Me and Donnie in the deserted dining room tonight

 We  had a project. Well. Donnie had a project for me. Doesn't he always? He needed a new carry bag for his scooter. We sat in the dining room chatting while I sewed. I brought my laptop and was playing some punk rock when Miss Viviene and that fucker Teddy wheeled in and Viv started crying loud as hell, because my music was 'mean and it scared Teddy!" Shit. I was afraid staff would come running and think we did something to her. She's so fucking loud. She sounds like a chain smoking bullhorn..I asked her what she wanted to hear and she spits out "Charley Rich.'' What the...are you kidding me? Okay, stop crying. "Hey, have you seen, the most beautiful girl in the world, who walked out on me...'' Yeah, she prolly walked out because of that stupid song. Vivianne sang along and she knew every pitiful word. It was the awfullest thing I ever heard. I put 

on Tammy Wynett and Viv knew all her songs too. Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, Conway Twitty, Lorettee! It became a game and she won. Gawd. I'll get a picture of her for you next time. I'll try and get Teddy too, but, I doubt the smelly little fucker has a reflection. PS. If I wanna go toothless and not brush my hair, you can't make me.

"You will remove that post and you will NOT post again!'

Look at me, two posts in two days. How about that? I think I may be getting into the swing of things again.  I never delete this place because it's pretty much the rusty, dusty junk yard of my brain. I thought maybe someone in my family might want to know who I really was someday..maybe. I am in here. The stats I was reading said this is my 21st year. Could that be possible? I have literally grown old on this site. I have raised a child here with the advice and laughter of my friends. I bought a house and redid it  right here. Animals have come and gone. Photos of everything are on here. Now, I have entered into the next and most likely the last stage of my life. I have a shattered skeleton and stage three kidney disease. I live in a nursing home. I am still here and planning on going nowhere soon. I'm still pretty independant, especially compared to most people here. The worker bees leave me to my own devices and I am getting to know them on my own time. I heard a few of them talking about me today, they always forget I don't have a hearing problem, and they were going on about how funny I am and how much fun they have when I have to intereact with them. I'm glad they like me but, anyone can be hilarious talking about the Depp/Heard trial. "Ms. Heard, did you tell Mr. Depp to suck your dick? Amber: "Yes, I most certainly did." I mean, these people are unreal and I'm still not used to the way we can put trials out to the public now. Right on daytime TV. I'm showing my age. I still remember when a married TV couple had to have seperate single beds and now they show pictures of poop in Johnny's bed right on the screen and play recordings of people telling each other to suck wanky doodle. I can't look away and I can't stop laughing. I stop laughing and smiling when I hear about how the fuckers are closing women's clinics all over Oklahoma, shutting off reproductive choice for not only that state, but, once again in Texas where the women who had to drive over the state line will now be out of luck as well. Councilers talk about panic attacks when the women find out their proceedures are cancelled. I'd be panicked as hell. I'm too old to panic, but, my rage is there. When I hear about women being controlled and the disgusting forced birthers getting their jollies by being ''morally'' right about someone elses medical decisions, I could easily fly into a rage of proportions never seen before. I am not even joking. I said on someones FB post that this is the hill I would gladly die on. Oklahoma's govener, Stitt, I believe his name is signed off on a ban of all terminations and shut down clinics because of Corona. What the fucking fuck? That shit make zero sense. If you feel ill, shouldn't you go to a clinic and be tested?  Or do these fuckwad, weesel dicks like Gov Still think that termintions are all women's clinics do? I'm sure they will have a lot more Corna infestations because a shit ton of women don't live near hospitals and now they can't be tested at their clinic. I got tested today, by the way. I just thought of that. When I first got here they tested all of us every other day. We had an outbreak here, but, I have to give the worker a lot of credit. They put the skidds to that and it asn't long before we had none in either residents or workers. The wing of no return was turned into an equipment dump from what I can see. I'm off subject again, it's been quite a day. I'll be lucky if the subject returns to me tonight. Kind of kidding. I am beat though. I pissed the cook off here. I posted to myself on FB from my Pat Jones account which is just a quick daily journal to my own page at Pat Harbin Jones and bitched about being served rotten food here last week. Te post had the name of this place in it, so it went to the Garden View page. The cook, who's name is Dallas and I know her personally, I know her whole family, she read that post and got really upset. She's young, this is her first nice paycheck and she works hard. She jumped me saying she was very unhappy with me and I was to take that post down because it was a lie. It didn't even rile me. I felt bad that her feelings were hurt, but what I wrote was true and I had three witnesses and Kate's food was also spoiled. I told Dallas that and she just stared down at me and said, no, it easn't spoiled or I would not have sent it out. I told her she wasn't even here, but, she insisted she made that food. I was told she had left for the day and that's why staff couldn't give me a PBJ instead. So, I went without and so did Kate. It's not worth a war and shit happens. If she had checked previous posts on my page she would hve seen that I have always spoken well about the food here in general. But, she thought I had posted it TO the home's website. I said, nope. She raised her voice and said, "you did." Did not. Look up top. But, the fact is I really didn't care if they did see it. Told her that. What are they gonna do? Poison me? I have change for the vending machines. The funny part of the argument came when Dallas told me I would no longer post about the kitchen. She said, you can not and will not. It was a firm order spoken to someone you expect to obey you and maybe fear you. Anyone who knows me can figure out how I felt about being told I am not allowed to post on a public forum about my own experiences. She said "Do you realize what you've done? Some of us could lose our jobs!" I just left it there with "I told the truth and I will continue to do so." I felt really bad that these people think they could be fired for one round of spoiled lunch meat (how stupid when we are rated one of the nations worst on Google.) Shit happens. Fix it. But, put all that aside..shouldn't they be blaming themselves for the incident? What have I done? I am not in the kitchen. I have never vetured farther than the fucking coffee pot, so how have I ''done'' something? Ehhh, no one reads that dumbass site anyhow. The last posts before mine were years old. Isn't that some bullshit? I know it's all sounding completley stupid to anyone reading, but, the way she put her foot down... "You will remove that post and you will not post again. You will NOT." She's copying the strategies of other older workers who fail to realize this isn't a prison and none of us are detainees. You work here? Guess what, baby? I LIVE here. This is my home and other people's home and some of us still have most of our marbles. You work because of us when you think about it. ~Shakes head.~ We all have to get along and she should have listened to my complaint, said, sorry and I would have said, "it's okay, I get it. Shit happens isn't just a T-shirt"  and life would row, row, row on down that river mediocre. This brings me to my one other complaint this week. I have eluded to it above..why do some of these workers treat us all the same? I don't mean in a fairness way. I mean in an intellectual way. Some people can't hear, so staff yell-talks to all of us. I mean, don't you people know what an inside voice is?? I can hear you word for word on the next wing. Why must you wake me up at 5 AM just changing the neighbors sheets? Why is it okay to yell a joke at your coworker down the hall?  I'm not laughing. The annoying part is, if any resident did that they would be told to quiet down. There are some that get off on barking orders. I have a feeling young Dallas has started to listen to some of their dumb advice on how to deal with us 'crazy old people'. However...If I don't want to get up for breakfast, you can't make me. If I refuse to eat in the dining room (I do), you can't make me. If I don't want to take my meds, get up at the asscrack of dawn, change my clothes, take a bath, join an activity, be social, attend a meeting, stay in the building, not leave the property, stop petting the neighbors pit bulls, stop playing ''tea for two'' on the piano, throw my vapes away, you can't make me. I can still do just about anything I want to within reason. If I was allowed to have a cat in here, it would almost be just like home. There IS a giant Raccoon who loves to get in our windows. Maybe he'd like to be my friend. I could only lose a finger or two trying and I only need a couple to type.

