I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

Well, the plan for Monday was to get on the phone and contact my county social worker and tell her that I am unemployed, so maybe I can get a food stamp increase and medicaid, to help in the tough times ahead. Then, try to contact Social Security (LOL), so maybe I can get an SSI check, now that I've been forced into unemployment by my injury.

However, my body had other plans, today.

While my back is marginally better--well, I can sit for more than an hour, now, if I have to, without grinding my teeth together, and..I'm down to just one or two pain killers a day--half doses, I've only taken a full dose when I can't handle the pain any more, which thankfully has only been three times in the past week or so...the full dose basically makes me unconscious for hours, the half-dose just makes me a wee sleepy and ever so slightly loopy.

No, the stomach troubles have left me in a bit of a state today, having returned, and I'm a bit down today, physically.

Unfortunately I'm all out of nausea pills, and can't afford more for a while...well, unless something changes, I may never be able to afford them again.

The reason for that is, that our wonderful American federal government spent all it's cash bailing out banks, and so had to make cuts--and of course, it's easier to pray on the weak than it is to hurt those able to fight back. So, America's big brave political machine made cuts medical assistance to the poor and elderlfy and disabled, so now I either cannot get the medicines I need, or have to pay for them myself, full price. That's why I couldn't get the muscle relaxers the doctor prescriped--$59 for 10 pills was just a bit too steep for my poverty level budget. And, I had to pay full price for the nausea pills, also not covered by Medicare--I swear, that slob George W. Bush may be gone, but his legacy of hurting America's most vulnerable people, lives on in Obama's reign.

Obama is all talk and no walk, just as I expected. And the republican *Nazi scumbags are so caught up in their cowardly anti-liberal political attacks *(in point of fact, Hitler was nortoriously anti-liberal), that America's conservatives gladly would rather see tens of thousands of their fellow Americans continue to suffer and die needlessly, than have Obama get his way.

Nothing in this life or the next, disgusts and revolts me more, I'm afraid, than those conservative Americans willingly condemning millions of other Americans to suffer, for the stupidest and most ridiculous and most shallow reasons on the planet.

Anyway, I hate not working, but there's just no way I can.

So, the new agenda is go get on the phone tomorrow and try to contact everybody, and get the ball rolling. I'll be, in the near future working on moving out of this dump, to central upstate New York.

When--if, the move to a new county takes affect, I will, I'm told, be moving to a pro-poverty county. Warren County, New York, here in the southern Adirondack mountain region, has a state-wide reputation, I've been told, of being the worst county in the entire of New York state, for those New Yorkers living in poverty. And, my experience is, it's entirely true. Warren County--the city of Glens Falls, in particular, has begun a systematic campagin to push the poor out of the county. Rather than try to fix the problem that causes poverty, rather than taking the high road by thinking and helping--as opposed to ignoring and/or making things worse--the unimaginative, dull-witted and lazy will always choose to go the route of the lowest common denominator. That's what the people are, who run Warren County--the lowest common denominator. Rednecks with money and power. Oh god.

There are 62 counties in New York state---when it comes to helping the poor, disabled and elderly, Warren County, NY ranks at the bottom.

So, as much as I adore the Adirondacks, moving the hell out of the armpit of the northern Hudson Valley, might just be the best move I ever made--or a disaster, only time will tell, I suppose.

I just got an invite to attend my hometown's 8th grade class reunion, on 10th October. My village had one school, kindergarten to 8th year, which I attended from 1964 to 1975. I was bused out to a high school 45 minutes away, in rural Albany County, cos' I didn't want to go to a high school in the city.

The class of '75 reunion will be held in the village park--which is just on the other side of the hill/motorway, from the street where I grew up on. I spent a lot of time in that park, attending volunteer fireman's picnics, school field days--which was an annual athletic contest and a picnic for the village children, played softball on the baseball diamond, went to family get-togethers, and the Presbyterian church's annual Strawberry Festival. There's a covered pavilion with a BBQ pit, the usual playground stuff for the kiddies, a horseshoe pitch, basketball and tennis courts and the ball field. Not much of a park, as parks go, but it wasn't bad. My older sister spent a lot of time in the park as well--mostly getting drunk or stoned with her mates, after sneaking out of her bedroom window in the middle of the night.

I woke early today, with a re-hash of the stomach flu, or whatever is ailing me. Cramps and all the other unpleasntries that go along with it.

Well, my friend--who lives over 100 miles away, once again ordered me food via long distance...this time some Chinese takeaway, including a quart of some of Main Moon's most excellent chicken broth. Wow, did that go down a treat!

It's horrid, having hunger pains and stomach pains at the same time. The broth is the one thing my stomach seems to tolerate, it's like nectar of the gods, as far as I'm concerned.

I feel like the luckiest person on earth, today, despite all my troubles.

The collection agency for the United States Department of Education, just posted me six identical bills.

For $32,109.40

My current net worth: $1.87 (not counting my clothing and the assorted mainly very used and mostly beat contents of the three very small rooms of my flat).

Yeah, good luck collecting that, sonny-jim.

The US is facing it's worst recession since the Great Depression, and they are throwing money at bankers and big corporations and the wealthy, while sticking their collective woo-hoo's up the arses of the poor.

And, wasting six postage stamps to do it.

Stupid arseholes.

One of my friends actually ordered me a pizza--long distance. Sometimes I forget how blessed I am to have such wonderful friends. I was worried about having to make something to eat, now my tummy is happy, I'm feeling better emotionally, and my craving for the last several days is satisfied, ha-ha. And, oh, it's so wonderful not being hungry, any longer.

It's a perfect 10 of a day out there. Nice breeze, sunny, not at all hot. I'm stuck inside of course. Great day for having a yard sale--except that it would pain me a great deal to part with those things I have--even if I probably do have a lot of junk that could be gotten rid of, and of course, I have no way of getting it downstairs, nor anything to make a "yard sale" sign out of...so, it's all a moot point, I guess.

god, I could use the money, though.

my back is being horredous today, and I forsee yet another day of hunger and bed rest. I hate this, and I hate me. I hate who I am. I am nothing. It feels like I've dropped a stone into a well, and am waiting to hear the splash, but...nothing happens. For over a week, I've longed to hear the words, "how are you feeling?" But--they have never come. Silly, I know, but sometimes desperate people latch on to stupid little things, that may not seem like a hill of beans to some folks, but to others, they can mean the world.

Two days ago I had this overwhelming craving for a pizza.

Suddenly tonight, I've got an equally overwhelming craving for a chocolate brownie and an ice cold glass of milk. Well...got the milk, but will have to satisfy myself with yet more saltine crackers. Bleh.

After coming home from the office late this afternoon--had to go and clear out my desk, I went off to bed for a while. No napping, just giving my back a chance to relax...I took the last of my anti-inflamitory (Motrin), and an Oxyconton pain pill, and after several hours realized that once again, I was famished.

All I've eaten all day is a half a packet of saltine crackers. I decided to bite the bullet and try and rustle myself up some grub, despite the pain.

The easiest thing for me to make myself, I decided, was some boxed macaroni and cheese. I had a couple of boxes on hand, that I keep for emergencies, and I reckon not eating a proper meal for two days is more or less qualified in the emergency category.

So, I put the macaroni on to boil. Lay down, got up to get out the butter and milk, lay down, etc. Eventually, I made myself my first hot meal in two days, that way.

It tastes like cardboard and not very cheesey at all--despite the claim on the box, that it's "The Cheesiest!" Still, it's hot and it's food, and more importantly, it's the most food, and the only hot food, that I've had in a couple of days, so...who cares if it's relatively tasteless?

I just got a demand notice from my internet provider. I can't pay them what I owe, so my service will be terminated soon.

Outside of blogging and reading online papers and listening to music, I really don't use the internet much, any longer. I stopped writing--for only the second or third time in my lifetime, I've lost interest in writing. It's exceedingly rare for me not to feel like writing, I almost always feel like writing something--be it a short story, play, poem, essay, or journal entry. Usually a writing break off, is mostly due to issues going on in my personal life that can't be ignored, but for once, I've lost interest in all my, well...interests, for no apparent reason at all.

Suddenly, I don't really care about writing, or collecting model horses, the arts, history, listening to music, or even watching Dr Who...the latter of course is something which I thought would never happen, but it has.

I owe a bit over $100 and my current net worth is--just counted it, $1.87 Yeah, Time-Warner, good luck collecting from me. Used to be they'd wait three months before sending a shut-off notice, but I guess times are tough all over, these days.

So, I reckon I got about a week or so, before my internet goes dead. Any more "good news" and I think I may be ready to jump off a flippin' bridge. Jeez, can't win for losing, me.

If my back were in any shape for it, and the weather was decent (overcast and rain today), I'd have an impromptu yard sale (basically a boot sale on one's lawn), and raise some funds.

I have few possessions, and most aren't worth a hell of a lot, but I probably could scrounge up some things to sell. I have a lot of bric a brac....I only kept those things which really meant something to me, so selling stuff would be hard, but it's a thought, anyway.

One thing for sure, moving is out of the question, now. At least, not until I'm well again, and can find some kind of job.

I have stuff I could sell--trouble is, it's irreplaceable. Some of it I have for sentimental reasons, and some I have just because I really do like it, and some cos' I honestly need it, but it's a thought....there's still at least another month or month and a half of nice weekends, before the cold and snow starts looming into the picture.

I am beyond disgusted and sickened by Americans rejection of health care for the poor, elderly and disabled.

I am sicked again, by what I read in some UK online paper, this morning.

A man committed suicide by jumping from a bridge, which caused massive tailbacks. What sickened me, were some of the comments I read, from so-called "human beings." These mindless heartless, souless prigs, were actually angry with the man for killing himself, 'cos he disrupted their holiday weekend.

Jesus! A man died--he died because he was suffering some horrible emotional pain, every bit as intense as any physical trama--and felt that the only way to end his suffering, was to die.

And all these pigs worry about was having to sit in a tailback. A human being's entire life was snuffed out in seconds, and all these maggots whinge about was losing a few hours out of their lives.

Hello? Is there any human being left in the world today? Does human life mean anything to anyone, any more? Or have we devolved into two-legged robots, with no more feelings than than the cars we drive?

I haven't been able to stand in one spot long enough to feed myself--I can walk, I can sit for a bit, but I absolutely cannot stand upright for more than a minute or two, without suffering horrendous pain. Which makes preparing any sort of a meal, completely out of the question....so I've literally been going hungry, 'cos I can't even stand long enough to make myself a sandwich.

Yesterday, I bought a cheap box of saltine crackers, and a brick of extra sharp cheddar cheese that was on sale for $1.29. I figured that cheese and crackers I can have while lying down in bed, so at least I wouldn't go raving mad from the hunger any more. (and yes, going hungry can drive you practically raving mad).

Well, I found out why the cheese was so cheap. I opened the package and the damn thing is half covered with some nasty green mold. Yuck! Considering how iffy my stomach still is after nearly a week with the stomach flu, that wasn't a sight I wanted to see.

Damn it, I'm hugry as hell, and was looking forward to a breakfast of cheese and crackers--now I'm just stuck with the crackers. And no, not going to eat aroudn the mold, my stomach is still iffy and just looking at the mold isn't very agreeable, truth to tell.

My life really does suck, doesn't it?

That teenage headcase from Minnesota is now impersonating me on bcuk. What a useless, pointless, repetitious and dull child.

Thank god he's not my little pimple infested rugrat!

God, America does breed a lot more than its fair share of freaks....this country's gene pool needs some serious weeding out.

When I was a teenager, I had a hobby, I read books, I helped my mum at work, I had a job (obviously this kid's too lazy and/or half-witted to hold down an actual job), I went hiking or snowshoeing on weekends, horseback riding--I did stuff with my life, and enjoyed it. Some of these American kids today, are pointless little do-nothings. That's why they go online and bother grown-ups with their stupid crap. They have no immagination or ambition to actually go out and experience life, to embrace the world at large--it's a big universe, but they just want to stare at a computer screen all day, letting their brains and bodies go to rot. Dull as dishwater, the lot of them.

You can see the world from your computer, but you can't LIVE it---and, damn it, it's living that counts. Without living your life and experiencing the life around you, you might as well be a robot.

So, today's my first day of unemployment. Well, I think they would have fired me for excessive absenses, if I hadn't quit. And I've only been fired once in 34 years and dozens of jobs in my working life, and that was yonks ago, so I'd rather keep my record clean, on that score.

I haven't been living as much as I used to, lately, and now even less so, I suppose. I may have to give up my internet service. That will hurt, but I can't see many alternatives. I can't live on $800 a month. After the $625 for rent, and $50 for internet service, that'll only leave me with $125 to live on for four weeks.

$25 roughly a week for spending money--that's gonna' suck.

It costs about $10 a week, just to feed the cats--and then there's the cost of the laundromat/laundry soap, dishwashing soap, bin bags, cat litter, soap and shampoo, cleaners, TP, and all the other "luxuries" human beings need each week to get by. It's gonna' be rough. I won't be able to go to the doctor's any more, not unless I can get NY state medicaid....and taking a cab will be a thing of the past. I'll now have to depend on walking or the bus...or when I am well again, my bike. Even taking the bus will be a luxury, come to think on it.

No more ice creams or pizza or any treats.

Life sucks and then...you die.

Well, I got a e-mail that I got a PM from some old Dr Who fan forum I haven't been on in a while. Read the PM, it was from one of Tardisgurl's gal-pals. Seems TG was talking about me on the forums. She sent me a e-mail tonight wishing me well, which was very sweet of her.

Thing is, I don't know what Tardisgurl wrote about me, but next thing I know, I get a notice from her friend on this little obscure fan forum, saying that she's going to "write David and tell him all about (me)." Erm--no, thank you.

I was polite and wrote this kid back thanking her, but asking her not to trouble herself (or poor Mr. Tennant).

Cripes! It really was a nice thought, but what's he going to do about it, and why should he give a rat's fart?

At best, I might get an autographed post card out of it--which I don't want or need, as I already have one, and have no use for two. Realistically, he'd probably never even read it, and even if he did, what the hell would he care?

Seriously, the bloke is just a wonderful actor--but, in the end, he's just some skinny bloke from Scotland, not a superhero, not a saint or an angel or a magical faerie, for pity's sake!

It's like these people who think of God as a sort of cosmic fruit machine, I guess: say a powerful enough prayer, do a lot of kneeling, throw some holy water in the right direction or whatever, and presto-chango, you get your wish.

Maybe these fan-girl's really do think Tennant's some kind of superhero or a saint, I reckon.

But, I have to laugh, thinking Tennant would give a damn about someone like me.

Let's face it, how many pics out there are there, of Tennant posing with some fat, ugly woman? Exactly: none. Several of him posing with fat, ugly men though--don't know what that says about him.

Seriously, the man be be nice, he may be a fantastic actor who's truly a credit to his profession, he is also a popular A-list celebrity that hobnobs with the rich and famous, but...in the end, he's just your average bloke.

He's not a saint and he's not from Galifrey, he's from (I think) Glasgow or thereabouts. Yet, as far as I'm concerned, his world and mine are so far apart from each other--even if he was say, a teacher or a shoe salesman, Tennant's world and mine are so far apart, that he might as well really be from Galifrey or the moon or mars, or Aberdeen.

It's sort of ridiculous to me, to trouble some intangible, untouchable celebrity living on a different continent 3000 miles away, with my problems. Hell, I can't even get my one and only sister to return my phone calls!

But, it's the thought that counts, I suppose. But jeez, that was sort of a bizzare PM, I have to tell you.

No, I'm entirely on my own in this, and tho' it hurts knowing this and I'm quite despondent sometimes, I'll live. really, I promise I won't kill myself, cross my heart. I may feel like it some days, but I won't. I made that promise to a friend a couple of years back, and it was a sacred promise, that I would have to be seriously hard-pressed, to break. I still have my three cats, bless them, and they have been by my side through all of this--especially my ginger cat Boots, who's been an absolute angel, cuddling me and nuzzing my hair, and never once leaving my side until I was able to get up and about a bit better.

The doctor told me I have to stay in bed as much as possible, and I can't go back to work...which means of course, that I have to quit my effing job. Which means of course, that now I will have $1000+ in bills and living expenses each month. and only $800 income coming in.

life just told me to bend over so it can screw me but good.

I can pay the rent and the internet bill, but I can kiss off paying the gas and electric bill, forever. I can't pull $213 a month magically out of thin air!

I tried to call a supervisor at work, but my chav asshole company that I work for, hasn't fixed the phones so one can actually reach a supervisor. If you get anything, it's general voice mail, cos' the lazy bitch that's supervisoring tonight, spends all her time texting her kids, and bitching like a fishwife at certain of the reps (while ignoring others), rather than getting off of her well-fed American arse and stinking doing her job and answering the bloody phone!

I left them a snarky voice mail. Since I have to quit, I might as well let them know what I think of their stinking unprofessional third-rate gypsy chav company.

Oh, and I could only afford enough cat food for four days--after that, the cats are shit outta' luck. I'll have to start feeding them only one tin a day, instead of two--god, they're gonna' drive me bonkers, now. "Feed me, feed me, feed me" Especaially Flame--she lives for her stomach. Even when she's not that hungry, she thinks she is.

I'm having a rough day. I need help and there's no one on the entire planet I can turn to. That so sucks you have no idea. I'm broke and I can't even afford to go to hospital, 'cos I can't spare the funds for cab fare.

I have spent the whole day in bed, only able to eat a bit of cold cereal out of the box, and some milk from the jug. My stomach is upset again, I can't stand, I can walk, but sitting uncomfortable and standing in one spot for more than a minute is sheer hell. I'm stinking hungry and I can't fucking feed myself. I can't call anyone and if I die, it won't matter, 'cos no one will even stinking notice until my rotted corpse starts to stink up the place.

I hate myself so much. I want out. I want out of the hell my life is. But...I can't get out. So I have to bite the bullet and stinking get dressed and go to work tonight and suffer, cos I'm fucking poor and that' what stinking poor people do where I live, just suffer and no one gives a shit whether you live or die.

I hate me. I hate my life. If there was a God, I'd pray for him just to end this already. I don't want to be here anymore. I can't even stinking feed myself. What the fuck good am I?

While I am happy to report that my back feels somewhat better, I have to say that I woke this morning not feeling well. I still have the tremors and feel very weak and light-headed, and my stomach's a bit quesy again.

It's so frustrating. I'm literally starving and I can't feed myself! I can't stand up long enough to even make myself some toast this morning, without feeling like I'm going to collapse on the floor. I'm so fucking hungry, and I am powerless to do anything about it. I have no funds for ordering delivery, I don't have enough funds to buy myself some TV dinners, I am just screwed.

I got stuck eating BBQ buffalo wings and french fries that I managed to haul out of the freezer and into the cooker, last night--which while it satisfied my hunger, didn't help my iffy stomach.

Even opening food is a challenge. I'm so weak, it took me 10 minutes to open the wings bag!

I am truly in hell, and there's no end in sight. I wish something nice would happen, but nothing is going to happen. I have to try and go out today, I have 10 dollars, and need cat food and litter and bin bags. I have to work tonight, and I'm dreading it. I really do wish I died, sometimes, cos' sometimes, just sometimes, living really is worse than dying.

Someone on my Roasting David blog, I'd noticed, that doesn't live in the UK and is a female, I may add, has joined my blog group as....david tennant. Oh, not in his actual name, but this person gives the actor's age, sex (male) and location as their bcuk identity.

Okaay then. That's just....scary. Mind you, it's not the first time someone in my roasting DT blog group has done this, but still...I find stuff like that well weird, if you ask me.

Not a blessed thing in today's papers as to why half the city's police cars went screaming north yesterday.

But, the local police blotter in the newspaper had this to say...

nine people were arrested by officers from the New York State Park Police and Saratoga County sheriff's deputies, while at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center last night. The arrests all took place during the Bruce Springsteen/E-Street Band concert. All were arrested on either drugs possession or public drinking charges (drugs and alcohol are prohibited on the grounds of the center, which is located inside the boundries of the Spa State Park.) Darn, those police just ruin all the fun for the stoners and alkies, don't they?

In other news, a woman from across the state line, in Poultney, Vermont, drove her silver Merc into rural Washington County, New York and went on a drink driving spree. First, she drove her Mercedes into a parked car--so hard it pushed it from the kerb up into the owner's driveway. Then, backing out from under the damaged car, the woman almost ran down a by-stander who'd come to investigate the noise, then, as if not satisfied with that, the woman in the Merc drove off down the road. She kept going a few miles, before once again coming into a wee bit of trouble keeping her motor on the road, crashing through someone's fence around their front lawn. Backing away from the fence, the woman poodled off down the road, yet again, where some friendly sheriff's deputies helped her out out of the ditch she drove into, and finally put a stop to her lovely summer drive in the country. The Poultney, VT woman is now sitting in Washingtion County jail, awaiting bail. Happy motoring!

Whoa! Three city police cars (and I think there's only five of them altogether, not counting the one dectective's car) just went screaming by, going north up Glen Street. Jeez, sounds serious--maybe a rare gunshot or a really bad accident. Anyway, guess I will read about it tomorrow...but in three years here, I've never seen what amounts to half the police cars in this city, hiding it up the road, lights and sirens blasting, one after the other, like that. Hmmm--now I'm curious.

This was sent to me, again, I'm bored so what the hell.

THREE WISHES FROM CHILDHOOD:

A horse/pony
To be on a TV show
To be smart and/or good at sports

THREE WISHES FOR RIGHT HERE AND NOW:

A Brooklyn pizzeria or an Irish Pub pizza, half-pepperoni, half-cheese (no really, I'd kill for one right now)
An ice-cold Coke (or Pepsi)
A heating pad that works (mine has decided it doesn't)

THREE WISHES FOR YOUR FUTURE:

A job I like
A place to live I like
To get the hell out of the USA, before it goes beyond the violence and hate loving, emotionally challenged, intellectually lazy and hypocritical sewer it is now, and breaks out into civil war.

I left work an hour early. I had the shakes so bad, I was like a wino or a doper with the DT's.

This last week has been a real eye-opener for me. My closest friends and relations have basically deserted me. I've had not so much as a single e-mail or call to see if I'm OK, while more casual friends and total strangers, have been exceedingly kind and considerate towards me.

What's that say about me, I wonder? Doesn't make me feel real good about myself, I guess. I never want anyone to dote on me, or put themselves out for me, but christ, just simple "how are you feeling," would have been effing nice.

It feels like poo, if you must know. Maybe I'm being childish and/or unreasonable, but to deny my hurt would be a lie.

Well, I've had a bite of yogurt for my lunch--I hurt too much, and am too weak, to stand and make a sandwich. Now, I'm going to pop a full dose of my pain meds and hit the sack for the rest of the day. The walk to and from work has just about left me wrung out. You could knock me over with a chicken's pin feather, I'm just that weak and knackered at this moment.

Hope you all are having a good Thursday. Cheers.

...well, sort of.

I go back to work today, and I'm dreading it--don't know which will be worse, the four block long walk to work, or sitting in a chair for 4 hours, then walking back home. But, I'm bored to tears at home, so it'll be nice having something to actually do with my day, at least.

I'll take half a dose of pain killer, and hopefully that'll help me get through the day. Didn't sleep well, very uncomfortable night. Chilly in here this morning, can't close the one window in my lounge, as the sash is too high for me to reach with my back the way it is. I'll just have to be cold, I reckon.

Mostly sunny clear morning. Feels more like early autumn than late summer, which is fine weather, I think.

Just came home from the doctor's. Been ok'd to go back to work on a "tentative" basis--meaning, for as long as I can tolerate it, and if it doesn't worsen my condition. They're going to look into getting me some therapy...not sure what my Medicare will cover--if it cost too much to go, I'll just have to do home exercises and take lots of over-the-counter Motrin or whatever, and learn to live with the pain.

The bright sides of all of this are, that, for the first time since spring of 2007 when I injured it, my lame foot hasn't hurt me in days, 'cos I've not been on it much, and I've lost loads of weight. I can sit for longer periods today--about 15 to 20 min. at a time. It's taken me half the day before, just to write one post, cos' until today, I couldn't sit in a chair for more than 3 to 5 minutes at a stretch, without surcumbing to the pain.

I'm light-headed and my right hip feels like it's had a knife repeatedly driven into it. But, I made it home. My next door neighbour kindly offered me a lift, so it only cost me $3.25 for the cab fare, thank god. Now I have about $16 left until the 3rd August.

Bad news: The clinic person suggested to me that I might want to rent a wheelchair and/or a walker for a few weeks to help me get about, since I don't own a car (and, darn, wouldn't you know, my limo driver is on holiday in Bermuda). Yeah. I'll just skip out to the money tree out on my balcony and pluck off a few hudred dollar bills.

Jeez, I can't even afford a proper cane, forget the walker or wheelchair. I've been using one of my hiking staffs as aubsitute for a cane.

Two more weeks left of summer. God, I had such plans, too. This was the best summer--until now--that I'd had in over 5 years. I was going swimming, horseback riding, playing crazy golf...and shopping. A clerk at one of the Lake George shops told me they'd be having a half-off sale on Labor Day weekend (first weekend of Sept, the last weekend of the tourist season, over here). The shop has some really lovely long skirts from India, that I've been admriing all summer--$18 each or 2 for $30, and they'd be $9 on Labor Day weekend...well within what would have been my budet. I only own one skirt, and they had some really lovely and feminine one's, there. Oh well.

I can't even afford to take the trolley to Lake George for my usual $2 soft ice cream cone (vanilla-chocolate twist)--not that I could comfortably ride the trolley for 30 minutes, anyway.

I did just get in a Coldwater Creek fashion catalog with a $25 off any order over $100 coupon attached. Well, it'll give me something to look at. I can sit up a bit and read now, which I couldn't do before. I'll give the catalog to someone at work when I'm done looking at it, maybe someone else can use the coupon.

I still can't cook for myself. Standing is sheer hell. Sitting isn't much fun, neither is walking, but for some reason standing...wow.

I dread it when I'll run out of Oxyconton and Motrin. Back to just Tylenol, that'll be rough. I don't want to get addicted to pain killers, and I don't like taking them, but for once I bless them, they're the only things making my day tolerable, at the moment.

If I were a posh American, trendy or whatever, I'd likely be in hospital getting flowers sent to my room, and a maton to feed me grapes, ha-ha. But, I am not human. I am poor and ugly and nothing more than a slab of meat, or a number, to my fellow citizens. Seriously, I got shown more compassion and genuine concern from total strangers in the Hannaford supermarket on Friday, than I did Wednesday morning in hospital, or Sunday at the clinic, or today at the clinic. That's all that keeps running through my head when I'm around the so-called medical "professionals," that I really am just a slab of meat, that I'm no longer considered a human being.

I couldn't put my bin of rubbish in the tall rubbish bins that we have here now at my flats, and the neighbours just left it lying there, when they went to take out the bin to the kerb. Lazy stinking American bastards. What would it kill them? They KNOW that I have a bad back...would it occur to them that maybe I couldn't raise the heavy bag into the bin? Well, screw it. I'm not picking up any messes. I didn't ask management to replace the skip out back with these huge oversize bins. It's not my fault I can't physically put the rubbish in them, nor is it my fault, I've got lazy chav neighbours, that wouldn't go out of their way to do anything---they've left stuff they've dropped in the hallways lay there for days, before picking it up.

I'm starving, but am not up to standing around the kitchen making a sandwich or even popping something into the cooker. I'll probably have some cold cereal and milk for lunch, I guess.

There was no rain predicted for today, but according to the weather radar online, there's a big swath of rain headed our way from the northwestern part of the state, from over towards the Great Lakes/Quebec border region.

I'm thirsty as hell, but forgot to put anything in the fridge to drink, so I guess I'll settle for a warm soda, go lay down, and contemplate my navel, while I wait for my pain killer to kick in.

Hope everyone is having a good Thursday.

This--I'm not making this up--- from the AP wire, this morning:

Heated partisan debate over President Obama's health care plan, erupting at town hall meetings and in the blogosphere, has more to do with our illogical thought processes than reality, sociologists are finding.

