Virtually Val

Spam, Phishing and other Email Pitfalls

2008-05-09T12:59:00.000-07:00

Ever have one of those days, that everything just IRKS you? I'm in the midst of one. Nothing horrible or dramatic just - arghhhhhhhhhhh. First, I recieved not 1 but 4 phishing scams in my email. The first came from the "IRS" claiming they needed info to speed delivery of the stimulation check we're all to recieve. Something about it, just didn't seem right, so I contacted the IRS, they confirmed what I suspected - spoofed email addy. I was also told, that someone is making phone calls, claiming to be the IRS and gathering info in that way.
The second was supposedly from 'PayPal', saying that my account had been suspended because they had noticed some unusual spending . Again they too wanted all my banking info. The fake site looked almost identical to the real Paypal site - except the url read wrong. Unsure, I called Paypal - sure enough another spoof.
The other two were the usual, I've won some lottery ( one was supposedly Microsoft) that uses email addresses, and for my $70gadzillion dollars I just need to give them my banking info. Uh-huh. Ok, the intention of being ripped-off, seems obvious to me - but it must be working as they just don't stop. Are there still folks naive enough to just hand over their info? Worse, those poor souls, probably aren't 'greedy', but just that desperate for money.
Another email that just angers me, is the one with a sad story from some parent with a sick child and AOL, (or some other large company) will pay them 5 cents everytime it's forwarded. (There's one with a newborn's pic attatched, that I KNOW has been circulating since 2000 at least.) Obviously, no one is making money off this hoax - but what about the desperate parent, whose child IS dieing? Imagine the false hope they might feel, only to be informed by these corporations that they just don't do that. I don't know the statistics, but I'd wager tracking certain emails beinging forwarded could be pricey and time consuming. Face it, this kind of hoax is just plain mean.
There's several things we can all do to protect ourselves and eachother. First, stop forwarding emails that prey on emotions or ask you to 'send to all' so that Johnny can get his operation. Secondly, research any that are 'reporting' vicious viruses before forwarding.
Phishing scams should be duly reported. Most email services have a button you can click to report . If you believe it's from a spoofed address, call the company involved ( look the number up, don't use the one on the fake site if it's there) Most companies, like PayPal, will address you by your first and last name in their emails. It's no biggie if you're wrong, legitamit companies would rather you play it safe. Odds are if you recieved that email, a few hundred others did too. You just may be saving Great-Auntie Em's farm from foreclosure because some louse emptied her account. Once it has been confirmed it was indeed a 'spoofed' address - warn everyone you know.
Email can be alot of fun, it's a great way to share info, and laughs. Together we can also make it safer for all. Forward responsibly and help get rid of Spam and phishing.

Here we go again

2008-05-02T07:54:00.000-07:00

I've started another blog over at MySpace - check it out, if you're curious. Why, have I started another blog? No real reason, except I found out , I've been a member there for the past 3 years, and didn't know. Be interesting to see, if I get more readers there then here. Although, I've got to say, Blogger is much, much easier to customize, and offers way more options. More interesting will be to see, if I can keep up posting very different posts, in each place.
I think most of my depression has finally lifted. Not that things have changed radically or anything. In fact, today is very overcast, and we're having thunder storms. Lousy weather, even if you're a duck. I'm just hoping it slacks off or even stops completely before I have to leave for work. It wouldn't be too bad, except we keep having gusts of wind, that make umbrellas more struggle then help.
I am toying with the idea of stepping up my show on Caravan Radio. Several folks have mentioned, I should talk more. Ye gads - are they all tone deaf? I think I sound like Minnie Mouse on helium, but am assured it is quite the opposite. Interesting to note, these are mostly males making the request, although my friend, Rosa tells me, I have a 'very cute accident'... I don't think I'm the one with the accent, Rosa....
Sherry, president of Caravan Radio, thinks I should do more talking because 'I'm funny.' Hmmmm...I am? Is that funny ha-ha? Or funny - weird ? Oh , well I can give it a shot. Just have to work up my nerve.
What many don't know is I had speech therapy for five years. I suffer from letter transference ( on double letters one wants to be a 'd', like budton for 'button' or budter for 'butter'. And 'ch' wants to be 'sh'.) as well as a stuttering problem. Although, I seldom stutter now. Still, I am aware, and sometimes only speak well with extreme concentration. Fortunately, for me, most people are lazy listeners, and thanks to that therapy, it goes mostly unnoticed. Or perhaps, my speech is not as bad as I think. Who knows? The important thing is for folks to have fun while listening to my show. From their reactions, I can only assume that they do, though not as much as with Nomad. That man is hysterical. How he can be in at least 3 chatrooms, taking requests and dedications, filling the que, downloading new material, on IM, and talking all at once, is a study in multi-tasking. Personally, I have my hands full with hosting, djing , and requests, without being in multiple rooms. Although I am still waiting to break the double digit listener mark. Tune in, darn it! lol
I am watching Caravan Radio grow. We are bigger, stronger, and I think better, then ever before. Sure, we still have our eyes (and ears) open to new talent, in either dj or artist form, but we're a solid group. We know we have each others backs, and none of us suffer the 'diva' syndrom. It's even more like a family, then ever before. Why? I'm not sure, perhaps it is because we're all sharing in the growth. We've shared in the pitfalls, weathered technical difficulties, and learned together what works and what doesn't. One day, in the not too distant future, we may rank as the number one internet radio station in the world!!!

2008-04-29T07:16:00.000-07:00

Here it is...the day of the big 5-0... half a century - is that possible? Of course it causes me to reflect upon my life, and wonder what the heck I've done with it. Sure not where I thought I'd be by now,or if I would even get here. It's been a long and rocky road, but being honest, I'd have to say...not been all bad. Sometimes, in order to go forwards, we have to look back. We can't choose our memories, but we can pick our focus. The last 10 years have been something else. If there are such things as 'dues' in life, then I have certainly paid them. During those years, I bore the worst of pains - physically, and mentally. The first being, catching an air borne virus that shot me down like MS, attacking the muscles and nerves in the left side of my body. It would feel like a giant charlie horse claiming that side, then explode in my head as I hit the ground, unable to move, or to speak coherently. Then would come the feeling of ants crawling all over that side... the tests to determine exactly what was wrong, were nearly as painful. Nerotin and Zanflex became my best friends. My left side weakened, and began refusing commands from my brain. Being left handed, this was very obvious. I would go to pick up my coffee and would have to concentrate on every movement - reach, curl the fingers, lift...and often, not have the strength to pick up the item no matter how small. It was a dark and scary time. My children staunchly refused to leave me. I remember how, the first time I managed to dress myself and walk across the floor without 'lurching', how they cheered. Mom was making a come-back. It took almost 3 months of intense PT to help me relearn even simple things ( buttoning, tieing my shoes, walking, etc. with effort) and almost another two years to be released from doctors care, and be weaned from the meds. On the up-side, I became almost ambidextrous, I taught myself to even write with my right. Now, I'm at about 98% of my original mobility.
Life took an upswing - I landed a good paying job as an office manager for a communications firm. For once bills were being paid on time, and I had the money for us to do things as a family. Nothing grand, but definatley a step up from camping in the back yard. Then 9/ll happened, crippling the company I worked for. By Christmas of that year, I was out of work. January, the following year, I was dealt the cruelest blow of all - my son lay dead, his life taken by his own hand.. (NO! I am NOT going there, today... not, today...) I couldn't find work, and I'm not real sure what I did in the following months. I know I went on a creating binge. I wrote alot, painted pictures and murals in almost every room. Using my daughter's keyboard, I even wrote some songs. I scrounged money where I could, mostly cleaning for other people... and applying for 'real work'... that same year, I lost the house. A last minute sale allowed my daughter and I to walk away with $2000 dollars...for our home of 17 years. The house she'd been born in, and known her entire life. The house, I had remodled with my own hands. I remember standing out on the back deck, that I had built with my ex-husband, and looking out across our 3/4 of an acre lawn, at the garden, and the trees I had planted. I remember, walking through the rooms, and lightly tracing the trees I had painted on my son's walls - he had so loved the woods... I remember saying 'good-bye'.
They say, when God closes a door, He opens a window...I felt that in my case, He slammed the door and nailed the windows shut. I did not know, at the time, He would place me in the hands of an angel, my new landlord. I've been here for 5 years now. As long as I am up front with him, he is more than fair in his dealings with me. No matter what else I trip over, Peter always finds a way to cut me some slack.
I am still looking for a decent paying job...I have to laugh that the Government is finally admitting we're in a recession - where have they been? Folks out here with PHDs are lucky to get work flipping burgers. But, at least I have work, even if right now the hours are minimal, just like the wages. I also have a car waiting for me, as soon as I can scrape up the money. With a car, I can broaden my scope for work, and perhaps find at least full time. And, I have my faith... the good Lord hasn't allowed me to tumble down farther then I can climb back up, why would He start now?
Mary, my roommate moves out soon. Supposedly this week, or as soon as she gets the keys to her new place. I'm sorry to see her go, but I've done what was intended - perhaps come August, she'll have her boys back with her. First , according to the judge, she has to 'establish' herself...and this is that step. ( My apartment is way too small, and wouldn't meet with approval of four people living here, by DCFS and firelaw standards.) In many ways, Mary has always been one of my 'other' children. Kids, I've known since they were little, who see me as extended family. Kids that, I hope, I had a positive influence over, and do well in life. Even her boys see me as 'family'. Her youngest tells me when he's grown and a zillionaire ( doesn't aim very high, does he?) he's going to buy me my own house, with a maid and everything. My, my, my...
I've watched my daughter mature into a fine young woman. She'll be graduating college next year, and move on to a life of teaching. ( To me this is more awesome then when I watched man first walk on the moon.)
Yes, the past 50 years, have not been too bad - I wonder what's in store?

