Oh Bummer!

Yesterday I got the news about my gas heater out here in the little house. It's died and can't be resuscitated.

It doesn't take much to heat this room, and since the beginning I've had more heater than  I needed.  First it was an Army camp stove.  I got up early, stoked the fire and got back in bed.  I didn't have a kitchen then so cooking was done on the flat surface of the camp stove.  I could make coffee.  I kept milk, butter, eggs in a cooler on the front steps.  I had a chopping block and cut kindling, morning and night.  I was working at Nordstrom as the manager of the Personal Shoppers.  I had to look like I was a walking ad for Nordstrom at all times.  If only they could have seen me in my down parka with my jammies tucked into well worn Wellingtons out chopping wood in the dark of early morning before I started the morning transformation from winter camper to fashion maven.  I drove to work in a '67 Chevy short bed pickup with an extra heavy transmission with no syncromesh so I had to double clutch in and out of every gear.  It was cherry.  Teen aged boys always wanted to buy it.  They were dismayed by the incongruity of me in it.  I loved that truck.

The second incarnation in heat was a bulky oblong brown metal box with a tall silver chimney that vents at the edge of the ceiling.   I'll be happy to have the silver pipe gone since it completely ruins the look of the longest wall in the house.  It is the only ugly element.  Good riddance.  And the cheap brown metal box with a grill on top and a grill in the front occupies primo real estate on that one long wall.  I'll be glad it's gone.  But the getting it out, and the place it stood repaired and repainted, is another thing.  I'll have to go shopping for concrete paint.  I'll probably have to repaint the wall and that particular triangle of ceiling.  This will begin early Monday morning and take all day. And in the end I'll have a smaller quieter wall mounted gas heater.  And my bank account will be greatly depleted.

We know where all this cleaning and painting leads, don't we?  And now I have no one to help me paint the whole place.  Bummer.  That's what happens when you offend and alienate all the men in your life.  If you're a youngish woman and you're reading this, take heed.  Men have their place in your life.  Male friends are good to keep.  Otherwise learn how to do all this shit and have the proper tools. Last time Tom was asked to paint my ceiling he turned his face on the pillow and said, "Where's your scaffolding?"  Tom was the best painter I ever knew.  I didn't think he was terribly funny though.  I hear his eldest son is a master painter as well.  Both men are musicians.

This weekend I will be moving furniture around again.  It wasn't more than a month ago I moved it all for the first time in three years.  But until the new heater is in, I'll have no idea what to do with the arrangement in the room.  For now I need to move things away from the most crowed wall. Paintings stacked in a safe corner.  My two favorite bookcases are against that wall. They are heavy and packed.  I will have to unload them to muscle them into another position.  Everything will have to be draped and protected.  I just got my computer back.

It's supposed to start raining tomorrow and turn to snow Monday.  We'll have a freezing night and I'll need to make sure the Eastern Boys get their swamp cooler winterized from the inside out.  This involves making a trip to Lowes.  Bummer.  Better get a new hammer and a few filters for the boys furnace while I'm there getting a strip of insulation for the swamp cooler.  See how easily costs multiply? 

And just to crowd time a bit more, I have to empty and store hoses, turn off outside water and bring all houseplants inside.  Today's the day for that because the weather's taking a sharp turn toward winter.  Even if I felt full of cheerful energy this would be a lot of work.  But I woke up tired.  And I can't perk up. Time to quit whining and muscle through it.

I just got the property tax bill. Shorter days, longer nights. Value down, taxes up. Has to be paid by the end of November.  Merry Xmas.

Shit Happens

I think it all began with my computer slowing down.  Then it started acting wonky in other ways.  And this seemed to coincide with my body going wonky as well.  I had gut pain.  I can't remember exactly when this all started but I imagine it began just after that horrible hospitalization for an abscess in my colon.  I don't really think the abscess was half so bad as the actual hospital stay.  I'm now hospital phobic.  Thanks Salt Lake Regional Medical Center. Your dreadful care has made me prefer death to another visit to your ER.

I lose time.  So does my computer.  I have gut pain and my computer freezes up.  This panics me so I finally schedule a colonoscopy and the prep nearly kills me.  I ruin clothes with that horrible purge.  No one warms you that you'll shit the bed, so fast comes the liquefied contents of your colon.  I strip and deposit my clothing into a hefty bag and then the trash.  Oddly enough, the photo of my colon looks like a pink and perfect babies butt.  And for a week after the colonoscopy my bowel seems paralyzed.  This worries me.  My computer seizes up.  I have to force quit every time I try to tweet.  Why is my computer mimicking my body?

