Dopeless HOPE Fiend

Go!!!

2006-02-23T05:37:06Z

The Goofies kickin' it with The Ronald. Taken Thursday, February 16, 2006 (image © fugitive247) [see more]

Our time in town is drawing to a close, thank Goddess! We should be situated out on our 30 acres within the next two weeks. None of us can wait! This past week has been particularly edgy here at the rental Casa due to the winter storm. I can't remember the last time I did so much baking. Thing is that this was borne out of need for an additional heat source more than anything else. This overpriced shell of formed stiffened cheesecloth was friggin' cold, man!

It wasn't all horrible, though. We managed to have some fun despite layers of extra clothes and cabin fever. The goofies must've watched every kid vid we have at least two times, plus we were gifted with some animated treasures that Pat loved back in the early 90's. The goofies are totally digging them now.

Any other Pirates of Darkwater fans in the house?

What have I been doing since the last entry besides cooking? Plenty! I've always got activities here in Cyberia. Then there's been a lot of email tag with loved ones regarding other loved ones and concerns from folks in Florida that we're going to freeze to death in a region they may fear as being only a tad more sophisticated than "Bumblescum."

I've also been working on a new long-term project that's been challenging me to flex, refine and enhance all manner of mad web and graphics design skillz. This is between engaging in spurts of what could become a new addiction for me: Urban Dead. This has become such a microcosm unto itself that I even started an IC (In Charecter) journal revolving around my gameplay experiences. I can see a whole new sect emerging in Malton if all goes well. In the meantime, feel free to check it out...

Noooooo... My sparkly browns are not starting to look like little monitor screens! I've also been planning this upcoming season's vegetable garden. This maiden undertaking is initially only including tried and true standards until I know just what kind of condition the homestead's soil is in, and what grows best. I'll be starting early enough that other goodies can be added to the veggie-rama in short order.

Seeds purchased so far:

Marketmore 76 cucumbers
tomatoes (Romas and Rutgers)
Black Beauty zucchini
straightneck yellow squash
California Wonder bell peppers (red/green)
Kentucky Wonder, rust-resistant (a regional PIA) pole beans
jalepenos (for Pat, of course)
catnip (Pat's long-missed passion)

Well... That's enough outta this grrrl. **whew** It was too cold this past week to futz with re-packing the non-essentials. I'd best get started tomorrow. The sooner we get things wrapped up, both figuratively and literally, the sooner the rental Casa's slumlord will have to color us...

~~* gone ~~*

privacy policy - READ IT.

Get Set...

2006-02-08T12:34:19Z

Pat and I have busted our butts the past two days. The shack is still standing, but is a definite off-limits area for the goofies. Pat and I are more concerned with getting the house cleared out quickly so we can begin basic repairs. I took almost two dozen pics of the place on Monday, but only a few are posted on Flickr right now. The whole lot are "before" shots, and simply too depressing to share at this time. It's truly scary how the ravages of addiction can reduce one's standard of living to the remnants we've been burning the past few days.

Yes, I said burning. The fire pit's size has been expanded out of necessity. In the past two days it's consumed 5 disgusting armchairs, two mattresses, one box spring, a dresser, dozens of lameass romance novels and other assorted paperback crap, a mishmash of mildewed couch cushions and threadbare bedding, and an easy 60 lbs. of the tackiest synthetic fiber garb I've seen since the late 70's. The house cheered as each load of festering insults was removed. My mantra: Burn baby, burn!!!

There's still 3 couches, more textile horrors, and all the carpeting to be removed. Hopefully the upcoming 3-day weekend will allow us the time needed to wrap up this activity. Then there's the matter of the utility room/pantry. Not only are there clothes and trash covering 80% of the floorspace, but this is the boonies. It's par for the course that home canning is a popular sport. Even if the previous occupants weren't participants, they sure were fans. Come view fugi's Pickled Punks... [definition]

Step right up, ladies and gents!

For only two bits you can be shocked and amazed at this curious collection of deviations most folks don't discuss in polite company. Don't be shy- they won't bite, honest...

Here we go. Into the tent, folks! Wait- what's this??? Oh no-- I see some empty jars on the shelves. This can only mean one thing...

ESCAPEES!!!

Well, Goofy #2 is up and about now (6:30 am). I'd best get some chow into this little eating machine. His appetite lately is certainly more of an immediate threat than whatever those jars once contained. ;oD

privacy policy - READ IT.

Get Ready...

2006-02-01T08:18:26Z

I was looking at the info for the image above on Flickr. It states that the pic was taken January 1, 1980. That can't be correct. No way, no how. Yes, the tree, a lovely Eastern Redbud (Cercis canadensis), is much taller now. But 26 years taller? I think not. I'll be taking some new pics of the property this week for some before & after material. Comparison will be easier then.

Anyway, that shack is coming down, baby! It's structurally unsound. There's too much that needs to be done on the property, and Pat and I will probably have at least one goofy with us whenever we're out there working. That decrepit eyesore is a liability where safety is concerned. I've got a saw (nope, no chainsaw... yet), a heavy-duty tow rope and a big honkin' van. The fire pit I started in late November is located just below the image's bottom edge. Need I say more? Also, all that rusted crap by the tree is going to the property's side access about a quarter mile back.

The property is gorgeous, but needs a major dose of TLC. The last resident was the son of the former owner. Said son and entourage were not well liked within the community. The land was abused in many ways, including having been used as a salvage yard. The house... I really don't want to elaborate. I will say that several of the long-time neighbors have cautioned Pat and I to be wary of "getting stuck" when we get rid of all the crap within. Upon cursory inspection we noticed an early 90's calendar from a nearby Missouri liquor store (this is a dry county), many pieces of assorted unemployment and public assistance info, and an empty prescription bottle from one of my former fave pharmaceutical manufacturers: Lemmon (the fine folks who cranked out Quaaludes).

Since no one has "officially" lived there in ages, the house is in shambles. Still won't know all that requires basic repairs until it's empty. The list so far:

replace one exterior door
board up other exterior door
board up holes in exterior walls
cover broken windows
check electrical wiring
upgrade fuse box and outlets
install new well pump
check and flush septic & plumbing
install new water heater
install new major kitchen appliances

Then there's the outdoor tasks:

remove and burn overgrowth and fallen trees
clear initial areas for workshop, planting and animals
build initial pen, coop and hutch
clear and haul scrap/debris to appropriate locations

Geez- I'm getting tired just thinking about it all. At least there's some fun "to do" things as well like hanging a tire swing for the goofies, teaching them and Pat how to put a worm on a fishing hook (not quite as fun as live shrimp a la my Florida fishing days), and teaching the goofies the fine art of roasting marshmallows over a fire. Speaking of fires...

The fire pit holds a special purpose. Of course there are the givens of providing warmth, a family gathering point, a means by which to cook and dispose of dead wood and other non-carcinogenic refuse, and keeping the unseen nearby nocturnal critters at bay (mostly 'possums and huge armadillos). It is a bonfire pit in the truest sense.

During the property's long period of vacancy much poaching had occured. The area is teeming with all manner of wildlife, especially deer. The trespassing hunters were killing then using chainsaws to remove the creatures' heads (taken for trophy purposes), stripping them of hides and meat, then leaving the ravaged carcasses for the carrion. Many skeletons have been discovered on the front section of our land.

This wastefulness and utter disregard for the sanctity of these creatures offends me to no end. Yes, deer are meat and I am an unapologetic carnivore. The non-meat byproducts are good for many practical uses. But when one finds skeleton after skeleton, each bearing evidence of a brutal end... It sickens me still. And it breaks my heart every time more bones are found for I know in my gut that the ones responsible took those creatures' lives for granted. At least in the purity of flames, their spirits are finally liberated.

There are two recently discovered skeletons near the house in need of burning. We haven't even ventured deeply into our property yet. No telling how many more Pat and I haven't found. The goofies know that meat comes from animals. They know that the hamburgers on their plates were once an animal that was killed. They know to give thanks for food, especially in an area where probably at least a dozen families don't get enough to eat on any given day. What they've not yet been exposed to are the realities of hunting and farming. Explaining how and why these skeletons came to be is not the way I want them to learn about such matters. I'm hoping that one of our friends can babysit the goofies during the next bonfire.

Well, most of the neighbors out there know us now. Good folks, too. Several have been gracious enough to offer assistance if we need it. They sure didn't like the last crew slumming there, and that the owners basically left the place to rot after their son moved out. At least the roof on the house looks good, and the interior walls seem sound. I can handle roughing it for a little while as long as the place is safe. But like I said, there's mucho work to be done before that happens.

privacy policy - READ IT.

