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Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.
- Pueblo Blessing

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Saturday, Sept. 25, 2004 - 3:25 a.m.

Cost of the War in Iraq
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WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.

Kitty Washes Out my Days

Well, this is going to be a nonpolitical, this is my life entry. Yay for me. And yes I will respond to people's comments on those political entries. And yes, I know that DIU is not a felony, at least not the first two times. That is why I called the entry "fun loving felons and youthful misdemeanors" cuz it is a misdemeanor. But if you add Bush's one conviction to Cheney's two convictions, that makes three, which is a felony... they are just lucky they are not siamese twins.

Or that they didn't get caught more often. I mean Bush was fighting with his father about his drunk driving like eight years before he got his arrest, so I betcha he easily qualifies as a felon, just not a convicted one. hehe. God must love him and watches over him so that the police were lookin the other way all those years.

Ok, so here are some pictures of my kitty having a bath in the bathtub. Good kitty. That's why she's so sparkly and white, or rather fluffy and white and black too. And yeah, when washing, she moves alot. It's artistic, dontcha know!
Copyright 2004 Wench77

Well, I am feeling a little less discombulated and stressed with myself. I have nearly finished a drawing for some hardware store's inhouse magazine, and that is a good thing, since the sketch was due next Monday and the final for next Friday, and I am already nearly done. This makes happy clients, and happy me.

I have tackled the image I am working on to promote my website, after much procrastination.

I did a better job today of focussing on my comics, and got two pages done.

And I shelled a whole shitload of beans. Incredible how actually few dried beans a whole shitload of beans in the shell turn out to be. Dang. The cool thing is that the beans look different, so i can tell them apart. When they were in the garden, I couldn't tell them apart, so I didn't know which I was supposed to eat steamed with butter, and which I was supposed to leave to grow to maturity to make soup pot dried beans. Dang. So I ate only the ones i was certain of and let ALL the rest grow. And now I can see I have about equal seeds for yellow wax beans, green wax beans, and white soup beans. Well. I have learned, next year, I will put the beans with a row or two of parsley, or tomatoes or whatever between them... not one row next to the other. So confusing. I had labelled them with paper thingies but they faded in the sun. Next time.

Copyright 2004 Wench77
Yeah, well, so my friend Yogagirl is here for maybe two months doing a yoga/ thai massage class. It is nice to see her and weird to have someone in the house. I have to wear slippers cuz she said I walk too loud. She is not the first person to say I walk too loud. She also said the guy on the 2nd floor walks too loud. I admit I never hear him, but i am not often in my livingroom/guestroom.

I was concerned, after the Little Criminal lived here (since he said I didn't give him his space when he came home and I asked how his day was), that I would crowd her quiet space if I chatted to her too much after she came back from her classes, but today she said "I wish you'd invite more people over, I feel lonely, it is quiet". That is funny. She has only been here since Monday night. Tues night I ate with her, Wed night she brought a friend home (an old friend of hers lives a block away) and I made dinner for them, and then last night she went to visit him. And she is in class from like 8am to 5pm everyday.

Well, now we know I'm not weird to feel lonely living alone. I don't know when I would find the time to entertain all these people though, nor who these people would be. Most people who are my friends live quite a ways away, so it is one of those things you plan for, and they don't just drop by. And they are all very busy people, and quite a few of them in couples. So they visit family on weekends, go to the cottage, are in classes and rehearsals, doing shows or writing novels, or just watching videos at home after work. Believe me it is not so easy to invite people over. And timeconsuming.

One cool thing is that she said yesterday that it looks like a drag to be a landlady. This is when I was running upstairs to replace a washer in a tenant's tap, (and that didn't do it... the seating is cracked so I have to call a plumber), and another tenant was telling me his shower drain is blocked, and another tenant said that the stairs are wiggly. Yes, they are and I am trying to find a good wrought iron contracter to reinforce them. But also a screw was missing. With all those people going up and down, the screws that hold the wood steps onto the metal jiggle loose. I tighten them periodically (ie already twice this summer) but they are screws in wood. What can ya do. So my whole evening was gone doing stuff for tenants. Normally people say "but the building is such a good investment" when I say how much responsibility it is. It is nice to have someone notice without me saying anything.