Next comes an episode of violent illness that scares me into scheduling a complete physical that is happening in stages, so thorough is it.  This illness stricks in the middle of the night.  I awaken from a sound sleep at roughly 3:00 AM.  It is the shits.  Not to gross you out, but so violent is this bout of liquified shit that I ruin two more sets of newish jammies.  And as soon as I plop myself down on the toilet I strip the fouled clothing off my body and then the vomiting starts.  There is no time to find a better place to vomit since I'm still emptying my gut into the toilet, so I lean over the tub and barf.  This puking and shitting goes on for eleven hours.  For three days I can keep nothing down.  My neighbor thinks I should go to the ER.  Fat fucking chance!  No way in hell!  I'd rather die at home.

And as soon as I think those thoughts my computer dies.  Has my Imac become a modern day Hal?  I dither about what to do.  Phillip, the wonderful Sitenoise, runs some diagnostic tests and at first it seems to say that there is hope.  But still my computer doesn't work.  It seems to be saying, "I prefer not." like my favorite Melville character, Bartleby, the Scrivener.  I seem to have a too close relationship with my computer.  My own projections are infecting it.  How odd.

So, now I'm starting to feel better but my computer seems to have died in my place.  Could death been stalking me and the computer was generous enough to go in my place?  I'm about ready to believe anything.  Phillip and I have consulted over my options.  Seems I will have to take my big honking Imac to the Mac Store in the Gateway Mall.  I have been to that Mall three times since it opened and it was one man or another that force marched me into that hell hole.  I swore I'd never return.  Seems that's the only authorized Mac Store.  Motherfucker!

I procrastinate.  To be continued with less references to shit.  And I have a new wardrobe.  Happy Ending (if shopping is your idea of a happy ending).

My Computer is broke!

Peggy seems to have worn the thing out. Damn iMac just couldn't take the beating. It needs to go to the shop, which is a major chore in itself, before final diagnosis and decisions are made: fix it or get a new one. Just so ya'll know. Could be a couple days or a couple weeks before we get her back online.

Fifty Fucking Questions!

Here's the deal with questions like this.  I think maybe ten of them are worth going into detail to answer, but my answers don't interest me much, so I don't feel like giving them in much detail.  I have answered lists of questions before and at one time or another I was grateful for the list because I was stumped for something to write about.  I'm not stumped about what to write about, I'm just not feeling well enough to write and I have chores to do.  Real work, the kind that makes you sweat and tired.  I'm starting out tired. I haven't been feeling tip top.

If you're a certain kind of person, you'll probably know just what I need to make me feel better and you'll be willing to tell me.  I won't take your advise, so save your breath.  I got a lifetime of good advise from people who supposedly loved me and it lead me away from listening to my own body, my own mind.  It lead me to ignore my intuition, to put off my pleasure to pleasure someone else.  Well, fuck that my dears.  I'm listening to myself.  And myself tells me I don't want to answer these questions.  But never let it be said I wasn't a good sport.  Just remember this about me.  I'm not that nice.

1.How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?  Answer:  I'd feel really fucking old.

2.Which is worse, failing or never trying?  Answer: Oh give me a break!

3.If life is so short, why do we do so many things we don’t like and like so many things we don’t do? Answer: Is this a trick question?  My life has been twice as long as I thought it would be and I've done most everything except get a book published and a movie deal for it.  I didn't have a child, but that was my choice.  I wasn't good at love, but I think I'm the kind of person who needs to live alone.  I didn't make a lot of money because I wasn't ambitious for money; I always valued time more than money.  Oh, and though I have been to Paris, I haven't lived there.  But the why and how of other people and the things they do and don't do is a mystery to me.

4.When it’s all said and done, will you have said more than you’ve done? Answer: I will have done more than I should have, and said less than I wanted.

5.What is the one thing you’d most like to change about the world?  Answer:  War?  Religion?

6.If happiness was the national currency, what kind of work would make you rich?  Answer: Riding horses, having chickens, rabbits, a sunny garden.  I don't want much.  I'd like to see my writing in print and on the big and/or little screen.  That's as big as it gets for me.

7.Are you doing what you believe in, or are you settling for what you are doing? Answer: Yes.

8.If the average human life span was 40 years, how would you live your life differently? Answer:  I probably wouldn't change a thing but the parents I had.

9.To what degree have you actually controlled the course your life has taken? Answer: To very little degree.  My life led me around by the nose.

10. Are you more worried about doing things right, or doing the right things? Answer:  I'd like to know I could do a few things right, and I don't give a shit about doing the right things.  No, I have to modify that a little.  I'd like to write a good enough query letter to find my way into print and then onto the big and/or little screen. I've written a number of things I'm damn sure would make good cinema or a good television series. Having to write the ad copy to sell my writing has brought me to a screeching halt.  Oh did you mean some altruistic thing?


11.You’re having lunch with three people you respect and admire. They all start criticizing a close friend of yours, not knowing she is your friend. The criticism is distasteful and unjustified. What do you do? Answer: I'd let them finish trashing my friend then tell them she/he is my friend.  Then I'd watch to see how they react.

12. If you could offer a newborn child only one piece of advice, what would it be? Answer:  I give advise to no one.

13.Would you break the law to save a loved one? Answer: Yes. I'd break some laws just for fun.  I'll let you figure that one out.

