I need advice, please.

I'll try to not make this too long-winded, but I think detail may be necessary and that means long-winded.  Back when Tom and I split up, Jake, the cats and I left our house for the one we live in now.  The house we were in was supposed to be sold and all profits split up between us and Tom was court-ordered to maintain that house until that time, even though I bought this place far earlier.  He did not and the house went into foreclosure. That didn't stop Tom, his girlfriend (now-wife), Crackwhore Michelle (no, really, she is), from moving back into it, nor did it stop him from having his brother, Tim, move in with them.  Various and assorted other people also lived in that house in that time frame, resulting in the the house becoming the local crack house.  All of them are/were/whatever crackheads at that point in time and who knew crack houses could exist in really, really nice neighborhoods?  Trust me, they do, and it's humiliating to even admit that, so very embarrassing, but it's part of my history and it plays a part in this problem. So, the lot of them had over a years notice of the auction date, but they didn't leave or get their stuff out.  The house was auctioned and they were given 30 days to leave.  Because I'm nosy, I was keeping an eye on things and they left with one day to spare...one freaking day. You'd think this is done and over, no?  No.  A few days later I got a call from the man who bought the house in the auction,  irate, and blaming *me.  It seems he had no clue, being an out of state buyer, that the house was a crack house and that the interior was destroyed. He found me (the crack heads were untraceable by then) and decided to dump his world of ire on my shoulders.  Yeah, not so much.  Once I got him calmed down enough to let me talk, I 'splained I'd not lived in that house for well over a year, told him who *had, and said that since he's made such nasty accusations against me ("What kind of filthy trash *are you?" and other ore colorful variations), I'd like to drive out, meet him and bring him pictures of the interior of the house on the day I left.  Luckily, my attorney had instructed me to take pictures of every room with that days' newspaper in the picture, save the paper, and document I turned my house keys over to a deputy.  I took everything with me and  went to meet ol', mad Bob.  When I pulled into the yard, I saw masses and masses of...well...garbage.  It filled the huge front porch to the ceiling and overflowed out into the front yard and driveway.  Bob and I, once he saw the pictures of how I left the place (trust me, *anyone could have moved right into that house, it was so spotless and nice) got along just fine and he asked me if I wanted to pick through the garbage to see if there was anything important to me or my son.  Gah, now *there's a charming offer, and I'm getting to my dilemma,  I swear, so hang with me.  Anyway, he gave me three days and I spent all of them out there, sorting through the nastiest shit you could imagine but I stuck at it.  Why?  Because I'm a sentimental person and the very first bag I looked in, mixed in with maggot-y kitchen garbage, I found the silver baby spoon and fork that's a family heirlooom on Tom's side and was passed to us for Jake.  In another bag, I found Tom's and Tim's graduation pictures.  In a box of filth I won't even share the details of, I found Tom's trophies.  So, I went back and dug and dug and dug some more, cleaning and salvaging anything I could.  In the end, I filled two huge Rubbermaid boxes with things of Tom's and Tim's that could be saved...diplomas, degrees, family pictures taken in the early 1900's, childhood scrapbooks, photo albums, memorabilia from the deaths and funerals of various grandparents, books with special meaning, school year books,  and the thing that made me most sad, all the cards Jake ever gave Tom. You know, the ones where they can't really write, so you hold their hands and guide them on a card they made themselves?  Yeah, all of those.  Anyway,  my plan was to clean everything up and when Jake's great grandmother came to see him, I'd give them all to her since all of the old photos, silver and some other things were hers to begin with.  I had no reason to give it back to Tom or Tim, since they obviously didn't give a shit about any of it.  Well, in the end, Jake's great grandmother apparently never gave a shit about *him, since she never came to visit.  Ten years later, here I am with these bins still in my house, a constant reminder of all the pain the time brought and I want rid of them.  For the record, Jake has no interest in any of it since he's come to see these people for what they are.  When I first got the stuff, I did give him his dad's trophies and framed a few pictures of his dad as a young boy for his room and he still has those but says I can do whatever with them, too. Here's where I need some advice and am asking what y'all would do with all this stuff?  I'm most inclined to ship them jointly to Jake's great grandmother, mother and sister anyway (mother and sister are mean bitches of the highest caliber), along with a letter laying a lot of things out there that they they don't know because they refused to hear it...basically, unburdening my heart *and my floorspace in one fell swoop, finishing it all up with one big "fuck the whole, big, dysfunctional lot of you", only phrased more mannerly than that.  As much as I hate them all, and I do because they fought hard to take Jake completely away from me, I feel like this stuff needs to be back in their family. But part of me also wonders why.  I mean, if they didn't give a damn about Jake, why bother?  And I've got some family telling me to dump the stuff, let it go and don't worry over it.  A few say to send it back but with my letter, so my burdens are all dumped back on them, and some are saying to let them know I have it and the first one down this way can pick it up. Trouble is, that'll be Tom and really, I'm mean enough to want to everyone to see what he and Tim abandoned. At the same time, I realize they aren't going to give a rat's ass about anything I have to say and, in reality, are going to be pissed at me for holding on to all this stuff instead of giving it to Tom or letting them know I have it.  Ugh. No matter what I do, it's only going to reinforce what a bitch I am in their eyes.

