Confessions of a One-Track Mind

I have done ALL THE SHOPPING. Although I forgot to bring the box of chocolates earmarked for my hair stylist with me when coming out and will need to obtain more. Other than that, though, I don't need to go into any crazy-filled stores before Monday.

I'm at the library. They called me saying one of my requests was available, so I dashed out (thus forgetting the chocolates) and now have Son of Neptune to read while I am NOT shopping. Am feeling well-rewarded by The Universe, because I came very close to buying it outright three times this week. (Price club I have shiny new membership to is cheapest by about three dollars.)

Speaking of rewards from The Universe, I helped J out last night---she needed to return something at Target---I ran in to save her having to fuss with unloading the chair. It took maybe three minutes, which is less tyime than it takes to unstrap the chair work the lift. Then we collaborated on a trip to the dollar store so she could get wrapping paper---and I found The Libertine, a Johnny Depp movie I've never gotten the chance to see, on DVD for a buck.

At 2:30, I have a haircut scheduled. Tried to get in last week, but it just didn't work out. Saturday I had the lunch/movie date with Big Red, Sunday I had church, and this was the next thing she had. But hey, at least I can afford it, and won't have to keep swiping my hair back and grumbling.

I may or may not get another post up before Monday, so here's wishing you a festive Whatever You're Celebrating, or a pleasant weekend if you're not celebrating anything. I have assorted gatherings and festivities planned over the next few days, and several packages to open Sunday morning. If the elves would just come in and clean my kitchen, it would all be perfect.

Cool Yule, y'all.

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Laundry. Holy, crap, have I been doing a lot of laundry. Digging and washing and sorting and hanging and finding hangers! And more hangers! And more frickin' hangers and more frickin' laundry---yesterday, I was pulling stuff from down under the hanging bar that spans my garage. Found stuff that had fallen off hangers, stuff that had fallen off the ironing board, stuff and more stuff, and just when I thought I was getting to the end of it, I parted the clothes on the bar, like parting the Red Sea (or in this case, the Pink Sea), and discovered to my utter horror a pile of bedding, spreads and comforters and blankets---at last three, more like four loads all by itself. *whimper*

Mind you, I found a nice skirt I'd completely forgotten I owned, TEN pains of panties, which is a Very Good Thing indeed, and some stuff that made me go, "Why do I still have THAT?!" So I'm benefitting from my industry and making progress, it's just not happening as fast as I'd like it to, but then, what ever does?

Still, the Universe was very good to me yesterday. I got dressed and dragged myself out to pay the light bill (FPL--Florida Plunder and Loot). I checked the mailbox and found a darling card with a picture of a black Labrador Retriever* on it from pwcorgigirl and an equally charming GC for Aldi's.

I hit WalMart first for another phone card, then Aldi's, where I invested in some things that food stamps doesn't cover. Went above and beyond the GC, planning to pay the difference with food stamps. Except the register wouldn't ring it up that way, there was no manager in store and lines backing up. They wrote off the overage just to get me out of there. $14 worth of goodies! They've got their Christmas delicasies out, so they're especially yummy.

Then I took care of the FPL bill and went home with a sense of accomplishment. Spent a quiet evening, then this morning I put a load of laundry into the dryer, stopped by Publix to get a raincheck on some diet Cheerwine at the current sale price and on to J's for a meeting about dog training. Fingers crossed, it looks like there *might* be some money in it!

/----/----/----/----/

* Or as a photographer of my acquaintance calls them, "black light-sucking dogs", because either they're a black hole in the picture or they're washed-out looking; apparently it's very tricky to get the exposure Just Right.

If you found a wad of cash on the ground, would you keep it? Donate it? Take it to the police?

I would THANK GOD---after I'd tucked it into my purse and scurried off to pay bills. I regard unidentified cash as a gift from The Universe: Finders keepers.

Yes, I'd make a generous contribution to the offering plate come Sunday morning.

First, I'd pay bills and fill my gas tank. Depending on the size of the wad, I might even be able to get my phone/net/cable restored.

I'd stash a little away for a rainy day. Enough to see a movie or two, and to reciprocate toward some of the people who've helped me out.

I wouldn't commit a robbery to get cash, but if The Uni verse throws it at me, I'm not going to throw it back. Frankly, a fat roll of 20s, 50s and 100s would be welcome....

