Brings on much introspection.

I’m so much happier. I feel like a more complete person than I have in years. I have peace within myself, I have financial stability, I volunteer much of my time, I have a great bunch of kids that I’m really close with, and I bought myself a brand-spankin’ new HDTV and a pretty cabinet to set it on.

But I have this constant nagging thought that my kids should have some sort of relationship with their father. I periodically suggest to one or the other that they should make contact. He should have some relationship with his granddaughter but Casey’s not interested. Max’s wife would like to meet Buck but Max has no desire to have that happen. Ginnie, well she has her own reasons not to. I really had no idea back when I was married that the kids were already so estranged from their father. How could I not notice? None of them want anything to do with him. Maybe I’ve painted him badly here but he really wasn’t a bad person. Just set in his ways and distant. Sort of anti-social. It was only in the last few years that the drinking (and the personal shit that went with it) got too bad for me to tolerate.

So… is it just because of some old-fashioned blood-is-thicker-than-water reasoning that I keep pushing this? I mean, I still maintain a relationship with my mother and I don’t even like her. Or maybe deep down I’m just proving to myself that it’s not my fault they’ve chosen to cut him off. My issues with him shouldn’t be their issues but apparently they have issues of their own.

Whatever, I wish I could let it go. I’ve always thought that blood didn’t mean anything to me but that’s not how I act. I wish I did. Maybe it’s too ingrained by society.

Other than that I’m doing great.

I picked Kira up from school Monday and stopped by their house to get a clean uniform for school the next day. On the way there we had an involved conversation about Aunt ‘Rinda’s stupid mean horrible pregnant cat. Kira thinks this pure white cat is going to have lots of colored babies. She’s hoping (eeek) that it has 12 babies and she wants the black one.

Well, I tried to explain about how the colors thing works and, though I know exactly nada about cats, how with it being her first litter she probably wouldn’t have 12 babies. Maybe four or five. And that likely they all wouldn’t, you know, live. Not to mention they really didn’t need to keep anymore cats (they have two) and maybe Daddy wouldn’t let her keep one.

So we get to the house and take the uniform from ‘Rinda’s boyfriend whose name I can never remember… something starting with a B. As we’re leaving Kira spots a couple of neighborhood cats “wrestling”. The one on top is this vague mud colored fella so I’m guessing the upcoming kitties will be a variety of mud and white. There’s usually only one stray male around in any one area, right? Aren’t they territorial?

Just what the world needs, more cats. Blech. If you want to have a cat, get it fixed. Especially if you let it wander around outside.

I’ve never had anyone physically close to me have cancer, so I really don’t know the hands-on effect on the stricken or those around them. Oh sure, cousin A or far-away friend Z has had it and I get snippets, but to be right there witnessing, helping, supporting? Not so far. A person can only empathize so much from a distance.

My beautiful niece Brittany (Miss B) had skin cancer when she was 16. Of course, with her living in Florida and me being here I had no real connection to that process. And except for the wicked scar in the center of her back she seemed to sail right through that experience.

But just as all thoughts of it fade away, cancer strikes again, as it is wont to do.

Last Thursday I noticed on Facebook that she was in the hospital and within hours she called me to tell me what she knew at the time. She had 3 spots on her lungs – one the size of a tangerine – and they’d scheduled a biopsy for later that afternoon. After a shitload of text messages between me and my kids, calls to my Mom (grrr arg) and a call from my Dad, my (surprise!) sister actually called me. The biopsy was done and another surgery to help her breathe better. Although they have to wait for the biopsy results to be sure, the doctors think this time our Miss B has lung cancer. Inoperable. Plans (apparently) to try chemo and stuff are in the works but who knows how it will all turn out. Don’t tell “our mother” or post anything online right away. Hey, I waited a few days. The last thing she said was Brittany is a strong girl and she’ll come though this just fine.

Well… now… she’s certainly strong willed. When she lived with me we butt heads all the time. But she’s also very sensitive. That girl has had so much shit in her life already. I guess that which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Or as the tattoo across her chest says:

Victory is sweetest when you’ve known defeat

We’re all pulling for her to get through this. There’s not much more we can do at this point. I’m not certain of her health insurance status so maybe at some point we’ll be raising money. I can surely help with that.

Hang in there Miss B. I love you and miss you and wish I could be there to… do something! I can’t do shit across the country, but you’re in my thoughts hourly and I know you’ll fight this as hard as you can.

Me? I just want to punch somebody. The fact that my family has lousy communication skills means I keep up with the news via Facebook status updates. Today she’s in pain and the meds aren’t cutting it anymore.

Shit. Fuck cancer.

Sad Sack

I went with the backup outfit and I think I looked rather good! I was stupid enough to get there early (to get good parking) and stood in the stupid line for what turned out to be absolutely no reason. I realized that just about the same time my friends Charlie and Carolyn showed up so I stayed in line with them. The place has no seating so why wait in line? Duh! I could have been comfy in my car for that 45 minutes instead of standing around.

