TIME FLIES LIKE AN ARROW...FRUIT FLIES LIKE ...OH YOU KNOW...DON'T MAKE ME SAY IT.
OK OK OK...A BANANA!!!HAHAHA.SERIOUSLY,TIME FLIES.
It was slow at work today so when lunch time rolled around I was offered the afternoon off. Considering I had laid in bed this morning insulated and loved by dogs, trying to figure out a way to call in sick-I jumped at the opportunity...well not really jumped,it was more like a "oh yeah? sure I suppose" cool response. The springs were still retensing on the time clock as I drove out of the parking lot. I have to keep up appearances after all.
I figured I'd take advantage of a most beautiful day and do my walk early and stopped at the hike and bike trail on my way home and did exactly that.
I noticed some things right away...actually the lack of things...specifically hordes of people,some running,some walking,some running with those obscene baby carriages almost as wide as the trail and geared out like a mountain bike with one or more children eating trail mix and drinking dasani water.(come on!TRAIL MIX???Give me a break.) Oh yeah...I almost forgot the guys speeding through this mass of humanity on bikes.Traffic so thick you'd swear you were in grand central station during commute instead of on the town lake hike and bike trail in hallowed Austin Tx. (Don't believe the hype and please don't move here...Austin,the REAL Austin died a long time ago) But I digress...
I also noticed an increase in animal activity...there were herons fishing and ducks diving for food,squirrels everywhere foraging,Turtles sunning everywhere...(this trail circles town lake AKA the colorado river)...you don't see this when the "commute" is on. It was awesome.
I was about a mile and a half into my 4.1 mile loop,when someone jogged up, put his hand on my shoulder and said," I saw all those tattoos and I knew it had to be you".
(I could never "disappear" if you know what I mean).
I knew who it was before I turned around...instant recognition from the sound of his voice,a voice from the past...Albert from the old days...I first heard that voice some 20 years ago when we worked together at a treatment center...He ended up working for some UN related organization or something and worked with people in Hong Kong and Viet Nam initially,ending up in the Balkans...I did'nt get to see him much during those years,but when he came to town we would always get together, even for a few hours.
We finished my walk together,catching up with news,most of it good,some of it bad...it was like we'd seen each other yesterday intead of 5 years,maybe 6 years ago.
I'm glad I took the afternoon off, I got a reminder that some of life's little surprises are good ones.

THE HOOK UP
I learned a lesson this weekend...Since I've been on this diet I'm under 200 ponds for the first time in a while. I don't drink as much,I don't eat as much...now on to the story.
I got up saturday early...I had a choice after the usual morning of reading news and coffee:go for a walk or watch 28 days later before I went to meet a friend at our local hang out.
I decided to watch the movie since I have been waiting for it to come out on DVD...during the course of the movie I had some margaritas...3 or 4 i think...after the movie it was time to go meet my friend.I saddled up to the bar and ordered a marg to drink while I waited for him...one turned to three and the next thing I know the manager is taking my drink away from me and telling me I've had too much and was cutting me off.
This has only happened to me once before,several years ago, a bartender friend served me the equivilent of 8 screwdrivers in 4...the barback gave me a ride home.
Anyway...it was kind of in and out for me after the manager took my drink away...I remember them saying I needed to eat something and I did...I left with my friend and we took care of our business in the parking lot... then...flash!... I was home.
Frustrated with being locked in at 198 lbs. I had stepped up my exercise and cut down on my food, I had not eaten in over 24 hours and had consumed at least 8 margaritas in a short period of time...WHAM!Instant stupid.
I just hope I did'nt "show my ass"...I don't think I did judging from the moments I was present for...but I'm not sure.
I still had all my clothes on when I got home and my truck wasn't damaged (it was parked rather askew though)...
But the point is this:
I'm 43 not 23...all those years I spent honing my ability to party have been undermined by a long overdue change in lifestyle...I forgot about those changes yesterday...and it bit me on the ass.
A bite I won't soon forget.
My life is different now,whether I like it or not.
With the exception of yesterday, I think I like it

Drunken ramblings where one thought leads to another a bit faster than I can type at 80 wpm...
I really shouldn't be blogging right now. I'm extremely sleep deprived and the only reason I'm still awake is because I have been drinking beer. Unlike many people, I do not get sleepy when I drink beer unless I only drink a few. Each beer past number three gets me more and more "wired" and if I get past a twelve pack then I'll be up all night. Right now I'm at number nine so it may be a long night unless I force myself into bed at some point. My ability to consume beer in large quantities made me somewhat legendary in my youth, at least in the crowd that I hung around with. Only one person ever outdrank me during a beer for beer match up (and there were many of these.) I conceded my title after my competitor and I had consumed a bit over a case each and he was willing to fix the hot dogs for everyone's dinner. I had decided that being around a big pot of boiling water on a stove was a bad idea after drinking a case of beer in the course of an afternoon. He decided to go for it so I declared him the winner for his bravery (foolishness) and we stopped keeping track of who drank how much after that. Who knows, I might have actually won that match when all was said and done, but I didn't mind relinquishing my title. The "I can drink more than you" thing was more important to the guys than it ever was to me because I really didn't give a shit about it. Now mind you, it's only BEER that I can tolerate in such massive quantities. Give me tequila or whiskey and I'll pass out in a reasonable amount of time like a normal person. Maybe it's my German genes though there might be a smidgen of French in the mix.

There's a rumor in my family that some great-great-great grandmother on my father's side might have really been French instead of German which in that generation would have been quite the family scandal. Hell, even my parent's generation were not supposed to marry "Amerikaners". Never mind they had all been born in America and therefore were technically "Amerikaners". Many of my aunts and uncles married outside the German community, but my folks didn't and I actually spoke German (as spoken by Texan immigrants) as a child. When I was in kindergarten, my teacher told me I should not speak German anymore because I wouldn't learn English well. Unfortunately I listened to that stupid woman and I can no longer speak German of any sort even though I did take one semester in college. I made an A, though I couldn't practice with my parents because the pronunciation was far too different from what they spoke, and I dreamed in German for about a year after that. However, that knowledge is long gone now. Learning German again is one of those "do it before I die" goals for me because I really want to go to Germany and visit where my ancestors are from in Wiesbaden and Alsace-Lorraine which I think is part of France now.

The fact that I don't know what country that region now belongs to is one of the bad things about being an American. I really have very little knowledge of the rest of the world. The news around here never devotes more than 2 seconds to world events unless our government happens to be mucking about in some other country and then you don't ever really learn anything about the country or it's culture. I'm pretty sure all the countries in Africa have changed since I had geography in high school. I have to wonder what was the point of learning all those country locations and names without learning anything else about them? I once learned a lot about India during a voluntary summer school program back in elementary school, but I can't say I was ever taught anything about any other country during normal schooling.

Now I do happen to know a bit about Mexico just by virtue of living in Texas plus there was a wonderful childhood camping trip with my extended family where we stayed by some lake in the interior for a month. No one around us spoke a word of English, my family was busy jabbering to each other in German that I could no longer understand and by the time it was all said and done, I think I ended up knowing more Spanish than German simply because the only people my age were the Spanish speakers.

I also know a bit about Canada because I used to go to a conference there every year and seriously considered immigrating at one point except that I didn't have enough "points" to qualify. I also don't like cold and snow much, and all those tower housing complexes in Toronto freak me out. But Sleeman's Brown Ale is a good beer, Lindsay is a nice little town and the countryside around there reminds me of "home" which, BTW, is not Austin even though I was born in Austin and have lived here all my life. No, "home" to me is the Texas Hill Country around Fredericksburg where my parents grew up and where I spent most of my childhood summers with relatives. I was a city girl during the winter and a country girl during the summer and if I were given a choice between the two today then I'd choose the country any day of the week. There doesn't ever seem to be a whole lot of jobs in the country, but these days there isn't a whole lot of jobs in the city either.

Rob and I have talked a lot about moving to various places in the USA as well as various countries, but I don't know if I could ever actually move away from Central Texas. Canada, Australia, New Zealand and England sound intriguing, but we don't qualify for immigration and even if we did, it would cost us a fortune to move there. Rob's got relatives in England (his mum was English), but I doubt they'd sponsor us. His dad's parents were from Nova Scotia, but we've got no ties there that we know of. I figure I must have long lost relatives in Germany since I once got a letter from Germany offering to repatriate me (back before the Berlin wall fell), but damned if I know how the German government found me in the first place. That's one of the few "what if" events from my past that I still wonder about. But if I had run off to Germany, I would have never met and later married Rob and would have missed some of the best times of my life so those "what if" moments never last very long.

Well, I think I've rambled enough here and I hope I don't wake up in the morning and regret any of this posting.

Busy, busy, busy
The last two days I've been finishing up some shirts for a sale I'm doing tomorrow and simply could not find time to blog. Rob and I are still walking our four miles a night and last night we finally did it in an hour and 20 minutes which means we've finally hit the three mile an hour pace. I think that might have been a fluke due to the fact that it got dark and we pushed ourselves to get the hell off the trail and back to the car. Tonight I get a break from the walking because I have a meeting about some website work. It's not a paying job, but one of those "could lead to something" deals. I'm well aware that they usually don't lead to any money in the bank since I've done plenty of these kinds of sites and I've yet to make a dime off of them. However, it keeps the skills sharp. Speaking of freebie sites - HEY STANLEY - if you are reading this, email me!

