Happy Halloween

Just a quick Good Morning Halloween post. I didn't make it too far with my pumpkin carving last night. Actually, I only carved one small one and set aside the seeds in a bowl with water for now. I'm going to roast them later when I'm done with all of them. As long as I finish before dark I'll be happy. I'm not really a big drinker, I never have been. I never even got drunk until I was, like, twenty-two. Isn't that weird? I turn out to be, like, a huge heroin addict but hate drinking. So I wasn't good for much after a few glasses of champagne. I pretty much passed out after we ate. Alcohol, rich food and even richer dessert makes for some heavy sleeping. Until about two in the morning when you spring up with your throat dry and your head beginning to ache, having to pee. I drank about a liter of seltzer water and went back to sleep. I feel pretty good today.
It's beautiful out. Balmy and gray and really windy. It's what I think England would be like in some parts. I've only seen London so I wouldn't really know, firsthand, what the countryside looks like on a gray, balmy afternoon.
Anyhow, about to cook a late breakfast with the leftover ham. The dinner was so good, but the pie was horrible. It was the first pecan pie I've ever made so I suppose it's not surprising it sucks. Mike likes it but I don't know how. It's so over-baked and chewy and crunchy all at the same awful time. Next time I won't cook it for so long and I'm not so sure about using all dark corn syrup, maybe it should be half light corn syrup - or maybe I just cooked it to the point of looking like mud. I'll have to ask my Mom. She makes great food. That's a big part of why I'm so food obsessed. We had a delicious, home-made meal every night for dinner and usually breakfast too. And my Mom made our lunch everyday, every year all through school. And then when I went to boarding school we had, like, a gourmet, all-you-can-eat cafeteria. So I've been lucky to have been raised on great food. So it really sucks that I'm not the best cook at all. But at least I try.
Well, I better get started if we are going to eat early enough to still consider it brunch. And if I want to have a prayer of getting my pumpkins carved before dark.


Happy Halloween!!

If only we Lived to Two Hundred Years old......

Life is worth living if only for all the moments like this one added up. At the end of life if you can look back and remember more good times than bad, I guess what more can you ask for? Maybe I'm easy to please, but I'm happy if there's good food, pleasant atmosphere, music, and company makes it all better if it's good company. It's just Mike and I tonight. But that's fine as there aren't too many friends in our lives these days. So many live too far from here or have recently moved.....or turned out to be not such good friends after all. I'd love to have my little brother, or my Mom, or our friend Mikey over to eat with us. But they're all at least two hours away. We'll see them for the holidays. Hopefully little bro Sam will be up next weekend. I love to think I made him have a good time away from home. I like to make him food and see him and Mike enjoy each other so much.
Let me just say that shack has saved my life. If he didn't have it he'd just be sitting around the apartment moping. But he's so happy to have a place to do his art right outside his door. He's talked about it for so long, and it's finally become a reality. It doesn't feel so claustrophobic in here anymore. I can do my thing without feeling hovered over and he feels purposeful which seems to make all the difference for men. They need to be useful or they get depressed. Also he's back on his welbutrin which makes all the difference. He's like a different person.
Anyhow, my perfect night. I've got a big ol' hunk of ham baking in the oven and it smells divine and it fills every inch of my small apartment with maple and clove. It's mixing with the sweet scent of the pecan pie and roasted squash. I'm going to blend the squash up with a yam and make mashed potatoes, corn bread, brussel sprouts and creamed corn. I think I'll make corn bread too. I jumped on the StairMaster earlier and did some sit ups and stretches so I can stuff my face without guilty images of fat rolls from my belly ruining the whole sumptuous feast.
Although,I was looking at old photos of Mike and I today and I wanted to cry. I used to be so skinny. And then when I got on the M-done I got SO fat. The pictures are horrifying. I can't believe I didn't notice and do something to stop it. I was oblivious. I had such strong cravings for sweets. The chocolate eclairs and the key lime pie from a bakery down the road from me would call my name. What could I do, I could not ignore the sweet little goodnesses. I try to justify the whole hideous binge time by claiming I had been undernourished throughout the heroin years and needed to get my vitamin count back up. But that's a lie. All the doctors I ever encountered were always shocked by how healthy I was for an addict. Healthier than a lot of non-addicts. Probably due to my obsession with good food. And I worked at a farm so I was fit and tan and ate well. I just got blasted too. Aside from needle holes, I was always pretty good. Probably better off in some ways from now. I've lost a lot but still have about twenty pounds to go before I can fit into my old clothes. Aaaah, this is not what I wanted to think about.
I wanted to revel in indulgence and all the good, sweet, euphoric moments. The champagne, the salty, sweet smell of the ham. The candles and the music. And I'm so excited to be about to begin my drunken carving of my six, yes, that's six, pumpkins. I'm going to line them up on a staircase outside of my house. I'll try to take a good pic of them all lit up when I'm done. Wish me luck-pray I lose no appendages.

