Confessions of a Rambler...

Digging.

2007-03-20T11:41:00.000-07:00

Another bone to pick with the Bush administration? Let me shed a little light.
As a member of the scientific community, the following article was quick to catch my eye and burn my britches.
The ex-Bush official of topic, Philip Cooney, has no scientific expertise or background; as a matter of fact, when you consider that he is a lawyer, and earned his Bachelor’s degree in economics, it doesn’t take a dean’s list honoree to deduce that he has only basic and minimal documented science education. A climatologist, he is not. An environmental scientist, he is not.
What might have qualified him to be selected as chief of staff of the White House Council on Environmental Quality? Surely he must have had some formal education or training pertaining to biology, environmental science, chemistry, climatology, meteorology, or some other scientific field?
Of course not (and are you really surprised?); before heading the Environmental Quality Council, he was a lobbyist and attorney for the American Petroleum Institute (can anyone say, “conflict of interest?”). He returned to his oily roots in 2005, when he resigned from the Environmental Quality Council and was hired by ExxonMobil. Hmmm….
So what we have is another incompetent government crony…this one taking liberties to edit scientific reports produced by qualified experts. And I’m not talking about grammatical or linguistic editing, but admitted removal of facts, data, and scientific theory. Apparently his inference of a single report provided all necessary data and research for his muddling of the works and research of competent, experienced, and knowledgeable professionals.
In the following article (from MSNBC.com), Cooney feebly defends himself and his moonlighting role as editor of scientific data by offering reference to this separate scientific article. Earlier this month, though, he more logically explained his actions to the house government reform committee, saying underoath in a congressional hearing,
"My sole loyalty was to the President and advancing the policies of his administration."
Fantastic.

Ex-Bush official defends editing climate papers
WASHINGTON - A former White House official accused of improperly editing reports on global warming defended his editing changes Monday, saying they reflected views in a 2001 report by the National Academy of Sciences.
House Democrats said the 181 changes made in three climate reports reflected a consistent attempt to emphasize the uncertainties surrounding the science of climate change and undercut the broad conclusions that man-made emissions are warming the earth.
Philip Cooney, former chief of staff at the White House Council on Environmental Quality, acknowledged at a House hearing that some of the changes he made were "to align these communications with the administration's stated policy" on climate change.
The extent of Cooney's editing of government climate reports first surfaced in 2005. Shortly thereafter, Cooney, a former oil industry lobbyist, left the White House to work at Exxon Mobil Corp.
"My concern is that there was a concerted White House effort to inject uncertainty into the climate debate," said Rep. Henry Waxman, D-Calif., chairman of the House Government Reform Committee.
Cooney's appearance before Waxman's committee Monday was the first time he has spoken publicly, or was extensively questioned, about the issue.
Cooney said that many of the changes he made to the reports — such as uncertainty about the regional impact of climate change and limits on climate modeling — reflected findings of a 2001 National Academy of Sciences report on climate.
Copyright 2007 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

I'm getting too old for this.

2007-03-13T12:33:00.000-07:00

I was up until 2:00 this morning, busy as a bee on methamphetamine. As soon as I got home from work and the errands I had to run (buying bleach for my hair and then going to the grocery store), I started doing housework and other random chores that were overdue. I cleaned Herbie the lizard's cage and all of it's contents, moved my other 50-gallon aquarium into the basement, took a couple of other boxes to the basement, swept the living room and the spare bedroom, changed my bedding, did 4 loads of laundry, washed/dried/put away the dishes, cleaned the toilet, scrubbed the kitchen sink and countertop, took out the garbage, photoshopped a few pictures of Carrie, checked my email and messages, bleached and then put dye on my hair, fed all of the critters (and myself), and finally collapsed.
6:30 came EARLY this morning, especially after losing the hour to daylight savings time only two days ago. And waking up with the furkids all nested around me didn't make it any easier to drag my sorry ass out of bed.
But I made it to work on time, and I've slowly been trying to crawl out of the drowsy haze. Yesterday at work I was productive, as well, and I was able to get more than 20 sample reports out this morning.
It's only Tuesday, but so far I'm having a pretty good week. (=

Good Morning, Laboratory Workers

2007-02-13T08:17:00.000-08:00

One of the many things I love about my job is that I seldom have to deal with the public. Whether it's by phone or face-to-face, there are other folks in the lab (in my area and elsewhere) who deal with the people end of things. However, this morning was an exception.
I hadn't even been in a full half-hour when my phone rang. Let's say I'm a bit hesitant to make judgement on the caller's level of intelligence based on his voice/speech/brief telephone conversation...all things considered, it's been less than 7 years that I've lived in Kansas and it took a lot to achieve my current level of bumpkin-free dialect (still, though, if I'm at all inebriated, I slide back into hickdom). In any case, he had a question, and by golly he wasn't happy that no one had been able to give him a straight-up answer right when he snapped his redneck fingers. (Okay, so I did it anyway.)
Without going into details, let me just say it was WAY too early for him to be talking to me in the manner he was; I don't ever field those kinds of questions, it wasn't even in my area of expertise, and all I could do was tell him I would find the answer for him and call him back. He wasn't happy about that, and he went on to say, "Well you don't know, and the person who I talked to before don't know. Is there anyone there who does? I don't think anyone there knows anything."
"Excuse me, sir," I replied, "I'm a chemist. I run the tests on the samples. I do not deal with what you're asking me for."
Silence.
Remembering then that I'm technically a civil-service employee, I add, "All I can do is find the answer to your question and call you back, or have someone else call you back. I'm not going to put you on hold and waste your time."
He submitted, gave me his name and ph0ne number, and said, "Make sure it's in the next 30 minutes or so. I'm not going to be around here all day."
Click.
(Mine, not his.)
Luckily, my supervisor was in his office (which makes me wonder how in the hell my phone ended up ringing in the first place). I told him the situation and he was on the phone before I left his room.

Apparently, after getting all riled up and calling and bitching and doing his best to ruin my morning, the guy had read his result report incorrectly. So here's where I'll make judgement on his level of intelligence: he's a fucking idiot. Mistakes happen (and I'm talking about HIS mistake in not being able to do his job and decipher a water-analysis report), but whether or not they're stupid mistakes all depends on the reaction of the asshole on the other end of the telephone. I hope he feels like a real dick, because that's exactly what he acted like.

People suck. That's why I work in a lab.

It's happening again...

2007-02-05T08:07:00.000-08:00

I had to talk with my supervisor this morning.
In my in-box, there are 6 sets of samples to be analyzed, the oldest dating 01-22-07. My two new instruments were received the first week of January, and one of them was installed on January 8th; the second instrument's installation was delayed due to a software malfunction, which was corrected by the service/maintenance technician last week (Jan 29th). After nearly a month of instrument assembly, method development, trial injections of standards, and then the running of my method detection limit study, neither instrument is yet operational. The second instrument (we'll call it DB1701) is still in its initial stages of assembly/development/trial injections for ECD analysis. The NPD analysis from that instrument appears to be okay, but then again, it also did on instrument #1 (aka DB5). However, when running and then processing the method detection limit study on DB5, I'm lacking consistent sensitivity and thus consistent, reproducible, reliable results. The ECD analysis from DB5 seems to be working fine, so that's all I'm left with that's working: one available testing method out of 4 that I need.
When I say that it's happening again, I mean the back-log. There are 78 samples that need to be reported, and I don't have a functioning instrument.
When I talked to my supervisor this morning, I told him my concerns, and that I am really afraid that I'm going to end up in the same situation I was in last summer. I said that I took responsibility for those delayed reports, because they were my samples and I felt like I should have been able to get my instruments working, but I can't do it again. He said that we can't report any results using a method that has not passed the EPA MDL-study; I told him that I know this is the case and that is precisely why I'm concerned. It's only a few days short of a month that I've had the instrument(s), and I'm already 78 reports behind. I don't want to dread coming to work every day like I did towards the end of last year. I don't want to end up in the same helpless and hopeless situation. And I am not taking responsibility for the late reports if and when that is the case.
I don't make enough money to keep me here if I'm hating my job.

Killing time....

2007-01-19T13:40:00.000-08:00

1. Do you like chinese food?
Love it!

2. How big is your bed?
Queen size

3. Is your room clean?
Not hardly

4. Laptop or Desktop computer?
I’d love a laptop, but I’ve got a desktop

5. Favorite comedian?
John Stewart

6. Do you smoke?
yep

7. Does anyone like you?
I think so.

8. Whats the sexiest thing about Condoleeza Rice?
I hear she makes a mean chicken cacciatore…

10. Sleep with or without clothes on?
Usually with something on. If the house catches fire, I’m not going to be caught running around in Scranton with no clothes on.

11. Who sleeps with you every night?
Every night I’m at home, Peter, Mary, and Klesko

12. Do long distance relationships work?
Depends on your cell-phone service provider.

13. How many times have you been pulled over by the police?
Good lord…5 or 6 times in the last year, I think.

14. Pancakes or French Toast?
French toast.

15. Do you like coffee?
If I’m in the mood.

16. How do you like your eggs?
Over easy.

17. Do you believe in astrology?
Sure. I think there’s a lot to it.

18. Last person you talked to on the phone?
One of my co-workers.

19. Last person on your missed call list?
Nick

20. What was the last text message you received?
“Ok, be careful.” From Mary…

21. McDonalds or Burger King?
Neither, really, but if I must choose, I’d take McDonald’s. They at least have ice cream.

22. Number of pillows?
As many as possible.

23. Last thing you ate?
A banana

24. Last thing you bought?
liquor

25. What are you hearing right now?
Goldfinger on the computer, my GC running in the background.

26. Pick a lyric?
“Confusion is a fundamental state of mind.” --Bad Religion

27. What kind of jelly do you like on your PB & J sandwich?
strawberry

28. Can you play pool?
Only for comedic relief

29. Do you know how to swim?
Like a fish

30. Favorite ice cream?
Cotton candy ice cream from Maggie Moo’s

31. Do you like maps?
Yes! I depend on them greatly b/c I have no natural sense of direction!

32. Tell me a random fact:
There is snow in the forecast for this weekend.

33. Ever had a hard on at work?
Uh, no.

34. Ever attend a theme party?
Sure.

35. Ever do a keg stand?
Yep.

37. What is your favorite season?
Fall

38. What is the first music video you ever saw?
I honestly don’t remember. Pretty sad.

39. Pick a movie quote:
“Did Doogie Houser just steal my fucking car?”

40. Favorite quote:
“Before my death I hope to obtain my life.” (Charles Bukowski)

41. What is your favorite hangout?
The Scranton Tavern, bitches!

42. Best friend’s name?
Peter

43. How long have you known them?
Since he became my son in 2002

44. Last time you laughed at something stupid?
Uh, all the time—I’m pretty good at laughing at myself.

45. What time did you wake up this morning?
The first time was about 7:30 or so.

46. Wake up next to anyone?
Yeah. (=

47. Best thing about winter?
The escape from the heat. And snow!!

48. Name a couple of favorite colors:
black, pink, yellow, aqua

49. How old are you?
28, almost 29

50. What month is your birthday in?
February

51. Do you think pirates are cool or overrated?
Pirate Jay is pretty cool.

52. Favorite Dave Matthews Band song (if you have one?)
TWO STEP. It’s one of my top 50 songs of all time, actually.

53. What are you doing this weekend?
Hopefully hanging out with Traci and going to see Red Line Chemistry tonight at the Grand Emporium, cooking dinner for Nick on Saturday, and cleaning my house and chilling on Sunday.

54. Who will take this survey?
Don’t know. I’m just killing time.

This is what's been going on back home....

2007-01-18T14:52:00.000-08:00

You think they're trying to lure back an environmental chemist?
Mind you, Brooks is about a half-hour from where my folks live...

Monday:
Kentucky train crash releases chemicals
Jan. 15, 2007, 4:42PM
© 2007 The Associated Press
IRVINE, Ky. — Four runaway rail cars struck two parked locomotives Monday in east-central Kentucky, causing a fire and spilling a chemical that prompted a limited evacuation and orders that others stay indoors.
The crash released butyl acetate, a flammable liquid, from a burning tanker car, authorities said. The fire produced a huge column of black smoke, and a section of the Kentucky River where fuel or chemicals had spilled caught fire. No injuries were reported, authorities said.
The fire in the tanker car was extinguished by 3 p.m. EST, and smaller fires in the locomotives would be allowed to burn themselves out, authorities said.
The burning tanker car contained about 30,000 gallons of butyl acetate, said CSX spokesman Gary Sease. Butyl acetate is commonly used as a solvent or as a synthetic fruit flavoring.
Police ordered people in the immediate area to evacuate, and people in others part of Estill County were told to stay indoors, keep their windows closed and to put towels under doors.
Four CSX rail cars left their track shortly before noon and went onto a main rail line, traveling several miles before hitting the parked CSX locomotives, Sease said. CSX placed the locomotives in the path of the runaway tankers to stop them, said Buddy Rogers, a Kentucky Emergency Management spokesman.
Both the locomotives and rail cars were unmanned, Kentucky State Police Maj. Lisa Rudzinski said.

And then on Tuesday:
Derailment inquiry asks why
Train recorder may offer some answers
By James Bruggersjbruggers@courier-journal.comThe Courier-Journal
Jan. 17, 2007
As a raging chemical blaze began to die back and evacuees began returning home last night [Tuesday]near the scene of a CSX derailment, interest shifted to what a recorder taken from the train could tell about the cause of the wreck that turned Bullitt County upside down.
The recorder may provide clues to why the CSX train and its four locomotives left the rails near Brooks about 8:45 a.m., releasing clouds of black smoke that prompted at least 28 people to seek medical care.
The blaze closed Interstate 65 and forced the evacuation of hundreds from homes, businesses and schools.
I-65 reopened about 7:30 last night but could close again today as hazardous materials are hauled away. No timetable has been set.
Around 8 p.m., people living east of Interstate 65 were allowed to return home.
But Bullitt County Judge-Executive Melanie Roberts warned later that more evacuations could take place if the wind shifts. Residents again would be notified by radio and warnings delivered door-to-door.
The 80-car train, heading from Birmingham, Ala., to Louisville, derailed near Huber Station Road. Twenty-five cars went off the track and at least 14 caught fire. Twelve of those contained hazardous materials, CSX and federal officials said.
But the two Louisville-based train crew members escaped injury, CSX and state officials said. The company declined to identify them.
An unknown chemical was found on the surface of several tributaries to the Salt River last night -- but it was not known if it was runoff from the derailment, said Art Smith of the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency.
Smith said the state, the EPA and CSX are expected to sample the chemicals. The state also will evaluate whether wells in the area may be contaminated, Smith said.
Just before 9 p.m., a wave of fatigued firefighters returned to the command center at Station 1 of the Zoneton district.
Empty Gatorade bottles and Wendy's chili containers remained on the TARC bus that carried nearly 35 firefighters from Okolona, Mount Washington and Zoneton back to the station to rest.
Mark Quire, a Zoneton volunteer firefighter, spent about 12 hours at the derailment before returning to the station but expected to return to the scene at midnight. He said firefighters mostly watched the fire burn, staying nearby in case of an emergency.
Late last night, firefighters had begun flowing foam onto a fire in a hopper car that contains plastic pellets, Zoneton Chief Rob Orkies said.
They were also aiming water from large aerial hoses at the hopper. "The (amount of) water that we are flowing is ungodly -- and we're not making a lot of headway," he said.
Orkies said he was unsure how many cars were still on fire at 10 p.m. The risk of explosion was minimal, he said.
Officials declined to speculate on the cause of the derailment, saying their initial concerns dealt with the safety of people in the area.
The National Transportation Safety Board sent seven investigators and its chairman, Mark Rosenker.
"This is a pretty catastrophic accident as it relates to derailments and a gas evacuation," Rosenker said, adding that the NTSB investigates only 16 to 18 of the 3,000 to 4,000 rail accidents each year.
He said yesterday afternoon that officials were downloading information from the train's recorder to help them determine such factors as its speed and braking. The federal team will be in the area three or four days, he said.
The massive blaze forced the evacuation of everyone within a mile, while other Bullitt County residents were told to stay inside.
It was CSX Transportation's second major train accident within 24 hours in Kentucky, which Gov. Ernie Fletcher said "raises our concern more than normal."
"We regret, obviously, what has happened here," CSX spokesman Bob Sullivan said. "We will work with the investigative agencies to find out what happened and why it happened."
The crash affected thousands.
Among them was Sandy Osborne of Fox Chase, who used blankets and mats to fill cracks under the doorway so that chemicals would not seep in. Several times during the day, Osborne said she watched through windows as smoke billowed into the sky nearby.
She said she first heard about the derailment from her brother, who was watching television. "I heard the fire sirens. He called me and said, 'Turn it on.' "
Margaret Belcher, 82, said she was waiting for her son, Larry, who lives in Fox Chase, to pick her up at her house on Ky. 1020 and take her to safety.
She said she is concerned about the home where she has lived since 1974. "I don't know what to expect," she said.
And Kerri Ducey, a parent with a third-grader at Brooks Elementary, said she saw the news while at work. "It scared the hell out of me," she said, adding that she was going to take her child home.
Eleven evacuated families were staying at a Red Cross shelter last night at Okolona Christian Church, authorities said.
Fletcher said he expects CSX to reimburse state and local officials for the costs involved in responding to the derailment.
Sullivan said CSX would do so and also would assist businesses that lost money.
Another company spokesman, Gary Sease, said company environmental experts at the scene said a combination of the toxic chemicals 1,3-butadiene, cyclohexane and methyl ethyl ketone were burning.
While the train carried a variety of chemicals and other freight, state and local emergency management officials said they were most concerned about the cyclohexane, a colorless liquid used to make nylon and as a solvent.
Its vapors can cause serious lung damage.
Earlier news accounts that liquid propane might have been involved were incorrect, officials said.
Twenty-eight people were treated for eye irritations and respiratory distress, hospital officials said.
Yesterday's derailment was the first since July 9, 2003, in Kentucky involving a CSX train that required an evacuation, according to federal records.
But on Monday, four runaway CSX train cars rolled from near Winchester almost to Irvine, covering 20 miles before they hit two engines and caused an explosion.
Some homes and business were evacuated, but no hazardous materials leaked.
Reporter James Bruggers can be reached at (502) 582-4645.
Laura Ungar, Charlie White, Andrew Wolfson, Jessie Halladay, Daarel Burnette II, Marcus Green and Brandy Warren contributed to this story.

And a better summary/story:
Train Blaze Continues to Burn in Ky.
Train blaze continues to burn in Kentucky; Officials say some spots will have to burn out
BROOKS, Ky., Jan. 17, 2007
By DYLAN T. LOVAN Associated Press Writer

(AP) Thick, billowing smoke and flames fed by volatile chemicals leaking from a derailed train continued to belch into the sky Wednesday, frustrating officials long after the accident shut down a highway and forced evacuations.
Fire officials used 2,000 gallons of foam and an "ungodly amount" amount of water to extinguish some of the flames, but other spots will likely have to burn out on their own, expected later Wednesday.
Foam has proven more effective, said Maj. Garry Key of the Zoneton Fire Department. "The foam smothers the flames."
The derailment Tuesday morning caused no serious injuries, but at least 11 people near the crash site south of Louisville checked themselves into a hospital and were soon released, authorities said. Officials asked residents within a mile to evacuate.
The blaze produced a large column of black smoke in the mostly rural area. Television footage showed several blazing CSX cars stacked across the rail lines and flaming liquid flowing down ditches from the mangled tanker cars.
Bullitt County resident Daymon Strange said he was outside his home less than a half-mile from the crash site when he heard an explosion.
"I turned around and looked and there was fire at least 500 feet in the air," he said in a telephone interview. "I've never seen such a fire. It was huge."
The chemicals released when 12 of the train cars derailed were cyclohexane, methyl ethyl ketone, butadiene and alcohol, said Gary Sease, a CSX spokesman.
"These substances themselves are pretty toxic, but when they burn they break down a whole lot," said Jeremey Urekew, a spokesman for Bullitt County Emergency Management. "This fire is going to burn itself out."
Two other cars were carrying hazardous materials that could pose an environmental threat, but they were not near the fire. The train _ with four locomotives and 80 cars _ was headed to Louisville from Birmingham, Ala.
The crash closed an 18-mile stretch of Interstate 65 for about 11 hours. The Kentucky National Guard said it mobilized 20 to 25 soldiers and airmen to check air quality.
Art Smith of the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency said officials would continue to monitor the air and that a nearby creek would be sampled and private wells identified for monitoring.
The Red Cross set up a shelter in neighboring Jefferson County for evacuees, but only about a dozen people had checked, said William Ney, a volunteer.
Mark Rosenker, chairman of the National Transportation Safety Board, said the event recorder from the train would be sent to Washington for reading.
The track had been inspected by CSX inspectors on Monday, Rosenker said. Results of toxicology tests performed on the two-man crew were expected within two weeks, he said.
It was the second fiery train crash in Kentucky in two days. On Monday, four runaway rail cars struck two parked locomotives in central Kentucky, catching fire and spilling a chemical that prompted a limited evacuation.
©MMVII The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.