Then and Now
One of my most vivid childhood memories is one of going to bed at 8:00 on a perfect early summer's evening. It's still daylight and the windows are open because we don't have air conditioning. I can hear my friends playing outside and I envy them, those children who get to stay up as late as they want in the summer because they don't have to get up early and go to daycare. They are playing badminton in the street in front of my house and I so desperately want to be out there playing with them until the sun goes down and you can no longer see the shuttlecock. They are using my badminton set and I'm not so envious that I take it away from them when I have to go to bed, though I do wonder how many shuttlecocks I will have to get out of the trees the next day and if I have enough in savings to replace any broken racquets or lost shuttles.

I was very young at the time, either six or seven years old, and when a similar situation occurs today, I still do the exact same thing. I'll leave my toys behind so folks can continue their fun and then fall asleep wondering what shape they'll be in when I get them back and if I have the money to fix or replace them. However, there's a distinct difference in feeling between the childhood memories and the adult version of the same situation. As a child, I didn't have anxiety or resentment associated with the thought that I might have to replace an item. It was just a matter-of-fact analysis of the situation. There was no concern over the fact that someone might be careless or that some items might not be returned at all. My "innocence of childhood" had nothing to do with trust. I wasn't blissfully unaware that people might steal or damage my things. That did happen from time to time, but I didn't fret about what I would do if Susie who was visiting from San Antonio ran off with my badminton set, never to be seen again. So what was so different then that enabled me to drift off to sleep, worry free?

My first thought was that I hadn't yet developed an attachment to my possessions, but that didn't explain it because I did value them. I worked odd jobs around the neighborhood to earn money to buy things and this was not something that was simply handed to me by my parents. My second thought was that it was from the "endless possibilities" attitude that children often have. There will alway be more odd jobs, more money and another badminton set. That didn't ring true either because while I do recall that having that attitude at one time, I'm certain that it vanished by age four. No, I think the difference is that I didn't view other people's behavior as a reflection on myself. Susie running off with my badminton set didn't carry the same meaning then as it would now. If Susie ran off with my stuff when I was age seven, then Susie might be a thief or maybe her parents packed it up by mistake, but it was all about Susie and had nothing to do with me. However, these days my thinking would run more along the lines of wondering about myself. Was I stupid to trust Susie? Maybe Susie doesn't really like me. Did I do something to make Susie angry at me? Funny, I always thought of myself as being more self-centered as a child and less so as an adult. That's obviously not true.

THE FATE OF TERRI SCHIAVO...
I'm sure most of you have heard about the case in Florida involving Terri (in a "persistant vegative state" since 1990), Her husband (has had enough) and her parents ( Can't let go and will go so far as to demonize the husband to keep their daughter "alive" , no matter what she may have said prior to her induction into the veggie hall of fame).
And then there's the lawsuits,filed tit for tat, a plea to gub'ner jeb and a reaching out to his brother the idiot...I mean pResident. The state's involved and they have reversed an earlier ruling allowing this poor woman to go.
I can relate to all of this except the state getting involved(thank god) and making decisions that should be left to "next of kin" -The husband ( who,hopefully has power of attorney,something that protects him from the parents who wishfully say she responds to them...)
Have you seen the pictures of this woman? Does she look responsive to you?
She looks an awful lot like my Dad, who died in '99 after having a stroke in '90 thet left him in a coma for 90 days and when he woke up,he was essentially a zucchini.
A zucchini that got turned and watered and fed for NINE agonizing years...
And during those years endured amputations because of gangrene,a feeding tube and countless bouts of pneumonia...Would any of you describe this as any kind of "quality" of life???If you do...may it be visited upon you and then asked of you again...WHEN YOU CAN'T ANSWER anymore because you are produce,turned and watered and fed for however long it takes you to finally run out...like a battery...silent and unable to say what YOU want.
When my mother died in '92 I got to tell my Father over and OVER again that she was gone...we had to relive that passing for almost seven years every time I visited him , about 125 times...This was big fun,breaking my Father's heart 125 times until he died.
And Terri will die,god bless her,someday...and how many times will hearts be broken and limbs removed and infections treated before that day?
This is not a valuing of life...more like a mockery if you ask me...and you can ask me...I've been there.
I love my Father...my Dad,even now that he's gone,and I tell you what...I wish he'd died that November day in 1990,it would of saved everyone (him especially) years of unecessary pain.

Spirals that won't spiral and a charley horse to boot
I have some shirts that I want to dye in a spiral pattern. For some reason the shirts are being resistant. They don't want to fold that way, uh-uh, no how. As I'm wondering if I should allow the shirts to have their way or force them into compliance, Rob beeps me that he's leaving work early so he can feed the turtles and also walk tonight. Normally it's a choice between the two because by the time the turtles are fed, it's dark and there's no lighting on the Hike and Bike trail. I'm thinking at this point that a walk always does me a bit of good when I'm feeling frustrated, but wondering if it's a good idea to do so with a major charley horse in my left calf muscle. I might "walk it out" or I might end up curled into a ball of pain in the middle of the Hike and Bike trail with no easy means to get back to the car. And what's up with the term "charley horse" anyway? Fortunately these days I have the internet so instead of laying awake until my next trip to the library I can just look this sort of stuff up in minutes. IdiomSite

Will work for Dog Food

We purchased some really expensive dog food to see if it would help with Sullivan's allergies and one of my concerns was that all three of them might not like it. Fish and Sweet Potato doesn't sound like something a dog would like very much, but they all ate it yesterday so apparently it was suitable. I was not expecting the reaction I got this morning when I picked up their food bowls to feed them. There was an unbelievable amount of hopping and dancing around and the only thing I've ever seem them get this excited about is when we fix them chicken that's been left in the freezer too long for human taste buds. If this works for Sully's allergies then it will be worth the extra money, but I better find a job soon just to pay for the food.

Sully, Theo and Irene
          

Oops
This probably won't apply to anyone reading this blog, but if you require a pot of coffee before you are coherent in the morning, never dye t-shirts before you've had said required pot of coffee. I grabbed the wrong red this morning. I noticed it was mixing "strange" for that color since the dye powder floated to the top of the water instead of sinking, but didn't put two and two together. It wasn't until I added the soda ash solution and didn't see the normal color change that I realized I had the wrong red and by then it was too late. Argh. Instead of Orange/Yellow/Red I ended up with Red/Red/Red. Oh well, I'll just overdye with black since Rob has a saying, "Red and Black; the colors of the emotionally disturbed." In that case, the red/black combo ought to be a best seller ;->

New Shoes
Prior to Wednesday, I had a choice of three pairs of shoes to wear during my walks with Rob. I have one pair of not-so-sensible pumps (they make my feet hurt), a two year old pair of Birkenstock sandals and a pair of five year old Doc Martin boots that have the heels worn down so much that they make my back hurt. Not the best choices for a three to four mile walk, but money is tight and I figured I would have to wait until next payday to spring for a pair of tennis shoes. All the same, I decided to practice the "ask and ye shall receive" routine and request some new shoes from the universe hoping this would ensure that there really would be enough money left over after next payday to buy some shoes. Well, the universe provided sooner than expected when I opened and phone bill and discovered I didn't have to pay because I had a credit. Woo-hoo! I headed out to Kohl's since I've never been in Kohl's when they didn't have at least some shoes on sale. While I was there I discovered that Kohl's categorizes their shoes with labels like "Walking", "Cross-Training" and "Running". This was very helpful because I wanted a "Walking" shoe, but I really got a good laugh over the category of "Fashion Athletic". "Casual Athletic" I can almost understand since it brings to mind games of croquet, but "Fashion Athletic"? What, do we have a bevy of fashion models in town needing tennis shoes for the runway?

I am definately ready for a walk tonight
I've spent too much time on the computer today turning my frustration into shoulder knots and a walk should work those out for me. I started the day by signing up for a bCentral ecommerce site which I'm not very happy with at the moment. I'm glad the first 30 days are free because once I got to using it, well... I'm not so impressed. I could have hand coded a ecommerce site faster than I can do it using their wizard stuff, but my mom needs to be able to use this so I figured I'd give it a try. I haven't decided to cancel it yet since it's only been one day and there's no need to rush to judgement. I'm definately not ready to show my mom how to use it so she can add her paintings. Maybe next week.

I also spent time over at e-Bay reading another set of rules and how to information. I did manage to get some items listed for sale, but I think it takes longer to take the pictures, edit the pictures and post a sale item than it does to make the shirts. Maybe it's just the learning curve. And how was I supposed to come up with any snappy product descriptions after all that dry reading? Ah well, I suppose any kind of listing better than nothing since these t-shirts aren't going to sell themselves by sitting in the storage room. Oh, and if you're curious... My Stuff on Ebay

Unexpected Blog Hiatus
Ever have those days where you wonder where the time went? I've had a week of those. I stopped doing my usual amount of "computer time" in the mornings and have only just done email with my coffee. The idea was that I could spend my evenings reading blogs and maybe compose a post or two now that it's getting dark earlier, but it hasn't exactly worked out that way. Some of this is due to the fall-like weather we are experiencing. The temps have been just perfect for working in the yard during the day and between the yardwork and walking with Rob three nights a week, I've been hitting the bed by nine or ten o'clock at night. A week or so ago, I never went to bed before two in the morning and my concept of having "lots of time at night to do things" definitely needs to an adjustment. All of a sudden I've lost about five hours out of my day, but I'm think this is a good thing. It's been well over five years and maybe longer since I regularly got eight hours of sleep at night. Not having a job didn't change my habits, but all this recent exercise has definitely changed things. And I think it's a change for the better.