So, knowing the whole, drawn-out story, what would y'all do with this stuff?

Beatrice and her cloak of invisibility.

Today, Beatrice had a follow up. It's official, she definitely has herpes. In her eye. *sighs*  They say she was probably born with it.  Look at my poor, sweet baby...I dare you to not fall in love.

She has to wear her blankie every time we go and, in fact, wears it at home when she gets scared or is very tired. How sweet is she, though?  She just sits in her carrier the whole time, positive no one can see her.  :-)  She did perk up once, though...she heard plastic rustling and being opened.  She just knew she was getting a treat, since that's what the treat bag sounds like.

Sadly for Beatrice, it was actually the sound of a rectal thermometer being prepared.  I suppose some may find that to be a treat, but Bea does not.  At least she's off all but one drop, three times a day, but forever and ever, amen, I have to add some stuff to *all their food to help prevent spread and future outbreaks in Beatrice. I'm also to keep her non-stressed, since stress causes outbreaks...this for the nervous girl who wears a cloak of invisibility.  Ah, well, at least she didn't have cancer, although she would have rocked the one-eyed pirate look in her pirate ship.  Arrrrr!

I don't wanna talk about the Casey Anthony trial right now.  Bastards.

Doings around here.

Well, didn't I just disappear?  I wish I had excuses like an exotic vacation or  moving to a fancy, new home but alas...mostly it's been due to my complete obsession to the Casey Anthony trial.  And I don't use the term "obsession" lightly...I'm probably an expert on all this stuff now.  My obsession started the first night the news reported Caylee missing (this is all going on the next county over from me) and hasn't let up since. The funny thing is how this whole area is obsessed...any medical office you go into, the trial is on.  Traffic is noticeably lighter while it's on. People are discussing it in great detail in checkout lines and running errands during lunch recess.  Most of us say we're on jury duty, lol, since we are there for everything the jury is and we deliberate amongst ourselves.  The moment recess is called, friends and neighbors begin calling and texting to discuss what just happened.  I've had 2 neighbors tell me church was near empty today (well, yesterday), since Belvin had court in session on a Sunday. I just don't know what I'm going to do with  myself when this is over, y'all.  Sleep in some?  Mop, finally?  Watch People's Court again?

But, I have had other things going on.  A couple of weeks ago, we noticed Beatrice, The Casserole Cat's eye looked funky, like it had a murky, clumpy film on it.  She's not a cat that looks you in the eye often (she's a shifty thing) and we keep the house very dark inside day and night, so it could have been that way for awhile.  I took her to the vet, only to find out her eye was ulcerated.  I felt awful.  :-(  See her poor eye?  It's her left one, the one to your right.

The vet gave me several possibilities, from injury to herpes to toxoplasmosis to cancer.  A week on antibiotics held it at bay but it was no better so now we're trying 2 weeks on antibiotics and an anti-viral drop. The assumption (hope? prayer?) now is that it's herpes or toxoplasmosis and considering I keep her litterbox *very clean, the vet leans to herpes, carried in from outside on hour shoes or hands.  Seriously?  Only in our family...only in quirky-assed Beatrice...could eye herpes come about.  The anti-viral drops are working, proving this theory to be correct, though, since her eye looks some better.  Jeeez, eye herpes in a cat.  Between this and me having had cat scratch fever  (no, really, I did in my early 20's and with every ridiculous complication possible),  Beatrice and I have about covered all the possible STD-y sounding things that can happen between cats and humans. You want to talk fun, though?  Try putting all this in a cat's eye and mouth daily:

