Anticipation.... Anticipaa-aaa-aaa-aaa-ation.... Is makin' me late... Keepin' me waa-aaa-aaaitin'...
We can never know about the days to come, but we think about them anyway...

I wrote a whine. I deleted it. Sooner or later, everything will work out.

Waiting, waiting, waiting... for the house sale to happen.
Have I mentioned that patience is not my long suit?

In Brief...

I am grateful that E et al made it through hurricane Charley crossing Florida. I hope Bill and Skya and their families are okay as the tempest passes. I am grateful that Xan and the Xoo were not harmed by fire. Naturally I wish the best for all my loved ones, even if they aren't immediately in harm's way. I thank the Powers for all care and tending.

I am hopeful that the appraisal on our house was satisfactory and the sale will proceed apace. I am once again hopeful that Ghost will be coming to the Ark, since his other job fell through. In the meantime, I ask that he and his family will be cared for.

I am thankful for Dad's continued terrific recovery, and for Mom's continued strength. I look forward to being with them for a while when I go home for Grandma's family reunion on Labor Day weekend.

Today's Straw: The War in Iraq
What frosts my wheaties about the war is not so much that we went or why we're 'really' there or who knew what and when and who exaggerated and all that. It's the foggy-headed comparisons to Vietnam... yeah, Viet-friggin-Nam! Anyone old enough to know about Vietnam should know better than to think our excursions into Iraq are remotely comparable.

I'm so apolitical it's scary, and I avoid news whenever possible, but even so, I've finally heard enough of this bullshit to peg my irritation meter.

Vietnam. Go read about it if you don't remember seeing slaughter on the evening news every night for ten years. The entire Iraqi business, including the first time we went over there to bail out Kuwait, doesn't add up to one year of death resulting from Vietnam. Claiming that our troops are currently in the same position now as they were then is an insult to every name on the wall in Washington and all the names we don't even know because we lost track of them in the swamps. It's an affront to every Vet who came back broken and even the guys who broke up their lives to avoid the meat grinder in Asia.

I'm sorry but our current volunteer military is made up mostly of people who wanted college money or couldn't find a civilian job. They are NOT facing the same thing as all those tens of thousands of drafted young men who found themselves fighting deep in the swamps, or in ragged streets where even children could be explosive.

Don't get me wrong, I support everyone we've sent to Iraq. I want every single one of them to come home, safe and sound. I support their families, especially those who have lost or will lose a loved one. But, this is not Vietnam, and this current lot of soldiers isn't likely to return home to people spitting on them or threatening to harm them on our streets too.

Yes, there's danger in Iraq and people are being killed, on both sides. War is like that. People die. If we don't want any more of that, then we must find ways around it. But... don't for a minute try to say that a few hundred deaths in a year equals a hundred in a day.

We're not going in and bombing the shit out of acres of people like we did in Vietnam, Cambodia, etc. We're trying to drop food and supplies for them. We're not wedging ourselves between two obvious factions. We knocked out a man who was committing crimes against humanity and maybe, just maybe, afforded a beaten and fractured population the chance to breathe long enough to figure out what they want. They couldn't dare think about it until now.

I don't know if it was really the right thing for us to go into Iraq. I don't know if we ever really had justification. But I have to say this, I'm damned glad we're not killing and being killed in massive numbers as it was with Vietnam. We're still playing at war and I hate it, but at least we seem to be a little smarter about how we're playing it.

That incomplete list on the Vietnam wall in Washington has over 58,000 names on it. In the year and a half of the Iraqi war, the Coalition forces, not just the US alone, have lost about 1000 in Iraq.

Don't fucking tell me you see a resemblance between Iraq and Vietnam. Don't insult those who died there, or those who've spent every day since trying to figure out how to live with what happened there.

After more than a week of passing counter offers back and forth with the buyers, we're supposed to have a real contract for the sale of the old house as of Monday. According to our real estate agent, the buyers are anxious to get the closing done so they can get moved. We're all for that. It will be very nice to be out from under the additional mortgage payment and utilities, not to mention having the cash proceeds from the sale. Here's hoping.

