Ok, this is long, and the code is still kinda screwed but I'm tired. Sorry about the hard to read parts.
Apparently Dad has the scoop on *which day* the rapture will happen. March 19th, 2012. The radio preachers are saying it, it must be true.
So I'm saying Ok, if you're still here on the 20th, I'll bet it's really the 25th, because March 25th is when the children of Israel crossed the Jordan into Canaan.
Then Scott chimes in and goes No, it'll be in September, because Yom Kippur is the only Jewish holiday left that hasn't been used yet in prophecy fulfillment.
Crack me up. Everybody get your bets in!
I decided long ago not to lie to myself. I'll face my sadness head on. I think sadness is like the wilderness, lost and forgotten, with no one to care for the land and the trees. The snow comes and the creek ices over and the birds go silent. And it goes on for a long time. Even if a springtime comes and slowly starts to melt some of the snow, it's still so lost and forgotten until something struggles to grow and take back over. I've been through several winters in my wilderness. Some day maybe it won't feel so desolate any more. Maybe I'll feel better and things will grow.
I was actually looking for deer pix. 2007 must've been a bust because I was so sick (per my flurry of Surveypalooza posts this morning).
When people think I 'sit around' on the computer 'all day' and don't get
any exercise, I say Ah, but you don't see the way my foot catches on the mouse
wire when I put my foot up on the little stool under the desk, and the mouse
catapults off the back of the slide out table, and I get on my hands and
knees to crawl under the desk, maneuver around the stool, reach for the right
wire if I can't find the mouse, and then twist around to put it back through the
back of the slide out table, then carefully back out and hit my head, and THEN
settle back down to sit here for another few minutes before I jump up to go do
something else. See? *Plenty* of exercise.
Hafta laugh, the advice to exercise was coming from people who had no idea what a horrible year I'd been through. Still looking for deer pix. This was the day before.
Scott pulled old flowers today, and turned the dirt over in the front bed
under my kitchen window. He came in and got me, and it was amazing. The
chipmunks had tunneled under and stashed acorns, hickory nuts, and CHICKEN
FEED. That bed was so packed that we filled a gallon bucket with their stuff
that we sifted out of the dirt, and some of the hen scratch was already trying
to sprout. So it's not a rat at all, it's definitely chipmunks, and they carted
everything out of Jaizzy's trough every single night quite a distance from her
pen out back to the front of the house. And who knows how much chicken feed is
stashed elsewhere in other hidey holes. We have found several places in the
woods and along the edge of the back yard where we suspect they're stashing
stuff. So Scott was finally convinced to get the pellet gun out, shot at 3
different chipmunks, nailed one of them. After that everything got real quiet
the rest of the day. I told him news was spreading fast- "Fred is dead, there's
a big monster stealing the food, and doom is upon us."
And this was the day after.
Another awesome hour out in my chicken chair. Went ahead and took my radio again, a bag of cheerios, bottle of water, spaced out on leaves falling like snow all around me. Jaizzy refused to come out when the kids went in, but she ate her little cantaloupe-tomato treat. She's starting the compulsion to huddle on her nest. I was thinking about why chickens would develop the need to huddle in the dark when they molt, and I came up with a few things. They sunburn incredibly easy, for one. I let her wander out last year and she got so sunburned in a couple of spots that she looked extra miserable. Another reason they might want to huddle on the nest is so the nest will fill up with soft, warm feathers. I noticed she was so uncomfortable sitting in the straw last year on her bare skin and the quills poking. So it's probably an instinct to keep the feathers around in one spot and just stay outa sight. I really don't think it has much to do with avoiding predators, because I've never lost a naked bird to a critter, they were always fully feathered. I think they are just so dang miserable and uncomfortable that they can hardly stand it, and it's easier to just nap through it as much as possible because they don't have any other relief. If you can imagine what it takes for their skin to release several thousand quills, and notice they don't rub or pick them out so it's not an itch that they try to find relief from. I think it's more like a nerve ending irritation, it just doesn't feel good or soothing to be touched at all.
One of the number of reasons I disappeared off the internet for awhile. Even when I completely stopped interacting I kept getting poked to respond.
