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fugitive247
22 February 2006 @ 09:45 pm
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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?

heroes Ioz, Niddler, Tula and Ren from Pirates of Darkwater

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...

Sober Survivor, an Urban Dead blog

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 *~*~*


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fugitive247
08 February 2006 @ 06:34 am
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The redbud, photographed Monday. Yes, it's slightly larger than in the last entry's pic. (image © 2006 fugitive247) [see more]

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


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fugitive247
31 January 2006 @ 10:40 pm
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Shack to be demolished this week. (image © 2005 fugitive247) [see more]

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.


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fugitive247
25 January 2006 @ 09:55 am

Text reads: The last time a nation listened to a Bush they spent 40 years wandering the desert.

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!


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fugitive247
20 January 2006 @ 12:25 pm
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The old house at Homestead del fugi(image © 2005 fugitive247) [see more]

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!!!

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fugitive247
20 January 2006 @ 04:50 am
The title is your only clue.
For the rest of you, here's another cool offering from Sticker Giant...

fridge magnet text reads: Give the dangerous bitch her chocolate

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?


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fugitive247
14 January 2006 @ 06:30 am
Fridge magnet reads: I had a mind once. Now I have small children.
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...


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fugitive247
09 January 2006 @ 10:55 pm
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Webcam shot taken earlier this evening while searching for a refresher on the Fair Isles knitting technique. (image © 2006 fugitive247) [see more]

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...


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fugitive247
06 January 2006 @ 03:10 am
StumbleUpon Group- Arkansas
Created for the new Arkansas group at StumbleUpon. (image © 2005 fugitive247) [see more]

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?


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Current Mood: frustratedfrustrated
Current Music: @#$&ing brain static
 
 
fugitive247
31 December 2005 @ 01:00 am
condemned mobile home
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!!!

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


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Current Mood: awakeawake
Current Music: DVD: Steven King's "Cat's Eye"