August 10, 2006
Just because I can (and I really, really wanna)...
Posted by: Stevie at 05:42 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Sometimes, I have such a juvenile sense of humor...
For instance, this shit made me laugh my ass off.
(I think that juuuust maybe the fact that it's being done to a guy named Mike might have made me laugh all the more, picturing a certain "Mike" I know...)
Posted by: Stevie at 05:03 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
August 09, 2006
I report, you decide...
I said I was gonna go walk the pasture and look for the still missing halter.
And, I did.
I once again walked the creekside in the big half of the field.
Kept criss-crossin' back and forth to the fence, crunching through underbrush, steppin' in mud... looking for that damned halter.
And, two rubber feed tubs that may have been left there, along the creek, to be swept away in any of the several floods we've had so far this year. While I was there, I groomed and sprayed both four-legged chucklefucks. Bo literally got pissed off at me when there weren't carrots in the bag I had with me.
It was CD's.
I kept pushing his lips off it and finally, he swung his head at me, ears back and mouth open. I slapped his lips for him for that, too. Then, a few minutes later, he gives me that shitty look again and I waved him off and he did it again!
I jumped up onto a log to tower over him and gave him hell, verbally.
As soon as I shook my finger at him, he laid his ears back again and I hollered, so he spun and hopped his ass at me. Spoiled little shit. All because he didn't get his 43 carrots this one time. Anyway, I fucked around out there til I had to piss like a race horse and needed more tea and I came home and did all that.
Pulled some chicken out to thaw for dinner, ate a little something real quick before I shook to death from a massive caffiene hit... shit like that. Then, I load back up, drive back down there, but this time, I parked across the road from a different gate, one we never use, really.
I drive past it every time I drive down the road, but we usually use the one closest to the Bosses house.
I'd just driven by this other gate three times in less than three hours. I park across from it, get my CD's loaded, get my shit together, grab the three cameras I had in Georgia so I can finish 'em taking pictures of the horses and exit the car.
I stick the extra CD's in the trunk and turn around to cross the road. I take one step and look at the gate and... there it is, on the hinge-side fence post... the halter I've been looking for for months.
Just sitting there, draped over the top of the fence post like it was dropped there from above. And, there ain't been ANYBODY out there, except some anonymous someone to bush-hog the field about a month ago, but I guarantee you that that halter has NOT been draped on that fence post for a month.
Even if I may have missed it, ain't no way everybody else who lives here all would, too. And, my hand to God, I did not see it there any of the three times I went by that gate today. But... however it got there... I've got Storm's halter back.
Finally.
Thank God. Now, I need to run to Giant.
And, get gas at Sheetz. Then come home and make dinner.
Then bake those cookies I wanted to bake earlier, maybe. It'll either be that, or going to bed while it's still light out and getting up at around 1, or 2, or 3 am. I've been doing that lately. Which reminds me, I also made a huge dent in the mess that is my disorganized bedroom earlier today, too.
Still hafta pick up a buncha paperbacks that were all stacked up that fell all over the damned floor and figure out exactly what to do with alla the clothes now that we lost the "dressing room"/extra bedroom since Jr. moved in. Now, I have stacks of clean clothes all over the place because there's only one closet and it's not huge by any means and only one dresser which is gorgeous, but again, not very "roomy", consequently, I have more clean clothes than places to put 'em. And, my bedroom looks like a jeans/Harley shirt factory threw up in there. Anyway... I gotta go. Wanna see if I can start the last camera with more pictures of the horses.
Then, it's on to dogs, then cats and birds and rabbits and shit. Car, too.
House, farm, every damned thing except me. And, the PAWS lady just called.
She's coming by to take another three cats to be "done".
If I'm not mistaken, these three brings it up to an even dozen so far.
Wow, man... She's gonna be here in an hour and a half, so I need to motor-vate. Back later. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 05:15 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
The next email/reply, which also became a post...
We were talking about things, signs, gifts from those who have passed...
I, on the other hand, get goofy shit, like lights going off or feeling like somebody is touching me (which I actually kind of like, but ya still can't prove that it happens, ya know?), smells, things like that.
Mostly what I get is literally hearing them speak in my mind.
I also feel them very strongly... I don't know how else to say it, except... inside of me. I just feel whoever it is and I can hear 'em talking and, several times, they've had things they needed said to people and I said those things to those people and they were floored by what I said.
Mind you, half the time, I had no idea what the hell I was even talking about, but, they did. One friend of mine, a guy named Tracey of all things, gave me a single earring he'd been wearing.
I put it in and a day or so later, I'm hearing this guy in my head, talkin' his ass off about Tracey.
So, I meet up with Tracey and tell him, "Look Dude, I have a buncha shit you need to hear, okay? I don't know who the hell it is (and, as I said this, I hear the name Terry in my head), but whoever it is wants you to hear this... Terry?" At the time, I'd only known Tracey for a coupla months or so and he'd never really spoken about Terry. A mutual friend of ours, Connie, may have mentioned to me that Tracey had a brother who'd died, but nobody had ever said the guys name... Anyway, I told Tracey that and he got this look on his face and I just went on...
I forget everything I said verbatim, but the upshot was that Tracey was doing something stupid and he damned well knew it and Terry was pissed because Tracey knew what was gonna happen and still he wouldn't knock it off and he really needed to before he got his ass killed. Tracey knew exactly what I was talking about immediately.
No question.
He knew what it all meant. I found out myself about a year later... when it was all in the paper.
Well, the end of it was.
The reason it all started, Tracey, wasn't mentioned, but the results were somewhat "spectacular". Seems that Tracey had been seeing a friend of his' wife behind the guys back.
The guy is a fireplug/weight-lifter/not-entirely-mentally-stable-to-begin-with kinda guy.
