cute-clearance...

You should have to obtain special clearance to have a puppy this cute. This little darling joined the home of a couple we are friends with. Good grief! Cutie-overload!

click the pics for larger versions (if you can stand it)

brrr...

Starting your day with an ice-cold shower is downright cruel. I'll be glad when we get our new hot water heater installed tomorrow. I have to soap up out of the shower stream and then grit my teeth while I wash off as quickly as possible. I do some mighty powerful yodeling during those few seconds. I suppose it could be winter--that would be quite a bit worse.

I put an old painting up on Ebay starting at $4, but it doesn't do much for me. How about that for salesmanship? Har.

Been kinda depressed this week. I think I'm just tired.

Hey Mamaw...

Last day for bids on "Hey Mamaw"...In other news, we have NO HOT WATER. None. Nada. Our hot water heater has been acting up and we're having one installed on Thursday morning, but two more ice cold showers stand between us and the installation. Brrrr. I was VERY awake this morning!

I made some blackberry cobbler last night from the blackberry patch at my father's house. The last few days have been kind of hard thinking about him...I feel his presence slipping away from me and it makes me feel sick inside. Over the next few weekends we are going to start emptying his house. I dread that more than you can imagine. Daddy's apple orchard is loaded this year. He was always disappointed in the yield of the trees and now that he's gone, the branches are nearly breaking with fruit. He grafted several dwarf varieties himself which always impressed me. There's also a dwarf pear tree in the yard. You've never seen such cute little pears. If the fruit doesn't get wormy as it ripens, I suppose I'll be making some more cobblers and pies...maybe I'll even learn to can something. Who knows.

and then there was Nana...

This morning I was disheartened as I drove to work. I saw five beagle puppies wandering alongside the road...in and out of the woods...in and out of the road. They looked like they were about 6 months old. Could I stop and herd them into the car? Would I only go a mile down the road to find more roaming dogs?

About three miles later I saw a big black lump in the road. "Please be a tire. Please be a tire." But it wasn't. It was a big black lab hit by car not long before I had come along. I can't stand it when people just let their dogs fend for themselves in traffic. This "cut-through" road is kind of a rural atmosphere...along with rural attitudes. I see dogs and cats roaming all the time. I see them both, along with raccoons and opossums squashed on the roadside. It makes me so angry--at pet "owners" and at careless drivers.

Then I thought of Nana, the pup we transported from Memphis to Richmond, Virginia. We were part of an 8-person relay to get his precious little girl to her new owner in Richmond. I wanted to keep her! She was horribly shy, so the only pics I got were with my little camera phone. I sat in the back with her and she cuddled up on the floor instead of the seat. She had recently had puppies and I think she was a little sad. But, Nana went to a wonderful loving home with another dog to play with. I had to think of Nana to cancel out all the sadness. Lucky, lucky Nana. ***Big thanks to Leigh-Anne for hooking me up with the transport!***

And a sneak peak at at 12 x 12 inch painting I'm working on "Teddy's Last Dip"...it makes me laugh so hard. It will be up later in the week.

your comments

Oh! Haloscan has been very naughty and I have missed tons of your comments...I just now read about eight that I hadn't seen before. Sorry I missed so many. For some reason only a few of my comments are going through to email and none of them are getting counted on the post. Gah! I missed so many nice things. I love you all *sob* *sob* *blows nose* *snorts*

Anyway. Really I hate that I didn't get a chance to respond to some of the just sweetest comments.

*sob* *sob* There I go again.

I'm tying fast...I am SO behind. But I just want to tell you one thing. I am working on a 12 x 12 painting that makes me laugh out loud. It is so funny to me. I'll show as soon as it's showable. I'm almost done with my little 6x6 Noogies Goes to the Big Top...

And tomorrow is doggie transport day! Pictures will follow! Have a great weekend y'all. Back to the grind for now! :-)

and...

"Hey Mamaw" is up on Ebay. Sugar's whiskers are painted with a real cat whisker. What fun! I found a whisker in the floor (naturally shed of course) and taped it to a old crappy brush. It was great for getting fine little whiskers! The complete title is "Hey Mamaw, open up. It's just me and Sugar"--so I'm a little verbose--sue me. I'm still a little floored that people are buying these little things for some juicy bucks. I'm afraid it's a joke or something. Am I weird? (Don't answer that.)

Saturday excitement! We're (tentatively) going to be part of a puppy transport relay on Saturday! This little gal is going to a person in Virginia and we're going to be one of four "legs" of this puppy's journey to freedom. She comes from a "high kill" shelter, so she's one lucky puppy! We're awaiting specific instructions. It should be fun. I've always wanted to be part of one of these transport relays. It only takes 2 or 3 hours of your time if you're just one leg of the journey and a deserving animal is able to get to a new forever home instead of being euthanized. The new owner is spared a lengthy trip.

see?

I am making good on my promise of polka-dot toes...

It would be better if I didn't have short little stubs for toes, but surely you can forgive me. The funny thing is I have long fingers and short toes. That has to mean something.

little devils...

My little devil is up on Ebay...

Rooney seems really chipper since he escaped the university vet school clinic. He looks pretty awful with a shaved belly, back and right front leg, but he's been crawling under the covers, snuggling and begging for food like usual. I guess he had two days of IV fluids and enough aggravation!

Meanwhile, Pickles, our older pup, decided to get one of her nails stuck in the wire mesh of our patio glider. Rip. Off it came. All that's sticking out is the quick--like when you pull lobster out of the claw (not that I eat such things, mind you). Poor thing. Animals are so much tougher than we are. She's not even limping. But, you know she does need to get to the vet for some antibiotics. It's been a damn revolving door for a good seven months now. Whatever.

