I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

Well....I was going to take in a movie (first time in well over a year) tommorrow, but decided against it--don't like the crowds of kiddies, so I will go on Wednesday, if all goes as planned. Tommorrow, I'll loaf around the apartment, read, listen to music, watch Doc Who.

I am really wondering what tie-in's there'll be this season, that have carried over from Series two...I was already right, it seems, about the disapearing Doomsday Dalek, and I'm told Magpie's back...what about the cold weather references? Ice Warriors? Hmmmm---? What other little hints were there in the last series that will crop up in this upcoming series? I will likely have a long wait to find out, but that makes the day, when I will finally get to see it, all that more to cherish, ey?

I was toying with the idea of doing a bit of baking tommorrow, but haven't got all I need (including a baking sheet or pan), so will have to postpone that. I was thinking either mum's/gran's peanut butter cookies or some Amish lemon cookies...could take them into work with me. My stuff tastes okay, but baking isn't really my strong suit in the kitchen--I'm much better at sauces, stews, soups and sandwiches, than I am at the baking stuff--and never ask me to make salad dressing from scratch--my culinary arts professor just about tore his hair out (couldn't get the mix to emulsify properly--kept serperating). My pie crust and breads are complete rubbish--'tho I do make a pretty darn good homemade donut (my trick: a tiny extra pinch of nutmeg).

Speaking of work, my hours have been indeed cut, but..not laid off altogether, which many, many of us fussed and worried a bit over--that's why so many employees opted for overtime during the forth quarter rush. I'm cut from my current 45 to 50 hours a week, down to 25 to 30 hours a week, but by February, may be going back up to 39 hours a week. I'll be working nights, 5 to 10, ---and some weekends, as well, on occaision. Hopefully I can find a day job to fill the gap, but with getting a disability cheque for the next two months, I have a bit more time to look. I was really anxious about being jobless for January...went through that last year, two and a half months of unemployment--not good.

I was in the dollar store the other day, looking for a cheap mop, when I spied a little bottle of liquid potpourri..."winter forest." I got round to putting in my little potpourri pot last night...mmmm---nice. Reminded me exactly of the grove of Eastern White Pines that grew behind our backyard, where I grew up. What a lovely smell--especially after a rain...woody and spicy and rich with the warmth of the earth and sun and rain. On sunny days, I used to sit on the soft thick carpet of long orange-brown needles, smelling that smell being radiated in the sunshine, listening to the mixture of wind and birdsong and the distant whoosh of cars on nearby NY Route 378. When we were kids, we used to make walls of "houses" by building up mounds of the needles--we had a big elm tree that had thick woody vines twisted aound one side of the trunk, forming a chair-like nook. That was our "throne" and the pine-needle "walls" was our palace. We took turns playing kings and queens. Funny how one little smell can bring back so many memories, isn't it?

So, my microwave died this morning. No clue why...started to go on then...bleh. Dead as a doornail. Tried other outlets, it's just gone. Time to look in the Sunday flyers for sales. It was a cheap one, but only 2 years old...get what you pay for, I guess.

I put my rainy day fund in the bank Friday, thinking I had my ATM card if I needed anything, and my cheque book. Ha. I have one cheque left (new cheques haven't arrived) and my ATM card seems to not be working. Yesterday was the first time I had to use it, and it wouldn't be accepted...bank says I have to go in on Tuesday and have it re-activated. Lovely. So, I've got, what for me, is wads of cash (most of which is going on the rent, and current/future bills) and I have no money! Well, I've the 15 dollars left over from my shopping the other day. But it is a bit bizzare, to have money in the bank and be, for all intents and purposes, broke at home. Tuesday promises to be a very busy day, indeed. Laundry, bank, shopping for a new microwave (if I can find one cheap enough)...long day indeed. But, the really bizzare thing is my turn-around, in just a few days, of being virtually constantly broke, to being nearly 500 dollars ahead of the game (thanks to my continuing disability cheques). If I continue with my frugal ways, I will at least have something put aside for when the next financial disaster hits...and, I also suddenly have health coverage again--tho' not as cheap as before. And, the time now, to persue my medical problems (diabetes, retinitis pigmentosa, broken tooth--I really don't want to know if anything else is wrong with me, I think those three are quite enough, ta. )

Well off to work for half a day. The snow's still on the ground, but the sun's shining at any rate. Another day of people yelling at me over the phone, but I have the next day off, so no complaints here.

Life is very strange.

Just a bit over 24 hours ago, I faced a job lay off, abject poverty and living in sub-freezing temps (It was -40 F (that's MINUS 40 farenheight) in January of '04, and when I was 19, Christmas time in 79, the outside temp was -25F at home in the upper Hudson Valley, and further north broke the records (still standing) in the central Adirondack mountains,at -51 F. It ain't London, that's for sure. The cold here can very literally be deadly. It has killed before, more than once, the lost hiker or elderly person without heat. Working outdoors, I've had close calls with both hypothermia and frostbite (including missing a itsy-bitsy piece of my left earlobe) and I can tell you, the sub-freezing cold here is painful! I mean, before you lose all feeling, it really hurts.

Now, I do actually have a high tolerance to cold. I've lived in unheated bedrooms, up to 15 F. (The record for me is actually 12F, (when I was 19 and my bedroom was in our unheated converted attic) helped along by my half-collie Shamrock, 12 assorted quilts and blankets, a sleeping bag and an electric fire.

By the way, I looked it up...our state's record low temp (1979) is 51 below, and that's minus 46 celsius, to put things in better perspective for my British friends. That record was set in Old Forge, roughly 50 miles away from Glens Falls, in the heart of the Adirondack state park.

Oh yeah, you could see your breath in the morning! It was a scramble to get downstairs...and one had to have very good kidneys, indeed (would you want to pry yourself out from under twelve blankets and a 70 pound collie dog, to go downstairs, through the living room and kitchen to the bathroom, when your room was all of 30 degrees and your blankets so very nice and warm?) Anyway, when temps drop below 15 F, things can get quite deadly, without some sort of heating source. I mean, one can live, with the right conditions and equipment, but it really is very dangerous in these parts...our cold is truly artic, at times. It comes direct from the polar ice caps/Canada. We're not all that far from Atlantic icebergs, you know, jet-wise, anyway. I suppose it's hard for someone not exposed to extreme sub-zero Farenheight temps to imagine it. Basically, stick your hand in a bag of ice for a half-hour, then you'll get just a tiny little idea of what I mean---picture that happening to your whole body for hours and even days.

I've worked and played in sub-zero temps. Worked in minus 60 and 70 windchills--not fun! Painful, yes. Fun, no. You literally have to cover everything, or you can suffer...once I was leading two horses down the drive, with a minus 70 farenheight windchill (not the actual air temp, windchill factor refers to what the air temp physically feels like with the wind blowing on you)Anyway, I had a horse by the lead, in each hand, walking down an icy drive--my face was covered by an oversize genuine cowboy bandana (real cowboy scarves--or "wild rags" as the actual buckaroos call them, are oversize and made of a material that keeps out wind) The wind was blowing a gale off the lake below the pasture, right stright on into my face...the wind chill was literally deadly, that day. My scarf slipped! It was only a 5 minute walk to the barn, but I got a serious burn on my cheeks that lasted for days...it was horribly painful...another 5 minutes, and the doc said I'd have had frostbite (which kills the skin). I almost got hypothermia that day, as well--and I was wearing protective clothoing! The boss sent me home early, ordering me to see a doctor. I wound up having to take a hot bath and was forced to stay in bed under blankets until my body temp came up. It wasn't fun. But I actually did go out that night, to an auction, so I did recover okay. I'm very used to the cold...hate the heat. My big problem now is I've got nerve damage that I didn't have then...so I have to be more careful and not so macho about being in the cold, as I don't have all the feeling in parts of my body.

Anyway, a day or so ago, I was terrified of living through another winter of subzero temps with little or no heat...I was very much in danger of being killed by the cold--this is no exaggeration on my part. I only own four blankets, and no sleeping bag, anymore. And a kerosene heater costs well over 100 dollars, and the nearest kerosene seller is a couple miles away. Not a pretty picture.

Then, yesterday--a complete about-face...sort of. I still owe tons of money, but the amount is more manageable now--times will be lean, but I will manage okay...and I will be reasonably warm, and will be able to cook and keep my internet, and see to change into my jim-jams at night, he-he.

And....

Today I got a New Year's gift from my best "local" friend--a complete shock on two fronts: one, the gift, a 50 dollar gift certificate to my favourite clothes store, Peter Harris (didn't even know they sold gift certs--they are the same as store vouchers)..and two...I only told her once, that I know of, last year, that I loved to shop at Peter Harris...fancy her remembering a tiny little detail like that? Amazing! I may only have a handful of friends--but what brillant friends they are! She said it was a think you gift for helping out with her sick mum. Whoa! That was over two years ago! She wrote that she'd meant to do something for me (not that I ever expected her to, I was pleased to help, I like her mum)..wow. I was floored--and, I went out tonight and shopped till I dropped!

Yes, shopping is great therapy for a woman...especially one that generally only shops for clothes once or twice a year--if that much. Acutally, I get as much fun from window shopping...but gosh, I admit, if was an upper, to go into the store, and buy without guilt. My friend insisted that if I didn't go and buy something, she'd be very disapointed in me...okay. So I took a ten-spot from my rainy day fund for cab fare, and went off to Peter Harris tongiht... I got a new pair of excellent quality jeans, a blouse, and a short cordouroy jacket, and a much-needed pair of winter boots (didn't have a pair anymore, as my old one's finally gave out last winter)..and guess what? I bought all that (the clothes were all drastically reduced, and had an additional 25 percent off besides) the cashier gave me 15 dollars change--I'm going to use it to go to the movies, New year's day, I think--haven't been to a movie in over 15 months, so I think I might go, if I can manage.) Isn't that great? I haven't done this in over 2 years! (I mean, shop without guilt or fret and worry over the expense!) Oh, it felt lovely. I was going to buy a posh dress, but they didn't have any I liked, and the winter coats were still too expensive...not marked down enough yet. So I bought a casual but dressy ensamble, and boots to tackle the snow and slush with. I shopped till I dropped--with glee! I got 28 dollars off the jacket, 22 dollars off the blouse, and 32 dollars off the jeans! I love a bargain! (halve those prices to convert to pounds--the jeans were originally 45 dollars, the blouse 28 dollars, the jacket was orig. 50 dollars. The boots, ummm...they were orig. 35 dollars and I got them for 13....AND, the county is doing a "shoppers special" to encourage post-Christmas shopping...sales tax on clothing is for this week only, reduced to 3 percent (as opposed to the usual 8 percent).

And to think, earlier this week, I felt like the hand of doom was looming over me, talk about an about-face! Man, my life is weird, sometimes.

Well, another fun day in Nancyland. I should turn my life into an amusement park with a reality show/horror/comic theme. Anybody want to hop inside for a ride? Didn't think so, ha-ha.

My morning was a trip into a mixture of sad irony, relief and utter head-banging fustration.

My afternoon/evening...didn't fare much better. Oh yeah, the screamers were on the loose and up to form, today. I called Canada, and got a guy, who, when I asked to speak to his wife, screamed at the top of his lungs, "NO, YOU CAN'T, YOU F__KIN'..." And that's where one hangs up and moves on--but not before I, in my best haughty snobby voice---having grown up with early exposure to both the new and old rich ('tho my family's income was lower-middle class), do this type of voice quite well, I told him that he needed to ask his "mother to teach him how to properly speak to a lady."...Them I hung up. Let some other hapless soul deal with the uncouth jerk, ey?

Another person, this time in Illinois, went on a long rambling tirade of how we kept ringing her home, and asking for someone who didn't live there,
and why do we keep calling her? I asked her, when she finally stopped to draw a breath, if she told the people ringing her, that they were phoning a wrong number..."Nooo---." (Oh, you could hear the lightbulb turning on inside her head, with that response). Have I mentioned how stupid we Americans often can be?

Yet another woman, this one in California, thought she was being cute (not), and asked me to hang on while she fetched the party I called for to the phone--then deliberately left me on hold. (They do that a lot, not realizing that it has no effect on me whatsoever...in fact, it's like getting a mini-break, ha-ha. I used the time to browse the Doctor Who clippings on the Times Online. I give them four or five minutes, as a courtsey--one never knows, it might be a 40 room mansion, or the person may be outside the caravan, feeding the chickens.

Well, anyhow, after dealing with Social Security foul-ups, and National Grid's abrupt about-face, and all the nasty people in North America--I am ready to be home now--'tho I have to get up early, tommorrow, to pay the electric bill.

Between the unwarrented aggrivation, the screaming people and a nasty sore tongue (my broken tooth is chafing the edge of my tongue) and the toothache/facial pain--I'm sometimes getting to be a grumpy old bear.

That is exactly what I DON'T want to be! I mean, wheter it's a snarky wife, or a snobby yuppie dame, or a crotchety old maid---I don't want to become any of the above, ever. Okay, I admit, it can be fun sometimes, being snarky or snobby or crotchety...but not as a habit, or even for more than a day or so...no way.

It's sort of like when we were kids--everyone wanted to be the bad guy, and be mean...okay, and we liked getting "shot" so we could fall down dead and roll down the hill and be really dramatic--or at least, I did The good guys were fun, and nearly always won the day, but the bad guys were much more exciting--you could get away with more, couldn't you?

I COULD EASILY BE THE GIRL IN THIS PHOTO--I EVEN WORE AN IDENTICAL OUTFIT!

I am very tired...I'm tired inside and outside, physcially and mentally.. But glad to be home. I am petting my cats, having a snack, blogging, and going to watch a few minutes of good ol' Doctor Who.

Watching Doctor Who is about all the "holiday" I get in this dodgy old life of mine, and boy, tonight, I just want to climb in the good ol' TARDIS with the Doctor and escape my life for 40 minutes or so.

Oh yeah, I did do something I never did before, tonight...I called Nuit Province in Canada, and talked to a real Eskimo (he was very nice, btw).

Okay, just lost half a day's pay running around to the bank--for no reason!!! Running around to Social Security and finding out...

I DO actually get a disability cheque!!! Arrgggh!

Seems the people I was speaking to were in SSI (Suplemental Security Income) which I STOPPED getting in March of 2005! They were the one's who told me I shouldn't be getting a cheque! Ugh! Govenment!

I was SUPPOSED to be talking to the SSD people! No one ever bothered to ask me--or tell me--what department I was speaking to, when I called--I had NO IDEA that there were "departments" now! There never were before! The whole system's changed in the past year, and the people there just assume John Q Public's going to know this automatically--tho' we've, naturally, NEVER been told! Arrggh!!!

So, SSI shunted me off the waiting room, to sit and wait some more (after a 40 minute wait to uselessly see someone from SSI) for the SSD lady to interview me.

I got a letter this summer telling me my payments would end in October--and and didn't get a cheque in November (till "surprise," one came in December)...so I assumed my cheques had stopped for good. Wouldn't you?

Long story (and wait) short: I get my SSD checques until March of 2005, and then, if I make under 850 a month in pay, I still get my 659 dollar cheque....this is a brand new policy, it seems. Nice of them to let recipients know this, ey? I've been fussing and sweating over the shut off notice, for nothing!!!

Oh, and it gets better (meant both literally and sarcastically):

When I spoke to Natl. Grid in early DEC. I was told I HAD to pay the entire 999 dollars! The minimum they'd let me pay was over 350 by the 15th, and I just couldn't swing that and still pay the rent on the 20th (rembering that I had a 659 dollar cheque sitting around the apartment, that I thought I had to give back).

NOW Natl. Grid is all sweetness and light, telling me all I have to pay for now is 169 dollars, and then I go on the budget plan--between 200 and 300 dollars--which is doable, though still hard. Arggh!!!

Why the hell didn't they tell me this in early December??? Arrgh!!!

So, to cut to the chase: I've been sweating out the last several weeks of Decmeber over nothing, only because people in this country don't blinking well tell you anything---or they don't listen to what you're saying or ask questions--or, they just are blinking stupid!

The picture below says it all.

Just a note about my last entry. Sorry. I am feeling a bit down and quite sorry for myself, today. Didn't realize how awful that last entry sounded, until I'd read it, just now.

A bit of the ol' 'poor me' syndrome, I guess. There's folks with a lot worse problems than mine, out there, as I am very aware of.

And besides, even if I was offered a ride in the TARDIS, I couldn't afford the time off from work, ha-ha!

Huh. If wishes were TARDIS's, I could escape this dodgy ol' life of mine and go somewhere else...somewhere, ANYWHERE!!! Back to a happier time in my life, to a secluded cabin somewhere, to Great Britain, Netherlands, Iceland...WW I...anywhere. But...

I'm stuck. I'm stuck and well and truly trapped in this life I have, and will just have to live with it, from day to day, week to week, until my time is done.

I had hoped that someday I'd have a job that was above poverty-level wages, but I guess that's never going to happen. At least, not around here at any rate. I could manage beautifully on 20,000 a year...could even do okay on 18, even. But, I'm stuck at 12 or 13, and that's at the high end of the poverty level scale, here in the states, for one person.

But I do get so very tired---literally, lately, it seems that the more ahead I get with my life, the harder I work, the worse things get...the more I make, the less I have. Is it supposed to work that way? I honestly had more when I was making 750 dollars a month on disability, then now when I'm averging 1100 dollars a month...it's stupid, but it's very true, I'm afraid.

Today, I make one last-ditch effort to keep my heat and electric going...shut off date is Jan. 2nd. I just don't have the money. Well, I do...if I don't pay my rent--that's not going to happen--not if I can help it. I will go without lights and heat in the dead of winter. I've lived without heat in winter before. And the hallway of the building is heated, so if temps drop to the sub-freezing level outside, I can always go out into the hallway--and maybe buy a kerosene heater later. I can buy a flashlight and eat tinned food...I will survive this, most likely...but it won't be easy. They want to put me on a "payment plan"...but the payment is way over my head, financially. Way, way over. It would leave me without money for food, quite literally, if I went with National Grid's plan. I truly hate National Grid--with a passion. A passionate hate? Is there such a thing?

Anyway...I'm resigned. I will do all I can, but if it's not enough...then, it's not enough. I will just have to live with it. Of course, if I'm shut off, it means no more internet at home. But, that's life. No magic genie is going to appear. I'm not going to win the lottery, I'm not going to magically find a high wage job, I'm not going to inherit anything, I'm just...totally screwed. I've no more chance of being well off, financially secure I mean, then I have of taking a trip in the TARDIS. Just not going to happen, ever. And I am learning to accept that. The best I can wish for (hope is a lost word to me now) is that someday I will make enough money to pay all the "main" bills, and have enough left over for food. Ha. Yeah, right.

The headlines in the news: "Over 1 million New Yorkers must choose between rent and food."

That's only news to the wealthier classes.

You may not be hearing much from me, again. I'm about to have my heat and electric turned off--in the dead of winter. And I'm working! Actually, if I was unemployed or still on disability, I'd be better off then I am now, when I'm working 39 to 50 hours a week! When I say I hate America--by God, I mean it. The American dream is a myth...the idea that all Americans are rich, is an outright lie. We don't even have NHS---millions and millons lose their homes every year and go hungry, and even die--yes, die--because they have no money for medicne and doctors---or, they spend all their money on medicine and doctors and have nothing left for food and shelter--so they (the elderly, families, the disabled) give up eating and having a roof over their heads, and go live in homeless shelters and ratty-assed motels and dilapidated dangerous public housing. And the rest of America simply doesn't know or care. And corporate America and the politicans--both state and national---remain blithely oblivious.

That's the REAL America. It ain't pretty. Millions out of work, millions more working with absolutely nothing to show for it (yours truly in this category), millions more homeless, millions and millions and millions. And the numbers are growing everyday, and no one cares.

What worries me is, I've seen this before: the French revolution, the Russian revolution--both grew out of an elitiest culture partying like there was no tommorrow--while millions suffer in an anonminity. It's happnening here--I mean it. I've talked to others---historians, political scientists, people in my own position who have the misfortune of being thinkiers---it's happening here...not the same as what led up to the other revolutions, but still...remarkably similar in many respects.

I can't say if it will ever come to that extreme here--Americans have been slowly discouraged from thinking..public schools in America are notoriously bad...and getting worse. Conservative poliiticans have threatend to remove funding for colleges who encourage "liberal" thinking (aka: thinking), and in fact, have been chucking out college funding for the needy (I am proof of that). Educational budgets are being slashed all over. Yet money magically appears for the big oil companies and other corporate powers. Money magically appears for projects that benefit the few, while projects that benefit those whose needs are desperate, shrinks and shrinks and shrinks. The American politicians give themselves nice raises while shouting down the need of low-income Americans for even a small raise in the minimum wage, so they can maybe eat decent or keep the roofs over their heads.