The problem: People on both sides of the political aisle often work backward from a firm conclusion to find supporting facts, rather than letting evidence inform their views.

See what I mean? Americans are morons. They don't think, they can't be bothered. They are THE most intellectually lazy people on the entire planet. They hear one sentence or pharase they like, latch on to it, and make up the rest from there, out of thin air.

They say abortions will be covered and use that to protest---while on the other hand, a living breathing, already conceived and born child, is going to die of cancer, cos' mum and dad can't afford the treatment their child needs. Meaning that the life of an unborn baby is more important to them, than a living child...which, considering they call themselves "pro-life" is something that totally defies any and all logic whatsoever.

They say that NHS is socialism. WTF??? Canada has had NHS for decades--they're not socialist! Neither is England, Netherlands, Iceland, etc....

Palin and the rest of her white trash followers says that NHS will decide how you die when you get old----no NHS anywhere in the world decides how people should die, and this topic isn't even part of the pending legislations---Palin and the right-wing literally just made this up, and believe their own lies.

And those who call NHS facsist, well---straight from Adolf's own playbook, Mein Kempf, they are using hate propaganda, outright lies, and paranoia scare tactics to fight the people of America getting NHS....condeming millions of innocent Americans to long term suffering and even dying...so there is a comparison there, but from the opposition, not the pro-health care people.

Now, America's poor, elderly, disabled, people of different race, women, gays and others who are are not white male proletarians, will have to face the fight alone.

Our greatest defender has passed on. Senator Edward Kennedy, JFK's last surviving brother, has died at age 77.

The right-wing zeros are likely rejoicing, while the thinkers of this nation, those Americans still having depth and character, true courage and compassion, those with human spirit and the capacity for empathy for those Americans whom sufffer, they will have to fight on, alone.

RIP Edward, champion of the poor and downtrodden, the sick and the lame, fighter for human cilivization and decency.

Certain people have been upset by one of my previous posts.

So, here's the skinny as to why i'm not in the most festive of moods today.

Saturday, was the third worst weekend of my life--and certainly, one of the most degrading. Not anyone reading this--I don't care whom you are---can even begin to imagine what I went through. Only the weekend deaths of my parents tops the list, that's how awful this weekend was, for me.

This isn't something I particularly want to blog about, which is why I didn't, before. But, since certain people were upset with one of my posts, I have to say this, I suppose.

As you know, besides the back injuries to my right and left sides, I also had stomach flu. I was utterly unable to eat--therefore, I could not take my pain and anti-inflamitory meds, 'cos you can't take them on an empty stomach. The pain was intense, to say the least--no way I lay, was comfortable, because the pain was on all sides.

I was sweating prodigiously, and for over an hour, absolutely was paralyized by the pain, and could not get out of bed at all. I lay for over an hour on Saturday, in my own sweat, excrement and urine. I was as alone in the world for that hour or so, as I would have been in my own grave.

I'm not even 50 years old yet, and yet, I felt like I was 110.

You have no idea how I longed to hear another human voice, that day. How badly I longed for a knock at the door, a telephone jangle--something, anything. But...all I got was noise from the traffic out on the street, and people coming and going from my flats.

I am not the same person today, as I was a week ago. I don't think I'll ever be the same again, truth to tell.

So, don't expect me to not be bitter, or depressed or whatever. I am not a machine, I am---or used to be, a human being. Actually, I truly feel that I am nothing more to society, than a slab of meat, as long as I live in America, but that's another story, for another day.

I really don't care about Dr Who, or anything else at the moment, but someone sent me this, so I am passing it along, 'cos I know some people might not ever see this, otherwise:

I've spent the entire day in bed, having taken a full dose of pain killers, which knocked me out cold. I have to force myself to work tomorrow morning, which will feel like I've stepped into hell again, I'm sure, but I can't live without money. I just can't go 2 weeks without a pay check

I wish I had killed myself back three years ago. I hate to say that, but it's true. Lying in bed, completely helpless to do anything for myself, all I do is think about my past life--all those thousand little things I used to take for granted and now will never experience again, and I think about the life I could have had, had I been smarter, nicer looking, not stinking mentally ill.

It's not been a good day, today.

Still no one has gone out of his or her way to think about me. Not one person in this entire world, has called or stopped by or PM'd or e-mailed, to simply say, "how are you feeling? can I do anything for you? do you need anything?" No one stinking person. I might as well be dead, for all anyone would notice. I don't get cards or flowers, I don't get anything. When I do die, not a damn person in the world will ever notice or stinking care. I am nothing. I am nobody. I am walking garbage.

Yeah, I'm bitter, sue me.

my pain killer wore off a while ago, and I've been plunged back into hell, again.

I'm sooo--famished! Four days without eating, you have no idea....but the torture is, that I can't stand upright long enough to even make myself a sandwich or bowl of cereal or anything! I tried, I really tried, but it's no use. Two minutes in the kitchen, and I'm bolting back to bed for a lie down.

I've only 27 dollars to take me through the next 10 days, but I said to hell with it, I ordered a small tuna & mayonnaise sub from East End Eatery. I just hope I can stand up long enough to get to the door when it's delivered. 20 dollars for ten days--well, all I need is cat food, bin bags, toilet paper, possibly bread, and a drink of some kind. I can live without milk and such, for 10 days, if need be, but the water here from our taps is so rubbish, it's unbeliveable that they call it fit to drink. It's been contaminated once or twice, in the past, from "Beaver Fever," a disease that comes from...well, beavers, that gets into the local water supply here in the city, sometimes. Maybe the blokes at the Glens Falls water treatment plant, think adding a little dirt for flavouring, will cut the taste of the pollutants?

Took another half-dose of pain killer....I want to go easy on them, the hospital didn't give me many...it's a controlled substance, so it's strictly regulated, here in New York state. I can't take the anti-inflamitory until I eat, as taking it by itself can make me sick--and that's the last thing I need.

It's overcast today, in the wake of Hurricane Bill.

Our front lawn of my flats where I live, is actually being mowed. Only about the third time all summer. Two twats with tools--the man and wife team that are supposed to keep up the building, sort of do things "whenever we can get around to it," and, as usual, pretty much half-arsed.

Actually though, it's nice to hear a lawn mower.

There's comfort foods--home cooked foods like mum and/or gran used to make, and for me, there's also comfort sounds, as well.

In my head, I can still hear the sound of dad's old green walk-behind K-Mart lawn mower, as he mowed the front and side lawns--and the back too, when he was in the mood. We had 3/4 of an acre, so it could take a while to mow the whole thing. Something I don't think dad ever thought of, when he bought our building lot back in 1959, and put a wee black and white Cape Cod style home on it.

I liked the sound of the mower, the ratchety putter getting weaker and stronger in tune to whether dad walking up or down the rows. When the grass was raked, we girls--my sister and I, and maybe some of the girls nearby--and Bobby, the boy next door, would take turns jumping in the piles.

I remember the sweet-sour smell of the fresh cut grass, and the itchyness of it on my bare skin.

There was something contended feeling, of a hot Sunday afternoon in summer, hearing a neighbour mowing, the distant buzz coordinating with the high-pitched whine of a ciccadia in the trees...dad sitting in his ever-present outdoor lounge chair...he never bought a new one. When the old one wore out the plastic mesh, he just bought new mesh and re-wove the seat and back. Dad had the same chair for 20 years. Sundays, after church, he'd drag the chair down to the two oversize hackberry trees on our front lawn, and mum would bring him his breakfast--usually two eggs sunny side up, bacon, buttered toast and OJ. Later, I'd bring him a cold glass of lemonade.

Well, my pain killer is kicking in, so that's a relief. And, my tuna sandwich is here...thank god! It'll be worth the hardship, trust me. I'm so, desperately hungry, I could eat a horse steak....and for a formally horse-crazy kid, that's really saying something!

Cheers.

Wow, I hardly knew what day it was.

The nausea meds the clinic gave me yesterday, have done wonders for me. I got a good sleep, feel more rested than I have in days, actually ate a half a cheese sandwich this morning--first solid food since Wednesday night, and, as a consequence of a slightly better stomach, was able to take my anti-inflamitory pill, and, dared to take half a dose of my pain killer, for the first time today.

I'm feeling very light-headed--the pain killer, Oxyconton, is rather strong, but who cares? I didn't want to push taking a full dose, being as I'm terribly weak, but maybe in a day or so, I can take the full dose then, and be up and about a bit more.

Saturday was one of the low-points of my life. I won't get into details, cos' quite honestly, it's disgusting, even to me. But, lying in bed unable to move for hours on end--in silence, no TV, internet, book--too sick to even to use the loo, drenched with sweat and dealing with the stomach flu and pain in both sides of your back, and no one but no one to talk to or be with, was one of THE most degrading and miserable experiences of my lifetime.

It's never fun being ill and/or hurt of course, but being ill/hurt, lying compltely alone, totally--I mean that literally--totally helpless....not even a dumb animal should have to go through that.

But, I will get over it and move on, just like everything else in my life.

I'm going to appreciate more things, from now on: Being able to take a hot shower, eating, being able to change my sheets--hell, I may just fall in love with doing housework, ha-ha. I don't know how the paralyzed and wheelchair bound can stand it, really I don't.

The doctor's office said that my illness is probably the stomach flu that's been going 'round our city of late. The nurse gave me a script for some stomach meds to help, and told me to keep hydrated, and that it's ok if I can't eat for another day or two, but beyond that, I have to go back to the docs to be checked. This strain of stomach virus is especially easy to catch, apparently, and they think I got it while in hospital, Wednesday.

So, that's settled, then. I can handle the pain, more or less, but that stomach thing was about keeling me arse over teakettle. I can tough things out, but I'm just not that tough, I'm afraid.

I haven't had any solid food to speak of since Wednesday night, and boy am I feeling it!! Jeez, weak as a kitten, I am.

On the bright side, apparently I've just lost 14 pounds--a whole stone in weight, in less than a week.

Not a fun way to lose it, though.

The bad news is, that thanks to America's screwed up healh care system, I couldn't afford the muscule relaxers the hospital prescribed (cos they weren't covered by my medical insurance)--they were $59.00. I also couldn't get approved for the nausea pills, and had to get a half-bottle instead of a full one, which cost me $12.

So, that means--with the cost of cab fare and a partial office visit co-pay thown in with the cost of the medications, that I now have all of 27 dollars to get me through to the 3rd of Sept. Lovely.

I normally don't mind being alone. Quite used to it. But, yesterday I was in misery, and the only person I spoke with all day was the Chinese takeaway guy.

Sometimes, just sometimes, a thoughtful word to someone who is sick and alone is worth more to that person, than a million dollars or all the fame in the world.

My sister never returned my phone call. Neither did my farm lady friend. My next door neighbour never stopped by to see if I was doing OK.

Normally, I don't care about stuff like that. I understand that people have their own lives to live, and need their own time and space, and aren't put on this earth to cater to my needs or whims. And..that's all right and good. If I don't hear from my sister or a friend for weeks or even months, I'm fine with that.

But, sometimes, just sometimes, I would give anything, for the sound of a friendly voice.

Life sucks, that's for sure.

I'm off to the Broad St. Heath Ctr. in a bit. After I manage to feed the cats, shower (I be a wee stinky) and change.

After once again waking soaking wet, I realized that I may have more than just a bad back. Spent money I could ill afford last night, ordering a couple of pints of soup from Main Moon--god, that tasted good, too. I just drank the broth, but it's the first thing that's not caused my stomach to turn over, in days. Can't say as much for the cherry gelatin dessert, I had, later, unfortunately. So, I am weak as a kitten, and need to get some help before I end up seriously ill....I just hope there's someone good on at the center. If there's not...?

I have totally lost the feeling in my left foot and calf, still can't feel my right bum and hip and part of my stomach...except where it really hurts, of course. The pain I can live with, one gets acclimated to pain--the same way one gets acclimated to extremes of cold or heat I suppose, mostly, it's this damn sea-sick feeling that goes with it, that's making me so ill.

So, we'll see what we shall see, I guess.

Hope all my friends are having a good weekend. Hurricane Bill has by-passed us here, having swept in, here and gone, during the night, without any damange at all. Still some residual showers about, but nothing heavy.

Ergh---can't sleep, can't eat, can't sit in a chair for more than 10 min. at a time, can't sit up in bed at all, can't comfortably read, can't reach the outlet to plug in my portable dvd player--god, it sucks to be me, this week.

Someone sent me a meme whilst I was away from blogging, going to take a while to do this, but I'm screaming with nothing to do--can't even stinking look out a window, cos, there's none near my bed.

I can sit for a bit, and I'm trying to not stay in bed too much, if nothing else, to prevent bedsores--I only have an old torn plastic hospital mattress that belonged to my late mum, on top of some mangy old box springs, and until now, I didn't realize how uncomfortable it really is.

Someone in the building is cooking and using way, way too much garlic-well, for my iffy tummy, it just stinks. Bleh.

So, someone sent me a sci-fi meme, it'll take a while, but I'm going to give it a shot.

______________________________________________________________________________

Sci fi meme;

1. Your scariest film monster?

The Blob. I mean, a giant maneating piece of raw liver, how cool is that? Well, as a wee child, it not only had me behind the sofa, it had me practically under it.

2. Scariest TV monster?

Daleks, hands down. Insane giant pepper pots with eyestalks and ray guns, can't beat that.

3. Favorite sci-fi film hero?

Han Solo. Very cool dude.

4. Favorite sci-fi television hero?

Doctor Who, no contest.

5. Worst sci-fi alien ever created?

Jar-jar Binks. Can't stand him.

i'm trying to get up and about more today, and eat something, too. The eating bit's not going so well, but I did manage to change the litter box, so that's something at least.

I can handle the pain, it's this damn sea-sickness from the pain, that's doing me in. Haven't bothered getting my meds yet...all of them have to be taken with food, and I can't eat hardly anything, so it's sort of pointless. I'd kill for some chicken broth, and if I had the cash to spare, i'd order from Main Moon over on Bay st, and get some of their delicious won ton chicken soup (minus the won tons)...'cept they've got a $10 min. on delivery, so that's out of the question.

Can't cook at all, but I bought some disposable plastic forks and spoons, and some paper plates, to help me in the pinch.

My experience at the local hospital was less than endearing. Basically, I felt more like a slab of meat in a butcher shop, than a patient. I thought they were busy, but the nurse told me it was slow--I was treated like crap. They just shoved me in a room, had me undress, gave me two shots--one in each bum cheek, got a sample from me to check my kidneys, and then left me to my own devices.

No one answered a single one of my questions--well, I only asked two: why was I sweating so extra-heavily (I was soaked through). They told me "maybe my apartment was hot." Yeah? So then, how come an hour after I arrived, in an air-conditioned room, was I suddenly breaking out into a sweat again?

I wasn't given a sheet or a pillow...I had to ask for a sheet when my sweat dried and I began to shiver. The pillow was given to me pretty much as an afterthought.

The other question was why my stomach was so queasy. The firemen-paramedics and the nurses all were quite put out that I'd not taken my diabetes med (they were bothered that I hadn't also taken my hypertension meds, though)...I kept telling them I had, but I couldn't keep it down. How hard is that to understand? They were acting like "this is just another poor bimbo who doesn't take care of herself." I know the attitude quite well, you see. Amnericans really do get two different treatments, sometimes---one health care for rich and poor alike? Bullshite.

anyway, other than giving me a pill for my nausea, they ignored the stomach issue pretty much like it was non-existant.

I also told them I hadn't been able to drink anything in 12 hours--did they give me any water? no! I had to ask...and then waited 40 min. The nurse said she'd get me a cold gingerale, which sounded blissful to me...then vanished and never came back. I asked a second nurse 40 min. later--by the clock in the room, and finally got a little cup of ice water, which I gulped down gratefully.

Discharge came, the doctor handed me three scripts--anti-inflamatory, percoset for pain and a muscle relaxer.

The real clincher was the 20-something discharge nurse, whom I decided on the spot to call (mentally) "Nurse Barbie." You know the type, stuck up, perfect bodied, ex-shopping mall girl, perfectly tanned, blond, and definately not in the nursing profession out of compassion or empathy.

I'm lying in agony--the shot was starting to wear off, and she lets down the sides of my bed and says, "you can get dressed" and leaves. Yeah, well, my tee shirt was on a chair in the far corner of the room, and my jeans were no where in sight, and I could hardly move from the pain. Barbies, gotta' love 'em...not.

When I realized I didn't have my wallet on me--no cab fare home (naturally, this city wouldn't dream of having bus service to the hospital), I was upset and said I lived along and had no one to pick me up and no way home. Barbie got all put out when I told her i had no way to go home....the bimbo actually rolled her eyes at me! "there's no one you could call?" If there was, wouldn't I be ringing them up? And, didn't just say I didn't?

America--land where people talk at you, and not to you, and never-ever listen.

Barbie says she doesn't know if anything can be done, but she'll ask, and that I could go out to the waiting room---unassisted. i couldn't walk and asked her to help me. "Do you want a wheelchair?" (eyeroll), Yeeees, that would be nice nurse arsehole.

So, I wound up parked by the front doors of the lobby, all by myself, basically forgotten...until my next door neighbour walked in, to pick up his sister who was also in the ER that day. Thank god for small favours, and curse the local ER.

Anyway, she told me snarkily that the hospital doesn't pay people's cab fare home--I told her they'd better get used to me

my life has just turned into puree of bat guano.

today, after 3 hours taken to shower and change--I can only sit/stand for a few minutes at a time, before having to go lie down, so I have to do things in increments. I literally hadn't eaten any solid food since Wednesday night. couldn't keep anything down, as sometimes the pain gets so intense it upsets my stomach.

1. got up to find that bcuk is not acknolwedging the issue with some mindless creep trying to change my password--that bcuk has no clue that this is a major security issue. Anyone can request to have your password changed, on bcuk, and bcuk doesn't get that that is a massive problem.

2. finally crawled into to my office to get my check--I was down to 3 dollars. Got my check--and forgot my wallet. So, had to use my last 3 dollars for a cab home.

3. got out of the cab, only to be told that my bike had been stolen.

4. managed to cadge a ride from someone in my building, to the supermarket to cash my check and get some beverages and food and pet food--did all my shopping (via handicapped cart)--in absolute agony, went to cash my paycheck...and it wasn't in my wallet! I was in tears. I mean, tears, cos' i had no money and the supermarket was on the other end of the city from where I live. But, a nice man that worked at the shop, let me borrow four dollars for a cab.

all I'd been dreaming about all day==I mean, with the longing of someone stranded in the desert wanting water, all I wanted all day, was a cold drink of gingerale--you have no idea how disheartening it was, to have to leave that bottle of gingerale behind, and go back home. I ran out of beverages Thursday morning, and all I've had is our mangy city
tap water, which honestly does taste like dirt.

5. Went home in a panic, looking for my lost pay check--the 95 dollars is the only money between me and Sept. 3rd, when I get my disability check. After a search, I found tangled in the sheets of my bed--I have to lay down a lot, and when I came home from the office, it must have fallen out of my jeans pockets.

6. got back to the store, did my shopping, got my gingerale, at last. They didn't have any cold gingerale, so I also bought a bottle of cold Sprite, cos' I was so terribly parched...the pain though, of having to shop twice and going up and down my stairs here, was too much for me. The Sprite, I suspect was too sweet, as well, for it didn't agree with me. No sooner had I left the till with my purchases, than I had to rush to the ladies to be sick. being sick on a virtually empty stomach hurts like hell, by the way. It felt like someone stuck a knife in my guts--blimey! I was practically passing out with it.

7. Well, got home, after a rest I had some Jello gelatin dessert that I bought from the dairy case...it stayed down, so after a while I tried some gingerale and a couple of crackers. So far so good. I slept a long time without even knowing it. Went to bed at 9pm, seemed like I'd just been dozing, but woke to find it was 5am---talk about feeling disoriented! I felt like I'd not even slept at all. Went to the loo...and felt a drip, drip, drip of cold water on my back---christ!

I've got a small hole in my bathroom ceiling, with water dripping through!

Now what???

As if I didn't have enough woes today. I strugged down to the office--took several hours just to shower and change, the trip on the bus was agony...get there, and...I forgot my flippin' wallet! So, there I was with a pay check and no way to cash it. I had to use my literal last three dollars for a cab home, instead of to the store and phamachy

i can sort of walk after a fashion, with a cane, but sitting--and especially standing, are pure torture! Standing makes me nauseaus and woozy..sometimes I get so bad, I get sick. At times, lying down or whatever, I'll just break out into reams of sweat, so bad that I look like I just came in out of the rain.

I can't feed myself, 'cos I can't reach the cupboard to get plates or glasses, and I can't stand long enough to cook anything---so I haven't eaten since Turesday night. I'm shanky and weak. It took me two hours Wednesday, just to fill a litte plastic jug of water, just so I'd have something to drink in the house--wouldn't these things happen when one is flat broke?

Came home from picking up my check, and my neighbour yells as I'm getting out of the cab, that someone just stole my bike!

He left his, and took mine!

I rang the police, my neighbour gave the teen's description, the police took the bike the bloke left away with them, and I thought I'd be kissing my bike, farewell.

An hour later, I'm ltying down, and the police knock at my door--they caught the mook at the local convenient store around the corner, red-handed with my bike.

The perp told the officers that he "didn't like the way his bike was riding, and thought he'd try" mine. Now he's going to be tried...in front of a flippin' city court judge.

What a moron!

this is going to be hard, I'm not doing well, I'm afraid.

I'm in a lot of pain. I have sciatica around my pelvic joint on the left, and have re-developed my old sciatic injury from 20 yrs ago, on my left side, from my bum to my foot...and now, besides my right hip being numb, my left foot is numb, as well.

sciatica is basically a pinched nerve, and it hurts. A lot.

I'm not doing so hot. Can't eat, don't want to anyway. nausea, sweats, chills, every time I try to walk or use the loo or whatever.

totally helpess, my worst nightmare, going to be out of the loop for a while.

took my 3 hours just to write this.

typing hard

going 2 hospital very sic will keep u posted ta

I won't be blogging for a while.

I've injured myself rather badly, I'm afraid. I can't really sit comfortably long enough to blog, and standing/walking is agony.

I think I may have contracted sciatica in my right side, but am not sure, because there's other symptoms involved and I don't know if they're separate or related.

Can't afford to go to hospital--I'd have to ring up an ambulance, and that's a good $400 just for them showing up. Plus, I only have a dollar and change in the house, and would have to walk home--which would be sheer torture, quite frankly.

Being alone and sick or hurt, is THE worst thing in the world. I have to do everything myself, when all I want to do is lie in bed and just....

Well, anyway, I won't be around online until I can handle sitting down comfortably, again.

Have a good week, all. Love ya'. Nancy G. (aka pw27)

As if losing money from my pay check by being sick, getting that notice from the govt yesterday, wasn't bad enough.

Today I woke with a severe back ache. I can't sit. I can't stand. I can only dress myself lying down. I can't use the toilet. The only time it doesn't hurt is when I'm lying flat.

It feels like someone's taking a piece of my insides over my upper bum and squeezing them with their fist.

How the hell am I going to work tomorrow? I HAVE to go to the laundromat today, or I won't have any clean pants or trousers or jeans this week.

Life sucks and then you die.

Before i put on a DVD, I thought I'd surf the webs for pics of David Tennant for my Roasting David blog.

So, I was on some fan forums that sometimes post recent pics of the actor...and wow, what a bunch of foo-foo-rah is going on, on one of the fan sites. It's seems another fan-site, I take it "the" official DT fan site, is down.

Jeez, there had to be 25 posts to the board on the site I was on, all with fan girls wailing and rending their hair--or, alternately, having temper tantrums--all because they've lost their favourite DT site.

Wow, that DT is one powerful dude with the ladies. You think he'd died or gotten married or something, the way they were carrying on. It's just a website, it'll be back, I'm sure.

Websites go down for maitenance all the time. True, there could be a more sinister reason, like a virus attack or some legal authority shutting them down for a violation. Still, the reaction of these girls was way over the top. Wow, these kids a just a tad....enthusiastic. (If I wanted to be ill-mannered, I'd say bonkers--erm, I just did, didn't I? Sorry.)

Price-rite had bottles of Propel "water beverage" on sale last week, for 50 cents each. I normally balk at buying most bottled water, cos' it's not really cost effective.

But, hey, 2 24-ounce bottles for a dollar? I could swing that.

And, they were quite good, actually. They were flavoured water--I got one grape and one lemon. Sometimes flavoured bottled water that's sweetened with artificial sweetener, leaves an unpleasant aftertaste in my mouth. Some artificial sweeteners also upset my stomach slightly. But, this didn't. And I thought, maybe I'll buy some more.

Then, I looked at the label. Remember, I'm a diabetic with hypertension.

30 calories per bottle--OK, not great for water, but not bad. 210mg of sodium. What??? That's a bit salty for a drink, isn't it? Sugars, 6 grams. Well, I try to avoid sugar as much as I can, but that's not too bad.

The ingredients of this so-called "water" beverage gave me pause, as well: Water, high fructose corn syrup, natural flavors, sodium hexa-something which is supposed to "protect" the flavour....plus vitamin C, sodium citrate, potassium citrate, sucfralose, and a bunch of other stuff with longer and more unpronouncable names than an eastern European.

So, can you really go arond calling this stuff water? Sure, it's got water as a main ingredient--but then, so does most soda and fruit juice beverages....even iced tea, when you think of it, is mostly water.

I've discovered that this song's been around for a couple years now, but I only heard it--and this band, for the first time, this week. I told you I've lead a very isolated existance, I wasn't kidding.

Anyway, I really dig this tune, it's got a great groove to it, I think.

Another summer suana night here in northern New York. The kind of night I used to like--when I lived in the country--to sit out and listen to the night sounds--crickets, the light breeze in the trees, sounding like a far-away ocean pounding a distant sshore. Like tonight, I'd have a cold drink and some music softly playing in the background.

I sat out on the balcony with Flame again, sitting on the wee plastic table next to me. We were watching the traffic go by. I looked at Flame and said, "Not a very exciting city, is this?" As if she understood me, Flame actually looked at me and gave a big yawn. Leave it to my pets to make me smile when I have nothing to smile about.

I was watering my impatients that are hanging from my balcony post, and almost got stung by a yellowjacket! Whoa. I don't like bees, but I am scared to death of yellowjackets. That's a an evilly mean small wild bee. They are easily provoked, let me tell you. I got attacked by some when I was in my teens, and the resulting stings in my left arm, sent me to the ER and then put me in bed for nearly a week, with a baking soda poultice on my arm, to draw out the venom. I wasn't allergic, it was just really intense. I was stung over a dozen times in one small spot in my upper arm--probably by just one or two of these nasty little bees. They attack you see, and keep on attacking. They followed me all the way up to the front steps of my house.

I was a tomboy. I used to go barefoot sometimes, as a child, when I was out playing in the grass. I've been stung by wasps, wild honey bees, hornets, you name it. And yes, I'm afraid of them, but I'm terrified of yellowjackets.

One more day off, then it's back to the old grind. Didn't get to the laundromat today. That letter totally knocked the wind out of my sails. My plans for today, were to hit the laundromat in the early afternoon, then go to the lake for a quick refreshing swim in the late afternoon. After getting that letter, all I could do was lie in bed, trying to cope with the resulting depression.

I'm trying, really I am. I'm listening to some music I find somewhat inspirational. Like this song:

SWEATERS by Beth Waters
this worn out sweater is slightly torn
like the mouth of that old woman waiting for that phone
and I hear a little laughter from my own
cause I see so many sweaters that refuse to be sewn
mmmm

well I finally threw my valentine away
it was crumpled and faded
and as I kept it I had always thought the world would be that way
until I opened up the drawer and it had changed

and it called to mind how I’d always felt like I’m
just living in this life for a while
and how you get so far beneath yourself
it’s hard to see the journey with a smile

but I believe I can change the world just give me time
I believe I can change the world just give me time
I believe, I believe I can change the world
I believe I can change the world just give me time
just give me time

well I tried to start that journal once or twice
but I always end up writing notes on day-to-day life
and like all of us I’m just trying to hang on
in the middle of the carousel it’s much more calm
mmmm

and it called to mind how I’d always felt like I’m
the last one to hear of things
I’m in the back of the room watching all of you
I go unnoticed but I notice everything

but I believe I can change the world just give me time
I believe I can change the world just give me time
I believe, I believe I can change the world
I believe I can change the world
just give me time
just give me time
just give me time
just give time
yeah

I had planned on going to the Hyde Collection to seriously take in the much-vaunted "Degas and Music" exhibition on Tuesday. Now, I don't think so. I'm going to do my best to go through with carrying on as usual, but I suddenly don't feel like doing anything 'fun.'