Sorting the Benign Stuff from the B.S.

2006-01-25T17:49:02Z

I love Sticker Giant!!! image © Fun Originals, 2005

Oh, wow- this is a rarity... 10:00 am on a weekday and the Casa is quiet. Shhhh... Pat & Goofy #2 are napping peacefully on the couch. Now if the phone would quit ringing maybe- just maybe- I can actually squeeze in a decent entry. I'd cross my fingers, toes and eyes, but that sure would lead to some whacked looking text, huh? ;oD

I just loooove it when someone mistakes kindness for weakness. I looooove it even more when same mistakenly assumes I'm too naive to detect such excercises in futility. And the proverbial icing on the cake is when two parties try to suck me into the middle of their immaturity. Guess what? To borrow from a colloquialism, "That dog don't hunt here!!!"

Some folks think they know me better than they do. Funny thing is, this has even happened with people who've known me for double-digits worth of years. I study people. Closely. Their words, actions, speech, mannerisms, the whole enchilada. Eventually everyone displays their "tell", some more quickly than others. Usually though, my B.S. radar has already been tripped at least once.

I can hear the questions now... "So, what's got your panties in a wad?" Maybe something. Maybe nothing. It's NOYB, regardless. "Okay... Why are you even going here?" Excellent question!!!

I've been meaning to cover this for quite a while. Now just seemed like a good time. There are certain defects of character that I've worked damned hard to modify for longer than I care to admit. Then there are others that, thank Goddess, I've been spared (maybe I already met my max quota? **LMAO**) which I simply will not abide in personal and/or professional dealings. Thing is, being in a microcosm where the degrees of separation get figuratively incestuous, I have neither the time nor patience to trifle with this bullshit. And I won't.

There are some things that just don't fly with me: gossip, dishonesty, covetness with an agenda, grandeously assumed sense of entitlement, grossly over-inflated egos... Hell- gossip alone runs down more decent people than drunk drivers! I'll put it this way. If ever I should have occasion to patronize a beauty salon in town I'm going in at the last minute and wearing some bud-style earphones so I don't have to listen to the hen party. I could give a rat's ass what anyone might think or say about me. It's really none of my business. Heck, if anyone ever has occasion to negatively flap their lips where I'm concerned, at least some poor, defenseless soul will be spared, ya know?

"Hold on, Chris. Don't you think the beauty parlor reference was a bit sexist?" Okay. Change the location to anywhere that suits you. Laundromat. Hardware store. Post office. Gas station. It doesn't matter where it occurs. The yapper's gender is immaterial. The unspiritual practice of talking trash about someone to build up one's own ego is just plain sad. Note: There's a difference between pointing out general mindsets than picking individual victims. The exception to the rule is when specific people are discussed purely on a cautionary level (ie: "Don't rent from so-and-so. S/he's been known to request sexual favors in lieu of payment. S/he tried to pull that stunt last month on a close friend of mine.") However, the latter form of communication should be excersized only on basis of credible source- not general hearsay.

An hour and forty minutes later, my wonderful guys are beginning to stir. I know shorty's going to be ravenous. I think he's gearing up for another growth spurt. Anyway... I'd best prepare something for lunch. Ciao for now!

privacy policy - READ IT.

Multi-Shot

2006-01-20T18:24:28Z

I had a sneaking suspicion that I'd be posting two entries today, but I didn't think it'd be quite so soon for this one. Who knows- maybe there will be a 3rd w/i 24 hours? It's been a looong time since that's happened. Place yer bets!

Well, several folks have been wanting my undivided attention in some manner (via email or IM mostly) with the expectation of recieving news about the Casa del fugi crew. Apologies, but I simply do not have time for individual replies. Besides, I respect my genuinely interested family of the blood and/or the heart too much to pull an outmoded, duplicate cut-n-paste on y'all. However, one request in particular warranted this post. Everyone reading can thank my groovy li'l seester for her appreciated concern. The Blessing Box (Master Ho's Reality Box [site] [chat]) update below should help fill in some blanks. I only wish I could've kept some of this to myself until complete facts are in...

Dear Ho and Boxers,

It's been a challenging time of late. A few weeks ago I found a disturbing almond-sized, tender lump in my left breast. Given that my mom had a double mastectomy this past summer, I'm more than a little concerned. I just turned 40, so my first mamogram is really called for ASAP. At least head-wise, I'm thrilled to announce that it's been 5 months since I ditched the bipolar meds. At 10.5 years clean & sober now, I've been blessed these past 159 days to finally start learning who the real "me" is. It's about f*cking time, huh? Best thing is, I can genuinely say that I like me today. ;oD

[Goofy #1] seems to be having various difficulties. I'm hoping that we don't have to travel all over the state of Arkansas to get all the medical services he needs. Right now we know he needs new PT/OT/ST/LD evals and a vision test prior to an upcoming EIP meeting. He was also supposed to have his annual neurology checkup in December, but it's not like we're still in Florida. Nearest neuro is a two hour round trip. Gas is expensive here and my cards don't have much wiggle room left.

[Goofy #2] has been a fast-forward calamity waiting to happen since he's been off his regular ADHD meds. I'm hoping like crazy that a local pediatrician will be willing to do meds management vs. us having to trek out to heaven knows where and how often.

Thank Goddess Patrick's reasonably healthy. Plus, he may be eligible for Medicaid since he's pretty much considered to be my caretaker and my SSD is our only regular income. Can't wait until the time comes when we're stable enough housing-wise and financially, that I can finally get off disability. After all, that's one of the main reasons we left Florida, where the system is designed to keep people enslaved to it.

In the meantime, it looks like I need to get the Arkansas assistance ball rolling. Then the medical issues can be professionally addressed. I don't anticipate any major differences in operation except the expediency with which cases may be processed. From what I've heard, the state services can operate at the speed of turtles racing uphill.

Housing-wise, we've been renting a potentially nice place in town since the structure on our 30 acres is currently uninhabitable. Problems with the rental are: costs certainly do not justify the rent (about as energy efficient as cheesecloth), the roof leaks in several spots including the boys' bedroom (landlord had allegedly worked on repairs this past summer- HA!!!), and it is local slumlord SOP to not give renters the legal security of a lease. Add to this that there's not even a state clause for eminence of domain... We want out. Big time. I hope that February will be our last month in this place.

Pat and I have been working on securing a construction loan which would absorb the balance owed on our land. We had paid more than half down when we purchased our diamond in the rough. We're close to settling on building plans for our home, barn and workshop. The construction loan (many available with zero closing costs) would require that only the interest be paid while in the 12 month construction period. Upon completion we can go with a nice, safe 30 year fixed FHA mortgage like we had on the Florida townhouse. And once we're locked into the FHA, we'll be eligible for the homesteading tax exemption and other cool perks and programs.

For now, though, Pat and I need to find a workable childcare situation for [Goofy #2]. Then we can bust our butts on getting the existing structure safe enough for general habitation where the boys are concerned. This will only be long enough to get the workshop, which will have a cozy two bedroom apartment on the 2nd floor, built. Then the old house gets demo-ed, and so on, and so on... Plus, I'm kind of funny in that I much prefer to pay my own sanely priced mortgage than some slumlord's insane rental rate. Not to mention that even roughing it for a short while in the old house will at least have our crew in the location where I can get a jump on starting some seedlings for spring planting, get new pens and a coop constructed, and give the boys ample space for being the happy, active little guys they are.

May our family's listing please be amended to something like "smooth regional services transition", "appropriate, competent medical services", "acceptable childcare arrangement", and "successful housing transition"?

Thanks to all of you who continue to keep Pat, [the Goofies] and me in your positive thoughts and prayers. We truly do appreciate it.

Brightest Blessings,

Chris a/k/a fugi (fugitive247)

Okay... "Downtime is mine!" sayeth the fugi. Now I don't know whether to play with some beading designs or take a much needed nap. Before I forget... I'm getting ready to ditch LJ as my blog host. When the time comes there will be no announcement, no fanfare, no forwarding URL. There will simply be no new entries here. If anyone really wants to find me it won't require a degree in rocket surgery. I'm just tired of many so-called internet communities. After 9 years it's become much like clapping with one hand. I guess that's the price one must pay for being a hexagonal peg. I'm not claiming terminal uniqueness by a long shot, but I sure don't fit into the square or round holes. Thank goodness I have no compelling desire nor need to do so. I adore the wonderful friends (family of the heart) I've been blessed to encounter here in Cyberia, and I wish to keep my genetic and "Big Room" families abreast of... whatever. It is for these reasons only that I mention this. In the meantime, stay tuned or ask me if you'd like to recieve blog update notifications. *~*~*yaaaaaawn*~*~* Yeah, naptime first, then beads! My love to y'all!!!

privacy policy - READ IT.