There is very little they can actually make any of us do. It just never occurs to most of these residents. Some of them have been conditioned to accept bulldshit. I point out to them how much it costs to live here. We are left with a pittance, usually spent in the vending machines. Yet some of these twats are telling grown people when they have to go to bed. They even call it beddy bye time. The first time one of them came into my tent and said it as beddy bye time and tried to turn my light off, I aks them who the fuck they were talking (too loudly) to? I said that I was used to staying up all night and had no plans to change. Then we stared at each other for awhile and she said she'd be back to check on me. She never came back. I was never told when to go to bed again. How absurd. Some people who live here have lost their minds, literally. So some workers treat all of us like we're suffering from Dimentia. No shit. They talk loud and slow and repeat things and constanty say "did you understand that?" Of course I did, you putz, you're in my personal space. It took awhile, but, most of them now know that my brain is just fine and physically I usually need no attention. They leave me alone. I have made two friends here, well three, but, one left for medical reasons and I don't know if she's coming back. That would be the vivacious Miss Gloria. She's a wonderful activity therapist and person in general. The other two are Viv, phyical therapist and another physical therpist, Jaylah. I had them both for phys therapy when I came, but, now my stint is over and I still talk to them often. Jaylah is a young gorgeous farm girl and we talk and laugh for hours. Viv is an adorable married mom of two boys, Filipeno, she's pregnant now with a girl. I've been knitting! I'm closer to Jaylah though, we just hit it off for some unknown reason. I have met some residents too, of course, unfortunatly I have found that on this wing, most of them suffer from some form of Altzheimers or whatever that makes them, well, not buddy material. There are some I like so when I get to know them better, I'll put it in here. I'm sure they aren't all goofy, but I have to get out of this wing to find them. I'll end this now and I apologise for the length of this lameness. Next time I post I want to tell you about the other residents on this wing. If you read my last post you know there are some doozies. It gets even worse and crazier. Way crazier. Oh and an update on my mom.

Queen of the what?

Well, I've been here a few months now, I've accepted things and am making the best of them. I really don't mind this place that much. I mean, no one dreams of living in a nursing home, but, there are nice things about it. I don't clean any more, I have staff to do that and they're awesome. I no longer have to worry about laundry. I no longer have to struggle to get groceries or make meals. All that is done for me. I do miss my cats a lot. In fact. it's kind of embarassing, but, when I first got here I would cry thinking of them. Especially Uma Thurman, the tuxedo cat that I belive has some form of feline autism. But, she's doing well and so is Preacher. In fact Sandy caught on that Preach had a growth in his neck. It was a cyst that was wrapped around his carotid artery and would have killed him, but, she got him the help he needed. I'm not sure I would have even noticed it because I lack a lot of sensation in my hands now. He's alive because I had to send him away. Fate is a very weird thing isn't it? 

My days are spent productively, I can tell you. I have all the time in the world to create...stuff. I'll show you pics of the jewelry I've been making. It doesn't matter if you like it or hate it, you will admit that I have been prolific and the designs are all my own. I like most of it and wear it. The staff and residents here like it and several wear it. I have recently started working with hand colored paper, Origami combined with sketches to make pieces that I have no idea what to do with yet, but, I sort of like them. I'll show you those too. They aren't where they're supposed to be yet, but, it's a start. Unlike most of the jewelry, they take a lot of time and patience to complete. I was allowed to bring my favorite guitar here with me. It's the Schecter 6 string acoustic electric that belonged to Eric. It's totally mine now and I sleep with it. Not because I'm obsessed, but, because the other choice is keeping it in the closet where the stand fits. No thanks, it's too hard to get in there and get it out when your in a wheelchair. On the bed, I can just grab it anytime and I do. I've been playing a lot, been writing songs too. I can go into one of the empty dark dining rooms at night and play as loud as I want. Of course we have homey living rooms here, several, but, the dining rooms acoustics are a trip. Sometimes other residents join me, but, that's early after supper. By about 10 pm most people are asleep and it's just me and a few other oddball insoms who slink around the dark halls searching for something to do or hitting the vending machines. There's a room where people put together puzzles and it's not unusual to run into a stray puzzle lover in the hallways in the wee hours of the morning. Most of the staff are seldom seen and it's a different world.

There are some real characters here. You'd think they'd all be old, right? Nope, we have them all ages, some people here are quite young adults. There's Donny, down the hall on my wing. Donnie's in his early thirties, I think, with thick dark hair and big brown eyes. He just missed being handsome because he was born with Cerebral Palsy. Luck of the draw, I guess. CP caused his face to droop on one side and both his arms are withered with claw hands that fail to grasp much. He's in a snazzy purple electric wheelchair (purple's his favorite color) and has never really had a normal life. When his mom died, he had to come here. One of the worst things about his CP is his voice. It that low inarticulate kind of slur that's common in the mentally retarded. Joke is..Donnie's not mentally retarded. In fact he's about average intelligence, if you ask me. Some of the things he does makes him devious and manipulative and he can take advantage of some people by using his disability to disarm them and make them feel sorry for him. He has and uses a cell phone and is proficient on the computer, he uses the voice command option. He's woman crazy and gets cute staff members to pity flirt with him. He's my friend, I like him and he'd do anything for anybody. For example, when my laptop charger broke, he lent me his and just said he didn't need it for awhile. Which wasn't realy true, but, he kne how bummed out I was to be offline. He'll do something super nice lie that, then he will turn around and fully use his disablity to get what he wants, but, I've told him to his face to cut that shit out. I was making him a new storage bag for his new wheels and we were talking.. it was late at night, we were alone in the dining hall one. He starts this dumb conversation about how his roommate, Fred, was pissed off and asked him if I was his girlfriend. Jeez. I asked what he said and he puffed up and got chivalrous. "I told him, what's it to you, Fred, if she is my girlfriend." I looked up from my sewing and stared at Donnie, like wtf? So then he quickly says "because you're so nice, I knew you'd do it if I asked you." Do what? "Be my girlfriend." I told him I'm damn near seventy years old and I'm damned sure no one's girl friend. So then he has the gall to look at me with those big eyes and blubber out "You won't be my, be my girl fwiend?" He said it extra speech impedimenty. I told him I knew exactly what he was doing and he could cut it out because it's not cute. He sat there a minute then said "It's a little cute." Geez, I about spit Pepsi all over. Still when he's not doing goofy horn dog shit like that we get along. He turned me onto Kid Rock and now I do some Kid songs. Pretty well to, at least I like 'em and I'm not embarassed to sing them in front of people. We have some good late night talks and just when I think Donnie's got it straight...he tries to cop  feel during Bingo. Jesus.