My toenails are brown with bright periwinkle polkadots. I know it's unfair to talk and not show, but I don't have my camera with me right now. You'll have to wait! I have a friend who showed up with a brown/pink combo she had done at a salon in Nashville and I just had to try it myself. I love it. Daddy would have shaken his head and snickered. It makes me smile when I think he would have laughed at something I've done.

P.S. THANKS FOR ALL THE E-HUGS FOR ROONEY...HE SAYS "MEEEEEOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!" Purr.

coming soon...

to an Ebay listing near you...a snippet below of my "little devil"...

I picked up Rooney and he was sooooo pitiful. His back was shaved with his little vertebrae poking out, a bandage on his right front leg--just as sad-looking as he could be. He's going to get lotsa lovin' this weekend. Poor thing. Makes me cry.

poor Rooney...

Rooney is in the ICU for the night because his temperature dropped dramatically during his myelogram. Thankfully, the lymph node aspiration did not show signs of lymphoma, which was my fear. It does show lots of inflammation though. Now I have to take him back home for a few days until he has one of his lameness episodes; then take him back to the hospital so he can be evaluated while he's got the wobblies. Then they want to take some spinal fluid to pin down the neurological problem. In the meantime, he has to have an endoscopic exam and bowel biopsy to pin down the chronic diarrhea. The vet thinks we have two problems; not one.

Yippee-fuckin'-yea. Poor thing. I just hate this. When is the rain going to let up? I can't even think straight anymore.

A black and white I took of Rooney several years ago...

London, Rooney and ceiling cracks...

LONDON...heavy, deep sigh...Not a good way to start the day. My heartfelt condolences go out to all those poor people.

Rooney spent the night at the University of Tennessee Veterinary Hospital and is undergoing a battery of neurological tests. I don't know what is going to happen. Apparently there were some abnormalities in the radiograph and they are going to follow up with an abdominal ultrasound, nerve conduction test and myelogram (by the way, my right kidney is now for sale on Ebay). Hopefully, he'll get to come home this afternoon, but I'm not betting on it. There was a mention of a possible spinal problem. Ugh.

Meanwhile there are two buckets in the dining room to catch:
a) pouring water
b) falling plaster

The crack in our ceiling has gotten exponentially worse, even though the new gutters and other repairs are scheduled and/or in the works (the gutters have to go up first)...but hey, not before a tropical depression mows through the area. Glad I bought a new mop the other day.

Add serious medical testing today going on for another family member. I can't even go into that.

Let's see, where did I put that silver lining?

Well, at least I have two more small paintings in the works that I really like---one is "Noogie Goes to the Big Top" and "Hey Mamaw, Open Up, It's Just Me and Sugar," which will be listed under the much less verbose title "Hey Mamaw." There's a third--a little devil--but I don't have it named yet.

a circle of string...

Actually it was a circle of yarn that I found on Daddy's grave yesterday. It was the yarn I wound around the hydrangea and herb bouquet I took to him on Father's Day.

I have a little whisk broom and some garden shears that I take with me with I go visit. I pluck and shear weeds and brush dirt from his headstone. I do the same with my grandparents' marker next to his.

I didn't notice my bouquet was gone at first, but once I did notice I thought it probably had been mowed over or had been blown away once it had become fragile and dry. But then, as I brushed dust and dirt from the back of Daddy's stone I noticed something. The yarn. It was laying on the grave; still coiled. Someone had taken the hydrangea blooms, slipped off the yarn and left it there.

Next time I will bundle some new stems in my bouquet--dried up, very thorny, rose stems. I would have been much happier if it had been inadvertently mowed over. There are plenty of other real flowers left on other graves that have remained untouched. But I suppose dried hydrangeas are worth stealing...

if you're an asshole.

Lydia's House of Kibble...

I put up Lydia's House of Kibble on Ebay. She's an 8 x 10 canvas panel.

let's do the polka...

I sold this framed 18 x 24 this week, too. Not to ebay, but directly through someone.

I'm kind of stunned people are buying these. I have been thoroughly chastised by several people for having such an attitude. Maybe it scares me or something. Whatever...at least three more are in the works and should be up this weekend.

don't you wish it weren't so...

Sigh.

embarrassed, once again...

Really, this post by Riverbend is worth reading... (note: you might have to scroll down if the page loads broken)

Elvis has left the desktop...

Ok, I'll share my little entertainment secret. I have Tiny Elvis on my computer at work. He entertains me on the hour, but I could set him to pop up more often. You can choose fat Elvis, kinda fat Elvis, or Elvis in his skinny hey-day. Anyway, it's hysterical. So, consider yourself bequeathed of something good...Oh yeah, it's free.

Link: Click on "software" to get to Tiny Elvis.

THANKS ALL YOU CRAZY NUTS WHO ARE BIDDING ON MY LITTLE FOLK PAINTINGS. I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ALL HAVE THAT MUCH DISPOSABLE INCOME ;-) (but I love you for it)...thank you! thank you! thank you!!!!!!

EBAY mo-fo...

Yo, there are still $10 paintings on Ebay (if you want to partake of such madness). Click the cute little Ebay icon-button-link-thingy to the left.

Not that I'm self-promoting or anything...

letters to famous people...

I decided to take time out of my busy, busy, busy, busy day to write to two very famous, very rich people. I hope it warms your heart that I am sharing them with you now.

Dear Oprah (click to read)

Dear Tom (click to read again, duh)

Have a great monday (notice the lowercase letter).

I saw a 100-pound roach in my house last night and nearly passed out.
I. DO. NOT. CO-EXIST. WITH. ROACHES.
Spraying will commence promptly on Wednesday.

dot, dot, dot...

Latest Google search words that led to my site: knitting + turd + medication

I think that might be a statement about my life in general.

