How Gnomes Turned Me Into a Pro Liar

I love and collect trolls. You know them. Those little naked bug eyed creatures with Don King hair.

Well...

Somehow my cousin mistook my troll affection  for gnome affection. This has resulted in endless gifts of Temu gnomes for every occasion, holiday, or fancy. Gnomes on motorcycles, hippie gnomes, gnome couples, gnome blankets, gnome t shirts, gnome tree ornaments, gnome coffee mugs, gnomes of different sizes, gnomes of resin, fabric, plastic, ceramic... I think she's bought every gnome she's seen on the website. 

 

And so when she came east this Fall, she brought my Xmas gifts. About 2 weeks later, my PA and I were moving the kitchen trash bag of wrapped presents out of our way when the decision was made to open the packages and figure out what to do.

 

Yes, more gnomes. All gnomes. I made a list of them in order to thank her on Xmas Day. Then we did gnome redistribution. To Goodwill. And that, I thought, was that.

 

Except that there was a small bag of flat cardboard gnome tree ornaments that she was keen on having my aide find and add to the tree. And she called today to make sure we did.

 

This is when we became pro liars. Yes, Alicia said, we found it and will add them to the tree. The truth is, they were probably sold weeks ago and I never even looked thru the packet. Yes, I'm guilty. Yes, I'll call her in a bit and tell her how sweet they are. And live with the lies. And at some point I'll have to tell her I'm off gnomes. But that day is not today.

 

And that's how gnomes turned me into a pro liar.

x 

  

 

 

 

Midsummer Week in Bizarro World

 

I'm still trying to get my sea legs in this bizarro timeline. It was thrilling to see all the protests, and the feeble parade he threw for himself. One third of my entire town turned out to sing on the Commons. It would've been great to go, but wheelchairs and grass and rain don't go well together. I miss protesting!

 

Today Cheato von Tweeto's leaving the G7 "to attend to the Iran-Israel situation". My ass. I'm sure he's just being ignored and can't take it. Narcissists are vampires for attention.

Right? Every day is surprise day. Except it's usually bad, and quite surreal.

And I have the best vodka on Earth and can't drink it. These are the times we're living. Perhaps my mother was right, this is Hell. Where else would be so beautiful and cruel?

 

However, this may be the 3rd weekend of no rain or snow in 2025. It's raining today, of course.

 

Be well.

x

 

Does Anybody Remember Laughter?

It's been a lifetime since I last visited this blog, much less posted. I find little to say and less I want to think about.

My country's government has been usurped by a 40+ year-old plan hatched by plutocrats and those who can be bought. We are headed directly into a fascist dictatorship, fueled by hatred and paranoia from the gullible who voted for the Antichrist. My brother and his family are among that ilk. I can barely speak to him. And how he went from being a Berner in NJ to a MAGAt in FL is a mystery.

There are inhabitants in the government that I absolutely hate with the white hot hatred of a thousand suns. Never had that pure hatred in my 66 years. This is what we've all learned now; how to truly hate. 

If we make it we can all sit back and laugh, but I fear tomorrow I'll be crying.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vXrpFxHfppI 

(copy and paste; Gurgle won't let me post the hot link)

x

 

 

Whatwhatwhatty?

 Blogger has changed many things, including my ability to comment on posts. It all saps the will to live, much less blog...

Ye Aulde Lang Syne

 I've had this blog for a long time. I should do something about that. 

Current Miniscule Irritant: Sheldon not mentioning the origin of Y as in "Ye Olde..." It was never a y sound; the Y is from the runic symbol, but a th usage/sound. It's "The Olde..."

Current Major Irritant: Governments everywhere. Everyone's nuts. WTF

This is not Covid, part 5. This is a grammar school head cold. Runny nose and all. And lots of coughing. Better to get it over with because it's

 

THE HOLIDAYS

 

again.

Dinner with Plague tomorrow, vegetarian. My blood sugar is a mess in December anyway. Turkey dinner with Wendo on the Solstice. Then Open House on Xmas Eve, the afternoon gathering before facing the commitments. Doing a Scandi smorgasbord this year. Xmas Day is me, Harry Potter, and a rib eye steak. Then there's a break until we do The Very Crompton Christmas on the 6th.  I ignore New Year's Eve, something I never thought I'd do back in Ye Olde Universe.

But I never thought I'd adore being alone, either. There are surprises in getting old. Not a lot of good ones, but surprises nonetheless.

