nice day

Today I feel better than I have in a while. Partly because when I accidentally grabbed a pair of shorts that haven't fit in a year and thought, "what the hell, try them on," they fit, zipped, and were comfortable enough to wear all afternoon.

I am spending a lot of time sitting, not only at the computer but also doing needlework. I've started doing some isometric exercises I made up :) which strain my legs and butt and seem to be working already. If it hurts, it must be working, right? Not to mention if I can hold the pose longer each time...

There is a tiny white moth on my keyboard, being buffeted by the winds of my standing fan. I've moved it once and it came right back. Maybe it's like a dog sticking its head out the car window, enjoying the breeze. It's watching me type.

The hummingbirds are greedy pigs. A gallon of sugar water lasts two days. Today I got at least one good picture of several of them at a feeder.

When I feel good, it seems I have nothing much to say. :)
--

I grep it.

Tried grep again today - for the first time without either looking in a book or at documentation.

th'Mr asked me to email him th'Son's address. I knew I've put it in my journal, and my journal is spread out over separate files for each month. My files are named something like 200503 (for March of this year), etc.

I cd'd into the journal directory and did:
cat 2005* | grep -i "john doe" -A 3
meaning look in every file in this dir whose name begins with 2005, for the string "(th'Son's name)" and print that line plus the 3 below it.

No, it's not a big deal, it's not a complicated command, but it's something I couldn't have plucked out of the blue a month ago, and I'm glad that I can today. :)

second thoughts on postfix, more thoughts on perl

I am wondering if, by using postfix for a single-user system, I'm not using a chainsaw to butter my bread.

I've finished chapter one of the perl tutorial. At the end it tells me to "go read my perl documentation." This is the point at which my internal engine normally stalls.

I'm totally charmed by the knowledge that if we used binary instead of decimal, we could count to 1023 on our fingers. I can't help but try it out. I get to 31 on one hand, one hand plus one finger is 63, and one hand plus two fingers is 127.

Hmmm... thus follows that eight fingers is 255, nine fingers is 511, and ten fingers is 1023 - always double plus one.

If all bugs are due to faulty math and *if* I get through the tutorial (instead of stalling by just writing about getting through it), then with my strong math aptitude I ought to become a pretty decent programmer.

That's a lot of ifs.
stall, stall, stall.

digits/	capacity/	digits/	capacity
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8	1 3 7 15 31 63 127 255	9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16	511 1023 2047 4095 8191 16383 32767 65535

woo.

google

as I mentioned last night, google is my friend.

Not only "my .muttrc" but "favorite .muttrc" "my irssi settings" "my postfix config" et cetera get good fast results when I'm just trying to get over a hump that's blocking my view of the learning curve.

It's like trying to grill out while battling mosquitoes. If I light a citronella candle to drive away the bugs I can stop swatting and concentrate on cooking.

muttrc

Mutt has been irritating me in lots of small ways. The documentation is huge and will take several thorough readings to sink in, and in the meanwhile I am straining my eyes trying to read small white text on a black background.

Today I found this lifesaver: http://www.spinnaker.de/mutt/muttrc-1.4 which I saved as ~/.mutt-example and from which I pulled several lines to configure the coloration of my muttmailbox. Much better now. When I get brave I'll explore this file more thoroughly, but for now one small irritant is gone and my concentration on other things is improved.

a perly outlook

For months I've been whining to myself, "this is too hard! I can't learn it! I don't understand anything!" in regards to the world of linux.

I've always been good at seeming to understand. This is not deliberate at all, but what I (think I) do is pick up some jargon, use it, and everyone assumes I know much more than I do. So they quit explaining things to me, and I don't ask ...because frankly, I'm usually too clueless to even know what questions to ask.

So, I think I've been going about this all wrong. Here I am, stumbling around trying to understand my linux box, when what I need to know is a programming language. Found a great tutorial today, which is here: http://learn.perl.org/library/beginning_perl/ . Well, it may be a completely shitty tutorial, what do I know? But it feels like a starting place. It feels like I finally have a square one and a direction in which to go from there.

What I'd been doing up till now is window dressing: learning vim, learning irssi, figuring out where config files are and how to config them, learning css, skipping around in the man pages... stumbling around in the dark, in other words.

I've downloaded the first three chapters in a surprisingly small .pdf format. If it's actually the breakthough I've been needing, when I can afford to I'll buy the book.

For the first time in months, I feel hopeful.

oooh, this is great :)

If you need me, I'll be going through the archives...

I'm not Lisa

I'm Lisa, who are you? by NoHomers.net

yet another survey

jury duty

In our community -our county-seat-city of 7000 nestled in our county of 20000- jury duty policy is such that we serve for six months at a time. My six months will be up the end of June. So far I haven't served; I've been called from the galley to the jury box a time or two but both times I had reasons which disqualified me.

It's a distasteful business, this deciding guilt or innocence, this determining sentence upon another, but... someone's got to do it; I'm glad I haven't had to do it yet, and I'm happy to be doing my share, just by showing up.

I'd be happier if I had better nerves. The last few years I've been better able to cope when I'm multitasking - - when I have some type of "handwork" in my hands. My first day in jury duty I was told I couldn't bring my knitting needles. Actually I wasn't *told* anything. Instead the young woman at the metal detector pulled the needles out of the sock I'd been working on. I retaliated by repeating over and over, calm but incredulous (and loudly), "I can't believe you did that," which hopefully made her feel really stupid in front of the dozens of people in the room. I haven't tried plastic circular knitting needles yet, but I think that's coming.

For the next four months I took quilt squares and pieced them.

Last week I brought a small cross stitch. One of the bailiffs saw me working on it and told me "No sewing in the courtroom!" called my needle a potential weapon and said I couldn't bring it any more.

On hearing this, a friend of mine suggested I get a really big plastic crochet hook and work on an afghan - or did I think they'd consider an Afghan a terrorist?

Some people bring books or crosswords. I sewed, because I can sew and pay attention at the same time. If I were reading, I'd not be paying attention.

how to get a lot done or at least have the illusion a lot is getting done

Make a list. Make it a numbered list. Every item has a number, but they don't need to be done in numerical order.

The first item on the list is #1) Make a list.

When I have all the items I could *hope* to get done in this one day on the list (including inconsequential items like

8)take a shower
9)make a sandwich
10)eat a sandwich and some chips )

I make the last item on the list like so:

#xx) make a new list

then I transfer everything I didn't get done from the old list to the new list AND the extra things I hadn't put on the old list but got done anyway

( call Xyzabc about yyxxqq ) and
( fold two loads of laundry )

- I put those on the new list and cross them off. and once the new list is done I can cross off

#xx) make a new list

from the old list AND

1) make a list

from the new list. So I always start off with stuff already accomplished.

This is how I reward myself with a feeling of progress for every little thing I get done. I haven't made many paper lists lately - I keep them in my head. And I haven't got much done lately.

today I yelled at a nice guy just doing his job...

This guy in a county truck pulled up by my mailbox. He had a weedeater and if previous years were any indication would have taken the grass around my mailbox to the ground (to *below* ground, to be exact) - and I yelled "Hey. Hey! HEY! Don't do that! Don't do that please! I have flowers planted there!"

He looked at the dandelions and crabgrass, and said, "around your MAILbox?"

"Uh huh."

He probably thought I was delusional, but left it alone. So yesterday I pulled up the old newspaper box (we haven't subscribed to that paper in months) and pulled everything -every blade of grass, every weed- from around the mailbox in a foot in every direction, dug some nice dirt from under my compost pile and deposited about half a wheelbarrow of that around the mailbox, then transplanted a couple of the monarda that are taking over a corner of the yard. It's a start, and not only that it's a cover-my-ass see-mister-county-worker I'm-not-nuts you're-seeing-things.

weird flu bug, or something

I think if I lived a thousand years ago I'd be a doctor of some sort, because for one thing I don't get sick often, and for another I have a -what seems almost instinctive- feel for what needs to be done in case of illness or injury.

So this bug -or whatever it is I've got- took me by surprise and threw me for a loop. About a week now. First lots of coughing & scratchy throat but no achiness, no phlegm, not congestion, no sneezing or runny nose. So I thought, "maybe some strange reaction to pollen or something?" But the pharmacist didn't seem to think so and instead of trying to help me figure out what was causing it, kept shoving "treatments" into my hands. This sort of thing makes me think we're really regressing when it comes to health care. If I know what's wrong I'll know what to do about it. Stupid man. I put his suggestions back on the shelf and thought about it some more. Got a spray for sore throat (makes my mouth taste like hospital corridors smell) and some cough drops.

Thought about mold & dust, and gave the house a thorough and long-overdue cleaning. Took vitamins. Drank bourbon with lemon and sugar. Lots of it. Now the mystery ailment retreated and I decided I'd poisoned us with dust (th'Mr was coughing too) and everything would be better with a clean house, but before long it advanced again. No fever -we've checked- but lethargy and whinyness.

Two nights now I've slept sitting up. The first night it felt like I had poison ivy in my throat whenever I laid down (not itchy, just bumpy) Got to the point what came out of my nose & throat was yellow (uh oh, need antibiotics) so I shoveled the echinacea, garlic, aspirin, and vitamin C at us several times a day, plus lots of ice water, and now we're back to clear expectorations and what sounds like smokers' coughs. I can put up with this, even though I don't smoke... Sure would be nice to know what this is all about, though.

morels

I give you today's miracle:



...and doesn't there always seem to be a miracle when you look for one?

All the morels I've found have been near, or under, old apple trees, though a cousin says he finds them near poplars. Our nights have been in the forties, with frost advisories, and our days have been in the sixties.

hummingbird in my hand

We have several cats.

Earlier today the one we call Klutz-the-Silent, because whenever she opens her mouth to yell, the noise that comes out is more like "eh" than "meow", came to me and, mouth firmly shut on several green feathers sticking out to the side, made a noise something like YOOWWWLLL. I had a hint something was up.

I replied, "Klutz, let me have it," placed a hand on her back and another under her face, and she obligingly spit the hummingbird into my hand. It flopped onto its side. For the next several minutes I carried it around in the palm of my hand, cupping the other hand over it during my trips through the house from front porch to back, blowing on the feathers to urge flight, feeling the trembling in its little body and watching the eyes blink, the head turn to see the scenery passing by.





Finally my wise husband suggested, "if it won't fly away, put it in one of your hanging flower pots."

