I wrote my best friend from high school ("Bo") a long, newsy e catching him up on our holiday stuff and the latest. I hope he won't mind if I re-post the bulk of his letter to catch all of you up, too. It started with a poem I read that made me think of him and inspired me to write to him and let him know how it's hangin'. But it goes on to tell him how I managed to "save Christmas" (at least for myself and my new family):

"This poem was in my "Writer's Almanac" daily e for Monday, 27 DECEMBER, 2004 -
It reminded me very much of you (and of Paul too, for that matter... you two have lots of wonderful - in my opinion - things in common, not the least of which - in my opinion - is being so very treasured and respected by me. ;)
I hope that your holidays were lovely and that you and your home-babies were insulated together against midwinter angst*. :)
Ours were very nice and still continuing to be so. we have a new family member (George, the VERY bad swimming psycho kitty) who has made my ongoing xmas project even more fun than it might have been ( *sigh* ). We gave our local fam and friends (along with some of the mail-aways) home-made jewelry, home-made salsa and home-movie type videos (of old family photos with nice fades, etc. and music - moo. Chris' folks all cried. even his relatively stoic, nigh-silent dad, whoa.), but we also made cards explaining that all our big shopping $ was going to be spent on mailing packages to several soldiers (not just mid.east, but world-wide) we've adopted (including a canine and his trainer); as well a project that another soldier is doing called "Hope of Iraq", which is collecting and distributing clothes, toys, school and art supplies, etc. to the children there. he's based in kuwait city, but he sends packages out by convoy to other places, too.
We have actually enjoyed all the shopping - even the terrifying prospect of after-xmas sales turned out to be fun in the light of this venture. we made it as simple and efficient as possible (NO MALL! NO WALMART! MUCH LOCAL SHOPPING! - and library booksales and thrift stores and...) and managed to find lots of inexpensive, useful, fun things that were on all our troops' wish lists - and scheduled in a good Nipponese dinner while we were at it. I am also going through my replicant's photo collection and sharing some of my "pastoral" or "humorous" (those sound like reader's digest anecdote categories, don't they?) pictures that might remind them of home, and some pressed leaf and flower bookmarks, too, 'cause one soldier said they'd love to get those - and LETTERS. They want letters most of all, so we put our "adoptees" names and addresses in our xmas cards, along with link to the site where some VERY nice military families organize all this stuff, so our folks could follow suit if they please.
There’s been no rush to it all either, ‘cause i realized early on that they'll all be flooded with xmas !#$% (as will the mail), so we waited to hit the pre-xmas mark-downs (and i sent 0 xmas items), and will mail the packages off in time to hit the mid-winter, post-xmas blue season. :)
I’ve got all the toys and kid clothes nicely washed already, all my shopping has been divided into each soldiers' box (am just waiting to add the last minute - ie: next paycheck - stamps and snacks) - the small things like safety pins and tea lights into Halloween Ziploc’s, yay - so now I just have to write my letters and get it all packed up nice and fancy.
It feels good to feel so purposeful and useful, to believe that I am making a difference in this bad old beautiful horrible world, especially now. Do you remember if that always made me so happy? I can't remember, but it seems like it must have been that way, but maybe not. I have always been self-absorbed, but hopefully less now, and hopefully not always completely.
Either way, it turns out that I can't really live without it now. Anti-depressants only do so much. If I feel like I am falling down on the job, or that I am losing myself in even a hint of apathy, I can't sleep and I am miserable. My latest temporary therapist (maintenance shrink) said "Sam, you need to slow down." I wanted to say "Don't you remember how it was back in the early fall when I was SO unbelievably, even dangerously unhappy because there was so much bad in the world, and I felt so helpless and hopeless? You made me come up with ideas [which she all thought were too ambitious at the time. psh!] and now here I am making them happen, happy as a mollusk-of-your-choice, and feeling like I am operating at at least some nominal percentage of my capacity ( for a !#$% change - and you're telling me to slow down? HA! :)

And speaking of slowing down... NOT! I don't know if you've read my rant recently (specifically Thursday, December 09, 2004), but I am finally doing comedy onstage. Performing, writing, choreographing, costuming, props, music, all. You can read the rant for the basic details, but the update that hasn't been added is that, after that first show, at our second writers meeting, Tommy - the guy who started this troupe** - said that, in the years that he's been doing this, this meeting was the first time he'd ever felt that this, our dynamic, was what he REALLY wanted. :D :D :D we are all SUCH a good team! Attendance is up; our tips for the last two shows (my first two, Chris' 2nd and 3rd) were record-breaking and TRIPLED the usual tips. We’ve decided to go to a juried comedy festival in Boston in the summer and see if we can make NON-locals laugh and win some $$$ and attention.
We have our next meeting on Jan. 2 and I can't wait. X and I wrote/outlined our sketch over breakfast this a.m. and we think it'll be a hit. It’s a commercial and sketch about the ridiculousness of product names, like: "NEW IMPROVED, ALL NATURAL, LOW FAT, CRANBERRY-CHOCOLATE-DOO-HICKEY-FLAVOURED, MOUNTAIN FRESH ZING!POW!ZAPPO!WHAMMO!SPLASH! - LITE!" our new product that we'll be hawking is called "TOO MANY ADJECTIVES!" and then we'll do a sketch about two people trying to decide between all these products. I get to make labels for 'em - whee!

I thought you'd be interested to hear of my newest adventures - and fear not... my photography is NOT lagging. i did several sets of xmas portraits for some folks, we did three different photo projects this year (including our xmas card), i'm doing our packages project into a photo story for next year's xmas cards, and George and Luna are keeping the snapshot cam hot. Chris also said that he wants to hit an after xmas sale and buy me a nice digi-cam for my 'big' xmas prezzie, so there's that to look forward to, too! :)
The art's not suffering either. I made x his own wish-book for xmas, i made 18 pieces of jewelry, several wreaths and arrangements, and one commissioned sketch for a friend, too.
Yes, I’m tired, but it's a good tired. i can sleep at night at least, and peacefully, usually. I’m still haunted - and yes, it's been worse than even usual since the whole war started (basically since the Florida election crap, but it has escalated badly since the twin towers horror) - but it's manageable. I’d rather eventually be locked up for obsessive "Unbreakable" compulsion than for the horrible depression that apathy brings on.
I also make time for myself within what I’m doing. I’ve always been a "multi-tasker". I’m learning how to make my hyper-vigilance and hyper-activity work for me. When I’m doing small tedious work like jewelry, or when I’m drawing or sorting and packing, I watch movies that I’ve seen a million times and still love, so that I can be in that world while I work. I must admit, if it's a looonnnnng, drawn-out job, "Pride and Prejudice" (the BBC with *sigh* Colin Firth, yes, ala Bridget Jones' Diary) is my top fave. And then when there's a pause in my work and I can do what I please, I take long baths and then pile up on the couch with the beasts and x and my new electric blanky couch throw that Joe and his wife sent for ChristmaKwanzukkahYule and some tea masala and ginger thins and get deeeeeeeeeply lost in my 'catchup' films - the strange (Cecil B. Demented, 13 Moons...), the foreign (Hundstage - !!!!, the Five Obstructions...); The mooshy and brilliant (Walter, the Station Agent - I have a crush on Peter Dinklage, can you tell?) etc. - and of course I read my head off whenever I have a chance. I was gifted with "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" by Jonathan Safran Foer for yule, and I am already completely immersed in the story. I LOVED 'everything is illuminated'. If you haven't read it, I think you would like it. It sounds like Julia and I enjoy some of the same reading too, so pass the title on to her as well, if she hasn't read it already.
[Note to other readers – all of our xmas gifts this year were especially thoughtful, useful and lovely. some of my favorites are the aforementioned electric ‘throw’ that Joe and Ellie sent us for snuggling all together on the couch in my cold, old house; Chris gave me a beeee-yooo-tiful stainless steel percolator*; the riddles gave us PILES of happy stuff, but I was especially pleased with my Discman and a GREAT book; Jen gave me a beautiful handmade bag o’ goodies – along with a handmade book that she FOUND – at THRIFT – for a DOLLAR!; Andi gave me THE phattest pair of warm fluffy pj’s, navy flannel with little stars and plaid cuffs and pockets; Stewart gave me ‘The art of the Discworld and some gossip that did my heart good; Chris’ grandma and aunt and uncle gave us lots of lovely things too, but Agnes’ impromptu clavinova concert while we had desert and coffee was my favorite; and Dan gave me one of the best books I’ve ever read (bonus, it cost him nothing, and is the advanced reader’s copy!) lovely xmas – thank you all!]

