I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

Okay, let me ask this: how many straight guys do you know, that wear a lot of velvet jackets, ey?

Of course, I come from a corner of the world, where NASCAR jackets and hunting camoflage, are considered the manly height of fashion. :p

Hi all,

Haven't been around much this week--a lot harder being online during day shift, than nights and weekends.

Someone's nicked something from my cubicle at work again--this time a worthless gimcrack, a cheap plastic mini decorative plate, on an easel, that a co-worker gave me. What makes me worry, is that if this person will steal a worthless knick-knack, that came from the one-dollar store--this same person is handling thousands of personal records, and getting banking and credit card info. This theivery never used to happen here, but since the big pay cut/lay off this summer, when old workers left in droves, the company seems less inclined to screen new workers, and are just hiring whomever applies---last night, they were talking to some young, sloppily dressed guy, who spoke with a bad lisp! Wow, talk about going downhill in a hurry.

Anyway, it snowed here for two days straight--from 8am on Tuesday, until 11pm Wednesday. We got about 14 inches of new snow, on top of the four to six inches we had on the ground, already. Now we're headed into the deep freeze, with temps predicted to go down to zero (-17 C) or lower.

Things were slow here, so I picked up a hunting club magazine--the cover struck me as typically American: a photo of a 7 year old walking in a field, with a golden retreiver following alongside him, carrying a small shotgun over his shoulder--oh, that's charming, ey? Nothing tugs at the heartstrings like a picture of a seven year old with a lethal weapon and a puppy.

I've got a cold, but am managing so far to get through my shift, even witha bad sore throat. Got throroughly chilled yesterday, and so I guess I'm in for that bad cold that's been making the rounds here. Ah well, at least it's not pnuemonia, so I can't complain.

Take care all, and have a lovely weekend. Nancy G.

I don't have any hobbies, any longer--well, I write. Whoo-hoo. Big flipping deal--if you could read those two Dr Who stories and the play, you'd know what I mean. Bleh. Though I gotta' admit, David Tennant's Doctor is really a blast to write about. Eccleston was okay, but Tennant's got the goods, as far as I'm concerned. He's nailed it, (the part/character) bang-on, if you ask me.

Speaking of Mr. Tennant, I wish I could see his Hamlet-gosh, that would be interesting. I am dying to know how he's going to portray the character. Maybe he himself, doesn't know that yet, who knows? Hamlet is such a complex character, I think.

About four years ago, I took a crash course in World Literature at Castleton State--I'd had to take the Spring semester off, due to the sudden death of my dad, my mum's equally sudden bad turn with her kidney failure, and my just as sudden extreme illness, that I contracted---along with half my other college's study group---while in Egypt. So, to make up the classes, I took a few summer courses--these are 3 month courses that are taught in six weeks...ouch. But, it was okay. Except getting caught in the traffic jams (tailbacks) behind those elderly tourists and their big, slowmoving caravans. Ugh!!! There was only one way to get to Vermont from my Adirondack home, and that was on the equivilent of a bad B road, otherwise known as the dreaded Route 149 (dreaded as it has often proved dangerous and even, fatal, because there's so few places to pass safely).

Whoops! Got off the beaten path, didn't I? Sorry.

Anyway, we had to, in two weeks, do a through study of Hamlet. Wow. That was TOUGH. But, it was fun, too. I'd always longed to study Shakespeare (our public/state schools, when I grew up, didn't dwell overmuch on the bard, sadly). We got stuck reading 'Failsafe,' and watching the movie Romeo and Juliet, in high school--and I have to admit, I was more interested in the costumes and sets, then I was in the story, at 15 years of age.

It wasn't until I was 42, that I even saw a Shakespearean play live onstage (MacBeth), which, I must say, was awesome!

Anyway, I enjoyed delving into Hamlet, and we watched the movie twice. One thing I remember though, is that our professor asked us, after we'd read, I think, about halfway into the story, to discuss how we each saw the character--I mean, how we envisioned him, what motivated him, etc. Funny, each person saw the character of Hamlet, very, very differently. I remember, I got a laugh when I said that I saw him as a bit of a mama's boy. Well, some of the students laught, the prof didn't think it was so funny, apparently.

But, what I meant was, that I saw him as this sheltered guy, living with his parents, privlidged and all...and suddenly, his world's turned upside down. Dad's dead, mum's an adultress, and uncle's a murderer--of course he's gonna' flip out, and be ticked off and all!

Well, that's how I see it, anyway. They're locking up the office, gotta run. Have a nice night, all.

Well, it's Monday, ey?

I walked to work three times today, and three times have been sent home---both the phone lines and the computer system that runs the programmes are down. May not have work tomorrow, either, if they can't fix things...even the copier is acting up, I guess. It's all going haywire here, today.

Means I have to work Friday--normally, these days, a day off. It's useful having two days off, now. That way, if I miss time during the week, it's much easier to squeeze in the time to make the work hours up, later.