I did this, fretted about where to hang it (finally settled on a sheltered hook on the south-facing porch, next to a feeder) and ten minutes later went back out to check on it. Gone! Yahoo!

hummingbird experience

I've heard they return to where they were born. We had several hatches here last year, and the year before that, so maybe this one knows who I am. I've rescued and tossed out a couple the cats brought in; maybe this was one or those. Or maybe not.

At any rate, as I was hanging sheets on the line this morning, one landed on the clothesline not eighteen inches away from my nose. I said something like, "Well, hey there!" and it turned to look at me. And sat there, looking at me, for another ten seconds or so. As fast as they move,ten seconds my time may be like an hour in hummingbird time. Or not.

Was a neat experience, anyway. That ruby throat looks orangey-copper up close.

...an hour or two later...

Where I sit at my computer I can look out the window and see a bluejay and robin harassing each other in the black walnut tree which is just beginning to leaf out; turn my head a fraction to the right and see the garden - where the first radishes sprang up yesterday (still waiting for the corn, the onions, carrots, peppers, melons, cukes and squash to rise above ground), and turn just a bit more to see that section of clothesline, where the same hummingbird - I assume it's the same one; this early in the season I've just seen three - sits in the same spot it occupied while keeping me company earlier today.

Life is good.

yardening

Radishes came up yesterday. I thought when we planted that we were probably late on radishes and carrots, because they do like "a little frost" but Sunday's snow seems to have pleased them. Haven't been out to the garden yet today, so I don't know if the corn or carrots or pepppers or onions or squash or cataloupe or cucumbers or marigolds or chamomille came up yet :-P yes I'm bragging.

Guess today we ought to get tomato and broccoli and cauliflower sets to replace the ones that died and I need to soak my okra seed and th'Mr needs to finish tilling up the potato patch.

it's snowing here

Eastern Kentucky.

Forsythia has bloomed. Redbud trees are in the ugly lime/rose transition period between beautiful pink flowers and beautiful green heart-shaped leaves.

Dogwood is blooming.
Fruit trees are blooming.
Sarvis dots the hillsides in frothy white patches.
There are buds on my clematis.
Maple leaves are fully open (but not yet full-sized).

And outside my south-facing window a red-banded hummingbird drinks from my feeder, the snow falling thick behind him.

Appalachian Spring?

I'm having a serious "wish I had a great digital camera" moment - but if I did, I'd still probably not have had it pointed in the right direction when the bossdaddy hummingbird drank from the back porch feeder with snow falling thick behind him.

Across the street is a young redbud still in its rose-lavender spring dress - one of the few, as most of those toward town (and out of this north-facing holler) have begun to lose their flowers and leaf out. Am I the only one who thinks their transition period --between cheerful purple/pink and pale green heart-shaped leaves-- is particularly ugly? The purple fringe surrounds a yellow-green core in a most nauseating way.

Today is April 24th. Young maple leaves are fully open but not yet grown to their full size, and from four yards away through my south-facing picture window I can see that --for a change-- both clematis bordering the smokehouse door are leafed out at the same time - I see two buds on the western-most one.

Sarvis and apple trees were in full bloom yesterday. This morning their white flowers are hard to distinguish from the snow. But the plants usually make do. It's the hummingbirds I worry about. I am going to mix a stronger batch of sugar water --closer to 1:3 sugar than my usual 1:4-- and hope the extra calories will help their tiny bodies burn hotter.

email clippings

28 March
I found out th'Son's next court date is June 30. His bond is high, so he'll be there for the duration. My daughter-in-law J's due to have H's baby sister or brother --my second grandchild-- in August or September; maybe th'Son will get "time served" on the probation violation and the rest will be dropped - so that he gets to be with his family then.

I think I'm finally clawing my way out of this depression. It's been a rough year so far, with pets dying, friends' family members dying, my son in jail and maybe headed for prison, just to hit the high points. It's really a wonder I'm not crazier than I am.

Winter is over and Spring is coming.

I'm writing again; that's always helped in the past.

31 March
Went to Lexington last night for th'Mr's 3rd appearance on the university's NPR station. Sunday back to Lex for a Limestone reading (th'Mr's one of the readers) at a coffeehouse (...commongrounds?) not sure of the name, but it's supposed to be a block from HighonLime wherever that is (or is it highonrose? highonmain?)

Anyway, "things is looking up" here too. Could be the weather or some universal biorhythm our scientists so far know nothing about nor even suspect, but yesterday was a day where everything went right.

5 April
I managed a walk in the woods yesterday, and an hours' sit in the sun, stitching at the picnic table. Tonight we're booked 5:30 to nine, and tomorrow we head to Beckley for three days. th'Mr's begun tilling the garden, and I've pulled dandelions out from among the flowers, and *thought* about mowing.

I find finishing projects gives me an emotional boost, so I'm stashing lots of almost-finished projects. So when I need a lift I can complete one. How's that for logical?

17 April
What was an SUV doing going fast enough to hit a cat --cats are alert!-- in your neighborhood anyway!?!? I am so pissed at these ignorant self-centered assholes who drive like they live in a fucking bubble.

I had a sweet little cat in Florida that got killed when someone swerved TO hit her. Witnesses told me that when they brought her to me. It took me about six months before I got another "found" cat (crying under my truck when I came out of the grocery store).

I think we need animals to love, otherwise there's no place for all that extra love to go. Giving them a good life is a good deed we do, and maybe we all --animals included-- only have so many heartbeats alloted to us. Maybe this was Beau's ~Time~ no matter where and how he'd spent the rest of his life. Take comfort. He was a happy cat.

18 April
The Southern Kentucky Book Fest was fine. We met for an "awards lunch" on Friday - we were near the door and when JBH & his wife MTH came in they sat with us - he's a wonderful poet who really knows how to ~read~ his stuff, not only write, and the one time I heard MA read from one of her novels I had to have it, right then :) Well, th'Mr didn't win the $1000 check for his novel (which we could have really used LOL) but the chicken-someItalianName was fantastic.

We stayed in a cheap little Indian-owned motel near the Corvette plant, with HBO and cable, and spent the afternoon watching the history channel. We don't have cable at home, which means we have no TV reception at home, and use the TV only for the movies we get from Netflix.

Friday night was "Authors' Reception" with open bar and more food; we got quite sloshed on good wine and th'Mr ate lots of shrimp. I'm allergic, so I took only one small nibble and was able to say the shrimp were REAL fresh. So I kept refilling his plate. The chartered bus shuttled us back to the motel.

Saturday the book fair - from nine to three. It was nice, as such things go. There are people we only see at these events, that we like quite well, so that is a real purpose of going. Sold quite a few books, met some new people we'll look forward to seeing at the next one, and th'Mr made a couple new contacts of the "come read to us and we'll pay you" variety. And I was able to piece one-and-a-half quilt patches while I sat there with him.

Bowling Green probably has more restaurants per capita than any other US city --I knew this when I worked at the Corvette plant for eleven weeks in 1996-- so we were sure to get a sack of White Castles (LOL) before we left town. It was a beautiful drive (windows down) both coming and going. Redbuds, sarvis, and even dogwood are showing their colors. Got home about dark - which is nine o'clock now.

20 April
My earliest memory is lying on my back in my crib, and my hand sailing past my face, then my hand doing the same thing again. Although I didn't have concepts for the words "right," "left," "sneak," or even "hand," I decided, after some thought, that in order for my hand to go from right to left after it had already done that once, first it would have to return from the left to the right. If I snuck it over, out of my vision, that wouldn't change the fact it had made the trip. I have no way of knowing for sure, but I think this was before I could even turn over on my own.

I remember standing in my crib, wobbly, holding on with one hand, and peeling and eating wallpaper with the other. Mom says I was five months old when that was going on.

I remember crawling into the doghouse with my grandma's dog (and my great grandma yelling at me about it) when I was almost two. I can see the dress she was wearing and the wooden spoon she was shaking at me :)

I remember LOTS from age three and four. I remember two dreams I had when I was four.

20 April
A big cloud covered the sun and I couldn't see (a real contrast to how bright it'd been) so I came inside to record the other bird call I'd been hearing:

twee-dadder twee-dadder chupchupchupchupchupchupchup
Not sure what kind of bird that is. :)
Been hearing Indian Chickens (pileated woodpeckers) all day.

I don't know if the birds are through building their nests, or still working at it, but I found a baggie full of yarn scraps --like, most under a foot long-- and scattered them up in the high dry weeds behind the smoke house.

I have spent one glorious lazy afternoon mostly away from the computer, soaking up the sun to the background noise of windchimes donging, birdcalls and the sounds the breeze makes in the treetops. Damn maple tree kept spitting its dry flowers onto me though.

I guess the only thing I've accomplished so far is washing about half of the dirty dishes and pouring the old coffee onto one of the rose bushes. If it doesn't rain tonight I'll probably drag the waterhose to the garden tomorrow.

21 April
I made it rain. Located the sprinkler, attached it to a hose, dragged it to the garden, spent ten minutes setting it up and adjusting, and within five minutes it was thundering, lightning, and I barely had time to get the dogs inside before the rain she came apouring. Left the truck window down and some groceries in the back. At least the paper towels were in the floorboard, and away from the open window. :)

I am taking a break from a rousing game of "pin the sleeve in the armhole" which may well be the hardest thing I've ever attempted.

I don't know if it's I forget that being in the woods heals me, or I don't realize I need healing.

With quiet tears and a drink in my hand (there's always a drink) I picked up that tool I still don't know the name of and pulled out a few dandelions. I don't dislike the dandelions. Their bright yellow cheers me.

forsythia, daffodil, jonquil, buttercup...

The first month of the year - I've officially decided my year begins with the Spring - the bright yellow glows from every corner and hedge, a beaming affirmation. But I was going to talk about the woods.

I dug the small handfuls of dandelions -dente lyon, lion's tooth - from the bed at the east edge of the garage, then from among Margie's Irises (forever capitalized) - I don't like iris that much myself, especially not rows of them inconveniently between the house and garden, the garage and garden, the woodpile and woodshed, "don't park there, you'll crush Mom's Irises," but I'm friendly toward flowers, so I'll do what I casually can to make their lives healthy and beautiful.

At the eastern end of the south side of the garage there's a stand of monarda, red bee balm, small clumps given me by Paula that are now (and have been, for two years) six-foot tall stalks topped with bright red pompoms. I was looking for a better modifier than "bright," but nothing adequate-yet-not-pretentious swam to the front of my mind. I'm trying to just blurt and do my correcting later --to keep the artist and editor apart-- but that'll take conscious practice. It's not something I can just *do*.

