PooMa, the Epilogue

Sometimes life just gets busy, and blogs go by the wayside. I realize almost nobody reads here anymore, on account of my sorriness at updating, but I ALSO realized I left a story unfinished. I wanna tie up loose ends, pun TOTALLY intended.

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The $125 Oil Change

I know it is normal practice for women to let men change the oil in their vehicles, I do, even if it means paying strangers money to do it. I HATE those guys, tho, cuz they always try to sell me stuff I don’t need, and I feel guilty for saying no. A while back I bought the filter and the oil to do it myself, and frankly, never did. The filter sat on my dining room table, mocking me, reminding me that I am more or less a lazy sot. It was a very LOUD filter, that one. On Monday, I decided to shut it up.

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Protected: One Step Forward…One or Two Crushed Guitars.

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MIA

I’ve been distracted lately by a project that I should have finished in September. Luckily it turned out well, and the person who asked for it was pleased. I wrote a brand new choral piece for a children’s choir in Warner Robins, and it will be performed for the first time in January, in front of a room full of music educators from my state. Fingers crossed, it will go well. The director said there’s somebody interested in helping me get it published if it does, so. Yay.

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Things I Didn’t Say, Volume 4 (I think)

“DO. NOT. SING.” Also, “OMG, somebody turn off his mic!!”

“If you play that guitar any harder, it WILL start screaming.”

“Boy, you think a lot of yourself, huh.”

“Hmm. Tell me, have you ever actually HEARD yourself play?” Also, “…and you STILL don’t know why they didn’t let you play in the other church?”

“Can’t… stay… awake… speaking voice… SOOOO… DULLLLL… zzzzzzzz”

“HONESTLY. If you want to pray for one specific thing, why open it up for EVERYBODY IN THE ROOM to pray the IDENTICAL PRAYER? There are only so many ways to say, ‘Bring us a pastor.'”

“AAAUGGGHHHHH!!! That’s my frikkin’ NEKKID LEG, cat!” Ok, I admit it. I SAID this one. Several times…

“Blah, blah, blah.”

“Oh, just shut up.”

*****

Now, look.  No comments about joyful noises and all that, ok? If you have ANY KIND of musical discernment, you would have been thinking the same things. TRUST me.  After all, I am allowed to have an opinion. As for the rest of the TIDS, my patience runs out sometimes. There are those around me who love to hear themselves talk, and frankly, it’s tiresome. ‘Poke out your eardrums with a stick’ tiresome.

I wasn’t born to be social, much. Apparently.

I am a really mean person inside, with a low tolerance for stupidity. (That’s not news, I know.) Every now and then it bubbles up and spills over, and people get their panties in a wad, but for the most part, I try to keep my mouth shut. I think that’s one of the things that frustrates me most, the shutting of the mouth. It feels like I’m lying like a rug.

Every river needs an outlet of some sort, but I find that if I try to make a comment to someone I trust, they chastise me or look at me like I’ve lost my mind, when they are-by-golly thinking the same thing. I can’t be myself, because they have let me know through silence or wrist-slapping that I’m not ok. I hate that, too. I’d like to have somebody to sit down over burgers worth and just DISH, ya know?  Somebody who will laugh at the same things instead of making me feel like a heel for wanting to laugh in the first place, or try to get me to see another point of view. Nobody’s trying to see MY POV…

And I stay here why? I seriously do not know. I only know the things I can’t say out loud to anyone, not even here, the depth of the sense of failure, anguish, loneliness, and hopelessness that slathers my every waking breath. If anybody who claims to love me knew or even cared, they’d have me locked up for my own safety.

Other than that, everything’s great! It’s a wonderful day!

WOOT!

Later…

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The Handyman Cometh … Not

If I think about things too long, I wind up needing to take an axe to a tree. I used to do that in a house I rented 20 years ago. There was a dead tree in the back yard which the homeowner didn’t want to take down, so when I got particularly angry about things, like, you know, overbearing bosses and prissy administrators, I would take my dad’s axe and get busy. I would yell and name each lick on that poor tree. It didn’t come down on my watch, but it sure took some abuse.