2 doses of oral antibiotics, 3 doses of antibiotic ointment, 2 doses of anti-viral drops and 4 doses of Systane a day, none of which can be done together in one burrito-wrap of Bea.  We spend all day burrito-wrapping and dosing, it seems like.  I'm not bitching, though, *really...hell, I'm just grateful I didn't have to burrito wrap Miss Arse during her disturbingly similar ordeal.  Let's see...what else?  Well, I flooded.  Well, not *me; that's not happened in years.  Anyway, it didn't get in the house, so that's good and just ignore that semi-painted door and messy back patio. For the record, a few minutes after this was taken, that stray umbrella stand was in water.  Ooooh, let's play "Find The Item"...can you find the shovel still in the ground?   If you can, your prize is knowing that's where we buried Gina and forgot to put the shovel away.  *twitch*

 

I made a 5 minute craft project.  Jake was going to go to a Southern Pride festival and needed a hair bow.  Whaaaaat?  That strikes you as weird?  ;-)  I sacrificed a small Rebel flag for the event, cut the side off panel off where the stick goes in and tied it into a bow, then sewed a hair clip the the underside.  Not too bad for a fast project, I thought.  See? 

 

He wound up not going to the festival but wore it to Walmart the next day to shop for jeans...with a Tennessee t-shirt cut up and a lycra tank underneath, a la Flashdance, Dixie-style. Have I ever mentioned how much I adore my son?  Because I do. I guess the only other excitement is that anti-social me had a drop-in dinner guest and it was fun.  She's an old friend from high school (hi, Tracey!) and didn't even know I lived here. She was driving by just to get away from family she was visiting the next street over, recognized me as she drove by and stopped to say hi.  I was in a social mood, invited her in and shared dinner that was already planned with her.  I did use my pretty fish plates, since she was company...see?

Tracey was a little disturbed to discover it was a seafood mix that contained squid and octopus along with shrimp, mussels and clams, but she was a good sport and insisted on trying it.  I made a coconut and saffron basmati rice with scallions to go with it and she wound up loving it all!  We had fun playing with the parts...

...I see a tentacle!  By the way, I told her I had a sweet red wine to go with dinner, even though red wine doesn't go with seafood.  She asked what kind of red wine it was.  I repeated, it's *sweet and showed her. 

Once she stopped laughing, she had to admit it's really an amazingly decent wine for under $3 a bottle. We went through two bottles.  *nods*  It was an unexpectedly lovely few hours and I hope we can repeat it next summer. :-)  And lastly, as if anyone needs more proof that my son is allllll mine, we went to Blockbuster to rent a couple of movies.  We each picked one, he handed me his as I checked out and I didn't even look at it.  Once in the car, we examined the other's choice and this is what we each picked, his to the left and mine to the right:

How telling.  :-D

PS:  It's 4am and Blogger is being a pain my ass, not letting things space correctly between pictures and text.  I give up and am going to bed.  Just know I tried.

Foodnotbombs.net

It's after 4am, I was awake, Jake is here, but my phone rang and I nearly had a heart attack.  I saw it was my mom...heart attack number 2.  Is she sick or hurt?  No. She's upset as hell about this and can't sleep:  http://www.wftv.com/news/28144821/detail.html  She wanted to know if we could find out if we could volunteer with Food Not Bombs and, if so, go help.  Really?  My hard-ass conservative mom?  I mentioned we might get arrested and she was fine with that, said it would feel good to take a real stand and at least people get fed in jail.  I'll be damned. But, I'm with her...I can handle a criminal record for this.  "Why were you arrested?"  "Oh, I fed some homeless people even though it was against the law."  Yeah, fuck *that, bring it on.  So, I'm going to find out if they can use us and if so, we might wind up on the news, lol.  For real, though, I love my mom for this...this story has been weighing on me, too.  It should never, *ever be illegal to feed people who are hungry.

I get why people don't like large groups of homeless people gathering up.  They smell bad, pick-pocketing is rampant, drug sales occur, other crimes can take place...they panhandle, they accost, they can be scary.  I get it, really.  But in the end, they are still people, human beings, and they are hungry. Who in the hell has the right, and who *gave them the right, to tell me or anyone else we can't give something as basic as *food to hungry people, regardless of their numbers, circumstances or location?  Food, and forgive my liberal-ass self for suddenly emerging here, is a human right to have as long as someone is capable of voluntarily giving it.  To arrest people for providing food to hungry people because they want to and can?  Boggles my mind.  It really does.  How shameful in America.  It is, it's just shameful.

If you want more info, please go and help if you can. Lord knows I have no trouble asking people for money to help others, lol, so if you can, even a dollar helps.  See?  http://www.foodnotbombs.net/dollar_for_peace.html

*grumbles*
Arresting people for feeding the hungry, my ass.  I don't think our founding fathers *or God would like that, do you?

A tale of pee and genetics.