As I came near the monarda their strong lemon scent reached out to me, though right now the plants themselves resemble nothing so much as stalks of straw haphazardly standing on end. I used my ...digging stick, I'll call it... to pull a few dandelions, breathing deep my favorite perfume - citrus. I don't yet see sawtoothed oval leaves that'll herald this years' growth, but knowing the strawlike stalks are unnecessary I broke most of them off near the ground. An excuse to stay in that heady scent longer. I noticed a stalk I must have pulled instead of broken; it ended in a tiny rootball, no bigger across than my thumbnail. I was finished with the monarda, saw no pressing reason to pick up those straws and the few dandelion clumps, but instead took three of these rootclumps to the fence, behind the woodpile, under the pine and south of the black walnut, corkscrewed a hole with my digging stick and planted them. If they grow, if they grow they'll be tall and dark green, saw-toothed leaves below red pompoms, intoxicating lemon scent attracting bees and butterflies. Maybe hummingbirds too. If they grow, they'll be a casual gift to the neighbor whose fence they'll droop against. I must have still had thoughts of picking up those sticks and roots, because I wandered back to that end of the yard. The grass was green all winter; that's fescue for ya; but this weekend there's come a new dimension to the greenness. Deeper. Brighter. Fresher. My bare feet felt the green, the grass not crushed nor intimidated but welcoming the new experience of feet walking on it. Rustling noises came from the woods across the little creek. It's not really a creek, more a run-off from out of the hills. It pleases me to call it Creek. Across the creek the hill rises not more than eighty feet, steep and shaded by small trees. No grass grows on the hillside, instead generations of dead leaves form a rustling carpet over rich mulch which feeds the trees that drop the leaves. I stood still a long while but didn't see the thrasher. Not seeing makes me no less sure I was hearing a brown and white speckled bird, busy digging bugs among the leaves. I could have turned back to the house, but maybe by now my psyche had woken and was urging my feet on, on to the healing wood. As I neared the barn high-pitched yipping made me turn back to the house. The tricolor mutt stood on her hind legs against the fence, frantic because the goldbrown mutt had jumped the fence, a trick she hasn't mastered (and with luck never will). As the brown dog loped toward me, trailing her spotted tongue to one side, I stooped and picked up a rock. When I straightened and looked again, she'd turned and was heading back to the house, head and tail down. I don't think I've thrown a rock at her more than once, and certainly never hit her with one. My aim isn't what it was ten years ago. Maybe other arms have thrown other rocks. I dropped mine back to the ground, lost sight of the brown dog, but when the tricolor turned away from the fence and headed to the front yard, I knew she'd jumped back in. I like to see and hear stuff when I'm in the woods. I don't want dogs chasing everything away and kicking their own paw prints over every track in my path. I turned back toward the barn and heard a board shift as something moved across it. The grey cat looked like ours, but there are strays, and grey strays too. I called his name three times before he acknowledged me. Then he walked to the woods with me. Mosquitoes are breeding in the deeper puddles where the creek crosses the road. I thought about making a small trench, to make the water flow faster, but the mosquitoes would just lay their eggs somewhere else. I don't know what purpose mosquitoes serve. Maybe I can find dragonfly larvae and encourage them to hang around, the dragonflies eating mosquitoes while their larva eats mosquito larvae. Maybe I'll build a bat house.

I don't know why I don't walk in the woods more often when I need healing. Maybe it's because I forget.

a red haze

It's been miserable wet and chill today, enough so we didn't get any work done outside and the brush- and- cardboard pile waits to burn another time. BUT... but I see a red haze around the oaks and a yellow one around the maples that's the first hint of leafing out. Forty-degree days or no, there's no stopping Lady Spring now.

The last of the daylight's fading; I can still see a washed- denim- blue backdrop behind bare-tree silhouettes. There's a whole lotta chirping going on, but I'm not familiar with enough of the calls I can tell you what flavor bird is monopolizing the conversation. I think I'll remedy that ignorance this summer.

Didn't get a whole lot done today, but I did lop the sawbriar that's snuck into the fenced part of the yard down to the ground, and carried it to the brush-and-cardboard pile, which we'll burn tomorrow (weather permitting).

Started the weeks' worth of cooking, too, with a beef stew, a pile of "medallion" hamburgers and some chicken that's simmering now. Not sure what the chicken's going to be, yet, but with at least part of the broth I'll make "mutt-zoh balls" for the dogs. The plan is to cook two or three days in a row and graze on leftovers for a few days after that. Cuts down on the dishes that need to be washed too. :)

Well, I can't see tree outlines anymore. Full dark at seven thirty. Sure beats what was three months ago, don't it?

re-introduction, after disappearing from a USENET group

Hi all,

I was a regular here in the late nineties, but the group became a spam & flame magnet about the same time I got real busy with other things, and I drifted off for four or five years. Poked my head in here the other day and saw a few familiar faces, and it being the time of year when stuff is poppin and chirpin outside I thought I might venture back and share what observations I manage to write down from time to time.

Fortysix words and only one comma in that last sentence. No wonder I'm out of breath.

All my life the hills and mountains have called to me. Growing up, with a German mother and a father in the US army I'd lived lots of places - the stateside spots always flat and usually near the coast. Of the places I visited as a child Bavaria and Switzerland were the two I thought prettiest; Switzerland with its high wild Alps and Bavaria meaning Black Forest, hills and mostly farmland.

My dad was born in Florida and claimed that state, (he and Mom live there now), and it wasn't until I found the internet in the mid-nineties and dove into the genealogy so many of us discover in our first few miles of this information superhighway that I realized his roots were deep in Appalachia. Scott county Virginia, a place I'd never been.

When I asked it soon became clear he'd never mentioned it because to him this part of the country means outhouses, moonshiners and Beverly Hillbillies (never mind the Clampetts were from Arkansas) - a sad attitude, but he's not going to change and I've given up wasting my patience.

Anyway, finally finding a reason for my visceral attraction to the hills gave me a peace of mind that had been missing, and put an end to the wandering I'd done for most of my life. I've set foot in fortyseven states and until fifteen years ago had never lived in one spot more than thirtysix months, but over the last five years I've become so rooted it takes some need and effort to leave the porch and go to town.

I live with my husband and dogs and cats on the hilly side of Kentucky, where I've been knitting and doing other stitchery-type stuff for most of the winter, which I'll now put aside to till and plant and weed and frolic in the woods and take pictures for as long as weather and free time permit.

Where I sit typing I have windows on three sides. To the east I see a dense row of pines that lines the narrow end of our land; to the south a robin has just landed on the lowest branch of the walnut which'll be the last tree to sprout leaves, and beyond it the woods; to the west is my back porch, stacked with firewood. Beyond the porch I see jonquils in bloom on this edge of where we'll plant corn and tomatoes soon. Today it's overcast but warm; I hear chickadees fussing and windchimes gently donging, and I don't wanna go anywhere. :)

yardening; a new year

I'm a lazy gardener. Look at my yard on a good day and you'll see perennials and self-seeding annuals, a casual jumble of mostly accidental occurrences.

In early summer I'm an enthusiastic mower, enjoying the spectacle of precise paths I cut in the grass, but toward fall the anticipation has faded and I'm content to let yellowing blades grow long and bend into tufts, protecting the earth and next spring's seeds of surprise.

Late in the summer sunflowers bloom among yellowing stalks of millet wherever a birdfeeder has dribbled its overflow. Enormous bushes of calico aster soften the fence corners.

But now it's Spring, the yearly New Beginning.

We live on a dead-end road, near enough a major highway I think of planting a muffling sound barrier of shrubs yet far enough the thought hasn't much urgency. Until recently there was a twin to our house a hundred yards further down the road, another eighty-year-old farm house. I hadn't been inside this twin, but from the road, discounting paint scheme, color of shingle, and the additions made by previous occupants, it's easy to see the two houses were built from one template. This elderly twin of our house burned a couple of years ago, a controlled fire set by the land owners who had lived for some years in the new brick next to it.

I was sad to see the old house go. Standing by the fence chatting with the owners, watching the blaze, I asked if I might dig a few of the jonquils along the fence. I was told to dig anything I wanted.

It was Spring then, but later in the year than it is now, because those yellow flowers had bloomed --were still blooming, in some cases-- and I knew it was the wrong time of year to transplant. But dig them I did, not trusting the goats that would graze the yard the old house had stood in to leave the miniature daffodil clones uneaten. And planted them in a row along the street side of the picket fence which rings our yard. That was two years ago. Last year they gave me a handful of blooms. This year I anticipate a better turnout.

Last week I noticed fat green buds among every group of blades of my fire-sale jonquils, their negligible height nearly obscured by tufts of last year's unmown grasses (which lazily drape themselves through the pickets). Worried that grass and weeds would stifle my little flowers, today I took a weed-pulling prong (what ARE those things called??) and commenced to the road side of the front fence. It didn't take long to make ten feet of planting look freshly tended, but the little cleaned area made the rest of the fence look all the messier.

Our one wheelbarrow is by necessity multipurpose and had just days earlier done duty as firewood-transport. It was upended near the back porch, ready to abandon Winter chores for those of Spring. I heaped the barrow with dead grasses, twigs and dandelion roots and trundled it up the long driveway and to the compost heap out back, leaving my coffee cup by the fence so I'd return (I know me, you see). After I'd dumped the first large pile next to the compost I forked a square yard of rich dirt mixed with eggshells, potato peelings and other kitchen detrius onto it. Then I returned to the fence. Already I felt the half hours' worth of bending and raking, and scattered raindrops urged me to "finish this tomorrow," but I've left too many things unfinished lately. One more load to the compost improved the looks of our fence row, and a slight ache in my shoulders gave me satisfaction of knowing I am throwing off the Winter's lethargy to begin fresh.

In my mind the celebration of the New Year belongs more to now, in the promise of warmth and beauty and renewal, than in the cold dark wet of January.

strange Tuesday

Last night I had the strangest experience. Because of it I'm sitting here in my robe, drinking my second cup of coffee of the morning, with a doubleshot of SouthernComfort in a glass beside the coffee. I'm hoping to repeat the experience.

I'd dropped th'Mr at the new coffeeshop, where he's decided to hold his workshop for a while. From there I went to the Post Office to drop a letter to th'Son in the box, and then to Food Lion. I've collected the "six-of-eight-weeks" register receipts for my free ham :) certificate, and we needed dog- & cat-food, as we always do.