Thankfully, it was a super nice day, today, so I had no reason to be grumpy about all that wasted time. I needed the excersize and it really was gorgeous (well, as nice as it can be, in February, in Glens Falls, NY, ha-ha).

It's hard, being stuck home with so little entertainment, and pretty much the only human contact being, co-workers, cab drivers and till clerks. About ten years ago, I used to be a Meals on Wheels volunteer, for about three years in the 90's. I remember going into people's homes, and seeing them sitting there, often alone, watching daytime television or simply staring out the window.

I used to feel so bad for them. In fact, that's what spurred me on to try and save for a car, and to apply for aid to go to college full-time.

I was on disability, and not working--just doing volunteer work and looking after the apartment and my mum. There were few jobs for women, in the rural village where I was living, at the time...mostly till clerk and waitressing or hairdressing jobs. I managed to work at the local animal shelter for a bit, and then, after getting a car, I got a part-time jobs at the local Six Flags amusement park and also another animal shelter. And, I went to college for my 2 year degree in Liberal Arts/Humanities (with an eye on going on two or three more years for my 4 year BA in either theater management or journalism/communications).

Anyway, I used to fret that that (being alone at home with nothing much to do/little human contact) this would happen to me. And..it has. This is my life, my future, and it scares me, sometimes.

I'd give anything, literally sell my soul to the devil, to have something--anything, to hold on to. Just to have something momentus (in a good way) happen. Some straw of hope to grasp!

A day like today, gosh--I'd have loved to be out driving in my car, walking in the country, riding a horse, snowshoeing, visiting a historic house or musem, shopping at the mall (now you know that I'm really desperite), ANYTHING. Even telemarketing!

Well, I can live with it--have to, don't I? But it is its own sort of hell, sometimes, I must say.

As we slog forward into March, I look outside my windows at the warming, sunny skies--well, after a long, snowy, cold winter (we've had a constant blanket of snow on the ground here, since well before Christmas), my mind sometimes turns inward towards those first gentle days of early spring.

Well, Spring generally doesn't happen here, really, until mid to late April, but, by the end of March, we might just get a peep at an American robin, or a whiff of the fresh earth, weeping with the mud generated by the snowmelt.

"Ice out"--what we here in my part of the world, call it, when the ice finally breaks up on the lakes and rivers, is a wonderful time, full of white boiling rapids, and turning waterfalls into thundering wonders of nature's majesty.

Today, it was 30 F, and the new snow from yesterday is slowly melting in the half-hearted, watery winter sunlight. Still, 30 F, after such a long winter of nothing but white and brown, and lots more white, is a welcome change. Any day in winter, when one can walk down the pavement with one's coat open, is a wonderful day, in northeastern New York.

I love the spring, the lovely verdant greens, and the new flowers and blossoms, the bird song and kids laughing as they play in the yards. But, it's the smell of spring, I most recall, right at this moment--sort of the same, musty smell one might encounter, when one has opening a cellar door, after it being shut for a long time.

Spring is the uncorking of nature's wine.

I'm writing this today, because I've had far to many negative things to say, of late. And I'm sure some of you are ready to shout to me, "Pull yourself together!" Anyway, this is all I could think to write, today. I'm off from work, heading home to my soup and sandwich and the DVD of Runaway Bride again, and a read from Three Muskateers and a bit of a write, as well, in my naff Dr Who story. That's the plan, anyway.

Have a good weekend, all.

Just got my weekly pay packet--FULL pay!!! My student lender just ceased garnishing my wages! Instead of a hundred twenty some-odd dollars, I got 168! Whoa! Once those Social Security cheques come rolling in, Nancy's going to begin living like a human being again. Wow. I'll actually be able to afford to eat!

I've no idea why the stoppage, mind, and I will likely still get a 28,000 dollar bill from them, twice a month. No really. The Vermont student loan company actually does send someone living well below poverty level, a 28,000 dollar bill twice a month. I've literally never even HAD 28 grand. In fact, my possessions, if sold at auction, probably would be hard pressed to bring in a few hundred dollars.

Speaking of eating, I won't be doing much of that, this week. The rent's pass due, and I couldn't pay it. Also, there's the 180 dollar electric bill that's due this coming Wednesday--and me with a total net worth at the moment, of 208 dollars. Oh dear. Well, I'll manage. I've hung on for months, so I can hang in there for a few more weeks, anyway. I wish I hadn't of had to do the laundry, yesterday, but then, I wouldn't have had clean clothes for the next two weeks.

For your average poor American, life is just a series of trade-offs: Clean clothing, or food in the cupboard. Pay part of the rent, or keep you heat, cooker and lights going. Spend money on the Doctor's, or stay home and use the money for shampoo, vitamins, washing soap and cleaners and other vital necessities. For some of us, reality is not a television programme. We go to sleep with it, and wake up with it.

Speaking of sleep (great segway there, ey?), I've really been having some odd dreams, of late. Well, are any dreams not odd? Let's just say, odder than ususal.

