I think this is it

I have loved blogging. I have met wonderful people, both virtually and physically. Actually, I think that my blogroll may have saved me during some very troubling times. I have found that the ability to write about what is going on inside me has been very healing. Then, the kindness and advice from the good people that have commented has often been a lifeline for me. It is pretty ironic that I got to blogging by following my Mr. What-if here, who is on most of your blogrolls, in fact. He's gone, and you all saved me. Life's ironies continue to amaze me.





I'd like to apologize for the depressing nature of my recent posts. I wish I could say I'll do better, but I think it will be a while before things brighten up.





Recently I posted about how I'm going to be completely alone on Thanksgiving. As many people may have predicted, it has caused a ridiculous family uproar. Somehow, my being sad that I will be alone, me venting about all of the childhood baggage that it stirred up inside me, and my supposedly twisted perception of the past created a family hoopla. My sister-in-law now thinks I don't like her. My brother is "keeping his distance" (a wonderful solution - abandon your sister who has abandonment issues), and my niece (and perhaps my sister, Doad) feel caught in the middle of the mess.





So, I opened my heart and soul up, allowed my family so peak inside, and I am now the family pariah. Fuck.





I've made this mistake over and over in my life, so why am I surprised?





Anyway, between my family rejecting me, the County is continuing to breathe down my neck, my not being able to find a job (more on that in a moment)... even I'm sick of my drama. I'm embarrassed to blog about my life, it is just such a freaking mess. I feel pathetic, and I don't do pathetic very well.





My kids continue to amaze me with their strength, their loving nature, their resilience, and brilliance. I have been blessed. The one and only dream I had as a child was to grow up, have a few kids, and a white picket fence type family. Now that I'm all grown up I have learned that the white picket fence type family is a tough one, but I got the kids. In the end, they are the dream come true. Thank God for them. If not for them, I don't know how I'd have the conviction to move forward.





On the job front, well... nothing. This is tough for a woman that used to measure her self worth by the number of promotions she earned and the dollars she brought home to spend. I never dreamed getting back to work would be so difficult. I applied for a cashier position at the local beverage establishment. I figured it would get me out there, and the discount on beverages would be a nice (and likely valuable, given my volume) perk. I figured they would be thrilled to have someone of my caliber. Wrong. First, the establishment eliminated me from the candidate pool just from reading my application (over qualified). Next, I walked in and I talked the manager into giving me an interview - just for holiday staff / part-time. I interviewed the next day with the wine manager. She made it sound like it was a done deal - just fill out the paperwork, they'd send it to the Home Office, and I would be called to get started. Guess what? They haven't called me back! I'm going to follow up, of course; as soon as I know I have the emotional strength to handle rejection, in case it comes to that. Honestly, I'm not sure I can take anymore rejection.





I blew off the County hearing regarding the problems on my property. I sent them a letter, told them I'm not healthy, I have no money for representation or property modifications, and that I was throwing myself on the mercy of the court when it comes to that. They threaten me with fines of $750 per day (since August 2007) and criminal charges. All for a wall that saved my neighbor's home from flood damage back in 2007. Figure that one out! Then, last week, that same neighbors' kid had a teen party where a gun was fired! My kids were outside! Holy crap! That wall may have to come down, but it will be over my dead body. It may have saved one of my kids or one of my animals from a stray bullet.





Freaking stupid desert rat people. This isn't the God Damned Wild West. Put your f'ing weed away and clean up over there. Shit.





I was starting to cope with all of this better and better, though. I realized that I was feeling worse and worse, so I got some help from my doctor. It worked! I was working on projects again, finishing up some loose ends on old stuff mostly. I had energy. I was moving forward and starting to feel better. I checked out how close I am to qualifying to take the CPA exam. I'm only 6 credits away, and I may even be able to replace the requirement with years of work experience! I figure there is always a market for bean counters, even though I thought those days were behind me. How could an MBA with a CPA not get a job that will support a family with three kids in college, right?





Then it all fell into pieces. I found out that my sister-in-law was devastated by my blog post and that my brother was not speaking with me. I find it almost amusing that I'm going to be completely alone on Thanksgiving, my brother's family will together, surrounded by family and friends, and I'm the bad guy because I'm feel sad. WTF? So, for survival purposes, I've decided that I'd rather be alone on Thanksgiving and make myself feel good about it, than have a battle with other people about who is the bigger victim. Shit, how stupid. The bigger victim? There's a role no one should want to fight for! So they win. I'm the shithead and they are my victims. Another option: It's all my dead Mom's fault. There. Done.





Here's what my life feels like. It feels like I'm a rat in a maze. I run down one path and hit a wall. I get back up, I turn, brush off, and run another direction. Walls, I keep hitting walls. Each time I hit one I injure myself a bit more. I'm running out of energy and I'm limping along. Fucking maze. I just want out of the fucking maze.





I've decided that I had better not blog anymore. I probably put myself out there too much. I do that all the time. I need to learn from my mistakes and stop letting people see so much of what is inside of me.





I can not stop reading your blogs, though. You are my friends. With few exceptions, my only friends. (God, I really am pathetic, huh?). I'll read and I'll comment on your blogs, if you don't mind. I just need to close up shop until I can post about my happy life and my new job. Otherwise this blog is just too depressing for all of us.





Thanks for reading, thanks for the comments, thanks for the support, thanks for the memories, and thanks to all that have had me on your blogroll. It has been an honor, and a fabulous lifeline.





Email me any time. It would be great to hear from you. Bubblesmail@qwest.net





Bye.





XXXO

On a lighter note

I didn't want to give the balloon family any more attention than they already have, but some things are just so funny you need to see them again.



I rarely watch YouTube videos, but the other day I wanted to see the 'Balloon Boy' interview from CNN again. I had seen it live, but wanted to see it again, just to examine the details with a hindsight perspective. I had a good laugh when I found the video, but it wasn't the video as much as it was several of the comments. There are so many funny and clever people out there!

Here's the video, which I know you must have seen, but it is worth checking out again - it's short. I particularly like :40 - :47, where the whole thing caves in, dad says, "Maaann", which must have scared that kid to death, and it stresses someone in the family so much that they soil their pants, or so it sounds...




My favorite comment from YouTube viewers was:



"Boy, his brothers Pigeon and Woodpecker must have been embarrassed!"



When I saw this video the first time I remember actually feeling embarrassed for them. Earlier in the day I expressed to one of the Things that it seemed a little "off" to me. I decided that I must be the world's biggest cynic, felt bad that I was so cynical, and continued watching. Then the interview. Hahahahahaha! Can you believe that those people actually thought they could count on their kids to pull that off? I mean, the whole thing is batshit crazy anyway, but to actually think that they could count on the Bird Boys to hold it together? Seriously?

It's great to have an 11 year old boy around. When the interview was live I called Thing 3 in the room, rewound the DVR, and showed it to him. Of course, Thing 3, an 11 year old boy, heard the fart above all else!



I can't help thinking of the wisdom my father shared with me. My dad was an auditor a good portion of his career. He caught a lot of people that thought they were smart enough to get away with being sneaky. My dad learned a lot from his work. He used to say that if you are going to do something sneaky there are a couple of rules:



First, always do it alone. When more than one person does something sneaky, the other person can be depended on to roll when times get tough. Count on it.



Second, he said that if you are going to steal something, make sure that it is BIG, because when you get caught it better have been worth it, the humiliation is the same either way.



Seems the balloon family could have used some of my dad's perspective. Nah... something tells me that you couldn't tell Balloon Dad anything. I'll bet he knows it all.

Carnage, regrets, and lessons

The other night I was watching TV and sipping a cold one, or maybe it was a glass of wine... I don't know. Thing 3 was playing computer or video games in his room, and the other Things were at swim practice.

I heard a scream outside, so I did what any mother would do, I yelled to my youngest child and told him that he better get out and close in the chickens because I heard something.

Thing 3: "What did you hear?"

Me, "I dunno, a scream I think."

Thing 3: "A scream?"

Me: "Yeah, you better check it out."

See, I'm a prime candidate for mother of the year, don't you think?

A few minutes later Thing 3 runs in the house with a pool cue stick in his hand.

"Mom, Mom, Mom, there are dead chickens everywhere! I saw something with glowing eyes that looked like a cat."

"Shit", says mom.

"Could be a bobcat", I theorized.

