A reprint...because I spent the morning ferrying Sprout to various doctors.  More about that another day.

~~~~~
While little (and not so little) people are out extorting candy from strangers (on the one night a year Mum and Dad aren't telling them NOT to take candy from strangers, and isn't that a mixed message?)(and if you don't think that's extortion, think about about it "Give me a trat or I'll play a prank on you" is exactly that - extortion), more than a few pagans are spending the evening in an entirely different fashion.

Samhain (pronounced "sawin") is sometimes called the Witches' New Year. It's thought to be the time of year when the veil between the worlds is thinnest, and so best suited for speaking with our dead, with those who passed on in the previous year.

On Samhain, our living God dies, and until he is born again on Yule the Goddess and all the world mourns him. Poor Goddess, carrying her child alone for the next two months - throughout eternity she must suffer this loss before she can know her joy once more. Don't worry if you don't get it - it's a cyclic thing, a nature thing, and a deeply, weirdly Pagan thing.

Some will have large meetings, solemnly chant and circle the fire, call upon the gods of old. Some will dance wildly around bonfires, drumming, singing, shrieking, leaping the flames, looking for all the world like the imps and devils we were once purported to be. Some will just hand out candy and let the night pass, and some will put out the lights, draw the blinds, and pretend not to be home. A few (Pagan and non) will look for and find trouble. Many will feast, drink, and hold the dumb supper - the meal placed out for the those who've gone through the veil - whether alone or in numbers. These days, none who are truly Pagan will sacrifice anything more than a glass of wine and/or a plate of food to the fire, the earth, the old gods.
This year it's us Casa de Crazians and our friend Mizz Monster.  We're each carving a pumpkin - normally they'd be carved by now, but I am running way behind.

Of course we'll roast the pumpkin seeds because I adore them.

At dusk, we'll light the jack-o-lanterns and take the kids out for their bit of begging. If the night is fine, we may fire up the outdoor fireplace and sit out on the drive reminiscing about the past, about family and friends long gone but not forgotten. I may or may not mull some cider and have some cups to ladle out portions for the adults trailing the kids who will start coming around soon. Heh - come and drink my Witch's Brew - you won't fly or turn into a newt, but it'll take the chill off. I may or may not have a bit of whisky or rum to add medicinal value to the drink.

I will make a special dinner for Samhain night. I don't have anything traditional - this year it's chicke and veggie pasta. I try to make something that my ancestors or anyone I've lost in the previous year would like to eat. The first portion of each item is carefully plated and placed at the head of the table or on the altar. A bit of whatever's to drink will be placed with the laden plate).

Later tonight, after we've eaten, handed out candy, taken the kids out for some socially sanctioned begging, we'll take food and drink down to the woods and leave the contents for our ancestors. We may or may not name them. We may or may not sing a song for them. We will honor them, wish them well, and remember. We will ask their blessing in the coming year. It will be short, but heartfelt - we don't need a lot of ritual, these days, just a few quiet minutes with our Gods.

It's an odd hodgepodge of a night - some modern traditions that were founded in the old, and some straight from the days (and nights) when our people could be openly themselves, could worship the gods of field and wood, river and rock, without fear of censure or death.
Blessed be those who have gone before; blessed be those who live now; blessed be those who will follow after. The wheel turns once more, and blessed are we who turn with it. Blessed be.
This year, I celebrate: three years year ago, Someone made his first visit to Casa de Crazy, began the process of coming Home.

This year I honor: Crunch Malone, Dixon, Gordie, Harry Morgan, Ben in Texas, Andy Griffith, Anna Hill, Jude, Neil Armstrong, and Cap'n Bob.

A Letter

Dear Golden Pantry,

I thought you'd like to know about the lady working the early hours at your store on the corner of 53 and Tanner's Mill Road here in Redneck Central.

I had occasion to stumble in for coffee this morning.  She was alone in the shop, probably because finding ONE person to work at that hour is miraculous, let alone TWO.  As soon as I made my squinch-eyed way into the shop, she greeted me.  When she noticed I was shambling towards the coffee, she asked what kind I wanted.  When I plaintively requested, half joking, "extra caffeinated", she told me which pot had the most kick.

The cash register in that store talks.  Do you know how annoying that is?  Compounding matters, it doesn't speak clearly, so what SHOULD sound like "Swipe your pass" ACTUALLY sound like "Wipe your..." umm...portion of anatomy that rhymes with "pass".  I beg your pardon?  Impertinent!

Said machine also says "Uh-oh!" in a high-pitched voice with distressing frequency.  The nice lady is developing a twitch over this.  I suggested making a drinking game of it - every time the machine says "Uh-oh!", she does a shot.  I apologize for that...but I DO think she's going to be MUCH happier now.

At any rate, the nice lady behind the counter made me laugh this morning, and given my rough night, scant sleep, and general level of grump, that was a difficult and much valued feat.  She deserves a reward, just sayin'.

Sincerely,
The Early Morning Zombie

Done is Done

Just a quick thought to share here in the void that was once my blog:  when there is no more clean air, when there is no more clean water, when there is no more clean food or any food at all, when the earth is gasping, dehydrated, and starving...it won't matter how wealthy, powerful, privileged, or famous you are - done is done, gone is gone.  Perhaps it would behoove us all to remember that as we mindlessly consume.

Physics of Being

Hmm.

According to Physics, I am not here.

I am simply more likely to be here than not here.

You are not here.

You are simply more likely to be here than not here.

No one, nothing, is here.

Only more likely to be than not to be.

Hey, Shakespeare was on to something!

I think I'll go be more likely to be somewhere else for a bit.

If you are here (or there), or simply more likely to be here (or there), I hope wherever you are more likely to be than not to be is pleasant.

If you could manipulate the likelihood of being and placeness, who/where/what would you alter?

Chilly Morn

We woke to a chill, this morning.  Relatively speaking.  If we were transitioning from winter to spring, we'd think it warm, but as we're coming out of hundred-degree weather, sixty-six is excuse enough for cheater biscuits and sausage gravy for breakfast, and oatmeal for good measure.

Some of my favorite days are when Autumn flexes her muscles and gives us a taste of what's to come.  It'll warm up again for a week or two, then cool, back and forth until the temperatures drop in earnest and frost glitters on the grass.

Meanwhile, we can enjoy open windows and give the AC some respite.  Soon, I will drag out the snugly covers.  If I must choose one season above the others, it is Autumn.

What's the day like where you are?

Zennish

As I exhale, others inhale. As I inhale, I breathe in the exhalations of others. The light that shines on me, shines on you, too. The rain that falls on me falls on you, too. We are all connected; none of us is alone.

Us Lava, Already

Y'all, I am near my breaking point.

Tell me a joke, or something funny, wouldja? See if you can put a smile on my face, because I'm tired of crying.

Thoughtfetti

What do you call thirteen witches in a hot tub?

A self cleaning coven!

