THis and that, here and there

I wonder what I was doing all week that I didn't have time to write. Or maybe nothing was going on last week so I had nothing to write. Imagine me, without anything to say.
Well there are always things but who cares that I went grocery shopping or that the hideous bruise on my right boob is finally starting to look like a normal bruise and not a portal for something with gnashing teeth and bad breath to leap out and tear out your throat.
The husband pissed me off. No not pissed off. Hurt my feelings terribly to the point where I wonder if I can take it just once more.
I've crafted but I always craft.
And I helped co-investor with his files on Friday.

So there I was this am laying in bed and trying to get back to sleep but I couldn't shut my mind off. I started thinking about who knows what and my mind without its usual rein of Prozac started skipping off down alleyways that were dark and occasionaly just dim.
I've lived a rather weird life. Not quite correct. Weird stuff has inserted itself into my life. My earliest wierd was the time when I saw a huge crab with clacking claws come out of my bedroom wall high above my head. My mother claimed it was just a dream but I was wide awake and know what I saw. Then there were the dressy dolls that I wasn't allowed to touch that stood in a stiff row on a bookcase. Until late at night when they moved about, gossiping and trying out new dance steps. Never told my mother about that. I didn't want to be accused of dreaming... again.
There there was the time when I was near one of my mothers ugly glass whatevers. I looked at it and suddenly it shattered. I wasn't even close enough to touch it let alone knock it from its perch. It did fall, just shattered. Of course, it was my fault. I never lied to my mother so it always amazed me that she thought I was.
Stuff happens to everyone but for me, in no particular order, I was head teller when the bank I was working in was robbed. Not the note pushed across the counter kind of robbery but the guys rushing in with dangerous looking guns, leaping onto the counter and jabbing us in the back with their guns. Now of course, me, in all my glory, was so busy concentrating on what I was doing that I missed all of that. I only realised what was going on when someone nudged me and I looked up to tell him to cut it out. Imagine my surprise to find a guy with a gun pointed right at my chest. What did I do? She who is so smart. I simply told him 'You shouldn't be back here". Uh Huh a real bright bulb.
I met my husband at a funeral. He wasn't my husband at the time, now that WOULD have been weird, and we were married 11 months later.
One of the guys I went to high school with ended up as a mummy on a mountain.
Another guy I worked with ended up as a ghost.
I once left my body by accident and vowed to never do that again. ONly I started leaving while younger son was being born by c-section and the husband pinched my arm hard, to drag me back.
I lived in a haunted house for a couple of years and somehow knew that the house had been built on a graveyard, when the houses (townhouses) were built on what had been farm land and usually new houses aren't haunted. ONly when someone checked the land plats or whatever, she discovered that the family graveyard had been under my house and the bodies supposedly moved. When we looked for a new house, I acted like a dowsing rod and chose the house that 'felt' best.
Then there was the brief time, before prozac, when I was on St John's wort that I was able to find things for people. I don't mean finding the husband's keys at home but people on my email list asking for me to help them find a ring or a certain rubber stamp. I helped with the stamp but the ring wasn't found HOWEVER the person who had lost the ring wanted to know how I knew she had a really big rock in her front yard. I still say that the ring was under the curved edge of that rock. Then the HUsband called from a tutoring student's house to ask where the kid's calculator was. In the wicker picnic basket with the diamond shaped decorations around the edge. The kid got out the basket, was shocked that I even knew that his family had one, complete with the diamond decoration, and found a calculator inside only it wasn't the one he wanted. Hey, it was a calculator foudn where I said it would be, over the phone.
I've had other brief intense flashes like this but they never last for long. I know my power is building when I start seeing things out of the corner of my eye.
Then there was the two attacks by the two pigs this year. The horney boar and then the aggressive mother pig.
I passed Cal Ripkin in a local Target once. I knew the guy looked familiar but I thought he was just a library patron that I recognised. I nodded to him and he looked rather surprised and only nodded back. I suppose he thought I would recognise him and make a fuss. Nope. not me.
What else... I once knew an heir to the HEss oil fortune, the kid whose mother was the voice for Elsie the cow, the kid wore the same leather outfit ALL the time, in summer and smelled worse than a cow, the kid whose Uncle was the Cracker Jack guy from my youth.
Then there was the life lived with my mother and the crap my sister pulled at the funeral and the uproar of the relatives who all seem to be on my side. Who woulda thought?
I know that there is more. I've turned all of those stories into humorous ones. I had to if only to survive.
After all, on my wedding day my mother insited on being the prettiest one there. On the day I gave birth fo the first born son, my mother flew into that labor room and chewed me out because no one had gone out to the waiting room to tell her what was going on. I was in heavy labor in the hospital from 6 am that morning, hooked to all kinds of terminals and it wasn't until 3:30 PM that it was decided that we do a c-section. No sooner did my mother leave that I went into a horrible seisure and had to have an emergency c-section. Youhave to laugh at crap like that. Right?