Thing 3 handed me a weapon, the second pool cue, and we both went out. Mind you, these are not full size sticks, they are for the mini table we got for Thing 3 last Christmas.

Outside it was awful. There were feathers and dying birds everywhere. It was heartbreaking. Nice, young, productive hens in their prime, laying there, some of them still breathing, some of them reflexively moving. Sickening.

I went into the coop where the damage was done. There were two birds in there that looked like they might be dead. I picked up one and it screamed in pain. It violently tried to get away from me. I put her into a nesting box and wondered if she would be alive in the morning. There was another bird in similar condition which I decided to leave alone. They were in shock. All the other birds were extremely quiet and sitting up on roosting poles.

It was dark out there, too. We had one flashlight and Thing 3 was walking around looking at the damage. He called me over.

"Mom, look."

Thing 3 was standing about 10 feet from the old trampoline. The trampoline has been decimated by the Arizona sun and needs to be taken apart and disposed of. It used to have a net enclosure, so it has tall poles that extend high in the air that were to support the enclosure. On top of one of the poles there was a great horned owl perched, watching us.

Whoa. Creeeeeepy! Creepy, yet amazing and magnificent. It was as if he was deciding if he should defend his kill, or as if he was proud that he did so much damage. He wasn't the least bit intimidated and he was staring right back at us.

Thing 3 has a temper, like his mom, and he was mad about his chickens, so he made a mean sound like an angry cat. With that, the owl turned and flew away. I would have liked to look him over a little longer... but at least we knew hoo did the damage. (heh, heh, sorry about that.)

The owl was HUGE! It was at least two feet tall, and when it flew its wing span had to be three feet wide! As I thought about it, we were probably lucky to get a good view of him so close.

Then our clean up began. I couldn't stand the thought of the predators returning and scavengers coming. The poor birds had been through enough terror for the night.

I found one glove in the darkness. I grabbed an empty feed bag from the trash and began collecting the dead. A couple of times I found birds that were still alive, so I picked them up by the head and spun them around a few times to make sure their necks were broken. Believe me, I didn't enjoy this. I was operating like a machine. I tried to not think, just do. I didn't want them to suffer any more, that's all.

In all we lost seven birds. One of them was Gimpy, which was a bit of a blessing because she had a hard life. The other birds had not allowed her to eat or drink, so she had to sneak for meals and water when the other birds were out foraging.

Carrying the bag to the garbage was hard. The bag was heavy and I could feel and hear movements in the bag. I even stopped and dumped the birds out to make sure that there wasn't a live bird in there. Best as I could tell, the movements were reflexive.

I carried the bag to the trash, threw it in, and walked into the house. I felt shell shocked.

Thing 3 felt bad. He felt responsible because he is supposed to go out and close them in when it is getting dark. As time has passed we have been more and more lax about securing them. This time we paid the price. I felt sick to my stomach and didn't care to watch TV or anything. Ugh.

I told Thing 3 that what is done is done. Regret and guilt are futile. All that we can do when something we do, or don't do, causes damage is to move ahead and learn from our mistakes. Good advice for any regret, isn't it? What point is there to feel guilty and regret? It serves no purpose unless it brings a lesson and that we learn.

I told Thing 3 that we needed to learn. I was telling myself as much as telling him. We needed to remember that our chickens are helpless creatures and that they depend on us to keep them safe. My intent was not to make Thing 3 feel guilty, but to say aloud what we all needed to learn from our "pain" and regrets. I also told him that we were probably lucky that we got to see such an amazing creature, the great horned owl, so close. Because, even in the worst of circumstances, isn't there something good that comes of it, even if it doesn't feel good?

We spent the rest of the evening researching great horned owls. We learned a lot.

The next day we discoverd that the screaming bird in the coop was alive. She appears to have a broken leg.

That was not the only carnage last week. I'll share that another time.

Victimizing victims. It is the American way.

I have a Masters in Business Administration. I was a Business undergraduate specializing in Finance. I worked in the private sector for my entire career - with over 15 years of Corporate America / For Profit under my belt.


So I'm no softy. I understand that cold, hard business decisions that need to be made sometimes. Sometimes the sales just aren't there. There's no demand, so there's no need for the labor and the material to produce and you cut back, and you need to lay off workers. It sucks.

I've never worked in the insurance industry, but as a Finance professional I understand the shared risk concept. People all pay in and the pool of funds collected is theoretically used to cover the needs / losses of the participants in the plan. Actuaries figure out the right amount to charge to cover the estimated risks. The pool should always be able to pay if the funds are managed properly and the underlying assumptions made by the actuaries were based on reasonable assumptions and good data.

Then, in theory, if an insurance company is for profit, they need to manage the whole thing so that they can take the profit they want out of the mix.

AHHHH... there is the rub.

Profit is not a bad thing. Profit is the reward for superior work. In the insurance industry superior work means that the people that paid you premiums got covered when they had a loss. Manage your data, your assumptions, and your business processes properly and your reward is a profit. Profit is good. If you earn it, profit is good.

Earn it? That means that if you do what your business model says you do, you have earned it. However, if you collect money from people after picking and choosing your customers, then turn away customers, and eliminate coverage for people that paid you when they were not experiencing losses...because they started having losses, then you are NOT doing your job. The business model is all about understanding risks and applying statistics to determine fair premiums. The job isn't about avoiding losses, it's about determining the right premiums.

If you are selling insurance and not protecting your customers when they experience loss; and you are not doing your job, and you enjoy a nice profit, then you are stealing. You are a crook. Sadly, the United States health insurance companies are crooked.

Not long ago, while I was seeking medical coverage in the private market, I had the humiliating and depressing experience of being a middle aged woman seeking medical insurance. As if the insane price for coverage was not humiliating enough, the process of obtaining coverage was worse.

The insurance company asked me to have my doctor respond to them with answers to a couple of questions from my application. I expected the customary one year waiver on a couple of things, but in general I didn't think it would be a problem.

Wrong.

The idiot office manager in the doctor's office didn't read my letter to the doctor. She saw the insurance form, pressed a couple of buttons, and my ENTIRE MEDICAL RECORD was electronically sent to the insurance company. If she had read the letter, the doctor was supposed to answer three simple questions with the truth - nothing more. My letter to the doctor told the doctor what to say, which was the truthful answer to the questions. I was a new patient and I wanted to remind her what I had told her, so I wrote the letter to leave no room for error. Sadly, the idiot in the office chose to ignore the cover letter, which wasn't addressed to her in the first place.

This is when I learned about HIPAA. The sad truth I learned about HIPAA is that it has no teeth whatsoever and that it's intentions when implemented were perfect, the policy never delivered on the enforcement side. ugh.

The insurance company rejected me, citing about TEN conditions that I didn't have.

It took months for me to resolve the situation. My medical records had tons of details that were misused by the insurance company. My doctor had documented everything we talked about, including suppositions, possibilities, maybes, and stuff to watch. There were no diagnoses and no treatments for of the items, except the items that they asked about. I had not withheld information and had disclosed the complete truth about anything that was diagnosed and required treatment.

It didn't matter. The insurance company said, "They are in your medical records, and we only allow three waivers."

I said, "But those were not diagnoses. They were discussion notes. You weren't even supposed to get that."

Well we did get it, and we can use it. You can not have coverage.", was the reply.

The doctor called and talked to them personally. It didn't matter. She was going to blow me off, but I scheduled a meeting. While I had become painfully aware that there were no teeth in HIPAA, and I had failed to find even ONE lawyer that was interested in helping me in civil court, I implied to the doctor that I had a case for civil court. We developed an action plan.

She took me into an examination room and we talked about each of the items in the file. For each item she asked me specific questions and had me perform specific maneuvers. For example, we had talked about the possibility of carpel tunnel syndrome that flares up for me from time to time. However, since I had no symptoms either time she saw me, and I could perform the physical movement that would indicate that I do not have carpel tunnel syndrome, she documented the test and the conclusion: no carpel tunnel syndrome - which is true, I've never been treated for it, nor been to the doctor for it. I had simply mentioned that from time to time ...

Another example: I had asked her if I should get a DEXA (bone density study) to use as a baseline. I had no symptoms of osteoporosis, but the baseline would need to be done within the next couple of years anyway, and the coverage I had from Mr. Ex was really good, so I asked to get it done a couple of years early. When the insurance company saw that the test had been performed they decided that I was likely a high risk. Never mind that the results of the scan indicated that I have the bones of a 25 year old!! The insurance company let that one go after I argued it, but it was on the original rejection letter.