~~~~~

I don't think I can call Sprout a baby any more - she's full tilt toddler, now. Holy carp!

~~~~~

The Evil Genius grew two feet this summer. That may not even be an exaggeration. He needs new clothes. Fun!

~~~~~

I don't know who to vote for this fall. I have even had the thought scamper across my mind that I won't vote at all, that it isn't worth it. No worries - worth it or not, I'm voting. I will not let apathy steal away the one tiny voice I have in regards to running the rotting hulk that was once our ship of state.

~~~~~

I had my first Mormon Missionary encounter a few days ago. Boy, those Jehovah's Witnesses could take some politeness lessons from the Mormons. Nice boys, the Mormons...painfully young and I can't get past the sublimation of women or the magic underwear, but still...nice.

~~~~~

We have an acorn squash plant threatening the house. Inch by inch it is creeping from the compost pile (where it mysteriously sprouted up)(mysteriously because we haven't HAD acorn squash in two years) to the front landing. If it makes it to the door, I suspect it plans to come in and make itself at home, perhaps use the Internet and avail itself of plentiful clean water. Meanwhile, we're getting some lovely squash from it, so as long as it is willing to pay rent, I guess it can have a room. It still has to do a chore, though.

~~~~~

Sprout has a cough. She picked it up somewhere and won't let it go. I keep trying to convince her that coughs don't make good pets, but she isn't having any of it. I think she plans to keep it until it hatches. Sigh.

~~~~~

I didn't water my Christmas Cactus for three weeks. It'll live, but it isn't speaking to me right now. Good thing the other living things in the house have the means to tell me they need feeding, huh?

~~~~~

Sprout has learned how to blow kisses. Good grief.

