today.

I'm so relieved that we can encapsulate our troubles into the simple term, "bad day." This morning as I awoke, my toes felt as if they weighed ten pounds. Then I realized that my forehead, which was the only part of my body unprotected by the piles of heavy blankets atop my bed, was freezing.

I listened closely for the sound of the space heater, but heard nothing but Kitty's persistent whines. Briefly, I wondered what could have happened to my main source of heat since this money pit I call a home doesn't have a working thermostat, left alone a heater that I have yet to test. I asked Kitty in the most polite way I could to shut the EFF up.

After I found my glasses, I inspected the heater. Nothing was wrong with it, except somebody (the whiner) had unplugged it during her daily morning "wake the hell up, MH" exercises, which include jumping over and under every possible object. Being 15 or 16, she misses most objects and lands on them.

I dragged myself out to the back yard, where my beautiful flowers were covered up d/t a forecasted frost. They seemed okay.

Back inside, I heard the mail drop. Great, I thought. Let's see what junk mail they have for me today. I wish I had been so lucky. Three pieces of mail greeted me: shut-off notice from gas company, shut-off notice notice from city water dept. and (yikes) overdraft notice from my worthless bank.

Shut-off notices I don't quite understand. I didn't even receive bills from them. Oh well, I thought. I can just pay them. But oh wait. An overdraft notice means I don't have any money. I don't have the internet so I had to go to Starbucks to see the damage. In the four days between the time I ran out of money and got paid, I incurred over $300 in NSF charges. Not sure how I'm going to pay my overdue bills now.

I had a dream last night that I sold my house and bought a condo because I realized I couldn't take care of a house by myself. I realized that I really did like having a dryer. I liked having heat. I didn't mind not having a garden because I don't really know how to garden anyway. I even got a new cat and there was plenty of room. Today, a friend met me at Starbucks. I didn't tell her all of my woes, but I did tell her about my dream. She laughed. "I told you to get a condo, but that house is just you." Maybe it is. Broken down and in need of major repair.

Yesterday I vowed to make sure I'd never lose that house. It means so much to me. I guess I love the house because it is part of a family lineage. It was something that a happy couple had built and raised their family in. They took care of it and loved it. Their kids lived in it happily and it was a safe haven. I thought of The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck's book. I am like the Joads. I've been a wanderer my whole life. My parents never lived anywhere for long, and never fit in where they landed. Why in the world would an alcoholic man with no education move his family to Utah? In the eighties, there were probably 10 catholics in Utah, including our brood. I moved as soon as I could. I've been a gypsy ever since, never fitting in. I wouldn't even fit in where I came from, a small town in Nebraska. I'm vegetarian now.

My house represents stability and safety. And here I go, ruining it. It could be worse, though.

There is a woman here at the Starbucks. She shuffled in and after fidgiting around at her table, she borrowed a guy's cellphone, asking somebody at the other end where they were. She hung up and thanked the guy. Sat in her seat again and pulled out make-up. After her version of a touch-up, she brought out perfume and actually doused herself with it. A few minutes later, a small boy walked in by himself. He had been dropped off. The little boy sat across from her. She asked him how his day went. He didn't answer. She prodded him in her over-dramatic drunken way. The boy was used to this type of behavior. I could sense his resignation. I know how he feels. You can either cooperate and keep up the charade, or you can make your life difficult by asking them if they are drunk. The boy decided to keep up the charade and confided that some kids made fun of him at school today.

A middle eastern couple came in and sat across the room. The only person speaking was the man. Shortly, another man (middle eastern) came in and sat down too. The woman immediately got up and started browsing the sales area. She still hadn't spoken. The two men had a seemingly friendly conversation. They got up and prepared to leave. They walked out. Nobody opened the door for the woman, she just followed them.

It could all be worse, I guess.

I like to focus on what I ** have ** finished

Because I do not have time to think about what I have not.

The counter top is finished. It only took me about a month or so. Don't ever use a Dremel to dig grout out of an old tile counter top. It will ruin the tiles if you make one false move! With the amount of money I've spent on little do-dads and chemicals, I probably could have trashed the whole kitchen and went with granite. Ok that's a bit of an exaggerration. But anyway, it's done, except I have to put caulk in the corners or pretty much anywhere water might splash. The sink is about 8" deep, good for nothing much more than rinsing a tomato, so there will likely be water splashing everywhere as soon as I get up the courage to use the sink...

I have a big old metal cabinet from the forties. By myself, I was somehow able to Macguyver it out the kitchen to the patio, where I sanded and painted it. It was all rusty. Over three days I worked on it. Nobody stole it out of my yard while I was at work, I guess they must have thought it was a piece of scrap metal. Finally I finished it! Well, I used up all the paint I had bought. It's not pristine by any stretch. But I Macguyvered it back in and tonight I have been happily outfitting the old beauty with assorted vintage kitchen goodies. The glass doors are still missing but they'll turn up someday.

I wish I knew the names of some of the flowers that are blooming in my yard. They are darling. One type looks like little yellow bells, very delicate.

The oranges are falling off the trees by the pound. They are going bad quickly. But the other day I tried one and it was actually sweet and such a delight. Grapefruit is still looking good and they continue to grow bigger.

Online dating. Is it worth the money?