This guy (another crazy Lexx fan) I blocked on email found a way to keep harassing me by dragging a mutual friend into it who is oblivious of what's going on to forward his emails, and then he created a new email address and emailed me again himself, so I had to diplomatically handle that one. Let them both know it's my last email to him, so if he keeps emailing, that's proof he's harassing me after I told him two months ago I'm done talking about it. I'm always the bad guy when someone commands me to respond on cue to their obsession with the show and the actors. From now on, I answer no more emails from fans, period.
I keep getting up to do things, windows open, fabulously beautiful outside. I'd call the day perfect except I keep seeing spiders floating around on silk kites. Staying inside... looking for deer pix...
Got such a nice letter back from the guy who was bugging me, he owned up and handled me being blunt on him so well, then explained he's a teacher who works with other teachers, a people person, and doesn't realize what he does that bothers others sometimes. He stated that so well that I let him in on me being autistic and even gave him a link to bluejacky, told him he seems to enjoy unique quirks in people and maybe my blog would help him understand some of us better, that it's not personal. He especially mentioned one teacher in particular who seemed like me, rather blunt and not very good with social skills, but he liked her and kept trying to be friendly. That's what made me decide to go ahead and share. I explained briefly the I'm not able to handle being 'friendly' very well for very long, and I withdraw not because I dislike people, but because I feel overwhelmed and can't take any more, and it's possible *- is like me and may not even realize it. I told him I'd never published a link to that personal blog on any of my Lexx fan sites, so the fan world I feel violated by sometimes (via persistent contact) probably wasn't aware it existed. So this guy is unwittingly and surprisingly helping me bridge my two worlds, the public and the private. I told him I realized this was my own personal problem, and that I was attempting to deal with it through the public blog. So who knows where I'll go from here. If word spreads through the Lexx fandom that I have another public blog out there, I might possibly be inundated with contact that I'll have to learn to deal with. I can politely ignore most of it, I'm sure. It's been difficult learning where to draw the line, learning how to handle different personalities coming through, learning how to handle and accept my own automatic reactions as being 'my stuff' and not provocation from others, even though it's difficult not to see it that way. Basically, I just have to learn not to internalize other people's personalities and keep it really plain and simple, not get drawn into their weird needy little fantasy worlds.
There we go, that was nice. But still not a deer pic. Hang on.
I wrote crip on the loose but it's public, so not posting that over. The funny vid of me & @bonenado in Hot Springs comes from that post.
Here we go, from 11-15-08. By the way, there's a dead deer pix way down there, so scroll slowly if you don't want to see them. When you get to the pic, hold your hand over the screen while you scroll past it, then you can read again.
@ 7 a.m.
No snow yet, but that blustery wind is pretty cold. Weatherbug says our wind chill is 26. Hope Scott is having a good time out there.
@ 10 a.m.
Scott came in around 9, stripped down so I could wash all his stuff again so he can go out again later. That's the nicest part of all this man stuff, I get a naked man to look at. Scott's got really nice legs from all the hill walking and ladder climbing and heavy stuff carrying he does. I think sometimes about all the people who spend money just to see naked people on their computers and think how lucky I am I've got a premium 3D animated view for free.
But the rest is so dumb, I can't help laughing at him. Every year that he goes out hunting, he's obsessed with masking his scent. We use special 'scent-away' laundry soap, he uses special soap in the shower, he goes out of his way to avoid onions and garlic and making love (although those are dismal failures some years, in which case I'm to blame for cooking and being in bed next to him if he doesn't get a deer), and he used to spend money on stuff like fox pee and buck bombs to mask his scent further. It gets pretty funny when he comes home smelling nasty because the bomb went off wrong or he dumped the fox pee all over his boots or whatnot. I like mimicking the deer- Gee, Bob, that poor fox must have a terrible incontinence problem, you can smell every step he took. Or, Wow, that fox had a lot of pee! And he came out of nowhere! Can't smell fox for miles till you get to this tree. And of course, after the buck bomb incident, I wouldn't leave Scott alone about the bucks tracking *him* down to get some.
So today he comes in all frustrated because it was HIS pee all over everything... He'd taken a jar to pee in so the deer wouldn't smell it, right? But boy, did he really have to go. The jar ran over, soaked his gloves, got on his pants and underwear, and it got so stupid that he just dumped the whole jar of pee and left it there and came home.
Imagine me laughing till tears are rolling. Yeah, this one tops them ~all~.
