Me and Daddy in 1969

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. --Robert Frost

Thank you all for the kind comments, e-hugs and words of comfort. I didn't know my heart could break into so many pieces. The pain is almost unbearable. Daddy would have been 70 this May. I keep thinking maybe if I go ahead and dial his number he will answer and it will all be over...and we will talk about what an awful time we had to go through together. The poem above was one he used to quote to me. It was read at his funeral service.

News for Hatamaran readers

Hello, folks. This is Barry from Inn of the Last Home, guest-blogging for Teresa. I volunteered to post this for her readers, since I know how much she cares about each of you and considers your friendship very valuable. Well, she's going to need it more than ever...

Teresa's father passed away suddenly this past Saturday. It was a great shock to her and her family, and she will be taking a short hiatus from her site until things are back in order. I'm sure she would appreciate any comments and words of encouragement you can give.

I don't know specifically what she would ask in memorials, but if I may suggest memorial gifts to any of the charities she lists to the left - such as the one to save the wild horses - or to your local animal shelter would be appreciated.

I don't know if she gives out her email address, but if you'd like to send her a note feel free to send it to lasthome@gmail.com and I'll make sure she gets them.

In her stead, I thank you in advance and God bless.

mystery gifts...

I got a box from Amazon a couple of days ago. It was on the porch when I got home from work and I thought surely, as broke as I am, I didn't order something and forget I ordered it...but I had my doubts (it's happened before!). I snatched up the package and ran in the door lest the husband see me with a package during a time of such dismal fiscals.

I opened it and there were two books from my wish list from a person in Sacramento. I didn't recognize the sender's name (I write that with fear; should I know this person?) and no message was included.

I wasn't really sure what to do. I think I will send a thank-you note to this person for the generous gift (one was a creative fabric book and the other was a memoir called Running with Scissors), but should I do something else? Is there etiquette for mystery gifts?

It's much like I got invited to a exclusive dinner party where there are too many forks. The food looks delicious but I don't know how to properly eat it.

Any thoughts?

p.s. If the person is a blogreader and is reading this, THANK YOU! I don't know what prompted such a gift, but it sure was a wonderful surprise. :-)

ignite...

Now that we've gotten some financial relief, I have to get back to living and not worrying myself to death. I need to climb back up Maslow's Hierarchy and get beyond the feeling of "just surviving." More art. More writing. More adventure. More growth.

...except for my hair. A little over a year ago it was quite long and now (the pic to the right) it is quite short. I like it. Now I need to get some poundage off of the caboose. When I stress I eat and drink more than I should and it shows. I need to get healthier. I really hate exercise, but I always try to make it my "reading time" and take a good book. Oh well, you play, you pay.

And I found another felt-related blog at Ursonate. She has a very cool project going--one felt hat a week for a year.

And here's my little TV-watchin' buddy, Grayson. He loves to curl up on mama's lap if I'm watching the tube or knitting a bit. We got him back in 1993 when he was nothing but a tiny lost kitten on a country road. Papa sneaked him into the apartment in a duffle bag. When he unzipped the bag, out popped a little gray-striped head with bright blue eyes. "Mew!!!!" I was in love.


Happy Monday.

amygdala du jour, escape behavior and the will to diversion...

earth to brain...
I keep saying I need a vacation. I keep saying that. I keep NOT taking a vacation. I don't remember the last vacation I had, other than to take days off to study or get ready for a show. Yo, brain, get the wax outta your ears. Take a vacation (a non-working vacation, you idiot). I'm half "checked-out" at this point anyway...I need to get my ass out of here for a few days.

"Noted," Brain says.

"Yeah," says Worn-out Soul. "That's the email response I got from that purse hardware place when I ordered their catalog. Nothing happened."

"Get off of my back," Brain retorts.

Worn-out Soul merely snorts at the rebuttal. "You'd better listen to me. If you don't have me, you're pretty much useless."

"You are such a cocky SOB," Brain says while sticking out its frontal lobe lip.

"For a thinking-sort, you're one hell of wuss," says Worn-out Soul. "Pull your lip back in and quit acting like a thalamus. Good grief."

Brain walks off in a synaptic snit. "You know, you think too much."

Worn-out Soul rolls its eyes and lets out a tired sigh.

[fade to black...or in my case, kettle-dyed purple]

In other news, I went to a local knitting meet-up at a coffee-shop downtown last night. It was a little stiff, but it may loosen up a little. I felt like the "old coot" in the group. We'll give it another try...the next meeting is in two weeks.

I've been tagged...

Knitting Pretty tagged me a while back and I'm finally fulfilling my obligation as "tag-ee."

1. Total amount of music files on your computer: this one (work)? none.
2. The last CD you bought: American Idiot by Green Day and Keane (bought the same day).
3. The last song you listened to before reading this message: Hell, I don't know. I'm going to say "Everloving" by Moby. Man, I LOVE that song. I bought the Seabiscuit soundtrack for it and it was the only damn song not included. It took me a month to figure out who did it and where it came from. It's just about the only song on the CD I listen to.
4. Name five songs you listen to often or that mean a lot to you: Hell, I just answered this question. I'll just pick five more: 1. "A Day in the Life,"
Beatles, 2. "Living for the City," Stevie Wonder, 3. "I Wish," Stevie Wonder, 4. "Clocks," Cold Play, 5. "Love Lies Bleeding," Elton John, and one more for the road, 6. "Space Oddity," David Bowie.
5. Who will you pass this stick to (3 people) and why? Crap, I don't know. Ummmmmm...
a) Critter Chick, because I think she might be my long, lost twin (despite our age difference),
b) Purls Before Swine, because she makes me laugh out loud,
c) Kat's Paws, because she's just so lovable

Happy Valentine's Day...

millan.net
Guys: Don't forget to show your sweetheart how much you love her.
Gals: Stop being slaves to advertisements for expensive gifts. It's just plain shallow and will guarantee a rotten Valentine's Day. No guy can live up to those ridiculous and shallow ads for diamonds and other sundry adornments.
Everyone: Have a nice dinner together. Talk about your future. Tell your significant other how important he or she is to you. Reminisce about great times. Laugh. BE together. Be GENUINE.
That's your assignment. Go forth and woo.

some interesting information...

I get Google alerts on the horse slaughter issue (did you figure out I'm the one doing the Stop Horse Slaughter blog?) and came across an off-topic article that just happened to contain my search words. It is a plea for US soldiers, especially Latinos, to leave the war and become protected friends of the Iraqis. Regardless of my own opinion, I firmly believe you have to pay attention to information from all sides of an issue. It's easy to only listen to one source of information, but doesn't help you make up your mind about issues, it makes up your mind for you. Here's the link.

well, that didn't take long...

I guess my Last Nerve heard me calling. About five minutes after I wrote my lamenting diatribe dripping with self-pity, the phone rang. One last ditch effort came through and things are going to get better. It was on the verge of a miracle. Everything had fallen through. I was crying in people's offices. I could feel the vacuum from the flush...I was going down. But then the very last door opened. And I am pinching myself. Hell, I'm pimp-slapping myself. I've been laughing all weekend and it's good to hear my old cackle ring out and scrape the paint.

Yes, I'm being vague. Just make up some stories for your own enjoyment, m'kay? You knew I'd be back sooner than later, didn't you? You knew I couldn't keep my little busy fingers away from the keyboard. So I'm predictable. There are worse things.

Take a look at this fine young kitty...I'm pretty sure Yuki is going to be pretty comfortable here at the Hatamaran abode. And, the "Yukster" has graduated to the cat door with nary a stray poo. Chez meow.

An open letter to find My Last Nerve...

Dearest Last Nerve,

It's been some time since we shared a good crisis together and I miss your synaptic sizzle when life is being rapidly flushed down the toilet. I didn't appreciate you then, but now I know how much you really meant to me. You made me nice and toasty with high blood pressure when it was so drafty in our old house; you gave me rosy cheeks by singeing my little capillaries.

Oh, how I miss you and your silly antics. I didn't know you were my friend. I wish you would come back to me.

You've been replaced by a worrisome flood of adrenaline that just makes me ache all over and causes me to wake up at all hours of the night. You would be so pissed off if you could see how Cousin Adrenaline takes over. He is so pushy! His blood pressure joystick is out of control. You, dear Last Nerve, were thoughtful enough to not give me constant headaches and were kind enough to obey when BP meds were applied to control your naughty behavior. Cousin Adrenaline listens to no one! Not even Ace inhibitors...he finds a way around them all.

Oh, beloved, sweet Last Nerve, you came up with so many quips and comebacks that were so delicious and deserved and now I can only respond with Cousin Adrenaline's "deer-in-the-headlights" expression. I didn't know how clever you really were.

When this crisis is over, I hope you'll come back; however, if I'm living in a cardboard box, I won't feel animosity toward you if you decide to attach yourself to another central nervous system.