My friend recently bought a subscription to what I contend is an overpriced online dating site. GIMO is still utilizing his subscription at the OTHER site, and we all discussed the differences. I tried my best to prove that these sites are highway robbery and should not be patronized in the least. They, being ardent believers in the power of these matching services, tried equally hard to convince me to give one of the sites a try. Here we go again. Everybody feels sorry for MH because she's alone, but nobody ever asks her if she's happy to be alone. Because why the hell would a woman be happy alone, huh? We have no use to anybody if we aren't servicing a man with sex or rearing a child. We can't possibly lead a fulfilling life.

Anyway. Friend is having the time of her life with her new hobby. She chatters nonstop about the "electrician," "engineer," "retired businessman," and "contractor." They each have special attributes ( as in big house, nice car, grown-up kids, etc), but of course there are the trade-offs. Some have "a few extra pounds" while others just don't know how to dress or wear a mullet. GIMO is now seeing a special someone, who he met through his site, but he still keeps his options open. He describes his prospects as, "blond with nice body," "blond with glasses," "brunette with nice ass but has a kid," and "blond with big nose but good job."

I observed, to their vehement disagreement, that online dating seems to be more like ordering something off of amazon. All we have to do is place a value on our desired characteristics, search for them, and out pops our order. It seems shallow, but I guess it is done all the time in other ways. I guess it's just like a bar, only sometimes you have to spend a minute or two talking to someone before you find out they are unfit to date. I can't say that I think it's the absolute worst thing to do. I like making pro/con lists and wtf better do some of us single, ALONE people have to do anyway? Still, I'm not interested in paying for it all.

But then later on, I attended a training class, in which I was seated next to a guy I found to be very cute. I know he wouldn't look good on a profile because he makes the same amount I do and he wears glasses. But he was still cute and I'd go out with him. I thought about making conversation with him, but as usual, opted to doodle when not busy listening to a My Wonderful Kid's Progress update from a co-worker I hardly ever see anymore.

I guess anything's worth a try if you honestly want to try it.

Don't forget to celebrate the birthday of Alice Paul January 11th

One of the most prolific suffragists in history, Alice Paul is a hero to those who refuse to give up. Sadly, she is yet another important figure whose existence is left in the wake of WWI's eclipsing brawn. Yet for some of us, her work made much more of an impact than the War.

Living in a (de)construction zone

I have never EVER been so happy.





Yesterday I attended a birthday party for a good friend. I knew only a few other guests, and it was the first time I had a chance to talk with strangers about being a homeowner. I always knew that homeowners belonged to their own very dintinguished little club, but never realized how nice it is to belong myself! Somehow, people are acting like I'm a regular person rather than some slacker. I still ACT like a slacker. I'm still a slacker. But people don't treat me like I am. When I was asked, "So are you all moved in?" Of course I responded that it had only been a month and I didn't foresee being settled for at least six more. I received reassuring gestures like smiles accompanied wiht knowing nods. Unlike when I moved into my last apartment. But then again, I never did really get moved in at that place.





Also hindering the House's metamorphisis into the picture of Donna Reed Bliss is the fact that I took on a few messy projects all at the same time. That's just more evidence of my many nagging character defects, one of which is procrastination and another happens to be not finishing what I start.

So I have a floor which has been layed (by my good brother), but without trim since it is something I'm supposed to do. I have a kitchen counter which has been regrouted but not sealed. A fly on the wall of any one of the bedrooms would assume that the dozens of stacked boxes of books are merely the human's odd taste in furniture. It would be correct, because this human hasn't any bookcases. I haven't had any since I got rid of my cinder-block and old board thing 10 years ago. Mostly I have just stacked my hundreds and hundreds of books as high as possible along the walls of closets.





A friend brought over the nicest gift a few days ago. Some beautiful planters and shoots from a tree in her yard! How exciting! The first pretty, finished thing around here! I had to take a picture. I included in the clump of perfection is a little cast-iron frog that I found buried in a corner of the workshop. Mr Frog likes to be where he can be seen and admired, doesn't he?





Kitty has been allowing herself a marvelous time. She struts around the yard like it's been her turf for years. She doesn't bother to listen to me anymore. Ah, Kitty. Too cool for her own good.

New Life

Although internet is a luxury not afforded to this new homeowner, my brother was kind enough to loan me one of his old laptops with a wireless card in order for me to update. But now I realize that it's hardly possible to update if I don't have access to my catalog of pictures and also those which I've taken since moving....





Unfortunately, I did not get the promotion that I expected. That means I'll be applying for a part-time job somewhere. I'm considering finding work at one of those warehouse hardware places, whichever one gives discounts. Maybe I'll be able to find somebody to update my electrical wiring while I'm at it!





excerpts from my paper diary:


12/7:


Yesterday I spent all day putting things where they belong, cleaning, and solving problems. I washed four loads of laundry and the lack of a dryer is still serving as an entertaining novelty, so hanging everything on the lines was actually fun. Now I know why we are all overweight nowadays- our appliances do all the hard work. But, as I've been saying all too frequently, "What was good enough for Seller is good enough for me" because I absolutely love having my own house! It's still most unbelievable. Today I finally started filling up the kitchen cupboards up with my VAST quantities of glass/pottery ware/silver/whatever. It was HEAVEN. I'll probably spend what amounts to weeks rearranging it all, but... Kitty's the only one who will know. And she doesn't give a crap what I do because she is absorbed in the finer aspects of bird watching, the art of yard escapism, and grass-rolling. He has also acquired an interest in eating, now that after 15 years, SOMEBODY finally broke down and started getting her canned food. She doesn't whine nearly as much , so it guess it pleases both of us.