14.Have you ever seen insanity where you later saw creativity? Answer: I see my own insanity almost every day.  It is probably why I'm creative.

15.What’s something you know you do differently than most people? Answer:  I live in my garage.  Do you?  I didn't think so.

16.How come the things that make you happy don’t make everyone happy? Viva le differance! Answer: seems to me you answered your own question.

17.What one thing have you not done that you really want to do?   What’s holding you back? Answer: See question #10

18.Are you holding onto something you need to let go of? Answer:  I've always been able to turn my back and walk away from everything but my mother.  I was advised by two very good therapists to get away from her and never look back, but I waited to long.  Then as her only living relative, I was legally responsible for her.  Now I'm just living my life day by day.  Most of the time it's pretty good.  I even say to myself now and then, "I love my life."

19.If you had to move to a state or country besides the one you currently live in, where would you move and why? Answer:  Maybe live in France or Denmark.

20.Do you push the elevator button more than once? . Do you really believe it makes the elevator faster? Answer. Yes.  No.

21.Would you rather be a worried genius or a joyful simpleton?  Answer I'd rather be a mostly happy person of above average intelligence.

22.Why are you, you? Answer: Nature/Lack of nurture/too much abuse and stress early on/the genes for bipolar disorder/the kind of looks that made me prey when I was young and made choosing a career modeling very seductive and easy/the shame that I made my living by my looks/marrying the wrong men/loving the wrong man.

23.Have you been the kind of friend you want as a friend? Answer: I think I'm basically a pretty shitty friend.  So no, I don't think I'd want myself as a friend.  I can be entertaining and fun now and then, but I don't take crap from anyone and I call bullshit on those I love.  I hate most parties, I don't drink so bars no longer interest me, and I'd rather stay home so I you want to see me you have to come to me.  I'm unsentimental about death.  This horrifies most of my friends.  But my lack of sentimentality has led me to leave my body to the U of Utah Med School when I die and to plan to have a way out if I need it.  I have a friend who has told me he'll come here to be with me when I decided to take my life.  I know he won't and I wouldn't want him to.  No matter how many people are around the bed of the dying, we all die alone.  And when we're gone life moves on, as it should.

24.Which is worse, when a good friend moves away, or losing touch with a good friend who lives right near you? Answer: Losing touch with a good friend who lives close by.  I have one of those three houses away.  It was her choice.  I honor her decision.

25.What are you most grateful for? Answer: That I lived long enough to survive my awful parents.  Knowing that my father suffered a horrible death.  See what I mean when I say I'm not that nice?  I'm not willing to pretend.  I have no shame.

26.Would you rather lose all of your old memories, or never be able to make new ones? Answer: I'd rather keep the old memories.  It's been great material.  And I don't plan to have a bunch of new memories.  My short term memory sucks but my recall of distant events is clear and sharp.

27. Is is possible to know the truth without challenging it first? Answer: Yes. Fire burns!  Unless you're on acid.  Then anything is possible.

28. Has your greatest fear ever come true? Answer: Yes.  It was having to care for my mother when she became the same old bitch only demented and incontinent.  She got meaner with each passing day.  I became her prisoner and slave.

29.Do you remember that time 5 years ago when you were extremely upset?  Does it really matter now? Answer:  Which time?

30.What is your happiest childhood memory?  Answer:  Riding horses.     What makes it so special? Answer: My parents didn't ride.

31.At what time in your recent past have you felt most passionate and alive? Answer: When I was flirting with Darkblack.

32.If not now, then when? Answer:  Oh bother.  I'll think about that tomorrow.

33.If you haven’t achieved it yet, what do you have to lose? Answer: Everything.  Nothing.

34.Have you ever been with someone, said nothing, and walked away feeling like you just had the best conversation ever?  Answer:  Probably.  I was probably stoned, too.

35.Why do religions that support love cause so many wars?  Answer: that is the question of the ages.  I'd love to take that Pulitzer Peace Prize and then the Nobel that's sure to follow, but I haven't a clue why anyone believes in a religion, let alone why they are willing to kill in its name.

36.Is it possible to know, without a doubt, what is good and what is evil? Answer: No.  And only a simpleton like George Bush talks in those terms.  The axis of evil my ass.  Call someone part of the axis of evil and you've got nowhere to go but to war.

37.If you just won a million dollars, would you quit your job? Answer: No, I like my job since I'm my boss.  I'd give myself a raise and go to Paris. 

38.Would you rather have less work to do, or more work you actually enjoy doing?  Answer:  With that million I won, I'd contribute to improving the economy of a window washer, a gardener, a contractor and crew to remodel both houses.  And in so doing change the work I do from laborer to supervisor on my own project.

39.Do you feel like you’ve lived this day a hundred times before? Answer: No.  Everything changes even if it seems to stay the same.