I parked the truck and walked into the store; got a cart and headed to the back of the store where the bathrooms are. The store was close to empty but I snagged a bag of potatoes to act as "placeholder" in my cart while I went into the bathroom (I'd drunk three beers in the hour or two before leaving the house, and they were done with me and ready to leave). I then looked over the produce section, replaced my potatoes with a bigger bag, got a couple of things from the candy aisle, cornstarch and olive oil from the bakery aisle, looked over the meat, not really intending to get any because it would sit in the truck for three hours till we went home --it's cool enough to do that yet, but I'd rather not-- got a twelve-pack of coke and looked for the canned ice tea th'Mr likes, and had a problem finding it in the soft drink aisle. My eyes seemed to not want to stay focused. I had left the cart sitting at one end of the aisle, so I didn't feel too foolish when it took a second trip down and back to find the ice tea, and I put it in the cart and headed for the dog- and cat-food aisle. That's when things started getting weird. My eyes really didn't want to focus on catfood cans and the prices on the shelves (they're different every week) and finally I just grabbed six four-packs of 9lives and pushed the cart to the other end, where the canned dogfood is. It was even harder to focus on it, and took real concentration to make sure I got the less expensive Food Lion brand and not Alpo. I was beginning to wonder if I ought to call th'Mr to come get me instead of driving three miles in the dark (both literally and figuratively).

Somehow I pushed the cart to where the milk is kept --I couldn't tell you what route I took-- and once again it took real concentration to pick out the quarts of half-and-half from among buttermilk and other similar-shaped packages. I was beginning to see kaleidoscopic. I saw what I was looking at with clarity, but also cheese and orange juice, which was forty feet away and behind me to the left, and also people pushing carts down aisles of canned goods. It was like I was three places at once, all in the same store, but looking in different directions. I put the milk in the cart and pushed the cart down the outside aisle of the store, which begins with eggs and biscuits, segues into breakfast meats, then juices, cheeses, beer, and finally ends in a bread cul-de-sac. I stopped at the cottage cheese and as I looked at it I also saw the frozen-fish case (sixty feet away, to my right and behind me) and the checkout lanes (sixty feet away, to my left and behind me). I saw the cashier and bagboy talking to each other at the checkout lane. All this while I was looking at the cottage cheese. Nothing was blurry; instead it was all clear but sort of ...refracted. Like a kaleidoscope with three lenses. It was absorbing, too. Trying to keep my shit together, fighting down a smidgeon of paranoia (can they tell I'm tripping? are they going to call the cops?) I pushed the cart toward the checkout lanes. Ended up in the bread cul-de-sac instead and had a hell of a time finding my way back out of it. Kept having what felt like dead-ends in front of me (a potatochip case, a donut display), and finally stopped the cart at a disposable camera, film, & battery rack and called to the cashier and bag boy (who were standing there talking to each other, just like I'd seen in the cottage cheese), "I'm going to check out, I just need to go outside and make a phone call first."

They smiled and nodded and I abandoned my cart and walked outside, feeling like a pinball bouncing off the many images that kept blocking my way. I'm glad I was in such a familiar store!

Outside there are three or four pop machines and then a couple of payphones. When I finally found my way to the phone (took a while) I couldn't remember how to make it work with my calling card (memorized, but a complicated jumping-through-hoops procedure calling out of AllTel into AT&T), and I didn't know the phone number of the coffeeshop anyway and would have to check with Directory Assistance. After four tries I gave up and went back inside.

Turning in my six-out-of-eight-weeks free ham receipts wasn't something I really wanted to do, so I didn't :) ...just put my groceries on the belt, maintained while handing over my discount card then some cash, asked for "an extra dollars' worth of change"

"Quarters okay?"

"Sure." and fled. Calmly. Back to the pay phone. Dialed information. Asked for the number. Got the number. Dialed the number wrongly while repeating the number rightly. Hung up quickly and redialed, rightly this time. Asked for th'Mr. Said, yes, I'm sure he's there. Breathed a sigh of relief when I heard his voice in the background saying, yes, that's me. Into the phone he said, "hello?"

I said, "I'm at Food Lion. You have to come get me. I think it's the higher dose of Welbutrin, maybe mixing with alcohol. I'm tripping."

He said, "_REALly_."

So I sat in the truck for ten minutes or so, waiting while Sam brought th'Mr to drive me home :) In the meanwhile a van pulled up next to me and a family spilled out, mommy, daddy, and five or six toddlers; daddy wearing a black tshirt with a loooong biblical quote on the back ewww. They seemed to want to only frolic around their van but I guess they finally went away because when I saw Sam's truck and I put my foot on the brake pedal a few times to signal "here I am!" and I looked up again they were gone. Maybe they were never there. :)

At first I said take me home, but then I thought it would be fun to sit there and pretend to knit with Sherry and Jeanne, and maybe even tell them about my excellent adventure, which seemed to be over. The kaleidoscopic action had gone away - I think dealing with the checkout and money and then the dialing of the phone brought me down. I forgot that the reason I wanted to go home was to drink another beer and make it come back... So, that's why you see me sitting here in my robe, with a cup of coffee and a glass of Southern Comfort, at this time of morning.

cat's not spoiled

Hi, I'm Roadie. Mom will tell the story of how I came by my name some other time, but for now let me tell you I am not spoiled. I just don't like to have my picture taken. When anyone sneaks up on me with a camera I sneak out the window. But mom put bubblewrap on the kitchen table and a towel on the bubblewrap, so I guess I'll lay still for just one.

konsole is kewl

why it takes me so long to answer email

100 things about me

1) I like filling out questionnaires, surveys, and silly email forwards
2) I constantly analyze everything I do, and often worry about my motives
3) I prefer cats to dogs because dogs are emotional and needy
4) I am an only child
5) I don't know off the top of my head how many times I've been arrested
6) I collect "how to" books on many subjects but rarely finish reading one
7) I've never screamed; I'm not sure I know how
8) One of the last things I turned the TV on to watch was the Berlin Wall coming down
9) The summer after I quit watching TV I was asked to participate in the Neilsen ratings
10) I haven't set foot in a Walmart since 10 October 2003
11) It really annoys me when people use nonwords like "notarary," "irregardless" and "unthaw"
12) But I think ebonics is kewl
13) I think country colloquialism is kewler
14) I think organized religion is the work of the devil and detracts from real worship
15) When I do what I consider prayer I always look at the sky
16) I fainted once, when I was twenty
17) I think I would be content living the life of a hermit or nun
18) I used to think there was a magic age when suddenly you knew all the answers.
19) I love plants, the way they sprout from seeds and turn to the sun
20) I've never believed homo sapiens is the most intelligent species on earth: we control fire & stuff because we have thumbs, not because we're smarter
21) Bugs fascinate me, especially the flying kind, and I don't believe we have an accurate idea of just how well they see with those huge complex eyes
22) I hardly ever wear perfume or makeup or jewelery
23) I don't do anything special to take care of my skin or hair
24) Some days I don't even brush my hair
25) People say I'm pretty, but I think that's just because I am tall and have long legs
26) I have tattoos and I regret getting them
27) I have contemplated suicide ever since I was age seven or so
28) I don't think I'm going to do it
29) I am anal when it comes to text - if I start putting a period at the end of these sentences I'll have to put one on every one
30) I take a foolish pride in not using a spellchecker or an html editor
31) I became a bookworm at age seven, as the result of a three-week hospital stay
32) When I was eleven years old my favorite book was the Rand McNally road atlas
33) I've never had any difficulty either reading a map or folding one
34) In 1998 I had lasik done on both my eyes - my insurance didn't cover it but I think it was well worth it
35) I wore coke-bottle-bottom glasses from the time I was seven until I got contact lenses at age fifteen
36) I have an alcohol tolerance to be proud of
37) I drink every day, except on days when I don't. I sometimes wonder if I should worry about this but it's never been a problem in any way
38) I don't have any childhood friends, because my dad was army and we moved every year
39) I have only three first cousins
40) I've never done a cartwheel
41) For much of my life I envied short petite girls and women because I felt gangly and awkward and not a bit cute. I still feel awkward, but I've gotten over the envy bit for the most part
42) I keep my eyes open underwater. This was a problem when I wore contact lenses
43) I don't own nor want a cellphone
44) I don't like to replace things until they are completely worn out
45) I don't get bored; there is too much to do!
46) I'd rather fast than exercise
47) I bought inline skates because the advertisement said, "I hate situps"
48) All my life I've wanted to be able to shrink a person and hide them in my shirt pocket, so they could see what my day was like
49) I am much more likely to cry over an animal's death than a person's
50) I was an 'A' student when I wanted to be
51) One of my strengths is being able to reword complex ideas so everyone else can understand them
52) I am mechanically inclined and can usually take things apart, fix them, and put them back together
53) I am a generous tipper
54) I got married on my parents' twentieth anniversary and my son was born the following year on my twentieth birthday
55) Although I'm indifferent to having meat in my daily diet I am not a vegetarian
56) When I really need comfort food I fry a lot of bacon and butter each piece as I eat it
57) I like to knit and crochet but I even though I'm a beginner I have a hard time restricting myself to a pattern
58) Back when I had access to them I was very good at Ms Packman, pinball, and pool
59) I get an emotional shot in the arm from finishing a project
60) It sometimes takes me years to finish a project that should only take hours
61) Cigarette smoking is the toughest addiction I've ever given up
62) After trying it in all its forms I can conclusively say I don't like cocaine
63) The main reason I hardly ever smoke pot is it changes (in unpredictable ways) the way alcohol affects me, and I'd rather drink
64) I was still climbing trees (for fun) when I was thirty
65) I've spent many hours in a tree reading a book
66) I've worked construction in many settings and I am comfortable on a construction site and in an all-male environment
67) I love heavy equipment and think a trackhoe would make a nifty lawn ornament
68) I can draw a map and/or write directions to a location so that even the most directionally-challenged person can find it
69) Sometimes I swing from total apathy to manic exuberance so fast I think I need medication
70) When I was eleven I ran away from home, taking a shower curtain and a gallon of water and a couple of books. Mom got mad when I wouldn't explain why I'd taken the shower curtain down (she didn't realize I had run away)
71) For a while, recently, I tried to "lie it forward" by adding five years to my age (to make me closer in age to most of the people I hang out with) but it was too confusing to pretend I remembered JFK getting shot
72) I've never learned the art of small talk and am usually uncomfortable and bored at parties
73) I'm not good with tact either and often blurt things I shouldn't
74) That's one reason why I'm more comfortable writing to people than talking to them
75) I usually carry a pocket knife, in my pocket
76) I usually wear denim jeans and a cotton t-shirt or sweatshirt
77) I once grew a kiwi from seed and it vined all around my porch and was pretty but never bore fruit
78) I once grew tomatoes from seeds that turned out to be hybrids, and the fruit ended up a beautiful tomato-red color but practically hollow, and with beaks
79) I hate to wear a bra and usually don't unless I'm at work
80) I'm usually barefoot when there's not snow on the ground