My little bathroom is the most wonderful ever. I have everything just where I need it, and it's SO me! The kitchen is getting there. Someday the rest of the house will be nice too. I have the baseboards in the living/dining room to finish, furniture to arrange, and pictures to hang. Pretty much everything. It looks like I'm camping. I need help. Nobody ever taught me how to move with grace....





12/12:


It's been so easy to adjust to life in this house. There are less conveniences in some ways, but nothing beats pulling into my own driveway at the end of the day. Many things have gone unexpectedly wrong, but so much more COULD have. Time to count my blessings?


I'm also so glad that I'm NOT in a relationship, even though having a man around to do some of this crap that men usually do has been a challenge. But I've decided that in relationships, men ALWAYS have the upper hand, because we always have to make sure we are sexually appealing to them. Well I know the way I am, I'm not sexually appealing 24/7 and I don't want to go back to trying to achieve the impossible. Maybe I wasn't meant to be in a relationship.



It gets boring writing about one's imperfections after doing so a few thousand times.



Why do men expect us to be perfect when we are NOT? Why is it that we are the only animal which demands that the FEMALE impress the MALE? Boy we really got the shitty end of the deal, didn't we? We have to make ourselves perfect, yet we still have to suffer from the effects of childbirth, rearing children and taking care of a household. We get fat, lose control of our bladder and our partners cheat on us because we've dedicated our lives to our partner, yet we continue to wax those legs and allow.... ad nausea....





I think I must have been depressed that day.......



12/14

Today. Bought a Dremel attachment kit and a grout grinder attachment, which I may return. Spent the rest of the day trying to repair the sink area in the kitchen. Grout has been falling out of the tiles for years and now everything is corroded and worst of all, the sink, which is cast iron with porcelain, has started to rust at the top, all around. Very messy!Q I dug out as much as I could, then sprayed a rust-stopper product. Dug out as much grout as I could, until my hand was too weak to continue and the Dremel pooped out. Tomorrow I want to b e able to grout in but I don't think it will be possible, given that I have to work 12 hrs, go to a graduation/christmas party and then work 12 more hours. Sigh. Brother said he *might* come over and hook up my sot vie for me this week. We'll see. If he doesn't, I'll have to just figure out how to do it myself. Reminds me.... Daily Cleaning... (True Value Household Encyclopedia) 1973

"Consists chiefly of dusting. In the bedroom, beds, which have been airing while the family is at breakfast, are made first. Then in all rooms, inside sills may be dusted, then furniture, wood floors, and finally rugs are cleaned. If a broom is used, upholstered furniture is brushed first and covered, then rugs swept, and finally floors, woodwork, and furniture dusted.....

Weekly cleaning- same except more thorough...pictures and mirrors, light bulbs and lighting fixtures, closet doors, backs of furniture, and window shades and baseboards... mattresses turned side for side one week and end for end the next."



12/20 (more complaining about men, especially GIMO)

... I said to my other co-workers, "Geez! Why does he always have to bother ME?" One person (his closest friend in the office) said, "Maybe he wants to date you." I laughed it off because he's such and asshole! Plus he's dating someone from one of those match websites. You know, I think he should just be friendly all the time and none of us would waste our time speculating. But it isn't like I'd want him anyway, I think he judges women too harshly and I don't think it would be worth shaving my left all the time, just to be judged by HIM, then rejected eventually. Actually, I have no intention of dating ANYONE who doesn't make it past that first cost/benefit analysis.
Sacrifices just for HIM:
Shave my legs every day?!
Increase in showers and water usage, therefore wasting my time and money on water and gas for the water heater.
I'd have to meet new people who I probably wouldn't like.
Probably cost me money which I don't have!
Other emotional risks associated with his wandering eye.

No thanks!
What possible benefit could I glean from dating some bratty, selfish man??? Eh, maybe he'd help with the house projects. He'd have to be REAL handy, that's all I can say.

Anyhow, I'm still working on the tile in the kitchen counter top. It's been almost two weeks! Part of the problem has been the tools. I didn't buy the right kind. Beyond that, I am not skilled in DIY, so the going has been slow. But I have half of the grouting finished, I just might finish it today! Then on to the next project. One of my old metal cabinets. It's REALLY rusting out on the bottom and I'll be damned if I'm going to junk it without a fight.

12/27
My, but I do lead a solitary life all of a sudden. Last week (I think it was), some brilliant asshole at PRI decided to use their radio time to produce a show themed Being Alone. Perfect timing, fuckers. They just HAD to tell these pathetic tales of hermits like me. or what I could become. One was from this guy who went to a home of a recently deceased woman who, of course, died ALONE with animals and piles of junk all over her musty old house. Have pity on us! Quit rubbing our anti-social tendencies in our faces! Eh, it bothered me but I'm doing this thing lately in which I pretend something doesn't bother me in the least. and I end up not even thinking about it again! It's magical!