I'm no communist, but by gosh, in many repects, Karl Marx was dead on right about capitalism--or rahter, what we have now, extreme capitalism. This country's social structure is collapsing under the weight of coroporate greed and general apathy of those who are better off ("I've got mine, to heck with everyone else") and I don't know how much longer this country can survive without some sort of drastic change--or at least a little more realistic viewpoint on the part of her peoople.

Well, the snowstorm we were to get here in the southeastern Adirondacks never materialized...just a fine, nearly-invisible mist, with a bit of sleet thrown in for good measure.

A largely normal day at work--usual phones slammed in my ear and snarky housewives...did get a weird answering maching recording though--someone put their cat on the answering maching--no, really. When you ring up this person, you get her cat on her answering maching, meowing pitifully...probably recorded while witholding its dinner, if I know cats at all---and believe me, I do.

Tried getting into the BBC's Doctor Who website to see the Runaway Bride interview and also the Children in Need special...no luck. Click the button and...nothing happens...ab-so-freakin'-lutely nothin'. But, that's about par for the course, for me, I reckon.

Someone suggested that I write ol' auntie Beeb--yeah, like they will sincerely care whether someone like me gets a download or not. Pull the other one and get real, for pity's sake.

Came home to more threats of shut-off from National Grid...at least they waited until the day AFTER Christmas. Well, at least if I die from the cold, the cornorner won't have to put me on ice, ha-ha, I'll already be frozen!

Well, have had two offers of taping The Runaway Bride...fantastic! Something to make my days seem brighter--and they aren't going to be brighter unless I find that second job to keep my lights/heat on....but Doctor Who always makes me feel better, after watching it, always.

It's a bit dark and gloomy, this morning--still a wee bit of snow in the grass and on cars...but mostly wet and dull and grey out there. Hope the sidewalks aren't too icy as I walk to the big ol' CNA building down the way, for yet another fun day in the world of telemarketing and collections. I will remember to bring my aspirin, today, ha-ha. Off into the fun world of listening to the nastier side of American culture--the one they usually don't show in the movies or on tele. But sometimes, I get to make some elderly or poor person's day a bit less lonelier or maybe give them a smile--tho' I can't see it, I can hear it in their voices--and that makes taking all the massive verbal abuse for 10 hours, at 8 lousy 75 an hour, worth it (okay, sometimes worth it).

Okay, good thing I washed out some of those dirty knickers (I mistakenly thought city laundromats would be open the day before Christmas, remember)...'cause I was supposed to get up an hour eary and grab a cab to do my washing...but idiot girl forgot to re-set her alarm--so instead of getting up at 5:30, I got up at my usual 6:30...damn. Oh, well, there's always tommorrow..and I have a pair of clean trousers left and a blouse, so it's not like I have to re-wear something to the office, anyhow.

I had best get to the washing tommorrow--if nothing else, because if you open either of my two closets--it's a bit like a comedy, all the dirtys come pouring out.

(Also NOT a photo of my cat-- no camera)

Well, there I was, standing at the window, looking out at the wet snow--it began again, a while ago, and now there's a bit coating the grass and trees.

Anyway, I look down...and there's my fat (as in a Zepplin with fur) ginger and white Tom, Bonnie Prince Charlie, sitting staring longingly up at me, with his paw raised--and at his feet is the little wand with the string and colourful shiny tassels at the end. Awwww! It was sooo--cute! He loves his toy! It's very similar to one he used to play with (and was quite addicted to) when he was a wee kitten...he grew bored with it one day, so I stopped buying those sort of toys for him...but I guess he's feeling nostalgic for his kittenhood or something, because the joy on this cat's face over the gift of this toy...well, I don't have children, but the cats do sometimes act like one. The other two love it, wel...but Charlie's just a bit possessive of it--one of the other cat's comes near it, and he slaps his paw over the string! It's a real hoot!

So, it's exactly ten pm, here in the US, Christmas will be officially over in exactly two hours from now. Pity, that. Boring as it was, I did need the rest and a time out from my troubles--and I certainly got that today--and a bit of bad heartburn, as well---had my cheap mock Shepherd's pie, followed by some shortbread and coffee for dessert, and now I'm paying the price, ha=ha. I wil say something about tinned stew--trying to find the meat in it, can be a bit of an adventure, ha-ha.

Looked out the window, a while ago, expecting merely to see the wet street below, reflecting the orange street lamps---and....it was snowing! Great big lovely flakes of snow! On Christmas night! Hoo-ray! Great way to end Christmas of '06, ey? Of course, it went back to rain, after a bit...but still...it was nice to see--like a Christmas prezzie from God!

It's been a quiet day, here in Glens Falls....ah, ummm---did I sound just a bit like Garrison Keilllor from his radio programme there? Hmmm--the Adirondack Home Companion monolouge? He-he.

Well I had my wee bit of a cat-nap--I mean that literally...I was covered with all three cats.

NOT MY THREE CATS--BUT YOU GET THE PICTURE, EY?

Had some right weird dreams---in one, I was in some big old van and driving around our local area here, and mum was there, and I was going trail riding at some riding stable here in the Adirondacks--and explaining to the owner of the hack place that I couldn't spend the 300 dollars a month to lease a horse, as I had to pay my heat/light bill...funny how reality and daydreams mingle when you're sleeping, isn't it? I dreamed--I think---that DT's doctor was helping me pick out a snowshovel (here's where it really gets weird) so the two of us could go sledding down a nearby hill. (Why on earth a snowshovel and not a sled?)

So, this afternoon I blogged, surfed the Doctor Who Online site, worked a bit on my portfolio (scary, that...I hadn't realized how rusty my journalism skills were), wrote a whole two sentences in my lastest Dr Who fan fic story--and immediately chucked them...watched more Series II DW, read a bit, had last night's Christmas meal for lunch, took a nap....woke up totally bored. I mean totally. Like I would love it if something would happen right now--like in the movies...some handsome guy comes barging into my apartment, gun in hand, looking for the bad guy...and asks for my assistance....okay...stupid, I know. I'm screaming mad with boredom! Mind you, I'm NOT complaining, honest I"m not---I know better than most, that there's much, much worse things out there than being bored, ey? Anyway, I put dinner in the oven---mock shepherd' pie (in this case, a big tin of beef stew dumped into a casserole dish, topped with instant mashed potatoes and baked in the oven) and am sitting here, obviously, blogging some more. This may be my last "uneventful" day for a while, one never knows, so I"m going to make the best of it.

WINTER SCENE IN MY NATIVE UPPER HUDSON VALLEY, NORTHEASTERN NY STATE, USA.

Well, it's a dark and dreary Christmas afternoon. It's quiet..."I'll be Home for Chiristmas." Sung beautifully, if a bit sadly. Or maybe it just seems a bit sad, to me.

It's too quiet. Don't get me wrong, I like quiet, love it, even. But sometimes there are times when one needs a bit of noise in one's life: the sound of other humans...most especially the sound of those whom you are most fond--family and friends.

Family and friends being absent, and place a muted shroud over what should be a joyus holiday. But one compensates with memories. We use the memories to whisk away the shroud and shed light upon our souls.

I miss my mum sorely, this Christmas. I miss physically sharing Christmas with someone. Going round in the car to view the lights, going to Christmas eve service, the anticipation when you watch someone unwrap that carefully choosen gift, the humourous moments, the quiet moments of love and joy.

Mum always did her best to make Christmas special--which wasn't always easy with dad around (the older he got the more he detested Christmas and made no secret of it). But even after it was mostly just me and her, mum always humored me and shared with me--both good times and bad, and for that, I will always be grateful...the best gift she ever gave me was the happy Christmas memories.

On the first day of Christmas, my buddies give to me:

A 24 pack of beer for when I decorate my tree.

On the second day of Christmas, my buddies give to me:

Two hunting boots, and a 24 pack for when I do my tree.

On the third day of Christmas, my buddies give to me:

Three fishing rods, two hunting boots, and a 24 pack for when I do the tree.

On the forth day of Christmas, my buddies give to me:

Four packs of beef jerky, three fishing rods, two hunting boots, and a 24 pcak for when I do the tree.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my buddies give to me:

FIVE KEGS OF BEER!

Four packs of jerky, three fishing rods, two hunting boots, and a 24 pack for when I do the tree.

On the sixth day of Christmas, my buddies give to me:

Six tickets to stock car races, FIVE KEGS OF BEER! Four packs of jerky, three fishing rods, two hunting boots, and a 24 pack for when I do the tree.

On the seventh day of Christmas, my buddies give to me:

Seven racks for my shotguns, six car race tickets, FIVE KEGS OF BEER! Four packs of jerky, three fishing rods, two hunting boots, and a 24 pack for when I do the tree.

On the eigth day of Christmas, my buddies give to me:

Eight girly videos, seven shotgun racks, six car race tickets, FIVE KEGS OF BEER! Four packs of jerky, three fishing rods, two hunting boots, and a 24 pack for when I do the tree.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my buddies give to me:

Nine mounted deer heads, eight girly videos, seven shotgun racks, six car race tickets, FIVE KEGS OF BEER! Four packs of jerky, three fishing rods, two hunting boots and a 24 pack for when I do the tree.

On the tenth day of Christmas my buddies give to me:

Ten tins of chew tobacco, nine mounted deer heads, eight girly videos, seven shotgun racks, six car race tickets, FIVE KEGS OF BEER! Four packs of jerky, three fishing rods, two hunting boots, and a 24 pack for when I do the tree.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my buddies give to me:

Eleven naked lady stickers for my pickup, ten tins of chew tobaaco, nine mounted deer heads, eight girly videos, seven shotgun racks, six race car tickets, FIVE KEGS OF BEER! Four packs of jerky, three fishing rods, two hunting boots and a 24 pack for when I decorate the tree.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my buddies give to me:

Twelve snowmobiles, eleven naked ladies, ten tins of chew tobaaco, nine mounted deer heads, eight girly videos, seven shotgun racks, six car race tickets, FIVE KEGS OF BEER! Four packs of jerky, three fishing rods, two hunting boots and a 24 pack for when I do the tree.

A REDNECK CHRISTMAS TREE WITH A BUDWISER BEER THEME.

So, Christmas morning, I'm munching on a pizza bagel, watching Doctor Who series II re-runs on my DVD (yes, again), watching Billie Piper playing Rose, when the phone rings.

Now, for most of you, that's probably not something to raise an eyebrow--but I've only had this number two weeks, rarely get calls anyhow, and was absolutely not expecting one today of all days (my sister doesn't celebrate Christmas, so while she will ring me on Thanksgiving and New Years--when or if she even remembers, dear ol' sis pretty much ignores Christmas).

Anyhow, the phone rings, I raise an eyebrow and turn off the computer's speakers and pick up the phone--wondering who on earth would be ringing me up today, of all days.

Mind you, I was just watching Billie playing Rose, right...so I pick up, say the usuaal "hello?" and this guy asks me if "Rose" is there.

He had my correct number, which is odd--to think a woman would change her number and not tell family about it...but besides that, "Rose" is not all that common a name, in these parts. Oh, there are a few, obviously, but not a whole lot, that I'm aware of, anyway.

Anyway, it was a bit amusing, when I thought about it, after I hung up the phone--the man was very nice, by the way--even wished me "Merry Christmas," which also surprised me--my experience as a telemarketer is that many Americans seem to get over-the-top annoyed when it comes to wrong numbers--not me, other people. But still...what are the chances of someone asking for "Rose" while you are watching a character named Rose, at a phone number only a handful of people are even aware of?

Well...it's Christmas day. Quiet, mostly. Traffic going by on below me on Glen Street (the main road in the city), a few people coming and going in the building from time to time--but otherwise, not much going on. Got most of my housework done, yesterday--still have the carpets to do, with the old broom and dustpan, but otherwise not much else to do--which is okay. I needed a quiet day to myself--haven't had any of those in quite a while. I am going to put more online job applications in, later on.

For now, Im going to finish watching Doomsday, maybe read a bit or grab a catnap (my toothache comes and goes...sometimes I hardly notice it, other times it makes my life positively miserable..the miserable times, I just take some more aspirin and wait for it to kick in--but hard to function when it's really bad--fortunately, that's mostly at night/morning).

The sun was shining earlier, but now it's clouding over. Not all that cold, for this time of year, in the 40's, farenheight, I think. I'm re-reading La'mour's "The Lonesome Gods"---okay, not his best, but a good read, mostly. I found a DVD I must have bought somewhere and forgotten. I was going through a box of VCR tapes and old DVD's that are mostly 2 or more years old--and watched even more than my Who DVD's--and that really is saying something. Anyhow, found an unopened DVD, and I don't ever rmember seeing it before--no clue where it came from--it was stuck to another DVD--it's one of those cheap ones one gets in the one-dollar store, or Wal-Marts for a dollar. "Clsassic Westerns," Old western TV series...a couple of which I remember from my childhood. So, I've that to watch as well. I bought a similar DVD from the one-dollar store recently...but it was a dud and didn't work.

Anyway, it's 11:15 in the afternoon here, reckon most of you are sitting down, or will soon be sitting down to your Christmas turkeys, or goose or chicken, or roast beef or whatever. Hope you all had a lovely Christmas!

ADDENDUM:

Well...guess I have to take back what I said about my sister never rining me up at Christmas--she just did. Seems her future mother-in-law passed away last week, and she wanted to let me know. She didn't wish me a Merry Christmas, but said she hoped I was enjoying my day off, which was nice. she and hubby-to-be are spending the day alone, sans kids, working on fixing their assorted junky cars...and she's trying to discourage her semi-wild kittens to stop climbing the ladder and quit playing on her roof. Why she doesn't just remove the ladder? No idea. The black bear has been at the end of her drive, teasing the dogs (who are chained up outside during much of the day) again. And she nearly ran into a moose with her truck, the other day. Other than that, shedidn't hve much to say.

THE STATE OF VERMONT: GREEN MOUNTAIN NATIONAL FOREST--WHERE MY SISTER RESIDES.

Well, the stereo finally stopped about 3/4 of the way throught Christmas Invasion--Yes, there is a God, and he is kind, ha-ha.

Dinner was brillant! Best Christmas dinner I've had in years! (Thanks to a certain friend, bless.) The beef turned out perfect--tasty, the recipe is around 50 years old--those old time cooks knew what they were about, I'd never have thought of braising a roast in Coke and sauteed onions! It was...ooohhhh---soooo---goood! A tiny bit of sweet and salty, brillant idea! The carrots (cooked with the roast), the baby peas, the mashed potatoes with gravy...wow! I'm stuffed...well, I did leave some room for the coffee and chocolate cream pie, . The whole meal cost all of about 10 dollars, too...which isn't bad for a holiday meal--even for one...and there's plenty of leftovers, enough for another round tommorow--if I let out my belt some, he-he.

So, I'm off to watch more Doctor Who...think I'll switch to Impossible Planet/Satan Pit...one of my favs. Played with the cats...they loved their gifts! They are so easy to please---pity humans aren't more like cats, ey?

I was thinking of gifts I got in the past that I enjoyed, that were genuine surprises and were really great. Top of the list (my teens to young adult years): a trip to the National Horse Show at Madison Square Garden in New York City (an early gift), a pair of snowshoes, my first (very used but servicable) western saddle (the stable I was riding at only had hunter-jumper saddles and I had to have my own to take stock seat (western) riding lessons)--that was my favourite present ever, back then. Let's see...a really cool backpack for when I went hiking..it had a photo of a moutain on it--it was really unique...and a cowboy hat (I'm very picky about my cowboy hats, btw--have had them since I was around 4 yrs old, they are literally a part of my personality, tho' I no longer own one, at the mo ). Ummm--anything horsey, I loved...my parents knew they were safe there. Ummmm---John Denver items, the same thing, a safe bet I'd love it. Got a guitar once--beautiful! Couldn't play the darn thing...but it was very pretty. Oh, one year, Christmas of 75, I think, I got two lovely model horses--an appaloosa and a paint horse--and they were all decorated with authentic Native American gear...The paint horse was pulling a travois behind it...the Appy had a native saddle and a bow and arrow, and real feathers in its mane--they were awsome!! I had them for years and years. In 83 or 84, I first latched onto Doctor Who...and somewhere mum found a TARDIS bank, with Peter Davidson as the Doctor, on it, and I treasured that gift, as well.

But what about those gifts I want by never got, ey?

Naturally, the pony/horse thing..still want one, btw, Santa, if you're reading this, ha-ha... a pony would just fit into my shower stall
I'd love a TARDIS...real one. A pick up truck would be nice...a trip abroad...a little cottage in the country...someone paying me for one of my works of fiction/plays (yeah, that's never gonna' happen, so it goes on this list) a bunch of Doctor Who memorabilia, a chance to go grocery shopping and buying whatever I want--no counting pennies , Ditto on clothing/shoes, some really fab model horses...a little plane to fly around it (a whim I had when I was 14 or so). Not asking for much, am I? Let's see...a trip to NYC to the Met. Museum of Art and the theater (have done the Met, but never the theater) with a carrage ride round Central Park thrown in, and of course, dinner. Ummm--of course the ultimate prezzie would be to go to the UK and visit Doctor Who locations (and my friends, of course). I'd love to take the train to Mexico's Copper Canyon, and visit the ruins at Chaco Canyon as well--speaking of trains, a model train set, with plenty of space to run it, and enough money to really do a great set-up like granddad had. Like I said, not asking for much... am I?

Oh, listen to the charming music: "I'll be home for Chistmas..." Uh, yeah, right.

There I was, cat-napping before making dinner--after an afternoon divided between blogging, cleaning house and washing dirty knickers...when....

BA-BOOM-BOOM=BOOM=BA--BOOM! Yeah, the kids in the building are blasting the old stereo just as loud as they possibly can! I hate heavy metal!!! So much for a nap and a quiet Christmas dinner! Home for the holidays...Ha! I hate living in an apartment...gosh I miss having a home of my own. Ah well, at least if the furnace and/or hot water heater breaks, roof leaks, pipes freeze, etc..., it's the landlord's headache, not mine. But with with this blasted toothache (which I think has infected my sinus'), the old boom-box reverberating the walls of the entire building (you can even hear it out on the blinking street outside) I"m not having a peaceful Christmas...if I were rich, I'd grab a cab, and pack off to a motel for a few hours, just to get some peace and quiet!

Ah well, will just have to play Christmmas Invasion at full blast to hear it properly...like to take those blasted thoughtless brats and dump my mop bucket over their heads! Not a very Christmassy sentiment, is it? Okay, I will forgive them for being mindless inconsiderate little rugrat gits...for about 10 minutes...then I go back to hating them!

AN ADIRONDACK SNOWFALL

Whoops! Just found out both the laundromats here in the city were closed today, for the holiday. Damn. Have to wash out my knickers by hand (wearing my last clean pair ) and go to the laundromat before work on Tuesday--will turn a 10 hour workday, into a 12+ hour day, but what're ya' gonna' do? So...good thing I'm napping part of the day, tommorrow.

And....I just found out the doorbell, which was supposed to be fixed, isn't working again....will have to tell anybody coming by unexpectedly, to hoot their car horn, to get my attention, in case the downstairs door is locked (which it usually is).

I was cleaning out the freezer and fridge, and found some leftover Chinese takeaway I'd put in the freezer and forgotten--guess what I had for lunch?

A few minutes ago, I had a real treat! I just finished reading the Doctor Who Christmas story on the Times Online site. That was an unexpected joy. Hooray!

So, nearly done with my chores, time to go take a nap or read or something of the sort. My blogs are a bit boring of late, but better boring than a crisis or sorrorw, right? That's my philosophy regarding boredom, anyhow.

Someone e-mailed me today, seemingly dismayed that I was spending Christmas eve doing housework and going to the laundromat...well, I've had to work Christmas eve...even Christmas day, more than once...so why is cleaning house or doing the washing do different? At least I'm not sitting in a chair for hours, getting yelled at, right? Could be worse, ey?

And, while I'm preparing Chirstmas dinner for the slow cooker (eye of round roast, seasoned with black pepper and a bit of sea salt, and browned on the stove, sauteed Vidalia (Southern sweet) onions, and carrots, put into the slow cooker and having half a can of Coke poured over it..simmered on low for 6 to 8 hours...freshed mashed potatoes and baby peas...a Christmas dinner fit for a queen--okay, maybe not THE Queen...but good enough for me.

And I've got good Christmas music on the internet (saving the old phonograph records for nighttime)...guitarist Ed Gerhard (fanstastic musician, btw), The semi-gospel/rock group The Staples and others. Cleaning the bathroom (still haven't gotten round to getting a mop, and have to do the floors the hard way, with a sponge Ah, well.

And in another hour or so, I'll ring up a cab and trundle off to the Suds, on Bay St.

In-between, doing a bit of applying for local jobs online.

I am not working today, as the office changed it's mind, but that doesn't mean I can't still do something productive, ey?