From down the Rabbit Hole

2008-04-18T11:27:00.000-07:00

Yes, I've been missing for sometime now. Depression has an adverse effect that way. I wrestled with scary thoughts for sometime, and have been struggling hard to climb back up. Thing is...
I'm not of a depressed nature, and usually if I am not happy, I can pinpoint the reason. But, how do you locate the reason when it's so very muddled? It isn't ONE thing , but a multitude of tiny insignificants. I'm not even sure if depression aptly describes where I've been. Perhaps a very bad case of Immense Blahness, is a better wording.
Looking for work, that's not to be had. Loosing my room-mate. (Which is actually a good thing - a step towards getting her kids back- our goal.) Finances - well heck you need money to have those...I sorta remember money. There is also that uneasy feeling of trepidation that lines my mouth with a metallic taste. A fine vibration of fear constantly nagging at me. Not exactly Mary Sunshine of late.
Speaking of vibrations, we had an earthquake this morning. About 5 on the rector scale they say. Unusual for the Midwest, and maybe it explains why the cats have been so bonkers lately. I was waken from sleep by the sound of things shaking on their shelves. Initially, I thought some huge truck was going past, followed by the thought of a tornado - hey, I SAID it woke me. First thoughts from sleeping are seldom logical. I glanced out my bedroom window and saw neither semi or signs of storm. By now, my bed was trembling and the noise level was fairly loud. I grabbed my robe, and headed out of my room to check on the roommate- not exactly knowing what was happening - suddenly it stopped. In the silence I could hear the ticking of my clock. It was as if nothing had taken place. If it hadn't been all over the news, I'd have chalked it up to vivid dreaming.
Yeah, perhaps that's the worst thing about my brand of depression - the dreams become so real feeling. Sometimes, they are just reliving the past. Again and again, I have fought the struggle for my son's life...again and again, I've watched him die. Again I face the accusations - I see the looks and hear the cruel remarks - made out of grief directed at me. "What did you do to drive him to it?", "Why didn't you save him?" Time and time again, these memories surface in my sleep. I wake, exhausted. Barely more than a ghost myself. I know I did everything mortally possible. I know he went knowing I loved him. And I know that my love was simply not enough to repair his emotional damage.
Other times - well, the dire side of situations, I'm dealing with surface. Ugly vignettes of what may be. Of course in trying to escape the dreams I somtimes develope insomnia.
Reality isn't much better then those wisps of the night. I just need something positive to hold on to.
I think where I'm working will fold within a year. All the earmarks of bankruptcy are there... they've slashed payroll to the point, I can even call it 'part time'... with Mary gone, I've no idea how any of these bills will get paid. I'm not making enough to meet rent, let alone the utilities.
I look for work, only to hear 'not hiring' time and again. Without a car my options are limited.
I'm keeping to a 10 mile radious. About a 2 hour hike, one way.
IF my amended tax return ever shows up, I have a car lined up. Hopefully that and a full time job before things are too bad.

2008-03-15T07:51:00.000-07:00

Thursday, my pal, Angellesa interviewed me for BlogTalk Radio. Her radio show covers the different aspects of writing and my segment was called, " Good Editing Makes the Manuscript".
Since I am a published author, and have a small editing service, she thought it would make a good show. You can listen to the archieved broadcast over on the right. Just click the little triangle.
It was a lot of fun talking to Lesa on the air, and we are talking of doing more shows in the near future.

The Doll House

2008-03-12T09:04:00.000-07:00

I don't know what set me to thinking about it, as I hadn't for quite some time. Yet lately, the memory of a two story Victorian dollhouse I had built for my daughter keeps emerging. Every minute detail just so from the house number (1992 the year it was made) to the twisting grand staircase that led from lower to upper floors, stained and hand-polished to a soft glow. No slap and dash venture, my son and I spent months working in secret on it. In his room on the plastic cloth where normally a model car would be strewn, shingles laid - each being hand-stained for the roof.
In my mind's eye, I can see each room - hear our hushed giggles in memories corridor as we tried our best to 'wallpaper', or create flooring. Funds were limited, and we did our best with found materials. Remnants and such. Josh was around 11 at the time. I can still remember his face beaming at me, when he showed me the treasure trove - a wall paper sampler catalog a local company was going to toss, some out of date floor tiles they no longer wanted. Amazing what determination and an Ex-acto knife can do.
Door knobs were fashioned out of tiny 'pearl' buttons, the glass in the windows, plastic culled off of doughnut boxes and the like. Bit by bit, the rooms took shape. We became experts with the hot-glue gun , tweezers, and swearing.
What I didn't know, at the time, is each new 'challenge' was met with a scavenger hunt by my son and his friends. Odd bags of bits and pieces would just show up at the house. Remnants of a newly laid carpet, bits of wood, dowels, buttons, earrings, beads - anything they thought might be usable.
Of course once the rooms were done, they had to be furnished. The Borrowers would have been very proud of us, I do believe. Of course, sometimes our sense of scale went slightly askew. However, I don't think it really mattered in the end. I remember the quilt, mostly. For some reason, Josh was very adamant that the parents' bedroom had to have a patchwork quilt for the bed. I nearly went blind cutting and sewing those tiny patches together. Of course, that was also the first thing the dog ate....right along with the tiny felt 'family' that lived there.
I wonder what became of that house? I don't believe we threw it out, but I can't find it stored here anywhere. Perhaps she has it over at her Dad's. It doesn't really matter - I know in reality it can't possibly touch the grand status it achieved in my memory. I can still see the gleam of adoration on her face when we gave it to her, and hear the pride in my son's voice as he pointed out what he did on it.

2008-03-07T12:33:00.000-08:00

I am sitting here trying not to cry. To push away the thoughts that weave blackened, tentacles into my mind. Panic nibbles at my senses, as a rat nibbles cheese. A sick feeling lays in my stomach like dragon bile. Yet, if I were asked what is wrong, I would have to say 'nothing.'
It isn't anything tangible, or something dramatic. Just a myriad of little things...
and I know, that hundreds of others are also facing those same things. Logically, I know I shouldn't take it personal - but , Lord love a duck, I do.
I also know, that if I just BREATH and take it apart, things wouldn't seem so awful. Just for the moment, I am over whelmed... The thing is, I know these small stumbling blocks are like dominoes and will have adverse effect on my tomorrow. However, a lot can happen between now and then...
Ed McMahon could show up at my door with that BIG check.
I could be a multi million dollar winner in some lottery that I never entered. ( My email says so. I just have to give them all my banking info.)
My dream job could fall in my lap any time.
Aliens could stop by and take me to their home planet.
Yes, I'm being a bit silly, but it helps hold me together.

Winrer- bahumbug!

2008-02-22T08:17:00.000-08:00

Winter - bahumbug! I am so ready for it to be over. I no longer see the falling snow and think 'How pretty,' but groan inwardly at the thought of shoveling yet AGAIN. Worse though is the ice. It has been so cold this year, we've actually sprouted what I term 'ice fields'. Long, wide stretches of treacherous ice, over sidewalks and fields, that no amount of salting seems to control. Since they are across where folks walk, the turned up slush has frozen into zagged uneven peaks, making crossing difficult at best, and dangerous. A fall sends one of these frozen peaks peircing your skin. Not a lot of fun. Even the snow banks, that I will opt to climb up and walk on, are frozen solid, and at times too slick to mount. One can't help but think, if I fall and can't get back up, how long before help would arrive? In the subzero temps no one who doesn't have to goes out. I'm sure if anyone videoed my walking, my erratic steps would make me appear quite drunken.
Adding to the 'adventure' is icey winds, that bring the temperature into double negative numbers. It sends tendrils to seek out any openings to nip your skin, slicing its way through gloves, even. Putting your hands in your pockets, is NOT an option, you need them to aid your balance. Walking in the street is also not an option, because the drivers who are out, would make you a hood ornament. These are also the same lot, who gabbing on cell phones would not notice what appears to be a body sprawled on the ground.
Once I make it into town proper, it is better. Constant travel, even on sidewalks has erradicated most ice. You just need to be aware of 'black ice' patches, where the asphalt looks wet. The buildings, crowded together break most of the wind.
On the worst days, someone from the Shelter always seems to invite me in for a moments warming. While tempting, I hardly ever accept as I need to get to work on time, but on the return trip, I've accepted a time or two. It's a bit past my midway mark on the 3 mile trek, at the top of a rather steep hill. No matter how many times, I've climbed that hill, I find myself still breathing hard at the top. Especially if the wind is head on.
Now, before anyone goes to feeling sorry for me, I would like to relate the following story. Last week, when the windchill was a negative 35F, I wore 5 layers of clothing for warmth, and carried spare gloves, and socks in my bag. I am not a fan of frostbite. I bundled up so that I get called 'pequeño esquimal' - Little eskimo . I was coming off of a 8 hour shift, for which I stand the entire time without breaks. It was just too busy for any breaks, that day. I was tired, and jonesing for a smoke. Despite my layers, I was also cold. I wasn't exactly a happy camper, especially with the headon wind. Then I saw her. A tallish, thin woman with pinched features, stood next to me on the corner waiting to cross. Wearing only a zipped up fleece hoodie, and shivering. We didn't speak. I thought surely she wasn't going far dressed like that. She pushed back her hair, and I saw her hands red and chapped - not even gloves in this bitter cold. A block later we're again waiting for the cross signal. "You going far?" I venture. She looks at me, suspiciously, I think. Eyes narrowed, but perhaps that's just the wind. "Up to the Hope Chest," comes the reply. "Dang, girl - that's at least a mile and a half! Where the hell is your coat?"
"I'm ok," her jaw juts out, with determination. She's vibrating like a tuning fork with the cold.
"Bull shit," I say. "C'mere -" I step over to where a building forms an L - in this lee I take off my outer coat and strip off my heavy sweater - "Put this on." I hand her the sweater. "Might be a bit short - but it's warm." She opens her mouth to argue and I hush her. "Let me do this - I owe." She takes it hesitantly and pulls it on. It's followed by my scarf and spare gloves.
"I can't," she says. "You can and will," I reply. Tears form in her eyes. "Don't cry, they'll freeze on your cheeks," I say. "Besides, I've more."
We walked in silence to the Hope Chest, where once she was inside, I turned to leave. I'm only slightly more than halfway home. 'Hey! Your scarf!" She says draping it across my shoulders. I sense this returning is important to her, "Thanks," I reply. I refuse her returning of the sweater or gloves though - the image of her hands the knuckles looking as if they'd crack and bleed still in my head.
Someone calls, "Pequeño Esquimal! How are you?" I laugh and say hi to the large man I know only as "Tank" - reaching up for my traditional hug. I whisper in his ear to make sure this woman gets a warm coat and scarf. He gives me a quizzical look, and I pull a 20 from my pocket and wink at him. He winks back, and I leave knowing matters are in good hands. Hope Chest is a thrift store, ran by the Salvation Army. I know if she is as bad off as I think, Tank will make arrangements.
Now, I'm no saint. And I believe the above happened for a reason. To help hammer home the idea that no matter how bad you think things are, someone has it worse, and even when you think you have nothing, you have more than you thought, and always enough to share.