OK! Enough news. Sorry. I always end up catching up in a torrent. I will continue on with checking my e's and trying to look busy, and leave you to your poem.
You live in my heart, Mr. King [in the photo, he's the one all the way back right! Yes Bo, I "Googled" you!], you and yours.
Much love, and BAJILLIONS of wishes for a VERY good new year for all of you in the L.A. branch of Clan King, as well as to your Gulf of Mexico folks. [and all of you in Blog Reader Land, too!]
Take care, and don't be surprised if you have me as a neighbor again before you know it... X has been receiving e's from a director he worked with last summer with lots of job posts out there. he's been talking about it a good bit. He’s going to try to get TV work here first (editing, he hopes, but he can do it all, even sales) for a while, and then see what happens before he (WE - eee!) make that scary leap... we shall see!
xoxoxoxoxox
-Sam

Listen (RealAudio) How to listen
Poem: "This is How Memory Works" by Patricia Hampl, from Resort © Carnegie Mellon University Press. Reprinted with permission. (by Writer's Almanac)

This is How Memory Works
You are stepping off a train.
A wet blank night, the smell of cinders.
A gust of steam from the engine swirls
around the hem of your topcoat,
aroundthe hand holding the brown leather valise,
the hand that, a moment ago,
slicked backthe hair and then put on the fedora
in front of the mirror with the beveled
edges in the cherrywood compartment.
The girl standing on the platform
in the Forties dress
has curled her hair, she has
nylon stockings - no, silk stockings still.
Her shoulders are touchingly military,
squared by those shoulder pads
and a sweet faith in the Allies.
She is waiting for you.
She can be wearing a hat, if you like.
You see her first -
that's part of the beauty:
you get the pure, eager face,the lyrical dress, the surprise.
You can have the steam,
the crowded depot, the camel's-hair coat,
real leather and brass clasps on the suitcase;
you can make the lights glow with
strange significance, and the black cars
that pass you are historical yet ordinary.
The girl is yours, the flowery dress,
the walkto the streetcar, a fried egg sandwich
and a joke about Mussolini.
You can have it all:
you're in that world, the only way
you'll ever be there now, hired
for your silent hammer, to nail pictures
to the walls of this mansion
made of thinnest air.

xo
-s
"It was all merely a desperate attempt to escape the kitsch that people wanted to make of her life." -The Unbearable Lightness of Being - M. Kundera

*our letters crossed in the 'net, and i found out that he and his fiance were having a very tough time with her health - she is kicking thyroid cancer's ass - but that she is ok now, everything looking good, and that their babies (Dodger and Dakota - pups) and they are happy and doing well.
**and a complete !#$% GENIUS. I really admire him. We all do.
***I’m just not too crazy about pressed coffee, and I have no room for an electric drip thingy.

Blah humbug…

On Sunday I was trying to get some things done around the house. Chris was running errands, and I had a moment to sit and think. I realized that I was feeling down, and so I took advantage of my productive mood and made a list of the top 11 things that were making me feel depressed. Top of the list was the meds, then there was winter, the holidays, the world situation*, etc. After I made my list, I wrote the dream solution, the % possibility for achieving that solution, the % probability for achieving it, what’s in the way, and what I must do in order to just maintain health and sanity. It really does help to see it all in black and white**. I also read it to Chris when he got home, as a sort of no- nonsense ‘state of the union’ address. He was depressed that ‘boy stuff’ was even on the list.
Psh. Men.

One of the things that came to light is how much I resent the deviation from the true meaning and purpose of Yule and midwinter celebrations. Not just those, but all the seasonal celebrations that have become just another excuse to spend money at Ye Olde WalMallBingoJingoKMartVille. It makes me so sad that everyone gets down about the holidays. No one seems to look forward to it anymore – not even the kids, for fear that they’ll be disappointed. People talk about remembering ‘the reason for the season’, but even before Jesus came along, there were celebrations the entire world over during this season, and I believe that the church chose this time of the year to celebrate Jesus’ birthday because of the original purpose of this holiday season.
People say “Oh! Where’s your holiday spirit, y’old Scrooge?” but the fact of the matter is that it’s WINTER. Life is harder, food is more scarce, traveling is harder, the skies are grey and yukky, and frankly, it’s !@#$ COLD! Seasonal Affective Disorder sets in, bills go up, the whole “holiday happiness myth” weighs on the hearts and heads of normal people, old family memories surface… if you ask me, the people who are deeply cheerful and happy this time of the year are just on better drugs than everybody else.

The real, original reason for the cold-time holidays is to help everybody make it through the winter. That’s why when our grandparents tried to convince us that getting an orange, an apple and a hand full of nuts in their stocking was a BIIIIIG deal, we should have listened. In those days certain fresh fruits and vegetables were really hard to get, and quite expensive, (especially in some cases, depending on where you lived) even in the summer time. So to receive such a treat in the dead of winter was a remarkable and treasured gift. Candy, too. Meals in general, in fact, in a lot of households, so that mid-winter feast and all those treats and goodies (mmmm, Aunt Sissy’s divinity…) was the height of sharing, compassion, and laughing in the face of harsh winter. It was a way of saying “We all worked so hard in the fall that we can afford this feast, we believe that spring will come again, so we can risk this feast, and we love our friends, family and neighbors, so we are willing to share our best.”
This is the same reason that gifts like socks and sweaters, mufflers and hats, and other warm things meant so much. It was a way of showing that, even though people worked so hard during the day, just trying to survive and make some comfort, they still spent their precious evening hours and candlelight working on something to improve the quality of a loved one’s hard life. Bright hand painted pictures, scenes of green meadows and sunshine, a quilt patterned with spring colors - these things brought another kind of warmth, and the reminder that these colors WILL return to our lives. Hand-poured or –dipped candles to light the long nights, cookies or hard-candies that used a good bit of the staples (not to mention precious dried fruits, etc), a good pair of boots to make it through the snow, hand-made snow-shoes, or even a scrap doll or wooden toys to give the children something to do in the evenings when the wind is howling outside like a pack of hungry wolves.
This spirit is the reason we give gifts to this day. How have we come so far from that?

Think before you buy the Chia pet*** or the ‘Sweater Shark’ or the ‘Billy Bass’. Could you spend that same amount of money and buy some actual happiness? A board game to relieve the cabin fever? Craft kits or supplies? A nice pair of stripey long socks? Some good coffee and snacks to go with it? Or better yet, find something that you can do that is practical and thoughtful. Everyone has some skill that is useful, and you never know how creative you can be with what you have until you really explore that. Come over the week before Christmas and offer Mom a whole day of your time to help clean or move things or cook (following her instructions of course, if you can’t cook) or wrap gifts. Offer dad a “clean the garage/shed” day, or to take him to do something anti-Christmas and get him out of the madness for a few hours. Offer to drive someone into shopping hell and help carry packages; babysit for a friend so they can go out into the madness without having to worry about baby too; offer to assist in their own Christmas crafting. Maybe you have home repair skills? Maybe you can sew? Maybe you’re good at cleaning cabinets? There is definitely a way that you can give of yourself and of your time and skills, and give your loved one something that will mean more to them than a mugwarmer ever could (unless you’re Tobie.). Ask them what would mean a lot to them and do it!
I think you’d find yourself feeling a whole lot better about the holidays, and maybe even about yourself and the people around you.

Practicing what I preach and
Much love,
-s


*I honestly felt guilty that this one was only #6.
** It’s also nice to know I’m still getting a lot of benefit from all that expensive therapy.***Not that I know anyone who would, but even there is a little bit of green and growing in the dead winter, and I think the sprouts are edible too?

Well, to keep up the whole “moosh-factor”, I’d just like to say here that living with George Huxley Riddle*, our cute new kitty is like… well, like…
…
…LIVING WITH AN INSANE FERRET!!!
Let me tell you folks, this cat is a psycho weasel-beast from Watabungi**!
I’ve had other cats. My senior year of high school, I had a little white cat and a little black cat named ‘Crockett’ and ‘Tubbs’”***. They mostly stayed outside, and I didn’t live there for very long, so I don’t remember much about them. Then in junior college, dad and Shirley let me feed a couple of stray kitties, both black with white trim, named Jenny-fur and Lucy-fur. They were outside cats too, same deal. I guess they wandered off after I moved into the dorm.
When I was at USM, I got another black cat named Nephilim. He lived inside and I knew him well, but he was fairly sane. He played with string and toy mice, got into a little trouble every now and then, and fell in the tub once, but overall seemed like a normal cat.
I adopted him out when I moved into a place where I couldn’t really keep him. Then we had Logan, who grew into an ENORMOUS, poofy**** cat. Logan was weird in that he liked to watch ice skating… hm… (see ****) and could beat up wild animals, but he was otherwise your average, playful, lazy, stately cat. He went to live with Ronnie and Heather at their Cat Farm when we moved into our apartment. Then came Ra and Set. They were two sweet tabby brothers who came to stay briefly until I found them a home with a lonely elderly lady – just normal, playful kittens.
Then there was Cat, and she was CAT incarnate. Stately, graceful, bitchy, spoiled. She wasn’t too crazy about most people, she kept Luna in her place (and frankly scared the bejesus out of her too) and played a good bit, stalk, hunt, and chase; she liked things on strings, and loved to bird watch – normal cat.
Not Our George.
This morning (after he got in the tub with me again. I thought he’d stop after I sank him yesterday…) he was tearing around the house like a maniac. He tried to attack Luna several times – she ignored him. When she got up on the foot of the people bed, he got in her bed on the floor. She got up, rousted him out and under our bed. When she got back up and comfortable again, he came out and got right back in her bed. Repeat process. SEVERAL times.
Last night as I was trying to write in my journal, they decided to play “chase the evil kitty around mom’s chair”. I had a good time watching Luna watch me try to teach George “sit” and “stay”. She was very amused. I was exploring the concept “futile”.
After that, I made a bed on the floor. My back was hurting, and I thought a night on the floor in front of the heater would do me good (it did – I slept better than I’ve slept in WEEKS, maybe even MONTHS). As soon as I got situated in the dark, and got my covers and pillows just right, I heard “brrrrrrump, brrrrrrrrump, Brrrrrump, BBRRRUMP!” and then catrunningrightacrossmyface “brrrrump, brrrrump, brrrrump…”.
"!&#$-*%#! IT, GEORGE! GYAH!!!" (cuss, cuss, cuss...)
Another moment, then “brrrrrrump, brrrrrrrrump, Brrrrrump, BBRRRUMP!” and then catrunningrightacrossmyface “brrrrump, brrrrump, brrrrump…”
*sigh *
I think this happened three times before he got distracted and went to tweak elsewhere.
I told Chris this morning that I think he has a tiny little meth lab under the spare-room bed. He’s constantly climbing on things, knocking things over, jumping straight up into the air for no reason whatsoever or doing that weird, arched-back, sideways-hop Halloween cat/weasel thing, attacking Luna’s tail, fighting with everything in the house, whether it moves or not. His favorite toy currently (other than Luna) is a shoulder pad cut out of a silk shirt. He fights with it and carries it around in his mouth. The only problem is that it’s much bigger than his head and he carries it by the center seam of the shoulder pad. He can’t see around it, so he walks with this strange stagger, his head moving like someone with palsy on speed, trying to see around the pad. And he has two speeds: on and off. If he’s not harassing someone or something, or just running and jumping, then he’s either unconscious on a convenient blanket, chair or person, or completely invisible (as well as apparently deaf). Sometimes, he just disappears. My house is really tiny, and the first time he did this, we panicked. We looked EVERYWHERE. We called, we got flashlights, we scoured every inch of the house, and looked all over the yard – Luna couldn’t even find him. We even opened sardines and still no George. Two hours later, he wandered into the dining room like he’d never been gone. We think he’s built some sort of time capsule or space-bending machine – possibly next to the meth lab – and that he just goes interdimensional occasionally. Can you say “John Whorfin” folks?
I’m pretty sure he thinks of us as “Monkey-boy" and "-girl”