CHEMICALS INVOLVED

Bullitt County and CSX officials have identified these chemicals as being involved in the explosion and fire on the train:
Cyclohexane--A colorless liquid with a faint, ether-like odor used in the production of nylon and as a solvent. The chemical is extremely flammable as both a liquid and vapor. It irritates the respiratory tract and can cause severe lung damage. High concentrations can have a narcotic effect. It can cause abdominal pain and nausea. It also can irritate the skin, causing redness, itching and pain. If released into the soil, it is expected to evaporate quickly, although some may leach into groundwater. If released into open water, it is expected to evaporate quickly but is considered slightly toxic to aquatic life.
Methyl ethyl ketone--A colorless liquid with a sharp, mint-like odor used as an industrial solvent and in the production of synthetic rubber. The chemical is extremely flammable as both a liquid and vapor. It irritates the nose and throat and may cause headache, dizziness, nausea, shortness of breath and vomiting. Higher concentrations may damage the central nervous system and cause the victim to lose consciousness. Breathing the chemical can cause severe lung damage. Can irritate and destroy fat in the skin and possibly cause dermatitis. Vapors are irritating to the eyes. If released into the soil, it is expected to evaporate to a moderate extent, although some may leach into groundwater. If released into open water, it is expected to evaporate to a moderate extent and is not considered toxic to aquatic life.
1,3-butadiene--A colorless gas with a sharp, aromatic odor used in the manufacture of synthetic rubber.The chemical is highly flammable. Exposure to 1,3-butadiene by inhalation in humans results in irritation of the eyes, nasal passages, throat and lungs. In higher concentrations, the chemical can cause respiratory paralysis and death. Neurological effects, such as blurred vision, fatigue, headache and vertigo, have also been reported at very high exposure levels. Long-term exposure can cause cancer in humans.
Sources: Mallinckrodt Baker Inc., BOC Gases

14 minutes till the next sample injection...

2007-01-18T11:36:00.000-08:00

Would you do this?
1. Join the Military or the Mob?	The mob. Even if you get sent to jail, there's free high-speed internet.
2. Turn a close friend in if they committed a serious offense ex. murder?	Probably not. It would have to be pretty damn extreme, b/c my friends can pretty much rationalize anything to my satisfaction.
3. Make one porno if it meant never having to work again?	Hmm....I suppose I'd consider it.
4. Cheat on your bf/gf with your biggest crush if there was no possibility that they would EVER find out?	that's gross. my biggest crush ever is dead.
5. Eat spoiled food from the garbage or go hungry?	hungry. hunger is less painful than e-coli.
What if...
1. In your relationship you find out you are going to have a baby but one of you doesn't want it. Who has the right to choose?	This question doesn't apply to me, but obviously the woman is the one who has to carry and birth the damn thing. I say she has the right, but there are some serious changes that need to be made to the paternal-rights system as it is in our country today.
2. Your partner had to work overseas for a year, would you consider playing around?	it would depend on how I truly felt about him, but equal rules would apply to us both.
3. You find out before having sex for the first time with your partner that they have a highly contagious STD, would you still have sex with them?	FUCK NO. Are you fucking kidding me?
4. You are in a serious accident in the middle of nowhere and your only chance of survival is to cut off your own arm, would you do it?	yes
5. You had to kill a member of your family if it meant you would save thousands of lives, would you?	do I get to pick which one? that might be fun....
Yes or No
1. Have you had cyber-sex?	yes
2. Would you masturbate in front of your partner?	yes
3. Would you tell your partner (who you really love) that they are bad in bed?	yes...but I'd give directions.
4. While having sex, have you ever thought about someone else to keep you turned on?	never had to, that I remember.
5. Have you ever looked at a family member and felt sexually attracted to them?	that's just fucking sick.
What do you think?
1. Gay marriage is wrong?	I think all marriage is wrong. (=
2. The night of your best-friend's wedding their fiance comes on to you, should you tell your best-friend?	YES, but first I maim him so he can't show up to the wedding and she has time to rethink the situation.
3. You catch one of your parents having a one-night-stand, should you tell the other parent?	Heh...it depends on which parent we're talking about.
4. Your partner wants to go to a "swingers" club, would you go to keep your partner happy?	Sure
5. You are about to tell your spouse that you want a divorce but they just found out that a close family member is dying, do you still tell them?	Yes! Pass me the salt so I can pour it in those wounds!
Finale!
1. Would you/Have you ever fake illness to get attention?	No...don't want to push my luck there. Usually don't need any help in getting sick or getting attention. (=
2. You are the first to arrive at the scene of an accident but it turns out that the person hurt is your worst enemy, do you help or walk away?	I point and laugh.
3. You have a non life threatening sexual disease, would you have a one night stand without telling the person?	NO. That's fucked up, and karma is a bitch.
4. Do you think it is important to tell the truth or spare someones feelings?	It would depend on which mattered more: the truth at hand, or the feelings of the person in question.
5. Do you think this survey was truly original?	they never are.
Take this survey / PimpSurveys.com

Makin me smile (and showin my dimples)

2006-12-21T07:46:00.000-08:00

Let's see if this works. I haven't tried to post pictures in a while....

My boyfriend is adorable. Please excuse the mess that was me...it was halloween for shitsakes.

I can't believe it's down to 2

2006-12-20T15:13:00.000-08:00

Not days before christmas, assholes (obviously). But, my back-log of samples at work is down to 2. From almost 200 at one point. I thought I'd have to quit before it would all get done. Thankfully, that's not the case.
And, as far as that whole situation goes, I still think it was a bit unfair that I was blamed for the entire debacle. With my GCs failing all summer, how was I supposed to stay caught up on the work load? However, they were (WERE!!) my samples, so I completely take responsibility. I'm just not too happy about doing so. Anyway, all that said, my supervisor has been amazingly helpful in all of this progress. He told me once that he doesn't let people fail, and he won't set people up to fail. And, he showed me. And, we're down to 2. I wouldn't have been at all this far along had he not been doing so much. As sick and scatterbrained as I've been (yes, even more so than normal), I have no idea where I'd be on the work list.

Speaking of being sick and scatterbrained, I finally went to the doctor yesterday morning. Let me tell you--it was a total relief. I really should have gone earlier. I had to miss work and sit in the doctor's office and dick around for the majority of the morning all to hear that I'm not getting enough sleep, not eating right and not eating enough, and that my afflictions are all likely due to stress. Hallelujah. I'm glad they cleared that up for me.

The 7-second radio delay does bother me, though. That's the moniker I've given to my state of being a bit [more] slow and foggy lately... It's like there's a 7-second delay before I actually comprehend something someone tells me. And of course, the conversation will have already progressed by the time I am able to follow what's going on. I think I might be braindamaged. At least that's what it feels like sometimes. Needless to say, this issue is one that irritates not only me, but generally most people who are trying to tell me things I need to do or things that I really need to understand. Like I said, braindamaged.

One of the really good things that has happened recently? I'm no longer alone in the desperate isolation that is Scranton Kansas! Miss Mary Massacre has moved in with me for a while. I'm not sure how long I can convince her to stay with me, considering I think she may have already fallen into the depressing pit of boredom and seclusion that I have to actually pay property taxes on. I feel a bit bad that I've dragged her out into my personal little shit-hole, but I'm not sure she's miserable quite yet. We do have a horrible lot of fun together, whether it's bouts of throwing shit away (considering it's been 9 months since I've lived in my house and the place is still strewn with boxes and crap), or sitting on the couch watching movies with the kitties. There are a handful of people who I have absolutely no shame around, and she is definitely one of them. If you're going to live with someone, it's best to have that kind of relationship. If that person hears you getting your ass slapped in the middle of the night, they're allowed to tease you later, but not allowed to interrupt or bang on the wall. It's respected like that.
In any case, the locals seem to have adjusted to her arrival quite well. My neighbors Virgil and Shirley have stopped looking out their windows, and the people at Casey's General Store up the road know her brand of cigarettes now. I still can't wait until warmer weather when we can sit on the front porch smoking cigarettes on Sunday mornings when the streets are lined with church-goers and their cars. Fun times ahead!

So here we are, 5 days before christmas, and I think I may have everyone's gifts in line. My folks and my sister and her husband are getting framed pictures that I've done, as are a few other friends of mine (I also got my mom a framed photo of Barbaro crossing the line at the Kentucky Derby, signed by Edgar Prado). Traci and Des are taken care of, Nick's is still in transit, Kurt's is about 10 minutes from being complete, Mary's getting a gallon of Vodka, I did a painting for Jess, so forth and so on. There are still a couple of other things that I do have to get, but they'll be easy. This is really the first year that I haven't really been obligated to buy for a lot of people. There's my family, of course, but most of my friends and I kind of have a no-gift or home-made gift kind of policy. Shit, they know I'm broke, and most of them can't afford to spend a million pennies, so it all works out. Best part about exchanging gifts is the actual exchange--getting together with the people I hardly ever get to see, and showing them somethin real purty that I done made for em. And drinking and partying and eating lots of food that my doctor wouldn't be thrilled about (but will probably make me sick later on). Only one problem, though. I've made up a few set-lists of songs for mix-cds that I want to give to people, but my computer is still on the fuck. So, I'm probably going to end up paying someone to make them for me, but that's okay, right? They're still home-made?

Last night I came across the mix tape that Hunter made for me before I moved to Kansas. I thought I was going to lose it, but thankfully Mary was there to stare at me until I stopped crying. I miss him so much. It's fucked up how I don't even really want to go back to Kentucky now. It's not like he was the only person I visited when I made my annual pilgrimage. It's still too hard for me to imagine having the strength to walk back into that cemetery that I used to visit so often. The last time was more than a year ago now, and I'm certain he has a headstone by this point. But I don't know if I can handle it. I don't know that I'm ever going to be able to handle that loss, especially considering that I once made the choice to let him go. When given an ultimatum, I didn't choose him. Of course I had no idea that the person who gave me that ultimatum (and the one who I chose) would no longer be a part of my life, and I never thought Hunter would be gone so soon. I have said it before, and I'll say it a million times and forever--I will never be given an ultimatum like that again. That would be one of the easiest decisions of my life.

Ugh...no more of that babble, which I seemingly fall into every time I sit down to type. Ah, it's just something about the holidays that brings it out of me. The whole season gets me down, kind of like that churchman got my panties down more than 20 years ago--right around this time of year. Children's christmas bible studies are the best! The only thing better would be the little performances that the kiddies do on sunday nights. I'm sure the whole congregation gets a kick out of those, some for better reason than others.
It's funny how vividly you remember things sometimes.

So deck the halls, folks. I can't wait till 200fucking7.

xo,
m

I'm back

2006-12-08T09:45:00.000-08:00

So I can't get on the myspace at work, and my computer at home is on it's death bed, so I have to write somewhere. And here it is. Not much today except an article that I found on MSNBC.com....:

Mom indicted in baby-microwaving case
Ohio woman faces aggravated murder charge in death of 1-month-old

DAYTON, Ohio - A woman suspected of killing her month-old daughter by putting her in a microwave oven was indicted on a charge of aggravated murder Thursday, and the prosecutor said he would seek the death penalty.
The indictment against China Arnold, 26, does not provide details on the death of Paris Talley.
Investigators have said evidence that includes high-heat internal injuries and the absence of external burn marks on the baby were consistent with a microwave oven. The baby died on Aug. 30, 2005. Her mother was arrested last week.
"The Montgomery County coroner came to the conclusion that the injuries sustained by this baby could have only been caused by being placed into a microwave oven and having that oven turned on and (cooking) the baby to death," Montgomery Country Prosecutor Mathias Heck Jr. said at a news conference.
Heck declined to discuss a possible motive or release any other details about the case. He said Arnold would be subject to the death penalty if convicted because the victim was a child.
Defense attorney Jon Paul said Arnold had nothing to do with her child's death. He said Arnold and the child's father had left Paris with a baby sitter the night before she found the baby unconscious.
"China has the moral courage and the confidence in her God that the truth will come out in this case," Rion said. "We will seek every single way possible to communicate to our government and to the jury in this case that China is innocent of all the charges."
Arnold is being held on $1 million bond. Heck said he will ask the court to order her held without bail at a hearing Tuesday.

© 2006 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Red Underwear

2006-05-26T13:42:00.000-07:00

I know I've been seriously neglecting the blog lately. Blame freakin myspace!

Your Lucky Underwear Is Red

You're confident and bold, and your lucky red underwear will only make you more sure of yourself.You have a great zest for life, and you tend to take on impossible goals - and succeed.
When it comes to love, it's hard for you to take the time to open up. You're too busy conquering the world.So if you're looking for a little more romance, put on your red underpants. And see where their passion takes you!

What Color Is Your Lucky Underwear?

Fw: Fun!!

2006-03-07T11:30:00.000-08:00

I've been tagged... so here it goes...delete my answers, replace with your own and send it back to me and on to other friends! Four jobs you have had in your life: 1. Chemist (Environmental) 2. Certifying Scientist (Certifying drug test results) 3. Body Piercer 4. retail in a record/music store Four movies you would watch over and over: 1. Goodfellas 2. Napoleon Dynamite 3. The Usual Suspects 4. The Wizard of Oz
Four places you have lived: 1. North Carolina 2. Richmond, Kentucky 3. Elizabethtown, Kentucky 4. Kansas Four TV shows you love to watch: 1. The Surreal Life 2. The Flavor of Love 3. Headbanger's Ball 4. Intervention Four places you have been on vacation: 1. New York City 2. New Orleans 3. Eureka Springs, Arkansas 4. the Outer Banks, NC
Four websites I visit daily: 1. CNN.com 2. msn.com 3. google 4. KS home page Four of my favorite foods: 1. Ice Cream 2. Pizza 3. a good sirloin steak 4. baked sweet potato with marshmallow, butter, and brown sugar Four places I would rather be right now: 1. my new house (moving in or painting) 2. outside 3. Kentucky 4. at a concert

Don't be afraid to bring me flowers....

2006-02-26T19:30:00.000-08:00

You Are a Tulip

You have a wild, experimental side that craves change.You often switch jobs and men, always looking for something better.But deep down, you're also very well grounded and content.And you will come to know that the life you live is already ideal.

What Flower Are You?

Don't know why anyone would still be reading, but....

2006-02-25T20:54:00.000-08:00

To get me started on catching things up (since I've become a mySpace addict and can't seem to get over to this blog often enough)...I'll share this with you:

Your Love Life Secrets Are

Looking back on your life, you will have a few true loves.
You're a little scarred from your past relationships, but who isn't?
You expect a lot from your lover - you want the full package. You tend to be very picky.
In fights, you speak your mind and don't hold back. You know you're right, and you can get quite angry about it.
Break-ups can be painful for you, but you never show it. You hold your head high.

Your Love Life Secrets, Revealed

All of that being said, the Hub (from now on B) and I are divorcing.

Things have been crazy. Things have been stressful. B and I have learned more about each other in the last 6 months than we have in 6 years. That being said, let me recap some of the things we recently learned about one another:
1. I have issues about having to be independent.
1a. B prefers to have a partner who needs him, a person who is okay with being dependent upon her man.
2. My friends are my family.
2a. B's family are his friends.
3. I need privacy; separate finances and expenses, and perhaps even separate living quarters. A relationship based upon want and not need.
3a. B feels that a successful marriage/relationship is one that is shared, and what's yours is mine/what's mine is yours. Everything is brought to the table equally and jointly.
4. I want to go out and get involved with life...I'm in it to get down and dirty; to do what it takes to make me feel that by the end of my (55) years, I have lived and enjoyed my life. I want to come home from a night out (at a concert or just out dancing) and be sore for the next 2 days. I'll wear my scars as my scout badges.
4a. B creates his own life. Everything is in his control, and if he can come out of this thing with having just as good a time (and for him that would be enjoying something but not coming home with a broken nose and bruises), he's going to take that option. There is no need to do anything erratic or make an ass out of yourself.
5. I am rarely serious. I'm a joker, a smartass, a cynic, and have a very twisted sense of humor to boot. If I'm going to have fun, I'm going to be laughing.
5a. B is very serious. He is wise for a man younger than I, and he broods and worries and thinks about all possible consequences of every action/decision he makes. He's a good judge of character and he can think about the future (and how to define it) beyond my general capacity of 5-or-less years.
6. Because my friends are very important to me, and I've learned some damn hard lessons in the past year about not keeping in touch with people I care for, there are going to be some times when I am not able to devote time and attention equally. My man is the one I come home to and sleep with, the only one who ultimately is getting some at the end of the day. My ideal relationship would be one that goes with the dynamic of my roller-coaster life, and perhaps may have things going on of his own, as well.
6a. B feels that his good match would be with a person who could (and would want to) give him the majority of her attention/time. They would have a lot of down time together, and they would seldom do things independently of one another. He wants more than just a warm body in the bed next to him (who he may not get to see/spend time with every day).
7. I am totally willing to be poor for the sake of being happy, and more than likely, I'll compromise on some crazy things in order to get what I want. For example, moving into a tiny little house in a town called Scranton, Kansas...for the sake of having a total house payment (loan/insurance/taxes) less than $400 a month. {I will say, though, that it is cuter than hell.} My rationale: if my total house payment is less than $400 a month, I will have lots of extra money to start saving for more tattoos, lasik, and laser hair removal, among other things. I can make any house my own, so long as it's not going to fall down around me while I'm sleeping. Put me in a place/situation, and I can almost always have a good time.
7b. B wants nice things, and he wants to be able to have the things he enjoys, but he doesn't want to compromise the bank account. To him, it's necessary to not let the checking balance get below $3-400. You should always save your money, even if you don't know what you're saving it for. He works hard at his job, whether he likes it or not, because he makes the right amount of money to allow him to live a specific lifestyle. He has standards when it comes to appearance and cleanliness, and those are pretty high.

Well, like I said, I'm only going to list a few. There are many more...issues and characteristics that he and I would both call "dealbreakers," that the other possesses. They say love is blind, and I now know what they mean. Eventually you have to get to a point where you start really knowing your mate, and you have to know what you want out of your life. If those things are not compatible, certainly your paths crossed for a reason, but perhaps are now going in separate directions. In a perfect world, I figure everyone would only fall in love with a person who they were going to be compatible with for the rest of their lives. But humans are still too primitive when it comes to emotion. We don't use our brains to dictate our choices; instead, we far too often 'think' with our hearts, hopes, emotions, and hormones, completely bypassing thought and logic and reason.
Thing is, B and I still love each other very much. That's one reason we both feel that by separating on good terms now, we're sparing ourselves what could likely turn ugly in time. People can only stomach so much resentment, tension, and disagreement, no matter how much they may love someone else (like the guy who killed his roommate over using the last of the toilet paper). We want each other to be happy, but we both want to be happy as well. It's hard to imagine what life is going to be like without him always by my side, but he needs a break and I need to be set free. He doesn't enjoy the rollercoaster; he wants a nice, quiet, private life that is both stable and comfortable.
The whole point is, we're both certain that we can't meet each other's respective needs. In a (well defined) friendship, we would be able to hold on to some of the things that we loved about one another, without having to be responsible for the dealbreakers that go with it. Ambitious, you say? I'm sure. Am I going to have nights where I cry myself to sleep? You bet. Are there going to be times I want to be hugging him instead of the dog? Absolutely. This is likely going to be one of the hardest things that either of us do, but we have so much more to look forward to if we get past this obstacle gracefully.

Until later, my friends.

Well, this is refreshing...

2006-02-06T10:10:00.001-08:00

You Will Die at Age 55

55

Not bad, considering your super wild lifestyle
Want to live longer? Try losing a few bad habits.

What Age Will You Die?

Handwriting analysis

2006-02-02T15:38:00.000-08:00

Found this on www.handwritingwizard.com. Pretty interesting, and for the most part, pretty damn accurate.

For a graphologist, the spacing on the page reflects the writer's attitude toward their own world and relationship to things in his or her own space. If the inputted data was correct Dora has left lots of white space on the left side of the paper. Dora fills up the rest of the page in a normal fashion. If this is true, then Dora has a healthy relationship to the past and is ready to move on. The right side of the page represents the future and Dora is ready and willing to get started living now and planning for the future. Dora would like to leave the past behind and move on.

Dora has a very unusual lower zone y loop. If the data input is correct, Dora's y or g is large and opens up to the left side of the page. This is not a common trait, but the implications are very interesting. As you begin to study handwriting analysis, you will learn any loop indicates imagination. This lower loop indicates the amount of imagination Dora has regarding sex and physical things. So, her lower zone stroke is large, so her sexual imagination is large and open. Furthermore, because the loop is incomplete and extends to the left, this indicates a particular fascination with certain aspects of sexuality that have not been fulfilled, yet. In a nutshell, Dora is open to some very new ideas sexually and is willing to try anything once.

Dora has a healthy imagination and displays a fair amount of trust. She lets new people into her circle of friends. She uses her imagination to understand new ideas, things, and people.

Dora is very self-sufficient. She is trying not to need anyone. She is capable of making it on her own. She probably wants and enjoys people, but she doesn't "need" them. She can be a loner.

Dora has a temper. She uses this as a defense mechanism when she doesn't understand how to handle a situation. Temper is a hostile trait used to protect the ego. Temper can be a negative personality trait in the eyes of those around her.

Dora is sarcastic. This is a defense mechanism designed to protect her ego when she feels hurt. She pokes people harder than she gets poked. These sarcastic remarks can be very funny. They can also be harsh, bitter, and caustic at the same time.

