Registered Certificate

K sent me an email berating me for leaving you all in the lurch about my well being. Sorry, K!

Two weeks sober today, and feeling much better, thank you very much. Not depressed. The down side is that, like many writers, alcohol was my Muse, the lubricant that allowed my fingers to fly across the keyboard, and without it, I feel rather dull and uninspired. Hence, no posts.

I want to thank every single person who has sent me good wishes, especially Judy in Atlanta, who witnessed my first sobriety 21 years ago and assured me that I could do it again.

I have been knitting, and finished the rose colored socks last night. They are just plain vanilla, not photo worthy. And this morning, I picked up the Handsome Shawl from Victorian Knits Today that I haven't touched in weeks.

I have also been getting up at 4freakingthirty every morning, in order to get Sweetie off to the Glorious Job. Because we have plenty of eggs, he gets french toast every morning and sometimes fried egg sandwiches for lunch. Sometimes I go back to sleep for an hour or two, and sometimes I stay up.

With Sweetie gone, I am able to clean the house and it stays clean for more than ten minutes. I even oiled the living room furniture! All the little piles of stuff have been being sorted and reallocated to either its proper place or the trash.

I baked bread!

I have also been reading lots of stuff online. I don't know if every computer can do this, but my iMac  can be set to read text in a variety of voices. This is great for catching up on blogs, email, and also web sites. It allows me to listen and knit simultaneously, which is why those socks got finished.

I found a fascinating site that deals with the flip side of AA, the cult aspect of it, and have read (listened to) dozen of pages there. I am not powerless, and I do not believe in a personal god, and so, AA is problematic for me at the very least. I am the Problem Child in the AA chat room, but I am rather enjoying being a bit of a rabble rouser, which is so unlike me! What that means, I am not sure, except that maybe I feel secure in my beliefs.

I have lost some bunnies in the last month, which is sad making. Louise was Fuzzarelly's last remaining baby, and at five and a half years, she was at the age that many angoras die. Louise was a bitch, never my favorite, but it was still sad - and end of an era, in a way. I still have Fuzzarelly's brother, FuzzyBob, though. Another angora bunny just up and died, and two of the little babies died, too. I still have Tootsie and Jack (named for Jack White, of the White Stripes,) and they are fat little fellas.

Apply to affected area.

I am here and doing well. Really!

I have been busy this past week taking care of myself and not drinking. Without the alcohol to rinse the anti-depressant out of my system, it appears to be doing its job much better. Sober and happy, that's me.

Good news, too. Sweetie had a phone hearing with the the judge and his previous (evil) employer Wednesday, and we both were on tenterhooks awaiting the outcome. He received a letter Friday saying that the denial decision was reversed, and that his benefits were reinstated back to May 2!

The Evil Company does have 18 days to appeal that verdict, as would have Sweetie, if he had still been denied, so we are not out of the woods yet. But the mood around here is hopeful, and when/if he does get those benefits, it will all come in one lump sum.

(By the way, the Evil Company is a subsidiary of Snyder's of Hanover, so, don't eat their pretzels. As a favor to me.)

In other news of this past week, Crazy Neighbor the Instigator and his friend painted our barn roof with aluminum paint. Long story short, Evil Neighbor's friends got some spray over specks of paint on their piece-of-shit vehicles because they were too stupid to move them even when alerted. One called the sheriff to file a report about the "damage" to his vehicle, after he ascertained that I had homeowner's insurance, and he filed a claim.

Here is his paint damaged van.



I spoke to the adjustor yesterday, and their claim will be denied. She told me, as an aside, that if it had been either of us, we would have just said, "Oh, well," and gone on about our business. Bad luck, bone headed move, whatever.

The roof looks great, though!

Objects in mirror...

Millie helps with the baby bunnies.

Your results may vary.

Thank you, everybody. I am depressed, there is no getting around that, but some of you will know that my real demon is drinking.

Yesterday, I drank every beer in the house, all three cans, by ten a.m. then had a shot of brandy. I didn't even feel buzzed. Then I alternately solved sudoku puzzles and slept the rest of the day.

I'm slowly killing myself with alcohol. It is causing a few health issues that I am too afraid of even saying aloud or writing down.

The universe gave me a dope slap up side my head this past week, and I have been struggling against the truth of it.

I don't want to stop drinking because it makes me feel normal and I can't get through the day without it. Drinking deadens the pain in my life.

I can't keep drinking because, um... because, it makes me stupid and fat and depressed. And it's killing me. I'm beginning to not want to die. Fuck.

I really don't want to start going to meetings again. I struggle. I isolate.

It was about this bad when I first went to AA. It was Easter Sunday, and as I drove up to the noon meeting at the Dogwood Club, I saw several grizzled and haggard creatures lounging outside. I almost kept on driving, but didn't.