The little weasel is constantly under my feet – or my @$$. I have to look where I walk, where I sit, and I have to be extra careful when I turn over in bed for fear of crushing him. He tries to climb on me (or down my pantslegs) when I'm onna potty; when X wakes up in the morning and tries to skwooch me we always hear “MEOW!”, ‘cause George sleeps between us; and I can’t take my bath without the little beast walking out on me like I’m an island or a dock there for his convenience. He tries to climb in the refrigerator every time we open it, he is guaranteed to try to get through any door we open - especially if it leads to the magical, mystical outside; and goddess forbid you accidentally drop anything on the floor.

The freakiest thing of all is that we think it’s great. There is an energy in the house that wasn’t there before. We all have something to focus on other than ourselves. Chris can put aside his school and work worries for a little while, I can forget about feeling bad for a while, and Luna can forget about being lonely all the time. Sure, there’s a litterbox to clean again, and there are going to be new vet bills and concerns, but there’s more love in the house, and certainly more acceptable chaos (which Chris craves). Not to mention the sheer entertainment value.
Who knows, maybe he’s here to help me learn patience.
*sigh*
We shall see.
Wish us luck and
Much love,
-s

*George Orwell, Aldous Huxley, Chris Riddle
**Luna is the "Devil Dog of Watabungi"
***I also briefly had a brown puppy and a blonde puppy named ‘Rico’ and ‘Sonny’ – yes, I was a die-hard MV fan, so sue me.
**** - in more ways than one. He preferred the ‘intimate company of other boy kitties all of his days.

"John Whorfin" images courtesy of World Watch Online - What a great site, BB fans!

Ugh, let me off this medicine-go-round….
...I’m DEFINITELY going to be sick.

About two months ago, my doc put me on a new psychoactive drug. I was having some fairly serious depression problems*, and the milder brain candy I’d been on previously, prescribed to help with sleep issues related to the FMS, wasn’t cutting through. This new drug worked a treat, as far as the whole ‘happy pill’ issue went. It alleviated the worst of the depression without numbing me down or making me feel distant from the issues that were making me sad in the first place. All good, right? Yeah – except for the fact that my constant friend Mr. Headache and his paramour Miss Physical Tension started getting even busier, I started waking up several times during the night, and had an upset stomach every day, all day. So, we changed meds and I have gone from bad to worse. Depression is returning, stomach is worse, I am sleeping very fitfully, if at all, and whether it’s the meds or the onset of winter, the pain has returned with a vengeance. My appetite is crap, and when I do get hungry, all I want is mashed potatoes. Thank Goddess** for KFC, y’all.

So this morning I woke up sick as a cat, facing a 12 hour day. Today is the day of Saluda’s “Hometown Christmas” stroll, when all the stores stay open late, put out lovely trays of treats and have musicians and storytellers to entertain visitors and (hopefully) shoppers. Normally this is a nice prospect, because even though it’s a long day – and I have a long day on Saturdays too – I still enjoy the strange informality of cookies and cider and musicians in the library, seeing my regular patrons tipsy and rosy, and of course having a chance to wander the street and nibble the goodies too. But I have to admit, I woke up this morning queasy, exhausted and just plain grumbly. Bleh.
I put on a red sweater and some leggings, some glitter (of course) and tied a sparkly red ribbon in my hair, hoping that even if I couldn’t feel festive, I could at least try to look it.
I made it through most of the day without dying or killing anybody, and Chris brought me some mashed potatoes. Mm. I even fell asleep on the hall floor for about five minutes during my late lunch. Around 2:30 though, I realized that I was not going to make it through the whole day without a small nap. I called and asked if I could leave, called a volunteer who was kind enough to come in, got X to take me home and get the Evil One out of the room and caught a glorious, even though it was a little fitful, 40 minute nap. That made all the difference. When I got back, the library was busy, our storyteller was here, the kids were out of school, and I had to start setting up the area for the entertainers and the food.
By the time everything got under way, with the children sitting on the floor giggling at Merrie’s EXCELLENT storytelling, Elaine and Rob’s nice and slightly lounge-y Christmas tunes setting the mood, the smell of hot cider wafting through, and people wandering in wearing their Christmassy garb, I’d begun to laugh and feel a little better too. When the library closed for business (meaning circ functions), Margaret and Scott left to check out the shops and music and food, and I stayed and kept an eye on the libob. Stewart came down and made his usual “flatter the pretty ladies” round, and by the time he made it back here, Margaret and Scott had come back to relieve me, and I hit the street.
I watched the kids singing on the Front Porch – some of them even stopped singing long enough to yell ‘HI!’, then wandered on down main street. I stopped in at the Police Station (they always have shrimp) and had another one of my “could my life be any MORE bizarre and serendipitous” coincidences which led to my good deed of the day***. I went into Heartwood to say hi to Juliana, and then mosied down to the Wildflour for the snacks I KNEW I could eat and some gossip and a nice toasty coffee beverage. Ahem.
Everyone was smiling and laughing, there were clusters of people standing around, laughing and balancing children and puppies. Music was everywhere, and good smells and twinkling lights… even people (left and !@#$ right!) telling me that I looked like a ‘little elf’ couldn’t phase me (I guess ‘cause they said “little” :) . People all stopped to speak to me, the children were wandering in their usual pack formation, and when I met up with them, the pack closed around me as if I were one of them…
It was nice.

And here I’d started out the day feeling horrible and dreading all of this. Margaret too came to work in a humbuggy humor, and by the time the evening got under way, she was laughing and sparkling too. I could put this all down to Christmas spirit, but I think it’s more than that – I think it’s community spirit. That’s something that Saluda has that seems to be truly lacking in a lot of places. I wish everyone could feel what it’s like to be such an intrinsic part of such an amazing place. Yes, it’s a small southern town – yes, there’s gossip and that sort of thing, but honestly, it’s surprisingly low-key. You all read my rant, you’d know if I had complaints about the whole “small town” thing. I don’t. This really is a special place, and – whether I like it or not – I really do fit in here. When I feel bad, people care. If something’s wrong, they try to fix it. People here pull together, pitch in, and stand up for each other. If I feel good or look good, people notice. And if I !@#$ up – they are surprisingly forgiving**** It’s also a town full of artists, musicians, environmentalists, LOTS of people living “alternative lifestyles”, and of course your average hillbilly type country folks, too (who really aren’t average in any way, but you know what I mean…) I think if something serious or bad were to happen to me, on a big scale, people would try to help, or stand up for me (they certainly have in the past). They've offered me places to stay in bad weather, or when my house was out of order; they've given me air purifiers and dehumidifiers for my house, to help with my allergies; they've sent me notes when I was down or having a hard time; they've shared their lives, food and money with me at times, and they trust me with their children.
I think my holiday wish for all of you is that someday you will know this good feeling. I share it with you in the only ways I can, by writing about it, and sharing the goodness that is shared with me, but I wish for you all to be at the heart of it someday, even if just for a little while. I think the feeling I’ve gotten from having a whole town as a “family” is something I will always carry with me, wherever I go.

Much love,
-Sam

*No surprise to you, faithful readers, eh?
**In this case, it’s definitely Goddess, ‘cause y’all KNOW it was a female spirit that was responsible for mashed potatoes – and gravy too, for that matter, not to mention Shiraz and Godiva. I’ll give God the credit for things like barbecued ribs, good cold beer and redwood trees. And if there’s a Devil, I’ll say he is responsible for panty hose, underwire bras, and video games.
***if you want to know, ask me and I’ll tell you, but I won’t say here ‘cause of ‘legal issues’. ****Boy, did I prove that one true right off the bat! Hoo-wee! When I first came here I was semi-inadvertently involved in a scandal of fairly epic proportion, and people just laughed it off, or made the best of it, or sympathized with me. It was truly incredible. At least I got that out of the way first thing, eh?