Bingo. That's where I met the illustrious Tee. Tee is a big bawdy babe with waist length dark hair, big breasts that she sees no reason to fetter, a big mouth and a quick wide smile. She must have been a looker when she was young, but, still big and blowsy. She calls me her Bingo buddy and tells anyone who will listen about my jewelry 'line'. She's a bulldozer, but, she has a big heart. She is missing her right index finger and laughed when I said I hoped the resident manicurist gave her a nine finger discount. She recently had both large legs amputated. It saved her life and I swear she did not wallow in any sorrow nor did she want pity. She just wanted Bingo. She wheeled herself in setting in her extra large wheelchair, bandaged thigh stumps wrapped in bloody gauze coming in first, daring anyone to get in her way. Last time we played she informed me that she WOULD have that fancy body wash prize and if I bingoed first, I was to get it for her. I said: "What the fuck you want that for? We don't give ourselves our own bath and there's only half of you left." I got a 'shut the fuck up and watch your card, white girl.' I play for scarves. I'm doing a cool scarf wall in my room. They hang from the curtain that separates the room and the different fabrics remind me of a Marrakesh type thing. Hippie dippie do. That same curtain now sports a chartruese green hem almost two feet high. Speaking of my room...or rather my half of the room, it's pretty homey. When I move in somewhere I make the space mine. My blankets and floral throw pillows, my pictures on the wall. I took the Homer Winslow, my elf/sock drawing and Casey's 'cats on a fence' to start. I also brought a little shelf for a few old dolls, rubber and composition, one of my salt lights, my big ceramic frog on a bowling ball and a lot of chutzpah, I guess. A bulletin board holds pics of my newest grandchild and baggies containing baby booties and hats I crochet as well as all of the earrings I have card stock for. I have a blue glass lamp with a big eyed squeegie toy creature inside that has a cream shade just right for hanging new jewelry on as I finish each piece. There are pictures of my children and with my pretty old guitar hanging out on the bed,the effect is very homey and comfortable. It looks like the inside of a van parked at Woodstock. People love to stop by and hang out. My roommate is a woman named Kate. Kate is mobile with a walker, she loves to sleep. She sleeps all the time only getting up for meals. We get along alright, most of the time I space her off and forget she's even there. She has her own quirks though, sometimes she fights with herself in her sleep and keeps her obnoxious cowboy shows on her TV 24/7. I thought that would be a huge problem, but, it's not. Once she's snoring I just turn it down and get on with life. I have become fond of Wyatt Earps theme song though. If she gets to assertive with her volume button, I pick up the guitar and start singing Blues Traveler's "Hook''. Suck it in, suck it in, suck it in, if you're Rin Tin Tin or Anne Boleyn! Or a bit of ''Basket Case" by Green Day. If she really annoys me, there's always "Breed" by Nirvana. It's never gone that far. Probably because she can't stay awake more than an hour. She eats in the farest dining hall and I eat in the room, so, I really do forget she's here. Anyway, for all real intents and purposes I feel like I'm alone in here. I don't know how I got this font and so I'm ignoring it. I want to tell you about the woman I share a bathroom with..it's one of those jack and jill things, but, because she's large, infirm and wheelchair bound, she doesn't use the bathroom, but, you can open the door and  get to her room from ours which is handy because almost every night she slips into senility and starts hollering for help in a very loud, low hoarse voice. "DADDY! Help me, Daddy! I dropped my Teddy, DADDY! DADDY!" She has other cries which range from "CALL THE COPS!" to "I NEED HELP, THIS PLACE IS FULL OF MURDERERS!" And when she settles on a phrase she repeats it at full volume for literally hours. He name is Miss Vivianne and you have to talk to her through a dirty, cheap Christmas bear named Teddy. Teddy will let Viviane know what to say to you. Personally, I don't like or trust Teddy, he needs to take his dumbass stocking hat off. It's Spring already. Plus he accused viv of stealing his candy and she said he spit at her. He's a little creep and he smells like old cheese. BUT, heaven help this whole wing if Viv drops his nasty ass at night. That's why the bathroom door's handy. I can get in there pretty quick and retrieve Teddy before it becomes a major issue. The help is few and far between and Viv can scream like a banshee for half the night. In the light of day, thr aides have done their work like elves making sure Viv is changed, dry, long white hair done did and clean nice clothes on. She is then lifted with one of those mini crane machine things into her huge oversize chair and is allowed to wheel herself around. She looks TOTALLY different than night time Viv whose white tangled hair sticks up and blocks half her broad face. One frantic eyeball glares at you in the dark as you realize night time Viv is naked. She seems too big for the giant diaper shes laying on, her sheets and blankets are wet, on the floor and she's calling you DADDY!  Bette Davis and Joan Crawford combined couldn't do this charactor. If you waited for the help to come check on her, you'd be waiting forever because she can't reach her call light and they can't hear her way down in this rather isolated wing. If you let her get wound up, NO ONE possessing hearing is ever going to have any peace until dawn. There's no stopping her. But, if you hold your breath to keep from breathing pee and scan the dark floor you will see her call light, the TV remote and eventually that disgusting sidekick of hers..Teddy. Quickly give her those things, throw a dry blanket over her (they're on her rocking chair) and get out. Pay no attention when she suggests we should watch the home shopping network with her credit card, just go. She calls me Birdy. She knows my GD name, but, she says it doesn't suit me. She's right. And in the morning, she will be the lovely mannerly Miss Viv we all know. She's the only 90 year old lady who will smile at you and tell you to ''always be the best dressed whore at the party, dear." She may be right. She should know, she was married to Bigfoot. As she tells it, his dick was too big so she divorced him and married his brother. She's in a wheelchair because once when she was having sex with Bigfoot, the bed broke and it fucked up her back. She had a little boy once, but, he died when he was born and now she has Teddy. I believe that story was actually true, but, who knows? I offered to give her a baby doll and she said that would be lovely, but, Teddy whispered something in her ear and she said maybe that wasn't a good idea. She thinks Teddy might have homicidal tendencies. 

Then there's Miss Irene, across the hall. Irene, also known as Hagatha Crispy, is 95 years old. Wheelchair bound, she is a very tiny woman who has extremely thinning white hair down past her shouders. Her large bald spots with wisps of said hair clinging to the flakey, shiny skin of her scalp are kind of hard to get passed. She also has a good sized black ulcer on her nose which looks like cancer and sparse teeth of an undetermined color. Kind of moth wing complexion. She is dressed (by aides) in little elastic waist bluejeans and checkered button up shirts with peter pan collars which she likes to wear tucked in and a tiny pair of white Keds. Irene pushes herself all over this end of the building all day, going nowhere, slowly, stopping for naps. Sometimes she nods off in such precarius poses that you can't help but, stare at her, waiting for her to breathe again. Whew, still alive. That sort of thing. She is pretty much deaf and wears no hearing aid. I don't know why, but, now that I've typed that, I will try and find out. You have to get right up on her and kind of yell. "Irene, you're lunch is coming, sit still." Said about five of us at once when she forgot she was eating and took off. Irene is a very nice person, she is always polite...well almost. If she perceives that you've wronged her she will pitch a hissy. Once she asked if she could join me at a table where I was sketching. I said, "sure, Irene, but, the nurse just sat your pill and juice over there.'' I don't know what she heard, but, she told me off good. "If I'm not welcome here, I'm leaving forever and you and all your kin can go square to hell!' Alrighty then, Hagatha Crispy. An hour later she's forgotten all about it and we're the best of friends again. I made sure she got to see my newest grandson, baby Jon, when he came to visit. She was so tickled, she touched his little foot and her light blue watery eyes got bright. She kept thanking me for days. She doesn't have any visitors that I know of. She has no children. She slips into dementia sometimes and comes to my door and asks me if I've seen her mom or dad today and are they coming to take her home to the farm soon? It hurts your heart. I always say that I don't know, but, I'm sure she'll hear from them soon. I tell her they seem like such a nice couple. Am I lying? She's pushin' 100, right? Some of the workers who have no patience, bluntly tell her the truth and it makes her cry. I don't see the point. I give them dirty looks when I hear them doing that. Sometimes she just gets lost and tired and doesn't know where to go. There are several of us who watch out for her.

The title? Glad you asked. The residents had some contest and they voted a King and Queen of Garden View. I was voted Queen. I got a plastic crown and everything. Yeah, it wasn't a dream come true, but, I'll throw it in the bucket, right? At least they like me and no one wants to kill me. Except that ugly naked guy on C wing, but. he wants to kill everybody. I'll tell you about him and some others later. 

Oh, I told my daughter I was voted Queen. Not missing a beat, Casey says "Oh, mom, I always knew someday you'd be Queen of something." Oh, that dry wit. :)

 I have been in this care home for two weeks now. I never thought I'd be one to have to go into a place like this because I was always so active and strong. I was always surprising men who couldn't believe how strong a small woman can be. I worked along side many and did the same work in the same amount of time. However, the cracks in my spine just kept progressing no matter how much I tried to ignore them and the medical prediction. At this point I am labeled a paraplegic. I have very little use of my legs. My cute little house is not wheelchair accessible. It doesn't even have a handicapped entrance. I thought about putting one in, but, realized how seriously weak I am now.  I also found out I have stage three kidney disease. It sure wasn't cause by alcohol. At the moment, there is no pain from it and everything functions normally. I have severe pain from my back though. I ust got new meds yesterday, so we'll see how it goes.