His wife is a beautiful blonde.
Nice lady, too... I knew her, too. Anyway, the husband knows something is going on and he tells Tracey, among others, that if he ever finds out who it is cheating with his wife, he's gonna kill 'em and shit like that.
Tracey just plays along with it. Meanwhile, the wife person decides to leave the nutjob husband and the husband goes apeshit. Held her and one of the kids hostage for a while, cops surrounding the house.
He lets them go then tries to blow his own head off and mostly misses.
Fucked himself up royally, but he lived.
Ended up in a psychiatric place/prison and I don't know what became of Tracey or the guys wife, but... I told him what Terry said and he just didn't listen. I do this "tell people shit and they don't wanna listen" shit all the time. Just last Friday, I told George he needed to change one of his tires before he left for Jersey.
It's been making his truck wobble for a week or so and once, when I was in it, it occured to me that it could be belt-slippage, where the steel belts literally shift inside the rubber and creat a bulge and fuck up the way the tire sits and rides and performs... and they can lead to a blow out. So, he thinks he's lost a weight off of a tire, I think it's this belt slippage.
He comes in the day he went to Jersey and says, "You're right. I looked at the back of the tire and you can see it... it's a mess in there." I, knowing how long it's been like this and what the end result will be if he doesn't change it, said, "You got a spare? Gonna change it? You really should, ya know." He, being tired and not looking forward to driving to Jersey in the first place, let alone leaving later than he wants to changing a tire, says, "I'll do it tomorrow, at Pop's." I said, "You need to do it now, Duuude. You wanna do it while you're the one in control of the situation, not when the truck is in control and can choose to MAKE you change it along the Pa Turnpike or someplace..." He says, "Don't jinx me..." "I'm not jinxing you.. *giggle* I'm just tellin' you you really oughta change that tire before you leave, is all." Which, he didn't.
Which he DID hafta change on the way to Jersey, just across some big-assed bridge. *siiiiigh* Back when I lived in Jersey, I used to drive around sometimes, at night, just to be driving.
I'd cruise back to the rural area where I'd grown up and almost always, as I was driving around, letting God call the directions, no real destination in mind, I'd find animals that needed help, whether it was a dropped off cat or dog to a turtle halfway across the road to my Uncle Henry's horses being loose one time.
Another time some other guy's horse was loose. Jumped over the hood of the car in front of me.
I nailed the brakes and saw which way he went and went after him.
I had a good idea whose horse he was and I parked, grabbed my own halter and lead outta my car and set off.
Caught up with the dopey beast after he'd reached a paddock with a mare in it and jumped the fence to be with her.
(I knew which one he was because he was all sweated up and blowing hard still...) I go in, halter him and get him outta there.
Took him back to where I figured he lived.
I was right and the guy, I think his name is Kenny Shand, he's Austrailian and has that accent and he was glad to have Sandbox back in one piece. *coupla minutes later*
Gawd, don't I go ON sometimes? But yeah, I do know things I "can't" know quite often. Like when George's ex-exwife, Andi, was scared shitless because she'd found a lump at the very edge of her breast, right by her underarm.
She was telling me about this, on the phone, nearly in tears and I told her with all the confidence in the world that she was gonna be fine. It was NOTHING.
Not a tumor, not cancer... it was nothing. And, it was... nothing.
A swollen gland/lymph node/whatever. And, Eric's bosses wife went in for heart surgery.
Larry, the boss, was scared to death.
I wasn't.
Not one bit.
I KNEW she'd be fine and she was and still is. Somehow... in some way I can't seem to define, I know these things. They're real, they happen and I'm right a LOT. Yet, not even that- my track record of being correct fully 95% of the time- gives this knowledge any validity.
I still have to quailfy it by calling it "this which I 'can't' know", lest I sound like a complete fruitcake, I suppose... Yet, it's real.
As is my knowing Rob in the exact same way I know these other things. There is knowing something intellectually and then there's knowing something in your gut or heart.
And, even if you can prove what you know intellectually in a court of law, you can still have a more sure, more perfect knowledge of something knowing it in your heart. Maybe that has something to do with there almost always being room for doubt intellectually, and there being no room for doubt at ALL about the things you know in your heart. But, the way I know Rob is better than if I had ever met him in person.
My vision, my knowledge, of him was never clouded by anger or hurt feelings or sex or neither of us being what we'd imagined... it was unsullied by any of that kinda stuff. It was pure.
Still is.
All heart and perception and consciousness... no "buts" or "He was mean that time" or "that bad thing happened"... none of that shit from my brain to mess up what I know to be true of Rob. I knew HIM.
Undernearth all the bluster, bullshit and shouting.
And, I loved him.
Still do.
Always will. And... I told him this many times. I told him what he'd done for me, what he meant to me the best I was able to articulate it, and made sure he knew that all I wanted from him was the opportunity to somehow try to even begin to pay him back for all he'd given me. I'm so glad he knew that. And, I didn't even know to what extent he did know it.
I keep finding out from Cat a little at a time (and he's not the only one) the things Rob told him about me.
About what he thought of me and how he felt about me and that he called me his friend. His friend... I can't possibly tell you how grateful to God I am that Rob knew that.
And, that I got to know that he felt that way. The best, maybe the only good, part about this is that I can continue to be the same kind of friend to Rob that I always was. I didn't need to be stuck up his ass to defend him and love him and know him and resepct him.
I just did it because... that's whatcha DO with a man like him.
IF you love him with no strings attached, no ulterior motives in mind, purely for the sake of loving him because he's a live human being, a man whose been beat halfway to hell and back and is still standing, defiant in the face of life and trying to keep moving forward. He was fuckin' HEROIC in his refusal to be beaten. A man like Rob, you couldn't help but love if you really saw who you were looking at.