IT'S THE "C" MATCH DUDE....
Remember the old WWF on the usa network?Wrestling at it's finest.Fixed...but fun to watch...You could tell what was happening by the moves they made,you could tell who was gonna win...they had a formula...what we broke down via the alphabet.
I'm talkin' speed addled mid to late 80's viewing...it's 3 am and I'm one line from a heart attack can't sleep wrestling excitement.
Which brings me to the americans who were killed in the Gaza Strip ... It's the C match,you know...you weren't expecting it RIGHT THEN but you knew it was gonna happen and you knew it was gonna cause an outrage...just like when hacksaw jim duggan nailed rockin' roddy piper with a folding chair and mean gene okerland wigged out on the future gov. of minnesota-Jesse "the fucktard" ventura- like it was a total surprise.
Only it wasn't. And you KNEW it wasn't...but you bought into it anyway because hey...it's the WWF...full of surprises.
I'm not surprised some americans got killed in the Gaza and you should'nt be either...it was bound to happen.They should'nt have been there in the first place...but it's that old C match mentality coming back to haunt us...what the fuck are ANY americans doing over in that shithole of a place unless they are assassins working for the CIA???But they are there - just like the undertaker was lurking in the stands during the ultimate warrior-hulk hogan death match...it's a fucking set up.
Just like the son of osama being in Iran is a set up.
Just like the ever escalating violence in Iraq is a set up.
Just like the re-emergence of the taliban in Afghanistan is a set up.
These things may/are really be happening...but we're being set up.
Just like WWF wrestling...to root for the underdog no matter how despicable he or they may be...the underdog in this case is george bush's america...don't be fooled...change the channel america...watch something worthy of your time.
If they don't get the ratings they'll be forced to change...just like the WWF...well maybe we can skip the embarrassing bits...no...we have to suffer through them.
Time for the D match I think.......

WHO SAY'S AN OLD DOG CAN'T LEARN NEW...UH...LESSONS-YEAH THAT'S IT
I learned an important lesson about myself this weekend...don't gamble with expectations.
The first time I played cards I had no expectations and 25 bucks...I walked away a winner and had a great time. This time however,was different. The company was the same...that good old feeling of good old friends.The food was the same...great as usual.
What was different? Me.My attitude...I came into this game thinking...no...believing I was gonna turn my 25 into finishing my tattoo or maybe a trip to the next gun show without impinging on the monthly budget...to quote Dennis Hopper in apocalypse now, "WRONG".
So when my 25 was gone,did I push away from the table, having had my fun?No,I dug deeper,by god...I could recoup my losses and pull ahead...Trains in the station baby!look out!Papa needs a new layer of ink!
What an idiot.
Was I angry I lost? No...this was an IMMEDIATE epiphany...I had set myself up for this and applied a strategy approaching greed and it bit me on the ass.
This was not vegas....
Thank god.
Next time, I'll leave my game face at home and play like the novice I am,for fun.

A SINGLE DAY OF HORROR...
I see headline after headline justifying our invasion of Iraq and the importance of preventing "the terrorists" from acquiring wmd's and blowing the shit out of the good ol' usa.
Hasn't happened yet...and I'd venture to guess nothing remotely close to what Cheney calls a single day of horror will.
This war on terror is playing out to be this generations Viet Nam. With some important exceptions: It's about oil and big money, backed by a corrupt administration headed up by an idiot...Ok..so oil is an exception.
As the american people continue to slowly wake up to what's really going on the war will lose more and more support.
The administration will continue to launch new PR attempts to legitimize it, each one more ridiculous than the last,and when you line them up and compare them they will be rift with lies and contradiction.
It's painfully obvious the players involved in this first wave of propaganda are completely full of shit...Bush,Cheney,Powell...the whole bunch. If they aren't already trying to figure a way out this mess...they need to start-yesterday.
They're trying to scare us...I don't know about you,but for me, it's not working. I'm not scared of the terrorists. They have enough sense to know that if they come into this country and attack us in a conventional sense our military will be the least of their concerns...our citizenry would kill their ass in a hurry. We have the firepower to do this.
I have an open invitation to any would be terrorist to fuck with me and mine and see what happens. This limits the possibilities to attacking our interests abroad or another 9-11 type attack. They don't have the means or the wearwithall to hit us from afar with a nuke...they should know that if they did the us of a would nuke the fuck out of the entire middle east, which would trigger armageddon and the end of the world for everyone...nobody wants that,not even the terrorists. To assume they would risk this in the name of Islam is naive...they're terrorists-not retarded.
Israel and Palestine have been trading punches for years over property and religion and will probably continue to do so. That's what were doing albeit on a larger scale...for us it's property (oil) for them it's religion.
I'll tell you what scares me...what's going on here at home.The slow(?) erosion of our rights,how the middle class is getting a first class rogering and how our neighbors are beginning to hate us. We're heading down the road to isolation in the international community and the current administration is driving our economy into the ground,killing us really...if you think things are bad now,just wait...it gets worse,Bush and his minions will see to that...the writing's on the wall and apparently the majority of americans refuse to see it and do anything about it.
Speaking of doing something about it...let's look at the opposition to the dictator currently in power....We have nine democratic "hopefuls" gunning for his job...if you eliminate the ridiculous ( Sharpton, Kucinich, Mosely,Lieberman and those other two)
that leaves Dean , Kerry and Clark...Thats two too many.The democrats shouldn't be wasting time fighting among themselves to pick the candidate to go up against the mongoloid in chief...they need to be united and focused with one candidate.But which one?
Dean? Kerry? Clark? It's hard to tell because they're all spending way too much time throwing rocks at Bush...we already know Bush is an asshole who doesn't have a clue.Let's start hearing about what YOU'RE gonna do for us that's gonna turn this country around...the bush bashing is so loud we can't hear that part of the argument.
When are we going to address in some meaningful way the coup the republicans are staging...in Texas,in California,in Florida? They're attempting to fix the election before our very eyes and we do nothing.
I'm afraid it will soon be too late to do anything about any of it.
It's groundhog day in america...the same shit over and over again...a single day of horror on replay...someone needs to step up and hit the eject button.
I realize this is rambling...but I'm so overwhelmed with the bullshit raining down on us it's the best I can do.
Maybe a simpler way of putting this is: man! are we fucked or what???

Weight loss
I've lost 44 pounds over the last year or so, but ask anyone that knows me, including Rob, and they'll tell you I don't look any different. I look the same and wear the same jeans at 196 pounds as I did at 240 pounds (and no, they do not have an elastic waist.) This is rather frustrating. It doesn't help when I see those infomercials where the women claim they lost 10 pounds and one dress size. What, are they a size four and have bones the size of matchsticks? My jeans do fit a bit looser now, but there's no hope of getting into the next size down. Last night Rob and I started our walking program where we plan to walk an hour every night, but I did the math on the calories burned and that's at best only an extra pound a week in weight loss. However, since I'm only losing one pound a week now, it will, at least, double the speed of things. And who knows, maybe I'm only 10 more pounds away from getting into those size 16 jeans. I hope so, because I'm about ready to give up if I don't see some visible results beyond the dial on the scale.

LET'S TALK ABOUT P...M...SSSSSSSS
I have intimate experience with PMS...I have learned to fear it,for awhile, the mere mention of it would cause me to clench up and break out in a sweat.
I also learned something about my partners in the past who suffered from...no...took advantage of the fact they went completely psycho once evey 28 days or so and made sure I was the target of every possible pathological delusion/cruelty under the sun.
They were fucked up to begin with.
There was a difference between them and my beloved Ann...In past relationships a lack of butter was tantamount to the grossest infidelity...something I heard about for days,at a volume normally reserved for rage and somehow connected to that root thing that made me unacceptable, a perpetual "fixer-upper" somehow deserving of abuse because after all,there is NO BUTTER and I should know that the stash of butter is my responsibility alone...after all, I am the provider.
I get to READ about Ann's PMS rather than experience it...this is a woman who knows what's her shit and deals with it accordingly, worthy of support for a very real malady.
And her lack of taking it out on me affords me the opportunity to be supportive instead of defensive, loving instead of fearful...I am not cowed by the PMS,rather, I am an agent of relief...happily so.
In closing,let me share a story...no,2 stories about the horror...the HORROR of dealing with women not in control....
I had made plans to visit a friend for the purpose of , well, drinking mostly but we were planning a art show at his house as well...when it was set up my then girlfriend was cool with it...when I attempted to leave the house a few days later,suddenly I couldn't go..."we had to talk".About what I never learned,but it was important.This quickly escalated to her trying to push me down the stairs, to her finally jumping on the trunk of my car as I backed out of the driveway and riding down to the stop sign at the end of our street. The crisis finally ended when she got in the car and asked where we were going.When I said to the fucking state hospital to get your ass committed...poof! end of crisis and she walked back to the house.When I got home there were tearful apologies and hugs...then 5 minutes later my habit of leaving socks under the coffee table was right up there with the batan death march and the holocaust all rolled into one. I soon extricated myself from this relationship.
A few years before in another relationship, I had returned from my annual trip to colorado with the same friend...as we were dividing up the gear in my living room, she cruised through the room,pointed at the AX on the floor and announced "I'd put that away if I was you" before disappearing into her office sporting crazy ass hair and a purple velour floor length robe that added to the david lynch feel of the moment.My friend decided he would get his gear later and left...I did not sleep well that night.
So...my dearest Ann, if PMS has shined it's demonic light on you after all these years and the most you do is write about it...god bless you. I am fortunate.

