Heartbroken

My companion for 16 years, Miss Kitty, was euthanized Monday Oct 12, 2009. Miss kitty came from a rough background. When we lived in Denver Ginny had to live with us because her MS was causing her seizures and she could no longer live alone. She was a grown woman but she needed us. She volunteered at a Rescue Society for cats on the farthes other side of Denver possible. One weekend she came back and said there was a cat there I just had to see. She was so tiny and athe silkiest fur shed ever felt. So Phil and I went and Phil saying all the time no cat no cat no cat. Miss Kitty was called Little Fast Streak and she was in a special room where they kept the especially feral cats, the ones who just wouldn't calm down. She'd come from a hoarders home with most of the cats euthanized when they been taken from the home by Animal Authority. Miss Kitty, thought to be a kitten, was given to the Society. They discovered she wws older than that by her teeth and she'd had kittens. They thought she was 4 but a runt and practiclly starved. Ginny has been the only person who had been able to get near her cage without violence. By the way--Ginny didn't tell me that until afetr wards. I went into the rooom and Ginny took her out of the cage and she was so tiny I could hold her in my one hand and she purred and rubbed her head against me and her tiny little black body was mine. She even let Phil hold her a moment but her eyes were never off mine. We took her immediately. I'd never felt such silky hair except in a babys head.

We got her home to our big house of many floors and let her out of her cage and she ran into Ginnys old woooden dollhouse and we never saw her her again for two years.We even fed her in the dollhouse. Although at night she would come into the bedroom and sleep curled up at my neck purring so loudly she'd wake up Phil.

She was a deeply damaged cat. the horrors she had lived through I can't bear to think of. Eventually she let Phil hold her and we saw finally she was a tuxedo with a frill of white on her tummy and half a mustache in white and goatee. She weighed about four pounds. When we could catch her to get her to a vet she was slowly growing and she eventually ha to quit living in the empty dollhouse. I had her for sixteen years and she never loved anout person, never shared even an inkling of interest in what anyone else was doing. Food did not entice her. Just my voice. Eventually we found her name. She'd come in to me and and rubbed her self around my legs and then bounced off and I said Who do you think you are Miss Kitty? And she stopped and turned around and talked to me. That was her name. She'd been waiting for me to find it. She 'd talk to me all the time. Just me though. Nobody else.

My how things change. I'm in college--forever. I have a great grandchild I adore. I'm old enough to be able to scream "GET OFF MY FUCKING GRASS!" and I mean the yard. I am still in the fly-over state---but if things get any worse I will soon be living anywhere I can in the car. I've been sicker, and far more sane, than I have been in years. It could be because there are no teenagers in the house. They are in my life since most of the students in college are teenagers--I am, however, not the only ancient one (GOD I HATE being called MA'M.) I have had two stories published and two poems published in the college literary magazine--okay--no money--BUT I'M WRITING! I'm working on a book that until now has been written on napkins, paper towels, envelope backs, backs of school papers and several random notebooks that I can't find. I'm trying to get up the nerve to put it on the computer. It does nothing if I can't/don't get it on the computer. Except make me really proud that I'm writing again. The Universe has been doing all it can to make my self humble and feel regret--it ain't working. I'm old, I'm hard and I'm not giving in to the Universe until I damn well feel like it. Oh yeah--and I'm angry too.Things are NOT beautiful, things are NOT fine, things are NOT going to get better unless I CHANGE THEM. I'm no 4.0 student. I'm barely a student. I can't do anything even resembling math and algebra is ---just hell. But I do okay in everything else. I met someone I thought I could have as a friend, turns out I can't. I met someone I don't want as a friend, turns out they want to be friends. I bitch a lot. A LOT. The hell with Christmas cards. GOT ZERO--SEND ZERO. I'm on Facebook, having a ball with all the snarky one liners my little stupid non 4.0 brain can come up with and loving every minute of it. My credit score is lower than my IQ. Broke is now part of my name. And my soul. I did---and this one made me actually cry once I was out of class---see my own DNA. It absolutely blew me away. That was me! Not what my parents did to me, not my grandparents, not my kids none none my husbands--it was ME in about 15 to 20 little white cloudy coils I could see ME! I've been in tears over math class cause I can't do it--I was in tears in History of Nebraska because an Indian man told of being beaten in the White Indian School--I had to leave the room--but this was happy crying. I was moved beyond anything--and I mean anything in my life. I saw me! Not an image or a reflection--no one else on earth looks like my DNA--so no one else is ME. There are very good things in college. Not a lot--but some--make the hell part worth it. Nobody I told cared I saw my DNA but me. Oh well, that's Kathy's life.