~~~~~

There's not a zone on my body that doesn't have a twinge, aches, creak, pop, or pain. Is there a chiropractor in the house? One that will work for banana bread and acorn squash?

~~~~~

How're you doing?

Ham It Up

Last Saturday our neighbors gave us a ham. A random ham. Weird, no?

Not really. He works at the local food bank, and when they have food that is close to or just past the expiration date, they send it home with employees.

We've received pizzas larger than manhole covers, pork chops that weighed more than Sprout, and once a rib-eye that fed several of us for a month. Okay, maybe not a month...but it was huge and more than enough for three meals (I et it when Someone was away, and it lasted through dinner, breakfast, and lunch, with scraps for the outdoor cats). I am happy to receive it - with a freezer, expiration dates hold less meaning for me, and I believe expiration dates are not the definitive factor for determining food freshness anyway.

This time, a boneless ham.

I turned into into dinner on Sunday - baked ham, mashed potatoes with home grown dill, and steamed, home grown green beans.

There was a lot left over, so ham and eggs were on the breakfast menu, ham sandwiches for lunch, and...umm...am I starting to smell like pork? I think I just felt myself break out in glaze...

What do y'all do with leftover ham? And how do you feel about expiration dates?

Want, Need

When I was in the fifth grade, I had a teacher who thought our class could use learning the difference between "wants" and "needs".

Needs, he said, were what we couldn't live without.

Wants, he said, were what we could live without but would like to have.

In life, he said, needs come before wants.

He defined needs as food, clothing, and shelter. These are things without which we cannot get along. I would argue today that food and water are necessary to life. Shelter, while mighty fine, can be got along without in many places if needs must. Even clothing is extraneous - just ask a nudist!

I often think the human world could use learning the difference between what it wants and what it needs.

The denizens of Casa de Crazy have been watching documentaries on Netflix, of late. With satellite gone and the DVD player on permanent fritz, Netflix is our entertainment buddy. Thanks to T, who lets us use his account!

We seem to have a few basic topics that interest us right now: food (growing, harvesting, processing, nutrition), water (bottling, cleanliness, scarcity), marijuana (the disparity between public will, state law, and federal law, growing, medicinal uses, prohibition in general), and corporate culture (companies that are aware of and work to minimize their social and environmental impact, companies that seek to show a clean, compassionate public face while in truth they have little concern for anything but the lining of their pockets, and companies that don't even try to hide their ugliness).

Oddly, many of the subjects overlap.

Common to many of the shows we've seen is privation. If you live in North America, chances are you have, or can fairly easily find, food and potable water. Chances are also good that you have or can find shelter and clothing. In the US, a couple of dumpster dives can garner perfectly good food for a month. A few more in the right place can garner meat for a year. I am seriously considering my local markets and their dumpsters. In the US we throw away 3,000 pounds of food a second. Throw away. We don't even compost it or feed it to pigs; it all goes into landfills.

In other places, though, people feel lucky to eat a few times a week. Potable water is a pipe dream, let alone clean, clear, easily accessible water from a convenient tap. Often, governments and corporations make it difficult or impossible for the poorest, most desperate of people to meet their own needs, instead fostering dependence on aid from others; usually the very governments and corporations that seek to (and often do) control natural resources and the generation of wealth.

Now don't get me wrong, I actually aspire to wealth...but not at the expense of others or the environment.

So many people in this world can't even meet their own needs. We do without a lot of wants (while I may joke that I need the Internet to live, life goes on without it) but we have plenty of clean, fresh water on demand, and while we may get tired of leftovers and cheap foods, we don't go hungry at Casa de Crazy. No one has yet mandated that we choose between drinking toxic ground water or paying with our lives for dubious tap water, or decreed that we can't grow our own food, or passed laws that said we cannot collect rain water for our gardens (sorry Arizona, Oregon, and...umm...I can't recall who else had rainwater collection bans).

I want many things - to be able to buy nappies for Sprout, to go to a movie sometimes, to pay the phone bill, to be free (if only for a little while) of my first-world worries about paying car insurance or the Internet bill without having to borrow (borrow, borrow, borrow, but never able to pay back) from Mum to do it. Folks, I pure loathe being an Albatross.

Need though? I think we've got that covered in spades.

How about you?

Reflecting

I don't look in the mirror often. I must cop to an aversion to mirrors. I've gone years without knowing if, indeed, I even had a reflection.

It's not as difficult as you might think to go without looking at yourself - I don't use cosmetics and what I do with my hair can hardly be considered "styling". I don't need to see what I'm doing.

From time to time I take a look, just to see what's going on above my ever-lower boobs.

Funny thing...I can't see my eye color. Really. I can look and look, but I can't ever tell what color they are. I have to ask someone else.

Come to think of it, when I bother looking I don't see me. I see my grandfather. I see his eyes staring out into the nowhere, looking at what isn't there, thinking his lonely thoughts, dwelling. I see my grandmother, my Mother's mother, tired smile and high cheeks like the one picture I've seen of her. I see my mother, the set of her mouth, the way the lines form around my eyes when I smile, the stubborn set of her chin. I see a little of my father, mostly in the shape of my body, my shoulders and wrists. I see generations of family, a line back to the beginning, my ancestry looking back at me through eyes that see do much more than what's there.

It's only when I look at my children that I see myself. I see myself in them, characteristics that they can only have gotten from me. I see, in them, bits and pieces of the people I carry with me.

Sometimes people look at Bird or Sprout and tell me they look just like me. Lots of folks voice the opinion that my kids are beautiful. I am biased - of course they are beautiful - they are my mother, my grandmothers, my grandfathers, and on days when I am not too tired or worn in spirit, I'll even own they're a little bit me.

The only mirror I need reflects so much more than my visage...

Yes, It Matters.

A witch is a witch is a witch. Male, female, witch.

I mention this because lately I have run into the word "warlock" with irritating frequency, and in every case it has been misused.

Here follows a brief vocabulary lesson:

Warlock is a verb, not a noun. One may be warlocked. One may warlock another. One is NOT a warlock.

To be warlocked is to be banned from a coven, a community of witches, as an oath breaker. During what we call The Burning Times (aren't we festive??), it was dangerous to be known at a witch, so people took craft names and swore themselves to secrecy, to protect the coven and its collective knowledge. If a person were to make public those secrets, or to act in a way contrary to the coven's law, or endanger the coven and its members, or use their knowledge to the detriment of the community, they could and likely would be warlocked - banished from the coven and the craft, stripped of title and privilege, denied access to resources, and occasionally even ritualistically "bound", cut off from any source of mystical power or deity. Occasionally this meant being marked in some visible way to warn other covens, and banishment from the village as well. It was serious business, not undertaken lightly. Once warlocked, always warlocked, and that could mean a bleak existence, indeed.

If a person today refers to them self as a warlock, I presume they are either ignorant or not to be trusted. As the former is more likely than the latter - I have only heard of one war locking in recent history in MY community - I often undertake to educate the person in question, but it's a losing battle...it seems some folks would rather cling to their Hollywood ideas of witchery than embrace accuracy.

So why do I care? If society accepts the definition of "warlock" as "male witch", why not let it go? For the same reason I would not let it go if society decided that "frog" means "nightingale". It doesn't. No amount of misuse will change it.

A witch is a witch is a witch. Spread the word, would you?

Golden

We were in Ohio last week, the kids and I - Someone would have come, but we thought he had other plans. They fell through at the last minute, too late for us to bring him along.

We had a nice time with our friends, and even manged to get down to the drum circle...albeit in the morning when it was largely empty. Sprout didn't mind, though:

I'm hoping to go back again this year, but don't see it happening, realistically. Sigh. Since when are we so anchored in reality? Bah!

Nothin'

Casa de Crazy, before breakfast. Subject has been awake for thirty minutes.

*What do you do all day?*

Nothing. Well, I guess you can't...hold on...the washer stopped, I need to start another load...

5 minutes passes.

So, where were we?

*Discussing what you do...*

Yeah! So it's not really true that...oh, nuts, wait a sec...

Fifteen minutes pass as the subject collects garbage bags from around the house, goes outside and rolls the rubbish bin to the street.

Okay, sorry, what was I saying?

*"Nothing..."

Oh, right. I guess you can't say I do no...hold on again, the baby's hungry.

Fifteen minutes pass as the subject prepares and serves fruit, cheese, and crackers to the toddler.

Sorry about that...I think she's in a growth spurt. As I was say...um...hang on again...

Another twenty minutes pass as the subject scoops food off of the floor, changes the toddler's nappy, washes her face, and engages her in some play before washing the high chair tray.

Okay, so as I was saying, you can't really call it nothing, because...uh, hang on, the washer stopped again.

Ten minutes pass as the subject removes laundry from the dryer, puts another load in and starts the washer again.

Whew, sorry - seems like the laundry is endless around here. I don't know how so much clothing and so many towels can get dirty in a day! So...wait...uh...dang, sorry...

Twenty more minute pass as the subject changes the toddler again, empties the dishwasher, and hand washes the dishes in the sink.

*Why hand wash?*

I'm out of detergent, haven't had the time or the budget to go get more. Sometimes I think they get cleaner this way, anyway!

*Back to the original question, you were telling me about "nothing"...*

Of course! So...sorry...

Another fifteen minutes pass as the subject makes toast for the nine-year-old boy who has just risen, then carries his bedding downstairs to wash. Forty-five minutes more elapse as she sets him to a history lesson - she home schools him.

Anyway...whew...do you mind if I get a drink of water? I forgot to, this morning. That's what comes of doing nothing all day, you know...

The subject goes to the kitchen to get some water, but is stopped by the boy who asks if he has any clean cups despite the fact that he is standing in front of the cupboard and the dishwasher, both easily within his reach. Subject hands him a cup, puts away a few dry dishes, washes up after the boy's toast breakfast, makes some more toast for the ever-hungry toddler, and returns to the couch without having gotten any water. Thirty minutes have elapsed.

Right, so it's not really fair to say I don't do anything all day, I mean sometimes I...excuse me again...

The dryer has stopped, and the subject goes downstairs and once again shifts loads around, this time bring a basket of clean laundry up with her. She sits and begins folding. Ten minutes elapsed.

Sometimes I do get...baby girl, stop helping Mama fold...something...baby girl, please don't, that's not really helpful...every once in a while, anyway...baby girl, c'mon now, if you grab everything I fold and wave it around like you've captured the flag, it isn't actually "helping" Mama get this done! Grr...excuse me, please...

The subject removes herself and the clean laundry to another room where she folds it and puts it away, all while the toddler stands in the blocked doorway and whines for attention. Twenty minutes go by.

Can I offer you something to eat? Drink?

No, thank you, I'm fine. Could we return to the question of "nothing"?

Sure, sure. I think I was saying that "nothing" would be an unfair...oh, hang on...

The subject prepares a snack for the toddler, who is becoming cranky. When the child finishes her food, the subject rocks the toddler in her arms until the child is asleep. This takes half an hour.

Whew, sometimes she put up a fight and it takes forever to get her to sleep. Boy, talk about grumpy! So as I was saying...oh, pardon me...

The nine year old wants to know where his shoes are. The subject helps him find them, still cradling the toddler in her arms. She then looks around for her cup of water, only to realize she never got one. She juggles the sleeping toddler and a cup, realizes she can't reach the faucet, puts the cup on the counter and sits back down. Thirty minutes elapsed.

*Are you feeling alright? You look a little peaked...*

Oh, sure, fine. I'm pretty sure I had something to eat this morning...or was that yesterday? Anyway, I got five hours of sleep last night, so I'm good to go. Are you sure I can't get you anything?

*No, thank you. Can I get you some water, since your hands are full?*

Oh, no thanks, I'll get some when she wakes up. So, about "nothing", I...oh, hang on...

The toddler has awakened and wants a drink, and something to eat, and to be held while she enjoys her snack. The subject changes the toddler once more, places her amidst a pile of toys to play, and steps into the kitchen to finally get her water. She takes a sip, swears softly under her breath, and fetches a broom - the floor is crunchy. Forty minutes elapse as she sweeps, chases the toddler away from her sweep pile, moves toys, sweeps more, and eventually manages to use the dustpan to get the worst of the mess into the trash. She sits down with a sigh.

I guess it depends on how you define "nothing", really. I mean, an anyone truly say...

The toddler thrusts an empty cup at the subject, demanding another drink. The nine year old wants to know where a particular toy is. The subject refills the toddler's cup and tries to help the boy find his toy in his bedroom, which seems to have a carpet of nothing but toys, stuffed animals, and clothing. She admonishes him to get his clothing into the hamper and if he kept his room tided up he wouldn't have trouble finding his toys, and didn't he have that particular toy in the garage yesterday, anyway? He runs to the garage without cleaning anything up, and she returns to her seat where the toddler clambers onto her and demands attention. Thirty minutes have elapsed.

I'm sorry, but will you excuse me? I need to...umm...

The subject retires to the restroom for a few minutes. The toddler whines at the blocked door.

Whew, that's better! I never went when I got up...oh, wait, sorry, TMI! Anyway, I do sometimes manage...excuse me...

Things continue in this fashion into the evening. For the sake of brevity, we will now skip to the end of the interview. The telephone has rung and been answered a number of times. Several puddles of cat vomit have been cleaned up. Nappies have been changed. Snacks have been prepared, eaten, and cleaned up. Lost items have been searched for, some have been found. Laundry and dishes have continued to be done throughout the day. The toddler is sleeping fitfully, occasionally waking and crying until the subject rocks her back to sleep. Dinner has been cooked, and haphazardly eaten. Toys are scattered throughout the house, despite the subject having continually picked them up throughout the day. The floor is once more crunchy, despite several sweepings. The nine year old is in his room, playing before bed. The subject is sitting on the couch, eyes drooping. She yawns.

Wow...so what were we talking about?

*You were explaining what you do all day.*

Right, right! So I don't think you can say I don't do anything. I mean...even just sitting here all day, my heart beats and my body processes things, so I don't think "nothing" is a fair assessment. And anyway, sometimes I go get the mail - that counts as something, right? Nah, okay, I guess maybe I really do nothing all day - I'm lucky that way.

End interview.

Independence Day

Yep, this is a repost, but why re-write what already suits??
~~~~~
In writing the Declaration of Independence, in ratifying it, in signing their names to it, the men named at the bottom risked the very things they hoped to secure for themselves and for future generations. They were performing an act of treason, and by putting their names to it they made of themselves targets for the man, for the nation, they accused. They fought for the principles they named, fought for their families, for their lives, and for the burgeoning life of the tender new nation they hoped to nurture into a great place, a free place, a place where anyone could hope to not just survive, but thrive - a place where anyone willing to put their all into it, to do their very best, could find success, no matter what their gods, their nation of origin.