Pass the Sour grapes along with the cheese, will you?

2008-02-04T12:51:00.000-08:00

I just finished doing my taxes, and made a discovery; when you put the words "The IRS" together, you get "theirs", and that's the basic truth of it.

I find myself wondering a lot lately, like will I ever get a decent paying job or even find full time work. I swear, the 40 hour work week seems a thing of the past , except for 'seasonal', and that's for a short burst. I watch my bills becoming a tidal wave, just waiting its chance to pull me under. I don't think it's very fair that proposed jobs react as if I admitted to being a junkie, when they find out I have no car. Around and round goes the wheel of self-doubt and reproach. Obviously, I need a car to make money...but I need money to get a car. It's a vicious cycle.
Meanwhile, I just learned that the self-labeled "alcholic, pot-head" with less education than me, who works for the same company at a different location, just got a promotion ... Ok, Life you just aren't playing fair. What on earth does a body have to do? Here I am hiking 3 miles in snow up to my knees for a pitance and slender hours - and I don't deserve a raise? Or at least enough hours to survive on? C'mon! It's insain! What kind of excuse is "Well they just increased minimum wage?"
Yeah, yeah, I know- I'm whining. But at least with the complaining, I'm not wading in that ol' pity pool. Pass the sour grapes along with the cheese, will you?
I just feel as if I stepped into a crowded elevator and SCREAMED at the top of my lungs, if I was very fortunate, someone may turn around and say, "excuse me? Did you say something?"

Life after death

2008-01-23T11:10:00.000-08:00

Sitting here thinking of the theme to that old tv show MASH - the name of it was "Suicide is painless'. Whom ever wrote it didn't know beans. Suicide is painless for whom? Certainly not those left behind, and I don't think it was for the folks who arrive at the conclusion that it's better than breathing.
The events of the past week have placed Death at the front of my mind. Although, clearly these particular two death's shouldn't effect me directly, or as much to parties related, it does effect me. The first death, that of my friend, is just sad. I could always rely on MC to either make me laugh or point out why I should get my head up out of my tush. That is when he wasn't trying to marry me off to some 89 year old retired coalminer or someone else he knew would 'take care of ' me. It was a running joke with us. Even when his health no longer permitted him to be in chat any length of time, I would recieve emails and IMs from him. I will miss the companionship he offered me. I am friends with the woman he loved and my heart aches for her loss.
The second death, the suicide, angers me. As I've stated before, I didn't even like the guy. There had been several occassions when we had toed off, and I said, "you want to hit someone? Bring it." I'm small in stature, but am sure I prove more of a challange then a small child. Personally, I am ok with the fact that he is dead - it's that he chose to take his own life that bothers me. It angers me that he would opt to put innocents through this last ordeal. Of course the blame game has begun, with many pointing towards my roommate - after all SHE divorced him! Blah blah blah - yeah she is sooo wrong to have left someone who beat her kid so that she could try and get them back from the State. Oh yeah, she is a rotten bitch for putting her kids first in her life. Of course they claim that wasn't the reason at all, but that he had become ill and was dieing that she left. Damn, get a clue, people.
But even without that second scenario, seeing how tortured Mary is by his action forces me into a role. In order to aid her coming to terms, I must revisit my own haunted past, and relive the pain, the anguish, all those questions without answers. She knows I speak from experiance, when I say, "There is life after death- you as a survivor learn to live without them."
I too, had been accused of 'murdering' my son, by his father's family. Even at the funeral his Grandmother asked me what I had done to drive him to it. In grief it is human nature to blame
someone or something, especially when it comes to suicide. Folks have a hard time accepting that even the departed is 'blameless' in a way - they have gone past the point of hope and logical reasoning. They can not see beyond themselves, those of us left , question ourselves - are we somehow to blame?
I've been spending long hours, just listening, of just being in the same room so that she knows she isn't alone. Hours of being 'on', cracking jokes one second - holding her tight the next, and hiding the fact that I am becoming extremely drained.
On my advice, she will tell the boys tonight at their counselor's office, so that she may be on hand to help the boys accept this. We're all agreed that given the circumstances, they don't need to know that he hung himself. There is such a thing as too much truth and knowledge.
I wish I had some majik words, or could be a better shield, but all I can really do is attest to the fact there is life after death. You learn to go on again.

Tea with Death

2008-01-22T14:05:00.000-08:00

The passing of someone we hold dear is never easy - friend, family, even a close co-worker. I'm no stranger to Death, nor the many masks he wears. I know it can come suddenly, without warning, or be as a cat with a mouse. I have seen death to be brutal, I have also seen it to be a very gentle and merciful sleep.
Of course Death is really only cruel to those left behind with our memories. The departed- well no one knows for certain how their fate plays out. Some say they go on to a higher plane, some claim reincarnation, and others say that's the end. The only certain thing, is the rest of us are left to deal with the reality that this person is gone from our daily lives.
Earlier this week, a dear chat friend logged off for the last time. The news of his passing grieved me. Then last night, my roomie's exhusband (of nearly a week) committed suicide. Two polar opposites in my world. I did not care for her husband at all. In fact, he is one of the very few mortals of this world, I deemed worthy of intense dislike. Yet, I see her hurt over his action, and I feel great sadness. I also feel the urgent need to be there for her. It's ok to mourn over what they had once had, and for the man he had once been. It isn't easy to coincile those memories with the fact that the jerk he became is now gone. Only she can't shoulder responsibilty for his action. That is the key in a suicide, realizing not only in your mind, but in your heart, that you were not responsible. If a person is bent on dieing, there is really nothing you can do for them, other then be there for them, and pray it is enough. Unfortunatley, for those who succeed in the deed, love is never enough, because they do not love themselves enough to survive.
Suicide is something I have had to deal with personally, and untangling the myrad of emotions one goes through is difficult at best. The hardest part is not making it about yourself, and accepting the blame. I think that's the worst part of being human - we always want someone or something to blame for that action, instead of the one person who really was responsible and able to avoid it - the suicide themselves.
Time and again, I am forced to face my own demons on this subject. It leaves me weary and drained. But if I must visit that time in my life to help another, then I will.

Ahhhh-choo!

2008-01-11T13:42:00.000-08:00

Here we are, winding up the first week of the new year - I'm just getting over a bout of flu-like symptoms. I was sick enough to miss 3 days of work, and was sent home twice to 'get better'. The weather is not helping, it's anywhere from wind chills of 25 below to 68 degrees F. No one is sure of how to dress for the day. Everyone is coming down with something, and I guess I am no exception.
I suffer from chills, and seem to stay tired. My joints ache. Oh, well - what else does one expect when the temperatures yo-yo about like they do?
I haven't even been on the internet much, due to the lack of energy. I just have no 'ooomph'.
Mary surprized me with several new skeins of yarn last night. All of them in pastel colours. Five in all, each a different colour, not being a crocheter, she doesn't realize that most projects, like a sweater, takes at least 2 skeins - but that doesn't matter. All that really matters, is I was thought of. I think I will incorporate them into a house-jacket of sorts. One to help me ward off the chill, but not be as burdensome as a robe. I can see it in my head, done in alternating stripes and popcorn stitching, with deep pockets. Sortof a cardigan - that should keep me busy for quite a while. I can add any left over to the granny squares I am making for a future afghan.
I've been allowing myself to dream a bit, here and there. With hour cuts looming on the horizon, I know I need to get either another part time job, or better would be a full time one. However without a car, that is seemingly impossible. As soon as they learn you are at the mercy of the bus system they act like you've confessed to being a junkie and don't hire you. The solution of course is to get another car. Much esier said then done. I can't afford any monthly payments. So I am hoping for a decent tax return. I think I can buy a decent used car for 2 or 3 thousand.
So in my head the scenario goes something like, good used car and a dream job. Of course somewhere in there I meet Mr. Wonderful and live the rest of my days happily ever after. Heck it's my imagination so why not shoot for the works? Besides it keeps me from becoming too depressed.