After I did my morning chores around the apartment today, I sat up in bed and read for a bit. I suspect I'm highly anemic again, as I'm a bit woozy of late, and get out of breath and tire easily. Anyway, short of it is, I fell sound asleep...never meant to, mind. But, you know? It was one of the most relaxing, refreshing naps I've had in ages. It was only a bit over an hour, and I don't really like napping that much, but still...guess I must have needed it.

Still writing. Don't know what for, but, it's something to do, isn't it?

On the pet front, Flame has found a new game to play. To free up space in my two tiny closets, I hang my coats and jackets on the backs of the doors. Well, my heavy winter coat is a hooded Carhardt jacket. The outside is heavy duty denim. It's a big Farmer's jacket, and hangs down by it's hood, from some pegs on the closet door in my lounge.

Well, Flame has begun leaping up onto the sleeve of the coat, and then proceeds to climb her way to the top of the hood, where she hangs down, swaying gently, and chirupping proudly like she's Tarzan, at the two boys, Charile and Boots--who are simply too big and heavy to do this stunt--and then she decides to clamber back down again. She started this on Monday (the jacket's only been hanging there for two months, so I've no idea what suddenly gave her the notion to do this), now she's doing it three or four times a day--and, she only does it when the boys are around..showoff.

I don't mind, because it is a Cardhardt coat, and, besides being the warmest winter gear going (ask any farmer or construction worker), their clothing is virtually indestructable--I mean, it can be threadbare after years of hard use, and still be warm and cozy. There's no worry of claw marks damaging it, so I let her have her fun. It's a small apartment, so there's not really loads of room for them to run around in.

Well, I must get on. Have to run to the little store across the street, in a few minutes, as I'm out of one or two things, that I just plain can't do without.

"Gosh, my lips are sore! The BBC has me kissing companions, fan girls, Captain Jack, Daleks...but I think this kissing the controller's arse to get more funding, is just going a bit too far...although, it was rather kinky."

I suppose I went on a bit of a whinge, last night. Yes, I'm depressed. Cabin fever--I seriously need a diversion, but none are forthcoming. Tho', I did go to the laundromat today--and got a great deal on some laundry powder at the Family Dollar store, whoo-hoo!

So, I'm sitting here, post work, sipping my now cold peppermint tea, and trying to think of something witty to say---sorry, not feeling very witty, tonight. People were so awful to me tonight--they were screaming, and slamming phones and playing radios loud in my ear--BEFORE I got the blinking chance to even say "hello.." Life sucks and then you die. Telemarketing is very, very bad for self-esteem, when one suffers from depression, I'll have you know.

Someone told me I need to change jobs--I suppose I could also get a frontal lobotomy, or jump into the path of an oncoming freight train. That would stop this hell from happening every stinking night, as well. Ah well, it could be worse. I could be working at McDonald's.

I do try not to dwell too much on the fact that I'm in the one place I've tried for the past 30 some-odd years to avoid being in. Knowing that my life has become everything that I've never wanted it to be--and looks to always be that way, has been rather hard to deal with, to be quite honest. But, at least I tried--and tried and tried...to avoid this, over the years. Not just by going back to college, but in other ways, as well. Maybe that's why I've come to a full stop. Can't see the point of trying, any longer. Every thing just comes to naught, in the end, and I've formed the definite conclusion that I'm not going to succeed, no matter what. That's just my lot, in this life.

Oh dear, I'm on a whinge again, aren't I? Sorry.

So, besides the laundry today, I picked up the bedroom and wrote a few lines in one of my Doctor Who stories. I guess my biggest regret, is that I'm not a good enough writer to do it for a living (or trendy enough, or have the conncections) I'm sorry that I never got to finish my college writing courses, to get my minor in writing. It's like my life got just so far, and then I turned 45, and everything suddenly came to a full stop, and reversed, and stopped, and reversed again...etc, etc.

Well, I'm feeling a tad off, tonight. I developed a new symptom of my kidney failure (or, at least it was on the list that the hospital gave me) today. The eye is still slightly off, but seems a bit better today--though it could be that I'm just getting used to it.

Being arthritic since my late teens, (helped on by a lot of time in the cold and rain and snow, out of doors when I was younger), I've found one gets used to varying degrees of pain. I'd fractured my right knee at 20, and it still hurts, but outside of the occaisional unladylike word, now and again, when it grinds together and catches, suddenly, I barely even notice it. So, what I'm saying is, meh--I'll live. I don't want to give the impression that I always go about complaining of my varous aches and illnesses. I don't, really.

I wish I could see the new Dr Who series, when it comes out (in April?). However, I'm still enjoying watching my DVD's, each day. I'm a bit sick of playing cribbage and euchre on the computer, by now, though. And I do miss my internet radio...all those great artists that I've only recently discovered (see past posts..."what I'm listening to, today" from fall-December). I'm not even getting any interesting junk mail, these days. Ah well. spring's still a good month or two away, sadly.

Well, this is a boring post, is it not?