You love him with everything you are, but you don't fall IN LOVE with him because you have to resepct the fact that he loves Jennifer and always will and no matter how pretty or nice or incrediable you may be, you'll never be able to measure up to that woman, nor take her place in his heart, so you just have the sense not to go there.
Besides, if you do, you MUST know that WHEN, not if, it doesn't work out, it's gonna be as public as you're getting with him was and it'll probably be ugly for a while, too. It's the only way he's ever been shown to end things. You KNOW that because you've read him and you care enough to comprehend what he says. Or, I do, anyway. When you are able to know a man like Rob and love a man like Rob without getting your own agenda mixed up in it, it is one of the best gifts you'll ever give yourself.
And him. And, this is one of the two top reasons why I'll never give this up. Let's say, for the sake of arguement (or lack thereof, actually), that I'm pro-Rob 200%, okay? One 100% of that is because I'm not willing to relinquish the gift I was given in knowing Rob. The other 100% comes from the fact that he'd expect no less from me as his fiend and I know that. Therefore, not only is it not safe for anybody mess with Rob til I'm dead, they ought not feel too secure in the knowledge they'll get away with after I'm dead, either. Rob is the second legendary man (at least within the world each of them lived in) that I've been called a friend by.
(The other is Andy Harris, the guy in uniform on my sidebar.) Both of these guys were much maligned, beat up, run over by life and the family court system, trying to live with alcoholism to varying degrees and valiant in their efforts to survive, let alone "win". Both of them had their trolls, the ones who'd want to hurt them more, drag them back down to their level, cause them anguish. Both of them died too soon. And, both of them were loved by me.
Defended, stood up for, explained by, understood and accepted by... loved... by me. Not that I think that's such a big to do, it's just something, another thing, they had in common. One more thing they have in common is that just because neither of them is here any more, and maybe even moreso because they're not, my friendship with them does not end.
My defense of them, my understanding of them, my loving them does not stop. To try to cause either of these two men any further injury by speaking ill of them, marring their memories, trying to make these guys into something they weren't-monster or saint- none of that needs to go on where I can know about it.
It won't lead to anything good, if it does. Andy is pretty safe. I don't go to Jersey often, to Cowtown ever more rarely and he's not known on the internet, except for by me, mostly. But... Rob? I get nauseaous/pissed thinking of all the trolls he had.
All those "people" who had nothing better to do than to fuck with him...
gawd. As long as I know they still exist, I'll not let my guard down when it comes to Rob like I have with Andy.
I love the guy too much to even want to know how to at this point. Continuing to love him and be the friend I was to him when he was here is the LEAST I can do.
And, I'll do it gladly every day that God gives me to do so. The most I can do is learn from this, let Rob continue to show me the way and become a better person for it.
This, I'm working on. And, again... there's a large part of this I wanna post now.
This is becoming kinda cool.
I write TO YOU and am able to open up and get stuff said that I need expressed and I can do it in the correct manner because I'm saying it to you, then I can also post it and it fits in with what I do at Xfire in the first place.
Perfect. It gets my points across without having to be too specific.
And, the more I explain shit to you, the better I understand it myself. So, thank you for this.
I feel better and I wasn't even aware of how badly I needed to get this said.
*deeeeeeep breath* And now, I'm gonna go bake cookies again.
And, if it's as "not hot" out today as it was yesterday, I think I'm gonna go search the pasture later for the two feed buckets and the still missing blue halter. I miss you a lot, Rob and I love you even more than that. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 06:35 AM | Comments (1725) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
.August 08, 2006
An email that turned into a post...
Hey... How YOU doin'?
I'm okay... so far. Yeah, I've been associating Gunsmoke with Rob for a coupla/few years, now.
He reeeeally liked that show a LOT.
Talked about it all the time.
I even remember watching a Gunsmoke marathon "with" him once, when he was feeling poorly and watched it on TVLand.
He mentioned it and I tuned it in, too. I think I mostly just did that that time because he was feeling so sick, like I could somehow connect with him in there somewhere and will him some strength or something. After that, any time I happen to hear the theme song, I always see him in my mind. And, now when I watch it, it's "for him", much the same way I'll still, to this day, smoke a doob or drink a beer or whatever, for someone I've loved who died YEARS ago. I think at this point, I am merely used to there being no new posts.
I also think my heart believes he only quit blogging, not living. I still get overwhelmed by feelings of massive, all-consuming disbelief when it sneaks in that he really is dead (and hasn't come to see me yet, damn it).
The oddest things trigger it, too.
I never know when or what it's gonna be, but, sometimes, I just wanna... hell, I don't, haven't and probably never will know "what" it is I wanna do, except somehow have the ability to change it ALL.
To "fix" this.
For him.
And me. Ellison sent me a DVD with Rob's TV news interview on it and I got it a week ago.
There's a picture of Rob on the top of the disk in a shirt I think I have now, playing guitar and smiling BIG.
He's in the sunshine, wearing dark glasses and no hat.
Silver haired, head and face.
I have it sitting about a foot away, in a cubbyhole in the top of this computer desk.
It's standing up, leaning on a mug fulla pens and shit, facing me so I can see Rob simply by averting my eyes.
Don't even need to move my head.
(Same goes for the Gut Rumbles bumpersticker. It's directly above my monitor, pinned to the top front of the desk.) That DVD? Haven't been able to watch it yet. I've thought about it several (hundred) times.
I know I've seen the interview before on Youtube.
And, I know that Steve put a montage of pictures behind it. That'd be tough enough to not die during, let alone if he added music in the background. I'm scared. I love knowing he's right there, but I'm scared to watch this thing. (Christ... I'm tearing up just typing about it...) If there's music, it's gonna totally kill me.