81) I used to wear a size ten shoe but now I wear an eleven and my feet have stopped hurting
82) I've never broken a bone
83) I still have my appendix and tonsils
84) The older I get the less likely I am to do things I don't want to
85) It often takes me several times of meeting a person before I recognize them when I see them again
86) I worry that I might hurt someone's feelings, which is weird because I'm not really fond of people in general
87) When I was a teenager I suddenly developed a shellfish allergy. I'm happy to report this doesn't include mollusks
88) I weighed 115 when I was twelve, and I thought I was very fat, when in fact I was just very tall
89) I've set foot in 47 states and 11 countries, but I don't feel like I've travelled enough
90) I've never been to Mexico, California, Alaska or Hawaii
91) I can stand extreme heat as long as I don't have to do anything more exhausting than lie on a beach towel
92) I get embarassed over stupid stuff like making a funny noise or mispronouncing a word, and I'll stay embarassed for a long time after everyone else has forgotten it
93) I was a sun-worshipper for twenty-plus years and my final tanline lasted two years after I quit sunning
94) I don't care if cats get on the counters or tables but I don't like dogs on the furniture
95) I can't forget a lot of numbers I don't need - like old boyfriend's social security numbers, drivers license numbers from when I lived in other states, and bank accounts that I closed years ago
96) Aspirin has never upset my stomach
97) Every time I see cattle I get an urge to try to sketch them
98) I think the toilet seat up-or-down fuss is silly
99) I got married in a clearing in the woods next to an old family cemetery away from all traffic noises
100) My husband and I met on USENET

why I can't have nice houseplants

note to my 24-year-old son, in response to a sixteen page letter consisting mainly of "Jesus loves me, this I know"

It's nice to hear from you, but to be perfectly honest, I skim over the religious bits, the prayer and all. I wouldn't have brought it up, but since you asked, my religious views differ from yours by a long shot. Frankly, I think yours are pretty weird, but that's okay. If it works for you, that's fine. Religion is a tool humanity uses to explain and rationalize, and to take comfort from. If you're getting comfort from your god, then it's doing its job. I've never been very impressed with christianity for myself, but, as I said, it's good for a lot of people.

I guess if you must put a label on things, my own belief is closer to a cross between Buddhism and Gaian (pagan) than any of the other organized religions I know of. These days I'm so disgusted with humankind that I'm taking the stance the Earth is a living organism and we are a virus upon her.
I hope she wins. ;-)

I tell you a big problem I have with christianity, is the whole bit about being forgiven for our sins. To me, that's an invitation to not take responsibility for our actions, which makes this world a worse place, and that in turn makes christianity evil. I've wondered if Christ is the devil...

Okay,I take back that last bit, although I have wondered, and then decided it's the people who built a religion around him who are evil, not Jesus himself. But I am serious in saying that the forgiveness bit encourages people to not take responsibility for their own actions, and this makes the world a worse place, because of the INFLUENCE of christianity. So, you may answer, without forgiveness everyone burns in hell, because who is perfect? And there you have another big problem I see in christianity: they require perfection. They require the impossible. They say if you don't completely ace this test, you're as bad as if you got every single question wrong. There you go again, this discourages people from even TRYING to be good, because everyone knows you can't be perfect, and it's perfect or nothing, so why bother trying?

I also don't like the way they changed the rules in the middle: first we're all god's children, then all of a sudden this guy Jesus is god's ONLY son, like, to a greater degree than the rest of us. But that's really a minor point.

The way I see it, Jesus was a good guy, and so was Mohammed, and a few others, who lived their lives in such way to approach perfection. They should be a model for the rest of us. That bears repeating: They should be a model for the rest of us. They should be a model for the rest of us. They should be a model for the rest of us.

But to give them actual divinity, I think there's where the fuckup begins. Now you've got a religion built around worshiping someone who walked the earth, and calling him "god," when that title ought to be reserved for the entity or whatever which first breathed life into everything, or created the stars, or whatever.

Have you read the Clan of the Cave Bear books? These ancient people worshipped Gaia, the "earth mother," whose birth waters created the oceans and rivers. What's spooky is this same story was told ALL OVER the world, way before there was much going on in the way of travel and sharing ideas between different "peoples." Yet people in Asia and the Americas and Australia and Europe and the Far East and Africa all knew this SAME story, and all had these little carved images of a hugely pregnant woman, the Earth Mother, mother of all life. How do you explain that? Maybe the spaceships touched down in threemillion BC and the space people told all the cave people all over the world the same story. I don't know. The Gaia theory makes as much sense to me as anything. This is what the belief systems of "aboriginal" people like the native americans is based on. It involves respect for all life, and acknowledges there is a fragile balance in nature which we have to take care of, and be responsible for. Like in Genesis we are made "stewards" of this world and given "dominion" over all life on it. People have twisted that to mean you can exploit it and use it up and throw it away and disrespect it and not give it a second thought. I don't think it was meant to mean that at all.

Buddhism, on the other hand, says all the souls, and god, began as one single entity, all stuck together. Then for some reason all the souls split off from the god-thing, and ever since then the object has been for each soul to reunite with the god-thing. You do this by becoming perfect, and you have an infinite (maybe) number of chances to get there. Life, or rather, "lives" is like a ladder. In some lifetimes you climb up a few rungs, in others you slip down. Sometimes you remember lessons learned - - I don't mean you know stuff when you're a little kid, but you know things in your gut which keep you on the right track. If you go with this school of thought, it's possible for ANYONE to get to the top of the ladder and once again become "one" with the god-head, as Jesus, and Mohammed, and Gandhi, and probably many many others who lived less celebrated flamboyant lives, have done.

I believe people want to be a "good guy," and when a religion tells you you CAN'T be a good guy, then out of despair or desperation or confusion or unhappiness, people do whatever's easiest, or even do "bad" things. When you're told you're not good and no matter how hard you try you'll never be good enough, how can that be a positive thing? No, I don't believe I'll ever embrace christianity.

Now aren't you sorry you asked? :)

accumulated wisdom is a compensation for aging

Advice to young women living with young men: If he complains you take too long in the shower, offer to stop shaving.

resu-MAY

In 30 years of driving I've had two speeding tickets and two minor "fender bender" type wrecks. I can drive a stick and a forklift. I've worked as a carpenter, roofer, concrete worker and completed an electrical apprenticeship, though I'd rather not work as an electrician: the union gave me the electrical training and it would be a breach of faith to use it commercially in a non-union setting.

I'm comfortable with hand-tools and light powertools, and generally can not only put back together what I take apart but can often figure out why a mechanical gadget isn't working, and fix it.

Though I've had no formal training I can troubleshoot Microsoft computer systems and have begun to teach myself UNIX.

I have good math skills and though I don't always tend to speak correctly I have editing experience and am skilled at correcting grammar, spelling and punctuation.

I can do a sort of technical writing, explaining how to do something or get somewhere, and can supplement this with diagrams.

I do not have good people skills, am not social and would hate to supervise others or work as a representative or vendor. I'm much better at expressing myself in writing than verbally.

It's 4AM and I'm downloading. Why aren't I in bed?

my minute as defense attorney

Monday, as we were leaving the courtroom, MC (th;Mr's lawyer) said something to the effect that I'd be testifying at th'Mr's trial regardless the outcome of mine. That's fine with me. Wednesday was my court date; the charge was Alcohol Intoxication. The statute, in a nutshell, says someone is guilty of A.I. if they appear in a public place manifestly (which I think means obviously) under the influence of intoxicating substances (and here's the part people forget about) to the degree they are a danger to themselves, to others, to others' property, or being a nuisance. I decided to prove I wasn't intoxicated to that degree. Actually, at first I'd planned to argue the "public" aspect of it, which I would have lost. Thanks to MC I had a copy of the statute and a bunch of notes I'd made myself.

One of the first things the prosecutor asked the cop was if there was any reason to believe I was in the vehicle unwillingly. The judge got confused at this point and asked him to clarify. I saw what he was leading up to, that I was in this "public" place, the cab of the truck, of my own free will. Aha. Pretty much all they said is I staggered and when they got me to the station I exhibited confusion when answering some questions. I cross-examined the officer, (who seems a nice enough guy, despite the despicable [haha] profession he's chosen) asking what I was doing while they arrested my husband. Right away the DA objected, and the judge began to tell me the "where" of where I was is irrelevant. I interrupted, saying, "I'm TRYING to establish I wasn't intoxicated TO THE DEGREE I was in violation of the statute, and I think my actions and behavior are VERY relevant." Of course I wasn't that articulate; I had lots of hesitations and stammerings, which could be translated as the same confusion I may have exhibited when questioned at the station. Which point I did not bring up, but maybe should have. There are a lot of points I could have made but didn't. Th'Mr says he'll be happy when I can let it go and quit second-guessing myself. Anyway, when I made it clear I wasn't going for the "I was in a private vehicle and the officers told me to get out, then I was in public, so arrest them" angle, but attacking it from a different point altogether, the judge and the DA both seemed to enjoy letting me at it. The cop seemed to be having fun too. I stuttered and stammered and shook inside and just about dropped my notes, looking through them but not seeing what was on the paper, and forgetting many of the points I wanted to make, and I didn't have any fun at all. It was frustrating, with just a few triumphant moments. Like when I said, "you have my driver license number on this paper; I wasn't carrying one; how did you get it?" and the judge helped me out (I think) by asking if the cop had asked for my license. He said, "I must have run it through the database using your birthdate," and I interrupted again, saying, "NOOOOO, the REASON you HAVE that number is I RECITED it to you when you asked for it." The judge leaned forward shaking his head, saying, "Wait a minute, you have your license number memorized!?" I said "Yes," and turned back to the cop, asking, "Is that an ability you'd expect of someone so intoxicated they're violating the statute by being out in public?" and even the DA said no. I also asked if the sidewalk outside the "old post office" on Wilson Avenue is nice and level, holding my hand at a fortyfive degree angle (he said, "yes, well, no, well, there's a bit of a slope,"), asked if I interfered in my husband's arrest, if I was cooperative in mine (the cop said yes, while the other cop, standing behind him, shook his head no) said, "I staggered; did I fall down? Did I stagger into the street? Was I trying to break things; to fight? Was I being really annoying, crying, arguing, singing?" And the cop was laughing at the singing bit, saying that wouldn't annoy him. I asked if they'd offered to let me call someone to come get me, if they even asked if I had a cell phone with me, and the cop said that no, that's not standard procedure, though if someone I knew had driven by they'd likely have let me go with them. I said, "so, standard procedure is to arrest the passengers. What if I'd been passenger in a bus, and you arrested the driver?" and Sexton seemed to not be having fun anymore when he said that was a different situation altogether. I said okay and that I was done. The DA called the other cop up and questioned him briefly. This guy is a little storm trooper nazi type, very impressed with his own importance and probably afflicted with "little man" syndrome, and he glowered at me through it all. I cross examined him only very briefly, saying, "you say I was staggering; did you happen to notice what kind of shoes I had on?" Everyone seemed startled at that question, he said, "no" and I said "that's all I have." For the record, I was wearing my favorite thin blue flat comfortable tennis shoes, without which I would have doubtless staggered much more. But I didn't tell them that. The judge asked if I wanted to summarize, which I took (incorrectly) to mean the DA would cross examine me, and I declined. Then he said, "you've obviously taken a great deal of time to prepare for this, with written notes, and I'll also take time deciding this case, and will mail you a written decision." Damn! Now instead of it being over I get to sweat it and second guess myself until he mails it. Th'Mr says I did fine; the only thing he'd have done different is he'd have summarized. Thinking it over I alternately think I blew it completely or I did just fine. I didn't do so well I expect anyone from the "audience" to ask me to represent them, but I didn't do so badly - if the judge finds me guilty he's just being mean. ;-p