What I really want to talk about is, being in ''the home''. It's called Garden View and it's at 1200 W. Nishna Road, Shenandoah, Iowa, 51601...if anyone cares to write me. I'll sure write back. This place had some really bad reviews online, in fact it was called ''the nations worst'' by Google. But, placements are hard to find, plus I had some lies working against me. I'll tell you about those later. So Garden View was the only lace that would take me. I had been in the hospital for weeks with nothing much being done for me, they just kept me because I'm kind if helpless now. It snuck up on me and it's hard to get used to.

Despite the reviews (which made me nervous) this place is pretty good. Most of the staff are very nice, sweet and really see to care and want to help.Some of them have a great sense of humor too. Sure, you get Grouch once in awhile or what I call a Huffer. A Huffer is someone who huffs everytime you ask for something and dismisses you with "I'll ask'' or "I was just going to do that, so wait.'' It's in the tone of the voice and the eyeroll and the inevitable, "Turn off your call light." Sometimes when I get a huffer I say, "I'll turn off my light after you get around to helping me." So far, that's been the worst of it. For the most part, I like everybody on staff here. Oh, and I've gained a ton because the food is actually good. It's like...home cooked cafe food. Truck stop food.  Which I always enjoyed.. Also they roll out the snack cart twice a day not to mention the personal groceries I have stashed. 

 I'm back in the hospital again. I've been here for about two weeks this time. I called the ambulance myself because I couldn't get my pain level down to a manageable level. The ER gave me shots of something and transferred me to a private room for a stay. I knew this was coming, so I had called Sandy and she came and got my cats. I miss them so much it literally made me sick for awhile. I am so grateful that they're with someone who will love them and care for them like her own, but, I miss them. I hate to say I have a favorite, but, it's Uma Thurman I miss the most. Sandy calls her an ''odd unit'' and I get that, but, I'm an odd unit too. Uma and I understand each other. I don't know what's going on at this point. I ask that the hospital staff help me to find a place where I can get health care, like a care home or assisted living. No one has been able to place me anywhere and so after two weeks I requested to be checked out. Now they're ignoring that request. They keep saying they'll ''talk it over'' an then it's like they hope I'll forget I asked. One of the nurses remarked "They're trying to put you in a home." I told her 'they' weren't doing anything, that I was trying to put myself in a home. But, now, I think I've changed my mind. I'm tired of this hospital stay, not that it's bad, it isn't. I have TV which I don't have at home and three meals a day plus snacks. I definitely don't have that at home and the food here is surprisingly good. But, every day is the same and if I didn't have my laptop I would go insane. I'll let you know what happens.

The Home

The Home was not my home. I was told by my doctor that I would get no more medicine because I'd done something bad. Well, first of all, what they implied was attempted suicide. I can assure you, no matter how bad things get, I have always said, I'll ride it out. Sure, I could have just had ''old person's brain'' and forgot and took too many pills, but, the things they were accusing me of using were not things I had access to. So, how does that work? It doesn't work for me. Getting my records is working for me. 

As I read through my personal messages from that time, I realized that I had access to WIFI and my new laptop. I could get ahold of people, I didn't feel so alone. If I am a drug addict why would I deny it? That part makes no sense because I've been on narcotics for twenty years with nary the hint of any mishap. I get Tramadol and Hydrocodone. I use them both. The Tramadol is used to 'boost' the Codone and that way I never take extras. I don't have to, I don't have the stomach for that anyway. Both those drugs will have you nauseated and vomiting if you take more than a couple. I fail to understand how something that makes you sleepy can be considered ''recreational.'' It's more than a little creepy. What about the psychotropics?

This was most likely the proverbial straw that cracked the dromedary spine. I remember a trip to another hospital for dialysis.  I believe it was in Omaha. I don't know the name of it. I also remember yet another hospital. I believe it was in Lincoln, Nebraska. I also vaguely remember one in Des Moines, Iowa. Thats a lot of hospitals. One was the dialysis thing, they were Kidney Specialists. One was a Cardiac Specialist. My always before healthy heart just stopped. I don't know who called 911, it wasn't me. Once a neighbor heard me hollering for help and banging in morse code. Turned out I was badly dehydrated. I learned a lesson with that one and I now have unopened bottles of water hidden all over at floor level. My point is, when I need help, I get help. I now take proper precautions that I never thought about before. I need to talk about "The Home."

The home looked like another hospital to me, from what I could see out my window. Low slung red brick building, modern, white trim. My room was very nice, private and I had a bathroom that I didn't have to share. The thing was, even though I had a private bathroom, I soon began to suspect that someone had put a camera or at least a microphone in there. I would push the button to activate the light outside my door, signaling care staff that I needed help. That button had a metal clip on it and was clipped to my bottom fitted sheet. Most of the time it took way too long to get someone to come when I "called." They were always short staffed, always. I only met a couple of bad ones, but, in general, they just didn't have enough help. There also wasn't enough food. The food was edible for the most part, well, with the exception of casserole type things like Beef Stroganoff. I don't know anyone who wants to pick up their entire serving of that stuff with one stab of their fork. It was a coagulated mess of biblical proportions. By the way, the name of this care home was Azria. It's pronounced 'Azrah' and it means "Go with god.'' Ummm, no thank you. My helpful doctor had his assistant call and see if they had any beds and they did. I protested that i needed to settle some things at home. I have pets at home. I can't just be swept up like that. I felt a panic attack coming on. 

I'm sure I protested and then ask what he planned on doing about my hip? My doctor was flabbergasted. He acted like he'd never read my file. I am a candidate for hip replacement and I wanted it done. I do not, however, plan to go through that without drugs. I know this is getting confusing. I may take a break before I write about the really bad stuff that happened to me there.

The Atrocities

 I remember things. Things are coming back to me everyday now, some pleasant, some not so much. I remember being told at Jenny Edmondson in Council Bluffs, Iowa that I had a brain tumor. I remember saying it didn't surprise me as I had always felt that there was something wrong inside my head. I am not prone to making up stories especially one's with small Asian men who hold my hand while they give me bad news. I believe his name even sounded Asian and was wearing green scrubs. A female doctor came in and sat down in a chair near my hospital bed and explained my new medicine. You'd think ''mansplaining'' only comes from men. but, I can assure you women can be guilty of it as well. I interrupted her only once, I was desperately trying to tell her that I can not take certain drugs, particularly psychotropics. She was furious with me and told me I would be taking these meds. She had prescribed two different kinds and had me taking seven pills a day. Seven.  I don't do well with one, let alone seven!

I shut my mouth and figured I'd straighten this out with my doctor when I got home. I wasn't even sure why I'd been sent there. Here are things I remember. I remember I called 911 after I fell. I knew it was bad and I knew I'd be a fool not to be checked out medically. I don't remember being carried out of my home, but, when I came to, my daughter, Casey, was beside my bed. She was sitting in a chair, with her phone. I must have scared her. She usually comes to get me, wherever I am, but, this time, I believe, they had put me in a medically induced coma to let me heal. My whole face was pretty messed up. I think it took a couple of days before I was even able to open my eyes. This was at the Clarinda Regional Health Center. Which is our hospital and the place where all our doctor's have their offices.