Anyway, we got in – got drinks – and I set up camp out on the smoking patio where there was the only seating in the whole place. Concrete benches, oh joy. I waited out there until the concert actually started and went in to enjoy Jonathan Coulton. He played a few oldies but mostly new stuff which was so interesting I ended up buying a (signed) a copy of his latest CD Artificial Heart.

Between JoCo and They Might Be Giants I went out and sat again but it wasn’t enough. Four songs into TMBG I gave up. My back, neck, knees and feet hurt so bad I could hardly stand it. Especially my neck. I couldn’t turn my head at all. So I went home.

Here it is 3 hours later and I still have pain in my neck. Oh well, I’m just too damned decrepit to stand for hours at a time. I won’t be going back to the Marquee Theatre ever again. I need seating, thanks.

Oh yeah, I had three different women compliment me on my Surly necklace. I’m such a pusher for her wearable art.

I know it sounds like I go out all the time, but in reality I’m usually going to places I’ve been before. Every time I go a new place I get anxious. How does one dress? Will there be seating? Will they have what I like to drink? Is there decent parking?

I bought tickets months ago to see Jonathan Coulton – who I love – tonight at the Marquee Theatre. He’s opening for They Might Be Giants – who I know nothing about – and I expected to have a great time. So I mentioned it to the girl who was coloring my hair last night and she dropped a few comments about the venue.

So I looked it up. Well, I tried to. It doesn’t appear to have it’s own website so I then went to Yelp. Egads, no seating! I have to stand for hours? Shit. That means the boots I was planning on wearing are out. And lots of bitching about it being too hot. There goes my whole outfit. I have to rethink my entire plan now!

I don’t do well when I can’t sit down. Combine heat and standing and I’m actually rethinking going at all. What I thought was going to be a good night has now become a bit of a dread. But I can’t miss Coulton. Maybe I’ll just stay for his part, I should be able to last that long. And I must remember to eat first.

Either way, at least my hair looks great!

Found a note on my door a couple days ago. A two-day notice of intent to enter apparently  every apartment in the complex.

This inspection is for our annual lender inspection and is a mandatory inspection of all apartment homes located within our community. Due to the nature of this inspection, we can not accommodate appointments or reschedule.

WTF? Annual lender inspection is a new one on me. So sometime 9-5 today or tomorrow someone will be inspecting my apartment for what? What would the lender be looking for? Illegal activity? Improper remodeling? Poor hygiene? Hoarders???!!!!!

I’m resisting the urge to attempt a massive deep cleaning. My place is a little messy with little girl stuff as I don’t bother to clean up after the kid unless I’m expecting company of my own. There are 2-3 dishes in the sink and a bag of trash by the door to be taken out. I suppose I could vacuum… fuck that.

The worst part is I have to be dressed. I’m seldom wearing real clothes when I’m home alone because I’m an elderly shut-in. I have “house clothes.” Let your imagination wander.

Bring it on lender inspectors.

________________________

OK, so they came and went. Three guys, one to check if I had all the appliances and that they worked, one guy went in to the bathroom (without the light on) and spent a couple minutes doing I dunno what, and the third guy wandered around looking at the edges of the ceiling in every room with a giant flashlight presumably looking for water leaks.

Seriously, what was the guy doing in the bathroom? I didn’t hear any water running or flushing, but what would you inspect in the bathroom in the dark? He didn’t even have a flashlight. Creepy. And now I have to pee and I don’t want to go in there.

Having been a victim of child sexual abuse there’s something I taught my children:

YOU NEVER HAVE TO BE ALONE WITH ANY ADULT.

There is safety in numbers. There is safety in witnesses. If your teacher wants to talk to you alone, insist on someone else being in the room. If your principal calls you into his/her office alone, insist on the door being open or another staff member being present. If ANY person in authority wants to see you alone, you have my permission to politely request there be a witness or refuse to comply. If you’re uncomfortable with someone then tell me. If Mr. Whosywhatsis gives you the creeps then you have my permission to avoid him. This includes coaches, cops, church people (when they visited their friend’s churches) or anyone in authority.

There’s no reason to be rude about it unless and until it becomes confrontational. There are ways to protect yourself without being a smart-ass about it. Be calm but firm, and if you get any crap about it insist that I be called in.

Sorry sir, it’s a family rule. Period.

Because you never know. Women have been married to pedophiles and never knew, people have worked alongside these monsters and never had a clue. Children are the least capable of determining character and are easily convinced of a person’s charm until they are backed in the corner and it’s too late. Pedos are slick. They’re masters at being in the right place at the right time.

Those Catholic priests and the people who covered for them. That football coach and the people who covered for him. I just read another article where a manager of child actors has been accused. My uncle was a deacon in his church and has two adopted children – the adoption process scrutiny should have found something but it never did.