Note later: He was mean.

tsunami, chernobyl, challenger

Eight days ago an earthquake caused a tsunami in the Indian Ocean. The first reports estimated twenty thousand dead. The toll is over a hundred and fifty thousand now. Mom's friend Regina was with an archaeological tour in Sri Lanka, but after a couple of tense days Uncle Dee emailed Mom the news Regina's group is safe.

When the news reports new numbers of dead th'Mr tells me. I'm not sure why.

My attitude is hard for me to explain ...this is a natural disaster. It's sad, it's too bad, but there is nobody to blame. I guess it's this attitude which has kept me ignorant of so much history. It was ten years after the Chernobyl disaster before I realized it happened the same year that the space shuttle Challenger blew up. I'd been aware of a "nuclear disaster" at Chernobyl, but it was an awareness in the abstract, like knowing there was slavery in this country before the "civil" war.

About Challenger:

I arrived in Florida on the eighteenth of January, 1986. My twentyfifth birthday was nine days later. The day after my birthday I was at work, on a construction site somewhere in Orlando, where I was working with a crew doing "cleanup." It was morning break, and the forklift operator asked me if I know how to drive one of these...

"Climb on and watch." I stood on the step, holding onto the cage of the black and yellow machine while he demonstrated the levers; left for forward, neutral and reverse, and right, which operated all the boom's functions. I liked the powerful feel of the machine, the way the large tires churned the dust.

Someone shouted, "Look!" My new teacher stopped the Cat and pointed to the eastern sky, ducking to see under the roof's gridwork. I leaned to the side and watched along with everyone else as a tiny winking silver cone shot straight up, trailed by a wide white contrail. About half way from horizon to straight up we heard a faint "boom" as the contrail split into two uneven segments - the larger two-thirds quickly dissipating to clear blue sky without varying its course, while a smaller third kept its white clarity but described an arc back toward the earth, nearly completing a semicircle before it, too, faded. I heard someone say, "I hope it's not the Russians."

"What is it?" I asked. I hadn't seen a newspaper or television since I'd left Kentucky, three weeks earlier.

"The space shuttle."

"Something's wrong."

"There was a lady on board, a teacher." Bits and pieces of information trickled in and were absorbed. If I hadn't been a mere fifty miles away, been there and seen it happen, no doubt Challenger would be another abstract in my mind, like Chernobyl, like this Indonesian tsunami.

It's not that I don't want to know. I don't know why my attention doesn't stretch to what's not immediate to me. I have never been in the habit of asking questions, instead being satisfied with the input of my senses, which is often so much that I overload and shut down.

I'm not explaining well.

fast foods aw shit

Oh great - post something stating I lived on pizza and tacos and next thing in my mailbox is this:

Do you care much that greasy ol' Pizza Hut gave tens of thousands in PAC money to the GOP last year? How about the fact that Taco Bell stopped pumping out their happily toxic semirancid meatlike substances just long enough to write a fat check to the conservative Right? Isn't that weirdly fascinating, in a depressing and indigestible sort of way?

hungry for Italian groceries

When I got married at age 19 (four years, followed by 15 years of singlehood) I knew how to scramble eggs and pan-fry a steak or a hamburger. I couldn't cook potatoes because my method was put the potatoes in a pot of water, turn on high and leave the room. When the black cloud rolling through the apartment indicated the potatoes were burnt again, it was time to order a pizza. It's almost 30 years later and I am surprised to find I am a good cook... I mean, for several years my main diet was fritos & beer, english muffins, butter, swiss cheese and salami, the local fast food pizzas, take-out tacos, and chinese restaurant food. How did this happen; when did I start cooking? I dunno. But here are some recipes I never measure for, that sometimes turn out in surprising ways but are always edible and even *good* (as in, "do this again").
--------------------

notes...
all measurements are approximate; most can (and should!) be adjusted "to taste."
when I refer to a "can," I mean a standard 15 1/2 oz can.
"lb" means pound, American weight, which is approximately 450 grams
"oz" means ounce, which is 28 grams
"T" means tablespoon.
"t" or "tsp" means teaspoon.
"c" is cup, which is 112 grams dry and about 1/2 liter liquid

--------------------
spaghetti sauce

1/4 c or less oil, or no-stick spray to coat pot (I use canola oil - cheaper than olive and healthier than corn)
1 onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, chopped
2 T Italian seasoning mix - or about 1 t each marjoram & oregano, thyme, sage, basil, savory, & rosemary
1/2 tsp salt
2 cans tomatoes (I use whole tomatoes and chop them in my ultimate chopper for which I can't find a replacement lid; mine's cracked)
2 cans tomato sauce
pinch sugar
lb ground sausage (or any other meat, or meatless, what do I care)
3 T cornstarch, or 1/3 c flour

saute onions & garlic on med-high in oil or on non-stick spray till clear, add spices and cook, stirring
pour juice off tomatoes (into pot) and turn down heat to a slow boil rather than a furious one, chop tomatoes & add to pot, add a pinch of sugar (this cuts the heartburn out of the tomatoes) and all but 1/2 can of the tomato sauce.
drop the raw sausage or other meat into the sauce by approximate tablespoonfuls - the smaller the pieces, the quicker it will cook - and simmer, covered, for 1/2 hour or so. If going meatless you can simmer for 15 minutes or so. Simmer means there are bubbles, but not so many that you have to stir to keep it from sticking
when ready to eat, to thicken sauce stir the corn starch into the cold 1/2 can of tomato sauce, stir till there are NO lumps, then stir this pink result into the simmering pot & cook another 5 minutes.
serve over noodles & under parmesan.

-----------
meatloaf

2 1/2 lb ground meat
3 eggs
1 onion, chopped
tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
T worcestershire sauce
2 c leftover spaghetti sauce (or tomato sauce, or tomato juice)
2 cup dry oats (enough to get "right" consistency, see below)

preheat oven to 350
mix well, everything but the oats.
mix in oats gradually, until the mixture is no longer *glistening* wet but still clings to your hands just slightly (yes, I mix with my hands).
you should be able to handle it without coming away looking like you've been butchering.
it should hold its shape when you pile it up.

pile it into a loaf pan - it'll all fit in one.
bake at 350 for 45 minutes, then pour off the grease and bake another 10 minutes for medium, 20 for well done
if it's still rare in the middle you can microwave individual slices for a minute or two to finish cooking them

---------------------------------------------
lasagne - assemble the day before

my lasagne always turned into soup until I started doing it this way - with uncooked noodles and prepared the day before.
the soup is good too, but this way you get traditional lasagne which holds its shape when cut:

make meatless spaghetti sauce (above) because lumps of meat do not work in lasagne.
or you can use "meated" sauce as long as you chop it till it's smooth
uncooked lasagne noodles
8 oz ricotta (looks like cottage cheese)
8 oz cottage cheese
1 lb mozzarella - slices or shredded
1 c parmesan
2 T oregano

mix ricotta, cottage cheese, parmesan, & oregano together.
spread a little sauce on the bottom of the pan - just enough to cover it
a layer of noodles
a layer of ricotta mix
a layer of noodles
a layer of sauce
a layer of noodles
a layer of mozzarella
a layer of noodles
a layer of sauce
(...alternating the two cheese types and always having sauce next to the noodles)
etc, ending with a layer of sauce and then mozarella on top

cover with foil and refrigerate overnight - the noodles will absorb moisture from the sauce.

bake at 350, covered with foil, for 1/2 hour, uncovered 15 minutes more to crisp the cheese slightly

-----------------
stuffed shells

for a 13 x 9 x 2 panful:

8 lasagne noodles
smooth spaghetti sauce
ricotta mix (see above)
mozzarella

cook lasagne noodles till soft, drain, cut in half
preheat oven to 350
spread a thin layer of spaghetti sauce on the bottom of a pan - just enough to cover it
take a half noodle, spoon about a tablespoon of ricotta mix onto the middle of it, fold one side over the top, then the other. The noodle will stick to itself. Do this with each noodle and arrange them in the pan, on the sauce. Top with more sauce. Bake 1/2 hour covered, top with mozzarella, bake another 10 minutes uncovered

these are great with garlic bread and a salad with italian or caesar dressing, and the leftovers are fine cold for snacking

--------------------
chili

make spaghetti sauce as above except:
omit the chopped garlic, add another onion
instead of 2T Italian seasoning use 2T chili seasoning mix (cumin, cayenne, paprika)
add 2 cans kidney beans 15 minutes or so before thickening

one rule, three things

So now here's this blog. And why? I'll address that later, if. For now, a rule: No angst. No pre-menopausal paranoia, no "hi, I'm suicidal but you can call me Sue." Just a nice, happy blog, with nice, happy thoughts and good grammar oh fer fuck's sake, I just may puke.

