I’m Done

***Warning of incoming wall o’ text that may or may not crit the reader for 56432168411 damage, effectively one shotting them.  >.>  I keep looking at it, trying to figure out how to trim some fat – and am simply not able to.  Maybe like Stephen King, I have diarrhea of the word processor.  Or maybe, I simply have a LOT to say here, and need to get it worked out in words.  <.<

I promise however, that the ending won’t be horrible.  It isn’t roses and unicorn farts, but it is a good one for me, I think.

So.

As has become the norm,  it has been a while since my last post because as usual, life has gotten crazy, Lots of stuff got moved to the back burner. where it turned into a charred mess. Cleaning the pan has taken FOREVER.  (probably not the best analogy ever -but who the hell cares!  Am I right?  Y’all know what I mean to say.)

Still scrubbin’ away at the burns, and finding new places all the time but was reminded by the amazing Kit (again with the loves for Kit.  Amazing, caring, loving woman.)  She told me that she was sad because I had not posted in so long.  I told her that I hadn’t because I couldn’t find the words to describe my life right now – it has been so crazy,  my  heart was broken, and I was tender.  She replied that it sounded like the good starting point.

She had a point, so here I am.

To catch up a bit.  Last time you heard from our intrepid heroine, she was happily ensconced in a lovely apartment, with two (seemingly) incomes, in charge of funds so that things would run well – and while her work hours weren’t ideal, things were pretty damned good.

It wasn’t what everyone probably thinks. My husband has always been rather footloose and fancy free when it came to money and responsibility – and telling the truth. Even small things were lies – like where he got groceries… I don’t know in retrospect if he understood the difference.

He is 50 years old- and has never to my knowledge held a job for more than 2 years. He keeps having visions of being a big time contractor, working for himself, making the bucks, but doesn’t have the self discipline to actually -do- that. He doesn’t seem to get the concept that working for your self doesn’t mean LESS work – it means 70 hour weeks instead of 40 with a steady paycheck. It means saving from the fat weeks to cover the lean times while building the business.

His lies have become just too big – and cost me too much. In October, he went to jail unexpectedly. He had some sort of bounced check in Williamson county, and told me it was taken care of. Not so much, and he was arrested by the sheriff who was serving papers for -another- issue. (That bounced check was the same thing he was arrested for in JANUARY – and swore he had it taken care of) His family wouldn’t even help him out of jail.

I got a call from his sister stating basically that he was 50, and they couldn’t do it anymore. It is sad that both his brother and sister not only said that he needed to find his own way out – but urged me to take care of and look after myself, and offered their ears for any ranting/talking I may need to do.

I had never been more humiliated in my life. He lost his job more than 2 months prior  (near the beginning of July) and didn’t tell me – but DID run my bank account into overdraft.

Yes, I hid my card, he found it anyway. He had to have really been searching. He also stole checks out of my checkbook – two of which were paid by the bank (with heavy overdraft fees) – but one to Lowe’s that did -not- and I was working with them to get a payment plan on that – so I don’t end up with a warrant over MY head for a bad check from MY checking account. (They have since simply dropped it.)

If I have to though, I was willing to file a police report – because while I didn’t want to kick him when he was down so to speak, I refused to go to jail, or take blame for that.

I was in an extended stay motel, as the loss of his job/his not coming clean/his stealing from my checking account, and his lying meant that we had to move out of the lovely apartment  by xx date, or face eviction. Again. (This is the second or third – I am not sure about one that he swears was NOT an eviction – time he has put me in THAT position.) I didn’t have any money to pay for another night – and my paycheck for 2 weeks was less than 100 because of overdraft fees. I am blessed that my friend Sarah stepped in, and offered me and the kitties a room in her home.

I am very lucky to have the friends and dad that I have.

Right away, Sarah told me that I could come stay with them for a few weeks, while I figured out what I was going to do.  My dad sent me a bit of cash to tide me over, and help me get back on my feet. as did my lovely friend John and his beautiful bride.

I found that the storage shed, that had all of our stuff, had **also** not been paid for quite some time.  In fact, it was going to go to auction, just like that crappy reality TV show if it wasn’t paid within 10 days.  Now – I get quite a lot of swag from my job – and it can’t be sold.  That is in the agreement when you hire on.  If it had gone to auction, I was in very real danger of losing my job.  (I did go to HR, but there is still the danger of breaking contract.)  My wonderful friend Brenda (who called me every single week during the 5 years I was in MA to remind me that there were people who loved me) made sure that I got that taken care of, so I wouldn’t lose my job.

The first few days of his incarceration, my husband would call me through bail bondsmen – who would try to convince me to pay the bail.  When I stated flat out that I didn’t have the money – he got angry and told me that if I wanted to – I would find a way.  Ummm.   No.  I was the next thing to broke – even WITH the help from my friends and family.  No way could I or **would** I pay that bond.  He had bailed on the first court date, and ended up with a warrant.

Because I am beyond blessed, I was able to pay insurance on the car (another bill that had been “forgotten” – I wonder now where all the money **I** made went).  Ransom my stuff, and get it moved over to my friends house.

Of course, once I got into the storage, I found it had been pillaged.  A lot of stuff had never made it into the shed – or maybe it had been sold off.  My sewing machine and craft stuff, all of my books (less the ones I had in the extended stay for the year) my bed, my chest freezer… even more heartbreaking to me, the very first Christmas present I got from my place of employment. A lovely professional grade poker set that I had never used.  Along with two other branded poker sets that I had purchased (not the same kind) also in pristine condition.