Missing you,
Teresa

p.s. this blog is on hiatus until I can get a grip...don't hold your breath :-)

really.

You're in touch with the world, and you have a very
strong opinion on things like politics and war.
Even if you do end up changing your image in
the future, most of us will still like you.


What band from the 80s are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

All hail the Chief (and Secretary) of Misery and Comeuppance...

Is anyone else "bothered" by the continuing march of the Psycho Brigade? My God, I'm starting to think I need to build a fucking bunker under the cellar. Where did these people learn their communication skills, Nazi-wannabe-camp?

I am incredulous at the audacity of our President and Secretary of State to order the world as if it were a game of "Global Monopoly." Honest-to-God, tact can be useful in diplomatic missions. I don't want any country to have nuclear weapons, but I don't want to piss them off so bad they go into mass production either. Has anyone sent them a memo that we really do ONLY have jurisdiction over our own country? To hell with embarrassment, I am AFRAID.

Tough U.S. stance on Iran brings echoes of Iraq debate

America's tough rhetoric on Iran

I can't seem to handle it...

I've been working on some more "structural" purses without seams. I really like the colors and design of this little bag, but I can't seem to get the handles on it. I've thought about putting on them on a thousand ways. I know I won't put manufactured handles on it and I'm pretty sure the handles will be of the orange/rust persuasion (to match the horizon line on the bag), but my brain cells can't seem to come to a consensus as to the attachment, thickness and style. Harrrruuuummmmmmph! Note: Click the image to open the bag.

This is a kind of prototype bag, so I'm keeping it for myself...I'm not 100 percent pleased with it. I also didn't go through the trouble of putting a lining in it, which is something I would definitely do if I was going to put it up for sale. The bag is sitting on some flat pieces of felt I hope to turn into some cylindrical bags (I'm kind of obsessed with swirls if you didn't notice).

Ah, censorship...

Monday sucks, oh how it SUCKS Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay
my oh my, I'm writhing with cramps today My, oh my, what a wonderful day
It's supposed to f*cking rain today Plenty of sunshine headed my way
don't hand me that shit, it's Monday Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay

watchout someone will shoot his ass off your shoulder Mister Bluebird on my shoulder
I don't think it's spelled that way It's the truth, it's actch'll
I really don't care how you spell it...I feel like shit Ev'rything is satisfactch'll
Why don't you zip it and stuff that sunshine up your bunghole Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay
Uh-huh. Bite me...Wonderful feeling, wonderful day!

corduroy sculptures have attacked my cabeza...

What do you do when your brain feels like crumpled up corduroy? I'm not talking supple Banana Republ1c all cotton corduroy, I'm talking about that K-M@rt crap you wore in 5th grade (which would be 1976 for me) and crumpled up in the corner of your closet only to find it 10 years later posing as a strange sculpture encrusted with dust.

Dry. Crumpled. Permanently creased. Spent.

I am tired and stressed at the moment. Even people with no teeth and extra-long mullets can't make me laugh. That's a crisis, dammit.

I don't like my brains dry and dusty. I like my brains gooey and full of electricity. Must get rid of corduroy. I never liked the stuff much anyway (unless of course it's stretch baby wale, but that's an another entry...)

Send me some synaptic snuggles, people. La cabeza has no humidity...

Amended Version of the American Horse Slaughter Prevention Act Reintroduced--HR 503

The 109th Congress is finally getting the message that Americans are appalled by horse slaughter in general and outraged by the possibility of our wild horses and burros suffering the same fate in particular.

Americans are WRITING LETTERS. Americans are TELLING OTHER AMERICANS about the practice. Please write your letter and ask your senator or representative to support horse protection legislation. Let your representatives know that you want them to cosponsor HR 297 (to prevent our wild horses and burros from slaughter) and HR 503 to protect all American horses.

What's the point? WE, AS AMERICANS, DO NOT RAISE HORSES FOR FOOD. HORSES ARE CONSIDERED COMPANIONS IN THIS COUNTRY. WHY ARE WE SLAUGHTERING THEM FOR SOMEONE ELSE TO EAT? It's a bastardization of our own cultural standards, and God knows we don't have many to begin with.

Everything you need to help out (e.g. write a letter, make a phone call) is on the STOP HORSE SLAUGHTER weblog. I'm watching the issue closely so you can be informed and tell others (PLEASE, PRETTY PLEASE?).

FACTOID: Did you know many famous racehorses have been felled by slaughterhouses? Ferdinand, Kentucky Derby Winner and Exceller, the only horse to ever defeat two Triple Crown winners, are just two. Someone ATE them after they were deemed no longer useful. Disgusting.

just a little chuckle...

This new warning system may save thousands of men in their own homes. CLICK HERE.

quit beating around the Bush, would'ya?

The Speech Bush Should Have Given... Jiminy Crickets, I had to readjust my tie after that one. I found the link, of all places, at Baghdad Burning. She has a book deal and you can even pre-order it from Amazon now.

No, let's NOT do the time-warp again...

But yet, here I am, having fallen asleep at 5 a.m. this morning, pecking out rabble-rousing, incoherent, snot-covered dribble for the masses. What the fork? Salad or dinner, you ask?

Gosh, it only took me four hours to get through my phone calls and emails from being out sick for ONE day. What the spoon? Wait, that's not funny. What the utensil? Also, not funny.

Just when you get used to sizzling in the bowels of hell, something worse happens and you find out a whole new batch of bile is coming down the proverbial pike to rough up your last nerve. Yea, I speak of "The Last Straw." And I'm not talking about a flexible straw either.

What dost thou speaketh of fair cuticle-gnawer, you ask? Prey tell, I ain't gonna tell. It's one step up from the cardboard box and the soup line. It's one step down from just about everything. It's finger-gnawing bad. It's risk and maybe no reward. It's a dumbass beginning every line with "It's."

What the hell? I used to be kind of a lucky person. When did I get to be fodder for geese with severe diarrhea? You can only fart around in the bowels of fate so long before you start to smell like shit.

I guess it's a good thing I have a bad cold. I can't smell a darn thing.

Love and kisses, y'all.

bored and full of snot...

Surfing is about the only thing I can muster from my Mighty Phlegm-bubble of Doom. Anyway, I saw this over at Twilight Cafe and it made me laugh out loud. Her results were funnier than mine. I'm just a damn soup. WTF?

You are Inspiration Soup!! You live to Inspire
those around you with your green beany, white
chunky, red soupy goodness. Many have come and
lit candles in your honor. You've inspired
them to become better people. Thank you,
Inspiration Soup... thank you.


What Weight Watchers recipe card from 1974 are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

oh yeah? scumble this...

Ever seen scumbling? You crocheters and knitters will like this if you have not been exposed to it already.

The master, Prudence Mapstone at www.knotjustknitting.com is pretty amazing...my hat from a few posts ago will be in Prudence's next Virtual Hat Gallery. Oh, and it's for sale at $95 plus shipping. The client I made it for wanted different colors. Oh well.

Back to mumbling about scumbling...here's some more scumblers from all over the world at this gallery...

Speaking of hats you should visit Nini K...she has some very unique and lovely styles...they are knitted and beaded...


AND, you MUST SEE the YARN CAR!! Tim Klein, art car creator, has covered a vintage 1967 Imperial with four miles of yarn. Believe it or not, it's beautiful!


Me? I'm still down and out with the crud...I've had to stick my lung back in at least twice tonight...tastes a lot like liver...soy liver that is (you know I'm a vegetarian!)

who peed in my pool (and watched it go down)?

Life has been very serious lately, which is quite irritating. It triples the final zit headcount, not to mention encouraging obsessive-compulsive behavior such as chewing off my cuticles like a ravenous opposum until I'm using a box of Band-A1ds every week. Hell, who am I kidding? I don't buy "Band-A1d brand bandages," I buy corner drugstore "used-only-twice" bandages. "Laden with toxic substances and an extra layer of latex for allergy-sufferers." What's wrong with recyling? Ok fine. The truth is I just wrap bathroom tissue around them and hope they stop bleeding before I'm put in the lock-down ward.

Well enough about me and my curmudgeon-ness. Yuki, our newest feline, also now known as "Yuki-padookie," is completely obsessed with the inner workings of our toilet. Apparently treasures previously unknown to kittydom exist just past the disappearing of the dookie. Yuki does not understand when things disappear they do not implode, self-destruct or cease to exist. They just go somewhere else and stink just as bad as before.

Yuki also likes to watch my husband's pee stream hit the water. Yesterday he had to stop peeing and close the lid to keep from dousing Yuki's head. "The hole! The hole!" Yuki says, "I must know what is beyond the hole!"