As opposed to if there isn't, 'cause then it'll just plain "kill me". I just had the letters he wrote me from Willingway in my hand yesterday.
They didn't even make me cry the way the idea of seeing him with possibly sad music in the background does. God, I can't even let myself think about him if I happen to have music playing... unless it's a song like "Crazy Train" or Jimmy Buffet or Skynyrd or the Allman Bros. or other kinds of "southern fried rock", "rock" being the operative word in that sentence. If I were to think about him while listening to Chicago or the Bee Gees or any number of other songs/artists of the "ballad" variety, I'd hafta die to make the pain stop, I just know it. However and on the other hand....
When I was younger (and up to and including the guy I dated prior to getting with Eric), I had this habit of, when a guy and I broke up, I'd play every love song I owned, which was considerable.
I had 'em all.
Bread
Chicago
Journey
Heart
Air Supply
Compilation tapes of love songs, 70's songs, etc. I'd go to my stereo, load it up with this stuff and play those songs and just all but DIE and get it the hell over with. It could take anywhere from 12 hours to a few days, but, when I came out the other side, I was fine.
Better than in the very first place.
Stayed friends with damned near every guy I ever dated or tried to love.
And, nine outta ten times, I even found something to learn from it all. I wonder if I could do that again now? I also wonder if how busy I've been lately, say for about the last week (or, "about the same amount of time the DVD's been here"), has anything to do with my trying to have a "legitimate excuse" (and, how's THAT for an oxymoron?) to not watch the DVD?
I'm too "busy".
Too busy cleaning shit.
Cleaning shit that, yeah, it's nice to have clean, but is NOT life and death. And, about doing that... lowering my head and "bulling", pushing, shoving, POWERING my way through the heartbreak of losing Rob? Well, let's put it this way... For the first time EVER, I'm not positive it'll work.
More to the point, I don't know this time that I'll be able to make it.
Every time before this, when it was just a stupid breakup, I knew it'd work and that I'd survive just fine. I don't know any of that this time. I've also never had to even think about this kinda stuff with anyone else I've lost to death.
Everybody else, I got... not "over", but "okay with" sooner than later and even easier as the years rolled by.
So, by theory at least, Rob should be a snap, right?
I've lost more people than I can even remember anymore, I never met him in person, I was AT the funeral...
This should be almost easy to handle. But, it is NOT.
Not even a little bit. Quite frankly, losing Rob was like losing every single person I know who has died all at once.
If those hundreds of people all died at one time in a plane crash or something, it wouldn't impact me the way losing Rob has... is. Always will, probably. Only thing I know for sure is that Rob's not done teaching me, changing me, making me better, yet. If I do manage to survive ever actually dealing with his death, the revelation, the lesson, the change in it will be so massive... it has to be slow, because it's going to end up being so fundamental, so foundational, such a big difference in me and my life, that if I were to "get it" all at once, it'd be too much. But, just knowing that there IS something there to be done, to be learned helps me to not have to simply deny the truth, no matter how badly I want to this time. That, and the fact that when it hurts the most, when my heart is shattered all over again and breathing is a chore and my mind aches with the enormity of it all, I feel Rob too.
Almost like a touch... a hand on my shoulder or on my hair or a warmth that seems to envelope my heart like it's trying to heal it and I know. I know it's him and that he's here, but I want to SEE him. Out of the hundreds (literally hundreds) of people I know who've died, there've only been four I wanted with all my soul to see again.
Mike Robbins, my first serious boyfriend.
Walt Borland, my very best friend, ever.
Andy Harris, the other half of me that I lost way too soon.
And, Rob. I have dreamed of the first three over the years, but I wanna see Rob now.
Ya know what I mean?
Like, the pull to want to hear him is so strong, if I could locate a reputable psychic in the area, I'd take her one of his shirts and a pack of his cigarettes, maybe his glasses, and see what she can tell me.
And now, I'll be keeping an eye peeled for a psychic as I drive around town...
(*grin* I will, I know me.)
Posted by: Stevie at 02:15 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
August 07, 2006
Here we go again....
The theme to "Gunsmoke".
Damned near every day of my life. I've never been a "gotta watch it" fan of Gunsmoke, but... it's okay.Like Bonanza is.
And, usually, when I hear the theme song of a show and I'm not a "gotta watch it fan", I just aim the remote without really looking and switch to the "other" channel (whatever comes up by pushing the "back" button). But... for some reason... with Gunsmoke, I can't bring myself to actually push any buttons. I hear the theme start and my brain says, "Need to change this..."
My hand grabs the remote and aims it in the general direction of the TV, then, as I'm still hearing it, Rob comes into it and I "see" him watching it, or toddling off to the bathroom during the theme song or being out in his kitchen, hearing it come on and hurrying up so he doesn't miss it and I just can't push the button to make it stop or go away. Then, I glance over in time to see Festus or I hear his voice and that clinches it. I set the remote back down and leave it on. Probably more for Rob than for myself. I may not watch every minute, but it feels right to leave it on. Same way having a ball game on the TV, blasting, can bring my Pop-pop back to me for an afternoon. And, what's this, all of a sudden?
There's no reason for this, now....
My period is gone, my house is clean, everything is at least "okay" if not "right" with my world and.... I'm in tears? Because of "Gunsmoke"? God...
Posted by: Stevie at 05:23 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
August 06, 2006
I've got about three hours...
Then, George's 'rents will be here.
