My latest masterpiece for the S. project:
I cannot believe she nominated me for this dumb television show. What is wrong with the way I dress anyway? Okay, let’s see, vintage dress, trustworthy Keds, my hair’s in place. . . “So, how do I look?”
They’re looking at me like I just crawled out of the sewer. That super perky host is telling them to say what they think about the way I dress, and I have to stand here and take it.
"I do not look like a moron! Look, just because you don’t—" Oh. Okay. I can’t say anything right now. I have to listen to them put me down. Stupid sister, can’t tell the difference between vintage chic and Goodwill trash. And look at her! She looks like every other tarted up 16-year-old in her high school.
What did he just say? Oh no, I’m gonna cry. Damnit all anyway!
What? Oh, great. Now they’re going to show me my clothes that they don’t like, and throw them away right in front of me.
“No, you can’t do that! I love my Keds—put those back! Don’t you dare throw those away! What? The ones I’m wearing? Hell no! Forget it. I’m not doing this—no, you can’t take that bracelet either. Give that back to me! No. No. This is over. I’m not doing this show, I’m not giving you my beautiful vintage clothes so you can throw them away.”
They love me. They really do! They want me to be happy. “Yes, I know you think you love me. But if you really loved me, you wouldn’t be trying to change everything about me. And if you truly want me to be happy, you’d leave me alone.”
They honestly think they’re doing this for my sake. They may be good at fooling themselves, but I’m not buying. “Look at yourselves! If you went into a mall, or to a club, or to any of the places you freaks hang out at, you’d find a whole bunch of people who look just like yourselves. If blending in with the crowd is what you want to do, then fine. Blend away. But I’m not like that. The people I hang out with are just as “freaky” as you say I am, and we are just fine with that. So, buh-bye now! Get out of my home!”
It took a little persuading, but they left me alone, left me my clothes and my Keds and my bracelet. My sister acted like a total snot—“Have a nice life,” she said, as she huffed out the door. My mother played the “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed” card she’s been dealing out all her life. The others from the show were a lot nicer, but I was still damn glad to see their backs as they exited.
Now, where did I put that vintage Pucci mini?
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Monday, August 28, 2006
I'm a Neutral Good GnomeBard Ranger
I Am A: Neutral Good GnomeBard Ranger
Alignment:
Neutral Good characters believe in the power of good above all else. They will work to make the world a better place, and will do whatever is necessary to bring that about, whether it goes for or against whatever is considered 'normal'.
Race:
Gnomes are also short, like dwarves, but much skinnier. They have no beards, and are very inclined towards technology, although they have been known to dabble in magic, too. They tend to be fun-loving and fond of jokes and humor. Some gnomes live underground, and some live in cities and villages. They are very tolerant of other races, and are generally well-liked, though occasionally considered frivolous.
Primary Class:
Bards are the entertainers. They sing, dance, and play instruments to make other people happy, and, frequently, make money. They also tend to dabble in magic a bit.
Secondary Class:
Rangers are the defenders of nature and the elements. They are in tune with the Earth, and work to keep it safe and healthy.
Deity:
Oghma is the Neutral Good god of knowledge and invention. He is also known as the Binder of What is Known, and is the Patron of Bards. His followers believe that knowledge reigns supreme, and is the basis for everything else that is done. They wear white shirts and pants, with a black and gold braided vest, and a small, box-like hat. All priests of Oghma are known as Loremasters. Oghma's symbol is a scroll.
Find out What D&D Character Are You?, courtesy of
NeppyMan (e-mail)
Alignment:
Neutral Good characters believe in the power of good above all else. They will work to make the world a better place, and will do whatever is necessary to bring that about, whether it goes for or against whatever is considered 'normal'.
Race:
Gnomes are also short, like dwarves, but much skinnier. They have no beards, and are very inclined towards technology, although they have been known to dabble in magic, too. They tend to be fun-loving and fond of jokes and humor. Some gnomes live underground, and some live in cities and villages. They are very tolerant of other races, and are generally well-liked, though occasionally considered frivolous.
Primary Class:
Bards are the entertainers. They sing, dance, and play instruments to make other people happy, and, frequently, make money. They also tend to dabble in magic a bit.
Secondary Class:
Rangers are the defenders of nature and the elements. They are in tune with the Earth, and work to keep it safe and healthy.
Deity:
Oghma is the Neutral Good god of knowledge and invention. He is also known as the Binder of What is Known, and is the Patron of Bards. His followers believe that knowledge reigns supreme, and is the basis for everything else that is done. They wear white shirts and pants, with a black and gold braided vest, and a small, box-like hat. All priests of Oghma are known as Loremasters. Oghma's symbol is a scroll.
Find out What D&D Character Are You?, courtesy of
NeppyMan (e-mail)
Friday, August 25, 2006
1. What book or books were special to you in your childhood?
The Anne books, by L.M. Montgomery; Adopted Jane; Little Women, Little Men, Jo's Boys; Eight Cousins; An Old-Fashioned Girl; The Peterkin Papers . . . are we seeing a pattern here? I read old books.
2. What was particularly special or memorable about those books?
I loved the strong families and the good values in the books. I don't know if I'd have identified it in those words then, but that was definitely what appealed to me. Things felt safe in those books, and I didn't feel particularly safe in my world.
3. Have you re-read any of them as an adult?
All of them, repeatedly.
4. If so, were the books as good as you remembered them?
Absolutely. I recognize Louisa May Alcott's moralizing now, when I didn't then, but then again, it makes sense to me now. I love all of those books as much as I did when I first found them.
5. What do you think about movies being made out of children's classics (like the Chronicles of Narnia, Lord of The Rings, etc.)?
I like it, if they are reasonably true to the spirit and intent of the book. I bought the DVDs of the LOTR movies and Narnia. Take the Anne books, for example. The PBS miniseries starring Megan Fellows was good. It didn't exactly follow the books, but it was true to the heart of the stories, and I loved it. There was a movie made of another of L.M. Montgomery's books, Jane of Lantern Hill, and it was absolutely atrocious!! The only thing it had in common with the book was perhaps the names of the characters. I loathed it. Not because changes were made; I realize that in the process of translating a book to a movie, things have to be changed. No, I loathed it because I felt they made the movie and put nothing of the characters that I loved so well into it.
Looking at some of the other books I've listed, I would dearly love to see movies made from them. They could be entertaining and enjoyable. The movies would never replace the books, but would be a good companion to them. Of course, I highly doubt that anyone would ever make movies of any of those books, but I can dream, can't I?
The Anne books, by L.M. Montgomery; Adopted Jane; Little Women, Little Men, Jo's Boys; Eight Cousins; An Old-Fashioned Girl; The Peterkin Papers . . . are we seeing a pattern here? I read old books.
2. What was particularly special or memorable about those books?
I loved the strong families and the good values in the books. I don't know if I'd have identified it in those words then, but that was definitely what appealed to me. Things felt safe in those books, and I didn't feel particularly safe in my world.
3. Have you re-read any of them as an adult?
All of them, repeatedly.
4. If so, were the books as good as you remembered them?
Absolutely. I recognize Louisa May Alcott's moralizing now, when I didn't then, but then again, it makes sense to me now. I love all of those books as much as I did when I first found them.
5. What do you think about movies being made out of children's classics (like the Chronicles of Narnia, Lord of The Rings, etc.)?
I like it, if they are reasonably true to the spirit and intent of the book. I bought the DVDs of the LOTR movies and Narnia. Take the Anne books, for example. The PBS miniseries starring Megan Fellows was good. It didn't exactly follow the books, but it was true to the heart of the stories, and I loved it. There was a movie made of another of L.M. Montgomery's books, Jane of Lantern Hill, and it was absolutely atrocious!! The only thing it had in common with the book was perhaps the names of the characters. I loathed it. Not because changes were made; I realize that in the process of translating a book to a movie, things have to be changed. No, I loathed it because I felt they made the movie and put nothing of the characters that I loved so well into it.
Looking at some of the other books I've listed, I would dearly love to see movies made from them. They could be entertaining and enjoyable. The movies would never replace the books, but would be a good companion to them. Of course, I highly doubt that anyone would ever make movies of any of those books, but I can dream, can't I?
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Fun With Drugs
Not that kind, silly! No, the legitimate, prescribed-by-a-doctor, supposed to be good for what ails you kind of drugs.