Since that time, people have tried to follow their lead, standing up and making their voices heard to help secure their rights, the rights of future generations. They have added color and sex to the list of things that cannot determine success, cannot be used as an excuse to deny equal opportunity.

You do the same when you vote. You do it when you attend council meetings, board meetings, town hall meetings, and speak your piece; when you ask the hard questions, protest with signs, songs, shouts; when you show people who think they own this nation to the exclusion of others, people who think they have the right to amend your rights to suit them, that you are watching them, that you SEE them, that you know better.

You do it when you tell our armed forces "Thank you for your service" whether you agree with whatever conflicts we're embroiled in or not - because they are standing up for our liberty doing a hard, dirty, often thankless job - and they are there, ultimately, to preserve our nation and its principles (As an aside - thank you, men and women of the armed forces. Thank you, and blessed be, and come home safe to the families who love you, miss you, and hope only for your swift return.).

You do it when you teach the children in your life what it means to be free - freedom to fly means freedom to fall, and freedom to rise up again; freedom to succeed means freedom to fail, and to try once more; freedom to speak means freedom for dissenting opinions to be heard; freedom is not comfortable - at times, it is downright terrifying...but it is necessary to the human spirit.

Given a choice to be cold, hungry, ragged, poor, weary, worn and free, or to be clothed, fed, housed, succored, safe and bound - I will be free. Do not make the mistake of giving up your freedom for the illusion of safety - you will one day wake to find you have nothing left but the yoke you bound yourself to.

I could go on, but to what purpose? You understand or you don't - and my little rant won't sway anyone, I fear.

Here, then, is a transcript of our most essential document, the one that began it all, the one that first gave shape to our name, to our identity as a nation. Read, if nothing else, the first two paragraphs. They are as stirring, heartfelt, and powerful now as when they were first written.
~~~~~

IN CONGRESS, July 4, 1776.

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America,

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.--Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.
He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.
He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.
He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.
He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.
He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the Legislative powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.
He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.
He has obstructed the Administration of Justice, by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary powers.
He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.
He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harrass our people, and eat out their substance.
He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.
He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil power.
He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:
For Quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:
For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:
For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:
For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:
For depriving us in many cases, of the benefits of Trial by Jury:
For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences
For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies:
For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws, and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:
For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.
He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.
He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.
He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.
He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.
He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our Brittish brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which, would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.

The 56 signatures on the Declaration appear in the positions indicated:
Column 1 - Georgia: Button Gwinnett, Lyman Hall, George Walton

Column 2 - North Carolina: William Hooper, Joseph Hewes, John Penn South Carolina: Edward Rutledge, Thomas Heyward, Jr., Thomas Lynch, Jr., Arthur Middleton

Column 3 - Massachusetts: John Hancock Maryland: Samuel Chase, William Paca, Thomas Stone, Charles Carroll of Carrollton Virginia: George Wythe, Richard Henry Lee, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Harrison, Thomas Nelson, Jr., Francis Lightfoot Lee, Carter Braxton

Column 4 - Pennsylvania: Robert Morris, Benjamin Rush, Benjamin Franklin, John Morton, George Clymer, James Smith, George Taylor, James Wilson, George Ross Delaware: Caesar Rodney, George Read, Thomas McKean

Column 5 - New York: William Floyd, Philip Livingston, Francis Lewis, Lewis Morris New Jersey: Richard Stockton, John Witherspoon, Francis Hopkinson, John Hart, Abraham Clark

Column 6 - New Hampshire: Josiah Bartlett, William Whipple Massachusetts: Samuel Adams, John Adams, Robert Treat Paine, Elbridge Gerry Rhode Island: Stephen Hopkins, William Ellery Connecticut: Roger Sherman, Samuel Huntington, William Williams, Oliver Wolcott New Hampshire: Matthew Thornton
~~~
If you've made it this far, thank you. To support out troops, go visit Any Soldier or Troop BeBop (I know this woman - she's a force of nature!). I wish you a safe, joyous, and happy Independence Day.

