Werewolves 'R' Us

October 13/09

2009-10-13T10:16:25Z

In the past seven months I have developed a head 25% full of grey hair, and now a rather matronly behind. Mom always told me I'd have trouble keeping weight off once I hit middle age. She didn't tell me it would happen overnight, though. Bad dog, no cookie. The butt has got to come off. I think I've got fat deposits in my brain.

Quest 2/September 20/09

2009-10-13T10:15:28Z

Lets start with the bad news: I weigh 125. I put it on like a girl, too, so I have a fluffy butt and thunderthighs. None of my jeans fit, not even the stretchy ones I wear if I know I'm going to have a few beer. I LOOK pretty good, I think, but I feel like shit. Most people seem to think my discomfort is hilarious--"OOH, you put on 15 pounds? You're just OBESE!" (insert eye-rolling and guffaws) But the thing is that more weight equals more allergy meds, more salbutamol, more labetalol and atenolol, because anytime I go over 118, 120 or so, they almost quit working entirely. Actually, I have a list of allergy pills as long as my arm that now will not work for me at all. And, it's been a miserable allergy season to begin with.
My libido is still down, but it's better than before.
Getting decent sleep didn't last, I'm back to 4-6 hours at a time, and unfortunately I'm having trouble staying out of bed for more than 12 hours at a time...and three of those are spent vegging. I'm dog-tired, which is at odds with the fact that woof has the wind in her tail and wants to run and play and run some more. It's funny that I've been a night owl all my life, and now that I'm working all nights, during my nights off, I can't stay awake. I need iron. I know this now for a fact, but I refuse to take iron supplements. The most readily absorbable iron comes from red meat, the rarer the better, but the only meat I have in the freezer is venison, and I will NOT eat it raw. Even if I had the energy to shop, the stores are not open when I'm awake, so I have to get Pete to do the bulk of the grocery shopping. He tends to pick up stuff I can't afford. I want to send him for a cheap beef roast (the leanest cuts are the cheapest, which suits me just fine). You can make a LOT of steaks (blue rare! YUM!) out of 12 bucks worth of eye of round. But I know if he can't find it, he'll come back with whatever he can find, and chances are good it would be 30 bucks worth of top sirloin or something. Potatoes and spinach just won't cut it. I may have to pick up some multivitamins or something. Blechhh. The good news thus far: I actually have enough boob that I jiggle when I jump up and down. I'm a double A. I'm pretty sure the new boobs will disappear, however, when I get rid of my new ass.