But let us not be so negative.

It turns out that poor little Peanut had a puncture wound (a la Yuki) on his back right elbow/knee--whatever. It became abcessed, so they had to lance it (hoark). Anyway, on to daily antibiotics and cleansing with hydrogen peroxide to keep the wound open and draining. Peanut is not a fan of medical care. Nice.

As for Rooney, we've hit the wall with our generalist vet care and they're preparing a referral to the University of Tennessee Vet School where we can get him evaluated by some specialists. There's a possibility of myasthenia gravis (a very serious neurological disorder rare in cats). Real Nice.

Rooney did receive some subcutaneous fluids to rehydrate him and he's puny but feeling a little better. We will do everything we can for him. That's the personal contract when we bring critters home. If you don't wanna take care of 'em, don't get 'em. Even when puny he's the hit of the animal hospital and one vet tech scoops him up every chance she gets...she joked, "I'm taking him back [for fluids]...and right out the back door."

I hope we can do something for him.

Thanks to all you guys who have been bidding on my little paintings. :-)

there's more...

ON EBAY:

and




In other news: I'm just trying to not fall apart. Rooney lost function in his legs last night and, although better today, I'm taking him in for more subcutaneous fluids in about an hour. Peanut has also injured his hind leg and is squeezing in as well. Shit! You cats get it together! You're killin' your mama.

Crazy Cat Lady Strikes Again.

This little painting "Mealtime at Crazy Cat Lady's House" went up yesterday evening...

aftershocks...

I hope I can spend next year's Father's Day remembering the good things and not feeling like I'm going off the deep end...reading other people's posts about how great their dads are just about eviscerated me. This week has been low, low, low...

Click'n'bid...

First Ebay Listing (7 days)

AND NOW FOUR MORE...

Father's Day Sucked.

But I did the best I could. I thought I would throw up my heart all weekend. It was worse than getting through his birthday.

We went here and did this and managed to have some fun, despite the giant lump in my throat the entire time, despite the fact that I stuck my tongue out at the aquarium photographer (and not in a nice way), despite the fact that I set off an alarm in the art museum (not on purpose, just not thinking straight...). Despite my best efforts Sunday came and boiled me in oil. I felt sick. I felt tired. My bones hurt. I couldn't focus. I couldn't drink enough beer. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't like anyone and still don't today.

After we got home, I gathered from my own garden some hydrangea blossoms, lavender, chocolate mint and rosemary and tied them together in an informal bouquet and took them to Daddy's grave. Daddy was never big on store-bought things and I was quite sure he'd much rather have a bouquet planted with my own hands instead of the silly flowers dipped in food-coloring (who started that ridiculous trend, anyway?).

The little white country church where Daddy is buried with his parents was established in 1897 and overlooks a beautiful valley. Hawks usually circle above searching the fields for rodent-crunchies and there are some small farms with sheep, goats, horses and donkeys. It was a nice evening and fairly quiet except for an impatient rooster showing off his pipes and a big dog barking with some crazy redneck woman screaming at it to shut-up. I thought to myself, "I hope that dog bites you...hard." She was twice as irritating as the dog.

I noodled with the flowers and set them in front of the headstone and then worried that he couldn't enjoy them on that side, so I moved them to the other side. I set them down one way and then another; propped them up on the stone then decided to lay them flat on the ground. I crumpled some of the leaves to release the wonderful aroma of the herbs.

And then there was nothing to do. I paced around a little, wondering what to do, wanting to talk to the stone, but feeling weird and sick-hearted.

About 20 feet away, a grave had been dug and the vault lay haphazardly beside it waiting to be inserted. I walked up to it and looked at it, then stared down into the six-foot-deep grave. I was surprised at the exactness of the hole and wondered how they got the sides so perfectly straight. I wondered who would be laid to rest here in that hole.

I thought of that show I used to love--Six Feet Under--and how I never wanted to see it again. EVERYTHING is different now.

I toured other relatives in the cemetary, including cousins, aunts, uncles, great-grandparents. There were also little markers for several children who died before they even reached school age. One family had markers for three babies; one living just a day.

I wondered how many people were affected by all these loved ones buried around me. Some stones were heavily decorated; some were marked as if they had been transients...a tarnished metal placeholder with a number scrawled on it. A giant yucca plant grows over my great-grandfather's grave. You have to part the plant with both hands in order to find his stone. Between him and my grandmother is a mystery grave. My father was supposed to be buried there next to his mother, but they had to move him to the other side next to his father because there is an unknown grave there.

Eventually after pondering and walking in circles for about 30 minutes (or more) I finally got in my car to leave. I watched Daddy's grave the entire time I drove away--as I always do. Am I afraid that will be taken from me, too?

As I leave I always see his best friend's headstone on the way out of the cemetary--the one whose mother spent the entirety of his earnings he sent home from the Army in the 50's. He came home to nothing and had to borrow a cigarette because he didn't have the money to buy a pack. He re-enlisted and eventually jumped from a tall building window in Germany, staying in a hospital for months and barely surviving. But that's not my story to tell. There are always flowers on his grave as well, along with some small figurines.

I drive to the front of the church and wonder if it will always be there; taking care of Daddy's resting place. Then it's down the long driveway to the two-lane highway and I turn right. It's such a lonely feeling to make that turn, to leave him there. I want to stay there and lie down next to his grave but then I would find that, just as I couldn't get the flowers right, I wouldn't be able to position myself in a way that made things okay--because they're not okay.

I try to enjoy the scenery before I get back to the busy four-lane highway, mentally saying hello to a scraggly miniature horse who is still losing his long winter coat, two donkeys who graze in a distant field, a horse and goat who share a yard next to a trailer, another horse and large cow who graze side-by-side next to a large garden with several rows of corn and sometimes a fairly large flock of sheep with dark heads.