40.When was the last time you marched into the dark with only the soft glow of an idea you strongly believed in?  Answer:  A month or so ago when I was forced by this economy to get a reverse mortgage.

41.If you knew that everyone you know was going to die tomorrow, who would you visit today? Answer: I'd be enjoying my last day alive as quietly as possible.

42.Would you be willing to reduce your life expectancy by 10 years to become extremely attractive or famous?  Answer: No.

43.What is the difference between being alive and truly living?  Answer:  I don't know but I'm truly alive.

44.When is it time to stop calculating risk and rewards, and just go ahead and do what you know is right?  Answer:  I have seldom calculated risk and rewards.  I've done what I felt I had to most of the time.  I wasn't always right.  I probably won't be in the future either. 

45.If we learn from our mistakes, why are we always so afraid to make a mistake? Answer: Probably because we know how costly some of our mistakes have been.  There are endless opportunities to make more mistakes in the future and no way to avoid them all.  The constant nature of change makes it a certainty there will be new experiences where the past isn't exactly a road map for the future.

46.What would you do differently if you knew nobody would judge you? Answer:  I'm finally doing what I would have done if I'd known I had any other options than the ones that presented themselves at the time.

47.When was the last time you noticed the sound of your own breathing? Answer: At my last doctor appointment when I was asked to breathe this way and then that way.  My lungs are clear.  I have huge lungs. I don't live with the constant stress and tension I did in the days when I was living with men or in my mother's presence.  So I no longer hold my breath in order to keep from feeling my real feelings.

48.What do you love? Answer: Writing, when it flows.  Dreams, when I have them.  Sleep, when it comes.  Dogs, cats, horses, the occasional person. 

49.In 5 years from now, will you remember what you did yesterday? What about the day before that? Or the day before that? Answer:  Check my answer to question #39.  The only certainty is change.  No day is ever exactly the same as another.  I might remember this day in almost every detail, but I won't remember that it was five years ago.  I will probably think it was two or three years ago.  Time flies when you get this old.

50.Decisions are being made right now. The question is: Are you making them for yourself, or are you letting others make them for you? Answer:  I do what I can to influence outcomes.  For instance, I donate what I can and I vote.  I sign petitions, I express my opinions. I write about the things that matter to me when I can write.  I do what I can but I'm not that fucking powerful.  No one person is.  I make decisions every day but they won't matter much except in small ways and mostly to my cat and dog.

Upon reading through this I find I lost interest about half way through.  So I haven't proof read these answers. 

Stasis

I should do a little research and see if this lassitude, this almost dormancy is cyclical.  I have lost the will to write anything longer than a comment or tweet.  Has Twitter ruined me?  Perhaps.  But I was cranking out posts at a rate of two a day for much of my first year on Twitter, so I can't really put this all off on Twitter.  And truth be told, I'm even neglecting Twitter.

I don't feel well.  It's just the same old stuff. My platelet count is down again.  I'll bet my cholesterol is up again.  My colon is fine for now, but knowing me and how little water I'm naturally inclined to drink, it won't be fine for long.  The only time in my life as an adult I didn't eat healthy was during the worst of the time of caring for my heinous and demented mother.  There came a point I just didn't have the energy for cooking, so I lived on cereal and Budget Gourmet.  But those days are long past.  And I've been eating healthy for five years now.  I don't walk far enough or long enough, but I'm working on it.  There, so much for my health.

I suspect my lassitude has more to do with political fatigue and the too fast ending of long days.  I'm sensitive to short days.  I need sunlight and time.  Winter is coming and now I have work to do outside.  I've neglected the yard this year.  I haven't finished enlarging the path and patio here from the little house to the front house.  I didn't realize how much Ms M did to make the front of the house look good.  I hardly ever venture out front except to pick up mail or coming and going with Marley when we walk.  I have set water several times to find it turned off by one of the young men in the front house.  They think half an hour is plenty.  Not for trees, it isn't.  I haven't felt well enough to mow, but then when you hardly ever water, the lawn doesn't grow much.

I have cut the Iris, pulled vines out of trees, raked the pine needles, trimmed the mint.  I will cut the Vinca from the paved paths, pull the bulbs from the beds too close to the house.  I will re pot house plants getting ready to bring them inside.  But what I cannot do is write.  Not for the time being.  I will wait for the leaves to turn and fall and then I will rake.

Little Fly

The Process of Esperanza Spalding

Because of You, Christine O'Donnell...

I'd given up masturbation because of a lack of desire, but I'm now pledging to masturbate at least once a day as a protest of sorts.  Christine O'Donnell, it's all because of you!  If only you'd have claimed ice cream was the sweet sweet way to win your hoped for Senate seat, I'd be giving up ice cream instead of taking up masturbation.  Maybe the calories burned during masturbation will offset the calories consumed eating ice cream.

I Suffer From A Lack of Passion...

It feels like battle fatigue.  I had a form of that growing up and it never quite ran away. 

