tinhuviel: (Default)
It has been a few days since Smidgen passed, and I have yet to cry.  After spending several days nursing Smidgen, who took a severe and swift turn for the worse, I made the decision to take her back to Dr. Patch to have her euthanised.  She had stopped eating and using the litter pan.  All she did was sleep on me and get up maybe once or twice a day, go paddle in the water a little - but not drink any - and cry.  Her back parts barely supported her.  


She passed peacefully.  Her eyes turned black afterward, but she still had that angel face.  After days, she finally voided her bladder in death.  It was a huge amount of urine.


I gave everything that belonged to Smidgen, to Cameron and Cindy.  I’m going to scatter Smidgen’s ashes on the hill where she was born, and I’ve save one of her claw sheaths to keep in my Pentagram locket.


I’m numb.  Really, the only thing that has been on my mind for days is how I wish Toby would pass now, so I could just go away, too.  Death doesn’t suck.  Living afterwards is what is so horrific.

tinhuviel: (Demon Smidge)

Smidgen is dead. She was 13 years old.
Her kidneys and liver took her.
Now, it's just Toby and me.

tinhuviel: (Shakespeare)

It’s been an interesting few days.


I’ve been trying to unpack and do laundry, but have been battling where to put what, because I’m having problems getting this chest of drawers and side table put together, and I’m unsure where to place the shelves until I get the couch and have it in the proper position.  So I’m just sort of in a move-in suspended animation until tomorrow, when I’m scheduled to finally get the couch.


As I unpack and sort stuff, I learn of the things that I need and don’t yet have.  Like a broom.  I’ve already asked that someone revoke my Witch Card, because this shit is off the hook.  Who has ever heard of a Witch without a broom?  I was going to use the Swiffer one kind soul sent to me, but I forgot the sweeper needs batteries, so all I can do until I get to a store is just look at it, and look at the floors that won’t be getting cleaned for another couple of days.  Oy vey!


On Wednesday, a maintenance dude came to refurbish my tub and sink.  At first, I was told that Toby, Smidgen, and I would have to be gone for four hours after he had used the paint, but he seemed to think that the complex people were being overly-cautious.  He did warn that the paint had a strong odour, but that was fine, because I liked it once he used it.  Then again, I love the smell of gasoline, so I'm a bit of an olfactory mutant.  He got to work sanding the tub down, as he waited for his boss to bring the paint he needed.  She brought it after about two hours, but she brought the wrong paint, and what the dude needed was all the way in Simpsonville.  He asked if he could return the following morning, and I said yes.  He had to leave all his equipment in the apartment overnight, so I kept a couple of lights on, so I wouldn’t end up falling and breaking my face, or arse, or something else I might need.  He returned the next day and finished the job shortly after Noon.  Right now, I’m super-ripe and look atrocious, because I haven’t had a shower in over 48 hours now.  It’s currently 11:30, so I have less than an hour  to go until I can clean up my act.


Yesterday, Micah was swung by to pick up some incense I had for them, and give me some quarters for bills, so I can do laundry.  Stonesthrow has an on-site laundromat, but the machines only accept quarters, and they have no bill changer.  I found a drink machine in the gym this morning, and thought that might be an option for when I don’t have quarters or a way to get quarters, but the drink machine won’t take my bills!  Frustration is too weak a word for this situation…. Anyway, a few hours before Micah was to arrive, my phone died.  I figured it just needed to be charged.  But it wouldn’t come on, even after an hour of charging.  Nothing I did would make it show any sign of life.  I panicked.  With my health issues, not having a phone is not an option.


Thankfully, Micah was kind enough to haul my butt to AT&T, where I was prepared to bite the bullet and sign a contract, so I could get a new phone.  Everything was in order, until they asked for my identification, which I lost, along with my social security card, in the move across country.  The only way I can get a new phone, the service agent said, was to order it online.  Shiiiiiit!  But she did try this one wee trick to see if there was any hope for the phone, and the battery symbol popped up on the screen.  She explained that, sometimes, phones just get locked up and, if you press the power and home buttons at the same time, it can reboot them, and they are okay.  She suggested I take the phone home, hook it up, and do the reboot.  




So, it appears I don’t need a new phone after all.  I just need to learn every clever tip and trick having to do with the iPhone 5s, and I need to do it as soon as fucking possible, before I find myself in a panicked state, simply because I’m ignunt.


Anyway, it was great meeting and hanging out with Micah, whom I initially met online through my friend Cameron.  They are a delightful person, and I’m really looking forward to watching them perform in an outdoor production of William Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night’s Dream, in which they play Puck!  Cameron, Cindy, and I were originally scheduled to go to the Saturday production, but Cameron is now thinking it’ll be Sunday, instead, which works better for me, considering I’m supposed to be getting that couch on Saturday.  Back to Micah, we share a fascination for the Arabic language and alphabet.  They are learning Arabic in school and seemed pleased when I told them that my original Rhyllan alphabet was inspired by the Arabic alphabet.  (I really need to turn Rhyllan and Tarmian Tarmi am Tynillim into digital fonts, but I’ll have to wait to get a printer/scanner for that.)  Micah is a brilliant person, and exudes a deep kindness.  Toby could not get close enough to them when they were here.  When they found out I was a Witch, they expressed some interest in learning more about Wicca, since their brother had recently been talking about it as well.  Once I have all my gear unpacked and have the apartment in order enough to where I can cast a Circle to my satisfaction, I'm going to invite Micah, and anyone else who might want to participate, to an open Esbat ritual.  By then, I'll have furniture for people to sit on, and receptacles out of which they can eat and drink!


I find it telling that I have only been back in South Carolina a month, and I’ve already made a new friend in Micah, and a potential new friend and neighbour, whom I met a couple of days ago.  Her name is Christa, and she stopped me as I was walking to the mail box, because she spotted my Pentagram pendant.  She’s moving in later on this month, and she’s an herbalist/acupuncturist who has dabbled in Wicca in the past.  She wants to get together once she’s settled.  I spent four years in San Diego and only made a tiny handful of friends right at the end of my stay in the area.  It isn’t that San Diegans aren’t friendly, this is about me.  I have to admit I was unwilling to get out there and be proactively social.  To be honest, I think that if I had remained in San Diego, I would have become a shut-in, because my social anxiety out there was out the roof.  I don’t know why, but I intend to suss it out over time, because I think it’s important to know the reasons behind my inability to interact with others there, when I don’t seem to have a problem with it here.  If I discover the roots of this behaviour, I can work to rectify it in the future.


Thanks to my Tribe, another very happy difficulty I’m having with getting unpacked and organised, is I keep getting more packages, which means I’m inundated with boxes, which are getting in the way of unpacking more boxes.  I’m not complaining, I think it’s ironic and hilarious!  For now, I’m holding on to the better-made boxes, and have put out the word that they are available to anyone who needs them, for whatever.  If I haven’t heard anything by Saturday evening, I’m beginning the arduous task of breaking them all down and taking them to the recycling bin across the way.

Speaking of Tribe and new friends, I’ve also connected with a local artist, who has created a piece of art for the new pad. I’m looking forward to meeting Modesto and seeing the barn he has drawn.  I had told him to make anything he felt would be good for me and, even though we’ve never met, he decided on a barn.  I have a weakness for barns and, especially, lighthouses, so this was perfect.  I’m thinking the barn will go in the dining room.  I can’t wait to meet Modesto, with whom I hope to work in the future to create an all-inclusive artistic community for the Upstate of South Carolina.  I’m in the market for other art, as well.  I’m hoping Janice will paint me a lighthouse, when her life settles down enough to where she can get back to her painting.  Also, I’ve found this print representing my patron Goddess, Lilith, that I’m keen on putting in the living room.  I also want to get a Tolkien-focused piece of art for the living room.  The other picture I want to put up is the picture of Jesus that Granny painted when I was just a baby.  I grew up believing he was a hippie whose eyes followed me when I moved, and I would flash him the peace sign at least once a day and say, “Peace, brother!”  I left the painting behind when I went to San Diego, because I was afraid it would be damaged in the move.  Now that I’m back, I’m reclaiming it from all the stuff I still have stored in the old house.  Of course, my Shriekback poster will eventually be gracing the bedroom wall.    As for the hall and bathroom, I’m not sure yet what, if anything, I’ll do in the decor department.  Despite my accrual of a shit=tonne of stuff in a very short period of time, I still consider myself a minimalist!


Smidgen vomited day before yesterday, and did so again overnight, but she seems to be doing well, other than those two incidences.  Rene is insisting I stick with the plan of taking her back to Dr. Patch next week, so I’m going to swallow my pride to acquiesce.  If it were me, or a situation that did not involve a living entity, I would just wait to address the issue when I could afford it, but that’s not the case, so off we go to the vet’s office one day next week!  And, actually, as I was writing this, she vomited again.  It was clear fluid with a light yellow tinge to it, so I’m a tad worried that her liver is not doing as well as I had initially hoped.  


I’m out of milk and sugar, so I checked to see if the Instacart service was available in this area.  It is!  So I’m having my milk, sugar, and a couple of other items I needed, delivered in a couple of hours.  Since I’m waiting on this, I’m postponing my shower until after s/he has come and gone.


May. 27th, 2017 07:10 pm
tinhuviel: (Default)

Tomorrow evening, I will be ending this campaign. I'm keeping it up long enough to make sure anyone who is interested in my last update, gets a chance to read it. In a jaw-dropping rally to help Smidgen, members of my Tribe and their friends pushed me past my goal to rehome, *and* sent gravy outside the realms of GoFundMe, which went to pay for Smidgen's healthcare and her new prescription diet. All of you have no idea how humbled I am to have you in my life, and I hope to do the same for you when you need it, or even want it! You have been kinder to me in my time of emergency than some of my closest family, which merely confirms my belief that you make your family. You're mine.

tinhuviel: (Default)

From my GoFundMe Campaign:

A short, but dire, update today.

I woke up this morning to find copious amounts of blood in Smidgen's litter pan. She must get to the veterinarian as soon as possible.

Please help me help my child.

tinhuviel: (Star Trek)

Before I begin writing this, I want to make something abundantly clear: I am not actively suicidal. Suicidal Ideation is one of many joyful experiences served up by Depressive Disorder. So, let's get that straight. No need to call emergency services. I just need to purge all of this, so it doesn't go any further than unbidden flash thoughts.

After six hours of fitful sleep, my first thought when I woke up this morning was, "I'm thin enough now, I could walk to Rogers Bridge with Smidgen and Toby, and we could jump in the Middle Tyger River. That way, we'd never be a burden or worry to anyone ever again, least of all ourselves."

