count on them being reliable. At best it's a guess.

Look around your circle of friends and family... and, maybe - at yourself and those closest to you. Infidelity generally causes a great deal of pain and suffering in and of itself. It doesn't make it "right" to lie, and, this isn't about being right - it's more about doing stupid things for stupid human reasons. And, it's about the people we hurt < including ourselves >.

As I've already said, President Clinton is NOT the Pope. And, if he is to be held at a higher standing, and be held more accountable because he is President due to his most intimate affairs - then what about the former Republican Reagan/Bush administration and the Iran/Contra affair?

Sept. 13th, 1998

Greg, the electric lifeguard was back. This time he left the lifeguard costume home. He even brought coveralls. It was time to snake the fat black wire that supplies power flowing to the rear wing of the house < oh my! Doesn't the term "rear wing" sound a little haughty?! >. Brand new power that had to be snaked under the floor by crawling under the house in the crawlspace. And, I mean crawling. Literally crawling.

Greg surprised me some when he said he didn't like spiders < ha ha! I thought... now they've got him! >. That's certainly not something I've heard many men admit in my life. Some, but not many. I admired his candor and his ability to accomplish the task in spite of his phobia. He sure as hell was happy when he pulled himself back up through the trap door!

His face was the epitome of relief...

Sept. 14th, 1998

The electrical inspector stopped in when we were gone. Ooooops!/but... Yeah! The door was left unlocked and he ever so kindly left the electrical rough-in approval ticket laying on the work table in the addition when we walked in. We didn't get to meet him. Darn.

But hey, I probably would have asked him a lot of questions anyway. He escaped that. This way it was as impersonal as a drive-thru manned by a dog < except for that missing tinny sounding speaker part and change back with a paper bag to go >.

Next, the electrician will return to bestow the addition with power. In the rough-in stage you don't wire anything. The wire is left hanging out of the boxes...

Sept. 16th, 1998

I wondered when I'd finally get around to posting the last weeks worth of stuff. I haven't been spending much time on the computer this month at all. Hardly written a thing. Too much to do. Too much too wrap up...

Fall is coming. There's always much to do in preparation for winter. I don't have the woodshed stocked near the Outback Inn as I type. Haven't got a plumber yet either. I could sit here half of the night and tell you what I need to do... or, I could disappear and do it.

Chicken update:

We hemmed. We hawed. Would we? Should we keep the damn chickens?

We locked the chickens out of Cozy's doghouse and made them move to the 2nd floor area < accomplished by fastening a swinging mat in the opening >. This solved one problem and created another. BREWSTER was as angry as a Rooster can get over that one. Chicken Noodle just walked around like she was in a poultry daze.

I built a ladder board for them to walk up on. And, gave them steps, too. The next day they were found inside adjusting to their new home. Soon, Chicken Noodle should be laying eggs... making her the only animal we have that has a real job.

Sally and Ricardo Update: still hanging out. Nothing new except for Ricardo's operation to cover the formerly flushed hole with a skin flap. Apparently successful...

...I'm left wondering though, what do they put in the hole before they put the skin flap on it? Wouldn't they put something there? I mean, if they didn't - wouldn't it be a little like a drum? < hey - maybe they'll form a Christian band! >

the Big D<ream> oh-make-it-go-away update:

A bit of sisterly advice:

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when you are ready....

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Sept. 19th, 1998

Work - work - work. That's what I always seem to do.

And that's why you don't hear from me. Do you have a reason, too?

Sept. 21st, 1998

In one swift move... finally, little sis signed the divorce papers today!

The BIG Did it! process is put into motion the same day president Clinton's grand jury testimony was aired. I spent the first few hours half-watching it - that's about all I could stand. It appears to me to be the basis for grounds for divorce, not grounds for impeachment...

...ok.

Yet another one bites the dustMore proof that living is always fatal.

Gold medal Olympian track star Flo-Jo/Florence Griffith Joyner is dead at 38. Such an unexpected early demise. Condolences to those who love her < notice how I didn't say loved? >.

I could hardly believe my ears when I heard this news. Heart seizure in her sleep according to the news < oddly, nurse Laura said she had not heard of the term "heart seizure" >.