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A friend's new big-ticket item has you thinking -- and coveting! You might want something shiny and new for yourself, but before you start shopping, wait. An elaborate lifestyle may fit perfectly into the worlds of some people, but not you (at least not right now). You'll do better avoiding any splurges today, and may be even better off paring down some of what you already have. Your focus should not be on material goods right now -- it should be on the quality of your life.



I always find it wryly amusing when The Universe calls me on my shit.

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God, if I have any credit with you at all, any good kharma in the bank, PLEASE let me get the job I just turned in a resume for. I don't care that it's in Satellite Beach, because it's that OMG juicy. It's more than just phones, it sounds like it might actually be a career instead of just a job, I'm not going to go into detail because it's kinda pointless unless I get it, but---PRAY FOR ME!!! Not just becaue I need the money, but because this is a job that actually sounds stimulating.


( Would you give this woman a job? )

Today has been full. I spent about five hours collecting cans (and picking up a bit around the edges). There's going to be a metric assload of stuff going to the curb on Monday! Which is good, albeit frazzling, as when one bag tipped over in the driveway and a bunch of cans slid under my car. Ended up with two bags in the trunk, three in the backseat and a contractor bag in the passenger seat; I could barely see out the window.

The Universe decided to fuck with me; had a cop get behind me at the first light on the main drag and follow me ALL the way out to the turn-off toward the industrial park. Got stopped at every single goddamn light, all five of them. Sweat bullets, then he kept going west on 524 and I took a deep breath and headed on to the recycling center

I think I set a new personal record: 43.5 pounds of cans, netting me $23.93. If I'd scrounged the bottom of the back seat, I probably could've rounded it up to $24.

Came home, showered, headed to the church for movie night. The original schedule called for "Despicable Me", but the owner of the DVD had loaned it to someone who misplaced it. We ended up watching "Megamind", which I really enjoyed. Hell, I'd get it just for the soundtrack, which was heavy on 80s metal, no pun intended.

Something odd happened while I came home and checked my e-mail---someone knocked on my office window. My first thought was BC; unannounced visits are totally his modus operandi. No, it was Mb and her SO with his service dog, Jazz. (Insert gratuitous Akita shot here)




You may not be aware of it, but thanks to the Americans With Disabilities Act, a service animal can go anywhere a member of the public can go. Apparently the staff of Golden Corral and members of the Palm Bay police department aren't aware of this, because Jazz, SO and Mb were evicted from the restaurant this evening, and per Mb, All Hell is fixing to break loose. They wanted to talk with J, who is something of an authority on this subject. I rang her up on her new iPhone number and they got to talking. There is talk of calling news channels and the local paper about this blatant violation of the ADA and Mb has also left a message for her lawyer.

While SO was detailing the events of the evening, I finally got to unwrap the wall hanging I've been waiting for. I guess I know what I'm going to be busy with tomorrow---putting a backing on it and getting it ready to hang. (At this point, it's a 9"x13" tapestry rectangle.) I can present it to its intended recipient on Sunday, and I will of course snap a pic and post it for you all to see.

They departed, and I went in and watched SPN. God bless the DVR! Highly awesome ep in many ways, although parts of it were very OMG!WTF?!BBQ!!!

In a little bit, I'm going to wander in and watch Blue Bloods.

That's my day.
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This morning's message from TUT was absolutely classic!


If I can handle plate tectonics... if I can wrap Saturn in rings... if I can hurl planets into place, and design Milky Ways, moths, and millipedes... just think what I can do for you.

Fluffy, want more.

A lot more.

It opens doors.

Tallyho,
The Universe


No, Fluffy, not the chocolate bar, the galaxy.

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Have you ever had a really horrible day? And come home and had a drink, and the booze hits and that knot at the base of your neck relaxes suddenly, and it's like your brain is unraveling?

It's like that.

Except, multiply 1 day by 21 or so...which is how long I've been on tenderhooks about my benefits running out. Add the fact that when I last put in for my weeks, it only showed that I was getting ONE week instead of two, and I've been frantically trying to figure out what I was going to do if that was all I got, period. One week would just barely pay my insurance for the month, and *possibly* give me enough over for toilet paper and a dozen eggs.