But when I get home, the house will be clean, the laundry done, and dinner not far away. The cat's will get their prezzies ( a toy ball, a feather and string hung from a wand, and a tin of tuna ) I will put on some music, and play some cards on the computer (cribbage, euchre, spades, whist and 7 card stud poker). Then it's make the veg for supper, put on DW Christmas Invasion, and have dinner. Stay up till midnight, listening to music and reading...petting the cats, and off to bed. A good Christmas, albeit if a quiet one... Tommorrow...nothing much. Sleep, eat, watch more Doctor Who, blog, work on my journalism portfolio, stuff like that.

Again, Merry Christmas to all.

Wow! Cool!! I heard a drum beating, and looked out onto the main street--the local soldiers are parading down the sidewalks, laden with Christmas gifts for the local poor kids in their rucksacks and leading off is a truck with a big Chistmas tree and the US and Marine Corps Flags flying...hurrah! What a nice thing to see on Christmas eve morning! Sadly, this is the second year I wasn't able to donate a new toy to the Marine Corps Toys for Tots campaign, but I'll do my best to get back on track, next year.

A lot of people think Americans are rich, but to put things in perspective, over 300 million homeless (that's just the one's the govt. admits to) reside in the US---many families and single mothers with children...and more and more, these people were middle-income Americans less than 10 years ago. Food pantries that supply free food to the elderly, unemployed, underemployed (low income workers) and disabled cannot keep up with demand this year...so if you live in the US and are reading this, please donate food, this year. Your local church or town hall can put you in touch with your local food pantry office.

So, I'm quite tired, but a relaxing morning. Had a Christmas treat of my favourite cheese and crackers for breakfast, chatted with some friends, with two offers of getting a copy of DW RB after Christmas---a Christmas wish come true, ha-ha!

Yes, post-Christmas promises to be unpleasant, but today and tommorrow are turning out to be much better than I'd ever have hoped for. I'm sitting chatting online with friends, the sun is shining, the Christmas music is playing (O Emanuel--the only Christmas song I can play (by ear) on the keyboards)...and the cats are fed and lying contented in the sunlight streaming through the front windows.

I've a nice Christmas dinner planned, and the cats have a prezzie or two...who can ask for more? It's hard being alone at Christmas...but I'm not really alone, this year, am I? So spending the day without family or friends physically present, isn't as bad as I'd feared, as I know that I'm thought of. Brillant!

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Well, it's not looking much like Christmas here--early Novmeber, or late March, early April even...but not much like late December. The jet stream across the upper half of the nation, must be totally screwed up...blizzards on the west coast, the Rocky Mountain states, the south and even parts of Texas which NEVER get snow have gotten some..but we are still, a bit warmer than normal...not much, but enough to play havoc with the tourist trade and the ski bums and snowmobilers.

I have to walk to work in the cold pouring rain--but only working a few hours today--a fifty hour week is more or less my limit, though I'd work longer if asked, I'm sure as hell not going to volunteer (unless I adored my job, like when I was a groom, or helping mum in her library, that's different), no way Jose, as we yanks are wont to say. My umbrella remains missing--no clue what happened to it, I remember packing it--I think--but still haven't found it yet...on with the baseball hat, I suppose.

Well, didn't get to the store this morning, I'll either go tonight around 6,or maybe tommorrow--although tommorrow is laundry day at the laundromat. I did most of my week's shopping, but forgot one or two important items, so have to go back. I'm going tonight, as I can get a bus, and only have to shell out for cab fare one-way. This backaasswards city doesn't run busses after 7 on weekends, or after 6pm weeknights, or on Sundays at all. Stupid republicans...how's not running busses to busy shopping centres helping the local economy? They save money but not paying the drivers, but the city and towns lose money by losing shoppers. Ah well, north country bueuracrats aren't any smarter than the one's in Washington D.C., it seems.

One thing about rainy cold days, it's easy deciding what to make for dinner--two things I like most, on cold, raw days for my dinner: either spaghetti with meat sauce, or a nice hearty stew. I opted for the stew, today. Put winter veggies and some potatoes in the slow cooker, along with some leeks, dill, bay leaf, worcestershire sauce, catsup, garlic powder, and beef broth cubes and water...turned the Crockpot on low and tonight dinner will be ready when I get home--I bought a loaf of fresh baked crusty French bread yesterday, as well....a feast for a raw rainy December night!

I seem to have developed a problem with my left eye--it's sore..and I can't open it all the way. Still unpacking a bit, I was picking up a cardboard box yesterday here, and stabbed myself in the corner of the eye with it...but it was fine. However this morning it's sore and swollen...must of brusied it more than I thought! They'll probably think I went ten rounds with Tyson at work, today, ha-ha!

I was on the BBC's Doctor Who website, last night, when I noticed something...I might be entirely wrong, mind, but I found it interesting.

Just a note, there's a small "spoiler" coming, if you don't want to know anything whatsoever about Runaway Bride, don't read this.

Anyway, the alien ship in RB is made to look (from the very brief glimse I've had) to look like a Christmas tree star.

On the BBC site is a rather nice photo of the Doctor, gripping his sonic key/screwdriver with dead serious expression on his face, and there's a Christmas tree behind him--and the star on top of the tree, looks remarkably like the alien ship on the show! If that's deliberate, I must say, it's rather clever of them.

Just got an e-mail from the blog site, as did all the other members, I suppose.

Entering my e-mail each time is definately going to be a bother, but I guess there's a good reason for it, so I will have to put up with it.

What I resent though, rather strongly, is being told I HAVE to re-design my blogsite!

I mean, that's fine, if I was a kid or retired or unemployed, or just had plenty of time on my hands. That's fine if I actually WANTED to re-design my site. But not thrilled with it being intimated that I HAVE to re-design my site. I don't have time for this nonsense! I mean that literally, I don't have time. I barely have time to write each day, I don't have time to entirey re-design my site!

It was assumed by the owners of this site, that everyone doesn't like their designs--as a matter of fact, I DO! I love my site design. It works for me, why should I change something I like? Okay, maybe the new designs are better, but maybe not. I don't care. I like what I've got, and I'm not changing a good thing. I've had too many darn changes in my life lately, just for once, I'd like to stay with something I'm used to and I love. Is this wrong?

I'm all for improvement, but there's also much to be said for the familar and the old way..newer, in my life experience, isn't always better...depends on the circumstances.

I say, I will re-design this site, when I'm good and ready to re-design this site, and while I don't mind being told about new designs, I do resent being told, more or less, that I HAVE to re-design. I think the site could have worded their e-mail a bit better---the word PLEASE is also conspiciously absent.

Someone recently took me to task, over my statement that I did not think Scots actor David Tennant to be at all sexy. Well....I'm an old maid, for pity's sake! (I really, truly am--no joke intended)...we don't do "sexy!"

Honest, I will freely admit, the gentleman seems a thoughtful, charming, witty young man, and when he smiles he lights up the room...but..no. Not sexy. But then, as I've just stated, I don't really do sexy, any more than I drink alcohol (the last alcohol I consumed was in 2001, when I was in the Netherlands and wasn't sure about the water situation) and I"m just plain not into the concept of sexiness, all that much. Hey, with my past history with guys--I could pretty much pass for a nun, as far as that goes--if I was stil Catholic, that is, and didn't curse (much to my everlasting shame) sometimes.

Anyway, I'm not sure why it even mattered to this person, what I think of DT, I'm sure even DT himself would care not one whit what I think of him. I'm not anybody, right? I'm never going to meet the man, so...who cares, ey?

Just watched some more trailers and an interview re: Runaway Bride--OMG! It looks fantastic! Bravo Messr's Tennant, Russel and et al...and the gals as well.

Christmas in the recent past (last year) was awful..this Christmas is much better, better than I'd ever hoped for, anyhow...still, I can't just sweep the sadness and lonelieness and pain all under the carpet (it would leave a rather large lump I'm afraid), so while I'm more upbeat than I'd ever expected--still, there's a load of potential bad stuff looming over me, and it really is impossible to completely ignore it...I'm just pushing it into the far corners of my mind and simply doing my best to relax and find what enjoyment I can, this Christmas. It's the best I can do, and more than I'd expected to be able to accomplish.

I've come to realize, that I'll more than likely never be really secure in this life again...It's a fair bet that continual problems, constant unsettlement or upheaval, and worries and fear will be with me forever, and I'm coming to terms with that, eventually. There are times, I must admit, when I get all nostalgic for the security of my childhood home--my room, my yard, my village, my woods and fields, my dogs and, of course, my quirky disfunctional family. Yet, when I think on it--the security was an illusion, sort of. I mean, in the end, the pets were lost, the family broke apart, the home and hometown were lost, the fields and woods largely given over to development, negighbours dying, kids moving away...nothing is really secure in this life, not really, is it? Life is about changes. Daily life evolves every bit as much as nature and man. Or maybe not...it's just a thought. But, I do have some rather interesting and pleasant memories to cherish, despite all the bad things that have piled up against me of late, like a massive car wreck on a foggy roadway, I have those memories as a focusing light, to distract my mind away from the pain.

I remember how when we were little, dad would make a big production out of decorating the tree, and always insisted that we kids hang the tinsel...and how we'd be finding strands of tinsel (not sold over here, anymore, btw) sucked up by the vacuum cleaner three months later. The mulitcoloured christmas lights would be strung up along the roof's rain gutter, outside...and I loved the way the icicles hanging down from the roof, would reflected the colours. One year--and I still have photo somewhere---my older sister and I got plastic ladies wigs..one gold, one brown under the tree...and oranges in our stockings...we have a photo of us girls wearing plastic wigs and bearing orange peel smiles (we kids like to take the orange peel and stick it in our mouths and make goofy smiles)--hey, it was the 60's, no video games or VCR's, and only 3 tv stations--we had to do something to amuse ourselves.

Another "job" we had, was to help mum with the Christmas cards, by licking the envelopes...and, help tape in-coming cards to the railing in the living room, on the staircase that led to the attic. She'd put Christmas music on the record player, or we'd watch the annual Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer special together while doing it. (Good old Rudolf--still an American TV tradition, after all these decades--or so I'm told, don't have tele anymore, haven't done in nearly two years.)

In 1978 or 79, Money was tight, so I strapped on my snowshoes and went to a place nearby, deep in a very deep ravene, and cut down a spruce tree--or rather, half a spruce tree. It was a nice tree, and I didn't have the heart to kill it, just for the pleasure of a few weeks--so I sawed it in half--still plenty big enough for Christmas--tho' I admit, it was a bit scrawny (not many spruce in our upper Hudson valley region, mostly Eastern White Pine--which is totally unsuitable for Christmas trees) and, okay, sort of lame looking...but I cut it, dabbed some preservative over the cut on the living tree, tied a rope to the cut off top, and dragged that little ol' tree home across the field to my house. Mum didn't like it...kept calling it our "Charile Brown" tree (after the bedraggled tree in the Charile Brown Christmas cartoon that was also shown every year). Actually, it was about 5 feet tall, so it wasn't that small--but didn't have loads of branches so it looked smaller than it actually was. I've photos of it, as well...looked...okay, after it wss decorated--that was the year, also, we began our tradition of using unique ornaments that we'd bought each other as gifts.

Good gosh almighty! What a day! Worse day, ever. And I wasn't alone, many of my other co-workers were also cursing under their breath and looking like they'd rather be anywhere else but in our telemarketing office. Loads of people opted not to show up for work today, so only a handful of us were on hand to take the brunt of John Q. Public's abuse. And abuse us they did--from Maine to Alaska, and everywhere else in-between. Merry Christmas...yeah, right...not for some of us, then. On top of everything, my toothache started in about 2 in the afternoon--and was helped along by a massive headache as well...Let's put it this way, my second call of the morning was to some grown man's mum (I'm finding that many guy's don't have telephones at home, over here, and depend on their mum's and grannies phones, which is something that surprised me just a small bit) anyhow, I started the day doing collections--this guy wasn't paying a 70 dollar bill...rang up his mum, told yes the man lived there, but it was "illegal" for me to call her (not at all true, by the way), then when I tried to (calmly and nicely) ask her to let her son know he needed to call the club to see about the debt, dear old mum screamed at me to "drop dead!" and "Go to hell!" So I hung up and coded that one in to be sent to the official collection agency (our office does pre-collections calls and assorted sales calls for a chain of American "clubs" owned by some large European conglomerate). Anyway--it was all downhill from there. Yelling, slamming phones, more yelling (oh, tons of yelling, for every reason under the sun--I was even screamed at for accidentally pronouncing a man's last name wrong!) Merry Christmas? Not in America, it's not...more like Scary Christmas!

Gosh, what I wouldn't give to be able to live in a civilized country (I know there's ill-mannered idiots and bad-tempered people everywhere, but we just seem to breed them by the trillions, of late) where people know how to properly speak on the telephone and aren't terrifed of thinking, and at least have some clue as to what good manners are. Is there any nation like that left? Canada? the U.K.? Netherlands? Iceland? Pitcairn Island?

NEW YORK'S MID-HUDSON VALLEY IN SUMMER (Note: the Hudson Valley extends from just north of New York City, some 150 miles north into the Adirondack mountain region).

I'm very tired, tonight...not just physically, but deep inside me, as well. I feel old. I've got so much life strung out like a bride's train, trailing out behind me, as I walk though my memories. Good times, bad times. Times alone, walking the fields and woods of my upper Hudson Valley hills. Times with mum, fun times, intimate conversations, quiet moments shared. Sad moments, scary times, quiet moments filled with peace, serenity, reflection and loneliness. Real life adventures, moments of discovery and wonder, moments of sheer terror, moments of utter joy.

I spent five years of my life, starting at age 39, going back to college (I dropped out my first go at 19) and if nothing else, I"ve learned---when you are young, you seem to think you know it all...but it isn't until you begin to feel aged, that you realize how very little you really do know.

It's a big universe out there, and my knowelge seems but a speck of dust in the Milky Way.

Well, it's official, Christmas for telemarketers is an introduction to the insanity of American culture! Wow! Nearly every person I spoke to tonight was the backside of a donkey. That's just the one's that I could understand. I mean, if someone dials your number incorrectly, you simply say, "sorry, wrong number," right? Nope. Not in America. These people either make it a tedious trip into detective work (a task more suited to Holmes, Miss Marple or Poirot) to ascertain that the person you want is not at that number, or the highly offended party takes on a mad dog tirade, foaming at the mouth over the fact that you dialed their number wrong, and how dare you?!!?
Oi Vay! As Robin Willams once said, "Darwin was right!"

I did have more humorous moments, tho'. So far I've called a George Washington and Barbara Bush, a Glenn Ford and had a guy say "call me Ishmael." Today I had an actual guy named "Gene Poole," a guy named "Larry Terry," and a gal named "Marge Barge."

But there must be an Egyptian curse that I'd brought back with me, in 2004. I've had my phone less than a week, right? Last night, I was just sitting down to dinner and I get...a telemarketing call! But wait, there's more....I was just in the middle of doing the washing up, and I get....you guessed it, another telemarketing call! And this morning, promptly at 8:30, I get...oh, you know. I'm telling you, it's not fair! Here I am doing this 10 hours a day, and weekends besides, and...oh, I am a cursed human being, am I not?

So, I come home, all weary and ready to drop from mental exhaustion...and the kids on the other side of the building are blasting their rock music! And me with a headache. What a day!

So, I turned on my media player and tuned into Songbook America, and am listening to some older music and pretending I'm in a far-away land, having a quiet candlelight dinner in some cosy little resturant full of friendly--and quiet--people. Not really working as well as I'd like--I'm the one making dinner, I have to eat in the living room, as the leg on my kitchen table is all wonky (lost two rather important screws in the move, and haven't been near a hardware store in ages), and I can still here the boom-boom of the kid's stereo's base above my own music...but I"m praying that it won't be an all-night, into the wee hours thing again--last time they didn't turn it off until 4am--and turned back on at 5am...at least this time, if it goes into the 2 am hour again, I have a phone to ring up the police with (only as a last resort, if I can't sleep through it).

Otherwise, I'm home and tho' I still haven't fussed with the mail or even petted the cats yet, I'm here and blogging...I need to vent a bit, I'm afraid. I am so incredibly tense, think I'll have a cuppa, a good read and a hot shower, before bed.

Well, I was actually up around 2am, but couldn't find the right Virgin radio station, so I missed hearing David Tennant as Buttons. I was up anyway, it turns out, as I made the mistake of not taking sensible shoes to the newspaper's job fair yesterday, and was walking about in my dress shoes on the hard sidewalks--my feet woke me before my alarm did...ouch! 9 months ago, I had one in a line of several injuries--lost the feeling in part of my right foot for a few months, now I almost wish I had it back again--almost. But I was sorry to have missed Mr. Tennant--have only seen him in two things, and never heard him do a radio bit. Ah well, nothing for it now, ey?

It's cold and grey and dreary here--no snow, sadly, tho' I'm told it might flurry a bit (oh, whoopie ) later.

I'm told there's to be a Christmas party at the office today, late in the afternoon, pizza and cookies...probably will have us go in 10 minute shifts, to keep the phones going.
But at least it's casual dress (as opposed to the usual dress semi-casual Mon-Thursday), so I can wear jeans and a polo shirt (I'd wear a sweatshirt, but the office gets really hot and stuffy, but late afternoon--makes for a cold walk to and from work, though), so I don't have to fuss about finding matching shoes and dolling up myself and all..can just go as I am when I'm usually out....makes for a more relaxing morning, that.

So I've finished my usual breakfast (juice, scrambled egg, fried potatoes and cold honey-nut toasted oats cereal) and am going to finish the washing up so I can get ready for work. It's been nice having an extra 15 minutes or so, in the morning though, I must say.

JOKE OF THE DAY:
This state policeman sees a little old lady speeding past him down the highway. He pulls out and drives after her, flashing his lights and siren. The little old lady ignores him and just keeps driving. He pulls up alongside her, and is amazed to see that she is not only speeding--she's knitting while she's driving! He indicates to her to roll down her window, which she does...still speeding along and knitting at the same time. She smiles at the policeman. He yells at her, "PULL OVER!" She shakes her head and says, "No. It's a scarf!"

What did the little fish say, when he hit the wall? "DAM!"

I'm on my third workday of the week ('tho I've been working 7 days, the last few weeks the official start of each pay period begins Sunday), and already I've put in 30 hours, in what would normally be a 39 hour work week, still have three more days to go...and I've had to get up earlier than usual, and do stuff before work, due to my later work hours....I am exhausted!

But, just found out today, that the office has changed its mind and decided against being open Christmas eve, so I will actually get two days off (unpaid, unfortunately) in a row!

Acutally, those two days will likely be very boring, as I have nowhere to go and nothing much to do (except listen to Christmas music, eat munchies, play and cuddle with the cats and watch Doctor Who reruns for the fiftieth-zillionth time (again, NOT complaining)...but boring is nice--as long as it stays uneventful (in the negative way). I'm refusing to worry or obsess with my heat/light shut off, and my job cutback, until AFTER Christmas. Then I'll lie awake at night scared outta' my wits, ha-ha.

Another day of screamers, adolecent grown men, snarky-angry poodle type women and phones being slammed in my ear. One guy, a redneck from deep in the heart of Texas, tried to convince me he was really Japanese and spoke no English! (Picture George W Bush trying to pretend he's really a native of Toyko and you have an idea)...at least I got a laugh out of it. And, I was talking with a lady in Washington state, and somehow we got round--can't remember how--to discussing British television--turns out her favourite show of all time is also Doctor Who! Yeah!!! She loves Tom Baker, hated Eccleston (strangely, lots of Americans didn't take to him--I was a little off him at first, myself, but he definately grew on me, by the second viewing I decided he wss definately worth giving a try). She likes Mr. Tennant a great deal, but admitted to being a die-hard Baker fan. Small world, ey? Never know who you are going to talk to, on this job.

I went to the local newspaper, the Glens Falls Post-Star, to apply for a part=time customer service rep job---got approached by the head editor, out of the blue, about freelancing news stories (selling stories to the paper on an independant basis)...and was told if they liked me, and I proved reliable, I might be offered full-time statis in a year or two, as a full blown reporter! I covered several stories for the Castleton State newspaper, but am seriously out of practice--will have to really study (kept my textbooks) newswriting, Associated Press lingo and editing techniques--and bone up on my grammar and spelling and usage, as well. And...lost my writing portfolio, last March, now I have to start from scratch..and try to contact the college to see if they can dig up any old issues containing some of my feature articles! Whew--all this for very little monetary compensation! But, it's not about compensation, it's about love. I love writing--nearly as much as I love horses and Dr. Who, ha-ha. It's what I spent 5 years of serious study and over 30,000 dollars in funding to do--write...something...anything. I won't say it's what I do best, but I'm okay at it, and can hold my own in the professional world--if I work very, very hard at it, and keep my nose to the grindstone....which is what I did in school, and when I write seriously (not so much my blogs, nor seldom my stories and plays--that's just for self-expression, and sheer fun, sometimes) I do indeed work very hard at it, it doesn't just happen...good writing, even if it's just average writing like mine, has to be carefully crafted, like any form of creation, whether one is writing about a school board (bored is a better word, ha-ha) meeting or an interview with a British Elvis impersonator (my very first interview). I may not always take my blog or creative writing terribly seriously, but I take my profession writing in dead earnest--so, this offer--even if it never happens...means so very much to me, you've no idea. It makes me feel that I'm still worth something in this life--I'm not just a drudge, life's cannon-fodder.