So Christmas came and went, that grand old holiday. I worked the whole time, thank God. I had nothing else to do anyway. Brother went to Disneyland and took his whole brood. I was too broke to travel Up North to see friends and family from days of yore, and of course having to spend more than 5 minutes alone with the Grand Duchess would have produced urges to plunge a knife deep into my chest, so I just spent Christmas with OTHER annoying people. I didn't even have anything to complain about. At least I wasn't being torn from my children at that special time, when all parents rejoice in the adorable selfishness of their children.

A girl in my office ordered a rubber bracelet that she is supposed to use to help her quit complaining. Every time you complain, you take it off and move it to the other wrist. I said, "how do you expect we'll ever change the world if nobody complains?" I honestly have no idea why she thinks complaints are bad.

I have a key from 1949

And it unlocks my front door.

I simply cannot believe it. I have a door. Several doors. I have a hot water heater. I have built-in shelves, they are mine. I have flagstone on MY back patio! Of course I could go on and on. I also have dangerous wiring and threadbare carpeting from 1949.

But I must say, I love it all. Every little piece of asbestos, because it's mine. Say what you will, but that asbestos floor tile has character.One of the bedrooms has a cement floor, but it's been treated somehow. It's been stained and sealed and it actually looks pretty good. If I thought I could achieve the same results with whatever is beneath that carpeting, I'd give it a try. Probably cheaper than hard wood or bamboo. Definitely looks better than vinyl, which is likely too pricey for me anyway.

I roamed the house in a dazed state after the Realtor departed. Turning lights on and off, inspecting closet shelves, admiring the old light fixtures. I commented to my friend, "Look at this medicine cabinet! Now THIS is AUTHENTIC!" She snorted. "Yeah, it's old. You can't even see yourself in the mirror, the reflective stuff is missing." Well so. It's old, what do we expect? When Friend had seen enough and left for her own $500,000 late eighties nightmare, I was free to indulge in more euphoric fantasies with no disturbances.

Tomorrow the home warranty people are coming over to take pictures. I'm not sure that buying a home warranty will be worth it if these people already know what shape my appliances are in. Oh well. Maybe the electricity will be shut off so they can't test anything out.

When I got back to my apartment, I started packing again. I detest moving. But I keep reminding myself that I may never have to move again!

Cleaning, sorting, boxing, discarding

Moving isn't easy when you have too much stuff and you are suddenly without someone else around to help. But I'd rather have it this way if my only other choice would be having X around.

Friends have offered to come over to help, but I'm just too much of a control freak. I want to know exactly where everything is going and I want to pack it myself. That way, I'm the only one who gets blamed if something gets broken. And my brother. He always breaks things because he THROWS boxes all over the place. I'll have to keep an eye on him come moving day.

I have been busy shredding paper for a week. The picture only shows four big bags of shredded paper, but there is another one behind the rest. I have no idea how much paper it was, but it was definitely a whole lot. I STILL have tons of paper. I guess I never throw away bills or documents. But since the divorce is all over with, I'm through renting (I hope), and I don't have much other debt, I guess I can get rid of all those OLD credit card bills and bank statements from 1998.

I'm using the shredded paper as packing cushion for my antique glassware and china. Plus the endless knick-knacks I probably ought to do away with. Then, when I get to my new house, I'll recycle the shredded paper and the boxes. All of the boxes are either second hand from someone else or those I've used any of the several times I've moved recently.

I also utilize space bags. I use the ones that are for travel and you just push the air out of them instead of using a vacuum.

It's Yours

I know only a handful of people take a minute each day to check out my uneventful life. And I thank you. And I do wonder about you and your lives.

But, on to the newest development in my quest for something.

I received a call from the escrow or title person this morning. "I didn't see ______ paper, explaining _____ so I need you to sign and fax back to me. Don't worry, everything is recorded."

Recorded? That must mean it is official.

Congratulations. That's what the title lady said. "I could see you being on one of those HGTV shows. It would be the perfect house. They take $500 and do the most amazing things."

I need much more than $500, that's for sure.

Seller called me several times this morning. I'll tell you all about her later. But she is the neatest lady. Leaving some stuff for me like the lawn mower and some tools and some quilting fabric. Seller is the cutest little old lady EVER. She is super talented. She has been in a garden club for 60 YEARS and she is leaving all of her bulbs to ME! I told my aunt. She is coming down to make sure I know what to do with them.

She called me three times today. First, to thank me for the card. I brought one to the closing thinking she woud be there, but gave it to the title lady when I found out Seller was at home. Titlelady gave the card to her. Seller is finally getting excited to move into her new apartment, where she will probably have a dishwasher and lots of friends. She doesn't need that lawnmower, and wanted me to know that I don't need to get one. She is the sweetest. In my note to her, I said that if she ever wanted to come back to the house, she just needs to let me know. I'll come and pick her up! Because she is the cutest little old lady in the world. What do we think of when we think of an old lady? We think of someone who gardens, quilts, cans, sews, crochets and bakes, right? Right.

Well, Seller is all that and more. I truly respect her as a woman. She raised her children and took care of her husband. She maintained that house until her kids forced her out. And you know what? I'm going to invite her right back in.

Papers signed. Is that it?

I said to my broker this morning, "So what's next?"
"Move."
"But I only signed my name about 50 times. Aren't there any more papers or notices solidifying the case that this whole thing is all my fault and nobody else's?"
"Nope. You just start moving in."


It's not as simple as all that. Seller can't move for another week. I haven't even given the landlord notice because you just never know what can happen.