#FE0115

2006-01-20T12:31:10Z

The title is your only clue.
For the rest of you, here's another cool offering from Sticker Giant...

Once again, an ever-so-interesting denizen of Cyberia has chosen to make my blog their personal soapbox. That link is being deliberately placed somewhere in the middle of this entry in the default link color. Why? Because I still find it hard to believe that so many people are clueless when it comes to the simple skill of detecting hidden text. Of course, gazillions more are still bewildered by the prospect of locating, let alone deciphering (and perhaps learning from), any given page's source code. But I digress. Please forgive me.

Oh, that reminds me... During my recent Stumblings I found a page teeming with scads of popular bumper sticker slogans. Amongst the pearls and swine I found one which I could not resist:

"When cryptography is outlawed, bayl bhgynjf jvyy unir cevinpl."

Translation: "...only outlaws will have privacy."

This simple 1:1 substitution where in this example B = O and O = B surely still has many scratching their heads. **sheesh** Still, it drives home a basic truth. Here's one for ya. Figure it out, get the prize...

41534B204D452057484F204D59204752414E4446415448455220574153

Anyway... This particular stealth entry was not solely intended to exploit the less tech savvy. Far from it. If you've been reading my blogs for any reasonable length of time then you've got a basic understanding of my and my family's unusual mixed bag of challenges. Tonight I had to make a point or two where my mate is concerned, and I believe he may be getting it now. WTF?!?

Brief synopsis: My general weekdays start at 7:00 am - if I'm lucky to sleep that late. For example, I've been up since around 3:00. Since this is the only peaceful time for me where Casa del fugi is concerned, tonight I opted to spend it blogging. So far, so good. Goofy #2 hasn't woken up... yet.

I get Goofy #1 ready for school despite major interference from the not-yet-ADHD-medded Goofy #2. Easier said than done, trust me. I also make a fresh pot of coffee and make sure there's at least a cigarette or two handy for Patrick. At least 15 minutes prior to Goofy #1's and my departure I endeavor to wake Pat. An un-medded, unsupervised Goofy #2 is a scary prospect. Pat had best be marginally awake/functional before Goofy #1 and I head out the door.

I drop Goofy #1 off at school. On decent weather days when there's a load of clothing to be done I head straight up the road to the town laundromat. That 40 minutes of serenity is spent watching the Today show while cranking out a few rows on whatever knitting/crocheting project I'm doing. When the washer is done it's back to the house to hang the wet stuff out to dry. This being January, lately it's slightly frozen on the line first before actually drying. Need I tell you how many times this month alone that I've gotten the beginnings of frostbite in my fingers? Fucking OUCH!!!

On non-laundry days I usually go to the local supermarket to gasp at the prices of some of the stuff my 30 acres will be producing in the near future. I stock up on whatever significant values are on sale that week. I read any new flyers that may have been taped to the window since my last excursion. Pole barns. Lost pets. Fundraisers. Septic services. Whoa- check this out: a friggin' computer guru who has five whopping years of experience with an MS certification who makes housecalls!!! Guess that means he eats a lot of Cracker Jack and knows how to delete cache and defrag... As soon as we finally get a cell and a business license, Pat's gonna eat him for lunch- believe it. Of course he's already blessed with me for the administrative aspects- and I will ensure our success. After we're settled, we'll be deciding on an LLC or a corporation. Less headaches with almost all the benefits of incorporating if we go LLC.

Sorry... got sidetracked again. When I return back to our leaky-roofed rental house I'm lucky if I'm not the one who has to take Sir Barksalot out for his morning constitutional. No biggie if I've had a few minutes to defrost. If not, at least he obeys me fairly well in the unfenced yard off his leash. Otherwise, it's shattered-frozen-digit-city from him wanting to visit his cute li'l schnauser girlfriend next door when she's out on her lead.

Gaaah!!! Just a shade past 6:00 now, and guess who's awake? Yup. Goofy #2. So much for adding anything else to this installment. At least it's Friday and aside from taking Goofy #1 to and from school, I don't have to go anywhere except the aforementioned supermarket to swap out some DVDs. If I'm lucky, I may get some downtime later. Maybe anyone who's reading will get the benefit of two consecutive stealth entries, huh?

privacy policy - READ IT.

Fac ut gaudeam...

2006-01-14T12:56:16Z

I love Sticker Giant!!!

Been up since 4:00 am. Goofy #2 woke up before 6, took a whizz, gave me hugs & kisses, and is blisfully back asleep. Coffee's finally brewing. Regional brand, pre-ground French Roast. Seems whole bean hasn't quite infiltrated this area... yet. Still, even this robusta beats instant (shudder!!!) hands down. Crap! Shorty #2 just re-emerged from the bedroom announcing, "It's morning." My reply: "Barely." The eastern skyline is just now showing gently muted pre-dawn shades of purple, pink and orange. Ahhh... Goofy #1 is up and about now, too. So much for a blog entry, huh? It's freakin' cold here this morning. Looks like hot oatmeal is in order for them until the big breakfast when His Majesty finally wakes the hell up...

privacy policy - READ IT.

Malaise

2006-01-10T06:00:32Z

There's something in the air tonight which has me a tad unsettled. Maybe it's the wind that's been increasing in both speed and volume since sundown. Maybe it's because I wasn't able to complete my primary mission today. Maybe it's because I want like hell to call some folks, but can't find the phone card- and now it's too late anyway. Maybe it's because I wanted to finally get to the A.A. meeting tonight just down the road and couldn't- for the umpteenth Monday in a row. Maybe it's because I'd love to be able to listen to 9412's live webfeed while in the chatroom with them- but it would suck because my speakers still aren't unpacked. Maybe it's because the cheap, money-grubbing bastard from whom I'm renting this house refuses to give us the legal protection of a lease...

The definitions for "malaise" fit all too well on both scores tonight. Been trying to shake a bronchial disturbance for a week. My chest is clearing up, but the crud has migrated to my sinuses- yuck!!! The only way I could've caught this loveliness was from the Red Cross attendant who did my intake at the blood drive on the 29th. The blood mobile interview rooms are about as spacious as an airplane restroom, and she was obviously sick. **aaaa-tchoo** Gee, thanks lady. I donate a pint of my prime A+ and in return I get your funky, freakin' germs...

Oh, wonderful. The thunder that had begun to subside is returning. There is rain in the forecast for tomorrow, but I'm not in the mood to finish today's mission in it. I just hope that the roof that the landlord supposedly fixed this summer is now leak-free. Judging by the water stains on the ceiling in the boys' room, it was pretty bad. Ah, well... We need the rain. It makes things grow and stuff... Which reminds me...

I've been going through some latent mourning of a strange sort. When we left Florida I had to leave all my plants but one- my bonsai. Yes, all the rest are gone: the white, pink, and rose splashes; my purple passion; the flytraps; both varieties of spider plants; my lush aloe and jade; my peace plant; the English ivy; the nerve plant, the mystery plants my boys gave me for Mother's Day... gone. All of them. Gone.

My poor bonsai isn't exactly crazy about life, either. The climate outdoors isn't stable enough right now. The climate indoors is rather arid. Regular waterings are haphazard at best, since the only place the plant is safe is atop the refrigerator. She Of The Featherduster Tail has had to learn the hard way that fridgetop exploration is a definite no-no.

There is, however, a new addition. It actually came as a bit of a surprise. When we packed the coolers before leaving Florida I asked Pat to toss a fresh son of garlic into the cooler that held a mongo jar of dill pickles and his cache of assorted hot peppers. These jars had been in the fridge, and as is the nature of condensation, when the jars warmed they began to sweat. We didn't think anything of it until last month when that cooler was finally emptied. There was enough moisture and humidity to cause that son of garlic to sprout. The longest shoot had managed to reach 8 inches- in total darkness, no less- before our discovery! The aggregate was named "Bob." There are now about a dozen thriving Sons of B (actually "Cloves of B") anxiously awaiting introduction to soil.

Well, dear friends, the sky is about to bust some major moves. Thunder's getting worse, louder, closer. Floor is rumbling beneath my chair. Best shut this machine down for the night. Ciao for now...

privacy policy - READ IT.