I can't decide if I like the Summer or Fall the best of all seasons. Or maybe winter, but only when there's snow. Or maybe spring, but only if it's not too, too rainy. So maybe Fall is the best after all, because summer can be too hot. But what can fall be too much of. I suppose sometimes it rains too much in the fall.

Going to carve my pumpkins and then roast the seeds. It's this kind of crap that makes me think about having kids after all only because they enjoy it so much. I'm always trying to get all my adult friends to carve pumpkins or decorate ginger bread houses and they just don't get the joy like I do. I think I need kids for that. Maybe someday. If only we lived to be two hundred, I wouldn't feel so rushed.

Who doesn't Want a Porcupine Ring?

http://www.noirjewelry.com/

In this months Oprah magazine there is a way better picture of these rings and more. I told Mikey I want one for Christmas but...he can't even remember, after seven years, that I hate grape soda. He still brings me grape soda unless I remind him, "No Grape!"

What is Wrong with People?

I don't know why it's bothering me so much but my upstairs neighbors are having a baby in, like, five months and they are the biggest fuck heads - it's making me worry for them, the baby, and myself if it gets to that point (I hope to God it does not). First, the boyfriend is completely unfaithful to the girl. I watch him bring girls up to their apartment all the time while his gf is at work, pregnant with their child. He is unemployed, again. He had a job for about three months at one point but has since been laid off. Right before we moved in he was released from jail for his second drug selling offense. He was already on probation for selling coke and then he does it again. We live in a really small town, the police know what everyone does. It doesn't help that if you could see through trees, you'd be able to see the popo dept.
So the last and second time he was jailed she was pregnant too. She had a miscarriage - probably due at least partially to the stress of being left to pay for an apartment all by herself when she's been living off coke money since they met. So she has a miscarriage while he's in jail, then about three and a half months ago she had a cyst removed from her uterus - and now she's pregnant again! And the doctors (she says, and it makes sense) tell her any undue stress, mental or physical could cause another miscarriage. Apparently the boyfriend doesn't care too much about the impact of his actions on her. And she doesn't seem too swift either. They have no health insurance - because she didn't pick up the option her work gave her last year because she said she needed all the $ to support herself because duffus was in jail. Really? She couldn't spare thirty dollars a week? And instead of waiting a few months to get her pregnant so she could pick up the insurance this year, they don't and now they won't pick her up after the fact. To me, that is just stupid! Why begin your life as a family in mega debt that could have been avoided? Do they have any idea how much it costs to have a baby? Well apparently they didn't until I said something when I found out they had no health coverage. I was all "Oh, shit! That's got to be at least twenty thousand in the hole! Ouch!" Because my first boyfriend, his mom had him when she was fifteen, she had no insurance. We met when he was twenty and she was still bitching about how she was still paying for his birth! So now the dumb asses have decided he should start selling cocaine again to make ends meet. Maybe getting a JOB would be a good idea.
He's still on probation, his prob officer stops by unannounced, he has to check in at least monthly(pee tests and such) and he's been ratted out twice previously. If he gets caught selling again he's going to jail for, like, ten years. He's also been in trouble for flashing a gun at some kids at Friendly's because they made disparaging remarks about his dead brother. Grow up! A Gun?!? For real, you sell like a half oz a week, if that! And he thinks he's, like, some kind of baller! Who you gonna shoot, you idiot? Anyhow, doesn't he realize he could easily miss his baby being born? What if she miscarries again when he gets arrested, again. And they way he runs his mouth and brags and flaunts money and drives around in the middle of the night w/product and a scale in his whoopdy (sp?)-ass 1995 Honda Civic - he's asking for it.
Now, all this stresses me out just because it sucks to think that yet another child is being brought into this world with a dickhead for a father and an idiot for a mother, with no health insurance taboot. But that is not my main issue. My real concern is that he keeps sticking his F'n cocaine in Mikey's face. And I've heard Mike, on several occasions say he's not interested and please to not tell him about it. But then he asks to borrow our digi scale (which has never been used to weight powder drugs, only weed and methadone for us these days. If we buy dope it's recreational for a special day, certainly not enough to need to weigh). Wow, he must be really big time if he doesn't even have his own scale. He does now because we didn't even want it back after he used it because it smelled so bad of coke. Mikey has promised he has no desire to get high, but I can't help wondering if he's just appeasing me until I go to work and then, Whammo! I am not giving my money to those F'n losers. And if our neighbor really considered Mike a friend, then he wouldn't be enticing him with drugs when he knows our history and has been told to keep it away from us.