Long Time No See

It is 11 months since I last wrote. Maybe by now no one looks and I can write with no one getting their knickers in a twist.

I am in therapy. I am doing nothing at all but ironing, cleaning a little and cooking. I am wearing the first new clothes I've had in years and I'm almost what you could call "happy". Not "HAPPY!" just "happy". I'm not crying at comercials, although I do cry at good sad movies. I'm laughing a little and I'm not so caught up in crap I can't get out of that I can't get out of it. Maybe.

Actually that is what is still wrong. This one little thing is screwing with my life and though I know how to get out of it I can't make the moves necessary. I am frozen. I feel it every day. I know I need to stop it but...

Oh and don't go thinking I'm on drugs or drinking or something, it isn't that. It is people who need me. I can't let go of people who need me even when they are toxic. I can get rid of people who care for me, people who don't give a damn about me, people who I love and people I hate. But I can't let go of someone who needs me.

I will, eventually. Really. Maybe before I have a complete breakdown. Their needs are so great. But I already know this and can't act in any way but self destructing and self value-ing (is that even a word?)it's an emotional addiction. I need to be needed. I work hard to make the person NOT need me and then die a little bit when they show me they took the lesson to heart and need me less. Sigh.

Oh well. Welcome back Kathy, long time no see.

My pastor is really mad at me for putting out there that she is nuts--however, I've said it to her face many times. The bad thing is my son John--the girls Dad-- called my pastor and she is mad about that. All I get are hang up calls and His trying to get on the girls face books etc. My Pastor ---he actually speaks to.

John--DON'T CALL THE PASTOR!!!
DON'T CALL US!!!!!!!

Your daughter is as safe as she wants to be and doesn't want to hear, see, or know you. Drop it. It's bad enough the heritage you and Gina left them with---that is the biggest problem Alyssa has. Six years of a frightening and unstable life with drugged out drunks and fear fear fear! And she is still afraid. I will not put anything else on about the girls. Ever. Man when we screw up we do it good huh?

Somebody says "Give me the child from birth to five years and that child is mine forever. "

We got one child in time, but not the other. And she is paying a bigger price than she can bear.
She needs to come home and finish school--not follow in your footsteps.

And yeah--I've talked to lots of therapists and psychiatrists and I am not nuts--I'm eccentric, creative to a fault, bored, sick and in pain but none of those is nuts. My Pastor is every bit as nuts as I am. But I am sorry she felt it was wrong to put it on my blog where no one has ever visited except family members.

And I'm getting rid of the blog too. I want to really write now. And then get the hell out of here.

Thanks everybody--I'm so pissed off now I should write a best seller.

hell in untied tennis shoes

We are having the worst years of our lives--health and the hormones of teenage girls. The oldest is now living with our Pastor who apparently never heard of grounding --she was cutting herself and is madly in love with a tiny 21 year old twerp who can't spell or read--Alyssa failed her classes by simply not turning in her homework she actually did--She was an honor roll kid for the last 10 years--now she wants to live with this jackass and we all have to go to therapy evey week and she refuses to speak. I'd slap her face if I could do it and not get put in jail for abuse.

Annie went to Europe-last summer for three weeks with the state of Neb. best band kids-- is still on the honor roll and is only driving us crazy with all the colleges she is hearing from--she is only in 10th grade!She goes to Chicago this June for a big orchestra event. Just to be friendly with Alysssa Annie cut herself too but she quit--meanwhile Alyssa plays tic tak toe in light little cuts on her wrist. But she ran away, and when we called police and they saw the cuts they took her--oh--I GUESS I'd better tell why the police took her--I'd said when we got her grades that she was really cutting her chances for jobs--she won't work in food, that's disgusting, she doese'nt want to work reatail because she hates people, she can't actually get a job with her requirement that no one ever tell her "no". That leaves being a prostitute, if her price is right she won't hear no. Phil said she'd need math (she failed it) I said well you actually just give the money to your pimp. That pissed her off. And she told the police that I called her a prostitue--which I didn't--we have gone on trips to phychitrists in North Paltte who said we were not abusing Alyssa, and she needs to straighten up--we had Social Services in our no abuse and Alyssa needs to straighten up( by the way all the psychitrists and therapists nearly fell on the floor laughing at my job choice description--and one guy slapped Phil on the back and said good comeback--that's hilarious!)--but we have to pay for her to go into foster homes so our pastor said she'd take Alyssa. And now I know what a nutcase she is. The Pastor. I think the Pastor is nuttier than I am and that is saying something!