The MRI results show activity in the part of the brain associated with diabetes and migraines. I'm not diabetic. And I do have a history of migraines. So my doctor thinks the constant headaches are some sort of wonky migraine mutant headache thing (my words, not his). He referred me to a neurologist, and gave me a prescription for a new migraine medicine, and some pain medicine that won't make me itch.
After getting the prescriptions filled, I took the migraine medicine. I didn't take a pain pill because the pain wasn't too bad. Exactly one hour after I took the migraine medicine, I started itching. And itching. And itching itching itching over every square inch of my body. I got this ugly pimply rash all over my arms. It was agonizing and painful. I took a pain pill and some Benadryl. Then I took some more benadryl. Then I took some more Benadryl. It finally let up enough so I could catch a few hours of sleep.
I woke up 15 minutes before I had to leave for work, so I hastily threw on some clothes and raced out the door, scratching the whole time. I did my early morning reports. Check. I pulled all the credit bureau reports. Check. I did all the work that was sitting on my desk. Check. I then told my boss that I had to go back home because of a severe allergic reaction to the new medicine. I went home, stopping at the store along the way to get some liquid Benadryl, and spent the rest of the day either sleeping or scratching.
It's better today. I still have some itching going on, so I am still taking the liquid Benadryl. But I'm at work, and I'm decently clad, and don't look too awful. The rash has mostly gone away.
The headache, on the other hand, hasn't budged. No, it still is there, pulsing and pounding first on one side of my head before gradually making its way across the top of my skull and over to the other side of my head.
May I cry now?
The MRI results show activity in the part of the brain associated with diabetes and migraines. I'm not diabetic. And I do have a history of migraines. So my doctor thinks the constant headaches are some sort of wonky migraine mutant headache thing (my words, not his). He referred me to a neurologist, and gave me a prescription for a new migraine medicine, and some pain medicine that won't make me itch.
After getting the prescriptions filled, I took the migraine medicine. I didn't take a pain pill because the pain wasn't too bad. Exactly one hour after I took the migraine medicine, I started itching. And itching. And itching itching itching over every square inch of my body. I got this ugly pimply rash all over my arms. It was agonizing and painful. I took a pain pill and some Benadryl. Then I took some more benadryl. Then I took some more Benadryl. It finally let up enough so I could catch a few hours of sleep.
I woke up 15 minutes before I had to leave for work, so I hastily threw on some clothes and raced out the door, scratching the whole time. I did my early morning reports. Check. I pulled all the credit bureau reports. Check. I did all the work that was sitting on my desk. Check. I then told my boss that I had to go back home because of a severe allergic reaction to the new medicine. I went home, stopping at the store along the way to get some liquid Benadryl, and spent the rest of the day either sleeping or scratching.
It's better today. I still have some itching going on, so I am still taking the liquid Benadryl. But I'm at work, and I'm decently clad, and don't look too awful. The rash has mostly gone away.
The headache, on the other hand, hasn't budged. No, it still is there, pulsing and pounding first on one side of my head before gradually making its way across the top of my skull and over to the other side of my head.
May I cry now?
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Child Protective Services
My doctor kindly called in a prescription for some pain medication yesterday, so last night I took it the moment I got home. I had about 2 hours with no pain--yay!--before the headache started back up again. I also began to itch everywhere. I forgot that ultracet makes me itch. Not fun.
Anyway, as I lay in bed, unable to sleep and scratching every few seconds or so, my mind began going back to my sojourn with CPS. It's been almost a year since I left that job, and I still have nightmares about it. It haunts me whether I'm awake or asleep, and last night it was haunting me with a vengeance. I thought about all the different people I met and interviewed, the children I tried to help, those I was powerless to help, and those who didn't need my help.
It's such an ugly thing. There are divorce attorneys here--and, I'm sure, throughout the country--who as a matter of course in a divorce suggest their client call CPS on the other parent. Most of the time, at least in the ones I investigated, there were no issues whatsoever regarding the safety of the children. It became natural for me to see the identity of the reporter, and realize immediately that it was a divorce case. But I had to take those just as seriously as I did the other cases, because I never knew what I was going to find once I started investigating. One case the mother called in a report on the father, and I learned that it was actually the mother who was harming the child. Another time a mother called in a report on the father, and I was able to rule it out; however, in the meantime the mother had taken possession of the child and relapsed from sobriety. The father then called in a report on her, and took possession of the child before I had much opportunity to investigate. That poor child was being dragged back and forth from parent to parent, hearing each parent talk about what a horrible person the other parent was, and had no stability or safety.
When I was there, the policy was that if a worker had investigated a case on a certain family, and another report came in on that same family, the case was automatically assigned to the same worker. I suppose in theory it makes a certain amount of sense; the caseworker is already familiar with the family and the situation, has built a certain amount of rapport, and it would seem to make the investigation easier. However, when a client is outright hostile to a caseworker, it would seem to make more sense to try a different caseworker. I had one case where a beautiful young woman was allegedly using drugs and neglecting her infant. She would never go take a drug test, thus having it viewed by CPS as a positive drug test. But because she was living with her mother and stepfather, who were looking for her child, I couldn't do anything. Even though her mother didn't want her living there, and didn't want to take care of her child, I was powerless to take any action. Later on, she moved out into her own apartment, and a report was immediately called in on her. And I got it again. This time she was much more hostile, much less cooperative. We ended up having to do a removal and called the police on her. I was worried about going to court the next day, because the removal was a little iffy legally, even though it was a good one as afar as the child's safety was concerned. As it turned out, I needn't have worried. She showed up at court totally strung out, and the judge allowed the removal.
I've seen parents work harder at getting other people to provide for their families than they would have needed to work in providing for themselves. I recall one man proudly telling me that he had spent 4 hours calling around until he found a charity who would pay for his daughter's prescriptions. His daughter was under the age of 13 and had been admitted to an inpatient psychiatric hospital for suicide threats and hallucinations. Their case history was three inches thick. They had received all kinds of assistance and intensive family preservation. That child needed desperately to get out of that house. But guess what--legal wouldn't touch it. Family preservation wouldn't take it. It came down to the fact that I couldn't leave that child there, but I couldn't remove her; I couldn't leave their family without assistance, but couldn't get assistance. If that child lives to the age of 18 without either killing herself or her father, I will be astounded. And if she does live to grow up, I shudder to think of what she will do to her own children.
And then there is the other end of the spectrum. There are the parents who are working their tails off, doing everything possible to provide for their children, but don't have the skills or the support they need. They just need a little extra help. Too bad they fall outside the cutoff financial levels to receive any assistance from any of the charities I know about. And family preservation won't take their case, because there are no problems about child safety. And I can't get childcare assistance for the mother because she should be able to get help through the Victims Fund--her ex-husband, the father of the children, raped her in the sight of their oldest child, and is now in prison. But she can't get help through the Victim's Fund without letting him know where she lives, and she refuses to do that. I don't blame her. I had to rule out the allegations of abuse and neglect, and turn and walk away, leaving that family without any kind of a safety net.
I can see the faces of all these children. I see the faces of their parents, the parents who care and the parents who hurt. I remember children lying to protect their parents and parents lying out of fear. I remember the woman who swore to me that she had never used drugs in her life, of course she'd take a drug test, and it came back the dirtiest test I'd ever seen. And I had believed her. I remember the faces of the parents who used their children as weapons in divorce battles. I remember the face of the little girl who asked me if she was going to jail because she made up a story about her father. I told her that she wasn't in trouble at all, and later found out that her mother was abusing her, not her father. I remember the little girl who cried when she told me that her mother didn't love her and was going to send her away to another state to live with her father. She I was able to comfort, and the last time I saw her, after I had a long visit with her mother, she was confident and secure in her mother's love. I remember the boy who didn't believe that I truly liked Harry Potter until he asked me a series of questions about the books.
I don't think I'll ever be truly free of that job. It changed me, in ways that I don't like. I feel like there's a deep wound inside of me, something that the skin has grown over so well that you can scarcely see a scar, but inside it's festering with poison and rot.
Anyway, as I lay in bed, unable to sleep and scratching every few seconds or so, my mind began going back to my sojourn with CPS. It's been almost a year since I left that job, and I still have nightmares about it. It haunts me whether I'm awake or asleep, and last night it was haunting me with a vengeance. I thought about all the different people I met and interviewed, the children I tried to help, those I was powerless to help, and those who didn't need my help.
