Light and Darkness

Early COD Gets the Worm?

I have opened every day for the last couple of weeks and every day I encounter this type of COD. But lately, they have become increasing annoying and seem to have multiplied.

Let me pose this question: would you ever walk into a bank's lobby thirty minutes before it opens, ask the employees if it's open, and then say to them, "I'll just walk around and look at things" or "I'll just sit over here until you're open?" No? Really? Doesn't seem like a thing one should do? Would you do the same thing at a store in the mall? At a restaurant before open hours?

So, why in heaven's sake would you do it at my place of business? Seriously -  when I say we're not open, it's not an invitation to come on in and make yourself at home like you're my real daddy's Appalachian kinfolk. And please for your safety and welfare, don't get pissy at me because I tell you that we're not open.

I'm like Disney World, folks. I'm making magic. Let me put on my stupid Goofy head so I can do a proper meet and greet.

Veruca, The Grumpy

Here is the sweetest, mean cat that ever lived. I miss this girl. Originally taken on 07.14.06

Binder

This was originally taken on 06.28.06 using my Razr. It reminds me of architectural wonders, like the Arc de Triomphe or any arc of a suspension bridge.

In the Aftermath

Remember when I told you that my neighbor had died? Her son is having the hardest of times. It hasn't been a long time since her passing; and I know from experience that a parent's death blindsides you no matter how old you are.

Wendell is in his fifties. Just moments ago, I finished a conversation that leaves me sad. I had run outside because I heard a terrifying dog fight just outside my windows. I thought that a large stray dog had attacked Wendell's toy poodle. So, I ran out there with broom in hand to defend (tragically, a large dog had attacked and killed my neighbors' dog JJ just last week. He was a small dachshund, chihuahua mix) the poor thing. I heard Wendell and called out to make sure everything was OK.

He's not well. He drinks quite heavily. He did before his mom died; and since her death, alcohol seems to be the only thing soothing his broken heart. He said tonight that he wishes he had died with his mom. He said he won't commit suicide but he wishes he could die right now. I wish I could make things better. I told him as much. If I had the answers to happiness, surely I would share.

Wendell has no close family left. His father died a decade ago. His brother died about seven years ago. And now his mother is gone. He's not close to his mother's family who seem to be the only ones left for him. He has even told me that they don't even know that Marjorie has died because Marjorie never wanted to speak to them again.

How do you make things better for him?

Life seems heartless sometimes, doesn't it? People die. That's really not the problem. Death happens. You move on. But for those that have to stay and pick up afterwards? It's ridiculously hard.

Two Nice Things

In my junior high years at Guion Creek Middle School in ol' Indianapolis, we did what adolescent teens did. We made fun of those who we didn't care for. Mostly the in-crowd that didn't know we were even human. But as penance for the ill that we thought or spoke aloud, we made a pact amongst ourselves: for every horrible thing we said about someone, we had to say two nice things about the person. I guess we were trying to shake off that karma that tends to bite you in the ass when things are going right; or we genuinely felt bad about being so snotty about other people. Sometimes, we stretched to find those nice things because we weren't feeling so compassionate about those teenage rivals. Something like "Tara has two legs" would come out; and well, the other person would accept it as the compliment because we knew it was one of those type of days.

So, two nice things about this particular person I'm pissy with as of late:

1. She has a cute figure.
2. She has two legs.

Vow of Silence

I think I should seriously consider committing myself to a period of silence. No talking. Just listening and reflecting. I think...no, I know I talk entirely too much. I hate that about me. Fucking jabberjaws.

Eh....

Would a vow of silence also include no public journal entries? Probably, yeah?

Ok....how about a semi-vow of silence? Maybe give myself a full minute to ponder what I would say. Perhaps this will filter the idiocy that flows from mi boca!

Crap it all to crappers!

Hot Monkey Sex with Kevin Smith and Cinnamon Rolls

Some day last week, I woke up from a strange dream of an erotic nature. It was vivid and nasty and with Kevin Smith. At one point in the dream, Kevin was pushing forward in that missionary position and he deposited a beef flavored dog pill in my throat. At that point, I choked in my dream as well as in real time. I woke up and could have sworn I could feel that damn pill still lodged in my esophagus. And it was all so erotic.

The rest of the day, I craved cinnamon rolls. I wanted a hot, gooey cinnamon roll. Hot from an oven with sticky sweet icing dripping down its sides. ALL FREAKING DAY LONG! And I was stuck at work without a way out into the real world to find it. I had a caramel roll from Wal-Mart a day or so later. Yeah, not the same thing. It turned me off for a few days. Today? I sure do want that cinnamon roll.

Here's my question: If I eat that cinnamon roll, will I get the Big O face too? Because now, hot cinnamon rolls are strictly tied to crazy, monkey sex with Kevin Smith.

POST NOTE: I just re-read that title and boy, that's just weird. It probably should have read, "Cinnamon Rolls and Hot Monkey Sex With Kevin Smith." Now it just implies "Rutting with Pastries."

Irresponsibility, Take Two

We all know Jolie came home. Yay! Well, I took her to the vet for her yearly shots and a check-up which includes heartworm testing.

Jolie has heartworms.

Seriously, I'm hating myself more than usual right now.

Two options for treatment: 1. You give the once a month preventative treatment to stop new worms from invading your dog and just wait for the existing ones to die, which may take a couple of years. 2. You put your dog through the more difficult, more expensive treatment. That includes a two night stay at the clinic, two injections of a poison to kill the heartworms, a two week return visit for oral antiobiotics, 4-6 weeks of almost NO activity, and a retest for heartworms when it's all said and done.