I" m on enough drugs to kill a good sized horse.Fortunately I'm not a horse.

But I've lost weight, have my diabetes under control and actually want to write again.Being pissed off is usually why I write. And I'm really pissed off.

Is It Love ?

For reasons I've no need to go in to I was discussing something nice my parents had done for me. I had two examples, one about my Dad and one about my Mom but by the time we got around to it I couldn't remember it. It was gone. I'd thought of it for almost a week and when I needed it---GONE.
As soon as I was in the car I remembered it. I turned on the air conditioning backed out of the drive turned the wrong way and then turned around again the right way (also a metaphor ? allegory? for my life).

Because it wasn't really something my Mom did nice for me.

So--here's what happened. I was in third grade at Bradley Elementary. I do not remember my teacher--I remember only three of my teachers in my whole life --and obviously--up until this point in my third grade life I'd made no dent in her brain, either. We were doing our grade school talent show for the parents. The third grade was going to sing the # 1 Hit Parade song of the season--Perry Como's Catch A Falling Star. If you don't know the song let alone the singer it doesn't really matter except that it required all of the 30 children in the 3rd grade Bradley Elementary class to bring a cardboard star with glitter on it that we would move over our heads as we sang. Mimeograph instructions were sent out with dimensions and suggestions for brands of products to buy and please every one's star must be THE SAME SIZE. (God I loved mimeographs--I'm surprised anything resembling purple ink got home to my house a few blocks away I'd sniffed so hard and so deep and I always regretted handing it over to my mother. )

Any way--mother read the instructions, swore and screamed that she didn't have time, money, ability or desire to do it as she always did over everything I wanted or needed or must have. And then she did what she always did--She called Dad at work for the list of things to buy, set up a card table in the living room, taped newspaper on it, screamed at us all until we went to sleep and while we slept she did her magic. I had the most stunning five pointed silver glittered star you ever saw. It even had a handle on the back so I didn't have to hold the edge and make the glitter come off. There was no square inch of that old grocery store carton cardboard that wasn't THICK with silver glitter. She always did that. Better than anybody. Bigger than anybody more perfect than anybody. I don't know 'who' at the time all that meant--I just knew it.

There was so much glitter on my star that when I took a step with it the glitter left a trail. Mom called Dad at work and made him come home and take me to school so the glitter would not be gone by the time I got to school. The program was at 3PM so he just went back home and helped with all the babies.

At 2:55 we all left our classroom to a full auditorium (well--I was what--7?8? thirty kids--two parents each --full auditorium.) We were behind the velvet curtain all standing where we had stood every day for two months practicing for the moment. I was so small I was always in the front row. I held my star out and the teacher did an absolutely classic double take and took the star from my hands. She looked up in the back row and called out for Susie Gunther to come down and "bring your star, dear!".

Susie Gunther was Shirley Temple. Really. Somebody took her from the movie screen and froze her and put her in my class. Blond hair with natural curls that fell in angel kisses around her perfectly round rosy pink face. She had lips that looked like bee stings and she was dressed in velvet and lace. Susie Gunther. My --what--opposite? I was small to the point of emaciated, I rarely smiled unless I was performing (I performed most of my child life) I sang like an angel but I looked like a starving orphan from Europe (a big thing at the time--my kids had starving kids in Bangladesh--their kids will have starving kids somewhere God knows). Susie's star was pathetic. It was too small. Cut from a Tide box, and IF Mommy made it she might have done so while watching Perry Como sing or perhaps after drinking another Martini--you could see the few odd squiggles of glue and not even a handful of glitter on it--not only that--the bright Tide box design showed.
Then my teacher did something I bet she will never forget eve if I did for a little while.She put me in the back row with big beautiful Susie Gunther's horrid star and Susie in the front--CENTER FRONT--with my star. The curtains opened, the teacher bowed and turned around to direct us.
"Catch a falling star and put it in your pock----"