Since these sets were in the bottom of my swag box – I don’t buy the “someone must have stolen them” line I got from the husband.  How would someone have known that that box was special?  Why the poker sets instead of the other swag that would be worth just as much?  I am guessing that was the one thing that someone felt might fetch some cash.  And it is not replaceable though the company.

While he was in jail, after I made it clear to the bondsmen he was third party calling through that I would **NOT** be paying bail, I wrote a letter.  (He couldn’t call me directly, cell phones don’t take collect calls.)

That letter let him know that I couldn’t go on the way we had been.  I had lost everything three times because of him – and I needed more stability.  I hoped that when he got out of jail, he would buckle down, get a real job and an apartment, pay his bills, and learn to live like a responsible human being.  I wasn’t filing for divorce right off.  If he could do that, and be responsible, and live that way for a year or two – we could see about dating, and see if being together was something we still wanted.

Fast forward to the end of October.  Husband gets out of jail, and shows up at my place of employment while I am out sick.  (Sick is going to become a recurring theme for the next several months.  Stress, plus strange weather and allergies played HELL with my chronic bronchitis.  /sigh)  When I get back to work, the physical safety officer calls me into her office, to make sure I was going to be ok – and to ask if they need to put a notice to other security that he could be a danger.  Not necessary, I tell her.  He isn’t physically violent, and I don’t foresee him doing anything that would put me or others in danger.

He shows up again that day.  Because I still love him even though I have left, I make some concessions.  If he is going to get a job, and start working, he does need transportation.  While I am at work, I have agreed that he could use the car.  I would pick him up, take him to work with me, and he would meet me there when I got off – and I would take him home.  Not ideal – but the best I could do.

Here’s where I started to fuck up.  There were a couple of times he would be 20 short for something – gas, or whatever, and I would “lend” it to him.  He would swear that I would see it back by XX day – and of course XX day came, and there was some excuse, some reason why he didn’t have it to give.  I kept him on my insurance plan, because he swore he would pay me the cost of it every month.  Our phone plan, same.

Then, the car died.  Like completely.  No fixin’ this puppy.  Dead.  So, I head off to rent a car for a few days, because husband swore up down and sideways that the guy he was renting a room from could find another car very easily – he actually has a business buying them at auction and flipping them.

Three weeks later – I am turning back in the rental, my Christmas bonus from work eaten up – and still no car.  No word on a car.  Husband has obtained a truck from somewhere – he says it is borrowed, for an indefinite amount of time.  Again, as before, I am depending on and relying on him to get me on time, to get to work.  And of course, there comes a time when things don’t work so well in that situation.  (Didn’t see that coming, I bet.  **rolls eyes**)

I am desperate.  I need a car, because I need to get to work.  I don’t want to lose my job on top of everything else.   Talking to the sister of my soul Julie about the whole mess.  Considering one of those places like Carmax, that will charge an outrageous amount of interest on a car – but unable to qualify anywhere else.  Again I am rocked by how blessed I am.

Julie, who worked for years to get herself and her finances back to good after going through something very similar, pops up with a figure that is in the range of what I can pull off – and then insists on loaning me the money to get a new car.  She even sends an amortization schedule, and apologizes about the interest – she will have to pay interest on it, or she wouldn’t ask for it.  (To be clear, I wouldn’t have taken it without some interest added in – she deserves something for not having that resource for the years of the payment schedule.)

I get a car – and while I am not going to go into THAT whole sad story – I should have it again soon.  >.>  Suffice to say I should have it back in the next couple of days.

Now however, I am **BACK** to relying on husband, and now – he is homeless.  He is living in the ‘borrowed’ truck – and has no money, no food, nothing.

Again, I give him some food money.  Gas for the truck.  (This helps me too – I have to get to and from work while my car is in the shop.)  I am getting low on funds – I have nothing much to fall back on. Every day, I am putting 20.00 of gas in the truck, and I simply don’t have the income to sustain that.

Husband finds a place to stay – a place where down on their luck musicians can “volunteer” 20 hours a week or so to cleaning up the property in exchange for the use of a camping trailer.  No electricity or running water – but a roof.  There are fire pits to cook over.  He gets a job with a temp company, and says that he has been offered a permanent full time job with the company that he is doing work for.

EXCEPT.  Yeah.  Except – he calls me one night, drunk, and tells me that he likes the ranch – that if it gets its funding, he could have a job there.  He doesn’t want to take that guaranteed job, he would rather do the volunteer stuff on the ranch, and maybe get foodstamps.  When I say that he has to make his own choices for what he wants out of his life – he comes up with “I would be doing it for US!”

Um….   what?  Really?  Yeah.  No.  I don’t think so.

Next day – he tells me that he wasn’t serious the night before, and if he did get the guaranteed job, he would take it.

EXCEPT – one week later – almost two weeks ago – I come out of work at 10.45, and he is not there to pick me up.  I call, and he says he got stuck – but he will be there in half an hour.  An hour goes by – and still no husband.  I try to call – no answer.  I try again at  midnight, and again at 12.15.  No answer.

I was waiting for the last shift to get off at 1.30 – I had been offered a ride home by a couple of people if I was still there when their shift ended.  I was saved however, by my room mate, who realized that I wasn’t home yet- called to make sure I was ok, and then insisted on getting OUT of bed to come get me.  <3

She and her husband had discussed it – and if she didn’t need his car (he is driving hers while she looks for a job) I could take it to and from work til mine was finished.  When she has needed it – she takes me to work, and I try to find a ride home.