I have most of tomorrow off--just coming in for an hour, to make up some time I missed. So, off home, in the cold---supposed to snow again, bleh---to three cats, Dr Who, and a bacon, lettuce and mayonnaise sandwich and some crisps. Have a good night all, and a wonderful weekend, as well.

Here's some pics of places I'd rather be, right now:

"I love being the Doctor! I not only snogged Kylie--I got to look down her dress, as well!"

Wow, didn't get a single college pledge tonight--people were downright freaky and obnoxious (well, more freaky and obnoxious than usual), tonight. Maybe it's the lunar eclipse? I just took a peek at it, out the office window. The full moon's rising, directly over the Episcopal chruch next to our office building's car park, and there's just a sliver of shadow showing, now (9.05pm).

This is the first time for me to get zero pledges on the fund drive. Makes me feel bad, when I can't, or didn't, do well on my job.

Haven't seen a lunar eclispe in a while...gives me fodder for a future Dr Who story, tho'--maybe. I do love writing, but at the same time, it's mostly my only past time, and it's not so much a joy now, as just something to keep me busy--well, I've gone on from the mystery book I got at the libary book sale (The Bad Samaritan), and have moved on to another book from that same sale, The Three Musketeers. The hours alone are oh so long. My body, I think, though...the time off seems to be agreeing with it, tho' I still have little bouts of light-headedness and other problems, it's not as bad as before, and I'm not quite as run down as I was. My eye isn't any better, so I have to go do something about it, I suppose.

It takes FOREVER for me to get things done--including taking care of myself. I'm not able to walk all over like I did, a year or two ago, and almost solely depend on the bus/cabs, to get around. To grab a cab, I have to walk 10 minutes to the little store down the road, to call one...and then pay a lot of money for the fare. The local transit company mostly only runs one bus per route, so it's a long wait in the rain or cold or whatever, for your ride..if the bus goes where you need it to, in the first place. There's only one bus that goes near the hospital/doctor's, and it doesn't run very often, in the course of the day.

Then, there's the issue of finances. Medical care in the US is hugely, hugely expensive. As in, you can easily lose your home, go hungry, etc., because of medical bills, if you've got poor or no, insurance. I know socialized medicine isn't perfect, but how many of you in the UK, go hungry for no other reason than being sick? There's millions in the USA, doing just that, every single day.

It's hard, being on my own. I mean, I'm used to it, and I've been a bit of a loner before, so I probably am much better equipped to handle the isolation than a lot of other people. Still, there are times, when I'm sick or stressed or alone in the night, that I grieve for my mum, for my old life. I try really hard not to, but still...I'm only human, I suppose.

I understand that I'm to spend the rest of my life alone--I understand and, accept that. But, it's hard, knowing what my future is...knowing that it's always going to be this way...impoverished, alone, isolated. I'd like to find a way out of this hole life has dug for me, but...I just plain don't know how. I've just not got the energy to fight, any longer. I'm treading water on the stormy seas, and trying not to drown in my self-made prison. Yet, there are times--like when I was stuck in hospital, when I wish there was someone there, to look after me--or, at least, in on me, once in a while.

Oh, I've friends. Lovely, beautiful friends, whom I love dearly, and whom I'm blessed to know that they care for me. But, all of them are a thousand or miles away. They've never even met me, excpet through the internet, snail mail and a few phone calls. I don't have internet/e-mail now, or a phone. Oh, I have the internet at the office (still no e-mail, tho'), and people PM me on the Doctor Who Online website (dustyboots)...but for the most part, I'm cut off from the world, except when at work.

Sometimes, in the office, I say hello to people, and they treat me like I'm not even there, like I'm invisiable. Sometimes, walking down the pavement, I'll smile at a passerby, and be ignored. I said hello to someone last night, here in the office building, and was ignored. I went home, and looking at myself in the living room/lounge mirror, I couldn't help but wonder. If my long-distance friends, had met me in person instead of on the internet--would they have ever become my friend? If I were to ever meet any of these people, what would they think of me, in the flesh, so to speak? Would they change their feelings/opinions of me? Or would we be still good friends?

I look at my hands. I'm only 47, but they seem like old hands, all of the sudden. My face doesn't seem my own, any longer, but of some worn out old peasant woman. Not that I'm obsessed with aging or looks. You'll never mistake me for Kylie, ha-ha. My Dad's Polish babuska mother, perhaps, but never Kylie.

I miss having someone to talk to, to eat dinner with, watch a comedy or movie with, play a game, go shopping or driving (not that I have a car any longer, but mum and I did enjoy a country drive, now and again, way back when).

Ah well. No use crying over split milk, as they say.

I read where Sly Stallone is making a new Rambo film or something. I had this vision, of him, doing another Rocky--only instead of with boxing gloves, they're sparring with walkers. "Yo, Adrian! My catheter bag needs changin'!"

Hello all,

On my work break again. Hope all is well with my friends. I spent some pre-work time on the internet, checking out the Dr Who forums. Wow, fans have changed in the past 20 years or so!