That is as far as we got. My mother , all 5 feet of her was stomping on toes, screaming --screaming AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! as she got out of the middle of the row about 3/4ths of the way back. Her hand bag swinging her high heels clunking. She made it up to the stage and pushed the teacher out of the way and grabbed my star--uh--HER STAR-- out of Susie's hands and screamed for me "KATHY BEGLEY GET DOWN HERE THIS MINUTE!" She couldn't see me in the back. I squirmed through the group, mom took my hand and dragged me off the stage. By that time Dad was holding the auditorium door open... and we left.

I absolutely do not remember what happened after that but I do know both parents had to go back to school with me the next Monday.

And Susie Gunther and I never spoke again.

ON HOLD

Everything in my life is on hold. The ironing, the floor mopping, the dishes, the laundry, the dusting, the vacuuming. Can anybody see WHY my life is on hold? I DON'T WANT TO DO IT!
I want to go to the lake and have a picnic. I don't want to make the picnic you must understand. I want it to be there waiting for me. I want to go shopping at some huge mall. I'm talking malls that are bigger than the town I live in! I want to have a face lift. I want the LIFE STYLE lift which the ads claim doesn't hurt like the other kind. I don't want to hurt. I have enough of that.

Actually, I don't want any of the above (well maybe the face lift) I want my creative self to come back from where ever its gone. I want my life back. The one that disappeared. I really want my life-mind-creativity back.

I want to write again and paint again and make a few cards--I haven't made a card in months. I'd like to put new pictures up on this blog . Actually I'd like to know if anybody is actually reading this other than family members who get pissed off and call me to let me know. I'd like to see a new review of a book I've written in Publishers Weekly. I had one there once. It was so exciting.
All right I've had my pity party.


Now--politics! That oughta piss em all off!

I can't believe the crap that is being said by the Republicans now. I never could but lately it is so far out there in gaga land I'm worried a new party is going to be formed. The R (USH)
L (IMBAUGH) Party. And the ordinary everyday far right Republicans will have to really dig in to find a leader--(Oh please not the guy from Louisiana--can you imagine the editorial cartoons that one would make?) I can't believe nobody sees that Cheney is making his pre war criminal trial defense statements already! I can't believe very much of anything I see or read. Except in my little weekly newspaper where the editor makes me feel --normal. I don't know his political persuasion for sure--but I do know he makes me feel that I'm not the only one looking for old time stuff like ethics and morals and truth and goodness.

Yeah--that oughta piss off the relatives.

Who Am I Kidding

It's been awhile. Let's just say I have had a lot on my mind.
Annie is on her way to Europe. I can't believe it! But she earned it and with help from Grandpa Ken and Aunt Ginny and us and her job she got the bucks--and she is literally on her way to Europe with 286 other teenagers. And about 38 adults. I wouldn't be one of those adults if you paid me. I want to go to Europe. My children have been a few times and now my Grand Annie (and boy is big sister Alyssa pissed about that). I've never been to Europe. BUT even if they PAID ME TO GO--I wouldn't go with that many teenage glands wildly secreting. Nope. One of my friends is going and she is --shall we say-- in control of Annie--so I feel that Annie may actually get back to the USA--but then there was that JET CRASH we heard about somewhere Only found them today. In the Ocean. Bits of Jet everywhere. People fighting off sharks. It took them a long time to find that Jet-----
She will be okay.
She will be okay.
She will be okay.
who am I kidding--

Accidents happen

It's been quite a wild ride since New Years.

I don't want to go into all of it but Annie broke her leg skiing and then had surgery because it wasn't healing and now has two screws . She is on crutches which made the first meeting of the Euro trip a "trip"--it took all three of us to get her from place to place (and keep the unbelievably self centered space cadet musicians from knocking her over or stepping on her). But we did treat it as our vacation--so swimming and hot tub and eating out and 3 fun days--except for the surrounded by teenagers part.