Life is not nearly as interesting when I do my elimination dance and he only gets excited when I am up and ready to flush. You can almost see him tingle with anticipation. "Meee-ooooowwwww! What a show! Where does yonder water go I must ask? What's that brown boat doing in there? Watch it go around, around, AROUND! How can this be?!"

Well, that's enough of that nonsense. I have a terrible cold and I don't feel like doing shit...not even on the toilet to entertain Yuki-padookie.

maybe this has already landed in your e-mail, but...

...it's still pretty funny (even if you like the war-mongering nut).

Q. How many Bush Administration officials does it take to change a light
bulb?

A. None. There is nothing wrong with the light bulb, and its conditions
are improving every day. Any reports of its lack of incandescence are a
delusional spin from the liberal media. That light bulb has served
honorably and anything you say undermines the lighting effect. Why do you
hate freedom?

And please, please, please write to your representative and ask them to support the newly introduced bill (HR 297) which would protect our wild horses from slaughter!

feeling fine and felty...

I was glad to finish (almost except for details like hat band, etc) this custom hat. After sweating through December with pet death, sickness and general worry oozing out every pore, it was good to finish something. I do like the colors and I'm not a navy sort of gal. Hopefully the client will like it and I'll send it off. If not, I'll offer this one up for sale and make another for her. Hey, I am soooo flexible, no?

a little foresight never hurt anyone...

Markham has a good post today on thinking beyond today when it comes to behavioral services. I am not sure why common sense tends to elude those who oversee or reimburse mental health services. You can't grow a garden if you take the seeds from the ground. You just have to pay to replant over and over.

title withheld for security reasons...

(decided to delete...)

What did you wear to the ball...a backless gown?

Some thoughts for a day like today...

Not until the creation and maintenance of decent conditions of life for all people are recognized and accepted as a common obligation of all people and all countries - not until then shall we, with a certain degree of justification, be able to speak of humankind as civilized.
--Albert Einstein

It isn't enough to talk about peace. One must believe in it. And it isn't enough to believe in it. One must work at it.
--Eleanor Roosevelt

The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it.
--Albert Einstein

The sole advantage of power is that you can do more good.
--Baltasar Gracian, The Art of Worldly Wisdom, 1647

Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding.
--Albert Einstein

You cannot simultaneously prevent and prepare for war.
--Albert Einstein

Mankind must put an end to war before war puts an end to mankind.
--John F. Kennedy

A people that values its privileges above its principles soon loses both.
--Dwight D. Eisenhower

War will exist until that distant day when the conscientious objector enjoys the same reputation and prestige that the warrior does today.
--John F. Kennedy

Problems cannot be solved by the same level of thinking that created them.
--Albert Einstein

Are bombs the only way of setting fire to the spirit of a people? Is the human will as inert as the past two world-wide wars would indicate?
--Gregory Clark

Never do anything against conscience even if the state demands it.
--Albert Einstein

I have always held firmly to the thought that each one of us can do a little to bring some portion of misery to an end.
--Albert Schweitzer

The awareness that we are all human beings together has become lost in war and through politics. We have reached the point of regarding each other only as members of a people either allied with us or against us and our approach; prejudice, sympathy, or antipathy are all conditioned by that. Now we must rediscover the fact that we--all together--are human beings, and that we must strive to concede to each other what moral capacity we must have.
--Albert Schweitzer

It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.
--Jiddu Krishnamurti

Man can hardly even recognize the devils of his own creation.
--Albert Schweitzer

the epitome of tolerance...

That would be me. Think I'm a braggart? An arrogant, self-serving smartass? Well, let me tell you, I haven't been on a vacation in more than four years and my husband is coming home tonight after week in Paris, Interloken and Zurich. Now, capitalize that "e" on Epitome will you? No, not Paris, Tennessee (there is one, you know); Paris, France. How do you say "I'm gonna kick your ass" in French?

Even though we are broke as hell...wait, capitalize that "h," too...we're about six months out from making normal money again. Hubby's training period will be over and commissions will increase. I just hope I can hang on for this last little bit without having something repossessed.

Anyway, I am actually happy he got to go, although I was insanely jealous when he called me from The Louvre and said he was about to walk over to the Eiffel Tower.

How did he go considering our paltry resources? His boss takes the guys on trips about twice a year. So, dear hubby has been to the Florida coast several times, Vail and now an international trip. Yes, honey, you will be taking me on many, many wonderful trips when things get back to normal.

Who takes a "guy" trip to Paris? I just told him to keep his hands off all those braless French broads. I will be very happy to have him back tonight. Warm hugs all around.

it's okay, my time is worth nothing...

Yesterday, I had to go to the gyn-oh-no for a consult. I had a hormone study done and an ultrasound a while back and I had returned to talk about the results. My appointment was at 2:15. I parked at 2:13, waited for the elevator for nearly five minutes and signed in about 2:19. I expected my consult to take about 10 minutes and it did...at 4:15.

At 4:15 p.m.

Did I tell you my appointment was at 2:15?

The main waiting room had three GOLF magazines in it. Apparently, some staff-whack has a sadistic sense of humor.

The second waiting room (there's a second tier of waiting rooms for specific doctors) had better magazines, but not by much. The exam room I waited in had some good magazines, but by then I was pissed off, playing with the exam table lights and noticing the permanent creases in my pants from sitting for so long.

My doc came in and said my estrogen was a little low so she changed my prescription. She said my fibroids were back--one about the size of a "50-cent piece" (a GOLF ball size no less) and one about the size of a dime. "Keep track of everything on the calendar and come back in March," she said. I told her I struggle with PMS. She wrote it down on the chart so I could see it. Before leaving she gave me a big smile and said, "Sorry about your wait today."

Four-fifteen. And I didn't complain because I knew no one would care. And I paid for it because I had to.

Doc, this hemmorhoid is for you.

today...

	"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction....The chain reaction of evil--hate begetting hate, wars producing more wars--must be broken, or we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation."
"Our scientific power has outrun our spiritual power. We have guided missiles and misguided men."
"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy." --Martin Luther King Jr., Strength to Love, 1963
Still worth reading. Still not heeded by many from common folk to world leaders.

Yuki this, Yuki that...

Well, the new kitty got a name--Yuki! (Yoo-kee). It's a Japanese name meaning "snow" or "lucky." I had originally named him "Yukiko," which means "snow child," but I found out it was a female name. Fortunately, Yuki was a male name. He's a pretty funny cat and is just starting to really show his personality. When he wants to check something out above eye-level, Yuki stands up on his haunches with his forelimbs hanging limp just like a meerkat. Nighttime is fun because he loves to chase your toes through the covers. He also thinks he's completely hidden if his head is covered. Uh, Yuki, I can still see about 14 pounds of you... And, speaking of poundage, Yuki REALLY likes to eat. Rooney is the only one who's not totally adjusted. He walks up to Yuki and meow-yells at him. Then he walks off in a huff. I think he'll be all right though. It doesn't help that he's still not feeling great. Yuki was assimilated into the menagerie with nary one fight! :-)

The name Yuki A history-buff friend of mine sent me some interesting tidbits about the name Yuki. She writes: "Yuki was a mixed breed dog found by President Johnson's daughter, Luci Nugent, at a gas station in Texas on Thanksgiving Day in 1966, while on her way to the LBJ Ranch. Luci named the dog "Yuki" from "Yukimas," which means "snow" in Japanese. At first, Yuki lived with Luci, but while visiting the White House, Yuki won the President's heart and became his faithful companion. On the President's birthday, August 27, 1967, Luci told her father that he could keep Yuki. When President Johnson left office on January 20, 1969, Yuki returned to LBJ Ranch with the President on Air Force One. After Johnson's death in January 1973, Yuki went to live with Luci Johnson Nugent and her family. Yuki died in 1979. I read somewhere where Yuki even made a recording...singing, of course."

40 my ass...

You Are 33 Years Old

33 Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

lest we forget "never again"...

I hope the movie Hotel Rwanda gets released close enough for me to go see it. Rather than re-hash what Me and Ophelia has done so well, I'll point you in her direction. I find the review she excerpts especially poignant and he asks some of the same questions I have asked...what about "never again?" When do we decide mass murder is worth our troops or aid? There seems to be some disparity.

THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! FOR ALL THE WONDERFUL BIRTHDAY WISHES. IT MADE GETTING OLD AND CREAKY THAT MUCH MORE FUN! :-)

so much for that...