So THAT'S what it feels like
I woke up this morning in a foul mood. I thought I had reached the maximum level of angry, evil bitch when I had that sinus infection, but I was wrong. I had been disturbed from an interesting dream where I was talking to Professor Snape when the alarm went off, but this happens every morning (the alarm that is, not a dream about the Harry Potter books.) The dogs stirred and bounced around on the bed when Rob got up, but this also happens every morning. Theo barked for five minutes at the "strange man in the shower" (actually Rob) and why Theo can see Rob through the bathroom window from the bed is a story for another day. But again, this happens every morning and annoying as all of that is, it has never propelled me to the level of rage that I felt today. I threw pillows at the dogs and screamed obscenities at them as I got out of bed and got dressed. I stomped into the kitchen to make coffee and bit my tongue so I wouldn't tear Rob a new asshole because he forgot to take out the trash last night and where the fsck was I going to put the old coffee grinds when the trashcan was full and overflowing? The dogs had long since fled to the backyard, but Rob asked me what was wrong and I had enough sense to just mumble something about not getting enough sleep. Rob shrugged his shoulders and hurried off to work much to my relief because my tongue was getting pretty sore from being clamped down between my teeth. I sat down at the computer with my coffee and pondered this strange feeling. Was it some sort of backlash from being depressed? "Ah, who the fsck cares; think I'll have some toast." Instead, I throw small temper tantrum when no butter is found in the fridge. Never mind that I don't usually butter my toast. Instead I scream, "Why the fsck is there NO BUTTER?" which sends the dogs running for the backyard again and the thought crossed my mind that Rob is a mean and evil person for using the last of the butter and not writing it on the grocery list. I stomp back to my computer to read email and make a supreme effort to become interested in the latest posts to the mailing lists. Later as I'm rereading an email for the fourth time, Rob calls me and the best I can do is just be rude. I decide I must be REALLY short on sleep and hungry so I start another pot of coffee and make the damned toast and spread jam on it with no butter. Just like I always have my toast and I pause to wonder why all of a sudden today I want butter? "Ah, who the fsck cares; just eat the toast and start the damned laundry!" Later on in the day, Rob checks in again and suggests that maybe I have PMS. I consider that for a moment and decide that he must be right even though PMS for me is almost always a migraine and not a temper tantrum. But my behavior sure does remind me of the other women I've known over the years who would get like this with PMS... yes, yes, it fits. And so I drive to the gas station/food market and purchase a pint of chocolate malt ice cream with fudge swirls and chocolate covered almonds because that's what those women used to do. And you know what? It worked!

I hope this isn't something I have to deal with on a monthly basis from now on, but if it means the migraines are gone... well, I might trade that for some craziness and maybe I'll learn to like ice cream and chocolate (normally, I don't eat either of them.)

LAW AND ORDER
I think a little background is needed before I launch....
My Mom was diagnosed with cancer in '89...my Dad stroked out in '90 and after a 3 month coma,woke up back at shepperds air force base circa 1968. He ended up at the VA nursing care center in Temple Tx.,an hour from our home town.Until her death in '92,I was it for her. She did'nt drive...I was her driver,to every consult, chemo,etc. and we made the trip to temple 2 to 3 times a week to visit Dad...I was glad to do it...I loved my parents,it was part of being thier child...they raised me,I helped them.
They had a "mom and pop will" (each had a will leaving everything to each other and then to me) , no need to probate until my Dad died in '99.I was told I had 5 years after his death to probate...I was told wrong. Four and 1/2 years later...missed it by THAT much...it was four not five.Curse that overpaid cokehead attorney to an eternity in appellate court.
So...if you miss the date, what do you do? Well you apply for title to the deed...in essence,sue your sibling(s) for the estate that was left to you in the first fucking place.
Let me qualify estate by saying it's an old falling down house I've lived in since my Mom died...we're not talking big bucks here.
So I did...my sister,who had no interest in the house and got half the life insurance money because I thought it was the right thing to do...signed an affadavit saying she had no interest in the house (much to the surprise of my attorney) ,papers were filed and then....
and then....
The court assigned an attorney to represent the estate...to make sure I am who I say I am,my sister wasn't coerced into signing the affadavit and my parents are indeed in the house of the lord, or at the very least,in the ground...fine,I can live with that.
But then...
The state charges me TWO filing fees because there are TWO wills...which are identical,only one says mom to dad to son,one says dad to mom to son.
I'm starting to get annoyed.
Then...
The court appointed attorney has a request...he wants a copy of: My parents marriage license,my birth certificate,a death certificate for each parent AND an obituary for each parent (why in the FUCK do you need this when you have 2 certified death certificates????!). Fortunately, I have all this stuff in one location (I'm sentimental that way) and submit...I'm moving beyond annoyed.
Then...
He wants the names and addresses of two "disinterested witnesses" who can testify that: I am who I am (despite having my birth certificate),That my parents are indeed dead (despite having death certificates AND obituaries) and we have to run ad's in the paper to the tune of 400.00 ...one for each will...something you do when you PROBATE a will...which I will remind you,we are not doing because SOME FUCKING ATTORNEY told me I had FIVE years instead of FOUR.
I am beside myself with disgust...and again I ask the question I have asked many times here in different contexts...What the fuck is wrong with us??!!
My parents loved me,I loved them,they wanted me to have this house...I took care of my sister because I love her and my parents instilled in me the desire to what is right.
And what is the reality?I've got the state of texas bending me over because they can and a court appointed attorney who I never met or spoke with on the phone..nay!Nary a fucking email introduction, charging me 500.00 to prove I'm who I say I am and my parents aren't buried alive in some box somewhere so I can steal this house that isn't worth the dirt it sits on. It' value lies in the spirit of family.
Law and Order indeed.
I think we've been cheated.
I will ride this out, and when it's done I will put it behind me. Hopefully I will still have an address and not an underpass to call home.

October
October is my favorite month of the year. The temperature is usually just about right and I get to keep all the windows and doors open day and night (we have burglar bars and three house dogs so break-ins are not a big worry.) The sky turns a beautiful blue color and the sunshine takes on a particular golden glow right before sunset. Even the moon has it's own special look during this month. My favorite seasonal beer appears in stores on sale (Spaten Oktoberfest) and the month ends with Halloween, my favorite holiday of the year. We haven't celebrated Halloween in quite a while, but we used to throw a big neighborhood party every year where our band and a few others from the area would play on our stage deck in the backyard and everyone would dress in silly costumes. It was so much fun, but the neighborhood changed and we can't get away with such shenanigans anymore. We've been invaded by yuppies and hit with a notice to comply for just about every ordinance on the books. I had to sell my '67 Chevelle because we didn't have a garage and having it sitting under a car cover under the carport wasn't okay. I had to get it running, tagged and inspected or else they would tow it off. I managed to find a buyer, but I'm not sure all the other "fixer-uppers" around here had as much luck. And just today, I received my "second notice" from the city because one of our trees had the nerve to grow it's branches out over the street and we haven't cut it back yet. I was hoping they'd forget about it, but I guess I'll be standing on a ladder in the middle of the street with a saw because I don't have the money for the $500 fine. I wonder if I can sue the city when some yuppie runs me down in their Expedition? I think this year I need to bring back a bit of that old bohemian flavor of this neighborhood for Halloween. Throwing a party in the old style is out since the cops will just come and shut us down, but I'm thinking a front yard full of tacky homemade Halloween decorations might be in order. Of course, there's probably a city ordinance against that too.

Better Days
Well, I had a nice pity party that lasted about three days. Family and friends were supportive and came up with a few ideas to improve things. I've been too housebound without my car ((public transportation in Austin sucks) so that was step one. I've got legal wheels again and strict orders to get my ass out of the house at least three times a week. I peeled myself away from the computer for a few days and reread some of my favorite books. I had a long talk with my mom about what she will do if/when dad dies and discovered that she has a really good plan. Rob had the idea that if I looked better I might feel better and he was right so I'm no longer sporting the aging gray-haired hippy look and I'm back to being a redhead. I've been prodded into actually socializing IN PERSON with some friends instead of just chatting by email or phone. I've been reminded that there are nine million other people out of work in this country and my jobless state is not because I'm just a fuckup and a loser. I also gathered up enough guts to ask my parents for a $1400 loan so we could pay off the house and they said "of course". I mailed that check off today. I don't feel great yet, but I do feel much, much better.

ME AND MY SHADOW
A couple of weeks ago this stray dog started circling our shop...a black dog.If anyone has any question about my affinity to peros negros , let this picture of my tres peros negros put it to rest...

Anyway...this dog started coming around and had no problem with the women , but anytime a man came near she would run away,tail between her legs,ears back.
Being a black dog I had no choice...I had to win her over.
I tempted her with food...leftover chicken fajita and pork tamales...laying a hansel and gretel trail that got shorter and shorter until she was right in front of me,snatching up the food and darting away...only to come back for more.
Finally, there was a sniff of the hand and a reluctant introduction.
By the end of the day she was my buddy...she made friends with Jim, the warehouse manager over the next couple of days...more connections were made during the past 2 weeks and now she is the "shop dog".
I took her to my vet yesterday and got the shots and had her de-wormed...gave her a collar with tags and she is officially ours.
Jim and Travis (our delivery driver) put up a fence to make her an enclosure free from the potentially deadly trucks that frequent our locale...Travis' mom (also a lover of black dogs...she has 2) brought bedding and toys.
She now has a home...and a name...Shadow...not because she is black, but because she follows you around...like a shadow.
This dog is friendly,intelligent,agile and well, intelligent...she learns commands with ease and loves contact in a non obnoxious way...gentle hugs...whoever had her before should be ashamed...not only because they obviously abused her,but because they missed out on a chance to have a truely unique experience.
An experience we enjoy and value.
I don't know what powers brought her to us...chance or otherwise...but I'm glad.
Our three black dogs came to us under bad circumstances and I'm proud to say we have given them a life of love and comfort and security.
And because of the likemindedness of my co-workers...we have afforded the same opportunity to Shadow...a black dog...and dammit...black dogs ROCK.