A Journal Journey Of Medical Mishaps

 Let's see if I can get this halfway straight. Let's see if ANY of this makes sense. I took a bad tumble about two months ago, it was severe. I say it was severe, because it was. It blacked both my eyes. It hurt my brain. While I was in the hospital, things started getting weird here. I seemed to be missing things, but, not the kinds of things thieves take. Things that meant nothing and were worth less. If you understand me. In this two month period I was hospitalized at least six and probably seven times. Yeah, that's a lot. Why can't I remember all of it? With my spotty memory, do I need a lawyer? Is there any use in having a lawyer?I remember Jenny Edmondson Hospital. I was in the old part. I didn't know it had an old part, but, there I was. Day after day. Once it rained and I begged nurses to let me sit in my wheelchair just to the side of the big (only) window. I wanted to watch the rain, I have always loved it. It was a Jenny Ed. that I was diagnosed with a huge brain tumor. Not just a big brain tumor, but, huge, enormous, the worst they'd ever seen. The good news was that it was benign. I am not prone to making things up, let alone small Asian men who hold my hand as they deliver bad news. I just wanted to go home. They wanted me to stay so they could ''observe'' me. I wanted to go home to my pets.

I got home and called my regular doctor, a GP, and made and appointment for a hospital release visit. It took a lot to get there as Lissa still has my car, so I had to call ahead to ''reserve'' a taxi. If I called too far ahead, they could forget me. If I called too late, I would never get there. Somehow, I got there. I wasn't nervous, I had a book and some water with me and I occupied my time after the initial sign in. When I got called in to see the doctor, a nurse asked me what I weighed. I said I had no idea. I still don't know, my guess would be 140 lbs. Once you get old, no one is much interested in anything you have to say anyway, so I was taken at my word and wheeled into one of the exam rooms. To wait and wait some more. When the doctor finally came in, it was Dr. Shelton, my regular doctor. He's been my doctor for decades. He left for awhile. I, for one, was glad to have him back. He ended up doing a preliminary check before he recognised me. Dr. Shelton: "You! Go back to Azria!" Then he was out of the room. I then realized the nightmares I'd been having were true. I had not been in a hospital, I had been in a nursing home! I always had this idea that if I got stuck in a nursing home, it wouldn't be so bad. I mean, three squares a day, TV for sure and hopefully WIFI. My memories are a little like that. Very little. I sure didn't remember a little old man dressed like a Martian who yelled at me. I didn't remember anything like that at all.

Beat down, but, not out yet

 

Here I am again. I have just come from Face Fuck where I was explaining to someone that they had been lied to. I swear, I don't know about you, but, all that place is good for is stirring shit. I prefer to stir my shit in private. What's been going on? I expect you all to tell me and per usual, I will read every single comment. I always did, you know. Speaking of Face Fuck, I put a recent photo on there asking if I should cut my bangs or let them grow out. The thing is, that photo is a few weeks old. Not long ago, I took a bad header and got hurt. All I remembered was going to bed to sleep. That's rare for me, I am a true insomniac, so, I was pleased to be tired out and drowsy. My head hit the pillow and that's the last thing I remembered until I woke up in the ambulance. I was in the hospital for three days. This video is what I looked like on day three, ready to go home. Believe me, it was an improvement. I looked like I had had my makeup done while riding in the flat bed of an eighteen wheeler going 95 down a freeway entrance ramp while having an epileptic seizure right before we crashed into and totaled out on a garbage truck. I'm feeling more like my old self now, it's healing well. The bad part is, I am getting memories back of what happened, in flashes and it's not good. I actually hit my head so hard that I played "got yer nose" with a police officer. Yeah, my doctor laughed at my checkup and so did his typist. I told them it's not that funny, I want to move out of town. Then my doctor casually mentioned that he doesn't know where I live so I told him. Down in South Guntown on the East Side. He knew where some landmarks were, but, he's not from here originally. He just got stuck here somewhere in his life journey. Like most of us who are born to it, he got out. but, cam back. It's like this place has some kind of mystic hold on our psychies and once you're here, you're doomed to repeat that mistake. Maybe this really is Hell and we are all the worst sinners?!?! I'd kind of revel in that notoriety. anyway, from this...

LMAO, wtf with that picture, right?

 

Buying a car, or an adventure in shysterhood. It's a bad hood.

My darling little Granddaughter stole my car, I told you that. I'm over it. I ended up having to choose between every over grown grass permanently parked, rusted out rust bucket, needs a motor AND tranny (but it's good) piece of dog hind end licking fuckwadery that I have ever encountered. I know about wishes and horses (thank's Granny), but, the people on Face Fuck Marketplace are dispicable. Not all of them, just the ones with cars. I had one almost bought, it was a PT Cruiser, one owner, needed a part, but, that part was unreachable. You had to pull the tranny to change a $25 dollar part. When a car is a 2006 with 160,000 miles on it and you have to pull a tranny, you might as well put a new transmission in. I called a shop and got a repair price and it still would have been a good buy, but, some asshat bought it, put it right back on Marketplace the next day and upped the price by $500 dollars. He also told me that it runs great just needed a $25 dollar part. I called him on his BS and told him I was familiar with that car and he got all whiney. Nobody can give him a break, Oh fuck. When your aspirations in life are to be a greasy used car salesman you can't sing The Impossible Dream, because you aint Don Quixote. You'd be more of a Ralph Cramden. To the Moon, bitch. So many stories like that.

I have a damn nice car of my own, all paid for, but, that kid is in hiding. I got woken up last week by the Omaha Juvenile Detention center who had her in custody, again! We are on a first name basis now. Get this...they wanted me to come get her. I laughed so hard I peed myself. I told that woman, how would you suggest I do that since SHE STOLE MY CAR? Uhhh...silence. I asked to speak to Lis and she tells me it's just a curfew violation, not to get my pannies in a knot. It was 4:am. To her credit, she didn't address me as that N word. I swear she thinks she's black. For someone who's always on the honor role and never studies, she is stooooopid sometimes. She thinks the world owes her vast riches, jewels, furs, limos, etc and claims she can't get a job. She also gets her money from her dad's SSI and that's about a thousand a month. Can't make it on that? I make it on significantly less. She lies constantly, even about things she doesn't have to lie about. It's like she gets a perverse pleasure from it. She steals from me, lies to me and now she's writing bad checks on me. Big ones. My mother called me out for lying on the kid when I told her. I said, hang up I am on my way. I got on my fucktarded walker and went over there (no easy feat) and I showed her one I had just gotten back. It was for $650.00 and was, get this, in block letters because she can't write in cursive! Yeah, she's an evil genius. Don't give up that life of crime kiddo, I'm just sure it will pay off someday. Jebus! I laughed in that old ladys face and asked her how much she'd given that kid this month. She denied it, but, she lies all the time too. She usually gives her a grand a month. No joke, that smart mouthed brat lives bigger than most of us! Anyway, I told Juvie to call my mother or keep the kid. It was explained to me that CPS would be called and I laughed some more. Good. I am on a first name basis with them too. In fact, I know how they all take their coffee. I hung up and the next day mom told me Lissa was free. Step grandma went and got her after mom impersonated me on the phone. Crazy bitch. I like step grandma, but, grandpa gives me the creeps. He yells at me to be a better parental figure. I calmly suggest that he should do it. He yells some more and hangs up. I swear, I have raised Lissa the same way I did my own biological children and they turned out great. Kids to be proud of. But, this one is just corrupt by nature. Maybe it was the brain surgeries where they took out parts of her brain, I have no clue, but, I am done. I have a court date on the 16th for some past indiscresion of hers. I can't even keep them all straight anymore, but, some are pretty heavy. She's 16 now, nearly 17, but, still a minor so I won't talk much about those things and it doesn't matter anyway. The kids a turd and she hates me. 

Other than that, life is good. I do miss writing though. As you can tell. Oh, I had four late Raccoons this year. They were a handful and all but one are outside. This one is a big male and he's not ready. I also had a sad thing happen. I lost my tuxedo cat Indie to the road outside. I was a mess, but, I just could not keep him away from it because he grew up at moms and loved visiting. I did eventually replace him with a baby kitten I named Uma Thurman. We were on a Kill Bill marathon when we got her. She's a tuxedo and not as nice as my Indie. In fact, she's a mean twat, but, I love her. She's my only house cat. The rest are always invited in, but, they don't like it. Preacher Man stays in when it's cold though. He's getting old. I had two late batches of kittens. I managed to find homes for them all, but, one. If you know anyone who wants a huge male kitten about 4 months old, all black, long hair, litter trained,,let me know.