Qureast, July 28/09

2009-07-28T09:05:40Z

I remember being about 7 years old and asking my 35-B mother when I would get breasts. She gave me a pat answer borne from her then-perpetual discomfort of all things even remotely
sexual: "When you're older". I remember being on the far side of 9, and having her stare at my naked chest and comment out of the blue: "Your breasts are budding". I looked down and
saw that my areolas were indeed slightly swollen and protruding, unlike they had been before. I thought perhaps my time for a "training bra" may be coming soon. 3 years later, 5 inches
taller, 55 pounds heavier and already 8 months into the menstruating community, not to mention a lot of up-close-and-personal sex and gender education and never having gotten past the 'bud' stage, I began to accept that my chances of ever having real 'womanly' boobs were slim to none. I began to wear falsies...at least I could stand up straight, as opposed to hunching and flexing(at this point I had some pretty impressive pecs for a 12 year old girl, and I was able to use them somewhat to my advantage) to hide what I didn't have, and push out what I had. The falsies made my chest look a small A, but I felt and looked much more feminine. They tended to shift, but I fixed this by pinning them to the inside of my bra. Why spend $15 on minimally padded bras when you could spend $3 for regular ones and $10 for the pads that you could switch between bras?
I'm going to cut this story a little short for now, because at that point in my adolescence rumours abounded, things became very painful and even dangerous for me, and suddenly I was
reliving some of the most painful memories of my early childhood and spending way too much time analyzing myself. In retrospect, my conclusions are the same, but that's neither here nor there. I cast away many of my ingrained, brainwashed mindsets, but never managed to let go of the desire to have 'womanly' breasts; to be able to put on a proper fitting AA bra and not have it gape! To have my chest fill out ANY sort of normal female underwear. I've never been athletic, but I had the torso of, well, a dude, just from splitting wood a couple of times a week. It didn't help that I enjoyed arm-wrestling and regularly beat guys twice my age.
I always feel like a silly twit for wearing bras at all, but I do it because my boobs are hypersensitive (and not in a good way) and my nipples poking out of my shirt is not only embarrassing, it's BEYOND uncomfortable. My official bra size is a 35 AAAA, but they don't make those for women, and even if I could afford custom, I don't care THAT much. I can wear a 34 AAA... Most of THOSE are made for young girls who don't (and never will) have the developed upper body I have. Same with 34 AA. They either chafe, give me a tiny uni-boob, or both. Plus, they cost more than 'standard' sizes. So, I wear readily found but ill-fitting 34-A padded bras.
During pregnancy I made full 34AA in size, and breastfeeding, fully engorged with excess milk, I was almost an A. Mammaries are not what make breast size however--men have them as
well (yes, this means that if you happen to have a penis, you are also potentially capable of breast feeding), and luckily how well you can feed your children is not dependant upon breast size at all. Size is basically a result of estrogen receptors in the breast controlling fat deposits. No matter how much weight I put on (as my mother suggested), I will have no boobs. Being one of those people who can gain and lose weight at will, I tested this theory up to a point. I get very physically uncomfortable over 120 lbs, so if I had to reach, say, 130 to get boobs, well too damn bad. I'd much rather be comfortable than curvy. Shit, I'm 5 foot 3. I know my health fairly well, and my current 114-soaking-wet is just fine.
I threw away the falsies years and years ago, having come somewhat to terms with how I am, but I still wear padded bras most times. I hate to admit it, but hypersensitivity notwithstanding, my nonexistant boobs somehow make me feel like less of a woman. It doesn't help that from the waist down, I look like an average, slightly-out-of-shape 30-something
woman, but from the waist up, I look like a 16-year-old jock dude. I still haul and split wood (maul and sledgehammer) three seasons of the year, though less often all told than once a week. That's the only heavy work I do. Ever.
Off and on through the years, I considered surgical augmentation, even though I personally could tell the difference from a mile away. I can only imagine what they must feel like, or act like under athletic conditions. However the possibility of a loss of sensation was mildly attractive to me--I would have boobs AND I could go braless! There have been three times in my life I was able to readily afford implants. I'm still a carpenter's dream. But lately, my vanity (or whatever you want to call it) has gotten the better of me again. Surgery is not an option, and even if it was, my answer is a resounding NO. I don't want to be unnatural or risk being ugly. My non-surgical choices boiled down to taking cow hormones or phytoestrogens.
A month ago after much research I decided to give a specific herbal regimen a try. I ordered a 4-month supply and am following it rigorously. As recommended, I have also increased my
already high-protein diet and I'm 'trying' to eat more foods that are "woman friendly" like oats and soy. I am also taking all my body measurements--bust, chest (inhaled comfortably), waist relaxed and sucked in, top of hip and bottom of hip; so that I can see if there is any measurable gain and if it is in proportion to an overall weight gain or water retention, or if it is cyclical in synch with my monthlies. I'm going into this expecting very little except for a 250 dollar dent in my pocket, and perhaps a little 'reliable' anecdotal evidence whether yay or nay. But, hope springs eternal, and silly superficial Jan is hoping for boobs. Just an A. An A is all I ever wanted, but if all I get is to fill out an AA, I will consider it a success and will buy a new bikini top to wear next time I go swimming instead of fully clothed in jeans, padded bra and t-shirt .
I've been taking the pills and using the cream for a month now. I try to take it at the same time each day, but as with other medications I take, I often feel like I forgot to take it at all, so I take it again, which means that some days I'm pretty sure I've doubled up.
The sides of my boobs under my arms are mildly sore, but so far that is the only boob-related thing that is out of the ordinary, and I certainly can't point to anything other than normal
hormonal changes as being the cause. Another unusual thing has been that for the past two weeks or so, I'm able to get about 7 1/2 hours of sleep per day. IN A ROW. Decent, solid
sleep, maybe only getting up once for a pee or a snack and going right back down, but mostly IN A ROW. More than 3 or four hours at a time is a rarity! I doubt phytoestrogens would
have caused it, but I don't care. I just generally feel SO much better sleep-wise than I have in a very long time. I have not gained any weight, but I seem to have lost some muscle tone in my upper body (NOT a good thing) and my behind is most definitely wider than before. This is most likely due to the fact that my current job can be very calisthenic but certainly not
weight-intensive: but I'm mentioning anything unusual for posterity. Another maybe-side-effect is that my libido has suddenly gone through the floor in the past three weeks. I have
almost no desire to get off, and when I try, it takes longer and is much less intense. Obviously a little more disturbing than the sudden ability to get decent sleep! For now I'll just take the sleep, but I know from experience with other medication side-effects that if my libido stays low for long, or especially becomes non-existant. I will not be happy no matter what other benefits I gain. I kind of think like a guy in that respect. It's certainly not the be-all and end-all, but I like to get off. Hell, it took me long enough to figure out how to do it consistantly, so I hate it when something messes with my groove. If all these new developments are due to taking small amounts of herbs that happen to be high in substances that mimic human hormones, I'm very damn glad I didn't buy the prolactin stuff.
But anyway.
I decided to try it, and I'm taking measurements. I should do pictures too, but I haven't done it yet, so a month in, the pictures may be worthless, scientifically speaking. At the end of the four months, whether or not I get some boobs, I will post the company name and most likely end my quest for breast. Hey, at least my boobs will never sag!

July 19/09

2009-07-19T15:47:28Z

Burn it to the Ground- Nickelback

Well it's midnight, damn right, we're wound up too tight
I've got a fist full of whiskey, the bottle just bit me
Oh
That shit makes me bat shit crazy
We've got no fear, no doubt, all in balls out

We're going off tonight
To kick out every light
Take anything we want
Drink everything in sight
We're going till the world stops turning
While we burn it to the ground tonight
Oh

We're screaming like demons, swinging from the ceiling
I got a fist full of fifties, tequila just hit me
Oh
We got no class, no taste, no shirt, and shit faced
We got it lined up, shot down, firing back straight crown

We're going off tonight
To kick out every light
Take anything we want
Drink everything in sight
We're going till the world stops turning
While we burn it to the ground tonight
Oh

Ticking like a time bomb, drinking till the nights gone
Well get you hands off of this glass, last call my ass
Well no chain, no lock, and this train won't stop
We got no friend, no doubt, all in balls out

We're going off tonight
To kick out every light
Take anything we want
Drink everything in sight
We're going till the world stops turning
While we burn it to the ground tonight
Oh
We're going off tonight
To kick out every light
Take anything we want
Drink everything in sight
We're going till the world stops turning
While we burn it to the ground tonight