I can't wait until she is off the crutches. Alyssa can't either since she now does the dishes all the time. We have to take her a lunch at school each day--there is only one cafeteria 7 blocks away so the kids all walk every day--so I'm getting food to her in blizzards and rain and MORE self centered teenagers---don't get me started--

Alyssa was nominated for National Honor Society. She had to be forced to fill out the papers. She said they won't choose her anyway. I said they won't choose her definitely if she doesn't fill out the forms. Well--I said the words but I was yelling them. Sheesh. Just because she hasn't yet been chosen to be a cheerleader after the six times she's tried doesn't mean she won't ever get anything. It just means she needs to raise her sights!

Even with being out of school for two weeks and not making it through the whole school days yet--Annie is on the straight A honor roll. Alyssa is on the B honor roll. They have been consistantly on honor rolls---and the experts told me they might need to be in special ed.

And my life is still on hold.

Ah--teenagers.

Changes

I got fired two days before Thanksgiving.

I am to blame. I lost my cool--although I have to say I thought the guy was off the phone--had hung up--when I said under my breath something I would never have said if it hadn't been such a bad day-- and I'm ashamed of it. Actually not long after the incident I went home in tears because I just couldn't take being called names anymore. They fired me the next day. And I was glad. I'm sixty years old. I really don't think a 60 year old woman ought to be forced to listen as people call her every nasty name in the book just because they couldn't pay their electric bill and got disconnected. I don't call anyone names when I get disconnected. And I've been disconnected a number of times in my 60 years. Believe me--I never once called the person on the other end of the line a name. My anger was reserved for myself and myself alone.

I have worked in customer service for over 20 years. When I began no one would have dreamed of calling me names. It was truly customer service and people just didn't do that often. In the 90's it changed. Men began to call names and by the end of 1999 women were ruder than the men. I mean I've watched it go from only creeps with no self control calling you a name when they don't get what they want to every Jack and Jill having breakdowns and finding new and more disgusting words to call you at customer service. I have worked for companies where you did NOT have to take it. They felt that their employees deserved to be treated civilized and decently. And I've worked for companies that say you'll take it. I don't work for them very long.

But this one is a record.

However--

It was that company's (the agency that works for the electric company answering phones)policy-you were not allowed to say anything or do anything about swearing and name calling. "We pay you to take it." Well--I won't take it I guess. At least not for $9.00 an hour and insurance.

Actually I can't think of an amount I would take to spend my eight hours of work being called names.

I shouldn't have said what I did.
And it was bad. Really bad even if it was in a whisper and I thought he was long gone. But he heard me.

You see--he hadn't paid his bill--three months and nine notices --it was over $1300.00. It was a business account. And his business was out of business without the electricity
He was Middle Eastern, heavy accent, screaming at me and swearing and calling me woman hating names and it wasn't the first call like that that day --by no means was it the first like that that day. Woman hating names, he called me.

And after I got his money and stated thank you for calling -----------I waited and started writing my notes on the account screen and when I was done I thought he was gone--but noooooo--I whispered something the Homeland Security people would have had a hey-day with--something to do with --oh--racial-- security harming and well--the company could be sued--unless he is one--but hey! he heard me!

So they fired me. I could have called him any number of other things that would fit him quite well, but I chose one that scared the dickens out of the company. Which is from England by the way.
But if Homeland Security WAS listening to this Middle Eastern, woman hating creeps phone calls--maybe they should look in to him. He works with water pumps for city water tanks. Think about it.

So if anybody is offended and thinks I'm horrible--go with that cause getting fired was exactly what I should have happen to me for such a stupid loss of temper.

But nobody has called me names in weeks and I finally feel clean.

I'll live.
And I swear if my power gets turned off I won't swear at the woman who answers the phone. In fact she may even think I'm nuts--I'll be laughing.

Our Halloween

First! NEBRASKA GAVE ONE ELECTORAL VOTE TO OBAMA! HISTORY IS MADE IN MIDDLE AMERICA!

Now--the girls decorated for Halloween and they had a great time at a dance and even going to get candy door to door (I've told them they are too old, but the teens here all still go door to door). I thought they looked darling. Some thought they were too sexy. I guess I think of the costumes as being like their dance costumes--only better.