That's better.

Here's the me me meme, as applied to me me me:

Three names you go by:
1. Sparky
2. Toots
3. Trip

Three screennames you have:
1. sup-sup-asl
2. typnpawz
3. meowmom

Three things you like about yourself:
1. got a brain
2. got good hair
3. got good alcohol tolerance

Three things you dislike about yourself:
1. often crappy disposition
2. paranoia makes me snoopy
3. no sticktoitiveness

Three parts of your heritage:
1. canuck
2. kraut
3. quaker

Three things that scare you:
1. four more years
2. celulite
3. evil cops

Three of your everyday essentials
1. cats
2. computer
3. yarn

Three things you are wearing right now:
1. robe
2. wedding band
3. orange sox

Three of your favorite bands/artists (at the moment):
1. REM
2. Beethoven
3. Linkin Park

Three of your favorite songs at present:
1. Handel's Messiah
2. Stray Cat Strut
3. Lay Down, by Melanie

Three new things you want to try in the next 12 months:
1. blogging/writing every day
2. keeping a good mood
3. acupuncture

Three things you want in a relationship (love is a given):
1. trust
2. communication
3. good sex

Two truths and a lie:
1. I've had an abortion
2. I've enjoyed heroin more than twice
3. I'm a high-school grad

Three physical things about the opposite sex (or same) that appeal to
you:
1. hands
2. voice
3. smell

Three things you just can't do:
1. make small talk
2. dress for success
3. finish what I start

Three of your favorite hobbies:
1. art
2. puzzles
3. nature

Three things you want to do really badly right now:
1. watch my house magically clean itself
2. eliminate walmart from the earth
3. order a pizza

Three careers you're considering:
1. inventor
2. test driver
3. assassin

Three places you want to go on vacation:
1. the orient
2. the tropics
3. the tundra

Three kids names:
1. Gabby
2. Tigger
3. Boy

Three things you want to do before you die:
1. get out of debt
2. grow Lady Godiva hair
3. Owsley acid

I am number five

What Number Are You?

this thing was kinder than I expected.

You Are the Investigator 5 You're independent - and a logical analytical thinker. You love learning and ideas... and know things no one else does. Bored by small talk, you refuse to participate in boring conversations. You are open minded. A visionary. You understand the world and may change it.

April 15 at the Folk Art Center

Tonight, April 15th 2004, I gave a half-hour "reading" at the Kentucky Folk Art Center in Morehead. I've never felt comfortable speaking in front of crowds, but a year earlier I'd volunteered to participate in the "reading series" put on by the MSU English Department, and tonight it was my turn. I'm not affiliated with the university in any way. These readings are free and open to the public. This page is from the notes I made myself of what to read when, and what to say about some of the pieces. The titles themselves are clickable links to each poem or prose piece I read.

---

I'm going to start with a disclaimer: I'm here tonight because my husband thinks I'm a writer, or thinks I oughta be, I'm still not sure which. That said, I hope you'll like some of what I'm going to read to you. I like some of it.

I prefer reading prose to poetry, so prose is also what I'd rather write, but sometimes it develops rhyme and meter without help from me.

I often write when I'm depressed
To work a burden from my chest
Or just to sort out what I'm thinking
I need to write or wind up drinking

That's a lie, I usually do both!

For a while I attended a writers' workshop. This poem came out of one of my first workshop days. (click the links as you come to them, to read along with me)

ASSIGNMENT

We write because we have Something to Say, or Something we want to Remember. But sometimes we write to forget - in order to exorcize some sort of internal demon - and until we succeed in that - perhaps simply by defining it - our writing can be confined to that ...one ...theme. Although my demon has been out of my life for nearly two decades, I just got around to writing him down last year.

HELL

If you find a piece of prose and for some reason wonder if it's mine, look to see if it has a title or a plot. If it's got either, it's probably not not mine. So, plotless, this is not a short story but maybe a vignette, is that how that's pronounced? Vignette? I was an only child, so I was reading a long time before I actually carried on conversations. I still get caught pronouncing words wrong. Like re-SPITE for RES-pit, and en-TREP-en-er instead of ahn-trop-a-NOOHR. So this is an untitled vignette.

WATER

This next poem is about depression, a place I once lived but now only visit. If you can't relate, I'm very happy for you.

DEPRESSION

This one actually has a title.
CONTRAST

This is some stream of consciousness stuff, it also has a title:

SPRING CLEANING ON APRIL 5TH

This is a story beginning, untitled:

WHEN I LEFT, I HITCHED TO FLORIDA

(If there's time, read Chapter 2, Center Line, the other vignette, Georgia, & the villanelle. End with Hecticity.)

Thank you!

a fast week

december 14-21 '3 - - a week-long total fast

Monday, Dec 15 2003
It would surprise a lot of people - maybe - to learn that I'm in fact very shy. I do hide it well, by being outspokenly opinionated. Is that why I hide in dark colors and camouflage? The party Saturday night took a lot out of me. Two hours among dressed-up strangers and I was crying by the time we got home.

I think I make excuses, like for instance Saturday most everyone was younger and thinner than me. So a seven-day fast should not only jump-start weight loss but also boost my morale, hmmm?

Day two of my "secret" fast has ended. Haven't had anything but water since about 9PM Saturday.

---

Tuesday, Dec 16th - AM
beginning the 3rd day of fast... have lost 5 lb so far, feel fine although after taking a handful of pills this morning (vitex, DHEA, vitamin C, garlic/parsley, vitamin B, 2 trimlife's, & 1 aspirin-for caffeine,) I felt mildly nauseated for a few minutes.

Th'Mr tried to feed me several times yesterday and offered to pour me a cup of coffee this morning, all of which I turned down - I don't think he realizes I'm fasting YET but it's just a matter of time. The less attention there is, the more effective it will be. The grapefruit which came in yesterday is tempting - and wouldn't hurt a thing except the "giving the digestive system a break" part of it, and I'll have to cook that turkey soon, but for now I keep on thinking, "lose 10% of total body weight in 1 week."

Yesterday I knit th'Mr a hat out of the heavy yarn I bought at Stitch Niche. It's Merino wool, so ought to be nice and warm, and last a while, if the doggy doesn't turn it into a toy. (note later: she ate it) This morning I've started my own hat from the same pattern as th'Mr's, of red wool from my friend R.

Th'Mr's gone to bank, PO, cousin F's, and the coffeeshop; in the meanwhile I'm going through the source code of the websites and saving current copies of everything. Of course I'm also playing a game of Mahjong.

---

Tuesday, Dec 16th - PM
Went in to the coffeeshop for writing/knitting workshops tonight, and had a couple glasses of the raspberry (no caffeine, no nuttin') tea. A nice change from water.

Got home & fixed th'Mr oatmeal and myself water . Need to write down what I did to the oatmeal, because he said it's the best he'd ever had:

1 3/4 c water
1 c oats
boil, stir, remove from heat, let sit covered. Ho hum the usual recipe. Then:
1T "his margerine" in a hollow in the middle, a ring of honey around the outside, a handful of raisins dropped on top, sprinkle coconut with the raisins, and (by now the butter's melted) a couple Ts whipping cream into that same hollow. Brought it to him and said, "you gotta stir this."

Wolf let me know he wanted a doggy biscuit, so, without thinking I teased him with it like I often do, nibbling on one corner of it. Thought, "this tastes pretty good!" as I gave it to him, then realized I'm NOT SUPPOSED TO BE EATING! LMAO. Brushed my teeth.

---

Wednesday, Dec 17th - AM
I don't feel good this morning, but I attribute that to lack of sleep. Got to bed at 4AM and Amos woke me with his marathon barking at 8.

I think the vitamin B is what's making me sick to my stomach.

---

Wednesday, Dec 17th - PM
Felt much better soon after writing that. Had to drive into town late this afternoon, and didn't think about "restricting my activity level" until I was already on my way. Hit the Post Office, two grocery stores, the Folk Art Center, and the gas station before I headed home, and for a moment thought I was going to faint in the second grocery. When I got home I helped th'Mr bring four wheelbarrows-ful of split firewood to the porch, and I feel just a little weak from the activity. Day four is almost over!

---

Thursday, Dec 18th - 6:30AM - nearly halfway through day five...
Not sleeping well. After a six-hour night followed by a four-hour night, falling into bed at midnight last night (as opposed to 3AM!) felt right. Popping awake at threethirty felt WRONG! LOL...

Yesterday evening I did a little low-impact yoga on the kitchen floor. Don't know if it was that, the firewood, lack of sleep or lack of nourishment, but I was achy last night and I'm achy this morning.

I am afraid I'd better cook that turkey today. When I do that, and don't eat, the fasting "secret" will have to come out. But by then I'll just have two days to go...

The dry mouth that the yoga book warned of has arrived, and I'm never without a glass of water. The book says only to sip, not to drink it like a meal, but I have a feeling my water intake is fixin' to increase, as my activity level decreases...

---

Thursday, Dec 18th - 6 PM
I feel pretty good actually, just a little light headed, but not hungry - sorta. Everything looks good to eat, but I'm not like having hunger pangs or nothing. Had a hot bath this morning and then slept another three hours.

---

Friday, Dec 19th - 10 PM
23 hours to go. I actually drove into town this morning, in the snow, because J needed books right away and th'Mr had a touch of flu, or something. I thought it was food poisoning, thought the turkey maybe sat in the fridge too long before I cooked it, so I fed him herbs and vitamins and told him to sleep.

So, the driving went okay, but when we had to go into town a second time I was glad he felt better and offered to take me. When we got home, I laid down on the couch and tried to read but fell asleep and slept HARD for three hours. I don't do that during the day very often.

I decided that "lemon-lime naturally flavored sparkling spring water" wouldn't be seen as departing from my "spring water only" directive, and if it was, who's judging this, anyway?

I seem to have come to a standstill in weightloss. Holding at minus eleven...

Tapering back into food is going to be a challenge. The temptation is going to be to taste everything immediately, and that's probably not a good idea. The plan, such as there is a plan, is to start with diluted juices. I'm craving bread, and stuffing...

---

Saturday, Dec 20th - 5PM
Had a surprising burst of energy today - I've lost count of how many loads of laundry I've folded; there's a stack of only th'Mr's t-shirts which is two feet tall... Went upstairs to look for a flour sifter I probably left in Tennessee four years ago and to bring him down some oranges, and ended up emptying three milk crates of stuff, putting books on shelves, and cleaning, up there, for an hour. Brought down the kitchen implements I got out of one of the crates and spent the next hour washing out the kitchen drawers, rearranging implements, and picking through the cookware to decide what not to keep. And sometime before noon we went to the post office and the coffeeshop.