Because I feel I'm the cause of this problem for not getting preventative care for Jolie in the first place, I went with number two. It's going to be a bit over $300 but doesn't the poor thing deserve it. She's in my bed as we speak because I can't handle the thought of having to lock her in her crate for the next two months. As long as it's a confined space with no stimuli, Jolie can stay there.

The worse part though is the outside time. Jolie has to be walked on a leash to potty. This is probably the definition of hell for both the dog and me. Jo loves to run when she can. And roll around in the dirt. She has problems going to the bathroom as is. She is a chore trying to get her outside. Don't know why. Again, she loves to run and roll. She hates being watched when she's out. She'll stand in place the entire time if you are there. She won't pee or anything. So, walking her on the leash is bad. She just wants to walk. She hasn't gone pee since she came home yesterday morning.

This is going to be the longest six weeks of my life.

TypePad Ate My Homework

See that little post down below? The one that has only the title? It was a sweet, little piece that has suddenly stopped existing. And I'm way too pissed to try and recall it all from memory. The sentiment is fading to try and make it what it was again.

TypePad hates me today.

Fine! I hate you too, poopoohead.

***

FUCK! It just ate the title too! You cunt!

When the Cat's Away...

My boss is going out of town for a manager's conference tomorrow. To quote him, "You're in charge" with my reaction of "Oh. Yay."

Work has consumed my life for weeks now. We've lost a couple of managers since the end of last year. I've been working six days a week, usually 10-12 hours a day. I'm enjoying what I've been working on and learning. I've enjoyed the sense of accomplishment that has come out of the work. I'm enjoying the paycheck as well.

Between January and now, I had been enjoying work. I had a new sense of being with my job. I was feeling comfortable. There was a bump in the road but I got back on track. Now, I am tired. I haven't had a day to just sleep in. My only days off have been Sunday, and I spend those with Emmaline doing things outside of the house. Tired. Really tired. I think the days at work are taking their toll on me. That and this horrid month that is hell bent on existing every freaking years. Nightmares have accompanied the ol' sleep time. Nothin new.

That and I am lonely. I seriously wish I had someone to hug me in that loving/caring/emotional/passionate way that says "I love you and am not going anywhere without you."

Well, going to finish up the online stuff and go to bed. Have a week of being in charge to do.

This Day in History

My dad died a year ago. There are moments that are difficult to manuever. I will never be able to reconcile with myself that I hadn't seen him in the year before his death. God, I regret that so very much. I regret that I couldn't fix some things between us before he had passed; that becomes the unmanueverable.

Strange thoughts since last year....Some people feel their loved ones around them after their deaths. Little signs they give or think they give. Myself? I don't feel him around at all. This makes me sad too. I think I'm still having a bad relationship with my dad even after his death; and I blame it all on me. I mean, who wants to stick around after death with someone you didn't care for that much in life?

Fuck, I wish I had fixed things with him.

I know I should let it go but I can't help but recall the day of his service. It was probably one of the most painful experiences in my life. Trying to cope with losing a parent and getting ignored by his family that seemed to have forgotten I was part of it too. And my brother whispering in my ear, "He didn't like you but he loved you." Only reinforced that things didn't end right between Pop and me.

sigh....

Today is going to be a tough day. With trying to cope with unresolved issues and having terrible dreams about Angus, it's going to be a tough day.

Pop,

I guess it fair for you to not like me. I can't deny that I had ill feelings toward you as well. I'm sorry that we didn't get our chance to fix all that. I love you. With all the power that can mean, I do love you. I pray that you are in heaven....the heaven that children never doubt exists or that adults secretly pray it does too. I hope it's magical and peaceful and eternally blissful. You are missed and thought of every day. I want to thank you again for giving me the life here in the States. Without your adoration of Mom, I would be stuck in a country much more unkind to me than what I've experienced here. So, thank you. If you're ever in my part of the world and miss me too, could you find a way to tell me because it does hurt a bit to not have you around?

I love you,

Nae.

Hasta la Fucking Vista

My computer pooped out on me last weekend. The power supply had decided that it had lived a life lying about being a powerful source of energy for the ol' PC it lived in. It had aspirations of being a daisy for so very long now that finally it cracked. It decided that why should it spend its last remaining years or months or days or so doing what it dreaded to do every freaking day. It was realistic and knew that its chance at daisiness had passed so it has now decided to try being a paperweight.

Well, I received my income tax return this week and bought a new pc with a spanking new power supply (fortunately, it's a young one and has no idea of the great freedom it actually has if it wants to be a daisy). It's a nice computer. It's got pretty things about it. BUT.......WindowsVista is pissing me off.

NOTHING IS COMPATIBLE! NO-FUCKING-THING!

Trying to figure this out. I gues the operating system has grander ideas than being an operating system.....like being a cunt!

Ok. Quick post. Love and smooches.

Homeward Bound

Jolie is home!  Yay!

She was picked up on the street next to ours by a resident. Perhaps Joe was on her way home when she got nabbed. She was taken to the pound and the employees there called me on Tuesday. From a description I had left in the lost and found book on their desk, it was established that the stray the lady turned in just may have been my dog. And it is.

She has picked a corner on the couch in the den and just chooses to sleep. She doesn't appear hurt and there are no physical signs of any trauma. I'm taking her to the vet in the next week so we'll make sure.

But, yay.....Jolie is home.