Headless pumpkin man is made from my foot surgery shoes and hubbys old work clothes. At night the pumpkin head lights up--it is so cool. And the girls put spider webby stuff up and plastic bags filled with crumbled paper to look like ghosts. I'm not a big fan of Halloween, but they had a great time and we had more kids than ever come to the door. I'm a fan of the little ones, though. The little bumble bees and pumpkins and pea in a pod and teddy bears in mom or dad's arms. They have no idea what is going on, but they love the smiles and happy faces looking at them. Of course that is all a baby should see, just happiness and loving adoring faces smiling at them. How I wish I could make that happen for every child. One of those wishes that is too big for my brain and too painful for my heart.

Oh well--the girls looked great. They had a wonderful time and they were good kids. I was proud (Oh and they were on the honor roll again, too).

OBAMA IS PRESIDENT ELECT

Pigs do fly, hell does freeze over and the bear does #$%^ in the woods. A White/Black man is President of the United States. There is a God, at least I think so.

But Nebraska did not pull it out of their--well--it went Republican and my little vote didn't matter.

Oh well, it FEELS like it mattered. I'm happy today. I cried 4 years ago. Sobbed that night. I couldn't believe it 8 years ago and cried then too. Today and last night I laughed. Oprah wept, Jesse Jackson wept, some tv people wept, I laughed. I am elated. I am sky high with the sheer bloody joy of it. America is not the racist, war mongering, money only belongs to the rich and screw the poor and hard working every man. Nor are we the joke Sara Palin and John McCain tried to make out we were characterizations, jokes, I felt, to them and it was belittling to be called Joe the Plumber ,and Barney the Clown--And only someone smarmy would not see it. They were smarmy. Barrack was knowledgeable, wise, and never talking down even though he could discern the reasoning of mid America.

Still--Nebraska voted Republican. I don't have numbers yet-but I still bet it will be the largest Democratic turn out in decades.
I'm quite proud.

But the cutie pie did not make it as a Democrat Senator. Oh well--try again KLEEB FOR SENATE!!2011

Voting is Fundamental!

My husband and I voted this morning at the elementary school gym three blocks from our house. The women at the desk were all friends of ours from church, piano tunings or the library. In other words we didn't need to tell them who we were or even tell our party affiliation, they all knew. The voting is secret, pencil marks in ovals that get put into a case that is dumped into a box to be counted later. But everybody knew who we voted for. The signs in the yard everyone passes every day told them that. And not one of them was anything but sweet and kind and I am so surprised. The signs stayed put in the yard, even on Halloween. The city has not given us any kind of backhand for daring to be Democrats. Yet.

We went out to eat at a converted train depot and the regulars were having a joke fest. One said he couldn't wait until Pimp My Ride drove up to the White House to Pimp out Air Force One. Everyone laughed. I even laughed --but I was laughing because these farmers and lawn care specialists and insurance salesmen were joking about the outcome--and they expected it to be Obama. Regardless of the snide, low joke-they fully expected him to win. I had my laugh because I expected to hear John MCCain and Sara Palin leading the world jokes but no--it was all Obama.

It made me happy. Nebraska splits the electoral vote . Only Nebraska and Maine do this. The Republicans are all over this wanting to change the law. The Democrats are all over this, wanting the law to stay the same. Nebraska never matters to elections. My vote has never matterd but the one time in 1968. Never. Not since 1968 did we matter. My Democrat vote was as if the Republican wind had taken it and blown it away. (In Colorado too) Our one electoral vote for a Democrat makes a difference this time.My vote makes a difference. I hope every one capable makes their vote count. Aren't we lucky? We were born here.

I pray it really does make a difference.

Blog Blog Blog

Having a blog can make you feel guilty for living such a mundane life. Yesterday was about as mundane as it could get.I got up.I got a latte at Jax's. I went to work. I pissed off somebody about their bill. I made someone bless me about their bill. I went to Culver's and had a deep fat fried everything.I went home. The girls were gone, one working, one with her friend. Phil was watching TV and no one had fed the cats or cleaned the cat box or done the dishes or ironed or vacuumed or picked up or cooked or anything at all. So I went to bed. Go with the flow.

I should have titled this Blah Blah Blah.