I guess I have you up to date. Fighting with family...check. Still bitching...check. Life is worth squat...hell no. Life is what it is, sometimes shit and sometimes rain. I love the rain. Tell me what you've been up to.

 Well, friends, Dishers, it's so good to be back. I know I wanted to get everything done before Valentine's Day, but, my computer bit the dust and I had to wait to get a new one so I could even post here. I know you remember my darling granddaughter. That kid. She borrowed my car, she said she had a bed to move, here in town. Her mom lives here now, so I thought that was probably true. It would be just like her to give away the brand new mattress my mom bought and frankly, I don't give a shit. More on darling mother later. Anyway, the brat has had the car for two months now and she wont bring it back.   She's such a "see you next Tuesday." My mom says if I call the law on the kid she will commit suicide. Mom, not the kid. She says she can't take the drama in our disfunctional family anymore, which is ironic considering she is the second major contributor to all of it. Lissa is the first, of course. I am not pondering suicide and never will. It's my goal to live long enough to kick both thier sorry ass's to the depths of Siberia. Please excuse the errors in this post, I am so rusty, I can barely spell my own name. I am already tickled a pretty shade of pinkish just to be ventalating again. My solitary existance, Winter (the ice age) and my anti social disorder are aggravating my stay at home disease. Whats that called? Agoraphobia? Whatever that is, all this means I had to find a ride to another town to get a computer because there's no place to buy one here. Remember I live in Buttfuck, Egypt. The place where Satan inserts the Earth's enema nozzle. 

  So, let's get this party started. I really do want any of you who are interested to take this site and run with it. I will continue to contribute, but, when I say take over, I mean it. Everyone will have the password here, post as they see fit and every complaint will be solved with a group vote. I will have no more power than anyone else, but, there will never be another bully-troll situation. I'll start making a list of Dishers who need to join our group and you guys need to help me. You can sign up, we'll notify anyone who hasn't been on here in a while and we'll take our time solidifying everything. Any great ideas will be appreciated and discussed. Like, I want a place we can sell our hand made items and art, etc. I don't like most of the established places, they want too much money and have to many dumb rules. So,

we can make sub categories, much like Reddit. Ideas? Cooking|baking, arts n crafts how to's, beauty, fashion, animals, paranormal etc. Whatever any of us is interested in. I have become fasinated with the world of Cryptids, I had some kind of experience. I still don't know what it was, but, I am pretty sure it was a Cryptid. Possibly Dogman or Gugwe. Well that's it for right now. Give me some feedback, I know we have a lot of work ahead, but, once we get it going it should run pretty smooth with little effort. Don't you think? 

OMG there is so much shit in here. I have no idea what this crap is. I am so tired of tech crap, I am turning off the wifi and playing my guitar. I have been practicing old songs I used to know and relearning them. Tonight I am working on  'Crazy' by Patsy Cline, Fleetwood Mac's 'Dreams', 'Broken Glass' by Annie Lenox, some Nirvana, Isley bothers 'This Old heart Of Mine'. Rod Stewart does a good version of that too,  but, the brother's do it better. Sorry Rod. but I can already do 'Maggie May.' Alex is going to help me record and play some lead for me. I will put them on. Miss Troll will shit her ugly out of style pants. I am actually outside her house watching her. Yes, I am releasing the Snakes now.

It feels so good to be here posting again. I see many more Dishers in the comments. Hi!! I have no option to publish now. I think Google thinks I'm a hacker. I found two more of the fake sites. I found two more dirty dishes, but, one is legit. Why would someone do that? They had to google that domain name and realize what a mess all that is. At least I am seeing positive things too. there's just so much and I want to sit down and read every comment. Man, did I miss people who could write. GIFs and meme and that text hex 'boi' what up ho? Ick. 

Hey, is Frimmy there? I hope so. I see we have a person who's pannies have turned an unfortunate color. I think that's my granddaughter. Trolls were right, she is a mess. But, I will tell you all of it soon. My whole family is out of control. Good stories. Tuwella, my loving mother, turned four hundred and seven last week. Yeah, she really is still a giant pain in my ass. Do you guys have any new songs I'd like? I love blues and punk, grunge, Motown.,,well I guess I'd look up about anything you tell me too. I have also been making jewelry. I will get your opinion soon. I think I got the Covid vaccine. I didn't want it. I think it gave me the crap, but, I toughed it out, isolated and it was icky, but, I must have gotten a weak one? I think I'd rather take my chances and have visitors. I was lonely. I am finally talking to people who aren't cats. Since I left here I holed up in Guntown and I just went out once a month for supplies. When that rotten kid left I was alone and didn't mind, but, it seems I left here in 2017? Okay, I'm off now. I am fried. I will talk to you all soon.  

 To all my DISHERS, yep, I still have control over my own damn site. I made it pretty hard to get in here and none of them have. Remember how fucking annoying the trolls were? I have found so many of them and I have busted my butt collecting all info and proof and reporting them. The sons a bitches are still running my feed with PayPal and ads up the ying. Fuck them. 

Today we have more important things to talk about. I noticed there is a huge spike in viewers this month. Hundreds of people! Amazing, on a site that was shut down years ago! Ha.  I meant it when I said we have a huge free giveaway at dirty DISHER. I want to give all my real DISHERS the blog. Free. No strings attached. No rules. Nothing to fill out. No puzzles to solve. I know who YOU are. I was trapping trolls. Although, I did check out all those sites you get when you type in THE DIRTY DISHER. Good load! I found out some awesome things. Interviews, saved photos and headers, just all kinds of awesome stuff, Oh, and THE DIRTY DISHER was nominated for a Google Blog Award. My goodness! Then how come Google wouldn't protect us? I never understood that, but, oh well, we can protect ourselves. I want to turn over ownership of this place to you by Valentines Day. It seems apropos. I loved it here. I no longer have a child here to worry about. No one can fuck with me anymore. 

I want to think of sure fire ways that no one here will ever be pissed off, feel ignored, get stressed, be bullied or any of that stuff that happened with troll T.  Please, I beg you, never type that lying, psycho whores name here. I am trying my best to live a positive life. I have succeed until now, but, I consider it, Trolls finally getting what they deserved. I finally get justice. I am planning to work for you guys, if you'll have me. We can make some cash, have tons of fun and create a real website here with subs like good old Redit does. Lofty goal, I know, but, I know people. I know psychics, empaths, certified healers, musicians, artists, photographers, bakers, chefs, vintage experts, certified master gardeners, antique dealers, paranormal and Bigfoot people, animal experts...and the list goes on. They are the real deal and they get in on this big give away too, but, only if they are willing to barter services or monitor live feeds, etc. I never want this place to be all about money. I never cared about money and you guys know that. There was never a PayPal link on here. There's a Moon sign telling you the phases, which is much cooler. But, I am still willing to work. 

Okay, been a long night here. I need to check the comment button. Give me a few minutes, if you are reading this. It's been awhile since I've been in the control room. Maybe there's some hot old geezer hiding in there. He'd look like Sam Elliot. Peace, my DISHERS. Oh, one more thing, please share in Facebook about what is happening here. I know people everywhere. Share facebook style. I hate that place. I told you that place was a sewer. I should never have gone there. Oh, my writing place is already a Google sub-blog. I get to keep that. The Last Word. That psychopathic psychedelic trip is all mine, though I don't know why anyone else would want it. I will be back here soon, I promise. 

