Shake It Off

The older I get the more time I spend thinking. This is both the joy and horror of being alone a lot and prone to thinking. It's addictive too.

I'm still involved with the Bernie campaign, monitoring and admin-ing a few FB pages, but approaching it from a different angle. It was affecting my health there, so it was either stop doing it or find a new way to do it. Since I want to do something useful for Bernie, and someone needs to do these things, I want to do it. And so now when I'm playing hall monitor I don't invest in the issue, just straighten the suckers out as to rules. (This is dangerously close to Policy Governance, which I abhor. But that's another whole story.)

You see, I enjoy arguing as much as I enjoy haggling, which is not at all. It raises the bile in my throat and makes me antsy. When I argue I get unpolite. Then things generally go downhill. So I reserve my own soapboxing for my own time and keep it separate from hall monitoring. These same arguments will be there tomorrow, or next week, or back around in a month.It gives one time to think and calm down, too. Which generally makes for smarter arguing. Smarter arguments end quickly, it's the stupid arguing that goes on til you could kill yourself.

Sometimes I feel like I've fallen into a grad level course in social media with no prior knowledge of the subject. This is a cool experiment in sociology and who knows where it will lead? World peace, as more people see that everyone wants the same damn things everywhere, it's not too much to ask, and why the hell aren't we getting it? Will this ultimately lead to a worldwide change? Will war die out due to unpopularity? Will we just make peace more profitable than war so everyone makes out?

See what I mean about thinking. It's like this.

World news is too awful to talk about. The election is embarrassing. We are still in the Shire and Summer is a coming in. It's been raining and paining.

Mare is slowing down and taking more and more drugs. She gave up doing the bills and checkbook, and Jeff carries her upstairs now. I think she's letting go. Death is a series of losses just like life.

Billy is getting the house done part by part, still healing his ankle, still making me nuts, and will be here Monday for a week. I'm finally getting the endoscopy/colonoscopy on Tuesday. This gut doesn't want to heal and I'm doing the more gentle way of cleaning out the system. I just want to get it over with. 48 hours of no food, just clear liquids and laxatives. Joy. At least Billy will be here.

Still, our issues are nothing compared to Mare and her family's plight. To think- there are 7 billion other stories just like ours going on on this planet.

Strider has all but disowned me entirely. Or maybe entirely but I haven't really accepted that yet. I've no idea what's up, she said nothing. But she's done this to others over the years, I guess it was just my turn. I don't understand people who go that passive/aggressive route. I have too much mouth. Such is life, people do what they do. What I do is not give second chances to people who do what she's just done. So it's sad.

The deaths of very talented people can stop any time now, thanks.

The management made me take in my Bernie lawn sign, some rat bastid looked up the obscure HUD regulation and complained. Mind you, I'd had the State Senator's (who has an office in this place's admin building) out there every time she's run for the past 5 years with no comment.

It always worries me when it rains for days now. I talked to an old friend and coworker tonight for the first time in 10 years and we revisited that awful year of 2011, the year of cold turkey, death, fire, murders, flood and homelessness. 5 years ago. He was there when the murder happened at our old workplace. The General Manager told him to get back to work, standing there with blood on his shirt. No, we're not over that year. Not yet anyway. And the forecast is rain all week. Yeah, that's Spring, it rains. That's what I keep telling myself.

Beest is finally well and back to being the psycho cat we know. She's fattening right back up. Her book is on the back burner until I get my confidence back. Meanwhile I have the biopic of Herman Slater to coordinate and produce. Right now I'm getting people on board, while the director is planning his traveling itinerary, and we both pull hair out over funding.

And to end this on a shallow note, I'm so happy to be watching Game of Thrones in the regular  broadcasting time. It took 6 years, but I'm finally seeing it when the world is raving. There's something communal in watching it when a couple million other folks do, and realize that in many other rooms, people are going "Oh!" at the same time you are. We lost some of that in the age of Netflix and owning and binging. Remember when everyone was watching "The Wizard of Oz" when it was broadcast? Like that. It'll be nice when cable is entirely a la carte, but having HBO is nice. And it doesn't suck like it used to suck, so there's that. And yes, heeeeere's Jonny!

Entertainment isn't all bad.

I hope your May is sweet and bright and full of flowers.
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Rusty Springs

Between the awful news, shocking deaths, natural disasters and general hi-dee-ho of life in these United States these days, there is life. Spring is sprung, the flowers are popping, leaves grow by the hour, things are smelly. Beauty and stink often go together.