It's such an ugly thing. There are divorce attorneys here--and, I'm sure, throughout the country--who as a matter of course in a divorce suggest their client call CPS on the other parent. Most of the time, at least in the ones I investigated, there were no issues whatsoever regarding the safety of the children. It became natural for me to see the identity of the reporter, and realize immediately that it was a divorce case. But I had to take those just as seriously as I did the other cases, because I never knew what I was going to find once I started investigating. One case the mother called in a report on the father, and I learned that it was actually the mother who was harming the child. Another time a mother called in a report on the father, and I was able to rule it out; however, in the meantime the mother had taken possession of the child and relapsed from sobriety. The father then called in a report on her, and took possession of the child before I had much opportunity to investigate. That poor child was being dragged back and forth from parent to parent, hearing each parent talk about what a horrible person the other parent was, and had no stability or safety.
When I was there, the policy was that if a worker had investigated a case on a certain family, and another report came in on that same family, the case was automatically assigned to the same worker. I suppose in theory it makes a certain amount of sense; the caseworker is already familiar with the family and the situation, has built a certain amount of rapport, and it would seem to make the investigation easier. However, when a client is outright hostile to a caseworker, it would seem to make more sense to try a different caseworker. I had one case where a beautiful young woman was allegedly using drugs and neglecting her infant. She would never go take a drug test, thus having it viewed by CPS as a positive drug test. But because she was living with her mother and stepfather, who were looking for her child, I couldn't do anything. Even though her mother didn't want her living there, and didn't want to take care of her child, I was powerless to take any action. Later on, she moved out into her own apartment, and a report was immediately called in on her. And I got it again. This time she was much more hostile, much less cooperative. We ended up having to do a removal and called the police on her. I was worried about going to court the next day, because the removal was a little iffy legally, even though it was a good one as afar as the child's safety was concerned. As it turned out, I needn't have worried. She showed up at court totally strung out, and the judge allowed the removal.
I've seen parents work harder at getting other people to provide for their families than they would have needed to work in providing for themselves. I recall one man proudly telling me that he had spent 4 hours calling around until he found a charity who would pay for his daughter's prescriptions. His daughter was under the age of 13 and had been admitted to an inpatient psychiatric hospital for suicide threats and hallucinations. Their case history was three inches thick. They had received all kinds of assistance and intensive family preservation. That child needed desperately to get out of that house. But guess what--legal wouldn't touch it. Family preservation wouldn't take it. It came down to the fact that I couldn't leave that child there, but I couldn't remove her; I couldn't leave their family without assistance, but couldn't get assistance. If that child lives to the age of 18 without either killing herself or her father, I will be astounded. And if she does live to grow up, I shudder to think of what she will do to her own children.
And then there is the other end of the spectrum. There are the parents who are working their tails off, doing everything possible to provide for their children, but don't have the skills or the support they need. They just need a little extra help. Too bad they fall outside the cutoff financial levels to receive any assistance from any of the charities I know about. And family preservation won't take their case, because there are no problems about child safety. And I can't get childcare assistance for the mother because she should be able to get help through the Victims Fund--her ex-husband, the father of the children, raped her in the sight of their oldest child, and is now in prison. But she can't get help through the Victim's Fund without letting him know where she lives, and she refuses to do that. I don't blame her. I had to rule out the allegations of abuse and neglect, and turn and walk away, leaving that family without any kind of a safety net.
I can see the faces of all these children. I see the faces of their parents, the parents who care and the parents who hurt. I remember children lying to protect their parents and parents lying out of fear. I remember the woman who swore to me that she had never used drugs in her life, of course she'd take a drug test, and it came back the dirtiest test I'd ever seen. And I had believed her. I remember the faces of the parents who used their children as weapons in divorce battles. I remember the face of the little girl who asked me if she was going to jail because she made up a story about her father. I told her that she wasn't in trouble at all, and later found out that her mother was abusing her, not her father. I remember the little girl who cried when she told me that her mother didn't love her and was going to send her away to another state to live with her father. She I was able to comfort, and the last time I saw her, after I had a long visit with her mother, she was confident and secure in her mother's love. I remember the boy who didn't believe that I truly liked Harry Potter until he asked me a series of questions about the books.
I don't think I'll ever be truly free of that job. It changed me, in ways that I don't like. I feel like there's a deep wound inside of me, something that the skin has grown over so well that you can scarcely see a scar, but inside it's festering with poison and rot.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Update re MRI
The MRI results are in, and I have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow to discuss them. The nurse did say there are no lesions and my sinuses are clear, and I'm assuming there's no tumor, as I doubt the doctor would make me wait until tomorrow if there were. So now what?
I honestly think the headaches are a side effect of the Effexor. If my doctor concurs, I may start getting weaned off the Effexor. If so, things are going to get a whole lot worse before they start getting better.
Sucks sometimes.
Oh yeah--I also talked to Clover. Chase is out of danger, but he does have to stay in the hospital for another 2 to 2 1/2 weeks for his pulmonary tune-up. If you read the last entry Clover posted in her blog, about how tired she is, just imagine how much worse it is with a kid in the hospital for several weeks. Yikes!
I honestly think the headaches are a side effect of the Effexor. If my doctor concurs, I may start getting weaned off the Effexor. If so, things are going to get a whole lot worse before they start getting better.
Sucks sometimes.
Oh yeah--I also talked to Clover. Chase is out of danger, but he does have to stay in the hospital for another 2 to 2 1/2 weeks for his pulmonary tune-up. If you read the last entry Clover posted in her blog, about how tired she is, just imagine how much worse it is with a kid in the hospital for several weeks. Yikes!
Prayers
My best friend Clover has 5 kids. Her middle son, Chase, has cystic fibrosis. He's in the hospital right now, after having to have surgery this past Saturday to stop some hemorhaging. He is a very dear young man, and everyone who knows him is eager to keep him as healthy as possible, and on earth for as long as possible. If you believe in prayer, please remember him and his family in your prayers; if you don't believe in prayer, please send some positive thoughts their way. They need them. If you'd like to leave a note for Clover, her blog can be found here.
I haven't heard anything about the MRI yet. I anticipate that my doctor should have the results today or tomorrow. Yesterday I was in so much pain that I could hardly lift my head off the pillow. I managed to throw a turkey breast into the crockpot so we'd have something to eat, but otherwise I spent the day in bed. I am at work today, but wish I were back at home. My head's hurting horribly, and the air conditioning is inoperative here. I called and left a message for my doctor's nurse begging for even a two-day supply of something to give me some relief from the head pain while they're awaiting the MRI results.
And speaking of the MRI, that was all kinds of not fun. I managed to get through it by praying the whole time I was in that plastic tube. I felt that if I stopped praying, I'd start screaming for them to get me out of there. And there's nothing like being inside a claustrophobic plastic tube that sounds like there's a jackhammer going off just outside it to make a bad headache worse. If I ever have to get an MRI done again, I'm going to request a valium first.
Other than that, not much news to report. I was down another .6 pound at Saturday's weigh-in, for a total of 9.6 pounds gone. I have some clothes that I get to take out of my closet and put in storage, because they're too big (hooray), and need to get some clothes out of storage because they'll be fitting soon. That's a good feeling. I really want to be getting more exercise, but the head pain is so bad that I don't feel like it. Yet another reason to hope for some relief from some avenue.
I haven't heard anything about the MRI yet. I anticipate that my doctor should have the results today or tomorrow. Yesterday I was in so much pain that I could hardly lift my head off the pillow. I managed to throw a turkey breast into the crockpot so we'd have something to eat, but otherwise I spent the day in bed. I am at work today, but wish I were back at home. My head's hurting horribly, and the air conditioning is inoperative here. I called and left a message for my doctor's nurse begging for even a two-day supply of something to give me some relief from the head pain while they're awaiting the MRI results.
And speaking of the MRI, that was all kinds of not fun. I managed to get through it by praying the whole time I was in that plastic tube. I felt that if I stopped praying, I'd start screaming for them to get me out of there. And there's nothing like being inside a claustrophobic plastic tube that sounds like there's a jackhammer going off just outside it to make a bad headache worse. If I ever have to get an MRI done again, I'm going to request a valium first.