I look back at that sentence and my first impulse is to fix it, but that Freudian quality is just what I'm talking about.  I thought it would be easier after I recovered from being my mother's caregiver, but the financial disaster her illness created for me is still (six years later) rippling out into the rest of my life. And it makes me feel like selling my jewels to keep the farm.  Instead I sold the farm to keep the farm.  This is the magic of the Reverse Mortgage.  Next, if I can find that top hat, I might try a rabbit trick.

The book I wrote, The Narcissist,  is about my nightmarish relationship with my strange mother.  I thought when I finished it things would change.  I now wonder if I can't write a query letter because I'm not done with the book yet.  Does it need a rewrite?  Why can't I write a synopsis?  What's the book about again?

I felt a few moments jubilation when I thought I finally figured out the device to bring the narrative into the first person present tense, to hold the story together, to give it a focus, to keep it in the moment, to give it life.  I did that last rewrite and thought I was finished.  But then the next step would have been to write a query letter and a synopsis.  I'd have had to pick a genre, and sell it like cereal.  Is it my desire to be discovered and thus forgo all the grubby work of finding an agent and getting published?  Oh fiddle de de.  Am I just a dabbler?

I did have a Scarlett O'Hara moment, thinking "I'll think about that tomorrow" the last time I pondered the Query quandary and then promptly followed my bliss into a flirtation with a man I've never met (nor ever will) which temporarily revived my libido and was cause for some slightly reckless solitary celebration and that turned into the first six chapters of a new book.

Then someone talked me into joining Facebook.  I wish I knew which one of you to blame for this time-sucking obsession but it's the reason I can't writing anything except the occasional comment.  It isn't Twitter's fault this time.  Facebook has me stalking the great news story and friending my favorite reporters.  It's Facebook's fault. 

At about the time I joined up, Fairlane (a man who used to scare me) asked me to contribute to a new blog, Black Magpie Theory.  I kind of worshipped Fairlane from afar, years ago (how sick is that to worship a man who scares you) so my ego made me say "yes" without giving much real thought to it.  (I think some version of this is what was wrong with all my relationships with men.)  And then insecurity set in.  And then the invitation became a meeting, and then the deadline became a reality.  I couldn't meet my deadlines.  Other writers (like Lisa and Tengrain) said it better, and I wasn't posting much on my blog either.  You know the rest.  I'm not writing. 

When will the dry spell end?  Your guess is as good as mine.

The Orange Man Lies

I'm upset about the political gamesmanship going on, worried we might have that orange faced jackass, Boehner as the new Speaker of the House.  For god's sake people, do you expect a two year fix on a financial crisis that took eight years in the making?  Are we like toddlers who throw a tantrum when we don't get our Popsicle now, this instant?  Barack Obama is not a magician and the economy isn't a rabbit to be pulled out of a hat.  The party of No is still saying No, no matter what John Boehner claims he's now "willing to compromise" on.  And if you believe Boehner is willing to compromise on taxes, you're very very gullible.  Boehner's constituency is the top 2% of taxpayers. The Republicans represent those who can afford to pay a very high priced tax accountant to find ways to avoid any taxes at all and the big corporations who donate to their campaign coffers.  They don't give a rats ass about the middle class or small businesses.  When you hear Boehner talk about the tax breaks for the rich (set to expire soon, since they are not, nor ever were, deficit neutral) he frames it as a tax hike for "middle class businesses" and this is double speak.  Letting a tax cut for the rich that was scheduled to run out due to the fact that it was never deficit neutral and so had (by law) to expire in 10 years run out is now being called a tax increase by the GOPers.

Give lower income families jobs and a tax break and they'll spend the money on goods and services that stimulate the economy.  Give the rich a tax break and they'll save the money.  They don't need it so why spend it.  If you have the slightest doubt about this watch this clip.  It breaks down the income brackets and how they fare under Republicans versus Democrats:

Glade

Golden dimpling light, the short green spikes of Iris dead remain
Cut to please the neighbors before the freezing rain, October comes

And in this moment’s gesture, arm outstretched, remember longing, for it’s pain
I love my life if only for this momentary fire in the brain, a flash, and that’s enough


Can’t say I ever loved myself.  I felt defective from the start.
Not good enough for anybody’s love, it was my shame.
I have been told, “You’re pretty.”  What does it mean in any way that matters?
Why not the ecstasy of adolescent longing? Why not the waiting by the phone?
I hate the whipsaw of control and need.  I’d rather die alone


A leap into the void without the faith that anything will hold
Crossing on the Michelangelo. Accompanied by a charming thief
I climbed the winding, narrowing streets of Rome.  Accosted naked in a baking
Windblown room, I ran and never loved a man who loved me too
I spent my life retreating from desire.  What makes me think that words will save me now?


