Sunday, June 27, 2010

So lately I've been doing a lot of yoga. Well, a lot for me. Certainly that is not as much as many yogis out there are doing. But it's a start. I can understand now how yoga can be responsible for weight loss and muscle strengthening. It's definitely more than just sitting around doing stretches. A lot more. Sometimes, depending on how the routine or the circumstance, I break out into a pretty heavy sweat. And although I'm not breathing heavily in the same exact way as I would doing some sort of cardio exercise, I'm definitely exerting my breath and strengthening my lungs. I'm actually surprised and amazed. I mean, I always conceptually understood that yoga had benefits. How could something endure with such high praise for so long if there were not benefits galore? But I've always had a hard time in the past finding time to fit a yoga practice into my life. I thought I had to take a class and that would be expensive, and I was working so much and making so little, it just some impossible. But finally having the peace in my life to find myself and what I really need and love has done wonders for me already. My Mom has cable so I can follow the yoga practices on the On Demand feature. And eventually, because of the help of my mother, I will have my license and a car and a job, and school, and hopefully then I can take a real class and get certified to teach. Hopefully doing it as much as I can now will give me a foundation for when I want to take it to the next level.

What I really wanted to write about though is how much yoga has helped my shoulder. it still hurts, but not nearly as much as it did before. I think the pain has been causing me to readjust the rest of my body to try to avoid moving my arm at all. So I was getting twisted and off balance. After a couple weeks of doing stuff to open my chest, shoulders, back and hips, I feel like a different body. It's like I want to do yoga right now because I feel so good afterward. It's really helping me build muscle to because you have to hold these fricken poses in, like, a lunge position. So you're lunging one way, holding your arms out and circling them about your head, all the while breathing deeply and controlled. It's damn hard. Harder than a good curves workout for sure. I'm looking forward to taking this activity further.

Friday, June 25, 2010

So I was watching a movie the other day and there was a concept I found very interesting. Have you ever thought about what your last meal will be? What's the last song you will hear? Will I know ahead of time? Will I get to pick my last outfit? I know that my last outfit might sound silly, but doesn't it make you want that outfit to be a good one? The thought that what I'm eating right now might be the last thing I ever eat makes me want to make this meal awesome. And it is in a way. Fresh basil, fresh tomato and spinach, toasted on just made bread with perfect cheddar melted on top. It makes me want to make every song I listen a really great one. It just makes me want to make everything I do worth it, because if it is my last, I want it to be a good one.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

An Apology Post

Oh my, I have to counteract the massive purging of negativity on my part this morning. I don't take back the truth in anything I wrote. And since no one in question reads my blog, there's no feelings to be hurt. I guess that's, in part, one of the biggest reasons I use Blogger. If I get it out here, I'm less likely to take it out elsewhere. But I went to the clinic and for my morning walk, and I learned a few things.

1. It really helps for me to get out of the house and just walk.
2. It's even better if I can get myself to stop and do some stretching and breathing exercises.
3. I am not as angry after I calm myself down and relax.
4. I do have the ability to let things go.
5. I will not be here forever, this is only a moment, and moments pass.
6. I can get to where I want to. I have seen a lot of change so far.
7. I'm going to have to separate my dogs, and one by one, make the like people. I have a plan.
8. Yoga does actually change your body chemistry. It's amazing.

I know I sound cheesy. But I'm really trying hard to make this time I have here a transitional period. I'm done making excuses for myself. I have to take control and make happen the things I want. I know I've already taken strides in the right direction. I do feel empowered by the change I see in myself over time. It makes me feel like there is hope.

I apologize to anyone who may have stumbled across my angry post. I needed to get it out but I hope it didn't stick to any of you.

I am now sending out very positive, happy vibes to everyone! Thank You!
I need a little reassurance. And sometimes just writing something down makes it makes a bit more sense to me. I often feel as if I am my Mom's employee, not a member of this household. She thinks we're getting on great, well except for the past few days she's been horribly mean to me because I say something about the way her boyfriend treats people. I didn't scream it, swear it, or otherwise deliver the information in an obnoxious way. I was a bit upset because he's a bully. All around, to everyone. And she knows it. She lets everyone, but me, I'm her punching bag and always have been. That's why I moved to begin with. I can't stand being the person she takes out everything on. If she's mad at my sister, takes it out on me because I won't be as mean as Lily, ever, or as loud as Lily, ever. I won't hit her like she's afraid my brothers will. But she is the one who cultivated the relationship to be the way it is with everyone around her. And then she doesn't want to fix anything, she just wants to complain. I'm sick and tired of her crap. I've been sick and tired of it since the days she manipulated me into sitting around listening to her bad mouth my father and bitterly complain about a divorce that she asked for! I'm SO MAD right now. I just, simply find my mother to be a sad, simple, pathetic woman who is angry at the world. She thinks the world owes her something for her crappy life. If you ask me, she's blessed. She has a home, money without having to work, four healthy (physically) children, and honestly, the world at her fingertips. She could do whatever she wants. But all she wants is to complain.