H.A.L.T. 3/4

2006-01-06T10:44:19Z

Jours nettoient et sobre: 3,862
Jours sans médicament: 145

Fair warning... I don't know where I'm going with this tonight. I'm not in the best head space. Too much has been eating at me for too long and I don't have much right now in the way of creature comforts, effective temporary diversions, a trustworthy sounding board, or enough uninterrupted time and peace in which to reasonably process even a fraction of it. I'd maim for chocolate or some decent whole bean coffee. Heck- I might even kill for the right quantity and quality of both. No- don't make me an offer... I don't know yet whether or not I'm kidding. ;oD

Argh!!! It's now 4:00 and Goofy #2 is awake. So much for any time for myself. And just think... from around 7:00 am until whenever Pat's finally snoring I'm pretty much supposed to be at their disposal for basic necessities plus all the other stuff. Like what? Oh, nothing important, really. Just crap like paying the bills, being the family chauffer, going to the laundromat/bank/store/post office... Oh, one nice thing about the house we're renting: it has a dishwasher. Her name is Chris. See where I'm going with this?

I was optimistic when beginning this entry. Stupid me. I thought that I might actually get to sort through some other stuff, or at least commit it to text. I used to find much constructive value in being able to see situations expressed in words and/or images. Something tangible. Something no longer merely left to fester in the ol' brain pan. Maybe later, but I quit holding my breath for so much as a peaceful hour to myself in any given 24 a loooong time ago.

Need to pop a kid vid in the Xbox. Ocean's Eleven won't buy me even 5 minutes worth of peace in the porcelain sanctuary. Anyone up for watching Shrek for the gazillionth time? Anyone? **tap-tap-tap** Helloooo...? Is this thing on?

privacy policy - READ IT.

Arkansas: Casa del WTF?!?

2005-12-31T09:45:12Z

This condemned mobile home was just one of Huricane Floyd's victims. [see more]

And now, dear friends, I finally have the opportunity to elaborate on the use of the Ernest T. Bass image from two entries ago...

The housing standards here are like no other I've ever seen. If it weren't for state minimum guidelines where children are concerned, there likely wouldn't be any at all. And those guidelines are given considerable latitude depending on one's location. Still, there's zero excuse for the disgusting tin cans being offered for sale at Boonstra Mobile Homes in Flippin. Their crap makes the condemned tin can at the top of this entry look like the Taj Mahal. No kidding.

I wouldn't wish Boonstra's leaky-roofed, holey-walled,
busted-windowed, bug-infested, portable
caves on Ernest T. Bass!!!

But, wait... The owners of Boonstra are E.T. Basses incarnate. Really! While perusing their selection of old, abused, filthy blights I commented that none had water heaters. The thickly drawled response I got was, "Hot wawtuh heatuhs are a luxury 'roun heauh." Huh? I spied a German cockroach upon a kitchen counter, legs up, still twitching. In another Boonstra hovel there was rodent feces in the cupboards. And those were the less scary offerings. Moving right along...

The offerings in Calico Rock were slightly better. Problem was that nowadays it seems that folks recently from Florida are automatically assumed to be "Katrina people." The salesperson's eyes glazed over when he spied the fugimobile's spiffy tag which is still sporting that orange. I suppose his hearing went in that instance as well as it seems that he missed the twice-stated fact that we own 30 acres. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't waste my time on two-bit junior leaguers. Next stop: Mountain Home.

We fell in love with a gorgeous new mobile at the Clayton dealership. We have the score and digits to cover it. I did all the damned paperwork, but refused to sign any purchase contract just yet. However, I left a respectable deposit. Then he tried to tack on an assessment fee. No dice. I had my copy in hand. It had been performed only two weeks prior through Fulton County- valid, baby! Next he wanted us to pay excessive surveying fees so Clayton could subdivide 5 acres of our land to hold hostage...

The salesperson not only breached fundamental principles espoused by Jim Clayton himself, he totally pissed me off with his commission-focused tactics. I scrubbed the deal and demanded a refund of my deposit. Upon retrieving my check at their office I learned that Mr. Commission is no longer in Clayton's employ. Gee, I wonder why? And just think- I haven't even contacted Clayton's corporate HQ... yet.

What really chaps me is that Pat and I had wanted to purchase one of their homes this past spring when we bought our 20 acres in Arizona. The folks in Clayton's western region were very courteous, friendly, and helpful. My primary contact for that area even sent us an automatic $1K rebate certificate towards the purchase we were considering.

Gah! I was in a decent mood before I started recounting these headaches. It's 3:30 am now and I don't know whether I should waste my time feigning sleep or work on one of my projects. Anyway, I'm scanning the living room of the house we've been renting in town. The owner's looking to sell it, so we had our realtor begin this tango while keeping our names out of it where the owner's concerned. Long story for another time. Right now the best thing I can do is work some more on the sizzling red and black checkerboard muffler I've been crocheting for Goofy #1. Finished a yellow and black one for Goofy #2 a few days ago. He loves it. ;oD

privacy policy - READ IT.

Daily Reprieve #3,839

2005-12-15T07:11:25Z

© fugitive247

Un-friggin'-believable! Casa del fugi is finally back online for the first time since Thanksgiving and my hard re-won sensibilities get greeted with this anonymous tripe... [read]

Fear not, dear friends! I shan't be dissuaded by the ignorant spew of yet another utterly clueless wonder. Au contraire, mes amis. I had hoped to embark on the second installment of our Ozark adventures tonight. However, between cleaning up three primary email accounts and enjoying intermittent IM chats time passed rather quickly. And now I have a wide-awake Goofy #2 to coax back to bed. At least Goofy #1 is sawing logs. He started school today, so we're resuming a modicum of normalcy. ("normal"? us? shyeah, riiiight!)

Yes, I fully intend to elaborate on the use of the Ernest T. Bass pic in the last entry. It's a corker. In the meantime, thanks to everyone who has kept us in your thoughts and prayers. Your emails, snail mails, blog replies, phone calls, IMs, smoke signals, etc. continue to warm my heart.

privacy policy - READ IT.

Arkansas: The Road Trip

2005-11-24T07:01:38Z

Mayberry Deputy Barney Fife plays decoy for Charlene Darling on her wedding day and gets kidnapped by Ernest T. Bass. (image found [here])

We left Palm Bay at 8:00 pm on Wednesday, November 8th. The fugimobile was packed tighter than a Ringling Brother's clown car, and probably less comfortably. By the time we finally closed the door on our former residence for the last time I was gradually shaking the urge to draw blood from the next person who pissed me off. Heaven knows I had been just this side of carrying a gallon jug of barbeque sauce in the van for such an occasion for far longer than I care to admit.

Closing was a major headache. Normally I'm not one for bringing ethnicity into any arena, but this case warrants it. The buyer was Haitain. First tip-off. I've had more than my share of dealings with folks from the land of despots (NO details will be offered), so I was already prepared for the business end of the bullshit. As expected, he did everything in his power to screw us out of more money. He even demanded periodic walkthroughs while we were in the midst of packing in the hopes that we'd be too busy to follow him around. Shyeah, riiiight. I had already noted the large Voudon Cross he tried to conceal. Game on, pal!!!

"Voodoo", as it is commonly know by in most of the United States, is an incredibly intricate spiritual path. I respect its honorable practitioners who have taught me the differences in positive and negative usage. I also trust my gut instincts. The buyer wasn't playing nice. Cut to the chase... When I had finally had enough of his attempts I put him into check damn quick.

"My Loa do not like your Loa!"

His eyes bugged out, his jaw dropped, and he became quietly respectful. No directly confrontational problems after that, but our sweet, devoutly Catholic, Brazillian realtor was clueless. I had to explain this to her after-the-fact. I think Pat was just grateful that Mr. Haitian stepped the f*ck down before he got a magickal whompin', fugi style. And it would've been well within the Threefold Law, too. However, I highly suspect that Mr. Haitian had a hand in the challenges we encountered on our journey...

We made damned sure that our van was quite ready for the 1200+ mile trip. For more than a month beforehand we replaced the brakes, tires, old original 1986 belts and hoses, filters, got a major tuneup, the works. First leg of the trip was uneventful. We stayed overnight in Macon, Georgia. Next day went decently as well until we were almost through Alabama. Blowout at dusk on a curving steep grade. Called AAA and was told we would have priority status (90 minutes my ass!) since we had the boys with us. Thank Goddess for those huge Maglite flashlights that were donated following Hurricane Frances last year, and the Coleman Powermate Em gave us last Yule. I set the Powermate's light source at the van's back bumper closest to the road. Two hours later I'm waving speeding semis away from the shoulder they were riding- and where my family was holed up in our van. Along the treeline 50 yards away I saw a coyote slinking past. Lovely. If it weren't for the seriously dedicated Marion County deputy who stopped by to help... Hmmm... Squashed fugi... Mangled van... A lot of coyote chow...