The theme this year was division. Everyone is divided, and not in two. We're in many pieces. It's happened several times before in my recall and it's scarier every time, though I'm not sure why. Is it worse every time? Do we lose ground, get perverted, sink a bit lower each time? Well yeah. That's not to say it's a bad thing, it's real. We've been living in such programming for a long time and as Zappa said:

“The illusion of freedom will continue as long as it's profitable to continue the illusion. At the point where the illusion becomes too expensive to maintain, they will just take down the scenery, they will pull back the curtains, they will move the tables and chairs out of the way and you will see the brick wall at the back of the theater.”

Same as it ever was.

May we look at the brick wall with grace and humor.

Peace and love, fellow babies.

x

 

And Just Like That!

 It's mid-November, I'm wrapping presents and planning Pie Day Friday- the day after Thanksgiving. Here's a shot of Pie in July. There were 8 pies in the end. I hope we exceed that for Pie Day Friday.

 

My Thanksgiving is forever changed. No more big dinner for several, just a turkey thigh, stuffing, gravy, Brussels sprouts and cranberries for me alone while I bake pies and watch the parade and set up for company the next day. I like it.

In fact, I'm discovering things I like and don't like, free from any influence. For example, I finally admitted to myself that I don't like being touched all that much. It probably goes back to gods know what, but I just am no fan. The 70s hugging, the hand-holding, the stroking of head/hair, all somewhat repel me and I think always did.  

There are foods I've come to the "ew" point over that I've eaten without complaint all these years. 

There is clothing I refuse to ever wear again. 

There are countless opinions I don't give a rat's ass about. 

There are rules that I deem foolish and ignore.

Religion, and its trappings, are a curious human situation to me. Nothing more.

Is this the benefit of 6.5 decades of living? To finally get to be who You are, sans the imposed and shellacked layers of socializing/programming? Who knows. Not "having to" do whatever is the most freeing thing ever. 

And maybe that's the gift of aging. Saying what I think without interior censors. Doing what I like without caring what others think. Freedom. And for that, I am truly thankful.

x

By The 4th

By the 4th time you have Covid, nobody checks on you.

By the 4th of July I'll be well and able to host Pie in July.  I'll make a couple pies, people will bring pies, people will eat pies. We'll watch a certain person who does really bizarre things, like bringing half of a  5" tart and then eating half of that herself. We'll get varying sugar highs, then people will go to the town fireworks display, and I'll clean up and go to bed.

By the 4th week of every month I'm ready for the next month, June has been a busy, tiring month and I'm glad to see the end of it. It's always great to see my OK cousins, to hang with friends, to get projects done. It's even good to see my doctor and  everyone in the office. But it's exhausting and I always end up sick. 

By the 4th time I re-injure my hand the pain doesn't impress me anymore.

By the 4th day of less than 6 hours' sleep I have little good to say. So I'll just say, 

 

from the very green Green Mountain State.

x

Come She May

 Suddenly it's Walpurgis Day, and tomorrow's Beltane, May Day, International Workers' Day. 

 

 

In a few short weeks half of 2023 will be done. We're 3+ years into the pandemic. I currently have friends sick with the latest Covid variant. The usual slings and arrows seem lesser tortures in the face of the insanity that's running rampant in my country.

And, Jimmy Carter's in hospice care.

Still, it could be, and probably will be, worse. 

 

 April has brought good gatherings though. 

We have Game Nights again, and I'm making soups from around the world for our suppers together before we play. We had Solyanka first, an Eastern European classic with ham, pickles, olives, and herbs, that we loved. We followed that with Beef Tagine, which melts in your mouth with its chick peas, raisins and apricots cooked slowly for 8 hours. This week I'm making a traditional Welsh Cawl, with lamb, bacon, root veggies and cabbage.

And birthday time rolled around, with friends visiting, bearing gifts and food. I don't feel anything different about being in my 65th spin around the Sun as I did in my 64th. After a while, it's just more of the same. But it's lovely to be made a fuss over for a couple days, and to eat what I wish, damn the diabetes.

Which brings me to the weirdness.  My left hand swelled to the point that I couldn't lift the coffee pot. So I quit drinking coffee, which seems to have cleared up the dermatitis spots on my fingers. Go figure. A coffee allergy? Typical. However, nothing I did reduced the swelling, so off to an Urgent Care storefront I went. There, I waited over an hour (despite my appointment made online) to see a nurse practitioner who did a cursory look-over and prescribed Prednisone, 50 mg for 5 days. After taking the first pill, my blood sugar went up to near 300. So much for my upcoming labs, I thought. My Doc said cut them in half, which I did. 2 days later my hand had deflated a bit but my BS was still around 200. The thing was, all my pain subsided and I was sleeping like a log. Sure thing, soon as the steroid was over, the pains returned. And in another day, my fingers blew up to the sausages they'd been, and have stayed that way.

