I read a story this morning about how the budget shortfalls in Illinois are causing some issues in an interesting area - it seems prisoners are having to wear soiled, worn clothing, with laundry done only twice a week.
The story itself was not remarkable, really...it's hardly a surprise that the state will cut funding anywhere it can, and prisons are an easy mark because the people inside are either employed there and can leave or are lumped under the heading of "If you're there you must deserve to be so suck it up".
What struck me was the tone of the responses to the story. The comments left were horrid, to say the least, full of smug self-righteousness and ignorance. They ranged from"Who cares?" to "They deserve to suffer."
Excuse me??
People are wrongly convicted every day. Not everyone in prison is evil. People go to prison for having the wrong kind of herbal entertainment in their pockets. They go to prison for defending themselves. They go to prison because they made a mistake and society wants to punish them soundly.
Whatever the reason, and whether they are nice, stupid, evil, intelligent, kind, guilty, or innocent, they are still people. To try and deny them their humanity is a mistake. To treat them as less than human is to take away the one thing that connects them to society and helps them change for (one hopes) the better.
Forcing people to wear filthy, worn clothing while living in crowded conditions is unhealthy, to say the least.
Saying "Oh, well,they can wash them in the sink" would make sense...unless you know how unrealistic that is. Prisoners don't get full bars of soap. They often get tiny bits, smaller than those motel soaps. It's hardly enough to wash a body, let alone laundry.
Asking why they need underwear at all is just plain stupid. While not everyone wants underthings, a prison environment is hardly the place to make someone...erm...freeball, as it were. Think, people.
The comments about how the vicitims suffered, so should the criminals? How do two wrongs become a right?
And before you jump all over me for being all soft or whatever...I havebeen the victim of crimes, with the perpetrators unpunished. Were they in prison, I would not want them to be treated inhumanely...I would want them to come to understand how they did me (and others) harm, to change and grow, and to emerge better people. Naive, yes, but there you are.
I wonder what those hateful commenters would think if it was their son, husband, brother, sister, mother, daughter, or friend? What if they, themselves, were the prisoner being made to wear dirty, threadbare clothing?
Prison itself is the punishment...being locked away from the clear sky, the freshening wind, the gentle rain, the sun, moon, and stars...to be locked away from friend, family, kind words and soft touch...that's the punishment. Fer cryin' out loud, clean skivvies are hardly a luxury...or at least, they shouldn't be.
If Illinois needs to cut their budget, perhaps they should consider trimming from some truly inhuman sources - perhaps a few politicians could use a paycut. I'm sure the bribes will more than make up for it.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
But We Made It
We left Casa de Crazy on the 17'th. I drove, because while I'd only slept 2 1/2 hours the night before, Someone had even less.
The Evil Genius watched movies on the portable player (thanks for the loan, Mum) and Sprout alternated sleeping, playing, and bitching about being stuck in the car seat. In Virginia, we were stuck in traffic for several hours because of construction in or near one of the tunnels through the mountains. Sprout did not approve. By the timewe got through that mess, we werevery low on fuel and patience, but we managed not to run out.
What is normally a nine hour drive took fourteen.
Domino's Pizza in Pomeroy is wonderful -despite my calling just after they closed, they delivered dinner to our motel, saving me unhitching the trailer and finding something to eat that didn't come out of our cooler or a plastic package.
Saturday, we drove to the site and set up. We managed to get the canopies up before it rained...it was nice being able to unload trailer and van under cover. As soon as we got there, the Evil Genius shucked his clothes and ran to find his Wisteria friends. For the rest of the week, we saw him for a few minutes a day, usually when he was hungry or ready to go to bed. We will be washing the mud off of him for a month.
Sunday was more setting up and fluffing the camp, Jenny got there. She snagged Sprout and ran off with her for a few hours. Later that evening, we gossiped while Sprout drooled on her. We talked about Lo (her man), about his death last year and her new life.
Monday morning, Jenny died.
Typing that hurt.
Monday evening, we held Lo's memorial anyway.
You know what? I was going to write in detail aboutthe rest of the week...but I'm tired. Here's a nutshell:
Someone's girlfriend and her boyfriend came by, and we did some serious talking about our relationships. It was not always an easy conversation. It rained all week. I didn't sell much of anything, just about enough to cover the cost of ice and an unplanned motel stay on the way home -thank goodness for shitbag motels with cheap rooms! My relationship with Someone took a serious hit mid week, but we managed not to crash and burn and are continuingto work on it because we're not going to give up. I'm not a violent woman, but I will admit to wanting to perpetrate some ugliness on another person who will have her comeuppance, and I hope I'm there to see it beause I try to be all Zen, but sometimes I can't let go as easily as I'd like. Someone's girlfriend and I got a chance to hang out without our respective men about, and that was full of the awesome. I like her. All of us had some serious thinking/healing to do. Someone drummed every night, usually not getting back until after sunrise. It was good for him. I made it to the drumming once...it's difficult to go down to the fire when I have kids in camp-I won't leave them alone, sothatpretty much ties me to our campsite unless someone is available to watch them. I wasn't missed. The one night I went, I took Sprout with me - she loved it, and she was a rock star, collecting love and cuddles from a hundred different people. She likes fire, drumming, and glow sticks. I made it to the fairy shrine for the first time, and told the little batards to fuck themselves. It was cathartic. They gave me a blue stone, so I guess we're good. The woman who angered me beyond reason managed to compound my pissivity by hurting Someone's other girlfriend, too. Evil thoughts abounded, and Lady R and I have a common target for our ire. Low Rent (our name for the woman) is going to learn that when you fuck with community, community fucks back. Also, I learned that there are a lot of folks there who give a damn about me, about Someone, about our family and well-being...and there's nothing like the grapevine, is there?? It rained rather a lot during pack-out, so everything in the trailer is wet and will need washing/drying in the next few days. I didn't get stuck, though, so that was nice. On the way home Sunday night, I blew a tire on the trailer. It tore off the fender and shorted my dash display lights. It was my first blowout/flat ever. Welimped down the shoulder on the rim until we could find a gas station to drop the trailer at, then got a room - at midnight, there's not much more one can do. Monday morning was a flurry of finding a tire/wheel for the trailer(we got two - thanks, Mum, for saving our bacon...again...and again...and again...) and getting them replaced, then getting our butts home. After unloading a bit, I went to pick up something for dinner and ran out of fuel - the first time I've ever done so.