Tired, June 10/09

2009-06-10T09:13:35Z

So very tired. i have tonight off, and called in sick the previous two. three nights in a row. Out of each 24 hour period I've slept at least 14. I'm ready to fall into bed yet again. I'd blame it on the hot weather making my heart act up, except we haven't had any. It's actually been pretty chilly. I'm hungry every 4 hours like a friggin baby, which prevents me from going to sleep and wakes me up if I'm already snoozing, which doesn't help, but plowing my face full of half-decent food is not helping the tired thing. I don't want to try iron supplements on the chance i'm anemic again--they make my guts very sad, so going there is a last resort. wolf wanted to play about an hour ago and i squelched her yet again because IM SO TIRED. I haven't had a shower in a week.

windwalkingwolf @ 2009-06-10T05:11:00

2009-06-10T09:12:11Z

Yikes, May 15/09

2009-05-15T16:46:20Z

I have several "blogs". I say pretty much the same thing on all of them--yay copy and paste. The redundancy is because websites, even well-established and or respected ones have the tendency to go down the tubes or completely disappear, and so do my hard drives and data backups. Yeah, my computers and my disks have the tendency to suddenly stop working, so I put everything of myself, online, everywhere. I've lost too many unreplaceable photos and unrewriteable journal entries at redundancy x4 including 2 paper copies. So, it's x 10 now. Here's my post.

I've got a really wonderful nude photo shoot almost all in place. It's been about two years in the planning. Without giving too much away, I've bought almost all the items I need (paints, draperies, etc.), selected the locations and micro-organized pretty much everything. And it's a good thing I did, because there are a couple of hitches that are keeping it from becoming a reality. The first, and most obvious one, is my own reluctance about 'appearing' nude, nude or not--If it was just me, I could do it, I think. I'm no Cindy Crawford (as evidenced by the comment on my first 'nude' attempt which said something to the effect that I looked like a boy), and if I was too embarrassed, I could just NOT post the photos. Which leads to the second problem. I've done two short dry runs of the shoot, during which I have learned two things: Number one, to get the effect I want, I need a second person to paint my back and backside. I thought I could do it on my own, but it doesn't look that great, and I don't want just frontal shots. Number two, to get the SHOTS I want, I also need a second person, because I am going to be fairly high up in a tree for some of them, and although I can get a remote for the shutter, I can't get one for camera positioning or shutter speed settings. I intend to use only natural light. I don't have the time to keep climbing up and down the darn trees, as much as I would like to. Most of my time is spent working and sleeping, so when I do this it has to be fast. Which means I need someone to help me. There is only one person in the world I can ask, one person I know who wouldn't make this about sex in any way shape or form--my sister DancingRain, and I'm embarrassed to even ask her; we both grew up in a very prudish, stifled environment, and I'm not sure it wouldn't embarrass HER to paint my buttocks or see/photograph my genitals and breasts (such as they are). I don't even think she's seen me nude since I was ten, and her memory of her childhood started to go missing around 1986 or so. Which kind of means she will be "seeing" me for the first time, IF I ask her, and IF she says yes. My own hangups are making me want to run and hide at this point, so I'll shut up now, but you get the point.

April 28/09 I, Robot

2009-04-28T17:16:46Z

So, for the past 5 weeks I work midnights at a coffee shop. It's been a revealing experience. I LIKE my job. I LOVE to make customers happy. Most of our customers at that time of the night and day are regulars, and I'm enjoying getting to know them and managing very well not to throttle the two regular assholes (and occasional random assholes and drunken idiots) that come in. I fake "I'm so glad to see you" very well, and the genuine smiles it earns in return are worth A LOT to me. Makes me smile for real.
But just in case you thought I wasn't going to whine and bitch, let me allay your fears.
The owner and head manager are SO anal and controlling, they're making my sphincter hurt daily, just thinking about it.
We cannot wear ANY jewellery, not even earrings, unless it can be hidden and quieted (e.g. a pendant has to be under our shirts and taped to our chest), fine. I took off my necklace that holds a lifetime of totem trinkets, and my grandmother's ring. No big. I know where they are.
If we don't have short hair it has to be held up and off the collar, fine. My hair is so wispy tying it up is useless, but I put my hair in a half-bun (doubled over ponytail) since it's long enough that a simple ponytail won't work to keep it off my collar. I don't have ponytail rings so I use elastic bands.
Work provides our uniforms, but they didn't have a belt small enough to fit me and had to order one. Apparently a 30 inch waist in a woman 5'3" is something of a rarity these days, fine, except the manager measuring my waist was my height and was very obviously bitter about her own 48 inch waist. I nodded and made appropriate faces.
A belt is needed, because otherwise the radio pack for our headsets will drag down the side of our elastic-waisted pants and our shirts may come untucked, which is FORBIDDEN. Fine. I throw on a temporary belt.
Head manager started ragging on me the NEXT DAY, and multiple times since, about the belt I HAD to wear from home (I actually had to borrow one from Peter since I never wear belts, and it had *gasp* a buckle!) and hinted I should buy a new one. I demurred and finally I got a "company belt" three days ago. Then, I walked in for work, hadn't even punched in yet, and I got "spit that gum out of your mouth" from said anal head manager. I was confused, since several other employees CONSTANTLY (and obviously to the point that it's gross) chew gum, but I did it. Then, there's a discreet refferal to the "store policy handbook" which is the size of Encyclopedia Brittanica, about my hair: buns are not allowed, it has to be ponytailed, and since several paragraphs are dedicated to the definitions, I am able to determine that apparently my hair was being held in a bun. I let out the ends of my hair and hope the hair net keeps them in. (It doesn't). But, I'm conforming, so if you find hair in the cream cheese on your bagel, blame Liz, because she seemed happy my hair was 'by the book', in an official ponytail and looked like shit sticking out of the hairnet everywhere. To me, anyway.
Then another bulletin goes up: barrettes, scrunchies, hair clips, bobby pins and rubber bands are not allowed, it HAS to be a ponytail band. In a "NATURAL" colour, so that it can't be "noticed", and gave a huge list of band colours that weren't allowed! They left us with blonde, brunette and redhead as colours for PONYTAIL BANDS!
It's supposed to be about uniform presentation to customers, but THEY never see the back of our heads! NOW, I've got to go SHOPPING for specific hair accessories? Fucking ridiculous!
That's just the tip of the iceberg!--the only thing they DON'T have us (mainly me, it seems) doing at this point is goosestepping and heiling Hitler!
Even the most straightlaced conformist would have trouble with this bunch. And let's just say I am NOT. I'm debating shaving my head yet again, see what they say about THAT. At least I wouldn't have to worry about the length I would have to cut off (3 inches) to keep it off my collar, and I wouldn't have to go shopping for freaking colour-specific (BROOWWWNNN) ponytail rings. The only exceptions they allow are people who have to wear a hajib or turban for religious reasons. I'm tempted to change my religion. I would still have to stick that jaunty sun visor on top though, bald, hajibbed or turbanned. Wouldn't THAT look cute! HEH HEH
Oh, yeah, and for all this bullshit I get paid minimum wage, and somehow only managed to get paid for 74 hours for two weeks when I worked 90. Fucked up. But, my choices right now are this job or completely dependant upon welfare, which won't give me a red cent if I get fired. Sieg Heil!