	Despite buying ruby slippers and crossing my fingers, toes and unsightly nosehairs, I turned 40 anyway. We went to dinner last night with my mom, brother and his wife and my brother was "kind" enough to bring a huge bouquet of black balloons into the crowded restaurant. Gonna' getcha' sucka!
And we did in fact welcome a new kitty into our home (a birthday gift from hubby). I still can't find the right name for him, but he is a big (15 lb. or so!) love lump. We thought we'd get a younger cat to keep our older kitties active, but so far he's lazier than they are! No major spats have occurred but we've had some rolling of the eyes and pissy hissing. He's going to fit in just fine though.
	We didn't set out to get a kitty like Baxter, but when we met him, we just fell in love with him. He's a big galoot and very cuddly. He's solid white except for the two grey smudges on his head. As you can see in the photo to the left, Atticus was NOT amused when we brought him home. He is watching us as we let the new kitty out of the carrier downstairs.
Thirty-nine yesterday; 40 today. What the hell. I took the day off (a present to myself!) and tonight hubby and I are going to dinner at one my favorite restaurants. We'll whoop it up like middle-aged people do. Har. Har? THANKS FOR ALL THE BIRTHDAY WISHES! THAT LESLIE!

PLEASE WRITE NOW...

Our lawmakers are back in session. Now is the time to send a letter urging your senators and representatives to support the American Horse Slaughter Prevention Act (HR 857 in the House) and (bill S. 2352 in the Senate).

Start with this letter:

in Word

Plain Text

Customize it and send it to your REPRESENTATIVES and SENATORS.

IF YOU NEED MORE INFORMATION, LOOK ON THE NAV BAR TO THE LEFT. Don't that cocksucker Burns get away with sneaking repulsive riders into a freakin' appropriations bill.

PHOTOS HERE

this and that...

Noted: Bloggers bloggin' the news are making changes in media institutions. Link
In far more important news, we are meeting a little kitty named "Comet" tonight for possible adoption. We're JUST looking...
If you haven't been there, and I almost hesitate to give you the link, go see waveofdestruction.org. The photos of the tsunami as it happened are pretty amazing. The unsorted photos have a warning on them and quite frankly I wouldn't go there. Some of the images will be burned into my mind forever. DON'T BE A BUTTHOLE AND LEAVE THE SITE WITHOUT DONATING A LITTLE BIT (unless of course you've already done your part). They have all the links to the proper organizations right there for you. If my broke ass can give a little anyone can--even if it's the price of a fast-food lunch.
	You'll have to answer to Van G0gh and Jack if you take without giving.

the Ralphie report...

Sorry you didn't get the Ralphie report yesterday. It seemed as though the lima beans were not the problem, but a stomach virus--either that or the lima beans were filled with laxatives. Anyway.
Ralphie has a girlfriend. We named her Manilow because her nose is longer than Ralphie's. We know Manilow is a girl because we caught them having a great time together right in our fireplace. Unfortunately, I couldn't get to my camera fast enough to capture the moment. The funny thing was Manilow was completely bored by Ralphie's tremendous efforts. She ate sunflower seeds while he did the work. Even the squirrels...
Ralphie is also a great communicator. When he runs out of water he jumps on the chain screen inside the fireplace door and causes a clatter. When you walk over he jumps down to the empty saucer and then jumps up on the top of the logs and looks at you while he swishes his tail as if to say, "Get me my water, you slacker! Chop! Chop!" Then he zips up the hole and lets us fill up the saucer. Down he (and sometimes Manilow with him) comes afterward to fresh water. He's a demanding little rodent. Truth be known, my husband does most of the Ralphie-tending.
	Rooney is quite spitooney these days. He's still not his old self, but he's definitely better. We're keeping the litterboxes super clean to encourage as much pooping as possible. He hates getting medicine twice a day, but that's the way the dookie crumbles.
Grayson got his third colloidal oatmeal sponge bath last night and is doing a lot better. He doesn't even fight much when I sponge him down--apparently it feels very soothing. He seems to be doing okay eating Rooney's super-high-fiber-poop-producing food (in fact, everyone is eating it, with vet approval of course). And, I turn 40 next Monday (about which I could not care less). And, I'm very behind in getting a custom hat done for someone. Grrr! And, I'm still broke. But, I'm not as angst-ridden about it as I was. And that's good.

take me to lima...

No, not Peru, lima, as in lima beans. I ate a whole can of them at lunch. I feel my world moving forward at a pace faster than before. I know, TMI.

Rooney is not quite feeling spitooney just yet, but when I delivered his super-high-fiber-poopin'-fuel to the door during my lunch break today...lest his highness wait until the end of the day to get his colon rollin'--we ran out last night...he met me at the front door. That's spitooney behavior...pre-concrete-colon-Rooney-behavior. Yip! Yip! Dear Philanthropist footed the bill today for the $25 bag of food (available only from the vet, of course), with the rest applied to the remaining vet bill--thank you, again, whoever you are.

I got about two hours of sleep last night and rolled to and fro thinking about how to make ends meet, about how I can get Rooney to take a crap, and how I can stop Grayson from ripping his skin off. Yes, Grayson has joined in to provide extra angst by having an allergic reaction to the expensive food I bought to HELP his skin. Note, it said on the bag in large letters "Sensitive Skin" and yammered on about how the proteins used in the food are uniquely formulated for cats with food allergies and itching. Grayson was almost scab-free when I proudly set down the bowl of yummy brown crunchies. Then, poof! His cheeks and eyes got red and swollen and he launched a scratching campaign that left his neck bald and raw, his sides scabby and his right ear scratched up. I'm trying to get him squared away without creating another huge vet bill--sprays, wipes, aloe vera, change of food, etc. If he shows any signs of infection, I'll haul his hairy ass off to the vet, but I haven't tried everything--yet. I'm going to give him an colloidal oatmeal BATH tonight.

No, I do NOT jest.

The cat WILL receive an oatmeal bath. I shall prevail over the itch.

(By the way, I think my bloodtype is A-positive if you'd like to donate tomorrow.)

New Year's Report: Gave Rooney his twice-daily laxative and colon-moistener-upper-goo, stared at wall, attempted to catch snippets of television programs while husband sped through channels, stared at wall again to orient myself to a constant point, watched rented movie "Open Water," thought about throwing myself from a bridge afterward, drank really cheap red wine, toasted no one but felt pretty toasty, kissed some half-asleep man holding a remote who looked like my husband at midnight, placed pajamas on body, slept like limestone, woke up like gravel.

Tune in tomorrow for the Ralphie (and Manilow) report...

happy birthday!

Jump over to Inn of the Last Home and wish him Happy Birthday!

stop the presses...

	Just when you've thrown in the towel and decided to order business cards with "professional misanthrope" printed on the front, something strange happens to remind you that the generosity of the human spirit is something to behold.
Yesterday when I retrieved the mail I noticed we got another Christmas card. There was no return address on it, so I was curious to see who it was from. Inside was a very cute, retro-looking Santa card. "Hmm," I thought, "very cute. Who's it from?" Inside was a personal note of condolences for Baxter and hopes for Rooney's improving health. It was signed "A friend and family." On the other side of the card a little half-envelope held a $10 bill. "Aww, gosh, what a generous and kind person!" I thought. When I took the $10 bill out, I discovered two $20 bills behind it.
I was floored and amazed. I'm thinking it could have been a fellow blogger, but I'm not really sure. If you are out there reading, dear philanthropist, know that your gift is greatly appreciated and will go toward Rooney's remaining vet bills. I am really quite speechless at such a sweet gesture and what I felt like was a huge gift. Thank you.
I think I'll hold off on printing those cards...

the stuff Santa is made of...

Sadie has one mission in life when it comes to toys--unstuff them as quickly as possible. We have to buy our toys for her at places like Big Lots because we just can't afford to spend $5 for every plush toy. Why don't we buy her toys that can't be ripped apart? She doesn't like them! She LIVES to unstuff dog toys. Here's she's giving one of her Christmas presents the old "one-two." She finds a weak spot, chews it open and begins throwing the stuffing out as fast as she can. You could put a steak in front of her and she wouldn't care until the toy is empty. It's quite the OCD behavior. Thankfully she spits out everything.

help tsunami victims if you can...

The Network for Good has put together a nice clearinghouse of organizations that are taking donations for the tsunami victims. The link is at the top of the left column or you can CLICK HERE.

Happy Birthday Ma!

Today is my mother's 71st birthday. The picture in this entry was probably taken in a photo booth around 1968 and I'm already copping an attitude (obviously I look like my dad). I feel so fortunate to still have my mother around since her own mother died when she was only 13 years old. She's always been very active and her hobby is woodworking--and work in general. This year has been the first time she's thought maybe she shouldn't always say "yes" when someone wants a deck built. She's the most mechanically inclined woman I know. I inherited absolutely none of it and she's fixed 1,000 things at our house with the enthusiasm of Bob V*lla. Sometimes I just worry myself sick over her as she gets older, but I suppose that's a waste of the time we have together. Happy Birthday Ma! Love ya' so much.

if you're the praying sort...

or if you are of the school of "sending good vibes," I'd say Sri Lanka, Indonesia and India could use some of that energy right now. Supposedly the Pacific Tsunami Warning Center in Honolulu had the warning information an hour before the giant waves crushed the shores, but they had no contact information for that part of the world. I suppose they do now.