There is a web site call Second Life. You can go there and make an avatar.A cartoon person you want to be. You can pick your body, eyes, hair,career or lack there of, fame and fortune are all chosen by you. But then you have to pay for it with their money and to pay for their money you have to use real money so your avatar becomes just another bill in your boring life. You may become a rock star or porno Queen or a fashion fiend in your Second life, but your first life is paying for it. You have to pay rent or buy land and then pay to build on it and you have to pay for clothes and everything else. I'm appalled. I'd call that place God's way of saying you have either way too much money or way to little life. Even my mundane life only costs what I earn, why on earth would I want to pay for another life as well? Should anyone actually read this--I'd be interested to know what you think about an avatar, real money buying fake money and true life versus Second Life.
PS--the only thing I really loved about that site was the scenery--like out of that Robin Williams movie where his wife committed suicide and he went to her hell to put her back in their perfect heaven.Can't think of the name of that movie, but wow--the scenery was to die for.

Adventure

Our huge cat, 30 lbs at least, Dockie escaped the house yesterday. Nobody knows how and the when is in doubt but when my husband went out the kitchen door in early evening the big old moving ottoman trundled from between the garage and the funeral home screeching at him and telling him what a lousy owner he is for letting her face the big old world alone. She is good at that. Better than a teenager in whining, meaner than a fishwife shrew at nagging, Dockie the part siamese/part puma had an adventure and she wasn't going to let us forget it. She threw up. A lot. Then she got on the bed this morning-only the cat god knows how-and threw up on the quilt. Then she curled up in a ball on the floor right where hubby puts his feet down so he'd step on her when he got up and she could complain some more.

Sounds like some people I know.

Green Green Green

Driving in to work is actually a pleasure. I drive about 12 miles, most of it at 65 miles per hour.It took longer to get to my job in Denver that was only 5 miles away but start and stop and 35 mph. I drive along with a view of the Bluffs that is the best you can get and the farmland that is -thanks to irrigation-the best you can get. When I lived here as a kid the entire end of the state was brown. Just brown. There was cattle, and some wheat and beans along the river, and oil and missle silos, but green seldom happened except in the little towns. Of course when I lived here there was no interstate so eveyone had to drive thorough the beautiful little green towns and get that wonderful feeling of restful green between brown.

When irrigation came-actually the year I graduated from high school-it changed everything. I used to fly over Nebraska a lot and I watched from the air the round circles of green show up that had never been there before-a central pedestal going around in a circle-wasted a lot of ground between circles-but stunning from the air. Nobody does circle here anymore-far more advanced. The valley in front of the Bluffs is green green green.

And every year the water board struggles to get enough water for everybody.

Beautiful

This is a stunning time in Western Nebraska--I'm crazy for the wonderful fulsome air crisp yet heavy, and the general sense of everything on the ground putting forth it's best last effort and flowers and grass and fields and lawns are dressed to the fullest blowsy overdone sexy woman mother earth hues.

In spite of ethanol ruining the vast magnificent 8 ft tall sunflower fields, volunteer sunflowers are in bloom everywhere. Alongside all roads, in cracks of tar and cement-they follow the sun and give off an aroma that can only be called "birdseed sunflower yellow". There are low lying corn fields with dew clouds hanging over them and the few cottonwood trees that follow the Platte look like elegant floating plants in a massive pond of white mist. The Bluffs which look like a city skyline needing only lights to make it so loom into sky so incredibly blue you can't believe you can't find that color at a paint store.

In spite of Republicans everywhere--Nebraska is beautiful.

Really--really SPITE

Life Changes

At work I take calls all day from people in Texas--good thing they don't read this because they think I'm "North Of Dallas" which --technically and realistically-- I am--a long way North of Dallas. This week the calls have been heartbreaking. Their lives have disappeared.Where there was a home and trees and flowers and memories there is now timber and iron looking like jackstraws and pick up sticks.But all the tears I'm hearing are getting to me. I cried when I got home yesterday. It is so horrible to hear it in the context I hear it. They are desperate and I am only slightly able to help (I do all I am allowed).Today an invalid woman was telling me how they thanked God thier power was only off for 4 days.And following that call a woman called from another state to say to cancel their accounts their house in Galveston doesn't exist anymore. They had beach home. Now there is just beach.

It makes my worries so tend-able. So easy--so who are you kidding wih this list of piddly crap?God has BIG THINGS TO TAKE CARE OF!

I wonder if Rappers and football players ever make that realization?

God has bigger things, he may take care of birds in the field and the lilies but the real thing about that is birds take care of themselves and flowers have gardeners and his time is spent on bigger needs.We should be able to handle things ourselves.