Wow. Homeowner. MH. My poor little old brain has been working overtime. Not only are there the normal things to think about, it also has to contemplate such important thoughts such as, "Can Kitty walk on the asbestos flooring?" or "What color should I paint the kitchen cabinets?" When it ought to be pondering questions like, "How am I going to pay this f-ing mortgage?" and "Do I really NEED gas, electricity and water?"

First thing I did was call my brother. "You are talking to a HOMEOWNER," I bragged.
"Hey that's great MH. Are you done? My truck is in the shop and I'm tired of sitting around here."
"Good, I'll come pick you up and we can go to IKEA."
"Do you REALLY think this is a good time to be spending any money?"
"I'm only going to look!"
"Yeah right."

Later, on my way to play Scrabble I called my sister. "You are talking to a HOMEOWNER," I chirped.
"Oh, nothing, having a beer with Amber. I got off early today and I decided I wanted a beer so here I am, I don't care what anybody says."
"SISTER. I didn't ASK you what you were DOING. I SAID I'm a HOMEOWNER."
"Oh. Good. Did you work today?"
"No. I signed papers all day. And packed stuff up to MOVE."
"Oh. I have worked for almost 7 days STRAIGHT! I'm butt-ass tired, you know?"
Sigh.

SOME people were happy for me. Dang! I've spent my whole adult life acting like I give a crap when all of these assholes get houses, cars, babies, married, divorced, or operated on. Is it too much to ask to get a little bit of that back? I don't expect anyone to ACTUALLY CARE, just pretend as much. Sheesh!

Getting ready for the big move

I guess I was wrong, we aren't closing until next week. Sigh.

But I've been busy sorting. Yesterday I loaded up the car with items and donated them to the ASPCA Thrift Store.

It felt wonderful to get rid of some of this crap I've been hanging on to for no good reason. Mostly clothes I know I'll never wear again, due to my advanced age and decreased motivation to get off my buns. At long last, I liberated myself of those damn wedding dresses that have stubbornly held some quixotic sentimentality lurking in the depths of my psyche. But the new MH, pragmatic in all thoughts and behaviors, took one look at the big old box yesterday and heaved it right into the trunk of my little economy car. And dragging it in to the thrift shop was nothing more than a task checked off my list of things to get done.

I welcome more days like yesterday.

My new kitchen

As soon as I close on my new house! If I didn't have to work so early in the morning, I'd love to talk about this whole process of buying a home. But It's not over yet. We close next week. Then a week later, I'll be moving.

The current owner is the sweetest old lady ever, and she let me come over to take a picture of the kitchen. My first project will be restoring the tile. X taught me how to do that, but honestly, it's easier than making a cake from a box.

Wal-Mart is Hell on Earth

It has been awhile since a stranger has pissed me off to the point of juvenile retaliation. But of course it was bound to happen. I was at Wal-Mart.

I know. I shouldn't have been at Wal-Mart in the first place. But it was the only place I knew of to get my new couch/guest bed, but I'll talk about that later. Right now, it will suffice to say that after spending over an hour in there, I was ready to rip somebody's head off. People are SO RUDE. Here is what I hate about Wal-Mart:
-Parking lot is dirty and full of litter. Nobody ever bothers to pick up any of the litter either. It just gets driven over time and time again until completely flat and barely noticeable, as it is as black as the asphalt. The inside of the store is just as bad, only the garbage in there collects dust, hair and bugs.

-The carts are gooey, nasty old rickety broken down jalopies.
I DARE anyone to TRY and find one that doesn't have a broken wheel that grinds itself into the floor every time it's pushed.

-The customers (besides me, of course) are all in their pajamas and slippers. They loaf around as if it's the only building in the city with air conditioning and they bring their twenty kids with them to enjoy it. They like to return things, because there is always a line half a block long at the customer service area- which contains dozens of carts full of what can only be assumed are returned items that will go right back out to the shelves.

-Also, the other shoppers do NOT know which side of the aisle to walk on, and they usually feel it necessary to take up the whole aisle when they are stationary. It makes getting around pretty much impossible for those of us who actually have things to do besides loaf around at Wal-Mart all day long. I realize that many people don't have anything to do. I'm not one of them and they piss me off immeasurably.

-The employees are also unaware that having manners makes things easier for everyone. They zoom around, hoping to God that nobody tries to stop them to ask a question. They barrel out of aisles into the main pathways without looking. Screw anyone who might be walking towards them. They don't have to wait for mere customers, dammit.

....I can't stand walking around with a stupid cart, having to go AROUND these lazy people and almost colliding with a few of their twenty screaming, jumping, running kids.

-They also pick their noses and cough into crowds. I'm the only one who cringes inside when I'm coughed at! Do the other people want to get sick or something? It's not like they have jobs to call in sick to. Well come to think of it, it's not a bad idea to let someone cough on you once in awhile. That way you can call in sick.

So. I paid for my cartload of useless albeit cheap stuff and found my car. I'd deliberately parked pretty far up the lot because I know what happens to cars parked close to the front at Wal-Mart. As I approached, I noticed a brand new truck next to my car. It was parked on an angle, and somehow the driver had managed to actually block me in! I was going to have to try to maneuver my car back and forth a few times, just to get out of my space. That fucker! I thought. It figures.