Ayuh.

I Quit Counting At Fifty

My name is not Steve.

There is no portion of my anatomy that needs lengthening, hardening, or improved endurance.

I don't know who "she" is or why her enjoyment hinges upon my performance, and I don't care. "She" can take care of herself - I have a family to look after.

I don't care about what's left of Victoria's secrets - those scraps of fabric wouldn't cover my big toe, let alone the rest of me.

I don't need to find someone's phone number via a shady Internet service. I have a phone book.

If I need pharmaceutical aid, I have a doctor and a pharmacy that can oblige me - I won't be going anywhere I need a passport to get my medication.

I don't care how wonderful your computer program is, I am not interested in it. My laptop is full. Full I tell you! It will not hold a jot more, not one little bit.

I don't care to see your new pictures or live web-cam. I certainly am not interested in seeing you in your underwear. Have we met? What makes you think I give a rat's patootie about your anatomy - if I want nekkid or barely dressed, I have children who will oblige me whether I like it or not. Underwear does not turn me on - it reminds me of laundry I haven't done yet.

I think Pandora jewelry is several kinds of hideous and wouldn't wear it, let alone advertise it, without being paid huge, disgusting, truly obscene amounts of money, and even then I would still say I thought it was hideous. It is not improved by being presented in another language (especially a language that I barely speak). If you love it beyond measure, hurrah for you, you can have my share and godspeed - we each have our own tastes and mine don't run in that direction.

Whatever you think I want to get up to in a photo booth, you're wrong. Just wrong. Nope. Nope, nope, nope.

If I want pictures of hot nude men and male celebrities, I will Google search them, thanks anyway. Also, I do not want pictures of hot nude men or male celebrities.

I neither desire nor require a payday loan. In case you haven't read this blog (and clearly, someone hasn't), I do not have paydays. And if I did, I would know better than to get loans predicated on money I haven't earned yet, with huge interest rates and usurious terms.

I don't need nude models. I have children. I see all the anatomy I care to (and plenty that I don't) on a regular basis, with bonus poop! I go to clothing optional events to sell...er...clothing, actually (hmm...), so I am not in need of any adult bits-n-pieces either. Also, I have Someone, who provides all the fun bits-n-pieces I want on demand and without requiring a credit card or loading a virus onto my hard drive, so thanks but no thanks.

I was gone for ten days. I returned to an e-mail box full of notices of blog comments. My heart did not go pity-pat. I know better. Of nearly two-hundred e-mails, more than fifty were blog comments. Four were from actual people-type people. The rest were what I will generously call "spam". This has only started since I disabled word verification on comments.

My blog is a tiny speck in the Blue Nowhere - why am I one of the lucky spamees??

I will no longer permit anonymous comments. Sorry. If you want to say something on my blog, you will have to identify yourself, or at least make an effort to amuse me by making up a false identity. C'mon, pseudonyms can be fun!

Spam...bah!

I Wonder What It Will Be

Anybody Home In There?

I am a little concerned about the Evil Genius.

Either he's suffering from a traumatic head injury that he failed to tell me about or...oh, yeah, wait...he's nine. That explains it.

He is forgetful. To an exasperating extent.

He leaves lights on that should be turned off. He leaves dishes and cups and crumbs on the table and dishes out huge servings of attitude when reminded to clean up after himself. Likewise with the empty wrappers and containers. He leaves clothes on the floor, and toys, and books and...is that Jimmy Hoffa???

He leaves toys at other people's houses, including the iPod Touch his father gave him and the cell phone that he's supposed to keep charged and with him when he's not home. He leaves his cell phone off or uncharged most of the time. He leaves doors open that should be closed, leaves things withing Sprout's reach that should not be there.

He forgets things I told him only moments ago. He forgets to brush his teeth or clear off his bed or flush the toilet. Sometimes he forgets to comb his hair or change his clothes for days on end unless I remind him relentlessly to do so.

And he's not even a tween yet, let alone a teen.

I'm going to need Xanax...

And We're Off!

Sometime this evening, Someone will be home. Whew, we've missed him!

As soon as he gets home, we'll have to get his laundry done and packed, because tomorrow morning at the crack of ohmygodit'searly! we are pulling out of Casa de Crazy and heading for the wilds of Earlville, Illinois. That's about a fourteen hour drive if we don't stop to eat, pee, fuel up, or let the Sprout run a little.

Eek.

Although I am game to try making it in one go, I am fairly certain we'll be stopping before we get to Earlville. Between Sprout, who only puts up with that car-seat nonsense for a minimum of time, and Someone, who will just have finished a fourteen-plus hour drive, I think the tolerance for van sitting will not permit more than a ten-hour or so haul. We'll see...

Earlville...sounds like a thriving metropolis doesn't it?

I wouldn't be going, but the band was hired to perform at an event there...and it's kind of difficult to sing in Illinois when I'm in Ohio (which is where I WOULD be going if we weren't singing in Illinois). Anyone know the trick to bi-location??

Today will be busy here - I need to get all the little (and not so little) last-minute things done. Sprout is likely to spend most of the day disgruntled, as she will have to play by herself for a while - T picked the Evil Genius up last night, which made the boy happy but left me without entertainment for Sprout, who adores nothing better than to play with her Big Brudder.

Oh, well...

If I have time later I'll pre-post some things...otherwise, y'all are on your own until I get back. Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge, stay out of the liquor cabinet, and for the love of all that's holy, wouldja please flush this time?

Yawn

I'm tired.

I feel boring.

Sprout has been waking up in the night again, and also early in the morning. I've taken to taking her into my bed so she can nestle in with me and sleep a little more. A sleep-deprived Sprout is not pretty or fun!

I have not been going anywhere much of late. Too much to do, of late - trying to sew, laundry, housework, getting ready for the trip, and simply wrangling two energetic and attention-demanding kids. The grocery store is about the edge of our travel limits.

Thank goodness for Netflix. T let us use his account, and the Evil Genius and I take turns picking things to ignore. Right now we're watching the series "Life After People". I am cleaning by inches, packing a little at a time, asking the Evil Genius to play with Sprout while I clean the van and trailer. He's been wonderful, and she adores him so she doesn't mind that I go outside without her.

I could use some kid-free time, if I'm being honest...but that's a rare commodity. I got a little last Saturday - some friends came over and minded the spawn while I went up to Mum's for an artists' market. It was nice. More, please!

It's looking like Someone will not be home until late on Thursday. It'll be a long, busy day for me - T is picking up the Evil Genius (the little dude doesn't want to go on this trip, and I figured he and his father could use some time together, so the boy will have ten days with his dad, all good), I need to get the trailer and van packed and hitched (imagine how fun that'll be, on my own!), get trash out, cat boxes cleaned, garden watered, and generally making everything ready, because we're leaving at 6 in the morning on Friday. Someone can sleep a bit in the van if the baby behaves herself. It's at least a fourteen hour drive. I hope to do it all, but realistically we'll be lucky to make ten or twelve hours. Sprout starts to get pissed off and tells us about it, and there's only so much of that we can take before we have to stop.