Never leave your child alone with anyone especially if they don’t want to be there. If they say they don’t like the babysitter, find another one. If their relationship with an adult suddenly changes, PAY ATTENTION to why. The child may be afraid or not have to words to explain, but figure it the hell out before you let it go.

Yeah maybe I’m a little paranoid. I have cause. All it takes is a few minutes alone to change your child’s life forever.

At about 5 p.m. Monday November 21st, 2011, Anne McCaffrey passed away.

I’m writing this now because I want to remember, not link-bait. Just a few weeks ago we were discussing (on StorytellersAZ) heroes and icons and I couldn’t really think of anyone on the spot that I could mourn like people were going on and on about Steve Jobs. When I got home that night it occurred to me that Anne McCaffrey is the closest person to an icon that I have had in my life.

My first AMC book, DragonSong, was given to me when I was in the AF and working late shifts in the Pentagon. I loved it and went on a search for anything else she had written. Over the years I think I’ve read just about all of her stable of stories and own many of them. I’ve always looked in used book stores and at yard sales and I always buy if I don’t already have a better copy.

When I finally got on the internet one of the first places I visited was her website, complete with bulletin boards and a chat room – where I met some of my oldest friends. Come to find out Anne actually visited her chat room just about every day so I got to know her online as a real person. We chatted about everything under the sun and when she mentioned how much she missed Girl Scout cookies, I shipped her some.

I first met Anne IRL at Dragon*Con in 2003. She told everyone at the gather the story of those cookies and how when her sister-in-law was dying, those damned cookies where the only thing she would eat. Holding my hands the entire time, she had everyone in the room in tears.

I saw her again a couple years later, but I couldn’t get back after that.

I will always remember what an interesting woman she was. Bawdy, funny, smart and did NOT suffer fools. What they used to call a spitfire. Most people say her PERN series is their favorite and although I have a dragon tattoo because I love her dragons, my favorite series is the Freedom one. Then the Talent series. Then PERN. Blasphemy in the fandom, I know.

I don’t want to fly dragons, I don’t want to have some cool power and I don’t want to be picked up by aliens and dumped on another planet, because I’ve already done all that. I want to be like Anne was, strong willed and sassy. She’s my hero.

Now I gotta go dig out my AMC books and do some nostalgic reading.

I love ready-made food. I’m not a cook, I’m a heater. I’ve loved everything Stouffers that I’ve tried. I also like Birds Eye Three Cheese Chicken Voila! Not so much the other Voilas but I do like this one except the carrots.

Ugh, the carrots. Don’t get me wrong, I do like carrots but these are… nasty. Something is terribly wrong with their carrots. I’m really not a fan of broccoli either but this brand has enough cheese to cover the taste of those.

I figure if I eat all the broccoli it’s okay if I pick out the nasty carrots, right?

For an antivegetarian I think I’ve come a long way every time I choke down some broccoli. Here’s to eating healthy.

Blah

Something just popped up on my Google+ thingamajiggy that I don’t really use. Some feller posted something about online “friendships” and how most people (those who presumably don’t spend a lot of time online) don’t give much credit to those friendships.

Now I’ve met bunches of people I first knew online, either through twitter or other local social events. Honestly I barely know most of them. Yes we greet each other warmly (and sometimes hug) but really it’s a more surface relationship. But I can count many people I’ve met online over the years that have really become lasting relationships.

My oldest online and BFF is Cara. I met her and another friend Charlotte on a fandom site years ago and have met them both IRL. I make time in my life to see Cara at least once a year. We laugh that we’re twins born 10 years apart. Peas in a pod. Closer than sisters. Charlotte is awesome too. She’s an amazing writer and one of the most interesting young people I know. I feel honored that she likes me. There are other “friends” I met on that site that I still stay in contact with, some I wish I could meet and some I’m fine with keeping it an online relationship.

I met Evo online (podcasting) before I actually met him, and through him his wonderful wife Sheila. My lifesavers. These people changed my life. And through podcasting I’ve met other wonderful real life friends. CJ (my local BFF), Dani the Diva, Donna, A, Bruce, Crystal and many others.

I’ve met people through twitter meetups and other online-people social get-togethers that I love! Jana, Jeff, Wendy and Chris, Katie and Tyler, Patrick and Vinessa, Ruthie, Oden… I can’t wait to see these people all the time. Great times, great people.

Had I never plugged into the internet I would never have met any of them. I shudder to imagine where I’d be without them. Most of the people listed here mean more to me than my own family – except my kids/grandkids!

Here’s the thing. Of all my friendships with people I didn’t meet online only one has survived. But guess what, Wendy and I maintain most of our contact on the internet and use twitter to occasionally meet up in real life. I can’t think of another real friend I didn’t meet online or through online groups, unless you count my kids and our mutual friends.

Thank you Internets.