2007-12-24T06:08:00.000-08:00

It's been awhile since I've written... or even been online. Work hours have been long, and the weather tiring. We haven't had much snow, but the temps and wind have been very much winter. Yesterday morn, with a temp of 12 F I donned lots of layers; thermals, 2 pairs of sweat pants, the dress pants for work, a thermal long sleeve, the white dress shirt, and that, oh so impressive red vest ( yuck), and a heavy fisherman-weave sweater. Before pulling on my coat, I decided to weigh myself for laughs - the clothing I had on weighed 20 pounds!
I run another quick check on local weather, as I play make -a-mummy with my scarf, wrapping it about my face and neck - wind chill negative 6... winds 63 - 68 mph. Oh fun... I pull my woolen cap low on my head and don the coat, tieing the hood beneath my chin like a child. I pick up my bag and sling the strap over my opposing shoulder so that it runs diagonally across my chest. I have found this the most efficient carrying method of the large gym-type sack, preventing slippage and leaving my hands and arms free. Once I've pulled on my gloves, the only part of my body still visible visible is my eyes.
The wind is wicked, searching any opening in my layers to nip at the skin. By the time I reach the bridge, I am shivering, and my scarf feels damp. Snow is falling, those tiny grain like flakes, that sting , and the wind pelts them against me. I lower my head and try not to think about how much farther it is. It is there, on Memorial Bridge, without the benifit of buildings to buffet the wind some, that I am hit full force. Even with the scarf, and lowered head, the wind snatches my breath and I am forced to walk almost doubled over by it, and at an angle. I am quite literally being blown along by the wind, a metal clattering is heard as a sign goes air borne, torn from the pavement. I struggle to remain on my feet and use the the railing for support. I realize I can't even see the stone lady that awaits me at the end of the bridge, visibility is less then 3 feet. The grainy snow is falling fast and furious, but it too is at the wind's mercy and can't accumulate much. The walk across the bridge seems an eternity, but finally I reach the buildings and some relief from its force. I finally reach work, only to find the locks frozen shut. I take out my lighter and heat my key some, and manage to finally make it inside. The sign at the bank declared that it is now 14 degrees out. Oh goodie, a heat wave!
Despite the weather folks were still out trying to do holiday shopping. What is it about Christmas that makes people SO stupid? Honestly - will someone die if you don't have candy on hand? And if that toy was so vital why are you waiting until NOW to go get it? This is Illinois, people, were weather is traditionally crappy for the Holidays! Get with the programme for pity sakes! Or stop your whinning and learn to cope!
Joey , our daily cop, stops in and asks if I walked to work. He shakes his head, and tells me if he isn't on a call when I get off, he'll 'express' me home, that means by squad with lights on. The wind is strong enough, he tells me, that it is trying to lift the squad up off the road. Lots of trees and signs are being torn up by it. It is his sworn duty to 'protect and serve the people, he winks and says, "Hate to tell ya kiddo, but you are a 'people'. "
Mary, and her boys did come and get me though. YAY!
I am overly excited, because Jess will be home sometime today. Christmas Eve - our Christmas Day by tradition. Even when the kids were small, after the divorce, Santa would come early evening to our house. It saved alot of grief that way as their dad's family has a big todo Christmas Day. Of course it got a bit easier, when they got older and knew that Mom is directly related to Santa. I no longer had to pretend that I saw someone messing with my car and 'found' all these toys left by him in it. Or dream up some scheme to keep them busy in another part of the house, while I stuffed presents under the tree. Of course there was the time, he left everything in the bathroom doorway - ditched there quickly when Mother's ears heard tiny footsteps coming from the other direction, and we all stood gaped mouth, surmising that he must have been bring them and hearing us vanished in a hurry. I do sortof miss those days. but it is much easier on me now.
Merry Christmas, Everbody!

The Accident

2007-12-08T06:16:00.000-08:00

Sunday, December 2nd, was cold, so I had dressed in multiple layers for my trek to and from work. The night before our weather had been a mix of rain and snow, ending with an ice storm, the walk that normally takes me 30-40 minutes took me almost 2 hours to navigate. However, Sunday the trek to work was uneventful, as well as my shift. I was coming home, hands shoved deep in my pockets, as the wind seemed to cut through my gloves. I remember reaching up to pull my cap down lower on my head, and to draw the hood strings of the coat tighter, as I stood on the curb waiting for the light to change. Shifting my weight from foot to foot and readjusting the scarf around my face. Finally, the little guy on the walk sign came on, I glanced both ways before starting across.
I saw the dark Buick coming from my left, but down aways - I remember thinking, 'he's not slowing down' , I don't recall much after that. Some witnesses say that I appeared to try and jump out of the way - some say I was thrown upwards about 3 feet, either way I landed rather hard on his hood and windshield. The doctors think all those layers I was wrapped in may have saved me from serious injury. I do remember begging them not to cut my coat but to unzip it.
I'm told , that when help arrived, I was talking to the driver of the car, asking him if he was ok, and telling him to stay still, until checked out. I vaguely recall being afraid he'd been cut by broken glass. I could smell blood - I just didn't realize the blood was mine at the time.
Xrays showed no broken bones. Except for some bruising , and minor cuts on my face I'm fine.
I was kept overnight for observation, and told to 'take it easy' for a few days.
Personally, I don't know if it was all the layers of clothing I had on, or angel's wings that kept me safe, but I'm sure glad this guy had insurance.
The driver was a small old man, whom refused to leave the hospital until he saw for himself that I was alright. I think seeing the IV in my hand scared him. But, now days, an IV is very normal. This guy was so old, I think his license may have been one of the first ever issued. As loopy as I was on pain killers, I tried to smile at him, and ease some of the fear from his face. A cop lurked nearby. Again this is normal for this type of incident. They can't be sure how anyone will react. I patted his hand and said something like, 'I make a lousy hood ornament'. Then asked him if he was alright. I drifted in and out of sleep, not really sure if I had seen him or not.

Attack of the pumpkin

2007-11-08T08:32:00.000-08:00

For Halloween, I had been given a 30 pound pumpkin to carve. It turned out so well, we used it as part of our indoor decor, but yesterday, being trashday, I decided that it had to go out to the curb.
I was ready to leave for my trek to work, purse slung over my shoulder, jacket on, and pumpkin in hand, when it happened... Opening the door I began navigating my way down the stairs, which are very steep and designed for mountain goats, when I swear that pumpkin leapt from my arms! It hurtled against the bottom foyer door with a bang that caused my downstairs neighbor to come running, calling out if I was alright! Pumpkin was everywhere! All over the floor, the walls, the stairs, and yours truly. The only whole piece was its evil grin which mocked me in the cleanup.
Wiping rotting pumpkin from my face , I assured her I was indeed alright, as she reached out and pulled a bit from my hair. Two rolls of paper towels, and soapy water later, I was headed back out for work. Because I ran ( ok I don't actually run, it's more of a lope - faster than a jog , slower then a sprint) part of the way, I made it to work on time - barely.
Standing next to me, Florence delicatley sniffed. Then sniffed again. I ask, with concern if she is coming down with a cold. At almost 80 years of age, a cold is cause for concern. "No, but do you smell pumpkin?"

2007-10-26T06:34:00.000-07:00

I can't seem to shake this feeling of waiting for the second shoe to drop. Past few days, someone has been making death threats via the phone to me. I think I know who it is, so I called the hospital and talked to the main desk in the psych ward , who transferred me to the doctor for the person I suspect. I'm told that they can block this number. They may just take away his phone privilages.
In Ronnie's twisted mind, he would have reason to hate me. In his world, I am keeping Mary from him. I am the one who intervened when he was beating her up. I am the one 'filling her head with nonsense' that anyone who pounds on you isn't good to be with. In short I am the obstacle, remove me and you have access. Of course that's only in his universe.
Somehow, I don't think that is the source of this feeling, but it could be a contributing factor. I really don't know what I think is going to happen...I only know I have this sense of foreboding... and it isn't very comforting.

Early AM

2007-10-24T03:17:00.000-07:00

The insistent ringing of the phone woke me...geeze, not even 5 am, I thought glancing at the clock and feeling that dread calls at that hour bring - they are never good. My roommate's tearful, scared voice fills my ear. She's at work, getting punched in, but has seen a text message on her cell that scares her. It's from the ex boyfriend, stating that he is parked in front of our house and he has taken 150 sleeping pills. The time on the call is 2:30 AM...she's called the cops.
Ironically, it is not really fear for him that drives her call, but for me. We have an order of protection against the guy. She's terrified that it's a ploy to get one of us to come to his car.
Earlier the previous day, he had been calling her saying that he was going to kill himself if she didn't come back to him. At one point I heard her tell him, "You're drunk and talking stupid. I can't talk to you." She then hung up and told me what was going on.
My advice was to call the cops. A suicide threat, even from a drunk is to be taken seriously. I looked at her over my cup of evening coffee, it was around 7pm, "Mary, calling the cops is our best bet. If he does do something stupid and we do nothing how will you feel? This way, they'll take him in and he'll at least get evaluated. You know that boy isn't right. He needs help."
She looks at me and says maybe she should meet with him. I ask her if she is stupid. We've an order of protection because he beat her up before. This could be just a ploy. So we call the non emergency number and tell them what we can. Unfortunately the call came from a cell phone, and we have no home address. The guy is basically homeless. He had been attempting to move in with us, and I had been adamant that he could not. There was just something about him that set off red flags in my head. Let alone the fact that Mary is still going through a divorce , and I figure he's 'rebound' guy.
In response to Mary's current call, I look out my bedroom window, which faces the street. There sits the junker of a station wagon... if the call was made at 2:30 AM then Mary had to have seen it when she left at 4:30 for work. I can see uniformed officers looking in the car. Mary asks me to call her back. I watch from the window. A silent rescue squad pulls up. I see them load Ronnie onto a gurney. There isn't a body bag, and the sheet isn't pulled up. But as the squad pulls away, there is no siren, just lights.
I wait a bit and call the non emergency number, whom refers me to the hospital. The hospital wants to know if I am family. I fib a bit saying I'm the one he called with the threat. I just want to know if he was reached in time. I'm told they are pumping his stomache and will then admit him to the main hospital. Obviously it will be the psych ward for him. Which, in my opinion is where he belonged to start with.

Poison Pen Letter

2007-10-23T10:50:00.000-07:00

I don't think I will ever understand why some feel obliged to take advantage of others. Just like I will never understand how bullies can justify what they do. Or why some choose to follow someone obviously not in their right minds. Or why some folks feel the need to be manipulative and controlling. There's a lot of things I just don't understand, but then, maybe to quote my Mom, I should just 'count my blessings', because in order to truly understand the act, I would need to be capable of the act.
The other night, I received my first official poison pen letter. When the first line reads, "you are a g*d damn Mother f*cking c*nt Jew loving whore" you can be pretty sure it isn't a left handed compliment. The email continued in the same complimentary way being pretty much a thinly veiled threat against me- and the radio station. The jerk didn't even sign it and used another email. But a quick check of the ISP told me who it was. Of course my knee-jerk reaction is to retaliate. Then I realized that is what this bozo wanted. So I clicked delete instead, because what would I be retaliating against, really? Someone expressing a rather sad opinion because they said 'jump' and I said no? This person obviously doesn't even know me very well...first I can't be a m-fer because I am not a lesbian nor into incest. C*nt...well I do have one... "Jew lover'' I will plead guilty to. I love Jesus and He was born a Jew, and while I do not know many Jews, those I do know have never been anything but nice to me. So basically all that email boiled down to was a collection of perverse grammar and awful syntax. A rather sad attempt at character assassination, in an attempt to gain manipulation and control - of what exactly I'm not sure. All I know is it showed me that this person is a rather sad pathetic individual, who really needs professional help.
As my one friend would say, "well there's some more drama you don't need." In this case, I would have to agree. Life comes with its own built in drama without me looking for more, Lord knows. I think my best retaliation against this 'assassin' is to do what I have always done, be the best dj I know how to be, and to continue offering my hand in friendship to all peoples.