On Friday night, as soon as the shit was dropped off at his house (by what looked like high school kids) he's calling Mike up asking if he wants to come up and check it out. That time Mike did blow him off and declined saying we were eating and he didn't really care. But he'd already told him that. Is the kid just dumb, or is Mike telling lies? Both? I left him with NO cash and as soon as I got to work I checked our account online so I'll know if any money is missing. I will probably be able to tell if he used too, and he probably knows that. He's such a hypochondriac baby that he'll whine about how shitty he's feeling so much I'll know something is up and if I grill him he'll give it up whether he wants to or not in his bastard little smirk. I also made him swear on his grandfather's soul who is dead and I really don't think he'd do that if was lying. But I'm wicked trusting and always want to believe the best in people and I'd be easy to lie to if you really were intent on lying and didn't care at all how upset I got once I knew the truth. Either way, I have no choice but to trust him because I have to leave for work at some point. And he's there at the house, a grown man whose gonna do what he's gonna do when it comes down to it. Regardless of my wishes, and I know that.
I also know something else - if I find out that that stupid motherF'n loser got Mike to use that shit, when he's at home alone w/out anyone to keep an eye on him especially - I will do everything in my power to make him wish he had acted otherwise. And if Mike dies of an overdose, I swear I will turn him into his P.O. so fast the police will issue me an honorary badge. You fuck with my family, it's war. It's like no one but me can call my sister a slut or my mother a drunk - it's just not cool. Unless you're, like, a social worker or a shrink or something and it's your job to state the obvious regardless of personal feelings. I will tell his bitch about every girl he had ever brought over, I'll tell her every time he's smoked weed and lied about it, I'll tell her how he cat calls our neighbor and asks her to flash her boobs all day long, I'll tell her how he complains about her as soon as she walks away and how he hopes having a baby will make her less clingy. I'll tell her how he tells everyone they're never getting married - he won't be able to walk sideways in front of my window without knowing I'll repeat it to his girlfriend. So he best back off the person who helps pay my rent or there's gonna be problems.
I don't have a problem, morally, with drugs - obviously, as my past clearly illustrates. I don't even think selling drugs is inherently evil. I just think when you're a two time loser with a baby on the way, maybe it's time to look into an alternative source of income. Like a real job. Suck it up, if it's too good to be true, it is. Very few people get rich selling drugs, easy money, fast money, is usually gone money. Gone by the police, or gone by bad spending habits, or both. Read Freakonomics for crying out loud! Over time, most drug dealers are lucky to end up having made minimum wage. He keeps telling Mike that it's only temporary, a month or two. He says he just wants to make five or ten thousand dollars and then he's done. I don't know what planet he sells drugs on but buying the small quantities he's able to afford, he's never gonna make that much money. Especially spending it as he makes it. He doesn't have a job, I think he says he getting $200/wk on unemployment. She works at RentOne Plus or some shit like Rent-a-Center. So we know she's not raking it in. Are they crazy?
He didn't bother me so much at first, at least then he had a job and seemed to be trying. I never liked her because she's one of those girls who hangs all over her boyfriend when other women are around. Like, attached to his arm, guy can't even move w/out bumping into her. And when I see her away from our house she ignores me. I hate that! We live in the same building. She could at least say hello. I always wave, sometimes, like, five times, and she pretends not to see me! I swear. It drives me bonkers. And one time she brought these hideous pleather boots outside, they were obviously way too big for me. She hands them to me and says, "I won't wear these, I'm way to picky". Well, unless you got them used, it looks like you wore the shit out of them. And she dresses like shit and that was really insulting. I dress really nicely when I'm not at work, at work I have to wear an obscenely ugly uniform of gold and black, awesome, but not my fault at all. I took the stupid boots, said "thanks" and threw them away at the dump later that week. At the time I was hoping she'd come to throw her trash away and see them. But then I found out that they haven't brought their trash to the dump for probably the past six months (it's free and about a mile from our house). They've been stacking it in the garage in this little room attached to the back. The pile reached almost to my waist and was torn to pieces and strewn across the floor from the animals at night. Mike and I found their dirty, little secret when we were checking to see if he could use the room to blow glass. The trash discovery led us to buy the shack from Home Depot instead. From all their trash, mice have infested the garage and they are climbing into the engine of their cars and fucking up the wiring. Serves them right, the trasholes.