Husband **DID** leave me an email the next day – saying that if I needed a ride to work, let him know.  I didn’t answer it.  Not going to put myself in that position again.

I **DID** call him however, when I found out that our shared phone plan had gone over on data (I don’t use my phone as a computer.  Ever.  The data is all him.)  He didn’t answer, so I left a message telling him that I couldn’t afford the regular bill, much less the overage.  He needed to stop with the data.

I have talked to my phone carrier – and it pisses me off, because though mine is the name on the account – I can’t remove him unless he agrees to take over financial responsibility for his phone.  Like that is going to happen.  >.<  I think I might at least see about dropping the plan to the bare minimum on data – and I have already pin locked the account so it can’t have changes made to it.  I have also requested that we have a hard cap on data – once it is gone – it is gone.

Next, I have talked to my HR rep at work about what would be needed (legal separation vs full on divorce) to remove him from my health insurance.  I could really use that extra 140.00 or so a month.

I have a feeling that the drunk phone call was his real feelings.  He would rather have a life of minimal responsibility – even if it means some discomfort.  Whatever.  That is NOT the life I choose for myself.  I am on the road to fully truly and finally getting rid of the concrete block that I have chained myself to.
I feel like I have just thrown away the last 10 years of my life – and I come out of this infinitely poorer in all respects. I have given up everything twice (or thrice?) for him.  I never ever wanted to become a statistic.  I swore I would never be in one broken marriage, much less two.

I am strong, and I am resilient, and I know I will get through this. It is overwhelming now – and my heart is breaking in the process. As childish, and irresponsible and outright untruthful as he is – I do love my husband. I just can’t do this anymore. When we moved to TX for this job, 5 years ago he promised me that he would get a normal, 40/week job, and with me doing the budgeting, we could have a REAL NORMAL (as normal as one can have) life. That promise hasn’t been kept – and now, I find myself living in a strange house, borrowing money from friends and my dad, and trying to mend my heart.

I hope that at some point, he really stops to THINK about things, and actually come out with a plan to be more responsible as well. I hope he can find enough love for himself that he stops skating through life, and starts living it. I don’t see that happening however. At 50, I don’t see him really making that connection. And that makes me incredibly sad.

At one point, my mindset was this:

“I don’t think he will really change, but if he did – if he actually spent a couple of years learning to and doing the right thing – I might consider it. I do love him. He has to be responsible for himself, or not.”

That has changed.  I don’t know that I would or COULD ever trust that he had changed.  I feel like I have been a resource – not a love. I won’t be the sometime crutch anymore.

I am currently taking Xanax (on a very occasional basis – the first 30 day script lasted me almost 5 months…) because I have been having anxiety/panic attacks again.  I am hoping that that need will ease up soon.  I am considering trying to find a counselor that I can click with if I feel the need to talk/work through things – or I might just subject y’all to more walls o’ text.  >.>

A wonderful meme I found somewhere (or someone else found and I stole – I forget which) said this:

“When someone loves you, they don’t have to say it. You can tell by the way they treat you.”

How very true!  How very real. How very very much I need to see, hear and remember this.

Now – the most important part of my blog.
A LOT of the strength, inspiration and courage to jump, and cut the ties, has been wormed into my brain by an amazing woman.

I can’t even begin to be as elegant and beautiful a writer as she is – not to mention so full of class and just bad ass – but I am doing my best to emulate.

Elisa Romero – published author and wonderful woman, went through her own marriage meltdown fairly recently.  Reading her posts, her words, and seeing her strength and beauty, have been an inspiration.  Y’all should really read her blog!  It is amazing.  <3

Angels and Forever

She is amazing, and this may have you searching for her on Amazon!

Madison’s Gate  Just one of her many books.  <3

I love you all so much for sticking through this novel with me.  Remember – as long and rambling as it was – I truncated a LOT.  >.>

Be good, be happy and be real.  That is what I plan to do.  <3

The Power of Words

We’ve all heard the phrase “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” chanted at us when we were young, and crying because someone had said something cruel.

Of course, that phrase is supposed to put us in a mind frame that says “what others say to/about me doesn’t matter!  I am __________________(insert the opposite of whatever was said)”

As we all know – this is not true.  Words do hurt.  They can cut deep, and leave scars to rival, or even surpass the physical.  Bruises fade.  Cuts heal, grow smaller, and some physical scars will fade away completely – even if the gaining of them stays sharp and clear.

Words however, leave no physical evidence.  They are sneaky and insiduous.  They worm their way into the head, and pop up when we are most vulnerable to them.  They take on a life of their own – especially when you are already unsure about/insecure about whatever it was that the words addressed.

Struggling with clinical depression – struggling with a lower self esteem, and second guessing all the time makes this even more invasive. I fight with myself over every mistake – every word I have uttered that may have been misconstrued – even years after the fact.  I worry about what and how I said something, because I know this to be true:

Words can indeed hurt.  A lot.

When those words are uttered by someone who is supposed to love you?  Devastating.

Why do those we love do this?  Is it because they are hurting, and know that it is safe to lash out at us?  I mean, we love them – we should forgive.  Right?

I ask, because this happened to me today.  I have been sick for going on a week now.  I don’t know if FMLA will cover the second part of the sick.  It overspans the covered timeframe for the month that we have set up.  I need to see my doctor to ask about having that amended.

My sister called while I was napping – so I missed it.  Called her back after I woke up – and she was screaming at me.