Off and on yesterday, as the funds just poured out for very damned little, I caught myself considering the peace oblivion would bring.  I have placed strain on my family out here, and I'm being a pest to my friends and Tribe for rides and money.  I've drug my two homebody furbabies all over hell and half creation to establish a relationship with my mother that never was meant to be.  I can't eat properly, I'm always in pain, and honestly, I'm lonely.  I feel like I've lost the ability to be (or act) normal in a social situation.

I've felt more like a throwaway than I have in months. And I know it's that damned chemical imbalance in my brain interacting with the uncertainty of my future, but being intellectually aware of what's causing it does not prevent it or alleviate it.  I just have to work through it.

It truly is like having a monster living in your mind and, despite your efforts to stop it, it just continues to gnaw away at your will to keep the thing at bay.  No one needs or wants a life in upheaval but, when it happens to someone like me, it can be a life-threatening situation.  You become a threat to yourself.  That's why so many people I know who have Depressive Disorder are hardcore about keeping certain routines.  If you find a routine that brings you peace and doesn't rock your psychological boat, you're going to hold on to it with a fierce passion and, if that routine is upset, it can send you into a tailspin.

I'm in that tailspin right now, and I'm doing my best to pull up.

But I'm scared.  And my feelings about losing Aunt Tudi aren't even trying to hide right under the surface. And it's gonna get worse before it gets better, because I'm going to have to bunk with Blake in the old house until I can find another place to live, which means she'll be calling me in the night.  And it's that main thing that drove me to so much self-destructive behaviour before I left for California.  To be back there even for one day is almost unbearable to imagine, but it's going to happen whether I want it to or not.

I feel like my solar plexus has turned into a gordian knot, and my heart is beating funny.  My entire body is responding to the stress and depression, and I'm afraid I'm going to fall ill, when that's the last damned thing I need right now.  I've already got a urinary tract infection that I'm trying to beat on my own, because I can't afford an urgent care right now.

What's worse is Smidgen's back leg weakness has magnified.  I'm hoping it's just arthritis and the stress of travel making it worse, but she's old and I'm afraid it might be something more serious.  And I can't take her to the vet.  Of course, my mind instantly went there - that I'm going to watch her die because I was too sorry to take care of her.  Why do I deserve to live when I can't properly make the lives of those I love have some measure of quality?  If Smidgen dies, I am going to be beyond devastated, especially if I find out I could have prevented it somehow, if I had only done more or been more.

My helplessness cannot be measured.  I'm doing everything within my power, including writing this, to make sure hopelessness doesn't also get to that point, because I'm not sure I'll survive it.

tinhuviel: (Kelat in Mourning)

She changes everything She touches, and everything She touches, changes.

This afternoon and evening, I am burning an anointed blue candle to try to bring myself a little bit of peace of mind, as much as can be mustered. The dance of the flame, along with the muskiness of my incense, allows me to still my mind, if only for a period of time.

Friday, it will have been two weeks since Janice got a lawyer to do a title check on the Mother Unit and me. He told Janice that it would be about two weeks to get her an answer. I did my own title search under my name, the address of the property in question, and of the Unit's name. The only thing that is coming up is from when I transferred the house to the Mother Unit right before I moved out here in 2013. So, that said, I'm trying to do something that is nearly impossible for me to do, and I am doing it to challenge my faith. Why? Especially at this unspeakably crucial life change.

Here's the thing: I am Mulder and Scully, all wrapped into one psychopathic fruit loop. I want to believe, but I can never quite surrender completely to what some might call faith. I worked diligently, leading up to the Full Moon, to draw upon ideas on how not to end up homeless, on how to swallow my pride and ask for help, if worse came to worse, and to light a little flame in my corner of existence to let the universe I'm here and I need help to get somewhere else, safely, with Smidgen and Toby.

But, I'm repeating myself, I know. It's just that it's a tad terrifying to think of the alternatives if I can't get us back home...ANYWAY,   
what I'm getting at is, there should be no reason any liens against the house would exist, and it clearly states the deed belongs to the Mother Unit, so I am putting my money where my mouth is, and I am not setting up a GoFundMe until I know for certain whether or not I need it. I'm being mindful of my roaming thoughts, of which I have too many, and I am redirecting the thoughts from "what if...________?" to "I am grateful for this moment's peace, and the many moments of happiness I know lie before."

Let me be clear here; I'm not talking about testing the gods, or trying to bribe anything in the other realms. It's about testing myself. It's about finally admitting to myself that being a combination defeatist/impatient tackhead is a horrible thing to be, for my own wellbeing, and that I am the only one who can change this panicky chaos. So I am almost constantly, even in the background when I'm multi-tasking, chanting Reclaiming's indomitable "Kore" Chant, which states, in part, "She changes everything she touches, and everything She touches changes." When I'm at home, and not repeatedly whispering the chant in my mind, I'm singing the Native American healing lullaby, "Nah Bvey Hi-Ay" to myself. When I'm at program, in between in group session, I walk the labyrinth and either chant "Kore" or sing "Nah Bvey Hi-Ay."

In this time of change, "Kore" is the one statement about the Goddess I have ever heard, and I've treasured it for such a long time, from the beginning of my Pagan journey way back in 1988 until present time, I even decided to have it embossed on an altar I'm getting. Before my computer died and demanded replacement, and then I was told that I'm going to have to move, I took some extra money I had in March and commissioned an oak altar I had always wanted. One of the options of the creation of the piece was to have phrases or names in the font of your choice (of what they have available), inscribed into the wood. It can take five weeks or longer for it to be ready to ship, so I don't even know right now what address to give them in place of the San Diego one I provided! That is, if I have an address at all! This time in my life is the most momentous one I've experienced, even more so than the 2013 move. 

​The moment I returned to Her, radical changes began to happen, and continue to. And it's to this I cling right now, for change indicates that all things and situations are transformable.  But I have to have faith in this, not just know it.  If I can't, I am lost, no matter where I end up living, or not.

"We are changers; everything we touch can change."
tinhuviel: (Default)

I had been waiting to make an official announcement about our moving to Longview, Washington when I better knew more concrete details, such as when we were actually moving. I'm certain this is the first time 99% of you have gotten an inkling that we were leaving San Diego. The following account is extremely abridged, as I'm going to wait until the dust settles and make as full and accurate document as is possible.

The long and short of the reason for the move is that Matt's parents followed through on their ultimatum to Matt to clean up his hoard or get out. Everyone's lives are in an upheaval, yet Matt refuses even to admit he has a problem. You can't be a narcissist and successfully get treated for hoarding, because you can't take the necessary first step of confessing that you aren't fucking perfect. But I digress.

About a week ago, the Mother Unit informed me that I would have to pay more rent, but she would make no guarantees that I'd get any more than what I'm getting for my money now, like a bit more room in their refrigerator (I'm currently using one small produce drawer, which makes for more trips to the store, which exasperates the Unit. All that said, one of the reasons I've lost so much weight is that I would go hungry rather than bear the guilt of inconveniencing the Mother Unit to take me to the store.).

Anyway, my other option is to move back East. ...if I can afford it.

So, about a week ago, and a day after I was essentially invited not to move with the Mother Unit and Matt, I was informed that Matt's parents want us all out of the house by Bealtainne, the 1st of May. I had previously been given the vague impression that the move was going to happen in the late Summer. SURPRISE! Needless to say, I've been scrambling to figure out what I'm going to do and how I'm going to do it. If things go as hoped, planned, and ritualised, I'll be selling the Duncan house back to Aunt Janice and using the money to make the move, not back to Duncan, but home, to Asheville. If things don't go as hoped, Smidgen, Toby, and I could end up homeless and stranded in San Diego.

I am simultaneously elated and petrified, because I don't know on which side the coin will eventually rest. The thought of finally returning home brings tears of joy to my eyes, but the idea of being alone in a what is still to me a strange city, with no way to provide even shelter for my bebbies, freezes my heart with terror. At least I won't have to wait for very long to find out our fate. In the meantime, I'm composing a formal request for the GoFundMe account I'm going to set up. If the sale of the house is successful, I'll refund whatever money is given to me via that method. If it's not, then I can use whatever people give me to subsist until something more decisive is in place. Honestly, though, I think this is going to turn out remarkably well, and perhaps even better than I am dreaming. Since I'm usually steadfast in my assertion that the glass is always half empty, I'm taking this optimism as a very good omen indeed.

"Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong."
tinhuviel: (Devil Smidge)

You know, the time before last (which was three days ago out of desperation from migraine pain), when I seriously tried to commit suicide, within a week of getting to the house, I was offered a stay in England and in Australia.  When I was in serious danger of losing the place Smidgen and I live, I was offered a place to live, at least for Smidgen, which is my first priorty.

All this started in 2014.

I have gone nowhere and still have no home for Smidgen.

This is why I have trust issues with people.  They will say anything if it makes them think they will with either help and things will get better or I will choose to live.

The hopelessness of my chronic pain only seems to get worse with every passing day.  I live in isolation in this room in a house with people who hate me.

When I bought this harness for Toby, I thought I'd still be able to walk this canyon hill.  In my condition, that's just not happening.  I can't even walk up to the bus stop stop without almost passing out.  I had one dude treat me like like I was some kind of crazy person, because my blood sugar went so low.  Depending on the sentiment, it was either a curse or a blessing I was gotten back in time to get some sugar.


The harness is easily prepared for idiots like me who never learned how to tie a knot.  It'll be fast and no one will notice.  I'll be taking Smidgen with me, since no one wants her.

When will this happen?  I don't know.  Probably on the spur of the moment, when I have enough money to get to the park.  Sometime in July, probably.  All I know is that I'm sick of the exasperation I receive when I have to go anywhere, even the doctor. I'm tired of being treated like a criminal because of the illnesses I have. I'm tired of being tired and not being able to sleep. And I'm tired of being placated to just to keep me alive, when no one really wants me alive. It's a reflex. What's the point in living when there is no one and nothing to live for?  I'd rather just have honesty and be told that, yes, I am a throaway who was only ever loved by Aunt Tudi.

She's dead now.  What's the point of anything? I am constantly in pain, these migraines are getting more frequent, no hospital or doctor but Sharp will give me any relief, there's no point in continuing like this.

tinhuviel: (Torquemada)

I haven’t done one of these in about 10,000 years, so let’s get this show on the road.