I have been telling him for years that if he'd just stop and pee on a tree here or there every time he goes out back there, the deer would be used to it and never even care. They come right through the yard, for crying out loud. Goodness knows how many weird smells we have around here between the roofing materials and working on the cars and whatever else. So I'm sure that when Scott walks around in his 'unscented' gear and weird masking smells, every deer for a mile is going What the crap is *that*? Deer probably eat wild onions and garlic all the time, maybe they'd like to come see what's up with someone's onion breath. All he has to do is act normal, and they'd think they were safe here.
When I sit out with the chickens and they make all their noise scratching in the leaves, squirrels and chipmunks and wild birds galore hang around. Rabbits let me walk within a foot of them, thinking I can't see them if they hold still, because I'm always around, and I never bother them. I go ahead and talk to the chickens, I do my stuff, and all the critters around here accept it as totally normal. I'm harmless. And I'm so safe that my chickens hang around my feet and come running when I call. Very noticeable.
So I think if Scott would just walk around the woods a little every weekend, peeing here or there, dropping an apple here or there, the deer would figure out real quick he's no big deal. One year he even had a fox practically eating out of his hand. So why not the deer? They come here all year, then avoid us like crazy when he changes the routine, and he still hasn't figured it out yet.
Wonder if the deer are out there right now going Dang, that guy smelled like pee... Can smell him for miles.
I told him if he could tie a string to Dooney, he could take her with him and she could scratch around in her hyper way and all the critters would think it was safe to come by him because *someone* was sure having a good unmolested time in the leaves.
Speaking of. Yesterday Dooney and Spencer looked like they'd been mud wrestling. I was like, What did you guys do, try to dust in the mud??? You're pigs!!! Their combs and faces were all muddy, their neck feathers looked like they'd half drowned, and Dooney, being white, came off looking filthy, just brown all over. Their run doesn't have any roofing over it like Jaizzy's does, so the pen gets pretty wet sometimes, but this time they looked like they just rolled in it. Silly girls. Guess they got bored sitting in the house all day waiting for it to stop. I'm sure that got mighty tasty when it came time to preen it all out.
@ 11 a.m.
I know, I just won't shut up, will I?
I was curious about when Scott got his last deer, found it in photobucket. This was from Nov. 17, '06. Nice, huh? Got some wonderful tenderloin steaks and breakfast sausage out of that one.
@ 7:30 a.m.
Poor Scott. I don't know what it is about early mornings, but once I start giggling about stuff I just can't stop. There's something about the whole Mighty Hunter thing that seems so cartoony to me.
Dang, *just* heard a gunshot. Hope that was him.
Anyway, last night he came dragging in a good 45 minutes after sundown, soaked in sweat, completely dehydrated because he hadn't taken enough water (I'm not clear whether he took any at all) and hadn't eaten anything since lunch (which wasn't much), so I threw his gear in the wash again and fed him up, and he started having these crazy charley horses up the insides of his thighs, hopping around and hobbling and moaning. Made him take a muscle relaxer, practically forced more water down him.
He makes all these big plans and then doesn't execute them. He has left the apples in a bag on top of the chicken pen for two days now, so they are frozen solid. Why there? No clue. He's Scott. He lost his bag of persimmons, he says he last had them in the basement. How do you lose a bag of persimmons in the basement? I'm surprised he hasn't lost his cell phone in the woods yet. He hasn't eaten ANY of his preplanned snacks, didn't take turkey sandwiches like he planned, didn't take water because he thought it would make him need to pee, then drags in hours and hours later saying he's getting old and can't imagine pulling a dead deer clear over from conservation land. ?? He went *that far* without provisions? What a nut. I'm pretty sure that's 5 miles one way.