The rest goes on here as it goes. Goggles raves and reeks, the weather does odd things (97'F in April?), the town keeps persevering in the face of a brutal murder and assorted societal ills...

Words don't come to me as they used to do and I've stopped writing. This has gone on for some time now and I don't know if it's permanent. I'm overwhelmed with everything, and nothing. 

I hope things are sunnier and happier where you are. Sorry for my ennui.

x

Where's House When You Need Him?

We had a 36 inch snowfall over the last 2 days. We had no power for one day, and no internet for a day and a half. So I didn't hear until today that Kick's husband is in the ICU up north. She came downstairs to find him naked on the floor in an 85'F sitting room yesterday morning. He was, and still is, unresponsive.  The medicos can't figure out why he won't wake up. Kick is beside herself. This is a nightmare. We need a genius doc or nurse who solves the puzzle.

Meanwhile, if you're the praying type, it can't hurt to send up a wish for his recovery. Thanks.

x

March Madness

Is it me or is there a lot of craziness going around? I mean, several people have gone mad in the last year. Like the zeitgeist has caught them, and they lost their footing in the whirlwind of insanity. One of my oldest and dearest friends disappeared in paranoiac fear of all things electronic. I'm not even sure what happened as she wasn't making a lot of sense, but it had something to do with Second Life and people tracking her. News comes of someone losing the plot on the weekly these days.

Not that it's surprising. With this country the way it is, and a Venn Diagram of Insanity/Stupidity/ Greed/Hatred that switches dominant sectors often, what else could happen? 

I've been contemplating whether it was good or bad to shield children from reality as we did "back in my day". Nowadays kids grow up with a lot of harsh real world from the beginning. And as soon as they're amongst other kids, they get those kids' realities added which can be traumatic to witness. Then there are Smartphones, texting, the internet and social media, all avenues for bullying, trafficking and drugs. We took the nastiness our schoolmates could dish out, but not like this. Online talk is conducive to loathsome conduct that never transpires face to face. We had schoolyard fistfights if someone said things that nasty- not that that was good either- but what do you do when faceless, nameless bullies pile on you? Get depressed, withdrawn, hopeless. And then a white coat comes along and diagnoses some insurance code and prescribes something for changing of the nerves or brain. 

So would it be better to raise kids in a cloud of lies and protection? We had so many realizations to digest as we grew up, so many pretenses to recognize, and then discern what was truth. But we did have relatively easier times in which to be kids. Even if it wasn't, we felt the world was generally safe as long as we didn't do anything stupid. I don't know a child who feels safe anymore. So was ignorance bliss? 

This stuff comes to mind lately as another friend's child committed suicide. That makes 4 over the last 6 years. 2 of them left babies of their own to grow up without a father. 

I have no answers, just questions and observations, and grief.

Tell someone they're wonderful today.

x

  

 

February Makes Me Shiver

As I type it's -15F/-26C. Cold. I like weather the same way I like Prosecco, cold and dry. 

Winter is finally here, with February. My friend Tall Paul and I were discussing it yesterday, when it was also damn windy. He's lived here most of his 70ish years and noted that he'd forgotten what Vermont Winters were like, but this was it. This is the cold that freezes snot in your nose in seconds, that blisters your lips if they aren't protected, that makes frostbite quite likely on any exposed skin, that provides a suicidal opportunity. And I love it. My favorite season.

It's February, and February usually sucks. Death anniversaries of 3 people I loved (my mother, hubby, and favorite boss). Valentine's Day (which I've always hated). Post-holidays isolation. Post-holidays tight budget. And lots of tourists here to ski. Blech to it all.

For whatever reason we have a delay in Winter's arrival (could it be Climate Change? Pole shifting? the Jet Stream moving/flattening/being erratic?). Nah, don't be talking any of that Democrat conspiracy shit. 

 

Anyway I can't hate February because now it brings Winter- about 3 months later than it once came, but it comes nonetheless. My joints ease, pain recedes, I can do things. So I'm pretty happy with February this year.