Nancy's (old maid's) TARDIS

So, I woke up this morning at 6:30am, thinking it was Thursday the 21st--I do that sometimes, when I'm on a 7-day work schedule, lose track of the days. I was soooo--messed up this summer, working 7 days a week for 5 or 6 weeks in a row...never knew which end was up, sometimes, I swear. At least at the motel laundry job this past summer, I only had to deal with God (my ex-boss lady, the ultra-conservative extreme born-again Christian redneck from Texas, whose task in life is to tell everyone else how to live their lives her way). Now I just have to deal with snarky-poodle wives and male rejects from the American gene pool, ha-ha.

Anyhow, the 2am thing with listening to David Tennant (assuming I can find the station on the internet) is tommorrow, not today. But I did find some quick clips (a few seconds) of Runaway Bride---saw a few seconds of the chase scene--love it! Oh man, if it's that good for just a second or two, I can just imagine what the rest of RB will be like--lucky Brits, you are, getting first crack on Christmas day. I've never heard of that Tate lady, but from the wee bit I've seen, both she and Mr Tennant look brillant, and I am so hopeful that the show has an even better season than ever.

While filming Doctor Who, David Tennant accidently bumped his head, and came back from hospital, thinking he was Spock on Star Trek.

So, just to prove that I'm a serious Who fan, I'm working a ten hour day today, coming home and doing the stuff we all do when we come home from work--but, I'm actually getting up at 2am, to try and tune into Virgin Radio on the net, so I can listen to the reading he's giving on that station, a 7am U.K. time. How's that for fan-crazed loyality, ey?

Soooo---yesterday was fun--NOT. Calling America, YIKES!!!!!

Let's seeee---got the usual dial tones (and giggles) pounded in my ear by a supposedly grwon man from Oklahoma (need I say more?) and sung (badly) Happy Birthday to (wasn't mine) and then told to F, off by an elderly woman from...oh yeah, Kentucky. (Have I mentioned how much I hate Kentucky?) Had the old radio blasted in my ear bit, had the usual guy lying that he wasn't here (some people are the worst liars, honestly)...then just before he hung up, he said to someone in the room (not realizing for some reason that I was still on the line and could hear) that the club wanted to sell HIM something.

And the women, yesterday! Wow! Poodles! I call them poodles because years ago, I used to be a Meals on Wheels volunteer (a lunch delivery programme for elderly shut-ins) and used to bring meals to these little old ladies that had those little yappy dogs--you know the ones, you ring the bell and they rush up to the door going, "rowrr---rowr-rowr-rowr-rowr!," the dog not much higher than your ankle, is barking like it's going to really eat you... That's what the wives were like, yesterday...."he doesn't want that!" Why are you calling him?" "I cancelled that for him!" Man, I'm telling you, there are some really uptight, mean, nasty wives out there--I would hate that--if someone decided what I wanted and what I should or shouldn't have--but seems some guys like being led by the nose and told what to do...but, man, the shrews were out yesterday! Poodles!

So, to get me through the day, I make up reality shows in my head, involving these gits...I mean, nice people.

Like SWAPPING: A reaity show where these shrewy wives swap their husbands for Cyberman and Daleks (pity the poor Dalek).

QUEER EYE FOR THE CLUB GUY: Queer Eye guy Carson Kressly (top photo) takes hunting club members out of Kentucky and slams them down in the middle of Manhattan, dresses them in trendy clothes and makes them visit the Guiggenhiem museum and the Metropolitan opera, eat sushi and Thai cuisene, dresses them in trendy clothes and makes them live in a posh Manhattan apartment, surrounded by trendy yuppies who spend their time discussing their stock portfolios and their holiday in Paris.

TRADING PLACES: A snobby, uptight golf club member from New Jersey and a moronic, adolescent handy man club member from rural Oklahoma trade places for a week.

It's silly, I know, but it keeps me sane....well, as sort of, ha-ha.

Yestday I found out that I'm getting no help for my electric/heat shut off....seems the 659 dollar mystery cheque that the disability people gave me--and neither of us seems to know what it's for--, that I still don't know what to do with, messed up my emergency assistance, so I get nothing..I'm really screwed. I don't have 350 dollars to spare--regardless of what the obnoxious snobby lady from social services thinks! I'm about to lose my day job in less than two weeks...which is why I'm working 10 hours or more a day, and weekends besides...I need to have as much money socked away as possible, just so I can pay the rent next month. I don't know, there's supposed to be a programme where one can get 200 dollars towards one month's bill and a 30 day hold on the shut-off, don't know if I even qualify for that. I'm trying not to let this ruin my holiday, but....yeah, I"m a bit scared. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. But there's nothing for it, but keep trying to find a day job, and keep hoping things will turn out okay. I have a hold on my shut off until after Jan. 1st. Not much time to come up with an answer...and it will go by fast, I'm sure, but all I can do is try, right now.

Anyhow, have to get ready for work. Guess my life is never ever going to settle down and be "normal." The great hulkng boxer that is life is just going to continually use me for its punching bag. So, all I can do is sigh with resignation, and just keep plowing forward. I'm never going to get out of debt or be free of fear or worry....but for now, I have a job, a home, friends and pets, and, I'm having a Christmas this year...and that's good enough for me.

"SO SHE SAYS TO ME, 'SISTER, PRAY THAT SANTA TAKES ME OFF HIS NAUGHTY LIST,' AND I SAY, 'HONEY, I'M A NUN, NOT A MIRACLE WORKER!'

Well, the cat woke me at 5:30, I was wide awake for about 15 minutes, then snuggled down into my warm cozy quilt--only to be awakened again by the 300 pound gorilla downstairs (okay, I'm assuming it's just a guy, but trust me--he stomps around his apartment at all hours like he's hiking the north face wearing cement boots), so I get up a bit early, get showered and changed and go to the K-Mart, where I'm told they are hiring day workers....get there, and they are out of job applications! So, have to go back--but used my time at the store to get a few items. Decided to indulge myself a wee bit, and have a more or less proper Christmas dinner after all, this year. I couldn't do the capon or the ham--20 dolllars is a little out of my league, but I did find a sort of reasonably priced little beef roast, and got the peas and potatoes to go with it, as well as the gravy--and they had a small chocolate cream pie on sale in the freezer section, so I said to myself, "oh, what the heck? Why not? Christmas only comes once a year." I forgot to buy the carrots, but guess I can do that this weekend. I even found a little box of green Christmas lights on sale at the check out counter...less than 2 dollars, so I indulged myself just a little more and bought them. So now I'm all set for Christmas more or less.

I had a bit of a Doctor Who moment, just before the cab drove up to the store--the store, like all stores, was playing Christmas music (had to shop through 3 renditions on Santa Claus Mountain, yuck) When on comes a rock song I've only heard in The Christmas Invasion: I've no idea what the song is, except that the guy sings about "the red nosed reindeer"...this song is playing in the garage where the character of Mickey is working, just before he hears the TARDIS--and yells at his workmates to turn the radio down. I thought--cool! It's a kind of silly, I know, but it made me smile, at least.

Well, have to wolf down breakfast if I don't want to be late for my 10 hour day. Had me on three different call programmes yesterday, re-selling memberships to people who don't want them, making collections calls to people who mostly don't want to pay, and calling Canada (Oh, Canaada! ) to sell membership upgrades. I thought Canada would be easier--but aside that they are slightly more intelligent, and know how to use a phone properly--I'm sorry Canadians, but mostly you're every bit as rude as my fellow Americans. Tough crowd, those people--I will say though, that they are the most polite rude people I've ever encountered.

Yes, gentle readers, the old maid finally admits it: I was feeling sorry for myself this Christmas. Didn't realize it, quite honestly, until a few days ago. Then, something happened that made me re-think things a bit...first of course, was the cat and her simple joys, but also, I was remembered and thought of, by the people who matter most to me: my good friends. And, also, some total strangers have genuinely wished me well, this holiday season. At first, being told by some of the people I was calling (on my daft old telemarketing job) was sort of depressing, because I thought, "I can't have Christmas this year." Then, I realized how wrong I was.

You see, it may not seem like much of a present, but let me put things in better perspctive for you. While Christmas was never a huge deal in my highly dysfuctional family (not really a joke, that, we actually were), mum and I had our little traditions that we did each year, between the two of us. And until 2005, I'd never spent Christmas alone before. Not once. Mum was always there--even when I was away in college at 19, she made sure I got home okay in time for Christmas...and what a wonderful Christmas it was, that year--probably the last real nice family Christmas I'd had (before my dad skipped out on mum, a couple of years later). So, mum and I carried on traditions and made new one's as well. Mum talked me into going to the Presbyterian church (I'd left the Catholic church when I came of age and dad no longer had any say about it), and I've never once regretted my decision--had some wonderful moments in my little hometown church during Christmas.

Anyhow, as some of you know, mum died last year, with just me by her side, right before the first of America's two big holidays: Thanksgiving. Over here, TG and Christmas more or less go hand-in-hand: the day after thanksgiving (last Friday of Nov.) unofficially kicks off the Christmas season over here. The Friday after TG is called "black Friday," because that's when every store in America has it's big Christmas kick-off sales and many store open hours early just for the day, and tons of people take the day off from work (never me, btw) just to go shopping.

Anyhow, I was forced to spend my first Thanksgiving alone, as a bad snowstorm made travel to my sister's mountaintop home in the remote backwoods of Vermont (a 3 hour drive, if one doesn't speed), totally out of the question. So, I wound up cancelling my plans and eating a bologna sandwich and some tinned soup istead of her dried out overcooked turkey, but at that time, it wasn't so bad, as I was still a bit numb from the suddeness of mum's death and didn't feel much like celebrating, anyway.

But then Christmas rolled around. None of my relatives sent me a card--not even my sister, no gifts, nothing. For Christmas I was unemployed, broke, had no heat or hot water, and got a foreclosure notice. But...I did get a card from an old friend, and that really meant so very much to me. I went to Christmas eve service, and gosh, it was so depressing (I was missing mum) that I was glad to be sitting up in the very back of the balcony, as no one saw me sniffling and silently bawling during the candle lighting and singing of "Silent Night." I often had felt very much alone in the world--and for a while, in a way, I was---during that past year--but don't think I ever felt so empty and lost, as I did during "Silent Night." That used to be one of my more favourite carols, but now, it sort of makes me sad, too. That's why I can't go to Church at Christmas alone, anymore. I just can't bear the emptiness, surrounded by nice happy people and me virtually a stranger, and...well...that's how it is, now. I was always a bit shy in chruch, but now I'm positively fearful. It's about the only situation I still feel painfully shy with, like when I was a kid.

Anyway, I'm sort of getting off the subject, but I thought people might understand what I'm about to say, better, if they knew my situation a little more.

So, This weekend, I discovered what the best Christmas present I have ever--could ever--get: Being remembeed and thought of. Okay, so the family Christmas tree and all the ornaments and decorations are lost forever. Fine, time to move on, anyway. So I'm physically alone (minus the cats, of course), okay I can deal with that, I suppose. So I can't buy any gifts--that's hard, I love buying people prezzies--but, if people really care about me, they will understand, I hope. But what really was bad about last Christmas--no one (my local friend excepted) remembered me--no relatives or friends or former classmates, no one. It was like when mum died, I ceased to exist in other people's eyes. I cannot tell you how truly awful that felt.

But this year is different...good friends--both new and old, both overseas and local--have taken the time to remember me...even one of my relatives (a distant aunt). Okay, so I can't celebrate the holidays like I'd love to, but I have something this year that means the world to me: I know I'm not alone.

I want to take the time to thank all of you out there, for giving me the best Christmas present any one person could ever have: the gift of your friendship.

You know, anyone who's been reading my blogs with any regularity, that my life has basically been in the loo, for the last year or so.

I sometimes have been so caught up with my problems and fears and all, that I forget the really important things in life: the little things.

My little cat flame, spent the night playing with her ball, then she jumped up on my lap for a pet, then she abandoned me for the old iron radiator in front of the living room window...It was on, giving off a gentle heat, and she stretched out her little cat body, wiggled around and got all comfy, and just started at me with this "Ahhhhh!" expression on her face. She's lost some of her fur, poor thing, due to alergies, and she's a bit..well, bald, in spots yet--tho' it's healing gradually---and she gets a bit chilly, my Flamey does. So when the radiator turns on, she loves to lie there, like a girl on the beach getting a nice tan, and soak up the warmth. It's the little things that make Flame happy.

It used to be the little things that made me happy, as well. Some of those things are gone forever of course ( walks through my woods with the dogs, sitting outside by a roaring fire on a crisp October night listening to the radio and looking at the stars, going for a Sunday drive in the country, watching a funny movie with mum or a friend, things of that sort) and they can never come back to me again, except in my memories, which I do hold dear.

But that said, there's still some "quiet pleasures" that are in my life. It's just that I get so caught up in all the bad, that I sometimes overlook the little bits of good.

Like this blog, and writing Doctor Who stories or plays and such--I tune in some music, write, drink some coffee or tea or soda and just let the creative juices--or whatever--flow. My friends and aquaintences on the internet---hearing from them, even if it's just a line or two, really makes me feel good. Petting and playing with the cats, reading a good book, listening to some good music on a quiet evening, seeing the Christmas lights, watching Doctor Who...little things, that I think I take far too much for granted. I need to slow down and appreciate things more. Yes, I have lost a great deal in my life, that meaant much to me---but I've gained some things as well--new friends, the re-appearence of Doctor Who in my life (until this past winter, I'd thought the show was gone forever), I still have 3 cats...today I broke down.

I was in the one dollar store, looking for a mop (sold out) and a packet of cat toy balls for the cat's Christmas presents, and I spotted a tiny little decorated Christmas tree (about the size of a man's hand if stood on end), and a little white and gold ceramic deer. So I broke down and spent the two dollars on the Christmas decorations. I told myself it didn't matter if I had no Christmas this year, but I'm just lying to myself--so now I can admire my little tree and put a record on and play some carols on the phonograph Christmas eve--after I get home from work--, and watch the cats play with their toys, and that'll be my little Christmas this year. Maybe on the way home from work, if I can afford it, and they're open, I'll swing by the Chinese resturant, and treat myself to an order of fried dough--or, barring that, maybe buy some microwave popcorn or some chips (crisps) and dip or something to munch away the hours with, until midnight (A family tradition--we always stayed up until midnight on Christmas eve).

I want to thank everyone who left comments, by the way. I only just got round to reading them. I've left comments of my own, when I had time. I have miss you all, and really am thrilled to be back....hope Wifey is reading this--you hang in there yourself, okay?

So, here I am on Sunday morning--got up early for nothing, yet again. I was planning on going to the laundromat this morning, before work, but it seems my dodgy old knee had other plans. I strained it a bit, yesterday, and this morning it's seriously reisisting bending--not a good thing when one has massive loads of laundry to haul down two flights of stairs! So, will spend the morning with the computer and my cats--use the time to catch up on a little housework I've been neglecting the last day or two. I've elevated it...did all the usual stuff....I'm a master at the old RICE method: Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation, ha-ha. Got my first sprained ankle before I was in high school (snowshoeing accident) so I'm an old hand with aches and pains.

Well, I'm eating good this weekend, anyhow. Last night I had locally made Polish kilbasi (kilbasa or Polish sausage) in the Crockpot (slow cooker) with some fresh sauerkraut seasoned with a cup of instant chicken broth, some cloves, bay leaf and a sprinkling of dry mustard...umm--came out brillant! Had it with some Mrs. T's potato and cheddar pierogies, and had myself a feast.

Tonight it's spaghetti with beef cubes...after that, well, I'll be working long hours, so don't fuss about with big meals, too much, during the work week. I've been pondering whether or not to bother with a Christmas dinner, this year. It's up in the air, pretty much. I guess it depends on how much money I"ve got, and what's on sale. I've not had a beef roast in ages, and am toying with the idea of getting a small roast--even a pot roast (an extra thick cut of beef chuck that's too fatty for anything but braising, but good if done right) I found an old recipe from the fifties, that calls for the roast to be braised in Coke and onions....sounds different. Then again, might just eat whatever's on hand in the cupboard or fridge, and not bother with the fuss, not for just me. Guess I'll have to see what develops. It's just a day off for me, no one around, so it's not like I have to decorate the house, and dress up in my posh outfit or anything, so not sure yet if I want to go to all the trouble, just for the sake of a tradition that really hasn't much meaning, anymore.

Thankfully, my office isn't doing the Christmas party thing--or so I"m told, so there's one seasonal torture I don't have to put up with, ha-ha.

I had an idea for a Doctor Who story that came out of a dream, last night...I might spend Christmas day writing, to keep busy. I started a play two weeks ago--I say started, haven't got much farther than the second page, yet.

Well, have to go do some housework, I suppose. Not a very exciting Sunday, but Sundays usually never are, and that's just fine by me. It's grey and overcast--been unseasonably warm--which is a bit weird, for thsese parts at this time of year--but beats the 25 below zero (farenheight) that we had Christmas Day around 1979 or 80! Still cars going by down below with Christmas trees on the roof, and a guy across the street carried a big old box into his apartment building this morning, and more Christmas lights are popping up on the streets, so it's definately the holiday season, in full-swing. seems weird, not having any decorations up, but there's a lot of people I suppose, in my shoes, and maybe things will change in a few years, who can say?

Thought I'd show a pic of where I live tonight. That big white building in the background is the building where I work. The pic is taken from the far southern end of the main street downtown, looking north. I live about four short blocks north of the office building where I work, just on the edge of the really posh section of the city of Glens Falls.

I'm sitting here listening to Day and Night by Sinatra, and other oldies. I've been surfing the radio on the net all night...from rock on Virgin Raido out of London, to the local public radio station (folk and jazz), to big band, jazz and oldies on BostonPete.com's Songbook America. Can take or leave Sinatra. There's a Sinatra themed resturant, out in the middle of nowhere in Saratoga County, NY, called My Way Cafe. Ate there, once or twice--had to put up with a constant stream of Sinatra tunes all through dinner, as I recall, but I remember the food wasn't half bad. Out of all the singers of that era, I guess I like Dean Martin pretty well...which is surprising, because I didn't when I was younger--but I always liked his acting, pretty much, 'tho he didn't do all that much drama, which was a shame, because he wasn't half bad.

Well the cable company finally came through with my monitor--turns out they couldn't get a 15 inch (which is what I had) LCD, so they had to go out and buy a new 17 inch LCD...which belive me, they made sure I knew about, and how much it cost them...they just barely refrained, by the way, of calling me an outright liar, but they kept saying that I "clamied" (emphasis on the word) that the bad cable broke my monitor--even though the phone installer from the company could see it was working 100 percent the day before, and they admitted (again, sort of, not outright) that the cable was no good....but not caring what they think, am I? I fought the company, and I won!

So, have a lengthy and not very restful day, tommorrow. Had to work four hours today, as I went home sick early, on Tuesday, and needed to make up my hours. I hate calling these people! Let's put it this way, while there are many very nice, intelligent, very polite Americans, there are just far too many American families, whose gene pool is just a wee bit shallow--and in some cases, is drying up completely, ha-ha. Had one person today, the club/company gives away a 200 dollar plus cookware set for signing up for a life membership, and this person honestly thought the company was going to give her this cookware set for nothing, and couldn't conceive that she had to pay member dues at all, just thought she'd pay 24 dollars (the cost of one year's membership) for a lifetime subscription for a magazine and get the 230 dollar (equivilent of about 115 pounds) stainless steel cookware set for nothing! And she was upset that the company didn't send her her cookware set, and canceled her membership when she didn't pay her dues..how dare they! Yikes. Granted, this "club" is really a big business in disquise, and sadly, does have some shady business practices that I'm not proud of selling to people, but I need the job and it pays a hell of a lot more than working in McDonald's or making beds in a motel or whatever. And I get to sit down..not on my feet for 8 or 9 hours a day doing heavy mindless labour. And, sometimes, I can make the time to talk to a lonely elderly person, and make him or her feel better, and sometimes I can help someone who's having problems with the club figure out how to fix it, and those moments are really great. I like helping people, always have. So, at least with this job, I can do that a bit more then when I was all alone in my little motel laundry room doing dirty towels, or lugging garbage and vacuum cleaners around the race track/casino all night.

Watched a bit of Doctor Who on my new monitor--it has a much higher resolution and bigger screen than my old one--very nice! Great! Doctor Who never looked better, ha-ha.

(PHOTO: Downtown Glens Falls, NY--taken approx. 6 blocks down from my apartment building)

SEASON'S GREETING AND WARM WISHES FOR A HEALTHY, HAPPY AND FORTUNATE NEW YEAR TO ALL MY GOOD FRIENDS AT BLOG.UK---MERRY CHRISTMAS!