Then...then what?

so much for that...

My computer at home is on the fritz. After waiting 15 minutes for it to boot up, I threw my hands up and went to bed. I guess I will have to plan on auctioning next week. Man, it's always sumpin'.

See you next week, I'm partaking in distraction this weekend in the form of a music festival...

p.s. Sadie and Rooney both seem to be doing fine. We cut Sadie's Lysodren dosage in half and the subcutaneous fluids and antibiotics for Rooney perked him right up. My poor mother will be trying to give pills to two of our cats while we are gone. When I showed her how to do it, she looked at me like I had asked her to leap off a cliff. She replied, "Well, I'll try..." If only I had a webcam set up...

mea culpa crap...

Okay, I lied. We took my mother on a bike ride and then I staked my tomatoes, watered the plants, gave the animals their meds and got sleepy. Farfigknugen. I'll try to get to it tonight. Ebay, that is.

and then...

I'm not going to bed until I have something up on Ebay. Honest. I can't get anything done. I'm moving in slow motion and the world seems to have sped up to mach 3.

I am the gum on my shoe.

No, that doesn't make any sense.

But it feels just about right.

one long-ass post...

Furry Kids Update: Apparently finding out the right maintenance dose for Cushing's Disease can be tricky, so the vet took more blood to see what her cortisol levels were and put her on Prednisone for a couple of days until we get results back. Then, we might find that we need to adjust her Lysodren dosage. So, hopefully we'll be okay in the long-run. I'm taking poor little Rooney to the vet today after work because he's getting dehydrated again.

Father's Day is bearing down on me like an oppressive heat wave. I can hardly breathe. Sunday's paper was stuffed with flyers for Father's Day gifts. People mention in passing what they are going to get their fathers for Father's Day. Every sign I pass says "Don't forget Dad this Father's Day!" "Father's Day Sale!" I can't get to Father's Day fast enough so Father's Day can be over. I have to constantly dart my eyes away to keep the constant onslaught of advertising at bay. It's EVERYWHERE--Father's Day. It's like being constantly impaled through the heart.

I am not sitting at home on Father's Day. I am going to a semi-worth-hearing music festival. Hopefully getting away from the stacks of photos, cards and other reminders will keep me from completely wigging out this Sunday. I just want to get through it. Man, it hurts. Man, I can't even think straight.

One thing I have gotten an education on is grief. We only touched on grief a little in grad school and I really didn't feel the need to delve into it, but I will never look at loss the same way. I will know why a person still can't string together a sentence four months later. I'm still scheduling meetings on the wrong month.

One thing I wanted to know was how long am I going to feel as though I've got an ax in middle of my back. The answer is: a long time. The following information is some ballpark timelines on the long-term toll grief dishes out. The information comes from Beyond Indigo. It's been a very helpful site for me.

1.SHOCK AND NUMBNESS (High level during first 2 weeks)

Feelings may include: disbelief, denial, anger, guilt.

Behaviours may include: crying, searching, sighing, physical symptoms, loss of appetite, sleep disturbance, muscle weakness, limited concentration, inability to make decisions, emotional outburst(s), impeded functioning.

2.SEARCHING AND YEARNING (High level from 2 weeks to 4 months)

Feelings may include: despair, apathy, depression, anger, guilt, hopelessness, self-doubt, very sensitive to stimuli.

Behaviours may include: restlessness, impatience, poor memory and lack of concentration, social isolation, crying, anger, loss of energy, testing what is real.

Comments: In crisis, we become open to a wider spectrum of stimuli in our environment. We are susceptible to over-reading stimuli. We need to talk things out in order to refocus our interpretations. We cannot get through the mourning process alone. It is important to reach out during the first four months when motivation is high.

3.DISORIENTATION (Peaks at 4-7 months)

Feelings may include: depression, guilt, disorganization, feeling that grieving is a disease.

Behaviours may include: low compliance with orders of physician, resistance to reaching out or sharing with others, urge to try to live as if nothing has happened, restlessness, irritability.

Comments: It is at this stage that an awareness of reality and it's consequences is very high. A weight loss or gain of more than 10 pounds may occur. The victim must beware of trying to live as if nothing has happened or giving into the urge to flee the setting in which the loss occurred, for these are temporary solutions to a permanent situation.

4.REORGANIZATION (Takes 18-24 months to stabilize after major change)

Feelings may include: sense of release, no longer obsessed by loss, renewed hope and optimism.

Behaviours may include: renewed energy, stable sleeping and eating habits, relief from physical symptoms, better judgment making, increased interest in goals for the future.

Comments: All four phases peak on anniversary days or your "significant" days. We mourn loss, both through death and major joyous changes (graduation, wedding, new job). Depression is nature's way of getting you to simmer down.

There is general agreement among the experts on acute post-loss grief that these phases are not discrete and sequential. They do not follow each other in any prescribed order. They tend, rather, to overlap and to proceed in a jagged pattern of a forward thrust, then retreat to an earlier phase, then a forward movement again. No two people will react alike, and the same person will not react in the same way to every loss. However, each phase must be experienced to a peak of intensity before it can be resolved. Normal grief is healthy and should, under favorable environmental conditions, lead not only to recovery, but also to growth and healthy change. The grieving process can be visualized as a cycle specifically concerned with grieving or loss. This "cycle" generally follows a "crisis" or unexpected event. The following diagrams provide illustrations of the Grief/Loss Process and precipitating Crisis Experience.

ON DEALING WITH A TRAGIC DEATH

The following thoughts on coping are offered by Reverend Kenneth Czillinger of Cincinnati, Ohio, who for the past 10 years has been involved in working with the dying and grieving, and more recently has participated in forming support groups for parents who have lost children through death.