This is all true. photo 1264091_10153348891685721_288267917_o.jpg1. Full name: Tracy Angelina Evans
2. Nicknames: Tin, Tinhuviel, George, Darth Shriek
3. Birthplace: Asheville, North Carolina USA
4. Birthday: 10 September, 1967
5. Where Do You Live Now?: San Diego, California
6. Parent(s): Father Unit has passed.  Mother Unit is here in San Diego.
7. Sibling(s): ZERO
8. Looks: Better off invisible.
9. Favourite Animal(s): Anything non-human, except for millipedes and centipedes.  Like humans, they can go fuck themselves.
10. Favorite TV Show(s): Impractical Jokers, Better Call Saul

11. Favorite Kind(s) Of Music: Most everything but Country and Opera.
12. Favorite Movie(s): Sci-Fi, Unusual, Conceptual, Foreign
13. School: Some college, focusing on English and Veterinary Assistance
14. Future School: I’m too old for this question. The Chapel Perilous

15. Future Job: Testing new, effective sleep aids.
16. Boyfriend/Girlfriend: nah
17. Best Buds: I’m a bit of a hermit these days.
18. Favorite Candy: Milk Dud
19. Hobbies: Music, reading, writing
20. Things You Collect: Grudges, CDs, movies, moments in time.

21. Do You Have A Personal Phone Line: Yes
22. Favorite Body Part Of The Opposite Sex? The eyes and brain
23. Any Tattoos And Where Of What?: Red & Black Triskele on right hand, Green Shriekback logo on left hand, Mwanza Flat-headed Agama with green and blue hues instead of pinkish and blue.
24. Piercing(s) And Where?: not anymore
25. What Do You Sleep in?: clothing
26. Do you like Chain Letters: aw HELL NAW.
27. Best Advice: Reality is peripheral.
28. Favorite Quotes: Hope for the best, expect the worst. - Mel Brooks.
29. Non-sport Activity You Enjoy: sleep
30. Dream Car: A transporter

31. Favorite Thing To Do In Spring: Avoid the sun.
32. What’s Your Bedtime: Whenever I’m lucky.
33. Where Do You Shop: Wherever I can.
34. Coke or Pepsi: Cheerwine

35. Favorite Thing(s) To Wear?: Something loose that will allow me to blend into my surroundings.
36. Favorite Subject(s) In School: English and Creative Writing

37. Favorite Color(s): Green, Red, Black
38. Favorite People To Talk To Online: People with brains and a wicked sense of humour that has set them on the road to Hell.

39. Root-Beer or Dr. Pepper? Root beer

40. Do You Shave? I’m too old for that bullshit.

41. Favorite Vacation Spot(s): I don’t do vacations.  My favourite place to BE is England.
42. Favorite Family Member(s): Smidgen
43. Did You Eat Paint Chips When You Were a Kid? WHAT?
44. Favorite CD you own: Currently Without Real String or Fish by Shriekback
45. The ONE Person Who You Hate The Most: Going with an old standard here and saying Pat Robertson.
46. Favorite Food(s)?: Potatoes
47. Who Is The Hottest Guy or Girl In The World?: I have a very short list.
48. What Is Your Favorite Salad Dressing?: Bleu Cheese.
49. When You Die, Do You Wanna Be Buried or Burned Into Ashes? I don’t care, as long as I end up on Craggy Dome.
50. Do You Believe In Aliens?: Absolutely.

51. If You Had The Chance To Professionally Do Something, What would You Do? I’m already a Professional Misanthropist.
52. Things You Obsess Over: Various artists, ideas, philosophies, theories, general weirdness
53. Favorite Day of the Week: Don’t bloody care.
54. An Authority Figure You Hate: The Feudal Mistress still tops the list.
55. Favorite Disney Movie: Bambi
56. What Is Your Favorite Season? Winter
57. What Toppings Do You Like On Your pizza? Cheese, with extra cheese, and cheese on the side.
58. Do You Like Your School Food Itself (As In The District Food): I never ate it.
59. If You Could Live Anywhere, Where Would You Live? Avebury, Wiltshire, UK
60. Favorite Thing(s) To Do On Weekends: Sleep, if I can accomplish it.

61. Favorite Magazine(s): Don’t have one.
62. Favorite Flower(s): White rose

63. Favorite Number(s): 5

64. Favorite Ice Cream flavor(s): Ben & Jerry’s Wavy Gravy

65. What Kind of Guys/Girls Are You Attracted to?: Dangerously intelligent, beautiful, talented, and hilarious.

66. What’s Your Most Embarrassing Moment? I inadvertently introduced myself to someone as his wife.

67. If You Could Change One Thing About Yourself What Would It be? I would be fearless.

68. Do You Eat Breakfast First Then Brush Your Teeth or Brush first ten eat breakfast: breakfast first.

69. Favorite Time of Day: Whenever I get to sleep.

70. Can A Guy and Girl Be Just “Best Friends?”: Why not?

71. Do You Ask The Girl/Guy Out Or Do You Wait For Them To Come To You?: I don’t go there anymore.

72. Do You Mind Paying For Sex? I never would.

73. What’s The Most Important thing In Someone’s Personality: Sentience

74. Do you have a pager or cell phone? Cell

75. Favorite Sport: Flambodious Butt-walking

76. What Was the Best Gift You Ever Received? Love

77. How Long Did This Letter Take You To Finish?: Not very long.

78. What Did You Listen To While Completing It?: Electric Light Orchestra’s Alone in the Universe.

79. Are you or would you like to be married in the near future (next 5 years)? NEGATIVE

80. Don’t u just hate how psychics never win the lottery? I hate it more than I don’t win the lottery. I hate psychics, especially the ones who claim to talk to your dead relatives.  They’re grifters who should be drawn and quartered.  The End.

tinhuviel: (Here is the news!)
Dancing-Groot.gifVery early this morning, I checked my GoFundMe page and, upon seeing the current amount in my account, I turned into Groot.

In a measley six days, my GoFundMe campaign of shameless begging for help so I can get through  my upcoming surgery and post-op expenses, a merry band of do-gooders surpassed my goal of $500.  Even though it doesn't appear to be so, I have just over $525 for the upcoming health and shelter gauntlet.  A couple of folks opted to use PayPal instead of the GoFundMe site; thus, the difference.

As I said when I originally posted my campaign, $500 will prevent my going into any more deficit and will help set Toby and Smidgen up with their proper medications and food for the duration of my absence.  It will also pay my portion of the surgery bill, which is $264, gas for Angie's car and any other expenses accrued by my presence in her home.  It's still gonna be an uber-tight squeeze, so I'm keeping the campaign up until Monday morning, right before I head out to the surgery center.


To all of you who contributed to this cause, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart.  I get distressed when I have to ask for help, especially financially.  It stems from my childhood almost instantly after the parental units divorced.

Essentially homeless with nothing but the clothes on my back, I found myself, along with Aunt Tudi and Granny, at the mercy of others who openly resented the situation in which we all found ourselves.  Because of that, self-suffiency was of the utmost importance to me.  Having my health pack its bags and leave town irreparably damaged that self-suffiency.


But you guys didn't grouse at me or make me feel like Heel #1 for asking for help.  You just helped, and that's a gift whose importance I can't properly express.  All I can do is say thank you, and file this experience in my Why Tribe Is More Cherished Than Family.

So, with all that said, please enjoy the dancing Moss and Roy, as well as the inimitable James Stewart and Donna Reed dancing as though the cops are shooting at their feet.  This is a perfect example of how y'all have made me feel the past few days.

Again, thank you.  Someday, and I'd rather it be sooner than later, I hope I can help all of you in some capacity.  It would be the very least I could do.

tinhuviel: (Hot Damn!)

Making a List and Checking It Twice

Then I check it again.  And again.  And again and again and again.  No, I am not the Ginosaji, but I think I may have discovered why my memory has become a cess pool of forgetfulness over the past few years.

Earlier today, I went to the Imaging Healthcare site to confirm my EEG w/Sleep Deprivation test for Tuesday morning.  My neurologist wanted me to have the test before my surgery date.  While I was on my portal at Imaging Healthcare, I found the test results for my many procedures, dating as far back as October, 2013.  I clicked the report generated from my MRI of last year.  According to the physician who examined the imagery, there is nothing that would indicate why I have seizures and migraines; however, he made note that I have "Mild Diffuse Cortical Atrophy."  What exactly is that?

It means that a portion of my brain cells have dropped dead.  It seems to be relatively common in people who suffer from migraines, which I have all my life, except for that nice extended break in my late 20s.  The primary symptom of this condition is forgetfulness, because it is a form of dementia.  To experts' knowledge, the condition does not cause seizures, but it can cause you to stand at the fridge with the door open, wondering why they hell you'd come into the kitchen in the first place.  The thing is, though, is that cortical atrophy is mainly associated with elderly people.  


It's a natural part of growing old; however, it can also indicate dementia and the beginnings of Alzheimers Disease.  I just approached an online doctor about it.  Hopefully, my questions will be answered, despite my not subscribing to the 'Ask a Doctor' website.  If I had the money, I might, but people who are running GoFundMe campaigns because their medical situation is guaranteeing they won't make ends meet in any conceivable way tend not to shove their debit card in a virtual doctor's face and shriek TAKE MY MONEY!, especially when said persons are going back to their neurologist for the EEG results sooner rather than later.  It would be frivolous and unresponsible to pay to have my question answered, when I can barely pay attention for being so broke.  Then again, maybe I can't pay attention because my brain is dying in increments.  Whatever.  At any rate, here's what I wrote to the "Emergency Medical Hologram" (Geek points to those who get that):

Since 2008, I've been having grand mal seizures.  I was 41 at the time.  They're well under control with the dosage of Keppra I'm on, and my neurologist keeps a close eye on me, doing annual tests and having me keep a diary of my migraine headaches.  I'm due to go for another EEG with sleep deprivation next week.  As I was setting up my appointment for a bone density scan ordered by my OB/GYN, I noticed that I could access the results of my previous tests, one of which was the MRI my neurologist ordered last year.  Everything appeared normal except that I exhibited "Mild Diffuse Cortical Atrophy."  Is this normal for a 47-year-old?  From what I have read, it's an age-related issue that could be nothing, especially if you are a senior citizen, although it could mean you might have the beginnings of Alzheimers.  For the past four years, I have struggled with memory issues.  It often takes me three times longer to do things because I keep forgetting what it is I need to do next to complete whatever project I'm working on.  My longterm memory seems relatively okay, but I'm constantly having to retrace my steps to make certain I'm doing or have done what I need to at any given moment.  Should I be especially concerned about this, or am I just well on my way to joining AARP?