"So, this Nun walks into a bar with a pig under one arm and a watermelon under the other..."

Well, faithful readers - last night I fulfilled another one of my lifelong dreams…
...no, Vin Diesel didn't knock on my door, wearing a wife beater, wet from the heavy rain, needing to borrow my cellphone because his battery was dead, while I was fuming and crying over a terrible fight with Chris and drowning my sorrows in a glass of Shiraz and my 57th viewing of “Iron Giant”…
* sigh *

However, this dream was pretty good too. :)
Since I was about 6, when I used to sneak into the living room after I was supposed to have gone to bed and hide behind the couch while my parents were watching 'Saturday Night Live' and ‘Flying Circus'***, I have dreamed of doing comedy. My close friends (and hopefully my readers, too) well know how high in esteem I hold a good sense of humor. I’ve never liked “Three Stooges” or “Ace Ventura” type stuff either, always preferring a smarter, edgier, “!@#$ authority” kind of comedy – probably thanks to my genetic background, John Cleese’s legs, Michael Palin’s face, and that first season of SNL. I like comedy that cuts to the bone of the real world and shows the ridiculousness of so much (or even ALL) of human society.
I’ve always striven to be funny, and I am proud to say (and everyone I know can vouch for this) that I am never one of those people who thinks “ooh, I wish I’d thought of that snappy comeback” after the fact. I get the subtle jokes, and I top the dumb ones. I have my dad’s knack of knowing the punch lines of most jokes (he claimed he knew them all, but I caught him TWICE! Yeah!). I still get caught out, and a new joke delights me every time. I appreciate the nuances of timing and expression, and there are few things in the world that I love more than making people laugh – especially tough customers…
SO…
…last night I performed onstage with a live sketch comedy troupe! WHEEEEEeeeeeeEEEeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We did some improv, some stage combat, fun costume changes, fast-paced scripted pieces, a big song-and-dance number with jazz-hands and disco sparkles, and a scene that I wrote myself, too. It was INCREDIBLE!
This is the same troupe that Chris and I have been going to see now since our first pre-dating date, the folks who did “The Manor Daze”. They called Chris last week and asked him if we were interested, which was really great because they’d asked him to be in the previous show and I had to admit, I was pretty envious. We had our first meeting/rehearsal on Sunday last (Dec. 5). We went over the two scripts that were already written, and discussed ideas for others. I told them my idea and they said it sounded great. They asked us to come back on Monday evening, script or outline (for improv) and ideas in hand. On Monday night we read through the scripts, I read my idea and it was well-received. We rehearsed the big song-and dance number, and when Liz and Jay showed up we went over their pieces too.
Tuesday we had a short rehearsal in the space – I was feeling pretty puny – which helped a lot with the blocking. I practiced my monologue in the car* and we talked about ideas. When we got home, we finished getting costume stuff together and went over our lines, and then we went to bed, late-ish and nervous-er.
The show was Wednesday – yesterday – at Fred’s Speakeasy in downtown Asheville. Yes, that means three and a half days to write, rehearse, costume and do the entire 9 act, 45 minute show. HOO-AH!
It’s a free show, donations only (and by the way, they broke their record for donations last night! Jessamine was stunned! YAY!!!) so I felt good about begging everybody to come.
X and I went to Wendy’s before the show and had one of my strangest dining experiences yet. The heavily tattooed counter man cracked jokes, a kitchen guy came up and announced over the cashier mic that the restaurant would be leaving for L.A. shortly and that it would be a no alcohol flight. Two little Russian girls were stalking me throughout the meal, peeking around the short wall, smiling sweetly, waving and then running away, and then the employees gave away dozens of free Frosties, so we took ours to Fred’s for Jay, Liz and Tony the Bartender who was sicj and really happy to see a Frostie.
By the time we got to Fred’s, we had about an hour to rehearse. We got final costume touches together – wigs, aprons, etc. I ran my monologue until I felt sure, then we went over “Grandpa’s Surprise” and talked about last minute stuff until showtime. I'd invited everybody that crossed my path (and hunted some people down), so the place was packed. I kept peeking out of the curtain to see who’d arrived (CHRIS’ PARENTS CAME! AUGH! – did I say that this was a VVVEEERRRYYY NAUGHTY SHOW?!?! I invited them and then Chris said “NO WAY!" But he forgot to un-invite them, and I “forgot” to remind him, so… oops! but also YAY, because they laughed their heads off, and it made me fell closer to all of them...) and lots of my folks came. There was Julie Crawshaw, a favorite library patron, Juli-o Dottery** and her VERY cute (red-headed) and seemingly very sweet boyfriend, Erik the Viking (who has a good handshake, btw), Jamie and Erin and Jimmy were there, and my library assistant and her beau – Margaret and Scott. Wendy and her friends came – and they said I was the best thing in the show – THANKS!!! :D
And let me tell you, guys – it really was AWESOME!!!
The opening number was Liz’s monologue. She was dressed VERY convincingly as a man, and did a great bit on how enormously huge, uh, a certain part of her anatomy is. Then I came on with “Cookin’ With Judy!”, a cooking show with tips on how to harvest and prepare free range hippies. I manages to get some good political jokes in there, too. We did a VERY nasty commercial break and came back with Dr. Xavier N!*, who killed a hippie (Chris) and cut out his heart (I made that too). We did 3 “Post Modern Criminal” skits, a very funny one called “Grandpa’s Surprise”, where Grandpa comes home for holiday dinner and announces that he’s gay. I got to play his doped up, stressed out daughter Deidre. We did a very funny improv skit in which I played a waitress with anger management issues (also in which I got the biggest laugh of the show, by the way!!! Wheeheeee!!!), the boys did a hilarious sketch about a double date in prison, and we finished up the show with a funny, flashy, elaborately choreographed disco number called “Friendly Acquaintance”, about those people you sort of know, and then you run into them and you have to try to make small talk – augh! Tommy (sort of the ‘dad’ of the Heavy Duty Crew crew) is a great musician and songwriter, so the piece frankly kicked @$$! It was truly a show stopper. The audience laughed, we laughed – it was, overall, one of the best experiences of my life.
I’d definitely put it up there with driving the Mini-Excavator…

By the way, HDC said that Chris and I were definitely invited back, and before the night was over, the guys had already started talking about future skits with my “Judy” character (!!!) and I can’t think of a higher compliment in this arena.
I will be back – I’m hooked.

Those of you who came, thank you so much. You made my night! And those of you who didn’t – thank you for trying. I’m really sorry you missed it, but only because you missed some really good original comedy and some SERIOUS laughs. There will be other shows, and I promise I’ll do my scene for you if you ask. :) Also, just to rest your minds – if they are ‘unrested’, that is - enough of “my people” came to make me feel like my first show was, well, MY FIRST SHOW!!!**** : ) I’ll definitely let y’all know about future shows, too!

Peace and buckets o'belly laughs*****,
-Sambolina “Judy Wackenheimer” Lovelace (“Luh’vuh’lah’chee”)!


*and in the closet and in the bathroom and at my desk and in the stacks and…
**that’s not really her name, it’s an injoke. Sorry Ju.
***”Night Stalker’ too – what a good show!
****Don’t worry, Stewart didn’t come either. :)*****Jamsx, I REALLY wish you’d been there. You’d have been proud! XO!

...and the crazy motherhood cycle continues...

I have just this moment found out that one of my library babies, one of the first ones that I got really close to, is going to have her own baby.
My head is reeling. I honestly feel faint. This VERY young lady is an amazing artist. She did a huge portrait of me at my desk that not only was in her very first art show, but won an award and touched my heart eternally. When she wanted to drop out of school her freshman year, her mother recruited me to help talk her out of it, and she stayed in. She was dealing with anxiety and agoraphobia issues, and she got some treatment for that, too. That helped with school.
I talked to her about going to on to college, at least Community College, or tech school and working on her art and computer skills, and about seeing some world and some life. I remember saying "before you settle down here with some redneck guy* and have a bunch of babies, get out first - THEN come back and do all that if you still want to..."

I guess I knew. I've thought about it many times since she started dating this guy - the first guy she ever really seriously dated. And I realize now that the last couple of times I saw her, there was a tiny little niggling question at the back of my mind... I realize now that I knew she was. I wonder why she hasn't told me. Maybe she thought I'd be disappointed - and I am... but not in her. Just disappointed for her, I suppose. But I know I shouldn't be. Her friends, who are all a good bit older, are marrying and having babies. If she is happy, then I am happy. Who am I to judge what "having a life" is? I sincerely hope and pray that this IS the life she wants. And maybe, when the baby is older, she will return to her art...
...and I guess the fear of that not happening is really where my disapointment lies - or at least a big part of it.