Someone is taking a long, hard look at himself and doesn't like what he sees. I am hurting for him and because of him. I want to be here for him, but Idon't know what to do to help...so I'm just here, hoping (believing) we can make it through this very bad place and back onto Tera Firma.
Despite everything, it was a good trip, and I want to go back next year. Strike that. I WILL go back next year.
Today is laundry and unpacking, and (if I canmanage to) napping.
How was your week?
The Evil Genius watched movies on the portable player (thanks for the loan, Mum) and Sprout alternated sleeping, playing, and bitching about being stuck in the car seat. In Virginia, we were stuck in traffic for several hours because of construction in or near one of the tunnels through the mountains. Sprout did not approve. By the timewe got through that mess, we werevery low on fuel and patience, but we managed not to run out.
What is normally a nine hour drive took fourteen.
Domino's Pizza in Pomeroy is wonderful -despite my calling just after they closed, they delivered dinner to our motel, saving me unhitching the trailer and finding something to eat that didn't come out of our cooler or a plastic package.
Saturday, we drove to the site and set up. We managed to get the canopies up before it rained...it was nice being able to unload trailer and van under cover. As soon as we got there, the Evil Genius shucked his clothes and ran to find his Wisteria friends. For the rest of the week, we saw him for a few minutes a day, usually when he was hungry or ready to go to bed. We will be washing the mud off of him for a month.
Sunday was more setting up and fluffing the camp, Jenny got there. She snagged Sprout and ran off with her for a few hours. Later that evening, we gossiped while Sprout drooled on her. We talked about Lo (her man), about his death last year and her new life.
Monday morning, Jenny died.
Typing that hurt.
Monday evening, we held Lo's memorial anyway.
You know what? I was going to write in detail aboutthe rest of the week...but I'm tired. Here's a nutshell:
Someone's girlfriend and her boyfriend came by, and we did some serious talking about our relationships. It was not always an easy conversation. It rained all week. I didn't sell much of anything, just about enough to cover the cost of ice and an unplanned motel stay on the way home -thank goodness for shitbag motels with cheap rooms! My relationship with Someone took a serious hit mid week, but we managed not to crash and burn and are continuingto work on it because we're not going to give up. I'm not a violent woman, but I will admit to wanting to perpetrate some ugliness on another person who will have her comeuppance, and I hope I'm there to see it beause I try to be all Zen, but sometimes I can't let go as easily as I'd like. Someone's girlfriend and I got a chance to hang out without our respective men about, and that was full of the awesome. I like her. All of us had some serious thinking/healing to do. Someone drummed every night, usually not getting back until after sunrise. It was good for him. I made it to the drumming once...it's difficult to go down to the fire when I have kids in camp-I won't leave them alone, sothatpretty much ties me to our campsite unless someone is available to watch them. I wasn't missed. The one night I went, I took Sprout with me - she loved it, and she was a rock star, collecting love and cuddles from a hundred different people. She likes fire, drumming, and glow sticks. I made it to the fairy shrine for the first time, and told the little batards to fuck themselves. It was cathartic. They gave me a blue stone, so I guess we're good. The woman who angered me beyond reason managed to compound my pissivity by hurting Someone's other girlfriend, too. Evil thoughts abounded, and Lady R and I have a common target for our ire. Low Rent (our name for the woman) is going to learn that when you fuck with community, community fucks back. Also, I learned that there are a lot of folks there who give a damn about me, about Someone, about our family and well-being...and there's nothing like the grapevine, is there?? It rained rather a lot during pack-out, so everything in the trailer is wet and will need washing/drying in the next few days. I didn't get stuck, though, so that was nice. On the way home Sunday night, I blew a tire on the trailer. It tore off the fender and shorted my dash display lights. It was my first blowout/flat ever. Welimped down the shoulder on the rim until we could find a gas station to drop the trailer at, then got a room - at midnight, there's not much more one can do. Monday morning was a flurry of finding a tire/wheel for the trailer(we got two - thanks, Mum, for saving our bacon...again...and again...and again...) and getting them replaced, then getting our butts home. After unloading a bit, I went to pick up something for dinner and ran out of fuel - the first time I've ever done so.
Someone is taking a long, hard look at himself and doesn't like what he sees. I am hurting for him and because of him. I want to be here for him, but Idon't know what to do to help...so I'm just here, hoping (believing) we can make it through this very bad place and back onto Tera Firma.
Despite everything, it was a good trip, and I want to go back next year. Strike that. I WILL go back next year.
Today is laundry and unpacking, and (if I canmanage to) napping.
How was your week?
Friday, June 17, 2011
Learn To Be Still
Thank you, baby girl.
Last night, in the midst of frantic oh-my-gods-I-still-have-so-much-to-pack-and-sew-and-where-is-it-all-going-to-go-and-what-about-dinner-and-I'm-hot-and-tired-and-light-headed-and-there's-no-tme-to-rest-or-breathe-or-pant-pant...
In the midst of that, you needed to bechanged, fed, and be cuddled until you went to sleep in Mama's arms, and so Mama had to sit. Still.
Everything had to wait a precious few minutes.
Thank you for reminding me to breathe.
Last night, in the midst of frantic oh-my-gods-I-still-have-so-much-to-pack-and-sew-and-where-is-it-all-going-to-go-and-what-about-dinner-and-I'm-hot-and-tired-and-light-headed-and-there's-no-tme-to-rest-or-breathe-or-pant-pant...
In the midst of that, you needed to bechanged, fed, and be cuddled until you went to sleep in Mama's arms, and so Mama had to sit. Still.
Everything had to wait a precious few minutes.
Thank you for reminding me to breathe.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Almost
We are almost ready to head out on our annual Solstice trip - nine days camping in Ohio at a campground that's a reclaimed strip mine.