I'm sitting here roasting, and envying the people in the apartment house next door, who have air conditioners. I had to leave mine behind in my flat in Lake George, in 2006, because my mover didn't show and I couldn't carry the thing downstairs--it weighed about 50 pounds.

It's 88 F in here...about 31 C, again. Bleh. Time for another cool shower, I think. Playwrite27 is a bit stinky. Then I'll watch a bit of Dr Who, that's always made me forget my troubles for a short while.

Maybe it's not a bad thing, no one is here. I wouldn't want to be around me, of late.

I'm trying to cope, really I am. I just had my whole world turned on end, bum over tea kettle.

Yes, the American government can take everything you have--quite literally, everything. They want what actually amounts to about roughly 2 1/2 to 3 years income from me, over $25,000.

It's not that I don't want to repay my student loans. I tried, I really, really tried, a couple of years back, to get better terms...my god, sometimes I didn't have any food to eat, or money to pay for medicine, (even tho' I was working flat out), where the hell was I going to get the money to pay them? But, I was--in some cases, very coarsely--rebuffed for my efforts, when I rang my various lenders to explain my situation. No deferrments were offered, no lower payments, nothing. The attitude of all of my student lenders was pay us what you owe or don't bother us.

My Vermont lenders are garnishing my wages, My New York State lenders are garnishing my wages and took my state tax refund this year, now the US govt. is going to take my social security disability money AND my US federal tax refund, AND garnish my wages, too.

Now, if my weekly pay check is under something like $170--which it always is--next week I'll be bringing home about $85 or $90 due to my being out sick, I'm protected from having my wages garnished in New York, because of something to do with poverty guidelines, from what I've been told. However, I don't know if that will apply with the federal govt, or not.

We don't have bailiffs in America, but, you can be sued in court and the court can order that you lose your home, your possessions, your income--in America, espectially with a greedy pig of a government, you can lose everything pretty much, but the actual clothes on your back.

In America, the wealthy can afford to file bankruptcy, the poor cannot. The poor have no advocates, no one to help. Legal Aid is so backed up, they are accepting fewer and fewer casses.

It's just like our health care system and every thing else--we are two nations, nowadays: the haves and the have not's. There is no longer truly a middle class. You either have, or you don't...or you're teetering on the brink.

So, I just got told by post, that I'm going to lose my life. I don't mean suicide--tho' that's a way out of this stinking hell, I suppose. No, I'm about to lose my cats, my possessions, the roof over my head--I'll have to quit my job. There's no homeless shelters in my city--well, there is one. It's a homeless shelter for teenagers only, and it has all of three beds. There's a couple of welfare motels, but they're notorious pest holes full of gang memebers, drunks and drug addicts. I'd honestly feel safer living outside in some alleyway or in an abandoned building. I can't live with my sister, we love each other, but she's...well, it just wouldn't work. She's got a violent temper, for one thing. I mean violent, as in the literal sense.

In the meantime, I'm trying desperately not to think about all this, too much. If I do, quite honestly, I might do something stupid, and I'm not willing to do that.

When I first started taking acting class in college, in 2001, my professor would ask me to get into some of the most outrageious, embarrassing, and ridiculous situations--and, timid at first, eventually I learned to just shrug and plunge into things with gusto---I sucked at it, but, I sucked with style.

Well, I really don't want to care. I really don't. I am not going to fight this, I'm going to let this, my actual and real worst nightmare, happen to me. It'll be like having to stand by, and watch someone you love burn to death. I am powerless. I have no power to stop this. I have not the energy any more to try.

However, if I am going to go down the darkest road of my life, into a genuinely living hell, I'm going to just throw myself away into the maelstorm. To hell with it!

For a while, I thought my life might finally be getting some sense of normalcy again, this year--for the first time since 2005. I was wrong. my own goverment has opened the doors to my own personal hell, and I am going to just walk in.

I suck as a human being, I fail as a human being---but I'm gonna suck and fail with gusto.

As some of you know, I was rudely awakened at 1.30 am Friday night by the Domino's pizza delivery guy, getting the wrong apartment. This was the second late night awakening, for the same reason, in the past year.

I wrote Domino's and lodged a complaint. First I got an automated response from their laugable "customer service.'

Then I got this sarcastic and rather infantile e-mail from the owner/manager of the local shop, Larry George:

"Normally for any complaint I would offer a free meal and dessert on us but since you hate Domino's Pizza all I can do is apologize for my driver disturbing you last night"...bleh, bleh, bleh..

Screw Dominos. There's Pizza Hut, Irish Pizza, East End Eatery, Brooklyn Pizza, and about a half-dozen others, to chose from--and if I want a hot sub, besides these others, there's subway, Quizno's, Mr. B's Best, New Way Lunch, etc.

If I didn't already hate Dominos before, I certainly do, now!

I'm gone. I'm done. I have no more reason to live.

I just got a notice from the United States Department of Education. I haven't had the money in years, to pay back my student loans. It's not that I don't want to pay them, it's that they're so high, I can't. I just can't.

I was just starting to get my life back, after four long years. I was just starting to feel 'normal' again, just starting to get back on my feet---and now, my own government has signed my death warrant.

I just got a letter in the post, that says they are taking everything from me: my tax refund, my social security disability, my wages, eveyrthing.

I don't want to lose my cats, my possessions, the roof over my head. I might as well be dead. I'll lose the one thing in my life I have left to live for--my independece.

They bail out the fucking banks, they bail out the fucking stock brokers, they bail out people with homes...but peoople like me, living at the poverty level, they throw to the fucking wolves.

I hate America. It's a mean, grasping hypocritical stinking country. It's a cesspool. America had no pride or honour any more. It's just....rubbish.

Oh, and I don't own a car, I don't hardly have any money---but if I want a "personal hearing" I have to travel 180 miles to NEW YORK CITY.

I'm fucked. Obama and his government has just told me to bend over and take it from behind.

Over across our border, a university in Canada has proved that Canadian educators are a step ahead of their American collegues. A university in Canada has introduced a new grade: FD.

The FD is the absolute lowest grade any human being can acheive. Falling below the traditional failing grade of F, the FD stands for "failure with dishonesty." It's intended for students who cheaat or plagarize.

As the victim of a student's plagarizm---I got hauled into the head of the English department's office one time, where he accused me of stealing another student's paper. Now, aside from the fact that my previous five English profs until then, could all automatically recognize my work (I had my own unique writing style/voice)--and despite the fact that I got a letter of commendation for my voluntary writing portfolio from my previous college--meaning I was confident enough of my own writing, that I didn't need to plagarize anyone's work--despite all that, I abhor plagarism, want nothing to do with it, or the morons who do it.

Anyway, after I got over my initial (and genuine) shock, I produced the floppy disk with my paper on it. Turns out, the student who'd pointed the finger at me, had stolen the essay, unawares that it was the paper of someone in her own class. I always printed out two copies of my essay in the school computer lab. (Never owned a printer.)

Apparently, I'd unwittingly left one copy behind. She snagged it, and we both turned in the same essay...and the head of the English Dept at my Vermont college went to the other girl first, who...well, you know the rest. The man handled the whole affair very badly and unprofessionally. For a four-year college, some of their "professional" teachers, really weren't very.

What got me, is that the bitch who stole my paper, only got an F, and wasn't kicked out of the course, and certainly wasn't kicked out of school. She made up another lie that she must have picked my paper up by accident, and handed it in, not realizing it was hers. WTF???

It would have been justice giving her an FD...but I don't suppose the head of the college's English dept. would have even done that. Maybe he was simply thick-skulled, maybe he was lazy and couldn't be arsed, maybe he was banging the girl, I don't know. I just know that I never got any sense of justice or vindication out of it, and it's always left a sour taste in my mouth, for that college.

The song title means, "The Counter-Clockwise Circle," or "The Circle Dance."

The best I could find was only a partial translation of the lyrics: "As We All Hold Each Others Hand Within A Circle To Gather Each Other In Wonderful Harmony Let This Music..."

Native American music uses lots of repetition, so that's why you hear the same lyrics, over and over again....a circle of words, a circle of music, a circle of dancers.

Anyone who has spent any time "communing" with nature, understands the circle. The Native Americans (Indians) did, Ralph Waldo Emerson did, when he wrote 'Circles" and I did, when I wrote in my teenage journal, about standing inside the circle--the centre--of the universe, when I was out in the woods and fields.

Emerson:

Nature centres into balls,
And her proud ephemerals,
Fast to surface and outside,
Scan the profile of the sphere;
Knew they what that signified,
A new genesis were here.

Reading this basically knocked my socks off, when I was a teenager:

"The eye is the first circle; the horizon which it forms is the second; and throughout nature this primary figure is repeated without end. It is the highest emblem in the cipher of the world. St. Augustine described the nature of God as a circle whose centre was everywhere, and its circumference nowhere. We are all our lifetime reading the copious sense of this first of forms. One moral we have already deduced, in considering the circular or compensatory character of every human action. Another analogy we shall now trace; that every action admits of being outdone. Our life is an apprenticeship to the truth, that around every circle another can be drawn; that there is no end in nature, but every end is a beginning; that there is always another dawn risen on mid-noon, and under every deep a lower deep opens."

1. You've decided to go on a picnic with friends or family. What do you take?

Depends.

If there's a BBQ, then probably chicken or steak, maybe burgers instead, if it's a large crowd. It might be served with my own version of cold New England baked beans (A large tin of Grandma Brown's navy beans, which I'd generously mix with maple syrup or some molassas and brown sugar, with a few finely minced onions and a dash of dry mustard, baked and then refridgerated overnight).

With it, I'd maybe make come cold salad--tiny shrimp or--much cheaper tuna, mixed with macaroni or shell pasta, onion powder and mayonaise...or potato and mayonnasise salad. An alternative (although I don't like them), might be either sliced garden tomatoes, or a cucumber-onion salad. If really ambitious, some deviled hard boiled eggs would be thrown in. Desert would be either watermelon slices, or maybe cupcakes or cookies (biscuits).

If it's an impromptu picnic, with just two or three of us, I'd do something easy and simple--for example, maybe some KFC chicken cold in the bucket, with baked beans and coleslaw. Or, we'd stop along the way and get a sub sandwich and potato salad or chips (crisps) and drinks, at a little mom and pop country grocers or a sub shop. For desert, we'd stop for ice cream somewhere on the way home.

At least, that's what I used to do. I don't go on picnics any more. Like holidays and birthdays, it's kind of pointless, on your own.

2. Temperature where you are sitting, right now?

I'll have to go and look. My little copper buffalo (the animal, not the city) souvenier thermometer is on the balcony window sill, across the room.

It says it's the same temp it was three hours ago, 30 C.

3. Last time you farted?

Why do you want to know? Well, if you must, about 5 seconds ago. I had chili and cornbread for dinner tonight, and bean-beef chimichangas for brunch.

At the risk of sounding crude, I predict an evening of musical interludes.

4. Are you listening to music? If yes, what? And, what's playing now? If no, why not?

I've got the player on Roasting David going. It plays all my favourite tunes: indie, pop, rock, oldies, easy listening/vocals, folk, etc.

Canadian Rose by Blues Traveler just finished. Now Shimmy Low by The Clarks is playing...I just added that to my player this week. I heard it by chance and really dug it. (Did I just date myself with that expression?) I've never heard of The Clarks, but I think it's a very catchy tune, I liked it from the second I heard it. Be a good song to drive or chill out, to.

5. Your favourite courses in primary school? High School? University?

My favorite classes in common (now called elementary) school, were English, Social Studies (history), and art.

In high school, the same, English and History. And in my 12th year, I got to "apprentice" for a month, at a riding stable. I wound up just raking the indoor ring and dusting the lamps in the boarder's lounge, and got to groom the worst behaved horse in the place, but still it was rather cool, getting let out of school to do something I loved and would have done anyway, at the drop of a hat.

My first time round at college in 1979/80, western horsemanship and English were my favourites, and music appreciation, I liked that, as well.

Second college here in the north country where I live, which I went to from autum of '99 to spring of 2003, my theater courses were wonderful--acting, directing, etc, and in a small way, life-changing. No regrets there. International studies (Water studies) at my home college and a college in the northern Netherlands was also life-changing. There was playwrighting--that's probalby #1. But there was State and Local Government, broadcast writing, my two archaelogy courses, three--half of my half-dozen, English courses I enjoyed, American history courses and Environmental Issues in the Adirondacks was nice. Even tho' I totally sucked at it and got a D- grade, I sort of enjoyed topics in chemistry (mainly cos' the professor was a such a fascinating and informative woman). For various reasons, I had a love/hate relationship with my second international studies/archaeology course (the one that took us to Egypt for a few weeks).

At my third college (2003 to 2005) in Vermont, I liked western horsemanship, news writing and reporting, public relations, marketing (that was a big surprise to me..thought I'd hate it), world geography, public speaking, introduction to communications, introduction to art (sucked at drawing, but it was challenging), world lit to the romantic era (FINALLY got to study Shakespeare/Hamlet, hoo-ray!), journal writing....news editing was boring as hell, but interesting too, in a way.

6. Last time you went to a museum or historic site?

I actually plan on going to the museum on Tuesday, to see the full "Degas and Music" exhibit. I didn't see the whole thing, last time. Historic site? Well, in a way, Lake George was the site of two major battles in two different American wars (Queen Anne's/Revolutionary), so the place is one big historic site, really.

Someone has apparently requested a change in my bcuk blog password.

It most certainly wasn't me.

This bastard is going down. As soon as bcuk responds, I am contacting the police.

Please be aware that this could happen to you. If you get an e-mail from bcuk advising that you've had your password changed, and live in the USA, this sort of activity is highly ILLEGAL! I have to look it up again, but I do believe this person is in violation of FEDERAL LAW.

bE ADVISED that if this stupid loser does this to you, you should both send an e-mail alert to bcuk, and then contact your police or the federal government.

I got bugged again by a co-worker, why I didn't date. I could have given her a laundry list of reasons, but I won't go into it now.

Anyway, American men are not always very...erm--mature. It's a bit like dating a perpetual teenager with some serious insecurity issues, quite frankly.

I was getting a cold lemonade in Lake George one day. Went to a little cafe and sat down at a table, sipping my fresh-squeezed lemonade (I don't ususally pay $2.75 for a cold drink, but it was really good!) But, while I was there, a nice looking 20-something couple came in...neatly if not poshly dressed, holding hands--but, the guy was sporting i-pod wires coming out of his ears!

Blimey! Who goes on a date (no wedding rings, I noted) with his i-pod???

The woman didn't seem bothered--maybe she was his sister, and not a date at all...or maybe for reasons of her own, she didn't grasp how ill-mannered that was?

Yesterday, while waiting for a bus, a woman came by--crumbled and dirty, with a little baby in a dinged up old pram. A welfare mum out for the day with her baby boy. The baby was adorable, and a happy little thing--mum seemed tired. I smiled and said hello, lovely baby she had, she sighed and just nodded her head. Then "dad" came along...and I could see why she was unhappy. No shirt, his boxers pulled up three inches over his shorts, also looking like he hadn't had a bath in three weeks, said "gimme a cigaratte," to the girl, and proceeded to ignore her and his son. He expectorated on the pavement, then lit up. And, as the trolley pulled up, butted the queue in front of his girl and baby--almost knocking me down--but I butted him back and got on ahead of the filthy little bastard! He went to the back of the bus, while his wife/girlfriend, babe in arms, manhandled the pram into the trolley.

And I should want to date local men??? NO. THANK. YOU. I respect my genepool too much, to dirty it with neanththals.

Unfortunately, I do make typos, mis-spellings and grammar errors on my blog. I don't like it, but then, it's a personal journal, read only by dozens--at most, a few hundred, of people.

What my blog is not, is an online newspaper serving thousands--or even millions.

Today, our only large circulation daily newspaper based in New York's north country, The Post-Star, did a nice story on a teenager who exibited her dairy cow in an international North American competition (USA/Canada).

What I found shameful, was that the writer of this longish feature article, wrote that the cow was a "heffer." That's such a glaringly bad mistake, that I was ashamed of my local newspaper.

What's worse, is that I have found similar, very, very glaringly bad spelling and grammar errors, in big--and internationally well-known, online papers--the Gurardian, the London Times and The Wall Street Journal. A recent news story in The Guardian, for instance, completely dropped a word, and mis-spelled another. The Times one day, had dropped an entire half of a sentence!

What, online papers don't need to be edited? Well, see it's like this. If I see sloppy writing online, I am hardly going to be disposed to shell out 50 cents or to two dollars, for a hard-copy version of a newspaper, am I?

If newspapers are getting so incredibly lazy about editing online writing---what the hell are they doing with the news?

Meh, who cares what I think? I hate this country sometimes--and sometimes, not.

Sometimes I see so much goodness and kindness...and then I see human beings walking around, acting no better than some dumb animal..and read the hate and bullying, and lies and paranoia that one faction of America, is vomiting out at another...and I really do want to get the hell out of this American sewer, before it starts feeding back on itself and explodes.

Oh, I think a Civil War is inevidable, I'm afraid. The right-wing has gone off its rockers, and, for the last 20 years, it's been taking more and more and more of its actions and behaviours much more from the playbook of Mein Kampf, than from Common Sense or The Rights of Man.

It's hot and sticky, I overslept, my back hurts and I still can't find my phone. I'm not having a good day off, and for once, it's probably just as well that I live alone, as I doubt anyone would want to be around me, today.

And on that cheery note...bye.

America has NO pride---because it feels NO SHAME.

America's conservative right-wing white trash--the meanest, laziest, lowest, dumbest, greediest and most selfish and shallow human beings the United States has ever known---are winning.

Obama is going to backpedal and renig on his promise to 50 million+ GENUINELY suffering and dying Americans, to help them stay alive.

The right wing will go on killing innocent Americans, just so they can selfishly push their narrow, bigoted pollitical, financial and psuedo-Christian agendas.

I almost do hope we have another Civil War, maybe we can get these no-good Nazi slobs out of our damn gene pool, once and for all, and America can truly become a great nation again, instead of the cesspool of humanity.

I spoke to an elderly woman yesterday. She loves cooking. She had to "give up cooking," she said, because she "can't afford it." The woman, who told me she was 70 years old, said that her medicine cost her $1000 a month, and that she'd lost most of her money in the fall of AIG, so she couldn't continue getting her cooking magazines and cook books that she loved so much, because she could "barely afford to buy food" (and pay for her medicine, too).

Stinking right-wing bastards. I hope they eat shit and die, for what they are doing to these people--to me, to grans and sick children, and the disabled and single mums, just trying to survive.

Millions of Americans go hungry when they become ill. That is disgusting, and to me, a form of torture. No one--I mean, no one, in a 21st century industrialised western nation, should EVER have to choose between food and medicine. That's just.....diseased.

Heil Hitler, you right-wing bastards. These people would be better off if you just took your stinking guns you love so much, and just went out and executed them.

Dang if I haven't lost my phone. I didn't use it on Friday--didn't need it, so shut it off and--I thought, put it on my night stand. I was gone pretty much all day today, from just before 10am, until 9.30pm.

I wanted to re-charge my phone...but for the life of me, I cannot find it. I guess I'll have to paw through the dirty laundry hamper Sunday afternoon, and see if I left in in my jeans pocket, instead.

You see, I NEVER get phone calls, generally. I have actually gone weeks--almost a whole month, without a single phone call (I don't count solicitations and nags from Virgin Mobile). I only use the phone occasionally--mostly to ring up the office, a cab, the health centre, etc. So, I really get absent minded about it.

If I wasn't seriously working on moving, I'd go the extra for a landline, again. I HATE mobiles. I appreciate having it, don't get me wrong, but--these days I'm getting seriously absent-minded...early dementia, and I keep forgetting where I put stuff....wallet, mobile--seriously. I'll have an item in my hand one minute, and five minutes later, not have a clue where I put it. Or, I'll walk into a room for something, and five second's later forget what for. It's no laughing or light matter. I live completely alone, so if I lose someting, there's no one to help me look for it. It's gone until I can find it again--which may be minutes, or may be (and has been), days.

It's not something to be taken lightly---it's damned scary. I know lots of people get absent minded. This isn't like that--it's a completely blank slate, genuine short-term memory loss, and quite frankly people, it's scaring the poo out of me, some days.

Ok, this is weird.

I had my Dr Who book, Wetworld, stolen from me this past week. Today, I hurried over to the Lutheran church down the street, to catch the used book sale they were holding, to raise funds for the church. I'd saved some pocket change so I could buy a book or two.

Well---I did get one book, a crime novel called 7,000 Clams--sort of like a 1930's/40's hardboiled detective novel--like Sam Spade and Phillip Marlowe.
The Humprey Bogart type of dectective...well, that's what the novel seemed to be about, anyway. So I snagged it for $1. I had one dollar left, but didn't see anything else--until I went to walk out the door. Some bloke put down a book and walked away, deciding apparently, that he didn't want it.

I glanced at it, and positively boggled.

It was Dr Who, Wet World!

We don't even have a shop that sells Dr Who stuff, around here! The nearest Dr Who merchandise is over 15 miles away, in Saratoga Springs...well, one video store does sell about 10 to 15 Dr Who videos, but that's the limit.

I checked, it wasn't my book--mine had my name written on the inside cover.

That's just...kismet. What are the chances?

I'm very, very happy to have the book back, even though the original copy, meant a lot more to me, 'cos it was a gift from a very dear friend, at a time when...well, let's just say the gift meant a lot to me. Still, I can fill the gap on the bookshelf again, and that really has me so very chuffed. I wuves Dr Who, I do I do I do!

It's hot and steamy here--no, not having an orgy...it's tropical heat, finally making it's way into northeastern New York, after a cool, wet summer.

I've not been home hardly at all today--just to change from my soaking wet shirt--I was so hot, I looked like I just stepped out of a rain shower. Finished the week's shopping after work, and ended up lugging approx. 30 USA pounds of grocercies on my sore back, inside my knapsack (I couldn't carry everything, I had to put some of it in my pack)...along with two full shopping bags, and a 12-pack of diet Orange Crush soda (12 cans for $3, couldn't pass that up). By the time I'd carted everything upstairs, I was just soaking.

I had a nice thing happen though--actually two nice things, but I just mention the one for now. I was having problems getting my kit on the bus, and suddenly, my soda carton broke apart! A lady on the bus rushed to my aid and grabbed my bag, while another lady--both of them it turns out, Walmart workers heading home for the evening--gave me a shopping bag for the soda cans! Wasn't that amazing?

You know, there's so many dole scrounging, dirty and slovenly, deliberately stupid, do-nothing, digusting lowlife's in this city, it's enough to make you think America's gene pool has turned into a cesspool. And then...someone helps you on the bus....or stops and lets you cross the street, or gives you their place in the till line in the supermarket, or simply passes the time of day with you...and I realize, that while the dregs of in-bred humanity dwell here (in some cases very, very literally), there's also still a lot of "normal" people out there, who haven't become so egotistical, shallow and arrogant--not to mention paranoid and slightly bonkers, that they feel comfortable enough to stop and talk to, or even assist, total strangers, and think nothing of it.

The new welfare scoungers downstairs are partying again--every stinking weekend, all they do is sit around blasting the stereo and getting drunk...upstairs, yup, spend the weekend getting drunk...across the hall, down on the other side of the building. Nothing wrong with drinking---but cripes! All the stuff to see and do and experience around here--people come from all over the entire world, to see this place, and that's all they ever want to do, is sit around drinking themselves even more stupid then they are. Most of them either don't work, or don't work any more than they possibly have to. What a waste of human life.

I guess because I've lost so much, and because I've been blessed to venture outside my world a few times, maybe I just appreciate the world, more than someone who's never been anywhere much. I don't know. I one instance they disgust me, and the other, I genuinely feel very sorry for them, for all that they are missing.

But, in a way, they have things that I'm missing: companionship, love, family.

So, I don't know---who is sad and who is fortunate? Maybe it's me that's sad, and them who are normal.

God, I'm so knackered right now. I don't even want to eat any dinner. I had a good breakfast, and some cheese and crackers for lunch, so it's not like I've not eaten today. I think I'll skip dinner tonight, unless I get hungry later. I can always nuke one of the frozen beef and bean chimichangas I bought, in the microwave, later.

Or, I can make myself a bowl of maple and brown sugar instant oatmeal (porrage), later, I suppose. Or, some honey-nut Cheerio's, or some ham with redeye gravy instant grits. Meh--whatever.

After I put the shopping away, and washed and changed, I grabbed a book--reading The Citadel, which I've not read in something like 30 years, and went to Lake George on the trolley bus. I sat by the lake on the boat dock, right on the water's edge, reading, and watching dusk falling over the lake and the seemingly endless mountains that frame the three sides, for it's 27 mile length.

In the dusk, I could see the dazzling lights of the big tour boats, out on the lake--they were all out...the Adirondac, the Mohican, the paddlewheeler steamboat Minne-ha-ha, and the largest boat, the Lac Du Saint Sacrement. The paddlewheeler and the bigest boat, came into dock as I was sitting there. That's pretty interesting to watch--especially the big boat. The hands on the ground watch the boat coming in like a hawk--which is pretty impressive, cos't those boats are coming and going all day and night--from 10am to 11pm, 7 days a week, in the summer months. You'd think they'd get bored or lackidasical having to do that every day, but no, they seemed quite keen about their jobs.

There were small pleasure boats--mostly small motor boats, bobbing on the darkening waters, t heir green and white and blue lights, bobbing like little stars, above the water.

The ducks were out in large numbers, the drakes constantly nagging their ladies and the kids following behind, to keep together and pay attention to where they were going

Speaking of beigng nagged, Flame is sitting on the bookcase near my desk, nagging me about something. She doesn't like being hot...or, she wants to be fed her tinned food an hour early tonight. She's very impatient, sometimes. Kids, what ya' gonna' do with them?

That bloated ugly-souled arrogant narrow-minded white prig, Utah Senator Orrin Hatch, is doing his best to stop nationalized medicine, that would save MILLIONS of American lives over the next few decades.

The man from the "Christian" state of Utah, says that spending trillions of dollars in a recession--which is almost over, by the way, is wrong.

I see.

Let me wrap my head around this.

Spending a trillion dollars on a war that had butchered 10,000+ innocent civiilians, who posed no threat whatsoever to America's democracy, a war Hatch vociferiously supprorted, is good.

Spending a trillion dollars over the next 10 years, to save FIFTY MILLION American lives, is bad.

If there was a Jesus, what would Jesus do?

He's send the wealthy, well-fed, well-housed and well-cared-for, inhumane, ignorant greedy pigs like Hatch and the rest of his ilk, straight down to the proverbial eternal fires of Hell where they belong.

Hitler consistantly and repeatedly shouted negatives, continuly lying and misdirecting the German people, so that he could have his own way, and slughter millions of Jews and Gypsy's and liberal thinkers. Republicans lie and mis-direct so that 50 million underinsured and uninsured Americans can continue to suffer needlessly and die.

Riight. Who's the terrorist and who's the patriot?

Again--someone please get me the hell out of this grasping, selfish, stupid, mean-spirited, bullying and violence-loving nation.

Look at that poo-faced white trash arrogant prat, and tell me he's a good man...I won't believe you.

A day or two ago, I wrote a caption for Roasting David Tennant, wherein the actor was on the panel at comic con, with his head thrown back in an apparent grimace (in reality he was laughing).

I used the photo to write that the actor's Star Wars thong was chafing him just a wee bit. The caption was that Tennant had an "uncomfortable experience" while at the convention.