Long story, almost finished, the insurance company received a new version of the medical records and rescinded their rejections. By the time they made this decision I had secured coverage elsewhere and told them to go to hell.

Ironically, the company that I secured coverage from back then has since left the Arizona market and the original company that rejected me picked up their customers... and raised their rates over 10%. . Blue Cross Blue Shield is the company. Asshats.

So I'm no victim. I won my battle, I guess. I pay insane premiums for catastrophe coverage, but I do it to protect my assets for my children. My children are covered by a plan provided by their father's employer. I have the knowledge and skills necessary to fight with the crooks and bullies that run the health insurance racket, and while I won't call myself a winner, I'll say that I am not a victim.

But what about the people that don't have the skills or knowledge? What about people that just need to be able to take care of themselves and their dependents?

>Check out this short and oh, so nauseating article.

>How can anyone know that, when left to operate without legislation, the insurance crooks consider being a battered woman a "preexisting condition", and still think that there isn't a need to correct the health insurance business model and its abuses? Without a public option that provides real market competition and coverage that doesn't victimize people, the insurance crooks will continue to abuse their 'for profit' business model - simply because they can. They have proven this to us.

I'm wondering, what are you thinking?

I'm wondering if our blogospere is closing in on us? Is it coming to a close?

Facebook seems the new rage. I have not yet embraced it - I dont' know why, really. I think it means something. Facebook is not so deep. Not so introspective. Perhaps more "normal"?

Is this chapter coming to a close?

What do you all think? I don't have many readers any more, but I still want to know!

I Got Noth'in to Bitch About

Woo Hoo!

The baby got over my bitterness. Getting it out really helped - so thanks.

Now I'm focusing on each day. I've been swimming again. I'm planning a bathroom remodel. I'm working on some major financial overhaul strategies. I sure hope the financial stuff works out. That would be sweet.

On the downside; cause damn it, downsides won't go away, the County Flood Control people, that came here to bother me in August 2007, decided to rear their ugly heads again. And trust me, if you used to read my blog in the old days, you might remember how ugly those flood control people are. Ugh.

I was served with notice that threatened me with being charged with a class 2 misdemeanor, punishable by a maximum penalty of $750 per day for every day the violation has occurred. Uh, that's since 2007.

I have the right to go to a hearing. I'll go. I'll make my case, which is basic. The flood control people object to a wall I put in between my neighbors house and me. I put the wall in, at considerable expense, with the neighbor's permission, without a permit. They have every right to have an issue with this. On the other hand, the wall was built without any formal reference to any lot lines. We have no idea if the wall in on my property, or the neighbor's property. If they can prove that it is on my lot, I'll take it down. Otherwise, it is the neighbor's problem - technically, anyway.

What do I have to lose anyway? My house is worth about what I owe on it... I could just pick up and walk. But I won't. That's now who I am, that's just not smart, anyway. I'll stick it out - unless...

I'm thinking I'll take a turnip to the hearing. When they start talking about the fines, I'll toss the turnip to them... and if they can squeeze some blood out of it, I'll start selling myself for cash. Otherwise, I'll just sit here and raise my kids. And when I'm done, or there's no hope for recovering, I'll make another decision.

So I got noth'in to bitch about. Crap just keeps flowing down the hill at me, but I plan to keep on handling it. I'll bitch sometimes, but in general, my problems are annoying -- but small. And for that I am grateful.

Holiday bitters so early this year?

I'm starting my holiday pitty party early so that it will be over before it ruins my holidays completely. I found out recently that Thanksgiving is going to be a bust for me.

Mr. Ex is taking the kids (with his mother, again, because she pays for a lot of it) skiing in Utah. It was Thing 1's idea, and I think it is great that they spend time with their dad.

Thanksgiving has always been a holiday that I remember spending with my brother and his family. That was because it was the only holiday they would ever share with us after my brother married, and I was young - maybe 7 or 8 years old. Because my sister-in-law's mother was much older than my parents, my sister-in-law pretty much made it clear that Christmas with our family was OUT of the picture. The reason I always heard was that her mom wouldn't live as long as my parents would. So, after my brother married I remember only one Christmas that we ever had as a complete family again. But our side got Thanksgiving. It was something, anyway.

So every year we had turkey, usually prepared by my mom. It meant a great deal to her, especially since in her young adult life she was the hub for family holidays, especially Christmas. She and her sister would work together and make every Christmas a big family deal. I know those days meant a lot to mom. Her sister was her best friend and the two of them made family Christmas special.

Sadly, my mom's sister, and her best friend, died when she was 32 years young. Not long after that my brother married, and mixed in there somewhere my sister ran away from home at 16. For mom Christmas just was never the same. Thus, it was never the same for me, either. Not that it was bad, but it was never the same as before. Mom missed her son and expressed it, and I'm sure she missed her sister, which she did not express, and my sister was rarely around, either. Thanksgiving was the big one, and Christmas we went through he motions, pretty much. As a kid I felt it the most, I think. The others were all older and had their memories, but they were so, so faint for me. For me it was a real loss, and the principal reason I was given was about was my sister-in-law's mother and her old age.

So when the kids decided to leave me for Thanksgiving I thought it wouldn't be a big deal at all. I figured I'd still go to my brother's house like we have our traditional Thanksgiving, like every year since we moved here, and most years I can ever remember.

Wrong.

I found out last weekend, when I went out with my niece, that their entire family is leaving for the holiday. Apparently my sister-in-law's mother, the one that was not going to be around as long as my parents (not), is having her 100th birthday celebration that weekend.

Special. Very f'ing special.

Forgive my bitterness, please. My sister in law actually stops by here from time to time, and I hope she will forgive me, too. But I'm bitter. I'm God Damned human, I have feelings, and I feel bitter.

We gave up family Christmas because this woman was not going to out live my parents. Well, that assumption was wrong. She did. She out lived my parents. My parents are gone, she is here, and I still feel like my holidays are being fucked with.

We created a Thanksgiving tradition. But not this year, because she is here and she's 100 years old. Fucking ironic, isn't it?

So I'm having my pitty party a little early this year so that by the time the holidays roll around I can enjoy myself. I'll do something. But for now I'm feeling that old familiar feeling of abandonment. I know it isn't about me, I know it isn't personally about me, but I know how I feel. Fucking abandonment. I hate it. I'm pissed off, and I'm bitter.

My kids leaving is one thing. I expect that. But the other stuff feels like shit - probably because it is emotional crap leftover from childhood and stirring that shit up just isn't worth it. Why did this have to happen to rub my nose in all of that again? Ugh. You have no idea how I could go on and on here - that's how deep the cut feels.

I'll be fine by Thanksgiving, though. I'll be all alone here in the stupid desert. Maybe I'll go to the shelter and serve food to the homeless. I hear a good way to deal with bad feelings is to be of service.

One thing I will NOT do is go out for dinner. Mr. Ex and I did that one year for some reason and I remember it being very, very depressing. I'd rather eat an Oscar Meyer turkey sandwich!

Wish me luck neutralizing these bitters. Any suggestions are welcome!

Legacies

My heart is aching for one of my favorite bloggers today, Kirby. Kirby's mom passed away, and I know for certain how much that hurts. It made me reflect on my mom's death back in 2006. I've blogged about it so many times. I guess when something so profound happens in your life it marks you. It stays forever.

I was digging through my heart searching for words to express my condolences to Kirby... which is a fruitless effort, since there's nothing anyone can say to someone that has lost a loved one that will ease their pain. It made me think about my grandma. I learned so much from her life and her death.

You may be expecting a tribute here. If you are, you are in for a surprise.

First, a little background.

My biological paternal grandmother died when my dad was only 9 years old. My dad was raised by a combination of his father and his aunt. Back in the late 1930's there were minimal expectations from a single dad, and my grandpa lived his life accordingly. Don't get me wrong, I don't blame him or harbor ill feelings toward him, but I know that he didn't always make my dad a priority. My dad never talked about his childhood unless he was speaking about his uncles and cousins the visited on the family farm in Missouri. I imagine that dad didn't like to think about his childhood much, but that he had shared his deep feelings with mom in private moments. So I learned about his childhood from my mom. Mom told me about how grandpa occasionally left my dad in the local cafe, and paid the waitress to keep an eye on him when he went to gamble. She told me how he could describe the undersides of the tables in vivid detail. She said my dad had very faint memories of his mom saying that some day they might go live without his dad. Who knows if she would really have ever left grandpa. She died of complications from gall bladder surgery.