We got towed into the nearest town and managed to get one used tire. Still need to rip AAA a new one for dropping the ball, big time. Them passing the buck to the local authorities could've cost us our very lives. And we paid for AAA premium membership for this? Heads will roll, believe it... Anyway, we made it to Tupelo, MS and crashed at a truck stop for the night. The good folks at the Tupelo WalMart got us rolling again with some nice new rubber for the road.

Around Memphis, TN I noticed the brakes were a teeny bit strange. Not mushy. Certainly not squeaky. I attributed it to the nasty roads, poor design (some cities should never exceed maximum density in favor of economic sustainability), and the locals' lunchtime rush. Once we hit open road again the brakes were a non-issue.

Arkansas- hooray!!! The flatlands were good despite all the construction. Hills were fine too, but there were storms moving in as we got into the mountains. Dusk came quickly with the darkening clouds and we still had to reach the Bull Shoals area. There was a little more than an hour's drive until we reached our temporary rental. So, here I am with a van full of two road-weary, cranky children, a pissed-off cat in a carrier, a scared little Sir Barksalot, and an aggrevated hubster who's hollering at all of them to shut up as I try to get our overly-laden conveyance to Nirvana. Of course all this was happening on an extremely twisty high mountain road with no freakin' guard rails or anything.

We hit a roller coaster steep hairpin downslope without warning.

Tap the brakes gently, repeatedly.

(Houston, we have a problem...)

Step on brakes firmly, strong staccatto rhythym.

(Uh-ohhhhh...)

Did I mention we were being tailgated by two vehicles?

Smoke starts billowing from the van accompanied by the stench of asbestos.

Jam brake pedal into the floorboard, white-knuckling the steering wheel. No emergency brake.

(Oh, shit!!! Thank you Great Mother for another 24 hours clean and sober. Today was a good day. Thank you for everything, good, bad, or indifferent. Thy Will, not mine be done. So mote it be!)

Spot a clear area on an incline. Throw tranny into neutral. Stand on brake pedal. Don't scream.

The van finally stopped forward motion at the side of a shallow ditch. The smoke was so thick that the only way I knew that there were two tailgaiters behind us was the two sets of tail lights that sped past. And the assholes never even bothered to stop. Long story a little shorter... When the brakes were done in October the mechanic didn't bother with the calipers. They were rusty and extended. The rust flaked off into the pads, friction ensued, and **voila** Fried brakes for supper, anyone?

Anyway, it's all good. Pat, The Goofies, She of the Featherduster Tail, Sir Barksalot, Donkey the Hammy, Master Fu the Betta, and I have been safe and sound since then. Well, dear loved ones, it's almost 1:00 am here on this wonderful Thanksgiving 2005. I, for one, have much to be grateful for. In the meantime, next installment might be a while off, but it's gonna be groovy. Until then, know that I'm thinking of you all as I savor a much deserved howl at the moon. {{{hugs}}} to all who want 'em...

privacy policy - READ IT.

Arkansas: GAME ON!!!

2005-11-08T14:22:43Z

Still dying to know if this sign is legit. If so, where's its location? [see more]

For anyone in the Big Room who gives a shit: We're not burning any bridges. However, I am exercising my much deserved right to raise my damned drawbridge. Next entry won't be until we hit 870. Deal with it.

*~*~*fugi over and out*~*~*

privacy policy - READ IT.

The Farewells Begin

2005-11-05T13:54:31Z

Thomas doing trampoline balance excercises during a September 2005 PT session. The lovely lady is physical therapist extraodinaire, Leslie McKibben. Hey- who's that in the left side of the mirror reflection? ;oD (image © 2005 fugitive247) [see more]

Quiet. Strangely quiet. And still. Here? At this time of the morning? Wait- fugi's blogging at 7:05 on a Saturday? Huh??? No goofies in the throes of well-rested, pre-meds, bring-on-the-cartoons hyperdrive? Something must be wrong...

Actually, no. Em, bless her heart, has graciously offered to have my wonderful li'l dynamos overnight both last night and again later on tonight. It's been over a year since Pat and I have been kidless for more than 6 hours. Amazingly enough, this time it's not under diress. [story]

If anyone's hoping for a zesty play-by-play, sorry- this blog ain't that kind of party! ;oD Yes, Pat and I enjoyed our much deserved and sorely overdue "us" evening. It was kept deliberately low-key as we're in "conservative mode" where finances are concerned. Heck- yesterday's very necessary expenses were nearly $3K. These included a big time tuneup on the van (plus replacing the worn original 1986 belts, hoses, heater regulator, etc.), two front tires, the final Florida vehicle insurance payment, and the biggie: a cashier's check for the movers. They arrive tomorrow morning. Of course they couldn't wait until Monday. **sheesh** Anyway, after that marathon in addition to the normal Friday routine, I was pretty much wiped out. Truth be told, Pat and I both crashed before Numb3rs was over. Thank goodness for the DVR...

Still finalizing certain details of our departure. The most difficult, of course, are the goodbyes. I trust we'll see certain family of the blood and of the heart again. Hopefully it will be for reasons other than sickness and/or passing. There are a few individuals who will recieve the new physical address once we're decently set up in Arkansas. These people know they have an open invitation, no reason required. Put it this way- when (not "if") the fit hits the shan on the east coast, those who don't get their butts up there in short order are on their own. It's not like we've got a helicopter to airlift anyone to safety.

Anyway, Thursday was Thomas' final session with Miss Leslie, his PT of 6+ years. During the time our families have been blessed to know eachother so much has happened. Leslie has always been there for us, both professionally and personally. We owe her a great measure of gratitude. (Miss Lena, you are definitely included- and the offer extendeds to you as well!) I still don't think the scope of our impending departure has quite hit Thomas yet. However, I was in tears as we drove off for the last time.

Sue Cannon has been, and will continue to be, a personal mentor and confidant on so many levels. Our families met several years ago through Parent to Parent of Brevard. Until recently she was our local chapter's president, and my Patrick the VP. Sue and I gelled almost instantaneously during a period where I trusted next to no one outside of Pat, 'Topher and Leslie. Her warmth, compassion, wit and honesty remain phenomenal. And this woman can cook like crazy, too! (Sue, I'd gladly peel and shred mountains of potatoes again for this year's Hannukah latkes!) What Sue doesn't know yet (at least not until she reads this entry) is that when she and my "adopted nephew" Bennett, come up to visit is that they ain't getting away that easily!!! **Muahahahahaha** ;oD We still on for dinner Monday?

Not sure yet when my contingent will be sharing the last round of hugs with Em and crew, Mom and Floyd, 'Topher and Rissa... Dang- emotionally I can't even go there right now. Getting soggy eyes just at the thought, ya know? Tuesday is just around the corner. Still so much to do. I'd best get back to it. Ciao for now...

privacy policy - READ IT.

Glass Casket

2005-10-31T06:14:31Z

Glass Coffin image © Coffin It Up [visit]

Daily reprieve #3,794

The old man has been talking to me again. He told his "draft picks" way back when that if we ever published our fourth steps online he'd haunt us. You're damned right I'll keep this perpetual fourth step going just for that reason alone. Its location may change, but my intent will always remain the same. Besides, we're only as sick as our secrets, or so I've been told. ;oD

Well, this recent series of his chidings has revolved around a concept that I couldn't really comprehend 10 years ago. Now it's time I start fleshing out my present understanding of it. When he was still physically on this plane, Tommy used to talk about this guy in a glass casket. The deceased was him, and he only came to fill that container gradually. Heck, it took him more than 20 years, and I bet only his old sponsor really knew what percentage of "disease Tommy" was in there by the time he truly recovered.

The point is that the glass casket is a visual metaphor for that which we strive to shed during our stint on this crazy rock. What it contains at any given time is solely up to its owner. It's basic to picture oneself in repose, probably in much the same physical disarray we were upon our surrender. But what about the intangibles? By these I refer to all the guilt, resentments, charecter defects, and so forth. By what symbols do we recognize these?

For the first time, right here and now, I'm going to attempt a rough inventory of what's currently in my glass casket. I'd be lying my ass off if I claimed that I don't occasionally remove certain artifacts at select times. Those not even remotely qualified to take my personal inventory will surely deem the next paragraph or two as justification, rationalization, whatever. Anyone so inclined had best remember that often what we find objectionable in others is frequently a mirror of our own flaws. At least I don't pull my punches. Got a problem with this? Call your sponsor, period.

So, what's in my casket?