OK, not high humour, or even a good caption, but...meh, I was having a painful, nausea-inducing health issue, at the time.

Anyway, some California girl wrote a comment on the post, in a bit of a huff, telling me that Tennant did, in fact have a good time at the convention.

And....?

Seriously, how would she know he had a good time? Considering this girl doesn't know the man personally, I think she's being a bit presumptuious...for all we know, once he was away from public eyes, Tennant could have been a drama king and spent the whole trip whinging about the hot weather, the stupid Yanks and the that his bottles of Evian water weren't cold enough. (I'm not saying that he did, so shut up fan-girls.)

Whether the man had a lovely time or spent the whole trip being an old misery-gut....I don't care. Really, no. While of course I want to see anyone enjoying him or herself, it's seriously none of my damn business whether some actor had a good time at a convention or a lousy one.

What gets me, is that I have posted in plain sight right on my blog header, that Roasting David is FAKE. I understand that some of these young David Tennant fans have utterly lost their sense of humour--I don't know what happened to it. They should contact lost and found to see if anyone has turned it in.

Not to belabour the point, but my cat Flame has a better developed sense of humour than a few of these fan girls!

Not all of them, mind you! But yeah, obviously there's a few.

I'm tired as hell, I'm in mild but constant pain (thank god for the pain pill), and I'm also WIDE AWAKE. I've had 2 1/2 hours sleep and have to wake at 8am. Life sucks and then you die.

This is one really cranky old maid, right now.

I'm not talking about the pizza--I'm talking about the stinking delivery drivers.

This city is exceptionally noisy tonight--tons of drunks out there. At 10pm, a drink driver went down the street, wildly hooting his horn while weaving along the solid yellow line. The cops are going to be really busy, tonight. The uptight republicans the rule Warren County take a very dim view of drink drivers, and rowdy drinkers....which isn't entirely a bad thing, except a few of their officers are decidedly more butch than professional, and sometimes treat everyone like rowdy drunks, regardless of whether the people the cop is confronting are criminals, victims or completely innocent parties.

Anyway, I finally got to sleep, with the help of a pain pill, around 11pm. I was sleeping for 2 1/2 hours, when I was woken by someone knocking on my door. I'm like, "What the hell?"

I get up, but some pyjama bottoms on, and...it's the stinking domino's delivery guy....looking for some other apartment, in another part of the building. Who the eff orders pizza at 1:30am? Obviously someone who can afford to stay up all stinking night.

This is the second post-midnight wakening by a Domino's guy, getting the apartment number wrong.

Stinking Dominos.

Now to add to my being unable to get back to sleep, the stinking neighbour came home drunk--judging by the clatter and swearing, I'd say he...or his nephew or whomever, fell down the wooden hallway stairs. Now they are blasting their TV set and yelling at each other.

The one night I DESPERATELY need a good night's sleep. I'm sore, I'm tired and I just want to stinking SLEEP? Is that too much to ask? How can I belive in God, when there's so many assholes being allowed to exist in the world?

In a bizzare news story out of New Jersey, police got a report of a white man wandering around a low-income neighbourhood.

The man, neatly dressed in a blue jacket, was confronted by a 20-something female police officer, who asked the man what he was doing there. He explained that he was just stretching his legs before going to work that night.

Another officer, a man also in his 20's, arrived. Neither recognized the name the man gave them, so they asked the wandering soul out taking the air, for his ID.

He said he didn't have any on him, didn't think he needed it, just to go for a walk. The two officers then piled the man--who was said to be polite and cooperative--into their police car, and went to the beach resort hotel where the man was staying.

Hotel staff then vouched for the man, and said he and two of his friends were working at a big concert, that night.

The two friends were Willie Nelson and John Mellancamp.

The wandering soul was....Bob Dylan.

I was sent some clipping about David Tennant by Tardisgurl (along with yet another one of her little meme's...which I'll save for some other day, cos' I've done something excessively rare for me, and taken a strong pain pill, and sleepy time is on it's way).

Yeah, this clipping is from new lad mag in Scotland, from what I gather. It says that Tennant can "get any girl he wants."

Pfft.

Well, I guess that leaves me out of the running and back in the stable, munching on my oats. He's a lovely actor, and, his public self seems like a nice bloke--tho' I've no idea what he's like in private, of course. But...sorry, I just do not see the physical attraction. He looks so...ordinary, to me.

He might get any girl he wants, but as the man seems to lean towards younger, thin, beautiful women, and I'm definately more the point and laugh type, for trendy skinny blokes like him, I don't think I'd even merit a handshake from the gent.

Yeah, any girl he wants---thousands of gay men are weeping into their drinks, reading that. Actually, wouldn't that whole "any girl" thing, pose a problem, if Tennant was actually gay? Thousands of "fans" seem to think he is, apparently--judging by the search terms cropping up on my widget, on my Roasting David blog. As far as I can tell, he seems very heterosexual to me. But...who cares? He could be a tutu wearing transexual eunich with a leather and whip fetish, and I could give a flying fig.

Did I just write that? Wow, must be the pain killers...I hope.

playwrite27 had to leave work early...no choice, my back pain was making it impossible for me to concentrate on my job. I kept having to get up and walk around, once an hour--and got yelled at for it, so I said sod it. I was there in the seat on time, trying really hard to do my job in quite intense pain, at times, and I'm getting bitched at like I'm being lazy--no, I'm weak, tired and hurting. Would they rather I not be there at all? At least I've made a genuine effort to get back to work.

I was doing what was required of me, and trying to remain upbeat about it, even tho' I was doubled over, at times (riding my bike home was no picnic, either--but it hurts just as much to walk as to ride, so might as well ride)...so I left 2 hours early. I may lose my job for excessive absences, despite doing my best to make up some hours this morning (I'm normally scheduled nights on Fridays).

I didn't say anything before, and I won't go into details (cos' it's in the TMI category), but I didn't have the stomach flu as I suspected, it was something else. Not serious, but more serious than just a stomach bug. I went to the druggist's last night and got meds for it, and I'll be fine (or so I was told) in a few days. I was actually told off working for a few days, but I refused--I can't! I really just simply cannot take a week off, no way. I still owe a small amount on my electric/gas bill...and it HAS to be paid on time. If it isn't, at best the bill will go up (it's already over $200 a month), at worst I'll get a shut off notice.

I'm not going to have a fun couple of week's. After I made another payment to National Grid (I often sort of pay the bill at the supermarket electronically, in installments from each pay check, over a period of two or three weeks--$75 to $100 out of each check), I did some shopping today--buying necessary items, like kiitty litter/cat food, deodarant, bin bags, etc.--and now only have $12 left.

Next week, my pay check will be under $100 dollars from being out sick, and after I make that NG payment, I may only have $10 or $15 dollars left over, maybe $20, if my adding is wonky. The next two week's are really going to be tight. But then, three weeks from now, I'll have (if I do a full week's work and don't get the sack), after bills and squirrelling some away (LOL), I'll have, by my calculations, about $40 left over for our big Labor Day holiday weekend, so that will be grand.

_______________________________________________________________________________

When I went to Lake George yesterday, while waiting for the trolley bus, I did some window shopping--wow, this one shop had some wonderful skirts--long, colourful hand-dyed cotton skirts from India, on sale for $18 each or 2 for $30. Way, way out of my price range, and they probably wouldn't have my size, even if I had the money, but I do love window shopping. You find the neatest things. Things I'd probably not buy even if I could afford them, I might add.

But it's fun looking. Lake George being sort of like the Blackpool or Coney Island of upstate New York, there's hundreds of little shops to browse in, with an unbelivable ecclectic assortment of stuff--from gorgeous (and artisticly done) rustic furnishings, paintings and prints, clothing of every kind and description--from gitchy tourism and novelty tee shirts to real Irish jumpers and tartans, to outdoor wear, to the latest trendy fashions--there's jewelry, home furnishings, garden kitch, and of course, all the usual touristy clap trap--from real swords to coffee mugs, crystals, windchimes, novelty boxer shorts (actually a very popular item, this year), post cards, whoopie cushions, wooden trinket boxes, magnets, hats, whiskey glasses, magic stuff, toys, you name it.

From exquisite treasures to just plain junk, and everything in-between. And, there's loads of restaurants and pubs, as well. There's a new kebab house in Lake George. Warren County has never had one until this year. I looked at their menu last night--expensive! $8.95 for a lamb donar kebab! Called a "gyro" in the USA, it's normally a round pita bread, folded over and stuffed with mystery meat, onions, green pepper and tomatos and cucumber sauce. This one looked different (going by the pic in the menu)--it was long and thin, and wrapped all the way around. Looked kind of yummy. But...too expensive!

Blimey! They wanted $22.95 for a chicken curry! Jeez, it costs me around $7 or $8 to make a butter chicken curry with rice and a veggie. That must be one helluva curry! Ali Baba's Mediterrainian resturant didn't seem to be doing much business--and I can see why. Who can afford it?

Lake George has pizzirias and Italian joints galore, a Polish restaurant, Mexican, an Irish-themed resturant, a new Indian resturant, seafood/lobster, pancakes, steakhouses, BBQ joints, Chinese takeaway, McDonalds, Quizno's subs, sandwich cafes, a waffle house...the town is just chock a block with eateries. Strangely, McDonalds and Quiznos are the ONLY national fast food chains in the village, though. Maybe cos' the village (mostly) shuts tight, the the Tuesday after the first weekend of Sept., I don't know. Most of the major chain resturants and takeaways are in the sprawling suburban town between my city and Lake George.

Ironically, I used to not give a damn about clothing, seriously, I didn't have a clue about fashions and didn't want to, either--now, I'm like a kid with her nose pressed up to the window of the toy shop. Don't know what the hell changed me. Truth to tell, it baffles me a bit, sometimes. Maybe the loss in weight making more fashions accessable for me (The Fashion Nazis have a real bigotry and hate for the overweight). Wish mum was still around though, that probably would have made her very happy...she loved me, and accepted me as I was, but deep down, I think she was never all that thrilled with having a tomboy for a daughter.

Well, I'm really hurting, so I think a lie down is in order...but first I have to get some dinner. I'm not up to cooking anything posh tonight. I was going to have a mini ham steak with some broccolli and cheddar rice, but think I'll just throw some frozen stuff in the oven....BBQ flavour buffalo wings and some McCain's waffle-cut seasoned fries (chips), maybe nuke some sweet corn in the microwave, to go with it. Easy-peasy.

A couple of days ago, I posted about someone sending me Dr Who spoilers, and me deleting the article, and my thoughts on Dr Who spoilers---mainly that that I don't like spoilers, and don't like people who push spoilers on unsuspecting fans without warning them first (so we anti-spoilers folks can avoid having our day ruined by some over-enthusiastic and thoughtless git, masquerading as a "fan").

So, this website, TV Spoilers or something like that, picked up and posted my meaningless little carp on my blog...and now everyone is clicking on the link, thinking they are going to find some juicy tid-bit---when all they're getting is me ranting about people like them!

How daft is that? Don't these people who post links to blogs on their websites, even bother to READ the post, first?

All they saw was the word, "spoiler" and off they went...but there's NO spoiler in the post! So...why the hell did they bother?

I mean, it's fine. If a pro-spoiler website wants to link to an anti-spoiler post, fine. Just seems really daft, to me.

Well, blog boys and girls, I'm back off to work again today...five more hours of complicated computer work that I my learning disabled brain can barely do, while dealing on the phone with miserable--and occasionally irrational-- people and their dodgy mortgages. See you all on the flip side, after 10pm EST. Cheers! playwrite27

That stupid twit from Alaska, Sarah Palin, dispite being proven that she's LYING, is still twittering that the US health care bill includes legislation that will dictate how old people should die.

The woman claims to be a devout born-again right-wing Christian, but...didn't Jesus WANT Christians to HELP the sick and the poor?

Again, I'm sooo--glad that I choose last year to become agnostic! Freaking hypocritical American Jesus freaks. (not that I'm against Jesus, or organized religion--I'm against lying hypocrites who use Jesus as a power/ego trip or cosmic slot machine or a political tool.)

Why we need NHS: Because Americans suffer. Americans die. Americans go hungry trying to choose between food and medicine. Americans become homeless--punishment for becoming catestrophically ill.

Office visit: $100
Electrocardiogram: $65
Office visit: $137.00
OAP Discharge Management (no clue what that is): $99

That's just for the month of JUNE.

I owe $92 with Medicare. Without Medicare, I'd be responsible for the entire bill.

THIS DOES NOT INCLUDE THE HOSPITAL BILLS FOR MY ER VISIT AND OVERNIGHT STAY IN JUNE'S HEART ATTACK SCARE. That bill was around $2000

NOR does it include the cost of medicine, OR the cost to me of lost time at work (no sick pay again), OR the cost to me in cab fare to get home, OR the cost of going on a special diet for two weeks--because "healthy" food is TWICE as EXPENSIVE as "normal" food.

I work just above minimum wage. My income is at the high end of the national poverty line for single women. I have no benefits through my job--no sick pay, no holiday pay, no insurance, NOTHING but a pay check each Friday. I get food stamps (vouchers) for about 2 week's worth of food--three weeks if sales are good, and, if I am really, really frugal. The rest of the month I buy it all out of my own pocket.

It takes me two to three week's pay, just to pay my electric/gas bill every month, and approx. half a week's pay goes for my cable bill.

My social security pays my rent, some medical expenses--sometimes I try to save some for emergencies, but often--as with many of America's poor, the emergencies happen with unfortunate regularlarity, so saving is pretty much a wasted effort, most of the time.

Sometimes, If I'm extra frugal, and buy all my toiletries, bin bags, etc., at the one-dollar shop--or do without some things altogether (like makeup), I have a bit leftover for clothes for the office--working in an office is hard when you are poor, because looking 'nice' is like eating healthy...EXPENSIVE. Even shopping at consignment shops and using layaway, it's tough. I have to be an advid bargain hunter, and often have to wait weeks--or even months, to get something I need/want...if I can get it at all.

I worked two hours this morning, to make up a little lost time. I have to go back to work at 5pm, then get up and do it all over again on Saturday, all day, 10 to 5. Bleh.

While I'm feeling better with my internal stuff, I've developed a bit of a backache, and am still weak and wrung out from being sick. It's hot, I'm tired and I hurt.

I just got a bill from my health center, for $92 in co-pays that I owe. I just missed the trolley bus--which I need to catch in order to cash my pay check, and make another payment on my electric/gas bill...which will leave me with exactly $31.00 left for the next six days. That's going to be fun--not. I had a scheduling snafu last week, that shorted me 4 hour's pay. This week, I've lost almost 2 whole day's pay, so next week, after I make the last payment on this month's National Grid bill, I'll be lucky if I have even $10 left...which means no laundry, or bin bags or any other "luxuries," other than cat food.

I miss my moblie home, sometimes. My little postage-stamp sized "lawn" around my mobile home lot was 80% sand--as in sand, sand....and rocks, lots of rocks, as well. It may have been in the mountains, but it more resembled a beach. The sand wasn't all a bad thing, though. I dug a pit and instaled a square wooden rim and made my own horseshoe pitch. It took me all of about 10 or 15 minutes to mow the grass on my "lawn." Before winter came, I'd fill a few big buckets with sand from my yard, then store them in the coat closet for use on top of icy steps...and, those times when a big expense came along and money was tight, I could use the sand as a substitute for kitty litter--which can be rather expensive, in a small rural grocery store.

Well, as soon as another trolley or bus goes by, heading south, I'll head downstairs and catch it when it comes back north past my building.

Hope you lot are having a better day than me.

I just got e-mailed a book meme, so here goes:

1. How many books do you own?

Not sure, somewhere between 150 and 175.

2. Last book purchase, and how much did you pay?

Bought a used copy of Thomas Costain's The Darkness and the Dawn, for $1.

3. Last book you've read?

See above.

4. What books have you red so far this month?

Costain's book, The Palace of the Dragon King by Laura Joh Rowley, Dr Who Sting of the Zygons, Six Bits a Day by Elmer Kelton, A Woman of No Importance by Oscar Wilde and Dr Who Wet World.

5. Five books that mean a lot to you:

Oooh, that's tough. I wuves my books, I do.

The Walking Drum by Louis L'Amour
My late dad's copy of Robinson Caruso (sorry, brain not working today, can't remember how to spell that name), illustrated by N.C. Wyeth, that he'd had as a child
(Excerpts only) a thin hardback Hallmark book, Essays by Ralph Waldo Emerson
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
Man on Horseback

6. Books you no longer have (lost, sold, damaged, given away, stolen) that you wish you still had in your possession:

Gosh, I've lost a lot of books over the years!

My collection of horse stories I'd accumulated as a child. I'd given them away to charity, and now in my "old age," I wish I hadn't. I gave a friend a copy of Poems from the Persian--but as much as I loved that book, I don't really regret not having it any more, as my friend really liked it.

Books lost to theft that I wish I still had: 1814 multi-volume set of British Poets, Dr Who Wet World (stolen this week while I was in the middle of re-reading it), Thunderhead by Mary O'hara...one of my last remaining childhood horse stories was stolen while at was at the laundromat back in 2006. Likewise my 1930's hardcover copy of Oliver Twist that same year. Also at the laundromat last year, someone swiped my newly purchased paperback of a Westlake crime novel. (Which is why I rarely take books to the laundromat with me, any longer.) And my treasued collection of the Dr Who Timewyrm novels, and a Louis L'Amour book all were among things stolen from me, back when I was very briefly homeless in 1995. Although a dear friend in Scotland thoughtfully and wonderfully replaced it, I regret losing my oringal copy in 2006, of Guide to North American Wildlife, that I'd had and treasured since I was in Elementary school.

Damaged books: During a spring thaw one year, the 3 inch thick accumulation of ice on the roof over my room began to rapidly melt, causing the roof to partly collapse--right over one of my bookcases, the resulting flood of water rendered them unreadable, and they had to be tossed. Among them was an 1850's copy of Daniel Boone, 12 original (with dust jackets) mystery novels from the 1920's and 30's, My BBC book, The Age of Kings, literally wore out and fell apart a few years back.

I was sitting here watching videos (Dr Who Midnight, School of Rock), minding my own business, just chillin' before bedtime--when out in our hallway outside my apartment door, a massive cat fight broke out. Britney and Paris were fighting over who was dumber. It was a tie.

No, but really, it was a real cat fight...two black cats--one was from next door. I don't know who the other black cat belongs to. I chased one downstairs and the other ran and hid behind some furniture in the upstairs hall (my next door neighbours use the hallways to store they excess furnishings and other stuff, as well as using the stair rails as a drying rack for their sheets and towels....like I said, real classy building I live in.

Anyway, the black cat, other than having a deep scratch in it's back, seemed OK, but was really scared.

I mean REALLY scared. I smelled poo. The wee black cat was so scared she shat herself. As I went to go into my door--there were little nasty cat poos scattered all over the hallway--in front of my apartment door. Damn. How I avoided stepping in them as I came rushing out the door...well, if I believed in luck, I'd say it was on my side, tonight.

Dang, I hope they clean it up. I'm not doing it! I've got three to clean up after every day as it is, now!

Well, at least I didn't get any fresh cat poo on me, that's somethng, I suppose.

I had to call in sick to work again, this morning. Like yesterday, I was all dressed and ready to go, but my stomach had other plans.

However, my fever's practically gone, and I'm going to call up work in a bit--after I try to see if I can hold some food down...I've hardly eaten much of anything in three days, and I'm afraid I'm feeling it a bit. I'm out of test strips, so I can't test my blood sugar.

The test strips aren't all covered by my govt. health insurance, and currently run me about $22 co-pay--and, $6 cab fare round trip, to go to my druggist's and back...which I can't do, as my net worth is presently $19.00

Not that I'm knocking having $19 left at the end of the week. More times than I can begin to count, these last few years, I had nothing left by Monday or Tuesday, after paying for bills, laundromat, cab/bus fare, groceries, etc. over the weekend. I mean, very literally, hardly even 10 cents to my name. So, having $19 to spare, the day before pay day, is, in reality, doing really quite well, for me. Hell, even having $3 or $5 to spare on the day before pay day, will make me plenty chuffed, let me tell you.

I still don't feel great-but I've gone to work feeling a lot worse, and, my budget can't handle losing two day's pay--even one day's pay, is going to hurt me sorely.

It's hot but with a pleasant breeze. The cats are hot. Flamey is quite put out with the heat...she's never happy. She doesn't like being cold, she doesn't like being hot, she doesn't like the food she liked last week---such a feline drama queen I've raised!

I'm virtually out of cold drinks, so I'll have to stop at the shop down the road and pick up somethng, I suppose. I am so not a hot weather person...and I try to remind myself that, when we're smack in the middle of 5 months of winter, with a couple of feet of show piled around the doorstep, and temps hovering around -22 C.

I know personally of several WOMEN who have been driven off of BCUK by trolls and online stalkers.

BCUK, which is run mostly by males, has firmly asserted that--even if the offense is reported to bcuk via e-mail---that, unless the troll or stalker is registered with bcuk, they will sit on their collective bottoms and DO NOTHING. Even if the person is endagering the bloggers health, even if this person is physically threatening the female bcuk blogger, bcuk will do NOTHING.

Ironically--and hypocritically, if the person is an off-site spammer, spamming multiple blogs trying to sell something or push a website, bcuk will be more than happy to block this person's IP address.

So beware, female bcuk bloggers. If you are being attacked by someone off-site, bcuk won't be noble and courageous and come to your rescue. They won't care if this off-site person if threatening you, or making you sick from the emotional trama they inflict. Bcuk will sit in front of their computers, swilling beer and scratching their crotches, or whatever men do. They just plain don't care.

One local county is having a "mental health awareness week."

There is no shame in being mentally ill--even though there is a stigma attached to it, in some countries, such as the United States. Mental illness is just that: a legitimate illness. It has several causes, ranging from a chemical imbalance in the brain, to brain trama, to emotional trama.

The person with a mental or emotional disorder is not at fault. They are not "in control" of their actions. They cannot always prevent their actions/reactions, no more than a sick person can be held repsonsible for the germs they harbour in their body.

However, when the mentally or emotionally ill person doesn't get treatment, the consequences can vary from the person having a much more difficult time than necessary, to them harming themselves--or just as bad, them harming someone else, either emotionally or physically.

Here are some symptoms of a few mental/emotional disorders:

Anxiety Disorders

Anxiety disorders cause people to feel anxious most of the time, making some everyday situations so uncomfortable that they may avoid them entirely. Or, people may experience occasional instances of anxiety that are so terrifying and intense that they may cause the person to feel immobilized. Often, symptoms of depression accompany anxiety disorders.

Generalized anxiety disorder
Generalized anxiety disorder is characterized by at least six months of persistent and excessive anxiety and worry about a number of events and activities. People who have it also experience at least some of the following:

Inability to relax
Inability to fall asleep or stay asleep
Trembling or irritability
Twitching or muscle tension
Headaches
Sweating or hot flashes
Lightheadedness or breathlessness
Nausea
Going to the bathroom frequently
Fatigue or lack of concentration
Panic disorder
Panic disorders exist when someone has persistent panic attacks, which are feelings of terror that strike suddenly and without warning and build to a peak within about ten minutes. Although, in some cases, they may last for as long as an hour. In addition, the person develops intense concern between attacks, worrying about when another one will occur. Symptoms of a panic attack may include:

Sweating
Trembling or shaking
Shortness of breath or a feeling of choking or smothering
Chest pain or discomfort
Nausea or abdominal distress
Dizziness or lightheadedness
Sense of unreality
Fear of losing control or "going crazy"
Fear of dying
Chills or hot flashes
Tingling in the hands
Pounding heart

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD)

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or OCD, causes people to have intrusive, unwanted thoughts or obsessions that last more than one hour a day or cause them to become distressed. Even though people who have them recognize that these obsessions or compulsions are unreasonable, they are unable to stop them.

Obsessions are persistent ideas, thoughts, impulses or images that are experienced as intrusive and inappropriate and that cause marked anxiety or distress.

Compulsions are repetitive behaviors, such as hand washing or checking, or mental acts, such as praying or counting. The goal of these behaviors or acts is to reduce anxiety or distress, rather than to provide pleasure or gratification.

In most cases, the person feels driven to perform the compulsion in order to reduce the distress that accompanies an obsession or to prevent some dreaded event or situation.

Because people with OCD realize that their thoughts and behaviors are unreasonable, they may fear that people will think they are crazy or silly and try to hide their problem.

______________________________________________________________

Mood Disorders

Bipolar disorder
Also known as manic depression, bipolar disorder is a mental illness involving episodes of extreme highs (mania or hypomania) and lows (depression). In most cases, the person's mood swings from excessively high or euphoric and/or irritable to sad and hopeless and then back again with periods of normal mood in between.

Sometimes, however, a person experiences both states at the same time (mixed episodes). At least 2 million Americans have bipolar disorder, which is considered one of the most treatable mental illnesses.

Mania can last up to four months if untreated. The symptoms of mania include:

increased energy, activity, restlessness, racing thoughts and rapid talking;
denial that anything is wrong, excessive high or euphoric feelings;
extreme irritability and distraction;
decreased need for sleep;
unrealistic beliefs in one's ability and powers;
uncharacteristically poor judgment;
unusual sexual drive;
abuse of drugs, particularly cocaine, alcohol and sleep medications; and
provocative, intrusive or aggressive behavior.

Depression

Symptoms of depression include:
persistent sadness, anxiety or emptiness;
feelings of hopelessness or pessimism;
feelings of guilt, worthlessness or helplessness;
loss of interest or pleasure in usually enjoyed activities, including sex;
decreased energy, a feeling of fatigue or of being slowed down;
difficulty concentrating, remembering or making decisions;
restlessness or irritability;
sleep disturbances;
loss of appetite and weight, or weight gain;
chronic pain or other persistent bodily symptoms that are not caused by a physical disease; and thoughts of and attempts at suicide

Severe Clinical Depression

More than 17 million Americans suffer from severe clinical depression.

Symptoms include:

a persistent sad, anxious or empty mood;
sleeping too little or too much;
reduced appetite and weight loss, or increase appetite and weight gain;
loss of interest or pleasure in activities once enjoyed;
restlessness or irritability (in children or adolescents this may be perceived as "acting out");
persistent physical symptoms that don't respond to treatment (such as headaches, chronic pain or constipation and digestive disorders);
difficulty concentrating, remembering or making decisions;
fatigue or loss of energy;
feeling guilty, hopeless or worthless; and thoughts of death or suicide.

______________________________________________________________

Personality Disorders

Schizotypal Personality Disorder

People with Schizotypal Personality Disorder are uncomfortable around others and have difficulty forming relationships. Their behavior, including the way they talk, dress or think about the world around them, is often odd or eccentric. They also may react inappropriately or not at all during conversations, or display signs of "magical thinking," such as saying they can see into the future or read other people's minds.

Antisocial Personality Disorder

People with Antisocial Personality Disorder consistently disregard, or even violate, the rights of others. They tend to act out their conflicts and ignore normal rules of behavior and are deceitful and manipulative.

Frequently, they are also impulsive, irresponsible and callous, lie repeatedly and use an alias or con others. This disorder has also been called psychopathy, sociopathy or dissocial personality disorder.

Narcissistic Personality Disorder

People with Narcissistic Personality Disorder have an exaggerated sense of their own importance. They constantly seek admiration from others but have little empathy and tend to exploit their personal relationships. They also believe they are superior to others and are preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty or ideal love.

Histrionic Personality Disorder

People with Histrionic Personality Disorder are very emotional, feel uncomfortable or unappreciated when they are not the center of attention and may do something dramatic to draw attention to themselves. They use physical appearance to draw attention to themselves and often dress inappropriately, provocatively or seductively. They often are dramatic and theatrical, display rapidly shifting and shallow emotions and are easily influenced by others or the circumstances of the moment. Often, too, people with this disorder consider relationships to be more intimate than they really are.

These are just a few of the various disorders that can affect people. For more information, visit:

The International Society for Mental Health Online

http://www.ismho.org/home.asp

And...