For now, I'm going to try to not let that report worry me, since I need to focus what rudimentary mental ability I still have to the task of preparing for this surgery and the subsequent week or so of recovery.  This next week is going to be busy, what with my pre-op visit and EEG, both of which are on Tuesday, then a surgery consult with my pain doctor, since she's the one who has to oversee the pain management after the procedure.  Those are the only two days I need to leave the house, which is great, because I need to begin sorting what clothing I need to take to Angie and Cierra's, gather up any connectivity cords and my extra surge protector, and prepare my room for Matt and the Mother Unit.  While I'm gone, they're going to clean up Syd & Nancy's cage and paint, among other things.  I also need to write out instructions on what Smidgen and Toby need and are used to getting, as well as draw a diagram of puppy pad placement.  Since Toby has been on Prednisone, he's become a peeing machine.  Most of the time, I get him out in time enough, but there will always be incidents, so I keep the carpet covered with the protection, but there's a certain way it needs to be done to reduce the amount of pads used while still being a flawless barrier between the carpet and Toby's cho-cha.  Thanks to the help I have so far received, I've been able to get another box of puppy pads, to ensure the Mother Unit does not run out of them.

After I have the instructions written out to my satisfaction, I need to write out some semblance of a will.  I want to make certain that I am not intubated or put on life support of any kind, should something go wrong during the surgery.  Also, I'm keen on bequeathing certain things to certain people.  Nothing I have is of any monetary worth, but there are some things that mean more than mere money.  I also want to have some sort of arrangements made for Toby and Smidgen, should I die, and I'm going to request that my ashes be taken to Craggy Dome on the Blue Ridge Parkway in Asheville.  I doubt my wishes will be adhered to, but I have to state it, just in case.  Getting my document witnessed and notarised has already been made possible, thanks to your generosity.

Later on in the week, I plan on zipping up to Oceanside to spend the day with Angie and Cierra.  San Diego transit isn't just for the city proper, but for the entire county, so I can take various buses and trolleys to make it up there to them.  I'm looking forward to the journey and to seeing those crazy Oceanside chicks.  What I'm planning is to go up and go shopping for some of the heavier items, that Angie and Cierra can store for when I arrive from the hospital.  It will cut down on having to haul the stuff from the store to the house, then from the house to the car, then from the car to the apartment, and so on.  Right now, I can carry bottled water and large bottles of juice, both of which I'll need post-op.  After the surgery, lifting things like that won't be an option.  Wiser to get anything I can do beforehand done, so things will be easier post-op, right?  Again, thanks to your kindness, I'll be able to buy these supplies this next week, and have one less worry clinging like a funky monkey on my back.


So that's where we are for now.  I want you all to know how humbled and amazed I am by your outpouring of fundages I know you can ill afford.  Despite my misanthropy, I am always awestricken by how people can pull together when any sort of shit hits the fan.  Religious, racial, and cultural differences are swiftly ignored and reviled by folks as each person does what s/he can with the seemingly impenetrable hope that things can and will get better.  That's a testament to the goodness within us, despite our fatal flaws.  If I had not known this before I launched my GoFundMe campaign, I would have been smacked by the Clue-by-Four of Kindness within just a few hours afterward.  Thankfully, I didn't need the Clue-by-Four, because I have always had faith in my friends...my tribe.

Again, thank you from the bottom of my shriveled little heart.

I'll be back with more updates as they come.

tinhuviel: (Doomsday Clock)


Does anyone else remember that movie from the 70s, Thank God It's Friday!? It featured Donna Summer singing her absolute best song, in my opinion, 'Last Dance' and co-starred a very young, very Elfin Jeff Goldblum.

What does this have to do with my fundraiser? Nothing, really. I do know, though, if I evergot to compete on Jeopardy, I wouldn't have to have a fundraiser, because I have so much useless information in my head, I would rival Ken Jennings *and* Watson. My mad useless trivia skillz would send me home with all kinds fundage, I promise you that.

We're a little over 1/5 of the way to my goal, which not only gives me a 1/5th more peace of mind than I had starting this up, but also confirms for me that, even though our species collectively sucks, we do have the potential to incline toward helping one another and our fellow Earthlings, if we are capable of doing so. The world needs more people like you guys and fewer like Pat Robertson. I went yesterday to get my prescription refills, supplies for Smidgen and Toby, yoghurt for the antibiotic I'm currently taking,enough food and beverage (juice and water) to hopefully do me 'til the 14th, and some cleaning supplies. I paid the mother unit the money I owed her and also paid my rent. All of it came to more than I'd hoped, so what you guys have sent me so far is already a couple of deep breaths of relief.

As it stands right now, I have three appointments next week. One is for an EEG with sleep deprivation on Tuesday morning. Later that afternoon, I have my pre-op appointment with Dr. Hess, at which time I will learn more about any supplies I need to have to help with a swift recovery. I then have an appointment with my pain management doctor, who has to be the one to handle my after-care pain program. You can't have two doctors throwing such meds at you. You could end up in a jail cell with your doctors for committing such a heinous crime.

My bus pass is good until the 24th of the month, so that's one less worry, since I don't think I'll be physically able to deal with transit until at least a month after the surgery. The friend I'm staying with is gonna take me to post-op doc visits, then the mother unit will take over that task when I return to the house. I have no other health-related activities in which I must participate for the rest of the month. So, I guess that's it for now. Again, thank you generous souls who have contributed so far. I don't deserve the friends I have and I hope to someday return your kindness in the best way I can, to help make your lives better in some important way. Please pass my fundraiser on to all your pals. Once you have to resort to setting up a GoFundMe in order to scrape by, pride goes out the window, so it will not bother me at all if you spread the news around like butter on bread. As I said, the $500 is the bare minimum I need to just get by without being a further burden to the mother unit or placing Smidgen and Toby in a situation where they don't have the food or medications they need. It's not a financial cushion, but I don't think you should use a site like this as a cushion. It should be a legitimate barebones need. With just this, I expect to be in another deficit long before September ends, but it will be a deficit that I can feasibly claw myself out of. Without the help, the hole will just get bigger and deeper which, in turn, will put me in the position of feeling more like a leech and useless person than I already do, by individuals who have no right or reason to impose their feelings on the matter. You're helping lift me, Smidge, and Toby up instead of watching us be torn down. I'll never forget your generosity and friendship. I'll update again soon.


If you're wondering what the heck this is all about, click the eyeballs you see in provided widget below. Should you choose to help me out, just know I really appreciate it, as does Smidgen and Toby. Ta!

tinhuviel: (Doomsday Clock)

Ever wonder what pre-surgery stress looks like when you know you won't have enough money to cover surgery-related expenses after you wake up? It looks like this screen-cap of Ren Höek from the old show Ren & Stimpy.

On September 14th, I'm going to be having a pretty major surgery that dictates I have at least 10 days of recovery without a steroid-bloated dog and a 14 pound monster cat vying for top spot on my abdomen, which is the surgery site.

As a result, I'm having to spend my recovery time away from home, which means I'll essentially be trying to maintain two homes for at least 1/3 of the month. Since May, I have been fighting my way through the red tape of student loan disability discharge after my monthly fixed income started getting garnished over $200 a month, leaving me in a deficit every month since.

That, combined with the extra expenses I am facing with co-pays, surgery-related medications and extra doctor visits, pulling my weight with my friend and her daughter, who are letting me camp out at their home during the recovery process, and providing proper finances to my mother and roommate, so they can take care of my cat and dog in my absence, means I'm probably going to run out of money very shortly after the 14th. If that happens, I will probably end up doing without medicines and any after-care therapies I might need to successfully recover, which will only add to my health and financial problems in the future.

I've done the calculations and I'm figuring at the bare minimum, I could scrape by and not be a burden to anyone with my transportation, food, an pet maintenance needs, if I could raise $500. Whatever you can do to help with this would be appreciated beyond my ability to properly express.

Even if I don't reach my $500 goal, anything will help at this point, so please give it some thought and, if you think I'm worth the gamble, click the appropriate buttons.

Thanks for reading!

tinhuviel: (Shriekback Logo)

Last night, the Mother Unit knocked on my door and said "mail call!"  She came in and handed me a mail order catalog and a small white lined mailer with a customs label on it.  I knew right away what I was in for, but I took a deep breath and told myself to be patient and wait for tomorrow.

Well, tomorrow is now today, and I opened that bad boy up to find the shiny new Care CD by Shriekback!  I must say, I'm delighted with the album, now that it has finally established its rightful place in world of Compact Disc.  And I'm even more thrilled with the fact that it boasts among the bonus tracks, my favourite song by the Shrieks, 'Despite Dense Weed', along with the story behind how this malignant serenade came into being.  I've posted the story here before, as well as posting on You Tube when I uploaded the song from another collection.  But, I'm sharing again, because no one has the power to stop me.

This - if I may make so bold - little gem was only previously released on the Y Records Xmas album, which may not have found the Total Market Penetration it doubtless deserved, so here it comes again. Inspired partly by the novel Riddley Walker (Shriekback required reading) and also by an Acid experience in a forest in which Vivienne Kent and myself experienced being predators of a blood-thirsty, lupine/vampirish kind, and, from the top of a tree contemplated a cosy little family out for a stroll with a view to slaughter and dismemberment (their only possible use). Ah, great days - and they still haven't found the bones (joke).  Viv plays murderous viola on the end bit and the Tiny Green Garden Sticks rear their vicious little heads again.

I left the CD on the bed while I went to get some water.  When I returned to my room, this is what I beheld.


Ah, Smidgen...  She truly is my totem and spirit guide.  She knows good stuff when she sees it.  The digipak is obviously delicious.  Thankfully she did no harm to it, and even posed for a second picture.  She looks like a spokesmodel, so I have dubbed her the Shriekback SpokesManx. There's no denying like draws like.  Shriekback are brilliant and take pretty pictures, and Smidgen is the same way.  This pic should be a billboard, I swear to Christ.


I may have to cajole her into modeling with other Shriek albums.  It could become a Thing.  With the Shrieks dabbling in forbidden aural alchemy, combined with Smidgen's laissez faire attitude regarding the paparazzi, and the sentient presense of the Internet, anything is possible. While I'm working at evoking a feline pout out of the Shriekback SpokesManx, you should meander over to the Shrieks' website and buy a copy of Care while you still can.  All these reissues are limited editions so, if you don't act now, you may end up lurking in the dark corners of eBay, hoping for the chance to purchase a used copy at some godawful price that helps the band in no perceivable way.  If you're unsure you want the album, allow me to direct your attention to a version of one of the songs on the CD, entitled 'Feelers.'

It's sure to wrap around you like celestial swaddling.