Me, 29 years old. Not quite 130 pounds soaking wet. Skinny as hell, thanks to the steady diet of booze (rarely lame old beer), cocaine in several formulations, LSD, PCP, amphetamines, pain killers, muscle relaxers... The sparse meat on my bones is only attributable to marijuana munchies. The rest is hair, ass, boobs, and makeup. Corpus delecti is clad in a miniskirt cut up to there, skin-tight spaghetti strap top cut down to there, nylons, and black spike heels. Subject is wearing an assortment of ink venue stamps on hands and numerous thin, flimsy, colored plastic admission bracelets on wrists. There is a blanket of various ticket stubs and event flyers spread about the container.

Other items include: a cue stick (ego in overdrive), several sets of car and house keys (things lost), smoldering religious texts (quest for my HPs), many silver coins (theft based on resentment), an old ladies' digital watch with a clear plastic band (pointless theft), a micrometer (my ultimate resentment), a pocket-sized digital scale (criminal activity), Metrorail fare cards (escapism), a worn-out "little black book" (rampant promiscuity)...

Then there are the things that have been retro-fitted/reverse engineered because they still hold some purpose: weaponry into computers, aluminum foil into cookware, defaulted loans into decent credit, eviction notices into deeds and titles, flashy clothing into household linens, excessive shoes and accessories into kids books and toys, fake nails and sunless tanning crap into DYI texts and materials, piles of fast food into mountians of wonderful from-scratch home cooking...

Sure, there's still lots of stuff that needs to find a final resting place in my glass casket. This is just its current status. One thing's for sure, despite the physical effects of time on my person, in Gestalt terms I'm still quite better today than that bitch in the box. Goofy #2's bedtime story tonight was Margery Williams' "The Velveteen Rabbit". There was one section that best captures the essence of how I feel today:

"What is REAL?" asked Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you're made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't always happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be perfectly kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and are very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

Thank you for being part of my personal revelation tonight. Bright Blessings and {{{hugs}}} to anyone who wants 'em.

Chris a/k/a fugi

privacy policy - READ IT.

#FF4A94

2005-10-29T11:07:20Z

The title is your only clue.
For the rest of you, here's another cool offering from Sticker Giant...

Jours sans médicament: 76 et ne retournant pas!

Well, at least not until the third trimester. Yes, we have concieved. Don't know if it's celebration time yet, though. The goofies were supposed to have their last dental check-up here in Bizzarro World early yesterday morning. Woke up in moderate lower abdominal distress which only increased. By the time we were only about two miles from the house I was white-knuckling the steering wheel and in tears. Mission aborted, big time. Swung the goofies back home and told Pat to deal with it. I went straight to the emergency room.

I've been charting my menstrual cycles for over a year. I'm normally a 26 day grrl, and you could've set a calendar to their reliability. However, they've been totally whacko for several months. My recent LMP wasn't supposed to hit until 10/20. It hit on the 15th. Okaaaay...

The anticipated Mittelschmerz rolled in on 10/22, a full week earlier than ovulation should've occurred on a traditional 28 day cycle. I'd had a tad of spotting on the 26th- nothing remarkable, but noted nonetheless. Yes, there was some discomfort. But it didn't compare to the pain yesterday morning. Even my cervix was doing the watusi- no shit.

I've been wondering for over a month whether or not I may have concieved at least once since then and perhaps it just didn't take. Well, now I know. Thing is that the hCG level is very low. According to the ER staff this means that either this is an extremely recent conception (within days), or another one got away.

Mind you, I had spent a brief period working in women's reproductive health, and none of the ER staff on duty were really experienced in OB/GYN. I also had a miscarriage in June of 1999. And then there was a medically necessary termination in 1981 (already alluded to in the retired Spymac blog, full story eventually). Suffice it to say that as I grew older I made it my business to become very aware of my body. If this was the beginnings of a miscarriage it would've probably happened by now. Been there, done that, brought home a couple of chucks from the ER just in case. Right now I doubt I'll be needing them.

I got the confirmation I suspected that I am pregnant. More importantly, I'm now reassured that it's not ectopic. Dang- I hate trans-vag ultrasounds, but they do serve a purpose. Yes, this is a very new pregnancy. The gestational sac isn't visually detectable yet. I just had zero clue that my body would deliberately go into conceptual fast-forward quite like this. I trust that when I have the hCG levels re-tested on Monday that they'll have slightly more than doubled. However, I probably won't be able to get a reasonable guesstimate on EDC until late December. By then a standard ultrasound will be able to determine femur length, and other key measurements. And of course, his/her heartbeat (now detectable as early as day 18) will be good and strong by then.

My primary concern until further notice (read: at least until safely relocated to Arkansas) is to keep the inevitable stresses to bare minimum. Easier said than done, right? Regardless, I trust my HPs implicitly and Their collective will reigns whether I agree or not. I am in acceptance and gratitude mode no matter what. So mote it be!

privacy policy - READ IT.

Traffic Fatality Statement

2005-10-26T03:45:25Z

Raw satellite aerial view found via Google Local. [have fun]

I'm not even going to address Wilma except to say that my family was truly blessed. I pray this is the last weather bullet we have to dodge before we leave Florida in two weeks. Clock's ticking... loudly...

Got the call from Officer Cordeau at 8:45 this morning asking when I could come in to give my official statement in regards to the horror I witnessed Thursday afternoon. Now that it's on record, I feel that I can purge it in text with a clear conscience. Just finished editing the image at the top less than 30 minutes ago.

It was barely after 2:00 pm as I waited in my usual spot at the very end of the semicircle in front of Goofy #1's school. I'm always there by 2:00 so I can park where he won't be at risk of having to cross the driveway. Even in front of that school, some of those freaking idiot parents act like it's the Daytona 500. They seem to be oblivious to the fact that there are throngs of children crossing that patch of asphalt. Morons!!! Anyway...

My location is marked in the image as the little eyeball. My field of vision is pretty much unobstructed from the end of the driveway to the south, on northward. The trees aren't as dense as their foliage suggests. The oaks are just very old, tall and leafy. They made for a nice canopy on scorching afternoons, but I got tired of the ersatz racers two months earlier, hence the eyeball location.

I heard the motorcycle well before it ever came into veiw. It approached from the south. I went back to composing my grocery list for a moment when I heard the bike accelerate. This recaptured my attention, so I looked back toward the highway. Yes, I do have a fondness for motorcycles- as long as they're not friggin' rice rockets. I saw the car first just because its bright blue shade was hard not to notice. It was ahead in the northbound section. I reckon the driver had just corrected the huge swerve she'd reportedly made into the left lane upon leaving the side road located under the VFW lettering. The motorcycle driver, Alan Digirol, had sped up to pass her on her left. Everything seemed fine. Mr. Digirol didn't appear to be doing anything abnormal. He wasn't hotdogging, etc. He just appeared to be trying to get past this blue hatchback as swiftly and safely as possible.

10:40 pm now. I've been reviewing the pics again. Over the past few days I've managed to develop enough of an emotional detachment to study them from a technical aspect. Some things are bothering me. Problem is that since I won't publish them online, it's just me going through all the aerobics of logic, physics, and gut instinct. I will say that neither the car nor the motorcycle were bearing tags at the time the images were captured. One image contains a face-down tag which I gathered was from the car, given its size. Still doesn't explain the whereabouts of the other tag. Also, the make of the car does not have a mounted rear bumper like say, an old VW Bug. It's one of those molded styles with the tag area and rear reflectors built in to look like simply part of the lower carriage. But in one other image there's what appears to be a bumper. It may have been a running board for the bike, but its design really didn't support it. Then again I didn't see the side touching the pavement. So, WTF is it? The only damage to the car appeared on the driver's side. The door could now be used for a salad bowl. Surprised the woman didn't need to be cut out with the jaws of life...

In the dozen images were two captures of the EMTs going through the motions of trying to raise the dead. They clearly showed the point of impact upon Mr. Digirol's person. Even if he'd survived, he surely would've had a broken right hip. Hard to confirm, though, because he was a very large man who stood 6'3" tall, and was on the ample end of the BMI scale. Mr. Digirol was not wearing a brain bucket. This still pisses me off. I can't help but wonder if he might have stood a chance at surviving if he'd been wearing one. However, with his physical injuries, even if he escaped busting his coconut (indeterminate at the time, but I saw little blood from his head), the internal trauma could've taken him just as easily. Still, it was obvious that he was dead. Eyes open, nobody home. I can only suppose he wasn't pronounced at the scene because the kids were being dismissed from school about 100 yards away.