I'd love to help you get to sleep with more details, but I need to get off my tired arse and get to doing laundry, finish packing, and running errands.

What're your days looking like?

Thoughtfetti

Gah! I cleaned the shower drain today. Did you know shower drains have removable drain plates? I've lived here at Casa de Crazy for what, twelve years? I didn't know that... Anyway, I have long hair. Long hair, apparently, clog drains. Huh. So I noticed these two tiny screws and thought to myself "Self, if we remove these screws, I bet we could get that drain a lot cleaner than we are with these tweezers." Don't ask. Screws removed, I used pliers to reach down the drain. What? You think I'm sticking body parts down there?? I removed something roughly the size and shape of a ferret. Joy.

~~~~~

Today I was explaining what addiction is to the Evil Genius. Good grief, that's a hell of a concept to boil down to nine-year-old understanding. We finally concluded that addiction is when one's mind or body believes that it needs something in order to function when, in fact, that something is not only NOT needed to live, it is contrary to sustaining life.

~~~~~

Sprout outgrew her old car seat. Mum got her a new one. The new seat is huge! It bears more than a passing resemblance to a NASA launch seat

~~~~~

Crab legs are on sale at the market. Even on sale they're an extravagance. Do I dare?

~~~~~

I shucked corn for dinner tonight, and it brought me back to my childhood - we would shuck corn out behind the kitchen and feed the husks to the horses. They loved 'em. I miss Cole Walker's sweet corn...

~~~~~

I am supposed to take medication daily...twice a day, in fact. It's not that difficult a concept - take one pill in the morning and one in the evening, and hey-presto! Slightly better health! So why is it that as often as not I miss one or both pill-takings?

~~~~~

With Someone out of town, I have had the whole bed to myself. I get to wallow over half and acre (Queen sized bed) with impunity. With only one occupant, that bed is enormous. Fun as hogging the covers is, I will be very happy when he's home.
~~~~~

I adore listening to my children at play. Sprout is laughing like a maniac right now. It's beautiful

~~~~~

If wool comes from sheep, does steel wool come from really tough sheep?

And why don't sheep shrink when it rains?

Veneer

It's so thin. Transparent, barely there, it gives so easily.

But it's all we have, sometimes.

I am her source of comfort, her solace, the one she turns to when she doesn't understand.

I am Mama, source of all things good.

I'm not supposed to break. The world is full of monsters. She shouldn't wonder if I am one of them.

Snug in my arms, breath slow and even, asleep, she trusts me still.

She saw the dark light that shines through the web of cracks and she trusts me still.

If the veneer crumbles and no one notices, does it count?

Update, Update, Keylime Pie?

Tuesdays usually mean a jaunt up to Mum's for the day. We run errands or hang out at her house doing crafty stuff, gossiping, and generally spending time together. I often bring the kids with me so Someone can have a quiet day.

Today, though, we opted out. Someone is out of town, Mum had weirdness with her voice, it was raining, and we both had things to get done. I'll haul the kids up there on Thursday, even if it's only to hook up the trailer and bring it back to the Casa (I need it here to pack for the event we're going to next week).

I decided I should try to update my phone.

What. A. Process.

Next time I need something to do on a rainy day, I'll refinish the floors. It'll be easier and take less time.

As I write this, the phone is supposedly restoring itself after the update is complete. I have been at it since late this morning! So maybe I have never, ever synched or updated it, and maybe that's a no-no...but good grief, even so, all dang day??

I need to clean some things off of the phone, like some of the over 2,000 photos. Wow. I had no idea there were so many. By later tonight, there will be far fewer.

It is taking long enough that I am wondering what to do while I wait. I'm thinking I should bake a keylime pie. Nothing says "updated phone" like keylime pie, right?

Just a Day

It has been an unremarkable day, really.

The clothes dryer crapped out this weekend - the brand new one - and a repair man came today to teach it the error of its ways. Seems the blower fan came unseated. Of course it did - what else would one expect from an appliance at Casa de Crazy?

I was told to expect the repair person between eight and noon. I woke up a few minutes after eight (don't be jealous, I was up until one-thirty, sewing), went out to the garage to move the old washer out of the way (fun, that, when one is moving the thing alone). He got here at about nine, so I had a little time to play with Sprout and ignore the dirty dishes left over from the weekend (I worked at the track all weekend, leaving house and kids to the tender mercies of Someone and Handy J. Very few dishes were done, but the children, critters, and Casa de Crazy survived intact).

Sprout slept through the night, so that was a bonus...I definitely think she's feeling better. She's certainly eating like crazy, making up for her loss of appetite/throwing up last week.

I put on a movie - Rango - for the kids this morning, to keep them occupied while the repair fellow was here. I had to shut the cats into my room. Bird was up on the couch, entranced. Sprout clambered up and settled in on his lap. Seemingly unaware, her put an arm around her, she leaned back and settled into him, and they watched the movie for about twenty minutes like that. I watched them watching the movie, my two kids together. Sweet.

The dryer was a fairly quick fix. The repair man helped me move the old one into the garage, and I'll get it over by the washer tomorrow so I can maybe park in the garage for a change.

A run to the bank (I was overdrawn, and this weekend garnered me some income to fill that hole), to the grocery store, then home, and it was nap time.

Laundry throughout the afternoon. A phone call or two. A friend came over for dinner, a nice distraction from the presence that isn't here right now.

Boring, huh?

One less day without Someone, who spent the night and today driving/riding with Handy J, on their way to Handy J's land which needs some maintenance.

There was no lottery winning, no phone call telling me I'm being published, no spectacular success or failure - just a day. I'll take it - I so often feel as thought I'm running along the razor's edge of disaster, a dose of ordinary makes a nice change.

Thoughfetti

I took Sprout to the pediatrician on Wednesday - turns out her cold turned into a double ear infection. Pink medicine twice a day since then and she's feeling better, if not completely well.

~~~~~

Someone is out of town until the fourteenth. We leave the fifteenth for Illinois and a ten day gig. This is going to be...interesting...

~~~~~

The brand new clothes dryer crapped out. Luckily Handy J was visiting and got the old one sort of working, so Someone could have clean clothes for his trip and I can catch up on the mountain of wash that needs doing. A repair person is coming in the morning...poor fellow, he has no idea what kind of gremlins inhabit this house...

~~~~~

I will get it all done...I will get it all done...I will get it all done...

~~~~~

The Evil Genius is nine going on fourteen - where the heck did that attitude come from?

~~~~~

I miss Someone - only gone a few hours, but I miss him.