LilaPie Muffinpants has had some troubles and caused many, and is currently staying with assorted people until there's a residential program/school for teenagers that she qualifies attending. She spent a day with me this past week. We hadn't spent any time alone together since she was 4, which was 11 years ago. Wild to see the burgeoning adult version of the sweet, bright, protective little girl who was a SJW by age 9. She lost her beloved and adored only uncle to suicide, her grandfather to cancer, and birth father to cirrhosis, within 4 years of her childhood. Her family has been thru so much in her aware time. It's a lot to process, and I think she's carrying a ton of grief and PTSD. I don't think she feels loved. I'll just keep throwing love at her and hope some of it sticks.

There's still about 6 inches of ankle-cutter snow. Don't know what ankle-cutter snow is? It's snow that's been thru temp changes and sun, and forms a hard layer of ice on top. This snow, when deer walk in it, cuts their ankles. Good for some fast and ultimately painful sledding, though.

 

The sun's rising and the sky is a washed out blue watercolor.

The wind knocked over some recycling bins, 

Yep, it's Winter in The Dreadfort. Stay warm.

x

Onward At Last!

It's 2023. We're firmly in The 2020s. I never thought I'd see these years after the nuke fallout drills, wars and threats of wars, drugs, alcoholism, city living, AIDS, prescribed opioids, heart issues, blah blah blah. I'm not special, most people my age got all this too. Nobody I talk to thinks they would live this long. Yet, as they say, here we are.

I'm glad to kick 2022's ass out the door. Getting Covid twice (after 3 shots) wasn't so bad after all. But what sucked was all my friends being sick, one after another with one thing or another. Bugs galore. One that took your voice. One that gave you the runs for weeks. One that filled your head so you had to mouth breathe and couldn't sleep (I hate mouthbreathing!). We didn't see each other for months at a time- crowning 3 years of distance, 3 years of no Game Nights, 3 years of sitting here online way too much. And the weather was screwy too making the creek rise and cuing my PTSD, which turns me into InstaBitch (not that that's much of a push). So yeah, get the hell out, '22. Take the sicknesses, TFG,  the assholes who follow him, and his pal Putin, my neighbor Goggles, all the petty tin gods around, and shove them all so far up an orifice they never know fresh air again.

 

What will happen this year? Good, bad, just meh? Anyone have predictions?

Happy New Year, everyone. I wish you health and laughter, strength and good surprises.

x
 

Ho Ho Ho

We've had sickness, tragedy, crises, ill will, anger, heartaches, and general drama this year. We've had some joys, a few victories, and shared stupefaction. Somehow, we made it to Xmas. And like the Whos in Whoville, we gathered and clasped hands and hearts.

That's what Xmas is all about, Charlie Brown.

And here comes a brand new year. Another construct to do with as you will.

Let's move forward with big goodness in our minds and acts.  Let's learn, and think, and do better. We can, you know.

War is over, if you want it.

Peace, prosperity, laughter to you and yours.

x

Covid, Round 2 & Last Call for McNeill's

This version of Covid is quite different. The first was coughy and deathlike. This one's been like a regular flu- ague; runny nose; crazy thirst; nothing stayed down - even water; full head; mouthbreathing. It's better today. I want to sleep but I'm slept out now. Yesterday was right off miserable. But figure this out- I started feeling sick on Saturday, but tested negative until today. Nothing is reliable anymore.

Much worse than my little illness is that our town lost an institution. McNeill's Brewery (aka Dewey's to oldtimers) 32 year-old community hang out, burned down on Friday night. Worse than that, Ray McNeill, founder and award-winning brewmeister, father and grandfather, went down with his ship.

Mc Neill's Burns, 1 Dead

With this tragedy, the old Brattleboro is gone to me. The many places I frequented back in the day are closed, or changed, or upscaled. We won't see another McNeill's, as we won't see another Mole's Eye, Frankie's Pizza, Sporty's, or Mike's. Change is inevitable. Tragic ends like this are hard to live with.

So farewell Dewey's, RIP Ray, see you on the other side.

I'm going to go light a candle for us all.

x

# 17 and Pie Day Friday Returns, At Last!

It looks like an organized, sane, non-histrionic personal assistant has appeared. She's mature, owns a cleaning biz, has 9 children and 3 grands, and we get on like a house on fire.

What a strange expression, why would clear communication and understanding be like a burning house?

My friends have kept me in groceries, and tomorrow Plague is coming to do laundry, watch Rings of Power and eat pizza with me. I would be dead without my friends.