So you want to visit a haunted house?

2007-10-13T07:59:00.000-07:00

It's coming...with witches, spooks, haints, and long legged beasties that go bump in the night. Don'tcha just love Halloween? Of course, there is always the trip through Trespauze Mansion , my virtually haunted domain. It's such a labyrinth, that even I get lost in there. Becareful the ghosties don't catch you, or that you get abducted by aliens!
I see Caravan Radio is looking for spooky stories to tell for Halloween night. mwahahahahaha ( that's my evil cackle, guys) let's send them a few, hmmmm? Sortof cyber treats for that big night. There's something delightful about the chill tingling your spine, that accompanies a well wrought tale. Of course pretend scared is much more fun then real scared. Real scares are a whole 'nother thing.
If you like to read scary stories, I do recommend Tales To Chill You , you can read the classics as well as new stuff and things submitted by folks like you. Some are true stories, and others fantastic flights of fantasy. Of course you may visit my tomb there.

I not afraid of no bogeyman

2007-10-11T08:42:00.000-07:00

I feel an odd bubble in my chest today. It takes me a while to recognize it- happiness. What I'm happy about isn't clear, and I guess it really doesn't matter. Perhaps it's simply that I slept well for the first time in months last night. Maybe it was the dream I had, or just that it's not in my nature to be down for very long. I'm not going to question it. Just enjoy it.

Happiness is a lot like having swallowed a bite of sunshine. You can feel it glowing and lighting you up from the inside. Making everything outside of you all golden and ...well brighter.

It's real fall weather outside, they say the high will be 58 and the low 38, so I'll have to dress in layers for work. That 3 mile walk can get quite chilly, but I can admire nature's handy work as I cross over the river.

Either end of the bridge is flanked by stone women in mourning, they truly set off the view of the river. The trees are becoming ablaze with colours, and the river is becoming darker. Crossing the river is my halfway mark. Sometimes, I will press myself into a recess at the foot of a stone woman for a moment and shelter there, just long enough to catch my breath from the elements. It's not very effective for rain, but she does block the wind rather well, or offer some shade in heat. I am sure this lee from wind was accidental - a large person simply wouldn't fit, and I've not seen one of the homeless emerge from there. If there is some type of shelter, the homeless usually know it. So at least for now, or unless the city some how changes it, it is as if it was put there just for me, to aid me on these long treks back and forth. After the seering heat, the crisp Autumn air is most welcomed.

Maybe today will be a lucky day for me. Not too thrilled about walking home, through some dark areas. But if someone is closing with me, perhaps I can get a ride home.

Actually, I don't mind the dark at all, and in the cold weather not even boogeymen come out to annoy. Hmmm, who'd have thought the boogeyman didn't like the cold? Still, I may get a small flashlight to carry with me. Simply if for no other reason, I don't like the idea of tripping over my own feet and ending up face down on the sidewalk. We'll see...

I hate the fact that most of the street lights , this side of the river are on timers. At least they could install some sensors or something, so they'd click on as you approached. Oh well...life is just one big adventure, I guess. Just hope that kid down the street doesn't leave his bike across the sidewalk again...otherwise he may wake up to find it somewhere weird. I wonder if I'm strong enough to carry it up a tree? Blame it on the squirrels...lol

Life - an Impromptu show

2007-10-08T07:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a particularly emotional day for me. You see, my son would have been 26. Actually, I did fairly well most of the day.I managed to pretend that everything was fine and business as usual, even though the date on the calendar was like a mental slap for me. My daughter called late in the evening to see how I was taking it. She too felt that odd sadness. She asked if I was djing and if maybe I could dedicate a song to him. I pulled the song into the que, and click the talk button...damn...even I can hear the tears in my voice...so I keep it short and simple, anxious not to break down on air, but wanting and needing to do this simple thing, that seems suddenly as difficult as any obstacle course I've ran. Elton sings about a candle in the wind, and I am telling myself that I can not change nor alter this. I need to suck it up and move on. Yeah..it was a sad, hurtful thing, but it belongs to the past, the pain shouldn't feel so fresh and new. Truth is life doesn't play fair. No matter, what you may feel or think in that moment, there are those who have survived much worse. Besides, as the saying goes, "the show must go on." Isn't that all Life really is? An impromptu show.
Memories wouldn't let me sleep last night. I know I dozed and dreamt of him. Odd dreams, that only leave that cobweb residue behind on waking. You know the subject but no details.
It strikes me odd, that I cry now, but stood dry eyed at his funeral. Some whispered that I was a rock..some that I was an unfeeling bitch...I think sometimes, hurt goes so deep as to be an echo in the soul. You either shatter, or you withstand it. Perhaps, I have finally healed enough for the tears to come to the surface. As I said before life doesn't play fair, and we've no script to follow. All we can do is the best we can, change what we can, and accept that which we can not change. That last bit there, that is the hardest thing of all. I know first hand, even in the accepting, the pain doesn't go away. Sometimes, it slumbers, but it is always there.
However, today is a new day, and the skies are blue. The leaves are turning all crimson and gold. It's unseasonably warm, and I can hear small children laughing at play. Fall is upon us and with it comes the children of children I use to know. "Can you make me costume, like you use to for my mommy/daddy?" I smile and am warmed by the memory of another little child who use to say, "Mommy, can you make me?"

On the October Wind

2007-10-07T20:54:00.000-07:00

Thoughts of you tumble, like the leaves before the wind.
Memories caper
they dance, dip and glide
like small bits of paper
as the October wind blows.
In it I hear my name called low,
is it your voice, just the slightest whisper?
Or a stray rumbling from the sky?
I brush an errant tear from my eye.
Hunch my shoulders and walk on.
The mantle of remembering heavy today.
There will be no cake, no candles.
No presents to open.
Not today, never more.
I know that.
Forever you will be 20.
That's where the story ends -
no happily ever after,
20 is when Death closed the door.
But he can not close my mind,
and it is there you I still find.
And so today at river's edge,
I sang it to the wind.
Perhaps he will carry it,
beyond where mortals tread,
and you will hear Birthday rememberance
upon the October wind.

I miss you, Joshu.
Love, Mom

Junk or Memories?

2007-09-26T06:20:00.000-07:00

My landlord called that he would be doing a property check today, in preparation for the city's health and safety check next week. Which means, my roommate was introduced to anal-about-clean Val, and her boyfriend got introduced to how to clean the bathroom. Hey, he is the one who has the bad aim, NOT us. I figure he's here enough that I should be making him share the rent with us. But, then I'd probably have to let him actually stay here - and that's not going to happen. So - I put the boy to work. I am CLEANING, the inspector coming is equivalent to the Queen of England stopping by for tea. Strike that, the Inspector is way more stressful. His job is to be picky, and to report any breach of code. Trust me, if so inclined he could find something to report, even if this was the White House.
I have to admit, my room is the worse room in the apartment. It's such a jumble that you become overwhelmed by the task before you can even start. More of a storage room then bedroom, really. Now before you start passing judgement, there is something you should know... The bedroom itself is not large, maybe 16'x20', which is a decent size, however my desk , a massive oak teacher's desk from 1942 dominates one whole wall. The opposing wall is lined by the daybed. Walls to either side - dressers and entertainment center. Actually it isn't a bad room, except for the fact, I have too much stuff in it. Of course, since there is no real storage (2 small closets) things I had kept of my son's ended up in my room. Hence two Samurai swords hang above my bed. There is also a large plastic container under the bed, holding those things from his life that possibly only a Mom could understand their worth to me. There are also some things that were my Mom's. With the passing of my father, more stuff was added. Things, to send off to various siblings, things to keep, and things I have no idea what to do with, as they're still in boxes to be gone through. Then with Mary's arrival, Jess's things had to go somewhere. Can you guess where? Stuffed animal's grace a chair and my bed. Porcelain dolls stare down at me from shelves on one of the dressers. Her dresser cuddles next to my own. A plastic box containing high school souvenirs wrestles for room under my bed. Of course there is the crowning glory of having the litter box also in my room. That in itself is not too bad. However it is rather large ( 3 cats large) and takes up even more space. Rather easy to understand why it is such a daunting task. Every surface holds scads of 'treasures'... I sigh, face it I do not have a bedroom, I have a flippin' museum. So the bulk of yesterday was spent with my attempting to bring some order to the chaos.
Mary peers around the door frame and utters , "Oh my gawd! There IS a bedroom in here, with a floor!" I flick the dust cloth at her.
It would be nice if I could spread this stuff out some, but the living room and kitchen are even smaller,and whereas I can always close my bedroom door, I can't really keep folks that come over from the other areas. I suppose one day, I will be strong enough to let some of these things go. But for now, I lightly touch an object and remember days gone by.