~~~~~

I'm watching Eddie Izzard and now my sides ache. Some hurts are good ones...

~~~~~

Is it silly that I asked Someone to leave me a shirt he's worn so I could put it on a pillow and hold it while I slept?

Memorium

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 don't believe that wars are fought for ideal, but rather for political and/or financial gains. 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.

Sweet Horribles

She's got a fever.

She's been coughing so hard she vomits.

It's been a week. A cold, the pediatrician said.

She has a whine, a sort of coyote howl/wookie noise. Her voice breaks halfway through, and she somehow manages to make two noises at once, a dissonance that grates our ear bones and drives to our cores. We wince, grumble, cringe, sympathize, try to comfort.

Snot running out of her nose, she can't breathe well, so she doesn't sleep well.

Last night it was sleep for fifteen minutes, get up and rock the baby, get her settled, lie back down, repeat. Hours on end. Finally, she threw up in her crib. Too tired to think straight, I didn't wake Someone and have him hold her while I changed the crib sheets; I just cleaned her up and brought her to bed with us where she slept fitfully and I didn't sleep much at all.

She was hot to the touch. Bad Mama, I don't have a working thermometer, but even when I did I relied as much on the kiss-the-neck method of fever detection as any contraption. Yeah, yeah.

She vomited in her sleep again, coughing and choking as I got her up and caught it in my cover sheet, held her until she was quiet again. Later, we went into the living room so Someone could get some rest. I can lie on the couch with her...mostly. My butt sticks out over the edge and I have to balance myself carefully so I don't fall off but she is safe between me and the back of the couch, and as long as I don't move, she sleeps.

Of course, it is Sunday. A holiday weekend, no less. Of course the pediatrician's office is closed. Of course she does not seem sick enough to warrant an ER visit...yet...so it has been a worrying sort of day. What to do...

Late morning, Someone was up - he finally got a few hours of good rest - and I handed her off for the sake of a shower, of washing spit-up residue and snot and fever heat and sweat off of me, clean for a few minutes any way.

I came out of the bathroom to silence. Cautiously crept into the living room.

Nestled in her Papa's arms, limp and warm, she was asleep. Her cheek rested on his shoulder, his cheek rested on her soft little head. His eyes were closed, just being in the moment. I listened to her breath, soft, wet, rapid, almost panting.

I found the infant's ibuprofen. It helped a little - she drank some juice, ate part of a graham cracker, played a little, napped with me.

I am still debating whether we should drive to the ER. She's limp, listless, more than she's active. This child who runs, plays, babbles, laughs, and cries relentlessly through the day has been still and silent. It's the fever - it takes the fizz out of a body. I hate to use the ER as a doctor's office. If she's not much better by later tonight, I'll make the drive.

I hate it when my kids feel puny. I love it when she takes comfort in us, cuddled up close, wet little breaths rattling across our cheeks.

I need to go get more ibuprofen.

Safari, So Good

I'm feeling a little stressed, these days. Okay, so a little more stressed. I have a week to do the sewing that I would usually try to get done in a month because Someone is heading out of town for ten days on June 4, which means he'll be getting back the day before we have to head out to Illinois for a ten day band gig/gathering.

In that time I may or may not be able to do any sewing because the Evil Genius and Sprout insist on actually being fed from time to time, and they seem to want clean clothing as well. Also, there's the tiny matter of getting the trailer packed and down from Mum's to the Casa, and since the Evil Genius opted out of this trip and is staying with T, I have to get him packed as well. Then there's the pre-cooking for camping, and grocery shopping, and I may have forgotten to line up house/garden minders yet, so there's that, too.

Then, when we get back from Illinois, we will have a few days to do laundry and shop for more groceries before we haul out to Ohio for a show, which is where I'll be trying to sell whatever I managed to sew these next seven days.

Meanwhile, I also have a little once-a-month market to help Mum with while Someone's away, band rehearsals, and did I mention sewing?

So I was trying to get a start on that sewing. I got all the fabric sorted by category and color, made and inventory of what I have and what it'll be turned into, and hauled out the serger to get started.

One serger didn't come back from cleaning/service with the right plug/pedal combination, but luckily it can share the sewing machine's thingy. I don't usually use it since it's the smaller serger of the two I can use. The big serger was ready to go...but then it ran out of thread on one of the loopers. That means re-threading. On a sewing machine, this is no biggie - one thread, one needle, just follow the arrows printed on the machine if you're not familiar with it.

On a serger, though...hoooooie.

There are four threads, two for loopers and two for needles, and gods help you if you don't get them exactly right, in the right order. Talk about some thread-y chaos.

So I tried to re-thread the big serger, but it wasn't having any of me. Ack! Fine, I'll use the small one. Only, I took one of the thread cones from the small one to try and thread the big one, so now I have to re-thread the small one.

In the right order.

I have no manual.

There are four stations for thread cones. Were I designing one of these machines, the thread would go in order from left to right.

I did not design these machines.

An angry person with a grudge against sewers made these machines.

I tried for an hour to get it working, to no avail.

I cried.

I begged for mercy.

I may have offered to sacrificed a cat some M&Ms to it.

Then I realized...there is the Blue Nowhere!

O Great and Powerful Blue Nowhere, I cried, tell me true, in what order does one thread a White Speedylock?

And the Blue Nowhere, in the voice of Jeeves (of whom I ask many things) answered thusly: O confused and tearful woman, it is so - Upper Looper, Lower Looper, Right Needle, Left Needle, and here's a handy diagram to tell you which is which. Now dry your tears and gitter done.

And so I did.

Much serging commenced.

The next day, more serging...until there was a fabric snag, a pull, an ominous CRACK followed by a whinge and buzz that boded no good.

A needle broke.

Okay, okay, we're a big girl, we can handle this.

Umm.

How does one get the needle out?

Apparently I do not know that incantation...must have been out that day at Magical Serger Operation School. Hey, look, there's a screw on the needle holder thingy. Hey, look, here's a screwdriver. One plus one equals...umm...oh.

The needle holder thingy came off, alright. With the needles firmly entrenched in their nests, one sound one, one broken one waiting to get all stab-y with me if I didn't leave it alone.

There are two tiny, wee holes just above the needles. Hey, in my handy, dandy, sewing tools kit there's a sort of thinnish bit of metal that vaguely resembles a hex/Allen wrench if you have good eyes and don't squint too hard at it. Maybe that'll...hey! The needles fell out. Onto the carpet. Near my bare feet.

I need a magnet on a stick, but had to use my eyes instead. Found needles, tossed broken one, rummaged for new one, then...uh-oh...

How far into the needle holder thingy do they go? It has to be right or the thread won't catch or the needles will break. There's no line, not stop, nothing. Aww, dang.

Also, the needles have to go in before the thingy is put back, because otherwise they'll snag on the feed dog. Don't ask.

At this point, I am very happy that my sewing tools kit includes pliers, screwdriver, tiny, wee wrench thing, and a generous stoup of rum.

Needles back in place, silver screw retrieved from carpet, thingy tightened down and...

Oh, dear...

I need to re-thread it. Gulp.

Oh beloved Blue Nowhere....

I have now used a Sharpie marker (blue, of course) to mark the order of threading so I don't have to oil the machine after I've cried all over it again. I've had some more snags but have managed to stop before the looper is pulled into the needles, thus causing more breakage.

I may get one piece finished before next week. Where's that rum?
~~~~~
All of the above to say, thank goodness for iPhones, Safari, and the portable access to the Blue Nowere they provide, or I'd still be in tears!