Anyhow, #17 is the first solidly promising PA I've had since my Alicia left to have her second set of bairns. The eldest of those three is 4 already. Here are the littles.

 The youngest, just turning 1.

The middle and eldest, 3 and 4. Aren't they adorable little stinkers?

It snowed overnight, the first snow. Of course the predictors made a deal of it, inches and heaviness exaggerated for ratings and to satiate the drama-addicted. The reality is a sloppy inch of mush like any other first snow. It's defrosting already.

The holidays are looming ahead. Thanksgiving is a non event to me, but Pie Day Friday is returning and I'm looking forward to it. This year I'm making Maple Whiskey Walnut, and Blueberry. If anyone wants the recipe for the MWW, lemme know. It's like a pecan pie, but different.
 

There are 3 cartons of holiday gifts wrapped and ready to go under the tree. The only stuff left to get are for the far away that are easy to do- money to charities, a gift certificate to my brother, a set of earmuffs and gloves to my cousin. No big whoop. I'm about 3 weeks earlier than usual, and already getting antsy to haul out the holly. But it'll wait til #17 gives this place a real dusting and vacuuming. It'll be nice to breathe free again, to not see dust particles in every light beam, to wake up without a clogged nose and a headache. And then filling the clean front room with a bright tree, sparkling hoohahs, baked goodies and fancy chocolates, and carols playing. Seeing all the old decorations is dear and heartwarming to me. I love the holidays.

 A very happy Turkey Day to those observing, may we have peace and plenty in our lifetime.

x

It's All Weird to Me, and I'm a Wyrdo

By some oddness, all the testings and evaluations this year came back just fine. I'm not eating the 90% meat and dairy diet, because who can afford that now? But I rarely get carried away. I will, as traditional observance, be trashed thru the holidays. It starts with the tree trimming, and carries on until the Very Crompton Christmas. So a month or so of stupid and careless behavior, which is kept in check by my nonexistent ability to party these days. 

It's sad, I'm in bed with a book or movie by 8p and asleep long before 10. 

The latest startling revelation is that I'm turning into Aunt Audrey, who wasn't a blood relative, who looked like Audrey Hepburn, drank whiskey straight, and was a very bitter person.  She suffered no lie or stupidity in her presence. She put pins in balloons. She was called, behind her back, "bitchy". Yes, me too. 

If there were some way to stop myself, I would have by now. So I must be aspiring to be Audreyish on some level. Isn't constant self-analysis fun.

I truly don't mean to be bitchy. It really irks me when friends are drowning in needless stupidity or someone's lies that they believe. It didn't used to bother me.  Here and there I'd drop a terse bomb, and that was it. But over the years, it's fine tuned to dry, sarcastic know-it-all Audreyness. It's Sheldonesque, and boring, and somewhat mean. And that's all freaking weird.

Furtherly weird, I had to order wide glasses because this giant Viking head breaks readers that normal people wear.  3 pairs of readers in 6 months. Arms give out, lenses pop, frames crack apart. I have a huge head.

And here we are on a rainy, weirdly warm November 11th, Veterans Day, Armistice Day. 

It was t shirt weather today.  People were all "Isn't it great?" while I'm thinking, "This isn't November weather." 

Elections are hanging like the pit and the pendulum; who knows what will happen but my guts won't allow me to think about it. Hell, my guts won't allow me to drink 2 cups of coffee anymore.

We creep and crawl closer to the Herman movie, at so slow a pace, but I won't let it not happen.  Lots of sickness and elder issues among The Old Gang of Witches. Time is ticking and we've already said goodbye to 2 of the interviewed, Kaye Flagg and Jim Wasserman. I still can't believe they're gone. So yeah, this will be finished. Dammit.

And I still have no aide, so there's that. #17, where are you?

If you are a veteran, thank you and I'm sorry.

x

 

Good Times, Bad Times

 There is balance. But somehow it's not enough.

My eye doc says I'm still 20/20, 4 years later.

Aide #16 is done. I was to interview a possible #17 today, but they didn't show up or even call.

I despise being disabled. I hate having to depend on other people for stupid things like shopping, vacuuming, laundry, mopping... These are things that are making me silent and bitter. Nobody wants to hear it. I don't even want to say it, because what's the point? It's obvious this all sucks. So I don't talk about it. But then there's this here blog, where I've opened many veins over a decade and a half.

