I have seriously lost my mind

Picture this.
I get into my car with a grunt and much carefully moving of my body... this crazy winter on again off again weather is havoc on my tender fibro'd body. So there I sit, blinking away tears of pain and I see this shopping cart come rolling by all on its own. No packages no person, just this shopping cart rolling along the main aisle, picking up speed but its course is straight and true. And what do I do? Do I run out there and nab the sucker before it alters course and rolls into someone else's car... oh no not me. I shout, and I do mean shot.... Run free little shopping cart, run free....
As if there's a herd of wild shopping carts grazing behind the super fresh and my cart is running to meet them.

And here I was wondering if I really needed my prozac. I guess I had my answer.


I wonder if herds of shopping carts are territorial. We definitely know they have a pack mentality because you usually see them in clusters and it's a rare cart that choose to wander off on its own.... unlike mannequins who are much more solitary and prefer out of the way places. I mean, why would these bubbas on the real crime shows claim that when they were up to the jock straps in swamp water huntin gators or whatever and they stumble across a dead body the first thing they think is that its a mannequin. I mean why else would there a a mannequin in the swamp in the first place if they were herd beast like shopping carts and teenagers? Some questions are ment to be pondered and never answered but I do tell you this, with my luck I would see a body floating in the river and get all bent out of shape yelling that there is a body in the river only to have the cops and the fire and rescue and who knows who else and make their way down the bank of the river, to the water to discover that the body was only.... wait for it... wait for it.... a mannequin. I think it's time for bed.

Brother Can You Spare a Dime

or $14,000.00.?
The woman from the second mortgage company called today wanting to know if we had the $14,000.00 so that we could 'buy' our $140,000.00 second mortgage from them. If I had $14,000.00 don't you think we'd be PAYING our mortgage.
And so, that phone call managed to sneak in past all the barriers I've tried to put up to insulate myself from all things negative and the walls they came a tumbling down. So now I'm all weeping and would be all pmsy if I wasn't as old and dirt and PMS went the way of that time of the month. Now I'm in a continual what would be PMS funk. I'm sad and feeling sorry for myself and maybe if I din't hurt so Goddammed badly most of the time I could deal with the rest of the crap. Now I have a knee that's killing me, and my stomach is upset and the rash that would not quit has sprung up on the other leg. Maybe if another birthday hadn't been ignored I could handle it all but comeon now. What if you had a birthday and got only one card and that wasn't even from your family? As for gifts....I disremember what they are. Even when my mother was alive, I was never invited over for cake or something and if I wanted my present I got it only when I took her to lunch for HER birthday. I mean, doesn't it smack of something more than greedy to call your mother and say , Hey, I'm coming to pick up my present, ave it ready. Shouldn't it be more like a I have your gift, when can you come and get it sort of thing. You'd think I'd be used to being ignored on my birthday and there wouldn't be any Christmas gifts for me either if I didn't tell the husband exactly what I wanted or bought it for myself and gave it to him to wrap. Geez, no wonder I'm so blue.

did I mention that I HURT???!!!! Two flights of steep steps to the office each day is starting to look as hard as climbing Mt Everest but Everest has to be easier what with the sherpas and all of that.

And so we are back in the mess we were in before Christmas, and the clients are nowhere to be seen. The husband even had a go around with one of our remaining clients who claimed that since he paid us acertain amount we were now obligated to keep him in his house for as long as we could without seeing another penny from him. THis is a pain in the ass client who pissed and moaned last week telling me that I hadn't emailed him in two weeks when I had just done the email five minutes before AND had proof that I sent him one on the week before that. This guy is the sort that will cause trouble, I can feel it. Our contract makes it very clear that it's a month to month thing and not one lump sum.

I guess it's time to increse the prozac. I wonder if they come in the industrial sized barrel and not a piddling bottle. I certainly need something.


Too bad I don't drink.


Even crafting has hit a crafter's block.


Just call me little Suzie Sunshine.


Where's a pig when you need one?

craft classes

I've tried as well as I can to find some craft group to join only I'm coming up empty. So I thought about classes. I should find some classes and went searching on line. I ran across a polymer clay fest that will be held only about a half hour away from me and I got all excited until I read the cost of this clayapalloza. $350.00 for the weekend. Holy crap! I checked to make sure I wasn't seeing extra zeros where there weren't any and it said $350.00. To play with clay. I also tooka quick look at what is supposed to be taught that weekend and I have to say, I expected much more for my $350.00. I like clay but not THAT much. Even a local-ish stamp store wants $75.00 for a class. Holy crap once again. As for local craft stores... well... I've already managed to master most of what they offer. In fact, I am so done with beads though no suddenly they seem to be the hottest thing. A Local Michaels' even has its own bead room. I suppose I'mm forced to wander as a solitary soul trough the craft wilderness that is Maryland. I wonder if I can convince the dogs that they want to share some crafts. I could teach them how to make a pair of earrings and they could teach me how to hide rawhide bones in my shoes or tear the stuffing out of a stuffed toy with my teeth. No. I think I need actual humans. Dang.

Musing

I think I watch too much TV, I'd put music on while in the craft room but my decent cds are at work and I can never remember to bring them home. So on goes the Tv and I find myself watching anything that isn't on the three major networks. The other night I watched something about little girl beauty pagents but this one was a bit different. Little daughters and their mothers would be competing against each other for the title of Royal Supreme Whatever of the whole wide world. Or something like that. The show focused on three mothers and their daughters and what a trio of doozies they were. There was the white woman with her long gray hair whose talent was twiring a baton. Now WW was a biggish woman and being big myself I hold no prejudice about size HOWEVER biggish women should not twirl batons while dressed in spangly spandex AND have an unspandexed middle and so all the spandexed flab from bottom and top ooshes out in the middle like the ice cream in a melting ice cream sandwich. That was only topped when she appeared on stage in a bathing suit. Now I wiggle and jiggle myself and wouldn't dream of prancing about on stage with so much white flesh exposed that it blinded the judges. Then there was the African American mother whose eyes seemed to be permenetly stuck in the wide open surprised mode. Either that or she had no eyelids. She wasn't bad looking but her constant critcisim of her daughter made me want to reach into the TV and throttle her. The last mother daughter were latina. Mom was beautiful but daughter looked like every other two year old Latina kid I've ever seen. She was adorable but strong minded and did what she wanted to do no matter how much gay daddy tried to coax her into doing something else. Ok now someone will call me a homophobe. I'm not. But this big mincing man MADE his wife and duahgers's costumes, did their hair and makeup and had that prissy voice that you hear on flagrantly gay guys on TV. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had gotten up there AND pranced around. Which brings me to America's Next Top Model or something like that where one contestant was worried that while in a shot at the beach the water would dissolve the tape holding her Mr Winkie in place. Yep... she was a he.

Shees.

Then there's that really weird religious family with the continually pregnant mom and 18 or 19 or 20 kids all whose names begin with J and who claim dancing is a sin.

Not to mention Hitler and the Occult. Is the Shroud of Turin real and the Ovation TV program about the deaf down's syndrome woman who wraps things with strings and fibers and stuff and it's called art. Outsider art which is simply art done for yourself and not for critics or to sell. So now I can call myself an outside artist. It's nice to know where I fit. Of course that means I passed on the reality cow boy show, the monday night sitcoms and Star Trek re runs, not to mention the 80 billionth time that particular law and order episode was on. I just gotta remember those cds tomorrow.

Outside Artist signing off..



Oh and while watching ovation TV I got inspired creatively and did three small collages and started wokring on figures made of stained class pieces with model magic heads. I hav GOT to learn how to take a decent pic.