My first thought < maybe yours? > was that her death could be related to steroids - despite public insinuations and proclamations that she didn't use, and, subsequently passing drug tests < I hope this isn't the case > . Autopsy results will be forthcoming.

Until then we can do what we've been doing best lately...

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The antidoteyou need

Sept. 22nd, 1998

Other stuffyou could live without knowing

Chicken Noodle laid 3 eggs! We cooked 'em up and guess what... in the ultimate act of recycling we fed them to our cannabalistic chickens. Yup. With salt and pepper, too.

We didn't eat 'em. 2 of them were fertilized and had dark spots in the yolk...

Crash < the ocassional beer swilling black lab > is heartworm free!!! The country doc treatment worked! Yeah!

meanwhile...

cross your fingers for my sis. she finally got fed up with the BIG Dink.

the BIG Day is coming...

Sept. 23rd, 1998

The plumbing dilemma...

We've had trouble enough getting a plumber over here. Earlier this week, we had a couple of older, mustachcioed cowboys show up. Flannel shirts, faded blue jeans and cigarette smoke.

They would have looked right at home sitting on hay bales with beat-up guitars and a tired dog laying nearby.

The problem with the plumbing is the rather tight crawlspace wherein the plumbing and gas line tie-in lies. One of the country men climbed into the crawlspace to have a look see. Darn tight he says < if you're a real big guy you'd never fit >. And, to top it all off - the plumbing drain in the kitchen runs uphill. Not good. That means that the kitchen main drain has to be replaced and re-routed so that gravity drains the line. Since the addition is off the back of the kitchen, the drain for the washer runs off the same drain line that needs replacement.

...the mustachioed cowboy plumbers nix the job entirely, leaving us back at ground zero.

I guess that it would be appropriate to ask the next plumber < s > we can catch on the phone if they are relatively thin and totally non-claustrophobic. If they don't fit that criteria they probably shouldn't bother coming over and checking out the job.

You almost have to assume something like this is going to happen whenever you do anything. Especially with an old house. But, hey - SOMEBODY crawled under the house and plumbed it before. It's not like it can't be done. It can be.

Finding the right person for this particular job is the trickier part of the equation. Yes, I've resigned myself to the fact that it may not happen until next spring. I don't like the idea - but, you do what you have to do at times.

Liking it has very little to do with it.

Sept. 24th, 1998

The BIG D< elivery >

For all intents and purposes, it appears that the Mr. was served divorce papers yesterday when he returned home from work. Sis didn't stay at the house last night, and, Mom kept the kids.

Laura was in the area after a patient visit last night after dark and drove by their house. When she glanced over, she noticed his car backed into the driveway with the trunk and doors open. She didn't see him but it appeared that he may have been gathering things. The house appeared dark.

Right before I left for work this morning, sis called from their house. He must have received the papers because he had taken his clothes, all of the radios, and - get this:

he also took all of the knives from the kitchen.

Was taking the knives a psychological ploy? A month or so earlier, he had removed the guns from the residence and would not reveal their location.

A few days ago, there he was pushing her around and calling her every name he could think of < doubtful he thought of any new ones >. In the course of knocking her around, she ended up bruised and he ended up denying he did it. He left and stayed at his Mother's house after he threatened suicide for the umpteenth time.

Sis did file earlier in the week for a personal order of protection to keep him away from her. As I write, the judge has yet to sign it. Nevertheless, I'm also doubtful that it will offer her any real "protection" from this unstable man anyway.

Do I think he would actually commit suicide?

Maybe. Yes. It is a possibility < the ultimate act of revenge in this case >. Yet, it is one that I don't wish on him or his family < especially his children >. I wouldn't wish that on anyone ever. Not even Mr. Asshole.

With this scenario, ANYTHING is a possibility. There is no comfort to be found in the picture. The crazy conduct potential will peak over the next several months.

I will not live this life I have in fear. I can't. It would paralyze me from truly living. I refuse to give something outside of myself such control over me < like I have >. I'll deal with whatever fate ultimately brings my way, with no choice on my part < except the decision of not worrying now >.

Yes. Strength can be forced.

Sometimes you have to. It's not about choice. It's not about liking it.

hmmm.....

And, that's the way it is. Like it or not - here we go.