And when I'm around it's suddenly as if her own arms and legs don't work. Nellie do this, Nellie do that. Now I really don't mind helping around the house, but this is way beyond that. She mad as hell right now because I spent yesterday painting part of the floor of the basement I have to live in. I just want to make it livable before winter. I also need to set up a desk so I can go to school and be able to do homework. I also need to take some time to myself so I can find a job. I spent pretty much all my money on my methadone payments. So I need a job because I'd rather spit up blood daily than ask her for money. See my siblings have always ignored her bullshit, let it slip over them, so they ask, ask, ask. I've always wanted to ask her for nothing. She's the typical sour Italian woman who will give you something and then hold it over your head for eternity! I can't take the guilt, the stress, the lies. Because I think behavior like that is one big lie to yourself. You can't tell yourself what is really the most important to yourself, so you are unable to stand up for what you want. How do you get to be on this planet for 60 years and be so scared to look inside yourself?

Example: She's been wanting this oldish, 1920's type crystal chandelier. It helps to know that buying things is one of the only ways she feels whole. So she finally bought it the other day when she dragged me to the antique shop on the pretense that we were trying to find the feed and grain store. So she bought it. She got a hundred bucks off because she sort of knows the man. So she was wicked excited to hang it. And she had asked her horrible "boyfriend" to come up to help her do some stuff around the house. She probably would have gladly had me do it since he complained the whole time and took, like, five hundred breaks, but I'm not strong enough or tall enough for certain things. So anyway, he fancies himself some sort of expert, because he's got to be the cheapest man alive, on obtaining things for a deal. And unless he's the one to find the deal, he puts it down. So he's ripping on this thing that my mom bought, making her feel shitty. Saying it was worth only fifty bucks. And she's just doing nothing. Sheepishly giving him some sort of satisfaction by getting red-faced and upset while scrubbing the dirty crystal furiously to clean it to hang. And he's just sitting there, in a lawn chair, watching her work, criticizing. I think he's a poor excuse for a man. And I know she just wants help and companionship, but only when it's convenient for her. That's always sort of been her thing. Something is cool, only if it's cool with her at the moment. And you never know which moment is which. He does passive aggressive stuff like that everyday, all day long. He's snide, sneaky, and cheating. And I know, and this is telling, that my Mom though he was rich when she met him and that colored her opinion of him. She would have seen him more realistically if he hadn't posed himself as something other than what he actually is. He was RENTING a house in Westport, CT from his friends for really cheap. My Mom thought the house was fancy. Now he's living in his daughters vacant apartment while she's away since the other people came home and didn't want to share their house with Larry anymore. But at least he had my mom go down there and break her back cleaning it for him so he could get his deposit back. And she thought he had this great business until she realized it was going under and he needed money, lots of it, to stop that from happening. He's mid divorce, was fired from his last job and leaves the Volvo he bought with money he stole from his dying father at my mom's house so he doesn't have to share it with his wife in the divorce. Cool guy. I think I'll find someone just like him. And then I will stick hot needles in my eyes for fun. Sweet role models I've always had, I wonder why it's been so hard to find up from down. Anyway, I swear my Mom treats me badly when she knows something I said was right but she doesn't want to admit it. She was annoyed with him too. He's sitting under the umbrella outside while she's lugging stuff around. Of course she is crazy and doesn't know when to stop and wants everyone else right there with her. Except when she overdoes it, every couple days, and has to lie in bed puking to recover. Then she doesn't think you get to rest too, because you were her minion the whole time. Now you must serve her. Get me eggs, go pick up my medication, vacuum the house, do, do do. I'm sick of it. The family therapist says to write down everything I do, and once it equals what I would pay for rent, tell her and then anything I do over that, she has tom pay me. She didn't like that idea. I did.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Do You Like Jackson Pollock?