I am here, running a fever of 101 – 102, coughing, hacking, and generally feeling like crap.  She?  Is flinging mud.  Starts with the fact that she has been trying to get ahold of me (facebook and phone) for THREE MONTHS.  It isn’t a matter of her catching me – I just don’t give a fuck, and don’t call back!  (Truth is – I checked.  NO messages on facebook – and one, from JUNE, that was missed.  She had called when I was at work, with my phone off).

She moves on to trying to throw down a guilt trip about my mom.

See, before my mom died, she sent me a Logitech webcam for my computer, and Skype.  It was my birthday present.  I hooked it up, but couldn’t get it to work correctly.  Mom died before I could get the damned thing figured out.

My youngest sister was telling me that I broke my moms heart – denied her her dying wish – wouldn’t use the camera mom bought for me, so she could see me before she DIED.  Didn’t I feel bad that I denied that wish?

Yeah.  No.  Not going to accept that one.

Sorry.  I managed to get over/not fall for guilt trips a long time ago.  Not gonna fall for this one. My youngest sister was just trying to pick a fight.  So, I told her that I wasn’t gonna do this, and hung up.

She called back.  I answered, and the first thing I asked was “are you going to be a reasonable adult?”  “Yes!  Just answer the damned question!”  I hung up again.

The third time, I answered and said that I would speak – but only if she were civil.

Nope.  “Just answer…”  I hung up again, and turned off my phone for about 1/2 hour.

Turned the phone back on (because I was waiting for a call from my FMLA coordinator, to figure out how the messed up claim was going to work), and she called one more time.

“So.  Are you going to be civil, and speak to me calmly?”

“yes.”

“ok.  How are you?”

“Fine.  Just answer the question.  What about…”

“No.  I am sick – running a fever of 102.  I am not going to do this.  Check your facebook.”  and I hung up.

I think she got the message.  She hasn’t called back.  My facebook message to her is private, but basically says, “I love you – but I won’t do this.  I refuse to do this.  If you want to talk to me, I am happy to do so.  If you want to abuse me because you are unhappy with something in your life, don’t bother.  I am not the cause of your unhappiness, and I won’t do this.”

I do love my sister.  She has problems, and I understand that.  She has let those problems dictate her life, instead of trying to figure out how to overcome them.  She has trapped herself in a victim mentality – and now doesn’t want to take responsibility for anything.

I however, refuse to be her punching bag.  I refuse to let her try to drag me to that level.  AND – I know that she is doing this, because she has something that is bothering her, and feels that the only way to deal with it, is to make herself “better”.  Better than someone, or…  I don’t even know anymore.  I am sick, and I am tired, and I am so over drama.

And yet.  I know that while I loved my mother, very dearly – it was a LOT easier from a thousand or two miles away.  I did try to set up that damned camera, but did I try hard enough?  I know that I was ashamed of the way the thyroid issues I have developed made me look, and the weight gain they have caused.  Did I not try hard enough because of NOT wanting to be seen that way?

Is she right?  Did I deny my mother the chance to see me – and ME of my last chance to see her?  Even subconsiously? (realizing of course, that mom died unexpectedly.  There wasn’t any warning.  Talked to her on Sunday night – Monday morning, sis called to tell me mom had died in her sleep.)

Still, I don’t know.  And not knowing, I guess that question will add itself to the other million little nibbling spiders of self sabotage in my subconscious – trying to weave webs of tangled doubt.

I guess congratulations are in order.  The guilt trip?  Seems to have worked.

Little Bits of This and That

Just because.

If I am going to make it a point to get into a schedule, I need to actually do so. Am I right? Of course I am.

I have been a bit heartbroken however. The canvas print I put on this page a couple posts back? The Wicked based painting by James Hance? Yeah. That one. The prints turn out to be much too expensive.  I simply can’t justify the expense. So, no wonderful green Elphie on my walls.

There **is** art on my walls now though – a start at making my restful, lovely hermit cave!

I promised pics waaaaaaaay back in March of the Karazhan posters framed and hung, if I managed to get it done.

Finally, I deliver!

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Husband was skeptical at first. He thought that anything game related was going to go in the office. It is true that the vast majority of my swag, and my game collectable stuff will be in the office. (If it ever comes out of storage. We have been here since the end of MARCH for goodness sake, and Pete is still promising me that each month is the very LAST for carrying over the storage. I **still** don’t have my bed here! Been sleeping in my chair for FOUR MONTHS! RAWR!)

These posters though, are truly something that can be on the living room wall. He should know by now that while I am a geek, I also have impeccable taste in most things, and a fairly decent eye for what looks good. My house will NOT be completely video game oriented. That is mostly for the offce.

That’s the husband critters buzzhead in the pic. Thank goodness he isn’t a comb over type! His hair is… diminishing. Instead of growing it out, he decided to go all super military on it. He has clippers, and buzzes it all off every few weeks. I then get to play clean up on the alfalfa ‘do he leaves behind. He **always** misses that one piece in the middle back – and it sticks up exactly like alfalfa’s did in “The Little Rascals”. (And I hope like hell y’all know what I mean there.)

We do have the table and chairs here as well – and a two canvas painting that the husband critters sister painted.  When Pete went down to see her/help with clear out some stuff she didn’t need, he fell in love with it. Because he liked it so much, she gave it to him. It was the first thing I hung on the wall.

When I put it up, I decided to troll him, and hang it backwards. Because I am not very good at trolling, he missed the point, and LOVES them this way:

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Beyond house settin’ up stuff, I have been gaming a bit. Well, a LOT, actually.