He KNOWS better. He PLANS for better. But when it comes down to the wire, he'll tromp out without any breakfast at all, no snacks on him, not even a cup of coffee because it might make him need to pee, and I can't figure out what's in his head that makes him think his will alone is enough to handle hours of heavy exercise in very cold weather with no calories or fluids. That's how people his age wind up having heart attacks. And I'd call the major charley horses last night a good sign he was depleted of some major mineral ions. And then he didn't text me all day like he said he would, didn't respond to my texting or even an outright phone call, and I did everything I could to keep from pacing the floor until he got home last night because he didn't bother giving me a walk route before he left. No one would have known where to find him at all if he hadn't come home. He took the Tom-Tom and found out he was only 140 feet from someone's house (can't see through the thick woods), and THAT is where he saw a deer and decided not to shoot because of that house. Then he goes "I figured they might not have wanted me shooting deer on their property", and I'm like Um, like *you* don't like others shooting deer on *your* property? Why were you there in the first place? And then after that is when I found out he'd have had to drag the deer back several *miles*... By the time you drag a carcass up and down really rugged rocky ridges, I'd say the meat would be pretty banged up.
So I'm a nervous wreck, and I wake up and harass him with everything that sets me off giggling, but at least I made him eat breakfast before he left this morning. He was so worried he wouldn't make it to his 'spot' before it got light, but he did (he texted me this time).
If I were a guy, and if I were his hunting buddy, I'd be the one with the backpack and camera, peeing wherever I want, enjoying just hanging out, and I'd probably get the deer. He'd hate my guts.
My cheese ball turned out really funky, great breath maker. Mmmm! Ran some down to Gram. Wisconsin natives appreciate funky food.
Scott said he saw a big ol' bobcat walking around. It didn't even care if he was around. He also saw 4 deer a little over 100 yards away. He said the biggest doe stood up on her hind feet to smell the air, then turned the group and they sauntered off the wrong direction. He doesn't think they knew he was there, they never got spooked. He was pretty weary coming up the hill, but has now revived with a couple cups of water and some funky cheese ball and a bunch of crackers, so he's digging around in the tool shed now, gonna work on the yard and stuff. Said something about hooking up a heater to his little propane tank to warm up the lawn mowers, and I told him to wait till I get in the house before he blows up because the gas odors in there were pretty strong. So he started moving gas cans out, guess he's serious. If I hear a big boom I'll know why.
Took some benadryl, may be spending football zonked on the couch.
Two days later...
Btw, the bag of apples is still sitting on top of my chicken pen. Wonder if the persimmons are rotting somewhere in the basement.
Quick jaunt into madness.
@ 6 a.m.
Where to start this time.
Dad called last night with questions about EMP technology and threats to the United States (yes, I know, how much weirder can my family and my personal life get), has decided at 78 and no education beyond his 8th grade diploma (back then that was considered a full education) that he needs to learn physics... So he's telling me what he knows about atoms being made of protons, electrons, and neutrons, and I'm like Ok, miles ahead of you, you wanna know exactly how an electromagnetic pulse works and the damage it will do. Because he can't understand how an EMP won't simply destroy the world by tearing all the atoms in the world apart.
So I googled and grabbed these pages real quick-
Read pertinent parts of the report in the second link to him, took a little time getting him to understand what he's talking about because Lord knows who all he is trying to tell that an EMP is going to destroy the world. It's basically just someone unplugging anything electronic and everything grinds to a halt, and I tried to tell the guy this whole idea has been around with the public for so long through scifi and even 24 uses it to black out 6 city blocks in one season, which crashed a helicopter and blacked on all communications as well, so yes, the public is semi-aware this is possible, BUT. Trying to convince the guy (who has no access to satellite or a computer or anything beyond 1950's style tv) that our military, government, and scientists have been working on EMP shielding technology for decades (solar flares caused the eastern seaboard to black out one year) because they KNOW that yes, planes will crash, trains will stop, traffic will grind to a halt, all communication and media will be disrupted- is like trying to tell a mouse that yes, we know about the cats...
What he doesn't get is that even a lightning strike is an EMP, yes, we've known about this stuff for many years. Just because he's finally paying attention doesn't mean he's got the goods on something significant. But he believes THIS is how the tribulation is going to begin (so many Christian fiction writers have already beat him to this, the guy is unbelievably deep in his cave), we have to warn everybody. Um, right, Dad. I've actually been telling everyone for decades that chaos and panic are inevitably coming, don't fall for the classic flock of sheep bolting off a cliff mentality, but Dad shrugs my way of thinking off because he's *determined* this really will be the end of everything.