1. Generally it takes 18-24 months just to stabilize after the death of a family member. It can take much longer when the death was a violent one. Recognize the length of mourning process. Beware of developing unreal expectations of yourself.

2. Your worst times usually are not at the moment a tragic event takes place. Then you are in a state of shock or numbness. Often you slide "into the pits" 4-7 months after the event. Strangely, when you're in the pits and tempted to despair, this may be the time when most people expect you to be over your loss.

3. When people ask you how you're doing, don't always say, "Fine." Let some people know how terrible you feel.

4. Talking with a true friend or with others who have been there and survived can be very helpful. Those who have been there speak your language. Only they can really say, "I know; I understand." You are not alone.

5. Often depression is a cover for anger. Learn to uncork your bottle and find appropriate ways to release your bottled-up anger. What you're going through seems so unfair and unjust.

6. Take time to lament, to experience being a victim. It may be necessary to spend some time feeling sorry for yourself. "Pity parties" sometimes are necessary and can be therapeutic.

7. It's all right to cry, to question, to be weak. Beware of allowing yourself to be "put on a pedestal" by others who tell you what an inspiration you are because of your strength and your ability to cope so well. If they only knew!

8. Remember you may be a rookie at the experience you're going through. This is probably the first tragic death you've coped with. You're new at this, and you don't know what to do or how to act. You need help.

9. Reach out and try to help others in some small ways at least. This little step forward may help prevent you from dwelling on yourself.

10. Many times of crisis ultimately can become times of opportunity. Mysteriously your faith in yourself, in others, in God can be deepened through crisis. Seek out persons who can serve as symbols of hope for you.

wah.

I wanted to have auctions up by now, but we kept "squeezing things in" this weekend and I ran out of time. Soon.

I am worried about Sadie. She couldn't get up the stairs this morning she was so weak. I'm taking her to the vet this afternoon to see what's up. Today was her day to take her weekly Lysodren, but I opted to not give it to her until I know why she is so terribly weak. :-(

a photo is worth...

I got home later than usual last night. Yuki expressed his disgust openly...

Even Peanut gave me the evil eye. "And just where have YOU been?"

But Sadie was just happy to see me. When hubby comes in the door, I say "Go get Papa!" and she runs to meet him at the door. That's what she's doing here--with a cat toy in her mouth. It was so slobbery afterward that Peanut tried to cover it up like a pile of litter box poo. Shoo! Sadie seems to be feeling better...we just have to give her Prednisone in conjunction with her weekly dose of Lysodren.


Happy Friday. :-)

YAY!!!!!!

The ban on using federal funds to slaughter horses has been banned for one year thanks to a landslide vote in the House! Since the ban is buried in the appropriations bill, it will have to also be voted on by the Senate to become a permanent. Please see this post for further action...we need your help to make the ban stick for good.

welp, it's Thursday...

Welp, another week gone. Welp, still haven't cleaned the bathrooms. Welp, still haven't cleaned out studio space.

I am going to sell a bunch of my yarn. I love to knit, but I am finding out that I need something more immediate and I have discovered something I love more. I'm not going to sell all of it, but maybe half--mainly because I need the room for my other stuff. I'll announce it here before I put it on Ebay. It's nice stuff, so you knitters be on the lookout.

I did work on the doggie painting last night (from the last post). I can't believe I painted her little back so askew. I'm not terribly good at exact likenesses, but I wasn't too disappointed with the head. It's a pretty sophmoric attempt I suppose, but I'm learning as I go. I think I more enjoy painting and creating from my imagination, but I know I learn a lot when I try to recreate something I see as well. It just doesn't have the little spark of life that the others do. I'm probably technically a rotten painter, but when I paint from the inside-out, something unique happens that is honest and beyond my control. Yeah, whatever.

My car is in the shop today for a tune-up. Of course I get a call and find out I also need brakes. I'm all pissy today and I'm not sure why. I started out the day in a good mood, then I took a u-turn and went down Livid Lane.

Shit bugs me sometimes.

let there be air...

The AC man came, fixed it and saw that it was Good. We slept in chilly bliss last night with the cats strewn about the bed like stuffed animals.

Speaking of animals, here's an attempt to paint a daschund, however, I made horrible perspective errors in the folds of skin behind the head. I will have to fix that awful mistake. I believe this one is 9 x 12 inches. I figured it would not turn out, so I worked on some cheap canvas board. Dummy.

Woof. Have a good day.

p.s. I am going to put some of my paintings up for sale on Ebay this weekend if you are interested. I'll post a notice here.

God's little to-do list...

Well, apparently God caught me being bored or something. Now that it's in the 90's the air decided to go out at the house. Cha-ching.

Poor little kitties. Ain't nothin' worse than wearing a fur coat in the heat and squirrels peeing in the fireplace (yes, Ralphie procreated...a lot). Hot house + squirrel pee and slobber = stinky house. The problem is now: 1) we're afraid we've domesticated them, and 2) they are SO cute that we can't stop feeding them. When they need water or food they pick up the little plastic bowls and bang them against the fireplace screen. No shit. Just like tin cups at the prison. They hide behind the logs while my husband puts out new stuff and come tumbling over the moment the bowls are set in place. If I could tell them apart, I'd name them, but for now, they are all Ralphies.

Please, oh please, let the air be fixed soon.

a cornucopia of bliss and misery...

I hope you all had a good weekend. Mine was alternately horrible and good. The good things were bike riding on nature trails and greenways, hanging out with the hubby, finding out that the treatment worked for Sadie.

The rotten part was going over probate paperwork, weeping at my father's grave and viewing 10,000 sale papers and signs about Father's Day.

