Anything Goes

If you haven’t read “Essence,” its below in my Saturday post.

“Essence” was born of a series of events and an incredible, at least to me, transportation in time. When I arrived in Tübingen, West Germany, I was assigned to a dorm with four or five other exchange students on my floor. There was a communal kitchen on each floor and ours had a very peculiar smell. Not necessarily bad, but different. I can’t even recall the smell as I sit here, it was so peculiar.

I do recall there was a counter around most of the room. A couple of sinks, cabinets, a table with a formica covering, tile floor, and once a day, the sunlight sat in the room at the perfect angle to illuminate the dust motes. Having rooted around somewhat, I found a jar of peanut butter, one of my favorite things to eat. There was only one non-exchange person on our floor. A medical student who was very friendly, but he spoke no English. Well, that’s another story.

The time I spent in Tübingen was very frustrating, new, exciting, lonely, and anxiety riddled. It was very difficult even with the quick friends I had made. We were in an intensive language course, designed to give us the best chance at being able to communicate with our families and others. I had trouble with my blood sugar and spent time in the emergency room with panic attacks. I cannot say it was a wonderful time, nor can I say it was terrible. I have a great many memories of that time, fast and furious memories. As fast as the time we spent there.

One of my friends was Bill. He was from Pennsylvania and had a U2 tape which I borrowed. “New Years Day” was on that tape. I played it to the distraction of everyone around me. Can you hear the song in your mind? The opening bars? When I close my eyes, I can hear it and still see the view as I walked the short distance from my room to the kitchen, the jar of JIF on the corner of the counter, the peculiar smell, the dust motes.

I left there, never to return. Or so I thought.

After I returned from Germany and settled back into my life here, my mind would wander back to my time overseas, but rarely, if ever, to that kitchen in the dorm. The memories at the forefront of my mind were those of my family and friends in the town I had lived. Until one day, my friend G.G. and I were out running around, picking up vodka and orange juice for the weekend. I believe, if my memory serves me correctly, we were sitting at a gas station. She climbed back in the car, dumped one of my favorite snacks in my lap, and then turned the car on.

I heard the opening bars from “New Years Day” and I saw her hand go out to change the channel. I remember stopping her and then I wasn’t there anymore. I was standing in the doorway of the dorm kitchen and that smell, that peculiar smell was all around me. The peanut butter jar, the dust motes, the feelings, especially the anxiety was right there. I wasn’t looking at myself standing in the doorway. I was standing in the doorway. I could feel the chill that only concrete and tile has.

It was so fascinating I wanted to stay there. I wanted it. I wanted to go back. I missed my exchange friends, I missed my family, I missed my other friends. Regardless of the overpowering feelings of angst and loneliness, I wanted it. It was the beginning of the one of the happiest times of my life. It was the beginning of one of the few times I have ever felt accepted completely based on who I really was. I was expected to change, expected to be different, and I tried to hold onto it.

I couldn’t though. Literally, it was like my focus shifted and I was right back where I had been. My hand still on G.G’s, “New Year’s Day” still playing on the radio. I looked over at her and she had a very confused, questioning look on her face.

“Where the hell did you go?”

“Germany.” I felt the tears fill my eyes and I looked away as they ran down my cheeks. I cried the tears I probably should have cried then. I let my pride down and allowed the feelings I had denied and shoved down inside overwhelm me, and as I cried, I let them go.

I have had instances where a particular smell has brought back memories. I have had instances where a particular song has brought back memories. That time though, was the only one where the emotion was tied to both, and it was the music that lead to the smell, which lead to the emotion, which lead to the music, which lead to the smell, and on and on.

That is “Essence.”

If you haven’t read “Essence,” its below in my Saturday post.

“Essence” was born of a series of events and an incredible, at least to me, transportation in time. When I arrived in Tübingen, West Germany, I was assigned to a dorm with four or five other exchange students on my floor. There was a communal kitchen on each floor and ours had a very peculiar smell. Not necessarily bad, but different. I can’t even recall the smell as I sit here, it was so peculiar.

