Happy Boo Day!

So when I got into work this morning, Mom wanted me to make sure I went to see her when I prepared my mid-morning hot cocoa. I did so, as requested, and she proceeded to plop a li'l Peeps Ghost in the middle of it. *grin* Very cute.

No big plans for tonight... Just gonna put my li'l witch's cauldron full of candy out front of my place, then go over to the folks' place to hide out in their basement and watch movies. :)

Li'l Mama Jr.?

Li'l Mama

So back in San Diego we had a li'l stray cat adopt the family. She was a bit skittish, though, and never really let any of us get close. But she kinda hung out around our front yard... and it wasn't too long before we realized she was preggo. So we dubbed her Li'l Mama.

As her due date neared, she started letting us get close to her... she probly realized she was gonna start needin help pretty soon. So we set up a li'l box for her, complete with a blanket to curl up in, near the front door. And sure enough, that box became home to a litter of kittens. We promptly moved the box to the enclosed back yard when we discovered one of the neighborhood VERY large dogs pokin his nose in the box shortly after. Li'l Mama was definately on our team by then, and was very comfortable with us around her and her kittens.

Pop was overseas (in the Navy) at the time... I remember this because we really wanted to keep one li'l grey fuzzball we named Ferdinand (after the explorer). But Mom didn't want to surprise Pop with a new member of the family when he got home from his cruise without consulting him first, so she wrote him about it. Unfortunately, mail was so slow back and forth to the ship that by time we got his letter back saying he was perfectly fine with the idea (no surprise, considering he's a HUGE animal lover and kept the house well stocked with pets during my entire childhood), we'd already found a new home for Ferdinand... along with the rest of his siblings. I think we even found a home for Li'l Mama, too.

Another Orphan?

Well, it looks like my neighborhood (albeit a long ways from the first one) has again been adopted by a possibly preggo li'l orange calico. I knew about her a few weeks ago when my neighbors were out front giving her some food. They're the ones who think she's preggo, though I don't see it. But I also haven't felt for it, either.

We're not sure if she already has a home and is merely being friendly and/or mooching for food... or if she's homeless. I didn't see her again for a while until yesterday morning when I went to take out the trash. And there she was, all kinds of friendly and yappin up a storm. I got the impression she was pretty hungry as she was pokin a little urgently around some of the other trashbags on the street, and proceeded to puke up a rubber band.

And it frosted over that night for the first time this year, so it was COLD out. I felt really bad for the li'l thing, if she really is homeless out in the cold, waiting for peeps to come outside to feed her. So, softy for a furry face that I am, I grabbed the box I'd just put out full of cardboard recyclables at the curb, transferred the recycle stuff to a paper bag, and wrapped the box in a big plastic sack to keep it from getting soggy. I wedged the box under a chair that sits right next to my front door, with the opening facing the building and tucked a blanket inside. And, of course, set out some food and water.

She was definately hungry, as she immediately snarfed on the food. I don't mind continuing to feed her if necessary, but I'm worried about the cold... afraid that the box won't really be enough when it REALLY starts to get cold this winter. It was a completely different matter to be able to put out a box in San Diego. I really wish I could bring her in, but Ms. Pukesalot would have a double decker cow... and she's fixed.

Options

I consulted Mom on the matter, and she believes the li'l cat won't survive the Winter outside, and has suggested that the only option is to take her to the Humane Society, or a local organization called Second Chance. Unless I can confirm that she actually does have a home around here, and then I don't really need to worry about her at all.

On the one hand, I know what the Humane Society does to animals it can't find homes for, because they have to make room for more that come in all the time. And Second Chance... well, if they can take her, that'd be great. But when I was (briefly) considering finding another home for Ms. Pukesalot a few years ago, Second Chance was out of foster homes and all they could have done was stuff her in a cage indefinately.

On the other hand, the Office Manager is on the Board of the Humane Society, so she may be able to find out some options if it comes to that. She says that cats are highly adoptable... especially friendly ones, so mebbe the li'l girl might have a chance.

Personally, I'm wondering if there might be some kind of outdoor heating blankets or something I could find. Yeah, it's probly a silly idea, but seriously... how do wild animals survive out in the cold? How about dogs kept outdoors? It's a thought, anyway.