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Not That It Matters…

I often wonder at what point I became an intolerable whiner. I have recognized my tendencies for a long time, and while I try to change, it seems to be ingrained behavior. I am easily irritated and completely impatient with stupidity, which means I’m irritated a LOT. Little things really get under my skin. It makes me an intolerable human, an unlovable, bitter, semi-old spinster.

Note to Redbird: The annoy-a-tron has arrived and will be pressed into service Tuesday afternoon. Over.

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What I Seem to Forget

Things will work out the way they are supposed to be. I forget that I have no debt on this house, that I can rent it if need be. When I talked to the realtor today about backing out of the house deal, she completely understood, and reassured me that stuff happens all the time. Five minutes after we hung up, she called back and suggested I rent the new house until I can sell the old one. DUH. She can put a tenant in there in a couple of hours. The bank thinks the extra financed amount will be ok, and somebody has 3 free rooms of brand new carpet to give away that I can put in the bedrooms. It has actually already been claimed by somebody who also doesn’t need it, and who has told me it’s mine if I want it.

I am truly afraid to be excited.

It seems like an easy decision, and it would be if I had a real job or a mate. It’s scary as heck to know I’m the buck’s wall. It stops full force with me. Urghhhhh.

*gnawing fingernails*

OK. I’m gonna do it.

Wish me luck.

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Can I Just Go Back to Bed, Please?

Let me apologize ahead of time for the disgusting content of today’s post. If you are a parent, most likely nothing can turn your stomach, so read on. If you are a pet owner, you’ll understand. If you are neither, you miiiiight wanna come back another day. Heh.

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One Singular Sensation…

I bought my plane ticket today! I am NY bound the end of this month. I am actually a little excited, if for no other reason than it is NOT IN GEORGIA. I know the truth about this trip: my friend is a bit of an exaggerator, and even tho he SAYS he’ll introduce me to the people whom he SAYS want to hear my music, that doesn’t mean it’s what it sounds like. Then again, maybe it is, and I am being pessimistic for nothing. Either way I’ll probably see a show on Saturday, then be back home Sunday afternoon. Those darned kittens are too small to be left alone for longer, or I’d stay an extra day.

Ivy had her babymaker taken out yesterday, and she’s home and sleepy. Poor widdle baby, wobbling all over the house, seeing if she missed anything important. I found one of the babies running through every room this morning, rubbing full-body up against everything he could. I guess there are so many smells he felt the need to cover some up with his own. Either that or he was really itchy. It was so cute..he’s only about 6″ long, so it’s not like it was an easy job to cover all that territory.

You know, the neighbor/owner still hasn’t shown the slightest interest in the mama or her babies. I think people like that should be shot. The death of Eight Belles this weekend was fodder for a regional radio show on Monday, the Rick and Bubba Show. I love those guys. Really, I do, but they seem to have forgotten that the heart of a nation can be judged by its treatment of those in slavery to it. That goes for the American worker, struggling to feed his family, and it goes for the innocent, both human and animal, who are dependent on adult humans for their survival. Make no mistake: we are all slaves here, if only to our own way of life.

When we make sport of death, exploit workers, kill fetuses for our own convenience, abuse the elderly, and neglect, exploit, and abuse animals, we are showing our true heart as a country. We complain about the murders in Darfur and the deaths at the hands of terrorists, but it never occurs to us as a nation that leaving an animal tied up or caged to starve to death because we can’t provide for them or don’t have “time” for them is just as evil, just as wicked. It makes me sick. It makes me weep at night to be so helpless, to not have the money to save them all and punish their abusers. It makes me want to cage people who denigrate PETA and the ASPCA, tie them to trees with no food or water for days on end in the summer sun, set them free to be hunted in the woods for sport. Maybe if a few rich entitled princes were locked in basements of foreclosed homes to starve to death, somebody would get the point.

*stepping off my soapbox*

Later.

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