I do recall there was a counter around most of the room. A couple of sinks, cabinets, a table with a formica covering, tile floor, and once a day, the sunlight sat in the room at the perfect angle to illuminate the dust motes. Having rooted around somewhat, I found a jar of peanut butter, one of my favorite things to eat. There was only one non-exchange person on our floor. A medical student who was very friendly, but he spoke no English. Well, that’s another story.

The time I spent in Tübingen was very frustrating, new, exciting, lonely, and anxiety riddled. It was very difficult even with the quick friends I had made. We were in an intensive language course, designed to give us the best chance at being able to communicate with our families and others. I had trouble with my blood sugar and spent time in the emergency room with panic attacks. I cannot say it was a wonderful time, nor can I say it was terrible. I have a great many memories of that time, fast and furious memories. As fast as the time we spent there.

One of my friends was Bill. He was from Pennsylvania and had a U2 tape which I borrowed. “New Years Day” was on that tape. I played it to the distraction of everyone around me. Can you hear the song in your mind? The opening bars? When I close my eyes, I can hear it and still see the view as I walked the short distance from my room to the kitchen, the jar of JIF on the corner of the counter, the peculiar smell, the dust motes.

I left there, never to return. Or so I thought.

After I returned from Germany and settled back into my life here, my mind would wander back to my time overseas, but rarely, if ever, to that kitchen in the dorm. The memories at the forefront of my mind were those of my family and friends in the town I had lived. Until one day, my friend G.G. and I were out running around, picking up vodka and orange juice for the weekend. I believe, if my memory serves me correctly, we were sitting at a gas station. She climbed back in the car, dumped one of my favorite snacks in my lap, and then turned the car on.

I heard the opening bars from “New Years Day” and I saw her hand go out to change the channel. I remember stopping her and then I wasn’t there anymore. I was standing in the doorway of the dorm kitchen and that smell, that peculiar smell was all around me. The peanut butter jar, the dust motes, the feelings, especially the anxiety was right there. I wasn’t looking at myself standing in the doorway. I was standing in the doorway. I could feel the chill that only concrete and tile has.

It was so fascinating I wanted to stay there. I wanted it. I wanted to go back. I missed my exchange friends, I missed my family, I missed my other friends. Regardless of the overpowering feelings of angst and loneliness, I wanted it. It was the beginning of the one of the happiest times of my life. It was the beginning of one of the few times I have ever felt accepted completely based on who I really was. I was expected to change, expected to be different, and I tried to hold onto it.

I couldn’t though. Literally, it was like my focus shifted and I was right back where I had been. My hand still on G.G’s, “New Year’s Day” still playing on the radio. I looked over at her and she had a very confused, questioning look on her face.

“Where the hell did you go?”

“Germany.” I felt the tears fill my eyes and I looked away as they ran down my cheeks. I cried the tears I probably should have cried then. I let my pride down and allowed the feelings I had denied and shoved down inside overwhelm me, and as I cried, I let them go.

I have had instances where a particular smell has brought back memories. I have had instances where a particular song has brought back memories. That time though, was the only one where the emotion was tied to both, and it was the music that lead to the smell, which lead to the emotion, which lead to the music, which lead to the smell, and on and on.

That is “Essence.”

I was pilfering around on AJ’s site this morning, hoping I would see that he has posted, which he hasn’t, when I clicked on his profile, not sure if I had ever read it. Blogger puts random posts up below that and I started reading part of his “Deja Pew” post, where he talks about how scent is linked to memory. Which reminded me of Crypto encouraging me to post some of my fiction. Fiction about scent. But this is not fiction. This is actually something that happened to me one day. Okay, it is a bit fictionalized or rather… hard to explain.

Nate and I are going out and about today, visiting The Clay Center, where we’ll see “Dolphins” in the IMAX theater, “Mars” in their planetarium show, visit the museum, and do all sorts of neat things with the science center. Then we’re visiting T-Bird’s mom and after that having dinner with my parents and my dad’s Seabee buddies. Its also my dad’s 63rd birthday. Happy Birthday Daddy!

Essence

It happened as the stoplight changed from green to yellow, U2 singing about New Year’s Day, transporting me along the mythical lines of space and time, those of dreams, premonitions, and remembrances.