Amway, the weather's turned a bit warmer again for a li'l while, so I'll just keep an eye out... see if she uses the box at night, an indicator that she may be, indeed, homeless.

Candy Time!

So we've got candy comin out our ears here at work. I mean, I can't really complain much cuz I'm the usual culprit... I keep the place stocked in peanut m&m's every morning. But with Halloween just around the corner, everybody else is gettin in on the act, and there is a HUGE cache of candy at every desk in this department. And just about every other department, too. And it's only gonna get worse as Christmas nears.

Oh, for self control. *sigh*

However, the migraine monster actually comes in handy every once in a while, as it definately keeps me from gorging TOO much on crap. I still push it, though. *grin* One of these days I'll actually learn.

I suppose it also helps that I have more than one "mother" here at work. Mom, of course, but I'm also the youngest chica here... the Office Manager's closest to my age, so we're more like cohorts, but the New Girl (I think I'm going to rename her the Office Whisperer, cuz she has this itty bitty voice I can never hear... though her moving right next to my desk has helped tremendously) and The Receptionist have definately taken me under their wing. They're good at reminding me I have to eat lunch, giving unsolicited advice, and alltogether mothering. :) I don't mind much, though, cuz it's really only on a personal level... professionally, they frequently come to ME for help, so it all evens out.

Besides, I fully recognize that THEIR work situations are as much affected by my migraines as I am, so I appreciate their efforts to help me avoid triggers. :)

A Modicum of Common Sense

Okay, so I've had a box sitting in my mailbox all week.... my mailbox being the 16-in-1 variety typical of apartment complexes. The mail-person opens one big door on one side to deliver the mail, and the individual boxes open with 16 little doors on the other side.

Well, evidently, the box can go in just fine from the big door, but there's a li'l lip (presumably to keep out rain?) all around MY door just big enough that I can't get the damn box out. So I took the rest of the mail and left the box for the mail-person to remove and simply deliver to my door. Fairly straightforward, right?

Evidently not. It was still there the next day, with that day's mail stuffed on top of it. So I left a little sticky note on the box spelling out the obvious. And it was again still there with more mail stuffed in with it. This was yesterday. I tried to squeeze my hand around to the back end of the box so I could apply the note where it would be right where the mail-person can see it when they open their door, but I couldn't get it all the way back and around. The best I could do was tack it on the top as near to the back of the box as I could get, then press the rest of the note down over the back edge.

Hopefully they'll see it today. This is getting rather old. You'd think that common sense would have SOMEBODY wondering why this box fails to disappear. If it's still there when I check this evening, I think I'm simply going to call the post office before I attempt to mutilate the box in order to get it out. *snort*

Flawed

Warning

Today’s posts could well be termed “Too Much Information” for anybody reading this who knows me. I’ve concluded that it doesn’t really bother me to put it out here… I mean, I’ve already yapped about much of this, either in therapeutic purging or personal anecdote. So if it bothers anybody, it’s you, so proceed at your own comfort risk. :)

Memory Lane, Part I

So nobody likes to be reminded of their flaws… past or present. But sometimes those reminders sneak up from behind and smack ya in the back of the head. They say that smell is the strongest sense associated with memory. I’d put in a strong vote for sound, too. More specifically: songs. Actually, all kinds of things have been conspiring lately to traipse me down Memory Lane. Some of it good, some of it bad… and a lot contemplative. Oh, I know it’s no use to dwell on the past. I’m not the person I was then… well, I am and I’m not. I’m fairly sure that’s pretty normal.

But sometimes I simply can’t help but wonder… out of curiosity and mebbe just a li’l regret… how much my perspective on life caused my experiences (good and bad) and how much my experiences created my perspective. Kinda one of those chicken and egg questions… which came first? I imagine they’re pretty intertwined, in either direction. And I also imagine this revelation is rather old news in the big scheme of life and humanity, but it’s an ongoing musing for me, and I have little choice but to follow it in search of a logical conclusion.

A Song in Dark Times

So my first “Memory Trip” was triggered (pretty strongly) by the song: “Love of a Lifetime” by Firehouse. I heard it this weekend… Saturday night in the car after I drove Gram home from Family Dinner. That was the bad one… memory, that is. The song was part of a regular set we used to play in the band I joined just outta high school. I had this big ‘ol crush on the lead singer, who could belt that song out with a perfect Firehouse voice.