The dummy's haven't figured out I can get onto Blogger now when I'm on the back gate computer. Ha, Ha!

Ha, Ha! to me when they find out and fire me or something for writing about all kinds of crap. Oh, well...until that time comes.

I love the nights when I have a good book, good food and something good to smoke. Got a fatty, on my way out to enjoy, savor and relax to.....then I can eat my food oh so appreciatively. Yummy.

I love food. I love to eat. Maybe a little too much. There is just something so calm and relaxing about really good tasting, eye catching, aromatic food. Good food is one of the things that make me think the world could be a true paradise if stupid people got their priorities straight. Food, not war.

When I visit my Mom by the NH coast I just have to go to one of those fried seafood places right on the marsh. Those big wooden beach restaurants with picnic tables inside to sit at. Where you order you food at the counter and they fry it up right there, or steam you a lobster or clams if that's your thing. I love lobster but I hate full belly clams, strips are good though. Mikey and I usually share a fisherman's platter but we get the one with the fried lobster too. MMMmmm, it's friedliciously good.

Lazy Sunday

Ahh, quiet. Alone. Peaceful. Mikey has left to drive my brother home. I would have loved for him to stay longer but he had to get back to watch the house while my mom is away for a job. It's nice having people around to break the tension between me and Mike. He and Sam really like each other, they are very similar, and they love to hang out. It's nice to see them having such a good time together. It takes the pressure off me for Mike to have someone else to spend time with. I try to encourage him to cultivate more friendships but he's really bad at putting in the time it takes to be a good friend. I am too. But I use writing and reading and walking the dogs to let out my frustrations. I feel like he just uses me.

Unfortunately we only have the one car so he has to get back to drive me to work tonight. I am going to try to get a ride with my neighbor but I don't want to just assume I can ride with her. I mean she's going there anyhow, but I know how it can be annoying to fit another person into your getting to work routine. I do give her gas money and I give them weed to smoke when we have extra. So she probably will not mind as long as she's not planning to call out or anything.

I tried to avoid the inevitable eye puff from my crying last night. Man, I hate crying. But it just comes out like vomit sometimes, no stopping it. I used a cold washcloth over them, I put eye cream on several times, I tried not to fall asleep right away because for some reason that always makes it worse. Yet still I was forced to wear my sunglasses out of the house despite the gloom. I didn't want people to think I thought it was Halloween already and I was wearing a puffy eyed mask. Don't want to scare any children.

I can't believe the weekend is over already. We were scrambling around since Thursday to get ready for the stupid festival so it seems like I just haven't had any time to really chill - because I haven't. And now back to work. And Mikey doesn't understand that it's really annoying to watch him do whatever he wants, sleep whenever, blow glass for a few hours, and then mess around on the computer for a bunch more hours, go to some crappy fast food joint and begin it all again. And I'm a bitch because I get frustrated. I swear I don't yell at him or cuss or name call. I'll get home from work in the morning and say something like, "Aw man, you didn't have time to do those dishes you promised you'd do? It's really hard for me to have to do all that stuff and go to work. I don't get any sleep, Mike. Can you please help out more during the weekdays, I can't do it all my self. I'm not the maid." And I shit you not, his response will go something along the lines of, "Shut the fuck up! Why do you have to yell, you're such a fucking bitch. I said I'd do it later." I used to get really, really mad at that shit. But now I'm just trying to tell myself it will be over soon and some other poor girl can deal with him.

For some odd reason I keep have these waves of nausea. I couldn't eaten anything bad, I hardly ate anything yesterday. And I admit I drank some champagne when I got home last night to help me relax. But I only had a couple glasses. I'm not a big drinker but two glasses of bubbly shouldn't make me sick, eh? Either way, I'm going to try to walk it off. Dogs need a walk anyhow and I want to take them out before this precipitation really starts to fall. I can't tell if it's rain or snow.

Sorry about all the bitching lately. I feel like people can read it or not. It's not forcing a poor friend to be subjected to it because they don't want to be rude. That's why I like blogging. It's like talking to friends but it's not. People only read if they want to. And I figure even if nobody but me ever reads it, it still is a chronicle of my life which I'll probably enjoy looking back at one day. I just need a place to vent sometimes.