Ploys, rip=offs, and Common Sense

2007-09-22T07:21:00.000-07:00

When I first sat down here, I had what I thought was a brilliant idea for a post. How ever MSN Explorer decided to shut down on me twice. They claim I need an 'upgrade' which of course you need a credit card for. Hmmm...if I have to pay then that is not a program 'upgrade', that is a purchase. Just another ploy to milk folks of more money. Acts like this tick me off, of course by the time I've switched browsers and gotten back on, my 'brilliant' idea had evaporated, and all I really want to do is spray that stupid butterfly.
What is it with big corporations thinking it's ok to screw the working Joe /Jane? I'm not talking just non-essential corporations like Internet providers or Cable TV either, but one's like heating and electric. Another one I see running rampant is car/health insurance. It's fairly easy to see why we are quickly becoming a nation of working poor. And, good Lord, will someone please break out a economy sized bottle of Common Sense and stop the awarding large amounts of money in lawsuits that are stupid to begin with? Take that woman a few years back, who tucked a cup of hot coffee between her legs while driving and got burned. Obviously she lacks the ability to know the difference between hot and cold but she sues the fast food chain she bought it at and wins?!? Or the ones that sue tobacco companies because daddy died from cancer caused by smoking 4 packs a day. Do families who have members die from drug over doses sue their dealers? Was the cigarette company in question giving this guy free smokes?
Stupidity should not be rewarded. Ignorant lawsuits of this type only serve to act like dominoes, forcing the corporations to recoup monies lost by raising prices, which ulimately forces the cost of a loaf of bread to rise too. In short, those big corporations that are sued, aren't the ones paying that settlement - we are .

On Scmendricks

2007-09-20T06:46:00.000-07:00

I just read over in Nomad's blog ( see under Here I go awandering list) how he gets persecuted by some moron for being Jewish. I do know that from time to time he gets hate mail as well. This sickens me. This same jerk is obviously ignorant of the fact that Jesus Christ , Himself was a Jew. So if you hate all Jews, how can you love Jesus? Idiots who hate blindly are NOT Christian.
When I was younger, around 18 or so, it was my pleasure to become the acquaintance of Levi Horowitz, God rest his soul. I was doing research on the Holocaust and someone had pointed him out to me as being a survivor. I will admit, I was then and still am ignorant of many of the Jewish customs, being a goi (non-Jew), and many of my views were not formed by actual people but from books and TV. The Holocaust, itself is an emotional painful subject, and difficult to broach. For many who were there, a past they do not wish to revisit. However Levi did consent to speak with me, and for many long hours I sat listening to him, often he would insert Yiddish words and I would have to stop him and inquire what it meant. To my surprise at the end of the interview I was invited back. As time passed, we would discuss the differences in our beliefs, over latkes ( a type of pancake) and kawe (coffee). I don't recall our ever arguing over these differences. The day he introduced me as his adopted plimenize ( niece) to some friends, still brings a certain warmth to my heart. I still laugh when I remember cornering him away from them and whispering "I'm your what?" How he laughed then. Years passed, and even though my path often sent me far away, I always knew my 'feter' (uncle) was just a call away.
I miss him, but I do know what he would say to Nomad, " Don't let the schmendriks and klutzs of the world get to you. Stand proud and lead by example."
I wonder if the world at large, will ever grow up enough to realize that to hate blindly, any group, is truly the most unforgivable sin.

Blogs and Life

2007-09-19T10:08:00.000-07:00

When I first started this blog, well the original one, it was at the insistence of Bigdawg Radio. They had asked all of us Djs too, if I remember correctly. Then when we emerged as Caravan Radio, I deleted the old one and started a new one. It seemed logical to me. All the best elements were going on a musical journey, leaving behind things, beyond our control that were broken. Nomad would lead us, and he is one of the best that I know. A lovable guy loaded with talent. We also have Rogue, with his deep 'radio announcer' voice, Hippiechick with common sense and homespun ways ( her show always makes me feel like I 'visited' ) , Luna - whom you can't be real sure what you will hear played until she plays it, and is a darn good web designer. We were joined by two new talents Nelle ( who's nicknamed lalala by several of us lol) and Foxerina out of Belgium. I can't forget to mention Ice Queen , who is on hiatus due to a broken computer. She lives way up there by Santa Clause , in Labrador. We hope she gets to come back soon. I'm told we have even more talent lined up to join us in this venture. I can hardly wait to meet them. One day, maybe, we will have enough to have live djs 24/7... wouldn't that be something?
Yes, we are a small station - at the moment, but we will grow. Like a seedling, we'll push forth and raise our tiny sprout to the sun to become a mighty oak. It won't happen over night. To think it will is more than silly. ( Yeah, yeah I know our mascot is the Camel - but that doesn't illustrate my point very well- I should say- like a young camel we will sprout mighty humps!????)
Me? Well, you already know, or you probably wouldn't be reading this blog. But, I am Val , Caravan's country gal dj. It amazes me to be told I have 'a sexy voice', because personally I think I sound like Minnie Mouse on helium. I try to play everything from Country gold to Hot new country. And like all our djs, whatever the listeners request.
Anyway, my original intention with this blog was to write all kinds of upbeat, funny things and the goings on at Caravan Radio. Perhaps touch on a few aspects of life that folks can relate to, and spread a lil sunshine. Maybe - be a bit inspirational to someone out there. I don't know... original intent and life don't always coincide I guess. Some of what I write may be disturbing, or dark. It may even make you angry. I have never had a problem standing up for other folks, be it either verbally, or sometimes to the point of getting physical. I can be 10 feet tall and bullet proof. But when it comes down to myself... well, that's a whole different thing I guess. I'm no martyr by any means. But there comes a time, when even the smallest of barbs become harpoons lodged in the heart, and all the small stuff of Life grows razor sharp teeth and you are bushwacked by overwhelming odds. Suddenly that insgnificant mole hill is Mt. Everest. I think that happens to alot of folks... it's rarely a large traumatic event that snaps a person but a lowly pothole in Life's path. Some folks solve it with booze, or pills. Some cut themselves. Some have been known to simply shoot others literally. I have decided to write. In the past, I have been taken to task over some of my writings, because I unwittingly hurt an innocent, I even deleted several blogs and journals. But I have decided to try and defuse by writing, and I am sorry, if what I say here hurts someone else. Or they don't like what they read. I took a long hard look at my life, and maybe it is not an idyllic one, but it is mine. I've decided that it is worth more then a few disjointed noses. I have never and will never, purposely hurt another being, except for myself. And those days my friend, are over. So fasten your seat belts and don a crash helmet. There is no telling what may appear here.

Right After That Rock

2007-09-18T07:50:00.000-07:00

Some days, even though the sun caresses me, and a warm breeze kisses my cheek, I still shiver and pull the cloak of memories tighter around me. Taking comfort from things past to warn off the pain of now. Attempting to talk of it rarely helps, because few either can or will try to see the whole picture - they seem to think 'in the moment', and can not understand how 1 +1 can equal 3. Or for what ever reason they twist it to be about themselves... You are 'upset' or 'angry' at THEM. It doesn't matter how you try to explain - it's always the 'wrong' time, and they can't 'get into it at this time'. Truth be told, I figure 99% of the world just doesn't want to hear or cares. But then, I don't think I really WANT that 99% to know anything. They will just use whatever they can at another point in time to try and hurt you anyway. Or, God forbid - pity you. I never could stand being pitied.
Now, there is a truth for you, most folks are users of others. They'll be your friend until you can no longer 'do' for them , until they can no longer benifit from your friendship materialisticly Then they cut ties and run. This is true, whether at work in the real world or on the net. I happen to have a knack for creating pages and graphics, and to do programming in a way. That is how to make programs work in places they shouldn't. I'm self taught, so I guess not knowing that some things should NOT work, enables me to sidestep and make it work. I really don't mind sharing how to do these things. I truly believe that knowledge not shared is pretty useless. Quite often, I get asked to help out other groups or webdesigners, and I'm happy to. Often, I don't even recieve any credit, and even though that hurts a bit, I figure its par for the course. But when someone tells me that I will get credit, or that they won't use a certain thing but send folks into my group, then sneak behind my back and do it - well that hurts. It's bad enough when someone copies and imitates you, after a point it becomes down right irrating . But when they lie to do it, go behind your back and to lengths to try and hurt you to help themselves...well then I just get angry.
One of my pet peeves is when someone expresses unhappiness over a situation and gets told, " I knew you would react like this." Then why did they do it? Obviously your feelings meant nothing from the get go, or they would have approached you first and said " here's the deal - this is what we're going to do and I just want you to be ok with it." I mean you KNOW they will do it anyway, but at least you don't feel like it was done behind your back. Like your feelings don't amount to a hill of beans. Of course after the fact, there are platitudes and 'talks', but these just leave you feeling as if you are 'wrong' to express anything negative, or other then what they want to hear. Hells Bells why call yourself my friend and say I matter when I obviously don't?
So naturally, you try and withdraw, go to your own little corner and heal. But will they let you be? No they seek you out in order to twist the knife a bit more. Don't expect an "I'm sorry you see it that way," or the real culprit to admit any guilt - EVER. The culprit will hide under a guise of not understanding, I can garuntee that. Instead they try and act if you are in the wrong and causing a problem. The one actually doing things is treated like the 'victim' and YOU , my friend, are the bad guy.
Add this to the stress some of us face in everyday life - utilities shut off, jobs that are a joke, and if it wasn't for the fact you need to live off it, you'd laugh at your paycheck, and a multitude of things that are just not going right... Well, the stress can reach a dangerous level, and begin to create some scary thoughts, while Life does a tap dance on your spleen. It gets bad enough and you end up in the hospital under suicide watch and does anyone care? Of course are you going to wave a red flag over it? No you reach out, wanting someone to ask you if your ok and get told "I don't have time for this." Or they try to make your actions totally about something else. And these are your 'friends' folks you thought would know and love you enough to recognize you aren't being 'you'. Instead of finding comfort and support - you are made to feel worse and even more alone. Oh yeah you matter right after that rock over there. Or if I'm not dealing with something ( which is everything/anything else) more important then you.
So you set out to prove that you ARE part of the 'team', that you don't harbor any grudges and throw a big bash to help support another's project. You even talk about it before doing so to be sure it's a good idea to do so, because in order to garner some free advertizing you have to go about it a bit left handed. You even make sure everyone involved gets invitations, so no one will feel left out. You think it can be one big kiss and makeup session... instead another decides to throw a bash too, and claims to have had no idea you were doing the same ( or so the grapevine says- but you more or less expected it from this corner. The same grapevine advises you that they are telling folks they really shouldn't bother with yours as they are having their own.) You hear that you are only trying to steal the 'thunder' of this other project, and that you should be happy for this other person. In short with very few exceptions, the folks you were trying to help most act like you are a total bitch. The fact that you held out an olive branch and it was slapped away carries no weight. The fact it has happened time and again, I guess shouldn't matter. In their eyes the past shouldn't count I guess. But I whisper to myself that most don't and won't get it. And they never will...why? Because I am Val and I matter right after that rock over there.