We have almost finished packing the trailer.
We have almost finished packing our clothes, the kids' clothes, and all the attendant crap that goes with taking children camping (especially as I camp comfortable).
We have almost all of our groceries.
We are almost done sewing.
I almost feel ready...but...not quite...
Ready or not, Casa de Crazy goes mobile tomorrow at six. The morning one. I have not pre-posted anything, and probably won't - everything takes longer when the baby is in a "hold me" mood, and it's difficult enough to type one-handed, let alone when the dang space bar still doesn't work correctly! We'll be home by the 27'th - if I don't see you before then, have a good week and happy Solstice!
We have almost finished packing the trailer.
We have almost finished packing our clothes, the kids' clothes, and all the attendant crap that goes with taking children camping (especially as I camp comfortable).
We have almost all of our groceries.
We are almost done sewing.
I almost feel ready...but...not quite...
Ready or not, Casa de Crazy goes mobile tomorrow at six. The morning one. I have not pre-posted anything, and probably won't - everything takes longer when the baby is in a "hold me" mood, and it's difficult enough to type one-handed, let alone when the dang space bar still doesn't work correctly! We'll be home by the 27'th - if I don't see you before then, have a good week and happy Solstice!
Monday, June 13, 2011
No Way
I was coming back in from the garage and opened a box on a whim.
Me: "Oh. My. God."
Someone: "No way. You're kidding."
Me: "I'm so not..."
And into the house I came, because...yeah...
The grey one, there?
Yeah, that one.
Guess what's in it?
Go on, guess.
No, not a body. I'd hide it better.
This box we looked through several times, each of us. While he was looking, Someone carefully emptied each box to thoroughly search it.
So how come we found this?:
Let me help you out, a little.
Here would be the coffee pot and the one-burner:
And here would be my beloved nesting pots:
There were other things, but those were the main missing items.
Damn faeries...must have heard me thinking about hiring an exterminator and hosing the Casa down with faerie repellent.
Oh, well...at least now we can make coffee. I wonder if they realized they went too far, stealing Someone's Java supplies. Some things a man won't take lying down.
I AM glad they returned everything....before I had the trailer packed, even.
How was your day?
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Damn Faeries
Casa de Crazy is lousy with faeries.
Not the Disney kind that laugh and frolic and twinkle and occasionally save our bacon from disaster - no we have mean-spirited little fuckers, trickster-faeries who hide things or steal them outright, often returning them only when we've gone halfway to insane looking for whatever we know, damn it, KNOW, was right there THREE MINUTES AGO!!!
They mostly pick on poor Someone, who isn't used to having so much house to hunt through for things he can't find where he last left them. I think they like to hear him swear ans watch him turn red, see the thunderclouds build over his head, listen to him mutter. They love to steal his lighter, his socks, and especially his tools.
We have witnesses, by the way, to our tricksters' antics. Several visitors have seen Someone open a cupboard to get something to find said something not there. A twenty-minute search ensues, after which Someone will open the same cupboard, look in the same spot, and there the something is, right up front, right where he looked before.
Once, when our friend Handy J was here, he watched Someone go through the search, then witnessed as Someone called me to ask where the item he was searching for would be - when I told him, he went and looked, and there they were. Handy J was insistent that they'd both looked in that very spot...
Of course.
Usually, if Someone finally enlists my aid, I'll either walk right to what he's looking for or be able to tell him where it is...or, it'll reappear where he knows it should be and he finds it soon after.
The trickster-faeries don't like to mess with me too much. I'm a finder-of-things. It's difficult to hide stuff from a finder-of-things. Not impossible - they've zinged me a few times - but difficult.
I've been told I should give them milk. Bah. They don't care for dairy products. They don't want baked goods. They are not traditional faeries. Offerings of whiskey, wine, or beer seem to please them a little, as well as rib bones, Quahog and scallop shells, Oreo cookies, and shiny, shiny things. We have even built them their own little shrine in the woods, loaded with the things they seem to like. Nothing keeps them entirely at bay, though.
Right now, we are trying to get a lot of work done in a short amount of time - we have, realistically, three days to finish sorting, packing, sewing, cooking, and loading. We don't have time for trickster-faeries...which is why, of course, they are more than happy to make time for us.
This morning, while sorting through camping gear, I noticed some things missing. It made sense that they weren't in their regular box - Someone took them with him last Autumn when he was helping a friend with her business, travelling to shows and vending with her. They were in a different box, a smaller, more portable box. THAT box, however, was nowhere to be found.
Both Someone and I clearly recall washing things, putting them in the box, and putting the box in the trailer for the winter...but it's not among the things we unloaded...and we looked into every. single. box. twice.
I would shrug and say "Oh, well..." but I can't - what the little fuckers stole this time is a handful of items we need for our trip but cannot afford to just replace (coffee pot, nesting pots, Coleman one-burner, and all our fuel ) and I don't have time to play their games and hunt high and low for stuff.
I am...irked...dismayed...frustrated...and irked.
I hope they return our things before we have to leave...because camping with Someone when there's no way to make coffee? Daunting doesn't begin to describe the prospect...
Friday, June 10, 2011
Lots to Do
We're going up to Ohio for Solstice in a week. Between now and then, we need to:
Move the trailer, empty it, patch the holes that the neighbor's tree made in the roof and side, sort out what we're bringing and what's staying here, and re-pack it.
Pre-cook and freeze all the veggies and sides for ten day's worth of dinners for five people.
Wash, fold and pack clothing for the whole fam-damily.
Clean the van.
Sew shirts to sell.
Cut wood blanks to make into jewelry.
Buy last-minute groceries.
Figure out a watering schedule for the gardens (thanks, Gypsy!!).
Arrange and implement visitation for the Evil Genius and his father so the boy doesn't have to wait until July to see his dad.
A myriad of other small things that add up a very busy week. What are you up to?
Move the trailer, empty it, patch the holes that the neighbor's tree made in the roof and side, sort out what we're bringing and what's staying here, and re-pack it.