Sept. 25th, 1998

Sis is reluctantly moving back out to the little house in the city that her friend owns. She was sad about it but knew it was necessary. Today was moving day and she rented a truck. Laura went over to help her < while I was stuck at the office > prior to her own work day, and, Dave took the afternoon off to help out, too.

She was led to believe by her lawyer that she and the kids could stay in the house and the Mr. would have to leave, but that isn't the way things turned out; and there's no way that she will stay there with him. He can't be forced out of the house because his name is on it and hers isn't. She got that news late yesterday afternoon and she was not exactly happy about it.

As for the order of protection - the judge signed an order preventing him from "harassing her" and, that was it. As for what "harassment" covers and what the penalty would be for not following the order - I'm not sure since I haven't seen it.  I thought there were already laws in place against that type of behavior anyway.

Last night I went home and tried not to think about any of this too hard.

I worked in the addition last evening and had a exceedingly productive evening. I hung and wired a new light fixture outside near the door. I installed a keyless fixture < which is essentially a cheap bare bulb holder > and begun preparing materials for weekend work. Work that entails the installation and wiring of the remaining outdoor light fixtures.

Whoopee...

Sept. 26th, 1998

Sis couldn't get a sitter for the 3 kids today so, Laura and I had ‘em here. The youngest is under 2, the oldest is 7 and the mid-kid is 4. She had to work an extra long day for the catering service and wouldn't be getting out until about 9 tonight.

I made myself get up the first time I glanced at the clock. It was 6:30. Mom and Dave had the kids and were heading out of town and would drop them off later this morning. I needed to get an early start with the kids coming. And, it's a good thing I did.

By the time the kids arrived it was just after 10:00.

They want to climb the ladder and climb up on the scaffold.

They want a drink.

Or, can they drill something with the cordless drill?

Can we watch cartoons?

Will we have a fire later?

The littlest one of the bunch isn't speaking much, but, has fast feet despite short legs. Add typical lilliputian hands to seize anything within clutching distance and an inquisitive nature and you have a normal kid. A kid that'll grab a screwdriver and start running with it in a nanosecond. The same kid that will giggle like crazy showing off new baby teeth and gleaming eyes when you take it away a step later.

I had a few more things to do before I could retire the ladder. Thank God Laura was there to keep an eye on the little one, I couldn't have completed the mission without her being there.

I spent the afternoon wondering how in the hell my sister kept her sanity the past few years. How in the hell she ever ran a day care center and dealt with the Mr. I'll never know.

Sept. 27th, 1998

Sister and the kids spent the night last night. The baby woke everyone up early. We made coffee and sat around talking for a good hour while the kids ran around.

The kids played in the dirt before playing in the bathtub together with an assortment of plastic cowboys, Indians and horses. Trinket-like injection molded toys. Toys which rode in a yellow tugboat for the first 10 seconds.

Laura and I had a whirlpool suite reserved at a local inn later today. A welcome getaway for pulsating, concrete stomping feet...

...and, a mind to match.

Meanwhile, sis would be at the little place in the city trying to make some order out of the move. I still had a few hours available to work. And so I did.

I trimmed off the protruding rafter ends from the existing house < inside the addition > with the sawzall. Tricky work that went surprisingly well. That's if you don't count eating a little 60 year old sawdust.

Sept. 28th, 1998

Ahhhhhh! We're back. The whirlpool was great... once we had keys to the room.

Laura made the reservations via phone and I went up to the front desk of the Inn with the cash in hand to check in. Senior citizens floated in pairs and triplets amid the lobby. I noticed all of their clothing appeared to have been freshly ironed and their hairdos most certainly did.

Can I help you? The voice boomed coming from an enormous black woman. Her 2 inch airbrushed nails tapped at the keyboard behind the Inn's desk. Fascinating to watch her hands-back to compensate for tips typing away without error. Her skintight lime green flashy beaded outfit strained by breasts nearly the size of my head each. The outfit was topped off by translucent green chandalierish earrings that made the holes in her ears appear to be teardrops. These puppies hung down onto her shoulders and swayed when she said,

Huh?!

Well, after searching the computer and swinging those earrings around - she finally finds it.

Somebody switched a letter in the name < I once was lost but now I'm found >.

Temporary glitch aside: The whirlpool was superb.