Yellow

I'm something ob a blue person. You may have noticed my blog's color scheme? No? Take a look around, I'll wait.

See?

A touch blue, yes?

If you met me in real life (and those who do know me will confirm this, I am certain) you may notice a distinct and somewhat monochromatic color scheme to my attire. It may be a wee...erm...blue-ish. Sometimes there may be a touch of green or purple, but almost never red, yellow, or any other warm color. I am distinctly not a brown person, either. I like it fine on other folks, but it's just not for me. For a long time, I even had more than a little blue in my hair. Sigh. I miss that blue...but it was one of the first luxuries to go the way of the Dodo when things got...tight...around here.

When I wear jewelry (and it's rare), I wear silver and blue. Go figure.

It wasn't a conscious thing, this blueing. I have an old photo from my high school days in which I am wearing a brown and rust ensemble that I recall adoring. I have a few shirts that are entirely green, black, or purple, and a collection of t-shirts from my younger days that I keep for the sake of nostalgia. I no longer wear t-shirts of any color, at least not in public. I do have some over-sized t-shirts that I sleep in when we have company or are sleeping somewhere besides Casa de Crazy. I adore my 5X sleepers!

My favorite Morning Glories are the blue ones I planted a few years ago near the stairs. Most of the Iris planted near the mail box are blue or black.

Oddly, Rosie the Mule (my beloved Astro Van) is dark red. Just go to show love is colorblind.

Given the above, you wouldn't think I'd much care for this:

They planted themselves, appearing out of nowhere one year and propagating since. I think there are eight of them, now. I have left that patch of earth alone because I don't want to disturb them. They're the absolute last things I would have planted...but I adore them, so they stay.

Don't hold you breath for me changing my personal color scheme, though...unless you think blue is your hue...

Bob, Bob, Bobbin' Along

Woot! I finally got off me arse and got Bob the Wonder Computer hooked back up to the house, so I can blog and surf the net on my beloved laptop instead of the perfectly lovely, but not Bob, desktop machine. Yay!

Meanwhile, if you e-mailed, commented, or otherwise communicated with me electronically in the last few months and I haven't responded, I am working on it - I had a backlog of nearly 300 e-mails to go through, and it's taking me a minute.

Bob's old. He's slow. His battery is crapping out and his processor is slow enough to cause log jam whenever I try to navigate from one page to another...but I love him, and I'm delighted to have him back up and running. Now, if only I can get Sprout to give me a few minutes to blog every day, I'll feel golden...at least about blogging!

Baloney Baffles Brains

I'm just going to jump right in, here.

Cassa de Crazy does not have what you could call a household income. Because of that, we have to rely on the benevolence of family and the kindness of strangers for certain things. Things like health care.

In March I received a letter telling me that Sprout's Medicaid was terminated, effective at the end of March, and I should apply for the other low/no-cost coverage.

I called the alternative folks and was told that I could not apply for Sprout until the Medicaid had, in fact, run out, but they would take my information and send me the paperwork so I could be ahead of the game.

No paperwork ever arrived at Casa de Crazy - they sent it to T, because the Evil Genius is/was covered by the alternative, and they added Sprout to that account. More on that in a minute.

I called them again to ask for the paperwork, and was informed that it had been sent. Okay, then.

Fast forward a few weeks, to this morning. Sprout had an appointment for a check-up. Not having valid insurance means paying cash, of which I have none, so I once again called the alternative to find out what was going on.

Here's where it gets fun.

I have to have a letter from T that Sprout is once again in my custody because the alternative had her listed as in HIS custody, even though he is not her father. Hmm. I explained that he's not her father, and never was, hasn't lived with us in three years, and he never had custody of her to begin with. Doesn't matter...I must have a letter from him saying she is in my custody. WTF?? Then I was told I also have to have proof of income. How do I prove no income? I told the bureau-bot to whom I was speaking that we have no income. She curtly told me that I don't qualify for their coverage and should call Medicaid.

But Medicaid told me to call you, I said.

Well, I must have neglected to send them paperwork or something, she told me, because we don't qualify for the alternative and I have to apply for Medicaid, and meanwhile if I ever want to get Sprout on the alternative I will have to have a letter from T (who is not her parent and never had custody of her) that she is back in my household (although she was never gone) and that I am now (although I never wasn't) her primary parent, and he will STILL be considered the primary parent on the account despite the fact that I am and always have been the Evil Genius's custodial parent (for legal purposes, not because there's anything wrong with T) and he isn't Sprout's parent at all, and there's nothing I can do about that unless I want to terminate the account (and thus the Evil Genius's coverage) and reapply entirely. Oh, and they have recently announced that they are limiting or denying overage to new accounts because so many people need low/no-cost healthcare, they can't afford to cover us all.

I called Medicaid and got a long recording about paperwork that doesn't apply to me, and after two-and-one-half minutes of instructions could finally leave a message. They may or may not call me back today.

So I called the doctor's office and explained what was happening, and was told too bad, if there's no insurance we have to pay cash up front, period. They would be willing to cancel our appointment, though.

Sigh.

So now I'm waiting for a call from someone who will likely tell me I didn't send in the right paperwork or whatever (although I DID, in fact, sent in all that was required) and now have to donate a kidney and a rhubarb pie in order to re-process, and meanwhile Sprout escapes the immunizations and the needles that go along with them a little longer, so she's not too sorry about all this.

Y'all, I speak clearly. I don't stutter, mumble, or ramble. I am concise, and intelligent enough to understand what is required and to provide it. I am not confused by the reams or paperwork I have to deal with just to make sure my kids can go to the doctor if they need to. I don't have coverage, myself, and neither does Someone - we are adults and can just deal with whatever comes at us, thank you. Kids are different.

Why is it that I was not told that T was the primary parent? Why didn't the first agent I spoke to TELL ME that he would be listed as Sprout's primary parent as well, especially when I made it clear that she had a different father and a different last name? Why did I give MY address and phone number to these people only to have paperwork sent to T? Why do I have to have a letter from a man who is in NO WAY related to my daughter and has NEVER had custody of her so that I may procure coverage for her?

Argh!

Sigh.

Baloney baffles brains...

If you need me, I'll be in the corner, sucking my thumb and whimpering. Bring me a Mai-Thai, would you?