Now, crushes are pretty typical things. The problem was: my self esteem and confidence was nil. To my own eyes, I had no value whatsoever… and I already had more than one suicide attempt under my belt by time I joined the band. Mostly half-assed attempts cuz I really didn’t have the guts to go through it all the way, and I was mostly just feeling sorry for myself and wanted everybody else to do the same. Either way, it was a pretty crappy way to be lookin at life. And don’t ask my WHY I felt this way… I didn’t really have any real reasons. Aside from typical adolescence, my tumultuous relationship with my mother, and perhaps the influence of my empathy… but that’s a whole nother discussion.

Dark Kaleidoscope

So the big question with such an outlook is: do people really treat you accordingly (that you have little or no value) because you essentially invite them to do so? Are they even really treating you like that at all, or is it your darkly colored perception of everything in life that makes you think that they are? Which experiences stem from which reality? I’m sure it’s relatively easy to tell from the outside looking in… but even from a different inside looking back… I honestly can’t tell.

And I have to wonder… how did my fellow band members REALLY see me? Did they see a mixed up kid? (most of ‘em were quite a bit older). Did they see an easy mark? For years, my memories had them “passing me around” like some kind of plaything. But when I truly try to analyze the whole mess, I wonder if it was more a matter of each making their own private play. Either way, I simply didn’t have the wherewithal... the personal strength, self esteem, or experience to do anything other than whatever seemed to give myself a small bit of value. Except for one… that experience was more like a mutual comfort sort of thing, but even that was jaggedly… just… wrong.

Lasting Impression

Unfortunately these events (along with another, deeper betrayal… unrelated yet still rooted in the same insecurities) inspired a pretty strong distrust of everything to do with men and sex. Everything I experienced after that was drastically polluted by that perspective… and only served to make the matter worse. Even now… years after the whole mess has faded to memory, after I’ve broken the cycle, grown, learned, widened my perspective… a part of that old distrust is still embedded in my psyche. I willingly admit that it is no small factor in my desire to remain independent… no matter how much I claim I no longer allow it to rule my life.

And I have to wonder again… how many connections did I destroy with that poisonous and self destructive attitude? How many potential ones was I simply blind to in my prejudice? How many will I miss or destroy in the future until I can find that elusive balance? I honestly can’t answer that question. Some connections I regret the loss… and I’ve had the opportunity to try to patch a few as best as I can, though they are forever changed. Some connections I want nothing to do with again… ever.

Moving On

No, I don’t dwell on the past. But it is a part of who I’ve become… for good or bad. And, philosophical creature that I am, I can’t help but try to piece together reality and perception… though I’ve heard the thought that reality IS perception.

Amway, seems I’ve had plenty to ramble about for one post… I’ll have to get into my other Memory Lane trips in another one.

Bright Spots in the Dark

Memory Lane, Part II

So, in continuation of my previous post, my second recent “Memory Trip” happened with a dream… the subconscious being another one of those masked bandits that loves to trip you up every once in a while. I don’t remember exactly which night… it wasn’t too long after the song-assault on Saturday.

Representation of Dreams

I try not to take much stock in dreams… except as inspiration for some of my more fantastical stories. But through them I believe I’ve been able to track, to a certain extent, the process of my psyche healing over the last decade and a half. For example, dream sex used to always be with strangers, very empty, never in control, and very... well, wrong. I accepted this as a reflection of my inability to allow anybody close to me, if not an actual reflection of my view and experience of sex in general.

In the last few years, erotic dreams have shifted to familiar people… if not in real life, then I at least know them in the dream. Not quite “empty”… they seem on the brink of that emotional connection I’ve always wanted to find, but not quite trusting the situation to be true… not trusting myself to know the difference. And I’m in control in my dreams… of myself, of my choice, of my wishes... a HUGE deal for me, and indicator of my growth and strength in real life. They’re still not quite… right, but they are a far cry from the old jagged twist of WRONG.

An Old Friend

So this week’s dream actually featured a character from my past... High School, to be precise. A positive connection in my life from before my destructive introduction to the world of sex, but still in the murky midst of my low self esteem and confidence. This person was definitely a vibrant personality… one I genuinely cared about, and one of the very few I could actually physically curl up with, unencumbered by doubts of intent, reality or wondering what we meant to each other. I could rest assured we lay firmly within the realm of “friends”, and so I had no reason to doubt myself. For my part, I was too busy in the middle of a crush on somebody else, and for his part… well, I always suspected I was a bit too milquetoast for him to be interested in me romantically… lol I don’t doubt I still would be.