Other than that, not much news to report. I was down another .6 pound at Saturday's weigh-in, for a total of 9.6 pounds gone. I have some clothes that I get to take out of my closet and put in storage, because they're too big (hooray), and need to get some clothes out of storage because they'll be fitting soon. That's a good feeling. I really want to be getting more exercise, but the head pain is so bad that I don't feel like it. Yet another reason to hope for some relief from some avenue.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Dreaming of Yesterday
Out in East Texas, there is a good-sized wildlife preserve not too far from Caddo Lake State Park. Some of my maternal ancestors settled there; my something-great-grandmother, Rebecca Hope, ran a plantation, defied the law that forbade her to teach her slaves to read, and ran boats past the blockade during the War Between the States.
There's something to be said for returning to your roots. I haven't lived in East Texas since I was a wee thing, but as I walked around on the same land as my ancestors and kin, I felt a connection to them. I'm looking forward to meeting my great-grandmother Rebecca Hope, and telling her how thrilled I am to descend from a line of women as strong and proud and defiant as she.
There is a house there, in the wildlife preserve, out in the middle of nowhere, near one edge of the lake. It wasn't our family's house, of course--that had been torn down many, many years before. But it still drew me in. It was surrounded by lush green poison ivy and weeds and grass and trees and every other green thing. I was wearing long jeans, thick socks, and sneakers, so I joined my Uncle Lee as we braved the poison ivy and trudged across the overgrown path that led to the front porch.
The screened-in front porch held 5 or 6 metal bedsteads, their cheap and badly abused mattresses half hanging off them. The floors were coated with bird crap and the skeletons of small rodents were strewn about as well. Holding my breath to try to inhale as little of the putrid miasma as possible, I entered the living room.
It looked much the same as the screened sleeping room sans the beds, with one glorious exception. Along the wall immediately facing me there was an enormous walk-in fireplace, framed with three huge split cedar logs. Despite the decrepit condition of the whole house, the squeaky floorboards, the broken windows, the cracks and holes in the ceilings and walls, the fireplace was in exquisite condition.
As I stood and stared at the fireplace, I was whisked back 60 or 70 years. I could see a group of people talking, laughing, singing, basking in the light and warmth of a roaring fire. The house was comfortable and inviting. It had a large braided rug on the floor, comfortable chairs. There was food and drink and life and joy.
Uncle Lee and I quickly took a look through the rest of the house, observing the disgusting condition of the kitchen and the toilet, both thankful for modern plumbing. And we walked away, plodding back through the overgrown terrain, back to the 21st century.
As we drove off, I looked at the house, seeing again the vivid life it once lived. Unlike Rebecca Hope, its bones haven't been discretely laid to rest. Rather it is in the open, decomposing in the sight of those who love it. But in that decomposing it still stands tall, proud, and beautiful.
There's something to be said for returning to your roots. I haven't lived in East Texas since I was a wee thing, but as I walked around on the same land as my ancestors and kin, I felt a connection to them. I'm looking forward to meeting my great-grandmother Rebecca Hope, and telling her how thrilled I am to descend from a line of women as strong and proud and defiant as she.
There is a house there, in the wildlife preserve, out in the middle of nowhere, near one edge of the lake. It wasn't our family's house, of course--that had been torn down many, many years before. But it still drew me in. It was surrounded by lush green poison ivy and weeds and grass and trees and every other green thing. I was wearing long jeans, thick socks, and sneakers, so I joined my Uncle Lee as we braved the poison ivy and trudged across the overgrown path that led to the front porch.
The screened-in front porch held 5 or 6 metal bedsteads, their cheap and badly abused mattresses half hanging off them. The floors were coated with bird crap and the skeletons of small rodents were strewn about as well. Holding my breath to try to inhale as little of the putrid miasma as possible, I entered the living room.
It looked much the same as the screened sleeping room sans the beds, with one glorious exception. Along the wall immediately facing me there was an enormous walk-in fireplace, framed with three huge split cedar logs. Despite the decrepit condition of the whole house, the squeaky floorboards, the broken windows, the cracks and holes in the ceilings and walls, the fireplace was in exquisite condition.
As I stood and stared at the fireplace, I was whisked back 60 or 70 years. I could see a group of people talking, laughing, singing, basking in the light and warmth of a roaring fire. The house was comfortable and inviting. It had a large braided rug on the floor, comfortable chairs. There was food and drink and life and joy.
Uncle Lee and I quickly took a look through the rest of the house, observing the disgusting condition of the kitchen and the toilet, both thankful for modern plumbing. And we walked away, plodding back through the overgrown terrain, back to the 21st century.
As we drove off, I looked at the house, seeing again the vivid life it once lived. Unlike Rebecca Hope, its bones haven't been discretely laid to rest. Rather it is in the open, decomposing in the sight of those who love it. But in that decomposing it still stands tall, proud, and beautiful.
MRI
I've been having daily headaches for over a month now, and I'm just tired beyond belief about having the constant pain in my head. They range from fairly mild to excruciatingly severe. When I went to see my doctor a few weeks ago, he prescribed something for me that he thought would help relieve the pain. It didn't work. So I called again this week. He's now ordered an MRI and a referral to a neurologist. The MRI is scheduled for tonight at 5:30. I'm nervous because I'm somewhat claustrophobic.
I don't think there's anything seriously wrong with me. I just get headaches that nothing seems to alleviate. I've thought that it might be connected with the Effexor, my anti-depressant. Anyway, if you're reading this, keep me in your thoughts. Thanks!!
I don't think there's anything seriously wrong with me. I just get headaches that nothing seems to alleviate. I've thought that it might be connected with the Effexor, my anti-depressant. Anyway, if you're reading this, keep me in your thoughts. Thanks!!
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Wednesday Mind Hump
1. Do you have a true love? If so, tell us a little about him or her.
Of course I do! She's got 4 legs, is black and white, very cheerful, has the happiest smile I've ever seen, and loves to kiss me. When I come home from work, she jumps up on the bed and puts her ears back while I give her lubbies. I kiss her nose and she kisses my chin. And we snuggle together sometimes too, but she hogs the bed.
Oh! You mean my husband, not my dog? The first thing you have to know about Joe is that he likes to talk. And talk. And talk and talk and talk and talk and talk. We had been dating a month or two before he finally realized he didn't know what I thought about anything. That's because he never gave me an opportunity to say anything. But he doesn't just mindlessly talk about inane garbage. He's a deep thinker, and likes to share his thoughts with the people he loves. And he loves me. He's a brilliant musician, and has half a million guitars. I wish we had enough money so that he could have a million guitars, but we don't. He encourages me in every good pursuit; I don't think I'd have made it to my B.A. if he hadn't been pushing me when I got too tired to function. He's a good man. And I love him! And today is our temple anniversary!
2. If you don't have a true love person, I'm sure you have a true love hobby. What's your favorite activity?
My favorite activity is reading. But then if you've been reading my blog, you already know that.
3. What's your favorite romantic movie?
I don't know--I'm not too much on the romantic movies. The last romantic comedy I remember watching was Bewitched. And I'm a sap. Yes, I cried a little bit because it was so sweet and goofy. Don't hate me because I'm a dork who likes bad movies. That should make you love me even more!
Of course I do! She's got 4 legs, is black and white, very cheerful, has the happiest smile I've ever seen, and loves to kiss me. When I come home from work, she jumps up on the bed and puts her ears back while I give her lubbies. I kiss her nose and she kisses my chin. And we snuggle together sometimes too, but she hogs the bed.
Oh! You mean my husband, not my dog? The first thing you have to know about Joe is that he likes to talk. And talk. And talk and talk and talk and talk and talk. We had been dating a month or two before he finally realized he didn't know what I thought about anything. That's because he never gave me an opportunity to say anything. But he doesn't just mindlessly talk about inane garbage. He's a deep thinker, and likes to share his thoughts with the people he loves. And he loves me. He's a brilliant musician, and has half a million guitars. I wish we had enough money so that he could have a million guitars, but we don't. He encourages me in every good pursuit; I don't think I'd have made it to my B.A. if he hadn't been pushing me when I got too tired to function. He's a good man. And I love him! And today is our temple anniversary!
2. If you don't have a true love person, I'm sure you have a true love hobby. What's your favorite activity?
My favorite activity is reading. But then if you've been reading my blog, you already know that.