New Vet

Oct. 3rd, 2014 04:17 pm
tinhuviel: (Augury)

Earlier this week, I called Presidio Veterinary Hospital and set up an appointment for Smidgen and Toby to get their shots and establish them with a new doctor. I'm running three months behind on the vaccinations, thanks to health and financial issues. But, I finally was able to get the ball rolling on it today.

Mama carted the asshole (Toby), the stoner (Smidgen), and the sourpuss (me) up to the vet's office. Everyone there was super friendly, and very helpful.

It was a good thing I took them, too, because Toby had started coughing pretty badly a couple of days ago. It turns out he has bordetella! How the hell did that happen? I know I was late with the bordetella vaccine, but he hasn't been around any other animals, except for Smidgen. I got him some medicine for that.

What's really distressing right now, though, is the doc found a tiny cyst or tumour in the corner of Smidgen's eye. It's going to cost out the arse to have it removed, so I'm gonna have to put that off for at least another month, and probably have to go crying to the Mother Unit to help me. If the growth is malignant, I'm going to lose my shit, I swear to Christ. Smidgen is like my child. The only good quality I have is Smidgen. I'm terrified.

Dr. Heather Loveland is a wonderful doctor, from all I witnessed today. Her assistant, Nick, is also fantastic. I could tell that they both deeply love our furred fellow Earthlings. Even though I miss Dr. Patch and his crazy crew like mad, I'm confident that Dr. Loveland can handle my bebbehs. It's just a matter of drudging up the fundage from somewhere, somehow.

New Doctor

Jul. 8th, 2013 08:55 pm
tinhuviel: (Devil Smidge)
The doctor I chose for my PCP is one Dr. Krisberg. He's an older gent and he has the personality of a wet noodle. But he listened to everything I had to say regarding my health issues, and offered up referral suggestions, as well as some procedures I needed to go by in order to go forward with my getting my knee looked after, as well as maintaining neurological care.

He also wrote out all my prescriptions, whether I needed refills on some of them right now or not, so he was quite proactive in all those arenas.

I am well-pleased with him, and I think he's going to work out fine. I'll need to go back to him in a couple of months, at which time I will discuss getting a pap-smear and a mammogram. I have had neither in years and, since I have fibrocystic breast disease, not to mention the one irregular pap I got about a decade ago, I think it may be wise if I pursue an avenue of preventative care.

After the doctor office visit, the Mother Unit and I grabbed a bit, then went to the drug store so I could get my Wellbutrin.

We're in for the evening, soaking up some Defiance and babysitting the beasties. Smidgen has begun to show an interest in Buster. I don't think she would hurt him, or any of the birds, but it's better to err on the side of safety, so I'm keeping an eye on her. I'd never forgive myself if my baby ended up harming the Mother Unit's baby. That would just be...awkward.

Okay, that's it for now. I'm eating some leftover mac'n'cheese, and enjoying the rest of Defiance with the Unit. We may turn in a little early tonight, since neither of us really slept worth one single fuck last night.

There's a possibility we'll be taking Toblerone to a beach-side dog park tomorrow, so we both need our beauty sleep for when we end up on the local news on account of Toby's bad behaviour fucking up the neighbourhood.

El Move 1

Jun. 12th, 2013 10:35 pm
tinhuviel: (PSA)
12 June 2013 3:30

The Mother Unit, Jeanne, and I hit the road just before 3 PM. I’m sitting in the back of the truck with Toby resting on my blown-out knee, and Smidgen chillaxin’ beside me in her travel case. The door is open so she can come and go as she pleases; she’s just more comfortable with the case right now.

I ended up packing more than I expected I would. Most of what I have are DVDs and electronics. Of course, the computer is taking up residence on my other knee. So far, I’ve been able to tap into two sources of free wi-fi. I’ll be posting what I’ve written when I come into another wi-fi spot.

That said, some of what I’m writing won’t be in synch with the time I post.

Right now, we’re in Anderson County in SC. Jeanne and the Mother Unit wanted to stop at Arby’s and grab a bite. I’m not eating. I’ve been nauseated and haven’t been able to eat anything but about a half cup of chicken & rice, courtesy of Janice. I’m nursing a frozen peach drink along with some water, so it’s all good.

I know I meant to write more about how the roles in the Vampire Relics changed over time, but I just haven’t had the time and capacity of thought to engage in such shenanigans. Maybe tonight, once we’re settled in a hotel room, I can finish that up in short order.

10:30 PM

So here we are in Bessemer, Alabama. Toby is trying to illicit pity and a bite of the Mother Unit’s sandwich, and Smidgen is chilling out in the bathroom. We’re waiting for her to finally venture out of her case, but she seems relatively unconcerned about that at the mo. She’ll change her arrangements when she’s ready.

As for me, I’m freakin’ POOPED. I’m hoping all the packing and travelling will help me get at least a little bit of sleep. We’ll see.

I’ve got some pictures to upload, but my connection here at the hotel isn’t the best in the world, so maybe I’ll get to share them tomorrow.


Nov. 26th, 2012 10:53 am
tinhuviel: (Smidgen and Tin May 2009)
In the past six months or so, Smidgen has been on me like a freckle, and I have connected to her so much more than before. If I'm sitting down, she's right there. I hug her and she does nothing but purr louder. I pet her rabbit fur and she just vibrates with pleasure. When I'm lying down, she's on my chest, oftentimes with her face against my cheek, purring. If she's not on me one way or another, she walks the floor yowling. That drives me crazy, so I encourage her to be with me. Janice says I'm too attached to her, that I'm going to be destroyed when she dies. She is eight years old and healthy as a horse, so I expect she will be with me for at least another ten years. Since the coyote attack, she stays in the house, going out sometimes to use the bathroom if she doesn't want to use the litter pan. She goes under the porch to do her business, then comes right back in.

I love this cat dearly. I've haven't been this attached to an animal since Henry, my beagle boy. She has been the greatest comfort to me since Aunt Tudi's passing. It's as if she knows I'm damaged and she's doing everything she can to heal me. I realise it's slow going, but she does make things better on a daily basis. Smidgen is my rock when nothing else can reach my spirit.

She's with me right now, with on paw on my arm and one on the edge of the computer. It's a wonder she's not working her way onto my lap, between me and the computer screen. My constant companion, my dearest friend. I don't know what I would do without her.
tinhuviel: (Family Dog)
When Chester gets up from his naps, he limps a little. The longer he walks, the more the limp goes away. It's arthritis, I know. But he's twelve years old now, being born in November of 2000. Chester also has cataracts. They aren't too bad, and he can see fine, but I know he's going blind. Yorkies tend to live from twelve to sixteen years. I figure he has a good four years, because he's always been treated like a king, and taken care to the point that he's had no health issues, except the occasional mild case of ear mites. I feel guilty wishing that I didn't have the animals to take care of until they pass, so I can get out of this house, but I can't help it. I think this is what I'm going to talk to the therapist about tomorrow, especially since Chester was a Christmas gift for Aunt Tudi, who was devastated when Winnie died of a heart attack in her arms. He was twelve when that happened and in poor health. When we adopted him from the girl who used to work at the vet's office, he was so overweight, he looked like a square foot stool We managed to get the weight off, but it was too late.

I don't know how old Toby is, but Smidgen now eight years old, and Seedling is just over a year old. I think Toby is pretty young 'cos he still has a lot of puppy characteristics, wanting to play, and causing all manner of chaos. Chester has finally had enough of him and goes Mediaeval on his arse now. I don't try to stop him unless it gets too out of hand. Toby needs to learn to stop bullying the other animals. I think he's realising that you don't bully a terrier...ever. Chester may be as cute as an Ewok, but he's related to freakin' pit bulls. In a really bad fight, Chester would flatten Toby.


Jul. 4th, 2012 08:47 am
tinhuviel: (Caveman)
I missed my appointment with the psychiatrist. I thought it was on the seventh. No. It was on the second. I'm gonna have to call the on Monday and beg for forgiveness and a new appointment. I feel like a complete loser. I can't even keep my appointments straight.

I am waiting for my new car (well, new to me) to arrive in Greenville from Columbia. Hopefully it will be today. It is not the yellow one, nor is it the black one with a red interior (the Maul-mobile!). This Smart Car is red and only has, I think, 3000 miles on it. It's practically new. And it has a few black bits, so I am not complaining. I just need to fine a way over there.

Diane is doing okay. They put a couple of stints in her heart and is making her go to cardiac rehab for, I think, two weeks. I know she can't drive for two weeks, and that's driving up the wall. She's used to be on the move. Even though she griped about never having time at home, Diane does love to travel about. When I get the Smartie, I'm gonna take her for a ride. I'll stuff Bobby in the back, and awaaaaay we'll go!

I found a picture of the first Smart Car I ever saw. Aunt Tudi and I spied it in Cas Gwent (Chepstow), Wales. Aunt Tudi was over the moon for it, and I was right behind her. I told her that someday, we'd have to get us a Smart Car, but she said it was too small for the two of us and the animals we'd have to take to the veterinarian. I understood her logic, but I was still disappointed that we could not get one. Besides, we'd never seen a Smartie in America, so Aunt Tudi and I were pretty certain they weren't even available across the pond.

I dread tonight. Everyone is going to be setting off fireworks and blowing things up. The patriots will be skittering about like roaches, acting like complete idiots like we told we should act. Our programmers and owners demand nothing less. Those of us who have rejected such submissive behaviour will probably end up dead or in a concentration camp. Will that stop me? No fucking way. I am averse to being told how to act and what to do on certain days. It's trite and tiresome.

Speaking of trite, I made a comment on Facebook about not liking Joss Whedon. And here came the faithful Whedonites, telling me that he's the bees knees. It's like some sort of crime to not like Whedon and especially say that you do. Goddess forbid you deviate from the consensus that Joss Whedon is god returned to Earth to save us all. Firefly sucked, Alien4 Resurrection sucked, Buffy, the Vampire sucked, and Angel sucked. The shows essentially all had the same characters, but with different names. I find that reprehensible and more than a little tiresome. Joss Whedon needs to go away, and his fans need to get over themselves. Everyont\e has an opinion; mine is radically different from the Geek Status Quo. And you know what? I don't give on flying fuck.