April 10

2009-04-10T04:55:37Z

The Rocky Road to Dublin, The Irish Descendants style

In the merry mont' o' June, From me home I started,
Left the girls of Tuam, So sad and broken hearted,
Saluted father dear, Kissed me darlin' mother,
Drank a pint of beer, Me grief and tears to smother,
Then off to reap the corn, Leave where I was born,
Cut a stout blackthorn, To banish ghost and goblin,
In a small new pair of brogues, rattlin' o'er the bogs,
Frightened all the dogs,On the rocky road to Dublin.

One, two, t'ree, four five,
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack-fol-lol-le-ra.

Well, in Mullingar that night, I rested limbs so weary,
Started by daylight, me spirits bright and cheery
Took a drop of the pure, To keep me heart from sinkin',
That's the Paddy's cure, Whene'er he's on for drinking.
To see the lassies smile, Laughing all the while,
At me curious style, 'Twould set your heart a-bubblin'.
They ax'd if I was hired, The wages I required,
Till I was almost tired, Of the rocky road to Dublin

One, two, t'ree, four five,
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack-fol-lol-le-ra.

Well in Dublin next arrived, I thought it be a pity,
To be so soon deprived, A view of that fine city.
So then I took a stroll, Down among the quality,
My bundle it was stole, In a neat locality;
Something crossed me mind, Then I looked behind;
No bundle could I find, Upon me stick a wobblin'.
Enquirin' for the rogue, They said me Connaught brogue,
Wasn't much in vogue, On the rocky road to Dublin.

One, two, t'ree, four five,
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack-fol-lol-le-ra.

Well from there I got a way, Me spirits never failin'
Landed on the quay As the ship was sailin';
Captain at me roared, Said that no room had he,
Then I jumped aboard, A cabin found for Paddy,
Then down among the pigs, played some hearty rigs,
Danced some hearty jigs, The water round me

bubblin',
When off Holyhead, I wished myself was dead,
Or better far instead, On the rocky road to Dublin.

One, two, t'ree, four five,
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack-fol-lol-le-ra.

The b'ys of Liverpool, When me safely landed,
Called meself a fool; I could no longer stand it;
Blood began to boil, Temper I was losin',
Poor ould Erin's isle They began abusin',
"Hurrah me soul," sez I, Shillelagh I let fly;
Galway boys were by, And saw I was a hobblin'
Then with a loud hurray, Joined in the affray.
Quickly cleared the way, For the rocky road to Dublin.

One, two, t'ree, four five,
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack-fol-lol-le-ra.

March 23

2009-03-23T18:00:10Z

Approximately 1 PM

Sometime yesterday, while the boys and I were out getting water and wood and doing laundry, Eric's go-cart was stolen out of our backyard. His prized possession, the one thing he begged me for every birthday and Christmas for years, until I had finally had the money to get it for him. I possibly wouldn't even have known for days, except a neighbor (J.N.) from up the road stopped Pete and told him that J.S. had tried to sell it to him. J.N. is going to talk to the boy and his parents. Apparently he pulls shit like this all the time. If it's not back in my yard by tomorrow, I'm going to have to call the police. I'm itching to do it right now, because the longer I wait, the less likely I will be to ever see it again (I don't have the $2500 dollars to replace it. I don't even have TWO dollars), but at the same time I'm not looking forward to the ensuing energy-sucking experience of having to put on the proper societal mask to use the phone and talk to the police who will, most likely, eventually show up at my door.Words cannot adequately express what I am feeling right now. Heartbroken comes pretty damn close. I am so upset. Eric SO doesn't need this shit. Today is his 18th birthday.
I don't know what to do anymore.