I'm sure someone will disagree, but no one will see this--so screw 'em.

Taking a deep breath

I have a new job. I really wanted this job.I have applied many times to this place over the last three years and finally got the call, did the training on the computer and had my first two weeks answering calls. Now--why the hell did I want this job? Oh--money and insurance and getting out of the house and feeling better and the girls are older and and and---I'm exhausted and I've already got a cold and oh man, why did I want this job anyway.

I can do this job--although the next six weeks are 6:30 am to 3:30 pm--deep breath-- and I'm a far happier person at 3:30 pm until 11 pm but that is my schedule. I have to get up at 5am. I can't even see at 5 am. I can't even feel my body at 5am. Oh well. I've already had a ball spending my first couple of paychecks.

I have some great character names, and great titles for books, I just can't actually sit down and write them yet--a few more months actually working at a job ought to get me over that crap though. I haven't been to church in 6 weeks because I've been too exhausted. I haven't done anything other than iron and read in the last six weeks. I've taken massive amounts of vitamins but I'm really tired.

I want to go to the Neb Democrats meeting Sunday--I went to the convention and it was great. I'm worried to death about the Sarah Palin out of left field choice--he only did that because Obama didn't choose Hillary and while I cringed at Obama's choice I thought he --Biden--was at least the same calibre as the rich Mormon McCain was sure to choose--and then McCain chooses this --flake. BUT She's A WOMAN! What part of A BLACK AND A WOMAN TICKET BEING A CAN'T LOSE TICKET DID OBAMA NOT UNDERSTAND?

Locally--Scott Kleeb is running for Senate and he is a powerful speaker and has wonderful ideas and he's a HUNK. Oops--I mean he will be a great benefit to our farming community since he grew up on a farm here and is a HUNK. Oops.I hate saying such sexist things really--but on my--he is a hunk. I have an Obama tee shirt (the TIME cover) and a Kleeb tee shirt. And Obama signs and Kleeb signs I'll put in the window on voting day but not sooner--this is not a very kind place to democrats.

I've got to make hundreds of Christmas cards again--and I only have after work time to do it and Phil wants the dining room table taken down so we can put a Grand Piano in the dining room to sell--oh well. I'll make them on the bed if I have too--a little glitter in bed can't hurt. (Glue maybe--but not glitter,surely).

I know no one is looking at these, but it makes me feel all warm to know I actually had the time to sit down and write it.

I've read some wonderful books THE GUERNSEY LITERARY AND POTATO PEEL PIE SOCIETY is delicious love story in every way, and then THE LITTLE BOOK which took the author since 1974 to write (thereby giving hope to all writers who say 'one of these days') is a gem of social comment for this day and age only it takes place mostly in 1900's Vienna. A time travel that makes me love that genre even more. And lots of good mysteries and one about Mary Magdalene that made me laugh and think (okay--it's not a mystery-but a fictionalized account that says Mary became a boy and was the Apostle John actually --too too fun).

I didn't make my church group meeting--I was too sick--so I've been elected President again.
They never learn

OH! I forgot--we did take a Saturday to make a small excursion to the Agate Fossil Beds National Park! It was so absolutely wonderful--these coil, spiral shaped things they found that one man thought were some pre history tree roots but ended up being the holes of prehistoric prarie dogs--wild! And the bones--fossils--just laying there in the dirt! And we got a cookbook at the gift shop and I started reading it only to find out it was written by the woman who wrote NOTHING TO DO BUT STAY and THE WEDDING DRESS which I have on my book shelves! It is Pioneer cooking--wonderful stuff--I actually found out the beef stew I make is the pioneer Irish Stew--right down to putting the meat in a paper bag to shake with flour and seasoning!

Okay--long enough--especially since no one reads this anyway.

Readers Digest Version Of Summer

Annie was chosen to make a trip with a band to Europe next summer and she got a good job and begged for money from people and it looks like she'll be able to come up with the $6000+ FOR THE TRIP.
Alyssa is jealous, won't even try to get a job and manages to get money out of friends and Annie all the time. I'm truly surprised--I really thought the oldest would work and save money and the youngest would never make it. I'm agog.
They didn't go swimming much--teenagers get so blase--or is it just stupid?
Phil was sick most of the summer,and I finally--FINALLY--got a full time job just as school starts.

Life is good
but not perfect.