All of the sudden, I have way too many games again, and not near enough time. I’ve been testing the Beta for Final Fantasy XIV A Realm Reborn. (Square Enix agreed with the rest of the world that the first iteration of this game was NOT good, so they completely redid it.) I have been having a blast! I am enjoying this game immensely, and am waiting for phase 4 to start – the open, release candidate beta. Should be happening in a couple of weeks or so, since the launch date has been set firmly for August 27th, with early access for Collector Edition purchasers beginning the week prior, and that for those who stuck with the 1.0 version of the game two weeks before.

Civilization V came out with it’s latest expansion on the 9th of this month. A Brave New World is awesome! It added so much to the game that is already one of the best for turn based strategy (in my own opinion, of course) and made it even better! I have started a game as the Shoshone, and have been having a grand time figuring out the new stuff.
Neverwinter has been fun. Totally free to play – not even a box purchase required. It is of course run on microtransactions, but you don’t have to purchase anything if you really don’t want to. Most of what is sold is quality of life stuff. Unlike some other FTP games out there, it doesn’t hold back aspects of the game. You can play all parts of the game, with all abilities without having to pay a dime. You can purchase extras (like more character slots, bigger/more bags for carrying stuff and bank slots for storing stuff. Faster mounts… that kind of thing.)

Skyrim – still futzing around in that huge and marvelous world – and waiting eagerly for Elder Scrolls Online to come out next year! I signed up for that beta. Don’t know if I will have any chance at it, but one can hope!

Signed up for the beta for a new game coming out as well – Wildstar. This one is Sci Fi – and looks intriguing. We shall see if it lives up to the slowly growing hype it has been getting.

Still playing World of Warcraft of course.  Have my sixth maxed level character now, working on the next to get there.  WoW has been taking a bit of a back seat.  As I said in a post some time ago – it was the -only- game I played for years.  Now, it does get put on hold for a while when I want to try something different. I know it will always be there, well loved and comforting.

I have The Secret World, and can even run it… kinda. It is not what I would call a fun experience however. I need a better graphics card if I am going to enjoy this one – which also just went free to play (though it requires a box purchase) Steam had it for a steal during their summer sale though, so…

 

Besides games, I have been going through a creative phase. I pulled out my colored art stix (kinda like pencils, without the wood – the whole thing is a square colored pencil lead essentially) and my regular pencils/charcoal. Not going to show that though, at least not yet. I am super duper rusty – and want to see if I even have the stuff anymore!

Crochet though… I learned a few new methods, and had a grand time doing so!

First, is Broomstick Lace. This is pretty much what it sounds like. You use a broomstick (or appropriately sized tool – in my case, a piece of PVC pipe, as I could get my husband to give me some left over from redoing some piping on a job) to stretch rows of loops around:

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and then gather the big loops that are made as you crochet the next base row:

 

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Comes out GORGEOUS!

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And the yarn I am using here is amazing. Literally. The brand is not one of the yarn porn brands, but not a bad one – Lion Brand. The line is called “Amazing”, and the colorway for this one is called “Glacier Bay”. I have fallen in LOVE with this yarn. I adore the huge variety of colors it has throughout, and the varying intensities of those colors.

Here, I am using it again in some Granny Squares. These are about 8″ blocks, that I am considering using as base blocks to patchwork with other smaller blocks in solid colors to make a quilt patterned afghan.

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I am absolutely going to have to buy more of this yarn though! It is super soft wool with a bit of acrylic, making it very stable. It holds shape well, and won’t shrink as much as 100% wool would.

I also whomped together a homemade (and very temporary – this thing won’t hold up for any amount of **real** work on it) hairpin lace loom, to see if I would like that technique.  It is an interesting one, and very versatile.  I didn’t however, remember to get any pics. I will be buying a loom soonish though (only about $5, the problem is getting my hands on my car to actually go GET the damned thing.)  When I do, I will show you what this is and does! Super cool.

 

Cooking.

I have been trying some new things, either found on the interwebs, or shared by friends. One of the wins was homemade, baked not fried taquitos.

Assembling:

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And after baking:

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These were rather awesome. I made them the first time with flour torillas because that is what I had a metric ton of. Next time I make them – we will try with corn torillas!

Last, but not least, some cloud porn for your enjoyment! The clouds on this day were very different.  I had never seen them like this before.  The lines you can kinda see in the pics were very clearly delineated, making the entire sky look…  sculptured.

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Husband got totally exasperated with me when I called him out onto the balcony to look at the clouds – until he got there and saw them. Then of course, he was pointing out different places I should point the camera. I think I photographed the whole of the sky (that we can see from the balcony) that day. The strange, almost sculpted look of the clouds didn’t show  well in the pictures – but I picked the best two. These pictures unfortunately don’t do this very strange and beautiful sky the justice it deserves.

As I began.  A little about a lot about pretty much nothing, but it is a post, and I have written!

DAMN!  I’m on a roll!

Fear and Love

So.

I’ve had a real home for a few months, had a shift change, and am now held again to my IDP. (Individual Development Plan as you remember).

New team manager can be a bit of a stickler, and he is gonna hold me to it! (Thanks, Mr. Man. I definitely need the motivation/prods).

It’s not that I don’t want to write. I do! I really really do! There is just so much going on in my twisted little head…

First.

There is of course a fear of starting back up. Writing on a regular basis means commitment!

Other than my high and lofty goals, set out 1.5 years ago, I haven’t written regularly since 1993 when my best friend in the world, the mate of my soul, and one of the most loved people in my life Kevin, died.

He was so young. Just 30 when AIDS took him.