If I don't get back here today...everyone have a lovely, lazy Sunday.

There is just no fucking pleasing him. It doesn't matter and it doesn't just not matter what I do, it doesn't matter what the world does. Fucking ice cream cones filled with money could fall from the sky and he would complain that they were hitting him on the head or falling too fast, or why did they come today, that wasn't planned very well for him. Of course he would never just be happy because something cool happened. And maybe that's why he won't work with me at all to make it easier for us to split. Maybe he needs me around to suck positive energy from, since he can't generate his own. Where would he be in life w/out his personal cheerleader/punching bag.

Yesterday, while him and my brother are doing I don't know what, hanging around, pretending to blow glass and get things ready for the festival today, although there really wasn't much to do, I do all the laundry by myself, then I go to the grocery store, buy the food, drive home, bring in the laundry and food bags by myself. Then I make a roasted chicken, gravy, mashed potatoes, stuffing, peas, carrots, bread, and cranberry sauce, and don't forget the pumpkin pie for dessert. They chow and fall asleep. I clean up.
Then this morning I wake up at seven, drive to the clinic, stop and get them coffee on my way home. Then I take all the dogs out for a walk - by myself. Then I cut cornstalks and drag them back home for them to decorate their stand. They tell me they are stupid. I help pack up the car and drive them to town to help set up. They don't have any chairs and think they need more ganja crispy treats. So I run to the store (oh, wait, first I walked to get them beers and pizza while they stood around flirting with all the college girls) and get more marshmallows, crispies and what not to make more treats. I run home, pack up chairs and make, like, three more batches of ganja treats which make me feel all tired and heavy. I drive them all back down to them.

By the time I get back it's getting dark and they wish I had brough them lights because the frat house doesn't have any that will work for them. They are mad at the Frat guys because they bitched at them for selling ganja treats from the stand because they are afraid the police might cause a problem. As usual, Mikey takes his frustration out on me. He goes to pay the president their percentage for letting him set up there. He asks if I will pack up the case while he is gone. So Sam stands there and watches me as I load everything into cases and get packed up.

Now they want to walk around and sell ganja treats. I'm really not into this. I tell them they can drive me home and then come back and stay all night if they wish. Or I said they could stay and I would pick them up later. Didn't really matter to me but I didn't want to really go get them later, but I would have and I didn't tell them that. I agree to walk around for a few minutes because I really wanted to see all the pumpkins lit up. I would have stayed but I just didn't want to walk around drinking and selling ganja treats to college kids. I'm thirty fucking years old. I wanted to look at the pumkins, maybe have some treats, or a sausage grinder, see what other people were vending and then head home to my warm bed and enjoy my relaxing day off. I don't have any desire to hang around with drunk, beligerent kids. But my brother is only nineteen and was really into it which is totally understandable. And Mikey like anything where anyone hangs around him making him feel cool. So all day he was all, "oh did you see this hot girl and that hot girl. And blah, blah, blah." As long as he has drugs nto make him feel cool he doesn't have to learn how to be a decent guy I guess.
So they finally decided they were just going to drive me home so they could leave when ever they wanted to and I could go home and get some sleep. Sounded great to me. So we were on our way to the car and ran into our uptairs neighbors and they told him there were fireworks in an hour. And suddenly it's as if Mikey's been waiting for the fucking fire works all day. He didn't even know about them until Sean told him. And he's all "We better hurry, I'll never get back in time. All I want to do is go to the fireworks and sell these treats. That's where everyone will be. We're gonna miss it because of you. We'll never get back in time. What the fuck."

Me: "Well, I think it will be really crowded and filled with kids and families. I think you'd be better off going back to the frat house and hanging out inside and selling them there. You didn't even know they were having fireworks, how can it be that important suddenly?"

Whatever, basically he takes it out on me because his friend made it seem like it was cool to set up at this stupid frat house and he would make a bunch of money and that didn't happen. They frat guys were drunk, pompous assholes and they made no money. But that's not my fault and I'm so sick of bending over backwards to try to make him happy, thinking that will in turn make my life easier, and having him just be miserable no matter what and make me miserable.

This doesn't even make any sense. I didn't even write about the worst part. Tells me I've been nothing but annoying all day. How can a person be annoyimng when the only time they are even present is when they are delivering your various requests. Fuck, fuck, fuck FUCK!!!!! HIM!!!!