My grandpa did his best for the times. He worked in Hawaii in the shipyards, he raised chickens in the basement at some point (I don't know why the basement, but I remember there was a reason), he became a barber at some point. Grandpa hung out in taverns, and that is where he met his second wife, and the woman that I always knew as my paternal grandma. Her name was Norma.

Norma was the daughter of a local tavern owner. The tavern was called Bailey's. Maude Bailey was the owner. As I understand it, Maudy was a tough old bird. There was covert gambling in the basement, and she was somewhat a pawn broker or loan shark, too. It was a small town. My maternal grandpa, from the same town, used to say, "That Maude Bailey would steal from a blind man."

I'm not sure exactly how the process went, but grandpa ended up dating Norma. My guess is that he met her at the tavern. They were in their 40's or 50's and Norma was a spinster. She was a rarity for the times as she had established a career for herself as a typesetter at the local newspaper. She actually did that job until she retired in the early 1970's. Norma wasn't a pretty woman, nor was she particularly feminine. She came by her looks honestly, Maudy wasn't a looker, either. Both women were smart and tough, though.

Physical appearance wasn't the only unattractive feature Norma got from Maudy. Norma was a selfish, spoiled brat. The only person on earth that Norma thought was more important than Norma was Norma's brother. It was a weird thing. I think Norma grew up hearing about how wonderful her baby brother was, so it stuck. She spoke of him as if he was a child, even when they were both old, old, old people. And when both my grandpa and her brother became ill at around the same time, Norma chose to put my grandpa in a home so that she could take care of her baby brother at home. Norma worshipped her baby brother until he died an old man, at home, with her. Yeah, it was weird.

After grandpa and Norma's brother died, Norma lived alone. My parents were retired by then, so they would try to provide her with some company and family connection. It wasn't easy. She was an insufferable crank. She bitched about everyone and everything, just as she had her entire life. She rarely had a good thing to say about anyone.

I was born after she and grandpa were married, so Norma liked me. I was the nearest thing that she ever came to having a child or grandchild of her own. Sadly, that only lasted until she stuck her nose into the middle of an argument between Mr. Ex and me. I snapped at her and she never forgot it. I was added to her very long list of enemies.

My mom was probably the only person that Norma didn't have a fight with. The only reason for that was because mom made a promise to herself that she would never do it. Mom refused to argue or fight with Norma about anything. Norma tried hard to pick a fight with mom. She would dig at her and insult her - not constantly, but certainly whenever Norma was in the mood. Mom wouldn't bite. Not ever. Talk about personal victories. That was a fine accomplishment, mom!

In the end Norma "loved" mom. I say "loved" because I'm not sure that "love" is the right word, but it was the only way Norma loved. She was nasty, cantankerous, and greedy. I think what she said when she was dying describes her best. When she was dying she said, "I don't want to die. I don't want to leave my things."

Yeah, Norma had things. Lots of things. She had things from her grandmother, things from her mother, things from the tavern, things she had acquired and even things that were collateral for loans her mom made. She had things and more things. She had china, crystal, silver, collectibles, and more. Her mother and she were talented seamstresses. They did beautiful needlework and quilting. There were hand stitched linens, needlepoint seat cushions, and mahogany furniture that was in mint condition. Everything was in mint condition regardless of its age. Why? Because the woman was a beast! Being in her house was frightening! One false move and she would take your head off.

Norma was selfish with her things, too. After family gatherings she would have someone wash the dishes and dry while she counted the silver. I'd like to think that she was making sure none were thrown out my mistake, but it's hard so say she wasn't making sure none of us took a piece. The silver is a particularly interesting item for me personally, since she gave specific instructions to my mom that I should never get it. I pissed Norma off once, so she didn't want my mom to ever give me the silver.

Norma died. Not surprisingly, she had to leave her things behind.

My poor parents. They had garage sales, they gave stuff to me (including the silver, ha!), mom put stuff in consignment shops... the stuff just wouldn't go away! It still doesn't go away. I have a bunch of it. Well, except for the mahogany dining room set. Mr. Ex wanted that in the divorce. Meh, good riddens!

The big difference with all the 'things' now is that they are not worshipped. Sure, some of the stuff is nice, but it is just stuff. It needs to be stored, displayed, cleaned, packed, moved... so much energy for what? Stuff and things. There have been times when something was broken, and honestly, sometimes it feels like a relief!

What does all this have to do with Kirby, her mom, my mom, etc? Everything.

While searching for something to say to Kirby I reflected a bit. I remembered what I've learned from Norma contrasted with what I learned from my mom - who are both gone. We all leave a mark when we leave this world. We all chose what the nature of that mark will be. Norma left a mark. I didn't hate Norma, but I'll always remember her the way I have described her. She wasn't a happy person. She couldn't give. She couldn't love. She worshipped things. Sad, really. I'm sure it says volumes about how she felt about herself, and I wonder what hell she lived that made her feel that way, but it doesn't really matter does it?

My mom left a different kind of mark, and it sounds like Kirby's mom left one that is similar in nature. When I think of my mom the absolute last thing I think about is "things" or stuff. I don't remember any of the cross words we certainly shared as mother and daughter. I don't think about her personal struggles or any problems she or we had. When I think of mom I feel warmth, unconditional love, and a tinge of hurt in my heart, because I still long for one more laugh, one more hug, one more conversation.

These two women taught me about the nature of legacies. I learned that we chose our legacy every day. Our legacy is reflected in our daily choices and behavior, and if we are lucky enough to have kids, it is likely reflected in some of their behaviors, too. I don't think about my legacy every single day, but I'm glad that, in general, I have a good idea about what I want people to feel when they remember me someday. I sure hope they don't think about my stuff, and if they blog about me, I hope they can say some better stuff than I have said about Norma.

Thanks, Norma; and bigger thanks to you, Mom.

Psychic / Life Coach experience

O.K., so I'm back to being all about me again. As I reviewed the last post there were still and inordinate amount of I's anyway. But hell, blogs can be whatever works for you, right? For me the process of writing is also the process of organizing my thoughts. It works for me.

A couple of Wednesdays ago I went to the psychic / life coach my niece introduced me to. I'm not sure what to think. Unlike my experience with the medium, where the information I heard was specific and extremely on target, the information from this person was vague. It was also difficult to distinguish what was a "reading" vs. what was an opinion or advice.

Not that this surprises me. I'm a believer in stuff we can't see and all that, but I'm also pretty sceptical. I think it is fun to explore this stuff, and it certainly doesn't hurt anything to stop and contemplate what's going on inside yourself and in your life compared to what someone says they "see".

The fundamental message was that there is potential for me to find a job and a future that matches my passions, and other satisfying stuff in my life, but there is something from my past that must die and must be put to rest in order for that to happen.

Yeah, I know. The first thing I thought of was Mr. Ex. As any regular reader knows, I swirl around in negativity about him, and it just isn't healthy (See, I realize it! It's the first step to change, right?) However, when I mentioned the resentment I harbor about Mr. Ex she said, "No, it is much deeper than that."

Ugh. Could it be the pattern of surrounding myself with people that can rely on me, but can not be there for me when I need them? Could it be that I need to stop regularly self medicating to avoid really dealing with my feelings? Could it be that .... Ugh. After the reading I felt sick to my stomach and went home and collapsed in bed for several hours. I continually ask myself if I'm depressed because I want to sleep so much, but I honestly don't think it is depression. It's almost like I'm in a cocoon.

I pondered this for two weeks now - on and off. I haven't obsessed over it, though. I've concluded that life is all about moving forward from one lesson to the next and that this "waiting" thing I've been experiencing has been about me being afraid to get out there in the world. The lessons sometimes hurt. I've isolated myself, probably so that I won't get hurt again or abandoned again - not just by Mr. Ex, but by Mr. Whatif, all the "friends" I had in Connecticut, my old friend from work, and at times throughout my life, even my family members. I need to readjust my approach to relationships in general. I need to stop giving myself with reckless abandon and assuming that others will do the same. I love unconditionally, which I think is a good thing, but I also need to be cautious about who I give to and how much.