Psychiatrists, Psychologists, Other Therapists Answer Your Questions Online:

http://www.justanswer.com/health/psychiatry?r=ppc|ga|1|Health|Psychiatry&JCRN=Psychiatrists&JPKW=online%20mental%20health&JPDC=S&JPST=&JPAD=2234276823&JPAF=txt&JPCD=20090506&JPRC=1&JPOP=Omar_DisplayURL1_New&gclid=CIqKk7jen5wCFQtN5QodWyDocw

Plus, in the UK....

http://www.bbc.co.uk/health/mental

And....

http://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/

Another centipede in my apartment--this time in my lounge. I couldn't get it. It crawled under the old TV set that sits on my lounge floor (too heavy for me to cart down two flights of stairs to the bin).

The cats almost got it--I think that would be bad, but really, I dont' know what a centipede bite would do, to a cat. They are venimous...like bee stings.

God! I HATE bugs!!!

I'm overrun with spiders, baby moths, a few flies (from the bins stored beneath my balcony window), now centipedes. No ants or roaches, thank god for small favours.

Sometimes my medicine gives me strange and vivid dreams. Last night was no exception.

At one point, I dreamed that someone had sat on my bed, and was pressing down on my hips and stomach. If felt so real, that I woke up floundering my hands around. At first, I thought the cat had curled up on me, and it somehow had tranferred into my dreams--but no cats were on my bed. That was a disturbing dream...I went back to sleep, and had some more vivid dreams. I've long since forgotten what they were.

I ususally don't dream of physical contact, I guess that's what made that stand out to me. It was probably my stomach ailment creeping up on me.

This is about the place my late mum went to, in the last five years of her life--three times a week, for three or four hours, every week.

Dialysis is not pleasant--the treatment means being stuck with needles, and having the toxins in your body that your kidneys would normally process, removed manually by machine, instead. The blood/fluids go into the machine, get filtered, and then get pumped back into you again.

You have to have a stint put in--in mum's case, due to complications, it was in her upper chest...if you look closely at the photo (click to make bigger), you can see the stint just peeping over the top of her dress, on the left side. The photo was taken in May of 2003, on my college gradutation day. Mum passed away in Nov. of 2005.

The treatment often left mum very weak and sometimes a bit queasy in the stomach, afterwards. Still, mum soldiered on, insisting, on Saturdays, on doing our grocery shopping with me, in her wheelchair, or asking me to take her 'round to garage (boot) sales, or other places. She had to get up at 5am, to be at the centre by 7am.

In winter, on weekdays when I was in school, a free mediride van, equipped for wheelchairs, would take her to treatment. On Saturdays, and usually in the summer holiday months--again, if I wasn't in school--I'd get take her over the mountain--snow, rain or shine, to the city for treatment. I usually had to get up around 4.30 or 5.00 am to help her get ready...helping her bathe, making her coffee or tea, and breakfast--if I could get her to eat--kidney failure effects the appetite and causes patients to not want to eat, at times, getting her meds, getting her clothes out of the closet for her, etc. This was especially true as she became more in, in the last year of her life.

The local dialysis center was wonderful! Mum was poor, and the social worker there often liasoned for her, with state and government agencies--and even the National Kidney Foundation, to get her the care she needed. After dad died, some snafu with his social security, meant that she lost a chunk of her state/federal health care insurance. Thank God I had money at that time...I spent some 5,000 dollars on her care for less than 30 days, before the worker at the dialysis center sorted everything and got mum's health care back.

I don't know what we would have done, if I hadn't inhereted a small amount of money from my dad. Possibly mum may have died. The dialysis machine alone--JUST the machine, cost $300.00 a visit--that's $100.00 an hour, or NINE HUNDRED dollars a WEEK, just for the use of the machine--didn't count all the other things that were needed, just the blinking machine.

And you wonder why I genuinely loathe Americans who are protesting socialized medicine? What about all those who fall between the cracks--the cracks meaning those not poor enough to qualify for govt. assistance, and not well off enough to pay for adequate private health insurance. What happens to them? Well, truth to tell, is that unless someone intervenes, they suffer, and they DIE. Just as EVERYONE would have, 75 years ago, before the existance of dialysis and Medicare. See? Health care in the USA, really is about the have's and the have-nots!

The nurses and other staff at our local center were, by and large, wonderful people. Mum made many friends of the other patients while there--one of them used to bring her fresh eggs every week, from his own chickens--she even got invited to their homes several times, though mum was often too weak to stay for long. One of her nurses even invited the two of us to see her newly decorated home, one time. Lovely people, and very generous and caring. These dedicated people put the patients and their families first. They worked long hours, and often had to endure the deaths of people they'd come to consider their friends.

Here is a great article in the local newspaper, on the center:

http://www.poststar.com/articles/2009/08/12/news/local/doc4a8223a7c8477409139784.txt

I woke up fully intending to go into work today, but my body had other ideas. About 20 minutes ago, I started getting severe stomach cramps, then I got the runs again, and felt flushed. Took my temp--and it's 101!

That's not good. Jeez, I was having stomach problems all day yesterday, but other than some brief dizziness, and not wanting to eat, I didn't feel too terribly ill--in fact, I felt better as the evening went on. I just chalked how I was feeling yesterday, up to either the heat, or the Metformin's side effects.

Guess not. I must have a stomach bug. Damn. I don't want to miss a day's pay.

But...I abruptly find that I can't stand upright with the stomach cramps, so I'm in no shape to pedal or walk to work, this morning. Wow, those cramps are bad, too. As I write this I'm bent practically double! Ow.

I tried to drink some water (bleh, our tap water sucks, really does taste like dirt), and now am going back to bed for a bit. If the cramps or fever worsens, I'll have to bite the bullet and go to the health center later. Damn. There's 26 dollars I rather not spend.

One of the most amazing natural sights I've ever been witness to, was the Persid meteor shower.

When I was 19, I sat, 7000 feet up in the Rocky Mountains one summer night, next to Old Faithful geysir in the wilds of Wyoming, and watched--and heard, a light show whizzing by over my head.

Streaks of light flew over my head, with a deep-throated "Whoosh" sound.

It was a night I will never, ever forget.

Tonight, if you have clear skies, away from light pollution, try to make a point to see this light show.

I'm going to go to Lake George--or I may sit out on my balcony and hope for a bit of a show, and watch one of the true wonders of the natural world, hurling by over my head. I hope that you, too, will be able to enjoy and appreciate the magic.

playwrite27 bids you a good day.

Well, good for you, I hope. I have to go back to work, today. 9am sharp. Which would be fine--except the mangy woman next door, was in the hall right within six inches (or so it sounded) from my bedroom wall, yelling at the top of her too-ample lungs, at her cat...at 5:45am this morning.

Well, madame foghorn woke me up--all over...couldn't get back to sleep.

It's cooler this morning, thankfully. It's about 7am, and the bin men are out there hauling away the building's rubbish. I couldn't place my rubbish in the bin, 'cos the neighbours across the hall have stuffed it full to brimming with their own trash. There's only supposed to be two of them living in there-but I think there's five or six of them, now. In a tiny two-room apartment...with two cats and a mean cancerous old dog.

Thought I'd make myself a decent breakfast, and relax a bit before getting ready for work. I have to feed the cats, they're getting a bit restless. I took a lot of photos of Flamey, yesterday. She was up on the tall bookcase, being cute, couldn't resist. Right now, she's discovered the roll of paper towels I left in a chair last night--did some dusting before I went to bed. I have to pull her off them, before she shreds them to bits and I have to Hoover up after her. I already hoovered the lounge once this week, thank you very much, Flame! Right now, she's sitting straddling the roll, looking very pleased with herself.

Signs that the End Times are coming:

1. George W. Bush marries Tony Blair and fathers a toy poodle named Saddam
2. Rupert Murdoch decides to give away all of his media holdings and become a Buddhist.
3. London is attacked by real Daleks and Cybermen.
4. Sacremental wine turns into fruit-flavoured fizzy-milk.
5. New Zealand becomes a major world power.
6. Rush Limbaugh finally admits he's a lying and shuts the hell up.
7. Conker becomes the Scottish national sport.
8. Michael Jackson comes back to life, reincarnated as a white redneck from Kentucky.
9. Ryanair decides to let people check in their luggage (and use the toilet) for free, turns every seat into business class, and serves complementary champange.
10. Politicians admit they're useless jobsworth's, before turning into pigs with wings.
11. The cast of West Wing changes places with the real administration, and no one notices.
12. Dirty fingernails and body odor become chic.
13. Paris Hilton is seen as the noblest ideal of womanhood.
14. Belgium is consumed by a bibical flood of beer and wiped off the map.
15. In Bethlehem, Auntie and Uncle Christ appear to two tourists from Altoona, Pennsylvania.
17. North Carolina declares civil war with South Carolina.
18. Texans embrace blacks and hispanics and change their state song to, "Kumbyah."
19. Pastor Phelps of Westboro Baptist Chruch comes out of the closet and admits he's gay.
20. The image of Ozzy Osbourne's face starts appearing on prawn-flavoured crisps.
21. Budwiser introduces Skittles flavour beer.
22. McDonalds starts selling deep fried sheep's dung.
23. Gasoline/petrol starts selling for under a dollar/pound per gallon/liter.
24. Wyle E. Coyote catches the Road Runner and eats him.
25. Jesus starts showing up on late-night talk programmes, announcing that this whole apocolypse thing was really just a joke to scare the nuts off his followers, and everyone should just chill already.

Jeez. I went to Lake George, trying to get away from the heat here in the city, and it was a bit cooler up there by the lake. But...the tourists....bleh. Miserable sods.

First, I was walking through a gaggle of tourists--about 15 or 20 people all around me on the pavement, when my Doctor Who book that I brought along to read while waiting for the trolley to come back, dropped out of my knapsack. I heard it fall, but I couldn't just stop--the tourists were milling all around me like the proverbial herd of cattle, and if I stopped and turned, I was afraid that I'd be pushed to the floor. So I stepped aside and waited for people to pass, then turned to retreive my book--and it was totally gone.

Unfortunately, people really can be cattle, and no one spoke up, and I had no way of knowing which was the arsehole that stole my book. Crikey. It wasn't new, I'd had it quite a while---but it was a gift from a friend, and I do cherish anything "Who," and I am quite upset over the loss. It can't be replaced, either. It would cost..well, more than I have, to replace it...and, it had sentimental value, 'cos it was a Christmas gift I got, in a year when I expected no gifts at all.

I went into a shop and bought some cherry flavour juice drink, then ambled over to the town park. There was an Elvis show on. Well, I sat down on the stone wall of the park, waiting for the show--when along comes some loudmouth jerk from Long Island (the accent and the behaviour were dead giveaways--and the jerk wouldn't shut his loud gob for 15 minutes. Non-stop whinging about heaven-knows-what. He had what my old elementary school teachers would have called "diarrhea of the mouth."

I got fed up with listening to gabbling prat's non-stop complaining about the phone signal. All the tourons whinge about the mobile phone service up here--Jeez!!! Yes. They're in a town just off a major motorway (I-87)--a town that's also surrounded on three sides by mountain ranges and millions of acres of forever-wild forest lands. Hello, get a clue numbnuts, your mobile might just not work all the time, yeah? Americans really are idiots.

Changing seats, I found another empty spot on the low stone wall bordering the park. So, I sit next to a 50-something guy, who's just sitting there quietly (or so I thought), waiting for "Elvis" to show up. About two minutes after I sit there, this guy starts in with the whinging, "When's the show gonna' start? Bring on the king." Pause. "Elvis has not entered the building. When's the show gonna' start?" Pause. "Bring on the king. When is this show gonna' start, do you know, honey?" (addressed to his wife or girlfriend) "What's taking so long? Bring on the king."

Cripes! Was I sitting next to a grown man, or a ten year old in a 50 year old's body? What IS it with American men and their CONSTANT whinging and moaning and mewling and complaining? I mean, the bloke's on holiday, what's it matter if the show is running a few minutes late? He could be sitting on his arse at home, watching whatever re-run is on tele, swilling a beer--but here he was, in a beautiful park, on a lovely lake framed by rolling green mountain peaks, about to listen to "The King." What the hell is there to whinge about? Millions of Americans aren't even getting a holiday this year. Blimey, people will find things to be unhappy about, when they have no reason to be unhappy.

The show was supposed to start at 7.30, but it appeared that they were having lighting issues...which should have been obvious by the fact that there was a guy in a pony tail, running around on stage, alternately looking up at the overhead spots, and running into the wings of the stage, fiddling with stuff. But, as I said, Americans are idiots of the first order.

It was only 7.40, so it's not like the crowd was being made to wait a half-hour or something like that!

So, I left before the show, and strolled along the lakefront. I glanced at the parasailing booth--I have to admit, that sort of looks like fun, but I'm not sure I'd be able to work up the nerve to try it, even though it's supposed to be totally safe.

Thought I heard rain, but wasn't sure if it was that or that the wind was picking up, but yes, it's raining out. Maybe that will cool things down, I don't know. It's still quite warm. Last night, my bedroom was 88 F/ 28 C.

I was going by a shop in Lake George, and they had reproduction concert, film and political posters on sale, two for $5, or $3 each. I dithered between a 1984 R.E.M. concert poster, and poster for a 1950 Pete Seeger and the Weavers "people's artist" concert. I got the Pete Seeger poster, cos' I'd seen him in concert several times--the first time when I was just 8 or 9 years old, back in the late 60's...and I used to have an old Weavers album back in my teenage years.

I hadn't planned on buying anything more than a cold drink. And, while I window shop a lot, I rarely ever actually buy anything, unless it's a $5 tee shirt, or some trinket that's just a couple of dollars. For instance, early this summer at one of the twee Lake George shops, I got a "peace" bracelet for $2, as a little treat for myself. Or, I might buy a slice of pizza and a small soda, or some ice cream, or something off of Mc'D's dollar menu.

I really try hard to refrain from impulse buying. The thing I do, if I see something I want, is to wait. If I still want it--and can afford it, a week or two or three week's later, then I'll consider getting it...if it's gone by then, my philosophy is that I wasn't meant to have it, anyway. I normally get tee shirts, jewelry, etc. from local consignment shops, thrift stores, boot sales, or on layaway at Tractor Supply. I can find more bargains a couple of miles from home, than 7 or 8 miles away, in Lake George.

But, sometimes I do impulse buy, and tonight was my night. Well, it's not like I spent my last fiver on the poster.

I decided to catch the 8pm bus back home. At the trolley stop at the Steel Pier, I sat and gazed at the mountains and the boats on the lake...until I was accosted by a guy that was drunk and/or high, whom suddenly decided that I was his long lost pal or something. It just wasn't my night. Meh. I humoured the guy, but was glad when he chose to sit at the back of the bus.

I'm glad to be home. I've not eaten all day, and don't feel much like eating, but my stomach's better. Maybe the relaxing walk in the cooler night air (despite being surrounded by an idiots-R-us convention) helped to settle my stomach.

I have to go to bed early. Back to work tomorrow. It's not been a bad few days off, so no real complaints from me, even with the wonky stomach today, the heat, the idiots and loss of the book.

Aw, man, I'm feeling rubbish right now.

I had to do my week's laundry, so I took 2 loads by bus to the laundromat--the bag weighing approx. 20 pounds.

It was 90 F--which I think is around 32 C. And...I've got the runs...and...the loo at the laundromat was locked up tight.

Walking two streets down from the laundromat, to the bus stop, in the blistering heat, with the heavy laundry bag, my heart started doing the samba and I began to feel dizzy.

Not a fun day out, that.

I came home to find some stinking little bratty Dr Who psuedo-fan leaving insults on my blog. God, some of these kids today really do have crap for parenting. I almost feel sorry for them--but I feel sorrier for the human race, actually.

Took a shower, and now am going back out. I seriously need some medicine, and the only way to get it, is to hop on yet another bus and go and get the bleedin' stuff. Meanwhile, the sweat is running down my face like my scalp is crying tears.

I may skip eating tonight--too hot! Screw the diabetes. I really don't want to even look at food, right now.

My gosh, the weirdos are coming out of the woodwork in droves, lately!

I wrote a Doctor Who caption eons ago--I think the one referenced here was from TWO YEARS ago, and still the brats with CRAP parents are coming out of the woodwork.

Someone should send this spoiled badly raised little brat to the farmyard, where she can enjoy company with the rest of the two legged pigs...and, happy slap her mum, for not loving her daughter enough to teach her how to behave like a LADY, instead of some infantile, slutty, wannabe lorry driver.

These snotty little lowlife rubbish brats have taken over the Dr Who fansites, and are so obnoxious and odious, that I can't even stand to be around them any more. They are so disrespectful of other human beings, they bear little resemblance to a human being themselves.

But, that's NOT the 'weirdo' part:

This BRAT insults someone who is three times her age, then, wants me to VISIT her lousy little website!

How's that for crass brass?

Here's what the brat wrote me. I rejected her comment, I wouldn't deign to respond the rugrat's drivel, I've better thing to do.

Hey, but what do you expect from some rugrat, whose parents couldn't even spell her first name right??? God, I wish I knew who her parents were, I'd be giving them a little lecture on how lazy and crap their childraising is.

Some of these "new" teenage Doctor Who fans absoultely FAIL as human beings.

As a devoted fan for the past 26 years, and, as an ADULT, I want nothing to do with them, they are NOT fans, just losers who are turning the fandom of the world's most wonderful televsion show--into a SEWER.

Author: Rebekka Dickenson (IP: 81.101.228.34, cpc2-hart3-0-0-cust33.midd.cable.ntl.com)Email: rebekka.dickenson@ntlworld.comUrl: http://www.doctorwhocrazy2009.piczo.com

Comment: The writing below The picture of David Tennant is stupid, idiotic and childish.Also the catchphrase is not changed as it is obviouse in David Tenant's first full episode with the sycorax. Also if you want to go to a decent Doctor Who site go to www.doctorwhoxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.piczo.XXXXX

NAME OF HER WEBSITE HAS BEEN BLOTTED OUT. I would rather eat horse manure, than promote the website of some pseudo-fan behaving like a two-legged pig.

Tardisgurl sent me another one, so I'm oblibging her....meh, it's not like I have a life.

1. Black and White or Color; how do you prefer your movies?

Really, I think what was done with black and white films, in regard to using b/w photography in telling the story and creating visual atmosphere, even though it was vastly limited compared to what we can do today, was somewhat superior--it had to be, if you think about it.

I don't have a problem with colour films tough. Really, we have such advancement in techonolgy today, that sometimes it's like comparing apples to oranges. The scripts and actors--our very culture, is so far different today, than it was then, it's sort of an unjust comparison.

2. What is the one single subject that bores you to near-death?

Sort of a toss up between soap opera plots and celebrity gossip.

3. MP3s, CDs, Tapes or Records: what is your favorite medium for prerecorded music?

I've never done anything with those MP thingys, I haven't a clue what they are, or what to do with them. CD's are mostly out of my budget--and I've never owned an actual CD player...well, other than my portable CD/DVD player and my computer. I do own a phonograph and have about a dozen or so vinyl records. I like cassette tapes, 'cos I know how to use them, and it's easy for me to make mix tapes. I wouldn't object to learning about new technology, it's just that it's simply not in my budget at all, and not practical.

4. You are handed one first class trip plane ticket to anywhere in the world and ten million dollars cash. All of this is yours provided that you leave and not tell anyone where you are going ever. This includes family, friends, everyone. Would you take the money and ticket and run?

No. I know this probably sounds bonkers, but I have my "code" that I live by. My conscious would bother me too much, leaving my friends (and sister, I suppose) hanging as to what happened to me. No amount of money would be worth hurting people who genuinely care about me. However, if no money was involved, but the trip was in the Doctor's Tardis...see ya! I'm outta' here!

5. Seriously, what do you consider the world's most pressing issue now?

Wow, that's a broad question...how do I narrow that down? My first reaction is to say, poverty. But water is a quickly dimishing resouce, and one human beings cannot exist without, so I'll say clean potable water.

6. How would you rectify the world's most pressing issue?

Another broad question. It's not a black and white answer, is it? There's politics, wars, mother nature, pollution, etc, all thrown into the mix. Education, of course--not just conservation, but training, such as teaching farmers about irrigation techniques, using special gravity wells (I forget what they're called), and other techniques to conserve and get the most out of water resources. Desalination plants, things like that.

If people knew just how limited our water resources were...well, not so bad we have to hoard water yet--but it's not that good, either.

Oh, and in regards to bottled water--it actually helps to accelerate global warming, by the energy used to bottle the stuff...and the pollution created by people just tossing away their plastic bottles...drink from the tap, or buy by the big jug. Stop spending too much money on bottled water (unless you really have need for it)...it does more harm to the world, than good for you.

7. You are given the chance to go back and change one thing in your life; what would that be?

Oooh, that's tough. Where to start? I'd have liked to have finished my forth year college, I suppose and gotten my BA in communications--the empty-headed republicans, in a frenzy of very Hitlerequse anti-liberal education paranoia, cut financial aid to the poor and disabled--while, at the same time (2005), reducing federal funding to state and community college/uni's.

8. You are given the chance to go back and change one event in world history, what would that be?

Gosh, these are broad questions--and tough one's! I don't think it would be cool to change history...I can think of quite a few turning points, how the world might be different--for better or worse, if some things had or hadn't happened.

9. A night at the opera in Paris, or a night at the Grand Ole' Opry in Nashville which do you choose?

I used to listen to country music as a teenager, and sometimes in my 20's, as well--but then, about the time of the Gulf War, it got so it's sameness and pathetically shallow and insincere lyrics, really started to make me gag. I'm not crazy about most opera, but some I like--and Paris, hey, it's...Paris. I'll take opera, thanks.

10. What is the one great unsolved crime of all time you'd like to solve?

Oh, Jack the Ripper, that might prove either surprising, or possibly, unremarkable.

11. One famous author can come to dinner with you. Who would that be, and what would you serve for the meal?

I'm tempted to say Shakespeare, but you know, I think Oscar Wilde might be a gas.

12. You discover that John Lennon was right, that there is no hell below us, and above us there is only sky - what's the first immoral thing you might do to celebrate this fact?

Why would I celebrate anything. It either is or it isn't. Life goes on, whatever.

13. A famous celebrity has been advidly reading your blog, and out of the blue, sends you an e-mail What would it say?

I have no clue. I can't fathom any famous person bothering to my blog. That my friends and other perfectly ordinary folk, take the time out of their day to read my blog, leaves me amazed, and is well good enough for me.

14. You are going on long trip, you have been given an i-pod, but you can only put 10 songs on it. What one's would you choose?

Ouch, another tough question! God, I love music, how to choose? Well, I'll just throw some of my favs into a list, off the top of my head:

Casanova, Baby! by The Gaslight Anthem
Me and the Moon by Gaelic Storm
Ruby by The Kaiser Chiefs
Earth Angel by The Penquins
Letter From America by The Proclaimers
Doctor Who Regenerations by Nick
Henrietta by the Fratellis
Stars by The Cranberries
Drift Away, by Dobie Gray
In The Mood by Glenn Miller

15. You have to relive the saddest moment of your life, what would you do?

Get someone else to sign the paper to turn off mum's life support.

I've a troll that's been following my blog half a dozen times a day. I never publish his comments, reject them johnny-on-the-spot, actually. But still, he trolls me. Ugh. To think some right-wing American bloke has a fetish over me....that's pretty gross, I won't go there. Bleurgh!

I've been getting odd comments on one of my other blogs (not on this site), burbbling nonsense, really. There sure are a lot of weirdos on the internet, lately. Think the recession has driven more people bonkers than ever before.

Oh well. Better on the internet, than meeting them in real life!

There's this one local bloke, rides the trolley, dresses in fake furs and khakis--sort of like a cross between that dead Australian bloke Steve whatshisname, and neanderthal man. He carries a big stick and has a black netted sack full of plastic skulls, slung over his shoulder.

Yeah, America wins the bonkers prize, that's for sure.

It's summer, and that means that county fairs are going on, all over the state of New York. We've already had the Saratoga County Fair, and soon, the Washington County Fair will be up and running. The county I live in, is probably one of THE most half-arsed counties in all of northeastern New York.

They have a county fair in Warren County, but it's never advertised, and has few attractions and departments--departments are things like flowers, vegetebales, arts & crafts, antiques, livestock, horses, etc. It's where residents of the county can show off their hobbies and skills and animals, for a chance to win ribbons and small cash prizes. It's really tiny and just...lame...no, I think a better description is lazy and apathetic. And, they put the fairgrounds in such an out of the way place, that even people who live all year 'round in the county, don't even know where the fair is held. For a while, the county didn't even bother to hold a fair. In a place where tourism is a major factor in the local economy, how many kinds of stupid, is that?

Shame, that.

Anyway, my old dad used to drag our family to the same fair, every single blinking year. Just the one. And, why he chose one that was well over an hour's drive from home, over the one in our own home county, which was just a 30 to 45 minutes drive away, I'll never know.

The Columbia County Fair in rural Chatham, New York, was your typical small country fair. They had pony pulling--farmers from all over eastern New York and western New England, competing with teams of draft ponies pulling stone boats to earn cash prizes for the team that could pull the heaviest weight the farthest. There were harness horse (standardbred) races and a horse show and gymkhanna.

There were livestock shows, food booths, and side shows--I remember seeing the "World's Smallest Bull" a Hereford type bull which was all of about 3 feet high. Of course, there were some rides--my favourite being the scrambler, as I recall. And, like any good fair, there were concerts every night on the stage in front of the grandstand. One year, in 1970, The Cowsills played--they were the singing group the early 1970's TV show, The Partridge Family, was based on--The Cowsills also had several top 40 hits under their belt, by the time we saw them play. My sister snuck backstage after the concert, and met them--getting their autographs on the concert programme, which she had lying around the house for quite a few years. It was a big deal for her.

One of the things that I remember most, that late summer of 1970, was the POW exhibit. The Vietnam War was in full swing, and POW's had only just started to become an issue on the national scene. They had a stockade set up, an exact replica of the type of "prison" used by the Viet Cong for captured US soldiers. Until that moment, as a not-quite ten year old child (I didn't turn ten until the autumn), the war was something far distant, that I saw bits of on the six o'clock news every night. Something long-haired freaky people protested.

The stockade was made of poles of bamboo, and quite small. There was a couple of actual former POW's there, in uniform, explaining what happened to them. It was totally sobering. It came on the heels of a very bad thing that happened to me, the previous summer, and maybe that's why it stuck out in my mind. It was my second introduction to the not so pleasant "adult" side of the world. I'm not sure that's correct or not. I just know that the POW exhibit left me feeling very unsettled, long after the fair was just a memory.

Now, as a child, I wanted to be one of three things, when I grew up: a forest ranger, an actress or a cowgirl. I especially wanted to be a cowgirl. We didn't have Dr Who when I was growing up. We had the TV western: Streets of Laredo, Bonanza, The Big Valley, Zorro, The High Chapperal, Cowboy in Africa, F-Troop, Gunsmoke, The Virginian, Alias Smith and Jones, Kung Fu and countless others.

I became very into playing cowboys and indians--either with capguns or with toy cowboy sets. Mum bought me cowgirl outfits from Montgomery Ward, and...cowboy hats. I loved my cowboy hats! I mean, they were (and to some extent, still are) my "trademark," they were what defined who I was.

To this day, I still remember my first "real" (as in authentic) cowboy hat purchase. I've had a cowboy hat, every year of my life, since I was around 4 or 5 years old, no lie. Well, by the time I hit 14 or so, I think mum realized that she'd created a cowgirl monster, and despaired of ever parting me of my hat. Even one of the neighbour's, the woman across the street from us, tried to discourage me from wearing my hat(s). But, it was ingrained in me. I felt naked without my hat--of course, I didn't wear one ALL the time! But, enough so the practice, I suspect, caused my mother to despair of ever raising a "girly" girl.

One year, when I was about 14 years old, my dad took me and one of my girlfriends from school to the fair. Of course, I wore my hat--in this case, a Bailey brand straw hat. Bailey was at the time, near the bottom of the line of name-brand cowboy hats--there was Stetson, Resistol, Bailey and American Hat Co., more or less in that order. Yet, I was very attatched to my hat, which mum had bought me from a local western wear shop.