I arrived in a vortex and noticed the smell. Our lives are inundated by scents - food, soap, laundry detergent, fabric softeners, perfumes, colognes, never one, but many, mixed in the right combination to form our essence. Some betray our profession, some our sins. Places hold this essence as well. Must, mold, mildew, candles, potpourri, dogs, cats, rats or just the essences of many humans who pass through.

So it was as I arrived in the kitchen of the dormitory where I lived just a month. I could hear my music down the hallway, U2 singing about New Year’s Day. It smelled of medieval history and the essences of many. The peanut butter jar sat on the table, the sunlight cut the dust, and my feelings were still there.

My stomach tightened, the essence of my angst and loneliness still lingering there. Even so, I wanted to stay, to experience those new and harsh feelings again, so I could be as strong now as I had been then.

I could not hold onto it, my eyes focused forward, the light changed green, and U2 sang about New Year’s Day.

I was pilfering around on AJ’s site this morning, hoping I would see that he has posted, which he hasn’t, when I clicked on his profile, not sure if I had ever read it. Blogger puts random posts up below that and I started reading part of his “Deja Pew” post, where he talks about how scent is linked to memory. Which reminded me of Crypto encouraging me to post some of my fiction. Fiction about scent. But this is not fiction. This is actually something that happened to me one day. Okay, it is a bit fictionalized or rather… hard to explain.

Nate and I are going out and about today, visiting The Clay Center, where we’ll see “Dolphins” in the IMAX theater, “Mars” in their planetarium show, visit the museum, and do all sorts of neat things with the science center. Then we’re visiting T-Bird’s mom and after that having dinner with my parents and my dad’s Seabee buddies. Its also my dad’s 63rd birthday. Happy Birthday Daddy!

Essence

It happened as the stoplight changed from green to yellow, U2 singing about New Year’s Day, transporting me along the mythical lines of space and time, those of dreams, premonitions, and remembrances.

I arrived in a vortex and noticed the smell. Our lives are inundated by scents - food, soap, laundry detergent, fabric softeners, perfumes, colognes, never one, but many, mixed in the right combination to form our essence. Some betray our profession, some our sins. Places hold this essence as well. Must, mold, mildew, candles, potpourri, dogs, cats, rats or just the essences of many humans who pass through.

So it was as I arrived in the kitchen of the dormitory where I lived just a month. I could hear my music down the hallway, U2 singing about New Year’s Day. It smelled of medieval history and the essences of many. The peanut butter jar sat on the table, the sunlight cut the dust, and my feelings were still there.

My stomach tightened, the essence of my angst and loneliness still lingering there. Even so, I wanted to stay, to experience those new and harsh feelings again, so I could be as strong now as I had been then.

I could not hold onto it, my eyes focused forward, the light changed green, and U2 sang about New Year’s Day.

Got home yesterday and I saw the distinctive white-with-green-triangles-border envelope which I normally send queries in. This envelope was beat up and covered with black magic marker. I walked up and grabbed it off the top of my mailbox. It was to my friend Jeremy in Iraq. But he’s been home for two months….

The postmark - September 10, 2004. Return to Sender. His address had been marked through and another address listed. Then that address had been scribbled through. Holy shit. No wonder he never wrote me back! This was about 5:10 or so. I went in the house and made sure Nate didn’t have any homework and I got the phone and called Jer.

I hadn’t talked to him since December of 2003. And… obviously we had stopped writing while he was overseas because… he never got my letter. He got on the phone and we talked for the next… almost three hours. That particular package had the first beaded bracelet I ever made in it. And photos. He said, “Send it to me here! At this rate, I’ll probably get it in July.” LOL!! He is a wonderful guy. His girlfriend is a very, very lucky lady. He’s leaving the military and going into respiratory therapy. Good for him!

He said, “I just want a job where I don’t have to kill anybody and nobody’s throwing bombs at me and trying to kill me.” Well said. And if I ever have to have respiratory therapy… drool… I’ll take that 6′4″ dude with the baby blues. He’s a very compassionate person so I know he’ll do well.