The affair, the divorce, the move, mom's death, the flood, the weight gain, the weight loss... I think they were hard lessons designed to show me that I'm strong and capable. That I don't need anyone to be satisfied and happy. Maybe I had to go through all of that so that my future relationships will be healthier and that I won't make the same mistakes again.

I guess I'm on my way. Like the way tides come in and out gradually, my transition to the next phase is happening. I'm aware and I'm ready to see how well I can adjust my own behaviors as I proceed into the future.

Next weekend my niece and I are going to go to a local bar/restaurant that we discovered a couple of weekends ago. It is an upscale Mexican place very near here, and also near (but not inside) a very upscale resort and spa. The margaritas were fantastic. Ironically, she and I were both thinking that place was a good place to go again, but we hadn't talked about it. Part of both or our hesitation was that the place isn't as budget friendly as we both would like. God bless her, my niece called to see if they have any happy hours. Turns out they are just starting one this coming weekend! Woo Hoo!

I'm going to get out with another single woman. How novel of me! I'm going to get out more after that, too.

I feel the change happening. I'm going to finally let go. I think this cocoon is just starting to to transform. Not quickly, but slowly and gracefully.

This NOT an "all about me" post. Thank God

This article about some kids' reaction to Obama's back to school speech really helped me sigh a sigh of relief.

I'm a leadership skills groupie. When I see leadership at its finest, I just have to smile. Obama provided it, and I am grateful.

I'm sickened with the conservative reaction to our President, the freaking leader of the free world. I feel disgusted that there are people out there that think he is out to brainwash kids. Do they really feel that they are that not influential enough in their kids' lives that a speech will undermine their influence? Really? How on earth can a Presidential speech be so bad that you would keep your kids home from school?

Sure, you will keep them home to go to Disneyland, you will keep them home because the need some downtime (hey, totally guilty of this), you will keep them home for a movie premiere, their grandma, or because they weren't ready to ace a test... but the President of the United States and his message? Oh no. No. No. He is, uh, dare I say it? He is an African American that has messages about ... taking responsibility. Sheesh. What ignorance!

I for one would like to thank President Obama for his message. We all could use some support.

I'm a mom. I'm a single mom.

Every day I try my best to inspire my kids to work hard. To take responsibility. To be the best they can be.

The line I walk is a huge challenge as a leader (parent). They know that I will love them unconditionally. I won't stop loving them if they fail. That is the toughest line to walk for a parent. The message: I want you to be responsible. The message: I am here for you because you are my child, we are human, and you deserve respect and acceptance.

Uh, right here is where the world starts to chime in... they might say, "WTF, will your respect and accept (fill in the blank... depending on YOUR the example will vary)?"

My answer? I dunno. I depends on what is in the blank, I suppose. But, in general, I will care for, love, respect, and support my children unconditionally.

Those freaks that need to have it concrete are just ignorant. Their brains can't do complex, so they simplify and make it "simple" enough for their simple minds to process.

For me, as a parent, my children's journey is about them. It is their life.

I will guide and support as much as I am able. I will love, regardless of my agreement with them, unconditionally. Sure, I'll express my disagreement. I'll try to influence. But in the end, I will always agree to disagree on the principle of love.

What is the alternative? Do you reject your kid because they are not what you think they should be?

Then someone would say, "what about if they were college educated and they choose to buy a house in a slum and sit around and drink all day?" (again, fill in the freaking blank)

My answer, "Are they better off if you don't love them?"

Hey, I'm not saying to a co-dependent. I'm not saying to enable. I'm just saying that love and support builds strong bodies and minds.

So thanks, Obama. Thanks for supporting my message to my kids. Thanks for showing them that other adults have had trials and tribulations. Thanks for encouraging my kid to be their best. Thanks for supporting me as a parent. You are a true leader and an inspiration.

Why is it that other Presidents could speak to the children and no one blinked? Their speeches probably delivered the same message! (Albeit, their message was pure fiction because they were privileged and likely did not relate to most of the audience.)

This is the race issue folks. It is the black man getting all uppity and trying to influence our kids. It is ignorance at its best. (or worst)

Thanks Obama. Thanks for your support. Keep going. Just keep going.

Thanks for some fundamental payback for my vote.

Lazy Day

I'm feeling so much better today.

Yesterday was a crappy day, so today I'm taking a big break. I've been snoozing and being lazy all day.

Yesterday's first disappointment was that Thing 3 was not drafted to his old coach's team for fall ball. That might not seem like a big deal, but it is a deal breaker for us. We have had bad coaches, and frankly, I don't have the energy to deal with building a new relationship with a new coach right now. My son doesn't either. The most disappointing part is that my limited social life was linked to the team that didn't draft my son. So that was a bummer.

The second disappointment was related to Mr. Ex's planned visit this weekend. I was a little suspicious when Mr. Ex planned a trip so soon since the last one, but he was in California on business again and planned to stop here on the way back, for the long weekend. Turns out my suspicions were founded. I guess some things never change. At the last minute he surprises the kids with the news that his girlfriend is going to be here with him! He explained that it is a long flight home and he would enjoy the company. Isn't that special? Does he really think the kids want to share their time with their father with her? Furthermore, her presence supports the recent news that they are considering moving here.

The third and final disappointment was that Thing 3 is still struggling getting along with other kids at school. It appears that the school is very willing and interested in helping him, which is good. We haven't had much luck with this subject at the elementary school level. In the past (elementary school) they would tell him to ask for help if someone was egging him on, or picking on him. Then, when he asked for help, usually nothing was done about it. Either the other kid would deny it, or the adult would ignore the request for help by saying, "just stay away from them", which is stupid because the other kids were following my son around, not the reverse. By the end of last year I had grown sick of conversations with teachers and the principal about this subject, since it was all talk and no action. Where's the accountability for the kids that annoy the crap out of someone until that person finally smacks them in the teeth?

Basically, Thing 3 gets extremely annoyed with other kids, they pick up on it and run with it. It results in bullying behaviors - and Thing 3 gets so angry that I've worried it will result in physical violence extreme enough to get him in real trouble. Given the zero tolerance for physical violence at school, Thing 3 could end up in a lot of trouble, even if the assholes he punches are literally asking for it. In fact, some of these idiots do (ask for it). For example, grabbing something that belongs to Thing 3, Thing 3 tells them to give it back, they say "make me"... that sort of bullshit. If Thing 3 "makes them" give him his stuff back by punching them in the nose, Thing 3 is in deep trouble. However, the person that literally asks for it is not held accountable in any way whatsoever! It is such a bunch of crap! Sometimes an ignorant asshole will only learn one way - the well deserved punch in the nose! (Or am I just too old fashioned?)

I truly don't think the problem is with Thing 3's personal attributes. It isn't that he is an easy target - he bathes, he dresses like his peers, he's a very good student, etc. So it isn't that he's a nerd that everyone just picks on. It appears that it is more related to his being very smart, pretty mature in many ways, and easily annoyed with other kids. They see he's annoyed and they enjoy the reactions they get when they annoy him more.

Oy, this is so difficult for a parent. As if our own personal struggles and hurts from growing up aren't painful enough, when you are raising your kids you have to deal with their hurts, too! Ugh.

So there's my pity party excuses for yesterday. I drank a few too many beers last night, stayed up too late, and got it out of my system in a very unhealthy and dysfunctional way. Woo Hoo!

Today seems much easier... it was a half day of school and I've been a lazy ass all day long. My "sinus headache" (aka beer headache) is gone and I may even feel like having a drink or two with my niece tonight. She wants to celebrate a minor victory in her ex-spouse drama... and I can't say that I blame her. Her battles are often tougher than mine.

Have a fabulous weekend, and thanks for stopping by!

Just Thinking...

Ya know what I wish? I wish I wasn't so freaking deep thinking.

It is a tough load to bear folks.

All of my life I have sought someone to hold me and embrace my depth. Someone that might not go there with me, but respect and appreciate that I can, and that I do.

Someone that feels passion, someone that gets it.

When I think about it, and then think about what I settled for in my life, I feel sad.

Check it out. Seriously.

If you can, find this report on PBS and be impressed with the power of the human spirit. Watch the show, if you can.

When I was posting this last night I was interrupted... this interview is really good, even if you can't catch the show. Very inspiring!

Tales of the Albatross

I haven't been doing much in the way of home projects, but as usual, there's always something that needs attention around here. Homes can really be an albatross sometimes.