The death toll was fairly close the population of my hometown. They are going to need everyone's help. Below are sites that offer ways to lend a hand:

The Red Cross International Response Fund (Note: this fund is not necessarily appropriated to one event but many throughout the year.)

World Vision Emergency Kits (I don't know a lot about this organization, but it appeared as a source of aid in a major Australian newspaper.)

Unicef's Emergency Relief Fund

Relief Web is a one-stop news source regarding the disaster.

Center for International Disaster Information

I just got CRAP for Christmas!

	Hoorah! The log o' poo has landed! No surgery! Rooney is coming home today. I am so happy he's moved the blockage out the back door. I was so terribly worried. I know it's hardly casserole-talk to discuss cat feces, but you just can't imagine how happy I am to know this problem is going to be resolved. It's just about the best Christmas present I could receive this year. I can't wait to go pick him up. The litter boxes at home are clean-as-a-whistle and ready for use. Atticus and Grayson (in pic) will be happy to see him.
We also had my family over for Christmas festivities. I've never laughed so much with them in my life. It was probably the best Christmas my family has ever had together. There are many things for which to be thankful, including the 12 wonderful years we had with a very funny cat named Baxter.

my cat is packin'...

Poop, that is. My little Rooney has severe constipation. He was really looking awful again this morning so I rushed him off to the vet on the way to work. X-rays from another angle today showed that the feared "mass" in his abdominal cavity is actually a giant pile of rock-hard crap. We were fooled by the diarrhea, but apparently it was shooting around the hard mass. He has lost another 1/2 pound in the last three days as well. Constipation is a diagnosis I can live with (yay!).
They have been giving him enemas and laxatives all day and I'm sure we'll have plenty of diet changes and instructions after he comes home. For now he will be spending the night at the Kitty Sump Pump. We hope to bring him home tomorrow. The worst case scenario is surgery to remove the impacted poop...which we want to avoid if at all possible. Apparently Manx kitties are prone to intestinal blockage. Poo on that. Hell, I'm just glad to get some good news for a change.
After all, don't you know It's A Wonderful Life?

da Roonster...

I call Rooney so many things: Roonster, Rooney-spitoony, Roonster-padoonster, etc. He looked a little peaked last night when I brought him upstairs and put him on the bed with us, but this morning he was crawling under the covers with me, licking my fingers and looking fairly spry.

He sat on the toilet seat while I took a shower and when I got out he began his usual loud-mouth meowing and pawing at me to pick him up--ah, that's the old Rooney I know and love--demanding! Once I'd given him a hug and some good scratches he was satisfied and sat at the top of the stairs before beginning his meowing again for breakfast. He is a very vocal cat! He ate a small breakfast and seemed to feel a little better. I didn't see any evidence of funky poo in the litter box this morning either, so I hope the frequent small meals are helping prevent the diarrhea and vomiting. I hope to hear some news on the bloodwork today and will update when I do. Thanks again for all your kind comments. I can't believe how much they have helped. Not everyone understands the worry animal-lovers experience over their beloved pets and your care and concern has been a gift. Let's keep our paws crossed for some good news. Sending thanks and peace to you all... Well, I just talked to my vet and Rooney's bloodwork looks normal somehow (Yay!). We're going to try and replace some of the "good" bacteria in his stomach with little bits of plain yogurt and put him on a prescription bland soft food. Then we'll try some steroids next week if he's not much improved. If that doesn't help we may still have to look at exploratory surgery. So, at least I didn't get BAD news. Whew! It could even be that he just has a bizarre intestinal problem that can be treated. One step at a time. Meow!

Dear Karma, cut me some slack...

Now my little dearest clown-kitty, Rooney, has gotten ill. I thought he was depressed over Baxter's death, but he's been having terrible diarrhea and has continued to lose weight even though we've been working on fattening him up. He's been sitting crouched in front of the heater vent. So, I took him to the vet on Saturday and they did a ton of bloodwork (due back tomorrow) and took an X-ray.

Usually, the vet will start out with one of those, "Well overall it looks pretty good..." but when she brought in the X-ray she began with a list of abnormalities and "this is not supposed be there; I'm not sure what these spots are...this is not a normal picture at all..." My heart sank. I felt sick. His intestines are pushed back into the end of his abdominal cavity and although the X-ray didn't show a mass, the vet said there might be one because it looks as though many organs are being pushed around by "something." His temperature was also abnormally low. No. No. No. Until the bloodwork comes back she told me to feed him a special prescription diet mixed with pancreatic enzyme medicine to help him absorb some nutrients. So I did. And he got sicker. He just huddled on his Purr Pad and his little face was fiery hot. And then he had the most violent vomiting episode I've ever seen in man or animal. I was considering taking him to the local animal after-hours ER with absolutely no money to pay for it (Baxter's hospital and cremation bills have completely wiped us out.) We thought we would try to hydrate him a little first, so we went out and got some Pedialyte and fed him tiny, tiny morsels of his favorite food without the enzymes. Every hour we gave him a couple dropperfuls of Pedialyte and a tiny bit of food. We got up throughout the night to continue the routine and he progressively perked up and even crawled under the covers with us for a while, which is something he likes to do. This morning he was hungry and meowing which was a very good sign. I hope the bloodwork tells us something and that it can be treated. The next step is probably a fasting X-ray and possibly exploratory surgery (which I hope is not necessary). My fear is cancer, but my hope is a thyroid problem that can be medicated. I'm going to check on him at lunch and give him another small snack/drink. Needless to say, we are just sick with this new development. Here's hoping for Christmas Miracles.

home...

	Home is a different place without Baxter. He was our "special" cat and was always tooling around announcing himself with his muffled half-meows "mmmmrrrrrphhhh." The other cats are acting strangely with Rooney being downright depressed. He refuses to play which is unheard of.
Sleeping is especially hard because he was always laying on your head all night, doing his best to steal all the real estate he could on your pillow. If you took too long to turn over, you'd find him curled up already in the spot where your head had been. He was sneaky like that.
	We tried to convince him that he needed some Christmas spirit the first few years he was with us, but he wasn't terribly interested in it. He was very overweight when we adopted him and we should have worked harder to get the extra weight off when he was younger. He was a big cat, even lean, and we called him "Biggie" or "Big Boy."
Of course, as you can tell, the antlers were his favorite. The pet burial services company called and left us a message yesterday saying "the process is complete and I could come pick up Baxter's ashes anytime." I'd rather pick up my sweet Big Boy.
Thank you to everyone for your kind comments and expressions of sympathy...they make a big difference. Peace.

Goodbye Good Friend...

Baxter (cir.1991-Dec. 10, 2004)

When I brought Baxter home Thursday night he seemed much better, just exhausted. During the middle of the night his breathing became labored and shallow, so the next day I took him to the nearby university vet school clinic as an emergency. They did more ultrasounds and x-rays and said they would call me in the afternoon with some news. After lunch the phone rang at my office and they said he'd taken a turn for the worse and apparently had thrown a clot. I drove over to the hospital as quickly as I could and they explained he had severe heart and thyroid disease and his kidneys were beginning to shut down. He was barely breathing and his prognosis was dismal, so I had to make the decision to let him go. I gently pet his head and said goodbye while they administered the meds through his IV. I'll write more about Baxter later when it doesn't hurt so bad. He was really a unique cat and we feel fortunate that we found one another. I just wish we could have kept him a little longer. Goodbye, my friend, you had wings long before you made it to heaven.

American Opinion

"State and nationwide polls have shown that the vast majority of Americans are strongly opposed to horse slaughter:
In 1995 - A national call-in TV poll resulted in 93% of callers agree that 'the killing of horses for meat be banned.'
In 1997 - A state-wide poll taken in California revealed that 88% of those questioned were opposed to horse slaughter.
In 1999 - A poll conducted in New York State yielded the following results:

91% considered horses companions, recreational or sporting animals -

72% would never eat horse meat -

73% believed that the manner that horses are slaughtered is cruel and inhumane -

81% personally opposed the practice of horse slaughter."

So, excuse me. Suddenly it's okay to bastardize our own cultural standards?
From PBS.

Baxter, my kitty who collapsed this morning, is doing better, but we're not sure what happened. We're still waiting on some more bloodwork to come back. Today's vet bill? $460. My husband is getting a pack of Cheese Nips for Christmas. I'm just glad Baxter is alive. Even the vet said he thought he had a goner on his hands this morning when I first brought him in.

WAY TO GO GEORGE W. DUMBASS...

Of course W., the Idiot, signed away more than 30 years horse protection (which was unanimously approved by Congress at the time). Now wild horses are subject to slaughter for foreign palates--since we find it horrifying to eat it ourselves. Only horses over 10 can be shipped off, but horses aren't dogs. Horses live 30-35 years.