************************************

You know how I feel right now? I feel like I do when I’ve spent a month preparing for a million dollar case and it settles right before trial… when we’re getting ready to pack the cars with boxes and trial suits and the damn case settles. The adrenaline goes…pfffffffffffffffft! And we’re left with the depression, the let down. That’s how I feel. I feel that way because of the recent goings on in Blogland. I miss Jack. I miss Jack’s archives.

But I’m not gonna whine about it. I’m too devious to not try and do something about it… hee hee.

**********************************

I wrote this in a letter to a friend and had mentioned it to another blogger and they wondered if I had posted it and I hadn’t so, here it is:

You see, I could lay out topless in Europe. Go to the local beach and watch Nate play in the sand with my breasts bared. I’d watch the men behind my glasses in their Speedos, trying to look at me without getting caught. Not only me though, the other women too. All of us different, our breasts different, some women pregnant in their bikinis. I wanted to laugh sometimes, wondering why those men put themselves through the game of trying to look like they’re not looking when they were looking. They seemed interested in our bodies and then they would leave the beach and swim out to the boat line. I knew the water was deep and cold there, its where I almost drowned. I wondered if they cooled their bodies just to come back to the beach and put themselves through it again.

Have a good weekend. I’ll be making a trip by your place. Yes, you. No need to tidy up. I’ll just pop by for a minute. Oh, and I can’t remember who, but somebody had pudding on their monitor. You guys may want to check that.

Got home yesterday and I saw the distinctive white-with-green-triangles-border envelope which I normally send queries in. This envelope was beat up and covered with black magic marker. I walked up and grabbed it off the top of my mailbox. It was to my friend Jeremy in Iraq. But he’s been home for two months….

The postmark - September 10, 2004. Return to Sender. His address had been marked through and another address listed. Then that address had been scribbled through. Holy shit. No wonder he never wrote me back! This was about 5:10 or so. I went in the house and made sure Nate didn’t have any homework and I got the phone and called Jer.

I hadn’t talked to him since December of 2003. And… obviously we had stopped writing while he was overseas because… he never got my letter. He got on the phone and we talked for the next… almost three hours. That particular package had the first beaded bracelet I ever made in it. And photos. He said, “Send it to me here! At this rate, I’ll probably get it in July.” LOL!! He is a wonderful guy. His girlfriend is a very, very lucky lady. He’s leaving the military and going into respiratory therapy. Good for him!

He said, “I just want a job where I don’t have to kill anybody and nobody’s throwing bombs at me and trying to kill me.” Well said. And if I ever have to have respiratory therapy… drool… I’ll take that 6′4″ dude with the baby blues. He’s a very compassionate person so I know he’ll do well.

************************************

You know how I feel right now? I feel like I do when I’ve spent a month preparing for a million dollar case and it settles right before trial… when we’re getting ready to pack the cars with boxes and trial suits and the damn case settles. The adrenaline goes…pfffffffffffffffft! And we’re left with the depression, the let down. That’s how I feel. I feel that way because of the recent goings on in Blogland. I miss Jack. I miss Jack’s archives.

But I’m not gonna whine about it. I’m too devious to not try and do something about it… hee hee.

**********************************

I wrote this in a letter to a friend and had mentioned it to another blogger and they wondered if I had posted it and I hadn’t so, here it is:

You see, I could lay out topless in Europe. Go to the local beach and watch Nate play in the sand with my breasts bared. I’d watch the men behind my glasses in their Speedos, trying to look at me without getting caught. Not only me though, the other women too. All of us different, our breasts different, some women pregnant in their bikinis. I wanted to laugh sometimes, wondering why those men put themselves through the game of trying to look like they’re not looking when they were looking. They seemed interested in our bodies and then they would leave the beach and swim out to the boat line. I knew the water was deep and cold there, its where I almost drowned. I wondered if they cooled their bodies just to come back to the beach and put themselves through it again.

Have a good weekend. I’ll be making a trip by your place. Yes, you. No need to tidy up. I’ll just pop by for a minute. Oh, and I can’t remember who, but somebody had pudding on their monitor. You guys may want to check that.

That’s Southern speak for “G-ddamn, I’m busier than a one-armed paperhanger in an ass kickin’ contest.” Ya’ll say that in the North?