PARTY TIME!

2007-09-02T12:54:00.000-07:00

I can hardly wait! 3 Paws Saloon has been around for over 7 years now, so we decided to have a cyber reunion, and what better time then to coincide with the grand opening of Caravan Radio? We hope to attract not just those nics from bygone days, but also new ones as well. That's right, for that weekend we will be opened 24/7 for a nonstop party.
Since we have members from all over the globe, a 24/7 seems the only answer. One day, I may have enough man power to have the chat hosted 24/7 all the time, but for now we're mostly evenings.
I wonder who'll come to the reunion? Would be great to see the co-founders again ; amshykat, and wildweasel. In the past 7 years, we've weathered many changes, most forced on us through changes made by MSN where we started at. Who'd have thought that no matter what the butterfly threw at us, we'd still be standing? We went from free public chat, to pay chat only, to a 'public' chat in groups, to no chat at all, until we moved to Sparkpea. Now, that tiny little room that started on the corner of peers chat in MSN, stands on the corner of peers again having gone full circle. Only now it also carries a community room, 3 Paws Saloon Attic, still over in MSN's groups. It's a place we go to play games, watch movies, and post messages when we aren't chatting. Judging by it's members we have fun.
Anyway, hope to see ya'll at the reunion!

Autumnal Change

2007-09-01T09:13:00.000-07:00

The change is upon us. Mother Nature has broken out her paintbox again to alter the canvas to golds, reds, and browns. A crispness has pervaded the air. Everything is having one last fling readying for the long winter's sleep.

I feel the shift in myself too. A quiet kind of sadness - a homesickness rising within me. But it isn't for a place, it's for a person. Fall - when my son first came forth into this world. I remember carrying him as a baby, showing him all the pretty colours. Five years later, we were joined by his sister. We would go exploring as they grew, along woodland scapes, and I would tell them the lore, told me by my Mother. Fanciful tales, like why the fox's tail is tipped in white, or stories about the fairy rings. Useful things too, how a toadstool differs from a mushroom, that moss only gross on the north side of a tree, and what is safe to eat. How to track, and how to fish without the fancy poles and such. How to make a leanto and build a campfire... So many memories evoked by the stroke of Nature's brush.

Five years ago, my son left this earth... my daughter is now a young woman with her own life.

But sometimes, in the fall against bright colours, I walk and remember.

Nice weather- for a duck

2007-08-24T14:06:00.000-07:00

Images like this one, are common today in my town. Yesterday tornado warnings blared and winds reached 80 miles an hour. Both airports had to close. Many roads became impassible as flash floods rushed over them, and downed trees and power lines blocked lanes. The rains would slow to a drizzle only to have thunder rumble and the diluge start again. My daughter called home , and tried to leave me a message...it was only a partial due to a lot of garbling ; "Mommy - are [garbled]? We [garbled] a tornado.." then nothing. For 3 hours I tried to contact her with the result always the same. "All circuits are busy." Mary tries on her cell with the same result.

I assume many families were trying to contact each other. My roommate and I watched the news, which seemed to be all about the storm battering the midwest. Warning after warning for our county flashed across the bottom of the screen. Wordlessly, I fetch the old gym bag from the closet. I place a few bottles of water, and some food into it. I check the first aid kit, before tossing it in too. Mary looks at me, as I fold up a blanket and add it, along with a deck of cards , and the tiny TV ( no bigger then a transister radio). I place the flashlight nearby, with the valise that contains important papers. I ask her if she has anything she wants added. Wide eyed she asks me if I think we'll have to head for cover. I shrug , "Hard to say. But better to expect the worst, and hope for the best." I change from house slippers into sneakers. She follows my example. And after three tries manages to connect with her family here in town. I hear her tell her Mom to be ready to head for cover.

I finally reach Jess - but we can barely hear each other. She tells me the college was evacuated twice to the lower floors. I reassure her that Mary and I are fine, that I love her and to stay safe. There's aloud crackle on the line and the phone goes dead. Mary and I stare at each other.

Thankfully, we were spared any real hardships, but they are predicting more harsh storms for today- so the gymbag is ready and waiting- just in case.

On Angels and Miracles

2007-08-22T10:18:00.000-07:00

I have to admit, some days I just don't feel very strong. As a friend recently remarked, "If I had your life - I'd have commited suicide long ago." Well isn't that a cheery note?
She just doesn't understand what keeps me going. The fact that she's an Athiest really bogs down her understanding of what keeps me going on. I've always allowed folks their own beliefs (or lack of) , I don't argue whether God exists or doesn't. She poo-poos the idea of a higher force, and the Bible is just a pack of fairy tales, meant to scare folks into behaving. It really makes her mad that I won't argue the point. I tell her it's ok that she doesn't believe in Him, He believes in Her, and when she's ready, He'll be there to greet her. This is usually met with rolling eyes.
Yet still she asks how, having survived the things I have, and going through things I must , do I keep hope alive. I tell her," Most days, I just live on Faith - only you spell it hope." Because I am a believer, it's hard for me to grasp someones non-belief. It is equally hard for them to grasp my faith, I guess.
For myself, Faith and Hope go hand in hand, but I don't think they over-ride hard work and determination. Miracles are alot like beauty, they are in the eye of the beholder. Sometimes, miracles are small things - not at all dramatic. Because they are so gentle, they go overlooked, except to those willing to accept them for what they truely are. Even aid from someone, that act of kindness- IS a miracle my friend. Perhaps, that has been the hardest lesson of all for me, learning to allow others to help. I've always been the go-to person. The one who knew who, what, where, and could percure whatever was needed. I was never- shelfish with this 'gift'. Then Life decided to beat me. I've been in harsh places before, but never under such a wave of negativity. In one year alone, I lost my beloved son, a good job, and our home of 17 years. I was broken and spent - but not defeated. Sometimes, my 'miracle' was just the ear of someone, whom did not judge as I struggled to accept my son's death. The ones who didn't care if I needed to talk it out for months after. They waited and listened. Sometimes the miracle came in the form of applications handed me, or a call from someone who saw a help wanted sign. Now, I was the one in need...and believe it or not, mired inside the problems, I could not find my way. The 'answer girl', had no answers for herself. At first, I shunned offers of help - the sin of 'pride', although sometimes we say pride when what we truely mean is stupidity. It's been 5 long years, and I am still struggling my way upwards from that rabbit hole into which I fell. In many ways, I felt I deserved the bowels of hell, I had condemned myself too. But, then the 'angels' came. Mortal men, women, and sometimes even children, each holding out their hand, saying ,'it's ok- lean on me. Just one step at a time." Even now, the kindness I recieved, brings tears to my eyes, and thank you will never be enough. Every single moment forever etched upon my heart. Every single one a miracle. From the dandilion bouquet brought to me by a small child by the river one day, whose only remark was "Don't be sad , Lady" to the large monetary gift sent to me one cold winter as I faced eviction.
Yes, I believe in angels, and miracles.
If you open your eyes and heart, you'll see them too.

YOU are a Gem

2007-08-19T07:08:00.000-07:00

Someone once told me that I was like a many faceted diamond, and every time they looked they saw another facet of me. I tend to think everyone is like that. Every person is made up of bits and pieces that forge together to make them, well - them, a unique individual. Of course, some wear masks to hide themselves. I've found this to be usually for one of two reasons, either they really are not a very nice person, or they are afraid you won't like the 'real' them. Most fall into the second category. Some of us are even taught to wear masks as a protection against the world at large. "People simply won't understand/like this so pretend to be something else." Some even deny themselves to themselves. Afraid to admit to themselves who they really are. The result is alot of frustrated, unhappy folks. The simple truth is no matter who you are, someone is not going to like you, and they may not even know why themselves. It could be something as odd as you resemble their Great Aunt who use to lock them in the closet when they were 'bad', to the colour of your eyes or skin. Or your religious ( or lack of) belief. Name it and odds are someone else has something against it. So do yourself a favor- look deep into your own reflection and decide for yourself if you like what you see. Are you someone YOU would want as a friend? If the answer is yes, then just be you - accepting or not accepting you - as a whole package is that other person's problem not yours. We're all gems, in our own right, and worthy of love.

Odd Occurances

2007-08-18T07:31:00.000-07:00

Sitting here, sicker then a dog, and trying to convince myself that I can make it through work tonight. I ended up calling off work last night. 'They" were not pleased. Well too bad, so sad - I was busy dieing. I ran the whole gamut of 'flu' symptoms. yet I suspect it isn't the flu but a reaction to chemicals used to fumigate the apartments for lil critters.
I do NOT have them in my place, and do not want them, so I said spray away. I went out for several hours. Then too it could be a reaction to cleaning with acetone. Even though I was in a well ventilated area. Or perhaps it is a combination of the two. Dunno - don't care...all I know is I slept away most of yesterday and feel very weak today.
The downstairs apartment was left a holy terror by the tenant that just moved out. I've spent 15 hours 'cleaning' it so that it can be cleaned. If that makes sense.
Ok, it isn't as if my own apartment never gets out of hand. It never looks like it was torn out of a magazine either. It has that 'lived in' look. But good Lord, how can anyone sink to that stage of squalor?
There is something strange going on in my place lately. Perhaps someone can shed some light on it. I have an old rosary - traditional black beads with sterling silver links between the beads.
I had it hanging up over one of the dresser's knobs. Other night I heard it fall, which is weird in itself, and when I picked it up it was in THREE pieces, as if something had pulled it in opposing directions. I have also been finding small crucifixes laying about my bedroom floor. The kind they use to give us for doing good in Sunday school, made of cheap tin. So far there has been two on seperate occasions - found laying at approximately the same spot. Like I said very odd.
I've no idea where they've come from either. I even asked my roommate about them. Thinking since they are small and light weight, the cats could concievably have carried them in from her room. She denies ever having seen them before either. Perplexing no?
Now it gets a little odder - I had gone to get the rosary pieces to show Mary what I was talking about, and three additional beads had been removed and were laying seperately in the tray where I had placed it. Now mind you, these beads are linked together by sterling silver, much like a necklace chain, not strung like beads on a string. Meaning that they can't just be slid off, the links have to be OPENED, and the bead removed. Odd very odd indeed.
Any ideas on this? Anyone?