Oh, by the way, Congress unanimously voted for Dec. 13 to become National Day of the Horse...on your plate that is. Most of the overgrazing they claim to be done by the horses was actually shown to be done by poorly managed cattle herds.

Let's just go ahead and sell shelter dogs to Vietnamese restaurants. Or, better yet, lets fry up another historic symbol, the American Bald Eagle.

I'm already out of sorts anyway because one of my cats collapsed this morning and I had to rush him to the animal hospital. The vet couldn't find a pulse on him when I first got there. They've had him in an oxygen tent for several hours. I don't know what's wrong yet, but they've done x-rays and taken blood and urine for testing.

Deep breathing. Deep breathing.

Sale of Wild Horses to Slaughter Legalized

Bill add-on strips wild horses of protection from slaughter | And a letter to the editor in response

PLEASE EXPRESS YOUR OUTRAGE...

Please take a moment to remind Congress that Americans do NOT eat horsemeat and condemn the practice of horse slaughter!

...from the Society for Animal Protective Legislation...
"Currently, three foreign-owned slaughterhouses in the United States are killing horses for human consumption. They are Beltex Corporation in Ft. Worth, Texas and Dallas Crown in Kaufman, Texas and Cavel International in DeKalb, IL. According to the US Department of Agriculture, 50,564 horses were slaughtered in 2003...thousands more are transported under deplorable conditions across our borders into Canada and Mexico to be slaughtered...Once at the slaughterhouse, the suffering and abuse continue unabated...workers, using long, thick fiberglass rods, poke and beat the horses' faces, necks, backs, and legs as they are shoved through the facility into the kill box. Due to extreme overcrowding, abuse, deafening sounds, and the smell of blood, the horses exhibit fear typical of "flight" behavior – pacing in prance-like movements with their ears pinned back against their heads and eyes wide open. While Federal law requires that horses be rendered unconscious prior to having their throats slit, recent documentation shows that repeated blows with captive bolt pistols are often necessary, causing excruciating suffering. Horses writhe in the holding stall (known as the "kill box"), legs buckling under their weight after each traumatic, misguided and ineffective blows to their heads. Death is not swift for these terrified and noble animals."

Just take a moment by clicking one of these links:

American Human Society

ASPCA

Doris Day Animal League

National Horse Protection Coalition

Wanna see sumpin?

If you swoon over beautiful color combinations, you should see Carol Weymar's (a.k.a. The Silkworker) hand-painted silk top. I swear I can feel my pupils dilate when I look at her selections. She also has a nice page on how to spin silk, which I found very helpful.

Other than that I'd like to point out to the entire world that I have a zit on my forehead the size of a pomegranate. I can feel it pulsing. There are little men working in there, shoveling coal into its fiery epicenter, making my skin itchy, red and hot. This morning I was imagining ants outfitted in rappelling equipment climbing to its volcanic peak and holding a religious ceremony there.

I haven't had a zit like this on my face since the 80's. I can only surmize that I've entered perimenopause, the second-coming of puberty. I think I'll get a hysterectomy for my birthday.

I am ever-so-thankful I recently got a hairstyle with bangs. And I am thankful the semester is over. I took my cognitive behavioral final exam yesterday and it was a breeze (knock on wood.)

Pearl Harbor...

Excellent coverage here as we remember...National Geographic's Remember Pearl Harbor. Thanks to Shards for the link.

WHY?

A short lesson on slaughterhouse practice.* Why and how does this occur? I'm not a fan of PETA but occasionally they do some investigation that speaks for itself. No dramatics needed. Thanks to VegBlog for the link.
*beware of graphic content

Regardless of whether or not you are a vegetarian, there are federal laws that demand animals not suffer, but be rendered "insensible to pain" before they are killed. How well do you think these laws are enforced? Poultry isn't covered by the laws at all. To discourage injuries from pecking in cramped quarters, their beaks are sliced off with a hot knife tool. And yes, beaks are packed with nerves. Eaten or not eaten, animals should not endure torture for our mere convenience. More here...

just plain scary...

...okay so I panicked...
So I deleted the entry and visited Remo's Homepage instead. I love reading about all the naughty things he can do...

fresh from the mad hattery...

Bloggie-friend Laura requested a hat from me a while ago and here's the almost finished result. I need to do some work on the brim and insert the hat band, but it looks like it will have a new home very soon a top Laura's noggin'.

And takin' it from the top.

All handmade and hand-felted of course of Norwegian and Merino wool and hand-dyed silk. Hand-blocked and a whole lotta fun! I hope she likes it. I get so excited to get a hat out to someone.

And I have another custom order to get busy on ASAP as well! Fun for me!!! Woot!

I commented on the entry below thanking you all for such wonderful comments, but I want to repeat that your support warmed my little pea-pickin' heart. Ralphie thanks you, too. He now shows up and expects his sunflower seeds each evening. It's hard being such a sucker...

emerging from the muckety-muck...

Dear Darling Readers,
My life has changed in a blink of an eye. A miracle has been performed. A door has been opened. I think I even see a red carpet rolled out for me. Forty is around the corner and I'm looking forward to it. Droopy boobs be damned.

There's been much ado about my health over the last three years including several surgeries, medications and treatments. From uterine fibroids to endometriosis to gallbladder removal to tachycardia and high blood pressure. Oh, and I can't leave out the misdiagosis of Hepatitis B...that's another story.

Whether from having life-long problems with depression or the life-long problem of the tachycardia, I have always and forever been battling serious fatigue. I have never had enough energy to get through the day--ever. I do things anyway, but it is a constant battle. Then, about a 1 1/2 weeks ago a corrective measure was made in some medication and I, for the first time IN MY LIFE, do not feel like I'm dragging corpse around.

I FEEL NORMAL AND AWAKE (whatever that might be).

I don't have to say "no" to social events anymore because I just don't have the energy.

My heart doesn't sink when I see a mess in the house. Gosh-darn-it, I just walk over there and take care of it.

I am not afraid of committing to projects I have been wanting to do.

I feel like talking to people more.

I feel like seeing my friends.

I don't crash when I get home from work.

I dust when it's not "cleaning day."

I don't have to take naps throughout the weekend just to feel rested.

I don't feel left out because I don't have enough energy to enjoy myself.

The past week has been a mixture of shouting from the rooftops and crying in the depths of hell as I've made these adjustments and dealt with a myriad of personal challenges at home. Being suddenly COMPLETELY different was a tremendous shock. I was fearful that it was too good to be true. And I was also extremely upset that I was seeing my life clearly for the first time. The tremendous weight was removed and I saw many important changes that needed to be made ASAP.

I will turn 40 next month and it's not going to be about sagging ass cheeks, droopy boobs, a flabby waist or developing pig-like jowls. Wah-fucking-wah.

It's going to be about freedom from chronic fatigue--for the first time in my life.

--->PLEASE TAKE A MOMENT TO SEND A NOTE TO CONGRESS TO STOP THE SLAUGHTER OF THOUSANDS OF MUSTANGS...SEE POST BELOW.<---

NOT THE ANSWER...

We find it so appalling that the meat is only sold overseas. Appalling, sickening, barbaric. Wild Horses...to be Slaughtered

Read more about it... TAKE ACTION BY DEC. 6! DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT...PLEASE! CLICK HERE, TOO.

WRITE TO CONGRESS

...feeling a little more energetic than usual?

Rocket Fuel Chemical Found in Organic Milk

ponder fodder...

I saw this quote at the end of an email today. I don't know much about the fellow who wrote it, but this little bit was worth thinking about.

"I look upon what is whole in you, not what seems to be lacking, and when
you learn to do the same, then the lack will disappear on its own. No
effort is required to dispel an illusion, but it takes great effort
indeed to deny what is and has always been true. This is why you are so
tired, because you have used the power of creation to deny the power of
creation."
-James Twyman

I have named the fireplace squirrel "Ralphie." He hangs his head down from the hole in the flue like a periscope to keep a watch for fresh sunflower seeds. I need to take a picture of the cats...they sit in front of the fireplace like they are watching television.

Dreary, chilly, foggy and rainy today.

see you after the holiday...

millan.net

you just can't make this stuff up...

If you read the previous post, you are aware of our new pet friend...uh, visitor.

He really does peek through the old worn-out flue. As soon as I shone the flashlight in the fireplace, his head poked right out and I attempted to take a picture through the glass. Not top quality, but this critter has been caught in the act. Click on the photo for a big view.

Darling Klaralund does NOT want to be upstaged. She is finished. She doesn't really make me look quite so skinny, but she's lovely nevertheless.

knock, knock...

...who's there?
Flying squirrels.
Flying squirrels who?
Flying squirrels visiting through your fireplace.

Again.

Yes, we have more visitors...or maybe just one more. He peeks his head through the flue when we shine the flashlight in the fireplace.