And what is up with all of the damn passwords I have these days?? Three e-mail accounts, two separate Blogger log-ins, Blogpatrol, Photobucket, Haloscan, Jeanette’s blog, my work computer, my accounting program, audioblogger, porn download, Verizon account, eMinutes, online bill paying, cell phone voicemail, home voicemail, two check cards. I even got a password on the damn PS2 so Nate can’t play Grand Theft Auto. Gahhh!! I get all dicked around and bumfuzzled and can’t remember which password goes to which username, if I can remember the user name at all. No, I don’t write them down. I mean to but I just never seem to get there.

Craft projects out the ass.

Seven books to read.

Nate is a little under seven points behind on his AR points. So, we’re going to read “The Book of Three” together. I really want him to sit and read it to me a bit and we can read back and forth. The amount of homework he’s bringing home has decreased and the teacher says he’s doing better.

His mid-term grades are all over the map. “A”s in Spelling and Health, “B” in Social Studies, “C”s in Reading and Science, “D” in Math and “F” in English. I think. I haven’t actually seen it yet as he keeps “forgetting” to bring it home although the principal called to tell me what they are. He has 2 1/2 weeks to see how things go before I do intervention.

I reminded him that he’s brought his Spelling, Health and Science up from C’s last nine weeks. He’s holding steady in Reading and Science and we just need to keep all of those where they are and work hard on bringing up the Math and English. Its like he can bring one up but then another falls. Everybody send him good vibes.

My desk looks like … a dunno a hurricane came through??? Tornado?? File folders, loose records stacked in piles and the boss keeps coming back with more files.

I started this at 8:54 a.m. and I’m just now getting the time to finish it. I haven’t had enough coffee. My parents stopped by. They have a lemon law case with my firm. My dad is so meticulous about his car you can’t imagine what hell it is for three sets of front tires to wear out in 36,000 miles and then have to listen to him about it. They think either the frame itself is bent or the spindles are wrong. It gives me a headache. The lawyer here who is dealing with him told me that now he realized I got my personality honest.

What? Do you have a problem with my personality?

Damn. Pulled off another project for another project which will put the other project behind and then that will filter to the other projects. Damn. Gotta go.

That’s Southern speak for “G-ddamn, I’m busier than a one-armed paperhanger in an ass kickin’ contest.” Ya’ll say that in the North?

And what is up with all of the damn passwords I have these days?? Three e-mail accounts, two separate Blogger log-ins, Blogpatrol, Photobucket, Haloscan, Jeanette’s blog, my work computer, my accounting program, audioblogger, porn download, Verizon account, eMinutes, online bill paying, cell phone voicemail, home voicemail, two check cards. I even got a password on the damn PS2 so Nate can’t play Grand Theft Auto. Gahhh!! I get all dicked around and bumfuzzled and can’t remember which password goes to which username, if I can remember the user name at all. No, I don’t write them down. I mean to but I just never seem to get there.

Craft projects out the ass.

Seven books to read.

Nate is a little under seven points behind on his AR points. So, we’re going to read “The Book of Three” together. I really want him to sit and read it to me a bit and we can read back and forth. The amount of homework he’s bringing home has decreased and the teacher says he’s doing better.

His mid-term grades are all over the map. “A”s in Spelling and Health, “B” in Social Studies, “C”s in Reading and Science, “D” in Math and “F” in English. I think. I haven’t actually seen it yet as he keeps “forgetting” to bring it home although the principal called to tell me what they are. He has 2 1/2 weeks to see how things go before I do intervention.

I reminded him that he’s brought his Spelling, Health and Science up from C’s last nine weeks. He’s holding steady in Reading and Science and we just need to keep all of those where they are and work hard on bringing up the Math and English. Its like he can bring one up but then another falls. Everybody send him good vibes.

My desk looks like … a dunno a hurricane came through??? Tornado?? File folders, loose records stacked in piles and the boss keeps coming back with more files.