CATHARSIS...A WONDERFUL THING?
I got my right leg outlined last friday...almost 3 hours...ouch.What's cool about leg tattoos is you can watch the process.You can witness the transformation of plain old skin to work of art.It was cool, but it hurt like hell...especially behind the knee.But it's there...a giant squid writhing on the waves just below my knee descending down to a sea floor replete with coral,starfish,urchins and anenomes at my ankle.Color to go in in a month or so...Catharsis.
One of my oldest,dearest friends called the other night...his little brother was dead...his LITTLE brother...I drove to the city of West,Tx. for the funeral...funeral home,cemetary and church where on a 4 or so mile line on the same road...county road 1858...1-2-3...an amazing economy of death,burial and "food and fellowship" at the Tokio baptist church. It was good to see my friend and other people I had'nt seen in at least 10 years...not the greatest of circumstances. But it was good to see them and connect, I should qualify that he is probably my dearest old friend and despite the circumstance it was good to connect with my roots...hugging him and spending time with "food and fellowship" reminded me of how important he was,how important old friendships are.I don't see him often but he is an important part of my life, a connection to what was and what will be. I was not close to his brother but I knew him and I knew how much he meant to my friend...I had to be there...for them both.And I was...and proud to be there as a living vestige of time and the meaning of friendship...Cathartic.
In a way.
The route to West was the same route I took with my Mom to Temple, Texas , home of the veterans administration's nursing care unit where my father went after his stroke in 1990...2 or 3 times a week I drove my mom to see him...a vegetable really...he knew who we were but could not communicate beyond a smile and the look in his eyes.
Everytime I drove there I died a little bit, and when my mom died in '92 and my dad fell deeper into zuchinniville, I slacked to once or twice a month.
When he died in '99, I was resolute in not ever going down that road again...but I did,for my friend.The drive was a trip down memory lane...as I drove along I remembered things...conversations with my mom...Cathartic...in a way.
And I tried to put it together in my mind with the fact that we are all growing older and with that age we come closer to the end...to closure.
And when it's all said and done will we have done all the things we aspired to do?Will our lives have had meaning? Will our choices in life fulfill our possibilities? Will it be Cathartic?
Somehow I don't think so.

I think my swing is broken
Every morning I wake up and find that things still suck (no job, no money, IRS woes, sick Dad, etc.), but I managed to tweak myself into a decent mood and get through the day without too much trouble. It's been a real struggle to do that this last month (I'm not counting the week I was sick) and today I simply can not get out of my funk. Maybe it's just PMS, but I wonder if it's time to reach for the Prozac? Then again, I might just be overdue for a good pity party.

Back in the swing of things (I hope)
Sorry to be gone so long, but after having a wonderful birthday (that came complete with my dad going home from the hospital) and a busy computer-fix-install-reconfigure-stuff the next day, I came down with the sinus infection from hell. I spent many days and nights without much sleep due to the headache and no, I didn't bother going to the doctor. If I had a job or even an interview scheduled, I would have probably gone to the doctor because I wasn't fit to partake in any human interactions. Unless the interview was for a BOFH (Bastard Operator from Hell), I would have definately not made a favorable impression and I had the sense to stay away from the blog to prevent others from having to read the incoherant rants running through my head. I had the luxury (?) of being stuck at home alone for most of the time so I got to skip the doctor's antibiotic and other prescriptions routine and just get better on my own. It took a while, but today I feel like a normal human being again instead of some evil, short-tempered villian from a comic book.

HALF WAY THERE...
Well,I got my left leg finished...it's amazing how we heal.Tattoos peel like a sunburn and I'm already peeling...testament to my metabolism or Hez' technique...I suspect it's a little of both.
We didn't get past drawing on the right leg...not wanting to be impulsive we opted to wait until today...so he could draw something up beyond a thumbnail...
I get a call this morning...he is sick...reschedule for this friday...DAMMIT!
So...I gotta talk about something else.
There's a link to your right to full metal jackass...It's my attempt to make sense out of the majority of my adult life. Career wise anyway. I guess I picked the wrong one.
I've tried to tell this story several times witrhout success...everytime I try to tell it I have a buzz and do stupid shit like start a new blog.
Currently, I'm a parts guy at a pool and spa company...I started out as a pool cleaner,moved into repair,left for awhile and came back as the counter guy...I like my job.It pays well and I can go home at the end of the day without carrying the souls and secrets of people who met me under less than pristine circumstances..or even worse, (punctuation is NOT my strength) psychopathic circumstances.
So...now I'm a regular worker doing a regular job...no worries,right?
I feel like I carry the weight of the world with me no problem...the people I deal with now are just as damaged as the people I used to deal with...only they don't know it and I can't put them into a security room until they are ready to deal with it.I just watch and record...for no one in particular.
Our world as it grinds to a hault...grinding hault.
Because of the world as I experienced it...I'm a mess.

I CAN HARDLY WAIT...
The last time I got tattooed was way back in January...Andreas was visiting from toronto and I bought my son a tat for his 18th birthday and had to get one to make it a truly father and son experience.(I had warned my son if he got tattooed before his 18th birthday I would remove it myself by any means necessary and he actually bought it!So how could I say no...he drew it himself,a cheshire cat image from alice in wonderland...very cool...Andrea's did him right ...plus it was fun to watch my son make the bitch face...which he did ,alot.)
Still he was a trooper,so I got one in his honor and to let him monitor me for the bitch face,which I made once...and he saw it...still,it was a bonding experience I will never forget.(The bitch face is when the machine hits a tender area and you wince...like a bitch) For the record,I got a sailor jerry style horseshoe with a 13 in the center made of bones....
So...tomorrow I get tattooed by my buddy Hez...I'm finally finishing the leg sleeve on my left leg,45 minutes tops...and then I'm sleeving out my right leg with stars...both from the knee down.
I remember when I first got ink in 82...just one I said...then it was two...then three...always bigger than before...to now,when people ask how many I have the answer is "just one big one"...I probably have 2/3's of my body covered .
Why?
Do I like the attention? No.
Am I a rebel? No.
Can I blame it on my upbringing? Yes.
My Father was heavily tattooed...from the military during WW2,Korea and Viet Nam.
Can I blame it on culture? Yes.
Austin was a punk hotbed in the 80's and tattooing was a hallmark of being in the scene. I was in the scene.
Do I blame it on these things? No.
Well,maybe the Dad part.I'm colored by choice,plain and simple.
Plus...when I die,Ann can have me stretched and framed for immortality...cool.
So...tomorrow I cover up some more skin...the buzz of the machine...the realization of art.The creation of something that won't go away,something that is unequivocally mine.
I love it.

NUTRITIONAL FACTS...
About a month ago I was instructed by my doctor to return to my ideal weight, which calculated out to 2 pounds a week through the month of november.
I eliminated red meat,fried foods and all of the old stand by snacks...no coke either.
At this point I have lost 10 of the pounds I need to achieve my goal.
I started to ride a bike too,but it was too hot and I am waiting for decent temps to begin this part of the plan. I haven't always been an active guy,but in the past I was a 3 time a week at the local health club...health clubs are different than they were 20 years ago,so I opted for the bike/swim route.
I have limited my beer consumption...some who know me would say that I have been a poster child for substance abuse....to this I say...yeah,I like to party.To my surprise, this aspect of my diet has been easy,in fact,it's all been easy.
But one sinister aspect has presented itself...I am now a card carrying member of the compendium of nutritional facts...available on food labels everywhere in your local grocery.
I never looked at this shit before...never gave it a second thought,but now my trips to the grocery are a protracted, brow furrowing field study into which foods will kill you and which foods won't. I almost enjoy it, but to admit that I do would somehow tarnish me...imagine that,Rob...you're a label freak.
The payoff for all of this is a longer, healthier life...but I'm not focused on that.
I'm focusing on that day in late november when I can look in the mirror and say "This is why you've been doing this...your not 'husky' anymore."Call me shallow, but being thinner is important...the health benefits are a welcome, secondary benefit.
Next on the list is to quit smoking...but that's a later battle for say, my next new years resolution.
The joy's of middle age after a misspent youth...if there is an ode for you it was written by the Cure, probably in 1982.

AND YOU'RE NO...WAIT... YES! YOU ARE BARNEY RUBBLE.
You know who I mean...that Dean character that's running on the dem ticket against Georgie girl. I think he bears a striking resembelance to ol' Barn...friend and foil of Fred Clinto...I mean Flintstone.Let's face it...the whole gaggle of democratic candidates look like they just walked off the short bus for a field trip at Pioneer farms.
What are we gonna do?We cannot allow Dubya to usurp another term in the whitehouse, but alas, our choices for a legitimate candidate are severely limited.
I have an idea...why don't candidates from both parties start telling the truth?
NO ONE is telling the truth...it's all marketing and script writing and image building (and on the seedier side, if there is one, payoffs and tax breaks and favors).But it's all corrupt in degrees in the end...everyone of them corrupt leaving the voter to choose the less corrupt on a hope and a prayer...that thier particular corruption is more akin to the america the voter wants...or the other (I believe) more frequent choice is to just say fuck it...it's all a game and no matter what I say,do,or vote the most corrupt will prevail.So what's the point...I know the polls are open till 7, but dammit I have beer to drink.
Take Texas for example.
The gub'ner,pRick Perry(hair,outfits) has called a THIRD special session for the sole purpose of redistricting Texas to give the republicans a majority...with the benefit of giving bunnypants the electoral votes in the next primary.That's the agenda,the only agenda.There is nothing fair and right about this...it's the equivilent of one crack slingin' crew kicking ass on a corner until it belongs to them...only in this case there is no payback...we just roll over in the end.
Similar kinds of criminal behavior are occuring in states across the country under the guise of due process,the gub'ment,the "will" of the people...which people?
RICH people. All across america there is a kind of ethnic cleansing leaking into the "american way".It's these rich people who don't give a shit about the middle class...or poor people...if they have thier way there will be a two class, one party majority in this country...a majority bought off by the corrupt leaders buying thier way into power through lies, manipulation and malfeasance on a level unpresidented in the memory of my lifetime. They only care about themselves.
So...what do we do?GET OUT AND VOTE...even if it is a Barney Rubble,it's better than what we've got right now...You know, I heard Hitler had a bad temper...only people didn't snap to it in time.
Take a look around.