Back in 2007 I acquired a brand new central air conditioner / heater package unit. It is a pretty $6000 box that sits on my roof and makes it possible to live on the desert. It is a high efficiency unit that was supposed to save me an enormous amount of money... except I put in a pool the same year and the pool pumps ate up the electricity savings of the A/C, and then some.

In spring 2008 I did the responsible thing and had the service guy come and do the "system check" that we are supposed to do each season. As I understand it they are supposed to check the temperature of the air going in, the air coming out, clean the coils, check the current flow... blah, blah, blah. I assumed he did.

In spring 2009 I didn't get around to having the guy come. It's been bothering me, but not enough to call them.

Lately I've noticed that the house is really dusty. Every time I change the filter it is horribly dirty... but that is what I expect on the desert, especially since I have four dogs that roll in the dirt and come in the house to shake it off. I even noticed that there is dirt coming out of the duct work! I don't know if it is related to the dirty coils, but I thought I should check things out.

I don't really know what I'm doing, but I know that the coils are supposed to be cleaned. I have a flat roof and I went up to see if this was something I could figure out. Glad I did.

First of all, the guy that came here last spring didn't do shit. He didn't even take the cover off. He sprayed some cleaner crap up through the louvers and pretended it actually did something - which it did not. When I took the louvers off the coils were a freaking dirt pile.

I thought I could fix it with some no-rinse coil cleaner. No, even with the cover off it was clear that a hose was necessary. Not only that, I pissed off some bees and the next thing I knew I had a bee sting on my chin! Ugh.

I started to feel funny. I had chills, felt shaky, basically felt weird. I figured I'd better get down to the inside and put something on the sting. It hurt like hell. I put some sting stuff on it, a little ice, and decided I had to go back up before it got dark. I made Thing 1 come up and babysit me in case more bees attacked me or I had some allergic reaction... I think I've only been stung once before.

I took the hose up there and rinsed. Oh boy, what a filthy mess. Also, another pissed off bee. It didn't catch me to sting me, but I'm lucky I didn't fall off the edge of the roof running from it!

It got dark before I could put the A/C back together, so tomorrow, assuming the bees leave me the hell alone, I'll clean a little more and put it back together.

I learned what an aluminum spine fin coil is. I learned how to clean one (I guess), and I learned that there may be pissed off bees up there somewhere. Most importantly, I learned that you can't trust anyone to work at your house unless you watch them. Almost every time I hire someone to do something around here I feel disappointed, or else I have to babysit and ask "dumb" questions so that they know I'm paying attention. I ask you, if you have to go up on the roof in the heat to watch someone work so that they actually do something they are supposed to do, why not just do it yourself and save the money?

I'll tell you why, it's a pain in the ass job, bee stings hurt, and I'm sick of being the fix it queen! That's why!

That reminds me of a funny story. I was at my niece's house the other night having some drinks with she a few of her neighbors. One of her neighbors is a plumber - Geno. Geno is a heck of a nice guy. He, and most everyone my niece talks to, knows that I'm handy. I have a reputation, I guess... not sure it is a good thing, but it is what it is. Anyway, I asked Geno for his business card because a water pipe out by the chickens has a leaky joint. I was telling Geno that I can't sweat pipes to save my soul. I've tried and tried and it never works. Then I tried to hire someone to do it for me and two months later it is leaking again. (See, this is an example of me hiring someone to fix something that wasn't fixed right.)

God bless him, Geno says, "I'll teach you. I'll teach you how to sweat pipes. It is just a matter of a few tricks and then it is easy. I'll teach you." Then he went on to explain that it is important to not use old flux, and that the stuff at Home Depot is no good, and that the pipes have to be super clean and dry, etc...

I didn't tell him that I read all that but I'm still not a professional and have had little practice, and that it is hot out there even without a torch in your hand, and that I'm terribly allergic to the ants that come to the leaking water, find me and bite me, then I'm up all night for a week suffering. I didn't want to offend him and tell him that I hate his job and that I don't want to be a plumber... so I said thanks.

See? Not only can I not find anyone to come do the work around here the right way, if I actually try to hire someone that will do the work and do it right, they want to teach me to do it myself!

Albatross. The house is my freaking albatross.

I'm still thankful to have one, though.

Randomness

I wonder if anyone bothers to stop by anymore. I'm such a slack.

If you have stopped by there isn't much new, but I thought I'd get rid of that stupid picture of the solenoid.

School has started. We survived the drama of the first week and a half, getting desirable schedules for the high schoolers, and watching for good signs of the middle schooler adjusting. All seems to be as well as can be expected.

Mr. Ex came for a visit. He had not seen the kids since December. He was on his way from a business trip in California and stopped for a Friday to Monday morning layover. I actually enjoyed a little time to myself. Thing 3, in particular, loves being with his dad, so I love to see him so happy.

The end of Mr. Ex's trip was when the bomb dropped. He told Thing 3 that he and his girlfriend might move here. Ugh. Worse yet, he told Thing 1 that he is thinking about going back to school to study science - he is interested in solar technology. (Never mind that I recommended that 20 years ago...)

Here's the thing. A move to Arizona would mean it is easier to file for modification of the alimony he pays. The interstate thing makes going back to court very expensive and difficult. On top of that, if he cries the poor student song, he would have a reason to get the modification.

How did that son of a bitch find, not one, but TWO women in his life that would support his sorry ass while he pretended to try to grow up? Shit.

I'll take this all one day at a time. He's always likely to open his pie hole and spew bullshit, but less likely to actually pick up his ass and do something that is a big change. On the other hand, if the woman in his life is kicking his ass, he might do something. I speak from first hand experience, of course. My foot still hurts from years of ass kicking. Sheesh.

My finances are a mess. I might actually be a candidate for bailout help. My house is worth the same or less than the first and second mortgages according to the online value estimates, but they don't include all the improvements I worked my ass off doing. At best I have very little equity left. That hurts, considering I justified my staying home and doing the improvements myself by calling myself an "equity builder". Ironic, huh? I could never walk away though. There's no loss until you sell or walk. The market will have to come back, albeit slowly, right?

Still haven't had a job interview, much less an offer. I push hard on the search, then lose steam. Push hard again, then lose steam. My approach to the search always worked when I found jobs for Mr. Ex! WTF? Stupid recession.

The egg business is booming. We get about 3 dozen per day and right now I have no eggs to sell, and my own personal fridge supply is low! Lots of repeat business. My niece says I should raise my price. Right now I charge $3 a dozen. No one has ever complained about the cost, and some people seem surprised it is so low. I dunno. It pays for the feed at this price and I'm never going to get enough for the eggs to make a dent in my finances!

We lost one of our favorite chickens. I've been letting them free range during the day and I think a coyote passed through and got her. She was always a loner and she probably was too close to the wash that passes through the property. RIP Affie.

I never shared the conclusion of my dorky crush on the orthopedic doctor. He is married. (Sigh) I took Raven's advice and asked the receptionist if he had a significant other under the pretense that I wanted to send a gift. I think she saw right through me, but they liked us, so I didn't feel weird.

On the subject of weird, I'm in a weird phase of my life. These kids are getting older and I am fighting for the motivation to do much of anything. Am I depressed? Sometimes, I suppose. But is is different than the blues or the typical funks I have from time to time. It is a melancholy, slow kind of mood. Hmm. Hard to explain.

I'm ready for the next chapter. I've been ready for awhile. But I don't seem to be taking the right steps to get it going. I guess I've been waiting. Just waiting. Hmmm.

So you see, this is why I'm not blogging. I don't seem to have any strong feelings that I can put into enough structure to write anything of interest to me, much less anyone else! I guess I used to talk to my mom when I was pondering. She would listen so well. As it is, I sort of let my thoughts swirl around and I don't have anyone to kick me in the ass and get me get going.

This too shall pass, right? Next week I'm going to see a life coach that has some psychic stuff in her mix of "skills". I met her over the weekend. My niece has known her for awhile and she introduced us. I'm not sure what to expect, but it can't hurt, I suppose. I'll let you know...

Finally, I'm back to swimming laps. It's about time I moved myself around a little more. I lost all that weight but I still need some exercise, that's for sure. I'm heading to the pool right now, as a matter of fact.

Thanks for stopping by!

Why I don't fix stuff for other people

I hate it when I fix stuff that doesn't need fixing. By the way, it happens. If I was doing this for a living I would have to rip people off to stay alive (or in business, anyway).

I never wanted to know what a f'ing solenoid is, you know. Who the fuck cares what a solenoid is?