What I did today

Nothing. Or nearly so. THe Husband gave me the day off from the office while he was fixing up two of the three properties he bought two weeks ago. Astounding really. The man has never fixed a single thing around this house so maybe this will show him that he can do it that he isn't as inept as his father let him believe, I may even get a new floor out of it all.
I didn't make dinner, didn't craft, didn't clean. Just sat in front of this computer playing games over and over and over again until I feared my butt would put down roots and I'd be stuck.
I needed to rest. The rest of the week is going to be busy. I've got two contracts to write up at work tomorrow and then take younger son grocery shopping. Wednesday I need to go to the co-investor's house to continue getting him organised. Thursday I'm in the office all on my own and probably friday as well, depending on how many repairs are left to complete. I think I needed a day like this when nothing needed my attention or sucked up my time. Now I feel like crafting and will wander into the craft room eventually and get to work. First I'm going to see if I can get into my ebay account just once more. ONly I've forgotten the password because i've had to change it so many times. I ought to give up on ebay but once I obsess about something I should just go along until I obsess myself out.

Imagine

When I was a girl we had a big boxy tv with three channels. When it needed repair, you could take one of the big, Frankenstein's lab tubes out of the back of it and test it on a machine at the drug store. If the tube was 'bad' you could simply buy a new tube out of the cabinet in the bottom of the machine and your tv was as good as new. All three channels in glorious black and white.
Color came later, as did cable and satelite tv and so we no longer had to decorate our rabbit ears with flags of aluminum foil to enhance reception.
Pong. Pong was the hot amazing game. Boring as hell even then but people were amazed to watch this thing bounce back and forth across the screen. Now our video games can do everything except come to my house and wash my dishes. Now that's a game I'd buy.
Phones have gotten smaller and they no longer have to be tethered to the wall. You can send pictures and text and who knows, maybe one day we can send people back and forth, kinda like Mike TV in the first Willie Wonka movie. "Mom, am I coming in clear?"
I do have a point. The internet and most especially email.
Today I picked up a friend who I had never met... at least not in person. She's from Arizona and we've been on the same big rubberstamping list for about forever. She's not the only person from that list that I can consider a friend. I have met a whole circle of friends from all over the country, people I never would have known had this been 15 years ago. How poor my life would have been without knowing these people, sharing their lives, their joys their sorrows even though I could pass them on the street and never recognise their faces. Maybe without the face to face we find it easier to accept people for who they are and not what they may look like. Maybe it's easier to tell these people things you would never tell a friend face to face.
I like the internet... never thought I would. I love e-mail. I love peeking into people's lives through their blogs. I love finding odd sites and unusual places. And think. I can do it all in my jammies without having to tame my Madame Hooch hair or wait until the pillow creases disappear from my old lady cheeks. Or even in the altogether except in my case, I'd have to be wearing a sweater because the altogether gets a little cold for me.