Dora is a practical person whose goals are planned, practical, and down to earth. This is typical of people with normal healthy self-esteem. She needs to visualize the end of a project before she starts. she finds joy in anticipation and planning. Notice that I said she plans everything she is going to do, that doesn't necessarily mean things go as planned. Dora basically feels good about herself. She has a positive self-esteem which contributes to her success. She feels she has the ability to achieve anything she sets her mind to. However, she sets her goals using practicality-- not too "out of reach". She has enough self-confidence to leave a bad situation, yet, she will not take great risks, as they relate to her goals. A good esteem is one key to a happy life. Although there is room for improvement in the confidence catagery, her self-perception is better than average.

In reference to Dora's mental abilities, she has a very investigating and creating mind. She investigates projects rapidly because she is curious about many things. She gets involved in many projects that seem good at the beginning, but she soon must slow down and look at all the angles. She probably gets too many things going at once. When Dora slows down, then she becomes more creative than before. Since it takes time to be creative, she must slow down to do it. She then decides what projects she has time to finish. Thus she finishes at a slower pace than when she started the project. She has the best of two kinds of minds. One is the quick investigating mind. The other is the creative mind. Her mind thinks quick and rapidly in the investigative mode. She can learn quicker, investigate more, and think faster. Dora can then switch into her low gear. When she is in the slower mode, she can be creative, remember longer and stack facts in a logical manner. She is more logical this way and can climb mental mountains with a much better grip.

Dora is secretive. She has secrets which she does not wish to share with others. She intentionally conceals things about herself. She has a private side that she intends to keep that way, especially concerning certain events in her past.

Dora is sensitive to criticism about her ideas and philosophies. She will sometimes worry what people will think if she tells them what she believes in. This doesn't mean she won't talk, or that she feels ashamed. It merely means she is sensitive to what others think, regarding her beliefs.

Dora is moderately outgoing. Her emotions are stirred by sympathy and heart rendering stories. In fact, she can be kind, friendly, affectionate and considerate of others. She has the ability to put herself into the other person's shoes. Dora will be somewhat moody, with highs and lows. Sometimes she will be happy, the next day she might be sad. She has the unique ability to get along equally well with what psychology calls introverts and extroverts. This is because she is in between. Psychology calls Dora an ambivert. She understands the needs of both types. Although they get along, she will not tolerate anyone that is too "far out." She doesn't sway too far one way or the other. When convincing her to buy a product or an idea, a heart rendering story could mean a great deal to her. She puts herself in the same situation as the person in the story, yet she will not buy anything that seems overly impractical or illogical. Dora is an expressive person. She outwardly shows her emotions. She may even show traces of tears when hearing a sad story. Dora is a "middle-of-the-roader," politically as well as logically. She weighs both sides of an issue, sits on the fence, and then will decide when she finally has to. She basically doesn't relate to any far out ideas and usually won't go to the extreme on any issue.

People that write their letters in an average height and average size are moderate in their ability to interact socially. According to the data input, Dora doesn't write too large or too small, indicating a balanced ability to be social and interact with others.

According to the inputted data, Dora has a stinger shape inside the oval of her a, d, or c. This might be hard to visualize, but if this little hooklike shape is present, then Dora has an unresolved "issue" with strong members of the opposite gender. An occasional appearance of this stroke could indicate a simple "loves a mental challenge" which can manifest in playful linguistic conversations and being attracted to a lover who isn't always available. However, if the stroke is severe, this means the individual has unresolved anger at the oppostive gender - which usually started with the person's childhood relationship with the opposite gender parent (Mom or Dad). If the writer is a woman she will be attracted to strong challenging men. If the writer is a man, he will find the woman who is "hard to get" the most attractive. In a nutshell, people with stingers in their writing tend to have challenges in their romantic relationships. For more information about this "stinger" trait, visit this webpage: http://www.myhandwriting.com/analyze/hlltrt5.html. Remember, it is only negative if the traits occurs often and is quite pronounced. An occasional stinger can be no problem.

Goddamm MySpace

2006-01-31T16:38:00.000-08:00

It's official:
I'm a MySpace addict.
Sad, yes; pathetic, sure; but am I alone?
I think not.
Let's face it, cyber relationships are wonderful. Make "friends", find people with similar interests, look up people from your past and read all about how their life sucks now as much as yours does, and find some kind of self-validation in that fact. It's fun, and relatively nonthreatening.

On another note, though, it's less than 2 weeks until my 28th birthday. Seeing as how I don't plan to live much past 60-65, I think that this is the perfect time for a mid-life crisis. So,,, my hair is blue, my lip is pierced, I've smoked more clove cigarettes in the past few days than I've eaten meals, and I have a new tattoo. Granted, the tattoo had been planned for some time now, but the timing allows it to be added to the list.
It's funny, though. For some reason, I don't feel like I'm in "crisis." Okay, so my marriage is strained, we're putting our house on the market, and I've yet to do our taxes this year, but other than that, I feel more like myself than I have in years. I have no idea what has taken place inside my little brain, but I think if I fail to embrace these changes, I will regret it later.
My poor husband. I will be the first to admit that I am an incredibly difficult person to live with. I'm flighty, irresponsible, loud, obnoxious, and have absolutely no concept of time. I'm a lousy housekeeper, I don't like to cook, and I never make the bed or fold my laundry. When all of these normal personality characteristics appear simultaneously, you're going to love me or hate me. And I think he hates me.
More than anything, I just want the freedom to be myself. In converse to the qualities listed above, I'm also a fun-loving, happy-go-lucky, strong, gentle, kind, and loving person. I don't want to drive anyone crazy, but goddammit, I want to be happy, too.

Enough of that.
Sorry for the emotional outburst.

Went to see Cake last week, and it was awesome (as expected). I appreciate the fact that they don't play by a setlist, although that is my favorite collector's item from shows I've seen (much better than someone's sloppy signature). And, this time (unlike when I saw them last summer), they played Short Skirt, Long Jacket. They also played Wheels, which I do believe is my favorite track off of their last album.
One of the best things about the show, you might ask? (okay, even if you didn't, I'm telling you anyway) : Gogol Bordello, one of the opening acts.
Tegan and Sara performed after Gogol Bordello, and they were good, but I would not have wanted to follow the first act. I'm surprised there was anything left of the stage. Just when you thought it was as crazy as it could get, there would be another girl with a thick accent come out screaming, dancing, and playing a giant drum. It was great. They describe themselves as "Gypsy Punks," and at moments reminded me of Rancid, Flogging Molly, and even System of a Down. They're perhaps one of the most unique acts I've ever seen, and they have given me a new aspiration in life:
To be a punk violinist.
Of course, I don't still have my violin. I do, however, still have my oboe.
I wonder if they could use a punk oboe to go with their punk violin and punk accordian?

The Tears are Gone

2006-01-19T12:39:00.000-08:00

Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole.
Just like a faucet that leaks, and there is comfort in the sound.
But while you debate half empty or half full,
It slowly rises; your love is gonna drown.
~Death Cab for Cutie

Why does the perfect sad song to describe your situation always seem to play when you're most vulnerable? I love the newest Death Cab for Cutie Album, Plans, and I've added the songs to my computer library at work. However, even though I have the playlist set on shuffle, I hear "Marching Bands of Manhattan" over and over and over....it almost seems like every third song. Because it's such a beautiful song, I would normally never complain, but the verses above hit a little too close to home.
As my heart rips open for the umpteenth time in less than a year, I can't feel it anymore. I'm numb. Self-protection, perhaps, but not really a good sign...when I cut myself off from emotion, it means all emotion. I lived this way for years in the past, and though I enjoyed the freedom at the time, I'm at a point in life now where there are positive feelings/emotions available, and I find myself throwing them away.

Should I give up?

2006-01-18T13:27:00.000-08:00

You Should Get a MFA (Masters of Fine Arts)

You're a blooming artistic talent, even if you aren't quite convinced.You'd make an incredible artist, photographer, or film maker.

What Advanced Degree Should You Get?

Accuracy, again....how do they do it?

2006-01-18T13:21:00.000-08:00

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and free.
In love, you feel the most alive when your lover is creative and never lets you feel bored.
You'd like to your lover to think you are stylish and alluring.
You would be forced to break up with someone who was insecure and in constant need of reassurance.
Your ideal relationship is lasting. You want a relationship that looks to the future... one you can grow with.
Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment.
You think of marriage something you've always wanted... though you haven't really thought about it.
In this moment, you think of love as commitment. Love only works when both people are totally devoted.

What Are The Keys To Your Heart?

Carried away?

2006-01-18T13:10:00.000-08:00

Your Monster Profile

Brutal Ogre
You Feast On: Olives
You Lurk Around In: Sewers
You Especially Like to Torment: Pop Stars

What's" Your Monster Name?

Are you an addict after 3?

2006-01-18T12:45:00.000-08:00

Your Scholastic Strength Is Developing Ideas

You can take a spark of inspiration and turn it into a full fledged concept.You are talented at brainstorming, visualizing, organizing, and independent thinking.
You should major in:
Natural sciencesComputer scienceCreative writingMathArchitectureJournalism

What Should You Major In?

Wow. I'm amazed at the accuracy....

2006-01-18T12:37:00.000-08:00

You Were a Raccoon

You are a master of disguise and multiple personas.You are infinitely curious and question others without fear.

What Animal Were You In a Past Life?

Who would have known?

2006-01-18T12:34:00.000-08:00

You're A Passed Out Drunk

Drinking gives you that warm fuzzy feeling, until you're thrown in the back of a police car...

What Kind of Drunk Are You?

This is what I like to see...The Truth!

2006-01-17T12:24:00.000-08:00

Again, from CNN.com:

Sen. Clinton: House 'has been run like a plantation'
New York senator call Bush Administration 'one of the worst'

Tuesday, January 17, 2006; Posted: 10:17 a.m. EST (15:17 GMT)

NEW YORK (AP) -- Sen. Hillary Clinton on Monday blasted the Bush administration as "one of the worst" in U.S. history and compared the Republican-controlled House of Representatives to a plantation where dissenting voices are squelched.

Speaking during a Martin Luther King Jr. Day event, Clinton also offered an apology to a group of Hurricane Katrina survivors "on behalf of a government that left you behind, that turned its back on you." Her remarks were met with thunderous applause by a mostly black audience at the Canaan Baptist Church of Christ in Harlem.

The House "has been run like a plantation, and you know what I'm talking about," said Clinton, D-New York. "It has been run in a way so that nobody with a contrary view has had a chance to present legislation, to make an argument, to be heard."

"We have a culture of corruption, we have cronyism, we have incompetence," she said. "I predict to you that this administration will go down in history as one of the worst that has ever governed our country."

A spokeswoman for the White House declined to comment and referred questions to the Republican National Committee.

RNC spokeswoman Tracey Schmitt said: "On a day when Americans are focused on the legacy of Martin Luther King, Hillary Clinton is focused on the legacy of Hillary Clinton."

I love the comment by the RNC spokeswoman. When in trouble, attack, attack, attack! (I'm imagining a psychotic pomeranian with it's eyes popping out of its head as it snarls and spits.) In allowing those comments, though, isn't the RNC doing exactly what HRC said? "Nobody with a contrary view has had a chance...to be heard." Hmmm.....
To leave you, and to illustrate how f'd up this country still is, I'll close with a quote from the big Bush's VP Dan "The Man" Quayle;
"Unfortunately, the people of Louisiana are not racists."
Happy belated MLK Jr holiday everyone, and remember that friends don't let friends vote republican.

Grab the duct tape and bottled water, everyone...

2006-01-17T12:21:00.000-08:00

U.S.: 'Very high' chance of WMD terror strike

Tuesday, January 17, 2006; Posted: 3:43 a.m. EST (08:43 GMT)

LONDON, England (AP) -- There is a "very high" probability that a terrorist group will strike using nuclear, chemical or biological weapons, a senior U.S. counterterrorism official said in comments published Tuesday.

"I rate the probability of terror groups using (weapons of mass destruction) as very high," U.S. State Department counterterrorism coordinator Henry Crumpton was quoted as saying by the Daily Telegraph newspaper. "It is simply a question of time."

Crumpton said a biological attack was potentially the most troubling scenario. He said evidence from Afghanistan suggested al-Qaeda had been seeking to develop anthrax before the overthrow of the Taliban regime in 2001.

"It is not just the nuclear threat that bothers me," he was quoted as saying. "I think, if anything, the biological threat is going to grow."

"As catastrophic as a nuclear attack would be, it would be self-contained. But if you look at a worst-case scenario for a biological attack, it would be difficult to determine whether or not it was a terrorist attack, and it would be far more difficult to contain."

Crumpton told the newspaper that U.S. and international efforts had severely disrupted the al-Qaeda network since the September 11, 2001, attacks in the United States, but that "in all probability" Osama bin Laden was still alive.

My guess is that the "terrorist group" most likely to strike with nuclear, chemical, or biological weapons would be the George W. Bush regime. Besides, I live in Kansas....what's there to be afraid of here (besides the weather, perhaps)? To make it even better, my (chem) lab is directly above the State's Bioterrorism lab....and the Chemical terrorism lab is right down the hall....

What a coincidence...

2006-01-13T10:14:00.000-08:00

Your Hair Should Be Blue

Wild, brilliant, and out of control.You're a risk taker with an eye to the future.

What's" Your Funky Inner Hair Color?

I just called Des last night and asked her to order blue hair color for me. The purple didn't work out all that great, so we're trying blue this time. It must be meant to be!

Not much time today....

2006-01-12T13:18:00.000-08:00

I don't have much time to write today (perhaps later on?), but I thought I'd post some pictures since it's been awhile....enjoy....

Notice what's on the rear dash? There's a close-up if you need it...

One of my favorite pictures from a Lavender farm outside of Topeka
Peter's baby photo.

Another beautiful Kansas Sky
Erica and Dora meet CC Deville at Woodstock 99

It's an hour commute to and from my work...I get bored....

Damn It

2006-01-09T15:22:00.000-08:00

Friday was one of the shittiest days I've had since I started my (current) job back in February. GC instruments not cooperating, maintenance and troubleshooting a bitch, and come to find out, all of the work that I did to try to alleviate the problem was fruitless. Instead of peaks and valleys, I have straight lines. Very straight. Damn it.
Right now the afore mentioned instrument is running again, this time using the second column, which so far is working nicely. Unfortunately, I'm running analysis on extracts of fish tissue (carp, flathead catfish, channel catfish, walleye), which will undoubtedly trash that column to the point of necessary replacement in the near future. If the lipids in the fish extracts don't clog the column, the concentrated sulfuric acid in the samples will eat it up. Yay.
My only consolation right now: I'm listening to Plans, the new cd by Death Cab for Cutie.

In any case, it was a pretty good weekend. On Saturday Trish and I took Des to get a psychic reading for her birthday, and then we went out for dinner and drinks. All three of us ended up being able to get readings, and I will say, it was amazing. Aluuna is her name, and she is the one who I really wanted to see at the Kansas City Psychic Fair a while back. This woman knew things about me that I've never said out loud...things that I never even wanted to admit to myself. Tears were running down my face in a matter of minutes. I won't go into all of what she said (nosey, nosey!), but she did say over and over that I have to learn how to ground my emotional energy. I need to meditate or do something that will release the feelings of grief, pain, resentment, and anger that hang around my heart like the humidity in a Kentucky summer.

The Hub and I went on a drive yesterday, to get out of the house and to go check out some real estate closer to my work. It was nice, and we actually ended up finding a house for sale that is more in our price range than the one I was originally in love with (of course). Both houses have 5 acres; neither has a basement (one is an earth-contact home and the other is set on a 4' concrete crawl space area); both have windows above the kitchen sink; both have open floor plans; both have garage/workshop buildings; both have creeks running through the land; and the Hub would have to change jobs for either one of them. Pros and cons, I tell you. While I would like a basement, both of the houses kind of compromise the idea. House #2 is newer, is off of paved road, has 3 bd/2 br, will include all appliances, has a gorgeous deck, has a small fenced-in area within the plot of land (for the doggies), has more storage space, and has more square feet of living space than our current home. House #1 is rustic, has the most amazing sun porch I've ever seen, has nice landscaping, has other out-buildings besides the garage, has a better plot of land, and isn't very close to any neighboring houses. House #2 does not have a porch (only a deck); is right next door to a small, fenced-in horse "pasture" (they have some beautiful horses, but the ground is bare and muddy, and there are dead horseflies in alarming numbers caught in between the window screens and glass....ew); and has no landscaping (not even a shrub) around the house. House #1 needs new interior paint in several areas, only has one bathroom (and because it's a berm home setting on concrete, we'd have to cut into the concrete to install the drainage/plumbing for a 2nd bathroom--can you say pain in the ass?), is missing a garage door, is off a dirt/gravel road, has higher property taxes, has less storage space, and has fewer square feet of living area than our current house.

Truth be told, it's not as if we're going to be moving any time in the near future (that I can tell, anyway). However, it's always nice to know that there are options if things work out for possible relocation. All I really would like is for the Hub to not worry so much (no matter where we live or what the situation), and for him to have a job that he doesn't mind going to every day. To say the least, the people he works with and for are assholes. There are a scant few who he can tolerate, but by and far the majority are total pricks. A few in particular are especially shitty, and unfortunately the Hub's supervisor is one of the worst. If only I can get some of his hair....

Good ole Leviticus

2006-01-04T13:51:00.000-08:00

I wish I could claim this one as my own, but I'll post it just the same.....

Dear George W. Bush,

Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and I try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind him that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination. End of debate.

I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some of the specific laws and how to best follow them.

a) When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord (Lev 1:9). The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

b) I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?

c) I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness (Lev 15:19-24). The problem is, how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.

d) Lev. 25:44 states that I may indeed possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?

e) I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself?

f) A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an Abomination (Lev 11:10), it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this?

g) Lev 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle room here?

h) Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev 19:27. How should they die?

i) I know from Lev 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

j) My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? (Lev 24:10-16) Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)

I know you have studied these things extensively, so I am confident you can help.

Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging.

Your devoted disciple and adoring fan.

Puppy Fever

2006-01-03T14:51:00.000-08:00

It's official: I have puppy fever.

Much to the Hub's chagrin, it is now full-blown. His aunt and uncle and their two girls recently got a puppy; then his cousin (my friend) Taylor got one. Granted, both of their family situations are different than ours, but still. The youngest of my kids (the main herd) is going to be 4 this year, and I just have this bleeding-hearted desire for a new baby in my life.

A friend of mine told me that my yearning for a puppy is due to a subconcious desire for a human child; because I'm now spayed, she said the realization of my sterility is coming to a head with this desire for a canine child.

Another friend mentioned that it could be that all of my kids are more independent in their older years, and that I need something to nurture.

Another person just flat-out told me I was crazy, and that the last thing I really want is a puppy (um, housebreaking in January? not fun).

We've thinned the other herd substantially since I last listed them all. We're not breeding rats anymore, and the two females remaining are going to live with a friend of mine at work. Many of the tarantulas had grown full-size, which is the optimum time to sell them as you can make top-dollar on an adult (as opposed to making $15 on a spiderling), so they found new homes via the last Kansas City Reptile Show. The Hub is thinking of selling the rainbow boa instead of purchasing a male or borrowing a male for stud; the fact that they have live birth and we're still 2 years from breeding her are main factors in that matter. The female bearded dragon, who is only a few months away from being able to be bred, is also on the market; she's beautiful, but she's a little shithead, and the expense and effort of raising a clutch of beardies far outweigh the experience, according to most breeders. All of these issues are under review, but not likely to change.

So, in reality, another dog wouldn't be thatmuch trouble, in my opinion. We have 3 dogs and 2 cats as the main herd, and the secondary herd is comprised of 6 snakes (not including Rita, the boa), 1 millipede, 1 frog, 1 turtle (that I'm holding for a friend until she can get a set-up for him), and 2 lizards. All of these, with the exception of the frog and the turtle, live in one room in the house, and take up only a small amount of time. The frog and the turtle are in a terrarium in the living room, and they're really no trouble. So, I say, why not a new baby?

I need something to need me. I want something to love me and look at me like it's mommy; something that is going to depend on me to nurture it and care for it. My other kids are like that to an extent, but not so much anymore. The dogs are very independent, and only want my attention and love when it works into their agendas. Peter the cat is always loving and allows me to spoil the crap out of him, but I somehow feel the need for more. But, as the Hub asks (quite often), "When is it ever going to be enough?"

I just know that the Hub isn't going to give in. Maybe he'll get me a Furby instead?

Every girl needs a pair....

2005-12-28T12:17:00.000-08:00

I just can't decide which ones I like best.
My birthday is a little over a month away, but I'm trying to figure out how
I can talk the Hub into getting me some killer new shit kickers.....

Any input?

Ponderosa Leather Ostrich Print 04196

Durango RD4108

BP. ´Wyatt´ Western Boot

WTF???

2005-12-27T14:16:00.000-08:00

CNN.com's breaking news:

Big sell-off erases Dow's 2005 gains

MTV host Carson Daly bangs the gavel to close trading at the New York Stock Exchange.
Stocks tumbled Tuesday, with investors bailing out of a variety of sectors in a broad-based end-of-the-year selloff. The losses erased the Dow's slim gains for the year and left the S&P 500 up 3.8 percent and the Nasdaq with a 2.4 percent gain. Investors were bothered by weakness in energy and tech stocks and worries about a slower economy.