I made an egg salad this afternoon. Not planning to eat tonight, but if I do, some of that on a slice of bread would be good. What I ought to do is go on a liquid diet for the next week, but I think th'Mr would kill me. He said today, that he'll feel a lot better when I am eating again. Had a couple mugs of "wild sweet orange" tea at the Duck today. Hot tea. It was good enough I might have to get some for home, and it took away the thirst I've kept since day four of the fast. We got home before two, and it was after four before I poured a glass of water, and that just to take vitamins with!

---

Sunday, Dec 21st, '3 1PM
Broke my fast at 7PM yesterday, with a half an egg salad sandwich. I think the first thing that hit my stomach was a piece of onion, and I felt it burn! The sandwich sat cold and hard in my stomach for half an hour, then suddenly I wanted to taste everything (what'd I tell you?). Had a bite of turkey and of ham, a spoon of stuffing & a couple bourbon balls. Half an hour later I walked into the kitchen, where th'Mr sat, eating tortilla chips and salsa. I don't even like salsa all that much (prefer french onion dip, or the hard-to-find clam dip), but I got my own bowl and took his bag.

This morning I do feel more energetic, still have a backache, but all in all no worse for wear. And I'm 14 pounds lighter!

gluttony

We ordered fruit from Florida; what's left of the first box is starting to go soft. I stood at the counter slicing the peel and the "white" out of pink grapefruit, putting cut sections into a jar and popping the occasional stray piece into my mouth.

When the microwave dinged I turned to see th'Mr sitting down to a plate heaped with turkey & oyster dressing smothered in gravy, and decided I didn't want grapefruit after all. Opening my mouth to say, "gimme a bite," I took two steps and tripped over Tick, who was sprawled in the middle of the floor as though he were an eighty pound dog and not cat weighing barely a tenth that. Tick, understandably freaked at being treated like a football, took off running. Still teetering toward the table, I pinwheeled my arms a few times and Shorty, from her usual perch atop Granddaddy Dove's wetbar took this as a sign to flee also, did a cartoon cat gallop of several paces (without going anywhere), then jumped off the bar, taking with her the two-foot-tall ceramic bear which I had almost finished repairing from its last mishap.

As I picked up pieces th'Mr, in disgust said, "just throw it away."

"But I like puzzles."

*~*~*
The snow began while I ate my own plate of holiday leftovers. Before I could rise from the table I'd dumped the quart mug I use for coffee, barely missing my lap.

*~*~*
The two inch "winter storm watch" they'd been calling for has been amended to a less severe "no accumulation," and now, sitting in the stoveroom with open windows the flurry outside *sounds* more like rain than snow. It's coming down pretty thickly, but the only stationary white I see is a tiny amount on the roof of The Green Lemon formerly known as Smudge.

Got new loan paperwork in today's mail; I still owe over six thousand on that piece of shit, but the monthly payment has dropped by a third and I'm no longer in arrears. I wish I knew of someone despicable in the market for a four-wheel-drive. I wouldn't want to unload this thing on anyone even slightly nice.

Falling snow's mesmerizing. I've pulled down the towels th'Mr uses to block the sun's glare from the monitor (no danger of sunshine today), and every time I look up something has changed. The flakes fall straight down or at an angle, or in spirals; they change directions and density, and those farther away seem to move at a slower speed. When it changes to rain I'm finally able to concentrate on the computer screen. Maybe those towels aren't about sunlight after all.

cheat day

Sunday...November 23, 2003

I got to bed just a little after midnight last night. Sometime later Roadie came in, under the covers with cold damp paws and snuggled in between us like into his personal cave. Maybe he'd been living in a cave, a tight overhang on the river where we found him, and close covered places have come to mean comfort to him. The circumstances under which he joined our clan, his name could have been, "the leaf."
* ~ * ~ *
Friday was to be our diet "cheat" day, a day looked forward to with drooling anticipation. Of course we cheat a little every day, or I would expect the willpower to depart long before the pounds did. But a whole day of fat-filled indulgences was a mouthwatering prospect we were happily planning out. We breakfasted on eggs, a platter of biscuits and sausage gravy, and decided to stop for fastfood double cheeseburgers somewhere along the way. Charlie had said he'd treat everyone to dinner in Lexington, and I hoped it wouldn't be anything healthy.

We planned to meet Charlie and the others at 5:30, prior to a 7 o'clock reading at Black Swan Books, but first th'Mr had a 3 o'clock radio interview in Louisville. Leaving home at noon (and finally, after stops for cigarettes, gas, a prescription fill, and a check deposit, clearing the city limits near 12:30) gave us plenty of time for cheeseburgers, the search for parking in a marginally familiar city, and the walk to the radio station. WFPL has been in a new location for the past five years and our contact there was justifiably proud of the station's new home. Brad gave us what he called the "nickle tour," and while th'Mr nodded admiration at massive soundboards I gaped at the black-painted pipework overhead. The precise bends and careful spacing were worth mentioning to the retired electrician at whose house we'd be spending that night.

Bill retired out of Orlando, the same local in which I started my apprenticeship. He spent a lot of years on the road, chasing the overtime, which means we've worked in the same cities (if in different years), for the same contractors, and know people in common. Th'Mr and I would never have met Bill except his wife found Bob's website and left a note in the guestbook. Soon Lorena joined the appalachian mailing list we're a part of, and the internet once again makes this small world smaller.

Supper at Ramsey's was all a cheating dieter could hope for. I had a bottle of Fosters with my vegetable hotbrown, and I couldn't begin to tell you what anyone else ate because the layer of mozzarella covering my plate had my complete attention.

From Ramsey's it's a short walk to Black Swan Books, a privately owned store in a renovated building on Maxwell. Its shelves run floor to ceiling in a random configuration, creating a maze rather than a series of rooms. A maze of mostly pre-owned books I could happily prowl for hours...

Sometimes you hold a reading and no-one comes to listen. Unfortunately this was the case on the 21st of November. We were a big enough crowd on our own to entertain ourselves and each other. Charles S read two of his novella-length poems, Bruce H gave us background on his first civil war book, and the book yet to come. Th'Mr outlined the plot of a novel he hopes to have in print this summer. It was an enjoyable evening, if it didn't go as planned.

We overnighted in Frankfort with our internet friends, wound down with bourbon and beer, slept, breakfasted, and were on our way home by noon. The truck, the older but more reliable of the two, acted like it was running on four cylinders instead of six, so we made a stop at WAP for sparkplugs, and decided to use the other vehicle until there was time to do maintenance on this one.

The plan had been to unwind, then get back on the road to meet an "old navy buddy," someone th'Mr hasn't seen in 20 years, in Huntington for dinner. But plans change, and Jan had left a message on the machine canceling.

The weather forecast called for rain, dropping temeratures, and possible snow flurries. I looked at our leaf-covered roof and clogged rain gutters, made a mental promise to deal with that before the snow came. But first the sparkplugs...

When I am at work and have a series of tasks I tend to do the hardest one first to get it out of the way. I've told people that this way the job keeps getting easier as I go along, and I thought this made sense, until an old-timer told me he does the easiest one first, because that way he's always doing the easiest one... I know if I'd started with the left rear plug, the one hidden between steering linkage and brake lines, I'd have thrown my wrench in frustration long before all six were changed out, but since the hardest one was also the only one left I did finish the job. I think my hair's grown about a foot since the last time I spent an hour under a car hood, it was in my way a lot. Th'Mr was splitting firewood against the coming of the flurries, but when I finished my task he suggested I wash my hands and we go for a test drive.

"Fine," I said. "Let's go to the dollar store and get you some windshield washer fluid.

The young girls in line ahead of me gaped at the motor smudges on my white T-shirt, at my bare feet in November.

When I got back to the truck the sun was spreading crimson streaks across the sky and th'Mr said, "we ought to get some beer and go to the Enex, watch the sun set."

"Oh, yeah! When?" "

"How about now?" he said.

The Enex cemetery is near the spot Carter and Lewis counties meet Rowan, high on a hilltop. The small family graveyard is isolated at the end of a gravel road, and it's a rare thing to meet anyone else up there. It's a good place to be when your mind craves quiet. As we bumped down increasingly narrower roads on our way north, he said, "look behind the seat, see if Shorty is still there."

"What?!" Sure enough, my traveling cat was curled on the jacket Bill had given me the night before, a lined blue windbreaker embroidered with the electrical union's emblem, and Orlando's local number.
* ~ * ~ *
"Can you pick out these threads?" he'd asked me, indicating the "Bill" monogrammed on the upper left.
"Probably ...but if not I can always tell people that was my name before the operation."

* ~ * ~ *



Shorty grinned up at me from her nest. I've never met another cat that likes to ride, that I can trust not to jump when windows are down. On my birthday in 2002 we packed the dogs and a picnic lunch and drove up to the fire trails. Shorty came with us, and when we parked the truck to hike the last half mile she trotted along with the dogs, just another member of the pack.

Daylight was fading when we pulled onto the grounds of the Enex, the last streaks of red falling from the sky and the first stars coming out. Last February's ice storm did considerable damage to the hillside, and looking around I didn't see one tree that wasn't broken. Visibilty was good; to the north and several miles away is a spot slightly higher, another to the west, but everything else is below our altitude.

I opened the 12-pack, pulled out a bottle. "what kind of lighter do you have?"

"A bic."

"Let me see it." Using my thumb for a fulcrum, I popped the bottle cap off, handed him the beer. "I haven't done this in years." I grinned. "You said you'd never seen someone open a beer with a bic." I handed him back his lighter, twisting the cap off my beer.

Shorty finished investigating gravestones and jumped onto the tailgate with us. She stared at the trees to the south and we quieted as twigs snapped in that direction. Satisfied, the little cat jumped to the roof of the truck and focused on the woods to the north. I felt cold beer working it's magic as I named stars and constellations I'd named for him before. Full dark never came; a glow to the west showed us Morehead and another to the east incredibly must be Olive Hill. "I don't think there are enough lights in Olive Hill to make that big a glow," he said. "Maybe it's Grayson. Let's go home."

Just after crossing I-64, he made a right turn onto Big Perry firetrail. This was the night before the last day of gun season, and hunters were camped in every bend of the road. Most of them waved as we drove by. Shorty slept, curled, behind the seat.
* ~ * ~ *