Politics...
I'm with my soul-twin-sistah Xanadoodle on this one. I want candidates to express their own opinions and visions. Then I could pick those who are best aligned with my own set. (And lets put electrodes on their nads that let us know if they're lying *weg*) Speak from your heart, as sincere servants of the people, and I will listen earnestly. I'll shovel the rest and turn it every so often until its useful under the roses.

Maybe we should do it like a dating service? Have each candidate fill out a survey of general questions, philosphical questions about life, the universe, and everything. Then we publish their answers. Then we vote. If their actions stray too far from their survey, well... technology has come a long way with invisible electronic fences (ref previous mention of nad control).

Let's use campaign money more wisely. Let's teach the masses to fish instead of feeding them fish stories about what candidates did and did not do, think and do not think. The mudslinging literally just muddies the waters, making it hard for us to catch anything of real use.

At this stage, I'm just trying to avoid the serious bottom feeders. Unfortunately, it's hard to tell who's who in all the muck.

The Frog Princess made me do it (because she did it. Gads, I can be such a joiner. )

Tickle.com Classic IQ Test results
Your Intellectual Type is Visionary Philosopher. This means you are highly intelligent and have a powerful mix of skills and insight that can be applied in a variety of different ways. Like Plato, your exceptional math and verbal skills make you very adept at explaining things to others — and at anticipating and predicting patterns. And that's just some of what we know about you from your IQ results.

I'd like to think they're right on most of that, but they're wrong on the math. I suck at math. It's not mathematics that helped me score a 140 on their test, but logic. Two different arenas, math and logic, even though they certainly intersect.

And Tickle.com wants money for the other 15 pages of what they think they know about me. Yeah, I sense a pattern, but again, I can choose to play in their free stuff and skip the rest.  Let's see what they think of my 140 IQ now! muahahaha

Two scoops of raisins...
Now who does not hear the finish of that?
(...in a package of Kellogg's Raisin Bran :)
and now can you see some groovy raisins dancing to the soulful beat of  "Heard It Through The Grapevine"?

Of course we're subjected to crass commercialism day in and day out.  It's sort of like brainwashing, but we're smart and strong enough to resist, if we want to.  I can sing Oscar Mayer's praises at the top of my lungs and still buy Fischer's hot dogs, even though they're the bacon makin' people.

Nothing is all good or all bad. TV can rot brains but it can also awaken them.  Some commercials do a better job of getting us to think outside the box than getting us to buy what's in the box.  Other programming can have secret benefits. Syndication has bridged generation gaps and even geographical gaps, giving chunks of humanity common experiences where there were none before.  And what pays for TV? Advertising. 

Like everything else, it's a matter of what we do with it.

From time to time I've considered creating a silly quest or story based on what TV commercials have fed us over the years. That might be a creative use of the fodder and covert the urge to buy into snickers  (packed with roasted peanuts).

~ After A While ~
After a while, you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
And company doesn't mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts,
And presents aren't promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With the grace of an adult, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans,
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight
And after a while you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure ...
That you really are strong
And you really do have worth
And you learn... and learn...
And with every goodbye, you learn.
 
By Veronica A. Shoffstall 
 
 

Among the things I do not miss...
the screech of a modem dialing up.
 
All cable! All the time!
Oh yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about!

Cryostasis might actually be a useful thing, a way to kill time without beating it to death. Why waste human kilowatt hours on days or weeks that drain energy with aggravation, annoyance, suffering, or even boredom? Why not skip forward a bit, suspend self and let the cycle pass? Of course, one might run the risk of being called... frozen chicken.  
 
Yes, the melancholia persists. 

UMS - Ugly Mood Swings. I didn't make that one up. I first heard it on Moonlighting, an 80's sitcom with Bruce Willis and Cybill Shepherd. I liked that show for the witty repartee between those two. It had a Taming of the Shrew sharpness to it and... I don't want to get off on that tangent.