You know, I generally, when I write, do my utmost to avoid cursing, but gosh, haven't the people at T-blinking-W really gotten under my skin? A whole week this nonsense has been going on!

I went to bed before 9 tonight, out of sheer exhaustion, but woke around quarter to two, wide awake, still seething over being duped by the head tech at Time Warner. He swore to me (not the first promise broken, btw) that they'd be there yesterday, at my office, with my new monitor. I took all of ten minutes to scarf down my lunch...(a free lunch of baked ziti provided by one of the other workers as a Christmas treat) I ate it cold, didn't bother to re-heat it in the microwave like everyone else on my shift, and ran back upstairs from the office building's caf, back to my desk, just in case the guy showed during my lunch break. I needed to go to the bank today, but had to forego that, as well...now I have to run around Saturday morning to do it, wasting valuable cab fare and money I can't afford, because the only bank branch open Satudays 'round here, is in the next town over--five dollars (about 2 pounds 50p) in cab fare, one way! May not seem like a lot to you, but that leaves me with less than 25 dollars to spend on food for the week! (normal food expense, if you want to eat right (healthy), that is, is around 40 to 50 dollars here, or more, depending on where you shop.

So, I'm finding myself a bit aggitated, tonight--and still have a toothache, which isn't helping things, so....I opened the door to the living room, turned on the light, sat and looked out the front windows at the main street below. I didn't move all that far from where I was living--in fact, technically, I'm still on State Route 9, but the city is so different than Lake George or even Lake Luzerne, where I'd lived for five years before this, with my late mum. But, it's reasonably quiet in the pocket-sized hours of the morning, mostly, anyway. The apartment's a bit of a dump--as is this old mid-Victorian building, but..it's okay, I guess. Paint's peeling from the walls in places, there's no door between the bedroom and kitchen (I'm substituting a lace curtain until I can find something better), the ceiling tiles in the bedroom and kitchen are pretty dingy and a bit disgusting, there's loose boards under the living room carpet, but...it beats a welfare motel or a cardboard box, and I was able to keep three cats, so not complaining at all! Gosh, wouldn't the lovely American Queer Eye guys have their hands full with this place! (Miss that show, very much...love those guys, they're the greatest!)

So, to help me to calm down and relax, what is there to do, but...

watch more DOCTOR WHO!!! I know I must sound daft, but I really do never get tired of watching it...it's like no matter how many times I see it, I always walk away with a smile, after I've watched it. I realize that the people who make Doctor Who very probably couldn't care one whit what someone like me thinks, I'm not a kid, and I'm not even British (sorry to say), but I really do find something magical and special about Doctor Who, that I've never ever found with anything else on television--or elsewhere--in my entire life.

I guess that last post was a bit pre-mature. Time F'ing Warner NEVER showed up, NEVER called, nothing!

I still have a broken monitor!

And when I rang up the company, to reach the local office--I was told I couldn't call the local office! What the heck is with that? First I called the Troy, NY office--50 miles south, then I got Amersterdam NY,-- 45 miles west...but here in my city....no! The only one's who know what's going on, are the one's here in Glens Falls, and I can't reach them by telephone! I can visit the office (if I want to walk a half hour, or spend 4 dollars one way in cab fare and be late for work), but I can't do the convenient thing and ring them up...that's just insane!

I feel like I've been mentally sodomized by this company--no, not exaggerating, I mean, they say they are replacing the monitor...but say it rather snottily and are borderline sarcastic with me...but I'm willing to ignore that if they do the right thing in the end--but this is getting too, too much. I'm not going to put up with their stupid little games, no blinking way!

If they don't come through by Monday morning--this poor gal is going to be a serious headache for them. I will write the public service commission--and TW every single gosh-darn day, until they do what they promised, and stop jerking me the heck around. They adolecent morons refuse to say outright that their stinking bad cable or box or whatever, broke my monitor--but I figure a company doesn't replace a cable/monitor if it's working fine, right?

Anyhow--I've lost time at work over this, lost sleep over this (from the stress, fustration and general aggrivation) lost computer time--that I paid UP FRONT for...yeah, I'm going to get these buggers, and I won't stop until it's them that are bending over for me, ha-ha.

Yeah! Time stinking Warner has admitted they busted my monitor, and they are dropping a new one (or a used one?) off to my office in the CNA building today! Yeah! This marks the third time I've taken on big business and won--dang, I'm good! Quick on the draw when it comes to fighting injustice, ha-ha (she says as she blows imaginary smoke from her finger gun). The Doctor's not the only one fighting evil out there.

Well, normally this would be the end of my work week, but, alas, have to get in that overtime. I'm going to try and stop by the local newspaper offices on Monday before work, to fill out an employment application--they are going to have a job fair, but it's not until the 20th, and I want to get a bit of a leap on the competition. I've always wanted to work in some sort of media, so even a part-time job at the Post-Star would be nice, even if I don't get anything involving writing or speaking, and it's some backbreaking grub job, it would be a start, anyhow.

Little Flame is sitting on my lap, wanting to give me my morning cat tonque bath, but I'm not letting her...just watched her drink out of the toilet, so I'm taking a pass, this morning--and she's sitting on my lap with that semi-hurt/semi-innocent "what?" expression that cats and little kids are wont to have, when they don't get why you don't want some particularly slobby attention from them, first thing in the morning.

Was up half the night with this blasted toothache. If any of my friends reading this, should ring me up one of these mornings, and I answer the phone a bit grumpily--it's not you, I'm just naturally grumpy with this tooth thing, and will be, I guess for a while--no clue how I'm going to manage a dentist right now. My entire right side of my face is painful and swollen, right to my ears and side of my head, and I'm a bit of an old bear as a result. The aspirin helps, but guess I'm going to have to root around in the office phone book this weekend and write down a list of dentists, see if I can find one that does intallment plans. My last dentist was a rude ass, and not very gentle...and I had insurance! Now, without insurance, God only knows what type of dentist I'm going to wind up with (insert huge martyred sigh here, ha-ha).

Well, off for breakfast...only doing a 9 hour day today...I worked 9am to 8pm yesterday, and was wiped out last night. After work, I have to do my shopping for the week. Tommorrow after work, have to break down and finally do some launddry. Gosh, I'm beat. But, things could be, and have been worse, so no real complaints here, honest.

I know I mentioned how I felt about ringing up people in Kentucky, but...Arrgh! Ten minutes before my ten hour day of screaming, rude, obnoxious people yelling in my ear ends, I get to call Kentucky. Lovely. Got the lady who "thought" she was being cutely sarcastic. The type that asks questions literally after everything you say--not because she was curious, or stupid (well, that one's up for grabs)--but just to be deliberately annoying...and winds up sounding like a spoiled 3 year old with a redneck accent. Gah, I hate calling Kentucky! I swear, I really rather have a root canal, than to have to ring up Kentucky on and off during my present 9 and 10 hour days. You know, it's almost as tiring as when I was singlehandedly cleaning all
13 offices, press box, etc at the harness racetrack/casino in Saratoga five nights a week. I had a lot of..please pardon the language...asses all day, but some nice people, as well. I heard one man say to his wife, "what a nice person that was" as he hung up the phone. Another complemented my manners and voice, which was nice, and one actually asked me to dinner at his house!

Oh, I did get a bit testy with one or two people, I'm ashamed to admit, but between my exhaustion, toothache and being treated like dirt by total strangers...I suppose I can't be immune...the nastiness rubs you the wrong way, sometimes--at least it does me, tho' I try very hard not to pay it too much mind, or to take it too personally...but it's hard to turn off the anger when someone is abusive, or sarcastic or screaming at you. We use computers to dial, it's automatic, and there's a few seconds delay--and you'd be surprised how many people get mad and scream (and I do mean scream--as in shriek like a wild banshee) "HELLO!" in my earpice ((I wear a headset) or use the F word and other stuff. I find it a bit wearing sometimes. And of course, the company doesn't give a damn about me, I'm just a behind in the seat taking abuse all day for a company I have nothing whatsoever to actually do with (the club employs my employer to do the dirty work for them).

But it's a job, and it has its brighter moments...but you do feel a bit like so much raw meat, at the end of a long day, I must say.

I did get one amusing incident though, sort of. I was calling for
someone named "Fairy" --yes, that was the actual first name. I get this manly man sounding guy on the phone, and ask for "Fairy." The manly guy says to me, "I'm on another line, can you call me back?" I'm assuming Fairy is actually his wife, but hey, one never knows, ey?

But, gosh, was I ever dreaming of coming home, having dinner (using my chinese takeaway certificate I ordered the General Tso's chicken, lo mein, an egg roll and some of that fab fried dough (more about that later). But, I dreamed of coming home and watching the Doctor do his thing for the millionth time--never get tired of the Doctor! David Tennant, as an actor, seriously rocks! Man, I'd love to see him on stage--bet he's dynamite.

Anyhow, about the fried dough. Gosh, I love it. Take me to the county fair, a carnival, whatever...and I make a beeline for the fried dough booth...Italian version, Chinese, whatever. Love it! The Italian version of course, is large and flat and sprinkled with powered sugar. The Chinese version is little balls sprinkled with granualted sugar. Either way...yum! We used to have an Italian family on the little street where I grew up, and the mum made the best homemade fried dough! Ah, I can still taste it, hot from the fryer--and that was back when they still had oil made from animal fat...not the tasteless crap that passes for oil, now. I still remember how good fries (chips) tasted in the old oils...used to scarf them down, I did. Maybe it's just as well no one here sells real frying oil, anymore, things are so tasteless with it, who wants to eat it, ha-ha?

Well, off to bed early, I suppose. The cable guys came and tested my monitor today. They were so darn sure it was the video card--it wasn't...which I think might be a good thing, as they looked rather glum when it was pronounced that it was the monitor that failed...but not holding my breath. I will know the final verdict of Time stinking Warner tommorrow morning. Here's to hoping, ey? I don't know how blind people do it--finding the scroll bar blind, I mean. If this is what I have to look forward to (may be going blind myself one day..well, already am a tiny bit, but it's up in the air about that, and years away from happening). But gosh, how do they find it? It's driving me batty, trying to find something a fraction of an inch wide, without being able to see it, then trying to manipulate it up and down, when I do chance upon it.

So, off to bed after a game of computer cribbage and a quick play with the cats.

Yikes! Whadd'a day! Folks were nice enough on the phones early on, but come evening--screamers-R-Us. I'm tellin' ya', so much as one person belts out Joy to the World to me tonight--POP! Right in the ol' kisser, ha-ha. I actually caught myself muttering the F word (the "bad" F word) under my breath (after I hung up) Never did that before, ever. Mostly it was five hours of non-stop bitching and yelling and whining and moaning. Pardon my language, but sometimes I think America breeds assholes, like the deep south breeds misquitoes.

I went to the bank on my lunch hour, and they gave me the wrong bank statement--I asked for the current one, the girl accidently gave me last month's instead. So I had to go back. I went to the hot dog stand and ordered a chilidog and some potato salad--all I could afford and had (barely) time for, reached into my wallet...and my five was gone! I had to make my apologies (fortunately the waitress sort of knows me) and run back to the bank for a quick withdrawl! I was only 5 minutes late back to work (all this done within my 30 minute lunch break), which means my two feet really had to truck on down the sidewalks (amid construction and traffic) to get back up the street to my office building. What a day! Oh yeah, get home--and in NY state, landlords are SUPPOSED to give 24 hours notice before entering an apartment--by law. Naw. The real estate company (who mistakenly bills themselves as a "premier" real estate company) left a notice in my mail box--which I didn't get until tonight...not legally 24 hours notice! Second time they've done that...last time they left notes on Thanksgiving day! I am not usually a total slob (usually being the watchword here) but gosh, I hate this having to keep the house pristine consstantly, for people. It's easy enough when I'm working 9 to 5, but I'm working 9-7 and even 9 to 9, or later, and weekends too, right now, and trying to find a new day job for January, and trying to get paperwork to Social Security, and paperwork to Social Serivices (one's federal govt, one's state govt) and trying to deal with Time stinking Warner besides...and now I have to fuss with the house every morning and night..and I'm virtually out of clean clothes, and no clue when I'm ever going to get to the laundromat...I'll have to go at 6am, the way things stand! I'm blinking exhausted!

But I have had some mildly amusing moments at work, this week. Today, one of the guys started going on the phones with a very credible Scots accent, then he switched to one of the characters in the Back to the Future movie, he had us in stitches! Of course, the bosses were less than amused, ey?

I called a Barbara Bush, a Tom Jefferson and yes, a George Washington. I was talking to a guy on the phone, addressing him by "mister B___" and he suddenly said, "Call me Ishmael" (his first name)...I nearly stangled trying not to laugh. I was tempted to ask him if he'd ever caught up with Moby Dick! (literary reference to the first line in Moby Dick--written by a man from my late aunt's hometown, by the way). I called a "Mrs Claus"...got the answering machine..she must be out baking cookies for Santa.

There are certain areas of this country which are okay to call--and others that I wholeheartedly dread. I hate calling Kentucky, Utah, Massachusetts and Hawaii..nearly 70 percent of the calls are to a bunch of ill-mannered louts and total jackasses--the other 30 percent being very nice, or at least well-mannered. Runners up on the list are New Jersey, California, northeastern New York (yes rudeness is supreme in part of the state) Texas and Florida. Other the other side, "good" states include Michigan, western New York and New York City, Maine (love Maine!), Alabama, Lousiana, Washington (the state, not the capital of the country) and Alaska.

Not complaining, really. I'm glad to have this job, really I am. I've long since abandoned my dreams, whisked away my wishes for a job I liked, a job with a future..a decent paying job...I am resigned to being career cannon-fodder, to be used then chucked when my use has run out. The very best I can hope for, in my lifetime, is to be able to find enough jobs to pay the bills and keep myself out of a homeless shelter. That's where life's chucked me, and this is where I've landed. So, trying to make the best of it. Things have been worse--last Christmas I didn't have hot water or heat and it was well below the freezing mark. Last Christmas season, I had no job and very little food. Last Christmas, I got a foreclosure notice and no place whatsoever to go. So, yeah, things could be worse. So, no, not really sincerely complaining...just, tired and fustrated, mostly.

Oh, sometimes I wish this life of mine was just a bad sit-com, and I could turn it off at the end of the half-hour, ha-ha.

It's dark this morning, darker than usual...the sky is low and heavily overcast, no sign of the sunrise, just a slight lightening of the sky, a lighter shade of blue-grey.

It's apropo, I guess, as that's the way I'm feeling, as well--a slightly lighter shade of grey. I dunno', there's this little niggling impending sense of doom, hovering about in the back of my mind. Can't say why.

Yeah, I'm scared. I'm always scared. I don't want to end up in a cardboard box, freezing to death alone some night. There's hardly any want ads in the paper--all of about a page and a half, and not many of the jobs ones I can do...farm mechanics, truck drivers, nurses, spanish language teachers, people who know fancy-smancy computer programmes, like Quark Xpress and Peachtree. There's all of two jobs I qualify for (maybe)...one sounds a tad suspicious (345 to 545 dollars a week to start, no experience needed? Yeah, right, but I'll look into it, anyway--sounds a bit like one of those deals where you have to invest money to get the job) and the other is only part-time, four days a week.

I had some weird and bad dreams last night--one a real bad one. I dreamed I was at home (where I grew up) during a violent windstorm, and a huge tree was falling on me. I dreamed I was employed as a singer and everyone hated me (no surprise there), and I dreamed I was about to be struck by lightining. Very strange dreams.

I have a real bad tooth...my entire right side of my face is sore and swollen, but I can't see a dentist right now. Totally out of the question, so I will have to just live on aspirin for the time being. Today I have to have a big breakfast because I have to skip lunch to go to the bank to get the statement for the social services people..and I have to work late to make up my hours that I missed yesterday because I went home sick--still am a bit feverish, but just can't miss any more time off, so I have to go in today, like it or not.

I wish I could find something cheerful or lighthearted to say, but...sorry. Not in the mood, I'm afraid. You'll just have to take me as I am today, grouchy as an old bear. The cats are being cute, at any rate--Flame is chasing a ball, and hiding under the bed and pouncing at my feet everytime I walk by, and boots is sitting up proudly in the living room waste basket, terribly pleased with himself for some reason known only to him. He barely fits in there, by the way.

I wish I had a TARDIS. Then, I could go somewhere back in my past--or just back in the past, anywhere, and escape all this...stuff.

So the cable company guy called me tonight--claims he called this morning, but I didn't leave until quarter to, and they were told that I would be leaving then, that I worked from 9 to 7 right now, but I guess it just didn't sink in, as in: "Oh, you really do work those hours?" That was a direct quote, by the way. Do I have to say this? Okay yeah, I do: "Duh."

They still are messing about with me, with their oh-so-obvious psycological wordy-nerdy hoy-paloy. Here's an example, "So you think that when you plugged in the cable, you lost your monitor?" My response: "I don't 'think' that, I know that' (with the mental phrase, "you dolt!" added in silently).

Anyway, the company is sending someone over first thing Thursday morning (I'll believe that when I see it), with a spare monitor. Yeah, okay. They aren't bringing the bad cable with them, or the original monitor, so what's that going to prove, ey? But anyway, it's a start...of what I fear will be a long, drawn-out battle with Time-stinking-Warner Cable. That's just what I don't need, right now.

On top of that, I'm still going round with the Social Services people: To keep me from getting my heat and electricity turned off, I have to provide them (and quickly) with: A copy of my lease, my last four pay stubs, my bank statement, my social security card, my NYS drivers lic., the bill...and probably my complete family lineage, on mum's side, going back to the first Featherly to step foot in Jamestown Settlement, and on dad's side, the first G____ to hop off the boat at Ellis Island a hundred years ago. And maybe a few drops of my blood, as well, for all I know.

Once more, loads of yelling at work today--it's a really noisy place to begin with, literally dozens of people all talking at once, on different call programmes...add into that, the people on the other end of the phone yelling at you---from irate wrong numbers to people who loathe and hate the club you are trying to get them to re-join---Aspirin and Acedimediphrin (can't spell it, but I can pronouce it, and made some in chemistry class once) are very popular items where I work--they should put it in the vending machines downstairs. I've been keeping a bottle handy on my desk, since breaking my two teeth, and I've become the doll of many a person in my row of cubicles lately, as I'm starting to shell the darn things out like candy...started with a 120 two days ago, between me and my co-workers, I'm lucky if I have 50 left! I'm not the only one getting toothaches and headaches--we have a very sick office, let me tell you. Always someone with an illness, ache or pain in there.

I was told, once again, that I had a lovely voice, by a lady this time, not some poor old lonely geezer, so that was rather nice. Especially since I wasn't feeling well. I often work hard at being patient and tolerant with people, but I must admit I was a bit touchy, today, and more than a little grumpy. Turns out I was sick. I wasn't feeling great this morning, but I got sick and dizzy quite suddenly, and went home four hours early--of course, now I have to make up the time, darn it. I don't work, I don't get paid, simple as that. So, long hours will become even longer hours, now. Nothing for it, though. I need the money. I don't hate my job or anything, but it does get boring and tiring. It's a million times better than cleaning offices and hauling garbage, though. Not as easy, surprisingly, as doing motel laundry all day, 7 days a week, but still, no complaints--it's work, and I'm getting my highest wages ever: 8.75 an hour. Of course, that will mean less after January 1st, when the minimum wage in New York state goes up to 7.50 an hour.

The cost of living since Bush hit the white house, has climbed astronomically. My sister thinks 600 dollars a month for an apartment is expensive! Most decent apartments run 650 to 850...without utiilities. You want one for less, you have to go with a cramped studio or an absolute dump, or one that's in the middle of nowhere, or on in a bad part of town...as a general rule, anyhow. There are some exceptions, of course.

Even tho' I don't have much to be happy about, I don't want to become some miserable, bitter old maid. I don't expect to be some happy-go-lucky cheerful old spinster, but neither do I want to be a crank. I do fear I am getting a bit cranky, these days. And bitter...well, maybe not as much as I was, but yeah, I guess I still am, just a wee bit. I'd rather not, but neither can I deny my true feelings.