One site's forums were overwashed with negative (as in downright rude and mean-sprited) comments about Catherine Tate. I'd never encountered that sort of negativity in Dr Who fandom, before, and can't say I like it. What's with these "fans" now? Is it the anonimity of the internet, that makes previously "normal" teens to adults so petty and shallow? These sad individuals, with their rude, snarky remarks, really drag fandom downhill, I think.

Personlly, I think Tate was simply brilliant as Donna, acting against Tennant's manic/comic/dark Doctor, beautifully, in a style vaugely reminicent of Hepburn. But, most of the rugs on the net probably wouldn't even know who Katherine Hepburn was, let alone appreciate the comparison. Too many of them probably wouldn't know good acting/writing, if it was shoved into their faces with a big sign that says, "GOOD WRITING/ACTING."

A lot of them can't seem to seperate Tate's Who character, from her Lauren character, which is a shame. I only knew Davidson from All Creatures, yet within the first few times I saw him as the Doctor, I easily forgot that he was also Tristin Farnon, and simply enjoyed seeing him in his new role. Pity that some people today, can't be bothered to make that leap, any longer. Some people still compare Tennant to Cazenova.

Also, on another website, several fangirls were lamenting that, despite Tennant's tight suit (his costume), that they couldn't see his...erm--endowments.

Okay, another conversation that wouldn't ever have been had with the old "classic" series. I do love that there's new fans, I think that's terrific. But, some of these newbies seem to ignore that fact this is still, very much a kid's series.

Yes, it appeals to a much broader audience than it ever did before--and that's wonderful. But, even in this day and age, I think it's a wee bit tacky to show junior Uncle David's lunchbox, don't you?

I mean, sorry, but not every Who fan wants to see the Doctor's meat and two veg.
Unlike the fangirls, I watch Who for the acting, the writing, and the wonderful sets, etc., not the crotch shots.

So, how many New Yorkers does it take to screw in a lightbulb? One million and three. One person says it needs changing--in writing, in triplicate, one person uses two tanks of gas (petrol), running around to the shops to find a light bulb that's on sale--and who winds up spending ten times as much as if he or she went to the store 'round the corner, and the other million to scream, bitch and moan about how much it costs for the electricity and the gas, and the lightbulb--oh, and how much it costs to have, about a year later, some poor, underpaid schmuck screw the dang thing in.

I have a definate love/hate relationship with New York state. I'm immensly proud of my NY heritage (on my late mum's side), which goes back over 300 years. At the same time, I hate most New Yorkers--they have no repect for their state, their neighbourhoods or each other, for the most part, and have no grasp of basic manners. They are often impatient, thoughtless, rude and grasping--and sometimes downright mean-spirted. I speak from 47 years of experience.

Now, that's not to say there's no nice New Yorkers--gosh, there are. And they can be awfully nice. However, these pockets of "niceness" are getting fewer and further inbetween.

I am not so naive as to think things may be better elsewhere, but truly, if I had the wherewithal, I would get the hell out of this burg and move to the UK permanatly. (sorry, can't spell tonight)

My late mum, June, spent some 30 years researching the family tree. The oldest family grave in Albany Rural Cemetary, near my childhood home, dates to the late 1700's. I think that was Stephen Featherly, but can't remember. I remember, mum made great progress, strugging through the complexities of an American pedigree. She had hit a few bumps and snags and dead-ends, but accumulated reams of hand-written notes (many of which I still have, but am not brave enough--nor well enough, at the mo'--to shift through). I haven't the funds to hire a professional genealogist, so in their boxes those notes shall stay, until I reach the day when I shall be less daunted.

There was one ancestor that sorely vexed my mum. This person is buried on a early 20th century plot in Albany rural, with my great-granddad and such.

Mum tried and tried, but could never find the connection to the person buried there and her family. She always referred to her as "that MacLeod woman"--apparently our one and only Scottish ancestor (maybe).

Ah well. Since I am virtually the last direct descendant, I strongly suspect that when I die, sis (who's adopted and has no special feelings in regard to familial relationships) will merely dump everything she doesn't want herself, in the roll off dumpster in the rear car park of my building, or wherever. I suppose it doesn't matter. I'd throw it out myself, to be quite honest, but I simply haven't the heart to. I was the one who drove mum to all the places she did her research at, and help and encouraged her to resume her hobby, during her long battle with kidney failure. To dump those papers in the rubbish bin, seems almost like sacriledge to me--yet, I doubt that I will ever have the funds or, quite frankly, be well enough, to do anything with it, on my own. And, it is taking up space.

Well, sentimentality is what keeps us collecting things and visiting museums and saving photos of relatives we never knew.

Didn't sleep a wink last night. Managed 4 hours late this morning, so I'm dead tired now. So, what? Some days you're the bug, and some days you're the windscreen. Such is life.

"Erm---Martha, that's not my sonic screwdriver in my trouser pocket...."

Hi all,

Just a quick note.