Where's my freakin' 401K? Don't tell me this man is involved.....?....

Re: Okay (read: how my december 25th went)

2005-12-27T12:43:00.000-08:00

blech.....

blech, blech, bleeeeeesssssscccccchhhhhhhh, blech.....

sniffle, blech........(wipes mouth).......blech, blech, bleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaauuuuuuuuucccccccckkkkkkkk...........(fart)........

didn't go to the extended family thing with [the Hub] on the 25th for the above reason, besides others. I talked to my mom that morning, before the tossing-of-the cinnamon rolls that [the Hub] made for breakfast, and she for some reason felt it was appropriate to let me know (on that o-so-sacred-day) that Bobbie Tuttle died last week.....my response: "Well, do you know if she got my christmas card?"

nevermind the history behind my dislike of the holiday, but how about the fact that I was supposed to be going to see my in-laws in a matter of hours and I had to put on a fake-happy-holiday-smile so they don't think I'm the real nutjob that I am.....so let's just make it even more difficult by informing you that a (your)-life-long friend of the family (and coincidently the spouse of one of your favorite people in the world who died a few years back) bit the big one three or four days ago.....

what kind of shit is that?

how was yours? (chuckle)...

did my nephew get his frog, or am I going to have to kick some on-line shopping booty?

My Friend" <dorasfriend@hotmail.com>

12/27/2005 01:56 PM

To	<Dora0Maar@gmail.com>
cc
Subject	Okay

How was the Christmas honey!@!!!!?

Trying something....

2005-12-23T11:52:00.000-08:00

Well, I haven't posted in a while (again), and I thought now would be as good a time as ever to try to post an entry via email. I went ahead and posted the picture of my son Charlie and myself (below), but I didn't want to hang around on the blogger site too long for fear that it will be once again blocked by the IT department here at work. Apparently there were employees who were spending a bit too much time on the blogs, so for a long time they were being blocked by the internet filtering system as "inappropriate." That being said, along with the afore mentioned fact that I only have dial-up service at home, I have been absent for some time. I know it's a weak excuse, but other than my annual emotional breakdown around the winter holidays, there hasn't been much to share.

It has been crazy, or I should say, I have been crazy, since about Halloween. I'm always depressed this time of year, and I HATE christmas, so with the addition of everything else that's happened this year (losing Hunter, missing Kentucky, occasional troubles with the marriage, getting spayed), I've been losing my mind. A trip to the dr last week, and I'm another crazy pill down the hatch to keep me from hurting myself. Okay, so I'm not going to hurt myself, but I have been known to be self-destructive at times (via drugs/alcohol/razors/hunting knives/irrational behavior/impulsive shopping sprees/body piercings/etc), and since those are all no-nos now, I had to get some help before I turned to coping in an unhealthy way. As of now, I do believe I'm sufficiently medicated to make it through February.

It does strike me as strange that I have seasonal dysfunctional disorder (I think that's what it's called?), since I love the winter and the cold weather. We've had some beautiful snows, and though they're a bitch to drive in, I've gotten some awesome pictures. The kids have mixed feelings about the snow; Charlie loves it, Merry hates it, and I think Murphy is too retarded to care either way.

Since it has been so cold, and because we live in Kansas and have very little to do for entertainment, the Hub and I have been letting Charlie wear t-shirts. He LOVES wearing clothing, whether it's a t-shirt (his favorite), socks, boxer shorts, or whatever. It's hilarious. He'll wear a t-shirt for as long as you'll let him, and when you go to take it off of him, he acts all insecure--like he's embarrassed to be naked or something. So, we've been indulging him...that is, until last week.
After Charlie and his sisters went outside to do their business one evening, I put one of my t-shirts on him when they came back inside. Because it was a nicer t-shirt, and one that the Hub had gotten for me, I acknowledged the Hub's protests and allowed him to put a different shirt on Charlie. A black concert t-shirt, with the band name and logo for Drowning Man on the front, was what Charlie got instead.

All was fine with Charles and his t-shirt for a couple of days. He loved sleeping in it, and we would roll and tie it up like a midriff when he had to go outside so he wouldn't pee on it. Then, out of the blue, his shirt was gone.

Late for work one morning, I let the pups go out for the last time, and Charlie went missing (as he is prone to do when his Dad isn't home). I yelled and yelled, my voice carrying over the cold, snowy Tonganoxie hills, and finally he came running up our 1/2 mile driveway, ears flapping in the wind. I was so aggravated I just let him in the house, locked the door, and headed to work. It was only that evening that we realized he was shirt-less.

Had he gotten under a barbed wire fence and ripped it off? Had he somehow found a way to remove it himself, after wearing it for a couple of days? We have no idea, but we can't find that damn shirt anywhere. The snow has since melted, and there's no Drowning Man shirt anywhere in our yard or house.

My theory? Neighbors.

Besides the one neighbor who runs his back-hoe all of the time and has 11+ Golden Retrievers (apparently he's breeding them, which is sad, since there are thousands of them on Petfinder.com who need homes), we have folks on the other side of us who are even more weird. The Hub and I have only spoken with them twice; one time when I was looking for Charlie after he had gone on an adventure, and one time when the Hub asked them about an old truck that was parked and rotting away on the back part of their land. They don't wave back when you drive by, they talk on the phone outside (allowing every word to echo down the hill where we can hear), they have people living in an RV in their driveway, and we're not really for sure how many people are staying there, as there always seems to be someone new outside yelling at one of their dogs to stop barking.

Who's to say they didn't see Charlie running up to say hi to their dogs, sporting his t-shirt and looking sharp and think, "Damn, this dog brought me a christmas present?" Who's to say there's not a teenage kid staying there who thought he or she would look better sporting that black t-shirt than the big Chuckles? It remains a mystery.

I'm just glad it wasn't my shirt that got lost.

Alas, story time has come to an end for today. A Nitrogen tank has been delivered to my room and I must replace my nearly empty one before I can start sample analysis. More later...especially if this email thing works. I still have to share the story about Merry shitting on the deck.....

Have a wonderful Saturnalia, everyone.

Charlie and Dora

2005-12-23T11:06:00.000-08:00

Hi Again

2005-12-07T13:23:00.000-08:00

It's been crazy.

Full update coming soon......

Nonsensical Spewing

2005-10-04T07:22:00.000-07:00

When I got on the computer this morning, I wanted to make a blog entry, yet I'm still finding it difficult figuring out what to write. I had some fun over the weekend, and yesterday was a relatively good day, but nothing earth-shattering. So progresses the ho-hum chain of circumstance that is my life.

Since I've been off of work, I've been calling a lot of old friends, which has been nice. Only thing is, I miss my friend who died in August so much, and the more I speak with old buddies, the more I ache to just be able to talk to or see him one more time. I'm not sure how you deal with this type of loss when you're already so far removed from the eye of the storm. It's surreal, yet in my thoughts every day like a recurring nightmare. I can't shake it. I need to talk to him.

Ah--one exciting update. Sylvia had rat-pups again. A smaller litter, only 5 this time (compared to 9 in her first litter), and she and Sabine are taking turns feeding the whole lot of them. Sabine's remaining 9 are getting pretty big, and I'm expecting their eyes to open any minute. The way each mommy rat will have grown baby rats and pinky baby rats nursing on them simultaneously just baffles me. Talk about a family bond.

Tonganoxie and a lot of the surrounding areas are flooded again. It's substantially worse than the flood I posted pictures of before, and covering a far greater area than the previous floods of this summer. A gentleman I spoke with when I was out taking pictures of the risen waters yesterday told me that this is the worst he's seen; as he could recall, the only time the flooding was on calibre with the current waters was back in the 70s. He said that back then it flooded during hunting season, and he and a buddy took a boat out and went duck hunting in the middle of what would normally be a well-traveled intersection. The ducks were just swimming around in the flood water, eating the milo off of the top of the crops that were all but submerged.
I was really surprised at the sounds accompanying all of the water; the rushing rapids of random currents, the gurgle of the flow trying to course under the bridges, and, most unexpected, the cackles and chants of the seagulls. Seagulls in Kansas? You betcha. My friend Saint Francis and I couldn't figure out why they were here or what they were doing so far away from, well, the sea...
Lo and behold, they knew where the waters were, and they had come to greet them!
I'll get some pictures posted later on. That's all for now. The kids need to go outside.

Porno for Pyros...3rd Degree Burn

2005-09-30T11:46:00.000-07:00

I couldn't resist using that title. Sue me if I'm corny.

Anyway, the Hub and I were able to go to the fire show last night. It wasn't a full performance, as the group was asked to do it on somewhat short notice, but it was amazing. I can't wait to see them live when they do a complete show with music and choreography. If I am able to work with them more, the better pictures I think I can get. These were taken without any features or flash; if I use my tripod and burst/framing mode, I can only imagine what the results will be. The burst mode takes a few more moments for my camera to process than I was willing to give up last night, so perhaps I'll take advantage of it when they're doing a longer show. Here's more....

Rats

2005-09-30T11:30:00.000-07:00

Okay, here is Sabine and her litter. The picture of the pinkies was taken when they were only about an hour or so old; the last one is of the 9 we're raising after 8 days.

One more....

2005-09-29T11:58:00.000-07:00

Here's another photo I've been meaning to post for a while. Took this one back in June, and it's one of my favorites, for some reason. Something about overalls maybe. Enjoy.

On to Brighter Avenues

2005-09-29T11:41:00.000-07:00

I see the headlines flashing across the top of my screen here saying, "38 Bodies Recovered After Vietnam Typhoon....Senate Confirms Roberts As Chief Justice...Danish Santa Paid for Reindeer's Death (?)...At Least 60 Dead in Iraq Car Bombings...Five U.S. Soldiers Killed by Roadside Bomb...Static X guitarist guilty of minor sex..." (All of these stories and more can be found on www.earthlink.net) and I feel ridiculous about having personal issues. Nothing like a little news to make you feel like a microbeing in a macrosystem. It's difficult to think that you're at all out of whack when this world is so depraved. Yet I suppose it's all relative.

Like my title says, on to brighter avenues. It's a good day. I was working on some wedding photos I took last month (yes, I know, they're taking me forever to complete) when I heard on the radio that my tattoo artist/friend's fire performing group is doing a show tonight in Kansas City. I've been wanting to see Scary Carrie spin fire for a long time now, and she and I have talked about my photographing them sometime, so I'm wondering if I should try to catch them tonight. Granted, I am still working on the wedding photos, but I don't see why a night out would hurt.
The wedding photos. Let's get to that. The bride: Fair-skinned, natural blonde, blue eyes that are sensitive to flash (read: red-eye in every picture); the groom: medium/dark complected black guy, wore glasses during ceremony and group pictures (read: flash glare in every picture). Groom's family ran late for the wedding, grooms' father was best man, neice was flower girl (read: the wedding had to be held until groom's family arrived). Wedding indoors, in a room that was windows on 3 sides (read: hell of a time with the flash once the sun went down). Groom's family: medium/dark complected; Bride's dress: beaded satin, eggshell white; bridesmaids' dresses: yellow (read: I'm having a really shitty time adjusting the contrast and brightness of each and every photo so that you can see peoples' faces and not burn out the dresses). After cutting down the initial 600-something pictures to just over 500, I'm coming to the conclusion that I need to raise my prices for weddings. Perhaps charging 1500$ or so (photos not included, of course) will deter anyone else from booking me for their lovely matrimonial events. Aware that that's not a nice thing to say (or a very business-like attitude, for that matter), let me say that my session fee for families, kids, and other casual affairs is only $60, which includes my travelling to your location. So there.

These are a couple of my favorite portraits I've done here recently. If they appear crappy when you're viewing, it's b/c I had to reduce the images so much to upload them (dial-up, remember?).

These kinds of photos I have a good time with.
Less stress, less like work.

In any case, it's a hum-drum day and I'm really just taking a break from finishing the wedding pictures. I did, however, want to say that the final count on the ratlings was 14; 5 have been harvested more for Sabine's sake than anything--she doesn't even have 14 nipples, so I can't imagine how haggard she would be after nursing 14 babies for 4-5 weeks. The remaining 9 are up and walking around, clumsily, but don't have their eyes completely open yet. I'll post some pictures of them soon.
Till then....

An Assessment

2005-09-26T10:40:00.000-07:00

It's been a rough few days, but I said I'm going to do this come rain or shine.

Depression is different for everyone, it seems. My depression is a virus, lying dormant for random periods of time, then infecting me again if I have a stutter-step or falter. Just as a carrier of a disease, I'm prone to it overtaking me usually when my system is already weakened, and though the treatment and medication may keep it at bay for a while, it looms in the depth of my brain waiting for the moment when it can ravage me again.
In the throws of an almost manic drop, when the virus has consumed me and obliterated my faith, joy, and energy, comes the desperate need for release--release of the venom that stings my veins and blackens my heart. Sometimes screaming, often with tears, I see a woman raging through the house and destroying everything she truly loves. Consequences don't enter the picture when the raging begins--that's what is hardest for people to understand if they've never been infected. Who you're hurting by hurting yourself never comes to mind. The selfishness of the disease is not unlike it's final strike upon the one who it completely overtakes; when I learned of my friend's death in August, knowing his past I immediately assumed it was suicide, and my thoughts were, "how could he do that to us? how will he ever know how much we all loved him?" However, I already know that the sharpest thorn of taking one's own life is that no matter how much you hurt the ones who love you most, you still can't live for everyone else when you're already dying inside.

Profile Pic

2005-09-22T09:46:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to add a profile picture (again).

I'm horrible at this stuff, so wish me luck.

Now Infertile, I'm a Grandmother

2005-09-21T21:11:00.000-07:00

Doesn't make much sense, does it? Well, since I can officially no longer have human children, I've learned that it has somehow become more widely accepted that I refer to my animals as my kids. Not that I cared if it was accepted or not, because that's what they are, but upon calling them my kids in public, I don't have to explain that they're cats or dogs or lizards or whatever; in addition, if the person I'm conversing with knows I'm referring to the cat or the dog or the lizard whilst saying "my child," they just kind of nod their head and give me what appears to be a sympathetic smile. No need for sympathy here, homey. My kids are great.
In any case, the grandmother part. During my ~3 month blogging hiatus, the Hub and I welcomed some new additions to the home. The first new arrival was a crazy-little-mean-ass female baby bearded dragon. And yes, we're sure it's a female this time. Mabel actually hatched on the Hub's birthday (so will be ready to breed around February or so), and is a beautiful Sunburst Yellow morph (read: bright yellow head and legs with yellow and peach and tan markings on back and tail). But, she's a bitchlette (read: little bitch). Herbie and Floyd are so nice and gentle and easy-going, but Mabel is hell on wheels. She used to bite when we first brought her home, but since she was no larger than my thumb it wasn't a big deal. She still hisses and acts out, but with time and frequent handling has settled down a bit and no longer does bodily harm.
The other three additions came after I stopped by PetCo on my way home from work one evening to get crickets and mealworms for the lizards. Upon checking out, I noticed three aquariums on the back register that had "FREE" written on them in big black letters. Always the sucker for a bargain, I got out of line and asked one of the cashiers what the tanks were holding. Two had litters of baby rats, she told me, and the other had a litter of baby dwarf hamsters. Admittedly, a neon sign reading "Snake Food" went off in my head when she mentioned the dwarf hammies. The baby rats, already weaned, were too big for our snakes, and besides, I love rats. Had one in college that used to roam around my dorm room and eat holes in my blankets. As if she could read my mind, she followed my interest with the disclaimer, "They're not to be feeder rodents, they're only for pets," and I agreed, "Oh, yeah. Of course," and gave her the look like "what kind of cold-hearted person do you think I am? (blink, blink, blink)." I picked up one of the little hamsters, noting it's snake-palatable size, and the little fucker bit me right off the bat. I dropped it, noting that it deserved to be a reptile meal, and turned my attention to the ratlings. They were adorable, and thinking that the only way the Hub would allow me to have more children is if they would grow up and make baby rats of their own that we could feed to our other children, I decided to take home a boy and a girl. Since my friend and tattoo artist Scary Carrie had lost both of her beloved pet rats in the last 8 months, I also picked out a girl for her, which was a sister to my little girl. I went through the adoption forms with the cashier girl, and made my way home with the new kids.
The Hub was less than pleased, but I made sure he knew that I was okay with the agreement that they were to be kept as food producers, much like the mice that we had gotten and kept in the recent past. Unfortunately, the mice never had babies (I mean honestly, who can't even get mice to reproduce?), so they eventually became snake food themselves. This wasn't going to be the case with the rats, as they were too large, so I told the Hub that if it didn't work out, I'd sell them as feeders to some python breeders we knew (he knew I was lying, but went along with that part anyway). The three of them huddled in their cage were too cute for me to give up, but I knew that my girl's sister was going to be Scary Carrie's rat, so I didn't immediately get too attached to her.
Upon calling Scary Carrie a few days later, she apologetically declined the little ratling, as she was getting ready for a week-long (or more, if she liked it so much she wanted to stay) Las Vegas vacation and wouldn't have proper time to bond with the little girl before leaving. She thanked me for thinking of her, but noted that she usually got hers in pairs of girls, because they're such social animals and she works long hours (she doesn't get boys because their balls get so big she can feel them dragging on her when she's holding them). Fretting that the Hub was going to be chapped at having 3 rats instead of 2, I just didn't mention it for a while, and then was relieved when Sylvia, the sister to my Sabine, had a litter of rat kittens shortly after I returned from the hospital following my surgery.
Sabine is my favorite. I admit it. I was prepared for her to be mine from the beginning. She's a beautiful blue-silver color with a white splotch on her belly and a white tip to her tail. Her sister, Sylvia, is also very pretty, starting out charcoal gray and now turning more black, with a white belly-splotch and white gloves on her front little feet. While Sabine is calm and sweet, Sylvia is the clown, up and down and searching and investigating all of the time. Sabine will hang out quietly on your shoulder or in your pocket, while Sylvia is into everything. It is physically obvious that the girls are from different litters than Ernest (Ernie), the male. Their coats are smooth and glossy and soft, and they have pointy hamster-like faces with big round ears. Ernie, who is cream-colored with an apricot hood that covers his head and extends down his back in a V, is more of a rat's-rat; his face is more rat-like, and his coat is bushy and more coarse. He has an excellent disposition, and will just curl up and sleep when you're holding him. He's about twice the size of either of the girls, and has ruby eyes to thier black eyes. We call our little trio "the Ratleys," like they're their own little family within ours. Polygamist, maybe, but a little family just the same.
Sylvia's litter had 9 rat kittens, or rat-pups, as the Hub would say. I happened to check on the Ratleys one morning and found them brand-new; they could have only been an hour or so old. With Sylvia's and Ernie's consent, I picked up the newborns, and, judging from the distance of the underdeveloped genitals to the anus, picked out 4 who definitely appeared to be boys. I put the other 5 back in with thier parents, and Sylvia immediately bathed them and moved them to a different part of the nest.
I was a bit surprised to find that rat pinkies are about 3-4 times the size of mice pinkies, and I really wasn't sure if the smallest of our snakes were going to be able to eat them. Thinking of how mad the Hub was going to be if I didn't uphold my end of our aggreement, I went ahead and fed one of the warm squiggly pinkies to Lily, my blue-eyed corn snake (that I got in Nebraska). Startled a bit that it squealed when she struck at it, Lily didn't take long to get her mouth around the rat-pup and make a meal of it; since we normally feed our snakes frozen-thawed prey, the other 3 babies got chucked in a plastic bag and stuck in the freezer. (Yes, right on top of the ice cream and the lean pockets.)
With a bit of sadness in my heart, I told the Hub the news when he returned from work that night. Thinking that he'd be proud of me for harvesting the four, I was a little miffed when he was in fact aggravated that I hadn't harvested all nine; I told him that Scary Carrie was wanting 2 females, and that my friend Linda at work wanted one female--since I wasn't for sure about the sexes just yet, I saved back 5 for them to choose theirs from. He still was not pleased, and I finally submitted and let him pluck the remaining babies from thier mother. All in all, it's for the best. Sylvia is a great rat, but Sabine really has the more docile and friendly personality. The Hub agreed that we could save back some of Sabine's babies whenever she had a litter, so I was content. And Sabine was looking more and more pregnant every day.
The gestation period for a rat is typically 3 weeks, and they go into heat every 5 days. I've been going crazy waiting for my little silver girl to have her ratlings. For the past three days she's been uncomfortable, and she even bit me (though softly) when I stuck my finger in thier cage yesterday. When the Hub checked on them last night, he was sure that we'd have babies when we woke up this morning; however, before he left for work this morning, there was no sign of a new litter.

My dear Sabine was just waiting for me to be able to announce: WE HAVE RATLINGS!

When I came downstairs this morning to check my email, I peeped into the Ratleys' cage and didn't see anything, but I heard the tiny squeals and whines of the new babies. Sabine lifted her head out of the bedding and I was able to see some tiny pink squirmies nursing. I still haven't been able to count them all, and I don't want to reach into the cage just yet, but there are more than 4. So, folks, I'm a Grandmother. And this time, since we'll be saving some babies to go to homes that we know, I'm not just a Granny to snake food.

Found this in my garden the other day.

2005-09-18T09:28:00.000-07:00

I have a little mint and zinnia patch right off the back patio, and I had a little visitor.

After reducing the image and only 5 minutes or so, I was successful in uploading this picture. I guess dial-up can work, if you're patient.