But it was a great friendship… part of a great group, some of whom I still remain pretty close with. In the midst of my personal struggles, all of them were literally a lifeline for me. I haven’t talked to him in years… not even sure where he is or what he’s doing. I don’t think he’s kept in touch with many… forging his own way on his own terms.

A Portent of Things to Come?

Now in the past, I HAVE had an uncanny tendency to discover long-lost friends or acquaintances within a year of dreaming of them out of the blue. So perhaps this is a good sign… though I don’t take much stock in the face value of his appearance in an erotic dream. Personally, I like to think it’s a small sign that my psyche is ready to apply positive characters and connections to it’s concept of romance and sex.

It’s a thought, anyway. But a positive one. :)

The Third Era

Eras

So I kinda view my life in five eras of connections: High School, the brief soap opera just after High School, the Navy, my first years adjusting to life in Misery (aka Missouri), and the Marvin’s years. (Marvin’s essentially representing the connections I’ve created purely online… long story, I’ll elaborate later). I don’t doubt there will be more eras… though I’m not sure when or where they will take place.

Memory Lane Part III

The third era was, of course, the Navy. My distorted view of sex and men was in full throttle, but I think those few years were also the turning point for the rest of my life… cultivating maturity, responsibility, self respect and a sense of value. The military can have a tendency to do that. As with all else, my connections there were a mixture of good and bad… but the good were awesome. I’m still in touch with a lot of them, also.

One of whom is Boomer… another one of those I lost touch with, then found again after dreaming about him. Well, actually, HE found me… small technicality. This was at least 2 or 3 years ago. Since then, we’ve pretty much picked up where our connection left off… with a small (okay, huge) divergence into… well, something else. But it wasn’t really a healthy divergence… at least not for me, so I’ve done my best to steer it back on course.

Admiral Me

Amway, we were part of a great group of peeps back then… not quite as intensely important to me as the last group, but still we had a lotta fun, a lotta laughs, a very easy going working and personal relationship, and they made their own special imprint on my heart. One day, as we were standing around laughing (instead of working) in the hangar, we started a one-up game over who could boss who around. By the luck of the draw, I ended up the 5-Star Admiral… who, consequently, trumps EVERYONE.

To this day, Boomer still calls me Admiral. It’s very endearing and a reminder of great days that can never really be duplicated, but endure through the evolution of friendship. I’m not sure what triggered the nostalgia this particular week… I mean, we chat regularly and he ALWAYS calls me Admiral each time we do. Perhaps it was my concern for his safety during Wilma, and a reminder of how much I value him and what he represents in my life.

A Not-so-Subtle Reminder

Amway, that’s pretty much it for my trips down Memory Lane this week. Kind of a strange onslaught… I mean, one can live quite contentedly without thinking about the past at all, and then they sometimes seem to hit ya with a kind of cascade effect, feeling as if they happened just yesterday. I suppose it’s a reminder that I should never become complacent… should always strive to improve myself. Remember my mistakes and lessons of the past, and set them to good use in the present and for the future.

Now don’t get me wrong… I am happy with the person I am today. I’m happy with my life. But I also know that I’ve gained this happiness by slowly fixing what’s broken… and I can’t stop now just cuz I’ve found a place in which I’m content living with something half healed.

A-Okay

So I got to chat with Boomer today, and he's just fine. Evidently, his greatest excitement was discovering a hornet's nest while putting up storm windows. Doh!

And that's about all I have to post about that. Wilma caused a lotta damage, but that's pretty much the nature of hurricanes. I haven't read of TOO huge a loss of life in the majorly hit areas of the Yukatan Peninsula, Haiti, Cuba and Florida so far... though I have yet to hear about how the idiots in the Keys who refused to evacuate and are now effectively cut off from the world, are doing.

The News talks about how everybody's becoming numb to all of these disasters... including the India / Pakistan \earthquake where the numbers of dead were last around 40,000. I suppose it's true. I mean, how much sadness and/or horror can a person take in? All we can do, I guess, is hope those we care about stay safe, and volunteer what we have to give to those who need it.