When I first came here, she was a pre-teen. Snub-nosed, freckle-faced, shy. Now the library is four years old (as of Dec. 1), and this little girl is more than half-a-year younger than my own baby mother was she had me.
Goddess bless her, goddess bless the baby - goddess bless us all.
-s

*not an insult, she like me, knows who she is and where she comes from and is proud of that

Today is the 54th* birthday of the woman who carried me, albeit reluctantly in her tiny body.
Every day I am trying to come to terms with the fact that we will probably never speak or hold each other again. I can give myself the small comfort that she is happy in love, that my brothers and she still have a relationship, that she is young and healthy and beautiful and strong, and that maybe she is comforted by the fact that there is an ache and void in me that will never be filled by anyone else. It's sad to say and to think that someone might be pleased by your pain - especially your mother - but I know this woman fairly well and I can imagine that the thought of that particular pain might bring her pleasure. If there's nothing else that I can give her on her birthday, nothing other than spending the day with my usual constant loss of her magnified to the point of unavoidable sadness, then so be it. It is an honor and a recognition of a sort. She is never forgotten, but especially not on this day.
I have a picture of her, in black and white, she is about 8 maybe, and she is standing on a chair in her mother's dining room. She is wearing an angel costume, a long white shift and a foil halo above her almost white hair. She is beautiful, of course, and has a sweet, proud smile on her face. I joke about the irony of this photo when people see it in my album, but it is dear to me. I also have one of her and her sister standing beside a helicopter. She is younger, maybe 5, and she has a big bandage on her skinny little leg. She is squinting a little, and looking like any child made to pose for a photo when they'd rather be looking at - or knowing my mother, flying in - the helicopter. In this picture it is the bandage that touches my heart. I wonder how she got hurt, and if it left a scar, and if it did, did I ever see the scar as a kid and wonder what happened.
I suppose in time I will have wondered about all these things, her as a child, a teenager, a woman, until she is real to me in some other way and not just this constant ache and lifetime of painful memories. Maybe by being apart we can love each other in a way that our real lives never made possible. Who knows. For now, it's just hurt.

I looked hard to find these poems, and I posted the lyrics to a John Mayer song that means a lot to me too.


Anne Sexton - The Breast

This is the key to it.
This is the key to everything.
Preciously.

I am worse than the gamekeeper's children
picking for dust and bread.
Here I am drumming up perfume.

Let me go down on your carpet,
your straw mattress -- whatever's at hand
because the child in me is dying, dying.

It is not that I am cattle to be eaten.
It is not that I am some sort of street.
But your hands found me like an architect.

Jugful of milk! It was yours years ago
when I lived in the valley of my bones,
bones dumb in the swamp. Little playthings.

A xylophone maybe with skin
stretched over it awkwardly.
Only later did it become something real.

Later I measured my size against movie stars.
I didn't measure up. Something between my shoulders was there.
But never enough.

Sure, there was a meadow,
but no young men singing the truth.
Nothing to tell truth by.

Ignorant of men I lay next to my sisters
and rising out of the ashes I cried
my sex will be transfixed!

Now I am your mother, your daughter,
your brand new thing -- a snail, a nest.
I am alive when your fingers are.

I wear silk -- the cover to uncover --
because silk is what I want you to think of.
But I dislike the cloth. It is too stern.

So tell me anything but track me like a climber
for here is the eye, here is the jewel,
here is the excitement the nipple learns.

I am unbalanced -- but I am not mad with snow.
I am mad the way young girls are mad,
with an offering, an offering...

I burn the way money burns.


Stevie Smith - Mother, Among The Dustbins

Mother, among the dustbins and the manure
I feel the measure of my humanity, an allure
As of the presence of God, I am sure

In the dustbins, in the manure, in the cat at play,
Is the presence of God, in a sure way
He moves there. Mother, what do you say?

I too have felt the presence of God in the broom I hold,
in the cobwebs in the room,
But most of all in the silence of the tomb.

Ah! but that thought that informs the hope of our kind
Is but an empty thing, what lies behind? --
Naught but the vanity of a protesting mind

That would not die. This is the thought that bounces
Within a conceited head and trounces Inquiry.
Man is most frivolous when he pronounces.

Well Mother, I shall continue to think as I do,
And I think you would be wise to do so too,
Can you question the folly of man in the creation of God?
Who are you?


Daughters - John Mayer

I know a girl
She puts the color inside of my world
She's just like a maze
Where all of the walls all continually change
And I've done all I can
To stand on the steps with my heart in my hand
Now I'm starting to see
Maybe it's got nothing to do with me

Fathers be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters, too

Oh, you see that skin
It's the same she's been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she's left cleaning up the mess he made

So fathers be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters, too

Boys you can break
You find out how much they can take
Boys will be strong and boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without warmth of a woman's good, good heart
On behalf of every man, looking out for every girl
You are the god and the weight of her world

So fathers be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters, too
So mothers be good to your daughters, too
So mothers be good to your daughters, too.

I am hoping that today finds you close to your mothers and your daughters, and wishing you happy birthdays and
Much love,
-s


* I think.

Just like life, some good stuff, some bad stuff...

I said I was going to try harder to be more positive - and I mean it, but I also have to be honest and tell y'all that FALLING THROUGH MY BATHROOM FLOOR A COUPLE OF NIGHTS AGO REALLY SUCKED. Not the most cheerful thing to happen to a... rubinesque woman a few days after Thanksgiving, lemme tell you...
To add to the overall suckage of the situation is the fact that I cannot use my bathtub (and I have no shower), because between the weight of the cast-iron tub, the bajillion gallons of water that it holds and my baby-elvis butt, we are talking close to 1,000 pounds, on a floor that is slightly stronger than a melba toast. It was bad enough that my foot just crashed through the floor (and was hanging down in the the VERY scary and cold darkness of the Below the House - with the scary caaaaaaaamel crickets! *shudder*) and left me with a sore ankle (just bruised - thank god for no insulation - I was wearing two pairs of thick socks, some leggings and flannel pj pants) . I think that if I were in the tub and it crashed through the floor and that didn't kill me, then I might have died of a heart-attack. And if THAT didn't kill me, then the embarrassment of some rescue squad having to come pull my big, naked, wet, and most likely badly injured @$$ out of a hole in the crawl space would do me in for sure.
So, we can't do laundry for the time being, and we are having to go to other peoples' houses to bathe right now, and as soon as they start the repair work we'll all have to move to someone else's house altogether. And it's three weeks to Christmas.
*sigh*
I also fear that my landlord is going to attempt to just patch the floor again (it has more patches than it has actual floor as it is, and there are leaks EVERYWHERE...) and that he is also going to raise the rent in order to afford the repairs. Yuck.
I guess it is becoming obvious that we really need to move, but Chris and I just paid almost 500$ to fill up the gas tank, and frankly we couldn't afford to move right now if we wanted to. It's misery.
Sorry.

OK! Positive stuff. George is doing well. He's Luna's new personal trainer. They are having so much fun together. I knew it was all going to be okay when George fell asleep skwunched up to Lu, and when he woke up and started to take his little kitty bath, he also cleaned Luna some and then tried nursing! Luna looked at him like he was crazy, but she didn't move, and when George realized that he was, uh, barking up the proverbial wrong tree, he gave up and went back to bathing and napping.
Also in good news, I am going to be in the sketch comedy show next week! Chris got a guest-star spot last week, and next week we'll both be in it! Yay! FYI, this is a show that happens every-other-Wednesday at Fred's Speakeasy in Asheville at 8:30. It's a sketch comedy ala Saturday Night Live, it's free, and it's funny. COME SEE US!

Well, we stayed up 'till a million o'clock (well, I did. Chris went to bed at like, 995, 000-thirty. Hmph.) last night trying to completely clean out the bathroom and get the house in condition for the work to commence, so I am going to go away and sit somewhere and turn into turnip woman for a little while. I promise, when my brain is not so tired and stressed and furiously trying to just COPE, I will get back to the good stuff.
Much love,
the really not THAT fat - Sam

Hello, good people*. I have some really good, very exciting news, but I will tease y’all and save it ‘til last.
Our thanksgiving was great. On top of having six days off in a row (WHEEE!!!), I had much turkey day goodness. On Sunday Stewart and I went over to the Ponderosa to have dinner with Andi, Brian and Aeryn. Chris had to work, but he took his break and joined us when we sat down to eat. The food was wonderful and the company too. Andi did the big bird** along with stuffing, green bean casserole, sweet potato casserole and home made cranberry sauce. We had Andi’s favorite brown-n-serve rolls, and I made gravy and sautéed squash with bacon. Mm. There was mulled cider, too and Stewart brought banana split stuff. A nice time was had by all.
I spent Monday running errands and paying bills. Got a haircut, met with the Gorees re: pet-sitting. We kept Phoebe and Bob during the week, an easy and pleasant job for sure. Chris got a call on Monday from the Manor Daze folks. They needed an actor for the Wednesday night show. On Tuesday, I spent the day doing some of the preliminary work for the major cleaning job on Wednesday and Chris went to rehearsal. Then on Wednesday, Chris and I spent the day cleaning and winterizing. The house is finally getting to a tolerable level of de-clutterization – YAY! That evening, I went over to his mom and dads’ house and spent a couple of hours with Peggy and Emily, drinking vino and preparing some of the turkey-day goodies. I made ambrosia, mm…After that, Chris came and got me and Em and we went to Asheville to see the show. It was funny, and of course Chris was great.
Thursday we went to Greer to have a MOST excellent dinner with Chris’ aunt Cathy and uncle Jimmy. Grama Agnes was there, and Jimmy’s mama Mimi, plus a couple of the little grandkids and their mom. Man, was that some good food. We also played some Cathedral and Therapy and watched a special on the making of Polar Express – and an A&E bio on (mmmm) Johnny Depp. Thursday evening we went over to Wendy’s for a bit, then went home and hid for the rest of the night.
Friday morning was for errands and shopping (NOT xmas shopping, just household stuff – AND U2’s NEW ALBUM/DVD!!! YAY!!!!!), and then we spent the rest of the day geeking out with Stewart, Jamie, Erin and Sarah at Blue Shadows. Ham sammiches and good snacks were our fare – I bought everyone an éclair from Fresh Market, and Stewart made his yummy spiced pears. The boys played some MagicTG, and then we watched ‘Neverending Story’ – which Stewart had never seen, if you can believe that.
Again, home and hiding, and then - * sigh * - back to work on Saturday.