I'm still experiencing ugly mood swings. I'm not getting many of the highs, but the lows are coming often enough and over the dumbest things. It's the monthly weepies only worse because they're not constrained by the calendar and I actually feel rather stupid at some of the things which are drawing tears. Part of me wants to just crawl in a dark hole and wallow in unjustified pity (over what? hellifino). Part of me wants to lean on the edge of the world and weep for all of humanities problems, or shed tears of joy for all the triumphs.

It really is a bit of a bother to just be crying a lot, in either direction. My frikken heart swells up and spills over onto my cheeks during the 'reveals' on the home improvement shows! I'd be a true puddle if I caught a Hallmark commercial. Hell, just thinking about those tightens my throat. What IS this?

I could write it off to hormonal flux, I guess, despite lack of physical evidence to bear it out. I know this perimenopausal process is far too long and much too harrowing when it flares up. I've been on the slippery slope for several years now and I've had quite enough. To borrow from Archie Bunker, "G'head, Edith. If yer gonna have a change of life, do it now. I'll give ya 30 seconds."

If my spouse had an iota of empathy or compassion in his person, I might curl up with him and have a good long cry. He doesn't, so I don't. For him, "hugging is faggoty" unless it's done horizontally. Crying is absolutely verboten in his presence. He has no idea what to do with it and I can feel him recoil into the next galaxy. Not very comforting.

I'm not all that shot in the ass about this tearfulness myself, but I think I would only do myself harm to try to bind it up and trap it within. I've come to believe that's how people end up with terminal illnesses, their bodies are riddled with stuff they wouldn't allow themselves to release. So, I'll just cry, reckon, til it's all cried out.

There are other effects going on as well. I'm worn out or irritated or frustrated. There are perhaps explanations but no real justifications, in my opinion. It's just a general grating with a myriad of manifestations.

I don't want to be numb, but I also don't want to be the volley ball batted back and forth across the net between the Warm Fuzzies and Cold Pricklies. I like a more even sailing with the occasional spikes. The blind slam dunks are starting to wear on me. Even more explanation than being an aging female would help. That excuse doesn't do much to lift one's spirits.

I almost feel as though I live in a resort park. I mean, the drive in or out is good paved road, but it's a winding narrow road through a tunnel of trees. Instead of passing house after house, most of the trip is only dotted with houses between stretches of forest.

From inside my house, the whole view out back is forest. When I'm laying in bed I can see nothing but trees through the two windows door. Same tree view from the kitchen nook bay and the living room. Only the dining room and guest room windows face the street.

It's like seeing my furniture in a nice resort lodge or something, but... I actually live here.

I know that when Fall comes and the trees go bare, there will be a few houses visible out back, albeit at some distance. I think I'm okay with that. Most of the view will still be the dark twisted fingers of trees reaching up into the sky.

We've had deer visiting, as well as birds and lizards and a host of squirrels. It's like living inside the grounds of a state park. It's just the sort of place I like.

Even as I've begun to scatter our things around in the new house, in order to make it more like a home, I don't ever want to take this scenery for granted. It's serenity straight from Mother Nature, and I thank her for her wonders.

Back when I was in the corporate world, I used to delay parts of myself. I'd save my creative activities until the weekend, as well as any socializing. I used to put off emotional fits until after work hours, even though it was usually people or circumstances at work that prompted them. I'd wait til I got home to come unglued, lest I undermine my progress at work. I even delayed illness until such times as I could afford it? Like over a long weekend or during vacations and holiday breaks.

I felt driven to succeed. I was a woman fighting the ol' boy network. At the time it was a rare thing for a woman to work in technology, but it was my niche. I was a natural, and that was a good thing, because I had to be better than the best man around in order to shatter the glass ceilings. I'm proud to say that I did just that.