All I need to do is wash a few dishes, the dog, pick the cat boxes, clean out the duck pool and put some crap in the dumpster. Oh, and I need to vacuum right quick, too. And, I already have a huge pot roast/shoulder roast/hunka beef in the crock pot along with a few 'taters, a coupla carrots, onion and lotsa 'shrooms.Just wish they were the magic kind... Anyway, I already have that goin'. I need to remember to get Pop's apple bread shit made, too. I think what I'm gonna do, basically, is: all the "inside the house" shit first, then go do the duck pool, trash and whatever else "outside" needs to be done... like feeding the
We went from forrest green to off-white in the front room/diningroom and it's made a world of difference in the way the room looks overall.
Pretty nice. Oh yeah... I also cleaned out my trunk yesterday.
Well... Vic's trunk, but... Now... is that everything... for now? Seems like it. Cool. Back later... Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 10:34 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
August 05, 2006
Hello again...
I'm awake again.
Finally died at about 6am or so.Slept for a long time, too. Got up, got to talk to Cat, got the cat (Lamar) and her kids outta my room, actually did a "hairstyle" with my hair, dusted off the car, got Jr. some of his cash so he could go to the go-kart races with another kid who works here and am currently waiting for Eric to get outta the shower so we can go to both stores, Giant and Wally-world. *coupla minutes later*
Well, of course.
I just went and got a cuppa coffee, so naturally Eric's done now. "I'm ready any time you are", he says. "Soon as I get this cuppa coffee down my neck, Dear..."
(And, burn this bowl, type this post, heft that barge, tote that bale...) My car is so clean now, that I feel like I've stolen a "real" cop car. Then, I remember that there ain't no real cop car on the PLANET this clean and I feel better again. That dash looks so nice, all shiny and clean. Then, I get outta the car and walk into the super-scary-clean house. Too cool. Cat asked me where alla this energy is coming from.
Damned if I know, I'm just ridin' it for all it's worth. Hope it continues forever, too. And, have y'all noticed a certain "tension" or "alluding to" that I seem to be doing lately?
Like... about sex? Maybe it's just me. But, my little friend is gone, all the humans in this house are gone except one... the one I'm "allowed" to get nekkid and do things with, in fact... *weg* Sooooooo... I think I'm gonna. Matter of fact, I even found the camera for this computer.... Not that I'm saying there's any direct correlation between the two... *w-"er"eg*
(wicked-ER evil grin) What'd
Remember "parking"? Dark, remote, peaceful, private (mostly), radio on, jeans usually hangin' offa one leg- unless you're really "into it"... then they're balled up on the floor somewhere- and either steamed up windows or the night sounds coming in the open windows...
Man. I miss the river...
The Delaware river behind Ft. Mott. Huge dike, with roads on a few different levels.
Tons of privacy, yet out in the wide-assed open.
Unobstucted view of the river as far as you can see in both directions... It's amazing there. *sits thinking for a moment* We have a creek here.
Haven't noticed any deer stands, though... *grin* Anyway... parking was cool.
(And, why do I now hear Beavis and Butthead laughing?) Gotta do that again.
Soon. But, after the store and shit. Which means I need to shaddap and go, I guess. So, I'm gonna. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 06:40 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Am I awake again? Oh, man...
There must be something on the livingroom carpet my eyes don't care for much.
I fell asleep on it a few hours ago and when I woke up, my eyes were just full of "tears".Not that I was crying... I just couldn't get 'em dry.
And, I sounded like I had a "nose cold" inside my own head for a while, too. Okay now though.
Just can't believe I'm awake again. Must be, though.
Somebody's taping "Taps" and I suspect it's me.
Taping "Taps" in here and watching "Roseanne" out in the kitchen. So... what the fuck have I been doing? Klee-NING. God Almighty. Cleaning, cleaning and cleaning some more.
Then, baking cookies. I've got this house so clean, it's outright frickin' scary.
Same goes for Vic. In here, I've used degreaser and cleaned every surface in the kitchen... cabinets, appliances, floor... whatever.
If it could be, it was wiped down.
Same went for the bathroom. Front room/diningroom... keeping up quite well with the cats.
Same for the livingroom.
Not only am I still a step ahead of the cats, I'm also at least keeping pace with the guys.
Whose number has mercifully dropped back to two til Sunday, then it'll be back to the "normal" (and I use that word veeeeerrrry loosely) three. So yeah.
The "houseguests" are gone.
*whew* And, Vic looks like he just rolled offa the showroom floor.
AND, I cleaned a buncha stupid toolboxes outta the garage so I can fit all of Vic inside.
Before, with the stupid tool boxes, the last 8 or so inches of Vic stuck out, under the "bird tree" and he got shitted up in no time. After bustin' my ass on him yesterday (or when the fuck ever it was), I parked him in the garage and went back out this past afternoon to finish him up and... *AARRGGHH!!*... there was bird poopage on the last six inches of the back deck.
(And, yeah, I did pull forward far enough that time to have to front bumper up against the stupid toolboxes...)
I saw the shit and said, "ENOUGH!" and out went the toolboxes, into the bay next door... right on the other side of the wall, lest any of you men think I went insane and got rid of tools. I just got 'em the hell out'n my way. Then, I finished Vic's interior.
Floor incuded. Still hafta go get more cleaning wipes and do the insides of the front and back window, but... my gawd, that car DO look niiiiiice. I think I'm gonna wipe the dust off tomorrow and wax him again.
See if I can get the shine any deeper. Meanwhile...
I finished Vic, slid him ALL THE WAY IN... (*shudder*) to his new "home" and came in and grabbed a shower and started baking. The house I'd already finished; dishes, laundry, cat boxes, floors both vacuuming and mopping, trash patrol... the whole nine. Done. Meanwhile meanwhile, yesterday PAWS came and took three girls to be "done".