I started this at 8:54 a.m. and I’m just now getting the time to finish it. I haven’t had enough coffee. My parents stopped by. They have a lemon law case with my firm. My dad is so meticulous about his car you can’t imagine what hell it is for three sets of front tires to wear out in 36,000 miles and then have to listen to him about it. They think either the frame itself is bent or the spindles are wrong. It gives me a headache. The lawyer here who is dealing with him told me that now he realized I got my personality honest.

What? Do you have a problem with my personality?

Damn. Pulled off another project for another project which will put the other project behind and then that will filter to the other projects. Damn. Gotta go.

I look at my links sadly. As of yesterday, yet another, YET ANOTHER! Blogger forced to close up shop. If you haven’t heard, its Jack. Yep, someone in his office found his blog. Lovisa has closed up, whether temporary, I don’t know. Dastard likewise. Kristin is out although still about. Seeker hasn’t posted since January 7th. Phoebe is on hiatus for her pregnancy and perhaps beyond. We’ve lost Sloth and Michael for a time, but lucky for us, they came back. Other bloggers have moved their URLs or simply quit due to hatemail.

We, collectively, us, we bloggers, should not feel pressure to blog. If I didn’t blog I would simply find another outlet, whether it be handwritten diaries or long letters, poetry or other forms of written expression. Sometimes I post just for me. Sometimes, like today, I post for you and me. Sometimes I would prefer not to have comments because whatever is the basis of my rant is now over for me. I’ve said it. Its done. I’m ready to move on. Comments tend to string it out though and I’m contemplating on posts that are just something I need to get off my chest and move on from, I will just disable comments for that post. Or just tell ya… no comments needed.

I hope Jack finds a way to continue blogging. I offered that you can indeed have a private blog, accessible by anyone who has the URL but unfindable in any search engine. I know. I have a private blog and I have googled, yahooed, AOLed, Dogpiled that bitch to hell and back. I figure if I can google, not the just the name of the Blog but also the URL and nothing comes back, I’m pretty sure no one is gonna find it. I even googled titles of the posts… na-da. So, I hope that is an option for him.

In other sad news, my kitten, Emmett, died yesterday. He’s been sick and then sicker and then better, getting better, and then just start that over. Seems as soon as I would get him eating good, no bowel problems, starting to gain weight, he would backslide, although all the other cats remained healthy and thriving. Monday I noticed a drainage from his ear and the unmistakable smell of infection. I knew it was an ear infection, easily treatable in a healthy feline with antibiotic ear drops, but… I knew that would probably not be the case in my little buddy. I still stopped and got the medication but pretty much knew when I got home he wouldn’t still be alive.

I knew he was ready Monday night. I got up at 1:00 to answer the phone and he followed me into the computer room. I figured he wanted me to feed him since I always made his food special. He didn’t though. He just climbed onto my lap and nestled down, purring non-stop for the two hours I sat there. Funny thing is, his brother did the exact same thing before he died.

Nate sobbed. We comforted each other, buried him together, and then talked about what a good kitty he was, how much we loved him, how much he loved us, and that love is the best thing of all. Emmett used to lay on top of or beside of my floor furnace and all evening, and this morning, I side-stepped it, like I have for the past 8 weeks, careful to not tread on his little body. Ah, yeah, that was rough. I can’t talk about this anymore….

I posted some of my drawings on my photoblog over the weekend. I did most of them in college. I also got some pics from CooterAng of the bracelet I did for her. If I can figure it out…. I’ll post it here… they may turn out huge and stuff since I don’t know much about re-sizing and all that so… deal with it. Okay.. let’s try this….

Yep, they’re huge but at least you can see the detail of the beads. And here’s a picture of a beaded sunflower which Trashman has asked me to make into a brooch for Jen.

I’ll need to fiddle around with it and order some special beads but that’s going to be fun. Hopefully I’ll have it done by the time I get to Texas. Which would mean, might be a good idea to get the template for it if I don’t have one at home. I forgot to look.

I’m still working on getting the cloth together for Savannah and EJ’s quilts. Trashman sent a bunch and I need some other fabrics to go with it. Angi sent me photos of some fabric she has I just haven’t had to time to compare and contrast it with what Trashman sent. I’m hoping after I return from NOLA/Houston (yes, seems more and more like I’m going), I can in ernest get moving on it, at least get all of the pieces cut out and then go bug my mom to help me, at least get me started on doing it right.