A picture of a naked child, she sit and stirs the dirt, her smile just barely there, sublime.
The dog attends ears pricked and staring at the camera, he keeps them all away
The danger of the man who disappears.   I look away and find a rapture
In the glade, a patch of dirt, the dog, the memory of the man, and that's enough.
 


©2008 Peggy Pendleton

The News Is Making Me Sick

So many things are going on simultaneously that I can't focus my outrage enough to write anything but a screaming tweet now and then.

It isn't just the batshit crazy cracker "pastor" in Gainsville, Florida with a "congregation of fifty and the scheme to burn Qurans to make some kind of statement (though no one has yet been able to quite decipher it).  I think I heard on one of the news programs that this snake oil salesman turned "pastor" has written a book of his own, so simple publicity is most likely his motivation.   But the insanity of one church burning the sacred book of another church is as irreligious as anything I've ever heard of and I'm an old atheist. No matter that General David Patreus, the favorite General of the GOP has made a plea that this act of sacrilege should not go forward, still no GOPers have stepped forward to speak out against this moron and tell him to knock it off.

It isn't just Newt Gengrich and others on the RWNJ side of the aisle who are demagoguing the Park 51 Community Center and Mosque by calling it the "Ground Zero Mosque," which is bull shit, since there are many businesses closer to "Ground Zero" (that gaping hole in the ground) some nine years after the attacks, that are far less sacred than a church and far more insulting to the whole concept of sacredness, like a strip joint and a smattering of fast food places.  The whining from the Glenn Becks and Sarah Palins of the world about how hurt we all are makes us seem like "The Land of the Emotionally Delicate, and the Home of the Xenophobic." What a bunch of ninnies!

The Brits carried on during the Blitz, which lasted a very long time and with a stiff upper lip as they fought World War II, a war far closer to home than Saudi Arabia (where our attackers came from) and the rest of the Middle East is to us.  But that Saudi Arabian reality wasn't convenient for the Bush family who have business dealings with the Saudi royal family that goes back a long time, so, we went to war with Iraq instead while pretending we were serious about chasing Osama bin Ladan in Afghanistan and bankrupted our country in the process.  There is much to say about this but it's only one of the many things pissing me off and putting me off writing.  It's also making me physically ill.

I'm a Stranger In A Strange Land: Utah

A Crazy Mother, Death and Property Taxes: My First Economic Meltdown

There was a perfect storm of catastrophes ten years ago in my life.  I was living alone in my house, modeling, acting, and doing a bit of production work as a stylist.  My biggest client was ZCMI or Zion's Cooperative Mercantile Institute (owned by the Mormon Church) a large and successful department store that ran multiple daily ads in the two Salt Lake newspapers, the occasional ad in the big glossy fashion magazines like Vogue and Harper's Bazaar and ads on television as well as the inserts in the statements they sent out. They also provided a lot of runway work for models.  They put on some of the biggest fashion shows around and I had been for several years one of their favorites.  They accounted for 80% of my income.  I had a great agent and was doing well enough to begin investing in the stock market.  I'd been making enough money in the five years preceding 2000 to have a nice little stock portfolio.  I had five credit cards with very generous limits and very low interest rates.  I traveled (for work and for play). The Clinton years had been exceptionally good for me.  I, like many investors, was fond of tech stocks.  Then it all came crashing down.

The first catastrophic thing that happened to my happy life was the closing of ZCMI. There was no prior warning.  It happened quickly, like a beheading.  And it changed the opportunities for tens of thousands of people in so many different businesses in Salt Lake.  It was devastating for photographers and the people working with them, the TV production people who worked on those commercial shoots.  It was hard on agents and all the talent working on the shows, print ads, and TV commercials.  The people who did lights and music for shows lost major accounts.  Since I was a model in print, TV, and fashion shows as well as getting booked as a make-up artist and stylist, I was devastated.
A lot of the people who worked in the stores as buyers, department managers, sales staff, and custodial staff were in their forties and fifties, not yet old enough to retire but too old and too experienced to easily transition to other retail outlets without taking huge cuts in pay and jobs that didn't reflect their decades of work in the fashion industry. 

Then the tech bubble burst and I began to lose money in the Stock Market.  I hadn't been taking dividends out of the market but rolling them back into my investments.  At first I lost that money I'd been leaving in my accounts that could have been income.  Then I started losing capital and finally I pulled out of the Stock Market.  Work slowed to a trickle.  Bush was handed the Presidency by the Supreme Court and from that moment on my life became hell.