So now that Obama is president, my dad and I are discussing deep physics, and dang if I'm not the only one in the ENTIRE family who actually cared about all this stuff 20 years ago and have been studying physics all along when everyone else thought I was weird and silly. No one EVER sat and talked *any* of this with me when I fell in love with it and thought it was cool. Now he and my brother are discussing EMP threats like a couple of rednecks, and I'm gritting my teeth and staying cool, determined to discuss this scientifically, logically, and share it in a way that is so efficient and concise that my brilliance holds up to the 'big guys' in the field. If I can teach my ~dad~ physics over the phone, and discuss the political implications, I can do anything I put my mind to.
Here we go, finally! Geez, took forever to find this. After the pix scroll by there are more words unrelated to deer.
Scott said later after he shot this deer, it ran right to him and dropped. I didn't tell him I prayed this morning for a deer to run right to him so we'd be done with deer season and he'd feel happy about it this year. It happened pretty quickly after my prayer, I was so surprised to get a text saying he'd gotten an 8 point buck, I didn't even believe it at first, thought he was pulling my leg. This pic was from his cell phone.
After he texted that it took over an hour to even make contact again, and it was so garbled and he sounded so wiped out that I couldn't tell if he was in trouble. After another half hour I went outside (weather was nice enough to just wear a jacket and hood), got a walking stick, let my girls out, and slowly descended the rocky hill into the woods.
Very treacherous footing, and I didn't know if I'd fatigue out and not make it back up, but the hens all hovered close around me, thrilled to dive into the deep piles of leaves and talk to me about it.
Finally saw our Scott coming, a little dot of orange off in the tangled distance. This is on zoom. Took a long time for Scott to make it to me. I had a bottle of juice waiting for him, and he peeled some layers off and took a big break. The chickens hung out with him, had to check him out in his crazy deer gear, too bad I didn't get pix because it was so cute.
Had left the deer just beneath the ridge, so after we all made it back up the hill and he drank a little more, he went down with the cart, got it up to just below his dad's lower yard, then we took the pickup back in there and loaded it up
This one had the prettiest face we've seen on a deer, and a little petite for an 8-point.
Scott's step dad, next door. Army vet, 10 year lung cancer survivor (removed part of a lung), tough as nails, still sawing wood in his 70's. He was pretty excited, but not in good enough shape to go walk the woods and get his own deer any more.
Then we drove it to Ozark Mountain Meats (http://www.flavoroflife.com/). The $80 processing fee is pretty standard around here, and I told them I want one hind roast and one cut into round steaks, one full tenderloin roast and the other cut into butterfly steaks, and everything else ground into breakfast sausage. I didn't bother asking for burger. I got so burned out on deer burger last time. The breakfast sausage has an additional $1.35 per pound fee, but it's about the best I've ever eaten, so I think it's worth it.
So now I've gotta take everything out of my little freezer and repack it all so the deer meat will fit in.
This is a moment I still cherish-
Watched the new South Park last night (dvr'd it) and lost it so bad when Butters thought he was a real vampire and was sucking on Cartman's neck that I had to stop the show and go wheeze and cough in the kitchen while I tried to stop laughing, crying so hard I couldn't see a thing. Scott and I go around hissing at each other now like Butters.
Anything else in Novemeber 2008? Stuff still going on in the world of international Lexx fan politics, got lights put up, talked about food... Oh, here's a good one. I was still going through some major nerve fail and brain glitching, for awhile I was unable to count coins.
Had a stupid experience with the bank. Walked in with all my change separated into baggies, had my Strong Bad t-shirt on. Older lady dressed and coifed like top of the line Dillard's looked me up and down with disgust and let me know they don't *do* ~that~. Teller next to her agreed, even though she had given me cash for change about a week or so ago (don't ya hate it when a worker wimps out and lies about something because they are afraid of a coworker?). Neither one asked if I had an account there (the other teller knew I did), and before I could explain I needed help because 1- I didn't have exact rolls, and 2- I have difficulty even holding change with my nervous system problem, the older one told me to leave the counter, she didn't have time for me. I left and called the bank manager, had her look up my 15 year history and the fact that we've been approved for a loan that we're waiting to pick up, and asked her if I had wanted to deposit that money, would they have had to count it for me? Got a yes. Told her I felt treated badly like I had come from a ditch with pop can money, and I was driving to a different bank because I didn't want to do business with her ladies any more. Got a bunch of apologies and the assurance that teller would be spoken to.