At the fair, my friend and I wandered around. At one point, I'd taken off my hat, and walked away without it. Realizing a few minutes later that I'd forgotten it, I ran back to the place I'd left it--and it was gone! I was dejected, but carried on, wandering around the fairgrounds with my friend, checking out the rides. We'd just come off a ride, and were walking past the grandstand on our way to visit the horse racing stables to pet the horses (we were both a bit "horse crazy" and often went riding together).

As I walked off the ride towards the grandstand, a man walked by me...wearing my hat! I didn't hesitate. I walked up to him, saying, "Hey mister, that's MY hat!" And, without further ado, indignantly swiped that sucker right off of his head. I don't know which was funnier--the open-mouthed (and guilty) expression on his face, or the atonished and disconcerted look my friend's eyes! The man never said a word to me, no denial or apology, as I plopped my hat back on my head and walked away. My friend, when she regained the power of speech again, punched me in the arm and said, "I can't believe you just did that!"

Dont. Mess. With. My. Hat.

Well, I had a nice day's outing--once I got there. There were these giginormous tailbacks today...partly people going home, stupidly using only one motorway exit from three or four they could choose from...and partly hundreds of holiday people flocking to the big half-mile of name-brand factory outlets, all to once, getting in some last-minute bargain hunting before they leave for home.

Normally takes 20 to 30 minutes to get to Lake George from where I live--depending on traffic and how many stops the trolley bus makes. Today it was a combination of multiple stops and that huge tailback...took nearly double the time, about 50 minutes, to get there.

It's been misty rain to light rain, all day today. The mountains and lakes are wreathed in mist and fog. I enjoyed my ride. Rode a new horse, a brown and white paint horse called Dakota. He was nice. I was the only one out riding a horse. There were some hasidic Jews from down in New York City, who were giving their little boy a pony ride, and two girls wandering around the petting zoo and game arcade, but I was the only one going for an actual trail ride.

So, it was just me and the guide. I remembered to ask for longer stirrups this time, so had a comfy ride--and the saddle wasn't quite so hard on my bum as the last time, as well. Bob the guide and I, chatted, and one of the lady wranglers introduced me to a new blue roan mare they just bought, named Blueberry. Oh, she was an absolute sweetie! Very sweet-tempered and, as horsemen say, "bomb proof"...meaning a horse that's essentially unflappable. I liked her a great deal. Bomb proof--that's my kind of horse, ha-ha.

I took some pics with my new camera. I don't know if the one of me on the horse will come out, 'cos Dakota wouldn't stand still, so if and when they get developed, and if they come out (25 cent camera, I won't hold my breath), they might be a bit blurry. I snapped a few random pics of a stagecoach and some of the petting zoo animals, as well. If the pics of me come out, someday in the future I may post them. I was wearing my cowboy hat and my one and only cowgirl shirt, so I sort of look the part, ha-ha.

I had a bit of fun after riding. I spied a couple of lariats lying on the ground, near some plastic steer head dummies (that rodeo cowboys use to practice their roping skills on), the plastic steer head was mounted to some wood, so kids and dudes could try their hand at roping.

I missed more than I made it--I technically consider only roping one horn a miss, cos' in the real world of the cowboy, roping only one horn doesn't count--you have to rope them both, or the steer can break loose....but, considering I haven't done any actual roping in 30 years, I wasn't too shabby at it. I was hitting the mark 2 times out of five, and all but once did actually snag a horn...just not both.

I thought the place was fairly deserted--it was late in the day and drizzling rain, and I didn't know anyone was watching me. I gave a start when a little boy came quietly up behind me and said, "wow, you're good!" (blushed, I did). I said thanks. I don't think I would have even stood there in the middle of the place, roping the dummy like a fat wannabe cowgirl, if I thought anyone was watching--really, I was rubbish. I probably could never rope a real steer or calf from horseback--I'd fall off the horse!

Coming out of the Wild West park, a couple in the car park stopped me--seeing the hat, they thought I worked there, and they asked me if I had any brochures on me.

Well, they seemed very nice, and I noted that they had a handicapped parking tag hanging from their rearview mirror, so I went back down the lane to the ranch (they don't allow car traffic near the horses, so people have to park in the car park and walk in), and got them some stuff. Turns out, the woman is from a town near the one I grew up in--and works at a supermarket in my old hometown--and used to know my late uncle--she used to buy gas/petrol from his Mobil station all the time. Is that a small world, or what? They gave me a lift out to the trolley stop--even offered to drive me into Glens Falls, if I wanted...isn't that nice? I love it when people are nice to me. It really makes me feel great.

Anyway, rode the trolley bus into Lake George and strolled around a bit. Got a soda at McD's, and walked around window shopping--the shops have some really cool stuff in them, this year..nothing I can afford, or would ever really need for that matter, but it's fun to look at all the useless but pretty junk one can buy.

One shop had a sale table with used hardcover books for $1...and there was this hardcover mystery book, that I've been looking for, for ages! I was tickled pink! I got a used paperback by this author who writes mysteries set in old Japan--I forget which century, and the book I had was a whacking good mystery, very engaging--but, I've not been able for the life of me, for the past several years, been able to find more books by this author (I don't order things online any longer, if I can help it). Then...viola! Eureka! There's a hardback book just sitting there, for only $1! Isn't that brilliant? Well, I think it's pretty brilliant. I adore a good book, they are a real treasure.

Anyway, had my ice cream cone, got back on the trolley, and here I am. Contemplating what to make for dinner. I think maybe a hamburger with fried onions, and a cold bacon-ranch flavour macaroni and mayonnaise salad, with some shredded carrots thrown in. Yum!

This week a couple of links to my playlist player "broke," so I had to load some differnt tunes on there, to replace the lost music.

I found this really cool Dr Who theme track. It's called, "Regenerations."

Basically, it's the Dr Who theme through the decades. It starts with one of the original themes, from the early 70's--I think, and then goes to the early 80's theme, merges with the late 80's theme, then to the 1996 movie theme, finally ending with the 2006 version.

It's really clever and well done, and I'm glad I was able to add it to my playlist.

Well, bad jaw or no, rain or no, I'm blinking going horseback riding today, so I'd best get changed.

I bought a cheap (25 cents) plastic 35 mm camera at the one-dollar shop yesterday, and a $3 roll of 35mm film, so maybe I'll take some pics while I'm out, even though it's seriously overcast today. The camera doesn't have a flash, and I've no clue what sort of pics it will take--if a 25 cent camera will even take decent pics, but I figured if it works, it's a heck of a lot cheaper than the disposible cameras I normally have to buy--which run $8 to $10, every time I want to take photos. This way, if the thing works, I'm saving at least five dollars a pop, ever time I want to take some pics, by only having to buy a single roll of film, instead of a whole camera.

One of the local shops had digital cameras on sale for $17.99, but after my seriously disappointing experience with that dodgy godawful Disney Pix camera, that I bought for $20 early this year, I really am leery of buying a cheap digital camera.

So, Nancy G's gonna' don her new Ariat hiking/riding boots, my ladies western shirt and my cowboy hat, and hit the dusty (or, more probably, rocky and muddy) trail. Ride 'em cowgirl.

Oh, and LOVE the new boots. Sure, my foot still hurts when I've been on it a while, but not nearly as often or as much (so far), with these new boots. They do support my bad foot really well. They were worth the wait, and are a genuine blessing.

Well, now I've gone and done it. My bad tooth is bleeding again, and my right jaw is swelling up a bit. Thankfully, the pain's minimal.

I so wish I could get to a dentist--but...there's just no one. I thought I might have found one in the suburbs outside the city here--Aspen Dental in Queensbury. But, while they do accept Medicare, they want a co-pay at the time of the visit...the woman said they wouldn't be able to tell me, until I filled out the paperwork, but that it could be as much as $75. Oh, ow. That would hurt just as much as the bad tooth! And, then I'd have the cab fare, on top of that--around 15 dollars, round trip. Yikes.

To put that co-pay into perspective for you, that $75 is roughly half a week's pay, for me. Very ow. Oh yeah, that would make me wince every bit as much as having the tooth messed with.

I work two weeks out of every month, to pay my electic bill...and, that's just the co-pay, I would be responsible for anything Medicare doesn't pay for...which could be a little or a lot, depending on the whims of the US government.

The alternative is the health centre in Warrensburg, NY, some 15 miles distant. I may or may not be able to get a ride to there, but the health centre I go to, has not been forthcoming with the referral I need to go there, even if I could get there---I've been trying to get them to give me a mental health referral for over a year, now. All my health center ever cares about is my diabetes and high blood pressure and some female stuff. They could may lecture me about my teeth, but they are full of hot air, really.

My health providers here, are the WORST in the entire area. They have a crap reputation. They told a co-worker's hubby he had cancer in his leg--no lie, they did, when all he had (which he found out after going to another doctor), is that he had a rare form of dermititis!

I went to them in June, with what I suspected was another jaw infection, and the mooks at the health center gave me a nitro pill and sent me to hospital via ambulance, thinking I was having a heart attack....but, I was right, it was merely another jaw infection. My heart's good for "at least another five years," according to the heart specialist at the local hospital.

This is why we need better health care for the poor and under/uninsured. We need to be able to have some choice in our health care provider. As it stands now, health care in the USA is purely greed-driven. It's about profit and not about humanity.

The huge gaping difference, between the "haves" in American health care, and the "have nots," is that the "haves" have choice. The have nots have no choices. As in none. We have to take whatever we can afford, and are supposed to be grateful for indifferent, lackidasical and poorly mangaed health care. IF we can even get that!

That's why I despise and spit on people who are against socialized medicines. Not a one of these has ever lain in bed, for days on end, moaning and/or crying in total agony, completely powerless to stop their suffering....for no other reason than lack of money. Bastards, I try not to hate people, but I'm sorry, I hate all Americans who are against socialized medicine.

How can I not? The victim will always hate the instrument of their torture--and that's what these right-wing Americans who are against socialized medicine are, let's not sugarcoat it, they are torturers. They allow innocent people to suffer, for no other reason than deliberate selfish greed, and some unreasoning paranoia only they understand.

In the meantime, I've got this big hole in my now-swollen jaw. If I hear one more person say, "Why don't you go see a dentist," I swear, I'm going to slap him or her. Because, dipstick, I CAN'T AFFORD IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Former Vermont Governor, Democratic National Committee chairman and independant presidental candidate, Dr. Howard Dean, has said that Sarah Palin is a lying, evil Nazi wench.

No, not really. But the former governor--who was commenting on the bullshite Alaska's most famous chav bimbo wrote on her Facebook page, where Palin claims that the pending national health care legislation contains a clause about a panel deciding how old people are going to die..ie: euthanasia---said that, while it's an ongoing discussion in the political and medical arenas, it was NEVER even discussed in regards to the health care! As in NOT. EVER.

Basically, Dean says Sarah just made this up, and she should shut the up.

Sarah Palin and ALL Americans, trying to derail national health care, that will ease the genuine suffering of MILLIONS of Americans, are nothing but a bunch of two-legged walking steaming piles of stinking poo.

Sarah Palin and the rest of the selfish, shallow, greedy and paranoid right wingers, leave a stench in my nostrils that honestly makes me gag, just thinking about them.

I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to go riding today, due to the rain--naturally, yesterday was a picture perfect sunny day, much of the afternoon. Today is overcast and cool.

However, the rain is mostly of the misty/sprinkles variety, and very spotty. So, I think if I wait just a few hours, and go after noontime, it'll be fine. Maybe the coolness will keep the insects at bay--or make them worse, you never know.

I stayed up late last night, watching a couple of DVD's--Pillow Talk and Dr Who's The Unicorn and the Wasp, and slept in an extra hour or so, this morning.

The church bell down the way is ringing, and folks are out jogging and walking their dogs, so I guess the rain's no big deal, and life goes on as usual, on a Sunday morning.

My appetite hasn't improved, but I did manage to eat a bit more than I have been, yesterday. I made myself a proper breakfast--a sausage, egg and cheese butty, and a mess of deviled hard boiled eggs (stuffed with the yolks that have been mixed with mayonnaise) for my lunch break at work. Last night, I had a small turkey-bacon sub, from Mr. B's Best, a local fast food joint, up the road. That's the most I've eaten in one day, all week...and held down. I don't have a clue how I could have possibly gained 10 pounds--even eating pizza, because I've only been eating one or two meals a day, for the last week or so.

Anyway, going subject my buttocks to a pounding in the saddle, today. I'll make sure to tell them to leave my stirrups long, this time. I can ride with shorter stirrups, if I have to--it does come in handy when you have to stand up in the stirrups or do a posting trot, but really, it hurts wicked bad, punishing the hell out of my bad right knee--that's the one that I'd fractured getting bucked off a horse when I was 19. After 20 years, the cartilidge had become frayed, they had to operate and remove it completely. My knee improved tremendously after that--the resulting bursistis cleared up quite a bit, but, it doesn't handle the stress of being bent and pounded on too well, such as one does riding.

I used to have all kinds of medicinal braces lying about--back brace, knee brace, ankle brace...I used to need them constantly 10 or 20 years ago, for working around horses--and for other things like hiking and doing heavy work around the home--used to kill my back and knee, alternately lying and kneeling on the ground, fiddling with the vinyl skirting around the bottom of my mobile home for hours, trying to fit it back into the slotted groove of the top edge--every time there was a windy night, the stuff would come off, and I'd have to put it back on. Grrrr. Finally, my sister came up from Vermont to assist me, and with the help of a drill and some screws I borrowed from my dad, we screwed those suckers on permanantly--except for a crawl space access panel, of course--which still came off in the wind with teeth-grinding regularity.

Unfortunately, I can't find a single one of my braces, now. Must have gotten lost during one of my moves in the last few years.

This is more or less what my mobile home (caravan) looked like--it was 14 feet wide, and 72 feet long, and had two bedrooms and two baths--one on each end. Towards the rear, was an eat-in island kitchen with sliding glass doors in the dining area. The kitchen also had a built in hutch and ceiling cupboards over the island--came with a washer-dryer, fridge and stove, and two sets of stairs for front and back.

The rear master bedroom had French doors leading to the master bath with a large-size (garden) tub, sink/vanity, and a small loo to one side. The front bath was off a 3 foot long hall to the right of the front door, leading to a small front bedroom, which had a closet which took up one whole wall...the water boiler was in the closet. The furnace cupboard was off the hallway, next to the front bathroom door. The living room/lounge was inbetween the hall and the kitchen. All in all, it was a good arrangement for mum and I. She took the front, and gave me the back. That surprised me, as I'd thought the bath being in the back bedroom--and the bedroom's close proximity to the kitchen, would be ideal for her--but she said she preferred a smaller living space, so that's how it worked out...and, it wasn't bad, really. She had her end, I had mine, so we each had some privacy, and weren't in each other's face all the time, like we were in the small 1 1/2 bedroom flat I was renting, when she first moved in with me.

This isn't a pic of my 1995 mobile home, but it's more or less what it looked like. Ours had red shutters at the windows, and a metal roof, but the colour of the siding and the building's size and the bottom skirting are similar:

Jeez. Riding on the bus can be an education in human thickheadedness. (Is that a word? Oh well, who cares? It's a word, now, ey?)

The bus has a big sign in the front window: LAKE GEORGE. They'll get on the bus and say, "Does this bus go to Lake George?" Nahh--we're going to flippin' Quebec, dunderhead.

The sign on the front of the bus will say GLENS FALLS and the people will crowd up to the bus saying, "Is this the bus that goes to the RV park" Nooo--that would be the bus that says, RV PARK on it, idiot. And, you wouldn't believe how pissed off people get, when they find out it's the wrong bus. I mean, you're on holiday, does it matter? If you're in a hurry, call a cab, for pity's sake!

There a sign, right by the door as you get on, black and white, plain as day, listing the fares. They get on, walk right past the very obvious money recepticle--the one that says "Fare" on it-- and walk to their seat...and the driver has to sit there and say, "Excuse me, but this isn't free." Or, they'll hand the driver a tenner for a one dollar fare and expect him or her to stop and make change. Blimey! How many public transit bus driver's do you know of, that take time out of their bus schedule, to make change? A sum total of...none. It's amazing how many Americans--and sometimes a few foreigners-- have apparently never taken public transport before.

Oh yeah, the tourons get very testy if their bus is even five minutes late. Well you know what, numbnuts, that's called REAL flippin' LIFE. Reality isn't a TV show, reality is standing in the hot sun or pouring rain or freezing cold for 45 minutes, on sore, tired feet, waiting for a bus. It's public transit, not your own private limo. Pfft. Deal with it!

There are some good people though. Some of the tourists are actually very pleasant and friendly. A quartet of French Canadians boarded the bus, and didn't speak English very well--well, they're French. They had trouble figuring out the English name of their hotel, but I figured it out, and told the driver--and as they were getting off the bus, one of the ladies thanks the driver, and then turned to me, and said, "Thank you nice lady."

Most of the trolley bus drivers are really nice, and often I chat with them, if there's no or few passengers on board. I so seldom get to have conversations with people, that I really appreciate the driver's friendliness.

Gawd, I sound like I'm turning into one of those bus ladies. We have one, on the trolley's. She rides every night, and strikes up conversations with the foreign kids--she asked one kid from Macedonia, if he had those "funny looking buildings" and camels in his country. She asked another foreign girl if she liked America and wouldn't she rather live here than in her own country? Trolley lady also watches a lot of tele, apparently, and is forever going on about all the different stuff she saw on the Discovery Channel--in particular, she especially seems fixated on Australia, for some reason--at least once a week, I hear her nattering on about kangaroos and digeridoos.

I remember when I was a teenager, I used to ride the buses in this state's captial city all the time, and there was this one elderly bus bloke--like the elderly trolley lady, he rode the bus every day, for no other reason, apparently, than to ride the bus---the bus bloke used to sit in the back and shout out place names: "CHICAGO!" "LONDON!" "ASPEN, COLORADO!" "PARIS, FRANCE!"

He especially seemed fixated on Aspen, though. That was his favouite place name to shout out, dunno' why. Maybe he used to ski?

I wish I was a people person--but, outside of my farm lady friend, and another co-worker, no one ever asks me out...and only then, once every few months, at best. Don't get me wrong, it's fine, I'm well-used to it, and am hardly staying at home, pining for company or feeling sorry for myself. It's just that sometimes, I feel the loss of human interaction, that's all.

I guess sometimes I worry, that I'm going to turn into a bus-lady or a cat lady, or a section-candidate.

But, hopefully, I'll never be a tourist who looks at a bus sign, and then asks where the bus is going! On the other hand...I have on more than one occasion, gotten into the lift, and pushed the button for the floor I'm on, instead of the floor I want--or stood there like a mook, waiting for the lift to start--when I didn't push the button to begin with.

This morning, the weather is what I consider to be a perfect 10. Unfortunately, I'll be spending the entire day indoors, telemarketing what's left of my brains out.

Hope the rest of you will have a good Saturday...think of me, chatting my brains away, trying to sell stuff to people that they don't really want or need.

Thursday, I sold a life membership to an 83 year old woman. I felt rotten, but there's so much pressure to make sales. I know I should be grateful for working, but times like that, I miss being unemployed, or standing in the laundry shack at Travelodge all day, washing, drying and folding hundreds of towels. Didn't do anyone any harm, doing that. But...if I don't work, I don't have internet, electricity or cooking/heating gas...or bin bags, shampoo, toilet paper, cat food, furniture polish, etc-- So...not much of a choice, is there?

I left work early tonight--I'd been sick earlier in the day, but hoped it was a passing thing, and went to work...well, that lasted about an hour, before I had to bolt to the ladies, again.

Went to the health centre, and--for a change, was seen immediately (usually I'm sat there for two or more hours). Seems there's a bug going 'round. But...my blood pressure was through the roof, and it's also suspected that I may have another infection again, so I have to go back next week and have them check me out more thoroughly. They wanted me to go to the ER, but I wasn't having any of that, thank you very much. I NEED to have a pay check right now, more than I need to be poked and prodded with needles!

I came home and was in bed by 8.00 pm. Woke up at half-past one in the morning, realizing I'd had nothing to eat since 2.00 pm that afternoon--which didn't stay down. I was mildly hungry, so I ate a small amount of naan bread and hummus for a late-night snack. It's the mildest thing I could think of--when I was overseas on a college trip five years ago, and hit with a bad case of traveler's illness, some flat bread dipped in hummus was the only thing my stomach could handle...so I reckon maybe thing may not have changed. We'll see.

I had a raging headache tonight, but it's much better now, and my stomach, so far, isn't objecting to my "dinner," so I hope I'm on the mend. I have to work a full shift tomorrow, from 10 to 5pm, so I'm praying that I'll be able to slog through it. It's bad enough to lose three hours pay I can ill afford, but I'd be sunk if I lost Saturday's pay, as well--that wouldn't be good at all, for someone like me, whom literally lives from pay check to pay check. Two week's pay go to just my National Grid bill, alone. My third week's pay pays for the internet service, and my forth week's pay covers anything not covered by the first three week's pay.

Best get to bed before the sun comes up. Saturday's going to be a bear to get through. I was really cranky at work tonight--being shoved into doing work I'm ill-trained for, that is not at all compatiable with my learning disability (dyscalculia), and that I only have done a few times, and that I'll only be doing one night a week--so I'll never really be any good at it.

I wish I could find another job, but there's just...nothing. Not even the summer people in the resorts are hiring...in fact, more people are getting laid off, not less--despite the government figures saying otherwise.

And, get this: a week ago I lost four pounds---now, according to the doctor's scales, I've not only re-gained four pounds in the last few days--I've put on TEN extra pounds!

Ten pounds--that's just four pounds shy of a stone, I'll have you know! In just a couple of days! I've got to lay off the junk food and ice cream, yeah?

Brrr--! I had to wake up and close a window in the front room, anyway. It's actually 45 F degrees outside right now! In August! Meanwhile, it's 100 F down in Texas and Florida...insane weather, yeah?

Sarah Palin calls herself a "devout Christian," yet also says that President Obama's health care plan--which will save THOUSANDS of innocent lives--is "evil."

Sarah Palin is one twisted bitch, is she not?

Again, it's people like her that turned me from me away from the church. I can't stomach it, any more.

The way Americans will shovel money at people dying of aids in Africa (yes, it's a serious cause, I know and we should help)...but, they ignore the fact that Aids patients in AMERICA can't always get the treatment they need, because they can't afford it. Cancer patient suffer and die when their wealthier and/or better insured counterparts live longer and with far less pain.

Children die needlessly, because their mum's can't afford dentists, and pensioners literally go without food, because they can't afford that and pay 100's of dollars for their medicines....and the American "Christian" church continues to remain silent--even the Presbyterians, whom I mistakenly thought were compassionate and caring....no, they only care if some third world country is involved--one of their own neighbours, they'll send to the food pantry, but do NOTHING about urging the govt. to make medicine desperately needed, more affordable.

Yeah, American "Christians" are a bunch of hypocritical chest-pounding, tee-shirt and bumper sticker crowing, "look at me, I believe in Chirst!" do-nothings....oh, until the right-wing says that govt. health care will include abortions--then the Sarah's come out beating the "health care is evil" drum!

We have places in the country--even in New York state, that have third world health situations...people are suffering from preventalble pain and illnesses--because of the naked greed and utterly selfish govt. interference paranoia of conservatives like Palin, are trying to stop these people from getting better and living a better and longer life. As far as I'm concerned, the Sarah Palin's of America, are nothing short of twisted and deliberately stupid little so-called Christians, they are not the representatives of the Christ I always envisioned...I don't want any part of their Christ, thank you very much.

Greed and selfishness, moral laziness and deliberate ignorance are evil, Sarah, not health care.

The apartment house where mum and I had our flat when we first moved up here to the north country in 1995, made the local police blotter in the newspaper.

The husband and wife who rent our former flat got busted by police this week, after they hosted an underage drinking party--also, one of their "guests" was arrested for sexual assult, because the woman had sex with a minor, while at the party.

I see the neighbourhood hasn't changed much, then.

I overslept by two hours. I woke up when I'd planned--but then, somehow, I fell back to sleep, and woke after 10pm. Ah well.

It's a lovely day out there, at any rate, a perfect 10 of a day. A few clouds rolling in, but doesn't seem like rain. More like cold front type clouds. Actually, it seems more like a really nice late Sept./ early October day, rather than August.

I'm on my way out in a bit. I was going to do a bit of laundry, but it's noon now, and I have to be to work by 4.50pm. I work 5 to 10 tonight, then 10 to 5 tomorrow, than have three days off...which I'll probably need. Saturday's are a bear to try and sell things to people. People are always horribly miserable to us on weekends...well, the bourgeois/proletarian Americans I call, are, as a whole, a bunch of ill-mannered misery guts most of the time, anyway--but most especially on the weekend.

I've got to run out to Walmarts, and hopefully get back in time to re-charge a bit, before heading off to work. I'd wanted to get an early start, so I could go swimming before work, but...that's not going to happen, now. Damn.

Well, here I go, starting off on a long day--to be followed by an even longer day, tomorrow. Wouldn't be so bad, if I liked my job--like that'll ever happen. I blew it, in that respect. I'll never get back to college, now. Not ever. I'm doomed to living alone, and doing drudge labour for the rest of my life--literally, the rest of my life. That's why I don't fuss over dying...it'll be like a permanent holiday, for me.

The scientists and astronomers at NASA say that there's a cure for global warming, afterall: just move the sun.

I kid you not.

This isn't a joke.

The folks at NASA that gave us Tang instant breakfast drink, space shuttle holidays for billionares and a popular cultural saying, "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind," are saying that moving the sun back away from the earth, really wouldn't be that big a deal--just detour some asteroids headed for earth, towards the sun, and bob's yer uncle, bye-bye climate change, hello....well, whatever.

Ah, those nutty guys with pocket protectors and calculators, what would we do without them?

You can read more about it, here; http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2001/jun/10/globalwarming.climatechange

I don't often check out Dr Who fan made videos--namely cos' 99% of them are made by love-sick cows posting vomit-inducing "David Tennant is soooo-hot (squee)!!!" videos.

This one however, was really creative and funny, and I'd thought I'd share it with you:

Just for the heck of it, this is my horoscope for the next two weeks--some of it is strangely accurate, some of it way off base, and of course, all of it is utter nonsense!

__________________________________________________________________________
Friday, July 31, 2009
Happiness and a desire to share your good fortune and joy with others is the theme now. You are feeling generous and expansive and are inclined to give lavish gifts or buy something lovely for yourself that is costly or extravagant. A diet or budget is likely to go out the window right now. As long as you don't overextend yourself, this is a good time to indulge your feelings of kindness towards others and also to be kind and indulgent to yourself.

Saturday, Aug 15, 2009
You disregard superficial or pat answers to your questions now and you feel impelled to probe until you get to the bottom of some situation. Mysteries, unsolved riddles, and topics that people usually avoid or sweep under the rug occupy your thoughts. When speaking, you tend to be very insistent or even fanatical about your point of view, which will either utterly convince your listeners or repel them completely.

The song, "The '59 Sound," always chokes me up a bit, whenever it plays on my playlist player. I grew up with Bobby--the boy next door. He lost his dad to alcholism while bobby was still in school, his mum was a bit of a...well, let's just say it didn't take her long to get some company in, if you know what I mean.

I liked Bobby a lot, growing up. But, he hardly even noticed me. He was very attatched to my sister, but unfortunately, she didn't like him. My sister is the only girl he ever showed any interest in, now that I think on it. He wanted so badly to be her best friend, and even to this day, she hates his guts. Besides being a bit of a racist, sis has always been seriously homophobic, so maybe back then she sensed or knew something, I never caught on to, I don't know.

Bobby mum was really upset when she found out about Bobby being gay. She made her son sleep in the garden shed...in late autumn. I heard him coughing outside my window late one night, and told my mum about it. She put him up on the old sofa in our basement. It's wasn't the best place to sleep, but it was a lot warmer and dryer than some leaky old metal shed. Bobby was a great cook, and helped with the housework...but, and I'll always feel horrible guilt about this, 'cos of what happened to him later, but he and I didn't really get along. I'm not sure why. I liked Bobby, but it was right after my parent's messy divorce, and in hindsight, even tho' I was in my early 20's, and should have known better, I don't think my emotions were too receptive to another person in the house.