I contemplated my options. I could deal with it and drive away, forgetting all about it within five minutes. I could key the brand new truck, seeing as how the owner deserves it. But that idea was discarded since I already somehow have lots of bad karma, from where it came I do not know. I don't want to go to hell, but it looks like I've done something pretty bad to deserve ending up at Wal-Mart, so maybe I'm already being punished. Anyway, I decided to do something else. I wrote a quick note and placed it under the windshield wiper. Then I parked my cart DIRECTLY behind the ugly truck. My note read:

"Hey ASSHOLE, thanks for blocking me in with your BAD parking job. You probably didn't care that I have to ruin my fucking transmission in order to get out of this space. I considered keying your ugly truck, but decided to be NICE today, and I'll just leave this gooey old cart in your way so you don't forget what might happen NEXT time you go to Wal-Mart. I'll be looking for you."

As I finally drove away, I saw a woman go up to the cart and grab it, giving me a dirty look. She probably didn't notice the note until later. She probably figured I was thoughtless and rude. Of course that's just not true. I'm not thoughtless.

Bret Michaels needs a new weave

I'll admit it. I've watched the Bret Michaels VH-1 Rock of Love for the past month or so. It took me until NOW to realize that this dude has serious issues involving his **formerly** long hair.

What gives? Has he lost all of his hair? Some of it? Because he goes NOWHERE without an ugly old bandanna or cowboy hat. He chills in hot tub in it. He sleeps in it. He somehow has it solidly fastened to his scalp. He may have secret technology that could serve many people in the world. Imagine a hairdo that could withstand a hurricane or tornado.

I'm not a stylist, but one thing is clear: The scarecrow weave/wig/extensions/whatever is hardly better than just DEALING with it. I guess I should feel sorry for him since he's only trying to look younger and "sexier," which is what we women are pressured to do. But I don't, because as a MAN, he's LUCKY and should be grateful he isn't expected to have a full head of hair (like women) or to get his lips packed full of collagen (like women). Next thing you know he'll be getting implants.

While I'm at it, I can't forget to mention those pathetic women who are "continuing to rock" his "world." WTF is wrong with people? Is actually working for a living THAT freaking repulsive?

I guess I just don't understand this whole process of becoming a mindless ho. How does one go about deciding that getting shitfaced on tv and performing sexual favors on an aging has-been scarecrow is a worthwhile activity? What is the drive? Because the few who may have actually listened to his music were long gone before I started watching.

Maybe it has something to do with the entertainment industry, of which I've never been a part. I mean, I'm entertaining enough without trying, and I don't even ask for money. All I have to do is go about my day normally, tripping off escalators, bumping people's favorite plants off their desks, dropping my keys or my pen and what have you. But for crying out loud, I don't make an ass out of myself on PURPOSE.

And I'll be damned if I'd do it for some old scarecrow with collagen and implants.

What is the definition of Masculinity?

Because I do not have have never (purposely) been a consumer of porn, I was astonished to read this article by on AlterNet, responding to Robert Jensen's new book, Getting Off....

Pornography and the End of Masculinity
Don Hazen
September 22, 2007


I can't bring myself to quote some of the more shocking parts of the article. If I thought reading the damn book would make my life any easier, I might buy it. But I think all I can do is what I'm doing right now: refuse to buy porn of any form.

Many have said that people hardly change much. Cruelty and degradation of the weak by the powerful has "always" been around, right?

I would like to examine how our idea of a man has changed over recent time. It used to be that men of integrity, chivalry and responsibility were respected. Not anymore. Now we don't even bother with those trifles. Men are measured by their ability to victimize, and men are measuring themselves by it, if the billion-dollar porn industry is to be given its full due.


But what's the use of complaining about it? The stupid women who allow women to be degraded are still going to show up to the set and the photo shoot and the strip club. The stupid men who "get off" are still going to show the porn industry and the rest of the world how easily their minds can be taken hostage in the name of cash...

"...For Jensen, the most plausible explanation of the popularity of these acts is that women in the world, outside of pornography, don't engage in these acts unless forced. 'Men know that -- and they find it sexually arousing to watch them in part because of that knowledge...'"

"...If I were them, if I were a woman, I wouldn't want to know that. Life is difficult enough without knowing things like that, without having to face that one lives in a society in which no matter who you are -- as an individual, as a person with hopes and dreams, with strengths and weaknesses -- you are something to be fucked and laughed at and left on the side of the road by men. Because you are a woman..."

The only glimmer of hope is that here we have two men writing about the societal negatives associated with the porn industry. Because as we all know, nobody is listening to women.

Vacation all I ever wanted...

Exposing my advanced age yet again with that title.

Yesterday marked my first official day of vacation this time around. It was my intention to have a couple days of "MH" stuff going on before departing for the Great Up North, where I will spend a week with my beloved Grammy. I just needed time to sit around doing my most favorite thing in the world: calculating my budget every which way. It's the most fun ever.

I love it when I get some bright idea in my head like, "Hmmm, wonder how much money I'd have left over at the end of the month if I ONLY ate salad with no dressing?" or "Hmmm, if I bought a condo with a patio or a yard and grew my own salad, THEN how much money would I save?.... Well then I could afford a higher mortgage payment, right? So how much more can I spend on a house if I grow my own salad?" Stuff like that, you know important things.