Today I finished 57 years of living. For better or worse I'm still here, I'm still having fun and making mistakes, doing great and lousy things, learning and laughing. I have good friends. I have nice acquaintances who work with me in causes. The day was full of good wishes via phone, email, Facebook, real mail and in person. I heard from people on 4 continents today- that's a miracle of modern science. Frank Zappa's sister sent me birthday wishes and so did many people I've known for decades or just a few weeks. What a blessing to be able to chat and get to know people you'd never be able to meet in the flesh otherwise, and find and stay in touch with those you'd thought were gone from your life.

Being at the docs lately, I've been impressed at the Star Trekish gadgets they have now. A wheel run across your forehead tells your temp. A little clothespin tells your pulse and oxygen level. The tech advances in all areas, new faster ways to do all the old things. But they still can't make a diagnosis.

So what if I'm not healthy and wealthy? Those are both great things to have, but life goes on without them. Life has pain, and heartbreak, and scary times for everyone. Life also has joy, and growth, and opportunities to be brave, to be kind, to learn. Anyone can enter or exit your life without warning. Any day can change everything. So can how you look at things. 

Years ago when I was on the night shift in the Meat Dept., the guy who did the tattoo on my upper right arm came thru at dinner time. He'd just had a 2nd baby born and money was tight. I was culling the meat cases for what was going off code and gave him a couple kielbasa on their last day. No big deal. Just offhandedly, I said, "Us poor folk gotta stick together." And he said, "You're rich in what really matters." He was right.

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Crickets From the Other Side

Remember a while back, I sent a piece of Ian's sweater to Texas for an experiment in psychic reading/mediumship? Well, all the results, written and drawn, are in. Not one hit. I was sent 7 readings, and several of them had similar too-common-to-matter fishing items from the medium(s). "Someone with an M", "Someone who was on life support", "The number 17", "Someone had a car accident", that sort of rubbishy typical "medium" fishing. Not one thing in the pages and pages that directly hit.

Next were the portraits. All of them women, 20-40. Not a one looked like anyone I know, living or dead. In fact, I don't think I know any women who died that young. Men, yes, with the AIDS crisis and drugs and cars. But the portraits were all young women. And the readings were pointed toward women spirits talking. I think the "medium" looked at the swatch and determined it belonged to a hippie woman, and ran with it.

In fact, I'd make a case that I can profile the "medium" better than she profiled Ian.

So, in my view, whomever they were using on this test, failed. Big fail. A "give it up and do something else" fail.

Ah, well.
The Mrs. Houdini quest goes on.
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"Don't 'Darling' Me, Darling....

...you have a face like a cat's ass." A popular saying years ago. It's April, 2016. This whole year so far has been a cat's ass, literally and figuratively.

Firstly, Beest's own cat ass. For 2 weeks, getting better. Changed foods, kept up with the pumpkin. She let out some WMD bombs, but no issues. Then yesterday she dripped a little watery blood. Today she's straining like she's giving birth and splotting. There was ass art on the kitchen floor this morning. WTF. The vet says it's the anal glands again, so keep her watered, give soft and wet small bits of food (basically she has to eat the way I eat). I've probably been letting her eat too much this past week. Hasn't lost her appetite, she's just wickedly constipated and obsessed with it, as well. Give it til Monday, then we'll see. From what I gleaned in the online cat forums (I know), Torties seem to have this more often than other kitties. There's no figuring it out. It may last a few weeks or even months, then it'll just stop, and nobody ever knows what caused it. Meanwhile, poor Beest. She's a dramatic cat in regular days, this is putting her in overdrive. Torties are particular little weirdos. I just want her back to normal. She's laying here on her desk shelf staring out the window into the darkness of The Shire night. And there she goes, back to the litter box. It's gonna be a long night.

The cat's ass face comes out every time I monitor pages for groups on Facebook. It becomes a barrage of info, half of it false, and little of it good. I'm so disgusted with the Billary machine and the entire shameful spectacle of this election cycle. How have we come this lowdown? Does anyone else see how rotten we look to the rest of the world? Take all that, then add monitoring Facebook discourse, which is too often little better than Jerry Springer. Not the best view of humanity. Doesn't help my guts issue either. As much as I love Bernie and would work 24/7 to see him elected, I can't keep this up. It's affecting my health. Other people need to step up. I'll continue to support him, send my $10 a month, talk to people about him, find other ways to help, even do some social media promos. But being Hall Monitor for so many intense and vicious adults is too stressful. I'm living on Tums, like I did in prep school. But I'm not 16 anymore.

Keith Emerson was laid to rest beside his mother in England. There's something sweet to that, still.