So, one day, I blamed something I did on Bobby, and mum kicked him out...god, I honestly will never forgive myself. I think it was one of the most reprehensible, most rubbish things I ever did in my life--and this is actually the first time I've ever mentioned it to anyone. I never had the courage to tell my mum the truth, and I will never get over the shame and the guilt. Never.

Bobby went to live in a motel, and hung around gay bars in the city, picking up tricks for cash. He didn't keep jobs for long, and started drinking and using drugs. A year or two after the incident with me, I tried to get back in touch with him.

But, while he seemed to have, very generously and incredibly, forgiven me--he also became very unstable, emotionally. I offered to help him--I'd come into a very small amount of money at the time, and offered to help him get into a technical programme for radio broadcasting. Bobby used to have his own pirate radio station as a boy, and loved music very much. He used to make the best homemade mix tapes. But...it was too late. His head was pretty messed up by then. In fact, he deliberately walked into a car (he later confessed to me), so he could make some compensation money. He ended up breaking a leg and getting $30,000 from the lawsuit.

Unfortunately, his mum suddenly took an interest in her son, and sucked him dry..the minute the money ran out, she booted him out of the house again. I wish I were making this up, but unfortunately, it's too true. Bobby seemed to dive even lower. He went back to turning tricks and living out of motel. At the time, I was having my own issues, having lost my job at the stable, and dealing with a prolapsed disc, pinched nerve, the possibility of being in a wheelchair for the rest of my life--living for the first (and only) time in my life on welfare.

When I recovered from my back injury enough, some time later, to start some job re-training at a local tech school, I'd completely lost touch with Bobby.

I was visiting my dad one Saturday, when he shoved a newspaper at me. "Here. Read this." He said unceremoniously, not bothering to prepare me, thoughtless bastard. (Well, he was, too.) It was a news article, about the death of Bobby.

Bobby was walking across a four lane a-type road one rainy night, when he was struck and killed by a car. Whether it was a legitimate accident, a suicide, or he was trying to hit the lawsuit lottery again, no one will ever know. He never made it alive to hospital.

At the wake, his mum wailed uncontrollably. I had this terrible urge to slap her--but instead, forced a smile and mouthed the usual funerary platitudes. There's a time for the brutal truth, and a time to shut up and fake it.

Whenever I hear this song by The Gaslight Anthem, I always, always, think of Bobby. He was around 30 years old, when he died...on a Saturday night. In many ways, I think he was oh, so much braver than I ever could be, and I wish he were still with us.

I'm sitting here minding my own business, listening to my playlist player and contemplating what to make for my dinner, when comes along a nasty little mosquito.

Bzzzzz--right in my ear. Tried to bite me on the arm, and I swatted the sucker. Nailed it!

I am playwrite27, mosquito slayer!

I just went and did my grocery shopping (or messages, as my Glaswegan buddies may say), for (mostly) the week. In the process, I treated myself to some chips (crisps) and some French onion chip dip. Nom-nom! (I broke my own rule to never-ever go marketing when I'm really very hungry.)

...and I just spent the last 10 minutes stuffing my face with chips and dip. Oh dear, I do believe I've just put back on the four pounds I've lost in the last week or so. Oh well. Them's the breaks. At least I'm not hungry any longer.

I met up with my neighbour across the hall, in the car park at the Price-Rite discount grocery. She apologized for the racket they made last night.

Around 1am, they were screaming and yelling and running around like loons in their apartment. I assumed they were having another fight....no, they just had two great big brown bats in their two room apartment--one in the lounge/kitchen/bedroom, and one in the loo. They live in our ceilings...yup, the tenants here really do have bats in their belfrey! Fortunately, they haven't come into my apartment lately, tho' one did swoope really close to my face, out on my balcony the other night. I don't know what species they are, but they are quite large for bats. I grew up around the wee little brown one's--but these that we have, are flippin' huge!

I'm not too afraid of bats...except when they get near my face, I'm not crazy about that. That will startle the hell out me, that will. No matter how many times it happens, I always cringe, can't help it. I know it's silly, but--it is a bit creepy having them right in your face. I don't mind them if they keep their distance, or are just (literally) hanging around somewhere, though.

I guess the neighbours had locked themselves into the bedroom, and called someone to come and chase the bats out of there. I was lucky. Last time one was flying around my bedroom at 3am--and yes, Nancy the tree-hugging transcendentalist nature-girl, did scream like a little girl---I chased it with a broom into my front room, slammed open the balcony window, and then ran back to the bedroom and shut the door tightly....thankfully the bat got a clue and flew outside sometime before dawn!

Morning all!

I not only found my phone re-charger behind the dresser yesterday, I also found a $20 bill. Whoo-hoo!

My food stamps activate today, so I will be doing the shopping after work, and while I'm at it, since I have this $20, getting my new boots off of layaway at Tractor Supply Company. I've been making payments every week, so I don't owe all that much. Oh, my feets will be happy little campers! Well, my right foot will, at any rate. Having a permanent sprain on the top of one's foot for the rest of your life...it's a bit of a drag, but it's not so bad, with comfy, supportive shoes.

I woke at half-past five this morning, positively soaking, my hair was wet, and night shirt was actually stuck to my body. Even tho' it was a very comfy 49 F outside, my bedroom was still hovering at 80 F. So, I opened a window in the lounge and left my bedroom door open, to take advantage of the cool morning air.

Thankfully, it will be a perfect day, temp wise--it's 57 F now, and going to be in the mid-70's F, by this afternoon. It's a bit cloudy to the south, but north, up towards the mountain ranges, it's cloudless and blue. I'll take north, thank you very much.

I'm sitting here eating cold leftover spaghetti bolognase and a caffeine free diet Pepsi. I reckon I should eat better but...meh, who cares?

The Hudson River claimed yet another victim, this week. Unfortunately, this far north, the river is not as placid as it appears. We've all these dams with undertows, and the currents flowing down from the mountains, are quite deceptive. Some local man went camping on his own this past weekend, at a state park near the river. When his friend came by to pick the camper up at the end of the weekend, he never showed. County sheriff's divers, New York state forest rangers and a group of local search and rescue volunteers were looking for the past several days for the man. They just found his body yesterday afternoon, inside the water intake building of one of the local dams. The authorities thinking the man went for a swim in the river, and drowned. Shame, that. All the deaths and near-drownings in the river we get, and they never learn.

Just a ways further north, back in June, a sailor from the local U.S. Navy nuclear training base in the next county, drowned in the Hudson, diving from some cliffs near a waterfall. The current from the falls--which is near the outflow of the Sacandaga River where it meets the upper Hudson River, has taken the lives of a number of swimmers and rock divers, despite the warning signs.

As for me, I have to finish getting ready for work. Despite working with a sore throat (which seems to be gone now, thankfully), I managed to make three sales. I'm back to selling, for three days a week, and do the work for the new client, only on Friday nights.

Have a good Thursday, all.

Another early rise tomorrow, for my new schedule. So, a meme before bedtime, 'cos...well, because I can. So there.

Ten meme

1. When you buy a greetings card are the words or the picture more important to you?

Probably a bit of both, actually. I hate mushy cards, I prefer a straightforward and sincere sentiment that reflects how I really do feel. That said, sometimes I'm in a mood, and like to send a funny card--one with a cute picture and short humourous saying, just to share a laugh.

2. What's your favourite kind of cake?

Cake! Nom-nom! You know, I don't know...maybe a gold cake with chocolate frosting, or a white cake with a light airy whipped cream frosting...carrot cake or apple spice cake with cream cheese vanilla frosting...pineapple upside down cake...frosted orange bundt cake---oh, don't get me started on cakes.

3. Do you ever make gifts for people, if so what, or do you buy them?

I've rarely made gifts--I'm rubbish at crafty stuff, generally, except for floral arrangements. No, usually I carefully choose a gift I hope the recipient will enjoy.

4. What's your favourite holiday - i.e. Christmas?

No favourite holidays anymore, holidays are really only meaningful when shared. Seriously, when you're alone, holidays are just another day, and nothing really all that special.

5. Are you going on holiday this year? If so, where?

I got a couple of unscheduled extended days off--and since I'd already filled in my time for the week, it was sort of like getting a holiday. I went locally, of course. Without a car or much in the way fof funds, where the hell could I go? I don't get proper holidays, sick days, or anything, on my job. Just a pay check, that's it.

6. What was the best party you've ever been to?

I've hardly ever been to parties in my life. I've not been to a proper party in decades.

7. Decribe the room you are sitting in?

It's got four walls, a ceiling, a (convex) floor, two windows, a door, a clothes closet, some odds and ends of mismatched, largely used, boot sale/auction/discount dept. store furniture, probably too many photos/artwork on the walls, and too many knick-knacks...horses, a few cats and some flowers are the main "themes", I suppose...a few DVD's, and books--loads of books.

8. What's the most romantic thing that's ever happened to you?

I had a blind date bring me flowers, once, about 25 years ago. That was nice.

9. What's your favourite romantic song?

I'm not really the romantic type--but, that said, I suppose I'm partial to 'Earth Angel' by The Penquins.

10. Which celebrity would you like a dream date with?

Pfft. Yeah, like a celebrity would even want to meet me, let alone date me? Riight. I'm bi-polar sure, but never yet delusional.

I just found out today, that anyone working for the new client, that works over 30 hours a week, gets $10 an hour.

While reps like me, that are doing the SAME work for the client--only under 30 hours a week, get our same old pay.

That would be the one dollar an hour LESS than these other reps are making--many of whom are NEW HIRES, while moi and others of my ilk, that have been working 3 years or more WITHOUT a raise (or ANY benefits), and get piddly little bonuses (I got a whole $3.75 in bonuses so for this year), still get the SAME $9.00 an hour, we've been getting for the past three blinking years.

Have I mentioned that I work for a mob of discombobulated, tacky chavs?

I mean, how many of you, have a CEO that walks around the office, barefoot?

Mr. Russell T. Davies' positive take on the continuation of Doctor Who, and other projects he's worked on, recently.

I turned it off at the first mention of a certain spoiler regarding Tennant's final episode, so I honestly don't know how much of that was discussed.

FACT: more children, women and men suffer horribly and even die each year, for no other reason, than they cannot afford a doctor or dentist, than all those who died on 9/11.

In 2008, a 10 year old boy in Maryland died in total agony from a tooth abscess, becuase his mum could only afford a dentist for one of her children.

In 2008, a 42 year old woman in Minnesota suffered horribly, then died, from cancer, because she could not afford the medicines and treatment to not only prolong her life, but to ease her suffering as she died...all because her private health care insurer that she'd paid into for years, wouldn't cover certain treatments and medications which she desperately needed--and she was too weak to fight them.

These are just the stories of two real, ordinary human beings, both of whom could have lived--or at least died with dignity, but didn't, because America has the most INHUMANE health care system in the entire "civilized" free industrial world.

Now, as Democrats struggle to help these tens of thousands of GENUINELY suffering Americans---48 MILLION of whom have NO health care coverage, the religious right is willing, ready and able to make them continue to suffer---because they are fussed over the rights of babies that haven't even been born--or even conceived--yet.

OK? So, an unborn baby is sacred, but nearly 50 million living breathing human beings--many of them CHILDREN, are not???

And you lot wonder why I turned away from the church and became agnostic???

Quite frankly, after reading about them trying to use their narrow religious beliefs to block help for millions whom are suffering---I've formed the opinion that these anti-abortion "Christians" are as much a mob of hypocrites, as the priests of the Spanish Inqusition! What a bunch of phonies! What would Jesus do? Who cares, if this is "His" attitude towards national health care!

Beating the anti-abortion drum, as a disguise for blocking health care, all so certain Americans won't have to pay a few cents more in taxes, is just...sick and evil. It's genocide in disguise. Heil Republicans!

I was thinking about writing a new Dr Who story--a really short one. Yeah, I still have two unfinished one's on my Wordpress blog, and several that still need to be edited.

But, I had this idea for a new Dr Who monster.

It would be arm-less.

That way, I could throw the Doctor some really delicious lines, like:

"Don't shoot! It's unarmed!"

"Don't worry about that monster, Donna/Martha/Rose/Sarah Jane/Tegan, it's completely 'armless."

"I'll take it to another universe, out of 'arm's way."

"Lay down your arms---erm--well, you know what I mean."

"If you attack this planet, they'll be up in arms...oops--sorry."

"We'll arm wrestle for control of the planet--I win!"

COPYRIGHT Nancy G.

Didn't sleep well. Too hot! Woke at 3am thinking that I was going to spontaious combust. Jeez, my bedroom was 84 F, at 4am. I finally got up and took a cold shower, and that helped for about an hour or so, but before I knew it, my alarm was going off, so..no hope for it, had to just get up and be hot.

It's not baking outside. It's not even intolerable in my lounge, but my bedroom--which is quite small and has no windows that actually open, is baking! I've only the one small fan (big one broke a few week's ago), which was as effective as spitting on a bonfire.

Overcast and muggy (humid) day today. Have to leave for work in 10 min.

My ginger cat Flame made me laugh this morning. Last night I gave her some pepperoni from my sandwich, and she basically snorted it down. This morning I was eating my toast at my computer--too damn hot in the kitchen--and she's on the back of my chair, poking her paw at me, thinking I have some more pepperoni. I got up and got her a tiny piece, when I got up to pour myself a cup of coffee.

Oh, she was delighted. Flamey likes da' pepperoni. She's a strange cat. Now I can add that to her list of things she relishes: movie theater butter flavor popcorn, chinese takeaway, cheese--any kind of cheese, cheese doddle snacks, Fritos corn chips, chicken, tunafish, chorizo and Polish sausage....well, there's precious little Flamey turns her nose up at.

I finally found my phone charger! For some reason I totally cannot fathom, I'd stuck it in the closet shelf where I keep my extra tee shirts (older tees too worn to wear when I go out, but not worn out enough to throw away yet--I use them for "dirty" chores or just lounging around in...or tees that are worn out, but that I have a strong emotional attatchment to--like the tee I got in Iceland in 2001).

So, now when I come home late this afternoon, I can re-charge my phone. I was looking at new phones, but none was an affordable option. Now I don't have to worry about spending the extra money on a new phone or charger.

On my Roasting David Tennant blog, I've noted that there seems to be a discussion going on over the man's size--erm, I'm talking his weight, not his erm--you know.

Do really skinny people have to endure the bigotry and meanness that fat people do? Why don't people sit around discussing average weight people? "Oh, his weight is so average, when you look at him, he just is the right weight, isn't he?" You never hear those types of conversations, do you?

I was outside on the balcony tonight, listening to the faint strains of the pipes and drums of the local bagpipe band, wafting on the breeze. Apparently, they're giving outdoor recitals downtown in the city somewhere, on Tuesdays nights now.

The air still feels a tad dead. It's like standing by an open grave in a deserted cemetery at midnight.

There is a breeze, though fitful.

The moon was rising in the east, an angry looking ball of dull orange, hanging low in the black night sky, murky in the summer haze.

Black clouds sometimes scuttled quickly over the moon. One had the distinct appearence of a rider leaning over the back of a racing horse, whose tail furled out behind it.

Then, the clouds tried to obscure the bittersweet moon, from both above and below, making it seem remarkably like an evil eye.

Jeez, it feels ominous outside tonight.

It's not even cloudy, but there's a stillness, a thin, guazy intangible threat to the air, that bodes of evil tidings, later in the evening.

The calm before the storm. The wooly feel to the atmosphere, reminds me of the way the war room of the Death Star used to go silent, at the mention of Darth Vader's name..."he's coming (gulp) HERE?!?"

Da-da-da-da, da-dum-da-da.

Actually, I just checked the National Weather Service's state-wide radar, out of Albany, NY, and there is a severe thunderstorm warning out in far north-western New York, and a "special marine warning" for the St. Lawerence Seaway/Thousand Islands, as well.

Well, it's a big state, and unless it's an unusually fast-moving storm, it'll be at least two or three hours getting here....if it gets here at all.

I'm a bit tired tonight, but feeling better than I'd been over the last few days. Thought I'd even make myself a "proper" meal tonight--some spag bol and a tossed lettuce salad. I've some meatloaf mix---that's a ground blend of beef, pork and veal--but it's too hot for meatloaf to be baking in the oven, so I thought I'd pot some capellini pasta on, and open a can of vodka-cream pasta sauce and have that, instead.

If it does storm, I've a feeling it's going to be another gully-washer.

Playwrite27 greets you. It's my last day off for a while. Start my new schedule this week. Not thrilled by it, but it's not like I have a life, ey? What difference does it make what hours/days I work? Just wish I liked my job. The one time in my life I had a job I adored, I could have practically lived there...what a difference doing what you enjoy, makes.

Anyway, no fun stuff today. Off to catch a bus to the laundromat and Walmarts. I toyed with going to the beach, but really, I can do that anytime in the next two or three weeks, no rush.

It's a sunny warm summer day, here in northeastern New York state. It's the "dark" day at the thoroughbred track in Saratoga--they don't run on Tuesdays, so the tourists will be flocking to the beaches on the lakes/rivers today, and the amusement parks and factory outlet shops. Best to just run around like a loon, doing some mundane chores, I decided.

There's a laundromat almost across the street from the Walmart--I don't like to go there, 'cos the seating is uncomfortable and the washers are expensive. So, I can start a wash run over to Walmarts to get some electrical tape and some band aids (sticking plaster), then bustle back over across the street to stick the stuff in the dryer. I hope it won't be too loaded down with tourists using the machines (there's several hotels/motels in that area).

I've two bags of dirties to do. Until last week, I'd been working 6 days a week for the last six or seven months, so it can be a bit tricky sqeezing laundromat time in. It's not like there's a place right next door to me...though there's one that's approx. a 15 min. bike ride from me, but I can only take one or two small loads at a time, that way.

So, I've got to book on out of here for a while. I hope you all are having a good Tuesday. Cheers.

It's the very height of our tourist season, here in northeastern New York. The posh and the chav alike, are hitting the race tracks, polo field, casino, cinemas, restaurants, beaches, boats, crazy golf courses, rodeos, whitewater rafts, horses, bicycles, campgrounds, factory outlet shops, hiking trails, amusement parks, etc. in droves, at the moment. Not as crowded as it's been other years, but still, a bit mad, at times.

I call it our annual "point and laugh festival."

Yesterday, I think I found this year's winnter (tho' there's still three week's left to go, before everything shuts and the tourons all trundle back home).

I was window shopping to pass the time in Lake George village, yesterday. Poking about the little tourist-gitchy shops, gawking at the tourists, like a redneck who'd not been more than a few miles from home in months--erm, OK, well, I was wearing a ladies tee shirt from Tractor Supply Company, with a pink tractor on it ("Tractor of a Different Color"), and, god help me, I really have gone months--even a whole year, without going more than a few miles from home since I've moved to this New York redneck city.

Anyway, I'd just come out of the Tom-Tom Shop (For the last 30 or 35 years, they've had a life-size dummy of an Indian chief in full authentic regalia, compeltete with headress, in the window. They sell moccasins and cowboy stuff amid the usual touristy kitch)--anyway, there's a pay-by-the-hour/day private carpak in the right side of plaza where the Tom-Tom gift shop is. The sidewalk in front of the shop is wide and flat. There's a little alleyway between the Tom-Tom and the shop to it's left, with a driveway that comes out onto the main street.

The entrance to the cough-up-or-walk car park was blocked by a minor tailback of traffic. Well, some touron couple with Quebec, Canada plates on their SUV decided they didn't want to wait for traffic to clear, apparently, and decided to take a detoir around the traffic--drove into the alley way entrance, and up onto the pavement in front of the shop--while the tourists were walking by.

Yup, as the tourists were moving out of the way, open-mouthed, yelling and waving at the oblivious Canadian pair in their shiny new SUV---I always said brains have NOTHING to do with being rich---the Canuks in turn, as they calmly drove down the flippin' sidewalk, merely gave the walkers scuttling out of their way a baffled look.

And the Touron Darwin award goes to---

Jeez. I see a lot of stupid stuff that tourons do--including speeding through zebra crossing with pedestrians in them, trying to deliberately spook carriage horses, letting their wee children run on the concrete retaining wall bordering the deep cold waters of the lake, adults standing on the concrete wall, with their back to the water, looking up at the trees/mountains...while stepping back...within inches of the edge.

Oh yeah. In Yellowstone when I worked there, it was worst--because the crust around the hot springs and geysers is only inches thick in places, and underneath is boiling hot water...and people used to ignore the warning signs and go walkabout. Sheesh. Darwin didn't know just how right he was. Actually, I'm of the opinion that we, when we compare our actions to chimps, may be maligning the monkeys.

In northern Vermont, a farmer saved the life of a baby moose, who had been attacked by a pack of dogs and then separated from his mum.

The moose, named "Pete," is now, a year later, too tame to be released into the wild. Used to being petted like a dog or horse, he follows his carer around--an old farmer with a white beard--like the family dog.

But this "Bambi" tale may not have such a happy ending.

You see Pete--and other tame native game, is trapped on a hunting preserve. What's bad about that, isn't that they will be killed in a "canned" hunt. No, the animals being hunted on the fenced private land, are non-native elk, imported from Wyoming and other western states.

The problem is two fold: 1. the state of Vermont has abruptly decided that native animals cannot be fenced in on private land--nor can the be allowed to mix with other non-native species, like elk.

The hunting preserve was started by a local dairy farmer, as an extra source of income--people come from all over to Vermont, and pay $50 to $60 each, to shoot elk in what as known as a "canned" hunt--the animals are not wild, but farm-raised, and fenced in, for the sole purpose of being shot for "sport" by a "hunter." They are not hunted to suppliment the food budget (as many hunters in the Adirondacks, do--use venison they get to help feed their families over the winter months), and this isn't for population control--to prevent overpopulation or disease or starvation, but purely for "fun."

...and 2. the elk are being fed special feed, and this feed--for reasons not explained in the article I read ( http://www.poststar.com/articles/2009/08/02/news/local/doc4a74b3fca0d19642175191.txt ) can contribute, allegedly, to something called "chronic wasting disease" which can devistate populations of deer, in northeastern states, such as Vermont and New York.

So, while the state of Vermont says they are "very open" to solutions for Pete and the other animals "trapped" inside the hunting preserve...right now, the state is talking about putting Pete and the other trapped animals down.

None of the animals shows any sign of disease. All are healthy by outward appearences. But, paranoid game warderns say that no one can tell an animal has CWD, until they show the signs of having it. There apparently is no test that can be done for it.

Vermont depends heavily on tourism dollars and license fees, brought in by hunters every autumn, who come from all over the world to hunt whitetail deer, wild turkey, black bear, moose and other species.

A while back, I'd been given a $5 gift card for Outback Steakhouse...well, tonight I was looking at it, and noted that it expires TODAY.

Uh-oh.

So, as it happened, I had a spare $10 this week in spending money (cos' I knew I was getting an extra day or two off). I've not felt much like eating for the past few days, so had no big meals planned--in fact, I was only going to make a sandwich for dinner, so it's not like I'd have to worry about meat going bad if I didn't use it, or whatever.

I hopped the trolley to Outback, got in my order (pork tenderloins with spicy glaze, garlic mashed potatoes and steamed seasoned green--aka pole/string-- beans. Meh, it was...alright. Came with a mini loaf of fresh baked bread and butter. I'm not entirely sure that a spicy chili glaze works with mild pork tenderloin, but I reckon for the $6 the meal cost after I used my card, I got my money's worth. That's about what one pays at McDonald's these days, for a so-called "extra value" meal.

While I was waiting for my food, something really...odd, happened.

Some guy I've never seen before in my life, walked past my table, stopped on the opposite side of my booth, looked back at me, and caressed--and I do mean, caressed, the edge of the table with his hand...before turning and walking out the door.

Wow, man. That was a trip and a half.

I think I'll just chalk that little bizzaro moment up to some free entertainment with my meal.

PBS (the national American Public Broadcasting System) has officially announced that it shall be airing David Tennant's film version of the RSC's Hamlet, some time next year.

Hamlet will appear as a special "Great Performances" broadcast.

PBS is free television in America, part of the Public Broadcasting Corporation, a not-for-profit network, which gets it's funding from individual and corporate donations, and a small portion of federal and state funding.

Unlike the commerically operated networks and most cable television channels, PBS is not forced to cater to the whims of the drooling masses and board room corporate executives who have more money than basic intellect.

Unlike commercial television in America that depends on advertising for its existence, PBS has a long-standing history of showing documentaries, children's educational programming (most notably, Sesame Street), concerts, British television programmes (such as Dr Who, Are You Being Served, Lovejoy, etc.), as well as opera and theatrical performances.

British television is a long-standing staple of PBS, since its earliest days, and of course Hamlet slots in nicely on PBS. It's especially a poetic choice for Tennant's Hamlet, as PBS was the first network to showcase Dr Who in the United States, back in the late 1970's.

While window shopping through the main drag of Lake George, I spied this tee shirt in a shop window, and for some reason, it suddenly gave me a fit of the giggles.

That's because it reminded me of my mum. Mum was a coffee addict of the worst sort-- I mean, I could NOT talk to mum, until she had that first cup of coffee in the morning...no lie.

When she got too sick to get out of bed in the morning, it REALLY wasn't fun, namely cos' mum had a tendency to wake up at FIVE AM. OK, and whom do you think had to get up and make that first cuppa' for her? Gawd help me if I overslept, too. Oh, that was a no-no. Mum would give a Dalek pause, if she was late getting her morning coffee.

Mum would go through coffee, like my late dad used to go through cigarettes, back before he gave them up, in the early 80's. Dad used to go through 4 or 5 packs of Pall Mall cigarettes a day, easily. Mum, she didn't smoke, but she chugged down ten cups of java a day, easily.

Anyway, saw this tee and it gave me a larf, remembering my mum and her coffee addiiction. I didn't buy the tee--it was $18...too costly for my budget. It's the anti-"life is good" tee shirt. (by the way, "crap" is NOT a swear word in America).

I just got a PM from a friend, bless, who was concerned cos' I hadn't blogged anything today.

I'm fine!

I began my day pedaling over to the laundromat with a load of dirties (I suppose i could go commando, but there's something in me that really prefers wearing clean pants every day.), then hopped a trolley to cash my disability cheque, then went and squared away my rent and my internet bill...then, hopped another trolley to do some shopping...stopping to treat myself to a fresh, cold lemonade and a stroll along the cool breezy lake front in Lake George village...and then, on the way home, remembered I forgot to pick up the milk and bin bags, so had to make yet another stop--and here I am, well knackered, sore-footed, but fine, I promise.

My toothache is much better today, as is my appetite. Whatever was ailing me over the weekend, seems to have cleared up a bit.

There was a lovely couple on the trolley bus in Lake George, a couple of pensioners from Scotland...in their Hawaiian shirts and sunglasses and hats...probably the only tourists in the mountains of northern New York, wearing Hawaiian shirts, mind you. However, they were staying at the Howard Johnson's Tiki Lodge, which inexplicably has an actual Polyneisan style floor show as their nightly entertainment, so I guess Hawaiian shirts would blend in quite well, there.

There was a moose sighting in my city, yesterday, just about three streets away from me. Someone spotted a young bull moose (those are the one's with the big antlers) wandering around the city cemetery. It disappeared before New York Conservation police officers could arrive to tranq it and move it back to the nearby mountains.

If it sounds odd that a moose would roam about a city in New York state, it's not, really. Here in my city, there nearest wilderness area is less than 10 miles away. You could walk to the base of nearest mountain in about two hours from my apartment--depending on how fast you walk...well, for me it probably would be more like 6 hours, cos' I limp, ha-ha. You can bike there in probably an hour or so. By car, it's maybe 10 or 15 minutes, depending on how fast you drive, what road(s) you take and traffic/road conditions.