A couple of years ago I replaced the solenoid in the golf cart. I was following the advice of a golf cart forum on the web. By the time I had made my way into a central electrical junction of the cart, I discovered that the solenoid was probably just fine. It was the wire that went from the solenoid to the key that was bad... oh well, we had a new solenoid anyway - yahoo.

Well, apparently I carry a solenoid curse. Fast forward to today.

After Thing 2 had her accident on the desert (broken arm, etc.) back in March, I discovered that one of the ATV's wouldn't start. It came home from the desert o.k., but it wouldn't start for me to move it. I turned the key and NOTHING. So I decided it was the solenoid. That is what was wrong with the golf cart when it acted the same way, (here's the flaw in my thinking), so I figured that it must be the solenoid again.

I left it sit for six months. I had called a mechanic a few months back from Craig's list to help, but he never showed up. Ugh.

On Monday I decided to go out in the morning (before it was beastly hot) and pull out the solenoid myself. I researched on the web, found diagrams, found a source for a reasonably priced new one, and it arrived in a couple of days.

Today I put it in. It was a pain in the ass. It is hot outside, the part was almost to spec... making it difficult to put in. Difficult, but not impossible.

I charged the battery, installed the battery, and .... NOTHING. Fucking, NOTHING.

Then I realized... as I stood over the machine I realized there was a red switch on the left handlebar. It said "engine" and on the left it said "off" and on the right it said "off", but in the middle it said ... I don't remember... maybe "on".

Yeah, that's right. There's a red switch that turns the fucking engine off, and on if you want.

Are you laughing at me? Seriously. Are you laughing????

Yep, I moved the switch to the middle point, tried the ignition, and yes, it started.

WTF???

The solenoid was fine. It was a switch that no one has ever touched. Apparently when Thing 2's friend brought home the ATV he turned off the switch. Good guy. He was trying to do everything right.

I fixed something that didn't need to be fixed. This is why I don't feel confident fixing things for other people. I'm afraid my ignorance will cost us all time and money.

Ugh. I NEVER EVER wanted to know what a f'ing solenoid was. Actually, I still don't - but I know that wires go in to a solenoid and a lot of wires go out - but basically, I don't give a rat's ass.

Stupid solenoids. Stupid me. I gotta get a job, and find someone that shows up when I need something fixed.

Whoring for a car

Hey, I'm not above begging. We have another driver coming in the family and could use some more wheels. With no job and a 1993 second car that will likely head off to ASU next fall, any path to another set of wheels is worth a try.

Would you consider voting for me in this promotion to get the use of a new Lexus for a year?

Even better, would you consider a link in your blog?

Here's the address for a link or to vote: http://www.drivehs.com/vote/106216 It goes to a page that lets you vote directly. I think earlier in the promotion it made you sign up, but it doesn't do that anymore! (But if you sign up, I'll vote for you!)

Wouldn't it be sweet if we won? If you can help we will be so grateful!

It's hot, but summer is winding down anyway

We're starting to get ready to go back to school. Wow, the summer went fast. School starts on August 6. I'll have two at the high school and one in the middle school. Elementary school is over - and I can't believe that, either.

The weather has been consistently over 105 for weeks, and today the pool air sensor says the air is 111 degrees. It's like living in a freaking hair dryer, and if the sun is beating down on you it is unbearable. I just keep reminding myself how I feel in January, even better, in April and May. I still prefer this weather to the long wait for spring and summer after a snowy, gray winter.

The last few weeks have continued to deliver their fair share of bullshit, but my tolerance for it has improved significantly - so the funk has wound down pretty well.

Thing 1's car, my mom's old Lexus, was acting weird again. Running very rough on a 115 degree afternoon. Last time it behaved that way it was $1700 to fix, so I was thinking that I should give some consideration to Cash of Clunkers. Turned out it was just a loose spark plug wire, and since that was part of the $1700 repair, there was no charge. However, I still needed to spend $1000 for a new radiator, upper and lower radiator hoses, a fuel filter, and a thermostat. The car is old, the parts are expensive, and there's nothing intelligent about living in the desert with a leaky radiator... oh, joy.

All the chickens are laying eggs now. We have 47 hens and 2 roosters, yielding at least two dozen eggs per day. I sell them now. They are $3 per dozen. The egg money basically pays for the feed and animal bedding for their pens.

We have at least two chickens that occasionally lay double yolk eggs. It is a fun surprise. We have also learned about "fart eggs", which are quirky, tiny, itty-bitty eggs. They are about the size of a quail egg. Sometimes they have yolks, but they can also not have yolks. So far all of ours have had at least a tiny yolk spot. Interesting. Nature is very interesting.

I'm not sure I have ever posted about our "special needs" chicken. Well, we have one. Her name is politically incorrect, so please forgive us. Her name is Gimpy.

When we received the last batch of chicks from the hatchery Gimpy was included. She clearly could not walk, and after careful inspection I concluded that her legs were fine. It looked /looks as though the connection from her brain to her legs is not so good, and when she was a little chick she was stepped on and didn't eat much (because getting to the food and water was challenging). I thought she would fail to thrive, and after all of the baby chicks we have had, I just didn't think she would make it. I'm the moron that labeled her Gimpy.

Gimpy is alive and well. She wobbles around, but mostly sits under a cover in the pen by herself. She is accepted by her own flock (the chickens she was raised with), but once a couple of hens from the other flock were accidentally left in her pen over night. When I went out the next day the two "outsiders" had Gimpy cornered and were trying to peck her to death. I saved her and she healed, but it was an ugly portrayal of how survival of the fittest works.

Another anomaly with Gimpy is her beak. I'm not sure why, perhaps it is the way eats, but her beak grew long and curved. Sort of 'buck-toothed', if you will. I did some research and found out that a beak that shape will make it difficult or impossible for her to eat. I also found out that people trim chicken beaks. Go figure. I'm sure that there are some inhumane practices in the commercial poultry industry to make them easier to manage, but I got this information from a hobby chicken person that shows her birds, so I took note. After careful consideration, I trimmed her beak yesterday. She didn't even seem to notice, much less mind - kind of like trimming a nail. Weird.

One last Gimpy factoid... She is a green/blue egg layer, and we get a very small green/blue egg from that flock. I often wonder if it is hers. I'd shoot a picture of one, but it is too hot to get up right now.

I've started leaving the chickens out during the day, even when I can not stand to be out there with them. I accept the risk that a hawk or another predator might take one or two, but they seem so much happier to have freedom to roam. The dogs help keep the predators guessing, too. So far, so good. We'll see when the weather cools down.

So there's the summer scoop. Hope your summer is going well!

Whoa. It is July 9

Note - this post may be repetitive if you have read my blog for a while.  Still, writing this again works for me.

Today I realized it was past July 8.  Man, that is great.   What is even better is that I never noticed that July 8 happened.

 July 8 carries a bit of heavy baggage.  

July 8, 2005 - There were moving vans on the street.  There were movers shuttling stuff up the driveway to the van - which made the move intensely expensive.  Stupid steep driveway.

There were people everywhere.  Mover guys, my kids, soon-to-be ex-husband, his "friends" a.k.a. victims, that were helping him put his shit on a trailer and hauling it to a storage place.  Is it just me, or when you pass age 30 aren't you supposed to understand that your friends are no longer obligated to help you move?  We were both taking our respective shit and moving out - not working well together, either.  Oh, it was so chaotic.  

Making July 8, 2005 more complicated, the lawyers were meeting at the courthouse.  You see, it was the big day.  The day the divorce would finally happen.  The house would close and the divorce would happen simultaneously.  It was the only way to guarantee all terms of a "clean" split would be met.  In hindsight, and after seeing my niece's cluster fuck divorce, it was well worth the chaos.

At some point in the chaos I was summoned to the courthouse to finalize.  I left the 13 year old in charge of the move (yeah, you read that right!), and went to the courthouse.  I didn't shower, didn't change, didn't do my hair, didn't put on make-up.  I just showed up.

When I arrived at the courthouse, Mr. Ex was all dressed up.  He had on a new Italian shoes, a new shirt, and was all polished up nice and shiny.  He had his usual overdose of cologne, which was probably good because I probably smelled like moving day.

We signed off on the end of the 23 year marriage.  We picked around the final bullshit, initialed, signed in multiple, etc.  Then we went into a court room where a judge asked us if we agreed to the thick packet of terms.  We swore we new what we were doing.  In fact, we went up on the stand.  We each swore that we understood the agreement.  We swore to the terms.  It was surreal.