Just call me Cinderella
One moment I'm scrubbing the walls and the next thing I know there's a beep from my Nextel phone (the modern fairy godmother) informing me that my Prince Charming will be here in an hour or so to whisk me away for an afternoon of adult beverages and scintillating conversation at the place of my choosing. Dinner to follow if I wish and Prince Charming knows this chain of events is Cinderella's favorite thing to do, smart man that he is. Unfortunately he seems to have forgotten that the modern fairy godmother doesn't provide a handy change of clothes. My clothes were in the dresser we got rid of and are now in a box somewhere pending reassembly of the bedroom. This might be Austin, but I seriously doubt the "lounge pants" and old T-Shirts that I put aside to wear during this home improvement venture would garner me any appreciative looks. However, all is not lost because Cinderella happens to wear the exact same size jeans and T-Shirts as Prince Charming whose dresser is still intact and accessible so while she may not be wearing a ball gown, she will at least be wearing something other than pajamas.

Wax On, Wax Off.
Much to my surprise, the wall paper removal goo is working. My arms, however, no longer want to make the "Wax On, Wax Off" motions required to remove the loosened wall paper paste from the wall with a sponge. Nor has this meditative experience answered the question of what to do with the next half of my life. Instead, it has caused me to think that maybe I should not have let my ex-husband keep everything but my clothes and some books because the car polisher would have come in real handy right now. I wonder if I can duct-tape the sponge to a drill?

Turning Point
Once upon a time I was bored and played around with various longevity tests and statistics and math involving age of relatives, expected future life expectancy increases and so forth and decided that my 42nd birthday would be the half-way point of my life. Age 42 was a long way off at the time that I did this, but the idea of that age as the mid-point stuck in my mind. Well, I'll have to change the question of "What to do with the rest of my life?" that I've been asking myself since I was laid-off from my job last year to "What to do with the second half of my life?" since today is my 42nd birthday. Unfortunately I didn't wake up with the answer this morning. Wouldn't that have been a nice birthday present?

Exhausted
Today has been home improvement day. As in cart all the furniture out of the bedroom, go to Home Depot and spend too much money on paint and other miscellaneous needs and scrub and spackle walls. The original plan was for us to just sleep on the couch and loveseat and not set up the bed until the bedroom was finished. I threw that idea out the window once I realized the bed would actually fit back in the den if we nestled it in the L formed by the couch and loveseat (and moved the coffee table.) I couldn't find a tape measure, but determined it would fit because the mattress was "fingertip to fingertip of outstretched arms plus an arm" X "my height plus arm upraised, minus a wrist and hand". Am I the only one that measure things this way when one can't find a tape measure? Rob: "What are you doing laying on the floor?" Ann: "I'm measuring to see if the bed will fit." Rob looks at Ann likes she's crazy. But hey, it worked and the bed is all set up back there and ready for my tired body. I'm off now to go take a shower and experience what I hope will be a wonderful night's sleep. I'm going to need one of those because tomorrow I have to tackle cleaning the wall covered in 20 year old wallpaper paste that REFUSES to come off even with a super strong solution of TSP. I'm hoping the wall paper removal gel I ran out and bought works better. If not, I have a wall-paper steamer I can drag out and try since I'm pretty sure steam will clean anything (but steam and warm humid days don't mix very well so I'll save that as a last resort.)

Patriotism and Citizenship
This post from Jim at Snooze Button Dreams really struck a nerve. During WWII, some of my family refused to renounce Germany when the US government demanded that they do so. They didn't approve of Hitler at all, but to renounce the Motherland completely was unthinkable, US citizenship or not. That caused some real problems for them, but despite that they remained fiercely patriotic to America and willingly sent their sons off to war. Their sons (my father included) willingly went forth. I find it very strange that a country built on immigrants is so intolerant, then and now, of the immigrant's point of view. Even I, two generations removed from Germany, still feel a strong emotional tie to that Motherland. Maybe it's a cultural thing and while I don't have a Späten to offer as a toast, I have something a bit closer than Budweiser - a Shiner Bock. So here's to Germany with all it's flaws, past and present, because that's land of my ancestors. (And for those of you without a clue, it's about the land and family, NOT whatever government happens to be in power at any point in time.)

Health Insurance around the World
I'm finally catching up with my blog reading, including my own comments, and I'd like to thank Blue Witch for her comment about the lack of communication by medical staff. I have been trying in vain to reply to this all day with no luck. Perhaps Enetation is having another server fit or it's Blogspot's problem or my ISP's DNS server is feeling crabby - you just never know when so many things are out of your control. I really miss running this blog on my own server and network. *thinks about the maintenance that was involved and recants* Anyway, I got to wondering if I had ever heard anyone say they were satisfied with the healthcare plan provided by their country. Obviously this doesn't apply to US residents, but I used to be a Benefits Coordinator and one of my responsibilities was to help the new employees sign up for the company health insurance. A good part of the civilized world has automatic health coverage and some of these people chose to come the to US and work for the company that was my employer. Some of them were more than happy to sign up for the company health plan, but there were a few exceptions. No one from Finland ever wanted any part of our benefits. The same with anyone from the Netherlands. The Germans were usually on the fence and wanted to take the information home for further review. Without fail, anyone from the UK, Canada or France signed up on the spot. I must admit it gave me a bit of a negative view on socialized medicine, but that was many years ago. The deductible on that health plan was $250/year. The deductible on my current health plan provided my my husband's employer is $5000/year. I have a feeling things would be very different if I were a Benefits Coordinator today.

The suspected major complication
I held off on posting this because I thought more information might come to light on the status of my dad. But alas, all I know at this point is that they might have to do more surgery and he might be there for at least another week. Dad's somewhat medicated so he's not the best source of information. Mom was just too exhausted for me to ask her for details she probably didn't know when she called tonight for help on installing her new "Learn to speak Spanish" program. In my family, reaching for the learning material is a definate sign of emotional overload and all four of us (mom, dad, brother, and myself) do this. I've never thought about it before, but I wonder if any other family behaves this way. Does anyone else find a sudden desire to learn Spanish or how to be a Linux network adminstrator in the midst of a crisis? I've been itching for a book on Cisco certifications myself. Interesting...

A little less hippy, a little more middle aged
We finally did it. We went out and bought our first brand new American Surburbanite bed. You know, the kind with the spring coiled orthopedic mattress, box springs and metal frame. The kind that costs four times what I've ever paid for a bed since I've always bought waterbeds or futons. It's also a king size instead of a queen (better to fit two large adults and the three dogs who will, no doubt, join us on the bed this winter.) That meant a trip to Target for new cheap sheets. There's no point in buying expensive sheets when you have three dogs since expensive sheets wear out just as fast as cheap sheets given the number of washings involved. We picked up our traditional black (called "charcoal" this year) and went searching for a new comforter only to find there was no king size in black...er, charcoal. That's when we found the leopard print set. I decided that was perfect to offset the surburbanite vibe that the new bed would impart upon the room. And if it ends up reminding me of 70's porn movies, so much the better ;-)

Thoughts about 9-11
Essay over at Stupid Angry Canajun reminds me that I made no mention of the events of 9-11-2001. I've been a little preoccupied and haven't had the chance to sit down and really think about how I feel in regards to this subject, but I'll give it a try.

It was a tragic event made even more tragic by what has transpired in the aftermath. I fear that our government has thrown the baby out with the bathwater. I simply cannot understand why they would respond to an attack by foreign fanatics against freedom and liberty with their THEIR OWN attack against freedom and liberty. Each anniversary brings more rhetoric and more requests for "Big Brother"style legislation. It boggles my brain and I feel it does a great injustice to those who died on that day and to those who have subsequently perished in the "war against terror". Consider the thought that the terrorists' objectives were to damage the freedoms of Americans and wreck economic havoc. This may or may not have been their actual objective, but I've certainly heard that stated often enough by various politicians. And from what I can see this has certainly come to pass, but it wasn't the terrorists who accomplished these things. It was those very same politicians. Irony is definitely not dead.

Goodbye to the Hot Tub
Today we say goodbye to the used hot tub we bought several years ago. We never hooked it up because we discovered that we only had a 100 amp drop to the house. The hot tub needs 50 amps all by itself. A check into getting a 200 amp drop revealed that we would have to update and relocate the service entrance (which would require tearing down the carport or the patio or maybe both) AND rewire the entire house. Oops. We should have remembered that this house was built when the only major electrical appliances were a refrigerator, a washing machine, and maybe a TV. After all, we've had plenty of experience arranging the house by electrical circuit rather than any sort of interior design concept. No, the TV can't go in the logical spot for it because the 'fridge is on that circuit. No, the computer equipment can not all go in the office where it belongs, but instead must be scattered strategically around the house. Did we remember these little facts of life when the opportunity to get a "deal" on a hot tub presented itself? No, we did not and so I've had a hot tub sitting in my back yard taunting me; reminding me on a daily basis that I can be a complete idiot at times. I'm very glad to see this memento of my stupidity leave the property.