Ever since Smidgen was left outside overnight and I spent a majority of my time over at Diane's lately, she has attached herself to me like a tribble covered in Krazy Glue. Right now, she's the proud owner of my right thigh. Last night, she lay on my chest and purred until my breast bone felt numb. It is very odd to have a cat who behaves like Smidgen. The last cat we had, Paisley, was fiercely independent. She did not appreciate being petted, she abhored being picke dup, and she was totally intolerant of other cats. Even dogs. She tried to kill my beagle Henry when he was just a puppy. Needless to say, Henry was always submissive to Paisley. For 19 years, I unable to have any more cats. When Smidgen passed, i found baby Smidge tottering along the edge of our fence. She was only five months old and very poorly. After nursing her back to hell, I discovered that she was the Anti-Paisley. It was a strange experience after 19 years of fierce independence and indifference to everything. When the dogs pass, i'm going to hit the road, and Smidgen is coming along with me. I don't know where we'll en up but, wherever it is, they'll have to accept my my wee fur baby. She is eight years old. If she lives as long as Paisley did, she will ve with me for at least another decade. That is, if the Alpaca Lips doesn't happen in December.

If always contented that when the Higgs Bosun Particle was found, it would mean the end of us all. Guess what? They think they've found it with that freak-ass atom smasher in Switzerland. That thing is going to end up creating a tiny black hole that will spaghettify the entire planet. It just shows that Switzerland sucks.

I'm hungry. It must be time for some macaroni and cheese. If only Andy Partridge were here to share it with me. Ho hum.
tinhuviel: (Devil Smidge)
So, she's sitting on my thigh (and still is), and she's purring and bumping me with her head, so I start petting her. And cat hair starts flying everywhere, sticking to my computer screen, sticking to my face, sticking to the dogs. Let's not even talk about the carpet.

So I say, "Smidgen...the hair, the hair! What's with all the cat hair?"

And she looks at me as if to say, "What other kind of hair would I have, you dumb bitch?"

I shut up and kept petting her like an obedient human.
tinhuviel: (Devil Smidge)
I could not spend one more minute in this bastard of a house, so Diane came early yesterday and took me back to her house. I called and asked Janice to please let the dogs in close to dark, as I had left them out to chill in the sun, and to please please please make sure Smidgen was in.

Years ago, Smidgen was attacked by something, maybe a coyote, I don't know. Her side was ripped and I had to take her to Dr. Patch so he could sew her up and put in a drainage tube. That cat never left my side while she was recuperating. And she'd have nightmares, horrible nightmares. Months after the attack, she would leap out of sleep, ripping me or Aunt Tudi a new one as she launched off us, because I really believed she was suffering from effects of fresh PTSD. Ever since then, she's never left the house. She either uses the litter pan, or goes out and under the porch for a quick tinkle. She will sometimes go out onto the porch and bask in the rays of early morning. But she never ever strays far, and literally panics if I don't immediately let her in when she comes back to the door.

I had asked Janice to also let the dogs out this morning, and Smidgen if she wanted to go out. I knew I'd be coming home about an hour or two later than their scheduled bathroom break, and I didn't want to come home to have to clean up dog poop.

I got home around 9:15 this morning, and accounted for everyone except for Smidgen. I called Janice to see if Smidge had been in the house last night. She said no, that she couldn't get her to come home. And she told me that she hadn't seen Smidgen this morning when she let the dogs out.

I lost my mind. I immediately went into hysterics. This cat is more precious to me than all the gold in the world. She is the one who did everything she could to comfort me weeks after Aunt Tudi died. She would lie on my chest and purr, and place her cheek against mind. She does that to this day. Cats don't just purr out of happiness. When they are in pain, even emotional pain (and they do have emotions), they will purr to self soothe. They will purr to soothe one another. And they will purr to comfort their pet humans. This is what she was doing.

I ran. I ran all over the hill, to the edge of the forest and back. I crawled under the house and checked the out-buildings, constantly calling her name. None of the cats who live with me answer to 'kitty-kitty.' They know their names, and especially Smidgen. She answers to Smidgen and her nicknames Smidge and Pretty Girl. Diane and Bobby helped me look. Diane drove down the back road, calling for her and checking the edge of the forest to make sure Smidgen had not been hit by a car and had crawled into the ditches.


And I stopped breathing. I couldn't catch my breath. I could not breathe. I felt like I was having a heart attack. Diane thought she was gonna have to drag me to the E/R. And she would have had to drag me, because I wasn't about to leave the house.

Then I caught a glimpse of a large owl eye peeking at me from under the pile of trash on Uncle Michael's and Janice's trailer. I knew it was Smidge. She had been 25 feet away from the house the whole time, but would not come out. It took me a good twenty minutes to coax her out, she was so afraid. This is how she is when she inadvertently spends the night outside. When she stepped out far enough, I pulled her out and to me like it was the end of the world.

She's in now.

And I can't stop crying.

Two animals have passed since Aunt Tudi died. And I'll grieve when the ones who live with me now pass. But Smidgen. She is different. If I had lost her, they would have had to put me in the hospital on suicide watch. I can't even bear to think about it. I know it may sound stupid to some people, but this is just how it is.

If Janice had told me Smidge hadn't come in last night, I would have asked Diane to bring me straight home. There is no way I could have tolerated being away when Smidgen might have needed me.

I don't care how haunted and tormented I am in this house, I am never leaving it again.
tinhuviel: (Herne_Moon)
Something is going on with Smidgen. For the past seven days, she has insisted on being on me like a freckle, day and night. She has actually jumped up and crawled onto the laptop, typing her own strange and alien cat language and looking at me as if to say, "I got you! I got you!" Now, she always responds favourably when I call her "pretty grrrrl..." But this is just ridiculous, what she did earlier this morning. I lay down in the hopes of grabbing some sleep and, as usual Smidgen jumped up and sat on my chest, then started her biscuit-making routine. I made the mistake of whispering "pretty grrrl..." and she started smacking my face. Literally smacking my face. No claws, just light smacks. Then she placed both paws on my lips as if to say "shut your piehole," and began purring like an old tractor. And, right now, she's lying on one of my thighs vibrating like a damned tribble high on quadrotriticale. She is constantly on me like a freckle.

I have a beef about Twitter right now. I may have to turn off my Tweetdeck for awhile, because every few seconds, I get the same message from different people in different languages: "Tim Roth to head Cannes jury for Un Certain Regard." How many times do you people have to announce it? I mean, since late yesterday and on through the night (yeah, no sleep for me!), I know I've gotten a good hundred messages like this, and I'm being conservative in my estimation. Sure, I'm all over Tim Roth, oh how I wish, but damn. This is just ridic (as [livejournal.com profile] gunslingaaahhh would say). Give it a rest, people Even the Dogon tribe in the wilds of Africa know what's going on in Cannes now. GAH, and I just got another one. That's it. ::closes down Tweetdeck:: Besides, if I get any important tweets, they'll show up on my phone.

I am supposed to go to the Liberal Catholic Apostolic Church to watch my former High Elder (and the best partner I ever had in Circle) get consecrated as a bishop in the church. It's all very strange to see him in the role of a Christian, and a devout one at that! And he really is a true Christian, as far as I can see. He lives a life of peace, he tries to be the best he can be for himself and those around him, and he never forces his beliefs on anyone. If this is his true chosen path, I wish nothing but the best for him, and I will definitely be there for him tomorrow and beyond, in whatever capacity I can manage. Still, though, it is kind of surreal to see Lord Ariel Morgan become a bishop with the name Aaron Edmund Cass. I'm very proud of him, truth be told! I haven't worn a dress/skirt since May of 2006, so this will be interesting. My skirt is a little loose on me, but it won't slip off, and my blouse is a perfect fit now, so that's all good. Oh, and HEH, the old Caledonii website is still present on the Internet. I may ask Aaron about that tomorrow when we have a chance alone together. All of this reminds me of the German saying, "nichts ist dauernd als der Wechse"l (sp), "nothing is lasting but change." If we don't change, we stagnate and eventually die much earlier than we should, our lives never really reaching the fullest of intention. So yeah, it's going to be quite interesting tomorrow. Pictures shall be taken, you can bank on that. While I'm there, I may just ask Aaron if he'll pray for me regarding my finding some peace from the loss of Aunt Tudi, and the piss-poor luck I've had with everything else of late. He has always been incredibly powerful when it came to communing with the Divine. Our Drawing Down of the deities when we were officiating priest and priestess, was always Vast and Mighty. We almost always achieved our goal, and later had to be told what was said and done, because neither of us was completely mortal during that time. The God and Goddess were truly present in Circle. We were told repeatedly that our eloquence and the body language so vital to Magickal workings were breathtaking. Somewhere, somehow, that Magick is still alive and vibrant. But I'm getting off subject, so I'll end it right there. Look at this, all these wordy words just to say "a longtime friend of mine is becoming a bishop and I'm gonna be there to support him." Sheesh.
tinhuviel: (Devil Smidge)
Random pictures recently taken.

Toby, Chester, Smidgen, Geico, and the Tat )
tinhuviel: (Smidgen and Tin May 2009)
Smidgen has gotten in the habit of extending one arm and gently placing her hand on my bare flesh. She then contracts her little fingers and digs her nails into the aforementioned flesh. It's not particularly painful, but it sure is an attention getter. When I look to ask her what on Earth she's doing, she has this look of triumph on her face that screams "she's miiiiine, all miiiine!" I love my Smidge, but sometimes I get the feeling that I'm nothing but a possession she keeps around for personal amusement.


Jul. 30th, 2010 09:17 pm
tinhuviel: (Smidgen and Tin May 2009)
I'm sitting here with Smidgen draped across my chest and shoulder, her purr quite loud in my left ear. Cats are such wonderful creatures; there's really no other entity like them on Earth. I'm grateful to have one openly love me the way that Smidgen does. Her presence at these times brings me an unfathomable peace.
tinhuviel: (Devil Smidge)
I just finished weighing Smidgen...SMIDGEN...  She's a smidge over 12 pounds of solid muscle.  Great googly-moogly!

tinhuviel: (Devil Smidge)
click for teh preeety )

Was I wrong about teh preeety? I think not.


Jun. 9th, 2010 09:28 pm
tinhuviel: (Smidgen and Tin May 2009)
Ever since her encounter with whatever it was that was attacking and killing our cats, Smidgen has pretty much become a house cat. Because of that, she doesn't get the exercise she was once getting. Combine that with food within her reach 24/7, Smidgen is no longer a smidgen of a cat. The teentsie baby I picked up with my index finger can now take my index finger in her mouth and gnaw on it like a chew toy. Smidgen knows her name very well; otherwise, I would truly change it to Blobula. I'm typing this quickly before my right arm goes numb from Smidgen lying on it. God help me.