Brought 'em back around 6:00pm (earlier) this evening and everybody is fine. In fact, the girls got home just as the (extra) boys were leaving... Anyway, so far I've made a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies and a batch of Tollhouse.
About to go make a batch of "special dark chocolate chips" Tollhouse, then another batch of the other two again. At some point, I need to go to the store and git some shit, but nothing I hafta have in the next few hours, so I'll go later. Muuuuch later. When George gets back from Jersey on Sunday, his parents will be with him.
Pop is trailering my old white Firebird up here for George because he's selling it to Jr. and Pop is also buying a tractor and trailering that back to Jersey.
Meantime, they'll be here with George about noon-ish and I told 'im I'd have a pot roast in the slow-cooker, timed to be done by then.
And, I know Pop likes those "bread" mixes, like banana walnut or whatever and if I can find one that's "apple themed", I wanna make him a loaf with real apple slices in it and cinnamon/sugar sprinkled on top.
He'll like that.
Pop's cool. Oh and my little terrorist buddy seems to have fucked off yet again, yay that. (And, is it just me or is it weird that I go from my (still current 'cause I ain't divorced yet either) in-laws coming to my period going?) *several minutes later* God Bless Juan Valdez, his donkey, the guy who invented Coffeemate, as well as the inventor of Sweet-n-Low and the Folger family, especially Gibby. I do love me some gooood hot coffee. God, I can't believe it's almost time for me to make sure Eric gets up. Ya wanna know two of the coolest things about having Jr. here? For one thing, Senior can no longer get away with his little "bullshit behaviors" he likes to pull alla time.
Like, sighing in a disgusted manner if asked to do something, then trying to play it off lke he was only breathing when I mention it, or, leaving the room/house/car-at-60-mph/whatever in a snit for some arcane reason, with only ME noticing it.
Junior does now, too.
And, it is SUCH a relief to have someone to exchange glances, like "wtf?", with when Senior does this shit.
Not that it for one minute has made any change in Senior's propensity to do this shit, but it is kinda fun to watch him stammer twice as much trying to deny both of our looks of incredulity. The other fun part I could get rich off of is if I were given even as little as a nickle for every time I have said, "Gee... wonder where he gets that?" in response to Senior's own look of bewildered astonishment at some of the weird shit Jr. does that just happens to be the EXACT SAME KINDA SHIT SENIOR DOES. For instance... Jr. falls back to sleep immediately upon you ceasing to speak to him much to his father's consternation.
Dad looks at ME as if wishing an explanation for this behavior and I just hold up a mirror and show him the answer, giggling like a mad bitch the entire time. It's a flat-out fuckin' BLAST to watch this shit. In so very many ways, thanks to Eric Sr. I really DIDN'T need to nor did I miss out on anything by not having kids. I get to know how my Dad has felt for YEARS because of the silly shit I do by dealing with Eric.
And, now I get to watch "my kid's" kid drive HIM nuts. Priceless... Anyway...
This may very well turn out to be another day of miracles.
Senior is already up.
He was down here just a minute ago.
Mumbled something about going to get Jr. Hope they ain't in the "library".
Gonna get crowded real soon, if they are....
Won't stay crowded for very long, though... *grin* And, on that note, I'm outta here. Back later. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 03:04 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
August 04, 2006
Done and done...
Car and house are now as close to perfect as I care to get 'em.
I'm about to go get an almost pure cold shower, then start the cookies. Ankles still look like they belong on a cow. Back later. PeacePosted by: Stevie at 01:57 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
August 03, 2006
The outside of the car is white again and my shoulders are tight...
I just scrubbed that car for an hour.
Used this purple degreaser/soap shit and a used scrubby-sponge from in the kitchen and got alla the specks, smears, dirt, bug guts and bird shit offa my car.
I got so many of those nasty specks off that it damned near hurts your eyes to look at it now. I'm about to go wax it.
Twice, if I can before noon. At noon, Eric needs to run down to the Boss's place and put the horses in. When he gets back, if I haven't done it already, I'll start on the interior. When I ran to the store for the wax (no, I didn't have any...), I grabbed the crap you'd need to bake cookies.
Toll house with the mini-chips and oatmeal raisin. So, can somebody run right over here and make 'em, please? Me makin' 'em'll happen sometime after I'm able to get a shower and wash my too long, too thick, ain't EVER cuttin' it again HAIR. Speaking of hair... hey, Paul.
Gotta ques'sion... Is there a way that we (and yeah, I might really be able to do it myself if you send me the html of either new picture...) can install one of those two "glamour shots" now?
(I know I'm a pain right in da ass, but, man... I can't wait to see one up there... *grin*) Anyway... off to wax Vic.
Twice if I can. Back later. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 09:00 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Ugh...
Hey.
How're y'all? I'm still kinda "stuffed" feeling and my shins/ankles/feet are still swollen, but not as bad as yesterday.It's IS getting better. This, I know because Piss Fest '06 has begun. That's fine with me though.
I'd rather hafta piss every 15 minutes than store the stuff in my legs. Got the two kinds of mac and cheese made.
That's with and without keilbasa in it.
I tried a little of the stuff with the keilbasa and it is good. Now, I'm baking a ham. Baking a ham and watching my Partridge Family DVDs. Also washing dishes, peeing a lot and getting ready to pick the kitty potties. I think sometime after the guys get up and go outside I'm gonna vacuum.
Needs it.
Then, if I have any back left at all, I could try out my new mop. Had to get rid of the other one.
It was a sponge mop and I'd had it for a while.
Didn't see any replacement heads at the Giant, so I just grabbed a new one that has a nice sized scrubby thing on it in addition to the mop part, so that'll make the kitchen floor that much easier. And, I still can't get over how much better the stupid bathroom looks now. Every time I go in there, it's just... (still) wow. And, ya know what?