3. What's your favorite romantic movie?
I don't know--I'm not too much on the romantic movies. The last romantic comedy I remember watching was Bewitched. And I'm a sap. Yes, I cried a little bit because it was so sweet and goofy. Don't hate me because I'm a dork who likes bad movies. That should make you love me even more!
Monday, August 14, 2006
Hangin' out at Blogthings
| You Are Best Described By... |
 |
I thought this was oddly appropriate, since Dali is probably my favorite artist.
| You Have a Melancholic Temperament |
 Introspective and reflective, you think about everything and anything. You are a soft-hearted daydreamer. You long for your ideal life. You love silence and solitude. Everyday life is usually too chaotic for you. Given enough time alone, it's easy for you to find inner peace. You tend to be spiritual, having found your own meaning of life. Wise and patient, you can help people through difficult times. At your worst, you brood and sulk. Your negative thoughts can trap you. You are reserved and withdrawn. This makes it hard to connect to others. You tend to over think small things, making decisions difficult. |
Okay, I definitely noticed the spelling error in Blogthings' link here. Ugh!
| You Should Rule Venus |
 You are perfect to rule Venus, because you are quite emotional and volatile yourself.Your emotions change as rapidly as the weather on Venus, and both you and the planet are incomprehensible to others. While you are not a logical thinker, you are quite empathetic.You can care for and understand others, but your emotions swirl too quickly to truly understand yourself. |
What Planet Should You Rule?
Okay, that sounds pretty much like me, I suppose.
| Your Dosha is Pitta |
 You have a quick mind, a gift for persuasion, and a sharp sense of humor. You have both the drive and people skills to be a very successful leader. Argumentative and a bit stubborn, you have been known to be a little too set in your ways. But while you may be biased toward your own point of view, you are always honest, fair, and ethical. With friends: You are outgoing and open to anyone who might want to talk to you In love: You are picky but passionate To achieve more balance: Be less judgmental of those around you, and take cool walks in the moonlight. |
I don't even know what a Dosha is, and I've got too bad a headache to look it up right now. But there you go.
| You Are Teal Green |
 |
What Color Green Are You?
Friday, August 11, 2006
My To-Be-Read List
Here are some of the books on my To-Be-Read list, in case anyone's interested. If you've read any of them, let me know what you thought!
The Expected One - Kathleen McGowan
90 Minutes in Heaven - Don Piper
To the Scaffold - Carolly Erickson
Peter and the Shadow Thieves - Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson
Inkspell - Cornelia Funke
Leapholes - James Grippando
Coraline - Neil Gaiman
Peter and the Starcatchers - Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson
Shadowmancer - G.P. Taylor
Wormwood - G.P. Taylor
The Last Templar - Raymond Khouri
The Book of the Dead - Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child
The Templar Legacy - Steve Berry
Black Order - James Rollins
The Magdalene Cipher - Jim Hougan
Brethren - Robyn Young
The Last Cato - Matilde Asensi
Heretic - Joseph Nassise
Rasputin's Daughter - Robert Alexander
If You Could See Me Now - Cecilia Ahern
Lullaby - Chuck Palahniuk
Bee Season - Myla Goldberg
The Egyptologist - Arthur Phillips
Myth's, Lies, and Downright Stupidity - John Stossel
Children of the Flames - Lucette Lagnado and Sheila Dekal
I know nothing about any of these books beyond a brief blurb that piqued my fancy. I haven't checked the library yet on these ones, but am looking forward to doing so tomorrow.
The title of one of these books reminds me of my favorite conspiracy theory. Come on--don't look at me that way! You know that you have a favorite conspiracy theory, even if you don't want to admit it. Okay. So here's mine. Anna Anderson really WAS the Grand Duchess Anastasia!
Yeah, I know about the DNA results. See, the thing is, though, that there is no proof first of all that the hair found in the book really was her hair. And the samples passed through multiple hands with multiple opportunities for contamination or--dare I say it? outright substitution. I think that had the test results not made a match with Franziska Schankowska, I might have been a little less positive that there was a conspiracy. However, there is absolutely no question that there is any possible way Ms. Anderson could have been Franziska Schankowska, beginning with the fact that Ms. Anderson turned up in a canal in Berlin BEFORE Ms. Schankowska ever went missing. Furthermore, have you ever looked at pictures of the Grand Duchess and Ms. Anderson? Have you noticed that it's the same person? Even my husband, who virtually never reads a book, is convinced solely on the basis of the photographs. He said that any idiot can tell it's the same person. Additionally, Ms. Anderson's ears were identical with Anastasia's. That's not a coincidence and it's not because she had her ears surgically altered to resemble those of the Grand Duchess.
I know that of the people who know and care about this, 95% or more of them would call me one of the biggest kooks on the planet. That's okay. I don't care. I care about truth. I care about the horrible life that poor woman had and I care that her family turned their backs on her for whatever reasons they had (treason on the part of her grand uncle, who visited Russia without the knowledge and consent of his country during time of war, and the great wealth of her family that was stored abroad in foreign banks). I care that people accused her of only seeking attention and making up those dreadful stories solely for that purpose. It is obvious that this woman was haunted by ghosts and demons most of us will never have to experience. I'm glad she's at rest. I'm glad for the people who continue to seek the truth. Among them is Peter Kurth, and you can see what he has to say about it here: Peter_Kurth.
So what's your favorite conspiracy theory?
The Expected One - Kathleen McGowan
90 Minutes in Heaven - Don Piper
To the Scaffold - Carolly Erickson
Peter and the Shadow Thieves - Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson
Inkspell - Cornelia Funke
Leapholes - James Grippando
Coraline - Neil Gaiman
Peter and the Starcatchers - Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson
Shadowmancer - G.P. Taylor
Wormwood - G.P. Taylor
The Last Templar - Raymond Khouri
The Book of the Dead - Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child
The Templar Legacy - Steve Berry
Black Order - James Rollins
The Magdalene Cipher - Jim Hougan
Brethren - Robyn Young
The Last Cato - Matilde Asensi
Heretic - Joseph Nassise
Rasputin's Daughter - Robert Alexander
If You Could See Me Now - Cecilia Ahern
Lullaby - Chuck Palahniuk
Bee Season - Myla Goldberg
The Egyptologist - Arthur Phillips
Myth's, Lies, and Downright Stupidity - John Stossel
Children of the Flames - Lucette Lagnado and Sheila Dekal
I know nothing about any of these books beyond a brief blurb that piqued my fancy. I haven't checked the library yet on these ones, but am looking forward to doing so tomorrow.
The title of one of these books reminds me of my favorite conspiracy theory. Come on--don't look at me that way! You know that you have a favorite conspiracy theory, even if you don't want to admit it. Okay. So here's mine. Anna Anderson really WAS the Grand Duchess Anastasia!
Yeah, I know about the DNA results. See, the thing is, though, that there is no proof first of all that the hair found in the book really was her hair. And the samples passed through multiple hands with multiple opportunities for contamination or--dare I say it? outright substitution. I think that had the test results not made a match with Franziska Schankowska, I might have been a little less positive that there was a conspiracy. However, there is absolutely no question that there is any possible way Ms. Anderson could have been Franziska Schankowska, beginning with the fact that Ms. Anderson turned up in a canal in Berlin BEFORE Ms. Schankowska ever went missing. Furthermore, have you ever looked at pictures of the Grand Duchess and Ms. Anderson? Have you noticed that it's the same person? Even my husband, who virtually never reads a book, is convinced solely on the basis of the photographs. He said that any idiot can tell it's the same person. Additionally, Ms. Anderson's ears were identical with Anastasia's. That's not a coincidence and it's not because she had her ears surgically altered to resemble those of the Grand Duchess.
I know that of the people who know and care about this, 95% or more of them would call me one of the biggest kooks on the planet. That's okay. I don't care. I care about truth. I care about the horrible life that poor woman had and I care that her family turned their backs on her for whatever reasons they had (treason on the part of her grand uncle, who visited Russia without the knowledge and consent of his country during time of war, and the great wealth of her family that was stored abroad in foreign banks). I care that people accused her of only seeking attention and making up those dreadful stories solely for that purpose. It is obvious that this woman was haunted by ghosts and demons most of us will never have to experience. I'm glad she's at rest. I'm glad for the people who continue to seek the truth. Among them is Peter Kurth, and you can see what he has to say about it here: Peter_Kurth.