This was before the first cocktail went into trials. This was back when people were so afraid of AIDS that they freaked out at the mere thought of knowing someone affected. I remember my mom being worried because I used to hug Kevin, and even (OH MY GOD) kiss his cheek. She was frightened – afraid that I would contract the disease from that kind of contact.

Back then, people weren’t very informed. There was a LOT of hysteria about the disease. The docs didn’t know much, and the general populace, even less.

I however, knew that we were OK. If he didn’t have an open sore on his cheek (and yeah. Whose gonna kiss a cheek with an open sore anyway. Really?) I would be fine. It wasn’t airborn, so hugs were FINE.

And, at that time, we were both in need of hugs.

I had miscarried my first baby, and he was in the midst of an ugly breakup with his boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend was still his roomie – because they couldn’t afford to live separate. Ex-byfriend was bringing new boys home every couple of evenings – and in the end, had a “live in”. Poor Kevin. His heart was given, and he tried to be stoic, but I know he was hurting. His heartbreak was mine.

I loved Kevin from the first time I met him, at the Denny’s where my first husband waited tables early in our marriage. (He worked there, and I had a job as a subcontractor for the USGS, doing data entry). He worked there as well, and when I came in for all night coffee, waiting for Rick to get off, Kevin never minded if I had a table in his section.

We would talk about books, politics, religion… any and everything that could or would come up. Debate, and discussion, and even if we didn’t agree (which didn’t happen that often, surprisingly) we had a rousing good time, often ending with heading out to breakfast when his shift was over, to discuss more!

It was with Kevin that I saw the movie “The Accused”. Jodie Foster playing Sarah Tobias, in a film that was loosely based on a 1983 rape case, involving a woman gang raped in a bar in MA. SHE was the accused, because she “dressed and acted provocatively”. This movie had me in hysterics. Kevin was able to calm me down, talk me down, help me feel not so violated watching the movie. (I have some serious empathy issues – and when I can relate, Nellie bar the door!)

It was with Kevin that I learned about non mainstream religion (read paganism, in all of its forms) and started to come to an understanding of what the divine means to ME. It was with Kevin that I learned to be a bit more open. Kevin was like a brother I didn’t grow up with, but had he been NOT gay, or I a man, he would have been my love. My one and only. And I would have been his. In the bodies/lives we had however, that was not to be.

Kevin was also my writing buddy. Both of us had the fire. The need. The want. We would read, and critique, and edit, and then reread each others work. He was a maarvelous author, and he had faith in ME and my writing as well. Of course, thinking back on what I was writing then, I cringe. SO fraught with meaning – symbolic as hell, and oh my gods preachy? I should say SO! Ugh. I hope that when I get up the courage to try to write more than my little blog posts here, that I will have found I have grown, and that I am better for the wisdom I have gained.

Still, and most importantly, we were both writing. Kevin was in school – taking classes at the community college, and writing stuff for his Creative Writing course. He also had a filebox full of titles, snips and ideas, as did I.

1993. Kevins HIV positive status had tipped over into full blown AIDS and he had Kaposi Sarcoma. It was invading his legs, feet… pretty much the entire lower half of his body, and with HIV, yeah.

There was a close call in November of that year – where I (as executor of his estate, and Power of Attorney for him) was told that his family should be called – he wasn’t likely to last much longer. He was out of his head – delirious.

Of course, this happened when we were in the beginning stages of a full blown blizzard in Denver. Still, I went to the airport (20 miles give or take each way) three times to get his parents, and each of his brothers as they flew in and take them to the hospital.

Turned out, the staff at the hospital had given him a drug that was dehydrating his brain, and hadn’t given him saline in his IV to help. Once someone realized that, he was more himself.

At that point though – I had another meeting with the hospital staff. His condition wasn’t going to get better, and they wanted me to choose a hospice facility.

It was a happy chance that the one closest to where I lived (only about 6 miles) was also rated the best. At this point, I was spending 18-20 hours a day at bedside, making sure he was never alone. After he got moved to the hospice, he became clearer, more focused. The staff there was awesome. He however, was breaking my heart. He kept talking about “when he got out”. I didn’t want to face it, but I had to.

“Kevin, hon. This is a hospice.”

“Yeah – I know. But when I get out – “

“Hon. The reason you are here, is because there isn’t much time, and we want to keep you as comfortable as we can until…”

“You mean I am going to DIE here?”

“…” (with a squeeze to hand, and tears in my eyes)

“Why the FUCK didn’t anyone tell me? Mom and dad have been talking about when I go home. There’s so much I need to do before I die! So much I need to get out. Please. Make sure my stuff gets done? My books and stories get written? Finish them for me?”

(This is pretty much verbatim for how that conversation went. It is seared into my brain.)

And for the next week or so – I took notes. And listened. And committed to memory. And spent time with my best friend, my soul mate, as he slipped further and further away.

Finally, on December 3rd, 1993, we were in the sun room, and he was giving me more information about stuff he wanted written. Ideas he had, and novels that were conceived, but he was wandering a bit. A couple of nurses were in the room as well, having a smoke break. (This was back in the day – most places still allowed smoking, and in this hospice, that sunroom was the smoking room.)

They looked at each other, and then at me, and the sadness and compassion in their eyes told me exactly what I was afraid to hear/see. “Why don’t we get Kevin back to his room now for a bit? I think he is probably a bit tired.”

They got him back into his bed, and then went to hunt down his family. I stayed there, holding his hand, and a couple of minutes after everyone got there, he was done.

I leaned over, and kissed his cheeks, his lips, his eyes, and whispered into his ear that I would write for him. I would remember him, and I would love him forever.