I'm doing my level best to ignore Christmas--when someone tells me, "Merry Christmas" I return the greeting, but do my best to ignore my feelings on the subject. It's sounds odd, I suppose. I love the season and all, but I have to deny those feelings, because they only make me feel worse inside. I did get two Christmas cards today--both total surprises, to me. One was from an aunt I'd not heard of since the day of mum's graveside service. I did sent her a Christmas card, a while back, but didn't get one from her last year, so didn't expect one this year, either. She sent me a nice card with a long update on her gall bladder (what is it with aunt's and their gall bladders?) and a ten-dollar bill, which was nice. She's never sent me a gift before--and she's known me literally since the day I was born-- which is odd, but I'm not looking the proverbial gift horse in the mouth. I will write her as soon as I can find some nice stationary, and thank her. I got another surprise card from a former classmate. Seems she's done exceptionally well for herself in Hollywood, and has remembered me recently (we met in a store last month, as I recall), and she thanked me for something I did for her eons ago (which I'd long since forgotten about, as I didn't think it was any big deal--goes to show), and sent me a ten-dollar gift certificate to the Chinese takeaway here in town, which was really great of her. I had expected no presents at all this year--as I can't give any, and I was raised that if you receive, you should give in return, so I didn't plan on buying anything (you know, if you buy gifts, you have to buy wrapping paper, ribbon, etc) I couldn't even sign up for the 5 dollar Secret Santa at work, as it would not only cost for the gift, but you have to wrap it as well (and the cab fare to the store to buy it). I've resigned myself to not being able to give this year (the one thing I loved the most, was giving gifts at Christmas--I was incorrigible, couldn't wait for Christmas some years, and sometimes just HAD to give mum her gift early--especially if it was something she really needed badly.) So I kind of feel bad, on top of everything, that I can't really give anything in return, except my best wishes--and that seems rather lame. I can't even make anything this year...my cross stitching is on hold at the moment--but it's pretty awful, anyway, as I'm a terrible sewer (only kid in the history of Menands Common/Elementary School Home Economics sewing class to be sent to nurse/hospital twice in one with sewing emergencies) so I can't do that...and the only other "crafts" I know are beyond my purse...silk flower arranging and cowboy belt making. Don't own the supplies/tools for either, any longer.

Ah well. I loved Christmas, and I don't think I'll ever hate it, but...maybe someday those feelings will return again, who knows what the future may bring...maybe a big rock will fall to earth and none us wil be around to celebrate, maybe Bush will grow a brain and admit there is such a thing as global warming, maybe Santa will come and slide down my non-existant chimney, ha-ha. Have I mentioned that I hate the word, "maybe?"

So, despite the carols blaring out of every conceivable ediface, the christmas trees and lights, and all that other stuff...I'm just making it another day. And I think that's the best thing I can do, this year. But, it's nice to be remembered, I must admit, very nice indeed, by people you thought had long forgotten you. Christmas alone is hard, very hard. But knowing that others are thinking of you--especially relatives you'd thought had forgotten--that makes getting through the day a wee little bit easier.

I am so incredibly grateful for finding my new friends. They've been such a huge help to me, and also, have made me realize that I'm not as alone as I'd thought. I was so very literally isolated, for so long...outside of co-workers and people I'd pass in the stores, I'd see no one for days on end, speak to no one. No one came to visit, and I had no one to visit...I was just utterly and completely alone. No one who has not had that, can even begin to know how awful that feels. My friends took away much of that pain, and I am thankful.

I watched a bit of Doctor Who tonight..the first Cyberman one, Age of Steel/Return of the Cybermen (or do I have that backwards?). Doctor Who has been a real blessing for me, this year. It's given me so much, not just entertainment...it's made me smile, and made me forget my loneliness for awhile. I know the people who make Doctor Who mostly likely could give a fig how I feel, but I wish there was a way I could thank them, for all they've given me--and other people like me. I'm no TV hound--I haven't had television in years--but I'm afraid I am rather fondly attatched to Doctor Who. It's exactly like an old familar friend to me, a comfort for the long hours alone.

By the way, gentle readers, you are always welcome to leave comments, but please be aware that my hit and miss ablility to find the scroll down bar makes it nearly impossible to scroll down far enough for me to actually see the "comments" section. I am always pleased to see comments, but at present I'm not able to find a way to scroll down far enough to read them--but I will keep trying.

I also am not sure about accessing my e-mail--haven't even had the time to try it yet, as I've been working overtime lately, and also been busy looking for a new day job for January. But I'll get round to it and give it a go, when I can, this weekend, to see if I can get in there to access the e-mails.

The cable company swore up and down that the big muckity-muck from the local tech department would ring me up this morning before work--not holding my breath, but we'll see...I know they broke my monitor--and I think, maybe they know it as well, and are just reluctant to admit it. Big corporations like Time-Warner don't make millions by fixing mistakes, but by ignoring things and just keep raking in the money.

I tried calling the state Public Utility Commission, but the number for them--which the cable company is required by law to provide to consumers---was wrong in the little booklet you get with new phone service. Typical. I finally did find the phone number though and definately plan on using it, if my questions aren't answered to my satisfaction this morning. Time Warner would make an excellent politician---oh, how their reps can dance around an issue without giving an answer. Sadly for them, I have both journalistic and public relations training--and, of course, a small measure of basic common sense. Essentially, I know a snow job, when I hear one. And boy, it's a blizzard at Time-Warner!

Speaking of snow, looks a bit like it, this morning, out there. Another gloomy December day. And I feel lousy this morning--but nought I can do, must go to work, sick or well, snow or sunshine.

I didn't get a chance to go to Social Service tommorrow, and am about to have my electric and gas cut off so I have to take my lunch today and go over there. That's another reason why I'm not feeling well. I'm hoping I won't be cut off. Then I will surely die, once the sub-zero temperatures hit, and come they will, soon or late.

But it hasn't happened yet, so trying not to think too hard about it..but it is in the back of my mind, always.

Boy, people were groucy on the phones yesterday...and on the streets, as well. One guy literally began screaming and cursing at me last night, because I rang him up in the middle of his Christmas party---I swear, if anyone sings "Joy to the World" to me, I'm gonna' belt him right in the mouth, ha-ha.

So, as I said, much as I love Christmas, I've no choice but to simply give it a pass, this year. I'm not being a Scrooge or anything, but seriously, what's there to celebrate for? I'd love nothing better than to have cause to be all happy and cheerful and throw up some Christmas decorations (don't have any, anyway), but what for? There's no money for gifts (I even had to pass up the 5 dollar "secret Santa" gift exchange at the office yesterday), I had to use Christmas cards from 2 years ago--and barely could afford the stamps, Church at Christmas depresses the hell out of me and makes me feel twice as lonely, and the Christmas carols belting out of every radio and the Christmas trees atop people's cars and all the decorations and lights...just make me feel more isolated and left out of the holiday loop. I don't get paid for Christmas day off, and must work Christmas eve, so this year, like last year, Christmas can just go take a hike.

Christmas day will be just a day off, for me, without pay. I will likely spend the day puttering about the house doing chores, and maybe reading or sleeping. Sis is miles and miles away, and doesn't acknowlege Christmas as a holiday anymore, so I likely won't even get a call from her--she didn't call me last year, either. It's too bad the laundromats are closed, Christmas would be a great day for me to catch up with my dirty washing that's been steadily piling up in my closet...hope no one opens the door...they might get hit with an avalance of dirty jeans and sweaters, ha-ha.

Well, have to go. The landlord's real estate agent is showing the apartment building to some potential buyers today, so must make sure the place is all nice and spiffy before I leave for work. Not much to do, really, but tidy the bath and bedroom and kitchen real quick. Just mopped and swept the floors, Sunday morning, and did the dusting as well, so the place doesn't look all that bad. Flame, my little ginger cat, she loves getting company, all of the sudden. It's odd, that. She gets all playful and happy whenever someone comes. The boys...Boots hides in terror--poor baby, and Charlie--well, he's so mellow, you could drop an atomic bomb and he wouldn't care.

I found out last night, that there's a fellow Doctor Who fan at work. This lady saw me on the Doctor Who Online site, and said, "oh I love that show." She's a brand new fan--was channel surfing the cable stations, and found DW on the Sci-Fi channel by accident (sort of like what happened to me, in the early 80's--it was a Sunday, there was nothing on but football (american football, not soccer) and I went to the public television station out of desperation--and found Doctor Who (Tom Baker)--was at first intriqued...then very quickly hooked--which is amazing, becuase outside of Star Wars, until then, I wasn't that big of a sci-fi fan at all==although I remember I liked the Tommorrow People, back in '79 or 80, when those re-runs were playing on a cable channel.

Well, off to work and other things. I wish I had a different life, but wishing doesn't count for much in this world, and I have what I have, so there. Stuck fast in the muck of life, another day in paradise.

PART II: DIARY OF AN OLD MAID

So, Saturday morning. Phone’s fixed, took a cab to the post office to mail my Christmas cards (sadly, that’s all I can afford to give this Christmas, Christmas cards left over from two years ago, and about $4,50 worth postage. Mailed cards to my few close friends and my handful of remaining close and semi-close relatives and one or two other parties that I thought deserving of my good wishes--for what they’re worth--- (by the way, by semi-close, I mean those few of my surviving aunts and cousins who actually remember that I still exist) and sent them on there respective ways.

After posting my letters, I went by cab to another end of town and stopped by the cable company office to pay for my new phone/internet service, and to pick up the Ethernet cable I needed to connect to the high-speed internet (it was something like 6 dollars more for high speed, if I took the phone/internet package, so I went for broke (heck, I already am, aren’t I?) and took it on. Then, instead of spending over 3 dollars for a cab to work, I walked the 20 minutes in the cold and wind to my office building, downtown, and saved the three bucks for some popcorn (The other workers at the office buy microwave popcorn and I have to sit there all day, day in and day out, smelling that lovely, lovely freshly-popped buttery popcorn smell--just couldn’t take it any more) so I went to the convenient store and bought a box of “movie theater butter” flavour popcorn that was on sale for 2.50. I try to avoid indulging myself overmuch, but sometimes, a popcorn lover has to do, what a popcorn lover has to do, ‘ya know?

I got home, and checked on dinner in the slow cooker. Yesterday at the store, they had stew beef cubes on sale dirt cheap, so I bought a package. This morning, I seasoned the meat with some basil, oregano and garlic powder and browned it in a tiny bit of olive oil. Then I stuck it in the slow cooker, along with a jar of garlic and olive oil spaghetti sauce that also was on sale, and set it to low. Got home, put the pasta water on to boil and went into the living room to hook up the computer. Following the instructions the man on the phone had given me the day before (the same one who accidentally switched off my phone service, it seems), I plugged the Ethernet cable into the cable modem, plugged the other end into the computer….

…and good-bye phone service, good bye ¼ of the right side of my computer screen. Yup. The cable company just fried my monitor. Muttering things under my breath that are not repeatable in mixed company, and definitely not words one would use around one’s mother, I checked all the connections--none loose. So I stomped off into the kitchen, turned off my pasta water, got back into my hiking boots, my coat, my hat and gloves, grabbed a fist-full of quarters from the spare change drawer (that I was saving for the Laundromat), and sent my tired aching knees and feet back out to the cold hard pavement of the sidewalks of Glens Falls.

I called the cable company, they said someone would come. He did. Spent about a half hour scratching his head and “huh”-ing a lot, running up and down the stairs, trying this and that, more “huh’s” and “hmmm’s,” he had no clue what was going on with the computer or the phone. He couldn’t get into the basement. Told me the guy that came Friday didn’t do his job right (gee, thanks for that, now I really feel confident with the company), so finally, he said there was something wrong (he “thinks”) with the wire/connection, somewhere in the building (a frayed line or short or something) and they have to come back at 10 am on Sunday morning. No mention of what I’m supposed to do with my blasted monitor screen. So he leaves and I just sit there on my bed and try to relax enough to eat dinner---I didn’t show it to the repair man, but I was hopping mad…mad enough to eat nails, as we Yanks say. My landlord was pissed and snotty to the repair guy--who was, in fact, actually rather nice and did seem to know what he was doing, to be fair. He just was genuinely puzzled by the problem, and did his honest best to sort it--which is why I didn’t get mad at him, and stayed out from underfoot whilst he worked. But the landlord was ticked off at being called on a Saturday, and not pleased to have to come up here on a Sunday morning. I don’t blame him. I’ll make sure to offer him some of my “butch” coffee (in my blue enamel Adirondack coffee pot), wouldn’t hurt to butter him up some, I reckon.

So, I went and had dinner--delicious, but can’t say I enjoyed it as much as I should have done. Think I’ll save the leftovers for lunch tomorrow. Anyhow, after dinner I sat on my bed and read for a bit, to chill out a little…before I walked back down the four blocks to the convenient store to call the cable company--this time armed with their toll-free number…not wasting anymore of my precious hoard of laundry quarters on them!

So, it’s getting cold again--wasn’t too bad, outside today. It was in the upper twenties to mid-30’s farenheight, not bad for this time of year. But come evening, the wind picked up again, and the temperature dropped sharply--so I don my wool jacket and put my other coat over it, the gloves and hat again, and tromp back down there to ring up the company--get there and speak to person A, who is no help and transfers me to person B, who is no help, who transfers me to person C…who never turns up and makes me wait--sweating in my heavy coats--on hold for 10 minutes. I do finally get to person C, a supervisor who only gives his name as “Rondele.” Must admit, and yes, I am being facetious, that Rondele isn’t a very butch name--it does, in fact, sound like the name of a Motown Records girl group from the 50’s or early 60’s (aka: the Rondolettes or something like that). But by this time, I could have reached a Dalek on the other end of the line--and if it had some intelligent response about my computer monitor--I’d of jumped for joy at the sound of it’s gravelly and annoyingly strident voice.

Well, “Rondelle” wasn’t a whole lot of help--a bit mildly sarcastic with his “so you want us to replace your monitor?” in that “yeah, right--not on your life” kind of undertone. In the end, I convinced him to at least send out a computer tech with the phone guys tomorrow morning…but that’s all. The cable company is absolutely dodging my queries of “what if you can’t fix my monitor?” I went home, head down, fighting tears yet again, feeling very low yet again. I just can’t get a break, can I?

Okay, so I can see three quarters of my computer screen--but the right quarter simply doesn’t exist any longer--can’t get out of things, can minimize and stuff like that. Any functions on the right side--just plain gone. But the tiny multi-coloured vertical stripes are downright pretty, I must say. (Yes, I’m also being a tad sarcastic, sorry.)

But wait, as the adverts used to say, that’s not all! Oh yeah. I sat down to read once again, tuned in the radio to a local folk music show that I’m rather fond of, The Hudson River Sampler (WAMC FM Saturdays from 8 to 10)…didn’t get it in too good, but good enough. It’s out of Albany, 50 miles away, and I used to tune in to the show via the internet. I used to begin by listening to the (usually) live broadcast of Prarie Home Companion at 7, Hudson River Sampler at 8, followed by the star watch (real stars not the Hollywood kind) show and jazz for the rest of the evening. Then I started working Saturday nights, and sort of fell out of the habit. If any British nightowls are reading this, and like a good variety in music, this is a good night for it--but you’re five hours ahead of me, so it’s unlikely that you’ll tune in, I know. I’m told BBC radio does PHC with Garrison Keilor, as well, so maybe you are already familiar with that programme.

So anyway, there I am, eating popcorn, leafing through my Louis L’Amour book and…snap! I just broke not one--but TWO teeth! And yes, it hurts. And no, I have no dental insurance--or even a dentist, anymore. I’m definitely going to need to buy more aspirin!

Now, I’m not generally superstitious, but I swear on a stack of bibles--I must’ve brought home a curse from Egypt, back in ’04! It’s really starting to feel that way--I’m being serious, here. I really am beginning to feel like I’m under some horrible curse, that simply will not go away!

I’m tired. But…have the washing up to do, and sorting the laundry for tomorrow--once more down to my last pair of knickers…and clean jeans. My schedule for the next 3 weeks (before I get laid off days for the winter--another reason for the overtime) is: Sunday 12-2, Mon-Thurs 9am to 7pm, Friday 9-5, Sat 11-2pm. Not bad, really, and I could wind up working even more, towards the last week or so, which would be nice. I don’t get paid for holidays, so Christmas and New Year’s means a lost day’s pay, so I may try to squeeze in even more hours, if I can. I can work Christmas eve, which for the first time in my life, I’m happy about. I was a bit worried they might do a half-day, like many offices do.

Noisy outside my windows tonight…kids yelling, car tyres peeling out, sirens…rowdy Glens Falls! Actually, for a city, it’s really not all that noisy. The dog across the hall was howling mournfully again. Still sounds like a Basset hound or something. I’ve named him, “Barney,” tho’ I haven’t a clue what it looks like or what gender it is--let alone its name. Poor dear really hates it when it’s family leaves it alone. It’s a bit annoying, really, but having worked in a 30 dog kennel, and been a dog owner myself, I’m used to it. If I could get used to that darn rooster across the street at the old place, and with the city noises here, I can get used to an occasional howling dog.

So this is going to be a challenge, if I have no right side of my computer--can’t scroll up or down at all, so I can’t go back and change something or fix it--what a pain! Speaking in pain, yeah, my one tooth hurts--okay, my whole right jaw hurts--and I’m tired and achy and grumpy as an old bear tonight. Guess I will finish my chores and just call it a night, even tho’ it’s only a bit past 9pm. Gosh, Saturdays used to be fun--now…you can have ‘em, thanks.

III. Diary of an old maid:

Well, one of the nice things about working weekends, is that the guy next to me is a liberal, ha-ha. I live in single-minded (read: simple-minded) conservative Republican land, and to be in close confines with an actual person who’s not afraid to think for himself--lovely. Heard a great Bush joke, though some non-American people might not get this, maybe: George Bush was suffering from insomnia, so he bought himself a picture puzzle to put together. He spent all night at it, and still couldn’t figure out how to make all the pieces fit. So, he rings up Dick Cheney. The Vice-Prez arrives and Bush yells, “Help me with this, Dick. I’ve been at it all night and I can’t figure how this puzzle goes together-- the pieces won’t fit!” Dick looks at the prez and says, “What’s it supposed to be a picture of?” The president points to the picture on the white box that the pieces came in, that showed a colour drawing of a rooster. “See, it’s supposed to be a big ol’ rooster, but I can’t seem to find the picture in these pieces.” The Vice-president rolls his eyes and says, “Oh for pity’s sake, George, put the cornflakes back in the box!”

Some of my “favourite” George W (as in DUH-ba-ya) Bush quotes (as in stuff this guy actually said):

“Security is the essential roadblock to achieving the road to peace.” “I hope you leave here and walk out and say, ‘what did he say?’” “Poor people aren’t necessarily killers. Just because you happen not to be rich, doesn’t mean you are willing to kill.” “I think anybody who doesn’t think I’m smart enough to handle the job is underestimating.” And, in case you are still not convinced the man is a complete and utter brainless twit: “In my judgment, when the United States says there will be serious consequences, and if there isn’t serious consequences, it creates adverse consequences.”

Consequentially speaking, the man’s popularity rating is at an all-time low, and one of the lowest for any sitting president in nearly 100 years, and the man insists firmly that the numbers are wrong and don’t mean a thing and he doesn’t care what people think (obviously) and said this not too long ago--right after the republicans had massive losses in the recent elections. I have it from a reliable source that the man’s out of control, and in not completely in charge of his faculties. Well…look at the quotes, ey?

IV: diary continued

Where the Hell is the Doctor, when you Need Him? Or: the great utilities vs. me adventure continues.

Yeah, so here it is, 11:30 on a Sunday morning, and an hour and a half after they promised they’d be here, they’ve yet to come. Yes, I mean the cable company. So, still phone-less and internet-less and still have those colourful little vertical lines obliterating the right side of my monitor screen.

I walked the three or four blocks to the convenient store’s pay phone, only to be told--when I finally got hold of someone, that is--that it would be upwards of a 10 minute wait, just for the privilege of finding out when--if ever--my repair men might deign to show up at my door.

So, onwards with my battle against the evil Time-Warner Cable company. Next step: filing formal complaints with the state Public Utilities Commission, the Federal Communications Commission, the New York State Attorney General’s office and anyone else I can find to lodge my complaint with…I’m deliberately leaving out Time-Warner itself, as obviously they don’t give a s__t about their customers. It’s just, ‘give us yer money you stupid consumer,’ as they pull down their proverbial Y-fronts and moon me whilst giving me the two-finger salute and a raspberry.

And tomorrow I have to forego eating my lunch, to see the Social Services lady regarding my HEAP (heating assistance) application and shut off notice. Oh goodie, oh joy, oh rapture. Merry Christmas to me.

People are driving past me, on the street, live Christmas trees atop their cars, smiling out their car windows at me, a cute little girl comes in the store while I’m ringing up the cable company, a set of antlers on her head, and she smiles shyly at me--I smile back, but…it’s a sad smile. I realize that I will never have that again, not ever. It’s always going to be a fight, from now on, just to survive this life. I don’t think I will ever truly hate Chrismas, but gosh, I do wish it would go away, sometimes. It makes all this nonsense seem so much harder to bear. I can’t even go to church, because I simply can’t bear the pain and isolation and sorrow. But I would never want to pass those feelings on to others--even here, don’t go feeling bad for me….it’s like this for millions of people, all over the world. It’s just the way it is, sometimes. That’s all. I want everyone reading this, very sincerely want, for all of you to try and have a good holiday, and to find some bit of happiness to carry away with you in the year to come.

V.

Life’s Loo: Me

Well, the cable guy was here, and still no phone, no internet, no solution to the monitor problem. What an idiot!