My mother, Maggy, went spectacularly crazy in Santa Barbara in 2000.  As her only child, I was informed she was my legal responsibility.  Part of her craziness was giving all her money to the guys running the scam called The Canadian Lottery.  The Feds and Mounties were investigating these crimes and asked for my help in finding out the name of the person Maggy was sending her money to.  I could account for only $100,000 that was taken out of her bank accounts in $25,000 chunks as cashier's checks wired to a mail drop in Canada.  But at least we had documentation that her identity had been stolen along with her life savings.  She'd started cashing checks from various secret bank accounts and hiding hundred dollar bills in books or behind photos or tucked in seemingly unrelated files in a file cabinet in her apartment in Santa Barbara. I only know this because after bringing my crazy, incontinent, mean mother to Salt Lake, I had to fly back to Santa Barbara, empty and clean her apartment and storage unit.  I had three days to do it without lights or heat or hot water in cold and rainy weather.  The utilities had been turned off before I managed to get her to Salt Lake.  I spent thousands of dollars on plane tickets between here and there, as well as car rentals and all of this was done while I hobbled on a painful freshly broken ankle and foot.  And during this time of getting her and most of her stuff from there to here, I lost thousands of dollars in bookings. My agent was frantic to get me working again.

Once I had her here, I had to be her full time caregiver because I couldn't afford to hire a skilled baby sitter to replace me,  or a nursing home.  My mother kept trying to run away, usually wearing only a skimpy sweater and not  another stitch of clothing with shit dribbling down the backs of her shriveled legs.  I changed all the locks, locked the gate, and held us both prisoner.  I had her in my care until I was bankrupt. I was so depressed and exhausted I could no longer get out of bed. I had to lock her in my room with me, since I couldn't let her out of my sight. After four years of caring for her, I was hospitalized for two and a half weeks and she went into a nursing home.

She died almost five years ago.  I'm still recovering from the financial ravages of that shit storm of misfortunes.  Taking care of my mother

Now I'm taking care of the house she left me and which I can't afford to live in.  And I'm not alone in this predicament given the current financial meltdown.

(the link is to my novella called: The End Of Life As We Know It)

My Twitter Friend, 42bkdodgr Wrote This. It's Exactly How I Feel

Ashamed

I am ashamed by what is happening in our country.

I’m ashamed that we have a political party that has nothing to offer but fear and hate, so it creates chaos on non-issues such as “death panels” and having a “Cultural Center and Mosque near the 9/11 site”.
I’m ashamed that we have a political party that boasts it believes in the Constitution, then does everything to rip it and tear it apart; by wanting to change the First, Fourteenth, and Seventeenth amendments, because they don’t meet their ideology.
I’m ashamed that one of the purported leaders of a political party has no understanding what the First Amendment means.  A person who feels she can say whatever she wants without being criticized. A person who believes if you criticize her you are infringing on her freedom of speech, yet doesn’t understand that railing against those who criticize her, she is infringing upon their First Amendment rights.
I’m ashamed that we have a political party who thinks its more important, during our worst economic times, to block or delay everything that would improve or help the lives of the American people that the President or Democrats in Congress propose.
I’m ashamed that a political party would vote NO on practically every bill, even on ideas they previously supported, only because the president has adopted them.
I’m ashamed we have a political party where its more important to make the president look bad than do what is best for the country.
I’m ashamed that we have a news network that purports itself to be “Fair and Balanced”, then does everything to demean and spread misinformation about  our president, while openly supporting the Republican Party and Tea Baggers.
I’m ashamed at what has happened to the civility in this country during the last 18 months. We can thank Rush, the right wing media, especially the “Republican Fox New Network” for this.
I’m ashamed that the right wing likes to treat our president as “not one of us”, with their outrageous accusations that he wasn’t born in the USA and that he is a Muslim, when evidence proves they are wrong.
I can go on and on about what makes me feel ashamed or embarrassed about what is happening in our country, but one thing I do know, we are destroying our country from within and doing Al-Queda’s work.
I am ashamed, but still very hopeful, that Americans who truly believe in the principles of the Constitution and for what it stands will reject the fear and hate being spread, as they have done in the past, and move this country to a better tomorrow.

 This was first posted at: The Political Carnival

Mercinaries: The Threat No One Is Talking About

As I was watching MSNBC’s live coverage of the withdrawal of American combat troops from Iraq Wednesday night, I kept thinking about our troops left behind. We left 50,000 non-combat troops in Iraq to provide security for our Embassy and “other” interests. 
MSNBC had some vague mention of private (for profit) contractors in their coverage last night.  Mentions of private contractors are always vague.  I want a policy-wonk journalist to go after this story, find out what they do and for whom and at what cost.  What are we paying them to do? What have they done?
We know so little about these private contractors with huge no-bid contracts for…whom? the CIA? the State Department? the Pentagon? the Defense Department of the United States Government?
We know that the State Department uses private security forces to guard diplomats and politicians traveling in foreign countries.  We know that they work for the CIA. We pay their salaries.
One of the private contractors is Xe Services LLC; that is their official name now. They used to be called Blackwater, and then Blackwater Worldwide until that name became too associated with lethal lawless cowboys, unrestrained, unregulated, uncounted, murdering civilians in Iraq. 
When Blackwater became an embarrassment for the United States, Eric Prince changed the name of his private army. But Blackwater by any another name is still a lethal and uncontrolled threat.
To me, they represent the most lethal form of cancer a body politic could have. No one in our government controls them. They are not part of the government, we do not control them but we pay for them.
Wikipedia tells us that “Blackwater USA was formed in 1990 to provide training support to military and law enforcement organizations.” The part of that simple statement that takes my breath away is the “…law enforcement organizations”.  I imagine by now they are everywhere. 
A private army embedded in our body politic is a dangerous thing.
In a time of economic difficulties where corporations are bigger than countries and authoritarianism is on the rise, a private army training 40,000 people a year to embed our law enforcement agencies (but not playing by the same rules) is insanely dangerous to the security of our country.
Fascism with a private army is a time bomb within and it’’s ticking.