I am SO ANGRY right now. I hate that I cry when I'm mad. I hate every pathetic, hot tear.
I hate that I have no money. I hate all the bad choices I've made. I hate all the bad choices that have been made for me and the ones that just affected me made by others. I hate being stuck here, saving money until I can leave or get him to.

I feel like I could explode.

Mikey and my little bro, Sam, are down in Keene at the Pumpkin Fest trying to sell some glass rings and jars. They brought a few pipes but we didn't think it would be that cool to sell pipes there and he didn't have a lot of time to prepare. But mad people were asking about pipes before I left to come back to get some chairs. I'm also whipping out some more ganja crispy treats. I hate making these f'n things because I get so wasted just making them I can hardly stay awake or standing. That's not even eating any, just getting the oils on my hands and breathing in the fumes of the heating oil. I'm almost done, thankfully.

Hope everyone is having a good weekend. Nice weather here. Sunny, cool.

Oh, I wish I had the time to stroll through the posts of all those who always manage to entertain me. I could, of course, shirk all my other responsibilities and lounge here instead. But then Mikey will bitch about me not getting anything done when he gets home with Sam. He just left to drive to Exeter, NH to pick him up(my little brother). They are pretty close friends, blow glass together, smoke buds, go fishing, and make videos for YouTube for hours at a time among other various guy activities. So I need to get our apartment cleaned up for an extra person to be staying here.

First I have to take dogs for a walk - seven dogs, seven little harness collars(so I don't accidentally break their little necks, that would suck), seven leashes - what a pain in the ass! I used to just take them out w/out leashes and shit since I live right in a huge ten acre at least field in the boonies. But my stupid neighbors called the cops on us and complained that the dogs were going to bite their visiting grandchildren. I need to be clear on the point that they never mentioned to us that there was ever an issue they had with the dogs. In fact, we hardly ever encountered them ever because I try to avoid that at all costs. I would always run right from the back door to the field. Every so often someone would come out at the same moment I did, the dogs would run over to them and bark at them for a minute and then we'd be off. No one ever got close to bit. My dogs weigh like four pounds a piece, honestly. You could kick them to the sky in an instant if they did try to bite anyone. But anyway, I want to avoid further issues so I just put their stupid leashes on until we get to the way back of the field and then I let them run free, dragging their leashes behind them for easy grabbing access should anyone creep up on us.
The cop was pretty nice to us because there is no leash law in our town and it was clear that my trashy neighbors were being slightly hysterical. Plus, they way you behave says a lot about whether you are to be trusted and believed. And these people, even though they called the cops, were acting like assholes when talking to the cop. He had to tell them to shut up and stop interrupting him. He obviously felt bad for us having to deal with them. But he asked us if we could just put them on leashes to make them more comfortable and obviously we were not going to argue with him. But the woman kept repeating, "All's I'm sayin' is that my kids get bite, I'm gonna shoot them dogs. I'll kill em', I swear". Classy.

Oh, I go on and on. I have to steam clean my carpet, mop kitchen floor, vacuum, vacuum, vacuum. The bathroom needs a scrub, laundry must be done, and a dump run ta boot.

What am I doing just sitting here cyber-blabbing?!?

Until later, folks. Enjoy the crisp fall day ahead.

On my way to the clinic and It's SNOWING!!! Whoo hooo!! Who doesn't love the first snow of the year? Besides Mikey whose whining that our tires are bald and boo hoo he has to drive down to the coast to get my little bro for the weekend. We're selling rings and other glass blown items at the local Pumpkin Fest this saturday.

I gotta run but I will really try to remember to get a pic of the snow. Until later, my friends who are probably sleeping, or working, or otherwise engaged.

Man, am I beat tonight. It's going to be all I can do to stay awake through the night tonight. Long, long night it will be. I've got my Turbo hot for the first part and some obscenely large "energy" drink for the wee hours, but I'm not sure there is anything short of bathtub crank that could keep my eyes open for the long haul. The shoddy, forced hot air, eyeball parching heat they've got going on in here doesn't help matters. I haven't been here for even a whole hour and I'm seriously dreading the hours and hours which remain spread out in front of me like a vast ocean impossible to cross. If I'm feeling this faded already, what is three am going to look like?

Three and a half hours down......only eight and a half more to go....

There is simply no finding comfort tonight. I turn the heat on and it gets so hot I begin to sweat. I turn it down, just a smidgen, hardly at all, and suddenly I'm freezing. There are several things I should be getting done tonight while I am stuck here, but I can hardly lift a finger without feeling like I might fall over with exhaustion. I just want to take my pillow (which, yes, I do have with me), put it up on the desk and rest my head until I'm snoring away. Except I don't think I snore.