All the science and speculation still cannot erase from my memory the mental film footage of the vehicular manslaughter. Yes, you read that right. I don't even know what charges the driver has against her, but that's what I'm calling it. If anyone's got a problem with it, fucking sue me. I've still got the remnants of the first amendment backing me up, Jack. I can't simply lie to myself by repeating a mantra like, "It was a video game," or anything even remotely different than what it was: a human being taken needlessly from the Big Room in a horriffic manner. Besides, as long as I don't cave in and get as obliterated as possible just to cope... (on daily reprieve #3,789)

What's been adding to this is that it's forced vivid recollections from 20+ years ago to the surface of my waking life. During the summer of 1981 I was broadsided while crossing a major roadway in Rockville, MD. I was riding a 10-speed bike when I was struck by a big-ass luxury car. If Mr. Digirol was still alive upon initial impact with the hatchback, we both probably experienced very similar visions. Sky, ground, sky, ground... Repeat until collision with pavement. Fucking mid-air cartwheels. It's true when folks say that their lives flash before their eyes. I guess my HPs still aren't done with me yet. I'm still very much on this crazy damn rock despite more than that experience. Thy Will be done. So mote it be!

privacy policy - READ IT.

Survey says?

2005-10-23T05:38:34Z

Your Blogging Type Is Thoughtful and Considerate

You're a well liked, though underrated, blogger. You have a heart of gold, and are likely to blog for a cause. You're a peaceful blogger - no drama for you! A good listener and friend, you tend to leave thoughtful comments for others.

What's Your Blogging Personality?

Apparently this quiz doesn't take bipolar disorder and a "Zero Bullshit Tolerance" policy into account. ;oD

privacy policy - READ IT.

The quiet before the calm...

2005-10-22T01:45:23Z

What an in-friggin'-sane week... I'm actually looking forward to this hurricane. Why? So I can finally slow the fuck down for a few days! That is, with the exception of doing laundry tomorrow at 'Topher's. Other than that, if Casa del fugi ain't got it, we don't need it. In fugi-ese this translates to: I can't believe my fellow east central Floridians are so freaked about this storm! The Wilma Mania officially began yesterday evening. This determination was made due to the fact that when I stopped by a local high-volume service station this morning at 8:00 for smokes, the pumps were dry. WTF?!? Given that this is Friday, and subsequently payday for most of the citizens, y'all know I made damn sure to wrap up all my errands by 3:30 this afternoon.

I haven't been inclined to play nice online for quite a while. I offer zero apologies nor mercy for the sheer ignorance of others. Want a tame example? Read this Y! 360 entry from last week, including the comments. [link] I only reference that as a segue for the rest of this mixed bag.

I closed a certain credit card account back in July. According to the corporate gluttons, the account will only be total history after four inactive billing cycles. Here's the catch. Ready? It was a Visa card that carried a monthly membership fee. Even though I hadn't used the damn card since June, it was still assessed that stinking fee. Since the account was closed, I no longer recieved statements- otherwise I would've known! Since I was unaware that the account was still being charged the membership fees, it accrued late fees and killed my credit rating. Heads have been rolling at their corporate HQ, believe it. I refuse to deal with flunkies, and insist on securing employee ID numbers for every individual with whom I speak. I keep detailed records of all phone communications, including start/end times, length of time on hold, and who/where. Today alone I spent over an hour reaming buttmunches in America, Canada, and India. No shit. Long story short, en route as of yesterday via snail mail is a letter on Capital One letterhead which states that the account was closed in good standing back in July, it had a consistently excellent payment history, and that the current 30 day delinquency was their fault. I only wish it hadn't taken so flippin' long to finally get connected to a CSR in their investgative department.

Yeah, I really need to get those tutorials underway. In the meantime, here's a couple of gold nuggets earned the hard way. Until I have time to compose the tutorials, just remember that when dealing with automated systems, the zero button is your best friend for circumventing most of that clusterfuck. You're welcome. ;oD

Capital One Personal Accounts	Capital One Business Accounts	General Correspondence
(800) 955-7070	(877) 847-2287	(800) 548-4593

Onward!!!

All systems are still green-lighted for closing on our current residence on November 8th. Last annoyance between now and then is the buyer's appraisal. Funny how this hasn't happened prior to Wilma's soaking. Think I'm sweating it? No. This place is built like the proverbial brick outhouse. If we were going to get any damage, it would've happened last year during either Frances or Jeanne. Wilma's going to be a cake walk. Again I ask why the hell are the cattle around here in such a frenzy???

One last item I really need to purge. Had the misfortune to witness a situation that most folks would get themselves fubar over just to sleep at night. Yesterday while waiting for Goofy #1's school dismissal I saw a biker get killed about 100 yards away on US-1. I don't feel right about going into too much detail right now as I still haven't given my formal statement to the local investigator. That will happen early next week. At that time I will also be submitting an already burned disc of a dozen accident scene photos I took. No, I absolutely will NOT publish them, even for a fee, so don't ask! There's just something so fundamentally wrong with exploiting the tragedies of private citizens without even so much as their knowledge, let alone their consent. Screw that. Photojournalism has its place, but in this case, it ain't in this blog, baby. My only concern is that if this ends up going to trial, I hope I don't have to come back to this sick excuse for "civilization" to testify. Yes, the driver was at fault, and is now sporting several criminal charges.

Gah- 23:10 now. Still haven't even checked my email accounts today...

*~*~*fugi outie*~*~*

privacy policy - READ IT.

Sold, But...

2005-10-18T17:20:16Z

Arkansas property. I cannot wait!!!

Here's the latest, just sent to The Reality Box's Blessing Box. [site] [chat]

Dear Ho and Boxers,

Thankyouthankyouthankyou ALL for your prayers and energies! Our townhouse is sold, and subsequently, that contingency removed from our contract for the 30 acres in Arkansas. This has been a series of last minute miracles, and I'm suspecting that such will remain the case until we finally set foot on our land with deed in hand. In fugi-ese this translates to: Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers.

Remember that I said that if last Monday (10/10) we'd been offered only $100K for this place I'd have jumped on it? Different buyer, $100K. Pat wanted to hem and haw. Sometimes he just doesn't get the irony when the writing on the wall comes to pass. Hey, sold is sold at this rate. Our closing date for our current residence is November 8th. Now comes the next hurdle(s).

Pat called the moving company from whom we'd originally gotten a quote months ago when Arizona was still on the table. Mind you, this was very pre-Katrina. Back then all the movers needed was 5 days notice. This is no longer the case. They're booked to the gills, and need a $900 deposit by Friday to secure the move date, then half of the estimated total on moving day, roughly $2500. The balance is to be remitted at the destination to recover our chattels which will be held in storage until then. It is my understanding that the $900 deposit will be applied to the balance due.

Thing is, we're living in our money. We can't touch a penny of it until we close on this townhouse. Plus, the moving company wants our place packed and en route 3 days before closing, which is 10/05. That puts us in a bind to scrape up $3400 before we can actually access funds from the sale of this place. So, in addition to scrambling to gather the kids' school and medical records, lining up basic household services in Arkansas, getting the physical address of the 30 acres or at least a nearby P.O. box in the interim, etc...

This would be a non-issue if the movers could wait until we had the funds in hand on closing day. I'm hoping that we can squeak out a little extra on our home equity loan from this past spring. It was going to be paid in full upon closing for this townhouse anyway. Besides a little extra interest and maybe a small processing fee, what's $4K that they'd be getting back in under a month anyway, right?

Again, please keep my family in your thoughts and prayers as we wrestle the time demon. Updates will be forthcoming. Thanks again.

Brightest Blessings,

Chris a/k/a fugi

privacy policy - READ IT.

More Pressure

2005-10-15T16:55:08Z

Another pic of the Arkansas property. Behind the flowering tree to the left is a small shed. Behind the trees to the right is the house.

Below is the Blessing Box update sent only minutes ago. [site] [chat]

Dear Ho and Boxers,

Guess what just arrived via snail mail requiring a signature confirmation reciept? Yup. The removal of contingency addendum for our purchase contract on the 30 acres in Arkansas. The contingency for the AR property hinges upon the sale of this townhouse. Wednesday, shortly after my initial B.B. request regarding this matter, Pat and I dropped our already competitive price another $4500.00 and have had to become quite liberal with showing hours despite the fact that our ADHD goofies are being impacted by these disruptions to our family's much needed stability.

The townhouse has been shown 4 times since the 13th, and it's only 12:30 now, this Saturday afternoon. Hopefully this place will be sold over the weekend. Our contingency for the AR property expires Monday night. If our current residence isn't sold by then, bye-bye 30 acres. Our townhouse was priced at darn near sacrifice even before we lowered it. Now it's an absolute steal. My family does, and will continue to, appreciate all positive energies and prayers on our behalf. Thank you, everyone, for your understanding and concern.