The Best Intentions of Friends

So I've had a few friends trying to nudge me out of my anti-social cocoon lately. And I can't really resent them for it... just so long as they understand that "more-pushy" equals "more-balky." :) And I think they do understand that. For the most part, anyway.

I Need a What?

IHOP Buddy, for one, has been attempting to hook me up... with just about anybody she knows, really... since we first met. Oh, she gave it a rest for a few years, but has recently become regalvanized. She's not quite the subtle nudging type... more like a woman with a mission once she gets something in her head. And I love her for it... but I think she knows when to stop pushing.

For now, I think she was inspired by a discussion this past week when she mentioned making up from a fight with IHOP Hubby... said make-up involved a massage. I probably should have known better, but I commented that that was one of the few things I regret missing out on living the solitary / anti-social lifestyle... the occasional massage or backscratch. After which she came to the brilliant conclusion that what I need is a truck driver... not in my face all the time, but good for that occasional companionship.

Actually, I have to agree her logic is sound... if she can manage to find a trucker unlike ANY I've met so far. No offense intended, but good-ol' boys just don't do too much for me. And unless a guy just blows me away, I can't see myself putting forth the effort to estabish that elusive comfort zone with an individual of the male persuasion. Of course, anything can happen, and I could end up eating my words. However... original inclination goes a long way towards accomplishing anything.

Office Party

My other li'l social-pusher is the Office Manager here at work. The building is having a holiday party next Friday, and she's asked more than once if I'm SURE I don't want to go. Granted, I think she's kinda feelin that the more peeps she knows there, the more comfortable SHE will be. And I understand that... however, I will not be that comfortable that easily. I know Mom and Pop are going, and I know I could always go with them. But I'm mostly still decided to stay home. I guess I could still always change my mind, but I'm kinda doubtin it.

My regrets to Office Manager... but she should have Mom and the New Girl to keep her company at least. :)

Mmmm... Cocoa

All is Good

Nothin' like a big ol' cup of hot cocoa on a quiet, crisp Fall Friday morning. :)

I'm happy with my home, I'm happy with my job, my relationships with friends and family are strong and positive, and I'm not currently in pain. My two-week bout of serious pain finally broke last weekend... though it's been on and off ever since. But right now, it's off, and I've only had to take pain meds once in the interim... which helps alleviate my concerns about dependency.

I have my sofa... Finally! And I've been diligently but modestly decorating my home for Autumn this week, with not TOO much emotional trauma to my credit card. All I have left is to wait for a leaf-decor coverlet (for the sofa) and a few other matching items I ordered from National Wildlife to arrive, and it will be complete.

So all is good in my own private li'l balance of good and evil... at least for the moment.

Not So Good

As for the rest of the world... well, it's the usual hate and discontent. And another whopper of a hurricane by the name of Wilma, wreakin havoc in Mexico and headed towards Florida. She's forecast to hit a bit south of my friend Boomer, who lives RIGHT on the Florida coast and happens to share a trailer with his dad while he's in school. I'm not too happy about that, but he doesn't seem to be overly concerned. He maintains that he's survived 4 Navy cruises, and is not intimidated by Mother Nature. *rolling eyes* He HAS, however, offered some small amount of reassurance that he at least has the sense to remove himself from the path of the coming freight train if she happens to shift course.

In all seriousness, though, I know I'll worry about him until I can get a hold of him after she's passed through. Since he's north of where her center's supposed to hit land, he shouldn't have as MUCH a danger of flooding as those to the south... but he's still gonna have some major winds to contend with. And if the electricity/phone lines/cell towers are compromised... well, I suppose I may not know for a while.

I still maintain that anywhere on that Gulf Coast is a crappy place to live these days. *sigh*

Victory!

'Nuff said. :)

5th Time's a Charm?

So I'm going to attempt (hopefully for the VERY last time) to get my damned sofa moved from my folks' place to mine this afternoon. I've just talked to IHOP Buddy and, so far, her truck has not broken down, none of her family members have had to be rushed to the hospital, and no other emergency has presented itself... as of yet. *knocking on every piece of wood handy*

Also so far, our manpower is still available. But I'm not counting this thing done until it's done. Too many things keep happening. *sigh*

First time we planned to try (months ago), it rained.... and the sofa has to come out the back of my folk's walk-out basement, through dirt (mud when wet, obviously) and grass up a hill to the front. We decided not to risk it.