Now, 20 years have passed. I still love Kevin, and I miss him every day. Some thought of him comes most every day for me still. He was and is, a part of my life that is precious, and beautiful. I have NOT however, fulfilled that promise. I stopped writing.

Apathy. Fear. Heartache. These invaded my life, until it became easier to make excuses than it was to make stories.

Writing this blog was supposed to be a way back to the joy – but I have been letting fear (and a bit of real life) get in the way of that.

Fear is the biggest part here. I have been left with a huge responsibility. Write his stuff – and do it justice. Write my stuff, and do IT justice.

I am afraid. He was such a marvelous writer – and I don’t know that I CAN do this. He had faith in me, but I am having a hard time finding that faith in myself. Can I write it – get it out, and get it READ? If I do, would it be what he wanted it to be? Would it be good enough?

These thoughts haunt me, and I find myself sinking into a quagmire. If I don’t try, I won’t fail.

If I don’t try however, I can’t succeed. I will also have broken a promise made to someone I loved, and still love with all my heart.

Where the Wild Bloggers Are!

And that would be right here!

Here, as in HOME.

YES! I have a home now! Have had, for about a month.

I haven’t written in ages. I got tired of whining, and moaning, and complaining. Seemed to be pretty much all that was happening on my blog, and in my life.
I had to live with it, as did the hubs thing. I didn’t however, have to make y’all deal with it, so I kinda… stopped for a bit.

Last we heard of our intrepid blogger heroine, she was still traversing the terrors of the tenth circle of Dante’s hell, (you know – the one even HE found too horrific to write about?) and well, whining. And moping. And bitching. ‘Cause hell, ya know? Hot, and dark, and cramped? Well, the husband creature thing had promised that by my birthday – HOME!

Yeah. That didn’t happen.

Then, he promised ABSOLUTELY before Christmas/New Year! Uh. Huh.

Then before January ended. And February. /sigh.

By this time, I had decided. If I made it to April 30th. (A full mother frickin’ YEAR mind you.) I was gonna celebrate thusly:

Cheap, plastic woven lawn chair from that world class outfitter – Walmart.

Several 40s of PBR (only the best!) from the nearest 7 – 11.

Stained boxers, and a wife beater.

ME – ensconced in the chair, with a cooler holding the extra PBRs, in the wifebeater/boxers, camped out on the chair, in front of the window to the room, on the “verandah.”

At that point, if you can’t beat ‘em, might as well join ‘em, am I right? I mean, if you are going to do something, you should do it the very BEST you can. Right?

HOWEVER -

I was saved from this horrible fate. I found and brought to Pete’s attention to a NEW and SHINY locator. And?

She worked miracles.

Austin is getting more and more expensive to live in as people flock here for jobs.

The houses that we might possibly be able to afford last year? Twice that now. HOWEVER -

Susan was able to do it! – even with my slowing rising again credit, and Pete’s history.

We got a lovely apartment! Yes, it -is- on the third floor, which means my back is cranky if I have to carry anything up, but it has high, crown molded ceilings! Light, bright, airy – with a tub fit for a queen! <3

The queen of tubs

THE TUB!!!!!

Great room

The great room – seen from the dining room end.

Bedroom

The corner of the bedroom – because there isn’t much interesting about a bedroom without anything in it, is there?

Kitchen

The kitchen – where my everything lived until my comfy stuff and computer desk made it here! (there is a little “desk” type part of the counter built in at the back there)

Office

The office! My ‘puter is NOT in the living room! It has its OWN room! **squeeeeee**!

We have been here a month now. The comfy chairs/loveseat are here, as is my computer desk. The bed? Not yet. Washer and dryer? LOL. no. In fact, besides the clothes we had in the room, stuff mentioned above, and my kitchen table/chairs – it is ALL still in storage. We have been here for 5 weeks now.

Most recently I scored a couple of movie poster frames at Walmart. Two of the three Karazhan posters now have frames. One more, and I will have the set on my wall! When I do – more pics!

Also, there is a painting that I am waiting with bated breath for the print to be released. An artist named James Vance has a painting based on ‘The Return Of Spring’ by William-Adolphe Bouguereau. “The Adoration of Elphie”. Finished Elphie

This painting for me, speaks so very clearly to the character Elphaba in Wicked. I read this book when it came out – well before the Broadway play was made of it. I adore the book, and this character. When I saw this painting, I knew I had to have it. And barring any kind of catastrophe, I shall! Just as soon as he gets the canvas prints done. >.< Y'all should click the link to Mr. Hances page, and check him out! He is truly fascinating to read on Facebook as well. Watching him start with a red or blue wash, and then having magic emerge from it – an absolute marvel to behold!

I really REALLY don’t want to pay another month on the storage shed – especially since we are already paying extra so that Pete has a garage for storage here. That would be due on Friday though – so no matter how emphatic the husband being is when he insists that it will be here before then, and we won’t have to re up for another month…

Let’s just say I am not going to hold my breath.

Is this the beginning of new life/new regular schedule?

Not gonna promise anything, but I am sure gonna try! (still on the IDP, damnit!)

Of Procrastinating, Procedures, and Pet Battles! Oh My!

I could try to make all sorts of excuses for not posting the last couple of weeks, but I’m not gonna.

Truth is, I was just lazy.

I would start my weekend with the best of intentions for posting, and come late Friday night/early Saturday morning, I would realize that I had put it off TOO long, and I was too tired.

Decided that was NOT going to happen this week, so here I am!