To Blog or Not to Blog

A dear friend of mine just lost her furchild. People who do not share their hearts with a fur child will never understand the grief we feel.
They aren't just a pet, an animal, a chore. They take your heart in their paws and hold it close. They love you when no one else does. They listen when all other ears are closed to you. They take you into their hearts and love you the way no one can.
If you make a fool of yourself, they don't care. You can be fat, thin, white, black, smart, and not so smart. They don't care. They do care about your tears, sitting with you, leaning against you worried and wondering. They'll clear away your tears and then go do something so ridiculous that you have to laugh. They revel in that laughter. They roll in it, toss it in the air and hold that close
When there is no one, nothing left for you in this world, they are there, holding you to the earth, needing you and in that needing there is a type of healing.
And yet, we have them for such a brief time and when they leave us there is that feeling of quilt that maybe you could have done something. Somethingyou could have done to change the outcome. And your heart breaks.
I lost a puppy at a month and a kitten at 2 weeks. They both broke my heart. I've lost dogs and cats at 15 plus and each and everyone broke my heart. I still cry for my Emily, at 16, blind and incontinent, she somehow found her way to the street where she was killed. While we were on vacation. She knew it was time for her to go and she took matters into her own paws. THinking of Pip, liver took him at 4. My big beautiful panther as gentle as a breeze. My Mutley, who I miss desperately lately. Those big eyes, that silly expression on his face, the sheer amazing intelligence he possessed. My heart breaks each time I think of him.
ANd my Neba, the best cat in the world gone for more than a decade, nearly two and still the thought of him makes me smile.
You see, that's the miracle of fur babies. You love them furiously, you lose a piece of your heart when they die but their love for you is so miraculous, so incredible that despite your best efforts to fight against it, you seem to always end up yearning for another furry face to kiss, a furry body to cuddle and a furry soul to meld with yours and to make you one.
This is to all the furbabies who have gone on, to all the furbabies who will tonight and to the furbabies who are here now to make us whole. You are the definition of love and our pain at your going is nothing compared to the love you shared with us. A good journey to you and wait for us. We will be with you eventually.

Huh?

It snowed. No big deal. It is winter after all so you'd expect to get snow.
I live in Maryland and in Maryland one flake causes a panic. More than one and that's all anyone can talk about. The local news obsesses on it. We see scenes of salt trucks filling their beds, people running about grocery stores like maniacs as if we would never be able to leave our homes again, and always, some Home Depot that is out of snowblowers, shovels, salt and the like.
And then it snows and the reporters are standing outside telling you that it is really 'coming down'. Uh huh. As opposed to what? Going up? Sideways? Diagonally? Snow comes down. You think they would have learned that in reporter school. But no. It's really coming down. Coming down in this area is when you can still see spaces between the flakes and as fast as it hits the roads it melts.
The big snows we've had, at least those I can remember, weren't predicted to be as bad as it ended up being. I suspect someone, somewhere knew it was going to be bad but didn't tell the new stations for fear that the reporters heads would actually explode with their semi-supressed excitement.
Can you see them. Ms Shiney Whiteteeth, teeth ground together to keep them from chattering, lips folded back or, perhaps, frozen in that position, standing waist deep in snow. "yes Folks," she grinds out between those clenched teeth. "It's snowing, we're up to 3 feet of snow and it is still coming...."


BAM! There goes her head, hat spinning into orbit and they have to go about to train a new reporter. Hopefully one that has the sense to wear a hat and button his or her coat.

Despite the fact that the snow dominated the news there was another bit that set me to puzzling, hence the 'Huh' in this title.

A truck overturned on some highway in West Virginia spilling its cargo of cartons of Dum Dum Pops all over the highway. MMMM Dum Dums. Ever wonder how they get to the question mark flavor? I'm quessing it's just the gunk in the bottom of the kettles that are mixed together and you get whatever the heck it is.

But I'm wandering.

Ok. Highway in West Virgina. Dum dum cartons all over the place that need to be gathered and repacked and


wait

A HAZMAT TEAM!!

An honest to god Hazmat team BECAUSE OF THE DANGEROUS CHEMICALS THAT WERE BEING SHIPPED WITH THE DUM DUM POPS!