Approximately 11 PM

There is indeed a God, by whatever names or concepts you may use. Somebody was smiling on us today!
By 2 O'Clock I couldn't stand sitting on my thumbs any longer. I went looking for it. I combed the 4-wheeler trails, on foot for over two hours. The trails should have been ICY, but guess what? There were the carts' distinctive tracks all over the place, and the machine (which was never meant for such rough terrain) had churned the trails into muddy soup. No sign of the cart, so I came home and called the police, and Dick. The police said they were sending someone over, and I'm still waiting, so it'll probably be at the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow. Dick came over and chatted up all the neighbors--he knows them, I don't, and he (unlike me) has no compunctions about accusing someone of stealing without proof. He actually browbeat a confession out of J.S. with the help of the boy's parents, and I discovered that he's been in trouble for stealing before. J.S. shortly came down to my house, apologized, and offered to show us where to pick it up. It's in rough shape--it was never meant to be a dune buggy, much less on such narrow trails--they blew a belt really badly which knocked loose the guard and tore wires out, one side panel is completely gone and the other is smashed to bits, one tire will no longer hold air, the mud guard under the engine is broke in half, and the safety flag on the back was snapped off. There is too much dried, frozen mud on it to tell if the frame was bent or shocks blown. But, it's certainly nothing that can't be fixed, and the kids' family offered to pay for it as they can. The boy's ( I say boy, but age has nothing to do with it--they are both Eric's age and plenty old enough to know better) partner in crime, however, hightailed it as soon as he heard the police were called, and apparently he's ticked off at J.S. for "caving". He wanted to sell it. HIM I may or may not want to watch suffocating to death on his own blood. But because I'm feeling charitable, I may or may not be satisfied with watching him puke it for a few days. So...It's back, and though I'm going to owe Dick for this one, my relief eclipses the badness of it all. And, if that's not good enough news, I got hired at a Tim Hortons (coffee and doughnut shop), starting Wednesday evening. If I said customer service was not my strong suit, it would be the understatement of the millenium, but for the paycheck I can smile and fake it until something better comes along.
Either way, I end the day on a high note, if an exhausted one.

March 21/09

2009-03-21T16:56:45Z

Dick used to get work thrown at him on a regular basis. A lot of work. Good jobs paying decent money. He refused 99 % of those jobs because "it isn't what I want to do". He's perfectly content to let other people house and feed him while he waits for the elusive grail. As a matter of fact, he prefers it that way.
Me? I can't even get a callback about a midnight cleanup job at a Doughnut shop.
Bitter? Who, me? Nah.

Yeah, pretty much

2009-03-15T05:06:08Z

My OkCupid Dating Persona Is...

The Maid of Honor

Deliberate Gentle Love Master (DGLM)

View my profile: Wolfthrope

Find out your dating persona, take The Dating Persona Test!

Mar. 9/09

2009-03-09T07:03:39Z

It's approximately 1:30 in the morning. I'm in the living room sorting laundry and folding socks (hey, I'm a night owl, always have been. Get over it). The boys are long fast asleep, Eric since 10:30 and Peter since 11:30 or so. Suddenly, loudly and clearly, I hear Eric calling me. "Mom?" Except it sounds as if he's calling me from outside my "back" doors, the patio doors off the kitchen, instead of his room just down the hall. Clear as day, as if he had an important question to ask. I say "What?" no answer, so I go to his room, knock (no answer),open the door and shine the flashlight in. He's sound asleep, and I've NEVER known him to talk in his sleep, not even the nonsensical gibberings most people are guilty of. OK, so maybe it was Peter, though he'd have to be yelling...knock,wait, walk in, shine flashlight...also sound asleep. Also not a "talker", though even if he was,I would not have heard it because of where his bedroom is and the fact that while Eric's bedroom has heat ducts from the living room, Peter's does not. I look out the back doors, where I thought I heard Eric's voice coming from. Nothing. I must have imagined it from the sighings of the wind, or in-season cats yowling outside. I go back to my sock pairing, separating holey ones. Within seconds, I hear Eric again...this time, "Mom!", unmistakably Er's voice, addressing me specifically and urgently.
It sounded again as if it was coming from outside my back door, which from the living room (where I was) is almost directly opposite me, about 20 feet away. Someone needs something/is in trouble/something is wrong! I shout "what?" thinking my first check was grossly mistaken or that Eric had promptly fallen back to sleep after calling me the first time. No answer. Check kids again and go out back door, straining to hear something, ANYTHING except wind. Wind refuses to sound like Eric or make any noise that resembles "Mom". I KNOW Eric is not calling me, nor Peter (Their voices sometimes sound quite similar) I grab the flashlight (I'm rather nightblind most of the time), run to the back door again and peer out, looking for tracks, something, anything, and, seeing nothing, take the flashlight around the house. Nothing. Nothing but high-power elemental wind. Not even a 'yote singing in the distance to break the wind noise.
There are several explanations for this occurrence. Drawn from my own personal knowledge and experience, the most reasonable one is that I experienced a brief and (hopefully) transitory auditory hallucination. It would be my first fully auditory. While most likely, I'd rather it not be a hallucination (or "an" hallucination to you backward American folk who think 'h' is a vowel or something) The second one is that Eric's pour soul needs more nurturing than I am providing and is calling to me from sleep, which makes sense, because he's so worried about our financial situation that he's having panic attacks and has become so hypochondriachal that I'm having a HUGE time not just being annoyed by it.
The odds that the wind could sound exactly like Eric, specifically calling me, TWICE, are incalculable.
And, while I believe in spirits and "ghosts" (though my definitions are probably very different from yours) That wasn't it. It was not angels, and certainly not demons. All that is left is me, I think, and the fact that I'm not dealing well with the stress in my life. But then again, I've had worse stressors than the breakup of a marriage, and I didn't hear shit.