Lovely, lovely day today. For the first time in 3 months, it got above 45 degrees, farenheight. What with the heavy rain yesterday and last night, and the mild temps today, much of the ice is gone--not all, still had some slips today. I hate ice, bleh!

Of course, it will take more that a bit of rain and one day of spring-like temps, to get rid of all the snow--think it might be another month, before we see our lawns again.

Anyway, found I'd run out of cat food, and took a bus to the store--naturally, I didn't feel I needed my new pair of wellies to go shopping. Ha! Standing at the bus stop, every other car hit this big, cold, dirty puddle and my legs got a rather muddy bath, at times--when I wasn't being peppered with roadspray from passing cars. Ah well...that'll teach me.

Have to go for eye tests. Seems over the weekend, I abruptly lost part of the vision (well, already an inzey bit blind in the corner of my right eye), in my eye--there's some mysterious swelling there. They don't know if it's infection or my retinitis, acting up. No big deal, I'm coping with it, just like everything else. panic serves nothing, but to add to my stress--and, I've known for about 7 years now, that I was going blind in that eye, eventually, anyway. My great-gran was blind in both eyes, as well as my aunt Mary, when she got older, and they both managed okay.

I read where there's been a lot of UFO sightings in the UK. I even incorporated it into my latest Dr Who story--both stories will likely be deleted from my files, when done--golly, they are such rubbish! Dull.

Hear the latest sighting is of a pink ball of light, floating over London.

Too bad it wasn't two pink balls--then they'd have positive evidence of the world's first gay UFO.

Just had my head bit off for taking too many breaks--even though I can't help it, it's my illness...I have a note from the Doctor. Oh well, sod it.

The only thing telemarketing has going for it, is that I don't have to clean toilets and I get to sit down and work, for a change.

"Okay, ladies and Gent's: Who wants to make a bid on this badly dressed skinny actor guy from Scotland? He can fly and Tardis, kissed Kylie, and has a ten-inch...erm..screwdriver, and, a Skoda!"

Hello all,

on break at work with a slow server, so this has gotta' be quick.

Had plans yesterday to run some important errands, but they got shot down when I developed a bad back, around noon-time. Did get downtown (to what Glens Falls laughably calls its high street) briefly, late afternoon, with the snow blowing all 'round me. Thought I'd treat myself to a coffee out, for a change--I get coffee at the office, and it's not bad, but really, there's not much chance to linger and enjoy it, as I'm busy ringing up a bunch of childish, snarky rude people every two minutes for four or five hours.

Anyway, there's this new posh coffee house at the triangle near the roundabout, downtown, and I'd thought I'd mosey in for a nice cup and a sit, while watching the cars and trucks and buses making dizzying circles outside the windows. Yeah. Well, that idea lasted about all of the time it took me to look at the prices. Blimey! I'd have to take out a blinking mortgage, to afford just a small cup, there! Yikes!

So, I went to Burger Woof (Burger King) and had a small Coke, instead, and looked at the fancy new electronic sign for the Civic Center, at the Bingo annoucements, Hockey tickets, concert, etc.

Money's tight for the next couple of weeks. Can manage cat food, but back to macaroni and cheese, bacon sandwiches and tinned soup, beans and such, for a while. I guess I can live with it. I got the notice that I get my cheque as of March 3rd--I'll be getting 2 cheques, really, so I can pay Feb and March rent all at once--at least, that's the plan. With the US government, one never knows...especially with idiot-boy Bush in charge of things.

Well, back to work. Have a good weekend all. Cheers. Nancy G.

Well, this has been a dull day. I'm at work, getting snarked at again tonight. Just had a priest tell me he doesn't do phone donations, because he doesn't think it's safe--in other words, he doesn't trust me. Oh, boo-hoo. Now you know why I became a Presbyterian, 25 years ago. Sheesh.

Did my shopping early this week. Exhausted. I had to spend 20 minutes chopping the ice (that the lazy men who are SUPPOSED to care for our pavement at the apartment building haven't done), so I could actually walk to the kerb without slipping and breaking my neck.

I slipped anyway, dang it. Hurt my bad foot slightly.

I also, while at the food store, went next door to Tractor Supply Company (the local farm/pet store), and splurged 10 dollars (I can ill afford) on a pair of men's wellies. I got just a tad tired of sitting all night at work, with a sopping wet right sock. The waterproof tape didn't work on my winter boots, so this was the cheapest alternative. They're not comfy, but by gosh, my foot is dry.

I've been watching Doctor Who videos every day. Now I know the Voyage of the Damned script by heart, ha-ha, and can watch it with the sound off, at 3am, when I can't sleep (which is rather often, lately), and I don't have to worry about disturbing the neighbours. Am I a Whovian geek, or what? (And proud of it!)

I am now writing 2 Dr Who stories at once, and losing to the computer at cribbage, as a way of passing the time--oh, and reading an Ellis Peters mystery.