Today, when I went to the mailbox, I found a letter saying my benefits have been extended, and giving me checks for the full two weeks. I spent a couple minutes sitting in the driver's seat of my car, weeping and thanking The Universe.

Then I went up to WalMart, made a deposit, and shopped for a few things beyond t.p. and eggs. (Nothing really extravagant, unless you consider a chocolate-cherry scented Plug-in to be a luxury item.) As you can imagine, it was rather hectic on the Saturday before Thanksgiving! I contributed to the kettle of the first bell-ringer of the year---a tradition of mine: Even if I haven't any money the rest of the season, the first kettle gets SOMETHING.

Drove home feeling drunk with relief. I hadn't realized how tense I was until I wasn't, y'know?


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Gods in Heaven be praised, I think they're actually GONE. I noticed earlier that the porch light was off, and there were no lights on in the house, but there was just now someone who drove up and knocked on the door for a couple minutes (and YES, it's a quarter til one AM, which gives you an idea of what I've been putting up with) and there was no answer.

I'll keep you appraised of the situation....

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I think I have finally gotten myself resynched as far as sleep goes. *crosses fingers* It helps that there is actual full daylight at 8AM instead of murk.

Yesterday I went to a dog event---wasn't working the booth, just hanging out. Due to the coolish weather---50s with a strong breeze over the weekend---there was a good showing of the heavier-coated breeds. Not just huskies and malamutes and shepards, but a stunning Landseer Newfoundland, gorgeous he was, a real gentle giant. Giant? Also a big black giant Schnauzer. A St. Bernard. And three lovely black Standard poodles, all very perky.

There was a lure coursing course set up (I know that sounds redundant, but chasing the lure is called coursing, and it's set up with boundaries like a racecourse, so it's not, really.), and watching that was fun. There were some dogs who didn't Get It, as in, "I'm supposed to follow the plastic bag (lure) all the way around the course." They'd romp after it as far as the first turn, then wheel around and run back to their people. There were a couple of Rotties, though, whose prey drive sent them galloping through the course, chasing that bag for all they were worth. They're so athletic, it was beautiful to see.

Am a little put out with J. Part of it is her math---I picked up a couple things for last week's event with my own money, and I disagree with her total as far as reembursement goes. Part of it is her assumption that I'm always available (She'd shoot me if I said she takes after her mother, but...in this, yes, she does.) and have no plans of my own that might conflict with her events---for which I'm not getting compensated, I might add---she hasn't even fed me lately.

There's also the fact that she's been enlisting her bestest buddy from school, the wench who didn't show up for set-up last week, and who made a snarky comment when I showed up yesterday. I flat-out don't like her...it's ironic, because usually it's the other way around: My friends don't like each other, but I get along with everyone.

Slid by Fashion Bug afterward to try on jeans. When I asked what the inseam length was on their average jeans (as opposed to petite or tall), the salesgirl looked at me as if I had two heads. What--?! I'll bet their online reps would know. Only found one pair in a dark wash that I liked, and found out that their size 28 fit the same as JMS 26, namely, too tight but I could zip and button them. It was late in the day; I need to go back some time when I can do nothing but try on fifteen pairs of jeans for two hours or so.

Did get some last-hurrah-of-summer tops---three silky tanks that were marked down to $3.98 apiece, meaning that all three of them together were less than half the original price of any ONE of them. They're dressy, and it never hurts to have a little something classy in reserve at this time of year.

This morning, I came out of the house to head over to the food bank, and what to my wondering eyes should appear but a U-Haul truck parked next door. Oh god, Please God, let that mean that the Noisy Neighbors are Going Away!!! *crosses more fingers, can't type*

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1991 was the year of the Pittsburgh Tattoo Convention. It was advertized in the tattoo 'zines, and I *really* wanted to go. I wanted to see more tattoos---this was before you could go to Wally World and see fifty people with tatts any Saturday afternoon. There were very few shops in my area, because Florida had very restrictive laws at the time. GK and I scoped them out when she was looking to get hers, and the closest one was about 25 miles away.

I wanted to get a tribal background for my lizard, and Shaw was going to be there. Which I did.

I also had An Adventure. Except during the years of my inheritance, I've never had a lot of money. I didn't reserve a room, because the info packet had advertised a Con suite.