So what's your favorite conspiracy theory?
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Booking Through Thursday
Do you plan ahead for your reading? Work off of a to-be-read pile? A reading list? Or do you wing it, choose whatever you're in the mood for?
I have a huge to-be-read list. Whenever I get one of my book magazines, or get the ads for the different book clubs, I go through them carefully and add any books that pique my interest to my to-be-read list. Periodically I check the books on my list to see if any of them have been purchased by my library. Those that are available at the library then go onto my to-be-checked-out list. Eventually I get around to reading them. I also choose whatever I'm in the mood for. I go to the library about every other Saturday, and get some books from my list as well as anything that I'm currently passionately studying. A few weeks ago I was looking at the history of fashion, and had a huge stack of books on that subject checked out, along with a bunch of Anne Perry novels.
If you do plan ahead, how far ahead? Do you have two or three books waiting in queue? Or are you backed up by dozens of volumes waiting their turn?
I have a large list, to be sure; those that I can't get from the library yet are waiting in queue. The books I bring home from the library usually get read within a few days. I read *really* fast. For example, I read 2 and 1/2 Anne Perry novels (Thomas and Charlotte Pitt) on Sunday. I really could go to the library every Saturday and get a huge bag of books and have it read before the next week.
If you do not plan ahead . . . well, never? What about if you're reading a series? Or someone gives you a book for a present?
Almost no one ever gives me books as gifts. My mother will send me e-books, or give me a CD full of e-books, which I love. So that's a non-issue. If I'm reading a series, whether I stay with it depends on how interested I am in the series.
I have a huge to-be-read list. Whenever I get one of my book magazines, or get the ads for the different book clubs, I go through them carefully and add any books that pique my interest to my to-be-read list. Periodically I check the books on my list to see if any of them have been purchased by my library. Those that are available at the library then go onto my to-be-checked-out list. Eventually I get around to reading them. I also choose whatever I'm in the mood for. I go to the library about every other Saturday, and get some books from my list as well as anything that I'm currently passionately studying. A few weeks ago I was looking at the history of fashion, and had a huge stack of books on that subject checked out, along with a bunch of Anne Perry novels.
If you do plan ahead, how far ahead? Do you have two or three books waiting in queue? Or are you backed up by dozens of volumes waiting their turn?
I have a large list, to be sure; those that I can't get from the library yet are waiting in queue. The books I bring home from the library usually get read within a few days. I read *really* fast. For example, I read 2 and 1/2 Anne Perry novels (Thomas and Charlotte Pitt) on Sunday. I really could go to the library every Saturday and get a huge bag of books and have it read before the next week.
If you do not plan ahead . . . well, never? What about if you're reading a series? Or someone gives you a book for a present?
Almost no one ever gives me books as gifts. My mother will send me e-books, or give me a CD full of e-books, which I love. So that's a non-issue. If I'm reading a series, whether I stay with it depends on how interested I am in the series.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
What's cooking
Tonight I got ambitious, and actually cooked dinner, instead of making a sandwich, AND I made a dessert thingie, AND I got tomorrow night's dinner into the crockpot so that in the morning I just have to take it out of the refrigerator, put it into the electric part of the crockpot, and turn it on. Wanna know what we had/are having?
Tonight's dinner was a chicken stir-fry.
2 teaspoons sesame oil blend
1 cup thinly sliced shiitake mushrooms
3 cloves garlic, pressed
1 bag washed baby spinach
1 8-oz can sliced water chestnuts, drained
1 8-oz can sliced bamboo shoots, drained
2 teaspoons sugar
2 teaspoons soy sauce
1 cup shredded or diced cooked chicken breast
Heat the oil in a wok or large skillet. Stir-fry the mushrooms and garlic until the mushrooms are wilted. Add the spinach, water chestnuts, and bamboo shoots. Stir-fry until the spinach is partially wilted. Sprinkle the sugar and soy sauce over the mixture, and stir until the sugar dissolves. Remove the vegetables with a slotted spoon, leaving the liquid in the pan. Add the chicken and cook until the chicken is heated through. Return the vegetables to the pan and continue cooking until the spinach is the level of wilted that you like. It makes 2 large servings or 4 smaller servings; it's 2 points per smaller serving. I started some rice in the rice cooker about 15 minutes before I started this, and had it over a cup of rice. Very tasty.
The dessert thingie is a recipe I found on the WW boards. It's called caramel apple salad, but I have no idea why because it doesn't taste like caramel. It's good, just not caramel-y.
1 tub Cool Whip Free
1 20-oz can crushed pineapple, undrained
3-4 apples, diced
1 packet sugar-free fat-free butterscotch pudding mix
Put the pineapple in a bowl before you start chopping the apples. As you chop the apples, drop them into the pineapple and stir them up so they don't oxidize. After all the apples are chopped and stirred in with the pineapple, stir in the packet of pudding mix. Then fold in the Cool Whip. If you're doing WW, it's 2 points for a cup. It tastes really good. If you don't care about points or if you feel like spending them on it, adding a little coconut would be really good with this as well.
And tomorrow night's dinner is split pea soup. Why I'm making split pea soup in August in Texas is beyond me. Can I just plead that I'm ready for autumn, and leave it at that?
1 16-oz bag of split peas, rinsed, picked through, and drained
4 cups water
3 carrots, scraped and sliced
3 stalks celery, sliced
1-2 oz Canadian bacon, diced
1 can chicken broth
Dump everything into the slow cooker and heat it at low for 8-10 hours. It's 2 points per cup if you're counting points. If you're not counting or if you have points to spare, throw in a few chopped potatoes as well. Before serving, if you want to, take out about half of the soup and puree it, and then stir it back in with the remainder of the soup.
Tonight's dinner was a chicken stir-fry.
2 teaspoons sesame oil blend
1 cup thinly sliced shiitake mushrooms
3 cloves garlic, pressed
1 bag washed baby spinach
1 8-oz can sliced water chestnuts, drained
1 8-oz can sliced bamboo shoots, drained
2 teaspoons sugar
2 teaspoons soy sauce
1 cup shredded or diced cooked chicken breast
Heat the oil in a wok or large skillet. Stir-fry the mushrooms and garlic until the mushrooms are wilted. Add the spinach, water chestnuts, and bamboo shoots. Stir-fry until the spinach is partially wilted. Sprinkle the sugar and soy sauce over the mixture, and stir until the sugar dissolves. Remove the vegetables with a slotted spoon, leaving the liquid in the pan. Add the chicken and cook until the chicken is heated through. Return the vegetables to the pan and continue cooking until the spinach is the level of wilted that you like. It makes 2 large servings or 4 smaller servings; it's 2 points per smaller serving. I started some rice in the rice cooker about 15 minutes before I started this, and had it over a cup of rice. Very tasty.
The dessert thingie is a recipe I found on the WW boards. It's called caramel apple salad, but I have no idea why because it doesn't taste like caramel. It's good, just not caramel-y.
1 tub Cool Whip Free
1 20-oz can crushed pineapple, undrained
3-4 apples, diced
1 packet sugar-free fat-free butterscotch pudding mix
Put the pineapple in a bowl before you start chopping the apples. As you chop the apples, drop them into the pineapple and stir them up so they don't oxidize. After all the apples are chopped and stirred in with the pineapple, stir in the packet of pudding mix. Then fold in the Cool Whip. If you're doing WW, it's 2 points for a cup. It tastes really good. If you don't care about points or if you feel like spending them on it, adding a little coconut would be really good with this as well.
And tomorrow night's dinner is split pea soup. Why I'm making split pea soup in August in Texas is beyond me. Can I just plead that I'm ready for autumn, and leave it at that?
1 16-oz bag of split peas, rinsed, picked through, and drained
4 cups water
3 carrots, scraped and sliced
3 stalks celery, sliced
1-2 oz Canadian bacon, diced
1 can chicken broth
Dump everything into the slow cooker and heat it at low for 8-10 hours. It's 2 points per cup if you're counting points. If you're not counting or if you have points to spare, throw in a few chopped potatoes as well. Before serving, if you want to, take out about half of the soup and puree it, and then stir it back in with the remainder of the soup.
Friday, August 04, 2006
That's Just the Way It Is
"I guess she was just born that way."
"Right."