It has occurred to me, since all the moving stuff, that I fell back on my skill in delay tactics. I am really worn out. I was worn out from nearly the beginning. I had too much to do and not enough money or time or energy to do it. But... I did it. I trudged on, often by sheer force of will. And now I am stuck on a seesaw of recovery. Most of every day I just want to collapse, be null and void, lay like broccoli. I tell myself it's unwarranted. It's all done. How could I be exhausted now? But the truth is, I didn't have the luxury of exhaustion from sometime in March until mid June.

So, I put off my collapse. Now I can have it. I'm probably dragging it out longer by taking it piece-meal, but I guess I really don't know how to shut down completely. Over the last couple of weeks I've forced long baths and frequent naps. I've made myself sit zombie-like in front of the TV even when there's nothing on. All that zoning has helped, but I still catch myself in weeping fits over nothing, and moments without the energy to move. I know this is all months of effort and stress working its way to the surface and out, but it's still rather annoying.

It's kind of like trying to catch up on sleep. It never really works, but I shall try. I have a new place to explore and a new house to shape into my own private sanctuary. I look forward to it... when I can keep my eyes open and clear. I do love this place. It has the feel of living in a woodsy vacation resort, full time. I am thankful.

There is a machine, a marvelous machine, whose hulk is unmistakable, but generally ignored. The quietly humming sentinel stands tall, unmoving, keeping safe many treasures, and sometimes science projects. It generally needs no tending, only filling and the occasional sorting or shuffling of items within. It makes no demands of its own. It is a giver of light, when asked. It is a giver of cold, without having to be reminded. In fact, it gives quite selflessly of everything in its possession, in exchange for a mere pittance of energy to simply do its protective work. It keeps out intruders, except for those possessing opposable thumbs and enough muscle power to gain entry. All in all, it is a marvel, yet woefully taken for granted.

Yes, our refrigerator was delivered today and I am thrilled to let the Coleman cooler return to its previously designated use. I may not even mind the next few grocery trips as I restock, and no longer have a daily quest for bags of ice. I shall also enjoy the ease of stuffing my glass into the door of the thing to get ice and/or ice water. Oh yes, refrigeration was one of our best inventions. I am thankful.

Well, others in my lil cluster of pals have chosen to list 100 things about themselves, so I will too. Here tis:
1) I appreciate Everything (eventually).
2-100) See #1

What did you expect? I'm an infernal optimist. Besides, I'm quicksilver (duh). Any more detail on such a list would be obsolete before I posted it.

Oh yes, I have failed to mention that I am here, in my new house, in my new woods. I am soaking in my hot tub at least once daily. My ass and I are exceedingly happy that there will be no more road trips back and forth.

OH and I have high-speed cable internet access! FINALLY. No more mini soul deaths while waiting for pages to load at 24.6Kbps

The old house is up for sale. If you're curious, it's MLS #43585. We'd like a purchaser yesterday and a closing tomorrow. Thank you. :)

I think maybe the Blogger server is in the Pacific Time Zone, but for me it's already Friday, June 11th. Today, I try to pack all my 'camping' gear and move-leftovers into my PT Cruiser and... drive home... to my new home.. one more time. I am ready for all the extra chores and long road trips to be done. I am ready to make my home in the Ark.

I am ready to soak in my new whirlpool tub til I'm the pruniest of prunes and my freckles bubble off. I am ready to sit out on my marvelous deck and stare into the woods in the evenings, listening to the sounds of summer. I'm ready to have a good stiff drink then drift off to sleep in the arms of my husband, lover, and friend, for many moons to come.

As my latenight pal Bill pointed out, this is the end of one chapter and start of a new one. It's time to turn the page.

June 9th is my birthday. Happy Birthday to Me ;) Ghost bought us a lottery ticket. If the universe is looking for gift ideas, 21 million would be a really nice present. I could do a lot of marvelous things for a lot of marvelous people with my half of that.