It's generally not easy getting old. I swear my body started falling apart at 30, when I saw my first arthritis specialist. But it's been a "slow fade" as my exboss The Meathead put on my disability form. And to end up in a wheelchair when in my dreams I still run... 

I loved to run.

I loved a lot of things, and a lot of things are gone.

My wise motherinlaw once said, "Life is a series of losses." Yes it is, Roz.

And so there's a lot of acceptance needed. Not crying and whining, just quiet acceptance. And with that acceptance is also the special acceptance annex of friends doing things I can't do.That isn't easy either. I'm a proud Brooklyn woman who was raised to be the charity giver, not the taker. It's a very different view on the other side. A lot to swallow.

With all that, it's a miracle I have several kind and caring friends who are eager to help out. And for that I'm truly grateful.

And now I'll shut up and not let myself get bitter.

x

.

 

 

Austanspace: the Final Frontier

So Musk has bought Twatter and is proceeding to stink up the place. Since he's become a MAGAt, it will no doubt become another MeWe, full of fascists and stupidity.  Well that's about it for social media. When it comes to the point that you have to give up personal info just to log into their craptastic site; when your 'free speech' is threatened and subject to approval by, and privately owned by, some rich freak, screw it. I intend to treat it as it deserves. hehehe

Okie cousin was here, sparkles and spandex and very much like Meemaw on "Young Sheldon" but with a platinum page boy. There was much "getting to know you" since we had 6 days and nobody came out with her. I may go into detail at some point, but we have more in common than we knew.

Halloween is Monday, Samhain following. It's like this last month folded  and reopened a couple weeks later. This year I'm dressing up as the elderly Luna Lovegood. still in her Ravenclaw robes, her wild blonde hair and weird earrings flying.

Late Summer

 There are certain tenets I stand by.

1) Things went to Hell after Bonzo died, September 25th, 1980.

2) Nothing good comes of Rudy's.

3) Take care of your teeth and feet.

4) We are pretty ignorant, quite hypocritical, and know very little for sure.

5) Hot pans cool down if they get out of the heat.

6)  The whole world's got PTSD

 

 One of the things I gave up is online arguing. It's easy if you're off Fecebook (and I hope you are). In general, I've grown to care less and less what anyone else thinks. So if they don't agree, who cares. If  I still argue with you, by email or in real face, you're a true friend. If you continually try to provoke or be an ass to me, you'll be gone like Poof! It makes life feel nicer.

It's really been One Damn Thing After Another for many years now. People who weren't alive when the Twin Towers fell are about old enough to drink alcohol. And we've been in a horrific, stupid, and costly war their whole lives.  Terrorism, foreign and domestic, rules. We are devolving, for a time. But all things must pass, and chances are we'll return to inert mediocrity in the end. After all the bangs and booms will come exhaustive quiet and a low farting sound. Then we'll carry on with the tame squabbles.

My new Gal Friday and I cleaned all 32 of the hanging pictures in my front room. Next comes the bookcases and the many things in them. After that, the real Fall cleaning before windows are shut for the duration. The year is moving ahead, the planet spins, I'm about halfway done with Yuletide shopping. Planning food for entertaining this Fall. Looking forward to my cousin visiting. Helping a young woman who's writing an article about home aides. Of course I wonder what's in Ivana's casket besides her, but

In the long run

 x

Might as Well Dump

In the post-Herman days of the Childe, the various characters that worked there reconfigured and carried on. At the cash register, and maestro of the mayhem was Steve Teischer. A big old Brooklynese Jewish hippie with sharp edges and great humor, Steve stepped into Herman's role with no ties to The Craft. He didn't disrespect it, and now and then credited it, but he never partook. He did what he could to keep the place running. He called himself and me The Dumpster Sisters because everything there ended up on our heads. Steve and The Childe are long gone now, but I continued to uphold the title for a couple decades.  

That was, until I got away from being a working stiff, and then escaped living on ramen noodles, and at last cleared some people out of my life that lived in perpetually dirty diapers. It's amazing how much nicer you and life can be when the psychic vampires are gone. All of a sudden you aren't carrying people's crises for them and they aren't sucking the energy outta you. You dumped it all and things lightened up.

And that energy you now have can go into good works, good ideas, and good people. 

This has been a good week. I have hope that truth will out, that people get their comeuppence, and that maybe a little sanity will return. Maybe things aren't entirely broken. Maybe refiring up the Hadron Collider shifted us back to our old universe. Whatever is happening, I'm happy it is, and doing my part to increase the good. It starts with dumping the bad. Try it.

 

x