Why do I say that? Because when he came, he said, “Oh, I think you just have a bad monitor.” I told him no problem was found with my apartment’s line or with the modem, that the man yesterday thought it might be a problem with the line elsewhere in the building. The repair guy says, “no, it’s not that, it’s probably a used modem they gave you, we’ll try a new one.” . Idiot. He tries a new modem…guess what? It’s not the modem. He says…”you know, maybe I’ll just go outside and check the outside line.” Idiot. I tell him about the monitor. “Oh those LCD screens can go, just like that.” Oh, that’s just what you want to tell an already irate customer. The company refuses--absolute is totally dodging around the issue of the monitor. I literally feel like banging my head against my walls right now. I hate life, I hate me, I hate the world I live in. I want out so bad, no one can understand this, I know. But I want out so bad. I just want this to stop. But I know it’s not. Life is just going to keep on using me as its own private loo.

I’m so tired. I don’t’ know how the hell to cope anymore. I just don’t want to do this anymore. I’m so Godamned tired! But....I do. What choice do I have? I have to, don't I? And, I suppose, there's folks worse off than me, out there...and most likely they aren't whining half as much as I am, ey?

Well my friends, I'm back--sort of. I don't have any screen left on the right side, so using the scroll bar and other right=side functions is pretty useless...strictly hit and miss with the scroll bar--picture trying to find the scroll bar blindfolded, and that is my situation, pretty much.

 I am going to do the next three or four pages in all in one shot, more or less, can't break it up due to my situation==can't toggle between screens, either.

So, what's below has been my daily journal for the couple of weeks, on and off. The next few pages will be devoted to what's been going on in my life since I've been "away." Tonights entry will appear several entries from this one, just so you know. The first entry here is notes on my move around the 20th November. The rest are whatever I was doing/thinking in the last week or two.

DIARY OF AN OLD MAID:

Diary of an Old Maid: Or the misadventures of a middle-aged miss

29^th November, 2006

Well, just because this ol’ gal hasn’t internet service, made me realize that I could still write--even if it is to no one whatsoever. So the next few blogs will be excerpts of what was going on in my life--and inside my mind---for the last couple of weeks that I hadn’t any access to my blog(s).

Moving--or as I am apt to call it these days, “the move from beyond Hell.” I mean, it makes the Doctor’s adventures in the Satan Pit seem like a holiday lark, a picnic in the park, dancing in the dark--okay, no more rhymes, just the low-down on the move.

Okay--got the apartment, yes? Just5 days before I was to be evicted. Got the money to the landlord literally--very, very literally--just in the old nick of time, as they say. Okay. That’s done. Next move: reserve a truck. Find out I have to shell out a 200 dollar deposit for a rental truck, as I don’t happen to possess any credit cards. Okay--I can live with that--supposedly I was supposed to get anything back that I didn’t use, in regard to mileage--the rental was 40 dollars a day and 39 cents per mile--with two trips plus (more about the plus shortly), I should get back some money (haven’t yet, but that’s another matter). I call up Sunday morning, the day of the move, and verify that the truck will be ready by mid-morning….told yes, but they haven’t my credit card info, and could I please give it to them? Oh boy. I told them I was told by the man who reserved the truck for me, that I could give them a 200 dollar cash deposit. “No, we don’t do that here.” “WHAT???!!!???” I moan, on the verge of a state of total panic. “That’s NOT what the guy told me when I rang you up to reserve the truck.” I cried--nearly having a king-sized little girly fit, trying desperately not to hyper-ventilate. “I have the 200 dollars cash, right in my hands, I’m only moving from Lake George to Glens Falls, it’s a one-day move (or so I thought at the time) can’t you help me?” I pleaded with my best lost little girl voice. Thankfully, I was talking to the owner and he did eventually relent--albeit reluctantly. So I took a taxi to the rental place, shelled out the 200 and drove off my nice new little Penske truck.

Okay. Get to the flat, a neighbour’s son offered to help me move things into the truck--never showed up. So I was stuck--mind, I’m 212 lbs, 46 years old, and very much slightly disabled---I carried downstairs--by myself--a 20 year old television, my antique bed, my mattress and box spring, my big antique dresser that goes with said bed, my solid wood (and excruciatingly heavy) end table with the marble top and my computer, among other things. Oh, and, as Detective Columbo (and my late mum) used to say, “just one more thing:” my computer desk. My computer desk is a wide desk, with a small drawer above a little cabinet with a door. It had a sliding thingy for the keyboard, and a bookcase attached to the back--a tall bookcase, that couldn’t be unattached, as it was nailed on. I managed to maneuver the darn thing out the office door, into the little hallway and down the first few stairs.

This is where the fun really begins. The desk weighs about 50 pounds (not sure what that would be in the U.K., but trust me--it’s heavy.)  It slipped from my grasp while I was working it down the stairs…dropped the desk on my left foot, let go the desk, it went sliding downstairs until it got stuck halfway down the low-hanging overhead wall of stairwell and stopped--stuck fast. Meanwhile, I was pretty certain that I’d just fractured my foot--having had a similar break just last May in my right foot. I tried to get downstairs to shift the desk--to no avail--that sucker was just not gonna’ budge…not by my power alone, at any rate.

But that wasn’t the really fun part--I discovered that I was well and truly trapped. No, not kidding. I couldn’t get round the desk, so I couldn’t get downstairs. And there was no one around and no one in the building. So…I called the Warren County Sheriff’s Department dispatcher. She was rather sarcastic and not in the least bit helpful--asked if I couldn’t just climb out a window or call the landlord or a friend…explained that I was totally alone and there was no one to call--and that I was somewhat disabled and climbing ladders wasn’t really a good idea (one of the few things the Doc’s told me to stop doing altogether when I hurt my back 15 years ago--that and pushing a big heavy wheelbarrow full of manure, ha-ha)…finally got her to begrudgingly call for assistance from a deputy.

Anyhow, after about 20 minutes the deputy arrives--only he can’t get in. The stupid landlord, who been downstairs for a few minutes earlier that morning shortly after I’d come back with the truck, had locked the outside door on me, the thoughtless prat. So, in the end, I had to pry open a window--nearly decapitating myself in the process, as the front windows didn’t stay up--you had to keep them propped open with a book or something, or as quick as you’d open them, they’d rather rapidly slide back down on you, very much like France’s Madam Guillotine. 

Anyway, managed to open a window without losing my head or sustaining yet another concussion, and threw the keys down to the deputy. He let himself in--and couldn’t shift the desk/bookcase either. He radioed for backup, then, at the last moment, it shifted, and all was well. And he didn’t even laugh at me--he was very nice (and rather looked like Capt. Jack from Torchwood, besides)  J  Sadly tho’, the desk proved to be a casualty of the whole operation: it fell to pieces as I was attempting to load it on the truck and had to be left behind. Now I’m using an upturned cardboard box as a desk, and the tower and screen are sharing space on my little antique oak dresser, with the television set and table lamp. Bit crowded, but I’m making it work--tho’ it’s not the most comfy arraingement going, I must admit to you. Gosh, didn’t my foot hurt--but at that point, I was quite literally too stressed  out and exhausted (It was now 11am Sunday, and I’d not slept since 7am or so on Saturday--and only then, had about 4 hours of sleep!)

So, I’ve loaded most of the really heavy furniture--I’d hired a young man from work to help me shift things upstairs to my new apartment. I get to Glens Falls, and the young man proves to be an hour late. Okay, I can live with that. He gets there at last and announces that he has band practice (seems he plays in a local folk-rock band), and can only stay for 30 minutes--mind, I’d already paid him 40 dollars cash in advance, as he was recommended as a reliable young man--and he is actually a nice kid--so I was a bit taken aback by this announcement--told him this was only the first load, that there were two trips involved, and when would he be coming back to help? He wasn’t. That was a bit of a blow--especially since my back and foot were all but crying out in agony, by this time, and I was starting to physically feel like the walking dead.

So, I made a trip to the local day-hire place, only to be told yet again that I couldn’t do a thing without a credit card, that the day hire place didn’t accept cheques or cash…a business that doesn’t take cash? (She raises an eyebrow). Okay, well, trudge back to the flat for the rest (meaning most) of my stuff. Feeling a bit put out, about now, I was. But I was a good soldier and carried on--but not laughing, truth to tell.

Anyway, got back to the flat and saw the neighbour across the street out feeding his chickens, so I lassoed him and his daughter into helping me--for 35 dollars--on the condition that he wouldn’t have to do the stairs on account of his bad knee--oh, I forgot, in climbing up into the back of the truck with the TV set earlier, I ruptured the bursa sac in my left knee--and trust me, that HURT. So I was left handing the stuff down the stairs to him, he handed off to his daughter, who stayed in the back of the truck and shifted the stuff to the back…worked out quite well, actually. Mum and I used to use a similar system, when we had our flea market business and had to load the pick up truck up in the wee hours of a Saturday or Sunday morning.

 So, working together, we loaded most of everything--except for the bulk of my clothes and papers--I was simply out of steam and by the time I got to those items, just plain didn’t have anything left in me to shift any more stuff down the stairs. I was very much at the point of checking myself into the emergency room, I was that knackered and in awful pain. But…I carried on--most definitely NOT laughing, by this point--not crying yet, but I wasn’t a happy little camper, let me tell you.

I got back down to the city of Glens Falls…and the hunt was on for someone to help me move my things upstairs--by this time it was 6:30 PM. After 2 hours of searching the halfway houses, Veterans Home and literally the not so nice back streets…I finally found a cabbie to assist me--for 100 dollars. Okay, I don’t care at this point--if I’d had a million and he’d asked for it, I would have gladly handed it over--no joke. So, I wait and the guy sees the truck--asks if it’s full. I say yes. Okay, so far so good. It’s raining/snowing, I’m cold and tired and in pain--but by God, I’d found myself a mover--not.

The guy gets there, opens the back of the truck, looks at the stuff (would have taken a slow guy about 2 or 3 hours to shift it all, by my estimation). He declares that he won’t do the job for 100, he wants more. He knows he has me over a barrel, sadly. We haggle briefly, and he settles for 125--reluctantly. In the meantime, I told him I needed a mover as I was somewhat disabled and had a couple of injuries, besides. He shifts three boxes, then announces that he will bring the stuff in from the truck, but I have to cart it upstairs--this includes the furnishings! I, at this point, am just too damn tired and wrung out to give a damn anymore. And yes…I carry on. The cabbie brings up one more box--total of four…then announces he doesn’t want to do it, and I can just pay him now. I was just going to give him a five--but he looked like he was going to throw a girly fit on me, so I shoved a 20 at him and told him to take a hike.

So, back tooling around the streets in my yellow truck, trolling for moving help--to no avail--okay. I pulled over and started bawling, pleading with God to get me the hell out of this mess I was in--there was no physical way I was going to shift all that stuff by myself and still have the truck back by morning! I decided that I needed a time out, and dinner, for that matter, as I’d not eaten a bite all day--not that I was especially hungry, but needed something in my stomach, as I’m a diabetic. So I went to the New Way Lunch hot dog stand, and ordered a hot dog and a Coke. The waitress noticed that I was upset, and very kindly asked if I was okay--I let out my tale of woe--and you know what? Ten minutes later I had a mover! Seems the kid behind the lunch counter was an air force brat and was an experienced mover as a result of a lifetime of shifting about from base to base--and here’s the really weird part: he was one of the former occupants of my apartment! No, really. He lived in my building--in my very apartment--for two years. This is a city of 15,00 people--and Glen St. and the surrounding streets are mostly nothing but apartments--loads of old Victorian buildings--and an old school--apartments and flats abound in this area. What are the chances that he’d lived in mine? Weird.

Anyway--all’s well that ends well--the young man showed up on time--12:30 PM, moved everything in less than an hour, took my cheque for 100 dollars without a fuss, swept out the van and left.

But…still had to get the van gassed up, back to the rental place and call a taxi. By now it’s 1:30am on Monday--and I had to be to work at 9am. I gas up the truck--and can’t pay, as the attendant on is making sandwiches for a couple of state policemen and can’t seem to be able to do more than one thing--literally--at a time, and the cops ordered four sandwiches! So I had to wait 20 minutes to pay for my gas. I didn’t get home to the new place until 2:40 in the morning--and into bed until 3am. Slept in my clothes--didn’t even bother to remove my shoes, I was that exhausted.

But wait, as the adverts say, there’s more! After getting out of work, I grab a cab to the flat to get the rest of my stuff. No prob, right? Wait a mo, you haven’t heard all of the tale. I get to the old flat, only to find a note demanding I mop and vacuum before I leave! I’d already done that, but tracked dirt in from outside whilst moving, it seems. Well, the vacuum was broken--dropped while moving, so I swept the rugs as best I could. I couldn’t see where I needed to mop--but did it anyway--and loaded 8 heavy bags of clothes and four boxes full of misc. papers and other items downstairs. Called the cab--told them to bring a van as I had a big load--unplugged the phone, rolled up the line, stuffed it into a box and waited for my cab--and waited, and waited. Mind you, it’s below freezing outside, by this time, and the heat to the building’s been shut off…even tho’ my notice gave me to the 20^th--and the 21^st was still a couple of hours off. So I waited…the van came by nearly an hour later--breezed past…and kept going on north towards Warrensburg. I thought, “oh heck, he’ll figure it out and turn around soon--the town line’s only half a mile on.”

Ha! After waiting another 20 minutes, a grabbed the phone out of the box, unraveled the line, and trudged back upstairs and plugged the dang thing back in. Called the cab company--only to be told that the driver was out of radio contact! So, long story short…about 15 minutes later, he drives past again--and nearly hits me as I dash out to the side of the road to flag him down--then, he sees all my stuff-which, as you recall, I told the dispatcher I had--and tells me it will cost me an extra five dollars for the stuff--which he doesn’t bother to help me load! My last five, mind. I am really not happy, by now, but again, too tired and in far too much pain to give a damn about, overmuch anyway. So I get back to the new place in the city. A kid from the office happens by and helps me carry the stuff up to the front door..no compensation required, if you can imagine that? So after 8 trips, I do manage to finally be done moving in--at 1am precisely on Tuesday morning.

I slept for a week--in between work and some phone calls from the little grocers across the street and a bit of shopping. The big Thanksgiving holiday (2^nd in America, only to Christmas), I went to the good ol’ Presbyterian church down the street (no excuses not to go to church anymore, ey? J) and had a wonderful free Thanksgiving dinner: cheese and

crackers with punch to start, in a room off the sanctuary, then downstairs to the hall for dinner:  Pumpkin-squash soup, fresh roast turkey, 3 veg and mashed, homemade bread stuffing, cranberry jelly, dinner rolls--I’d left no room for the homemade pie, I’m afraid. They even had people designated to sit with you, if you were alone, to converse with you…that was a nice touch, I thought…although my guy seemed really shy and conversationally awkward--something I relate to really well, for the first three quarters of my life so far--I thought it was  a lovely do.

Then, I came home to the new place--only to find a note stuffed under my door that the the realty company (they are selling the building, it turns out) was showing the apartments to prospective buyers the next day--cutting it fine with the notice, as state law requires 24 hour notice for a landlord to enter your apartment--barring an emergency.) Anyway, spent most of Thanksgiving day unpacking and making the apartment presentable--and clearing a path to walk, besides, with all the boxes and such---in between watching every episode of Series II of Doctor Who, and playing computer cribbage--and soothing the still-pouting cats. (Note: most cats--unless they’re a bit off in the head--don’t really care to be shifted.)

But, I’m mostly moved it--just some more books and odds and ends lying about. Getting a new stove--the old gas stove isn’t working properly--found out by almost gassing myself, ha-ha. And things are coming along--going ten rounds with the cable/phone/internet service--seems prior tenant skipped out on his or her bill, and I have to provide the service with a notarized copy of my lease before they will even agree to come! The only time I have free during the day, is my (way too short) half-hour lunch, so that’s a bit of a challege.

I took a half-day off from work last week, to go have the foot x-rayed, and yes, I did fracture it--but not badly, thankfully--don’t even have a bandage on it. It aches a bit, but is tolerable--my knee--that’s not too good, but the back is gradually getting better…and I’m catching up on my sleep.

Next challenge: My day job ends Jan 1^st, and goes to just 4 or 5 hours a night--so I have to get busy and find a day job for after the new year. Fortunately, I can keep the night job, and even work weekends if I want on this job, so that’s not so bad. Two jobs would be tiring, but it would be nice to be able to buy extras (ie: new knickers, snow boots, new keyboard for the computer, an actual professional haircut--I butcher my hair I’m sorry to say.)

So that’s what’s going on with me, at any rate, as of 29 November, anyhow. Not been fun. I’m hoping I’ll laugh about this, someday, but….we’ll see.

Doctor Who questions and thoughts.

30^th Nov. 2006

Well, yours truly really misses her internet--not just the blogging, but visiting my different Doctor Who websites as well.

Watching and re-watching all the new series episodes though, has left me time to reflect on various aspects of the show. It’s also left me pondering a few questions.

For instance, in Doomsday--the last episode of Series II---right after the Doctor goes to close the Void--Dalek Sek disappears--quite literally into thin air. Where does it go? Leaving me to wonder--was Dalek Sek sucked into the Void, or will Dalek Sek be back for Series III?

Speaking of the Void, why wasn’t the Tardis sucked into the Void? She’s a living thing, in a way…as we’re told that she was grown, not built, in Impossible Planet. Why couldn’t the Doctor just have shuttled everyone into the Tardis to protect them, if the Tardis was Void-proof? Maybe he wasn’t sure, maybe he just didn’t think about it, maybe he was being a typical guy in middle-age crisis and just didn’t want the responsibility of worrying about Rose anymore? Most likely tho’, maybe the writer never thought about it…guess I’ll never know for sure, ey?

And, although in the end, it proved a good thing she was there (to help re-set the lever that closed the Void), really the Doctor had planned on doing it all himself, or he’d not have sent her back to the parallel earth with alternate Pete and her mother Jackie, would he? Or would he? So, technically, Rose could have been shunted off to the Tardis without much muss, fuss or bother--or maybe there wasn’t time? I’m just thinking about…well, nothing, really…I don’t write the show or have anything to do with it, these days, except watch the re-runs. I don’t even write fan fiction any longer (at least not for the present), so who am I to say, what is and what isn’t, ey?

For another thing, in School Reunion, Anthony Head’s character (wasn’t he just fantastic?) Headmaster Fitch is supposedly killed by the explosion of the oil caused by K-9---however, we never actually see his demise, do we? Did the headmaster perish, or will he be back to mess with the Doctor yet again (wouldn’t that be brilliant?) Or, did the director just either not shoot or cut the scene for production reasons? Your guess is as good as mine, but I think Fitch is just about one of the best villains Who has had in ages--of course, that’s merely my own opinion, and I’ve no idea if anyone else feels that way.

I keep going back to all the references in Series II, to the unusually cold temperatures--significant? Or just the writer’s way of getting around having to film summer scenes in off-season temps?

The Doctor keeps going on about bananas… “Bananas are good.” in both Series I and II…what’s with that? Just conversational filler--or something more? Or does the writer(s) producer(s) just have a banana fetish?

Since when doesn’t the Doctor like cats--he’s always liked cats--as I recall Doc 6 thought they were quite tasty, or maybe David Tennant is allergic, ha-ha.

So the Doc revels he was a dad once--not too huge a shocker for us older die-hard fans, but still--significant revelation, or just something the producer decided to stick into the conversation to make things more interesting?

The Doctor’s lost his physic paper…will he lose his sonic screwdriver as well? I hope not…love the ol’ sonic screwdriver…for that matter, will he get more physic paper? Not a bad plot device, that--tho’ sometimes a bit overused, I think. Maybe not…dunno’.

So a runaway bride got into his Tardis…will anything else get into the Tardis in Series III? Hmmm---.

Well, that’s all the time I have for pondering, tonight. Must pop off to bed, as it’s past midnight…first time I’ve stayed up late in over a week--slept so much in the past week and a half--I’ll be wide awake for a month! Won’t need my Vermont Green Mountain Breakfast Blend coffee in my old -fashioned blue enamel “butch” Adirondack coffee pot, ha-ha--I think I’ve caught up on all that lost sleep and passed it by, by now. Now if I can just get my daft ol’ knee to work properly again…

30^th Nov. Addendum: Dear God!

I think a better title to this post would be: The Natives are Restless, Somebody  Stop Those Drums! Or: why rugrats (of any age) should be banned from owning stereos.

Yeah, I’ve had, oh….all of about 3 hours sleep, since I got home from work, yesterday. The really lousy heavy metal music (have I mentioned I detest heavy metal? I’d rather listen to ten hours of a Wagner on the accordion and bagpipes, than listen to heavy metal, punk or rap music--really, I speaking in the literal sense here). Yeah, it was blasting away when I got home at 5:30. I went out at 6:30--gave up the ghost and went to do a couple of loads, to catch up a bit on the washing. Got back at 8 and all was quiet in the jungles of  my part of Glens Falls….until I went to bed, that is, at 11 pm. At 11: 17, the drums started in. No way I could sleep through “boom-boom-ba-boom-boom,” so I got up, made some microwave popcorn, put on a little of my own music--which I could barely hear through the other stereo’s noise--and played some cribbage on the computer, thinking it might stop by midnight--did not. By 1am, it was so loud, there was no sleeping at all--you could hear it right outside on the street, and it was consistently getting louder, the little miserable rugs! I’m told the couple’s in their early 20’s but I’m thinking--12 years old?