HOly crap.

That's it for me. If I were ever to ead a dum dum after this, I would be the dum dum. And probably glowing in the dark.



I have Antiques Roadshow on and got sidetracked by the bread cubes from some moon shot that sell for $25,000 a bag. Some people have been sucking on those dum dum pops for too long.

Olympic openeing ceremony

I love watching the Olympic opening ceremonies. I loved the show Greece put on for the last summer olympics. I have never seen anything so beautiful and one display moved seamlessly into the other.

The guy, gotta blame the men, who planned last night's ceremony must have had a lobotomy or perhaps he needed one. This was the stupidest thing I have ever seen. Now I have a love of anything outrageous and tacky but this was just... good lord... I am at a loss.

For those in the world who missed it, they are the fortunate ones. It started with all this frentic movement that was supposed to be dance. These people were in reds and oranges and there was a lot of arm waving and foot stomping. It didn't look like dancing as much as it looked like people with a terminal itch trying desperately not to itch. Then there were legs sticking up through strips of something. These disembodied legs scissor kicked and Rockett kicked. An eerie sight without the person attached. But wait, it gets better. All those 'dancers' suddenly clustered into a lump that was supposedly a beating heart but looked more like a sea anemone dragged to the service and thrashing about in its death throes.

Now what goes best with a beating heart? Why helmeted skaters, all in red with helmets that looked like the head of an insect and a thing strapped to their back that shot fire. That was supposed to be passion. It was just stupid.

The night had many of those moments. There were skating people, pulling big fiberglass cows around the ice while people dressed in clothes that resembled the black and white hide of a cow did some kind of frozen waltz. Their smiles looked like grimaces, their backs ramrod straight. I guess if I was dressed in cow clothes I'd grimace, too. Ididn't get the whole idea of cows. Besides, aren't Brown Swiss the cow of that area, as if every area had local cows.

It got stranger. There were Ommpah Loompahs, except for the orange faces. These Ommpah Loompah's had miners' lights strapped to their heads but I never did figure out why. There were acrobats for who knows what reason and a desperately undredressed woman in a shell who was supposed to represent Botticelli's Venus. As she stood there trying not to freeze to death, two people on strings flew over and two huge ballons with immense faces floated around to represent the sun and the moon. I liked the balloons but can't figure out why we had balloons. While venus was freezing and the two gods or whatever were moving through the sky there were purple haired women in Marie Antoinette dresses that opened to reveal acrobats with candy cane legs swinging on trapeses INSIDE the dress' skirts.

There was the usual parade of nations. I always feel so badly for the one athelete from a country. I hope the other atheletes invite him to share their tables, or take them under their wing and 'keep him friend' (as the older son used to say when he was little) Canada had the ugliest clothes. Mongolia had the greatest hats even if they were fur. But that's the hats they wear in Mongolia and fitting. Not too thrilled with the Americans' hats but, at least, they weren't cowboy hats...shudder.

MY question is why, during the parade of atheletes, the cameras always closed in on someone using a camera phone or a digital camera or actually talking ON the phone.

My attention wandered after that and I only remember bits and pieces. Seven women came in carrying the Olympic flag. They took forever to carry it in and I'm wondering why Susan Sarandon was there. There was another acrobatic thing that was supposed to form a dove but mostly tyhey looked like white bugs scrambling up and down a screen door. They did eventually form a bird. It was supposed to be a dove, a sign of peace, but I thought it looked more like a hawk or an eagle.

YOKO ONO... what in god's name did Yoko Ono have to do with the Olympics? She read John Lennon's poem Imagine and then some guy with a raspy voice sang it. John Lennon? Look the majority of the atheletes weren't even a twinkle in their parent's eyes when Lennon was alive but it matches the musical taste of the whole thing. The parade of atheletes had old American disco music to walk them in including YMCA by the village people when the Rumanians filed in. Pavarati sung and he was actually frightening to look at. His fleshy face was too pale, his eye borws and hair too black and flat as if eyebrows and hair had been magic markered on.