I’ve been slacking on the crafting. I have the stuff, I even have it out where I can see it. I just can’t seem to get comfortable enough to DO it.

The counter where I sit at my computer is really too high – even with my office chair raised to the max, the counter comes up almost to my armpits. Means that I get tired arms very very quickly when doing anything that involves the “table”. Unfortunately, that does include (to some degree) my crafts, even the knitting. It gets in the way. And I just CANNOT get comfortable enough sitting on the bed to do much of anything. No back support, or if propped up against the headboard, I find I am awkward with the needlework while my legs are sticking right out in front of me.

I know. I’m weird. We ALL knew that, so we don’t need to dwell, right?  Right.
Onward.

I am not the only procrastinator around here. Hubster STILL hasn’t managed to check out listings being sent to get us OUT of here, and when my temp tags ran out on the 31st (I nagged him every week to get the Certification of Title paperwork from the previous owner, but it didn’t happen) he… extended the temp tags. Instead of getting the permanent ones. /sigh

At least I will be legal for the next month again. Would have been driving back here on expired tags Wednesday at midnight, if our systems at work hadn’t had a nervous breakdown. We did all the stuff that was waiting for out of queue time, and then were told to go home. NOT that I was unhappy about that! It was only a bit over an hour, and on my Friday! PLUS – I was legal driving back here! (The county where my office lives is notorious for “by the book” policemen, and this was Halloween night.)

Going into a short week this week, but not for fun. Have a docs appt on Wednesday, and won’t be in any shape to work Wednesday night. (Come ON good pain pills!) Made the appointment so that I could get done what I need to get done, and have a couple of days to recoup. Honestly, between allergies, a possible plague moving about the workplace, and the insomnia that is hitting again, maybe the drugs Imma have to take will get me back on track as well!

ANYway.

I have found a new addiction. And it might reach further than I would ever have thought.

Pet Battles.

Yup. You read that right. Pet battles.

With the Mists of Pandaria expansion for World of Warcraft, a new little mini game was added. Pet battles.

Now, all my girls in WoW have always been pet whores. It is why my account doesn’t have more gold on it than it does. They ALL had to have ALL THE PETS. Now, I have more to DO with those pets than just have an addon pull one out randomly to follow me around.

First, the Developers of WoW decided to make these “companion pets” account wide (which works better with the system they have set up) which means I had a BAZILLION AND ONE pets with all the dupes. (In reality, it was 1,438, of which about 148 were unique). The VAST majority of these could be caged, and put up on the in game auction house. (barring of course pets that were gained through Collector’s Editions, Real Money Pet Store… stuff like that). If it was gained in game, you could cage it, and try to get your gold back/make gold on them.

Finally! Something that **I** had a corner on the market for!

I have been doing pretty well with selling extra pets, (and oh so many more still in my SECOND bank alts guild bank… opened JUST for pets. One on each faction. I know. I am a bit… twisted. Again, we all knew this. Right?)

It is the actual BATTLING though, that I am addicted to.

Well, not the BATTLING per se, but the COLLECTING.

Go figure, huh?

There are special marked pets out in the world, and you can get your team of pets (chosen from what you have already, either pre expac, or captured) and head out into the world to battle and or capture these pets! THEY in turn, can be swapped into and out of your team, and so on, and so on, and so….

Remember me? The pet whore? No such thing as too many?

Yeah. Me. I have been taking my ‘lock out and about, battling to capture pets, looking for the rare ones, leveling up my “team”, and all round having a blast.

In fact, this weekend, that is pretty much all I did. (Few dailies on the two girls I have in the new zones, but that is it.)

What’s REALLY sad?

I am thinking about asking for/looking into getting a Nintendo 3DS for either Christmas, or my birthday. Solely so that I can get the Pokemon games. Because it is, from what I understand, the exact same thing, only more portable.

Seriously. Because now, I am worried that I will run out of pets to capture/upgrade (there are 4 “levels” of pets you can catch – poor, common, uncommon, and rare, so if you have say… an “uncommon” level skunk, and you run across a “rare”, you can battle that one, and if successful, add him to your pet book, either replacing the “uncommon” or just adding, as you can have up to 3 of any one kind of pet). My binge this weekend got me through a LOT of zones, and earned me a LOT of pets.

What will I do if I run out of pets to tame?!? The HORROR!

So possibly Pokemon. Because ya know, if I have to have an addiction – pet battling isn’t a bad one.

It could be crack.

Just sayin’.

I got nothin’

I know.  It’s lame, and silly – but there it is.

Nothing super exciting, or life changing, or on the top of my head tonight.

I **DO** have a car, and have been chauffeuring myself back and forth from work for the last week or so.  This is a good thing – to be in charge of my own gettin’ there!  (Where ever there happens to be.  In the case of this week – work, and then not work. Cause with mandatory OT, there just isn’t much else for me – even if it IS only one hour a day… )

I have gotten my Alliance druid to 87.5, and started her farm in my game.  (If I were able to raid with my guild, this would be BAD!!!!!!  as they are hoping to begin next week.  As it is, not so much.)

I have battled pets to level 10 – 11, and gathered some rare catches out in the wild.  Assuages my pet whore tendencies.

Made lots of gold in the AH with sales of extra pets from the account wide pet/mount change in game.  (who knew that spending gold to get ALL the girls ALL the pets, and spending the time as well, would pay off? )

Other than that, no production at all.
I know.  I fail.  Hard.  Such is life though.  Hopefully, more fun,  more words, more EXCITEMENT, EXPLOSIONS, PUNS and general SNARKINESS next week!

 

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