Stormy Day

May. 31st, 2010 08:46 am
tinhuviel: (Cadmus Wrath)
I've been awake since 3:50. Yes, I've been out of the Zyprexa for a few days and my body is going back to it's crazy schedule of little to no sleep. Instead of twirling like a British Petroleum drill, I decided to go ahead and get up, maybe write a little. I'm already 2000 words into today's 3000 word goal. The characters have chosen some odd routes and partnerships. Kelat and Cadmus found themselves on the same Virgin flight to New York City. Thiyennen and Eve have decided to join Dmitri and Ishtar on their road trip from Asheville to NYC. Rebekah and Mephistopheles are flying into NYC from Iraq. And Agatha, with the Augury of Gideon in tow, is flying into NYC with Orphaeus Cygnus. And what is drawing them all to the Big Apple? The spirit of Faust, aka Kallum McCreary. We're gonna have ourselves an old-fashioned resurrection right in the heart of SoHo. As Kallum would say, it's gonna be the berries.

Anyway...there's really not much going on with me other than the writing. Today is stormy, messing with a lot of Memorial Day hoo-ha, but I'm not concerned with any of that. Smidgen has decided that the safest place on Earth is behind the toilet when it storms. Poor thing is making herself a lightning rod and she doesn't even know it. Aunt Tudi got up, got her medicine, got her insulin shot, and is now lying back down and snoring. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't envious. Instead of sleeping, I think I'm gonna watch Dr. Phil and try to stir up a little hatred, so I can write Cadmus sufficiently well later on. Like me, he's been suffering from insomnia, and he's not handling it nearly as well as I am. But that's Cadmus for you.


May. 6th, 2010 04:52 pm
tinhuviel: (Devil Smidge)
tinhuviel: (Dr. Who Boogie)
I've had my first bout of insomnia since beginning Zyprexa. Why? Because I'm out of the medication. I called this morning to get more samples and should be able to pick them up when I go see Rosa tomorrow afternoon. Right now, I'm so incredibly sleepy, I feel like I'm having an out-of-body experience, but I'm fighting the urge to sleep, hoping that I can take advantage of the inclination at the proper time tonight. In the meantime, I'm talking Aunt Tudi to death as I strive for consciousness.

Speaking of Aunt Tudi, she caught a cold during one of our sojourns out amongst the Great Unwashed last week. It took her a few days, but she eventually succeeded in passing it on to me. We both sound like Snuffleuppagus (sp??) and feel like bantha poodoo. I went through the worst of it last night, but Aunt Tudi has really been feeling crappy. To her, most colds are near death experiences because of her compromised immune system. I've seen what is a simple case of the sniffles to everyone around her turn into pneumonia for Aunt Tudi. Fortunately, that isn't happening this go 'round. I always find myself holding my breath when she catches a cold though. Serious business.

I got a good candid photograph of Aunt Tudi earlier today. I think I'm gonna make it a habit to post at least one picture of her a week, just for the hell of it. She's gonna be so pissed off at me, but what do I care? I keep telling her that she has her own little fan club on Teh Intarwebs, but she doesn't seem to really believe me. Personally, I think a weekly Tudi Interlude-y is just what the World Wide Web needs. Once I upload the picture, I'll be sure to post it here and on Facebook. I'm sure her shriek of horror and fury will be heard worldwide.

I'm still a little blocked in the writing department. Both The Blood Crown and The Augury of Gideon are sources of angst for me at the mo. I know what I want to say, I just can't seem to say it in the manner desired. My next ploy is to drop the attempt to write prose and go into "biog" mode. What I want to do is work up a complete character study of the Apostate, chronicling his early days in the Tarmian colleges and detailing the crimes against nature that eventually earned him expulsion from the Circles of the Tarmi. I've already decided that he invented spectacles, creating them by using the alchemical tools and wisdom he learned in the college of Khemeth. I want to make him unbelievably brilliant and surprisingly sensitive on a certain level. This aspect is certainly attributable to his anchor. Once I have this character study, I think my words will begin to flow more smoothly and I can continue my work. At least that's my hope at any rate.

The Mother Unit sent me a box of goodies. Books, greeting cards, and happy bits and bobs greeted me when I cut the parcel open. I found the enclosed note nestled in the styro popcorn and chortled with glee at how she signed it ~ M. Unit! I've created a monster! I never realised how fond she'd be of my name for her, but I'm thrilled she likes it. Years ago, she referred to me as "O Spawn of Mine," so we've been using "Mother Unit" and "Spawn" for what seems like ages now. It makes me smile and it apparently does her as well.

Smidgen has a new nickname. When our weather radio alarm went off this morning (the first of many alerts to inform us that Mother Nature was trying to kill us), it sounded like it was a mile away. Why? Because Smidgen had straddled it and draped her flabby body over it like a nesting bird, effectively muffling the sound of the alarm. Seeing her like this inspired me to utter the name "Blobula." Talk about extremes. She was so tiny as a kitten, it inspired her name of "Smidgen." Now she's big and blubbery, inspiring the nick of "Blobula." I thought Aunt Tudi was gonna bust a gut laughing at Smidge's new cognomen. It is kind of funny if I do say so myself.

What else, what else? I think that's it for now. The evening brings to us new House and a new Law & Order (Linus!!!!). Then, hopefully...sleep, blessed sleep.

Bright blessings to any and all who read this scattered bloglet.
tinhuviel: (Bellatrix)
I'm going to write this in sections in the hope that I can remember all that's been going on and be able to express it in a coherent and cohesive manner. So here goes...


shake, shimmy, and roll )


A Cadmus quote...but so much more to do! )


Everybody here go bang! )

Various and Sundry, Whatnot, Bits and Bobs, This, That, and the Other, Hoo-ha, Meanderings, Murmurings, and Mumblings

Happy Banana Dance )

Okay, I've been working on this off and on for a goodly part of the day. I think I'm all written out. ::collapses::

Big Dog

Aug. 17th, 2009 07:29 pm
tinhuviel: (Smidgen and Tin May 2009)
According to Doc, it was a fairly large dog that attacked Smidgen, who was lucky to survive the attack, much less make it home. He had to keep her overnight to clean out the rather impressive wounds, repair the damaged muscle, and put in a couple of drainage tubes. If all goes well, I'll be able to pick up Smidgen any time after 9 AM tomorrow morning. I wrote the Mother Unit to let her know the skinny on Smidgen's bill of health, and to thank her for literally saving my feline friend's life. It's at times like this that make me seriously consider finding homes for all remaining animals. It's obvious that I can't sufficiently see to their needs and, had it be solely up to me, Smidgen would have lost her life because there's no way I could afford a vet bill right now. Sure, Smidgen and I have been inseparable since she was was a mere four weeks old but, in all honesty, I'm more of a detriment holding on to her than I would be if I found her a home with people who could care for her and be able to afford any unexpected bills that may arise.

This is a conversation I think Aunt Tudi and I may need to have sooner rather than later.


Aug. 16th, 2009 03:19 pm
tinhuviel: (Devil Smidge)
After my constant calling for a good half hour this morning, Smidgen finally appeared, walking oddly toward me like the good little Number One she is. Her gait was anything but, however, appearing more to be a strained partial stride. I scooped my baby up in my arms and brought her in to inspect her. Sure enough, in the vicinity of her right shoulder resides an angry wound, probably the result of a feline rumble. She either lost this one or the one she was fighting looks like a bloody Picasso. Now there's food for thought.

Anyway, I have some leftover antibiotics that I got for Chester's dental and am pumping Smidgen full of those now. Smidgen h has now been seriously medicated and transformed into a 24/7 house cat until I'm satisfied that she's once again whole.

Too Smart

May. 27th, 2009 12:45 pm
tinhuviel: (Smidgen and Tin May 2009)
Smidgen has learned how to turn on our weather radio, both the button for weather reports and the alarm button. She starts in with the weather radio when we don't give her the attention she's expecting or we don't get up and put her food down in a time frame to her liking. She actually was threatening us with the radio earlier, looking from Aunt Tudi to me, then back to Aunt Tudi, as if to say "Give me my food, bitches, or I WILL press this button."

Thank the Mighties she doesn't work at the Pentagon with access to The Button. Maybe that's coming, though. Maybe she's the agent of the Alpaca Lips sent to press The Button on 12-21-2012 because some lazy beyotch didn't feed her satisfactorily.


May. 20th, 2009 07:24 pm
tinhuviel: (Smidge and Tin September 2008)
Aunt Tudi and I are both relatively presentable today, so the camera was brought out kicking and screaming.

the gory result )

I think I'm gonna make that pic of Smidge and me into our new icon. The one I have of us now is pretty old and needs replacing.
tinhuviel: (Joker)
I'm crappy at Photoshop, but I don't care. This needed doin', so I dood it.

gooood kittieee )
tinhuviel: (Smidge and Tin September 2008)
I woke up in the middle of the night with my head immobilised. It kind of scared me at first, then I realised that it was Smidgen. She had draped her body across the top of my head, covering my eyes and my entire nose, except for my nostrils. I contemplated calling for Aunt Tudi so she could get the camera and take a picture, but I figured it would startle Smidgen and she'd move. So I just lay there chuckling at my weird-ass catly friend until I drifted back off to sleep.
tinhuviel: (Chester)
It's not that many, but it seems that way. Here's a bunch of pictures to look at for no reason whatsoever.

First off, here's a recent one of me before I headed off for a job interview. This outfit makes me look bigger than I am, but it's the only "business" outfit I currently have. Bummer. I don't think that any part of it touches my skin except the part that hangs on the shoulders and the skirt's elastic that fits round my waist.

more here. lookie )

Now wasn't that fun?
tinhuviel: (Cliffs of Insanity)

  • There's a reason why the movie W. is being released so close to Hallowe'en: it's a freakin' horror movie. And what makes it even scarier is that it's based on a true story. Dubya will end up in the ranks of horror movie monsters like Freddy Kreuger, Jason Vorhees, and Pinhead. I can see it happening. He's been scaring the hell out of me for the past eight years.

  • Attention all you crazy Russian serial frienders: I don't mind you're friending me. Hell, I'd friend you back if you'd just pop onto the ole blog and tell me you've friended me and introduce yourself! But I don't like being part of some bizarre online competition. So, if that's why you friended me, please defriend me and move along. No harm, no foul. If that's not what you're doing, just let me know and I'll friend you back because I dig people on a certain level despite my rabid misanthropy. I especially like Europeans and I've always been quite fond of Russians, Czechs, and Poles. Slavs in general are of particular interest to me and I've actually tried to teach myself Russian and Czech. That was about twenty years ago, which means I remember none of what I taught myself. That said, I can't understand a word you write in your journal, but that's okay. If you're a legitimate friender, I'll friend you back and enjoy the Cyrillic appearing on my Friends Page. It may prompt me to try to learn Russian again!