More later........

So It's Been a While....

2005-09-18T08:47:00.000-07:00

Forgive me if I don't add links. In Tonganoxie, Kansas, dial-up is the only option, so it's pretty difficult requesting any more than the most basic computer procedures.
Blogging was restricted from my work computer system a few months back (while I was on my self-inflicted blogging hiatus), but since I'm home-bound on recovery from being spayed, it doesn't matter anyway.

Those notes aside, I said before I'd relay the gory details of my surgery. Considering the hysterectomy is the #1 surgical procedure done on women in the United States, it's nothing earth-shattering, but here are some highlights:

*I was given an epidural in addition to general anethstesia. Not only was the numbness in my legs disconcerting, but the fentanyl made me itch. Badly. When I finally had had enough, the epidural was removed and was to be replaced with a PCA pump (dilaudid). The medicine for the pump didn't come up from the pharmacy for more than 2 hours after the epidural had been removed, and since it was only one day post-surgery, I was not in a good condition to do without pain medicine for that period of time. What can I say? I may be a big wuss, but you try having your abdominal muscles cut open and your insides fished out.
*Flowers. Tons and tons of flowers. Flowers from my Hub, my friend Trish, my in-laws, my Dad, my Great-Grandma (via my Dad), my close friend Abbey from highschool, my Mom's good friends in Kentucky, my friends from my photography business, and from my sister (once I got home). They have been so wonderful--the smell of lilies and roses and the bright faces of sunflowers and daisies all around.
*Catheters suck. I don't think I need to expand on this one.
*Abdominal muscles cut open, lifted apart, and the body cavity inflated with gas underneath. Cut-cut, snip-snip, throw away the bad parts. It hurts. You're in some serious pain for a few days, and then the soreness won't go away. All of these things I understood, but was not really prepared for due to other distracting stressors. One HUGE surprise? The pain associated with peeing, as my bladder is repositioning itself. And, as I mentioned before, the excruciating pain (in my stomach and my lower bowel, not my asshole itself) that accompanies taking a shit. Not many people like to talk about poop, but I don't mind. We all do it. I just can't do it very well anymore. Can't push. Nothing wants to come completely out. It's a sadistic circle--you can't get it all out, so your destined to be back on the pot two hours later, and again two hours after that.

Okay, okay, I hear you groaning. The moral of this story? Be careful what you wish for. For years, I've been saying, "I don't want to have kids...I wish they'd just take all of my junk out so I don't have to explain myself anymore..." Honestly, I don't think I would have ever been able to get pregnant. And truly, I think I've always known that the hysterectomy was inevitable (and have thus been mentally talking myself into it). Let's just say things with my womanly organs have never been quite right. Over the past 5 years I'd grown tired of the poking, the biopsies, and the procedures. Sick of the cramps, the bleeding (or not bleeding), and the doctor's visits. All of that in mind though, I must admit that I never considered the fact that because my uterus had never been used, they'd have to go through my abdominal wall to get to it--it was too high to do the procedure vaginally, and the laparoscopic procedure was also out. So here I sit. Condemned to my house for 4-6 weeks. I was technically able to drive again this past Thursday, but I have no where to go (and no money to spend). Can you say Cabin Fever? Can you say, goddam Dora your poor husband? Thank the gods for the freakin satellite dish. And pardon my verbage. I'm a bit irritable.

An Explanation

2005-09-15T12:49:00.000-07:00

I am a bad blogger.
Yes, I am aware of the fact that it has been a really, really long time since I last posted. As most of my friends know and/or have figured out, when it starts raining poop, I usually try to hole up somewhere by myself until the skies clear. It's likely not the best option, since I'm lucky enough to have several wonderful friends who would like to help me through the rough times, but it's just the way that I've always coped. So, much as I withdraw from my friends, I have withdrawn from my blog and other (written) journals, for fear that I might one day go back and revisit the times and experiences that cause me pain. I am conscious of the fact that one of the benefits of writing, journaling, blogging, (communicating with friends even), is just that--going back and looking at both good times and bad and learning from either, so I can't explain why I do what I do. All I can do is explain what I do. And I'm doing that now.
Three months or so ago is when a lot of my mess began. Problems with the husband, mainly, and within a month or so problems elsewhere. Thankfully by the time things got really crazy the hub and I had begun to rebuild (yes, things were momentarily that bad, as I tend to act radically according to emotional situations), so I had his support when I really needed it. The first week of August I learned that my request for shared medical leave, the only medical leave plan that would allow me to take the necessary time off for recovery following my hysterectomy, had been denied. The very next day, I received a phone call informing me that one of my closest friends from back home in Kentucky had died--assumed initially to have been a suicide. As the weeks followed, I couldn't take off work to attend his funeral services, and I was losing all that was left of my sanity, trying to cope with the loss of such a wonderful person, preparing my appeal for the medical leave, getting my regular work load done, and then taking care of things at home. Way too much going on.
Things started looking a little less bleak when I learned that the medical examiner had ruled my friend's death a drowning instead of a suicide or drug overdose. At least I found some peace in that, so I quit asking questions about the details and have decided that I'm going to believe what I read in the ME's report instead of assumptions and inside stories. Ignorance is more comfortable still, and I'm able to sit here with my cat on my lap and write this without tears, so I'll just stick to the story I read in the news. However, just as I thought things were going to start turning around, the Hub and I learned that his mother was going to have to have surgery to remove a tumor on her thyroid. Her surgery was scheduled for August 30th, two days before mine, and although the initial biopsies lended that the tumor was benign, the doctors/pathologists wouldn't know anything until the whole thing could be removed and analyzed. So, in effect, her throat would be sliced open and the doctors would have to cut out both her thyroid gland and the tumor that was attached to it, and hope they didn't sever any nerves or anything else in the process. Not a pleasant thought.
It was only a few days later when we found out that my appeal for the medical leave was denied yet again. I was left wondering how the Husband and I were going to be able to afford for me to be off of work without pay for 6-weeks (especially after the 200$ copay and everything else), but thankfully, throughout all of this mess, my supervisor and my two closest friends at work were vigilantly by my side. My supervisor was irate about the injustice of the "Shared Leave Committee"(the group of individuals responsible for granting or denying the leave), as they were known for giving the shared medical leave to women having c-sections, yet they were refusing it to me, stating that my surgery was what they deemed "preventive care." He and I talked to the Director of the Laboratories, who then appealed our (my) case to the Secretary of the department.
Two days before my scheduled surgery we finally had some good news. On one front, my mother-in-law's surgery had come through without complication, and the attending pathologist didn't seem to see anything that worried him. More tests would have to be run, but all of the doctors were optimistic. And, yes, finally, the Secretary approved my medical leave, so I was almost covered. I say "almost" because although I had been approved for the medical leave, it was only the beginning--once I had permission to receive shared hours, fellow State employees then would have to donate hours to me in order for me to be able to have the time off with pay. All in all, the shared leave system is a great program, beyond the fact that the Board in charge of awarding it is completely arbitrary and has no idea what preventive medicine can do. When you take into consideration that the workers who would actually have enough hours to give to me make a lot more money than I do, it actually saves the state money by paying me my hourly rate instead of the 30+ year employees their hourly rate; also, I work for the Department of Health and Environment--everything we do is about preventative care. Why do we test the public water systems? So that people are not ingesting carcinogens. Why do we care if people are ingesting carcinogens? Because we don't want them to get cancer. Why is Dora having this surgery? So that I don't get cancer. Do you see any parallel here?
I can talk more about the actual surgery and hospital experience later, and you know I will, but I'll skip to a day about 5 days following my surgery. Phone call #1: my mother-in-law. The test results were back, and the tumor was benign. Besides obvious recovery from such a stressful surgery, she was going to be okay. Phone call #2: my dear friend "Saint Francis" from work. It had been confirmed that people had donated me so many hours that I was going to be able to be off of work for the entire 6-weeks post-operative recovery period. With tears in my eyes (from joy and gratitude), I told my Hub and my mother, who was out here from Kentucky helping us, and a wave of shock and relief rushed over us all.
The moral to this story: I'm a stubborn, difficult, emotional human being. In a matter of three months, my life has changed dramatically (not only because I was spayed, but mainly because of how much I've learned). I look back on all of my other blog entries, and most of them are superficial, day-to-day ramblings; I promise to try to dig deeper, regardless of what well of tears I may strike along the way. It was while I was in the hospital that the levies broke in New Orleans. If that doesn't put you in check, I'm not sure you're worth checking. I try to be light-hearted and fun, and that's usually all I allow people to see of me. I'm not saying that's going to stop, but I'm going to do my best to be real with the people who actually read this to keep in touch with me. If you want to know why I haven't called in a while, you can probably find it here (from now on). I love you guys, and I thank you for emailing me and writing me and calling me, checking up on my progress and seeing how I'm doing. All is on the upswing now (I hope), though my gut hurts and I can't take a crap (no freaking abdominal muscles!). How's that for real? (=

On Second Thought...

2005-06-10T13:57:00.000-07:00

Funnel Cloud

Maybe I was wrong about the Oz thing.

This Ain't Oz

2005-06-06T16:53:00.000-07:00

Flood

Okay--I'm not going to go into any cliche sayings like "when it rains, it pours," but this shit is ridiculous. We don't have a rain-meter or anything at our house (I don't know what a rain-meter is officially called, but whatever), but as you can tell from the picture, sometimes an exact measurement just doesn't matter.
Trying to drive to work this morning after a not-so-lovely weekend of storms, I was a bit shocked to learn that I was going to have to take a detour. I realized we had had quite a bit of precipitation, but nothing to the extent that would swallow my Honda.
The area pictured is at the end of our road, which joins onto one of the main roads through the back part of the little town in which we live. When they label something "flood plain" in Kansas, you sure as hell better pay attention.
After I tried a couple of different routes to get out to the main road, I found success. And, though I was already a little late for work, I couldn't resist snapping a couple of pictures.
I suggested to the Hub that he and I go snorkeling after work, but no dice. Something about that 25-pound alligator snapping turtle that we found cruising across the yard a week or so ago helped change my mind--not to mention the fact that I now test water samples for a living, and I unfortunately know the kinds of things (besides snapping turtles) that we would inevitably encounter.
Oh, well. {sigh}

2005-06-06T16:52:00.000-07:00

Water line

2 of my Boys

2005-06-02T12:24:00.000-07:00

Peter and Herbie

I'm stressed at work, apparently for no reason. I don't like having an in-box with things in it, and regardless of how far I move it out of sight, I feel the pressure like a fetter around my throat. After talking to my supervisor, who laughed at me, I realize I'm still getting used to the way things work around here. This time of year, he told me, it's not bad to have two sets of data waiting to be tested. If you're more than 6 weeks behind, then they start worrying.
So the pressure and stress is self-inflicted. That doesn't make things better, really, it just makes me feel like I'm being an idiot for doing this to myself. Time to take a pill....

Anyway, I decided to post this picture because it always makes me smile--two of my favorite boys, checking each other out. Peter is surprisingly good with all of the other creatures. He's more curious than anything, and if given the chance to get up-close to investigate, he stays on his tippy-toes in apprehension of any sudden move. He's relatively comfortable with Herbie now, because they've been out so much together, but he will still keep his distance if Herbie decides to take off across the floor.
In any case, just a tidbit of my everyday life. My family makes me feel better. (:

An Update

2005-06-01T13:31:00.000-07:00

(from this post)

Due to unforeseen complications, my surgery has been rescheduled for September 1st, 2005.

The unforeseen complications have to do with work, and work policy, and blah, blah, blah.
To give a background, there is a program at my work that allows people to donate or share their annual and/or sick leave. This shared time goes to someone who is needing to be out of work for a serious problem and won't have enough leave time to cover the time needed off. I talked to someone in the Personnel department here at work today, and he said that the hysterectomy (and the reasons I need one) would be sufficient to approve me for shared leave. The only problem:
I've not been in my current job for 6 months or more.
That little snipit of information had never before been mentioned, and now it seems that I have yet another goddam thing to be stressed out about. If I have to be off of work for 6 weeks to recover from the surgery, off of work 6 weeks without pay, there's no way it could work out. I wouldn't even be eligible for short-term disability because I've not worked here a year.
GODDAMMIT!! GODDAMMIT!! GODDAMMIT!!
Okay, now that that's out of my system, I'll continue. When I got back up to my lab from talking with the Personnel guy, I got on the horn to my Cooterologist's office. I was able to get through to the lady who does scheduling for my doctor, and she understood the predicament. She pulled my file and said that we'd be able to move it back, but not by a long time.
My first day of work here was February 28; that means 6 months would be over on August 28.
"Anything after the 28th of August would be best, if we could make it that late," I told her.
She put me on hold while spoke to my doctor. After a few minutes went by, she said, "We can get you in on September 1st, which is the first Thursday after the 28th of August." (My doctor only does surgeries on Thursdays unless it's a baby being delivered by cesarean.) "The doctor didn't want to go much past that, so is that going to be okay?" she asked.
"Yes, I think that will work," I replied, hoping that I wasn't jumping off the ship before I knew the depth of the water.
So, I went back down to talk to the fellow in Personnel, and he told me that September 1st would be fine. He said that I would be turning in the paperwork before my 6 months had technically passed, but that he would make sure everyone knew that I would have my time in by the date I needed off. He also let me know that if all of my hours were covered by shared time, there would be no repercussions for missing that amount of time because it would have all been paid.
That eases my mind a little. But, to be honest, it's now 3 entire months that I have to be stressing and freaking out. I'm trying not to, and I don't want to think about anything bad happening, financially or medically. As a matter of fact, four separate women I've talked to have said that I'm going to be so glad if I go through with it. Two of them said that it's the best thing that's ever happened to them (medically speaking, I assume).
Oh, well for that. I guess only time will tell now, but I still feel like I'm going FUCKING CRAZY!!

Roots Radical

2005-06-01T07:06:00.000-07:00

It's funny sometimes what will take you back to your roots. My particular seed sprouted in North Carolina, but my mother was born and raised in western Kentucky, and Kentucky is where I planted most of my roots. Living there for the most impressionable years in my life (from 9th grade to college graduation), it is in Kentucky where I came into my own, and where I consider myself to be "from."
Anyway, my mom comes from a long line of some back-ass-woods country people, too nice to for me to call redneck, but very much the kind who would sport "Aint Skeered" stickers on their old pick-up trucks and give their kids nicknames like "Peanut," "Tojo," "Mary Maggot," and "Fuzzynuts." Yes, that's my family. They're good people, for the most part (of course there the spoons in every family who like to keep the shit stirred), and now that I live almost 600 miles away I can truly enjoy the family get-togethers that I'm able to attend. I cherish the memories of catching lightning bugs with cousins and drinking bottles of Dr. Pepper, which my Grandpa told me was made from prunes, on the front porch swing of his and my Grandma's house. As we've grown up, though, several of the cousins I was closest to have gone different ways than I, and my Grandparents have been dead for nearly a decade.
Having missed my mom's call on Monday, I decided to phone her on my way home from work (yes, I talk while I drive--for fuck's sake, it's an hour commute!). She had gone to her hometown over the weekend to put flowers on her folks' graves for Memorial Day and to see some of her siblings. It's always fun to hear what the relatives are up to nowadays, so I listened intently as she relayed all of the current family gossip. So-and-so is pregnant, so-and-so has three kids now, cousin-blah-blah is working at the Purdue Chicken plant, so-and-so's wife is antisocial, cousin-whatever's kids are completely out of control, etc.
She never mentioned if my sister (older by 17-months) and her husband and their son had gone with her, but considering my mother won't go 15 minutes without talking about my nephew, I figure the family got enough of him at least through conversation. She did say at some point in the day nearly every person had asked her about me giving her some grandkids, which made me laugh. I don't want human children (nor does the Hub), and apparently my mom just told those who asked that my Hub and I aren't planning on having any.
One of my crazy cousins in particular wanted to press the issue, though. She and I were the terrible twosome back in the day, but since she dropped out of school and popped out a couple of kids and took up in a single-wide with some boyfriend and got fired from the Purdue Chicken plant, etc, we really haven't been much in contact (um, we really don't have much in common now, you know?).
But like I was saying, she wouldn't take my mother's "drop the subject" hints.
Let me interject by saying that my mother is not happy about my upcoming hysterectomy. Honestly, she's handling it worse than I am, possibly because I'm in denial and ignorant (for the most part) about what to expect with the surgery. She's worried, as any mom would be, and though she knows that the Hub and I don't want human kids, I think that she's a bit disappointed. I'm not sure why, considering I was her problem child (to say the least), but whatever. She's also concerned about how I'm going to handle the surgery itself--she's had 3 cesarean sections, so she knows almost exactly what's going to be taking place (they're having to do an abdominal hysterectomy on me b/c I haven't had children or been pregnant and thus my uterus is still up high in my body).
That being said, let me also explain that if you ever meet my mother and begin to embark on an issue that she prefers to be left alone, take her hints and change the subject. She will give indications that the conversation is not to her liking--she's got a Southern woman's grace about things and will tend to behave in such a manner right up till the point where she introduces the passive-aggressive bitch that will sit your ass on the sharp side of an up-ended barstool before you feel the breeze go by. I know, because I've seen her do it (and been the recipient more times than I'd like to go into).
Okay, so mood set. She's bristled by my cousin's insistence in talking about why I'm not going to have any kids.
My cousin asked her again, "So when's Dora gonna have you some grandbabies?"
"Well, it's not in her plan," my mom answered (see, Southern grace).
"You mean, she ain't gonna have no younguns? I cain't believe thayut."
I can only imagine my mother's facial expression when she countered, "No. She's not going to have any children. Dora has cervical cancer and will be having a hysterectomy in July."
From what my mom told me, silence fell upon the whole lot of them.
"Dora," my mother laughed over the phone, "You could've knocked 'em over with a feather!"
I was roaring to the point that I noticed I was, ahem, exceeding the speed limit.
"Mom, you're so mean. You know cousin retard doesn't know what a hysterectomy is," I said, trying to breathe.
"Oh, hush," she told me, "It just serves them right for getting into your business."
(Um, okay, like we had not just been gossiping about all of them for the last 20 minutes or more?)
Anyway, it was probably a whole lot funnier with my mom's country drawl and knowing how uppity she can be sometimes. She did make sure to let me know that she did tell them that the Hub and I do have children, just of the creature-sort.
"And I told them how much money you spent on having your lizard's penis fixed," she added.

Oh, for fuck's sake. I wonder what they're saying about me now? The crazy cousin who has to have her lizard's penis lopped off? Sheesh.

{To set the record straight, I don't have cervical cancer right now--leave it to my mother to call in the drama. In 2003, I had to have a procedure done to remove cancer cells and high-grade precancerous cells from my cervix, and after only 3 pap-smears, the abnormality has recurred. This time my doctor said that it's mid-grade precancerous dysplasia, but that abnormal cells were also found in the biopsies that he took from the inner part of my cervix. So, it's invasive this time. Hence, the hysterectomy. Instead of going through more procedures and more pap-smears every 3 or 6 months and more biopsies and poking and prodding and putting my feet in those goddam stirrups, the hysterectomy is really the best option (for both short and long term). I'm still going to have my ovaries, which don't work very much but will hopefully keep me from going through early menopause. And I guess I will have to put my feet in those goddam stirrups still, because they'll have take a small swab of the tissue of my upper vaginal wall for my well-woman exams every year to make sure that the cells around the previously affected area are still okay. But in any case, to my friends who may read this, don't freak out--everything's going to be fine (especially if I can convince myself of that!).}

Bullfrogs Just Happen

2005-05-30T15:19:00.000-07:00

My Bullfrog Friend
Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, the weekend of my moving-to-Kansas anniversary (#5 this year), and the Hub and I are taking it easy. We were going to go to the Top-Fuel drag races this year, but the cost of the tickets outweighed my overall interest, so we decided to stay home and enjoy the beautiful weather. Fully sunscreened and bug-sprayed, I headed outside where the Hub was already firing up his Allis-Chalmers D-14 tractor and getting ready to do some mowing. I had some plants to put in my flower garden, as well as some horticultural rearranging to do, and it was warm enough to put one of the lizards in the play pen to get some sun, so I settled into that. Floyd got to hang out with me on that particular day, so he nestled down in the grass and soaked up the sunshine while I proceeded to transplant mint into another garden and replace it with some of the new plants (lavender, moonflower, hibiscus, and for shits and giggles, one tomato plant). After a little while the Hub went inside to find that his mother (Belle) had phoned and invited us to go fishing that night. She and my father-in-law (Jack) were going down south to Louisburg to fish with her brother Joe at a secluded lake where they had had lots of previous success in supplying what we're hoping will become the annual family fish-fry. In any case, my Hub has been wanting to go fishing practically all year, and I'm always up for a spontaneous change in plans, so we accepted the invite and rushed to get ready to go.
After a dinner at Hillsdale Bank Barbeque (which is one of my top 5 favorite BBQ joints around KC) we made it to the lake to meet Joe, who had with him his wife Shirley, their youngest son Alex, and two of Alex's friends. Since last summer, the lake had fallen victim to some moss around the banks, so the best place to cast was off of the dock or the bridge across the dam. Eventually we all ended up on the dam bridge, where you could face the lake on one side and the approximately 25-30 foot drop to the concrete slope of the dam itself on the other side.
My father-in-law Jack and my Hub were reeling in fish after fish, mostly Blue Gill and Crappie (I love that). Once dusk began to fall upon us, things slowed a bit, and our attention was averted to a wrack of commotion from Alex and his buddies.
The three boys ran across the bridge, yelling and laughing, and holding something at the end of Alex's fishing pole. It was a giant bullfrog, alive and squirming, hooked through the mouth.
Now, I know that boys will be boys (or men will be men, for that matter), but I was pissed. Perhaps a double standard since we were out there fishing, but my heart was ripped with the cruelty of the boys and the pathetic and vulnerable state of the frog. Joe and the Hub and I immediately set to freeing the big guy. The boys were cool about us rescuing it--I think they were more into showing it off than torturing it--and they went on about their way, muddy and aloof. The frog struggled in the beginning, but as I supported its legs and my Hub gingerly removed the hook, he calmed down and settled into my hands.
I was instantly in love. Not only was he slimy and green, but we had rescued it (which is important, since I'm the constant nurturer that I am). As Jack and Joe chuckled about the possibility of having frog legs at the fish fry, I was pleading with the Hub to let me take it home. Okay, so it was half-hearted pleading. I knew his place was there at the lake, but to think that he could be in the terrarium in our living room and I would get to see him and hear him sing every day was like a fairy tale. Granted, he could stretch out and touch both sides of that little terrarium. It's not like I would have taken him home if the Hub had said yes. Okay, I would have considered it.
Anyway, I held the frog and we got some pictures, and he was as docile as he could be as I cooed him and cleaned his mouth and feet of moss and debris. Belle and Shirley were getting a kick out of him, too, and I opened my hands slightly so they could see him and the Hub could pet him. He just laid in my hands peacefully--until, of course, the Hub touched him.
It was at that precise moment that he lunged from my loosened grip--off of the wrong side of the bridge.
I screamed and immediately burst into tears, not even hearing the thud as he landed upside down on the concrete below. The Hub grabbed me and hugged me, holding me away from the scene of the crime so I couldn't see the frogs twisted body down below. Feeling like I had been punched in the stomach, the tears flowed down my face, expecting the worst. I looked over the side of the bridge and saw him, stretched out and distorted like a child's rubber toy.