Second time we planned it, IHOP Hubby had a sudden death in the family, and they had to go to a funeral that weekend.

Third time we planned it, IHOP Buddy had completely forgotten they'd planned a family VACATION for that weekend. This would be a good indicator for how stressed she was at the time, and subsequently needed that vacation. Which I didn't really begrudge her, but I was beginning to get frustrated.

Fourth time I tried a new avenue... a couple of the young, strong students from work, one of whom has a truck. But the day arrived and neither showed up. Turns out, the truck broke down, and said student didn't have any way to get a hold of us to let us know, except via our work e-mail. Which message, of course, neither mom nor myself saw until Monday. *sigh*

That was this past weekend. By Monday, I was of the "Fuckit... I'm hiring a damn mover" inclination. But I have one last shot of trying to do this inexpensively. IHOP Buddy has again volunteered the use of her truck if I could provide the manpower. So here's Try #5 with a combination of factors from the first four: IHOP Buddy's truck and student manpower.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed. If all turns out as it's supposed to, the students plan to go on their merry Friday night way, and IHOP Buddy + spawn + myself plan to celebrate at... well, IHOP. :)

Allergic

So I was talkin to Bus Snob the other day, and the conversation turned to the ever-present issue of pain and drugs, drugs and pain, in my world. She made a joking comment about junkies and our drugs... it's an old joke between us, and I pretty much laugh and agree. But I've become somewhat concerned about my increasing dependency on pain medication lately... and have attempted (mostly with failure) to cut back some in an effort to break the cycle. But I know I'm just a big ol' wimp... and have come to the conclusion that I'm simply allergic to pain.

The problem is: ever since about 3 days after I went off my amitriptyline a few weeks ago, serious neck and migraine pain has been a daily visitor... and I'm not really sure whether the weaning is the true instigator or not. I've faced a myriad of typical triggers recently... stress, strain, low weather pressure front, PMS... you name it, it's happened in the last few weeks. And the wonderful thing about pain is that it compounds on itself. My head feeds off my neck, which in turn sets off my stomach. I get tensed up, which starts the cycle again with my neck. Which is extremely swollen at the moment. I've trying Advil and lots of ice the last few days to reduce the swelling, but that's just more drugs to add to the menagerie.

So since I'm taking one form of pain medication or another every single day... I have to wonder if part of the pain is withdrawal, considering my primary meds are barbituates and habit forming. I've caught the hint of the beginnings of that pattern in the past, and took quick measures to cut it off at the quick. This time's not so easy. I've tried paying close attention to relaxing, getting up and walking periodically at work (which Bus Snob has also been helpful with as a little reminder alarm *grin*) , drinking lots of fluids... non-drug preventatives. But it just seems the more attention and effort I give the matter, the more I'm simply aware of the pain. If that makes sense.

Amway, I'm inevitably wondering if going back on the amitrip could be an answer. I dunno. I've rather liked actually waking up to my alarm clock in the mornings and actually getting to work in a relatively timely fashion. But if I go back, I want to do my best to be aware and understand all of the possible sources for this pain... so I know that the preventative medication is really the answer, and not just a cessation of other triggers. I may try to stick it out just a little bit longer... until mebbe this pressure front moves through, or I'm past the hormones, or at least get this swelling in my neck down. We'll see how it goes.

It's not an end of the world problem, just one I'm still trying thinking through and hope to find a solution soon.

Finally Catchin the Bug

So I think I'm finally gettin sick... after a year of holding my breath, wondering when it's gonna happen. See, since I almost always get sick when I travel, I started packin on the Vitamin C about a month before my trip to San Diego last October. I haven't been sick since... not even for the big worrisome flue season when they ran out of vaccinations.

And I've been waitin for the other shoe to drop ever since, considering I almost always get sick with the changing of the seaons... every year, like clockwork.

So I guess I took a break for a year, but am back to normal. Cuz I'm feelin the definate signs of a cold comin on. At least I should still be in decent shape to get to work tomorrow, since the Office Manager is out all week and I'm her backup. I can be sick over the weekend... even though I'm helpin the folks with their garage sale on Saturday, and we're gonna try to FINALLY get the sofa moved on Sunday. One of our student workers has a truck and has graciously volunteered his truck and himself to help out.