I also have been working on a silly little painting on 9 x 12 in. canvas board called "Lydia finally began to see she was becoming a Crazy Cat Lady"...it's not finished...there are lots of corrections and things to do, but I think it's cute so far. I was going to call it "garage cats," but thought better of it.

        

playing with paint...

"Crazy Cat Lady's House at Mealtime"

people are stupid, really...no, really...

People do not know how to handle themselves around death. It's the one thing we can't study and report back on firsthand. Even for those who have faith, we don't know what it looks like on the other side...it is the Great Mystery.

Another great mystery is why people don't keep their mouths shut when they are wigging out. Wigging Out=Shut Up. It's a simple formula.

Here's some folks who didn't understand the formula:

One of my best friends said to me at the funeral, "I'm sorry, dead people creep me out." Hmm, that dead person was my father. Thanks, next...

Another closely related bloke said at the funeral,"Well, it's done. It's over with now." OK, let's go have a pizza party...right after I poke your eyes out...

From the freakin' funeral director came a detailed account of how he was going to try to manipulate a deep crease in Daddy's face and try to get it to "pop" back out so we could have an open casket. He then went into a detailed explanation of how when the body cools the blood thickens and it's harder to manipulate the skin...etc. You. Stupid. Redneck. Fuckwad. Save it for the mortician's convention...you're talking about my Daddy.

From my own mother (I'll chalk it up to being crazy with grief)..."Well, that's what's left of him" (pointing at the casket while talking to a relative)...

While we were picking out a casket for Daddy, an unnamed relative thought it was funny when she asked my mother if she wanted to go ahead and pick out hers while she was there. Yeah, real funny. Now, where did I put that darn pipe wrench...?

Then there's all the usual "oh, he looks so good," "they really did a good job on him..." Yeah, he looked even better when he was alive.

Even worse, we had some folks throwing a family reunion at the funeral. I had to tune out the laughing and knee-slapping. I'm surprised they didn't bring popcorn. You know you can choke on popcorn...

All the while, I was thinking if Daddy could, he would reach up and snap the lid closed and light up a cigarette while grumbling about the whole thing. Daddy was an extremely private man and to have all those people standing over him, staring at him, examining every hair on his head really, really disturbed me. I wanted to shoo them away like nasty flies.

Shoo. Fly. Shoo.

woof.

A couple of 12 x 12 folk art paintings for friends. Acrylic on gallery wrap canvas.

I'm not sure my week of vacation was relaxing, but it did give me a much needed break from the office. I was contemplating applying for another position within the company, but I think I need to sit still--as hard as that is right now.

The father's day commercials, signs, specials are driving me insane.

p.s. Sadie finished her week-long mega-dosing of Lysodren and has had her post-test. We are awaiting results. Hopefully the treatment worked and we can manage her Cushing's Disease with a maintenance dose from now on.

Today...

I'm on vacation this week. Today was my Daddy's 70th birthday. I celebrated it with him at his grave...still covered with grassless clay dirt. It was a windy, warm day and the emptiness was beyond my comprehension. I placed new flowers in the vases and noodled with them for 30 minutes before I was satisfied. I love you Daddy. I know you can see me from where you are now. I just wish I could see you.

what ding-a-ling thought of this?

My husband was out on the job and took this picture. It's not a joke. It's a real ice cream truck. I'm not sure I want to lick any ding-a-ling desserts.

Can you imagine it on your resume?

1999-2005--Ding-a-ling Operator--Responsible for the regional dessimination of Ding-a-ling brand treats to children and adults. Daily reporting of Ding-a-Ling inventory and incoming cash for Ding-a-Ling services. Reported directly to Ding-a-Ling President. Created current slogan "Ding-a-Ling Ice Cream--we take a licking for less."

Thanks to hubby for the funny pic.

do I have to always have a title?

Well. Happy Wednesday.

Anyway.

About a week ago, my super-duper-fantastic hubby had this laying in my car seat when I headed out to work--a little music from the ever-so-weird Beck and a "Crazy Cat Lady" action figure. I let out a much-needed laugh. He knows me too well.

And I've been painting a tad more. This kitty and bird (I seemed to be obsessed with the "bird on cat head" theme) is an experiment with an acrylic pumice goop to texturize a canvas board. I really like how it looks--sketchy, almost like pastel or a sidewalk chalk drawing. Boy does that texture eat up a lot of paint though. I'm glad I did something small.

And another painting that is 10" x 18" (I think). It has a lot to do with Daddy. The little console table is a table in his house left to him by his own parents and the bird is picking at some potted chives that was sitting in his kitchen windowsill. The cactus was also sitting on that sill (though it was not the same kind of cactus). Dogs and cats are mandatory of course. I made three trees in the background and realized that was probably my thoughts of Daddy going toward God--the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Daddy had a terrifying dream of his death that was frighteningly close to what actually happened to him. At the end of the dream he was sailing on a ship toward a beautiful bright place with rolling hills, so I suppose that's where the imagery came from. The painting isn't finished, but it's close.

I can't tell you how healing making art has been for me. I don't know how I would be doing if I didn't have self-expressive outlets like these. I really wish I could make art and write for the rest of my life, but that might be a pipe dream. Don't know. I don't know a lot of things right now. And I guess that's okay.

Sadie-lou-who...

Well, I got bad news on Sadie's test for Cushing's Disease. She does have it. We start a "loading dose" of Lysodren tonight and stay on it for a week. From Kate Connick's site: "Lysodren selectively destroys adrenal cortex tissue, the cells that produce glucocorticoid hormones. An initial week or so of daily lysodren (a loading or induction phase) damages the adrenals enough to bring cortisol blood levels within normal ranges and make Cushingoid symptoms begin to abate." The drug is so strong she has to take a companion dose of prednisone. She will most likely feel pretty sick during this coming week. *tears*

The day after we finish the loading dose, we will take her in for a ACTH stimulation test to see if enough tissue has been destroyed to bring the cortisol levels back down to normal. The danger is if too much of the adrenal tissue is destroyed then she could develop permanent Addison's Disease.