windwalkingwolf @ 2009-03-06T02:21:00

2009-03-06T07:21:24Z

Going through my living room. Going through my closets and drawers. Haven't yet tackled the two bookshelves, except to stack his crap and my books and (truly important) papers to make a little more room, but that'll be next, along with the shelves that hold photo albums. Keeping stuff I know he'll miss tomorrow or three years down the road, burning the rest. And there's a LOT of it. I've only done most of one room so far, and I've burned about two garbage bags full of old bills, receipts, packaging and CRAP. I've put about two regular-sized grocery bags full of this stuff in my woodstove every day for a week, and I haven't even finished my living room, which is about 12 x 20, including my front entranceway. I am reading every old bill, ticket, receip, notes, jotted phone numbers, magazines, notebooks etc. one by one to sort into a "send to dick" pile, a "necessary or wanting to keep" pile and a "burn burn burn" pile. The burn pile is winning 1000/1. I stunk out my neighbour today burning this shit. He actually came over and complained, and he NEVER complains. He is the most tolerant, easygoing guy you could ever hope to meet. Old magazines smell much worse than a chunk of maple or elm apparently, and give off ridiculous amounts of smoke, especially, I suppose, when you burn three at a time along with a few random Q-tips and some odd packaging bits that never got thrown away for some strange reason. If I had an incinerator, this would be faster.

I can now get into my coat closet for the first time in three years, and we've been here less than five.

Don't get the wrong impression--it's not just paper junk that was cluttering this place up (a lot of that was mine, but if I don't need it for reference or taxes then burn burn burn purge purge purge) it was boxes of parts for a boat that will never see the water, bits of machinery and electronics that will never work, boxes of candy dishes and books about real estate law, boxes of baby things that he was given and deemed too good to give away, boxes of (LP) records that we already have, sometimes in duplicate or triplicate, all things kept because he "might use them someday" or "they might be worth money someday". A floor-to ceiling stack of non-functional stereo equipment, because he will 'fix' it someday. Gone today, from the one room.

Today, the living room mess is mostly gone, since he picked up a trailer load today. He "tried" to adhere to my "front to back" rule so that I can at least tidy and fix a room at a time, but, the main bedroom is looking even rougher than normal...I discovered the floor on the south side has sunk almost 4 inches and will need to be shored up, as my nother would say, "the touter the suiter" (from the French tout de suite, meaning fast), and I never would have discovered that if dick hadn't moved out his boxes o' crap and never-used desk from that room. The kitchen looks pretty rough too, as one mess is displaced to get another one out the door. He collects old appliances, anything silver plated and art glass among other things, namely pretty much everything.

But, sooner or later, it WILL be out the door, or burn burn burn.
I've heard more than one comment about my house being disgusting, smelly, untidy; mostly, ironically, from dick's family. Pretty hard to vacuum around 10 boxes of SHIT, but the messy house was always MY FAULT 'cause I've got a twat, I guess, and couldn't bother to dust a bazillion items that were never meant to be in a house in the first place. Funny, that.

Last month, as the END of my 20 year marriage started to sink in a little, I felt as if someone close had died. It got bad enough that I wanted to die myself. Now? This month I want to PURGE. It's taken and taking all I've got not to throw EVERYTHING out into a huge pile in the backyard or onto the creek and light it on fire. I want it gone, and I want to watch it GO. NOW.
I feel like I should be sad or something. All I can feel is elation that I can see my walls and floor and doors (at least in the one room) again. Today, I feel better than I have in a long time. Tomorrow, today may well smack me upside the head. Experience has shown me that although I feel relief RIGHT NOW, I will pay for todays physical and emotional journey in spades. But, either way, this stuff needs to be sorted through, outta here, garbaged, burned. It's 2 in the morning and my neighbour is asleep, so burn burn burn

Feb. 27, 2009

2009-02-28T07:13:31Z

I haven't been online in over a year. The reason? No phone. Much has happened. My marriage is over, the only remaining step is to make it official. Dick spent the last four years pretending I didn't exist (unless he wanted money or sex) and I gave him his wish. I went back to work at GHM last August, and was laid off the day before my birthday, just when bills were almost caught up. AT least we waylaid the eviction demons. I've got a phone back thanks to F-ing gov.'t money (YAY!) but power could be years yet. I'm broke. Completely. I've had to apply for Social Assistance (mimes hanging herself). Peter's part-time salary doesn't even cover the cost of the fuel it takes to get him to work. We are living off of whatever we can beg or borrow. January was a very rough month for me emotionally: for the first time ever, I almost wished I didn't have children so I could put a gun in my mouth with some measure of peace. February has so far been marginally better. Right now, I just want to be able to flush my damn toilet without melting snow or collecting rainwater. Then, clean my damn toilet. And my sinks. And my skanky ass. Three hundred steps at a time.