Pre-cook and freeze all the veggies and sides for ten day's worth of dinners for five people.
Wash, fold and pack clothing for the whole fam-damily.
Clean the van.
Sew shirts to sell.
Cut wood blanks to make into jewelry.
Buy last-minute groceries.
Figure out a watering schedule for the gardens (thanks, Gypsy!!).
Arrange and implement visitation for the Evil Genius and his father so the boy doesn't have to wait until July to see his dad.
A myriad of other small things that add up a very busy week. What are you up to?
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
The Spam Knows
Rough night.
Feh, not rough, plain awful. Never mind. Let's look at The All Knowing Box O' Spam to see what kind of day it'll be, shall we?
Hmm.
I can earn up to $87 an hour, and apparently a hitherto unknown relative in the EU died and left me a fortune. There are two offers for the quick, free delivery of pills of unspecified origins or type.
Woo-hoo, party at the Casa!! One way or another, our cares are over!
Feh, not rough, plain awful. Never mind. Let's look at The All Knowing Box O' Spam to see what kind of day it'll be, shall we?
Hmm.
I can earn up to $87 an hour, and apparently a hitherto unknown relative in the EU died and left me a fortune. There are two offers for the quick, free delivery of pills of unspecified origins or type.
Woo-hoo, party at the Casa!! One way or another, our cares are over!
Monday, June 6, 2011
The Things About A Baby Is...
...just when I think I'm hitting my stride, that we have a pattern to our day...she up and changes things.
Sprout's eating a bit of cereal twice a day. She had her four-month check-up last week - at 25.5 inches and 13+ pounds, she has nearly doubled in size.
She does not approve of shots, but recovers from her ire quickly enough. Yes,we immunize,and yes,we've read reports and personal anecdotes and considered the possible repercussions...and we've decided that we'd rather have some of the immunizations and chance the possibilities than have a baby or child die or be disfigured or come to harm from a completely preventable childhood illness.
She's trying to figure out how to roll over, getting closer every day.
She loves the bath - now, she likes to watch the water dribble from the little cup we rinse her with.
Look:
She thinks it's amazing.
Nap times are ever-changing. I try to get at least a little sleep-time with her every day,but some days we're too busy.
Speaking of busy...it's time for me to pack up these kids and hit the road...we have errands to run, and Someone could use a few minutes of quiet after his weekend of solo parenting.
What's new in your world?
Sprout's eating a bit of cereal twice a day. She had her four-month check-up last week - at 25.5 inches and 13+ pounds, she has nearly doubled in size.
She does not approve of shots, but recovers from her ire quickly enough. Yes,we immunize,and yes,we've read reports and personal anecdotes and considered the possible repercussions...and we've decided that we'd rather have some of the immunizations and chance the possibilities than have a baby or child die or be disfigured or come to harm from a completely preventable childhood illness.
She's trying to figure out how to roll over, getting closer every day.
She loves the bath - now, she likes to watch the water dribble from the little cup we rinse her with.
Look:
She thinks it's amazing.
Nap times are ever-changing. I try to get at least a little sleep-time with her every day,but some days we're too busy.
Speaking of busy...it's time for me to pack up these kids and hit the road...we have errands to run, and Someone could use a few minutes of quiet after his weekend of solo parenting.
What's new in your world?
Sunday, June 5, 2011
I'm Here...
...but not entirely...heh...
I the chance to work this weekend and I took it. I'm tired - going to take a bath and go to bed. See you tomorrow.
How was your weekend?
I the chance to work this weekend and I took it. I'm tired - going to take a bath and go to bed. See you tomorrow.
How was your weekend?
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Thoughtfetti
I have a "new" oven/stove thanks to a friend, Someone, some sweat, the loan of a circular saw, and a bitof wiring. I'm very happy, both to have saved Mum the cost of a new one (thanks anyway, Mum) and to have a working oven again.
~~~~~
The space bar on Bob the Wonder Computer is still only working intermittently. Fun.
~~~~~
The same evening that Someone and our friend Handy J replaced the oven/stove, we had a big storm. Lots of wind. The neighbor's tree fell on my utility trailer. The utility trailer I need to use in two-and-one-half weeks. The one we'll be living in when we head to Ohio for our annual Solstice camp out. It has two holes in the roof. Someone and Handy J both assure me they can repair the trailer, make it waterproof again...just as soon as we get the tree off it.
~~~~~
The same tree took out our satellite dish. With some more sweat, some creative language, and a dollop of determination, Someone got the dish back into place. The tree that came down had been partially blocking our signal. Now that it's down, we can watch hockey again. Silver lining.
~~~~~
I had to make a choice...pay the phone bill or buy nappies and formula. If you don't see me around for a bit, it's not 'cause I don't love you.
~~~~~
How're you doing?
~~~~~
The space bar on Bob the Wonder Computer is still only working intermittently. Fun.
~~~~~
The same evening that Someone and our friend Handy J replaced the oven/stove, we had a big storm. Lots of wind. The neighbor's tree fell on my utility trailer. The utility trailer I need to use in two-and-one-half weeks. The one we'll be living in when we head to Ohio for our annual Solstice camp out. It has two holes in the roof. Someone and Handy J both assure me they can repair the trailer, make it waterproof again...just as soon as we get the tree off it.
~~~~~
The same tree took out our satellite dish. With some more sweat, some creative language, and a dollop of determination, Someone got the dish back into place. The tree that came down had been partially blocking our signal. Now that it's down, we can watch hockey again. Silver lining.
~~~~~
I had to make a choice...pay the phone bill or buy nappies and formula. If you don't see me around for a bit, it's not 'cause I don't love you.
~~~~~
How're you doing?
Monday, May 30, 2011
I Will Remember
Photo found here and copied entirely without permission but not without respect.Many of my family have served their country in the various branches. My brother was in the Army, but thankfully got out when yet another gopher hole tried to eat his ankle. Don't ask. My Uncle was in the Air Force, even flying Air Force Two for a while. My Grandfather was in the Coast Guard during World War II. I have a cousin in the Air Force. I believe he flies Airforce somethingorother from time to time. I have a friend who was in the Army during the Vietnam War (conflict, my ass!) - I never once resented the calls at three-o'clock in the morning; nightmares shy away from friendly voices, from reason and reassurance. Another friend was in the Army until it broke his back - literally. He survived, but not his plans for a lifetime in the military - they don't want broken people, no matter how useful or clever they are. Someone's family is jam-packed with folks who've served - mostly Navy, I believe - and deserve some respect and thanks. So...thanks.