In between calculations and other serious endeavors, I found the time to convince two different real estate agents to show me some townhomes. One was COMPLETELY out of my price range. Not, mind you, more than I'd been approved for- but one thing I've learned from watching everybody else lose their houses is to buy based on what I know I can pay. Not what some guy TELLS me I can get a loan for. So then I looked at a unit that is about $75,000 cheaper than #1. The only thing I can't stand is that I will have neighbors on EACH side of me. Ugh. I asked the agent if she knew anything about them, and she looked at me like I'd stepped out of one of those Nazi propaganda films. She said, "I'm sure you understand that these types of discussions are not prudent." Well, why not?! It's not like I asked her if they were Irish Catholics. What I REALLY wanted to know was whether or not they had any kids. Specifically TEENAGERS. Because I know exactly what I'd have to deal with if a teenager lived next door. I used to be a teenager. I wouldn't have wanted to live next door to me. So anyway, I didn't get anywhere with her. She referred me to the HOA president, who I'll talk to later if I decide to show up with my tape measure.

I also looked at a new-build. Wasn't impressed, and it must be bad if I'M not impressed. I could probably count on one hand the amount of times I've actually stood in a home that hasn't ever been lived in. But the whole development looked somewhat thrown together. I opened a closet and saw a bunch of boxes and leftover pieces from the furniture that apparently didn't need to be put together all the way. The bedrooms were tiny. What if I wanted to get a king sized bed? Lastly, the REAL hurdle would be the ugly spiral staircase, which leads to the "loft" "master suite." WTF were they thinking? How are we supposed to get our master suites up there? I don't know.

So in the morning, bright and early, I'm off to see my Grammy. She is at the point where she can't be left alone anymore and I volunteered to go up there for a week. I can't wait to see her! She loves to play Scrabble and I might be able to get her to tell me some stories about her "Momma" and "Nana."

When I return, I intend to waste ZERO time in finding a house and getting moved in. Have to keep moving on and up!

I'm OK?

My last session with Marty the therapist was- the last session. He told me that I'm on the right track, and if I should ever need to talk about any issues, he'll always be around.

I'm glad because to be honest I was starting to think Marty gets all of his material from outdated self-help books. I had to read The Power of Now and then he started with I'm Ok You're Ok. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I read that thing eons ago. My mom had bought it but acted guilty every time anyone saw her reading it. By 10, my reading skills were advanced since I'd already been sneaking VC Andrews and Stephen King books for years.

I thought IOYO was some sort of pornographic sex how-to manual that was meant only for
adults so I couldn't WAIT until it ended up in cardboard box underneath the basement stairs so I could get my hands on it. That's where all her Harlequins went, eventually. Then the basement would flood and the hundreds of Harlequins would get ruined, no big loss. Anyway. I found it under the basement stairs and devoured the darned thing before I learned that there was NOTHING interesting about that book. NOTHING. Then I started acting like I was OK but my parents were not OK. I've been acting like the parent ever since. That seems to be my role, I guess. Of course, Harris is a popular subject for a day in sophomore PSYCH class lecutres, and I got to learn how he came up with his goods.

Marty's point the other day was that I'm ALWAYS in the parent role. I told him about X and how he never talked to me like he talks to his new PetName. Marty said, "Well, can you picture someone talking to their mother like that? Because that's what you were. When was the last time you acted like anything other than a parent?" Fine. I get it.

Then I told Marty my good news and how excited it was to finally, maybe be able to have my own house again. I told him how I used to drink my first cup of coffee every morning, walking around my back yard, inspecting all of my flowers and my garden. I told him how I used to make a cake from scratch at least once every week. How I enjoyed cleaning my house, decorating, painting, and taking care of it.

And I have not felt anywhere near such happiness since the day I moved. Three years ago next week. I told Marty that I feel like the old me. Just knowing that I can buy a house if I want to has rejuvenated me. Marty said that there I go again, not thinking about having fun. I'm thinking about getting a house so I can create more work and put more pressure on myself. I want to "mother" a house since I am no longer married.

He really missed the mark there, because he's so wrong. I used that house as a play house almost, because I didn't have a home like that growing up. I created my own world to be a kid in. I don't know what I will do when I settle in a new house. Hopefully I've grown in ways that I didn't expect. But for now, I'm so glad to be able to see. Marty is great, but he just doesn't get it this time. Oh well, can't win 'em all, Marty! You're still ok!

Bigger and... and BETTER things!

For all involved. X wanted - what he wanted, I still don't know what that was, but it certainly wasn't me. Move on, MH.


So I've moved on to what I want. I want a house of my own!

I called a mortgage place yesterday to see how many decades it will be before I will actually be able to buy a home on a FIXED rate. And surprise! When they called me back I was tentatively approved for over TWICE what I thought I would ever be able to spend. This is thanks to all the raises I've been getting lately I guess. Plus my credit hasn't been completely wrecked by the divorce. Wow. Do I deserve a stroke of good luck? Crap, I know I just jinxed myself with that last sentence.

So now the search is on for a new home. I took some time while not being able to sleep last night to write down my must-haves:

• AT LEAST washer/dryer hook-ups. No more coin-op or take-out laundry for MH! Yay!
• Area for a dog to run and play. Grassy area. So I can have a dog. Plus I need at least a container garden.
  
• BIG kitchen (or at least room to enlarge kitchen) because I have three awesome metal cabinets from the forties that NEED to stay in the kitchen.