Miss fuck you

I used to love this place. I was ready to stop daily blogging, but, would have enjoyed keeping it open and updating occasionally. Without comments though, there isn't much point. I can't leave comments open because of the troll. I never minded at all when the psycho picked at me, but, she loves picking on children. She also stalks us, calling our courthouse to get info and publishing personal stuff like the kid's school, sexual things directed at the child, etc. I looked at her ignorant journal site the other day and she posts along like she has the right, but, thinks no one else does. She's caused the closing of other good blogs besides mine too. Everywhere you look for her name, people are saying she's crazy, but, I wonder if they have any idea how crazy she really is. She takes psycho meds and I think she goes off them sometimes and loses what little shit she has.

What she doesn't know is, I have kept track. I've just gotten back from a little trip to ----. You know that feeling that someone is watching you? She should have had it this week. I'm going back real soon. If she thinks she can take what I worked hard on for years and years and go her merry way, she is wrong.

People like her should not fuck with people like me. $300.00 I don't give a shit and that does not work in her favor.

Could it be?

Could it be that I'm not done?
Could it be that troll's not won?
Samhain is coming, spirits call,
Fire and smoke, the smell of fall.
This place, this past...
belongs to me.


I am home.

Ideas

Since I now know that one of the main trolls was someone I took into my own home and tried to help, Ihave to rethink this blog. Oh, I know he isn't the only one, but, he is the most vile. So, I have an idea. I want a new blog. I don't want to be the blog police. I know a spot, not too fancy, but, free AND it gives the IPs and allows blocking. It would also allow YOU guys to make posts about anything you want and post your own photos. Anyone interested in a new forum?

MY POINT OF VIEW

I invited crabbie to stay here a week or two and get destressed because I knew he was having problems with his sister and her family. I DID NOT invite him to live here. I have a small house. He showed NO motivation to find his own place even though I offered to help. As far as I have seen, he is not a drunk. He only plays one on the internet. He likes a few beers now and then and once in awhile something stronger. But, not every day or every week. I know drunks, I have enough in my family and he aint one. What he is, is a big ass baby boy who can't take care of himself to the point where you have to tell him to take a shower because he smells like rancid ass. He's scared of people and hates talking to strangers about apartments and such. He expects everyone to do everything for him including flushing the fucking toilet. I'm surprised he's even house trained. He felt perfectly justified holing up in my bedroom letting everyone else do everything for him. While I slept on the couch IN MY OWN HOUSE. one week turned to two to a month and enough was enough.

He knows goddamn well I invited him for a week or so, not to live here. One more stinking mess for me to clean up after this worthless grown man and I had it, I got some real men and they threw him out of my house. I had  ordered him to leave but he refused, Not so tough when men with steel bats and brass knuckles are ordering you out, are you crabbie? Though I did pop him on the head and knock that filthy ball cap he wears off. He's lucky I didn't pull a gun on him. I WILL NEXT TIME. last I SAW OF HIS DUMB, HELPLESS, WOTHLESS, FILTHY ASS he was heading out of town, presumably to a place that has FREE wifi .If the tons of deleted hissy fits are any indication. piece of shit, he even tried to tell me he was my only friend. What do you say to that?

Be warned, next time you put yourself out for a friend and try to be a friend and put yourself in their place...first ask yourself this all important question...are THEY your friend? If not, skip them and get a dog

I think I found my Coon babies, they ate the food I left for them in the garage. Poor things. By the way, they smell WAY better than big baby men who can't flush a toilet.. you lazy pig. You TROLL.

Ahhh, a new post, with several subjects

Unfortunatley, no pics,but,it's just as well as I have rarely seen anything so ugly in my life. We went through a twisIter last night and so many of the pretty mature trees are gone. Road crews are blocking off streets because of the massive debris and you have to zig zag around. Mom lost a tree that came clear down and blocked all the cars in her drive. Bruce and his son have trucks and cars and they cant get out until te remove the tree. My trees fared better, though the mess is atrocious. I can't find my little coons anywhere, but, they know to hide in the garage during storms. I took them out food and I sure hope I find them when it clears up. They are half grown now, but, still need guidance. They are such innocent critters, please send good energy or prayer to help me find them. Looks like more bad weather tonight. The town is wrecked. I couldn't open the front door for all the furniture piled in front. The cats fared alright, as cats do. They helped me look for the coon babies, but, no luck. I will say, there are many places they could have taken shelter in.

Well,crabbie has been approved for an apartment. As soon as one is available. Since I have never lied to you or told untruths about my situation, I will tell you what is happening, I wanted to be a friend to crabbie, it seemed he needed one, I was more than willing to put him up until he found a place to live. I was also ready to furnish it and make sure his finaces were adequate. I had invited him here for a week or so to straighten out his head, distress. I knew he was having a hard time with his relatives. I made myself very clear. I am not living with some man. Not going to happen. I badgered and begged him to apply for apartments. He finally applied for ONE. One. Then he seemed to think he's done all he could do. I gave him some time. Still, he applied for no more, wasn't even interested. I kicked him out of my bedroom and he's sleeping in the laundry room. Now, I want my laundry room back. At this point, what else can I think but, that he thinks I'll give in and let him live here? No. I won't. I do not want a man in any capacity. I have given him until August 19 to get to hell out. More than fair. When school starts, we will not be living with a man, I don't care where he goes. Do any of you want him? Border you made a comment saying you had a place for him..do you?He is quiet and no trouble. But, my house is small and I DO NOT WANT A MAN HERE,

His feelings will be all hurt when he reads this and I don't care. August 19. Out you go crabster. I would like to talk to Beth, she knows something about him.

Hey,what's up?

No  pics today, which is sad, because I could have gotten some amusing ones already and it's still early. Crabs is still asleep, so I have to blog on the laptop which baffles me. I need the keyboard on my old desktop monstrosity to type because I'm fucking old. Anyhow, I'll do my best. I have misplaced my camera and I have to hunt it down. A bad time to lose it with two young Coons making mischief. They have moved into the big tree. Little Girl decided to go with her brother as long as I still hold and play with her at feeding times. I feed twice a day and stay with them while they eat, otherwise, they live in the top of that huge old tree. They are safe. We weathered a bad storm out there together, since little girl could not decide who to go with. I told her to stay with her brother and I would stay with them. So I did. It was horrible, the rain came so hard it stung my face and made a lake of the yards and streets in minutes. I kept talking to them and we got thru it okay. I am convinced it was some weird tornado activity. Crabs slept through it, I don't know how. Oh, also,  the storm brought out the Guntown weirdos. Grown men running up and down in the flooded streets screaming and whooping. Obviously drunk or whatever, Lissa and I armed ourselves after the torrent of rain and I stayed up all night keeping watch. It wasn't paranoia, they aimed a car with it's lights on at my back door for over an hour. It was deliberate as this is a back area, and really rural looking out there. But, nothing really happened. Which is good, because I just hate shooting people. But, I will.

So, yeah, crabbie is moving, but, not too far, which is good. He's an awesome dude, but, I want my bedroom back. You guys know how long, how many fucking years I waited for my own room and some privacy. So, you can understand. I wish I had a third room, so that crabs could live with me, but, I don't. He's looking at places now and Lis and I are excited because we get to decorate his new place! Oh, I WILL be junkin' and I WILL take pics! It's going to be so much fun.

Get this..my mother wants crabbie to live with her. I actually don't think it's a bad idea as she's nice to other people and my Aunt Ruth's former room with it's own bathroom and entrance is still empty. Seems everyone wants crabbie, he really is a decent dude.

More pics

Lis and grandma, both wearing glow mouse ears. Purdy.

Birthday Queen in her party dress.

Alissa Lynn, age 12!!

Those rats a friend left with me, now live at Casey J's work place and have loads of fun and friends. They like being cargo pocket pals. Is that cute, or what??

Lots of pics today

I decorated with a light trail leading to the backyard firepit. It was REALLY pretty.