Oh wait, I forgot the race car that spun out on the ice. The ugly dresses that the sign carrier wore. The skirt of those long dresses stuck out like a bell and was decorated with little trees and tranglular shaped, and stuffed fabric that was supposed to represent the alps.

Greece did it so much better. Last night will probably give me nightmares.

Friday

The weather guys say it's going to snow tomorrow. Which means that Maryland is in an uproar. I had to get some things from the store this morning. Stuff I needed whether it snowed or not. The store was the land that time forgot.
This store is near one of those big senior citizen complexes. One of the ones with their own darling busses that take the residents to the bank and the store and whatever. So that area is heavily old folked. AS is the grocery store where carts just stop in the middle of the aisle or next to another stopped one and the old folk attached to the cart just stand there as if this was the decision of a life time. One guy stood there comtemplating enourmous jars of pickles. Ok I get the bread/milk/toilet paper obsession that hits this state with the first flake but I fail to see the significance of a jar of pickles the size of a small car. I suppose should a pickle emergency crop up, the guy will be ready.
I bought younger son a snow shovel for Christmas. He was the one who said he wanted stuff for his house and that is what he got. He looked at me as if I had lost my mind, yet again, and I couldn't help but nooge him today about the sheer intelligence of the person who bought him a snow shovel.
Now I may be raining or rather not snowing on someone's parade but my snow toe does not hurt. Not a twinge and this is the toe that warns me when storms are coming up from the south and that is where we get our heaviest snows. I trust my toe more than the weather guys. I guess we will see. Or not see as the case may be.

Frustration

I'm wondering if this is national frustration day. It started the first thing this morning and just seems to grow. It reminds me of a big old wad of gum that collects all kinds of gunge as it rolls downhill. Right now there is a wad of cat hair and few crumbs of dog food, a wrinkled ribbon, clump of cat litter and half a dozen dust bunnies.
Work was awful. The husband was rapidly losing his mind and dragging me along with him. I kept wanting to help but he wouldn't let me and yet I got the martyr sigh and the muttering under his breath while I was trying to eat my lunch. I never did finish my lunch and launched into what I could do at work but the man gave me no peace. No sooner did I get my mind around one thing then he was interrupting me with something else that had to be done immediately and then he wondered why I hadn't gotten the first task done. And on and on and on.
I finally got home to discover that my ebay account is still screwed up on the home computer despite younger son working his magic. Unfortunately he doesn't have enough magic and neither he nor I (laughing hysterically) can find what virus or work or spyware or whatever it is that drags me to a bogus site wanting info I would never give... debit card number and social security number... do I look like I just fell off the turnip truck. Ok if I had been securely seated IN the turnip truck I never would have gotten into this mess in the first place. So I'm frustrated and ready to howl and I get to start it all over again tomorrow.

I'll wipe that out of my head with a Rocco story. He was sitting on the bed with me last night, intently watching my hands as I cracked peanuts for us. Ears pulled together, forehead wrinkled, his eyes track every little movement. When he had his fill he started to vocalise a bit and when I asked him what he wanted, he looked me right in the eye and said "ma ma". Thunderstruck I stared at him and he stared back. I managed to ask him what he had said and I'mm be damned he said 'ma ma' once more. Now, of course, he hasn't repeated it but then we haven't eaten any peanuts. Maybe it's a legume thing.