It is nice to have a witness to all the shit I do. Sometimes I just feel super nonproductive. But I guess I do all sorts of things. Weeding the garden. Shelling beans. Making soup. Scalding swisschard and kale. Washing the dog, cleaning out closets for people who are visiting. Taking the stuff to a drop off for recycling. Calling contractors. Calling clients. Calling Fedex. Calling the SPCA to stop sending me unsolicited "complimentary" tshirts (on top of it, when I called, they said "oh yes, we have on record here that you called in March to ask to be taken off our promotional mailing list) uhhuh. Googling felons in the States. Reading emails about tax cuts. Making guacamole. Showing yogalady around the neighborhood. Washing backpacks and repairing them.

I dunno it never seems to end.

There is another girls' playparty here in town tomorrow night and I am supposed to be working at the door for an hour. I admit I have very little interest in going. But so that my social profile doesn't go completely flat I should get out. I am happy to meet L'Ecrivaine for brunch on Sunday though. It is SOOOO nice to meet up with friends I actually connect with. Yay.

In the park the other day I started to talk to one of the other dog owners about how everyone at the flamenco class was girly girl, and he was like "look I am not interested in hearing this... if you want to talk about the Indy 500 fine, but if not, I don't really care". Nice. Well, then this other girly girl arrived and incredibly enough started talking about the Indy 500. So I walked my dog elsewhere. This is the same dogowner who tells me I think too much anytime I mention anything happening in my thoughts or that I have read or heard. It is very annoying. And makes me appreciate my friends, and wish they lived closer than a bus and two subway trains away. dang.

I finally got an example of a book in the series for which I will draw the Dog Book, and somehow that simple fact takes away alot of the stress. I can see an actual finished object comparable to what I will be producing, so it makes it all more concrete in my head.
Copyright 2004 wench77
I can look at it, the layout, the size of the pages in front of my eyes instead of numbers "seven by nine inches, eight by ten inches, 24 pages, thirty two pages, three pages title" etc in my head. So I am less stressed out.

Egads I get all wavery when I feel many things are not concrete enough. I would rather have too many specific things to do than one or two nebulous things. Nebulous things are like amoebas engulfing my time and they feel like fog when I try to catch them. There, not there, there, not there. Grasping at fog is worse than grasping at straws I tellya.

I hopefully have figured out enough things for my father to do while he is here. Paint the balconies in the front. Paint the hallway from the second to third floors. Put the doors back on the closet on the third floor and put her kitchen cupboards back. Straighten the back fence which is falling down. See what he can do about the back door that sticks now the building is shifting. Put back the door to the basement he took off a year ago. (oh what will I DO without a loose door in my hallway showing off lovely 1960's brown psychedelic wallpaper??)

I hope he and Yogagirl get along fine.

Well, I had a few articles I've read to write about. One thing, is that there is a trial on for second degree murder for some 30ish guy (Eric Grenier) who called the ambulance for a small child (Sacha Vallee, 4 yrs old) who wasn't breathing. Turns out his heart was stopped... he had been hit hard enough that his body membrane detached from his body, mysentery or something, that holds your intestines. And he was covered in bruises.

That is sad. The saddest thing is that his mom was a 50 yr old single mom with a professional job who had adopted him from Russia. She wanted him to have a father, and she met this guy (who already had partial custody of his 18 month old kid) on the internet. Her kid normally went to daycare during the day, but the guy said "why don't you leave him with me for a week since I have the other child too, and I can get to know him better'. Apparently also the guy thought the kid was spoiled and overindulged, so he planned to discipline him a bit you know, in a fatherly manner.

The woman came home to the police having cordoned off her home as a murder scene. Yowza. How is that for shitty. The poor baby. First an orphan, then changing countries and cultures, finally getting a mom who loved him enough to "spoil" him, and then having his new potential dad beat him to death. literally. Horrid. horrid horrid. There but for the Grace of God go I. (not the kid, silly, the mom!!)

Well, I am glad that Andrew has changed the entry thing since last night.. now it puts a "P" when you type return twice, instead of two "br", and "br" if you type return once. That is great alround. Yay for Andrew!! Now if only worked. Maybe Andrew is tinkering with that too.

Well, that is my entry for today. That's it folks. Except that I learned that the dried beans of Scarlet Runner Beans are good for soup too. That is great. I can eat the "small" ones green, and all those ones I let get mature like the other three types of beans, I can use dried. yay. Who knew?

Goodnight, sleep tite, me,

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previous meanderings - future past

Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Taking Care of Your Cows - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Saint Joseph robs the cradle and eats spaghetti - Sunday, Jun. 14, 2009
sticky notes and broken irises - Friday, Jun. 12, 2009
The FOODCOMMANDER - Monday, Jun. 08, 2009


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