Nature has a funny way of keeping you in check.

The guys were talking about what a fall the frog had taken and naturally, the noise he had made when he hit the concrete, but my father-in-law interjected, "I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised if he bounced back. We used to shoot those things with 22s when we were kids, and they'd still be hopping all over the place. They're tough."
As Jack was giving him an indirect pep-talk, my mother-in-law Belle took to trying to revive him by tapping him with her lure. When she was finally able to brush it against his belly, he woke up and flipped over to right himself, dazed and likely concussed, but alive. I nearly passed out in a wave of relief and emotion. He was alive. Not altogether well, but alive.
We were all amazed, except maybe Jack, who just smiled to himself. He's funny like that. He can be as ornery as any little boy out there, but he has a kind heart deep down that he thankfully passed on to his son (though my Hub's is not as easy to get to).
The frog finally took a couple of leaps down the side of the dam in the direction of the creek below, and I knew he'd be okay. We all adjourned to Joe and Shirley's house for a campfire (and marshmallows!) shortly thereafter, leaving my frog to complete his recovery in private.

At the end of the night, when it was long past everyone's bedtime and the Hub and I were driving back to the homestead, we got to talking about the pond that the Hub wants to dig in our back yard. We have 10 acres, and a portion of that (our current camping area) is on 100-year flood plain, so he's thinking that a 2-or-3 acre pond would be perfect right there. We've talked about it on numerous occasions, and if we decide to stay in our house, the Hub would like to have it dug at least by his 30th birthday.
We threw ideas back and forth about the different kinds of fish and other creatures we'd have in our pond, when the Hub said, "You know, one of my uncles told me that there's not a pond out there that doesn't have bluegill in it. When the birds and other creatures travel from one pond to the next, they bring along all kinds of things--from fish eggs to plant seeds."
"Bullfrog eggs?" I asked.
"Yeah. Bullfrogs too. You don't stock a pond with bullfrogs like you would catfish. Bullfrogs just happen. Their eggs get transferred from pond to pond like anything else."
"Bullfrogs just happen," I repeated, pleased.
He smiled at me, "Yep, they just happen."

Computers Aren't My Thing

2005-05-30T14:52:00.000-07:00

Dora Maar
I'm finally beginning to figure out this Hello photo thing. I still haven't been able to put this damn picture on my profile here, but I figure this is good enough for now.

D-Day: July 21, 2005

2005-05-26T12:09:00.000-07:00

My Cooterologist's office called today to schedule my hysterectomy.

I Knew Her Back When....

2005-05-25T18:50:00.000-07:00

Successful at whatever she loves (and has the energy to persue), I can honestly use the phrase, "I knew her back when," with my old friend Kaelan. Another buddy I met at nerd camp before senior year of highschool and a friend all through college, she's another person I love dearly and never want to lose touch with. Read any of her adventures, and you're bound to understand why.
Since she's a lawyer in Washington, D.C., now and I'm doing the domestic-meets-mad-scientist thing here in Kansas, we haven't been able to fully catch up in a while, and I miss her tons. However, I will glow in fame vicariously through her for a moment, as I introduce some of the greatest pieces of Horse-Racing literature since Charles Bukowski:
{Caution: Please make sure you've gone to the bathroom before reading either of these articles. Otherwise you might piss yourself with laughter.}

Infield or Clubhouse: A Kentuckian's Advice on Throwing a Derby Bash

You Shoulda Been There: Heart of Preakness

Kaelan, you make us Kentucky girls proud! And goddammit, when's the book out?

What a Beautiful Morning

2005-05-24T07:13:00.001-07:00

Kansas sunrise

I love Kansas.
I know it may sound strange, especially to those who knew me prior to moving here, but it's the truth. Kansas feels more like home than anywhere else I've lived, and though I never thought I'd even visit this state, I love it.
This morning I woke up in time to see a breath-taking sunrise, which is pretty much par for the course around here. A beautiful sunrise and a gorgeous sunset--you can almost bet on it in Kansas. I've always appreciated the natural beauty of the sky and have been interested in meteorology, and Kansas is a haven for the weather-friendly.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not a big fan of how hot it can get here in the summer time, but there's something about that fire of a sunset that follows those July days that makes up for the trouble. Winter skies are even better, when the trees are naked and the rays of color stream through the bare branches. Every open, snow-covered field reflects the hues of pink and indigo and seems to take on the waves of clouds, drifting and floating and blurring the horizon.
This morning was cool but humid, the blanket of clouds insulating the moisture of the early dew. Once the sun was up and it was (past) time for me to be leaving for work, the colorful beams of sunlight had submitted to the clouds. Every shade of gray mixed with hints of violet and blue laid in ripples and rivers running through the atmosphere. It was one of the most spectacular cloud formations I've ever been privilege to see--like heavy meringue, or the ocean's tides, pooling in shallow areas and flooding over with circles and waves of current. I was mesmerized and doing all I could to keep the car on the road.
Dammit! Where's my camera when I need it?
There aren't many things to look forward to when you've got an hour-long commute to work, but the clouds made my day. At least until that bitch cut me off at the toll-plaza when it started to rain.
Goddammit, I hate people sometimes. They ruin everything.

So let me clarify: I love Kansas. I don't love most Kansans, I don't like Kansas politics, I really can't stand Kansas morals/values/religion, and I'm embarrassed by some of the backward shit that goes on (and people joke about the South?). I do love the hills, the prairies, the streams and rivers, and the sky. I love my family here, and I like my job.

So, if you have a problem with my living like a hermit crab, doing my best to ignore Kansan society and all of its rancor (okay, I still vote), go fuck yourself. If you understand and agree, I have a guest room anytime you want to come visit.

I Got Mail!

2005-05-20T17:02:00.000-07:00

I love mail. Admittedly, I have ordered things from catalogs, eBay, and countless other internet sites, mainly just to get that special feeling of having a present show up at your door. Pathetic, I know, but true.
Last night I got home to see that I had received a package--yay! I hadn't ordered anything (the Hub's got the credit card in check since I had to put my ticket to SF on it), so even better. The return address was in Richmond, Kentucky, where I went to college and some of my best old friends still live.
It was from Jean, my old roommate and still close girlfriend. One of the most unique people I've ever met, I consider myself lucky to have Jean as a friend. She was able to come and visit me back the first week of March (on her college spring break), and I last visited her in Kentucky last November around Thanksgiving.
The yellow envelope was large and flat, giving no hint to what was inside, so I opened it with gusto to reveal a white padded envelope inside. The Hub was watching me in amusement, as I reached inside the white envelope like a little girl on a pagan holiday.
When I visited Jean last November, she and I tried to stop by the Student Store at EKU to browse for some alumni stuff. Unfortunately it was closed, but lo and behold, months and months later, Jean had remembered what I was looking for.
Inside the white envelope was an Eastern Kentucky University Alumni license plate and an EKU Alum sticker for my car. I squealed with excitement and did a clappy-clap (very fast clapping of hands), followed by the happy dance (called the retard dance by the Hub). Not only was I thought of by someone special, but she also remembered what I had wanted after all this time!
Thank you, Jean! I love and miss you!

By the way, the Hub is also grateful for the gifts. To this point, the license plate on the front of my Honda says "WICKED WITCH" and has the Wicked Witch of the West from the Wizard of Oz on it. Because of this, the Hub is always a little self-conscience of driving my car if I'm not with him. Problem eliminated!

Fiona is Floyd

2005-05-14T19:23:00.001-07:00

Floyd's baby pic

{For those who are just starting: Fiona is my smaller, 6-month-old, female bearded dragon. Herbie is my 9-month-old fatass male beardie. See Herbie the Horny.}
All was good with the kids when I returned home from my weekend jaunt to San Francisco, so the Hub didn't let me down in tending the flock (he never does let me down in this respect--he's a great Dad--but I had to get that out of the way).
Monday night, I noticed a piece of tomato stuck to Fiona's butt, and since she still had some tomato in with the salad in her food dish from the morning, I didn't think anything about it. She ate some more greens from my hand, and then about 10 vitamin-dusted crickets, which is pretty normal. After feeding Herbie and turning all of their lights off, that was it for the night.
Tuesday morning I looked in on everyone, turned on the basking lights, dropped some fresh salad in for both Fiona and Herbie, and consequently noticed that the tomato was still stuck to Fi's rear-end. Once I picked her up to remove it, though, I realized I was horribly, horribly wrong.
That was no tomato.
Instead of something stuck to her ass, it was something protruding from her ass--something that looked very much like a giant hemmorhoid. I had left my best Bearded Dragon manual at work (lunch-time reading), so I decided not to panic just yet. I misted her with some water and put her back into her tank, worried but determined to figure out the exact problem.
At work first thing I looked up her ailment in the book. Then I was really worried. From the description and the picture, Fiona likely had a rectal prolapse, which is basically like a hemorrhoid, but can certainly be life-threatening if not treated. Knowing my regular vet (in good ole Tonganoxie) doesn't treat reptiles, I turned to the yellow pages to look for an exotic-animal vet in Topeka, the city in which I work. I knew of one in Lawrence, the town in-between home and work, but I figured if I could find one close to work I'd be able to take her in the next day on my way in.
After a couple of phone calls, I found one who made an appointment for Fiona that Friday. The man I talked to on the phone told me that in the meantime, I should clean the affected area, pour Karo Syrup onto the prolapse to reduce the swelling, and then use a lubricated Q-tip to try to re-insert the bulging tissue back into her body. All of this but the Karo Syrup sounded reasonable, so I figured I'd give it a try that night when I got home. (I mean really, Karo Syrup?)
In any case, Fiona didn't seem out of sorts at all that night, so I placed her in a warm bath to clean the bulge. After it was cleaned, it started to bleed slightly and I could see the degree of inflamation, which broke my heart all over again. I drained the water and refilled the tub with about a half-inch of cold water, hoping to reduce the swelling. Splashing around and trying to escape, she seemed to be more bothered by the temperature of the water than she was by her affliction.
Once she was dry, I took her into the other bathroom and proceded to lubricate her butt, the bulge, and a clean Q-tip with Bacitracin Ointment. On an even closer inspection, I started to become a bit suspicious. The bulge was definitely to the left side of her cloaca (opening/vent), and seemed to be rooting from beneath the opening. Because Fiona doesn't have a tail, there really didn't appear to be any room in her little body for the bulge to fit back in, since it was needing to go below the cloaca. In tears, I managed to poke the prolapse back into her body, but only for a moment. It popped right back out with her squirming and trying to get out of my hands, and the bulge was starting to bleed a little more.
Disheartened, I placed her back into her tank. Laying in bed, my head was racing. Why would a rectal prolapse appear to be coming from the side of her vent? It was obvious that there was no room beneath her cloaca for the tissue to be housed, but a rectal prolapse would generally be re-inserted to the area above the cloaca. I know that male bearded dragons have two hemipenes, which are held inside their bodies in-between the cloaca and the base of the tail, but for Fiona this shouldn't be an issue. She was young when I got her, but she was sold to me as a girl. Could it be?
Following another restless night, I was back at work on Wednesday morning when my phone rang. It was the vet clinic where Fiona had her appointment on Friday, calling to let me know that I needed to take Fiona in immediately for medical attention. The woman said she had talked to the vet about the situation, and that he had said that Fi couldn't wait until Friday; unfortunately, though, they weren't going to be able to get me in that same day. I thanked her for her update and hung up.
No choice but to call the clinic in Lawrence, Gentle Care Animal Hospital. They agreed that it was an emergency situation, and I felt my blood pressure increase. How could I have been so stupid? Their main Herp-Vet wasn't going to be in until that afternoon, but they told me to bring Fiona in as soon as I possibly could to go ahead and get her looked at. They could prep her for surgery while they were waiting for the vet to arrive. I let my coworkers know what was going on and I headed on home to pick up the baby (that's been the fastest commute to date). She seemed okay, but a little stressed out. We made it to the animal hospital in good time as well, and they were able to go ahead and take a look at her.
The vet we saw said that she looked dehydrated, and that they were definitely going to have to do surgery to correct the problem. She printed out an estimate of the likely cost of the procedures that they were probably going to have to do, and I called the Hub in tears. Surprisingly enough, though the sum of money required was going to be a big one, he was okay with it all.
He told me, "I know how much the kids mean to you, and I think we should do what it takes to make sure they're healthy. I also know that if I had to get my motorcycle fixed, you wouldn't have a problem with my spending that much money." I was shocked that he was taking it so well, but he made sure to add, "But this is it. No more animals!" We exchanged I love yous and I let him go.
Back out in the lobby I told the Vet that he had agreed with me that they should do whatever it was going to take. I kissed Fi goodbye before I left, and they headed back to set up a tank for her.
Once I had returned to work, I was still anxious but somewhat relieved. I managed to get some things done for the next few hours, and then my phone rang again. My stomach jumped up in my throat when I saw it was the clinic calling; thankfully, they were only letting me know that the Herp specialist wasn't going to be able to make it back from Kansas City that afternoon to perform the operation, but she was scheduled to be taken care of first thing in the morning.
I did sleep slightly better that night, but was eager to check on Fiona in the morning. I waited as long as I could (until about 10:30) before I called the vet, not wanting to be a bother but anxious to find out the status of my baby. They told me that the operation had been a success and that the vet was currently doing some call-backs, but he'd be calling me soon. Assuring me that she was okay, I hung up the phone and waited for the vet to call so that I could get the details.
About an hour later, I picked the phone up on the first ring. The vet who had done the surgery was Dr. Rausch, and he said that all was now fine. There was only little snag--Fiona's affliction wasn't a rectal prolapse. It was a penile prolapse.
Fiona was Floyd.
Honestly, I was so relieved and happy that everything was okay that I didn't even care about anything else. Dr. Rausch said that they wanted to keep him overnight to make sure he was making progress before I took him home, but I should be able to pick him up the following day. Friday morning went a lot better, to say the least. I was supposed to go to the Hub’s cousin’s (my friend Taylor)’s graduation from Vet School that afternoon (how ironic), but because of missing hours running from Topeka to Tonganoxie to Lawrence to Topeka, I wasn’t going to be able to make it to the commencement in time. Having already worked late every other day of the week, though, I was still going to be off a little early, so I was able to get to the clinic to pick up Floyd with enough time to talk to Dr. Rausch.
As I waited for him to get done with an appointment, they brought Floyd out to me, who was awake and alert and I assume ready to go home. When Dr. Rausch stepped out, I shook his hand and thanked him for everything, and we discussed some of the issues at hand:
Floyd is definitely a boy (or now an it), I was going to have to give Floyd medicine for coccidia and pinworms for the next week, and the prolapse was physiologically inevitable due to Floyd’s lack of a tail.
He agreed with me that there was no room in Floyd’s body for the hemipene to be stored; he said that as Floyd was growing and maturing, his hemipenes were also growing, and in-effect out-growing the limited area they had in Floyd’s body. Had Floyd been Fiona, it wouldn’t have been a problem. {As far as the coccidia and pinworms go, I knew beforehand that beardies always have certain levels of coccidia and pinworm eggs in their systems; like yeast is a natural part of a woman’s system, coccidia is part of the natural flora of a bearded dragon’s system. When the lizard gets sick or stressed, the coccidia and the pinworms reproduce to the point of an imbalance in the g.i. system, thus resulting in Coccidiosis and a pinworm infection (like an imbalance in the woman’s system would lead to a yeast infection). For both, the trick is to keep the levels balanced, because you’re never going to be able to completely eliminate either. }
In any case, I wrote the check for $221.46 and took my baby home.

Looking back, I’m wondering what the deal was with Herbie. I thought at the time that he was just a pedophile. Now it turns out he’s gay, too.
I wonder if he’s catholic?

Abortion Truck

2005-05-13T15:34:00.000-07:00

Abortion Truck
Click on the picture to see a better view.
Gross!

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig (SF vol. IV)

2005-05-13T09:45:00.001-07:00

How much more could we pack into one weekend? Well, it wasn't over yet. MJ and I both woke up a little late on Sunday (I with amazingly no after-effects from the previous night), but got right to it. After getting clean and beautiful, we headed out for breakfast and the beginning of the final day of my visit. I don't even remember the name of the place we went to, but it was a little bagel shop down the strip from a Peet's coffee. MJ got a bagel, I got a grilled panini and a Martinelli's apple juice. First intrigued by the neat bottle, MJ gave me a "Welcome to California!" when I took my first sip. It is the most delicious juice I've ever had the luck to experience--like poking a straw into a fresh apple that I would pick off of the tree in my front yard. We headed to Peet's once our bellies were full, mainly to pick up a souvenir for the Hub. Not really knowing for sure what to bring him back, hearing MJ talk about how delicious Peet's coffee is, knowing how much the Hub loves his coffee, and, sadly, attracted by the name (remember, my beloved feline-son Peter), I decided that some freshly-ground house blend was the way to go. The very helpful, very friendly little guy behind the counter assisted me in figuring that the house blend was probably the best way to go for my Hub, and he gave me a complimentary cup, to boot. My friend MJ does not lie. It is the best coffee I've ever had. Out the door with the Hub's gift, we decided to go ahead and take care of some more sight-seeing. First off to the Golden Gate Bridge, which is by far more picturesque than I had ever imagined. MJ waited patiently for me while I snapped pictures of the bridge, the passing sailboats, the surrounding areas, the water and sky on the horizon, the breakers on the rocks, and everything else. The salty air was like home, comforting and enveloping and reaching into the furthest depths of my being.
Noting the time, I surrendered to the car and we drove out to Lombard Street. The most crooked/curvy street in the world, it's touted. MJ again waited for me while I acted like a tourist, getting the best pictures after I scaled a little half-wall and teetered precariously at the top. Rejoining MJ, we made our way down the street, her driving skills never failing, but my abused stomach growing a bit testy. More pictures from the bottom, and we were off again. This time to North Beach, which was the setting of a large portion of the Beat movement back in the 60s. We saw City Lights Bookstore and Jack Kerouac Alley, where I hopped out to again take more pictures, including one shot down the alley which was completed by the homeless man laying on the sidewalk. We didn't have time to go into the bookstore, so MJ circled the block and picked me up at the corner of the alley and Columbus. While waiting to get back onto Columbus, I looked up to see two big box trucks (like Ryder Moving trucks) that had "Stop Abortion Now" messages written on the sides, complete with real photos of aborted fetuses. Gross, yes, but naturally, I had to get some pictures of them. Again, could I use that damn Hello thing or figure out some way to post my photos, you would be able to see them {Update: Still working on the photo program, but I was able to get one Abortion Truck picture up}. Anyway, I was still needing to pick up some souvenirs for some of my friends, so we headed on to Chinatown. MJ parked the car and we walked up and down the streets of Chinatown, being accosted on every corner by little Asian women advertising Dim Sum. I eventually found all of the needed goods, and though we could have walked around a lot longer, the time was not permitting. On the way out we hit a Chinese market, where I picked up some real Chinese candy for the Hub (he has since eaten it all but the Super-Ume "It's so good candy", which I guess was really sour). He was especially a fan of the White Rabbit cream candies, in case you need a recommendation. The trip back to the flat to grab my bags and then the following drive to the airport were just like any other drive we'd taken over the weekend--it was as if it hadn't really sunk in that I was leaving already. Such a short trip, but so incredibly rewarding. When MJ dropped me off at the airport, I had tears in my eyes. We've known each other since we were 17, and though we have both gone on with our separate lives, we are very much kindred spirits. I said it to her over the weekend and I'll say it again: you never have friends who know you like the ones you had in college (though MJ and I met sooner, we were friends throughout our college years; I even still have her college graduation announcement). Something about the people who knew you when you were first becoming who you are today. They're irreplaceable. Getting home at almost 2am on Monday (Kansas time) thanks to United Airlines, I was wiped out. I had a doctor's appointment that afternoon, so I had already made accommodations for work, but I called them around 7:30am and let them know that I for sure wouldn't be coming in. Let the dogs out to pee, turn the lights on for the lizards, and it was back to bed, this time curling up in the nest that the Hub makes in the pillowtop of our mattress. Something about that spot for me is golden, and I was out again until after 2pm. My appointment ended up being cancelled (not bad, since I've only had it since February), so I loafed around with the kids for the rest of the afternoon and reflected on how lucky I am to have the friends I do and the life they've been a part of helping me create.