Mosque Madness

Fighting Like Cats and Dogs

Bob is obviously quite relaxed with Marley.  They sleep together often.  But when they play with each other it looks like Marley is going to kill Bob.  Marley's long mouth is open wide like an Alligator and she seems to be trying to gnaw through Bob's throat.  Bob's arms are either softly embracing Marley or Bob looks dead: limp on his back, legs splayed, tail relaxed. Then Marley switches her attention to taking Bob's mouth and nose into her gnawing jaws.  She makes a moaning kind of vocalization.  Bob occasionally squawks.  I make Marley back off and Bob pounces on the obedient Doxie, doing all the same things to Marley that were done to him.

Bob will walk away like a matador, then turn with his ears back and flat, whirl and make a run at Marley. Sometimes he attacks and sometimes he just pretends to attack.  It's a very engaging play.  I wish I could film them.

Sanctify This!

Religious freedom is supposedly the reason you descendants of the English came to this continent in the first place.  It is the First Amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America: Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.<sup>[1] 


And yet, the GOPers want to deny Muslims the right to build a Mosque in lower Manhatten.  They want to make it a campaign issue in the upcoming mid-term elections.  So we have an oportunity to talk about all religions.  As an atheist I think they're all bunk, but I would, as a citizen of this country, defend your right to believe whatever bunk you want in the name of "God" and call it religion.  I don't think any of you deserve tax exempt status just because you call the space you "worship" in a Church.  But, I don't have the power or the right to deny you a status you claim as a religious organization.  I don't want you building a Church in my neighborhood, but if you own the property and have the money to do it, you can build your Church Of The Christian Holy Mumbo Jumbo any place you want.  But you Republicans want to deny this freedom to American Muslims.  Notice that I said, "American Muslims?" How do you justify this bigotry and call yourselves Christian or American?


White people on the political right seem to have forgotten American History.  This seems to me to be a failure of our education system that so many white folks graduated from High School without learning anything about the founding of this country and the establishment of our government.  Tea Partiers need a remedial course in the Constitution.  The Second Amendment seems to be the only Amendment that makes sense to the far right, and yet they claim liberals want to destroy the Constitution.  It's a kind of mass projection to blame your opponant or competeter of that sin which you commit.  If you Christians hold any document sacred, it ought to be the document that guarantees you your religious freedom.  Just remember it also gives the same rights to anyone from any culture who has become a citizen of this country the right to worship in a Church of their choosing.</sup>

The Well Is Empty

I feel I have nothing to say. If someone asks me a question about politics, I can answer it,  but I can't write about it anymore.  It's just as well since there are a million things that need doing in my domestic life.  The yard's too big and too much for me to handle alone.  I wish the boys would step up to the plate and help out a bit but it isn't going to happen.  They're into sports in a big way and into their girlfriends, which is as it should be.  I'm so glad to be rid of the black cloud that was the couple before the boys, so I do the minimum necessary to keep the trees alive and don't water the lawn much because I'd just have to mow more often if I kept it greened up.  All my neighbors have taken out the grass on their parking strips and have zeroscaped.  It's the smart thing to do, and I plan on doing it every year, but just don't get around to it.  Maybe next Spring.  But now it's time to get the yard and garden ready for Fall and then Winter.  It will be a lot of work for the next three months. I have so many trees and none of them are on the same leaf drop schedule.  It all begins with the biggest tree in my urban forest and for two months I'll be cleaning up leaves.

I worked pretty steadily on enlarging my walkway and patio space back here, around the gazebo, until it got too hot and then I moved inside and stopped doing anything as I got my Facebook addiction up to the level of my Twitter addiction.  Cyrus died, Roscoe moved to Savannah, and then Bob showed up.  I'm happy to have a cat again.  I didn't realize how much I've missed having a cat.  Now I want to get or make a big scratching pole for Bob. I'm also happy not to have to pick up fifty pounds of dog shit a week. I'm glad I no longer have the big Vet bills that taking care of Cyrus generated.  He had so many health problems.  And yet, there isn't a day that I don't look at Cyrus' bed area expecting him to be there and most days it feels as if he's still with us.  He and Roscoe ate mass quantities of dog food.  Marley and Bob are very dainty eaters in comparison.  Well, Marley isn't exactly a dainty eater, but you know what I mean.