For a history of this day, go here. Or here. Or here. In a nutshell, Memorial Day is for remembering the fallen. Veteran's Day is for honoring the living. That's why they get two days, and so they should. Men and women stand up and make targets of themselves to maintain our freedoms every day of the year, so the least we can do is take two days to tell them "Thanks. Thanks for acting against human nature and protecting me and mine. Thanks for losing an arm, a leg, a life so that I don't have to."
It's not about the politics. I'm non-violent. I don't think war is ever a reasonable response to conflict. I won't forget, though, that people have laid down their lives so that I may stand on a street corner protesting (I never would) them, or denigrating (never, ever!) them for their service.
Perhaps one day, we won't have any new graves to decorate. Until then, I remember and (as best I can) I honor.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
While She Sleeps
I love to hold her while she sleeps, soft, limp, warm baby girl.I love her sighs, little murmurs, tiny twitches, when she nestles a little closer.
I love to watch her wake, stretching, eyes opening, looking around,thousand-watt smile blazingonto her face.
Holding her is a reminder that despite my numerous flaws and failures, sometimes I do get it right.
She's a great comfort.
I love to hold her while she sleeps.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
But You Can't Hide
From time to time I am nearly overcome with the desire...the need...to run away.
Run away from home, friends, family, this life I'm living.
Run away from the bills I can't pay, the house I can't keep clean, the broken things I can't fix or replace, the inevitable, resigned disappointment of those around me when I fail...again...
That's the fuel - that disappointment. It hurts.
I daydream about taking the kids and starting over where no one knows me.
But I know it won't make a difference. You can run...
Monday, May 23, 2011
One of THOSE Days...er...Weeks...
Aaaaaarrrrrrghhhhhhh!
Pant, pant.
Ahem.
Aaaaaarrrgggghhhhhhhhh!!
Pant, pant, pant.
Hrrrrhhemmm.
One more...
Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrghhhhhhhhh!!!
Pant, pant...pant...
Whew.
Now that I've gotten that out of the way...
I realize that I am Entropy's bitch. It doesn't have to keep driving the point home. And Murphy really doesn't need to chime his ass in, either.
My oven is kaput. Whaydaya mean, I can't bake??
The last bulb in the how-the-heck-do-you-change-the-bulbs-in-this-thing-? foyer light blew.
The dryer doesn't care to, at the moment.
The left "Shift" Key fell off of Bob the Wonder Computer.
I got it back on, but now the space bar isn't. Spacing. I have to keep striking it until it feels space-y again, which is about one-third of the time...this post took half of forever to type.
The trash company didn't pick ours up this week...probably because I haven't paid them. Unreasonable people.
The Blue Nowhere was just the Nowhere today at the Casa de Crazy - again with the whole paying the bill thing. Sigh. I need a patron. Or a lottery win.
Sprout decided that 4:30 was exactly the right time to get up for the day and naps are for chumps.
There's more, but between the space bar that isn't and the baby that thinks blogging, like naps, is for chumps, I need to be done. How's your life goin'?
Pant, pant.
Ahem.
Aaaaaarrrgggghhhhhhhhh!!
Pant, pant, pant.
Hrrrrhhemmm.
One more...
Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrghhhhhhhhh!!!
Pant, pant...pant...
Whew.
Now that I've gotten that out of the way...
I realize that I am Entropy's bitch. It doesn't have to keep driving the point home. And Murphy really doesn't need to chime his ass in, either.
My oven is kaput. Whaydaya mean, I can't bake??
The last bulb in the how-the-heck-do-you-change-the-bulbs-in-this-thing-? foyer light blew.
The dryer doesn't care to, at the moment.
The left "Shift" Key fell off of Bob the Wonder Computer.
I got it back on, but now the space bar isn't. Spacing. I have to keep striking it until it feels space-y again, which is about one-third of the time...this post took half of forever to type.
The trash company didn't pick ours up this week...probably because I haven't paid them. Unreasonable people.
The Blue Nowhere was just the Nowhere today at the Casa de Crazy - again with the whole paying the bill thing. Sigh. I need a patron. Or a lottery win.
Sprout decided that 4:30 was exactly the right time to get up for the day and naps are for chumps.
There's more, but between the space bar that isn't and the baby that thinks blogging, like naps, is for chumps, I need to be done. How's your life goin'?
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Live and Let Live...Just Not Next Door (SO Series)
Imagine, dear reader, that you are looking for a home.
No problem, right? There are plenty of free publications offering rentals and homes for sale in every neck of the woods and at every price level
But wait.
You can't move in any old where.
You have limitations.
You can't live near a school. Hmm...OK...not too difficult, plenty of places not near schools, although that makes getting the kids to and from a bit more of a challenge.
Oh, wait...you also can't live near a daycare. Oh...OK...so any neighborhood with a home daycare or a daycare center is out
Whoopsie, forgot...no church, either. Huh...there are some parts of the country where that's just not possible. Heck, here in Redneck Central you can't spit without hitting a Baptist something or other.
Also, no playgrounds, parks, or places where children congregate. No YMCA, public swimming pool, or mall with a playground or skate park.
You need to search carefully around your prospective new home, because if you don't locate every one of the above and make certain it's more than 1,000 feet from where you'll be living?
Jail. Possibly for life.
Imagine being told you cannot visit your parents, or any of your family. If you do?
Jail. Possibly for life.
Imagine, dear reader, that the same applies for place of employment, or educational facility.
Imagine that you must find a way to support your family while living within these edicts. Imagine, if you can, your spouse being fired because you're married to him/her. Imagine your children relentlessly bullied at school, at church, at soccer/football/baseball because they're yours. Imagine people coming to your house and threatening you, threatening your family.