The minor complication
My dad didn't make it home today because of yet another minor complication. Only we didn't know it was a minor complication until 7:00 pm tonight. No, instead we got to wonder for 12 hours just what the hell was wrong and why they were keeping him knocked out with drugs and not letting him go home. A "nothing to worry about" sure would have been nice around, oh say, mid-morning or so, but the nurses wouldn't explain anything and so Mom spent the entire day at the hospital waiting to talk to a doctor who would tell her something. I spent eight of those hours calling her every hour and talking for 30 minutes about what ever topic I could pull out of thin air. I don't think I have ever had a politically oriented conversation with my mother in my entire life and I had at least two of those today (turns out she doesn't think President Bush is such a stand up guy either.) If I had known this was going to be a whole day ordeal that would result in a severe case of cauliflower ear then I would have spent the hour and a half it takes to get to the hospital by city bus. There's the kind of quiet, supportive silence that you can offer in person which simply doesn't work over the phone and I was forced to "chitchat" instead. I don't do "chitchat" very well and for that matter, neither does my family. A family get-together dinner is followed by long periods of silence where we are content simply just to BE with each other. If anyone has something to say then they say it, but no one makes small talk for the sake of small talk so today was a rather surreal experience. At least at the end of all that waiting it was good news. If the blood tests look okay in the morning, then he can go home. Whew.

The Friday Five
1. Is the name you have now the same name that's on your birth certificate? If not, what's changed?
Different last name because I took Rob's last name we married. My first name matches my birth certificate now, but it didn't match for the first 30 years of my life because they made a mistake and chopped the AnnMarie in half and stuck the Marie in the middle name slot and just threw the middle name of Jane out the window. My mom finally got around to correcting it when I was 33. That's why I'm known as both Ann and AnnMarie. I tend to be known as "Ann" to friends and "AnnMarie" to family and coworkers.

2. If you could change your name (first, middle and/or last), what would it be?
Right now I can't think of any other names I'd rather have, but once upon a time in grade school I wished my first name was Tina. I have no idea why. I didn't know anyone named Tina so maybe that was it.

3. Why were you named what you were? (Is there a story behind it? Who specifically was responsible for naming you?)
My first name is from a relative several generations back. Her name was Annamarie, but Mom went with AnnMarie for some reason. Maybe to make it more English rather than the original German. I have a feeling that if she had left it Annamarie, my birth certificate probably would have been correct the first time. My middle name is MaryJane after my Godmother as far as the Catholic church is concerned, but it was shortened to Jane for the birth certificate. However, Jane never made it on the birth certificate until I was 33 and shortly thereafter poor, neglected Jane got replaced with my maiden name.

4. Are there any names you really hate or love? What are they and why?
I used to hate the name Ann when I was in school, but only because I knew I was supposed to be AnnMarie. I never understood why the teachers insisted I be called Ann just because that was what was on my birth certificate. After I while I got used to it and didn't hate the name anymore.

5. Is the analysis of your name at kabalarians.com / triggur.org / astroexpert accurate? How or how isn't it?
kabalarian.com says:
Your first name of Annmarie has made you happiest when you are expressing in some creative, artistic way, and not conforming to strict routine. In a large group of comparative strangers, you are quiet and rather shy, unable to express yourself, not really wanting to become involved in conversation. On the other hand, among friends with whom you feel at ease, you are expressive, witty, and quite charming. These contrasting natures make it difficult for people to understand you and can lead to friction in your personal life. You are deep, philosophical, and refined, but your extremely sensitive nature causes you to become depressed and self-pitying over any real or imagined slight. If you are not careful, people take advantage of your generous nature. You find the beauties of nature, fine music, art, and literature--all the deeper things of life--inspiring. The reserved, sensitive side of your nature brings aloneness and friction into your life, although you crave affection and understanding.
There are things in this description that I don't like, but that doesn't mean they are not true. I'd have to say this was right on the money. Spooky.

SHE'S MY LIL' GIRL.....
That would be Irene...fortyfive pounds of bottomless pit of need & love...my main dog. My canine bizzel fo'shizzle....but that's not what I'm representin' 2-nite....
Regarding the IRS....Hey!FUCK YOU IRS....You know I'm gonna pay you, but...FUCK YOU.
There's another domestic terrorist. I sent in a return that was owein' and they say...no we owe you you and send me a refund...I say you wrong but they say we never wrong and send the check...one year later those assholes renig sayin we owe...the exact same amount we sent in in the firz place.When i challenge this they say "we neva wrong"...So what be the lie?
Who lying?Not me.
Am I bein' ethnic enough?
Prop's to my pop's Hugo...home soon scalliwag.
scalliwag???hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha:)

Another quick update
Dad still in the hospital. Another minor complication today, but he still may go home tomorrow with the hope that it resolves itself over the next couple of weeks. Rob has his new browser, but not sure if he'll have time to blog tonight. We had a friend stop by to borrow a microphone and visit a bit so dinner is going to be late and it may be bedtime for him before we are done with dinner and feeding the dogs, etc.

One of my friends, who has been on vacation, got back in town yesterday and we spent a good part of the day chatting by email and catching each other up on the latest events. So much for my idea about blog reading and news watching today, but it was very good to talk to her again. She was only gone a week or so, but I sure did miss her. It seems I have been learning a lesson this week about the importance of friends and family.

Quick update

My dad had a minor complication this morning, but he's fine now. Well, I guess being in pain and grumpy isn't exactly "fine", but health-wise, he's doing good and may get to come home in a few more days. Rob has agreed to stay off the web until I can get the Mozilla Firebird browser installed on his machine. The object tag exploit for the IE browser was the last straw. I could go edit his registry as a way to stop this one, but there are enough other unpatched issues in IE that I'd just as soon Rob never use it again. He could have bumped me off my computer to surf and blog tonight, but I figured he didn't ask because he HATES my trackball. And I HATE his. We are definately not compatible when it comes to trackball styles :)

Tomorrow I'm going to try to catch up on all my blog reading and watch the news so maybe I'll have something more to say.

And another thing...
This color coding sh*t with the airplane tickets. I will never fly again even though I'd be a "green". I think the worst part was to see a Texas Senator, Kay Bailey Hutchinson, on CNN talkiing about what a great idea this is. Have you lost your friggin' mind?

Out of pocket
My dad's been in the hospital this last week so I haven't been blogging any (reading or writing.) All is good at this point since they found a problem, did surgery and a full recovery is expected. I thought I'd be blogging about that experience tonight, but instead I received a certified letter from the IRS today that freaked me out even more now that my dad was out of danger. Maybe it was the fact that my stress levels were already high or maybe it has more to do with my deep seated fear of the IRS, but in my mind, these are people who will seize your house, your car, your bank account and put you in jail. The woman I spoke to today for an hour and a half was definitely the best "customer service rep" I've spoken to in a long time, but that didn't stop me from shaking from head to toe by the time I hung up the phone. Later in the day I described my reaction to Rob (and my confusion as to why I was so freaked out) and he had this great analogy. Rob described it as being in a room with a Doberman who was wagging it's tail. You are not sure exactly what to do, but you know if you make the wrong move you are going to get bit. Bingo!

Things are cool with the IRS and as long as we "stay in touch" and do this, that and the other before November 7th we are not going to lose our house because we owe a measly $6000 to the government. A government that wants to spend BILLIONS on Iraq while ignoring all the American people like me that are out of work and can't pay their bills, much less their back taxes. ARGH! How about at spending at least a couple of billions to help create jobs to replace all the ones that have gone out of country?

I'VE GOT TO GET THERE FIRST...
Here's the agenda...get up early,do the hygiene plus a shave.Put on the appropriate clothing(in this case,favorite green shorts...virgin mother T-shirt...impossibly big clunky black shoes).Are we lookin' cool?Oh yeah buddy.Everyone there will know that you,without a doubt are the shit...
Race to the venue...get in line...you had to outpace some people to get in line and for the effort you are #4 in line man...Not too shabby my man.
If one was going to see (insert your favorite post grunge anti new pop rap but no rap hard rock but sorta heavy metal in a post grunge nu metal sorta drop D tuning band name here),it would make perfect sense.
Where was I going?
To clinpath laboratories for a "four stick GTT test"...in other words..I had blood drawn four times in two and a quarter hours with some orange soda tasting stuff as a cocktail...not your intimate club experience with Slayer...to be sure.
I am at a lab...a place where people come to give up bodily fluids to test for things...to figure out what's up...what's ailing you.There are no appointments,it's first come, first poked.
Blood,urine,bowel...they take everything here...most people are in and out...but for me I had two and a quarter hours to sit,and in between draws,observe who came through.
And come through they did...like an assembly line...by my estimation watching the sign in sheet approximately 250 people came through in the time I was there...giving up blood and god knows what else to find out what was ailing them.
The staff at this lab were amazing...a well lubed extracting machine working with each other to move us through as effeciently as possible...the phlebotomist that took my first three was amazing...(let me insert here that I would rather have my eyes burned out with a BBQ butane lighter than have blood drawn...a "contradiction" not lost on the vampires drawing my essence...they see my tattoo's and comment "I can't believe you are afraid of needles."There is a difference,trust me.)
...she was awesome.I didn't feel a thing,plus...she had tattoos...she told me about them.(a bonus for heavily tattooed people is that we get to hear about other people's tat's...always unseen)but she was cool...I liked her,which contributed to my ease about the dreaded needle...god bless her.And she was hot with a 10 gauge...no pain-instant vien.
The vampire that took my last tube took to a different room...she was just as good,but her shelf had a bandolier of smelling salts...ammonia something or other ampules to crack under the noses of fainted depositors...I asked if lot's of folks fainted from this procedure and she said yes and then told me it was ok to relax my fist....done...thank god.
And then I was nout of there...heading to work thinking I'd rather have been in line for Slayer tickets...I took the evaluation form,I filled it out,I mailed it...you guys rock...but not like Slayer.