I’m done for today. I’ll post some pics that my cousin sent of her artwork tomorrow.

I look at my links sadly. As of yesterday, yet another, YET ANOTHER! Blogger forced to close up shop. If you haven’t heard, its Jack. Yep, someone in his office found his blog. Lovisa has closed up, whether temporary, I don’t know. Dastard likewise. Kristin is out although still about. Seeker hasn’t posted since January 7th. Phoebe is on hiatus for her pregnancy and perhaps beyond. We’ve lost Sloth and Michael for a time, but lucky for us, they came back. Other bloggers have moved their URLs or simply quit due to hatemail.

We, collectively, us, we bloggers, should not feel pressure to blog. If I didn’t blog I would simply find another outlet, whether it be handwritten diaries or long letters, poetry or other forms of written expression. Sometimes I post just for me. Sometimes, like today, I post for you and me. Sometimes I would prefer not to have comments because whatever is the basis of my rant is now over for me. I’ve said it. Its done. I’m ready to move on. Comments tend to string it out though and I’m contemplating on posts that are just something I need to get off my chest and move on from, I will just disable comments for that post. Or just tell ya… no comments needed.

I hope Jack finds a way to continue blogging. I offered that you can indeed have a private blog, accessible by anyone who has the URL but unfindable in any search engine. I know. I have a private blog and I have googled, yahooed, AOLed, Dogpiled that bitch to hell and back. I figure if I can google, not the just the name of the Blog but also the URL and nothing comes back, I’m pretty sure no one is gonna find it. I even googled titles of the posts… na-da. So, I hope that is an option for him.

In other sad news, my kitten, Emmett, died yesterday. He’s been sick and then sicker and then better, getting better, and then just start that over. Seems as soon as I would get him eating good, no bowel problems, starting to gain weight, he would backslide, although all the other cats remained healthy and thriving. Monday I noticed a drainage from his ear and the unmistakable smell of infection. I knew it was an ear infection, easily treatable in a healthy feline with antibiotic ear drops, but… I knew that would probably not be the case in my little buddy. I still stopped and got the medication but pretty much knew when I got home he wouldn’t still be alive.

I knew he was ready Monday night. I got up at 1:00 to answer the phone and he followed me into the computer room. I figured he wanted me to feed him since I always made his food special. He didn’t though. He just climbed onto my lap and nestled down, purring non-stop for the two hours I sat there. Funny thing is, his brother did the exact same thing before he died.

Nate sobbed. We comforted each other, buried him together, and then talked about what a good kitty he was, how much we loved him, how much he loved us, and that love is the best thing of all. Emmett used to lay on top of or beside of my floor furnace and all evening, and this morning, I side-stepped it, like I have for the past 8 weeks, careful to not tread on his little body. Ah, yeah, that was rough. I can’t talk about this anymore….

I posted some of my drawings on my photoblog over the weekend. I did most of them in college. I also got some pics from CooterAng of the bracelet I did for her. If I can figure it out…. I’ll post it here… they may turn out huge and stuff since I don’t know much about re-sizing and all that so… deal with it. Okay.. let’s try this….

Yep, they’re huge but at least you can see the detail of the beads. And here’s a picture of a beaded sunflower which Trashman has asked me to make into a brooch for Jen.

I’ll need to fiddle around with it and order some special beads but that’s going to be fun. Hopefully I’ll have it done by the time I get to Texas. Which would mean, might be a good idea to get the template for it if I don’t have one at home. I forgot to look.

I’m still working on getting the cloth together for Savannah and EJ’s quilts. Trashman sent a bunch and I need some other fabrics to go with it. Angi sent me photos of some fabric she has I just haven’t had to time to compare and contrast it with what Trashman sent. I’m hoping after I return from NOLA/Houston (yes, seems more and more like I’m going), I can in ernest get moving on it, at least get all of the pieces cut out and then go bug my mom to help me, at least get me started on doing it right.

I’m done for today. I’ll post some pics that my cousin sent of her artwork tomorrow.