Imagine law enforcement providing your address to anyone who wants it, because it's the law.
Imagine not being able to travel for any length of time without first getting permission.
Imagine having to turn over every phone number, every e-mail or online account with passwords so that someone may, at any time, log on and see what you are doing...and if they don't approve?
Jail. Possibly for life.
Imagine having to go every year (in some place more often) to a dark, dreary office and proclaim your presence in the area, give your address and fingerprints, and wait for someone to come and confirm that you live there. Imagine having to move because someone opens a childcare, a church, a park within the thousand feet (unless you're lucky enough to live somewhere that has grandfather clauses).
Imagine having to wear an ankle bracelet, never to be removed, that has a GPS device, and if you stray into a no-no area (inadvertent though it may be)?
Jail. Possibly for life.
Imagine never being able to see your child's school play or recital, never attending a scouting camp out or overnight function, never serving as a classroom parent or chaperon, never taking your child to an amusement or water park, never going to the beach.
Imagine being afraid to change your daughter's diaper, wipe your son's bottom, give your child a bath.
Imagine having to worry about all of that for the rest of your life...all of that and more. Imagine people treating you as pariah because you've been labelled, and that label doesn't differentiate the severity of your act.
Imagine being eighteen and thrown into a cold, callous, uncaring system, knowing that the rest of your days you will be called "Sex Offender" and will carry the burden of that label until you die. No one will hire you, no one wants you living near them, no one cares that the girl* you "offended" was your girlfriend, that she consented, that she was three days from her seventeenth birthday. Or perhaps she lied and told you she was seventeen when she was not, that she has done this before, that she likes to toy with older boys, or perhaps she's looking to score, to gain merit in the eyes of her peers (if you think that doesn't happen, you're wrong - it happens every day, girls and boys both). Her consent, her deceit, do not matter. The fault is yours and yours alone.
No one cares - all they see is the label.
They see a pedophile. They do not look, do not want to look, beyond their own presumption of guilt
*I say "girl", but this applies equally to the males of the species. Please don't get your knickers in a twist because of my gender bias - I don't care to type "girl/boy", "his/her", or "they/their" all the time. I'm lazy.
No problem, right? There are plenty of free publications offering rentals and homes for sale in every neck of the woods and at every price level
But wait.
You can't move in any old where.
You have limitations.
You can't live near a school. Hmm...OK...not too difficult, plenty of places not near schools, although that makes getting the kids to and from a bit more of a challenge.
Oh, wait...you also can't live near a daycare. Oh...OK...so any neighborhood with a home daycare or a daycare center is out
Whoopsie, forgot...no church, either. Huh...there are some parts of the country where that's just not possible. Heck, here in Redneck Central you can't spit without hitting a Baptist something or other.
Also, no playgrounds, parks, or places where children congregate. No YMCA, public swimming pool, or mall with a playground or skate park.
You need to search carefully around your prospective new home, because if you don't locate every one of the above and make certain it's more than 1,000 feet from where you'll be living?
Jail. Possibly for life.
Imagine being told you cannot visit your parents, or any of your family. If you do?
Jail. Possibly for life.
Imagine, dear reader, that the same applies for place of employment, or educational facility.
Imagine that you must find a way to support your family while living within these edicts. Imagine, if you can, your spouse being fired because you're married to him/her. Imagine your children relentlessly bullied at school, at church, at soccer/football/baseball because they're yours. Imagine people coming to your house and threatening you, threatening your family.
Imagine law enforcement providing your address to anyone who wants it, because it's the law.
Imagine not being able to travel for any length of time without first getting permission.
Imagine having to turn over every phone number, every e-mail or online account with passwords so that someone may, at any time, log on and see what you are doing...and if they don't approve?
Jail. Possibly for life.
Imagine having to go every year (in some place more often) to a dark, dreary office and proclaim your presence in the area, give your address and fingerprints, and wait for someone to come and confirm that you live there. Imagine having to move because someone opens a childcare, a church, a park within the thousand feet (unless you're lucky enough to live somewhere that has grandfather clauses).
Imagine having to wear an ankle bracelet, never to be removed, that has a GPS device, and if you stray into a no-no area (inadvertent though it may be)?
Jail. Possibly for life.
Imagine never being able to see your child's school play or recital, never attending a scouting camp out or overnight function, never serving as a classroom parent or chaperon, never taking your child to an amusement or water park, never going to the beach.
Imagine being afraid to change your daughter's diaper, wipe your son's bottom, give your child a bath.
Imagine having to worry about all of that for the rest of your life...all of that and more. Imagine people treating you as pariah because you've been labelled, and that label doesn't differentiate the severity of your act.
Imagine being eighteen and thrown into a cold, callous, uncaring system, knowing that the rest of your days you will be called "Sex Offender" and will carry the burden of that label until you die. No one will hire you, no one wants you living near them, no one cares that the girl* you "offended" was your girlfriend, that she consented, that she was three days from her seventeenth birthday. Or perhaps she lied and told you she was seventeen when she was not, that she has done this before, that she likes to toy with older boys, or perhaps she's looking to score, to gain merit in the eyes of her peers (if you think that doesn't happen, you're wrong - it happens every day, girls and boys both). Her consent, her deceit, do not matter. The fault is yours and yours alone.
No one cares - all they see is the label.
They see a pedophile. They do not look, do not want to look, beyond their own presumption of guilt
*I say "girl", but this applies equally to the males of the species. Please don't get your knickers in a twist because of my gender bias - I don't care to type "girl/boy", "his/her", or "they/their" all the time. I'm lazy.
Friday, May 20, 2011
At Mum's
There are worse place to spend one's last day, should it prove the Rapture is a-comin'.
Not that it applies to me - I'm not Christian, nor am I descended (spiritually speaking) from the first two (who couldn't be Christian because Christ wasn't born then, so how could they follow his teachings?)(not that following his teachings make a Christian, because if it did there'd be a whole lot of empty churches around where I live, and no one would have to worry about whether they had a place in heaven after the Rapture). Being Pagan, I get to sit back and watch, then go looting.