Just got asked if I was doing anything for Valentine's Day. Yeah--getting phone's slammed in my ear, feeding the cats, and having breaded beef nuggets and fried potatoes for dinner, watching Dr Who, and going to bed.

I've never actually dated on the day--it was mum's birthday, so we usually were busy with that. No one's ever given me chocolates or flowers or anything like that. Had a date pay for a movie or dinner, once or twice, that's about it. Well, having not even dated in 11 years, Valentine's Day is a non-issue.

I did see a woman in the till line, with three heart-shaped balloons and a pair of red flannel men's pants with little white hearts on them. Nothing says I love you, ladies, like a pair of roomy flannel underpants.

Have a good night all---miss you!!!

"Oh, go exterminate yer motha', I'm off for a dirty weekend with Rose..."

Someone nicked DT's autograph from my workspace, but returned it. Wow, getting tired of these pranks, but what can you do? Got too many other stuff to deal with.

Okay, well, got my results from hospital yesterday. I'm in Stage 1 of kidney failure, headed for Stage 2. There's 5 stages, so it's not serious, yet. There's no cure, and not to seem too melodramatic, I will die from this. But...not for a while. Not even getting treated, at the mo', yet.

I have to go, work's over for the night. YOu can read my other blog on the Sun Online (Nancy G's blog), if you want more info.

Take care all--I'm okay with it, just tired, very, very tired--and bored...god, I miss the internet at home! Still got my Dr Who DVD's, thankfully, and some books to read, so it's not a total loss.

Work was brutal tonight--telemarketing stinks when you are sick and/or depressed. People were soooo-mean, and nasty and just downright rude. This is why we have so many gun nuttter, shooting up the place. Americans (especially those in NY state) can't even handle someone getting a wrong number, without going balistic on you. I dearly would love to move to Europe, but I suppose you have your nasty little morons there, as well, ey?

Hello all,

Sneaking into blog.uk., post-work, this evening.
Someone nicked my David Tennant autographed post card from my cubicle wall, here at work. Drat! Oh well. I'm not an autograph type of person, and merely a fan (not a fan-girl) but, it was a nice thing to have, and I'm slightly put out about it. Some of the new hires are not all that, if you know what I mean. It's getting hard for them to find people, 'cos of all the pay cuts, and work slow-downs and such. Maybe it will turn up. Two weeks ago, my mousepad went missing, and turned up last week, back on my desk. A month ago, my Raymond Chandler book went missing for a few days, and again, wound up back on my desk a few days later. Gremlins???? Or one very strange co-worker?

Speaking of co-workers, one told me she's going down to Disney in Florida, for a week soon, on vacation. Wow. Nice. I've not had a holiday since January of '04--though it was one helluva holiday--you can take that meaning both ways, incidentally. It was the best/worst time I've ever had. I suppose, as the last holiday I'll ever go on, the college study trip in Egypt was a big blow-out. It's also why my wages are being garnished, as I couldn't repay my student loan in a timely enough fashion to suit them. I won't go into th he trip, just say that it was both the trip of a life time, and a living nightmare...a regular ying-yang thing. I went inside a newly opened tomb near the pyramids (workers tombs), saw all the major sites, from Alexandria to Cairo, to Luxor. I danced with a belly dancer, sailed on the Nile in a Feluca, and also rode a pure white Arab mare in the dunes above the Spynx under the moonlight--and got deathly ill (lost 20 lbs in 2 weeks), had both parents hospitalized while I was there, had the roomate from Hell, got publically yelled at for something I simply didn't do, and had my dad die, two days after I got home. Yeah--wonderful trip but also horrible at the same time.

Now, I go nowhere, do nothing. I'll probably--literally--never go on holiday again. So, as holidays go, I've been blessed. I've had two or three that were really delicious, and gave me a lifetime of memories, so...okay, I'll probalby never go anywhere, ever again, but still..I cannot complain. Better to go on a trip of a lifetime, once ever ten or twenty years, then a boring holiday once a year. At least, that's what I tell myself. In my job, I get 7 days off a year--national holidays, like Easter and Christmas and Labor Day. Sure, it means I have to make up the day off, by working extra hours, as I don't get paid holidays--but still, better than nothing, ey?

Again, speaking of co-workers, we were talking about our attire tonight. I'm all in brown--brown hoodie and dark brown courdoroy trousers. I was told I looked like a poo. Oh, love the office joker.

I went to a booksale at the library, Saturday before work. Got about 5 dollars worth of used books: Three Mustketeers, several paperback mystery's and an old Samuel French playbook, from the 1930's, a ghost story in three acts. Interesting little play. Rather could see myself playing the character of Mrs. Wragg, the large, chav cook, ha-ha. Yup, that's me in a nutshell. Mind you, I really do suck at acting--but, I suck with style! Okay, well, maybe not so much style, as throwing myself into being absolutely awful, with wild abandon. :p

I've not had anything to do with theater, in five years, unfortunately. I do miss it, sometimes. But, maybe not being involved in theater, isn't such a bad thing, all things considered, ha-ha.