Brace yourselves, I'm going to talk about my pee. Yesterday, I noticed it was somewhat dark, a telltale sign I'm not drinking enough.  Um, stuff like water, anyway.  :-D  So, I set to work drinking tons of water, tea, chemically diet soft drinks (note that I refrained from saying "cokes", lower case, and then specifying the cokes were Dr. Pepper and nasty Sierra Mist), and juice.  Today, my pee was normal again *cues canned applause* and all was well. Only when I went to pee a bit ago, it smelled funny.  Smoky, like BBQ pork.  Um, that can't be good right?  I'm a little freaked out and come in here to Google "my pee smells smoky" and came to the conclusion I either have low DHEA levels or am diabetic.  Google it, you'll see. Terrific, now I'm scared.  I decide to ignore it and distract myself so I go out to check my mail and am bowled over by the smell of smoke and as I step out into the open, ash is falling.  Fires?  I go back inside and check the bathroom...sure enough, the window is cracked open.  Dammit, Jake!  But it's still a good PSA...if your pee smells smoky, like bacon or ham, it's not a good thing. File that away and remember I might have just saved your life and I didn't take pictures. You're welcome.

Pee aside, tonight I was looking through some old pictures and found some cute ones of my grandmothers and one even included my mom.  Want to see?  Thought so.

This is Mamaw.  She didn't really have a crease across her face in real life but she really did have the gold tooth. It's okay, my dad had two.  Someday, I aim to have a grill. *nods*  Anyway, she was Cherokee and Lumbee and could do cool things like heal people up with herbs, beat Papaw up when he got drunk, deliver babies, skirt the law and ride horses.  She was mouthy, feisty and loved wrestling on TV.  She was also fiercely independent but a caregiver and a wonderful friend, mother, mother-in-law and mamaw.  She lived with us for a few years and we alternately wouldn't speak to one another and then turn full of secrets together.  Her hair was down to her butt and it was a daily event, brushing, braiding and then pinning it up.  I used to love to brush her hair while she told me stories about our family and sang to me. I know now she told me things she hadn't told anyone else. She died when she was up in her 90's, when I was in my 20's.  I miss her every day, still.

This is my Mammy, with Mamaw.  

Mammy had the distinction of giving me white blood, lol, since she was half white and looked to be about 300% so.  While Mamaw was an "other side of the tracks" kinda girl, Mammy was a "has a housekeeper" kind of lady, yet the two became fast and forever best friends. They'd travel together with my parents, sharing a room and giggling like teenagers...they were avid practical jokers, my dad generally being the butt of their jokes. Together, they were dangerous and man, did they like being together.  And having adventures.

Like trespassing in someone's cotton fields.  From Mammy, I get my farm wife's bosom, my defiant smirk, my lack of shame and my willingness to wear knee-hi stockings with dresses.  Oh, yes, I have done so.  In later years, she developed an affinity for Hawaiian print muumuus and dye-to-match orthopedic shoes, coupled with funky glasses and lots of jewelry.  Anyone who knows me in real life is laughing right now and nodding.  From her, I got tacky.  She would totally have talked about her pee, too. She died fairly young, in her late sixties, after years of complications from being diabetic.  She lost a leg and half a foot to it in the years before she died and she taught her grandkids all we know about alternative uses for prosthetic limbs and how to fall out of a wheelchair and not even be able to call for help for the laughter.  She taught us all how to make fun of people, too. I learned a lot from her and so miss her, too.

My dad was the amazing photographer behind most family pictures I have.  He took this one of Mamaw, Mammy and my mom, which I have framed and in my living room.  :-)  And who do you think was behind my now-famous (at least in my own mind) little walker icon, after shoving red sunglasses on my face and a red pacifier in me?

Yes, indeed, he's the guilty party.  It's okay, though...I'd wear them both again to have him back.  I miss my family tonight. Think it would be weird if I went to Mom's and let myself in, then crawled in bed with her?  I guess it would be, huh?  I'll just wake her up early and tell her about my pee event.  She'll laugh, apologize for not having her teeth in, and the world will be good again.  :-)

G'night, y'all.

Trial watching - Casey Anthony.

Foreword:

I'm obsessed with this case...I have been since the outset and I have no shame in it.  I was obesessed with the OJ trial, but not so much the case itself.  For the record, I think he was guilty as hell, but had I been on the jury, I'd have been forced to find him not guilty, as well.  Next was the Jon-Benet Ramsey case.  One of my first real experiences on the internet was joining my aunt and cousins, along with my mom, on a mIRC chat called Cybersleuths, which was heavily devoted to the Jon-Benet Ramsey case. So, yeah, me and mysterious criminal cases?  Love 'em.  This case has the best of it all, plus it occurred relatively close to me, so even our local media is full of coverage.  That being the case, I'm hoping at least a few of you are also watching the trial and up for discussing it with me, sometimes maybe daily, other times, maybe not.  I'll try it for a day or so and see how it goes, see if anyone else wants to talk about it and exchange theories and thoughts.  That all said...