This moving thing is grinding down at last. I'll likely be camped out in this empty house til Friday afternoon, but it's nearly all ready for me to GO. Got the carpet steam-cleaned today. Ghost was here too and will be here again tomorrow to finish up remaining TO DOs. The realtor is coming Thursday afternoon. Ghost plans to be here briefly on Friday to send me on my way. I plan to fill the interim hours with rest. I could use some 'null and void' time. I feel like my mind has been awhirl for months, since Spouse first mentioned sending out his resume.

Ghost is still looking for actual employment. We want him to get to Ark as well. That can progress now that my business is off the agenda. I would not have waylaid him for the world, but the circumstances were there. It has been a fantastic opportunity for both of us. His spouse has been grateful for the cashflow to supplement unemployment.

It feels like the transition is fading into whatever phase comes next. I think I'm ready. I am certainly willing. As one of my favorite poems says, I lean upon the window sill of heaven and, with that picture in my mind and heart, turn strong to meet the day.

Just a little bit of recovery time, so I can catch up with myself, and then... I'm good to go.

LTNS. Last week was the actual move. Loaded up on Tues and hauled to Ark. Unloaded on Wednesday. Again I thank the Powers for Ghost. The U-Haul truck was a 5-speed diesel dinosaur. It could have been perilous for me to drive it. Even though I do know how to drive a stick, this was a different animal. I had also stayed up all night Monday night trying to get the last of the packing done. I was supposed to drive my car so I could stay over the weekend to setup the house for Spouse so we could get him out of that expensive apartment. I couldn't have stayed awake for the drive. I decided to do the safe thing and rent a transport for my car. So, the diesel dino had a tag-along. Fun to be on a road trip with Ghost, even if the vehicle was a 15 yr old rattle trap weighing a few tons.

I have come to think of the new place as my treehouse. The deck is marvelous. The view from all but the front windows is forest. The birds are plentiful and lyrical. I've already filled the hummingbird feeder and they've already found it. Sunday morning, Spouse and I caught sight of the brightest little bluebird either of us has ever seen. I'll take that as a good omen.

I had a visit from a wood thrush a couple of days earlier. It miscalculated and flew into one of the bedroom windows. Stunned, he sat on the deck for a while, long enough for me to approach. He let me close enough to pet him. He let me slip my fingers under his feet and perched in my hand a minute. I set him back down and eventually he hopped to the edge of the deck then flew. He and his mate have a nest under the deck, with eggs. They are very welcome neighbors.

Ghost got to stick around through Friday morning before returning himself and the truck to MO. It was rather surreal to have him around all that time. We did a few impromptu rituals. After all, Wednesday was a full moon. We remember asking the Ancient Ones for that opportunity shortly after we met. Our wish was granted in spades.

It was also rather surreal for Ghost and Spouse and I to sit and chat comfortably together in the house and for dinner out. I'll have to say the comfort level wasn't all that surprising to me because I know both of them very well. Spouse was at work or at the apartment most of the time. Ghost and I stayed at the house. It was all quite natural, though I think very few people in today's society would understand how. These two men got along just fine and of course I am glad for both, in different ways, for different reasons. How Gemini of me, eh?

Ghost and I noticed a rather dramatic natural arbor visible from the deck. It's a couple of large trees whose limbs arch over to each other. There must be 20 or so feet between their trunks, and easily 40-50 ft up to the peak of the arch. Oddly, though the forest is rather thick otherwise, there is a noticeable little clearing between these two trees. Ghost set a stone circle in the space, about 12 ft across. He placed 12 large stones aligned with cardinal points and positions in between. So now I have my own compass, my own little stonehenge, and a reminder of that magical week with Ghost. Spouse thinks it's clever, although he doesn't put much stock in any other significance for such things.

On June 3rd, Ghost and I saw the full moon seemingly perched just above the peak of the arbor. She was large and bright white. I will again take this as a good omen. It felt very much like a blessing.

The transition isn't quite done, but nearly. Even though the move has been stressful, and no matter what happens from now, I will always cherish the memories from last week.