2005-05-12T20:51:00.000-07:00

MJ and Dora

2005-05-12T20:48:00.000-07:00

Haight-Ashbury

Music and Whiskey and Vomit, Oh My! (SF vol. III)

2005-05-12T19:29:00.000-07:00

So MJ and I are all dolled up and ready to head out to the American Head Charge show at the Warfield in San Francisco. She in a hot-hoochie-mama-pink dress, fishnets, and big black boots; I in jeans and a black sleeveless shirt to show off my tattoos, and of course the super-kick-ass-but-goddammit-the-blister black and white shoes. MJ stopped along the way at a liquor store so I could hop out and buy some whiskey; we figured we'd be hanging out with the guys on their tourbus (uh, their current home), and you can't very well do that (unless you're a groupie) without bringing thanks-for-the-hospitality-and-putting-us-on-the-guestlist gifts. MJ had a big container of the afore mentioned cookies, and I got the 5th of Jim Beam.
We got the car parked in a reasonable area (though none of the club-surrounding-areas were very good) and headed on into the show. AHC was one of the openers for Mudvayne, who I also like pretty well, but MJ and I had already discussed the possibility of abandoning the show after AHC's set and hitting a karaoke bar or something with the guys.
It was an energetic set, including songs from their previous and current albums, all much appreciated by the audience. I thought they got a good response from the crowd, who moshed and screamed and put up the devil-horns whenever appropriate. Their last song, "Seamless," was especially intense, as Martin (their vocalist) made a comment that I read as somewhat of a dedication to their recently departed guitarist. Live and on their albums, their grinding, throbbing metal sound is musically balanced and contoured by the keyboards; the result is a concoction of melodic trance, driving rhythms, heart-ripping chords, and technical composition. Yes, I'm a weirdo. If you love music, sometimes you have to dissect it to see what makes it work, you know?
Anyway, like I said, it was a great set. Afterwards, MJ and I milled around for a bit, taking in the Warfield Theatre and the various characters in attendance. Finally we decided to go ahead and take the chance of leaving (no re-entry) to see if we could find the bus.
Lighting a clove cigarette as we walked outside, we discussed our options and decided to venture around the block (MJ remembered a guy talking about running into the Mudvayne guitarist back there, so we thought we'd give it a try). We walked around the corner and almost immediately saw Justin, the keyboardist, who was one of my favorite guys in the band from the last time MJ and I hung out with them at Ozzfest way back in 2001 (my bachelorette party, of all things). We talked awhile and convinced him to be the token male to walk us back to our car so we could get the presents (it's amazing what dropping the homemade-chocolate-chip-cookie phrase can do).
Back to the bus with the cookies and the booze, we boarded and I immediately felt like I was imposing on their space. No one did anything to make me feel that way, but it's just a matter of invading someone's personal territory--an already too-small living area that they're already having to share with too many people. Justin and their replacement guitarist Benji did their best to make sure MJ and I felt welcome, though, noshing on the cookies and thanking us for the gifts and coming to the show. When Sir Banks, the bassist, appeared from the back to greet us and confiscate the cookies and the Beam, it all felt a little more comfortable. He showed himself as being as nice as he was before, and we all started talking more with the opening of the whiskey. MJ and I soon met a couple from the SF area who were also visiting the guys and hanging out. Kat and I almost immediately took up telling dog stories and laughing about our respective goofballs. Sir Banks, seeing there were enough people to play a game, brought out a small contraption with 4 joysticks attached. Only they weren't joysticks. They were conductors.
He told us the gist of the game and he, Daniel (Kat's boyfriend), Kat, and I took a joystick. Daniel was the first to go down, as the electric shock brought him to his knees with a pseudo-mammalian cry of surprise. And again. And again. Round after round, Daniel kept getting shocked while the rest of us and the quickly-gathered audience roared with laughter. Finally, Kat traded joysticks with him to see if it was a set-up, but to no avail. Not only did he get shocked the next time, but Kat and I did, too. Let's just say that I'm glad I didn't have to pee at the time.
Martin eventually made his way to the front of the bus, mainly to get his dinner, and as usual didn't say much. A very nice and intelligent guy, his mantra is "Don't speak unless absolutely necessary." Whatever the case, he's a cool cat and when the night was over, he was my new favorite of the group.
Some more whiskey and cookies and coming-and-going later, MJ informs me that we're all going to Zeitgeist (the very same bar she and I went to the previous night). We all loaded up on the trolley-car and descended upon the bar with various forms of ID and cash. A round of drinks purchased, bartenders tipped, and we headed out back to the patio area, taking over the table to the far side of the yard.
More conversation and laughter, another clove cigarette, and someone from a nearby table passed over a different kind of smoke. Eventually, it ended up in my hand, and I thought, "What the hell? It's not like I'm going to go have to get tested or anything." What I should have been thinking is, "Well, you've not had a lot to eat all day, and you've been drinking, and you haven't smoked pot in almost 10 years, and you remember what happened the last time you tried to smoke and drink at the same time..." Strangely, none of those thoughts entered my head until later, so I took a puff and passed it on. Yes,--I've said it before--I'm an idiot.
It didn't take long before I had my head down on the table and knew I was fucked up beyond belief. I tried to talk to MJ, and though my words were incoherent, she knew I was sorry-assed-out-of-it. Martin went to the bar and got a grilled cheese sandwich, which he brought back and shared with me. All the while I'm struggling with the cottonmouth to get a bite down, Justin is across from me saying that the cheese and the grease are really bad for me in that (and any) condition, and that the cheese is going to clog my valves. Clog my valves. Clog my valves.
I didn't even get my head all the way under the table before I projectile-vomitted a stream about 3-feet out. Somehow the bench beside me was unoccupied, so none of the high-velocity chunks became part of the apparel of anyone in my immediate area. MJ and Martin were up without delay, MJ bringing me a wet towel and Martin handing me a glass of water. My valves were not clogged at all, and with the fire-power I possessed, I even managed to avoid puking on my shoes. I was still somewhat bent under the table, trying to expunge the evil demons from my being, but almost instantly feeling better. Not normal or sober, but better. I was still fucked up, mind you, but with the emptying of my system I was once again functional. We stayed a little longer, but I knew if I was going to revive any more I was going to have to walk this one off. And walk we did.
We made it out of the bar without any further incident (I think my spewing foamy whiskey and chewed-up grilled cheese was by far enough), and we began the hike back to the bus. I don't know how long a walk it was exactly, but it for sure wasn't a short jaunt around the block. With MJ and Martin steadying me occasionally, I was able to pull myself together and walk with the group at a good clip all the way back.
We arrived back at the bus and hung out for another little while, this time joined by the busdriver and a couple of roadies. MJ got the brilliant idea to drunk-dial Waveline, so we pulled the busdriver in on the voicemail message to personify Waveline's good friend Jim Beam. Somewhere in the mayhem, the band's other guitarist, Karma (who had not joined us on the night's adventure), appeared with another guy who I think was either a roadie or a friend of his. MJ and I sat across from each other at a little table, a guy and a girl sat on one of the benches further into the bus (drinking Captain Morgan's and chasing it with Coke), the guitarist Benji and his groupie were making out across from the guy and the girl, the strange roadie J-Rock was sitting next to MJ, Karma was standing in the aisle of the bus, and his friend was sitting next to where he was standing, eyes glued to Karma. I was still pretty fucked up, but nicely so (meaning, I was able to enjoy the state of being), and all of the layers of interaction in that one little capsule of an environment were insane. Watching the guy and the girl sit and take shots of rum and then chaser, I realized that they were in their own little world. As were Benji and his groupie, who was then on his lap straddling him (they soon left our area for the bunks, where I assume he got a blowjob). J-Rock the strange was hitting on MJ and trying to see if she and I would partake in some girly action. Karma, standing in the aisle at the front of the bus, was doing his best to try to be witty, but sounding more to me like he was reciting jokes from some stand-up comedian he'd seen; his friend, who I presume had some sort of man-crush on him, just sat there mesmerized, chiming in occasionally to further pad Karma's ego (calling him "brilliant" and the like). These two in particular were amusing me in my non-sober state; as Karma did his best to appear intelligent and cynical (but came across more as being insecure, ever the showman for any attention), even making sarcastic comments to we un-famous-non-musicians (for all he knew); his sidekick lovingly looked on, laughing at all of the punchlines and egging him on to further his performance. What a pair, these two. I wonder if Karma employs that guy to be the Robin to his Batman, or if the guy just wants to blow someone in a band (I guess groupies come in all forms, right?).
In any case, Benji and his girl had moved on back to his bunk, and some of the other guys had returned to to the bus to get ready for that night's travel. Sir Banks made a detour to the pisser on his way through the bus, and found, much to everyone's dismay, a big wad of toilet paper thrown into the toilet (a big no-no in a communal, mobile commode). Raising all of hell with his angry shout, Sir Banks let us know that whoever was responsible for the tp was going to have to go fishing for it, because he wasn't going to do it. I was a little impressed when Benji's groupie readily admitted to the error and reached in (with a toilet-paper-covered hand) and removed the bothersome matter. Benji, meanwhile, was sitting up in his bunk with his pants half-way down, but his girl never missed a beat--she discarded the tp in the trash outside and promptly rejoined him, closing the door that led to the bunk area on her way back through.
A little more time passed before they (and we) had to depart, but when the busdriver made his final call of the night we knew we must adjourn. Walking back to the car, MJ said she couldn't believe how resilient I was, and was happy that I had rebounded the way I had. A "Rock Star," she called me, which made me feel a little better and a little less embarassed by my behavior. I suppose if there was a group of people who could understand, it would be those guys, but I don't particularly like to be a burden.
MJ drove back to the flat and we got ready for bed. When I went back to thank her once more and tell her goodnight, she was working on a puzzle (MJ, do you ever freakin sleep?), so I went on and crashed. A gentle rain was tapping on the window and the balcony outside my bedroom, and I was grateful for the peace that concluded the night.

Again, I have to give a huge thank-you (again) to both MJ and to Martin. I am extremely fortunate to have had such caring people around me, and I appreciate your help more than either of you could know! Next time, I'll be the babysitter and you crazy kids can have some fun.

2005-05-11T12:29:00.000-07:00

Chinatown

Be Sure to Wear Some Flowers in Your Hair....(SF vol. II)

2005-05-11T11:24:00.001-07:00

The Hub called Saturday at about 10:20 am Kansas time (which is a painful 8:20 am San Francisco time) and woke me from my exhausted slumber. It took me a moment to figure out where I was and what I was doing on the phone with the person I normally wake up with, but just a brief moment--I was excited to start the day!
{Side note: On Thursday night before leaving for SF, the Hub and I discovered that one of our snake-children, Stewart (my Anerythistic, or Black Albino, male), was missing. Gone without a trace, he didn't even disturb the lid to his tank. We turned the kids' room upside-down looking for him, to no avail. Feeling desperate, I turned to the almighty, ever-truth-telling Eight Ball and asked, "Will [Hub] find Stewart this weekend while I'm gone?" I was relieved when the response was, "It is certain." Sure enough, Hub was calling me on Saturday morning to let me know that he had found Stewart, who had been hiding in the closet of the kids' room, down inside a bag that contained a peat brick. The Hub also informed me that he had caught another snake outside (this one a rat snake), as well as a male box turtle to put in with our female (who lives outside right now). A few minutes after hanging up, my phone rang again, and it was again the Hub. This time he treated me to a play-by-play of turtle-porn, as within minutes of putting the male in with our female, they were already locked up. Aaaahhhh.....Kansas entertainment.....}
Finally able to drag myself out my cozy cloud of a bed, I noticed that MJ was awake and talking to her Grandmother at the front door. Once her Grandmother left, we talked about plans for the day, got in our respective showers (oh shit, we forgot to turn the water-heater on!), and got ready for our next adventure. We began the morning by walking down to one of MJ's favorite Chinese bakeries to get some Dim Sum take-out (instead of sitting, you go through a line and select your items) for our breakfast. Dim Sum was a new experience for me, but MJ was a pro--she even ordered the items by their real names, instead of in English. I was impressed, but how, you ask, was the food? Well, the first thing we got into was the sesame balls, and I must say, that little round orb of sweet deliciousness was one of the best things I've ever had. The crispy outside and sweet, warm, doughy inside about had me falling on the sidewalk in ecstasy. We kept walking, trying to find a public-transit stop that had a map posted, and MJ handed me a barbeque pork bun (roll?). As I nearly collapsed in orgasm from the heaven that had just crossed my palate, we came upon (no pun intended) a trolley map. We realized that we weren’t too far from the Haight-Ashbury District, which was our next destination. We took off in the direction necessary and, a few blocks later, saw Golden Gate Park. A detour through Golden Gate Park appealed to us both, so we set to it.
{Side note: Before leaving for SF, the Hub and our kids gave me a Mother’s Day gift—a pair of shoes I’ve had my eye on but wasn’t willing to pay the dough for. Excited and eager to show off my cool new kicks, I wore them on my trip, and, because I flew United and didn’t want to check a bag, didn’t bring any other footwear. Yes, I’m an idiot, and no, I don’t claim to have a lot of common sense. During our walk, MJ and I had to stop at a drug store and get some bandaids. What I got instead, lucky me, was a package of Band-Aid bandages for blisters. They’re awesome—I was instantly without pain from the freshly-open blister on the back of my heel. Worth every cent of that $4.99.}
Walking, walking, walking through Golden Gate Park. It was absolutely beautiful—snowy blankets of tiny white flowers, symmetric balances of landscaping and natural beauty, and tons plant life that I had never before seen. A Horticulturist’s wet dream! Aloe trees--yes, trees--taller than even MJ, gardens of foxgloves and patches of nasturtium, which we helped ourselves to (MJ informed me that the flowers are edible, and that they reportedly taste like radishes; after eating one, we both agreed that they have a spicy radish kick, but are much sweeter). Lost in the spectacular scenery and absorbed in the conversation, I didn't even really notice, until MJ started laughing, that we had walked in a complete circle through the park. A 3-and-a-half-hour circle, approximately, but the weather was mild enough so I didn't end up sweating like a fat-hairy-man-swine-beast like I normally do (a trait given me by my Mother). We changed our path and headed to our destination once more. (Mind you, I'm a shutter-bug. The entire trip, I was taking photos like a Japanese tourist in Washington D.C., and MJ was patient enough to just let me go to it.)

View from Golden Gate Park, Nasturtium

Venturing onto Haight was an experience in its own. We walked along, noticing the people (and I noticing all of the dogs--"Oh look, there's a Bernese Mountain Dog--hey, there's a Standard Poodle--oh, wow! A Landseer!--Check out the little Shar Pei mix.....!" {sorry about that, MJ; I know I'm annoying} Anyway, we peeped into a couple of stores and found a little boutique with handmade, very SF, skirts and blouses. If I were a man, I'd be a premature ejaculator; I blew my wad (at least all the $ I had put in my pocket for that little walk) in that 2nd little boutique we went to. However, I did get a fabulous maroon silk/polyester skirt that has enough material to make a hot-air balloon (the little Asian guy called it a "dancing skirt"). Nevermind the bullocks, that baby had to be mine. And so it was. Now with no dough, we decided to keep walking anyway and just see what we could see. Lots of little shops, plenty of pan-handlers, and a couple of intersections later, we came to the Goodwill Store. Who wouldn't go into the Goodwill Store on Haight? I'm a sucker for 2nd-hand goods anyway, so we commenced to the investigation of what people in San Francisco don't want anymore. We looked around a while, and I found MJ over at the dress rack admiring a black velvet shirt. Oh, wait...it's on the dress rack...it must be a dress, right? Well, MJ is 6'3" and has the legs to pull it off, so it was a short black velvet dress. She tried it on and it looked fabulous--she commented that coupled with a pair of nice undies and some fishnet knee-highs with garters, she'd be set (and I believe it!). While waiting for her to change, I found a killer faux leopard fuzz coat that fit perfectly; the collar hugged my neck, and cut like an A-line, it bloused out roundly at the bottom. It was destined to be mine. Alas, being the impulsive/compulsive person that I am, after buying my dream skirt within the first 15 minutes of being on Haight, I had depleted my on-hand funds (and borrowed a couple of bucks from MJ to cover the tax on the damn thing), so we had to leave our treasures at the Goodwill. Dammit! With 3 $1 bills left betwixt us, I suggested we ride the cable-car back to the flat. My legs were pretty tired, and we still had some time left before we were supposed to go to the American Head Charge show later that night. We got back MJ's place and rested for a few moments before going upstairs to visit with her Grandmother. I did my best to hide my tattoos for the introduction, but I think she was more aghast at my admitting I'd vote for Hillary in 2008 than any of my body art once our conversation progressed. To be in her 80s, she looks good and is more with it than I've ever known my Great-grandma to be. We all chatted it up for a while and then MJ and I made it downstairs, where we progressed to getting ready for our Saturday night out.

You're Not In Kansas Anymore

2005-05-10T13:22:00.000-07:00

It's Tuesday, and I'm still recovering from what was one of the best weekends I've had in a long time, flying to "SF" and visiting with my old friend MJ. She and I have known each other since nerd camp in Kentucky (http://www.kygsp.org/) the summer after our junior years of high school. MJ is a magnificent creature, all in all, and I will say one of my favorite human beings, and it was so good to see her again.
The time change kicked my ass from the beginning. I arrived in SF (which is what the hipsters call San Francisco, I learned on the flight out there) a little before 9 pm, which would be 11 pm Kansas time, on Friday night. I was exhausted, but from the time MJ picked me up, I was exhilarated and ready for anything. We drove to her folks' house in Redwood City (I think that's right) and I chatted with her Dad (about the evolution of god and how ridiculous the bible can be--see Leviticus), she made the Nieman-Marcus recipe chocolate chip cookies (yum!), and we discussed what was on the docket for the weekend.
When MJ's cookies were done, we packed some up and hit the road again to SF, to a club called Zeitgeist. After hitting the bar for a beer, we walked outside to the patio area and almost immediately began talking to a cat by the name of Kool Kyle. MJ first complimented him on his hat, and we all just ended up conversing from there. He's in a pop-punk-rap group called Inspector Double Negative (http://www.koolkyle.com), and we talked for a while about the fusion of the three types of music and such. He and his pals left, and MJ and I just took to people watching. I learned pretty quickly that while a lot of the folks in SF are super nice, there are some who just try a little too hard on their image. But I guess that's the case everywhere.
In any case, following Zeitgeist we migrated down to a Karaoke club called The Mint. The list was closed, but we hung out for a little bit and did some more catching up, and listened to other people do the entertaining. The people in SF must take their Karaoke pretty seriously, because they were all pretty good--even the little balding white guy who sang Purple Rain.
We were both fading, so we headed back to MJ's (future) flat, which is spectacular! Just up a little ways from Presidio Heights, the building (and I'm assuming the entire row) was built after the big SF earthquake in 1906. The architecture is amazing, down to the details of trim, hardwood floors, a balcony overlooking the city and the Masonic temple, and a textured design on the plaster hallway walls. There are even crystal doorknobs on the bedroom doors. MJ's Grandmother is a San Francisco native (which never even struck me as being possible), and she owns the building; she lives in the flat upstairs, MJ's flat is in the middle, and there's a "Garden Apartment" below. MJ hasn't moved to SF just yet (that's supposed to happen this fall), but her Grandmother was kind enough to let us stay there for the weekend.
It was sleep time, big time. And Saturday was a long and overflowingly-wild enough day to deserve its own entry, so this will have to be continued...