Ok, ready for the good news?
WE GOT A KITTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
=^..^=
Last Sunday a.m. – a week ago tomorrow – we were driving up to brunch and we passed a house on 176 that had a sheet hanging on the porch, proclaiming “FREE KITTENS!”
We talked about it on the way up, and then through a wonderful brunch (lemon waffles, god!). As we were headed back down the mountain Chris asked if we were going to stop. He said “What if it’s the last one, the little runt? How can we say no?” And guess what?
George, though not a runt in any way, was indeed the last kitten. MOO!
We brought him home and Chris left straight for work. I made him up a little temporary litter box, fixed him a bowl of water and some kitten chow that his foster mom had given us, locked him up in the bedroom/bathroom (my bathroom used to be the back porch, so there’s a window between the bedroom and bath) and left to go to Andi’s.
Since then, he has gotten a real potty and some toys and food. I’ve bought him his booster shots (but am going to wait a couple of weeks before administering, because he’s so little) and gotten him bathed and de-flea’d. We have had some trials getting my sweet, jealous and slightly ailurophobic dog acclimated to this change, not to mention cat-proofing the house. Luna is still a bit miffed, but they have been playing together since the first day. George was born into a house with seven big dogs, so Luna is an automatic friend to him. She was so scared of my cat that she seems confused as to whether to play with him, run from him or eat him, but so far so good. We’ve also been losing some sleep due to middle-of-the-night Calvin-ball tournaments between the two of them and of course the standard ‘what’s that moving under the covers’ kitten attacks, but it’s worth it. Lu is definitely NOT lonely any more, and that sad place that was left in my heart after Cat died is soothed a little, too. I had forgotten how sweet it was to have a cat curl up against you, and how very much I have missed Herself.

I wanted to give y’all the little diary update and tell you our good news, but I will get back to the previous post subject, never fear. I have an especially cool news tidbit to share about some “fallout” (the good kind) from my last post. The past is a restless ghost, but sometimes it comes with good news.
: )
Much love and leftover turkey,
-Sam


*Hi to all you stinkbugheads too. ‘Don’t want anybody to feel left out. ;)
**AGH! WE ATE BIG BIRD!

Operation: Make the World a Better Place – Phase 2:

I celebrate my friends and other nice people I meet out in the world here pretty often, but not often enough. It’s easy to complain about things here, and I don’t intend to stop that altogether, ‘cause frankly, I need a safe vent. I have been and will continue to try harder to really think about what I say here before I go ahead and say it, but this is my “rant” and I don’t feel that there is ANYthing in me that is too ‘bad’ for this place. nyah.
:p
However, I do think that there is more that I can do, so I am going to start regularly* using this forum to talk about the good people I meet and their good deeds, large and small, so that maybe we can all be reminded that it’s not all bad, that there is lots of good, wherever you look – if you look.

The kindness of strangers...
Last Saturday was the day I woke up with my eye swollen shut, feeling terrible. Chris had to take me to the hospital, and work was out of the question. I felt like Quasimodo, I must’ve looked a terrible, icky mess. Nonetheless, a lady in the CVS where I was picking up my eye drop prescription saw me leaning against Chris near the pick-up counter, and stopped to say “Oh, you look like you feel bad” in a sweet and soothing voice, and patted my shoulder and said “Take care.”
Moo. Most people would walk on by, simply out of self-preservation, and who could blame them? You never even really notice that people just walk on by. It’s just what people do. But as soon as she offered me that small kindness, I felt flooded with the warmth of her genuine concern. I instantly felt better. I thanked the lady on the spot, and it caused me to really consider the difference those little gestures can make.

The good side of the medical profession...
For that matter, the staff at Pardee hospital is a crew that always goes out of their way to make you feel a little better. They are friendly and devoted and often funny, too. As bad as going to the hospital is, it’s worth the drive to go to Pardee for the extra-special care. They aren’t the only nice ones, either. I’ve known good doctors and nurses all my life, people who go out of their way to ease and soothe your pain and fear. People like beloved Dr. Asemi who did my appendectomy when I was 13 and in need of more than just surgery; one nurse in particular at the Urgent Care in Hattiesburg who took such good care of me when I was suffering from horrible vertigo the week of Dad and Robbie’s deaths… I can instantly recall dozens of memories of kindnesses given in the worst of times by these devoted people over the years.

Small sacrifices...
Last Sunday, we went to brunch. It was before my flu symptoms had kicked in, but my eye was really bad, and I was feeling pretty yuck. Our waitress was also a friend of ours and I warned her not to get too close. She sweetly and tactfully complied, and went on with her busy business. There was a large table of elderly ladies, from the North (ahem) behind us and they were being incredibly obnoxious to this young lady. At one point, she had to leave her tables to cry. I got up and found her (still trying to keep a safe distance) and said something to let her know that I saw and sympathized, and also made her laugh.
When she returned to her tables she stopped at ours, and carefully and gently gave me a sweet little hug, despite my cooties. Bless you and thank you for that sweetness, Miss E.

It's surprising when some people go out of their way...
There’s John, the man who let me drive his mini-excavator, despite possible risk, and made my day, and there’s Michael, the construction foreman who asked him for the favor on my behalf, not to mentioned stopped his important work to cut my kitchen pipes for me...

Taking a moment from a busy schedule...
My friend Bill, a wonderful (and very busy) person and skilled plumber who took my calls all throughout that frustrating job, patiently listening to my “curvy thingy with the loop” kinds of descriptions, answered all my questions, and then came by to help me be sure that it was done properly, and for no more pay than a cup of Darjeeling...

The web of distant friends...
There’s my friend Will, patiently plugging away at his own complicated life, struggling with his own serious issues, and yet finding time to be concerned and supportive of all his crazy friends...

Dear, dear far away Teddy, who always thinks of me, even when I am a million miles away for a long, long time, who somehow knows when I am struggling and rises to the occasion, whether with some digital silliness, legos for the broken little girl in me, birthday goodies, easter baskets, or random packages of awesomeness. Teddy who knows me better than a lot of people who see me every day and still loves me and calls me BelleBoi after all these billion years…

...And the Strangeness of Kinders...
…The Geek Patrol, on the whole, with all their sundry gentle madnesses. Specifically today, I’ll celebrate Ken’s fierce protectiveness for his “family” and desire to get and keep everyone together; Tobie’s generosity and elemental “fun” power; Mike’s dogged devotion to even the most scandalous of us, and continued effort to keep me in the loop;
Jen and Burt’s loving generosity; Jen’s ‘Warrior Queen’ defense of her “family” (between Ken and Jen, we ain’t got NO worries!) and brave ability to say exactly what she thinks and still manage to keep it loving and productive; Darrel’s surprising and charming vulnerability – some people give presents or help and advice (and D. does those, too), but D. gives something rare – his trust, and a bucketful of exuberance to boot (me, Tobie, Darell, “Fun Elementals” and Triple-Headed WonderBeast). There’s Greg, with his unchanging sweetness and kind words; Chris, who just makes you feel better by being near you, like a contact high; Bec with her admirable queen-like traits, who makes you feel good just by noticing you and offering you a cat smile; Kaysha, who is Grace incarnate and constantly offering words or hugs or gifts that make you feel like a hobbit who just gotten the Light of Numenor (or even some really cool rope!); and all the other Geeks too, who go out of their way to make the world a better place for the people they love as well as setting an example for the whole world on how to be yourself, unflinchingly, without regret, and indeed with great pride for being so singular, and great pride in being part of such an amazing and unique collective.

Please, if you read this and aren’t on this list, don’t feel forgotten. There is only so much time today, but I intend to keep doing this. It’s a way to thank you all for your kindnesses, yes, but it’s more for the purpose of pointing out some of the good in this world, of hopefully inspiring everyone to do more, to try harder, and to consciously honor the kind people in your own world, and maybe to just remind myself that there IS good, and there is lots worth living and fighting for.

Phase three – Operation “SAVE CHRISTMAS!” coming up soon!
Much love,
-Sam


*well, as regularly as I ever do ANYthing…

Warning, I've hatched a plan...

Alright, enough griping – for now. Instead, I am going to try to work a little more of the philosophy of a group of my all-time heroes, one of the greatest collectives of scholars and thinker, nay artists, this world has ever produced and try a little harder to always look on the bright side of life*

I raised hell last week about not loving each other and ourselves enough. Well, the crows have come home for the holidays – or some similar, slightly nonsensical old-farmer’s saying, like ‘if I were a physician, I might be facing a malpractice suit on myself’ or ‘maybe I should try practicing what I preach while I’m in the pulpit.’

So, my first contributions to this cause are that I am going to see what I can do to make it easier for people to do good things for each other and for themselves, and find ways to help people fight these terrible dragons that we are all talking about these days. Some of the things I plan to do are going to take a while. I have to try to cajole Stewart into giving me some of his office time so that we can alter my page to accommodate this plan, but I can go ahead and share my plans with you now. Maybe some of you can help me add to this as I go along. The more the merrier.
I intend to create a new section on Day Off just for the purpose of giving myself and others ideas and avenues for easy ways to help other people, support our soldiers, support our country and yet let it be known that we are not happy with the status quo.