If the treatment is effective (most of the time it is), she will take Lysodren once a week for the rest of her life.

Think good doggie thoughts. I will keep you guys posted. Watch your older dogs for this disease. I didn't realize it was so common. Sadie's first sign was elevated liver enzymes.

ants in my pants...

I've been a nervous wreck all day today...leg jitters, can't sit still, hating my job a whole lot worse than normal, no ability to concentrate, no motivation...

I've hated my job for some time now and I'm thinking about applying for some other position within the company, but I haven't decided. You have to be very careful about making big changes during times of grief because many, including me, have an overwhelming urge to escape wherever they currently are. It's almost at a panic level for me. Before Daddy was killed, I could force my way through my assignments and do a pretty good job, but right now work feels like a good solid 8 hours of choking down broken glass. I really, really hate it. Or maybe I really, really hate the bone-crushing emotions I'm carrying around. Or maybe it's both. One thing is for sure...it's not "neither."

Fuck. I'll try to be funny next time. Maybe. If I feel like it.

different...

Looks different here, eh? I am different so the blog has to look different. The picture in the header is really me at about 4 years old. I still stick my lip out at 40. I guess it's genetic. I really did get bubblegum in my hair shortly after that photograph was taken and had to get all my hair cut off. It immediately turned brown, went straight and stayed that way.

My heart goes out to all of you guys who have lost your parents, especially at a young age; especially in an unexpected tragedy. I do have a much deeper sense of compassion for people who have lost loved ones.

Grief takes a VERY long time and seems like a wound that couldn't possibly heal. There is no "getting over it." There's only managing it a bit better as time marches on. Two months seems only like two days since it happened, although I don't burst into tears in public anymore. There are times it aches as if I were sitting in that little folding chair listening to the honor guard firing their guns or reading my goodbye letter to Daddy at his casket then placing it inside his suit jacket. Sometimes it grabs me so hard I gasp out of the blue or just zone out for long periods of time.

I will see him again, but the separation until then is so hard to endure.

Shit. I was going to post a non-traumatic entry. I'll try to make good by the end of the day.

Thanks for sharing your stories, your hearts, your tears.

70

Daddy would have been 70 May 23. It's been 70 days since we buried him. It's been 74 days since I saw him removed from the wooded acreage behind his property in a black body bag. I squeezed the toe of his hiking boot that peeked through the last unzipped inches and told him goodbye. They wouldn't let me see him because he had died two days before. He had been pinned between a tree and his ATV on a steep hill. They said the wheels caught a root and toppled the vehicle on top of him, sending them both skidding down the steep ridge. His neck was bent down hard between the machine and a small tree. He had shot three times from a pistol to call for help. And there were places where he had struggled to dig out. Days before we had planned a trip to IOWA together. Our first real father-daughter trip. It was a huge antique radio auction and he seemed excited. It was three weeks before I got the death certificate that said the estimated time between the accident and onset of death was minutes. For three weeks I couldn't breathe and my chest hurt so bad I thought I might be having a heart attack. Daddy was as strong as a 40 year-old man, but he got the ATV to get around his property because he had a recurrent infection in his hip.

Sometimes I still can't breathe. I can't stand the fact that he was hurting with no help; that he struggled to live, but died. God help me. I pray that every night.

doggie, oh doggie...

Why I am infested with such a long string of veterinary problems right now (of all times) is beyond me. Perhaps God is trying to provide me urgent distractions. Sadie is being tested for Cushing's disease today.

many thanks...

Thanks a bunch for all the nice compliments on my little folk art paintings. I wasn't expecting such a reaction. It was a really nice boost for me whilst I am feeling rather lowly and such...

Here's another--"Rush hour in Heaven"--6 x 6 in.

p.s. the little yellow bird from the last posting was actually a shameless copy of a bird I saw painted on Ebay...just to let you know I was doing that for my own enjoyment--never to sell or anything like that. The artist is RCollins on Ebay...toodles and kisses for all you nice people out there. :-)

Creating...

After Daddy died I couldn't go back to felting or dollmaking. I think it felt too much like I was just "going about my business." Instead, I took my obsessive doodling to canvas. The silly little paintings I've made are all sizes and have provided me with a calming escape during this awful time. In fact, it's been the only thing I've found that will calm me down enough to keep going. I'm self-taught, but I'm not trying to impress, just express. I'm sharing them here in any case...some of the photos suck, sorry.

Race to the Slaughterhouse...

Just as suspected, there is a mad dash to the slaughterhouse with wild horses. Those who supported the sale of wild horses said it would never happen, but with an instant profit of up to $600 per horse, scumbags are lying and hauling the animals off before a stop can be put to it. The first such report was a man in Oklahoma who claimed to be a minister and wanted the horses "for a troubled youth program." The horses were slaughtered in Illinois within three days. Now 35 more horses have been slaughtered. Emergency meetings are being called in Washington. Rumor has it that the sales have been suspended until further notice.

An extra thanks goes to Ford Motor Company for its funding of the rescue of 52 mustangs. I'm thinking my next car might be a Ford...

GO TO THE BLOG TO FIND OUT MORE. PLEASE WRITE YOUR LEGISLATORS.

Stone...

Momma and I visited Daddy's grave yesterday. The marker had been set. A bird had pooped on top of it and I imagined him rolling his eyes and thinking "even in the grave I get crapped on!" It was hard to see it all set in stone and even harder to think of his earthly body stored in a box below my feet.