Stuff that wanders through my head

I wonder if the biker (bicycle not motorcycle) with the purple helmet ever looked in the mirror and noticed that the helmet looked like nothing but a big ole raisin smack dab on his head.
I wonder why the woman in the line in front of me at the grocery store had to have everything laid flat on the belt and got all pickled face when he daughter placed a small container of strawberries on top of the cereal box. Maybe it's some kind of knew flat grocery religion. Or maybe she never grew out of the idea that food can't touch even if it is still safe within its box.
I wonder if the husband ment what he said or only said it to see if I was listening. We were outside of HOme Depot and he spotted some generators. He murmured something about getting one for the house for the next time the power went out and then wondered if they were gas powered or electric.
I wonder what's behind that fierce concentration of Rocco's when he tried to uh um 'date' his stuffed gorilla. He's certainly working hard at making her his. No one asked her what she feels about his intentions.
I wonder if, when you die, do you know it's coming or is it one minute you're alive and the next, blammo, in a whole new plane of existance.
I wonder if my mother will meet me when I do finally cross over. god I hope not. I can't see me spending eternity still displeasing her.
I wonder if the husband's business will ever be a success.
I wonder where the two canadian geese who I call The Commuters because they fly over the house in the same path, the same time each day, are going. ANd aren't they back here a little early. It is only February after all.
I wonder how the husband would feel if I actually told him how I feel about my birthday always being ignored. Oh I'm asked what I want and if I dare say I don't know... well,,, I get nothing. I brush it off and pretend it doesn't matter but a murmured happy birthday would be nice.
I wonder if, when I die any one will read my journals.
I wonder why a plumber feels the need to announce that he makes house calls on his sign. Of course he makes house calls. I can't see me dragging my toilet down the street when I need it repaired.
I wonder just how dumb a box of bricks are and if Rocco is really dumber than one. Box, not brick.
I wonder if the muslim god really wants his followers so fanatic that they riot over a caracture of him and if he does, he shoudl really get over it.
I wonder how much wood a wood chuck could chuck and just just how the heck one would chuck if one wished to.
I wonder why dogs eat cat poop but cats don't eat dog poop.
I wonder why I wonder these things and how to shut my head up.

ANy old random thing that wanders through my mind.

Older son is grilling, the dogs with him as co-cooks. Pork roast with a homemade marinade. I haven't had to cook dinner one time this week. I helped with this one. I made the potatoes. Out of a box and not "real' mashed potatoes, you know, the ones with lumps that my mother always made a big deal about it making it seem as if the men were deprived because they didn't get lumpy potatoes. Hey, the men love potatoes out of a bo.

I went to the HUsband's co-investor's house to help get his files organised. I got so much done in two hours that even I was amazed. Co-Investore was paying Devil woman to do this for him but it was taking forever and everything was confused. I'll go back in two weeka to keep everything in order. Co-Investor wanted to pay me but I'm doing this as a pay back because he co-signed on the husband's loan for 3 mortgages for properties the husband is buying. I'm glad I got to co-investor's today and not Saturday when Devil woman is around. She rents a two room suite at his place. In fact, he's rented his whole house out a room at a time and even rents his couch to a guy and his dog. Co-Investor's room is squeezed in beside the furnace.

The husband has always wanted to be a real estate tycoon and I often feel badly because if he didn't have a wife and family he would have done this years earlier. When I mentioned this to him, he told me he wouldn't change a thing, that he'd be so lonely without us. And besides, he's starting to do his tycooning now.

The side of my face is swollen but I know what caused it. I'm hoping ecchinacea will take care of it. I do NOT want to go to the dentist. Besides, the swelling has wiped away the wrinkles on that side of my face.

My birthday is Tuesday and the Husband is bugging me about celebrating it. Birthdays are no big deal to me, they never have been. I don't expect gifts. Instead I'm off duty for the day and can do whatever I want without haveing to concern myself with cooking or dishes or laundry.

One birthday younger son actually set up my rubber stamp stuff for me. That was when I had a table in the living room and had to put everything away because there was no room for stamps and a Christmas tree. I hadn't gotten around to pullin out all the stuff but younger son did, set it up wonderfully and even made me a sign for the wall. "Mom's spot" it read.

Another birthday, Older son was appalled that there would be no gifts for me on my birthday. He treked to the local shopping center, through the icy snow to spend his allowance on a gift for me. A cool little dog statue that I still have. That effort alone was a gift.

How can anything top that?