There were maybe 15 people inside, and they held a special first step meeting just for me, and I didn't take another drink for 16 years after that day. Goddamn it, I don't want to have to go through all of that again.

But I have to stop drinking. I have to stop killing myself. I have to stop acting in a reckless and criminal manner.

Please, you all, send me your love. I'm gonna need it.

Take as directed.

The nine signs of depression, according to WebMD. If one answers yes to at least five questions, look out.

A depressed mood during most of the day, particularly in the morning.
Lately, yes.

Fatigue or loss of energy almost every day.
Yes.

Feelings of worthlessness or guilt almost every day.
Yes.

Impaired concentration, indecisiveness.
Yes.

Insomnia or hypersomnia (excessive sleeping) almost every day.
Not so much.

Markedly diminished interest or pleasure in almost all activities nearly every day.
Yes.

Recurring thoughts of death or suicide (not just fearing death.)
I am not fearing death, nor contemplating it.

A sense of restlessness -- known as psychomotor agitation -- or being slowed down -- retardation.
Yes, retardation.

Significant weight loss or gain (a change of more than 5% of body weight in a month.)
No. I wish I could say weight loss.

And don't forget to figure in the drinking. A woman is considered to have a problem if she has more than three drinks at a time. Hell, I'm just getting started at three.

So, what to do?

Part of me is screaming out for help, and part of me doesn't want to make any effort. At all. But putting this out here on the blog is a start. I don't have any insurance right now, so that sort of help, therapy, more drugs, rehab, is out of the question.

Today and tomorrow is the fiber festival, and, apparently, I am not going to make it. At all. Sorry to everyone that was counting on me to be there. I hurt and I ache, and I can't bear the thought of being among people. I feel totally overwhelmed.

May Make You Cry.

Imagine.

Costumes for Sale!

Also offered on Louisville craigslist.

This is Sweetie in a fantastic vampire cape, made of purple/black heavy weight satin taffeta. The hem circumference measutes 30 feet! Stand up collar, to frame your lovely face. Neck medallion included, but not shown. Sweetie is six foot tall. $50 plus shipping.





This is yours truly, with dyed black hair, in an Elvirus Costume. Washable! Black stretch panne velvet, with bust pads. Fits size 12/14, 5'5" person. Very sexy! I am older and fluffier and will never wear again. $20 plus shipping.

Your Monday Morning Chuckle

The Day After Celebrate Laconia, 2009

Sweetie and Haliegh.



Me and Sweetie.



Our favorite Crazy Neighbor, aka The Instigator.



With his 11 year old daughter.



Haliegh and Brianna with their new bunnies.

Not an Application.

I had a little incident yesterday, call it a wake-up call if you will, that showed me I should up my Enthusiastimine™ dosage.

One of the Three Hateful Trolls that took great delight in tormenting me several years back made a remark to me that would sound harmless if taken at face value, and if it had come from just about anyone else. I was walking Princess, and halfway through the route, it began to rain. This Hateful Troll took the opportunity to drive, not down the street and avoid me, but down the alley I was in, causing me to step off into someone's yard to let him pass. I had no intention of engaging with him in any manner at all, so I stood there in the rain, and turned my back to him, hoping he would just pass. But no, he had stop, roll down his window, and tell me, "That dog of yours is gonna get you wet," before he drove on.

I know. Sounds benign.

One of the previous remarks he made to me, about six years ago, was, "I sure am glad that I have property for your dogs to shit on." If he has opened his mouth within my hearing, ever, it has been to spew vitriol at someone or something. Another time, he deliberately rutted my yard behind the barn after I wrote a letter to the editor defending his contribution to our community, despite the fact that he has two junk yards in town where he just keeps stuff. (He was a volunteer fireman, secretary of the water company, and general mechanic.) He's also a crazy ass hoarder, one of those people one reads about being crushed to death by newspapers in their own home, (one can only hope.) I have always tried to avoid him. But now, with Princess, I am back to dog-walking and being out and about the town and feeling vulnerable. Very vulnerable.

I'm not afraid of him. I know I could take him in a fair fight, but he is the type that doesn't play fair. He's an evil-tempered bully with a persecution complex.

He made me mad yesterday and I had no outlet for that anger, having never learned how to deal with anger in an appropriate manner. He made me cry and with all my heart, I wished to be gone from this town. If I had been a guy, or some other girl, I would have said, "Yeah, fuck you, asshole." But I'm not a guy and I'm not another girl, and I have tried that sort of thing with the Trolls, and I knew if I said, for example, "Shut the fuck up, Maurice, and get the hell out of the street," that the whole episode would have escalated into something I don't need to deal with. I got mad, went home, told a friend who didn't really understand all the backstory, and I cried a little bit.