I need to work that magic on my poor grody-lookin' car. (Grody? Did I really just use the word "grody"? Dear Gawd...) It's not like I haven't made a half-assed effort to keep it semi-respectable lookin', but... those limp bristled excuses for brushes at the car wash just don't cut it very well. I get a better result from the high-pressure rinse spray. What I need to do is quit wastin' quarters and break out widda hose and a bucket of degreaser/soap and apply some elbow grease. Same goes for the interior. I have all the shit I need to do it.... except excess energy. Hmmmm....
Maybe if I get it washed before 8am, it'll be "cool" enough still to get it finished, inside and out.
If I get started in the backyard as soon as it starts to get light out.... Well.
Good.
Another "project". I'll letcha's know how it comes out. Okay, so now the plan is: Wake up the
Once they're gone, get my car-washing-shit together and get changed and take Vic into the backyard.
Wash Vic.
Resist the urge to hose out the interior because of the rubber floor because you KNOW water'll get up under the dash somehow and drown something important. Use towels or something to clean it out. (Vacuum first, then damp towels, maybe?...)
Bring Vic back out to the side of the house to vacuum.
Do the interior too, with the AmourAll cloths.
Windows with Glass Plus cloths. And... I dare me to wax Vic, too. *deep breath*
Man. That's a lotta shit. Oh, and after the car is done is when I "get to" do the floors in here.
'Cause, if I do the floors first, it'll be too hot to even start on Vic, let alone finish, so... car first, then inside of the house with the a/c. Hope I have car wax. Oughta go find out now, then if I don't, I'll still have time to get it at Giant.
Along with milk.
And, some damned other thing that I can't remember right this second. Anyway...
I'll be back... some day. I'll be the one with the really shiny car that I can no longer get in or out of gracefully due to having destroyed my back in the process of making said car shine.
I may be crippled after this, but, I'll be stylin'.
It'll be nice to see once again (for, I think the second time since I started driving this car) what it looks like cleaned up. I remember being impressed by it last time it was all perfect lookin'. Then again, I also remember how awesome the dash of the Bird looked, too, when it was all clean and lit up at night.
*sigh* But, that was then, this is now...
(is a song by WHAT "group"?) Forgit the Bird and let's just see how cool Vic can look, shall we?
Yes. And, now it's time to go get Eric up so he can get everybody else up and outta here and go see if I do have any car wax. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 03:03 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
August 02, 2006
Randy scouse git...
I love you, Micky Dolenz.
And, I had no "Alternate Title" for this... whatever it's gonna end up being, so I went with the original title of the song as a title for this post. Don't know what I'm talking about? Guess that means you've deprived yourself the pleasure of reading Micky's autobiography? Well, don't worry about it.I've read it at least a hundred times, so you're excused. Briefly, Micky wrote a song about being in England and titled it "Randy Scouce Git".
Record company execs vetoed that title and told Micky to come up with an "alternate title". So, he did.
He called the song "Alternate Title". Then, since I couldn't think of an "alternate title", I went with randy scouse git and... oh, never mind... Anyway...
still alive... so far.
still cleaning... things I've never cleaned before the way I'm doing it now.
still smokin'... so much so that my chest feels achey on toppa which, I feel bloated like I drank a whole keg of beer or something, thanks to my little terrorist asshole once-a-month visitor.
still having to contend with other annoying "period" symptoms... only now, instead of an attitude like Animal Mother on speedballs, it's my ankles and feet now.
"Swelled?", you ask.
"Swelled?", I snort back. "They passed "swelled" and entered into "what the fuck, man?" territory YESTERDAY." Gawd, I hate this.
I'm just glad it's not like this every time.
I feel so bloated and stuffed full... of what, I don't know... it's tiring, in and of itself.
Let alone the heat lately. BUT... I've been cleaning things around here that were thought to be lost causes. We have some hard, harsh, icky water around here, apparently.
If the shit it does to sinks and toilets is any indication, we're all gonna die from water-poisoning. Our water is so hard... how hard is it?... it's so hard, it makes the toughest, most hard core inner city youth look like a helmet-wearin', middle-class pansy-ass by comparison. Nothing personal against either of the aforementioned groups of humans...
I'm just sayin'... Not only have I still managed to maintain the house since I cleaned it last week, I'm also doing things that have needed to be done the whole time we've lived here, but I've just never really "seen" them before.
Or, I got used to 'em to looking like shit. Like, I never really noticed how grungy-lookin' my big cabinets in the kitchen are. Like the ones under the sink. And, next to the stove.
They all have white fronts and they all looked like shit. They don't now, though. Fridge is the same way.
I keep the inside clean anyway.
But... I happened to really LOOK at the outside of it and oh my gawd... When was that thing outside playing touch football in mud? Well, okay... maybe it's not that bad, but still... good lord, ya know? But... this ain't SHIT, compared to what I did yesterday.
Or, was it Sunday? Whatever. I don't know what got into me, but, I was in the bathroom, looking at the "all-but-green" sink and toilet and thinking about how GROSSLY INEFFECTIVE most "lime and rust stain removers" really are and suddenly... I had an idea. An idea that worked and that led to a two hour excursion into "I'll-bet-not-even-Joan-Crawford-ever-did-THIS-shit" cleaning hell. I grabbed a paring knife and without any chemical assistance whatsoever (as a cleaning agent, I mean. When you get to what it was I actually did, you'll see the dire need of other kinds of natural-yet-still-chemical assistance...), I used the paring knife to literally SCRAPE all that nasty shit off.
And "out of".
As in: "off" the sink, and "out of" the toilet bowl. I know, I know... believe me, even I'm making a face, but, it wasn't that bad. I kept flushing it, believe me. You oughta see 'em now.