  Farewell, Fingers.



Saw this parody of the "Don't Fear the Reaper" lyrics about this year:
"Had it up to here with the Reaper,
Kinda wish he'd give it a rest.
Come on, Reaper, don't be an asshole,
Reaper, don't be a douche, don't take our heroes,
Take the afternoon off, don't be too eager,
Try to chill the heck out!"

Yeah, Reaper, you've gotta have some earned time owed.

Meanwhile, I became a Reverend of Dudeism.

There is really good stuff going on, My nephew and niece bought a house they love thanks to my sis-in-law. They're painting and fixing and very happy. Carrieboo (remember her?) is also settling into a new home way out west in BC. Silly Billy got to the bank and refinanced despite dumping his bike on his left leg twice in one week. He's a tough old bird. He'll be getting the house resided this Summer, and new countertops. He'll be up here next month. The rest of the clan is plodding along, best they can. The weather's been Spring for months now, but we have a threat of snow tomorrow. I don't know if it's been this screwy before, but this is screwy. However, everyone's enjoying having no Winter. How nice for them.

And in the Distraction from Anything Meaningful Dept: Having finally made it thru the end of the 5th year of "The Walking Dead" on Netflix, I'm dying for the 6th. "Supernatural" ends its 11th year this week. And they said it wouldn't last! Also for a 6th year, "Game of Thrones" recommences in 4 weeks, and I'll be watching this time, finally. HBO made a deal with Roku, and so I can circumvent cable altogether and have HBO for $15 a month. Considering I have all of Netflix for less than $9 a month it's no bargain, but HBO's series are good. It's the $15 a month I used to spend on tobacco. Bring on the White Walkers!

I hope everyone is having lovely Spring and Autumn holidays in whatever tradition you choose. This year is rushing on, with 3 months gone already, and so many going with it.
Peace, fellow babies, and love the one you're with. :)
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March Comes in Like a Liar

Spring is always questionable in New England. It's usually Winter (parte deux), followed by Mud Season, slowly warming along the way. There's something joyous about that time, standing in mud or slush with sun on your face, maybe in just a flannel shirt over a tee. This year, there was Early Summer in Winter. I've worn sandals or clogs all Winter, never touching a sock. And March has been a clammy liar with stringy hair so far. It's way too warm for my liking, though at this point I'm fairly sure I'll be bitching about no Winter and despised warmth until the next time the day's high is 23'F,

Beest had her physical, and the mandatory shots and then 2 weeks later, a scary episode. She was acting strange, which is much stranger than a regular cat's strangeness. Repeatedly jumping in and out of the recycling bin. Not eating all her food. She was constipated. I gave her pumpkin and she was better. Then last Thursday morning there were little splats of watery blood everywhere. Everywhere. She wasn't yowing but she had a crazy look in her eyes. To the vet she went. An anal gland had gotten infected and burst. She had a fever. She must've been in significant pain. My poor cat! The vet gave her a 2-week releasing antibiotic and a pain reliever. I didn't know anal glands were a thing with cats, I thought that was a "some dog breeds" issue. It's a week later and she's her old self. I'm now wigged out whenever there's a spot on the floor, which happens a lot because she's a slob and shakes her head with a mouthful of food.

Gal Friday's daughter had an interview at the Hershey School, so she's been gone. It's both relaxing and stressful to have nobody around all week. However, my neighbor has caretakers 24 hours a day now. People are in and out at every hour.They all have to yell because she's deaf.  I don't know what's going on with her, it's not like we were ever buds. She's close to 90 and hasn't been the same since breaking her hip last year. Her family's been around a lot, never a good sign.

Billy's dumped the Indian twice in the last week, first running into the curb at his neighbor's driveway, then getting back on it too soon. His sugar's thru the roof. I'd like to smack him in the chops.

The Primaries are something out of a dystopian story. I can't even- that way there be monsters.

My Bernie lawn sign came today! Yay!

We're having steak and sea scallops for Easter Sunday! Yay!

I quit smoking. This time it's for good- I'm just really sick of quitting. It's inevitable that I quit for good at some point, so why keep picking it up just to go through quitting again? No. I'm done. Even though I miss it and want one right now, it's not worth quitting again.

Fecebook has been fun, and horrifying, but once the Primaries are done I'm putting it on a shelf. The Beest book needs to become my full time job. Right now it seems important to be on there broadcasting info among groups, but I'm not going to be a Fecebook activist forever.

And life goes on, within us and without us.
Happy Spring, my fellow babies.
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