Just past one. Only half way through. Ugh! Rapidly approaching the long haul of the evening. The wee hours of the morning before the sun rises. The coldest, darkest part of the night. On the very last pages of my easy, scary book. I never thought I would like a book like the one I'm reading. But one night at work a couple months back I had nothing to read. So I picked up a book my co-worker was reading. and even though it creeped me out, I couldn't put it down. Much like it is with any gruesome sight, it is hard to look away.

It is raining now. A cold, steady rain. And another three hours until I get a ride home from my neighbor who works with me. I usually change my clothes before I drive to the clinic, and today I will certainly find something cozy to wear after being cold and wet for so many hours over the night. Besides, I hate wearing my security uniform in public. Mostly because I don't feel as if I really represent that position very well when I'm at a methadone clinic dosing. Also, we're not really security guards. We're more like gate keepers/receptionists. In addition, our uniforms consist of law enforcement issue, black, balloon pants with ankle drawstrings and bright, bumblebee yellow jersey shirts with the word security on the back in black. And then on top of all that we have to wear neon orange traffic safety vests so we don't get hit by a truck, hopefully.

o, my mundane life

So here I am, in my usual location, in a cinder block shack in the middle of sprawling warehouse buildings and asphalt as far as the eye can see. Maybe it will snow tonight, they say. It feels like it could, it's cold enough and has that feeling like the air is a different consistency, more starchy or something and is more still, maybe, before it snows.
It's a good night for the beef stew I made this morning after I went to the clinic. A typical Sunday. Up about seven thirty and got ready to drive to the clinic which takes almost an hour by itself. Then I stopped at Price Chopper, our grocery store around here for some breakfast stuff and some things to eat for dinner at work this week. Then I stopped at Target for pads for the dog's litter box which they only use if they have to because we take them out also. I also got some socks and stuff. But by the time I got home and made breakfast and the stew for tonight, it was practically two in the afternoon. So that left me with four hours to nap before getting up at six to get ready for work. I have to be here by seven, I'm generally on time, I hate being late for anything. It drives me crazy when other people are late too, especially if they don't even call.
Anyway, most Sunday's are like that. I usually get to sleep most of the night on Saturday but it messes me all up if I don't get enough sleep before work because it's twelve hours which can seem really long at three a.m., trust me. And for the next four days I probably won't get much more than six hours of sleep between shifts. No matter what I tell myself, no matter how fast I try to get stuff done, I never make it to bed before one. I want to find another job but I just got vacation time and I'd hate to start all over again but the lack of sleep is killing me, literally. I've read studies about how bad it is for people to work third shift. It's just totally goes against human nature to stay up all night so regularly.


A few hours have passed since I started this post. I write some, then I read my book for a few hours, write a little more if something leaps to mind. On that note, I was thinking about how I wish I could work a second shift rather than third. And that people who work third shift should be compensated more than just getting an extra fifty cents more per hour. I think we should make at least two dollars more an hour to work twelve hour, overnight shifts. Plus the rest of the workers in the warehouse get hazard pay, but we don't. Even though we have to walk beside tractor/trailers and through the yard with trucks flying by, in all sorts of weather and bad lighting.

I live at the same place as the girl who works with me on nights. Works out pretty well, I give her a bit of gas money and she drives me home a few nights a week. Mikey generally drives me to work in case I need to stop for coffee or whatever, but then Laura drives me home and most days I drive myself to the clinic so Mike can stay sleep in a bit longer.
Speaking of sleeping, it's true that when people don't get adequate sleep a deficit is created and can rarely be replenished fully. I for sure have a deficit of sleep in my life. I wish I could begin my replenishment cycle now. But it will be at least another four hours. Today, I'm not wasting time stopping at a grocery store on the way home - oh, wait, yes I am. I need to pick up dog food I forgot to get yesterday.

Mmmm, bacon.

As anyone can probably ascertain from the sudden increase in pointless posts, I am slightly over-excited about getting Internet hook-up at my apartment. Finally. I haven't had my own, private Internet connection from my own home in years. And the last time it only lasted briefly, as it was during our using years and bill paying was not top priority. But slowly, yet surely, things have been improving in our life. I have always felt pretty sure about the fact that one day I will be okay, one day I will not have to worry about money, one day I will have a house of my own, and a car that I don't have to worry might break down, I just know, deep down, that I can accomplish all that I desire. I've never doubted that it will be. It just sometimes seems that it shouldn't be quite so difficult to get there. But then sometimes it doesn't seem so difficult. Though I am not at my final destination, I feel as if things are getting easier. And a lot of things have gone wrong lately, so I should be frantic if I were following my own patterns, but I'm not. Things have worked out pretty well, in spite of the monkey wrench which flings itself in the cogs of my life wheel more frequently than I feel necessary.