My sister turns 50 this year. I can imagine the high drama going on in her house. You would have thought the world was coming to the end when she turned 30 and then 40. 50 will be a hum dinger. I don't get this angest over age. Turning 30 or 40 or 50 isn't that big a deal if you look at the alternative. But my sister does so love her high drama. Some of the stories younger son tells about her has me close to peeing my pants. The funniest part is that nothing is exaggerated. It's told the way it happened.

And odd crap always seems to happen to us. AS well as remarkable things. I wonder why that is. Someday I'll have to put down on paper, or in a blog, some of the stories of my life. I doubt people would beleive them but hey, what would you expect from a woman who was in a bank robbery and thought it a test, met her husband at a funeral, and can fend off jaw clacking pigs. Yep. My life has never been boring.

Is it art?

When I'm in my craft room, Rocco sits outside the door guarding me from who knows what. I hope he's protecting me from bad taste because some days the stuff I try to call art stinks.

Anyhow, he usually makes himself comfortable with a stuffed animal for his head and usually something out of the hamper to lay on.

His favorite bedtime buddy used to be this large plush gorilla I had named Eloise Matilda. Eloise Matilda has her own history but lately, at least before Billy and Bob the Ball brothers were taken away leaving Mr Winkie on his own, she was Rocco's 'girlfriend', She was so much his girlfriend that after one of his trysts with her we were careful not to touch her until her fur dried. Since the removal of the Ball brothers Rocco prefers a plush reindeer which is softer and floppier than Eloise Matilda.

I head out of my craft room this evening, go to step over Rocco but am caught up short, staring. Rocco is sprawled on the floor, head on the reindeer, butt on the pillow I use for my leg, body on the green plaid material that Older Son uses for a kilt at the Ren Fest and sprinkled all around him......


silver glitter......



big chunky silver glitter.


I had no idea that I even had big chunky glitter, but leave it to Rocco to find it.

I suppose this means that he was always meant to be my dog. After all I do believe that if it ain't glittered, it ain't art.

Oh this job is soooo hard

Another Wednesday alone in the office. SO much work so hard I only had time to make 11 pairs of earrings. No fooling. 11 pairs all including crystals in the mix. I really did have work to do but did it so quickly I could just play around for the rest of the afternoon. Devil woman still hasn't cleared everything out of the office. She's dragging it out as long as she can. She has some password that I need. When asked she said that the password for one site would work with the second. It doesn't. Then when asked again, the password was at home. Why? She leaves her mug, knife fax machine etc and takes the password home? I may not be paranoid. She may be out to get me. And now I'm going to make matters worse.
A friend and co investor of the husband's asked if he could hire me to get his files in order. Apparently the husbvand has been raving about how smoothly everything is now working and so the co-investor asked if I'd organise his files. I like doing midless stuff like that and told him that I would, but I didn't want any pay for it. And then I discovered that 3 other people tried to organise him and one of those, the one working on it now is..... cue ominous music.... devil woman. Apparently the files are in worse shape than when she started. But she was getting paid for it and now not only did I take 'her; job in the office but her part time job as well.
But wait... it gets worse.
Devil woman rents a two room suite at co-investor's house. In fact co-investor actually rents out the majority of his house, the same house where he keeps his files. Oh lordy I can just see the steam coming out of her ears right now. And those Devil Woman voo doo looks she's so adept at throwing my way. I can't tell co-investor that I won't be doing his files, I never go back on my word and so I should just put on my asbestos undies and hope for the best.

Then I dragged my weary body home to have the dogs jumping for joy at the sight of me. Big dog Rocco ended up on the back of the counch where he perched for a bit cleaning my face and in inside of my ears. Along came old cat Frankie who, I believe, is permanently attached to the back of the couch when she's not crouched before the heat vent or eating. She jumps to the cushion spots Rocco and stops dead. She shoots me a look as if wanting me to explain this but I 've discovered that I cannot explain Rocco. Rocco thought it was a new game. He yawped at Frankie, clacked his jaws shut, moaned at her and promptly fell off the back of the couch. Frankie hadn't even swiped at him. I guess she figured that if she left Rocco alone long enough, he'd fall off the couch on his own. Wise cat.