Unfortunately, the suite wasn't set up on Thursday when I arrived (and it turned out to be a daytime-only thing anyway). I got creative; I found a table on the mezzanine with a floor-length cloth, crawled under it, head pillowed on my briefcase, and slept fitfully til morning, when I hit the hotel brunch and ate half my body weight in bacon.

That evening, when I was standing around talking with a gal who'd also gotten tattooed that day---there was a nightly parade of fresh tatts---I mentioned my room dilemma, and she knew a guy who had a room...I ended up sleeping on the floor again, this time with actual pillows. Nice guy, too bad he was checking out that morning and going wherever.

That night, I found the ladies' room less traveled---this was a nice hotel, and the ladies room on the far side of the mezzanine had an area as you went in with little stools and counters with big mirrors above them, and I pulled out the stools, crawled under the counter and (All together now---) went to sleep on the floor. Was awakened around six by a cleaner, who was very nice. She gave me a clean washcloth to freshen up with, and we chatted. She had family in Bithlo---"Beautiful downtown Bithlo" is something of a local joke, it's a wide place in the road---but it was one of those playful moments from the Universe.

I kept dozing off in the Con suite---which was a partitioned space to one side of the mezzanine, NOT an actual suite---and the lobby. I'd made the mistake of thinking that since the Con ended on Sunday, most people would be departing Monday morning. No such luck.

I ended up taking the hotel shuttle bus to the airport and not sleeping there. Not even on the floor. To this day, I regard the Pittsburgh airport as an outpost of Hell.

It goes down as one of the craziest things I've ever done, and sleep deprivation or not, the Con was a blast.


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As I mentioned yesterday, I saw the movie "Heaven Can Wait" and heard the call. Suddenly, if there was a Warren Beatty movie on the Late Show, I stayed up for it, although HCW remained my Great Love.

I developed a passion for his character's team, the Rams (who fortuitously went to the Super Bowl that season), wore a grey hoodie like his, and...well, I couldn't afford a saxophone. And I knew better than to ask my dad for anything that expensive.

So I coughed up a few dollars and bought myself a sopranc recorder. Thanks to St. Jerk's, I could kind of read music: I knew Every Good Boy Does Fine, and FACE, but I didn't know musical keys from house keys, so I may have been a little flat.

I acquired a fair bit of sheet music/music books, and got into the habit of skipping lunch and finding a quiet place to play during the hour I had for lunch. This was usually in a shaded area outside the library.

One afternoon, a thin boy with blue eyes came out and asked if I had just played "Greensleeves". Yes, I did. He'd been in the reference room, and heard music through the walls and had wondered where it was coming from.

And that was how I met BC. We got to talking, and at the end of the day, he walked me home. It turned out that his family lived literally around the corner from me---the way the subdivision is laid out, I *have* to pass that house coming and going---and had moved in a few months prior.

It soon became clear that the Universe was being playful, because I soon discovered that his sister, GK, was in the school play with me. That year, our drama club was doing "Arsenic and Old Lace"---I was one of the daffy old ladies, and GK was a police officer.

It got better. BC already had a girlfriend, NJ. It turned out that she and I sat next to each other in Brit Lit class---but we'd never talked to each other because we both usually had our noses in our respective books (and I don't mean textbooks). NJ and I became quite friendly, and she was soon one of the slumber-party brigade.

I was somewhat intimidated by Dr Bizarre, who was between BC and GK in age, stolid and unsmiling. I wasn't so much physically intimidated as put off by the fact that he never laughed at any of my jokes. It was a few years before things progressed to that point.

Their dad, VC, was career Air Force, mom Kat at that time had a cafeteria job at the college. VC was from Georgia and Kat was from Texas---the kids had grown up all over, but most of their talk was about the last few years when they'd been stationed in North Dakota, or as BC refered to it, Nodakland.

NJ didn't want to go to the prom, BC and I both did. I asked permission to borrow him, and then began searching for a dress. Dad let me order one from the Sears catalog. We went and picked it up from the store on Wednesday afternoon (the prom was Saturday night), I tried it on there in adressing room, and discovered it was scaled for someone 5'5" or shorter.

If shopping for sister-of-the-groom dresses with my mom had been traumatic, it was nothing compared to finding a prom dress with my dad. Hunting through every department store at the mall, I finally found something wearable at...it was either Burdines or Jordan Marsh, I can't quite recall. It had an empire waist, and was a print that reminded me of cotton balls or clouds, rose and taupe and pale grey. (I still have it, somewhere.) It was...I want to say a size 16---I was about 125 at the time---although it might've been 18.