I Know that there are very many people out there who really don't like this type of art. Although I wouldn't call it my favorite, I think there is some merit to it. Part of what makes art, well, art I guess, is that whatever it is makes people feel something, some strong emotion. And if the so-called art does this for enough people that it becomes well-known, I think that's enough for it to count as "real" art. Of course being well-known or not doesn't really matter for something to be art, it only matters if the artist desires recognition, right?
Well, anyway, I like these paintings because they are visual representations of the way I sometimes feel inside, emotionally, psychologically, just the way I feel as a piece of matter walking around. All frazzled and crazy. Not necessarily bad or not beautiful, but definitely hectic and hard to follow. A little misunderstood.

Even though this is, actually and truly, just a bunch a splatters of paint, there's something to it. I think. I like the black spots. They are like concentrations of anger for me, or anxiety, which are still all compacted while the rest of the soul of the painting is trying to break free. Maybe calm people hate these paintings because they don't ever feel this way and don't understand. And maybe anxious people hate them because it reminds them too much of themselves. Who knows? But I like them. We owe this random post to the inspirational paintings by Jackson Pollock.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Ham Croquettes: The Recipe

This post is for Gledwood: What is a Ham Croquette?

I know you like to eat, you're always writing about food. So I figured I'd give you my croquette recipe to try if you would like. It's a rather inexpensive, yet tasty meal. I think you can make a croquette out of just about anything. The properties must include something mushy in the middle, covered with, like you said, a crunchy outside. In my version I grind up previously cooked ham, leftovers are great for this, and mix it with a basic white sauce to hold it together. White sauce is my new favorite thing. So simple, yet so yummy! Start with 2T butter, melt the butter in a medium saucepan. Keep in mind you can double or quadruple the recipe per your white sauce needs. After the butter is melted, the 2T of flour is added to the butter very slowly, mixing it all the while. Keep the flour/butter mixture over med-low heat, continue to stir until it starts to thicken and turn sort of golden, not brown and not too thick, maybe five minutes. Then, once your butter and flour mixture is ready, you want to slowly add one cup of milk. Add some milk, stir vigorously until well blended and smooth, then add a bit more and repeat. You want to use a whisk or something so that your sauce doesn't get lumpy. Smooth, smooth, smooth is what you want. So, it will seem considerably more thin once the milk has been fully added. That's okay, it will thicken a good deal as it cooks. Just keep the heat med-low, and stir consistently, don't let it sit too long ever or it will lump on the bottom of pot. Once it begins to thicken, I like to add a smidge of nutmeg. Now you have a basic white sauce.

I always use as much ham as I need for however many people are eating. So obviously that can differ a great deal depending on the situation. So this is where you just have to use good judgment. It's sort of like adding mayonnaise to tuna or egg salad, there's a fine line between just right or too much. You want to start slowly, add just a bit of your white sauce to your ham, mix it up and test it to see how well it holds together. You want to add some moisture, but the main goal is to have your ham be able to hold together when you mold it into little elongated, round patties. You'll want to have all your ingredients together before you get started. This includes two bowls, one for an egg/milk mixture, and another for bread crumbs. I like to use Panko bread crumbs. They're these Asian bread crumbs that are hip right now, they're definitely better than your average bread crumbs. So I usually do one at a time. Mold your ham ball, dip in egg, dip in bread crumb. I like to repeat the procedure so each croquette gets double dipped. They get a crunchier crust that way, I think. Although it's probably more calories that way. Then once you've got all your croquettes dipped and breaded, they should be stacked on a plate. You'll want to let them chill in your fridge so they firm up. Give them about half an hour. They'll be easier to fry and they won't, shouldn't anyhow, fall apart that way. After chilling, take out your croquettes and fry them until golden brown and crispy. I use a couple inches of canola oil in a cast iron frying pan.Make sure your oil is really hot before you begin frying. And they are so delicious. After I use whatever white sauce I need for adding to the ham in the beginning, I like to have some leftover to top my croquettes with. I like to add fresh peas to the sauce and let them cook in the sauce until the croquettes are ready. This is a very tasty topping. I hope you try them, everyone!

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Wicked good dinner tonight. Ham Croquettes topped with a white sauce with peas, roasted asparagus, and spaghetti squash. Blueberry pie for dessert. All homemade by moi. I must give my mother credit for the menu.