Time article

People,
I implore you...read this article...and then,after your'e done washing your eyes and mind out with soap...go find this charles krauthammer and kick his nuts all the way to pluto.Then kick them back to earth and crush them with channel locks before his beady little "something in the groundwater in ohio" eyes.
Who told the UN to fuck off? Busherica.
Who told France and the other opposing countries against this insanity to fuck off? Busherica.
Who said in essence "If you won't help us we'll do it ourselves."Busherica.
Whose in so far over his head that he doesn't know whether to shit or go blind? Bush...and by proxy this place you and I live...er...scrape by in called america.
If I was in charge of the UN, I would tell that redneck fucking imbecile to piss off...you made your bed now lie in it...with the emphasis on LIE.
"Go ahead...DO IT yourself...and oh,by the way North Korea just tagged in to make it more interesting".
I read at CNN tonight that Bulgaria has commited troops...HOORAY!!!Cabbage rolls in the mess tent tonight!
Big deal...who gives a shit about Bulgaria? That's like bringing a bat to a gunfight.
I have a theory...
Bush can't make good on those huge contracts to halliburton et al until this shit is under control...and it appears that monkey retard boy has finally accepted the fact that he needs the help of the UN to stitch up the gaping hole he's opened with arrogance and ignorance with the help and advice of a bunch of idiots in his cabinet...or is it cupboard,or better yet his empty jacks bag?
Some say this insanity isn't about terrorism at all, but I disagree...it is.
And the head terrorist of them all is Bush...failed business man, horrible governor, and favorite dupe of the republican party..."let georgie do it...he'll do anything".
The republican party is killing the ideal of america in front of the rest of the world...and the only people not getting it live here.
I know I keep asking this question, but:What's wrong with us?Bush should be tarred and feathered and run out of washington on a rail...
God (or somebody just like him) help us.

The nature of your oppression is the aesthetic of our anger...

Break Time
I'm about half way through my big project for the day which is to rearrange, clean and straighten the office. This is an attempt to prevent the "dog carpet" phenomenon that occurs when Rob and I are both in the office on our computers. All three dogs like to join us and the limited floor space turns into a solid "dog carpet" in the pathway between our desks and the doorway. This causes trips to the bathroom or kitchen to frequently turn into, well, "trips". As in, tripped over the dog because he/she decided to stand up at the precise moment one of us stepped over him/her. The other goal is to block dog access to the window because Theo has suddenly decided after 4 or 5 years that he doesn't like cats wandering around in the front yard and absolutely freaks out every time he spots one. As a result, all the software CDs have been knocked off the rack and even the trash can has gone flying across the room several times. Anyway, the half-way point seemed a good time to fix a little lunch and do some blog reading. My list is getting a bit long and I suppose I'm already at the point where I couldn't read them all once I do finally find a job, but for now I have still have plenty of time :)

My first chuckle of the day came from Lorraine with this post about alternatives to nursing homes.

Better day
Apparently six hours of solid, restful sleep can go a long way to improving one's mood or maybe I've found those invisible rose colored glasses again. Either way today seems to hold a lot more promise than yesterday. It's nice and cool in the office at the moment which makes the temporary demise of the window A/C unit a tolerable event. Somewhere on this A/C unit there is a clogged drain hole, but that's outside in an area where there are several yellow jacket nests. The wasp population is starting to get on my nerves now that dinner has been interrupted twice in one week because one wandered inside the house and felt an affinity for the light fixture over the dining room table. One of the dogs caught and ate the first one (how do they do that with no ill effects?) and Rob swatted down the second one after I fled to the hallway. I'm not sure Rob understands how much I appreciate that little act of heroism, but I get that warm, fuzzy feeling of love just thinking about it. Ah shucks, I'm getting all mushy and sentimental now. Time to go clean house!

Some days
Today was a lousy day for no apparent reason. I have no rational explanation for why today was a lousy day rather than a good day. Nothing bad happened, but I seem have misplaced whatever it is that usually keeps me in a decent mood. It was a blah day and I'm in a blah mood. If I had to pick a color to represent my mood, I would pick beige. Not gray since that color is too exciting and reminds me of rain clouds or thunderstorms. No, I pick that boring, bland beige that designers like to claim is a soothing color. I don't think of it as soothing, I think of it as dull and uninspired which happens to be a very apt description for myself today. Oh well, I suppose we need blah days from time to time so that we can appreciate the good ones.

Odds and Ends
Oops, I haven't posted in a week. So much for the promise to post every day, but let me offer you a lame-ass excuse and a really long post to make up for it. As for the excuse, I entered "Fall Cleaning Mode". I think this is what other people experience as "Spring Cleaning". Austin doesn't really have a spring and we don't really have a fall, but each year there comes a week in late summer when the temps go down a bit. Sometimes this happens in late August, sometimes in September and occasionally not until October. When ever it happens, I feel the urge to clean house, as in "deep cleaning" along the lines of scrubbing the walls and such. This is a very rare thing and something that needs to be taken advantage of should it occur. Normally I'm working a kazillion hours so the moment is lost, but this year I happen to still be unemployed and can answer the calling. I didn't get very far before it was the long holiday weekend and in the spirit of the "holiday" I avoided any more "deep cleaning", but I plan to be back at it tomorrow provided the mood holds. Meanwhile I have spent the long weekend admiring a kitchen wall cleaned of nine years of gunk and promising that I will clean the rest of the walls starting tomorrow.

On another subject, there are a few things that I think should never have been invented. The atomic bomb qualifies as one of these items, but something that is a more frequent occurrence in my daily life is the powered leaf blower. Whoever invented this abomination deserves an endless night of sleepless hell enduring the drone of the damn thing. What was wrong with the rake or the broom? Is it really THAT much more effort to QUIETLY scoop up the leaves? There doesn't seem to be any less arm movement involved and that leaf blower is bound to weigh more than a rake or a broom. I can only hope that this was the last day of my having to listen to the damn thing because the house appears to be rented to someone new so maybe Mister Daily Leaf Blower is gone now.

And speaking of the rental house next door to us, I really miss our old neighbor. Louie lived there long before I moved in here nine years ago (that's why there was at least nine years of gunk on the kitchen wall in above paragraph; I had NEVER cleaned that wall since I've lived here.) I'm not sure that Louie was the most upstanding citizen in Austin and we suspected those weeks away from the house might be due to jail rather than work or visiting family in Mexico, but all the same he definitely was a good neighbor. Thinking about it now, I can't really put my finger on what made him a "good neighbor". It's not like we had dinner parties together though if we had leftover barbeque we gave him our extra and vice versa. I never went in his house once, though I think Rob did a time or two. It's more of a sort of indefinable camaraderie even though we had little in common other than living next door to each other. He looked out for us and we looked out for him and while we definitely had completely different cultures and lifestyles, sometimes people "connect" with each other irregardless of other circumstances. I was really sad when the landlord raised the rent far above what Louie could afford and I thought her cruel and callous until I paid attention to my own property tax increase. Ouch! After that we've had various neighbors to our north side, but no one stays more than a year if even that long. Usually it's a revolving door of college roommates, but this last group didn't speak English so there was no way we could "connect" with them. Maybe the days of really knowing your neighbors have long passed, but I think there needs to be at least some minor level of interaction with the people who live next door to you. Then again, thinking about some of my neighbors from past neighborhoods, maybe no interaction is best! Oh, the stories I could tell from my days living in a Section Eight neighborhood.

Section Eight is a designation for low-cost or supplemental housing. My former house didn't have that designation, but all the houses around me did. This meant that the residents were disadvantaged in some way, usually by virtue of mental illness but sometimes it was just economic status. I usually got the crazy neighbors. They came and went, but some hold special memory status. Like the family to the south of me where the husband worked on cars obsessively day after day. He was definitely nuts and would do a brake job over and over when he wasn't screaming at his wife or his kids about something stupid. He would also wrap rocks in plastic bags and put them in my trash can which would weigh the can down so much that the trash men wouldn't pick it up. It became a game where I had to keep my trash cans in the garage until right before trash day and hope that he wouldn't stuff it with rocks before the trashmen came that day. He also liked to put empty cat food cans wrapped in plastic bags in *my* trashcan instead of his own. And he would obsessively saw wood into little pieces on his back patio, but I never saw those scraps in my trash can. I guess they were "pure" enough for his own. And then there was couple to the north of me where the wife was breastfeeding her three year old in the backyard while talking to me over the fence. I'm not against breastfeeding, but that was kind of creepy - breastfeeding a three year old! Ah well, I guess you do what you have to do with a limited food budget. They moved after repeated robberies which were common in my neighborhood, though never at my house. This despite the fact that I had several windows with no locks and a hollow core front door with no deadbolt. I lived in a neighborhood rife with gangs and drive-by shootings were routine, but I never had any trouble. My lawnmower sat happily in the front yard for years with no theft. I attribute this success to the fact that I had a pit bull, a race car and listened to heavy metal. Therefore, I was "cool". All the same, I was more than happy to move into Rob's house in a safer, saner neighborhood. Oh, the one dude I do miss from my old neighborhood was a man I called "Rip Van Winkle". He lived at the end of the street in a house where the windows were all boarded up. He was tall and very skinny with a beard down to his knees and only came out in the neighborhood in the predawn hours in his white boxer shorts. He would scamper down the streets picking up trash, furtively looking to and fro and if he spotted another human out and about he would rush back to his house with his bag of trash. Fortunately for us in the neighborhood there were few people out and about in the predawn hours so we had the cleanest streets in the city.