Bright Blessings and {{{hugs}}} all around,

Chris a/k/a fugi

privacy policy - READ IT.

Under Pressure

2005-10-14T04:44:26Z

One of the ponds on the Arkansas 30 acres.

Easiest way to update right now is to C&P the Blessing Box update sent Wednesday to my original cyber family, Master Ho's Reality Box. [site] [chat]

Dear Ho and Boxers,

I am soooo overdue to update my family's listing. Please forgive. With everything that's happening I'm feeling like the proverbial "one-armed paper hanger." I will submit timelier updates. I have to now, especially with the current situation. Quick catch-up... My family has been wanting, nay- NEEDING to get out of Florida for years. Patrick and I have been persuing this in earnest since this past February. This past spring we purchased some property in Arizona which was officially registered to us in July. It is many months later and the physical address has not yet been assigned to our land. We had hoped to be living on it in early August.

Not knowing when the "911 address" would ever become a reality (can't legally register vehicle tags, enroll the kids in school, etc. w/o that), Pat and I started searching alternate locations. In late August we found a gorgeous 30 acre parcel in Arkansas just a few minutes drive from some family of the heart who relocated there from our current regional insanity over the summer. Our contract for the full purchase price for the 30 acres in AR was accepted with a contingency of the sale of our current residence.

The seller of the property got another offer, full price, cash. Our contingency is being thrown out the window now that the seller doesn't have to wait. We were notified by the agent late Monday afternoon that we've got until Friday to get our current residence sold, or we lose the 30 acres. The kick in the head is that on Friday we had an offer, seriously low-balled to the point of being an insult. We counter-offered, she came back with a max offer that was still pathetic- ON FRIDAY. Right now I'd jump at that offer if she'd eat the closing costs, too.

Anyway, we're not giving up hope on getting this 30 acres. We can't. We had been stagnating in this quagmire for ages. Now it's reached the point that we're dying, and the process has been accelerating steadily especially over the past 18 months. All my family has ever really wanted is a safe, no-bullshit zone where we can grow some vegetables, climb some trees, our dog can get nutty without the restriction of leash laws, our kids aren't in danger of getting run over by an idiot speeding through our complex, and we can all blow off some steam when we need to without hearing a ration of crap from anyone, period. My kids deserve to be able to dig in the dirt, run barefoot in the grass, jump in autumn leaves, build snowfolk, see pictures in the passing clouds, marvel at the infinity of the night sky without light pollution, watch and be a part of nature's never-ending glory...

Please, folks, whatever positive prayers and energies can be spared on behalf of my family are greatly appreciated. I will be sending a followup by Monday night at the latest. Until then may the Higher Powers bless and keep us all safe, healthy and content. So mote it be!

Brightest Blessings,

Chris a/k/a fugi

Right after sending that email I had to leave to pick up Goofy #1 from school. Upon returning to the casa I saw our realtor checking on a property two doors down. She was aware of Monday's shocker and came by to discuss options with Pat and me. Before the close of business we changed some key details of our listing, including dropping the price $4,500 knowing we already had an appointment to show this morning. (BTW, the client is very motivated as well, and is interested.)

Found out later that our present contigency for the 30 acres is still in full effect until 96 hours of recieving the seller's written notice via snail mail. It hasn't yet arrived, and unless it's delivered under the condition of needing a signature reciept confirmation... Well... Our little mailbox does tend to eat communications for 24-48 hour stretches... ;oD No, I am not above minor manipulations of time when it comes to matters such as these, and I make zero apologies for this highly effective method of CYA, either. Regardless, it's now officially Friday and our listing will finally be making its print debut. Either Pat or I will be home at any given time during potential showing hours. Bring on the pre-qualfied masses. The first candidate with the digits who's ready to close by the first week of November gets the prize.

Anyway, it's been a harrowing few days. Still got tons to accomplish and my days have been starting before 5:00 am, thanks to one goofy who's been waking up at "OMG, it's before early!" Hasta la bye-bye and TTFN...

privacy policy - READ IT.

Yes, indeed.

2005-10-10T03:26:39Z

Found through: gyrlcentric

If there is at least one person in your life whom you consider a close friend, and whom you would not have met without the internet, post this sentence in your journal.

Sanguine Sunday

2005-10-09T14:16:58Z

I love Sticker Giant!!!

I'm looking forward to this upcoming week. My gut intuition tells me it's going to be fantabulous. Pat has worked nothing short of various miracles on a few Xboxes previously thought to be permanently dead. They'll be ready to list soon. And yes, you're damned right that I will be handling the sales. Here's my eBay-Fu for anyone who's interested... >>scope it<<

Since I will be setting up a small space for a photo studio this week, I will also start taking pics of some of my one-of-a-kind jewelry designs and other functional art. These will not be offered on eBay as both their and PayPal's fees negate any savings I can pass on to potential buyers. Once displayed in a manner consistent with my exacting standards, they will be available at the Casa Emporium. That section of Casa del fugi isn't laid out yet, so no sneak peeks are available at the moment. Yes, an announcement to that effect will be forthcoming very, very soon. ;oD

This weekend has been good so far. The van was in the shop Friday for front brakes and a rotor. Damage was $217. I had budgeted $150 for brakes alone even with my mechanic's $90 special, but only an absolute idiot would risk not only their vehicle, but potentially the very lives of family and strangers alike, on procrastinating repair of such a vital piece of equipment. Anyway, since we were sans wheels most of the day, the goofies got a reprieve from their normal activites. No complaints here. Heaven knows it's easier to have them here on a weekday, unhurried and safe, than asking folks at the last minute to shuttle at least Tiger to and from his very nearby school. As soon as we're able, though, we will be a two-vehicle family- believe it!

Yesterday was pretty good, too. Since we had the fugimobile back, we were able to trek beachside on a business errand. Normally this would've gone unmentioned except for a reality check I recieved while waiting in the van as Pat conducted his camel trading. The shop is in a strip mall only a few doors down from a bar that was once my home-away-from-home for more years than I'd care to admit. Heck, Mom called me at that bar the night I took my first white chip on October 7, 1989. That story is somewhere online... Anyway!

The regulars I remembered who were entering and exiting that dive hadn't really changed, population-wise, in all those years. However, they all looked like utter shit in some fashion. The biggest commonality amongst them was their collective aura of "beaten-downness". Mind you, I hadn't even drank/used with these folks since 10/07/89. Back then many of them still held their heads high and had twinkles of hope in their eyes. Sadly, it just isn't so for them today. It just made me realize how abso-f*cking-lutely blessed I am to be relieved from the bondage of that insanity one day at a time. Likewise, I am praying that much harder for folks who are less fortunate on so many levels.

Well, the entire Casa del fugi crew is now up and about. It's currently 10:15 am. I know these guys have been jonesing for a mountain of pancakes... Ciao for now!

privacy policy - READ IT.

Arkansas Update

2005-10-08T01:31:36Z

These pics >>link<< are just a small sampling of the natural beauty that's waiting for us. The seller of the 30 acres has accepted our bid and the property is ours as soon as we sell this townhouse. Did I mention that there are not one or two, but three ponds on this property? They reportedly contain huge bass, too. The catch is that since the land has gone unused for about 20 years, the ponds will have to be fished down to nothing before we'll be able to reestablish a regular aquaculture lifecycle. At the present the big guys are feasting upon their own spawn.

There has been increasing interest in the townhouse. It's been shown several times, and offers are being made. Now it's mostly a matter of getting rid of extraneous chattels, rounding up school/medical/other records, and preparing for the next chapter. I'm so stoked that I'm damn near giddy! Who knows? Maybe we'll actually celebrate Samhain by a bonfire on our own land this year!!!

Read my privacy policy before posting replies, thanks!

Dopeless HOPE Fiend

Go!!!

*~*~* gone *~*~*

Get Set...

Step right up, ladies and gents!

ESCAPEES!!!

Get Ready...

Sorting the Benign Stuff from the B.S.

Multi-Shot

#FE0115

Fac ut gaudeam...

Malaise

H.A.L.T. 3/4

Arkansas: Casa del WTF?!?

Daily Reprieve #3,839

Arkansas: The Road Trip

Arkansas: GAME ON!!!

The Farewells Begin

Glass Casket

So, what's in my casket?

#FF4A94

Traffic Fatality Statement

Survey says?

The quiet before the calm...

Sold, But...

More Pressure

Under Pressure

Yes, indeed.

Sanguine Sunday

Arkansas Update

~~* gone ~~*