I'm so stuffed, I have to stop myself.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Wagon Hill Farm

Wagon Hill Farm, Durham, New Hampshire. Otherwise known as my Heaven on Earth. I've recently discovered this little piece of paradise. I found it a little over a month ago as I was searching for an out of the way hiking area to take my dogs. Since they are still little demons, despite my trying desperately to retrain them and myself to be more calm and thoughtful. We all have a long, long way to go. But things are getting easier. In part, because of this place. It happens to be right around the corner from my new clinic. So it has become part of my routine to take the dogs with me every morning now, and go for a walk with them before heading home. I think the whole shebang, the walk, but even just being in the car, has been very therapeutic for them. And me. Because I'm learning that I don't need to be so tense over the dogs, and in turn, that makes them less tense too.
We have to go through a toll booth every day to get onto I-95. And at first it was terribly embarrassing because the dogs would freak at the attendant. They would start barking as soon as they saw that there was a person there. But now we can roll right through. Happy and silent. I consider that a major milestone. Whoo-hoo.

So these first two pics are what you see at the very beginning of the walk. Clearly it's an old farm that was turned into some sort of reserve. I guess I should read their info next time I visit. That will be tomorrow, I guess. So anyway, there is a big white farmhouse next to the two, upper and lower, parking areas. Then mostly fields just like this until you hit a small rim of wooded area, a buffer before the marsh, and ultimately, the bay.

You can see here the water snaking it's way into the forest.

And my incredibly spoiled dogs lounging in the marsh, soaking up the sun.

I like to sit on this driftwood log and read a book or a magazine. It's the perfect little perch.

Most of the paths are like this one. Mowed through the fields so most days I go barefoot. It's perfect. And there is a peak at my little beach. I think I could swim here once it's a bit warmer.
The picture of the tree hanging over the water reminds me of someplace tropical. I have pictures of a trip to Jamaica that look just like this. I think if I were to slip this picture in with those no one would know the difference. It's just such a peaceful place. I feel so lucky I found it. I never see anyone else there. Besides the fishermen on their lobster boats out in the bay.

And then, of course, more dog pictures. Because I'm one of those annoying, crazy people who takes their dogs everywhere, leaves the A/C on for them, puts them in little outfits and gives them hot dogs for treats.

Well, that's it for now folks. Good vibes to you all.

Monday, June 7, 2010

Another day, just another day. Not good, not bad. I made some progress in the way of getting my driver's license back. Made a bunch of phone calls. The dreaded Dept. of Motor Vehicle type crap, the long, long wait on hold, all the things which make me put it off for so long were all in order of course. But I didn't let it get me down today. No, as soon as I noticed my ear aching from holding the dang phone next to it for so long, and I hadn't even spoken to anyone yet, I decided I would make use of this time so I wasn't super pissed by the time someone helped me. So I put the phone on speaker, set it down on the coffee table and got out my family's laundry to fold. My Mom is sick upstairs, which, as much as I'm sorry she doesn't feel well, gets her out of my hair for a bit. So I don't mind doing the laundry at all, especially if it means she won't do it and then get upset about it. But anyhoo, by the time a representative came to my rescue, I had folded forty-five minutes worth of towels and my sister's clothes. But I wasn't pissy with the woman, and what do you know, she was very helpful. So I guess it just goes to show that it's worth whatever it takes to try to stay calm and relaxed through all of the crap in life. Not that I am any good at it, I just know I should be. And I think I deserve a medal every time I don't act crazy. As if I shouldn't just expect for people to expect me not to be crazy to begin with.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Am I crazy or does the volume get louder during commercials than during the main show? Is it really because people generally walk away during commercials and advertisers want people to be able to hear the ad from the kitchen/bathroom whatever?
For so many years I didn't have television in my apartments. Not because I have any moral reasoning against it, I just couldn't afford to pay for cable. I would have if I could have. We always had an actual television, so we mostly rented movies. I love Redbox. But now that I'm living at my Mom's house, I have cable in my room. And I'm really torn. I love it, and I hate what it does to me. Or rather what I do to myself with it.
I'm hooked on all the crime shows that are on ALL the time. So I'll be down here trying to get stuff done and put the t.v. on in the background, and the next thing I know I'm sitting on the edge of the bed with my jaw hanging open in awe. Some of this stuff is so unbelievable.
There was just a show that was talking a lot of the psychology of being a victim and the guilt and shame which accompanies it. And it was just so sad and upsetting to see what had happened to some of these kids who had survived an abduction of some sort. I have a hard time understanding how people can be so disturbed.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Orange Pride