Two Partridges in an Apple Tree

2008-01-08T22:46:19Z

I've wanted to blog for the past few days. I wanted to whine about my health, the weather, whatever. You know, the usual :) But, unable to organize my thoughts into anything resembling coherence, never mind eloquence, I decided today to simply blog about the first thing, if any, that happened of note. As it so happens, there were two unusual things that have happened so far today.
The first is that Dick woke me from a dream where I and a couple of friends were doing Tarot readings for each other, to look out the window at the apple tree that's there. In it was a bird, either a partridge (also sometimes known as a grouse, bobwhite or quail depending who you ask) or a willow ptarmigan in summer colors. I don't think ptarmigan come this far south, and even if they did, they would most likely be in winter colors, sooo it's a partridge. Either way, it's a rare sight in my backyard. And, as I watched it idly pecking at bark, another joined it and an argument ensued. VERY cool, but since I had gotten out of bed WAY too fast (thinking the house must be on fire or something) it didn't even occur to me to grab my camera and I flopped back into bed.
The second thing happened when Eric got home from school a short time ago. He emptied his lunch bag of garbage, and in it was an envelope with his name on it. In the envelope is a note saying simply "Eric, God loves you" and two twenty dollar bills!! So now I'm going through notes from teachers and looking for any of K's (Peter's girlfriend and the most likely suspect) notes, looking for a handwriting match. I love a good mystery, and Eric loves poutine, so it's been a pretty good day so far :)

Turdy Tree

2007-12-19T15:58:02Z

This is Lambie. His birthday is on December 25. He is 6 days younger than I am :)

Eyes in the Dark: One Moon Circles

2007-12-19T15:32:50Z

I fell asleep sometime between 4 and 4:30 this morning. Pretty usual for me--I've never been able to condition my body clock to sleep during 'normal times'. What's UNusual is that I stayed asleep until 2 this afternoon! I slept solidly for about 10 hours! I didn't even get up to pee, unless I got up in my sleep...that has happened before; maybe I better go check the corners of my room :P...funny story behind that, though I wasn't very amused when I found out at the time(s). I don't feel particularly well rested, but I'm not overtired, either. Maybe it's just the last hurrah of the cold I got that settled solidly in my ears. Something odd has been happening around here. I'm seeing animals that aren't there: In my peripheral vision I will see a strange cat at the door or window, asking to be let in, or wandering around inside the house...turn my head to look and it's gone. (This happened to me years before, but it was a cat I KNEW, and I stopped not-seeing him when I found him) I've also seen large shadow-dogs standing around or racing across my back yard at night...dogs that move like the wind and make no sound on the snow. The only dog THAT big around here is me :) . The corners of my eyes have caught a couple humanimal-shaped shadows at well, but only inside so far. Watching me. Either these things are actually there, just beyond the range of my normal sight, or they're NOT there and my melon has reached new levels of screwed up. Or maybe old levels, like an LSD flashback...I had a similar hallucination once while undergoing a drug trial (the legal kind) -- out of the corner of my eye, I watched a stick figure dance across the room in mid-air. I remember thinking the same thing at that time, which was "shouldn't this be scaring me?" Well, it's not, and this time I'm quite happy to have it stay that way. At least until I see something to be scared OF. *shrugs*

Good Day

2007-12-08T21:11:51Z

The Doctor's appt. went pretty much exactly as expected, thank goodness for small favors. I was not subject to (much) poking or prodding, and didn't have to go into any history that was not related specifically to my thyroid. The only downside is that he wants me to have an ultrasound every six months, starting now. I intend to weigh the pros and cons of that each time I'm supposed to schedule the appointment. Starting now. I'll get this one over with and then we'll see. I think. At least I don't have to swallow anything radioactive. I had a few extra dollars and decided to pick up a bottle of 40 on the way home. The result of my $5.50 spending spree was World War III after Dick and Peter got home, and a very satisfying hole in the bathroom door...and then I went outside to blow off more steam, froze my bum, came back inside, drank my Old English and wound down, and we all made nice and lived happily ever after. The bathroom doors need to be replaced anyway, have since we moved in. The problem seemed to be that Dick thinks I should not buy myself beer, ever, since I'm the only one that drinks it, and his father's an alcoholic, and he hates liquor and blah blah blah. I should buy something we can all enjoy. He conveniently forgets that he buys himself chocolate or soda nearly every day. I will concede that often the kids share the chocolate and/or soda, but as a general rule, I do not. So I will buy something for ME. End of story. Besides, going to the doctor means beer at the end of the day :)

I got a phone call from a friend today. It doesn't happen often, so it generally stays with me a while when it DOES happen. Usually in a good way. This is one of those times I feel loved. :)
As a little added bonus, I've got nearly all the laundry done and hanging to dry. My carpet is in desperate need of a vacuum, having not seen one in several months, but I'll save that for another day.

Another Day, Another Dollar Spent

2007-12-04T17:14:48Z

The rage is leaving. I don't have adequate words to describe what a relief that IS, anymore than I could adequately describe what it WAS. There is still a constant level of irritation, but...words fail me. I suppose you could liken it to slamming your finger in the car door. The door won't open, and until it does, you can't think of anything else but the all-consuming pain in your fingers. You will do anything to make it stop, and like a wounded animal, you are capable of anything until it does. When the car door finally does open, your fingers may hurt just as much, but in a different way...and the relief at getting out of the jamb is HUGE.

I finally have that long-awaited appointment with the endocrinologist this afternoon. Actually, it was supposed to be this morning, but they called me as I was literally ON MY WAY OUT THE FRIGGIN' DOOR and rescheduled for 2 this afternoon. I'm already pretty sure I know what he's going to say, since the cyst is calcifying and therefore stable. He will say surgery is unwarranted unless it begins to grow again or starts to hurt. I think he will say this because I went through something similar with a ping-pong ball sized ganglion in between the bones of my forearm. This is just fine with me...I don't even notice it anymore. I wouldn't even bother going except it took me months to arrive at that decision, and months longer besides waiting for the damned appointment. I am so NOT looking forward to driving in/on this snow. Especially since one of the tires is soft and I have no way to blow it up. I should probably leave soon on the very real chance that I will have to crawl there at the speed of smell.