Anyway, the way the building is, all the apartments are grouped with separate entrances…second floor entrance on my side is for just the two upstairs left apartments, the downstairs all have their own separate entrances, the upstairs right apartments are entered from the rear--and the outside door is kept locked--so it’s not a matter of just knocking on the door and asking politely for them to keep it down. I tried knocking on their wall and calling out, but the little…dears…just turned it up louder..some of the other tenants were less than pleased, but would do nothing. Not me. I got out of my jim-jams and back into my street clothes, marched downtown…and found that Glens Falls’s downtown is pretty much devoid of pay phones--only one is at the bus station, about 10 blocks down from where I live. So, I rang up the police--and left the landlord a polite but strained voicemail message. Got back at 1:45, and all was reasonably quiet..still playing the stereo, but down enough one could barely hear it. Until 2:20 am--up it went again…and kept on until 4:30 in the morning, when it was finally turned off…until it was blasted again at 5 am--and finally turned off--heard someone yelling at them--at 5:30.

Yes, it’s the neighbours from hell. Lovely. The other neighbours are pretty nice, and reasonably quiet--one man stomps around a bit at 3am, and the people across the way from me have a barking, howling dog--that doesn’t do that for long or too often--and it’s really not bad…until the rugrats moved in, over the weekend. So, now I have to make collections calls (actually, it’s easier than selling, but a bit tiring, being yelled at a lot) with all of 3 hours sleep.

And, tho’ it’s unnaturally warm for this time of year, it’s also rather gloomy and quite rainy--and I’ve yet to find my umbrella, so it seems I’m going to be wet on the way to work--and likely late for work as well, as it’s 8 am and usually by this time I’ve had my breakfast, showered and changed and am either am doing a spot of housework or leaving for work early, by now. I’m still in my pyjamas, eating breaky, and pondering having to spend my lunch hour at the bank, getting the money out for the phone/internet man, when he finally decides to show up. Lovely.  Oh well, if I’m late, I will just have to work late. Never been late before, so they can’t kick about that--there’s such a high turnover at my office in help, that they love anyone who shows up on time and works their scheduled shift always. I made 14 sales on Monday, (only 5 on Tuesday, sadly), and got 27 people to cough up some money for their past-due bills on Wednesday, so they sort of like me.

So, breaky’s nearly done and I’m off…gosh, I’m am so incredibly tired tho’, I’m not going to have a fun day, today!

30^th Nov. (evening)

Well, managed to get through a day of collections calls--only a couple of screamers, not many sales, but on the whole people were reasonably civil--tho’ it still appalls me how many of my fellow Americans don’t even have basic language skills--I mean, we are known world-wide for our lousy spelling (I’m proof of that, I’m afraid)…more than once I’ve seen adverts for restaurants serving “chicken cordon blue” and “lobster bisk.” I’ve seen American bulletin boards on North American club websites, where the spelling of the adults is worse than some 4^th grade elementary kids. But, our average newspapers have seriously reduced column inches (the space allotted to stories), stuck huge colour photos in the fold (the center of the front page) in lieu of stories, and the average American newspaper--which 25 years ago, was written on the sophomore high school (10^th year here) level--is now written on the middle school (7^th year) level--or lower! I recently read an adult rag that I swear was written expressly for 5^th graders--no joke.

I think some Americans actually like being ignorant--

Okay, I hate the word “ignorant.” To me, it’s just a fancy name for deliberate stupidity. But really--learning and thinking take effort and care--and Americans are inherently lazy, I’m sorry, but we just are. Too much being handed to us all the time, we’re a bit like spoiled children, sometimes, I think…and Washington doesn’t help--taking away rule after rule that governs civilized behaviour and yet, making things harder as well, for people to live in comfort. That leads to anarchy, I’m afraid.    

So, those are my opinions--feeling a bit feisty tonight, blame it on lack of sleep and PMS (sorry, guys, but that’s the truth).

So, I made myself a cheap beef stew--frozen stew veg (1.59 a bag, on sale), a bit of stew beef (1.79 on sale) and some “homemade” (bouillon cubes and flour paste) beef gravy, throw in some bay leaf and a bit o Worcestershire sauce and black pepper, and I’ve got a supper fit for…well, fit for me, at any rate. Toss in some buttered rolls, and I’m a happy little camper--or at least, my stomach is.

Still warm and rainy here--just 3 or 4 hours south of Canada--but down in Texas (not far from Mexico) they are having a blizzard and ice storm! Weird weather.

Going tonight to pop in to the library, to see one of my old English profs, Paul Pines, give a poetry reading from his latest book of poetry. He’s a poet of some small reknown--mostly locally, but he’s had some national nods as well. I’ve also got to pop round to the chemists, and pick up some ear plugs--maybe then I can actually get some sleep at night, but not holding my breath. Well, I’m off to the Crandall Library and a night of poetry (yawn)--Prof. Pines was a great teacher, and even tho’ I don’t like poetry as much as I used to, I want to be there to hear what he’s written--he’s very innovative and thought-provoking, and I learned a lot about “thinking outside the box” from him--even if my poetry did suck…although, I did have one poem that I wrote for his class, published, in a small publication based in Chicago, once.

The three cats are content--all three keeping my bed all toasty warm with their sleepy little bodies--not sure how I feel about them laying on my pillow, but..oh, what the heck, at least they’re happy.

Memories, from the Corner of my Mind…whoops, sorry, that’s a song.

Anyhow, I’ve been thinking on mum a bit, lately. I’ve a photo of her, taken, oh, about 15 years ago, in my sister’s apartment, where mum is sitting on the ratty old brown overstuffed sofa, holding my infant nephew--just under a year old, I think…even in diapers and his jim-jams, he still sort of looked then, as he does now…although my nephew is umpteen feet tall and wearing man-size shoes, at 16 years of age.

But I miss mum, quite a bit, sometimes…I miss our conversations--even our fights--okay, not the bad one’s, but the little spats where we would hug each other after and say we’re sorry and carry on as if we’d never disagreed on anything whatsoever. I miss our dinner conversations. Tho’, I’m sure, mum likely got tired of me talking about stuff going on at school, or what happened on a trip, and the like. I liked it when mum talked about her family, and the stuff they used to do--especially trips to the family farm in Ancram, NY back in the 30’s, or trips to the family’s rented camp, at Hero, on Lake Champlain. We’ve loads of photos of family members with these enormous strings of trout, bass and pike.

She sometimes spoke of how she was made to sleep in the same room as her dead grandmother, as back then, the dead were waked in the palor of the house. And there was nowhere for mum to sleep, that time, but on the sofa near the coffin. She was about 8 or 9, I think. When mum went to visit the farm, she had to contend with the resident goose, whenever she needed to spend a penny in the old outhouse…the goose would chase mum in there, hissing and squaking and fanning his feathers…and chase her out again, when she was done. She used to talk about how she hated the butchering of the chickens--them flopping about headless, and the smell of the singed pinfeathers.

Mum would talk about her dad and when he was a pressman--how he was so very depressed, when he’d invented the device that automatically stops the presses, when a man’s hand is caught in there, while working at the New York Daily News, and the idea was taken out of his hands, and patented by grand dad’s boss--and grand dad got naught for his efforts…it changed grand dad, I’m told. Grand dad was a great inventor and liked to make things. He liked his model railroad and played the nimble jack and harmonica. He ran the loud speaker system at local polo matches, as well.  He ran the local theater in Rennselaer, NY, as well, for a time. He used to go ice skating at the Hudson NY cemetery pond with mum, when she was small.

But mum sometimes hinted that her dad had a darker side, as well. She always believed that her dad was unfaithful to her mum. It seems there was a mystery girl somewhere west of Albany, NY, and mum never could get the straight of it. It bothered mum considerably, although she only spoke of it, once or twice in my lifetime. Her dad had a live in girlfriend, after grandma died, so I think mum was being more perceptive than paranoid, on that count.

Mum would talk about how she had wanted to go to fashion school in New York City, to be a dress designer..but her mum talked her into going to stenotype school in Albany, instead. I suspect that’s maybe why mum was always to keen on me doing what I wanted to do, and not what life’s circumstances might force me into doing, for my living. She was a good drawer…could do people and clothes pretty well, for someone totally untrained as an artist--but life sort of beat mum down, towards the end--well, that and dad. Dad was a frightened, petty, jealous and less than mature man. Don’t get me wrong, I did love him, but dad had some serious issues that were never addressed. And dad had a tendency to take his fears, his insecurities and his feelings of helplessness, out on us. He was always at me to “get a state job.” Didn’t matter what I wanted, money was the only thing that impressed dad--money, material items, power. I have no idea why mum married dad--they were polar opposites, in how they each viewed the world around them. But with dad, year in and year out, putting mum down and denying her things and just generally being a right miserable bastard, at times, mum kind of centred her life on us kids, and gave up her dreams forever--although, mum admittedly loved being a mum.

And gosh, didn’t she just enjoy being a librarian/library director. And mum loved her genealogy..and her books. Her favourite authors were Jean Plaidy, Mary Higgans Clark and Jack Higgans. She liked books about WWII espionage, towards the end of her life, for some reason. And, like me, she enjoyed reading about local history--especially the stories. It’s true that fact really can be more interesting and stranger, than fiction ever dreamed of.

I liked those stories: some comic, some tragic, all fascinating.

There’s one tale of Saratoga Lake, back between the times of Queen Anne’s War and the Revolution. Saratoga Lake is rather large…but it’s also very, very deep. The local Native Americans had a superstition about the lake: Do not talk while paddling a canoe across the lake, or the evil spirit of the lake would tip your canoe over and consume you. Well, it seems that two white settlers hired these two Indians to paddle them across Saratoga Lake. The Indians would only do it, if the white people promised not to talk. It was agreed. Halfway across, the woman settler couldn’t take the silence--it was a broad lake and took awhile to paddle across in a big canoe. So she blurts out something like, “it’s so quiet,” or something like that. The Indians stopped paddling, appalled. But after looking at each other a moment, they resumed paddling. The white man said to them later, on shore, “I thought you said the evil spirit would take us for speaking, see, it’s just a foolish superstition.” The Indians simply looked at the wife and shrugged, one saying, “Oh, the evil spirit knows you can’t keep women silent.” A Native American version of the do-over? In golf terms, with a woman present, the evil spirit takes a mulligan.

In the mid-19^th century city of Albany, there were myriad little cemeteries scattered in a place known as the State Street Burial Ground (now known as Washington Park). Body snatching for medical schools was a thriving business. One night, an upstanding citizen of Albany was walking past the burial ground on his way home, when he noticed some suspicious activity. He hid in some bushes, and watched to sleezy guys pull up to a fresh grave with a wagon--which the citizen noted was from a local livery stable. The two guys begin digging up the fresh grave--but when they get down to the body, they hauled it out and placed the coffin in the back of the wagon…then decide they’d worked enough for the time being, and go off to a nearby tavern for a bottle of gin or whiskey. The concerned citizen gets an idea. He hauls out the body and hides it, then actually climbs into the coffin--I kid you not, this really is a true story---and waits for the return of the would be body thieves. They come back, finally, and standing next to the wagon, one says to the other, “how ‘bout another little nip?” and holds out the bottle. Concerned citizen pipes up in his most chilling, unearthly voice, “don’t mind if I do, it’s cold in the grave and these old bones could do with a little snort.” The two body snatchers gave a start and ran away screaming like little girls. Concerned citizen put the body back in the grave, replaced the dirt over it, then climbed into the wagon and took it back to the livery stable whence it came, laughing all the way.

Sometimes Life is Worse than a Dalek: or dealing with National Grid and other utilities

Okay, still trying to wrestle with getting phone/internet service. Seems the 50 some-odd dollars that the cable company told me I needed to give them for the honor of having them come and connect me, was misquoted. When I called to confirm the appointment (over a week wait for that, and I would have to take a half-day off (unpaid) from work, as well), the lady on the phone informed me that the amount was actually 106 dollars! Told her that’s not what I was told--then she informs me that the person had signed me up for standard cable tv service (I’d merely enquired about the cost of the basic plan), and that the cost for all three was 106 dollars a month, payable up front, at installation. Well, nuts to that. I’m calling today to cancel. I haven’t had tele in nearly 2 years, I can live without it a bit longer.

So, I’m off today to make a passel of phone calls to both the telephone and cable companies, to see if I can do something better, within my meager budget. Worse comes to worse, I will have to buy a mobile phone and do without internet and TV service--for a while longer, anyhow.

After nearly two weeks, my mail has finally caught up with me. Which means I just got my new National Grid bill---700 dollars plus! They do this all the time! They keep taking me off the budget plan (roughly 80 dollars a month) which I’ve stuck to and we’ve agreed on. I’m so angry with National Grid, I could chew nails. I mean, what’s the point of making a budget plan, if the greedy little mindless apes at NG are going to dishonor their word all the time? I miss the old power company--a local NY company--Niagara Mohawk, those people were human beings. I’m not sure who runs National Grid, but I’ve a feeling that they are not quite as human as the Nimo people we were used to dealing with. I suspect Hitler was easier to deal with than National Grid.

Anyhow, fed the cats, now I have a long day of phone calls and trying to shop for food that fits within my tiny food budget…and I have the long trek down to the one dollar store, to see if I can find a cheap mop…been doing my kitchen and bath floor with a hand-held sponge, not great for the old back and knees, I must say. Somehow my mop got left behind. And, my vacuum cleaner was dropped and now no longer works, so I’ve got the do my rugs with a broom and dust pan.

 My life just plain is no fun at all. But then, I guess I’ve had all the fun I’m ever going to--more than some people have done, in their life times--so who am I to complain? I’ve done some traveling, seen things I never thought I’d see, was able to do hobbies and such. I can’t do any of that now, but I did get to do it before, so I’m not going to complain. Boring really isn’t that awful. I mean, it’s neither negative or positive for me. It just…is. For me, these days, boring means that nothing bad is happening at the moment--no big anxieties, or pain, or fear, so boring isn’t really negative, I suppose. But it does make the days long, sometimes, I do admit, and the nights even longer. That’s why I valued the internet and my Doc Who DVD’s so highly. They kept me from just laying around staring at the ceiling, for want of anything better to do.

Yesterday, we had thunderstorms and tornado warnings, today the great heaving grey clouds are scuttling across the sky, amid snow flurries. I cannot help but wonder, is this a harbinger of what this day is to bring to me?

2^nd December, one hour later.

I don’t know what to say, what to think, what to write. National Grid has killed me. The inhumane bastards and their stupid system have done me in. I just don’t have in me, to do this anymore. Even if I go back on their Goddamn budget plan--they factor in the usage of the previous tenant for the last three months or something like that, into what I myself have to pay---in this case, the budget plan is nearly 350 dollars a month! I was paying between 80 and 90, and that was difficult to meet, as it was…but 350…might as well be 350 million. I only make 1100 dollars a month, rent due third week of the month is 600…the math just won’t work, here. I might as well be dead. Really, would you want to live like this? What the hell’s the point? I don’t see a point, anymore. What’s the point of going out to a job everyday, if you can’t even afford to feed yourself? What the hell’s the point?

Every time I start to get back on my feet nowadays, the baseball pitcher of life throws me another curveball…and more often than not, they hit me in the face. I wish I’d killed myself, back in September. God, I wish I had. I can’t take this pain and isolation anymore, this totally meaningless existence. I’ve my friends across the pond, but is that enough, anymore? Is it enough, just to exisit? To breathe the air? What have I, to offer life? I am nothing. I am no one. If I die in the next breath, less people will miss me, than I’ve fingers on my right hand.  Despite the encouragement and support of my few friends, right now I feel so alone, so deep in pain, so incredibly worthless.

What I wouldn’t give at this moment, for a time machine. So I could go back to a “normal” existence--to a time when I could work for a living--because I wanted to, not just so I could have a roof over my head and heat and…maybe a little food, now and then. I hate my country so very much. I know I am not alone in my situation--there are millions of us, and the numbers are only growing--and, unlike other countries in the world, America’s social system is severely broken…sliced away, bit by bit, to pay for wars and corporate tax breaks and a national disaster that only occurred, because the federal government cut funding to fix broken levy’s. The governmental safety net is fragile and virtually non-existent.

I’m likely to find little, if any, assistance. Perhaps a stave off in my shut off notice--oh yes, National Grid is shutting me off, even tho’ I’ve paid  EVERY bill since March, when I went on the plan. What’s the point? Somebody please tell me, because I’ve lost it. What’s the point of breathing, of having a heartbeat and a mind and a soul, if all there is, is just…nothing. Even if by some miracle, I find a second job--and now I can’t even afford a telephone, thanks to NG. Even in this small city, not having a car severely curtails one’s ability to look for work, as most businesses are located in the suburbs…there’s really few businesses in downtown Glens Falls, outside of some insurance companies and the banks…and I’ve a math learning disability, so working at a bank is pretty much out, for me.

So, outside the windows of my living room--left the curtains off, as I didn’t have the money to buy any, and I live high enough that few if anyone, can see in--the snow continues to fall.

Believe it or not, I used to love days like this. I used to love to hear the late autumn wind rattling the dead leaves on the trees, feel the snow on my cheek, watch the clouds scuttle across the sky. Days like this, I used to go hiking in the woods with the dogs, or later, to the horse auction to visit with acquaintances, or to the library to browse the stacks. I used to love Saturdays like today…now I can only remember them. Like Christmas.

Oh, I used to love Christmas. Mum wouldn’t allow me to decorate until the end of the first week of December. We’d get our tree the second weekend of December and make this big deal of decorating…actually, sometimes getting the tree itself (if we were using a live on) was in itself, a big deal. A couple of years, I even went into the woods and cut down a spruce with my own two hands, and dragged in home on the end of a rope, if there was snow--or over my shoulder, if there wasn’t. Mum would make a big production out of ensuring the tree was perfectly decorated--and I would be just as bad, I admit. ‘Tho it did get a bit of a bother, after a couple of hours of fussing with ornaments and lights, only to have mum say--“you left a gap,” or “Those ornaments/lights don’t look properly balanced to me.” Or, the dreaded (after I’d finally done decorating) “the tree’s crooked.” That meant getting down on my hands and knees and very carefully adjusting the screws that hold in the tree--without knocking any decorations off, or blowing out any lights.

We’d shop together for presents, and I’d wrap things ever so carefully. We’d sit one night, with the Christmas music playing, and make out the Christmas cards…we’d go to Christmas bazaars and parades and tree lightings, we’d stroll around Saratoga’s downtown and the mall, admiring the shop window decorations. It was a big deal, as little as 2 years ago. We even had the tradition of buying each other one special ornament for the tree, each year.

All that’s gone, now. Even the Christmas decorations--lost in the move back in March, after I’d lost the house. Accidentally taken to the town dump by the guy I hired to haul unwanted things away. No one to celebrate with, to share with, anymore, so Christmas last year, was my first, totally alone and totally without meaning, and this year makes my second, as well. The sun’s shining, the snow has ceased, the wind’s died down a bit, and no longer rattles the windows. But I’m still here in my apartment, alone--well, not totally. Flame, the minute I came in here, crying, put herself in my lap and has spent the entire time while I write this, sitting forward but with her head reared back, gazing at my face, worried. My only physical comfort, now. I know that I’ve the comfort of my far-distant friends, and these three things are the only things that are sustaining me, now. I had hoped to be able to go to the post office today, to buy some airmail stamps so that I might send my friends some letters, but now even that’s being denied me, with this new bill. Unfortunately, I still have to buy some food and do laundry, but it will be a bleak, stark Christmas this year. I had thought, when I woke this morning, that since I was going to the one dollar store for a cheap mop, that I might also look into getting one or two Christmas decorations--but now those plans are gone. I will not celebrate this year. I will not celebrate ever again. It’s just not meant to be. I will try to survive this blow that National Grid has heaped on me, but now I realize that my life--life itself, is completely meaningless for me. I was born, I lived..someday, God willing, I will die.

I still have the comfort of knowing I have friends (at least, I hope so) and that I still have at least three cats…but knowing that’s all…I wonder, now, will this be enough? Is this enough? I don’t know. Guess it will just have to be, not like I have any choices open to me, is there?

Life’s a bit of a drag, when one door opens and the next one is slammed in your face. I haven’t had tele in nearly two years, it’s been 15 months since I last went out to a movie, and about the same since I’ve been to the theater. I haven’t been able to rent a movie in about 10 months, and now have no internet service, except for 10 minutes here and there, some days, at work. Don’t even want to think what my e-mail in-box looks like. I can’t use the library, because I still owe over 100 dollars in fines from when mum took ill and lost a mess