Oh, c'mon, tell me you wouldn't go picking through all the nifty stuff left behind. I really could use a recliner, and an oven that, oh, I dunno, actually works (ours died its final death a few nights ago...now I can't bake anything, and that's like not being able to go to therapy...ack!!). They can't take it with 'em, so why shouldn't I make use of what's there?
Still, if I was Christian, and if I did believe that the end is not only nigh, it's breathing down our necks and crowding us at the checkout, I think this would qualify as a most satisfactory last day.
We're up at Mum's. Lately, we're up here about once a week - Someone does yard work and I keep Sprout and the Evil Genius from taking over the world. Also, I cook breakfast and dinner, because Mum could use the break and shouldn't have to fix meals for all of us, and because I'm a better cook. OK, not really that last one, but Mum reads this blog and I have to get a dig in somewhere.
Today started early for me - 5 am - but it wasn't too bad. Nice sunrise, and Sprout cuddled up and dozed on me for a couple of hours, so I didn't have to walk her around or worry about her cries waking anyone else up. A nice leisurely breakfast, then I got a pot roast started for dinner while Mum and Bird played on the Wii for a bit. After they were done, Sprout and I snoozed on the recliner (I can't loot this one after the Rapture, because Mum's not Christian either, and she might get mad if her chair goes missing) while Mum and Someone finished erecting the deer fence. It looks good. A nice dinner, and then Sprout and I made use of the porch swing as evening finished falling (but not on our heads).
Listening to the birds, the pip-pip-pip of the humming birds chastising us for being too close to their evening snack spot, the humming of the bees coming in to the home they've made in one of Mum's bird houses, the frogs singing out in their chorus, swinging in the lovely coolth...it was peaceful in a way we cannot manage at Casa de Crazy.
Now there's hockey on, and since we're at Mum's it's a clear signal, no pixelating (like everything else at the Casa, the satellite isn't working right...ugh...), so Someone won't miss a goal or some other crucial play (I'll know it's really the end when things work they way they should at Casa de Crazy).
We'll be home again tomorrow, and the world will crowd in on us once more. I'll have to pick up the small stresses that I leave behind whenever we come up here, the little worries and cares that weigh on me at Casa de Crazy but have no meaning at Mum's - Rapture or not, bills need paying, laundry needs doing, there's sewing to finish and more to begin, the house needs cleaning...I'm too busy for the end of the world as we know it, thanks.
What're you up to?
Not that it applies to me - I'm not Christian, nor am I descended (spiritually speaking) from the first two (who couldn't be Christian because Christ wasn't born then, so how could they follow his teachings?)(not that following his teachings make a Christian, because if it did there'd be a whole lot of empty churches around where I live, and no one would have to worry about whether they had a place in heaven after the Rapture). Being Pagan, I get to sit back and watch, then go looting.
Oh, c'mon, tell me you wouldn't go picking through all the nifty stuff left behind. I really could use a recliner, and an oven that, oh, I dunno, actually works (ours died its final death a few nights ago...now I can't bake anything, and that's like not being able to go to therapy...ack!!). They can't take it with 'em, so why shouldn't I make use of what's there?
Still, if I was Christian, and if I did believe that the end is not only nigh, it's breathing down our necks and crowding us at the checkout, I think this would qualify as a most satisfactory last day.
We're up at Mum's. Lately, we're up here about once a week - Someone does yard work and I keep Sprout and the Evil Genius from taking over the world. Also, I cook breakfast and dinner, because Mum could use the break and shouldn't have to fix meals for all of us, and because I'm a better cook. OK, not really that last one, but Mum reads this blog and I have to get a dig in somewhere.
Today started early for me - 5 am - but it wasn't too bad. Nice sunrise, and Sprout cuddled up and dozed on me for a couple of hours, so I didn't have to walk her around or worry about her cries waking anyone else up. A nice leisurely breakfast, then I got a pot roast started for dinner while Mum and Bird played on the Wii for a bit. After they were done, Sprout and I snoozed on the recliner (I can't loot this one after the Rapture, because Mum's not Christian either, and she might get mad if her chair goes missing) while Mum and Someone finished erecting the deer fence. It looks good. A nice dinner, and then Sprout and I made use of the porch swing as evening finished falling (but not on our heads).
Listening to the birds, the pip-pip-pip of the humming birds chastising us for being too close to their evening snack spot, the humming of the bees coming in to the home they've made in one of Mum's bird houses, the frogs singing out in their chorus, swinging in the lovely coolth...it was peaceful in a way we cannot manage at Casa de Crazy.
Now there's hockey on, and since we're at Mum's it's a clear signal, no pixelating (like everything else at the Casa, the satellite isn't working right...ugh...), so Someone won't miss a goal or some other crucial play (I'll know it's really the end when things work they way they should at Casa de Crazy).
We'll be home again tomorrow, and the world will crowd in on us once more. I'll have to pick up the small stresses that I leave behind whenever we come up here, the little worries and cares that weigh on me at Casa de Crazy but have no meaning at Mum's - Rapture or not, bills need paying, laundry needs doing, there's sewing to finish and more to begin, the house needs cleaning...I'm too busy for the end of the world as we know it, thanks.
What're you up to?
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
There Is No Title
I have a recurring dream.
Actually, I have several recurring dreams, my psyche's own little video library, but I'll spare you most of them for the moment.
This one particular dream, I've had quite often, of late.
The colors are dark - greys, blues, purples, colors of night. I'm in a forest. There are hunters. They are not after me. I am gliding from shadow to shadow, sliding across frozen puddles of moonlight, seeking the hunters' prey.
He's there in the wood. I can hear him, soft though he treads; his heartbeat thunders in my mind.
I find him in a tiny clearing, illuminated. He is waiting for me, silver in the night. Just as I reach him, the hunters break through. He snarls. I place myself between him and the people who would kill him, though I am armed only with wit and will.