Oh My, I have to share this. I'm cleaning my dungeon, I mean my room in the basement, and I have the cable on in the background. It keeps the overwhelming pressure of total silence from bearing down on me until I can't breathe. And I'm not making this up, there was a Hooters commercial that wasn't trying to solicit customers, but employees. And it was clips of a series of women stating how proud they were to work for Hooters because it helped them pay for this or that, or it taught them the "value of customer service", or whatever. And I don't really care if someone wants to work at Hooters. But let's face it, it's all about the money, not the sense of pride they feel walking through those doors every day. That's really the only reason 99% of all women who make the decision to sell their bodies do so. Whether it's only part of their bodies, or the whole thing doesn't really make a difference. It's still a compromise they're making to make the most amount of money possible. Most women would rather be able to do something else and still make what they make by baring flesh and being ogled. That's why as soon as they are able they leave to attempt whatever it was that was their goal; at least half of the women said they were proud because it helped them accomplish something else, something better, something they were really proud of. Who they hell is really and truly proud of the pile of money in front of them when looking at it elicits visions of shaking your tits in the face of a fat, greasy, pathetic man who you would much rather smack and tell "Clean yourself up, Man! Have some self-respect or you don't get to see titties like these unless circumstances involve a load of desperation and pity!".
I guess what I'm trying to say is: do what you gotta do, but call it by it's real name. Don't make it out to seem like anyone would work at a place like Hooters for any other reason than waitressing is the only thing they're qualified to do and Hooters gets better tips than Denny's. I only feel like I can write this, and no one can say I'm just a prude bitch who just doesn't get it, because I've been in the position myself where I've seriously contemplated working as a stripper or at some crappy Hooters type place. And it generally takes one to know one. And I know that in my heart I didn't smile when I pictured myself there, I cringed. Because even though most guys, or even women in some rare cases, probably go to Hooters and even strip clubs to have a good time, with no ill intent in their hearts, that is not always how things turn out. I mean...even working a "regular" type job, like a bakery, farm, or trucking company you get the weirdos from time to time who say or do something borderline inappropriate or uncomfortable. And then when you add full or partial nudity, or even in the case of Hooters, no actual nudity but a scarcity of fabric and a strong sexual insinuation, boundaries become less clear. And when it is part of your job to be very friendly, it's hard to know when to draw the line. I know that I personally put up with way more crap from bosses and customers than I would from anyone else.
I don't know, I guess my opinion is not that well thought out. I guess it's sort of like how most people are born just knowing right from wrong. It's just something you know, you feel it like it's an extension of your own self, knowledge that just came with your brain when you got it. And there is something about the way in which sex is sold these days that just seems unhealthy to me.

Wait. I have to explain something. I am NOT against the exchange of goods for sex. But it must be an even, safe, fair, and respectful trade. The purchaser must understand that they are buying something very special. As it is, people look down on the person who sells their body. In the current climate, such people are looked upon as morally loose, less worthy of respect , lacking respect for themselves, and easily disposed of. I suppose I can't really speak of what goes on in other places, but in the United States certain jobs are considered more worthy than others. In most cases, the service jobs, the manual laborers, even teachers and police, the people who really do the jobs that NEED to be done get paid barely enough to live on. While the people who are entertainers or work at jobs which have only developed as life has changed to give people more luxury and leisure time, they make more money than they even know what to do with. And we equate money with worth in this country. But those jobs could disappear and no one would die because their services are no longer. I think we need to reevaluate what is important in this country. We need to move away from our obsession with material possessions and focus on connections with ourselves, the people around us, and our physical and spiritual worlds. And if you consider such connections our purpose of living, than sex work would be considered a very important job. In a way, being a sex worker could be considered working in health care. Because all people crave physical touch, human connection. Lonely people who have no one to connect with tend to develop illnesses and die years before those who do have close connections with other people. But some people don't know how to create those connections, they need help. A lot of times it's those folks who visit prostitutes. Sure, there are the weirdos, but often it's just that they don't know how to ask the people in their lives for what they need, or they have no one to ask. Sex is a great way to alleviate stress and relax on a deep level. And many times, sex workers create close relationships with their customers over the years and even add aspects of talk therapy into their sessions. In a perfect world, sex workers would be considered well-trained healers, physical and mental. They would be respected. But they are not. And I don't think it's right to put commercials like the Hooters ad on t.v. where young girls see that and think that's the reality. It's glorifying a really crappy, demeaning job and perpetuating an overall acceptance of women as sex objects.