Three things inspired this idea. Chris told me about a postcard campaign during the Vietnam war, people printed and mailed thousands of postcards to the White House, pleading for peace. I think that’s a wonderful idea, because not only is it an inexpensive mass message, that could flood the White House mailroom with something that can’t go un-noticed, but it would also flood our postal system with much needed revenue and help the economy in some small way. I am going to design a series of postcards, with the white house address already added, and put them up in a printable format so that people can print them out and send as many as they please. I may also attempt to raise enough money to have a thousand or so printed up so that I can give them out and leave them in places where people might pick them up and send them on. I think there are a few places in Asheville that might put some on their counter, and I could hand them out to folks who don’t read my page (yet!). That way they can share the web address with friends and go print and mail even more.
I will certainly "keep you all posted", aha, aha, ha. **

My good friend Carol told me about a site called “Operation Military Pride”
“Operation Military Pride is a volunteer organization with a wide range of activities – all which are to boost the morale of our troops deployed overseas. We not only send cards, letters and care packages ourselves, but also distribute troop names and addresses to patriots wanting to send cards, letters and care packages to troops. We are one of the very few groups that allow direct contact with a service member, eliminating the middle man and expenses.”
- from the “About us” section of the OMP web page.

They also offer public events and support every branch of the military service, no matter where they are deployed. They support civilian service staff as well as the animals that deploy with service men and women, with their “Kindness to K9s” program.
They offer a variety of programs and ways to help, like “Books for the Brave” (new and used paperbacks), “Holidays Hearts” (items for the current holiday), “Mission Relief” (stress relief items), and “Women in Uniform” (items for female troops), as well as many others. They make it quite clear though that the troops love to receive anything from home, and ultimately leave it up to you, the sender, to decide what you’d like to do to help.

The fact of the matter is that many of us disapprove of this war, but that doesn’t change the fact that our soldiers as well as the soldiers of our allied countries are there suffering things that most of us could never imagine – now matter WHY they’re there. During the Vietnam war, this country was torn and unfortunately our soldiers were treated incredibly disrespectfully, both by the citizens of this country and by the government. I think the ONE thing that everyone in this country can agree on right now is that this particular travesty should not be allowed to happen again. It’s plain that we are all in for the long haul, and even though you don’t support the “war effort” (ugh), you can definitely support the effort of the men and women who signed on for this job.

I will be looking for more sites and organizations like this, to offer the broadest possibilities for making a difference, and I will add them as I go along. If you have any suggestions, please feel free to e me, or post it to my guestbook.

Another effort I’d like to endorse, support and participate in is the “Sorry Everybody” site.
This site is pretty simple. It has hundreds and hundreds of photos of people from all over America and all over the world expressing their feelings about what’s happening in this country in sweet, funny, poignant, honest, and in my opinion, extremely powerful ways. It is a way for people to apologize to each other and to the world for not being able to do more about this situation, and to be able to see the faces and feel the warmth of other people who care. It is not explosive, it is not aggressive, it is EXACTLY what our mothers and teachers and Sunday school leaders taught us to do: say we’re sorry.
-from their ‘faq’ page:
"What's this site about?
Most people who think carefully understand that Americans are not really any more jingoistic or xenophobic than people in other countries, but it never hurts to reinforce, especially considering what happened on November 2nd, 2004. What must it have looked like to the world outside our borders? America proudly re-appointed her reckless, incompetent and corrupt government. How much of America? Fifty-two percent. The rest of us are aghast and dismayed.
Lots of fuss is made about the “global village.” The Internet was supposed to make communication between cultures, countries and peoples painless and easy. It was supposed to build bridges. But it doesn't do this automatically; somebody has to reach out. The Internet was supposed to lead to education and understanding. It doesn't. Rarely do people on the internet apologize. I thought it was high time. The world needs to understand that there are people in America who don't like what our government is doing. And from the mail we're receiving, there are people in the international community who appreciate this.
Also, come on, it's kind of amusing.
Why does America need to apologize?
It doesn't. Our message isn't normative; it doesn't require anything of anybody. We don't say you should be sorry or you must be sorry. Our apologies are voluntary. Situations like this are great sources of misunderstanding and rancor between cultures. We don't pretend apologies are the solution, but we don't see the harm in offering them.
This is so pointless! Why aren't you out really supporting your cause? You know, volunteering, canvassing, running for office? You should be ashamed!
Who are you to say we're not? The second picture on our front page is a gentleman who has been canvassing for Kerry for the last three months. He's walked from door to door so much that his calves have turned into carbide steel. Don't you dare assume that we're not doing our part, just because we spared ten seconds to hold a sign up to a camera.
Why don't you just accept that Bush won and get on with your lives?
We have. That's why we're so sorry."
***

Most of all, these three things have made me feel like I CAN make a difference, that I can have a voice, and they make me feel less hopeless and helpless. We all need that right now. We feel that our rights and freedoms are being stripped from us, that we are being herded or railroaded by the moneyed few (and ignorant many), and we feel like this war is out of control and that our soldiers are at terrible risk for a cause that we are uncertain of. These are all ways that we can help and feel like we have more control. These are ways that we can be a unified force without having to completely disrupt our lives and the working order of our communities and country. These are peaceful, loving ways to fight all the wrongs, and isn’t that what we really want?
It’s what I want, and I hope you’ll join me.

I’ll leave you all with these things to consider, and tomorrow (‘Lord willin’ and the creek – or fever – don’t rise), I’ll be back with more.
Much love,
-Sam


*Yes, I know that this is impossible to actually always do, but I’m willing to bet a LOT that I could certainly do it MORE.
**nanny ogg would call this a "triple intender".

other python songs and sound bites, just for the happy heck of it:
the unofficial monty python home page (with mp3’s and wavs and au.s),
a fan page with more python music,
and other odd little british sounds from a site that adores eric idle. yay!

Isn’t it funny (well, not funny “haha”, but funny “odd and not really very funny at ALL”) how one incident in your life can kind of knock you for a loop but in the process awaken twinges of pain from old emotional injuries, or even reopen serious “wounds” that hadn’t quite healed yet? As if it isn’t bad enough to have this current-day crisis, you also suddenly have to deal with ghosts and memories and hurts from your past.

In a way though, I’m glad that this happens. Obviously, if the old wound were healed, this wouldn’t be a problem in the first place. It’s plain that the old pain needs to be dealt with, but it’s so hard to do that when you’re surfing the wave of current pain.

Something truly awful happened to some people I love last week. I have tried not to say too much about it here, simply out of respect to the folks involved, plus it’s really not my story to tell. I’ve spoken directly to several of my friends about it, but blogging to the world would be inappropriate. Thank goddess, things seem to be leveling out for them, and no permanent physical injury was done. The other injuries will heal in time, and hopefully some of them will be even stronger in the broken places when the healing is done. It scared us all badly, though. It scared me badly, and when all was said and done, I found that it had uncovered several of my own bad wounds from the past. Some of them were obvious ones – mother/daughter abandonment stuff and a lot of other mother/child issues, and some of them were surprise elements, like having to face the fact that the majority of my family simply does not accept me as I am and love me unconditionally; or the fact that some of the people that I have loved and admired the most were not at all the people I thought they were, and at least one – one that I loved most dearly - was in fact a cruel and shallow-hearted person, capable of mistreating and punishing an innocent child for the alleged sins of their parent.

Luckily, I am back in therapy a little. I am not able to go as regularly as I did with my former therapist, but it’s nice to have someone to talk to. I don’t feel like I will be able to make as much headway as I’d like to, simply because of time and money constraints, but just some direction might help. I find myself getting angry in these sessions sometimes, something that rarely, if ever happened with Lynda. I think this is due to my therapists’ way of getting answers to her questions, or maybe it’s her assumptions about certain situations. She’s good, and she’s helping, but some injuries need a gentle touch, and that ain’t this lady’s gig, for sure. If nothing else, I think she can help me with the current stuff, the day to day and discipline issues that I have, and that will make a big difference everywhere else, but I think as far as the deep stuff goes, I’m on my own. Nothing new there. I think I need to dust off my notebooks from Riveroaks* and return to some of the skills I learned there.

One of the things that came up this week is a question about forgiveness. I am reading a book called “The Four Things That Matter Most”. I’m not usually one to read ‘self help’ books, but the hospice director asked if I would, and if I’d consider taking part in a discussion on the book at some point. I think hospice is a wonderful organization, and I was flattered to be asked, so I said yes. It turned out to be a good thing.

The book is written by a doctor who often handles hospice related cases and practices a lot of palliative medicine. He created this ‘theory’ to help his patients and their families face and deal with the grief and their relationships. He encourages them to say the “Four Things” to one another while they can, even if it is in the very last minutes, and this book goes on to encourage healthy people to do it as soon as possible, even every day.

The four things are: “I forgive you”, “Please forgive me”, “Thank you”, and “I love you”.

Those really are the four most important things, aren’t they?

I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and I realize that only one of them is really hard for me. It’s “I forgive you”. It’s not that I have a hard time forgiving, it’s that I feel as if I can’t say what I am forgiving them FOR. If I could say it without hurting them, or without them saying that I made it up, then I think it would be ok.