Oh gosh--I hate it when he does his Dr. Evil impression. "So you don't believe me."
"No, not so much."
"Well, then I don't think we really have much else to talk about, do we?" I'm going to smack the shit out of him in a minute, if he doesn't shut up!
"You mean, let's just agree to disagree?" He raised one eyebrow and looked down his nose at me.
"No. I mean you're an asshole! You're calling her a liar, you're calling me a liar, and you think you're so perfect and you think you know everything but you don't!" I grabbed my keys, shoved my feet back into my shoes, and picked up my purse. "I'm leaving."
He blocked my way. "No. Don't go."
"Damn it, get out of my way!" I tried to force my way past him, but he wouldn't let me go.
"I'm sorry."
"You're not sorry!"
"Yes, I am. I know you love her. I just don't understand why."
"Because she's my sister, damnit! Do you stop loving people when they hurt you, when they let you down? No! You don't. And neither do I!"
"But I saw a long time ago what she was like. I knew then that she was going to turn out bad. And you didn't listen to me. If you'd listened to me--"
"It's too late for that, isn't it? And besides, she's my sister. I was not going to turn my back on her. I couldn't. I had to believe that she could change, even though I knew it probably wouldn't happen. I hoped she would change. I hoped that moving out here, getting away from her old associations, leaving her baggage behind would help her. I can't change it, and I wouldn't do something different even if I could. Now get the hell out of my way!"
He still didn't move.
I saw the skepticism in his eyes, and it made me even madder. "I know you don't believe in all my social work bullshit, but you're wrong. Her mother was a drug addicted whore. She was a crack baby. She was moved around arbitrarily from one person to another until Mom and T adopted her when she was 5 or 6. That would mess any kid up! And I think she was sexually molested."
He rolled his eyes. "You think everyone's been sexually molested."
"No I don't, but I know that it happens a hell of a lot more often than you think. And I have good reason to think she was. The point is, what happens to a child drastically impacts the adult he or she becomes."
"But she knew right from wrong."
"Yes, she did, and she thought she was born wrong and couldn't ever be fixed. She thought she was a bad person no matter what. She thought there was nothing she could do to really change. She saw all the disapproval from the people who should have tried to lift her up, and she did her best to satisfy them and herself in the belief that she was bad. But she wasn't!"
"You know what she did."
"I know what people believe she did. I know what she has told me. And yes, I know that 98% of what came out of her mouth was nothing but lies. But no one knows what really happened. Only she does. And I'd rather give her the benefit of the doubt. I love her, damnit! She's my sister. She always will be, and I'm not giving up on her now!" I sank down onto the bed, exhausted. "We've had this exact same conversation a hundred times since she died. I'm through with it. I don't want to talk about her with you. You don't get it, and you don't get me. I'm tired of feeling guilty for loving my sister."
"I loved her too!"
"I know you did. But you've got to forgive her, and let yourself love her again."
"I don't know if I can do that."
"I know. That's why I don't want to talk about it anymore. Okay?"
He paused for a moment, and then said, "Okay."
******
This is a fictionalized account of the discussions my husband and I have had since A. died in January. He doesn't imitate Dr. Evil--thank heavens! We talk about this a lot less often than we used to. Perhaps we have just agreed to disagree. I don't care. She's my sister. I hate what she did to herself, but I will never stop loving her.
"Right."
Oh gosh--I hate it when he does his Dr. Evil impression. "So you don't believe me."
"No, not so much."
"Well, then I don't think we really have much else to talk about, do we?" I'm going to smack the shit out of him in a minute, if he doesn't shut up!
"You mean, let's just agree to disagree?" He raised one eyebrow and looked down his nose at me.
"No. I mean you're an asshole! You're calling her a liar, you're calling me a liar, and you think you're so perfect and you think you know everything but you don't!" I grabbed my keys, shoved my feet back into my shoes, and picked up my purse. "I'm leaving."
He blocked my way. "No. Don't go."
"Damn it, get out of my way!" I tried to force my way past him, but he wouldn't let me go.
"I'm sorry."
"You're not sorry!"
"Yes, I am. I know you love her. I just don't understand why."
"Because she's my sister, damnit! Do you stop loving people when they hurt you, when they let you down? No! You don't. And neither do I!"
"But I saw a long time ago what she was like. I knew then that she was going to turn out bad. And you didn't listen to me. If you'd listened to me--"
"It's too late for that, isn't it? And besides, she's my sister. I was not going to turn my back on her. I couldn't. I had to believe that she could change, even though I knew it probably wouldn't happen. I hoped she would change. I hoped that moving out here, getting away from her old associations, leaving her baggage behind would help her. I can't change it, and I wouldn't do something different even if I could. Now get the hell out of my way!"
He still didn't move.
I saw the skepticism in his eyes, and it made me even madder. "I know you don't believe in all my social work bullshit, but you're wrong. Her mother was a drug addicted whore. She was a crack baby. She was moved around arbitrarily from one person to another until Mom and T adopted her when she was 5 or 6. That would mess any kid up! And I think she was sexually molested."
He rolled his eyes. "You think everyone's been sexually molested."
"No I don't, but I know that it happens a hell of a lot more often than you think. And I have good reason to think she was. The point is, what happens to a child drastically impacts the adult he or she becomes."
"But she knew right from wrong."
"Yes, she did, and she thought she was born wrong and couldn't ever be fixed. She thought she was a bad person no matter what. She thought there was nothing she could do to really change. She saw all the disapproval from the people who should have tried to lift her up, and she did her best to satisfy them and herself in the belief that she was bad. But she wasn't!"
"You know what she did."
"I know what people believe she did. I know what she has told me. And yes, I know that 98% of what came out of her mouth was nothing but lies. But no one knows what really happened. Only she does. And I'd rather give her the benefit of the doubt. I love her, damnit! She's my sister. She always will be, and I'm not giving up on her now!" I sank down onto the bed, exhausted. "We've had this exact same conversation a hundred times since she died. I'm through with it. I don't want to talk about her with you. You don't get it, and you don't get me. I'm tired of feeling guilty for loving my sister."
"I loved her too!"
"I know you did. But you've got to forgive her, and let yourself love her again."
"I don't know if I can do that."
"I know. That's why I don't want to talk about it anymore. Okay?"
He paused for a moment, and then said, "Okay."
******
This is a fictionalized account of the discussions my husband and I have had since A. died in January. He doesn't imitate Dr. Evil--thank heavens! We talk about this a lot less often than we used to. Perhaps we have just agreed to disagree. I don't care. She's my sister. I hate what she did to herself, but I will never stop loving her.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Yet another meme . . .
Eventually I'll have something to write about. In the meantime, these are slightly amusing!
FOOD-OLOGY
What is your salad dressing of choice? Litehouse Bleu Cheese
What is your favourite fast food restaurant? Jason's Deli, if that counts. If not, probably Chick-Fil-A.
What is your favourite sit down restaurant? El Rancho Grande, in the Stockyards in Fort Worth
On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant? Usually around 20%, but it goes up or down depending on the service and my budget.
What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of? Cheese enchiladas. I don't, of course, but I love 'em!
Name three foods you detest above all others. Stewed okra, eggplant, and crab.
What is your favourite dish to order in a Chinese restaurant? Broccoli beef or beef lo mein
What are your pizza toppings of choice? Black olives, onions, bell peppers, tomatoes
What do you like to put on your toast? Butter, sometimes honey or sometimes jam or jelly.
What is your favourite type of gum? Cinnamon
TECHN-OLOGY
Number of contacts in your mobile phone? 26, although a few of those were temporary things I stored and never got around to deleting.
Number of contacts in your email address book? 28, but gmail saves the addresses of everyone I write. I go in periodically and delete the ones that I don't recognize or no longer use.
What is your wallpaper on your computer? The pyramids at Giza
What is your screensaver on your computer? A slideshow of modern art.
Are there naked pictures saved on your computer? No way!
How many land line phones do you have in your house? None
How many televisions are in your house? Three, which sounds silly since there are only two of us. But there's one in the guest room, one in the front room, and Joe keeps one in his music room for when he's studying music DVDs/videos.
What kitchen appliance do you use the least? That would have to be the Fry-Daddy I bought 5 or 6 years ago and never used.