Well, this turned into a really long rant. I didn't see that happening when I began. I was shocked in a sort of humorous way but then I began to get kind of angry as I thought more and more of the injustice in the world. There is just so much of it everywhere I look. It can be overwhelming to think of all the things that are wrong in this world. I apologize for the harsh, judgemental tone, but the subject is very important. So have a good day, all.

Oh yeah, my title today is Orange Pride because that was, like, their thing. You know, orange is Hooters' color and at the end of the commercial they were like, "Whooo-hooo, Orange Pride, Yay!" Gag.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Hazy Tuesday

Today I am happy. Not every day is like that, so I think I should really try to savor it. The dreaded brothers are at work, so there is no bitching, no messes, no pee on the toilet seat, or ashes in the sink. At least for a few more blessed hours, I hope. I hope the rain holds off so I can have a few more peaceful, quiet, happy hours. Even my Mom is still away at the moment, and Mikey is off at his buddy's house. I know I would probably get lonely, very lonely if I were to be all alone like this all the time. But I am really and truly all alone so infrequently that when I do have a solitary moment I cherish it.

Took the dogs for a good walk up at Wagon Hill Farm on Route 4, on the way to the University of New Hampshire. It's a gorgeous area, right on the bay, with a mix of woods and fields rolling down to meet the marsh. There is generally a breeze coming off the water, cutting the humidity which is common this time of year. Right this minute is no exception. The best part of the location, for me, is that it is not clearly marked and therefore not ever too populated. My dogs are still terrors; they are getting better, just very slowly. I try to avoid people, which only serves to draw out the problem. But it makes me so tense when they are all barking and snarling and jumping at passers by. I keep them on harnesses that strap around their neck and chest so I have total control over them going anywhere. But still, they jump in the air and spin in circles, howling and shrieking almost, I swear. Today, though, they didn't bark at the man in the tollbooth which is a MAJOR accomplishment for us. Generally I have to practically throw the money at them and take off. But today I stopped long enough for him to remark about the dogs and even give me treats for them. It was amazing. I'm trying to be a better pack leader, but I'm not a dog so I think I give mixed messages sometimes. But it's getting better.

Today I went in a different direction than I normally take. And it was awesome. I found a small, hidden beach with oak trees hanging over mini bluffs. At high tide you could sit in the branches which dip low over the water and feel the waves with your feet. I suppose you could even swim there. A beach on the other side of the trails is designated for swimming, but I generally prefer to be alone. And it's not often you can find a beach in the summer where dogs can run around. It was kind of magical. The property which is public runs alongside a private home and grounds. I can't imagine, well, sure I can, living in a place like that. In fact, I think I would be quite good at being very wealthy. I would really appreciate it. The whole public trail system, the whole farm I walk at, they have the equivalent all to themselves. And I have never seen a soul on any of those magnificent properties which rim the bay.

I had a friend, growing up, who lived in a mansion in Manchester-by-the-Sea. That's the actual name of the town. It's a pretty well off community on the North Shore, south of Gloucester. A lot of people I went to boarding school with were very rich, so I had a momentary glimpse into that lifestyle as a teenager. I think the distaste I eventually developed for them tainted my understanding of money in general for a very long time. It was like I rejected everything to do with having money because I thought everyone who was rich was a bad person. I know that that is not necessarily true, now. Often, maybe, but not always. Anyway, my point was to be that looking at the Manchester bay from the inside of the mansion is not very different from looking at the Portsmouth bay from the woods. Either way, for me, it is quiet and peaceful and I don't own any of it.

Anyhow, I have to get a move on. My mom is coming home in the morning and she will be much easier to get along with if I get a few more of her list items accomplished. I got some things done but it's hard when my brothers are around all weekend. And Sam had his friends all hanging around too. So I'm going to bust ass today before it starts raining. It is in my own favor to do so. Hope everyone out there has a safe and happy day. Peace.

VV is the shit

VV is the shit
We all have to love VV