I just have to mention this, I have found the perfect way to make bacon. Oddly, I discovered this fine tidbit in a recent issue of Cosmo, the one with Megan Fox on the cover. You know, I don't really like that girl. She's pretty enough but she just seems so, I don't know, blah I guess. Not nice, empty-ish and concerned with frivolous things more so than even other celebrities. I really don't know much about her but I read her interview and thought it sucked. But back to the bacon, which is, honestly, more yummy to me than Megan Fox. Mmm, bacon. Which I have to get off my ass and make by.....Set your oven to 400 F, then I take a 9 x 11 in. glass pan and I put a metal cooling rack across the top of it so that as the bacon cooks, the grease drips below into the pan which is way healthier. (Although, it should be made clear that the health factor is not the reason I like to make the bacon this way. It really does come out awesome.) So anyway, I lay about seven or eight slices across the cooling rack and let it cook for about twenty minutes until done to your satisfaction. I use the thick sliced bacon that you can buy by the slice at the deli counter, it comes out the best. I'll try to get a picture. Anyhow. gotta get to it. Then take the dogs out and then steam clean the doggie accidents out of my carpet using my crappy little tiny steamer because my big one broke last night, that should take forever. Then I have to go through the mountain of bills piling up on my kitchen table.
Although, throughout all that work there has to be some play... on a Saturday, no less. A fine cool, sunny fall day. I want to post some pics of the foliage out here. And some of Mikey's new glass-bowing shed he's set up on our back deck. (yeah, the landlord okay'd the shack, but I'm not sure how he's going to feel if he ever figures out what he's doing inside, I guess we'll find out. We're trying to get it set up first and ready to be inspected by the town if necessary. He's a pretty mellow guy so I'm not really worried. And our neighbor welds stuff in his shed, so Mikey's torch is way smaller than that) Anyhow, pics later and I can't wait to roam around and read all my favorites from the comfort of my own home once I have a sec when I don't know I should really be doing my chores. Until later.

Good Morning. Isn't this so great, I'm sure all will agree, to be able to pop in at a whim. On my way to the good ol' clinic. I think I've been so meanly banned from blogger by work for so long I didn't even mention going back to the clinic. But, alas, here I am. Out the door to wait for my "medicine" with all the other weaklings. I don't really believe we are weak, sorry I wrote that, I could erase it but I won't.

To the clinic, stop at the bookstore to get another cheap, paperback mystery because it's the only thing that keeps me up all night at work lately. If I scare the shit out of myself, You know I don't want to close my eyes then.

I need coffee. Until later.

Internet on the homestead! Yippy!!

Whoo hoo-ooo-ooo! Internet at my apartment. How good does life get? I bet my posts will be of a totally different vibe when I write at home. Although I'll have to deal w/Mikey up my ass like right now. "Are you going to watch the ravioli?" (Whine,whine,whine)"I don't know when they're done." Give me a break.

So,anyway. I'll be back. Soon. Oh, you can bet on it.

Wet, tired, I want to go home. This job would be alright if the hours weren't so long. All I can think about is my warm bed. I love to sleep when it's raining or snowing out. There's something calming about precipitation.

NO Ma'am

For some reason I hate being called ma'am by people who are not from the south. I know it is always meant to be polite and respectful but it makes me feel old when people from up here say it. I would never refer to anyone as a ma'am unless they were clearly middle aged, at least forty. Especially now that forty is really quite young, since people are living to be so much older than we used to. It seems pretty normal for people to live into their eighties these days. I think if it is clear that someone is under forty you should refrain from calling them ma'am unless you happen to be from the south where it is the custom to use the word much more freely in everyday language. If the woman is clearly under thirty I think, in most cases, you can still call her miss. In between those ages, just avoid using the word. Or use the full word, madame, which doesn't sound as dowdy to me.
I probably sound crazy. But I'm a pretty young thirty and I just cringe when people call me ma'am. It makes me think I must look so much older than I think I look. Do I have, like, deep waxy wrinkles all over my face? Am I one of those women people look at and pity because she looks like she's wearing her daughters clothes? I really don't think it's that bad. I may have gained a bit of weight the past few years but not enough to make me a ma'am.