So, upon reflection, I remembered that there is less daylight these days, and there will be even less sunshine in the next few months, and I remembered that I get into a blue funk this time of year, every year, like clockwork.

Time for more drugs.

Receipt is Acknowledged.

Sweetie is still employed, although the company is so new that they have no refrigerator or microwave, and he thought it prudent to bring in a roll of toilet paper when he didn't see a reserve supply.

Yesterday, they handed him a beverage cooler with two outlets in it, and told him to install them. "Where? And to what wires? I can do wiring, but I need wires first."

He seems to be thriving in that environment, though, and I am likewise doing quite well. Imagine my Enormous Grin.

What I love best about him working is the quiet here in the house. (Well, the money is technically in first place.) Not silence, because there is that mockingbird on the chimney, a little traffic noise, the roosters, high flying jets, the breeze rustling the brittle leaves, a distant dog barking, the indoor rabbits licking their water bottles, and the electric hum that seems to always always in my head. But it is quiet.

My body and my brain are happy.

Like Knitting Linguist wrote in comments, How can I miss you if you never leave?

I am not to the point yet of missing him, but that will come with time.

Not For Ophthalmic Use.

Fabulous Monday!

As much as loved having Sweetie home after he was fired at the end of April? I love it, and him, more now that he is back working at a real live job. First shift? I don't care. I actually am a morning person, and I like going to bed early.

Already today, this morning, I have done more than in the past week. Also? I can drive and take pictures for my other blog.

I am so happy! Plus, we now get a weekly paycheck. Which is important, because we cannot count on his getting back unemployment compensation, no matter how good his case. It is the judge's call, and the hearing isn't until October 21st. Rat bastards.

I have updated my stuff to read sidebar, and I steal this from Bizzaro Blog, my new favorite read feed.

Here are a few of my followers. Thank you all.




And, this this sweet thing, too.

Your Home Town Agent

I am of an age that I took Home Economics in seventh and eighth grades. My teachers pretty much hated me because I was such a bored wise ass and I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

One of the things that we girls (there were only girls in Home Ec back then,) were taught was Egg Safety which mostly consisted of breaking each egg separately into a cup before adding to the recipe. I thought it was the stupidest, most time wasting thing I had ever heard of. Eggs came from the store, and they were never bad. Jeesh.

Now, I have chickens. Five hens that mostly lay their eggs in the chicken tractor/coop and I collect them daily. (Thank you, hens!)

I finally got around to weed whacking today, since Sweetie hasn't had the time, (ahem) and I found a cache of seventeen large brown eggs from my two big girls. I had no idea how old they were, but I was loathe to just throw them out. I mean, seventeen eggs! Really. A shame to waste all that protein.

But were they still good? That was when that 1971 home ec lesson came home to roost, so to speak. I cracked open the oldest looking ones, the ones that had been at the bottom of the pile, one by one into a little cup. And they were all good.

My apologies to those hateful teachers. Even a blind nut finds a squirrel once in awhile.

We are eating a late lunch of eggs today.

Handle With Care

Look at that little baby! So tiny! So fuzzy! So cute!

And the bunny isn't bad looking, either.

May Cause Spasms in Legs.

It's Good News Thursday!

First, I discovered seven baby bunnies outside - seven tiny and fluffy bits of loveliness that seem to have both angora genes from Steve and dwarf genes from Smoky via Claudia. I captured them, way way too easily, and will keep them safe inside for three or four weeks. Right now, they are bite sized snacks for any and all predators. Bunny McNuggets. They are so absolutely adorable.

And Sweetie? He got himself a JOB and he starts Monday! It seems to be a good job, too, doing the maintenance mechanic thing at a paper recycling company in Louisville. At a pay scale of about what he had been making, and, with insurance. Yippee and Yay! Fuzzarelly gets her house back!

I picked up three adult angora bunnies from Brigitte Guffey yesterday, who is downsizing her animal operation in order to focus more on the fiber mill. She and her husband John will have a booth at the Southern Indiana FiberArts Festival October 16 and 17.

Finally, and I do mean finally, at long last, our Evil Renter has moved out. Court date was yesterday, and I have to say that I really respect and love our Judge Davis. The room was packed with people, but he methodically went through every case and got to the heart of each one in record time. He didn't put up with bullshit from anybody, and with evictions? There is a lot of bullshit flung about. Our case was heard, Evil Renter was there, facts were stated and so the judge asked if both parties would settle and call it even. We said we would, but the Evil Renter said no, he wanted to fight us. The judge was taken aback, but whatever, another court date was set for November to thrash it out.

And I just got an order from The Woolery for more Bunny & The Beast!