We had a heck of a windstorm, yesterday. A snow squall blew through, late afternoon--like a tornado of snow--couldn't see your hand in front of your face, what we call a "white-out." White outs are scary when one is driving. I got caught in one, once, driving mum down the mountain road, on the way to the dialysis center here in the city, once. Wow, I was definitely scared. Couldn't see--period. It was just...white. Blowing snow to the front and rear, and me on a road used frequently by logging trucks. That was not good. I had to inch forward, hooting my car horn and flashing my lights, until I was well out of it. I was in a bit of a sweat, over that.

Yesterday, the wind was blowing such a gale, it was driving the snow through the cracks in the the window frame, and it knocked a model horse I had, on the sill, off and broke its leg, poor thing. pity that. I had that horse for years, my only full-size Peter Stone model, that a friend had gifted to me. Today/tonight, it's just so bitterly cold--in the single digits (farenheight), with sub-zero's on the way.

The ice is a bother, as well, We had mild temps, and melting/rain, and now it's all frozen. The side road next to my building? You could actually skate on it, the ice is so thick. I hate ice, except in my cold drinks. My first time on ice, mum took me out to the little spring-fed lake in our village--in fact, that's what it was called, "Little's Lake," named after a man named Little. It was really more like a large pond, actually. Anyway, when I was about 7, mum took me out one winter. Sis and dad were good skaters. I had these little white skates, with double blades. What did I do, me with the dyspraxia? Yup, fell hard on my bum...and sis made fun of me, and dad made fun of me...and I've hated ice, ever since. Still an elephant on roller skates, especially with my bad right foot, now. I dread falling...always afraid the next time, will be the time I wind up in a wheelchair--and God, I'm sick of hospital. Being alone is bad enough. Being alone in hospital is horrid, take it from me. The result is, I have to pay someone 20 dollars, to take out my rubbish, because between all that ice/my limp, and my slightly wonky heart, it's just not a good idea, to do it myself now...tried it today, and it really took the stuffing out of me. (I have to drag the stuff down two flights of stairs, around the front/side of the building and into the back of the rear car park.)

So, my virus is gone, but my anemia is bad...can't win for losing. Haven't got my government cheque yet, and living on between 90 and 150 dollars a week, at the mo'. Ah well, one thing poverty is, it's a challenge.

I'm awfully bored. Not much to do, but at least the house is slowly getting cleaned. Very slowly, I'm afraid. At least I have some new (used) books to read, and my very dull Dr Who story, I'm writing. I sent my last story to a friend, but I don't think she liked it (just too polite to say). Well, I'm used to folks not liking my plays or fiction or poetry. Essays and feature articles and blogs, yes, I can write those. But I totally suck at fiction and plays and poetry. Dang it all. They're the fun stuff. Figures I suck at the fun stuff. But, I love writing Dr Who fiction, and even if no one ever reads it, it's something to keep me occupied, which I so desperately need. I'm tired of trying to explain to the locals (neighbours, social workers, doctor's etc) that I have no one here. No one. Why doesn't anyone get that???? It really is getting tedious, having to hear, "you MUST have someone, surely!" No. I don't. Deal with it. God knows I do.

I have my long-distance friends, and I am content with that. Tho', it's hard not having the internet at home, so I can "talk" to them sometimes.

Anyway, this is my life at the moment. Rather boring, isn't it? That's me. Nancy Dullsville.

Hi everyone, just a quick note.

'Fraid I'm under the weather again--caugt the stomach bug that's been making the rounds at the office. Just got rid of the C-diff that I brought home from hospital...man, life sucks, ey? And, my anemia is acting up a bit, as well. But, otherwise okay, at least I'm not in hospital again. There's that, at least.

Miserable walking, at the moment, as the walks are covered with thick ice, and on top of that, an inch or two of snow. Blew out my knee a bit, slipping on the pavement, and now it won't bend, sometimes. But, I'm quite used to that, after 25 years, so outside of occaisionally saying a very unladylike four letter word when it happens (yes, having one's knee cap jam up when you're moving it, hurts quite a lot, actually), I just deal with it, no matter. I still curse the horse that bucked me off and caused the fracture to my knee, back in the winter of '80, tho'. It was a palomino named Burt (he was a big fat, lazy gelding, that I nicknamed "burb")--I always used have problems with horses with stupid names, not sure why. I hate horses named "Burt."

Anyway, got my National Grid bill--have decided that even if I'm dying, I'm NEVER going to hospital, ever, ever, ever again. Not only am I stuck with a 1000 dollar (500 pounds) hospital bill, now, because I was sick and had to pay the bill 3 days late, National Grid just slapped me with a huge late fee--50 stinking dollars!

My new disability cheque hasn't begun yet, and my net worth at the moment is roughly 20 dollars (ten pounds)...pray for me. Until those cheques begin, I can't pay my rent or electric/gas bill, or anything, because of my reduced work hours. This week, because of being sick again, I'll only have work