Psycho Fair

2005-05-05T11:50:00.000-07:00

It's been a little while, but I've been busy as hell this week.
Instruments at work don't want to run right, so I've been working on the same two sets of samples for almost two weeks. Thankfully, they're on my bosses desk right now, waiting final review before I enter and report results.
But enough of that.
Last weekend was a good one. The hub and his Dad went on a motorcycle trip to southern Illinois, so I was alone for a couple of days.
Dessa, Tricia and I went to the Kansas City Psychic-Fair on Friday night. I've been looking forward to it for a while, as I'm very much into the metaphysical and paranormal. Let's just say that the folks there weren't normal, but they didn't seem paranormal, either. All in all it was pretty good, but I was a bit disappointed with my reading.
We walked into the convention center and immediately into the vendor area. The area with the psychics and readers was sectioned off, so on Dessa's recommendation, we went ahead into the reading area and got our names on some lists. Each psychic/reader had a waiting list outside of their little table, and after searching around and making eye contact with as many as I could, I put my name on the list of a psychic named Aluuna. She was relatively normal looking, but something about her and her (presumably Wiccan) name struck me. At the fairs, readings are really inexpensive; I paid my $8 and took a seat to wait.
Dessa got in with a woman named Nicki, who was one of the strangest human beings I have ever laid eyes on--more on that later. Des said her reading went really well, and, though short, was seemingly accurate and to-the-point. Tricia waited with me to try to get in to see a man by the name of Don-Don, who was supposedly a Native American "seer." I personally had never heard of a Native American named Don-Don, but Tricia was intent on talking to him.
Hours went by, we all toured the vendor booths, had aura photos taken, and Tricia and I were still waiting to see our respective psychics. We found out that Don-Don wasn't taking any more people, but Tricia wanted to hang out and see if he could fit her in; Aluuna was taking a long time with each person (which is what I wanted, as well), and I was still so far on down her list that it didn't look like I was going to get in with her (it ended at midnight).
Finally, Trish went over to Nicki, who had done Dessa's reading, and got right in. Upon returning to where Des and I were sitting, she seemed really pleased with her reading and happy with how Nicki related to her. So, thinking what-the-hell-I've-already-paid-my-fee, I stood up and went over to Nicki's booth.
Des had warned us both that Nicki was an odd bird--perhaps albino, nearly blind, snow-white hair, and wandering eyes. Yes, eyeS. I sat down across from her and was immediately baffled by what was before me. She seemed nice enough, and we started the reading with some shuffling of tarot cards and my 3 questions. The entire time, her two eyes are twitching and spinning in two different directions--when she had them open. I don't know if it was painful for her to open her eyes, or if she was just trying to be discrete about the fact that they pointed in two different directions, but even under her eyelids you could see them twitching--especially the right one. Like a doll with loose googly-eyes, she was scanning the entire room at once with her white/blue orbs looping and swirling around. Let me state this plainly--her eyes were not crossed together, they were splayed, each one looking at a different wall of the building. The entire thing was utterly amazing.
My reading, however, left something to be desired. My first question was dealing with some health issues I'm having, and her response was, "What kind of health issues?" I was thinking that I shouldn't have to tell that to a psychic, but whatever. The other questions she answered with pretty generic replies, but for some reason, my eyes filled up with tears and I started crying. Nothing she said was earth-shattering or emotional at all; I just felt my face get wet all of a sudden. I think my eyes were having sympathy tears for her, since her eyes were so fucked up.
In any case, it was a great night out. I was tired as hell when I got home, but the time spent with my friends was well worth it.

Life in a Lab

2005-04-28T16:45:00.000-07:00

Two months in and all is still going well with the new job. I'm learning (in part to a lot of self-training, which can be frustrating at times) new things, have my lab organized the way I want it, and love some of my coworkers. Isn't it funny, though, how no matter where you go, there's always those folks who grate your nerves? At the old company, that was the case with almost everyone--the ratio of we're-cool to go-jump-off-a-cliff-and-die was not a good one.
It didn't take long for me to figure out who the #1 please-go-the-hell-away person was going to be (good manners, since I'm still new). Eczema Jim.
Now, I'd like to think that I'm an open-minded individual. To set the record straight, I don't have any kind of prejudice against anyone with any type of skin disorders. Just don't pick your sores until they bleed while you're sitting across from me at the lunch table, because I'll throw up in my mouth. I know, because I've seen me do it.
Eczema Jim (EJ), with his bloody earlobe and HUGE dandruff flakes and dirty shirt and greasy hair is not only a sight to behold, but an odor that will linger in the atmosphere long past his presence. It's not just a body odor. It's an unbelievable sudoriferous schmegma funk--an odor so foul it makes your eyes water. It's undescribable. Crusty, kind-of, cheesy; B.O. with a starchy aftertaste, with essences of mildew and cat urine. Breathing through your mouth doesn't help at all, and since he's training me a lot of the time, I'm holding my breath so much that I can feel my brain cells exploding from lack of oxygen.
Showering about once per work week (who knows what goes on on the weekends?), you'd think EJ would at least change clothes. But then, you'd be thinking incorrectly. Stories told, in the winter time he's known to wear the same sweatshirt for days on end--he just turns it inside out every other day. He has a terry-cloth Sean John shirt that seems to be a favorite, as it is stained and crusted around the collar but still gets worn at least once a week. Yes, that's right, a Sean John shirt; on a 5-foot-4, 280-lb, 52-year-old man. Disgusted yet? I'm not even warmed up.
EJ seems to collect funk and flakes around his eyebrows and glasses, and it seems to be breaking his forehead out. Besides the eczema, he's got adult acne--thing is, the way he picks at things, you never know the cause of any given facial sore.
This all sounds really mean, now that I'm re-reading what I've written. But I can't lie. I've had an extended exposure to him today, and my lab still has his lingering scent. I stole a can of air-freshener off of the janitor's cart, but it's not really helping matters. Now I just smell orange-bouquet-asshole.
It would all be a lot easier to handle if EJ wasn't so damn obnoxious. He knows it all, and he's never wrong. 9 times out of 10, if he's responding to something you've said, he will start off his remark with "No...", because he's correcting you. Even if it was just a matter of your opinion, you're wrong. Besides "No," his favorite word is "kinky," which really earns a gag when coupled with his aroma and his eyebrow flakes. He hangs around like a bugaboo, waiting for someone to say something he can correct, spreading his odor around, puffing up his chest and putting his shoulders back to strut his stuff when someone has to ask him for help. Since I'm doing his old job now, unfortunately I'm usually the one having to ask him for help. After more than 20 years with the state, he was promoted when a spot opened above him (he was the only one who could have taken the position, or they would have had to hire from outside). His email signature now reads "Lead Chemist."
I'm usually pretty good at identifying odors. I can almost always pick out a perfume or cologne after I've only smelled it only once, I can name food smells and floral smells with amazing accuracy, and normally use the proper adjectives to paint a good picture when trying to relay an odor to someone else. There was a women's restroom at my old job that always smelled like shit, dirty pussy, and bad breath. That's an easy picture to paint, and I'm sure you can recall all of those smells in order to get the idea. Yet, I don't feel I've done EJ justice.
Take normal non-bathing body odor, throw in the scent of bloody boogers, soggy saltine crackers, boiled eggs, damp shower shoes, and fertilizer. Now add the aroma of a dirty litter box, that sponge that's been soaking in the dishwater all weekend, and some burned sausage grease. Still, you'll need to stir in a slight touch of skunk, a heaping spoonful of that musky grandmother smell, and then a hint of dead-and-rotting beagle. I think that gets a little closer to the real deal.
Grossed out? Tell me about it. I get to deal with it 40 hours a week. Of course, it's still better than working with Suzanne Steel.

Steak and Potatoes

2005-04-25T07:35:00.000-07:00

It was a pretty non-eventful weekend, thank goodness. Got my hair cut, went out to dinner with some friends, saw a horror flick, delivered a pet turtle. Sounds like a lot, but it was mostly down-time, not having to worry about having to be somewhere or having to get anything done.
The hub and I had dinner Saturday night with some good friends of ours, JR and Dessa. Wonderful, down-to-earth, fun, easy-going folks, who are originally from a town less than 2-hours away from where I was born and raised through childhood in North Carolina. It's nice to have people who can identify with chores of picking up pinecones, and who can vouch for your stories of using the windshield scraper to remove pine pollen (instead of ice) from your car. We can laugh together and have fun, and, unlike most couples in our age group, don't have to worry about human children getting in the way of plans (JR and Des want kids at some point, but timing just hasn't been right so far--which works for the hub and myself). JR and I used to work for the same company, and Des does my hair, so we're all pretty well connected. He still works for that company, unfortunately. I almost feel like I deserted him, since I left almost 2 months ago to start my current job with the State. He's miserable (probably not as miserable as I was when I left, since he's not yet having thoughts of attaining firearms), and I often email him job-listings from CareerBuilder and other sites; when a company can't appreciate people who practically give their lives up for them, it's beyond time to go (time to go starts when you're willing to do so).
In any case, we went to dinner at a very crowded, very busy steakhouse in a nearby town. All was going well--instead of having to wait the estimated hour-and-a-half to get a table, JR hustled us into a table near the bar area less than 5-minutes after we walked in (no shit, the seats were still warm from the cattle who had been sitting there prior to us). Waitress was nice, appetizer rolls were good, (sadly, my whiskey-and-coke was on the weak side), and then came the ruckus of the evening. The guy who brought out our food, all of our plates on one giant tray that he held with one arm high above his head, hung around just long enough to go into a violent-twitching-full-body-Tourette's-syndrome tic. I looked at the hub, who really hasn't been exposed to many things of this nature, and he was about to fall out. Eyes as big as our baked potatoes and mouth slightly ajar, he asks quietly, "What in the hell was that?" Des and I answered, almost in unison, that he has Tourette's syndrome. But it was too late. JR and my hub were in awe, their eyes glued to the server's every move for the remainder of the night.
I don't think our curious husbands were entirely obvious. At least no more than any of the other patrons of the restaurant. I think even Des snuck a few stares, but I simply and uncomfortably averted my eyes, hoping the guys would do the same and have a little compassion. Unfortunately, my hub caught the one tic that actually had sound-effects, and sadly, it wasn't yelling out obscenities.
He barked like a dog. Not one bark, just to get it out of his system, but a rapid-fire succession of "Rar-rar-rar-rar-rar" with his head cocked over to one shoulder and his body stiff with spasm.
And my husband saw it.
After being together more than five years, he knows how sensitive I am to people (or animals)with special needs or defects of any kind. But this was too much for him to hold in. He crumbled in (thankfully) silent laughter, face flushing and eyes wetting, as he (again thankfully) discretely replayed for us what had taken place. Okay, as discretely as possible.
Our table had been erupting in laughter practically all night, as tales of spitballs and boogers and old coworkers unfolded. With a grace that is normally not possessed or displayed by my hub, he relayed our server's performance without anyone else catching on--what with the dull roar of the crowded restaurant and the clanging of glasses at the bar, I was somehow saved the humiliation that normally would have been my fate. And, yes, I admit, I laughed a bit as well--not at the expense of our server, but at the performance of my hub, who has been known to be incredibly shy and reserved at times. Wrong--maybe; funny--yes.

Getting ready for work this Monday morning, the hub and I have the news on while we're eating our breakfast and drinking coffee. Apparently there was a murder over the weekend in one of the towns outlying Kansas City. The body was found by the dumpsters, and the news crew was interviewing some of the residents of the apartment complex to get a feeling for the situation. Lo and behold, who was the resident they interviewed and showed on this morning's news?
You guessed it, the Tourette's syndrome Server from our restaurant Saturday night. Tics and all, right there on camera.
Coincidence--maybe; funny--absolutely.

I Can't Sleep

2005-04-19T13:54:00.000-07:00

I'm losing my memory because I can't sleep at night.
No particular reason I can think of, no urgent driving brainstorm on the brink of breaking that's keeping my mind humming beyond drowse. Just can't sleep.
I lay in bed next to the hub and listen to him breathe, listen to Charlie (the great dane mix) lick himself, and listen to Peter (my feline soul-mate) lurk around with his bell on his collar. This all wouldn't be so much of a problem, as I'm able to drive to work and function (for the most part) during the day, but now it's starting to affect me. I can't remember shit.
I can't remember what exactly I did this weekend outside of the lizard escapade, I can't remember what bills are due and what other menial tasks I need to get done, and, with the exception of what I have written on my hand, what obligations I've got to fill before the day is done.
I've begun carrying a pocket calendar so that I can remember what work schedule I'm working what week, and when my tattoo appointments are, and when my hair cut is, and when the hub and I are getting together with friends. It's a pain in the ass, because I've never had to be this organized just to get through weekly existence. I've always been a list-maker, but usually for things that more or less didn't matter. Now I'm having to lay my clothes out the night before, do things as soon as I think of them, or, as I said before, write myself notes on various body parts.
Scatterbrained?
You might say so. But I have an excuse. My lack of rest is to blame. It's not the whiskey I drank this weekend. It's not the medication. The more tired I am, the less I focus on paying attention; the more tired I am, the less I seem to be sleeping; the less sleep, well, obviously....
Last night the hub was out like a light, as usual. He began his deep sleep, with a bit of a whistle in his nose that quickly started to get on my un-sleeping nerves. I did what any good wife would do--I reached over and pinched his nose shut. I wasn't trying to smother him, I was trying to get him to breathe out of his mouth to avoid the nose-whistle. Only thing is, it made it worse. He only breathed even harder through his nose, which ended up sounding like a freight train in the Appalachian Mountains. I got so tickled by the sound, I tried only clogging up one of his nostrils. Even better! After experimenting with several different techniques, I was nearly peeing the bed I was laughing so hard. Finally I had to roll over, as I didn't want to wake him. Yes, you got that right...he's still sleeping the whole while.
Don't know what time I really went to sleep--last time I looked at the clock it was 12:14. Waking up at 5:45 sucks ass all the time, but after only 5 and a half hours? This shit is killing me.

Herbie the Horny

2005-04-18T15:13:00.001-07:00

herbie

So the hub and I finally got the new tank set up for the Bearded Dragons this weekend. Herbie, my large 8 month old male, was just too cooped up in his 20-gallon set-up, and I bought the 40-gallon breeder tank some time ago, so it was time to get busy. Fiona, my smaller, tail-less 5 month old female, was also ready for some more room. Since I've been planning on breeding the Beardies, I thought it was perhaps a good time to move them in together. I was wrong.
Now, I've introduced them several times--they're not strangers by any stretch. They've been outside together, running around in the clover and basking in the natural sunlight; they've taken baths together in the tub; they've been held simultaneously numerous times, all of us hanging out and watching tv together. Most often, Herbie will do a little head-bobbing display and they'll lick-smell each other. Fiona sometimes will crawl on top of Herbie and perch on his head, and, so long as her toenails don't get in his eyes, he seems unbothered. From all accounts of my studies, Herbie is at the age (and Fiona is at the size) that they would now be compatible without worrying about biting or fighting. Apparently that wasn't what I needed to be worrying about at all.
The tank is clean, the lights are set up, and the stand is in place. The hub filled the tank with about 60 lbs of fresh sand, and I got a nice little rock display set up to give them their basking spot and a hiding place. Clean water bowl, a nice dish of greens, and I'm thinking all is right for move-in day. Fiona in first. She's still somewhat smaller, and I didn't want Herbie to get the idea that the new territory is his by putting him in first. She's adorable. Running around, making tracks in the sand, and climbing all over the rocks. As I mentioned earlier, she doesn't have a tail. Call it a "hatch-defect," if you will. Before she was even removed from the incubator, one of her clutch-mates bit her tail off, right at the joining to the body. She doesn't have a tail, but a butt instead. It's just a little round ending to her body--I'd say even less booty than what's popular nowadays. The perpetual lover of any underdog, I'm always inclined to love what others might see as defective. It's just my nature, I suppose.
Anyway, Fi is making herself at home, so we decided to add the Herbish. He paddles around a bit, feeling the new sand between his clawed toes, and then he sees her.
Bob-bob-bob-bob, he's waving his head up and down, trying to get attention. His normally buff-colored beard goes BLACK.
Before I even realized fully what was happening, Herbie had Fiona in the corner of the tank, holding her neck with his mouth and trying to mount. Okay, so I didn't initially realize this is what was going on. I thought, he's being aggressive, he's attacking, trying to fight. Not so. After smacking him with a ruler (and getting no response), I reached in and pulled him off of her. Only to find------his PENIS, fully exposed.
Normally, a lizard's junk is tucked up inside his body, so this was quite a disturbing note. He's wriggling and getting crazy, trying to get back to what he was doing. I'm not sure what I expected from the whole thing, but I guess since Fiona is still about 6 months away from being sexually mature (and technically it's a little early for Herbie), it didn't cross my mind that he would go for the gold. Apparently my lizard is a pedophile.
I suppose that after all, the tank is called a 40-gallon "breeder."

Omaha

2005-04-12T13:11:00.000-07:00

No offense to anyone out there (okay, I really don't care much if anyone is offended), but Omaha, Nebraska sucks big ones.
Correction...Omaha-ans suck.
Let me regress...
The husband and I attended the Nebraska Herpetological Society's Spring Breeders Expo this past weekend (layman terms: lots of squirmies and lickies and bitey-things for sale all in one place), which was held in, you guessed it, Omaha. I had never been to Omaha. Shit, I'd never been to Nebraska. Let's just say my expectations weren't high, but I was certainly surprised in the experience as a whole.
Picture it: You go into a conference room at a large (by Omaha standards?) hotel, and the room is set up with tables and booths of reptile/amphibian/tarantula/breeders and all-of-the-above supply vendors. The walls are lined, and there's another ring of tables in the center of the room. Lots and lots of vendors/breeders at this show, as the Nebraska Herp Society only has 2 expos a year. We got there early but the place filled up quick, and it soon became a struggle to make the proper rounds to see who had what and then go back around to make any necessary purchases.
To make matters worse, there was a bleach-fried-hair little biotch who seemed to be keeping pace with me to nearly every table. I'd approach a table, and she'd squeeze her too-tight-illegal-in-Virginia-low-rise-jeans covered ass right in front of me. EVERY table, she'd just wedge me right out. And I'm not a little girl to be wedging around. I'm getting pissed, and becoming all too aware of how many people are in that little room with all of those squirmies, and am silently cussing myself for not packing some Ativan in my pocket before I locked my purse in the trunk.
She does it over and over and over, and finally I point her out to the hub, making "help!" eyebrows and mouthing to him my plan to make her eat the collared lizard that she's showing to her little frat-boy boyfriend.
Finally, the table where I'm about to make a purchase...a beautifully striped amel corn snakeling, and they're asking only $30. Here she comes, with a bag full of containers of all of the critters she's probably going to go home and forget about in a week. Didn't turn on her blinker. Didn't make a sideways "excuse me" (of course, why would she? just because I was having a conversation with the breeder, right there?).
She gets in close to this final table, and my big ass is ready to take action. Slightly at first, I press up against the pointy little elbow she has jutting in my direction. I've broken my nose twice while moshing (okay, once was from a crowd surfer, but still), so I'm not terribly afraid of putting momentum behind what Krispy-Kreme gave me and make my presence known. I was just trying to avoid conflict up to this point, which is the usual route (at least until my hub is out of sight). It's after that when I channel my mother and the Kentucky breaks out.
This time, I was outdone completely. I'm woman enough to admit it.
Like I said, I'm pressing on her elbow, trying to move her over. I clear my throat, since I was, until her arrival, having a conversation.
And then she did it.
SHE FLICKED HER HAIR ON ME.
I'm not talking about a tarantula flicking hair (likethis). I'm talking about nasty-dirty-frizzy-fried-gross human hair, being flicked over one's shoulder and directly into the face AND MOUTH of the larger, now literally gagging, woman standing directly behind.
Getting light headed from anger, disbelief, and utter nausea, I reach for the hub and he knows by looking at me that we've gotta go before I get arrested.
We made our way out of the show and Omaha before any true conflict erupted, as I was simply dumbfounded and the hub was ready to go before any more money was spent. We did, however, bring home two new babies, both from more local (not Nebraskan!) breeders who happened to be there. So far, they're worth it. They sure as shit better be.

An Introduction

2005-04-01T09:10:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I'm living in Kansas now. Have been for almost 5 years. Most anyone who is reading this will know that, so I'll cut to the chase.
I'm happier than I've been in a long, long time.
It's the skies, the weather, the wildlife, our land, and now, my new job. It's my husband and (for the most part) his family. It's the figuring out that I had a hormone imbalance and getting that issue resolved. It's getting great tattoos and having great sex and having great kids (not human kids, which pretty much constitutes the "great" part of kids).
On to the kids, which, like most parents, constitute a huge part of my life. And make me smile. Unless Murphy shat in her box again.
Two papillons (that's papy-ons), a great dane/black lab mix, 2 cats, 5 snakes, 2 bearded dragons, 14 tarantulas, and one african fire-belly toad. Names will come at a later time, but I will have to say happy birthday to the big guy, who turns five today. He was assigned April fool's day as his birthday for a reason.
Husband's a diesel mechanic, I'm a chemist. He's hot, tattooed, tall, and always smells good. What more could a woman want? But, he's also very much a man sometimes, which can be all a woman doesn't want, and a grudge-holding Pisces to boot. But he's working on that. He makes me laugh and wakes me in the morning with a big fart, almost like he's built up steam over night. It's an amazing relationship.
Folks and sister live in Kentucky, which is from where I moved here. Went to college at EKU and met wonderful people, from what I can remember. Moved here over Memorial Day weekend of 2000, shortly after graduating college and only 7 months after meeting my husband (then boyfriend). Didn't really have a choice in the matter. Couldn't be a body-piercer all my life, at least not when there are student loans and credit card bills to pay. College is a transition period for a reason, and when it's time to leave, you cry 3 days and then try to move on. Sometimes people don't understand that, and then get pissed when you have a hard time keeping in touch.
That's about it, for the beginning. I'm not entertaining (when I'm sober), but I might get better. No promises at this point. Love you all.