IF it's a condo or townhouse:

• Lots of storage
• Two bedroom w/ at least 1.75 baths
• Private outside area for my morning coffee
• LOW HOA
• Nice neighborhood to preserve my morning run.

IF it's a house:

• It CANNOT be newer than 1960 (unless I just go with brand new, which I doubt)
• Fence
• Two baths or room to grow
• Original kitchen and maybe baths
• Must not add up to more than I can afford INCLUDING extras

What I will need to buy: I need a couch. I have not had a couch for three years.

I want to buy a Murphy bed for the guest room/space so I can also use it as a sewing room and office. There is an awesome Murphy bed that has a desk top on the outside, which gently floats down when you pull the bed down. It probably costs around $3 grand though. I could frickin' make my own for that kind of money! But that's what I want.

I NEED to get a new bed. The last time I had a brand new bed, it was when my parents bought me a daybed when I moved out. That was, let's see, 17 years ago! I slept on the daybed for 10 years. Then I bought an old full-sized bed from craigslist for $40. It is from the fifties. I don't recommend sleeping on a mattress from the fifties, even if it is from SEARS. When my sister came to visit, I broke out the air mattress for her. It's a queen size! She raved about how comfortable it is "for an air mattress." After she left, I thought it would be fun to try it out and I have been sleeping on it ever since. It's SO much nicer than that crappy old thing. So I need a new bed. I might upgrade to a queen size too. Not sure.

That's really all. Except for appliances if the "new" place doesn't have them. But I sincerely hope it does. I want AUTHENTIC appliances. I want the counter-top RANGE and the WALL oven.

I think I'll copy most of this post to my other blog and try to keep all of this boring house crap over there.

"Pathetic" works on other women as well.

I have had a few hours to process the below information, and I can't figure out if I'm being FOOLED or if it's true.

Fact: I am GETTING emails from X. But they are written "to" someone else.

According to these emails:
X is GETTING laid.
Someone else is actually ENJOYING it. I'm not making this shit up.

Which leads me to the following questions:
a. Is X fucking with me, so to speak? (am I just vain as hell that he could be wasting this much effort on a game?) OR

b. Is X actually getting LAID? ... and PLEASING this person?

Possible answers to:
a: Yes. He is just playing games, he has nothing better to do, you know damn well, MH, that X couldn't score in the first place, that's why he had to find a prude like you who was so afraid of men she wouldn't know she what she was missing.

b: Yes. He actually DID find someone who he is ATTRACTED to, and YES, she is a human female specimen. Not sure what she looks like. Could be an ugly heifer but according to X, the specimen has huge jugs and entertaining nipples.

Why SHOULDN'T I be grossed out?

Either way, I'm annoyed. If he is putting on some show of a back-and-forth email chronology of their newly established sex life, it's a waste of time. But what if I'm just fooling MYSELF? What if (I do suspect that) he IS in a new relationship and both are happily satisfied?

Does that mean there is something wrong with me? It has caused me to take a long look at myself over the past few hours. Is there really something wrong with ME? Or, did X just marry someone he never was really attracted to in the first place? Because he never said any of this crap to me that he says in these emails.

What bothers me the most, and I'm only being honest about the whole thing...

..is that he NEVER ONCE acted like he was attracted to me at ALL. I thought there was something wrong with HIM, and I felt SORRY for him and loved him anyway.
..is that I supported him because he was WEAK and LAZY and I loved him anyway.
..is that I TOLD myself that the only reason he was cheating on me while I was WORKING and he was DINKING around all day at home, was that he had a low self esteem and it was HIS problem.

But wow, here it seems, X is carrying on some sort of relationship with a YOUNGER woman and "they" seem to be very happy and content in every way.

It hurts. I feel so immature and hateful, but it does hurt.

Admittedly, I will probably have a much better future than X. I have always known that I could take care of myself.
I have a career, he doesn't. I can *pay my bills.* He doesn't. I.... have Kitty?

Well. I have assured myself for the past year-and-a-half that I would get my revenge by going on with life and I'd be fulfilled while he would languish in his cesspool of sloth. But I guess I was wrong. I'm the one in the cesspool. He's going on with his life. He has found someone else. Finally.

Why didn't he just leave me alone in the first place?

Old FSA Housing in Chandler. Gone.

Yet another piece of history, vanished. Arizona Part-Time Farms / Chandler Farms
Some background:
The "Dust Bowl Storms" of the thirties produced thousands of migrant workers from the Great Plains who headed west in search of seasonal jobs. Arizona's cotton farming industry was beginning to boom so there were a few Farm Security Administration housing sites built. I found pictures of some of them and really liked the ones from Chandler. They had unique qualities. The design of the windows and the placement of the buildings encouraged air ventilation. Windows would open on both sides of the building, creating a nice breeze. If there was a breeze, that is. Also, and most importantly to me, these buildings were made of Adobe! How many Adobe buildings have YOU seen? Yeah, that's what I thought. American history. Knocked down for no reason at all. It's probably an ostrich farm now.


WHY do we always tear neat stuff down in Arizona? They don't keep the cool old buildings, OH NO, not when you can replace them with crappy strip malls and parking lots. I was hoping that they had turned them into condos! Look at this kitchen! Exactly what I want, right there. Oh well. It's probably a Dairy Queen or something now.