I was surprised by one question.  The judge asked me if I wanted to keep the married name, or return to the maiden name.  Weird.  I had no idea that was going to happen.  I chose the name my children have.  I felt that it was important for me to have their name.  I'm not sure why - but it was an easy decision.

So that was July 8, 2005.

July 8, 2006 - Another freakishly memorable day.

Mom had already suffered the stroke.  She was in hospice care, and was ready to go.

I had taken the previous day off.  My brother spent the day with mom on July 7th.  I deserved the day off to sleep.  I had found mom on the evening of July 3, I was with her most of July 4, and all of July 5.  July 6 I was with her all of the time except when I took the kids to the airport to fly off  to see their dad.  July 7 I collapsed.

On July 8, 2006 my bother and I agreed I would go to be with mom.  I woke up late, took my time getting ready, and made my way over to the hospice facility.  Yeah, I'll admit it - I was dragging my feet.  I'm late for everything.  I'm one of the assholes that people say are selfish, rude, obnoxious, bad, bad, bad people.  Yes, I'm a person that shows up late more often than I care to admit.

I'm not proud of being one of the world's pariah.  I'm not proud that people think I'm an asshole, rude, inconsiderate, etc.  In fact, I'm sad that I am labeled as such.  Hey, call it a character defect, call it whatever, but I'm not a bad person.  I'm an idiot, but I'm not a bad person.

Mom always hated how I was often out of control with my time.  She analyzed it and she concluded that I simply hate to wait.  She said I'm late because I don't like to wait.

Completely true, I hate to wait.  I'm not sure it is 100% the reason I am late a lot, but it is a huge contributing factor.  The reason I don't think it is all about me not waiting is that I HATE it when I make others wait.  I'm not an asshole.  If I hate to wait, why would I subject people I care about to waiting?  It is way more complicated that me simply being an asshole.

But I digress, sort of.

I arrived at hospice and sat down with mom.  Two days prior I had given her a massage - I'm so happy that I did, because I feel good about how I was there with her, and connected..  She was more "with it" then.  This day it was sort of a relief that she wasn't "with it" as much, because at least it seemed she was not as stressed or uncomfortable.  At least is seemed that way.  Then, if there was any sign of discomfort I was all over the nurse for more morphine.  Mom was going to die, that was the plan, but there was no way that I wanted her to suffer or feel any pain whatsoever.

I held her hand.  I told her I loved her and that I would be o.k. if she had to go.  I knew she would be worried about me, but I also knew it was time for her to move on and for me to suck it up and be tough.  (Although, as you plainly see, I still grieve.)

So after I made my grand claims of strength and gave my permission for her exit, I sat there for about half a minute.  Tick, tock, tick, tock.  Well truthfully, it was whish, whish, whish, from the oxygen machine...

"Well,", I said.  "You know how I feel about waiting, don't you?"

It was my little joke.  Mom and I joked a lot.  She always laughed at my stupid jokes.

It was amazing.  It was unbelievable.  I will live with the next moments for the rest of my life.

Mom died within moments of my joke about hating to wait.  She went into clear changes within a minute, and I would guess it was 10 minutes until she was completely gone.

Yeah, she knew I hated to wait, and she knew I was as ready as I'd ever be to lose my best friend.

I cried.  I cried with joy for her.  She was free of the body that trapped her soul after her stroke.

A year or so later this was confirmed when she described the stroke and the time after to me through a medium.  She confirmed that she was hanging on for me.  She told me lots of interesting stuff - none of which was information the medium could have possibly guessed, all of which was specific.  Very specific.  She even told me what to do with the unfinished quilts I was wondering about.  She told me without being prompted or asked.  Seriously.  It was unreal!

O.K., so there is July 8 for you!  It is a mighty big date in my life, and what is even better is that it passed this year without me realizing it.  This year the day slipped by.  Ah, the beauty of time passing.  Sweet, sweet time.

Yesterday I happened to find a bunch of patio furniture for 75% off.  I redecorated my patio by the pool and am sitting out here loving the cool night air.   July 8, 2009 was remarkably unremarkable.  Thank God for the unremarkable days in life, huh?

Time is good.  Healing is good.

Ahhh... Silence

I don't mean to be insensitive, but this guy's commercials drove me crazy! The yelling, the yelling, the yelling! Oy.

I hope he rests in peace.

Quietly.

Is this the beginning of the end?

Warning: This ain't no cheerful post - proceed at your own risk.

Don't take my title too seriously. I'm in the inevitable funk.

Thing is, I've hit a big wall.

My vacation was wonderful. I love to see my kids grow. They are wonderful people, and great travelers. The scenery we saw, and the stuff we did was great. I hope that they will always remember the trip. However, it is hard. It's hard to be responsible and leading the good time all alone. I did a great job, but I would have loved to have a friend along to share the load.

On my trip home I decided on a book title, that God willing, will be changed by a publisher. The title is: Social Networks: One woman's adventure in time travel. I've got it in me, but Thing 1 says it won't ever happen - because she says I always put them first.

Mr. Ex has been pulling his typical misery creating bullshit. I try to be tough, but truth is I'm breaking. He has always had radar for finding a way to make anything bad for me worse. Now is no exception. The details? Not exciting - just that he figured out that if he maximizes any deductions from gross income he can get the garnishment for alimony to exceed the maximum of 60% allowable by law. So far he has come up with deductions that are reducing alimony payments by over $200 per month. May not sound like much to you, but for us it is a grocery bill. While he is building up a big tax refund and buying stocks, we have even less cash than before - and believe me, we can't really live on what he sends - I've just been playing a giant financial shell game for a few years. I need to be working, and the current market sucks for someone that was performing "Community Service and Property Management" since 2001. (Not a bad resume label for being a stay at home. DYI genius, huh? - well, it ain't working.)

I thought I could put a lien on Mr. Ex's tax refund (which will exceed $10k when he files next April), but because the decree calls it alimony (done for tax purposes), I can not use the child support enforcement processes in place between the federal and state governments. Fuck. What the hell does alimony do? Yeah, it supports children.

Meanwhile cash flow sucks, any investments I have left are still worth shit, and I don't get interviewed, much less hired - for what I'm qualified to do and damn good at.

I'm sick of broken water softeners, water heaters, pool crap... negotiating with repair people, replacing tires, getting oil changes. I'm sick of plain old life right now. So much bullshit.

Yes, intellectually I know that this will pass. Emotionally, it's tough. I swirl in feelings of anger, resentment, hate, sorrow, regret, more anger, more regret. Fuck.

I also need to finally realize that my hopes and dreams are a bunch of crap. I hate to admit that I was wrong, but I guess I am - or if I'm right, it doesn't matter anyway. I've always held out hope that my Mr. Whatif would wake up and see that his life can be better and he can still meet his obligations. I have been ready to forgive, forget the pain, and embrace the magic that was our connection. (Sorry if that is too sappy, stupid, or unrealistic for anyone - but it is my pathetic truth.) I followed my heart, believed in my instinct, and even recognized that he need to wait for his child to become an adult. His mom and my mom gave me "thumbs up" about our connection when I went to the medium a few years back.

My hopes are dead. He won't see it. His preference is living in punishment and guilt, and won't see that he is better off if he moves toward light. I can't change that, nor should I have to.

I don't have the energy to build new hopes right now. Truth is, I am raising my kids and loving every minute of watching them become wonderful human beings. I'll be here until they are all out on their own. But truth is... I only stay here for them. I'm too tired to dream or wish anymore. Most days, once I've done what my kids need from me, I don't give a rats ass about life. I have trouble moving. I have trouble... with anything.

Throughout my life I have struggled with the "why". Why do we exist? I used to stick around because I felt I was here for my parents - and now they are gone. Now I exist because my children need me - but that time is fading quickly, and so am I.

It's not that I'm suicidal, it is that I just don't see the point of being a strong person anymore. I feel used up, old, abused, abandoned, and tired. I don't feel like looking for a partner. I don't like much of the choices, and let's face it - an almost 50 year old woman with three kids, no matter how attractive and "well preserved", isn't in any more demand out there than someone that has "Community Service and Real Estate Management" on their resume for an 8 year stretch.

Hey, I told you it was a funk!

I love whoever reads this blog. Thanks.