Well, I'm all for a lie down, methinks. Whew, my bad foot is barking a bit. The top of my right foot gets all popped out (like a big lump) when I've been putting too much stain on it, and I can see I've overdone it a bit, just looking at it. Guess it wants a bit of a soak in some epsom salts, I reckon.

Hope you all had a good Monday. Cheers!

I took my meds just past midnight...and here it is half-past two in the morning, and I've only just realized that I'd already taken my blood pressure med for the day--around noon time, which I'm only supposed to take, once a day...but that was 12 hours beforehand, so....will that screw up my blood pressure, or not?

Well, too late now, any way, I suppose.

I also couldn't remember if I'd taken any Tylenol for my toothache, so I popped another one. Hopefully if I did take two before, a third one won't hurt me. Again, even if it does...oh well. No one lives forever...trust me, I don't care if you believe me or not (and it's not a bad thing not to believe this) but there are worse things than dying, so I'm not obsessed over forgetting my meds sometimes. The memory lapses bother the hell out of me though. Go figure.

My tooth was smarting a bit, and I was still a tad tired from yesterday, so I went off to bed quite early, for a change...only to be woken up at 12.15am, by the boys upstairs...hammering something. With a hammer...on the wall directly over my bed, apparently.

What in the bloody blue blazes is there to hammer after midnight, that you couldn't hammer during all day Sunday, or during the day on Monday? Unstinkingbelievable!

Anyway, wide awake at 1am.

I was just thinking that I should be famished, 'cos all I'd had to eat today was a single sandwich...but, I'm not in the least hungry. Diabetics are supposed to eat fairly regularly, but how can you, when food doesn't appeal--even when one is hungry?

I was starving yesterday, when I went to KFC for lunch...yet, I had to force myself to eat. I'm supposed to eat when I take one of my meds, but it can be really hard, sometimes, to make myself eat. For someone who weighs what I do, it's hard to fathom my loss of interest in food, but...that's life, I suppose.

Though I did enjoy the pepperoni pizza, last night. When I lived in Lake George in 2006, and even when I lived in the nearby town of Lake L____, I used to bop down to Capri Pizza for a slice or two. They've been around for decades, and make a really good pizza, there. I remember mum and dad taking us there for pizza when we were on a holiday day trip, when I was around 13 or 14 years old. There's another place in Lake George too, called Pizza Jerks (a gourmet pizza joint with a carribbean theme, hence the "jerk" in the name), they make an awesome pizza, as well--but I wasn't feeling up to walking down the side streets to get there.

I admit it, I'm a bit of a pizza-head, me.

It's just as well the teenagers upstairs woke me, 'cos I've realized I haven't taken my evening meds, yet. I probably could use a minder at times, but that's not ever going to happen, so if I miss my meds, or don't eat, or forget to do something, it's all on my head, and that's just part of my life that I have to live with, I suppose.

I still haven't found my phone charger, and am quite vexed about it. Until I do, for all intents and purposes, I have no telephone. It must have fallen behind something. I've always kept it in my lounge, so it must be here, somehwere--it's a small lounge, and I am quite baffled by the charger's disappearence. Maybe I'll find it tomorrow, if not, well, I'll have to rob Peter to pay Paul and dig up the money somewhere to get a new one...or maybe a new phone, whichever is cheaper--but, one more shot tomorrow...I'll try moving the small antique dresser in the morning, and see if it fell behind there. It's about the only place I haven't looked, other than the lounge closet--and yes, I'll search there, as well.

I'm now wide awake, and not a happy little camper.

OMG, it's now 1.21 am, and they're hammering AGAIN!!!

What the HELL is so important to this guy, that he has to grab a hammer and bang on a wall at 1.21 in the morning???!!!????

Jeez---I REALLY need to find a new place to live!

I just broke my bad tooth. I got the bleeding to stop, but now I think I may have partially exposed a nerve--it hurts a bit. Not unbearably so, thankfully, just...sore.

Well, thankfully I'm not working again until Wednesday morning, so I don't a have to talk for hours and aggrivate it. I don't have access to a dentist at all--I've only Medicare, and don't have much money to spare for co-pays--and nearest dentist that both takes Medicare and works on a sliding fee scale, is 15 miles away, and not on a public transport line. I'll see if maybe I can find someone at work I can pay, to take me.

There is a Trailways coach to/from Warrensburg, but it has odd times it goes--last I heard, only early in the morning and then well into the evenings. I can see what the schedule is. Wouldn't fancy being stranded in Warrensburg. It's just a small mountain town, off exit 23 of the I-87 motorway. There's not a heck of a lot there, and no where really, to hang out for hours on end--it doesn't even have a proper bus station, just stops at the local diner--which isn't open all day or at night...at least, it didn't used to be.

But---No hope for it, I will have to find a dentist--one that doesn't insist that he be paid up front, of course. How the hell am I going to do this? I can't afford this! Damn. Well, it's do it, or end up in hospital again, with another infection...no choice. But I am NOT a happy little camper, right now. I am beginning to see the appeal of dentures.

I'll have to tank up on Tylenol in the meantime, rinse it in warm salt water, and chew my food very, very carefully, so as not to aggrivate it.

Bother!

While my two friends are online, chatting about some massive Dr Who spoilers, I've excused myself (cos' I really do want to be surprised), and am going to do this meme that was sent to me earlier in the day.

It's a short one, I promise.

1. You are in court standing before the judge. You are in deep doo-doo. What did you do?

Went to a republican politcal rally, dressed as a black-Hispanic gay woman with a sign that reads: "God supports abortion and gay marriage, Darwin was right, and I'm here to take away your guns."

2. Your blog just became a best-selling book . What is the title of your book ?

"ZZZZZZ--!"

3. It is midnight. The phone rings. It is Michael Jackson calling from beyond the grave, what does he say to you:

"...damn it's hot down here, and I thought getting burned doing that Pepsi advert was bad."

4. You are having your future told. The fortune teller looks in the crystal ball, screams and leaves the room in fright. What did they see?

My deflated boobs at 80.

5. You're blogging along minding your own blusiness when Google unexpectedly puts a Objectionable Content Warning on your blog. Your own mother is afraid to enter! What, pray tell, did you do to warrant it? How did this happen? Do you think you deserve it? Just how objectionable are you? Do tell.

I'm a stright, non-drinking, non-drug using, non-sexual old maid.

Bascially, I'm a "non."

Do you really think an Objectionable Content warning would even be plasible?

6. You suddenly become God Of The Universe. What would your first Commandment be?

Thou shalt not vote republican/tory.

7. A celebrity has been regularly reading your blog, tell us who it is!

Pfft. Yeah, right. No comment.

8. You've been contacted to write a sit-com. What would it be about?

Dealing with social services.

9. You've been called by a total stranger out of the blue, and offered a dream job in the city of your choice. What job and where will you be re-locating to?

Writig, or helping people, radio work, working with animals/horses, librarian or tour guide or...I don't know. Any one of those would be lovely. Where would I live? Britain, America, the Netherlands, New Zealand--doesn't matter, if I have my dream job (and my pets at home).

10. You've an elderly uncle who's passed away, and left you enough money to buy the home of your dreams. Tell us all about your new dream home!

Oh, I suppose, ideally, a wee cabin or a cottage in the country, or a quiet flat with a bit of a garden, if in a city...even a caravan, would be fine. I don't need loads of room, and I don't need anything really posh..though some nice (matching) furniture to go with the home, would be lovely.

Oh for pity's sake!

I just got back home and checked my e-mails and comments, and wound up deleting a comment by some mook, over some bedtime meme I did a few night's ago.

One of the meme questions (I had to go back and read the post, 'cos I didn't even remember the question)--anyway, one of the questions asked who I preferred: Jonathon Ross or John Barrowman.

Now, as I've often said on this blog, I am very much not into celebrity culture--don't follow it, don't particularly care. Celebrity culture is sort of on the bottom of my "things I care about" list...right up there with sunbathing, watching baseball and reading romance novels. Bleh!

This person was all in a lather, and sent me this long, rambling manifesto on the wonders and beauties of being John Barrowman---including an entire paragraph devoted to the fact that the gentleman is gay---all because I said I thought Barrowman was an "OK guy."

OMG, what a terrible thing to say! What the heck is wrong with that???

I thought I was being honest--I think he's OK. OK as in...not evil, not a saint, just...OK. What in the blazes is wrong with that???

Jeez! You'd think I'd gaybashed the guy or something!!! I know virtually nothing about the man, other than he's Scottish-American or something like that, and that he's done musical theater in New York, and that he has dogs and does presenting I guess, on British television. In my world, that's not enough information for me to say whether I like someone or not...I think the man seems like an OK bloke-- What else am I supposed to say about someone I don't know??????

I don't follow celebrities. I don't get tele. I know Barrowman mainly through Dr Who and Torchwood. I know NOTHING about his private life (yes little fan-girl, I do know he's gay, so what? And I'm an almost 49 year virgin...who cares?)

I was going to respond, but couldn't think of anything polite to say to someone who was being so obnoxious and lecturing (I'm too old to be lectured by some tween, thank you very much). So, I rejected the comment. Life's too short to waste on idiots.

Meh--Barrowman's a grown man...if he has a problem with me calling him, "OK," he can write me for an apology, right?

______________________________________________________________________________

I hopped a trolley to Lake George--I decided I needed a break from tidying my room...you don't want to know what under my bed looked like. As some of you know, I'd been unwell for a while, and am just started to feel a bit better, so the housework has sort of been...minimal, over the past few months, and I'm using my time off to do a bit of (very) belated spring cleaning.

But hey, all work and no fun, makes playwrite27 a really, really crotchety old maid indeed. So, I decided to go back to Lake George, this afternoon, despite the light to moderate rain fall. I wandered around a bit. Some chav bimbo in a older model mini-van (people carrier) ran through a puddle on a kerb and doused me with dirty water.

The mountains were shrouded in mist, and fog lay over much of the 27 mile length of the lake--but, the tour boats were still going out, the Minne-Ha-Ha paddlewheel steamboat, and the mid-size Mohican tour boat were both out on the lake...there was a volleyball tournement on the beach in the rain...and, at the hotels, some people were in the pools swimming.

I don't get that. Now, I've been swimming in Adirondack lakes the cooler months--late May and early October....but...in the rain? Isn't that sort of pointless?

I mean...it's RAINING. You don't have to go in a pool to get wet, all you have to do, is go out onto the lawn or into the car park, and blinking stand there! If it's for exercise--go walking, bike riding--at least that way, you can wear some rain gear.

All I could think of, when I saw people playing in motel swimming pools, was, "what do they want to do THAT for?" Then I pulled up short. My gosh, I sound just like my late-mum! I mean, that's what she used to say to me, all the time, "What do you want to do THAT for, Nancy?"

Wow, man. Sounding like your mum. That can trip you out quite a bit.

If you agree with any of these statements, you might just be a neo-conservative republican thug:

Universal education is the most corroding and disintegrating poison that liberalism has ever invented for its own destruction.

The very first essential for success is a perpetually constant and regular employment of violence.

________________________________________________________________________________

If you are American, and agree with any of these statements--congrats! You've just agreed with flippin' ADOLF HITLER.

Yup, these are direct quotes from old Adolf himself. Tell me now that republicans haven't taken their philosophy from the German NAZI'S. If you say no, won't believe you.

yes, unbelievably, it's raining--AGAIN!

This has GOT to be the weirdest summer on record...it's rainy and cool one day, and is hot and sunny the next, rains the next day, is hot and sunny the next...very strange!

Good thing it was, that I went out yesterday, instead of today--I had thought to stay home Saturday, and go out Sunday, but then changed my mind. I hadn't looked at the weather forecast, and that didn't factor into my going out yesterday and having a bit of fun--I thought that if I went on Saturday, I would have three days to rest in, after. That I chose a weather-friendly day, is just purely coincidence.

I got home from my ride, yesterday, and had a bit of a lie down--for some reason, even though it was in the low 80's F, I seemed to have caught a chill. I got up and was shivering. Not sure what that was about. It didn't last, though I had a headache most of the night. I went back to Lake George around 7.30 pm, treated myself to a couple of slices of pepperoni pizza, and wandered about some of the little shops on the main street--the usual touristy clap trap, interspersed with some genuinely cool bric-a-brack.

Some shops had really far-out tee shirts--overpriced for my budget. While I love tee shirts, it would have to be one hell of a special tee shirt (like Dr Who, or something truly beautiful and/or unique), for me to pay 15 or 20 dollars for it! Almost all my tees I own in my tee shirt "collection", I got for 3 to 10 dollars.

I bought tinned cat food on sale, on Friday--and my wee ginger cat Flamey, has decided that she hates it. The two boys love it, but Flamey is whinging something awful. I had to feed her a tin of tuna, last night, as she was making my life a misery, pawing and whining at me, and staring at me reproachfully, all night long. Jeez-spoiled brats. Sometimes they eat better than I do!

So, it's cool and rainy this Sunday morning. I was going to stuff some dirties into my backpack and bike it on over to the laundromat, but...it can wait 'till later, I reckon.

I was toying with not doing Roasting David Tennant as a blog, any longer. I didn't think hardly anyone was actually reading it--and it is sort of a chore, trying to think of something that's even remotely humourous to write, every day. I still will steadfastly maintain that I am not the sharpest tool in the tool box of life, and trying to come up with something original to say, about some skinny Scottish bloke I know very little about, every single day, is difficult at times.

Gawd, I ache all over today. I didn't want to get out of bed, this morning. The cats made me. FEED ME! Crikey, it's like having Seymour the plant from Little Shop of Horrors in the house with you--three times over. Well, more like two, actually. Flame and Charlie will badger me to no end, but Boots is very timid, and it's almost like he doesn't like to bother me, and he has never pestered me for anything--except maybe a bit of a pet or a rub, once in a while.

Charlie is the laid back surfer dude type--you could set firecracker off next to Charlie, and while he might jump, he would probably just give you a look, flop down, and go back to sleep. My little ten-pin bowling ball with fur. God, he's getting so fat, I can't even pick him up any more, without hurting myself.

I didn't want to give the impression that I didn't enjoy my ride, yesterday. I did. I would enjoy riding if I was dying and on my last legs. There's a few things in this life, that I'm quite passionate about--Dr Who, horses, writing, nature, poverty and theater.

**(Oh, and reading/books, old films and history, also chalk up high on my list of interests.)

Nature is a bit harder for me to come by, now that I live in the city--but I still find ways to enjoy it. And, I don't get to do theater any longer, alas, that's out of my hands and my life, now. But, I am so, so grateful to have horses back in my life--even for just a short while--you have no idea.

Jeez--I just looked behind me and got a start. Flamey is sitting perched on the back of my desk chair, staring at me, and I didn't even know it!

I will be moving--hopefully before Christmas. I have no idea yet, where to. Either locally--possibly to another town/county nearby (my city I live in sits on the borders of three counties)...or maybe out to western New York. I hate this dumpy little flat--it wouldn't be so bad, but for the druggies, drunks and the nouveau-riche building manager--who will paint a hallway and staircase (without notifying tenants of the wet paint) and outside doors--but cannot bring themselves to change a lightbulb on an upper landing, knowing the tenant living on that landing (moi) is night-blind. One of these days, I may well have a bad fall, because when there's no light up on the top landing, I'm literally blind. I cannot see much of the upstairs hallway, and utterly cannot see the first two or three top steps...even in the daytime. It's just...black. Nothing. I have to go down three steps before I can even make out the stairs.

It took the landlords a full 13 months to change the lightbulb in the upper hallway--a lightbulb that's been out again now, for about 5 months. They keep saying they'll fix it, but I'm not holding my breath.

The plumbing in here is bad, the floors are sagging, the bricks on my outside wall on my balcony, have no mortar between them, in places. It's a genuine disgrace. Especially for $625 a month. The only thing I get for that, is these three dumpy little rooms--kitchen, bedroom and front room...oh, and I have only one working electrical outlet in my bedroom. Rents are loads cheaper in western New York than in northeastern New York state, so that's why I've thought about re-locating. Finding an affordable place, in a non-car owner friendly location, that will take my three cats--that's the rub.

Anyway, here I am on a Sunday, saddle sore and looking out the window at the rain. Had my bit of fun yesterday, so today I have to balance that out with some housework, I suppose. I envy people who can afford a cleaning lady.

Cheers.

It's nearly 6pm here, the end of a long but nice day. I had a heck of a time getting a bus, as the roads were jammed with holiday makers, caravans, people doing their usual Saturday shopping.

I had coupon for KFC, so I went there for lunch--$4 including drink. It was..meh. The "new" big corporate KFC post-Colonel Sanders isn't all that, if you ask me. But, it was cheap, and filling. My appetite is off again, anyway. I can be famished and still not feel like food. Not sure what's going on with me, guess I'll have to make a trip to the health center on Tuesday, if I'm still feeling...odd.

Well, how would I know that, I ask myself. I'm odd all the time.

Anyway, just missed the trolley coming out of KFC, so went across the street to Peter Harris Clothing to pass the 30 minutes waiting for the next one. Peter Harris is sort of like a small, local version of TK Maxx, in that they sell "famous name brand" quality clothing at a steep discount. They are in fact, having a 50 to 70 percent off sale, at the moment, on there spring and summer wear. I browsed. Saw a nice pair of trousers that were a bit unusual, cream and a muted gold in a tapestry pattern, for $8, and a lovely brown top with a beaded mandarin-style collar for $11

But, I didn't buy anything but a pair of socks, for $1.49. I have trousers and blouses enough, I don't need any more. However, I always can use socks. Seems like I'm always missing a pair at the laundromat. The laundromat is evil. The laundromat consumes poor innocent socks. Well....It was fun to try things on, anyway. And, that brown top was cut a bit low, for my tastes. Alas, playwrite27 doesn't have very good, erm--cleveage. I'm kind of an old biddy about such things, anyway. I don't think I could ever adjust to "bearing all," the way most women do. It's just not...me.

So anyway, yeah, I went riding after I went to the shop. I got the horse in the photo below. His name's Chubby. He's very clever and looks a lot like John Wayne's old horse, from the 60's.

CHUBBY IN THE PADDOCK:

Riding the Chubster was a bit of a pain in the arse to ride. He's not as nice a horse as the one I had last week, Bailey. Chubby has very rough gaits and the saddle I had a seat like an iron plate--god, my bum is sore!

They also made my stirrups too short. My fault, I should have asked the woman to lengthen them. They were hiked up under me like a rider on a show jumper or hunter. Good for posting, but not so good for western riding on steep and rocky and muddy trails. So, my foot and my bad knee are a bit throbby at the moment. Nothing I can't handle, it just gets a bit tiring, when I walk.

That's why I didn't hang around Lake George. I wanted to, but I didn't think my foot would be a happy camper, by the end of the night.

This morning, I re-shaped my cowboy hat, to a shape that I like. I changed it from it's original crease (style) to the "Gus" or "Montana" crease. The new crease just feels more like, "me." (As you can tell, I'm very big on being just plain ol' "me." May I be struck dead if I ever do anything "trendy.")

I changed it from this:

To this:

Two girls-what I imagine to be the European equivilent to Califorina mall/beach brats--- sat on the bus in front of me--foreign student workers. They then proceeded to continually turn around and stare at me, while giggling and whispering. Bambi girls, ugh. Proof that the feminist movement of the 60's and 70's was a lost cause, in the brains department--were women better when they were repressed, or worse? At the risk of sounding like total hypocrite, I vote better.

Yeah, you little air-headed Britney Spears clones, a grown woman is wearing a cowboy hat...I don't have to starve myself and expose my bum crack and bleach my hair to feel good about myself. Well, jeez--there's two candidates for the Darwin Awards.

How lovely the world would be, if people weren't so damn insecure about themselves, that they can't handle seeing or being around someone, who chooses to make their own paths to follow.

Yup, I'm off for a bit of a horseback ride, this afternoon.

I was a little under the weather yesterday, and truth to tell, not feeling all that hot today...but, meh. I slept in, and well--it's four days off, isn't it? I I've four days to rest and putter about the house in, so why the heck not go riding today--it's a lovely summer day, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, someone's getting married down the street...poor saps.

Anyway, still had a bit of the diabetic shakes this morning, and a headache, but my sugar's down a bit, so all's right with the world...so far, anyway.

Well, except for the fact that I went to put on my favourite ladies' western shirt, and found that it had a great whopping big stain on the front of it--why I hadn't noticed last time I washed it, I don't know, but the stain is such that it's been rendered unwearable, darn it. I really liked that shirt.

I've another western blouse, a cream one with brown horses on it, but it doesn't look as nice as this one--which is also cream, but with a motif of thin vertical stripes made of tiny roses. Maybe I can dye the blouse a darker colour, to hide the stain? meh-we'll see.

Anyway, can't wear the other western blouse to go riding, cos' it's in the dirty wash hamper, and wrinkled as well as dirty.

So, had to find some other thing to wear, at the last moment. I need a long-sleeve shirt, 'cos of the bugs in the woods. I don't feel like stopping to buy insect repellant, so the next best thing is to wear a long sleeved shirt for protection from bites. I opted for my old navy blue "Destination Saratoga" tee, with the running thoroughbred horse on it, and my old blue plaind blouse over it. It's a bit hotter than I'd like, but I can always take the blouse off, I reckon, if I get too warm.

I'm going to make myself a quick sandwich, and then wait for the trolley to come by, and go to the riding stable in Lake George. I may even treat myself to a wee ice cream, later.

So, guess I'd best stop lollygagging around (translation: larking about), and get my bottom into gear, ey?

Cheers, all.

Well, I copy-pasted this at midnight, but am only just now getting 'round to it, an hour later.

1. Cinema or DVD?

I haven't seen a new film in about three or four years (true), so I have to say DVD, I suppose.

2. Leonardo Di Caprio or Jude Law?

Jude Law, I suppose. I never was one of those women head-over-heels over Di Caprio. They're both wonderful actors...but I just like Law a bit better, I suppose. I often thought he'd make a good Dr Who, actually, ever since I saw in in Captain (something)and the World of Tomorrow. Bad script, good acting.

3. Jamie Oliver or Gordon Ramsey?

Jamie Oliver. I've seen youtube clips of both men, and my one and only impression of Ramsey, is that Ramsey's nothing but a loud, verbally neolithic, obnoxious prig. Compared to Ramsey, I found Oliver seems far more emotionally secure, and he also says something actually intelligent, once in a while.

4. Al Pachino or Hugh Grant?

Hugh Grant, I suppose. He's a terrific actor, though I've read he's a bit of a skirt-chaser. I've no idea if that's true. However, I know for a fact that Pachino was (perhaps still is) an egotisical cokehead, and he was very ill-mannered to me when I spoke to him once, and so I have a very, very low opinion of the little creep.

5. Matthew Fox or Jamie Foxx?

I've never heard of Matthew Fox, and don't know much about Jamie Foxx, so neither, I suppose.

6. John Barrowman or Jonathon Ross?

That Ross guy may or may not be a decent man in private life, but his public self is way too egotistical, infantile and petty for my own personal taste, so I'd have to say Barrowman. I think Barrowman's a bit infantile too, sometimes, but he doesn't hurt anyone with it, it's playful rather than mean-spirited....I really don't know much about either man, but to me, Barrowman seems like a pretty OK guy, really.

7. Simon Cowell or Orlando Bloom?

Who? Cowell--isn't he that sarcastic mook that judges those Idol thingys? I rarely ever watch tele, so I don't know him that well. Never heard of Bloom. So neither, I'd say. I don't know about that Simon bloke. I think Cowell would not actually make much of impression on me, if he actually is frequently sarcastic...as I've said, I find sarcasim in a man, very, very emasculating and demeaning.

8. I-pod or stereo?

I don't own either. I haven't a clue how an I-pod works, I barely even know what one looks like.

9. Britain's Got Talent or Big Brother?

Never seen either, can't comment.

10. Good book or great film?

Oh, that's a tough one! Well, as the librarian's daughter, I have to say a book, don't I? But, really, I'd say it's a tie.

After work tonight, I was wound and stressed and just didn't want to go home. Oh, and famished, too. I'd not eaten since noon-ish, and it was after 10pm.

So, I legged it--or rather, pedaled it, down the two streets to the city centre, to the Burger King next to the civic center. Then, I still didn't feel like going home--the rain finally stopped and there was a murky moon and stars, shining in the night sky.

So, I went to Beemer's Pub, the tiny little Adirondack-themed bar on South Street. It's the closest thing to a quiet little hole in the wall, in the entire bar district.

A couple of my co-workers hang there, so I wheeled my bike behind the building--taking care not to slip and fall in the mud of the empty lot next door, in the darkness...went in, ordered a lime and soda (I almost said "my usual" lime and soda, but that would imply I'm a regular, and that's something I've never been in my life, so that would be a bit of a misnomer...(hey, gotta' keep up that "crotchey old maid with no life" image, ya'know).

Anyway, I'm sitting chatting to my gay pal, who is regaling me with the lurid details of his latest behind the bar conquest (ahem), when another co-worker turns up. Before I know it, I'm being pressed by this other co-worker as to why I'm not dating, and how I really should loosen up and...yadda, yadda, yadda.

Oh, give me a break!

I LIKE being an old maid. I am just as comfortable with being "non-sexual," as my gay friend is comfy being gay, and this co-worker is comfy being a heterosexual.

There's more than one reason I am the way I am, it's partly very complex and complicated--and partly very simple--I just don't want to. I don't want to drink. I don't want to smoke. I don't want to party. I don't want to do drugs and I don't want to...you know.

Why, oh why, do people have such a hard time fathoming that?

I'm not trying to make a statement. I'm not trying to be "pure." I'm not trying to be better than anyone else, or holier than thou. No. And I do mean that. No. It's just...the way I am. It's me being me, nothing more, nothing less. I have this strong steak of stubborness in me, this intense desire to be my own person. I'm not sure why, or where it ever came from. But, there ya' go.

Now, for goodness sakes people, let the old maid be an old maid, yeah? It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it.

A 68 year old man in California visited an antique shop in his town and randomly purchased around a dozen old vinyl 45 records. It wasn't until he got home and looked at the labels on the records, that his jaw hit the floor....

...the records were his old mum's 45's, from when the man was a wee child!

Seems his mum and step-dad were very much in love, and loved to go dancing--at home and also at a club. At the dance club, back in the 40's and 50's, members brought records to play, and labeled the records with their individual names, so the records could be retuned to their proper owners, after the dances.

The elderly man doesn't remember who gave away his old mum's records, or when. He recalled seeing the records stored in the cabinet the phonograph was sat on, and remembers the records playing, while his mum and dad jitterbugged, waltzed and bopped their way from kitchen to the lounge.

Playing the records in his home, more than 50 years after they were lost, the old man said that it was like his mum "had returned to him." The man grew up in a totally differnt town from the town where he purchased the records. "There's a reason for this," the man said, "I don't really believe in ghosts, but who knows."

I sort of had something like that happen, once. When I moved from my childhood home in 1983, some of my boxes were stolen by the teenage helpers (my sister's dodgy mates). The two boxes contained my complete leatherbound set of "British Poets" from 1814, and also a box filled with various things I'd found and/or dug up from the land around our home---a milk glass egg (used way back wehen to encourage hens to lay), a few antique bottles, an old coin, an Indian arrowhead, etc. In 1990, I was working a flea market with my mum. I was strolling around the site, looking at what was on offer by other dealers--and there on the table, was--altogether, no less--two of my antique bottles, the old coin, and the arrowhead! My eyes just started out of my head, I was gobsmacked.

I negotiated with the stall holder over the price...I mean, he didn't know they were stolen, and I wasn't demanding he return them. Thankfully, he was incredibly nice, believed me when I explained that these items were mine and had been stolen...and of course, I think he could see how chuffed I was to find them again.

Ironically, three of the items were stolen again, when I was temporarily homeless for a month, in 1995. I had some of my boxes stored in my aunt's garage, and someone broke in and stole them. It just wasn't meant to be, for me to have them, I guess. Even more ironically, my aunt lived practically across the street from the village hall/police station...and, two doors down from my aunt's garage, was my dad's cousin's home--who was the village police chief. He always was a bit of a prat.

Well, my story isn't very romantic or interesting, but sometimes--life really can be a hell of a lot stranger than fiction.