What is the format of the radio station you listen to the most? Alternative
BI-OLOGY
What do you consider to be your best physical attribute? My eyes
Are you right handed or left handed? Right-handed
Do you like your smile? No, not really. I think my mouth is too small, and I've got bad teeth.
Have you ever had anything removed from your body? Some teeth, some ova (IVF in summer of 2000), approximately 5 pounds of mammary tissue (breast reduction in spring of 2001), and my uterus and ovaries and a lot of adhesions (total hysterectomy in winter of 2003).
Would you like to? Well, a lot of extra poundage, but I'll remove that myself without surgical assistance.
Do you prefer to read when you go to the bathroom? Yes.
Which of your five senses do you think is keenest? touch
When was the last time you had a cavity? I don't know--don't visit the dentist too often.
What is the heaviest item you lift regularly? Besides my backside out of the chair? I don't know.
Have you ever been knocked unconscious? Nope.
MISC-OLOGY
If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die? No. I'm not the type of person who could know that information and not totally obsess on it. I'd rather live each day as it comes.
If you could change your first name, what would you change it to? I did. I went from Virginia (called Ginny) to Faith. I didn't change it legally, but for all intents and purposes I think of myself as Faith.
How do you express your artistic side? Through writing and interior decorating.
What color do you think you look best in? Brown
How long do you think you could last in a medium security prison? I don't know. My first instinct is to say "not long." However, if I have learned anything, I have learned that I can do just about anything that I have to.
Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake? By mistake? No. When I was a kid, I swallowed anything and everything that came my way, including blue paint from the trashcan of the neighbors who were moving away; a can of melted paste floor wax; my mother's supply of birth control pills; and my aunt's supply of morning sickness pills. Yeah, I had my stomach pumped frequently.
If we weren’t bound by society’s conventions, do you have a relative you would make a pass at? Nope.
How often do you go to church? Not as often as I should. If you've been following along in my blog, you already know some of the reasons why. It's not something I like about myself, but I'm just not there yet.
Have you ever saved someone’s life? No.
Has someone ever saved yours? No.
DARE-OLOGY
Would you walk naked for a half mile down a public street for $100,000? I really don't think so, but one never knows.
Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100? No--I only kiss my husband and my dog.
Would you have sex with a member of the same sex for $10,000? No. I'll remain faithful to my husband. This question reminds me of the man who asked a woman if she'd have sex with him for $50,000. She said yes. Then he asked if she'd do it for $5. Very insulted, she said, "What kind of a woman do you think I am?" He responded, "We've already established what kind of woman you are. Now we're negotiating the price."
Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000? Definitely not.
Would you never blog again for $50,000? Sure. Any offers?
Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000? Nope.
Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000? If by hot sauce you mean salsa, perhaps. It would depend on the heat of said salsa. If you mean Tobasco sauce, there is absolutely no way!
Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000? Absolutely not! My beliefs about the sanctity of life are not attached to money.
Would you shave your head and get your entire body waxed for $5,000? No. I wouldn't mind shaving my head, and shaving my entire body. But waxing hurts too much.
Would you give up watching television for a year for $25,000? Yes.
FOOD-OLOGY
What is your salad dressing of choice? Litehouse Bleu Cheese
What is your favourite fast food restaurant? Jason's Deli, if that counts. If not, probably Chick-Fil-A.
What is your favourite sit down restaurant? El Rancho Grande, in the Stockyards in Fort Worth
On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant? Usually around 20%, but it goes up or down depending on the service and my budget.
What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of? Cheese enchiladas. I don't, of course, but I love 'em!
Name three foods you detest above all others. Stewed okra, eggplant, and crab.
What is your favourite dish to order in a Chinese restaurant? Broccoli beef or beef lo mein
What are your pizza toppings of choice? Black olives, onions, bell peppers, tomatoes
What do you like to put on your toast? Butter, sometimes honey or sometimes jam or jelly.
What is your favourite type of gum? Cinnamon
TECHN-OLOGY
Number of contacts in your mobile phone? 26, although a few of those were temporary things I stored and never got around to deleting.
Number of contacts in your email address book? 28, but gmail saves the addresses of everyone I write. I go in periodically and delete the ones that I don't recognize or no longer use.
What is your wallpaper on your computer? The pyramids at Giza
What is your screensaver on your computer? A slideshow of modern art.
Are there naked pictures saved on your computer? No way!
How many land line phones do you have in your house? None
How many televisions are in your house? Three, which sounds silly since there are only two of us. But there's one in the guest room, one in the front room, and Joe keeps one in his music room for when he's studying music DVDs/videos.
What kitchen appliance do you use the least? That would have to be the Fry-Daddy I bought 5 or 6 years ago and never used.
What is the format of the radio station you listen to the most? Alternative
BI-OLOGY
What do you consider to be your best physical attribute? My eyes
Are you right handed or left handed? Right-handed
Do you like your smile? No, not really. I think my mouth is too small, and I've got bad teeth.
Have you ever had anything removed from your body? Some teeth, some ova (IVF in summer of 2000), approximately 5 pounds of mammary tissue (breast reduction in spring of 2001), and my uterus and ovaries and a lot of adhesions (total hysterectomy in winter of 2003).
Would you like to? Well, a lot of extra poundage, but I'll remove that myself without surgical assistance.
Do you prefer to read when you go to the bathroom? Yes.
Which of your five senses do you think is keenest? touch
When was the last time you had a cavity? I don't know--don't visit the dentist too often.
What is the heaviest item you lift regularly? Besides my backside out of the chair? I don't know.
Have you ever been knocked unconscious? Nope.
MISC-OLOGY
If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die? No. I'm not the type of person who could know that information and not totally obsess on it. I'd rather live each day as it comes.
If you could change your first name, what would you change it to? I did. I went from Virginia (called Ginny) to Faith. I didn't change it legally, but for all intents and purposes I think of myself as Faith.
How do you express your artistic side? Through writing and interior decorating.
What color do you think you look best in? Brown
How long do you think you could last in a medium security prison? I don't know. My first instinct is to say "not long." However, if I have learned anything, I have learned that I can do just about anything that I have to.
Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake? By mistake? No. When I was a kid, I swallowed anything and everything that came my way, including blue paint from the trashcan of the neighbors who were moving away; a can of melted paste floor wax; my mother's supply of birth control pills; and my aunt's supply of morning sickness pills. Yeah, I had my stomach pumped frequently.
If we weren’t bound by society’s conventions, do you have a relative you would make a pass at? Nope.
How often do you go to church? Not as often as I should. If you've been following along in my blog, you already know some of the reasons why. It's not something I like about myself, but I'm just not there yet.
Have you ever saved someone’s life? No.
Has someone ever saved yours? No.
DARE-OLOGY
Would you walk naked for a half mile down a public street for $100,000? I really don't think so, but one never knows.
Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100? No--I only kiss my husband and my dog.
Would you have sex with a member of the same sex for $10,000? No. I'll remain faithful to my husband. This question reminds me of the man who asked a woman if she'd have sex with him for $50,000. She said yes. Then he asked if she'd do it for $5. Very insulted, she said, "What kind of a woman do you think I am?" He responded, "We've already established what kind of woman you are. Now we're negotiating the price."
Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000? Definitely not.
Would you never blog again for $50,000? Sure. Any offers?
Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000? Nope.
Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000? If by hot sauce you mean salsa, perhaps. It would depend on the heat of said salsa. If you mean Tobasco sauce, there is absolutely no way!
Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000? Absolutely not! My beliefs about the sanctity of life are not attached to money.
Would you shave your head and get your entire body waxed for $5,000? No. I wouldn't mind shaving my head, and shaving my entire body. But waxing hurts too much.
Would you give up watching television for a year for $25,000? Yes.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Tuesday is Chooseday
- Would you rather:
- bathe in a pool of dog drool OR be sprayed down with fire hose? Ugh!!! Um, I guess be sprayed down with a fire hose, although that would be painful, because dog drool, as much as I love my dog, is something I find exceedingly nasty.
- live in a house where everything is sticky OR that smells like rotting trash? Sticky, no question about it.
- sit under a tanning lamp for 12 hours OR live in a 90 degree house with no air conditioning for three weeks? I'd take the 90 degree house with no a/c--melanoma runs in my family!
- eat 24 popsicles in a row OR stand in a restaurant walk-in freezer for an hour? I think I'd do the popsicles, as long as I don't have to scarf them so fast I get brainfreeze.
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