The prom for CHS class of 1979 was held at the Contemporary Resort Hotel at Walt Disney World. BC got me a corsage and rented a tux (which made him look like an undertaker, albeit better dressed than usual), and I drove, since he wouldn't actually get his driver's license for several more years.

We danced a few dances. There was a buffet of appetizers, which we both foraged at. Got lost on the way home, and of course, had car trouble. (This after not having seen another car for a solid hour.)

A car came along and stopped; it was a guy I knew from my Architectural Drafting class, dressed for prom and driving his dad's Corvette. (I was in a 1971 Toyota Cornna Mark II wagon. Strictly blue collar.) He and BC fiddled with the air filter and got it started. I dropped BC off at his house and continued around the corner to home and bed.

BC, NJ and I all graduated at the same time. (Agnes had graduated the previous year, Big Red came a couple years later.) BC had the good sense to tuck a book into the sleeve of his gown to have something for entertainment during the internimable ceremony. Finally, it was over. We shook Principal Blake's hand and were turned loose upon the world.

Because of my checkered academic career, I didn't get anything resembling career or college counseling. I technically had all the credits I needed to graduate in January, and took off a week to look for work, where I ran into the classic "I can't get a job without having experience, but how can I get experience without a job?" trap. I spent the second half of the year unabashedly ignoring the teachers: "Look, I have all my credits, but those turkkeys in guidance didn't sign me up for January graduation. The only reason I'm HERE is because my dad gets Social Security for me as long as I'm in school." I got a LOT of library passes.

I signed up for early college enrollment and took an intro to computers class. (This is far enough back in the dark ages that they began with an explaination of bits and bytes.) That, as it turned out, circumvented the usual new student orientation I would've been subject to if I'd started in August like everyone else.

Warren Beatty = saxophone = recorder = Greensleeves = BC. Just remember that, because an awful lot is going to stem from it....

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Growing up, I was a horse-mad kid. I have memories of Saturday afternoons watching horse racing on TV---in particularly during the years of Riva Ridge and the legendary Secretariat. (I wanted to marry Ron Turcotte, just to be there in the winner's circle, an adjunct to greatness.)

So today, out of equine nostalgia, I clicked on the headline, "Longshot Pulls Belmont Upset", and discovered that the horse in question is named Drosselmeyer, which set off yet another wave of nostalgia: SOMEONE is a fan of The Nutcracker ballet (in which Drosselmeyer is the toymaker), and which my brother took me to see the Christmas I was seven.

This has nothing in particular to do with anything, just another one of those amusing little zingers from The Universe.

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This afternoon I dropped off some books at the library and sat down for a while to enjoy the beautiful free air-conditioning that my tax dollars are paying for. While I had my nose buried in a book, I was greeted by CapeGypsy, who was also there to stock up on her weekend reading.

From the library, I went to WalMart to pick up a few necessaries...caffeine and ice cream among them. As I was migrating from cheese and lunch meats to bread, who should I run into but MrCapeGypsy.

I know it's a smallish town, but what are the odds?!

As I came out of WalMart, it started raining rish. By the time I got everything into the car, I was soggy. By the time I got out of the parking lot, it had almost stopped raining, and was on and off all the way home. I'm really very glad I had my wiper blades replaced a while back. There hasn't been a lot of rain since then, but it sure did come in handy tooay!

Yes, it IS the rainy season---June 1 was the kick-off for hurricane season:




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A little while ago, the doorbell rang.* I wasn't expecting anyone, and after some kid tried to sell me a discount card yesterday, I was a little wary, but hooray, it was a father-and-son team who offered to mow my front yard for $5. Front and back for $10, I asked. YES.

It's being mowed even as I type, and that's one less thing to stress me out. Because this is the first time it's been cut since last fall, we're heading into the rainy season, and I just plain can't afford $25 for mowing. This is clearly the Universe patting me on the back---maybe for giving away my nail file yesterday---and I'm really relieved.

It's all good.

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And a big ol' tag for timing, because if they'd rung the bell ten seconds later, I would've been in flagrante in the loo at the far end of the house,

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