Who's that? he says.
Curious humans, we say.
*blink, blink*

Curious humans invite total infestation by placing water and gerbil food in the fireplace.

What's that? he says.
Food and water, we say.

As soon as the food was placed in the fireplace, his velvety nose popped through the hole wiggling and twitching.

A buffet? he says. For me? he wonders.
Yes, for you, just in case you need it.

He promptly followed his nose to the feeding trough and began eating to his heart's content. You could clearly hear the crunching and munching through the closed glass doors.

Cool! How cute! the Curious Humans thought.
Mmmm! Delicious the squirrel thought.

He dragged the little plastic lid toward him, sat among the tasty morsels and commenced to more serious munching.The sunflower seeds were his favorite and disappeared first.

We are such suckers, we thought.
They are such suckers, he thought.

***********

I have about 10 more inches of seaming to do on Klaralund and I'm finished. I plan to wear it tomorrow because that's what you do when you finish something--you wear it immediately...pronto...post haste...with self-aggrandizing glee.

There's so much to say, but only so much room. I'll post of pic of Klara when she is fit to be fitted and such.

I am SO ready for a day off.

hope.

I hope for this to become more than a piece of paper. It's been so disturbing to go about my daily business while lives were being snuffed out by the millions. I still wonder if the general public was quite so complacent during the Holocaust or if it was different then; if people were more involved in bringing aid to those who suffered. I don't know.

A spitwad. A nerd. And a little bit of lightning...

Well, I've not been my usual obsessive bloggy self lately. I'm not sure why. I have been having some serious energy problems lately...there's seems to be a blackout in the frontal and neocortex areas. All power lines have been shut down and limbic generators have been chugging me through the countryside. Usually this is caused by a special kind of lightning from hormonal clouds, known by its scientific name "Zitbloatskrieg." If you feel the hair in your DNA prickle up you'd better hit the ground and don the tin foil cap post haste.

Anyway, we saw "The Incredibles" with the nieces over the weekend. It was a great movie. Even if you don't have short people to go with, go see it. It's really clever and amazing. Knitters will appreciate the faithful reproduction of stockinette stitch in sweaters thanks to the miracles of computer generated graphics. (How nerdy is it that I noticed such a thing? I deserve a spitwad between the eyes.)

I am hoping to finish out two custom hats this week. I wanted to have them done by now, but my energy/irritation levels have been extremely low and extremely high respectively. What to do? Knit and chill. Wait for systems to return to normal.

So, I have finished all of the pieces of Klaralund. No shit. I kid you not. I'm not lying. By the turtlehead invested in me I hereby say she is ready to block and seam. Can she do it? Can she finish a knitted piece? You'll have to tune in later to find out.

I've casted on for Lara, but only four inches of lovely rust ribbing can attest to my activity. I'm using Jo Sharp Silk Road Aran instead of Alpaca Silk. It was cheaper--thank God for Elann during lean days.

told ya...

Ah, she comes through, late like Amelie, but with pictures like she said...
Klaralund sleeves in #213...obviously I was not trying to match the striping. I couldn't care less about that, so c'est la vie on that one.

Some purple wool and mohair roving I've been spinning up. The score was made at SAFF of course. I bought some other roving in a brown/olive color combo as well.

And something luscious, Kid Hollow hand-dyed mohair (almost 1000 yards!). Mmm, mmm, MMM! I have special plans for this baby and I ain't tellin'. I dread winding it up though!

I did some "pre-felt" pieces tonight to be felted into other pieces of felt later, but those are hardly exciting to show. So, that's all for today folks.

potholes...

Feelin' kinda low this week. Not because of the squirrel, although that was a sad moment, but a variety of other things. All will be fine, but I despise "dips" in the road of life. Sometimes there are too many potholes to fix at once.

Thanks for all the sweet messages about the flying squirrel. One person commented about rabies, but the Southern Flying Squirrel is wonderfully notorious for being practically disease and parasite-free. They are really beautiful little creatures and have been kept as "pocket pets" for hundreds of years. You could never tame an adult, but if you bond with a baby then you'd be happily stuck with a friendly squirrel for about 10-15 years!

I am halfway through the last sleeve of Klaralund, but I dread blocking it because I really don't have a good place to block. No carpet, dog and cat fur everywhere, not enough table space, etc. I'm sure I'll figure out a way to solve it. I am (really) going to post some pics tonight.

I have to work some this weekend, but man am I glad it's Friday!

need alternate ending...

I haven't posted about the flying squirrel, because I just couldn't. The first thing I did was go to the fireplace after work and I saw the apple hadn't even been nibbled. Just beyond the apple, I saw a little tail. I touched it and nothing happened. I let out an "Oh, no!" and ran to get a little cotton washcloth. I pulled the poor little thing out by the tail and it seemed dead. Since it was still warm and pliable, I decided to massage its chest and blow in its nose (from a distance). After a couple of minutes I saw a little twitch. It was still alive.

Meanwhile, my husband walked in and immediately asked how the squirrel was. My answer was dismal. I kept giving it little chest massages and DH gave it a little water with a dropper every few minutes. She got more and more agitated, started to breathe regularly and squirmed, so we were hopeful she (I'm assuming it was a female from the rows of nipples on the underbelly) was just dehydrated. We took turns cradling the little thing in our warm hands. Finally she opened her eyes and make a squeak. More squeaks. We were happy. But after a few minutes the squeaks seemed more like cries and she let out a couple of tremendous coughs, sticking out her little pink velvet tongue like a child would. A couple of loud cries followed. We thought she might be frightened by us now that she had her eyes open, so we put her in a dark vented box lined with cotton washcloths. Neither one of us could stand it for more than five minutes, so we lifted the lid to see how she was doing and she had died. Apparently the coughs and cries were her last moments. I rubbed her chest again for a while, but she was really gone this time. I gently closed her eyes.

It took me two days to muster up the courage to write this stupid entry. Sucks to be me.

critter magnet...

Last night I was on the couch thumbing through a knitting magazine while my husband was lamenting about his fantasy football loss to a friend on the phone and out of the corner of my eye I saw something move in the fireplace. I put down my magazine and went to look behind the glass doors along with the cats who had seen the same movement.

Another Southern Flying Squirrel. We know we have families of them in the attic, but since they are practically disease-free critters, we don't see any reason to oust them from their warm little suburbs. This little guy must have fallen down the chimney and crawled through the flue. We don't burn our fireplace because of structural damage in our chimney--thank goodness for him (We have ventless gas logs, but they stink!).

The cats were going nuts, trying to paw right through the glass, so we put the kitties away in other rooms while we opened the doors to attempt capturing the little fellow. Then, poof! he was gone. He jumped straight up through a little hole in the flue. We started to wonder if he was really trapped or just playing, but a few minutes later, plop! he parachuted back down onto the gas logs, just standing there looking at me.

I could hear the kitties tapping on the glass from time to time throughout the night, fascinated by the little snack on the other side.

We decided to see if he was still around today to make a better judgement call on his state of freedom. DH stopped by and saw that he was still there--asleep in the fake ashes, so DH cut up a little apple for him. He was so sound asleep (they are noctural animals) that, not only did he not notice the door was being opened, but DH actually nudged him with the apple and all he did was turn over and curl right back up. Talk about a heavy sleeper! We don't want to put him out during the day when he's so groggy, so we'll attempt to help him escape to freedom tonight. I'd like to take a picture of him but I don't know if that will happen, plus it would probably blind his little noctural eyes. The picture linked in the second paragraph is from the big escapee incident from the storage room--the lights were on then so I snapped a pic. Whee! Boy can they get around in a hurry! It was like a circus. Tickets are on sale for tonight!

persimmon power-pucker

For the truly anal-retentive, a linguistic analysis of the Kerry-Bush debates. It's kind of interesting. Not that I am anal--I poo far too often to earn such a moniker.

more fiber, please

No, I'm not going to pontificate on scat, feces, poo--as it were. I'm looking forward to this weekend so I can do some felting. I have a pulled muscle in my back and a sinus infection that's going to give me grief, but I say we'll work it out--literally.

The front and back of Klaralund is done and I've started on a sleeve. I was going to do the sleeves at the same time, but I didn't have a circular in the same size and I wasn't in the mood to squish that many stitches on my trusty bamboos. I really like Silk Garden, although some of the skeins have giant silk zits. That add something sometimes and then other times, it's just too zitty and I have to poke...it's always something. I've run into at least four knots so far. I do NOT take kindly to knots. I just don't.

I got a ton of hair chopped off last night. I have bangs for the first time in about 10 years. I kind of look like a deranged mushroom...but I do like mushrooms. Have a good Thursday...we're almost there!

stay the course...