DID YOU SEE IT TODAY?   Damn.  I was expecting the pool story, the rumor has been floating around, pardon my pun, for awhile now and the rumor/hints of sexual abuse have, too.  But somehow, hearing it said out loud in a courtroom was surreal and shocking. As I've processed it all, I have to admit Jose Baez put on a good opening statement. I went into this with a fairly open mind, believing that Casey definitely was involved in Caylee's death, but that it could well have been an accident. Today, I still think this. I don't believe she committed first degree murder; I still believe it was a bad, bad negligent accident and she handled the aftermath beyond poorly.

Do I believe George molested Casey?  No, I really don't, although my mind is open to being proven wrong on that.  I do think Casey's brother, Lee, may back her story up...I think he loves his sister enough to sell George under the bus in order to try to protect Casey, particularly since it's not like George faces any criminal charges.  Let's see...the loss of Dad's dignity and reputation versus the loss of Sister's life?  Yeah, I think Lee is going to back the defense's story up and try to save his sister.  And actually, I'm not sure George and Cindy won't do the same, albeit in a more subtle manner.  Wouldn't many parents sacrifice their reputation for their child who they genuinely feel is innocent of anything but negligence and mishandling in their grandchild's death, but who is facing death by lethal injection unless something is done to save her?  I would, for Jake, if I truly believed him.

As for Roy Kronk, I think he's basically an asshole, but I think the defense looked plainly ridiculous in trying to incriminate him in anything much.  Roy's girlfriend was a jail employee who came into contact with inmates  when Casey was first jailed.  That's the only coincidence I have much faith in.  I suspect she heard Casey tell someone, possibly Baez, where Caylee's body was, then, knowing boyfriend Roy was a meter reader who walked that area and that he was in arrears in child support, rushed home saying, "Roy, guess what I heard?   I know how you might be able to get money!"  The shortest distance between two points is always a single line and in this situation, Roy's girlfriend seems to me to be the shortest line.

So...do I have any fellow watchers?  If so, please join in and let's discuss the crap out of it!

Goodbye, Gina Marie.

You were part of our family for nearly 19 years, but today, it was time for you to leave us.

I remember the first day we brought you and your sister home...I'd only wanted one kitten and insisted she be a calico.  I finally found your sister at the SPCA and she was so darn attached to you, that I couldn't split the two of you up.  They warned me you were sickly and might not live long...they didn't even charge for you.  You looked kind of rough, but you came home with us, too.

It took 2 weeks to get your eye cleared up and opened and another 6 weeks to get you over a bad intestinal infection. That was such fun for us all...only not. But your sister loved you and obviously, so did your new daddy.  This is how the 3 of you slept all night, that first night. I was glad your sister was happy.

As time passed, we realized you were going to live and that whole free cat thing?  Yeah, not so much, nearly $1000 in vet bills later. But it was okay...you were part of the family by then, and your sister loved you.

Although I was always your favorite person, you would worry when Jake was sick and stick right by him until he was better.  Then you'd resume your attempts to smother me in my sleep so I could be yours forever and ever. Even today, when I held you, you wanted to lay on my face and lick me.  Everyone called you Velcro Gina because of how you'd launch yourself onto me and cling...you were an annoying thing but I secretly liked it.

You and your sister helped to homeschool Jake when I had to work.  I never told you how much I appreciated the help, but I did.

You turned out to be my adventurous, fearless baby, much to my surprise...no place was too high, too scary, too far for you to explore and make your own. You learned how to get up there when the others couldn't and you were the one who learned to push the screens out of the windows so you could go hang in the backyard with the dog.  You had no fear of a gigantic Rottweiler, but he?  Was your slave, mostly because you scared him with your braveness. 

And for all my bitching and moaning about you and your whiny, weird, velcro ways, I love you very much and I'll miss you.  You were part of my life for nearly half of it and Jake doesn't remember a time without you in his.  

But today, you were just so tired and your poor little stinky ears hurt so badly, we knew we had to stop putting it off and do the right thing for you.  So, goodbye, my sweet little Gina Lemon Verbena and thank you for being ours. *sighs* Your sister misses you tonight and is trying to find you. Take care of her, okay? 

Love always, Mama