My Mother's Voice

2007-11-19T23:05:55Z

I'm out of tobacco.
So? You need to quit anyway.
I'm just getting over being the crankiest I've ever been, and I know that if I quit I risk being cranky again.
So? Think of the money you will save. Besides, it's all in your head.
It costs me less than $20 a carton. It's pretty much free if I smoke butts, which I've been doing for several days now. And, of COURSE it's all in my head. EVERYTHING is all in my head, just as everything you experience and percieve is all in yours.
That's disgusting, don't you know how bad that stuff is for you?
Of course I know.
No you don't, or you would have quit years ago.
But I enjoy it. A lot.
How can you enjoy something that is so bad for you, and makes everything stink besides?
I just do. Smoking just feels damn good to me, and it keeps my hands and mouth busy so I'm not pulling on my hair, picking my lips apart, or jamming food I'm allergic to into my gob.
You should take up knitting. So, what will you do now that you're out of your precious coffin-nails? Wouldn't this be the perfect opportunity to quit? They'll kill you, you know.
Well, if I get desperate, I'll go comb parking lots and sidewalks for butts I can roll. Shit, I've been doing that on and off since I was 11.
That's disgusting. It must be even worse for your health that way. I don't get it. I quit in one day and never looked back. Jesus could help you if you let him.
I know you don't get it. Now, I want a cigarette more than ever.

Nowhere to go

2007-11-16T17:56:23Z

The last time I was this...angry, whatever, was when I found out that my sister's then-boyfriend had been abusing her. If I had left the house that night, I would have killed him, there is no doubt in my mind. I remember nothing I tried worked, until I started pouring beer down my throat and was drunk enough that I physically COULDN'T kill him, much less drive to his house. Luckily by the next day I had enough of a handle on myself that I realized what a colossally BAD idea it would have been. Knock alcohol all you like, but it saved several lives that night. I had never been that...enraged before, nor have I since, until the past few days.
I am THAT angry again. There is no one person I can direct it at thankfully, but unfortunately it's leaking all over everyone and everything. I've considered actually going to the hospital several times. For the thought to even cross my mind, it has to be bad. I'm afraid someone is going to get hurt, and it will in all likelihood be me. It's bad enough that I start to pant and I constantly feel like my head is going to explode. I'm kind of worried I'm going to give myself a stroke. I've got it all planned out what I'm going to SAY at the hospital too, if I get desperate enough to go..."My head is pounding and I rarely get headaches. I don't think my beta-blocker is working anymore" (because I think it may be true--betablockers basically blunt the effects of adrenaline. They also keep blood pressure down, and I'm pretty sure that right now, mine is...NOT). It sure as hell sounds better than "If this doesn't stop I'm going to start poking myself with sharp objects until the rage and depression lets up or I bleed unconscious". Either way, I'll most likely end up with a prescription that I won't be able to fill, but one of those ways tend to get a lot of unwanted attention from social-worker and psych consult type people.
I know this will pass. I just hope it's soon. It's just too weird.
In the meantime, if I'm avoiding you, or I snarl at you, please don't take it personally. I apologize. It's not YOU. It's everybody :/

Nothin' to Do

2007-11-13T20:52:00Z

There are some things I want to wax eloquent (HA!) about. I had one such topic all written out in my head earlier today. The reason why it's not here, now, is because everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING is pissing me off right now. The most innocuous thing annoys me, and for the rest, there are people I want to stomp until they wish they were never born. It's all I can do to be nice when no harm is meant. I don't suppose nice is the right word, more like it's all I can do not to be a raging slavering bitch from hell. Let's not even talk about the people who are SO FUCKING STUPID (and the situations that are) that if they yanked a dogs ear and the dog bit them, they'd blame it on the dog. People who wouldn't know their ass from a hole in the ground if shit didn't come out their ass six times a day. People who, if they had mad cow disease or rabies, you couldn't tell. Yeah, I think I'll wait until I'm a little less rabid myself.

October's Energy

2007-10-22T18:53:51Z

I've been doing some "energy body stimulation" work nightly for a month or two now. Basically what this this entails is you focus awareness on a target body part (say a thumb) and draw imaginary lines all over it, until you can "feel" the sensation of a line being drawn. You practice this until you can target any point on (or IN, for that matter) your body and progress until you can do whole-body awareness all at once (I haven't got there yet, I'm having a lot of trouble with my spine and upper torso). What this does is stimulate muscles and nerves into pre-motor activity. It feels like whatever part of your body you are 'working' on is starting to fall asleep, or is in the end stages of waking up. It's supposed to be healing and anti-inflammatory. The book I've been reading about it said explicitly to avoid drawing energy in or near the genital chakra, which I have scrupulously followed--but the effect on my libido has been...interesting, and the energy work is the only thing I can ascribe it to. I have discovered, to my amazement, that I HAVE a libido. Before, I was happy to, uh, service myself once a month, and even that I could take or leave. Now? For the past month or so I've been what can only be described as horny, two or three times a week and sometimes daily. I'm not sure whether or not to be happy that I'm more "normal" sexually in terms of frequency, or be annoyed at the inconveniences this presents. I'm leaning WAY towards annoyed.

Sigh

2007-08-19T01:45:19Z

I've got to pick Mom up from the airport tonight at midnight, which means I've got to go out in about an hour. This also means I'll be going home tomorrow, back to no power and dial-up connection. *sighs again*

I suppose there are a few things to be grateful for--I'll be able to sleep in my own bed again (whoohoo! I HATE coilspring mattresses, and that's all Mom has), I'll be able to smoke in the house again (I resent being forced to smoke outside), and there was one other thing but I promptly forgot it. *SIGH*