No words are spoken, but our intents are clear - the wolf will be the wolf, himself always, never tame, never docile, he will tolerate his chosen few but never bend himself to another's will. The hunters will destroy him if they can...all they see is his danger. And me? I will split wide the earth, call down the gale, loose the conflagration, summon the rushing waters, fight tooth and toenail to protect him. Whatever the cost, I will not let them destroy this wild, beautiful thing. In my dream, I am more than equal to these fluttering, ineffectual fools. All they have are weapons of metal and wood - I have Nature's fury with which to do battle.
Within the dream, I fear only that I will be too late. Once I've found him, that fear passes - I am absolutely confident that I will prevail. I will not make the first move, but I will not hesitate to defend him against all comers, and they will fail.
Sometimes the dream ends there - hunters circling, wolf growling, teeth bared, my hands raised, face set in stony determination.
Sometimes it ends in the midst of the melee, slain and wounded hunters scattered around us, more coming at us, wolf exuding primal rage, myself drawing on my cold anger to fuel the arts with which I do battle.
Sometimes it ends with the wolf and I walking through the silent forest, untouched, moonlight marking our path.
What have you been dreaming of?
Actually, I have several recurring dreams, my psyche's own little video library, but I'll spare you most of them for the moment.
This one particular dream, I've had quite often, of late.
The colors are dark - greys, blues, purples, colors of night. I'm in a forest. There are hunters. They are not after me. I am gliding from shadow to shadow, sliding across frozen puddles of moonlight, seeking the hunters' prey.
He's there in the wood. I can hear him, soft though he treads; his heartbeat thunders in my mind.
I find him in a tiny clearing, illuminated. He is waiting for me, silver in the night. Just as I reach him, the hunters break through. He snarls. I place myself between him and the people who would kill him, though I am armed only with wit and will.
No words are spoken, but our intents are clear - the wolf will be the wolf, himself always, never tame, never docile, he will tolerate his chosen few but never bend himself to another's will. The hunters will destroy him if they can...all they see is his danger. And me? I will split wide the earth, call down the gale, loose the conflagration, summon the rushing waters, fight tooth and toenail to protect him. Whatever the cost, I will not let them destroy this wild, beautiful thing. In my dream, I am more than equal to these fluttering, ineffectual fools. All they have are weapons of metal and wood - I have Nature's fury with which to do battle.
Within the dream, I fear only that I will be too late. Once I've found him, that fear passes - I am absolutely confident that I will prevail. I will not make the first move, but I will not hesitate to defend him against all comers, and they will fail.
Sometimes the dream ends there - hunters circling, wolf growling, teeth bared, my hands raised, face set in stony determination.
Sometimes it ends in the midst of the melee, slain and wounded hunters scattered around us, more coming at us, wolf exuding primal rage, myself drawing on my cold anger to fuel the arts with which I do battle.
Sometimes it ends with the wolf and I walking through the silent forest, untouched, moonlight marking our path.
What have you been dreaming of?
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Kick-Ass Pasta Salad
The Evil Genius spent the weekend with his dad, and Someone, Sprout and I went up to Mum's to get some garden-type things done there.It's slow going, because when we go up there it either rains or we discover that we need a tool or some other supplies to get a job done, or (as happened earlier this week) a piece of equipment craps out and we need to get it fixed (thank goodness for friends who are handy and kind-hearted - hopefully the mower will be up and running again very soon).
I made a pasta salad for lunch that was freakin' amazing. I have no photographs and no measurements, but I had to share the basic recipe with you because I am mighty chuffed about it.
The players:
Tortellini, any kind you like ( I used chicken and herb this time)
Pesto
Mayonnaise
Lemon Juice
Cabbage
Carrots
Celery
Salt
Pepper
Parmesan Cheese
Action:
Cook the tortellini until al dente. How much? Umm...how much pasta salad do you want?
While the pasta is cooking, thinly slice or shred some cabbage. How much? Again, it depends on how much salad you want, but I didn't use a lot - just enough to add a little texture to the finished product. Shred some carrots. See cabbage for amounts. Chop a stalk or two of celery.
In a separate bowl, mix two parts mayo to one part pesto. You can use more pesto if you want - I didn't have a lot of it, but may bump up the green stuff next time I make this, because I love me some pesto. Mix in some Parmesan, salt and pepper, and a few squeezes of lemon juice.
Toss the shredded cabbage, carrots, and chopped celery in a large bowl. Add half the mayo mixture.
When the pasta is cooked, drain and chill it. Once chilled, toss it into the cabbage mixture. Add the rest of the mayo mixture a little at a time until the salad is sauced to your liking. Chill. Nom. nom, nom.
What I didn't have but plan to use next time, maybe:
Green Onions
Artichoke Hearts
Fresh Peas
Lemme know if you make it, whether you add your own touches, and how you like it
I made a pasta salad for lunch that was freakin' amazing. I have no photographs and no measurements, but I had to share the basic recipe with you because I am mighty chuffed about it.
The players:
Tortellini, any kind you like ( I used chicken and herb this time)
Pesto
Mayonnaise
Lemon Juice
Cabbage
Carrots
Celery
Salt
Pepper
Parmesan Cheese
Action:
Cook the tortellini until al dente. How much? Umm...how much pasta salad do you want?
While the pasta is cooking, thinly slice or shred some cabbage. How much? Again, it depends on how much salad you want, but I didn't use a lot - just enough to add a little texture to the finished product. Shred some carrots. See cabbage for amounts. Chop a stalk or two of celery.
In a separate bowl, mix two parts mayo to one part pesto. You can use more pesto if you want - I didn't have a lot of it, but may bump up the green stuff next time I make this, because I love me some pesto. Mix in some Parmesan, salt and pepper, and a few squeezes of lemon juice.
Toss the shredded cabbage, carrots, and chopped celery in a large bowl. Add half the mayo mixture.
When the pasta is cooked, drain and chill it. Once chilled, toss it into the cabbage mixture. Add the rest of the mayo mixture a little at a time until the salad is sauced to your liking. Chill. Nom. nom, nom.
What I didn't have but plan to use next time, maybe:
Green Onions
Artichoke Hearts
Fresh Peas
Lemme know if you make it, whether you add your own touches, and how you like it
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