A couple of years ago, I was talking to a family member, one that I’ve been pretty close to in the past, despite our slight age/generation difference. For years, I’d wanted to confront her about something in our shared past, and so in a relaxed, private moment, I did. Her initial reaction was complete denial. It simply never happened, and that was honestly what I’d expected. I pursued it though, and brought up some details that made it impossible to deny. When she confessed that she remembered, I was so relieved, and when she saw that this was not going to be a Spanish Inquisition**, but just that I needed to have that memory validated so that I could go on with the process of processing, she relaxed, and we talked, and my love and respect for her deepened immensely. Forgiveness was mine, and it felt good, I think, to both of us.

But how could I say this to my mother, to whom my entire childhood and adolescence is a lie I created, apparently to hurt her? Or to my Aunt Sue, who is steeped in the righteousness of her age and experience and in the knowledge that she is our most respected elder? Or worse, to the ones who have gone on, like the person I mentioned earlier, who hurt an innocent child? Is it still possible to forgive them?

In my heart, I want to. I crave it. But I made a choice long ago, out of necessity, to not accept any lies about things when I KNOW otherwise. I don’t want to hurt my mother, but I won’t let her hurt me either. My family has asked me again and again to let it go, and just forget the past. If it were something small, one incident, a few incidents, or even a lot of the normal kinds of incidents that families and mothers and daughters face, then it honestly wouldn’t be an issue. I can forgive her for all the things she did. I can even understand them, maybe even better than she does sometimes, it seems. But I cannot forgive, or at least accept, her continued insistence that I made it all up. Even after my brother said, to the whole clan, that I was not lying, that he was there and he remembers it all, too. She still maintains that I am delusional or just mean, I guess. I’m not sure how she handles it, because she absolutely refuses to talk to me about it. If something were to happen to either one of us, this will have all gone unsaid, and there will be even more of a chasm in at least one of us, but I suspect both.

And she's not the only one with whom I have these kinds of issues...

So I guess it has to be done by me, alone, and go unheard. But I’ll know. I can say these things to my mother, and to the others who need to hear these things but possibly never will. I can say them here, so it’s out loud, and in my heart, so that I can hold on to it. Maybe it's a start, or if nothing else, it will raise these questions in your own minds, readers.

Here are some of my most important things:

Please forgive me for being so stubborn, for refusing to settle for just “letting it go”, for refusing to accept what I feel are incorrect opinions of me and of my past. Forgive me for being unable - so far - to find another way to deal with all this pain, mine AND yours.

I forgive you for needing to comfort yourself with denial. I forgive you for being unable to love me as I am, and for being unable to love yourself as you are. And I certainly forgive you for the million small incidents (and many big ones) that caused me to feel this way in the first place.

Thank you for giving me life and good attributes and strange comforts and stories to tell. Thank you for the moments when I am proud of who I am because of you.

I love you.

-to be continued,

-s

*that’s my old Alumni Looneybin

**’cause you know, NO ONE expects the Spanish Inquisition.

Note: the first bits of this rant are basic ‘weekend update’, fairly boring household stuff. If you don’t feel like reading such blah faire, at least skip down and read my really tremendously wonderful exciting news – you’ll know it when you see it, it has LOTS of exclamation points!


Well, there’s lots of small news… I spent the weekend furiously trying to get things done around the house. I have been trying to replace the trap under my kitchen sink to no avail. I am trying to replace the old and busted metal pipes with some new plastic hotness*, but I can’t seem to get just the right parts to go back in there. Grr. I am probably going to have to break down and call… * duhn duhn DUHNNNNN! * the Landlord and get him to send his son to fix it. Bluh. It’s not that I dislike them, it’s just having anyone else in my house, especially making noise and mess SUCKS. I turn into Rainman when this has to happen. It’s gonna’ be REALLY bad when they have to come fix the bathroom floor, but it has to happen. I bought a shopvac to try to help me handle the TREMENDOUS volume of dust and doghair. It’s funny, now that I have a vacuum that works and works for my house, I like vacuuming. Weird, huh? It cuts the work time down to a fraction, and now, when I try to clean up dust and hair, I’m not just shifting it off of the stuff, up into the air, up my nose and back onto the SAME surfaces. It’s really frustrating when you realize that you are just more evenly distributing the yuck. Yuck.
I also bought some good natural – yet serious – household cleaners to help fight the mold and mildew, some things made out of real orange, lemon and pine oil. That way, after I get some of the stuff out of the house (I also finally rented a small storage space and have begun to move some of my seasonal and extraneous things into that – thanks again for the moving help on Monday, Wetrats, Jamie, X and Erin!) I can vacuum the spaces, and kill the mold and mildew. Yuck and yay.
In other household related oog, I found when attempting to FINALLY turn on the big heater that the gas hadn’t been turned on at the tank. So… I turned it on, and tried ALL day yesterday to get the pilot lit. I finally convinced the lady at the place*** to have a repair technician call me in an attempt to walk me through the steps that he might take if he came out. He did, and I learned all about thermal valves and switch contacts, and got the heater working. I can’t believe that they trusted me with something so dangerous, but hey – they’d even let me have a KID if I wanted one! What are people THINKING? ;)

I also shopped for groceries, did laundry, cooked big for the Mississippi party (more on that later) and cooked meatloaf for mine and x’s lunches for the week, did laundry, got plastic for the windows (x gets that job though, moowahahaha!), took out the garbage, and began the dreaded organization of the summer/winter gear.
That’s all the basic stuff.

On Friday night I took part in a revival of the Upstairs Gallery’s annual Coffeehouse Poetry Night. I used to be one of the honored regular readers, but since the gallery closed to move to a new building, the Coffeehouse – along with all the other wonderful art and programs they have there – has been delayed for the three years of renovation and planning. I was happy when Betsy called and asked if I’d come read, and double-delighted when she suggested that she and I do a piece together to open up the show! We spent two weeks writing back and forth via e and came up with an excellent piece. I’ll try to remember to post it here for your perusal. I have already posted the other things I read, but Chris’ dad read several of his, and there is one in particular that I will ask for a copy of so I can share it with y’all.
All in all, it was a good night. I wasn’t feeling very well, but the work was good, the art show currently installed is amazing and the company was excellent and so were the brownies. Mm! Now that’s a good way to fundraise, if you ask me.

The Mississippi party was Sunday. For those of you who don’t know, a few weeks ago a stranger came into the library, a nicely dressed elderly man with a particularly lovely accent. He said “Rumor has it that you’re from Mississippi…”. Well, ‘turns out he was a messenger from the lovely couple who organize this function where 250+ people from my home state get together for a potluck dinner. Yeah! I was instructed to invite any other Mississippians I knew and to bring a dish that was a homestyle favorite. I decided to bring a big pot of cabbage and sausage, and two big pones of cracklin cornbread. I got there late, and by the time I arrived, most folks had already eaten. My pot of cabbage went almost untouched, but that’s ok, ‘cause X and I love it, and it goes well with meatloaf. The cornbread however, was a HUGE hit! One woman even came to me and said “I’m leaving here to go to my brother’s birthday party, and I was wondering if I could take him a couple of pieces of that good cracklin’ bread! We haven’t had it in years and he would love it if I brought him some!” Several people asked to take a piece home, a few others found room for that instead of another dessert, and a couple of folks just stood by the pan and nibbled until it was all gone, save one piece, which I took to Stewart. : ) Yes, I am a proud Southern girl, I could just picture daddy smiling down on me and my DURN good cornbread, if I do say so myself!
I met several nice people, none from Hattiesburg. They must’ve left early. It was a pretty day, and a nice visit. The food wasn’t too bad, either! ;)

Ok, now for my REALLY BIG NEWS:

I GOT TO DRIVE AN EXCAVATOR YESTERDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Here is a picture of the very model I got to drive – WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Can you believe it?!?!? It’s a dream come true! I was working on the sink and took a break to go and check the mail and I saw that they had a boom truck across the street, unloading sheetrock for S&A’s renovations. I’d never seen one with a forklift/claw on it before, so of course I was intrigued. I stood and watched for a minute, then went back to my work. When I discovered that my tailpipe needed to be shorter, I went over to ask Michael if I could borrow a saw. He cut it once, it was still too long, so when I went back and asked him to cut it again, I said “I really just came over to get a closer look at the boom truck.” He laughed and said “You really like all this stuff don’t you?” I said yes, and he said “Well, you oughta’ see if John’ll let you drive his machine.” I thought he was joking, but he started walking down where John was digging. The next thing I knew, he’d backed it up to a flat place, and I was climbing into the cab!!!
John was a very nice and patient guy – especially after I told him that the first time I saw his machine parked in Steve and Alli’s lot, I climbed up on the bed of the transport and just LOOKED at it. Maybe that, or maybe he was amused by my SURELY idiot-like, ear-splitting grin!!! John actually owns this machine, and his very neat workman’s chambrays and clean white Santa beard reflected the excellent condition of that nice machine. I knew that it was a big deal for him to trust me up there, and I tried to let him know how grateful I was
He let me work all it’s functions, and let me dig some dirt and put it back and scrape it flat. I got to spin it around and drive it back and forth. It was Sam-heaven! I was only up there for a few minutes, but those were definitely some of the best, most exciting few minutes of my entire life! YAY, ME!!!!!!! Only thing is, I’m HOOKED now. How will I get my next fix?! Chris pointed out that now that I know how to drive one, it will be MUCH easier to steal one, MOOWAHAHAHAHA! * cough! * Ahem. I mean, ‘Haha! Isn’t that funny? Steal one! Ha! As if!’ :mmmmm… traaaaaaackhoe….
: )

Well, that’s all my basic news, weekend update, etc.
If you have any digging that needs to be done, call me! I’m ready!
Much love, and more road equipment,
-Sam