A few genes shy of a human...

Yet another gene-pool pollutant. This dude isn't worth the dirt he's standing on in my opinion. Online Hunting Firm Is Now the Quarry.

It's been around for a while, but it's still neat: FLASH MIND READER

Peanut's eyes...

Aren't Peanut's eyes spectacular?

Also, the knots in Grayson's back legs seem to be going away, so it's probably not the vaccine-related cancer previously suspected. His daily heart medication has gotten him feeling good again. So that's good news. Thanks all for the supportive comments...again and again...you've all been so wonderful. Never underestimate the value of a few kind words to someone who is grieving or in trouble.

I am happy report something good for a change. Rooney is eating. The poor kid has been on three types of antibiotics, prednisone and steroids--and had to have his teeth scaled as well as be tube-fed for two consecutive days (cha-ching). But, he's eating. He's eating! We still don't know what definitely caused his severe loss of appetite, but he's on the mend. The poor little guy got down to under 5 pounds!

(Atticus is supervising in the background)

And Yuki has decided to revive an old pasttime from his days as a blood donor cat...eating toilet paper rolls. Oh, Yuki, Yuki, Yuki. But you know that's not Yuki in the picture, that's Peanut! Peanut? Yes, we have five cats now. I haven't announced his arrival because his adoption was kind of a personal thing. Daddy had a little cat named Peanut (that was NOT his--he just didn't want to see her starve-ha) and my little boy Peanut looks a good bit like his little kitty pal. Anyway, Peanut is saying "No, mommy, I did NOT do that! But could you turn the bathroom faucet on so I could get a cold drink?"

More about Peanut soon...

Wisconsin...home of great cheese and retards with guns...

Wisconsin considers hunting feral cats

Don't let your kitty outside...he might be fair game.

Ah, man's solution to all previous mistakes--kill the victim. Kill the horses we've neglected. Kill the pets of which we've tired. Throw the kittens in a sack and drown them instead of fixing the cat. Destroy the ecosystem so we can have immediate gratification. Kill, destroy, repeat in video game for reinforcement.

Forget responsibility. Forget problem-solving. Forget thinking long-term--or thinking period. Kill it now and it will rot and go away. Otherwise, we might be inconvenienced. Otherwise, we might have to make an effort.

Our gene pool is irreversibly polluted with careless, stupid and wasteful people.

I'm starting to wonder if the conscionable part of the human brain is slowly being wasted away from centuries of creepy people breeding with one another. Too many primitive brains are shuffling around on the sidewalks these days.

We're the only species that chooses to kill and cause suffering. Our society is advanced enough to do better, but we choose to be lesser beings. Much less.

so far, so painful...

I am having a bit of trouble getting myself back together. It's not easy losing your father, but when you lose him just as you are finally getting to know him, it seems like you've fallen into a deep black hole with no exit.

I am stronger than I suspected, but grief feels like a constant drip of acid that disintegrates my mind and heart.

Where shall I go? Who will I be now? Everything I knew is upside-down and torn apart. I gave up making choices. I gave it over to God. I'm waiting for an answer to arrive. I'm angry at everyone around me going on with their lives.

"The Letter Edged in Black." The words to the song were written on a piece of folded paper in a box of memorabilia I found. I thought it was a poetic letter written to someone, but it was, as I found after a little research, the words to an old bluegrass song. I wondered if it pertained to my great-grandmother's death, but I will never know.

Many things in the memorabilia boxes have perplexed me. Mysterious people, cryptic letters, faded writing, saved receipts, newspaper articles, war stamp books and miscellaneous notices. I would have wanted to learn about all those pieces and how they fit together with Daddy, but he's gone forever. His family is gone. He was such a private man he hardly told his own family anything. I felt terrible going through his things, but I couldn't stop, and still can't, because there were so many clues to who he was, what he liked, how he thought, what made him sad - things I would have liked to have known before he left us. Things we had in common. We were much alike, which has made it even more heart-rending.

There was the death of the man I knew, the one I was getting to know and the one that could have been. Complicated relationships render complicated grief. It's been almost unbearable.

I lay awake at night and stare out the window looking for a hawk, a shooting star; a luminous spirit threading itself through the trees to bring me a message of hope, but I am only left with prayer and heavy eyelids. Eventually I sink back down into the pillow and try to go to sleep.

My mind wanders. I make mistakes at work. I worry about my mother and the stress she's going through. She's already had several mini-strokes and I'm terrified she will leave me unexpectedly as well.

Doubt, worry, the incessant grinding of moving forward in slow-motion while the world moves around you at a lightning pace-it's mind-numbing. I look like I am functioning, but I'm not functioning. Time, the eternal fire in which we burn...

Not to mention I found out our kitty Grayson has heart disease and possibly cancer in his back leg and Rooney has been in the veterinary hospital since Monday. He won't eat or drink.

I thought I'd never write in this stupid blog again, but I am losing it...

thanks...be well...

mystery photos...

This photo is one of several very old snapshots I found in a keepsake box. Apparently it was a photo my grandmother saved (both of my grandparents are gone), although I have no idea who it might be. It was probably taken in the early 1920's or a little earlier judging from the look of similar photos that had dates. It is particularly intriguing to me for some reason and I find myself pulling it out often. My goal in life right now is two-fold: make it to work and breathe. And I'm having a hard time with the breathing part. I've never felt pain like this in my life. My muscles are so tight my skin burns. Hopefully, someday I can actually write about the accident a little, but right now I am broken into a million pieces--all scattered around an empty space in my chest that could swallow the universe whole. Posting will be quite sporadic as will blog-surfing. For those of you I've become close to, please feel free to email me at any time. Your words of kindness have meant a great deal to me.