...straight into the New Vietmam (even 81 year-old Walter Cronkite will tell you that and he covered the war); straight into more economic unrest; straight into cuts for social programming and money for research and sound environmental practice. I just hope it can all be fixed when he leaves.

That's all I'm going to say.

the joy of poo...

I can't believe I have so many friends in the "must poo because I'm in my favorite store" category. Okay, some of you poo because you're on the phone, but a lot of you are poo-enhanced shoppers. Whodathunkit? Not me. No wonder it smells so bad in there. If you are a real poo-enhanced shopper, however, you know to perform procedure 3B (that would be the trusty Courtesy Flush). I'm going to get a bumper sticker that says "I'm proud to poo in public." I suppose I've said enough here.

I just can't get into the bloggy thing over the past couple of weeks. Don't know why. I've finished the back of Klaralund and have begun the front. I have custom hat orders to work on this weekend. Woo-hoo, felting fun.

Gotta run. No pun intended! ;-P

flurble-goink

That's right, the title means nothing. Move along, there's nothing to see here.

I had EVERY intention of taking photos last night, but hubby and I wound up at the bookstore and I didn't get around to it. We always laugh when I go to the bookstore because it makes me go to the bathroom. Bookstores apparently change my body chemistry and I have to go poo within 15 minutes of arriving. Seriously. Creative supply stores do the same thing to me. Yes, I'm aware you didn't need to know that mental stimuli causes craptacular-itis in me, but I think it's so odd I had to share. Given the frequency of my visits to said stimulating places, I am one lucky unconstipated woman.

Speaking of nastiness, my lovely little nieces are coming over this Saturday to make Halloween yuckies like "boogers on a stick" and "puke stew." It should be fun. We don't have them over often enough.

I'm going to cast on for Klaralund Friday night. Hubby is going to a local football game so I'm footloose and fiber-infested for the entire evening. I also have some felting projects to get going...

Which reminds me, I just signed up for probably the most exciting workshop I'll take in 2005--advanced felt hatmaking with Beth Beede. She is the teacher of the person who taught me and she travels internationally sharing her techniques. I am seriously excited about it. If you are a felter, check out the class. It's being held at the John C. Campbell Folk School in North Carolina. I've been there before and really loved it.

Well, I've flurble-goinked enough for today...as my dad says, "See you in the funny papers."

testing, testing...is this thing on?

Well, that stupid mid-term was a cinch. I thought it was going to be horrible and, since I fully embraced said assumption, I took off Monday to memorize everything we had been told, shown and assigned. I was kind of pissed off it wasn't harder. How whacked is that? Anyway, I was glad I was able to do well.

After the exam was over I headed straight to Bask1n R0bbins to get a scoop of Nutty Coconut. Mmmmmmmmm, rewards! Then I decided I needed more rewarding and I got out some of the roving I scored at SAFF and started spinning like a mad woman. Then I decided that was not enough, so I headed to the store and bought limes and a six-pack of one of my favorite beers, Tecate. Mmmmmmm, beer. After that, I decided that was enough rewarding and drank, spun, plied and vegged out like a moron. Hey, it was the perfect day!

I don't know why I'm so photographically impaired recently. I will try to force myself to take pictures of the SAFF haul and the four capelets/ponchos I've knitted up. Egads, I'm a lazy one on the blogging recently.

Oh, and my hats are going to be in a nearby fashion show, which I think is really cool. More about that as it draws near.

Happy Wednesday...I think.

schwa-ness

I just haven't felt like bloggin' it lately. Perhaps I deserve to be blog-flogged and hog-tied with a schwa. Or maybe it's because I'm about 2 1/2 months away from 40 and I can't decide what to do with my hair--again. Or maybe it's because my husband's boss is taking the "guys" to Zurich and Paris four days after I turn 40. Or maybe it's because all that health junk temporarily took the wind out of my sails...or the sails off my boat. Or maybe its because I can't stop knitting up Paris Loops or poncholettes make of Kureyon. Or maybe it's because I can't wait for my Silk Garden to get here so I can make Klaralund. Or Lara with the Silk Road Aran I scored. Or maybe its because I went a little overboard in rewarding myself for the art fair with a "little" yarn. Or maybe it's because I can't get the green sweater in the new Queensland Collection off my mind and how I might dye some natural yarn and mohair I have to mimick said sweater. Or maybe I should stop typing out freakin' sentence fragments before I force said schwa down my throat and choke to death (I love to say schwa...schwa! schwa! schwa! You can't stop me!). Then again maybe I'm just tired.

This Saturday, I'm going to SAFF. I'm going to do some serious scoring of roving there. I feel like skipping through the building when I get there. Wool! Mohair! Angora bunnies! Alpacas! Llamas! Cashmere goats! Angora goats! All kinds of sheep! All for me! me! me! I'll also get to meet my wooly commrades in the Southeastern Felters Guild in the afternoon. We're a new guild, so we're trying to figure out what the hell we want to do with our time. I'll also be dropping off some hats to a weaver who is going to use them in a fashion show in November.

Tonight is studying for next week's cognitive behavioral therapy mid-term. It's over the entire freakin' textbook, plus several suicide assessment topics. Bah. Hopefully I can multi-task and knit while studying--that could be dangerous for this little pea brain...

Gotta go, I'm about to schwa all over myself...

it's just karma...

It's just fate that I would park for my meeting this morning and have a pept0-bism0l colored leopard car just two spaces away. I don't even know what to say, other than the gods of oddity have been good to me today. Click the pic for a really big scary version in a new window.

I AM AWAKE...

I weaned myself off the beta-blocker over the weekend and I'm finally awake again. I didn't realize how much of a fog I was in until I started to snap out of it. I had to take a half-dose for three days before I could quit because this beta blocker can cause heart spasms or heart attack if stopped cold turkey. I thought that was scary. I thought it was even more scary that my doc didn't tell me that. I found out myself (I research everything--nerd!) and asked him how he wanted me to taper off.

Whatever.

More importantly, I knitted up Glampyre's Paris Loop over the weekend and I love it! I'm making another one in some girly yarn. Mine has a wider opening at the top. I could promise pictures, but I probably will get lazy and not post them, so I'll say I'll try to post pics if I think about it. A vague half-promise. Or half of a vague promise. Either way, it's not looking good for you.

Yes, I am awful.

And awake.

And little bit rotten.

slower, slower, slowest...

Just like the witchy lady says to Jason Robards in "Something Wicked This Way Comes"...

I just don't think I'm going to be able to stay on this beta blocker. I've become a lump of barely formed lukewarm poo. The only thing I think about all day is getting home so I can take a nap. The only thing I think about when I stand up is when I'm going to get to sit down. The only thing I think about when I sit down is when I'm going to lie down. I have no idea how I'm going to get my work done and study for a mid-term.

I said I'd give it a full week...maybe 10 days...but no more. Beta-sucka-my-big-fat-ass-blocker. I feel like a wilted piece of lettuce...not even nice lettuce like arugula, but plain old iceberg lettuce with week-old rabbit slobber on it. Wilted, man, wilted.

halloween treats...

For you guys who have kids, you're going to love this RECIPE LIST. How about some Toasted Tongues or Chuckie's Upchuck? Or some wonderful Noseblow Pizza? Or Diaper Dump Porridge? Mmmmm.

oh yeah? beta this!

Well, I said I was going to avoid beta-blockers for the tachycardia, which was officially diagnosed as "inappropriate sinus tachycardia"--which is shorthand for "we don't know why your heart acts like it's on crack"--so Well-Trusted-Doctor talked me into a very selective beta blocker called Toprol. It seems to work, but damn, I can hardly keep my eyes open...I am SO sleepy and tired. I'm hoping these side effects will subside.

So much for showing you my lovely Kureyon poncho. A friend of mine bought it right off my back for a good sum. I did the smart thing and bought six more balls of Kureyon, so I can make another. I loved that poncho! Money is evil!

Man, I wish I didn't have two more chapters of textbook reading to do tonight. Yaa-a-a-a-wn...I just want to cat nap. Meeeeeooooowwww. Snoozzzzzzzzze.

Who invented Monday? I want to find them and strangle them post haste. Or whatever...maybe I'll stare at them and think mean things...or lay down and think about doing it.

zzz-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z

insert title here...

Here's some tech support for ya...

I'm okay, just kinda takin' it easy away from the blogworld. I need some recharging...

dot dot dot...

The show was a tad bit puny on the money side, but definitely worth going to. I think sales in general for everyone was mediocre. The caliber of artists was excellent, which always makes me feel good as a newcomer to be included in such good company. I am zapped though. I'm just devoid of energy right now, so I'll have to catch up on the blogosphere later this week. My goal for my next show is to be able to MAKE CHANGE for my customers. It's just like a math test...I go completely blank and appear to be legally retarded. So embarrassing. Even the calculator couldn't save me from my display of stupidity. More later.