Drove 12 miles to my own bank, walked in just before closing, got help counting the coins out with no questions asked, and halfway through I thanked the teller profusely for taking care of me and being so wonderful because 1- another bank refused to do it, and 2- I have difficulty holding change because of the nervous system disorder. They could not *believe* how I was treated. When I left, I called that bank manager and told her how much I appreciated that teller, and happened to mention my mom worked for one of their branches since forever ago, and dang if I don't carry a whole lotta clout just for being her daughter. When that manager found out that a couple of high ranking loan officers/managers in other towns know me by name (and she very well knew my mom's name), I was *family*, and I could tell she was going to gossip to all the other managers about L-'s daughter practically being kicked out of this other bank. Nice campfire story to go around the region. We used to do that in retail, too, tell stories about the other stores. I didn't intend it, but thought it was a funny way to get my stab back at the first bank. If they'd only known, I might have been treated very well, but Scott couldn't believe I was talked to like that, either. I'm nearly 50 years old, I have a crippling illness, I have an established history, and they treated me like some loser off the street because of the t-shirt I was wearing and the fact that I was carrying coins in sandwich bags.
I learned long ago on my jobs never to assume anything about customers. I've met millionaires in junky clothes, hobnobbed with people related to my boss, taken care of people I had no idea could crush me like a little mosquito. But I've been through it all, been on both sides, and I was so good that I was put in the Christmas return line for years to handle irritable customers, because most of their stuff didn't bother *me*. I don't take stuff personally ~unless~ I'm in a lot of pain myself, and if I can trank up on pain pills, I'm good to go. I *know* life is hard and it sux, and in spite of the way I've been treated on my jobs, I understand that the people in front of me have headaches, may have lost loved ones, might be dealing with cancer or divorce, you *don't* *know*. I don't normally call and complain on anyone who gives me bad service because I understand we all have stupid days, but there was no call for that lady treating me like I was dog poop she didn't want to step in. In this golden age of American mainstream Christianity, there is no way I will tolerate a 'nice' lady treating me badly when it's her ~job~ to take care of me.
I don't go around saying this very much, but I really have met some interesting people. I remember years ago there was a guy who handed me a notebook full of CD copies of original computer code he'd written just for being nice and talking to him at a hotel desk. Guess what- that was the guy who wrote all the code for remote home control, you know, like not even being in your house and being able to send commands from your phone to turn things on and off, and not just electronics. He explained to me way back then that he could even tell his bathtub to start filling up. Everything in his house was wired for remote command. We take it for granted now. Same hotel, met another guy who turns out is a millionaire who sells top of the line hand crafted horse gear internationally. He offered me a job, I turned it down. I could have flown all over the world. I've been offered several cool jobs and opportunities, but I never told anyone why I never took them. No one ever knew I was faking being ok.
Sometimes I wish I could go back and write down all the stuff I've been so lucky to know, or the people I've met. I was barely holding it together back then, faking being able to work while cobbling a fansite together in my spare time. No one ever knew the amount of pain I was in or the level of brain fail I'd been through. Now I'm home all the time, still recovering and getting better, meeting awesome people on the internet. I know everyone's depressed about stuff they can't control, but it helps a lot to focus back on our own lives in the here and now and see all the things we've done and still want to do.
Scott is planning on going out after a deer tomorrow. If nothing else is going on with my morning, maybe I'll look for deer pix from other years.
One more thing from November in 2008.
Got hold of --- in Russia last night and told her I'm giving her the rest of my Lexx stuff, except the actual shows. Get the stuff out of the States where the fans and one of the actors are at each others' throats about copyright, yet still illegally selling licensed product, get it into a country where no one can touch it and the fans can start freely sharing without all the nonsense and fighting. Of course, they fight over there, too, but they have no access to the stuff we do here. They literally have to beg fans online to send them autographed pieces of paper from conventions, and I was the only one who took care of the Russian fans and made sure they got some stuff, and for free at that. I've decided, since I am purging my life and putting a stop to all my stresses, that my Lexx stuff must go, too. I can't make a move here in the States without making some really big enemies, so it's going to Russia and they are going to execute the plan to free Lexx to the world.
That sounds more dramatic than it actually was. None of us foresaw Brazil running with it... lol.
I really need to walk away from this now. I'm kind of in a spacey place.