I guess we'll see how it goes. Blech.

Fall is Here!

So it finally dipped into the '60's today... yay! Fall is officially here. My favorite season... which I probably mentioned LAST Fall. But one can never appreciate Mother Nature too much.

Coincidentally, we are also without Heating/AC system for three days while the final steps are taken to divert our steam lines at work. They've been working on them all summer... ripping up one half of the parking lot or the other, forcing us to find creative parking alternatives.

So, with no atmospheric controls at all today, everybody's been runnin around freezing. I've been fine, though... so either this California wimp is finally adapting to Mid-West climate or I've finally acquired a decent layer of insulation. Either way, I'm fine... and lovin this weather. :)

Inspiration

So I've blogged a few of my bizarre dreams in the past. I had a whopper last week sometime... possibly Friday, don't really recall. And it was unusual in that it was practically a classic nightmare.

I think I've mentioned before that I don't have typical nightmares... with ghosts or goblins or monsters. Well, actually I do get all sorts of those characters, but I'm never AFRAID of them. I guess that's my definition of a nightmare... not the content, but my reaction to it. Namely, having the crap scared outta me.

But this one was chock full of the walking (and dancing) Dead (with a capital "D") existing simultaneously with the rest of us in the real world, only we can't see em. And they were pretty damned scary, once you could see 'em. Even scarier when ya can't STOP seein em and realize that all of us are really Dead (more of that capital "D") only some of us are merely delusional. Or something like that. There was more to it, but I'll leave that out for now.

Sounds like a classic horror flick, right? Or some bizarre allegory for poverty or some such. Amway, it's just these kinds of dreams... the ones that stick out in my memory with surprising clarity, emotion and detail, that become inspiration for stories. Almost every one of my short stories has been inspired by dreams... and are ultimately incorporated into my larger story. The one I've been workin on since High School and will probably be finished sometime after retirement. lol

So I already have a basic outline formulated in my mind for the story... and have considered possibly blogging it in portions. We'll see how or if I remain inspired. I finally finished up my Tak game, and actually started reading again this week (much to IHOP Buddy's delight, since I have quite a stockpile of books she's been trying to get me to read over the last year, at least). So mebbe after I'm finished with my current book, I'll start formulating my story.

I'm actually kinda excited... when I'm inspired and have a story working it's way around my head, it's really quite exhilirating. Of course, when I lose inspiration or hit a road block, I tend to lose interest quickly. Hence my lack of being a published writer... *grin*.

The Kitten Chronicles

So there was a kitten out front of my work building last week. Tiny li'l thing... didn't even have her eyes open yet. But she certainly had some strong vocal chords.

After much drama throughout the whole building (we have a pretty substantial staff) and rushing to PetCo for kitten formula and then rushing around trying to find something to poke a viable hole in the bottle nipple (these things don't come pre-poked?), the kitten finally got her fill and promptly passed out in the arms of her new mom.

Said new mom just came by our department to let us know how the li'l one is doing at home. Of course, she has to be fed every 4-6 hours or so, and the whole family is in on her 24-hour care. It has already been projected that she is going to be spoiled rotten. :)

Also... turns out somebody found the rest of the litter just up the hill from here. And well cared for, so Momma's still in the picture. It's kind of a busy area, so we're not sure if she was trying to move them to where we found our li'l presumed orphan, or the other way around. Either way, the litter is now no longer in that location, so we can just hope Momma is still searching for an ideal home. I feel kinda bad that she had a kitten kidnapped, as it were, but all we knew at the time was that the li'l one was alone and hungry and LOUD. And she's in a good home now. :)

Hooray for Word Verification!

So I recently discovered quite by accident what the Word Verification function is for in blogger settings. Sometimes these things aren't completely blonde-proof.

Amway, I turned that puppy on, and I think it's already started workin. According to my sitemeter, I've had a couple of total strangers enter my main page and exit my most recent post in a matter of seconds... usually a sure sign of the spam pellet perpetrator. But no pellets anymore... yay!

I highly recommend it to all. :)

Restroom Panic

So have you ever experienced that sudden panic that you're in the wrong restroom just as you're taking your seat?

No?

Oh... well, ummm... er, never mind.