How'd he do that?

2007-08-15T05:06:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a blast djing for Caravan Radio - yep that station you hear coming from my blog. I do mostly Country music, both the classic country and the 'new' country. Well, I tried to follow in Nomad's footsteps - omg - How does he do it? It isn't unusual for Nomad to be in 3 or 4 chat rooms and dj at the same time. Now, I do admit, when you happen to host a chatroom, as I do 3 Paws Saloon, you do need to pay attention to what is being said by whom, and normally 3 Paws is active enough, I stay put and do the entire show from there. However last night, all the rooms in chatland seemed to be a bit slow, so I decided to do a Nomad...I was also in Didi's Dungeon. Talk about confusing! I'm trying to toggle between screens, and keep up with the topic's thread in both rooms, put in requests and talk on air all at the same time. I had to rewind my mouth several times - lol. A bonus was all the chatters in both rooms were CHATTERS - meaning the screens were moving fairly fast even though neither room had a large number in it. To my credit, I never once typed in the wrong screen, or got the radio station's name wrong. I don't think I'll do the multiple room thing very often, that coupled with hosting and djing is a bit difficult for me, but it did give me a new appreciation for Nomad's multi-tasking abilities.
If you'd like to be part of the broadcast simply log into www.caravanradio.com, or pop into 3 Paws Saloon.

I'm mellllttttingggggggggg

2007-08-02T07:46:00.000-07:00

It's one of those blistering hot days, where 5 minutes after your shower you feel you need to take one. The idea of donning slacks, and starched white shirt for work is daunting - let alone the hike into work. Arranging rides is like juggling hot coals. I work such weird hours. If possible in this heat, the walk back home seems even more daunting... just the IDEA of having walked the 3 miles in, and standing for 8 hours, without a real break, then hiking back is exhausting in this heat. But, ya gotta do what ya gotta do.
It's looking more and more like I have to sue the drunk that plowed into my parked car. He has this fly by night insurance company - Universal Casualty - that wants to pay out only $300 in damages. THEY told me either settle for this or sue him. Nice real nice. $300 won't even pay the towing and storage charges incrued while they decided that my car was totaled. I admit Gert wasn't worth alot of money- but worth way more then $300!
This happened 2 months ago now... I'm a patient person, but there comes a time when you just have to stop waiting and start doing.
I could just so scream/cry over it.
Anyway if you happen to be in my town. please avoid stepping in any puddles today. It could very well be me you're stepping in.

Val the Writer...

2007-07-30T22:59:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here wondering what to write about. It's 1 AM...even the furballs are sleeping. I'm listening to the sounds of silence. Normally, this time of day, I am busy scribbling my little stories, or poetry. The ying and yang of me, as my daughter would say. Although my poetry tends to be rather flowery, my stories are something else. Picture if you will Rod Serling in drag. (Cue the Twilight Zone music) Stories written not of graphic gore and violence, but done to cause chills to dance up and down your spine, and check your home twice before turning off the lights. Fact is most of my friends will not read my stuff before bed as they claim it gives them nightmares. Yet once started they can't help but to finish reading.
As a child, I use to hide beneath my covers and write by flashlight, and often succeeded in scaring the willies out of myself. I no longer hide under the covers ( the monitor causes a horrible lump) but now and then I do produce a deliciously creepy tidbit. I'm really not sure where these stories come from. Perhaps because I was raised on shows like Twilight Zone, One Step Beyond, Alfred Hitchcock, and Creature Features. Maybe it was because my parents believed in Spirits and were not afraid to discuss the occult. Maybe I'm just weird. All I know is they rise up in my mind like mist off the moore and spill themselves onto the page.
If you would like to read some of my work, visit Tales To Chill You or Lesa's Writers Hideaway
(Lesa's also carries some of my poetry).
Mean while, I think I may try that thing you mortals refer to as sleep. Pleasant screams, everybody. Muhahahaha

The cat drank my coffee

2007-07-28T07:29:00.000-07:00

Ok, let's make something clear here - I am a dog person that happens to be owned by cats. I did not choose to have 3 furballs living with me, in my tiny apartment - it just happened. I tolerate having them underfoot, and they in turn deem me a necessary servant.
When I lived in a large house with my children, we had the normal zoo - aquariums, 2 parakeets ( Alfred and Hitchcock, because they were 'The Birds'), a dog ( over the years there were 2 of those Shannon, who passed away at 20, and then Titan whom I had to give up when we moved) and 2 cats. Originally there was only one cat, Kalamazoo, who had been a gift from my mother when I was a newly wed . Sixteen years later, and two kids, Fate dropped Simba, an orange and white tom into our lives. He could not have been more then 6 weeks old, that October when I fished him out of the river. As cruel as it is, some fools still drown unwanted litters. Of the 7 in the sack he was the lone survivor. As young as he was, I knew if I left him there, he would die. So, furball went home with me - to be adopted almost over night by ageing Kal and Shannon. I think my kids were in love on site. Time passed, Kal left us at 18, and someone gave my daughter Thor to replace the missing one. Ok, I plead guilty on a secondary cat. Simba was lost without Kal - he had become her eyes, and I think her sense of smell as well. I would watch him guide her to the food and water and push her head into the bowls- as if to say 'there it is-eat, drink.' Also Simba was clearly attatched more to my son then daughter. In Jan of 2002, shortly after my son died - about a week I think, two things happened - Thor died of lukemia, and Simba went missing. Where Simba went, I've no idea.
All we knew is he didn't answer when called. Perhaps he went searching for his boy , but after about 3 weeks we assumed the worst. For the first time in her life, my daughter was experiancing monumental loss. I was so devestated over my son, I can not actually recall this time period. It takes on the hazy quality of some half remembered dream, or a movie one saw long ago. Around this time, her father decided to get her a new kitten. I wasn't actually asked, but informed, "Mom, I'm getting a new cat. And I want to name him Meischa." Enter a black creature whom I swear is a heathen by nature, and part kangaroo judging by his jumping. There is nothing to wake you up in the morning as a cat landing on you from above.
The fish died off in the following months - primarily due that despite the cover - Meischa loved to fish. I had no urge to replace them. In March of 2003, we moved to a much smaller place.
It was a decission the bank, helped us to reach. 9/11 had left me without a job, and I simply drifted - I worked with a cleaning service for a time. But, I was off in limbo still, a broken hologram of the person I had been. I have no words to aptly describe the place I had gone to mentally. I keenly felt each and every loss my daughter and I had survived, and the day I reached the decission to throw in the towel and move, I felt that with the exception of my daughter, I was loosing everything that had ever meant anything to me. I sold off almost all our furnishings, and we moved across town to this tiny upper apartment. I had found Titan a new home, with another family. A heart breaking decission, but one I had to make. So it was our zoo had dwindled to the parakeets and Meischa. I went back to the house one last time. Checking to be sure, nothing had been forgotten. I stood in my son's room, tracing the murals of the woods I had painted with my finger - remembering... when an odd yeowling caught my ears. On investigation, I found Simba just outside our house, after missing for almost a year! I told myself this could not be, that it was just a similiar cat. But when I said, "Simba? If that's you you better get your furry butt up on this porch', he answered right a way - circling my ankles exactly once, as he always had, then jumping up and encircling my neck with his front paws. I won't lie, tears streamed down my face, as we drove to our new home. If you believe in signs, one could say, that this was an omen that, one never looses everything.
Meanwhile back at the apartment, the parakeets caught cold and also died. Or perhaps for parakeets they were old, or it could have been Meischa tormented them to death. I had their cage on top of the curio cabinet- and he had found he could jump that high - and didn't need a pogo stick either!
Ok, 2 cats are one too many in this place, so why on earth when I was asked to take a calico named Mia 'temporarily' did I agree? Was my brain on hiatis? The apartment complex she had lived went to a no pets policy. So she was only to be with us maybe 2 weeks while they found her a new home....and THEY did find a new home - without her. It's been nearly 3 years...pretty sure she's not going anywhere now.
Speaking of the furballs, who have already done their ritual 'Trip the Human' game, here they come tearing through my room now.. . I'm not sure if they're racing or playing furball tag. At 14 Simba gives up and curls up on my bed. Glancing back I see Meischa has his head in my mug lapping up my black coffee - as if he isn't hyper enough! I yell at him, as Mia sees the opening and decides to leap into my lap, jarring me into knocking over the coffee cup. So...I guess I best end here, and clean up this mess. Anyone want a cat???

A New Beginning

2007-07-19T12:19:00.001-07:00

Hey all, just call me Val as the entire nic of Valkricry tends to permenantly tangle the fingers. There's nothing exceptional about me, in fact you'll find I'm alot like you or someone you know. I'm just your average middle aged woman, trying to stand on her own two feet, in a world that seems set to knock you down. So why should you read my blog? Good question. Maybe, if nothing else, you'll see something to make you smile, or maybe help to make some sense out of the craziness we call life. Maybe, just maybe, in my meanderings you can find something to hang onto when life plays too rough, or just plain feel like you've just had a drink with a friend. Because, no matter how the world percieves you, or your age, in everyone of us is a child, who just sometimes needs to hear that they are loveable and capable, and not alone on Life's journey.

Feel free to comment on my blog, or to ask questions. I can't solve your problems. but hey, I can listen!