Gleaming softly white again, like brand new. I didn't tell the guys that I was gonna do it.
Hell, I didn't even KNOW I was gonna do it til I was doin' it. It was worth it just to see the stunned looks from the guys as they saw it.
Kinda like the look that was on Robert Kardashian's face as OJ's verdict was announced.... Now, I'm about to run to the store again.
Just need a few things, plus I hafta go to "Sheetz" and get dip.
Skoal and Cope, not clam and onion. Then, I think I'm gonna come home and try making real baked mac & cheese for the first time ever.
Gonna make two of 'em.
One with cut up keilbasa (like in the low-country boil) in it and one without. Oh and two more boys made the "kitty fixin' trip".
Sent three, but only two were done as the third one, Ozzy, the cat who always wants to be peein' in the sink which is why he now lives outside, yes HE, has an infection in his eyes and some kinda bump inder his tongue and he's now got kitty meds I have to administer for the next ten days. So, if blogging gets light starting today, you'll know, or be able to imagine, why.
It's reeeeally hard typing with your hands and arms swathed in bandages as the kind ya end up with when trying to administer ANYTHING to a cat, let alone eye drops/goo and some kinda liquid you have to squirt into his mouth. Well, now... that's what I coulda named this post, then... Dead Bitch Typing. Ah, screw it.
I like Micky's title. Anyway... guess I oughta go to the store.
Need to remember to stop and water the horses on the way home, too.
We've got 'em in the barn, with the fans on, it being so brain-cookin' HOT.
So, I've got to remember to stop and give 'em more water and a little hay, maybe. I'll be back later.
Y'all take care. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 06:37 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
July 30, 2006
Some funny and very true shit...
I love this!
I know too many females, 'cause I swear I know at least two women like the ones in each of those descriptions.
Posted by: Stevie at 05:33 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Why It's Better to Eat Vegetables
Girl: What is that?!
Guy, flipping it over: Oh my God. Are those eye sockets?
Girl: Ewww. That's no jellyfish.
Guy: It looks like an alligator head.
Girl: But alligators aren't in salt water. Maybe it got lost?
Guy: Look it has a...spine?
Girl: But a head wouldn't have a-
--St. Augustine, Florida Overheard at the Beach
Posted by: Stevie at 01:29 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Is it my imagination...
or is FARK getting slow with the number of links they put up a day?
Used to seem like there were almost more than you could keep up with before.Now, they never seem to move. Harrisburg Craig's List Rants-n-Raves sucks, too, by the way. We need a seperate List for Gettysburg. Anyway...
Wass up wid FARK?
Posted by: Stevie at 12:55 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
July 29, 2006
I have officially lost what's left of my mind...
I just got home from Bucks, walked in the door, scrolled through the TV listings and settled on and AM TAPING....
Hee Haw. God help me. (More about the reason for the trip to Bucks later. And, yeah, it was for what I always said I'd hafta go there for, but what PROMTED the trip is... ugh. Has to do with (looooong string of expletives deleted) kids.) And, now they're singing the "Gloom, despair and agony on me" song, so, I'm outta here for now. Back later. *puff, puff, pass... to my other hand* Peace *'bout an hour later* Oh, Criminy...Wille friggin' Nelson WITH SHORT HAIR!!!
No beard, no moustach, same annoying, whiny, nasal voice, though. God, help me again, I can't STAND Willy.
My stupid mother once bitched at me to turn my stereo down when I had Dwight Yoakam blasting.
Said he was too "nasal-y" for her to bear. I said, "This, from a person who listens to Willie-The Nostril-Nelson?", with a rasied eyebrow. Then, I half-rolled my eyes and sighed "Right" at 'er. She laughed.
So did I. It was only times like that, that we really got along.
Being smartassed/funny/whatever. 'Course, I also remember where in the house she lived in with Bob that we had this conversation, so it was long after she'd "graduated" from my boyfriends...
(Can ya tell we (Hee Haw, hence me, hence ya'll) have gone to commercial?) Anyway, back to my utterly-one-sided-'cause-he-ain't-home IM "conversation" with Paul.
Posted by: Stevie at 11:30 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Just busted "That 70's Show" fuckin' up...
Episode called "Jackie says cheese".
Her Dad makes her choose between Kelso and money.
(And finding it amusing....) Eric says, "It's like "Sophie's Choice" for morons..." Yeah. That shit came out in 1982.
Not the 70's. Guess that makes THAT line like "Editing for Morons".
Posted by: Stevie at 12:47 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
July 28, 2006
Banking question (or: don't start with me, bitch)...
Does it matter, AT ALL, when depositing checks in a checking account whether or not the person whose check it is in on the account it's being deposited in?
As long as the check isn't stolen and it's signed by the person whose check it is, does it make a difference whether or not they're on the account? Just wondering... (And, for the record... it hasn't so far and I was told it doesn't before I ever opened the account in the first place BY THE MANAGER of said bank.)(But, some bitch there today decided to try to make an issue of it and now, I wanna know.)
(Before I "make an issue of it".)
(Can ya tell I am in NO MOOD for this shit?)
Posted by: Stevie at 01:13 PM | Comments (10) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Nails are done...
God, how weird to be typing with these things again.
Haven't had 'em for a coupla weeks...
Frickin' starving. But, it does feel good to have my long nails again.
Looks good again, too. Think I'm gonna go nuke some Spaghetti-O's.
With franks or meatballs, though?
Can't decide.
Don't really care, either. I just want something quick.
(Well... what I really want is a salad, but I hafta wait on that. Gotta go into town later anyway and there's no sense in going twice...) Meantime, Spaghetti-O's it is. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 10:00 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
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