  • I've decided to not return to the bakery. I'm thinking that Teresa is trying to "punish" me by not giving me any hours this week.  Actually, even though I needed those hours, I've had a wonderful weekend, thanks to Teresa's so-called punishment.  And her actions stirred within me the last vestige of pride that I possess and that the Man has yet to successfully beat down.  I'm no longer a bakery slave!  When/If Teresa calls to let me know she finally "needs" me to come back to work, I'm going to inform her that I'm no longer available to work in the bakery and that I'm going to do to her what she did to me.  And I'm going to hang up on her.  I've already told Tami that I'll be available to work more hours at the Dollar General.  When I go in to work on Tuesday, I'm supposed to write down what days and times I'll be available for work.  It's gonna be difficult not having that third job, but we'll make it somehow and I'll be saving what little pride I have left so that I can continue to partially hold my head up in this Corporate/Fascist state that's keen on eradicating any capacity for thought and self-preservation its consumers may possess.  By the grace of the Goddess and God, I will persevere!
  • [livejournal.com profile] clumsycake is having a hell of a time trying to find a surgeon who will help her with her bladder problem. Since she has no insurance, she's trying to go through some charity organisations to try to get her surgery. The problem she's having is that tacking up a woman's bladder is considered an "elective" surgery, which means anyone who needs the surgery has to grovel in the gravel to maybe get it down the road. [livejournal.com profile] clumsycake is in pain and can't function because of her dropped bladder, yet the powers that be have decreed that her condition isn't that serious and should therefore be treated as an elective situation, if it's treated at all. She has an appointment with a doctor on Tuesday, after speaking with an Ask-a-Nurse nurse, who directed her to Regenesis. Maybe she'll be able to get the help she desperately needs. This is America's health care in action! Stay tuned here for more riveting updates on [livejournal.com profile] clumsycake's fearless sojourn into the dreadful quagmire of the US health care system.

  • There's something coming on the History Channel at 10PM which is what I'd called Must See TV. It's called Last Days on Earth. If you're even remotely sympathetic to my Alpaca Liptic message here on The Cliffs of Insanity, then you need to get thee hence and enjoy this Feel-Good Television.

  • I've decided that, the next time one of my animal companions finds themselves needing a "lamp shade" around their heads, I'm going to request the largest lamp shade available. Then I'm going to cut it into a daisy shape and paint it purple. Then I'd place this godawful thing on my unfortunate animal friend and promptly take pictures. I'm hoping that my animal friend would look like this:
     I think Riley would be the perfect candidate for this dandy pictorial project.

  • Smidgen is exhibiting something I like to call the Feline Autumn Heebie-Jeebies. When she takes herself outside for any length of time, after she comes in, she has huge pupils and she runs about like a crack whore who's on a particularly festive high. Riley and Motley get the brunt of her FAHJ. Smidgen stalks both of them and just gets the greatest pleasure when she manages a smack on the sly. I'm hoping I can get her on film, walking on her hind legs, her arms in the air, and her eyes black as night. I've noticed that many cats succumb to the Feline Autumn Heebie-Jeebies. The change in the air seems to affect most cats, making them celebrate life to the fullest of their feline abilities. This means that someone is going to suffer and someone else will be amused by their moments of suffering. And the wheel keeps turning....


Oct. 3rd, 2008 10:22 pm
tinhuviel: (Smidge and Tin September 2008)
I think I may actually die of a broken heart if anything ever happened to Smidgen.


Oct. 3rd, 2008 11:10 am
tinhuviel: (Smidge and Tin September 2008)
She's getting demanding in her prime years. Smidgen is currently halfway in my lap and on my stomach. I've had to move the lap top to my knees and stretch to reach the keyboard. Smidgen jumped up and walked across the computer, then flopped across me, purred for a bit, demanded I pet her, and now she's asleep, her head in the crook of my right arm. She doesn't care that I'm "working" on the computer. All that matters is her comfort, her naps, and being close (or on) the person she loves and calls her own. That would be me. So I'm being very careful not to disturb her while I type away here on Teh Intarwebs. I loves my Smidge. ::glows with pure affection::

EDIT: Aunt Tudi took a picture of my "plight."

Smidgen gets what Smidgen wants )
tinhuviel: (Smidge and Tin September 2008)
Taken just a few minutes ago.

Of course I had to make it into an icon too. I love my Smidge.


Jul. 30th, 2008 02:38 pm
tinhuviel: (Smidgen & Tin)
After a very long day at work, I finally made it home. Sitting underneath the contorted filbert was my Smidgen, looking all self-satisfied with her lush fur fanning out in a bib of perfection.

I love her )

It's so good to be home. I was out of my uniform and in a night shirt five minutes after walking through the front door. Yippity-skippity-hoo!
tinhuviel: (Devil Smidge)
Shortly after we got home, Aunt Tudi crashed on the couch. She's not been feeling all that nifty, but insisted on accompanying me to the EEG facility, because she's a saint and my protector from the moment I was brought home from being born. As they're wont to do, the beasties started piling up on Aunt Tudi while she snoozed but, this time, some drama ensued. Sheba, lying against Aunt Tudi's side, wagged her tail in response to Aunt Tudi saying something in her sleep and Smidgen, lying in Aunt Tudi's lap, decided that the wagging tail was slap-worthy. Of course I had to egg the action on once I had the camera rolling.

tinhuviel: (Hickey Monster)
I've been a posting fool today. Don't know why, but I figure it's all good unless I'm offending readers. If that's the case well EXCUUUUUUUSE MEEEEE!

We had a thunderstorm right before 5:00 PM and it rained like a sonamabeetch. I could literally hear my grass growing in response to the heavenly offering of H2O. So it looks like I'll be mowing grass tomorrow when I get home from my EEG. My life is so much fun right now. I literally ponder the favourable points of swift and painless death when I'm out pushing that lawn mower around and around my yard until I get to the middle where the worst grass is there to torment my efforts. I swear, I'm going to drop dead mowing grass. And I'll be thrilled as I gaze down at my prone body, because I'll know I won't ever have to do that crap again, unless I'm completely wrong about the existence of Hell. Then I'll be busting that place wide open where a large, heavy lawnmower awaits me so I can mow grass for all eternity, with no water and no rest breaks. Gads, that's too horrific to think about for very long at all.

Hm, I see they're remaking Brideshead Revisited. Why? Wasn't it done perfectly the first time? I mean, really, Anthony Andrews totally owned the role of Sebastian Flyte. Nobody can outdo him. Do you hear me? NO.BODY! I may catch the flick when it comes out on DVD, just out of curiosity. There's no way I'd spend the money to see this in the theatre, like I have money for a movie like that but, if I did, I'd go see Batman Begins.

Henry. I've been thinking about him a lot lately. It's been 6 years since his passing and I still miss him terribly. No dog will ever add up to the absolute greatness that defined my blue-tick beagle boy. When I brought him home, that night he had a seizure and I had to rush him to Dr. Patch, who came back to the animal hospital from home around 9 PM to check my baby out. It turns out that the seizure was caused by worms. Henry had worms so bad that it caused him to react in an extreme way. Doc gave me the meds Henry needed, welcomed my baby to the WSCAH world, and sent us on our way. So I was thinking that maybe I have worms. Maybe my seizure was caused by worms and all I need is to visit Dr. Patch and be done with the whole thing. It worked for Henry. Maybe it'll work for me.

As mentioned at the beginning of this long and boring ramble, I am scheduled to have my EEG tomorrow at 3 PM. This is the last test I'm supposed to have before I go back to see Dr. Pilch on 6 August. I'm supposed to see Dr. Keith the day before that but, if I don't drum up $280 from somewhere, I'll have to cancel that. I really need to have my shoulder checked out by him. I'm sure he'll want to do an MRI since rotator cuff issues usually can't be seen on X-Ray. That's another $1000 or so. Maybe I should seriously consider bankruptcy, throw my hands in the air, and pray for a swift, painless, and merciful disability claim. Or death. There are no wacky knees or godawful shoulders in the Summerlands, or at least that's what I've been led to believe over the years.

Aunt Tudi is wanting me to post a message to my Friends List. She'll be working on what she wants to say tonight after I crawl off to bed and then I'll post her message sometime tomorrow, if I survive the EEG and mowing the grass. That is, if [livejournal.com profile] paul_kiss doesn't beat me to the lawnmowing. I've promised him some Southern Comfort on many levels if he scampers off from Russia to the Armpit of Hell and cuts my grass.

Smidgen just did an incredible impersonation of Thumper. I think she was wanting to scratch, but her leg just went wonky and flew off in a crazy direction. I'm not surprised, though. Smidgen has been acting the fool ever since I let her in about 30 minutes ago. I mean, really, her eyes are all pupil and she's in full Greebling eradication mode. It's kind of scary. I love my Smidge, but she's a tad challenged mentally.

I really need to go to bed, but I don't want to because I know that, when I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock, it'll be time to go back to work. I'm beginning to find the job unpleasant. There's no challenge to it, I get only complaints about things beyond my control, and lifting those trays of bottled drinks (24 drinks per tray) is murder on my shoulder. By the time my shift ends, I'm in tears from the pain. Not good. Sith don't cry. Maybe I'm going Jedi in my old age. If that's the case, then it sucks like Star Trek's Hickey Monster from season one (see icon). Get that chick some salt yo!

Smidgen is now doing a Greebling attack victory dance in front of the TV while Aunt Tudi and I try to watch Scare Tactics. Smidgen is a scare tactic unto herself. What a perfect little kitteh.

That's it for me. I'm going to find a midnight snack and then I'm sacheting off to bed. I've taken some pain medicine for the shoulder and knee, and I plan on having an insomnia-free eve. Well, that's the plan. We'll see if I'm successful.
tinhuviel: (Bukket)
[livejournal.com profile] deuceloosely LOL'd mah kitteh!

You should click on the piccie and vote for his grooveh creation.
tinhuviel: (Smidgen)
Behold! Smidgen and her groovacious tool box. She may look like she was merely lounging around but, shortly after this picture was taken, she pulled out the hammer and hit me with it.

She then proceeded to engage Aunt Tudi in a boxing match to rival the greatness of the Balboa-Drago fight from Rocky IV

The only one who ended the evening unscathed was Llew, and that's only because he cowered in the corner and cried like a little girl, begging the Mighty, Mighty Manx Smidgen not to harm him. It was a sight to see, if only in my tattered and bent imagination.

August 2017

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