Alissa's mom's boyfriend, Willie (who I love) made a great firepit with blocks I bought on sale. And I put my beloved owl lights up on the fug garage along with tons of fruit jar lights next to the thriving punkin' patch. It was much prettier than it looks in pics. We bought all the tiki torches in town and some of those 3 foot candles along with balloons and streamers. The turnout was small because the kid invited mostly friends from out of town. Doh, But, she did have a good time. She and this one big mouthed kid I can't stand dressed like it was a red carpet and told all of us what 'good' music really is. OMG, I hate kids sometimes.

There is the elusive crabster. He is not actually unhappy, he just hates cameras.

Ha! Crabbie, I told you I'd get you and I did. Nearly used up all my batteries, but, he's even smiling. He's actually very cute, isn't he?

Punkin' patch. I am unreasonably proud of it, so far, so good.

The poor babies were confined to their cage all day yesterday because of the festivities. I let them out this morning for some play. Crabbie locked himself in the bedroom with coffee. LOL. He cracks me up. That is baby boy Coon, who thinks I'm someone who brings food and is okay to play with, but, past that, fuck me and he WILL bite me. I caught him hanging off my aquarium trying to get fish for breakfast. Man, talk about self sufficient. He doesn't know it, but, Willie has agreed to climb his tree and put a shelter for him in it. Then he can go, like he wants to. Soon.

That's baby girl Coon and it's blurry because she will not get two feet away from me. She loves me totally, has accepted me as her mother and does not want to leave. So, I will let her visit her brother in his tree, but, she will come inside to sleep with mommy at night, until she decides to go too. I love her so. I love him too, but, he's so damn mean. Yesterday, he bit me good and I smacked him in the nose with a roll of paper towels. It scared him and he cried and kissed me. No biting today, but, I'm sure he'll go right back to it after outside play. I got them a wading pool and I hope to get good pics today of them swimming. Hey, I didn't get any pics of me! But, Lis did and as soon as she wakes up, I'll get one from her and put it on here. Today, I can rest. Thank goodness. How are all you guys??

Outsmarted and half crazy

Click the pics, so you can see what I'm up against. I took the coons for their very first tree climbing lesson. Until now, they have played in the dirt and a bird bath by the garage. They stay close and come over touching my shoes to make sure I'm there before they go back to playing.

They were nervous in a new part of the yard, but, water is irrisistable. People say Coons wash their food. They do not. They just love putting things in water and playing. Sticks, stones, anything they can play chase under water. They also learn to fish for minnows and crawdads this way. I does look like they're washing food, but, they actually don't.

Climb the tree, I said. GO! But the airshow a block away made them scared and they had to crawl up mommy's leg for a bit. The big old tree intimidated them too.

Low flying airplanes are scary! She felt safe in my lap though.

Finally! They had pissed around for an hour, I even tried putting them on the tree, but, they just cried. But, suddenly they got inspired and flew up that damn tree so fast, I had to yell at them to be careful. They don't climb safely yet. It's a learned skill.

They went very high up and had several close calls. I was frantically standing under them to catch them. But, then they got the hang of it and LOVED it. They played and fought and chased each other, in absolute joy. I sat in a lawn chair, in the shade and smoked cigs and let them have hours of fun. I didn't realize I was out there over 5 hours! Finally, evening was coming along with supper time, so I called them down. In English, they knew what I wanted, but, ignored me. So, I talked Coon to them. I gave them the calls I'd heard mother coons make. It worked, the little girl came right down to me and kissed and loved on me. I took her inside, put a fan on her and fed her all her fav goodies. Then I went back to get her brother. He was having no part of me. He was being a total asshole and pretending to ignore me. He got so far up, I couldn't see him. As you can see, they blend right in with the bark. I worked at it for an hour and then, sweating and frustrated, I gave up. I kept checking thru the kitchen window to see if he'd come down for the food and water I left, but, nope. I was near panicked for him. Jesus, he thinks he can go out on his own, but, he's far to young and little. Finally, I was standing out there at midnight (he'd been up there since 11 am) with a flashlight and a box a cheese crackers. I stuffed them in my mouth and chewed really noisy and smacked my lips, saying, 'yummmmm, nummies'. It finally worked. He came down, grabbed a cracker from me and I grabbed him. He went bananas and growled like a werewolf and bit the hell out of my hand, drawing blood. I held him close and he relaxed and nosed into my armpit where he feels safe. He was happy to see his sister and all the food. His sister, on the other hand, ignored him. She had been crying in the cage and I assumed she missed him. I even took her out to call him down, but, she wouldn't talk to him. Turns out she was crying for me and fuck him, I guess. Raccoons are so complicated. Anyway, I nearly died of heat stroke because that little fucker wont mind his mother and he's too big for his britches. I forgave the bite. After all, I did foil his escape plan. That would piss me off too. He's fine now.


Lissa is having a birthday bash in the backyard. I have to get busy decking it out. She's 12, you know. Not a baby, so no stupid baby stuff, I am told. Ordered, I guess. This drone will comply. I'll take pics. I will also take pics of me and the elusive crabster. \You will be surprised at how cute he is.

Oh, and I have a plan for Huffle Coon. I am going to hire someone to put a shelter in the tree and I am making feeding stations IN the tree. He can live in it, if he wants to that bad. Little girl will go inside with me, until she decides. The tree is perfect. I can hear if he's bothered by a grown Raccoon and he will never have to come down until he's bigger and ready to. It's a compromise. I told you, these two are different. I have never had one want to go out at this age. It's crazy. But, I'm going to let him.

Click that.I ordered white iron curly cues for the porch poles. I guess they're actually shelf supports, but, fuck that. They look perfect and I love them!

I might order some more for the sides. I just love iron work. I think I did pretty good. I put them up myself at 3 am in a terrible storm. I was bored and wouldn't wait for crabbie to get to it. My hands are too arthritic now to use a screw driver, so I nailed them on. They seem stable enough to me. What do you think? And what's up?

Coons in my window

Nosey little beggars playing in the window. Then the storm scared them and the boy shit ALL over me. Even my shoes are in the washer. They are getting big fast and need outside time, but, it's been too hot for more than half and hour in the evening. This humid heat is just brutal. But, they think they need out of that cage all the time and every time I walk by, they beg and hold out their little hands. I pacify them with treats and toys, because these two are a handful! I aint kidding. Man, they're active now. Fighting and screeching. They love it when I get in the cage with them so they can have face time and steal my glasses and unravel my hair. The boy has finally accepted me as his mom and he kisses me and pats my face, but, I always have to warn him that I'm picking him up or he goes into full attack mode. He's still afraid sometimes. The female is just the opposite and anytime I open the door she hurls herslf at me in a mock attack. It's hilarious and fun. She won't let go of me when she gets on me. I think I'm looking at two more months of this. These two learn really fast and I'll bet they can go out on their own earlier than usual. I haven't decided where to release them yet. I want them here, but, I'm not sure that's best. We'll see.

Monday the 13th

Fighting over a baby bottle. They only get the ba-ba with their late night feedings now. They are really healthy and doing well. I call the boy 'Huffel-Puff'' because he huffs and growls still. He's just scared sometimes. He doesn't bite hard. His sister, I call 'Velcro' because she is lovey dovey and it feels like Velcro when I pry her off me. They both climb my leg when we go outside.

And the winner is....little sister. She is so aggressive with him over food. Which is the opposite of when  I first got them. I guess she got tired of being pushed around.

Weaning...they're taking to solid food really well. The favorite by far is boiled eggs with formula poured over it. They also love dry cat food and peanut butter cookies.

They are just the age to start real playing. They have such fun chasing the cleaning rag and capturing it when I wipe out the cage. We play tug of war and hand wrestling with much humping, jumping and growling. This is such a fun stage in their development. Crabbie said maybe I'm the Coon whisperer. I said, I think I am, 'cause I love everything about them and I understand what they say. I think he was making fun of me, but, it went over my head. He still won't hold them. Not even the tame little girl.

So, what are you  up to?